Well, this arn't in pencil, and it arn't my name, it's ink, and such ink! I believe it's made from charcoal. Everything here is made of wood, even to the fire-irons and hearthstones. We are not where we was. Different portions of this letter have been inscribed in different places (small chance of your being able to read it if it had not). It was begun in Montreal, continued in Sherbrooke, and I am now writing at the Eastern Township Hotel, Eton Corner, near Birchton, P.Q., which I have every reason to believe will be Henry's field of action. I may hereafter be able to add for certain that he is settled, and upon what terms. All I can say at present is that a certain farmer named Hardy has consented to take him. I have not seen the man yet, he was called away suddenly on some important business and could not let me know in time to stop rife coming here to see him. I am told it's a first-rate farm and the man is well off, which is security against Henry suddenly being discharged owing to impecuniosity on the farmer's part, a thing which seems to be of pretty frequent occurrence about here, or, in fact, anywhere else. We went out to the farm this morning, and saw the man's father, who lives with him; he is a very decent old chap, but he is going away on Sunday for some time. Henry liked the look of the place very much indeed. It is about sixteen miles from Sherbrooke, and four-and-a-half from the station (Birchton). The country is a good deal wilder than any we have seen yet, though very pretty, nothing but wood all round, mostly pine, but not large timber. The village is also a pretty little place, it looks like a few houses--all wood--built in a field, with a road running through the middle of them, a road that would be considered a disgrace to any county in England, but which passes for a very fair one here. By-the-bye, jack-boots are such an evident necessity here that I advised Henry to get another pair before he left Sherbrooke, which he did for $2 25c., or about nine shillings. Boots of every sort are much cheaper here, though the boot-maker himself said they were not so good; still they look to me to have a great deal of hard wear in them, and there is a wonderful difference in the price. I don't think Henry could have done without another pair, as they are by a long way the safest and best things to wear in the winter. (Sunday morning.) I have'nt been to church this morning, because it's three-and-a-half or four miles away, and the roads (owing to heavy rains yesterday and last night) are a mass of mud, and I have nothing but thin shoes. You see I came down from Montreal expecting to be back again on Saturday morning, and I can't get back now before Tuesday morning. I saw Hardy last night, and slept at his farm with Henry. I think on the whole he is well placed, for placed he certainly is. I made up my mind long ago to close with the first chance that offered for him unless there was some good moral or political reason against doing so.