wfiotcttc. / 9,-_,;.\. VOL. 21. IIIIA.IIIAOTTETO‘V.N‘,'..iPIIINOE EDWARD ISLAND, TUESDAY, SEP'l'ElllBl-fR9, 1851. N0. 1120. Royal Agricultural Society. PIIEM U013 ‘OR THE YEAR I851. HE “ IIOYAI. AGllICUl.'I‘UIlAL SOCII-‘.'I‘Y ” ofiisr the following l’lIB\IlU.\IS to be competed for, at the times and places. and for the objects nientioited under the several heads :— ttntttc Shows. The SIIOIV in Queertht County, to be held at CllABl..0'l“l'l- TOWN, on \Venivs:snAv, the 24th day of Septeiiiber. In King's Couitt , at ilte Iltzitn or Sr. I’ir'rnrt‘I BAY. 0" Fntnav, the 26th tfity of September. In Prince County, near tlte CHURCH at Prtttscerownt 0|! Tunsrutir. the slim day of Septeiitber. r-nnsitnss : d . best yearling Bull 0: Ileifer, from the Ayrshire Bulls imported in I849, II‘ For best Entire Blood Colt. fouled in I349. £3 ” 0 Id do. do. do. I 0 0 best Blood Filly. do. 2 0 0 241 do. do. _ I 0 9 best Entire Crilt. for Ag'cltrl. purposes, fouled in 1849, 2 0 0 1d best do. do. 40- I 0 0 bertt. Filly, do. do. ‘I 0 0 2d best do. do. do. I 0 0 best Ilitll, calvod in 1840, 2 0 0 2d best do. u. 1 0 0 best Ileifer, do. 2 0 0 2d heart do. 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 best Calf. from do. do. or from the Ilcifers imported in 1850, ’ 1 best Itniit, under 3 years old, (Lambs excluded.) 2 ‘Id best (I0. do. _ d0- I beat pen of 8 Ewe Tegs, (Yearltng‘s) 2 Id best do. do. d0- 1 IIGULA'l'IONI2 The Colts and I-‘illies to be Island bred. No imported Stock allowed to coriipete. . _ No animal, having formerly obtained a first prize, will he al} lowed to compete. _ No animal to compete lirr more than one prize. . No competitor to exhibit more than the required number of ant rails in each class. _ No Prize to be awarded, unless there be at least three coinpetrtors in each class. No person will he allowed to exhibit stock for corripetition, unless he be a rnemher of the Branch Society estublislted in the County in which the Show is lteld. _ . 'I'he Contiriittee will feel obliged, if persons. ltaviiig Stock of II superior description, would send the satire to tlte Show, ttltltotigli they run not be of the classes for which I'r_eiiiinins are ofI'r~.red—- for whic purpose suitable ncconiniodatioits will be provided. Plonglting Matches Will be held in Queen's County, on Tlirrrrrltry, the 9th October; and in King's County and in Prince County, on the §:IIIlP day itrtd at the same plttce its the Cattle Shows. when the following I'rtt:aaiUns will be awarded :- First Prize, £3 0 0 Second do. 2 0 0 Third do. I 0 0 Fourth do. 0 10 0 Fields of Grain and Turttips. For the best 2 acres of Wheat. - £2 0 0 2d best do. do. 1 0 0 best 2 acres of two-rowed Barley, ‘I 0 0 2d best do. do. I 0 0 best 1 acre of Indian Corn. 3 0 0 24! best do. do. 2 0 0 best Q acre of Swede Turnips, 3 0 0 2d best do. do. 2 0 0 ’ best I acre of Yellow Bullock do.. 2 0 0 2d best do. do I 0 0 The Tumips to be inspectird during the last week in October, for which purpose one Inspector will be appointed for each County, by the Committee in Charlottetown, to act in coitjutictiort with two ap- pointed by each Branch. Industrial Exhibition. _ Art Exhibition of domestic manufactures and agricultural protIuc- tions, will be held in Charlottetown, on \Vs:nntri:rin1tv . the 5th of Noveinbcr, when I’remiutns for the undermerttiotied articles will be distributed. viz:— I"or best 10 yards Grey Ilontespulfi 10 do. Shepherd's Plaid, 0 0 10 do. d 'ad and dressed, I 0 0 10 do. 'Iwi|led Flannel, 0 I0 0 10 do. litirt do. 0 I0 0 to do. nugget. 0 10 0 piece of Carpeting, not less than 20 ynrds, 2 0 0 iir ofllorse Rugs. not less tltnn 2 yards square, I 0 0 VVoollen I’laid Shawl, 0 I0 I) do. do. Scarf. 0 I0 0 do. While Shawl. 0 I0 0 pair of thick knit woollen Stockings, for overalls, 0 5 0 3 pair of woollen Socks, 0 5 0 I do. do. Gloves, 0 5 0 I do. do. Mittens, 0 3 0 .incn Table Cloth, 0 I0 0 ralf-dozen I.inen Towels. _ 0 10 0 3 Linen Sticks, capable of holding 4 busltels each, I 0 0 "onuet, made frotii Grass Plait, 0 I0 0 at, do. do. 0 5 0 8 Sheepskin Mats, dyed and dressed. 0 15 0 Chop ting Axe, _0 5 0 IIiiy ork, 0 5 0 Dung Fork, 0 6 0 AGRICULTURAL PRODUCTS. For best Tub of Butter, not less than 80lb. weight, £0 10 0 Do. Cheese, do. 20lb. weight. 0 I0 0 Do. ] dozen Swede Tami » 0 3 0 Do. do. Carrots for 'I able. 0 3 0 Do. do. Roots of Blood Beet, 0 3 0 Ito. do. Roots of Msngel Wurtzel, 0 8 0 Do. do. Prtrsnips, 0 3 0 Do. do. Cabbsgcs, 0 3 0 Do. do. Pumpkins, 0 3 0 Do. do. Ears of Indian Corn, 0 8 0 Do. do. Applet. 0 3 0 Do. do. Onions, 0 8 0 Manure Heaps. The Committee being desirous to see introduced among Farmers, u better system of ssvi and collecting Manurss, and particularly as regards the preservation of the liquid manure, offer the follow- ing Premiums to be contpstsd for, separately in such of the three Counties. namely _ _ To the person who shall have adopted, and has in practice, the best system for the attainment of the above object:— First Prize. ‘5 0 0 Second do. 3 0 0 Third do. 1 0 0 In awarding the Premiums. great consideration will be given by the Judges to the cltsupnsss of the coritrioanccs adopted, as also to the means in use for a daily cleaning out of the Stables. &c., and the loading of the vehicles when Itlllllnfi out the Manure to the field, so as to ensure eeonotri of labor as we as nianure—t'or triforrnstion on whlnh subject. the ornrnittisu beg to refer intendi competitors to a small pamphlet, sntitlsd "Hints to Farmers." by udgs Peters. _ The names of cetapstitors to be intimated to the Secretary of the Society at Charlottetown, and to the Secretaries of the Branches at Georgetown and It. Ilsuusr’s, on or before the lat day of‘ August i.astt tlts laspsstlansstsbs plsssatsastttlrns ssnisy be deemed advisable by tbs countries at such ofthe abovs plsoss. “ Tbs Pt-anions is be awards! h the filisrtllotirous. TIII-I DESIGN OI" OUR. LIFE. 'I‘h3 II‘:-lg?) of our life '—'tI’|3 lll'|I it should be so little‘ thought of! 'l‘lt-i vury words scent to awaken it new idea, to open up It new vista. to surprise us in it manner by their urifrtrrtiliurity, con- trusted with their rrt tiiifusi iir.-rtrness to our interests. dirty and des- linv. 'I‘l|~tV fill like it reproach upon our vvrirldlinesu from an u per sphere, calling us back frottt the outward and the earthly. itn re- niiii liri; its thit there is itoviiething better and vvortltier tltun these. It will be well if such Sllilll be the practical result of our present lllf§IIliIlIlI.I2 such is its aim. We would disowrt for it ti-ns the ac- tzi I:!lIl‘|l and the p:issiir,v—tlir: transient peculiarities which consti- trite t'ie rritiru driip try of ottr being -that we may the in are catlinly ciittc'tipl.ito the great ttn.l the uaiv-.ir.~iil, nrtd liy thus lurking at ilItl'1~:lVt.'< :irr.l our fellows in the light of these higher and wider re- l-itiirts which hive their roots in the soul, rind which pass into the iritirtite, we in iy take the likeliest course for reconciling ourselves to ourselves_ to one iiiioiher, and to the world without, while we iihztll, by the very fact oftlwelling upon them, be strengthening and tI'l1ltItIlu_'; IIII tlirt is most glorious distinctive of huiitaitity in titan. Wltrtt is oitr life? iitys an inspired writer: " It is even a vapor tli it rtppsnretli for :| little IIiIl'!. and then vrinisheth away.” And yet this v up itir-life litis for its trophies all tlrit is great and imposing iii the wirrl-I——te.:tples. and cities. rttid palaces, and kingdoms-all thztt is useful in science, all thit is profound irt philosophy, all that is grertt and lreauiifiil itt art ; atitl all these have been fostered under its wing. and are the footprints which it his Iefl. on the sands of time. Nay, btit this vapour-life is litden with eternity ; this meteor fltsli, every time tlt:it it is kindled, lights an ittitriortal spirit to liri.t\'eii or hell : it fires destiny, it dcterinines rt course of endless progmssio.i upwards among the stars, or of endless sinking rind diveigoirco into .1 deeper gloom than lirooded over the rirnttl chaos. So tlt:tt the trial of Soloiitori was no solitttry crise.— ife holds the bnlitrice to eviiry man ; the good that is p using and perislitihle in the one smile, the wisdo:it wlti-alt is all erttbrrtciitg and iinperishnhle in the other, and death steps in only as the rtttifier of the choice, while eternity is the endless unfolding of the fruit. Wh;tt shrill we say then.’ \Vrts the apostle in jest! \Vus he seeking to depreciate this great seed-time of our existence? Nziy, verily, but rather he would rebuke the presumption and the full ivliiclt. by rcfusirtg to contract it with the eternity beyond, makes it the palace of the body intlecrl, but the prison of the soul, destined to open at .-t trio-nent, they tliirik, not into the for-sounding depths of rain and despair. \V:is it not something ofa kindred feeling which urged the excla- tiiittioii from the l.ing—" \Vhercl'itre has then made all men in vain ?" vtllll, indeed. if money be his object rind plonsurt: his re- ward. Vain would be the eye and the wing to the eagle, if he were never to rise above the shitty things of the earth ; niid vziin would be that eye of rensott in man, and those wings of itttelligence—inta- gittati-in ritid fiiit|t—by which he can look " before and after," re- coitiioire the iiiiiverse, rtrid sttstairt himself in the contemplation of the Iiifiiiito—-ifsettse is to be bi world, and matter his god, rind the sepulcltrc his goal. 'l‘lirtt “ the spirit ofrt titan goeth upward,” is written on its very constitution. But the world denies it : it grovels iii the dust instead of soaring to the sun: itntl with his practir-nl denial meeting him everywhere, can we wonder at the itiorneritary ricepticisiir of the holy seer—“ Wherefore ltas thou made all inert iu vitirt ."’ Not less alien from the truth, and not less suggestive ofilie psalm- ist’s question. are the doctrines of chance on the one hand. and the drentps of puntheisrn. ancient and modern. on the other. By the first, 'we are taught that tnan is the pltiything of circurttstrtrices, tossed for it little hither and thither, now in sunshine, now in shade, on tlte current of events lawless as ltirtiself, rind passing itwity we know not whither, even as l:e catne we know not whrrncc ; while, by the second. we are compensated for the loss of individual itri ort- urice, .esponsihility and will, by the fantastic assumption o one Great Spirit underlying the universe, projecting into the region of the actual. the riienibers of our race, who are again to be absorbed irtto the meat essenc in process of time. There is thus the scep- ticistn o a triatorialiscd spiritualism on the one side, and of an at- teriuatcd materialism on the other. Ilotlt are at war with the dignity of man ; both are as death to his aspirations and hopes ; both are subversive of ltis individurtl life ; both lirive rt chaos before ‘ind he- liind, nitd rt painfully tangled web in the midst ; and looking at the world from either position, we are again troubled with the doubt- “ Wherefore, has then mavle all rrien in viiiit ?" It seeitis tiliuiiduritly plain, that, if two are to understand the im- portunce of man and the design of his life, we must discard from our view all such gossaiiter thmries as these, and trike our stand on sortie central wittcli-tower of truth, so strong, that the surgings of error czirttitit tlisttirb it, and so lifted up. that the whole field of in- quiry is discernible from it ; and whither shrill we turn for such it watchtower of truth. but to the revelation of God in his \Vord? 'l'hitlier I);t\'id, wlieri perplexed, was tccuslorned to resort. Dotvn in tho pl:riri, his vision wits narrowed, and all was confusion and doubt. He could not trace forward the conflicting lines to their cornirton centre, he could not pttt till the disttierttbered fragrtretits of Providence together, so its to educe order rind unity from the whole ; brit he went to the lIl|'lf‘.It)l‘Ily, and the mist was dispelled : ltiii me- diurri wits clearer, his horizon was wider—Iie saw their ettd, and his =pirit li.-id rest. Now. looking on man from this “ coigne ofitdvnntage.” we can perceive a threefold purpose and niiti of his life. First, we can per- ceive that he hits niuclt to do with regard to hittiself. There is grid: on his conscience, diitiiiess in his eye. and weakness, rather wickediicss at his heart. Ile discovers the ruins ofa fair creation, but nothing riinre , “ the gold is become dim," the temple is dis- maritletl, and strange visitaitts within it, now haunt its shrine ; the innrk is upon him, antl his conscience might speak out soriiewhitt in the manner ofCiiin—“ It shall cotiic to pass. that wlteresoever the doorits-nittn of justice sltrill fiitd me. he shrill kill me." The first aim of his life, then, has to do with himself— how to be rid of this iritvnrd accuser, how to erase those guilt-strains which “ plrt ue him so,” Itow to find asriurottce of reconciliation to his God, that to may hold up his head in the universe, and listen to his voice speaking to hitri peace from his awful throne. This must be his first and his earliest aim, and in vain are his own sacrifices or gills. "The world, by its wisdom knew not God." Superstition may slay its thousands of victiitts, idolatry may invoke its thousands of Gods, science rttri advance its thousand appliances, and self-ri hteourittess may “ wzisli itself ever so clean,” the groans of huniuittty are still as deep, its wounds are as wide as ever they were. The curse is httnian, but the cure is divine ; and the first aim ofour life must be fulfilled at the cross. But this is no more than the beginning of the work. IIe has his foot upon the rock now, which alone can be trusted. He is now within the scope of the great central attraction, and in contact with all that is destructive of evil, and most influential for good.—Cleav- ing to that. he must reach forward and upward, strengthening his heart in all holy affections, opening his mind to the fulncss of truth, guarding his passions with a stern and uncompromising denial, and building himself up into the likeness of Him whose temple he is. He is safe in his highest uspirntions here, he has entered into the only legitimate sphere for a boundless ambition ;nnd with Christ for his pnttern. perfection for his aim, and heaven for his crown, he must gird himself for the battle in nll the lowliness of dependence. but with the energy of despair, as knowing well that the work is great, that " The heavens are steep, and hell is deep, And the gates of life are hard to win." This must be the first great aim of our lifs—individusl emancipa- tion from the guilt and the tyranny of evil. Nothing can be a sub- stitute for this: itis the necessrtr condition of‘a|l other great and enerous aims. We should be ound but silly uildsrs without it, or, says an apostle " Let every man prove h _own work, and so shall he have rejoicing. in himself alone, and in another.” Looking at man. i err. in his-isolated as t. we so , that one great design of his life is to wrestle, and r’ to be moving heaven- wards sver—-converting all things nrou im into'the means of his advancement, even his ver passions and sntnitiss into the pedes- tal of his fame and the Is er of his lory. _ mlhtlulfltl’ all,he biotin‘ tedlnillli has it of- system wide ss the universe. he stands In important relation to all his fellows, he cannot disdain even the weakest and poorest among tbsur. bstiasslhbasssssdsis:ssdbsrslosksI'srtltsuotbsrgrsst design of his life. IIe was formed to love, rind there is no religion without it. There is more than a beautiful sentiment in those words of the poet : " IIo prnyeth best who Ioveth best. All things both great ariil irtiirill, ' For the dear Gotl ilnit loveth us, Ile tirade and lovcth all." Ifonr blessed lleileemer h'td done no more for the world than to lie- quo.-ttlt it his lessoiis of love, he would have been its greatest be- nefrtctor still. Tltore is no such enemy to its progress as selfish- ness. and there is no demon so hard to exorcise ; it forges the rtirtn- aclves for the slave, it ttiingles the cup for the lIl’l.IlII(:|ftI. ll casts up its gains arriidst the ruins it has inside. and while it brother is bleed- ing. and nigh utito death, it stalks riirrtbly past on the other side. 'I‘ltirt‘.<s to our Redeeiiier for his every condemnation of this—- IIIJI. both by his lips and by his life. he put the brand of|Ienven‘s displetsure.on the selfish, and extinguished the voice oftltrtt iriipious creed—“ Am I my brother’s keeper?” Ilut we triust not forget that love is a practical thing. Its proper language is itot words. but deeds ; it hits pteitts for the prosperous, irrtleed, and pity for the fallen ; hut it It is also food for the hungry, rriiiitent for the naked rind refuge for the ltoiiteless itrid the outcist. " It knows to have coriipnssiun on the ignorant, and them that are out of the way." Its celestial footprints rtirty be traced, not. per- hips to the house of feasting itrrd wassitil, but to the dusky dwell- ing of the niourner, to the edge of the sepulclire where the-tear drop glistens in its eye. to the cell of the culprit, where the words of wisdom fall from its lips, rind to the uttermost limits of the earth, where it |lI'll(8I Ilie glad tidings rtfsttlvittion to ritig. Like a phnros- light, it girds the whole Itoriznn of wit, rtrtd the lienrt beats lighter in its presence, and the eye looks less sorrowful at its approach. Nor does it want scope for its wing in a tvorld like this, for the desolate and the f.illeri are everywhere, the ignorant and the fearful. the hungry and the homeless; itor ertcourttgeincnt in its work, for “ it is more blessed to give than to receive ” It is the high usury of heaven : “ he that soweth bountifully rih:tll reap also bouiitifully ;" and, although it may soirtetiriies meet with iiigrrtti tudo and repulse, it is, nevertheless, the great strengthener of the soul, and the brightener of its way. Let us see than that we iiiclurle this in the design of our life. that we learn to love. not in word only, but indeed rtitd iit truth, that we look forth with itffeciiort on the great brotherhood of titan. and aim iit their uplifting, together with our owit. to heaven I.|II'I to truth. 'l‘lris tvill lie living iiideeiI—lii'ing anticipatory of IIEiI\'t‘.lI —lii'ing as-iimilative to God ; “for God is love ; rittd he that loveth dwelletlt in God, and God in him. 'I'lIere is oiio other point oti which it isnecessary to touch, and it is rtll irttportatit ; it is the zone of the others. it holds them toge- tlter. \Viiliout it, man would be its rt world tvitli-tut :t firiiitirtietit, or as a firttiuitient willtout a star. Ile is foritted to wrestle rind to love, but he is also formed to worship. 'I‘Iie iitoon passes round the earth, but both eitrth and mooit puss round the sun ; so lirotlier here must minister to brotller. but all rtiiiiister to God. Nor can they be sitstriined in their relations to each other, than as they adhere to their orbits in relation to him. Worship, their, not in its cold and formal, but in its deep and spiritual int-riiiitig, is the great and p;tr:iinourit lrtw ofthe universe. I is the syriipltoiiy of the stars-the united voice of faith and love rirtd gratitude and wonder, in the prcsertce of the Eternal ; it is the all- eiiilirucizig and till-sustaittiirg mystery of our being—its god and its glory ; it is wings to the trtoral creature in his contemplation of the lrtliiiite ; it istlre upward attraction which loosens the cords of sense, and makes the earth as a spring board to the young spirit. in its bouitd towards the ideal and the shitdowless ; it is written far down in the depths of our niiture, and we have been aiming at it ever- al.ts, how blindly !—till ‘at length the true light shone, and the true notes were sounded over the heights of Bethlehetn.—Even as it is, we lie but feeble and faltering scholars ; our eye is still dim, and our lienrt is still weak ; we are " proselytes at the grtte"—worship— pers. ifat all, of the outermost circle. But we are here to learn, and our instructors are ntarty—the heavens and the earth in all their sublime and beautiful forrns—the sun, rind the stan and the flowers, and the trees. and the waving corn—the vtiices of the good and the gifted, now singing at the fountain. but whose echoes linger among us still--the voice of the \Vord, " which shall not pass away," made vital in hint who labored on the highways, and who died upon llte cross-—the visions it depicts, the hopes it inspires, the prospects it unl‘oIds—and. over and above all, the far echoing music of heaven itself. " That undisturbed song of pure concert. Aye sung before the anppliire-colour,d throne 'l'o Him that sits thereon.” \Ve are here to learn, and these are our teachers. Let us listen to their voice—|et us answer to their beckottings_ let us catch up tliu tiielody, til their song, and — “ Keep in tune with heaven, till God ere long, To His celestittl concert u-t unite, To live with ltiitt and sing in eiidiess morn of light." FRENCII FARE IN IRI’.I.AND. A Monsieur travelling in lrr-.l:tnrl, put up at a house of entertain- ment in the country, tried as the titiie for dining itpproaclied, mine host ventured to risk his guest: ‘ May I rririke liould to art yer honor, what is it you'd be ivnnting for your dinner ?’ The I"rcnchin:in‘s appetite prompted his natural aptness. and he therefore, guessed the purport of I’ut‘s query. ‘ Airy pecgeoiis ?' ‘ Oh, plenty of them.’ _ ‘ Very well, man amt‘, get me some for my dinner?’ ' 'I‘o be sure I will yer honor, rind tvclcoriie ’ _ Away went the host to obey the foreign orders, witltout a reinnrk louder than he thought in his own rttirid of ‘ blood and ottns and that’s quare taste sure enough.‘ Up crime the dinner. and down If. went into the secret caverns of Prertcli digestion. Next rriorntng Prtdd appeared before his boarder with— ' I lint will yer honor have for diitiier to-day ." _ ‘ Ah, my friend, your peegeon ver goot. ver goot indeed ; I shrill have more pct-geon, to-day ?' ' Oh. thin, to be sure you shall, your honor—an welcome—niore and more ifyou like them.’ . _ On went the week, and each day was the unttrrng taste of the epicurinn tourist supplied with ‘ ttiore peeguon.’ Saturday came, and with it came the ltost. ‘ Oh. then, what will your honor have for yer dinner to-morrow, it is Sunday you know .” _ _ _ ‘ Peegeon ver fine I‘ cried the Frenchman, smacking his lips, ‘you got any more pecgeon !‘ _ ' Truth, and the devil itnollier pusheen is left in the whole parish, barrio that your honor would wish to rite the old tom cat ltiriisclf.’ ' Cut:-'I‘liomas Cat eh? I said poegeofli my fflfind-' ‘ Sure ye did—und the devil rt thing else have I given you but pusheen.' ' I'et-geoti that fly, I mean.’ _ ' Well, our pushcens will fly at ya, too. if ye tread on their tail.‘ ' But,‘ replied the treriibliiig Frenchnian, ‘you did say sunttlting about one cat ?’ _ ' One cat I Why. by the head of Saint Dennis, 'tts not one, but six cats your honor hits ate.’ ‘ Eat nix cuts ! yelled the pct.':fiad tourist. cats I I asked for pcegeon.’ ‘ Well, pusheen is what we call little kittcns—wce cats.’ ' I did iitean peegcon with wing and feddcrs !' A light here gleairied upon l'itddy‘s knowledge box. ' Oh. by my soul and conscience I believe 'iwas pigeons yer honor wanted.‘ - Uui, yes—to be sure my friend.’ ‘ Ah, then why the devil don't you French people learn to talk lain. Sure you do eat such usre things as frogs, snails, and rats ; d luck to me if I saw anyt ring strange In your eitlltng for little oats.‘ ' Divil a doubt of it.’ _ _ The giimsce which followed the certainty of this fact, may be more easly imagined than described. The Frenchman quickly packed up, and its quickly made away from a cduntry that knew no dlfsrsncs between oats and igsorts. We do not_ksow whether be ever published his Thoughts upon Irish Iissnss, if so. they were never translated. ‘ What, me out zix . AGRICULTURE. (From the Min York 1$‘t'bans.)~ SCIENTIFIC FARMING. A VIIIT ‘I20. Till PARK 0' JIIDOI KIACR. That Verinnnt is one of‘ the best agricultural States of the New Englniid group. there can he no question. IIsr valleys are rich. and hot‘ mountain-t are covered with good soil. quite to their sum- rriits. The town of Shelburitn. in wltichI am writing. is territo- Iltlllv srtrall, but the soil is well hitsbanded and productive. and the inltiibittints industrious and independent. Ilere Judge Meaob rs- sides, on his splendid farm. which stretches along the shore of Lake Champlain, nitd contains 2,300 acres in one body. This f.-triit is sdriiiriibly located, and presents some beiutiful points aside frein the richness of the soil and the great amount of agricultural wealth which now covers it. The mansion house when the J and his wife reside, is situated but it few rods from the shore of the lake, and strtnds in the centre of about five acres, which are in- closed by sortie two or three rows of'.tull, handsome cedars; Here is a spot worthy to be described. You enter the gate and find yourself upon a wide and beautifully-gruvslled walk. overshadowed by large forest trees of many kinds. You travel ttlong I few rods rtitd then crossri crystal brook, that runs into a fish-pond below, where you might linve seen disportlng themselves some score or two of large speckled trout, well fed and fat, if some infernal scsmps had not caught them out a few weeks ago, when darkness covered their evil deeds. 'I'ho rascals who perpetrated that thefl. would steal the butter from a Negro slnve's hoe cake, rind rob the dead of the pennies thiit cover their eyes, even if the dead were their own mothers. You will ask what siitrtll house is that which stands upon the margin ofthe brook, with an arch of woodbine in front, and roses about its entrance ? The answer will be: "The house where the pans of iiitlk are set for the cream to rise. and where the yellow. sweet butter is rnade." You pass under this beautiful arch of woodbine and enter the neat little house, and there you see, well rtrrttngod upon clean shelves, the pans of milk covered with delicious cream, which would certriiiily rnrtke our mouth water, if you ltqld sceit the beds of riclt strawberries which are in the garden evon . You come out from this retreat, and wide-grrivelled walks branch out before you in various dirt-ciéorts. You rtow stniid in front of the house. overshadowed by forest trees, surrounded by various kinds of flowers, and your ears filled with the sweet music of a thousand birds. Every object that meets your view. except the gravelled walks and the niitnition house, seems to be the work of Nature. Yet all the trees ofthis little forest were set out by the tasteful proprietor forty years ago. 'I'be itre so arranged. that you don't once imagine but they grow as ttiure planted them, and you almost t-lie.-ited irtto the belief. that you have been set dowuin sortie fittest in it tropical climtc. Now , the Judge-, in his old straw lint, may be seen. perchance, stalking, like a giant, rtrnong the trees of his own planting, or sitting under the piazza, taking a pinch of mud. At first you will be sure that he is some “ fine old English gentleman," enjoying his country seat. in the summer months. But halfiin hour's conversation will show you that you are in the ,..errence ofit Vermont fat-titer. who began life by carrying a bushel of wheat on his brick ten miles through the woods to mill, and trapping furs. Now his wife appears, and you will see one of the hrtntlsorricst women, both in face and form, of her age, you have had the pleasure of meeting in this or any other country. “ Cart these be farmers ;" you will ask yourself. Indeed, they are. and Vermont farmers, too. But my object is to speak of things, and not of persons. You pass through a neat, airy, well-furnished house, and now one of the tnost bonuiifull arranged flower-garden open to your view yt1lII.I\'C ever seen. It will seem as if Flori hrtd spread out all her treasures here. Every variety of flower '3 beforiyou. and the air is all perfume. You pass on. and goose- bcrries and strawberries, almost as large as hens’ eggs. invite you pick. You are now in the midst of ever thing t t can please tlte palate and regals the eye, and you wi i say : "This is one of the most beautiful gardens I have ever seen." Arsd hear in mind that this is the garden ofa Vermont farmer. But I must get you out of this enchanting spot, and let you see the riclt fields and the green pastures. I ltave said this fitrrn con- tains 2,000 acres, but this is not all his fitrrn. The J u owns another small patch. as he may call it. it short distance mm the home form, but not joining it, that contains 1,800 acres of most excellent hind. But I will not weary you by asking you to travel over tltis Vermont fiirm, which contains 3,600 acres of land, all fertile and under good improvement. Judge Meach owns just such a farm as this, and keeps 4,000 sheep and a great many cattle and liorst,-s on a great ntatiy hills. Some years he cuts it thousand tons of hay, and raises it great amount of reduce. How many human beings such a form will feed and clot e ! 'I‘liis is unqucstio bly the largest farm in New England, and I very much qucutioti whether there is one in the Union that produces more. There may be smrie forms in Virginia or other States that embrace more acres. but I don’t lielicvt-, there is one that is really worth so nruch rironey. Some Virginia liiiidlurd ni.-iy own more territory, and have lrolfiis many slaves as Judge illeitch has of sheep, but the profits pray be small when compared with the products of this Vermont arm. I have endeavoured to give it plain unvarnishcd account of this form, but I am quite sure the description falls far short of the res- lity. I have visited it good many forms in this State and in the Great \Vest, but I ltave never seen one that is equal to Judge llIertcli's, taking every thing into account. \\'ho would not be a farmer, if he could be such a farmer? After all, n farmer's life is the most happy one. And is it not strringe, that so many halo and heart young men will congregate in our cities, when such a variety 0 soil and climate as our country affords is within their rerich ? We ntust have merchants, it is true, and they are n use- ful cluss ofthe community; but tlten their lives are full of perplexi- ties, and oflen of great rtdversities. Secdtime and harvest are pro- mised to all, but we lt..:'e no warrant against the convulsions in the r-it-rcantile world. Besides, it is easier to be honest on a farm than in ii trading-houric. 'I‘he fsrni has no inducements to be otherwise than honest, while the trailer is all his life-time subject to tempts- tion, if not to absolute bondage. Aorticvr.'run.u..—\VilI our Farmers carefully read and con- sider the mittter which the following paragraph contains .’ It is co- pied front the Carleton Sentinel :— “ We are surprised that so little Winter Wheat is sewn by our Frtrmers. when it is knowv, that it is a much snrer crop than the Summer Wheat, and will make whiter flour and better bread. We have now before as a few heads of \Viittcr \Vheat, taken from a field owned by Mr. George Bull : they are very full and heavy. and ri enough to cut. without the least appearance of smu trnyed by the weevil. It will be seen by the fol ing. from the Portland Trrtnscript,th.-it the American farmers are turntrig their at- tention to the raising of this grain : " ‘ The Piscatrtquis Observer says. the Farmers in that County are turning their attention to the sewing of Winter \Vhent, and that the experiment works well. We recently saw fields of vigorous looking winter grain on the Kenncbec, and were glad to us them. Let us, as Mrs. M‘Curtlu says. " bread ourselves.‘ " The turnip in Russia is eaten as fruit by all clsssee. In the houses of the nobles sliced turnip with brandy is ofersd to the guests. 'I‘rtn Inrsrt.—A lnte American paper furnishes the following enumeration of the Irish throughout the world Irish in Ireland - 8,000,000 In England, Scotland and Wales 1.000.000 In France and Belgium - 100,000 In British North America, - 700.000 In Australia - - N03” In the United Stats - COW . - In South America, (perhaps) I003“ Total. I2,lM.W0 m I weevi , while it field of Sttrnmer Wheat adjoining, is nearly dou- on