Presbyterianism does not, as a rule,
flourish in Mayo, though there are a good many small congregations and
many mission schools.
My friend of "the force" got leave of absence for a day and having got
into plain clothes drove with me to Pontoon Bridge between Lough Conn
and Lough Cullin. As we passed the poor-house he told me of the awful
crush that took place round its doors, where the relief was served
during the scarcity. The press and struggle of the hungry creatures were
so dreadful that no serving could be attempted for some days. I could
not help pitying the force standing in mud ankle-deep trying to beat
back the frantic people, to make serving the relief possible. But, oh!
the despair of the people who had to go and come again because the press
was so great. It seemed to a civilian like me that the matter was badly
planned and by heartless people, or two or even three places would have
been appointed for the distribution of the relief and not send them home
without. I often wonder if I am too tender-hearted, too easily moved.
The want of feeling toward the very poor strikes me forcibly wherever I
turn. I think that it was not so to such a perceptible degree before the
poor-houses were built. I solemnly think the Poor Law system educates
people into hardness of heart.
The road out from Castlebar was very beautiful but thinly populated. All
gone to grass near the town, hardly any cottages at all. Our first visit
was to Turlough where there is a round tower with an iron gate quite
close to the ground. The other two which I had seen before at Devinish
and at Killala had their doors about eleven feet from the ground. The
top of this round tower was broken and it had been mended by the
Government. There is a story among the peasantry to the effect that it
never had been finished at all. They say it was the work of the
celebrated _Gobhan saer_, an architect who seems to have had a hand
in every ancient building almost. The finishing of the rounded top of
this tower was done by an apprentice who was likely to rival his great
master. He, in a sudden fit of jealousy, before it was quite finished
pulled away the scaffolding and the too clever apprentice was killed.
There is a ruined abbey adjoining the round tower. It is roofless and
open, yet still an iron gate opens from one part to another. Here in
this abbey has been the burying-place of many of the sept of the
Fitzgeralds, and it was interesting to pass from tablet to tablet and
read of the greatness that had returned to dust.
