I began sorrowfully to examine my official conscience to discover for
which of my unatoned-for sins I had been exiled to this dreary land.
Many a time in after years did I see a stranger leave the steamer,
walk, as I had done, to the utmost extremity of the seaport, and
stand at the corner of the butcher's shop, gazing on the swamps, the
tea-tree, and the far-away wooded hills, the Strelezcki ranges. The
dismal look of hopeless misery thatstole over his countenance was
pitiful to behold. After recovering the power of speech, his first
question was, "How is it possible that any man could ever consent to
live in a hole like this?" Here the Principal Inhabitant intervened,
and poured balm on the wounded spirit of the stranger. He gently
reminded him that first impressions are not always to be relied on;
and assured him that if he would condescend to take up his abode with
us for two or three years, he would never want to live anywhere else.
The climate was delicious, the best in the world; it induced a
feeling of repose, and bliss, and sweet contentment. We had no ice
or snow, or piercing blasts in winter; and the heat of summer was
tempered by the cool breezes of the Pacific Ocean, which gently
lapped our lovely shores. The land, when cleared, was as rich and
fertile as the farmer's heart could wish, yielding abundant pasturage
both in summer and winter.
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