ur forefathers led, and to
estimate, at least in a rough way, what they did for posterity.

Harris was moved to write his 'History of Down' by indignation at
the misrepresentations of the English press of his day. They had the
audacity to say that 'the Irish people were uncivilised, rude, and
barbarous; that they delighted in butter _tempered_ with oatmeal,
and sometimes flesh without bread, which they ate raw, having
first pressed the blood out of it; and drank down large draughts of
usquebaugh for digestion, reserving their little corn for the horses;
that their dress and habits were no less barbarous; that cattle
was their chief wealth; that they counted it no infamy to commit
robberies, and that in their view violence and murder were in no way
displeasing to God; that the country was overgrown with woods, which
abounded in wolves and other voracious animals,' &c. It was, no doubt,
very provoking that such stories should be repeated 130 years
after the plantation of Ulster, and Harris undertook, with laudable
patriotism, to show 'how far this description of Ireland was removed
from the truth, from the present state of only one county in the
kingdom.' The information which the well-informed writer gives is most
valuable, and very much to the purpose of our present inquiry.

More than half the arable ground was then (in 1745) under tillage,
affording great quantities of oats, some rye and wheat, and 'plenty
of barley,' commonly called English or spring barley, making excellent
malt liquor, which of late, by means of drying the grain with Kilkenny
coals, was exceedingly improved. The ale made in the county was
distinguished for its fine colour and flavour. The people found the
benefit of '_a sufficient tillage_, being not obliged to take up
with the poor unwholesome diet which the commonalty of Munster and
Connaught had been forced to in the late years of scarcity; and
sickness and mortality were not near so great as in other provinces of
the kingdom.'

Yet the county Down seemed very unfavourable for tillage. The
economists of our time, perhaps our viceroys too, would say it was
only fit for bullocks and sheep. It was 'naturally coarse, and full of
hills; the air was sharp and cold in winter, with earlier frosts than
in the south, the soil inclined to _wood_, unless constantly ploughed
and kept open, and the low grounds degenerated into morass or bog
where the drains were neglected. Yet, by the constant labour and