Ireland by the proceedings of the Land League none have been left to die
outside. The tenants are admitted as caretakers by the week, but the
eviction, I am told, extinguishes any claim the poor people might have
under the Ulster Custom.

I have seen nothing yet to make me think I was in a disturbed country
except meeting Captain Dopping and his escort, and seeing white police
barracks and dandy policemen, who literally overrun the country. It
carries one's mind back to the days of bloody Claverhouse or wicked
Judge Jeffries to hear and see the feelings which the country people--
Catholic as well as Protestant--have towards the memory of the late
Earl. "Dear, the cup of his iniquity was full, the day of vengeance was
come, and the earth could hold him no longer," said a Protestant to me.

"It was bad for the people, whoever they were, that took vengeance out
of the hands of the Almighty, but many a poor creature he had sent out
of the world before he lay helpless at the mercy of his enemies," said
many an orthodox person to me. One poor girl on that dreadful day
thanked God that the oppressor was laid low. Her mother evicted, had
died on the roadside exposed to the weather of the hills, her brother
went mad at the sight of misery he would almost have died to relieve but
could not, and is now in the asylum at Letterkenny. One can imagine with
what feeling this desolate girl lifted her hands when she heard of the
murder, and said, "I thank Thee, O Lord."

What kind of a system is it that produces such scenes, and such
feelings? It is a noticeable fact how many there are in the asylum in
Letterkenny whose madness they blame on the horrors of these evictions.
Wise legislation may find a remedy for these evils, but the memory of
them will never die out. It is graven on the mountains, it is stamped on