WANDERINGS IN 



FOURTH f ar away from dear Ireland. It made one's heart 



JOURNEY. 



ache to see them all huddled together, without 



any expectation of ever revisiting their native 

 soil. We feared that the sorrow of leaving home 

 for ever, the miserable accommodations on board 

 the ship which had brought them away, and the 

 tossing of the angry ocean, in a long and dreary 

 voyage, would have rendered them callous to 

 good behaviour. But it was quite otherwise. 

 They conducted themselves with great propriety. 

 Every American on board seemed to feel for them. 

 And then " they were so full of wretchedness. 

 Need and oppression starved in their eyes. 

 Upon their backs hung ragged misery. The 

 world was not their friend." Poor dear Ireland, 

 exclaimed an aged female, as I was talking to 

 her, I shall never see it any more ! and then her 

 tears began to flow. Probably the scenery on the 

 banks of the St. Lawrence recalled to her mind 

 the remembrance of spots once interesting to her : 



" The lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears, 

 The fond companion of her father's years, 

 Here silent stood, neglectful of her charms, 

 And left her lover's for her father's arms. 

 With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes, 

 And blessed the cot where every pleasure rose ; 

 And pressed her thoughtless babes, with many a tear, 

 And clasped them close, in sorrow doubly dear. 

 While the fond husband strove to lend relief, 

 In all the silent manliness of grief." 



We went a few miles out of our route to take 

 a look at the once formidable fortress of Ticon- 



