that organism, in its proper state, is made; yet he cannot impart life to it. The chemist may make a combination, and say that it ought to do; but he cannot hit upon that mysterious something without which it will not do.

That the consideration of the condition, or state, in which the substances of food are, is of vital importance, will be more clearly seen on further consideration. And let me here allude to the great discussion of the tobacco question, which, like other discussions, has ended-but this time, in many instances, literally-in smoke. Fearful statements have been industriously promulgated as to the effects of nicotine (the essential property of tobacco) on the system; and graphic pictures have been drawn of dogs instantaneously killed by the exhibition of a few drops of it. But, to my thinking, a most important element of the question has been overlooked in its discussion. Tobacco smoke may be a very different thing from tobacco-juice, or tobacco-essence, which is undoubtedly poisonous. I take it, therefore, that the first thing to be done in the matter is, to decide what is the result of the change of form which the tobacco undergoes when being passed from the solid to the vaporous condition? Analogy leads me to suppose that a change of a very material kind is undergone; and before so unhesitatingly deciding that smoking is injurious, because the essence of tobacco is so, it is the truly philosophical way to determine first the condition of the smoke, and how it acts on the system. Of this I am very certain, the smoke of the tobacco is not the same as the tobacco itself. Nicotine, about which so much has been said, is obtained from the whole of the tobacco: can it be obtained from the smoke or vapour of it? That is a most important part of the tobacco question.

My readers, I am sure, will at once see the bearing of this digression upon the matter I have now under discussion. Chemistry may point out to us the constitution of a food in its natural or normal condition, and may predicate from this analysis of it its effects upon the system; but in view of the change, or probable change, of principle, brought about by a change of circumstances, are they prepared to say what that effect will be when a simple food is cooked, or a number of foods mixed together? We have every reason to believe that a very remarkable change does take place in the nutritive capabilities of food when cooked; and it is reasonable to suppose that a change takes place in the nutritive effects of each when a number of different foods or substances are mixed together condimental fashion. Yet these conjectures or facts have never, or, at all events, seldom been taken cognizance of, in the discussions which have been so often made of late on the cattle-food question; and yet I believe they are worthy of the fullest consideration. Apply these to the condimental food question, now so much talked of, and see what the result will be. This question, at all events, is not to be decided by chemical theory alone. We know that a change in the conditions will cause a change in the manifestation of a force; so that often what ordinarily takes place in the laboratory will not take place in the organism. Chlorine and hydrogen are gases having a powerful affinity for each other that is to say, they will unite when brought together in the daylight; but if we change the conditions, if we bring them together in the dark, their affinity is never manifested. Snow is frozen rain-water. Rainwater drunk allays thirst; snow does not, on the contrary, allay, but excites thirst when melted in the mouth; melted in the open air, it does allay thirst. Is the flavour of boiled that of raw peas? of artichokes, turnips, kohl rabi? From coal-tar we gain pleasant perfumes. Certain plants give out no odour in their normal

condition; rub the leaves, and the odour is at once perceptible. But examples like these of the truths I have stated above, can be multiplied easily enough; but sufficient has been given to prove that a very material difference arises, or may arise, in the property of a food by a change of its condition or state. Who can say then but what in the mere boiling of a cattlefood we may bring into operation a force, so to speak, which makes it infinitely more nutritious to the animal which partakes of it, and which food would have remained latent under normal circumstances? Rapeseed or cake is too pungent for cows to eat of it in its ordinary condition. Dr. Voelcker has shown how, by heating it with boiling water, it is rendered palatable. How difficult is it also to predicate the organic result of a mixture of food substances?

Further, if artificial changes in the condition of materials or substances bring about such remarkable changes in their combination, it is difficult to say what the natural changes are which are brought about by the action of the organism on a food. And yet these changes are probably very great, and decided. The chemist can tell what will to a certainty take place when he mixes two substances in a glass vessel; and he also knows that if he desires the change to be effected, he must have in the vessel the substances, and those only, which are necessary: the presence of all others must be avoided. But the chemist cannot be sure that in the organism this keeping out of extraneous substances is possible; further, he may guess at, but he cannot be sure what the effect is of any proposed combination of substances in the organism, where life is an element to be taken into consideration. On this point one great physiological authority has the following: "Vital processes go on in tissues which, so far from isolating the substance introduced-so far from protecting it from interference, do inevitably interfere, and are themselves involved in, the very changes undergone by the substances. Thus, while it is true that an alkali will neutralize an acid out of the organism, we must be cautious in applying such a chemical principle in the administration of drugs, because the alkali may stimulate a greater secretion of the gastric acid; so that, over and above the amount neutralized, there will be a surplus of acid free, owing to the interference of the organism in which the process takes place." Living organisms, reader, are not glass vessels in which mixtures can be made with a certainty as to the results of the combination. A food turns to acid in my stomach, it does not do so in yours, and yet the food is the same.

All these consideration points out, I think, very clearly that the cattle-food question is not to be decided from chemical dicta alone. Chemistry can give us chemical facts, but it can give us no information as to the bearing of them upon the organism. Physiology is a matter with which the cattle-feeder has more, I believe, to do with than with chemistry. And when we know more about this science, we shall then, I firmly believe, have the obscurity cleared up which now enshrouds the subject. Amongst other questions which will thus be enlightened will be the condimental food already alluded to. However this is to be decided, either pro or con, of this I feel convinced, that it will not be decided, I repeat, by chemistry alone. Whoever believes that analysis alone decides the absolute nutritive value of any food or combination of food, and that the condition or state in which this combination is placed has no influence upon it, and that the organism moreover in which it is to be assimilated has not also an important influence in the assimilation of the food, I for one am crotchety enough to say that I do not believe all this. On the contrary, I believe that the body in which the food is to be assimilated does play an im

portant part in the economy of food, that the condition of our food is also important, and that while analysis can tell us the constituents of a food, it can give us no trace of that mysterious yet essential something which alone makes that food nutritious.

When I read of men of science, or assumed science, pooh-poohing at facts, and attempting to overthrow them by a theory-when I know that they snub all conjectures which militate against this theory, although indulging in conjectures to no measured extent themselves when I know that they talk of this same cattlefood question as if science had decided the whole matter, and set bounds and limits to it, beyond which it is unnecessary to go-I am forcibly if not painfully reminded of the saying of a true and humble (humble because true) man of science, who, when congratulated upon the extent of his knowledge, made this ever-memorable reply: "I have picked up a pebble or two on the beach, but the great ocean of truth is still before me to explore."

Paradoxically it may be stated with reference to the

I may premise that my home is in one of the Eastern | Counties of England, and that I set out partly with the view to attend the meeting of the Royal Agricultural Improvement Society of Ireland to be held at Limerick, "the City of the violated Treaty," and partly to see "the West of Ireland;" and, in many respects, I had a very interesting visit. My route led me through a part of the Fens, to Peterborough; thence, via Stamford, Melton, Leicester, Burton-on-Trent, Uttoxeter, Stoke, with its kindred towns and crowded population, Crewe, Chester, Flint, Conway, Bangor, Holyhead, to Kingstown and Dublin, returning by Manchester, and Wakefield. Throughout this long railway ramble, I saw nothing truly satisfactory in the state of the crops or in the profitable appearance of the grazing lands through which I passed, the only redeeming features being the potato and pulse crops. These certainly looked promising; but the "white-straw" crops varied much. The wheat crops, in particular, denoted a poor return. All looked cold and wet, nothing kind and genial. Even the grass looked an unhealthy green; all evidencing a cold summer, and the absence of Old Sol's bright and warm influences. The grazing stock evidently partook of, or were influenced by, the character of the season. They revelled in luxuriant pasturage, certainly; but there was no enjoyment or easy quiet. All appeared restless, and looking for something not attainable. There they were, lurking under hedges or pacing after each other round the field; and their somewhat lanky forms and dirty tails told the cause of their uneasiness. The potato crops, as seen throughout the whole ride, were all looking well; and we could learn that scarcely a specimen of a diseased tuber could be found. This is truly gratifying; and as I passed on, I found all fully confirmed, leading me to a reasonable hope that the disease was for the most part arrested. Who can tell but that the past two cold and wet summers have been sent in mercy by our beneficent Creator, for this very purpose? Let us rejoice and be thankful. The wheat crop will unquestionably be a deficient one; but it will in a great measure be made up by an abundant crop of potatoes-always a great boon to every poor family.

My real desire was to see the agriculture of Ireland, and particularly the western parts of the country; so that my observations will mainly be in that direction.

Of course, all travelling now-a-days is by railway. I took ticket direct for Killarney. The route, from Dublin down to the neighbourhood of Portarlington, lies through a pleasing country; and it is the bestmanaged and best-grazed district through which I have passed, either on this or previous journeys through Ireland. It is chiefly a grazing country; and the grass lands are really cared for. There is the absence of that pest of Irish grazing, ragwort; and those other tenacious weeds so detrimental to good grazing are much subdued. It reminded me of Northamptonshire, that pattern-county of cleanly grazing, only requiring a more regular attention to stocking. On former visits, I have seen thousands of yellow plants in every field. I am glad to say that there is a great and manifest improvement in cleanly grazing and grass-land management. I venture to opine that our friend "Torr's" annual speech at their Royal dinner has had its influence. It was his unfailing topic-" rag-weed." It has done good. From Portarlington to Thurles, the country is more varied in its character, and several bogs intervene; but some useful grazing lands are passed. The paucity of sheep and the inferior character of the cattle struck my attention. Improvements are greatly needed in this department; and they are, in fact, gradually making way. Not an old Irish ox or sheep is to be seen-Shorthorns, or a cross-breed of Shorthorns and native breeds. The lands are tolerably managed; but they are not so cleanly as those nearer Dublin. The crops are not good anywhere. They look starved, and are very thin. Potatoes look healthy in haulm, but very backward. The lazy-bed system prevails. On inquiry, I learnt that it has been fully proved that by this means a much larger proportion of sound potatoes are raised than under row-culture. We are now in Tipperary; and my spirit droops as I pass along. There is so much poverty and misery to be seen and felt everywhere-small holdings and wretched cabins always in view.

At Mallow Station, a large crowd of the poorer sort were in waiting for the body of poor Braddel, who had on that very morning breathed his last, owing to the shot from Hayes, the assassin. The excitement was that of sympathy mixed with curiosity. Braddel was highly respected, and Mallow the place of his abode. But what a country! All these dreadful tragedies, I was told,

owe their origin to changes of tenantry. Poor Fitzgerald took but four-and-a-half acres of land from Delana; he was shot at mid-day, his wife being in close company. The poor landholder, or poor tenant, will suffer his crops, his cow, his pig, and every stick, to be sold for rent, and will scarcely grumble; but take his land-"the land upon which his seven grandfathers" have lived-and you take the consequence. There is not a labour market; what must the poor creatures do? Land they must have, and they will give anything, any price for it, for the sheer privilege of becoming a tenant, and at a high rent generally. The price to an outgoing tenant (one amicably going out) varies from three to six, and even seven, pounds per acre, altogether exclusive of tenant-right. Then the tenant has to build himself a house, which, depend upon it, will be none of the best; and as to shed or outbuilding of any kind, none are to be seen. The wife and the bairns, the cow and the pig, all in many cases congregate together; no wonder at distress and misery. Our English system is infinitely preferable; I mean our farms of moderate size, managed with the requisite capital, and expended freely in the labour market. Our labouring population are far more comfortable in every relation of life than the small cabin farmers of Ireland. True, they work hard, and are paid for it. The other does not work, nor has he any inducement to do it. It will be a happy day for Ireland when this unhealthy and impoverishing system is broken up. It is no degredation for a man to sell his labour to another. What can a poor tenant get off his little holding of a four or ten acre farm? An English labourer would earn as much, and not have the rent to pay. But it is said the Irish labour is not industrious, and if you pay him good wages he will spend them in whiskeyneither Bridget his daughter, nor Mike his son, are the better for it, although the one is minus the frock and the other the jacket. All goes for whiskey beyond the barest expenditure for the most homely fare, this chiefly consisting of potatoes and oatmeal, with a little bread. I always consider this a libel upon the true Irish character. Only let Pat feel that he has a little money in his pocket at last, and I give my word for it that his selfishness will gradually give way; he will soon find his heart expand with his circumstances, and his family will not be long before they come in for a share of his good fortune. But, poor wretch! when does he (the Irish labourer) now find himself with cash in hand? Why, if he gets an hard-earned sixpence once in a way, the probability is that he thinks it will do precious little towards buying the frock or the jacket, and so it goes for whiskey. There appears to me to be a general disposition to keep down the Irish labourer, or, more properly speaking, no desire to elevate him in the scale of society. I noticed that he was constantly spoken to or addressed as an inferior, and in tone and manner not customary in England. But very little is kindly spoken; and if freedom towards him is indulged, it is of the jocose or bantering kind. I did not once notice him to be treated as an equal either in tone or manner. In England, the master and servant converse freely and without restraint, other than what is deferential and proper; but the dominant tone of the Irish master, and his sharp, quick speech, was to me repulsive and wrong. In England, all classes most cordially join in aiding the advancement of the agricultural labourer, and no class manifest greater interest in their welfare than our parochial clergymen ; but my impressions were to the contrary in Ireland. There an antagonism between the clergymen and the priesthood appears. The higher classes go with the clergymen, the lower with the priests; and so far as I observed (and I met with several), the priests did not treat them with that kindly familiarity which is so en

gaging and so influential in promoting the best feelings and reciprocity of good offices, and that disposition towards each other so essential to promote good morals and correct habits among the poorer classes.

But I am sadly digressing. The country seen between Thurles and Mallow becomes less attractive to an agriculturist. The lands are less cared for, and poor crops and poor grazing are the rule. As we proceed towards Killarney, and indeed throughout the whole line the country between Mallow and Killarney appears to be wretchedly managed, and the inhabitants denote great poverty. It consists, for the most part of bogs and small holdings, many scarcely large enough for the cow and potato plot, and the cabins most mightily inconvenient and dirty, with the invariable accompaniment of the dung-pit or heap close to the door, with all its vile contents. What would our sanitary committees say to such a state of things? I cannot attempt to describe the beauties of the lake and scenery of Killarney: everybody does it. My only remark is, that like everything Irish, it gets exaggerated. "Nothing like Old Ireland!" or its scenes and doings. Every Irishman is greatly attached to his country, and cannot fail to praise and laud it. You hear of "Fine country,” "Beautiful land," Charming scenery," "Inimitable lakes," "Splendid rivers," "Fine peasantry," everywhere, and now and then you hear the remark"The Irish crack up everything." So that you are constantly on the eve of disappointment, and often experience it.

66

On passing to Limerick, the line runs through the celebrated Golden Vale. I saw both the north and south of it by the two lines. It is unquestionably a fine agricultural country, and with good management it might be made equal to any in Ireland; but this rainy season has caused it to look anything but attractive. The crops are defective; the grass lands look cold, and are badly grazed; the crop of hay, and there is much of it, is nearly all spoilt. My great impression, relative to the grass lands in the south-west of Ireland, is that nearly all would be greatly improved, and indeed requires three years' cultivation; and then to be relaid down with the best pasture grasses. The prevailing herbage now consists of those hardy and innutritious grasses, which no extent of moisture can destroy, and those noxious plants or weeds which everywhere infest them, i. e., ragwort, wild carrot, ditto hemp, dock, sorrell, scabious, thistles, and the like.

I saw but very little stock of any kind. Small Irish cows prevailed, with a few flocks of rather inferior sheep, and some tolerably well-bred cattle. In one or two districts (in passing to and fro) I came upon some good herds and good flocks. Near to Castleconnel and Killaloe I found both, and in other detached places the same may be found, to the great credit of individual breeders; but the chief thing that strikes a stranger is the want of population, and the extreme poverty and absence of real comfort manifested, even in these highlyfavoured districts-no neat cottages and cottage gardens, with the abundance of ornamental flowers, so prevalent amongst the English labouring population, are to be seen. In passing tolerably farmed lands, you look in vain for improved implements: all seems rude and inexpensive. The potato crops look healthy, but not cleanly, and are very backward. I scarcely saw a good crop throughout my journey in Ireland; but they are free from disease. The haulm is so scant and short, that a great produce cannot be expected, nor do I think a great breadth is planted.

I attended the Limerick Meeting; but as that has been already reported in the Mark Lane Express, I shall merely observe that it was by no means equal to some of former years. The show of sheep evidenced

VICE versus

In all ages, and in all kingdoms of the world, vice has proved itself diametrically opposed to labour, and for the most cogent and tangible reasons will of necessity continue to do so to the end of time. Virtue, industry, and wealth, whether viewed in an individual or in a collective or national light, have always been considered synonomous terms; and so have immorality, idleness, and poverty. Such is Nature's irrevocable fiat, pronounced against every race and against every social rank of the human family. Neither kings nor queens, peers nor parsons, are excepted any more than country squires, farmers, and agricultural labourers. Wherever we find virtue or vice, whether in the palace or in the cottage, there we are also sure to find their respective awards in some form or other. We may as well think to gather figs off thistles as to realise the contrary. Indeed, it is well for mankind that it is so; for had the reverse been true, the heart recoils from the contemplation of what would have been its inevitable consequences.

There is, perhaps, no branch of industry where immorality is attended with more ruinous results than in agriculture, more especially amongst the labouring population; consequently there is no place where virtuous habits ought to be more sedulously cultivated, both by precept and example, than in the cottage of the agricultural labourer. We repeat, both by precept and example; for if landowners and their factors (stewards) and tenants spend immoral lives, it is hopeless to think of a virtuous, industrious, and prosperous peasantry.

The reason why immorality is attended with results so adverse in agriculture arises from the heavy character of the work and the fidelity with which it must be executed in order to obtain from the soil abundant crops, such fidelity being incompatible with loose, immoral, and vicious habits. There are, no doubt," roughs" who will go through a vast amount of work in a short time, if you will only give them drink, or in some way or other bribe them to do so, and then look sharp after them; but "fits and starts" of this kind are always attended with shortcomings, that do far more than counterbalance any benefit derived from them, while such work can never be performed as it otherwise would be, consequently it is never followed by the same train of propitious results. In other words, "the blessing of an Overruling Providence never has attended such a system of things, and never will do so; for although fruitful seasons are given to both good and bad, yet we have Divine authority for the conclusion involved in the above characteristic difference (Lev. xxvi. 33, and Isaiah i. 19, 20)—a difference involving the violation of Nature's laws and its never-failing punishment, as we shall now proceed very briefly to show.

Immorality is ruinous to both body and mind. Those who indulge in vice of any kind are guilty of a species of selfdestruction; for apart from the momentous question of everlasting punishment in a world of spirits, they impair their physical and intellectual faculties during the currency of their lifetime on earth, while they greatly shorten the mortal period of its duration. The nervous, muscular, and osseous systems are soon broken up, and rendered unfit to perform their respective functions in the animal economy; and as a natural consequence, the body of the agricultural labourer becomes less and less able to execute its daily task. Thus the nervous tissues become relaxed, and consequently they lose their natural tone. The sensual pleasures of the voluptuary cease to be relished. And were this all, the loss would be small; but the nerves have other functions to perform than those con

LABOUR.

nected with the senses: for it is now an established fact that all those processes in connection with digestion and the nutrition of the body are greatly dependent upon the healthy action of the nerves, while all the muscles of the body, voluntary and involuntary, are entirely under their control, so that when the former cease to perform their functions, so also, of necessity, must the latter. But the tissues of the muscles also become relaxed, and thereby lose their contractile powers; so that the labourer, by immorality, not only sacrifices his muscular strength, so essentially necessary at all the heavy work of agriculture, but the muscles of the heart, and all the involuntary muscles engaged in the performance of the other vital processes, also lose their contractile force, consequently they cease to perform their functions normally. Hence the prostrate condition of the labourer after a night's debauch, and the rapidity with which infirmity of every kind overtakes him-even the withering hand of old age before he reaches the natural meridian of life.

With regard to the intellectual faculties of the mind, they also become impaired in a similar manner; the professional skill, judgment, discrimination, memory, &c., of the agricultural labourer becoming of a lower and lower standard as the physical system is broken up by immorality. It is now an established fact that, in the cultivation of the mind, as in the education of youth, the body must at the same time be physically trained before successful results can be realised. And just so is the vice versa philosophy; for if you lower the standard of the physical functions, you at the same time lay prostrate with them the more ennobling faculties of the mind.

Such is a very general outline of the effects produced upon the body and mind of the agricultural labourer by immorality. In many respects, the details are of a nature such as to prevent their discussion, practically, in the columns of an agricultural journal. The subject divides itself into three heads-the physical, the intellectual, and the religious, or spiritual; and these, in practice, can and ought never to be separated the one from the others; for their combined action is essentially necessary to make the cottage of the labourer virtuous, industrious, and happy; and therefore each of them requires to be thoroughly understood, and brought home to every cottage-hearth, as a practical question of daily life, for professional consideration. No doubt, in a purely professional light, the skill and handicraft of the labourer, or the science and practice of his profession, are mainly included in the former two; but in the reformation of the morals of the people religion cannot occupy a secondary place in the cottage of the poor man, any more than in the palace of the prince; for according to the purity of the religious standard, so will be found the morality of the family, high and low, rich and poor. Now as the physical and intellectual standards are dependent upon the moral, as has already been shown, the importance of religion is manifest. Much is now being said about the low standard of morality in Scotch bothies; but, unfortunately, this low standard is not confined to bothies, and the bothy system did not arise until a great falling-off of religious principle and morality was first experienced. So long, for example, as the farm-servants of the father of the writer attended and respected family worship regularly every night, there was no clamour for a bothy; but when they began to sneer at the "Big-Ha-Bible" and those who kept family worship, and to absent them. selves on Sunday evenings, so as to avoid being examined,

or, as Burns has it, "targed tightly," on the "Shorter Catechism," and thus have their ignorance of religious truth exposed, and otherwise to live an irreligious and im moral life, nothing would satisfy them but "a bothy and their meal;" and as their conduct in the kitchen could no longer be tolerated, a bothy was consequently built for them. And now that a revival of religion has taken place, and that family worship is again beginning to be respected by all, and cherished by very many, in the castle, farmhouse, and cottage, this vital work of Grace is beginning to produce its legitimate fruits, so that the moral work of reformation thus begun cannot fail, in due course of time, of extending itself to bothies, when the more thoughtless unmarried labourers, male and female, wherever they live, will be obliged to succumb to the authority and example of the better-behaved. As yet, however, it is no easy matter to select virtuous, intelligent, and industrious farm-servants; and this is equally true, whether they are married or single. At the same time, a separation of the sheep from the goats is evidently taking place in every rank of society, both in town and country; and the labourers of the present day are not such bad characters as they were some time ago, or when bothies first began to be the common plan.

With a view to stimulate and encourage the great work of reformation thus begun in every corner of the kingdom -in England and Ireland, as well as in Scotland-let us examine somewhat more in practical detail each of the above heads-viz., the physical, intellectual, and religious well-being of the agricultural labourer.

A cheap manual, specially adapted for the whole of our agricultural population, so as to make them acquainted with the physiology of their bodies, and how much their physical and pecuniary interests, as well as their spiritual welfare, are dependant upon a virtuous life, is very much wanted at the present time. When we examine the agricultural labourer in the light of physical science, as he toils in the field, under the broiling sun of summer, or in the frigid atmosphere of winter, in the performance of his daily task, and observe how the various nerves, muscles, and bones perform their respective mechanical functions, and how the whole system is kept in proper working order by the nourishment received from the food consumed, and further observe how all this is done in accordance with natural laws established by the Great Creator, we are constrained to admire no less the wonderful mechanism and part it performs on the one hand, than the infallible laws of Nature by which it is governed on the other, and to ask ourselves-How can it possibly be credited that any hardworking man thus situated would live an immortal life if he had but the slightest knowledge of the physiology of his body? If he could see in the broad daylight of physical truth, for example, the sad havoc which intoxicating drink, tobacco, habits of intemperance, sensuality, &c., make upon such a beautiful piece of organic mechanism, would be wilfully persist in thus sacrificing himself? Were it the implement he used, that he thus, with wanton and ruthless hand destroyed, the by-stander, who was eye-witness to the fact, would naturally conclude "Such an implement no doubt belongs to his master and not to himself, or he would not handle it so!" Were, however, any person to inform the by-stander that the implement or machine was his own, they could scarcely conclude otherwise than that "The labourer must be a fool !" And just so is the immoral labourer-the greatest of all fools. The landowner and farmer who do not provide for the natural wants of their work-people, or who set at nought the laws of Nature in their household accommodation and general management, are equally short-sighted and guilty of suicide. They are so when the question is examined as a pecuniary one of pounds, shillings, and pence only, for it is not more impossible and impracticable to work an inorganic machine, as a thrashing machine with a peg out or a broken pinion, than it is to work an organic one with a peg out to advantage. Ignorant employers, and even labourers themselves, may adopt and carry out what has been termed "The devil-drive-system;" but the days are gone by when such can be viewed in any other light than that of "a penny wise and pound foolish economy." Avaricious men may cheat each other in every rank, and lead their inferiors blindfolded astray; but the laws of Nature are beyond their reach, and He who upholds them

will not allow of their being diverted from their legitimate

course.

Again, were present losses the only ones sustained, immorality would not be half the curse which it is now experienced to be in our provinces. But to the current loss must be added the greater constitutional sacrifice of the physical or industrial stamina of the labouring population in all time to come. The curse is thus a growing one, rising from bad to worse; so that the agricultural labourer who leads an immoral life, not only sacrifices his own physical wellbeing, and means of supporting himself for the present, but also sacrifices constitutionally the physical standard of his offspring, thus nursing, as it were, a canker-worm to gnaw at the very roots of the industrial vitality of his posterity. While the conduct of landowners who thus root up virtue and plant vice upon their estates may be more easily imagined than described.

With regard to the intellectual faculties of the labourer, or his skill and capabilities of acquiring a knowledge of the science of his profession, these sink in the scale with his physical talents, so that the workman who sacrifices the latter, unqualifies himself not only from elevating his position in life, but also from maintaining its present level. This is no trivial affair, now that steam is beginning to triumph in agricultural pursuits as it is doing in the other branches of industry, for those who, by leading immoral lives, thus disqualify themselves from being entrusted with the improved machinery now being introduced, or from comprehending the practical rationale of the systems of cultivating and manuring land and of attending to stock, cannot fail to find themselves in a very disagreeable position. Many labourers are so already—thus proving themselves to be the veriest blockheads imaginable at everything to which they put their hands. In many cases their stoical ignorance is wholly inconceivable, so much so, that one is often led to the conclusion that they actually know less than the brutes they drive in the cart, plough, or harrow. It thus becomes them, as a class, seriously to think how far they themselves have been instrumental, by leading vicious lives, in thus lowering their mental standard to so humbling a level. At one time the agricultural labourers of Scotland were considered highly intelligent and professionally skilful above their English brethren; but we question if thus much can be said in their favour at the present day. Certainly, there is not the same demand for them to the South as stewards and bailiffs that there once was, and that this arises from some deteriorating cause requires no proof; so that if things do not take a turn to the better, we may yet have to go South for our principal farm servants. We blush to say so; but the naked truth in a question of this kind must be plainly told.

There is evidently, however, at the present time, we are glad to say, "a shaking amongst the dry bones," which is not wholly confined to the agricultural provinces of the north, but which extends throughout the length and breadth of the United Kingdom. Even the sister country, Ireland, is beginning to feel ashamed at her agrarian misdeeds and low standard of morality. Those who are not personally acquainted with Scotland may read the bothy controversy in a different light to what those do who are resident and taking an active part in the great work of reformation now going on, and who were eye-witnesses to the great religious falling off that took place about the commencement of the present century; but the facts of the case speak for themselves in a language that cannot be misunderstood by "God-fearing farmers," who have been enabled during the whole of this dark and cloudy period to keep up family worship, &c., in their families, and to hand over to their posterity as they received it "the Big-Ha-Bible once their father's pride," and who are now doing what they can amongst their servants to separate the sheep from the goats, affording every necessary protection and encouragement, and using every means in their power to reclaim the latter. In this labour of love-one, too, involving, as the reader will perceive, no less a higher degree of professional art and skill on the part of the labourer than good behaviour in a moral and religious sense-such farmers require more assistance from their landlords in the shape of proper cottage accommodation than they are receiving; and what is of still greater importance in a work of this kind, they also require the cooperation of a somewhat higher standard of moral and religious example on the part of the laird, the factor, the lawyer, and the minister of the parish, while a much higher degree of