caricature-the feelings of old Indians. Believe me, however, it was not my intention, in my rather tedious exordium, to ridicule my Nabob, who possesses too many redeeming qualities to excite my satirical vein. It is my anxious wish to place before gentlemen in India, the absurdity of attributing to things, that distaste, which they must inevitably feel for their native climate, and for all they experience some time after their return. Till new habits are acquired, or rather till original ones are roused from their graves, and cease to frighten by their ghastly aspects, they must bear chagrin, and struggle with the sore hyp of melancholy discontent. The cruelty of holding such a character as the Nabob, with his family, up to public scorn, is not in my nature. His daughters were sweet accomplished girls; his sons were brave gentlemen. He was, it is true, of the old school, and an eccentric little man into the bargain; but he loved Old England, Scotland, and Ireland, though he abused them; he was loyal to his king; his wealth profited the peasantry around him; he established schools; he fed the hungry, he helped to clothe the naked. I, therefore, reprobate the literary practice of making

all Nabobs appear ridiculous, on account of their oddities; and all attorneys rogues, on account of

their profession.

his agent as they

I shall paint my Nabob and

were, and not as such people are supposed to be. What if Mr. Wilford's song were only one note, like the cuckoo's, horrible, horrible! horrible!! might he not be respectable in his silence, and as useful as the bird to which I have alluded, which is supposed to preserve every thing on which her saliva falls; or, as deserving of notice as the owl, which is not the most agreeable companion, and yet treats us to many a choice fruit by watching our gardens ?

Yes, the Nabob was an excellent man, and a curious one. He would refuse to lend a shilling, yet he would give a hundred pounds to relieve distress. His agent was also a benevolent, worthy

man.

Take the following instance in proof.

Instead of amusing Mr. Wilford with imaginary expectations of a rise in rent, and an increase in the value of the Mullinabrack estate, Mr. Bernard M'Mahon fairly stated that the lands were set at too high an acreable rent." Your estate, sir," said he, "may be made valuable by loss."-" That I do

not comprehend," replied the Nabob; "it is perfectly Irish to me." "Permit me then to elucidate the seeming paradox," answered the agent. "Terrible!" exclaimed the Nabob; " but I must listengo on."

"In this wretched country, where scarcely a landlord understands his real interest, almost every farm is at a rack rent. Our population has increased so monstrously since the introduction of the potatoe, and the Roman Catholics have acquired so much property by the operation of acts of parliament and successful industry, that, during the war, when agricultural produce brought an artificial price, almost any rent was offered for land in the scramble for farms. When peace restored things to a natural state, you would conceive that common sense dictated the line of conduct to landlords-the reduction of rent to a marketable standard. Gentlemen had, by this time, however, got into a habit of expenditure commensurate with income. They had to pay an enormous price for their wines and other luxuries, now indeed become necessaries to your rank, and even to mine. Our landlords are nearly all absentees. Their agents were as usual pressed

means;

bills came upon

for money;
them so fast that nomode
of payment presented itself, but by forcing tenants to
pay rent out of capital. This soon exhausted their
their houses and stock went to ruin; they
became languid and enervated under the influence
of poverty and hopelessness; the provincial banks,
unsupported by the agricultural interests, failed,
and universal distress followed. Your predecessor
was a needy, extravagant man; and though his
agent reduced the rents a little, all the new leases are
still too high for a wholesome profit to the farmer.
You, sir, see, with the warm feelings of a benevo-
lent heart, the squalid and sickly, half-naked inmates
of our cabins !—Nothing can change this, but habits
of industry generated by hope and fair reward.
Our peasantry are charged with outrage and atrocity,
as though they were naturally akin to that class of
men who have sometimes practised as butchers,
though blessed with rank and fortune, that their
delight in blood might be satiated; yet no hearts
can be more tender and humane than Irishmen's.
How can they be quiet and happy who are starving?
Are not robberies, murders, and other atrocities,
the natural offspring of despairing want? You,

A

sir, have the power of banishing these horrors from your estate. Let the lands be set at calculated rents, leaving a fair reward for labour and capital. Then all your farm-houses will smile, your tenants will exhibit faces of joy, and you, sir, will receive, not a nominal income, but a real, well paid re

venue.

During this speech the Nabob several times exclaimed, "Terrible, terrible!" but, at last, giving his hand to Bernard M'Mahon, with a tear standing in his eye, he said :

"Bernard, make my tenants happy, if it should require all Mullinabrack to do so.-Terrible, terrible!-Providence has given me wealth only in trust for mankind!"

You may rest assured, gentle reader, that Catholic Emancipation alone will never tranquillize the miserable south of Ireland, and that Mr. M'Mahon has touched the right cause of the Rock system. As soon as British capital, and some extensive manufacture, shall have given habits of industry to the people, you will hear no more of Captain Rock in the south than you do in the north, where the linen trade offers proper reward for labour. To