over the conscience of his tenant is unlimited.  It is true he cannot apply bodily torture, except, indeed, the torture of starvation, but he can apply mental torture.  It is in the power of an Irish landlord to eject his tenant if he does not vote according to his wishes.  A man who has no conscience, has no moral right to vote; a man who tyrannizes over the conscience of another, should have no legal right.  But there is yet a deeper depth.  I believe you will be lost in amazement at what is yet to come, and will say, as Mr. Young said of penal laws in the last century, that they were more “fitted for the meridian of Barbary.”  You have heard, no doubt, of wholesale evictions; they are of frequent occurrence in Ireland—­sometimes from political motives, because the poor man will not vote with his landlord; sometimes from religious motives, because the poor man will not worship God according to his landlord’s conscience; sometimes from selfish motives, because his landlord wishes to enlarge his domain, or to graze more cattle.  The motive does not matter much to the poor victim.  He is flung out upon the roadside; if he is very poor, he may die there, or he may go to the workhouse, but he must not be taken in, even for a time, by any other family on the estate.  The Irish Celt, with his warm heart and generous impulses, would, at all risks to himself, take in the poor outcasts, and share his poverty with them; but the landlord could not allow this.  The commission of one evil deed necessitates the commission of another.  An Irish gentleman, who has no personal interest in land, and is therefore able to look calmly on the question, has been at the pains to collect instances of this tyranny, in his Plea for the Celtic Race. I shall only mention one as a sample.  In the year 1851, on an estate which was at the time supposed to be one of the most fairly treated in Ireland, “the agent of the property had given public notice to the tenantry that expulsion from their farms would be the penalty inflicted on them, if they harboured any one not resident on the estate.  The penalty was enforced against a widow, for giving food and shelter to a destitute grandson of twelve years old.  The child’s mother at one time held a little dwelling, from which she was expelled; his father was dead.  He found a refuge with his grandmother, who was ejected from her farm for harbouring the poor boy.”  When such things can occur, we should not hear anything more about the Irish having only “sentimental grievances.”  The poor child was eventually driven from house to house.  He stole a shilling and a hen—­poor fellow!—­what else could he be expected to do?  He wandered about, looking in vain for shelter from those who dared not give it.  He was expelled with circumstances of peculiar cruelty from one cabin.  He was found next morning, cold, stiff, and dead, on the ground outside.  The poor people who had refused him shelter, were tried for their lives.  They were found guilty