The asses were
sleek and fat, shod and attached to carts. How different from Ramelton,
Donegal, Manor Hamilton, Leitrim, Castlebar or Mayo, where straw
harness, lean asses and hungry, barefoot women abound. The land is good
round Drogheda, and there is manufacturing going on. This makes the
difference.
I will never get up along the Boyne at this rate. I went along the south
side and, hearing the cheery clack of a loom, went into a cottage to see
the weaver, a woman. She was weaving canvas for stiffening for coats.
Could make threepence a yard, which was better pay a good deal than the
Antrim weavers of fine linen make. She was much exercised in her mind
against Mr. Vere Forster, who helps young western girls to emigrate to
America, confounding him with the infamous wretches who decoy girls to
France and Belgium. I tried to set her right, to explain matters to her,
but I am afraid that I did not succeed in convincing her.
The land on both sides of the Boyne is dotted with houses and filled
with people, so the country looks more cheerful than in empty Mayo or
Roscommon. I spoke to a farmer who was looking hopefully at a large
field of oats, and asked him what rent he paid.
