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' furniture. , "FIRST [AND SECOND LOVE. “ Beloved and most beautiful 2 I gaze upon thy face- Upon thy slender form. replete With every winniug grace : And oh ! 1 tremble when I think How dear to me thou art ’I -Wert thou to die, how desolate Would be my vacant heart ! " I pass each evening in my walk The little churchyard lone. And Isee the moonlight shining On one white gleaming stonc ; The lilies growing round that grave Look fair in the moon’s ray-â€" But she who sleeps beneath that stone Was fairer far than they. “ She was a lovely, gentle girl, With eyes of Heaven's own blue, And-cheeks whose soft tint put to shame The earliest rosebud’s hue. I lovod her, wooed her; but she was A treasure lentâ€"not given 3 And ere we wed, her gentle soul Flea to its native Heaven 2 "And sometimes in the lonely hours, “ When far away thou art. 'I look into that sepulchre Of buried joyâ€"my heart ; And memory brings back the face Of her, my seraph bride-â€" And that sad mOIhIllg in the spring, That May morn. when she died ! " But oh l I loved her not as I Love thee, beloved one ! She was my life’s sweet morning starâ€"- Thou art its glorious sun ! Though long I wept when she fled back To her fair home on high, VVert thou to perish so. beloved, I would not weep-«but die. 0 C E O L A: a ROMANCEâ€"BY CAPT. M. REID. ( Continued.) QUiCir EXECUTIONERS. At this moment, the smoke drifting aside, discovered a group still further from the edge of the _,p0hd. There were six men in this group, standing in threes; and l perceived that the middle man of each three was tightly grasped by the others. Two of them, then, were prisoners! ' Were they Indians? two of our enemies who, amid the confu- sion ofthe fire, had stayed into the glade, and been captured? It was my first thought; but at that instant a jet of flame, shooting upward among the tree- tops, filled the glade with a flood of brilliant light. The group thus il- lumined, could be seen as distinctly as by the light of day. I was no longer in doubt about the captives ; their faces were before meâ€"â€"-wliitc and ghastly, as if with fear. Even the red light failed to tinge them with its colour; but, wan as they were, I had no difficulty in recog- nising them. They were Spence and VVilltams. I turned to the black for an explanation, but before he could i‘makc reply to my interrogatory, l more than half comprehended the situation. My own plight admonished me. I,rcmeiiibered my wound; I re~ membered that I had received it “from behind. I remembered that the bullet that struck the tree came -‘ll'roru the same quarter. I thought {we had been indebted to the sav- ages for the shots ; but, no ; worse ~_savagesmâ€"Sperice and Williamsâ€"- "were the men who had fired them! "'The reflection was awful; the motive, mysterious. And now returned to my thoughts the- occurrences of the preceding "night: the conduct of these two fellows in the forest; the suspici- ous, hints thrown out by old Hick- man and his comrade; and far beyond the preceding night, other circumstancesâ€"still well marked upon my memoryâ€"rose freshly be- fore me. ’ Here again was the hand of ’Aren‘s Ringgold. O God! to think .‘that this arch-monster ‘ ‘Dar only a tryin? them tWO _d’aam'raskell,’ said Jake, in reply to the interrogatory I had put; »-,_‘dat’s Wliatthey am ’bout, Massr Georgeâ€"dat’s all,’ , ‘Who ?' I asked mechanically, for I'already knew who were meant by the ‘ two daam- raskell.’ ‘Lor, Massr George, doant you see um ober yonder? Golly ! thar 'as white as peeled punkinsâ€"' Spence an’ William. It war them that shot you, an’ no Ind-i-ens arter all; I know’d dat from the fust, an’ I tol’ Mass Hickman de same ;’ but ' Mass Hickman ’clare he see um for hi’ss‘ef, an’ so too Mass Weatbaford. ‘Boaf seed. um fire the. two shotsrâ€"e ,Thar a tryin’ on ’em for tha livesâ€"â€" id‘at’s what the am adoin’.’ 'With strange interest I once ' more turned my eyes outward. and gazed, first at one group, then at the ether. 1 The fire was now making less ,noise, thesap-wood having nearly ‘ burnt :out ; and the detontations, caused by the escaping of the pent air from its cellular cavaties, had. :grown less frequent. Voices could be heard ever the glade, and to those SCARBORO’, YORK, MARKHAM, VAUGHAN, KING, ALEX. SCOTT, Proprietor. VOIt Io “ Let Sound Reason weigh more with us than. Popular Opinion.” of the Impl‘OVlsed jury I listened at-Jsame time bringing his piece to thel had carried meâ€"lifeless as he tentively. I perceived that a dis- pute was going on. Thejurors Were not agreed upon their verdict : some advocating the immediate death oftl'ie prisoners ; while others, ,averse to such prompt punishment, ’ Credit their guilt; were for keeping them until further inquiry should be made into tlieirithey’ll be in a hotter conducL There were some who could not: the deed was’ too monstrous and improbable ;l under what motive could they have committed it? at such a time, too, with their own lives in direct jeop- ardy? ‘Ne’er a bit 0’ jeppurdy,’ eX-' claimed Hickman, in reply to the interrogatory-â€"‘ ne'er a bit 0’ jep- purdy.‘ Thar hain’t been a shot fired at eyther on ’em this hul day. I’ll tell ye, fellers, thar’s a unner- stanhin’ atween ’em an’ the Indy-I ens. Thar no bettei"n spies, an’ thar last night’s work proves it.â€"â€" ’Twar all bamfoozle about than gittih’ lost ; ’em fellers git lost adced! Both on ’cin knows these hyar wuds as well as the anymals that lives in ’em. Thuv both been hyar many’s the time, an’ a wheeu too often, I reck’n. Lost! Waghl did yez iver beer 0’ a ’coon gittin’ lost?’ Some one made reply. I did not hear what was said, but the voice of the hunter again sounded distinct and clear, ' ‘Ye palaver about thar motive. l s’pose you mean thar rcezuns for sich a bloody biznessl Them, 1 acknullcdge, ain’t clar, but I hev my sespicious too. I ain’t a gwinc to say who or what, Thar’s some things as moot be, an’ tliai"s some as moutn’t; but I’ve seed queer doin’s in these last five yeerns ; au’ I’ve heerh 0’ others, an’ if what I've heern bcs trueâ€"what I’ve seed I know to beâ€"thenI tell ye, fellcrs, that’s a bigger than eytlier 0’ theSeh at the bottom 0’ the hul biznessâ€" that’s what thar be.’ ‘But do you really say you saw them the in that direction? Are you sure of that?’ This inquiry was putby a tall man, who stood in the midst of the diSputing party-â€"a man of advanced age, and of. somewhat se- vere, though venerable aspect. I knew him as one of our neighbours in the settlementâ€"an extensive planterâ€"who had some iiitcrcourst: with my uncle, and out of friendship for our family, had joined ‘the pursuit. ‘Surc l’ echoed the old hunter. with emphasis, and not without’ some Show of indignation. ‘ Didn’t me an’ Jim Weatherford see ‘em wi' our onvn two eyes? an’ thar good enough, I reck’n, to watch sich varmints as ’em. We’d been a watcl'iiii’ ’em all day, for we kuow’d thar war SOlllelllllli‘ ugly afoot. Wc seed ’em both firc acrost the glecd, ah’ sight plum- centre at young Randolph. Be- side, the black himself sez that the two shots coined that away. What more proof kin you want 'l' At this moment. I heard a voice by my side. It was that of Jake calling out to the crowd. .‘Mass Hickman.’ cried be, ‘if dey want more proof, I b’licve dis higga can gib it. One ob dc, bullets miss young massr. an’ stuck in that tree. Yonner’s tlia berry tree itself we wa behind; it ain’t burnt yet ; it ain’t been afire. Maybe, genl’m’u, you mout find tlia bullet Ihitl‘ still; you tell .whose gunl he ’longs to?’ The suggestion was instantly adopted, Several men ran to- wards the tree behind which Jake and I, had held post, and which, with a few others near it, for some reason or other, had escaped the flames, and still stood with trunks black and unscathed, in front of the conflagratiou. .I'ake went with the rest. and pointed out the spot. The bark was, scrutinised, the shot-hole found, and the leaden witness carefully picked out. It was still in its globe shape, slightly torn by the grooves of the barrel.â€"â€"-â€" It was a rifle-bullet, and one of the very largest size. It was known that Spence carried a piece of large calibre. Theguhs of all the party were brought forward, and their measure taken. the bullet would enter the barrel of no other rifle save that of Spence. Their guilt was evident; the verdict was no longer delayed. 'It wasunanimous that the prisoner should die. , "A-n, let ’em die like dogs, as- they are,’ cried Hickman, indig- nantly raising his voice, and at the I RICHN‘EOND HILL, FRIDAY, level. look to yer sights! tilial', fellows, and take yerselvesl Iout o’ the way. We‘ll gie ’em a ‘chance for thar cussed lives. They Emay take to youner trees if they flike, ah’ git ’customed to it, for place than that afore long. Let ’em goâ€"u-let ’em go,l say ;_, or, by the tarnal, I’ll fire into the middle 0’ ye l’ The men who had hold of the prisoners perceiving the threatâ€" ening attitude of the hunter, and fearing that he might make good his words, suddenly dropped their charge, and ran back towards the group ofjurors. The two wretches appeared bewildered. Terror seemed to hold them speechless and fast, as if bound to the spot. Neither made an effort to leave the ground. Perhaps the complete impossibility of such a thing was apparent to them, and prostrated all power to make the attempt. They could not have escaped from the glade. Their talking to the trees was only a mockery of the indignant hunter; in ten seconds they would have been i'Oasted among the blazing branches. It was a moment of breathless suspense. Only one voice was heardâ€"that of Hickman. - ‘Now, Jim, you Spence; leave tether to me.’ This was said in a hurried un- dertone; and the words were scarce uttered as the two rifles cracked simultaneously. The smoke drifting aside, dis- closed the deadly effcct of the shot. The executiouwwas over. The worthless renegades had ceased to live. AN ENEMY UNLOCKED FOR. As upon the stage of a theatre, the farce follows the grand melo- drame, this tragic scene was suc- ceeded by an incident supremely ludicrous. It elicited roars of laugh- ter from the men, that, under the circumstances, sounded like the laughter of madmen. Maniacs, in- deed, might these men have beeul AND WHITCHURCH ADVERTISER. NV V‘,/\/x/\,W TERMS: $1 50 In Advance. N0. 49. NOVEMBER 4., test). the rest. rifles, and ran forward to the edge I It was afterwards....when the of the pond, when a volley from a smoke had partially cleared away dozen guns terminated the monster’s that the spies were ptit upon their eXlstence. ' trial. Hickman and Weathci'ford, deeply indignant at the conduct of were already con vulsed He was not permitted to exalt ‘ Now, Jim VVeatherford,(supposedâ€"to the water, and placed thg in his triumph- Th? “0161?. Let ’em golme in ap‘ecumbent position among With several Olhel‘S, seized the” CITY SYMPATHIES. The hard selfishness of large cities has long since grown into a proverb. It is difficult to conceive of a more disheartening fate than to be left in one of these tumultuous Those who had been ‘ ashore ’ arenas without resources, and with- these monsters. would not hear of~laught3r at the scared fugitives; great Battle of'Interestsâ€"thc eager- delav, butinsisted upon immediate but the latter. having recdvered eyed, strong-minded wrestlers for punishment; so the wretches were from .their momentary affrighl. seized upon, and dragged out oflnow joined in the laugh till the the pond, to undergo the formality W00th rang With a Chorus Of Wild of an eXaminafion. 11 “rag at this (iflChIllaIlOIiS. COUICI IIIC IlIdIflIlS crisis that my senses returned to me. have heard as at that' moment, As soon as the dread sentence‘ hey must have fancied us mad-â€" had been carried into execution.l01‘m0re likely dead, and that our the ci-dcvant jurors came rushing Voices were those of their own back into the pond, and plunged frle‘nds. headed by Vv'ykome him- their bodies under the water, The self, rejoicing OVGI‘ the infernal heat was still intense and painful to I hOIOCaust. be endured. The forest continued to burn There were two only who ap- throughout the night, the following pcarcd to disregard it, and who day. and W night after. E‘ven' snowed their disregard by remaining 0“ the secnhd dayu mOSt 0f the upon the bank; these were the two “088 were still on fire. Theyno hunters. longer blazed, for the air was perâ€" Knives in hand, I saw Lithem fectly Still, and there was no Smoping over a dark objgct mat" Wind to fan the fire into flame.â€" lav near, It was the horse that It W33 596“ ID red patches upon Hickman had shot in the morning. the II‘UUkS. SmOUldeb‘ing and gra- I now understood the old hunter’s dually hem ming I933. as its Strength motives, which had hitherto inysti- SI’OWWCPUSIY died Omo Fl‘Om fled me. It was an act'of that cun- “"“LV N the trees the fire had dis- hing foresight thatcharacterised the “Pi’Ui’i'ed altogether. and these man_nppuwmly instinctivg no longer bore any resemblance to They propeeded to skin ,hc trees, butlookedlike huge, sharp- horse; and in a few semndsg hadlpomted stakes, charred, and black, peeled ,,fi‘ a Portion of the hide_w as though profusely coated With sufficient for their purpose. They within"- _ then cut out several large pieces “mugh there were Forum” or of the flesh, and laid them aside.â€"-â€" This done, Weatherford stepped off to the edge of the burning tim- ber, and presently returned With an armful of halfâ€"consumed flightsâ€"â€" These were erected into a fire near the edge of the pond ; and the two men squatting down by its side, commenced broiling the pieces of liorseflesh upon sapling spits, and l conversing as cooily and cheeri-lv team “5' the forest that might have been traversed, there were other places where the fire still burnedâ€"enough to oppose \our progress. We were still besieged by the igneous ele- mentâ€"as completely confined within the circumscribed boundaries of the gladc, as if encompassed by a hos- tile army of twenty times our num- ber. No rescue could possibly Even our enemies, so as if seated in the chimney-corner of tar as 0”" Safety was concerned, their own cabins. There were others as hungry as they, who, taking the hint, proceeded to imitate their example. deemed, thus giving way to mirth The Pangs 0f hunger overcame with a prospect before them so the dread of the hot atmosphere; before the grim and gloomyâ€"the prospect of almost ceitaiu death, either at the hands of our savage assailants. or from starvation. Of the Indians, we had no pre- sent fear. The flames that had driven us out of the timber, had equally forced them from their posi- tion, and we knew they were now far from us. They could not be near. The burnt branches had fallen from the pines. and the foli- age was entirely consumed. so that the eye was enabled to penetrate the forest to a great distance. On every side we commanded a vista of at least a thousand yards, through the intervals between the red glowing trunks; and beyond this we could hear by the 'swiz’ of the flames, and the continual crackling of the boughs, that fresh trees were being embraced within the circle of conflagratiou, still extending its circumference outwai d The sounds grew fainter apacc, until they bore a close resem- blance to the mutteriugs of distant thunder. we might have fancied that the fire was dying out; but the luminous ring around the horiâ€" zon proved that the” flames were still ascending. It was only be- cause the sounds came from a greater distance, that we heard them less distinctly. Our human foes tnust have been still further away. They must have retired Widening rim of the conflagration. Of course they had calculated upon doing so, before applying the torch. In all likeli- hood, they had retreated to the savanna to await the result. Their object in firing the forest was not so easily understood.â€" Perhaps- they expected that the vast volume of flame would close lover and consume us; or, more likely, that we should be smothered under the dense clouds of smoke.â€" ’l‘his in reality might have been our, fate, but for the proximity of the pond. My companions told me that their sufferings from the smoke had been dreadful in the extremeâ€"that they should have *been stifled by it, hat they not thrown themselves into the pond, and. kept their faces close to the surface of the water, which of itself‘ and in a few minutes’ time, a dozen men might have been observed grouped like vultures around the dead horse, hacking and hewing at the carcass. At this crisis occurred the in- cident whichI have characterised as ludicrous. With the exception of the few engaged in their coarse, cuisine, the rest of us had remained in the water. We were lying' round the circular rim of the basin, our bodies parallel to one another, and our heads upon the bank. We, were not dreaming of being dis- turbed by an intruder of any kindâ€"- at least for a time. We were no! longer in dread of the fire and our| savage foemen were far off. All at once, however, an enemy was discovered iii an unexpected quarterâ€"â€"i'ight in the tmidst of us, Just in the centre of the pond, where the water was deepest, a monstrous form rose suddenly to the surfaceâ€"~at the same time our ears were greeted with a loud bcl- lowing, as if half a score of bulls had been set loose into the glade. In an instant the water was agitated â€"â€"â€"lashed into foamuâ€"while the spray ' was scattered in showers arouudl our heads. VVeird-like and sudden as was the apparition, there was no- thing mysterious about it. They hideous form, and deep bovine tone, were well known to all. It was simply an alligator. But for its enormous size, the presence of the creature could not have ' raised the siege.’ The old hunter’s providence had stood as in good stead. But for the horse, some of us must have succumbed to hunger; or, at all evciizs. suffered to an extreme degree. We had now been four days Wit hout food, except what the handful of pine-cones and the horseflesh afforded; and still the fiery forest hemmed us in. was no alternative but .to stay where we were, until, as Hickman phrased it, ’thc woods shed git cool.’ We were cheered with the ih0pe that another day would effect this end, and we might travel with safety amid the calcined trunks, and OVer the black smouldering ashes. (To be continued.) Tun SiLaNT CONFLICTS OF LIFE. lâ€"A triuouph in the field is a theme for poetry. for painting, for history, for all the eulogistic and aggraudiz- ing agencies whose united tribute constitutes Fame ; but there are victories won by men over themsel- ves, more truly honorable to the; conquerors than any that can be achieved in war. Of these silent successes we never hear. The bat- tlcs in which they are obtained are fought in solitude and without help, save from above. The conflict is sometimes waged in the still watches of the night, and the struggle is often fearful. Honor to every conqueror in such a warfare! Honor to the man or woman who fights tempta- tion. hatred. revenge, envy, selfish~ ness back to its last covert in the heart, and thence expcls it for ever. Although no outward show of honor would "accrues to the victors in these good scarcely have been regarded; butlfights, they have their rewardâ€"a it was one of the largest of its kindâ€"its body in length almost equalling the diameter ofthe poii.l,, with huge gaunt jaws that scemedl capable of swallowing one of us at a single ‘gulp.’ Its roar, too. was enough to inspire even the bold- est with terror. It produced this effect; and the wild frightened looks of those in the waterâ€"their confused plung- ing and plashing, as they scrambled to their feet, and hastened to get out of itâ€"their simultaneous rush- ing up the bank, and scattering off over the open groundâ€"all contri- buted to form a spectacle ludicrous as exciting. In less than ten seconds’ time, was several. feet below the level of the great saurian had‘ the Pond the ground. to himself, where he continued to It been. ['0 me an hour, of bellow, and brandish tail as unconsciousness, My faithful black "lumpnam at" 0‘" “mean higher one than Fame can bestow. They come out of the combat self-l cnobled. Even the conquest of a bad or ungcutlemanly habit exalts the man who has subdued it, in his own esteem. He feels ifrom that moment a sense of self-relianceâ€" that he can depend upon himself; and he who can rely upon himself, as a moral agent, is more than a match for the world,,the flesh, and the devil. Women have a much finer sense of the beautiful than men. They are by far the safer umpires in mat- ters of propriety and grace. A mere school-girl will be thinking and writing about the beauty« of birds and flowers, while- -her brother is There found. gainâ€"pay as little regard to the silent non-combatants, who stand looking with wistful eyes at the melee, as if they did not bear the stamp of common humanity, and were not of one brotherhood with- themselves. Ah! it is a terrible thing for a man to feel himself more alone in the presence of tens of thousands of his fellow men, than if he‘were in an uninhabited wilder- ness. Yet so it is with the poor stranger who passes through the crowded city knowing no one, un- known to all, Even when the, feel- ing of isolation is not embittered by poverty. it is hard to bear. ‘And yet, although this feeling is real and natural in the stranger, no rational cause for it exists. The human hearts that beat in citiesâ€"- even the hearts tnat flutter with hope and collapse with fear as “the market” rises and fallsâ€"are not pe- trified. Their sympathies may be dulled, but they are not dead. if a man is run over, or falls from a housetop. these callous hearts are softened in a moment. You shall see a tear glimmering under. the heavy brow of the calculating mer-' chant. and the hand of the specula- tor, that has been all day clutching at gold, bathing with womanly ten- derness the bleeding brow. Aud'wlien the great fight of the day is done,- when the deposits are all made. the lodgers closed, the counting-houses locked, the faces of the business world turned home- wards, do all these busy, hard-brow- ed men think only of. the day’s gains and the mori‘ow’s promise of more? Not so. Charity and mercy, loving- kindness and philanthropy, are not always choaked down by that strong desire for wealth which, it must be confessed, form an integral part of the business character. - Faces con- spicuous on “change ’7 by day, might be found at night, perchance, bending over the couches of the sick and destitute. They have been so “What,” says the reader, “can Mammou play the Good Sam- aritan ?” Perhaps not, but men may toil for riches With almost tsu- perhuman energy, without being vowed to Mammon. Look at the charities of some of our millionaires. Are they not as loyal as their for- tunes? Wealthy Skinflints we have among us it is trueâ€"plenty of them; but they do not form the majority of our men ofsnbstaucc. To return to our stranger, whom we left a paragraph or two back, standing dis- heartened and forlorn amid the com- mercial multitudes. A word in his ear. There is one sympathy alive and active in every heart that beats in that bustling throng. It is sym- pathy with effort. Fortune, in cities, is the child of Energy. Stranger, those men clone theirway to success, and were they struck down to-morrow, would arise and cleave their way to it again. In. tcgrity and Exertion are the Jack- the-giant-killers of the world of ac- tion, and none of its ogres, not even Panic himself, can withstand them. One word in the diffident stranger’s ear and we have done. Push I ' REWARDS or FIDELITY.-â€"Never for- sake a friend when enemies gather around; when sickness falls on the heart; when the world is dark and cheerless, is the time to try true friendship. Those who turn from the Scene of distress betray their liypOcrisy, and prove that interest only moves them. If you have a friend who loves you, who has studied your interest and happiness, be sure to sustain him in adversity. Let him feel that his former kindness isvappre- ciated, and that his» love was-not- throwu away. Rea-l fidelity may bra-rare, butit existsâ€"in the heart. They only deny its worth and power whenever loved arfrieud, or labored to make a friend happyr ,___.___._._..â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"-â€"- A little ragged-urchin, begging in the city the other dav, was asked by a lady, who- had' filled his basket, if his parents were living? ‘Only dad, marm,’ said the boy.’ ‘Then you’ve enough in your basket now to feed the family for some time,’ said the lady. ‘ Oh, no, I haven’t neither,’ said the lad, ‘for dad and me keeps five boarders; he cost of production one-half. robbing the nests» auddestroy-ing the ' flowers: i does the houseâ€"work, and I does the imarket’n.’ “out. -» ‘u/{1N.'\..,-._ _. i: at,“ n" A NEW STUMP Punting From the Globe. The improvements that havebeem made during the last few year‘s in farm machinery are really wonderful In Witnessing the Opct'tttion of the‘ reaper. the. mowingâ€"machine and- horse-rake, and now the stump-' puller, or more correctly. the stump-5 lifter, we are Constrained to ask, how has it happened that the farmer” has delved and plodded' for so many thousand years with little or noaid' from mechanical science ?’ ‘ According to Mr. Pusey, a high English authority, machinery, has" within a few years clieapencd the' This- statement was made in 1851, before _ the reaper and mower had been much used in England. The im-- provements since made will, no" doubt. justifyia still more favorable estimate as to the benefits of ma-- chi'nery. In England labor is cheap; in this country it is, as compared: with outa friend. The gladiators of the with the price of farm products... dear. The advantage of machinery,. therefore, which dispenses with manual labor, is even greater here‘ than in England. A committee of“ the New York State Agricultural Society estimated that the saying in the cost of cutting and curing the' hay crop of the United Statesim 1857, effected by the mowing mar chine alone, was no less than $1~0.« 378.000. In-the State ofNew York it was estimated at $2,796,000. In- Canada, the surface is more favour-- able to the operations of machinery than in the State ofNew York, and but for one obstructionâ€"stumps and rootsâ€"would soon exhibit a larger" saving than that State. Why have these unsightly objects, these injur-- ious impediments to clean and pro. fitable cultivation, been allowed to" encumber so many fields year after year? The dearness of labour has, no doubt, been the principal cause ;; but the time has at length arrived when on that very account no far- mer can afford standing room for“ dead stumps. He must “clear the track” for machinery, or he will soon be found in the money market instead of the-grain market.. We have lately seen a small ma-~ chine, made by Patterson dz; Brother, Richmond Hill, and costing only about $60, which, with three or" four men, will upset any reasonable stump in five munites. Here, then, is the aid which the farmer needsâ€"~ machinery is at hand to prepar: the way fur machinery. There is no' longer any excuse for permitting: stumps to' “cumber the ground.” after their mots are dead. This machine, in our judgment, is a great improvement on all previous- stump-pullers. 1st, It is cheaper.- 2nd. It does not require ox or horse- power' 3d, It is more portable, being easily carried from stump to stump. 4th.. It liftsnthe stump per-- pendicularly. pulling: up, instead of breaking off tap-roots. 5th, The earth adhering to the roots may be' easily knocked off before the stump is removed. 6th, It may be usedfor lifting. rocks and large stones.- 7th, With theaid ofa strong lever,~ its power may be better applied in‘ some cases, and enormously in- creased. The principle is tliat’ off the Windlass, or capstan, placed hori- zontally. Two upright posts, about eight that long, are braced together at the top, and armed with feet at the bottom to prevent them sinking into the soil.. About five feet from the ground, astrong iron axle, tw0* feet or thereabouts in length, rests upon each of the posts. To each end is attached a strong ratchet- wheel, 8- inches in diameter. Two' iron lever sockets are also attached: to the axle, with books to play on- tlie teeth of the ratchet wheels, and:x pails to prevent them running back. A‘ piece of inch cable, and two long levers-fitted to the sockets, completes the apparatus, It operates as fol- lows-‘zâ€"A largo root or prong is prepared for the chain by digging away- the earth. The machine is- placcd-ovcr this, one foot on either side. The chain is hooked on a. pin at one end of the axle, passed under the root, brought up and hook-- ed on a similar pin at the other end. The levers are raised as high as the men can reach and brought tor the ground, turning the axle and: winding up the chain. This process= continues till the stump is lifted-from its bed. I-fa large one, itE isblockcd up, and the machine taken to the Opposite side, attachedit‘o a root", and operated in a: similan manner. A little preparatory digging and cut-' ting. is necessary in the case oflarge pine stumps stand-ingiuav clay soil.. BititE this labour isrnotr lost‘, being rev quired in. any case to prepare the“ stump for burning. Th‘eNewYork Tribune in its re-- port of‘thc N. Y. State Fair, held at Albany,,on the 7th October Iast,,. thus speaks of Messrs. Patterson 55 Brother‘s Stump Puller :â€"â€"~“ its use» and-efficiency is apparent, and its. simplicity commends it- at once to» attention.” * * *' "The very best of all machines we ever; saw for Stump or Stone lifting.” People often say of a man that he is a- Tliis can never be true,. for if he Were, nobody could find. it onto. it cunning fellow.