"Yes, indeed," said he, gravely. "And that comprehensive project was not practicable: it was too big—too visionary. But for some time back I have been making inquiries: indeed I went down to Portree chiefly to see one of the Committee who manage the Emigrants’ Information Office—he is taking his holiday in Skye at present. And if in a more modest and reasonable way I could take a number of the people away with me, and found a little colony out in Queensland or in Canada, that would give you some relief, and make it easier for those remaining behind—would it not? North-Western Canada and Queensland—perhaps you know—are the only colonies that offer the immigrant a free homestead of 160 acres; and Canada is especially hospitable, for at all the ports there are Government agents, for the purpose of giving the immigrants every information and procuring them work. Oh, I am very well aware," he continued—seeing that she was silent and absorbed—"that emigration is not a certain panacea. There is no assurance that the emigrant is going to leave all his ills and troubles behind him. Very often the first generation have to suffer sore hardship; then the next reap the reward of their toil and perseverance. And home-sickness—well, plenty of them never get over that; and naturally, if they are home-sick, they exaggerate their sufferings and misfortunes." He sought in his pockets and brought out a letter. "Perhaps you would care to read that—I found it awaiting me when I came home this time."