“The childher were cryin all night for a bite, but it wasn’t that. Little Tim was adyin on my breast, an I cudn’t bear to have him tuk from me. I wint out, I tried everywhere, I could get nothin, an thin, I wint to the soupers. It was to keep the life in Tim, yer rivirence; I burned their thracks an never tasted myself what they gev me.” With a piercing cry the woman fell prone on the floor. Father Tom’s anger passed as quickly as it rose. “Take her away,” he said to the housekeeper who hastened in, “I’ll see her after vespers.” I rose to go; he was his old self again; and with a hearty word we parted. At my uncle’s house I found a number of his neighbors waiting and we were soon discussing the subject that filled their heads. The agent had given out he had got another letter, in which the landlord mended his offer, by promising that his agent at Quebec would pay ten shillings a head on their landing at that city, and saying the Canadian government would give each family a hundred acres free. There was to be no breaking or separating of families; all would go in the same ship. Against the lure of the free passage, the ten shillings, and the hundred acres, they put leaving Ireland for such a wild, cold place as Canada, and to people in rags the thought of its frost and snow was terrible. My uncle fetched his only letter from his brother and I read it aloud. I had to do so several times, as they argued over particular statements and expressions in it. The account it gave of his comfort weighed with them. After a great deal of talk my uncle says, “Well, boys, my brother never told me a lie an I believe every word of his letter. If ye says, I’ll go wid ye, I’m for takin the offer an lavin at onct.” His decision carried them by storm, and the listless downcast men became bright and energetic with the new hope born within them. As I walked home, I thought it over. There was the possibility of their being deceived by the agent. They were ignorant of business and could easily be imposed upon. Should I not go with them and protect their interests? What was there to keep me in Ireland? Everything I had tried had gone against me. When I was in a fair way at Maynooth, the thought had possessed me the priesthood was not my vocation and I left its loved walls. Failure and disappointment had marked every effort made in other callings since. To give up my situation as teacher would matter little; its salary was a mockery. I would see Aileen. Feby. 28, 1847.--Aileen consents. Like myself an orphan, she has no ties to bind her to dear old Ireland beyond those common to all her children. We will be married the week before the ship sails. Gave up my school today. As I mean to keep a journal of the voyage, I sat down tonight and wrote the foregoing, to remind me in future years of the causes that led to my decision.