BIG BEAR THE INDIAN CHIEF.

The following impromptu was given at a banquet to one of the captives of Fort Pit after he had related his experience.

Sad memories it doth awake, The death of those fell at Frog Lake, And trials of captives of Fort Pit When savages did capture it.

But soon Generals Strange and Steel Made savage hordes their power to feel, And they rescued women fair From the paws of the Big Bear.

Captives for days had naught to eat But steaks of tough and lean dog meat, In daily danger of their lives From bullets and from scalping knives.

When building big lodge for war dance, The cry is heard, the troops advance, To the white captives sounds so sweet, But savages they quick retreat.

A thrilling tale our guest[A] did tell, That close to him fell bursting sh.e.l.l, This shot it was not fired in vain, For several savages were slain.

Our bold troops great danger braved, So that white captives might be saved, Who suffered hunger, cold and damp, 'Mong savage hordes in bush and swamp.

Big Bear now they have pared his claws, He must atone for broken laws, Far away from his native lair, In prison strong they put Big Bear.

[A] MR. STANLEY SIMPSON.

REMINISCENCES

On the laying of the corner stone of the Brock monument at Queenston Heights, and the final interment of the General who had fallen at the battle of Queenston, Oct. 13th, 1812. The remains of his Aide, Col.

McDonald, were also deposited under the new tower.

A wail went o'er broad Canada, When it was known a vile outlaw Had at midnight's awful hour, With ruffian hand blown up the tower.

'Neath which had slept the gallant Brock Who bravely fell on Queenston's rock, But graceful column soon shall rise, Its beauteous shaft will kiss the skies.

For from Queenston's woody height You may behold a pleasing sight, The grim old veterans of the war, Militiamen with many a scar.

Indian braves from each nation, Grouped to pay their last ovation, Round the remains of General Brock, Who led them oft in battle's shock.

Old heroes now again do rally, Feebly they move along the valley, Not as they rushed in days of yore When torrent like they onward bore.

And swept away the foeman's ranks O'er Niagara's rugged banks, So indignant was their grief On losing of their warrior chief.

Now with triumphant funeral car, Adorned with implements of war, The sad procession slow ascends, As round the hill its way it wends.

Marching to mournful, solemn note, While grand old flags around it float, And now may peace be never broken 'Mong lands where Saxon tongue is spoken.

"For peace hath victories by far More glorious than horrid war,"

England doth Longfellow revere, And America loves Shakespeare.

The oration on the above interesting occasion was delivered by the late Hon. William H. Merritt, projector of the Welland Ca.n.a.l. He served at the battle when a young man. We witnessed the interesting ceremony and shall never forget it.

PATRIOTIC ODE

Written at the time of the last excitement on the Niagara Frontier.

Rejoice, rejoice, we all do stand, United in one mighty band; No traitors in our land we find, All one in heart, all one in mind; Resolute in their opinion, None shall conquer our Dominion; For every man with dauntless mien Will rally round our flag and Queen.

PROVINCE OF ONTARIO.

In the land of woods and lakes, Pure happiness each one partakes, Who is sound in body and in mind, And to industry is inclined.

Here in great lakes we do take pride, And them with Uncle Sam divide, Other lakes seem inferior In size to great Superior.

And Canadians do take pride, In Huron's wide expanded tide, But it onward flows forever, Through St. Clair lake and river.

But soon again it doth expand, Into Erie's lake so grand, Then behold its wondrous charms, When embraced in Niagara's arms.

Then it more blessings doth bestow, On pure bosom of Ontario, Round it our towns and cities cl.u.s.ter, O'er it Toronto sheds her l.u.s.tre.

And Ontario doth awake, The thought that 'tis our favorite lake; Several states approach Lake Erie, Each one claiming it for dearie.

But our fires of love do glow, Alone for Lake Ontario, Our love for it is so unbounded, We have almost it surrounded.

And the lands around its beaches, They are famed for grapes and peaches, 'Mong choicest fruits you ramble on From Niagara to Hamilton.

Ontario North is land of pines, A land of lakes and rocks and mines, And beneath dark pine tree shade, How happy is the youth and maid.

For here in summer you keep cool, And fish for trout in sparkling pool, For pike or salmon you can spear, And in the season hunt the deer.

In great northern hunting ground, Where both fish and game abound, And verdant pastures here are seen, Where cattle graze 'mong sweetest green.

In the far north a land of pines, And in the south we have the vines, Where each year adds into the charms, Surrounds the homesteads on the farms.

Nature our province doth endow, With hardy sons to guide the plow, In south we have the fruitful soil, Where nature's bounties on us smile.

We have got rich plains and highlands, Ontario hath thousand islands, And there is a great array Of charming isles on Georgian Bay.

And travellers all they do adore, The lovely isles near Huron's sh.o.r.e, Superior makes a grand display, All round her sh.o.r.es to Thunder Bay.