The 16th of October, my third son was born; and a few days after, my husband was appointed pay-master to the militia regiments in the V. District, with the rank and full pay of captain.

This was Sir George Arthur’s doing.  He returned no answer to my application, but he did not forget us.

As the time that Moodie might retain this situation was very doubtful, he thought it advisable not to remove me and the family until he could secure some permanent situation; by so doing, he would have a better opportunity of saving the greater part of his income to pay off his old debts.

This winter of 1839 was one of severe trial to me.  Hitherto I had enjoyed the blessing of health; but both the children and myself were now doomed to suffer from dangerous attacks of illness.  All the little things had malignant scarlet fever, and for several days I thought it would please the Almighty to take from me my two girls.  This fever is so fatal to children in Canada that none of my neighbors dared approach the house.  For three weeks Jenny and I were never undressed; our whole time was taken up nursing the five little helpless creatures through the successive states of their alarming disease.  I sent for Dr. Taylor; but he did not come, and I was obliged to trust to the mercy of God, and my own judgment and good nursing.  Though I escaped the fever, mental anxiety and fatigue brought on other illness, which for nearly ten weeks rendered me perfectly helpless.  When I was again able to creep from my sick bed, the baby was seized with an illness, which Dr. B—–­ pronounced mortal.  Against all hope, he recovered, but these severe mental trials rendered me weak and nervous, and more anxious than ever to be re-united to my husband.  To add to these troubles, my sister and her husband sold their farm, and removed from our neighbourhood.  Mr. —–­ had returned to England, and had obtained a situation in the Customs; and his wife, my friend Emilia, was keeping a school in the village; so that I felt more solitary than ever, thus deprived of so many kind, sympathising friends.

A SONG OF PRAISE TO THE CREATOR

  Oh, thou great God! from whose eternal throne
    Unbounded blessings in rich bounty flow,
  Like thy bright sun in glorious state alone,
    Thou reign’st supreme, while round thee as they go,
  Unnumber’d worlds, submissive to thy sway,
  With solemn pace pursue their silent way.

  Benignant God! o’er every smiling land. 
    Thy handmaid, Nature, meekly walks abroad,
  Scattering thy bounties with unsparing hand,
    While flowers and fruits spring up along her road. 
  How can thy creatures their weak voices raise
  To tell thy deeds in their faint songs of praise?

  When, darkling o’er the mountain’s summit hoar,
    Portentous hangs the black and sulph’rous cloud,
  When lightnings flash, and awful thunders roar,
    Great Nature sings to thee her anthem loud. 
  The rocks reverberate her mighty song,
  And crushing woods the pealing notes prolong.