entered into with spirit, all feeling sensible of the benefits which it would bring; they who could afford it giving freely of their abundance, and those who could not pay their subscription all in money, giving half a dollar cash, and a bushel or half a bushel of buck wheat or potatoes to the cause; and thus the sum necessary was soon raised—­the courier himself subscribing a dollar towards his own salary.  The thing had gone on very well—­communication with the world seemed to have commenced all at once.  Nearly every family took a different newspaper, and these being exchanged with each other, afforded plenty of food for the mind, and prevented it brooding too deeply over the realities of life.

The newspapers in this country, especially those of the United States, are not merely dull records of parliamentary doings, of bill and debate, the rising of corn or falling of wheat, but contain besides reviews and whole copies of the newest and best works of the day, both in science and lighter literature.  We dwellers of the forest had no guineas to give for new books, and if we had, unless we freighted ships home on purpose, we could not have procured them.  But this was not felt, while for our few yearly dollars the Albion’s pearly paper and clear black type brought for society around our hearths the laughter-loving “Lorrequer,” the pathos of the portrait painter, or the soul-winning Christopher North, whose every word seems written in letters of gold, incrusted with precious jewels.  In the “New World” Froissart gave his chronicles of the olden time, and the mammoth sheets of “Era” and “The Notion” brought us the peerless pages of “Zanoni,” or led us away with “Dickens” and “Little Nell,” by the green glades and ancient churches of England.  Little did we think while we read with delight of this author’s princely welcome to the American continent, what would be the result of his visit, he came and passed like the wild Simoom.  Soon after his return to England an edict came, forbidding in the British provinces of America publications containing reprints of English works.  Of the deeper matters connected with the copyright question I know not, but this I do know, that our long winter nights seemed doubly long and drear, with nothing to read but dark details of horrid murder, or deadly doings of Rebeccaite and Chartist.  As yet, however, this time was not come, and each passing week saw us now enlightened with the rays of some new bright gem of genius.

The postman blew his horn as he passed each dwelling for whose inmates he had letters or papers; and for those whose address lay beyond his route, places of depository were appointed in the settlement.  Mrs. Gordon’s was one of these, from whence they were duly despatched by the first chance to their destinations on the Nashwaak, Waterloo, or Windsor clearings.  Although our Mercury would duly have signalised his approach as he passed our own dwelling, I possessed myself of my treasure here—­my share of