To J. J. Smith, Esq. - Dear Sir: In your May number, I observe that my friend, Jeffreys (may he live a thousand years, and his shadow never be less), in his "Critique," has doubts about our native wine being an aid to the temperance cause, and cites the abuse of it as a reason. Now this is scarcely fair, for they have very sour eider in his vicinity, and his neighbors should be excused for an extra indulgence, when they get a good glass of native wine.

If it is possible for us to become a strictly temperate people, than Jeffreys is right, and I am wrong. But otherwise then the least hurtful potations we can introduce and make customary, the hotter. I sincerely believe, from what I have already seen, that our native wines will meet this object. This is our experience here, and the fact is fully sustained by all who have visited the wine countries of Europe. Quite an impartial opinion, you will say, coming from a wine-grower!! It is not every doctor, however, that likes to take his own medicine, and I confess, for my part, that I prefer a cop of buttermilk at dinner, in summer, to the best glass of wine that ever sparkled on the hoard. But tastes differ, and many would prefer the wine.

In looking at this matter in all its bearings, I am disposed to adopt the views of honest Father Mulrooney, expressed, some forty years ago, to his flock in a western town.

The good man had a hard set to deal with - a frollicking, rollicking, drinking congregation as could be found in the suburbs of any city, and they fairly worried the life out of him, as he said* At last, after a strong temperance exhortation, which he feared would have no effect, he closed as follows: "Now, I am afraid all this admonition will he thrown away on you hardened sinners* You know you have been vexing the very life out of me, you haythen, and sorra the bit do I believe you will heed me; so, if you will drink, and make brute bastes of yourselves, go to Barney Coylc's; he is a dacent lad, and keeps the best liquors in the town".

Let us apply this to the native wine. E. Buchanan.

Cincinnati, August 19,1856.