country, he is compelled to fall into line with a scheme of existence which is far in advance of anything which has been considered possible in his own country. The great stumbling-blocks of his life, namely, the potato patch and the pig, pass forthwith out of his purview. In England he must live like a civilized being, in a house erected and maintained on lines which conform to the requirements of County Councils and sanitary authorities; very naturally, too, he drops into the English view as to diet, clothing, recreations, and the like, and to secure these things he is compelled to work, maybe twelve, or it may be fourteen hours a day. If the work be hard, it is more or less regular, and the pay is sure, and, from the Irish standpoint, princely. In America, with anything like luck, the Irish emigrant finds himself even more favorably conditioned, and if he possesses an ounce of sense—and he usually does—there are chances for him which lead to prosperity. At home, in Ireland, the Irishman of the poorer class, and even of the middle class, is absolutely without opportunity. He must take things as they are, and if he ever thinks about such matters at all, resign himself to the mean, and uninspiring facts. There is nothing in Ireland that a man who wishes to get along in life may do; the fact being that the country is exhausted, and devoid of the elements which are necessary to activity. And it seems more than likely that this state of affairs will continue for many years to come. Capital that is not backed up by arrant greed has become extremely rare of late. There is little hope for Ireland in the modern sense, unless she be exploited, and for some reason or other, exploitation is nowadays attempted only by persons without bowels, who, with all their exploiting, succeed only in enriching themselves, and degrading the persons who toil for them. I have said before that Ireland’s true regeneration must come from within. When she took to emigration she began practically this work. For years it has been the only way for her; it will go on just as long as it is necessary and good for her. Meanwhile the people at home must be roused from their apathy. If the gentlemen who periodically stump the country with a miscellaneous selection of political and religious shibboleths would direct some of their energy and oratory to the social and intimate life of the Irish people, they might yet accomplish for Ireland a work that would be of real benefit to her. There is far too much complacency, even in the ranks of Ireland’s best wishers. It is taken for granted that the main body of the people of Ireland are peasants; everybody speaks of them as peasants, and everybody talks of them as peasants. When Goldsmith wrote about “a bold peasantry, their country’s pride,” he did not mean peasantry in the same way that the glib writers and talkers of our own day mean it. The word “peasant,” like many another good word, has had its ups and downs,