Government.

He was charged to offer to take every distressed man in Ireland, with
his priest--if he would go--piper, cat, wife, sister, mother, and
children, to the land through which the great railway ran. Each man was
to be given a log-house with three rooms, one hundred and sixty acres,
ten of them under cultivation, and no residence was to be more than ten
miles from a railway station. All that was asked in return was a loan
for ten years without interest to cover the expenses of transportation.


I rather think Mr. Chichester Fortescue was the Chief Secretary. Anyhow,
whoever occupied that post urged the Cabinet to accept the offer. The
conclave wavered, but Mr. Gladstone firmly vetoed the idea. He was
afraid the plan would be unpopular with the priests, who would see
themselves bereft of the favourite members of their congregations.

Instead of this admirable scheme, we have ever since had the pitiable
sight of the parents, the sisters, and the sweetheart crooning over the
emigration of the best able-bodied young men from Ireland.

No one who has heard the keening and wailing, say at Limerick Junction,
over Paddy going over the water will forget the appealing sorrow of the
scene, the sound of which rings long in one's ears after the train has
gone out of sight.

The emigrant has been the theme of song and story. He has also been one
of the finest recruits of the United States, whilst he is a stigma on
English politics, and a drain on the land which in all Europe can least
afford to spare him.