Part 14 (1/2)

”If I have your word for that,” said Father McCormack, ”I'm satisfied.”

”I'm not a rich man,” said Dr. O'Grady. ”I can't afford to lose money, but I'll pay down 50 to any man who proves anything bad about the General. And when I say bad I don't, mean things like??”

”I understand you,” said Father McCormack.

”I mean,” said Dr. O'Grady, ”atheism of a blatant kind, or circulating immoral literature?Sunday papers, for instance?or wanting to turn the priests out of the schools, or not paying his dues??”

”I understand you,” said Father McCormack.

”I know what I'm talking about,” said Dr. O'Grady, ”for I've had a man looking up all that's known about General John Regan in the National Library in Dublin.”

CHAPTER VII

At the very bottom of the main street of Ballymoy, close to the little harbour where the fis.h.i.+ng boats nestled together in stormy weather, there is a disused mill. Corn was ground in it long ago. The farmers brought it from the country round about after the thres.h.i.+ng was over, and the stream which now flows idly into the sea was then kept busy turning a large wheel. Since the Americans have taken to supplying Ireland with flour ready ground, bleached, and fit for immediate use, the Irish farmers have left off growing wheat. Being wise men they see no sense in toiling when other people are willing to toil instead of them. The Ballymoy mill, and many others like it, lie idle. They are slipping quietly through the gradual stages of decay and will one day become economically valuable to the country again as picturesque ruins.

Few things are more attractive to tourists than ruins, and the country which possesses an abundance of them is in a fair way to grow rich easily. But it is necessary that the ruins should be properly matured.

No man with an educated taste for food will eat Stilton cheese which is only half decayed. No educated tourist will take long journeys and pay hotel bills in order to look at an immature ruin. The decaying mills of Ireland have not yet reached the profitable stage of development. Their doors and windows are still boarded up. Their walls are adorned with posters instead of ivy. No aesthetic archaeologist has as yet written a book about their architecture.

The Ballymoy mill was the property of Doyle. He bought it very cheap when the previous owner, a son of the last miller, lapsed into bankruptcy. He saw no immediate prospect of making money out of it, but he was one of those men?they generally end in being moderately rich?who believe that all real property will in the end acquire a value, if only it is possessed with sufficient patience. In the meanwhile, since buildings do not eat, and so long as they remain empty are not liable for rates, the mill did not cost Doyle anything. He tried several times to organise schemes by means of which he might be able to secure a rent for the mill. When it became fas.h.i.+onable, eight or ten years ago, to start what are tailed ”industries” in Irish provincial towns, Doyle suggested that his mill should be turned into a bacon factory. A public meeting was held with Father McCormack in the chair, and Thady Gallagher made an eloquent speech. Doyle himself offered to take shares in the new company to the amount of 5. Father McCormack, who was named as a director, also took five 1 shares. It was agreed that Doyle should be paid 30 a year for the mill. At that point the scheme broke down, mainly because no one else would take any shares at all.

A couple of years later Doyle tried again. This time he suggested a stocking manufactory. Stockings are supposed to require less capital than bacon curing, and, as worked out on paper, they promise large profits. Doyle offered the mill for 25 a year this time, and was greatly praised by Thady Gallagher in the columns of the Connacht Eagle for his patriotic self-sacrifice. Another large meeting was held, but once more the public, though enthusiastic about the scheme, failed to subscribe the capital. A great effort was made the next year to induce the Government to buy the building for a 1,000, with a view to turning it into a Technical School. A pet.i.tion was signed by almost everyone in Ballymoy setting forth the hungry desire of the people for instruction in the arts of life. Several Members of Parliament asked the Chief Secretary searching questions on the subject of the Ballymoy Technical School. But the Chief Secretary declared himself quite unable to wring the money out of the Treasury. Thady Gallagher wrote articles and made speeches which ought to have caused acute discomfort to the Prime Minister. But Doyle found himself obliged to give up the idea of a Technical School. He waited hopefully. In the end, he felt sure, some way of utilising the old mill would be found. In the meanwhile the building, though unprofitable to Doyle was not entirely useless. Its walls, boarded doors and windows, formed the most excellent place for the display of advertis.e.m.e.nts. The circuses which visited the town in summer covered a great deal of s.p.a.ce with their posters. When retiring members of the Urban District Council wanted to be re-elected they notified their desire by means of placards pasted on the walls of Doyle's mill. All public meetings were advertised there. Doyle himself made nothing out of these advertis.e.m.e.nts; but Thady Gallagher did. He printed the posters, and it was admitted by everyone that he did it very well.

Two days after his arrival in Ballymoy, Mr. Billing strolled down to the harbour. He was a man of restless and energetic disposition, but the visits which he received from Dr. O'Grady, and the speeches about Home Rule to which Gallagher subjected him, began to worry him. In order to soothe his nerves he used to spend an hour or two morning and evening looking at the fishermen who spent the day in contemplating their boats. There is nothing in the world more soothing than the study of a fisherman's life on sh.o.r.e. When he is at sea it is probably strenuous enough. But then he very seldom is at sea, and when he is he is out of sight. Having, so to speak, drunk deeply of the torpor of Ballymoy harbour, Mr. Billing turned his face towards the sh.o.r.e and looked at the wall of Doyle's mill. He was startled to find six new posters stuck on it in a row. They were all bright green. Mr. Billing read them with interest.

The announcement opened with a prayer, printed in large type:

”G.o.d SAVE IRELAND,”

GENERAL JOHN REGAN

This was repeated at the bottom of each poster in the Irish language, which Mr. Billing could not read. Next to the prayer, in very much larger type, came the words:

”A PUBLIC MEETING,”

Then, in quite small letters:

”WILL BE HELD ON TUESDAY NEXT AT 3 P. M.

IN THE MARKETSQUARE, OPPOSITE THE 'IMPERIAL HOTEL.'”

Mr. Billing read on and learned that Father McCormack would take the chair, that several distinguished Members of Parliament would address the meeting, that Mr. T. Gallagher, Chairman U. D. C., would also speak, and that?here the letters became immense?Mr. Horace P. Billing, of Bolivia, would give an account of the life of General John Regan, in whose honour it was proposed to erect a statue in Ballymoy.

Mr. Billing smiled. Then he turned and walked briskly to the hotel. He found Doyle and Thady Gallagher seated together on the bench outside the door. He addressed them cheerfully:

”Say, gentlemen,” he said, ”that doctor of yours seems to have got a move on this locality. The announcement of the meeting is a good thing, sure.”

”The doctor,” said Doyle, ”is a fine man; but it would be better for him if he'd pay what he owes. I'm tired, so I am, of trying to get my money out of him.”

”The doctor,” said Gallagher, ”has the good of the locality at heart, and whatever it might be that he takes in hand will be carried through.

You may rely on the doctor.”