They were half shame-faced, half
laughing, clinging to one another as if gathering their courage from
numbers.
Carndonagh, which we reached at last, is another clean, excessively
whitewashed little town, straggling up a side hill, with any amount of
mountains looming up in the near distance.
A little after we arrived the Carndonagh contingent of the police on
duty at the evictions came driving in, horses and men both having a
wilted look. The drivers came in for some abuse as they took their
horses out of the cars on the street. One old man could not at all
express what he felt, though he tried hard to do so, and screeched
himself hoarse in the attempt.
The police, as they alighted down off the cars, made for their barracks -
a tall white house standing sentry at a corner. As one entered, a
little child toddled out to meet him with outstretched arms. He stopped
to kiss and pet the child, looking fatherly and human. I am sure the
little kiss was sweet and welcome after the howls and hoots of the crowd
and the sarcastic eloquence of Miss McConigle. I pity the police; they
are under orders which they have to obey. I have never heard that they
have delighted in doing their odious duty harshly, and the bitter
contempt of the people is, I am sure, hard to bear.
