ABOUT the middle of July 1844, I found myself suddenly obliged to embark from Chatham, for Canada, on board an uncomfortable ship, a very unwilling passenger. In a middle-aged man, of quiet bachelor habits, such a voyage to a strange country, at a few hours' notice, was a most disagreeable necessity. I soon, however, made up my mind and my packages, and, before the afternoon was much advanced, started from London.

It was dark when I arrived at Chatham, and went on board; there was a whistling wind and a drizzling rain; the decks between the heaps of luggage and merchandize, were wet, dirty, and

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slippery; and reflected dismally the light of the consumptive-looking lamps, carried about by the condemned spirits of this floating purgatory. There was evidently a great number of passengers on board, of all sorts and conditions of men and women. Perched on a pile of baggage, were a number of soldiers, going out with their wives, hard-favoured, and poorly and insufficiently clad, to join their regiments in Canada: despite, however, the coarse and travel-worn dress and rude appearance of the poor women, I saw in them during the voyage many traits of good and tender feeling; the most anxious care of their little ones, whom they were rearing so fondly to their doom of poverty and toil; their kindness to each other, and the sharing of their scanty covering and scantier meals: the wretched can feel for the wretched, the poor are rich in the heart to give.

My cabin had lately been repaired, and looked. very miserable; the seams of the deck were filled with new pitch, which stuck pertinaciously to my boots. The den had evidently just been washed, and was still damp enough to charm a hydropathist; the port-hole window was open to air it. Threats, bribes, and entreaties, in course of time