"Paint me as I am - warts and all!" said stern old Oli-VER Cromwell, to the artist who was taking his portrait. It is the strangest thing in the world, when God has made a spot - and made it right - that men should want to spend a small mint of money to pervert nature, and twist it into other shapes, merely to show that they can do it. Why, anybody can mark out a chess-board, or build a flight of steps, with earth, as well as with timber, although he may call one a rectangular lawn or garden, and the other a line of terraces.

There is hardly a spot of earth of any magnitude, but what has a character of its own - an expression, suitable, in the hands of a oensible man, to make it agreeable and pleasant. Then why not be content with its natural capabilities, which, when only " slicked up," gives it its own peculiar beauty, beyond all the expense and conventional expression which spade, plough, or shovel, will add to it? The last paragraph of the article in question, is living perpetual, truth.