advantage, for what we lose in amusement and variety we assuredly gain
in comfort. The cabin is neatly fitted up, and I enjoy the luxury (for
such it is, compared with the narrow berths of the state cabin) of a
handsome sofa, with crimson draperies, in the great cabin. The state
cabin is also ours. We paid fifteen pounds each for our passage to
Montreal. This was high, but it includes every expense; and, in fact, we
had no choice. The only vessel in the river bound for Canada, was a
passenger-ship, literally swarming with emigrants, chiefly of the lower
class of Highlanders.

The only passengers besides ourselves in the _Laurel_ are the captain's
nephew, a pretty yellow-haired lad, about fifteen years of age, who
works his passage out, and a young gentleman who is going out as clerk
in a merchant's house in Quebec. He seems too much wrapped up in his own
affairs to be very communicative to others; he walks much, talks little,
and reads less, but often amuses himself by singing as he paces the
deck, "Home, sweet home," and that delightful song by Camoens, "Isle of
beauty." It is a sweet song, and I can easily imagine the charm it has
for a home-sick heart.

I was much pleased with the scenery of the Clyde; the day we set sail
was a lovely one, and I remained on deck till nightfall. The morning
light found our vessel dashing gallantly along, with a favourable
breeze, through the north channel; that day we saw the last of the
Hebrides, and before night lost sight of the north coast of Ireland. A
wide expanse of water and sky is now our only prospect, unvaried by any
object save the distant and scarcely to be traced outline of some vessel
just seen at the verge of the horizon, a speck in the immensity of
space, or sometimes a few sea-fowl. I love to watch these wanderers of
the ocean, as they rise and fal with the rocking billows, or flit about