A WORD TO GENTEEL EMIGRANTS.


The tide of emigration is rushing so powerfully through the land, that
not only labourers and artisans are swept away in its stream, but many
of the gentry of the country are beginning to join in the movement,
and wonder what they are to do with their young 'olive branches,'
'unless they emigrate to Australia, and found a new home and plant a
new family there.' Many of the class have taken this step, and many
more are lingering on the brink; and endless and anxious are the
inquiries constantly made for the reports transmitted by those
adventurous spirits who have led the way to new worlds of enterprise.
For the working-classes, all has hitherto been favourable; but for the
class above them--the professional man, and the small capitalist--the
accounts are not, on the whole, encouraging. 'The labour-market is
never overstocked; but,' says a correspondent of a later date, 'I pity
the professional men, the doctors and lawyers, who come out, and the
clerks, few of whom are wanted, and who find provisions and house-rent
much dearer than at home, and to whom the privations they undergo must
be great hardships. Men used to the everyday luxuries of a London
life, delicate women bred up in habits of expense and idleness, have a
severe ordeal to go through on their arrival in that land of work.'
The change of climate, and the discomfort of their hastily-raised
log-cabin, often entered upon when not half dried, frequently produce
fevers, which, at home, would require a long succession of nursing,
medical attendance, and afterwards change of air; but with only a