  In presenting this little book to her readers, the author is giving back to them in a collected form much that has previously been given them—anonymously, or under the nom-de-plume, first, of "Emillia," then of "Xenette," or, finally, under her true name either as Miss Vining or Mrs. Yule—and also, much that they have never before seen. Some of these poems have been widely circulated, not only in Canada, but in the United States and Great Britain; and some appear for the first time in the pages of this book. They are offered solely upon their merits; and upon those alone they must stand or fall. Whatever there is in them calculated to stir the heart of our common Humanity,—to voice forth its joys or its sorrows,—to truly interpret its emotions,—or to give utterance to its aspirations and its hopes, will live; that which does not thus speak for Humanity, has no right to live; and the sooner it finds a merited oblivion the better for its author and the world. These poems are essentially Canadian. They have nearly all been written on Canadian soil;-their themes and incidents—those that are not purely imaginary or suggested by current events in other countries—are almost wholly Canadian; and they are mainly the outgrowth of many and varied experiences in Canadian life. To the author, there is hardly one that has not its little, local history, and that does not awaken reminiscences of some quiet Canadian home,—some rustic Canadian school-house,—some dreamy hour in the beautiful Canadian forests,—some morning or evening walk amidst Canadian scenery,—or some pleasant sail over Canadian waters. They have been written under widely different circumstances; and, in great part, in brief intervals snatched from the arduous duties of teaching, or the more arduous ones of domestic life. Of the personal experiences traceable through many of them, it is not necessary to speak. We read in God's word that "He fashioneth their hearts alike;" therefore there is little to be found in any human experience, that has not its counterpart, in some sort, in every other, and he alone is the true Poet who can so interpret his own, that they will be recognized as, in some sense, the real, or possible experiences of all. Trusting that these unpretending lyrics may be able thus to touch a responsive chord in many hearts, and with a sincere desire to offer a worthy contribution to the literature of our new and prosperous country, they are respectfully submitted to the public by the AUTHOR INGERSOLL, ONT., |
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