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Rh "—or, as Goldsmith entitles them, "their country's pride"—from which we beg leave to differ—"the peasantry." Not that we are in the least detracting from a body of people whose honesty and industry we are most ready to acknowledge when we find them; but thinking as we do, that the watchword of the day, "amelioration," could never be better put into action than for the benefit of this very class—when we consider the want—and want is the parent of more crime than even idleness, that root of all evil, as our copy books assure us—the ignorance, often almost brutality—the discontent, so sadly justified by toil, so unredeemed by ought of higher hope—the mornings of hard work—the weekly evenings of dispute—and the Sabbath evening of drunkenness;—truly, a country which considers such a race as "her pride," is deplorably in want of something to be proud of. Let any one who indulges in such mischievous (we say mischievous, where these reveries take the place of remedies) visions of rural felicity, spend a week in the house of any country justice. The innocence of the country is very much like its health—a sort of refuge for the destitute: the poet talks of its innocence, from not