From a Year in Canada, and other Poems. By Ann Cuthbert Knight.

[There are many pleasing stanzas in this poem; we select those which describe a band of Indians---more civilized however, than some at the extremities of the province--partly because it affords a subject new to poetical powers; and partly because we desire to bring our readers acquainted with the sentiments of a lady on occasion of meeting them. She has naturally paid the greatest attention to her own sex.]

TARK! 'tis their shout---and lo, in wild

H

costume

The roving Indians' tawny forms appear! Waves thro' their sable locks the gaudy plume Painted and arm'd---perchance the foe to dare.

And see-along the dusty road they pass--Behind the warrior band a female train! Daughters of Europe! though uncouth their guise,

Though they must bear the load, and till the plain,

Yet look not,--gaze not here with undeserved disdain.

What though no zone in graceful folds confine The short dark vest that hides her bosom's swell,

Yet may that form a gentle heart enshrine,
Where spotless faith and mild affection dwell;
Though born to toil beneath an ardent sky,
No sweet vermillion blush her cheek adorn,
Yet feeling lightens in the Squaw's dark eye;
Haply her bosom nobly knows to spurn
Your pity, should it blend th' ungen'rous
glance of scorn.

Awhile beneath an elm their steps they staid,
Then two approaching claim'd a nearer view,
Each in her hand her spell-wove wares dis-
play'd,*
The box and basket dyed of various bue;

Band-boxes and baskets, composed of bark or wood split very thin, dyed, and neatly, though slightly wove; mocasins, or shoes formed of deer skins; and the ceinture or sash, generally worn over the great coat in winter, are the principal manufactures of the Squaws. I have been told, that in many places of the United States, and even of the British provinces, Canada excepted, an Indian will he in the open air, and suffer cold or hunger rather than ask admission into a house. This seems to argue that he has, at one period or another, been rudely repulsed. It is not so in Canada; at least, in the vicinity of Montreal, an Indian will enter a country house, and state his wants, not with the air of a mendicant, but in a manner which seems to proceed from the conscious ness, that, were his host in the same circumstances to make a like request to him, it would be answered by every mark of kindness in his power. Nor, from aught I observed, do they seem to be repulsed, at least by the French

[438

The one---her blanket thrown across her arm, Her hat's dark band a blushing wild rose stay'd,

Gay beam'd her glance with youth's attractive

charm,

Gay on her lip the smile of candour play'd ; Sedate the other's mien beneath a beaver's shade;

Her form, yet well beneath its folds were

An olive blanket almost hid from view

seen,

The scarlet leggins edged with darker bluc,
The tinsel fringe and pliant mocasin.
Back o'er her shoulders from her forehead
bung

taste;

What seem'd a basket, deck'd with gaudy
Gently her hand the leathern band unswung,
And gently on the floor the burden placed,"
Shaded with flowing silk---with azure ribbon
graced.

Softly aside the crimson veil she lays,
Removes the muslin, deck'd with tinsel toy,
Still, still unconscious of a stranger's gaze,
He smiles through guiltless dreams, her slum-
bering boy!

Not on the cradle's downy bed composed,
Nor softly pillow'd on his mother's breast!
By thongs suspended, and with hoops inclosed,
Prison'd his little limbs,---his moveless waist
Close to th' unpliant board with circling fillets
braced!

[The progress of the seasons is followed by this lady, with evident pleasure. Her description of Winter, may remind those acquainted with Carada, of some particulars; but many others are lost, probably from the

Canadians. I do not believe they come, except when really in want of something, which happens but seldom. The Squaws generally offer to pay for whatever they ask; I never remarked an instance of a man's doing so. The following circumstance is true; perhaps the reader may find it interesting.

An Indian who had been in the habit of calling occasionally at a country house, stopped there on a hot summer day to rest a little, and get a draught of water. The house had changed its inhabitants, and he was ordered to get out immediately. Hurt at this treatment, the more as contrasting it with his former reception, his passion rose, but it was vented only in expressions of detestation and contempt, and he turned from the inhospitable door, which there is no reason to suppose he would again approach. I sighed at the recital. I have often traced the picture of the indignant Indian and regret that a groundless fear, or a groundless prejudice, (for I should be unwilling to impute it entirely to pride or illnature,) should have dictated so harsh an answer to so simple a request. Whatever degree of ferocity, even of treachery, may be traced in the character of some of the Indian tribes, no late instance of either can, I believe, be produced in the conduct of those who reside in Canada towards its inhabitants. The Canadian peasantry, without scruple, address them as brothers; it is the title by which they themselves often address Europeans, and there seems something stern and even illiberal in that disposition which turas disgusted from it.

play,

Yet ere we leave this valley dear,
Those hills owreclad wi' heather,
Sen' roun' the usquebaugh sae clear
We'll bae a horn thegither;
An' listen lads to what I gie,
Ye'll pledge me round sincerely---
To him that's come to set us free,
Our rightful ruler, Charlie.
O! better lo'ed he canna be,

Our mountain garb, sae gracefully,
Yet whan we see him wearin,
It's ay the mair endearin'.
Though a' that now adorns his brow
Ere lang we'll see, o' kingdoms three,
Be but a simple bonnet,
The royal crown upon it.

But ev'n should Fortune turn her heel
Upon the righteous cause, boys,
We'll shaw the warl we're firm an' leal,
we'll fecht while we hae breath to draw,
An' never will prove fause, boys:
An' ane an' a' we'll stan' or fa'
For him we lo'e sae dearly,
Alang wi' royal Charlie.

From the Monthly Magazine.

SONG TO MY FRIEND. GREATLY love the calm retreat,

[440

R. L.

toils repay.

Ere long, a nobler Muse, on loftier wing, May seek those shades, and every charm unfold,

That spreads its beauties in the fleeting Spring,
Or Summer's blush, or Autumn's locks of gold;
O'er the broad lakes in daring pinion sweep,
Or with bold step the forest path explore,
Where to Niagara's resounding steep
Rolls the proud stream,and down with thund'.
ring roar,

Flings his white dashing waves, and shakes the trembling shore."

Not such the minstrel's skill, nor such the lay, No classic grace adorns these simple strains; 'Twas but the passing pilgrim of a day, Who view'd with ling'ring glance yon verdant plains,

Who haply found, ev'n in that foreign clime, Some fleeting hours, that live in Mem'ry's view,

"In colours mellow'd, not impair'd by time," Some artless friend that wept to bid adieu, Who, with unpractised hand, the changeful picture drew.

I

The Muse can tread with hallow'd feet, And pour her tender breathings there. I love to stroll the groves an, And listen to the feather'd throng; To pierce the gently winding dale, Where echo swells in ev'ry gale. I love to climb the mountain's brow Impending o'er the deeps below; To watch the streamlet as it flows, Where the uncultur'd strawb'rry grows. And, at first glimpse of purple dawn, love to seek the fragrant lawn; Or with the moon a vigil keep, Whose pale beams quiver on the deep. But craggy heights, nor verdant fields, With all the gifts kind Nature yields, Scarce half their varied charms display, Unblest by Friendship's cheering ray. For 'tis participation gives Life to every joy that lives; And in the swelling breast of grief Pours the mild balsain of relief. Come then, lov'd fav'rite of my beart, This wreath of happiness impart; Let these delights, which please awhile, Be cherish'd by Affection's smile. Then shady wood, nor fertile green, Shall spread their blooming sweets unseen. When at the airy minstrel's lay We join to welcome op'ning day; Or, weary, court grey ev'ning's breeze, Whose spirit whispers through the trees. In softest accent seems to bear This message to the list'ning ear:--Think not, that on terrestrial ground Pure, amaranthine bliss is found; Transplanted is fair Eden's prize; Together seek 'it in the skies.