they ocht to hae the decency to paint them.’  On nearing the landing-place at the foot of the rapids, Allan pointed to a group of people and told her they were Yankees.  She shook her head, she did not believe him, they were too like our ain folk to be Yankees.  The Soo is the longest rapid of the St Lawrence measuring nine miles, but is not nearly so wild as those we had passed, having fewer waves and intervals of smooth water.  There was no canal to help in getting to the head of it, and it was beyond the strength of our crew to push the boat up with setting-poles.  There was a towpath along the U.S. bank on which stood three yoke of oxen.  A stout cable was hooked to their whiffle-tree and they started.  On getting fairly into the strength of the current the crew dropped their poles into the water, and it was all men and oxen, strained to the utmost, could do at times to stem the sweep of the mighty tide.  It was slow work but we won to smoother water and the boat tied up for the night.  It was hot when we entered lake St Francis, it was sultry now.  Alongside us was a Durham boat like ours, but longer.  It was packed worse than our own, men, women, and children huddled as close as captives on a slaveship, and like ourselves worn out with fatigue and facing the thunderstorm that we heard coming without covering of any kind.  The quiet determination to endure much in the belief that we were coming to a country where we would better our condition sustained all in doing our best to make light of our trials.  To a young woman, who was trying to get a fretful baby to sleep, the mistress sent me with a tin of milk and we had some talk.  I asked if she was not sorry she had left the Old Land.  ‘No, no,’ she replied, ’we had no prospect there; here, with hard work we have the prospect of comfort and of depending on nobody for work or help.’  She kissed her babe and speaking to him said, ’Yes, Willie, you will never know in this country what your mother came through.’  It was this hope that sustained us all.  There was only a small house in sight and the near bush was scrub, so we did not ask to go on shore and had to wait, patiently, for the heat and mosquitoes kept us awake.  The storm did not last long, but wetted all to the skin who could not creep under the decked parts of the boat.  It brought great relief in freshening the air.  The boatmen were astir before daylight, hoisting the sails, for the wind had turned to the north, as it often does after a thunderstorm.  There were places, where the current ran so fast that setting-poles had to be used, but we got on well, and, by-and-by, sighted two towns—­Ogdensburg and Prescott, the one bright and tidy, the other with a weather-beaten uninviting look.  We rejoiced to see a small steamboat at the Prescott wharf.  It was waiting for the stage from Montreal.  A bargain was made to take our party to Kingston.  On the boat we had met at the Soo coming in, she had too many emigrants for the steamer to take on board,