gil, whose admiration was greatest, thought so well of bees that he set himself about devising a process, by which, in the event of the destruction of the species, he might reproduce them, and has accordingly left a recipe for making them. The ant, however, has found no such admirers. Instead of giving it protection, most persons delight in killing it. If, at any time, it raises its pretensions, it is flattered with no other notice than, perhaps, to be trod on, or have its habitation knocked about its ears. This is the only reward it receives from ungrateful man for the useful lessons it sets him by its temperance, frugality, and industry. It is by constant exertion, rather than by any remarkable individual effort, that man accomplishes the greatest and most stupendous works. Not he who steps quickest or is the strongest amasses greatest wealth, but he who is most temperate and industrious. By proper industry man may do almost any thing. The Germans have a saying, finely illustrating our individual resources, which is, "speak the commanding word I will and the work is done." Chatterton once said of men of letters, if they would abstain from eating too much, the Almighty had given them arms long enough to reach any thing. The old proverb, "constant dropping will wear away a stone" holds true with almost every engagement in life. B. POETRY, MY OWN FIRE-SIDE. My own fire-side! Those simple words, A gentle form is near me now; A small white hand is clasped in mine; I gaze upon her placid brow, And ask what joys can equal thine! In sleep his mother's eyes doth hide ;- What care I for the sullen roar Of winds without, that ravage earth; it doth but bid me prize the more, The shelter of thy hallowed hearth; Then let the churlish tempest chide, Of this world's passion, strife, and care, Thy precincts are a charmed ring, Where no harsh feeling dares intrude; To thee-my own Fire-side! Shrine of my household deities! Fair scene of home's unsullied joys! When fortune frowns, or care annoys ; The smile whose truth hath oft been tried; Oh, may the yearnings, fond and sweet, Let joy or grief my fate betide ; Be still an Eden bright to me My own-my own FIRE-SIDE? MARRIAGES. Brookfield-Col. Joseph Robinson and Miss Caroline Cutler Banister. Paxton-Mr. Silas Bigelow and Miss Adeline Baxter. Oxford-Mr. John Stone and Miss Pamelia Stone. Dea. Nathan Dr. Moses N. Phelps-75. James Thompson-83. Sterling-Ebenezer Fitch-76. Westminster-Joseph Estabrook-49. John Estabrook-69. Charlton--Gershom Harwood-69. Holden-Miss Mary Bennet--22. Gardner-Widow Hannah Conant-96. Petersham-Mrs. Sally Wilson-42. Oxford-Stephen Webster-32. Mrs. Caty Vassal-79. New Braintree-Nathan Sargent--80. Athol-Dea. Aaron Oliver-75. Barre-Nathaniel Phillips--90. Northbridge-Widow Patience Goldthwait-89. Thermometrical Register. Days.Sun rise. Noon. Sun set. Wind, Weather, &c. S. W.-S.-E.-cloudy, rainy. N. W.-N. W.-N. W.-fair. N. W.-N. W.-N. W.-cloudy, fair. S. W.-W.-W.-snowy, fair, cloudy. W.-S. W.-W.-fair. W.-S. W.-W.-cloudy, fair. N. W.-N. W.-N. W.-fair. N. W.-W.-W.-fair. W.-N. W.-S. W.-fair, cloudy. W.-W.-N. W.-fair, cloudy. N. W.-N. W.-N, W.-fair. MISCELLANY. ORIGINAL. JOURNEY FROM CANADA. No. 1. READER, if you wish to hear what there is interesting in a "Tour to Canada," read Silliman, if you wish to know what there is in Canada, read Bouchette, but if you wish to know what we saw on our way back from there, read this. This is all we propose, and all you can expect. We have not yet learned to travel in our closets, nor should we feel justified to print as our own what was once another's, although we may have fairly purchased it of our bookseller. In the first place, you must suppose us within his Majesty's dominion, whither we had been carried amidst the crowd of visitors, who during the summer of '25 filled the "hotels" and "mansion houses," and steam boats of Montreal, Quebec, and the St. Lawrence. In the next place, suppose us to have parted with a grave companion, and ourselves and our baggage on board the beautiful little steam boat Le Canadian, getting under way on the morning of the 3d of August and if after this you will follow us on our route homeward, we will engage to hurry you over the scenes we witnessed as fast as we were carried by them in stages and steam boats, and that the detail of them shall not, if possible, be more dreary and tedious than much of that route proved to be in the hot and dusty time of year we had chosen for our return. We started from the city of Montreal at nine o'clock in the morning, for La Prairie, which is nine miles distant, in a southwestwardly direction, upon the south shore of the St. Lawrence, and is pretty distinctly visible from the former place. The current of the river is so rapid much of the distance between these places, that the boat made but slow progress, and we had ample time to look around us to see who were our companions, and also to note the scenes we passed. Our boat was crowded with a most motley cargo of humanity: English and Irish; Canadians and Yankees; Yankees from the north and Yankees from the south; Beauty and deformity; men and women; horses and wagons; charettes, bandboxes and trunks, were huddled together on the deck of the little boat, and every thing that had a tongue was using it as if these nine miles were the last of their pilgrimage. Behind us, lay the city with its mountain in the back ground, and there, gradually dimin ishing in size and distinctness, were seen steeples and domes of churches, the grey walls of the nunneries, the masts and dark hulls of the vessels at the quay; and around the city, amidst a country teeming with the richest harvests, the fine seats of private gentlemen were scattered, giving life and beauty to the scene. Farther down, in the midst of the majestic St. Lawrence, the eye rested on the island of St. Helena, with its neat white fortifications, and the flag of King George floating above them. On our right, was a rich and fertile island, said to have been, till recently, the residence of the "grey nuns." All these, and a thousand other interesting features in the scenery, we had already often contemplated with interest, and could now only give them a farewell glance. We admired the skill of our pilot in conducting us safely through a most intricate channel, while destruction in all the forms of rocks and eddies and rapids threatened us in our course. So rapid was the current that it was noon before we reached La Prairie. We had preferred this route to the one sometimes taken, as we had less distance to travel by land, which at any time of year, in this country, is to be avoided as much as possible. There are two routes travelled from Montreal to St. John's, one being through La Prairie and the other directly crossing the river from Montreal to Longuiel, and from thence across the country through the town of Chambly on the Sorelle river. I cannot answer for the character of the latter, but that of the former is wretched enough. La Prairie at a distance has rath❤ er a pretty appearance. The steeples of its churches being covered with tin, glitter in the sun, and the town, being stretched along the river, seems to be of considerable magnitude, but when we came into it, its importance dwindled extremely. It is flat and dir ty, and the houses looked old and without taste or beauty. We were detained an hour or more for a stage to take us on, and though at last stowed ten inside in a hot dusty day, we were glad to get on even in that way, though we found ourselves dragged by jaded horses over a flat, clayey, parched up country, without a single interesting prospect, (if we except the race ground, which for ought we knew might sometimes be an interesting spot,) till we came to the river Sorelle, three miles below St. Johns. On the banks of this river we found two or three good farms and comfortable looking houses. The distance from La Prairie to St. Johns is 18 miles, and the country is as dull and uninteresting as can be imagined. The population is very spare, and those who do exist there must have a hard struggle to continue existence. We were informed at |