CONTENTMENT. 
We don’t often quobe poetry, but cannot refrain from 
giving a few lines which we take out of an old paper 
being struck with it as somewhat appropriate to the 
Coffee Districts, as shewing forth the first and feeling 
sentiments of some young immigrant “thirty years 
ago—;” 
Gude preserve us; sic a country ! 
Naething here but sticks and trees, 
Swarms of bugs_ and vile mosquitoes, 
Every kind of biting fieas. 
Oh ! that I were back to Britain ! 
Friends nor foes would tempt me more 
E’er again to set a foot on 
This uncultivated shor ■. 
Yes, rather would I be contend with 
Meaner things, and sober cheer. 
Wi’ friends at home, than spend a life-time 
In this wilderness, oot here. 
We have some recollection of the big Ceylon officials, 
stating in some despatch relative to some discussion 
aiient the railway question, before the Colombo and 
Kandy line was determined on, that coffee was not a 
permanent industry, and what was the use of spending 
large sums of money on any work, such as a railway, 
when, before many years were past, it would probaby 
lapse into a howling wilderness, ’ and what use would 
a line of railway be through and to a howling wil- 
derness ? But we see no signs of this yet, quite the 
contrary* for the whole history and progress of the 
planting enterprise has steadily, slowly and surely 
(with a few occasional checks from which it always 
recovered with a rebound) been to emerge from a 
“howling wilderness, ’’making sure progress and advance, 
in spite of the howls of all those who lived in a 
wilderness of wceds^ which had destroyed their coffee. 
Well might they howl, for their own estates had lapsed 
into a ‘ howling wilderness, ’ beyond all possibility of 
redemption. But that was not the fault of coffee. 
It was the fault of its master, ur cultivation, 
or it may be a bad selection in a bad district. 
But did one ever know a planter who had not 
something to “howl” over? Ever know a contented 
planter ? Contentment is the true “philosophers’ stone.” 
Very likely, for nobody has ever found the one or 
the other. As life advances, and you get contented 
with one subject of discontent, before very long 
another source of trouble will break out. Have 
you found it so? Such has been the experience of 
P. D. Millie. 
