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.
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