Disturbed Ireland | Page 5

had gone to England. Telegraphing to him appeared useless, as
communications were said to be cut off on the five Irish miles between
Ballinrobe, the telegraph station, and Lough Mask House. As time
wore on, I learned that he had had cattle at Tuam Fair, but that he had
not come home that way for certain. In despair I came on to this place,
where information reached me yesterday morning that, contrary to all
expectations, he had gone on the other line of railway to Galway, and
taken the steamboat on Lough Corrib to Cong, after having telegraphed
to his escort to meet him there.

From Westport to Lough Mask is a long but picturesque drive. I was
lucky enough to secure an intelligent driver and an excellent horse and
car. Thirty Irish miles is not in this part of the country considered an
extravagant distance to drive a horse. I believe, indeed, that under other
circumstances the unfortunate animal would have been compelled to
carry me the entire distance; but I remarked that when I suggested a
change of horses at Ballinrobe I was not only accommodated with a
fresh horse, but with a fresh car and a fresh driver, who declared that
the road to Lough Mask was about the safest and best that he had ever
heard of. Now from Westport to Ballinrobe we had met nobody but a
very few people going into town either riding on an ass or driving one
laden with a pair of panniers or "cleaves" of turf, for which some
fourpence or fivepence would be paid. All seemed thinly clad, despite
the fearfully cold wind sweeping down from the Nephin, the Hest, and
other snow-clad mountains. Crossing the long dreary peat-moss known
as Mún-a-lún, we found the cold intense; but on approaching Lough
Carra came into bright broad sunshine. At Ballinrobe the sun was still
hotter, and as I approached Lough Mask the heat was almost oppressive.
I was not, however, allowed to inspect Lough Mask House and the
ruins of the adjacent castle in the first place. I had but just passed a
magnificent field of mangolds, many of which weighed from a stone to
a stone and a half, when I came upon a sight which could not be
paralleled in any other civilised country at the present moment.
Beyond a turn in the road was a flock of sheep, in front of which stood
a shepherdess heading them back, while a shepherd, clad in a leather
shooting-jacket and aided by a bull terrier, was driving them through a
gate into an adjacent field. Despite her white woollen shawl and the
work she was engaged upon, it was quite evident, from her voice and
manner, that the shepherdess was of the educated class, and the
shepherd, albeit dressed in a leather jacket, carried himself with the true
military air. Both were obviously amateurs at sheep-driving, and the
smart, intelligent bull terrier was as much an amateur as either of them,
for shepherd, shepherdess and dog were only doing what a good collie
would achieve alone and unaided. Behind the shepherd were two tall
members of the Royal Irish Constabulary in full uniform and with
carbines loaded. As the shepherd entered the field the constables

followed him everywhere at a distance of a few yards. All his backings
and fillings, turnings and doublings, were followed by the armed
policemen. This combination of the most proverbially peaceful of
pursuits with carbines and buckshot was irresistibly striking, and the
effect of the picture was not diminished by the remarks of Mr. and Mrs.
Boycott, for the shepherd and shepherdess were no other than these.
The condition of Mr. Boycott and his family has undergone not the
slightest amelioration since he last week wrote a statement of his case
to a daily contemporary. In fact, he is in many respects worse off. It
will be recollected that about a month ago a process-server and his
escort retreated on Lough Mask House, followed by a mob, and that on
the following day all the farm servants were ordered to leave Mr.
Boycott's employment. I may mention that Mr. Boycott is a Norfolk
man, the son of a clergyman, and was formerly an officer in the 39th
Regiment. On his marriage he settled on the Island of Achill, near here,
and farmed there until he was offered some land agencies, which
occupied so much of his time, that he, after some twenty years'
residence in Achill, elected to take a farm on the mainland. For seven
years he has farmed at Lough Mask, acting also as Lord Erne's agent.
He has on his own account had a few difficulties with his workpeople;
but these were tided over by concessions on his part, and all went
smoothly till