We were not allowed to remain long in this paradise of sailors, being ordered suddenly to Quebec.  I ran round to say adieu to all my dear Arcadian friends.  A tearful eye, a lock of hair, a hearty shake of a fair hand, were all the spoils with which I was loaded when I quitted the shore, and I cast many a longing, lingering look behind, as the ship glided out of the harbour; white handkerchiefs were waved from the beach, and many a silent prayer put up for our safe return from snowy bosoms and from aching hearts.  I dispensed my usual quantum of vows of eternal love and fidelity before I left them, and my departure was marked in the calendar of Halifax as a black day, by at least seven or eight pairs of blue eyes.

We had not been long at sea before we spoke an Irish Guineaman from Belfast, loaded with emigrants for the United States:  I think about seventeen families.  These were contraband.  Our captain had some twenty thousand acres on the island of St John’s, or Prince Edward’s, as it is now called, a grant to some of his ancestors, which had been bequeathed to him, and from which he had never received one shilling of rent, for the very best reason in the world, because there were no tenants to cultivate the soil.  It occurred to our noble captain, that this was the very sort of cargo he wanted, and that these Irish people would make good clearers of his land, and improve his estate.  He made the proposal to them, and as they saw no chance of getting to the United States, and provided they could procure nourishment for their families, it was a matter of indifference to them where they colonised, the proposal was accepted, and the captain obtained permission of the admiral to accompany them to the island, to see them housed and settled.  Indeed, nothing could have been more advantageous for all parties; they increased the scanty population of our own colony, instead of adding to the number of our enemies.  We sailed again from Halifax a few hours after we had obtained the sanction of the admiral, and, passing through the beautiful passage between Nova Scotia and the island of Cape Breton, known by the name of the Gut of Canso, we soon reached Prince Edward’s Island.

We anchored in a small harbour near the estate, on which we found a man residing with his wife and family; this fellow called himself the steward, and from all I could see of him during our three weeks’ stay, he appeared to me to be rascal enough for the stewardship of any nobleman’s estate in England.  The captain landed, and took me as his aide-de-camp.  A bed was prepared for his lordship in the steward’s house, but he preferred sleeping on clean hay in the barn.  This noble lord was a man whose thoughts seldom gave much labour to his tongue; he always preferred hearing others to talking himself; and whoever was his companion, he must always be at the expense of the conversation.  Nor was it by the usual mode of simple narrative, that his mind was completely