An Englishman's Researches in Ulster.

Auckland Star, Volume XVII, Issue 241, 13 October 1886, Page 3

An Englishman's Researches in Ulster.

A lady correspondent in Ulster, to whom an English member of Parliament put tho question, " Do the Protestants live in lively torror of their neighbours, and do tho said neighbours really cherish an undying hatred towards them ?" invited the member to visit the cottages of tho labourers in the district and interview the people themselves. Tho invitation was accopted, and the following is an account of the experiences of the investigators :—

Mrs Craig, a middle-aged woman with an intelligent face, received us gladly, and placed a chair for the stranger opposite the open door, whence he could see a magnificent panorama. Mrs Craig soon introduced theal!-3ngroseing subject. "Weol, ma'am, I havena seen you since the Homo Rule Bill was thrown out. I suppose there's nao fear o' them gettir.' it now?" "We are safo for tho present. Are your neighbours greatly disappointed ?' She dropped her voice at once and drew her stool noarer to me. "Is it disappointed ma'am ? They're bursting; they're just raging. They canua look ane o' us straight in tho face, they're that downcabt: they wore sure, you see, they'd have Homo Rule. There's a quare change in them now, If they gie' you tho time o' day, or say its soft or dry, or a brave evenin', they speak quite melancholy, an' look down as if we had done them an injury. Mrs Donelly an' the girls '11 gie me a civil word, but all the time you'd think I'd wronged them some way, they put the speak on mo that onwilling. v\ co Charlio Donelly came in here last week, an' eaya ho, quite innocent—for what does the poor wean know but what he hears his parents aayin' ? —'We're to get Heme Rule, Ann,' says he. ' What's that, Charlie ?' says I. 'D o you not know ? We're to get land, Ann ; we'll ha' thae twa fields at we'er door. An' Jack O'Heany '11 get the Lea Park an' the six-acre wheatfield ' ' An' what bo for me, Charlie ?' says I, quite serious. ' I dinna know if there'll be ony land for you an' the likes o' you,' says he." " What did he mean 5" inquired the Englishmen, who had been listsning attentively, with hie eyas fixed on the baaut'fal country before him. "Protestau.B," I hastened to explain, "Ay, ma'am," continued our hostess, " the Papiahes had hia honour's land divided amang them — ay, aa' his reverence's, we'er rector's too; but if they'd ha' got .Home Rule tber'd ha' been nao life for us poor labourers any more nor for you ones. Tho'd ha' riz an' killed his honor an' the rector first, an' took all they had. Next they wad ha' killed the ladies ; then the big farmers ; an1 last o' all they'd ha' had we'er lives — ay, an' we'er bits of things forbye. There'd ha' been nae life for Protestants in Ireland. It 'ud be like the wars o' Ireland over again." "The wars of Ireland? What particular period of your interesting history does she allude to ?" "To the massacre of the Protestant settlers in 1641, which has lived in the memory of the people from generation to generation, and is always called 'The wars of Ireland' par excellence." " Weel, sir, an' my lady, the Catholics doosna like us a hair better now nor they diti then. Did ye never hear tell o' the drowning in Stewartstown Lough? My mother's grandmother told me the story ; but whisht (dropping her voice yet lower), Mark McColgan's in the house tbe day. He's a Fenian that Bits up half the night reading them bad newspapers frae Dublin in a whean Papish men that gathers to hear him. Mark is aye listenin'." " But about Stewartstown Lough?" "Ay. The Papists drove the Protestant women a»' children into the Lough at the point o' their pikes. There was a woman had her child in her arms, an* when the water rose round her she be to drop the wean ; but its clothes kept it up, an' it got reaching the land, an' was creepin' out, when a man pushed it back into the river wi' his pike. ' Let the Protestant kitling drown wi' tbe auld cat,' says he. But ane o' the women heered what he said at the back o' the dyke where she was hiding, an' when the country settled a wee she told the story an' the Protestants hanged the man at his am door." Mrs Craig did not listen to our remarks upon the anecdote : she was so anxious to tell another tale of woe that had been handed down to her. " There was a party o' soldiers riding through the country near Mungannon, an' they needed a feed for their horses, an' drew up at a farm-house an' axed for a sheaf o' wheat. The people o' tho house bid them turn their beasts loose in tho wheat-field fornenst the door; for, says they, we havena men to shear the crop, an' there it maun stand. So the army turned their beasts into the field; but they snorted an' ran wild, an' wouldna put a mouth on the grain ; an' the cause wasna far to seek, for when the men looked the field was full o'corpses."

Mrs Jervis, wife of another Protestant labourer, also spoke about Mr Gladstone's defeat. " The Roman Catholics is in quaro trouble now, ma'am," said she, laughing, " ay, faix, it's a pity o' them 1 Our Henry was sayin' the Papists were aye talkin' o' the grand times that was comin' for them when the Bill wad past. Sure, there waa John Donelly " (lowering her voice as Mrs Craig had done, for fear her next neighbour should hear) : "John was aye gatherin' the other Catholics round him in the fields, an' boastin' how the Bill wae goin' to pass, an' how the landlords an' Orangemen an' a' the Protestants wad be driven out o' Ireland. Sure the overseer could hardly get them to their work wi' the talking.'' She added, in a dissatisfied tone, " His honour employs a big whean o' Catholics on the farm, sir," and then proceeded : " ' Justwait till the Becond reading, John,' our Henry wad say ; an' su,e enough there's a change in them since the figures was made known. Jehn was building his honour's turf-stack yesterday, an' three little boys throwinguptheturf to him, an', says they, tauntinghim, 'What about the second reading, John ? Will we get Home Rule, John!' .dancing round the stack like wee divils. John cursed them,an' he'd ha' brained them.likeenough, if Henry an' the other men hadna been there. Henry came upon three o' his honour's Papist men " —(here again marked emphasis of disapproval) —" wi' th.ir heads cloce thegether. They wero cursin' the Protestants hard ; but when they seen him comin, they started awa from other, and pretended they were only talking of the turf-drawing. When he had gone some distance they fell to cursing the Protestants again as wicked as before. An' they speak you so fair, ma'am, an' that Donelly wad make you think he was dyin' about you ; but me an' the likes o' me hears what they really think. The quality doe3na knoiv—bless their innocent wit—the quality doesna know I"

Our next halt was in a bog about a mile further up hill. The bog waa a busy scene, for tbe dry turf was being drawn home. A tall old man was working apart from the other men, and I took advantage of his isolated position to introduco my friend James Marshall was a Presbyterian—a true descendant of the Covenanters—as full of dogged fortitude and of fiery zeal as any one of them bad been. His stalwart forefathers had turned the sterile land of Ulster into the emiliog country that met us in every direction. He was not willing to yield an acre of what they had won to the hereditary foe, "Wo drove the Catholioi up to the mountains in old times," said he, " and now they'd be for coming down an' turning us out o' Ireland, But it won't be yet, missis, will it ?" "Well, Mai shall, I hope not; I do not think Parnell will get Home Rule this year, at any rate.' " There'd bo nae life for us if he did ; but we'd fight—we'd fight before we'd let them destroy us. There's the old gun that my great-grandfather had at the siege o' Deiry an' Id fird it off, as old an' all aa I am to protect my old woman, an' the wee place." " Marshall this gentleman wishes to know why you think the Catholics would not let us live peacefully among them." The old man's shrewd long visage turned slowly upon my friend with a look of pitying scorn ; but he merely said, "God bless your innocent wit, sir I 1 suppose the gentleman's frae England, ma'am ?" " Yes, and he wants to understand more about us so aa to be able to help us." "If he heered what I hear, ther, ma'am, he'd know why we think there would be nae life for ua if the Irish got Home Rule. Did he see the bonefires (sic) on a' the hills last night (St. John's Eve) ? Those fires ie kep' up by the Catholics in memory o' the fires o' Scotch bones they made in the wars o' Ireland. There was that many corpses o' the Scotch that the Irish gathered them into heaps an' burnt them ; an' ever since when they light fires, on set nights like May Evo an' Hallowe'en, tbey make believe that they are burning the Scotch bones. An' if they got Home Rule, we'er bones wad be burned in earnest. There was a man o' am sort wi' his dog coming down Benbraddagh last year, an' a whean Irish had a bonefire, an' was heaping up the stickp. Ane o' them took the dog an' tin-owed it on the top o' the fire, an' says he, * The 'bone-

fire's nao good unless you tak' a life.' So the dog was roasted alive ; lor its master feared to say a word, being hia lane amang them. He might ha' been throwed on the fire himser an' feen a crathur wad ha' knowed what had come o' him, for there wasna a man o' his am kind in sight." We visited other cottages, and had interviews with other labourers in the fields ; and my companion began to comprehend the existance of an undying enmity on the side of the Celtic race, and of lively suspicion and terror on that of the ScotchIrish.