it."

Connecticut should be proud of her poets: not as literary luminaries of
the first magnitude, but as manly citizens, who sincerely loved justice,
order, self-control;--in two words, genuine freedom; as cultivated
gentlemen, who belonged to a class no longer numerous.

"This small, this blest secluded State
Still meets unmoved the blasts of Fate."

Unmoved, indeed, as in Federal times, but suffering sadly from
depletion. The great West and the city of New York have sucked her best
blood. There still remain inventive machinists, acute money-changers,
acutest peddlers; but the seed of the Muses has run out. No more
Pleiades at Hartford; no three "mighties," like Hosmer, Ellsworth, and
Johnson; no lawyers of infinite wit, like Tracy and Daggett; no Wolcotts
or Shermans: but the small State can boast that she has still within her
borders many sons full of the spirit shown by Comfort Sage and by Return
Jonathan Meigs, when they marched for Boston at the head of their
companies as soon as the news of Lexington reached Connecticut.

FOOTNOTES:

[B] It may interest temperance men to learn that somewhat later than the
period alluded to above, Connecticut paid excise on 400,000 gallons of
rum yearly,--about two gallons to each inhabitant, young and old, male
and female.

[C] Philip Freneau, whose Jacobin newspaper was despised by all good
Federalists, wrote better verses than the All Connecticut Seven. His
"Indian Burying-Ground" is worthy of a place in an anthology. This
stanza has often been ascribed to Campbell; it is as good as any one in
Schiller's "Nadowessie Death-Lament,"--

"By midnight moons, o'er glistening dews,
In vestments for the chase arrayed,
The hunter still the deer pursues;
The hunter and the deer a shade."

ICE AND ESQUIMAUX.

CHAPTER III.

BIRDS AND BOY'S PLAY.

Our schooner sailed once up and down the coast of Labrador, skirting it
for a distance of five hundred miles; but in these papers I sail back
and forth as many times as I please. Having, therefore, followed up the
ice, I am again at Sleupe Harbor, our first port, and invite thee to go
with us in a day's pursuit of Eider-Duck; for among these innumerable
islands the eider breeds, and not elsewhere in considerable numbers, so
far as we could learn, short of--somewhere in the remote North.
Bradford, this morning, June 15th, has hired the two Canadians to take
him to the bird-haunts in their own bo