brother shepherd of my husband from a boy, gave out the 90th psalm, and when it had been sung, he read the 14th chapter of John, and offered up a most soul-striving prayer, so that, when the corpse was lifted, there was not a dry cheek. We followed as it was carried to the deck. The ship was on the banks of Newfoundland, and the ocean was a dead calm, the new moon lighting up the thin haze of mist that lay upon it. I had wrapped my husband in his plaid, and thrust his crook lengthways through the outer fold. Holding each an end of it, two of the strongest of our men swung the body well out from the ship’s side. As it disappeared I felt that my love for man as wife had gone with it, and such a sense of desolation came over me as words cannot tell. Five days after we came to quarantine, where the sick were landed, and, just five weeks and two days from the time we left Scotland, we sailed into Quebec harbor. We were a small and heartbroken handful. Our chests had been brought on deck and we sat on them, waiting for the steamer to come alongside that was to carry us to Montreal. None of our folk had asked me what I was going to do, and I knew the reason. It was not that they were unwilling to help me, but because they had more than they could do to mind themselves. They felt for me sore, but they could not take the bite out of their own children’s mouths to give to mine. Indeed, there was hardly one of them who knew what they were going to do, for they had come to Canada to seek new homes on chance. I had had my own thoughts and had marked out what I would try to do. “There’s the steamer; get yer bairns thegither and I’ll look to yer kists.” It was a hard-favored man that spoke, a shepherd named Braxton from Cumberland, who all the voyage had hardly said a word. Glad of his help I followed him. He bought milk and bread for us when the steamer called at Three Rivers, but never saying aught until Montreal was in sight. “What beest thou gaun to do?” he asked. I said I was going to bide in Montreal and try to get something to do. I was strong and had a pair of good hands. He gave a kind of snort. “Ye canna mak eneugh to keep five bairns; ye’d better come wi’ me.” “Where till?” I asked. “I dinna knaw yet, but I’se get lan’ somewhere near and ye’se keep house for me.” “Are ye a single man?” He nodded. I sat thinking. He was a stranger to me beyond what I had seen of him on the ship. Could I trust him? Here was a home for my children in the meanwhile. For their sake would I do right to refuse the offer? My mind was made up, and I told him I would go with him. “I canna offer thee wages,” he said. “I dinna ask any.” “Very well,” he replied, and no more was said.