Early on Tuesday
morning I was awakened, long before daylight, by the whistling of
engines, the shunting of wagons and the shouting of men. My friend Atock
and I rose early, went along to the loading banks where we found the work
in full swing and one special train loaded with sheep ready to start. The
entraining of sheep, not so difficult or so noisy a business as the
loading of cattle, is attended with much less beating of the animals and
with fewer curses; but there was noise enough, and I can, in fancy, hear
it ringing in my ears now. Throughout the day I was besieged by
grumbling and discontented customers: want of wagons, unfair
distribution, favouritism, delays, were the burden of their complaints,
and I had to admit that in the working of the Ballinasloe fair traffic
all was not perfect. The rolling stock was insufficient; trains after a
journey to Meath or Dublin with stock had to return to Ballinasloe to be
loaded again, which was productive of much delay; and what added to the
trouble was that everyone seemed to have a hand in the management of the
business. It gave me much to think about.
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