She brought her own baby-boy with her, and an ample supply of buffalo robes, not forgetting a treat of baker’s bread, and “sweeties” for the children.  Oh, dear Emilia! best and kindest of women, though absent in your native land, long, long shall my heart cherish with affectionate gratitude all your visits of love, and turn to you as to a sister, tried, and found most faithful, in the dark hour of adversity, and, amidst the almost total neglect of those from whom nature claimed a tenderer and holier sympathy.

Great was the joy of Jenny at this accession to our family party; and after Mrs. S—–­ was well warmed, and had partaken of tea—­the only refreshment we could offer her—­we began to talk over the news of the place.

“By-the-bye, Jenny,” said she, turning to the old servant, who was undressing the little boy by the fire, “have you heard lately from poor Mrs. N—–?  We have been told that she and the family are in a dreadful state of destitution.  That worthless man has left them for the States, and it is supposed that he has joined Mackenzie’s band of ruffians on Navy Island; but whether this be true or false, he has deserted his wife and children, taking his eldest son along with him (who might have been of some service at home), and leaving them without money or food.”

“The good Lord!  What will become of the crathurs?” responded Jenny, wiping her wrinkled cheek with the back of her hard, brown hand.  “An’ thin they have not a sowl to chop and draw them firewood; an’ the weather so oncommon savare.  Och, hone! what has not that baste of a man to answer for?”

“I heard,” continued Mrs. S—–­, “that they have tasted no food but potatoes for the last nine months, and scarcely enough of them to keep soul and body together; that they have sold their last cow; and the poor young lady and her second brother, a lad of only twelve years old, bring all the wood for the fire from the bush on a hand sleigh.”

“Oh, dear!—­oh, dear!” sobbed Jenny; “an’ I not there to hilp them!  An’ poor Miss Mary, the tinder thing!  Oh, ’tis hard, terribly hard upon the crathurs, an’ they not used to the like.”

“Can nothing be done for them?” said I.

“That is what we want to know,” returned Emilia, “and that was one of my reasons for coming up to D—–.  I wanted to consult you and Jenny upon the subject.  You, who are an officer’s wife, and I, who am both an officer’s wife and daughter, ought to devise some plan of rescuing this poor, unfortunate lady and her family from her present forlorn situation.”

The tears sprang to my eyes, and I thought, in the bitterness of my heart, upon my own galling poverty, that my pockets did not contain even a single copper, and that I had scarcely garments enough to shield me from the inclemency of the weather.  By unflinching industry, and taking my part in the toil of the field, I had bread for myself and family, and this was more than poor Mrs. N—–­ possessed; but it appeared impossible for me to be of any assistance to the unhappy sufferer, and the thought of my incapacity gave me severe pain.  It was only in moments like the present that I felt the curse of poverty.