I have been repeatedly asked, since the publication of "Roughing it
in the Bush," to give an account of the present state of society in
the colony, and to point out its increasing prosperity and commercial
advantages; but statistics are not my forte, nor do I feel myself
qualified for such an arduous and important task. My knowledge of the
colony is too limited to enable me to write a comprehensive work on
a subject of vital consequence, which might involve the happiness of
others. But what I do know I will endeavour to sketch with a light
pencil; and if I cannot convey much useful information, I will try to
amuse the reader; and by a mixture of prose and poetry compile a small
volume, which may help to while away an idle hour, or fill up the blanks
of a wet day.

Belleville, Canada West,
Nov. 24th, 1852.


Indian Summer.

By the purple haze that lies
On the distant rocky height,
By the deep blue of the skies,
By the smoky amber light,
Through the forest arches streaming.
Where nature on her throne sits dreaming,
And the sun is scarcely gleaming
Through the cloudlet's snowy white,
Winter's lovely herald greets us,
Ere the ice-crown'd tyrant meets us.