TWENTY-FIFTH ANNIVERSARY OF THE PROVINCE OF NELSON.

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume II, Issue 29, 5 February 1867, Page 3

TWENTY-FIFTH ANNIVERSARY OF THE PROVINCE OF NELSON.

WRITTEN JX ITS CELEBRATION' BY W. HOGG, riiBRTJARY IST, lß6t>. The cannon's hoom has told the hour is come, That calls on everj- loyal citizen To leave for one brief day the joys of home, And join the marshalling ranks of all good men. Hark ! merry sounds are heard from fife and drum; Lo ! flaunting banners fly in every street ; Crowds in hot hurry from the Waimeas come, With their loved friends on tliis great fete to meet ; The ships in Port are gaudily arrayed, The cars and ''lorries" deck'd with garlands gay. Father and son, mother and child and maid, With smiles appear to hail this happy day ; The kind desire to please, as well's he pleased, Seems truly to have every bosom seized. A quarter of a century, tliis day, Has been enrolled upon the book of time, •Since the old Fi.csliire cross'd our placid Eay, To land her freight in sunny Nel.-on's clime. The Miori on Britannia Heights beheld The good ship floating o'er the waters blue ; In transports of amaze they loudly yell'd To see her so unuke iheir own canoe: "She comes!" they cried; "in mighty beauty conies, Laden with strangers from a far offshore, To seek in Wakatu their future homes, And with the Maori live for evermore ; Perhaps, to mako the hills and valleys smile With the strong arm of all subduing toil." A quarter of a century is past I And what have those who form'd the Fifeshire's ireight Done in that time to make their mem'ries last ? Lo ! look around and say what greets thy sight; Behold these banners floating on the air, Surrounded by a thousand happy men ; Behold, still dearer, all these rows of fair And charming women, all our own since then- ; B'.hr-.ld tliese streets, in many a goodly row They tell what willing hearts and hands may earn. This city's site, .some twenty years a<ro, Was a wide waste of useless flax and fern ; And now, it is the beauty of these Isles — A lovely child of persevering toils. I've stood upon the Grampian Mountains' slope, And look'd adown upon our city fair — Fair as a new made bride, and full of hope As her warm heart ; for all was beauty there : Its " decent Church " upon a little hill, Its villas bright embower'd 'mid verdant trees, Its spacious stores, neat cots, and old windmill. Lend to the scene a charm, that all must please; And the low sounds of traffic which are heard Arising on the noontide breezes, tell How stalwart, labor earneth its reward, And why its homes with gath'ring comforts swell, That speak of happiness, of love, and hope — ia this once barren waste— from shore to mountain slope. On Jenkins' Hill I've also stood, to view The rich luxuriance of the Waimea Plain. 'Twas summer, and the skies were speckless blue; The sun shone brightly on the ripening grain; Lire seem'd to animate the wide expanse— .'locks cropped the hills, and cattle browsed the fields ; Across the paddocks well-fed steeds did prance, Full ofthe life lhat plenty ever yields. From hill to beach, far as the eye could see, The seen a was dotted o'er wiih homes of bliss, Where meek content, link'd to prosperity, Secured to honest worth true happiness ; Which seemed a meet, reward for those whose toil Hus made the wilderness a garden smile. Go, climb the brow that overlooks our Port ; Behold the congregated fleet moor'a there — Fine ships of many lands, which there resort, lh' expanding commerce of our town to share. A few short years ago, the wild birds flew Around unsear'd, where now these vessels lie : But seldom now is heard a lone seamew, The din of trade supplants its screeching cry ; Cars, carriages, and waggons hour hy hour Increase the bustle of the earnest throng, Who share the wealth that trade and commerce pour Into the laps of all who them belong. God speed the prows that plough the ocean wide, Till mankind all by commerce are allied ! And speed the Press that strews these leaves around — The guardian warder of true liberty ! Where'er the sons of Britain's Isles have found A home, as the sea breeze the Press is free ; Beneath its power, the would-be despot quakes, Despite the rancour of low grov'lling souls ; With awful truth the thrones of earth it shakes, The deeds, of proudest nionurchs it controls ; And while it is the arbiter of earth And boldly throws embodied mind abroad, May every daj* behold it grow in worth, And know no power above ir, saving God. Join'd wiih the lightning messenger of thought, And with the power that Watt called into view, Great are the deeds the Printing Press has wrought ; But it has greater works in store to do, Ere all that's base in man it shall subdue, And make him only love the good and true. Such progress shows what earnest men can do Wilhin the tide of five-and-twenty years ; Progress! which way we turn, enchants the view; All honor to our brave old Pioneers ! They dared the forests, and have fell'd them down, They drain 'd the swamps, and form'd our splend d roads, Planted the germs of many a thriving town, And strew'd the Province o'er with man's abodes ; And happily wherever these exist, A churcli and schoolhouse meet the traveller's gaze. And all his loving sympathies enlist ; Who bade them rise, deserve eternal praise. All honor to surviving Pioneers ! Blest he the rest of those who fill the tomb ! Much they have done in five-aud-twenty years. Hurrah for tyelson, our adopted home !

The Oder Zeitung says that "the wellknown dwarf Admiral Tom" (Tom Thumb ?) is about to set up a dairy at Zullichow, near Stettin.