so entirely in His hands, and may in a moment be called into His presence! The wished-for morning at length broke. Most welcome were the sun's rays streaming into our cabin, which announced another and a brighter day. The first object which caught my eye on reaching the deck, was what proved to be the last of the icebergs. We were sailing towards it, and soon passed within a few hundred yards of it. It seemed to have about an acre of surface. In the windward side it rose about thirty feet, and sloped down gradually to leeward. The beating sea had scooped out a series of hollow caves in its precipices,—and nothing could exceed the exquisite beauty of the waves as they rushed into these icy caverns, catching from their transparent walls an intense emerald green, which mingled with the pure snowy whiteness of their own crested heads.

We sighted land upon Sabbath morning, but passed it at a considerable distance. It was Cape Pine in Newfoundland. We had divine service on board, as on the former Sabbath. Those services are attended by the passengers, and also by the officers and crew. In the absence of a clergyman, the captain reads the service of the Church of England. After preaching, we found, as on the preceding Sabbath, a great disposition on the part of several of the passengers to enter into frank and kindly conversation upon the truths expounded. As the subject of one of the discourses was the divinity of Christ, and the inseparable connexion between this fact, and our love and obedience to Christ as our Saviour, one or two, who had hitherto been Unitarians, discussed with much earnestness the views advanced, and with apparent

sincere desire of knowing the truth. I hope those Sabbaths were not without their fruit.

The captain tells us that he hopes to enter Halifax before morning. We had bid farewell to our American friends, who will have continued their voyage southward, before we can again meet. The passengers drank our healths with many kind words after dinner to-day. We have received many cordial invitations from several to visit them if we go to the States. There was on board a tall Kentuckian. He wore large boots, great-coat, and broad-brimmed hat. He seldom if ever spoke, but walked the deck in silence, chewing tobacco all day long. He was never absent from meals, and the only change which ever marked his countenance was the smile which lasted during the hour after dinner, when the Yankees crowded into the covered place on deck, near the funnel, to sing Old Dan Tucker, and other "Nigger songs" in hearty chorus. I was not a little surprised, when this specimen of the West came up to me, asking, "'Spect to visit Kentuck, sir? 'Cause if you do, I shall give you three days as fine coon shooting as ever mortal enjoyed!" Though I had no hope of joining him in his sport, I was touched by his kindness.

Amidst heavy rain, we ran up this morning, about five o'clock, to the wooden wharf at Halifax. The ship was discharging her cargo when we came up on deck. At that early hour we were met by friends who then began an acquaintance which I hope will never end in this world or the next. In a short time we had bade farewell to that splendid steamer,—thankful for our short but

pleasant voyage, and landed on the shores of a new world, with new duties, new cares, new hopes and fears before us; but also new friends, and new labours of love, and an ever-present God as our hope and stay!

NORMAN MACLEOD.

XVII.

A WINTER IN CANADA.

ANADA is invariably associated in the mind of an

CA

Englishman with snow, and something like a shiver creeps over him when the name of the country is mentioned. It was, therefore, with feelings of much surprise that we listened to the speculations of the people as to the coming winter. It was with no feelings of dread that they looked forward to the winter's shroud that was to wrap up all nature in the stillness of death. They longed for it, as the husbandman for a plenteous harvest, or the Israelites for the wonted fall of manna. They were as fastidious, too, about the proper timing of the fall as the husbandman is in reference to a shower of rain. The snow may fall very inopportunely. Great is the disappointment when it comes before the ground is sufficiently indurated by frost, or the lakes and rivers have acquired a sufficient crust of ice. In that case, the snow acts as a warm covering, the ice beneath ceases to increase in thickness, and a treacherous footing, during the whole

winter, is the necessary consequence. Great is the joy, on the other hand, when no snow falls till the ice is able to bear the skater or the sleigh, and the earth is hard as iron.

This kindly feeling towards the snow can be accounted for on various grounds. The sudden sinking of the temperature, along with the fall of snow, produces a wonderful exhilaration of spirits. The languor induced by the extreme heat of summer is at once banished; and men and animals seem intoxicated with the new and bracing conditions of the atmosphere. The small Normandy horses prance with delight, and can hardly be reined in. The Newfoundland dogs roll in ecstasy in the snow, and everything that can move abroad seems as if awakening from a long sleep. The more remarkable effects are not seen, except when the temperature sinks considerably below zero. The sudden access of new life and spirits is usually accounted for by the dryness of the atmosphere. But it is doubtful whether this is a satisfactory explanation. It is more probably due to the fact that, with every inhalation of the air into the lungs, there is a greater proportion of oxygen. This may also account for the beneficial effects of the climate in certain diseased states of the lungs. It is not unusual for a catarrh to disappear, as if by magic, when the temperature suddenly drops below zero. A similar effect is witnessed in the churches on Sunday. There is no coughing to disturb the preacher-all tendency to bronchial irritation being subdued. The beneficial effect of the atmosphere of Canada, in certain pulmonary ailments, is now so well understood that invalids are