MY father went up in summer with a retinue of Indians and disbanded soldiers, &c. headed by a land surveyor. In that country, men of this description formed an important and distinct profession. They were provided with an apparatus of measuring-chains, tents, and provision. It was, upon the whole, an expensive expedition; but this was the less to be regretted, as the object proved fully adequate. Never was a location more fertile or more valuable, nor the possessor of an estate more elated with his acquisition. A beautiful stream passed through the midst of the property; beyond its limits, on one side, rose a lofty eminence, covered with tall cedar, which being included in no patent, would be a common good, and offered an inexhaustible supply of timber and firing, after the lands should be entirely cleared. This sylvan scene appeared, even in its wild state, to possess singular advantages; it was dry lying land, without the least particle of swamp; great part of it was covered with chesnuts, the sure indication of good wheat land, and the rest with white oak, the never-failing forerunner of good Indian corn and pasture. The ground, at the time of the survey, was in a great measure covered with strawberries, the sure sign of fertility; and better and better still, there was, on a considerable stream which watered this region of benediction, a beaver-dam, that was visibly of at least fifty years standing. What particular addition our over-flowing felicity was to derive from the neighbourhood of these sagacious builders, may not be easily conjectured. It was not their society, for they were much too wise to remain in our vicinity, nor yet their example, which, though a very good one, we were scarce wise enough to follow. Why then did we so much rejoice over the dwelling of these old settlers? Merely because their industry had saved us much trouble; for in the course of their labours, they had cleared above thirty acres of excellent hay land; work which we should take a long time to execute, and not perform near so well; the truth was, this industrious colony, by whose previous labour we were thus to profit, were already extirpated, to my unspeakable sorrow, who had been creating a beaver Utopia ever since I heard of the circumstance. The protection I was to afford them, the acquaintance I was to make with them, after conquering the first shyness, and the delight I was to have in seeing them work, after convincing them of their safety, occupied my whole attention, and helped to console me for the drafting of the fifty-fifth, which I had been ever since lamenting. How buoyant is the fancy of childhood! I was mortified to the utmost to hear there were no beavers remaining; yet the charming, though simple description my father gave us of this “vale of bliss,” which the beavers had partly cleared, and the whole “township of Clarendon,” (so was the new laid out territory called,) consoled me for all past disappointments.