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78 it does not seem to have given me the gift of the gab! We left Cork by a steamer for Bristol.

Before I conclude my letter on Ireland, I must add a few words about the beautiful green aspect of the country which has given it the name of "the Emerald Isle." As one is hurried on through the open county by the train, his eye is refreshed by the deep-green fields and plains which surround him on every side—by the clusters of deep-green trees and woods and thick vegetation such as one would seek for in vain in England. Potato is the main food of the lower classes of people who cannot afford to indulge in the luxury of having any kind of meat on their table, and the extensive and never-ending fields of potato which are to be seen anywhere and everywhere certainly strike the visitor. As for the villagers they are poor indeed. Man, wife, and children, a good round number in all, are often seen working in the same field in sun and rain, and are housed together in the night probably with their pigs and geese in the same wretched hut. This is not the only fertile country in which the cultivators are exceedingly poor!

At Bristol we stopped for seven hours and saw the grave of Raja Ram Mohun Roy in the beautiful cemetery of that town. A monument in the Indian style of Architecture is erected over the grave. We also saw the celebrated Redcliffee Church which possesses a literary interest as being connected with the life and acts of