d
there is no public sentiment that can affect them. They are the
complete despots of the countryside. If a man does not like their
domination, he leaves the district; he knows that it is vain to resist
it. In this way many rural districts are depopulated, or kept
under-populated, simply to gratify the selfish temper of a great
proprietor. It is not as though he lived in the district, and wished
to keep its beauties secret to himself; often enough he visits it so
rarely that his face is not known among his tenants. No; but he must
have everything to himself; he must round off his estate; he must look
from his park on nothing which is not his; for your rural Ahab could
not sleep with a Naboth's little vineyard even a mile away. It is
useless to tell him that the land you want is waste natural land, on
which you propose to confer value; he prefers that it shall be
valueless, rather than that it shall be yours. Before population can
be re-distributed to the advantage of town and country alike, this
difficulty must be overcome. It can only be overcome by drastic
legislation. Compulsory purchase, regulated by an equitable land
court, is the only remedy; and it is hard that Irishmen should have,
and grumble over, privileges which their English brethren would receive
with open arms.

Such were some of the discoveries which I made when I came to the real
business of finding a humble country residence. In my ignorance and
inexperience it had seemed the easiest thing in the world. After a
fortnight of experiment I began to think it was the hardest.

CHAPTER VII

I FIND MY COTTAGE

In the meantime a circumstance had occurred which was of great
importance to me. Some enterprising spirits had started a new weekly
local paper, and--_mirabile dictu_--they actually contemplated a
literary page! With a faith in suburban culture, so unprecedented as
to be almost sublime, these daring adventurers proposed giving their
readers reviews of books, literary gossip, and general information
about the doings of eminent writers. They offered the work to me at
the modest honorarium of two pounds a week, and were willing to give me
a three years' agreement. They were frank enough to acknowledge that
their journal was likely to die of 'superiority to its public,' long
before the three years were over; but, barring this disaster, they gave
me assurance of regular employment. This was the very thing for me.
One could write a