When I left Guelph, I had arranged with my wife that as soon as I could get the new house ready, I would send for her.  I did not think that this could possibly be done before sleighing-time, as the newly-cut road was almost impassable for waggons.  Judge, then, of my surprise when, on returning home from the store-house one day, I noticed the door of my log-cabin open, and saw a lovely curly-headed child sitting in the doorway.  I could hardly believe my eyes—­it was my own little Maria.  My dear little boy had remained at Douro with my wife’s sister Eliza, of whom he was so fond that my wife did not like to separate such friends from each other.  On my entrance I found my wife surrounded by a pile of luggage, laughing heartily at my astonishment.

She told me, she felt so lonely that she determined to brave all the dangers of the road in order to join me.  Accordingly, she hired a settler who was the owner of a waggon and a yoke of oxen, which she loaded with the most useful articles we required—­bedding and bed-clothes, &c.,—­reserving room in the waggon for herself, the child, and nursemaid.

During the whole of the first day’s journey and part of the next, all went on smoothly enough, their route lying through settlements; but as soon as they entered the newly-cut road their difficulties commenced, and before they had traversed five miles, the waggon was twice upset.  This so alarmed my poor wife, on account of the baby; that she durst not ride another step of the way, although the travellers had still upwards of sixty miles to go.  Moreover, she was obliged to carry the child the entire distance; for their teamster had enough to do to look after and guide his cattle, and the servant girl was too young and too tired to render much assistance.

Fifteen miles a day was the outside distance they could persuade the oxen to travel, consequently, they were compelled to camp out two nights out of the six in which they were on the road.  Luckily, the weather was dry and warm.  At night the musquitoes were dreadfully annoying, as my poor little Maria’s neck and arms too plainly showed.

During the afternoon of the second day, when within six miles of Trifogle’s tavern, their intended resting-place for the night, they were overtaken by a man who was going in the same direction, who very politely—­as my wife thought—­offered to carry her baby part of the way.  She was, of course, very glad to avail herself of his kind offer; nor did she perceive, till after he had got possession of the bairn, that he was intoxicated.  She immediately demanded back her little treasure, but no inducement could persuade him to relinquish it, and he set off with the infant as fast as he could.  In vain the poor mother besought him to stop—­in vain she sobbed and cried.  On he went, followed by my Mary, who found great difficulty in keeping up with him, which she did at first, till, at length, exhausted by the unusual fatigue, maternal anxiety, and the roughness of the road, she lost sight of him when about a mile from the tavern.  He had walked off with his little burden.