My errand to Dunany Castle was, strictly speaking, to gather the
opinions of these gentlemen on the land question, but the quaint,
foreign look of the castle, and the historic names of Butler and
Bellingham, sent my mind off into the past, to the battle of the Boyne,
and into the dimness beyond, when the war cry of "A Butler" was a
rallying cry that had power in the green vales of Erin.
In the cold Celtic times when men held by the strong hand, the numerical
fighting power of the clan was of the utmost importance, a chieftain
being valued by the number of men who would follow him to the field. As
a consequence, men were precious. In these more peaceful times, when the
lords of the soil are rated by their many acres, lands, and not likely
lads, are the symbol of greatness.
Sir Allan Bellingham is such a fresh-looking active gentleman that I
could hardly bring myself to think that he had reached, by reason of
strength, the scriptural fourscore. I was almost too much taken up
admiring to think of the Land Question, but, after the fashionable five
o'clock tea, had some conversation with Sir Allan and Sir Thomas on the
subject.
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