But one stood beside me whose presence repress’d
  The deep pang of sorrow that troubled my breast;
  And the babe on my bosom so calmly reclining,
  Check’d the tears as they rose, and all useless repining. 
  Hard indeed was the struggle, from thee forced to roam;
  But for their sakes I quitted both country and home.

  Bless’d Isle of the Free!  I must view thee no more;
  My fortunes are cast on this far-distant shore;
  In the depths of dark forests my soul droops her wings;
  In tall boughs above me no merry bird sings;
  The sigh of the wild winds—­the rush of the floods—­
  Is the only sad music that wakens the woods.

  In dreams, lovely England! my spirit still hails
  Thy soft waving woodlands, thy green, daisied vales. 
  When my heart shall grow cold to the mother that bore me,
  When my soul, dearest Nature! shall cease to adore thee,
  And beauty and virtue no longer impart
  Delight to my bosom, and warmth to my heart,
  Then the love I have cherish’d, my country, for thee,
  In the breast of thy daughter extinguish’d shall be.

CHAPTER V

OUR FIRST SETTLEMENT, AND THE BORROWING SYSTEM

  To lend, or not to lend—­is that the question?

“Those who go a-borrowing, go a-sorrowing,” saith the old adage; and a wiser saw never came out of the mouth of experience.  I have tested the truth of this proverb since my settlement in Canada, many, many times, to my cost; and what emigrant has not?  So averse have I ever been to this practice, that I would at all times rather quietly submit to a temporary inconvenience than obtain anything I wanted in this manner.  I verily believe that a demon of mischief presides over borrowed goods, and takes a wicked pleasure in playing off a thousand malicious pranks upon you the moment he enters your dwelling.  Plates and dishes, that had been the pride and ornament of their own cupboard for years, no sooner enter upon foreign service than they are broken; wine-glasses and tumblers, that have been handled by a hundred careless wenches in safety, scarcely pass into the hands of your servants when they are sure to tumble upon the floor, and the accident turns out a compound fracture.  If you borrow a garment of any kind, be sure that you will tear it; a watch, that you will break it; a jewel, that you will lose it; a book, that it will be stolen from you.  There is no end to the trouble and vexation arising out of this evil habit.  If you borrow a horse, and he has the reputation of being the best-behaved animal in the district, you no sooner become responsible for his conduct than he loses his character.  The moment that you attempt to drive him, he shows that he has a will of his own, by taking the reins into his own management, and running away in a contrary direction to the road that you wished him to travel.  He never gives over his eccentric capers until he has broken his own knees, and the borrowed carriage and harness.  So anxious are you about his safety, that you have not a moment to bestow upon your own.  And why?—­the beast is borrowed, and you are expected to return him in as good condition as he came to you.