Travelling by railway is singularly favourable to reflection, particularly when one is alone in the compartment and the country on either side utters little of interest. Whilst the locomotive speeds on, without too much hurry, in the direction of Limerick, I reflect over all that I have seen in the last three days. What a singular social organisation exists in this country. Positively, one cannot conceal it from one’s self, the country is, from a material point of view, entirely at the mercy of half a dozen agents. These agents offer, in most respects, every possible guarantee. They are men of great experience, because in nearly all cases they fill the office of estate managers from father to son. They are intelligent and upright; if they were not their business would soon suffer from it, for it is not unusual for a landowner to change his agent. But no one denies their possession of all these qualities. Every morning I read all the newspapers on both sides. I have not yet found a single accusation against the respectability of the agents. It is certain that no other nation owns a body of officials who can be compared to them. But they are not officials, they do not seek any part of the public power, and they are not elected for any. They have not, therefore, to render any account of their actions, either to the Government as though they were officials, nor to the electors as though they were their representatives; and yet, at a time when the system works regularly, the force of circumstances gives them over almost all the citizens power nearly as absolute as that of the pachas over the raias of the Turkish empire. They cannot impale an individual who offends them, but they can easily transport him. In fact, in this country, where agriculture is the only industry, a man can only live, on condition of having some land, the necessary tool for the exercise of this industry. Now an agent can take this tool from him, and, if he does, the man has no resource but to emigrate. One can therefore say that thousands of families are dependent upon one man to such an extent that he can transport them if he wishes to do so. It must unquestionably be very hard to feel one’s self so completely in a man’s power, however honourable he may be. This position of affairs results from an economic situation which laws cannot affect. It is not the less true that it is dangerous, for it is easily understood that in certain dispositions it produces a state of exasperation which may lead to any crimes.