feeble and faded specimens of humanity, remarkably quiet,
intelligent, and well-disposed--a law-abiding people, who shrink from
violence and outrage, no matter what may be their grievances. It is
cruel to load them too heavily with the burdens of life, and yet I am
afraid it is sometimes done, even in this county, unnecessarily and
wantonly. What I have said of the Downshire and Londonderry estates,
holds good with respect to the estates of the other large proprietors,
such as Lord Roden, the kindest of landlords, almost idolised, even by
his Catholic tenants; Lord Annesley; the trustees of Lord Kilmurray;
Sir Thomas Bateson, and others. But I am sorry to learn that even
the great county Down has a share of the two classes which supply the
worst species of Irish landlords--absentees who live extravagantly in
England, and merchants who have purchased estates to make as large a
percentage as possible out of the investment. It is chiefly, but not
wholly, on the estates of these proprietors that cases of injustice
and oppression are found. In the first class it is the agent that the
tenants have to deal with; and whether he be humane or not matters
little to them, for, whatever may be his feelings, the utmost penny
must be exacted to keep up the expensive establishments of the
landlord in England, to meet the cost of a new building, or the debt
incurred by gambling on the turf and elsewhere. Every transaction of
the kind brings a fresh demand on the agent, and even if he be not
unscrupulous or cruel, he must put on the screw, and get the money
at all hazards. I have been assured that it is quite usual, on such
estates, to find the tenantry paying the highest rent compatible with
the maintenance of bare life. There is in the county of Down a great
number of small holders thus struggling for existence. As a specimen
let us take the following case:--A man holds a dozen acres of land,
for which he pays 2 l. 10 s. per acre. He labours as no slave could be
made to work, in the summer time from five o'clock in the morning till
six in the evening. He can hardly scrape together a pound beyond the
rent and taxes. If a bad season comes, he is at starvation point: he
falls into arrears with the landlord, and he is forced by the bailiff
to sell off his small stock to pay the rent.

Without the excuse of pecuniary difficulties, the merchant landlord is
not a whit less exacting, or more merciful. He looks upon the tenants
as he would on