More than twenty years after W.G. wrote those letters, I had a conversation relative to the Famine with a gentleman who knew the Midland Counties and portions of the West well.  I asked him what was the effect of the Famine in his district.  “My district,” he answered, “was by no means regarded as a poor one, but the Famine swept away more than half its population.  The census of ’41 gave the families residing in it as 2,200; the census of ’51 gave them at 1,000.”  Did the landlords, I enquired, come forward liberally to save the lives of the people?  “Only one landlord,” he replied, “in the whole locality with which I am connected did anything to save the people, F——­ O’B——.  He asked no rent for two years, and he never afterwards insisted on the rent of those two years; although I must say he was paid it by many of his tenants, of their own free will; but, for the rest, he cancelled those two years’ rent and opened a new account with them, as with men owing him nothing.”  And what, I further asked, were the feelings of the landlords with regard to their tenants dying of starvation?  He answered with solemn emphasis—­“DELIGHTED TO BE RID OF THEM.”

The present leader of the Conservative party seems to entertain feelings akin to this; for, some years ago, addressing his constituents, and speaking of some results of the Irish Famine, he said significantly—­“there are worse things than a famine.”

“I shall never forget,” said Rev. Mr. F——­ to W.G., “the impression made on my mind a few days ago by a most heartrending case of starvation.  It was this:  The poor mother of five children, putting them to bed one night, almost lifeless from hunger, and despairing of ever again seeing them alive, took her last look at them, and bade them her last farewell.  She rose early in the morning, and her first act was to steal on tiptoe to where they lay.  She would not awake them, but she must know the truth—­are they alive or dead? and she softly touched the lips of each, to try and discover if there was any warmth in them, and she eagerly watched to see if the breath of life still came from their nostrils.  Her apprehensions were but too well founded, she had lost some of her dear ones during the night.”

The mournful poetry of this simple narrative must touch every heart.

Ass and horse flesh were anxiously sought for, even when the animals died of disease or starvation.  In the middle of January it was recorded that a horse belonging to a man near Claremorris, having died, was flayed, and the carcass left for dogs and birds to feed upon; but, says the narrative, before much of it was consumed, it was discovered by a poor family (whose name and residence are given), and by them used as food.  Father, mother and six children prolonged life for a week upon this disgusting carrion, and even regretted the loss of it, when the supply failed; and the poor mother said to the person who made the fact public, “the Lord only knows what I will