lume of sulphureous smoke from the copper furnaces of Anglesey
intercepted our view.

"Squire," said he, "it is impossible for us to contemplate this country,
that now lies before us, without strong emotion. It is our fatherland.
I recollect when I was a colonist, as you are, we were in the habit of
applying to it, in common with Englishmen, that endearing appellation
"Home," and I believe you still continue to do so in the provinces.
Our nursery tales, taught our infant lips to lisp in English, and the
ballads, that first exercised our memories, stored the mind with the
traditions of our forefathers; their literature was our literature,
their religion our religion, their history our history. The battle of
Hastings, the murder of Becket, the signature of Runymede, the execution
at Whitehall; the divines, the poets, the orators, the heroes, the
martyrs, each and all were familiar to us.

"In approaching this country now, after a lapse of many, many years,
and approaching it too for the last time, for mine eyes shall see it no
more, I cannot describe to you the feelings that agitate my heart. I go
to visit the tombs of my ancestors; I go to my home, and my home knoweth
me no more. Great and good, and brave and free are the English; and may
God grant that they may ever continue so!"

"I cordially join in that prayer, Sir," said I; "you have a country
of your own. The old colonies having ripened into maturity, formed a
distinct and separate family, in the great community of mankind. You are
now a nation of yourselves, and your attachment to England, is of course
subordinate to that of your own country; you view it as the place that
was in days of yore the home of your forefathers; we regard it as the
paternal estate, continuing to call it 'Home' as you have just now
observed. We owe it a debt of gratitude that not only cannot be repaid,
but is too great for expression. Their armies protect us within, and
their fleets defend us, and our commerce without. Their government is
not only paternal and indulgent, but is wholly gratuitous. We neither
pay these forces, nor feed them, nor clothe them. We not only raise no
taxes, but are not expected to do so. The blessings of true religion are
diffused among us, by the pious liberality of England, and a collegiate
establishment at Windsor, supported by British friends, has for years
supplied the Church, the Bar and the Legislature with scholars and
gentlemen. Where the national fund