remained just as firm a Roman Catholic as ever. Indeed, it
was the height of presumption in me, a boy in my twentieth year, to
attempt the conversion of such a strict Romanist as this Irishman.

The weather was excessively fine. The trees were just bursting into
leaf. The islands in the St. Lawrence, which are here numerous, wore
the brightest hues, and presented a charming contrast to the foaming
rapids.

I remained two or three days at Prescot, waiting the arrival of my
baggage, which I had left on board the Durham boat. I amused myself
during the interval by taking walks in the neighbourhood. The land
appeared very sandy, the timber being chiefly hemlock: the situation of
the town is good. Steam-navigation commenced at this place, and now
that the Welland Canal is completed, it affords an uninterrupted
navigation be borne in mind that at the time of which I am to the head
of Lakes Huron and Michigan. It must speaking (1825), the great St.
Lawrence Canal and the Rideau were not commenced, but since their
completion the Durham boats and small steamers have given place to a
set of superb boats affording the best accommodation, whereby the
passage from Montreal to Toronto can be performed at half the expense,
and in one-third of the time.

My baggage having arrived, I left Prescot by boat in the evening for
Kingston, at that time the second town both in size and importance in
Canada West. It must, on account of its situation as a military and
naval post, always be a place of consequence. I fell in there with an
old sea-dog, who had commanded a vessel, for many years trading between
London and Quebec. He had had the misfortune to lose his vessel, which
was wrecked on the rocks at Gaspe, near the mouth of the St. Lawrence.
I was glad to find the friends I was going to reside with had come out
passengers in his ship, and that the schooner he then commanded was
bound for the Big-bay (now called Windsor), in the township of Whitby,
within six or seven miles of my friends' residence, and that they would
sail in two days at farthest.

On our passage from Prescot to Kingston we passed Brockville, which
looked very pretty from the river, and soon afterwards we were
threading our way through the intricacies of the Thousand Islands.* Who
has not heard of the far-famed Thousand Islands--the Archipelago of
the St. Lawrence? Nothing can exceed the beauty of this spot. The river
is here several miles in width, studded with innumer