Agriculture and Farm Life PROVINCIAL EXHIBITION 1896 by William Irving Thompson , Dunstaffnage, P.E.I. Just to the east of Charlottettown, And on some rising ground, And facing toward the Hillsborough A charming spot is found. From and Cardigan , St. Peter 's and Morell, They're coming by the hundred This human hive to swell. Shame on the P.E. Islander That tarries by the way, And fails to see the wondrous sights On exhibition day. And yearly there is held a fair That all may see and know, Prince Edward Island takes the lead Whatever wind may blow. They come from Malpeque in the north Bedeque and And men and maids of Will see the fair today. For there God's gifts to man are seen Fresh from the tree and field By sun and rain and brawn and brain Brought to maturity. To demonstrate to small and great, And prove conclusively Prince is a gem,- A garden in the sea. And now it's Autumn at the Park, And Exhibition week, And for a scene more grand and gay, In vain we long may seek. The spacious buildings, decked with flags Appear in royal state; While eager crowds from near and far Press in at every gate. They come from Marshfield and from York , And Dunstaffnage fair; The men and maids of Will not be wanting there. From Union and from And Winsloe too they come, And on their way from They greet the rising sun. From fair DeSable by the sea And Elliott 's bank of green, Comes many a sturdy yeoman Behind a prancing team. From Murray Harbour and Belfast , Orwell and , The horses, bikes and carriages Are choking up the way. They come from Fort Augustus hills, From Pisquid and Dromore , And from Glenfinnan 's wooded banks And Johnston's marshy shore. Like a meteor in the night, A whirlwind on the plain, From Alberton and Speeds on the western train, - Each car well filled with passengers Or loaded down with freight, All bound for town, upgrade and down They ride a merry rate. The dark-eyed sons of Rustico , Whose bread is in the deep, Who fearless ride an angry tide That they may sow and reap. Have left their fishing boats behind With sails and hatches down And with the men of Cavendish Have steered their course for town. They come from Tignish in the west, Whose steeples pierce the sky, And from the east where on the rocks The angry billows die; And from the north where ceaseless waves Beat high upon the sand And seem to say "some future day We'll swallow up the land." And pastors, judges, statemen, now Have banished every care And mingling with the sons of toil Are taking in the fair. So men from every walk in life, From every class and creed, Are posting on to By bike, or rail, or steed. And there His law's effect and cause Are seen on every hand Whether it be in raising stock Or cultivating land. Whether it be in fruit we see So pleasing to the taste Or flowers we view of every hue God's hand can still be traced. And as we move from place to place And fresh attractions find This thought should rise above the rest Is not our Father kind? Long may our Island home be famed For flowers, grain and fruit; Long may our horses, sheep and kine Be held in high repute. Yet better far a thousand times That this our land should be The home of those who wrong oppose With truth and verity. Courtesy of Wilfred Thompson -177-