asked and given; so that a person coming
here with a thousand pounds, might really
live very comfortably on the interest of the
money; for a hundred pounds here will go as
far as two hundred pounds in England.

To the tenant farmers of England, New
Zealand offers a tempting home. No taxes,
no tithes, no rent! There is good land
for their seeds, and a good market for their
produce. The farmer's wife may sell her
cheese at one shilling a pound, her butter often
at two shillings a pound, while cattle and
stock of every description are cheap. The
emigrant most welcome in New Zealand is
either the capitalist or the poor labourer. The
fern and stone-encumbered lands require the
harrow and the plough. The land wants
men; men used to working with their hands.

Let me put in a good word for my own
colony to any one who thinks of emigration.
If you are not doing well in the old country,
and you feel it; if you can discern no
sunshine in the darkness around you; above all, if
you are industrious, and enduring, then
emigrate. And though it may be only because I
myself have emigrated thither, and am happy,
that I would recommend for the field of your
emigration New Zealand; yet I think that
its own natural advantages speak for the
place. Its climate is one of the healthiest in
the world, far before that of Australia, or
Van Diemen's land. There is not a single
venomous, scarcely a destructive, animal in it.
The natives are superior to the aborigines of
any other colony. The colony is yet in its
first infancy, and therefore offers you, perhaps,
the greater chance of making yourself rich
with a small capital; at the same time, it
bids fair eventually to equal any colony in
commerce, as it already does in natural
advantages. I would not willingly deceive
any one. I conscientiously believe what I
write, and I have written nothing which I
have not either seen with my own eyes, heard
with my own ears, or received from the most
undoubted authority. But what I have said
can hold good only with respect to Auckland,
although the seat of Government, the least
known and the most abused of all the settlements
belonging to New Zealand. It was in
vain we searched every book upon the
subject for some small account of this place; one
meagre paragraph was all we found. From
report, I am led to believe that New Plymouth
must be a most lovely and fertile place,
retarded, however, greatly by its want of
harbour, for it has nothing but an open roadstead.
The prices of almost every kind of
provision are dearer at New Plymouth than
at Auckland, while land is cheaper. It is
now in a very unsettled state respecting the
land titles. The repeated volcanic shocks
experienced at Wellington must always prevent
that settlement (although a much older and
wealthier) from being able to compete with
the capital. The climate of Nelson is superb,
but then the place is miserably poor, almost
all traffic being carried on by way of barter.
Sooner or later, justice will be done to
Auckland, which I am sure is equal to the best of
the New Zealand settlements.

THE USE OF FLOWERS

SWEET human flowers of passing loveliness
   Bloom on life's pathway with celestial splendour;
God bade them grow, the pilgrim's soul to bless;
   Use them not roughly they are frail and tender!

Thou pluckest one, to wear upon thy breast;
   To quaff the fragrance it is ever breathing;
O! cherish lovingly thy bosom's guest,
   Its graceful tendrils round thy heart-strings
            wreathing!

Twill nourish gaily in the light of smiles,
   And from such sunshine healthful vigour borrow,
To soothe in turn with soft enchanting wiles
   Thy mind, when darken' d by a cloud of sorrow.

Let not the cold winds of unkindly skies
   Chill its warm beauty, lest it droop and languish;
And though thou water it with streaming eyes,
   No life return to cheer thee in thine anguish!

Showering the sweets of true and constant love
   On all thy dear ones, make life ever vernal;
Until transplanted they shall bloom above,
   With brighter hues, unfading and eternal!

        MEMORY AT CRANFORD.

I HAVE often noticed that almost every one
has his own individual small economies—
careful habits of saving fractions of pennies
in some one peculiar direction—any
disturbance of which annoys him more than
spending shillings or pounds on some real
extravagance. An old gentleman of my
acquaintance, who took the intelligence of the
failure of a Joint-Stock Bank, in which some
of his money was invested, with stoical
mildness, worried his family all through a
long summer's day, because one of them had
torn (instead of cutting) out the written leaves
of his now useless bank-book; of course, the
corresponding pages at the other end came
out as well; and this little unnecessary
waste of paper (his private economy) chafed
him more than all the loss of his money.
Envelopes fretted his soul terribly when they
first came in; the only way in, which he
could reconcile himself to such waste of his
cherished article, was by patiently turning
inside out all that were sent to him, and so
making them serve again. Even now, though
tamed by age, I see him casting wistful
glances at his daughters when they send a
whole instead of a half sheet of note-paper,
with the three lines of acceptance to an
invitation, written on only one of the sides. I
am not above owning that I have this human
weakness myself. String is my foible. My
pockets get full of little hanks of it, packed
up and twisted together, ready for uses that