Sympathy.—We do not think we can better express the sympathy which is now so universally felt in the United States, for the sufferings of the people of this country, than by stating that immediately after the news brought by the Cambria had been promulgated, 1,500 passages were paid for by residents in New York, into the house of George Sherlock and Company, for the transmission of their friends in Ireland to the land of plenty. Through the same house, by the last packet, there have arrived remittances to the amount of 1,300l., in sums varying from 2l. to 10l."—Dublin Evening Post.—Morning Chronicle, 5th of April, 1847.

As to the vices[2] of the Irish peasant, a few years since they might have been set down as three—whiskey drinking, cupidity, and combination. The first exists no longer, and if we seek for proof of good intention and desires in the people, this gives it forcibly. Having food of but one kind, and that possessing no stimulating power, nor capability of imparting grateful warmth, such as the "brose" of the Scotch, or the soup of the continental peasant; and the climate being cold and humid to excess, they naturally, it may be said, used the only stimulant they could obtain. And if we think how anxiously we seek such, under the influence of wet and cold, (we, who have all comforts and all varieties and luxuries of food)—can it be wondered that the Irish peasant, who working for the day in a winter's mist, his clothes saturated through, and none to change when he returned to his wretched cabin, should have been tempted to take this stimulating poison? But, by the gentle guidance of one good and great man, they have been led from the evil, receiving no substitute for what they relinquished; getting nothing in return, they gave up their only luxury at his bidding. What may not be done with such a people?

But the peasant has two vices which still continue—cupidity and desire for combination. Strange that amongst all the evils laid to his charge the first has been passed over. It exists to a great extent, and in place of being reckless as to money, he too eagerly grasps at it when the opportunity offers; hence the combinations which have at different times occurred in the accomplishment of public and also private works. He mars his object by his ignorance. This has arisen principally from the unfortunate frequency of public undertakings, caused by famines or distress. In any such case he took it, to use his own expression, as a "good luck," and sought by any means to make the most of it while it lasted. Then, in private works, when he imagined a necessity existed for their accomplishment, he sought to make the most by demanding higher wages, and forcing the well-inclined to join in the demand. It is a fact that he suffers under natural cupidity, and its evils have been increased by the circumstances named, the effects of which will require care to overcome, if his regeneration be attempted; and, perhaps, under all circumstances, it cannot be wondered at. The opportunity to obtain money for his labour so rarely occurred, that when it did he could not resist the temptation of getting as much as possible to provide against the day which he knew would soon come again, when he would be left to the potato alone; and on this point he will require to be led and taught as in other things. But the Irish peasant is, in fact, now in that position which it is fearful to contemplate. From the nature of his food alone he has been long retrograding in physical capability, and, of course, energy of mind. It is impossible that beings living entirely upon one description of food, no matter what it be, can exist in strength and healthfulness. But if the food be of that nature which, used as the potato is, tends to produce evil from the quantity necessary to be consumed, in order to give to the body bare nourishment to uphold existence, it must be evident that the very quantity alone will produce listlessness and want of energy, while the system itself receives scarcely enough to uphold its vital powers.

My own memory (and I am not so old as to count half centuries) shows an evident change in the general physical appearance and capacity of the peasant labourer. He is not the same, even within twenty years; and to those who recollect fifty, the alteration must be painfully great.

A little thought will shew it could not be otherwise. The potato, eaten in the way it is, simply boiled, and as I have again and again pointed out, without aught else with it but salt! and not even that sometimes, contains but little more than two pounds weight of that description of nutriment (gluten, or animal matter) which is essential to uphold strength, in fact to re-create bone and muscle in the system, for every hundred pounds weight, the unfortunate being condemned to live upon it solely, is obliged to gorge himself with, in order to sustain his animal powers.

The average quantity of potatoes an adult peasant labourer consumes in the day is about ten pounds—his meal being usually a quarter of a stone each at breakfast, dinner, and supper; thus he receives into his system every twenty-four hours, about 3 ounces of that which is essential to give him power to perform his functions of labour. In other words, he eats in that time but 3 ounces of the representative of meat. What would the railroad "Navvy" of England say—what the farm labourer—if either was doled out 3 ounces of beef or mutton per day to work upon? and if he seemed listless and unenergetic, was then taunted with the name of "indolent, reckless, good-for-naught." Still, my unhappy countrymen have received this quantum of food, with submission for ages; and with it received those degrading appellations, as a fitting reward for their "endurance."

Now, medical research has fully established that the quantum of animal matter, be it obtained from vegetable or else, actually necessary to be taken into the system merely to reproduce the bone and muscle worn away by the general labourer in his day's work, is 5 ounces! It cannot therefore be doubted, that the Irish labourer, in Ireland, is and has been deteriorated in physical capability, and consequently, mental energy, by want of proper nutrition.

Such has been his position for ages; and my firm belief is, that his sufferings would not have been so long borne, but for the hope which has been, from time to time, kept alive in him. Alas, how delusively! In "Emancipation"—he was taught to see deliverance from his miseries—mayhap, remission of his rent. In "Repeal"—"plenty of work and plenty of money; and the cattle kept at home, and the pigs to be eaten by himself, in place of by the Saxon."

Unhappy designation, and unhappy delusion, which have held the countries asunder, in place of being one and the same in all things. But he has lived upon that hope, until now, when it has vanished from him for ever. And with his hope, the food that kept life barely in him has gone too. He is bereft of all that holds existence and soul together, and sees nought before him, even if he do live, but ceaseless struggle and ceaseless misery. Can such a being aid himself? No more can he, than the invalid, weakened and powerless from sickness. Aid must be given him by those who have strength and knowledge, or he will sink, if not into death, to that which will be worse,—hopeless, helpless degradation.

And will Ireland then be "the right arm of England?" No; she will be the