Mâ€" pram. ALWAYS LOOK ON THE SUNNY SIDE. ‘Always look on the sunny side. And though life checker’d be, A liglitsonie heart bids care depart, And time fly pleasantly. Why sit and mourn o’er fancied ills, “’hen danger is not near I Care is a self-consuming thing, That hardest nerves can wear. ,Always look on the sunny side, And though you do not ï¬nd, i All things according to your wish, . Be not disturbed in mind , I The greatest evils that can come Are lighter far to bear, When met by fortitude and strength, Instead of doubt and fear Always look on the sunny sideâ€" There’s health in harmless jest, t And much to soothe our woridy cares Iii hoping for the best; †The gloomy path is far too dark I For happy feet to tread. And tells of pain and solitude-â€" Of friends estranged and dead... Always look on the sunny side, And never yield to doubt , The ways of l’rovidence are wise, 'And faith will hear you out, If you but make this maxim yours, And in its strength abide :_ Believing all is for the bestâ€" Look on, the sun iy side. THE MINUTES. We are but minutes~littlo things I Iiacli one furnished ‘.‘.’illl siXty wings, \‘o III) which we fly on, our unseen track, And not a minute ever comes back. We ate but llllllllIeSâ€"=:._‘t'£>i each one hears A little» buidcn ofjoys and cures, 'I‘hkc patienty the minutes of painâ€" The waist of minutes caiiiiot remain. A few of the drops from pleasure’s spring Taste their sweetness while yet we stayâ€"â€" It takes but a iiiiiiitte to fly away. “’0 are but ininntesrâ€"use IIS wellâ€"- “’0 are but iiiiiiutesalnvlien we bring I For how we are used we must one: a_\' tell; j \Vlio mes iiiiirtitos, Iias‘ours to nseâ€"-' \Vlio lows minutes, .wliolo years must lose. Illih‘t‘iilttit. , » ~~ I b A. thNFESSION '03" I. . LIGHTS do SHADOWS OF MAIIRIED LIFE. ..‘_.r My friend lI married iii early life. The lady that he chose was a beautiful but weak 'niiiided girl. II was a \‘.’ll(')lU-SQUIC(I, pleasure- Iori'ig youth, the life ofevm'y circle be favoured \\Illl his company. The club of which he was a mem- ber acknowlodged, lie‘was the wit- tiest and handsomost man a Hong thcm; hot, as l have already said, II married early; and now let me add only three months had claps- cd when avgj-Qwel‘a{id - a. marked changeinwour favourite. ' M IIis bright smile "WilS'Cll’flllng for a serious and often sad expression; he came to the club-room dess fre- quently than had bc'm his wont, and while there he read his paper" and smoked, SeIdoni'ijoinirig‘dii-airy eon» versalion. He had been in_ the habit of tak- ing out. but. one cigar during the evening, and that was sometimes thrown away halllconsumed. Now he seemed to smoke, as some persons do drink, “to drive away duII care.†When the door was opened he start- ed, and held the cigar half-hidden by his paper, as if afraid 'of being caught in some forbidden enjoy- ment. , After I had observed my friend, evening alter evening, and felt con- vinch that some secret sorrow was destroying h's peace. I one night left the room with‘ him, offering to accompany, him home. He drew my arm within his own, and gave my hand a friendly pressure; as he turned his face towards the gas light I saw that a tcarjstood in his eye. I said, “H , You'a’re in' trouble â€"â€"can I relieve youl Do you need pecuniary aid'l If so, let me have the pleasure of bestowing-it. You have a young wife, and your expen- ses must necessarily have increased -â€"perhaps more than you anticipat- ed; and young lawyers sometimes have to wait long for their fees. If you would like to borrow money, say so; I have more than enough for an old bachelor.†“Old bachelor I Would"‘th'at I were- .†Here he paused, and turning to me added,“ 8 - ., reveal not what I have just uttered. You have always been a brother to me, and you shall know the cause of my distress; I am sure you -will never make an improper use of what I tell you.†After assuring him that he might safely conï¬de in me-â€"that I would never divulge his scored until I had received his permissionml listened to the following recital. “I married too hastily; Clara’s beauty dazzled me, andI saw not her defects; the poor girl declares she loves me, but preferable would be her hatred, I cannot leave her presence without being obliged on my return to account for every mo- momenth my absence. Any spot ALEX. SCOTT, Proprietor. AURORA AND RICHMOD HILL any ‘-‘ Let Sound Reason weigh more with us. than Popular Opinion.†OCATE AND ADVERTISER. V TERMS: $1 50 In Advance. Vol. 11- N0... seek peace elsewhere without a ccrw tainty that I must pay a severe pen« alty. My wife forbids me to smoke in her presence, therefore I must go abroad to enjoy what I cannot dis- for a servant. opened the Window, and applied rcs'torativcs. We bore is better than my home yet I cannot soon revived. ' RICHMOND HILL, FRIDAY. APRIL 13. 1860. pale, and dropped her head upon myl on the table were a cup and saucer, shoulder. She, had fainted. I rang besides otherarrangementsforacom- her to her sleeping room, and she ' peered. Whole N 0. 72. ently to prevent the movement, giv- What is it that imparts to Nature- , ing them a volley of musketry and it its poetry? It is not in Nature it- I broadside before they could reco,Ver self; it resides not either in deadjthemselves. Twice was this man- or organized matter, in rock. or’tBuvre repeated, and twice thus fortable supper, , I rangfthebell, and the waiter ap- I asked who placed my slippers there. He smiled andsaid, {run POETTY on NATURE.lof execution by shearing off sufï¬ci- In a letter to, the Ansted says :; “ There are in England nine distinct tracts of country where these rocks come; to the surface which are known to yield; coal. These districts are called coalâ€"fields 'x the smallest of them includes more than 60,000, and the larger more than 600,000. acres of coal lands, under the greater part of which coal. has been, is, or may be, worked to proï¬t. Scotland contains an- other million of acres of such coal. Bee. sides these tracts, marked, in our geologi- cal maps, there are others exceedingly large but less clearly made out, in which coal is also. to. be got, although the coal- bearing beds are covered up with 800nm“! lotions of newer rocks. All these will be available when the price. of coal justiï¬es the outlay that will be involved in mining them. The best known and largest of our coal-fields are the, Newcastle and Durham, the Lancasliire, the Yorkshire, the South Staffordshire and \Varwickshire, and the South Welsh. The ascertained acreage Times, 'Mn-i D- T. continue at once. Indeed the desire for such an indulgence increases Iasked, what made youiill? Was “I saw mistress put them there: it the cigar? Why'did you not speak bird, or floWer; “ the deep saith itlaverted. sir.†is not in me, and the sea saith it is l‘that they were only punishing them- The Spaniards, ï¬nding with my efforts to leave it off.†when you ï¬rst felt its effects P" and As it was not a late hour, I was not in me.†It is in the mind that ' selves, of coal in these amounts to 25 millions. Adding to this the million of acres in Scot- land, and half a million for. the smaller‘ Suddenly starting my friend ex- claimed.â€"“ There she is. new, with her head out of the window this cold night, though Ihave besought her not to expose her health in this way, but such is her revenge for my go- ing abroad. Can you wonder that I am changed I I would rather die than live thus.†EreI had spoken many words of consolation we were at my friend’s. door. ’s hand I was pressmg II I when the door opened,â€anda delicate but beautiful ady held a light, which showed too plainly the frown which disfigured her fair face. “ Well, sir, home at last?†and the door closed ere, my friend had finished saying good night. _ I was enraged and declared any man was a fool to. submit to such treatment. I resolved that I would marry in loss than a month, to Show H and other unfortunates that a woman can be governed. I lay awake that night thinking over all my lady friends. and considering which should be my victim. Some were too silly, others too plain-loqu ing; but I remembered that one was! beautiful, intelligent, and so high- spirited that to subdue her would be a grand achievement. I had wealth, position, and (ex- cuso my vanity.) not a bad person. The fair one in question I had always admired, and she had always reCoiv- ed me well. Indeed. I had been as- sured by an acquaintance with Miss O that I was a favourite with her. But as I had resolved to lead a singl; life. [had hover entertain- ed any serious intentions towards the one Inow determined to marry, if she would accept me. I decided to put on the chains of matrimony to prove that they could not always onâ€" slave. In thrce weeks from that rziulit I _ D had caught my bird. We were to be united towards the close of the coming week, :in accordance “with my ‘ivislies,'_t-lii'rt‘ might spend the holidays-with my parents in Vir- ginia. On our return we took posess'on cf our newly furnished mansion. We gave a large party,vor rather it was my party, that I might invite till“rri-y~baclieloi‘ friends aswell as well as some poor unhappy married, ones. ' I was dstontshcd when my bride agreed to all my arrangements, though she knew as well as I did they , were peculiar. I could not offend her by any of my propositions; she gave no unask-g ed for adviceâ€"merely asscnting to! I all I said. “ Oh, a new broom sweeps clean,†thought I. “ She will show out when no longer .a bride; I know she is proud and high-spirited enoughf’ The evening passed delightfully, and] confess I was skeptical as to my ability to disturb my Wife’s peace of mind. The guests retired after payingl many compliments on my choice of! a wife, and we were alone. As soon ' as I could interrupt Mary’s gay and I charming conversation I said: “ My dear, what did you think of my having the wine and smoking ar» rangements for the gentlemen I†“Oh, it- was a capital idea, my husband. It must have pleased your bachelor friends to see that you could not forget their comfort. although no longer one of them. I must note it down that it may never be forgotten when we give entertainments; marâ€" ried people are too indifferent about the comforts of poor old bache- lors." . I was again disappointed, but 1 determined not to retire until I call- cd forth one frown or pouting Iook.. My wife had been sitting with one arm around me; I gently drew my- self from her embrace, (I could not do it rudely,) and took a cigar from my case. Iknew that before ourj engagement she disliked the habit of smoking. I calmly seated myself upon a longe and puffed away. “ Did you observe Mrs. M ’s brooch 'I†inquired my'wife, coming toward me, seating herself by my side. “ No," I replied, and smoked away vigorously. Mary continued 0 chat gaily, but suddenly turned r'tioii, instead of in the enjoyment of I felt myself blush with shame as I hurriedly asked these questions. “I wish to accustom myself to your smoking,†answered my wife; for I cannot hear to drive you from surprised that my wife was not wait- ing for me, although [requested her to'retire if sleepy. . I askedg“ Has Mrs. B. retired 'I†The servant replied, “NO sir, she is my presence every time you Wlsll to *- in the kitchen, teaching Nancy- and enjoy a cigar.†“Angel I†I exclaimed, never smoke again I†“ I shall “- Oh, my ' husband,†she said, glass over the door. “v make no rash premises; the habit is not easily overcome, and I do not Wtin you to discontinue it; now that Iknow I cannot bear it, I can re- tire to the library when you wiin to smoke.†She has never been obliged to leave me thus; I have never smoked since, and would not-be hired to take an- other cigar in my mouth. A night or two after the above occurrancc I was sitting by my wife who was amusing me by recounting in the events of the day which had just passed, some incidents relative to her housekeeping, doc. I was charmed by her affection and navict'te and would gladly have remained by her side, But she was to be subdued in all respects, and in one she had not been tried. Since our marriage I had not visited the club-room. I looked at my watch and carelesst remarked, I shall. go to the club, Mary; if you grow Sleepy, do not wait for me, I have a key.†A shade of sadness flitted across her beautiful face, but it was suc- ceeded by one of her brightest smiles Springing from my side, she ran to ‘ the hall, brought out my ovm'coat, shoes, etc., placed them before the fire, and said; Do not forget to warm them be: fore you lean e the club, my husband, and walk fast that you may not get cold; indeed, I have another reason for Wishing you to hasten Iiomc; it, will be a lonely evening withoutl you; but you have deprived yourself of better society so long tbatIcan bear to spend an evening in anticipa- your company.†I hesitated~â€"tilinostdecided not to go; but it would not do to yield. I went, and was almost as dull as , who Was also there. He observed my manner and whispered. "in trouble already I†-“‘ch,.†I answered, and , shall. be in trouble until I acknowledge my- self conquered. I- married to enjoy the pleasure of ‘taming a shrcw,’ but I find myself wedded to an angâ€" el. I must confess my mistake, and make myself worthy the wife God had given me. Some other bache- lor must woo a woman to show that a female can be ruled. I am van- quished and gladly do I yield to such a victor. Poor IIâ€"W, sighed, rose, and walked the llooi' for some minutes, then approaching me he said:â€" " Why this differench Your wife-l is beatit.fol and gt'acefulâ€"â€"so is mine. Your wife says she loves youâ€"~30 does mine.†“ Yoursâ€"- “Hold,†interrupted I. “ Your wife says she loves youâ€"mine proves it by consulting my happi- ness. You warned me against my wife’s pride and spirit; I grant she possesses a large quantity of both, and what would a women be with- out thcse traits? Mary has excel- lent sence and tackâ€"These teach her how to control these character- istics which might make us both un- happy. ch H ., any man who has brains at all must not choose a beautiful Wife without intellect; ra- ther let him wed one with a plain face, a warm heart, and good sens i.†I shook hands with poor H , and pitied him sincerely, then cross- ed the hall to the room where were assembled many members of the club. I made a farewell address,in which I advised them to follow my example, and shook hands with them all. Some bantered me, but the greatest number said their acquaint- ancp with my wife had half induced them to look around for an oppor tunity to do as I had done; and they all promised to accept my wife‘s in. vitation to come freely to our home whenever they felt like having quiet domestic en'oyment. ‘ I hastene home. entered the din: ing room, Where I saw the gas burnâ€" ing; my slippers before the fire, near )) Ellen to read.†I then stole quietly down to the kitchen, and peeped through the The large pine table containing books, slates,.etc. There sat my wife between two black females, one was reading to her, and the eyes of the other were gazing on the face of her mistress as a she considered her a being from if better world. I returnedto tlic diningâ€"room, rang" the. bell, and when the, waiter re-ap- pcaredl bade him inform his mis- tress of my arrival. I fear some long word was left half pronounced, for in less than two minutes, she was, in my arms. “ Oh, how good of you to return so early I†cried 'she; "but why did you I Was it not pleasant with your club 'I†' ‘ “ No, my wife," I replied, " I shall go to it no more. It answeredivei‘y well when I had no house of my 'own; but now I have a dear, sensible, lov. mg wife, who is more attractive than all the clubs in Christendom.†Mary blushed at t compliment, and burying her face in my bosom to hide the tears that would come in spite of the smile, said, “May I ever deserve such praise and love from. you, my husband;*when you left me this evening, I sat one mo- men: on the lounge, and shed tears, because I felt so lonely; then I thought this will not do; Charles must sometimes leave me; I will improve usefully every hour of.his absence. So after preparing for your rcturnl went to the kitchen to iii- struct our women,â€- _ . ‘; Myrwife insisted :upon" my going to the Club. Once 'a‘ week, lest" my bachelor friends become jealous of her, but they have witnessed so much of our happiness that I think the club room will not much longer be the resort of any but miserable rejected old bachelors and unhappy husbands. VViniNG UP A DINNER PARTY AT DIEI.BoUnNE.+-fl‘lie public,as Well as private dinner parties, soon became too much for me. They sometimes resembled what one reads of the convivialities, after a day’s hunting, among the Irish squirearchy of a century ago. On one occasion, when the mirth was growing fast and furious, being inspired by al bantering joke on the teatherbed horsemen ‘of 'Charing-cross,’ fol... lowed by a trifling bet, I bent the steel poker by a blow upon my arm, which so enchanted a stalwart squatter at my side, who had never seen the feat before, that he snatchâ€" ed the poker out of my hand, and' without considering what muscle he should present, he struck his arm so violent a blow that the poker instantly broke, and the up- p.:r part flying across the table cut ed†the heads of two decanters, and knocked elf a branched candlestick. The delight and excitement which ensued, exceeded all bounds.â€" The door was locked, the table was jumped upon, and down it went with all upon it in a rolling smash. Single combats took place with mahogany chairs, the broken arms and legs of which flew about in all directions. While I was trying to force open the door, a gentleman came with the steel fender in his arms to demolishl the window, and his ï¬rst blow notl only smashing the glass but half the framework. I immediately leapt out on the Verandah. I made my way homeward OVer I’rince’s Bridge, which seemed so desolate“ and silent, and thence up the rising ground, broken by a great strag- gling watercourse, till I regained my lonely tents, where I found my two dogs standing in the moonlight, anxiously awaiting my return.â€"- ter, the whole of her shot must‘ flustralian Facts and Prospects. Talleyrand, speaking of a VVBIISEHOIVD lady, said, emphatically. ‘She is insuffer- able I’ Then, as if relentin ‘ But that is her only fault." When is a bonnet not a bonnet Iâ€"-â€" was as distinctly heard by us as by which was drawn a great arm-chair When it becomes a lady. ,it lives. and breathes; external nature is but its storehouse of SUb-ï¬â€˜ jams and models, and it is not un- til these are called up as images, and invested with “the light that never was on land or sea,†that they ceased to be of the earth earthly, and from the ethereal stuff: of which the visions of the poet are‘ made. Nay, it is not mainly through that associative faculty to which the sights and sounds of present, nature become suggestive of the images of a nature not present, but seen within the mind, that the landscape pleases, or that we ï¬nd beauty in its woods or its streams, or the impressive and the sublime among its moumains and rocks ?â€"-= Nature is a vast tablet inscribed with Signs, each of which has its own significancy, and becomes po- etry in the mind when read; and geology is simply the key by which myriads of the signs, hitherto un- decipherable, can be unlocked and perused, and thus a new province added to the poetical domain. -We are told by travellers that the rocks of the wilderness of Sinea are let- tered over with strange characters, gave up further attempts to board, and stood to their guns, which were cutting up. our rigging from stem, to. stern, but do,- 'ing little further damage ;, for after the lapse of an hour, the loss to the .Speedg was only two men killed and four wounded. This kind of combat, however, could not lashâ€"1:- Our rigging being cut up, and thc Speedy’s sails being riddlcl with shot, I told the men that they must either take the frigate or be them. selves taken, in which case the Spaniards would give no quarterâ€"~â€" while a few, minutes energetically .employed on their part would decide the matter in our favour. The doc- tor, Mr. Guthrie, who, I am happy to say, is. still living to peruse this record of his gallantry, volunteered to take the-helm; leaving him, ‘therefore, for the time both com- mander and crew of the Speedy, the order was given to board, and in a few seconds every man was on the enemy’s deckâ€"a feat rendered the more easy, as the doctor placed the able skill. For a moment the Spaniards seemed taken by sur- prise, as though unwilling to believe inscribed during the forty years’_ wanderings of Israel I They testify, in their very existence, of a remote past, when the cloud-o’ershadowed tabernacle rose amid the tents of the desert; and who shall dare say whether to the scholar who could dive into their hidden meanings hey might not be found chargedl with the very songs sung of old by Moses ‘ d by ,Miri’am, when the sea rolled eyer the pride of Egypt? To the geologist every rock bears its inscription, engraved in ancient hieroglyphic characters that tell of “he Creator’s journeyings of old, laws'wh-ich’fle gave, the tabernacles. that so small a crew would have the audacity to heard them; but soon recovering themselves, they made a rush to the waist of the frigate, where the light was for some min- utes gallantly carried on. Observ- ing the enemy’s colours still flying, I directed one of our men immedi- ately to haul them down, when the Spanish crew, without pausing to consider by whose orders the col- ours had been struck, and naturally believing it the act of their own of- floors, gave in, and we were in pos- session of the Gonzo frigate. of, thirty-,twoheavy' guns and 319 men, wlioan hour and a half before had Speedy close alongside with admir- . areas, we have a total of four millions of acres, or in round numbers, 6,000 square miles of coal lands in, the British Islands, Now, as an acre oontaius 4,840 square yards, and a cubic yard of solid coal weighs nearly one ton, there thus appears to be 24,200 tons of coal per acre of coal lands; on a general average; but asa large quan--'. tity of coal in every coal-ï¬eld is, from vari-. ous causes, not obtainable, and another- large part is lost by the ordinary mode of" extractio_ii,\Ye cannot calculate on more. than one third of this, say 8,000 tons per acre, as the quantity "that can be removed, and sold. This would give about 5,000.-. 000 tons of coal for every square mile of coal lands. The annual consumption of coal at present in England cannot be less than 8,000,000 tons, so that we are now exhausting about 16, 5 euro miles of our coal lands each year. Estimating the area of coal lands at 6,000 square miles this - would give a duration of rather more than 350 years. The coal area, in Belgium and - Rhenisli Prussia together is not more than, one-eighth part, and in France not one fifth part that of England and Scotland ;' the average thickness of coal is smaller, and the poSition of those coals is gener- ally less favorable in the former district, for extraction, and in the latter for trans: port to sea. The quantity of coal known to exist in North America, both in the United States and British possessions is so. large that for all practicable purposes it may bercgarded as inexhaustiblep Coal is also abundant in India. China, Borneo, Eastern Australia, and South Africa. Owing to the advanced position of Eng: land in practical mining operations and the facility and economy with which she can place her large supplies in the markets of the world, at a cost so low at present as to eXclude competition, her coal will no doubt be extracted very rapidly for years to come. But should the adYancing in- dustry of other countries. reduce the price below that at which profit is secured by our colliers, orsliould the cost of extrac: tion increase with us out of proportion to.’ the rest of the world, the demand tor ex- portation would be at once checked, and which He t‘cm‘ed.zand the marvels looked upon us as a certain, if not which He‘ wroughtâ€"~0f mute pi‘o- an easy prey. Our loss in boarding phecies wrapped up in type and was, Lieutenant Parkerâ€"severely symbolâ€"Of earth gulfs that opened. wounded in several places, one sea- and of reptiles that flewâ€"0f ï¬ery man killed and three wounded,whicli plagues that devastated the dry with those previously killcdfand land, and of hosts more numerous Wounded, gave a total of three sea- than that of Pharoah, that “sank men killed, and one officer and like lead in the mighty waters ,†seventeen men wounded. The and having. In some degree "133- Game’s loss was Captain De Torres term the OCCUlt meanings Of these â€"the boatswainâ€"and thirteen sea- sti‘ange l'iioroglypbics, we must be men killed, together with fortyâ€"one permitted to refer, in asserting the wounded; her casualties «thus ex- poetry. Of our Science, to the 8115- ceeding the whole number of of- ,ject being, as we were g, be added, disadvantage under which they were rm: revelations with which they are Charged, and the vivid imagâ€" inery which.they'.;conjure up.. Esv says by the late’Hug/t .leler. ONE OF COCIAIRANE’S.,.EX~ ‘PLOITS, RELATED BY HIMSELF. ‘ We made towards the frigate which was now coming under steer~ ing sails.. At 9.30 a.m., she ï¬red a gun and hoisted Spanish colours, which the Speedy acknowledged by hoisting American colours, our obâ€" now ex- posed to her full broadside, to puzzle her, till we got on the other tack, when we ran up the English ensign, and immediately afterwards encountered her broadside without damage. Shortly afterwards she gave us another broadside, also without effect. My orders were, not to fire a gun till we were close to lier;-wlien, running under her lee, we locked our yards amongst her rigging, and in this position returned our broadside, such as it was. To have fired our popgun four-pounders at a distance would have been to throw away the am- munition; but the guns being doubly. and, asI afterwards learned, treny shotted, and being elevated, they told admirany upon her main deck ; the first dIScliarge, as was subSequcntly ascertained, killing the Spanish captain and the boatswain. My reason for locking our small craft in the enemy’s rigging was the one upon which I mainly relied for victory, viz: that from the height of the frigate out of the waâ€" necessarily go over our heads, whilst our guns, being elevated, would blow up her main deck. The Spaniards speedily found out the ï¬ghting, and gave the order to board the Speedy,- but as this order them, we avoided it at the moment ficers and on board the Speedy. cre W THE TRUE BUSINESS OF LIFE.-â€"- Never faint, halt, or despair, be- cause you cannot realize your ideal, and do the thing you would. Only do the best you can, and no autho- ritative judgment shall condemn you Your will may be equal to your ideal, while circumstanCcs may raise an insuperable bar; for the time be-. ing, at least. How many persons make wreck of talent in sighii’ig for opportunities to do other and more than their circunistances warrant? They disdain the low rounds of the ladder, which most assuredly lead to the high. They have a notion of what is perfect accomplishment, and are unwilling to. take any half-way preliminary steps. They have no faith in the proverb,-â€"‘ Half a loaf is better than no bread.’ If they would study the record, they would soon learn that the most famous winners oftlie whole leaves were at the start willing and ready to taket any slice they could get. Our true business in life is to make the most of the means and opportunities we haveâ€"snot to neglect small advant- ages because wc cannot have large ones. By cultivating the small we may make it easier to compass the great. I THE TALENT or SUocsss.â€"-Every man must patiently abide his timi. He must wait. Not in listless idleness, not in useless pastime, not in quorulous (lejec tion, but in constant. steady, cheerful en- deavour, always willing, fulï¬lling-and acâ€" complishing his task, ‘ that when the occaâ€" sion comes be may be equal to the occa- sion.’ The talent of success is nothing more than doing what you can do well, without a thought of fame. If it comes at all, it will come because it is deserved, not because it is sought after, Always be quite as careful, in your business transactions, of taking credit as of giving it, the drain upon our resources would dimin-_ ish. Like all other articles of. commerce the trade in coal may safely be left to ar- range itself, a (I Will do so with greatest; certainty of beneï¬t to all parties, both new and centuries hence, by being left to its natural growth, restrained only by those checks which nature has imposed.†‘ THE CLIMATE AND, FRUITS OE NE W ZEALAND, IN spite of its uncertaintyâ€"its sudden storms of wind and rain, its logs, liail-. storms, and occasional earthquakesâ€"the climate of New zealand must'bc delight- ful, and its scenery a constant pleasure. Dr. 'I liomson, of the 58th Regiment, has, just published an elaborate account of the colony, past and present, savage and civili~ zed, in which he says: “ Every European plant grows in the colony, while the ger- . anium, arum, fuchsia, balsam, myrtle, helio- ti-Opc, and Cape bulbs live in the open air, Flowers blow quickly, but; the fragrance of the lily and the rest) are not equal to that exhaled from lilies and roses in Eng: land. Figs. peaches, grapes, nectarines, plums, and melons, ripen in the open air, side by side with apples and pears, but the temperature in summer is not sufï¬ciently warm in the southern parts of the colony to bring these delicate fruits to high per- fection. At Nelson, in the Middle Island, melons, grapes, and nectarines ripen better than in any other part of New Zealand, Campbor, spices, and the luscious fruits of Oriental orchards do not ripen in any parts of New Zealand although the taro and sweet potato, originally brought by the na-. tires from the tronics, still survive. and are cultivated for food by the aboriginesliving north of Bank’s l’eniusâ€"ula. Potatoes and maize ripen side by side on the North Isl~ and, a circumstance rarely observed in Europe. The aloe, which seeds in South America in four years, and in England with dilliculty after a long series of years, seeds in the neighboroood of Auckland in eleven years. An idea of, the seasons in New Zealand may be drawn from English strawâ€" berries being ripe in November, December- and January; cherries and gooseberries in January ; apples, pears, plums, and peaches, in February; and melons, figs, and grapes in March and April. Spring, in short, commences in September, summer- in December, autumn in _April, and winter. June. The summer mornings, even in the. warmest parts of the colony, are sufficient-2 ly fresh to exhilarate without chilling, and the seasons glide imperceptiny into, each other. The days are an hour shorter. at; each end of the day in summonand an hour longer in winter than in England. The beauty of the day is in the early morn-r ing, and at this hour, away from the settleâ€" ments of men, a solemn stillness prevades the air, which is only broken by theshrilll and tinkling voices of birds. Summer nights are often singularly beautiful and mild, and on such occasions the settlers, are frequently enticed from their houses to wander’about in thea upen air,