I shall very soon begin to collect a hortas siccus for Eliza, with a description of the plants, growth, and qualities.  Any striking particulars respecting them I shall make notes of; and tell her she may depend on my sending my specimens, with seeds of such as I can collect, at some fitting opportunity.

I consider this country opens a wide and fruitful field to the inquiries of the botanist.  I now deeply regret I did not benefit by the frequent offers Eliza made me of prosecuting a study which I once thought dry, but now regard as highly interesting, and the fertile source of mental enjoyment, especially to those who, living in the bush, must necessarily be shut out from the pleasures of a large circle of friends, and the varieties that a town or village offer.

On Sunday I went to church; the first opportunity I had had of attending public worship since I was in the Highlands of Scotland; and surely I had reason to bow my knees in thankfulness to that merciful God who had brought us through the perils of the great deep and the horrors of the pestilence.

Never did our beautiful Liturgy seem so touching and impressive as it did that day,—­offered up in our lowly log-built church in the wilderness.

This simple edifice is situated at the foot of a gentle slope on the plains, surrounded by groups of oak and feathery pines, which, though inferior in point of size to the huge pines and oaks of the forest, are far more agreeable to the eye, branching out in a variety of fantastic forms.  The turf here is of an emerald greenness:  in short, it is a sweet spot, retired from the noise and bustle of the town, a fitting place in which to worship God in spirit and in truth.

There are many beautiful walks towards the Smith town hills, and along the banks that overlook the river.  The summit of this ridge is sterile, and is thickly set with loose blocks of red and grey granite, interspersed with large masses of limestone scattered in every direction; they are mostly smooth and rounded, as if by the action of water.  As they are detached, and merely occupy the surface of the ground, it seemed strange to me how they came at that elevation.  A geologist would doubtless be able to solve the mystery in a few minutes.  The oaks that grow on this high bank are rather larger and more flourishing than those in the valleys and more fertile portions of the soil.

Behind the town, in the direction of the Cavan and Emily roads, is a wide space which I call the “squatter’s ground,” it being entirely covered with shanties, in which the poor emigrants, commuted pensioners, and the like, have located themselves and families.  Some remain here under the ostensible reason of providing a shelter for their wives and children till they have prepared a home for their reception on their respective grants; but not unfrequently it happens that they are too indolent, or really unable to work on their lots, often situated many miles in the backwoods, and in distant and unsettled townships, presenting great obstacles to the poor emigrant, which it requires more energy and courage to encounter than is possessed by a vast number of them.  Others, of idle and profligate habits, spend the money they received, and sell the land, for which they gave away their pensions, after which they remain miserable squatters on the shanty ground.