t's hut, but perhaps I am fastidious. So far as I
make it out, about 6 per cent. has been charged for building and other
improvements to the tenant, whose rent has thus in one case been
raised by 2s. 6d., and in others by as much as 3s. 3d. per acre. As
the entire rent in one case reaches 8s., and in the other 10s. 9d. per
acre, it does not seem enormous; but it is no business of mine to
decide on value. I only state facts as distinctly as I can, and
whether the rent be light or heavy there is no doubt that the tenants
have paid it with some approach to regularity even up to date, and
that the local agitation is deprived of much of its effervescence
owing to this fact. Against this fair side of the picture is the
awkward truth that during the bad times of last winter the Valentians,
including the tenants of the Knight of Kerry and those of Trinity
College, received about 1,200l. worth of relief among a couple of
thousand souls.

It is equally worthy of remark that those tenants for whom new houses
have been built are by no means enthusiastic about them, and
apparently would rather save the rent of them and live in a rough
stone cabin as of old. I am aware that in making this statement I am
liable to a charge of prejudice against the ignorant people, of whom I
can only speak with pity not unmixed with kindness. I may be told that
pigs were thought to be dirty until people took to keeping them clean,
and that the animals are known to prefer their last state to their
first. I may also be told that filth is the outcome of poverty, and
that the Irish peasantry are filthy in their habits because they are
poor. Now, to speak out plainly, this is not true; for I have seen
people with a round sum on deposit at the bank, and in one case paying
as much as 250l. rent for their farms, living amid almost
indescribable filth. The dislike of soap and water, except for the
visible parts of the human body on high days and holidays, appears to
be part of the general indifference to beauty remarkable in the Irish
peasant. His cottage is never adorned with flowers. Neither rose,
honeysuckle, nor jasmine clings around his door. In a climate which
allows fuchsia hedges to grow and bloom luxuriantly none appear round
the peasant's garden. Myrtles, laurel, and bay there are in plenty at
Valentia, but they are grouped near the gigantic fuchsia bush at
Glanleam, or nestle among the houses of the telegraphic company. It is
the same in other place