Chapter Two.

“We have gained the day, Mrs Ashton! We have gained the day, girls!” exclaimed Mr Ashton, rushing with his hat on into the small sitting-room of a red brick house in a dull street of a country town in England. Various exclamations broke from the lips of Mrs and the Misses Ashton at this unexpected announcement. For reasons best known to himself, Mr John Ashton had not informed his wife and daughters of the law-suit going on between himself and his relative, Mr Philip Ashton. “Guess the amount!” he exclaimed. That was impossible. “What do you think of six thousand a-year? Every shilling of it, and under my management it will become ten thousand; ay, and more than that, probably.” It was some time before the Ashtons could realise the fact of this good fortune, as they called it; but as they realised it their ideas expanded, their aspirations increased. Their eldest son, John, lately articled to an attorney, must be entered at Oxford; the second, apprenticed to a draper, was sent off to Germany to grow whiskers and a moustache, lest any of the country gentry should recognise him as having measured out ribbons for them from behind the counter; while the youngest was taken from the Grammar-school and sent off, much against his will, to form aristocratic acquaintances at Eton. The great ambition of the Miss Ashtons was to shine in London society. Their father boasted that money could do everything. It enabled him to obtain a handsome house, equipage, and establishment, and then to commence their career in the world of fashion. There were three Miss Ashtons. The two eldest were considered beauties; the youngest, Mary, had been absent on a visit, and did not return home till her father was on the point of setting off for London.

“Father, I wish to speak to you alone,” said Mary, on the evening of her arrival. Mr Ashton led the way to his office at the back of the house. He had considerable respect for Mary, though he tried not to show it. “Father, I hope that you will not consider I have been wanting in duty in having refrained from writing what I now wish to tell you,” she began. Mr Ashton looked uncomfortable, but nodded for her to continue, which she did. “While I was with Mrs Musgrave, at Scarborough, a gentleman of our name, who happened to be there with some members of his family, was introduced to me. Mrs Musgrave was much pleased with him—we saw him frequently—he at length proposed to me, and feeling sure that you would approve of him, I accepted him.”

“What is his name?” asked Mr Ashton, sharply.

“Philip Ashton;—he is most worthy—most excellent,” answered Mary, trembling at her father’s tone. “He is all—!”

“He is a beggar!” exclaimed Mr Ashton, vehemently. “You will have nothing more to say to him; you understand me clearly; it is not a matter I wish to discuss.” Rising from his seat he led the way out of the room.

Two days afterwards Mary received a letter from Philip Ashton, freeing her from her engagement to him in consequence of their altered circumstances, but couched in terms which more than ever convinced her that he was worthy of her best affections. The family arrived in London, and by dint of perseverance, managed to engage in a whirl of dissipation, which they called pleasure. Mary’s cheeks grew paler than they were wont. Her sisters said that it was the effect of the London season. John, voting Oxford a bore, came to London, and without much difficulty, obtained the character of a fashionable young man about town. It might have been doubted whether Mr Ashton himself derived full advantage from his large income. Few of his guests knew him by sight, and he had often to steal off to bed fatigued with his labours as director of numerous promising speculations in which he had engaged to increase his fortune. Altogether the Ashton family were very busily employed. Some might say that they were like those who “sow the wind to reap the whirlwind.” We gladly quit them to follow the fortunes of their emigrant cousins.

Chapter Three.

Canada is now traversed from one end to the other by railways, with numerous ramifications to the north and south, while steam-vessels run not only on its main artery—the Saint Lawrence—and the great chain of lakes, but also on numerous other rivers and lakes in every direction on the lines of the highway to any inhabited district. Notwithstanding this, the romance of travelling through Canada is not altogether done away with. Although several of the chief cities contain very large populations, Montreal having 100,000 inhabitants, and Quebec and Toronto not many thousands less, and possessing likewise all the advantages required by civilised communities, yet a very few miles away from them the stranger may find himself in some wild district where he might suppose that the foot of man had never trod. In the summer, steamers on water compete with locomotives on land in conveying passengers; and when time is not of consequence, the route by water is generally preferred.

A few days only were spent at Quebec by the Ashtons after their arrival, before they embarked on board one of those wonderful constructions, an American steam-boat, to proceed up the Saint Lawrence to Montreal. The entrance was in the side of the vessel, and on the main deck, which appeared lumbered up from one end to the other with casks, chests, and packages, a flight of steps led to an upper deck, which had the appearance of a long gallery, fitted up as a drawing-room, with sofas, easy chairs, and every luxury. The glazed roof was supported by pillars, but no access could be discovered to any spot where helmsman, captain, or crew might be posted. Harry, after many enquiries, found that the wheel was on a platform on the roof forward, where the captain and pilot stood. He pronounced the vessel to be constructed on two huge arches, having a vast Thames wherry below, with a superstructure of picture galleries on a wide platform extending far over her gunwale on either side.

Montreal, the head of the ocean navigation, was reached; and then by a series of magnificent canals the rapids of the Saint Lawrence were avoided; the lake of the Thousand Isles, with their rocky bases and tree-covered summits, was passed, as were several larger and thriving towns, and Lake Ontario was entered.

At Kingston they embarked on board another steamer, which was far more like an ordinary vessel than the one they had just quitted. Who should come on board, just before she left the wharf, but Mr Norman. A few hours afterwards, when Harry and Charley came on deck, they uttered an exclamation of surprise as they looked around. “What, is this called a lake, Mr Norman? Why, where is the land?”

“Out of sight,” answered their friend, laughing. “North, south, east, west of us. It is rather hazy to the north, or you would see the pine-fringed shore. We shall soon again see it, as we have to touch at several towns on our way.”

Several large vessels were met under all sail, with numerous crews, steering for the Saint Lawrence.

“Where can they be going to?” said Harry.

“To Liverpool, perhaps, or to some other English port, laden with wheat from the Western States,” answered Mr Norman. “Vessels have sailed all the way from Lake Superior to England.”

They saw, however, more things to wonder at than can well be recounted.