SIR,– I visited the lands of Highfield this day and found the few inhabitants that yet remain, in a most pitiable condition. Denis McCarthy, tenant for the last forty years on these lands, was on Sunday last buried. Since his ejectment he exhibited in his person, signs of approaching death; fever set in accompanied by loss of his mental faculties and thus he struggled till death. His miserable wife yet lives with her family; in the last Examiner, Mr. Beamish seems willing to justify the course he has pursued relative to these people, but as this seems rather a confirmation of my statement I shall not allude to it at present here.
I am justified in asserting the wretched tenants of Mr. Beamish are objects of universal commisseration. And as proof I must tell you that one brother who permitted the other to take shelter after his ejectment in a card shed, was refused the trifle promised him for giving up possession. This is one of the persons whom Mr. Beamish does not recognise as one of his immediate tenants. Again, these people so treated were employed by Mr. Beamish to sow corn in the farms which until then they themselves occupied. –What was the result? Why not a shilling would they get till they emptied their cabins.
It would seem, by the tenor of Mr. Beamish’s letter, he knew not whether there were villages on his property. I beg leave to tell him there were, up to the late visit of the Rev. Somerset Townsend, who undertook through motives of personal friendship to lay them waste, and who very prudently remained silent on the subject. I shall give a short extract of a letter writtenby Mr. Lovel, the under agent, to Hosford, his Poundkeeper, on hearing of the Widow Gainey’s death: “the Widow Gainey is dead, a happy riddance, I wish fifty more of them were gone.” This is the sympathy of an agent for an old tenant. After this what are we to expect? Even the desolation that overshadows us this season only as it were, steels the hearts of our masters.
I remain your Correspondent,