The day was very wet even
for Ireland. After the burial service was over the women, kneeling by
the new made grave, among the rank wet grass, and the dripping ivy,
raised the caoine. It was a most unearthly sound, sweet like singing,
sad like crying, rising up among the ruined towers, and clinging ivy and
floating up heavenwards. I believe the stories of banshees must have
arisen from the sound of the caoine. These mourning women were very
skilful, I was told, and were relations of the dead whom they mourned,
and whose good qualities mingled with their love and grief rose in
wailing cry and floated weirdly over the ruins and up to the clouds.
I had at this time an invitation from Mr. Sydney Bellingham to come over
to Castle Bellingham to see life from another standpoint. I was standing
at the window debating with myself. I did not like to leave the West
before seeing a little more of it, and I do want, in the interests of
truth, to look at things from every available standpoint. If I go to
Castle Bellingham I must go now, I reasoned, for after this they go to
England. As I stood there thinking, a handsome car dashed past with a
gentleman and lady on it, followed by another with a guard of policemen.
I enquired who this guarded gentleman was, and was told it was that Mr.
Bourke who went into the Catholic church armed to the teeth.
I have been nearly five months in Ireland, travelling about almost
constantly, and as yet have only seen three persons who were protected
by police, two men and one woman. I decided to leave Cong, and after
studying on the map the nearest way to Castle Bellingham, determined to
take that way.
Left Cong in the early morning to sail down Lough Corrib to Galway. For
some reason the landing place has been altered, and is now some distance
from Cong, at which it used to be. This change is a drawback to Cong.
There are mills at Cong that used to grind indian corn, but they are not
used now for some reason or other, and are falling into ruin. The
shifting of the landing place was done by Lord Ardilaun, the stoppage of
the mills by him also. The landing place where the little steamer waited
for freight and passengers had a little crowd, who seemed to have more
to do than just to look on, and there was a little hum of traffic that
sounded cheerful.
It was a very windy day; Lough Corrib's waves had white caps on. The sun
came out fitfully, and the clouds swept great shadows over the mountain
sides. There were patches of green oats bathed in sunshine, and
plantations of larch and fir standing close and locked in shadow.
