The knowledge of the causes which promote the rapid settlement of a new country, and of those in general which lead to the improvement of the physical condition of mankind may be compared to the knowledge of a language.  The inhabitant of a civilised and long-settled country may speak and write his own language with the greatest purity, but very few ever reflect on the amount of thought, metaphor, and ingenuity which has been expended by their less civilised ancestors in bringing that language to perfection.  The barbarian first feels the disadvantage of a limited means of communicating his ideas, and with great labour and ingenuity devises the means, from time to time, to remedy the imperfections of his language.  He is compelled to analyse and study it in its first elements, and to augment the modes of expression in order to keep pace with the increasing number of his wants and ideas.

A colony bears the same relation to an old-settled country that a grammar does to a language.  In a colony, society is seen in its first elements, the country itself is in its rudest and simplest form.  The colonist knows them in this primitive state, and watches their progress step by step.  In this manner he acquires an intimate knowledge of the philosophy of improvement, which is almost unattainable by an individual who has lived from his childhood in a highly complex and artificial state of society, where everything around him was formed and arranged long before he came into the world; he sees the effects, the causes existed long before his time.  His place in society—­his portion of the wealth of the country—­his prejudices—­his religion itself, if he has any, are all more or less hereditary.  He is in some measure a mere machine, or rather a part of one.  He is a creature of education, rather than of original thought.

The colonist has to create—­he has to draw on his own stock of ideas, and to rouse up all his latent energies to meet all his wants in his new position.  Thus his thinking principle is strengthened, and he is more energetic.  When a moderate share of education is added to these advantages—­for they are advantages in one sense—­he becomes a superior being.

I have indulged in these reflections, with manifest risk of being thought somewhat prosy by my more lively readers, in order to guard my countrymen, English, Scotch, and Irish, against a kind of presumption which is exceedingly common among them when they come to Canada—­of fancying that they are as capable of forming correct opinions on local matters as the Canadians themselves.  It is always somewhat humbling to our self-love to be compelled to confess what may be considered an error of judgment, but my desire to guard future settlers against similar mistakes overpowers my reluctance to own that I fell into the common error of many of my countrymen, of purchasing wild land, on speculation, with a very inadequate capital.  This was one of the chief causes of much suffering, in which for many years my family became involved; but through which, supported by trust in Providence, and the energy of a devoted partner, I continued by her aid to struggle, until when least expected, the light of hope at length dawned upon us.