- f, V “wry MW“ . . . . T. V , .. . _,- ._ .x. .,... . ...â€"-â€" .- fourth}. ‘m' ‘i _ 4*.†‘i-ï¬t'.» 15'5". .:. .‘a ' 3'... ~. .5: 'BREEDS OF‘ENGLISH’SHEEP. .â€" At a recent meeting of the Central Farmers’ Club, at London, Mix-Chas. Heivardldelivered an address on the subject of "The Merits ofI’urc-Brpd and Cross-Bred Sheep.’ In this ad- diess . he gave the ‘ established? breeds. \Ve condense for our readers : ' ’ MEET ME THERE. The last rays of the setting sun Were lingering in the West, ’I stood by one whose race was run, And’as soon as she sank to rest, But’e’er the spirit took its flight ‘ From this dark world of care, To realms of everlasting light, She whispered, “ Meet me there I†31“?" AND RICHMOND HILL ADVOCATE AND ADVERTISER. \fx/‘M\a‘\/ V‘v‘x/V ‘V’V‘J‘\/’\_/'\/'N ALEX. SO OTT, Proprietor. vmx Wfo‘ ~\A,»\/\/\w\/\/\.M N~J~WAth “ Let Sound Reason weigh more with us than. Popular Opinion.†, / \fJWV V VxM/ NVV \/\ zvcrx A My/“hflv TERMS: $1 50 In Advance. 1. Soon: Downsâ€"The South‘got’ Sussex Downs, are descended from small, grey, and dark-faced sheep, which were found on the hills and mountainous districts in England.â€" John Ellman was the original im- prover. He was followed and surv passed by Jonas Webb, who has, made the South Down perfect. The peculiarity of this sheep is its super- rior quality of mutton and wool. Average weight, from thirteen to fif- teen months, is 126 pounds; wflght I loved her long, and loved her true, And sad at heart was I, And all were sleeping when they know That sheâ€"yes she, must die I All listened for her parting words, She was so. good and fair, But all the accents that they heard Were, “Meet, oh I meet me there !" I -_, u- Vol. II. Noai’pi‘é. M Whole No. 163%.. Bionivtoiyio HELL, FRIDAY, Nevins ' BER 16,â€" teen. A ’ed “3 and “Stained "3 through 0W5?†wlld’y (Inland. heâ€. the": WCCP' wife.’ he cntreated, SHAKING HANDS. sorrows.’ mg bitterly, inqmred for her ‘ dam. They sat down at the head of the ; mamma.’ The captain, good-heart- grave ; it seemed [.0 them as if they l ed man, p'i'oiiiised to take her to her were holding sweet communion with ‘ mall‘lllla, IfSlle Would be a good child; the loved dust that reposed iliei'ciii,4fl“‘l, SOOUIIHg “(31' kindly, fed he!‘ "and forgive upside dmvn; woli l’ ’ a bar for what passed before.’ ' Laughing heartily at the delight of They consented, and advnncedto- the poor fellow, the happy group! , A5 a mans “defence, the Eng- waids the house, when out salllcd were engaged in conversation when , llSth†use [he ClonChed ï¬sh and Mrs. Thomson, as dirty faced and the door of the apartment was ' “Ollllc dagger "3 “‘9 SPa'llal‘dS and slatternly as ever. thrown ru lely open, and a hang-dog Ilal'ans do- They ‘50“5idel'lhls ‘1 She died as gently as the dew .‘Falls on. the opening flower, ’ And diedras she had lived, as true As ever graced earth’s bower. 1 Name ! l wiped the death-damp off her brow, And parted back her hair, And when I kissed her cold, cold cheek, She murmured,“ Meet me there 3†l Wo_laid her in the silent grave, And sadly left her there, To sleep the long, long sleep of death, Although so good and fair : ‘ And still I travel on and seek A place, where, free from care, I’ll meet my lost one yet againâ€" » I’ll meet. yes, meet her there I H.-._..__.h._ _.A. . .. illiirmliirr. Whyâ€".49": THE TWO iiiiï¬iiiis. Continued from our last. Walter turned away his head, but a deep sob told the agony of his heart. Making an effort to compose himself, he turned to Thomson and saidâ€"â€" "‘I was going to see my father’s grave tVill'you‘ accompany me 1’ ‘I will, my bairn ; I will,’ he said ‘ Oh! how often have I prayed that I once more bcliold you and your dear brother “’illie standing by my side near that grave !’ Slowly, silently, and sadly they walked onwards, the Old man lean- ing on the young man’s to m, till they reached the churchyard. It was lonely and IC vely as ever. The huge elm andycw trees threw out their wide-spreading branches all around, casting a deep and melancholy gloom over the dark-green turf beneath, and all was as still and silent as the dead which reposed in lasting sleep beneath that cold earth. It was iii- :lecd a hallowed place~â€"-a place ~“there a weary pilgrim wou'd long in rest. With throbbing h eartaiid moistened eyes did the pair advance towards the tombthey sought. They were close on it, when, for the first time, they observed a stranger kneel- ing at the head of the grave. They slowly approached until they reach- ed the side of the stranger, who looked up, and, like the dead arisingr from the grave, 'slowly arose, with his hands clasped, and his look and attitude wrapped in amazement. Walter gazed eagerly on the strang- c’r'sface, and staggered back Willi an exclamation of ‘ My God !-â€"â€"can it bel Yes !’ he cried, as opening his arms be rushed to the embrace qf-whis long-lost brother I ‘Willie !’ he said, as he clasped him to hisbosom, ‘ my own-â€"niy dear my long-lost Willie !’ ' Walter lâ€"dearest Walter lâ€"my brother l-â€"-my loved brother! have weme‘t at lastl’ exclaimedi VVil- liam‘.‘ 'i‘Mingled sobs and exclamations of joy told the strong affection of these two long-severed hearts. Claspcd iii each other’s arms, with eyes gushâ€" ingfull of tears, they stood at the hean of that lonely grave, into which twenty years before, they had low- ered the only loving heart that had cherished them. fOli.l Willie, where have you wandered so long from me ?’ subbed Walter; long and wearilv have I )ought you. I have found you at last, and never, never more shall I lose sight of you again.’ ‘ ‘My dear Walter,’ said William, ‘long have I sought after you, and many a sad night nnd day have I spent thinking on you. I mourned yoii often as dead, yet a ray ofliope would now and then come o’er my lieai't,_and a confident certainty of again meetiug you.’ "In our own joy,’ said W'altcr, as be pressed his brother’s hand, ‘ we have forgot our old uncle.’ The old man was on his knees, engaged in deep. fervent, and thankâ€" ful‘prayer; the tears were streaming down his furroived cheeks ; and tho sunbeams, gleaming through the branches of an old elm, shone upon his hoary locks. as if lieavcn were smiling on him. Kindly did the bro- thers raise him ; and as William embraced him, the old man, with tears ofjoy, exclaimed, ‘Now, 0 Lord! my prayers have been heard and accepted: I have seen Thy lov- ing-kindness, and will ever bless Thy Here,’ he continued, as he took the brothers by the handâ€"â€" ‘ here, twenty years ago, we met in grief,-too soon to part in sorrow and bitterness of heart ; here has Provi- deuce ordained that we should meet told a tale of sorrow and of suffe iltjoy, and know that His hand has, raised a cloak which lay in a corner as they related to one another the adventures which had befallen them, since they had lost each other. Walter told of the ago'iiy he had; felt at losing his brotherâ€"of his! meeting with the Highland sergeant. ‘I was fortunate cnough,’ he said, ‘ ‘to attract the attention of one of, the officers who was retiring from? active service. Through his influ- ence I was sent to the military ac- ademy, and such was my progress! that I speedily obtained a cadetsliipl in the East India Company’s. Benarcs, I receiVCd my commission as captain, and liavmg the good fortune to meet my friend, Col- onel Grantly, who had an only, daughter, I gained her affections, and with the approbation of her fa-' thei a day was fixed for our mar- riage; but alas! before that day arrived, the good old colonel died. He left the whole of his fortune to his daughter. I retired from the service, and she accompanied me to London where we were marrich A short time ago we learned that an estate belonging to the colonel lay in this neighborhood ; and liav/ log a letter from a lawyer here, l came down to make inquiry about it. This has led to our most happy meeting.’ ‘It is strange,’ exclaimed \Vil- liam, ‘that I should be here upon the same errand; and, more strange, l with his own hand, aed soon gained the confidence of the little. sufferer. The substance of her sad story was, that they called her Mary Grantly â€"â€"â€"hcr father was an officer, and they had sailed from Calcutta. Her fa- ther mother, and her sister Jane had been with her; a storm had come on,gand the ship was sinking, when they placed her and her nio- tlier in a boat, into which a number of men liarljumped, and had cut the rope which attached it to the ship, so that the boat floated away. She could not tell how many days they drifted on, but she was very hungry and thirsty. Some ofilie men drank salt water, wont mad, and jumped overboard. Latterly, she remember- ed that liei' mother prayed and wept over her. and she fell asleep. She begged to be taken again to her papa and mamma ; and pleased with the promise of seeing them again, she soon recovered her health and spirits During her voyage I was her tutor and playmate, and the little fairy soon gained the hearts of all on heard. On our arrival at London, the captain made several inquiries about her relations, but without suc- cess; ard he therefore placed her under the care of his own Sister, to rear and educate licr. Many a voy- age I made with my kind benefactor and, on my return, found Mary in- creasing in beauty and kindness. that my wife and yours are of the same name. Had your wife a sis- ter 7.’ l ‘Shc had, said Walter; ‘bui, about fourteen years ago, the col- onel accompanied by his Wife and two daughters, sailed from Calcutta for Englandmwhen, nigh the Cape of Good Hope. a storm came on, and the vessel sprang a leak. The leak increased, and the crew got in- to the boats to save themselves. The coloiiel’s wife and youngest daughter were lowered into one (it the boats. Some of the crew sprang into it; and, pushing off from the vessel, refused to allow any more enter the boat. They" had neither oars, provisions, nor sails ; and the vessel was on the point of founder- ing, when another vessel hove Ill sight. She remained close by the sinking vessel. The storm abated, and the crew and passongcrs were saved, but had scarcely left the ship when she sank. From that hour till this, no tidings have ever been heard of the ill-fated boat. Broken- hearted the Colonel returned to India with his surviving daughter ; retired uptlic country, and lived in seclu- sion, occupying his time in the edu- cation of his only remaining child. After his death 1 brought her to Calcutta, where she spent some time time with her friends; and from thence we sailed for London, where I married her.’ ‘ Thank Heaven, the mystery is explained !’ cried \Vii'iam as he started up. “Joy! my dear Walv ier’ double joyâ€"your wife's sister lives! She lives, and is the fond wife of your happy, happy bro- ther !’ ' ‘ Amazemcnt l’ for. ‘ Listen, my dear brother. When I left you, I wandered on to Leilh, where I met \Vlll] a kindâ€"hearted negro, who took me on board of a veosel and fed me. I attracted the notice of the captain, who, finding some resemblence in me to his son, whom he had recently lost, adopted me as his own. With him I sailed to Calcutta. On our return home, and while off the Cape of Good Hope, we encountered a hurricane which compelled us to lie to. The storm passed, and two days after- wards it became calm. On the even- ing of the second day we beheld a boat drifting on the waters towards us. Manning a boat, part of our crew pulled up to her, and found therein the bodies of two men and a female, stiff, cold, and dead. They exclaimed \Val- of the boat. and beneath it found a lovely young fair-liaier girl of about four years of age. T to child was sound asleep. The sailors raised her, and gently bore her to our ship, where she Was placed in the captain’s' own bed. We commited the bodies of the lady and the two men to the deep. Long and soundly did the poor little child sleep ; but its hollow sunken eyes, and pale-worn check a! r- l ing. At length she awoke, and star- Laitcrly, the good old man gave up the command of his vessel to me, and my last voyage was to Calcutta. On my return home, I retired from a seafaring life, well provided for, and married my dear Mary, the sis- ter of your wife. With mingled feelings of wonder, grief, and joy, did \Valier listen to the narrative of his brother. ‘ The hand of Providence is in this assui‘cdly,’ he said.. ‘ She is indeed the sister of my Jane.’ ‘It was not till lately I traced out her connection to Colonel Grantly,’ said William; ‘ but an advertisement in the newspapers calling on his heirs to come forward, chanced to meet the eye of my old friend, who, looking out some articles found upon the person of Mary’s mother, got them identiï¬ed as the property of his wife. This ring, for instance with the family crest, and the word ‘ Appleby,’ beneatli.’ I Walter looked at. the ring. ‘If doubt could exist,’ he joyfully ex- claimed, ‘all would be removed by thisâ€"behold the counterpart of it ;’ and, so saying, he exhibited a ring, identically the same. ‘ Come, deal" brother, conie,~â€"let us restore the sisters to each otlier’s arms, and share. their joy " i ‘ The orphans have clung to the orphans,’ cried old John Thomson, ‘ and the blessing of Heaven has gone with them.’ ‘ ‘ I expected to have seen a menu-l mcnt over my father’s gravc,’ said! \Villiari’i, as he took at parting look at. the Spot. ‘ I sent one, with £20 to defray the expense of putting it up.’ ‘I did the same,’ said Walter. ‘And you are the two Captains Stenliousc, who sent the two menu-l ments and the money I’ cried Thom-l son. ‘ It’s put the hale parish astcer; but the town-clerk and the ï¬scal got the Cash and pocketed it.’ "The fiscal !’ said Walter, with surprise, ' why, he wrote to me to come llCl‘Câ€"â€"l10 is acting for me.’ ‘ And the town-clerk wrote to me, said William. ‘ By all ye hold dear,’ cried Thorn- son in an impressive voice ; ‘ by! your father's memory, I charge ye. have nothing to do with these men l They ruined your poor father, and persecuted him till they broke his heart, and drove him in sorrow to his grave.’ ‘I see through the knavish trick,’ said \Valter indignantly ; ‘they wiil try to juggle us both, and hold us up as iinposters. They, however, will meet With their match I’ ‘Avoid them,’ said John; ‘ I ken a little of the law myself, and they have made me pay dearly fort. Your wives are l'icirsaportioners to the estate of Appleby--so ye have the estate between ye. Get a de- cent lawyer (and they're ill to be had) to carry through your title.’ They left the churchyard, and taking the shortest road to the burg passed by John Thomsons door. ‘ Yo must go in and see the gold no I ‘ Dear me. John Tairison,’ she yel- led, ‘ what do ye mean by bringing twa sic braw gentlemen here 7’ ‘My-dear aunt,’ said IValtcr catchingmer by the hand, ‘ have ye forgotten your poor nephews l’ ‘ The Lord preserve me 1’ shouted Mrs. Thomson, as she almost sunk to the, ground, ‘ Walter and Willie Steii‘fmuse !’ , Ye see they’ve cam’ hame again said her husband triumphantly, ‘ strappin’ braw chiels. They’re baitli captains noo, and lairds o’ Ap- pleby !’ ~ ‘If I’d thocht they were to be that, they micht vliae stoppit a’ they’re days here,’ cried the wife. ‘Butoli, bairns, ifI was the cause 0’ ye gaun awa’, I‘ve had many a sair heart about ye ; and oh, forgi'e- me!’ She wept as she said so; but VVal- tcr, pressing her hand, said- ' All is forgot, all is forgiven! But in the meantime we must leave you. We have another meeting, perhaps a painful although joyous one, to enccunter.’ looking fellow, followed by lwogmore noble, manly, and, as being thief-like scoundrels, walked into more a! hand “the†“’flnleda 3 “mm the middle of the room. _ . .‘VVliicl‘i of you,’ he insolent'lyde- mended, ‘is Captain Stenhouse !’ ‘We are both called Captain Sicnhousc,’ answered Walter, stern- ly' ‘ What do you want?’ ‘ Which of you is the client of the town clerk 1’ said the fellow gi'ufily. ‘ Neither of us,’ was the answer. ‘ Which is the ï¬scal’s client then?’ .said the fellow, getting puzzled. ‘Nciihcr of us,’ was the reply. The fellow scratched his head, and turning to one of his concurreuts, whispered something in his ear, and the concurrent went out. ‘ I should like to know your mean» ing,’ said Walter. ‘I hold a criminal warrant,’ said he sulkily, ‘ against one Captain Stenhouse.’ ‘ Well, you have two of the name here, which of them is it,’ said William. ‘I can’t tell,’ said the follow dog- gedly. As he spoke the fiscal eii- ‘ ‘We will not detain you,’ said tercd the apartment, and at his heels John Thomson, ‘for well I know rushed in the town-clerk. what you now feel. and see us soon.’ I’romismg that they would do so, You will/come ‘ There is some mistake.hcrc I suspect,’ said the fiscal. ‘On your part there IS, Sir,’ said the two brothers hurried homewards Walter sternly; ‘order these dogs to prepare their wives for a meeting, down stairs !’ alike mysteriously tially brought about. What tongue can tell, what pen and providen- dcsciibe, the rapture of tha-“f’meet- with my The fiscal turned to his myrmi- dons, who instantly withdrew. ‘ What right have you to ii'iterfei‘o client ?’ demanded the ing. Language falls short’fof it. town-clerkfiercely. The wild ruptures passed at last, and efï¬cient power. But for friendship, as its most heartfelt expression, the 'worthiest, manliest, and sincerest .sign of feeling, they give the open hand to us.’ Indeed, this English hand-shaking, when immodeiate, as it sometimes is, has a somewhat comical effect. But it has its bright side also; for in this custom-~hearty strong, and sometimes roughâ€"we see expressed the deep, fraternal sympathy ofthis great nation. Bodily union, as far as the junction of the ten fingers can effect it, is a beautiâ€" ful symbol of that of the soul, and almost all nations have adopted two hands claSpcd together as the emb- lem of mutual brotherhood and aid. There is a language, silent indeed, but ever variously expressive in this custom. Think but upon its degrees -â€"â€"thc pressureâ€"the graspâ€"the hands field, twisted within each other, given or shakenâ€"all, from woman’s gentle touch. which seems to linger as a feeling. to man’s ner- vous, strong retention. Mark those who, unacquainted with each other, or possibly estranged, offer the hand as a more outward act of courtesy. How restrained is their action! how motionless, unfceling, insensible! Like oil open water, eneliand rests within another; how readily they depart, each glad to escape from his hypocritical communion! On the contrary, when long-tried friends, who have been separated for years, ‘ It’s false,’ cried the ï¬scal, ‘ lic’s,iigiiiii meet, with what haste and two sisters were sitting side by side, my own clicnt.’ hands clasped in hand, pressed to ‘ Hark ye !’ cried Walter, ‘I will [be hand ; each otlicr’s bosom, gazing with put both of you right. There are moistened eyes on each other ; and two Captains Stenhouse before you, the two brothers’ stood looking on married to two Misses Grantly, them with proud fondness, and felt whom you now see. that the blessing of heaven would are both daughters of the late Colo- yet be knOivn on earth. A slight tap at the door aroused husbands are the two sons of a man feelings. whom your base persecutions bur» The door opened, and our old friend ricd to an earthly grave. ‘ Yes,’ he the black cook, whohad found VVil- added, in a veice like thunder, ‘ we liam at Leith, and who had clung to are the sons of Andrew Stcnhonse him with fond affection ever since. oprplcby. DO you know US DOWl’ them from their heavenly entered the apartiiient,bui drew back when she saw the group. ing to him, William caught him by the arm and saidâ€"â€" ‘ My old, my faithful friend! re- force which made the place shakeâ€"- Hurryâ€" guilt-struck wortliies shrunk back. These ladies nel Grantly of Appleby, and their ‘ Quaking in every limb, the two ‘ Begone !’ thundered Walter, as he struck his foot on the floor with a jOICC‘W'ltII me, for I have found my fbcgonc! ye worthless hounds. Be- almost twisted off his shoulders. ‘Elil no! wot, that tall gciiclum you leely breder you was los l’ he cried. ‘ It is indeed my brother Walter,’ answered \Villiam. ‘ IIoo! hoe! liaâ€"haâ€"lia!’ shriek- ied Cookie, as be bounded in the air in a transport of joy. ‘Brodcr found at last! Yell, lieli, lieh; al- ways link so~â€"always say so. Nig- ger bcry good for guess; dis om de happiness, ol‘. Lor! ha, ha, ha I’ Yelling, laughing. and slapping his thighs, he span about the room like a black teetotum. At length hisjoy subsided, and, fairly exhausted, he leaned against the wall,liolding beth his sides, and giving an occasional. quiver with one of his legs, as the tears rolled down his cheeks, and he ever and anon ejaculatedâ€" ‘Oh dear; massa lccly brudcr found !’ ‘ If you are so glad that your masal ter’s brother is found, will you not be equally delighted to learn that I have found my sister,’ said Mary. Cookie opened his mouth with amazement. ‘ Yes,’ continued Mary-,. a she took her sister by the hand 3 ‘you now see before you my sister, whom I, thought was drowned when you saved my life on the wide ocean.’ Cookie staggered back. ‘Eh'l wurral oh? you leclv sister that was drown in ship come for live again 1’ lie gasped, as he pointed' with his forefinger at Jane. ' She escaped sliipwreck,’ said Mary. ‘and she now stands before you !’ ‘ lil yearn dat ! yearn dat !’ yell- ed blackic in a wilder transport of joy than before. Again the par- oxrysm of joy seized him, but even wilder than before. ‘ Sister found! broder found! all found togidcr l’ he shouted, as he .ldear, long-lamented brother at last! gone, before 1 trundle you neck and Cookie eyed Walter Willi a series heels down the Slall‘S-’ [of rapid movements of his eyes and vanCCd rapidly lowul‘ds llwma 311d! 'mouth and head, til the latter was they roslied out at the door, but He ad coming violently in collision at the landing-place, they rolled headlong together down the steps and scram. bled offp a it it a Our heroes and their loving wives were soon placed in possession of their estates. If their past lives had been clouded with grief, their future promised unalloyed joy and sunâ€" shine. Happyy in each other’s so- ciety, they spread that happiness all around them. As for honest John Thomsiin, he superintended the erection of a most magnificent tomb over the grave of his brother, and was appointed fac- tor ove'r the Appleby estates, where his rule was so kind and gentle that no more farmers or tenants were ever injured thereon. His wife shared in his honors, and became totally reformedâ€"cleanly in her dress and mild in her manners. The fiscal and the towmclerk sunk into merited contempt,and had sit recourse to the bottle, which do. circle the actions proper to the dress- graded them beneath notice. The coed-hearted cook occasion- ally accompanied tl‘ic families tOitacks the respect due to the society London, to see their old friend the of others, whoever they may be, and ship captain, who, with his sister, latterly came to live with their adopted children; and cookie may often yet be seen in front of the lawn at Appleby, playing a game at temps With a group of fair-haired lovely boys and girlsâ€"the progeny of THE TWO CAPTAINS. ( Concluded. J i'fw-aâ€"mm DRAWiNGr-FCan you draw, young man ?’ inquired Quilp of an applicant for private tutorship. “ Certainly,’ rop'iod the candidate. †At ten years of age I could draw cider; at twelve, a picture; at: fifteen,- aii handcart loaded with cab- bages; at sixteen, an inference; at twenty, a bill of exchange. If I were an actor, I believe Icould draw the largest kind of a house, but, being a teacher, niii content to draw a salary,’ and the larger the better.’ “ You’ll do I†said Quilp. danced ab! ui- Pausing on a sud- den, l‘ie clapped his hands on his wooly CI‘OWD, 'a‘ndexclaimed, ‘ Nig- ger go mad Wid joy! him head turn When you fall into a man’s conversation, the‘ lwarmth of feeling do they not grasp ‘l' I would caution you, as students, ldiseascs, and am satisfied that smok- jscratching, pinchinrr ' but should never stretch them apart. ï¬rst thing’ you should consider is. whether he hasa greater inclination to hear you,“ that you should hear him. ' l how ‘SllOt‘t, but hearty is their salutation, " Well met I" They seem rivited together as the links of a chain, true and inseparable, with hearts for any fate. And when we bid ‘ Farewell,’ does not our hand rest folded within anotlicr’s, motion- less yet thrilling with gentlest touch? for sorrowed affliction has soft, reâ€" straining feclings, that lead us to yield tiic hand so often clasped in tenderness at the moment of separ- anonâ€"Selected. EFFECT OF TOBACCO. Dr. Solly, an eminent English physiologist, and the author of an excellent work upon the brain, says at the close of one of his lectures, from excess in the use of tobacco and smoking, and I would advise you to disabuse your patients’ minds of the idea that it is harmless. I have had large experience of brain iiig is a most noxious habit. I know of no cause or agent that tends so much to bring on functional disease. and through this, in the end, to lead to organic diseases of the brain, as excessive use of tobacco.’ No man in Great Britain is so competent to speak on this subject. as Dr. Solly, and it is strange that so many young men at the present day should iii- dulge in‘ this pernicious habit of smoking tobacco. COMPANY MANNERS. A WELL bred man has always the same manners at home and in socie- ty, and what is bad in the former is only worse in the latter. It can , never be pardonablc to swagger and lounge, nor to carry into the family Eng-room. Even where familiarity has nothing shocking in itself, it at- presents the danger of a further breach of it. From familiarity to indecency is but one step. Thus, not a part of the dress, not a shoe- string cven, should be arranged in the presence of ladies. The Hindoos remarkable for the delicacy of their manners, would not allow kissing, g, or lying down, to be represented on the stage, and at least the last three should never be permitted in a mixed society of men and women. There are atti‘ tudes, too, which are a transdion from case to fan'iiliarity. and should never be indulged. A man may cross his legs in the present day, To wipe the forehead, gape, yawn, and so forth, are only a shade less of fleece, 6 pounds. duce one-third twins. They are best adapted to elevated situations, and bare pasturagc. bility and fancy farmers. thcy‘arerc- garded as the elite of sheep. 2. HAMPsuinn DOWNSâ€"This Va ing with the century. They present as great a uniformity in wool, color. and general appearance as their smaller, but handsome cousins, the South Downs. They have risen in favor rapidly. They are very hardy. of good constitution, and good wool bearers, the average fleece being 6 to 7 pounds ; of early maturity, and have plenty of lean as wc' as fat meat, and will graze to aiinost any weight you may choose to make them. The ewes are good breeders and sucklers. 3. Lnicnsrnns~â€"-'I‘liese originated with Mr. Bake-well. To this breed, all other longâ€"wooled sheep are iii- debtcd for their improved shape and greater disposition to fatten. Their chiefcharacteristics are great apti-» tudc to fatten with comparatively small consumptionof food, and early maturity. Fleece, 7 pounds; car- cass, at fourteen or fifteen months, 140 pounds. They are not very good breeders, and it is a rare thing to have more lambs than chS. ’ 4. Corswonns.â€"Jl‘iiis is one ofthc oldest of the established breeds.â€" aiiiirials, with a thick, heavy fleece, well adapted to the bleak, unenclos- ed Cotswold hills. They are now very hardy, and will thrive in almost any situatiOn, and produce a great. early age. They sometimes reach 86 pounds to a quarter. The aver.» age weight of an ordinary flock uliet. fit to butcher, at fourteen or fifteen months old, is about 180 pounds, and the weight of the whole flock would be about 7% pounds each. Many ofthcse sheep are now being exported to Australia to pron obnoxious than the American habit of expecteration.â€"â€"T/ze habits cf Good Society. l doce mutton for the miners. 5. I.iNC()i.NSiiiiins.â€"«As the \Ves- tern part of Great Britain is famous for its Cotswolls, so is the North- eastern esteemed for its heavy-weelâ€" ed and large framed Lincoln,to which district they especially belong, and where for many years they had their own. They, like Gotswolds, have been improved by an admix- ture of Leicester blood. They pre- sent improved Lincoln sheep, par- takes largely of the peculiarities of the Cotswold and Leicester, having the expansive frame and nobility of appearance of the one, with the quality of flesh, compactness of form, beauty of countenance, and propensity to fatten, of the other; but they far exceed either, in weight of fleece. Three year elds some- times weigh 965; pounds to the quar‘ tor, and yearlings 71 pounds. The weight of wool ofan entire flock under fair average management, is about 8:} pounds. The Lincoln breeders consider the†mutton excel- lent, having less at, and a greater proportion offiiie grained, lean flesh, than the Leicester. The ewes are good breeders, but like the Cots- wolds and Leiccslei's, are not good sucklers. 6. Siiiiorsninns. -â€"Tliese are crosses. Their merits consist in their superiority over any other breed in their own country. They pesscss hardiness of constitution,exs ccllent quality of mutton, and are proliï¬c breeders, but they are not equal to other breeds. _ 7. Oxsonnsi-iinn D0wxs.â€"â€"This breed ofsl'ieep was produced twenty- seven years ago, by crossing the Hampshire, and in seine instances South Down ewes with Cotswold rams, and thcngputting them toge-a ther. They drop their la . be in Feb ruary, and thirteen or fourteen months old they are ready for man. ket, weighing on an average 140; pounds each, with a fleece varying from"?f to 10 pounds. The ewes. are good mothers, and produce It great proportion of twins. We might add here, as those last breeds are crosses, thatl‘dr. Howard stated, as the conclusion of his expe. rience, that from a judicious pairing of cross-bred animals, it is practi. cable to establish a new breed alto~ gether, and for some locations, bet: ter fitted than most of the existing breeds. ~ ~ The ewes are! excellent breeders,and generally pro-' Among the no-v' luablc sheep has been established from various crosses, and commence; They were originally heavy, course 1 amount of wool and mutton at an