tal lamps for some
grand gala. After this first burn, a _fallow_ presents a blackened scene
of desolation and confusion, and requires, indeed, a strong arm and a
stout heart to undertake its clearance; the small branches and
brush-wood alone have been burnt, but the large logs or trunks lie all
blackened but unconsumed. These must all be placed in regular piles or
heaps, which are again fired, and burn steadily for a few hours, after
which all traces of the noble forest are gone, save the blackened stumps
and a few white ashes; it is then ready for planting or sowing, with the
assistance of the hoe or harrow.

And now, kind reader, if you have accompanied me thus far, will you have
the kindness to suppose us fixed at last in our habitation--whitewashing,
painting, and scrubbing done, and all the fuss of moving over--our
fallow fenced and filled--the dark green stems of the wheat and oats
standing thick and tall--the buck-wheat spreading its broad leaves, and
the vines of the pumpkins and cucumbers running along the rich soil,
where grows in luxuriance the potatoe, that root, valuable to New
Brunswick

"As the bread-fruit tree
To the sunny isles of Owhyhee."

Suppose it, then, a bright and balmy day in the sunny ides of June--the
earth is now in all the luxuriant pride of her summer beauty; for
although the summer is long coming, yet, when it does begin, vegetation
is so rapid that a few short days call it forth in all its loveliness;
nay, the transition is so quick, that I have observed its workings in an
hour's space. In the red sunlight of the morn I have seen the trees with
their wintry sprays and brown leaf-buds all closed--when there fell a
soft and refreshing shower--again the sunbeams lit the sky, and oh! the
glorious change--the maple laughed out with her crimson blossoms and
fair green leaves--the beech-tree unfolded her emerald plumes--the fairy
stems of the aspen and birch were dancing in light, and the stately ash
was enwreathed with her garland of verdant green--the spirit of spring
seemed to have waved o'er them the wand of enchantment. On this bright
day, of which I now speak, all this mighty change had been accomplished,
and earth and air seemed all so delightful, one could hardly imagine
that it could be improved by aught added to or taken from it.

I am now just going to walk along the settlement to visit a friend, and
if you will accompany me, I shall most willingly be your Asmodeus. A
st