It was a dim day of clouds and watery blinks of sunshine.
As we drove along all historical spots were pointed out to me, being a
stranger, with great politeness. A place on the road where the French
had surged up from Killala and met and fought with the English, was
pointed out to me. "Here they were defeated, thim French."
We passed the place where lived from colthood to glory the celebrated
white horse of Mayo, the "Girraun Bawn." This horse, a racer, "bate" all
Ireland in his day, and was ridden without a saddle or bridle. Mayo was
very proud of this racing steed, so much so that when horses were seized
and impounded for the county cess, a farmer who had received his mare
back again, considering that it would be a disgrace if the king of
horses were left in the pound, returned to Castle Connor to the pound,
left his own horse there and released "Rie Girraun."
This celebrated horse was stolen it appears. After some time a troop of
dragoons were quartered in Mayo, whose commanding officer rode a horse
suspiciously like "Rie Girraun." The servant man who had ridden and
cared for the white horse of Mayo recognized the horse and drew
inconveniently near to the soldiers on parade to make sure whether it
was "Rie Girraun" or not. The officer, annoyed at the man intruding
where he was not wanted, asked him what business he had there. He said,
"The horse your honor rides was stolen from this place, and I was
looking at him to be sure. He is the famous white horse of Mayo." He was
asked to prove it, which he undertook to do if the officer would alight,
which he did. The peasant, then, hidden behind a stone ditch, called to
the horse in Irish, asking him if he would have a glass of whiskey. The
horse had been accustomed to get this when he had won a race, and knew
the taste of poteen. He pricked up his ears and galloped round, looking
for the voice. On the words being repeated two or three times, he
vaulted over the stone wall and came to his old friend hidden behind.
The officer would not part with the horse, but he paid liberally for
him - so it seems the white horse of Mayo ended his days in the service
of royalty.
The grandson of the possessor of the white horse was the other day fined
L6 for possessing poteen, and was unable to pay it.
Listening to these stories we came up with the police, who had alighted
from their cars and were going through their exercise preliminary to a
march. We made our way through the cars, our driver chaffing a little
with the drivers of the other cars. Just opposite where the police left
the cars was the most utterly wretched house that I had yet seen. A
large family of ragged people gathered at the door, looking to be in
anything but fighting trim. We drove slowly, the police marched quickly,
until we saw them take to the fields, when we alighted per force and
followed them.
A slim, fair-haired woman, with her arms bare and her feet and legs in
the same classic condition under her short dilapidated skirts, began to
make some eloquent remarks. If there had been a thousand or two like her
I do think the seventy police would have had hard work to protect the
bailiff. One of our company, a gentleman, remarked to her that she had a
fine arm of her own. "Troth, sir," said she, "If I was as well fed as
yourself it's finer it would be." We agreed with this gentleman that if
this woman was fed and clothed like other people she would certainly be
a fine-looking person. She drew near to enquire if we were in any way
connected with the police. Her enquiries were especially directed to
myself. She was told that I was an American lady, and a few faces that
scowled were smoothed into smiles immediately.
There were by this time four women and half a dozen boys present. No one
spoke above their breath but our woman of bare arms. In answer to
something addressed to her by our party, she said, "Sure they could not
take a better time than seed time to droive us out of our senses. Sure
God above has an eye and an ear for it. Look here," she said, throwing
out her handsome bare arm, "look at the bare fields lying waste because
the seed cannot be got to put in the ground; they're cryin' up to God
against it. The cratures here have not enough yellow male to keep the
hunger off. If they had waited till harvest there would be a color of
justice to it." This woman had all the talking to herself, no one else
had anything to say. She herself was not among those against whom the
processes were served.
We saw the process server leave the ranks of the police and walk down to
a wretched little cabin and return in a few moments. The order to march
was given, and the police tramped along to the next house, a bit off the
road. Two or three little children were in the field, apparently herding
cattle. The least one said to his brother in an accent of terror,
"Jimsey, Jimsey, the war is come at last."
Along the road, tramp, tramp, off the road through the bogs, every house
called at seeming worse than the last. A rumor had been running along
before us - ever before us - of an Amazonian army with pitchforks, tongs
and the hooks used for drawing the sea weed ashore, armed and ready,
some three hundred strong, waiting for the police.
