Well-boring has become a regular business here with many ingenious and persevering men, and they each resort to many contrivances to obviate the various difficulties which occur; differing from each other, as individual experience, or the special occasion may seem to demand. Those who bore deep wells usually train a horse to work the windlass, or, in that case, capstan; and it is truly interesting to observe with what precision this effective assistant per forms his work at the words of execution, "Walk! Trot! Slow! Whoa! Turn! Back!" &c., &c. Knowing that in some parts of our country, thousands have been thrown away in fruitless attempts to find water convenient for man and beast, and thinking possibly some description of the way we manage this matter here, would be acceptable, "I have written what I have written." N.E.G. COLUMBUS, Miss., July 4th, 1851. MY NOVEL, OR, VARIETIES IN ENGLISH LIFE. [Continued from the August Number] CHAPTER XIII. Leonard and Helen settled themselves in two little chambers in a small lane. The neighborhood was dull enough--the accommodation humble; but their landlady had a smile. That was the reason, perhaps, why Helen chose the lodgings: a smile is not always found on the face of a landlady when the lodger is poor. And out of their windows they caught sight of a green tree, an elm, that grew up fair and tall in a carpenter's yard at the rear. That tree was like another smile to the place. They saw the birds come and go to its shelter; and they even heard, when a breeze arose, the pleasant murmur of its boughs. Leonard went the same evening to Captain Digby's old lodgings, but he could learn there no intelligence of friends or protectors for Helen. The people were rude and surly, and said that the Captain still owed them £1 17_s._ The claim, however, seemed very disputable, and was stoutly denied by Helen. The next morning Leonard set off in search of Dr. Morgan. He thought his best plan was to inquire the address of the Doctor at the nearest chemist's, and the chemist civilly looked into the _Court Guide_, and referred him to a house in Bulstrode-street, Manchester-square. To this street Leonard contrived to find his way, much marveling at the meanness of London: Screwstown seemed to him the handsomer town of the two. A shabby man-servant opened the door, and Leonard remarked that the narrow passage was choked with boxes, trunks, and various articles of furniture. He was shown into a small room, containing a very large round table, whereon were sundry works on homeopathy, Parry's _Cymbrian Plutarch_, Davies' _Celtic Researches_, and a Sunday newspaper. An engraved portrait of the illustrious Hahnemann occupied the place of honor over the chimney-piece. In a few minutes the door to an inner room opened, and Dr. Morgan appeared, and said politely, "Come in sir."