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and brothers will surely follow. Let it not be said of our lovely land* 
that therein 
“ Many a Tyre our steps may find, 
But no Arcadia now,” 
while we possess the elements of so much beauty at our very feet. 
Let us draw a picture, by no means an ideal one, of a rural home as 
we too often behold it; and then form a contrasted picture of the same 
home transformed by the hand of a simple taste, in gratifying which the 
material is at hand without money or price. 
It is a log-house, and a stick-chimney; upon one side, in full view of the 
cabin's one door and window, is a log barn, and the cows and pigs make 
a common bed in front of the house *old boxes, barrels, refuse wood, 
chips, &c., add confusion to the scene; no tree has been spared, though 
numerous blackened stumps too truly indicate where once they waved in 
leafy pride. A few straggling stalks of mustard, possibly a tall sun¬ 
flower, some thistles— introduced from Canada—and burdocks, flourish 
in the yard. Perhaps, the good wife has planted in a plowed patch near 
h Y> a few onions and cabbages; all, indeed, wears a most comfortless and 
uninviting aspect,—while perhaps the owner of this very establishment 
is getting into his barn, or stacking in his field, hundreds of bushels of 
wheat, and other crops in liberal abundance; while his home indicates 
poverty the most abject, and a mode of life for which he would have 
blushed, before he “moved West,” where people “do as they can;” that 
most miserable excuse for the careless and idle. 
But change the scene—tear down the old barn—remove by a few hours 
labor the rubbish so long collecting; construct a neat fence, even if it be 
of tamarack poles. A few hours will collect from the woods several 
varieties of the honey-suckle, climbing the first year over the trellised door¬ 
way—its beautiful foliage in summer, and its autumnal berries, always 
rendering it attractive. A wild grape-vine hides the window and clam¬ 
bers here and there, concealing the rough logs with its profusion of green 
foliage—and some one appreciative of the beauties of “ autumnal leaves” 
has carefully nurtured the American ivy, (Virginia creeper,) one of the 
most beautiful objects of our woods in the time of “ falling leaves.” 
From our fields and woods transplant—the splendid cardinal flower 
(lobelia cardinalis)—several varieties of the wild phlox—the hair-bell— 
