On the 9th of September, the steam-boat William IV. landed us at the then small but rising town of —–­, on Lake Ontario.  The night was dark and rainy; the boat was crowded with emigrants; and when we arrived at the inn, we learnt that there was no room for us—­not a bed to be had; nor was it likely, owing to the number of strangers that had arrived for several weeks, that we could obtain one by searching farther.  Moodie requested the use of a sofa for me during the night; but even that produced a demur from the landlord.  Whilst I awaited the result in a passage, crowded with strange faces, a pair of eyes glanced upon me through the throng.  Was it possible?—­could it be Tom Wilson?  Did any other human being possess such eyes, or use them in such an eccentric manner?  In another second he had pushed his way to my side, whispering in my ear, “We met, ’twas in a crowd.”

“Tom Wilson, is that you?”

“Do you doubt it?  I flatter myself that there is no likeness of such a handsome fellow to be found in the world.  It is I, I swear!—­although very little of me is left to swear by.  The best part of me I have left to fatten the mosquitoes and black flies in that infernal bush.  But where is Moodie?”

“There he is—­trying to induce Mr. S—–­, for love or money, to let me have a bed for the night.”

“You shall have mine,” said Tom.  “I can sleep upon the floor of the parlour in a blanket, Indian fashion.  It’s a bargain—­I’ll go and settle it with the Yankee directly; he’s the best fellow in the world!  In the meanwhile here is a little parlour, which is a joint-stock affair between some of us young hopefuls for the time being.  Step in here, and I will go for Moodie; I long to tell him what I think of this confounded country.  But you will find it out all in good time;” and, rubbing his hands together with a most lively and mischievous expression, he shouldered his way through trunks, and boxes, and anxious faces, to communicate to my husband the arrangement he had so kindly made for us.

“Accept this gentleman’s offer, sir, till to-morrow,” said Mr. S—–­, “I can then make more comfortable arrangements for your family; but we are crowded—­crowded to excess.  My wife and daughters are obliged to sleep in a little chamber over the stable, to give our guests more room.  Hard that, I guess, for decent people to locate over the horses.”

These matters settled, Moodie returned with Tom Wilson to the little parlour, in which I had already made myself at home.

“Well, now, is it not funny that I should be the first to welcome you to Canada?” said Tom.

“But what are you doing here, my dear fellow?”

“Shaking every day with the ague.  But I could laugh in spite of my teeth to hear them make such a confounded rattling; you would think they were all quarrelling which should first get out of my mouth.  This shaking mania forms one of the chief attractions of this new country.”