He thinks the people here—­though by no means what they might be with more thrift and knowledge—­much better off than the same class in many other parts of Ireland.  There are no “Gombeen men” here, he says, and no usurious shopkeepers.  “The people back each other in a friendly way when they need help.”  Many of the labourers, he says, are in debt to him, but he never presses them, and they are very patient with each other.  They would do much better if any pains were taken to teach them.  It is his belief that agricultural schools and model farms would do more than almost any measure that could be devised for bringing up the standard of comfort and prosperity here, and making the country quiet.

It is the opinion of this man that the people of this place have been led to regard the Papal Decree as a kind of attack on their liberties, and that they are quite as likely to resist as to obey it.  For his own part, he thinks Ireland ought to have her own parliament, and make her own laws.  He is not satisfied with the laws actually made, though he admits they are better than the older laws were.  “The tenants get their own improvements now,” he said, “and in old times the more a man improved the worse it was for him, the agent all the while putting up the rents.”

But he does not want Irish independence.  “The people that talk that way,” he said, “have never travelled.  They don’t see how idle it is for Ireland to talk about supporting herself.  She just can’t do it.”

Not less interesting was my talk to-day with quite a different person.  This was a keen-eyed, hawk-billed, wiry veteran of the ’48.  As a youth he had been out with “Meagher of the Sword,” and his eyes glowed when he found that I had known that champion of Erin.  “I was out at Ballinagar,” he said; “there were five hundred men with guns, and five hundred pikemen.”  It struck me he would like to be going “out” again in the same fashion, but he had little respect for the “Nationalists.”

“There’s too many lawyers among them,” he said, “too many lawyers and too many dealers.  The lawyers are doing well, thanks to the League.  Oh yes!” with a knowing chuckle, and a light of mischief in his eye; “the lawyers are doing very well!  There’s one little bit of a solicitor not far from here was of no good at all four years ago, and now they tell me he’s made four thousand pounds in three years’ time, good money, and got it all in hand!  And there’s another, I hear, has made six thousand.  The lawyers that call themselves Nationalists, they just keep mischief agoing to further themselves.  What do they care for the labourers?  Why, no more than the farmers do—­and what would become of the poor men! * * * * here, he is making * * * * * * * and he keeps more poor men going than all the lawyers and all the farmers in the place a good part of the year.”

“Are the labourers,” I asked, “Nationalists?”

“They don’t know what they are,” he answered.  “They hate the farmers, but they love Ireland, and they all stand together for the counthry!”