h snowstorms, and
got strong by the exercise. The mate showed me hickory and hemlock,
and a lot of other foreigners, while the men were cutting logs in the
bush.'

'You have picked up the Canadian phraseology already,' observed Robert.

'Yes;' and Arthur reddened slightly. 'Impossible to avoid that, when
you're thrown among fellows that speak nothing else. But I wanted
to tell you, that coming back we hailed a boat from one of those
outward-bound ships lying yonder at anchor: the mate says their wood and
water is half a pretence. They are smuggling skins, in addition to their
regular freight of lumber.'

'Smuggling skins!'

'For the skippers' private benefit, you understand: furs, such as sable,
marten, and squirrel; they send old ship's stores ashore to trade with
vagrant Indians, and then sew up the skins in their clothes, between the
lining and the stuff, so as to pass the Custom-house officers at home.
Bob! I'm longing to be ashore for good. You don't know what it is to
feel firm ground under one's feet after six weeks' unsteady footing. I'm
longing to get out of this floating prison, and begin our life among the
pines.'

Robert shook his head a little sorrowfully. Now that they were nearing
the end of the voyage, many cares pressed upon him, which to the volatile
nature of Arthur seemed only theme for adventure. Whither to bend their
steps in the first instance, was a matter for grave deliberation. They
had letters of introduction to a gentleman near Carillon on the Ottawa,
and others to a family at Toronto. Former friends had settled beside the
lonely Lake Simcoe, midway between Huron and Ontario. Many an hour of
the becalmed days he spent over the maps and guide-books they had brought,
trying to study out a result. Jay came up to him one afternoon, as he
leaned his head on his hand perplexedly.

'What ails you? have you a headache?'

'No, I am only puzzled.'

Her own small elbow rested on the taffrail, and her little fingers
dented the fair round cheek, in unwitting imitation of his posture.

'Is it about a lesson? But you don't have to get lessons.'

'No; it is about what is best for me to do when I land.'

'Edith asks God always; and He shows her what is best,' said the child,
looking at him wistfully. Again he thought of his pious prayerful
mother. She might have spoken through the childish lips. He closed his
books, remarking that they were stupid. Jay gave him her hand to walk
up and down the d