other hand, many who were farmers in
England have failed to equal the townsmen
in their success. Perhaps the cause of this
apparent anomaly is, that the former, being
utterly ignorant of the agricultural or pastoral
arts, before arriving in the Colony, have
studied them as practised in the country they
dwell in; while the others fancy they know
all about them beforehand, pursue their own
system, and find that what answered in
England fails in Africa.

Stock of all kinds feed on grass alone all
the year round. Sheep are turned out of the
fold (the "kraal" it is called) about ten or
eleven in the morning, and are driven to their
pasture ground by the herdsman, who remains
with them all day, driving them home again
a little before sunset. Except counting them
out and counting them into the kraal morning
and evening, the sheep-farmer has no
trouble at all with his stock; unless during
the shearing or lambing season. The
consequence is, that the young gentleman is apt
to get exceedingly lazy, and to fall into other
bad habits, instead of cultivating his mind
and a garden, and raising goodly fruit in both.
Servants follow the example of their master,
and become good for nothing.

Many farmers fall into such indolent habits
of mind and body, that they have not even
the energy to amuse themselves, or to
improve their daily fare, by shooting some of
the game with which their farms abound.

Fortunate is the settler who takes with him
some good English servants, who are
sufficiently attached to his person to remain with
him after his arrival in the colony. I have
known many instances where men have
brought out their own servants, supplying
them with good outfits, and paying their
passage money, and have been deserted by
them within two months of their reaching
the Cape—the servants fancying they could
"better themselves," or speculate on their
own account. The consequences have
generally been annoyance and disappointment to
the master, and no good to the servant.

Servants and labourers of all classes (both
male and female) are constantly spoilt by
their evil associations and their bad management
on board emigrant ships. I once sailed
in one myself, and a viler conglomeration of
laziness and immorality I never beheld even
in St. Giles's, or any neighbourhood where
curiosity has tempted me to search for such
scenes. This subject is too extensive for me
to enter upon here; but there is one suggestion
I would make—that every emigrant on
board ship should have some daily task to
perform, and only receive his rations on
condition of its being done properly.

There is one comfort wherewith every
intending emigrant should provide himself. He
may be sure that he will take nothing else
with him so valuable to him in every sense.
Should he live fifty miles from his neighbours;
should his affairs prove occasionally less
prosperous than his hopes; should his servants
desert him, and he be obliged to work with
his own hands—in a word, whatever of good
or ill may befal him, he will find this the
most valuable of all his possessions—a Wife!

WHY PEOPLE LET LODGINGS.

THE contrivances and struggles of what the
vulgar call "gentility" to make two hundred
pounds a-year pass for five hundred per
annum, rank with the tragedies of large towns.
Starvation for a month, and a sumptuous
festival four times a year: a white satin dress
for the mother of ragged children: a bone
of mutton for the family, and grouse and
truffles for visitors: hired plate for state
occasions, and Britannia metal for ordinary
service. Such are among the shifts and
contrivances of "poor, but genteel"
establishments. The cold mutton is contentedly
swallowed, when seasoned with the comforting
conviction that the Tomkinses over the way
believe three courses and a dessert, are the
daily comforters of the family. The genteel
do everything for other people. They never
see with their own eyes, but through those of
their neighbours. When Mrs. Jones surveys
her best carpet, it is not with her own sight,
but with that of the Prescotts next door,
and the rest of her habitual visitors.
"Insatiate vanity" and a foolish fear of the world
are the mainsprings of this miserably false
condition of things. It is one of the worst
results of an adoration of gold:—it is a
consequence of that stigma which is too
generally attached to poverty in this country.
It is a result of that tendency of money-
worshippers to look at a man's waistcoat
rather than his actions—to his material
possessions rather than to his moral worth.
He is a more considerable person in the
esteem of the world who possesses fifty
estates, than he who is a pattern of fifty
virtues. This being so, we do not wonder
when we detect the existence of an universal
system of hypocrisy on the subject of riches;
and a wish to appear well before the world—
whatever the world's standard of excellence
may be—will always form a marked trait in
the national characteristics.

There is a fashion in virtue as in dress, and
now, unhappily, the virtue in vogue is—
wealth. To be fashionable in this respect a
thousand sacrifices are daily made; glossy
clothes are lined with sackcloth. Everything
is made for show—to counterfeit wealth. It
is a race to escape from the stigma of poverty;
and, in the crowd, the millionaire is not
distinguishable from the begging-letter writer.
The advertising columns of the daily papers
are crowded with painful instances of domestic
suffering; but in no part of these columns do
we find such unequivocal symptoms of the
struggles of poor "gentility," as in that where
people who let lodgings advertise the
attractions of their respective households.