SLIGO'S GOOD LANDLORDS--THE POLICE AND THEIR DUTIES--A DOUBTFUL
COMPLIMENT--AN AMAZON.
It has been something wonderful to me that when I left Leitrim, I
seemed to have left all bad landlords behind me. Every one I came in
contact with in Sligo, rich or poor, had something to say about a good
landlord. Some were thoughtfully kind and considerate, of which they
gave me numerous instances; others if the kind actions were unknown,
positively unkind ones were unknown also, so their portraits came out in
neutral tints. I conversed with high Tories and admirers of the Land
League, but heard only praise of Sligo's lords of the soil. I thought I
should leave Sligo, believing it an exceptional place, but just before I
left I heard two persons speak of one bad landlord of Sligo.
On May 18th I left the green valleys of Sligo behind and took passage on
the long car for Ballina. I found that the long car was to be shared
with a contingent of police, who were returning to their several
stations after lawfully prowling round the country protecting bailiffs
and process-servers in their unpopular work. I cannot believe that these
quiet, repressed conservators of the peace can possibly feel proud of
their duties. These duties must often--and very often--be repugnant to
the heart of any man who has a heart, and I suppose the majority of them
have hearts behind their trim jackets. I liked to look at these men,
they are so trim, clean, self-respectful. They have also a well-fed
appearance, which is comfortable to notice after looking at the hungry-
looking, tattered people, from whom they protect the bailiffs.
We passed Balasodare--I did not stop, for I felt that it was better to
get this disagreeable journey over at once.
We stopped at a place called Dromore west, to change horses and to
change cars. We had dropped the police, a few at a time, as we came
along, so that now the car was not by any means crowded. We all stood on
the road while the change of horses was being made. It was slow work,
and I went into a shop near to ask for a glass of water. The mistress of
the shop enquired if I would take milk. I assented, and was served with
a brimming tumbler of excellent milk. Payment was refused, and as I
turned to leave, I was favored with a subdued groan from the women
assembled in the shop. Evidently they thought I was some tyrant who
required the protection of the police. It would not flatter me--not
much--to be taken for some landholders here.
When my police fellow-voyagers were dropped at their comfortable white
barracks here and there, and only one was left, we fell into
conversation to beguile the time. He had been at one time on duty in
Donegal and knew how matters were there, from his point of view, better
than I did. We spoke of Captain Dopping, and his opinion of him was if
anything lower than mine. He expressed great thankfulness that guarding
the Captain had never been his duty. Whether he disliked it from moral
causes, or for fear of intercepting in his own person a stray bullet
intended for the gallant captain, he did not say.
Arrived at Ballina after a long, tiresome journey, yet like everything
else in this world it had its compensations. Ballina is a kind of
seaport town, in the Rip Van Winkle way. An inlet from Killala Bay
called the Moy runs up to the town. There is no stir on the water, no
perceptible merchandise on the quay. One dull steamboat painted black,
in mourning for the traffic and bustle of life that ought to be there,
slides out on its way to Liverpool and creeps back again cannily. Unless
you see this steamboat I can testify that you might put up quite a while
at Ballina and never hear its existence mentioned, so it cannot be of
much account. The streets are thronged with barefoot women and ragged
lads with their threepenny loads of turf. The patient ass, with his
straw harness and creels, is the prevailing beast of burden everywhere I
have travelled since I entered Enniskillen with the exception of Sligo.
Sligo town, like Belfast in a lesser degree, has the appearance of
having something to do and of paying the people something who do it. The
traders who come to Ballina market seem to trade in a small way as at
Manor Hamilton. Still, the town is handsome and clean, a large part of
the population, prosperous-looking, in an easy going way, the ladies
fine-looking and well dressed. One wonders what supports all this, for
the business of the town seems of little account.
Spent a Sunday here and after church became aware that the too, too
celebrated Miss Gardiner, with her friend Miss Pringle, had arrived at
the hotel on their way to Dublin, on evictions bent. The police had
marched out in the evening to her place to protect her in. I was eager
to see this lady, who enjoys a world-wide fame, so sent her my card
requesting an interview, which she declined. I caught a glimpse of her
in the hall as she passed out with her friend and guard. She is a very
stout, loud-voiced lady, not pretty. The bulge made by the pistols she
carries was quite noticeable. "Arrah, why do you want to see either of
them," said a maiden to me. "Sure they both of thim drink like dragons"--
dragoons she meant, I suppose--"an' swear like troopers, an' fight like
cats." This was a queer bit of news to me. I did not take any notice of
it at that time; but, dear me, it is as common news as the paving
stories on the street.
Miss Gardiner is almost constantly at law with her tenants, lives in a
state of siege, maintains, at the cost of the country, an armed body
guard, and is doing her very best to embroil the country in her efforts
to clear the tenants off her property. At the Ballycastle petty sessions
a woman summoned by this lady for overholding, as they call it, appeared
by her son and pleaded that she had been illegally evicted. Miss
Gardiner told them they might do what they liked, but she must get her
house. Now this house never cost Miss Gardiner a farthing for repairs
nor for erection, and it is all the house the wretched creatures have,
and, of course, they hold to it as long as they are able. The priest
attempted to put in a word for the woman, and was unmercifully snubbed
by the bench. In Miss Gardiner's next case, the bench decided that the
service was illegal. Miss Gardiner then called out, "I now demand
possession of you in the presence of the court." The bench would not
accept this notice as legal. She had a great many cases and gained them
all but this one. This particular Sunday when I had the honor of seeing
her she was bound for Dublin on eviction business.