"Don't speak so loud, Tristy," replied the woman, "but take the pack to the boat, and I will follow you." "That surely is not your child?" said Mrs. Sackville, as the boy walked off with the bundle singing, at the top of his voice, a very vulgar song, and affecting to reel like a drunken man. "No, thank God," said the woman, "he is a poor heaven-forsaken lad, who is going into Canada. He has helped me along from Buffalo, and has offered to carry my bundle to Chippewa." It occurred to Mrs. Sackville to caution the woman to be on her guard, for she thought Tristy looked wicked enough for any mischief; but a signal from the boat obliged them all to hasten to the shore. Biddy good naturedly took the eldest boy by the hand and led him to the boat, and then took leave of all her new friends, pouring forth a shower of prayers that God would bless them all, rich and poor. The woman, whom we shall henceforth call by her name, Mrs. Barton, was reserved in the expression of her feelings; but the tear of gratitude she dropped on Biddy's hand at parting, was an equivalent for the girl's voluble expressions. There was, in all the poor woman's manner, an unobtrusiveness and reserve uncommon in a person of her humble degree, and it interested Mrs. Sackville more than any solicitation could have done. She ascertained that Mrs. Barton was on her way to Quebec, where she _hoped_ to find her husband. "And have you the means of getting there?" asked Mrs. Sackville. "It is a great distance, my friend, and you cannot get across Ontario and down the St. Lawrence for a trifle." "I know that, madam; but I have some money; and if I find my own country people as kind to me as the people in the States have been, I shall do very well. Every body feels pitiful to a lone woman with little children. If it please God to mend my little girl, I shall go on with good courage."