In the fall, my husband expected the regiment in which he
held his commission would be reduced, which would again plunge us
into the same distressing poverty. Often of a night I revolved these
things in my mind, and perplexed myself with conjectures as to what
in future was to become of us. Although he had saved all he could
from his pay, it was impossible to pay several hundreds of pounds
of debt; and the steam-boat stock still continued a dead letter. To
remain much longer in the woods was impossible, for the returns from
the farm scarcely fed us; and but for the clothing sent us by
friends from home, who were not aware of our real difficulties,
we should have been badly off indeed.
I pondered over every plan that thought could devise; at last, I
prayed to the Almighty to direct me as to what would be the best
course for us to pursue. A sweet assurance stole over me, and
soothed my spirit, that God would provide for us, as He had hitherto
done - that a great deal of our distress arose from want of faith. I
was just sinking into a calm sleep when the thought seemed whispered
into my soul, "Write to the Governor; tell him candidly all you have
suffered during your sojourn in this country; and trust to God for
the rest."
At first I paid little heed to this suggestion; but it became so
importunate that at last I determined to act upon it as if it were
a message sent from heaven. I rose from my bed, struck a light,
sat down, and wrote a letter to the Lieutenant-Governor, Sir George
Arthur, a simple statement of facts, leaving it to his benevolence
to pardon the liberty I had taken in addressing him.
I asked of him to continue my husband in the militia service, in
the same regiment in which he now held the rank of captain, which,
by enabling him to pay our debts, would rescue us from our present
misery. Of the political character of Sir George Arthur I knew
nothing. I addressed him as a man and a Christian, and I
acknowledge, with the deepest and most heartfelt gratitude,
the generous kindness of his conduct towards us.
Before the day dawned, my letter was ready for the post. The first
secret I ever had from my husband was the writing of that letter;
and, proud and sensitive as he was, and averse to asking the least
favour of the great, I was dreadfully afraid that the act I had
just done would be displeasing to him; still, I felt resolutely
determined to send it. After giving the children their breakfast,
I walked down and read it to my brother-in-law, who was not only
much pleased with its contents, but took it down himself to the
post-office.
