Perhaps many of my readers may think that I have thrown in the statements of Charles Holstrom as a sort of burlesque upon Canada. Such is not the case on my part. I have given expression to nothing more than the opinion held by too many persons throughout Great Britain respecting this country. Indeed, there are hundreds in England alone, who are not aware of the existence of such a place; and thousands there are who know of nothing authentic concerning Canada except the name. I speak not from hearsay alone; I can personally substantiate these facts.

Since the Confederation of these Provinces in 1867, Canada has become better known in England through the means of lecturers and emigration-agents sent thither by the Dominion Government. But, in some cases, men have been appointed as lecturers who were not really possessed of any personal experience and practical knowledge of Canada beyond the limits of the city or town in which they had lived. Such men, in order to make the country and themselves popular, drew highly colored pictures of the New Dominion, extolling its inexhaustible physical resources, its mercantile and manufacturing advantages, its railway and river facilities, its millions of acres of new land in the shape of farms to be given away gratis to all who agreed to become settlers,—together with a thousand of other attractions, augmented 100 per cent. Such lectures were generally delivered in manufacturing towns and the great centres of population. There is always in every audience a number whose minds are rendered pliable by the speaker's tongue, particularly if their own interests are involved.

Such was generally the case at these lectures. Clerks, young professionals, and mechanics, including silk and carpet spinners and weavers would become thus unhinged from their long accustomed stand-post, and perchance, for the first time, begin to prospect their future beyond the limits of their own town, at the same time wondering what on earth had induced them to live fools so long. By these means a vast number of Englishmen during the past few years, have been persuaded to emigrate to Canada. The hardier class, comparatively few in number, flocked into the agricultural and forest districts, to hew out a home for themselves; while the more sensitive struck a bee-line to the cities, to procure easy and genteel employment at excellent wages. But in so doing the hopes of many were suddenly frustrated. Shops and counting-houses were literally crammed with employees; in fact, every genteel situation had its quota. Silk-lace and carpet weaving had scarcely a nominal existence. Every town, village, and city had more professional men than could get a comfortable livelihood. The characteristics of the country and its people appeared to them extremely coarse and terribly 'orrifying'. Wages, they said, were no better than those in England. Many who could have got employment preferred travelling the country over in search of higher wages. Some, however, went manfully to work at once. Others preferred boarding at a hotel, living idle upon their stock of funds, waiting patiently for something upon the wheel of fortune to turn up profitably to their own interests, and every morning eagerly peering over the "want advertisements" of the Globe and Witness, perhaps for months, until their means became considerably exhausted; and eventually taking a hurried departure to the States, or perchance returning home, utterly disgusted with Canada and everything connected with it, and carrying in their minds pictures of the country delineated in the darkest colors.

We now return to our story. Frederick on his return from Tiverton went immediately to see Clara and the child. When he had made known his design she felt awfully chagrined at the idea of his intended "foolish adventure," as she termed it, and also sadly disappointed when she discovered that all those airy fabrications she had been building up during the winter were beginning to fall.

"Why, Frederick, what do you really mean by all this?" she exclaimed. "Do you intend leaving me unmarried and unprovided for, with my child, to fret out a lonely, miserable existence in your absence?"

"Oh! I shall return in a few months to take you and the child to a happy home in Canada."

"Ah, Frederick; why again tantalize me with your promises, and false prospects. Where, I ask you, is the happy home you promised me at Tiverton? Where is the matrimonial title you promised to honor me with? Ah! Fred! Consider for a moment, what you have done and what you are now doing. By your insinuating love you riveted my affection to your heart. It still continues unbroken and as tenacious as ever. You flattered me with honied words. You excited me with false hopes. My confidence, yea, my very self I rendered submissively to your honor. But, alas! the very prospects you reared for my delight you are now trampling beneath your feet. Am I to be left with my little child, to struggle alone against the adversities of this world, while the finger of scorn is directed toward me, and also toward my child, whose innocence will neither soften the harshness of the world's tongue nor justify the errors of those who gave to it an existence."

"Why, Clara," exclaimed Fred somewhat irritated, "you are really sarcastic and condemnatory in your remarks. Is this the sort of complimentary welcome I receive from you at my return? If so, I shall have to shorten my visit."

"Well, Fred, consider the matter judiciously, and you will not think me unreasonable in my accusations," replied Clara.

"Pooh, pooh," retorted Fred, "never allow your imagination to soar higher than your reason; curb down the irritable nerves of your temper; turn the dark side of life's picture towards the past, and keep always the bright side uppermost."

"It is easier said than done," she replied. "Had you rendered me the assistance in reality instead of broken promises, I might have been looking to-day upon the bright side of life."

"For goodness sake, Clara, do not tantalize me so unmercifully. I tell you that I have decided upon going to Canada, and I shall go. That country offers advantages unknown to England. Better hazard an adventure than remain forever riveted to hard labor here, and then die at last in the harness. Were I to marry you now I have no home but my father's to which I could remove you; better then to remain where you are, unmarried, than otherwise, for, I feel certain that Collins would turn you out as soon as he had discovered that I had both married and left you. But let me tell you but once and forever that I intend to become a husband to you as soon as I can find it convenient to procure a comfortable home."

"The old story again," ejaculated Clara, "and let me tell you, Fred, that if you go to Canada you will never make your circumstances convenient to fulfil your promise—no, never, never, Fred."

"I don't want to hear any more of such botheration," retorted Fred, irritably; and springing up from his seat, made his exit abruptly, leaving Clara to sigh out alone the sorrows of her heart in the solitude of her own reflections.

Mr. Collins, as I said before was a man possessed of a degraded nature, being much addicted to intemperance. Widow Hazledon had married him after a brief acquaintance. She had felt the necessity of a fatherly assistance and protection in the rearing of her young family; but in Collins she discovered when too late that she had mistaken his character. She, however, continued to make the best of a bad bargain. He was a carver by trade, and commanded good wages; but every Saturday night, he got drunk. His Sabbaths were generally devoted to the worship of Bacchus. Sometimes he would continue drinking for several days, until every penny was exhausted. Then he would make demands at home for more money, which if refused, he was sure to abuse his wife and family. He was not only a drunkard; he was a scoffer at religion, and considered it a mark of honor to take the name of God in vain.

On the following day after Frederick's interview with Clara, Collins came home partly intoxicated, and demanded more money to help him, as he said, to finish off a spree with an old comrade whom he had not seen for several years. Mrs. Collins expostulated with him, but to no purpose. He became, at length, exasperated, and threatened to turn them all out upon the street, and burn the house down. Clara attempted to pacify him, which only made him the more outrageous. He swore every oath imaginable at her, insolently ordering her to be off with her child, and find lodgings with the villain to whom she had prostituted herself, or else he would soon pitch her and her little bratling into the Thames.

"Here, Tom, take this, 'tis the last shilling I have in the house. Now, dear Tom, like a good husband, keep quiet, and don't abuse Clara and me so much as you do," said Mrs. Collins with a pitiable sort of tone, the tears trickling down her grief furrowed cheeks.

"Well, Annie, but you're a good sort of wife after all," replied Collins, in a somewhat subdued tone. "As for Clara, I like her well enough! but I have resolved that I shall not labor any longer to support the child of that blackguard of a fellow, who, as I have been informed, has absconded to Canada. I hate him, and I detest his child—the dirty, yelping thing that it is. If it is not instantly removed from here, I shall make short work of it to-night on my return. Mark my words, Clara," he emphatically added, and putting the shilling into his pocket he departed, leaving them to consider seriously over the matter.

As soon as he had gone Clara and her mother began talking over the affair, premeditating what they should do with the child. They felt suspicious of the threats made by Collins, who, it appears, for several weeks past, had used somewhat coarse language to Clara, especially since he had discovered that there was no immediate prospect of her removal.

While thus suggesting what was best to be done a rap was heard upon the door; and in the course of a few seconds Mrs. Charlston and her two eldest daughters entered. They had come on a visit to spend the afternoon and have a friendly conversation; but their object was more particularly to find out if Frederick had made known to Clara what his intentions really were, as he had given them no decided answer at home. Mrs. Collins and Clara were delighted to see them, but more especially on that occasion, as it afforded a sort of relief to their dejected hearts, and perhaps be the means of suggesting the best expedient for the adjustment of their condition under the present circumstances. Tea was being prepared, and a pleasant conversation was entered into. After having digested Fred's Canadian-bubble-scheme, as Mrs. Charlston termed it, the unhappy affair that had occured was made known by Mrs. Collins. She expressed herself, that she did not really know what to do with the child, as Collins would most assuredly put his threat into execution.

"Oh! that's easily settled," exclaimed Mrs. Charlston. "The child is now nearly eight months old; it is time it was weaned—so it will serve both purposes to send it up to our house. I assure you I will be happy to take it into my charge; and Clara can come to see it as often as she can find it convenient."

"Oh, yes, ma,—that is delightful," exclaimed Eliza.

"Yes, ma, we'll take the dear little darling along with us," said Amelia, embracing the infant more lovingly, and imprinting a kiss tenderly upon its smiling lips.

"O, but, perhaps, it will be too much trouble and inconvenience for you," said Clara.

"Not in the least, I'm sure Mr. Charlston will be perfectly delighted with the child," replied Mrs. Charlston.

"It will, perhaps, put him in remembrance of old times," said Mrs. Collins.

"Yes, and perhaps make him conceited enough to fancy himself twenty years younger than he really is," added Mrs. Charlston.

"O, yes, I'm sure pa will be infinitely happy," exclaimed Eliza.

"Yes, and so will Fred," added Amelia with a sly wink.

It was, therefore, agreed upon that little Richard, for so he was named, should go to his new home that very evening. Tea being over, he was dressed in his best clothes. A couple of carpet bags were filled with other necessary articles. All things being in readiness Mrs. Charlston and her daughters took their departure, accompanied with Clara and the child.

When they arrived home Mr. Charlston and the others of his family were at tea, Mrs. C. entered carrying Richard in her arms, followed by the others.

"Look here, old lad, and guess what I have got, as a present for my good behavior this afternoon," exclaimed Mrs. Charlston.

"Only a baby," said Mr. C. "You seem as much excited as if you had found a purse of gold."

"Just look at the sweet, little, silvery-mouthed hazle-eyed, rosy-cheeked cherub," said Mrs. C.

"'Tis little Richard, I declare," shouted Charlotte, springing forth to see him. "What a sweet little fellow he is. Just come, pa, and see the little darling." "O, Fred come and see him, he is your very picture, what a dear lovely angel he is," &c.

After the excitement had abated, they all removed to the sitting-room. Every one had to kiss and fondle little Richard; and even Frederick, whose heart had become softened by the touch of tender humanity, took the child into his arms, and with a parent's affection bestowed a dozen of fond kisses upon its ruby lips, feeling at the same time as if he could have similarly complimented Clara, as an expression of his affection, and a recompense for the abrupt manner in which he had treated her at their previous interview. Mrs. Charlston then told them that Richard had come to stay with them until he was weaned. Mr. Charlston felt apparently well pleased with the idea; it seemed to him as a happy acquisition to his household.

Clara at length prepared herself to depart, and before leaving bestowed a dozen of fond kisses on the dear little fellow, and with a lingering look bade them all good night, promising to return on the following evening.

Frederick put on his hat and quietly followed her to the door, and in a sort of undertone interrogated, "May I have the pleasure of seeing you home to-night, Clara?"

"If you please," she replied. Fred very courteously complied therewith. The character of their conversation on the way that night may be guessed from the fact, that Fred and Clara became more lovingly attached to each other than ever they had been.

Next day Fred hurried away to the house of his old master; and on the following morning was at his former place as a journeyman and an associate of his old companion and fellow-workman, Charles Holstrom. Clara also found immediate employment. The Charlstons were once more rendered happy at seeing Fred so spirited and reconciled; and also the presence of little Richard gave a relish to their happiness.

Even old Collins was so well pleased with the change of affairs in his own household that he gave expression to his joyous feelings by getting pleasantly drunk every day for a whole week.

The beautiful days of summer glided smoothly along. The nights were calm and refreshing. Under the exhilarating rays of the evening moonlight, Fred and Clara frequently strolled out pleasantly together. Feelings were reciprocated. Ideas of future prospects towered higher than the moon. A happy home, brightened by the golden beams of the honeymoon was seen peeping through the sylvan avenues of imagination. A few months, perchance only a few weeks had only to pass by, and their souls were to be pressed so closely together by the legal stamp of matrimony that nothing but the chisel of death could be able to separate them.

What a delightful picture of future life is often sketched by the artistic fancy of the soul. What beautiful delineations of all that is exquisitely pleasing and profitable! The scenes are of the grandest descriptions: the coloring, of the richest hues, admirably shaded and intermingled. Even the darkest spots are glistening by the surrounding beauty. All appears as an enchanted dream; a glimpse of fairyland, or as a primeval paradise modernized, and rendered suitable in every part to gratify the desires of the mind.

But, alas! too frequently these prospects of ideality are built only upon corner pillars, and tower to so great an altitude above their slender bases, that their summits, like the top of Babel become mystified by the clouds; and when the first storm of adversity, or the breath of insidious circumstances are blown against them, they totter, and eventually fall crashing to the earth, and lie scattered in shapeless ruins around their basis.

But, perhaps, it is cruel to predict, or even to suggest, such ruinous consequences to the moonlit dreams of that happy pair. Time alone can unfold the mysterious realities of life. I will, therefore, pursue the windings of their course, and note down the various incidents and events as they are struck out, like the sparks from the heated iron under the blacksmith's hammer.