September is the most beautiful month in the Canadian year. The weather
is neither too hot nor too cold. Nothing can be more delightfully
pleasant; for, in this month, the foliage of the trees begins to put on
that gorgeous livery for which the North American continent is so
justly celebrated. Every variety of tint, from the brightest scarlet
and deepest orange, yellow and green, with all the intermediate shades
blended together, form one of the most beautiful natural pictures you
can possibly conceive.

I received a very pressing invitation from my wife's brother-in-law,
who resided near the foot of Rice Lake, in the township of Otonabee, to
come and spend a few days with him. As an additional inducement, he
promised to show me some capital duck-shooting. I was too fond of
fowling to decline such an invitation as this. Besides, I wished to see
that new settlement. The township lies north of Rice Lake, which forms
its southern boundary: it is the largest in the county of Peterborough,
with the exception of Harvey. Otonabee contains above eighty thousand
acres, and is now the most populous as well as one of the most fertile
townships in the county, which, at the time of which I am writing, had
been just opened by the Government for location.

The only practicable road then to this settlement was from Cobourg,
distant twelve miles from the southern shore of Rice Lake, leading over
a chain of hills, the highest of which is, I believe, about seven
hundred feet above the level of Lake Ontario, and from whence, on a
very clear day, the opposite shore may be seen, though the distance is
nearly sixty-five miles. I have heard this statement disputed, but I am
perfectly convinced of the truth from having myself seen, on several
occasions, the United States' shore of the lake from White's Hill,