13,932 Irish acres at a rental of £1382.

After we passed the castle we began to hear the blowing of rude horns
from time to time on the distant hills. These were signals to the people
of our approach, and gave quite the air of an invasion to our
expedition. We passed the burned cottages of last year just before
reaching Mr. Griffin's house at West Lettur. They were certainly not
large cottages, and I saw but three of them. We found the Sheriff at
West Lettur. The police and the soldiers drew a cordon around the place,
within which no admittance was to be had except on business; and the
myrmidons of the law going into the house with the agent held a final
conference with the tenant, of which nothing came but a renewal of his
previous offer. Then the work of eviction began. There was no attempt at
a resistance, and but for the martial aspect of the forces, and an
occasional blast of a horn from the hills, or the curious noises made
from time to time by a small concourse of people, chiefly women,
assembled on the slope of an adjoining tenancy, the proceedings were as
dull as a parish meeting. What most struck me about the affair was the
patience and good-nature of the officers. In the two hours and a half
which we spent at West Lettur a New York Sheriff's deputies would have
put fifty tenants with all their bags and baggage out of as many houses
into the street. In fact it is very likely that at least that number of
New York tenants were actually so ousted from their houses during this
very time.

The evicted Mr. Griffin was a stout, stalwart man of middle age,
comfortably dressed, with the air rather of a citizen than of a farmer,
who took the whole thing most coolly, as did also his women-kind. All of
them were well dressed, and they superintended the removal and piling up
of their household goods as composedly as if they were simply moving out