is nothing rich or costly, yet there is such an air of neatness diffused over it, and effect brought out, that they always recalled to me the painted cottage scenes of a theatre.  But here is a house at which I have a call to make, and which will illustrate the “menage” of a New Brunswicker.  Remember, this is not one of the old settlers, who have overcome all the toil and inconvenience of clearing and building, and are now enjoying the comforts they have earned, but it is the log-house of a new farm, around which the stumps yet stand thick and strong, and where the ringing of the axe is yet heard incessantly.  In this working country people are, in general, like the famous Mrs. Gilpin, who, though on pleasure bent, had yet a frugal mind, and contrive to make business and amusement go together; and although I had left home with the intention of paying a visit, a little business induces me to pause here, ere I proceed to where I intended; and even here, while arranging this, I shall enjoy myself as much as though I were sackless of thought or interest in anything save amusement.  The manufacture of the wool raised on the farm is the most important part of the women’s work, and in this the natives particularly excel.  As yet I knew not the mysteries of colouring brown with butternut bark, nor the proper proportion of sweet fern and indigo to produce green, so that our wool, on its return from the carding mill, had been left with this person—­lady, “par courtesie,”—­who was a perfect adept in the art, to be spun and wove:  and the business on which I now call is to arrange with her as to its different proportions and purposes.  What for blankets, for clothing, or for socks and mittens, which all require a different style of manufacture, and are all items of such importance during the winter snows.  Melancthon Grey, whose most Christian and protestant appellation was abbreviated into “Lank,” was a true-blooded blue nose.  His father had a noble farm of rich intervale on the banks of the river Saint John, and was well to do in the world.  Lank was his eldest son, yet no heritage was his, save his axe and the arm which swung it.  The law of primogeniture exists not in this country, and the youngest son is frequently heir to that land on which the older ones have borne the “heat and burthen of the day,” and rendered valuable by their toil, until each chooses his own portion in the world, by taking unto himself a wife and a lot of forest land, and thus another hard-won homestead is raised, and sons enough to choose among for heirs.  Melancthon Grey had wedded his cousin, a custom common among the “blue noses,” and which most likely had its origin in the patriarchal days of the earlier settlers, when the inhabitants were few.  Sybel was a sweet pretty girl, deficient, as the Americans all are, in those high-toned feelings which characterise the depth of woman’s love in the countries of Europe, yet made, as they generally do, an affectionate