and instructed their tenants in the best methods of applying them; but during the time of which we write, an Irish landlord only saw his tenants when canvassing them for their votes, and instructed them in dishonesty and perjury, not reflecting that he was then teaching them to practise the arts of dissimulation and fraud against himself.  This was the late system:  let us hope that it will be superseded by a better one; and that the landlord will think it a duty, but neither a trouble nor a condescension, to look into his own affairs, and keep an eye upon the morals and habits of his tenantry.

The Colonel, as he had said, remained more than a fortnight upon his estate; and, as he often declared since, the recollections arising from the good which he performed during that brief period, rendered it the portion of his past life upon which he could look with most satisfaction.  He did not leave the country till he saw M’Evoy and his family restored to their farm, and once more independent;—­until he had redressed every well-founded complaint, secured the affections of those who had before detested him, and diffused peace and comfort among every family upon his estate.  From thenceforth he watched the interests of his tenants, and soon found that in promoting their welfare, and instructing them in their duties, he was more his own benefactor than theirs.  Before many years had elapsed, his property was wonderfully improved; he himself was called the “Lucky Landlord,” “bekase,” said the people, “ever since he spoke to, an’ advised his tenants, we find that it’s lucky to live undher him.  The people has heart to work wid a gintleman that won’t grind thim; an’ so sign’s on it, every one thrives upon his land:  an’ dang my bones, but I believe a rotten stick ’ud grow on it, set in case it was thried.”

In sooth, his popularity became proverbial; but it is probable, that not even his justice and humanity contributed so much to this, as the vigor with which he prosecuted his suit against “Yellow Sam,” whom he compelled literally to “disgorge” the fruits of his heartless extortion.  This worthy agent died soon after his disgrace, without any legitimate issue; and his property, which amounted to about fifty thousand pounds, is now inherited by a gentleman of the strictest honor and integrity.  To this day his memory is detested by the people, who, with that bitterness by which they stigmatized a villain, have erected him into a standard of dishonesty.  If a man become remarkable for want of principle, they usually say—­“he’s as great a rogue as Yallow Sam;” or, “he is the greatest sconce that ever was in the country, barrin’ Yallow Sam.”