nst the chimney
board. This served admirably as long as it kept its feet, and when it
blew down, as it did occasionally during the night, it only meant
putting up and refixing it, and the exercise prevented heavy sleeping.

At seven in the morning we were called up, and after another "good
wash," went our ways, each with fourpence sterling in his hand, the
parting gift of hospitable Master Watts.

"Good-bye, paper-stainer," said the matron, as, after looking up and
down High Street, I strode off towards the bridge, Londonwards. "Come
and see us again if you are passing this way."

"Thank you,--I will," I said.

CHAPTER X.

NIGHT AND DAY ON THE CARS IN CANADA.

"Porter!"

The voice broke the stillness of a long night, and suddenly woke me out
of a deep sleep. There was a moment's pause, and then the voice, which
sounded singularly near to my bed-curtains, spoke again.

"Porter!"

"Yes, sah!"

"You have given me the wrong boots."

From the foot of my bed, as it seemed, there came another voice which
said, with querulous emphasis, "These are not my boots."

Then followed explanations, apologies, and interchange of boots; and
before the parleying had come to an end I was sufficiently awake to
remember that on the previous night I had gone to bed in a Pullman car
at Montreal, and had been speeding all night towards Halifax. It had
been mild autumnal weather in Montreal, and the snow, which a week ago
had fallen to the depth of two or three inches, had melted and been
trodden out of sight save for the sprinkling which remained on the
crest of Mount Royal. Here, as a glance through the window disclosed,
we were again in the land of snow. It was not deep, for winter had not
yet set in, and the sleighs, joyfully brought out at the first fall,
had been relegated to summer quarters. But there was quite enough about
to give the country a cheerful wintry aspect, the morning sun shining
merrily over the white fields and the leafless trees, bare save for the
foliage with which the snowflakes had endowed them. It may have been an
equally fine morning in Montreal, but it is certain it seemed twice as
bright and fresh here, and we began to realise something of those
exhilarating properties of the Canadian air of which we had fondly read.

On this long journey eastward travellers do not enter the city of
Quebec. They pass by on the other side of the river, and thus gain the
advantage of seeing Quebec as a picture shou