claim of the various lodging-houses was as family hotels, perhaps;
so that I mixed myself up with a group of some eight or ten, whose
voices sounded pleasant, for, in the dark, I had no other indication to
suggest a preference.

I was not long in establishing a footing, so far as talking went, with
one of this party,--an old, very old man, whose greatest anxiety was
to know, first, if "there was any Ingins where we were going," and,
secondly, if I had ever heard of his grandson, Dan Cullinane. The first
doubt I solved for him frankly and freely, that an Indian would n't
dare to show his nose where we were walking; and as to the second, I
hesitated, promising to refer to "my tablets" when I came to the light,
for I thought the name was familiar to me.

"He was a shoemaker by trade," said the old man, "and a better never
left Ireland; he was 'prentice to ould Finucane in Ennis, and might have
done well, if he had n't the turn for Americay."

"But he'll do better here, rely upon it," said I, inviting some further
disclosures; "I'm certain he's not disappointed with having come out."

"No, indeed; glory be to God! he's doing finely; and 't was that
persuaded my son Joe to sell the little place and come here; and a
wonderful long way it is!"

After expending a few generalities on sea voyages in general, with a
cursory glance at naval architecture, from Noah's "square" stern, down
to the modern "round" innovation, we again returned to Dan, for whom I
already conceived a strong interest.

"And is it far to New Orleans from this?" said the old man, who, I
perceived, was struck by the air of sagacity in my discourse.

"New Orleans! why that's in the States, a thousand miles away!"

"Oh, murther, murther!" cried the old fellow, wringing his hands; "and
ain't we in the States?"

"No," said I; "this is Canada."

"Joe, Joe!" cried he, pulling his son by the collar, "listen to this,
acushla. Oh, murther, murther! we're kilt and destroyed intirely!"

"What is it, father?" said a tall, powerfully built man, who spoke in a
low but resolute voice; "what ails you?"

"Tell him, darlint, tell him!" said the old man, not able to utter his
griefs.

"It seems," said I, "that you believed yourselves in the States; now,
this is not so. This is British America,--Lower Canada."

"Isn't it 'Quaybec'?" said he, standing full in front of me.

"It is Quebec--, but still, that is Canada."

"And it's ten thousand miles from Dan!" sai