Tom Wilson Sailed The 1st Of May,
And Had A Speedy Passage, And Was, As We Heard From His Friends,
Comfortably Settled In The Bush, Had Bought A Farm, And Meant To
Commence Operations In The Fall.
All this was good news, and as he
was settled near my brother's location, we congratulated ourselves
that our eccentric friend had found a home in the wilderness at
last, and that we should soon see him again.
On the 9th of September, the steam-boat William IV. landed us at
the then small but rising town of - -, on Lake Ontario. The night
was dark and rainy; the boat was crowded with emigrants; and when
we arrived at the inn, we learnt that there was no room for us - not
a bed to be had; nor was it likely, owing to the number of
strangers that had arrived for several weeks, that we could obtain
one by searching farther. Moodie requested the use of a sofa for me
during the night; but even that produced a demur from the landlord.
Whilst I awaited the result in a passage, crowded with strange
faces, a pair of eyes glanced upon me through the throng. Was it
possible? - could it be Tom Wilson? Did any other human being
possess such eyes, or use them in such an eccentric manner?
In another second he had pushed his way to my side, whispering
in my ear, "We met, 'twas in a crowd."
"Tom Wilson, is that you?"
"Do you doubt it?
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