There Were
Twos And Threes Here And There, Lounging About Apparently, But With Eyes
Alert And Watchful.
XVII.
HONORED AS MISS PARNELL - A LAND LEAGUE MEETING - AN EXPENSIVE DOCUMENT -
THE LAND LAW DISCUSSED.
In the morning a good many police were scattered about the corners, but
no massing of them. All the fiery placards had completely disappeared. I
was a little astonished at the scrupulous courtesy with which I was
treated, a guide volunteering to show me the place of meeting. Found out
afterward that when I arrived at the hotel I was mistaken for Miss
Parnell, and felt highly flattered. Omagh was quiet enough; no more stir
than would be likely for a fair or market day. No sign or sight of a
counter Orange demonstration. The meeting was held in a field on the
outskirts of the town, on the property of a gentleman, whose name I
forget, but who was described as a very good, kind and considerate
landlord.
On the highest ground in the field a rather slenderly put up platform
was erected, while farther back and lower down a large tent was pitched
for the banquet which was to follow the speechifying. The platform,
slightly railed in and protected by a primitive gate, was furnished with
two tables and a number of chairs. As soon as I came near the platform a
gentleman opened the little gate which admitted into the sacred
enclosure and invited me to a seat on the platform. I accepted gladly,
for I was very tired. Not knowing the mistake under which the people
labored, I wondered at the respectful attention that was directed to me.
Groups of people came and stared at me through the board enclosure, to
go away and be succeeded by other groups, mostly ladies of the country-
bred kind. Finally I drew my chair to the back of the platform to be
more out of the way, and sat there watching the crowd gather.
The crowd was assembling slowly in dozens and half dozens straggling
along, no great enthusiasm apparent at all. The great majority wore
corduroys of a great many varieties of color and states of preservation
or dilapidation. The irrepressible small boys were clustering over the
slight fence that surrounded the platform, crawling under it, roosting
on top of it, squatting round my chair and smiling up at me as if they
expected a universal pat on the head.
The time for the meeting arrived, and with it a squad of reporters, who
monopolised one table, all the chairs but one, and proceeded to make
themselves at home, producing their pencils and note books in a
business-like manner. The crowd clustered at the back of the platform
began to fling jokes from one to the other about penny-a-liners. Two
policemen, one tall, blonde, pleasant featured, one short, dark and
rosy-cheeked, arrived next with their note books and pencils. There were
a few more policemen at the entrance gate into the field, one soldier
standing carelessly on the road, an unconcerned spectator to all
appearance.
Presently the straggling crowd began to concentrate round the platform.
The women who were peeping into the tent and the men who were helping
them forsook that pleasing occupation and made for the platform at a
double quick trot. Many voices said, "yon's them." Looking along the
road toward the town black with the coming crowd, I saw a waggonette
drawn by four horses, gallant greys, coming along at a spanking pace.
The crowd around me disputed whether the driver was able to bring his
four in hand safely through the rather narrow gate, which involved a
sharp turn, but he did, and drew up inside with a flourish, to the great
admiration of all. The gentlemen came on the platform, Mr. Dillon, a
half dozen or so of priests and some other gentlemen. There was a goodly
number of people assembled; still not as many as I expected to see.
There were not many thousands at all. The faces of the crowd were not by
any means so fine as the faces of the Donegal peasantry. They were mixed
faces, all but a few seemed simple country people, some of the heavy,
low English type, some keen and Scotch, some low Irish. The women were
not so fair skinned and rosy as the mountain lasses. There were a good
many ladies and gentlemen present. I do not think all who were present
were in favor of the Land League, by the remarks which reached me, but
the large majority were. As none of the gentlemen speakers spoke to me
when they came on the platform, I lost my prestige at once.
The first speakers, not accustomed to pitch their voices so as to be
heard by a crowd, were quite inaudible where I sat. On the contrary,
every word Mr. Dillon said was distinct and clearly audible. He has a
clear voice, pleasant to listen to after those who preceded him. He is
tall, slim, rather good-looking, very black hair, which he wears long,
and which was so smooth and shining that it made him look like an
Indian, and truly he is as well made, lithe and nervous-looking as one.
His manner is cold and clear and self-repressed; not a word but tells.
His speech was exactly the same as he gave in Derry. He did not approve
of the Land Bill - and I had thought it so good - but he pointed out a
great many defects in it. Faults I never should have suspected to be
there, were picked out and brought to view.
A very telling speech was made by a dark, thin, wiry man named O'Neil.
His speech dealt with the hardships which they had passed through owing
to excessive rents and hard years of poor crops. He spoke what the
people felt, for many a voice chorused, "True for you; we know that
well." In the middle of the speeches the platform prepared to break
down, but only collapsed in the middle and fell half way and stopped.
Two of the priests spoke also, and spoke well to judge by the people's
applause.
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