Five rooks were sitting in judgment on the work of a young
and thoughtless pair of rooks, I suppose. The work was condemned, the
young couple were evicted without mercy and the nest pulled to pieces by
the five censors with grave caws of disapprobation, while the evicted
ones flew round and showed fight and used bad language. The Coercion Act
was not in favor among the black coated gentry of the air.
It has fallen like a spell over Ireland though, and evictions are
hurried through as if they thought their time was short. People are
afraid to speak to a stranger.
I have succeeded in obtaining introductions, which I hope will give me
an entrance into society in Donegal.
Was driven by my new friends over a part of Lord Leitrim's estate, and
through his town of Milford. The murdered Earl has left a woeful memory
of himself all over the country side. He must have had as many curses
breathed against him as there are leaves on the trees, if what
respectable people who dare speak of his doings say of him be true,
which it undoubtedly is. Godly people of Scottish descent, Covenanters
and Presbyterians, who would not have harmed a hair of his head for
worlds, have again and again lifted their hands to heaven and cried.
"How long, Lord, are we to endure the cruelty of this man?"
One case (which is a sample case) I will notice.
