My wife and I went to the huts of the poor, as I was anxious to see this phase of life. The status of a country is shown by the condition of its poor people and not by that of its few grasping rich. The glamour of India in its great cities and scenery in the cold season, seen by the racing globe-trotters, no more conveys an idea of the real condition of its vast millions, than a peasant’s holiday attire does of his everyday clothing and impoverished life. We heard the stories of poverty and oppression, and they were not Irish exaggeration for the one fact alone of the exorbitant rents they had to pay, was proof sufficient of the truth of their stories. Yet with all their poverty, ignorance and superstition, the Irish are said to be the most virtuous race on the earth. This to me will atone for all their other sins. We never entered a hut, however poor the inmates, but they offered us some token of their kindness, even if it were only a roast potato raked from the ashes. If there is anything that makes tears come into my heart, it is the generosity of the poorest poor, sharing their needed mouthfuls with others. How often have I thought with moistened eyes, of those famine stricken people in that old court of my childhood, sharing their scanty grains of rice with me and my little sister, and of that old faqir. What delighted me most was the courtesy and grace, the sparkling witticisms of these people when receiving us, so natural and free from any of the snobbery and formalities of society. We were entertained by the rich and they were polished and educated and I can speak in the highest praise of them, and yet I think I felt more grateful when eating a potato from the bare board-table in an Irish hut with the good dame pressing me to take just another one, than I did with my feet under the mahogany of some wealthy host, the table loaded with silver and served with the richest viands. This may be strange in me, yet I cannot help it, for God has made me up in that way. We visited Scotland, the “land o’ cakes,” as well as “the land of the leal,” and I was delighted with the brusque, frank manners of its people. They are an honest, manly race, careful to keep all they have and to get as much as they can, but honestly. One of them said: “We are sair strict in making a bargain, but when it is closed we abide it, aye to our ain loss.” They are all aristocrats by nature, of the manly kind, and the mechanic with grimy hands and greasy clothes at work, will look one in the eye, and talk as nobly as if he was the chief of some Highland clan, to doff his cap to no man.