Far in the frozen regions of the North,
The dwarfish native of those dreary plains
Turns, with disdain, from him whose kindly zeal
Would lure him from his cold and gloomy land.
While, under burning skies, in torrid climes,
The dull inhabitant, in calm content,
Dreams through his life in sluggish indolence.
Nor cares, nor wishes for a happier home.”
Chapter IX
“How’s this, boy? Why are the props removed from this frail plant?”