ready for us, to which, after a walk of eighteen miles, you may be sure
we did ample justice.

In the morning, we walked over the farm with the old Colonel, and were
much gratified by seeing the prosperous condition of the crops, which
argued well for the goodness of the land. I think I never saw a finer
crop of oats, or better promise for turnips, in my life. The wheat also
looked extremely well. It was certainly an interesting sight, after
walking for miles through a dense forest, suddenly to emerge from the
wooded solitude upon a sea of waving grain, white for the harvest.

"The Harvest! the Harvest! how fair on each plain
It waves in its golden luxuriance of grain!
The wealth of a nation is spread on the ground,
And the year with its joyful abundance is crowned.
The barley is whitening on upland and lea,
And the oat-locks are drooping, all graceful to see;
Like the long yellow hair of a beautiful maid,
When it flows on the breezes, unloosed from the braid.

"The Harvest! the Harvest! how brightly the sun
Looks down on the prospect! its toils are begun;
And the wheat-sheaves so thick on the valleys are piled,
That the land in its glorious profusion has smiled.
The reaper has shouted the furrows among;
In the midst of his labour he breaks into song;
And the light-hearted gleaners, forgetful of care,
Laugh loud, and exult as they gather their share.

Agnes Strickland.