estate in the county of Cork. He arrived safely with his family at the
Big Bay in Whitby (Windsor,) and purchased a lot of land close to the
lake-shore.

In those days, the emigrant's trials were indeed hard, compared with
what they are now. The country was quite unsettled, excepting that here
and there the nucleus of a small village appeared to vary its
loneliness, for the clearings were mostly confined to the vicinity of
the Great Lake. There were no plank, gravel, or macadamized roads then;
saw and grist-mills were few-and-far-between. It was no uncommon thing
then for a farmer to go thirty or forty miles to mill, which cause
indeed sometimes detained him a whole week from his family; and, even
more, if any accident had happened to the machinery. Besides this
inconvenience, he had to encounter risks for himself and his cattle,--
from bad bridges, deep mud-holes, and many other annoyances--I might
say, with truth, "too numerous to mention." The few farms in that
neighbourhood were then chiefly occupied by Americans, some of whom had
found it highly desirable to expatriate themselves; and might have
exclaimed with the celebrated pick-pocket, Barrington, in a prologue
spoken to a convict-audience in New South Wales,--

"Friends, be it understood,
We left our country for our country's good."

I have no intention of reflecting here on the national honour of the
American nation; but it is a well-known fact, that many of the early
frontier settlers were persons who had evaded the payment of their just
debts or, perhaps, legal penalties for worse offences, by crossing the
lines, and forming settlements in Canada. Such persons are not a fair
specimen of American character. Individually, I have nothing to say