I freely acknowledge that I am a romantic old woman; my children are continually telling me that such is my character, and without shame I confess the soft impeachment. I do not look upon romance as being either frivolous, unreal, or degrading; I consider it as a heaven-sent gift to the favoured few, enabling them to cast a softening halo of hope and beauty round the stern and rugged realities of daily life, and fitting them also to enter into the warm feelings and projects of the young, long after the dreams of love and youth have become to themselves things of the past. After this exordium, I need hardly say that I love and am loved by young people, that I have been the depositary of many innocent love secrets, and have brought more than one affair of the kind to a happy conclusion. I feel tempted to record my last experience, which began in France and ended happily in Muskoka. The parties, I am happy to say, are still living, to be, I doubt not, greatly amused at my faithful reminiscences of their past trials.

Just seven years ago I was in France busily working in my beautiful flower-garden, when I was told that visitors awaited me in the drawing-room. Hastily pulling off my garden-gloves and apron, I went in and found a very dear young friend, whom I shall call John Herbert; he asked my permission to present to me four young ladies of his acquaintance, all sisters, and very sweet specimens of pretty, lady-like English girls. The eldest, much older than the rest, and herself singularly attractive, seemed completely to merge her own identity in that of her young charges, to whose education she had devoted the best years of her early womanhood, and who now repaid her with loving affection and implicit deference to her authority. It was easy for me to see that the “bright, particular star” of my handsome, dashing young friend was the second sister, a lovely, shy girl of sixteen, whose blushes and timidity fully assured me of the state of matters between the two.

The mother of Mary Lennox (such was my heroine’s name) lived in France, her father in England, and in this divided household the care of the three younger girls had been entirely left to their eldest sister. John Herbert had made their acquaintance in that extraordinary manner in which young ladies and gentlemen do manage to become acquainted, as often in real life as in novels, without any intercourse between the respective families. For two or three months he had been much in their society, and the well-known result had followed. I have rarely seen a handsomer couple than these boy and girl lovers, on whom the eldest sister evidently looked with fond and proud admiration; and when, after a protracted visit, they took leave of me, I felt fully disposed to treat them with the warmest kindness and friendship.

In subsequent interviews, poor Herbert more fully opened his heart to me, and laid before me all his plans and projects for the future. The son of an old officer who fell during the Crimean war, he had neither friends nor fortune, but had to make his own position in the world. At this time he was twenty-one, and having just entered the merchant service was about to sail for Australia.

He told me also of the fierce opposition made by every member of Mary’s family, except her eldest sister, to their engagement. I was not at all surprised at this, and told him so; for could anything be more imprudent than an engagement between two people so young and so utterly without this world’s goods?

Mary, like himself, had neither fortune nor prospects. She was going to England to a finishing school with her two sisters, with the fixed idea of qualifying herself for a governess. Herbert entreated me to be a friend to these dear girls in his absence, to watch especially over his Mary during their brief holidays which were to be spent in France, to be his medium of correspondence with her while away, and above all to watch for every incidental opening to influence her family in his favour.

To all his wishes I at last consented, not without seriously laying before him that his carrying out this wish of his heart mainly depended upon his own steadiness, good conduct, and success in his profession. He promised everything, poor fellow, and religiously kept his promise. A few hurried interviews at my house were followed by a tearful farewell, and then, for the first time, the young lovers drifted apart. Herbert sailed for Australia, and Mary and her sisters crossed the Channel and went to school.

I shall try briefly to sketch the appearance of my two young friends at this momentous epoch of their lives. Mary Lennox had large, soft, grey eyes full of expression, with very beautifully pencilled eyebrows of dark-brown, the colour of her hair, of which she had a great abundance. She had a very handsome nose, and a well-formed face, with a colour varying with every shade of feeling. In height she was rather below than above middle size, with a pretty, slight figure, girlish and graceful. In complexion she was a fair brunette, which suited well with the colour of her eyes and hair. A great charm to me was the shy, downcast look of her pretty face, partly arising from the natural timidity of her character, and partly from the novelty of her position.

After a confidential intercourse of some weeks, I found her possessed of considerable character and steady principles, and her early engagement seemed to have given her far more serious views of life and its duties, than could have been expected in one so young. While her more mercurial sisters were romping in my garden, and chasing my pussy cats, she would mostly sit with her hand confidingly in mine, while her eldest sister and myself talked of books, music, and all the topics of the day.

As to John Herbert, none could look upon him and not acknowledge that he was as eminently handsome as his young lady-love. Not above middle height, his figure was slight and elegant, but well knit and muscular, giving promise of still greater strength when more fully developed. His merry laughing eyes were a clear hazel, with yellow spots, very uncommon and very beautiful. His features finely cut, and delicately chiselled, would have been perfect, but that critics pronounced his nose to be a trifle too long. His eyebrows were dark and rather thickly marked, giving great expression to his eyes. A beautiful head of dark curly hair, and a soft short moustache completed the appearance of one of the handsomest boys I have ever seen.

At this time he was full of energy, life, and determination, fond of active, outdoor employment, with a presence of mind and a dauntless courage which never failed him in moments of danger, and which enabled him in after years to extricate himself and others from scenes of imminent danger. Indeed, his sister averred that such was his presence of mind, that should his ship be wrecked, and every one on board be lost, Herbert would surely be saved if with only a butter-boat to cling to. He was truly affectionate and kind-hearted, but at this early age slightly imperious and self-willed, having been greatly flattered and spoilt in childhood; but contact with the world does much to smooth off the sharpest angularities and poor Herbert had a rough future before him.

After Herbert had sailed for Melbourne, and Mary and her sisters had gone to school, more than a year elapsed, during which time letters duly arrived, which I carefully forwarded; and soon after the expiration of that time, he and his ship arrived safely at Liverpool. Having with some difficulty obtained from the owners a few days’ leave, he hurried over to France to see and reassure his anxious and beloved Mary. Fortunately it was the Christmas holidays, and as soon as I could notify his arrival to Miss Lennox, she brought all the dear girls down to me.

Then ensued, for the lovers, long walks up and down my garden, in spite of the cold; for us all a few pleasant tea-parties; and then another separation, which this time was to extend over more than three years.

I am by no means favourable to long engagements, but these two were so young that I have always considered the years of anxiety and suspense they passed through, as an excellent training-time for both. They certainly helped to form Mary’s character, and to give her those habits of patience and trusting hopefulness which have been of so much benefit to her since. Nor was she ever allowed to think herself forgotten. Fond and affectionate letters came regularly every month, and at rare intervals such pretty tokens of remembrance as the slender means of her sailor lover could procure. Perfumes and holy beads from India, feathers from Abyssinia, and a pretty gold ring, set with pearls of the purest water, from the Persian Gulf.

Later came the pleasing intelligence that John Herbert had passed an excellent examination to qualify him as mate, and was on board one of the ships belonging to the company which took out the expedition for laying the cable in the Persian Gulf. On board this ship, called the British India, he met with a gentleman, whose influence over his future fate has long appeared to us all providential. This person was Major C——, the officer in command of the party sent out. They had many conversations together; and cheered and encouraged by his kindness, Herbert ventured to address a letter to him, in which he stated how much he was beginning to suffer from the heat of India; how in his profession he had been driven about the world for nearly five years, and still found himself as little able to marry and settle as at first; that he had no friend to place him in any situation which might better his position, and that his desire to quit a seafaring life was increased by the fact that he was never free from sea-sickness, which pursued and tormented him in every voyage just as it did in the beginning.

The kind and gentlemanly Major C—— responded warmly to this appeal; they had a long interview, in which he told Herbert that he himself was about to return to England, and felt sure that he could procure for him a good situation in the Telegraph Department in Persia. He gave him his address in London, and told him to come and see him as soon as he got back from India.

John Herbert lost no time, when the expedition was successfully over, in giving up his situation as mate, and in procuring all necessary testimonials as to good conduct and capacity. Indeed, he so wrought upon the officials of the British India, that they gave him a free passage in one of their ships as far as Suez. The letter containing the news of his improved prospects and speedy return occasioned the greatest joy.

I had some time before made the acquaintance of Mrs. Lennox, and from her manner, as well as from what Mrs. Lennox told me, I saw with joy that all active opposition was over, and that the engagement was tacitly connived at by the whole family. It was in the beginning of April that John Herbert arrived, his health much improved by absolute freedom from hard work and night watches. He had to pay all his own expenses from Suez, and just managed the overland journey on his little savings of eighteen or twenty pounds.

The “lovers’ walk” in my garden was now in constant occupation, and the summer-house at the end became a permanent boudoir. After a few days given to the joy of such an unexpected and hopeful reunion, Herbert wrote to Major C—— to announce his arrival, and to prepare him for a subsequent visit. He waited some days in great anxiety, and when he received the answer, brought it directly to me. I will not say that despair was written on his face—he was of too strong and hopeful a temperament for that—but blank dismay and measureless astonishment certainly were, and not without cause. The writer first expressed his deep regret that any hope he had held out of a situation should have induced Herbert to give up his profession for a mere chance. He then stated that on his own return to England he had found the Government in one of its periodical fits of parsimony, and that far from being able to make fresh appointments, he had found his own salary cut down, and all supernumeraries inexorably dismissed. Such were the contents of Major C——’s letter. It was indeed a crushing blow. John Herbert could not but feel that his five years of tossing about the world in various climates had been absolutely lost, so far as being settled in life was concerned, and he could not but feel also that he had again to begin the great battle of life, with prospects of success much diminished by the fact of his being now nearly twenty-six years of age.

Many long and anxious conversations ensued on the receipt of this letter. Both Herbert and Mary bravely bore up against the keen disappointment of all their newly-raised hopes. If the promised and coveted situation had been secured, there would have been nothing to prevent their almost immediate marriage; now all chance of this was thrown far into the background, and all that could be done was to trace out for Herbert some future plan of life to be begun with as little delay as possible. At the death of a near relative he would be entitled to a small portion of money amounting to five hundred pounds. This he now determined to sink for the present sum of two hundred pounds tendered by the Legal Assurance Society, in lieu of all future claims.

It was the end of July, 1870, before the necessary papers were all signed, and with the money thus raised, Herbert resolved at once to start for New York, where he proposed embarking his small capital in some business in which his thorough knowledge of French might be useful to him. He prudently expended a portion of his money in a good outfit and a gold watch.

Soon after his arrival in New York he wrote to tell us that at the same hotel where he boarded he had met with an old French gentleman recently from Paris, that they had gone into partnership and had opened a small establishment on Broadway for the sale of French wines and cigars. He wrote that they had every hope of doing well, numbers of foreigners buying from them, Frenchmen particularly coming in preference where they could freely converse in their own language. Just at this epoch the French and German war broke out, and stretching as it were across the broad Atlantic, swept into its ruinous vortex the poor little business in New York on which dear friends at home were building up such hopes of success. Herbert and his partner found their circle of French customers disappear as if by magic, the greater part recalled to their own country to serve as soldiers. No German would enter a French store, the English and Americans gave them no encouragement, and amid the stirring events which now occupied the public mind, the utter failure of the small business on Broadway took place without exciting either notice or pity.

Herbert saved nothing from the wreck of affairs but his gold watch and his clothes. It was about this time that a casual acquaintance mentioned to John Herbert the “free-grant lands” of Muskoka, pointing them out as a wide and promising field for emigration. He told him that he knew several families who had located themselves in that distant settlement, and who had found the land excellent, the conditions on which it was to be held easy of fulfilment, and the climate, though cold, incomparably healthy.

This intelligence, coming at a time when all was apparently lost, and his future prospects of the gloomiest kind, decided John Herbert to find his way to Muskoka and to apply for land there. He found a companion for his long journey in the person of a German who had come over with him in the same ship from Havre, and who, like himself, had entirely failed in bettering his condition in New York.

This poor young man had left a wife and child in Germany, and now that the war had broken out, having no vocation for fighting, he was afraid to venture back. Herbert sold his gold watch (for which he had given twenty pounds) for fifty dollars, and his companion being much on a par as to funds, they joined their resources and started for Muskoka. After a very fatiguing journey, performed as much as possible on foot, but latterly partly by rail and partly by boat, they arrived at Bracebridge, where the German took up one hundred acres, Herbert preferring to wait and choose his land in spring; and it was agreed that during the winter, now beginning with great severity, they should work together and have everything in common.

Having engaged a man who knew the country well to go with them and point out the land they had just taken up, they bought a few necessary articles, such as bedding, tools, a cooking-stove, and a small supply of provisions, and started for the township in which they were about to locate. Once upon the land they set to work, cleared a spot of ground, and with some assistance from their neighbours built a small shanty sufficient to shelter them for the winter. It was when they were tolerably settled that Herbert began to feel what a clog and a hindrance his too hastily formed partnership was likely to be. Feeble in body and feeble in mind, his companion became every day more depressed and home-sick. At last he ceased entirely from doing any work, which threw a double portion upon Herbert, who had in addition to do all commissions, and to fetch the letters from the distant post-office in all weathers.

Poor Wilhelm could do nothing but smoke feebly by the stove, shudder at the cold now becoming intense, and bemoan his hard fate. He was likewise so timid that his own shadow frightened him, and he could not bear to be left alone in the shanty. Herbert had a narrow escape of being shot by him one night on his return, rather late, from the post-office. Wilhelm, hearing footsteps, in his fright took down from the wall Herbert’s double-barrelled gun, which was kept always loaded, and was vainly trying to point it in the right direction, out of the door, when Herbert entered to find him as pale as death, and with limbs shaking to that degree that fortunately he had been unable to cock the gun.

It was indeed hard to be tied down to such a companionship. Herbert himself suffered severely from the cold of the Canadian climate, coming upon him as it did after some years’ residence in India, but he never complained, and his letters home to Mary and all of us spoke of hopeful feelings and undiminished perseverance. He has often told us since that he never left the shanty without a strong presentiment that on his return he should find it in flames, so great was the carelessness of his companion in blowing about the lighted ashes from his pipe. For this reason he always carried in the belt he wore round him, night and day, his small remainder of money and all his testimonials and certificates. A great part of his time was occupied in snaring rabbits and shooting an occasional bird or squirrel with which to make soup for his invalid companion. He used to set his snares overnight and look at them the first thing in the morning. One bitter cold morning he went out as usual to see if anything had been caught, leaving Wilhelm smoking by the stove. He returned to find the shanty in flames and his terrified companion crying, screaming, and wringing his hands. Herbert called to him in a voice of thunder, “The powder!” The frightened fool pointed to the half-burnt shanty, into which Herbert madly dashed, and emerged, half smothered, with a large carpet-bag already smouldering, in which, among all his best clothes, he had stored away his entire stock of gunpowder in canisters. He hurled the carpet-bag far off into a deep drift of snow, by which prompt measure he probably saved his own life and his companion’s, who seemed quite paralysed by fear. He then attempted to stop the fire by cutting away the burning rafters, but all his efforts were useless; hardly anything was saved but one trunk, which he dragged out at once though it was beginning to burn.

The tools, the bedding, the working-clothes, and most of his good outfit were consumed, and at night he went to bed at a kind neighbour’s who had at once taken him in, feeling too truly that he was again a ruined man.

One blessing certainly accrued to him from this sweeping misfortune. He for ever got rid of his helpless partner, who at once left the settlement, leaving Herbert again a free agent. Necessity compelled him now to do what he had never done before—to write home for assistance. His letter found his eldest sister in a position to help him, as she had just sunk her own portion in the same manner that he had done, not for her own benefit, but to assist members of the family who were in difficulties. She sent him at once fifty pounds, and with the possession of this sum all his prospects brightened.

He left the scene of his late disaster, took up one hundred acres of land for himself and another one hundred in the name of Mary Lennox, making sure that she would eventually come out to him. He set hard to work chopping and clearing a few acres, which, as the spring opened, he cropped judiciously. He then called a “bee,” which was well attended, and raised the walls of a good large log-house, the roof of which he shingled entirely himself in a masterly manner. For stock he bought two cows and some chickens; and then wrote to Mary, telling of his improved prospects, and asking her if, when he was more fully settled, she would consent to share his lot in this far-off corner of the earth. At this time Mary was on a visit to me, having been allowed, for the first time, to accept my warm invitation. All her family were at the sea-side in England, having left during the French war.

I have often said that a special Providence certainly watched over Herbert and Mary. It did seem most extraordinary that just at this particular time a married sister of John Herbert, with her husband and children, had suddenly determined to join him in Muskoka. The reason was this: Mr. C——, her husband, was the classical and mathematical professor in a large French academy; but years of scholastic duties and close attention to books had so undermined his health, that he was quite unable to continue the exercise of his profession; indeed, the medical men consulted by him gave it as their opinion that nothing but an entire change of climate and occupation, and a complete abstinence from all studious pursuits, together with an outdoor life, would give him the slightest chance of recovery. Herbert was written to and authorised to take up land for them near his own, and it was settled that they were to sail in the end of July.

Now came my time for persuasion and influence. I opened a correspondence with Mary’s father, who had recently received an explicit and manly letter from Herbert, with which he was much pleased. I represented to Mr. Lennox that this was no longer the “boy-and-girl love” (to quote his own words) of five years ago, but a steady affection, which had been severely tested by trouble, difficulty, opposition, and separation; that no future opportunity could ever be so favourable as the present one for his daughter going out to her future husband under the protection and guardianship of a family soon to become her relations, and who would, in everything, watch over her interest and comfort. In short, I left nothing unsaid that could make a favourable impression, willingly conceding to his paternal feelings that it was, in a worldly point of view, a match falling short of his just expectations for his beautiful and accomplished child.

When two or three letters had passed between us, we agreed that Mary should go over at once to her family, and join her personal influence to my special pleading.

I waited with great anxiety for her answer. At length it came. Her family had consented. Fortunately she was just of age; and as she remained steadfast in her attachment, they agreed with me that it would be best for her to go out with her future sister-in-law. Mary wrote to Mrs. C——, gratefully accepting her offer of chaperonage, and we despatched the joyful news to Herbert; but unfortunately named a date for their probable arrival which proved incorrect, as their vessel sailed from London two or three weeks before the expected time. This we shall see was productive of much temporary annoyance.

I pass over all the details of their voyage and subsequent journey, and now take up the narrative in Mrs. C——’s words, telling of their arrival at Mary’s future home:

“It was about noon of a burning day in August when the stage-wagon in which we came from Utterson turned out of the road into the Bush. After going some little way in a dreadful narrow track, covered with stumps, over which the wagon jolted fearfully, we were told to get down, as the driver could not go any farther with safety to the horses; and we therefore paid and dismissed him.

“We soon came to a shanty by the roadside, the owner of which met us and offered to be our guide. He evidently knew to whom we were going, but the perplexed and doubtful expression of his face when he caught sight of our party was most amusing. He looked from one to the other, and then burst out, in quite an injured tone, ‘But nothing is ready for you; the house even is not finished. Mr. Herbert knows nothing of your coming so soon; he told me this morning that he did not expect you for three weeks! What will he do?’ The poor man, a great friend and ally of Herbert’s, appeared quite angry at our ill-timed arrival; but we explained to him that we should only be too thankful for any kind of shelter, being dreadfully wearied with our long journey, and the poor children crying from heat, fatigue, and the attacks of the mosquitoes.

“Charles now proposed going in advance of us, to prepare Herbert for our arrival. He walked quickly on, and, entering the clearing, caught sight of Herbert, hard at work in the burning sun, covered with dust and perspiration, and, in fact, barely recognisable, being attired in a patched suit of common working-clothes, which he had snatched from the burning shanty, with his toes also peeping out of a pair of old boots with soles partly off.

“On first seeing his brother-in-law, every vestige of colour left his face, so great was his emotion, knowing that we must be close at hand. To rush into the house, after a few words of explanation, to make a brief toilet, greatly aided by a bucket of water and plenty of soap, to attire himself in a most becoming suit of cool brown linen, and, finally, to place on his hastily-brushed head a Panama hat, which we had often admired, was the work of little more than a quarter of an hour; and, to Charles’ great amusement, the scrubby, dirty-looking workman he had greeted, stepped forward in the much-improved guise of a handsome and aristocratic-looking young planter.

“In the meantime, our guide having brought us within sight of the outer fence, hastily took his leave, hardly waiting to receive our thanks. Mary and I have often laughed since at his great anxiety to get away from us, which we know now was partly from delicate reluctance to intrude upon our first interview, but a great deal more from his horror at the state in which he knew things to be at the house.

“Poor Herbert, when he reached us, could hardly speak. After one fond and grateful embrace of his darling, and a most kind and affectionate welcome to the children and myself, he conducted us to the house. Although his neighbour had prepared us for disappointment, yet I must own that we felt unutterable dismay when we looked around us.

“The house was certainly a good large one, but it was a mere shell; nothing but the walls and the roof were up, and even the walls were neither chinked nor mossed, so that we could see daylight between all the logs. The floor was not laid down, but in the middle of it an excavation had been begun for a cellar, so that there was a yawning hole, in which for some weeks my children found a play-closet and a hiding-place for all their rubbish.

“Furniture there was none, the only seats and tables being Herbert’s one trunk, partly burned, saved from the fire, and a few flour-barrels. There was no semblance of a bed, except a little hay in a corner, a few sacks, and an old blanket. Some milk-pans and a few plates and mugs completed the articles in this truly Irish cabin, of which Herbert did the honours with imperturbable grace and self-possession. He made no useless apologies for the existing discomforts; he told us simply what he meant the house to be as soon as he could get time to finish it; and in the interim he looked about with as much satisfaction as if his log-house had been Windsor Castle, and we the crowned heads to whom he was displaying its glories.

“We found the larder as scantily-furnished as the house; but Herbert made us a few cakes and baked them in the oven; he boiled some potatoes, and milked the cow, so that we were not long without some refreshment.

“For sleeping we curtained off a corner of the room with our travelling-cloaks and shawls, and made a tolerable bed with bundles of hay and a few sacks to cover us. We had brought nothing with us but our hand-baskets, so were obliged to lie down in most of our clothes, the nights beginning to be very chilly, and the night air coming in freely through the unchinked walls. We were, however, truly thankful this first night to put the children to bed quite early, and to retire ourselves, for we were thoroughly wearied and worn out. The two gentlemen lay down, just as they were, in the far corner of the room on some hay; and if we were chilly and uncomfortable, I think they must have been more so.

“The first night we were undisturbed; but on the next, we were hardly asleep when we were awoke by a horrid and continuous hissing, which seemed to come from the hay of our improvised bed. We all started up in terror, the poor frightened children crying loudly. The gentlemen, armed with sticks, beat the hay of the beds about, and scattered it completely. They soon had the pleasant sight of a tolerable-sized snake gliding swiftly from our corner, and making its escape under the door into the clearing, where Herbert found and killed it next morning. We must indeed have been tired to sleep soundly, as we all certainly did, after the beds had been re-arranged.

“The next day Mr. C—— proposed walking to Utterson, to purchase a few necessary articles of food; and Herbert went on to Bracebridge, to look for a clergyman to perform the marriage ceremony between him and Mary. As to waiting for our luggage, and for the elegant bridal attire which had been so carefully packed by loving hands, we all agreed that it would be ridiculous; and dear Mary, like a true heroine, accepted the discomforts of her situation bravely, and, far from uttering a single complaint, made the best of everything.

“Both Mr. C—— and myself had fits of irrepressible vexation at the state of affairs; but as we could in no way help ourselves, we thought it best to be silent, and to hurry on the building of a log-house for ourselves, which we at once did.

“The very day after our arrival, Mary and I undertook the work of housekeeping, taking it by turns day and day about. We found it most fatiguing, the days being so hot and the mosquitoes so tormenting. Moreover, the stove being placed outside, we were exposed to the burning sun every time we went near it, and felt quite ill in consequence.

“When Herbert returned from Bracebridge, he told us that the Church of England clergyman being away at Toronto, he had engaged the services of the Wesleyan minister whose chapel he had sometimes attended, and that gentleman had promised to come as soon as possible, and to bring with him a proper and respectable witness.

“The day of his coming being left uncertain, Mary and I were kept in a continual state of terror and expectation, and at such a time we felt doubly the annoyance of not being able to get from Toronto even the trunks containing our clothes. In vain we tried to renovate our soiled and travel-stained dresses; neither brushing, nor shaking, nor sponging could alter their unmistakably shabby appearance, and it required some philosophy to be contented. It was worse for poor Mary than for any one else; and I felt quite touched when I saw her carefully washing and ironing the lace frill from the neck of her dress, and then arranging it again as nicely as possible.

“Two days passed, and on the afternoon of the third we had put the poor children to sleep, and were lying down ourselves, quite overcome with the heat, when my husband entered hastily to tell us that the Rev. Mr. W—— had arrived to perform the marriage ceremony, and had brought with him as witness a good-natured store-keeper, who had left his business to oblige Herbert, with whom he had had many dealings.

“Herbert, who had dressed himself every day, not to be taken by surprise, was quite ready, and kept them in conversation while Mary and I arranged our hair, washed the children’s faces and hands, and, as well as we could, prepared the room. When all was ready they were summoned, and in making their introductory bows, both our visitors nearly backed themselves into the yawning cavern in the middle of the floor, which, in our trepidation, we had forgotten to point out.

“Very impressively did the good minister perform the marriage service; and at its close he addressed to the young couple a few words of serious and affectionate exhortation, well suited to the occasion.

“He begged them to remember, that living as they were about to do in the lonely forest, far from the public ordinances of religion, they must give the more heed to their religious duties, and to the study of the Word of God, endeavouring to live not for this world only, but for that other world to which young and old were alike hastening.

“Herbert looked his very best on this momentous occasion, and, in spite of all disadvantages of dress and difficulties of position, dear Mary looked most sweet and beautiful, and created, I am sure, quite a fatherly interest in the heart of the good old clergyman, himself the father of a numerous family. We could offer the clergyman and witness no refreshment; and when they were gone, our wedding-feast consisted of a very salt ham-bone, dough dumplings, and milk-and-water.”

So ends Mrs. C——’s narrative, to which I shall append but few observations. All went well from the day of the wedding, and on that day the sun went down on a happy couple. Doubt, anxiety, separation—all these were at an end; and, for weal or woe, John Herbert and Mary Lennox were indissolubly united. Trials and troubles might await them in the future; but for the present, youth, health, hope, and love were beckoning them onward with ineffable smiles.

The luggage soon arrived, and comfortable bedding superseded hay and snakes. Mr. and Mrs. C—— removed as soon as possible into their own log-house, leaving our young couple to the privacy of their home.

Herbert worked early and late to finish his house, and partitioned off a nice chamber for Mary, which was prettily furnished and ornamented with cherished books, and gifts, and keepsakes from dear and distant friends. The wealthier members of Mary’s family sent substantial tokens of goodwill, and many pretty and useful gifts came from the loving sister, who begins to talk of coming out herself.

Mary’s parents, cheered and comforted by the happy and contented tone breathed in her letters, ceased to regret having sanctioned the marriage; and, to crown all, a little son in due time made his appearance, to cement still further the love of his parents and to concentrate a very large portion of it in his own little person.

Here let the curtain drop. From time to time I may have had misgivings, but have long been fully satisfied that a blessing has rested on my well-meant endeavours to secure the happiness of two young and loving hearts.

ANECDOTES OF THE CANADIAN BUSH,
THIRTY YEARS AGO.

TOLD ME BY THE WIFE OF AN OLD SETTLER.