It is one of the feelings of human nature to be possessed with a
desire to worship the great and titled, to become enamoured with
those appendages, which are the symbols of social distinction. Let
us consider how we, as a people, are privileged. Is there any
grander title this side of Heaven than found in these words, "I am a
British subject," and next "I am a New Brunswicker"? You who have
travelled have often felt your hearts rebound when listening to the
eulogiums passed upon our country and its gifted sons through the
medium of the pulpit, the platform and the press. "He is a New
Brunswick boy." Ah, those words are sufficient to inspire us with
thoughts ennobling, grand and elevating. There are to be found
growlers in every clime, and it is only such that will desert their
fatherland and seek refuge under foreign skies. We have liberty,
right, education, refinement and culture in our midst; we have a
good government, noble reforms, and all advantages to make us good
and happy. Then let us cherish every right and institution which
makes our beloved New Brunswick the pride of its loyal people. It is
such feeling which prompts this work, and if the different scenes
throughout the province which we will endeavor to portray, the
usages of society, custom, &c., and the few characters introduced
from real life, meet your approbation, our highest expectation will
be realized.

Now back to our fair city.

On this New Year's Eve the moon was holding high carnival. Wrapped
in a costume of silvery radiance, she was displaying her charms to
the busy throng beneath with all the coquetry she could summon, to
her aid, darting quick glances at youths and maidens, and by
covert smiles bringing even the middle-aged man of business to her