The Irish Land Question.

Cromwell Argus, Volume I, Issue 17, 9 March 1870, Page 3

The Irish Land Question.

The muse has not been si tent in proclaiming the wrongs of the poor and op- ' pressed tenants of Ireland: — Mr Allington, a Protestant, is a native of Ballyshannon,.in Donegal, and in his poem. " Lawrence Bloomfield in Ireland," he paints witb*great accuracy the different types of landlords and tenants, and the social condition of his native country. Take the case of Doran, a tenant. Hii father, in combat with a barren soil, succeeds after a long struggle in making ir productive. At first his three sons aid him ; then one emigrates, auother dies of hardship, and the eldest, Jack, labours on witli his father, acts as a drover of cattle for others, goes to Scotland and England to mow and reap, and returning, adds his gains to the farm. No lease can be obtained ; the father dies, and the son becomes tenant instead. He is soon taught the lesson—- ' 'Tis wise to show a miserable face ; A decent hat, a wife's good shawl or gown, For higher rent may mark the farmor down. Beside your window shun to plant a rose, Lest it should draw the prowling bailiffs nose ; Nor deal in whitewash, lest the cottage lie A target for the bullet of his eye. Rude be your feuco and field- if trig and trim A cottier shows them, all the worse for him. To scraps, beyond expenses, if he can, A silent, stealthy penny is the plan Of him who dares it—a suspected man ! With tedious, endless, heavy-laden toil, Judged to have thieved a pittance from the soil.' Jack's son, an active, energetic young peasant, in whose education he takes a pride, wishes, in the ardour of his youth, to give evidence of progress, and works to make their cabin" comfortable. The conflict between the instiots of an enterprising nature and the influence of lessons taught by sad experience' is thus told. The son was ' On house and field improvement bravely bent ; "My boy," said Jack, "you'll oidy raise tho rent, Or get us hunted from too good a place," And backed his fears by many a well-known cate. He praised their added room, but shook his head ; The small new dairy filled his soul with dread ; To cut a drain might dig their own pit-fall; Twere ostentation to rebuild a wall; And did they further dare to stub their whins, The Great Folk soon would visit all their sins. " We'll buy."—" But they won't sell."—"More rent we'll pay." " They'll charge three prices, or snap all away." What could Neal do ?—his parents getting old Detained him ; but his early hopes were cold. Improve they must not ; if permitted still To merely stay, 'tis at the Agent's will. They long have struggled, with some poor success; But well they know, should harder fortuna press, Their slow prosperity is thin and poor, And may not even petty rubs endure,' The serf-tenants are ' hemmed from tho former space of moor and turf; all privilege and profit from the land is for the ' Great Folk,' as they are called ; and there is no authority that inspires more awe than theirs—- ' Mark tho evil of a low estate : Not Poverty, but .Slavery—one man's fate Too much at mercy of another's will: Doran has prospered, but is trembling still. Our Agent's lightest word his heart can shake, The bailiffs bashy eyebrow bids him shake.'