1818.] as a Place of Emigration. thick with black currants, and cherries equally good, but little regarded by the settlers, who all enter into the timber trade, with a zeal that often proves fatal to their farming concerns. Mutton is very cheap, and pigs are to be had for a mere trifle. The poorest families will sit down to a roast pig, wild ducks and salmon every day in the week; the latter being caught by the Indians, and sold for a glass of rum, or a charge of gunpowder, or given away for a word in praise of their squaws and children. As I mean not to confine myself to regularity of description, but set down what comes first in my thoughts, I shall here remark, that land may be purchased from Lord Selkirk or General Fanning's executors, in the best part of the island, at a dollar per acre, with the timber standing, or cleared land at eighteen shillings per acre for "life everlasting;" such is the term used in a final freehold purchase on the island. There are upwards of six thousand Indian families settled in wig-wams or camps in the interior. They are serviceable as hunters of bears, fishermen, and guides; but as servants they are of no use whatever consequently the pay of a European labourer is high, from forty to fifty pounds per annum, being common wages. Rum is so cheap (not more than four shillings per gallon) that they generally drink themselves useless in two or three years. A person emi grating with about fifty pounds in his possession could establish himself upon a farm of two hundred acres, that with ease would return him, after the second year, two hundred pounds per annum. Surely this is a prospect more inviting than any the United States can offer to the man who either from a love of change, discontent, or ardour of speculation quits his native land.-A land I pronounce unequalled, with all its disadvantages of petty tyranny, merciless oppression, and overwhelming taxation, and which is, and I hope ever will be the envy of every other nation under the canopy of Heaven; but if my countrymen will emigrate-let them go to a country, where protected by British laws, they will gain American advantages-advantages not to be procured in the United States-that fountain of infidelity, that grave of moral feeling, and hot-bed of every vice that can degrade and destroy human nature. I speak not rashly; my observations are founded on unprejudiced truths-truths which cannot be controverted. I am well ac 115 quainted with the United States, and all the delusions it offers to emigrants.Liberty, particularly to the ignorant, assuredly bears a most flattering sound,-and in the United States 'tis merely sound. As a proof of this, every person exclaims in favour of the goddess, and is ready (if able) to knock any Englishman down who dares assert that she reigns upon a purer throne on his side of the Atlantic. The great moral distinction betwixt rational and licentious liberty is unknown to the turbulent American, and the latter is decidedly the liberty so much boasted of in that country, without one gentle approximation to the sober virtues of the former; hence arrogance, ostentation, and rudeness are to be seen on the "head and front of almost every citizen" you encounter. It is from individuals, and not Government, that an encouragement is held out to an emigrant settler, on Prince Edward's Island, (so named when the Duke of Kent was governor of Halifax; it being formerly called St. John's.) The land is divided in lots amongst a number of powerful noblemen, whose fathers or themselves served against America in the war of independence. None of them reside upon the island; but Lord Selkerk has of late years been a frequent visitor. The agents are men of accommodating dispositions, easily dealt with; and as they all keep stores, the purchaser of land can obtain on credit every article requisite to cultivate his farm, provided his character and industry appear commendable? Here at once is an inducement to an emigrant; he has no occasion to carry more into the country than will purchase his farm; every thing else will be furnished him, and the time of payment made agreeable to his circumstances. Will any man tell me he can meet with this in the United States, where his person would be seized and imprisoned for two or three shillings by the most merciful landlord. In Prince Edward's Island also seed will generally be given for nothing the first year, and the second, for a small return on the crop of the third or fourth; payment will not even then be required, unless the crops have been uncommonly prolific. With such prospects who would madly throw himself into the centre of a forest without a friend to assist him, four or five hundred miles distant from the sea? The soilof Prince Edward's is so rich that it requires very little manual labour; a marle-pit can be dug on every farm, 116 Advantages of Prince Edward's Island, and the sea casts up the finest manure : the marsh lands bring hay of excellent quality; no hay seed is ever sown; the sea washes it during the winter, and in summer the grass springs spontaneously. A fog is never seen over the island, and tempests, so common in the United States, are but casual visitors. The yellow fever never appears; and every breeze wafts health and perfume. Were I obliged to quit my native soil, there is no part of America where I would reside in preference, either as an independent man or a farmer. All the comforts of life can be had by moderate exertion, or moderate expense, and all life's elegancies are attainable also. Society stands upon an amiable level; the farmer, the gentleman, the merchant mingle in harmony -titles are no recommendation, and distinctions of rank have there no place. There are no taxes levied; indeed such a thing is impossible where there is no representation. The House of Assembly is returned in the same manner as our Members of Parliament for the different lots or counties; they have little to do except regulate the repairs of roads and port-duties. Justice is administered impartially by Judge Tremlett, a man whose talents would do honour to a more exalted station than the one he at present renders respectable by his many public and private virtues; appeals can be (but never yet have been made) from his decisions to England, but not to Canada, of which Government the island is perfectly independent. More than forty sail of ships are employed in the timber trade to Europe; some of them six hundred tons burthen, and all built upon the island. The lumber trade to the West Indies is great. Newfoundland is entirely supplied from this island with live cattle, fowls, corn, potatoes, and even garden-stuff. There are upwards of five hundred sail of schooners belonging to the place, from 180 to 20 tons. These vessels are noted for their ugliness, but they are also famed for their durability; every farmer has one of his own, built by himself; the plan and the execution being done by the eye without the help of any architect. No wonder then they are ugly, but who in such a place prefers not use to beauty? Canvass, rope and iron work come high, but timber being got at the door is a set off to that expense, and two cargoes of potatoes sent to Newfoundland leaves the farmer a clear vessel. This mode of ship-building much astonished me at [Sept. 1, first. Man, unassisted with mechanical ideas, can do much alone; following the impulse prompted by his wants, he can do that which will answer his purposes, though he cannot do it elegantly. The fictions of Robinson Crusoe and Philip Quarl are not so difficult to be realized as we at first imagine. Three-masted schoo ners, not common in Europe, are built here for the West Indies, and have a rapid sale; and above a thousand small craft are employed in the fisheries around the island. The means of defence are not great; a block-house and a small battery guard the entrance of the bay, upon which Charlotte Town, the seat of Government, stands, and there is a militia excellently trained; the soldiers are now withdrawn, and in time of war they never exceeded 100 men. The governor, a brother to Sir Sydney Smith, is a colonel in the army, and much beloved on the island. Charlotte Town is well laid out, the streets crossing each other at eight angles. The houses all of wood are painted, so as to resemble stone, and have a handsome appearance from the bay: the church is an elegant fabric; the Catholic chapel, the theatre, and the market - house, have their respective claims to notice, and the shops or stores have a gay look, being all large and well supplied with every thing for fancy or use. The theatre has a company of amateurs, at the head of whom is Major Holland, a veteran of the sock and buskin; the scenery, dresses and decorations have been had from Europe at considerable expense. A stranger on first landing can be at no loss for accommodation. There are many taverns, where at least most excellent eating can be had; but the apartments partake too much of the liberty and equality of the United States. A person entering from the sea into an extensive river, surrounded by lofty forests, is agreeably surprised as he clears the block-house point, to see an elegant little town sprinkled over a green descent, before which numerous ships display their colours, and give you at once an idea of comfort and prosperity. People from all parts of the island attend the market once a week, which looks much like an English country fair. Three rivers meet at Charlotte Town, down which the farmers' boats bring corn, cattle, potatoes, hops, vegetables, &c. and the Indian canoes, fish of every kind, wild geese, ducks and partridges. The market is well stocked, and the sale rapid; by two in the afternoon all are on wing again for the country; the farmer carrying with him rum, sugar, tea, and tobacco, and indeed every thing, as there are very few stores in the island but what are in the capital, and large villages. The dress of the country people, consists of a jacket and trowsers, made of thick, coarse, grey cloth, in every farm house. European cloth and apparel of every kind, is the dearest article on the island. In the latter end of the summer, or as it is called here "the fall," the farmer launches his largest boat, decked over, stores her well with rum, tobacco, and potatoes, for ballast as well as food, and sails for the fishery. Cod, mackarel and herrings are had in abundance; the herrings are larger than any mackarel in a London market. Thus provided with salt and loose staves, casks are soon set up and filled. Many of these vessels cure fish also for sale at Charlotte Town in winter. This does not occupy more than the three last weeks of summer, and on the farmer's return, about the 20th of December, he finds the frost set in, which puts a period to all out-door labour till next May. The snow, which is never very deep, freezes as it falls, and it never falls after January. The farmer has a well of water in his kitchen: his cellar is filled with potatoes; over-head is spread his corn to dry, in the store end of his house are his barrels of fish, rum, tobacco, cabbages, and all sorts of vegetables, the cold preserving them from putrefaction. A cow, when killed, hangs till it is consumed, without a grain of salt being thrown over it. The sides of his wooden habitation are well caulked, and it is warmer than a stone edifice. His wood, ready cut, is piled in front of the house, his fire in a constant blaze reaches half up the chimney-his wife spins and sings his children play round-as evening closes neighbours drop in the tobacco pouch is handed down from the shelf the pipes are set glowing-and over a hearty glass of rum punch the contented farmer thanks God who gave him resolution to become an emigrant on Prince Edward's Island. Winter is the season of holiday; the sledges are now put in motion, and wrapt in bear-skins, visiting commences with a horse and sledge. A man can travel at ease over the snow forty miles a day. Society is but distant, except in the villages. Bedegne is a small town on the western coast, standing upon a fine bay, and having a large share of trade, it is the place next in rank to the capital, 117 and has a church and school-house; the land near it is the best on the island, and the streams are admirably calculated for driving saw mills. I know farmers here who have five hundred clear acres in tillage, and are very wealthy. Mr. Campbell, colonel of the militia, and a magistrate, has built himself a mansion here, which for size and elegance is superior to any on the island; and I might add also for beauty of situation. The same gentleman has just completed a bridge over the river, facing his stores, 300 feet long and 25 broad; however the Indians have one larger in dimensions, and more elegantly built. Perhaps a more eligible spot than Bedegne does not offer to a new settler. The town is rising fast, and Colonel Campbell sells land even one third cheaper than some of the proprietors. Hereafter, in my hints to settlers, I will call attention particularly to this place, where I spent some happy days on my tour, and acquired considerable information from the surrounding farmers, who are all well informed men, and happyno rent no taxes to pay-not a painful thought to interrupt the pillow of his repose. The farmer who has brought out all his family, and centered all his future views in the island must be prosperous, and ought to be happy ;--every gale wafts him health-every stream yields him trout, salmon and eels-every bush affords him fruits of various kinds; and while the nut, cherry, currant, gooseberry, strawberry, apples, plums, and pears invite his plucking, his cows give him milk without any care to feed them. If he wants sugar, the maple tree has only to be bled to procure it in abundance; and if he desires game, the hare, the pheasant and the partridge, are domesticated at his very thresh Id. The independent farmer, attached to a rural life, approaching our ideas of the pastoral ages, will find all his wishes here. The farmer, who emigrates in search of peace and competence, with a full determination to realize the latter and enjoy the former, will find them in no part of America so easily attained as in Prince Edward's Island. ON MELANCHOLY. "The joy of grief.”—OSSIAN. That the mind of man should derive gratification from the excitement of those sensations which are in themselves painful, is a paradox too mysterious to be solved; but, that the seeds of delight are not unfrequently implanted by the hand of sorrow, is an observation more generally allowed than accounted for. Fontenelle says, "that though pleasure and pain are sentiments so entirely different in themselves, yet they do not differ materially in their cause; as it appears that the movement of pleasure pushed too far becomes pain, and the movement of pain a little moderated becomes pleasure." Difficulties certainly increase passions of every kind, and by rousing our attention, and exciting our active powers, produce an emotion which nourishes the prevailing affection. Nothing endears a friend so much as sorrow for his death: the pleasure of his society has not so powerful an influence; and whilst we look back with keen regret on scenes of happiness, dissipated by unforseen misfortune, and not by our own unworthiness, our woes are qualified by that mysterious and indescribable feeling which Ossian has so expressively denominated the "joy of grief." "Ask the faithful youth, Why the cold urn of her whom long he loved So often fills his arms, so often draws Of care and envy, sweet remembrance soothes, With virtue's kindest looks, his aching breast, And turns his tears to rapture!" Akenside. "Melancholy," observes Steele, "is the true and proper delight of men of knowledge and virtue. The pleasures of ordinary beings are in their passions, but the seat of this delight is in the understanding." There is much truth in this remark. The indulgence of melancholy tends frequently to strengthen and ameliorate the heart. It extinguishes the passions of envy and ill-will, corrects the pride of prosperity, and beats down that fierceness and insolence which is apt to get into the minds of the daring and fortunate. Few individuals are so gross and uncultivated, as to be incapable, at certain moments, and amid certain combinations of ideas, of feeling that sublime influence on the spirits-that soft and tender abstraction from the cares and vexations of the world, which steals upon the soul, "And fits it to hold converse with the Gods." Such a frame of mind raises and en [Sept. 1, courages that sweet and lofty enthusiasm which warms the imagination at the sight of the glorious and stupendous works of our Creator; it leads us To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, Where things that own not man's dominion," dwell, And mortal feet have ne'er, or rarely been, To climb the trackless mountain all unseen With the wild flock that never needs a fold; Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean ; Converse with nature's God, and see his Byron. stores unrolled. to hold There are two kinds of melancholy, which may be thus distinguished:-First, that of the swain-of the mind which contemplates nature but in the grove or the cottage; secondly, that of the scholar and the philosopher; of the intellect which has ranged through the mazes of sions upon vanity and happiness, from seience, and which has formed its deciextensive knowledge and experience. frequent intercourse with man, and upon The melancholy of the swain is finely depicted in the following beautiful song from Beaumont and Fletcher's "Nice Valour, or the Passionate Madman .” Hence all you vain delights, Wherein you spend your folly; O sweetest Melancholy! Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely Melancholy! Of this song the construction is par ticularly to be admired. It is divided into three parts. The first part displays moral melancholy: the second the person or figure: and the third the circumstances which create the feeling. Contemplative melancholy-that of the scholar and the philosopher, has been "With a sad leaden downward cast." Milton. "With leaden eye that loves the ground." Gray. 1818.] Pleasures of Melancholy. finely personified by Milton in the fol- Come pensive nun, devout and pure, Il Penseroso. There appears to be something em- -There is a mood, 119 I sing not to the vacant or the young, Few know that elegance of soul refined, Of tasteless splendor and magnificence Warton's Pleasures of Melancholy. J. Warton also invokes melancholy in his ode to Fancy Goddess of the tearful eye, Who lov'st with folded arms to sigh. Is there who ne'er those mystic transports felt, Of solitude and Melancholy born, He needs not woo the muse, he is her scorn. And again in the same poem-- Contemplative melancholy is again Ah! what is mirth but turbulence unholy, alluded to in Comus "Musing Melancholy most affects The pensive secresy of desert cells, Far from the cheerful haunts of men and herds." Some lines, prefixed to Burton's "Anatomie of Melancholy," seem also to have afforded Milton many hints for his Il Penseroso When I go musing all alone, Burton's Prefatory Verses. Melancholy has elicited the praises also of many of our more modern authors; When with the charm compared of heavenly Melancholy! Ibid. Cease to blame my Melancholy, Tho' with sighs and folded arms and as juxtaposition forms an elegant Yet these mournful thoughts possessing, entertainment to the lovers of poetry, I shall conclude this article by the adduction of such passages from our later poets, as may appear to illustrate my observations.* Such delights I find in grief, Sir J. Moore. are from memory, my readers will probably As the greater part of these quotations excuse any trifling inaccuracy. |
