A cottier in Ireland is a poor man, who possesses from one to ten acres of land, upon which stands his habitation-mean, to be sure; but in what country do the poor possess splendid dwellings? For this holding he is generally obliged to work for his landlord-sometimes all, and sometimes half his time, according to the quantity of ground he occupies; but frequently he pays a cer tain rent, and employs his time in whatever way he thinks fit. Those who pay in labour are small cottiers, who have not more than two or three acres, which supply them with oats and potatoes; their employers, in almost every instance, being bound to give them feeding for a cow, and one or more sheep.

The nominal price of labourerssix or eight pence a day-sounds low; but it should be recollected that, in Ireland, the farm-servants are all boarded; and that those who are thus paid are constantly employed-in their own words-wet and dry. The cottier has his work always provided for him; and for this, if he has common industry, his family are put in possession of absolute abundance; for a single acre of land, properly cultivated, will produce him at least sixty pounds of potatoes for every day in the year, while his cow supplies him with milk; and, as he can keep a pig, a goat, sheep, poultry, &c. he can have meat, drink, and clothes.

We have been thus particular in describing the condition of the Irish peasant, because it is neither known to himself nor the legislature, to the people of England nor the inhabitants of Ireland. In this, as in many other instances, prejudice has blinded men to facts; and the prevalence of erroneous opinions has produced discontent in one portion, and a disposition in the other to destroy a system which keeps down the price of labour, without making the labourer a pauper.

The description we have given is founded on facts. Are our conclusions wrong? We think not, because we have the reverse of the picture, and its consequence, at the present moment in England, where the manufacturing and agricultural

labourers are in a condition miserable in the extreme. It must be unnecessary to refer to authorities in proof of this assertion, as a late Report of a select committee of the House of Commons must be fresh in the recollection of our readers, and the journals of the day contain sufficient proofs of the pitiable situation of the cotton-spinners. It is on record that agricultural labourers in England scarcely ever taste meat, never have a sufficiency of food for themselves and families, are in most instances dependent on the parish for the miserable pittance they receive, and are nearly all prone to thieving. Are the cotton-spinners, a numerous body, better off? Their own uncontradicted Reports reply in the negative. Let the advocates of large farms and manufacturing monopoly account, if they can, for this state of things, without confuting their own theories: at all events let them cease to condemn a system which, in Ireland, we are proud to say, has prevented such extensive misery as is now visible throughout Great Britain.

An intel

If the view we have taken is wrong, we are glad to err in good company; for we have some admirable authorities on our side. ligent, and, we will add, a wise Englishman, a Mr. Phillips, landsurveyor and civil engineer, who was much employed in the south of England, gave the following testimony before the Lords' committee on the Corn Laws, in 1814 :

In many places,' said Mr. Phillips, there were thirty or sixty farmers in a where I have been surveying, where parish, it has been reduced to the small number of four or five, and some parishes occupied by one man; large districts of country in the occupancy of the possessor; where there were formerly a great many farm-houses, there is probably only a bailiff. The horror this system creates among mankind generally, and in parishes, is inconceivable. In support of this argu

ment, my Lords, in the hands of the little farmers, an immense increase of food is brought to the public, from as it were the lap of the farmer's wife. In a little farm, where there is a dairy, the produce is not only the calves, but an immensity of butter and cheese; the refuse of a dairy will support a piggery; that kind of animal

:

food is reared in a very short time in immense quantities. Again, when a little farmer and his family will raise, from the little produce of his small farm, a dairy, the refuse of which supports a piggery, then comes the poultry. Where there is a cow-yard and a piggery, vast quantities of poultry indeed are produced with very little care, reared almost in the lap of the farmer's wife, nourished in her kitchen corner. I am not speaking theoretically now: mentioning only one parish will serve as a strong instance for the whole kingdom. Among all these different farmers, every labourer had a comfortable master, and every tradesman comfortable employ now hundreds or thousands in a parish are pauperised wherever there is a family of children; the milk-pails, which were principally the nutriment of families, are done away. The pig-styes are done away, they are not permitted: every man had formerly a pig in his stye, and another in his tub; the case is now different: I am now describing parishes in the way that they are throughout the country. The different markets, which were formerly abundantly, regularly, and well supplied, with not only the necessaries of life, but with a great part of the comforts, are now supplied in a very different way. -Deficient in the comforts, it is with extreme difficulty the great part of mankind can obtain the humble necessaries of life. -This evil, when the land is in few hands, is greatly increased by some of those few being country bankers, so that they can withhold the produce of the land till they obtain such prices as they wish

for.'

The cant has too long prevailed, among English and Scotch writers, to describe the Irish cottier not only as a burden to society, but as a miserable being, half naked, and half fed, deficient in strength* and energy; and, as it would appear, useful only as forming a living contrast to the English peasant. But hear Mr. Young on the subject; and it must be allowed he knew Ireland better than English writers and Scotch reviewers: If any one doubts the comparative plenty which attends the board of a poor native of England

and Ireland, let him attend to their meals. The sparingness with which our labourer in England eats his bread and cheese (even in Mr Young's time) is well known: mark the Irishman's potatoe-bowl placed on the floor, the whole family on their hams around it, devouring a quantity almost incredible; the beggar seating himself to it with a hearty welcome, the pig taking his share as readily as the wife; the cocks, hens, turkeys, geese, the cur, the cat, and, perhaps, the cow-and all partaking of the same dish. No man can have often been a witness of it without being convinced of the plenty, and, I will add, the cheerfulness, which attends it.'

When I see the people of a country with well-formed vigorous bodies, and their cottages swarming with children when I see their men athletic and their women beautifulI know not how to believe them subsisting on unwholesome food‡.'

Mr. Wakefield attempts to deny Mr. Young's statement, but in a way that confirms what he meant to disprove. Give an English labourer,' says he, two acres of land, (about three and a half English,) a cow, and a pig, and what will he be at the end of two years? Not a labourer, but a small farmer, thriving and laying by money; his children well clad, and his whole family eating meat and drinking good beer.' What a lesson does this short extract convey to the peasantry of Ireland! and how, we would ask, can a poor man be sooner placed in a state of comparative comfort than by giving him a few acres of land? Talk not of want of capital; the necessary implements of husbandry are easily procured, a spade and a shovel cannot cost much, and seed potatoes are cheap enough in Ireland. At another time, perhaps, we shall expose the fallacy of Scotch philosophers' reasoning against the use of potatoes as a prin

+ Arthur Young's Tour in Ireland.

cipal article of food; for the very attributes for which they condemn them are those that should make their adoption universal.

Our table of farms establishes three important facts:-first, that, though cottiers are numerous, large farms are in abundance: secondly, that the population of Ireland is far from being superabundant; and, lastly, that the people cannot be idle. It must be needless to offer any explanation, for it will be seen at once that, were every individual capable of working out of the five millions employed in agriculture alone, they would all have more than they could do. At particular seasons there may be partial idleness; but, estimating things as they actually are, it is impossible that any one who chooses to work can be permanently unemployed. During the war it is well known that corn, in many places, perished for want of reapers: surely discharged soldiers have not increased the population to such an extent as to make that now difficult which in 1812 was superabundant.

A numerous population is absolutely necessary to prosperity. When Sicily was the granary of Rome she had eight millions of inhabitants; at present she has scarcely more than two, and yet exports little or no grain This is the history of Egypt, Assyria, Greece, and Asia Minor; and, when Spain was great and prosperous, she had twice her present population.But, without going out of Ireland, we have a proof that small farms and dense population are not inconsistent with the highest state of cultivation and prosperity. In the county of Wexford the two baronies of Forth and Bargie are cases in point. All agree in ascribing to these the extreme of happiness and good order. Such they

were, at all events, in 1800; and, according to Mr. Fraser's survey, there was then, on an average, a house in the parishes of Drennan and Killinic to every eight acres, while in no parish were there more than twenty acres to a house. In the disturbed districts this is far from being the case.

At present we shall not enter into the question of barbarism' and education; but merely say that a population evidently more honest and moral than countries which boast of perfect. civilization, cannot, in our opinion, be called barbarous, nor the people ignorant where education is universal. †

We have thus laboured to demonstrate that the evil which goads Ireland to madness is not founded in her circumstances; and that, though her local grievances may be numerous and irksome, the cause of universal discontent originates in political disqualification. We solicit attention to the facts we have stated; and, if our inferences have been just, we would implore the friends of Ireland-of emancipation-of truth-to forego their common topic-Irish misery, and cease to supply their opponents with arguments against their cause, and invectives against their country.

Misrepresentation highly injurious to the character of Ireland has gone abroad, and none know the extent of its evil influence but those who have mixed in English and Continental society; for, even in France, Irish ignorance, superstition, and poverty, is a common subject of conversation. That Ireland is undeserving of these imputations we firmly believe; and, notwithstanding all that has been said on the sufferings of that kingdom, we are confident that emancipation is a panacea that would cure them all.

THE DUBLIN LIBRARY.

THE Dublin Library is a place where the stranger, without being at much trouble, may become acquainted with nearly all that is remarkable

in the politics or the literature of the Irish metropolis. He who would enjoy this intellectual treat in perfection must visit the spot upon the sabbath: then comes forth the sage

VOL. I.-No. I.

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Fellow, or the studious jib, from the gloomy recesses of his college; then the overwrought lawyer stands disengaged; then starts out the drowsy journalist from his inky labour: the man of trade drops in, and ventures to talk about uncommercial matters, without the fearful apprehension of being pointed at as an airy politician; even the mere idler feels something in the air of the place, or sees something in the features of those around him, which brings with it a gleam of encouragement, making him less ashamed of his lazy vocation. All seem willing to indulge for the time in the luxury of relaxation-all seem disposed to listen or to talk, without caring what may be the subject, or whither it may lead them.

me.

Shortly after my arrival in Dublin I accompanied a friend to this strange gathering-place. On entering we proceeded up stairs to what is termed the Reading Room. It is a fine apartment, filled almost to the top with a collection of very rare and very valuable works. Here the most profound silence prevailed: a few pale studious-looking young men were seated at the desks and in the gallery. A fine portrait of the celebrated John Philpot Curran ornaments the room. 1 looked around In this place,' thought I, there is nothing remarkable-let us see if any thing new will present itself below!' We proceeded to the Conversation Room, and here at once I found myself encircled by some of the most remarkable characters of the day. On the end of a long table, with his dark frock and broad hat, sat O'Connell: he was surrounded by a knot of friends or of followers, all apparently anxious to catch his scattering remarks, or to urge, in a lowly and modest tone, some observation of their own. I gazed for a moment upon the great leader. I could not avoid observing to my friend that Nature seemed to have formed this man for playing something more than an ordinary part. Independent of his intellectual powers (and these are of no common cast), his figure, voice, and manner, have something in them calculated at once to win and overawe the mul

titude. Sitting at some distance from the group that encircled O'Connell, with his chin resting on his hand, and his 6 eyes upturned as one inspired,' I beheld his friend and fellowlabourer, Sheil. He was engaged in conversation with two persons immediately opposite: I was struck by the rapidity of his utterance, and the extreme sharpness of his tones. A stranger, at the first view, could hardly suppose that such a man would be likely to distinguish himself as an orator. He labours under many disadvantages; but where is the disadvantage that genius will not surmount? where is the difficulty that zeal and perseverance will not ultimately remove?

I advanced with my friend towards the centre of the room. We found, in the crowd about O'Connell, many of those whose names appear in the newspapers as speakers at the meetings of the Association. The subject which now engaged their attention was the old one: they were numbering over their grievances, dwelling upon their wrongs, and giving free expression to their feelings of either hope or despondency as regarding the future: they were giving a hearty condemnation to the character and the principles of their interested enemies, and paying the cordial tribute of honest gratitude to their wellmeaning and enlightened friends. On this point, however, I perceived that some difference of opinion prevailed. Who were the friends, and who were the enemies, of the cause? This was not a matter that seemed likely to be easily arranged; this was not a question that could be hastily answered. I listened attentively.

The Dissenters of the North are enlightened and liberal,' said John Lawless, of Belfast.

I deny it,' replied O'Connell, have they not degenerated into Orangeisin ?'

;

'True!' added O'Reilly of Cavan 'they have not dealt fairly with their poor Catholic neighbours, and on the next day of meeting I shall move'

'Move out of my way,' said the secretary, O'Gorman; I am sick of your motions, your bigotry, and your hair-splitting.'

I shall move,' said O'Reilly