Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1883-08-15
MISERY IN IRELAND.
A Story of Terrible Neglect on Loughres Estate
Course of the Poor-Isw GuardisRs---The
Shipment of Paupers to America.


Shipment of Paupers to America.
A correspondent of the Philadelphia
| Press writes from LOughrea, Ireland
Twenty-six thousand people are buried
IN and about the fields of the workhouse
of Loughrea. Brutality is practiced as
| a fine art by the officers connected with
that institution. They serve the land
| lords faithfully.
| attended q meeting of the poor-Iaw
guardians of that institution and of the
barony of Loughrea day or two since.
| Two columns would not tell the tales of
distress that the routine business
brought to light. Besides the few people
| who are in the workhouse-the people
| prefer to starve to going there-there
are $50 persons on outdoor relief.
/ These people remain in their little
cabins and expend the money given them
| for food at home. What do you think
| each person was allowed for the week
| What would amount to about Is cents
| in America. Even at that pittance, it is
! cheaper to ship them abroad than to
maintain them year or two. And
emigrate them they will. [ myself heard
the calculations. 1t was agreed that 1t
was cheaper to ship them, and land them
with a few pounds each in pocket, to de-
feat the American pauper emigrant law,
than TO maintain them at home.
| The land is being gathered In as fast
as evictions can doit, and turned under
grass for grazing. There are no indus
tries. The people can not be else but
paupers. In every application for emf
grafton, the logic that was used by an
| IooJlOrJ mann l0ar of tho
board of guardians, was that if they were
not granted the money, they might be-
come inmates of the workhouse, or per-
manent. on the outdoor relief list, and
therefore the money ought to be grant
ed. Tomorrow, or Friday, it is intend
ed that batch of assisted emigrants
shall leave Loughrea for America
Yiay Galway. Each will be provided with
money to take him west on landing. [
find these poor guardians are fearful OF
publicity. They are uneasy at my being
here. As a,matter of fact, thing l have
not heretofore mentioned, ever since l
came into this distressed country [ have
been under strict police surveillance.
On demonstrating am told to read the
American papers as to the meet ngs and
doings of the dynamite advocates, and /
will be rather surprised at not being ar
rested and sent home than annoyed at
unmolesting surveillance.
/ have gone about a great deal in the
surrounding country here. [ have re-
ceived no little aid In my searchings for
news from the venerable DR.. Duggan,
the Catholic bishop of this place. He
is thoroughly in sympathy with the peo-
pie. For that the landlords have boy
cotted him. No man, layman or pre-.
late, is looked upon with greater love,
confidence and reverence than the
bishop. Independent of his patriotism
his practical charity among these starv-
ing people entities him to every consid-
Grafton. He tells me that he is the
grateful recipient of sums of money
from priests, bishops, and laymen in
America to dispense In his own way
here among the thousands of needy.
| Within this month he has established a
knitting industry in this town. A young
lady's services has been secured to go
into each of the little novels and teach
the wife and girls how to knit. Then
coarse work is given out, for which a
small sum is paid to each person. The
knitting is done in idle hours, and serves
to establish habits of industry and to
help to support the families.
On Sunday last gentleman came to
the MOTEL ard asked me to accompany
him few miles out Of town to an estate
called "Holy Hill, which belongs to a
man named Michael I. DAILY. After a
drive of three miles on a road bound on
either side by sheep pastures and graz
ing fields, we got from the car and
walked about half a mile across the
grass fields to a small gathering of little
stone huts on a stony roadside. On one
of these half the thatch roof was gone:
the remainder was cid and growing
weeds. It looked like a careless far
mer's cow shelter. There was no door
to the opening. Into that place the
gentleman took me. The ground was
damp and muddy. Up in the corner,
and against the wall, was a small pile
of straw, and on it were a few ragged
mems clothes. Right in the corner the
straw was raised by two large fiat rocks.
/ Near them were mouldering three small
chunks of turf,
/ "John! Johnl!" called my companion
loudly.
eyes, sir, yes sir" came a response
| from that heap of straw, and torn old
frieze coat was thrown back from the
conner, exposing the lett hand and head
of thin, hungry looking old man. The
gentleman told "John" who I was, and
from him [ learned bis own story. I
found, in talking to him, that his mind
was not clear, but it had force and
acuteness.
His name was John Burke. He was
70 years old. For forty years, with
short intervals, he had been on the Daily
estate. Most of that time he had worked
for the landlord. He was married in a
house that stood not far from where he
lay. His wife had been dead fourteen
years. Only daughter and son sur
vive. The fornler lives in Boston, and