sand pounds employed, and yet his annual savings would not exceed four hundred or five hundred pounds, even though he should live at one-fourth of the expenses of the tradesman. Were land to pay the same profits to owner and occupier that general trade pays, wheat would always be five or six pounds per quarter, and other produce in proportion; the whole profits of land, those of landlord and tenant jointly, fall greatly below those of trade. We recommend this to the attention of the people who are at this moment setting up an uproar against what they call the high prices of corn, and the monopoly of the agriculturists.

As the owner and occupier have to divide between them much less profit than the tradesman obtains for himself alone, if the owner were not content with a very trifling share, the occupier would never save a shilling. If the former did not possess an immense income, and of course an immense estate, he could not be so; and if his heart were not the noble one, the real British one, that it is, he would not be so. Whatever his income may be, he has no occasion to be satisfied with low rents. If he chose to let his land by competition, and to take all that he could obtain for it, he might monopolize every penny of the profits. Our land is so fully occupied, and a vacant farm can so rarely be met with, that a landlord may, at almost any time, obtain the last shilling of rent that will not absolutely ruin the tenant-he may, very often, obtain that shilling that will absolutely ruin the tenant. If the principle of supply and demand governed the rents of farms, our agriculture would speedily be involved in ruin. The princely liberality of the great landholders operates beyond their own estates. They regulate, to a great extent, the general rate of rents. The smallest proprietor will not let so cheaply as they do; his common excuse is, he cannot afford it; but their low rents have a mighty effect in preventing his from being very exorbitant. Long may these great landholders enjoy their magnificent fortuneslong may their immense estates remain without a single rood being subtracted from them! We breathe the wish for the sake of our country. Well would it be for the country if it knew how much it owes them in respect of wealth,

morals, order, and happiness of character, high feeling, glory, and great

ness.

The less the land has to pay to the landlord, the more it will be able to pay to the cultivators; the fewer landlords it has to maintain, the better able it will be to maintain the farmers and their labourers. We have said, that if the soil of England were divided among small proprietors, owning from 300 to 1000 acres each, rents would of necessity, in many cases, be doubled; they would in some be trebled. This advance could not be paid by even the whole of the farmers' present profits. He would, of course, be compelled to deprive himself of many things that he now regards as necessaries, and to starve his labourers. He would be able to save nothing to set his children forward in the world, and to enable one of his sons to succeed him. At his death, his farm would have to be divided. Subdivision and over-peopling must inevitably flow from rents that will not enable the farmer to make moderate savings. Now, in Ireland, it appears that comparatively small estates have to maintain four or five landlords, putting the tithes out of the question. For every acre of these estates, the cultivator has practically to pay four or five different rents to different landlords. Only one of these landlords has any interest in the welfare of the occupiers and the good condition of the property, and he perhaps never sees either. The other three or four have no interest, save to sponge from the cultivators the last penny in their power. When the aggregate profits of land are so small, it may easily be supposed that these four or five landlords lay their fingers upon every farthing that can by any stretch of language be called a part of these profits. They get every grain of corn, and every head of cattle; the very poultry cannot escape them. The cultivators have not even bread and water left them; they have only potatoes and water; they have just what will keep them from perishing, and nothing more.

Under such a system, a farmer may commence with a good capital, and a farm of good extent, and still, if his utensils wear out, his cattle die, or his corn be destroyed by the weather, he knows not how to replace them. He can lay by nothing for casualties. He

can save nothing to educate his sons for trade, or to establish them in trade. At his death, his property is divided among his children, and of course not one of them can take his farm; it has to be divided likewise. These children can neither increase their capital nor land, and therefore, when they die, both have farther to be divided. Capital is thus continually divided and diminished, until at length it wholly vanishes; and the land is continually divided, until at last it is cut into the smallest portions practicable. While, therefore, in England, 300 acres of land contribute only a trifling share to the income of one landlord, and are perhaps only burdened with about fourteen souls in their cultivation; 300 acres in Ireland have to pay rent to two, three, four, or five landlords, all of whom, save one, have an interest in exacting the utmost penny they can get; and after these landlords have got all they can obtain, the 300 acres have then to support 200, 400, or, at two acres to a family, 600 souls.

It is to us astonishing that the land can by any possibility be made to support so many people; but it is still more astonishing that any man can be found in Great Britain to vote for the retention of all the landlords. Ireland must be an incomprehensible country, if the annihilation of all of them save the one who has an interest in the weal of the tenantry and the good cultivation of the estate, and if the reduction of rents from three, four, or five pounds, to fifteen, twenty, or twenty-five shillings per acre, would not benefit the peasantry. If the wretched Irish cultivator, who sleeps upon straw, and never tastes bread or animal food, would not be greatly benefitted by having to pay for his three acres only three, instead of ten or twelve pounds-by having practically an addition made to his income of seven or nine pounds per annum-he must differ marvellously from all other human cultivators.

Some questions were put to the Parliamentary witnesses, as to whether the middle-men would not be a beneficial race, if they should be content with moderate rents, should build comfortable dwellings for the cultivators, &c. We cannot but smile at the simplicity of such questions. The middle-man takes land for no other earthly purpose than to make all the money

by it he can. Sub-letting is his trade, it is his means of providing for his family, and, like all other traders, he gets the highest price possible. If he were to take moderate rents, and to build comfortable dwellings for the peasantry, what would follow to himself? He would scarcely gain a shilling by his lease. It is, however, idle to argue the question: a man has only to look at Ireland to find it decided by the most appalling facts.

But it is said, that the middle-men are of some value in maintaining order. This is no doubt partly true; that would be a fearful plague, indeed, which should yield nothing but unmixed calamity. But it is only true to a certain extent. If they restrain turbulence with the one hand, they feed it with the other. The witnesses ascribe the turbulence in a great measure to excessive rents, want, and ignorance; and this, in reality, is ascribing it in a great measure to the middle-men. But no one dreams that the annihilation of the middle-men is all that is called for; it is only one of a series of necessary measures. The middle-men must be, as instruments of order, replaced by a yeomanry; and no yeomanry can be created while they exist. So long as they have the land in their hands, it will be impossible for the cultivators to increase their capital, or rather to acquire any. If the soil of Ireland were now divided into good-sized farms, and occupied by a respectable yeomanry, another generation or two would see it in its present state, if the middle-men had the letting of it. Ireland cannot possess both middle-men and a yeomanry; and the question is,-Which shall it possess?

We, of course, hold, that in the first place, the land, putting from before us the tithes, should be relieved from all rents but one-that all the landlords should be annihilated save one, save that one whose great wealth will enable him to be satisfied with moderate rents, and whose character, pride, dignity, and predilections, are, when things are suffered to take their natural course, deeply interested in the welfare of the cultivators, and the good condition of the estate. We shall never have any faith in political economy so long as it holds the contrary.

The burdens of the land would, by this alone, be considerably lightened.

In the second place, it should be as far as possible relieved from all but necessary cultivators. Economy in labour is quite as essential in agriculture as in trade, although the economists seem to think the contrary. The waste of labour appears to be so enormous in Ireland as to mock calculation. In England, a farmer and his wife, if they do a moderate share of the lighter work, with one female servant, three men, two boys, and a little occasional assistance-about eight men, women, and boys in all-can cultivate a farm of 300 acres. In Ireland, to allow six acres to each occupier, 300 acres have upon them fifty men alone, and perhaps nearly 150 men, women, and boys. To allow two acres to each occupier, 300 acres have upon them 150 men alone, and perhaps 450 men, women, and boys. We speak here of those inhabitants of the soil only who are able to work. The excess of labourers in Ireland only causes the land to be the worse cultivated. When we look at the descriptions which are given of Irish agriculture, we have no doubt that a good English or Scotch farmer would make the land yield double of what it yields at present; we have no doubt, that, allowing for the difference in the quality of the soil, Irish land at present only yields about half the produce of that of Britain.

If we raise the number of labourers on the English farm to twelve, on account of some soils requiring more la. bour than others, and take those on the same extent of land in Ireland at only 100, there will be on every 300 acres, in the latter country, eightyeight labourers who are not needed, who are perfectly useless, who are in truth a fearful impediment to advantageous cultivation. The English landlord only takes a small portion of the profits, therefore the farmer lives comfortably, and gives fair wages. The Irish landlords take so much, that the cultivators have scarcely anything left to subsist on. In Ireland, perhaps, fewer horses are kept; but then the landlords are more ravenous among the corn than the horses would be. The twelve English labourers have a greater sum to live on than the 100 Irish ones. If we assume the English village to contain on the average 4200 acres, there will be in every Irish village, possessing the same quantity of land, 1232 perfectly useless labourers.

If we assume that there are a million of labourers, men, women, and children, in Ireland, more than are wanted, and that these ought to earn on the aver age ten shillings per week, there is in this a dead loss of twenty-six millions annually; there is labour constantly unemployed to this value.

Many people seem to think early marriages a leading cause of this vast superabundance of agricultural population. We think very differently. The population of our villages seldom varies in number, while that of our towns and cities increases very greatly. Now, our villagers marry at a more early age than the inhabitants of cities and towns; and their marriages are the most fruitful, and, in proportion, the most numerous. Mortality is less, and labouring people reach a greater age in the village, than in the town and city. The fact is, the increase of population in our towns and cities is caused in a considerable degree by those who continually remove to them from the villages.

We have said, that in the English village, the division of the land is scarcely ever altered, and an additional cottage is scarcely ever built. It contains accommodation for as many inhabitants as it can fully and beneficially employ, in good times, but no more. The children, therefore, as they grow up, can only fill vacancies in it; they cannot form additional residents. Such as cannot find vacancies, are, in effect, compelled to emigrate to towns and cities. While the villages daily force from them all superfluous hands, the towns and cities daily need, and tempt, these hands to them.

Our towns and cities breed, comparatively speaking, no labourers; we, of course, mean the term to include only those who are commonly called labouring men, and not mechanics, and those who belong to working trades. The children of such a labourer in a town cannot be brought up to their father's calling; it will employ scarcely any but able-bodied adults. They therefore, of necessity, become errandboys and waiters at chop-houses, public-houses, &c.,-they become the domestics of respectable families,-they get employed in the low trades, &c. &c. The mass of these children rise in due time to the middling ranks of society. The gentleman's servant saves money, and takes a public-house; the

waiter at the chop-house, or coffeehouse, becomes the master of one; the baker, tailor, or shoemaker's boy, rises to be a master in the trade. Their children are, of course, to have something higher than their own callings, therefore, they are apprenticed to respectable grocers, drapers, &c. Of course, when the labourer of the town dies, he has no son to succeed him ; the vacancy must be filled by a labourer from the country;-when additional labourers are called for, he has no children to meet the call; these additional ones must be fetched from the villages. A constant demand consequently constantly exists in towns and cities for both the surplus labourers of the villages and their children. The villages, in fact, supply the labourers of the whole country.

This relates solely to labourers; but other means exist for carrying the surplus village population to large places. If a respectable farmer have four sons, he knows that he cannot procure farms for them all. He therefore rears, perhaps, two of them as farmers; one to succeed him, and another to take any farm that may chance to become va

cant.

The others he sends to a town as apprentices to some trade; and, in due season, he establishes them in some town as tradesmen. The sons of the village tradesmen, and of those labourers who, from having small families, are in comfortable circumstances, become the apprentices of the country tailor, shoemaker, blacksmith, &c.,and when their apprenticeship expires, they go to towns for improvement, and never leave them. In London, inquire among the labourers, and they are almost to a man from the country; inquire among the shopmen of any shop, and most of these are from the country; inquire among the low, small tradesmen, and many of these are of country extraction; inquire among the female servants, and a large portion of these are from the country.

Excellent means exist in England for promoting the due circulation of the population. According to the parliamentary evidence, the Irish peasant in some parts can scarcely be prevailed on to leave the place of his birth. This is nature. The case would be exactly the same with the Englishman in both town and village, if, like the Irishman, he were suffered to grow up to manhood on the same spot of earth-at the

same home. When people reach maturity in the same place, they become so blindly attached to it, and they imbibe so much fear and dislike towards all other places, that scarcely anything but compulsion can remove them.The mass of our villagers, particularly in the north of England, are compel led to leave their parents' firesides at the age of ten or fourteen, and they are then almost annually buffetted about from place to place until they marry. The boys, indeed, who are put to trade, remain a few years with the same master after they leave home, but they perhaps afterwards dwell with several different masters, and a certain period in the metropolis, before they establish themselves in business. The son and daughter of the labourer leave home altogether at the age we have mentioned; they are hired to the farmer, who boards and lodges them in his house. When they have spent a year with one farmer, they need a step of promotion, and an advance of wages, which it does not suit him to give; they therefore leave him, and are hired by another, whom they serve, perkaps, only a single year for the same reason. They thus scarcely ever remain more than two years with the same master, until they reach the age of twenty; and after this, they repeatedly change masters until they marry. At every change, they perhaps go to a different village, as well as to a different master. Statutes for the hiring of servants are held at the market-towns, and they are attended by the servants of a circuit of, perhaps, fifteen miles round. Here the principal hirings take place; the servant who has lived a year in one village is, perhaps, hired for the next year to another ten, fifteen, or twenty miles distant; he is again hired, perhaps, after twelve months expire, to another equally distant village.

This eradicates the prejudice in favour of the place of birth which is complained of in Ireland; it gives to the Englishman courage and will to go anywhere in search of a livelihood, and it puts the means into his power of going from one distant place to another. It keeps the population of the village at the proper point; it keeps the surplus hands continually floating towards the towns and cities. The farmer needs the greater part of these hands in their youth, when the townsman needs them not; when the former

has no farther occasion for them, then they are necessary to the latter. The male and female servants can never regard themselves as the fixed residents of any village until they marry; they cannot marry until they can find a vacant cottage, and they seldom can find such a cottage without finding a vacancy for a labourer. The poorlaws operate powerfully to prevent the population of the village from becoming too numerous, but of them more hereafter.

The great number, and flourishing condition of our towns and cities, enable them to constantly take off the surplus population of the villages; and their great number and flourishing condition flow in a large degree from the lowness of agricultural rents. We have said that the great landholder spends nearly the whole of his income in the metropolis, at a distance perhaps of 200 miles from his estate. But then he takes only a trifling share of the profits; the remainder is left to be expended on the land. The farmer enjoys a good income, and he can afford to pay reasonably good wages to his labourers: the soil is not burdened with more souls than it can employ. Almost every one is therefore a consumer of colonial produce and manufactured goods. A village that contains only 300 souls, that has no resident landlord or clergyman, and that has no inhabitant higher than a respectable farmer, sends perhaps two thousand pounds annually to the neighbouring market-town for the purchase of merchandize. Independently, therefore, of the sea-ports and manufacturing towns, good towns are to be found in every neighbourhood which take many of the village children as apprentices and servants, and then send them to the large places.

The towns of Ireland bear no proportion to the villages. It has comparatively no inland trade; the mass of the inhabitants consume nothing. The owner of the soil, in many cases, spends his income wholly out of the country; this, if the money were expended in England, would not perhaps differ very greatly in effect from the expenditure of the English landlord. But then after him comes another landlord, or perhaps more, to seize every farthing of those profits which ought to be enjoyed by the cultivators. Independently of this, the land

is so excessively overpeopled that it yields the least quantity of produce; the income that twelve people ought to have, has to be divided among more than one hundred, consequently scarcely any of it can be expended among the traders. The English village of four hundred souls maintains within it perhaps eight families, or thirty souls, by trade; it does this in addition to what it contributes to the trade of the neighbouring town. The Irish village can do nothing of the kind. What can the grocer and draper do among those who use no groceries and drapery-ware? What can the shoemaker do among those who wear no shoes, or the tailor among those who cover themselves with rage? What can the carpenter and blacksmith do among such cultivators as the Irish ones? How are the miller and butcher to live among people who eat no bread or animal food? In England an enormous quantity of labour is employed in conveying colonial produce and manufactures from the large to the smaller places; and in dividing, retailing, and making them up after they arrive; in Ireland, there is, comparatively speaking, scarcely any such employment for labourers. The merchant has comparatively no import trade, and the manufacturer no home trade: The towns can only employ a very small part of the superfluous village hands. Thus when labourers become too numerous, they destroy labour; their privations dry up many of its sources. If the labourers did not exceed the proper number, and if the cultivators were suffered to enjoy their just share of the profits of the soil, we think that there would be twice the quantity of work in Ireland that there now is, and that there would be four times the sum paid for work that is at present paid. If rents were reduced to the level of English ones, and the land divided like that of England, we think that half the superfluous village population would be almost immediately beneficially employed by the towns and the new country trade.

It may be that the village population of Ireland increases from early marriages more rapidly than that of England, but we suspect it does this in no considerable degree. Our villagers have generally been in the habit of marrying at an early age. truth seems to be that the English

The