who, after a few years of hard toil, can
sit down in his own log-house, and look abroad on his own land, and see
his children well settled in life as independent freeholders. It is a
grand country for the rich speculator, who can afford to lay out a large
sum in purchasing land in eligible situations; for if he have any
judgment, he will make a hundred per cent as interest for his money
after waiting a few years. But it is a hard country for the poor
gentleman, whose habits have rendered him unfit for manual labour. He
brings with him a mind unfitted to his situation; and even if necessity
compels him to exertion, his labour is of little value. He has a hard
struggle to live. The certain expenses of wages and living are great,
and he is obliged to endure many privations if he would keep within
compass, and be free of debt. If he have a large family, and brings them
up wisely, so as to adapt themselves early to a settler's life, why he
does well for them, and soon feels the benefit on his own land; but if
he is idle himself, his wife extravagant and discontented, and the
children taught to despise labour, why, madam, they will soon be brought
down to ruin. In short, the country is a good country for those to whom
it is adapted; but if people will not conform to the doctrine of
necessity and expediency, they have no business in it. It is plain
Canada is not adapted to every class of people."

"It was never adapted for me or my family," said the lady, disdainfully.

"Very true," was the laconic reply; and so ended the dialogue.

But while I have been recounting these remarks, I have wandered far from
my original subject, and left my poor log-house quite in an unfinished
state. At last I was told it was in a habitable condition, and I was
soon engaged in all the bustle and fatigue attendant on removing our
household goods. We received all the assistance we required from ------,
who is ever ready and willing to help us. He laughed, and called it a
"_moving_ bee;" I said it was a "fixing bee;" and my husband said it was
a "settling bee;" I know we were unsettled enough till it was over. What
a din of desolation is a small house, or any house under such
circumstances. The idea of chaos must have been taken from a removal or
a setting to rights, for I suppose the ancients had their _flitting_, as
the Scotch call it, as well as the moderns.

Various were the valuable articles of crockery-ware that perished in
their short but