A Yeoman Friend In England, On Being Told That I Had Arrived Safely At
Boston, After Encountering Great Danger In A Gale, "Reckoned That It Was
Somewhere Down In Lincolnshire."
With these instances of ignorance, and many more which I could name, fresh
in my recollection, I am not at all surprised that few persons should be
acquainted with the locality of a spot of earth so comparatively obscure
as Prince Edward Island.
When I named my destination to my friends prior
to my departure from England, it was supposed by some that I was going to
the Pacific, and by others that I was going to the north-west coast of
America, while one or two, on consulting their maps, found no such island
indicated in the part of the ocean where I described it to be placed.
Now, Prince Edward Island is the abode of seventy thousand human beings.
It had a garrison, though now the loyalty of its inhabitants is
considered a sufficient protection. It has a Governor, a House of
Assembly, a Legislative Council, and a Constitution. It has a wooden
Government House, and a stone Province Building. It has a town of six
thousand people, and an extensive shipbuilding trade, and, lastly, it has
a prime minister. As it has not been tourist-ridden, like Canada or the
States, and is a terra incognita to many who are tolerably familiar with
the rest of our North American possessions, I must briefly describe it,
though I am neither writing a guide-book nor an emigrant's directory.
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