ment against such home truths. "Let
us drop this hateful subject," said she, hastily; "I cannot bear to
think about it."

"But, my dear girl, we must force ourselves to think about it, calmly
and dispassionately; and having determined which is the path of duty, we
must follow it out, without any reference to our own likes and dislikes.
Our marriage would have been a most imprudent one, had it been
contracted on any other terms; and we are both to blame that we have
loitered away so many months of valuable time in happy ease, when we
should have been earning independence for ourselves and our family."

"You may be right, John,--yes, I know that you are right. But it is no
such easy matter to leave your home and country, and the dear friends
whose society renders life a blessing and poverty endurable--to abandon
a certain good for an uncertain better, to be sought for among untried
difficulties. I would rather live in a cottage in England, upon brown
bread and milk, than occupy a palace on the other side of the Atlantic."

"This sounds very prettily in poetry, Flora; but, my dear girl, life is
made up of stern realities, and it is absolutely necessary for us to
provide against the dark hour before it comes suddenly upon us. Our
future prospects press upon my heart and brain too forcibly to be
neglected. I have thought long and painfully upon the subject, and I
have come to the resolution to emigrate this spring."

"So soon?"

"The sooner the better. The longer we defer it, the more difficulties we
shall have to encounter. The legacy left you by your aunt will pay our
expenses out, and enable us, without touching my half-pay, to purchase a
farm in Canada."

"Canada!"

Flora's eye brightened.

"Oh, I am so glad that it is not to the Cape of Good Hope!"

"In this decision, Flora, I have yielded to _your_ wishes. My _own_
inclinations would lead me back to a country where I have dear friends,
a large tract of land, and where some of the happiest years of my life
were spent. You are not wise, Flora, to regard the Cape with such
horror. No person would delight more in the beautiful and romantic
scenery of that country than yourself. You have taken up a foolish
prejudice against the land I love."

"It is not that, dear John. But you know, I have such a terror of the
wild beasts--those dreadful snakes and lions! I never should dare to
stir beyond the garden, for fear of being stung or devoured. And then, I
have been