WANDERINGS IN SOUTH AMERICA. 297 



steam-boat, I felt something crossing over my neck ; and 

 on laying hold of it with my finger and thumb, it turned 

 out to be a little half-grown, ill-conditioned bug. Now, 

 whether it were going from the American to the Canada 

 side, or from the Canada to the American, and had taken 

 the advantage of my shoulders to ferry itself across, I 

 could not tell. Be this as it may, I thought of my uncle 

 Toby and the fly ; and so, in lieu of placing it upon the 

 deck, and then putting my thumb-nail vertically upon it, 

 I quietly chucked it amongst some baggage that was 

 close by, and recommended it to get ashore by the first 

 opportunity. 



AVhen we had seen all that was worth seeing in Quebec 

 and at the falls of Montmorency, and had been on board 

 the enormous ship Columhus, we returned for a day or two 

 to Montreal, and then proceeded to Saratoga hy Lakes 

 Champlain and George. 



The steam-boat from Quebec to Montreal had above five 

 hundred Irish emigrants on board. They were going 

 " they hardly knew whither," far away from dear Ireland. 

 It made one's heart 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 accommodation 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 

 " tliey were so full of wretchedness. Need and oppression 

 stared in their eyes. Upon their backs hung ragged 

 misery. The world was not their friend." Poor dear Ire- 

 land, exclaimed an aged female, as I was talking to her, I 

 shall never see it any more ! and then her tears began to 



