trowsers are tightly strapped, and the little low-crowned hat, with a streaming ribbon, is placed most jauntily on his head.  His axe is carried over one shoulder and his jacket over the other, which in summer is the common mode of carrying this part of the apparel.  Those who have been lumbering may easily be known among the others, by sporting a flashy stock or waistcoat, and by being arrayed in “boughten” clothes, procured in town at a most expensive rate in lieu of their lumber.  Little respect is, however, paid here to the cloth, (that is, broadcloth), for it is a sure sign of bad management, and most likely of debt, for the back settlers to be arrayed in any thing but their own home-made clothing.  The grave and serious demeanour of these people is as different from the savage scowl of the discontented peasant, murmuring beneath the burthen of taxation and ill-remunerated toil, as from the free, light-hearted, and careless laughter, both of which characterise the rural groups in the fertile fields of England.  New Brunswick is the land of strangers; even the first settlers, the “sons of the soil,” as they claim to be, have hardly yet forgot their exile, a trace of which character, be he prosperous as he may, still hovers over the emigrant.  Their early home, with its thousand ties of love, cannot be all forgotten.  This feeling descends to their children, losing its tone of sadness, but throwing a serious shade over the national character, which, otherwise has nothing gloomy or melancholy in its composition.  There is also a kind of “looking a-head” expression of countenance natural to the country, which is observed even in the children, who are not the careless frolicsome beings they are in other countries, but are here more truly miniature men and women, looking, as the Yankees express it, as if they had all cut their “eye-teeth.”

But here we are, for the present, arrived at the bourne of our journey.  High on a lofty hill before us stands a large frame building, the place of worship as well as the principal school-house of the settlement.  This double purpose it is not, however, destined long to be devoted to, for the building of a church is already in contemplation, and will, no doubt, soon be proceeded with.  The beaming sun is shining with dazzling radiance on its white walls, telling, in fervent whispers, that a shelter from the heat will be desirable; so here we will enter, where the shadowy trees, and bright stream glancing through the garden flowers, speak of inhabitants from the olden world.  A frame building has been joined to the original log-house, and the dwelling thus made large enough to accommodate the household.  Mrs. Gordon, the lady of the mansion, and the friend I have come thus far to see, is one of those persons the brilliance of whose gem-like character has been increased by the hard rubs of the world.  She has experienced much of Time’s chance and change—­experiences and trials which deserve relating at large, and which