Summary

Samuel Murray Hussey The Reminiscences of an Irish Land Agent

The landlords are forbid by law to live on Irish ground.
No more their rent-days they may keep, nor agents harsh distrain,
The widow need no longer weep, for over is their reign.
I met with mighty Gladstone, and he took me by the hand,
And he said, 'Hurrah for Ireland! 'tis now the happy land.
'Tis a most delightful country that I for you have made—You
may shoot the landlord through the head who asks that rent be paid.'
We care not for the agent, nor do we care for those
Who come upon us to distrain—we pay them back in blows.
Source: Gutenberg

Samuel Murray Hussey The Reminiscences of an Irish Land Agent

It is now necessary to revert to that terrible page of Irish history, the famine, which culminated in what is still known as 'the black forty-seven.'
I have often been asked, 'How is it that Ireland could formerly support a population of eight millions as compared with only five now?'
The answer is simple: Eight millions could still exist if the potato crop were a certainty, and if the people were now content to exist as they did then. But to the then existing population—living at best in a light-hearted and hopeful, hand-to-mouth contentment—there was a terrible awakening.
Source: Gutenberg

Samuel Murray Hussey The Reminiscences of an Irish Land Agent

If there is anything more remarkable than the hard-working powers of the Scottish farmer it is his capacity for hard drinking. But that only makes him offensive in his brief conviviality and morose in the long subsequent sulkiness. Whereas I defy you to be seriously angry with a drunken Irishman, if you have a due sense of humour—and without that you have lost the salt of life. To my mind there is something austere in the better characteristics of the Scot, and also something hypocritical about his morality. You always hear that professed in Scotland, and never in Ireland.
Source: Gutenberg

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