Money was a thing unknown;

No lawgiver and no pelf,

Each a law was to himself.

They had neither high nor low,

Rich nor poor; they did not know
Such distinctions ere could be,
Such was their simplicity.

Yea, they were a happy band,
Cultivating their own land;

Herds and flocks did fast increase,
And they ate their bread in peace.
Now my inference is plain,
What has been might be again.
Just compare their simple ways
With the doings in our days.
Every man is for himself,
Hunting after power and pelf;
Not a moment can he rest—
Grasping like a thing possessed;
Running, racing, here and there,
Up and down and everywhere,
Hunting for the root of evil,
Restless as the very devil—
He'll do aught to gain his end,

Kiss a foe or stab a friend;

He'll be either rude or civil,

Play the saint, or play the Devil.
Neither scrupulous nor nice,

He follows skinflint's last advice;
It is short, and soon repeated,

Simply "cheat or ye'll be cheated;

A' moral creeds are strings o' bleathers, The world's a goose, pluck ye her feathers; Nae matter how ye rax and draw,

If ye aye keep within the law;

And ye may lie, and dodge and wheel,
A's fair as lang's ye dinna steal ;

And be ye

either saint or sinner,

A's right as long as ye're the winner :
But get cash if ye can come at it,
By fair means, but be sure and get it."

"Now, my friends, 'tis clear as day,

If we choose the proper way:
Like the tree we've now laid low,
We might conquer vice and woe;

I can see no reason why
We might not unite and try,
Like those simple men of old,
To redeem the world from gold;

Each for all, and all for each,
Is the doctrine that I preach;
Mind the fable of the wands,
'Tis a fact that always stands;
Singly, we are poor and weak,
But united, who can break."

CHAPTER V.

THE LOG CABIN.

The little log cabin is far in the woods,

And the foot of the wayfarer seldom comes there; Around it are stretching the great solitudes,

Where the deer love to roam, and the wolf makes

his lair,

And the red man crawls on the surly bear,
And the dead tree falls with a heavy crash,
And the jagged hemlock and pine are there,
And the dismal swamp and the dreary ash,
And the eagle sits watching the moment to dash.

And the roving son of the wilderness,

While tracking the steps of the gentle deer,

The little log cabin will seldom miss,

For the ringing sound of the axe he'll hear,

And he comes to taste of its welcome cheer;

And the children who once would gaze in affright,

When they see his shaggy wolf dog appear,

Will run out to meet him with wild delight,

And the heart of the savage is tamed at the sight.

The little log cabin is all alone,

Its windows are rude, and its walls are bare,
And the wind without has a weary moan;
Yet peace like an angel is nestling there,
And Hope with her rapt uplifted air,

Behold, in the distance the eglantine,

And the corn with its silver tassel where

The hemlock is anchored beside the tall pine,

And the creeping weed hangs with its long fringing vine.

And close by the cabin tho' hid in the wood,
Ontario lies like a mirror of blue,

Where the children hunt the wild duck's brood,
And scare the tall crane and the lonely mew;
And the eldest has fashioned a light canoe,
And with noisome glee they paddle along,
Or dash for the cliff where the eagle flew,
Or sing in their gladness the fisherman's song,
Till they waken the echoes the greenwoods among.