“The flag that braved a thousand years The battle and the breeze.” As soon as we had eaten and drunk to our satisfaction, a dance was proposed and acceded to by the party. The band struck up “The Wind Shakes the Barley:” country dances, Scotch reels, and “French fours,” were kept up with great spirit on the level turf—“All under the greenwood tree.” “For all that day to the rebeck gay They danced with frolicsome swains.” Those of our party who did not patronize the dance, amused themselves with ball-playing and a variety of old English games. The day was lovely; and the spot chosen for our sports is one of the most beautiful natural meadows I ever beheld. We kept our fete in honour of King William on a smooth green semi-circular meadow, of large extent, ornamented here-and-there with clumps of magnificent button-wood trees.[1] Towards the north, skirting the meadow, a steep bank rises in the form of an amphitheatre, thickly-wooded—tree above tree, from the base to the crown of the ridge. The rapid waters of the Maitland form the southern and western boundary of this charming spot,—then not a little enhanced by the merry groups which dotted the surface of the meadow, and woke its lone echoes with music and song. [1] Both the wood and the growth of this tree greatly resemble the sycamore. I was much amused by a Yankee mill-wright, who had contracted to build a large grist-mill for the Company, both in Guelph and Goderich. He appeared enchanted with the whole day’s proceedings. “I do declare,” he said, “if this don’t almost put me in mind of the 4th of July. Why, you Britishers make as much fuss proclaiming your king as we do celebrating our anniversary of Independence. Well, it does me good to look at you. I vow if I don’t feel quite loyal. Come, let us drink the old gentleman’s health agin. I guess, I feel as dry as a sand-bank after so much hollering.” The setting sun warned us to discontinue our pastime and prepare for a move. Before doing so, however, the squire again came forward, and after thanking us for our attendance, loyalty, &c., he proposed “we should give three cheers more for the King, and three for Queen Adelaide,” which were given with all the power of our lungs, not a little aided by sundry potations imbibed by the loyal in drinking their Majesties’ healths during the day’s proceeding. Three cheers were then given for the Canada Company, three for the Commissioners, and three for the old Doctor. Thus terminated the proclamation of our sovereign in the Bush. Mr. Prior had kindly issued invitations to the _élite_ to a ball and supper at Reid’s Hotel, which was well attended. The refreshments were excellent, the supper capital; and the dancing was kept up with great spirit till day-light warned us to depart.