York is a scattered hamlet of good farm-houses. The country is highly interesting. A lofty hill, or mountain, called Mount Bakewell, confines the view on one side, and below it is the river Avon, a broad stream in winter, but in summer consisting only of deep pools in various parts of its course. The neighbourhood is beautifully wooded, and has the appearance of a park. In the centre of the hamlet a modest-looking, white-washed church "rears its meek fane." Nothing could be more peaceful and serene than the whole aspect of the place. At my brother's farm, comprising 4,000 acres, the property of R. H. Bland, Esq., Protector of Natives, we found a hearty reception, and a very pleasant dwelling-house. For several days it was filled with young men who had come from various parts of the colony to attend the races. These gentlemen were most of them young men of good family, and well educated, who having only a small patrimony, and having been brought up to no trade or profession, had come out to a colony in the hope of acquiring landed estates, and of founding in this part of the world a family of their own. In the meantime they had to drive their teams, shear their sheep, thresh their corn, and exhibit their skill in husbandry; whilst their houses were as ill arranged and uncomfortable as could be expected from the superintendence of bachelors who thought more of their stables than of the appearance of their rooms. They care more about good horses than good cooks, and in most cases prefer doing without kitchen stuff rather than be troubled with a garden. Freedom of discourse and ease of manner characterize the social meetings of our bachelor aristocracy "over the hills."