The workhouse, which occupies a similar situation to the asylum, a little farther to the westward, serves for a union of eighteen parishes, comprehending a population of thirty thousand. It is a fair example of the neatly-arranged and well-ordered modern workhouses of the English provinces, having separate apartments and courts for the men, women, boys, and girls. The inmates are a hundred and forty in number, of whom eighty are children, the rest being chiefly aged and infirm persons. The old sit at comfortable firesides, reading or spinning, a few only of the men, who are more than usually strong, working at shoe-making, weaving, or teazing of oakum, in a neighbouring lodge. Amongst the latter, I found a hale fellow of 82, who wielded a mallet for beating out ropes in a most efficient manner, and seemed greatly to enjoy his labour. Amongst the veterans of the fireside was a man who had been in all thirty years in the Lincoln workhouse, being a transfer from the old establishment to the new. He had married in the old workhouse, and with his wife had cheerfully and contentedly boarded for six-and-twenty years at the expense of the public, although during the greater part of that time neither an old nor an infirm man. I inquired if he and his wife were separated under the new system, and found the contrary to be the case, from which I would argue that there is a disposition to relax in this regulation in proper instances. The school-rooms for the children showed the apparatus for learning which marks the improved modes of instruction; and their court-yards are furnished with various kinds of swings to tempt them to useful exercise. Upon the whole, the regulations and arrangements of the establishment, as far as they went, seemed well calculated for a humane but not luxurious provision for the more immediately clamant objects of the public bounty. I was anxious to learn to what extent the provision for the relief of the able-bodied in temporary destitution was taken advantage of, and was shown to the dormitory provided for the males of that class. It had not a single occupant, and, during the whole winter, there had only been three, all of whom went away after being inmates for one or two nights. The ward for able-bodied females generally has a few inmates, being resorted to by unmarried women as a lying-in hospital. Overlooking this special circumstance, the provision of workhouse accommodation for the able-bodied is, as far as the Lincoln union is concerned, an unaccepted offer. The house serves expressly as a refuge for old and infirm persons, and destitute children; it does nothing for cases of occasional destitution amongst those who are presumed to have the strength to work for their daily bread. Assuming that this is the general case, it may be felt as a hardship amongst a class long accustomed to look to the public for a portion of their subsistence; and perhaps it would be wise to give a certain discretionary latitude, greater than now exists, for the relief of occasional poor. But, when I mentally contrasted the offer here held out to all, of a clean lodging and good food, burdened only with the proviso of their coming to take it, with the three farthings a-week given in some Scottish parishes to the infirm poor, I could not help thinking that the late outcry had not been directed by any means to the worst part of the general case of national pauperism. A few of what may be called the minor antiquities of Lincoln are extremely curious. There are remains of a house in which John of Gaunt lived with his wife Catherine Swinford. These are now included in a modern-looking mansion in the southern skirts of the city, close to the London road, and display, in particular, a remarkably beautiful small oriel window, in which the lights are of the compound Gothic form, enriched with trefoils and roses. On the opposite side of the road, or street, there are two remaining sides of a very old quadrangular house, which was probably connected with that of John of Gaunt, but is now used for servile purposes: the entry from the road passes under a semi-circular arch, ornamented in the zig-zag style, and against the front are several flat buttresses, with a small carved cornice. On a scaffold accessible from a window in this ancient building, it is known that Lord Hussey was executed in the reign of Henry VIII., for a conspiracy in which he and some other Catholic nobles had been engaged. Another domestic building of what we may call Norman times is on the west side of the High Street, in the centre of the city. It is singularly ornamented in front; and over a semi-arched entry, adorned with mouldings, is a projection which once contained a chimney serving for a room on the second floor. This is usually called the Jew's House, because it was inhabited by a Jewess named Beleset de Wallingford, who was hanged for clipping coin in the eighteenth year of Edward I. It has been depicted and particularly alluded to in the Pictorial History of England, as furnishing evidence that in Norman times the principal room was on the next above the ground floor. We may remark that, in this respect, it strictly resembles a class of houses formerly numerous in Scottish towns, and of which a considerable number of specimens still exist in Hawick, where the ground floor was a series of vaults, as in the contemporary peels and towers of the barons, for keeping cattle and goods, while the domestic apartments were above,

I was particularly curious to learn all that was to be learned respecting the story of Hugh of Lincoln. This tale, first recorded by Matthew Paris, refers, as must be generally known, to a boy of nine years of age, who was said to have been inveigled by Jews into

Lady Helen ran to the deip draw-well,
And knelt upon her knee:
"My bonny Sir Hugh, an ye be here,
I pray thee speik to me."

"The lead is wondrous heavy, mother,
The well is wondrous deep;

A keen pen-knife sticks in my heart,
A word I downa speik."

What foundation there may be in truth for this story [of course, the idea of criminality on the part of the Jews is ridiculous] it would be difficult now to ascertain. Not many years ago, under a sepulchral altar which tradition pointed out in the cathedral as that of St Hugh, the bones of a boy were discovered, and were universally believed to have been those of the sainted child. It seems scarcely questionable that the story is true as far as that a boy, named Hugh, was killed under mysterious circumstances, and that the incident became a pretext for wreaking out every kind of cruelty upon the Jews. Such horrors are dreadful when they take place; but we must surely admire that fine arrangement in Providence by which the most dismal doings of an early age become in time the themes of romantic legend, and of the most interesting poetical association. Lincoln would not be quite what it is to a sentimental traveller like me, were it not for the story of little Hugh.

THE RIVAL EDITORS.

IN a certain town of England, which shall be nameless, there flourished some years ago two rival weekly newspapers. The one, which supported the ultra-Tory party, and rejoiced in the title of "The Universal Conservative Post," was very ably edited by Mr Charles Phipps; the other, which advocated principles of an exactly opposite tendency, was called "Vox Populi, or the Voice of the People," and was published under the direction of Mr Walker Hodgkins. As the inhabitants of the town and neighbourhood of R-— were pretty fairly divided betwixt the two great political parties, Messrs Phipps and Hodgkins contrived to make their journals pay tolerably well; but, not satisfied with this equal partition of profits, as they were both red hot about their principles, there was a constant struggle between them for mastery; and if one happened for a few weeks to obtain an advantage over the other in the amount of sale, the comparative numbers were blazoned forth in large type on the first page of the fortunate journal, to the infinite mortification of the discomfited editor, who did not fail, in his next publication, to throw out all manner of gibes and sneers against his triumphant adversary, taking care, at the same time, to insinuate, that this temporary ascendancy, if real, was attributable to causes by no means so creditable as to afford matter for glorification, and that, in short, "the less that was said about it the better."

The competition between these two gentlemen to obtain the earliest intelligence of every matter of public interest, and to be the first to announce it to their subscribers, was intense, and not unfrequently led to the most ludicrous mis-statements; and on these occasions, forgetting how often the same thing had happened to himself, the one who had escaped the misfortune did not fail to indulge in the most cutting sarcasms against his unhappy brother; invariably asserting that the piece of intelligence in question had been in his possession some time before the other had it, but that he had too much respect for his readers to attempt to cram them with such absurd and idle rumours, and so forth. The desire, also, to outstrip each other, and the apprehension that if one passed over an event as being too unimportant to record, the other would insert it, often induced them to detail circumstances of the most trivial nature, and even sometimes to bring private matters before the public with which the public had no concern-making their papers, in short, the vehicles of scandal and of idle gossip; and as the period of publication approached --for these journals appeared on consecutive days-the editors' rooms were frequently not only the scenes of earnest meditation as to the most effective method of promoting their own success and annihilating the enemy, but also of much trouble and perplexity, aris

It happened that there resided in the neighbourhood of R- a certain young gentleman called Mr Ferdinand Adolphus Potts; and whether his parents, having the gift of prophecy, had conferred this romantic appellation on their offspring in order that his name might accord with his aspiring genius, or whether the genius had been awakened by the name, and he had thought it incumbent on him to render himself worthy of so high-sounding and euphonious a title, certain it is that the youth was fired with ambition to distinguish himself-and the path to fame which he chose was literature.

He had hitherto, however, been exceedingly unsuccessful, not with the public but with the publishers. The public, he had no doubt, would have done him justice, but the publishers had declined having any thing to do with his volume of poems, and the editors of the magazines had uniformly rejected his productions. Still resolved to see himself in print, and confident that, if once brought fairly before the public, he must succeed, he had at length, as a last resource, composed a poem on cruelty to animals in general, and to the cockchafer in particular-it happening to be the season when those unlucky insects make their annual debut in this troublesome world. This article he considered a perfect treasure; and he sent it to the editor of the Universal Post, in the absolute assurance, not only of its being accepted, but of himself being immediately offered a handsome salary as a regular contributor to the journal; his only doubt was, whether it would not be a degradation to his genius to accept the proposal. But, alas! the pages of the Universal Post seemed as inaccessible to his effusions as all other pages; and, after waiting a fortnight in the hope of seeing his ambition gratified, he called on Mr Phipps to inquire into the reason of the delay.

With some difficulty the editor recollected that a MS. had been left at the office with the signature of Philocockchafer, but he assured the indignant poet that the subject was not one of sufficiently general interest to warrant its insertion in his journal; and although Mr Potts dwelt on the important influence his effusion might have on the morals of the rising generation, and on the happiness and immunity from suffering of the unfortunate animals themselves, his eloquence was expended in vain; and, after venting his indignation in every opprobrious term he could think of, he rushed out of the room in a paroxysm of rage, vowing signal vengeance against the author of his

mortification.

It happened, on the evening of the day on which this scene occurred in the editor's room, that that worthy man, anxious to withdraw himself from the busy world, and to direct his thoughts exclusively to his "leader" for the following Thursday, and somewhat oppressed by the painful apprehension that the rival journal would eclipse him this week in the article of local and domestic intelligence, betook himself to a shady and retired walk in the neighbourhood of the town, known by the name of Ivy Lane; and there, as he was lounging slowly on, with his hands behind him and his eyes half-shut in deep meditation, he suddenly stumbled over something on the ground, which, on looking down, he perceived was a crutch. He picked it up, and then sought about for the owner. No one was in sight; but, in the course of this survey, happening to turn his head in the direction of a dry ditch that bordered the road, his eye alighted on an old wallet. This led him to further investigation, and, on approaching the spot, he saw lying in the ditch the mortal remains of a poor old beggar, who had for years frequented the neighbourhood, and obtained a scanty living out of the alms of the inhabitants, by whom he was well known, and generally tolerated. There was no appearance of violence about the body; the man had evidently died from age and infirmity, a consummation that had been long looked for. "Poor old Digges !" said Mr Phipps; so here you are at last, eh ?-come to the end of your rambles? The last time I saw you you were leaning against the post❞— But the word post awakened a new train of ideas. "The deuce !" cried he, "what a pity! This is only Tuesday, and my paper won't be out till Thursday!" And then he reflected that if he went back to the town and made known his discovery at the poor-house, it would be scarcely possible to prevent its reaching the office of the Vox Populi, and that thus his rival would have the

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advantage of being the first to announce the news of old Digges' decease to the neighbourhood; a result most provoking, certainly, and which he looked upon as a wanton flinging away of a piece of good luck that fortune had thrown in his way. "But why can't I keep the secret till their paper's thrown off, and then walk this way and pretend I have just made the discovery? It will make no manner of difference to poor Digges none in the world, poor fellow! He passed most of his nights under a hedge, and I've heard him say, he preferred it in summer. It's getting late now, and it's scarcely likely any body else will be walking this way. But, by the bye, let's see what's in the wallet; for if the old fellow left any money, it will be my duty to take care of it. So Mr Phipps opened the wallet, and found in it not only some crusts of bread, and the

of the poor old beggar lying in the ditch all night; he thought of hogs, and dogs, and polecats, and vermin of all sorts. Then, all at once, it occurred to him that he had not sufficiently investigated whether the man was actually dead or not! There might have been some spark of life left-he might only have fainted from exhaustion. "Good heavens! and I have left him there to die!" Distressed beyond measure at this last idea, which was worse than all the rest, Mr Phipps tossed and tumbled in his uneasy bed till the morning's dawn; and then, as the birds began to twitter, and the first gleam of light peeped through the chinks of his shutter, he jumped out of bed, and hastily putting on his clothes, and creeping quietly down stairs and out of the house, that he might not disturb the family, he directed his steps, with all the speed he could command, to the scene of his last night's adventure.

the triumphant gibes and jeers of the rival journalist, whom it furnished with a weapon of offence and defence, and an inexhaustible fund of raillery and sarcasm, to the end of the chapter.

A GO-AHEAD COUNTRY, MR WILLIAM KENNEDY accompanied Lord Durham to Canada in 1838, as commissioner to inquire into the municipal institutions of that country, with a view to their improvement. He was prosecuting this line of duty, when events in England suddenly determined Lord Durham to abandon his government and return home. Mr Kennedy, for whose services there was no longer any need, determined, before his own return, to journey into the United States and Texas. He ar rived in the latter country in the summer of 1839, and proceeded, no doubt with much curiosity, to examine the social and political condition of a state which, three years before, could not be said to have any defined existence. "I found," he says, "a stable government, religion respected, laws well administered, protection afforded to property and person, and the general tone

with some leaves and branches, and laid his crutch and his wallet beside him, he turned his steps homewards.

But here again Mr Potts was too cunning for him. He had seen the editor open his shutter, and from the earliness of the hour, suspecting mischief, had placed himself out of sight to watch the event; and when the worthy man emerged from the door, and with a hurried gait directed his steps towards Ivy Lane, he rushed off to his friend the constable, and dragging him out of bed, urged him to put on his clothes, and accompany enormity the atrocious Phipps was about to commit. With considerable anxiety as to what state he might find the body of the pauper in, Mr Phipps proceeded towards the place where he had left it; and his astoBut there had been a spectator to the latter part of nishment may be better conceived than described, as he this little drama that the worthy editor never dreamed himself would have said, when he found that old Digges, crutch, wallet, and all, had vanished from the spot, of-no less a person than Mr Ferdinand Potts, the leaving no trace or vestige behind by which he could disappointed contributor, who, boiling with revenge, guess how, when, or in what direction, they had dishad directed his steps to this retired quarter, in order appeared! The editor rubbed his eyes and looked to compose his thoughts to an ode that was to extin-again-examined the ditch for some extent searched guish, and for ever annihilate, the unfortunate Phipps. and searched-but all in vain. There lay the branches Had Potts witnessed the whole of the affair, he and the leaves, but the beggar and all his belongings might have made some approximation to a right inter- were assuredly gone! pretation of the editor's doings; but he was on the other side of the hedge, and had only arrived in time to descry Phipps abstract the money from the wallet, and then stoop down and conceal something, he did not know what, in the ditch. But no sooner was the obnoxious editor out of sight, than Mr Ferdinand hurried round to see what he had been hiding.

Mr Ferdinand was not very wise when he was in his best senses, and he was now somewhat out of them from the mortification his vanity had suffered by the rejection of his "article" and he was rather inclined to think that a man capable of that rejection (which he was certain must have arisen from the worst motives), would be equal to any other act, however atrocious; in short, to clothe the idea in his own words, he thought "there was nothing too bad for him." Without weighing the matter further, therefore, he jumped at once to the conclusion, that Phipps, if he had not actually murdered the man, which he was disposed to believe he had, had certainly robbed him-opened his wallet, appropriated the money, the amount of which

he had not been able to ascertain, and then concealed the body, from some private motive which he could not exactly penetrate-probably till he had got safe off with the booty; though the pains taken to hide the corpus rather inclined Mr Ferdinand to believe in the delictum. Without further deliberation, therefore, he hurried off to the chief constable of the place; and, relating what he had seen, to which he did not scruple, under the influence of his excited feelings, to make a few additions, roundly accused Mr Phipps of the robbery, implying the strongest suspicions that murder had preceded the crime.

The constable, in his secret heart, thought the thing impossible; but he was a Radical reformer, a furious partisan of the rival journal, and he did not feel it to be his duty to oppose his reason to a direct accusation of this sort; so he consented to accompany Mr Potts to Ivy Lane, where, sure enough, he found old Digges lying in the ditch, covered with leaves and branches,

and with his crutch and wallet beside him. There was nothing, therefore, left for him to do but to proceed straightway to a magistrate and disclose the appalling fact. By this time, however, the magistrate, who happened to be somewhat of an invalid, was gone to bed; and the affair, when he heard what Potts and the constable had to say, appeared to him so absurd, that all their representations could not induce him to take any steps in it, till he had better grounds to go upon; so he dismissed the official and the indignant accuser, and desired them to return to him in the morning. And by that time," said the constable to his companion, "if he really has been meddling with any thing he shouldn't, he'll have time to get off, if so be as he gets an inkling that we're after him."

This hint sunk deep into the mind of Potts; and, determined that, having embarked in the affair, he would carry it through, he made up his mind to spend the intervening hours in watching the editor's house; and accordingly he proceeded thither, and passed the remainder of the night in pacing the flags before the

door.

In the mean time, Mr Phipps, after he had lain down in his bed, began, somehow or other, to feel rather uneasy, not that he had any apprehension of what was machinating against him-such an idea would never have entered his head-but being really at heart a good-natured benevolent man, he could not help fearing he had not done right in leaving the body

With his arms thrown behind him and his chin sunk upon his breast, in deep cogitation, the amazed editor once more turned his steps homewards; but scarcely had he reached the end of the lane, when his reverie was rudely disturbed by feeling the heavy hand of Redburn the constable laid upon his shoulder, and receiving an imperative summons to attend that official to the magistrate's, without delay. He offered an explanation-for the triumph of Potts soon disclosed the mystery of his arrest-but without success; for where reason might have listened, prejudice was deaf; so, denouncing his unlucky stars and his own folly, he relinquished the vain endeavour, and resigned himself to the evil he could not avoid.

nished at all this, he resolved to make such observations and collect such documents as might enable him to give to the English public a comprehensive account of Texas. The result of his resolution is now before us in the form of two goodly octavo volumes,* being unquestionably the first authentic account we have received of the condition of Texas since it became an independent state, as well as of the transactions which led to its becoming so.

Having some years ago given in this place an ample description of Texas, we shall not pause upon the first part of Mr Kennedy's book, which is devoted to the "geography, natural history, and topography" of the country, farther than to remind the reader that it is a region as large as France, situated between the United States and Mexico-a vast slope of fertile and healthy prairie-land descending towards the Gulf of Mexico, and as yet only settled along the coast of that sea, between the 27th and 30th parallels of north latitude. Mr Kennedy's second book, which occupies the latter half of the first, and more than the first half of the second volume, contains a history of the country, from its being, about 1820, a neglected province of Mexico, till, having become partially settled by men from "the States," and quarrels having arisen between these and the government, it was made the scene of a horrid warfare, which lasted two years, and terminated in 1836 in a successful assertion of independence. At the time of the war, the white free population was to bring so many as a thousand armed men into the about 30,000, much scattered, and they were never able

Digges!" said the gentleman when he heard the story," why, if I am not much mistaken, I saw Digges standing at my back-door just now, as I passed to come to you. Send one of your servants to inquire if

he has not been there."

It was quite true. Digges not only had been there, but was there still, and willingly accompanied the servant to prove his identity.

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"All he knew about the matter," he said, when he was interrogated, was, that from long fasting and over fatigue, he had been seized with a sudden faintness in Ivy Lane, as he was making for the town, where he had intended to pass the night; that he did not know how long he lay there, but that, on recovering his consciousness, he had found himself strewed over with leaves and branches; and that as soon as he was able, he had got up and crawled towards the nearest houses; where, when the people rose in the morning, they had given him some breakfast; but that, missing the money out of his wallet, he had proceeded to Mr Wilkes, with the intention of asking that gentleman's advice."

Here was an end of the murder: but the imputation of the robbery might have clung to poor Mr Phipps to the end of his days, had it not been for a paper found in his room, all ready prepared for the press, wherein he detailed the circumstance of his discovering the pauper's body, the amount of money in his wallet, and all other particulars, only stating that the event happened on Wednesday morning instead of on Tuesday night. His motive was penetrated; and the poor editor escaped with no worse chastisement for his folly, than the ridicule of his neighbours, and

Santa Anna, the Mexican president, came against them with 8000 men. They seem to have fought like wild-cats. A party of a hundred and eighty-two, in the fort of Alamo, surrounded by the whole of Santa Anna's force, refused all terms, and maintained the contest for ten days, killing several hundreds of Mexicans. When at length overwhelmed, not a man asked quarter. A female, the sole survivor, relates that she ket against a host. A few months after, the Mexican saw the last of the garrison fall, while raising his musforce, 1500 strong, was attacked at San Jacinto, by seven hundred Texians, and, after a fight of eighteen minutes, were completely overcome. The fortunate capture of Santa Anna on this occasion paralysed all farther efforts of the Mexican government, which than the Texians can be from it. The flow of hardy must henceforth be in greater danger from the Texians and adventurous settlers from the States has since then been incessant, and the population is now believed to be upwards of 300,000. Mr Kennedy expresses his confident expectation that, in seven years, it will not be less than a million. Plantations are every where rising; many towns are in the process of being built; a post is in full operation throughout the vast territory; the whole machinery of a regular government exists at Austin; English law is administered in circuit towns; and treaties of commerce have tain. Against a debt of L.600,000 (the very existence been established with the Netherlands and with Briof which, by the bye, shows a confidence in the stability of the baby republic) Texas has a hundred and of which may not only be expected to clear off all infifty millions of acres of unappropriated land, the sale cumbrances, but to be the main support of government for a century to come.

The prairies of Texas, unexampled in the beauty of their natural vegetation, become, when cultivated, most favourable seats of cotton and sugar culture, as also for the rearing of Indian corn. It is confidently said, that the soil of this new country will produce 1000 lbs. of cotton for 400 of the Southern States of the Union. The sugar-cane grows to a greater height than in Louisiana, and sweetens higher up. "I have seen," says Mr Kennedy, "an estimate of the produce

Texas. By William Kennedy, Esq. 2 vols. London: R. Ĥastings. *Texas: The Rise, Progress, and Prospects of the Republic of 1841.

of sugar in a small plantation, which, notwithstanding the waste arising from very imperfect machinery, gave about 3500 lbs. to the acre. From fifty to sixty bushels per acre is the average crop of Indian corn. Tobacco and indigo grow luxuriantly, besides many other useful plants." Mr Kennedy mentions that, "in addition to iron, the utilitarian sovereign of metals, Texas possesses coal-the grand auxiliary of the arts which tend to enrich and civilise the world." But it is as an agricultural country that Texas must flourish. Her object will be to find markets for her cotton and sugar, using the ships of other countries for her commerce, and freely buying their manufactured commodities in exchange. As she can undersell the southern states of the union in the article cotton, she has only to become a producer of this article to a sufficient extent, and to induce England to become a large customer for it, in order to bring about a great change in the United States. Either the tariff-laws must give way, or the demand of the southern states for separation must become overpowering. It was evidently the policy of England to form the treaty above mentioned with Texas, as it not only opens a field for the employment of her commercial marine, but must soon demand no small quantity of British manufactures, provided that we take Texian produce in exchange. Mr Kennedy's volumes abound in striking proofs of the energy and perseverance of the Anglo-American race in colonising new and favourable soils, and in overcoming the obstacles of various kinds which rise against them in a new country. The knowledge that there were fertile lands in Texas, for which settlers were wanted, and that these lands were physically superior to their own, although settlement upon them must necessarily be attended with a host of early difficulties, and only in the long run prove advantageous, immediately brought forth from every part of the United States, but particularly from those of the south, a host of long-backed, long-headed, determined "characters," with their families; and, in an almost incredibly short space of time, Texas exhibited what we must consider as the basis or stock of a numerous, hardy, and vigorous population. The healthy bounding vitality of a people under these circumstances, contrasts singularly with the tameness and monotony of condition which form the leading marks of an old community. "Go-ahead" is the favourite phrase, and the actual leading maxim of conduct of such persons; and the result in some instances is wonderful. The port of Galveston, now the largest town in Texas, had, in 1837, but seven houses, and the arrivals at the port were about one in the month. "In May 1839, there were thirty sail of vessels in the harbour at one time; three steamers plying regularly between it and New Orleans, and the same number between it and HousA brig arrived from Boston (a voyage of 3000 miles), with 150 tons of ice, to cool the beverage of the citizens, and otherwise minister to their comfort. There were about 300 houses, sprinkled over a large surface, and a closely-packed population of more than 2000 souls. Two wharfs were in progress, and a pier and mole commenced. The public buildings, which were, as might be expected, on a small scale, were a customhouse, court-house, jail, commissariat and naval storehouse, market, magazine, armoury, arsenal, and hospital. Two hotels were in existence, and three in progress. There were three large warehouses and fifteen retail stores, six licensed taverns and coffeehouses, two printing-offices, reading-rooms, consuls', lawyers', doctors', notaries-public, and magistrates' offices; druggists', confectioners', and fruit stores, bakeries, slaughter and oyster houses, and shops occupied by carpenters, masons, painters and glaziers, cement and wooden cistern makers, turners, cabinetmakers, ship-joiners and plumbers, sailmakers and riggers, tin and sheet iron manufacturers, blacksmiths, gunsmiths and armourers, watch and trinket menders, saddle and harness makers, cordwainers, tailors, milliners and dressmakers, barbers; also boarding-houses and private houses, and several lumber yards replete with materials to build more.' Mr Kennedy adds-" As an example of the goahead' principle, I was informed that the timber of a frame-house, containing 20,000 dollars' worth of goods, had been growing in the State of Maine ninety days before."

ton.

The early immigrants into Texas from the southern states brought their slaves with them, and the practice has been continued. This has led to Texas becoming a slave-holding country, which is much to be regretted, but cannot be very readily remedied. There are not, however, above 10,000 slaves in the country, and, as their importation from Africa is prohibited, and white labour is not incompatible with the climate, it may be hoped that, in time, this blot will be removed.

Mr Kennedy makes the following remarks for the information of those proposing to settle in Texas as agriculturists :-" In the selection of land, settlers will always be more or less influenced by the habits and associations of the country they have left; therefore emigrants from a low-lying district are likely to prefer the level region of Texas, while those who have from infancy breathed the mountain air will direct their steps towards the highlands. For a similar reason, some will prefer a wooded section, and others an open or lightly-timbered prairie. For the emigrant of small capital, or the European settler unused to a warm climate and the laborious process of clearing' forestLand, the upland prairie, backed by a timbered and

perennial water-course, offers by far the most eligible location.'

To hew out a farm from the heart of the primeval forest is a ponderous and life-consuming task, even for the American backwoodsman, accustomed to wield the axe from boyhood, and to trust for subsistence to the unerring rifle. If the same process be performed on an extensive scale, by the aid of hired labour, the expense of clearing frequently exceeds the value of the land when cleared. To all these drawbacks must be added the diseases incidental to a residence amidst the shades of the newly opened forest, where the vegetable accumulations of ages are suddenly exposed to the beams of a scorching sun, and where heaps of levelled timber are left to rot upon the ground. There the atmosphere is inevitably tainted with noxious exhalations, which soon blanch the ruddiest cheek and palsy the most vigorous arm.

On the prairies, nature has prepared the soil for the husbandman, who has only to enclose his farm and insert the ploughshare, which there encounters no obstacle. The labour of cultivation is consequently easy. A heavy plough and a strong team are required the first year, to break up the tough sward and turn over the soil. The Indian corn is dropped in the furrows and covered with a hoe, which, with an occasional light ploughing to clear away the weeds, is the only labour bestowed upon it, until it is fit to gather. It must be understood, however, that the crop raised in this manner will not reach an average quantity, although it arrives very opportunely to meet the necessities of the settler. By turning the grass down, exposing the roots to the sun, and leaving the soil undisturbed, the sward becomes mellowed in a single season, and, while undergoing the process of decomposition, affords nourishment to the growing corn. In the ensuing spring, the roots of the wild grass are completely rotted, and the plough passes through a rich light mould, fit for all the purposes of husbandry. The ordinary operations of farming may now be conducted in the usual way, and the labour of cultivating a light soil, unincumbered with rocks or stumps, is so trifling that the farmer has sufficient time to improve his land and buildings. On a level plain of rich mould, the plough may be managed by a stripling; on newly-cleared timber-lands, it requires strength and skill, the share must be sharpened frequently, and is often broken, and, at the best, the work advances slowly. The superior facility of working open land, the saving in the wear of farming implements, the economy of time, and, of course, the greater degree of certainty in the farmer's calculations, with the comparative exemption from local disease, give a pre-eminence to the prairie over the timbered land not to be materially reduced by any inconvenience that may be occasioned by an inadequate supply of wood. It would be sounder economy for a farmer to settle in the midst of a prairie, and draw his fuel and fence-wood five miles, than to undertake the clearing of a farm in the forest. According to an experienced American authority, the agriculturists of Illinois have become aware of the fact, and there have been numerous instances of farmers in that rich and improving state, who, having purchased a small piece of woodland for its timber, have selected their farms at a distance, on the prairie. Supposing the soil of both to be of equal quality, a labourer can cultivate two-thirds more of prairie than of timbered land; the returns are larger, and the capital to be invested less. The soil of the rolling prairies of Texas is a deep black loam mixed with sand in various proportions-not certainly so rich as the timbered alluvions of the Brazos, which have a soil formed by the decomposition of vegetable matter to the depth of more than ten feet-but valuable for all the purposes of agriculture as well as for grazing. With wood, water, a boundless range for stock of all descriptions, a propitious climate, and fertile plains free from the obstruction of timber or stone, what can the husbandman desire more?"

We are introduced by Mr Kennedy to a very remarkable natural wonder. "Marine fossil remains, and silicious petrifactions, are found in different parts of the country. In the middle and northern sections of the district lying between the Trinity and Neches rivers, great numbers of petrified post oak lie imbedded in the soil, some in a horizontal position, but the larger portion nearly upright, with an inclination towards the north. They are extremely hard, giving fire to steel; generally of a light grey or reddish brown colour, and present distinctly the form of the trunk of the post oak, even to the knots. Near the head of the Pasigono River,' according to a late Topographical Description of Texas, 'is the celebrated petrified forest, which has attracted so much attention from naturalists. Here is a forest of several hundred acres of trees standing, which are turned to stone. This is a plain contradiction to the theory which has heretofore existed on the subject of petrifaction. The doctrine of submergation being required to produce petrifaction, is entirely disproved. Petrifactions which exist in many parts of this country show evident marks of recent formation. Trees which are growing are sometimes partially changed to stone.' Minute examination will, I apprehend, deprive this stone forest of much of its marvellous pretensions, which are doubtless owing to silicious springs, or the rapid formation of incrusting concretionary limestone, which readily moulds itself to the shape of a foreign body. The deposits from calcareous springs form equally on vegetable substances, on stones, metals, wood, or lead."

One reference to the zoology of the country-" Wild horses, or mustangs, as they are called by the Mexicans, are numerous in the northern prairies and the western sections of Texas, where they keep ahead of population. They are seldom large or heavy, but show blood, are well proportioned, hardy, active, and docile, if caught young. They are generally about thirteen hands high, and of all colours, though piebald, light brown, chestnut, and dun prevail. These animals are the descendants of Barbary horses introduced into the New World by the Spaniards, and set at large on the abundant pastures, where they have multiplied amazingly. They are ridden, hunted, and, in times of scarcity, eaten by the wild Indians of the Mexican frontier. There are two modes of catching them-by noosing them with a cord made of twisted strips of raw hide, attached to a long pole, and called the lazo, and by surrounding and driving them into pens prepared for their reception. The appearance of the wild horse in his Texian pastures has been graphically sketched by an eye-witness :- We rode through beds of sunflowers, miles in extent, their dark seedy centres and radiating yellow leaves following the sun through the day from east to west, and drooping when the shadows fell over them. These were sometimes beautifully varied with a delicate flower, of an azure tint, yielding no perfume, but forming a pleasant contrast to the bright yellow of the sunflower. About half-past ten we discerned a creature in motion at an immense distance, and instantly started in pursuit. Fifteen minutes' riding brought us near enough to discover, by its fleetness, that it could not be a buffalo, yet it was too large for an antelope or deer. On we went, and soon distinguished the erect head, the flowing mane, and the beautiful proportions of the wild horse of the prairie. He saw us, and sped away with an arrowy fleetness till he gained a distant eminence, when he turned to gaze at us, and suffered us to approach within four hundred yards, when he bounded away again in another direction, with a graceful velocity delightful to behold. We paused-for, to pursue him with a view to capture was clearly out of the question. When he discovered we were not following him, he also paused, and now seemed to be inspired with curiosity equal to our own, for, after making a slight turn, he came nearer, until we could distinguish the inquiring expression of his clear, bright eye, and the quick curl of his inflated nostrils.

We had no hopes of catching, and did not wish to kill him, but our curiosity led us to approach him slowly. We had not advanced far before he moved away, and, circling round, approached on the other side. It was a beautiful animal-a sorrel, with jet black mane and tail. As he moved, we could see the muscles quiver in his glossy limbs; and when, half playfully and half in fright, he tossed his flowing mane in the air, and flourished his long silky tail, our admiration knew no bounds, and we longed-hopelessly, vexatiously longed-to possess him. We might have shot him where we stood; but, had we been starving, we could scarcely have done it. He was free, and we loved him for the very possession of that liberty we longed to take from him; but we would not kill him. We fired a rifle over his head: he heard the shot and the whiz of the ball, and away he went, disappearing in the next hollow, showing himself again as he crossed the distant ridges, still seeming smaller, until he faded away to a speck on the far horizon's verge.'

We conclude by earnestly recommending Mr Kennedy's work, as a full and to all appearance faithful and judicious account of Texas, in which character it appears to us qualified not more to yield useful information to those who may have to form connexions with the country, than to enlighten and entertain those general readers who only regard it as a curious problem in the history of our species.

MITCHELL'S SCREW-PILE LIGHT-HOUSESSAFETY BEACONS ON SAND-BANKS.

[From the Dundee Warder.] AMONG the mechanical inventions of late years, none are so eminently entitled to the serious attention of the government and the public as those which have for their object the preservation of human life. Among these may be particularly enumerated various improvements on the life-boat, Denham and Manby's safety apparatus, and Mitchell's screw-pile, affording a firm foundation for light-houses and safety beacons, on dangerous shoals and banks, however treacherous and shifting the nature of the bottom. The latter invention has completely overthrown the time-consecrated theory of the instability of a "house built upon the sand;" for, by its aid, houses taking root, as it were, in the mere sand, now rear their summits high above the waters, on which the storms may descend, and the waves beat, for a thousand years, without injuring the fabric. Of the immense annual sacrifice of human life on our shores from shipwreck, a very large proportion may be attributed to the want of light-houses in proper situations. It is by no means sufficient for the protection of the thousands of vessels employed in the commerce of this great maritime nation, that beacons should point out the sunken rocks and hidden shoals around the coast, where shipwrecks have been most frequent. It is not sufficient that life-boats should be stationed along the sea-board, at points, in many cases, ten or fifteen miles apart. More vessels, on an average, are lost yearly on bars and banks at the entrance to har