82
An Arctic Vision.
"Wa'll, I reckon 'tain't so bad,
Seein' ez 't was all they had;
True, the Springs are rather late
And early Falls predominate;
But the ice crop's pretty sure,
And the air is kind o' pure;
'Taint so very mean a trade,
When the land is all surveyed.
There's a right smart chance for fur-chase
All along this recent purchase,
And unless the stories fail,
Every fish from cod to whale;
Rocks, too; mebbee quartz; let's see—
'T would be strange if there should be—
Seems I've heerd such stories told;
Eh!—why, bless us—yes, it's gold!"
While the blows are falling thick
From his California pick,
You may recognize the Thor
Of the vision that I saw—
Freed from legendary glamour,
See the real magician's hammer.
