me; but afterward, in my distress, when I applied to her to get me a loom, which she could have had from _the Linen Board_ by only asking for it, her answer to me was, ‘I don’t know that I shall ever want a vote again in the county.’ “Now, sir,” continued he, “when justice is done to me (and no sooner), I shall be glad to assist my landlord or his friend. I know who _you_ are, sir, very well: you bear a good character: success to you! but I have no vote to give to you or any man.” “If I were to attempt to make you any amends for what you have suffered,” replied the candidate, “I should do you an injury; it would be said that I had bribed you; but I will repeat your story where it will meet with attention. I cannot, however, tell it so well as you have told it.” “No, sir,” was his answer, “for you cannot feel it as I do.” This is almost in terms the conclusion of Pope’s epistle from Eloisa to Abelard:-- “He best can paint them who shall feel them most.” In objurgation and pathetic remonstrancing eloquence, the females of the lower class in Ireland are not inferior to the men. A thin tall woman wrapped in a long cloak, the hood of which was drawn over her head, and shaded her pale face, came to a gentleman to complain of the cruelty of her landlord. “He is the most hard-hearted man alive, so he is, sir,” said she; “he has just seized all I have, which, God knows, is little enough! and has driven my cow to pound, the only cow I have, and only dependence I have for a drop of milk to drink; and the cow itself too standing there starving in the pound, for not a wisp of hay would he give to cow or Christian to save their lives, if it was ever so! And the rent for which he is driving me, please your honour, has not been due but one week: a hard master he is; but these _middle_ men are all so, one and all. Oh! if it had been but my lot to be a tenant to a _gentleman born_, like your honour, who is the poor man’s friend, and the orphan’s, and the widow’s--the friend of them that have none other. Long life to you! and long may you live to reign over us! Would you but speak three words to my landlord, to let my cow out of pound, and give me a fortnight’s time, that I might see and fatten her to sell against the fair, I could pay him then all honestly, and not be racked entirely, and he would be ashamed to refuse your honour, and afraid to disoblige the like of you, or get your ill-will. May the blessing of Heaven be upon you, if you’ll just send and speak to him three words for the poor woman and widow, that has none other to speak for her in the wide world!”