of fish.

Next day, travelling along the river's banks, was an uninterrupted
pleasure. We closed our drive in the afternoon at the house of an
English gentleman, who has gratified, as few men do, the common wish
to pass the evening of an active day amid the quiet influences of
country life. He showed us a bookcase filled with books about this
country; these he had collected for years, and become so familiar with
the localities, that, on coming here at last, he sought and found, at
once, the very spot he wanted, and where he is as content as he hoped
to be, thus realizing Wordsworth's description of the wise man, who
"sees what he foresaw."

A wood surrounds the house, through which paths are cut in every
direction. It is, for this new country, a large and handsome dwelling;
but round it are its barns and farm-yard, with cattle and poultry.
These, however, in the framework of wood, have a very picturesque and
pleasing effect. There is that mixture of culture and rudeness in the
aspect of things which gives a feeling of freedom, not of confusion.

I wish, it were possible to give some idea of this scene, as viewed
by the earliest freshness of dewy dawn. This habitation of man seemed
like a nest in the grass, so thoroughly were the buildings and all
the objects of human care harmonized with, what was natural. The tall
trees bent and whispered all around, as if to hail with, sheltering
love the men who had come to dwell among them.

The young ladies were musicians, and spoke French fluently, having
been educated in a convent. Here in the prairie, they had learned to
take care of the milk-room, and kill the rattlesnakes that assailed
their poultry-yard. Beneath the shade of heavy curtains you looked out
from the high and large windows to see Norwegian peasants at work in
their national dress. In the wood grew, not only the flowers I had
before seen, and wealth of tall, wild roses, but the splendid blue
spiderwort, that ornament of our gardens. Beautiful children strayed
there, who were soon to leave these civilized regions for some really
wild and western place, a post in the buffalo country. Their no less
beautiful mother was of Welsh descent, and the eldest child bore
the name of Gwynthleon. Perhaps there she will meet with some young
descendants of Madoc, to be her friends; at any rate, her looks may
retain that sweet, wild beauty, that is soon made to vanish from eyes
which look too much on shops and streets, and t