ancestors, the ancient Britons (we are all 

 true Britons of course), were clothed with 

 skins of beasts, and dwelt in huts, which 

 they erected in the " forests and marshes 

 with which the country was covered." "And 

 marshes " — mark that ! we quote the words 

 of an eminent historian. England was a 

 marshy country in " those days ; " and that 

 is not surprising, if England's climate was 

 then anything akin to what it is in our days. 

 What precious wild ducks those skin- 

 covered ancestors of ours must have been, 

 with their nests in the bullrushes — strong on 

 the wing, too; for, adds our historical re- 

 membrancer, "they shifted easily their habi- 

 tation, when actuated either by the hopes of 

 plunder or the fear of an enemy." He has 

 another observation upon them, but it is al- 

 most superfluous after the preceding re- 

 citals ; it is, that " as they were ignorant of 

 all the refinements of life, their wants and 

 their possessions were equally scanty and 

 limited." 



Well, the marshes have been drained 

 pretty tolerably, but there is water enough 

 left upon the surface, we are happy to say, 

 to preserve a connection between the descrip- 

 tion of ancient geographers and the phe- 

 nomena of modern times. Our winter still 

 comes— 



" Sullen and sad, with all his rising train — 

 Vapors, and clouds, and storms." 



Fogs visit us in November. The hail re- 

 bounds from our plate glass in April, and 

 sometimes in June and July ; and as to rain 

 — simple rain — we have at all times enough 

 of it — enough, at least, to keep the umbrella 

 trade from perishing. 



_ Some people talk of the rigors of a Cana- 

 dian winter ; but though different from, we 

 question if they are greater than, those of 

 our sea-girt isle. In the country of the St. 

 Lawrence, it is true, the cold is greater, and 

 at this season, nature assumes her universal 

 snowy mantle; but what then? We are 

 assured that the " sky is quite cloudless, the 

 air bracing, and, from the absence of wind, 

 in spite of the low temperature, the cold is 

 not felt to be disagreeable." Canada is at 

 least as inviting a country to a wandering 

 Englishman, as England must have appeared 

 to an inhabitant of the Eternal City in the 

 days of Julius Caesar. We cannot conceive 

 of anything more terrible than old Albion 

 must have seemed to a cargo of Italian emi- 

 grants, had some speculative Wakefield of 

 that day been able to get up a company, and 

 induce a colonial settlement of society "in 

 its frame " from the banks of the Tiber to 

 let us say, the banks of the Mersey, and that 

 they had embarked on the Lancashire side 

 at one of our winter seasons. Would not 



" Shadows vast — 

 Deep tinged and damp — and congregated clouds, 

 And all the vapory turbulence of heaven," 



in which we English are involved for months 

 together, have dismayed them ? Houseless 

 wretches, without coal, without gas, amid 

 fens and morasses, and darkness almost Cim- 

 merian, upon what an inhospitable, gloomy 

 coast, would they not have deemed them- 

 selves cast ? Would they have stayed to 

 hear some soothsayer's predictions of great 

 things hereafter to arise ; would they have 

 had an ear or stomach for such improbable 

 imaginings, while they looked from their 

 tents upon one uninterrupted and sunless 

 envelopment of mist — heard the continual 

 howl of storm, or surveyed the almost hope- 

 less sail to which the plausible, but unreal 

 descriptions of a projector had invited 

 them ? 



Now see what wonders persevering indus- 

 try has accomplished ! It is not in human 

 power, indeed, to cause every wilderness 

 and howling waste to blossom as the rose ; 

 but where certain capabilities exist, we may 

 say with our writing-master's school piece, 

 that " labor overcometh all things." It is 

 true that our sun is not, like the sun of Italy, 

 over head ; neither do we go abroad to bask 

 in his rays, or to enjoy his light ; nor is 

 there anything in his appearance that should 

 tempt us to worship him, as the Persians do 

 the great luminary above. No : our sun is 

 beneath the earth's surface, and we dig him 

 up — the most manageable of constellations 

 — just as we want him. With this invalua- 

 ble body, we counteract all the churlishness 

 of nature in other respects, and can do al- 

 most anything. With this we smile at frosts 

 and imbrious falls, darkness and tempest, 

 and are unenvious of those who are warmed 

 without labor, and who, stretched under the 

 open canopy of heaven, are content with 

 existence, as in itself enjoyment. With this 

 we greet even winter — " ruler of the inverted 

 year " — and crown him 



" King of intimate delights, 

 Fireside enjoyments, home -born happiness, 

 And all the comforts that the lowly roof 

 Of undisturbed retirement, and the hours 

 Of long uninterrupted evening, know." 



In short, it is here that nature has compen- 

 sated us for what she has otherwise denied, 

 and, upon the whole, we have reason to be 

 grateful for her favors. It is no forced or 

 extravagant hypothesis to say that English- 

 men owe a great deal to their outwardly un- 

 genial clime. It supplies a perpetual spur 

 to their exertions, and gives vitality to their 

 industry ; it creates in them that desire for 

 comforts which forms so fixed a trait in the 

 national character. Nor is this stimulus in 

 vain ; a bountiful Providence has taken care 



