SOUTH AMERICA. 
245 
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 recom¬ 
mended it to get ashore by the first opportunity. 
When we had seen all that was worth seeing in 
Quebec and at the falls of Montmorency, and had 
been on board the enormous ship Columbus, we re¬ 
turned for a day or two to Montreal, and then pro¬ 
ceeded to Saratoga by 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 
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 u 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 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 flow. Probably the scenery on the 
FOURTH 
JOURNEY. 
Irish 
emigrants 
