such friendly consideration as this, those who
have got employment after being on tramp
would often he unable to retain it, as life on the
road knocks up all men more or less, and for
days, and sometimes weeks, renders them
incapable of working on equal terms with men
who have been living regularly.

Owing to the overstocked state of the labour
market there are always some men out of collar,
and from the constantly recurring fluctuations
of trade there are often thousands of men out
of employment at one time. In discussing any
question relative to the social position or
prospects of the working classes, the out of collar
phase of their life, and the impoverishing
consequences resulting from it, should be taken
into consideration. It should be remembered
that it takes the working man who has a
family dependent upon him, months, sometimes
years, to get over the disastrous effects of "a
spell out of collar."

GOLDEN WAVERLEY.

THE Waverley of which I write is not the
novel of that name, but a little ugly
unpicturesque town, entirely built of wood, and
placed amid a wilderness of the barest and most
unpromising looking rock that mortal foot ever
trod or eye beheld. Yet Waverley is a very
interesting place, or I should not run the risk of
being voted a bore for describing a visit which
I paid to it, in the early autumn of the year 1865.
How I happened to hear of it, and to go to it,
was in this wise: travelling by rail from the
poor little town of Windsor, in Nova Scotia, to
the thriving and hospitable city of Halifax, my
attention was directed, when about midway
between the two points, to the very bleak
barren stony country through which the train
was creeping, at the rate of about sixteen miles
an hour. I noticed, in the heart of this
wilderness, a large collection of wooden shanties
freshly built, and asked the only conversable
person in the car—an American—what the place
was. "Don't know," said he; "but it looks
a God-forsaken country altogether." I asked
the guard; and he said the station was called
German-town, and that it was chiefly inhabited
by Germans, employed by a German company,
engaged in gold mining. Further information
he could not give me. Next morning, in Halifax,
I chanced to read in the Morning Chronicle
(clarum et venerabile nomen! that has passed
away from London journalism, which it once
adorned, and only survives in Halifax, in
Quebec, and one or two other colonial cities) that
a bar of gold, weighing two hundred and eighty-
four ounces, the product of the labour of twelve
men during six weeks, in the gold mines of
Sherbrooke, had been recently exhibited in the
city; and that a "brick" of gold, weighing
eight hundred ounces, being one month's result
of the operations of the German company at
Waverley, was at that moment on view at the
Government Office of Mines in the Parliament
House. Having nothing particular to do, I
went to look at it, and learned that German-
town, which I had passed the day before, was
but the newest name given to Waverley; and
that the true designation of the district where
these mining operations were carried on, was
the Waverley gold region. The official
inspector of mines, seeing that I took an interest
in the subject, courteously offered to drive me
to Waverley on the following day. "Waverley
itself," he said, "has no attractions; for it looks
more like Arabia Petræ than any other part of
God's earth; but the road for the first sixteen or
eighteen miles is lovely, and the countryis in all its
autumnal beauty. You can see the whole
operations of gold mining, from beginning to end, in
a couple of hours, and can have the rest of the
day for such exploration of forest scenery as we
may be tempted to make, either in going or
returning." The offer was gratefully accepted.

The original intention was to confine our
party to our two selves; but fate and a lady,
or rather two ladies—to whom was afterwards
added a small and much-cherished lady a long
way on the sunny side of her teens—willed
otherwise. We were to have gone in a gig
with one gallant steed, but had to provide a
roomy open carriage, and two gallant steeds, in
consequence of this pleasant extension of our
company, and to lay in a leetle more champagne
and other creature-comforts than we had
originally intended. The morning was beautifully
fine and clear—neither hot nor cold—a
morning that would have suited for a long walk,
even more admirably than for a drive—when we
started from the door of the Halifax hotel and
bowled cheerily along to the ferry-boat that was
to convey us across the harbour to the little
town of Dartmouth, on the opposite side.
Halifax is not a beautiful city to look at from
within, but seen from the water it is highly
picturesque. It is, moreover, a very agreeable city
to live in, as every British officer of the army
or the navy, who has ever been stationed there,
will readily confess, if he appreciate kindly and
generous hospitality. Whether this Halifax or
its namesake in Yorkshire, be the scene of the
romance that attaches to the history of
"Unfortunate Miss Bailey," I found no one in Nova
Scotia who could tell me, nor did the doleful ditty,
in which her woes are recorded, seem to be
known to anybody. Halifax is chiefly built of
wood, and contains only two streets of stone or
brick. These two would, probably, have
remained as wooden as the rest, if it had not been
for a beneficent conflagration that broke out a
few years ago and levelled them with the ground.
The whole city very narrowly escaping a similar
fate.

As we crossed the ferry I was reminded, as
every stranger is certain to be, that the harbour