s allowed to
suckle her calf every evening. For this happy task she leaves all the
delights of her pasture, plodding regularly homeward at the hour of
sunset, the rest all meekly following in her train.

The evening is dry and clear, with no trace of rain in the atmosphere,
or we would be surrounded with clouds of those _awful critturs_, the
musquitoes, which the cattle bring home. These are often a dreadful
annoyance, nothing but a thick cloud of smoke dispelling them, and that
only for a time. At night they are particularly a nuisance, buzzing and
stinging unceasingly through the silent hours, forbidding all thought of
sleep till the dawn shows them clinging to the walls and windows,
wearied and bloated with their night's amusement. Those who are
sufficiently acclimated suffer comparatively little--'tis the rich blood
of the stranger that the musquito loves, and emigrants, on the first
season, especially in low marshy situations, suffer extremely from their
attacks.

Mary Gordon having now gone with her pails to meet her milky charge,
while her mother arranges the dairy within, Helen comes to set me on my
way. Again we meet the frolickers returning rather earlier than is usual
on such occasions; but there was sickness at the dwelling where they had
been, which caused them to disperse soon after they had accomplished the
"raising." Kindly greetings passed between us; for here, in this little
world of ours, we have hardly room for the petty distinctions and
pettier strifes of larger communities. We are all well acquainted with
each other, and know each other's business and concerns as well as our
own. There is no concealment of affairs. This, however, saves a vast
deal of trouble--people are much easier where there is no false
appearance to be kept up; and in New Brunswick there is less of "behind
the scenes" than in most places. Many a bright eye glances under Helen's
shadowy hat: and, see, one gallant axe-man lingers behind the others--he
pauses now by the old birch tree--I know he is her lover, and in charity
to their young hearts I must allow her to turn, while we proceed onward.

The fire-flies now gleam through the air like living diamonds, and the
evening star has opened her golden eye in the rich deep azure of the
sky. Our home stands before us, with its white walls thrown in strong
relief by the dark woods behind it: and here, on this adjoining lot,
lives our neighbour who is ill--he who to-day has had the "b