ON THE GULF OF ST. LAWRENCE.

"He made the sea also!"

ON BOARD S.S. "VANCOUVER,"

October 3rd, 1890.

S I am nearing the shores of the home of my adoption, my thoughts are wandering back to the many dear and valued friends into whose hands these pages will fall, who will rejoice to learn what a good and merciful

passage we have enjoyed.

Since we left Liverpool, where my dear mother was the last to bid us God-speed, we have had varied experiences. We passed the lovely North Coast of Ireland, seeing the Giant's Causeway very clearly, and sailed into Lough Foyle under a cross wind and threatening sky.

Whilst anchored at Moville we had the pleasure of an interesting conversation with the Rev. J. Bridger, Emigran: Chaplain at Liverpool, who had sailed with us from that city. He certainly loses no opportunity in striving to make his work and its need known, and in winning the sympathies of the first-class passengers for those far less favoured.

Of all estates and conditions of men, women and children, probably the emigrant is the most worthy of help and encouragement. The poor make few new friends,

and the breaking up of all that meant home amongst a class whose wealth of affection is but deepened and strengthened by their poverty, bespeaks the power and impulse of despair to which they have been driven, ere they wrench them asunder to try for better days in the lonely chill of an unknown and untried country. One longed to give a cheery word of encouragement to each, assuring them of a Father's love and care to all who put their trust in Him; and also that the plans for emigration may be worked upon such a basis as shall secure these toilers for daily bread, friends in the country which needs their help to cultivate its grand capacities, and to start them upon right lines.

We left Moville with a lowering sky and contrary wind, which generally thinned our saloon; still the braver and better sea-farers retained both dignity and appetite! During the four and a half days we were out of sight of land, we had three of sunshine, which gave a marvellous charm to the winds and waves. Countless rainbows played upon the spray, seeming to reassure us of a Divine Power and Presence in their reminder that the sea is His also!

On Sunday we had Divine Service in the saloon, which was well attended by the men from the intermediate and steerage. The Bishop of Ontario having been specially asked, preached upon Christian consistency-a subject which, as he remarked, would reach the conscience and life of each one present, under whatever Christian name his faith was held.

The value of a true faith depends altogether upon its supplying a Divine motive to conduct; where action does not ensue, then is our faith not only useless, but fearfully disastrous-a fair fabric, but destined to overwhelm us in its ruin.

On Wednesday morning we neared the beautiful but

Echoes from Paris.

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dangerous island and straits of Belle Isle, known during the greater part of the year as the Field of Ice. We passed several huge icebergs. The form of these bergs is varied, some resembling pyramids, cathedrals, ruined cities, immense blocks of table-land, one over a mile in length. When it is calculated that only one-eighth part of the berg appears above the sea, and that seven-eighths lie concealed beneath the water, it is easy to comprehend that the strongest ship must crush like a match-box when brought into collision with such a ponderous mass. Fortunately they move but slowly, about three miles an hour; sometimes they anchor, and may be seen from year to year. They are as beautiful and fascinating as they are dangerous; it is difficult to imagine anything more lovely than the rays of the setting sun across those magnificent masses of snowy ice, sparkling with a thousand rays as the ocean spray dashes around them.

At the first intimation that land was in sight, the lower and upper decks became crowded with people who seemed to emerge from every hole and corner of the ship, in every possible form of costume. However varied their condition in life, the touch of sympathetic joy was one, and visibly expressed.

On one side was the Island of Anticosti, about the length of Ireland; upon the other Labrador, and the banks of Newfoundland. After a perfect day's sailing through the Straits of Belle Isle, we entered the Gulf of St. Lawrence, some 1,200 miles in length. The shores of Gaspé, with the tiny villages and groups of houses lying peacefully beneath the mountainous range of interheaving hills, was most picturesque.

The Bishop told of a visit he paid to one part of Newfoundland, where the women who attended the service were without exception French Roman Catholics.

H

to see and to greet him out of respect, so have the traditions of an early faith upon t hearts of these simple-hearted and earnest pe it shows what power a faithful missionary eff amongst the first settlers in a new country.

The steamship Vancouver is a very steady time did we experience as much uncomfor as during the usual Channel crossing, scarcel upon a Liverpool ferry. The vessel is well v appointments good, the captain cheery, full yet cautious. Our oldest passenger was a hal of eighty-five, coming to Canada to winter w away from the fogs of London; our youngest senger a child of two. We had a group of lov on board, who after the first two or three days were as bright and merry as they could be.

It is impossible to describe the magnific Gulf of St. Lawrence, or the delicious fresh life-giving air. How one longs that the wea of our crowded city slums could breathe it purity! Surely foul air and crime are more cl than we care to suppose! Yet thousands of o people live and die from generation to gene never know its meaning!

quently appear. A whale spouted for our amusement quite close to the ship, as complacently as if the gulf was only meant for his recreation.

Innumerable islands stud the gulf, many of them inhabited only as summer resorts. Nearing Quebec we came to one of most melancholy interest-Grosse Islethe closing scene of the saddest page of human suffering in this century connected with the history of Irelandwhere over 30,000 of our country people fleeing from famine in their own land to one of plenty, were stricken with famine fever, died, and were buried.

The sombre line of the island was bathed in a magnificent golden sunset as we passed it, reminding us of a blessed resurrection to them that sleep in Jesus!

"Quel bec!" well might the French exclaim, as they neared the stately natural fortress from which they gave its name-Quebec. We sailed into the harbour by starlight under a thundering salute of cannon.

Remaining the night to unload, we are to steam to Montreal, thence to Kingston, up the mighty river St. Lawrence, with its lovely coast on either side studded with trees of the most gorgeous autumnal tints, dotted with white painted wooden houses, and, thank God, churches here and there with the spire heavenwardserected in this new country after many a prayerful struggle