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J, MW”"“ - tittrq. ' '- STRANGERS YET. 1R9)! THACKARAV’S CORNHILL MAGAZINt. Strangers 'yet 1 After yearsofdife, together, After fair and stormy weather, After travel in fair lands, After touch of wedded hands.â€" .LVVhy thus'joined ? .why ever met 7 If they must be strangers yet. Strangers ’yet ! iAfter childhood’s winning ways, After care, and blame, and praise, Counsel asked. and wisdom given, .After mutual prayers to heaven, Child and parent scarce regret . ,When they partâ€"are strangers yet. Strangers yet 3 After strife for common ends, “After title of old, friends, After passion fierce and tender, 'After Cheerful" self-su rrender, Hearts may beat and eyes he wet. And the souls be strangers Yet. Strangers yet 3 Strange and bitter thoughts to scan All the-loneliness of man ! Nature by magnetic laws Circle into circle draws; Circles only touch when mot. ‘ ' Never mingleâ€"strangers yet. Strangers yet l . Will it overmore be thusâ€" Spiiits still impervious 1 Shall we ever fairly send v Soul to soul, as hand to hand? Are the bounds eternal set To retain us strangers yet 7 Strangers yet 3 Tell not love it must aspire Unto something otherâ€"higher ? God himself were lOVed the best, Were man’s sympathies at rest; Rest above the strain and fret Of the world of strangers yet? Strangers yet I 'itiltiuturt. ._.__..._ THE BOX LOUNGE; 0r. c‘ia; Feet if Reasons why Miss Funny Grey (Uncle Joshua’s daughter) would” ’t marry ‘ ' City Illr. Jacobs . A COUNTRY ROMANCE. (Candi/MINI.) ‘l‘ll burn the i-bluc dross Up " she UXt'lallllt'tl, as soon as she lliltl regained her own room.- ‘1 shall hate M". J.(:ol)s‘, I’m sure l shall! Must hr.- always sec me in my rnosr ridiculous pliglrts.'l’ She actually (tried with vt-xalion; then sat down “'and wished lll her heart she Could just got a glimpse of Nathan. she would like to see if he looked sad or happy. - When Fanny told the morning’s events to Uncle Joshua, he only laughed heartily and poohooed at it, and told Fanny Mr. Jacobs was a gentlcrrran, and she must treat him as though she did not know he had been in the parlor. But :1 WO- man finds it dillicult to forgive the spectators of any of her si‘ly absur- dities, however unintentionally he may have acted Such a part; and Fanny, notwithstanding it was very than. Fame“ you kllowv ‘5 50 5"” plain that Mr. Jacobs sought her so- ciety on all occasions, avoided him just as much as possible. He made "tip his mind at last that her heart was prevengagcd, and deter- mined to find outwwho was his ri- val, if he could. In a little sitting-room down stairs stood a box Iourrgc, answering at the same time for closet and a couch. It was simply a rough boardbox, about six feet long and two feet wide, with a lid on it.â€"â€" It was far from bring air-tight, the back being pretty well perforated with knot holes. It was no longer used to put anything in, but it was Ur’iéle Joshua’s favorite’ resting- place. when he came in at night ahdhad lllS ‘wash’ after a hard day’s work. In this little roonr was one deep window, (:urtuined with chintz and opening upon the porch. _,The afternoon was sultry, and Fanny sat alone in this little room. Her thoughts were earnestly dwell- ing upon Cousin Nathan, and to- tally unaware that Mr. Jacobs sat outside the open window. Fanny’s check was not as rosy as it used to be; and when Uncle Joshua noticcd li‘cr',troublcd. anxious look, and saw that the roses had fled from her fade, he wondered if Nathan had anything to do with it. pondered the matter very seriously lately, and had said to himself, He had I ‘,What’s the use Joshua of stepping between two happy young things like that: Mr. Jacobs With all his money, isn’t half so good a match for Fanny as your nephew, and as for those idiotic grand childrenâ€" that’s rather counting chickens afore they are hatchedâ€"and you might as Well run the risk of them, as to make your daughter unhappy-’â€" Moreover, Uncle Joshua, not aware of Fanny’s constant and studied celdness toMr. Jacobs, was a little piquedthat he had not been suffici- ently struck with Fanny’s charms to [propose for her hand, and on this same sultry afternoon, when Fanny’s morning kiss had clung to him all day long, he suddenly threw vwv ALEX. SCOTT, Proprietor. “ Let Sound Reason weigh more with AURORA AND RICHMOND HILL! ADV V01. 11. N0. 330 marry, let ’cm marry. Joshua, you are rich enough, if Nathan ain’t, and you can set ’em up in such a style as would make Mr. Jacobs’ eyes watcr.’ Acting upon the kindly impulse, he started for the house. Meanwhile, Fanny had been startled at seeing a shadow fall across the tlrreslrhold, and looking up, she clasped her two little hands over her breast and ejaculat- ed, oh, Nathan! The next moment he had her in his arms, and their lips met as cousins’ will sometimes. Then Fanny drew herself up and stepped back. ‘How is it, Nathan, you came to see me to-day, when you have kept away so long, and besides, gave me up without bidding me good bye 1’ ‘Nay, Fanny,’ said Nathan, his sunburnt checks reddening a little, ‘you don’t know how Uncle Joshua talked to me never to set foot in his house. again till you were put out of my reach by being married to. some one else.’ ‘Oh, that?’ ‘Indecd, he did; and be for- bade my bidding you good bye, and l have had such a lonely. wretched feeling in my heart all this time. Nathan! did father say Then I heard you were soon to be married to this New York chap as is staying around here, and I couldn’t stay away any longer.’ ‘ \Vhat, Mr. Jacobs! W'hy, Nathan, I hate him. Iwould like some fairy would pick him up and sit him down gently on the summit of Mount Blanc. I wouldn’t marry Mr. Jacobs if he and I were the last ol'rrcation and only one strip of green turf left for us to inhabit. I would rather jump off or push him off, that's sure, for I can’t hear him.’ ‘ Oh, Fanny, what a rt-licfto me to hear you say that. It pays me for sneaking into a man’s house in this way, ulrcn I’ve been as good as turned out of it. I felt mean tol do it, mighty mean; but oh. Fanny if you only love me, I would \vak into the dominions of the Fire King himself, though he waved a tire brand in my face to keep me out.’ Again their lips met in that cousinly way, and just at that mo ment they heard Uncle Joshua’s step coming towards the door. ‘Ho musn’t find you here, Na- in his wayâ€"he would never for- give you. Herc,’ she cried, liftingi up the lid of the lounge, ‘jump in hereâ€"lie down and I will let you, out as soon as I can.’ Nathan was in, the lid closed, and the cushion replaced on the lounge before Nathan fairly knew' what he Was about. When Uncle Joshua came in, Funny was on herI knccs, brushing up some shreds into“ the dust pan. Unobsorved, she managed to put her lips close to one of the knot holes and whisper, ‘can you brcathe?’ to which Na- than as softly replied, ‘ Yes, but it’s awful hot here.’ ' Uncle Joshua sat down and called Fanny to his knee. You are looking pale, child, and you’re troubled. What ails you !â€" Tell your old father, Fanny.’ ‘I am not sick, father; indeed, I am not. How can I be sad? I! am not ; but I'do wish Mr. Jacobs! would go away, for I can’t bear him l’ *i ‘ What! and you wouldn’t marry him, Fanny, if he should ask you to 'l’ ‘Me'l No. Never, never!’ ‘ Well, I ’slrose that young scamp Nathan, has something to do with that 1’ ‘Don’t call him a young scamp,l fatlrer.’ ‘Mustn’t chi Oh,I s’poso you think he’ll make me one of the best sonâ€"rn-laws, and wouldn’t be carry- ing you off from the old home as some of these city chaps do. and he’d work the farm asI grew old, and all that!’ ‘ Indeed, indeed ; yes, I know he would!’ eagerly exclaimed Fanny. ‘ Well,’ said Uncle Joshua, dr‘ylv, ‘I don’t intend to let him try that game yet a while. Run and get me a glass of cool waterâ€"that’s a good child. Fanny cast an anxious look to- wards the lounge and left the room. The instant she vanished, Mr. Ja- cobs threw up the curtain gandstep- ped in through the window. ‘ Mr. 'Grey,’ he said in a low ing towards me asI learned them this afternoon, I can no longer stay. I would have loved your daughter, sir, and would hate been glad to have lent my wealth towards cm- bellishing this fine old place, but Miss Fanny has willed it otherwise, and I’ve nothing more to say.’ ‘All right,’ said Uncle Joshu bluntly ; ‘ as for the place, it’s got along so far with my means, and I don’t want any one elsc’s money to keep it up for the rest of my days As for Fanny. she’s a girl of good judgment, you, Isuppose she has reasons for it.’ 'No doubt she has,’ said Mr. Jacobs, very much nottlcd, ‘ and if you lift up the lid of that lounge yonder, Iprcsumc you’ll find about six feet of reasons in therc.’ Uncle Josh smelt :1 ‘mice’ at once, but pretended not to notice Mr. Jacobs’ remark. IIc quietly bid him good bye, hoping his visits had not been so unpleasant this time as not to bear repetition, and as he wished to reach the depot for the evening train, Uncle Joshua stepped to the window and ordered the horses put to, and permitted him to go and pack up. When Fanny rc-cntercd the room her father was lying quietly on the lounge. ‘Bring me apillow, Funny; I believe I’ll take a nap.’ ‘Had’nt you better go into the other room, father; it’s cooler there 9’ ‘ No, . no, child, I’ll stay here I believe, and suppose you sit down and keep the flies otfrnc while I snooze} Poor Fanny! There was no alteration but the perspiration pour- ing from her face in syrrrpathy; for poor Nathan, wlr t, she believed, would melt in that close box. The minutes slipped byâ€"lrcr father still slept, and wrth tours on her face, she again put her lips to the lounge and said, ‘ Can you breathe P’ ‘ What’s that, clnld.’sa:d Uncle Joshua, instantly opening his eyes; did you ask if Icould breathe? I dream you didâ€"it’s dcuced herc~â€"but I can breathe, oh yes !’ The next minute he was snoring again, and Fanny in despair, sat fanning away the flies, not daring to ask Nathan another question, but suddenly she heard lnm say softly ‘ Fanny.’ ‘ Fanny,’ said Uncle Joshua quickly, without opening his eyes, “some one is calling you; run dear, it may be your aunt; and Fanny, kiss me; good night child, it is your bed time and you must go at once. You need not come back.’ hot Fanny felt as though her heart would break, but she did not re- veal the truth of the matter to Uncle Joshua; so trusting lll‘ll . » l Nathan’s excellent constitution would survive his close imprison- ment, she Wcr.t away. lo a few minutes Nathan heard Uncle Joshua snoring again, and he made up his mind there was no use trying to endure this any longer. His clothes were satura- ted with perspiration, his brain was tlrrobbing, a stream bath was noâ€" thing to this horrid incarceration.â€" He Was getting nervous too, the dimensions of his box were so like a rollin! IIc shuddcred, and the perspiration poured faster than over. Suddenly drawing up his» knees and pushing wrtlr the palms of his hands, he tried to lift the lid of the box. I-Ic succeeded in rais-l ing it about an inch. ‘Hallo,’ cried Uncle Joshua, ‘ hallo within there, what’s to pay? Is anybody in a tight box?’ Nathan suppressed a groan. ‘ Hallo, Isziy, are there any spi- rits in this lounge as would like to communicate with me? If so, let ’cnr rap.’ Nathan gave th rec very cm- phatic raps. Tire hope suddenly entered his heart that he could RICHMOND HILL, F RID ‘Oh, Uncle Joshua!’ groancd Nathan in utter despair, ‘don’t fool wilh me ; let me out and forgive me..’ ' ‘ ‘ But I owe you a grudge for try- ing to jilt me off the lounge 3 min- ute ago. BeforeI leave you out, tell me how you got in P’ ‘I came to see Fanny and hid 1from you,’ said the voice of poor Nathan, rendered sepulchcrai in spite of him. ‘ And you and Funny have agreed to give each other up, I and if she cannot like s’nosc.’ " No, sir, we have resolved never to give each other tipâ€"we intend to love on till we die.’ ‘Indecd! \Nell, what if I give you Fanny, will you live with me here, promis: to give up chewing tobacco, work the farm and go to meeting every Sunday 1’ ‘With all my hcart.’ ‘ Upon your horror 7.’ ‘ Yes! Oh! for heaven’s sake, let me out 9’ ‘ Very well. come forth !’ Uncle Joshua lifted up the lounge lid and poor Nathan crawled out, looking more like a parboiled beet than a spruce young farmer beau. Uncle Joshua put his hands on his sides and surveyed him.â€" Shade of Nathan l frighten his tormcntor off. ‘ Are you a rclationl’ Three more distinct raps. ‘ Are you a dead relation 'l’ ' A ghost,’ groanod Nathan, in his most sepulchcral tones. Unclue Joshua chuckled, ‘ I think I knowyour voiCc, Spirit,’ he said ; ‘ it sounds wonderfully like my nephew Nathan’s, who used to hang round here after my Funnyâ€"â€" I haint seen him in some timeâ€"â€" he’s an honest fellow and kept a promise he made me to come here no moreâ€"he’s an honorable chap, down, his scythe, and clapping his mice, ‘1 come to bid you-adieu... and sticks to what he saysâ€"Well, ‘ _ I builds 0” hls knees» 531d: ‘ let iem After knowing Miss Fanny’s feel-,spirit of Nathan, what d’ye want'l’l-lhmk of eating d03'5°“P-’ You’ve had a deuced warm time of it,I reckon, said be; ‘but there’s one consolation, it sweated the tan off, I guess you’ll look all the better for it in the end.’ Fanny and Nathan Were married; and often now, when Uncle Joshua of a winter’s evening, sits surround- cd by his merry grandchildren, every one of whom refutes the old saying, that cousin’s children are always tools, he regales himself with the iristory of the trap he once took on the old box lounge. CHARACTER AND REPU- 'I‘A'I‘ION. I will draw a distinction between character and reputation, which are synonymous. A man’s character is the reality of himself; his repu- tation, the opinion others have formâ€" ed about him; character resides in him, reputation in other people; that is the substance, this is the shadow; they are sometimes greater or less. If a man be able to achieve things beyond his time. his reputation will be different from‘lris character.â€" He who seeks reputation must not be beyond the time he lives in. to know which they wantâ€"charac- ter or reputation. To build a cha- racter is a work of time; as ships are built in one element and used in another, so character is formed in youth and home for afterlife. Re- putation is easrly got; it is gone. rally clrarlatanism, taking many formsâ€" as that of the patriot, a tribe numer‘OUS as mosquitoes, who :like them. lean and hungry, suck all the blood they can, but make none â€"â€"who live on suction. In a man as in a ship,,tlrc material must exist originally; a man naturally mean may be improved, but never will be AY, JULYT13, 1860. It lmatted floor of the salon, or ‘ cool- is important to men beginning lifel 0 OC , us than. Popular Opinion.” . ‘ ~ \ ' THE TURKISH BATH. From the Critic. I Did we owe to Turkey nothing Turkish Bath, the amount of our in- debtedness to ‘ the sick man’ would no by no means inconsidcrablc ; and of these the last is by far the great- est boon of all. What is the Turkish bath! cries the reader ;. his memoryrccalling certain graphic descriptions in the pages of those who have visited the dominions of the Sultanâ€"misty pictures ofdark. hot, steamy cham- bers, filled with all but nude figures (horrible to Lord Haddo), of sham- pooing, languorous lounges or sofas, the lazy pipe, the coflec, all the luxuries of the Oriental human. But what is that to us '1 Shall Shutnbbul come to us, or we go to Shamboul'l When we are in Turkey we do as the turkeys do, as the old lady vcry oppositely observed; but a Turkish bath in London! It is outlandishâ€" again‘st the spirit of the people. It is uni-English, and therefore not to And yet it is a fact that this same Turkish bath is rapidly making its way into the favor and good Opinion of the people of this countryâ€"cer- tainly of the more sensible portion 0! them ; that ' the faculty’ approves of this health-restorer andhealth- proserver as heartily as it is possible for men to approve of that which threatens to take the bread out of their mouths; finally it is true that ATE AND ADVERTISER. but its rhubarb, its carpet, and. the! be thought of. The sensation ofrelief which follows \A/\_,F\/\/\,I\ r_r~_/\/ -- TERMS: $1 50 In Advance. ‘ ' 'WhOIe‘ No. 85. durance; your body is now seasoned, and you walk into a room where the temperature is 170 degrees without feeling in any way oppressed. And now the streams pour out afreshâ€"- “All around is dry ‘; but you are like Gideon’s fleece. ' The heat is great, ibut you do :not care for it. p The seven millions of .poresvar‘e now all free, and are rejoicing in their free- dom. You thought yOurseli a cleanly person, because you have taken a- sponge every. morning all year life, and an occasional warm dip. Clean! why, you were filthy. So, at least the bath-men prove to you presently. For they take you back to the for-; mer room ; they extend you upon a slab; they knead your muscles and your flesh; and then they roll off you such a mass of dead skin, used- up epidermis, that, but for the evi- dence of your senses, you never could have believed had once be- longed to you. Howchr cleanly you may have fancied yourself to be, that is what the Turkish bath will take from you, not only on the first visit, but every week after.-â€"- disencumbrance is amazing. But what follows is the crowning joy of all. The Tritons, having shampooed you, lead you into a cool room; they anoint you with soap and turn upon you a shower of cold water, following it up with a douche. Oh,’ the enjoyment, the delicious en- joyment, of that sensation. There is no pleasure of the senses to compare The reaction calls the with it. Turkish baths already exist in this blood bac" to the Surface' and vour country, have existed for some time, and have thrivcn. What is the Turkish bath i In one new-polished skin glows with health and vitality. You court the cool water and embrace it ; you revel in. sense, it is the laying down of iralf ’1’ 3!” ,cam’Ot have too, "Web or it. ; ' the troubles in existence ; it is a re« the rmons have some d'mc‘fl‘y .1“ generation into a new “feua tho,“ leading you, forth ; and sheeted once ough inspiration and rcinvigoration. It brings ease to the body and calm to the spirit ; it revives the weary ; cheers the sorrowful; pours balm around the pain-raCked limb ; clates and comforts the heaviest lrcart ; gives a man, in a word, a new lease of his youth, with all its abundance of strength, all its sensuous plea- s-rres, al'l'tts golden dreams. This is what the Turkish bathis in one sense. In another, it is a building recently opened in Palace street, Pimhco, where we, and you also, good rea- der, may be treated in the manner whichjwe are about to describe. When-you enter you are request- ed to take off your boots, and are furnished with a pair of slippersâ€"a precaution necessary to keep the ing room,’ perfectly clean. You are conducted to a dressing- room, where you divestyourself of your clothes, and an apron is handed to you, which you straightway gird about your loins; then a sheet, with which you drape yourself ; and straight- way you are condUctcd down stairs to the bath. Your conductors are, like yourself,-dressed in an apron.â€" They are stalwart fellows, and look as if they-never had been dressed in their lives ; for ‘ they are naked and are not ashamed.’ -.TI’hcse lead you into the bath,- which is a sombre cl'ramber, lit withcolored windows, and admittingwhat the French call a noble man. Reputation may be made for a man, character must be made by him, With labor and time, and it cannot be taken away. The the miâ€"jour, it is well ventilated, and the air is quite dry, but the temper- ature is 130 degrees of Fahrenheit. antagonism between the two is not so great as the disproportion.â€"â€"- Thus, a man, if wise, will be con‘ tent to be considered wiser; he is like a shadow three times in size ; like a bank that issues three paper dollars for every one in specie they have; if worth a quarter he likes to be called worth half a million, until his assessor brings him to his senses. He Will disclaim “popu- larity,” but claim the same thing un- der the name of “ influence ;” but it is what God made a man and he makes of himself, which determines the weights never ask a favor of the scales; 3 thou- sand wounds will weigh down five hundred by their natural force.-â€" So he speaks of pruderce.” Pru- dence is coincident with rcctitude, and there have been men against the grain of life all their days, who yet were most prudent men. He substitutes love of approbation for love of truth. Thousands lose their character to save their reputa- howâ€"Selected. his influence ; cc Win you have ca,_supp, asked a you that it is time to go into the hot pedantic gentleman of Aunt Priscilla at a “Door me, no!” she re- “I’m fond _ of r a dinner-table. plied, with a shudder. As you enter you lay aside the sheet, and when you [rave boon seated some seconds every part of your skin begins to cover itself with a profuse prcspiration. At first breathing is a little oppressed, but that wears off rapidly, and in a short time you respire with perfect free- dom. Presently you are aware that you are in a bath of your own mak? ing. In drops, in streams, in rivers, it runs over you; you hair is full of it ; your face is bathed ; your limbs are inundated. The seven millions of pores said to be in the human body are busily engaged in freeing themselves from the bonds ofa long, if unconscious, imprisonment; In fact, you are in the most profuse preSpiration you ever experienced in your life. What was the ten mile walk on the August day to this? What the gallop over the Down; on the spur to lfi‘lre r;‘ or even the training Walk under Heaven knows how many pea-jacket; but this would soak a whole week’s washing of shirts. And so you srt quietly com- muning with yourself on these mat- ters, until one of the bath-men tells room. The hot room! Why, you have been sitting for ._halfâ€"an-hour in more, you again ascend to the ' cool- lrng room,’ Where, lying on a couch, you expose your body to the fresh and cooling air, giving it as much oxygen as you can in exchange for the carbon of which you have been purified. In this stage of the pro- ceedings a good cigar is not to be despised. After this you quit Para- dise ; you resume your clothes, the- consequences and memorials of our degradation, and you walk .forth a regenerated man. THE CURE roa DRUNKENNESS.â€" People imagine that by introducing the light wines of France into this, country we shall put a stop to drunkenness. It is a great mistake. Where you have bad bad cookery and good liquor, depend upon it the liquor will carry the day. And we shall not stop the rage for liquor in this country by making it still betterâ€"by turning the gin into cognac, and by turning the beer into Bordeaux. The cure lies rather in restoring the balance between meat and drink. Put the meat more on a par with the drink, and then see what the result will be. Either teach the poor man to cook, or give him his meat ,Wel cocked. Let the Temperance Leagues and Alliance look to it. They will accom- plish far more good by improving the working man’s edibles than by meddling with his potables; by secondiug that nat~ ural law Which makes a man chiefly inde- pcnlent on his food, rather than by at- tempting to place artificial barriers in the way of getting whatever drink he may re- quire. The best‘cure for the drunkenness of the lower classes is not a MainLiquor Law; but soup and sausages pudding and pies;‘is not to shut the beer shops, but to open the poor man’s kitchen. , THE RULING PASSION.â€"Sydnéy Smith related a pleasant ancedoteéâ€"which represented Peel, when in the Ministery, and on a visit at the Brighton Pavilion, as called out of bed in the tniddle of the night to attend his Majesty in whatâ€"his dinner having disagreed with him in a very alarming mannerâ€"the King supposed it to be his last moments. Peel was much afâ€" fected, and the King. after a few words. which he could scarcely utter, said, “ Go, my dear Peelâ€"God bless you! I shall never see you again ;” and as Peel turned to leave the room, he added faintly, “Who made that dressinggown, my dear Peel?” It sits very badly behind. God bless you, my dearfellow! Never employ that tailor again l” A gentleman stepped into a tavern and saw a filthy drunkard once a respectable man, waiting for his liquor._ He thus ac- costed him:-â€"â€"“ Why do you make your- self the vilest of men ?’ I ain’t the vilest,’ said the drunkard. “You are,’ said the gentleman; L“ see how you lookâ€"drink that glass, and you will be in the gutter.’ “ I deny your pozzition,’ the other; Whoâ€"who was the war-wesst, Satan, or [hie] Eve 2” “Why, Satan,’ said the ‘ “ Well, (hie) well, behold the tempter!’ temprature of 130 degrees, and cats in their places; but: ~I should as soon l now you are to go into the hot room ! Great is the power of human en- pointing to the bar. The barkeeper not nan.â€" Axon» H...” AGRICULTURAL sTAfrisTros . OF CAN, "3 From the Genesee Farmer. - "a The Bureau of Agriculturein Ca.- fnada issued circulars of Agricultural queries to the President's'oftho dif- ferent county societies, andreceiued seventy-two replies from...U,-ppet', Canada and thirty from Lower Gav, rradafl ' H . The wheat crop in Upper Canada last year appears to have shstaincd‘ little damage from the midget or? Weevil. Of, these seventy-two rev ports, forty-two state thatho misr, Chief was donebythis insect-to win,- tcr wheat ;', eighteen, that very slight injury was done ;'eight reprint serious and extensive injuryâ€"pay: from 10 to 25 per cent. ;attd ,three. report a loss of 50 per cent. ~ ' The remedy for .themidge .uni-. versally given is, to sow early kinds of winter wheat very early, and the: Rife spring wheat, either, very early or not till after the 20th May. Thb’ Soulcs, W'hz'tc Flint andBlue Stem, and also the White 'Kentuekmiare‘ mentioned in very many of the re- turns as the earliest and best winter wheat, and the Fife as, the best spring wheat. Good drainage and? ,goOd cultivation are much teatime: mended. Six reports report'serious: injury from frost on the 5th ofJune.. {Q'I‘he county of Carelton gives the highest yield of wheatâ€"~wintec wheat 28% bushels per acre ; .shring. wheot 22% bushels. The total aver- age of Upper Canada is, Winter. wheat 21 bushels per acre; spring wheat 18% bushels. It is said-Ith‘ati this is reliable. If So, it speaks‘Well,‘ for the skill and intelligence of Ca- nadian farmers. It is 16 per cent above the average ofthe last twenty years. Five ’ears ago, there was com: parativc y little spring wheat sown, in Canadaâ€"not one-tenth as much, as winter wheat. Now_ it is esti-, mated that there are twice as many, acres sown with Spring wheat as. with winter wheat. This great change is chiefly owing to the inva- sion of the midge. The total average yield of spring wheat in Lower Canada is 13 bushels per acre. The midgc seems to have done considerable injury. The gen- eral remedy suggested is, to sow . very early or late ; and one writer‘ recommends running a repe steeped: in turpentine over the heads when in blossom. The Black Sea varietyw seems to be most generally sown. The average yield of Barley in Upper Canada is 26% bushelsper acre in LowerCanada 23 bushels.-â€"â€" In the latter Province more atten- tion is paid to this crop than for-~ merly. Rye is grown to a considerable extent in Lower Canada, but the aVerage yield is only 13 bushels per acre. In Uppor Canana fifty of the' return report that there is little or none grown, Tic average yield is ‘ 18 bushels to the aorta. ‘I'n Upper Canada only thirty-seven returns mention Indian Corn, the, average of which is little over 40' bushels per acre. Of Oats, two counties in Upper, Canada report an average yield of 50 bushels per acre. The total average is 34a bushels. In Lower Canada, the average is 22% bushels per acre. Tire Hay crop in Upper Canada last year was very deficient. The reported yield varies from 500 lbs.,. to two tons per acre. Out of the? seventy-two reports, forty-eight use gypsum or plaster as a topodressing‘, and eighteen use barn-yard manure occasionally. Of Turnips in Upper Canada, sixty-nine of the returns mentionw that this crop is grown verv suc- I cossfully, and its cultivation is largely on the increase. Flax and hemp are little grown, but in some sections of Upper Cana- daaits cultivation is receiving some attention. There is a great improvement re- ported in the potato crop. The yield in 185.8 averaged _125 bushels per acre; last yeas it was 176 bushels. The rot prevoils only to a vory limited extent. The Irish-cup is generally recommended as freest from the rotâ€"though one return states it to be the worst. New land and dry situations are more relied upon as preventatives. To KILL VERMIN 0N CATTLE on Fowr.s.â€"â€"A writer in the New Eng- land Farmer says : “take common . lamp oil and rub it in ,well back of the ears and all down the back.â€"-â€" Do this once a week, and the vermin wrll disappear. It is safe. Tobacco will kill lice, but should be used' cautiously. Rub lamp oil on the back of the head, under the wings. and over the posteriors of any fowl once a month, and it will clear Out all lice.” GLASS PANS FOR MILKâ€"An Eng- lish Farmer says, when he first took ‘ to dairying on a large scale, he laid " out $100 in glass pans, because they looked so well in a dairy. On fur- ther acquaintance with, them, he has come to the conclusion that they are the cheapestlthings that a farmer, ‘ liking such allusion to his calling, turned can. useâ€"ethey can be kept clean so " the man out of his house without his dram.’ easrlyp. .