Yet this was the woman who had given me such a plausible lecture
on pride. Alas, for our fallen nature! Which is more subversive of
peace and Christian fellowship--ignorance of our own characters,
or the characters of others?

Our departure for the woods became now a frequent theme of
conversation. My husband had just returned from an exploring
expedition to the backwoods, and was delighted with the prospect of
removing thither. The only thing I listened to in their praise, with
any degree of interest, was a lively song, which he had written
during his brief sojourn at Douro:--


TO THE WOODS!--TO THE WOODS!

To the woods!--to the woods!--The sun shines bright,
The smoke rises high in the clear frosty air;
Our axes are sharp, and our hearts are light,
Let us toil while we can and drive away care.
Though homely our food, we are merry and strong,
And labour is wealth, which no man can deny;
At eve we will chase the dull hours with a song,
And at grey peep of dawn let this be our cry,

To the woods!--to the woods!--&c.

Hark! how the trees crack in the keen morning blast,
And see how the rapids are cover'd with steam;
Thaw your axes, my lads, the sun rises fast,
And gilds the pine tops with his bright golden beam.