like
all other physic, it was very unpalatable.

"After all," said S------, with a thoughtful air, "the blessings and the
evils of this life owe their chief effect to the force of contrast, and
are to be estimated by that principally. We should not appreciate the
comforts we enjoy half so much did we not occasionally feel the want of
them. How we shall value the conveniences of a cleared farm after a few
years, when we can realize all the necessaries and many of the luxuries
of life."

"And how we shall enjoy green tea after this odious decoction of
hemlock," said I.

"Very true; and a comfortable frame-house, and nice garden, and pleasant
pastures, after these dark forests, log-houses, and no garden at all."

"And the absence of horrid black stumps," rejoined I. "Yes, and the
absence of horrid stumps. Depend upon it, my dear, your Canadian farm
will seem to you a perfect paradise by the time it is all under
cultivation; and you will look upon it with the more pleasure and pride
from the consciousness that it was once a forest wild, which, by the
effects of industry and well applied means, has changed to fruitful
fields. Every fresh comfort you realize around you will add to your
happiness; every improvement within-doors or without will raise a
sensation of gratitude and delight in your mind, to which those that
revel in the habitual enjoyment of luxury, and even of the commonest
advantages of civilization, must in a great degree be strangers. My
pass-words are, 'Hope! Resolution! and Perseverance!'"

"This," said my husband, "is true philosophy; and the more forcible,
because you not only recommend the maxim but practise it also."

I had reckoned much on the Indian summer, of which I had read such
delightful descriptions, but I must say it has fallen far below my
expectations. Just at the commencement of this month (November) we
experienced three or four warm hazy days, that proved rather close and
oppressive. The sun looked red through the misty atmosphere, tinging the
fantastic clouds that hung in smoky volumes, with saffron and pale
crimson light, much as I have seen the clouds above London look on a
warm, sultry spring morning.

Not a breeze ruffled the waters, not a leaf (for the leaves had not
entirely fallen) moved. This perfect stagnation of the air was suddenly
changed by a hurricane of wind and snow that came on without any
previous warning. I was standing near a group of tall pines that had
been lef