JANUARY. 13 



where she was engaged with her household duties ; so that it waa 

 Hke an old acquaintance, this said Geranium, in its green-painted 

 tub. Its owner had been repeatedly told " it would die" on the 

 voyage. " Never mind, then ; let it die, so long as it dies with me," 

 was her reply, as she fastened it up in a corner of the rude deck on 

 which these poor emigrants were to live for seven long weeks. And 

 so, with a strong breeze and a flowing sheet, we left the harbour 

 together. 



The fair wind with which we sailed soon shifted into an adverse 

 quarter, and off the coast of Scotland (for we were going north 

 about), it became a dead noser, with all the usual amount of mise- 

 ries. To a set of poor country folk, what can exceed the miseries 

 of the temporary lower deck of a collier converted into an emigrant 

 ship, — hatches battened down to keep oat the washing seas or heavy 

 rain, foul air, sea-sickness } Miseries indeed ! The word as under- 

 stood when applied to felons in gaol, or paupers in a workhouse 

 ashore, conveys no conception of the wretchedness in question. 



It was soon found of no use to contend with the violence of the 

 elements ; so, when things were at the worst, the captain ordered the 

 helm to be put up, and we made a fair wind of it by running to the 

 south. 



As soon as the ship was fairly before the wind, the hatches were 

 unbattened, light and air were admitted, and an attempt was made 

 to get things snug. As a sailor-boy, part of this pleasing duty fell 

 to my lot ; and well do I remember the thoughts of my comfortable 

 home which were awakened when, amidst the desperate confusion of 

 that lower deck, the old Geranium caught my eye. It had flowers 

 on when it came on board ; they had soon fallen off; day by day it 

 sickened and languished ; the colour went little by little out of its 

 leaves ; then they dropped off altogether, and were succeeded by 

 smaller and feebler ones, till at last all appearance of life had entirely 

 vanished. Still it was kept. It had flourished for years in the cot- 

 tage-window of its owners, which looked out upon pleasant green 

 fields. That cottage and those fields, now tenanted and tilled by 

 others, still lived in their recollection, and were associated, no doubt, 

 with the plant in question. And so it went with us ; crossed the 

 wild dark ocean, accompanied us up the St. Lawrence, and there we 

 parted, for it went ashore with its owners. Yet I saw it once again ; 

 for being on shore upon some duty, I went upon Goudie's Wharf, 

 where I found a family group sitting upon their effects preparatory 

 to embarkation up the river in a steam-boat. They were part of our 

 emigrant passengers. And standing by the side of their bedding and 

 boxes was my old acquaintance, the Scarlet Geranium — dead, dead, 

 looking as hopeless and miserable as the unhappy exiles themselves. 

 But if, as I have little doubt, they have long ere this made for them- 

 selves a happy and independent home in the western solitudes, it 

 may be hoped that with the Scarlet Geranium they tlid not lose the 

 last link which bound their affections to their fatherland. 



