“I rather think,” said Angus, “that the first consequence would be that there would soon be no landlords. All land would be in the possession of those who would cultivate it themselves, and then, in consequence of a fall of prices, inferior lands would be let out of tillage, there would be less food raised, and things would go back to the state they were in centuries ago.” “But if not,” persisted Fergus,—“if they did not sell their land, but lent it without receiving any pay, bread would be cheaper surely, and that would be a good thing.” “Far from it,” replied Angus. “The next thing would be that we should have a famine.” “A famine from bread being cheaper!” “Yes; for you must remember that we could not make the ground yield in a hurry any quantity of grain we might happen to want. We have already seen that land would not produce more for rent being abolished, and we shall soon see that it would produce less; and if less was produced while the price was so lowered as to tempt people to consume more, a famine would soon overtake us.” “If,” said Ella, “we have no more oatmeal in the islands than will last till next harvest at the present price, and if people are tempted to use more by the price being lowered, do not you see that the supply will fall short before harvest? And then again, the lowering of the price will have made it no longer worth while to till much that is tilled now, and there will be still less produced next year.” “In order to keep up the same extent of tillage,” said Angus, “how high must the price rise again?” “To what it is now, to be sure,” replied Ronald. “I see what you mean:—that we must come round to rent-price again, even if the landlords did not take rent. So, Mr. Callum, I beg your pardon for being angry about Ella’s field; and I will say no more against rent being paid for it, or for my line of shore, or for whatever will bear proper rent.” “Your sister has made you a sensible lad,” was Mr. Callum’s reply, “and that is more than I can say for most lads I meet in the islands. They grumble at me, and tell all strangers about the hardship of paying high rents, and the shame that rich men should empty the pockets of the poor.” “And what do strangers say?” inquired Ella. “They look with contempt upon the tumble-down dirty huts in which the people live, and ask what rent; and when they hear, they hold up their hands and cry out upon the laird.” “Not distinguishing, I suppose, between the real and nominal rent.” “Just so. They do not inquire how much is for the fishery, and how much for the land, and how much for the kelping-shore, and how very little for the house; but they run away with the idea that the total rent is for the roof and four walls, and tell their friends at home how hard the Highland proprietors are upon their tenantry.” “But is it not possible to make the people understand the true state of the case?”