act, we say, which inflicts upon a human being, or a human family, this scathing and multitudinous curse—­no crime?  In the sight of God and in the sight of man is it no crime?  Yes!  In the sight of God and man it is a deep, an awful, and a most heartless crime!  To return, however, to our rent day.  The whole morning was unseasonably cold and stormy, and as there was but little shelter about the place, we need scarcely say, that the poor creatures who were congregated before the door were compelled to bear the full force of its inclemency.

Indeed, it may be observed with truth, that when people are met together under circumstances of a painful nature, they cannot relax or melt into that social ease which generally marks those who come together with no such restraint upon the heart or spirits.  Here, too, as in every other department of life, all the various grades of poverty and dependence fall into their respective classes.  In one place, for instance, might be seen together those more comfortable farmers who were able to meet their engagements, but who labored under the galling conviction, that, however hard and severely industry might put forth its exertions, there was no ultimate expectation of independence—­no cheering reflection, that they resided under a landlord who would feel gratified and proud at their progressive prosperity.  Alas! it is wonderful how much happiness a bad landlord destroys!  These men stood with their backs to the wind and storm, lowly conversing upon the disastrous change which was coming, and had come, over the estate.  Their brows were lowered, their dialogue languid and gloomy, and altogether their whole appearance was that of men who felt that they lived neither for themselves or their families, but for those who took no interest whatsoever in their happiness or welfare.

In another place were grouped together men who were still worse off than the former—­men, we mean, who were able to meet their engagements, but at the expense of all, or mostly all, that constitutes domestic comfort—­who had bad beds, bad food, and indifferent clothes.  These persons were far more humbled in their bearing than the former, took a less prominent situation in the crowd, and seemed to have deeper care, and much more personal feeling to repress or combat.  It is an indisputable fact, that the very severe and vexatious tyranny exercised over them had absolutely driven the poor creatures into hypocrisy and falsehood—­a general and almost uniform consequence of conduct so peculiarly oppressive.  They were all, at best, God knows, but very poorly clothed; yet, if it so happened that one or two of them, somewhat more comfortable than the rest, happened to have got a new coat a little before gale day, he invariably declined to appear in it, knowing, as he did, that he should receive a torrent of abuse from the agent, in consequence of “getting fat, impudent, and well-dressed on his Lordship’s property;” terms of abuse, which, together with the cause that produced them, are at this moment well known to thousands as expressions whose general occurrence on such, occasions has almost fixed them into proverb.  Will our English neighbors believe this?  That we know not, but we can assure them that they may.