ges and good
qualities of the soil, he is not only discharging an important duty to
himself and his landlord, but also to his children's children after him;
and the result is, that the comfort, contentment, and self-respect which
he gains by the consciousness of his security, are evident at a glance
upon himself, his house, and his holding. On the other hand, reverse
this picture, and what is the consequence? Just what is here visible.
There is a man who may be sent adrift on the shortest notice, unless
he is base enough to trade upon his principles and vote against his
conscience. What interest has he in the soil, or in the prosperity of
his landlord? If he make improvements this year, he may see the landlord
derive all the advantages of them the next; or, what is quite as likely,
he may know that some Valentine M'Clutchy may put them in his
own pocket, and keep the landlord in the dark regarding the whole
transaction. What a bounty on dishonesty and knavery in an agent is
this? How unjust to the interest of the tenant, in the first place--in
the next to that of the landlord--and, finally, how destructive to the
very nature and properties of the soil itself, which rapidly degenerates
by bad and negligent culture, and. consequently becomes impoverished
and diminished in value. All this was evident as we went along. Here was
warmth, and wealth, and independence staring us in the face; there was
negligence, desponding struggle, and decline, conscious, as it were, of
their unseemly appearance, and anxious, one would think, to shrink away
from the searching eye of observation.

"'But here again, Raymond; what have we here? There is a fine looking
farmhouse, evidently untenanted. How is that?'

"'Ha, ha,' replied Raymond with a bitter smile, 'ha, ha! Let them take
it, and see what Captain Whiteboy will do? He has the possession--ha,
ha--an' who'll get him to give it up? Who dare take that, or any of
Captain Whiteboy's farms? But sure it's not, much--only a coal, a
rushlight, and a prod of a pike or a baynet--but I know who ought to
have them.'

"The house in question was considerably dilapidated. Its doors were not
visible, and its windows had all been shivered. Its smokeless chimneys,
its cold and desolate appearance, together with the still more ruinous
condition of the outhouses, added to the utter silence which prevailed
about it, and the absence of every symptom of life and motion--all told
a tale which has left many