on, had just then begun to attract notice; and theories were
rife in accounting for that singular and anomalous social condition,
which unhappily the experience of an additional half century has not
succeeded in solving.

Sir Marmaduke was well versed in these popular writings; he had the
"Whole State of Ireland" by heart; and so firmly was he persuaded
that his knowledge of the subject was perfect, that he became actually
impatient until he had reached the country, and commenced the great
scheme of regeneration and civilization, by which Ireland and her people
were to be placed among the most favoured nations. He had heard much
of Irish indolence and superstition--Irish bigotry and intolerance--the
indifference to comfort--the indisposition to exertion--the recklessness
of the present--the improvidence of the future; he had been told that
saint-days and holydays mulcted labour of more than half its due--that
ignorance made the other half almost valueless; he had read, that, the
easy contentment with poverty, had made all industry distasteful,
and all exertion, save what was actually indispensable, a thing to be
avoided.

"Why should these things be, when they were not so in Norfolk, nor in
Yorkshire?" was the question he ever asked, and to which his knowledge
furnished no reply. There, superstitions, if they existed--and he knew
not if they did--came not in the way of daily labour. Saints never
unharnessed the team, nor laid the plough inactive--comfort was a
stimulant to industry that none disregarded; habits of order and decorum
made the possessor respected--poverty almost argued misconduct, and
certainly was deemed a reproach. Why then not propagate the system
of these happy districts in Ireland? To do this was the great end and
object of his visit.

Philanthropy would often seem unhappily to have a dislike to the
practical--the generous emotions appear shorn of their freedom, when
trammelled with the fruit of experience or reflection. So, certainly
it was, in the case before us. Sir Marmaduke had the very best
intentions--the weakest notions of their realization; the most unbounded
desire for good--the very narrowest conceptions of how to effect it.
Like most theorists, no speculative difficulty was great enough to
deter--no practical obstacle was so small as not to affright him. It
never apparently occurred to him that men are not every where alike,
and this trifling omission was the source of difficulties, whi