ght Mary Dean very beautiful, and I now know that she was so.
She was a child, it must be remembered, or little more than one; but
though very small, she was very graceful. She was beautifully fair,
with blue, truthful eyes, in which it was impossible guile could ever
find a dwelling-place. I have no doubt that my readers will picture her
to themselves as she sat in the cabin with a book on her lap, gravely
conning its contents, or skipped along the deck, a being of light and
life, the fair spirit of the summer sea. Such was Mary Dean as I first
saw her. Every one loved her. Her father's heart was wrapped up in
her. His crew would, to a man, have died rather than that harm should
have happened to her. On sailed the ship. There was much sickness, for
all hands were put on the smallest allowance of water and provisions it
was possible to subsist on; and we, unfortunately, fell in with no other
ship able to furnish us with a supply.

At length the welcome sound was heard of "Land ahead!" It was Cape
Breton, at the entrance of the Gulf of Saint Lawrence. Rounding the
cape, we stood towards the mouth of the river Saint Lawrence, that vast
stream, fed by those inland seas the lakes of Upper Canada, and
innumerable rivers and streams. On the north side of the gulf is the
large island of Newfoundland, celebrated for its cod fisheries. A
glance at the map will show our course far better than any description
of mine. I could scarcely believe that we were actually in the river
when we had already proceeded a hundred miles up it, so distant were the
opposite shores, and, till told of it, I fancied that we were still in
the open sea. I was much struck with the grand spectacle which Quebec
and its environs presented, as, the ship emerging from the narrow
channel of the river formed by the island of Orleans, the city first met
my view. It is at this point that the Saint Lawrence, taking a sudden
turn, expands, so as to assume the appearance of a broad lake.

The sun had just risen, and all nature looked fresh and green, rejoicing
in the genial warmth of a Canadian spring. On the left was the town,
the bright tin steeples and housetops of which, crowning the summit of
Cape Diamond, glittered in the rays of the glorious luminary. Ships of
all rigs and sizes lay close under the cliffs, and from their diminutive
appearance I calculated the great height of the promontory. About eight
miles off, on the right, I could see t