We seldom weary of another's "Trouble" that gives license for our oratory to arrange itself in philippics of censure, or lectures on 'doing wrong." One unfortunate incident in a man or woman's life is remembered, and recorded with a devotional earnestness seldom bestowed on the commendable actions of our acquaintance; and sorry are we to confess, that a tithe of exaggeration in derogatory statements by no means lessens the attention of the jury, nor invalidates the testimony of the witness. Offences against the wisely-established rules of social propriety must ever merit and incur a degree of animadversion and odium. The whip of "public opinion" is a most useful and necessary instrument; but let us be sure the castigation is deserved before we award it, and even then tie no malicious knots in the thong. The "cat-o'-nine Who has failed to notice the peculiar tendency in gorge ourselves to repletion on the stricken prey in our many dispositions to magnify the various little ailments fangs, but bury the carcase, and return to it whenever and accidents, which must and will happen to man, into caprice or appetite requires a new supply of depraved colossal miseries? There is a morbid, whining, self-stimulant. esteeming tone about some natures, that dwells on a cold in the head, as though it were the axis on which all the hospitals in Europe turned. A torn garment, a pinched finger, a badly-served dinner, or a wet day when a fine one is wished for, will elicit a never-ending tirade of dismal, lachrymose murmuring, reminding one of a "Lament in D minor" on asthmatic bagpipes. These people have a keen eye for imperfections. Take them into your garden, and they will tell you of the "common stocks" and "vulgar marigolds" which ought to be moved; this walk is too straight, and that too crooked; the earwigs are a nuisance, and the dahlia is condemned without mercy for its want of scent. Roses may hang as thick as June can fling them-the golden jasmine and sparkling azalia may choke the way with beauty and lusciousness-tails," rigorously and indiscretionately applied, has but not a word will you hear in their praise. Take these changed many a good, though erring man, into a reckpeople to a party, and they will instantly detect all the less villain, and the savage infliction of the lash of plain faces in the group. They never dilate on the ices babbling tongues has transformed many a penitent sinner until they find one with the chill off, and swallow the into a defying outcast, and defeated the purpose of finest wine without comment until the seventh glass, "prevention of evil" by merciless and unmeasured when they smile with delight, and loudly proclaim it "punishment." And, after all, what facts of ameliorat"corked." They hint their suspicions the next morning ing character may be observed in the paraded culpabilities that the "lobster salad" was nearly all "boiled sole," and of immoral convicts, if we will but investigate fairly and insinuate a doubt as to whether the musicians were injudge impartially! Never let us forget that "the trail perfect tune during the last quadrille. These people of the serpent is over us all ;" and when we hear some must be scrupulously excluded at pic-nics and rural story of defamation eagerly related with all the coarse excursions. Un-Soyer-like combinations of acids and detail and flagrant addenda that loud-voiced scandal can sweets, and the too immediate conjunction of general give, let us gently insinuate to the immaculate conveyedible opposites, are known to be very possible on the ancer, that it better becomes the professors of religion opening of hampers that have been well shaken over a and philanthrophy to look on the failings of our fellowfew miles of eross road, and subjected to an inverted creatures with the mild and open glance of charity, than position. Wet evenings may come on after a lovely day, through the magnifying lenses of falsehood and prejudice. and Trouble may arise even on a party of pleasure; so Let us rather seek to bind up the wounds of stained keep this fearful class of bipeds out, for they were never characters and desolate hearts. Let us try to soften the yet detected in "making the best of it." mass of "Trouble" centered in human frailty, by emulating the example of a Divine Teacher, and "make the best of it." The power of meeting "Trouble" with calm endurance is admirably illustrated by those who, with large ideas and generous impulses, contrive to live honestly and respectably on very limited means." Many a one who would poetically appreciate the grandeur of the Alps, glory in the possession of a Canova, and worship the altar-canvas of a Murillo, is condemned by fate to lodge in a close attic, and consult his liabilities as to whether he can, with propriety, undertake a trip to Kew Gardens, or invest a shilling in the bust of Pope Pius or Shakspere. Many an enlightened intellect, many a sensitive spirit, is bound to a wheel of grinding poverty, bitterly restricted in sympathies and hopes, yet wearing the mien and manner of elevated content. No splenetic wailing, no drivelling invective, is heard from this order of being. They are not ashamed to be deemed poor; they live humbly, but they think justly, act prudently, and "pay their debts." Their sense of right excludes the indulgence of their tastes; but an upright conscience, and high, moral pride, are stalwart supporters of the self-denial exercised, and such a combination of nice feeling, stern sense, and practical integrity, confer a "patent of nobility" far greater than that of the "house of Buckingham." This is a destiny more common than we imagine; and a strong lesson it is, when we see a mind and soul of Nature's finest workmanship take the scanty pittance doled out to them by Fortune, and bravely, honourably, and cheerfully "make the best of it." A too usual evidence of our disinclination to "make the best" of the "Trouble" that arises from the sins and errors of social delinquency, is afforded by every gossipping coterie in civilized society. Put us on the lightest scent of fallen excellence by the report of dishonoured virtue or impeached responsibility, and we betray an innate propensity to quarry the game; and with the unchristian-like gusto of predatory animals, we not only There is no better motto for the universal community than the exhortation contained in these five words. It is available in all stations and for all circumstances. It it is a watchword that will carry us through the revolutionary disturbances of life with comparative pleasure and safety; for we truly and unreservedly believe, that "Trouble" of any sort, from the loss of a button to a national bankruptcy, is neutralized most effectually by "making the best of it." ELIZA COOK. LOVE OF COUNTRY IN TOWN. WHAT a beautiful trait in the character of the English We do not wonder at the universality of this feeling among our countrymen and countrywomen. This old green country is worthy of all their admiration, love, and pride. It is almost a part of themselves, and associations connected with it are bound up with their being. Our poets have sung of it, till it has become mixed up with And their tenderest and strongest influences. History has gladdened by the sight of a flower in a poor city dwellmade it venerable; its old castles, and abbeys, and ing; there it shines like a star in the dark-a light in churches-its battle-fields-its old halls and country- the humblest house. The love of flowers is beautiful in houses, are they not identified in history with the march the young, beautiful in the aged. It bespeaks simplicity, of this great people in civilization and freedom? Then, purity, delicate taste, and an innate love of nature. there are the birth-places of its great men, the haunts of long may flowers bloom in the homes of our people-in its poets, the stately piles dedicated to learning, the mag- their parlour-windows, in their one-roomed cottages, in nificent palaces of the nobles, the homes of the people, their attics, in their cellar dwellings even. We have the huts of the poor, scattered all over this green land. hope for the hearts that love flowers, and the country of There are the old forests, older than the Norman Con- which they are born. quest; and the old streams and mountains, older than all. Country! The very word has music in it; it brings up thoughts of the merry maypole, the freshness of the woods and fields, pansies and spring violets, shady lanes, and rose-embowered lattices, the hum of bees, and the music of birds, the bleating of sheep and lowing of cattle at eventide, clear skies from which the sun shines down among green leaves, and upon grass land, mossy banks, and gurgling rills, while trout and minnow Taste the luxury of glowing beams Country, however, we cannot all have; we, who live in towns and cities--the great accumulated deposits of civilization-must ply away at our several tasks, some with the hammer, and others with the quill; shopmen at their counters; lawyers in their chambers; needlewomen in their attics; merchants in their counting-houses; labourers at their daily work. But even here the love of country shows itself as strikingly as ever; the strong passion displays itself in a thousand forms. Its See, perched in that window sill, high above the rushing tide of city life, a lark in its narrow cage. eyes upturned, and its feet planted on the bit of green turf, which its owner brought from under a great oaktree in the forest, when on his last holiday ramble; it pours through its little throat a flood of melody and joy. Though confined, yet it sees the sun through its prison bars, looks up cheerfully, and sings! And its captive owner in that narrow room behind-captive by the necessity of labouring for his daily bread, he, too, as he hears the glad melody, and as his eyes glance at the bit of green turf, and then at the blue sky above, feels joy and love "shed abroad in his heart," and he labours on more hopefully, even though the carol of the lark has brought his childhood's home, the verdure of its fields, and the music of its words, gushing into his memory. Sing on then, bird of heaven! You see the love of country strongly displays itself on all the holidays in the year. Then you find crowds of men, women, and children, pressing and panting out of the towns and cities in all directions, towards the fields and the fresh air. Steamers up, and steamers down, stage coaches, "busses," and cabs; and above all, railway trains are, on such days, packed tight with passengers, all bound for the "country," for a day on the hills, in the woods, or by the rivers-a long day of fresh breathing and of pure delight. In the larger towns in the manufacturing districts, you will find railway trips made in all directions-some towards the sea to inhale the ocean breeze and gaze on the awful deep-some to old abbeys and old castles, full of historic interest-some to the moors, the rocks and fells, and some to the lakes; and thus tens of thousands of our artizan population now occupy their long summer holiday. Blessings on railways, which have thus been the means of bringing the enjoyment of this healthy and beautiful taste within the reach of so large a mass of our population. We cannot all have the pleasures of a country lifetrue! But what remains? Why, we bring the country into our towns, into our rooms, into our windows! Here, in London, amid a population of some two million souls, we have struggled, generation after generation, and with no small success, to rescue and reserve green spots of turf and trees, every here and there, from the everencroaching and extending demands of population and commerce. Leigh Hunt, that kindly and loving-hearted observer of nature in all its moods, tells us, in his recent interesting book on "The Town," that "there is scarcely a street in the City of London, perhaps not one, nor many out of the pale of it, from some part of which the passenger may not discern a tree. There is a little garden in Watling Street! It lies completely open to the eye, being divided from the footway by a railing only." In numerous places, even in the heart of the City, there are to be seen trees and green spots, that sur- We might say a great deal more of the thousand other prise the observer in the midst of the noise and smoke. forms in which this love of country exhibits itself among Then there are the fine old parks,-St. James's, that eme-us-of the cottage gardening, the taste for which is rald gem, set in the very midst of the bustle and business of the West End. There are the modern parks-the lungs of the metropolis, Hyde and Regent's, every year becoming more and more beautiful. And, finally, there are the new parks, at Battersea and the east end of London. Nothing but the strong love of the green, and the laudable desire on the part of the Government to gratify this excellent taste on the part of the people, could have led to the appropriation of such large tracts of valuable ground in and about London, for the purpose of public recreation and enjoyment. Go to Covent Garden Market any morning in June, and you will there find the general love of flowers and green leaves displaying itself in another form. The stalls are filled with endless loads of bouquets; the tables are gaily set out with their tempting array of calceolarias, geraniums, fuschias, cactuses, roses, and heliotrope, all nicely potted and mossed; and few there are who can resist the pleasure of having one or more of these in possession, and bearing them off in triumph. Many a longing look is cast upon these stalls by those too poor to buy. What would not many a poor girl give to be the owner of one of these sweet plants; reminding them, as they do, of country, and gardens, and sunshine, and the fresh beauty of nature? How often have we been rapidly extending among the people-the small allotments so eagerly desired by working men; the amateur gentleman-farming; of the love of rural sports, and games, and exercise; of our national literature, which is so full of the free breath of the country, of our poetry and song, which from Shakespere to Wordsworth has always drawn its finest imagery from nature, and has never struck the chords of the national heart with more electric power, than when appealing to country life and rural beauty. But here we stop, with the expression of our ardent wish that this natural and elevating task--this longing admiration for country life and country joys, may long form so prominent a characteristic of the English people. S. S. PLATO had so great and true an idea of perfect righteousness, and was so thoroughly acquainted with the corruption of mankind, that he makes it appear, that if a man, perfectly righteous, should come upon earth, he would find so much opposition in the world, that he would be imprisoned, reviled, scourged, and in fine crucified by such, who, though they were extremely wicked, would yet pass for righteous men. Our of good men choose acquaintance; of acquaintance, friends; of friends, familiars. LESSONS FOR LITTLE ONES. BY PETER PARLEY, Author of "Peter Parley's Annual," "Tales," &c. time to time say something of animals, plants, and minerals, and of the laws by which they are governed and sustained by their good Creator; and I shall not forget the great men who have lived in ages long ago; of their heroic deeds, of their noble virtues, and of what they have thought, said, and done. I shall not, at the same time, forget to tell my young friends some interest HERE I am, my little dears, your old friend Peter Parley. You have all read my Annual, I dare say, and will, I doubt not, read it again and again. But I have a few words to say to you here from week to week, and I trusting stories, and show them how children can sometimes my say may be useful to you. Every one knows that Peter Parley likes to blend the useful with the instructive; that when he tells a story it is always with a moral aim; that when he writes a book he has always in view to make his little readers better as well as wiser. Peter Parley will not depart from his old plan in his parleying on this occasion. Peter Parley desires at all times to see little children wise and good, cheerful and happy. He has seen many thousand children in his time. He has examined them in their studies, and engaged with them in their amusements, and the more he has known of them the more he has loved them; and he does love them very dearly. I believe that little children love me, and that those who do so will hearken to what I am going to say, for I must tell you what I think of a little child. A little child is a little bud not yet opened; and, as in a little bud lies folded up all the blossoms of a full blown rose, so within the mind of a little child lies enclosed that beauty which will grow and expand until it bursts into all loveliness and grace. But you know that there must be a power to draw this blossom forth. A rose-tree would not grow, nor would the bud open, unless they were watered by the rain and cheered by the sunshine; neither would the mind of a little child come into blossom without something to draw it forth. That something is education. The word education means to draw forth the faculties, and the real educator will be the rain and the sunshine, the light and the warmth, to a little child's mind. You know, my dear children, that the rose, after it has blossomed, dies; its leaves decay, and, however beautiful its blossom may be, it perishes; but behind all is the seed, and within the seed is the germ of another beingthe principle of another life. So it is with a little child; it will grow; it will become a man or woman; it will blossom; it will fade; it will fall; but then shall arise the germ of its future being-to live for ever. But have you not sometimes seen a little worm eating the rose bud away, and thus destroying it before it had time to blossom? Just as that worm would destroy the bud, so does sin destroy the human soul. be heroes as well as men-how they think, feel, and act. I shall not forget to show them their faults, and their follies, and even their vices, in a glass of my own making; but, at the same time, I shall be equally anxious to reveal their virtues, to laud their good deeds, and to engrave, as upon a tablet of brass, their filial affection, their fraternal love, their sincerity, their disinterestedness, their devotion, their truth, and their goodness. But I do not know that I shall have all my talk to the children; I hope sometimes to have a few words with fathers and mothers, and to tell them a story. To them are entrusted the destinies of the rising generation-to them future ages look with anxiety. Can it be wrong to say, that they sometimes require teaching as well as their children. All love their offspring; but, alas, the love that many feel is a mere animal fondness, and not a thinking love. Peter Parley, indeed, loves little children, but he does not like pert, vain, impudent, idle, troublesome, forward, fantastical children, which are generally made so by indulgence and bad management alone. He will, therefore, make it his business occasionally to have a word with parents as well as their children, in the hope of such being equally acceptable with the other writings of PETER PARLEY. BEING HAPPY. There are two ways of being happy. We may either diminish our wants, or augment our means, either will do, the result is the same; and it is for each man to decide for himself, and do that which may happen to be the easiest. If you are idle, or sick, or poor, however hard it may be to diminish your wants, it will be easier than to augment your means. If you are active and prosperous, or young or in good health, it may be easier for you to augment your means, than to diminish your wants. if you are wise, you will do both at the same time, young or old, sick or well, rich or poor, and if you are very wise, you will do both in such a way as to augment the general happiness of society. But A CHILD is a man in a small letter, yet the best copy of Adam; and he is happy, whose small practice in the world can only write his character. He is Nature's fresh Did you ever see a rose-bush which had been neglected picture newly drawn in oil, which time and much handby the gardener, with its rude and crooked shoots entan-ling dims and defaces. His soul is yet a white paper, gled and massed with weeds, and choaked by briars, nettles, and thorns? Such is the state of a little child without education; its mind is choked with evil, and the soul, the germ of future existence, is cramped in its noble energies and its high desires, and cannot spring into the light of truth and goodness. But education, like a gardener, comes and prunes the little tree, cuts off the straggling branches, digs about its roots, destroys the noxious weeds, trains the young plant into elegance of form, sustains and comforts it, and then it blossoms more beautifully, and bears more plentifully, than ever. I will be your gardener, my dear little children; and I shall not fail to look upwards to Heaven for the sunshine and the moisture, for the light and the heat, for the distilling of the dew upon the tender herb, and the small rain upon the grass. I will now say a few words as to the plan I shall pursue in this publication. In my Children's Page I shall attempt variety, because to children, as well as children of a larger growth,-" Variety is pleasing." I shall bring before my young readers some of the wonders of God's beautiful creations in earth, air, sea, or sky. I shall tell them of different creatures, and of different nations, and from unscribbled with observations of the world, wherewith at length it becomes a blurred note-book. He is purely happy, because he knows no evil, nor hath made means by sin to be acquainted with misery. He arrives not at the mischief of being wise, nor endures evils to come by foreseeing them. He kisses and loves all, and when the smart of the rod was past, smiles on his beater. Nature and his parents alike dandle him, and 'tice him on with a bait of sugar to a draught of wormwood. He plays yet like a young prentice the first day, and is not come to his task of melancholy. All the language he speaks yet is tears, and they serve him well enough to express his necessity. His hardest labour is his tongue, as if he were loth to use so deceitful an organ; and he is best company with it when he can but prattle. We laugh at his foolish sports, but his game is our earnest; and his drums, rattles, and hobby-horses, but the emblems and mockery of men's business. His father hath writ him as his own little story, wherein he reads those days of his life which he cannot remember, and sighs to see what innocence he has outlived. He is the Christian's example, and the old man's relapse; the one imitates his pureness, and the other falls into his simplicitude. TEN YEARS AGO. INSCRIBED TO ALL WHO KNOW ME. DIAMOND DUST. MIRTH.-There is a large class of people who deem the business of life far too weighty and momentous to be THE robin had been dumb all day, the clouds were close and made light of; who would leave merriment to children, drear, The oak leaf bent its wither'd lips to kiss the dying year"; came With love and sorrow chequered, like the shadows and the flame. and laughter to idiots; and who hold that a joke would be as much out of place on their lips as on a gravestone or in a ledger. Surely it cannot be requisite to a man's being in earnest, that he should wear a perpetual frown. Is there less of sincerity in Nature doing her gambols in spring, than during the stiffness and harshness of her wintry gloom? And is it then altogether impossible to take up one's abode with truth, and to let all sweet homely feelings grow about it and cluster around Oh! my young heart's tide of happiness had ebbed a wave too low, it, and to smile upon it as a kind father or mother, and In that dim hour of twilight gloom, some ten years ago. Old merry Christmas was at hand, as constant as of yore, And if I missed some two or three, that ne'er could come again, It conjured up with minstrel spell, a fair and merry throng` and so My "Christmas Holly" bound me to ye, ten years ago. Since then we've mingled cheerfully within our "Household Room," Ye've heard me sing "Old Dobbin's" worth, and tell "Old Ye hailed me in my "Murray Plaid," and listened to my strain, I bring ye now a posy bunch of varied scent and hue, And pray that ye will take them home to nurse in evening hours. fill? And as ye took my sombre branch, in midst of wintry gloom, Spring flowers are sweet in every place, we like to see them come With ye who reared my "Christmas Holly," ten years ago. ELIZA COOK. to sport with it, and hold light and merry talk with it, as with a loved brother or sister; and to fondle it, and play with it, as with a child. No otherwise did Socrates and Plato commune with truth; no otherwise Cervantes and Shakespere. It is wise to consider the characteristics of youth as painters do colours in an unfinished picture; for then we forbear to criticise apparent austerities or to condemn the too vivid glow, since the one will be tempered and composed by the matured back ground of reason, and the other subdued,-alas! too often obliterated by long deep shadows of care. MEMORY is the cabinet of imagination, the treasury of reason, the registry of conscience, and the council chamber of thought. ENTHUSIASM.-Many people are prejudiced against enthusiasm; they confound it with fanaticism, which is a great mistake. Fanaticism is an exclusive passion, the object of which is an opinion; enthusiasm is connected with the harmony of the universe; it is the love of the beautiful, elevation of soul, enjoyment of devotion, all united in one single feeling which combines grandeur and repose. The sense of this word amongst the Greeks affords the noblest definition of it; enthusiasm signifies "God in us." In fact, when the existence of man is expansive, it has something divine. "SELF-PRESERVATION is the first law of nature," but too many in the world act as though it were the only one. "NO MONOPOLY," said a sunbeam dispersing a dew drop that was hiding in the folds of a rose. A Vow of Abstinence is a moral prison, and the appetite must have become criminal before it needs incarceration. BAD TEMPER.-A jar of household vinegar, wherein all the pearls of happiness are dissolved. CIRCUMSTANCES.-The whippers-in of the human pack. ALCOHOL.-The great Government contractor for straight jackets and coffins. LOVE. The atmosphere breathed by God. THE HEART.-Nature's original bible, scarcely to be recognized in the world's translation. BLUSHING is a suffusion-least seen in those who have the most occasion for it. COURAGE is often the fear of being thought a coward. PARTIAL instruction may be a partial evil, but universality of knowledge, however high the standard, will never take the poor out of their sphere. Elevating the lower, without depressing the upper classes, it will be an unmixed good to both. The few will be still wiser than the many. The most ignorant will then run the greatest risk. In a general illumination, it is only the unlighted windows that are pelted and broken by the mob. Printed and Published for the Proprietor, by J. O. CLARKE, (of No. 9, Hemingsford Terrace, East, in the Parish of St. Mary, Islington, in the County of Middlesex) at his Printing Office, No. 3, Raquet Court, Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride, in the City of London. THE SWARMING OF THE BEES. WHEN Bees get too thick in the hive, and want elbowroom, they swarm; leaving their parent nest behind, they fly away, and commence business on their own account. And when the Bees of the human hive find their villages, towns, and cities, become too populous and crowded for the territory on which they are plantedwhen their denizens become pinched for room, pinched for food, pinched for occupation, and can only subsist by preying upon each other-it is then full time that they too began to think of swarming to other unoccupied regions of the earth, where the soil is as fertile, where the air is as genial, and where the remuneration for labour is much more ample than it is in old and over-crowded countries. As with Bees, so with men. The young, the enterprising, the adventurous, go forth on their new career, leaving to the old members of the hive the enjoyment of their comfortable nest. The world is wide-the fairest regions of the earth are yet unpeopled-millions of square miles of fertile soil, rich with the decayed vegetation of ages, have not yet been trodden by the foot of man. These are the grand fields for the venturous enterprise of youth, whereon the destinies of future ages are to be unfolded; where, untrammelled by the barbarisms of the Old World, and free from those vices of class and caste which still cling to all the venerated institutions of Europe, the human race is destined to work out the great problems of civilization, social happiness, and civil and religious liberty. Colonization is now the great subjugator of the earth, and the British people are the leaders of this movement. The Saxon race is planting its feet firmly in every quarter of the globe. In the United States of America, a mighty empire has been founded, already equal in enterprize, intelligence, wealth, and power, to any in the world. Another great empire in the Southern Ocean looms before us-the germs of which are already widely planted in the flourishing colonies of Australia. At the southern point of Africa, also, on a fertile soil, and under a beautiful sky, thriving colonies are now settling; and in Hindostan, Sumatra, Borneo, and China, there are already laid the bases of future empires. In all the quarters of the globe, therefore,-in America, Australia, Asia, and Africa,-the Saxon race, migrating originally from the northern shores of Europe, is rapidly diffusing itself, carrying with it everywhere the seeds of free institutions, of manly independence, of Christian civilization, of social prosperity and well-being. The free states of the North-Western part of the American Union, and the British colonies in Canada, have hitherto been the favourite resort of emigrants from this country. In 1847, no fewer than 142,154 emigrants left this country for the States, and 109,680 for Canada. [PRICE 14d. The great attraction of those regions for the emigrating population of Britain, doubtless consists in the cheapness of land there, and the facility of reaching their coasts. In the North-Western States and Canada, the richest land may be had for between 5s. and 6s. an acre, though in the neighbourhood of settled towns, it is, of course, considerably more; and the cost of a steerage passage to New York or Quebec, the chief emigrant ports, is from £4 10s. to £5 10. There is also, it is true, a long inland voyage to be performed; but, taking all things into account, it is cheaper and easier to get at the virgin soils of the States and Canada, than almost any other of the new lands now sought after by emigrants from European countries. Nothing can exceed the fertility of that nagnificent region known as the Great Valley of the Mississipi, a valley interlaced with 15,000 miles of navigable rivers, containing 700,000,000 acres of the richest and most fertile land, and competent to grow food for the entire existing population of Europe. The chief portion of this valley is yet waiting the occupation of man. Although equal to the maintenance of 150,000 millions of people, it is only here and there, at remote intervals along the banks of the great rivers which roll through it, cheered by the habitations of industrious and civilized men. The same remarks apply to the North-Western States of Iowa, Wisconsin, Michigan, and Illinois, and to the extensive regions of Western Canada, which are competent to afford more than elbow room to the entire unemployed population of Europe, and to their swarms of emigrants, for generations to come. Turn we now for a moment to the great south land of Australia-an island almost as large as Europe, fringed with a luxuriant territory, and with commodious bays and harbours in which the proudest navies may securely ride. Australia is as yet the youngest of all civilized countries. Its history is confined almost entirely to the present century. In 1801, its white population amounted to only 8,000, chiefly convicts. About this time, it was discovered that the country was eminently adapted for sheep, and the growth of wool; free settlers resorted to New South Wales, and it began to assume a flourishing aspect. New settlements were made around its shores, at Western Australia, South Australia, Port Phillip, and Port Essington. Already the population of these colonies amounts to about 300,000, and they export produce to the value of two millions sterling per annum. Until very recently, the interior of Australia was as little known as the central regions of Africa; only a few fertile districts round the coast were settled. The greatest additions recently made to our knowledge of the interior, have been contributed by Sir Thomas Mitchell, Dr. Leichard, and Capt. Sturt. Sir Thomas Mitchell pushed his way into the interior, and then came upon a country which seemed to him "the fairest region on earth; plains |