Well, now, Paddy, of you we implore,
Don’t put us through Cloomagh any more;
For if you do you’re bound to die,
And we have the powder fresh and dry;
God bless the Cattle Drivers.”
The taxpayers are compelled to pay damages for all cases of cattle driving, for loss of business in boycotting, and for other claims growing out of such outrages. Usually the courts assess one pound per head for cattle where no harm is done, five pounds per head where an animal is injured, and about one-third as much for sheep. Most of the cattle driving and the boycotting is committed by irresponsible young men who are led by mischief-makers with private grudges, and they never reason for themselves. It goes without saying that the love of fighting is one of the most conspicuous traits of the Irish character. The history of Ireland from the foggiest period of the past is a tale of continuous warfare. In the early days fighting was the chief end and aim of men, and women fought beside their fathers and husbands and brothers until St. Patrick forbade them to do so. And they thought very little of the consequences.
The case was well stated in a little poem from an American paper that was shown me by a friend the other day:
“‘Who says that the Irish are fighters by birth,’
Says little Dan Crone;
‘Faith, there’s not a more peacable race on the earth