The land on both sides of the Boyne is dotted with houses and filled
with people, so the country looks more cheerful than in empty Mayo or
Roscommon. I spoke to a farmer who was looking hopefully at a large
field of oats, and asked him what rent he paid. Owing to his nearness to
Drogheda he paid L7 per acre. "How can you pay it?" I asked. "I can pay
it in good years well enough," he said. "What have you left for
yourself?" "I have the straw," he answered. I walked on and got weary
enough before I came to the iron bridge and the monument. The monument
has a very neglected, weather-stained appearance. Where Duke Schomberg
was said to have fallen there was a growth of red poppies. I plucked
some as a memorial of the place. I returned by the Meath side along a
lovely tree-shaded road.
Some work-people explained to me that the late severe winters had
destroyed the song birds of Ireland. I did not hear one lark sing in all
the summer since I came. These working people were all anxious to
emigrate if they had some means, and listened eagerly to the advantages
of Canada as a place for settlement.
I was one Sabbath day in Drogheda, and attended service in the
Presbyterian church there, which was opposite the spot where the great
massacre of women and children took place in Cromwell's time.
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