Here, By Tulloghan Bay, I Was Told To Look Across The Bay, Where The
Heather-Clad Mountains Rise Above The
Broad heather-clad bog, where the
road to Ballycroy winds along between the bay and the mountains, past
houses of
Mortarless stone, hard to be distinguished from the heath; for
over there in a certain spot occurred the shooting affray which has made
young Mr. Smith, the son of the then agent for the Marquis of Sligo, a
man of renown.
The hard feeling between the exterminating Marquis, the agent who
executed his will and the tenantry was intense. Four men were lying in
wait here with the intention of shooting Mr. Smith, who was expected to
pass that way. He drove along accompanied by his son. The would-be
assassins fired; they were concealed above the road; the shots passed
harmlessly over the heads of the two Smiths. Young Mr. Smith, who is an
exceptionally good shot - can hit a small coin at an immense distance -
saw the men run and fired after them, killing one, fired again, wounding
another, and would have fired again, but was prevented by his father.
Young Mr. Smith is quite a hero among the people on this account. There
is an expressed regret that Mr. Smith the elder interfered to prevent
the young marksman from shooting them all; very few would blame him if
he did, as the men, though too nervous to do harm, lay in wait for the
purpose of murder.
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