There is a talk of giving fixity of tenure in Ireland; can they find it in England, or for the matter of that, in all the world? No, we are all tenants, liable to be ejected without an hour's notice. How death must laugh at our leases and our bonds! Cobwebs are not more frail. A bubble has as sure a tenure as a man.
'What boots your houses and your lands?
In spite of close-drawn deed and fence,
Like water, 'twixt your cheated hands,
They slip into the graveyard's sands,
And mock your ownership's pretence.'