self under his vine and fig-tree for the rest of his life. His negligent husbandry easily obtains from the virgin soil wherewithal to support his family in rude abundance, and even to barter for the whisky and tobacco requisite to his enjoyment. But beyond this he has no care, and appreciates none of the refinements or necessities of civilisation. He has too much leisure to be thrifty, the industry of man being in an inverse ratio to the bounty wherewith nature satisfies his wants. Thus the cabin becomes dilapidated, the fences are neglected, the pigs browse luxuriously on the cabbages; while Pat smokes his pipe before the door, and gazes curiously on the wayfarers, indifferent to the shrill objurgations of his slatternly spouse, or the future of his bare-footed imps, who are already the pests of the neighbourhood.
The travellers on the Mississippi may frequently observe upon its margin, under the immediate shadow of the Cottonwood and cypresses, mournfully awaiting the havoc of the axe and ravage of the annual flood, a fragile tenement formed of a few loose pine boards inclined against a withered tree. The tenant of that modest home has cut the piles of firewood that the steamer stays her earnest speed and for awhile intermits her thick breath to receive. Like the drift wood left by the receding stream, to wither in the sun or rot in the sickly shade, and change into new forms of vegetable life, so has some luckless Celt been cast upon that shore to supply the necessities of commerce at the cost of life. His attenuated form and uncertain gait indicate both the pestilential influences whereto he is exposed, and the fatal solace whereto he has recourse in his wretched solitude. The day is not distant when he will fail in appearing to welcome the advancing vessel, or claim the wonted fiery draught; but the carrion birds, sullenly rising from their repast in the swampy thicket, on the approach of the curious, will reveal the cause of his absence.
The reader will be interested as to the fortunes of the female passengers by the Albatross.
Should no friends welcome them on arrival, they seek domestic service, through the agency of the numerous intelligence offices. American women generally despise, and reluctantly undertake, servile duties, leaving them to be monopolised in the north by Irish, more to their own satisfaction than to that of their mistresses, who are eloquent in abuse; but, remembering that elsewhere also servants are proverbially “the greatest plague of life,” we hesitate in confirming their complaints.
Factory employment the immigrants rarely resort to, from dislike to the attendant restraints. Many acquire houses of their own ere their youth has faded, and give sons to the Republic. The Americans attribute to them a somewhat lax morality, and it cannot be concealed that the demoralising influences of the passage render many notoriously unchaste.
The inquiring reader demands whether the Celtic peasantry have benefited by change of clime?
In some respects, yes. They have added to their material comforts, and are never exposed to actual want. But, they have not availed themselves of the social advantages open to them. They remain intolerant, illiterate, and factious. They never associate or assimilate with the children of the soil. They bring into Arcadia all the antipathies of their former life and acquire others. As formerly they hated the Saxons, they now hate the “na-tives,” and the aversion is mutual.
The Americans assert, that “any indirect benefit derived from the access of these ‘hewers of wood and drawers of water,’ is counterbalanced by admission of the elements of discord into the Republic—of intolerance into religion—of rancour into foreign relations—of venality and riot into elections—of vice and pauperism into the large cities of the Union.”
The late political associations, the Native American and Knownothing parties, were designed to counteract these evils, attributed to the Irish element of the population, by rigidly excluding either Irish or Catholics from participation in political power, but the only result has been to exasperate previous animosities.
Whatever be the truth or the falsity of the American charges, it should be remembered that prosperity has always its compensating evils, and that while enjoying the one, the Americans cannot entirely free themselves of the others. If the development of the resources of the Republic is in a great measure due to immigration, they must manfully accept its inseparable accompaniments.
The interfusion of this Irish element imbued with a frantic hatred of England, requires, however, serious considerations here, for it exercises a most malevolent influence on our relations with America. The Celto-American press panders to this prevalent feeling in its constituents by preaching a crusade against England, in and out of season. Now this is of very serious import to us even now, and there is no saying to what giant stature and capabilities of evil this national hate may grow, thus industriously fomented by demagogues for their private benefit. However averse to this policy the American may be, disposed to regard with a kindly eye the land of his fathers, dear to him from community of interests and feeling, yet, this constant vituperation insensibly influences him, profits by any accidental occurrence to irritate him, and cunningly appeals at all moments to the elements of his worser nature. Should these agencies not suffice, yet, the Irish element, receiving constant accessions to its numerical strength, may eventually attain the desired end by outvoting him!
Quod Dii Avertite!
TENBY.
“Where shall we go this summer?” is the question most commonly put by her Majesty’s lieges at this time of the year—by the gay, but pale-faced London family, satiated with the round of perpetual parties—the hard working clergyman who feels unusually “Monday-ish,” and considers that his throat requires a course of sea air—the merchant and clerk, pining for a cessation from the monotonous circle of account-books and ledger—
