profitable employment. Hence it is that the evil of pauperism spreads so rapidly and extensively in every country, where, from a defective or vicious organization of society, any considerable portion of the working classes may be unprovided with reproductive employment.

the landlord, but also the whole of the profits of the occupying tenant. Impelled by these considerations, parishes begin to adopt these means of relieving their poor; instead of giving money to support them in idleness, they allot land, to the cultivation of which every hour which the labourer can spare may be applied. The industrious workman is thus provided for by means which do not cost the community a single farthing; for in every instance he pays an adequate, and in many cases even a high rent for his allotment.

This is a subject which appears to deserve the serious attention of the Legislature; every obstacle which may tend to impede its extension ought to be removed. If generally adopted, it could scarcely fail to remove the most crying evil of the present day-the hopeless pauperism of able-bodied labourers. This is the true and only way of relieving the industrious classes in this country from the oppressive influence of the Free Trade system. The superabundant population of the manufacturing districts would be gradually withdrawn; and the wages of the remainder would consequently rise. The condition of the whole working classes would be thus improved, and content and happiness would once more bless this land. The ruin and misery brought upon the labouring poor by the wicked experiments of the Economists would be removed, and we should be no more alarmed by the vapid and absurd declamations about superabundant population. The population of this country is superabundant, merely because our stupid regulations exclude the people from the fields in which their industry would prove highly productive to themselves as well as the community at large. Let the soil of the country be but properly thrown open to the industry of our labouring classes, and we shall hear no more of a surplus population. The cant and nonsense of the pseudoEconomists will sink first into con

It is very gratifying to find that the system which has recently attracted so much attention,-that of attaching a small allotment of land to the cottage of the industrious labourer, to be cultivated by spade husbandry, spreads so rapidly throughout the country. It would be tedious to specify the various districts into which it has been introduced; it is sufficient to say, that wherever the experiment has been judiciously made, it appears to answer the most sanguine expectations of its advocates; it emancipates the peasant from the condition of a parochial slave, degraded and demoralized by oppression, and places him in a state of comfort and independence. It obtains the countenance not only of the wealthy landowners, but what holds out the promise of making it still more general, the farmers of the country begin likewise to open their eyes to the palpable advantages of the system. The labouring classes evince the utmost eagerness to obtain these small allotments; they are willing and able to pay for them a much higher amount of rent than could be afforded by the ordinary farmer. In a parish not far from Wells, land appropriated to this purpose lets at the enormous rate of eight pounds per acre; it is no doubt of very good quality; and notwithstanding the present depressed state of agriculture, the industrious cottager is enabled to pay this high rent, and at the same time to derive from his allotment a considerable surplus, as a reward for his own labour. The success of these experiments begins to produce its natural effect; landowners begin to see that, by adopting this system, they can derive a much larger revenue from their property, than by letting it to a common farm-tempt, and then into oblivion. The er; and among the occupiers of extensive farms, the conviction gradually gains ground that nothing short of the general adoption of this plan can prevent the poor-rates from absorbing not only the whole rent of

patience of the public will be no longer teased by absurd schemes for transporting one portion of the community for the benefit of the other portion; and the public feeling will cease to be outraged by horrible sug

But chiefly of hot Trafalgar

The brave old man would speak; And, when he shew'd his oaken stump, A glow suffused his cheek,

While his eye fill'd-for, wound on wound Had left him worn and weak.

Ten years, in vigorous old age,
Within that cot he dwelt;
Tranquil as falls the snow on snow,
Life's lot to him was dealt;
But came infirmity at length,
And slowly o'er him stealt.

We miss'd him on our seaward walk :
The children went no more
To listen to his evening talk,

Beside the cottage door ;

Grim palsy held him to the bed,
Which health eschew'd before.

'Twas harvest-time;-day after day
Beheld him weaker grow;
Day after day, his labouring pulse
Became more faint and slow;
For, in the chambers of his heart,
Life's fire was burning low.

Thus did he weaken and he wane,
Till frail as frail could be;
But duly at the hour which brings
Homeward the bird and bee,

He made them prop him in his couch,
To gaze upon the sea.

And now he watch'd the moving boat,
And now the moveless ships,
And now the western hills remote,
With gold upon their tips,
As ray by ray the mighty sun
Went down in calm eclipse.

Welcome as homestead to the feet
Of pilgrim, travel-tired,
Death to old Simon's dwelling came,
A thing to be desired;

And, breathing peace to all around,
The man of war expired.

THE LAIRDE OF LONNE.

Ane Rychte Breiffe and Wyttie Ballande, compilit by Maister Hougge.

THERE wals ane manne of muckil mychte,
His naime wals Lowrie of the Lonne,
Quha helde the loudeste bragge of weir,
Of manne that evir battylle wonne.

He beatte M'Killum lance to lance,
He beat Gilfillane of the daille;
And at the tiltis and tourneymentis,
He downit our gallantis all and haille.

His falshown wals the fire-flaughtis glyme,
His speire the streimer of the sonne,
So that the championis stode alofe,

And quailit before the Lairde of Lonne.

Then he rade este and he rade weste,

Braiffing eche baulde upsettying manne;
There nevir wals ane knichte so proudde,
Since this proudde warlde at first beganne.

But there livit ane mayden in the Mers,
Sho wals the flouir of fayre Scotland,
And sho hald manye landis and rentis,
And ane erildome at hir command.

But yet sho wolde not yelde to wedde,
Nor trust hir herytage to manne;
And quhan the lordis came syching sadde,
Sho lynkit at hir quheele and spanne.

And on them passit hir mirry jokis,
Pitying their caisse rychte wofullye;
But bade them seik ane odir sposse,
For ane marryit wyffe sho wolde not bee.

But downe came Lowrie of the Lonne,
To carrye the mayden, landis, and alle,
He knowit sho nevir colde dysclaime
Ane lover so gallant, braiffe, and talle.

His armour wals so daizzling brychte,
That eyne colde hardlye loke thereonne;
He semit cladde in burnishit golde;

But alle wals nevir golde that shonne.

His saddyl clothe wauffit in the wynde,
With golden tassillis coverit o'er;
His steide he caperit lyke ane hynde,
And rerit with his brodeside before.

And quhan he rappit at Landale gaite,
No porter sterne wals to be seine;
But ane prettye May came to the yette,
And the blynke of gle wals in hir eyne.

But chiefly of hot Trafalgar

The brave old man would speak; And, when he shew'd his oaken stump, A glow suffused his cheek,

While his eye fill'd-for, wound on wound Had left him worn and weak.

Ten years, in vigorous old age,
Within that cot he dwelt;
Tranquil as falls the snow on snow,
Life's lot to him was dealt;
But came infirmity at length,
And slowly o'er him stealt.

We miss'd him on our seaward walk :
The children went no more

To listen to his evening talk,
Beside the cottage door;—
Grim palsy held him to the bed,
Which health eschew'd before.

'Twas harvest-time;-day after day
Beheld him weaker grow;
Day after day, his labouring pulse
Became more faint and slow;
For, in the chambers of his heart,
Life's fire was burning low.

Thus did he weaken and he wane,
Till frail as frail could be;
But duly at the hour which brings
Homeward the bird and bee,
He made them prop him in his couch,
To gaze upon the sea.

And now he watch'd the moving boat,
And now the moveless ships,
And now the western hills remote,
With gold upon their tips,
As ray by ray the mighty sun
Went down in calm eclipse.

Welcome as homestead to the feet
Of pilgrim, travel-tired,
Death to old Simon's dwelling came,
A thing to be desired;

And, breathing peace to all around,
The man of war expired.

THE LAIRDE OF LONNE.

Ane Rychte Breiffe and Wyttie Ballande, compilit by Maister Hougge.

THERE wals ane manne of muckil mychte,
His naime wals Lowrie of the Lonne,
Quha helde the loudeste bragge of weir,
Of manne that evir battylle wonne.

He beatte M'Killum lance to lance,
He beat Gilfillane of the daille;
And at the tiltis and tourneymentis,
He downit our gallantis all and haille.

His falshown wals the fire-flaughtis glyme,
His speire the streimer of the sonne,
So that the championis stode alofe,

And quailit before the Lairde of Lonne.

Then he rade este and he rade weste,

Braiffing eche baulde upsettying manne;
There nevir wals ane knichte so proudde,
Since this proudde warlde at first beganne.

But there livit ane mayden in the Mers,
Sho wals the flouir of fayre Scotland,
And sho hald manye landis and rentis,
And ane erildome at hir command.

But yet sho wolde not yelde to wedde,
Nor trust hir herytage to manne;
And quhan the lordis came syching sadde,
Sho lynkit at hir quheele and spanne.

And on them passit hir mirry jokis,
Pitying their caisse rychte wofullye;
But bade them seik ane odir sposse,
For ane marryit wyffe sho wolde not bee.

But downe came Lowrie of the Lonne,
To carrye the mayden, landis, and alle,
He knowit sho nevir colde dysclaime
Ane lover so gallant, braiffe, and talle.

His armour wals so daizzling brychte,
That eyne colde hardlye loke thereonne;
He semit cladde in burnishit golde;

But alle wals nevir golde that shonne.

His saddyl clothe wauffit in the wynde,
With golden tassillis coverit o'er;
His steide he caperit lyke ane hynde,
And rerit with his brodeside before.

And quhan he rappit at Landale gaite,
No porter sterne wals to be seine;
But ane prettye May came to the yette,
And the blynke of gle wals in hir eyne.