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. - . ,. .. . _ r v -' I . _. . -. ...._ ‘ --»~> . ~ -' . v , c :- ' r- _ , > v - - . . . . .. . ~ ‘ ' -., is: v I a 15., r-_ j.- l ,. . ____‘~..â€"â€"-â€"~â€"-â€" .1..‘ filming. . -‘___._.____.L.__..._+..â€".- ..__.. - -..k._ ./_-. . mediate agency of lawyers, and stewards, and bailiffs, is no light matter to the owner, whatever we, who have neither lands, nor houses, nor fat becves, and live from hand. toâ€"mouth by hard-brain work, may think upon the subject. My Lord Duke disappears into his sanctum, like meaner men, every" morning after breakfast, when you think that he may be playing billiards,.or shooting peasants, or riding to thc hounds. He is as much cucum- beredwith. his riches, as we are with our poverty. Of both lots, "â€""m [For the York Herr/1:1. {rt-ii: nicn- MAN’S sounoouv. BY J. DYER. T’was autumu’s fair eve, and the rich man mused, As he sat in his mansion so fair; I’ride rose in his heart, as his treasures he viewed, For his hopes were all ccnter’d there. HMOND HILL ADVOCATE AND ._ A_,' \4‘VV v- V» \/ \/~\.,- .- \Jx "v“\.4’v\_/ \ [y \/ ‘_/ V _/- x, \Jâ€"- \J \/’\,’ ‘\,' \J‘JW \/\/ OTT, Proprietor. AURORA AND RIC ' \./\./‘ \x-v >\.4 ADVERTISER. V W“ V\ ,V- \N‘ ALEX. SC _'\/~\./\_.â€"\_/V \l“~/'\/ ._. r ./ \/ \.,/ ~.N\./\,v~_/\J M NM IV~\/W./-\_/ J‘V/ 2/ -\/' W"\, “ Lot Sound Reason weigh more with us than Popular Opinion.” «A, ~M/vxrx/ \xâ€"v >\_.-7\r\.\~\ a. ,\V,\ ,~_ l‘._/xl‘\."~. «V He said in his heart, I’ve no room to lay by TERMS ‘1 $1 50‘ In Advance. "All my goods. for I’ve money in store ; T "F i A " If.“ “; Mi" â€" "' “ ”'" Fun 'F'L’fl‘: ‘ " i‘ m m 7“ 'f‘ _ *::â€"“““ _ :‘ _ _. hard work is the condition. TWO”:- I’ pull down my barns, and new ones supply. ‘ 01s 1‘ 0. ago L, E‘ "‘0 %19 l VVIIOIO OVCI‘,V'it‘ is no small thing to beat ‘l8- d make all my treasures secure. , . g _ _ W V V , h V, , H“ U , h r I y I _ I _ ~ I gislator,whcther by birthright Ol‘ M election. ' Our laws are made, and r-bur'pu'blic service is presided. over, by men of large estate, whether for, the national good I know not," but” assuredly for their own. And, hin-‘I deed, when 1 think of the immense _ My’riches increase, there’s none can deny l have laid up for many long years I will now take my ease, and danger defy, And dismiss all my needless fears. Lammerdyke, throwing down his from him; he is so agreeable, sol particular spots. and a confused land the soft. appealing look touched broom, rushed up, and catching Fra- intelligentâ€"'11 fact,l cannot praise“ scramble ensued, amongst the ter- her with mingled feelings ofgpity scr by both hands, exclaimcdâ€" him too much.’ ' i rified multitude, most of whom , and wonder. A strange spell rivet- ‘ That‘s scicncelâ€"Id give the ‘lnstead of solving my cnigma,lcscaped with a severe drenching. ed her eyes on the portrait; and a best score 0’ sheep that I possess if you have rendered it doubly intri-lThe \icak were trampled down by secret whispering came over} her lcould play a shot like that!‘ caie,’ said Lady Emily, smilingâ€" the strong, and sliricks of terror, [From the Cornbill Magazine. W 0 It K . _ We are, somehow or other, all of- find “all will be well, long life I shall see, ., . , us waxmg proud, and getting above For are not those riches my own ; i have honors and wealth cunfered upon me, ' And none dare intrude there upon. Fraser smiled, and returned the friendly pressure ofiiis acquaintance, ' you have quite interested me in fa- vor of this young woodman. By- mingled with bitter exccrations, were heard from the several crowds soul, that her own fate was linked with that portrait. Whilst gazing our work ; and what is to become of generations beyond us, if we go on amount of harm that might be'donc 7 by the thousand powerful noblcmen earnestly on it, a small spring‘at the and genuemcn whom our um, I'll fill up my days with mirth and with song. And richly dressed banquets prepare ; The Nobles and Lo ds to my table will come, gmdance m the Shot' That they all of my dainti‘es might share. ,Ho thought not of God, the giver of all. No thanks from his heart did ascend; Hp hooded not warnings, that so often had called To remind him that life has an end Thorich man must die, the sentence is past, He saw no God nigh in that hour; The day of repentance forever is past, No mortal to save him had povver. "And oh what a change in the space of a night, Which has shrouded his prospects in gloom ; Hie gold could not save him, are morning light Death’s message had entered his room. It: vain Was it then to think of his gold, It Could not atone for the past ; no boarded up riches, neglected his soul, V And his hopes were all withered at last Earth's treasures are worthless, compared with the soul, Or like bubbles that float on the wave ; Eternity only to man can unfold, What it is to be lost‘or unsaved. Then let us secure the true iiches of heaven, Those are treasures that never decay ; And now may we seek, while health is given, For the riches that ne’er pass away, Maple Village, Dec. 18, 1860 eâ€"â€"_.___-â€" Titanium ' THE CURLING MATCH. CHAPTER I. J A SCOTTISH BORDER TALE. ‘ Hurrah! shake his hand! shake his hand! wcel playch Oh, man that’s bonny !’ At-length it came to the marquis‘s turn to play, and, encumbered with this heavy fur robes, he lazily stOoped and grasped the golden-mounted ebony handle of one of the most complete master-pieces of curling- Itone manufacturc that ever graced the hand of an ice player. '30 cautious, my Lord,’ whisperâ€" ed a friendly voice in his car; ‘ be cautious ; look at your left side. The man who plays after you is an accomplished curler. l’luy cautions -â€"-slowâ€"-lie a guard, and baffle him.’ The marquis looked up with sur- prise at his admonisher, who was an elderly-looking man; then glancing tolliir left, his eye caught that of Fraser. the forrcstcr. Had an airow struck him the marquis could not have started more vehemently. Ilc sprang to his feet, and the two stood gazing in each other’s eyes, as if they could have pierced the secrets of each other's hearts. The mar- quis's icok was one of mingled am- azement, anxiety, and terror, while that of‘Fraser was calm, noble, but had. ‘ My lord, it’s time to play!’ eiied his attendant. 3’ ‘Oh, yes; I forgotâ€"l beg your ’pardon,’ he said, grimly smiling, as his voice quivcred. ‘ You play after me, sir i' addressing Fraser. A cold haughty bend of the head was the only answer. ‘ Lie a guard, my lordâ€"play slightlyâ€"just throw an inch or two beyond the hog-sea 'e and block the 'rink,’ whispered his admonitor. He played in a most flurrin and agita- ted manner, and his curling-stone had scarcely received impetus enough to carry it two inches be- yondthc hog score. Fraser now stepped forward, and casting a rapid glance along the rink. marked the various positions of his friends, then gracefully bending, laid hold of the handle of his curling-stone. There was no energy, no stress in the movement ; it scmedlike magic, for, without any visible force given to it, the stone glided silently over the smooth ice, pasted the guard of the marquis by a hairbreadih, without touching or moving it, sailed on gent- ly, struck the stone of his opponent to the side, glided from that to ano- ther. flung it aside, then forcibly striking two stones belonging to the friendly side, drove them up, folâ€" lowing hard, and all three became concentrated close to the stone of Lammcrdyke, which lay full in the centre of the tee. A wild uproari- ous shout of applause burst simul- taneously from friend and foc 5 and as he answeredâ€" ‘ There is as much chance as good I am glad, however, that it has pleasud.’ \Vitli mingled feelings of rage and jealousy, the marquis saw the scien- tific playing of the young forester, and heard the loud applause which followed. Turning aside, he walked into one of the i‘narquccs at the river side, and throwing himself into an easy-chair placcd in front of an cle- gant brass stove, called for his valet. ‘ Mnflattc, give me some wine,’ he said, impcriously. The valet poured out some Chan.- pagnc, which his lordship drank ra- pid!y, and, after handing back the glass, inquired, ‘ Mafluttc, can you tell me who that young peasant is P‘ ‘ Vicli, mi lot" l’ ‘ That young follow with the dark- blue dress, and broad black belt around his w:rist~-:lmrc,’ pointing him out. ‘ Ah! dat is do play scicniifique. llc play at‘ dut nasty Cold ice wid do big stone dc same, bc gar, as if he play at von billiard-table or de bagu- tclle. llc make do stone cushion and strike as if he play at brilliant game ;’ and Mallattc wculd have run on, but the marquis fiercely interrupch him. ‘I am not speaking about the fcllow’s playingâ€"I am asking his name.’ ‘Namc? Ah, my lor', I shall make do inquiry,’ and the vach bowâ€" ed and withdrew. As the valet left the marquee, Lady Emily entered, and eagerly mqutredâ€"-â€" ‘ Cousm, who is that young gentle- man whom they are praising so much ? His face is perfectly fami- liar to me, and yet I cannot tell where I have seen him before.’ ‘Rcally, cousin Emily,l would require a good memory to tell the name. of every peasant you may have met. If you mean the fellow in the blue dress, I have sent Ma- finite to inquire his name; he will tell it you when he returns. Mean- while, I most out to this plague game againâ€"I wish it had never taken place.’ So saying, he arose and hurriedly left the tent. ‘ Ali! cousin.’ thought Lady Emily, after he retiredâ€"J so you are jealous of the praises the young man is obtaining, while you are pas- sed by unheedcd. \thrc can I have seen that youth before? i am positive he is not what he seemsâ€" hc is evidently acting a constrained part. Ah, good Mr. Melville 1’ she exclaimed, as the old factor entered the tentâ€"‘ welcome ! right welcome! You have just come in time to solve an enigma for me.’ ‘l shall be most happy to do so, Lady Emily, if it lies within my power.’ ‘lmcrcly wish to know some- thing about that young man whom they are praising so muchâ€"that graccfnldooking person in the blue drcssl’ ‘Oh! you mean my young pro- tege. Mr. Fraser 3' said the factor. ‘ Ah, well! who and what is he? demanded her ladyship, somewhat impatiently. ‘ His name is William Fraser, and he is simply a forester on this estate. If alight else you would know, he is a most accomplished gentleman. and an unrivalled scholar,’ said the fac- tor. ‘ My good Mr. Melville, the two latter parts of your statement I can, readily perceive and admit. As to the two former, I am somewhat dubious,’ said her ladyship, as she shook her head. ‘I have told you all I know, so please your ladyship. A few days after my late lord, your uncle, died, this young man waited upon me. He told me, with a smile, that ho had heard that the forestership on the estate was vacant, and that he would esteem it a particular favor ifl could get him the situation. I know not how it was, the appearâ€" ance of the youth recalled to my memory scenes of long by-gone happy days, so I just gave him the situation. I often call at his little cottage by the forest-side, and amuse myself with him at a game of chess or whist, or whatever may turn up, the-bye, have you observed to-day how be shunned every other of re- ’frcslimcnt from our servants, and when even pressed, he turned so haughtin away?’ ' l have observed that, Lad Emily but his quiet, unobtrusive manners cannot hear the iinpcrtinent scrutiny of vulgar eyes. i wished to call him asidc in private to take some refreshment ’ ‘ And you have had none yourself Mr. Melville. Away~â€"bring your young friend here. The marquee, and all that is in it, you may freely com in a nd .’ ‘ Your ladyship honors me too much,’ said the old man, as he bowed and hurried away. Eagerly did Lady Emily watch this movements; she saw him adâ€" dressing Fraser, who seemed sur- pri:edâ€"â€"-iiay, apparently offended. The old factor appeared to be coax? ing him ; at length Fraser bowed, took the factor’s arm, and advanced towards the marquee. Deep, dccp, was the blush on Lady Fmily’s check as they entered her presence. The calm, self-possessed, elegant bow of the young forester=â€"â€"his distant, po- lite, yet sadened look, as his eye met her’s, threw her almost off her guard. A burning, clicking sensaâ€" tion arose in her throat ; her heart heat more rapidly as the factor iii- troduced his young friend, and her pulse wont faster. A mist seemed gathering before her ocycs, and a faintncss came over her which she strove to shake off. ‘ Mi‘. Frasei',’ she said, addressâ€" jing the young man; ‘I am sorry that i should disturb you at your pastime; but Mr. Melville, your friend, as well as myself, were ob- serving that you had taken no rc- freshment from the servants to-day, so-soâ€"â€"’ She paused, and the blush upon her chock became deeper. ‘ So,’ added Mr. Melville, ‘Lady Emily desired the to call you here to take some little refreshment. after your hard day’s work. See, here is some wiuc.’ The young man raised the glass, and in a deep, sad. yet. musical tone snidâ€"‘ Lady Emily, believe me i feel highly flattered and honored with this mark of your condcsccnsion. May every blessing that your rank, beauty, and accomplishments entitle [you to, attend you throughout life.’ llc quaflcd off the wine, replaced the glass, bowed lowly, and retired. Lady Emily gazed after him and sighed; but, turning to Mr. Melville, she said, ‘I should wish much to see the finish of this strange curling- match, as you call it.’ Taking the factor by the arm. she walked on the ice to the side of the rink at which the marquis was play- in:. Lady Emily’s eyes wer fixed earnestly on the young woodman, who now and then cast many an uneasy glance towards the high grounds which surroundcd the upper part of the water. Ti ick, dark, heavy clouds were gathering rapidly on the summits of the hills, and wreaths of mist came rolling down theirsidcs. A crash of thunder was followed by a succession of explo- sions, louder than the firing of a whole park of artillery; the firm ice heaved up. and cracked into inâ€" numcrablc fragments, and the water mingled with the broken masses, came rushing down in a dreadful torrent, sweeping all before it. ‘ Fly, flyâ€"save yourselves !’ shouted the woodman, as, turning to Lady Emily, he caught her up in,his arms. ‘ This is no place for you to trisk your life in.’ So saying, he 'borc her rapidly to the banks of the river. Mr. Melville followed close at their silo, and all three reached the shore in safety. ‘ Thank God. you are safe l’ said the young man, as he p'aced his fair _ burden on the solid ground. They turned and looked toward the river, but a scene of horror met their eyes. The ice, which but a few moments before had borne multitudes ofjoy- ous players, whose shouts of glee had filled the air, was rolling past, a confused chaos, and the dark river had swallowed up almost all who were sporting so recently on 'its frozen bosom. A watersth had burst amongst ttic hills and broken. up the ice, carrying away all in horrid turmoil. Fortunately, the as they struggled to gain the shore. ‘ The marquis, the marquis !’ cried Lady Emily in agony; ‘whcrc is he l’ ' He had been standing rear WliCl‘C‘ there was a deep dangerous peol, formed by an eddy of the river, and when the ice broke up, he instanily sank, while the Weight of his fui'i'ed the water, kept him down. ‘l'Vill no one try to saw: him i’ shc shrickcd, as she clasped her hands together. ‘I will, or perish in the attempt,’ said the young woodman, as ho towards the river. From one mass of ice he flew to another, till he reached the spot whom the marquis had disappeared, then plunging into the dark deep water, vanished from the view. \Vith a piercing shriek, Lady Emily beheld hivn sink into the torrent, as, covering her face with her hands, she sank on the ground, cxclaiming, in the very in- tensity of agony, ‘Hc is lost--â€"hc is lost !’ ‘No, dear lady, no! cried Mr. Melville. ‘Sce, he has saved the marquis !’ And, as he spoke, the woodman appeared, bearing on one arm the senseless form of the marquis, and buffciting his way through the flood wi.h tho other. Rushing to the side of the river, Mr. Melville and several of the larqueys grasped the hand of the young man, and, drag- ging him on shore, raised the mar- quis and carried him into the tent. The woodman followed, and earnest- ly directed the Operations for recal- ling him to life. The meanspscd were successful. Heaving a deep sigh, the marquis slowly ope‘ne’d his eyes, and his first look was riveted on the countenance of the young man who had saved him. With a sudden start he strove to rise, as he glared wildly on his delivercr. ‘ Where am I l’ he fcebly uttered. ‘ Your lOl'ClSlLlp is in safety,’ said Mr. Melville. advancing ; ‘ this young man has most heroically saved you.’ Again the look of the marquis was heat on him, but the Woodman, turnâ€" ing on his heel, addressed Mr. Mel- ville, sayingâ€"‘ You had better ‘at- {tend to him.’ And bowing to Lady Emily, left the place. CHAPTER ll. EARLY the following morning Lady Emily was on foot, and slowly walking along a footpath leading to the forrcst. Turning into an avenue lined with beech-trees, the branches of which hung drooping with the weight of the snowâ€"wreaths which covered them, she approached to- wards a romanticâ€"looking gothic cot- tage in front of which was a small garden, so carcfuliy sheltered that the winter-frost seemed to have had but little effect on the shrubs therein. The smooth-cut grass was fresh and green, and the various evergreens, planted in beautiful order,slionc with all the brightness ofsummcr. Whilc standing in front of the cottage, the door opened, and an elderly female coming forth, politely invited her lailyship to enter. ‘To whom does this cottage belongl’ she inquired. ‘To the head forester; but he is fiom home this morning,’ was the answer. The gate was opened, and Lady Eriiilyaknowing not whyâ€"impres- scd with a strong desire to view the interior, entered, and was shown into a small but elegantly-fitted up library filled witlfiancient and modern classical works. Several musical instruments were lying on one of the tables, and on another a land~ scape half-finished, with paints and brushes still wet, as ifthey had been but recently used. On this table there was a small locket, which curi- osity prompted her ‘to take up. A strange thrill ran throughout her veins, and a throbbing arose in her heart, as she touched a spring in the locket, and beheld Within, the por- trait ofa young and beautiful female. There was an expression of melanu lcholy in the face which rendered the beauty of the features doubly attractive. Long and earnestly did Lady Emily gaze on that sweet countenance ; the large darkiblue or get a tune on the flute or gurtup river was not very deep, save at eyes seemed almost imbued with life, garmcts, as they got saturated with? sprang from her side, and rushed: :back caught her attention, and open< Eing it, she observed a braid ofbcau- tiful dark-brown hair. and under- neath, the tvords~â€"-" My Mother !” Tears started to her ladyship’s eyes as she rccloscd tlie'lockct, and placed jit again ()lizlllc table. ‘l hopc,’ she said, hurriedly garb 1dressing the elderly housekeeper; “I hope that your master is nothing the worse of his adventure yester- day 'l’ ‘Oh dear, no, ma’aml’ was the answer. ‘ lic came in very much drenched, but there is nothing wrong with him.’ ' ‘ i am glad to hear it,’ she rejoined ‘ He seems to have an excellent taste in the selection and arrangement of his hooks,‘ she continued, as she looked at the library. ‘ Yes, ma’am,’: answered; the ‘housckecpcr ; ‘ he lspends all his leisure time in rcading, painting, or with his music. Sometimes old Mr. Melville calls, and then they take a game at chess.’ ‘ Has he no friends or relations here?’ ‘None whatever, lives quitc retired.’ Fondly would Lady Emily have made further inquiry at the old dame as to her master’s previous history, buta sense of the impropriety of touching on such a subject caused her to refrain; and thanking the forester's housekeeper for liar atten- tion, she offered her some money, which the old dame respectfully rc- jected. Lady Emily then left the cottage, filled with a strange and confused current of thoughts. It Was evident that the young man was of education and high standing; but why should he scclude himself, and fill a mental occupatioo'l Could misfortune or aught else have re- duced him in the world it Why, above all, she repeatedly asked her- self, did she feel so strangely attract- ed towards him, and so deeply in- terested in him 'l Shc sighed asjshe found that she could not answer. While Lady Emily was thus en- gaged. a different scene was acting at Ballaroch Castle. The marquis had recovered from the effects of his previous day’s submersion; but the thoughts of being indebted for his life to a man who treated him with open contempt could not be brookcd. ma’am ; he gorgeous apartment in the castle, when Mr. Melville entered. Mo give us more Young men in these timesthink that l , _ , lficts in natural history He was reclining on a setiec, in a' at this rate, it‘is in'ippossible to con- jecture. What is most wanted is a strong ebb-tide to send us back again to the status of our grandsires,and to lowly thoughts.â€" they have ‘ a soul beyond the shop;’ and old men,l am afraid, are too prone to encourage the mischcvious idea. and to turn their sons, who might be good tradesmen, into indif- fcrcnt members of some ‘gcntlc- manly profession.’ But the gentle- manly professions are now becom- ing so crowed and overstocked, and the diffhmlty of earning bare sub- sistence in them so, increasingly great, that men of family} and ficdu- cation are beginning to think witc- ther they may not advantageously pick up for their son’s the grocer's apron which young Figs has scorn- fully thrown aside, or the yard measure which Bombazinc junior has broken across his knee. 1 know some who, vainly looking for ‘ gentlcinanly ’ employment for their children, and scorning meanet‘ but honorable workâ€"which would have profitably occupied their time and elevated their character, as a sense of honest work and manly inde- pendence ever must elevate have suffered them to hang about billiard rooms and stablcayards, until the young ‘ gentlemen ’ have dcvelepcd into sortiething not much better than blacklcgs and sharpers. l’aterfamilias! paterfamiliasl think of this before ’tis too late. When you and l were little boys, our mo- itâ€" thcrs were not too learned to recite I to us the verses of good Doctor ‘Watts. They were of a good homely, lasting quality, like our puerile corduroys ;V and as Christian Years and Pi‘ouerbial 'Philosophies- were not in those days, we were content with both the ’pOetry and the morality of the doctor’s lyrics. Neither you nor [can remember the best passages in Tcnnyson’s charming Idylls, deliglitedly as we read them last year ; but our mem- ory still clings, with grateful and affectionate tciiacity,to the doctrine- freighted numbers which we lispcd on the maternal knee. Many were the impressive truths which we. learnt in those daysâ€"truths often rendered doubly imposing to our dawning intelligence by the striking (from bears and tigers down to busy bees) wl‘icrewiih the poetical divine was wont to illustrate his musical pre- tioning the factor to take a chair,.cep,s; but “one more firmly im, [he mal’qus abruptly adfll'cssed him- planted in our minds than the fact, ‘ It was rather an unfortunate oc- that currence yesterday 1’ ' It was ; but I am glad to learn] that, with the exception of the; drenching and fright, every party has escaped.’ ‘ Who saved my life 7’ demanded the marquis in a haughty tone. ‘One of your lordship’s servants â€"-thc new forcster.’ ‘ What? the selfâ€"conceited, inso- lcnt fellow who played at the same rink with me yesterday !’ ‘ Your lordship must be labozing under some mistake,’ answered the factor, ‘ A nobler‘minded, better- bred young man does not breathe than the youth you allude to.’ ‘I did not ask you, sir. for the fellow’s characterâ€"4 asked a imple question,’ said the marquis angrily, and expect a direct answer.’ ‘ He did play at the same rink with your lordship.’ ‘ Well, since it seems that he is in my service. the sooner he quits it the better,’ said the marquis sharply. ‘ My lord l’ exclaimed the factor, with astonishment; ‘ surely you can- not mcan thfs l’ ‘ My meaning, sir, is plain,’ was the angry answer. custom of saying one thing and mean- ing another. My words, Ipresume, are plain enough. Dismiss that fol- low from my service instantly.’ (To be Concluded.) râ€"L Before the days of teetotallors a neighbor of Mr. Bisbee’a saw that gentleman at an early ‘ hour of the day crawling slowly homeward on his hands and knees over the frozen ground. ‘ Why don’t you get up and walk, Mr. b'isbeo? why don’t you get up and walk? said his neigh- bor. ‘ I w-w-would,’ was the answer, b-b-bnt it’s so mighty thin here that I’m afraid I should b-b-brake through,’ To keep eggs from spoiling, eat them while they are fresh. We have tried all kinds of methods, but this, we think, is the only one to be relied on in any climate. l 'I a... no. i. m. l “ Satan finds some mischiefstill, For idlo hands to do.” ‘Give your son a Bible and a calling,’ said another eminent di- vino. Write the words in letters of gold! Any calling is better than none: there is nothing surer than that. You would like to see your Harry fairly started for the Wool- sack ; your little Cecil steaming up to the other bank of the great river where lies the archicpiscopal palace of Lamb'eth; and your blue-eyed Earnest floating calmly into the viccrcgal precincts of the Govcrm mcnt House at Calcutta. Well, I have my Harry, and my Cecil, and my Earnest, and [should like to see thein,'too, Well ahead in the race for the Chancellor’s wig, or the Frimate's sleeves, or the body- guard of the Governor-General; butII would sooner see them cutting planks in a saw-yard, or shoulderng heavy luggage at a railway station, than doing nothing, when they have come to a fitting age to do a good day’s work for a good day’s wage, and to earn their bread like honest gentlemen. , There is nothing like it in human lifeâ€"«nothing at the same time so enobling and so exhilarating. It braces a man like cold water: it invigoratcs him like iron and quin- ine. What a poor creature he is who has no work to doâ€"what a burden to himself and to others Lâ€" Many a man’s happiness‘has been blasted by the possession of an estate ; and if independence with.- out work be a sore trouble. what must idleness be without independ- ence! For a thoroughly idle man, you must not look in the high places of the earth. Your great lords and landed pnoprietOrs have commenly work to do. The management of ~ a great estate, in spite of all inter! Houses of Parliament gather up and. absorb into the mass of laboring men. if they were left all the year round to their own devices, I can al- most forgive the legislative errors and the administrative miscarriages to which they are prone. What mischief would Satan find for the idle hands of men with so much money in their pockets! Talk of wasted sessions, of unprofitable de- bates, if mighty deluges of words leading to nothing, and hint that Parliament is of no use. Of no use! Is there any industrial school in the whole kingdom of hall'so much use? any rclormatory so potential for good? Surely an institution for keeping our great lords and landed gentry out of mischief, is not to be made light of by any benevolent mind. M SELF-RECURPERATIVE POWER OF WORN-Oil'l‘ LA NDS From the Country Gentleman and Cultivator. Muslim. Eni'ron,-â€"-Sevcral years ago I made the statement, through your paper, that all worn-out lands, and even lands naturally barren and unfcrtilc, possessed the power of self-remipcraticn. I mean that all poor lands may be brought up to a very high state of fertility from the means produced upon the land,with- out the aid of foreign manutes. I remember that the editor at the time I made the statement, was rather incredulous relative to the correct- ness of the proposition. I propose new to illustrate not only the possis bility but the practicability of the thing. Suppose a man take twenty acres of land, so poor that itcannot,bythd most careful tillage, producevnore than ten bushelsof corn to the acre. Now, suppose the man plants the twenty acres, and does all for it that can be done by the plow, the cultia vator and the hoe. According to the supposition, the field will pro. duce 200 bushels of corn. _ Now, suppose that,instcad ofhara vesting the corn, it should all be turned under in the fall to rot,and the field planted again the next year. The second crop Would probably not be less than 15 bushels to the acre, or 300 bushels on the field. Let the same course be pursued for ten years, and the whole field would be brought up to the highest state of fertility. But now, instead of ploughing the corn under from year to year, it should all be saved, the stalks and corn, carefully. Let the corn be fed to hogs, and the stalks to other ani- mals,and in circumstances that every grain, both solid and liquid, can be saved to be retained to the land again. I say, again, when in fact but asmall proportion of the grain camc from the soil, but from the ats ‘mosphere in the form of carbon, air . and water- Suppose ten hogs only were raised and fattencd in the year, these ten hogs shonch be made to manufacture 100 loads of the richest kind of ma* nure. A span of horses, one cow, and an ordinary family of six or eight persons,‘vould furnish the ma- terials for manufacturing fifty loads more. All the excrement,both solid and liquid, of the horses, cow, and the family, together with the waste slop of the family, should all be saved by plenty of absorbents, and all put into the manure factory car- i'ied on by the hogs. In this .way the hog, in his factory, would earn more than he has cost,and more eventhan he wil‘ fetch in market after being killed. The droppings of the cow, after having gone through the man' are fitClOl‘y,\VUUld be worth as much as the milk of the cow,and the waste from the family would produce all the provisions of the family. I know that many of your readers will be altogether incredulous, and call me wild and extravagant in my proposition ; yet if an examination Were to be made of their farms, barns,yards,hog-pens and hen roasts; it would be found that from one half} to nine-tenths of all their manore was wasted- and their farms, arch-i ards and gardens producing but half: a crop of anything. So, the= world goes. .I. I... E'DG-ERTON, Waverley, N.Y., Nov. I3,