'Tis true their farm was small, yet day by day They plenty found to occupy their time; That patch of ground the labor would repay.

As for good crops, 'twas in condition prime: Such they all hoped to raise in that fine fruitful clime.

LXVI.

_Six_ acres still lay right behind the _two_; Doubtless it had an Indian clearance been.

This needs not much to fit it for the plow, So they of brush and rubbish rid it clean, And broke it up. Then a rail fence was seen Most speedily to compa.s.s it around.

Soon spring wheat sown was looking brightly green, While in the garden useful plants were found, And these good prospects made the family's joys abound.

LXVII.

Their live stock was not large, yet they possessed Two milking cows, and yoke of oxen strong, Some turkeys, hogs, and poultry of the best.

These all were bought ere they had been there long.

For finest fish they could not well go wrong; The lake supplied all that they wished to get.

In small canoe they often sailed along The side of lovely isles and cast their net, Or fished with line till glorious Sol had nearly set.

LXVIII.

Sometimes a deer would venture near enough To run the risk of catching lumps of lead, And this well dressed was no unsavory stuff With which to help a meal of wheaten bread.

Of bears and wolves they were at first in dread, But soon found out there was no cause for fear; For if such came and mortal showed his head, They soon ran off with a true coward's leer, Which made it seem surprising they should come so near.

LXIX.

To clear against the Fall, the sons marked out Ten acres of the woods well filled with trees.

Such work required strong arms and courage stout, And those young men could rightly boast of these.

They now with willing hands their axes seize And push the work from early morn till night.

Loud sound the strokes, till each brave woodman sees The trees begin to tremble in their sight, And soon with thundering sound upon the ground alight.

LXX.

The chopper's life is not a life of ease-- And yet to those who understand it well There's much about it that doth tend to please Their warm, strong minds, as they such monsters fell.

I have oft stood as if bound by a spell, When some huge giant swayed awhile in air, And then with crash tremendous shook the dell, While cows from fright would scamper here and there, But soon return to browse its top for lack of fare.

LXXI.

While those in woods were busily employed Swinging their axes in true workman style, Their sisters neatly dressed as much enjoyed The garden work, quite cheered by Nature's smile.

Lightening their labor with sweet songs the while, They trained the different plants with skillful hands; A pleasing task well fitted to beguile Such modest, gentle girls, who in Love's bands Were bound together, thus obeying G.o.d's commands.

LXXII.

Their gardener skill was not alone confined To what was wanted for their bodily needs.

By nature taught, each had a tasteful mind, And this was shown by planting flower seeds.

These by some folks are looked upon as weeds, And therefore useless--not e'en worth a straw!

From such coa.r.s.e souls I do not look for deeds Which, in sweet aspect, do our nature show; I envy not their taste nor all they chance to know.

LXXIII.

I love to look on flowers. They to my soul Sincerest pleasure and sweet peace still bring; Their varied charms can wondrously control My troubled spirit--smarting from the sting Of cold neglect and sad, crushed hopes, whence spring Many sore trials to the sons of men.

I, midst my flowers, can feel myself a king, Nor envy much the rich and mighty then, With all their pomp and pride, or gorgeous trappings vain.

LXXIV.

And those fair damsels always loved to view Sweet tulips, pinks, and daisies' charms unfold, The peony's blush, the lovely rose's hue, And woodbine's blossoms--lilies like pure gold.

All these, and more, were pleasant to behold, And well repaid them for their frequent toil.

Their plants throve well in that rich, deep, black mold, And though the work did their nice fingers soil, It kept them ever free from this poor world's turmoil.

LXXV.

The settlers round beheld with much surprise The neat-kept garden in such beauty seen, And oft they looked with rather longing eyes Upon the flowers bedecked in glorious sheen.

Sometimes a youth upon the fence would lean And Watch with due respect the sisters fair; Then anxious ask what this and that could mean, Or names of plants which seemed to him so rare.

Doubtless it was to see the maidens he came there.

LXXVI.

Of this I could not speak with certainty; But mutual blushes, looks significant, Are very apt to tell strange tales to me.

I once was young, so you will therefore grant I should know something of what youths still want When they to such sweet girls quite bashful come, And utter words as if their stock was scant.

Well, 'tis but natural, and I would be mum; Of bliss thus sought and gained 'twere hard to tell the sum.

LXXVII.

Often the parents, in their Master's spirit, Would link-armed take a pleasant walk at eve To visit neighbors, and thus seek to merit That just reward which faithful Saints receive From Jesus Christ, who never will deceive Those working well for him. They therefore went Gladly each burdened conscience to relieve, And those a.s.sist who were by sickness spent, Or tell to all, the message which their G.o.d had sent.

LXXVIII.

On one of these occasions they became Acquainted with a youth to bed confined.

From early childhood he was always lame, And for a year or two had been quite blind.

His manners were most gentle, and his mind With human knowledge seemed to be well stored.

Now these dear people made enquiry kind, If he had in affliction sought the Lord, Or ever gained true comfort from his Sacred Word.

LXXIX.

To them at first he no reply would give, Yet seemed absorbed in thought, and heaved a sigh.

At last he said, "I always aimed to live So that I need not fear when brought to die.

I feel at present that my end is nigh And should not care ev'n now, if I were dead.

Upon my blameless life I can rely, Nor look for harm to fall on guiltless head.

A purer life than mine no mortal ever led."

Lx.x.x.

"My dear young friend," the Pastor sweetly said, "Did your own conscience never whisper you That hope like this to ruin always led?

If not, let me now tell you it is true!

For none may hope the face of G.o.d to view In peace unless their sins are washed away By Jesus' blood. Our dearest Savior flew On wings of Mercy man's worst foes to slay, And open wide the gates, to everlasting day!"

Lx.x.xI.

He asked him then if he might read aloud A portion of G.o.d's Word, and offer prayer.

The youth consented, feeling much less proud Than when these Christians first had entered there.

GOODWORTH three chapters read with greatest care, Three which at length dwell on the sinner's state, And then by plainest speech made him aware How he might best escape a sin-cursed fate, Be reconciled to G.o.d, and coming Glory wait.

[Footnote: The 3d, 4th, and 5th chapters of Romans]