Calves and Statesmen 105 



politics. It seems to infer good stuff still surviving 

 in the Irish nature, and ready to assert itself 

 whenever relieved from the organised insanities of 

 self enslavement. 



In industry, in politics and in morals alike, 

 the Irish character is always a reflex of forces 

 external to its true economy, and that is one 

 reason why the Irishman is so much a better 

 man anywhere out of Ireland. Abroad, the good 

 in him is free to grow; at home he cannot be trusted 

 for any sense of duty. It is striking to note 

 how, after returning to Ireland, he steadily 

 descends from the level at which he has lived and 

 worked in other countries. These facts apply to 

 Irish interests in general, but more to industry, and 

 most to agriculture, which, more than any other 

 occupation, helps to turn the minds of a thousand 

 men into the instruments of one. 



The agricultural incapacity around me advances 

 my gain on calves in another way. At the fairs 

 the calves left unsold are usually the best, and 

 because they are unsold, their prices drop as the 

 day advances. Early in the morning, you see the 

 buyers rushing nervously and outbidding one 

 another for the calf with the longest legs, which 

 has usually the shallowest body and the weakest 

 constitution, while the better calves, with the 

 short legs and the deep bodies, are left waiting for 

 me, at prices far below those of the inferior ones. 

 I never buy now before mid-day, when they come 

 begging me to take the best at less than the prices 

 of the worst. The underlying fallacy, so expensive 

 to my neighbours and so profitable to me, is in 



