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POI? RY.

- side of the picture. Master mechanics are not all selfish,

‘ kindness will be manifest in hisactions—Sucb an apprentice

« Were not too proud to learn trades, and to labour with their

' ticeship, turns _ dozen among those who had no regular employment, and whose hands were once constdered too delicate to be soiled

[Fen rim Cononul. Hanan} THE HIDDEN" TREASURE.

Wlicnjglorious Britain, long ago, Her (.‘nn ’ring banner spread, \Vbich, a or a dying Hero's“ brow, A deathless lustre shed ;

I‘he Frenchmen left this Isle for France, So'loyal to their Crown,

Intending to return, perchsnce,

If Britain‘s (lag came down.

But Britain's flag, in war or peace, Floats highest on the breeze ;

And long may slid sustain her place, As Empress of the seas !

But to my tale—Futurity ‘ (All prevcs poor mortals blind ;

The Frenchmen look themselves away, But lclt their wealth behind.

Fearing some British Cruiser bold,

0r greedy Privateer,

Might ransaclr in the Frenchman’s bold, And find their treasure there;

So, deep beneath some granite stone, Hen scattered, strangely gray,

Old Parlcz-mrus, unseen, alone,

Hid many a put away !

Or, where some weather-beaten tree, \Vitlt antique boughs o’erspread, Has stand a second century,

And cast its frightful shade;

0r, near some spring, that always boils—- A mark forever sure—

Tliey hid the fruit of all their toils,

But never saw it more.

For Britain’s flag, with honour bright, Still flutters on the breeze,

And still does she tnaintain her right, As Empress of the seas.

In “ unsunn'd heaps” these treasures lay, ‘Vhile years on years roll round;

Near spring, or tree, or granite gray,

But never can be found.

Now endless are the stories told, Ofstrange phenomena!

That, from the silver and the gold, Scare Mammou’s sons away.

Some say—at times, on old gray stones, Strange forms appear to dance! Suppos'd the shades of men Whose bones Arc mouldcring in Franco !

And uncouth lights are sometimes seen, By cellar, stream, or bog,

As livid as the uncertain gleam Uflight-honse in a fog.

The daring Wight w ho aims to dig,

A strange sensation feels,

iacli conscious hair seems bristling big, At something near his heels!

Despite ofall—a blue-nosed hand, Moved by successive dreams,

Have reached our Isle, to dig its land, And search about its streams;

\Vitb min’ral’ rod, and purses broad, Ut‘most enormous size—

'l‘hc first, to point the golden road, The lost, to hold the prize!

They fear no light that shines by night, No meagre, dancing shade,

Their fathers never fled in fight,

From living Frenchman's blade E

lfthey succeed by Fortune’s will, ‘ \Ve Islanders may say,

How dotliese Novuseotians still

Extract the cash away l

But when supplied is all their need, Ifauglit they have to spare,

Ma they remit the poet's meed— He ll with the printer share!

Princetown Academy, August 26th, 1842.

.—

’ \‘Volfc.

(From the Bangor Ccmrier.)

APPRENTICES. ' We recommend the following remarks to the attention of our readers, and particularly to that class oftliern for whom it was particularly designed. The situation of an appren- tice Is one worthy and honorable: much more so than they are apt to imagine. The way to secure contentment and happiness during the years of apprenticeship is very clearly painted out—it is by the apprentice manifesting it kind disposition and becoming interested in the welfare of his master, which for the time being should be considered his own. The moment an apprentice sets up an opposition to his master, and establishes an interest of his own, he be- comes discontented ntid unhappy. He finds cause in the slightest_ circumstances for complaint. Nothing seems to satiety him, until food, clothing, employment and treatment become unsatisfactory, and a pack ofcvil spirits are admit- ted into his heart and keep up their infernal orgies until his whole mind and disposition are poisoned, and his tnauner becomes disgusting and his example pestilential. In this case be either leaves his master or grows up a morose, turbu- lent boy, and becomes an unhappy and uncomfortable man. We hope there are lbw such, and that the number is dimin- ishing, especially under such appropriate sugvestions as the following, treat the Portland Tribune :— a “For a youth to look forward some five, six or seven years, before he shall be able to do much for himself, we con— tess, is rather discouraging, and would naturally lead to some other pursuit than learning the mysteries ofn trade. Years of totl,.'ot hardship, perhaps, and deprivation of many blessings wluch the youth has enjoyed beneath the parental root, is apt at once to balance the mind in favour of a clerk- ship, or some other bisiness which is thought to be less la- borious but equally as profitable. V This is only the dark

all tyrannical; with few exceptions, We believe them to be worthy and honorable men, and equally solicitons for the welfare of their apprentice—to inculcate precepts of mo- rality—asthey pre to se‘Lye their labour. When a boy pos- sesses a kind disposition, ‘nd isinterested in his work, and uses his endeavours to prbmote the interests of his master we shall never find such a‘ youth discontented. His employer" feels a deep interest iii his welfare, and though it may not be made manifest to the apprentice, he is constantly studying his happiness. A youth so situated never need to be on- happy, and consider himself deprived of more favours than those who are indifferent situations. If integrity of charac. ter and honesty of purpose have thus early begun to characterize him, he can in a great measure not his own pleasure: for his master will have no fears, whether present or absent, that every thing will go right. A confidence will be reposed in him that cannot be shaken, while love and

sees no unhappy days,—-Well provided for his comfort, time passes pleasantly away. When his term of apprenticeship expires, he has acquired that which will insure him a com- fortable living, and by prudence arid industry, may lead to wealth and independence. Above all, he has a good charac- ter, which must be his passport to favor,—a blessing which has never tailed to bring to its possessor the richestinheri- tance conferred on man. *

Of those young inert who look upon the life of an appren- tice as far beneath their dignity, we would inquire—Who have done the most for society and the world? Who are the first to undertake public improvements, and carry them on to perfection ? Who are our most talented and influen- tial,,not to say most wealthy men? Generally those who

actually die of starvation. . an incorrigible loafer, and consummate spongcr of working

hands. Where one man, who has served a regular appren-

out a villain or a Vagabond, you win find a

bv labor. Who are now moping away their existence about oiir streets, with nothing to do, and yet are ashamed or are too lazy to work? —children of wealthy parents, perhaps, who have expended

Those who were once clerks or students

and tens of thousands oti their and

thousands on their follies, vices; who have thereby become reduced themselves,

. their children, unless taken pity upon byonce poor but new

independent t'uechanics, must be sent to the poor house, or We have in our mind’s eye many

men’s effects, who, brought up to look with disgust on labor,

is now a pest to all who know him——a Vagabond aiid a villain.

We look upon many who are now just starting into the world, who think more of dress and appearance than the

track, will turn out little better than nuisances to society. They abhor work—they detest a good tra

for the morrow, or a care for their future destiny. But there

nor and glory. They are apprentices. Though now looked

tempt, they

noble and generous in these youths—an active, highminded f purpose, that we cannot but respect and love them We feel there is something in their natures highly commendable, and we are satisfied it will ere longr shine forth iii brilliaucy and power. They will be the stay and support ofottr rc- publlc; the melt of standing and independence, when the actors of the present generation have passed away. Let us cherish them with care. and implant in their minds the seeds ofjustice, of truth, and of honor, and when they come to set their part on the slippery stage oflife, their deeds will redound to the glory and honor ofthese who trained them to virtue and glory.

THE BISHOP AND 'rt-ir: Bucxsm'rn.—At the last ordina- tion in Auckland Castle, one ofthe successful candidates was Mr. Blythe Hurst, till lately a blacksmith, in the village of \Vinlatou, Durham. How this bumble artisan has come to be an ordained clergyman of the Church ot'England, will be best understood by the perusal ofan extract tion] the Gatcshead Obscrvcr of Saturday week. Our contemporary reports the proceedings ofa dinner given at Stella, on the 'thh inst. to M. W. Dunn, Esq, of l‘ledgefield, on his resig- nation of the office ofagent to Peregrine Edward 'l‘ownley, Esq., (both gentlemen being members ofthe Roman Catholic Church; )aud in the report we fitid the following :— “ Mr. Joseph Laycock, of \Vinlaton, received a. warm wel- come in rising to propose “The Bishop and Clergy of the Diocese ot’Durham.” Many oftliem, be said, might consci- entiously diffdr on the subject of bishops, and their large in— comes, but he was sure they were all agreed that the Bishop of Durham faithfully discharged the duties of his steward- ship; and however much some of'tbem might dispute the propriety of a system which placed great Wealth in the hands ofthe Church of England prelates, there was not one of them but would admit that Dr. Maltby used his princely revenues as a sacred trust, to be applied in works of charity and religion. (Applause) His desire, his sole desire, was to do good. There was now iii the village of \Vinlatou a striking and interesting proof of the bishop’s benevolence— a man whom the right rev. prelatc had raised from the low- est rank ofthe workmen of VViulaton, to the station of an ordained clergyman ofthe Church ofEugland. (Applause) The individual to whom he referred was a nativeof Winla- ton, atid was put to the trade ofa blacksmith at the early age of seven years. At that time he had received little educa- tion. He could read the scriptures, but coitld write only imperfectly. After he went to trade he attended a Sunday- school, (Archdeacon Thorp’s,) Where he made some pro- ress. Writing, however, was not taught in the school. When he had entered his teens his mind was directed to the study oflanguages, b‘éginuing with his own. Afterwards he acquired six others, viz: Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Arabic, Syriac, and French. A few years ago a missionary made his appearance in the village, to disseminate the damuable doctrines of Socialism, trusting, no doubt, to the Well-known readiness ofthe villagers to patronise whatever was new and good. (Laughton) The friends ofthe learned blacksmith, Mr. Blythe Hurst, pressed him to deliver lectures in reply to the Socialist. This he declined, but he wrote a book, enti- tled Christianity no Pliestcraft, and had it printed and pub- lished. The worthy rector of Winlnton, Mr. Wardell, on- closed a copy ofthe pamphlet to the Bishop ofDurham, as the work ofa common tnan, a labouring blacksmith. The bishop wrote back, expressing the great sutistaciiou witg which he had read the book, and observed that it might b written by a common man, but it was the produetion of no common mind, and he was anxious to receive sortie further particulars of the author’s life. These were not mere words ofcompliment. The bishop was in earnest, and wrote to Mr. Douglas, the rector of \Vickham, wishing him to see Mr, Hurst, and ascertain his ability to make a ready appli- cation of his acquxrcments. Mr. Douglas visited him, and lound him toiling the whole day long to support his familv. He pursued his studies while at work, having his lessons on his “flame stone”—(a stone suspended before the eyes of the workman to protect them from the flames.) Mr. Doug- las conversed with him, and subsequently made a report to the bishop. His lordship next wrote to Mr. Davis, the rector of Gateshead, on the subject of Mr. Hurst. Mr. Davis visited lllr. H. at \Vinlaton, and stated the result in a letter to the bishop. Dr. _Maltby afterwards corresponded with Mr. Hurstmnd advrsed lnm as to his course ol'reading, recommend. mg to his attention the most suitable books. His lordship (mark his liberality!) did more than this ; he enclosed Mr. litrst the means of following out his recommendations. (Loud applause.) He also wrote to Mr. Collinsun, the late rector of Gateshcad, who, like the “Good Samaritan,” as he had always been, invited Mr. Hurst to his house, and also Mr: Hurtss daughter.’ Collinson saw that the black- smith _Was about to rise from his obscure station, and he was kindly anxrous to prepare both him and his family for tqlie new sphere of life on which they were shortly to enter. creme time afterwards, the bishop having occasion to visit Newcastle, hada personal interview with Mr. llurst,and arrangements were then made for his ordination. When the tune for this ceremony was at hand, Mr. Hurst received a kmd letter fi'om Auckland Castle, intimating that apartments had been provuled for his accommodation. His lordship also presented him with a silk gown, through Mr. \Vardell. On Thursday the 7th inst. Mr. Hurst proceeded to Auck- land ; and he (Mr..Lnycock) had received a letter, communi- cating some particulars ofhis reception. Front this letter he would read an extract:—

.“ Mr. Hurst passed his examination with great credit to himself, and much to the satisfaction of his examiner.

notice of Mr. Hurst. On Saturday, as is customary all those to be ordained dined with the Bishop. The Bishop on looking round the drawing-room for Mr. H. found tha’t he was at the Opposite end. He asked him to come to him, and went and met bun—took his arm—and introduced him to hire. Maltby and all the ladies. When they met in the dining-room, he said, ‘You must come and sit beside me.’ l‘hen he was sat with the bishop on one side, and Arch-

deacon Raymond ou the other; and the saute way on Sunday, at lunch.”

his examination. and the bishop’s kindness extended also

day,) Mr. Hurst had returned to his native‘villuge an ar- dained clergyman ofthe Church ofEngland; and he would shortly, through the bishop’s patronage, enter upon his mi. nisterial duties as curate of Garrigill, near Alston. (Cheers.) The villagers, as a tarewoll token oftheir esteem and re- spect, were now providing a purse of gold, to be present-

t

ed to Mr. Hurst on his removal to his curacy.”

means ofan honest livelihood, who, unless they change their

de—wliile their piginy minds revel on the surface offusliiot), With no thought

are others, whose honest countenances and noble hearts be- tray a loveliness ofcharacter which shall be their luturc ho-

tipoti with suspicion by the former, and passed by with con-

will by and by take a stand in society as furl above these butterfly devotees of fashion, as they now seem in folly’s eye to be beneath them. There 13 something so ,

the Boston Tran- M d “at the bel- and

REWARD or Eureka—The Editor d1 n \scrt'pt, an old and mus; approlvp'd gpgim‘iaamuny kicks ‘ ' ’ ' ' re a ton _ lows” talks like a boo It]. . . h ' u .h” vtlie few coppers the fiaterntty pditortal get in their p i‘ ' ' r um :—- ' rue thtou h life. ust bea . so dalch yknow {inf tio class ofthe commttfpttykfrorqgglggpture

' ' ~ valence ant t an ess much disinteiested benc . _ . T, are expec_ ' ' 'tors of newapapets. icy . expected as from edt ‘ ' _ _ .orrect pumlc ‘ ' - but themselves, to c ted to feel for eveiy one . _ I fi‘ 06. to sus- -' lso Without givmg 0 en , abuses and private ones a ‘ I I ‘d their own . ' ‘ ' ' thers Withouttegat to , tain the difficulties of o . d one ‘ r r - of evetv one an no , outlemn no man measures ' ' . if: the same timer? ’ll‘liey are expected tolnpttce (iiyerytt‘langig ' ' ' ' ' ~ ’rlinarv notWIt istant mg I - that is impoitant 0| extinct . v, . b mourned ' ‘ ' ——tlietr notice must e c. . versity of men’s opinions . d t we same fiend every one, an a to please every one, to o _ d . me the ' ' ’ cted to gttatd an ptom , time no one. They ate cape _ I intefest of every one but themselves, and to live tpetnysletltg‘gsli upon air. They are expected to labour day anc nia'icm-d the promotion of the public interest; ‘whiletheyggafio with others in opinion, a naked cxpressron of appronsma- mav be bestowed upon them, and even that poor c tiofi is often withheld from them. . t ' r e servt tnde modem, and at the same tun manlthev meet. They are expected to be honest and 933;; iii the «Expression of their opmton of public nieasmes. at the same time to condemn everything and appto fl ’ everything. Ifthey are industrious in tlietryocatton, icy (are dangerous fireb‘ands; if they write nothing, i H b?- stupid drones, who are unworthy of support, and 5 ion t .

“The bishop was particularly kind, and took especial

“Thus honourany and pleasantly did Mr. Hurst pass

to paying the fees. (Applause) On this very day, (Tues_

take themselves to the shovel or hoe for a living. should they be active and industrious, should their be approved of, and should they succ . ' ‘ oftt particular object, those who have been intet‘cs 8 success ofthe object may rejotce m'ihat' ‘suc‘ceSs,fils are a” must not reap any advantage from it. .I lie ieiie r ' reserved for other bands, and others, top, who, if they have not at one time or other been engaged in doing every tilting“ in their power to oppose or retard the aceompltslptietk 0d, that object, have at least done notlunLr to. promote it. n . after yours of unabated toil and tinr‘eastng difficulty, editor" should chance to err in the judgment of others, ‘ meets no indulgence. His innocent expresstons are cute- titllv collected, anti, after having been metamorp ' transformed into n'thousatid shapes and figures which he never dreamed of, they are thrown into mountain clouds to threaten biin with a tempest; anti that, too, by men who wear towards him times beaming with kindness; With llO- noy anti oil upon their tongues, and with lips apparently too soft for butter to melt upon them. Like Joab, they llt- quire—~“ Art thou in health, ,my brother ?” While a deadly dancer is concealed beneath the cloak. _ iVATaapaiior COMPOSITION—A pint of linseed Oil, two ounces of bees-wax, two ounces ofturpentine, .two ounces of good tar, and half an ounce of Burgundy pitch, slowly melted together, and applied to new boots, Will render them waterproof, durable, and pliant. " Bnoan CLOTH.—“/e bear that the gentleman who lead the Ton in Bond-street and other fashionable parts ofthe metropolis, have discarded tlic sacks and rtth that have so long disfigured their persons and injured trade, and that the true test ofgentility is now fine broad cloth made to shit the varying seasons, and to give to the figure a polish and re- finement that distinguishes a beau from a drowned—Leeds JlIercurg. ' ‘ . COOKlNG BY REFLECTION—Al the Polytechnic lnstitutton, London, may be witnessed the curious operation of cooking by reflection, by which means a mutton chop is cooked at a disiance of 100 feet from the fire. “limit you find another than doing more business than yott are, and you are puzzled to know the reason, just look over' his advertisements in the newspapers. That’s all.— .dmert'can Paper.

AGRICULTUEAL.

(From the Colonic] Farmer.) Sta—l was gratified by reading a communication from Mr. N. A. Custer, of Parrsborough Rectory, in the Colonial Fat-titer for-June, treating ofthe impoverishit‘ig effects of burning,r new land for tbe'first crop. Matty years ago I had thought on this subject. lsee with regret large tracts of country, which [formerly witnessed covered with a luxuri- ant and heavy crop oftimber, now reduced nearly to a bar— ren, the soil of which will produce little else than stunted bushes and weeds. The cause ofthis'desolating change is easy to account for, on philosophical principles._ The por- tions oflatid here alluded to were exposed to the violent hurricanes which formerly visited this country, one in the year 1798, and another at a later period, which laid prostrate the whole ofthe timber thereon. Here were accumulated the vegetation oftwo or three hundred years, in the shape of timber, undergrowth, roots, moss, &c. Thus we may suppose that every particle ot'vegetahle food, consisting either of carbon or salts of the various alkalies which forth

the timber had formerly penetrated. The decay ofthis mass in a year renders it highly combustible in dry seasons, anti when by accident or design it became ignited, the con- flagration Was dreadful, the intense heat of which changed the Whole mass into an acreal form, lighter than the atmos- phere; and was dispersed by the Winds caused by the high temperature created in its locality. Not only the car- boti is entirely gone, but the lime and potass, and other salts composing the ashes, were in seine places altogether, and others nearly all dissipated by the intense heat; hence bur- renness is the result.