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Catharine Parr Strickland Traill
Catharine Parr Strickland Traill (1802–1899) was a British-Canadian author and naturalist known for her works that vividly describe pioneer life in early Canada. She is best known for her book "The Backwoods of Canada" (1836), which provides a detailed account of her experiences as a settler in the Canadian wilderness. Traill's writings also include extensive observations on the flora and fauna of the region, reflecting her deep interest in natural history.
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INTRODUCTION AMONG the numerous works on Canada that have been published within the last ten years, with emigration for their leading theme, there are few, if any, that give information regarding the domestic economy of a settler's life, sufficiently minute to prove a faithful guide to the person on whose responsibility the whole comfort of a family depends— the mistress, whose department it is...
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CHAPTER I. THE FLYING SQUIRREL—ITS FOOD—STORY OF A WOLF—INDIAN VILLAGE—WILD RICE. "Nurse, what is the name of that pretty creature you have in your hand? What bright eyes it has! What a soft tail, just like a grey feather! Is it a little beaver?" asked the Governor's [Footnote: Lady Mary's father was Governor of Canada.] little daughter, as her nurse came into the room where...
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CHAPTER I. "The morning had shot her bright streamers on high, O'er Canada, opening all pale to the sky, Still dazzling and white was the robe that she wore, Except where the ocean wave lashed on the shore" Jacobite Song There lies, between the Rice Lake and the Ontario, a deep and fertile valley, surrounded by lofty wood-crowned hills, clothed chiefly with groves of oak...
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CHAPTER I. "The morning had shot her bright streamers on high,O'er Canada, opening all pale to the sky; Still dazzling and white was the robe that she wore,Except where the ocean wave lash'd on the shore." Jacobite Song. THERE lies between the Rice Lake and the Ontario, a deep and fertile valley, surrounded by lofty wood-crowned hills, the heights of which were clothed chiefly with...
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FIELD MOUSE. “What is my little Alfred crying for?” asked his mother, Mrs. Clifford, as she entered the room where Alfred stood weeping by the table. Come here, and tell me what is the matter with you.” Alfred slowly advanced towards his mother, and wiped away his tears with her apron. Alfred was but a little boy, or he would not have cried for such a simple thing as he did. “Well, Alfred,...
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