Changes in political institutions can at first do little towards serving them. It must be by altering their habits, by diffusing manufactories, by destroying _middle-men_, by dividing farms,[52] and by promoting industry by making the pay proportioned to the work. But I ought not to attempt to say any thing on the subject when my limits are so narrow; I hope soon to converse with you about it. I found much to interest me in geology in Ireland, and I have brought away a great deal of information, and many specimens. I shall now be in London till Christmas, with the exception of next week, which I am obliged to pass in Bedfordshire. I am, my dear Poole, Most affectionately your's, H. DAVY. [52] He means that the _middle-men_ being discontinued, their large allotments should be divided into farms of convenient extent, the occupiers of which should rent immediately from the owners of the soil. After the Giant's Causeway, the scenery which called forth Davy's greatest admiration in Ireland was that of Fair-Head. To an enthusiastic lover of the wild and sublime features of Nature, an object of greater interest could scarcely be presented than a vast promontory, the summit of which rises five hundred feet above the sea, and at whose base lies a waste of rude and gigantic columns, swept by the hand of Time from the mountain to which they formerly belonged. The following fragment, written by Davy at the time, has been placed in my hands by Mr. Greenough. "----But chiefly thee, Fair-Head! Unrivall'd in thy form and majesty! For on thy loftiest summit I have walk'd In the bright sunshine, while beneath thee roll'd The clouds in purest splendour, hiding now The Ocean and his islands--parting now As if reluctantly: whilst full in view The blue tide wildly roll'd, skirted with foam, And bounded by the green and smiling land, The dim pale mountains, and the purple sky. Majestic cliff! thou birth of unknown Time, Long had the billows beat thee, long the waves Rush'd o'er thy hollow'd rocks, ere life adorn'd Thy broken surface, ere the yellow moss Had tinted thee, or the mild dews of Heaven Clothed thee with verdure, or the eagles made Thy cave their aëry: so in after time Long shalt thou rest unalter'd mid the wreck Of all the mightiness of human works; For not the lightning nor the whirlwind's force, Nor all the waves of ocean, shall prevail Against thy giant strength--and thou shalt stand Till the Almighty voice which bade thee rise Shall bid thee fall."