A single case described in a paper recently published by Mr. Dickens in his "_Household Words_," will convey to the reader some idea of an eviction, that may be taken as a specimen, and perhaps a fair one, of the _fifty thousand_ evictions that took place in the single year 1849, and of the hundreds of thousands that have taken place in the last six years. "Black piles of peat stood on the solitary ground, ready after a summer's cutting and drying. Presently, patches of cultivation presented themselves; plots of ground raised on beds, each a few feet wide, with intervening trenches to carry off the boggy water, where potatoes had grown, and small fields where grew more ragwort than grass, enclosed by banks cast up and tipped here and there with a brier or a stone. It was the husbandry of misery and indigence. The ground had already been freshly manured by sea-weeds, but the village, where was it? Blotches of burnt-ground, scorched heaps of rubbish, and fragments of blackened walls, alone were visible. Garden plots were trodden down and their few bushes rent up, or hung with tatters of rags. The two horsemen, as they hurried by, with gloomy visages, uttered no more than the single word--EVICTION!" The scenes that had taken place at the destruction of that village, are thus described to the author of the sad work, by a poor servant:-- "Oh, bless your honour! If you had seen that poor frantic woman when the back of the cabin fell and buried her infant, where she thought she had laid it safe for a moment while she flew to part her husband and a soldier who had struck the other children with the flat of his sword and bade them troop off. Oh, but your honour it was a killing sight! * * * I could not help thinking of the poor people at Rathbeg when the soldiers and police cried, 'Down with them! down with them even to the ground!'--and then the poor little cabins came down all in fire and smoke, amid the howls and cries of the poor creatures. Oh, it was a fearful sight, your honour--it was indeed--to see the poor women hugging their babies, and the houses where they were born burning in the wind. It was dreadful to see the old bed-ridden man lie on the ground among the few bits of furniture, and groan to his gracious God above! Oh, your honour, you never saw such a sight, or--you--sure a--it would never have been done."