there could be a town with unpaved streets and no sidewalks.  Mr Kerr, on his way to his boarding-house, showed me the shop where he was to begin work next morning.  While we were in his bedroom a gong sounded for supper.  It was all new to me, the people, their talk, and the food.  I wondered to see meat and potatoes for supper, hot buns, and apple-pies.  After supper we had a walk, and in going along one of the streets there was a man before us carrying a baby.  Raising her head above his shoulder the child looked at us and said something to him.  Without reflecting, I wondered how a child could have learned French so early in life.  On turning back to the ship Mr Kerr took me into a shop and bought me a cap, and I had need of one.  On coming in front of the ship, he shook my hands as if he did not want to let me go, and made me promise I would write him and tell where we had settled.  For himself, he would stay in Montreal at least long enough to get his belongings by ship from Greenock.

The captain having given notice that everybody must leave the ship next day, there was early bustling in finishing packing and arranging for the next stage in our journey, which was to be by a Durham boat to Prescott.  Carts were on hand to haul our luggage to the canal, where lay the boat that had been hired for our party.  A carter hoisted a chest on his little vehicle and hurriedly drove off.  Instead of taking the direction of the other carts, he went straight up the dump that led into the town.  I shouted to him to stop.  He laid his whip on the horse and drove faster.  It flashed on me he was a thief, and I ran after him.  I could never have caught up to him had it not been market day and the street was crowded with people and carts.  I jumped up beside him and pulled at his collar to make him stop.  He tried to push me on to the road, but I clung to him, when he lashed me with the whip.  I shouted for help, but all being French they did not know what I said, but they saw something was wrong and with many exclamations the crowd stood staring at us.  Just then a little, stout man, in a black gown, elbowed his way through the crowd, and asked me in English what was the matter.  I told him the carter had stolen the chest.  He spoke to the carter in French.  ’The man denies it,’ said the priest, for such I now guessed he was.  I hurriedly narrated what had happened, and for proof pointed to the name painted on the chest.  Speaking with severity to the carter, the fellow turned his horse towards the river and the priest told me he would take the chest back to where he got it.  ‘But he may not do so,’ I exclaimed.  The priest gave me a sharp look, as if surprised that I should be ignorant of his power.  ‘He dare not disobey me.’  I thanked the priest from the bottom of my heart, and in a few minutes the carter had dumped the chest on the spot where he had taken it and drove away.  On telling the mate what had happened, he said it was common for emigrants, both at Quebec and Montreal, to be robbed by fellows who regarded them as fair game.