and political importance.

Sixty years ago, the spot that Belleville now occupies was in the
wilderness; and its rapid, sparkling river and sunny upland slopes
(which during the lapse of ages have formed a succession of banks to the
said river), were only known to the Indian hunter and the white trader.

Where you see those substantial stone wharfs, and the masts of those
vessels, unloading their valuable cargoes to replenish the stores of
the wealthy merchants in the town, a tangled cedar swamp spread its
dark, unwholesome vegetation into the bay, completely covering with
an impenetrable jungle those smooth verdant plains, now surrounded
with neat cottages and gardens.

Of a bright summer evening (and when is a Canadian summer evening
otherwise?) those plains swarm with happy, healthy children, who
assemble there to pursue their gambols beyond the heat and dust of the
town; or to watch with eager eyes the young men of the place engaged
in the manly old English game of cricket, with whom it is, in their
harmless boasting, "Belleville against Toronto-Cobourg; Kingston, the
whole world."

The editor of a Kingston paper once had the barbarity to compare these
valiant champions of the bat and ball to "singed cats--ugly to look at,
but very devils to go."

Our lads have never forgiven the insult; and should the said editor ever
show his face upon their ground, they would kick him off with as little
ceremony as they would a spent ball.