other one man who could be named in Ireland.

He often said to me:--

'The system of small farms will not last long in Ireland, for the
occupiers are sure to strike against rents.'

He did not live to see the fulfilment of his prophecy, but its effects
were felt by his grandson, Sir George Colthurst, who inherited his
property.

Most of his stories were very improper, but their wit excused them.

In the Kildare Street Club one day he saw a very pompous individual, and
asked who he was.

'That's So-and-So, and the odd thing is he is the youngest of four
brothers, who are all married without having a child between them.'

'Ah, that accounts for his importance--he is the last of the Barons.'

Finding him very meditative in the County Club at Cork one Friday, I
asked him what was the matter.

'I am making my soul,' said he. 'I began my dinner with turbot and ended
with scollops.'

CHAPTER VI

FAMINE AND FEVER

It is now necessary to revert to that terrible page of Irish history,
the famine, which culminated in what is still known as 'the black
forty-seven.'

I have often been asked, 'How is it that Ireland could formerly support
a population of eight millions as compared with only five now?'

The answer is simple: Eight millions could still exist if the potato
crop were a certainty, and if the people were now content to exist as
they did then. But to the then existing population--living at best in a
light-hearted and hopeful, hand-to-mouth contentment--there was a
terrible awakening.

The mysterious blight, which had affected the potato in America in 1844,
had not been felt in Ireland, where the harvest for 1845 promised to be
singularly abundant. Suddenly, almost without warning, the later crop
shrivelled and wasted.

The poor had a terribly hard winter, and the farmers borrowed heavily to
have means to till a larger amount of land in 1846.

Once more the early prospects were admirable, and then in a single night
whole districts were blighted.

This is how Mr. Steuart Trench described the catastrophe:--

'On August 1, 1846, I was startled by a sudden and strange rumour that
all the potato fields in the district were blighted, and that a stench
had arisen emanating from their decaying stalk. The report was true, the
stalks being withered; and a new, strange stench was to be noticed which
became a well-known feature in 'the blight' for years after. On being
dug up it was found that the potat