HARD TIMES AT HOME.
Life is hard in the Megantic district. A very small portion of the land
is susceptible of cultivation. The crops are meagre, and when the family
is provided for, there is very little left to sell off the farm. Money
is scarce. There is very little to be made in lumber.
When Donald went away there was a debt against his farm. He sent from
time to time what he could spare to wipe it off. But the times were bad.
Donald's father got deeper into debt. The outlook was not encouraging.
"I wish Donald would come home," the old man frequently muttered. "I
wish he would," his mother would say, and then she would cry softly to
herself.
Poverty is always unlovely.
Too often it is crime!
CHAPTER IX.
"Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes,
And fondly broods with miser care."
"DEAREST DONALD,--I received your kind letter. That you are doing well,
and saving money for the purpose you speak of, it is pleasant to hear.
That you still love me is what is dearest to my heart. I may confess
in this letter what I could scarcely ever say in your presence, that
I think of you always.
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