The Pilot, Cazenovia, NY, January 7, 1810

FOR THE PILOT.
        The moon had just risen above the highest hill, on a beautiful evening in may, and the nightingale, sweet songstress of the grove, had began to tune her cheerful lays, when I walked out of my cottage to enjoy the pleasures afforded by the objects around me.  The beautiful prospect of a lake expanded in front of the village before me, the handsome farms that bordered on the lake, the towering forest a small distance back, the tall spire of the church that glittered profusely in the beams of the new risen moon, and a full view of an elegant mansion which overlooked the whole lake and village, where objects too pleasing not to enjoyed by one fond of rural scenes and rural life.  The waters discharged from the lake, ran roaring over a dam, the lowing of kine and their responsive young, the bleating of sheep and their tinkling bells, with their discordant notes filled the ear, and conspired with the prospect presented to the eye, to fill my mind with the most agreeable sensations.
        Lovely village, said I to myself, as I walked along on the banks of the lake agitated with a slight breeze, is this the spot which a few years since, was the abode of savage beasts and men more savage than they?  As I spoke, a band of music struck up a lively tune, which made a sweet contrast to the melody of the groves and fields.  I paused, I stopped, at the melodious sound.  Is this, methought, an enchanted spot, or am I actually in a Paradise surpassing Eden of old?  What a beautiful prospect do I behold, what soul-enrapturing sounds do I hear?  Had I the genius of a Shakespear, or the imagination of a Thompson, this sequestered spot should be immortalized by my lay, or if I proposed the descriptive powers of Sterne, it should be immortalized in a story. ? here the majesty of the forest has bowed to the arm of man, and those lengthy bridges, those useful mills, numerous machines, neat cottages, elegant mansions and that tall spire, attest to the industry, taste, wealth and religious character of the villagers.  Happy, thrice happy, said I, are such a people.  Under the freest, happiest and best form of government in the whole world, living on the richest soil beneath the sun, enjoying the blessings of Heaven never vouchsafed before to man since he left the garden of Eden; can such a people repine at their highly favored lot?  At that instant of time a number of boisterous fellows passed by me blaspheming the name of God and cursing the general government.  Their bitter imprecations and horrid oaths, interrupted my pleasure, and I returned to my cottage.
         Such, said I, is the state of thankless man, ever restless, he overlooks the greatest blessings while he possesses them, and like the cock that found a diamond, considers them of no value.