In such a gay and festive scene as this, My worthy friends, it may not be amiss To mingle with the general notes of glee, A rhyme or too, even if not poesy. Indulge me while in rude unpolished verse, The promptings of the muse I now rehearse, And O! deal gently with me while I try To bring the vanished past before your eye, Fond recollections rapidly takes wing The fading scenes of other days to sing, The good old days, the dear old times of yore, Which you and I, alas! shall see no more: When all around the spot on which I stand Was trackless forest and primeval land-- The "Barrack Hill," a wilderness all o'er, And Lower Town to Rideau's ancient shore A gloomy cedar swamp, the haunt of deer, In which the ruffed grouse drum'd when spring was near, While here and there a giant pine on high Towered with its spreading branches to the sky! I have the little village in my eye, Before the locks were built by Colonel By, Before the Sappers threw the ponderous arch, O'er the Canal, to aid improvement's march, Ere by the muscular canaller's spade The ground was broken where the "Deep Cut's" made-- Long ere the iron bond of union span'd The vast _Kah-nah-jo_, wonder of our land! Here mighty Ottawa, in its grandest phase Bears some resemblance to its better days, Ere sawdust, slabs, and stern improvement gave A turbid deathstroke to its limpid wave! That good old time, 'tis pleasant to recal, When one religion almost served for all-- When men together could in friendship join-- When battered buttons passed for genuine coin-- And silver pieces, do not think it strange, Were cut in too, and four, to make small change, When banks were few, suspensions heard of not, And specie was the only cash we got, Hard silver with no discount on our dollars, Ere brokers reigned, or flourished paper collars. Tho' dim the light of learning's genial rays Amongst the masses in those bygone days-- Tho' daily papers, modern luxury's food, The bold apostles of the public good, The tribunes of the people were not found On guard our infant liberties around, Tho' institutions based on mental light, Shed scanty radiance o'er that primal night, Tho' science, wealth and philosophic lore Were _rara aves_ upon Ottawa's shore; Tho' commerce scarce had spread her gilded wings, The herald of a costlier state of things; Tho' such an institution as our own, Was to our early pioneers unknown, An institution, let me say, in short, Worthy of every patriot's support; Established on a comprehensive base. Where every man of worth may find his place-- temple of intelligence to give To mind the sustenance on which to live, Tho' all such modern glories then were rare, Yet old Bytonians did not badly fare. Churches were few in that benighted time, Seldom was heard the Sabbath's welcome chime-- Yet brotherhood abounded in the land, And charity with soft and tender hand Relieved distress, and made the weeper smile, Scarce conscious of the good she did the while,