When we arrived at the place where we were to embark, a most distressing scene took place, in the men parting with their wives. Some of them, indeed, it did not appear to affect much; others had got themselves nearly tipsy; but the most of them seemed to feel acutely. When Sandy’s wife came to take her last farewell, she lost all government of her grief. She clung to him with a despairing hold. ‘Oh, dinna, dinna leave me!’ she cried. The vessel was hauling out. One of the sergeants came to tell her that she would have to go ashore. ‘Oh, they’ll never be so hard-hearted as to part us!’ said she; and running aft to the quarter-deck, where the commanding officer was standing, she sunk down on her knees, with her child in her arms. ‘Oh! will you no let me gang wi’ my husband? Will you tear him frae his wife and his wean? He has nae frien’s but us—nor we ony but him—and oh! will ye mak’ us a’ frien’less? See my wee babie pleadin’ for us.’ The officer felt a painful struggle between his duty and his feelings; the tears came into his eyes. She eagerly caught at this as favourable to her cause, ‘Oh ay, I see you have a feeling heart—you’ll let me gang wi’ him. You have nae wife; but if you had, I am sure you wad think it unco hard to be torn frae her this way—and this wee darlin’.’ ‘My good woman,’ said the officer, ‘I feel for you much; but my orders are peremptory, that no more than six women to each hundred men go with their husbands. You have had your chance as well as the other women; and although it is hard enough on you to be separated from your husband, yet there are many more in the same predicament; and it is totally out of my power to help it.’ ‘Well, well,’ said she, rising from her knees, and straining her infant to her breast: ‘It’s a’ owre wi’ us, my puir babie; this day leaves us friendless on the wide world.’ ‘God will be your friend,’ said I, as I took the child from her until she would get into the boat. Sandy had stood like a person bewildered all this time, without saying a word. ‘Farewell, then, a last farewell, then,’ said she to him, ‘Where’s my babie?’ I handed him to her—‘Give him a last kiss, Sandy.’ He pressed the infant to his bosom in silent agony, ‘Now, a’s owre; farewell Sandy, we’ll maybe meet in heaven;’ and she stepped into the boat with a wild despairing look. The vessel was now turning the pier, and she was almost out of our sight in an instant; but as we got the last glimpse of her, she uttered a shriek, the knell of a broken heart, which rings in my ears at this moment. Sandy rushed down below, and threw himself into one of the berths, in a state of feeling which defies description. Poor fellow, his wife’s forebodings were too true! What became of her I have never been able to learn.