the melancholy satisfaction of beholding her resting-place.  Mr. Ainslie’s domestic affections were very strong, and to him the blow was terrible.  He now deeply regretted removing his family from their Scottish home, entertaining the idea, that had they not undertaken this journey their child might have been spared; and he wrote bitter things against himself for the step he had taken.  Deep as was the mother’s grief, she was forced to place a restraint upon it that she might comfort her almost heart-broken husband.  Upon one occasion, in reply to some of his self upbraidings, she said, “I think, Robert, you’re ow’re hard on yoursel’ now, when ye tak the blame o’ puir Susie’s death; ye surely canna think itherwise than the dear bairn’s time had come; an’ had we bided at hame it would ha’ been a’ the same; for we dinna leeve an’ dee by chance, and the bounds o’ our lives are set by Him who kens a’ things.”  These consoling words from his sympathising wife tended to lighten, in some measure, the burden of sorrow which oppressed his heart.  The weather during the latter part of their voyage was stormy and uncomfortable, and they were truly glad when they at length reached the Canadian port.  At the city of Montreal they parted with all those who had been their fellow passengers, as all except themselves were bound for the Upper Province, while they intended joining their friends in Lower Canada.

In the days of which I am speaking the emigrant’s journey from the city of Montreal to the townships was toilsome in the extreme; and the same journey, which is now accomplished in a few hours by railway, was then the work of several days; and the only mode of conveyance for themselves and their luggage, were the horse-carts hired for the occasion.  But their fatiguing journey was at length terminated; and they arrived safely at the bush settlement in R., where the friends of Mrs. Ainslie resided.  That now thriving and prosperous settlement was then in its infancy, and possessed but few external attractions to the new comer; for at the period when Mrs. Ainslie’s parents settled there it was an unbroken wilderness.  It is needless for me to add that the wayworn travellers met with a joyous welcome from the friends who had been long anxiously looking for their arrival.  Mr. and Mrs. Miller were overjoyed to meet again their daughter from whom they had been so long separated by the deep roll of the ocean; and almost their first enquiry was for the “wee lassie,” who when they left Scotland was less than a twelve month old.  Mr. Ainslie was unable to reply, and looked toward his wife as if beseeching her to answer to their enquiry.  She understood the mute appeal, and composing herself by a strong effort said:  “My dear father an’ mither, a great grief has o’erta’en us sin’ we left hame’, an’ our hearts are well-nigh broken; we buried wee Susie in the caul waters o’ the ocean.”  She endeavoured to relate to them the particulars of the child’s death; but her feelings overcame