After lunch Mr. Thompson again harnessed his dog-cart in order to show me the neighbourhood. It appears that we are in the most fertile part of Ireland. And in fact the land is very superior to any other that I have seen at present. However, even here, agriculture has been unremunerative for a long time. And therefore all the landowners are endeavouring to restrict it as much as possible in order to increase the cattle breeding, which is the only thing now likely to produce good results. But to do this it is necessary to reduce the number of farms, and this exasperates the population; here, in fact, as elsewhere, fathers are quite determined to divide their farms amongst their children, and this be it understood without the landlord’s authority. They can, therefore, scarcely produce enough food for themselves from the land. All great undertakings succeed. Horse-breeding produces extremely good results. The best horses in Ireland come from here. Every moment as we drive along the highway we see fine brood mares, which, on hearing the carriage, rush at full speed from the other end of the pastures to see us pass. We went into two or three farms to look at the colts; they were playing with the children in the yards. Mr. Thompson described a little scene to me that he had lately witnessed. He had been to see a filly that had been recommended to him, and that he wished to buy for his sister. “Ah! it is a pretty creature, your honour,” said the farmer, leading his visitor up to the animal which was lying at the foot of a tree; “and besides, it is just the horse for a lady to hunt.” “We shall see,” replied Mr. Thompson, continuing to advance; “is she good tempered?” “Ah, your honour, is she good tempered! She is as quiet as a lamb! My daughter Kathleen will tell you so, they play together all day!” Kathleen, a fine handsome girl of sixteen or seventeen, who listened to the conversation with great interest, made an affirmative gesture when thus appealed to as a witness. “Really,” said Mr. Thompson, laughingly turning towards her; “do you ride her?” “You shall see.” And the young girl sprang upon the mare’s back as she rose to her feet. The frightened filly started off at a gallop. The girl standing, her hair flying in the wind, her arms stretched out to aid her balance, her body leaning forward, her little bare feet clinging to the filly’s back, allowed herself to be carried round like a circus rider. She remained there during three or four rounds, and then feeling herself about to fall, she sprang lightly to the ground and returned laughing to her father quite proud of her freak. What a pretty subject for a picture!