Clonakilty is another little town thronged with small traders and places
"licensed to sell." As we passed east the long boundary walls that
enclose gentlemen's plantations begin to prevail.
A little way, maybe two miles, out of Clonakilty is the property of Mr.
Bence Jones, who has created some stir in the world. One hears story
after story of his grasping and overbearing disposition. The chief
accusation is adding to a man's rent if his father dies. Case after case
of this was spoken of by the passengers on the car with me. Whether
these accusations against Mr. Bence Jones were true or false, here is
his place, and a very fine place it is. The lodge is at one side of the
road, the entrance to his residence at the other. The residence is very
nice, very commodious, and is at some distance from the road. The
property is extensive, but very poor land--mountain and bog. His walled-
in plantation ran along the road for quite a great distance. When they
spoke of him on the car the mere mention of his name caused the driver
to lose himself in profanity.
From Clonakilty to Bandon was a long, dreary drive, and the night had
fallen for some time, sharp and chill, before we entered the second time
into merry Bandon town.
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