to revisit the scenes of her childhood in the
State of Maine, before removing to Canada, and, as he considered it
the duty of every man to make the happiness of his wife his first
consideration, he was for this reason obliged to defer the proposed
removal for the present. Had he seen the look of relief which passed
over my aunt's countenance as she read the letter, he certainly would
have felt no fears of her suffering from disappointment by their failing
to arrive at the time expected. "I only hope," said she, "that his wife
may find the ties which bind her to the scenes of her childhood strong
enough to keep her there, and I am certain I shall not seek to sever
them." "I am afraid Lucinda," said her mother, "that your heart is not
quite right." "Perhaps not mother," she replied, "I try to do right, but
I can't help dreading the arrival of that lazy Silas Stinson and his
family; he was always too idle to work and when they are once here we
cannot see them suffer, so I see nothing for us but to support them."
"Let us hope for the best" said the old lady, "he may do better than you
think, and it's no use to meet troubles half way."

The preceding winter had been one of unusual severity, and, as is
often the case in the climate of Canada where one extreme follows
another, an early spring had given place to an intensely hot summer.
The school had closed, but I was to remain with Uncle Nathan till autumn,
when I was to return to my home at Elmwood for a short time before
seeking a situation. It was the tenth of August, a day which will be long
remembered by the dwellers in and around Fulton. For many weeks not a
drop of rain had fallen upon the dry and parched ground, and the heat
from the scorching rays of the sun was most oppressive. Day and night
succeeded each other with the same constant enervating heat. Sometimes
the sun was partially obscured by a sort of murky haze, which seemed to
render the air still more oppressive and stifling, and all nature seemed
to partake of the universal languor; not a breath of air stirred the
foliage of the trees, and the waters of the river assumed a dull
motionless look, in keeping with the other elements. "This day does beat
all," said the Widow Green as she came in, flushed and heated from the
dairy room. "I thought," replied my aunt, "I could bear either heat or
cold as well as most people, but this day is too much for me. I cannot
work, and I would advise you to give over too." "I