The girl turned round, and gave him a quick, shy glance, then burst out into a simpering laugh. “Meary, will you take oie?” (jogging her elbow.) “I will,” cried the girl, jumping up from the log, and running into the house. “Well, that bargain's made,” said the lover, rubbing his hands; “and now, oie'll go and bid measter and missus good-buoy.” The poor fellow's eyes were full of tears, for the children, who loved him very much, clung, crying, about his knees. “God bless yees all,” sobbed the kind-hearted creature. “Doan't forget Jacob, for he'll neaver forget you. Goodbuoy!” Then turning to Mary, he threw his arms round her neck, and bestowed upon her fair cheek the most audible kiss I ever heard. “And doan't you forget me, Meary. In two years oie will be back to marry you; and maybe oie may come back a rich man.” Mary, who was an exceedingly pretty girl, shed some tears at the parting; but in a few days, she was as gay as ever, and listening with great attention to the praises bestowed upon her beauty by an old bachelor, who was her senior by five-and-twenty years. But then he had a good farm, a saddle mare, and plenty of stock, and was reputed to have saved money. The saddle mare seemed to have great weight in old Ralph T----h's wooing; and I used laughingly to remind Mary of her absent lover, and beg her not to marry Ralph T----h's mare. CHAPTER VII. THE LITTLE STUMPY MAN. Before I dismiss for ever the troubles and sorrows of 1836, I would fain introduce to the notice of my readers some of the odd characters with whom we became acquainted during that period. The first that starts vividly to my recollection is the picture of a short, stumpy, thick-set man--a British sailor, too--who came to stay one night under our roof, and took quiet possession of his quarters for nine months, and whom we were obliged to tolerate from the simple fact that we could not get rid of him. During the fall, Moodie had met this individual (whom I will call Mr. Malcolm) in the mail-coach going up to Toronto. Amused with his eccentric and blunt manners, and finding him a shrewd, clever fellow in conversation, Moodie told him that if ever he came into his part of the world he should be glad to renew their acquaintance. And so they parted, with mutual good-will, as men often part who have travelled a long journey in good fellowship together, without thinking it probable they should ever meet again.