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Satbact  CoIItjt  liiinai; 

MRS.   ANNE   E.   P.   SEVER, 

1- 1  c^M.  -Xf  JtjU.  I  it^f. 







politics,  Science,  ^rt  anb  Jiteraturt 


MAY,   1899,  TO  OCTOBER.   1899,    INCLUSIVE 


Digitized  byGoOglC 


MAY.  1899— OCTOBEB,  1899. 


FiiLD-HiRBHAL  H.R.H.  Thi  Phhci  at  Walk From  t,  Phntograph  2 

Post  OooEBCKH,  Mdbeoea  Likes  Distuiv From  %  FhotoRraph  100 

Fbom  Hauil's  FoiiTT.  Like  Joskph,  Mubkoka  Laeib  Dibteici From  x  Photograph  198 

Feahoib  Pabehak From  %  Photograph  296 

The  Cohuq  Storm From  a  Pointing  394 

TANTALiziira.  From  aPuuUng  492 


A  New  Natiomil  Pouot SnuKor  AHiUiin.    107 

A  Bill  of  Gosre ., 

Adventdbes  op  a  PsiBOirEK  OF  Was 

Birds  vr  tbr  Gabden  lUiutnted C.  W.  Jfaih. 

[127,  2M,  355 

Books,  SraEsaTfi  ard  Weaknim  of  CDRHtirT John  A  Cooper.  10 

BAH1H4S,  A  ^KROH  OF lUiutrated E.  B.  ii  ortMntrlon.  S07 

Bebhdda,  The  Chabms  OF niiutntted Byrva  NichoUon  543 

British  Imperial  Cdbbenct W.  Mytrt  Oreg.  570 

Oomhisbion's  Wobk—  Codmtir  Imfldenqeh John  Ckarltm,  SI. P.  13 

CaMADUM   OlI.BBBtTIEB— Dr.  W.  H.  Druhuohd  ..Illuib»(ad  E.Q.V.  62 

"                     Btbon  E.  Walker.. IlluMnted TAobmu  R  Champion.  168 

William  MoLiHMAH..Illuitr«tod S.  Q.  V.  251 

"                     Sir  William  DAWHON„IUii«trAted Frank  Yeigh.  343 

Hos.  JoREFU  MARTIH.,Illu«lr»tBd  John  R.  Jtobimoa.  434 

Cahadiah  Piofle:  A  Critioibm Worman  FatUrton.  13S 

Dante's  DitiheComedt Proftt»or  WiUiam  Clark 

[111,  204,  337 

Daibt  Ihddhtbt  OF  Caxada  Illustrated.. Q.  W.  Whaatim.  51 

DOBOHBBTEB,  Baboht  OF OoiTge  Johtuort.  476 

Dawson,  Sib  William  ;  SuroH With  Portrait Frank  Yeigk.  343 

Bmpibe  Day W.  Simford  Evani  275 

Erolamd,  Work   ahdWobkebbIh IlltutrMtad Cliflon  Joktuon.  216 

Eablt  Datb  at  Yobk  Factory BecUa  WiUtn.  3 

Fort  Nei«Oi<  ;  How  the  Fhench  Caftdbrd Btckit*  WiilKm  210 

Francis  Farkhah  amd  His  Woues Qtorgt  Stewart,  D.C.L.  363 

" M.  J.  Oormon.  477 

FotiHDEBOF  Halifax Btnry  J.  Morgan  96 

DRnMNOHD,  Dr.  W.  H.j  Sketoh With  FartrBlC B.  Q.  V .  62 

Oalician  Weddiro Batil  C.   ITEatma  83 

Gbodse,  Shootiho  the  Rdfced Rtsinaid  GoKrlay.  B39 

Halifax,  the  Focndbb  of Btnni  J.  Morgan  96 

Halifax,  the  Attbaotiiihs  of Itlnitrated E.  Shtrbamt  Tapper.  347 

Hospital  Life  in  a  Great  City Illustrated  bjGoode. John  MeCrae,  M.D.  320 

How  TUB  Frincb  Gaptured  Port  Nblsoh  Beckla  WilUon.  210 

,  Google 

iMPniAL  CUBKINOT W.  UytTt  Ottv.  670 

Im  DtnacBOr  Miluohuub Proftnor  Shortt.  493 

J&MAicu  AMD  JuiAiiuxa,  PBiBtin  COHDiTioM  OF T.  fl.  ifa<:£>ermot.  502 

LlTlUTDU W.  A.  Fraitr,  34 

Mabtih,  Hoh.  JoBiFHi  Ssnoa With  Portnit Jolm  R.  AoMtuoo.  424 

Mi-Cahihb  ni  FABia Jant  Marlin  60 

HiuiOHAiBn,  »  Dsnaai  of Frafato' ShotU.  493 

Moou  Laxds  OP  NoBTBBUr  Ortauo lUattratcd W.  Ridout  VadnxrtK.. 

[119,  254. 

HoLstnfAK,  Wiluam;  Skbtob With  Furfawt E.  fl.  Y.  251 

PKIHOC  OF  Waus ninttiat^ Tlumuu  S.  CAampion.  16 

PacifioOablb 181 

PaopLS  or  Pabmamkht  Hill Ckartt*  Ltici*  Shaw. 

[304,      438,  557 

....lUiutnted BiOtU*  WWkm.  117 

..,.IUiartr«t«i B.C.SMUif.  418 

Rtru  An>  Rod  ur  tbi  Uoosb  Lakim  or  Nobthbut  Omtaiio,  lUortnted,  W.  BidaiU  Wadtvorlh. 

[149,  2M 

BAniuoH,  PiEBB%  BoaHBAKOKB lUnitTatcd BteUu  WilUon.  117 

BorrBD  GanuaB,  SaoomarHi ApinaU  Oawrloy.  539 

Sabba'Kihbwaii  Cocstrt,  a  Tbip  Into martntad  by  Qoode Samuitl  Bmy,  C.E.  26 

Sblubk;  Placb  Kahbb  or  Cahada Oeaiyt  J/Antan.  395 

PaBUIaH  AilD  HIB  WoBKB Otorfft  SleuaH  D.C.L.  363 

"           "      '■         ■'     If,  J,  Oomum.  477 

Walkbb,  Btbon  K;  Sbikh With  Portrdt T.E.C.  158 

West  Ihsibb— sbb  Babamab,  Bbbmvdab,  Jahaioa. 

Whbbi  Wm.  Fbhn  u  Bdriid nimtnit^ H.  O.  SMUg.  418 

Walbb,  Hu  Rotal  HiaHXBsa  thb  Fbikob  or..IUiutnt«l Thomat  E.  Champion.  18 

WoBK  AHD  WoBKBBa  IN  Rdbal  Eholand.  .  IU(utrat«d Clifion  Johnmm.  ZIB 

Wout  or  Joura  Hioh  CownSMOH John  CAorfton.  It.F.  13 

ToBK  Pactobt,  Eablt  Datb  at  Bedda  WUIton.  3 


BooKB  ATO  AuTHOBa 91,  190,288,  389,  484,  679 

OomBBiTT  EvBHta  Abboad John  A.  Eman. 

[85,  383,  476 

■■  ■'  " A.  B.  U.CBfquhimn. 

[182,  279 

'*  "  " W.  Sanfoni  Emtu. 


Bditobul  ComOHT John  A.  Cooper. 

[88,  186,  ^S^  386,  481,  576 

Idu  HOHBHTS 97,  196,  293,  391,  489,  583 


BfABOnBitrrB  db  Bobbbval.    Bg T.  8.  Marqait. •■■  ■  91 

Thb  8pah  o'Lirt     By  Wm.  SfcLenaan 92 

Thb  Hokhoii  Psopbkt.    By  LUh  Dougall ^ 

Thb  Etb  or  A  God.    Bv  W.  a.  Frater 93 

Oavada:  As  ENOicLt^PADiA.    EdUtd  bf  J.  Ciutdl  BojAinM.   190 

Casadiak  Citizbhbhif.    By  John  Miller 288 

NoTHiHO  Bdt  Namcb.    BrH.  r.OarOmtr 

Digitized  by  Google 


Th»  Btbono  Abm.    Bv  Sobert  Ban- \ 487 

Thi  GeiAT  UoHFAHT.    Bv  BtttUt  waUon. 679 

BtMiHUOBKOH  Ahobg  the  Roou.    BtThomaMC.  WaHm. 6S0 

BlBUOOBAFHT  OF  ClHADUM  POBtBT.      Bg  C.   O.  Jomxt 662 


A  Ttfioal  Tehdmioot XUiutnitod  byGoode BaM  C.  DSauanx  413 

A  PKOPiaBIOHAL'DmT  CAoriei  JFt/ion  J'oAnJOn,  449 

Ohkkko  asd  TTirobi  Bn. Illivtrkted  bjr  Ajpell Oy.  Warvian.  549 

DAnaam  of  WiroHn JoannaS.  Wood, 

[38,  139,  232,  369,  429,  627 

Fbahoois  Libhuf,  Tbi  Old  Yotaobob J)r.  Oeergt  Fitk.  160 

KuMET lUiutnted L.  M.  Montgonerg.  228 

The  Zjltof  Lmdom  Bbidok UlmtoUad  by  Biigdoi  Vima  Shaani. 


Padl  Foikibb's  Bub-Tuf Fnat  Baird  165 

Tai  f  APTDBB  or  Shmtah  IT.J.JVnMr.  297 

Thi  Spibb  ur  St.  lomtitia ^orence  Hamilton  Sandal  183 

ThbMab  ATTHB  WmttL Qiibert  Barter.  101 

Thbbb  BxFBsr  CTCLisn Babtrt  Barr.  S4 

Two  Sidbb  k>  a  Stobt PtrtU  W.  Bart.  270 

Widow  of  Mum A.  Bridle. 

174,  172,  981.  829,  467,  662 


A  Tbaobdt  nr  Futhibs Btnry  XtUlotk  Bmat.  Mi 

Oasadum  Hnoi Ckai.  Campbdl.  134 

Chabaittrb Otorp  Edgar  R^.  480 

Death  of  thbMoobb        Rtaindtd  Oourfag.  2S0 

Flowbb  of  thb  Pbaibib  Lahd John  Ditff.  437 

Bu  SoBO Jvm  BlewttL  339 

MuBlo Jokx  Stuart  Thornton,  137 

Oh  SHOTOTIBHttt Arthur  J.  Stritvir.  180 

Thb  BoBHiir  of  Timb Frtdtrick  Oeorgi  Scott.  327 

Thi  Cb»  op  thb  Outlakdbb W.  A.  Fritter.  214 

Thb  Kwq'b  Fla«>x llliutnt«4 f^ntlin  Gadtby.  70 

Thb  Nbw  Invasion B.  B.  Oodfrtt/.  147 

Thb  Bo«b JohnBtuart  Tkomton,  M2 

Two  Bobvetb Bvdyn  aitd  Laura  B.  Durattd.  488 

Thb  Tabbb  asp  thb  Qbaih Jot.  A.  Tneker.  471 

VASomn'U Klwsn  Irving  Hoffman.  17 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 

Contributions  by  W.  A.  Frascr  and  Robert  B. 


MAY,  1599. 




Distinguished  everywiiera  for 
Delicacy  of  Flavour,  Superior 
Quality,  and  Kutritlve  Praper- 

cofflforting  to  trie  nervous  and 
dyspeptic.    Sold  only  In  i-lb. 
tins,  labelled  JAMES  EPPS  & 
CO.,  Ltd.,  HomDopaihrc  Chem- 
ists, Uindon. 

BREAKFAST                  SUPPER 



more  effcitually  than  any  other  preparation,  Pievenli 
for  Fair  or  Gcey  Hair. 


Radiant  Beauly  to  the  Compleiion  and  a  Solineu  and 
Delicacy  to  the  Handi  and  Anna. 


iate.  and  A.  ROWLAND  &  SONa  flalton  Gardea. 



For  a  long  and  graceful  waist  without 
tight  lacing 

Wear  "The  Contour." 





'    Equally  important.     Both 
secured  by  the 

Make  sure,  however,  that 
it  is  put   in  by  a  reliable 

CEOItCE  W.  ItEED  &  CO., 



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Canadian  >fe^:^zLNE 


29  189 



NoTB. — In  Ihe  year  i68i  the  Honourable  Company  of  Merc hanls-Ad venturers  trading:  into 
Hudson's  Bay  decided  to  establisli  a  second  factory,  to  be  situated  on  Ihe  weslem  hide  of  the 
Bay,  in  the  vicinity  of  Fort  Nelson.  For  this  purpose  John  Bridicar  was  appointed  reKident 
Governor  and  despatched  in  the  Princt  f^urert,  hiu  arrival  in  those  re^ons  (akinif  place  some 
days  subsequent  to  that  ol  two  French -Canadian  fur-traders,  lormerly  in  the  service  of  the 
Company,  named  Radisson  and  Groseilliers.  This  pair  had  set  their  hcarlH  on  delealing:  the 
purpose  of  the  Enfflish  in  effecMiig-  a  setileinent  in  the  localily  ;  and  probably,  if  Ihiry  had  had  to 
deal  with  the  Company's  forces  alone,  might  not  have  been  compelled  to  resoit  to  quite  so 
much  labour  and  strategy  as  is  related  in  the  narrative.  Bui,  in  addition  (o  the  Company's 
ship  and  crew,  there  arriveil  on  the  scene  an  unauthorized  interloper  named  tlie  Susan,  hailing- 
from  Boston,  in  New  England.  To  complicate  matters,  the  Siaan  was  commanded  by  Benja- 
min Ciliam,  the  son  of  the  captain  of  the  Company's  ship,  Kha  Prince  Rupert.  Neither  Bridg;ar, 
the  Governor,  nor  Captain  Gillam  knew  of  the  presence  of  Ihe  interloper,  who,  by  ihe  laws  of 
the  period  and  the  charter  of  Ihe  Company,  could  be  treated  as  a  pirate,  and  her  commander 
and  crew  either  shot  or  carried  in  chains  to  England.  Radisson  does  not  recognize  Ihe  mon- 
opoly of  the  English  Company,  which  i"  tens  suiprising  when  one  considers  that  it  was  he  and 
his  brother-in-law  who  [noneered  all  th«ir  early  undertaking's.  He  lays  claim  to  all  the  i-ounlry 
and  trade  for  his  master.  King:  Louis  XIV.  Not  beinji;'  a  match  for  the  iwo  partieH  of  English 
tt^ether  he  resolven  to  capture  and  disarm  Ihem  separately.  One  inlerestini;:  point  deserves 
to  be  noted  :  the  energy  and  intrepidity  displayed  by  Ihe  Frenchmen,  who  seem  thoroug-hly  at 
home  in  the  wilderness,  and  the  timidity  and  helplessness  of  th>?  English  servants.  Indeed, 
had  it  not  been  for  the  subsequent  treachery  of  the  two  brothers-in-law,  in  returintr  to  the 
Company's  service  and  yielding'  up  their  establishment  to  the  English,  the  Company  would 
probably  have  found  it  impossible  to  maintain  themselves  in  this  quarter  of  the  Bay.  Fort 
Bourbon,  which  was  the  hi );h -sounding'  title  Groieilliers  and  Radisson  gave  to  their  structure 
of  logs,  became,  later,  York  Factory,  The  following  narrative  forms  a  chapter  in  the  History 
of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  which  will  shortly  be  published  in  two  volumes. 

MORE  than  fifteen  years  had  elapsed  more  energetic  policy  been  adopted  may 
since  Medard  Chouart  des  Gro-  be  deduced  from  the  circumstance  that 
seilliers  had  first  fired  Prince  Rupert  at  the  time  of  Rupert's  death  the  Com- 
with  his  project  of  founding*  a  great  fur-  pany  did  not  possess  more  than  a  singla 
traffic  in  the  unknown  and  unexplored  fort  or  trading-  post.  It  was  well  known 
regions  ofthe  New  World.  The  prince  that  his  Highness  favoured  greater 
had  lived  to  see  that  project  succL>ed  activity,  and  one  of  his  la-t  acts  had 
even  beyond  his  most  sanguine  expecta-  been  to  sign  the  commission  of  John 
tions.  Now,  at  his  death,  the  Company  Bridgar  as  Governor  of  the  new  sei  tie- 
owned  four  ships;  and  after  all  the  ment  at  Fort  Nelson.  It  appeared  as  if 
cost  of  its  plant,  its  ships  and  its  ex-  the  Adventurers  had  only  wailed  for 
penses  had  been  paid,  it  was  returning  the  advent  of  the  new  retfime  to  pursue 
a  profit  of  three  hundred  per  cent,  on  a  more  vigorous  and  enterprising  plan 
its  capital.  The  extent  to  which  this  of  commerce, 
profit  might  have  been  increased  had  a         Under  date  of  April  37th, 


:y  Google 


find  the  following  instructions  addres- 
sed to  Henry  Sargent,  regarding  trade 
with  the  interior:  "  You  are  to  choose 
out  from  amongst  our  servants  such  as 
are  best  qualified  with  strength  of  body 
and  the  country  laaguage  to  travel  and 
to  penetrate  into  the  country,  and  to 
draw  down  the  Indians  by  fair  and 
gentle  means  to  trade  with  us." 

But  the  Compaay  was  to  learn  that 
the  parsimony  which  then  characterized 
its  policy  was  not  calculated  to  foster 
the  success  of  its  aims.  -  The  majority 
of  the  men  it  sent  out  from  England 
could  not  be  classiiied  under  the  head  of 
adventurous  spirits,  ready  to  dare  all 
for  mere  excitement  and  the  prospect 
of  gain.  They  were  for  the  most  part 
young  men  gifted  with  no  more  apti- 
tude for  the  work  in  the  wilderness 
than  a  disinclination  to  pursue  their 
callings  at  home.  No  small  number 
were  dissatisfied  apprentices ;  one 
William  Evans  had  been  a  drawer  at 
the  Rainbow  Inn  ;  Hr.  Portman  him- 
self had  sent  his  scullion. 

Even  at  that  early  day  the  staffs 
employed  on  the  plantations  were  re- 
cruited from  amongst  the  very  class 
least  competent  to  exploit  those  regi- 
ons. The  majority  of  the  applicants 
for  employment  in  the  Company's  ser- 
vice in  the  seventeenth  century  were 
not  men  of  character  and  vigour,  or 
even  of  robust  physique,  but  rather 
hare-brained  artisans  of  the  mild,  dare< 
devil  type,  whose  parents  and  friends 
foresaw,  if  London  or  Bristol  formed 
the  sphere  of  their  talents,  a  legal  and 
violent  rather  than  a  natural  termina- 
tion of  their  respective  careers. 

Sargeant's  response  to  the  foregoing 
injunction  certainly  served  to  enlighten 
his  superiors.  "  I  shall  not  be  neg- 
lectful," he  wrote,  "  as  soon  as  1  can 
find  any  man  capable  and  willing  to 
send  up  into  the  country  with  the  In- 
dians, to  endeavour  to  penetrate  into 
what  the  country  will  and  may  produce, 
and  to  effect  their  utmost  in  bring- 
ing down  the  Indians  to  our  factory  ; 
but  your  Honours  should  give  good 
encourag'ement  to  those  who  un- 
dertake such  extraordinary  service  ;  or 
else  I  fear  that  there  will  be   but  few 

that  will  embrace  such  employment." 

The  rebuke  was  just ;  but  it  seems 
to  have  given  offence  to  some  of  the 
more  pompous  members  of  the  Com- 
pany ;  and  Sargeant  was  desired 
not  to  cast  any  further  reflection  on 
his  employers  in  his  communications 
to  them.  Nevertheless,  the  Company 
was  soon  to  learn  the  value  of  a  less 
nig^gBi'dly  policy. 

Ait  the  new  settlement  on  Nelson 
River  events  were  happening,  which 
were  to  decide,  temporarily  at  least, 
the  sovereignty  of  that  part  of  the 

For  ten  days  the  two  ex-employees, 
Radisson  and  Groseilliers  gave  no 
further  evidence  to  the  English  of  their 
presence.  But  on  the  tenth  day  their 
curiosity  and  uneasiness  regarding  the 
conduct  of  the  English  Governor, 
Bridgar,  and  the  other  servants  of  the 
Company,  had  reached  such  a  pitch 
that  it  was  decided  without  further 
consideration  that  Radisson  should 
start  off  at  once  to  reconnoitre  their 
behaviour.  The  actual  distance  be- 
tween Port  Bourbon,  on  the  Hays 
River,  and  the  Company's  factory  on 
Nelson  River  was  not  above  fifty  miles; 
but  owing  to  the  dangerous  character 
of  the  river,  and  the  necessity  for  delay 
before  an  attempt  could  be  made  to 
cross  it,  Radisson  and  his  parly  con- 
sumed fourteen  days  on  the  journey. 

On  their  arrival  on  the  3rd  of  Feb- 
ruary one  of  the  first  objects  to  attract 
their  attention  was  Xhx  Prince  Rupert, 
stuck  fast  in  the  ice  and  mud 
about  a  mile  from  where  the  factory 
was  being  erected.  At  the  same  time 
they  met  the  Governor,  who  was  out 
on  a  hunting  expedition  with  the  chief 
mate  of  the  vessel.  Satisfying  himself 
that  no  treachery  was  intended  Radis- 
son accepted  Bridgar's  invitation  to 
enter  the  log-house  which  he  had 
caused  to  be  built  for  his  own  occu- 
pancy. Radisson  introduced  one  of  the 
Frenchmen  who  accompanied  him  as  the 
captain  of  an  imaginary  ship,  which 
he  averred  had  arrived  from  France  in 
his  behalf.  "Mr.  B.  believed  it  and 
anything  else  1  chose  to  tell  him,"  re- 
marks Radisson  naively,  "  I  aiming  al- 


:y  Google 


ways  to  prevent  bim  from  having  aoy 
knowledge  of  the  English  interloper." 
White  engaged  in  the  pleasing  diver- 
sion of  drinking  each  other's  healths,  a 
number  of  musket  shots  were  fired. 
The  crew  of  the  vessel  not  taking  any 
notice  of  this,  the  bushranger  con* 
eluded  that  those  on  board  were  not 
on  their  guard  and  might  readily  be 

With  this  condition  uppermost  in 
his  mind,  the  Frenchman  quitted 
Bridgar,  having  fint  allayed  any  sus- 
picion  which  might  have  naturally 
arisen  as  to  the  intention  of  the  party. 
The  latter  went  boldly  on  board  the 
ship,  and  no  hindrance  being  offered 
their  leader  had  a  colloquy  with  Cap- 
t^n  Gillam.  This  worthy,  who  while  he 
received  the  visit  civilly  enough,  yet 
found  occasion  to  let  Radisson  know 
that  he  was  far  from  entirely  trusting 
him.  When  his  visitor  suggested  that 
he  was  running  a  great  risk  in  allowing 
the  Prince  Rupert  to  remain  grounded, 
Gil  lam  bluntly  requested  Radisson  to 
mind  his  own  business,  adding  that  he 
knew  perfectly  well  what  he  was  doing 
— a  boast  which,  as  the  sequel  showed, 
was  certainly  not  well  founded.  Ra- 
disson was  determined  not  to  be  put 
out  of  temper,  and  so,  run  risk  of  spoil- 
ing his  plans. 

Winter,  even  in  all  its  rigour,  seems 
to  have  had  no  terrors  for  our  indomi- 
table bushranger.  For  the  next  two 
months,  as  we  shall  relate,  he  continued 
to  scour  backwards  and  forwards 
through  this  country,  inspiring  his  fol- 
lowers and  urging  them  onward  to  the 
prosecution  of  a  plan  which  was  obvious 
to  them  all.  Parting  from  Gillam  the 
elderj  who  had  not  the  faintest  suspi- 
cion that  his  son  was  in  the  locality, 
Radisson  at  once  started  to  parley  with 
Gillam,  the  younger. 

When  he  had  gained  the  island 
where  he  had  left  he  was  instantly 
made  aware  that  the  New  Englanders 
had  been  considerably  les.s  idle  than 
the  Company's  servants  ;  having 
completed  a  very  creditable  fort  and 
mounted  it  with  six  pieces  of  cannon. 
With  Benjamin  Gillam,  our  bushranger 
passed  off  the  same  subterfuge   with 

which  he  had  hoodwinked  Zachary. 
He  spoke  fluently  of  his  newly  arrived 
ship  and  her  cargo  and  crew,  and  to 
cap  his  narrative  proceeded  to  intro- 
duce her  captain,  who  was  none  other 
than  the  old  pilot,  Pierre  Allemand, 
who,  from  the  description  I  have  of  ■ 
his  appearance,  looked  every  inch  the 
bold,  fierce  and  uncompromising 
mariner.  He  had  a  great  deal  to  tell 
Benjamin  likewise  of  the  Company's 
post  near  by,  which  he  sai4  contained 
forty  soldiers. 

"  Let  them  be  forty  devils,"  ex- 
claimed Gillam,  junior,  **  we  have  built 
a  good  fort  and  are  afraid  of  noth- 

Whereupon  Radisson  gently  remind- 
ed him  that  according  to  his  agreement 
he  was  to  have  built  no  fort  whatever. 
In  reply  to  this  Benjamin  begged  his 
visitor  not  to  take  umbrage  at  such  a 
matter,  as  he  never  intended  to  dispute 
the  rights  of  the  French  in  the  region, 
and  that  the  fort  was  merely  intended 
as  a  defence  against  the  Indians. 

As  the  evening  wore  on,  a  manoeuvre 
suggested  itself  to  Radisson,  He  re- 
solved to  bring  father  and  son  together. 
No  sooner  had  he  formed  this  amiable 
resolve  than  he  revealed  to  Benjamin 
Gillam  the  proximity  of  the  Prince  Ru- 
pert and  her  commander,  and  described 
the  means  by  which  an  encounter 
might  be  effected  without  eliciting  the 
suspicions  of  Governor  Bridgar  or  any 
of  the  Company's  servants.  It  con- 
sisted briefly  in  young  Benjamin's  dis- 
guising himself  as  a  Frenchman  and  a 
bushranger.  The  scheme  met  with  the 
young  man's  hearty  approbation  and 
the  details  were  settled  as  Radisson 
had  designed. 

On  the  following  day  the  party  set 
out  through  the  snow.  Arriving  at 
the  point  on  land  opposite  to  which  the 
Company's  ship  lay,  Radisson  posted 
two  of  his  best  men  in  the  woods  on 
the  path  which  led  to  the  factory.  He 
instructed  them  to  allow  the  Governor  to 
pass  should  he  come  that  way,  but  that 
if  he  returned  from  the  ship  unaccom- 
panied or  prior  to  their  own  departure 
they  were  to  seize  and  overpower  him 
on  the  spot.     With  such  precautions 


:y  Google 


as  these  Radisson  felt  himself  safe  and 
went  on  board  the  Prince  Rupert 
accompanied  by  Gillam.  He  introduced 
his  two  companions  into  the  captain's 
Foom  without  any  notice  on  the  part 
of  Gillam  the  elder,  and  the  mate 
'and  another  man  he  had  with  him. 
Leaning  across  the  table,  upon  which 
was  deposited  a  bulky  bottle  of  rum, 
Radisson  whispered  to  the  honest  cap- 
tain that  he  had  a  secret  ot  the  highest 
importance  to  communicate  if  he  would 
but  dismiss  the  others.  Gillam  readily 
sent  away  the  mate,  but  would  not  dis- 
miss his  second  attendant  until  Radis- 
son, again  in  a  whisper,  informed  him 
that  the  black- bearded  man  in  the 
strange  head-gear  was  his  son. 

After  communicating  this  intelligence 
the  pair  had  their  own  way.  The  next 
few  moments  were  devoted  to  embraces 
and  to  an  interchange  of  news,  for 
Captain  Gillam  and  Benjamin  had  not 
met  for  two  years.  The  sire  could  not 
refrain  from  imparting  to  his  son  that 
he  was  running  a  great  risk  ;  he  de- 
clared it  would  be  ruinous  to  him  if  it 
got  to  the  Governor's  ears  that  there 
was  any  collusion  between  them. 
RacUsson  again  professed  his  friend- 
ship, but  added  that  in  his  opinion 
neither  of  the  parties  had  any  right  to 
be  where  they  were,  he  having  taken 
possession  for  the  King  of  France. 
"  This  territory  is  all  His  Most 
Christian  Majesty's,"  he  said.  "The 
fort  we  have  built  yonder  we  call  Fort 
Bourbon,  and  none  have  any  right 
here  but  such  as  own  allegiance  to 
Louis  XIV."  He  observed  that  nothing 
would  cause  a  rupture  of  the  friendly 
relations  now  subsisting  between 
French  and  English  but  that  trade  in 
peltries,  trade  which  he  had  too  great 
reason  to  fear  they  hoped  to  initiate 
with  the  Indians  in  the  spring. 

Thereupon  the  elder  Gillam  coolly  re- 
sponded that  the  ship  he  commanded, 
and  the  spot  on  which  they  were  then 
assembled,  belonged  not  to  himself, 
but  to  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company. 

"  With  regard  to  the  trade,  gentle- 
men," said  he,  "you  have  nothing  to 
fear  from  me.  Even  though  I  don't 
carry   a  solitary   beaver   back  to   the 

Thames,  1  shall  not  trouble  myself, 
being  sure  of  my  wages." 

This  interview  was  prolonged.  The 
healths  of  the  Kings  of  France  and 
England,  Prince  Rupert  and  M.  Colbert 
(quite  in  ignorance  of  the  deaths  of  the 
two  last  named)  were  drunk  with  zeal 
and  enthusiasm.  In  the  midst  of  all 
this,  that  which  Radisson  had  antici- 
pated, occurred.  Governor  Bridgar, 
notified  of  Radisson's  return,  came  to 
the  ship  in  hot  haste.  On  his  joining 
the  group  he  remarked  meaningly  that 
the  I'ort  the  French  had  constructed 
must  be  nearer  than  he  had  been  given 
to  think,  since  its  commandant  could 
effect  so  speedy  a  return.  He  evinced 
himself  very  uneasy  in  mind  concerning 
the  Frenchman's  intentions.  Before 
their  departure,  young  Gillam  came 
very  near  being  betrayed.  He  was 
partially  recognized  by  one  of  the 
traders  who  accompanied  the  Governor. 
But  the  matter  passed  off  withoutserious 

None  too  soon  did  the  party  return 
to  young  Gillam's  fort  on  the  island, 
for  a  tremendous  blizzard  ensued, 
sweepingthe  who[ecountry,and  forcing 
Radisson  to  remain  for  some  days  with- 
in doors.  As  soon  as  the  storm  had 
subsided,  however,  Radisson  started 
off.declining  Gillam's  offer  of  his  second 
mate  to  accompany  him  back  to  the 
French  settlement. 

"  I  managed  to  dissuade  him,"  he 
writes,  "  having  my  reasons  for  wish- 
ing to  conceal  the  road  we  should  take. 
On  leaving  we  went  up  from  the  fort  to 
the  upper  part  of  the  river,  but  in  the 
evening  we  retraced  our  steps  and  next 
morning  found  ourselves  in  sight  of  the 
sea  into  which  it  was  necessary  toenter 
in  order  to  pass  the  point  and  reach 
the  river  in  which  was  our  habitation. 
But  everything  was  so  covered  with  ice 
that  there  was  no  apparent  way  of  pass- 
ing further.  We  found  ourselves,  in- 
deed, so  entangled  in  the  ice  that  we 
could  neither  retreat  nor  advance  to- 
wards the  shore  to  make  a  landing. 
It  was  necessary,  however,  that  we 
should  pass  through  the  ice  or  perish. 
We  remained  in  this  condition  for  four 
hours  without  being  able  to  advance  or 


:y  Google 


retire  and  in  great  danger  of  our  lives. 
Our  cli>thes  were  frozen  on  us  and  we 
conld  only  move  with  difficulty,  but  at 
last  we  made  so  strong  an  attempt  that 
we  arrived  at  the  shore,  our  canoe 
being  all  broken  up.  Each  of  us  took 
our  baggage  and  arms  and  marched  in 
the  direction  of  our  habitation,  without 
finding  anything  to  eat  for  three  days 
except  crows  and  birds  of  prey,  which 
are  the  last  to  leave  these  countries." 
Fort  Bourbon  was  reached  at  length. 
After  reporting  to  his  brother-in-law  all 
that  had  passed,  Groseitliers  was  not 
long  in  counselling  what  was  best  lobe 
done.  In  his  opinion  the  first  thing 
necessary  was  to  secure  possession  of 
young  Giilam's  ship.  Time  pressed 
and  the  spring  would  soon  be  upon  them 
bringing  with  it  the  Indians.  He  argued 
that  delay  might  prove  fatal,  inasmuch 
as  Bridgar  might  at  any  moment  learn 
of  the  presence  of  the  New  England  in- 
terlopers ;  and  in  that  event  he  would 
probably  make  an  effort  to  capture 
their  fort  and  add  their  forces  to  his 
own.  If  this  were  done,  the  success  of 
the  French  in  overpowering  the  English 
traders  would  be  slight  and  their  voy- 
age would  have  been  undertaken  for 

It  was  therL-fore  agreed  that  Groseil- 
tiers  should  remain  in  charge  of  the 
fort,  while  his  kinsman  should  im- 
mediately return  to  Nelson  River.  In 
a  few  days  they  parted  once  more, 
Radisson  setting  out  with  a  fresh  party 
and  thoroughly  resolved  upon  action. 
The  first  discovery  he  made,  on  arriving 
at  the  scene  of  his  proposed  operations, 
was  that  the  Company's  ship,  the 
Prince  Rupert,  was  frozen  fast  in  the 
ice,  and  must  inevitably  perish  when 
the  spring  floods  came.  He  also  speed- 
ily ascertained  that  (he  Governor,  by 
no  means  relishing  his  presence  in  the 
vicinity,  was  already  planning  measures 
to  thwart,  if  not  to  capture,  his  rivals, 
for  he  had  sent  out  two  sailors  charged 
with  the  task  of  discovering  the  exact 
whereabouts  of  the  French  and  the  ex- 
tent of  their  strength  and  equipment. 

These  two  spies  Radisson  promptly 
captured— no  difficult  task  indeed,  for 
they  had  lost  their  way  and  were  half- 

frozen  and  almost  famished.  The  an- 
ticipated  fate  of  the  Prince  Rupert  was 
not  long  delayed.  The  tidings  shortly 
reached  Radisson  that  she  was  a  total 
wreck,  and  with  it  came  also  the  news 
of  the  loss  of  her  captain,  the  mate  and 
four  sailors.  A  subsequent  report,  how- 
ever, declared  that  Gillman  had.  escaped 
with  his  life. 

Receiving  this  intelligence,  Radisson 
presented  himself  before  the  Governor 
to  see  how  he  was  affected  by    such  a 



He  found  Bridgar  drinking  heavily, 
but  resolved  to  keep  up  appearances  and 
to  withhold  from  theFrenchany  knowl- 
edge of  what  had  happened.  He 
affected  to  believe  the  ship  safe,  mere- 
ly observing  that  she  had  shifted  her 
position  a  few  leagues  down  the  river. 
Radisson  asserts  that  at  this  time  the 
Company's  factory  was  short  of  pro- 
visions. It  is  impossible  (hat  this 
could  have  been  the  case.  The  assertion 
was  probably  made  to  cover  his  own 
depredations  on  the  stores  of  the  Com- 

Parting  from  the  Governor,  Radis- 
son presented  himself  before  Gillam  the 
younger,  to  whom  he  did  not  as  yet 
choose  tt)  say  anything  concerning  his 
father  and  the  loss  of  his  ship.  Under 
various  pretences  he  induced  Gillam  to 
pay  him  a  visit  at  Fort  Bourbon. 
The  latter  does  not  seem  at  this  time 
to  have  been  aware  of  the  intention  of 
the  French  towards  him.  But  he  was 
soon  to  be  undeceived. 

"I  remained  quiet  for  a  month,"  says 
Radisson,  in  the  course  of  his  extra- 
ordinary narrative,  "  treating  young 
Gillam,  my  new  guest,  well  anri  with  all 
sorts  of  civilities,  which  he  abused  on 
several  occasions.  For  having  appar- 
ently perceived  that  »e  had  not  the 
strength  1  told  him,  he  took  the  liberty 
of  speaking  of  me  in  threatening  terms 
behind  my  back,  treating  me  as  a 
pirate  and  saying  that,  in  spite  of  me, 
he  would  trade  in  spring  with  the 
Indians.  He  had  even  the  hardihood 
to  strike  one  of  my  men  which  I 
pretended  not  to  notice  ;  but,  having 
the  insolence  later  when  we  were  dis- 
cussing the  privileges  of  New  England 




to  speak  against  the  respect  due  the 
best  of  kings,  1  treated  him  as  a 
worthless  dog  for  speaking  in  that 
way  and  totd  him  that,  having  had 
the  honour  to  eat  bread  in  his  service, 
I  would  pray  to  God  ail  my  life  for 
His  Majesty.  He  left  me,  threatening 
that  he  would  return  to  his  fort  and 
that  when  he  was  there  I  would  not 
dare  to  speak  to  him  as  I  had  done. 
I  could  not  expect  to  have  a  better 
opportunity  to  begin  what  1  had  re- 
solved to  do.  1  lold  this  young  brute 
then  that  I  had  brought  him  from  his 
fort,  that  I  would  take  him  back 
myself  when  1  pleased,  not  when  he 
wished.  He  answered  impertinently 
several  times,  which  obliged  me  to 
threaten  that  I  would  put  him  in 
a  place  of  safety  if  he  was  not  wiser. 
He  asked  me  then  if  he  was  a  prisoner. 
I  said  1  would  consider  it  and  that  1  ' 
would  secure  my  trade  since  he  had 
threatened  to  interrupt  it.  I  then 
withdrew  to  give  him  time  to  be  in- 
formed by  the  Englishmen  how  his 
father's  loss  was  lost  with  the  Com- 
pany's ship  and  the  bad  situation  of 
Mr.  Bridgar.  1  left  in  their  company  a 
Frenchman  who  understood  English 
unknown  to  them.  When  1  had  left 
young  Gillam  urged  the  Englishman 
to  fly  and  to  go  to  his  master  and 
assure  him  that  he  would  give  him  six 
barrels  of  powder  and  other  supplies  if 
he  would  undertake  to  deliver  him  out 
of  my  hands.  The  Englishman  made 
no  answer,  but  he  did  not  inform  me 
of  the  proposition  that  had  been  made 
him  (I  had  learned  that  from  the 
Frenchman  who  had  learned  every, 
thing  and  thought  it  was  time  to  act 
for  my  security.) " 

In  the  evening  Radisson  said  nothing 
of  what  he  knew  of  the  plot.  He 
asked  those  in  his  train  if  the  muskets 
were  in  their  places  which  he  had  put 
around  to  act  as  guarantee  against 
surprise.  At  the  word  tnusket  young 
Gillam,  who  did  not  know  what  was 
meant,  grew  alarmed  and,  according 
to  Radisson,  wished  to  fly,  believing 
that  it  was  intended  to  kill  him.  But 
his  flight  was  arrested  by  his  captor 
who  took   occasion  to  free  him  from 

his  apprehension.  The  next  momtDg, 
however,  the  bushranger's  plans  were 
openly  divulged.  He  told  Gillam  that 
he  was  about  to  take  his  fort  and  ship. 

"  He  answered  haughtily  that  even 
if  1  had  a  hundred  men  I  could  not 
succeed  and  that  his  people  would  have 
killed  more  than  forty  before  they 
could  reach  the  palisades.  This  bold- 
ness did  not  astonish  me,  being  very 
sure  that  I  would  succeed  in  my  de- 

Having  secured  Gillam  the  younger,- 
it  was  now  necessary  to  secure  the 
fort  of  which  he  was  master.  The 
intrepid  Frenchman  started  for  Hayes 
Island  with  nine  men,  and,  gaining  an 
entrance  by  strategy,  he  cast  oflF  the 
mask  of  friendship  and  boldly  demand- 
ed the  keys  of  the  fort  and  the  whole 
stock  of  arms  and  powder.  He  added 
that  in  the  event  of  their  refusal  to  yield 
he  would  raze  the  fort  to  the  ground. 
No  resistance  seems  to  have  been 
attempted,  and  Radisson  took  formal 
possession  of  the  place  in  the  name  of 
the  King  of  France.  This  ceremony 
being  concluded,  he  ordered  Jenkins, 
the  mate,  to  conduct  him  to  the  ship, 
and  here  formal  possession  was  taken 
in  the  same  fashion,  without  any 
forcible  objection  on  the  part  of  the 
crew.  Some  explanation  of  this  ex- 
traordinary complaisance,  if  Radisson's 
story  ,of  the  number  of  men  lie  took 
with  him  be  true,  may  be  found  in  the 
commander's  unpopularity,  he  having 
recently  killed  his  supercargo  in  a 

Nevertheless  Benjamin  Gillam  was 
not  to  be  altogether  without  friends. 

A  certain  Scotchman,  perchance  the 
first  of  his  race  in  those  regions,  which 
were  afterwards  to  be  forever  associ- 
ated with  Scottish  zeal  and  labours, 
wishing  to  show  his  fidelity  to  his 
chief,  escaped  and  eluding  the  efforts 
of  Radisson's  fleetest  bushrangers  to 
catch  him,  arrived  at  Fort  Nelson  and 
told  his  tale.  The  Governor's  astonish- 
ment may  be  imagined.  He  had 
hitherto  no  inkling  of  the  presence  of 
the  New  England  interlopers,  and 
although  his  captain  and  fellow-servant 
was  not  equally  ignorant  Gillam   had 


:y  Google 


kept  his  counsel  well.  The  Governor 
decided  at  once  to  head  a  party  of  relief, 
in  which  he  was  seconded  t^  Gillam 
p&re,  who  was  at  the  moment  only  just 
recovering  from  an  illness  caused  by 
exposure  during  the  shipwreck.  The 
Susan  was  their  first  point  of  attack. 
Under  the  cover  of  nig'ht  they  made  a 
determined  effort  to  recapture  her  for 
theCompany — an  attempt  which  might 
have  succeeded  bad  not  Radisson, 
suspecting  the  move,  despatched  his 
entire  available  lorce  at  the  same  time 
and  completely  overpowered  the  Gov- 
emor's  men.  He  thought  at  first  sight 
that  Bridgar  himself  was  among  his 
prisoners,  but  the  Governor  was  not 
to  be  caught  in  that  fashion  ;  he  had 
not  himself  boarded  the  ship.  The 
Scotchman  who  accompanied  him, 
however,  was  not  so  fortunate  ;  he  fell 
into  Radisson's  hands  and  suffered  for 
his  zeal.  He  was  tied  to  a  post  and 
informed  that  his  execution  would  take 
placewithout  ceremony  on  the  morrow. 
The  sentence  was  never  carried  out. 
Radisson,  after  exposing  his  prisoner 
to  the  cold  all  night  in  an  uncomfort- 
able  position,  seems  to  have  thought 
better  of  his  threat,  and  after  numer- 
ous vicissitudes  the  Scot  at  length  re- 
gained his  liberty. 

Reinforcements  for  the  French  now 
arrived  from  Groseilliers.  Believ- 
ing himself  now  strong  enough  to 
beard  the  lion  in  his  lair,  Radisson  de- 

cided to  lose  no  more  time  in  rounding 
off  his  schemes.  First,  however,  he 
saw  fit  to  address  a  letter  to  the  Gov- 
ernor asking  him  if  he  "  approved  the 
action  of  the  Company's  people  whom 
he  held  prisoners,  who  had  broken  two 
doors  and  the  storeroom  of  his  ship,  io 
order  to  carry  off  the  powder." 

Bridgar's  reply  was  that  he  owed  no 
explanation  to  a  renegade  employ^  of 
the  Company.  Radisson  had  not  been 
sincere  in  his  professions,  and  he  had 
dealt  basely  and  deceitfully  with  him 
in  preserving  silence  on  the  subject  of 
the  interlopers.  "As  I  had  proper  in- 
structions," concluded  Bridgar,  in  a 
more  conciliatory  strain,  "on  setting 
sail  from  London  to  seize  all  ships 
coming  to  this  quarter,  I  would  willing- 
ly have  joined  hands  with  you  in  cap- 
turing this  vessel.  '  If  you  wish  me  to 
regard  you  as  sincere  you  will  not  keep 
this  prize  for  your  own  use." 

The  other's  response  was  rapid  and 
masterly.  He  marched  upon  Fort 
Nelson  with  twelve  men,  and  by  the 
following  nightfall  was  master  of  the 
English  establishment.  This  feat  near- 
ly drove  the  unhappy  Governor  to  de- 
spair, and  he  sought  solace  by  apply- 
ing himself  to  the  rum  cask  with  even 
greater  assiduity.  In  this  frame  of 
mind  John  Brlgdar,  the  first  Governor 
of  Port  Nelson  was  carried  off  a  prisoner 
to  Fort  Bourbon. 

To  be  Continued. 


pOREVER  in  the  veiled  t 

The  land  of  Hope,  secure  from  mortal  eyes  ; 
While  in  the  new-made  grave  of  yesterday 
Some  dear  delusion  reverently  we  lay. 

Bradford  K.  Daniels. 

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TO  a  certain  extent  it  is  true  that 
the  current  novel  findt<  its  .sup- 
port chiefly  among  that  class  of  (he 
public  which  has  received  no  training  in 
thi  higher  branches  of  literature. 
Those  who  have,  at  one  time  or  another 
during  a  university  course  or  a  long 
period  of  private  but  thorough  study, 
made  an  examination  of  the  masters  of 
ancient  and  modern  literature  and  come 
to  have  some  idea  of  the  value  of 
thought  and  of  style,  And  their  greatest 
pleasure  in  the  older  novelists  or  in  the 
great  historians  and  essayists. 

An  illustration  of  this  was  provided 
for  me  recently.  Six  men  of  education 
and  culture  were  taking  dinner  in  a 
private  room  in  a  city  restaurant.  The 
conversation  turned  on  to  the  current 
novel  and  its  value.  Finally,  some  one 
suggested  that  each  person  write  the 
□ames  of  his  five  favourite  English 
authors  on  a  slip  of  paper  and  hand 
It  to  one  of  the  men  for  examina- 
tion. The  Bible  and  Shakespeare  were 
barred.  When  the  result  was  summed 
up  the  vote  stood  as  follows  :  Scott,  4 
votes;  Carlyle,  Dickens  and  Kipling,  3 
each  ;  Macaulay,  Parkman,  Thackeray 
and  Ruskin,  2  each  ;  Eliot,  Pope, 
Leckie,  Stevenson,  Browning,  Tenny- 
son. Goldsmith  and  Arnold  one  each. 
There  were  thirty  votes  cast,  and  six- 
teen authors  mentioned. 

There  are  several  thousand  new 
books  printed  each  year  in  the  L  nglish 
language  which  may  be  expected  to  be 
of  interest  to  the  general  reader.  Here 
was  a  body  of  six  men  with  a  full 
knowledge  of  all  the  more  important 
of  the  books  published  during  the 
last  five  years,  who  calmly  stated  that 
none  of  the  current  books  except  those 
of  Kipling  and  Stevenson  have  proved 
themselves  worthy  of  their  admiration. 
No    mention    was    made   of   Anthony 


Hope,  Marion  Crawford,  Gilbert  Par- 
ker, Robert  Barr,  Richard  Harding 
Davis,  Frank  R.  Stockton,  Justin 
McCarthy,  J.  M.  Barrie,  Hall  Caine, 
William  Black,  Mrs.  Humphrey  Ward, 
Francis  Hodgson  Burnett,  James  Lane 
Allen,  Harold  Frederic,  Conan  Doyle, 
Stanley  J.  Weyman,  Thomas  Hardy, 
George  Du  Maurier,  William  Dean 
Howells,  or  the  score  of  other  familiar 
names  of  the  last  few  years — only 
Kipling  and  Stevenson.  Yet  of  all 
these  persons  who  were  ignored  by 
these  six  self- appointed  critics,  most 
have  at  one  time  or  another  shown 
signs  of  genius.  Why  should  these  cri- 
tics treat  them  only  as  favourites  for  an 

Perhaps  an  explanation  may  be  found 
in  the  character  of  the  men  themselves. 
The  educated  Canadian  is  conservative. 
Before  acknowledging  anything  to  be 
pure  gold,  he  must  have  seen  it  tried  in 
the  Are.  He  prefers  the  book  which  has 
weathered  the  criticisms  of  half  a  cen- 
tury to  that  which  is  new  and  untested. 
Yet  this  rule  applied  absolutely  would 
have  barred  Kipling  and  Stevenson,  for 
they  are  modern 

Another  explanation  may  be  offered. 
The  modern  publisher  publishes  a  cer> 
tain  Dumber  of  books  each  year,  the 
number  determined  by  his  capital  and 
the  means  of  sale  at  his  disposal. 
When  a  clever  writer  makes  his  mark, 
the  publisher  rushes  him  for  another 
manuscript  and  another,  and  another. 
The  managers  of  magazines  deluge  him 
with  offers  for  articles  and  essays  and 
short  stories.  These  men  hang  bags 
of  gold  before  the  budding  author's 
eyes  and  cry:  "Write;  write;  write." 
Human  nature  is  weak  ;  the  man  stops 
thinking  and  devotes  his  whole  energy 
to  writing.  Verily,  we  throttle  our 
geniuses  in  their  childhood. 

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If  this  tatter  explanation  be  the 
true  one,  and  it  seems  plausible, 
wherein  lies  tiie  value  of  current  criti- 
cism ?  There  is  a  g;reat  deal  of  criti- 
cism, and  why  does  it  allow  the  mod- 
em novelist  or  g'eneral  writer  to  foist 
weak  "  stuff  "  upon  the  public  P  In  the 
first  place,  the  critic  cannot  reach  the 
public.  The  publisher  advertises  to 
the  public  and  makes  it  listen  ;  the 
publisher  gives  only  the  rosy  side,  and 
is  the  only  guide  which  the  averag'c 
reader  has.  The  critic  speaks  in  lit- 
erary papers,  and  the  higher-class  peri- 
odicals. The  average  reader  never 
sees  these  criticisms.  Only  those,  of 
whom  these  six  men  mentioned  are 
representatives,  who  thoroughly  an- 
alyze the  books  they  read,  consult 
these  criticisms.  The  critic  has  some 
influence  then,  but  it  is  limited  to  a 
small  part  of  the  great  body  of  book- 

But  the  critic  is  still  further  limited. 
He  writes  for  literary  papers  whose  ex- 
istence depends  on  the  advertisements 
of  the  publishers.  He  is  "  cabin'd 
cribb'd,  confin'd. "  He  cannot  always 
speak  his  mind.  Were  he  to  condemn 
everything  that  a.  publisher  issues, 
what  would  be  the  benefit  to  the  pub- 
lishers of  an  advertisement  iu  the  jour- 
nal in  which  the  criticisms  appear  P 
The  critic  may  be  capable  and  he  may 
be  honest,  but  he  must  make  a  living. 
Further,  he  must  be  a  man  of  great 
strength  of  mind  and  extraordinary 
steadfastness  of  purpose,  who  will 
stand  up  and  say  of  ninety  per  cent, 
of  the  modern  pieces  of  general  litera- 
ture that  they  are  crude,  hasty  and 
amateurish.  Even  if  he  did  nay 
this,  there  would  be  many  who  would 

Further,  the  critics  seem  to  have 
formed  cliques.  In  New  York  there 
is  a  certain  circle,  to  get  into  which 
means  success,  ^o  far  as  the  critics  can 
assure  it.  The  same  is  true  of  London, 
if  all  the  independent  evidence  offered 
may  be  relied  upon. 

The  conditions  surrounding  modern 
criticism  are,  therefore,  prejudicial  to 
the  fullest  and  treest  discussion  for 
three  reasons  (to  sum   up)  :  first,  be- 

cause the  critic  cannot  reach  but  a 
small  part  of  the  public  ;  secondly,  be- 
cause he  is  at  the  mercy  of  powerful 
printing  and  publishing  interests  ;  and 
thirdly,  because  he  himself  is  not  al- 
ways thoroughly  reliable. 

But  to  return  to  the  main  point  un- 
der consideration,  it  may  safely  be  said 
that  in  spite  of  the  verdict  of  the  six 
aforesaid  gentlemen,  in  spite  of  the 
selfishness  and  cupidity  of  the  publish- 
er, and  in  spite  of  the  human  weak- 
nesses of  the  author  and  the  critic,  the 
average  current  book  is  of  consider- 
able value  and  the  discriminating 
reader  is  not  wholly  wasting  his  time. 
The  novels  of  Parker  and  Roberts 
have  stimulated  many  Canadians  to 
read  Canadian  history,  and  to  observe 
and  study  the  curiosities  of  our  civili- 
zation. Barr's  stories  have  amused  and 
pleased  a  great  many  persons,  and  that 
is  something  in  these  worrying  days. 
So  it  may  be  said  of  the  other  modern 
writers,  that  each  has  done  some  small 
part  in  elevating  the  Anglo-Saxon  race. 
A  person  may  read  new  books  and  be 
benefited  if,  as  has  been  intimated,  he 
selects  his  authors  with  some  discrim- 

If,  as  some  authorities  claim,  all  pure 
literature  is  the  revelation  of  a  person- 
ality, we  must  go  on  reading  what  mod- 
ern litterateurs  produce  if  we  wish  to  ap- 
preciate their  respective  personal  qual- 
ities. If  we  had  read  Archibald  Lamp- 
man'S  poetry  anonymously  we  should 
have  had  much  less  pleasure  than  was 
afforded  us  by  reading  it  bit  by  bit  over 
his  name.  In  the  latter  case,  what 
we  had  previously  read,  what  we  al- 
ready knew  of  the  man,  his  environ- 
ment and  his  aims,  helped  us  to  under- 
stand his  work.  A  knowledge  of  his 
personality  added  something  to  what 
we  saw  on  the  printed  page,  gave  more 
strength  to  his  imagery,  and  shed  a 
stronger  light  on  the  thoughts  which 
were  so  magnificently  expressed.  In 
the  introduction  of  his  book  on  Shelley, 
Professor  Alexander  points  out  that 
"to  an  even  greater  degree  than  usual, 
some  knowledge  of  the  man  is  neces- 


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sary  for  the  UDderstaading  of  his  writ- 

But  Matthew  Arnold  cuts  deeper 
than  this  in  hiii  analysis.  He  admits 
that  Shakespeare's  greatness  was  due 
to  his  personality.  Then  he  goes  far- 
ther, and  declares  that  Shakespeare 
"lived  in  a  current  of  ideas  in  the 
highest  degree  animating  and  nourish- 
ing to  the  creative  power,"  and  that 
the  society  in  which  he  moved  was 
"permeated   by  fresh   thought,  inielli- 

fent  and  alive."  Environment,  in  its 
roadtst  sense,  must  certainly  have 
much  influence  upon  the  men  who 
write,  and  by  a  study  of  the  writings 
of  the  moderns  we  learn  something  of 
the  age  in  which  we  live.  Surely,  here 
is  justification. 

Current  literature  puts  down  in  black 
and  white  the  manners  and  customs  of 
to-day,  and  holds  up  the  mirror  to 
ourselves.  Scott,  Dickens  and  Thack- 
eray studied  the  generations  that  have 
just  gone  ;  new  writers  have  arisen  to 
perform  a  similar  duty  for  the  present 
generations  ;  there  will  be  other  novel- 
ists for  future  generations.  If  it  be 
admitted  that  Scott  and  Dickens  and 
Thackeray  were  right  in  describing  the 
life  of  their  day,  it  must  also  be  ad- 
mitted that  it  is  proper  to  have  modern 
authors  describing  the  life  of  our  day. 
Gilbert  Parker,  William  Kirby  and 
William  McLennan  have  brought  out 
many  of  the  striking  qualities  of  the 
romance  which  Parkman  had  previously 
shown  to  be  embodied  in  the  early  days 
of  French  Canada.  SimilarlyCharlesG. 
D.  Roberts  followed  Longfellow,  and. 
choosing  prose  as  his  medium,  has 
shown  us  the  "glory  and  gleam" 
of  the  romantic  days  of  the  French 
occupation  of  Acadia.  Gilbert  Parker 
also  caught  and  embodied  the  charac- 
teristics of  the  early  days  in  north- 
western Canada ;  he  is  being  followed 
by  W.  A.  Fraser,  Bleasdell  Cameron 
and  others.  It  is  said  that  Robert 
Barr's  next  story  will  picture  an  early 
period  in  the  history  of  Ontario,  as  his 
flrst  novel  pictured  the  days  that  were 
filled  with  the  fears  of  a  Fenian  inva- 

sion. Dr,  Drummond  has  mirrored  in 
verse  the  simple  tast«s  and  habits  of  the 
French  Canadian  habitant,  and  a  writer 
may  yet  arise  who  will  find  something 
worthy  of  record  in  the  modern  life  of 
English  Canada. 

The  United  States  people  would  not 
so  thoroughly  appreciate  and  under- 
stand themselves  were  it  not  that  they 
had  J.  Fenimore  Cooper,  Washington 
Irving,  Nathaniel  Hawthorne,  Harriet 
Beecher  Stowe,  William  Dean  Howells 
and  the  numerous  other  writers  who 
have  dealt  with  the  varying  phases  of 
their  three  hundred  years  of  develop- 

The  histories,  biographies  and  books 
of  travel  which  are  being  produced  to- 
day could  not  have  been  written  a 
hundred  years  ago.  The  world  has 
been  enlarged  by  the  steam-driven 
ocean -carriage,  and  we  are  learning  the 
full  extent  of  the  world's  complex 
population.  New  lands  and  new  peo- 
ples have  been  revealed,  and  all  these 
additions  to  our  knowledge  are  making 
for  a  broader  basis  upon  which  to  erect 
our  thought  and  action. 

The  modern  book  is  as  much  a  neces- 
sity to  the  modern  man  as  the  book  of 
the  eighteenth  century  was  to  the  man 
who  lived  then.  The  modern  has 
this  advantage  :  he  possesses  the 
accumulated  books  of  the  centuries  in 
addition  to  the  works  of  his  contem- 

The  variety  of  tastes  demands  a 
variety  of  books.  The  cultured  student 
of  English  may  prefer  the  graceful  ease 
and  perfect  style  of  Stevenson  to  the 
"  sermonic  application  of  incident" 
which  has  gained  so  many  readers  for 
Mrs.  Humphrey  Ward.  The  youths  of 
the  present  generation  were  fed  on  W. 
H.  G.  Kingston,  G.  A.  Henty ;  the 
girls  started  with  "  Pansy  "  and  Annie 
S.  Swan  ;  but  as  men  and  women,  these 
same  persons  demand  something  bet- 
ter, higher,  more  artistic.  Whether 
they  ever  reach  the  height  where  they 
demand  the  purely  artistic  representa- 
tion, free  from  all   moral  analysis    or 


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discussion,  depends  to  a  great  extent 
on  the  thoroug'hness  of  their  literary 
education.  But  every  reader  of  books 
passes  from  class  to  class  and  at  each 
step  finds  interest  in  a  different  kind  of 
book.  This  variety  in  men  and  women 
demands  a  variety  in  books,  which  the 
publisher  of  lo-day  supplies — wiih  per- 
haps  a  little  unnecessary  prodigality. 

With  these  thoughts  in   mind,  even 
current  Canadian  books  of  the    better 

grades  must  have  an  additional  value. 
First,  they  please  and  refine  by  their 
artistic  qualities  ;  then  they  stimulate 
and  interest  by  their  expositions  of 
nature  and  humanity  ;  and  lastly  they 
broaden  our  view  of  Canada  and  of 
Canadian  civilization  by  describing  to 
us  the  Canadians  who  are  and  who 
have  been.  And  he  will  be  the  greatest 
Canadian  who  recognizes  most  thor- 
oughly the  developing  genius  of  the 
Canadian  people. 

John  A.    Cooper, 



'T^HE  work  assigned  by  the  Govern- 
*-  ments  of  Great  Britain  and  the 
United  States  to  the  Anglo-American 
Joint  High  Commission  is  one  of  great 
magnitude.  Several  of  the  questions 
referred  to  this  diplomatic  body  would 
singly  have  furnished  subjects  of  con- 
sideration for  weeks,  or  indeed,  for 
monilis,  judged  by  the  progress  usually 
made  in  diplomatic  affairs.  Nearly  all 
of  the  questions  are  of  great  interna- 
tional consequence.  Enumerated  in  the 
order  of  their  importance,  they  are  :  the 
question  of  Trade  Relations,  the  Al- 
askan Boundary,  the  North-eastern 
Fisheries  question,  the  Pelagic  Sealing 
question,  the  Bonding  Privilege,  the 
Transit  Privilege,  Reciprocity  in  Min- 
ing Rights,  Building  of  War  Vessels 
upon  the  Great  Lakes,  Alien  Labour 
Law,  ajid  the  Regulations  of  the  In- 
land Fisheries. 

That  the  Commission  should  be  ex- 
pected to  settle  all  these  questions  in 
the  course  of  a  few  weeks  is  unreason- 
able; and  that  careful,  painstaking,  and 
even  devoted  attention  to  their  labours 
has  been  given  by  ail  the  members  of 
this  diplomatic  body  need  not  be  doubt- 
ed. The  devotion  of  Sir  Wilfrid 
rier  and  his  colleagues  to  the  promotion 
and  conserving  of  the  interests  of  Ca- 
nada is  asserted  without  the  slightest 
hesitation,    and   it    may   be   said  with 

equal  assurance  that  up  to  the  present 
moment  no  mistake  has  been  made  in 
the  management  of  the  negotiations 
by  the  British  Commissioners. 

It  is  unfortunate  that  an  agreement 
could  not  have  been  reached  upon  the 
Alaskan  Boundary  question.  It  is 
only  necessary  to  say  in  reference  to 
the  matter  that  the  fault  does  not  lie 
with  the  British  Commissioners.  It  is 
perhaps  not  visionary  to  expect  that  an 
impartial  Court  of  Arbitration  will  give 
an  award  even  more  favourable  to  Ca- 
nadian interests  than  a  settlement  upon 
the  terms  the  British  Commissioners 
were  prepared  to  accept  would  have 

It  does  not  follow  from  this  failure 
to  agree  to  terms  of  settlement  upon 
one  of  the  points  of  reference,  that  a 
treaty  in  the  main  satisfactory  will  not 
be  finally  negotiated.  The  public  are 
not  in  a  position  to  criticize  the  acts  of 
the  Commission,  the  nature  of  its  con- 
ferences, or  the  line  of  arguments 
adopted  by  the  British  Commissioners, 
for  the  simple  reason  that  the  informa- 
tionis  not  available  upon  which  an  intel- 
ligent opinion  relating  to  these  matters 
can  be  founded. 

The  adjournment  of  the  Commission 
to  meet  in  August  next,  was  beyond 
question  a  prudent  and  advisable  act. 
At  Ihe  time  the  adjournment  was  de- 

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cided  upon,  but  a  few  days  would 
elapse  before  the  adjournment  of  the 
United  States  Senate  on  March  4th. 
No  possibility  of  securing'  a  treaty  in 
time  for  reference  to  that  body,  exist- 
ed. Its  next  meeting  would  take  place, 
unless  an  extra  Session  of  Congress 
was  called,  in  December,  1899.  A 
pressing  necessity  existed  for  calling 
the  Dominion  Parliament  together. 
The  lapse  of  time  had  been  working  in 
favour  of  the  Canadian  contentions, 
and  it  was  reasonable  to  believe  would 
continue  to  do  so.  The  re-assembling 
of  the  Commission  will  lake  place  at  a 
period  when  ample  lime  will  be  afford- 
ed for  reaching  a  decision  upon  all 
questions  before  the  meeting  of  Con- 
gress or  of  Parliament,  for  it  must  be 
remembered  that  these  questions  have 
all  been  fully  discussed,  and  it  will  be 
no  breach  of  confidence  to  assert  that 
upon  many  of  them  tentative  agree- 
ments have  been  arrived  at,  the  fulfil- 
ment of  which  is  contingent,  of  course, 
upon  the  satisfactory  settlement  of  all 
the  questions  that  the  Commission  has 
to  pass  upon. 

Under  all  these  circumstances,  the 
attitude  of  certain  classes  and  parties 
in  Canada  in  reference  to  the  work  of 
the  Commission  is  not  only  unreason- 
able, but  mischievous.  A  Jingo  senti- 
ment seems  to  be  rampant  in  certain 
quarters,  whichis  diametrically  opposed 
in  spirit  and  act  to  the  sentiment  of 
cordiality  and  good-will  each  for  the 
other  which  prevails  in  the  United 
States  and  Great  Britain.  The  parties 
entertaining  these  .sentiments  do  not 
seem  to  realize  the  resistless  march  of 
events  that  lead,  under  the  direction  of 
a  higher  hand,  to  Anglo-Saxon  entity 
and  community  of  action.  While 
weighty  events  are  transpiring,  and  a 
great  epoch  of  the  world's  history  is 
evolving  its  mighty  results  under  our 
very  eyes,  these  agitators  and  growlers 
are  oblivious  to  all  that  stands  outside 
of  their  own  limited  range  of  selfish 
interests  and  circumscribed  vision. 

One  who  wishes  well  for  the  future 
of  the  world,  and  who  appreciates  the 
importance  of  the  mission  of  the  Eng- 
lish-speaking race,  cannot  but  be  pain- 

ed at  widely-uttered  expressions  of 
satisfaction  that  the  Commission  has 
adjourned  without  making  a  treaty, 
and  the  avowal  of  hopes  that  no  treaty 
will  ever  be  made.  These  expressions 
often  come  from  men  who  ought  to 
know  better,  and  who  might  be  sup- 
posed to  possess  intelligence  and  capa- 
bility that  would  lead  to  a  more  rea- 
sonable and  creditable  expression  of 
opinion  and  desire. 

The  existence  of  this  sentiment,  so  far 
as  it  is  a  factor  exercising  influence  upon 
the  case,  is  mischievous  and  prejudicial 
to  the  interests  of  the  work  which  all 
friends  ofhumanity  most  certainly  desire 
that  the  Joint  High  Commission  should 
satisfactorily  accomplish.  If  the  in- 
fluence of  this  sentiment  had  been  con- 
fined merely  to  expressions  of  opinion, 
it  might  have  been  passed  over  as  not 
of  sufficient  importance  to  require  no- 
tice, but  it  has  manifested  its  character 
and  purpose  in  concrete  acts.  It  is 
the  parent  of  the  embarrassing  alien 
labour  law  of  British  Columbia,  and 
of  the  unjust  and  ill-advised  log  ejtport 
embargo  law  of  the  Province  of  the 
Ontario  ;  and  it  is  constantly  agitating 
for  legislative  action  of  a  character 
that  will  certainly  imperil  friendly  re- 
lations and  create  disagreeable  and 
dangerous  complications. 

The  prohibition  of  the  export  of  a 
merchantable  commodity,  whether  raw 
material  or  manufactured  article,  is 
scarcely  in  accordance  with  the  friendly 
comity  that  should  exist  between  civil- 
ized states,  except  the  act  is  adopted 
in  relation  to  articles  that  are  declared 
to  be  contraband  of  war;  but  this  Jingo 
element  in  the  Dominion  has  secured 
the  passage  of  the  two  laws  alluded  to, 
one  being  practically  a  prohibition  of 
export,  the  other  an  application  of  ao 
unfriendly  policy  with  which  the  Com- 
mission is  dealing,  and  the  adjustment 
of  which  is  a  subject  of  negotiation 
whose  successful  issue  is  made  more 
difficult  by  this  action.  This  element 
further  demands  the  prohibition  of  the 
export  of  pulp  wood,  an  export  duty 
upon  nickel  ore,  and  an  export  duty 
upon  lead  ores,  and  would  be  guilty  of 
any  conceivable    fiscal  vagary  that    in 


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the  estimation  of  its  leaders  would  be 
likely  to  coerce  the  United  States  or 
injure  rival  interests. 

The  Ontario  log  export  embargo  law 
is  calculated  to  prove  a  very  serious 
obstacle  to  the  adjustment  on  a  satis- 
factory basis  of  the  lumber  duty  ques- 
tion. The  law  arouses  much  indig;na- 
tion  in  the  United  States,  it  is  con> 
sidered  practically  an  act  of  confisca- 
tioa  as  to  sales  made  prior  to  its  en- 
actment, and  where  its  provisions  were 
not  made  a  condition  of  sale.  It  is 
severely  condemned  by  the  United  States 
Commissioners,  and  its  natural  influ- 
ence upon  negotiations  can  not  fail  to  be 
to  render  the  party  from  whom  conces- 
sions are  asked  reluctant  to  give  them 
because  of  irritation  and  of  fear  that 
the  concessions  might  be  attributed  to 
the  pressure  of  this  absurd  law.  It 
has  also  unfortunately  inflicted  a  serious 
blow  upon  Canadian  interests,  and  has, 
in  the  estimation  of  United  States 
investors,  sullied  the  business  and 
political  reputation  of  Canada. 

As  a  consequence  of  this  law  millions 
of  dollars  of  American  capital  have  been 
deterred  from  investment  in  Canadian 
"business  enterprises, such  as  miningand 
lumbering.  The  parties  who  otherwise 
would  have  been  disposed  to  make 
such  investment  were  nervous  lest  legis- 
lation of  a  corresponding  character 
should,  after  their  investments  were 
made,  render  them  incapable  of  making 
use  'without  restraint  of  the  products 
of  the  investments  in  such  a  manner  as 
their  interests  required  and  legitimate 
business  consideration  rendered  neces- 
sary. Nelson  Dingley  publicly  stated 
at  the  time  of  the  last  meeting  of  the 
Joint  High  Commission  in  Quebec  that 
to  his  personal  knowledge  up  to  that 
time  ten  million  dollars  of  American 
-capital  had  been  diverted  from  propos- 
ed investments  in  Canada  in  conse- 
quence of  the  Ontario  log  export  em- 
bargo law. 

An  examination  into  the  circum- 
stances preceding  the  enactment  of 
this  law,  which  was  an  act  practically 
forced  upon  the  Ontario  Government 
by  the  clamour  of  selfish  interests, 
■backed  by  a  sentimental,  popular  de- 

mand not  founded  upon  proper  know- 
ledge of  the  situation  or  just  apprecia- 
tion of  the  character  of  the  measure, 
will  be  sufficient  to  convince  the  candid 
mind  that  it  is  wrong.  The  United 
States  mill  owners  in  Michigan,  having 
exhausted  the  available  supply  of  timber 
in  that  State,  found  upon  their  hands 
idle  mills  and  salt  blocks,  which  of 
course  they  were  anxious  to  keep  in 
operation.  For  the  purpose  of  doing 
so,  large  purchases  of  timber  were 
made  in  Ontario,  situated  at  points 
where  it  could  be  conveyed  to  these 
mills  in  rafts.  These  investments 
were  made  at  the  invitation  of  the  On- 
tario Government,  by  whom  notices  of 
sale  and  descriptions  of  limits  offered 
were  sent  to  United  States  lumber  firms. 
They  were  made  with  the  full  know- 
ledge of  the  Ontario  Government  that 
the  purposes  of  the  purchasers  were  to 
take  the  logs  to  their  mills.  The 
prices  paid  for  these  limits  for  this  pur- 
pose were  very  large,  the  business  of 
exporting  the  logs  was  permitted  to 
continue  for  a  term  of  years,  lasting 
from  the  time  of  purchase  till  189S 
without  hindrance  on  the  part  of  the 
Ontario  Government.  The  right  to 
export  these  logs  had  been  recognized 
by  the  Ontario  Government  in  one  of 
its  public  sales  of  a  comparatively  re- 
cent date.  When  the  first  limit  offered 
was  put  up,  subject  to  the  condition  of 
manufacture  in  Ontario,  bidding  was 
languid  and  unsatisfactory  prices  were 
received  ;  and  in  consequence  that 
condition  was  removed  in  subsequent 
sales;  and  then,  in  the  case  of  the  limit 
sold  subject  to  the  condition  of  manu- 
facture in  Ontario,  the  condition  was 
removed  for  a  comparatively  insignifi- 
cant consideration.  The  rif>ht  to  make 
the  sweeping  changes  embodied  in  the 
law  under  consideration,  practically 
amounting  to  confiscation,  were  as- 
sumed to  be  warranted  by  the  power 
reserved  by  the  Government  to  make 
regulations  when  issuing  licenses.  The 
power  thus  reserved  unquestionably 
referred  to  such  matters  as  fire  protec- 
tion, reservation  of  timber  below  a  cer- 
tain minimum  size,  ground  rent,  Crown 
dues,  and  other  matters  directly  per- 


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taining;  to  proper  care  of  the  Govern- 
ment's interest  in  stumpage.  It  is  ab- 
surd to  suppose  that  it  was  ever  con- 
templated that  the  power  to  regulate 
the  management  of  Crown  timber  lim- 
its could  be  held  to  permit  the  Govern- 
ment to  practically  coaliscate  the  in- 
terest of  the  holder  as  an  incident  of 
management,  or  to  prevent  the  pur- 
chaser from  making  use  of  a  limit  after 
he  had  paid  for  it,  according  to  the  or- 
dinary methods  of  business,  and  for 
his  own  advantage. 

The  exportation  of  logs  has  been  one 
of  the  most  profitable  branches  of  Ca- 
nadian lumbering,  and  the  Algoma  dis- 
trict, where  this  business  has  centred, 
has  been  the  most  prosperous  section 
of  the  lumbering  areas  of  Canada. 
Many  Canadian  firms  have  engaged  in 
this  business  because  it  offered  to  them 
the  chance  to  make  a  more  profitable 
disposition  of  their  timber  than  could 
be  secured  in  any  other  way.  Among 
these  Canadian  firms  may  be  mention- 
ed Mr.  John  Bertram,  representing  the 
Collins  Bay  Inlet  Company  ;  Hale  & 
Booth,  of  Ottawa  ;  A.  Barnett  &  Son, 
Carswell  &  Francis,  Cutler  &  Savage, 
Gordon  &  Company,  the  Muskoka 
Lumber  Company,  the  Ontario  Lum- 
ber Company,  the  Conger  Lumber 
Company,  and  other  firms  who  have 
either  exported  logs  direct  or  have 
sold  them  for  the  purpose  of  exporta- 

The  belief  that  the  Ontario  log  ex- 
port embargo  law  is  a  weapon  which 
will  tend  to  the  securing  of  concessions 
in  the  matter  of  abatement  or  removal 
of  lumber  duties  is  ridiculous.  Its  con- 
sequences tall  upon  that  class  of  United 
States  lumbermen  who  have  invest- 
ments in  Canadian  limits,  who  are  our 
friends,  who  have  worked  earnestly 
and  intelligently  for  a  reduction  of  lum- 
ber duties  in  the  United  States  to  the 
full  extent  that  in  their  judgment  it  was 
possible  to  obtain,  who  have  spent  large 
sums  of  money  in  behalf  of  this  pur- 
pose when  the  Dingley  Bill  was  under 
consideration,  and  whose  efforts  dur- 
ing the  progress  of  negotiations  in  the 
joint  High  Commission  were  more 
fruitful  of  results  and  of  more  value  to 

the  Canadian  lumber  interest  than  any 
other  influence  that  was  brought  to 
bear.  These  men  are  subjected  to  the 
provisions  of  this  law  and  the  serious 
loss  consequent  upon  their  enforce- 
ment, under  the  senseless  belief  that 
their  losses  will  influence  the  great 
mass  of  United  States  lumbermen  who 
desire  high  duties  and  the  exclusion  of 
lumber  either  in  the  form  of  saw  logs 
or  boards  from  the  American  market, 
to  grant  an  abatement  or  an  abolition  of 
duty.  The  truth  is  that  the  purposes 
of  ninety-seven  per  cent,  of  the  United 
States  lumbermen  who  desire  the  re- 
tention of  a  $3.00  duty  are  well  served 
by  this  law  which  plays  into  their 
hands  and  serves  their  interests,  while 
the  three  percent,  of  American  lumber- 
men who  are  interested  in  Canadian 
log  exportation  and  who  desire  to  see 
all  restrictions  upon  lumber  importa- 
tions removed  have,  in  conjunction 
with  the  Canadian  firms  interested  in 
this  trade,  to  suffer  all  the  penal  conse- 
quences that  the  law  inflicts. 

If  it  is  conceded  that  the  promoters 
of  this  law  are  men  of  intelligence,  who 
can  correctly  gauge  its  influence  and 
understand  the  character  of  its  opera- 
tion, their  action  in  the  premises  can 
with  difficulty  be  accounted  for.  Pos- 
sibly it  is  like  some  of  the  stock-job- 
bing operations  on  the  stock  exchange. 
They  may  be  bears  in  the  pine  timber 
markets,  desiring  to  purchase  limits  at 
low  figures  and  exerting  their  influence 
to  secure  and  retain  legislation  calcu- 
lated to  produce  disaster  among  lum- 
bermen, for  the  purpose  of  being  able 
to  buy  timber  limits  cheap.  If  this  is 
not  the  case,  their  efforts  are  sadly 
misapplied  and  their  calculations  wild- 
ly astray. 

Better  relations  between  Canada  and 
the  United  States  it  is  needless  to  say 
are  most  desirable.  In  the  United 
States  a  better  state  of  feeling  exists 
towards  Canada  than  at  any  time  since 
1866,  and  a  disposition  exists  to  make 
the  commercial  relations  between  the 
two  countries  broader  and  more  liberal. 
This  disposition  will  grow  if  permitted 
to  do  so.  The  concessions  that  may 
now  be  secured  will  prove  to  be  enter- 


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vag  wedges  for  still  g^reater  cooces- 
sioDS  ID  the  near  future.  Feelings  of 
good-will  and  amity  should  be  sedu- 
lously cultivated.  We  should  restrain 
our  dislikes  and  any  desire  which  we 
may  have  to  make  attempts  to  coerce, 
and  should  seek  to  acquire  the  ele- 
mentary principles  of  the  laws  of  force, 
and  realize  that  six  million  people  can- 
not, without  the  intervention  of  super- 
natural influences,  bring  seventy  seven 
million  people  to  their  knees.  We 
should  bear  in  mind  that  certain  provin- 
cial character! sties  which  manifest  them- 
selves in  a  manner  somewhat  annoy- 
ing and  at  times  embarrassing  to  Eng' 
lish  statesmen,  should  as  far  as  possible 
be  avoided.  If  we  can  settle  down  to 
a  state  of  mind  which  will  enable  us  to 
determine  to  cultivate  the  graces  of 
good-fellowship,  fairness  and  modera- 
tion, we  will  be  acting  strictly  in  line 
with  the  desires  of  those  who  have 
charge  of  the  destinies  of  the  great 
Empire  to  which  we  belong,  and  will 
also    be    moving   in   the   direction    of 

the  consummation  of  our  own  best  in- 

It  is  desirable  that  Canada  should 
be  alive  to  her  own  interests.  The  in- 
creasing aspirations  for  national  life 
and  expansion  are  welcome  signs  of 
the  times.  The  efforts  these  aspira- 
tions command  should  be  intelligent. 
While  respecting  ourselves  and  aim- 
ing to  promote  our  own  interests,  we 
should  respect  our  obligations  and  our 
honour.  A  more  distinctive  national 
policy  may  become  desirable.  It  may 
become  advisable  to  have  a  more 
thorough  reciprocity  with  the  United 
States  in  the  matter  of  tariffs  if  we 
cannot  reach  a  fair  degree  of  reciprocity 
in  the  matter  of  trade.  It  will  never, 
however,  be  advisable  or  necessary  to 
repudiate  our  obligations  or  break 
faith.  No  temporary  advantage  gained 
can  compensate  for  the  degrading  in- 
fluence of  such  an  act,  and  no  action 
of  that  kind  will  commend  itself  to  the 
considerate  judgment  of  truly  patriotic 

John  Charlton. 


IF  any  man  shall  ever  say  to  thee: 
"Show  me  the  hand-work  of  the  strong-willed  West," 
Point  them  beyond  the  Rockies'  snowy  crest 
And  say:   "Behold  yon  city  by  the  seal 
Scarce  twelve  brief  years  ago,  and  lonesomely 

The  Indian  roamed  her  streets,  then  wildly  dressed 
With  trees  and  vines  through  which  the  cougar 
And  knew  a  lair  secure  to  which  to  flee! 

"Now  hear  her  voice — her  loud,  strong  roar  of  power! 

Behold  the  ships  that  fly  to  bear  her  gold  I 
She  was  poor-born,  butio!  she  now  hath  dower 

Of  priceless  wealth,  for  she  is  from  a  mould 
From  which  but  great  things  come — a  noble  cast — 
And  shall  grow  greater  as  the  years  go  past !" 

Elv^n  Itving  Hoffman. 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 



WAS  it  merely  accidental,  or  was  it 
done  designedly  ?  Such  is  the 
question  that  often  presents  itself  to 
the  mind  of  the  observer  of  passing 
events,  when  it  is  seen  how  closely  the 
early  official  career  of  His  Royal  High- 
ness the  Prince  of  Wales  was  inter- 
woven with  the  history  of  Canada. 
Was  this  little  more  than  an  accidental 
circumstance,  an  incident  or  series  of 
incidents  in  the  education  of  the  Prince, 
or  was  it  done  designedly  with  the  in- 
tention and  in  the  hope  of  drawing  the 
then  little  known  colonies  of  British 
North  America  into  closer  touch  with 
the  mother  country? 

These  questions  are  not  quite  so 
easily  answered  as  might  be  supposed. 
There  was  undoubtedly  a  wish  to  please 
the  colonists  of  British  North  America 
when  the  Queen  with  the  concurrence 
of  the  Ministry  of  the  day  decided  that 
the  first  royal  progress  made  by  the 
Prince  of  Wales  should  be  through 

That  fact  can  clearly  be  taken  for 
granted,  that  and  no  more. 

It  is  mere  idle  talk,  the  mere  imag- 
inings of  a  fertile  imagination,  to  say 
that  the  Prince  of  Wales'  visit  to  Ca- 
nada was,  in  Her  Majesty's  mind,  in- 
tended as  a  feeler  in  the  direction  of 
the  policy  which  we  now  know  as  Im- 
perial Federation.  Some  one  or  two 
writers  of  more  notoriety  than  solidity 
have  started  this  theory,  though  it  has 
generally  been  admitted  by  them  when 
putting  fortvard  the  idea  that  there  is 
little  or  no  evidence  beyond  that  of  in- 
ference to  support  it.  That  such  a 
view  was  clearly  not  that  of  the  British 
public  is  plainly  evidenced  by  the  fol- 
lowing extract  from  a  letter  written  by 
the  special  correspondent  of  The  Times 
newspaper,  who  accompanied  the 
Prince  on  his  North  American  journey. 
He  had  been  speaking  ot  how  little  was 
known  of  Canada  in  England,  and  he 
thus  concludes  : 

of  this  British  posiessions  in  Nortli  America 
will  force  their  notice  on  Eilgli>i)d  and  hs  peo- 
ple, who  will  then  learn  with  as  much  pleas- 
ure as  surprise  that  their  colony,  known  only 
under  the  ifeneral  name  of  OanndH,  is  an  Em- 
pire of  the  west  interior  only  to  the  United 

It  is  necessary  now  to  retrace  our 
steps  slightly  and  revert  to  the  period 
when  the  Prince  of  Wales  made  his  de- 
but in  public  life,  that  debut  being  con- 
nected  directly  with  Canada  and  with 
the  regiment  of  infantry  raised  by  the 
Imperial  Government  on  Canadian  soil. 

The  Prince  of  Wales  was  in  1858, 
when  he  had  little  more  than  completed 
his  seventeenth  year,  gazetted  a  col- 
onel in  the  British  army,  and  his  first 
act  as  one  of  the  commissioned  officers 
of  his  Royal  mother's  forces  was  to  pre- 
sent colours  to  the  Hundredth  or  Prince 
of  Wales'  Royal  Canadian  Regiment. 
The  presentation  of  the  colours  took 
place  at  Shorncliffe  camp  early  in  the 
year  1859,  and  from  then  until  the 
middle  of  the  fallowing  year  there  was 
nothing  in  the  public  life  of  the  Prince 
of  Wales  especially  connected  either 
with  Canada  or  Canadians. 

I  was  iftihe  Isle  of  Wight  in  July, 
iS&o,  spending  a  portion  of  the  summer 
at  East  Cowes,  at  no  great  distance 
from  Osborne  House,  Her  Majesty's 
marine  residence.  Whilst  there,  I 
think  it  was  about  July  9,  I  saw  the 
Prince  of  Wales  for  the  first  time.  He 
was  then  driving  from  Osborne  House 
to  Trinity  Pier,  East  Cowes,  en  route 
to  Plymouth,  where  he  was  to  embark 
for  Canada.  I  was  with  a  part^  of 
friends,  and  we  raised  our  hats  to  tiim 
and  called  out  as  he  went  on  board  the 
tender  that  we  wished  him  a  speedy 
journey  across  the  Atlantic  and  a  pleas- 
ant visit  in  Canada.  He  raised  his  hat 
in  reply,  while  we  joined  in  the  cheer- 
ing that  arose  when  the  vessel  steamed 
out  inio  the  Solent. 

The  Prince's  journey  across  the  At- 
lantic was,  so  ihe  newspaper  corres- 
pondents inform  us,  almost  devoid  of 
incident.     He   was  was   not  troubled 


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with  mal  de  nter,  and  he 
appears  to  have  been  most 
popular.  A  private  letter 
of  the  time  speaking  of 
him  says  :  "  His  grace, 
affability  and  kind  good 
nature  won  the   hearts  of 

Let  I 


pleasure  of  glancing  brief- 
ly at  the  Prince  of  Wales' 
royal  progress  through 
Canada.  It  is  hard  to  be- 
lieve that  it  is  more  than 
thirty-eight  years  since  he 
left  our  shores,  and  that 
by  lar  the  greater  number 
of  those  who  welcomed 
him  here  on  his  arrival 
have  passed  away  to  swell 
the  ranits  of  the  great  and 
silent  majority. 

The  Prince  arrived  at 
Newfoundland  on  July  23. 
He  had  sailed  from  Ply- 
mouth on  July  10,  conse- 
quently had  taken  nearly 
a  fortnight  to  cross  the 
Atlantic.  His  reception  at 
Newfoundland  was  cordial 
and  loyal  in  the  extreme, 
all  classes  uniting  in  giv- 
ing H.  R.  H.  the  most 
hearty  welcome.  Among 
other    mementos    of    his  Frsm  a  Ra 

visit  to  Newfoundland 
which  he  took  away  with  him  was  a  mag- 
nificent specimen  of  the  dogs  for  which 
it  isso  justly  famous.  This  dog  caused 
not  only  a  considerable  amount  of  am- 
usement, but  was  a  great  deal  of  anx- 
iety to  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  to  those 
whose  duty  it  was  to  take  care  of  his 
property.  The  dog  had  been  called 
Hero,  and  so  long  as  the  Prince  of 
Wales  remained  on  board  the  troop- 
ship which  had  brought  him  from  Eng- 
land constant  watchfulness  had  to  be 
used  to  prevent  Hero  going  overboard 
for  a  swim  with  or  without  provoca- 
tion. Even  if  Hero  was  allowed  to 
take  exercise  between  decks,  an  open 
porthole  giving  him  a  glimpse  of  the 
river  was  quite  sufficient  to  make  him 
Jump  through  it  into  what  appeared  to 

■Hi  PhUBgntk  Iv  Hills  Sf  Sttundcn.  «/'  Oi/eni. 

be  almost  his  natural  element.  At 
last  it  was  found  that  Hero  must  be 
permanently  tied  up,  or  a  boat  fully 
manned  must  always  be  kept  in  readi- 
ness to  go  after  him  when  he  chose 
to  resort  to  the  water.  The  former 
alternative  was  chosen. 

After  leaving  Newfoundland  the 
Prince  visited  Halifax,  New  Bruns- 
wick, Prince  Edward  Island,  the  Sag- 
uenay,  and  then  Quebec.  The  latter 
historic  city  was  then  the  capital  of 
the  United  Canadas,  and  during  his 
visit  there  the  Prince  knighted  the 
Speakers  of  both  the  Legislative  Coun- 
cil and  Assembly.  I  shall  again  quote 
in  this  connection  the  testimony  ot 
The  Times  correspondent  as  to  the 
feeling  evoked  in  Canada  by  the 

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of  the  Prince  of  Wales.  He  says:  "To 
my  astoolshment  1  find  that  the  whole 
land  from  Halifax  to  Lake  Huron  re- 
sounded only  with  preparations  for  the 
approaching  royal  visit,  Ii.  was  diffi- 
cult to  find  a  paper  which  was  not  full 
of  acrostics  on  the  name  of  Albert 
Edward,  verses  in  his  praise,  anecdotes 
of  his  childhood,  and  predictions  of  a 
future  career  which  should  equal  that 
of  his  Royal  mother,  whose  name,  it 
must  be  said,  was  never  mentioned  in 
Canada  or  the  United  States  but  in 
such  terms  of  reverence  as  every  Eng- 
lishman feels  glad  and  proud  to  hear. 
It  was  Prince's  hats,  Prince's  boots. 
Prince's  umbrellas,  Prince's  coats. 
Prince's  cigars,  and  the  whole  country 
nodded  with  Prince's  coronets  and 

H.R.H.  arrived  in  Quebec  about  the 
middle  of  August,  and  was  received 
there  on  "a  lavish  scale  of  splendour 
and  hospitality,  and  distinguished  by 
such  boundless  enthusiasm  of  loyalty. " 
Among  the  festivities  in  Quebec  in 
honour  of  the  Prince  was  a  grand 
ball,  the  dance  programme  of  which 
contained  twenty-four  dances,  and  of 
these  the  Prince  joined  in  no  less  than 
twenty-two.  An  amusing  incident 
happened  to  him  and  his  partner  dur- 
ing the  festivities.  Horrible  to  relate 
the  Prince  fell,  and  with  him  his  fair 
partner !  The  Canadian  papers  ignored 
the  incident;  not  so,  though,  one  at 
least  of  those  in  New  York.  That 
journal  related  what  had  occurred  in 
the  most  exaggerated  language,  and 
not  only  did  it  do  that,  but  the  account 
was  headed  with  the  following  astound- 
ing head  lines  : 

The  Canadian  Commotion. 

Splendid  Splurge  of  the  Quebecers. 

The  Prince  at  the  Grand  Ball  given  by 

the  City. 

He  danced  twenty-two  times,  tripped 

and  fell. 
His  beautiful  partner  rolled  over  him. 

Honi  soit  qui  mal  y  pense. 

The  Prince  immediately  picked  himself 

and  partner  up. 

And  continued  the  dance. 

Terrible  flutter  of  crinoline. 

From  Quebec  the  Prince  proceeded 
to  Montreal  where  he  drove  the  last 
rivet,  a  silver  one,  of  the  Victoria 
bridge,  thus  completing  that  wonder- 
ful, triumph  of  engineering'  skill.  At 
Montreal  as  at  Halifax  and  Quebec  the 
Prince  was  received  with  the  greatest 
hospitality  and  enthusiasm,  which  was 
continued  throughout  the  whole  of  his 
Canadian  tourat  every  place  he  visited. 

The  Prince  arrived  in  Toronto  by  the 
steamer  Kingston  early  in  September, 
and  the  only  thing  which  marred  his 
visit  to  the  Queen  City  was  the  con- 
tinual downpour  of  rain  during  the 
time  he  was  there.  After  leaving  Mon- 
treal, the  Prince  before  reaching  To- 
ronto had  visited  Ottawa,  and  there 
laid  the  foundation  stone  of  the  present 
Parliament  Buildings.  Whilst  in  To- 
ronto he  opened  the  Horticultural  Gar- 
dens, planted  trees,  was  present  at  a 
ball  given  in  the  old  Crystal  Palace 
which  stood  on  the  Garrison  Commons 
between  the  Provincial  Lunatic  Asylum 
and  the  lake,  attended  the  Royal  Cana- 
dian Yacht  Club's  regatta,  received 
deputations  from  Trinity  and  Toronto 
Universities,  from  Upper  Canada  Col- 
lege, and  the  Veterans  of  the  war  of 
1S12,  reviewed  the  Militia,  and  held  a 
levee,  besides  receiving  addresses  from 
deputations  all  but  innumerable.  After 
leaving  Toronto  the  Prince  visited 
Hamilton,  the  Ambitious  City,  and 
London,  the  Forest  City.  The  Times 
correspondent  describes  the  latter  place 
thus;  "  This  colonial  backwoods  par- 
ody of  the  great  metropolis." 

However,  whether  it  was  a  back- 
woods settlement  or  not,  the  London- 
ers gave  H.R.H.  a  magnificent  recep- 
tion, convincing  him  that  even  if  they 
were  in  the  backwoods  they  were  as 
loyal  subjects  as  those  who  frequented 
"the  shady  side  of  Pall  Mall."  It  is 
amusing  to  note  what  the  Times  cor- 
respondent, and  this  ts  the  last  time  I 
shall  quote  him,  had  to  say  about  Lon- 
don, No  doubt  there  is  some  truth  in 
the  satire,  but  it  is  one  of  those  things 
which,  as  Punch  would  say,  "might 
have  been  expressed  differently."  The 
quotation  is  this  :  "  In  London  a  real 
Londoner  might    safely   intimate    that 

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the  city  does  not  much  remind  him  of 
that  which  he  has  left  behind,  though 
woe  betide  any  Lower  Canadian  or 
American  who  should  do  the  same,  or 
draw  any  comparison  disparaging  to 
the  London  of  Canada  West." 

Whilst  at  Niagara  the  Prince  of 
Wales  laid  the  coping  stone  of  Brock's 
monument,  which  had  been  inaugurat- 
ed with  great  ceremony  by  General  Sir 
Fenwick  Williams,  of  Kars,  who  was 
a  native  of  Halifax,  on  October  13th 

The  Prince,  after  leav- 
ing Canada,  proceeded 
toj  Detroit,  being  ac-  the  fron- 
tier by  Mr.,  afterwards 
Sir,  John  A.  Macdon- 

It  is  not  necessary  to 
.  follow  him  in  his  travels 
throughout  the  United 
States  ;  it  is  sufficient 
to  state  that  every  where 
was  the  greatest  hospi- 
tality and  courtesy  ex- 
tended to  him;  indeed, 
had  the  people  of  many 
of  the  places  he  visited 
been  British  subjects, 
their  welcome  could  not 
have  been  heartier. 

The  Prince  of  Wales 
came  of  age  in  Novem- 
ber,   1862,    the    event, 

death  of  the  Prince  Con- 
sort, being  allowed  to 
pass  without  anyjgreat 
amount  of  public  Jre- 
joicings  either  in  Great 
Britain  or  elsewhere. 
About  the  same  time 
that  H.R.H.  attained 
his  majority  his  be- 
trothal to  the  Princess 
Alexandra  of  Denmark 
was  announced,  which 

the  most  unbounded 
satisfaction  by  all  class- 
es, by  all  sorts  and  con- 
ditions of  men  through- 
out the  British  Empire. 
The  Princess  arrived  in  England  on 
March  7th,  1863,  and  made  a  trium- 
phal progress  from  the  Bricklayers' 
Arms  railway  station,  on  the  "  Surrey 
side  the  river,"  through  the  metropolis 
to  Paddinglon  station.  The  scene  at 
the  Mansion  House,  where  the  Prin- 
cess was  welcomed  by  the  Lord  Mayor 
of  London,  was  one  that  stilt  lingers  in 
the  memory  of  all  those  who  witnessed 
it.  In  whatever  direction  one  looked 
there  was  one  vast  mass  of  people  and 
upturned  faces.    Here  were  the  scarlet- 

■t  Ch-'ftl. 



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coated  troopers  of  the  Life 
Guards  with  their  cuiiasses 
sparkling  and  glimmering  in 
the  tight,  sitting  their  splen- 
did chargers  as  if  they  and 
their  steeds  were  one,  and  in 
as  perfect  command  of  them- 
selves, as  they  preceded  and 
followed  the  Royal  carriages, 
despite  the  enormous  crowds 
pressing  on  all  sides,  as  if 
they  were  only  on  the  Horse 
Guards  parade  ground.  Then 
there  were  the  men  of  the 
Brigade  of  Foot  Guards,  also 
in  scarlet,  with  their  tower- 
ing bear-skin  headdresses, 
some  of  them  wearing  medals 
for  their  gallant  deeds  in  the 
Crimea,  and  with  memories 
also  of  a  day  but  six  years 
previously  when  they,  too,  on 
their  return  from  the  Eastern 
campaign,  were  welcomed 
back  to^  London  by  crowds 
whose  enthusiasm  was  al- 
most as  great  as  that  then 
displayed  towards  the  "Sea 
King's  Daughter."  Then 
there  were  the  sombre  uni- 
forms of  the  men  of  the  6oth  ^"^  pR'"* 
Royal  Rifles,  the  light  grey 
tunics  and  feathered  shakos 
of  the  London  Scottish  Volunteers,  the 
blue  and  gojd  of  the  Royal  Artillery 
and  the  dear  old  familiar  red-coated 
infantry  of  the  line. 

The  troops,  as  became  them,  were 
silent,  but  the  voice  of  welcome  which 
went  up  from  the  people  was  a  roar 
rather  than  a  shout.  It  has  been  com- 
puted that  nearly  one  and  a-half  mil- 
lions of  people  were  on  the  route  of  the 
Royal  procession  from  the  railway  sta- 
tion where  the  Princess  arrived  in  Lon- 
don, in  company  with  the  Prince  of 
Wales,  who  had  met  her  at  Gravesend, 
to  Paddiogton,  where  she  and  her  af- 
fianced husband  departed  for  Windsor. 

The  Princess'  entry  into  London  was 
on  Saturday,  March  7th,  1863,  and  the 
marriage  ceremony  took  place  at 
Windsor,  in  the  gorgeous  and  historic 
chapel  of  St.  George,  on  the  following 
Tuesday,  March  loth. 

Pkalotratk  in  1864.  ty   Vernon  HralA. 

It  may  be  appropriately  mentioned 
here  that  the  Prince  of  Wales  had,  on 
February  5th,  1863,  but  little  more  than 
a  month  previous  to  his  marriage,  taken 
his  seat  at  the  opening  of  Parliament  in 
the  House  of  Peers,  the  titles  under 
which  he  was  sworn  in  being  Duke  of 
Cornwall,  Earl  of  Chester,  Earl  of  Car- 
rick,  Earl  of  Rothsay  and  Lord  of  the 
Isles.  It  was  a  singular  and  unprece- 
dented occurrence,  that  of  a  Prince  of 
Wales  taking  his  seat  as  a  peer  of  the 
realm  in  the  hereditary  branch  of  the 
Legislature  at  the  same  time  that  the 
speech  from  the  throne  announced  his 
approaching  marriage  to  a  foreign 

To  return  to  the  marriage.  After 
the  ceremony  was  over  and  the  Royal 
couple  had  taken  leave  of  Her  Majesty 
the  Queen  and  the  parents  of  the  bride, 
the  King  and  Queen  of  Denmark,  they 


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proceeded  by  train  through  the  historic 
town  of  Basiiig;stoke  with  its  ruined 
castle,  and  the  still  more  historic  city 
of  Winchester,  once  the  capital  of  Eng- 
land, famous  for  the  cathedral  wherein 
reposes  all  that  is  mortal  of  William 
Rufus,  the  second  of  England's  Nor- 
man kings,  to  the  pretty  seaport  of 
Southampton,  where,  on  the  Royal  yacht 
Fairy,  they  embarked  for  Trinity  Pier, 
East  Cowes. 

As  it  had  been  my  lot  to  witness  the 
embarkation  from  the  same  place  some 
two  and  a  half  years  previously  of  the 
Prince  of  Wales  for  Canada,  so  was  it 
mine  to  see  him  arrive  there  on  the 
evening  of  March  loth  with  his  bride. 
What  a  welcome  he  received  I  It  was 
a  genuine,  hearty,  loyal  greeting. 
Triumphal  arches  were  there  in  the 
streets  through  which  the  newly-wed- 
ded couple  passed,  the  houses  were 
garlanded  with  wreaths  and  ornament- 
ed with  flowers,  transparencies  with 
the  words  "Welcome"  and  "God 
bless  you "  were  everywhere  ;  but 
these  were  a  mere  nothing  to  the 
heartiness  of  the  cheering,  to  the  out- 
spoken enthusiasm  displayed  by  one 
and  all,  to  the  love  felt  for  and  so  un- 
equivocally accorded  by  the  people  to, 
the  eldest  son  of  that  Queen  who  was 
not  only  their  neighbour  but  their 
friend,  and  whom  they  delighted  to 
honour  in  the  person  of  her  son. 

It  was  a  wet,  drizzling  evening,  but 
in  the  half  mile  or  so  between  Trinity 
Pier  and  Osborne  House  the  windows 
of  the  Royal  carriage  were  never  once 
raised,  both  Prince  and  Princess  smil- 
ing and  bowing  an  acknowledgment  of 
their  welcome  along  the  entire  route. 

Eight  years  and  more  passed  by,  and 
once  again  was  the  heart  of  Britain 
and  her  Dependencies  moved  by  the  ill- 
ness almost  unto  death  of  the  Prince  of 
Wales.  It  was  in  December,  1871, 
and  the  Prince  lay  at  Sandringham 
prostrate  with  fever,  hovering  between 
life  and  death.  Never  has  England 
witnessed  such  a  feeling  of  heartfelt 
loyalty,  of  devoted  sympathy  to  and 
with  the  Royal  family  as  was  then 
seen.  The  condition  of  the  Prince  was 
chronicled  hour  by  hour,  and  on  the 

Sunday  when  the  disease  was  at  the 
worst,  and  people  dreaded  that  every 
moment  would  bring  the  news  of  his 
death,  such  crowds  assembled  in  the 
churches  and  places  of  worship  to  join 
in  fervent  prayer  to  God  for  his  recov- 
ery as  had  never  previously  been  wit- 
nessed. Nor  were  these  prayers  con- 
fined to  Christian  churches  and  congre- 
gations nor  to  any  particular  denomin- 
ation. The  Anglican  minister,  the 
Roman  Catholic  priest — the  clergy  and 
lay  preachers  of  every  sect  united  with 
their  people  in  asking  the  Almighty  to 
spare  his  life  while  from  distant  India 
came  the  news  that  in  the  Parsee, 
Buddhist  and  Brahmin  temples  the 
mercy  of  the  "Great  Unseen"  was 
sought  for  by  these  Asiatics  on  behalf 
of  the  life  of  that  Prince  who  might 
one  day  be  their  ruler. 

By  God's  mercy  the  Prince  recover- 
ed and  the  scene  when  he,  early  in  1872, 
went  to  St.  Paul's  Cathedral  to  give 
thanks  for  that  all  but  miraculous 
restoration  to  health,  was  as  solemn  as 
it  was  impressive  and  imposing. 

In  the  long  years  that  have  elapsed 
since  the  Prince  of  Wales  visited  Ca- 
nada, to  quote  an  historic  phrase, 
"  many  things  have  happened  since 
then."  This  sentence  was  uttered  by 
a  well-known  politician  in  England  to 
excuse  his  tergiversation  on  an  impor- 
tant point  of  policy ;  but,  though  many 
things  have  happened,  one  of  those 
which  have  not  happened  is  any  de- 
crease in  interest  by  the  Prince  of  Wales 
in  Canada.  His  sons  have  visited  the 
Dominion  ;  his  sister,  the  Princess 
Louise,  Marchioness  of  Lome,  lived 
here  as  the  consort  of  one  of  the  most 
accomplished  of  our  Governors-Gene- 
ral ;  and  Canadian  statesmen  and  public 
men  of  all  political  parties,  or  of  no 
political  party,  have  always  been  re- 
ceived by  H.R.H..  either  officially  at 
Mariborough  House  or  privately  at 
Sandringham,  with  the  greatest  kind- 
ness, honoured  not  only  as  representa- 
tives of  "  England's  greatest  colony," 
but  as  residents  of  that  land  where  the 
Prince  made  his  first  royal  visit,  where 
he  was  so  loyally  welcomed,  which  fact 
he  remembers,  as  he  is  always  careful 

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to  state,  with  feelings  of 
unmixed  pleasure  and 
gratitude,  and  where  his 
royiil  grandfather  hail  so- 
journed, now  just  one 
hundred  years  ugo. 

The  Prince  gave  a  most 
convincing  proof  of  the 
interest  he  takes  in  Ca- 
nada by  the  reception  he 
gave  to  the  Canadian  de- 
legates at  the  Indian  and 
Colonial  Exhibition,  held 
in  Kensington  in  1886. 
again  at  the  Jubilee  cf 
1887,  and  yet  again  in  the 
Silver  Jubilee  of  1897. 

A  few  wiirds  may  be 
iaidas  to  the  position  the 

Prince  t; 

11  the  p 


Pliologrnl-li€ii  c 

'nlike  some 
of  his  great  uncles,  the 
sons  of  George  III.,  the 
Prince  has  never,  in  the 
forty  years  which  have 
elapsed  since  he  entered 
public  life,  uttered  one 
single  word  in  favour  of, 
or  identified  himself  in 
any  way  with,  any  of  the 
various  political  parties. 
Though  he  is  well  known 
to  be  capable  of  forming 
an  opinion  on  public  questions,  and 
though  he  is  generally  believed  to  take 
a  keen  interest  in  political  controversy, 
his  mind  to  everyone  on  such  matters  is 
as  impenetrable  as  the  Sphinx. 

His  relations  with  Lord  Palmerston 
were  as  cordial  as  those  with  Lord 
Derby.  He  was  equally  the  friend  of 
Earls  Russell  and  Beaconslield.  His 
friendship  for  Mr.  Gladstone  is  well 
known,  and  he  has  been  a  visitor  at 
Hatfield  and  Dalmeny,  the  seats  of 
Lords  Salisbury  and  Rosebery  respec- 
tively. He  has  entertained,  and  does 
entertain,  men  whose  opinions  are  as 
divergent  as  the  poles  ;  among  such 
may  be  named  the  Archbishop  of  Can- 


BurkinghaiH  Palart  in  iSg},  fy  Giinn  &■  Stuarl.  Loadai, 

terbury  and  Mr.  John  Morley,  Sir  Wil- 
liam Harcourt  and  Mr.  Arthur  Balfour, 
Mr.  Joseph  Chamberlain  and  Mr.  A.  J. 
Mundella,  Sir  John  A.  Macdonald  and 
Sir  Wilfrid  Laurier,  besides  manyolhers 
that  might  be  mentioned,  notablyjoseph 
Arch,  the  famous  agricultural  labourers' 

Truly  has  the  Prince  of  Wales  "a 
goodly  heritage,"  and  it  is  the  earnest, 
heartfelt  prayer  of  all  those  over  whom 
he  may  be  one  day  called  to  reign  that 
he  may  fulfil  the  promise  of  his  youth 
and  manhood,  and  that  the  reign  of 
Edward  Vll.  will  add  one  more  bright 
and  glorious  page  to  the  annals  of  the 

Thos.  E.    Champion, 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 


BY  SAMUEL  BRAY,  C.E.,  D.  and  O.L.S. 
With  Drawings  by  W,  Goode,  from  Sketches  by  the  Author. 

Lake  Winnipeg,  have  their  headquar- 
ters here.  They  are  well  equipped 
with  steam'tug;s,  barges  and  fii>hing 
boats,  and  have  large  establishments 
at  different  points  on  the  lake,  where 
the  fish  are  frozen  and  then  shipped  to 
West  Selkirk  in  barges  properly  ar- 
ranged for  the  purpose.  From  West 
Selkirk  the  fish  are  forwarded  to 
different  points,  principally  in  the  Un- 
ited Slates. 

I  arrived  at  West  Selkirk  after  the 
fishing  boats  had  ceased  to  make  their 
usual  trips.  However,  after  some  de- 
lay we  secured  a  passage  to  Grand 
Rapids  with  the  fishing  tug  Idell, 
which  left  West  Selkirk  on  the  21st 
August,  having  in  tow  an  almost  empty 
barge.  The  Idell  was  a  small  boat  lit- 
erally filled  with  wood  to  supply  its 
own  engine.  As  we  would  have  very 
little  space  to  move  about  in  and  would 
have  to  suffer  considerable  annoyance 
from  smoke  and  heat  on  the  tug,  we 
decided  to  take  up  our  quarters  for  the 

TN  the  autumn  of  1894  I  was  sent 
-1-  under  instructions  from  the  De- 
partment of  Indian  AFairs  to  arrange 
some  land  matters  and  to  survey  the 
limits  of  certain  lands  to  be  set  apart 
as  Indian  Reserves  at  points  on  the 
Saskatchewan  River,  Moose  Lake  and 
the  Carrot  River.  At  West  Selkirk  I 
engaged  an  assistant  ;  this  young 
gentleman  was  the  only  white  man  1 
had  with  me.  At  each  Indian  settle- 
ment I  engaged  as  many  Indians  or 
Half-breeds  as  were  required  for  the 
work  and  paid  all  of  them  off  at  its 
conclusion,  except  three  or  four  who 
were  engaged  as  cook  and  canoe-men 
to  take  us  on  to  the  next  Indian  settle- 

West  Selkirk,  a  terminus  of  abranch 
line  of  the  Canadian  Pacific  Railway,  isa 
prosperous  town,  situated  on  the  west 
bank  of  the  Red  River  and  about  six- 
teen miles  from  its  mouth.  A  number 
of  fishing  companies,  who  carry  on 
their  operations    on   a    large    scale  in 



trip  on  the  barge,  although  we  then 
had  to  prepare  our  own  meals  and  to 
make  shake-downs  for  ourselves  by 
way  of  beds.  We  had  for  fellow-pas- 
sengers the  Indian  Agent  in  charge  of 
the  "  Pas  "  Agency,  and  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company's  agent,  in  charge  of  the 
Post  at  Chimawawin  on  Cedar  Lake. 
The  clear,  bracing  air,  and  abundance 
of  room  on  the  barge  made  the  trip  up 
the  lake  very  enjoyable. 

We  arrived  at  Grand  Rapids  on  the 
24th  and  pitched  our  camp  at  the  Hud- 
son's Bay  Company's  post  on  the  north 
bank  of  the  river.  Grand  Rapids  is 
well  named.  There  the  great  Sas- 
katchewan River,  after  rushing  down 
a  veritable  "grand  rapids,"  enters 
Lake  Winnipeg.  The  river  for  the  last 
ten  miles  of 
its  course  is 
a  succes- 

sengers  and  freight  at  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company's  post  at  the  foot  of  the 
rapids,  and  a  tramway,  three  and  a 
half  miles  long,  conveyed  them  to  the 
steamboat  landing  above  the  rapids. 
This  traffic  has  been  stopped  for  sev- 
eral years  and  consequently  the  very 
fair  buildings  above  the  rapids  are  not 
used  at  all,  and  those  below  only  oc- 
casionally. Already  they  are  showing 
signs  of  neglect  and  decay. 

On  the  evening  of  my  arrival,  after 
the  usual  pow-wow  with  the  Chief  and 
Councillors  of  the  Grand  Rapids  In- 
dian Reserve,  I  arranged  to  proceed 
the  next  day  with  the  survey  required 
at  that  point.  Our  first  day's  work 
was  confined  almost  wholly  toa  "mus- 
keg."    We  have  very  extensive  tracts 

miles  a- 
bove,  but 
even  it  can  be  easily  run  in  a  boat  or 
canoe.  The  ascent  is  very  difficult, 
however.  The  Hudson'sBayCompany's 
btge  York  boats  were  formerly  tracked 
up,  and  two  steam-boats  were  some 
years  ago,  after  three  weeks'  hard 
work,  pulled  up  these  four  miles  of 

Prior  to  the  advent  of  a  railway  to 
Prince  Albert,  steamboats  plied  up 
and  down  the  Saskatchewan  for  two 
or  three  seasons,  from  Edmonton  to 
the  head  of  the  rapids,  a  distance  by 
the  river  of  nearly  one  thousand  miles. 
Now  only  one  steamer  makes  an  an- 
nual trip  with  supplies  for  the  different 
Hudson's  Bay  Company's  posts.  The 
lake  steamboats  used  to  land  their  pas- 

of  land  in  Canada  covered  with  "mus- 
keg." A  muskeg  may  be  described  as 
a  moss  or  peat  swamp,  sometimes  bare 
of  trees,  but  usually  covered  with  scat- 
tered, small  tamaracs  or  spruce.  The 
moss  or  peat  varies  in  depth  from  two 
feet  to  considerably  over  one  hundred 
feet.  In  the  spring  the  muskegs  are 
full  of  water  which,  throughout  the 
summer,  slowly  dries  or  drains  off.  In 
the  fall  some  of  them  are  fairly  dry, 
but  usually  they  remain  damp  and  wet. 
On  account  of  the  softness  and  depth 
of  the  wet  moss  of  this  particular  muS' 
keg,  we  sank  from  six  to  eight* 
inches  at  every  step,  and  as  I  had  not 
been  out  of  an  office  for  a  long  I 
there  was  one  very  tired   man  in  1 

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that  evening.  Great  interest  is  begin- 
ning to  be  taken  in  muskegs  generally 
on  account  of  the  apparent  success  of 
experiments  made  to  compress  the 
peat  into  a  hard  and  valuable  fuel. 
For  many  years  the  dried  peal  has  been 
extensively  used  in  Europe  for  disin- 
fecting purposes,  for  littering  horses, 
etc.  Indian  women  use  the  pure  moss 
daily,  after  drying  it  well,  to  swaddle 
their  babies  in,  and  it  is  reported  that 
it  answers  this  purpose  to  perfection. 

On  the  3rd  September  we  left  Grand 
Rapids.  Two  boats  or  skiffs  with  our 
camp  outfit  and  some  provisions  were 
taken  over  the  tramway  to  the  landing 
above  the  rapids  where  they  were 
launched.  The  ascent  of  the  six  miles  of 
rapids  was  very  laborious.  Our  boat* 
men,  who  knew  the  river  well,  took 
advantage  of  every  eddy  and  every 
piece  of  slack  water ;  but  long  stretches 
could  only  be  ascended  by  towing,  or 
tracking  as  it  is  locally  termed.  One 
of  the  Indians  walked  along  the  shore 
towing  the  boat  by  means  of  a  long 
line  attached  to  it,  while  another  sat 
in  the  boat  and  carefully  steered  it  to 
avoid  rocks  and  shoals. 

The  next  day  we  were  windbound 
at  Cross  Lake.  With  good  boats  we 
might,  with  great  labour,  have  made 
some  headway,  but  we  were  afraid  to 
venture  on  the  lake  during  the  high 
wind  with  the  ones  we  had.  On  the 
7th  we  met  the  canoe  supplied  by 
the  Government  for  the  use  of  the  In- 
dian Agent  at  the  "Pas,"  who  had 
sent  it  down  for  my  use  ;  the  two  boats 
we  had  were  therefore  sent  back  to 
Grand  Rapids.  The  change  to  the 
canoe  was  a  welcome  one.  It  was  very 
large,  sailed  well,  and  was  safe  even  in 
a  stiff  breeze. 

All  the  shooting  we  had  up  to  this 
date  amounted  to  about  two  dozen  par- 
tridges. I  tried  to  get  a  shot  at  a  peli- 
can, of  which  there  are  always  a  number 
at  some  point  in  the  Grand  Rupids,  but 
did  not  succeed.  On  nearing  Chima- 
wawin,  at  the  head  of  Cedar  Lake, 
ducks  began  to  be  plentiful,  and  I  shot 
several  while  sitting  in  the  canoe. 

The  approach  to  Chimawawin  is  by 
one  of  the  many  channels  which  form 

the  delta  of  the  Saskatchewan.  These 
channels  are  closely  flanked  with  tall 
reeds.  Here  are  met  the  first  indica- 
tions of  the  manner  in  which  thousands 
of  square  miles  of  land  in  the  Saskat- 
chewan district  have  been  formed. 
The  mud  and  debris  brought  down 
by  the  river  is  now  being  deposited 
in  and  is  slowly  but  surely  filling 
up  Cedar  Lake  ;  at  the  same  time  the 
continuous  scouring  of  the  stream  at 
the  outlet  of  the  lake  is  slowly  lower- 
ing the  level  of  the  water.  Thus,  year 
by  year  lands  that  were  once  covered 
with  water  slowly  become  dry. 

The  flat  district,  through  which  the 
Saskatchewan  River  splits  into  chan- 
nels, and  large  portions  of  which  at 
some  periods  of  the  year  are  vast 
swamps  and  marshes,  extends  from 
Cedar  Lake  westward  for  about  two 
hundred  miles,  and  it  may  roughly  be 
estimated  to  have  an  average  width  of 
one  hundred  mites.  The  rivers  and 
channels  throughout  the  district  are 
fringed  with  timber,  usually  small  pop- 
lar, but  in  some  stretches  spruce,  tam- 
arac  and  poplar  a  foot  in  diameter  are 
found.  Back  from  this  fringe,  which 
averages  about  five  chains  in  width,  the 
whole  country  is  an  open  marsh  or 
prairie.  The  Indians  who  inhabit  this 
district  are  well  named,  with  reference 
to  the  country  they  inhabit,  the 
"Swampy  Crees,"  They  bear  an  ex- 
cellent character.  I  found  them  to  be 
earnest,  hard-working  fellows,  always 
willing  to  half-kill  themselves  in  their 
endeavours  to  please,  provided  always 
that  they  were  treated  with  reasonable 
consideration.  They  never  lose  their 
tempers,  and  no  amount  of  work,  wet, 
heat  or  cold  could  affect  their  good 
nature  or  stop  the  laugh  and  joke 
around  the  camp  fire. 

At  Chimawawin  there  is  a  school 
maintained  by  the  Department  of  In- 
dian Affairs,  and  an  Enjjjish  Church 
mission.  The  mission  was  then  in 
charge  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Sinclair,  an 
Indian.  While  there  we  attended  the 
services,  which  were  conducted  almost 
entirely  in  the  Cree  language.  The 
Bible,  the  prayer-book  and  a  book  of 
hymns  have  been  translated  into  Cree. 

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The  hymns  are  in  Cree  and  written 
both  in  Syllabic  characters  and 
phonetically  with  the  English  alphabet. 
A  very  pleasing  and  impressive  cus- 
tom of  the  Indians  is  that  before 
retiring  for  the  night  one  of  them  offers 
up  a  prayer ;  they  then  all  pray  together, 
generally  repeating  the  Lord's  Prayer, 
and  conclude  with  singing  a  hymn — all 
in  Cree,  of  course.  This  happened 
every  evening  ;  and  when  we  were 
camped  far  away  from  any  post  or  In- 
dian settlement  this  simple  evening  ser- 
vice in  the  solitude  and  stillness  was  very 

The  Indians  throughout  the  district 
live  in  small  log  houses  of  their  own 
construction.  They  are  usually  about 
twelve  feet  square,  well  plastered  with 
clay,  and  in  a  few  cases  whitewashed. 
A  chimney  of  clay  and  stones  is  built, 
usually  in  the  middle  of  the  side  oppo- 
site the  door.  The  fireplaces  are  nar- 
row and  high,  so  that  the  wood  is 
placed  in  them  standing  on  end  instead 
of  lying  flat.  A  bar  of  iron  is  built 
into  the  chimney,  to  which  the  pots  for 
cooking  purposes  are  hung.  The  ceil- 
ings of  these  houses  are  very  low,  and, 
in  fact,  so  are  nearly  all  the  houses  of 
the  Hudson's  Bay  Company.  I  had  the 
advantage  of  my  assistant  in  this  mat- 
ter. As  he  was  six  feet  four  inches 
higfh,  he  could  rarely  hold  his  head  up 

without  getting  hurt,  whereas  I,  with 
my  scant  five  feet  six,  could  boldly 
walk  into  any  house  without  any  fear 

The  advance  these  Indians  have 
made  in  civilization,  and  their  peace- 
ful and  prayerful  habits,  reflect  the 
greatest  credit  on  the  Hudson's  Bay 
Company's  officers  and  on  the  mis- 
sionaries who  have  been  among 
them.  I  should  add,  however,  that 
they  have  not  learned  that  cleanliness 
is  next  to  godliness,  as  by  far  the 
greater  number  of  them  are  extremely 
averse  to  the  frequent  use  of  soap  and 
water.  Their  improvidence  is  also  de- 
plorable. When  they  have  fish  they 
eat  it,  not  caring  whether  there  is 
enough  for  the  morrow  or  not.  Much 
less  do  they  make  proper  provision  for 
the  winter.  Similarly  when  they  have 
moose-meat,  geese  or  ducks  they  will 
eat  unsparingly,  and  give  freely  to 
neighbours  and  friends  until  all  is  done; 
consequently  in  the  winter  months, 
when  hsh  are  difficult  to  catch  and 
game  scarce,  they  frequently  suffer 
from   hunger. 

We  went  up  the  river  from  Chima- 
wawin  about  ten  miles  to  a  place  much 
frequented  by  the  Indians  for  tishing, 
and  called  by  them  "  Poplar  Point," 
where  we  surveyed  a  small  reserve  and 
returned    to   Chimawawin.     We    then 

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immediately  left  for  Moose  Lake,  where 
we  were  eng^aged  for  some  time. 

The  Moose  Lake  Indians  were  in  an 
extremely  destitute  condition.  The 
children  were  clothed  in  rags  that  were 
scarcely  any  protection  against  the  very 
cold  weather  we  had  while  we  were 

The  land  in  this  district  is  rocky  and 
barren,  but  the  water  is  receding  from 
large  tracts  of  flat  lands,  which  will 
soon  become  fertile  prairies.  The 
Chief  of  the  band  informed  me  that  the 
level  of  the  water  in  the  different  lakes 
is  three  feet  lower  than  it  was  thirty 
years  ago.  I  was  much  surprised  to 
learn  that  a  rough  stone  hedge  on  high 
and  dry  land  near  the  Hudson's  Bay 
Company's  post  was  constructed  in  the 

a  survey  of  a  small  reserve  at  Clear 
Water  Lake,  distant  about  thirty-five 
miles.  This  trip  involved  two  long 
portages  of  eight  and  four  miles  respec- 
tively. On  our  return  we  surveyed 
some  hay  lands  near  the  "Pas"  for  the 
band.  We  flnished  this  work  late  in 
October  and  we  still  had  surveys  to 
make  at  three  different  points  on  the 
Carrot  River. 

The  Carrot  River  enters  the  Saskat- 
chewan at  a  short  distance  from  the 
"Pas."  It  drains  a  large  tract  along 
the  base  of  the  Pasquia  Hills.  At  this 
time  of  the  year  the  water  in  long 
stretches  of  the  river  was  very  low,  so 
that  it  would  have  been  a  very  labor- 
ious affair  to  ascend  the  river  with  even 
small  canoes,  besides  it  was  so  late   in 

ncA-a-  pp  Pr>d-  v>^>  AC"D  rv-^rbu 
PA-^A-  ACTi  i>np"  <4>pnV'^rqA->bAr- 

Q-DCbA--^'    Pr-'d^ACU  Vdr^  Ar^  <3-PC-br 

<iJ3-  bPr^b*  RQ_;  [r<ST^=  bcrrd-ra 

Syllobic  wrihinpuaed  by  hhe  CrC€B. 

water  as  a  pier,  and  was  used  for  many 
years  for  landing  purposes. 

We  again  returned  to  Chimawawin 
in  order  to  proceed  to  the  "  Pas."  On 
the  way  up  we  shot  a  number  of  geese, 
ducks  and  snipe  from  our  canoe  and 
without  turning  out  of  our  course.  At 
the  "Pas"  the  Saskatchewan  River 
has  cut  or  passed  through  a  high 
ridge  which  at  one  time  must  have 
been  the  retaining  wall  of  an  immense 
lake.  The  Hudson's  Bay  Company  has 
an  important  post  here  ;  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church  and  the  Christian 
Brethren  have  missions,  and  a  neat 
English  church  and  rectory  are  promi- 
nent buildings  in  the  little  village. 

After  the  usual  pow-wow  with  the 
Chief  and  Councillors  we  left  to  make 

the  fall  that  we  would  certainly  have 
been  frozen  in  and  would  then  be 
obliged  to  abandon  our  canoes.  1 
therefore  decided  to  wait  at  the  "  Pas" 
until  the  ice  in  the  river  was  safe,  which 
did  not  take  place  until  the  i6th  Nov. 

While  waiting  at  the  "Pas"  for  the 
ice  to  take,  we  frequently  went  shoot- 
ing prairie  chickens  and  always  met 
with  fair  success.  Once  we  went  a 
long  distance  from  the  "Pas"  to  try 
to  get  some  geese  and  another  time  to 
have  a  shot  or  two  at  ducks,  but  with 
no  success  at  all.  The  birds  were  then 
congregating  for  theirflight  to  the  south 
and  were  very  wary. 

The  rapidity  with  which  our  Indians 
would  pluck,  clean  and  cook  eight  or 
ten  ducks  for  lunch  was  simply  admir- 


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able.  Of  course,  we  had  to  shut  our 
eyes  and  not  be  at  all  particular  in  the 
matter  of  dirt.  I  think  in  the  healthy, 
out-of'door,  camp-life  one  soon  becomes 
convinced  that  his  digestive  apparatus 
can  attack  successfully  any  quanity  of 
foreign  matter  that  may  have  become 
incorporated  with  the  food  while  it  is 
being  prepared. 

I  had  half-a-dozen  rough  toboggans 
made  at  the  "  Pas"  and  all  my  party 
except  mysell  hauled  a  well-loaded  to- 
boggan up  the  Carrot  River.  The  first 
day  we  had  glare  ice  but  made  excellent 
progress  as  we  had  provided  ourselves 
with    ice-creepers.      These    were  very 

sufficient  food  for  themselves  or  they 
would  entail  a  considerable  expendi- 
ture if  fed  with  rabbits. 

We  duly  completed  the  surveys  at 
the  above  mentioned  places.  Long  be- 
fore arriving  at  Red  Earth  we  had 
made  inquiries  as  to  what  means  could 
be  had  to  enable  us  to  get  out  by  way 
of  Fort  a  la  Corne  and  had  been  in- 
formed that  there  were  ponies  at  Red 
Earth,  but  that  practically  there  was  no 
trail  from  Red  Earth  to  Fort  a  la  Corne 
and  only  at  rare  intervals  had  any  one 
made  the  trip.  This  proved  to  be  cor- 
rect. Only  two  ponies  could  be  had 
and    only    one    man    knew    the   route. 

simply  made  with  a  punch  and  some 
hoop  iron  which  we  obtained  from  some 
old  barrels  at  the  Hudson  Bay  Com- 
pany's post. 

At  one  time  I  had  almost  decided  to 
move  with  dog  trains  instead  of  hand 
toboggans,  but  dogs  require  to  be  fed 
from  one  to  three  fish  per  day,  accord- 
ing to  their  size,  or  an  equivalent  in 
rabbits.  No  fish  were  to  be  had  at 
Salt  Channel  and  very  few  at  Shoal 
L.ake  or  Red  Earth,  and  considering 
hoiv  long  the  dogs  would  be  idle  at 
each  place  while  we  were  making  the 
surveys,  it  is  evident  that  they  would 
be    unable   to   haul   much   more  than 

This  man  was  known  as  Mackay  Meg- 
uanakiscum,  a  son  of  the  old  Council- 
lor and  Chief  of  the  band,  Meguana- 
kiscum,  who  also  owned  the  ponies. 

I  made  an  invariable  rule  to  employ 
the  Chief  and  Councillors  of  each  band 
to  assist  in  making  the  surveys  for 
their  respective  bands.  The  old  Coun- 
cillor Meguanakiscum  especially  engag- 
ed my  attention  by  his  very  respectable 
appearance  and  by  his  quiet,  earnest 
and  unassuming  manner.  This  man 
and  all  his  band  are  pagans.  I  tried 
to  ascertain  what  their  peculiar  belief 
might  be,  but  all  I  learned  was  that 
they  believed  in  a  Great  Spirit  who  was 

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over  all;  in  a  wicked  spirit,  in  the  re- 
ward of  the  good  after  death  and  in 
the  punishment  of  evil-doers. 

We  left  Red  Earth  on  the  fifteenth 
of  December  for  the  six  days'  tramp  to 
Fort  A  La  Come,  a  distance  of  about 
130  miles.  The  two  ponies  pulled  to- 
boggans which,  although  lightly  loaded 
with  our  baggage  and  provisions,  were 
too  heavily  loaded  for  the  trail  they 
had  to  go  over.  My  party  now  con- 
sisted of  my  assistant,   the  cook    Bap- 

1  have  not  the  slightest  doubt  the  good 
old  man  was  commending  me  to  the 
care  of  the  Great  Spirit. 

Whoever  thinks  that  a  six  days' 
tramp  in  winter  across  the  country  with 
the  snow  about  a  foot  deep,  over  fallen 
timber  and  through  thickets  and  camp- 
ing without  tents  (for  we  left  our  tents 
at  Red  Earth)  is  fun,  has  notions  of 
such  work  very  different  from  mine. 
The  first  day  or  two  passes  very  well, 
but   towards  the  end  the  tramp  gets 

tiste  Buck,  Mackay  Meguanaktscum 
and  myself.     As  this  trip  was  one  of 

considerable  importance  in  the  opinion 
of  these  Indians,  the  old  Councillor 
came  out  about  a  mile  on  our  way  to 
bid  us  good-bye.  He  had  a  long  and 
earnest  talk  with  Baptists  and  his  son 
Mackay,  bade  good-bye  to  my  assist- 
ant and  then  gave  me  the  benefit  of 
quite  an  oration,  which  being  in  Cree 
I  could  not  understand.  During  the 
■oration  he  frequently  pointed  upwards; 

very  wearisome  and  monotonous.  The 
ponies  for  the  first  day  or  two  went 
ahead  with  a  will ;  they  would  go  over 
everything  or  through  everything  in  the 
shape  of  down  timber,  brush  or  thick- 
ets, and  where  they  went  the  tobog- 
gans had  to  follow  with  many  a  bump 
and  upset.  These  little  animals— they 
were  scarcely  bigger  than  large  Shet- 
land ponies — had  nothing  to  eat  but 
the  grass  they  could  get  at  night  by 
pawing  away  the  snow.     Nothing  else 


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could  be  obtained  for  them.  The  un- 
wonted work  and  hard  fare  soon  told 
on  them.  On  the  fourth  day  they  were 
very  tired  animals,  and  on  the  evening 
of  the  sixth,  when  we  were  still  fifteen 
miles  from  La  Corne,  they  were  so  tired 
as  to  be  scarcely  able  to  move.  They 
had  worked  faithfully  and  well  without 
having  once  required  the  whip. 

Mackav  pointed  to  his  animals,  mak- 
ing signs  that  we  must  camp  as  they 
could  go  no  farther.  With  the  aid  of 
a  small  Cree  vocabulary  we  managed 
to  make  Mackay  understand  that  it 
was  important  to  push  on  to  La  Corne 
that  night  in  order  to  obtain  fresh 
horses  with  which  to  reach  Prince 
Albert  in  time  to  catch  the  train  for  the 

on  the  route.  This  gentleman  pro- 
cured us  horses  and  a  sleigh  and  at 
noon  we  left  for  Prince  Albert,  dis- 
tant about  fifty  miles.  We  had  to 
change  horses  midway  and  arrived  at 
Prince  Albert  a  couple  ot  hours  before 
the  train  left.  At  La  Corne  I  paid  olf 
and  bade  good-bye  to  Baptiste  and 
Mackay  who,  after  a  rest  of  two  days, 
returned  with  the  ponies  to  Red  Earth. 
I  was  anxious  to  pay  a  visit  to  a 
barber  as  soon  as  possible  as  my  hair 
had  not  been  cut  for  four  months,  but 
as  we  arrived  at  Prince  Albert  at  z  a.m. 
and  left  at  4  a.  m. ,  there  was  no  oppor- 
tunity there.  My  long  hair,  tuque,  moc- 
casins and  generally  rough  appearance 
brought  me  many  a  stare  on  the  cars 

South  the  next  day,  and  that  we  would 
require  to  rest  several  hours  and  then 
push  on  again.  Baptiste  and  Mackay 
made  several  signs  to  uswhich  we  could 
not  understand;  however,  after  a  good 
supper,  and  three  hours  of  rest,  we  saw 
what  they  meant.  Very  much  to  our 
surprisie  they  lightened  the  toboggans 
by  each  taking  a  heavy  pack  on  his  own 
back.  The  ponies  were  thus  enabled 
to  make  good  headway  and  we  duly 
arrived  at  La  Corne  that  night. 

W^e  there  received  the  same  kind 
welcome  and  attention  from  the  Hud- 
son Bay  Company's  Agent  that  we  had 
invariably  received  from  the  Hudson 
Bay   Company's  Agents  at  evey   post 

from  Prince  Albert  to  Winnipeg,  which 
was  quite  disconcerting  to  a  man  of  my 
modest  temperament.  Immediately  on 
my  arrival  at  Winnipeg  I  paid  the  con- 
templated visit  to  the  barber.  This, 
with  a  fur  cap  instead  of  a  tuque,  boots 
Instead  of  moccasins  and  a  fresh  over- 
coat instead  of  the  camp-stained  one  I 
had  been  wearing  made  quite  a  differ- 
ence in  my  outward  man.  The  next 
morning  the  guard  of  the  Manitoba 
House  shouted  as  usual,  "All  aboard 
going  east,"  and  kept  looking  around 
for  some  one.  Suddenly  he  recognized 
me,  saying,  "  Well,  Sir,  I  did  not  know 
you  at  all  ;  the  clerk  told  me  the  same 
gentleman    would    leave    to-day 


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came  yesterday,  and  i  am  looking'  for 
him."  No  wonder  he  did  not  recog- 
nize me.  The  somewhat  civilized  being 
he  now  saw  was  not  a  bit  like  the  rough 
hairy  individual  he  had  seen  arrive  the 
day  before. 

On  my  arrival  at  Ottawa  I  found 
that  my  friends  had  not  heard  from  me 
for  three  months,  and  fears  were  enter- 
tained for  my  safety.      I  had  frequently 

sent  letters  by  chance  messenger:*  to 
Cumberland  House,  where  there  is  a 
monthly  mall  service.  These  letters 
arrived  in  Ottawa  two  weeks  after  my 
return,  and  a  budget  of  letters  that  I 
would  have  been  very  g'lad  to  have  re- 
ceived while  I  was  in  the  wilderness 
duly  followed  me  back  and  came  to 
hand  some  time  after  my  return. 


YOUR  asking  me  to  respond  to  the 
toast  of  Literature,  brings  to  my 
mind  a  story  that  is  going  the  rounds 
in  I-ondon. 

A  party  of  Jews  were  discussing*  lit- 
erature. One  of  them  remarked  that 
Zangwill  was  clever — very  clever. 

"  Zangwill  clever  ? "  objected  an- 
other of  the  party  ;  "he's  not  clever — 
that  is  nothing,  his  writing  about  the 
Jews.  He  knoirs  us,  for  he  is  a  Jew 
himself.  Why  should  he  not  write 
about  u.sP  But  look  at  Baringf  Gould. 
He  knows  nothing  about  us,  and  see 
how  much  he  writes  about  us.  That  is 
clever,  if  you  like." 

So  you  have  probably  honoured  me 
with  this  oilice  much  upon  the  prin- 
ciple that  1  shall  emulate  Baring  Gould. 

About  literature  I  know  very  little 
— in  fact  I'm  almost  inclined  to  quar- 
rel with  the  very  word  literature  it- 
self. If  I  could  find  a  strong  Saxon 
word  to  replace  it  I  would  never  use  it 
at  all.  Literature,  as  a  generic  term 
for  the  concrete  thoughts  of  men  done 
into  the  cold,  unsympathetic  world  of 
black  and  white,  has  much  too  soft  a 
ring.  It  is  suggestive  of  dilettanteism, 
of  Lake  Como  in  everlasting  sunshine. 
It  is  trippingly  sweet.  We  speak 
glibly  of  literature,  and  feel,  somehow, 
as  though  we  had  given  our  boots  an 
extra  rub  with  the  brush  of  fine  culture. 

What  we  need  here  in  Canada,  and, 
for  the  matter  of  that,  wherever  the 
elongated,  crimson -dotted  postage 
stamp  goes,  is  a  literature  that  abounds 
in  stories  of  strong,  true,  beautiful 
deeds.  But  above  all  else  we  must 
have  Truth.  We  are  strong,  rugged 
people.  Our  country  is  great  in  its 
God-given  strength  —  its  masculine 
beauty.  Canada  is  one  of  Mother 
Earth's  bravest,  sturdiest  sons.  Even 
our  climate  is  boisterous  and  strength- 
producing.  Strength  begets  Truth, 
and  Truth  makes  Strength  God-like. 

It  is  almost  impossible  to  separate 
the  idea  of  Truth  and  Strength.  The 
student  who  enters  the  university 
of  literature  should  behold  in  large 
letters  of  gold  the  twin  words,  "Truth" 
and  '*  Strength."  The  original  people 
of  this  land,  stretching  from  ocean  to 
ocean  as  it  does,  had  truth,  and  sim- 
plicity, and  strength.  I  will  touch  on 
what  literature  has  done  for  them  later 
on.  Our  poets  must  be  strong  and 
truthful — rather  than  giving  all  their 
thoughts  to  finish  and  light- tripping 
metre.  If  we  may  hope  for  a  Cana- 
dian Bobbie  Burns,  the  man  with  the 
God-gift  of  song  born  in  him,  we  must 
teach  our  children  to  live  close  to 
Nature,  and  never  shake  off  her  sim- 
plicity. And  our  prose  writers,  our 
story-tellers    must  go  armed  in  Truth 


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and  Strength  if  they  would  scale  the 
cold  glacier  of  criticism.  Our  news- 
paper writers  and  editors,  for  in  their 
hands  is  more  of  literature  and  the 
making'  of  literature  than  the  people 
whu  talk  so  smoothly  about  it  would 
have  us  believe,  stand  in  Canada  far  in 
the  vanguard  of  Truth  and  Strength. 
Their  work  is  clean  and  wholesome 
and  virile. 

To-day  the  Canadian  press  has 
nothing  to  fear  from  comparison  with 
the  whole  world.  Canadian  papers 
are  a  credit  to  this  strong.  God-fearing 
land  of  unfettered  expression.  I,  for 
one,  do  not  want  to  know  of  all  the 
shame,  and  misery  and  crime,  real  and 
imaginary,  that  is  in  the  world.  I 
haven't  time  to  go  into  it.  My  moral 
nature  needs  healthier  food;  and  my 
family,  young  and  ready  for  impres- 
sions, cannot  wade  through  chronicles 
of  violence  and  infamy  day  after  day, 
and  still  believe  in  the  good  of  human- 
ity. From  the  one  or  two  Canadian 
papers  that  come  into  my  hands  I  get 
all  the  really  great  things  that  are 
happening  in  the  world,  and  1  escape 
the  fil^h.  This  may  be  lack  of  enter- 
prise, but  I  am  content. 

Good  as  our  papers  are,  we  should 
go  further — we  should  foster  a  litera- 
ture that  will  be  placed  on  our  shelves, 
and  which  will  hand  down  to  posterity 
the  good  and  true  things  this  young 
generation  is  doing,  and  their  fore- 
Others  did  before  them.  We  have  one 
magazine  that,  equally  with  our  papers, 
is  a  credit  to  Canada.  That  Canada 
gives  it  the  support  it  should  have  and 
is  entitled  to,  I  do  not  believe.  If  it 
does  not  come  up  to  the  mark  of  the 
high-priced  United  States  magazines, 
shall  we  buy  the  New  York  magazine 
only  and  let  our  own  young  literature 
die?  Shall  we  let  our  churches  go  unsup- 
ported because  Talmage  is  in  New 
York — because  he  is  stronger  than  our 
local  man?  With  all  respect  to  the 
cloth,  we  need  them  no  more  than 
we  need  a  healthy  literature. 

So  far  literature  has  done  little  for 
Canada.  She  is  the  "Lady  of  the 
Snows,"   the  abode  of  wicked  French 

priests,  who  are  only  kept  from  ruining 
everybody  by  the  gallantry  of  the  hero. 
I  have  seen  some  of  these  French 
priests,  and  never  saw  but  good  of 
their  work.  In  the  far  North-west  a 
good  French  priest,  Father  Lacomb, 
has  laboured  among  the  Indians,  as 
though  they  were  his  own  children,  for 
a  lifetime.  A  sweet-faced  old  gentle- 
man he  is  now,  and  all  he  has  for  his 
long  life  of  hardship  and  exposure  is 
the  knowledge  that  he  has  tried  to  do 
his  Master's  bidding.  I  think  he  has 
done  it.  But  literature  passes  him  by, 
and  builds  a  romance  in  which  the  cen- 
tral figure  is  a  wicked  priest. 

Tbegreat  Northwest  is  a  land  of  bliz- 
zards, peopled  by  bad  Indians.  I  want- 
ed to  do  some  blizzard  literature  myself, 
and  started  to  get  the  genesis  of  those 
frozen  siroccos.  I  asked  people  about 
them,  and  1  wrote  to  people  about 
them.  I  found  only  one  man  who  had 
been  in  a  true  blizzard,  and  he  was  too 
badly  frightened  to  remember  anything 
about  the  physical  aspect  of  the  thing. 
It  was  like  a  hunt  for  the  sea  serpent. 
They  are  as  rare  as  literature  has 
taught  us  they  are  plentiful. 

What  we  want  is  realism,  a  modern 
realism  that  will  let  the  world  see  us 
as  we  are — a  strong,  healthy,  growing 
nation ;  full  of  life,  and  aspirations,  and 
determination  :  and  through  it  all  you 
may  weave  the  golden  thread  of  love 
if  you  like,  for  all  that  is  founded  on 
love  is  good  and  true.  The  literature 
of  Christ  was  all  love. 

Let  us  have  a  literature  that  will 
deal  with  the  problems  of  life  as  it  is, 
not  of  a  life  that  is  dead  and  obsolete 
and  of  which  no  man  may  speak  with 
certainty,  a  literature  that  will  bring 
the  classes  to  a  better  understanding 
of  each  other  and  each  other's  needs — 
not  that  will  bring  them  together,  for 
that  is  an  Utopian  realization  that 
would  only  bring  disaster;  rather  that 
will  keep  them  lovingly  apart;  teach 
them  not  to  plot  against  each  other, 
not  to  hate  each  other,  but  to  know 
that  each  one  in  his  allotted  place  is  the 
order  of  the  universe. 

Much  literature  to>day  pictures  the 


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employer  as  a  grasping;,  avaricious, 
siave-driving  demon.  An  employer  of 
this  order  is  a  good  substantial  rib  in 
the  structure  of  a  modern  novel.  On 
the  other  hand,  ail  the  employees  are 
ready  for  revolt,  for  almost  any  crime, 
incapable  of  good.  Then  one  day  we 
read  in  a  paper  of  an  engineer  on  some 
railroad  giving  his  life  for  the  people 
placed  in  his  hands.  A  captain  and  a 
crew  (if  they  are  British  or  American) 
cheerfully  %o  to  their  death  that  the 
women  and  children  may  be  saved. 
We  read  that  in  the  newspapers  ;  so  it 
is  not  literature,  and  is  soon  forgotten. 
The  books  with  the  other  in,  the  false 
literature,  lie  on  our  tables,  and  are  on 
the  shelves  of  our  libraries.  We  cher- 
ish them,  and  the  newspaper  is  thrown 
in  the  waste  basket.  Let  us  trans- 
plant this  spirit  of  truth  from  our 
newspapers  to  our  fiction,  and  we 
shall  have  a  fiction  that  is  true.  If 
our  young  writers  would  try  to  give  us 
stories  dealing  with  the  problems  and 
trials  and  mysticisms  of  the  life  all 
about  us,  they  would  do  more  to  build 
up  a  national  literature  than  they  ever 
will  by  posing  over  the  more  or  less  in- 
accurate records  of  the  life  that  is  ex- 


We  have  a  great  field  for  our  story 
writers  and  poets  In  the  Northwest. 
There  is  local  colour  in  abundance, 
and  the  colour  of  God,  which  is  the 
beauty  of  the  universe.  I  have  been 
in  many  parts  of  the  world,  the  Orient 
and  the  Occident;  I  have  seen  beauti- 
ful places  and  magnificent  parks ;  grand 
gardens  and  noble  avenues  ;  but  let  me 
tell  you,  gentlemen,  that  the  most 
beautiful  spot  on  this  round  earth  is 
the  valley  ot  the  Northern  Saskatche- 
wan,  in  this  strong,  rugged  country 
that  stands  as  a  rampart  between  the 
Atlantic  and  Pacific.  Go  there,  gentle- 
men, in  August  and  September,  and 
you  will  see  God's  own  garden  stretch- 
ing mile  on  mile,  from  silver  stream  to 
the  eternal  blue  of  the  distant  "Rock- 

Crimson,  and  gold,  and  azure  ;  and 
the  soft,  pearly  greys  of  delicate 
grasses,   and  shrubs,  that  carpet  the 

black  mould  until  you  sink  knee  deep 
in  a  wealth  of  trailing,  purple-tipped 
pea-vine,  and  pink  flesh-coloured  cas> 
tillja.  And  not  one  blade  of  all  this 
splendour  was  sown  or  planted  by  the 
hand  of  man  ;  not  one  design  in  the 
whole  vast  park  laid  out  by  human  gar- 
dener. There  you  will  be  face  to  face 
with  the  beauties  of  God's  gifts,  and  no 
warning  to  "keep  off  the  grass."  You 
may  roll  down  those  jewelled  hills,  all 
set  with  ruby,  and  amethyst,  and  pearl 
flowers,  like  a  boy.  And  as  you  roll 
there  will  be  in  the  air  the  whittle  of 
crescent  wings,  as  the  grouse  and  par- 
tridge cut  through  the  warm  sunshine, 
startled  by   the  queer,  hobgoblin  ap- 

If  our  young  writers  wish  for  a  true 
literature,  let  them  go  there,  out  into 
the  open,  into  the  university  of  God, 
even  as  Moses  did  for  forty  years.  Be- 
side all  this  splendour,  of  which  1  can 
give  you  little  conception,  the  magnifi- 
cence of  Solomon  was  poor  and  taw- 
dry indeed.  Even  the  lilies  were  ar- 
rayed in  greater  glory  than  he. 

And  of  the  people  in  that  land,  what 
has  literature  taught  us?  Do  we  know 
the  Indian  P  I  fear  not.  We  know 
that  he  has  forever  and  ever  prowled 
about  with  scalping  knife  in  hand,  and 
heart  set  on  murder.  But  we  do  not 
know  that  be  is  far  more  truthful  than 
the  white  man  ;  that  you  may  leave 
your  shack  door  open,  not  unlocked 
alone  but  wide  open,  and  all  that  an 
Indian  loves  hanging  about  within 
reach,  and  you  will  find  it  all  there 
when  you  return  one  month,  or  six; 
from  that  date — that  is,  unless  there 
have  been  white  men  about  P  And 
there  was  morality  with  them.  A  nose- 
less woman  now  and  then  bore  testi- 
mony to  the  fact  that  violation  of  the 
seventh  commandment  met  with  swift 
punishment  And  who  shall  describe 
the  love  of  these  people  for  their  chil- 
dren ?  Their  grief  over  the  death  of  a 
child  was  terribly  tragic  in  its  intens- 
ity. Women  took  sharp  flints  and 
scored  deep  gashes  in  their  limbs  to 
dull  the  pain  tugging  at  their  heart- 

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And  the  wonder  of  it  is  that  there  is 

any  honesty  or  truth  left  amongf  them, 

because    of    their    treatment    by    the 

higher  civilized  Pale-face. 


As  long:  as  a  Scotchman  breathes, 
(and  while  air  is  as  cheap  as  it  is,  that 
will  be  a  long:  time, )  the  name  of  Burns 
will  ling'er.  i  might  even  add,  after  that 
also — for  there  will  always  be  Scotch- 
men— they  are  the  chosen  people.  This 
is  because,  as  everyone  knows,  his 
literature  was  of  the  heart,  and  the 
soul  of  things — simple  and  close  to 
nature — therefore  close  to  the  hearts  of 
his  countrymen.  Blinded  by  a  false 
conception  of  the  meaning  of  literature, 
his  worth  and  truth  were  not  known 
as  they  should  have  been,  until  it  was 
too  late  But  for  the  posterity  that  has 
taken  Shakespeare,  and  Goethe,  and 
Burns  to  its  heart,  it  is  never  too  late. 

That  is  also  the  literature  we  need 
here — the  literature  that  Louis  Kossuth, 
the  Hungarian,  went  to  for  his  match- 
less English  eloquence — the  Bible  and 
Shakespeare.  If  a  man  reads  these 
two  books,  and  Bums,  and  Scott,  and 
Kipling,  and  cannot  write  that  which  is 
good  afier,  he  had  better  get  into  the 
literary  senate  at  once. 

Now  every  writing  has  two  distinct 
values — -the  immediate,  or  cash  value, 
which  is  always  smalt,  because  of  the 
rapacity  of  editors,  and  the  future,  or 
reputation -bull  ding  value. 

As  soon  as  a  tale  is  printed,  it  begins 
to  earn  for  the  writer  something — the 
character  of  that  something  will  de- 
pend upon  the  amount  of  ability,  and 
truthful,  honest  work  the  author  has 
put  into  it.  The  prospective  value  is  by 
far  the  greater  to  the  young  writer,  and 
should  be  kept  severely  in  view. 

1  admitit  is  difficult  to  keep  the  mind 
6rmly  fixed  on  a  crown  of  laurel  in  a 
matter  of  forty  years,  while  tlie  stom- 
ach is  clamouring  for  a  present  instal- 
ment of  beans,  or  cabbage  or  anything 
nice  and  warm  and  filling.  But  there 
is  little  hope  unless  the  laurel  can  be 
kept  somewhere  in  the  corner  of  the 
eye.     It  does  not  much  matter  whether 

the  talc  be  sad  or  gay,  for  there  is 
much  sweet  sadness  in  life,  so  long  as 
it  be  wholly  truthful  and  of  use,  the 
workmanship  the  best  the  author  can 


This  spirit  of  truth  and  strength 
breathes  throughout  the  work  of  the 
present  master  of  fiction,  Kipling. 
Shall  we  shrink  from  his  writing  be- 
cause of  the  almost  barbaric  fidelity  to 
truth  which  is  true?  Then  shall  we 
shrink  from  the  Bible,  and  ask  for  a 
more  genteel  book  to  mould  our  lives 
upon.  Truth  may  jar  sometimes,  but 
the  fault  is  ours,  not  truth's.  It  is 
this  sublime  fealty  to  truth  which  has 
made  Kiplingthe  greatest  living  writer. 

And,  in  a  lesser  degree,  we  have  an 
immediate  proof  of  this  in  the  splendid 
book  Steevens  has  given  us,  called, 
"  With  Kitchener  to  Khartum."  Kip- 
ling's work  has  made  the  writing  of 
this  book  possible  —  and  profitable. 
And  if  we  hark  back  along  this  line  of 
truth — or  realism — healthy  realism,  we 
shall  presently  come  to  Dickens.  He 
was  the  father  of  this  good  school  that 
is  breathing  of  health  to-day. 

But  to  return  to  Steevens*  book,  for 
I  wish  to  speak  a  little  of  it.  In  it  we 
find  passages  that  make  men  bless  the 
land  of  their  nativity ;  thank  God 
that  they,  too,  are  Britons,  as  they 
read.  !s  that  not  good  literature  ? 
Yes,  it  is.  But  it  is  not  smothered  in 
fine  writing. 

And  of  the  Arabs  he  speaks  with 
fine  admiration.  One  picture  I  remem- 
ber. The  rifles  and  quiclc-firing  ma- 
chine guns  of  the  white  troops  had 
mowed  down  three  thousand  of  the 
desert-dwellers  as  they  charged  the 
British  lines.  At  last  there  were  but 
three  Arabs  living.  These  still  stuck 
to  the  colours,  and  advanced  against 
the  whole  European  force.  The  guns 
belched  forth  again,  and  but  one  was 
left.  He  raised  his  spear  on  high,  and, 
shouting  "  Allah  !  Allah  !  "  charged  as 
though  he  had  ten  thousand  men  at  his 

That  is  what  we  want  in  our  litera- 
ture— more  simplicity  and  faith.  More 
"Allah!  Allah!" 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 


A  Romance  in  Twelve  Chapters. 


Digest  op  Prbvious  Chapters. — Sidney  Manin,  a  youngs  Bastonia.n,  is  visiting  the 
Lanaing  farm.  Mr.  Lansing  is  a  widower,  bul  has  living  with  him  his  daughter  Vashti  and 
his  niece  Mabella,  two  very  charming  maidens.  Lansing  Lansing,  a  cousin  of  both  these  giHs, 
is  in  love  with  sweet,  honest  Mabclta  ;  while  Sidney  hecomcs  enamoured  of  the  proud,  stately 
Vashti.  But  Vashli  is  in  love  with  her  cousin  Lansing,  or  "  Lanty,"  as  he  is  called,  and  she  is 
deadly  jealous  of  Mabella's  happiness.  In  this  state  of  mind  she  accepts  Sidney's  attentions, 
and  ultimaleiy  decides  to  marry  him.  The  following  chapter  turns  on  the  action  of  Sidney  in 
leading  her,  for  the  Riial  act  in  this  curious  courtship,  to  the  Mullein  meadow  where  a  few  days 
before  he  had  overhead  Lanlj'  tell  Mabella  of  his  love.  The  place  was  accursed  In  the  eyes  of 
Vashti,  for  it  was  there  that  she  had  lost  the  man  in  whom  her  affections  were  reaJly  centred. 


THE  ^rey  of  twilight  was  paling  the 
gold  of  the  after-glow.  A  quiet 
hush  had  fallen  upon  the  earth — rather 
intensified  than  disturbed  by  the  lowing 
of  far-away  cattle.  It  was  the  quiet  of 
raptured  atitici patio n,  as  if  great  hands 
held  the  earth  up  to  the  baptismal  foot 
of  the  heavens  to  receive  the  chrism  of 
night ;  and  the  earth,  like  a  wise  and 
reverent  child,  waited  with  hushed 
heart-beats  for  the  benediction. 

Sidney  Martin  waited  in  the  porch 
for  Vashti  to  keep  her  tryst,  and  pre* 
sently  he  heard  her  footsteps.  The 
echo  of  each  step  gathered  in  his  heart, 
dilating  it  with  happiness  as  an  already 
full  glass  is  brimmed  above  the  brink 
by  drop  after  drop.  From  his  position, 
where  he  stood  spellbound,  he  com- 
manded an  angled  vista  of  the  stairs, 
and  slowly  she  descended  within  his 
range  of  vision  ;  first  the  beautitui  foot, 
proportioned  so  perfectly  to  the  body 
it  bore,  then  the  long  exquisite  lines 
from  heel  to  hip,  and  the  yet  more  ex- 
quisite curve  from  hip  to  shoulder,  and 
the  melting  graduation  of  breast  to 
throat,  and  then  the  perfect  face  of  her. 
She  paused  for  a  moment  upon  the  last 
step,  as  if  loath  to  step  out  of  her  pure 
rarefied  atmosphere  of  maidenhood 
into  the  air  vibrant  with  the  sobs  and 
sighs,  the  hopes  and  despairs,  the  gains 
and  losses  of  hutnan  life ;  and  stand- 
ing thus,  for  one  fleeting  second  there 
rose  before  Vashti  a  vision  of  renuncia- 

tion. She  saw  herself,  lonely  but  clad 
in  righteousness  going  on  her  way; 
but  the  next  instant  the  austere  dream 
vanished,  brushed  aside  by  a  hateful, 
sneering  cynicism.  With  a  heart  full 
of  self-mockery,  more  evil  than  her 
evil  intent,  Vashti  took  the  step  to 
Sidney's  side,  and  stood  there  the  typi* 
iication,  as  he  thought,  of  gentle  dig- 
nity and  dignified  womanhood. 

"  How  good  you  are,"  he  said  gen- 

They  took  the  way  almost  in  silence. 
She  wondered  vaguely  where  he  would 
take  her,  to  the  far-away  pastures,  the 
little  knolls  nestling  upon  the  hills 
which  he  loved,  or  to  the  oak  trees 
where  they  had  talked  in  the  morniag. 
When  they  reached  the  road  she  sub- 
mitted her  steps  to  his  guidance  wilb 
outward  meekness  and  inward  indiffer- 
ence. He  turned  away  from  Dole.  It 
was  to  be  the  far-away  pastures  then — 
as  well  there  as  anywhere.  But  he  had 
passed  the  gate  !  And  then  it  dawned 
upon  her.  He  was  taking  her  to  Mul- 
lein meadow  ! 

Her  indifference  fell  from  her  like  a 
rent  garment,  bitter  remembrance  tore 
at  her  heart.  How  dare  he  bring  her 
here  and  bid  her  masquerade  amid  these 
grey  boulders  where  she  had  known 
such  agony  I  She  imagined  those  im- 
placable rocks  rejoicing  in  her  humilia- 
tion. Were  not  her  own  curses  yet 
hissing  across  the  eerie  barrenness  of 
this  wide  waste   field?     Ah,  even  so 


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Vashti — if  our  curses  do  not  seek  us 
out  we  ourselves  return  to  their  realm; 
there  is  great  affinity  between  a  curse 
and  the  lips  which  utter  it.  The  flame 
of  her  resentment  fluttered  to  her 
cheeks  g'iving'  them  an  unwonted  touch 
of  rose.  As  they  reached  the  entrance 
to  Mullein  meadow,  she  half  stumbled, 
she  recovered  herself  quickly,  Sidney's 
swift  touch  being  hardly  needed  to  re- 
store her  poise. 

To  Sidney,  her  silence,  the  strange, 
sweet  colour  in  her  cheeks,  her  uncer- 
tain step,  pointed  but  to  one  thing — 
the  natural  agitation  of  a  girl  about  to 
have  a  man's  love  laid  at  her  feet. 

Surely  never  man  was  so  exquisitely 
befooled  as  this  one  P 

He  took  the  path  straight  for  the 
little  spot  where  that  happy  betrothal 
had  taken  place.  Vashti  hesitated — 
this  was  too  much. 

"  1= — ,"  she  opened  her  lips  to  speak, 
but  the  words  died  away,  unmerciful  re- 
solution freezing  them  at  their  source. 

"Come,"  urged  Sidney  with  tender 
iasisteace,  and  with  an  appearance  of 
sweet  submission  she  yielded,  und  at 
length  they  stood  where  those  oihers 
had  stood.  The  same  grey  sky  bent 
above  them,  the  same  quiet  hush  brood- 
ed over  the  desolate  reaches,  the  same 
clear  star  hung  scintillant  in  the  sky, 
and  Sidney,  taking  her  hands,  which 
trembled  by  reason  of  the  terrible  re- 
straint she  was  putting  upon  her  anger, 
began  to  speak — very  gently,  but  with 
an  intensity  which  made  his  words  in- 
stinct with  life  and  love. 

"You  know,"  he  said,  "  why  !  have 
asked  you  to  come  out  to-night,  but 
you  cannot  know  why  I  have  brought 
you  here  to  this  spot  ?  It  is  because  it 
is  a  place  of  happy  auguries.  Here, 
not  knowing  whither  I  strayed  I  came 
upon  the  betrothal  of  Lanty  and  Ma- 
bella.  Here,  heartsick  with  envy  of 
their  happiness  I  turned  away  to  face 
the  desolate  greyness  of  the  twilight. 
Here  I  saw  a  star,  one  lone  star  in  the 
grey,  which  seemed  to  promise  hope, 
and  in  my  heart  1  named  it  Vashti. 
See  -there  it  is,  but  more  golden  now, 
more  full  of  beneficent  promise,  bur- 
dened, as  it  seems  to  me,  with  gracious 

benediction.  Oh,  Vashti,  when  I  left 
those  two  in  the  solitude  of  their  hap- 
piness you  cannot  dream  how  my  heart 
cried  for  you.  All  the  way  home  na- 
ture's voices  whispered  in  my  ear 
"Vashti — Vashti,"  and  my  heart  re- 
sponded "Vashti,"  and  it  seemed  to 
me  there  was  no  other  word  in  all  the 
universe,  for  in  it  were  bound  all  mean- 
ings. It  seemed  to  me  there  was  no 
other  idea  worth  comprehending  but 
the  identity  behind  that  word.  Vashti 
say  that  you  love  me — that  you  will 
marry  me.  Here,  where  my  heart 
knew  its  bitterest  longing,  satisfy  it 
with  one  syllable  of  your  voice.  Let 
me  also  build  tabernacles  here  as  the 
holy  place  where  happiness  descended 
upon  me  ;"  he  let  fall  her  hands. 
"Vashti,  you  know  that  1  love  you; 
give  me  your  hands  in  symbol  of  your- 
self as  a  free  gift." 

He  held  out  his  hands.  Slowly, 
gently,  trustingly,  as  a  woman  who 
knows  well  what  she  does,  and  will 
abide  by  it,  Vashti  Lansing  laid  her 
hands  in  his.  His  vibrant,  slender 
fingers  closed  upon  them.  There  was 
an  instant's  pause 

"You  love  me!"  he  cried,  as  one,  after 
a  long  novitiate,  might  hail  the  goddess 
unveiled  at  last.  Then  drawing  her  to 
him  he  ki.ssed  her  on  the  mouth,  and 
from  that  moment  was  hers — body — 
and  yet  more  terrible  bondage~~mind  ; 
and  she,  with  an  astute  a^d  evil  wis- 
dom, forebore  to  make  any  conditions, 
any  demands,  till  he  had  tasted  the 
sweets  of  her  acquiescence. 

Would  any  man  give  her  up,  having 
held  her  in  his  arms,  having  touched 
her  lips?  With  shameless  candour  she 
told  herself.  No.  So  she  rested  her 
head  upon  his  shoulder,  whilst  he  whis- 
pered in  her  ear  the  divine  incoheren- 
cies  of  love,  and  intoxicated  with  the 
charm  of  the  woman  in  his  arms, 
touched  the  white  throat  by  the  ear 
where  a  curl  of  dark  hair  coiled  like  a 
soft,  sweet  shadow.  A  long,  con- 
tented, yet  questioning  sigh  came  to 

"Tell  me?"  he  said. 

"You  will  let  me  live  always  in 
Dole?"  she  said. 

:y  Google 



"  Always — always,  dear  one  !  In 
Dole  or  anywhere  else  you  like." 

"  Ah  !  "  she  said  in  a  tooe  of  dreamy 
happiness — "you  will  take  old  Mr. 
Didymus's  place  ;  we  will  live  in  the 
parsonage  ;  what  a  happy  life  we  will 
have  t  " 

"  Vashti!"  said  Sidney,  almost  reel- 
ing before  the  shock  of  her  words.  As 
a  beautiful  white  mist  rolls  back  to 
show  some  scene  of  sordid  miserj',  so 
the  glamour  of  the  last  few  weeks  lift- 
ed, and  displayed  vividly  to  Sidney  all 
the  awkwardness  of  the  position 
which  he  had  created  for  himself. 
Ever  since  that  day,  when  stung  by 
Sally's  impertinent  words  he  had  agon- 
ized alone  upon  the  hillside,  nothing 
whatever  had  transpired  to  awaken 
its  memory.  A  deference  rather  more 
pronounced  than  necessary  upon  the 
part  of  the  village-folk,  a  certain  con- 
straint upon  the  part  of  the  young 
men  had  been  the  only  visible  signs 
that  Dole  remembered.  But  upon  :he 
other  hand  nothing  had  occurred  which 
gave  him  the  opportunity  of  explain- 
ing to  Vashti,  nor,  indeed,  had  he 
ever  been  able  to  decide  how  he  could 
explain  to  her,  even  if  given  the  open- 
ing. He  had  gone  to  church  with  the 
Lansings  Sunday  after  Sunday.  Under 
the  circumstances  any  other  course 
would  have  been  an  insult  to  the  rigitne 
of  the  house  in  which  he  was  staying. 
He  had  found  nothing  in  the  little 
churchwhichjarred  upon  his tastesor re- 
volted his  principles.  The  simple,  pious 
sermons  of  gray-haired  Mr.  Didymus 
were  entirely  inoffensive  toanyonenotof 
nuiitce  prepense  irritable.  The  sad  ex- 
periences of  his  long  life  had  mitigated 
his  judgments.  The  man  who  in  his 
fiery  youth  scoffed  at  death-bed  re- 
pentances now  spoke  feelingly  of  the 
thief  on  the  cross  ;  the  elect  murmured 
among  themselves  that  Mr.  Didymus 
was  "  growin'  old  and  slack."  Cer- 
tainly his  sermons  were  not  learned, 
but  neither  were  they  devoid  of  a  cer- 
tain eloquence,  for  the  old  man  knew 
his  Bible  by  heart,  and  above  all  they 
were  free  from  the  anecdotal  inanity  ; 
it  would  never  have  occurred  to  the 
old,  plain-spoken  man   to  stand  in  his 

pulpit  telling  his  people  tales  suitable 
for  the  comprehension  of  three-year- 
old  children.  There  was,  perhaps,  the 
merest  trace  of  asceticism  in  Sidney 
Martin's  nature,  and  the  simple  doc- 
trine of  these  people,  their  fatalistic 
creed,  their  bare  little  church,  appealed 
to  him  as  no  gorgeous  ritual  or  ornate 
sanctuary  could  have  done.  The 
hoarse,  uniuneful  singing  of  these 
country  folk,  taking  no  shame  of 
their  poor  performance,  so  that  it  was 
in  praise  of  God,  stirred  his  spiritual 
sympathies  more  profoundly  than  any 
cathedral  organ — yet — he  was  a  crea- 
ture of  reason,  and  he  had  always  con- 
sidered the  Catholic  Church  more  logi- 
cal than  any  other,  and  above  all,  he 
had  no  belief  whatever  in  the  Christian 
doctrine.  Ruled  by  a  pure  and  lofty 
ideal  of  Truth,  his  life  had  been  ideally 
good.  His  lofty  aspirations  did  not 
lift  him  beyond  sympathy  with  his  fel- 
lows, only  above  their  vileness.  He 
adored  nature  with  an  almost  heathen- 
ish idolatry,  and  had  such  reverence 
for  her  slightest  manifestation,  that  he 
never  willingly  broke  a  leaf  or  crushed 
an  insect.  Literally,  he  worshipped 
the  works,  but  not  the  Creator.  And 
lo  ! — here  was  the  woman  round  whom 
his  very  soul  twined,  taking  it  for 
granted  that  he  believed  all  she  did, 
and  that  his  life  could  compass  no 
higher  happiness  than  to  preach  this 
belief  to  others  ;  and  what  excellent 
grounds  he  had  given  her  for  thinking 
thus  !  All  these  things  mirrored  them- 
selves in  his  mind  in  an  instant,  then 
he  said : 

"  But  Vashti,  1  have  no  need  to  do 
anything.  There  are  many  worthier 
men  than  I  to  fill  Mr.  Didymus's 
place.  I  am  not  a  preacher,  you 

"Oh,  but  you  will  be  for  my  sake," 
she  said,  and  laid  her  head  down  again 
upon  his  shoulder  like  a  child  who  has 
found  rest. 

Truly  there  are  more  tempting  dev- 
ils than  the  urbane  gentleman  of  the 
cloven  hoofs. 

"  What  had  you  meant  to  do  ?  "  she 

"  Indeed,  1  had  mapped  out  no  defi- 

Digilized  by  Google 


nite  course,"  he  answered.  ,"  My 
mother's  money  makes  life  easy  for  me, 
you  know,  but  I  had  meant  to  do 
something,  certainly.  Only  1  was  tak- 
ing- my  time  looking  about.  I  didn't 
want  to  do  anything  which  would  cut 
some  fellow  who  needed  it  out  of  a  liv- 

"  Let  me  decide  for  you,"  she  mur- 
mured ;  the  breath  of  the  words  was 
warm  on  his  ear.  "Think  how  happy 
you  could  make  us  all.  They  all  think 
so  much  of  you  in  Dole  on  account  of 
your  prayer,  Mary  Shinar  says  you 
are  a  saint."  Then,  her  arms  stealing 
about  his  neck,  she  added,  "Sidney, 
for  my  sake  you  said  you  would 
sacrifice  anything.  I  didn't  think  this 
would  be  a  sacrifice.  I  thought  it 
would  be  a  delight ;  but  if  it  is  a  sac- 
rifice make  it  for  my  sake." 

Alas  he  had  fallen  among  the  toils  ! 
He  took  swift  illogical  thought  with 
himself.  He  would  preach  to  them  a 
pure  and  exalted  morality.  He  would 
be  the  apostle  of  nature's  pure  creed. 
He  would  make  Dole  a  proverb  In  all 
New  England.  He  would  teach,  he 
would  have  a  library,  he  would  marry 

Glamoured  by  his  love  and  his  soph- 
istry, his  judgment,  his  sense  of  right 
and  wrong  failed  him.  Sidney  caught 
his  Delilah  to  his  heart, 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  wish,  my  sweet," 
he  said;  "and  now  tell  me  you  love 

"I  love  you,"  she  said,  repressing 
the  triumph  in  her  voice.  "  I  love  you 
and  I  am  proud  of  you,"  she  said  again, 
holding  her  head  high.  If  she  had 
lost  much  in  Mullein  meadow  she  had 
also  gained  a  triumph  there. 

The  short  American  twilight  was 
darkening  to  night.  The  weird  old 
Wulders  sentinelled  round  them  might 
have  been  a  druidical  circle,  and  she 
the  priestess  fulfilling  the  rites.  Nor 
was  the  victim  wanting ;  only  instead 
of  slaying  the  body  with  a  golden  knife 
she  had  killed  the  soul  with  silvery 

"Ah,"  said  Sidney  as  they  turned  to 
thread  their  way  out  of  Mullein  mea- 
dow, "  surely  this  place  is  holy." 

She  paused,  looking  at  him — "  Do 
you  not  think  that  suffering  sanctifies 
more  than  joy?"  she  asked. 

"No,  not  such  joy  as  ours,  as 
Lanty's  and  Mabella's." 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said. 

"  But  I'm  sure  of  it!"  he  answered; 
then  with  a  lover's  fantastical  fondness 
he  went  on,  "I  would  not  be  surprised 
if  when  we  visited  this  spot  again  we 
found  it  hedged  in  by  lilies,  tall  white 
eucharist  lilies,  set  to  keep  others 
from  straying  into  consecrated  ground." 

"  Sidney,"  she  said,  "promise  that 
you  will  never,  never  ask  me  to  come 
here  again — it  is  too  sacred." 

He  was  deeply  touched  by  her  deli- 
cate, sensitive  thought. 

"Dear  heart,"  he  said,  "never;  yet 
do  not  the  most  reverent  lips  approach 
the  sijcramental  cup  more  than  once?" 

"  You  will  make  a  capital  preacher," 
she  said,  "but  you  must  not  persuade 
people  to  do  things  against  their  con- 

"  Vou  shall  do  as  you  like  always." 

They  were  on  the  highway  by  this 
time;  a  waggon  overtook  them,  and 
then  went  on  at  a  foot  pace  just  in  ad- 

Vashti  seemed  to  walk  with  inten- 
tional swiftness. 

"Vashti,"  he  whispered,  "don't 
walk  so  fast.  Let  those  people  get  out 
of  sight." 

"  We  must  ^o  on,"  she  said. 

Sidney  thought  this  touch  of  shyness 
adorable  in  her  who  was  so  self-poised, 
yet  he  protested  with  zeal.  Do  men 
always  try  to  destroy  what  they  ad- 

Suddenly  Vashti  bethought  herself 
that  an  extra  rivet  was  never  amiss 
when  one  wanted  bonds  to  hold,  so 
with  a  sigh  as  of  timorous  yielding, 
she  gave  him  her  lips  again  in  the 
shadow  of  the  porch,  and  left  him  with 
a  glory  of  happiness  bedimmtng  his 
mental  vision. 

The  house  was  dim-lit  and  silent. 
After  the  labours  of  threshing-day 
every  one  was  worn  out.  Lights  glim- 
mered in  the  bedrooms  but  the  living 
rooms  were  dark. 

Sidney  '•aced  up  and  down  the  little 


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garden  path  for  long,  feeling-  "  caught 
up  to  heaven,  yet  strangely  knit  to 

Vashti  sought  her  room,  and  pulling 
up  the  blind  looked  out  where  Mullein 
meadow  lay. 

"A  holy  place!"  she  said  to  herself, 
"I  wish  t  could  pile  the  fire  to  burn  all 
threeof  them.  *A  tabernacle,' he  said; 
I  wish  I  might  build  me  an  altar  there 
and  slay  them  on  it!  I  don't  think 
even  an  angel  would  stay  my  hand.  'A 
sacrament;'  1  wish  I  had  the  filling  of 
their  cups,  wormwood  should  they 
drink  and  the  waters  of  Marah  down 
to  the  very  dregs — all  three !" 

Her  nostrils  dilated  like  a  brute's 
upon  traces  of  the  prey.  In  the  breast 
of  such  a  woman  love  denied  turns  to 
gall.  She  paced  up  and  down,  up  and 
down — her  rage  lent  expression  in  gro- 
tesque gestures  and  evil  words,  words 
which  with  Vashti  Lansing's  teaching 
and  training  she  was  superbly  brave  to 
use.  It  grew  very  late;  her  eyes  were 
almost  wild.  She  took  the  guttering 
candle  in  one  hand  and  crept  along  the 
passage  to  Mabella's  room.  She  opened 
the  door  and  went  in.  Mabella  lay 
asleep,  her  candid  face  budding  from 
the  prim  little  frill  like  a  flower  from 
its  calyx,  Vashti  bent  above  her  a  hag- 
gard and  violent  face  distorted  by  pas- 
sion. Her  eyes  blazed;  her  lips  drawn 
tensely  back  showed  the  strong  white 
teeth.  She  leaned  over  the  sleeper, 
her  strong  fingers  closing  and  unclos- 
ing; a  long  tress  of  her  hair  fell  across 
her  shoulder  suddenly  and  touched  the 
dreamer's  cheek — Mabella  stirred,  rais- 
ed her  hand  half  way  to  her  cheek, 
murmured  with  a  tittle  happy  smile — 
"Lanty — Lan — "  her  voice  died  away; 
her  soft  regular  breathing  continued 
unbroken.  At  the  sound  of  that  name 
uttered  thus  a  dreadful  purpose  lighted 
Vashti's  eyes.  The  fingers  of  her 
strong  hand  opened  wide  and  advanced 
themselves  toward  the  white  throat 
which  pulsed  upon  the  pillow;  at  that 
moment  the  guttering  candle  fell  over. 
Its  burning  wick  and  melted  grease 
struck  the  hand  which  held  it,  Vashti 
instinctively  uttered  a  smothered  cry 
and  jerked  her  hand;  the  light  went 

out.  Mabella  stirred ;  Vashti  sped  to 
her  room  and  got  the  door  closed  just 
as  Temperance  came  to  her  door  and 

"  Did  any  one  call?" 

There  was  no  response. 

"Are  you  all  right,  Mabella?"  she 
said  going  across  the  hall  to  Mabella's 

"Ves,"  said  Mabella  sleepily.  "I 
think  1  knocked  something  over  with 
my  elbow  and  the  noise  woke  me  up." 

"Are  you  all  right,  Vashti?" 

"Yes,  what  is  it?"  answered  Vashti. 

"  Nothin'—  thought  I  heard  a  noise." 

For  hours  Vashti  Lansing  lay  and 
trembled  with  the  only  fear  she  knew  ; 
the  fear  of  herself.  How  near  she  had 
been  to  terrible  crime,  only  she  and 
Omnipotence  could  know.  She  reflect- 
ed upon  consequences  and  told  herself 
that  never  again  would  she  give  herself 
such  an  opportunity.  At  last  she  sank 
to  rest,  to  be  tormented  till  dawn  by 
a  strange  vision. 

It  seemed  to  her  she  stood  again  in 
Mullein  meadow,  within  the  circle  of 
boulders,  and  that  slowly,  slowly  they 
closed  in  upon  her  ;  closer  and  closer 
they  came,  narrowing  about  her  with 
gradual  but  horrible  certainty,  and 
at  last  they  touched  her  and  held 
her  tight,  shackling  her  hand  and 
foot  so  that  she  could  not  move 
a  muscle,  but  they  did'  not  hill 
her  J  and  whilst  she  was  thus  held 
all  Dole  defiled  before  her ;  the  vil- 
lagers pointed  at  her  with  scornful 
fingers  and  passed^whispering  on;  her 
mother,  who  had  been  long  dead,  pass- 
ed with  her  father,  but  they  did  not  look 
at  her,  nor  seem  to  know  she  was  there, 
nor  did  old  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Didymus  who 
presently  joined  her  father  and  mother. 
Then  the  scene  grew  brighter  and  she 
saw  Temperance  and  Nathan  together ; 
they  shook  their  heads,  looking  at  her 
sadly  but  coldly  ;  then  a  sweeter 
radiance  flooded  the  view  upon  which 
she  looked,  and  Mabella  and  Lanty 
with  little  children  about  them  drew 
nigh  her,  and  they  spoke  kindly  words 
to  her,  and  put  a  shade  over  her  head 
to  keep  off  the  sun's  heat,  and  raised  a 
cup  to  her  tips,  and  one  of  their  child- 

ly GoO^lc 



ren  came  and  held  up  a  child's  hap- 
hazard bouquet  to  her  nostrils  that  she 
might  smell  the  flowers.  She  tried  to 
repulse  these  kindnesses  ;  she  tried  to 
drive  Mabella  and  Lanty  away  with  evil 
words,  but  the  stones  pressed  too 
tig'htly  upon  her  to  admit  of  speech, 
and  while  she  writhed  thus  impotently, 
she  looked  far  away  where  one  wander- 
ed alone  ;  there  were  butterflies  and 
birds  about  him,  and  flowers  springing 
about  his  feet,  and  he  wore  a  look  of 
calm  ineffable  happiness,  and,  yet,  it 
was  not  the  same  happiness  as  shone 
upon  the  faces  of  Lanty  and  Mabella 
which  lighted  the  eyes  of  this  visioned 
Sidney.  But  in  her  dream  Vashti  did 
not  dwell  long  upon  this,  her  thoughts 
reverting  to  the  paralyzing  prison 
which  encompassed  her ;  and  she 
fought,  and  struggled,  and  strove,  yet 
could  not  move  those  terrible  stones, 
and  casting  her  eyes  down  upon  her- 
self, it  gradually  dawned  upon  her  that 
she  could  not  even  stru^le.  The 
terrible  wrenches  and  efforts  she  had 
made  were  but  imaginary,  so  tightly 
was  she  held  that  she  could  not  so  much 
as  twitch  a  flnger.  Thus  the  hours 
passed  with  her. 

Mabella  slept  sweetly  and  health- 
hilly,  so  rapt  in  love  that  even  the  bale- 
ful influence  bending  over  her  so  ter- 
ribly in  the  night  had  had  no  power  to 
disturb  her  rest,  although  the  gaze  of 
even  a  friendly  pair  of  eyes  so  often 
murders  sleep.  Sidney  slept  also  and 
high  above  the  pale  wastes  of  Mullein 
meadow,  the  star  of  promise  still 
shone,  unrecking  of  the  presump- 
tuous human  heart  which  had  dared  to 
dream  its  silvery  splendour  a  pennon  of 


When  Sidney  opened  his  eyes  next 
day  it  was  upon  a  transfigured  world 
that  he  looked.  A  world  golden  with 
imaginings  of  happiness  across  whose 
vistas  shone  a  white  path,  like  (he 
milky  way  in  the  heavens,  marking  the 
life  road  to  be  lYodden  by  Vashti  and 
himself.  Cradled  in  a  happy  trance 
his  heart  knew  no  apprehensions.  At 
such  a  time  retrospect  shares  the  mind 
almost  equally  with  anticipation.     The 

glorious  present  is  made  still  more 
glorious  by  comparison.  As  Sidney 
dwelt  upon  his  past  it  was  borne  in 
upon  him  with  peculiar  force  that  it  had 
been  but  a  curtain  raiser  to  the  real 
drama  of  his  life.  He  had  been  a  popu- 
lar man  as  a  student  and  afterwards 
also,  but  it  seemed  strange  even  to 
himself  how  few  real  ties  he  would  have 
to  sever  in  adopting  this  new  life — so 
radically  different  in  vocation  from  any 
he  ever  dreamed  of  before.  The  fact 
was  that  in  all  his  friendships  he 
had  given  more  than  he  had  re- 
ceived. He  had  give  liberally  of  that 
intangible  vital  capital  called  sympathy 
and  he  had  received  but  little  in  re- 
turn. Although  he  had  not  realized 
it  his  friendships  had  been  only  so 
many  drains  upon  his  vitality.  He 
had  thought  of,  and  for,  his  friends  con- 
tinually ;  they  had  accorded  him  the 
tribute  of  uncomprehending  admira* 
tton  which  bears  the  same  relation  to 
real  sympathy  as  bran  does  to  the  full, 
rich  wheat.  Thus  it  was  that  in  sep- 
arating himself  from  these  friendships 
he  felt  no  wrench.  Separate  from 
them  he  must.  He  knew  that  the 
keeping  of  his  promise  to  Vashti  was 
utterly  incompatible  with  his  old  life  ; 
he  must  "  come  out  and  be  separate  " 
from  all  his  old  associates  and  associ- 
ations. He  felt,  however,  that  this 
would  be  possible  ;  possible  without 
sacrilege.  His  attitude  towards  re- 
ligion had  always  been  defensive  ra- 
ther than  offensive.  He  felt  deeply  the 
pathos  of  the  Christ  drama.  The  fig- 
ure of  the  Man  of  Sorrows  was  a  fii- 
miliar  one  in  the  gallery  of  mental  por- 
traits to  which  this  idealist  had  turned 
in  time  of  trial  for  strength. 

There  was  one  man  whose  verdict 
upon  his  action  he  longed  to  know,  yet 
dreaded  to  ask.  A  strong  soul,  un- 
tamed by  sect,  unshackled  by  formu- 
lated belief.  A  man  whose  magnifi- 
cent active  human  organism  was  hal- 
lowed by  the  silver  thread  of  mystic- 
ism. A  man  whose  splendid  logical 
mind  was  transcended  by  a  subtle 
sense  of  premonition,  intuition,  which 
led  him  far  beyond  where  his  reason  or 
his    scanty    learning   could   bear    him 


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company.  A  man  whose  eyes  looked 
out  wistfully  yet  eag'erly  from  beneath 
penthouse  eyebrows.  A  man  whose 
toil- roughened  fingers  turned  reverent- 
Jy  the  pages  of  books  he  could  not  read; 
FreDch  or  German  books  beyond  his 
ken.  A  man  in  whose  proper  person 
Sidney  had  always  felt  there  was  sym- 
bolled  forth  the  half  blind,  half  percep- 
tive struggle  of  the  human  to  compre- 
hend the  infinite. 

What  would  this  man  think  ef  his 
new  vows  ?  This  man  who  would 
have  died  for  what  the  world  called  his 

Well,  Sidney  told  himself  that  his 
first  devoir  was  to  Vashti  and  the  pro- 
mise made  to  her.  He  would  not  de- 
lay. These  thoughts  bore  him  com- 
pany till  he  was  in  the  halt  He  did 
not  know  the  hour,  but  suddenly  he 
was  aware  of  a  subtle,  penetrating  . 
freshness  in  the  air.  He  looked  out  of 
the  hall  door  :  the  garden  was  dim 
with  autumnal  dew.  Was  it  indeed 
so  very  early? 

He  heard  voices  in  the  kitchen.  He 
found  there  oolyMr.  Lansiogand  Miss 

"  Is  it  so  early  ?  "  he  asked,  smiling. 

"For  the  land's  sakes!  Mr.  Mar- 
tin !  "  said  Temperance.  "  Is  that 
you  ?  " 

Sidney  laughed  aloud  ;  there  was  a 
ring  in  his  voice  which  made  Temper- 
ance regard  him. 

"I  have  been  awake  forages,"  he 
said  ;  "  so  here  I  am." 

Temperance  remembered  certain 
days  in  the  past  when  she  had  been 
wont  to  awaken  ere  the  first  bird  sang 
in  the  dark.  Those  were  the  days 
when  Nathan,  a  hobbledehoy,  too  bash- 
ful to  woo  her  in  daylight,  used  to  way- 
lay her  in  the  lane  when  she  took  the 
cows  back  to  the  field,  and  stand  with 
his  arm  about  her  in  the  dusk. 

Temperance  rubbed  her  eyes. 

"The  morning  sun  do  dazzle,"  she 
said,  giving  unsought  explanation  of 
the  moisture  in  her  eyes. 

"  Better  set  right  down  and  have 
breakfast,"  said  old  Mr.  Lansing. 
"  The  young  folks  is  turrible  lazy,  it 
seems  tome,  nowadays." 

"  Oh,  not  all  of  them,"  said  Sidney. 
"  Look  at  Temperance  !  " 

Old  Lansing  chuckled  delightedly. 

"  Nathan  Peck  had  better  look  out. 
Tem'prins;  I  alius  did  say  you  had  a 
way  with  the  men." 

Temperance  tossed  her  head,  well 

"Will  you  have  your  eggs  fried  or 
biled  ?  "  she  asked  Sidney.  The  blush 
upon  her  gaunt  cheek  giving  her  a 
sadly  sweet  look  of  girlhood. 

Old  Lansing  finished  his  breakfast 
and  pushed  back  his  chair. 

"  You'll  excuse  me, "he  said,  "but 
I've  been  up  sense  cock-crow,  and  I 
havn't  done  a  blessed  thing  but  water 
the  cows.  The  men  are  in  the  barn 
now  waiting.  Tem'prins  '11  give  you 
breakfast.  I'll  warrant  the  girls  will 
be  surprised  when  they  get  down. 
Lazy  critturs  I  Temp'rins,  why  don't 
you  wake  'cm  up  ?  " 

"O  sakes  I  Let  'em  sleep,"  said 
Temperance;  "in  a  few  more  years 
they'll  wake  fast  enough  o'  their  own 
accord.  Laws  \  I  kin  mind  when  I'd 
have  slep'  all  day  if  they'd  let  me  be." 

In  this  homely  sentence  lay  the  se- 
cret of  Temperance's  influence.  This 
gaunt  old  maid  never  forgot  the  work- 
ings of  her  own  youth.  Indeed  now 
that  it  was  past  she  acknowledged  Its 
weaknesses  very  frankly,  and  this  re- 
miniscence made  her  very  lenient  to- 
wards young  people. 

Old  Mr.  Lansing  departed  for  the 
barn,  and  Sidney,  filled  with  impatience 
to  see  Vashti,  paced  up  and  down  the 

Temperance  brought  the  eggs  and 
sat  down  behind  the  tray,  looking  at 
him  with  a  sort  of  pitiful  sympathy  in 
her  keen  eyes. 

Sidney  essayed  to  begin  his  break- 
fast ;  a  smile  twitching  the  corners  of 
his  sensitive  mouth. 

Temperance  watched  him. 

At  length  he  laid  down  his  knife  and 
looked  at  her. 

A  subtle  atmosphei'e  of  sympathy 
made  him  confident  and  expansive. 

"  I  say  Temperance,"  he  said,  "  I 
was  never  so  happy  in  all  my  life.  You 
don't  mind  my  talking  to  you  about  it. 


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do  youP     I'm  so  happy  that — oh  Tem- 
perance. " 

It  was  a  boyish  conclusion;  he 
looked  at  the  gaunt  country  woman; 
herhands  worked  nervously;  she  looked 
as  if  she  frit  the  emotion  which  made 
him  ineloquent. 

"You  have  seen — you  are  pleased?" 
he  continued  in  haphazard  fashion. 

"Bless  your  soul  Sidney,"  burst  out 
Miss  Tribbey,  forgetting'  to  be  formal, 
"I'm  pleased  if  so  be  you're  happy.  I 
ain't  very  religious.  I  expect  I  have  a 
worldly  heart.  I'm  tike  Martha 4n  the 
Bible,  alius  looking  after  cooking  and 
slch,  but  I've  said  to  my  Nathan 
heaps  o'  times,  'He's  a  blessing'  I've 
said  '  to  have  in  the  house,'  and  1  mean 
it.  My  soul !  I  only  hope  Vashti  'II 
come  up  to  your  expectation." 
'  "Ah,  "said  Sidney,  "there's  no  doubt 
of  that.      She's  perfect." 

Miss  Tribbey's  mouth  half  opened, 
then  closed  resolutely.  She  had  her 
own  standard  of  perfection,  but  she 
had  too  much  sense  to  deprecate  the 
lover's  fond  extravagance. 

"I'm  perfectly  content,"  said  Sidney, 

Miss  Tribbey  grew  very  white. 

"  Don't  say  that,"  she  said  earnestly, 
"don't;  no  good  ever  came  of  sich  a 
boiist.  It's  terrible  dangerous  t'  say 
you  are  perfectly  content.  I  never 
knew  good' to  come  of  it — never." 

"But  I  am,"  said  Sidney,  feeling 
happy  enough  to  challenge  the  powers 
of  evil  en  masse. 

"Listen,"  said  Temperance  gravely, 
"don't  say  that,  'Taint  meant  for 
mortal  man  to  be  content.  'Taint  in- 
tended. What  would  make  us  work 
for  Heaven  if  we  was  perfectly  content 
here?  No,  don't  say  it.  I've  known 
one  or  two  people  that  thought  them- 
selves perfectly  content,  and  how  soon 
they  was  brought  down  1  There  was 
Mrs  Winder.  Has  anyone  told  you 
about  Mrs.  Winder?" 

"No,"  said  Sidney,  "but  i  know 
her  by  sight.  She's  got  a  stern 

"Starn!  You'd  be  starn-looking  too 
if  you'd  come  through  what  Sal  Winder 
has.   First  she  married  Joshua  Winder; 

he  was  a  bad  lot  if  ever  there  was  one, 
and  after  they'd  been  married  ten  years 
and  had  four  children  what  does  he  do 
but  up  and  run  away  with  a  bound  girl 
at  Mr.  Phillipses,  a  red-cheeked,  bold- 
faced critter  she  was.  Well,  Sal  never 
said  nothin'.  She  was  left  with  a 
mortgage  and  the  four  children  and  a 
roof  that  leaked.  I  don't  s'pose  anyone 
ever  knowed  the  shifts  Sal  was  put  to 
to  bring  up  them  young  ones  and 
work  that  place  and  make  both  ends 
meet  and  keep  the  roof  of  the  old  house 
from  falling  in.  Mebbe  you've  remark- 
ed the  old  house?  It's  got  a  white 
rosebush  by  the  door,  and  blue  ragged- 
sailors  in  the  yard  and  the  pile  of  bricks 
beyond  was  once  a  smoke  house.  She 
had  all  her  hams  and  bacon  stole  one 
year  to  make  things  easier  for  her. 
Well,  her  oldest  boy  was  the  most  re- 
markable young  one  that  Dole  ever 
see.  Joshua  his  name  was,  after  his 
father,  but  that's  all  the  likeness  there 
was  between  the  two  of  them.  That 
boy  was  jist  grit  and  goodness  clean 
through!  And  the  way  he  helped  his 
mother!  There  wasn't  a  foot  of  that 
old  place  they  didn't  work  and  prices 
were  good  then  and  in  about  six  years 
Sal  got  the  mortgage  paid.  She  gave 
a  dollar  to  the  plate  in  church  the  next 
Sunday.  Some  held  'twas  done  to 
show  off,  but  Sal  wasn't  that  stripe  of 
woman.  'Twas  a  thankofFering,  that's 
what  it  was. 

"Well,  next  year  Sal  built  a  barn,  and 
the  year  after  the  new  house  was  begun. 
The  house  went  on  slowly,  for  Sal 
wanted  to  pay  as  she  went  along. 
Well,  at  last  the  house  was  built  and 
painted  real  tasty,  and  one  day  1  was 
over  there  to  visit  a  spell  and  Sal  says, 
'Joshua  has  gone  to  pay  the  painter 
for  the  house  painting,'  she  says;  'it's 
a  sort  of  celebration  for  us  and  we're 
having  ducks  for  supper.  I  nope  you'll 
stay  and  help  us  celebrate.'  Then  she 
went  on  to  say  how  good  Joshua  had 
been,  which  she  didn't  need  to  tell  me, 
for  all  Dole  knowed  he  was  perfect  if 
ever  there  was  a  perfect  son.  So  jest 
after  the  lamps  was  lighted,  in  come 
Joshua.  He  was  tall  and  slim;  he 
favoured     Sal    in    his    looks;    he    had 


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worked  so  hard  ever  since  he  was  little 
that  his  hands  had  a  turrible  knotty 
took  like  an  old  man's,  and  he  had  a  sort 
of  responsible  expression  to  his  face. 
Well,  we  was  all  setting  at  supper  and 
Joshua  had  cut  up  the  ducks  and  we 
was  all  helped  and  Sal  says,  'Now 
make  your  supper  all  of  ye.  We've 
had  a  hard  row  to  hoe,  Joshua  and  me, 
but  we've  kep'  it  clear  o'  weeds  and  I 
guess  we're  goin'  to  have  a  harvest 
o'peace  and  quiet  after  the  grubbin.' 
Joshua  looked  up  at  his  mother  and  1 
never  seen  two  people  more  happy  to 
look  at.  Sal  was  real  talkative  that 
night  and  she  says: 

'Well,  Temperance,  I'm  right  glad 
you're  here  to-nighL  Fm  perfectly  con- 
tent this  night, ^  she  says.  The  words 
wasn't  out  of  her  mouth  till  I  saw 
Joshua  give  a  shiver — like  a  person 
with  a  chill  in  his  back. 

"  Have  you  got  a  chill,  Joshua  ?  " 
I  says,  and  he  laughed  quite  uncon- 
sarned,  and  he  says,  '  Yes,  I  seem  to 
have  the  shivers.' 

"  Four  days  after  that  Joshua  Winder 
lay  dead  in  the  new  house  .  .  .  My  ! 
I  mind  how  his  hands  looked  in  his 
coffin.  His  face  was  young,  but  his 
hands  looked  as  if  he'd  done  his  heft  o' 
work.  No,  never  say  you  are  perfectly 
content.      Its  turrible  dangerous." 

Sidney's  sensitive  heart  was  wrung 
by  the  homely  story. 

"  Oh,  Temperance,"  he  said,  "why 
did  you  tell  me  that  ?  "  She  looked  at 
him  as  a  surgeon  might  regard  one 
whom  his  healing  lancet  had  pained. 

"  Because,"  said  Temperance,  "be- 
cause it's  a  tempting  o'  Providence  to 
say  or  to  think  you  are  content.  I 
ain't  superstitious,  but  I'd  rather  hear 
the  bitterest  complainings  as  to  hear 
anyone  say  that." 

"And  yet,"  said  Sidney,  "  I  should 
think  the  Lord  would  be  pleased  to  see 
people  happy,  each  in  his  own  way." 

"  Well,"  said  Temperance,  modest- 
ly, "I  ain't  much  on  religion,  Mr. 
Martin.  I  can't  argue  and  praise 
and  testify  the  way  some  can,  but  my 
experience  has  been  that  when  folks 
begin  to  think  themselves  and  their 
lives  is  perfect    and   to    mix    up  earth 

with  heaven,  and  forget  which  one 
they're  livin'  in,  they're  apt  to  be 
brought  up  sudden.  It  seems  to  me 
heaven's  a  good  deal  like  a  bit  o'  sugar 
held  in  front  of  a  tired  horse  to  make 
him  pull.  I  guess  there's  a  good  many 
of  us  would  lie  down  in  the  harness  if 
it  wasn't  for  that  same  bit  of  sugar  ; 
we  may  look  past  the  sugar  for  a  while, 
but  when  we  get  to  a  bit  of  stiff  clay 
or  run  up  against  a  rock  we're  mighty 
glad  to  have  the  sugar  in  front  o'  us 
again  ;  but  sakes  !  you  ain't  made  no 
breakfest,  and  there's  the  girls  !  You'll 
breakfast  with — her — after  all." 

Temperance  gave  him  an  arch  took 
and  departed,  and  Mabella  had  hardly 
crossed  the  threshold  before  the  sym- 
pathetic Miss  Tribbey  called  her;  when 
she  arrived  in  the  back  kitchen  Tem- 
perence  took  her  by  the  shoulders  and 
whispered  energetically  in  her  ear  : 

"Sakes,  M'bella  I  Don't  go  where 
you  ain't  wanted." 

.Mabella's  eyes  lighted  with  sym- 

"  You  don't  say  \  "  she  said. 

Temperance  nodded  like  a  man- 

"It  must  he  catching!"  said  Mabella. 
"  It  was  Nathan  brought  the  infection 
to  the  house. " 

"  Go  'long  with  you,"  said  Temper- 
ance, and  with  a  very  considerate 
clatter  of  dishes  she  made  her  intend- 
ed entry  audible  to  the  two  people  in 
the  kitchen. 

Mabella  looked  at  Vashti  eagerly — 
sympathetically,  but  the  calm,  beauti- 
ful  face  of  her  cousin  was  as  a  sealed 

"Whatever  was  that  noise  in  the 
night.  Temperance  ?  "  asked  Vashti. 

"  Why,  I  don't  know,"  said  Tem- 
perance. "  I  was  sure  I  heard  a  noise, 
but  I  couldn't  see  anything  when  I  got 
up.  Did  you  hear  anything,  Mr.  Mar- 
tin ?  " 

"Not  I,"  said  Sidney,  "but  I  was 
so  busy  with  my  own  thoughts  that 
you  might  have  fired  a  cannon  at  my 
ear  and  I  would  not  have  heard  it." 
He  looked  at  Vashti ;  her  down-droop- 
ed eyes  were  fixed  upon  her  plate;  sud- 
denly he  exclaimed  : 


:y  Google 



"What  have  you  done  to  your  hand  P 
It's  buroed  !" 

"Yes,"  she  said  quietly,  "after  I 
blew  out  my  lamp  lastnig'ht  I  knocked 
the  chimaey  off.  I  caught  it  against 
my  side  with  the  back  of  my  hand, 
that  burned  it" 

"  My!"  said  Mabella.  "  I  would 
have  let  it  break." 

Vashti  smiled,  and  suddenly  raised 
her  eyes  to  Sidney. 

"  A  little  pain  is  good  for  me,  1 
think.  It  makes  one  know  things  are 

"But the  reality  is  sometimes  sweet- 
er than  the  dream,"  he  said,  ten- 

She  let  her  eyes  fall  in  maidenly 
manner.  It  was  as  if  she  had  spoken. 
This  woman's  most  ordinary  move- 
ments proclwmed  the  eloquence  of  ges- 

"You  must  have  been  up  early," 
said  Mabetia  to  Sidney. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  was  in  a  hurry 
to  leave  the  dream-world  for  the 

"  And  how  do  you  like  it?"  asked 
Mabella,  saucily. 

Vashti  spoke  at  the  moment,  some 
trivial  speech,  but  in  her  tone  there 
was  the  echo  of  might  and  right  It 
was  as  if  with  a  wave  of  her  hand  she 
brushed  aside  from  his  consideration 
everything,  every  person,  but  herself. 

They  rose  from  the  table  together. 

"Come  out,"  he  whispered;  she 
nodded,  and  soon  they  were  pacing 
together  in  the  morning  sunshine. 
Mabella  looked  after  them  ;  turning, 
she  saw  Temperance  wiping  her  eyes, 

"Whatisii?"  she  asked  with  con- 

"  Nothing,"  said  Temperance ; 
"nothing;  I'm  real  low  in  my  spirits 
this  morning,  though  why,  I'm  sure  I 
can't  say.  But  it's  fair  touching  to 
hear  him  !  There  he  was  this  morning 
talkin'  of  her  being  perfect,  and  sayin' 
he  was  perfectly  contented.  It's  a 
tempting  o'  Providence.  And,  Ma- 
bella, there's  Vashti — she — well,  1  may 
misjudge,"  concluded  Temperance 
lamely.  "  Sakes  !  look  at  them  chick- 
ings,"    with  which    Temperance  took 

herself  off  to  regulate  the  ways  and 
manners  of  her  poultry  yard.  Mabel- 
la deparled  to  do  her  work  light  heart- 
edly,  and  Vashti  out  in  the  morning 
sunshine  with  her  lover  was  weaving 
her  web  more  and  more  closely  about 

In  two  nights  more  Sidney  was 
leaving  Dole. 

It  was  the  night  of  the  prayer  meet- 

All  Dole  knew  of  his  engagement  to 
Vashti  Lansing ;  ail  knew  he  hoped  to 
be  the  successor  of  old  Mr.  Didymus. 
The  old  white-headed  man  had  spoken 
a  few  words  to  him  telling  him  how 
happy  he  was  to  think  of  his  place  be- 
ing so  filled.  He  spoke  of  it  calmly, 
but  Sidney's  lip  quivered  with  emotion. 
Mr.  Didymus  said,  "Wait  till  you're 
my  age  and  you  won't  think  it  sad  to 
talk  of  crossing  over.  Wife  and  I 
have  been  two  lonely  old  people  for 
long  now,  hearkening  for  the  Lord's 
voice  in  the  morning  and  in  the  even- 
ing, and  sometimes  inclined  to  say  : 
'  How  long,  oh.  Lord  !  How  long?  ' 
We  won't  be  long  separated.  When 
folks  live  as  long  together  as  we  have 
they  soon  follow  each  other.  That's 
another  of  God's  kindnesses." 

There  was  in  the  simple  old  man's 
speech  an  actual  faith  and  trust  which 
brought  his  belief  within  the  vivid  cir- 
cle of  reality. 

"  I  will  do  my  best,"  said  Sidney. 

"The  Lord  will  help  you,"  said  the 
old  man. 

The  prayer  meeting  was  animated 
by  thought  for  Sidney.  There  was 
something  in  the  idea  of  his  going 
forth  to  prepare  to  be  their  pastor  which 
caught  the  Dole  heart  and  stirred  its 
supine  imagination. 

When  old  Mr.  Didymus  prayed  for 
him,  that  he  might  be  kept,  and 
strengthened  and  guided,  it  was  with 
all  the  fervour  of  his  simple  piety. 
The  intensity  of  his  feeling  communi- 
cated itself  to  his  hearers.  Ameta 
were  breathed  deeply  and  solemnly 

Vashti  would  have  liked  Sidney  to 

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"1  caonot,"  he  said  simply  ;  nor 
was  his  silence  ill  thought  of.  He  was 
going  forth  ;  he  was  to  be  comforted  ; 
he  was  the  one  to  listen  to-night  whilst 
they  encouraged  him  and  pled  for  him, 
and  again,  in  the  name  of  the  Great 
Sacrifice,  offered  up  petitions  for  him. 
The  hour  had  come  for  the  closing  of 
the  meeting,  when  suddenly  Mary 
Shinar's  clear,  high  treble  uttered  the 
first  words  of  one  of  the  most  poign- 
antly sweet  hymns  ever  written. 

"  God  be  Tuilh  you  till  roe  mttt  again  — 
May  His  Undtr  care  tumnind you. 
And  His  loving  arm  upheldyou, 
God  be  vith  you  till  TPt  tneel  again." 

Every  voice  in  the  church  joined  in 
this  farewell,  and  then  the  benediction 
was  slowly  said — the  old  tender,  lov- 
ing, apostolic  benediction,  and  they  all 
streamed  forth  into  the  chill  purity  of 
the  autumn  night.  They  shook  hands 
with  him,  and  he  stood  among  them 
tall  and  slight  and  pale,  inexpressibly 
touched  by  their  kindliness,  unexpec- 
tedly thrilled  by  their  display  of  emo- 
tion. It  was  only  their  religion  which 
moved  these  people  to  demonstration. 

The  last  hand  clasp  was  given.  The 
lights  in  the  church  were  out,  and  the 
Lansing  party  took  its  way  home- 

Temperance's  face  and  Mabella's 
were  both  tear-stained.  Vashti's  pale 
beauty  shone  out  of  the  dusk  with 
lofty  quietude  in  every  line. 

Sidney  looking  at  her  felt  he  real- 
ized what  perfection  of  body  and  spirit 

A  new  moon  was  rising  in  the  clear 
pale  sky — the  wide  fields,  tufted  here 
and  there  with  dim  blossomed  wild  as- 
ters, lay  sweet  and  calm,  awaiting  the 
approach  of  night  as  a  cradled  child 
awaits  its  mother's  kiss.  Far  away 
the  twinkling  lights  of  solitary  farm- 
houses shone,  only  serving  to  empha- 
size the  sense  of  solitude,  here  and 
there  a  tree  made  a  blacker  shadow 
against  the  more  intangible  shades  of 
night.  There  was  no  sound  of  twilight 
birds  ;  no  murmur  of  insect  life. 

Sidney  was  passing  home  through  the 
heart  of  the  silence  after  a  farewell  visit 

to  Lanty  who  was  kept  at  home  nurs- 
ing a  sick  horse. 

It  was  the  night  before  Sidney's  de> 
parture  from  the  Lansing  house.  The 
summer  was  over  and  gone.  It  had 
heaped  the  granaries  of  his  heart  high 
with  the  golden  grain  of  happiness.  He 
walked  swiftly  on,  then  suddenly  con- 
scious that  he  was  walking  upon 
another  surface  than  the  grass,  he 
paused  and  looked  about  him.  Around 
him  was  the  tender  greenness  of  the 
newly  springing  grain — above  him  the 
hunters'  moon  curved' its  silver  cres- 
cent, very  young  yet  and  shapen  like 
a  hunterls  horn.  A  new  sweet  night 
was  enfolding  the  earth,  gathering  the 
cares  of  the  day  beneath  its  wings,  and 
bringing  with  it  as  deep  a  sense  of 
hopeful  peace  as  fell  upon  the  earth 
after  the  transcendent  glory  of  the  first 
day,  and  here  amid  these  sweet  familiar 
symbols  of  nature's  tireless  beginnings 
he  was  conscious  of  an  exalted  sense 

He  stood  silent,  gazing  out  into  the 
infinity  of  the  twilight. 

Afterwards  when  the  pastoral  man- 
tle did  fall  upon  his  shoulders  there 
was  a  solemn  laying  on  of  hands,  a 
solemn  reception  into  the  ranks  of 
those  who  fight  for  good  ;  but  the  real 
consecration  of  Sidney's  life  took  place 
in  that  lonely  silent  field,  where  the 
furrows  had  not  yet  merged  their  iden- 
tity one  with  the  other,  where  the  red 
clods  were  not  yet  hidden  by  the  blades. 
Out  of  the  twilight  a  mighty  finger 
touched  him,  and  ever  after  he  bore 
upon  his  forehead  almost  as  a  visible 
light  the  spiritual  illumination  which 
came  to  him  then.  It  was,  alas,  no 
self- comforting  recognition  of  a  person- 
al God.  It  was  only  the  sense  that  all 
was  in  accord  between  the  Purposer  and 
the  world  he  had  made  ;  but  this  was 
much  to  Sidney.  The  man-made  discord 
could  be  remedied,  even  as  the  harsh 
keysmaybeattuned.  Forever  after  this 
hour  he  would  give  himself  up  to  striv- 
ing to  bring  his  fellows  into  accord 
with  the  beautiful  world  about  them. 

Suddenly  he  felt  himself  alone.  A 
speck  in  the  vastness  of  the  night,  a 


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little  flame  flickering  unseen  ;  but  just 
as  a  sense  of  isolation  beg'an  to  fall 
upon  him  a  mellow  glow  gladdened 
his  eyes — the  light  from  the  open  door 
of  the  old  Lansing  house.  He  bent 
his  steps  toward  it  with  a  humble  feel- 
ing that  he  had  trodden  upon  holy 
gfround  ere  he  was  fitly  purified. 

In  after  days  when  many  perplexities 
pressed  upon  him,  he  often  withdrew 
in  spirit  to  this  twilight  scene.  Of  its 
grey  shades,  its  dim  distances,  its 
silence,  its  serenity,  its  ineffable  purity 
he  built  for  himself  a  sanctuary. 

Alas  1  In  that  sanctuary  the  God  was 
always  veiled. 

To  be  Continued. 


' '  Celte  ann^  un  a  choisi 
La  plus  teune  et  [a  plus  belle." 

SO  runs  the  song  composed  and  dedi- 
cated annually  to  the  poor  ironing 
girl  selected  to  be  "La  Reine  des 
Reines."  Mi-Car£me  (Mid-Lent)  is  the 
event  in  the  life  of  the  blanchisseuse 
(washerwoman)  never  to  be  forgotten. 
It  is  the  red-letter  day  of  the  year,  the 
May-day  of  Merrie  England,  and 
something  for  the  young  ironing  girls 
to  look  forward  to  in  the  long  winter 
evenings  while  standing  at  the  ironing 
table  mechanically  passing  their  hot 
irons  back  and  forth  over  the  daitity 
linen.  It  is  a  day  to  be  remembered 
when,  looking  back  in  after  years,  they 
tell  their  children  over  and  over  again 
the  story  of  their  reign  at  Mi-CarSme. 
To  trace  the  custom  is  exceedingly 
difficult,  for  the  washerwomen  have 
kept  a  holiday  at  Mid-Lent  for  many, 
many  years.  It  probably  sprung  up, 
however,  from  a  small  beginning,  and 
is  later  by  some  few  years  than  the 
Carnival  at  Mardi-Gras.  Evidently  it 
is  a  brief  respite  from  the  weariness 
produced  by  the  long  Lenten  period  of 
abstinence  and  fasting,  an  innate  de- 
sire for  fun,  life  and  pleasure. 

In  Paris  it  is  the  custom  to  name  a 
queen,  dress  her  up  in  grand  attire,  par- 
ade the  streets  and  wind  up  the  festivit- 
ies by  a  grand  ball  in  her  honour.  After 
the  Franco- Prussian  War  in  1870  the 
fite  was  for  a  time  suppressed,  but  the 
fondness  for  gaiety,  spontaneous  in  the 
French  people  and  never  really  put 
down,  burst  forth  anew,  and  the  Mi- 
Car£me  f€te  has  always  been  since  that 
time  a  brilliant  holiday  festival. 

It  was  in  '95  that  I  saw  theMi-Car^me 
and  pretty  Mite.  Marie  Louise  Grimme, 

a  poor  ironing  girl,  chosen  because  of 
her  extraordinary  beauty  to  be  "La 
Reine."  Such  a  dark,  dismal  morning 
as  it  was  that  year,  a  bleak  March 
morning,  which  I  recall  perfectly  be- 
cause I  felt  that  the  little  queen  must 
be  a  bit  sad  at  heart  as  she  sprang  out 
of  bed  and  looked  out  from  her  little 
attic  window  upon  the  cheerless  pros- 
pect. The  clouds  were  thick  and 
threatening,  and  the  wind  raw  and 
penetrating.  Whatever  may  have 
been  her  feelings  she  donned  her  hand- 
some white  satin  gown  with  Its  long 
court  train  of  yellow  brocade,  powder- 
ed her  wavy  golden  hair,  darkened  her 
delicately-arched  eyebrows  and  lashes 
until  her  blue  eyes  seemed  sufficiently 
large  and  brilliant,  received  her  maids 
of  honour,  bowed  her  stately  head  for 
her  crown,  which  looked  for  all  the 
world  like  the  real  thing,  seized  her 
sceptre,  the  emblem  of  her  reign  for 
twenty-four  hours,  ascended  her  gilded 
chariot  of  the  style  of  Louis  XV.  and 
drawn  by  eight  superb  white  horses 
goi^cus  in  gold-plated  harnesses,  and 
amid  the  blast  of  trumpets  drove  away 
to  salute  President  and  Mrs.  Faure  at 
the  Palais  Champs  Elysie.  From  the 
distinguished  and  popular  President 
the  merry  queen  received  a  beautiful 
bracelet,  the  right  to  rule  the  gay  city 
for  a  day  and  the  homage  due  her 
rank  ;  then,  smiling  and  bowing  her 
thanks,  she  joined  the  glistening  pro- 
cession headed  up  the  Grand  Boule- 
vards. The  sun  tried  to  smile  and 
show  his  good  nature,  and  as  the  char- 
iot of  the  queen  halted  for  a  few  mo- 
ments before  the  beautiful  Church  of 
the  Madeleine  he  burst  forth  and  shone 
upon  the  golden- haired,  stately  Mari&  I 




The  crowds  all  along  the  boulevards 
from  the  Madeleine,  with  its  massive 
Corinthian  columns,  to  the  Place  Bas* 
tille,  the  route  of  the  procession,  surg*' 
ed  back  and  forth,  pushing,  crowding 
and  jostling  each  other  good-naturedly, 
for  the  utmost  good  cheer  prevailed 
everywhere  and  there  was  not  a  sign 
of  ill-temper  all  day.  Vendors  of  con- 
fetti and  serpentines/  calling  out  their 
wares,  "  Qu'est-ce  qui  n'a  pas  ses  con- 
fetti?" or  "V'li  confetti  cinquante 
centimes  I'sac!"  were  heard  upon  all 
sides,  and  handful  alter  handful  of  the 
small,  circular  pieces  of  bright-colour- 
ed, sweet-scented  paper  was  hurled  at 
you  from  every  point,  blinding  you, 
choking  you,  stifling  you,  but  never 
disturbing  your  serenity  so  long  as  you 
had  a  handful  left  in  your  bag  to  throw 
back.  Good  humour  reigned,  and  the 
gay  Parisians,  phlegmatic  Germans, 
pondrous  Englishmen  and  breezy 
Americans  laughed,  joked  and  made 
merry  together,  giving  themselves  up 
to  the  boisterous  merriment  of  the  day, 
children  once  again. 

All  of  the  lavoirs  of  the  city  were 
represented  in  gorgeously-decorated 
cars,  the  occupants  in  equally  gor- 
geous attire,  and,  most  interesting  of 
all,  the  students  from  the  mysterious 
and  fascinating  Latin  Quarter  were  the 
feature  of  the  parade.  All  of  their  cars 
were  marvellously  original  and  clever 
in  their  conception,  and  they  were 
greeted  with  cheers  and  pelted  with 
flowers  all  along  the  route.  One  of 
the  cars,  more  daring  than  the  rest, 
was  called  "  Le  Gu^risseur  du  Roi," 
having  an  enormous  mortar  and  pestle 
in  front,  and  in  it  a  nurse  dangling  a 
tiny  baby  in  her  arms,  while  upon  a 
table  in  the  centre  of  the  car  was  a 
large  figure  being  dissA:ted  with 
ghoulish  glee  by  a  crowd  of  students, 
who  drew  from  the  abdominal  cavity 
handful  after  handful  of  confetti,  flow- 
ers, serpentines  and  bon-bons,  which 
they  threw  down  to  the  crowd  below. 
Another  unique  car  was  that  of  the 
law,  in  the  centre  of  which  was  an 
enormous  scale  balancing  a  pretty  girt 
upon  the  one  side  and  a  few  heavy  law 
book^  upon  the  other.     It  is  needless 

to  say  that  tn  this  case,  as  in  all  others, 
beauty  outweighed  everything  else. 
Then  came  the  academicians  in  vivid 
green  coats,  forty-one  in  all ;  at  least, 
the  tall,  bearded  fellow  who  marched  in 
the  rear  bore  that  number  upon  his 
casque.  On  his  back  was  a  quantity 
of  books,  whose  titles  were  an  index 
to  his  identity.  He  was  Monsieur 
Zola,  and  he  had  no  end  of  fun  driving 
off  his  fellow-members  who,  furious  at 
his  elevation  to  the  additional  chair, 
made  continued  attacks  upon  him  with 
their  large  quill  pens.  Flowers,  money, 
choice  fruit,  bon-bons  and  confetti  were 
showered  upon  the  passing  students, 
only  to  be  caught,  if  possible,  and 
thrown  back  to  be  caught  again  and 
treasured  as  a  souvenir  by  someone 
upon  the  crowded  pavement.  It  was 
very,  very  gay  and  a  novelty  to  one 
seeing  it  for  the  first  time. 

The  eventful  day  closed  with  mask- 
ed balls  at  the  Opera  House,  a  sump- 
tuous edifice  and  the  largest  theatre  in 
the  world,  and  at  the  Nouveau  Cirque 
and  Casino  de  Paris.  The  students 
had  charge  of  the  ball  at  the  Cirque, 
and  at  half-past  ten  the  grand  entree 
took  place,  followed  by  a  bright  farce, 
choosing  the  queen  of  the  fdte,  the 
ball  and  charming  battle  of  flowers. 
Great  bushel  baskets  full  of  violets, 
roses,  mignonette,  lilies  of  the  valley 
and  fragrant  narcissus  were  passed 
around,  and  a  battle  royal  waged  for 
over  an  hour  amid  peals  of  merry 
laughter,  lively  dance  music  and  happy 
good-fellowship.  Staid  English  ma- 
trons in  the  boxes,  attractive  American 
mammas  with  more  attractive  daugh- 
ters in  the  balcony  ;  chic,  brilliantly- 
dressed,  fashionable  Frenchwomen 
caught  and  threw  back  the  bunches  of 
flowers  to  the  students  and  their  best 
girls  upon  the  ballroom  floor  below. 
The  balls,  one  and  all,  were  striking  and 
most  extravagant,  but,  belonging  as 
they  do  to  the  class  of  peculiar  Paris- 
ian institutions,  they  are  always  pa- 
tronized by  the  many  strangers  who 
are  fortunate  enough  to  be  in  the  < 
bright  city  for  Mi-Car Sme. 

Jane  Marlm. 

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THE  rise  and  progress  of  Canadian 
dairying  is  one  of  the  most  im- 
portant factors  in  the  material  develop* 
ment  of  this  country.  Since  1864, 
when  the  first  co-operative  cheese  fac- 
tory was  started,  the  manufacturing'  of 
cheese  in  Canada  has  made  remark- 
able progress.  At  the  beginning,  it  is 
true,  progress  was  slow,  and  those  as- 
sociated in  promoting  and  developing 
the  industry  met  with  many  discour- 
agements in  their  endeavours  to  get  the 
people  interested,  and  to  establish  a 
market  for  the  product.  But  persever- 
ance, indomitable  energy,  and  implicit 
faith  in  its  possibilities  finally  tri- 
umphed, as  they  always  will  where 
conditions  are  at  all  favourable,  and 
to-day  we  have  in  the  Dominion  an  in- 
dustry which,  both  as  to  the  amount  of 
money  it  annually  brings  into  the  coun- 

try and  the  material  progress  resulting 
from  it,  is  second  to  none. 

We  have  already  stated  that  the  first 
co-operative  cheese  factory  was  started 
in  Canada  in  1864.  There  is  some 
little  difference  of  opinion  among  dairy- 
men as  to  the  locality  where  the  first 
factory  was  operated.  More  than  one 
district  in  Ontario  has  endeavoured  to 
claim  credit  for  its  inception.  Every- 
thing considered,  however,  the  burden 
of  proof  decidedly  favours  Oxford 
County  as  being  the  birthplace  of  co- 
operative dairying  in  Canada,  and 
Harvey  Farrington,  a  cheese  manufac- 
turer of  Herkimer  County,  New  York 
State,  who  moved  to  Canada  in 
1S63,  as  being  entitled  to  the  credit  of 
having  in  1864  operated  the  first  Cana- 


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dian  cheese  factory.  A  rival  claim 
comes  from  the  County  of  Leeds  that 
Mr.  W.  P.  Strong,  of  Brockville,  is 
the  individual  who  should  be  thus  hon- 
oured, the  contention  being  that  he 
operated  a  cheese  factory  in  Eastern 
Ontario  as  early,  if  not  earlier,  than 
Mr.  Farrington  did  in  Western  On- 
tario. Though  Mr.  Strong  was  a  pio- 
neer in  the  movement,  and  rendered 
very  valuable  services  in  the  earliest 
days,  the  facts 


that  hi 

tied  to  any 
credit  as  being 
the  first  to  in- 
troduce the  sys- 
tem. It  is  true, 
however,  that 
within  a  year  or 
two  of  the  start- 
ing of  the  busi- 
ness in  Western 
Ontario,  the  late 
Hon.  Senator 
Reed,  of  Belle- 
ville, having  in- 
vestigated the 
working  of  the 
CO-  operative 
cheese  factory 
which  had  then 
been  in  oper- 
ation in  New 
York  State  for 
several  years, 
was  instrumen- 
tal in  starting  a 
cheese  factory 
near  Belleville, 
which  section 
has  since  de- 
veloped   into 

one  of  our  leading'  dairy  districts.  The 
credit  of  having  taken  the  initiative  in 
this  matter  is  no  small  honour,  and  it 
is  little  wonder  so  many  districts  are 
laying  claim  thereto. 

Statistics  are  usually  dry  and  uninter- 
esting, but  in  noting  the  progress  of  an 
industry  of  this  character  they  speak 
more  loudly  than  anything  else.     The 

census  of  1871,  taken  just  seven  years 
after  the  first  factory  was  started, 
showed  that  there  were  353  cheese  fac- 
tories in  the  Dominion.  The  census 
of  1881  gave  709  cheese  factories,  that 
of  i8gi  1,565  factories,  and  the  returns 
for  1897-98  compiled  by  Mr.  George 
Johnsson,  Dominion  Statistician,  show 
that  there  are  2,759  factories,  including 
203  making  both  butter  and  cheese. 
In  1871  the  average  output  of  each 
factorywas  val- 
ued at  $4,570, 
in   1891  at  $6,- 


.  .$    918,000 
. ,   2,164,995 

. .   3,500,000 

United  Slates.  Canaiia. 

1870.  . . .  57,296.327  lbs.  5,827,782  lbs. 

1880. .. .127,553,907  '•  40,368,678    ■• 

iSgo-.-  95.376,053  •'  94,260.187    ■' 

...  60,448,421   ■■  146,004,650    " 

The  dis 

1897-98  at  S5,- 
570,  or  $680 
less  than  in 
1S91,  but  $1,- 
000  more  than 
in  1871,  giving 
an  output  for 
1897  of  about 
compared  with 
$9,780,000  in 
1891,  $5,460,- 
000  in  1881, 
and  $1,602,000 
in  187 1.  We 
find,  however, 
from  the  last 
report  of  the 
of  Agriculture 
and  Dairying 
that  forthe  year 
ending  Decem- 
ber 31st,  1897, 
Great  Britain 
imported  from 
Canada  cheese 
to  the  value  of 
these  estimates  is 


probably  due  to  the  fact  that  the  for- 
mer one  is  based  upon  returns  up  to 
June  30th,  1898.  The  estimated  value 
of  the  cheese  exported  for  the  year  end- 
ing December  31st,  1898,  Is  $17,572,- 
763.  But  as  this  includes  a  part  of  the 
make  of  1897,  which  was  held  over  and 
which  was  very  large,  it  is  somewhat 
higher  than  the  total  value  of  the  cheese 
made  last  year. 




Digitized  byGoOgIC 




Though  the  co-operative  creamery 
did  not  appear  on  the  scene  till  ten  or 
twelve  years  after  the  cheese  factory, 
satisfactory  progress  has  also  been 
made  in  this  important  branch  of  dairy- 
ing. To-day  Canadian  creamery  but- 
ter, in  so  far  as  its  quality  is  concerned, 
stands  on  about  the  same  fooling  as 
cheese  in  the  British  markets,  and  the 
outlook  for  the  extension  of  this  branch 
of  Canadian  trade  is  of  the  most  hope- 
ful character.  In  1871  the  Dominion 
had  no  co-operative  creameries  for  the 
manufacture  of  butter,  it  was  all  home 

value  for  that  year  $918, oof).     At  the 

the  year  ending  Junt 
be  over  $3,000,000 
include  the  butter  m 

of  the  output  for 
30th,  i8g8,  would 
which  does  not 
ide  in  the  winter 
referring  to  the 
Agricultural  and  Dairy  Commissioners' 
report,  we  find  that  our  exports  of 
butter  to  Great  Britain  during  1897 
were  valued  at  $2,164,995.  From  May 
ist,  1S98,  to  the  present  Canada  has 
increased  her  exports  of  butter  by  over 
100,000  packages,  which  would  mean 
an  increase  in  value  of  fully  $1 ,000.000 
and  would  make  the  total  value  of  the 

made.  In  1881  there  were  46  cream- 
eries, all  but  one  being  in  Ontario  and 
Quebec,  In  1891  this  number  had  in- 
creased to  170,  and,  according  to  the 
latest  returns,  the  number  in  operation 
during  the  past  season  was  559.  In 
addition  to  this,  there  were  in  opera- 
tion during  189H,  203  factories  making 
butter  during  the  winter  and  cheese 
during  the  summer,  which,  if  classed 
with  the  others,  make  a  total  of  762 
co-operative  creameries.  In  1891  the 
output  per  creamery  was  valued  at 
$5,400,  which  would   make  the  total 

exports  for  the  year  just  closed  consid- 
erably over  $3,000,000. 

It  will  be  interesting  just  here  to  no- 
tice briefly  the  progress  of  the  in- 
dustry in  the  various  provinces  of  the 
Dominion.  For  a  number  of  years 
cheese-making  on  the  co-operative  plan 
was  confined  mainly  to  Ontario.  There 
are,  however,  buildings  yet  standing 
in  Nova  Scotia  which  were  erected  for 
cheese-making  purposes  in  the  early 
seventies.     These  evidently  were  not 





manag'ed  in  the  best  possible  way,  as 
they  were  abandoned  after  being-  in 
operation  for  a  year  or  two.  After  the 
business  was  well  established  in  On- 
tario, and  it  had  been  proven  to  be  a 
profitable  business  tor  the  farmer,  co- 
operative cheese  factories  were  started 
in  Quebec.  These  at  first  were  con- 
fined to  the  Eastern  Townships,  but 
have  since  spread  over  a  large  portion 
of  the  French-speaking  districts. 
There  is  no  part  of  the  Dominion  mak- 
ing; more  rapid  progress  in  regard  to 
the  quality  of  its   cheese  than  Quebec, 

where  an  elaborate  » 
tion  on  the  syndicate  plai 


I  of  instruc- 
i  carried  on. 


made  greater  pro- 
gress in  Quebec 
in  its  early  stages 
than  it  did  in  On- 
tario, where  for 
a  time  it  had  a 
hard  struggle  to 
successfully  com- 
pete with  the 
cheese  factory. 
Ot  late  years, 
however,  the  riv- 
alry between  the 
two  to  secure  the 
farmer's  patron- 
age has  almost 
died  out,  and  the 

and  the  creamery 

arebeingbrought  " 

into  closer    rela- 
tions with  each  ether  chiefly  through 
the  advent  of  the  winter  dairying  move- 
ment, when  many  of  the  former  began 
to  make  butter  as  well  as  cheese. 

Outside  of  Ontario  and  Quebec 
dairying  was  of  very  little  importance 
in  the  other  provinces  of  the  Domin- 
ion till  1891,  when  the  Dominion 
Dairying  Service  was  inaugurated  by 
the  Dominion  Government,  under  the 
direction  of  Professor  J.  W.  Robert- 
son. Since  that  time  great  progress 
has  been  made  in  almost  every  pro- 
vince. The  number  of  cheese  factor- 
ies and  creameries  in  the  various  pro- 
vinces since  1891  has  increased  in  Nova 

Scotia  from  16  to  23,  in  Prince  Edward 
Island  from  4  to  35,  in  New  Brunswick 
from  10  to  28,  in  Quebec  from  728  to 
1,785,  in  Ontario  from  938  to  1,317, 
in  Manitoba  from  31  to  66,  in  the 
North-West  Territories  from  7  to  32, 
and  in  British  Columbia  from   i   to  5. 

A  comparison  of  the  progress  of 
dairying,  and  more  particularly  cheese- 
making  in  Canada  and  the  United 
States,  may  prove  both  interesting  and 
profitable  just  here.  There  is  nothing 
that   the  Canadian  dairyman    is  more 


proud  of  than  that  the  "Yankee"  has 
been  forced  to  take  a  back  seat  in  so 
far  as  making  good  cheese  is  concern- 
ed. Canadian  cheese  has  almost  re- 
placedtheAmerican  article  inthe  British 
markets,  and  there  is  no  longer  much 
fear  of  effective  competition  from  that 
quarter.  It  was  not  always  so.  Be- 
fore 1870  Canadian  cheese  was  not 
known  in  England,  and  those  who  first 
endeavoured  to  open  up  a  market  there, 
prominent  among  whom  may  be  men- 
tioned the  names  of  the  Hon.  Adam 
Brown,  of  Hamilton,  the  late  E.  Cass- 
well,  of  Ingersoll,  and  the  Hon,  Thom- 
as  Baltantyne,  of  Stratford,   had  very 

Digitized  by  Google 


great  difficulty  in  persuading'  the  Eng- 
lish dealers  to  sell  Canadian  cheese 
even  on  commission,  so  much  were 
they  prejudiced  in  favour  of  American 
cheese,  believing:  that  no  good  thing 
could  come  out  of  such  a  "cold, 
snowy  region  "  as  Canada.  But  per- 
sistence and  the  good  quality  of  the 
goods  to  back  it  up,  prevailed,  and  no 
food  product  of  Canada  is  better 
known  in  Great  Britain  at  the  present 
time  than  cheese.  A  few  figures  will 
show  how  the  Canadian  export  trade 
has  grown,  while  that  of  the  United 
States  has  declined.  In  1870  the  Un- 
ited States  sent  to  Great  Britain  57,- 
296,327  pounds  while  Canada  sent  only 
5.827,782  pounds,  in  [880  the  United 
States    sent    127,553,907    pounds  and 

Canada  40,368,- 
678  pounds,  in 
i8go  the  United 
States  sent  95,- 
376,053  and  Ca- 
nada sent  94,- 
260,187  pounds, 
and  in  1895  the 
United  States 
42ipounds, while 
Canadasent  146,- 
004,650  pounds, 
or  more  than 
double  the  quan- 
tity. If  an  exact 
comparison  for 
1898  could  be 
made,  we  are  cer- 
tain that  Cana- 
^-  da's   exports 

would  be  fully 
3^  times  greater  th:in  those  from 
the  United  States.  The  exports  of 
creamery  butter  for  1898  will  also  be 
found  to  be  much  greater  from  Canada 
than  from  the  United  States. 

One  important  feature  in  the  devel- 
opment of  the  dairy  industry  in  the  two 
countries  is  the  superiority  of  the  laws 
enacted  in  Canada  for  the  protection 
of  the  dairyman  over  those  in  existence 
in  the  United  States.  This,  perhaps, 
more  than  anything  else  has  been  the 
chief  cause  of  the  supremacy  of  the 
one  and  the  displacement  of  the  other 
in  the  markets  of  Great  Britain.  Just 
when  the  export  cheese  trade  of  the 
United  Stales  was  beginning  to  assum 



the       making     ot 

s"  or  partly 

skims"  began  to 

be      practised 

largely  in  the 

Kaste'rn     Sta- 

les,   while    in 

the       west 

"bogus"     or 


cheese    be- 

came    the 

product    of 

a  great  many 

These     "spu- 

N,   ..SI, 

rious"     goods 

,  Google 


were  sent  to  Great  Britain,  and  in 
many  cases  sold  as  full  cream  cheese, 
with  the  result  that  the  United  Stales 
to-day,  instead  of  occupying  a  first 
place,  occupies  a  second  or  third-rate 
place  in  the  export  cheese  trade.  Cana- 
dian dairymen,  on  theother  hand,  though 
copying-  the  United  States  system  in  the 
beginning,  were  sufficiently  careful  of 
their  future  reputation  as  to  copy  only 
that  part  of  it  that  was  helpful  and  todis- 
card  everything  of  an  unsavoury  or  dis- 
hone<;t  nature.  As  the  industry  progres- 
sed, stringent  lawswereenacted  through 
the  efforts  of  organized  dairying  to  pre- 
vent the  making  of  skim-milk  cheese  in 
the  factories,  or  spurious  dairy  goods 
of  any  kind,  in 
the  Dominion 
of  Canada.  So 
effective  have 
these  laws 

been  in  pro- 
moting honest 
and  ^upright 
dealing  that  it 
is  our  proud 
boast  that  not 
one  pound  of 
or  of  "filled" 
cheese  is'man- 
ufactured  or 
sold  in  Canada 
to-day.       This 

is     no     small  ^^_^,,  ,,„  ,„. 

honour    for    a 

.  The  Prop 

young  and 
growing  coun- 
try to  have  in  connection  with  one 
of  its  important  branches  of  trade. 
In  fact,  and  we  say  it  advisedly,  the 
manufacturers  of  other  lines  of  Ca- 
nadian goods,  and  especially  of  food 
products,  owe  a  debt  of  gratitude  to 
the  dairymen  of  this  country  for  the  re- 
putation for  honest  and  upright  deal- 
ing which  they  have  established  in 
Great  Britain.  This  reputation  has 
served  to  make  it  easier  for  other 
kinds  of  products  to  find  a  market 
in  Great  Britain,  as  the  consumer 
there  knowing  that  Canadians  are 
honest  in  one  line  will  be  honest  in 
others  also. 

The  value  of  an  industry  to  a  coun- 
try is  not  measured  alone  by  the 
amount  of  wealth  it  brings  in  annually. 
It  is  customary  to  measure  the  value 
of  a  manufacturing  establishment  to  a 
town  or  city  by  the  number  of  people 
it  gives  employment  to.  Let  us  meas- 
ure the  value  of  the  dairy  industry  by 
this  scale.  There  are  estimated  to  be 
3,^00  skilled  cheese  and  butter  makers 
in  the  Dominion.  To  this  must  be 
added  the  6,000  persons  who  work  in 
the  factories  as  assistants,  making  a 
total  of  9,300  persons  who  devote  their 
whole  time  during  the  season  to  cheese 

and  butter  making.  Then  we  have 
about  18,000  people,  such  as  secre- 
taries of  factories,  milk-haulers,  etc., 
who  devote  a  portion  of  their  time  to 
the  work.  Coupled  with  these  are  the 
patrons  or  farmers  who  supply  the  milk, 
who  would  number  at  least  150,000 
people,  making  a  grand  total  of  over 
1 77,000  of  our  citizenswho  are  directly 
benefited  by  the  dairy  industry  of  Ca- 

Though  cheese-making    was  started 
independently    of  Government    assist- 

:y  Google 



.    MVACINTHE,    Qr 

ance  in  anyway,  yet  from  the  time  its 
importance  to  the  country  began  to  be 
recognized,  the  industry  has  never  beer 
left  entirely  to  look  after  itself.  For  a 
number  of  years  dairying  has  been 
fostered  by  the  Dominion  Government 
and  by  the  local  governments  in  the 
various  provinces,  and  politicians,  to 
be  popular  in  the  country  at  large,  are 
always  ready  to  do  something  for  the 
dairy  industry.  In  fact,  some  dairymen 
go  so  far  as  to  say  that  it  would  be  a 
good  thing  for  the  business  if  our  leg- 
islators would  leave  it  alone  for  a 
while.  However  this  may  be,  dairy- 
ing is  never  at  a  loss  in  both  Houses 
of  Parliament  for  someone  to  cham- 
pion its  interests.  The  Dominion 
Government,  through  its  agriculture 
and  dairying  branch,  though  its  work  is 

to  a  large  extent  education- 
al,  gives  special  attention 
to  the  market  side  of  the  in- 
dustry, and  by  the  employ- 
ment of  dairy  experts  to 
give  instruction  in  the  fac- 
tories, has  done  and  is  do- 
ing much  to  spread  the  gos- 
pel of  good  dairying  in  the 
outlying  provinces  of  the 
Dominion.  With  one  or 
two  exceptions  the  various 
local  governments  are  do- 
ing effective  work  for  the 
industry  in  the  provinces. 
Their  work  is  altogether  of 
an  educational  character 
and  is  directed  mainly  to- 
wards improving  and  main- 
taining the  quality  of  the  product.  This 
is  accomplished  by  means  ot  dairy 
schools,  grants  to  dairy  associations, 
and  the  distribution  of  dairy  literature. 
There  are  six  dairy  schools  in  the  Dom- 
inion, three  of  which  are  in  Ontario, 
one  in  Quebec,  one  in  new  Brunswick, 
and  one  in  Manitoba. 

In  addition  to  the  work  carried  on 
by  the  various  governments,  valuable 
assistance  is  rendered  the  industry  by 
a  number  of  dairy  associations,  some 
of  which  receive  liberal  aid  from  the 
local  governments.  Every  province  in 
the  Dominion  now  has  an  organization 
of  this  kind,  which,  with  few  excep- 
tions, devotes  its  energies  exclusively 
to  dairy  matters.  Ontario  has  two 
strong  associations,  one  in  Eastern 
Ontario  and  one  in  Western  Ontario, 

:y  Google 


which  receive 
l^rge  grants 
each  yeartrom 
the  provincial 
government  to 
carry  on  the 
work  they  are 
doing.  Two 
were  formed 
in  1877  by  a 
division  of  the 
old  Canadian 
which  was  or- 
ffatiized  in 
867.    just 

three       years 
after  the  first  cheese  factory  was  start- 
ed,     A  third  organization,  the  Ontario 
Creameries    Association,    which     was 
formed   to   promote  butter-making  on 
the    co-operative    plan,     existed  from 
1885  to    1897,    when    it   amalgamated 
with  the  original  eastern   and  western 
associations,  forming  the  two  new  or- 
ganizations now     in    operation.     The 
history  of  the  first  organization    with 
that  of  the  associations  which   spring 
from  it,  had  we  the  space  to  devote  to 
it,  would  be  almost  identical   with  the 
progress  which   the  dairy  industry  has 
made  since 
its      incep- 
tion.     The 
first  associ- 
ation    and 
those  which 




from  which 
has      been 

of  cheese  and  butter. 

The  work  of  the  dairy  associations, 
with  the  exception  of  those  in  Ontario 
and  Quebec,  is  confined  to  annual  con- 
ventions and  meetings,  where  practical 
jii  the  various  branches  of 
,re  delivered  by  competent 
d  afterwards  published  for 
I  among  the  members.  In 
these  gatherings  the  asso- 
Ontario  and  Quebec  carry 
on  a  most  important  work  by  employ- 
ing practical  men  to  instruct  the  mak- 
ers in  the  cheese  factories  and  cream- 

add  re 


ing  the  fin- 
est   quality 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 


are  dispos- 
ed of  will  be 
to  the  unin- 
itiated. In 
Quebec and 
in  the  pro- 
V  i  n  c  e  s 
where    the 


eries.  About  twelve  instructors  are 
employed  annually  in  Ontario  for  this 
work,  while  in  Quebec,  where  the  syn- 
dicate system  of  instruction  is  so  large- 
ly developed,  upwards  of  forty  instruc- 
tors are  annually  employed  in  visiting' 
the  various  factories  in  that  province. 
It  will  thus  be  seen  that  if  the  various 
forces.  Government  and  otherwise,  en- 
gaged in  promoting;  dairying,  do  their 
duty,  there  should  be  no  fear  of  the 
quality  of  our  dairy  products  deterior- 
ating or  of  the  industry  itself  not 
maintaining  the  important  place  it  now 
occupies  in  the  material  development 
of  this  our  fair  Dominion. 

A  glance  at  the  methods  by  which  the 
products  of  our  cheese  factories    and 

what  em- 
b  ry  o  n  ic 
stage  the 
factory  men 
dispose  of 
their  products  every  month  or  two 
weeks,  as  the  case  may  be,  direct  to  the 
exporter  or  shipper  through  correspon- 
dence or  to  his  representative  who  visits 
the  factory.  InOntario,  however,  where 
there  is  more  competition  in  buying, 
the  business  is  carried  on  in  a  different 
way.  A  number  of  dairy  boards  of 
trade  (upwards  of  20  in  all)  have  been 
established  at  central  towns  and  cities 
to  which  the  factories  send  represen- 
tatives. These  representatives  or  sales- 
men meet  the  buyers,  who  are  also  mem- 
bers of  the  board,  once  a  week  or  once 
a  fortnight,  according  to  arrangement, 
at  the  local  markets.  Here  the  offer- 
ings of  the  factories  in  the  locality  are 
boarded  and  sold  by  what  is  known  as 
the  "  call  system."  The  buyers  make 
their  best  bids  for  each  lot  as  offered, 
which  the  salesman  can  accept  or  re- 
ject as  he  sees 
fit.     It  may  be 

men  engaged 
in  other  com- 
mercial enter- 
prises to  know 
that  all  the 
business  of 
these  boards  is 
t  r  ansae  ted 
without       the 



book.  Very  often  thousands  of  dol- 
lars' worth  of  cheese  is  sold  for  future 
delivery  without  any  record  whatever 
of  the  transaction  other  than  a  verbal 
agreement  between  the  buyer  and  sel- 
ter,  and  to  the  credit  of  those  who 
make  such  a  bargain,  very  few  of  them 
are  broken.  Honesty  is  there  for  a  pre- 
vaihng  principle  in  all  our  dairy  meth- 
ods and  is  responsible  for  a  large  share 
of  the  prestige  which  the  industry  has 
attained  at  home  and  abroad. 

In  closing  we  would  like  to  impress 
upon  every  one  interested  in  Canadian 
dairying  that  its  essential  feature  and 
active  principle  is  co-operation.  The 
farmer,  who  supplies  the  milk,  the 
maker  who  makes  it  into  cheese  and 
butter  and  the  manufacturer  or  com- 
pany which  owns  the  building  or 
plant,  are  parts  of  a  gigantic  co-oper- 
ative fabric  upon  which  the  very  ex- 
istence of  the  industry  depends.  Any 
element  that  would  tend  to  break  that 
fabric  would  deprive  the  industry  of  its 

life  itself  The  farmer,  when  he  takes 
his  milk  to  the  factory,  is  dependent 
upon  the  maker  for  the  quality  of  the 
product  that  is  to  be  made  from  it,  and 
the  maker  in  turn  is  dependent  upon 
the  farmer  to  supply  him  with  a  quality 
of  raw  product  from  which  to  make  a 
good  article  that  will  meet  the  wishes 
of  the  British  consumer.  Whenever 
one  of  these  factors  fails  in  performing 
his  part  in  the  co-operation  the  other 
two  must  suffer  and  the  industry  as 
well.  Because  of  this  co-operative  char- 
acter the  help  of  the  Governments, 
the  dairy  tissociations  and  the  dairy  in- 
structors is  more  necessary  to  the  suc- 
cess of  the  industry  as  a  whole  than  it 
would  be  to  an  industry  where  the  co- 
operative element  does  not  exist.  No 
one,  however,  will  begrudge  the  dairy 
industry  the  assistance  it  receives  from 
the  public  chest.  Every  dollar  it  re- 
ceives is  returned  a  thousand-fold  in 
the$20,ooo,ooowhichitannually  brings 
into  the  country  and  in  the  prosperity 
co-operative  dairyingbrings  to  the  com- 
munity where  it  is  carried  on  under  the 
most  approved  methods. 


:y  Google 



invested  by  Louis  Frechette  with 
his  title  of  "  pathfinder  of  a  new  land 
of  song,"  physician,  professor  of  medi- 
cal jurisprudence,  and  ardent  sports- 
man, though  an  Irishman  by  birth  and 
descent,  has  undoubtedly  absorbed  the 
great  spirit  of  the  country  of  his  adop- 
tion, and  given  it  forth  to  the  world 
clothed  in  truest  poetry — that  which 
brings  a  tear  to  the  eye  of  the  exile 
and  a  sympathetic  throb  from  the  heart 
of  the  lover  of  rural  Canada  and  its 
picturesque  inhabitants.  Dr.  Drum- 
mond  was  born  at  Currawn  House, 
Co.  Leitrim,  and  enjoyed  an  ideal  boy- 
hood, shooting  and  fishing  with  his 
father,  an  officer  in  the  Royal  Irish 
Constabulary.  He  developed  at  an 
early  age  the  remarkable  love  of  out- 
door sport  and  Nature  which  speaks  in 
his  "  Memories." 

"  O   Spirit    of    the   Mountain  !    Ihal    speaks 

lo  us  lo-niKht. 
Return   again  and   brii));  us  new  Urcams  of 

past  delig'hl  ; 
And  while  our  hoarl-throbs  llng:er,  and  lillour 

We'll  worship   lhe<?  anions'  *''e    hills   where 
Hows  the  Saiiil  MauriL-e." 

The  characteristics  and  folk-lore  of 
the  habitants  6rst  attracted  Dr.  Drum- 
mond's  attention  at  fifteen  years  of  age, 
when  passing  a  summer  at  the  Bord-a- 
Ploutfe,  which  he  has  since  immortaliz- 
ed, and  where  "No  more  de  voyageurs 
is  sing  tak  dey  was  sing  alway." 
From  that  time  their  sturdy  manliness, 
broken  English  and  originality  have 
strongly  influenced  the  recorder  ot 
their  quaintness,  and  every  brief  respite 
from  professional  duty  is  spent  among 
ihem  "  mid  the  grand  old  Lauren- 
tides,"  under  the  spell  of  "  the  breath- 
ing of  the  woodland,  the  throb  of 
Nature's  heart." 

It  is  good  lo  know  that  these  "  sub- 
jects of  the  pen  "  appreciate  their  por- 
trayal ;  and  the  mental  vision,  conjured 
by  description,  of  old  Phil-o-rum 
Juneau,  ancient  guide  and  coureur-de- 
bois,  unswathing  in  his  cabin  among 
the  pines  his  treasured  "edition  de 
luxe  "  and  proudly  pointing  to  the  writ- 
ing on  the  fly-leaf,  strikes  a  deep  chord 
in  our  hearts,  and  insensibly  adds 
another  link  to  our  lengthening  chain 
of  patriotism.  For  years  Dr.  Drum- 
mond    6shed,     hunted,     listened     and 

:y  Google 


but  the  gratitude 
oada.  preserving  as 
tenderest,  truest, 
and  most  charac-  : 
teristic  of  the  old 
life  which  time 
and  modern  in- 
novations will 
sweep  away.  As 
the  Midland  Re- 
view, of  Louisville, 


thought  among  these  people,  oc- 
casionally writing  verses  for  his 
own  amusement  and  that  of  his 
friends.  Some  of  these  were 
given  away,  some  appeared  in 
newspapers,  and  many  were  lost ; 
but  eventually  a  number  were 
gathered  together  by  Mrs.  Drum- 
mond,  and  they  formed  the  neu- 
cleus  of  the  "  Habitant." 

This  book  has  received  recog- 
nition from  the  English  and 
French  press  of  the  old  lands,  as 
well  as  the  new,  and  has  not  only 
brought  its  author  undying  fame, 

3f  the  people  of  Ca-      genius  outside  the  . 

i  it  does,  all  that  is      gratifying  ;  in  Decei 



not     too 

much  to  say  that 
Dr.  Drummond 
has  written  him- 
self immortally 
into    "  Le    Vieux 



truth,  sincerity, 
simplicity  and 
idealization  no 
such  poem  as  this 
has  ever  been  written  i 
The  appreciation  of  1 


n  America."  of  Hawthornden. 

>r.  Drummond's  to-day,  to  use  his 
ling,  of  course,"  and  Crockett. 
He,  like  Barrie,  worships  at  the 
shrine  of  "  My  Lady  Nicotine,"  is 
a  great  pedestrian,  avoids  golf, 
fearing  its  fatal  fascination,  and 
is  a  famous  disciple  of  "  Izaak 
Walton,"  spending  happy  hours  '■ 
with  rod  and  gun  "where  is  heard 
the  wizard  loon's  wild  cry." 

Dr.  Drummond's  mode  of  work 
is  erratic,  writingat  odd  moments, 
sometimes  not  for  months,  then 
finishing  one  poem  during  the 
quiet  hours  of  a  single  even- 
ing.    To    listen  as    Dr.    Drum- 

!)ommion  is  most 
iber,  1898,  he  was 
elected  a  Fellow 
of  the  Royal  So- 
ciety of  Literature 
of  England;  in  the 
iiame  year  he  was 
entertained  by  the 
Canadian  Society 
of  New  York,  and 
recently  he  has 
created  a  literary 
sensation  in  Chi- 
cago by  his  read- 
ing ot  his  poems, 
and  been  the  guest 
of  that  city's  cele- 
brated Twentieth 
Century  Club.  As 
a  lad  Dr.  Drum- 
mond's favourite 
authors  were  Wil- 
liam Drummond, 
id  Captain  Cook ; 
iwn  words,  "  Kip- 

Digilized  by  Google 


mond,  in  his  study,  reads  a  new- 
ly wrought  poem — one  with  a  ripple  of 
life  and  salt  breeze  of  the  Gulf  ;  to  look 
up  at  shrewd,  kindly  old  Phil-o-rum 
smiling  from  the  wall ;  to  smile  at  some 
beaming"  celebrity  on  the  mantelpiece  ; 
and  to  glance  regretfully  from ,  an 
exquisite  photograph  of  tree-hung  river 

of  running  water  to  the  bare  branches 
and  driving  sleet  without,  one  feels  that 
this  man  has  not  only  attained  much, 
but  has  the  material  and,  above  all.  the 
soul  with  which  to  do  more,  to  the 
glory  of  our  dear  land  and  the  ennobling 
of  her  sons, 

E.  Q.    V. 



"  'T^RAVEL  makes  a  full  man,"  said 
*-  Lord  Bacon.  I  am  not  sure 
that  I  have  the  quotation  right  ;  per- 
haps it  is  "  reading  "  that  makes  a  full 
man,  or  probably  drinking ;  anyhow,  a 
man  picks  up  a  good  deal  of  informa- 
tion while  travelling  which  he  would  not 
acquire  had  he  remained  at  home. 
Nearly  everything  I  know  I  have  picked 
up  on  the  road  from  one  tramp  or  an- 
other, and  although  I  have  met  scient- 
ists who  sneer  at  my  acquirements,  I 
put  their  contempt  down  to  jealousy, 
because  the  learning  they  possess  has 
been  gathered  slowly  and  painfully 
from  much  reading  of  books,  while  I 
arrive  at  my  knowledge  through  a  few 
minutes'  pleasant  conversation  with  an 
utter  stranger.  Scientists  naturally  do 
not  like  another  man  to  take  a  short 
cut  across  the  fields  of  knowledge,  they 
stick  to  the  broad  roundabout  beaten 
highway  of  education  ;  a  dry  and 
dusty  road;  while  I  take  a  pleasant 
path  across  the  fields  and  arrive  ahead 
of  them. 

For  instance,  I  was  returning  from 
Switzerland  a  while  ago,  and  in  the 
same  railway  compartment  with  me 
were  three  cyclists  who  had  been  en- 
joying themselves  among  the  moun- 
tains. They  were  quite  evidently 
bashful  countrymen,  while  I,  being 
from  the  city,  and  knowing  most 
things,  spoke  condescendingly  to  them, 
just  as  if  they  were  my  equals,  so  as 
to  put  them  at  their  ease  with  me, 
which  is  my  invariable  custom  when 

meeting  non-citified  strangers.  They 
were  naturally  very  much  gratified  at 
this,  and  proceeded  to  tell  me  all  they 

"Yes,"  saidjohn  W.  Simpson,  lean- 
ing towards  me  with  thankfulness  for 
my  geniality  beaming  from  his  eyes, 
"  I've  had  a  very  nice  time  in  Switzer- 
land, thank  you,  a  very  successful 
time  ;  although  I  didn't  go  so  much  for 
the  cycling,  as  to  try  my  new  avalanche 

"  Your  avalanche  wheel  !  "  1  cried  in 
amazement,  "  I  never  heard  of  such  a 

"It  is  a  little  invention  of  my  own. 
Nothing  has  been  published  about  it 
yet,  and  1  tell  you  this  in  strict  con- 
fidence. Some  people  have  studied 
avalanches,  and  some  have  not.  Per- 
haps you  have  made  avalanches  a 
specialty  !  " 

"  No,"  1  replied  with  some  reluct- 
ance, hating  to  admit  my  ignorance, 
"I  can't  say  that  I  have  investigated 
avalanches  to  any  great  extent,  my 
sole  care  being  to  get  out  of  their  way 
as  quickly  as  possible." 

"  Quite  so,"  retorted  John  W.  Simp- 
son, "that  is  the  usual  attitude  of  man- 
kind towards  an  avalanche.  Of  course 
people  can't  study  the  habits  and  cus- 
toms of  avalanches  while  running  away 
from  them.  Now  I  have  estimated  that 
20,000,000  horse-power  goes  to  waste 
every  year  through  the  avalanches. 
Heretofore  nobody  has  made  any  effort 
to  use    this    tremendous    power,  and 


:y  Google 



avalanches  are  allowed  to  slide  down 
in  utter  idleness  all  over  the  place.     Of 
course,  when    people  grow  wiser  this 
wasted  force  will  all  be  utilized,  and  at 
present  I  am  doing'  a  little  in  my  humble 
way  to  show  how  useful    an  avalanche 
can  be   to   a  cyclist.      It  takes  a  man, 
roped  to  a  couple  of  guides,  ten  hours 
to  descend  from  the  top  of  the  Jungfrau 
to  the  level  ground 
below.      The    dis- 
tance is,  with  the 
zigzagging      they 
must    do,    some- 
thing under  eleven 
miles,  now  I  have 
done    it     in     two 
minutes    and    six- 
teen seconds' 
avalanche       bike. 
Look  what  a 
ing  of  time  thi 


' '  Comfort  1 


_  do  you 

mean  to  tell  me 
you  have  cycled 
down  an  avalan- 
che ?  " 

"  I  have  cycled 
down  forty-seven 
of  them  this  sea- 
son, and  never  had 
an  accident,  except 
once  I  punctured 
the  tireon  thefront 

"  But  how  do 
you  know  when  an 
avalanche  is  going 
to  start  ?  As  I  un- 
derstand you,  you 
must  travel  with  it 
from  the  begin- 
ning. There  are  n 
tables  in  Switzerland  that  I  ever  heard 

"  No,  I  don't  wait  for  avalanches,  1 
make  my  own.  You  see,  at  the  top  of 
a  mountain,  if  a  man  starts  a  snowball 
down  hill,  it  becomes  an  avalanche  on 
very  short  notice.  My  cycle  is  so  con- 
structed that  it  throws  up  a  bit  of  snow- 

ball as  it  goes  along.      I  start  from  the 
top  of  a  peak  in  any  direction,  and  the 
first  thing  I  know  I  an\  in  the  midst  of 
a  tremendous  avalanche.     On  the  front 
of  the  machine  are  a  couple  of  fins,  if  I 
may  call   them  so,    which  spread  out 
automatically,  and  they  keep  the  cycle 
steady.     The  great  point  is,  of  course, 
to  remain  upright  in  your  saddle  and 
keep  your  machine 
on  the  surface  of 
the         avalanche. 
There    is    lots     of 
room    on   top,    as 
the       philosopher 
says,  and  that  ap- 
plies to  avalanches 
as    to    everything 
else.     There     are 
three  dangers  to  a 
man  coming  down 
without  a  machine 
on  an  avalanche  ; 
first,    he    may    be 
smothered    in   the 
debris;  second,  he 
may    be    smashed 
against    a    rock  ; 
third,  he  may  get 
ahead  of  the  aval- 
ancheand  the  wind 
which     it     causes 
will  kill  him.  More 
people    are    killed 
every  year  in  Swit- 
zerland     by     the 
wind  of  an  avalan- 
li  che    than    by    the 

'  avalanches    them- 



ii  fora\alanche-.,  I  11 

avalanche  time- 

see,  going  with 
the  avalanche  you 
are  out  of  the 
wind,  then  the  fins 
on  my  machine 
keepyoufrom  sink- 
ing in  the  snow,  and  if  you  strike  a  rock 
the  wheels  revolve  and  send  you  up  into 
the  air,  where,  after  a  most  delightful 
flight,  steadied  by  the  patent  fins  I  have 
spoken  of,  you  join  the  avalanche 
i  lower  down.  I  know  of  nothing  more 
exhilarating  than  going  eleven  miles  in 
two  minutes  and  sixteen  seconds. 
When  the  avalanche  quits  business    at 


:y  Google 



the  bottom,  your  momentum  carriesyou 
out  of  it  until  you  strike  some  path,  and 
then  you  cycle  along  as  any  ordinary 
man  would  on  any  ordinary  wheel.  I 
intend  to  get  up  avalanche  parties  for 
Switzerland  next  summer,  and  we 
would  be   very  glad  to  have  you  join 

There  was  a  deep  silence  after  John 
W.  Simpson  had  concluded.    I  mopped      machine- 
brow      and 

thought  deeply  for 
a  while  ;  then  I 
said  to  the  man 
who  sat  next 
Simpson,  Lap- 
thorn  Davis  by 
name  ; 

"  I  suppose  you 
have  been  avalan- 
ching  with  your 
friend  also  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Da- 
vis with  a  sigh; 
"  I'm  afraid  1  am 
rather  a  reckless 
person,  and  tame, 
plain  ordinary  av- 
alanche cycling, 
such  as  my  friend 
Simpson  delights 
in,  has  few  attrac- 
tions for  me.  I 
have  been  practis- 
ingwith  my  aquat- 
ic bicycle,  which 
has  quite  justified 
all  the  expecta- 
tions I  had  of  it." 

'  Dear       me," 

two  wheels  could  be  made  on  somewhat 
similar  lines.  I  accordingly  ordered  two 
gigantic  pneumatic  tires,  a  foot  and  a 
half  through.  1  had  these  fitted  on  my 
wheel  and  practised  for  a  while  on  a 
pond  at  home  in  a  bathing  suit  until  1 
got  thorough  control  of  my  machine. 
"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  venture 
he  surface  of  the  water  with  that 
lo  you  keep  afloat  ? 
Doesn't     it     turn 

!aid  1, 


is  an  aquatic  bicy* 

"Well,  perhaps 
you  have  been  over 

1  Ha' 

md  hai 

V  roller 

e  seen  the 
steamer,  the  Ernest  Basin,  invented 
and  built  by  an  engineer  of  that  name. 
As  doubtless  you  know,  it  goes  on  six 
wheels,  which  are  simply  exaggerated 
pneumatic  tires  made  of  steel.  There 
are  three  on  each  side,  and  Sir  Edward 
Reed  says  that  he  believes  this  wheeled 
boat  will  mark  an  era  in  steam  naviga- 
tion.     It   struck  me  that  a  bicycle  on 

"Yes,  it  is  a  lit- 
tle apt  to  do  that 
until  you  get  ac- 
customed to  it.  Of 
course  you  turn 
the  wheel  toward 
the  direction  you 
are  falling  and  by 
and  by  you  go 
along  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  water 
as  if  you  were  on  a 
smooth  road.  Of 
course  I  don't  ad- 
vise anyone  to 
practice  in  an  or- 
dinary suit,  but 
even  then  there  is 
little  danger,  be- 
cause the  two 
~N  wheels  form  life 
~~^  preservers  when 
the  machine  goes 
over.  At  first  I 
intended  to  take 
off  these  huge  cov- 
ers whenl  was  Cy- 
cling along  the 
road,  but  after  1 
found  they  made 
the  machine  very 
easy  riding  I 
didn't  trouble  to  remove  them,  but  ran 
along  the  road  until  I  came  to  a  canal 
or  a  river  and  then  took  to  the  water, 
coming  out  on  the  road  again  when  I 
got  tired  of  aquatic  travelling." 

"  But  can  you  get  up  any  speed  on 
that  machine  ?  " 

"That  is  just  the  trouble.  As  my 
wheel  is  now  constructed,  you  can't  go 
very  fast  on  the  water,  but  I  think  that 


:y  Google 



might  be  easily  remedied  by  sort  of  fin- 
shaped  paddles,  like  my  friend  has  on 
his  avalanche  bike  ;  still,  it  was  not  for 
smooth  water  I  wanted  it.  You  see, 
there  are  a  great  many  cataracts  in 
Switzerland,  of  which,  owing  to  their 
situation,  it  is  impossible  to  get  a  com- 
plete view.  My  pleasure  consisted  in 
going  over  the  cataracts." 

"  Good  gracious  !  "  I  ejaculated. 

"  It  is  well  to  have  a  good  water- 
proof on  if  you  are  particular  about 
getting  wet.  After  practising  on  the 
lakes  of  Switzerland  until  I  had  full 
control  over  my  machine,-  -I  took  the 
train  up  the  Goschenen,  and  from  there 
went  to  Andermatt  and  started  down 
the  Reuss,  which  as  you  know  is  a  very 
turbulent  stream.  1  found  a  good  deal 
of  difficulty  in  keeping  upright,  espe- 
cially in  such  turns  as  when  we  dashed 
under  the  Devil's  bridge,  but  it  is  safe 
enough  if  you  keep  your  head  and  don't 
get  excited.  You  bounced  up  into  the 
air  a  good  deal  when  you  strike  the 
rocks,  as  my  friend  does  when  coming 
down  an  avalanche,  but  on  the  whole 
it  forms  a  very  pleasurable  trip  to  start 
with.  Then  I  tackled  my  first  fall,  the 
Handeck  on  the  Grimsell  pass.  It  is 
hardly  possible,  except  from  the  top  to 
obtain  a  good  view  of  this  fall,  but  as 
you  go  over  it  on  the  bike  you  get  an 
excellent  idea  of  the  cataract  by  simply 
turning  your  head  as  you  go  down, 
taking  care,  however,  to  strike  fair  at 
the  bottom.  After  that  I  went  over  the 
Cries  pass  and  did  the  Tosa  river. 
The  Tosa  falls  are  470  feet  high  and 
85  feet  wide ;  that  is  a  trip  worth  doing, 
but  you  ought  to  look  over  your 
machine  very  closely  before  you  start 
it ;  be  sure  there  are  no  punctures  in 
the  big  cover,  and  tighten  up  the 
screws  a  bit.  I  have  no  patience  with 
cyclists  who  are  careless  about  their 
machines  when  taking  a  trip  like  this." 
"Then  you  got  safely  over  the 
Tosa?"  I  ventured. 

"O,  certainly,  several  times.  The 
last  time  I  went  over  backward  so  as 
to  get  a  better  view  of  the  falls  as  I 
went  down,  but  this  is  a  very  dangerous 
experiment,  and  I  do  not  recommend  it 
to  any  one  but  experts.     Still,  you  do 

get  a  much  better  knowledge  of  the 
falls,  and  it  is  preferable  to  craning 
your  neck  round  as  you  have  to  do 
when  you  descend  face  forward.  But 
it  has  its  drawbacks,  because  when 
you  get  down  to  the  turmoil  at  the  bot- 
tom and  have  to  circle  round  and  turn 
your  bike,  the  situation  presents  many 
difficulties  which  I  would  not  advise  an 
amateur  to  encounter.  I  intend  to  do 
Niagara  when  I  reach  home,  but  won't 
try  it  backward  at  first." 

Again  there  was  deep  silence  in  the 
railway  compartment,  and  it  was  some 
moments  before  I  could  command  my 
voice  sufRciently  to  make  myself  intel- 
ligible. I  looked  at  the  third  man, 
George  Washington  Verity,  he  said  his 
name  was.      He  said  : 

' '  Of  course,  if  I  had  not  seen  my  two 
comrades  do  what  they  say  they  have 
done,  I  might  have  some  difficulty  in 
believing  their  narrative." 

"  O,  no,"  I  said  ;  "  truth  is  stranger 
than  fiction,  especially  in  bicycling,  as 
your  two  comrades  bear  witness.  I 
have  no  difficulty  in  believing  every 
word  they  say,  but  that  perhaps  is  be- 
cause I  have  been  living  in  Switzer- 
land, and  feel  particularly  robust.  In 
my  ordinary  state  of  health  I  don't 
know  that  I  could  have  swallowed  the 
avalanche,  even  when  washed  down  by 
the  Tosa  falls.  But  have  you  had  no 
adventures  on  your  cycle,  Mr.  Verity  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  not  one;  that  is, 
not  one  worth  speaking  of,  I  kept  to 
the  ordinary  roads,  and  did  the  plain 
everyday  cycling.  I  did  have  a  little 
excitement  coming  down  the  Stelvio 
pass.  Perhaps  you  know  that  road, 
the  highest  pass  in  Europe.  It  runs 
between  Italy  and  the  Tyrol." 

"  Yes,   I  have  been  over  it." 

"Then  you  know  on  the  Tyrol  side 
how  the  road  zigzags  down,  and  how 
frightfully  steep  it  is.  At  the  spot 
where  the  man  threw  his  wife  over  you 
are  doubtless  aware  there  is  a  sheer 
cliff  a  mile  deep.  I  resolved  to  cycle 
down  the  Stelvto  pass,  and  in  order 
that  this  might  be  done  in  safety  I 
bought  a  tree  from  a  wood  cutter  up 
at  the  top  and  tied  it  with  a  rope  to 
the    back  part  of  my  bicycle,  SO  that 





it  might  act  as  a  brake  and  a  di 
I  went  down  the  steep  incline." 

' '  I  have  heard 
of  such  a  thing  \ 

being  done,"  1 
said,  glad  to  be 
on  familiar 
ground     once 

"Yes,  it  is  a 
very  old  device. 
You  hitch  the 
rope  round  the 
butt  end  of  the 
tree  and  let  the 
branches  scrape 
al  ong  the  groun  d . 
there  had  fallen 
a  little  snow,  and 
the  night  before 
there  had  been 
a  sharp  frost ; 
so,  besides  being 
steep,  the  road 
was  exceedinifly 
slippery.  By  and 
by,  to  my  horror, 
I  found  the  tree 
was  chasing  me, 
butt  forward,  and 
instead  of  acting 
as  a  drag  on  my 
wheel,  I  had  to 
pedal  like  one 
demented  to  keep 
clear  of  it.  There 
was  no  going  to 
one  side  and  get- 
ting out  of  its 
way,  because, 
you  see,  I  was 
tied  to  it  with  a 
rope,  and  my 
only  salvation 
was  to  keep 
ahead  of  it.  1 
thought  I  was 
going  tosucceed, 
and  did  succeed  ^  > 

until  we  came  to 
that  sharp  turn- 

tree  struck  against  the  granite  rock  and 
bounced  over,    dragging  me  and   the 
bicycle    after 

"Su  fTeriag 

Peter  I"  I  cried, 

"what    a    situ- 

-    atioo  [     Nothing 


nile     of 

mg    ; 


the   Waloon    committed  his   murder. 
There,  to  my  horror,  the  trunk  of  the 

with    the    branches 

clear  air  between 
you  and  the  bot- 
tom of  the  gran* 
ite  cliff  !  " 

said  Geo  rge 
Washington,  "I 
see  you  know  the 
spot.  Now  it 
takesa  good  deal 
longer  to  drop  a 
mile  than  most 
people  think  it 
does,  and  I  be- 
lieve, in  fiction, 
that  a  man  in 
such  a  position 
spends  the  time 
in  going  over  all 
his  past  deeds, 
especially  those 
of  a  sinful  na- 
ture. 1  knew 
when  I  started 
there  would  not 
be  time  enough 
for  me  to  con 
over  all  the  evil 
I  had  done  dur- 
ing my  short  life ; 
so  I  abandoned 
the  attempt,  and 
thought  instead 
of  how  1  could 
best  save  my  bi- 
cycle, which  was 
a  new  machine.  I 
left  the  saddle, 
climbed  down  the 
rope,  and  took 
up  a  position  on 
the  butt  end  of 
the  tree,  which 
was  going  down 
beneath ;    so    I 

thought  that  if  I  could  keep  it  in  this 



position  the  branches  would  act  as  a 
series  of  spring's,  whereas,  if  it  turaed 
and  went  down  butt  first,  I  should  very 
likely  get  an  arm  broken,  besides 
wrecking  an  expensive  wheel,  on 
which,  unfortunately,  there  was  no  ac- 
ddent  insurance.  1  resolved  1  would 
never  travel  in  Switzerland  agfain  with- 
out insuring  my  bike.  I  found  that  by 
swiogpng  my  body  this  way  and  that, 
1  could  keep  the  tree  in  the  perpendic- 
ular ;  so,  pulling  on  the  rope,  I  got 
the  bicycle  down  to  me,  and  tied  it  to 
a  branch  so  that  it  would  not  flop 
about.  I  shall  never  forget  the  sick- 
ening sensation  with  which  we  reached 
the  bottom.  I  had  much  trouble  in 
hanging  on  to  the  butt  of  the  tree  when 
we  struck,  though  my  arms  were  clasp- 
ed tightly  round  it.  The  branches  act- 
ed just  as  I  thought  they  would,  and 
the  next  instant  we  had  taken  a  great 
leap  upward  again.  The  tree  hopped 
like  a  gigantic  frog  down  the  valley 
for  about  three-quarters  of  a  mile,  or 

perhaps,  to  be  strictly  accurate,  be- 
tween half  a  mile  and  three-quarters, 
and,  then  subsiding,  it  dumped  me 
gently  into  the  torrent  which  flows  at 
the  bottom  of  the  gigantic  clifl'.  I  was 
unhurt,  but  I  regret  to  say  that  the 
handle-bar  of  my  machine  was  bent  a 
little  and  one  of  the  pedals  was  knock- 
ed askew.  However,  these  little  ac- 
cidents are  bound  to  occur  to  a  man 
who  does  much  wheeling." 

The  train  coming  to  a  standstill  at 
this  point,  I  asked  the  boys  if  they  had 
any  more  adventures,  and  they  replied 
that  they  had  only  just  begun,  and  had 
told  me  merely  the  commonplace  oc- 
currences which  had  befallen  them. 
This  being  the  case,  I  shook  hands 
with  the  three  of  them,  and  sought  an- 
other carriage.  One  sometimes  gets 
enough  of  information  in  an  hour  to 
last  him  several  weeks,  and  I  thought 
it  better  not  to  overcrowd  my  mind  by 
stuffing  into  it  any  more  knowledge  ac- 
quired from  the  three  truthful  bicyclers. 



/'HEN  Spring  comes  into  my  swamp, 
Soft-footed  as  any  fawn. 
The  poplars  blow  to  green 
Like  the  lift  of  a  magic  dawn. 

The  alders,  brown  and  bent. 
Stir  at  her  coming,  too. 
And  toss  their  catkin  blossoms 
Up,  and  against  the  blue. 

When  Spring  comes  into  my  swamp. 
Music  and  joy  are  rife  ; 
The  frogs  come  out  to  greet  her, 
Each  with  his  stiver  fife  : 

AH  day,  in  the  pale,  green  shadows, 
All  night,  beneath  the  moon 
They  pipe  to  the  Princess  May-time, 
And  black-birds  know  the  tune. 

When  Spring  comes  into  my  heart, 
The  thoughts  start  fifing  again ; 
The  gladness  wakes  in  my  blood, 
The  magic  wakes  in  my  pen. 

Theodore  Roberts. 

Digitized  byGoOgIc 

q^HE  Kins  oi  ThuU  had  a  cup 
^      From  whidi  he  ever  toed  to  lufv 

A  aoble  flas:ont 
lo  hisfh  relief  on  either  shield 
A  dreadful  combat  was  lerealed 
Where  doug^hty  knights  their  falchions  wield 

Against  a  dragon  I 

Andf  oh,  it  was  a  fearsome  beast! 
Alive,  ft  measured  rods  at  least  I 

Twould  make  you  gulp,  surcl 
Each  eye  was  fitted  with  a  jewel. 
The  Thing  could  almost  see  the  duet. 
And,  oh,  its  glance  was  deadly  cruel, 
A  trick  of  sculpture! 

So  fiercely  showed  the  knotted  claws. 
The  spiky  teeth,  the  horrid  jaws. 

The  scales  so  sheeny; 
So  grandly  strode  each  warring  knight. 
Each  link  of  maillet  graved  aright 
You  would  have  thought  the  goldsmith  bright 

A  new  Cellini. 

For  he  had  breathed  the  combafs  rage. 
And  fixed  upon  his  golden  page 

Each  living  gesture. 
And,  then,  to  prove  a  milder  art — 
No  doubt  the  work  was  from  his  heart — 
The  man  had  chosen  to  impart 

A  leafy  tressurcl 

But  that  is  neither  here  nor  there  1 
Tis  not  for  us  to  tell  his  care 
Who  did  the  carving. 

7°  DigilizedbyGoOglC 


Perhftps  he  waa  a  handionie  blade. 
The  pet  of  matvon  and  of  maid; 
Perhaps  tfie  wretch  was  never  paid 
And  died  a-starv)n;l 


That  as  it  may  I    The  King  set  store 
Upon  the  cup  for  something;  more 

llian  art  or  mintagie; 
For  Lore  and  Death  did  there  combine 
To  diildfy  the  sharpest  wincf 
And  make  the  dullest  liquor  shine 

A  radiant  vintage  1 

It  stood  to  him  for  all  the  bliss 
"Hiat  ceremtMiious  monarehs  miss, 

Omstrained  by  fashion; 
Twas  given  to  him  by  his  spouse. 
And  though  a  servile  world  allows 
A  kins:  some  scope,  he  kept  his  vows 

W^ith  loyal  passion. 

The  miiistrels  sang  her  winsome  grace. 
The  beauty  of  her  form  and  face. 

Her  hair  so  Titian; 
Her  eyes  full  orbed  and  dewy  bright, 
Her  t^y  lianda  and  lily  white. 
Her  twinkling  footstep  fairy  light. 

Yet  quite  patrician! 

All  this  and  more  was  in  their  lays. 
And  Thul^  paid  them  for  thdr  praise 

In  brave  largesses; 
And  in  a  world,  with  hatred  rife. 
The  Kins:  of  Thul^  loved  his  wife. 
And  loved  her  truly  all  her  life 

And  her  caresses! 

And  ever,  at  the  evening  hour. 
The  flagon  plenished  in  her  bower, 

The  monarch  sought  her; 
She  kissed  the  cup  for  him  to  quaff, 
He  kissed  his  sweetheart  with  a  laugh. 
Then  drained  the  posset  to  the  draff 

As  it  were  water! 

Such  was  their  wont  until  the  war 
Renwred  him  to  a  distant  shore 
And  much  aff rayed  her ; 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 


For  he  was  brave  ax  he  wai  true. 

And  in  the  van  his  pennon  flew, 

So  much  his  anxious  mitiress  knew 

Of  her  CrusatUr. 

But  one  dark  day  a  herald  sped 

To  speak  ttte  news  "The  Kbig  is  dead  I 

Alack  to  hear  iti 
I  got  it  in  the  Cairo  mart; 
The  bowyer  said  a  Paythan  dart 
Had  found  the  monarch's  mighty  heart 

And  loosed  his  spiritl" 

A  lily  seared  by  winter's  touch, 
A  cushat  in  the  falcon's  cluteli. 

So  was  tier  sorrow  j 
The  stricken  lady  made  no  moan. 
She  bore  a  mortal  gfrief  alone. 
And,  in  her  bower,  they  found  her  prone 

Upon  the  morrow  I 

E'en  while  her  funeral  dirges  rt^Ied 
Into  the  courtyard  caracokd 

The  King's  Esquire  t 
"God  save  the  Queen  I "  be  louted  low. 
"The  King  of  Thul^  bids  her  know 
He  lives  and  vanquishes  his  foe 

With  carnage  dire  I" 

Thus,  though  the  bruh  was  proven  false 
The  lady  slept  among  ttie  vaults 

And  mural  brasses; 
Her  beauty,  marbled  on  her  tomlv 
Shone  sadly  in  the  abbey  gloom 
Rfidst  holy  chants  and  censer's  fume 

And  solemn  masses. 


And  far  away  midst  war's  alarm 
Tlie  tidings  steeled  the  monarch's  arm 

To  vengeful  madness: 
And  pondering  his  Queen's  demise. 
Black  fancies  brooded  in  his  eyes 
And  craved  a  bloody  sacrifice 

Unto  his  sadness. 

But  when,  at  length,  the  King  returned 
And  sought  the  tomb  and  her  inumed. 
He  rued  his  folly: 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 


For  gatingf  on  Iwr  hallowed  rot 
The  p^n  was  softened  in  his  breast 
And  chastened  g^rief  his  heart  oppressed 
And  melancholy. 

And  ever  at  the  evening;  hour 
He  offered  in  her  lonely  bower 

A  Pater  Noster. 
The  cup,  her  sweetest  souvenir. 
Oft  showed  the  traces  of  a  tear 
And  he  would  pray,  though  none  migfht  hear 

He  had  not  lost  her. 

And  when,  at  last,  he  came  to  die. 
He  bade  his  courtiers  lay  him  nigfh 

The  cup  he  treasured. 
"Now  fill  it  to  the  briml"  he  said. 
"I  drink  to  her  ere  I  be  sped. 
And  thouffh  the  years  have  been  as  lead, 

'Twas  God  who  measured  1" 

"I  drink  to  her  in  realms  above  I 

My  Queea,  my  wife,  my  only  love  1" 

Nauvht  further  said  he. 
For  having  drunk  his  loyal  toast, 
This  faithful  King  gave  up  the  ehost 
And  passed  unto  the  Heavenly  Host 

And  to  his  lady. 

Franklin  Gaxfafay. 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 



THE  old  shoebox  buggy  stopped  rat- 
tling when  it  got  into  the  long 
shadow  of  the  log  shanty  on  the  barley- 
stubbte,  but  it  soon  began  to  squeak 
worse  than  ever.  It  was  evident  the 
old  man  would  never  get  out  feet  first 
unless  he  climbed  over  the  cracked 
dashboard  and  let  himself  down  easy 
by  the  white  tail  of  the  old  mare — 
whenever  it  stopped  switching.  He 
thought  the  way  he  got  in  was  better, 
however,  and  began  to  ease  himself  out 
that  way,  like  a  cat  coming  out  of  an 
apple-tree.  Suddenly  the  shanty  door 
opened,  a  deep  voice  called  ' '  Caleb  ! " 
in  a  tone  chock-full  of  admonition — 
and  he  hung  on.  Then  came  a.  swirl 
of  dress  goods  over  the  parched  grass, 
and  in  three  seconds  a  massive  gray 
wrapper  stood  by  the  front  wheel.  A 
pair  of  black  cuffs  went  up  about  on  a 
level  with  a  black  straw  hat  tied  into  a 
poke  with  black  strings  over  black 
hair ;  under  which  a  pair  of  dark- 
circled  eyes  and  a  heavy  upper  lip 
seemed  to  have  it  all  their  own  way  in 
a  look  of  austere,  almost  Roman  be- 
nignity. It  was  the  Widow  Fal- 

"Jist  let  yourself  right  plumb  go, 
Caleb,"  she  said  in  a  tone  of  emer- 
gency. "  The  idee  o'  you  with  your 
rheumatiz  a-tryin'  to  git  out  of  a  buggy 
alone  1 " 

"Yes,  Nervy,"  squeaked  little  Caleb, 
dangling  one  greenish  trouser  leg  to 
find  the  foot-rest  below  ;  when  clutch ! 
went  one  black  culf  on  to  his  dusty 
shoulder,  the  other  one  at  his  knee, 
and  the  whole  tottlish  concern,  except 
the    buggy-box    itself,    fell    into    the 

widow's  arms.  Now  it  was  not  the 
first  time  Caleb  Tooze  had  felt  the 
widow's  gladiator  muscles  in  contact 
with  his  anatomy  ;  but  it  seemed  to 
him  by  the  time  he  got  to  the  grass  at 
her  feet  that  Saturday  evening  as  if 
she  had  never  felt  him  with  such 
searching  rigor  before.  Of  course,  he 
was  pretty  dusty,  as  she  said  ;  yet  she 
began  to  manipulate  his  stubby  frame 
as  if  she  had  been  a  masseur  and  he  a 
crippled  athlete ;  but  then  he  hadn't 
been  to  town  for  a  year,  and  he 
wouldn't  need  the  "good  coat"  again 
for  another  one  at  leasL 

"  Now,  Caleb,"  she  said  in  a  tone  of 
absolute  dictation,  "when  you  git 
your  supper  you  go  right  straight  to 
bed.  The  table's  ready  sot  an'  Pen- 
see'll  pour  the  tea  ;  but  she  ain't  to 
read  to  you  to-night,  not  a  word.  I 
put  the  bricks  in  the  oven,  fer  I  know- 
ed  you'd  be  fetchin'  a  cold  back  with 
you  on  to  your  rheumatiz,  an'  dear 
knows,  as  I  say,  a  cold  in  summer- 
time's worse'n  a  mortgage  on  a  poor 
farm  ;  it  never  let's  go.  How's  your 
head  now,  Caleb?"  as  she  stroked 
back  the  stray  hairs  from  his  forehead. 

"  Pretty  dang  bad,  Nervy.  Kind  o' 
aches  clear  across  the  top — " 

"  Kind  o'  down  over  the  eyes,  too, 
like  a  soggy,  wet  mornin'  in  harvest," 
suggested  the  widow  as  she  pushed 
back  the  old  man's  head  and  glared 
down  into  his  little  eyes,  "  Yes,  I 
know.  Caleb,  rheumatiz  is  like  new 
lye  on  does.  It  gits  in  and  eats,  and 
all  the  king's  horses  can't  git  it  out. 
It's  terrible." 

"  Terble !"  squeaked  Caleb.  "That's 
what  all  the  alminicks  says  an'  I  heerd 

•  "  The  Widow  of  Mums  '  is  a  study  in  rural  Ontario  life.  The  chief  characters  are :  Ibe 
Widow  Falconer,  ambitious  and  cra.ftv  ;  her  two  children,  Molly  and  Peart ;  Rudj^e  Moss,  a 
bulky  and  innocent  farmer  ;  Pensee  Vale,  the  iichool-leaclier  i  and  miserly  old  Caleb  Tooze. 
upon  whose  wealth  Widow  Falconer  hopes  to  reeonstmi't  the  fortunes  of  her  family.  The 
story  Is  an  oddity  in  Canadian  lileralure,  and  ii  from  (he  pen  of  a  young;  Canadian  of  much 
promise.     It  will  run  Ihroug^h  six  numbers.; — Editor. 





a  fellow  only  this  afternoon  on  the 
markit " 

"'Bout  it  flyio'  to  the  head,"  ioter* 
nipted  the  widow.  "  My  land  yes, 
like  a  wild  Injun  !  Caleb! "  she  added 
sternly,  "you'll  have  to  make  this  your 
last  trip  to  town.  We  can't  'ford  to 
have  you  commit  tin'  sooicide  like  this. 
There,  you  better  go  on  in  to  Pensee 

"  1  tell  you.  Miss  Vale,"  with  a 
superb  poise  of  her  right  black  cuff  as 
she  turned  to  a  slender  red-robed 
figure  in  the  doorway,  "  none  so  seein' 
as  them  that  will  see.  Poor  Caleb  I  he's 
shrinkin'  like  a  gansy  in  the  wash. 
What  a  turkey-raffle  we  be  in  this  life 
anyhow  when  it's  which  an'  tother  to 
see  who'll  be  grabbed  next." 

"  But  land  !  "  she  ejaculated,  seizing 
her  ponderous  skirt  a.s  she  made  one 
majestic  stride  to  the  buggy,  "  here  I 
be  talkin'  to  you  an'  Caleb  like  I  do  to 
my  own  Molly  an'  Pearty  to  hum  ;  when 
the  dear  knows  you're  both  childern, 
sech  lonely,  innocent  betn's  as  you  be 
too  with  no  one  to  mother  yous,  an' 
this  bein'  your  first  school,  Pensee,  an' 
the  first  girl  we  ever  had  into  it ;  why, 
it's  a  shame,  as  I  say,  an'  it  ud  be  a 
sin  at  our  very  doors  if  anything  wuz 
to  happen  to  Caleb  livin'  here  alone  as 
he  does  with  log-heaps  most  into  his 
back  door.  ,Now  don't  forgit  the 
bricks,  Caleb,"  she  added  sternly, 
"you  see  he  minds 'em,  Pensee;  but 
'e  mustn't  set  up  late.  Whoa,  Fanny, 
whoa  !  why  I  declare  if  the  sun  ain't 
clear  down  an'  me  an'  Molly  with  six 
cows  to  milk !  Good-night,  Pensee. 
Caleb " 

The  old  man  turned  on  the  thresh- 

"  Now  don't  forgit  the  bricks  in  the 
oven,"  she  said  impressively,  and  set 
her  foot  on  the  step.  One  black  cufF 
on  the  dash,  the  other  on  the  seat,  she 
lifted  her  massive  frame  into  poise ; 
the  buggy  lurched  like  a  ship  in  a 
storm  ;  she  swung  superbly  into  the 
seat ;  the  springs  sank,  and  too  full 
almost  to  rattle  the  buggy  turned  and 
followed  the  gray  mare  across  the 
stubble  into  the  lane. 

As  she  turned  over  the  bridge  at  the 

road  the  widow  could  see  at  a  single 
sweeping  glance  in  the  sober  light  of 
the  summer  evening  the  whole  of 
Mums ;  from  the  drab  school  and 
white  church  at  the  jog  to  the  left,  to 
the  .south  woods  and  fields  of  tasseling 
corn,  with  snug  houses  and  barns, 
along  the  concession  clear  to  the  solid 
wall  of  the  Canada  Company  woods 
under  the  yellow  west.  She  didn't 
own  it  all.  If  she  had  she  might  not 
have  been  quite  so  careful  over  Caleb 
Tooze  and  his  ride  to  town  that  Satur- 
day afternoon.  If  she  hadn't  been 
second  cousin  to  Caleb  she  might  not 
have  owned  the  big  square  house  with 
the  green  shutters  behind  the  maples 
next  form  up  ;  and  Caleb  might  not 
have  borrowed  her  old  shoebox  buggy 
to  ride  to  town. 

It  took  the  old  mare  a  good  while  to 
jog  across  Caleb  Tooze's  two  hundred ; 
but  she  was  long  through  her  oats  and 
down  to  grass  in  the  quince-orchard 
that  night  before  the  widow  went  to 
sleep.  That  Saturday  afternoon  and 
that  ride  to  town  had  been  a  conundrum 
to  the  widow.  She  liked  conundrums  ; 
but  if  she  could  have  solved  this  one 
by  an  examination  of  bachelor  Caleb 
Tooze's  anatomy  she  would  have  kept 
him  in  his  dooryard  brushing  dust  from 
his  "good  coat"  till  it  got  so  dark  he 
couldn't  tell  it  from  the  grass.  Vet 
she  knew  as  well  as  she  knew  most 
other  things  of  importance  that  tran- 
spired outside  her  line  fences  that,  some- 
where within  the  limits  of  the  old  man's 
greenish  homespun  when  she  lifted  him 
out  of  the  buggy  that  evening,  was  the 
reason  of  that  ride  to  town  on  the  last 
Saturday  of  August,  1884 ;  also  the 
key  to  the  riddle  that  had  kept  her 
generous  soul  on  the  rack  now  about 
the  eighth  new  moon. 

That  night  two  men,  one  with  an 
axe  the  other  with  a  lantern,  sat  on  the 
widow's  line  fence  at  the  rear  of  the 
corn  field  on  Caleb  Tooze's.  The  dog 
climbed  it  and  started  on  a  trip  into 
the  corn.  The  big  slashing  of  log- 
heaps  behind  Caleb's  shanty  was  still. 
Caleb's  end  windows  with  green  blinds 


:y  Google 


gleamed  along  the  front  of  it.  The 
few  katydids  in  the  bush  back  of  the 
log-heaps  stopped  screeching  whenever 
the  dog  snuffed  and  rustled  back  near 
the  edge  of  the  corn. 

"Guess  there  ain't  been  no  coon  in 
yet,  Peart,"  said  a  deep  voice  after  a 
prolonged  silence.  The  speaker,  who 
was  squatted  heavily  with  his  boot- 
heels  clenched  on  the  third  rail  down, 
held  out  his  axe  at  arm's  length.  "Put 
yer  lantern  on,  Peart,"  he  said.  "Then 
you  kin  kick  as  often  as  you  like,  an'  if 
you  don't  kick  off  the  lantern  with 
your  arms  folded  I'll  bet  1  don't  wobble 
the  axe  as  long  as  you  tech  it." 

Peart,  reclining  lightly  at  the  corner 
of  Ihepanelmerelygrunted  for  response. 
He  was  not  in  kicking  mood  that  night. 
If  he  had  been,  Rudge  Moss,  his  six- 
foot  chum  who  could  stand  in  a  half 
bushel  and  shoulder  a  bag  of  wheat 
with  his  teeth,  need  not  have  challenged 
him  twice.  Peart  was  something  of  a 
wildcat  in  both  build  and  temper. 
Rudge  was  a  bear  in  physique.  United 
they  were  as  capable  a  team  as  could 
have  been  found  in  that  part  of  South 
Ontario  between  Erie  and  St.  Clair. 
Divided  they  had  never  been  as  yet. 
Rudge  never  expected  they  would  be  ; 
for  he  was  the  most  guileless,  unsus- 
pecting nature  in  Mums.  Peart  some- 
times vaguely  surmised  that  if  matters 
ever  did  come  to  such  a  state  of  rupture 
his  best  hold  would  be  either  to  trip 
Rudge  flat  on  his  back  with  one  foot, 
or  use  both  in  getting  out  of  range. 

Rudge  Moss  had  never  been  farther 
than  Detroit  in  his  life.  He  never 
wanted  to  be,  except  to  make  one  trip 
to  Niagara  Falls.  He  liked  to  stay 
round  where  he  could  see  the  marks  of 
his  hands,  and  he  had  left  a  good 
many  on  Mums,  for  there  had  not  been 
a  logging-bee,  a  bam-raising  or  a  pond- 
scraping  in  ten  years  on  the  Mums  con- 
cession that  he  had  failed  to  attend.  He 
was  ready  to  go  to  as  many  more  before 
he  should  settle  down  to  marry  some 
able-bodied  girl  who  could  stand  as 
much  sunlight  as  he  could  without 
writing  poems  about  it.  Rudge  was  a 
worker.  He  had  rather  chop  a  cord  of 
wood  than  play  a  game  of  cards. 


Peart  Falconer  was  different.  He 
could  do  more  things  with  a  machine 
or  a  team  of  horses  than  Rudge  could 
dream  about.  But  a  farm  was  no 
paradise  to  him.  He  hated  farming. 
Peart  had  always  been  an  omnivorous 
reader  ;  not  of  dime  novels  nor  of  any 
worse  books  than  he  had  chanced  to 
pick  up  about  the  house  during  the 
years  his  mother  boarded  the  school- 
teachers. Byron's  Poems  and  the  His- 
tory of  Canada  more  than  anything 
else.  As  far  as  the  latter  was  con- 
cerned he  knew  Wolfe,  Mackenzie  and 
Tecumseh  better  than  Lord  Durham. 
When  a  lad  at  the  drab  school  he  would 
permit  no  boy  able  to  spell  cat  to  be 
anything  but  a  rebel  or  a  patriot,  a 
Frenchman  or  an  Englishman,  a  Yan- 
kee or  a  Canuck,  as  the  humour  suit- 
ed him.  He  was  a  born  leader  of 
other  boys,  and  personated  both  Wolfe 
and  Mackenzie  in  the  schoolyard  with- 
out troubling  himself  at  all  over  the 
dramatic  distinctions.  Both,  to  his 
imagination,  were  heroes  fighting 
against  long-established  tyranny.  He 
always  wanted  the  best  snowballs r, 
wrestler  or  boxer  to  champion  the  op- 
posite. He  always  insisted  upon  Rudge 
Moss,  in  spite  of  his  loyalist  affinities, 
for  MontcaJm  ;  and,  whenever  the  north 
wind  heaped  the  snow  higher  than  the 
school  fence  he  set  alt  the  boys  to  work 
with  shovels  and  corn  baskets  piling  it 
higher  and  steeper.  Fifty  pails  of 
water  over  the  top  and  a  keen  starlit 
night  made  the  precipice  a  glare  of  ice. 
The  next  day  at  the  noon-spelt  was 
fought  the  historic  battle  of  the  Plains 
of  Abraham.  Handsleighs  along  the 
foot  of  the  embankment  served  for  a 
flotilla  on  the  great  river,  from  the  first 
of  which,  amid  the  rapt  stillness  of  the 
girls  looking  on,  Peart  would  declaim 
with  tragic  emphasis  and  bared  head 
the  famous  verse  ending  with  "  The 
paths  of  glory  lead  but  to  the  grave," 
always  varying  the  equally  famous 
postlude  of  the  great  chieftain  thus — 
"Gentlemen,  I  would  rather  be  the 
author  of  that  poem  than  take  Quebec, 
if  the  gentlemen  on  the  height  are 
cowards."  Then  would  begin  the 
ascent;   the  battle  followed  soon,    the 


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dramatic  denouement  of  which  never 
foiled  to  be  a  duel  and  a  wrestle  be- 
tween Wolfe  and  Montcalm  on  the 
verge,  climaxed  by  both  locked  in  each 
other's  arms  hurtling  headlong  to  the 
pile  of  soft  snow  beneath  wher^,  with 
ordinaries  and  dippers  of  water  to  com- 
mand, they  simultaneously  gasped  out 
their  lives. 

These  were  the  diversions  of  school- 
days. Rudge  and  Peart  never  took 
star  parts  in  military  dramas  again  ; 
but  often  at  night  in  the  haymow  after 
a  coon  hunt,  or  on  a  wet  day  at  a  bee, 
Rudge,  with  many  others,  had  listened 
while  Peart,  with  flashing  eye  and 
struck  pose,  told  the  story  of  Queens- 
ton  Heights  or  Moraviantown.  Peart 
never  failed  to  deliver  a  special  eulogy 
on  Tecumseh,  "  the  Indian  brave, 
whose  people  once  owned  a  continent, 
shedding  his  blood  to  keep  Canada  for 
Canadians."  Rudge  always  led  in 
the  applause.  He  never  understood 
the  military  rapture  of  his  boon  com- 
panion, but  he  admired  it. 

Latterly,  however,  Peart  had  begun 
to  take  less  and  less  interest  in  these 
glowing  recitals.  He  became  taciturn, 
moody  and  reclusive,  fond  of  little  com- 
pany hut  Rudge,  fonder  still  of  his  own, 
in  the  forest  or  behind  his  favourite 
team  of  iron-greys.  Mums  had  passed 
into  humdrum  for  him.  He  was  ready 
on  any  reasonable  pretext  to  shake  the 
dust  of  it  from  his  feet  forever. 

That  late  August  night  Peart  was 
more  restless  than  usual.  Rudge  knew 
it  ;  but  he  was  more  ignorant  of  the 
reason  than  he  was  of  the  whereabouts 
of  the  coon  Collie  was  trying  to  track 
in  the  com.  He  was  absorbed  in  that. 
Peart  Falconer  wouldn't  have  ran  ten 
rods  after  a  coon  that  night  if  the  corn- 
field had  been  full  of  them. 

Still  the  dog  rustled  in  the  com,  and 
Rudge  continued  to  listen  ;  when  sud- 
denly a  narrow  oblong  of  light,  broken 
by  the  dark,  slight  figure  of  someone, 
appeared  between  Caleb  Tooze's  win- 

"  Hum  ! "  grunted  Rudge.  "Guess 
Pensee's  sett'n  up  'th  Gale  t'night. 
Haint  a  bad  little  figger — is  she,  Peart  ? 
Time  she  was  gitt'n  home,  though,  or 

she'll  git  'er  feet  wet.  I  mind  maw 
speakin'  to  'er  'bout  that  this  aft'noon 
'fore  she  started  out.  Guess  she's  bin 
keepin'  shanty  for  Cale  white  he  was 
'way  to  town.  Wonder  why  the  ol' 
man  wouldn*  leave  the  house  alone  ? 
Mus'  be  a  pile  'o  money  in  it.  Peart, 
hey  ?  Rich  ol'  miser,  ain't  'e  ?  Pshaw  I 
that  dog's  a  long  time  gitt'n  on  trail." 

Rudge  was  already  so  intent  again 
on  the  movements  of  the  dog  that  he 
failed  to  notice  Peart,  who  had  sprung 
off  the  fence  and  now  paced  restlessly 
up  and  down  along  the  narrow  strip  of 
blue-grass  at  the  edge  of  the  corn. 

"Here,  Collie,"  shouted  Rudge  as 
the  dog  pulTed  sopping  out  of  the  corn 
and  flopped  himself  in  the  fence  corner 
like  a  side  of  pork,  "You  git  in  there 
agin.  George!  anybody  ud  think  you 
had  the  azma  the  way  you  snort.  Hit 
'im  a  kick.  Peart.  1  wonder  if  there  is 
a  coon  in  here  anyhow," 

The  dog  rustled  back.  Peart  leaned 
over  the  fence  looking  away  into  the 
straggled  forest  behind  Rudge  where 
the  katydids  were. 

"  S say  1  "     whistled      Rudge, 

whopping  his  big  bulk  about  so  sud- 
denly on  the  rail  that  the  fence  shook 
five  panels  each  way,  "  You're  gitt'n' 
the  mumps  I  guess.  Well,  if  I  knowed 
haf  as  much  'bout  Can'dy  as  you  I'd 
see  more  of  it'n  Mums  'fore  next  24th 
o'  May.  Pensee  says  yuh  know  more 
'bout  C'najun  hist'ry  now  'n  she  ever 
'xpec's  to ;  an'  she's  no  commoner. 
Say  she  is  a  neat  figger,  though,  aint 
she  Peart  ?  Tell  yuh  'taint  ever'  man's 
door  she'd  darken  that  way  neither. 
Seems  kin'  o'  queer,  though,  she's  suh 
free  'th  ol'  Cale  when  she's  suh  shy  'th 
rest  uv  us.  Pshaw  I  'f  I  had  your  ed- 
di  cation — " 

"You  wouldn't  be  a  reckless  fool 
that  reads  books  and  can't  pay  his 
debts,"  was  the  gloomy  rejoinder. 

"  Pshaw!  Go  easy  now.  A  man  'th 
a  head  like  you  got  aint  no  right  to  say 
'e's  a  fool.  'Taint  read'n  books  put 
yuh  in  debt." 

' '  When  your  folks  put  money  in  the 
bank,  while  we  can't  keep  up  the 
interest  on  a  mortgage,"  broke  in 
Peart  tersely.      "When  the  good  crops 


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come  on  your  place  and  the  weeds  on 
ours.  When  you  sit  together  on  winter 
nights  round  the  same  fire  and  think 
one  another's  thoughts ;  and  we  sit 
apart.  My  mother  hatches  expecta- 
tions. I  read  books.  Molly  can't 
fathom  us.      She's  honest." 

"  Yuh  can  put  that  'n  your  Bible  an' 
read  it,  yuh  bet,"  replied  Rudge  prompt- 
ly. "  Her  name  's  Falc'ner  too,  same 
as  yours." 

"  And  my  mother's,"  came  the 
ironical  rejoinder,  "the  woman  who 
plays  vulture  to  Caleb  Tooze,  ready 
for  the  last  twitch,"  he  added  bit- 
terly. "  It's  fifteen  years  now  since 
she's  rented  this  place  year  by  year. 
Two  hundred  a  year  puts  three  thou- 
sand in  Caleb  Tooze's  possession  some- 
where ;  for  all  he  eats  comes  from  us 
and  he  wears  the  same  clothes  now  he 
wore  when  my  father  died.  But  for 
every  dollar  we've  paid  him  we've  beg- 
gared ourselves  and  piled  up  the  mort- 
gage ;  we've  made  ourselves  a  nest  of 
deadbeats  ;  we  go  about  from  store  to 
store  hunting  credit ;  we  trade  now  at 
the  little  crossroad  shops  in  the  suburbs 
since  the  little  self-respect  we  have  left 
won't  permit  us  to  go  on  the  thorough- 
fare. We  despise  industry  and  thrift. 
Life  's  a  game.  Better  spend  it  gloat- 
ing over  the  few  threads  left  in  an  old 
man's  life  than  toiling  to  be  honour- 
able. 'Twas  harder  once  ;  easy  now 
since  habit  makes  it.  But  the  esteem- 
ed relative  will  die  soon.  We're  his 
sole  connexions.  We  expect  to  be  his 
heirs,  my  mother  and  I,  to  both  land 
and  money.  Therefore  we  cringe  and 
play  spy.     Bah  I  " 

All  which  was  delivered  in  so  gloomy 
a  tone  that  Rudge  could  only  split  an 
elm  stump  that  stood  in  the  fence  cor- 
ner into  kindling  for  reply,  Peart's 
pessimism  was  as  deep  a  puzzle  to  him 
as  his  boyish  military  fervour  used 
to  be. 

"  Peart,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  as 
he  peered  through  the  corntops  at  the 
shanty.  "She's  a  neat  figger,  aint 
she  ?  Yes,  an'  by  George  she's  good  ! 
She  don't  know  it  neither,  or  want 
anybody  else  to." 

"Modesty!"    muttered    Peart    half 

absently  in  reply,  as  he  too  looked 
through  the  corntops  at  the  narrow 
oblong  of  light  in  the  shanty.  "  Well, 
better  that  than  a  bold  face.  But  a 
girl's  eyes  may  tremble  under  their 
lashes,,  one  way  to  please,  another 
way  to  madden.  She  pleases  you  \  she 
maddens  me.  She  thinks  because  a 
man's  a  man,  he's  a  conspirator  against 
her.  She  holds  her  womanhood  against 
all  the  world  beside.  Well,  it's  a  big 
world.  She  may  need  a  man  to  help 
her  meet  it  some  day." 

"An'  she's  the  kind  a  man  'ud  go 
through  fire  an'  water  to  help,  eh 
Peart?"  suggested  Rudge,  glad  to  get 
his  moody  companion  off  on  subjects  of 

"Whether    she  scorn's  you  or  not 

"  Sure  I "  responded  Rudge.  "Say, 
I'd  fight  fer  a  c'nary.  George,  that 
dog's  a  long  time.  There,  she's  gone 
agin,"  as  a  slight  thud  came  from  the 

The  conversation  drifted  on  to  fisti- 
cuffs then,  and  from  that  to  fighting  in 
general.  Peart's  views  of  militarism 
were  different  from  Rudge's.  Rudge 
thought  a  man  should  fight  for  his 
country  and  its  government,  however 
strong  or  weak  it  might  be.  He  be- 
lieved a  Canadian  was  as  good  a  fighter 
as  an  Englishman,  and  therefore  one 
of  the  best  in  the  world.  Peart  sniffed 
at  that.  He  didn't  care  what  breed  a 
man  was  if  his  cause  was  just.  Wo- 
men had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  war. 
They  should  value  their  lovers'  lives 
more  than  the  empty  glory  of  their 
deaths  on  a  battlefield.  He  thought 
women's  love  for  men  was  very  much 
like  their  love  for  birds ;  better  the 
dead  skin  of  one  on  a  hat  than  a  live 
one  singing  in  a  tree. 

Rudge  was  about  to  make  a  spirited 
reply  on  behalf  of  patriotism  and  wo- 
man's rights  when 

Ouh — ouh — ouh  !  half  across  the 
cornfield  came  the  smothered  yelp  of 
the  dog. 

"Gol  !  There  'e  goes,"  shouted 
Rudge,  as  he  almost  shoved  the  fence 
down  getting  off.  "  S — ick  'im  Collie, 
s —  sik,   s—  sik  !      Here   gimme  the 


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light.  Peart.  Hooraw  !  S —  sik,  s — 
sik  !'■ 

Across  the  corn-headland  he  plunged 
into  the  slashing-,  just  as  the  dog  shot 
across  it  like  a  cannon  ball  and,  yelp  on 
'yelp,  tore  through  the  jampiles  towards 
the  bush.  Rudge  didn't  wait  to  see 
whether  Peart  followed  or  not.  That 
coon  wasleaving  hot  tracks  behind  him 
across  that  slashing  at  the  rate  of 
about  a  mile  a  minute.  So  was  the  dog. 
So,  as  near  as  possible,  was  Rudge. 
Round  the  jampiles,  through  the  uuder-,  over  the  logs,  smashing  limbs, 
log  trail  or  none,  didn't  care  which, 
but  yelling  s — sik !  s— sik  !  at  every 
yelp  of  the  dog  fainter  and  fainter  to- 
wards the  bush. 

"Let  him  go!"  muttered  Peart  as  he 
listened.  "He'll  have  the  thing  treed, 
the  second  time  too  likely,  long  enough 
before  I  get  there,  and  be  as  happy 
over  it  as  a  girl  in  love.  To-morrow 
he'll  go  to  Sunday  school  and  read 
verses.  I'll  go  to  the  woods  and  say 
Byron.  We'll  go  driving  together  at 
night.  Ah !  we  must  play  mask  with 
fine  phrases — for  when  a  man's  mother 
teaches  him  to  be  a  knave  he  must 
pick  his  way  ;  and  so  I  wilt.  Now  let 
evil  fight  my  good.  Let  conscience 
say  which  is  worse  ;  that  the  money 
we  have  sucked  from  our  living  and 
our  honesty  to  miser  for  Caleb  Tooze 
should  be  mine,  and  my  just  debts 
begin  to  be  paid ;  or  that  I  should  con- 
tinue to  play  rogue  to  honest  men  while 
1  help  my  mother  pray  for  the  quick 
death  of  our  only  relative  by  blood. 
H'm  !  'Tis  a  heavy  question.  But  it 
must  be  settled — this  night!" 

The  quick  stroke  of  an  axe  across  the 
slashing  roused  Peart  from  his  reverie. 
He  sprang  into  the  corn. 

Five  minutes  later  he  crouched  on 
the  step  of  the  shanty. 

Caleb  Tooze's  shanty  was  as  much 
like  the  harem  of  a  Sultan  as  he  desired 
it :  nisty  Fortune  stove  at  one  end, 
bare  table  in  the  middle,  bedstead  in 
one  far  corner  the  same  colour  as  the 
walnut  cupboard  in  the  other  ;  rickety 
puncheon  floor  ;  gray  log  walls    with 

clay  in  the  chinks.  The  wind  was  his 
most  frequent  visitor.  Minerva  Fal- 
coner was  next.  Both  came  without 
knock,  for  both  were  welcome.  Pen- 
see  Vale,  who  was  more  welcome  than 
either,  always  knocked. 

That  Saturday  night  Caleb  sat  hunch- 
ed over  his  knees  in  his  favourite  chair 
with  no  back,  near  the  stove  ;  one  leg 
over  the  other,  one  hand  clutching  his 
stick,  the  other,  shaking  like  a  leaf, 
on  top  of  that.  Caleb  seemed  to  have 
a  good  deal  of  life  in  his  hands.  Years 
of  neglect  had  stubbled  his  chin  ;  years 
of  self- consideration  had  wrinkled  his 
brow.  During  fifteen  of  these,  ever 
since  the  death  of  her  husband,  Miner- 
va Falconer  had  ministered  to  Caleb's 
domestic  needs.  He  knew  she  expect- 
ed the  farm  as  soon  as  he  was  done 
with  it  ;  he  expected  her  to  get  it. 
That  was  as  much  practical  benevo- 
lence as  Caleb  had  ever  known  ;  until 
Pensee  Vale  came  to  Mums  and  flung 
a  subdued  radiance  into  the  cobwebbed 
nooks  and  crannies  of  his  little  exist- 
ence that  almost  charmed  the  selfish- 
ness clear  out  of  it.  That  Saturday 
she  bad  kept  house  while  he  went  to 
town.  She  didn't  know  why  he  had 
insisted  upon  her  doing  so.  He  didn't 
intend  that  she  should,  at  present. 

Having  washed  the  supper-dishes, 
Pensee  sat  in  the  stubby  rocker  by  the 
table,  book  at  her  elbow.  She  had  the 
face  of  a  child.  The  shadow  of  beauty 
lurked  in  it,  fitfully  revealed  as  the  new 
moon  through  clouds,  obedient  to  the 
timorous,  undeveloped  emotions  with- 
in. Dark  eyes,  with  long,  downward 
lashes,  enhanced  the  native  pallor  of 
her  features  ;  eyes  whose  full  light  of 
resolution  no  one  had  ever  seen,  essen- 
tially fugitive  as  yet.  At  times  the 
transcendent  gleam  of  maidenhood 
shone  there,  fearless  in  solitude  or  in 
the  presence  of  the  old  man.  But  the 
touch  of  a  finger  sends  the  leaves  of 
the  sensitive  plant  into  coil,  jealous  of 
their  secret.  Pensee  shrank  from  soci- 
ability. Of  one  fact  she  was  supreme- 
ly conscious  :  her  maidenhood.  Other 
facts,  equally  great  and  cognate  to 
that  she  strove  to  ignore. 

As  far  as  Caleb  Tooze  was  concern- 


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ed  Pensee  Vale  and  Minerva  Falconer 
were  the  only  two  women  in  the  world. 
He  never  forgot  which  was  which. 
Minerva  didn't  intend  that  he  should. 
She  had  been  accustomed  to  consider 
herself  the  sun  about  which  Caleb  per- 
formed  the  tiny,  gradually  contracting' 
orbit  of  his  life.  Some  day  there 
would  be  a  crash,  and  as  far  as  she 
knew  astronomy  only  the  sun  would  be 

But  Caleb's  orbit  had  become  some- 
what eccentric  of  late.  The  only  per- 
turbing element  the  widow  could  see 
was  Pensee  Vale  ;  the  child  whom,  as 
far  as  inclinations  went,  she  could  have 
absorbed  into  her  life  as  the  baobab 
sucks  the  dew. 

All  that  Saturday  afternoon,  during 
his  ride  to  town,  in  the  lawyer's  office, 
and  home  again,  Caleb  Tooze  had  re- 
volved in  his  mind  the  separate  pictures 
of  these  two  women.  He  was  doing  it 

"  Say,  sis,"  he  squeaked,  as  he  poked 
Pensee's  foot  with  his  cane  and  looked 
over  his  shoulder  at  the  door,  "you 
know  Nervy  Falc'ner.  Well,  she's  a 
wise  gal,  but — " 

Caleb  paused,  clutched  tremulously 
at  his  coat-pocket  and  let  his  dry  face 
fry  into  a  chuckle.  Many  years  before 
Caleb  had  a  laugh  in  his  face  some- 
where. That  chuckle  was  the  ghost  of 
it.  He  almost  had  to  cough  it  up.  But 
he  felt  extremely  jolly. 

"  Nervy's  a  wise  gal,"  he  went  on, 
"  but  it  takes  two  to  bust  both  sides  of 
a  corn-shock  to  onct.  Hee — bee — 

Caleb  gave  a  nameless  squirm  to  his 
shrunken  anatomy  as  he  delivered  this, 
evidently  quite  pleased  at  having  the 
floor  in  the  absence  of  Minerva. 

"  Takes  two  fer  a  lot  o'  things,  sis," 
he  chuckled  on  again,  leaning  forward 
till  his  wizened  head  hung  like  a  dead 
flower  on  a  stalk.  His  little  eyes 
gleamed  like  fireflies  into  the  deep, 
placid  shadow  of  Pensee's. 

"Twoferamarryin'sis.  Huh?  Hee 
—hee— hee  ! " 

The  old  man  drew  back  in  sheer 
ecstasy  and  hugged  himself,  throwing 
up  one  foot  and   his  cane  almost  as 

high   as   his   head.     Then   he  settled 
over  his  knees  again. 

"Two  fer  a  bargin,  sis,"  he  went  on 
more  soberly.  "  One  to  be,  'tother  to 
do.  Mh — mh  !  Don't  matter  to  the 
one  's  long  's  the  other's  left.  Hah  ? 
Better  git  the  bricks,  sis,"  he  jerked 
abruptly,  as  he  clapped  his  left  heel  on 
to  his  right  toe  and  pulled  off  a  boot. 

Pensee  rose,  and,  taking  a  blanket 
from  the  bed,  removed  the  bricks  from 
the  oven.  Kneeling  at  the  old  man's 
feet  she  pulled  oflf  his  other  boot  while 
he  grabbed  the  stove- hearth.  Then 
she  placed  the  bricks. 

"  An'  when  'taint  marryin'  er  buryin' 
it's  bornin',"  went  on  the  sage  reflect- 
ively. "  Mh —  mh  !"  absently,  as  his 
scrawny  fingers  stroked  the  smooth 
oval  of  her  white  chin.  "  Takes  two 
fer  that,  too.  Poor  little  sis  I  Nev' 
knowed  your  mother,  did  yeh  ?  " 

Pensee  looked  wonderingly  up  into 
the  old  man's  face.  She  had  never 
known  him  so  benevolently  epigram- 
matical  as  before. 

"  Father  Caleb,"  she  said,  brushing 
away  a  quick  tear  with  the  back  of  her 
hand  like  any  child,  "  you  musn't 
make  me  cry  about  the  little  mother. 
Poor  mother  \  she  didn't  live  long 
enough  to  tell  her  only  child  what  she 
wanted  her  to  do.  And  so  Pensee 
goes  on  teaching  the  children.  After 
all,  sir,  I  guess  if  she  knew  it  she'd  be 
pleased,  wouldn't  she  ?  " 

Pensee's  simple  earnestness  pleased 
the  old  man.  She  was  sitting  artlessly 
on  the  rough  floor  now,  hands  clasped 
at  her  knee,  gazing  absently  into  the  . 
fire.  It  may  have  been  the  firelight 
that  flickered  from  her  red  wrapper  on 
to  her  chin  and  chased  itself  so  deli- 
cately up  into  her  pale  cheeks.  The 
old  man  saw  it,  and  bending  forward, 
let  his  tremulous  fingers  wander  into 
her  hair. 

"  Mh —  mh  !  "  he  chuckled  on  mur- 
murously,  "  but  it  takes  two  fer  a 
marryin',  sis.  Better  take  the  ol* 
bach's  advice,  an'  be  one  of  'em  when 
the  time  comes.  Then  yeh  won't  have 
to  set  'lone  in  a  shanty  when  you're 
old  er  teach  other  folkses'  chillen  for  a 
livin'.     Mh —  mh  I  " 


:y  Google 


"  Conscience  1 "  murmured  Pensee 
with  a  faint  smile,  "  I  wonder  what  a 
girl  is,  anyway.  '  Marry,'  says  one. 
'  Marry  not,'  says  another.  Foolish 
enough  either  way,  says  she.  Mh  I 
Now  if  one  had  but  a  wise  little 
mother  to  ask,  then  mig'ht  one  find  out. 
For  as  I  know  my  own  name  I  know 
two  ways  about  a  girl.  One  way  she's 
as  natural  and  happy  as  a  flower. 
Another  way — mh — h  I  Father  Ca- 
leb," looking  up  into  the  old  man's 
face,  "  I  wonder  if  all  girls  when  they 
talk  about  getting  married  feel  as  light 
as  their  words  ?  Then  I  think  we 
should  be  dolls  and  not  girts  ;  wax,  not 
flesh  and  blood.  For  when  I  think 
most  deeply  on  love  and  marriage  I 
have  most  fear  of  something  in  nature 
and  self  I  know  less  of  than  the  very 
stars.  No,  no,  Father  Caleb,"  as  she 
sprang  up  and  flinging  both  arms 
round  the  old  man's  neck,  kissed  his 
withered  cheek,  "  Pensee  Vale  came  to 
Mums  to  teach  the  children — nothing 
more;  but  to  love  them,  and  you." 

"  An'  as  sure  as  the  rufs  higher'n 
the  floor,"  said  Caleb,  as  he  caught 
her  hand,  "  the  man's  in  Mums  that'll 
marry  yeh." 

"  And  as  sure  as  1  respect  my  own 
true  self,  Father  Caleb,"  replied  Pensee 
solemnly,  "  the  prophecy  neverll  come 

Pensee's  deep  eyes  shone  with  a  rare 
light ;  the  light  that  some  day  perhaps 
must  be  their  only  safeguard  against 
bitterest  tears.  She  went  to  the  door, 
pulled  it  slightly  ajar  and  stood  on  the 

And  all  the  while  the  old  man  craned 
his  neck  and  watched  her,  hungrily, 

Suddenly  Pensee  turned,  as  a  dog 
snuffed  near  the  step,  and  with  a  quick 
little  laugh  shut  the  door  and  sat  down 
io  the  stubby  rocker  by  the  table. 
Without  waiting  for  an  invitation  she 
began  to  read. 

It  was  Evangeline.  The  low,  quick 
creak  of  the  rocker  blended  rhythmically 
with  the  dreamy  amble  of  the  verse ; 
and  as  Pensee  read  and  rocked  a  sub- 
dued light  of  quite  childish  absorption 
came  into  her  features. 

"Bent  like  the  l&bouring  oar  that  ((Mis  in  the 

surf  of  the  ocean, 
Bent  but  not  broken  by  ag'c  was  the  fortn  of 

the  notary  public — " 

Caleb  closed  his  eyes  and  shrank  into 
a  heap  over  his  knees  as  he  listened  to 
the  drowsy  music.  Suddenly  the  bark 
of  a  dog  sounded  just  west  of  the 
shanty.      He  started. 

"Mh!"  he  mumbled  without  opening 
his  eyes,  "coonin',  I  guess.  Peart  Fal- 
c'ner  an'  Rudge  Moss  likely ;  it's 
Rudge's  dog  anyhow.  Mus'  be  gitt'n 
'long  cent' the  R's  then  I  guess ;  Se'tem- 
ber,  'Ctober,  N'vember,  'Cember,  Jany- 
wary,  March,  Aprile.  Mh — mh.  All 
good  coon-months  them.  May  an' 
June's  bes'  fer  marryin',  I  guess;  any 
of  'em's  good  fer  the  bornin';  haint 
none  of  'em  ver'  good  fer  buryin'. 
Takes  two  fer  that ;  one  of  'em  don't 
know — that's  all  right ;  'tother  one's 
left — that's  all  right  too  if  she's  happy 
'long  o'  what's  left.  Mh — mh  !  Go 
ahead  with  yer  yarn,  sis.  Don't  sound 
sub  bad.  'T's  like  the  way  the  ol' 
mare  used  to  canter  on^e  Injun  trail, 
over  a  cradle-knoll,  under  a  lim'.  Ker- 
whollup,  kerwhol —  kerwh — " 

Caleb's  criticism,  of  the  metre  of 
Evangeline  died  away  into  a  low  grunt- 
ing.     Pensee  read  on. 

Presently  she  paused  to  listen. 
Through  the  almost  dead  stillness  of 
the  old  shanty  sounded  the  faint  regu- 
lar stroke  of  an  axe.  Soon  a  tree  fell, 
followed  by  the  smothered  yelp  of  a 
dog.  It  seemed  too  still  after  that  to 

Caleb's  chair  creaked.  "It'sall  right, 
sis,"  he  mumbled  dreamily  without 
opening  his  eyes,  "  Nervy  kin  run  this 
place  jes'  long  'z  she  likes  ;  but  she'll 
never  git  the  ole  man  out  o'  this  shanty 
not  tell  'e's  toted  out ;  an'  when  Cale 
Tooze  says  not  there  aintno  use  hitch- 
in'  on  a  team.  Kind  o'  thought  onct 
or  twict  I  might  pick  up  an'  go  over 
to  Nervy's  fer  the  winter,  hed  such  a 
cold  on  to  my  rheumatiz  she  said.  But 
it's  all  right  now — kerwhollup,  ker- 
wol — ,  kerwh — ." 

His  breath  came  regularly  now  with 
half  a  grunt.  A  spider  slid  down  from 
a  joist  io  the  ceiling  and  began  to  ex- 


:y  Google 



plore  the  bald  spot  oq  Caleb's  head. 
He  snored  on.  Pensee  saw  it  and 
smiled,  closed  her  book,  quietly  fixed 
the  fire,  pinned  loosely  an  old  shawl 
from  the  bed  about  the  old  man's 
"  good  coat "  that  he  had  worn  to  town 
that  day  and  silently  tiptoed  out. 

As  she  stepped  into  the  dewy  ta%- 
weed  of  the  stubble  she  started  and 
almost  dropped  her  book.  She  scarcely 
dared  look  back  at  the  corner  of  the 
shanty,  but  trembling'  she  did.  She 
saw  nothing  but  the  dim  outlines  of 
the  log  heaps;  listened,  only  the  faint, 
far  tap  of  the  axe  like  the  slow  drip  of 
water  into  a  pool.  She  glanced  about ; 
the  lights  of  Mums  were  gone ;  a  star 
or  two  hung  above  the  dark  shadow  of 
the  woods ;  alt  the  rest  seemed  flocking 
into  the  great  round  deep  above  and 
fading    there  into   a   wreath  of  white 

She  must  have  been  near  the  road 
when  a  swift  figure  glided  from  the  log 
heaps  on  to  the  doorstep  of  Caleb  Tooze 
and  listened ;  softly  the  door  open- 
ed, letting  ou#a  flood  of  light ;  as  softly 
it  closed  again,  shutting  in  the  tall, 
lithe  form  of  Peart  Falconer. 

Peart  crouched  low  ;  one  long  arm 
reached  and  gradually  turned  down  the 
light.  Slowly  the  old  bedstead  faded 
into  the  wall,  the  stove  into  a  glim- 
mering shadow,  the  gray  head  of  the 
old  man  into  a  faint  blur. 

One  moment  of  suspense  when  Peart 
Falconer's  fingers  crooked  in  the  dark 
and  the  hot  blood  burned  his  ears. 

The  chair  creaked.  He  started  back 
crouching  lower.  The  old  man  was 
talking  in  his  sleep. 

"Mh— mh!  Nervy's  got  her  chillen ; 

I  got  mine.  Shanty's  gitt'n  pretty  old. 
Nervy  '11  make  sheephouse  out  of  it 
likely  ;  come  een  prit'  handy  fer  sheep. 
But  'z  long  'z  ther's  any  puncheons  in 
the  floor  an'  any  good  in  a  writin'. 
Nervy  Falc'ner  ain't  goin'  to  git  Gale 
Tooze's  money.  Poor  little  sis  !  Don' 
nev'  wanta  quit  teachin'  ;  nev'  wanta 
git  married  ;  nev'  wanta  have  no  chil- 
len 'cep'  other  folkses  ?  Mh — mh ! 
Over  a  cradle-knoll,  under  a  lim', 
kerwhollup!  kerwhol — !  kerwh — !  ker 
—  1  k— !" 

The  old  man  snored  again.  Easy 
came  and  went  his  aged  breath.  Little 
with  all  his  dreaming  dreamed  he  that 
before  him  in  the  shadow  of  that  hut 
crouched  one  in  whose  young  life  there 
strove  like  a  demon,  the  spirit  of  evil  ; 
who  but  for  those  few  broken  words  of 
sleep  had  let  his  swift  fingers  execute 
the  crime  that  now  lay  strangling  in 
his  soul. 

The  shanty  was  dark,  but,  as  it  were 
a  guardian  angel  in  the  gloom  over  the 
old  man's  chair.  Peart  Falconer  saw 
the  pale  face  of  Pensee  Vale  with 
its  child-eyes  and  dark  hair.  That 
money  under  the  puncheon  floor  was 
hers.  The  will  was  in  the  old  man's 
pocket.  And  if  all  the  spirits  of  evil 
had  waited  at  his  beck.  Pearl  Falconer 
could  not  have  laid  a  finger  on  either. 
Side  by  side  in  his  guilty  consciousness 
struggled  the  criminal  desire  and  the 
aspiration.     It  was  the    beginning  of 

The  door  opened  letting  in  the  cool 
breath  of  the  dew  ;  a  star  or  two  under 
the  doorjamb  ;  closed  again.  The  old 
man  snored  on  ;  alone. 

To  be  Continued. 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 


A  North-West  Incident. 

HE  wanted  to  be  married. 
His  name  was  Nikolai  Szcheswa 
Pschitzchisoffsni,     which     alone,     one 
would    think,  was    sufficient    to    keep 
him  a  bachelor. 

He  was  a  Galician  ;  the  benevolent 
Canadian  Government,  in  its  inscru- 
table wisdom,  had  seen  fit  to  invite 
him  to  come  over  from  his  country  of 
serfdom  to  the  land  of  freedom  and 
broad  acres. 

And  Nikolai  Szcheswa  Pschitzchis- 
ojfsni  came ;  and  his  path  was  a  path 
of  roses  and  his  entry  like  that  of  a 
conqueror  (for  the  pet  hobby  of  the 
Canadian  Government  at  that  time 
happened  to  be  the  Galician  Immigra- 
tion Scheme), and  Government  officials 
did  pet  him  and  gush  exceedingly. 

But  other  settlers,  who  had  had  the 
misfortune  not  to  be  born  in  Galicia, 
did  not  gush — ^oot  much  ;  but  they 
said  bad  words  and  growled  unpleas- 
aatly  as  they  saw  tracts  of  Canadian 
land  converted  into  Galician  settle- 

Fort  Sturgeon  is  in  Alberta, 
N.W.T.,  Canada:  there  is  a  Galician 
settlement  close  to  the  Fort,  and  to 
this  settlement  Nikolai  came. 

And  there  he  took  up  land  and  did 
his  best  to  become  a  Canadian  by  mix- 
ing only  with  his  own  people,  speak- 
ing'his  own  language,  and  clinging  to 
the  ways  and  customs  of  his  native 
country.  And,  after  his  fashion,  he 
prospered,  for  if  he  made  but  little 
money  he  spent  nothing  ;  so  he  was 
either  hoarding  his  wealth  or  sending 
it  to  friends  in  Galicia — which,  of 
course,  was  very  creditableto  him,  and 

opinion  that  a  clergyman,  being  more 
than  a  man,  must  first  foe  a  manly 
man.  And  the  Reverend  Bertram 
Holcombe  was  a  manly  man,  good  at 
all  sports  and  games  and  never  afraid 
of  cold  and  hardships  while  doing  his 

And  people  from  other  flocks  than 
the  Church  of  England  often  came  to 
him  for  his  ministrations. 

To  the  Reverend  Bertram  Holcombe 
came,  one  day,  Nikolai  Szcheswa 

He  was  dressed,  after  his  wont,  in 
the  usual  uniform  of  the  Galician  peas- 
ant, which  consists  of  a  collection  of 
loose,  shapeless,  more  or  less  dirty- 
looking  garments,  neutral  tinted.  Of 
course,  he  wore  a  greasy  sheepskin 
coat  with  the  wool  inside  ;  and  he 
brought  into  the  Reverend  Bertram's 
house  the  perfume  of  old  Russia. 

Nikolai  had  been  more  than  three 
years  in  Canada,  and  it  was  a  remark- 
able fact  that  he  could  speak  English 
fairly  well ;  so,  after  a  few  moments, 
during  which  he  shuffled  his  feet  and 
twirled    his    high   fur  cap,     he    stam- 

"  Melinka,  Papa,  (little  father),  you 
marry  me?  Eh?  Yes?"  And  he 
smiled  an  expansive  smile. 

"Certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Holcombe. 
"  Have  you  a  marriage  license  ?  Paper 
from  Mr.  Eraser,  you  know,  paper  for 
marrying  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes — paper — I  got  good  paper, 
good    for    marry   anybody !  "    and    he 
drew  from  some  mysterious  recess  in 
his  blouse  a  crumpled  piece  of  paper. 
Reverend  Bertram   unfolded   it 

eminently  satisfactory  to  the  people  of     and  found  to  his    surprise  that  it  was 


Now  there  was  at  the  Fort  a  Church 
of  England  missionary,  who  would 
have  satisfied  Amyas  Leigh. 

Read  your  "Westward  Ho  !  "  and 
you  will  find  that  Amyas  Leigh  was  of 

the  certificate  of  the  death  of  one 
Aniska,  wife  of  Nikolai  Szcheswa 

And  it  was  dated  only  three  months 

"  I  am  afraid  that  this  paper  will  not 


:y  Google 



be  enough,"  said  the  parsoo.  "This 
is  not  a  marriage  license ;  this  is  a  cer- 
tificate of  the  death  of  your  wife." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  politely  but  firmly  per- 
sisted Nikolai.  "That  all  the  same 
good  for  marry.  She  dead,  very  dead  ; 
been  dead  longtime.  I  can  marry  any 

"Now  look  here;  you  don't  un- 
derstand. No  doubt  your  wife  is 
dead ;  but  before  you  can  marry 
again  you  must  get  a  marriage  license 
from  Mr.  Fraser,  a  paper  with  your 
name  and  the  name  of  the  lady  you  are 
going  to  marry  written  upon  it.  You 
pay  Mr.  Fraser  two  dollars  for  the 
paper  and  then  come  here  with  the  lady, 
and  then  we  can  arrange  about  the 

"Ah,  but  I  have  not  woman's  name. 
How. do  then?" 

"  Well,  you  can  find  out  that,  I  sup- 
pose.    Where  is  the  lady  ?  " 

And  then  Nikolai  told  his  artless  lit- 
tle tale,  and  it  ran  thus ; 

At  that  time  there  was,  on  the  way 
from  Galicia  to  Canada,  a  party  of 
Galician  damsels  who  were  destined  to 
become  the  wives  of  the  pioneers  who 
had  come  out  before  them.  This  party 
was  daily  expected  to  arrive  at  Fort 
Sturgeon,  and  the  wity  Nikolai,  think- 
ink  to  get  ahead  of  his  fellows,  had 
struck  upon  the  ingenious  idea  of  hav- 
ing the  best  chance  and  the  first  choice  by 
making  arrangements  for  his  marriage 
before  he  saw  his  bride.  For  he  was 
determined  that  a  bride  he  would  have. 

Then  Mr.  Holcombe  took  infinite 
pains  to  explain  to  him  what  he  would 
have  to  do  before  there  could  be  a  suc- 
cessor to'the  late  Mrs.  Pschitzchisotfsni 
— and,  of  all  the  preliminaries,  the 
choice  of  a  wife  appeared  to  Nikolai  to 
be  the  easiest  and  most  simple. 

A  few  days  later  Nikolai  again  pre- 
sented   himself    before   the     Reverend 

Bertram  Holcombe.  This  time  Nikolai 
was  accompanied  by  a  sturdy,  Galician 
damsel,  a  hard-featured,  strong-limb> 
ed  woman,  evidently  a  worker  and  a 
bearer  of  burdens. 

The  woman  was  dressed  rather  cur- 
iously for  a  bride. 

On  her  head  was  a  coloured  hand- 
kerchief; her  hair  was  uncombed,  dusty 
and  somewhat  straggly ;  over  a  shape- 
less blouse  she  wore  a  long,  greasy, 
sheepskin  coat  which  reached  to  her 
knees  ;  below  this  coat  was  to  be  seen 
a  pair  of  heavy  boots,  into  which  her 
bare  feet  were  thrust. 

And  this  time  Nikolai  had  provided 
himself  with  the  proper  papers,  so  the 
Reverend  Bertram  Holcombe  married 
them  ;  and  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
ceremony  the  newly-wedded  pair  knelt 
and  kissed  the  clergyman's  hand,  much 
to  his  embarrassment. 

Now,  in  the  Northwest  it  is  no  un- 
usual thing  for  the  bridegroom  to  be 
unable  to  pay  a  fee  in  cash  ;  often  it  is 
paid  in  kind — flour,  meat,  or,  perhaps. 

So  the  Reverend  Bertram  was  not 
surprised  to  hear  Nikolai  say:  "Me 
poor  man,  poor  chelevik  ;  Eurena,  my 
woman,  poor  woman;  got  no  money." 

The  Reverend  Bertram  was  used  to 
that  formula,  but  the  next  thing  Niko- 
lai said  was  refreshingly  novel. 

"  Dobre  Papa  (good  father),  give 
me  fifty  cents  and  I  pray  for  you  some- 

And  Nikolai  got  his  fifty  cents  and 
went  off  with  his  bride ;  and  after- 
wards the  Reverend  Bertram  Hol- 
combe missed  a  valuable  meerschaum 

I  think  Nikolai,  the  Galician,  de- 
serves to  succeed  in  this  country  ;  for 
it  is  not  every  man  who  can  secure,  in 
one  day,  fifty  cents,  a  meerschaum 
pipe — and  a  wife. 

Basil  C.  d'Easum, 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 


WE  are  assured  with  a  certain  smug 
complacency  that  the  Samoa 
affair  is  not  likely  to  cause  a  rupture 
between  the  powers  concerned.  A 
ioiot  commission  to  consider  the  situa- 
tion is  on  its  way  to  the  islands  and 
in  nearly  all  these  cases  when  time  is 
gained  the  outlook  becomes  peaceful. 
The  way  is  opened  for  a  graceful  re- 
treat on  someone's  part  and  with  a 
little  of  the  oil  of  compromise  all 
round,  matters  are  got  working  again. 
The  conclusion  will  doubtless  be  that 
the  tripartite  government  of  the  islands 
is  a  failure,  and  we  shall  probably  see  a 
division  of  them  among  the  three 
powers.  Germany  has  unquestionably 
the  largest  interest  in  them,  her  pur- 
chases from  the  islanders  being  $225,- 
000  as  compared  with  $22,000  by  the 
two  other  powers  and  her  sales  to  them 
are  over  one-half  greater  than  the  com- 
bined sales  of  the  other  two.  In  all 
conscience,  therefore,  Germany  has 
excellent  reason  for  her  interest  in  the 

While,  then,  there  is  no  danger  of  a 
war  among  the  great  powers  there  has 
been  already  the  customary  sprinkling 
of  blood  on  the  altars  of  Empire. 
Three  gallant  young  officers  and  a 
number  of  the  unconsidered  Jackies 
have,  in  Kipling's  phrase,  salted  Samoa 
with  their  bones,  and  we  may  be  sure 
that  in  the  slaughter  of  the  enemy  their 
manes  were  appeased  ten  to  one.  We 
read  of  the  ships  riding  along  shore 
belching  out  death  from  their  dread 
sides  on  the  offending  villagers.  I  ven- 
ture to  say  that  most  people  are  begin- 
ning to  make  a  wry  face  as  they  con- 
tinue to  readof  these  battues  of  savages, 
the  red  detailsof  whichhave  been  strung 
through  the  press  for  months  past. 
Beginning  with  Omdurman,  carried  on 
at  Manila  and,  let  us  hope,  wound  up 
at    Apia,  we  have   had  in  our  mind's 

eye  the  spectacle  of  savages  being  torn 
and  minced  by  machine  guns  and 
shrapnel  with  each  morning's  issue  of 
the  papers.  It  may  all  have  been  very 
necessary.  There  is  no  doubt  that  the 
rule  of  the  Khalifa  in  the  Soudan  was 
a  perfect  nightmare  of  horrors,  and  the 
slaughter  needed  to  bring  it  to  an  end 
was  like  the  amputation  that  saves  a 

Indeed,  in  all  the  cases  we  are 
furnished  with  excellent  reasons  why 
the  giant  should  have  his  meal  of  raw 
meat  and  bloody  bones.  At  Manila  the 
hecatomb  is  made  necessary  because 
the  ignorant  savages  cannot  see  that 
the  people  who  are  raking  them  fore 
and  aft  with  grape  and  canister  are  the 
best  friends  they  have  in  the  world. 
They  have  no  excuse  for  their  benight- 
ed condition,  for  President  McKinley's 
commission  has  assured  them  by  pro- 
clamation of  the  philanthropic  spirit 
that  actuates  the  Americans  and  the 
exceeding  regret  that  fills  their  hearts 
at  being  obliged  to  kill  them.  Aguin- 
aldo  and  his  Tagalos  must  necessarily 
be  profoundly  interested  in  these  pro- 
clamations, but  the  first  thing  to  strike 
them  would  be  that  of  the  thing  about 
which  they  fight,  namely,  the  desire  of 
the  natives  to  be  independent  of  foreign 
rule,  there  is  not  one  word.  This  is 
rather  strange,  is  it  not?  It  is  as  if 
two  men  should  have  a  dispute  about 
the  ownership  of  a  horse  and  the  one 
who  had  possession  should  issue  a 
proclamation  to  the  other  telling  him 
how  he  worshipped  justice,  humanity, 
honesty,  and  all  the  other  virtues,  and 
how  he  hated  tyranny  and  oppression, 
but  omitted  to  say  anything  about  the 
horse.  If  in  their  proclamation  the 
Americans  assured  the  much-harassed 
Filipinos  that  the  question  of  their  in- 
dependence would  in  due  time  be  left 
to  their  own  choice  freely   expressed, 


:y  Google 


the   fighting    would,    we    think, 

It  would  require  a  professional  casu- 
ist to  decide  whether  civilization  has 
done  more  harm  than  good  among  sav- 
age people.  The  history  of  the  slave 
trade  in  Africa  transcends  in  horror 
and  deviltry  the  utmost  imagination  of 
man.  The  rule  of  most  African  chiefs 
is  a  continual  carnival  of  fiendish 
cruelty,  the  extirpation  of  which 
would  be  a  gain  to  humanity,  even 
if  whole  tribes  had  to  be  blotted  out 
in  the  process.  But  there  is  another 
side  to  the  shield.  Most  people  have 
read  Capt.  Cook's  voyages,  and  under 
his  guidance  have  re-discovered  those 
island  paradises  in  the  Pacific  to  whose 
shores  his  ships  brought  anything  but 
health  and  peace.  Capt.  Cook  was  a 
humane,  large-hearted  seaman,  and, 
no  doubt,  thought  he  was  according 
the  islanders  a  boon  in  making  them 
known  to  the  white  world.  Many  of 
these  dots  of  territory  in  the  ocean 
could  well  have  figured  as  the  Islands 
of  the  Blest,  with  their  fervent  skies, 
fat  soil,  and  inhabitants  without  a  care, 
and  almost  without  an  ache.  Civiliza- 
tion will  not  be  pleased  with  her  image 
if  she  gathers  it  as  reflected  from  these 
once  happy  isles.  T\ie  fate  of  the 
easy,  indolent,  merry,  thoughtless 
aborigines  is  one  of  the  hideous  of- 
fences that  she  or  her  accompanying 
brood  has  to  answer  for. 

Stevenson,  in  his  Vailima  letters,  tells 
his  friend  Colvin  of  the  tremendous 
struggle  he  is  having  in  clearing  a 
plantation  for  himself — how  he  fought 
with  the  forest,  and  with  its  tropical 
luxuriance  it  grew  almost  as  fast  as  he 
cut  it  down.  How  amused  the  natives 
must  have  been  to  witness  his  exer- 
tions !  They  feasted  daily  on  the  abun- 
dance that  the  wild,  uncultivated  forest 
supplied,  while  hethe  poor  consumptive, 
was  hastening  the  end  with  his  British 
idea  of  having  things  shipshape,  and 
wiling  for  what  nature  in  Samoa  yields 
without  toil.  Could  two  such  races 
ever  be  got  to  understand  each  other  ? 
The  black  man   may   respond  that  the 

white  man  does  not  take  up  the  burden 
but  puts  it  on  him.  When  he  subdues 
the  black  man  he  sets  him  at  work  and 
then  the  wonder  is  that  before  he  had 
the  good  fortune  to  meet  with  his 
white  friend  he  lived  very  much  better 
and  did  not  have  to  work  at  all.  This 
is  in  accordance  with  the  gospel  of 
work,  which  is  the  cardinal  tenet  in 
the  white  man's  creed. 
It  is  enough  to  make  the  forebears 
of  Nicholas  turn  in  their  graves  to  see 
him  writing,  or  having  written,  a  pretty 
little  note  to  the  European  press,  thank- 
ing everybody  for  the  interest  display- 
ed in  the  coming  Peace  Congress  at 
the  Hague.  The  suspicion  that  at- 
taches to  it  has  by  no  means  been  re- 
moved, however.  While  the  prepara- 
tions for  the  Congress  go  on,  Mr.  Geo. 
W.  Steevens,  the  London  MaiCs  cor- 
respondent, who  is  now  in  the  East, 
points  out  that  simultaneously  with  the 
preparations  for  the  Congress  there  is 
a  corresponding  activity  in  pushing 
railway  construction  in  Central  Asia- 
It  will  be  remembered  that  a  book  en- 
titled "The  Russians  at  the  Gates  of 
Herat,"  attracted  a  good  deal  of  atten- 
tion a  few  years  ago.  She  has  not  as 
yet  got  into  the  gates,  but  Mr.  Stee- 
vens declares  the  momentous  moment 
is  at  hand.  He  thinks  that  Russia 
should  be  made  fully  aware  that  com- 
ing to  Herat  means  war,  his  view 
being  that  the  struggle  might  as  well 
come  off  at  once  as  later.  To  the  lay 
mind  the  labyrinthine  wilderness  of 
mountains  that  lie  between  Herat  and 
Quetta  would  seem  to  be  defence 
enough  for  Hindostan.  In  these  de- 
files would  seem  to  be  the  place  to 
withstand  an  invading  army.  To  go 
out  and  meet  him  at  Herat  would  be  to 
commit  the  blunder  that  Gen.  Leslie 
committed  at  Dunbar.  Military  opin- 
ion is  strongly,  nevertheless,  convinced 
of  the  impolicy  of  allowing  Herat  to 
be  seized  by  Russia.  The  meaning  of 
their  declarations  is  that  so  long  as 
Herat  is  in  hands  hostile  to  Russia,  an 
attack  on  India  will  be  next  to  impos- 
sible. It  is  the  only  point  at  which  an 
attack  in  great  force  could  be  prepar- 

:y  Google 


ed.  In  the  hands  of  the  Ru 
it  is  feared  that  it  would  be  a  centre  of 
intrigue  and  agitation  of  grievances  at 
the  various  native  courts  in  India. 
The  position,  indeed,  seems  to  be  that 
England  herself  does  not  want  to  ad- 
vance outside  the  lines  of  the  Hindoo 
Koosh,  and  yet  objects  to  the  occupa- 
tion of  Herat  by  a  possible  enemy. 

Russia's  alleged  designs  on  India 
are  not  the  uppermost  topic  in  the 
British  Isles  just  now.  If  we  are  to 
be  guided  by  the  newspapers  we  must 
conclude  that  what  is  called  the  crisis 
in  the  church  !s  the  engrossing  theme 
of  the  hour.  Under  the  protecting 
ie^s  of  Lord  Halifax,  head  and  front 
of  the  society  known  as  the  English 
Church  Union,  ritualism  has  become 
bold.  A  recent  service  at  St.  Clem- 
ent's, City  Road,  London,  is  thus  de- 
scribed :  "Here  there  is  the  assump- 
tion of  vestments,  there  there  is  re- 
moval ;  here  they  are  held  up,  there 
they  are  let  down  ;  here  the  stole,  the 
book,  the  altar  are  kissed.  The  clergy 
bless  the  incense,  they  cense  the  altar, 
they  cense  the  elements,  they  cense 
each  other,  they  cense  ■  the  congre- 
gation. Mysterious  movements  mark 
the  officiants.  The  celebrant  glides  to 
the  south  of  the  altar,  washes  his  fin- 
gers, then  glides  to  the  centre  ;  then 
suddenly  faces  the  people  with  uplifted 
hands,  and  as  suddenly  reverses  his 
position.  Meanwhile  the  thurifer  is 
busy  censing  the  deacon,  the  sub- 
deacon,  the  servers  or  acolytes,  the 
choir  and  finally  the  people.  Candles 
are  lighted.  But  the  strangest  thing 
of  all  has  yet  to  be  mentioned.  The 
celebrant  turns  round  and  embraces 
the  deacon  by  placing  his  hands  affec- 
tionately on  his  shoulders  ;  the  deacon 
similarly  embraces  the  sub-deacon,  who 
in  turn  embraces  the  server  !" 

Surely  no  honest-minded  person  will 
pretend  that  these  are  not  innovations 
on  the  practice  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land. That  they  are  offensive  to  the 
great  majority  of  Englishmen  both  in 
and  out  of  the  church  will  scarcely  be 

denied.  I  am  convinced  that  the 
spiritual  embracings  noted  above  are 
wholly  foreign  to  the  character  of  Eng- 
lishmen, and  it  is  not  too  sfrong  to  say 
that  they  are  repulsive  to  the  national 
mind.  Auricular  confession  stands  in 
the  same  position.  This  is  the  innova- 
tion of  all  others  that  will  be  most  bit- 
terly opposed,  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
most  obstinately  pressed.  That  it  is 
being  pressed  by  the  innovating  clergy 
may  be  seen  by  the  declaration  that  at 
one  church,  St.  Bartholemew's,  Brigh- 
ton, ten  thousand  confessions  were 
heard  in  a  single  year.  In  the  House 
of  Lords,  in  a  recent  debate,  Lord  Sal- 
isbury said  with  regard  to  it  :  "  It  has 
been  injurious  to  the  moral  independ- 
ence and  virility  of  the  nation  to  an  ex- 
tent to  which  probably  it  has  been 
given  to  no  other  institution  to  affect 
the  character  of  mankind."  It  is  in 
this  aspect  of  it^its  effect  on  a  manly 
character — that  it  must  be  regarded  as 
a  national  disaster  if  the  custom  of 
auricular  confession  again  became 
general  in  England.  If  the  people 
have  to  choose  between  the  confes- 
sional boxes  and  disestablishment,  it 
is  not  hard  to  foretell  on  which  the 
choice  will  fall.  A  married  priesthood 
sitting  in  the  confession  box  would  be 
both  an  abomination  and  a  scandal. 
The  first  County  Council  elections 
have  been  held  in  Ireland.  The  voters 
have  exercised  their  privilege  to  the 
full  by  electing  those  whose  political 
views  pleased  them  best,  aside  from 
every  other  consideration.  In  some 
cases  noble  lords  and  landlords  have 
been  elected  but  in  a  great  many  more 
instances  they  have  been  rejected,  while 
insigniticent  and  unknown  personages 
of  Nationalist  proclivities  have  gone  in 
with  tremendous  majorities.  Thosewho 
expected  any  other  result  must  be  poli- 
tical babes  and  sucklings.  There  is  no 
need  to  be  concerned  about  Ireland. 
It  will  be  found  that  no  very  serious 
national  dangers  flow  from  the  County 
Council,  nor  would  they  flow  from  an 
Irish  Parliament. 

John  A.   E'wan. 

Digitized  byGoO^IC 

ON  the  night  preceding  his  untimely 
death  at  Windsor  Castle,  the  late 
Sir  John  Thompson  delivered  an  ad- 
dress; before  the  members  of  the  Imper- 
ial Institute,  in  which  he  endorsed  the 
proposal  to  lay  an  all-British  cable 
across  the  Pacific  from  Canada  to  Aus- 
tralia, and  stated  that  Canada  was 
ready  to  support  it  by  a  liberal  subsidy. 
That  was  on  December  nth,  1894. 
But  it  was  not  until  April,  1899  that  a 
definite  announcement  was  made  in  the 
Canadian  Parliament,  stating  that  Can- 
ada  was  prepared  to  carry  out  her 
share  in  this  great  work.  Sir  Wilfrid 
Laurier  has  announced  that  Canada 
will  assume  five-eighteenths  of  the  cost, 
which  isestimated  at  $7,500,000,  Sir 
Charles  Tupper,  leader  of  the  Opposi- 
tion, has  stated  on  the  floor  of  the 
House  that  he  is  in  sympathy  with  the 
Government's  decision.  As  the  British 
Government  has  already  signified  that 
it  will  assume  tive-eighteenths,  and  as 
there  is  reasonable  assurance  that  the 
Australian  colonies  will  bear  the  other 
eight-eighteenths,  the  project  is  now 
assured.  That  a  British  cable  across 
the  Pacific  will  be  of  great  benefit  to 
the  colonies  thus  connected,  and  to  in- 
ter-Imperial trade  needs  no  proof  and 
no  argument.  Any  person  interested 
will  find  a  valuable  article  on  the  subject 
on  pp.  74-80  of  Vol.  VII.  of  The  Cana- 
dian MAGAZt\e. 

The  British  people  do  not  yet  seem 
convinced  that  the  British  Government 
is  the  only  one  in  the  world  worthy  of 
the  name,  or  that  if  a  resident  of  the 
British  Isles  must  emigrate,  it  should 
be  to  one  of  the  colonies.  The  British 
emigration  for  the  month  of  March 
was  as  follows  : 

Canada,        .     -     -     -      1,596 
Australia,     .     -     -     -         94S 
The  Cape,    -     -     -     .      1,238 
United  States,       -     -     9,751 
The  British  Government  cannot  pre- 
vent emigration  to  the  United  States, 
but  it  could  do  much  to  discourage  it. 
British    newspapers   have   been    doing 
much    to  aid  the  colonies,    but  these 
figures  prove  that  they  have  not  yet 
fully    moulded    public    opinion    in    the 
British  Isles.      Perhaps  when  both  the 
governing  classes  and   the  journalists 
have  more  fully  realized  that  the  colon- 
ies are  fully  as  civilized  as  the  United 
States,  such  statistics  as  those  given 
above  will  be  unfatniliar. 
The  Winnipeg  Free  Press  of  a  recent 
date  has  the  following  paragraph  : — 

"  The  Canadian  Magatinc  for  Marcl)  con- 
tains several  inleresting  contributions,  bul 
some  or  the  editorial  comment  is  very  absurd. 
The  editor  comments  on  (he  character  of  im- 
migrants to  the  wesi  in  evident  ignorance  of 
ihc  subject.  He  labours  under  Ihe  idea  that 
the  Icelandic  immigrants  are  undesirable,  and 
also  imder  the  delusion  that  the  Dominion 
Government  could  inauifuraie  a  Canadian 
migration  from  Eastern  Canada  lo  the  Went, 
'  to  displace  thai  Irom  the  north  to  the  south.' 
The  Government  has  no  authority  to  do  the 
first,  and  the  second  does  not  exist.  The  mi- 
gration ia  from  the  south  to  (he  north." 

As  an  off-set  to  the  foregoing  para- 
graph, I  would  like  to  quote  from  a 
letter  received  recently  from  a  gentle- 
man who  has  resided  in  the  Northwest 
for  a  number  of  years  : — 

"  There  are  many  '  white  men '  in  the  North- 
west who  thank  you  for  your  remarks  in  the 
March  number  of  Tht  Canadian  Magatint  on 

"For  the  Galicians  are  neither  useful  nor 
ornamental ;  and  why  unsavoury  shiploads  of 
them  should  l>e  dumped  down  on  the  top  of  us 




swear  at. 

"  Perhaps  the  Gahcians  are  men  and  breth- 
ren— but  we  want  more  business  and  less  ^n- 
^er-bread  philanthropy  in  our  Government 
methods  {methods  save  the  niark) !  But  this 
is  a  very  sore  subject  with  us  Westerners." 

Let  us  examine  the  remarks  of  the 
Free  Press.  The  writer  says  the  Ice- 
lander is  a  desirable  immigrant.  Let 
me  ask,  is  he  as  desirable  as  a  young- 
Canadian  from  the  Eastern  Provinces  ? 
No  one  will  answer  in  the  affirmative. 
That  is  my  point.  We  are  losing  our 
young;  Canadian  farmers  and  gaining 
young  Icelanders,  Galicians  and  Douk- 
hobors — a  most  foolish  exchange. 

The  Free  Press  writer  says  that  the 
Government  has  no  authority  to  inaugu- 
rate a  migration  from  Eastern  to  West- 
ern Canada.  Why  then  did  it  build 
the  Canadian  Pacific  Railway  ?  Why 
then  does  it  off'er  a  free  farm  to  any 
settler  from  this  part  of  the  country  ? 
With  all  due  deference  to  the  opinion  of 
the  Free  Press  writer,  I  must  admit  that 
Icannot  agree  with  him.  TheDominion 
Government  has  authority  to  do  any- 
thing not  prohibited  in  the  B.  N.  A. 
Act.  This  is  not  prohibited  by  that 

A^in,  the  ^w^/Vjj  writer  says  that 
the  immigration  is  from  the  United 
States  to  Canada  and  not  from  Canada 
to  the  United  States.  He  is  partially 
right.  Settlers  from  Dakota  and  Min- 
nesota are  moving  across  the  border 
into  Canada.  At  the  same  time,  how- 
ever, young  farmers  from  Ontario  are 
goin^  to  Dakota  and  Minnesota.  Dur- 
ing the  past  six  weeks  hundreds  of 
them  have  gone,  taking  with  them 
their  wives  and  children,  their  imple- 
ments and  stack.  Of  this  I  have 
personal  knowlege.  Every  week  scores 
of  French  Canadians  and  people  from 
the  Maritime  Provinces  are  crossing 
the  border.  It  is  lamentable,  but  it 
is  true. 


A  despatch  from  Ottawa,  dated  April 
3rd,  states  that  Mr.  Sifton  has  arranged 
for  five  or  six  hundred  Hungarian 
families  to  be  brought  to  Canada  dur- 
ing 1899.     Mr.  Sifton  is  doing  clever 

work,  but  his  policy  is  a  mistaken  one. 
The  immigrants  he  is  securing  are  not 
so  desirable  as  those  from  the  British 
Isles.  They  are  rude,  barbarous  and 
uncultured.  We  do  not  want  slaves ;  we 
want  men.  A  despatch  from  Winni- 
peg dated  April  4th,  says  that  a  Gaiician 
entered  the  Police  Court  in  that  city 
and  asked  to  be  permitted  to  bring  an 
action  against  another  Gaiician  whose 
wife  he  had  bought  and  who  now  re- 
fused to  deliver  her.  Is  this  man's 
vote  to  ofF-set  mine  or  that  of  the  intel- 
ligent writer  on  the  Winnipeg  Frve 
Press  ?  Is  Canada  to  become  as  rude, 
as  uncultured,  as  hckte,  as  heterogen- 
eous, as  careless  of  law  and  order  and 
good  citizenship  as  the  United  States  ? 
Are  we  to  have  like  political  disorders  P 

Canada's  immigration  policy  has 
been  wrong  for  a  number  of  years.  It 
was  wrong  before  Mr.  Sifton  became 
Minister  of  the  Interior,  therefore  he  is 
not  wholly  to  blame.  The  previous 
Ministers  of  the  Crown,  his  present 
colleagues,  and  the  members  of  Parlia- 
ment are  just  as  responsible  as  the 
Hon.  Mr.  Sifton.  It  lies  with  all  these 
gfentlemen  and  with  the  public  to  see 
that  this  mistaken  policy  is  rectified. 
Bring  in  Icelanders,  Galicians,  Douk- 
hobors,  Hungarians,  and  all  the  other 
riff-raff  of  the  world  if  you  will  ;  but  at 
the  same  time  let  all  possible  means  be 
adopted  to  keep  the  young  Canadian 
in  Canada. 


Last  month  I  pointed  out  that  the 
Federal  and  Provincial  Governments 
had  gone  far  enough  in  bonusing  rail- 
ways and  that  it  was  time  to  recast 
their  policies.  It  was  shown  that  two 
hundred  and  fifty  millions  of  dollars,  or 
an  amount  equal  to  our  present  Federal 
debt,  had  been  given  away  to  railway 
promotors  since  Confederation. 

Announcements  from  the  various 
Provincial  centres  and  from  Ottawa 
show  that  the  work  of  bonusing  new 
railroad  companies  is  still  proceeding 
merrily.  The  task  of  making  more 
railway  millionaires — almost  the  only 
kind  we  have — is  being  pursued  most 


:y  Google 



Name  of  Road.  Distance.  Cask. 

Ont&rio,  Hudson's  Bay  and  We^lern 340  milex.       $      480,000 

Haliburton,  Whitnej'  and  MatlawH  * 30     "  90,000 

Ontario  and  Rainy  River aSo     "  i,i2o,ooot 

Central  Ontario zi     "  63,000 

Central  Counties  Railway 14     "  18,000 

Ontnrio,  Belmont  Northern 7     "  12,400 

S9»  miles.         $1,803,400 

*  A  further  grant  for  an  exlenniDn  of  Ibis  railway  may  be  BjipAcud  lo  follow. 
tOftbu  ■mount  KigiDKi  had  been  voted  preriouily. 



Under  a  plea  of  developing  new  dis- 
tricts, the  Province  of  Ontario  has  in- 
curred a  fresh  liability  in  the  way  of 
railroad  bonuses  of  nearly  two  millions 
of  dollars,  and  this  in  a  session  which 
was  opened  with  an  announcement 
from  the  Provincial  Treasurer  that  the 
revenue  of  the  Province  was  not  equal 
to  the  expenditure  and  that  some  new- 
forms  of  taxation  would  be  introduced. 
The  bills  for  the  payment  of  $1,803,400 
in  cash  and  for  the  handing  over  of 
1,350,000  acres  of  laad  were  approved. 

The  land  grants  to  two  railways  (see 
table)  is  5,000  acres  per  mile.  Now  if 
this  land  is  worth  anythingit  should  not 
be  given  away.  If  it  is  not  worth 
anything,  it  is  ridiculous  to  vote  a  cash 
bonus  to  a  railroad  through  it.  But 
then  the  principle  of  the  thing  is  ridicu- 
lous. It  would  never  be  followed  by  a 
set  of  legislators  who  made  any  at- 
tempt to  master  the  duties  and  responsi- 
bilities of  their  position.  What  the 
members  of  the  Ontario  Government 
are  doing  is  following  precedent ;  and 
it  is  a  lamentable  fact  that  in  both 
Provincial  and  Federal  politics  of  the 
last  thirty  years  there  is  abundant  pre- 
cedent for  this  sort  of  conduct. 

No  doubt  these  legislators  are  anx- 
ious to  do  somethingto  make  the  Prov- 
ince more  populous,  more  prosperous, 
more  wealthy.  They  are  persuaded  by 
interested  parties  that  they  will  be 
hailed  by  the  public  as  giants  of  wis- 

dom. With  a  vague  hope  in  their  hearts 
that  the  thing  will  come  out  all  right 
in  the  end,  they  yield  to  the  lobbyists 
in  order  to  oblige  their  friends  and  give 
the  Province  more  railroads.  The  situ- 
ation would  be  humorous  were  it  not  so 
tragic  from  a  taxpayer's  point  of  view, 

A  newspaper  writer,  sometime  ago, 
said  that  the  railway  promoter  would 
now  have  to  move  on  to  British  Colum- 
bia, for  all  the  other  provinces  had  no 
need  for  more  railroads.  Apparently 
that  writer  overlooked  northern  On- 


Perhaps,  before  this  reaches  the  read- 
ers of  the  Magazine,  the  Dominion 
Government  railway  grants  for  1899 
will  be  announced.  They  will  be  excel- 
lent reading.  The  present  Government 
promised  economy  when  it  came  into 
power  in  1896,  but  it  is  fully  as  prodi- 
gal of  the  country's  resources  as  was 
its  predecessor. 

In  one  department  only  has  the 
promise  of  economy  been  kept.  The 
Post  Office  Revenue  has  increased  by 
$375,000.  Many  new  post  offices  were 
opened  up,  nearly  two  million  more 
letters  were  carried,  yet  the  expenditure 
was  about  $160,000  less  than  in  1897. 
This  increase  in  revenue  and  this  de- 
crease in  expenditure  have  reduced  the 
deficit  in  the  department  to  $47,602. 
If  thanks  are  due  to  any  person  for 
this,  it  is  to  the  Postmaster-General, 
not  to  the  Liberal  cabinet. 

John  A.    Cooper. 

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WE  have  no  Canadian,  apparently,  who  can  g;ive  us  a  romantic  history  of  our 
country.  Parkman  accomplished  something ;  but  no  Macaulay  hai 
arisen  to  complete  and  extend  the  work.  Roberts'  one-volume  history  comes 
near  to  the  mark  in  some  chapters.  Bourinot  and  Kingsford  have  little  style 
and  less  ima^nation.  Calkin's  short  history  is  much  better  than  Clement's,  but 
that  is  not  extravag'ant  praise.  The  Macaulay  of  Canadian  history  is  undis- 
covered as  yet      Goldwin  Smith  could  give  us  something  unique  if  he  would. 

But  if  we  have  no  romantic  history,  we  have  many  historical  romances,  and 
for  a  time  these  may  suffice.  Major  Richardson's  "Wacousta,"  Marinette's 
"  Francois  d'Bienville,"  Gaspe's  "  Les  Anciens  Canadiens,"  Mrs.  Catherwood's 
"  Romance  of  Dollard,"  etc.,  Conao  Doyle's  *'  Refugees,"  Barr's  "  In  the  Midst 
of  Alarms."  Kirby's  "The  Golden  Dog,"  Gilbert  Parker's  numerous  tales,  Wil- 
liam McLennan's  two  or  three  stories,  Charles  G.  D.  Roberts'  "  A  Forge  in 
the  Forest,"  and  "  A  Sister  to  Evangeline,"  and  many  minor  works  by  such 
writers  as  Seranus,  Fideiis  and  Blanche  Macdonnell—all  these  have  touched  the 
romantic  in  our  history.  Worthy  as  are  all  these  works,  let  us  hope  that  they 
are  but  the  forerunners  of  even  greater  works  in  romance  and  in  history. 

The  two  latest  additions  to  our  historical  romances  are  "  Marguerite  de  Rob- 
erval,"  by  T.  G.  Marquis,*'  and  "  The  Span  o'  Life,"  by  William  McLennan  and 
J.  N.  Mcllwraith.*  The  former  comes  almost  un recommended,  unheralded. 
The  latter  has  the  approval  of  "  Harper's  Magazine,"  where  it  ran  serially,  in 
addition  to  the  excellent  reputation  which  Mr.  McLennan  had  fairly  won  with 
his  previous  books.  In  spite  of  this  it  is  difficult  to  say  which  book  is  worthy 
of  most  admiration. 

Marguerite  de  Roberval  is  a  niece  of  the  famous  Robert  Sieur  de  Roberval, 
who  attempted,  in  conjunction  with  Jacques  Cartier,  to  plant  the  first  French 
settlements  in  North  America.  This  storj'  opens  in  St.  Malo  in  1539,  with  a 
meeting  ofjacques  Cartier,  Claude  de  Pontbriand  and  Charles  de  la  Pommeraye. 
Claude  is  in  love  with  Marguerite,  and  Pommeraye  has  just  had  a  duel  with 
Roberval  arising  out  of  an  insult  offered  by  the  former  to  Marguerite.  Finally 
the  four  men  join  to  organize  an  expedition  to  Canada,  which  eventually  sails  in 
two  divisions.  Cartier  and  Pommeraye  have  charge  of  one  ;  Roberval  the 
other.  Claude  has  declared  his  love  for  Marguerite,  and  Roberval  has  sternly 
forbade  him  pressing  his  suit.  As  Marguerite  is  to  accompany  Roberval,  Claude 
steals  on  board  the  ship,  and  when  discovered  is  made  a  prisoner  by  Roberval. 
Marguerite,  two  female  companions,  and  Claude  are  after  many  troubles 
deserted  on  a  barren  island  in  the  St.  Lawrence,  where  their  sufferings  during 
two  years  are  intense.  The  final  downfall  of  the  brutal  Roberval  and  the  fate 
of  the  other  persons  make  a  thrilling  tragedy,  which  Mr.  Marquis  has 
handled  with  skill.  Pommeraye  is  the  most  noble  figure  in  the  story,  and  must 
win  every  reader's  admiration  by  his  gallantry  and  the  steadfastness  of  his  pas- 
sion for  a  woman  whom  fate  had  decreed  should  never  be  his.  Marguerite 
might  have  been  more  thoroughly  described  ;  but  her  bravery,  strength  of  mind 

'Bolli  books  are  published  in  Canada  by  Ihe  Copp,  CUrk  Company,  Toronto. 



and  siacerity  of  purpose  mark  her  as  an  extraordinary  woman.  The  story  is 
never  complicated,  and  moves  rapidly  from  one  point  to  another.  There  is 
scarcely  a  dull  pag«,  and  one  cannot  avoid  teelingf  that  Mr.  Marquis  is  an  accom- 
plished story-teller. 

"The  Span  o'  Life,"  a  tale  of  Louisbourg  and  Quebec,  derives  its  title  from 
the  stanza  : 

The  span  o'  life's  nae  lang  eneugh, 

Nor  deep  eneugh  the  sea, 
Nor  braid  eneugti  this  weary  warld 
Tu  pan  my  love  frae  me. 

Hugh  Maxwell,  of  Kirkconnel,  is  hiding  in  London,  because  of  his  connection 
with  the  misdirected  Stuart  affair  of  1745.  Here  he  meets  and  falls  in  love  with 
Margaret  Nairn.  Soon  afterwards,  Hugh  discovers  a  woman  whom  as  a  g^rl 
he  had  secretly  married,  but  who  now  refuses  to  live  with  him.  Under  the  cir* 
cumstances  he  feels  that  he  cannot  press  his  suit  with  Margaret ;  he,  therefore, 
enlists  again  under  the  French  king,  and  is  sent  to  Louisbourg.  He  has  never 
openly  declared  his  love  for  Margaret,  but  each  realizes  a  strong  attachment. 
After  some  years  Margaret  comes  to  Canada  to  seek  the  man  she  loves,  and  her 
adventures  as  related  by  herself  are  almost  wonderful.  Eventually  she  meets 
her  husband  during  the  second  siege  of  Quebec,  when  the  French  were  endeav- 
ouring to  regain  what  in  the  previous  year  they  had  lost  on  the  Plains  of 

"  The  story  is  divided  into  three  parts.  The  first  and  third  are  told  in  the  first 
person  by  Hugh  Maxwell,  and  the  second  gives  an  account  of  Margaret's  wan- 
derings in  her  own  words.  This  surmounts  some  difficulties  in  the  ordinary 
"  first  person  narrative,"  and  enables  the  authors  to  introduce  a  broader  range 
of  scenes  and  events.  The  book  is  gracefully  written  and  carefully  polished. 
Because  of  its  excellence  in  these  virtues  it  at  times  seems  rather  fiat.  The 
rugged  vivacious  descriptions  which  give  strength  to  Mr.  Marquis'  novel,  are 
almost  wanting,  yet  there  is  no  doubt  that  for  art  and  purely  literary  style  "  The 
Span  o'  Life"  is  far  above  "  Marguerite  de  Roberval."  The  latter  possesses  a 
simplicity  and  straightforwardness  in  plot  and  action  which  makes  it  a  more 
readable  story  from  the  commoner's  point  of  view.  But  both  novels  are  worthy 
of  a  place  on  the  first  shelf  of  Canadian  books. 

Miss  Lily  Dougall,  a  novelist  of  whom  Canada  has  no  reason  to  be  ashamed, 
has  given  us  a  new  volume,  a  story  with  a  purpose.  ' '  The  Mormon  Prophet  " 
is  intended  to  teach,  and  is  thus  quite  distinct  in  character  from  those  novels 
which  aim  only  at  describing  life  as  it  really  is,  without  discussion  of  any  kind- 
Its  purpose  is  set  forth  in  the  preface  as  follows  : 

"  In  Htudying  Ihe  rise  of  this  curious  sect  I  have  discovered  that  certain  misconceptions 
ciinceniint;  it  are  deeply  rooted  in  the  mind.s  of  many  of  the  more  earnest  of  the  well-wishers  Co 
society.  Some  otherwise  well-informed  people  hold  Monnonism  to  be  synonymous  with  poly- 
gamy, believe  that  Brig'hiim  Young-  was  its  chief  prophet,  and  are  convinced  thiit  the  miseries 
of  oppressed  women,  and  tyrannies  exercised  over  helpless  subjects  of  both  sexes,  are  the  only 
themes  that  the  religion  of  more  than  two  hundred  thousand  people  can  afford.  When  I 
have  ventured  in  conversation  to  deny  these  somewhat  fabulous  notions,  it  has  been  eomeslly 
suggested  to  me  that  to  write  on  so  false  a  religion  in  other  than  a  polemic  spirit  would  tend 
to  the  undermining  of  civic  life. 

"  \\\  spite  of  these  warnings,  and  allhouKh  I  know  it  lo  be  a  most  dangerous  commodily,  1 
have  ventured  to  offer  the  simple  truth,  as  far  as  1  have  been  able  to  discern  it." 

"The  Mermaid,"  "The  Zeitgeist," 

:y  Google 



of  the  "purpose"  of  the  story,  it  will  be  found  decidedly 
j;,  much  more  interesting  than  might  be  expected.  Joseph  Smith, 
his  new  Bible  of  golden  plates,  his  wife  and  baby,  Susannah  the  doubter,  and 
all  the  other  unique  American  characters,  catch  and  hold  the  reader's  interest 
from  the  first  chapter  onwards.  Moreover,  Miss  Dougall  knows  how  to  gaia 
the  reader's  sympathy  for  her  characters — a  point  at  which  many  writers  fail. 



It  would  be  hard  to  conceive  a  greater  contrast  than  there  is  between  the  two 
volumes  of  short  stories  published  recently  by  William  Briggs.  Henry  Cecil 
Walsh  is  fanciful,  wordy,  diffuse,  and  very  seldom  dramatic.  W.  A.  Fraser  is 
crisp,  intense,  concentrated,  picturesque,  and  always  dramatic.  Mr.  Walsh 
describes  all  the  little  details  which  are  of  importance,  and  then  all  those  which 
are  of  no  importance.  If  Mr.  Fraser  condescends  to  chronicle  a  detail,  he  gives 
it  a  significance  which  raises  it  above  the  ordinary  level.  Mr,  Walsh  stretches 
out  his  stories  through  thousands  of  words,  and  you  read  on  and  on,  only  to 
find  that  when  he  has  finished  there  is  no  story.  Mr.  Fraser's  tales  are  active 
from  the  start,  event  succeeds  event,  his  personages  are  always  moving,  and 
the  expected  does  not  always  happen. 

"The  Eye  of  a  God,"  which  is  the  title  of  Mr.  Fraser's  volume,  contains  six 
stories,  four  from  far-away  India,  and  two  from  the  Canadian  Northwest.  Mr. 
Fraser  has  lived  in  these  districts,  and  he  speaks  as  one  having  knowledge- 
Take  this  extract  from  the  speech  of  a  Medicine  Man  : 

"  Then  they  drove  him  forth  in  anger,  and  he  stood  aK-ain  where  the  trail  forks.  He 
turned  to  the  ieft,  and  journeyed  aiortfi  until  the  smell  of  Che  sweet-graas  and  the  sagre  smote 
upon  his  nostrils,  and  he  knew  (hat  he  was  i-oining;  to  the  Happy  Hunting-Ground  of  his  own 
Iie«>ple,  the  Indians. 

"  Like  the  noise  of  the  wings  of  the  great  birds  that  make  the  thunder  was  the  sound  of  the 
hoofs  of  the  BuflaJo,  that  were  even  as  the  sands  of  Ibe  river,  as  the  spirits  of  the  Happy 
Hunting-Ground  ran  them  in  the  ohasn." 

Here  we  have  the  sweet-grass,  the  sage,  the  fork  In  the  trail,  the  thunder- 
birds,  the  happy  hunting-ground- — all  these  crowded  pictures  of  a  life  which  must 
b«  seen  to  be  understood.  That  is  Mr.  Fraser's  secret.  He  is  a  .story-teller, 
but  he  i^  more.  He  is  an  artist  and  a  traveller.  He  has  seen.  Many  of  us 
are  travellers,  but  not  all  of  us  have  seen.  But  thpre  is  no  need  of  praising 
this  new  volume,  as  five  or  six  of  Mr.  Fraser's  tales  have  already  appeared  in 
Tks  Canadian  Magazine  ;  moreover,  his  stories  have  won  him  a  leading  place 
among  the  writers  of  to-day  in  both  New  York  and  London. 

As  for  Mr.  Walsh,  his  attempt  is  a  good  one.  He  has  lived  a  narrow  life, 
but  he  has  seen  the  French  Canadian.  He  knows  Quebec  and  the  Quebeoers 
very  well  indeed.  That  he  does  not  describe  them  better  in  "Bonhomme: 
French  Canadian  Stories  and  Sketches,"  is  because  he  lacks  force  and  humour 
— and  without  these  two,  few  men  have  won  fame  in  any  calling.  However, 
there  have  been  many  worse  stories  published  than  "A  Crown  Courier,"  and 
"The  Onion  in  the  Wheel-Rut,"  two  of  this  collection,  and  there  have  been 
much  worse  illustrations  than  those  by  Mr.  Brymner. 


S,  R.  Crockett's  stories  are  usually  cheerful,  but  " 
ronto:  Morang)  is  a  decided  exception.     It  is  gruesom  _ 

revolting,    Gilles  de  Retz,  a  more  central  figure  in  the  story  than  the  Black  Doug- 
las, is  a  hideous  Frenchman  of  the  fifteenth  century,  whose  chief  occupation  is 

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the  sacrifice  of  innocent  children,  youths  and  maidens  to  the  Devil,  and  the 
drinking  of  their  blood,  in  the  vain  hope  that  he  may  live  forever.  In  the  last 
fifty  pages  of  the  book  his  chamel-house  is  discovered,  and  we  are  blandly  in- 
formed that  "  these  vague  forms,  mostly  charred  like  half-burned  wood,  these 
scraps  of  white  bone,  these  little  crushed  skulls,  were  all  that  remained  of  the 
innocent  children  who,  in  the  freshness  of  their  youth  and  beauty,  had  been 
seduced  into  the  fatal  castle  of  Machecoul. "  There  are  twenty  sacks  full  of 
these  bones,  and  twenty  more  waiting  to  be  filled.  This  is  followed  up  by  the 
almost  completed  sacrifice  of  two  Scotch  maidens  and  one  Scotch  lad — ^who  ar; 
rescued  only  after  the  reader  had  been  fully  harrowed  by  the  preparations  made 
for  their  intended  torture. 

S.  R.  Crockett  has  taken  the  name  of  the  Black  Douglas  in  vain.  The  first 
half  of  the  story  is  occupied  with  a  history  of  his  life  and  his  death,  and  there 
the  tale  should  have  ended.  What  follows  is  no  part  of  the  tragedy  in  which 
he  played  so  magniiicent  a  part.  When  the  hero  of  a  story  dies,  is  married, 
or  performs  the  highest  duties  of  which  he  is  capable,  his  story  is  closed.  To 
afterwards  use  his  good  name  under  which  to  describe  one  of  the  vilest  of  human 
beings  is  not  fair  to  the  hero  or  to  his  admirers. 

Should  any  person  prone  to  read  of  sensational  occurrences  or  soul-moving 
horrors  and  atrocities,  ask  me  if  \  should  recommend  "The  Black  Douglas," 
my  answer  would  be  in  the  affirmative.  To  the  man  or  woman  desirous  of 
reading  only  what  is  pleasant,  artistic  or  elevating,  I  would  say  "Shun  it  as  you 
would  an  immoral  Story  or  a  fourth-rate  play."  Every  event  may  be  justified  by 
history,  but  their  description  cannot  always  be  justified  by  common  sense.  The 
latter  half  of  the  book  could  only  be  equalled  by  the  description  in  a  New  York  daily 
newspaper  of  an  unusually  revolting  murder.  We  have  enough  of  the  vulgar 
and  debasing  in  our  present  life,  without  being  called  upon  to  revel  in  the  vices 
and  viciousness  of  past  centuries. 



It  is  a  relief  to  turn  occasionally  from  the  omnipresent  love-story,  and  from 
the  omniscient  manufacturer  of  possible  and  impossible  romances  to  a  thorough- 
ly wholesome  book  dealing  with  sane  adventure.  William  Briggs  has  done  well 
to  give  us  a  Canadian  edition  of  "  The  Cruise  of  the  Cachalot,"  a  story  of  a 
trip  around  the  world  after  sperm  whales.  The  book,  during  the  past  few 
months,  has  attracted  much  attention  in  England  and  R udy a rd  Kipling  has  writ- 
ten the  following  letter  to  his  fellow  author  : 
DSAR  Mr.  Bullen  : 

"  It  is  immense — there  is  no  other  word.  1  never  read  anything  thai  equals  it  in  its  deep- 
sea  wonder  and  mystery  ;  nor  do  1  think  that  any  book  before  has  so  completely  covered  (he 
whole  business  of  whale  fishing,  and  at  the  same  time  i^ix'en  such  real  and  new  sea  picturea. 
You  have  thrown  away  material  enough  to  make  five  books,  and  I  congretuUte  you  most 
heartily.     It's  a  new  world  that  you  have  open'^d  the  door  to. 

\'ery  sincerely,  RUDVARD  KlPLlNG. 

Rot(in);dean,  Nov.  ii,  1898. 

This  story  of  the  methods  and  dangers  of  the  South  Sea  whale  fishers  is  de- 
cidedly interesting,  and  worthy  of  the  generous  praise  which  Mr.  Kipling  has 



Mr.  Dooley's  talks  in  book  form  are  not  so  attractive  as  in  an  occasional  arti- 
cle in  a  newspaper.      To  get  him  all  at  once  is  to  become  satiated  with  him. 



True,  he  is  clever,  witty  and  wise — but  with  all  these  qualities,  he  is  digestible 
only  in  small  doses.  Mr.  F.  P.  Dunne,  a  Chicago  journalist,  has  made  a  decided 
discovery  ia  his  new  style  of  humour.  It  was  a  timely  discovery.  Mark  Tw^n, 
Bill  Nye,  Artemus  Ward,  and  even  our  awn  Sam  Slick,  had  been  relegated  to 
the  back  shelves  of  public  favour.  Mr.  Dunne  not  only  used  his  American- Irish 
friend  to  great  advantag'e  in  producing  humour,  but  he  infused  into  the  genial 
g^eatleman's  remarks  a  satire  and  a  sagacity  which  won  public  approval.  He 
spoke  the  people's  thoughts  with  a  poiatedness,  a  directness  and  a  humorous  ' 
turn  which  made  these  thoughts  doubly  acceptable  to  the  people  who  were 
thinking  them.  They  laughed  and  said  "  Right  you  are,  Mr.  Dooley,"  and  if 
Mr.  Dooley  had  not  been  right,  even  his  wit  and  humour  would  not  have  made 
him  famous.  Whether  Mr.  Dunne's  volume  will  be  classed  as  "  literature  "  in 
the  blue  books,  does  not  really  matter ;  the  world  of  readers  laughs,  is  happy 
— and  forgets. 

"The  Anglo-American  Magazine  "  for  April  (Vol.  1.,  No.  3),  contains  "  Prom 
The  Great  Lakes  to  the  Ocean,"  by  Captain  Gillmore,  of  Ottawa,  "An  Open 
Door  with  Canada,"  by  Erastus  Wiman,  "The  Yukon  Territory,"  by  Thomas 
Crahan,  and  much  other  interesting  material.  Capt.  Gillmore's  article  deals 
with  the  proposed  canal  between  Georgian  Bay  and  the  Ottawa,  a  project 
which  he  approves  with  much  enthusiasm. 

"The  Godhood  of  Man"  is  the  title  of  a  book  by  a  Chicago  man  who  does 
not  approve  the  present  religious  ideas  of  the  English-speaking  Christians,  because 
they  lead  to  inequalities  and  give  too  much  importance  to  church  and  state. 

' '  Light  Amid  the  Shadows  "  is  tlie  title  of  a  small  volume  of  devotional  verse 
by  Annie  Clarke,  a  Canadian.  Some  of  these  are  bright,  and  all  exhibit  a  high 
degree  of  religious  spirituality.     (Toronto  :  The  Revell  Co.) 

"  Susannah,"  by  Mary  E.  Mann  (Unwin's  Colonial  Library),  is  a  lengthy 
story  of  considerable  merit.  Susannah's  father  dies  penniless,  and  his  daugh- 
ters must  live  with  their  relatives.  Susannah -has  a  difficult  time  with  a  charity- 
mad  London  widow,  and  later  on  as  a  maid-of-all-work  in  a  lodging  house. 
She  bears  her  hard  luck  with  equanimity,  and  it  serves  but  to  make  her  strong. 
Of  course,  the  knight  appears  in  due  time,  and  everbody  is  happy, 

Mr.  David  Boyle  is  an  antiquarian  who  has  done  much  for  Canadian  history. 
He  has  just  presented  to  the  Minister  of  Education  for  Ontario — at  the  latter's 
expense — an  exhaustive  report  on  the  Iroquois  Pagans  and  Paganism  of  the 
Grand  River  Reserve.  Mr.  Boyle  deals  very  generously  with  his  subject.  Rites, 
dances,  myths,  legends,  festivals,  music,  customs,  and  other  matters  connected 
with  the  archseology  and  ethnology  of  this  once  famous  race  of  redmen,  are 
carefully  discussed.  Of  course,  the  report  will  be  read  by  only  about  a  dozen 
people,  but  that  does  not  lessen  its  bulk  or  its  value.  (Published  by  the 
Ontario  Government.) 

Any  person  interested  in  municipal  reform  will  find  the  New  York  Quarterly, 
"  Municipal  Affairs,"  a  very  valuable  work  of  reference.  It  is  published  at  51 
William  Street. 

On  June  ist  Armour  &  Co.,  of  Chicago,  close  their  thousand  dollar  compe- 
tition for  the  best  finished  coloured  design  (single  or  serial),  for  a  ic^ooart  cal- 
endar. This  competition  has  attracted  much  attention  among  Canadian  artists, 
and  several  are  sending  designs.  The  effect  of  the  modem  style  of  advertising 
upon  art  is  something  which  cannot  be  overlooked,  .\dvertisers  are  certainly 
making  the  artists'  calling  much  more  lucrative. 


:y  Google 


"  The  Trjul  of  the  Sword,"  by  Gilbert  Parker,  has  been  translated  into  French 
by  N.  Le  Vasseu^,  and  is  published  by  Frank  Carrel,   Quebec,  at    fifty  cents. 

The  New  Brunswick  Historical  Society,  ot  which  S.  D.  Scott,  of  St.  John, 
is  President,  and  Jonas  Howe,  Corresponding'  Secretary,  has  published  the 
fourth  number  of  its  Collections.  The  material  included  is  very  valuable  indeed, 
and  reflects  much  credit  on  the  Society.  Dr.  Ganong's  work  in  this  connection 
is  worthy  of  special  mention. 

Mr.  Henry  J.  Morgan  has  bought  back  the  publishing  rights  of  "  The 
Canadian  Parliamentary  Companion,"  which  he  founded  in  1862.  Mr,  Morgan 
will  soon  ^t  out  a  new  issue  which,  it  is  said,  will  be  a  decided  improvement 
on  any  previous  annual  effort. 

The  Longman  Colonial  Ubrary  contains  nearly  all  of  H.  Rider  Haggard's 
novels.  The  latest  issue  is  "  Swallow,"  a  tale  of  the  Boer  and  Kaffir,  particu- 
larly of  the  great  Trek  of  1836.  It  is  an  historical  novel  with  plenty  of  killing 
and  dying. 

The  Macmillan  Sixpenny  Series  has  been  increased  by  a  selection  of  the  poems 
of  Alfred,  Lord  Tennyson.  The  selections  include  "  Locksley  Hall"  and 
"  In  Memoriam."  This  is  a  splendid  volume  to  slip  into  the  summer  holiday 


To  the  Editor  of  the  Canadian  Magazine. 

Sir, — Permit  me  to  invite  your  at- 
tention to  a  palpable  error  in  Mr,  J. 
Taylor  Wood's  article  on  Halifax  in 
the  April  number  of  the  Canadian 
Magazine.  It  was  not  Lord  £orn- 
watlis,  as  therein  stated,  who  com- 
manded the  expedition  sent  to  Che- 
bucto  Bay  by  the  English  Government 
in  1749,  and  which  resulted  In  the 
foundation  of  the  city  of  Halifax,  but 
another  member  of  that  well-known 
family,  namely.  Colonel  (afterwards 
Lieu  ten  ant- Genera  I)  the  Honourable 
Edward  Comwallis.  He  became  the 
first  Governor  of  the  Colony,  and  was 
afterwards  Governor  of  Gibraltar.  He 
died  in  1776  while  holding  the  last- 
named  appointment.  I  might  further 
say  that  the  8th  of  June  was  for  a  long 
time  regarded  as  the  date  of  the  founda- 
tion of  Halifax,  and  on  that  day  in  1849 
the  centenary  of  the  foundation  of  the 
city  was  celebrated.  According  to  Mc- 
Cord,  however  ("Handbook  of  Cana- 

Ottawa,  April  8,  [899. 

dian  Dates,")  the  correctness  of  the 
date  came  to  be  questioned,  and,  in 
1862,  correspondence  between  the 
Celebration  Committee  and  the  Com- 
missioner of  Public  Records  (the  late 
Dr.  Akins]  led  to  the  production  by 
him  of  a  letter  written  by  Colonel 
Comwallis,  in  which  he  stated  that  he 
had  arrived  in  Halifax  Harbour  on  the 
2ist  of  June.  A  proclamation  by  the 
Governor  then  appeared  in  the  Roya\ 
Gazette,  appointing  the  21st  of  June, 
1862,  as  the  anniversary  of  the  settle- 
ment of  Halifax,  and  on  that  day  it  has 
ever  since  been  observed.  But,  al- 
though Comwallis  did  arrive  in  Che- 
bucto  Bay  on  the  aist  of  June,  it  was 
only  with  his  suite,  on  board  the  sloop 
of  war  Sphinx.  The  first  of  the  trans- 
port.s  carrying  the  settlers  did  not  ap- 
pear until  the  17th,  and  it  was  not  be- 
fore the  30th  of  June  that  the  set- 
tlers landed,  and  that  Halifax  was 

Henry  J.  Morgan. 



SCOTCH     farmer,    celebrated   i 

neig'hbourhood  for  his  im- 
mense strength  and  skill  in  athletic  ex- 
ercises, very  frequently  had  the  plea- 
sure of  contending'  with  people  who 
came  to  try  theirstrength  against  him. 
Lord  D.,  a  great  pugilistic  amateur, 
went  from  London  on  purpose  to  fight 
the  athletic  Scot.  The  latter  was 
working  in  an  enclosure  at  a  little  dis- 
tance from  his  house  when  the  noble 
lord  arrived.  His  lordship  tied  his 
horse  to  a  tree  and  addressed  the  farm- 
er. "  Friend,  1  have  heard  marvellous 
reports  of  your  skill,  and  have  come  a 
long  way  to  see  which  of  us  two  is  the 
better  wrestler."  The  Scotchman, 
without  answering,  seized  the  noble- 
man, pitched  him  over  the  fence,  and 
then  set  about  working  again.  When 
Lord  D.  got  up:  "Well,"  said  the 
farmer,  "have  you  anything  to  say  to 
me?"  "No,"  replied  his  lordship, 
"  but  perhaps  you'd  be  good  enough 
to  throw  me  my  horse." 

The  story  goes  that  when  Li  Hung 
Chang  was  in  England  an  admirer  sent 
him  a  specially  fine  bull-terrier,  in- 
tended to  watch  over  the  veteran 
statesman's  declining  years.  The  fol- 
lowing letter — so  the  story  goes — was 
received    in    acknowledgment :     "  My 

Dear ,- — While  tendering  my  best 

thanks  for  sending  me  your  dog,  I  beg 
to  say  that,  as  for  myself,  I  have  long 
since  given  up  the  practice  of  eating 
dog's  flesh;  but  my  attendants  to  whom 
I  handed  the  creature,  tell  me  they 
never  tasted  anything  so  nice.  Your 
devoted  L." 


A  delightful  instance  of  the  Prince  of 
Wales'   geniality  occurred   some   few 

years  ago  when  he  was  visiting  the 
Earl  of  Warwick  at  Easton  Hall,  Duo- 
mow,  Essex.  He  was  driving  through 
the  county  to  make  a  call  when,  at  a 
small  village,  Wimbish  I  believe  it  was 
called,  either  one  of  the  horses  cast  a 
shoe  or  some  damage  was  done  to  the 
Prince's  equipage — at  any  rate,  a  halt 
was  necessary  while  repairs  were  effect- 
ed. The  Prince  was  strolling  up  and 
down  when  a  rustic  came  up  to  him 
and,  touching  his  hat,  said:  "They 
tell  us,  sir,  as  you  be  the  Prince  of 
Wales?"  H.R.  H.  affably  repliedthat 
such  was  the  case.  His  visitor,  on 
receiving  an  affirmative  to  his  question, 
continued:  "Then,  sir,  a  lot  of  us, 
me  and  my  mates,  would  like  to  drink 
your  Royal  'Ighness's  good  elth." 
The  hint  was  taken  and  the  petitioner 
was  awarded  a  half-a-crown  for  the 
purpose,  the  Prince,  as  he  gave  the 
money,  laughing  heartily. 

Father  O'Leary,  a  well-known  Ca- 
tholic priest'  and  wit,  was  on  very 
friendly  terms  with  his  neighbour,  the 
Church  of  L  ngland  vicar.  They  met 
on  the  road  one  day,  when  the  vicar 
said  excitedly  :  "Oh!  Father  O'Leary, 
have  you  heard  the  awful  news?" 
"  No,"  said  the  priest,  "  what  is  it  at 
all?"  "Something  awful,"  says  the 
vicar.  "  The  bottom  has  fallen  out  of 
purgatory,  and  all  the  Catholics  have 
tumbled  into  hell."  "Oh,  dear,  oh, 
dear,"  says  Father  O'Leary,  "what  a 
crushing  the  poor  Protestants  must 
have  got." 


A  man  strolled  into  a  fashionable 
church  before  the  service  began.  The 
sexton  followed  him  up,  and,  tapping 


:y  Google 



Namib — I'm  jusl  Ihat  angry  1  could  cry. 
Edith — Why,  what's  the  matter,  dear? 

Hahib — That  horrid  beast,  Riply,  who  skipped  my  dance  the  other  night,  ' 
rig;ht  behind  me  af  the  matinee  to-day,  and  I  only  had  my  walking  hat  on. 

him  on  the  shoulder  and  pointing  to  a 
small  cur  that  had  rolloY/ed  him  into 
the  sacred  edifice,  said  : 

"  Dogs  are  not  admitted." 

"That's  not  my  dog,"  replied  the 

"  But  he  follows  you," 
,    "Well,  so  do  you." 

The  sexton  growled  and  immediately 
removed  the  dog  with  unnecessary  vio- 



A  few  days  ago  a  recruit  was  taken 
to  be  sworn  in  by  the  magistrate. 
Everything  was  going  on  swimmingly 

till  the  magistrate  asked  the  man  the 
following  question  :  "  Have  you  ever 
been  in  prison  ?" 

At  this  the  man  looked  startled,  but 
quickly  recovering  himself,  he  blurted 
out,  "  No,  sir,  I  have  never  been  in 
gaol,  but  I  don't  mind  doing  a  few 
days  if  you  think  it  necessary." 

Child  to  nursemaid  :   "  I  say,  Jane, 
the  difference  between   English 


:  and  Australia 
Jane  :   "  Why,  o'course  Master  Reg- 
gie, English  mutton's  made  of  sheep 
and  Orstralian  of  'orse." 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 



ifeation  tlw  Canaduh  Maoaiihs.) 

A  Quiet  Home 

Can  be  secured  in  the  very 
centre  of  the  business  part  of 
New  York  by  staying  at  the 

St  Denis  Hotel 

opposite  Grace  Church.  To 
Canadians  this  is  probably  the 
best  known  Hotel  in  the  city. 


Brtndmy  and  tlth  SU^ 
EuropeuPlui.  NET  YOBK. 

Most  Rubbers  ape  Uncomfoptable. 

[t  is  no  wonder  that  rubbers  which  are  not  the  same  shape 
as  the  boot  should  be  uncomfortable.  It  costs  money  to  em- 
ploy skilled  pattern  makers,  but  the  result  is  a  satisfactory  fit. 

Each  year  the  Granby  Rubber  Co.  add  new  patterns  to  fit 
all  the  latest  shoe  shapes,  therefore 



They  are  honestly  made  of  Pure  Rubber. 
S     Thin,  Light,  Elastic,  Durable. 
5     Extra  thick  at  ball  and  heel.  ^     n   C\H>Qli 




niB  MOST  Ntrntmoin 



Distinguished  everywhere  for 
Delicacy  of  Flavour,  Superior 
Quality,  and  Nutritive  Proper- 
ties. '  Specialty  grateful  and 
comforting  to  the  nervous  and 

~  dyspeptic.  Sold  only  in  j;-lb. 
tins,  labelled  JAMES  EPPS  & 
CO.,  lU^  HomcBopathio  Chem- 
ists, London. 






pKKrm.  NtniHuhM.  Ratom,  and  Enricha  the  tlkir 
more  elfcctuaLly  than  any  ather  prepantiDn.  PrevHita 
HalcCnm  ami  Scurf,  and  u  mlto  uld  In  a  Golden  CobHir 
for  Faj  or  Grey  Hair. 


Praducei  Soft,  Fair,  DeUcau  5km.  ntmnr*  PncUn. 
Tan,  Sunburn.  Rednni.  and  Rnugfanaa.  and  inparta  a 
Radiant  Beauty  la  Ihe  UHnpleuoa  iwd  ■  Softneaa  and 
Delkacy  to  (be  oanda  and  Armi. 




Acid  Phosphate. 

The  most  effective  remedy 
for  relieving-  Dyspepsia, 
Nervousness,  Exhaustion. 

and  all  diseases  arising*  from 
imperfect  digestion  and  de- 
rangement of  the  nervous 

Taken  before  retiring 
Induces  refreshing  sleep. 

Por  Sale  by  DnigEtots. 



Equally  importatit.    Both 
sectjred  fay  the 

Make  sure,  however,  that 
it  is  ptit  in  by  a  reliable 

GEOItGE  W.  aEED  &  CO., 
""""^S:?-^;*"^"'  Moitlreal. 




NE,    1899 



By  Gilbert  Parker. 

"liryNDHAM  BIMBASHI'S  career 
*V  in  Egfypt  had  been  a  series  of 
mistakes.  In  the  first  place  he  was 
opiniooated ;  in  the  second  place  he 
never  seemed  to  have  any  luck  ;  and, 
worst  of  all,  he  had  a  little  habit  of 
doing  grave  things  on  his  own  light- 
some  responsibility.  This  last  quality 
was  natural  to  him,  but  he  added  to  it 
a  supreme  contempt  for  the  native  mind 
and  an  unhealthy  scorn  of  the  native 
official.  He  never  seemed'  to  realize 
that,  after  all,  the  native  knows,  in  one 
sure  way,  a  good  deal  more  about  his 
country  than  a  foreigner  possibly  can  ; 
also,  that,  however  corrupt  in  character 
Mahommed  may  be,  he  is  in  touch  with 
the  mind  of  his  countrymen.  But 
Major  Wyndham,  which  is  to  say 
Wyodham  Bimbashi,  was  convinced  of 
the  omniscience  of  the  British  mind,  of 
its  universal  superiority.  He  said  as 
much  to  Vemet,  the  French  count  in 
the  cooRdence  of  the  Khedive,  who  had 
^ot  him  his  billet  at  a  time  when  there 
were  scarcely  any  English  ofiicials  in 
E&ypt-  Vemet  chafed,  but  he  had 
been  Wyn dh am 's  guest  in  Sussex  years 
before,  and  he  contented  himself  with 
a  satirical  warning.  In  this  he  de- 
served credit,  for  Wyndham's  manner, 
with  his  unimaginative,  bullet-headed 
cocksureoess,  his  yawning  indifference, 
his  UDpitying  endurance  of  foreigners' 
ofMnions,    was    provoking   if    nothing 

Bored  as  he  generally  was,  Wyndham 
had  ideas  of  reform — in  the  army,  in 
the  state,  everywhere.  With  all  his 
Eaglishness  he  was  for  doing  what  is 
characteristic  of  the  Frenchman ;  trans- 
planting schemes  of  home  government 
and  administration  bodily  into  colonies 
and  spheres  of  influence.  He  had  not 
that  rare  quality  often  found  among 
Englishmen,  of  working  the  native  up 
through  his  own  medium,  as  it  were, 
through  his  own  customs  and  predis- 
positions, to  the  soundness  of  Western 
administrative  methods.  Therefore  in 
due  time  he  made  some  bad  mistakes, 
which,  in  natural  sequence,  were  fol- 
lowed by  dangerous  mistakes.  By  vir- 
tue of  certain  high-handed  actions  he 
was  the  cause  of  several  riots  in  native 
villages,  and  he  had  himself  been  at- 
tacked at  more  than  one  village  as  he 
rode  between  the  fields  of  sugar-cane. 
On  these  occasions  he  had  behaved 
very  well — certainly  no  one  could  pos- 
sibly doubt  his  bravery  ;  but  that  was 
a  small  offset  to  the  fact  that  his  want 
of  tact  and  his  overbearing  manner  had 
been  the  means  of  turning  the  Haden- 
dowa  Arabs  loose  upon  the  country, 
raiding  and  killing. 

But  he  could  not,  or  would  not,  see 
his  own  vain  stupidity.  The  climax 
came  in  a  foolish  sortie  against  the 
Hadendowas.  In  that  unauthorized 
melee,  in  covert  disobedience  to  a  gen- 
eral order  not  to  attack,  unless  at  ad- 

:y  Google 


vantag^e — for  the  Gippies  under  him 
were  raw  levies — his  troop  was  dimi- 
nished by  half,  and  cut  off  from  the 
Nile  by  a  flank  movement  of  the 
Hadendowas.  He  was  obliged  to  re- 
treat and  take  refuge  in  the  well- 
fortiRed  and  walled  house  of  a  friendly 
sheikh,  which  had  previously  been  a 
Coptic  monastery. 

Here,  at  last,  the  taith  came  home 
to  Wyndham  Bimbashi.  He  realized 
that  though  in  his  six  years'  residence 
in  the  land  he  had  acquired  a  command 
of  Arabic  equal  to  that  of  others  who 
had  been  in  the  coun:ry  twice  that 
time,  he  had  acquired  little  else.  He 
awaked  to  the  fact  that  in  his  cocksure 
schemes  for  the  civil  and  military  life 
of  Egypt  there  was  not  one  element  of 
sound  sense ;  that  he  had  been  all  along 
an  egregious  failure.  It  did  not  come 
home  to  him  with  clear  accurate  con- 
viction— his  brain  was  not  a  first-rate 
medium  for  illumination ;  but  the  facts 
struck  him  now  with  a  blind  sort  of 
force ;  and  he  accepted  the  blank  sen- 
sation of  failure.  Also,  he  read  in  the 
faces  of  those  round  htm  an  alien  spirit, 
a  chasm  of  black  misunderstanding, 
which  his  knowledge  of  Arabic  could 
never  bridge  over. 

Here  he  was,  shut  up  with  Gippies 
who  had  no  real  faith  in  him,  in  the 
house  of  a  sheikh  whose  servants  would 
cut  his  throat  on  no  provocation  at  all ; 
and  not  an  eighth  of  a  mile  away  was 
a  horde  of  Arabs:  a  circle  of  death 
through  which  it  was  impossible  to 
break  with  the  men  in  his  command. 
They  must  all  die  here  if  they  were  not 

The  nearest  garrison  was  at  Berber, 
fiftymilesaway.  Five  hundred  menwere 
stationed  there.  Now  that  his  cup  of 
mistakes  was  full,  Wyndham  Btmbashi 
would  willingly  have  made  the  attempt 
to  carry  word  to  the  garrison  there. 
But  he  had  no  right  to  leave  his  post. 
He  called  for  a  volunteer.  No  man 
replied.  Panic  was  upon  the  Gippies. 
Though  Wyndham  Bimbashl's  heart 
sickened  within  him,  his  lips  did  not 
frame  a  word  of  reproach ;  but  a  blush 
of  shame  came  into  his  face,  and  crept 
up  to  his  eyes,  dimming  them.      For 

there  flashed  through  his  mind  what 
men  at  home  would  think  of  him  when 
this  thing,  such  an  end  to  his  whole 
career,  was  known.  As  he  stood  still, 
upright  and  confounded,  someone 
touched  his  arm. 

It  was  Hassan,  his  Soudanese  ser- 
vant. Hassan  was  the  one  person  in 
Egypt  who  thoroughly  believed  in 
Wyndham  Bimbashi.  Wyndham  was 
as  a  god  to  Hassan,  though  this  same 
god  had  given  him  the  taste  of  a  belt 
more  than  once.  Hassan  had  not  re- 
seated the  belt,  though  once,  in  a 
moment  of  affectionate  confidence,  he 
had  said  to  Wyndham  that  when 
Wyndham  got  old  and  died  he  would 
be  the  servant  of  an  American  or  a 
missionary,  "  who  no  whack  Mahom- 

It  was  Hassan  that  now  volunteered 
to  carry  word  to  the  garrison  at  Berber. 

"  If  I  no  carry,  you  whack  me  with 
the  belt.  Pasha,"  said  Hassan,  whose 
logic  and  reason  were  like  his  mas- 
ter's, neither  better  nor  worse. 

"  If  you  do  you  shall  have  fifty 
pounds  and — the  missionary,"  answered 
Wyndham  Bimbashi,  his  eyes  still 
cloudy  and  his  voice  thick ;  for  it 
touched  him  in  a  tender  nerve  that 
this  one  Soudanese  boy  should  believe 
in  him  and  do  for  him  what  he  would 
give  much  to  do  for  the  men  under 
him.  For  his  own  life  he  did  not  care, 
his  confusion  and  shame  were  so 

He  watched  Hassan  steal  out  into 
the  white  brilliance  of  the  night. 

"  Mind  you  keep  a  whole  skin,  Has- 
san," he  said  as  the  slim  lad,  with  the 
white  teeth,  oily  hair,  and  legs  like 
ivory,  stole  along  the  wall,  to  drop 
presently  on  his  belly,  and  make  for 
some  palm  trees  a  hundred  yards 
away.  The  minutes  went  by  insiteoce, 
an  hour  went  by,  the  whole  night  went 
by  ;  Hassan  had  got  beyond  the  circle 
of  trenchant  steel. 

They  must  now  abide  Hassan's  fate; 
but  another  peril  was  upon  them. 
There  was  not  a  goolah  of  water  with- 
in the  walls. 

It  was  the  time  of  low  Nile,  when 
all  the  land  is  baked  like  a  crust  of 

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bread,  when  the  creaking  of  the 
shadoofs  and  the  singing  croak  of  the 
sakkia  are  heard  all  the  long  night  like 
untiring  crickets  with  the  throats  of 
frogs.  It  was  the  time  succeeding  the 
khamseen,  when  the  skin  dries  like 
slaked  lime  and  the  face  is  forever 
powdered  with  dust;  and  the  felaheen, 
in  the  slavery  of  superstition,  strain 
their  eyes  day  and  night  for  the  Sacred 
■  Drop,  which  tells  that  the  flood  is 
flowing  fast    from   the    hills    of  Abys- 

ItwasliketheEgyptian,  thatnothing 
should  be  said  to  Wyndham  BimbashI 
about  the  dearth  of  water  until  it  was 
all  gone.  The  house  of  the  sheikh, 
and  its  garden  where  were  a  pool  and 
a  fountain,  were  supplied  from  the 
great  Persian  wheel  at  the  water  side. 
On  this  particular  sakkia  had  been 
wont  to  sit  all  day  a  patient  fellah, 
driving  the  blindfolded  buffaloes  in 
their  turn.  It  was  like  the  patient  fel- 
lah, when  the  Arabs  in  pursuit  of 
Wyndham  and  his  Gippies  suddenly 
cut  in  between  him  and  the  house,  to 
deliver  himself  over  to  the  conqueror, 
with  his  hand  upon  his  head,  in  sign 
of  obedience.  It  was  also  like  the 
l^ntle  Egyptian  that  he  eagerly 
showed  the  Hadendowas  how  the 
water  could  be  cut  off  from  the  house 
by  dropping  one  of  the  sluice  gates  ; 
irhile,  opening  another,  all  the  land 
around  the  Arab  quarters  might  be 
well  watered,  the  birkets  filled,  and 
the  bersim  kept  green  for  their  horses 
and  camels.  Which  was  how  it  was 
that  Wyndham  Bimbashi  and  his  Gip- 
pies, and  the  sheikh  and  his  house- 
hold faced  the  fact  the  morning  after 
Hassan  left,  that  there  was  not  a  goo- 
lah  of  water  for  a  hundred  burning 
throats.  Wyndham  understood  now 
why  it  was  that  the  Hadendowas  sat 
down  and  waited,  that  torture  might 
be  added  to  the  on-coming  death  of 
the  Englishman,  his  natives  and  the 
'  ■  friendlies. " 

All  that  day  terror  and  a  ghastly 
hate  hung  like  a  miasma  over  the  be- 
sieged house  and  garden.  Fifty  eyes 
hungered  for  the  blood  of  Wyndham 
Bimbashi ;  net  because  he  was  Wynd- 

ham BimbashI,  but  because  the  heathen 
in  these  men  cried  out  for  sacrifice ; 
and  what  so  agreeable  a  sacrifice  as 
the  Englishman  who  had  led  them  into 
this  disaster  and  would  die  so  well — 
had  they  ever  seen  an  Englishman 
who  did  not  die  well ! 

Wyndham  Bimbashi  was  quiet  and 
watchful,  and  he  cudgelled  his  bullet- 
head,  and  looked  down  his  long  nose 
in  meditation  ail  the  day,  while  his 
tongue  became  dry  and  thick,  and  his 
throat  seemed  to  crack  like  roasting 
leather.  At  length  he  worked  the 
problem  out ;  then  he  took  action. 

He  summoned  his  troop  before  him, 
and  said  briefly  : 

"  Men,  we  must  have  water.  The 
question  is,  who  is  going  to  steal  out 
to  the  sakkia  to-night  to  shut  the  one 
sluice  and  open  the  other?  " 

No  one  replied.  No  one  understood 
quite  what  Wyndham  meant.  Shut- 
ing  one  sluice  and  opening  the  other 
did  not  seem  to  meet  the  situation. 
There  was  the  danger  of  getting  to  the 
sakkia,  but  there  was  also  an  after. 
Would  it  be  possible  to  shut  one  sluice 
and  open  the  other  without  the  man  at 
the  wheel  knowing  ?  Suppose  you 
killed  the  man  at  the  wheel — what 
then  ! 

The  Gippies  and  the  friendlies 
scowled,  but  did  not  speak.  TheBim- 
bashi  was  responsible  for  all :  he  was 
an  Englishman,  let  him  get  water  for 
them,  or  die  like  the  rest  of  them,  per- 
haps before  them  ! 

Wyndham  Bimbashi  could  not  travel 
the  sinuosities  of  their  minds,  and  ifhe 
could  have  done  so  it  would  not  have 
affected  his  purposes.  When  no  man 
replied,  he  simply  said  : 

"All  right,  men,  you  shall  have 
water  before  morning.  Try  and  hold 
out  till  then."    And  he  dismissed  them. 

For  a  long  time  he  walked  up  and 
down  the  garden  of  straggling  limes, 
apparently  listless,  and  smoking  hard. 
He  reckoned  in  his  mind  how  long  it 
would  take  Hassan  to  get  to  Berber, 
and  how  long  it  would  take  for  relief 
to  come.  He  was  fond  of  his  pipe, 
and  he  smoked  now  as  if  it  was  the 
thing  he  most  enjoyed  in   the  world. 

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He  held  the  bowl  in  the  hollow  of  his 
hand  almost  tenderly.  He  seemed  un- 
conscious of  the  scowling  looks  around 
him.  At  last  he  sat  dawn  on  the  led^ 
of  the  rude  fountain,  with  his  face  to> 
wards  the  Gippies  and  the  Arabs 
squatted  on  the  ground,  some  playing; 
mankalah,  others  sucking  the  dry  lime 
leaves,  some  smoking  apathetically, 
and  others  still  gasping  and  staring. 

One  man  with  the  flicker  of  insanity 
in  his  eyes  suddenly  ran  forward  and 
threw  himself  on  the  ground  before 
Wyndham  Bimbashi. 

"In  the  name  of  God  the  Compas- 
sionate, the  Mercititl — water  ! "  he 
cried.  "  Water — I  am  dying,  efFendi, 
whom  God  preserve ! " 

"Nile  water  is  sweet;  you  shall 
drink  it  before  morning,  Mahommed," 
answered  Wyndham  quietly.  ' '  God 
will  preserve  your  life  till  the  Nile 
water  cool  your  throat." 

"  Before  dawn,  O  effendi  ?  "  gasped 
the  Arab. 

"  Before  dawn,  by  the  mercy  of 
God,"  answered  Wyndham;  and  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life  he  had  a  burst 
of  imagination.  The  Orient  had  touch- 
ed him  at  last. 

"  Is  not  the  song  of  the  sakkia  in 
thine  ear,  Mahommed  : 

Turn,  O  Sakkia,  to  the  ri^t  and  turn  to  tlie 

The  Nile  floweth  by  nig^ht  and  the  balassea 

are  filled  al  dawn— 
The   maid  of  the  villagre  shall  bear  to  thy  bed 

the  dewy  grey  goolah  at  dawn  : 
Turn,  O  Sakkia  I" 

Wyndham  Bimbashi  was  learning  at 
last  the  way  to  the  native  mind. 

The  man  rose  from  his  knees.  A 
vision  of  his  home  in  the  Mirkaz  of 
Minieh  passed  before  him.  He  stretch- 
ed out  his  hands  and  sang  in  the  vibrat- 
ing  monotone  of  his  people  : 

"Turn,  O  Sakkia,  In  the  rig^ht,  and  turn  10  the 

Who  will  lake  care  of  me  if  my  father  dien  t 
Who  will  give  me  water   lo  drink,  and  Ihe 

cucumber  vine  at  my  door  : 
Turn,  O  Sakkia  t " 

Then  he  crept  back  again  to  the  wall 
of  the  house  where  he  huddled  between 
a  Berberine  playing  a  darabukkeh  and 

a  man  of  Fayoum  who  chanted  the 
Fatihah  from  the  Koran. 

Wyndham  looked  at  them  all  and 
pondered.  "If  the  devils  out  there 
would  only  attack  us  ! "  he  said 
between  his  teeth,  "  or  if  we  could 
only  attack  them  !"  he  added,  and  he 
nervously  hastened  his  footsteps  ;  for 
to  him  this  inaction  was  terrible. 
"  They'd  forget  their  thirst  if  they  were 
fighting,"  he  muttered,  and  then  he. 
frowned ;  for  the  groans  of  the  horses 
behind  the  house  came  to  his  ear.  In 
desperation  he  went  inside  and  climbed 
to  the  roof,  where  he  could  see  the 
circle  of  the  enemy. 

It  was  no  use.  They  were  three  to 
one,  and  his  Gippies  were  demoraliz- 
ed. It  would  be  a  fine  bit  of  pluck  to 
try  and  cut  his  way  through  the  Hadeo- 
dowas  to  the  Nile,  but  how  many  would 
reach  it? 

No,  he  had  made  his  full  measure  of 
mistakes,  he  would  not  add  to  the  list. 
If  Hassan  got  through  to  Berber  his 
Gippies  here  would  be  relieved  ;  and 
there  would  be  no  more  blood  od  his 
head.  Relieved — and  when  they  were 
relieved,  what  of  himself,  Wyndham 
Bimbashi?  He  knew  what  men  would 
say  in  Cairo,  what  men  would  say  at 
the  War  Office  in  London  town,  at ' '  the 
Rag,"  everywhere  !  He  could  not  look 
his  future  in  the  face.  He  felt  that 
every  man  in  Egypt,  save  himself,  had 
known  all  along  that  he  was  a  com- 
plete failure.  It  did  not  matter  while 
he  himself  was  not  conscious  of  it,  but 
now  that  the  armour-plate  of  conceit 
protecting  his  honest  mind  had  been 
torn  away  on  the  reefs  of  foolish  deeds, 
it  mattered  everything.  For  when  his 
conceit  was  peeled  away,  there  was 
left  a  crimson  cuticle  of  the  Wyndham 
pride — of  the  Wyndham  Bimbashi 
pride  !  Certainly  he  could  not  attack 
the  Hadendowas ;  he  had  had  his 
eternal  fill  of  sorties  1 

And  he  could  not  wait  for  the  relief 
party,  for  his  Gippies  and  the  frieodlies 
were  famishing,  dying  of  thirst.  He 
prayed  for  night.  How  slowly  the 
minutes,  the  hours,  passed;  and  hour 
bright  was  the  moon  when  it  rose  ; 
brighter  even  than  it  was  when  Hassan 




crept  out  to  steal  through   the  Arab 

At  midnight  Wyndham  Bimbashi 
stole  softly  out  of  a  gate  in  the  garden 
wall,  and,  like  Hassan,  dropping  to  the 
ground,  crept  towards  a  patch  of  maize 
lying  between  the  house  and  the  river. 
He  was  dressed  like  a  fellah,  with  the 
long  blue  yelek,  a  poor  wool  fez,  and 
round  the  fez  wa^  a  white  cloth,  as  it 
were  to  protect  his  mouth  from  the 
night  air,  after  the  manner  of  the  peas- 

The  fires  of  the  enemy  were  dying 
down,  and  only  here  and  there  Arabs 
gossiped  or  drank  coffee  by  the  embers. 
At  last  Wyndham  was  able  to  drop  into 
the  narrow  channel,  now  dry,  through 
which,  when  the  sluice  was  open  and 
the  sakkia  turned,  the  water  flowed  to 
the  house.  All  went  well  till  he  was 
within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  wheel, 
though  now  and  ag^n  he  could  hear 
sentries  snoring  or  talking  just  above 
him.  Suddenly  he  heard  breathing  an 
arm's  length  before  him,  then  a  figure 
raised  itself  and  a  head  turned  towards 
him.  The  Arab  had  been  asleep,  but 
his  hand  ran  to  his  knife  by  instinct — 
too  late,  for  Wyndham's  fingers  were 
at  his  throat,  and  he  had  neither  time 
nor  chance  to  cry  "Allah"  before  the 
breath  left  him  ! 

Wyndham  crept  on.  The  sound  of 
the  sakkia  was  in  bis  ears,  the  long, 
creaking,  crying  song  filling  the  night 
And  now  there  rose  the  Song  of  the 
Sakkia  from  the  man  at  the  wheel : 

"  Tarn,  O  Sakkia,  to  the  ri^ht,  and  turn  to  the 

Xhe  heron   feeds  by  the  water  aide — shall  1 

starve  in  my  onion  field  t 
Shall  the  Lord  of  the  World  withhold  his  tears 

that  waler  the  land  ; 
Turn,  O  Sakkia  I  " 

....  The  cold  white  stars,  the 
deep  cold  blue  the  far-off  Libyan  hills 
in  a  gold  and  opal  glow,  the  smell  of 
the  desert,  the  deep  swish  of  the  Nile, 
the  Song  of  the  Sakkia  !    .    .    .    . 

Wyndham  Bimbashi's  heart  beat 
faster,  his  blood  flowed  quicker,  he 
strangled  a  sigh  in  his  breast.  Here, 
with  death  on  every  hand,  with  imme- 
diate danger  and  a  fearful  peril  before 
him,    out   of  the    smell    of  the   desert 

and  the  ghostly  glow  of  the  Libyan 
hills  there  came  a  memory — a  memory 
of  a  mistake  he  had  made  years  before 
with  a  woman.  She  had  never  for- 
given him  for  the  mistake — he  knew 
that  now.  He  knew  that  no  woman 
could  ever  forgive  the  blunder  he  had 
made — not  a  blunder  of  love  but  a 
blunder  of  self-will  and  an  unmanly, 
unmannerly  conceit.  It  had  nearly 
wrecked  her  life ;  and  he  only  realized 
it  now,  in  the  moment  of  clear-seeing 
which  comes  to  everyone  once  in  this 
life.  Well,  it  was  something  to  have 
seen  the  mistake  at  last! 

He  was  near  the  sluice-gate  now.  It 
was  impossible  to  open  it  without  the 
fellah  on  the  water-wheel  seeing  him. 

There  was  another  way.  He  crept 
close  and  closer  to  the  wheel.  The 
breath  of  the  blindfolded  buffalo  was 
in  his  face,  he  drew  himself  up  lightly 
and  quickly  beside  the  buffalo — he  was 
making  no  blunder  nowl  The  fellah 
still  sang: 

"Turn,  O  Sakkia,  turn  to  the  ri|ht,  and  turn 

to  the  1.  ft: 
For  (he  chargers  that  ride  the  bersim  waits .  ," 

The  great  jars  on  the  wheel  emptied 
their  splashes  of  water  into  the  trough 
for  the  channel. 

Suddenly  Wyndham  Bimbashi  leapt 
from  behind  the  buffalo  upon  the  fellah 
and  smothered  his  head  and  mouth  in 
the  white  cloth  he  had  brought.  There 
was  a  moment's  struggle,  then,  as  the 
wheel  went  slower  and  slower,  and  the 
patient  buffalo  stopped,  Wyndham  Bim- 
bashi dropped  the  gagged  but  living 
fellah  into  a  trench  by  the  sakkia,  and 
calling  to  the  buffalo,  slid  over  swiftly, 
opened  the  sluice-gate  of  the  channel 
which  fed  the  house,  and  closed  that 
leading  to  the  Arab  encampment. 

Then  he  sat  down  where  the  fellah 
had  sat,  and  the  sakkia  droned  its 
mystic  music  over  the  river,  and  the 
desert  and  the  plain.  But  the  buffalo 
moved  slowly^the  fellah's  song  had 
been  a  spur  to  its  travel,  as  the  camel- 
driver's  song  is  to  the  caravan  in  the 
waste  of  sands.  Wyndham  Bimbashi 
hesitated  an  instant,  then  as  the  first 
trickle  of  water  entered  the  garden  of 
the  house  where  his  Gippies   and  the 


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friendlies  were,  his   voice  rose  in  the 
Sonf?  of  the  Sakkia: 

"  Turn,  O  Sal(Jf'ia,  turn  lo  the  right,  and  turn 

to  the  left : 
Who  will  take  care  of  me,  if  my  father  dies  ! 
Who  will  give  me   water  to  drink,  and  the 

cucumber  vine  al  my  door  : 
Turn.  O  Sakkia  !  ' 

If  he  had  but  one  hour  longer  there 
would  be  enough  water  for  men  and 
horses  for  days — twenty  jars  of  water 
pouring— pouring  all  the  time  ! 

Now  and  again  a  figure  came  to- 
wards the  wheel,  but  not  close  enough 
to  see  that  the  one  sluice-gate  had  been 
shut  and  the  other  opened.  One  hour 
passed,  an  hour  and  a  half,  and  then 
the  end  came. 

The  gagged  fellah  had  managed  to 
free  his  mouth,  and  though  his  feet 
were  bound  also  and  he  could  not  loose 
them  at  once,  he  gave  a  loud  call  for 
help.  From  dying  fires  here  and  there 
Arab  sentries  sprang  to-  their  feet  with 
rifles  and  lances. 

Wyndham  Bambashi's  work  was 
done.  He  leapt  from  the  sakkia,  and 
ran  towards  the  house.  Shot  after 
shot  was  fired  at  him,  lances  were 
thrown,  and  once  an  Arab  barred  his 
way  suddenly.  He  pistolled  him  and 
ran  on.  A  lance  caught  him  in  the 
left  arm.  He  tore  it  out  and  pushed 
forward.  Stooping  once,  he  caught 
up  an  Arab  sword  from  the  ground. 
When  he  was  within  fifty  yards  of  the 
house,  four  Hade  n  do  was  intercepted 
him.  He  slashed  through,  then  turned 
with   his   pistol   and  fired   as   he   ran 

quickly  towards  the  now  open  gate. 
He  was  within  ten  yards  of  it,  and  had 
fired  his  last  shot,  when  a  bullet 
crashed  through  his  jaw. 

A  dozen  Gippies  ran  out,  dragged 
him  in,  and  closed  the  gate. 

The  last  thing  Wyndham  Bimbashi 
did  before  he  died  in  the  grey  of  dawn 
— and  this  is  told  of  him  by  the  Gippies 
themselves — was  to  cough  up  the  bul- 
let from  his  throat,  and  spit  it  out  up- 
on the  ground.  The  Gippies  thought 
it  a  miraculous  feat  and  that  he  had 
done  it  in  scorn  of  the  Hadendowas. 

Before  another  sunrise  and  sunset 
had  come,  Wyndham  Btmbashi's  men 
were  relieved  by  the  garrison  of  Ber- 
ber, after  a  hard  fight. 

There  are  Englishmen  in  Egypt  who 
still  speak  slightingly  of  Wyndham 
Bimbashi;  but  the  British  officer  who 
buried  him  hushed  a  gossiping  dinner- 
party a  few  months  ago  in  Cairo  by 
saying : 

"  Lightly  they'll  speak  of  the  spirit  that's  gone. 
And  o'er  his  cold  ashes  upbraid  him  ; 
But  little  he'll  reck  if  they  let  him  sleep  on 
In  Ihe  grave  where  the  Gippies  have  laid  him." 

And  he  did  not  apologize  for  para- 
phrasing the  famous  ballad.  He  has 
shamed  Hg^ypt  at  last  into  a  sort  of  ad- 
miration of  Wyndham  Bimbashi,  to 
the  deep  satisfaction  of  Hassan  the 
Soudanese  boy,  who  received  his  fifty 
pounds  and  to  this  day  wears  the  belt 
that  once  kept  him  in  the  narrow  path 
of  duty. 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 


By  Senator  Boulton. 

THE  policy  of  the  open  door  is  the 
policy  of  the  Imperial  Government. 
It  is  not  a  party  policy  ;  it  is  an  Im- 
perial policy.  Wherever  the  influence 
of  the  Imperial  Government  extends 
to  the  commercial  life  of  nations  di- 
rectly under  its  control  that  system 
prevails  and  sound  government  is  the 
result.  It  is  an  announcement  to  the  na- 
tions of  the  world  that  the  British  are 
prepared  to  compete  with  them  upon 
their  own  soil  or  under  their  own  flag 
without  fear  or  favour.  In  the  self-gov- 
erning' branches  of  the  British  Empire, 
the  attitude  of  the  Imperial  Government 
is  one  of  neutrality  ;  it  virtually  says  : 
"  You  have  to  work  out  your  career  as 
nations  ;  you  have  to  gain  your  own 
experience.  Canada,  you  are  two  cen- 
turies old  ;  Africa,  you  have  passed 
your  first  centennial  ;  Australia,  three- 
quarters  of  a  century  has  passed  over 
your  head.  All  we  can  do  is  to  set  you 
an  example  drawn  from  the  experience 
of  generations,  and  so  far  as  you  can 
bring  yourselves  to  accommodate  the 
necessities  of  your  national  lives  to  our 
policy,  we  can  safely  recommend  you  to 
follow  it." 

I  do  not  think  any  one  will  deny  that 
the  rule  of  the  Imperial  Government 
has  been  for  good.  Its  principles  have 
been  cast  in  a  high  mould,  and  its 
government  of  inferior  races  has  been 
productive  of  the  best  results.  That  is 
the  verdict  of  the  world  at  large.  That 
rival  powers  are  disposed  to  view  with 
jealousy  the  solid  advance  of  the  Im- 
perial Government  of  Great  Britain 
and  Ireland  as  leader  of  the  world  is 
not  to  be  wondered  at  Their  fighting 
powers  have  not  been  brought  into 
play  against  it,  but  they  have  sought 
to  make  their  commercial  powers  do 
dutj  to  overcome-the  absolute  indiffer- 

ence of  the  Imperial  Government  tc 
competition  in  trade  or  in  finance.  By 
means  of  protective  duties,  export 
bounties  and  artificial  methods  they 
have  attempted  to  exclude  British 
trade  from  not  only  their  own  bounds, 
but  wherever  their  flag  waves  in  dis-  . 
tant  portions  of  the  earth.  Increasing 
their  armaments  and  testing  the  finan- 
cial strength  of  Great  Britain  to  keep 
pace  does  not  produce  a  ripple  on  the 
surface  of  British  finance,  and  the 
determination  to  keep  the  power  of  the 
navy  equal  to  that  of  any  other  two 
nations  is  not  beyond  the  annual 
resources  of  the  revenue.  The  process 
of  exhaustion  has  been  heavier  on  the 
constitutions  of  foreign  powers  than  it 
has  been  on  that  of  the  British  Isles. 

The  national  constitution  should  be 
just  as  much  an  object  of  care  and  solici- 
tude as  his  own  constitution  is  to  an  in- 
dividual. Wisdom  has  guided  those 
upon  whom  devolves  the  responsibility 
of  preserving  the  constitution  of  the 
British  Empire  in  a  healthy  state.  What 
are  its  characteristics  P  Liberty  of  ac- 
tion, liberty  of  conscience  and  liberty  of 
commerce  to  find  its  own  level. 

We  have  a  place  in  the  British  Em- 
pire. Our  political  rule  of  life  is  mould- 
ed upon  its  constitution ;  but  with  that 
liberty  of  action  which  is  its  basic  prin- 
ciple, we  have  to  exercise  wisdom  to 
preserve  our  constitution  in  a  healthy 
state,  and  upon  us  as  Canadians  de- 
volves the  whole  responsibility.  We 
have  a  place  on  this  continent  which  is 
our  own,  alongside  of  a  friendly  neigh- 
bour with  whom  we  are  closely  allied 
by  natural  ties.  Towork  out  our  nation- 
al life,  not  as  a  counter-irritant  to  theirs, 
but  with  collateral  aims,  seems  to  be 
the  path  of  duty.  We  have  attained  a 
vigorous  manhood,  our  national  boun- 


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daries  are  fairly  well  defined,  and 
within  their  radius  we  have  our  own 
problems  to  solve  in  carving  out  the 
future  of  Canada. 

A  careless,  or  off  some  tongues  a 
designed,  expression  is  often  used, 
that  "Posterity  has  done  nothing  for 
me.  Ergo,  it  is  my  privilege  to  drink 
to  the  dregs  the  present  life  which  is 
mine."  The  sentiment  is  weak.  The 
man  or  the  woman  who  cares  little  what 
comes  after  them  in  private,  municipal, 
provincial  or  national  life  does  a  wrong 
which  dips  far  into  the  future,  and  a 
wrong  which  it  is  difficult  to  remedy. 
Wasting  our  national  resources  is  just 
as  bad  as  wasting  our  individual  phys- 
ical resources.  The  first  duty  of  our 
naiional  Government  in  order  to 
tnaintun  its  national  strength,  which 
is  proportioned  to  the  respect  it  is  able 
to  maintain  among  the  nations  of  the 
earth  for  good  government,  is  to  pre- 
serve its  financial  strength.  The  plea 
that  the  national  Government  is  re- 
sponsible for  the  prosperity  of  the  indi- 
viduals composing  the  (lation  does  not 
hold  good  except  in  the  wisdom  of  the 
laws  which  regulate  their  action  one 
towards  another. 

What  is  the  financial  strength  of  our 
national  Government  or  of  any  Govern- 
ment? It  is  its  taxable  power,  the 
revenue  from  which  should  be  a  reflex 
of  the  prosperity  of  the  people ;  to  the 
extent  that  it  divides  that  taxable  power 
with  class  or  corporate  interests,  to 
that  extent  is  its  financial  strength 
weakened  and  its  power  for  good  in  the 
national  life  of  the  people  is  also  weak- 
ened. We  have  drifted  into  a  policy 
that  produces  this  result.  The  people 
are  taxed  upon  their  necessaries  of  life 
for  protective  purposes ;  a  small  portion 
of  our  industrial  classes  are  protected 
by  a  tax  against  outsiders.  To  the  ex- 
tent which  that  taxation  is  imposed  the 
revenue  derived  from  that  taxation  is 
divided  between  the  manufacturers  and 
protected  industries  on  one  side,  with 
the  Government  on  the  other,  whereas 
the  whole  of  the  taxation  the  people 
are  called  upon  to  bear  should  be 
diverted  solely  into  the  treasury. 

Take  our  iron   industry    for  an  ex- 

ample ;  a  protective  duty  was  imposed 
upon  our  pig  iron  of  $4.00  per  ton, 
now  reduced  to  $2.50.  At  the  end  of 
fourteen  years  this  has  resulted,  in  1898, 
in  a  production  of  77,000  tons  in  the 
whole  of  Canada,  while  our  neighbours 
to  the  south  produce  15,000,000  tons, 
and  Great  Britain  13,000,000  tons. 
That  duty  on  pig  iron  necessitated 
duties  all  along  the  line  of  iron  indus- 
tries ranging  up  to  forty  per  cent. ,  en- 
tailing last  year  a  direct  tax  of  $3, 500,- 
000  on  imports  which  went  into  the 
revenue,  and  a  corresponding  amount 
of  taxation  induced  by  the  monopoly, 
the  proceeds  of  which  went  into  the 
pockets  of  protected  classes.  What  for? 
To  bring  into  life  the  production  of  raw 
material  to  the  extent  of  77,000  tons, 
valued  at  $770,000  !  Whereas  by  giv- 
ing the  iron  workers  free  iron  they 
would  be  in  a  better  position  to  hold 
the  home  market,  and  also  to  compete 
in  the  foreign  market,  and  a  tax  of 
$9,000,000  divided  between  the  revenue 
and  private  parties  would  not  be  rest- 
ing upon  the  people. 

Another  example :  take  spirits;  the  ex- 
cise is$i.90pergallon,thedutyis$3.40, 
the  difference,  fifty  cents,  should  go  to 
the  treasury  but  it  goes  to  build  up 
private  fortunes.  In  England  the  ex- 
cise is  $3.50,  the  duty  is  four  cents 
less,  consequently  the  Government  get 
all  there  is  in  the  taxation. 

And  so  you  can  go  through  the 
whole  range  of  customs  taxation.  In 
England  the  whole  of  the  taxation  goes 
to  revenue ;  in  Canada  it  is  divided 
with  favoured  classes.  In  the  United 
States  it  is  the  same.  A  forcible  feat- 
ure has  presented  itself  there  from  the 
fact  that  the  excess  of  exports  over  im- 
ports is  enormous.  Twelve  hundred 
and  sixty  millions  was  the  value  of  the 
exports  last  year,  and  the  imports 
are  six  hundred  and  fifty  millions  less ; 
twice  as  much  of  their  material  re- 
sources has  gone  out  of  the  couirtry 
as  has  been  returned  to  it.  The  why 
and  the  wherefore  has  yet  to  be  ascer- 
tained ;  it  is  presumably  the  effect  of 
high  protective  taxation  which  drains 
the  country  and  paralyzes  the  revenue. 

In  Great  Britain  the  reverse  condi- 

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tioDS  prevail,  and  there  is  a  great  re- 
dundancy of  revenue,  because  no  pri- 
vate interest  divides  with  the  Govern- 
ment the  taxes  which  the  people  bear. 
That  principle  does  not  retard  the  ac- 
cumulation of  wealth,  for  their  statis- 
tics show  that  the  same  rate  of  income 
tax  produces  for  the  revenue  ten  million 
dollars  a  year  more  to-day  than  it  did 
ten  years  ago. 

Their  navigation  laws  are  based  on 
liberty  of  action  which,  with  the  foster- 
ing principles  of  free  trade,  have  made 
the  British  Isles  the  greatest  maritime 
power  in  the  world.  The  Imperial 
Government  acts  upon  the  principle 
that  competition  brings  the  reserve 
power  of  the  people  into  the  fullest 
play  for  the  benefit  of  the  nation,  while 
coddling  enervates  the  powers  of  those 
large  interests  which  act  as  the  main- 
spring of  our  national  life. 

To  cite  an  example  of  the  efforts  of 
our  people  to  make  water  run  up  hill. 
The  town  of  Midland  has  just  voted  a 
bonus  of  fifty  thousand  dollars  for 
smelting  works,  to  be  constructed  by 
some  of  our  large  protected  capitalists 
in  Montreal.  The  taxation  of  the  people 
commences  there.  Then  the  people  as 
a  whole  are  to  be  taxed  on  the  product 
by  the  protective  duty.  Again,  there  is 
a  bonus  of  three  dollars  a  ton  on  iron 
produced  by  the  Dominion  Government, 
and  two  dollars  a  ton  by  the  Ontario 

Here  the  taxable  power  of  the  people 
is  used  up  for  class  interests.  In  the 
Mesaba  range,  south  of  the  Canadian 
boundary  on  Lake  Superior,  iron  ore 
is  laid  ready  for  shipment  for  fifty  cents 
a  ton,  is  conveyed  cheaply  to  Cleveland 
or  other  places  where  it  meets  untaxed 
coal  and  is  converted  into  iron  which 
is  sold  for  nine  dollars  a  ton.  We  do- 
nate by  burdensome  taxation  eight  dol- 
lars before  we  can  secure  the  produc- 
tion of  a  ton.  Now,  the  harbour  of 
Midland,  at  the  terminus  of  the  Mid- 
land Railway  system,  is  for  progressive 
purposes  away  ahead  of  any  industry 
bolstered  by  such  a  false  system,  but 
here  protective  taxation  again  inter- 
venes. We  have  burdened  the  railway 
with  enormous  tax-bearing  securities. 

and  we  have  made  our  Canadian  marine 
a  close  preserve,  satisfied  with  a  small 
business  but  large  profits.  Conse- 
quently, while  the  great  lakes  to  ihe 
west  are  covered  with  shipping  and  in- 
dustrial life.  Midland,  the  most  natural 
outlet,  only  hears  the  hum  from  a  dis- 
tance. The  remedy  is,  allow  the  freest 
competition  for  the  American  marine 
to  come  to  Canadian  ports,  which 
will  put  fresh  blood  into  Canadian 
shipping.  Canadian  shipping  is  at 
liberty  to  compete,  and  does  com- 
pete with  American  shipping  in  carry- 
ing from  a  Canadian  port  to  an  Ameri- 
can port,  or  from  an  American  to  a  Can- 
adian port,  but  it  has  a  different  rate  in 
carrying  from  a  Canadian  port  to  a 
Canadian  port  where  it  has  a  monopoly. 

There  is  another  phase  of  this  large 
question  which  experience  is  opening 
out  to  our  senses.  Why  should  we 
not  have  free  trade  with  Great  Britain? 
Why  should  we  not  give  greater  atten-  ' 
tion  to  production  which  is  the  creation 
of  new  wealth  ?  Protection  to  manu- 
factures is  a  tax  on  production,  and 
the  market  for  manufactures  under  a 
different  system  might  be  enlarged  in 
foreign  markets,  while  all  that  produ- 
cers ask  is  to  be  relieved  of  the  manu- 
facturers' tax.  The  principle  of  ex- 
change in  an  international  sense  has 
not  been  sufficiently  studied.  Great 
Britain  admits  our  products  free,  the 
United  States  takes  them.  We  tax  the 
product  of  British  labor  28  or  39  per 
cent.  She  is  debarred  from  purchas- 
ing from  us,  except  what  she  actually 
requires  because  we  refuse  to  allow  her 
trade  to  return.  The  statement  can 
hardly  be  questioned  that  if  there  were 
no  tax  on  the  product  of  British  labour 
except  through  our  excise  laws  they 
would  become  larger  purchasers,  and 
Canadian  producers  would  get  better 
prices  for  what  they  sell  to  them. 

Inaccommodatingourtradiog  powers 
to  new  conditions,  our  attention  is 
naturally  first  attracted  to  that  market 
that  furnishes  us  with  a  constant  and 
ever-growing  free  sale.  It  must  be 
admitted  that  Great  Britain  is  our  best 
and  most  profitable  customer  ;  how  to 
enlarge  our  trade  with  her,  so  that  we 

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caa  add  to  the  material  wealth  of 
Canada  from  the  natural  resources 
with  which  our  country  abounds  should 
be  our  first  care.  We  have  fostered 
our  manufactures  for  twenty  years 
until  they  have  outg'rown  the  small 
market-Canada  offers,  and  a  different 
stimulus  requires  to  be  applied.  That 
is  cheaper  raw  material  aind  an  en- 
larged market  by  an  application  of  the 
Canadian  view  of  free  trade,  which  is, 
''  free  on  both  sides."  The  only  mar- 
ket we  have  the  opportunity  of  apply- 
\Xi%  that  principle  to  is  the  British  mar- 
ket. The  idea  that  we  must  first  force 
it  to  become  a  protective  market  in  our 
favour  before  we  can  apply  those  prin- 
ciples is  not  sound.  We  ourselves 
have  the  opportunity  of  applying  the 
principles  of  free  exchange;  it  is  for  us 
to  adopt  them.  If  our  exports  are  ad- 
mitted free  and  we  tax  the  return 
trade  30  per  cent,  somebody  besides 
the  producer  of  those  exports  gets  the 
difference,  that  is  clear.  By  the  re- 
moval of  that  30  per  cent. ,  unquestion- 
ably production  becomes  more  profit- 

Take  iron  ore  as  an  example.  Eng- 
land requires  ore  to  aid  in  the  produc- 
tion of  her  twelve  million  tons  of  iron. 
Tax  her  trade  and  she  cannot  pur- 
chase it.  Remove  the  tax  and  she 
will  come  here  and  look  for  it.  Iron 
ore  is  now  being  placed  ready  for  ship- 
ment at  the  head  of  Lake  Superior  for 
fifty  cents  a  ton  for  American  smelters 
twelve  hundred  miles  distant,  and  this 
enables  them  to  produce  cheap  iron.  It 
is  equally  advantageous  on  the  Cana- 
dian side.  Take  off  the  tariff  against 
British  trade  and  we  wiii  open  out  a 
large  market  for  Canadian  ore,  which  is 
excluded  from  the  United  Slates  market 
by  a  tax  of  fifty  cents  a  ton.  The  pro- 
duction and  transportation  of  that 
trade  would  grow  to  large  dimensions, 
without  absorbing  any  of  the  taxable 
power  of  the  Canadian  people ;  the 
additional  water  transportation  would 
not  be  a  bar  to  the  trade  with  the 
United  Kingdom. 

The  market  for  wood  pulp  would 
under  like  conditions  be  transferred 
from  the  American  market  to  the  Brit- 

ish market  In  the  case  of  lumber  it 
would  be  the  same,  and  so  we  might 
go  through  the  whole  list  of  Canada's 
resources.  No  one  will  deny  that  our 
farmers  will  have  their  productive  cap- 
acity increased  by  the  removal  of  the 
burdensome  tax  against  their  principal 
and  most  profitable  customer.  Produc- 
tion from  the  soil  is  the  great  source  of 
Canada's  wealth,  and  no  industry  suffers 
so  much  from  the  tax  on  the  internation- 
al trade  for  their  surplus  products  asour 
agricultural  community.  No  one  ap- 
preciates that  more  than  our  western 
farmers.  Remove  the  tax  on  our 
trade  with  Great  Britain  on  the  broad 
principle  of  free  exchange,  and  there 
will  be  fresh  life  run  through  every 
artery  of  Canadian  industry.  By  in- 
creasing the  productive  capacity  and 
the  consequent  increase  in  wealth  of 
Canada's  resources,  no  injury  will  befall 
any  industry.  Add  free  iron,  coal  and 
coal-oil  to  the  general  free-list  and  a 
great  impetus  will  be  given  to  the  in- 
dustry of  our  iron-workers. 

These  are  principles  of  trade  which 
new  conditions  force  upon  our  atten- 
tion. We  find  that  under  our  present 
system  of  monopoly,  which  gathers 
under  protective  taxation  that  the 
laxable  power,  which  should  alone  exist 
'or  national  strength,  is  being  trans- 
'erred  in  undue  proportions  to  private  or 
class  interests.  The  effort  in  our  polit- 
ical life  is  a  race  for  selfish  control,  and 

fastening  by  legislation  the  chains  of 
commercial  and  political  serfdom.  The 
welfare  of  the  nation,  or  the  prosperity 
of  the  masses  has  little  place  in  our 
political  controversy  under  these  cir- 

The  alienation  of  taxable  power  is 
most  easily  shown  in  coal  oil.  South 
of  the  boundary  it  retails  at  ten  cents  a 
gallon,  north  it  retails  at  25  cents  a 
gallon.  The  consumption  is  19,000,000 
gallons  refined  oil,  of  which  about  11,- 
000, OCX)  is  produced  and  8,000,000  im- 
ported, ThedifFerence  represents  the  tax- 
ablepower.  Fifteen  cents  on  19,000,000 
gallons  is  $2,850,000,  of  which  the 
Government  only  receives  $400,000,  or 
five  cents  a  gallon  on  the  eight  million 
gallons  imported.     The  strength  of  the 

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national  GoverDmeat  depends  upon 
keeping  under  its  4wn  control,  so  far 
as  possible,  the  taxable  power  of  the 
people.  A  strong  national  Govern- 
ment  based  upon  wisdom  and  justice 
redounds  to  the  welfare  and  comfort  of 
the  whole  population.  A  national 
Government  weakened  by  the  aliena- 
tion of  its  taxable  power  necessarily 
becomes  subordinate  to  those  influ- 
ences that  have  absorbed  the  taxable 

In  the  days  of  old,  when  chivalry 
was  at  its  height,  Robin  Hood  took 
from  the  rich  and  gave  to  the  poor, 
and  ran  his  risk  of  the  gallows ;  in 
these  days  the   reverse  obtains,    and 

tribute  is  now  levied  on  the  poor  and 
given  to  the  rich  by  a  system  of  legis- 
lation that  is  termed  by  the  opponents 
of  the  system  "legalized  robbery." 
The  people  of  Great  Britain  have 
learned  the  lesson,  and  the  secret  of 
their  great  strength  in  a  national  sense 
is  the  result  of  sound  experience  in 
governing,  and  broad  principles  in 
finance.  To  save  the  taxable  power 
from  undue  private  exploitation,  so 
that  the  wealth  of  the  country  will  re- 
spond to  the  requirements  of  revenue, 
for  national  strength  in  proportion  to 
its  acquisition  is  the  duty  of  the  hour 
in  Canada. 

C.  A.  Boulton. 



"pHE  place  of  Dante  in  the  first 
^  rank  of  the  literary  men  of  the 
world  is,  like  that  of  Homer  and 
Shakespeare,  established  and  unassail- 
able. His  great  poem,  called  by  him 
La  Commedia,  to  which  a  sure  human 
mslinct  has  added  Divina,  is,  by  uni- 
versal consent,  one  of  the  great  pos- 
sessions of  the  human  race.  It  is  call- 
ed a  comedy,  Dante  says  in  his  dedica- 
tion to  Can  Grande  della  Scala,  be- 
cause it  "  begins  with  adversity.  .  .  . 
■  .  but  its  matter  ends  prosperously." 
The  succession  of  visions  recorded  in 
this  poem  was  granted  to  Dante  on 
the  intercession  of  Beatrice  for  the 
establishment  of  his  faith,  and  for  the 
removal  of  his  doubts.  He  was  to  be 
conducted  by  Virgil  first  through  the 
abodes  of  the  lost  and  then  through 
the  place  of  purification  ;  and,  after- 
wards Beatrice  was  to  guide  him 
through  the  regions  of  the  saved.  The 
first  (Hell)  was  the  place  of  retri- 
bution and  despair  ;  the  second  (Pur- 
gatory) the  place  of  cleansing  and  of 
hope  ;  the  third  (Paradise)  the  place  of 
fruition  and  of  intimate  communion 
with  God. 

Dante,  writing  in  his  thirty-fifth 
year,  ( "  in  the  middle  of  the  journey  of 
our  life ")  tells  how  he  finds  himself 
endeavouring  to  climb  a  mountain  in 
order  to  escape  from  a  forest  in  which 
he  had  become  entangled.  Here  he 
was  encountered  by  three  beasts,  a 
panther,  a  lion,  and  a  she-wolf,  (a  ref- 
erence to  Jeremiah  v.  6  ;  cf.  i  John  ii. 
1 6)  representing  the  vices  of  volup- 
tuousness, pride  and  avarice  ;  and  in 
their  second  intention,  Florence, 
France,  and  the  Papal  Court.  Whilst 
overwhelmed  with  fear  and  losing 
all  hope  of  ascending  the  mountain, 
Dante  was  met  by  Virgil  who  told  him 
of  his  purpose  to  lead  him  first  through 
the  "spirits  of  old  tormented,"  and 
next  those  "  who  dwell  content  in 
fire."  After  some  hesitation  he  con- 
sents to  accompany  him  whom  he  re- 
gards as  his  master  (il  maestro),  and 
they  arrive  at  the  gate  of  hell. 

Very  remarkable  and  noteworthy  is 
the  inscription  they  found  there.  Every 
phrase  of  it  deserves  study. 

•'  Through  me  you  pass  into  the  city  of  woe: 
Through  me  you  pass  into  eternal  pain  i 
Through  me  among  the  people  lost  for  aye. 

•The  first  of  three  papers  by  Professor  William  Clarlt.  of  Trinity  College,  Toronto, 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 


Juslice,  the  founder  of  my  fabric  moved. 
To  rear  me  was  the  work  of  power  divine, 
Supreinest  wisdom  and  primeval  love. 
Before    me  things    create    were    none,  save 

Eternal,  and  eternal  I  endure. 

All  hope  abandon,  ye  who  enter  here." 

Let  us  retnember  we  are  here  com- 
ing to  the  abode  cX  the  lost,  the  im- 
penitent, the  hopeless.  We  have  no 
reason  to  doubt  that  Dante  held  the 
doctrine  of  hts  age  and  of  the  great 
doctors,  like  S.  Thomas  Aquinas.  But 
we  may  also  see  in  the  pictures  of  mis- 
ery which  he  presents  to  us,  the  fruits 
and  consequences  of  sin  in  this  life. 
In  the  case  of  the  impenitent  this  loss 
is  insuperable.  In  the  second  class, 
the  dwellers  in  Purgatory,  there  is 
purification  with  the  hope  of  bliss  ;  and 
in  Paradise  fellowship  with  God.  We 
have  here  represented  what  theolog- 
ians call  the  punitive  state,  the  pui^a- 
tive,    the    illuminative,    and  the  uni- 

We  note  here  that  the  inscription 
declares  Hell  to  be  the  work  of  Justice 
and  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  represented 
by  Power,  Wisdom  and  Love.  Hell  is 
the  first  of  created  things,  inasmuch  as 
taw  enters  along  with  existence  and 
exists  for  ever. 

In  regard  to  the  structure  of  hell, 
Dante  departs  to  some  extent  from  the 
theory  of  the  school-meo.  They  repre- 
sented Hell  and  Purgatory  as  being 
beneath  the  earth,  and  divided  into 
four  compartments :  i.  Hell,  the 
abode  of  devils  and  the  lost,  the 
place  of  despair.  2.  Purgatory,  the 
place  of  penance  and  purification,  ad- 
jacent to  Hell,  but  different,  the  place 
of  hope.  3.  Limbus  Infantum,  the 
place  of  unbaptized  children.  ^.  Lim- 
bus Patrum,  or  Abraham's  bosom,  in- 
habited by  the  righteous  who  died  be- 
fore Christ.  They  further  taught  that 
Heaven  consisted  of  three  parts:  1. 
The  visible  Heaven,  or  the  firmament. 
3.  The  spiritual  Heaven,  the  abode  of 
angels  and  saints.  3.  The  intellectual 
Heaven,  where  the  blessed  enjoy  the 
vision  of  God. 

Dante's  representation  is  different. 
According  to  him,  there  is  outside  hell 
proper,  but  within  the  gate,  a  vestibule 

occupied  by  the  cowards  and  the  unde- 
cided, hateful  to  hesfven  and  hell  alike. 
Hell  itself  is  a  conical  gulf  in  the  earth 
made  by  Lucifer  when  he  was  precipi- 
tated from  heaven,  and  the  making  of 
this  cavity  within  the  earth  caused  the 
formation  of  a  conical  erection  outside, 
which  became  the  hill  of  purgatory. 
Within  the  inverted  cone  of  hell  there 
are  nine  circles  in  all,  larger  at  the  top 
and  naturally  narrowing  as  they  des- 
cend. Sins  resolvethemselves  into  two 
great  classes,  those  of  infirmity,  and 
those  partaking  of  malice.  Generally 
they  are  represented  as  the  perversion 
of  good  and  of  man's  powers.  Sins  of 
weakness  are  less  heinous  in  their 
nature,  but  comprehend  larger  numbers 
of  men  and  women.  As,  in  the  descent, 
they  gain  in  intensity,  they  lose  in  ex- 
tension ;  yet  the  subdivisions  increase, 
for   example,  there    are    ten    kinds  of 

The  seven  cardinal  sins  represented 
in  the  Inferno  are  1  i.  Incontinence  ;  2, 
gluttony;  3,  avarice;  4,  anger ;  5, 
heresy ;  6,  violence ;  7,  fraud.  The  sins 
are  enumerated  in  a  somewhat  different 
manner,  and  in  an  inverse  order,  in  the 
Purgatorio,  as  we  shall  see.  But  we 
return  to  the  vestibule  of  the  cowardly 
and  undecided.  Here  all  Dante's  scorn 
and  contempt  breaks  forth.  If  a  sense 
of  justice  had  not  restrained  him,  his 
indignation  would  have  sent  them  deep- 
er. As  it  is,  he  brings  out  the  loath- 
someness of  such  a  character.  Dante 
would  seem  to  have  good  authority  for 
his  estimate.  We  are  all  familiar  with 
the  passage  in  the  song  of  Deborah  in 
which  Meroz  is  cursed  because  of  the  in- 
difference of  its  inhabitants.  Even 
more  striking  is  the  imagery  in  which 
theLord  of  theChurch  sets  forth  his  feel- 
ing of  disgust  towards  lukewarm  Lao- 
dicea,  and  if  we  may  pass  from  these 
lofty  heights  to  modern  secular  litera- 
ture, we  have  in  the  "  Tomlinson  "  of 
Mr.  Rudyard  Kipling  an  admirable  and 
powerful  picture  of  one  who  is  "too 
bad  for  blessing,  and  not  bad  enough 
for  banning."  It  is  of  this  class  that 
Virgil  speaks  the  words  so  often  quot- 
ed :  "  Speak  not  of  them,  but  look  and 
pass  them  by."      {Non   raggiotmm  di 

:y  Google 



loro,  ma  gtutrda  e  passa. )  Dante  adds  : 

"  Forthnrith 
I  undentood,  for  certAin,  this  tbe  tribe 
Of  those  ill  s|»rits  both  to  God  displeanug 
And  to  His  foea." 

One  figure  was  singled'  out  for 
special  notice,  "  the  shade  of  him,  who 
to  base  fear  yielding  abjured  his  high 
estate."  (In  the  original  the  often 
quoted  words,  "  Che/eceperinltate  il 
gran  rifiuto.")  The  reference  is  gener- 
ally supposed  to  be  to  Pope  Celestine 
v.,  who  gave  up  the  papal  throne  from 
a  sense  of  unworthiness.  It  was  char- 
acteristic of  Dante  to  lack  sympathy 
with  such  a  character.  Still  to  ordin- 
ary mortals  it  is  satisfactory  to  know 
that  the  Church  took  a  more  favourable 
view,  for  Celestine  was  canonized  A.  D. 


They  now  came  to  the  River  Acheron, 
identified  by  Virgil  with  the  Styx. 
Across  this  river  the  lost  are  ferried  by 
Charon.  The  sights  and  sounds  of 
horror,  the  earthquake  and  lightning 
flame  which  followed,  Dante  says, 
"all  my  senses  conquered,"  and  he 
dropped  down,  "as  one  with  sudden 
slumber  seized."  But  he  was  awaken- 
ed by  "a  crash  of  heavy  thunder" 
which  "broke  the  deep  slumber  in  my 
brain  "  ;  and  now  he  found  himself  00 
the  brink  of  the  "lamentable  vale." 
In  the  first  circle  he  finds  the  Limbus 
of  the  uabaptized,  those  who  have  been 
guilty  of  no  wilful  sin  against  God. 
With  a  fine  discrimination  Dante  repre- 
sents those  dwelling  in  Limbus  as 
suffering  no  torments,  but  only  ex- 
periencing longings  which  are  never 
satisfied.  Even  if  we  do  not  follow 
Dante  in  his  picture  of  the  unseen 
world,  we  have  here  a  striking  repre- 
sentation of  the  longing  of  the  world 
without  God.  "The  whole  creation 
groaneth  and  travaileth  in  pain."  And 
there  is  a  hint  given  that  the  doors  of 
Limbus  are  not  hermetically  sealed. 
Virgil  gives  an  account  of  the  visit  of 
"a  puissant  one,"  who  had  removed 
some  from  that  place  (a  reference  to  i 
Peter  iii.  19).  They  socjn  encounter  a 
band  of  five  poets,  from  Homer  down- 
wards. Dante  is  admitted  to  their 
Dumber,  and  Virgil  being  one,  he  be- 

comes the  seventh.  Next  they  en- 
counter heroes  and  sages,  and  pre- 
eminent among  the  latter,  the  great 
Aristotle  whom  Dante  describes  as  "  il 
maestro  di  color  che  saano  "  (the  mas- 
ter of  those  who  know),  a  grand  phrase 
which  Cary  translates,  not  with  his 
accustomed  felicity,  "the  master  of 
the  sapient  throng."''^ 

We  now  come  to  the  second  circle, 
containing  the  first  class  of  sinners, 
those  guilty  of  concupiscence,  passion, 
incontinence.  Minas  examines  those 
who  enter,  and  determines  their  place. 
We  note  here,  of  Dante,  in  his  inter- 
course with  the  lost,  the  union  of  pity 
and  compassion  with  inexorable  jus- 
tice. With  profound  insight  he  repre- 
sents the  occupants  of  this  circle,  the 
incontinent,  as  tossed  about  incessantly 
in  the  dark  air,  and  swept  along  by 

Smites  on  mine  ear.     Into  &  place  I  came 
Where  li^ht  was  silent  all.    Bellowing;  there 

A  noise,  as  of  a  sea  in  tempest  ton) 
By  waving  winds — the  stormy  blast  of  hdi. 
With  restless  fury  drives  the  spirits  on. 
Whirled  round  and  dashed  amain  with  sore 

And  blasphemies  'gainst  the  good  power  in 

I  understood  that  to  this  torment  sad 

The  carnal  sinners  are  condemned,  in  whom 

Reason  by  lust  is  swayed." 

Of  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  second 
circle  there  were  two  who  principally 
attracted  the  attention  of  Dante,  and 
whose  names  are  familiar  to  all  stu- 
dents of  the  Commedia,  Francesca  da 
Rimini  and  her  lover  and  brother-in- 
law,  Paolo,  son  of  Malatesta,  Lord  of 
Rimini.  Loving  Paolo,  she  had  been 
married  against  her  will  to  his  brother 
Lanciotto,  who  one  day  surprised  them 
and  slew  them.  Francesca  tells  the 
pathetic  story  to  Dante,  feeling  the 
pain  of  it : 

*On  the  whole,  the  writer  has  no  hesitation 
in  regarding;  Gary's  translation  of  Dante  as' 
the  hest  representation  of  the  original. 



These   beautiful   words  have   often 
been    imitated,  by    Italian    poets,  by 

Chaucer    in    his    "  Troilus  and    Cres- 

cide"   (xiv.    too),    but   by  none  more 

nobly  than  by  Tennyson  in  "  Locksley 
Hall"  ■ 
"  This  is  tnitli  the  poet  sings, 

That  a 

I   or  SI 

tiering'  happier 

The  humanity  of  the  story  comes 
out  in  several  parts.  Thus  in  all  the 
grief  and  suffering;  of  Francesca  it 
was  a  satisfaction  to  know  that  she 
would  never  be  separated  from  Paolo. 
Telling    the    story  of   their  love,  she 

"  Then  he  who  ne'er 
From  me  stiall  separate,  at  once  my  lips 
All  trembling  kissed." 

So,  in  speaking  of  the  husband  and 
brother,    who    had    killed    them,  she 

Lanciotto,    at   least,   was   doomed  to 
Calna  in  the  lowest  hell. 

They  next  pass  on  to  the  third  circle 
in  which  the  second  form  of  sensual 
sin,  gluttony,  is  punished.  The  glut- 
tons, certainly  including  the  drunk- 
ards, although  these  are  not  mentioned 
by  name,  are  condemned  to  lie  In  the 
mire  under  a  heavy  storm  of  hail, 
snow,  and  discoloured  water.  Cer- 
berus, the  three-headed  dog  of  hell, 
"  barks  as  a  dog." 

"  He  tears  the  spirits,  flays  them,  and  their 
limbs  piecemeal  disparts,"  while  Ihey  lie 
"  howlinff." 

as  : 

■'Curs  under  the  rainy  deluge." 
The  sin  of  avarice,  together  with  that 
of  prodigality,  is  punished  in  the  fourth 
circle.  Here  are  two  different  sides  of 
the  same  order  of  evil.  This  circle  is 
appropriately  guarded  by  Plutus,  the  ■ 
god  of  wealth,  When  we  remember 
that  Aristotle  ascribes  a  worse  char- 
acter to  avarice  than  to  prodigality, 
and  that  this  is  the  popular  judgment, 
we  may  venture  to  attribute  a  deeper 
insight  to  Dante,  who  represents  both 

classes  as  rolling  great  weights  and 
smiting  against  each  other,  hurling 
mutual  reproaches  of  giving  and  with- 
holding, without  attempting  to  adjust 
the  balance  of  guiltiness. 

From  these  they  pass  on  to  the  fifth 
circle,  in  which  is  the  fourth  form  of  sin, 
the  Stygian  lake  of  hatred  and  sadness, 
the  sin  of  anger.  Here  the  irascible 
and  the  sullen  are  immured.  Only  a 
few  lines  are  given  to  these  forms  of 
evil,  but  how  striking  they  are.  Here 
is  violent  anger  : 

"  A  miry  (ribe,  all  naked,  and  with  looks 
Betokening  rage.     They   with  their  hands 

Struck  not,  but  with  Ihe  head,  the  breast, 

the  feet. 
Cutting  each   other  piecemeal    with   their 


And  thus  the  sullen,  lying  in  slime, 
are  represented  as  describing  them- 
selves : 

"  Sad  oni-c  were  we 
In  the  sweet  air  made  gladsome  by  the  sun, 
Carrying  a  foul  and  lazy  mist  within  : 
Now  in  these  murky  settlings  are  we  sad." 

With  anger  pride  is  associated,  and 
rightly.  Moreover,  pride  was  regarded 
by  the  great  doctors  as  the  very  es- 
sence of  sin  ;  and  this  is  perhapii  the 
reason  why  it  has  no  special  place  here, 
as  in  the  Purgatorio.  Here  the  forms 
of  evil  are  punished  ;  there  the  princi- 
ples are  purged  away. 

We  now  come  to  the  city  of  Dis 
(Lucifer),  the  beginning  of  the  lower 
Hell,  in  which  the  more  heinous  sins, 
those  of  malice,  are  punished.  In  the 
sixth  circle  we  meet  with  something 
intermediate  between  infirmity  and 
malice,  the  sin  of  Heresy.  The  de- 
scription of  this  circle  extends  over 
four  cantos.  The  heretics  are  thrust 
into  fiery  tombs,  not  to  be  closed  until 
the  day  of  judgment.  From  beneath 
the  coverings  of  the  tombs,  suspended 
above  them,  there  come  the  moans  ol 
tortured  spirits  of  heresiarchs  and  their 
followers.  Dante  meets  here  with 
some  whom  he  had  known  on  earth, 
e.g.,  Farinata  degli  Uberti,  insolent 
and  heretical,  assuming  a  superiority, 
a  reproach  which  the  poet  flung  back 
upon  him — in  both  cases,  a  reminis- 
cence of  some  experiences  on  earth. 


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In  the  seventh  circle  we  come 
upon  the  sixth  class  of  sins,  that  of 
malice  ;  there  are  several  divisions. 
First  we  come  to  the  violent  malicious 
(Cantos  xii.  to  xvi.);  and  these  are 
divided  into  three  classes.  The  descent 
is  by  a  precipitous  chasm,  formed  by 
the  earthquake  which  convulsed  hell 
at  the  descent  of  our  Lord  thither,  when 
He  came  to  carry  "off  from  Uis  the 
mighty  Spoil,"  They  came  to  the 
river  of  btood,  in  which  those  are  pun- 
ished who  have  injured  others  fay 
violence.  The  three  rounds  of  the 
violent  are  those  guilty  of  violence, 
first,  to  their  neighbours  ;  secondly,  to 
themselves  ;  thirdly,  to  God  ;  and  in 
each  case  it  may  be  either  to  person  or 
to  property,  i.  First  come  murderers 
and  tyrants  in  a  torrent  of  boilingblood 
(i)  Alexander,  Attila,  etc.  ;  (2)  rob- 
bers, etc.  3.  Next  come,  in  the 
second  class  (i)  suicides,  (2) gamblers. 
Under  this  head  he  incidentally  in- 
veig'hs  against  envy : 
"  The  harlot  who   ne'er  turned  her  glonling; 


Dante  confessed  to  much  pride  in 
himself,  although  but  little  envy ; 
and  he  is  specially  bitter  in  his  denun- 
ciation of  this  vice  as  that  which  had 
chiefly  contributed  to  his  expulsion 
trooi  Florence.  3.  The  third  kind  of 
vicdence  is  that  which  is  committed 
against  God  ;  and  the  two  classes  of 
olTenJers  are  (1)  blasphemers,  and  (2} 
sinners  against  Nature  aod  against 
Art.  Among  the  first  they  met  Ca- 
paneus,  one  of  the  seven  kings  of 
Theb«s,  who  "held  God  in  disdain," 
presenting  an  example  of  inveterate 
rebellion.     "Such,"  he  says  : 

"  Such  as  I  was 
When  living,  dead  such  now  I  am," 

And  here  sin  is  seen  in  the  punishment 
of  sin.  The  sin  against  Nature  is 
represented  by  Bruoetto  Latini,  a 
friend  and  teacher  of  Dante  ;  and  here 
come  out  his  affectionate  remembrances 
of  all  the  man's  excellences,  coupled 
with  condemnation  of  his  sin  ;  and  he 
would  rather  dwell  upon 

than  upon  the  darker  side  of  his  his- 
tory. Last  in  the  seventh  circle  came 
the  usurers. 

This  brings  us  to  the  eighth  circle  in 
whichand  in  the  following  and  last  is  the 
seventh  form  of  sin.  Fraud  is  punish- 
ed (Cantos  xvii.  to  xxxil.)  Arriving  at 
the  torrent  of  Phlegethon,  they  are 
carried  by  the  ruler  of  the 
fraudulent,  Geryon,  a  personification 
of  fraud,  whose  appearance  agrees  with 
his  character.  Like  the  Centaurs  and 
the  Harpies,  he  combines  the  forms  of 
man  and  beast — a  man  above  and  a 
creeping  snake  and  deadly  scorpion 
below.  His  face  is  that  of  a  righteous 
man,  kind  and  gracious,  his  body  that 
of  a  speckled  serpent.  "That  image 
vile  of  fraud  "  is  thus  described  : 

"His  face  the  semblance  ofa  just  man's  wore. 
So  kind  and  gracious  was  its  outward  cheer  ; 
The  rest  was  serpent  all ;  two  shag'i^  claws 
Reached   to  the  armpits,  and  the  back  and 

And  either  side  were  painted  o'er  with  nodes 
And  orbits,      Colours  variegated  more 
Nor  Turks  nor  Tartars  eer  on  cloth  o( slate 
With  interchang^eable  embroidery  wove, 
Nor  spread  Arachne  o'er  her  curious  loom.  .  . 
So  on  the  rim  that  fenced   the  sand  with  rock 
Sat  perched  the  fiend  of  evil.     In  the  void 
Glancing  his  tail  upturned  its  venomous  fork, 
With  sting-like  scorfMOns  armed."  (xmi.  7  H.) 

The  eighth  circle  is  divided  into  ten 
gulfs  or  pits,  and  presents  various  dif- 
ferences from  the  seventh  which  con- 
tained the  violent.  (i)  These  were 
placed  on  a  wide  plain,  the  fraudulent 
are  sunk  in  deep  trenches  ;  and  the 
craftier  they  had  been,  the  deeper  the 
cleft^.  (2)  The  holes  are  hewn  in  rocks 
hard  as  iron,  as  if  to  show  that  a  more 
hardened  heart  is  needed  for  fraud  than 
for  violence.  (3)  In  the  upper  circles 
the  passage  is  from  left  to  right ;  here 
they  are  from  right  to  left,  as  showing 
a  more  tortuous  character.  There  are 
in  this  circle  no  fewer  than  ten  circular 
and  concentric  trenches,  showing  the 
numerous  varieties  of  fraud. 

These  ten  trenches  are  peopled  as 
follows  :  (i)  By  the  seducers  of  women 
and  panderers,  marching  along  in  op- 
posite directions,  scourged  and  lashed 

Digitized  byGoO^IC 


by  horned  demons.  (2)  By  flatterers, 
buried  to  the  mouth  in  horrid  filth,  flat- 
tery being  a  more  hidden  evil.  The 
flatterers,  like  dogs,  licked  filth  on 
earth,  and  are  therefore  condemned  to 
a  like  punishment.  (3)  Next  come 
Simonia.ns,  followers  of  Simon  Magus, 
trafficking  in  sacred  things,  here  plung- 
ed head  foremost  into  burning  holes, 
their  feet  projecting,  (xix.  26.)  Dante  re- 
gards their  punishment  withgreat  satis- 
faction. Although  several  popes  are 
among  them,  Dante  disowns  all  dis- 
respect to  the  papal  see.  (1.  104.)  {4) 
In  the  fourth  trench  are  soothsayers, 
astrologers  and  those  who,  by  unlaw- 
ful means,  pried  into  the  future,  who 
are  now  condemned  to  have  their  faces 
turned,  looking  backwards.  (5)  Next 
come  corrupt  ofiicials,  barterers,  or 
public  peculators.  Dante's  experience 
of  Florence  taught  him  ;  but  Lucca,  he 
says,  was  worse.  (6)  Next  come  the 
hypocrites,  walking  with  downcast 
eyes,  golden  outside,  leaden  within. 
Among  these  are  Caiaphas,  Annas  and 
other  members  of  the  Jewish  Sanhe- 
drim, trodden  on  by  all  who  pass.  (7} 
Next  are  thieves  tormented  by  venom- 
ous and  pestilent  serpents,    (xxiv.  89.] 

(8)  Next  are  evil  counsellors,  men  who 
have  put  their  talents  to  bad  purpose 
in  misleading  others  by  their  advice. 
They  are  hidden  within  the  flames  from 
which  their  voices  come  forth.  In  one 
of  these  sheets  of  flame,  parted  at  the 
summit,  are  the  souls  of  Ulysses  and 
Diomede,  devisers  of  the  wooden  horse. 

(9)  Next  come  sowers  of  schism  and 
strife,  children  of  the  devil,  as  the  peace- 
makers are  children  of  God.  A  demon 
hews  their  bodies  asunder  and  cuts  ofl' 
their  tongues  and  hands.  The  body  of 
Mahomet  is  rent  from  head  to  foot. 

(10)  Last  in  this  circle  are  forgers  and 
coiners,  liars  and  calumniators,  and 
impersonators.  Coiners  are  in  the  last 
agony  of  dropsy  ;  calumniators  are  in 

burning  fever,  abusing  and  striking  one 

The  ninth  and  last  circle  is  still  occu- 
pied with  the  sin  of  fraud,  but  in  a  yet 
more  malignant  form.  We  have  here 
traitors  and  abusers  of  confidence. 
The  sinners  here  appear  as  giants  be- 
cause of  the  greatness  of  their  sins. 
They  are  immured  in  four  chasms  (1) 
Caiina,  where  are  betrayers  of  relatives  ; 

(2)  Antenora — traitors  to  their  country; 

(3)  Ptolomea — deceivers  under  the  form 
ofkindness;  (4)  Gtudecca — betrayersof 
benefactors.  In  the  midst  of  them 
Lucifer.  The  Coeytus,  the  fourth  river 
in  Hell,  here  forms  a  vast  sea  of  ice. 
It  "  liker  seemed  to  glass  than  water." 
In  this  frozen  lake  the  worst  sinners 
are  imprisoned,  the  icy  cold  represent- 
ing selfishness  and  isolation.  The 
sufferers  regard  each  other  with  mutual 
rage  and  hatred.  In  Giudecca,  Satan 
is  at  the  centre  of  the  gulf,  with  wings 
like  the  sails  of  a  gigantic  windmill, 
freezing  all  around.  At  the  centre  of  the 
earth  he  is  wedged  in  eternal  tee,  half 
of  his  form  toward  his  awful  kingdom, 
while  his  legs  protrude  towards  the 
southern  hemisphere.  He  has  three 
faces,  symbolic  of  the  three  kinds  of  sin, 
and  of  the  three  powers  which  prevent 
Italy  and  man  from  realizing  their  des- 
tiny. In  each  of  his  three  mouths  he 
champs  a  sinner  ;  in  the  middle  one, 
Judas,  the  betrayer  of  Christ ;  in  the 
two  others  Brutus  and  Cassius,  the 
murderers  of  Caesar.  Here  we  see 
Dante's  Ghibelline  tendencies. 

In  this  great  poem  there  is  much 
material  for  thought.  Dante  is  indeed  a 
preacher  of  righteouness,  who  has  the 
deepest  insight  into  the  things  of  man, 
and  the  things  of  God.  He  has  received 
the  homage  of  the  best  and  the  wisest 
of  men  for  many  centuries,  and  we 
may  do  well  to  try  our  own  spiritual 
vision  and  insight  by  our  success  in 
wrestling  with  his  thoughts. 

WUliam  Clark. 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 



NorE. — In  the  May  number  of  (he  Canadian  Magazine  were  described  the  exploits  of  Ra- 
disson  and  Groseilliers,  the  two  fur-traders  lo  whom  Ihe  inceplion  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Com- 
pany is  due.  It  will  be  recalled  that  they  captured  Fort  Nelson  (afterwards  York  Factory), 
and  carried  off  the  English,  their  former  associates,  prisoners  to  a  French  fori.  Bui  in  spile 
of  this  betrayal,  Radisson  seems  to  have  hankered  after  the  Company's  ^od-wlll  and  employ- 
merl.  He  soon  afterwards  returned  to  France,  leaving  Choiiarl,  his  nephew,  in  charge  of 
Fort  Bourbon.  These  chapters,  filll  of  highly  important  unpublished  material,  form  part  of  Ihe 
history  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company,  shortly  to  be  published  under  Ihe  title  of  "  The  Great 

*^  who  held  in  the 
year  1 684  the  post  of 
Ambassador  Extra- 
ordinary of  King 
Charles  II.  at  the 
Court  of  Versailles, 
was  advised  of 
the  return  to  Paris 
of  the  bushranger 
Radisson  in  these 
terms : 

"  My  Lord  ;  It 
has  just  reached  our 
ears  and  that  of  his 
Roval  Highness  the 
Duke  of  York,  Gov- 
ernor of  the  Hon- 
ourable Hudson's 
Bay  Company,  that 
the  person  who  has 
caused  all  the  recent 
trouble  in  the  Hud- 
son's Bay  regions 
whereby  our  mer- 
chants have  suffered 
so  much  at  the 
hands  of  the  French, 
is  at  this  moment  in 

Paris.       As    it    is    ■«-""**"""""'""'"<"•'"''""''■"■''■>-■ 
much  in  the  inter-  piehre  esprit  radisson. 

ests  of  the  nation  as 

of  the  company  that  there  should  be  no  vinced  from  his  previous  conduct  that 
repetition  of  these  encroachments  and  it  matters  little  to  Mr.  Radisson  under 
disturbances  it  might  be  advantageous  whose  standard  he  serves,  and  that, 
for  your  Lordship  to  see  this  Mr.  Radis-  besides,  he  is  secretly  well-disposed  to- 
son  who,  it  is  believed,  could  be  ward  us,  and  this  in  spite  of  his  late 
brought  over  again  to  our  service  if  be  treacherous  exploits  which  have  given 
■were  so  entreated  by  your  Lordship.  great  offence  to  the  nation  and  damage 
His  Royal  Highness,  together  with  the       to  the  Company." 

other  Honourable  partners,    are    con-  This  private  note  was  signed  by  Sir 


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John  Hayes  and  Mr.  Young  on  be- 
half of  the  company.  On  its  receipt 
by  Lord  Preston,  he  at  once  sent 
an  emissary,  Captain  Godey,  to  seek 
out  Radisson  and  make  overtures 
to  him.  On  the  third  floor  of  a  house 
in  the  Faubourg  St.  Antoine,  sur- 
rounded by  a  number  of  his  relations 
and  boon  companions,  the  dual 
traitor  was  discovered,  deeply  engaged 
in  drinking  healths  and  in  retailing  his 
adventures  to  the  applause  of  an  ap- 
preciative circle.  Upon  the  walls  and 
mantelpiece  of  the  apartment  and 
such  meagre  furniture  as  it  boasi.ed, 
were  disposed  numerous  relics  and 
trophies,  bespeaking  a  thirty  years' 
career  in  the  Transatlantic  wilderness. 

"Radisson  himself,"  remarks  Godey, 
"was  app;irel1ed  more  tike  a  savage 
than  a  Christian.  His  black  hair,  just 
touched  with  grey,  hung  in  a  wild  pro- 
fusion about  his  bare  neck  and  shoul- 
ders. He  showed  a  swart  complexion, 
seamed  and  pitted  by  frost  and  expos- 
ure in  a  rigorous  climate.  A  huge 
scar,  wrought  by  the  tomahawk  of  a 
drunken  Indian,  disfigured  his  left 
cheek.  His  whole  costume  was  sur- 
mounted by  a  wide  collar  of  marten's 
skin;  his  feet  were  adorned  by  buck- 
skin moccasins.  In  his  leather  belt 
was  sheathed  a  long  knife. "  Such  was 
the  picture  presented  by  this  uncouth, 
adventurous  Huguenot,  not  merely 
in  the  seclusion  of  his  own  lodgings, 
but  to  the  polished  and  civilized  folk 
of  Paris  of  the  seventeenth  century. 
What  were  the  projects  harbour- 
ed in  this  indomitable  man's  mind  ? 
In  spite  of  his  persistent  intrigues  it  is 
to  be  doubted  if  he,  any  more  than 
M^dard  Chouart  des  Groseilliers,  was 
animated  by  more  than  a  desire  to 
pursue  an  exciting  and  adventurous 
career.  Habitually  holding  out  for  the 
best  terms,  he  does  not  appear  to  have 
saved  money  when  it  was  acquired,  but 
spent  it  freely.  When  he  died  he  was 
in  receiptor  a  pension  from  the  Com- 
piiny,  So  far  insufficient  to  provide  for 
his  manner  of  living  that  they  were 
forced  to  pay  his  remaining  debts. 

Unabashed  by  the  surroundings  thus 
presented  to  him,   Captain  Godey  an- 

nounced himself,  shook  hands  with 
the  utmost  cordiality  with  Radtsson, 
and  pleaded  to  be  allowed  to  join  in 
the  convivial  proceedings  then  in  pro- 
gress, Thebetter  to  evince  his  sincer- 
ity,without  further  ceremony  he  accept- 
ed and  drank  as  full  a  bumper  of  bad 
brandy  and  applauded  with  as  much 
heartiness  as  any  man  of  the  party,  the 
truly  astonishing  tales  of  their  host. 

Godey,  was  the  last  of  the  guests  to 

"  Look  you,"  said  he,  when  he  and 
Radisson  were  alone  together,  "you, 
monsieur,  are  a  brave  man,  and  it 
does  not  become  the  brave  to  harbour 
vengeance.  Nor  does  it  become 
a  brave  nation  to  think  hardly 
of  any  man  because  of  his  bravery, 
even  though  that  nation  itself  be  a  suf- 
ferer. You  know,"  he  pursued,  "  what 
is  said  about  you  in  England  ?  " 

Radisson  interrupted  his  guest  by 
protesting  with  suspicious  warmth  that 
he  neither  knew  nor  cared  anything 
about  such  a  matter. 

"  It  is  said,  then,"  answered  Godey, 
"that  you  have  been  a  traitor  to  the 
king,  and  that  there  is  no  authority  or 
defence  for  your  conduct.  You  and 
Groseilliers,  whilst  professing  friend- 
ship for  the  EnglishCompany  have  done 
them  great  injury,  and  endangered  the 
peace  between  the  two  crowns." 

To  this  Radisson  made  rejoinder  : 

"  I  am  sorry  ;  but  all  that  I  and  my 
brother-in-law  have  done,  is  to  be  laid 
at  the  door  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Com- 
pany. We  wished  honestly  to  serve 
them,  but  they  cast  us  away  as  being  no 
longer  useful,  when  now  they  see  what 
it  is  they  have  done,  and  how  foolishly 
they  have  acted  in  listening  to  the 
counsels  of  Governor  Bridgar.  We 
really  bear  them  no  ill-will,  neither 
the    company   nor    his    Royal    High- 

*ln  "  RadissOD'H  Relation"  there  occurs 
the  following'  passagre  : 

"  I  acknowledge  the  disappointment  1  felt 
a(  being  obliged  to  leave  (he  English  service 
on  account  of  the  ill-trca(ment  1  had  received 
and  that  I  would  not  be  sorry  to  reliim,  being 
in  a.  beUer  position  than  before  lo  render  ser- 
vice lo  the  king  and  nation  if  justice  were 
done  me  and  my  services  recognized." 

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The    gallant   emissary  reported  the 
tenor    of  this    conversation    forthwith 
to  his    master,  and    both    were  agreed 
as  to  the  sort  of  man  they  had  to  deal 
with.     Godey  expressed  himself  con- 
vinced that  there  would   be   little  diffi- 
culty in  inducing  Radisson  to  return  to 
the  Company's  service.  On  this  advice 
Preston    at    once    wrote    off    to  Mr. 
Young  telling  him  not  to  further  press 
the  Company's  memorial  to  the  king, 
nor  lo  seek 
to  have  the 
F  r  e  n  c  h 
court     take 

wrong  s 
done  the 
English  in- 

"  Radisson 
has  done 
this  thing 
out  of  his 
own  head, 
and  he  is 
the  one  man 
indo  it. 



learn,  well- 
disposed  to 
and  there  is 
no  reason  if 
proper  over- 
tures be 
made    him. 

why      he  prince 

should    not 

do  more  for       /-™-.  iht  p^-Mi^,^  «/  sir  p^er  i.. 
the  English 

interests  in  that  region  than  he  has  yet 

At  the  same  time  La  Barre,  the 
French  governor,  was  urged  to  make 
the  most  strenuous  efforts  to  retain  the 
advantages  gained  for  the  French  by 
the  two  adventurers.  A  royal  des- 
patch of  August  5th,  1683.  and  sign- 
ed by  Louis    himself,  runs  as  follows: 

"  [    recommend  you  to   prevent  the 
English    as     much    as    possible  from 
establishing    themselves   in  Hudson's 
Bay,  possession  whereof  was  taken  in 
my  name  several   years  ago  ;  and  as 
Colonel  d'Uoguent,*  appointed  Gover- 
nor of  New  York  by  the  King  of  Eng- 
land,  has    had    precise  orders  on  the 
part  of  the  said   king  to  maintain  good 
correspondence  with  us  and  carefully 
to  avoid  whatever   may  interrupt  it,    I 
doubt      not 
the        diffi- 
culties   you 
have  exper- 
ienced   will 
cease       for 
the  future." 
Louis  was 
by  no  means 
desirous  of 
the  position 
of  his  fellow 
over        the 
co  m  fort- 
able.        He 
was  dispos- 
ed  to  yield 
in   a    small 
his  own  way 

the  large 
ones.  Had 
yielded      to 

Ri'pERT.  tions  about 

Port  Nelson 

y  in  HTlixtn's  Hay  Hcuje.   Lmdm.         he  WOuld 

have  given 
great  offence  to  his  brolher  the  Duke 
of  York.  Indeed,  there  is  little  doubt 
that  had  the  Company  not  boasted 
members  of  such  distinction  or  the 
patronage  of  royalty,  the  French 
would  have  at  this  juncture  forced 
their   demands    and    overwhelmed  the 



English  possession.  Radisson  appears 
to  have  got  wind  of  the  situation  and 
this  was,  perhaps,  to  him  a  greater 
argument  for  returning  to  the  service 
of  the  power  likely  to  be  most  perman- 
ent in  Hudson's  Bay.  He,  however, 
hung  about  idle  in  Paris  for  some 
weeks  in  a  state  of  indecision.  Had 
M.  de  Seignely  exerted  his  full  powers 
of  persuasion,  he  might  have  induced 
our  bushranger  to  remain  in  the  ser- 
vice of  Louis.  But  no  such  induce- 
ment was  offered.  There  is  some 
reason  to  believe  that  M.  de  Seignely 
undervalued  Radisson  ;  but  in  any 
case  the  apathy  of  the  court  influenced 
his  actions. 

The  bushranger  wa<!,  on  the  other 
hand, ex- 
horted to 
return  to 
his  first 
m  e  n  t 
with  the 


he  arrived  at  this  decision  hejis^found 
writing  to  the  French  Minister  de- 
manding a  certain  grant  in  the  north- 
west of  Canada  as  an  alternative  to 
a  fornier  proposal  that  "  in  con- 
sideration of  his  former  discoveries, 
voyages  and  services  he  should  be 
given  every  fourth  beaver,  trapped  or 
otherwise  caught  in  those  territories."' 
M.  de  Seignely  had  no  suspicion  of 
the  depth  of  Radisson's  duplicity.  The 
minister  thought  him  "a  vain  man, 
much  given  to  boasting,  who  could  do 
much  harm,  and  had  therefore  best 
have  his  vanity  tickled  at  home," 

Up  to  the  very  eve  of  his  departure, 

April  24,  1684,  he  is  seen  to  be  a  daily 

attendant  on  the  minister  or  his  subor- 


the      De- 

of  Marine 
and  Com- 
He  is  not 
:  with  an 
;  audience; 
but  when 

to  speaks 
of  fitting 
out      and 

pro  posed 

he  1 


receive  m 

England  from  his  Majesty,  fiom  his 
Royal  Highness,  from  the  Company, 
and  from  the  nation  "every  sort  of 
good  treatment  and  entire  satisfact- 
ion." The  Duke's  especial  protection 
ivas  also  guaranteed.  Our  not  too 
punctilious  hero  at  length  made  up  his 
mind  as  to  the  course  he  would  pursue. 

"  1  yielded,"  says  he,  "  to  these 
solicitations  and  determined  to  go  to 
England  forever,  and  so  strongly  bind 
myself  to  his  Majesty's  service,  and  to 
th;it  of  those  interested  in  the  nation, 
that  no  other  cause  could  ever  detach 
me  from  it." 

But  in  order  that  he  might  have  an 
excuse  for  his  conduct,  the  very  day  that 

»Nv.  ping  ves- 

sels for 
trade  on  voyages  similar  to  those  he 
had  already  undertaken.  His  naivete, 
to  use  no  harsher  term,  is  remarkable. 

"In  order,"  says  he,  "that  they 
should  not  suspect  anything  by  my 
sudden  absence,  I  told  them  I  was 
obliged  to  take  a  short  trip  into  the 
country  on  friendly  family  matters.  / 
myself  made  good  use  of  this  time  to  go 
to  London." 

He  arrived  in  the  English  capital  on 
the  loth  of  May,  and  immediately  paid 
his  respects  to  Mr.  Young.  The  project 
for  regaining  possession  of  York  Fac- 
tory was  canvassed.  Radisson  estimat- 
ed that  there  would  be  between  fifteen 
and  twenty  thousand    beaver  skins  in 

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the  hands  of  his  nephew,  awaiting 
shipment.  The  partners  appeared 
more  than  satisfied,  and  Radisson  met 
with  a  most  cordial  reception.  He  was 
assured  that  the  company  had  entire 
confidence  in  him,  and  that  their  great- 
est regret  was  that  there  had  been  any 
misunderstanding  between  them.  They 
would,  it  was  declared  on  their  behalf, 
make  all  amends  in  their  power. 

For  a  few  weeks  the  Hudson's  Bay 
bushranger  found  himself  a  Hon.  He 
was  presented  to  the  king  in  the  course 
of  a  levee.  Charles  listened  with  the 
very  greatest  assumption  of  interest  to 

law.  He  was  not  wont  to  dress  so 
when  he  was  last  here,  but  he  has  got 
him  a  new  coat  with  much  lace  upon 
it,  which  he  wears  with  his  leather 
breeches  and  shoes.  His  hair  is  a  per- 
fect tangle.  It  is  said  he  has  made  an 
excellent  fortune  for  himself." 

After  a  number  of  conferences  with 
the  partners,  Radisson  finally  depart- 
ed from  Gravesend  on  May  17,  Three 
ships  set  sail,  that  in  which  Radisson 
was  embarked  being  named  "  The 
Happy  Return."  The  elements  being 
favourable,  the  little  fleet  reached  the 
Strails  more  speedily  than  usual.     The 

Rrfyadnced /ram  h 


the  adventurer's  account  of  himself, 
and  to  his  asseverations  of  loyalty  and 
good  will.  Radisson  in  the  evening 
was  taken  to  the  play-house  in  the 
suite  of  his  Royal  Highness,  and  there 
by  his  bizarre  attire  attracted  almost 
as  much  attention  amongst  the  audience 
as  (he  play  itself. 

"  To  the  Duke's  Play-house,"  writes 
John  Selwyn  to  his  wife,  "where  Radis- 
son, the  American  fur-hunter,  was  in  the 
Royal  box.  Never  was  such  a  com- 
bination of  French,  English  and  In- 
dian savage  as  Sir  John  Kirke's  son-in- 

■  rrsuleitre  al  ihr  Red  Khxr  Colimy  iSao-j" 

chief  figure  of  this  expedition,  who  had 
never  borne  a  part  in  any  joint  enter- 
prise without  being  animated  by  jeal- 
ousy and  distrust,  found  here  ample 
scope  for  the  exercise  of  his  characler- 
istic  vices.  During  nearly  the  entire 
period  of  the  voyage  he  evinced  a  per- 
petual and  painful  apprehension  that 
one  of  the  other  ships  carrying  officials 
and  servants  of  the  company  would, 
with  malicious  intentions,  arrive  before 

His  first  concern  on  awaking  in  the 
morning  was  to    be    assured   that  the 

:y  Google 


■  ■'/'    \''-'tl: 

-*i  ■" 


/  / 

■    •'    -W*       !.'■-' 

•■-  *   t 


'-  ''-"T 

/        K  ■■ 

'.  'V* 

,■■'■          ,.'*■'          " 


'    1       / 

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■*i^'     / ' 

Yojtx  riwr. 


M'  1  *' 






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reached     contrary      winds. 




Rr^raducfd /n,H  at  old  r^Mt-.V  "\  Ribami  ■•  SU 

companion  vessels  were  in  sight,  and 
although  the  "Happy  Return"  was 
the  most  sluggish  sailor  of  the  trio, 
yet  to  such  good  purpose  were  ptied 
the  bushranger's  energies  and  prom- 
ises that  her  commander's  seamanship 
made  her  a  capital  match  for  the  others. 
But  just  before  their  destination  was 

brought  about 
a  separation,  and   Radisson 
began  to  be  assailed  more 
than  ever  by  the  fear   that 
the  English  servants  would 
arrive  on  the  ground,  over- 
whelm his  nephew  and  the 
other  French  without  his  as- 
sistance, and  thus  frustrate 
all   his    plans    for  claiming 
sole  credit.     And  in  truth 
this    fear  was   very    nearly 
justified.      Twenty  leagues 
from  Port  Nelson  the  ship 
got  blocked  amidst  the  mas- 
ses   of  ice,    and   progress, 
except    at    a    raft's    pace, 
became  out  of  the  question. 
In  this  dilemma,    Radisson 
demanded  of  the  captain  a 
small  boat  and  seven  men. 
His  request  being  granted, 
'ran  Kni-        '*  **^  launched,  and  after 
undergoing       forty-eight 
hours'  fatigue,  without  rest 
or  sleep,  the  entrance  to  Nelson  River 
was  reached.    Imagine  Radisson's  sur- 
prise, as  well  as  that  of  his  compan- 
ions, on  beholding  two  ships  at  anchor, 
:  of  which  a  complete  stranger 
floated  the  Royal  Standard  of 

to  the 


English  frigate  which  had 
entered  at  Port 
Nelson.  The  other 
ship  was  the  "  Al. 
ert,"  commanded 
byCaptain  Outlaw, 
having  brought  out 
the  company's  new 
governor,  William 
Phipps,     the    pre- 

Radisson  boldly 
headed  his  boat  for 
this  vessel,  and 
when  he  drew  near, 
perceived  Bridgar's 
successor,  with  all 
his  people  in  arms 
on  the  quarter- 
deck.    The  Gover- 

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instantly  demanded  to  know  who  Radis- 
son  was.  Upon  his  makings  himself  and 
his  allegiance  known,  they  decided  to 
permit  him  to  board  the  Company's 
ship.  The  bushranger  first  made  it  his 
care  to  be  informed  how  the  land  lay, 
and  he  was  inwardly  rejoiced  to  learn 
that  the  Governor  and  his  men  had  not 
dared  to  land  out  of  fear  of  the  French 
and  Indians,  who  were  considered 
hostile  to  the  English  interests.  This 
was  precisely  the  situation  Radisson 
most  desired  ;  a  thought  seems  to  have 
struck  him  that  after  all,  his  nephew, 
Chouart,  might  prove  intractable,  and 
by  no  means  so  easily  woo  over  as  he 
had  anticipated.  It  therefore  behooved 
him  to  act  with  adroitness  and  circum- 
spection. Taking  with  him  two  men, 
Radisson  proceeded  up  country  in  the 
direction  of  the  abandoned  York  Fac- 
tory, hourly  hoping  that  they  might 
discover  something,  or  at  least  th?y 
should  make  someone  hear  or  see  a 
friendly  In'  ian  by  firing  musket  shots 
or  making  a  smoke.  The  attempt  was 
not  fruitless,  as  he  tells  us,  for  after 
a  while  they  perceived  ten  canoes  with 
Indians  coming  down  the  river.  At 
first,  he  says,  "1  thought  some 
Frenchmen  might  be  with  them,  whom 
my  nephew  might  have  sent  to  discover 
who  the  new  arrivals  were."  Upon 
this  supposition  Radisson  severed  him- 
self from  his  comrades  and  going  to 
meet  the  savages  he  made  the  usual 
signs  to  them  from  the  bank,  which 
the  Indians  at  first  seemed  to  respond 
to  in  no  amiable  spirit.  Albeit,  on  ad- 
dressing them  in  their  own  tongue, 
he  was  immediately  recognized,  the  In- 
dians testifying  by  shouts  and  playful 
postures  to  their  joy  at  his  arrival.  He 
quickly  learned  from  them  that  his 
nephew  and  the  other  Frenchmen  were 
above  the  rapids,  four  leagues  from 
the  place  where  they  then  were.  They 
had  expected  Groseilliers  would  ac- 
company Radisson,  and  when  they  ex- 
pressed surprise  that  this  was  not  the 
case,  Radisson  did  not  scruple  to  tell 
them  that  Groseilliers  awaited  him  at 
a  short  dii 

"  But  what,"  asked  Radisson,  "  are 
you   doing   here?'    What  brings   you 

into  this   part  of  the   country  and  in 
such  numbers  ?  " 

The  savage  leader's  sudden  confusion 
betrayed  him  to  Radisson.  The  cir- 
cumstance of  the  Indians  voluntarily 
seeking  trade  with  the  English  greatly 
simplified  the  situation. 

"  Look  you,"  said  he  heartily,  at  the 
same  time  calling  to  Captain  Geyer, 
who  was  in  ambush  hard  by,  "  I  am 
glad  to  find  you  seeking  trade  with  the 
English,  I  have  made  peace  with  the 
English  for  the  love  of  our  Indian 
brothers  ;  you,  they  and  I  are  to  be 
henceforth  only  one.  Embrace  us 
therefore  in  token  of  peace  ;  this 
(pointing  to  Geyer)  is  your  new  brother. 
Go  immediately  to  your  son  at  the  fort 
yonder  and  carry  him  these  tidings  and 
the  proofs  of  peace.  Tell  him  to  come 
and  see  me  at  this  place,  while  the 
others  will  wait  for  me  at  the  mouth  of 
the  river." 

It  should  be  mentioned  that  the  chief 
of  this  band  had  previously  announced 
himself  as  young  Chouart's  sire,  ac- 
cording to  tlie  Indian  cu.stom.  He 
now  readily  departed  on  his  mission. 

Radisson,  as  may  be  imagined,  pass- 
ed an  anxious  night.  The  sun  had 
been  risen  some  hours  before  his  eyes 
were  gladdened  by  the  sight  of  a  canoe 
in  which  he  descried  Chouart.  The 
young  man's  countenance  wore,  as  well 
it  might,  an  expression  of  profound 
amazement  ;  and  at  first  hardly  the 
bare  civilities  of  relatio^^hip  passed 
between  the  pair.  Chouart  waited 
patiently  for  his  unrle  to  render  an  ex- 
planation of  the  news  which  had  reach- 
ed him.  Silently  and  slowly  they  walk- 
ed together,  and  after  a  time  ihe  prince 
of  liars,  traitors,  adventurers  and  bush- 
rangers began  his  account  of  his  posi- 

Radisson  states  that  his  nephew  im- 
mediately acquiesced  in  his  scheme.  A 
memoir  penned  in  1702,  the  year  of 
Radisson's  death,  by  M.  Earthier  of 
Quebec  asserts  that  the  young  man 
received  with  the  utmost  disgust  and 
flatly  declined  to  entertain  his  re- 
lative's proposals.  He  expressed  on 
the  other  hand  the  greatest  grief  on 
hearing  the  news  ;  for  he  had  begun  to 

Digitized  by  Google 


believe  that  it  was  through 
their  efforts  that  the  domin- 
ion of  the  king  had  been 
extended  in  that  region. 
Now  it  appeared  that  this 
labour  had  all  been  in  vain. 
It  was  only  his  love  for  his 
mother,    Radisson's  sifter, 

which    prevented    : 


-ebellion    on    the    part 
Chouart    against    the   pro- 
posed treachery. 

No  rupture  took  place; 
the  stronger  and  more 
crafty  spirit  prevailed. 
Chouart  surrendered  on  the 
following  day  his  command 
of  the  fort.  He  had,  he 
complained  expected  a  far 
different  fate  for  the  place 
and  his  men.  The  tattered 
old  fleur  de  lis  standard 
brought  by  the  St.  Anne's  captain  from 
Quebec  was  lowered  and  the  English 
emblem  with  the  device  of  the  com- 
pany, run  up  in  its  stead.  All  the  forces 
were  assembled  and  amidst  cheers  for 
King  Charles  and  the  Honourable  Ad- 
venturers, the  Company's  Governor 
took  formal  possession. 

But  the  French  bushrangers  and  sail- 
ors watched  these  proceedings  with  mel- 
ancholy dissatisfaction,  not  perhaps  as 
much  from  patriotic  motives  as  from 
the  frailty  o{  their  own  tenure.  They 
could  no  longer  be  assured  of  a  live- 
lihood amongst  so  many  English,  who 
bore    themselves    with    so    haughty    a 

Radisson  proceeded  to  make  an  in- 
ventory of  all  the  skins  on  hand,  to- 
g-ether with  all  those  concealed  in  caches 
in  the  woods.  The  results  showed  239 
packages  of  beaver,  or  about  12,000 
skins  together  with  merchandise  suffi- 
cient to  barter  for  seven  or  eight  thou- 
sand more.  Instructions  were  now 
g-iven  by  Radisson,  the  Governor  re- 
maining passive,  to  have  all  these  goods 
taken  in  canoes  to  the  ships. 

It  now  only  remained  for  the  bush- 
ranger to  accomplish  only  one  other 
object  before  setting  sail  with  the  cargo 
for  England.  Radisson  speaks  of  him- 
self as    having    a  secret   commission, 

but  I  can  find  no  authority  for  his 
statement.  It  involved  the  reten- 
tion in  the  company's  service  of  his 
nephew  and  the  other  Frenchmen,  and 
even  assuming  that  Radisson  were 
armed  with  any  such  instructions,  the 
plan  was  not  likely  to  enjoy  the  ap- 
proval of  Governor  Phipps  who,  if  he 
were  at  the  outset  of  his  term  of  office, 
determined  upon  any  one  thing,  it  was 
that  Port  Nelson  should  be  cleared  of 
Frenchmen.  Exactly  how  this  was  to 
be  transacted  was  not  quite  clear, 
especially  as  there  was  yet  no  open 
rupture  between  the  two  authorities. 
But  for  such  a  rupture  they  had  not 
long  to  wait  They  were  destined  on 
the  very  eve  of  his  departure  to  be  in- 
volved  in  a  quarrel. 

Some  years  before  an  Assiniboine 
chief  named  Ka-chou-touay  had  taken 
Radisson  to  his  bosom  and  adopted 
him  as  his  sen  with  all  the  customary 
ceremonies.  This  formidable  chief  who 
had  been  at  war  with  a  neighbouring 
tribe  at  the  time  of  his  adopted  son's 
arrival  in  the  country,  now  put  in  an 
appearance.  Instead  of  the  joy  Radis- 
son expected  it  was  with  reproaches 
that  he  was  greeted.  Ka-chou-touay 
informed  him  that  a  brother  chief 
of  his,  named  La  Barb^,  with  one  of 
his  sons  had  been   killed  while   expos- 




tulating  with  a  party  of  English.     The 

consequence!!  of  this  rash  action  might 
be  so  grave  that  Radisson  felt  it  to  be 
his  duty  to  resort  to  the  Governor  and 
demand  that  his  servants  should  be 
punished  for  the  crime,  or  else  he  would 
not  be  answerable  for  the  consequences. 
The  Governor  does  not  appear  to  have 
taken  Radisson's  demand  in  good  part, 
declining  altogether  to  intervene  in  the 
matter.  The  other  now  proceeded  to 
commands  and  threats.  He  asserted 
that  as  long  as  he  remained  in  the 
country  the  Governor  was  his  subor- 
dinate, which  greatly  angered  that 
official  and  high  words  passed. 

The  task  the  Governor  had  set  him- 
self was  by  no  means  easy,  especially 
if  he  wished  to  avoid  bloodshed.  But 
the  plan  of  overpowering  and  disarm- 
ing the  French  was  finally  accomplished 
through  strategy.  All  were  escorted 
aboard  the  ship,  even  to  Chouart  him- 
self, and  on  the  fourth  of  September 
sail  was  set. 

On  this  voyage  Radisson's  state  of 
mind  rivalled  that  which  he  had  ex- 
perienced when  outward  bound.  His 
late  anxietyiobe  the  first  upon  the  scene 
at  Port  Nelson  was  paralleled  now  by  his 
desire  to  be  first  in  London.  If,  happily, 
the  company  should  first  hear  an  ac- 
count of  what  had  transpired  from  him- 
self he  ftfit  convinced  full  measure  of 
justice  would  be  done  him.  If,  on  the 
other  hand,  Governor  Phipps'  relation 
were  first  received  there  was  no  know- 
ing how  much  prejudice  might  be 
raised  against  him. 

Great  as  was  his  impatience  he 
managed  to  hide  it  with  adroitness,  so 
that  none  save  his  nephew  suspected 
the  intention  he  shortly  executed.  The 
captain,  crew  and  company's  servants 
left  the  ship  leisurely  at  Portsmouth. 
Those  going  up  to  London  lingered  for 
the  coach,  but  not  so  with  Radisson, 
who  instantly  made  hts  way  to  the 
post-house,  where  he  hired  a  second- 
rate  steed,  mounted  it  and  without  the 
courtesy  of  an  adieu  to  his  late  com- 
rades, broke  into  a  gallop,  hardly 
restrained  until  London  bridge  was 

His  arrival    took    place  close  upon 

To  be  Continued. 

midnight,  but  late  as  was  the  hour  he 
took  no  thought  of  securing  lodging  or 
of  apprizing  his  wife  of  his  advent- 
He  spurred  on  his  stumbling  horse 
to  the  dwelling  of  Mr.  Young,  in 
Wood  Street,  Cheapside.  The  hon- 
ourable adventurer  had  retired  for  the 
night,  but,  nevertheless,  in  gown  and 
night-cap  welcomed  Radisson  with 
great  cordiality.  He  listened,  we  are 
told,  with  the  greatest  interest  and 
satisfaction  to  the  bushranger's  tale, 
garnished  with  details  of  his  own  mar- 
vellous prowess  and  zeal  for  the  com- 
pany. Nor,  perhaps,  was  Radisson 
less  satisfied  when,  on  attaining  his 
own  lodging,  he  pondered  on  the 
day's  exploits.  He  slumbered  little, 
and  at  eleven  o'clock  Young  was  an- 
nounced, and  was  ushered  in,  declaring 
that  he  had  already  been  to  Whitehall 
and  apprized  the  Court  of  the  good 
news.  His  Majesty  and  his  Royal 
Highness  had  expressed  a  wish  to  see 
Radisson,  the  hero  of  these  great 
doings,  and  Young  was  accordingly 
brought  to  escort  the  bushranger  into 
the  Royal  presence.  It  was  a  triumph, 
but  a  short-lived  one.  Radisson  had 
hardly  left  the  precincts  of  the  Court,  his 
ears  still  ringing  with  the  praises  of 
King  and  courtiers,  than  the  Deputy- 
Governor,  Mr.  Dering,  received  Phipps' 
account  of  the  affair,  which  was  almost 
as  unfair  to  Radisson  and  the  part  he 
had  played  in  the  re-capture  of  Port 
Nelson,  as  Radisson's  own  account  was 

On  the  receipt  of  the  report,  a  Gen- 
eral Court  of  the  Adventurers  was  held 
on  September  26th.  By  the  majority  of 
members  the  bushranger  was  hardly 
likely  to  be  accorded  full  justice,  for 
great  offence  had  been  given  by  his 
presentation  at  Court  and  the  extremely 
informal  manner  of  his  arrival.  Despite 
the  friendliness  of  Hayes,  Young  and 
several  other  partners,  Radisson  was 
suspended  from  any  active  employment 
in  the  Company's  service.  Not  long 
afterwards,  I  find  him  in  receipt  of  a 
pension  of  ten  pounds  a  month  from  the 
Company,  which  he  continued  to  enjoy 
for  many  years  to  the  time  of  his  death 
at  Islington,  in  1702. 

:y  Google 



EACH  spring  many  birds  return  from 
far  Central  America  to  our  north 
land  where  they  were  born  and  where 
they  will  this  season  raise  their  own 
young.  The  marvellous  instinct  which 
guides  them  in  their  great  immigration 
has  been  a  matter  of  wonder  and  con- 
■euture  to  men  from  time  immemorial. 
We  know  now  nearly  where  each 
species  goes  to  spend  the  summer  and 
winter,  the  time  of  their  arrival  at  their 
destinations  and  at  many  points  on 
their  road,  the  routes  by  which  they 
travel,  and  their  rate  of  travelling. 
All  this  has  been  carefully  observed 
and  recorded  ;  but  how  they  are  guided 
on  their  course  and  why  they  should 
leave  the  far  south  and  pass  over  what 
would  appear  to  be  suitable  localities 
to  reach  the  far  north  merely  for  nest- 
ing purposes  is  a  still  unsolved  mystery. 

Two  of  our  familiar  birds  whose 
coming  is  eagerly  looked  for  are  the 
robin  and  the  blue  bird.  They  always 
arrive  by  the  end  of  the  first  week  in 
March.  If,  however,  the  weather 
should  be  mild  the  pioneers  may  reach 
us  by  the  end  of  February.  These  are 
both  very  hardy  birds  whose  winter 
distribution  is  governed  by  the  food 
supply  rather  than  the  temperature. 
The  bulk  of  the  robins  winter  in 
Louisiana  and  in  eastern  and  southern 
Texas  ;  but  some  stay  all  through  their 
summer  range  wherever  they  find  a 
sufficiency  of  berries  hanging  to  the 
trees  through  the  winter.  Even  in 
southern  Ontario  some  few  always  re- 
main wherev«r  they  can  find  shelter 
and  feed.  At  this  season  they  are 
g-enerally  very  subdued  and  only  show 
themselves  in  the  open  on  very  fine 
days.  It  is  these  winter  birds  whose 
appearance    in  January  and   February 

generally  produces  the  "early  robin" 
paragraph  in  our  daily  papers.  These 
birds  do  not  fare  so  well  as  those  that 
go  south.  Their  plumage  is  always 
noticeably  dingy,  the  red  breast  is  de- 
cidedly bricky,  and  the  black  cap  dull 
and  rusty,  in  marked  contrast  with 
their  southern  friends  whose  Easter 
clothing  has  been  acquired  before  they 

The  earliest  robins  to  arrive  are 
usually  adult  males.  These  are  follow- 
ed about  a  week  later  by  the  main 
body,  and  our  woods,  gardens  and 
orchards  are  then  full  of  them  for  a  few 
days.  But  they  soon  hurry  on  and 
distribute  themselves  over  the  country  ; 
so  that  by  the  first  of  April  the  great 
majority  of  them  have  settled  down 
into  their  summer  quarters.  No  soon- 
er have  they  done  so  than  they  select 
their  nesting  site  and  commence  build- 
ing operations.  I  have  seen  nests 
completed  on  the  23rd  of  April. 

The  nest  is  a  bulky  structure  com- 
posed of  all  sorts  of  material  plastered 
together  with  mud  and  lined  with  dead 
grass.  It  may  be  placed  anywhere. 
I  have  found  them  in  all  sorts  of  places 
from  the  top  of  a  tree  down  to  the 
lowest  rail  of  an  old  snake  fence,  and 
there  seems  to  be  no  particular  desire 
for  concealment  on  the  part  of  the  birds. 
Four  or  five  beautiful  greenish-blue 
eggs  are  laid  and  the  robins  will  pro- 
duce two  broods  each  season. 

Young  robins  appear  to  be  about  the 
most  imbecile  little  creatures  in  the 
feathered  world.  As  soon  as  they 
gain  a  little  strength  in  their  awkward 
baby  legs  they  are  sure  to  climb  up  on 
the  edge  of  the  nest  and  from  there 
topple  over  to  the  ground.  When  this 
occurs  about  our  towns  and  villages 
the  vagrant  cats  grow  sleek.  The 
parent  robins  at  this  period  are  kept  in 

:y  Google 



a  continued  state  of  agitation  and  fuss 
over  their  truants.  No  doubt  they 
mean  well,  but  if  they  would  learn  to  be 
quiet  about  their  troubles  they  would 
find  it  better  for  them.  As  it  is  their 
useless  scolding  and  noise  only  attracts 
attention  to  their  helpless  youngsters 
who  would  be  unnoticed  if  the  old  birds 

From  the  time  the  robins  first  arrive 
until  the  strawberries  are  ripe  they  are 
most  assiduous  in  well  doing.  Their 
food  consisting  entirely  of  insects  and 
such  berries 
as  may  re- 
bushes  from 

When  the 
first  brood 
of  young 
have  attain- 
ed full  size 
and  are  able 
to  supply 
their  own 
wants,  the 
are  also  just 
fit  for  use 
and  the  rob- 
ins soon  find 
it  out  and 
act  accord- 

ago  tho  blue 

hirdwasone  first  hiri>  ov  sp 

of  the  most 

abundant  and  perhaps  the  most  famil- 
iar of  the  birds  that  frequent  our  gar- 
dens and  orchards.  Its  gentle  ways, 
beautiful  plumage  and  charming  song 
rendered  it  a  favourite  everywhere. 
It  had  attained  almost  the  same  de- 
gree of  popularity  and  immunity  from 
persecution  as  the  real  robin  of  Europe, 
but  for  some  reason  it  has  almost  de- 
serted us  lately.  We  see  and  hear  them 
pass  over  us  in  early  spring,  and  they 
)nally    drop    down    and   remain 

with  us  for  a  few  days  if  the  weather  is 
unfavourable  for  travelling,  but  they 
soon  pass  on  again  and  only  a  few  pairs 
remain  to  occupy  the  old  nesting-holes. 
Where  they  go  lo  spend  iheir  summer  1 
have  not  yet  been  able  to  ascertain. 
Their  course  from  Toronto  is  north- 
easterly in  the  spring,  and  in  the  au- 
tumn they  return  from  that  direction 
and  go  south-westerly  from  here,  on  a 
course  about  parallel  with  the  shore  of 
Lake  Ontario. 

The  blue  bird's  average  winter  range 
is  about  the 
same  as  that 
of  the  robin, 
but  it  is  very 
rarely  that 
any  stragg- 
lers are  to  be 
found  north 
of     latitude 


:old  s 


and  none 
ever  stay  in 
Ontar  io. 
They  evi- 
dently re- 
quire a  lar- 
ger propor- 
tion of  insect 
food    at    all 

the  robin, 
and  are, 
the  re  fore, 
obliged  to 
resort  in 
winter  to  the 
south  where 
the    cold     is 

and  the  ground  not  liable  to  be  covered 
with  snow.  They  are  hardy  birds,  how- 
ever, and  when,  as  sometimes  happens 
after  their  arrival  here,  they  meet  with 
severe  weather  and  heavy  snow  storms, 
they  adapt  themselves  to  circumstances 
and  get  what  nourishment  they  can 
from  sumach  berries  and  such  dormant 
insects  as  their  sharp  eyes  may  dis- 
cover about  the  bark  of  trees  in  shel- 

In  the  dayswhen  the  blue  birds  stayed 

:y  Google 


with  us  they  would  build  their  nests  in 
any  hole  or  crevice  about  the  premises 
that  came  handy.     The  deserted  winter 
home  of  the  little  downy  woodpecker 
bored  in  an  old  fence  stake  was  a  favou- 
rite location ;  so  too  was  a  hole  in  an 
apple  tree.      I    have    more    than    once 
leen  the  letter-box  hung  on  a  gate  used. 
These  same  nesting-places  were  occupi- 
ed year  after  year  probably  by  the  same 
pair  of  birds,  or  at  any  rate  one  of  them, 
and  sotameand  confidingwere  they  that 
the    females 
would  allow 
to  be   strok- 
ed while  sit- 
ting, without 
either  fear  or 
The      eggs, 
four   or  five 
in     number, 
are  very  pale 

Young  blue 
birds  are 
very  much 
wiser  than 
young  rob- 
ins and  do 
not  often 
leave  the 
nest  until 
they have ac- 

ab!e  them  to 

avoid      all 

four-footed  ^*''"  coLRTSHip-i 


But  before  leaving    the  nest  they  are 

liable  to  be  destroyed  by  that  nimble 

little  pirate,  the  red  squirrel;  this  little 

beast   is  quite  carnivorous  and  seems 

to   to  be  as  fond  of  young  birds  as  a 

professional  invalid  is  of  spring  chicken. 

A  few  days  after  the  first  robins  and 
blue  birds  have  come  we  shall  see  and 
hear  the  song  sparrow,  the  most  abun- 
dant of  that  targe  class  of  birds  com- 

monly known  throughout  the  country 
as  grey  birds,  but  which  may  be  dis- 
tinguished from  all  the  others,  when  he 
allows  you  a  clear  front  view,  by  the 
dark    blotch     on    the    breast.       While 
these    little  creatures    are  not  by  any 
means  wild,  yet  they  are  unobtrusive 
and   of  secretive  habits.     If  not   too 
closely  approached  they  will  mount  to 
the   topmost   twig   of  a  bush   on   the 
lawn    and    sing;     but    an    unguarded 
movement  will  cause  them  to  drop  like 
a     stone     to 
the     ground 
and  in  a  sec- 
ond they  dis- 
appear      a- 
mong      the 
roots       and 
dead    leaves 
which     they 
closely       re- 
semble,   and 
which     they 
wriggle    and 
twist        like 

A  few  days 
after      the 

scouts  ap- 
pear the  bulk 
of  this  spec 

They  at  once 
select  their 
quarters  and 

settle-  their 
love  affairs. 
During     the 

HE  SONCi  SPARROW.  j-^^^,    Jays     of 

courtship  the 
birds  are  more  easily  observed  than  at 
any  other  time.  They  then  lay  aside 
their  hiding  propensities  and  the  little 
males  in  their  anxiety  to  please  their 
demure  brown  sweethearts  will  go 
through  all  sorts  of  antics,  frequently 
springing  up  into  the  air  on  quivering 
wings  and  singing  most  ecstatically. 
This  is  soon  over  and  the  mated  pairs 
quiet  down  to  regular  house-keeping 
after  bird  fashion. 

The    nest    is    built    usually   on    the 

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ground  under  a  tuft  of  grass  or  some 
slight  shelter.     One  I  found  last  year 
was  in  an  old  lobster  can  that  had  been 
used  as  a  paint    pot  and   which  was 
lying  on  its  side  amongst  some  weeds. 
The  eggs   are  four  or  five  in  number, 
greenish  white,  speckled  all  over  with 
greyish  brown  ;  but  they  vary  a  good 
deal  both  in  ground   colour  and  mark- 
ings.    Two  or  even  three  broods  are 
raised  in  a  season.      On  one  occasion 
I  found  the  same  nest  used  in  raising 
two  broods. 
This  is  very 
unusual  with 
this  species. 
In  the  early 
part   of   the 
season   that 

causes  the 
loss  of  the 
first  brood 
of  its  young. 
Later  in  the 
season  when 
nests  are 
more  plenti- 
ful the  cow- 
bird  distri- 
butes its  fa- 
vours pretty 
generally  a- 
mong  all  our 

small     birds  house  hintlnc— t 

and  probab- 
ly destroys  more  useful  bird   life  than 
all  other  enemies  put  together. 

Song  sparrows  do  not  go  very  far 
south  to  spend  the  winter,  their  centre 
of  abundance  during  that  season  being 
Southern  Illinois,  Missouri,  Eastern 
Kansas  and  Texas.  I  have  occasion- 
ally found  a  few  remaining  over  in 
sheltered  places  in  Southern  Ontario; 
but  as  they  haunt  the  very  thickest 
of  weed  grown  places,  and  are  quiet 
at  this  season,    they  are   easily  over- 

Shortly  after  the  middle  of  March 
the  bronze  grackles,  or  crow  black- 
birds as  they  are  usually  called,  appear 
and  take  possession  of  their  nesting: 
places  in  the  evergreens  about  the  lawn 
or  in  the  rows  of  tall  Lombardy  poplars. 
These  birds  always  build  in  colonies 
and  are  gregarious  at  alt  seasons. 

Although  they  certainly  destroy  a 
large  number  of  insects,  particularly 
of  those  sorts  that  live  undei^round, 
such  as  cut- 
worms, wire- 
worms  and 
the  like,  yet 
they  can 
hardly  be 
considered  as 
desirable  ten- 
ants of  the 
garden.  They 
are  destruc- 
tive to  the 
young  of 
other  birds 
more  valu- 
able than 
and  they  are 
great  fruit 
and  grain  eat- 
ers. It  is  a 
pity  that  their 
evil  deeds 
should  out- 
balance their 
good  quali- 
ties as  they 
are  certainly 
HE  HOL'ss  WREN.  Very beautiful 

The  bronze  and  purple  metallic  lustre 
on  the  feathers  of  the  mature  male  is  not 
surpassed  by  the  colouration  of  any 
bird  except,  perhaps,  by  the  jewel-like 
gorget  of  the  ruby-throated  humming- 
bird. The  peculiar  keel-like  arrange- 
ment of  their  tail  feathers  is  also  very 
graceful  and  quite  unlike  that  of  any 
other  of  our  birds. 

These  birds  build  a  coarse  nest  of 
twigs,  grasses  and  mud,  and  lay  four 
or  five  very  handsome  eggs.  The 
ground  colour  is  a  curious  smoky  blue 


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with  dots  and  irregular  streaks  of  pur- 
plish brown.  They  vary  so  much  that 
hardly  any  two  are  alike. 

The  great  bulk  of  the  grackles  spend 
the  winter  in  Mexico,  but  some  few  are 
said  to  remain  along  the  Mississippi 
River  as  for  north  as  Illinois.  Why 
these  birds  should  require  to  go  further 
south  than  the  robins  and  blue  birds  is 
difficult  to  understand.  They  are  strong 
and  hardy,  and  being  practically  omniv- 
orous, should  be  able  to  obtain  an  ample 
food  supply  where  birds  that  are  more 
particular  tn  their  diet  would  fail  in 
doing  so. 

After  the  arrival  of  the  species  1  have 
mentioned  there  is  generally  a  stop  in 
migration  for  a  few  days  so  far  as  new 
species  are  concerned,  but  the  number 
of  individuals  of  each  of  the  species  that 
have  already  arrived  is  increased  daily. 

About  the  end  of  March  we  generally 
find  our  little  Quaker  friend  the  phcebe 
returned  to  take  possession  of  its  old 
nest,  on  a  beam  in  the  shed,  or  in  some 
out-of-the-way  corner  of  the  buildings. 
This  quietly  attired  flycatcher  is  one  of 
the  most  desirable  of  all  our  feathered 
friends.  Its  appearance  is  not  very 
striking,  but  there  is  a  quiet  neatness 
about  its  olive  grey  coat  and  white 
waistcoat  that  is  very  attractive.  Its 
manners,  too,  are  so  easy  and  so  thor- 
oughbred that  the  bird  has  acquired  a 
popularity  second  only  to  that  of  the 
blue  bird.  Besides  this,  the  bird  is  of 
great  economic  value  in  our  garden. 
Its  food  consists  entirely  ofinsect-s,  the 
most  of  them  being  taken  on  the  wing. 
Amongst  these  insects  so  taken  are 
large  numbers  of  the  moths  which  lay 
eggs  to  produce  the  foliage-eating  cat- 
erpillars ;  and  so  the  capture  of  each 
female  moth  means  the  destruction  at 
one  swoop  of  a  whole  brood    of  these 

The  phcebe  is  one  of  those  birds 
whose  habit  it  is  to  return  year  after 
year  to  the  same  nesting  place.  The 
old  nest  is  added  to  and  repaired  each 
season,  so  that  after  a  time  it  becomes 
quite  a  bulky  structure.  As  I  have  said, 
it  is  generally  placed  on  a  beam  or  some 

projection  of  the  woodwork  either  in 
or  outside  a  building,  no  matter  how 
much  the  place  may  be  frequenled. 
Another  very  favourite  site  is  under  a 
bridge  or  culvert  ;  so  frequently  is 
this  selected  that  I  doubt  if  there  are 
many  bridges  in  our  rural  districts 
without  their  phcebe's  nest. 

The  eggs  of  the  phcebe  are  four  or 
five  in  number  and  quite  white  ;  as  a 
rule,  only  one  brood  is  raised  in  the 

I  am  afraid  that  this  is  one  of  the  birds 
likely  lo  suffer  from  the  introduction  of 
the  European  house  sparrow.  Its  nest 
is  built  of  just  such  material  as  the  spar- 
row prefers  for  his  mattress  ;  and  the 
phcebe  likes  to  occupy  places  about  our 
premises  that  are  easily  accessible  to 
our  emigrant  friend.  The  result  will 
be  that  our  gentle  and  useful  phcebe 
will  have  to  retire  from  the  neighbour- 
hood of  the  aggressive  and  acquisitive 

About  the  end  of  September  the 
phoebes  leave  us  and  start  off  on 
their  journey  to  Mexico,  where  the 
bulk  of  them  spend  the  winter,  a  few 
stragglers  only  remaining  in  favoured 
localities  north  of  that  country. 


Almost  at  the  same  time  that  we 
see  and  hear  the  phcebe  we  may  have 
our  attention  called  to  a  glossy  black 
bird  with  a  rich  chestnut  coloured  head, 
rather  larger  than  the  European  spar- 
row. This  is  the  male  cow-bird,  the 
female  of  which  is  dull,  sooty  black. 
Its  love-song  is  apt  to  remind  one  of 
the  squeals  made  by  the  rusty  wheel 
of  a  wheelbarrow  when  that  useful 
implement  is  being  first  used  after  a 
long  winter's  rest  exposed  to  all 

This  bird  cannot  be  called  properly 
a  bird  of  the  garden  ;  in  fact,  it  is  a 
vagrant,  and  does  not  have  a  home 
anywhere  ;  nor  has  it  any  morals 
worth  mentioning.  Its  food  is  gleaned 
principally  from  the  open  fields,  and 
consists  of  insects  and  seeds  in  about 
equal  proportions  during  the  summer; 
in  the  fall  it  is  a  grain  eater.  But  it  is 
not  with  its    diet   that  we    are    con- 

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cerned  in  the  garden,  but  with  its 
very  reprehensible  habit  of  depositing 
its  eggs  [in    the  nests  of  other  small 

These  creatures  do  not  mate,  neither 
do  they  build  a  nest.  The  female 
seeks  out  the  completed  nest  of  one  of 
the  sparrows,  finches,  thrushes  or 
warblers,  and  in  it  she  deposits  an 
eg^  of  her  own,  and  leaves  it  there  to 
be  hatched  by  the  bird  on  whose  home 
she  has  trespassed.  In  due  course  all 
all  the  eggs 
are  hatched, 
and  then  the 
trouble     be- 

fewdays  the 

lings in  size, 
strength  and 
voracity,  and 
requires,    so 

ages  to  get, 
the  greater 
part  of  the 
food  brought 
by  the  parent 
birds  for  the 
lamily.  This 
results  in  the 

proper  occu- 
pants of  the 
nest  being 
either  crowd- 
ed out  or 
starved     to 


death  by  the 

interloper,  who  then  taxes  to  the  utmost 
all  the  energies  of  its  foster  parents  to 
supply  the  cravings  of  its  ravenous  ap- 
petite. After  the  young  cow  -  bird 
leaves  the  nest  it  still  follows  its  foster 
parents  through  the  trees,  clamouring 
like  a  great  spoiled  baby  for  food.  This 
continues  until  the  cow-bird  has  fully 
developed  its  faculties  (a  slow  process 
in  this  case),  when  it  goes  off  to  join  a 
flock  of  its  real  relations  in  raiding  the 
farmers'  oat  fields. 

These  cow-birds  are  very  abundant, 

and  as  each  one  of  them  has  been 
raised  at  the  cost  of  a  whole  brood  of 
one  of  our  useful  small  birds  it  is  easy 
to  see  that  they  do  a  good  deal  of  in- 
jury to  the  country. 

The  eggs  of  this  bird  are  whitish, 
thickly  covered  with  small  greyish 
brown  dots.  It  is  not  positively  known 
how  many  each  bird  lays  in  a  season, 
but  probably  four  or  live.  I  have  only 
oncefouod  two  ofthem  in  the  same  nest, 
and  I  did  then,  as  I  always  do,  prompt- 
ly destroy 
though  it 
might  have 
been    inter- 

two  young 
would  have 
matters  be- 
tween them. 
The  cow- 
in  theSouth- 
ern  States, 
usually  go- 
ing south  of 
the  State  of 

From  the 
middle  to 
the  end  of 
April  we  are 
usually  visi- 
ted by  the 
kinglets.  These  tiny  little  creatures 
are,  with  the  exception  of  the  hum- 
ming-birds, the  smallest  birds  of  North 
America.  There  are  two  species  of 
them,  the  most  abundant,  both  in 
spring  and  autumn,  being  the  golden- 
crowned  kinglet,  the  other  being  the 
ruby-crowned.  Both  are  olive  green 
above  and  yellowish  white  below,  but 
may  easily  be  distinguished  by  the 
colour  of  the  crown,  which  in  the 
golden-crowned  is  yellow  bordered  by 
black,  while  the   adult   ruby-crowned 

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has  a  partly-concealed  rich  scarlet  patch 
on  the  crown.  In  the  young  this  is 
not  visible,  but  then  the  absence  of 
aoy  colour  will  distinguish  it  from  its 

The  ruby-crowD  is  strictly  a  migrant, 
arriving  here  from  the  southern  borders 
of  the  Southern  Slates,  and  soon  pass- 
ing' on  to  the  coniferous  forests  of  the 
north,  where  it  breeds.  It  usually 
travels  through  this  province  singly; 
small  scattered  parties  occasionally 
drift  along  through  the  woods,  but 
they  are  exceptional.  The  most  notice- 
able feature  about  this  little  bird  is  its 
foud,  ringing  song.  When  first  noticed 
it  seems  hard  to  believe  that  such  a 
volume  of  sound  can  be  produced  from 
such  a  minute  body,  the  notes  being 
almost  as  loud  as  those  of  the  song- 
sparrow.  Besides  this  song,  it  often 
utters  a  sharp,  chiding  note,  somewhat 
like  that  of  one  of  the  wrens. 

The  lit  tie  go  Id  en -crown  resembles  its 
relative  in  its  general  habits,  but  it 
usually  travels  in  small  parties,  and 
does  QOt  appear  to  have  any  musical 
powers  ;  it  is  also  much  hardier  than 
the  ruby-crown,  our  Canadian  winter 
even  having  no  terrors  for  them.  How- 
ever, as  winter  residents  I  will  refer  to 
them  later  on.  They  all  go  north  to 
breed,  and  with  the  other  kinglets  re- 
turn in  October. 


After  the  tenth  of  April,  if  the 
weather  is  fine,  we  may  any  day  ex- 
pect the  first  real  wave  of  migration. 
This  will  bring  a  number  of  new 
species.  In  some  cases  the  main  body 
will  arrive  all  at  once  ;  in  others  only 
the  advance  guard  will  come.  We 
shall  ^et  the  flicker  or  high-holder,  the 
yellow-bellied  woodpecker,  white- 
throated  sparrow,  chipping  sparrow, 
brown  creeper,  house  wren,  white- 
breasted  and  barn  swallows  and  the 
myrtle  warbler. 

Of  these  the  most  familiar  and  one 
of  the  most  useful  is  the  pert  little 
house  wren.  It  returns  regularly  toils 
old  nest  in  the  bird  box  or  any  hole  or 
crevice  into  which  it  can  stuff  its 
apolog-y  for  a  nest.     Then  whilst  Mrs. 

Jenny  is  attending  to  the  arrangement 
of  her  household  affairs  her  husband 
will  devote  his  energies  to  singing  and 
scolding  all  the  four-footed  animals 
that  venture  to  trespass  on  what  he  is 
pleased  to  consider  his  private  hunting 

In  spring  and  early  summer  the 
wren  sings  almost  incessuntly  all  day, 
with  short  intervals  for  refreshment ; 
but  as  the  weather  gets  hot,  he  is 
sileat  from  morning  until  after  sun- 
down. Then  he  makes  up  for  it  by 
singing  all  night  if  the  weather  is  fine 
and  there  is  any  moonlight  at  all. 
Wrens  usually  lay  five  or  six  eggs, 
white  spotted  with  reddish  brown,  and 
sometimes  raise  two  broods  in  the  sea- 

There  are  no  more  industrious  insect 
hunters  than  the  house  wrens,  and  they 
do  their  work  principally  amongst  the 
plants  we  cultivate  so  that  the  benefit 
we  derive  is  direct.  It  is  quite  easy  to 
induce  a  pair  to  take  possession  of  any 
garden  large  enough  to  give  them  a 
hunting  ground  by  providing  them  with 
a  suitable  nesting  box  and  it  will  be 
found  decidedly  profitable  as  well  as 
interesting  to  do  this. 

The  house  wrens  remain  in  Ontario 
until  about  the  middle  of  October 
when  they  move  southward  to  their 
winter  range  in  the  Southern  States. 

The  white -throated  sparrow  is  one 
of  the  few  birds  whose  song  can  be 
rendered  into  words,  but  even  of  this 
song  there  are  several  versions  ;  some 
people  hear  "  Poor  Tom  Peabody, 
Peabody,  Peabody,"  and  call  it  the 
Peabody  bird  ;  others  hear  "  All  day 
whitthng,  whittling,  whittling."  1  pre- 
fer the  version  given  by  Mr.  Van 
Dyke  in  "The  Century"  some  time 
ago.  He  makes  the  bird  say,  "Sweet, 
sweet  Canada,  Canada,  Canada,"  pro- 
nounce Canada  as  the  French  Cana- 
dians do,  and  you  get  the  best  repre- 
sentation of  the  song  that  can  be  given 
in  words.  At  any  rate,  if  the  white- 
throat  does  not  say  this  in  so  many 
words,  that  is  the  meaning  of  his  song, 
and  he  utters  it  because  he  rejoices  !n 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 



having  again  reached  his  home,  the 
place  in  which  he  was  born  and  where 
he  hopes  to  raise  his  own  little  family 
in  the  coming'  season. 

A  very  handsome  bird  is  our  white- 
throat,  quite  the  beau  of  the  sparrow 
tribe.  In  it  he  has  only  two  rivals,  the 
fox  sparrow  and  the  white  crowned  ; 
neither  of  tRem,  however,  quite  equal 
to  him  in  appearance.  The  fox  spar- 
row, though,  is  far  his  superior  as  a 
musician,  while  the  white -crown  has 
no  very  great  pretensions  in  that  direc- 

The  great  majority  of  the  white- 
throats  ^o  north  of  us  to  breed,  but  a 
few  pairs  stop  at  suitable  places  all  the 
way  from  our  southern  border.  I  have 
every  year  found  two  or  three  pairs 
nestling  close  to  the  city  of  Toronto. 

During  the  warm  weather  they  rarely 
sing  ehcept  in  early  morning  and  dur- 
ing the  night,  so  that  as  they  are 
usually  concealed  in  the  rank  under- 
brush, they  easily  escape  notice. 

The  nest  is  rather  a  coarse  affair  of 
weetls  and  grass  placed  low  down  in 
the  bushes,  and  the  eggs,  four  or  five 
in  number,  are  greenish,  spotted  and 
blotched  with  brown. 

In  September  the  white-throats, 
young  and  old,  arrive  from  the  north, 
and  occasionally  make  an  effort  to 
sing  ;  but  the  song  lacks  the  spirit  and 
tone  of  spring,  and  is  not  often  repeat- 
ed. As  October  draws  to  a  dose  the 
birds  vanish  away  to  the  Southern 
States,    where    they    remain    for    the 

C.    W.  Nash. 


OTRONG  daughter  of  heroic  birth,  whose  throbbing  veins  combine 
^    The  Lilies  and  the  mighty  Cross  in  pure  and  royal  line. 
For  thee  thy  true  sons  ever  hold  their  hearts  and  lives  in  hand 
To  lay  them  at  thy  gracious  feet  whene'er  thy  need  demand  ! 

Haut  Canada  !  Bas  Canada  !  Canadians  all  are  we. 
Sons  of  the  North,  the  brave,  true  North, 
Land  of  the  Maple  Tree. 

Above  us  floats  the  olden  Cross,  our  fathers'  and  our  own, 
We  deck  it  with  the  Maple  Leaf  Canadian  land  has  grown  ; 
On  to  the  West,  o'er  half  a  world,  we  bear  from  sea  to  sea 
The  glorious  symbol  of  our  pride,  our  badge  of  ancestry  ! 

Haut  Canada  I  Bas  Canada  !   Canadians  all  are  we. 
Sons  of  the  North,  the  brave,  true  North, 
Land  of  the  Maple  Tree. 

Fair  are  thy  spreading  takes  and  plains,  thy  purple  mountains  high. 

For  thee  who  would  not  proudly  live,  who  would  not  gladly  die? 

Freedom  and  Law  thy  brows  entwine  and  bless  thy  sacred  sod. 

May  ne'er  thy  stainless  sword  be  drawn  but  in  the  cause  of  God ! 
Haut  Canada  I  Bas  Canada  !  Canadians  all  are  we. 
Sons  of  the  North,  the  brave,  true  North, 
Land  of  the  Maple  Tree. 

Charles  Campbell. 

Digitized.  byGoOgIC 


A   Criticism  of  Some  of  their  Social  Peculiarities. 

XHERE  is  no  doubt  that  the  Cana- 
^  dian  people  believe  themselves 
quite  the  equal  of  those  of  the  United 
States  and  of  Great  Britain,  and  more 
than  the  equal  of  those  of  any  other 
country  on  the  face  of  the  globe,  and 
justly  so.  Some  of  the  best  blood  of 
the  British  race  flows  in  our  veins ;  and 
our  system  of  government,  our  social 
oi^nization  and  our  social  habits  are 
of  a  standard  which  is  scarcely  equalled 
in  any  country  in  the  world.  But  the 
Canadian  people  are  peculiar,  and 
it  is  to  some  of  these  peculiarities  1 
wish  to  draw  attention,  for  as  Princi- 
pal Grant  has  well  said,  "The  destiny 
of  a  country  depends  not  on  its  mater- 
ial resources;  it  depends  on  the  char- 
ter of  its  people." 

The  Canadian  people  are  religious 
and  generous.  They  contribute  liber- 
ally to  the  building  of 
REUGious  churches.  In  Quebec,  the 
PECULiARi-  churches  usually  cost 
TIES.  as  much  as  alt  the  other 
buildings  in  the  town  or 
village  combined.  In  the  other  prov- 
inces, the  people  are  not  quite  so  ex- 
travagant but  the  churches  are  numer- 
ous and  creditable.  In  every  part  of 
Canada  the  preachers  are  well  paid  and 
highly  respected.  The  people  give 
generously  to  foreign  missions,  thou- 
sands of  dollars  being  sent  each  year 
to  Africa,  India  and  China.  Yet  on 
the  street  corners  of  any  Canadian 
city  you  may  see  a  blind  man  begging, 
a  one-legged,  patient  individual  with 
his  crutch  and  tin  cup,  or  a  wrinkled  old 
woman  turning  a  wheezy  hand-organ. 
The  business  streets  are  regularly  pa- 
trolled by  ragged,  worn-out  females, 
soliciting  coppers  or  selling  bone  collar- 
buttons.  Ian  Maclaren  tells  the  story 
of  a  woman  who  went  to  the  meeting  of 
a  "society  to  help  thepoor,"  in  London, 

to  seek  a  position.  She  was  asked  her 
name,  address,  age,  number  of  child- 
ren and  various  other  particulars.  She 
was  then  asked  to  pay  a  shilling  for  re- 
gistration, and  a  situation  would  be 
hunted  up  for  her.  Poor  woman,  she 
had  no  shilling  and  could  not  secure 
help.  We  have  the  same  spirit  in  Can- 
ada. We  build  large  buildings  to  ac- 
commodate unfortunates  and  name 
these  edifices  after  the  men  who  do> 
nate  the  most  money.  But  we  initi- 
ate no  system  which  will  seek  out  the 
dying  and  the  unfortunate,  no  system 
which  will  permanently  rescue  the  fal- 
len, no  plan  whereby  the  aged  and  the 
needy  will  be  able  to  live  without  beg- 
ging. A  man  will  subscribe— with  a 
flourish — a  thousand  dollars  to  foreign 
missions,  and  on  the  same  day  he  will 
dismiss  a  man  ten  years  in  his  employ, 
who  has  been  earning  but  twelve  dol- 
lars a  week,  without  a  thought  as  to 
how  this  man  is  to  support  his  wife 
and  five  children.  Truly  we  are  a  pe- 
culiar people. 

Canadians  claim  to  follow  the  rule, 
"the  greatest  good   for  the   greatest 

number,"    and    much    of 

THE  SPOILS    our  legislation  embodies 

SYSTEM.      that  principle.     We  have 

excellent  educational  sys- 
tems in  the  various  provinces  ;  not  as 
well  administered  as  they  should  be, 
but  still  doing  a  great  deal  for  the 
common  people.  We  have  a  splendid 
criminal  code  for  the  punishment  of  all 
crimes,  except  political  crimes ;  we 
have  good  laws  regulating  commerce, 
and  honourable  judges  to  administer 
these  laws.  Nevertheless  ninety  per 
cent,  of  the  discussions  in  parliament 
pertain  to  subjects  other  than  these.  It 
is  the  good  of  the  party  which  is 
considered,  not  the  good  of  the 
country.     During  its  eighteen  years  in 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 


power,  the  Conservative  Party  filled 
all  senatorial,  civil  service  and  judi- 
cial vacancies  with  men  to  whom  the 
party  was  "under  obligation,"  men 
of  its  own  political  stripe  ;  and  its 
whole  aim  during*  that  period  was  to 
so  arrange  and  compromise  everything 
that  it  might  retain  power.  The  Lib- 
eral Party  has  had  control  just  three 
years,  but  it  has  clearly  shown  that  it 
is  determined  to  give  Conservatives 
a  dose  of  their  own  medicine.  Un- 
necessary bonuses,  suspicious  dealsi 
surrenders  to  selfish  capitalists,  ap- 
pointment of  self-seeking  politicians  to 
important  administrative  positions,  a 
ceaseless  pandering  to  the  desires  of 
districts  where  the  party  wishes  to 
strengthen  its  hold — these  are  the 
marks  which  show  the  Liberal  party 
to  be  as  careless  of  the  general  good 
as  were  its  predecessors.  Mark  you, 
I  do  not  mean  that  the  Liberal  Govern- 
ment has  done  no  commendable  ac- 
tions. There  are  a  few  moves  here  and 
there  which  reflect  credit  upon  them  ; 
but  the  balance  is  on  the  side  of 
' ' power-seeking, "  not  "general good. " 

But  another  peculiarity  of  the  Cana- 
dian people  is  that  while  essentially 
moral,    they   are    encou- 

t^CK  OF  raging  political  immoral- 
iDEAL  ciTi-   ity.     A  citizen  very  sel- 

ZBNsHtp.  dom  thinks  of  doing  an 
evening's  work  on  the 
voters'  list,  of  assisting  to  organize  the 
vote  of  his  division,  or  of  doing  a  day's 
scrutineeringon  behalf  of  a  prospective 
alderman  or  a  member  of  Parliament 
without  pay  from  the  candidate.  The 
word  citizen  conveys  no  responsibil- 
ities to  the  mind  of  the  ordinary  vofer. 
He  sees  no  duty  which  he  owes  to  the 
state.  He  owes  his  party  a  vote  when- 
ever called  upon  ;  and  the  party  owes 
him  a  day's  pay  when  he  earns  it,  and 
a  small  job  now  and  again  if  he  has 
"influence,"  or  makes  an  occasional 
contribution  for  the  good  of  the  cause. 
The  average  earnest  and  thoughtful 
citizen  rests  at  home  in  the  bosom  of 
his  family,  while  his  unthinking,  less 
moral  brother  does  the  political  work 

necessary  in  Canada  to  the  making  and 
unmaking  of  governments.  We  are 
all  Canadians,  but  we  often  pay  more 
attention  to  down-trodden  Cuba  or  be- 
nighted China  than  we  do  to  the  coun- 
try which  gives  us  a  name  and  a  home. 
Because  our  duty  to  the  state  rests 
lightly  upon  us,  our  larger  municipali- 
ties are  in  the  hands  of  men  of  broad 
easy  morals ;  are  politics  are  controlled 
by  small-minded  self-seeking  men  who 
do  not  hesitate  to  bribe  constituencies 
or  to  barter  franchises.  In  neither 
provincial  nor  federal  politics,  does  the 
average  voter  rise  above  party  con- 
siderations when,  with  uncovered  head, 
he  approaches  the  ballot-box. 

Nor  are  our  women  possessed  of  the 

highest  moral  sense.      For  example : 

one  day,  as  1  was  riding 

LACK  OF  home  in  a  street-car,  a 
FINER  MORAL  well-dressed  lady  and  her 
SENSE.  daughter  came  aboard. 
The  lady  took  out  two 
yellow  tickets  and  held  them  in  her 
hand.  The  9onductor  passed  her  and 
repassed  her.  She  didn't  offer  the 
tickets,  and  he  didn't  ask  for  them.  As 
she  got  up  to  go  out  she  smiled  signi- 
ficantly at  her  daughter,  replaced  the 
two  tickets  in  her  purse,  and  gathering 
her  magnificent  skirt  in  one  hand  and 
her  gold-handled  umbrella  in  the  other, 
rustled  her  silks  through  the  aisle  and 
down  the  steps. 

If,  in  a  store,  a  woman  gets  five 
cents  more  change  than  she  should, 
why,  it  is  a  small  thing,  and  she  smiles 
complacently.  If  the  clerk  cuts  her 
off  half  a  yard  more  than  he  should, 
why  that  is  her  luck.  No  large  dry- 
goods  store  in  Canada  can  get  along 
without  private  detectives — and  the 
persons  they  watch  are  not  the  needy. 

In  her  dealing  with  the  prospective 
husbands  of  her  daughters,  a  Canadian 
mother,  especially  a  city  mother,  does 
not  always  insist  on  morality.  She 
desires  wealth  and  social  position.  The 
young  man's  moral  nature  may  be 
utterly  depraved,  and  his  offspring  sure 

to  be  tainted  with  moral  weaknesses 

but  the  mother  accepts  him  if  he   has 





She  seldom  considers  pos- 
sibilities, but  always  present  conditions. 
Truly  our  mothers  are  lovable  and 
worthy  of  all  honour  and  admiration — 
but  they  are  fond  of  tfie  rustle  of  silks. 
They  spend  two  thousand  a  year  with 
scarcely  a  thought  of  their  sisters  who 
have  but  two  hundred.  To  make  their 
husbands  M.P.'s  they  would  sacrifice 
much  ;  to  bear  the  title  "  Lady"  they 
would  almost  sacrifice  honour  itself. 

Walking:  along  street  with  a  young 

clergyman  the  other  day,  I  was  startled 

by    the    remark  :     "  Our 

PRINCES  ministers  do  not  need  to 
OF  COMPRO-  compromise     so    much  ! 

MISERS.  They  think  they  do,  but 
they  don't,"  That  word 
compromise !  Would  that  it  were 
banished  from  the  religious  world,  from 
our  political  life  and  from  even  our 
business  life  !  There  is  too  much  com- 
promise altogether.  It  has  its  basts 
in  politeness,  but  the  necessity  does 
not  justify  one  half  of  what  exists. 
We  compromise  with  evils  and  im- 
moralities until  they  eat  us  up.  And 
the  princes  of  compromisers  are  the 
sleek,  self- ad  mi  ring,  oratorical  minis- 
ters of  the  gospel.  These  epithets 
exclude  a  number  of  my  best  friends, 
men  who  in  a  small  but  honest  way 
are  pursuing  the  prize  of  a  high  calling. 
The  compromisers  are  the  men  who 
do  not  preach  morals,  but  whose  com- 
plex morality  is  printed  on  pages  of 
eloquence  and  bound  in  pliable  smiles, 
and  whose  sermons  are  literary  essays 
fit  to  adorn  the  pages  of  some  noble- 
man's latest  magazine. 

If  a  city  minister  were  to  condemn 
stock    gambling,    political    corruption, 
and  the  other  dozen  shady 
STEALING     methods  by  which  people 
MILLIONS,     amass  large  fortunes  in 
a   few  years  at    the  ex- 
pense of  their  fellow-men,   that  pulpit 
would  be  vacant.     Of  course  it  never 
occurs    to   the    minister  to   let   it   be 
vacant.       So  the  immorality  remains. 
A  man  respects  another's  property  un- 

less he  can  get  it  under  cover  of  the 
law.  For  example,  he  may  form  a 
mining  company  and  sell  his  "pro- 
moter's "  stock  at  ten,  fifteen  or  twenty 
cents  on  the  dollar.  That  is  called 
"  able  financing,"  and  the  more  worth- 
less the  claim,  the  more  able  the  finan- 
cing and  the  more  praise  the  man  re- 
ceives. The  trusting  but  ill-informed 
public  is  nevBr  praised — not  even  pitied. 

Or  he  may  desire  to  build  a  railway. 
The  cost  will  be  $8,000  per  mile,  and  it 
may  be  bonded  for,  say,  $4,000 ;  leaving 
a  net  investment  of  $4,000  per  mile  of 
road.  He  goes  to  the  Dominion  Gov- 
ernment and  gets  a  grant  through  the 
influence  of  paid  lobbyists.  He  then 
visits  the  Provincial  Government  with 
the  seal  of  federal  approval.  He  gets 
another  grant.  Then  he  repairs  to  the 
municipalities.  Altogether  he  gets 
$i2,ooo  a  mile.  As  the  net  investment 
is  $4,000,  the  profit  is  $8,000.  On  a 
hundred  miles  there  will  be  enough  to 
give  him  a  fair  claim  on  the  title  of 
"millionaire."  It  is  by  just  such 
means  as  these  that  most  of  the  rich 
men  of  Canada  have  been  made. 

There  are  those  who  have  made  their 
money  by  hard  work  and  persistent 
saving,  but  they  are  not  quite  so  nu- 
merous, and  they  are  never  so  promin- 
ent. It  is  a  common  occurrence  to 
hear  men  remark  over  their  pipes  and 
whiskey — men  of  the  world  who  know 
— that  to  get  rich  to-day,  a  man  must 
have  neither  heart  nor  conscience.  I 
have  heard  half-a-dozen  wealthy  men 
give  utterance  to  such  sentiments. 

"'Tis  true,  'tis  pity  ;  and  pity  'tis, 
'tis  true." 

But  why  go  on   in  this  somewhat 
doleful  strain  ?    The  answer  is  another 
question.    Why  does  the 
OUR  YOUNG   bird  sing  ?     It  is  given  to 
MEN.         certain  men  to  preach  the 
gospel  of  regeneration  to 
their    fellow-men,      when     inclination 
meets  opportunity.     Canada  would  not 
be  wholly  bad  if  all  the  preachers  and 
teachers   and   writers  were   banished. 
But  she  is  the  better  of  those  she  pos- 
sesses— most  of  them.    To  write  some- 



thing  which  would  give  one  young  man 
a  broader  viewof  citizenship  is  a  reward 
sufficient  for  any  would-be  teacher. 
To  make  a  dozen  young  men  THINK 
would  be  glory  and  honour. 

For,  after  all,  it  is  the  young  men  in 
whom  lies  the  hope  of  Canada's  future 
greatness.  There  is  always  hope  be- 
cause there  are  always  young  men. 
Many  of  these  will  follow  precedent, 
but  a  few  will  not.  If  the  few-are  too 
few,  our  politics  and  our  social  life  will 
become  no  better  ;  but  they  will  not 
degenerate  greatly. 

The  young  man  who  studies  nothing 
but  John  Bunyan  and  the  Bihle  may 
go  to  Heaven,  but  he  certainly  will  not 
make  the  world  much  better  for  his 
having  sojourned  here.  This  is  a  day 
when  citizens  are  required — citizens 
with  a  broad,  understanding  knowl- 
edge of  what  Canada  was,  is,  and 
might  be  ;  citizens  who  will  inquire  as 
to  what  Canada  requires  of  her  sons  ; 
citizens  who  will  study  the  history,  the 
institutions,  the  literature,  the  political 
conditions  of  their  native  land.  The 
man  who  exclusively  pursues  his  own 
ends,  his  own  purposes,  and  the  al- 
mighty dollar  is  not  a  citizen.  A 
citizen  is  a  man  of  a  higher,  a  nobler, 
a  more  unselfish  type.  To  the  citizen 
our  poet  Kernigan  cries  : 
"  Shall   the   mothers  that   love  U9,   bow  the 

And  blush  for  degenerate  sons? 
Are  the  patriot  fires  gone  out  and  dead? 
Oh,  brothers,  stand  to  your  f(ui>s  !  " 

And  Roberts  also  : 
"  Awake,  my  country,  the  hour  of  dreams  is 
Doubt  not,  nor  dread  the  Kr^^tness  of  thy 

Tho'  faint   souls  fear  the  keen,  confronting 
And  fain  would  bid  the  mom  of  splendour 

Tho'  dreamers,  rapt  in  starry  visions,  cry, 
'  Lo,   yon    thy    future,   yon  thy  faith,  thy 

And  stretch  vain  hands  to  stars  ;  thy  fame  is 
Here  in   Canadian   hearth   and  home,  and 

We  may  have  telephones  and  elec- 
tric railways,  Pacific  cables,  fast  At- 
lantic steamboats,  miles  of  canals, 
hundreds  of  cabinet  ministers,  scores 
of  companions,  knights  and  baronets  ; 
but  if  we  have  not  a  patriotic  citizen- 
ship we  shall  not  last.  Commerce 
alone  never  made  a  nation  great. 

It  is  becoming  clearer  that  if  Great 
Britain  is  to  maintain  her  supremacy 
among  thenationsshewill 
THE  DIM  have  to  be  regenerated 
FirruRB.  from  the  fresher  blood 
of  the  colonies.  If  this  is 
the  destiny  of  Canada's  greater  sons, 
we  should  be  prepared  for  it.  If  we 
are  to  become  a  part  of  the  greater 
Anglo-Saxon  unity,  the  northmen  will 
be  needed  to  reorganize  and  purify 
the  body  politic  of  the  south.  If  this 
is  the  destiny  of  Canada's  greater  sons, 
we  should  be  prepared  for  it.  If  we 
are  to  build  up  on  the  northern  half  of 
this  continent  a  new  Britain,  with  the 
maple  leaf  flag  proudly  floating  above 
it,  we  must  breed  and  bring  forth  citi- 
zens whose  excellence  cannot  be  meas- 
ured in  dollars.  If  this  is  the  destiny 
of  Canada's  sons,  let  them  anoint  them- 
selves with  wisdom. 

r  Piilienon. 

Digitized  byGoOgIc 


A  Romance  in  TToelve  Chapters. 


Digest  of  Previous  Chapters.— Sldnej'  Martin,  a  young-  Bostonian,  is  visiting  the 
Lansing  farm.  Mr.  Lansing  is  a  widower,  but  has  living  with  him  his  daughter  Vashti  and 
bis  niece  H&bella,  two  very  charming  maidens.  Lansing  Lansing,  a  cousin  of  both  these 
girls,  is  in  love  with  sweet,  honest  Mabella ;  while  Sidney  becomes  enamoured  of  the 
proud,  stately  Vashti.  But  Vashti  is  in  love  with  her  cousin  Lansing,  or  "  Lanty,"  as  he 
is  called,  and  she  is  deadly  jealousy  of  Mabella 's  happiness.  In  this  state  of  mind  she 
Accepts  Sidney's  attentions,  and  ultimately  decides  to  marry  him.  She  makes  him  pro- 
mise, however,  that  he  will  never  take  her  away  from  Dole,  the  little  village  close  at 
hand,  and  asks  him  also  to  train  himself  for  the  position  of  successor  to  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Didymus,  the  present  Congregational  minister  and  sole  clergyman  of  the  village.  Vash- 
li's  idea  is  that  as  wife  of  the  minister  she  will  be  mistress  of  Dole  with  all  the  |iower  for 
which  her  flinty,  worldly  soul  craves.  And  when  this  "  Daughter  of  Witches"  so  mfluences 
Ihis  young  man  that  he  consents  to  enter  the  holy  profession,  she  feels  that  her  hour  of 
vengeance  will  not  be  long-  delayed. 

TT  was  nearly  two  years  after  Sidney 
^  went  forth  to  prepare  for  the  pastor- 
ate of  Dole,  when  he  stood  one  morn- 
iug  reading'  and  re-readingf  the  brief 
words  of  a  telegram  : 
Come  at  once. 

The  old  man  had  been  falling'  fast 
since  the  springtime. 

The  first  April  showers  were  quick- 
ening the  earth  when  one  day  Sally 
found  Mrs.  Didymus  dead  in  her  chair, 
her  Bible  upon  her  knee,  her  spectacles 
pushed  up  on  her  brow,  her  dead  face 
turned  to  where  upon  the  wall  hung  a 
faded  and  discoloured  portrait  of  Mar- 

"Itwon't  belong  now, "Mr.  Didymus 
had  said  to  Sidney  upon  that  occasion, 
and  Sidney  felt  it  would  be  cruel  to 
contradict  his  hope. 

All  summer  long  as  Sidney  read 
Vashti's  accounts  of  the  old  man's  fluc- 
tuating health  he  had  thought  of  the 
solemn  gladness  of  the  moment  when 
the  summons  should  come.  His  loins 
had  been  girded  for  months  past  and 
now  he  was  to  set  forth. 

He  had  said  to  Vashti  in  a  wistful 
letter,  "  When  the  hour  comes  be  sure 
you  seod  for  me  yourself.  Let  it  be 
your  personal  summons  which  brings 

me  to  your  side."  And  now  such  a 
summons  lay  before  him. 

He  had  no  preparations  to  make. 
AH  that  required  to  be  done  could  be 
arranged  afterwards.  But,  ere  he  set 
out  for  the  new  life,  he  had  one  visit 
to  pay.  He  had  always  promised  him- 
self that  when  the  hour  came  he  would 
not  taste  of  its  joy  till  he  had  gone  to 
the  man  of  whom  he  had  thought  dur- 
ing the  first  gladness  of  his  engage- 

Surely  it  was  a  curious  thing  that  a 
minister  of  the  Gospel  should  seek 
counsel  of  an  unlearned  agnostic. 
Nevertheless  Sidney  went  confidently. 
At  each  step  he  took  towards  his  des- 
tination he  grew  more  and  more 
ashamed  for  that  he  had  so  long  with- 
drawn himself  from  this  man. 

Sidney  found  him  in  his  old  place 
amid  the  whirring  wheels  of  the  great 
factory  in  which  he  worked.  His 
grizzled  hair  was  a  trifle  grayer,  his 
strong  figure  a  little  more  bent ;  but  his 
clear  cut  mouth  was  as  firm  as  ever,  his 
eyes  as  wistful  and  eager.  They  had 
that  expression  of  receptiveness  which 
so  often  marks  the  true  sage,  who, 
very  wise,  is  yet  always  eager  to  learn. 

Between  the  sliding  belts  Sidney  en- 
countered his  delighted  gaze  fixed 
straight  upon  him.  The  visitor  thread- 
ed  his  way  with  difficulty  through  the 


Digitized  byGoO^IC 



maze  of  machinery  to  where  he  stood 
with  such  a  welcome  in  his  eyes  that 
Sidney's  impulse  had  been  to  brave  the 
wheels  and  go  straight. 

"  How  I  wanted  to  come  and  meet 
you,"  said  the  man  holding  out  a  be- 
grimed hand  eagerly.  "  But  you  know 
my  hand  must  be  on  the  lever  always." 

"Ah,"  said  Sidney,  "I  felt  your 
welcome  even  before  1  saw  you,  and 
when  I  saw  you  formalities  were  dis- 

The  man  looked  at  him,  a  shade  of 
awe  solemnizing  the  gladness  of  his 

"There  are  some  things  which  al- 
most frighten  one,"  he  said.  "  Do  you 
know  that  all  day  long  I  have  been 
thinking  of  you,  remembering  the 
lectures  you  used  to  give  us  at  the 
Shelley  Club  and  wondering  if  I  should 
ever,  ever  hear  from  you  again  ?  " 

"  And  now  I  am  here  !  "  said  Sidney. 

"Yes,"  said  the  man,  looking  at 
him  lovingly.  "  And  it  is  so  good  to 
see  you." 

In  the  midst  of  his  happiness  Sidney 
remembered  to  say  ' '  And  how  does  the 
Shelley  Club  progress  ?  Are  you  pre- 
sident yet  P  "  The  man  shifted  his  feet 

"Yes,  I  am,"  he  said. 

"Ah,  the  right  man  in  the  right 
place,"  said  Sidney  cordially.  "  So  the 
club  goes  on." 

"Yes,  we  have  nineteen  members 
now  and  there  are  often  fifty  at  the 

"There's  a  stride!"  said  Sidney. 
"  We  used  to  be  proud  of  ourselves  if 
we  could  say  'we  are  seven,'  didn't 
we?  Well,  I  would  like  to  hear  your 

"  You  have  some  news  to  give  me,  I 
am  sure,"  said  the  man,  who,  during 
the  conversation  manipulated  his  lever 
with  the  mechanical  precision  of  a  man 
whom  practice  has  made  almost  auto- 
Sidney  flushed. 

"Could  you  come  out  for  a  few 
minutes' quiet  talk  P  "  he  asked. 

"  1  sahll  see,"  said  the  man,  turning 
a  knob  which  arrested  the  wheels.  He 
went   to    a   man    almost  as  grimy  as 

himself,  but  who  wore  a  coat.  Sidney 
looked  about  him  with  shuddering  dis- 
gust at  the  surroundings. 

The  machinery  beside  him  shivered 
with  the  suppressed  energy  kept  in 
check  by  the  knob  the  man  had  turn- 
ed. It  seemed  to  Sidney  a  symbol  of 
the  eager  soul  of  the  man  whom  he  had 
come  to  see,  prisoned  by  circum- 
stances within  the  (Circumference  of 
petty  cares,  yet  quivering  and  throb- 
bing with  divine  energy. 

The  man  was  returning  pleased  with 
the  little  boon  of  time  he  had  gained. 
The  circumstances  gripped  Sidney's 
heart.  He  felt  his  own  freedom  and 
ease  a  reproach. 

The  man  led  the  way,  turning  down 
the  sleeves  of  his  grey  flannel  shirt. 
He  passed  broad  shouldered  between 
the  whizzing  belts,  one  touch  of  which 
meant  mutilation.  Sidney  edged  his 
way  gingerly  after  him.  The  spaces 
between  the  whirling  wheels  seemed 
very  narrow. 

The  workman  led  the  way  out  into  a 
desolate  but  suAny  little  courtyard.  A 
high  wall  enclosed  it ;  great  heaps  of 
packing  cases  filled  one  corner ;  a  freight 
car,  run  in  upon  a  little  row  of  rails, 
stood  just  within  the  gate. 

"Sit  down,"  said  the  man,  waving 
Sidney  to  a  place  upon  a  pile  of  boards. 
It  struck  Sidney  that  there  was'  a  sense 
of  luxury  in  the  way  in  which  he  let  his 
frame  relax  ;  it  Was  an  unaccustomed 
treat,  evidently,  these  few  moments 
stolen  in  the  midst  of  the  sunshiny  fore- 

"  Now  for  your  news, "said  the  man. 
"  Is  it  about  yourself?" 

"Yes,"  said  Sidney,  "and  it  will 
surprise  you  greatly.  I  amaboutto  be- 
come, in  fact  already  am,  a  Minister." 

"  Of  what — to  whom — where  ?"  ask- 
ed the  man. 

"  A  preacher  of  the  Christian  gospel," 
said  Sidney.  "  To  a  pious  little  com- 
munity in  the  New  England  hilts." 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment.  The 
whir  of  the  wheels  came  to  them,  they 
heard  a  postman's  whistle  in  the  street 
outside  and  the  chirping  of  some  spar- 
rows which  fluttered  about  the  empty 

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"Youare  disappointed,"  sa!d  Sidney; 
you  disapprove,  but — " 

The  man  raised  his  hand. 

"  It's  for  a  woman,  1  suppose,"  he 
said.  "  Would  nothing-  satisfy  her  but 
your  soul  ?" 

"  Oh,"  cried  Sidney,  "  I  will  do  my 
duty  by  them.  I  will  preach  the  truth 
to  them.  They  shall  know  how  noble 
and  lovely  life  may  be.  They  shall  be 
shown  what  real  beauty  is,  and  told 
that  righteousness  for  righteousness' 
sake  is  the  highest  good." 

His  friend  sat  silent  still  ;  Sidney 
looked  at  him  almost  pleadingly,  and 
sanr  that  his  eyes  were  blurred  by  tears. 

"  Listen,"  he  said  to  Sidney.  "Give 
it  up.  You  don't  know  what  you  are 
doing-.  It  will  kill  you.  I  know  you 
so  well.  You  are  salving  your  con- 
science now  bygood  resolutions.  When 
you  see  the  fruitlessness  of  it  all  you 
will  torture  yourself  with  thoughts  of 
your  responsibility  and  what  not,  and 
the  end  will  be  chaos." 

"Do  you  think  1  have  not  nearly 
^one  mad  already?"  said  Sidney,  grow- 
ing very  white.  "  Surely  you  must 
guess  how  I  have  questioned  my  ability 
to  do  them  good.  But  I  think  the 
worst  of  that  is  bye  now.  I  shall  have 
a  stay,  a  support,  an  inspiration  which 
win  never  flag.  The  most  beautiful 
and  best  woman  in  the  world  has  prom- 
ised to  marry  me  the  day  I  become  min- 
ister of  Dole." 

"I've  heard  of  the  devil  baiting  his 
line  with  a  woman,"  said  the  workman 
contemptuously,  but  yet  in  such  a  man- 
ner that  Sidney  could  not  take  offence. 
Then  he  went  on  :— 

'  'You  say  you'll  do  your  duty  by  these 
people,  but  it's  not  that  I'm  thinking 
about.  It's  you.  Remember  this,  you 
are  to  work  in  the  vineyard  of  human 
nature,  its  soil  is  the  shifting  quicksand 
of  human  weakness.  When  you  feel 
that  sucking  you  down,  to  what  will 
you  turn  ?  Upon  what  secret  source  of 
strength  can  you  draw  ?  Do  you  think 
the  men  who  preach  the  Christ  word  in 
the  slums  could  live  and  eat  and  con- 
tinue their  work  unless  they  drew 
strength  from  some  unseen  reservoir? 
No,  a  thousand  times  no.     Of  course, 

1  think  their  belief  a  delusion,  but  it  is 
real  to  them,  as  real  as  the  Divinity  of 
Truth,  and  Truth  alone,  is  to  me.  To 
preach  a  personal  God  without  belief 
in  one  is  to  court  destruction  ;  at  any 
moment,  by  disappointment  or  self- 
reproaCh,  you  may  be  thrown  back  up- 
on your  own  beliefs.  Shall  the  mother 
whom  you  have  denied  open  her  arms 
to  you  P  Or  shall  the  personal  God  in 
whom  you  do  not  believe  sustain  you  P 
No,  you  will  fall  into  the  void.  Sidney, 
give  it  up." 

There  was  a  pause. 

"  I  will  never  give  it  up,"  he  said. 
"I  have  promised  that  I  shall  devote 
myself  to  the  work,  and  I  will.  You 
speak  as  if  I  had  denied  Nature  and 
spat  upon  Truth.  I  have  done  neither. 
These  two  things  will  bear  me  through. 
There  was  one  night  in  the  fields — there 
was  a  new  moon,  and  the  young  grain 
was  springing.  I  saw  things  very 
clearly  just  then.  I  felt  I  could  do 
good,  and  that  it  was  my  bounden  duty 
to  try.     Bid  me  good-speed." 

The  workman  rose.  He  took  Sid- 
ney's  hand  and  pressed  it  in  both  of 

"  I  think,"  he  said,  "  no  human  be- 
ing ever  began  a  hopeless  course  with 
more  sincere  and  honest  good  wishes." 
As  he  held  Sidney's  hands  and  looked 
into  the  grey  eyes  of  the  younger  man 
his  own  keen  eyes  dimmed  and  grew 
seerlike.  The  look  of  the  visionary  il- 
lumined his  face. 

"  You  will  toil  and  strive  and  suffer," 
he  said.  "You  will  spend  and  be  spent 
for  others.  You  will  have  griefs,  but 
you  will  never  realize  them,  for  you  will 
be  too  absorbed  in  the  sorrows  of  others 
to  feel  your  own.  You  have  bound 
yourself  to  a  wheel,  and  until  you  are 
broken  upon  it,  and  your  spirit  spilt 
into  the  bosom  of  the  Eternal,  you  will 
never  know  you  have  been  tortured." 

A  half  sob  arrested  his  speech. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  said,  "good-bye  !" 

"Good-bye,"  said  Sidney,  who  was 
much  moved.  So  the  two  men  parted. 
The  one  went  into  the  sunshine ;  the 
other  back  into  the  hot  atmosphere, 
where  the  deleterious  dust  was  eddied 
into  maelstroms  by  the  whirling  wheels. 

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The  one  murmured,  "  Vashti,  Vash- 
ti ; "  the  other,  as  he  otied  the  wheels 
and  bent  strenuously  over  his  work, 
thought  long  and  sorrowfully  of  many 
things.  It  chanced  to  be  the  meeting- 
night  of  the  Free  Thinking  Vegetarian 
Club,  of  which  he  was  president,  and 
in  his  little  speech  he  said  much  of  a 
man  who  bartered  his  soul  for  a  mess 
of  pottage.  But  he  told  the  story  in 
such  fashion  that  this  man  seemed  to 
shine  as  an  unselfish  hero  before  their 
eyes,  instead  of  as  a  weakling,  spend- 
thrift of  a  precious  heritage  of  inde- 

Thus  an  author  has  sometimes  such 
wholesome  charity  for  his  villains  that 
we  love  them  more  than  their  betters. 

As  Sidney  was  borne  towards  Dole 
that  day,  he  relived  as  in  a  vision  all 
the  events  which  followed  that  first 
haphazard  visit  of  his.  And  yet,  could 
such  a  vital  event  be  born  of  chance  ? 

How  well  he  recalled  the  peculiar 
fancy  he  had  had  when  Dr.  Clement, 
after  his  visit  to  the  country,  gave  him 
old  Mr,  Lansing's  invitation. 

It  was  as  if  a  little  bell  set  swinging 
in  his  father's  boyhood  hud  suddenly 
tinkled  in  his  ear,  bidding  him  turn  in 
his  youth  to  those  scenes  where  his 
father  had  been  a  boy. 

He  remembered  the  day  when  dear 
old  Temperance  first  opened  the  door 
to  him.  He  knew  now  the  enormity 
□f  his  going  direct  to  the  front  door. 
In  Dole  only  ministers  and  funerals 
went  there.  Sidney  never  really  ac- 
quired the  etiquette  of  the  Dole  doors. 
One  has  to  be  born  in  a  court  to  pro- 
perly, appreciate  its  etiquette. 

With  epicurean  delay  the  gentle 
stream  of  his  recollections  took  him 
down  the  road,  past  Mullein'  meadow 
(O  !  place  of  promise  !),  to  the  "  unc- 
tion sate,"  at  Abiron  Ranger's,  and 
then  his  memory  leaped  the  bounds, 
swept  aside  intervening  incidents,  and 
dwelt  upon  the  glorified  vision  of 
beautiful  Vashti,  Ah!  "Who  ever 
loved  that  loved  not  at  first  sight  ?  " 

Then  followed  his  long  visit  with  its 
rhythmic  lapse  of  happy  days. 

Then,  the  Holy  Grail  of  her  heart 
had  been  won. 

And  afterwards  came  the  long  wait- 
ing. The  short  visits  to  Dole.  And 

The  marriage  of  Mabella  and  Lanty 
had  taken  place  a  month  or  so  after 
Sidney  left  Dole  the  first  time.  Their 
little  daughter  Dorothy  was  more  than 
a  year  old  now. 

Temperance  and  Nathan  were  not 
yet  married,  but  three  months  before 
Temperance  had  bought  a  new  black 
cashmere  dress  in  Brixton,  and  Nathan 
was  known  to  have  priced  a  china  tea 
set,  with  gilt  ro.sebuds  in  the  bottoms 
of  the  cups.  Dole  felt,  therefore,  that 
matters  were  approaching  a  crisis  with 
Temperance  and  Nathan. 

Old  Mr.  Lansing  had  grown  very 
frail.  He  had  had  a  stroke  of  paralysis, 
and  had  never  been  the  same  man 
again.  His  eyes  always  had  an  appre- 
hensive look  which  was  very  painful  to 
witness ;  and  strangely  enough  this 
quiet  self-contained  old  man,  who  all 
his  life  had  seemed  so  content  with  the 
little  village  where  be  was  bom,  so 
scornfully  unconscious  of  the  world 
which  fretted  and  throbbed  beyond  its 
quiet  boundaries,  now  showed  a  great 
eagerness  for  word  from  the  outside. 
He  subscribed  to  several  newspapers. 
And  when  Sidney  came  the  old  man 
would  question  him  with  persistent  and 
pathetic  eagerness  about  the  details  of 
different  events  which  he  had  seen 
chronicled  with  big  typed  headings, 
and  Sidney  found  himself  often  sore 
at  heart  because  he  knew  nothing 
whatever  about  the  matter.  American 
journalism  has  some  grave  flaws  in  its 
excellence,  and  surely  the  hysterical 
lack  of  all  sense  of  proportion  and  per- 
spective in  presenting  the  picture  of 
the  times  is  a  deplorable  thing.  It 
does  grave  and  positive  harm  in  the 
rural  districts  where  it  is  impossible 
for  the  people  to  gauge  the  statements 
by  comparison  with  events. 

Sidney  was  greatly  touched  by  the 
misconception  of  old  Mr.  Lansing  in 
regard  to  these  things. 

"  Ah,"  said  the  old  man  once,  laying 
down  the  paper  in  which  he  had  read 
a  grotesquely  exaggerated  account  of 
some  political  caucus  which  was  made 

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to  appear  like  a  meeting  of  the  national 
powers,  "Ah,  there's  no  wonder  dear 
old  Sid  went  to  Bosting'."  He  shook 
his  head  and  sat  with  his  elbows  upon 
his  chair,  looking  before  him  into 
vacancy.  What  fanciful  vista  of  pos- 
sibilities did  he  look  upon?  What 
vague  regrets  beset  his  mind  ?  To 
Sidney  this  was  unspeakably  pitiful. 
This  old  man  with  his  young  dreams 
— and  it  was  the  more  sad,  inasmuch 
as  the  dreamer  himself  knew  their 

Old  Lansing  had  always  been  a 
"forehanded"  man  with  his  work. 
He  had  never  left  over  one  season's 
duties  till  another,  but  he  had  forgot- 
ten to  dream  in  his  youth,  and  now  he 
was  striving  to  his  age  to  overtake  the 
neglected    harvests  of    his    garden  of 

When  the  train  stopped  at  Brixton 
the  first  person  whom  Sidney  saw  was 
Lanty.  Lanty  tall  and  strong,  and 
debonair  as  ever.  He  greeted  Sidney 
very  heartily. 

"You've  come  for  keeps  this  time," 
he  said,  as  he  led  the  way  to  where  the 
roan,  a  trifle  more  sedate  than  former- 
ly, stood  waiting  between  the  shafts 
of  a  very  spick-and-span  buggy. 

"  We  will  go  straight  to  the  preach- 
er's," said  Lanty.  "  I  hope  we'll  be 
in  time," 

"  Is  he  so  low  ?" 

"Dying,"  said  Lanty  simply.  He 
touched  the  roan  with  the  reins  and  it 
sprang  forward.  Sidney's  heart  fled 
before.  The  landscape  upon  either 
side  stretched  dimly  before  his  eyes. 
He  was  conscious  that  Lanty  was 
speaking  to  him,  and  he  made  suitable 
replies.  But  all  his  mind  was  glam- 
oured by  one  thought,  for  Vashti  had 
promised  that  Mr.  Didymus  should 
marry  them. 

Was  this  then  THE  DAY  ? 

They  passed  Lant/s  house,  a  square 
building  with  heavily  timbered  porch, 
and  Lanty  drew  rein  to  call  "  Mabella, 
Mabella  I"  But  there  was  no  reply. 

"She  must  have  gone  into  Dole," 
said  he,'  and  once  more  they  went  on. 
Ere  long    they   were  driving  up  the 

streets  of  Dole.  The  women  stood  at 
the  doorways  with  elaborate  pretence 
of  being  occupied.  The  men  endeav- 
oured to  infuse  surprise  into  their  re- 
cognition  of  Sidney,  although  most  of 
them  had  purposely  elected  to  stay  in 
the  village  "  choring "  around  the 
house  instead  of  going  to  the  fields  or 
the  woods. 

The  wise  wives  of  Dole,  knowing 
the  amiable  weakness  of  their  hus- 
bands, had  preferred  special  requests 
that  day  to  have  work  done  about  the 
house.  In  Dole  a  man  always  thought 
he  was  conferring  a  personal  favour  up- 
on his  wife  if  he  straightened  up  a  lean- 
ing garden  fence,  mended  a  doorstep, 
or  banked  up  a  cellar  for  winter.  There 
were  six  cellars  banked  up  in  Dole  on 
the  day  when  Sidney  entered  it.  Upon 
the  spnng  air  the  odour  of  fresh-turned 
earth  speaks  of  new  plowed  fields  and 
fresh  harvests,  but  in  autumn  the  ear- 
thy smell  is  chill  and  drear,  and  brings 
with  it  a  sense  of  mortality,  a  hint  of 
the  end.  And  this  atmosphere  hung 
heavy  over  the  little  village  as  Sidney 
entered  it. 

As  the  buggy  drawn  by  the  roan 
horse  passed,  the  ranks  of  Dole  closed 
up.  That  is,  each  woman  crossed  to 
her  neighbour,  and  the  men  rested 
from  their  labours  to  discuss  the  arri- 

There  was  one  thing  that  never  was 
forgotten  about  Sidney's  entry — a  cir- 
cumstance viewed  severely  by  the 
many,  leniently  by  the  few — he  wore  a 
grey  suit  of  clothes.  Dole  murmured 
in  its  heart  at  this  infringement  of  the 
ministerial  proprieties,  but  Dole  was 
destined  to  experience  a  succession  of 
such  shocks,  for  its  young  and  eager 
pastor  trod  often  upon  the  outspread 
skirts  of  its  prejudices. 

Sidney  him  self  was  profoundly  moved 
as  he  drove  up  the  street,  for  he  was 
entering  the  precincts  of  his  holy  city. 
In  the  geography  of  the  heart  there 
are  many  cities.  There  is  the  place 
where  we  were  bom  ;  the  place  of  our 
dreams  ;  the  Rome  which  under  one 
guise  or  another  fills  the  tbreground 
of  our  ambitions  ;  and  above  all  there 
is  the   place  where  first  we  tasted  of 

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love,  ah,  that  is  where  the  Temple 
Beautiful  stands.  And  Sidney's  first 
and  only  love  had  been  born  in  Dole. 

Eager  eyes  were  watching  for  them 
from  the  parsonage  windows  ;  Mabelia, 
the  habitual  happiness  of  her  face 
masked  and  subdued  by  tender-hearted 
concern;  Mrs.  Ranger  a  bustling  im- 
portant woman  of  many  airs  and  graces, 
filled  with  a  sense  of  her  own  import- 
ance, and  knowing  that  her  every 
action  would  be  reported  to  Temper- 
ance TrJbbey  (her  sworn  enemy)  by 
Mabelia;  Mr.  Simpson  who  had  nursed 
Mr.  Didymus  from  the  beginning ; 
and,  waiting  alone  and  silently  in  the 
tiny  hall  upstairs,  Vashti  Lansing, 

She  saw  the  two  men  coming  up  the 
street,  side  by  side  in  the  buggy,  and 
her  heart  leaped  up  and  cried  ^or  the 
one  who  was  denied  her.  Again  an 
angry  gust  of  passion  shook  her  as  she 
looked.  For  the  one  moment  her  de- 
cision wavered.  That  pale  slight  man 
whose  grey  eyes  were  so  eager,  so 
alight  with  hope  and  love  was  nothing 
to  her  compared  to  the  blue-eyed,  fair- 
haired  young  countryman.  Why 
should  she  condemn  herself  to  the  tor- 
ture of  the  continual  contrast?  But 
this  way  her  revenge  lay,  unplanned 
yet,  hut  so  eagerly  desired.  She  would 
surely,  surely  find  means  to  make  them 
feel  her  power  when  as  the  preacher's 
wife  she  was  First  Lady  in  Dole.  So 
Vashti  Lansing  filled  with  Samson-like 
courage  to  wreck  her  enemies  at  any 
price,  slowly  descended  the  stairs  as 
Sidney  entered  the  front  door.  Then 
she  went  towards  him. 

Mabelia  saw  them  and  with  adroit 
sympathy  endeavoured  to  detain  Mrs. 
Ranger  in  the  kitchen.  But  that 
worthy  woman  saw  through  Mabella's 
artifice,  and  leaving  her  question  un- 
answered made  for  the  door  which'led 
from  the  kitchen  into  the  little  front 
hall  ;  whereupon  Mabelia  deliberately 
placed  herself  in  Mrs.  Ranger's  way, 
and  animated  by  the  courage  which 
springs  from  consciousness  of  a  good 
cause  dodged  every  attempt  of  that 
irate  person  to  pass  her.  Mrs.  Ranger 
endured  this  as  long  as  she  could,  then, 
without  more  ado,  she  put  out  a  strong 

arm  and  brushed  Mabelia  aside. 
"Take  care,"  she  said  and  passed  into 
the  hall.  But  Sidney  had  had  his 
greeting  and  Vashti's  calm  face  baffled 
her  inquiring  looks. 

"  1  could  see  there  had  been  some- 
thing," she  said  in  reporting  the  mat- 
ter, "but  what  had  happened  I  don't 

"My  sakes,"  said  Mrs.  Simpson 
when  Mrs.  Ranger  told  her  this,  "I'm 
sure  you  must  have  been  busy  in  the 
kitchen  if  you  couldn't  spare  time  to 
watch  'em  meet.  My  soul !  If  Len 
was  worth  his  salt  for  observation  he'd 
have  kep'  his  eyes  open.  But  sakes! 
Men's  that  stoopid — .  But  with  you 
there  I  thought  we'd  know  how  things 
was  goin' — " 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Ranger  tartly, 
"you  can  thank  Mabelia  Lansing  for 
that.  First  as  I  was  going  out  she 
ups  and  asks  me  a  question.  I  paid 
no  attention  to  that  for  I  knew  'twas 
done  to  hinder  (them  Lansings  is  all  in 
the  same  boat),  and  then  when  she 
seen  1  wasn't  to  be  took  in  with  that 
she  deliberately  put  herself  in  the  way, 
and  dodged  me  back  and  forward  till  I 
had  all  I  could  do  to  keep  from  giving 
her  a  good  shove," 

"Well,  M'bella  Lansing  had  better 
look  out.  It's  a  bad  thing  to  be  set  up. 
Pride  goes  before  a  fall.  And  M'bel- 
la's  certingly  most  wonderful  sure  of 
self.  But  Lanty  wouldn't  be  the  first 
young  chap  to — .  Of  course  1  ain't 
sayin'  anything,  but  they  do  say — " 

Mrs,  Ranger  waited  eagerly  to  see 
if  her  friend  would  commit  herself  to  a 
definite  statement.  But  Mrs.  Simpson 
was  much  too  wary  for  that ;  so  Mrs. 
Ranger  nodded  her  head,  and  pursed 
up  her  tips,  and  managed  to  convey  the 
impression  that  "she  could  an' '  she 
would  "  unfold  a  tale. 

But  this  was  some  days  after  Sidney 
met  Vashti  in  the  narrow  hall  of  the 
Dole  parsonage, 

"  1  am  here,  Vashti,"  he  whispered, 
kissing  her. 

"  Yes,  how  glad  I  am  !"  she  answer- 
ed simply, 

"  Can  1  speak  to  you  just  a  moment, 
dear,  before  1  go  to  see  him?" 

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"What  is  it?" 

"  Do  you  remember,"  he  whispered 
hurriedly,  "  that  you  promised  old  Mr. 
Didymus  that  he  should  marry  us  ? 
Vashti,  I  have  waited  so  long.  I 
tremble  before  the  responsibility  of  the 
life  I  have  chosen.  Strengthen  me 
with  the  fulfilment  of  your  promise  to 
better  keep  mine." 

Just  then  Mr.  Simpson  came  in. 

"  He's  askin'  if  you  be  come  yet," 
he  said  to  Sidney.  "  I — wouldn't  wait 
long  before  seein'  him  if  I  was  you  ; 
'he's  sinlcin'." 

"  1  will  come  in  at  once,"  said  Sid- 
ney. Mr.  Simpson  turned  and  re- 
entered  the  sick  room. 

Sidney  turned  to  Vashti.  At  that 
moment  Mrs.  Ranger,  flushed  and  a 
little  ruflHed  by  her  combat  with  Ma- 
bella,  entered  the  hall. 

"How  d'ye  do,  Mr.  Martin,"  she 
said,  holding  out  her  hand.  "We'd 
be  right  glad  t'  see  you  if  the  time 
wasn't  so  sad." 

"  I  am  pleased  to  see  you,"  said 
Sidney,  in  his  gentle  genial  way,  shak- 
ing hands  with  her.  She  looked  from 
his  face  to  Vashti's  w'ith  an  almost 
ridiculously  eager  scrutiny,  but  found 
herself  baffled. 

"  You  better  go  right  in  and  see  Mr. 
Didymus,"  she  said.  "  He's  bin  askin' 
for  you."  At  this  juncture  Mabella 
appeared,  an  adorably  matronly  Ma- 

"  How  are  you  Sidney  ?  "  she  asked. 
"Mrs.  Ranger,  I'm  afraid  your  pies 
are  burning  or  running  over  or  some- 
thing, 1  smelt  them." 

"Laws,"  said  that  good  woman, 
disappearing  like  a  shot.  "  Didn't  you 
have  sense  enuff  to  go  to  the  oviug  in- 
stead o'  coming  t'  me  ?  " 

"  If  you  want  to  talk,"  said  Mabella 
coolly  to  Sidney  and  Vashti,  "go  into 
the  sitting-room,  and  when  she  comes 
back  I'll  tell  her  you've  gone  in  to  see 
Mr.  Didymus." 

"  You're  an  angel,"  said  Sidney,  and 
drew  Vasti  through  the  doorway  just 
as  Mrs.  Ranger  came  back  angrily. 

"Them  pies  ain't  half  cooked,"  she 
said,  "let  alone  burning  !  " 

"Well,  I'm  sure  I  thought  I  smelt 

them,"  said  Mabella,  "and  1  know  you 
didn't  want  to  leave  the  pie-making  for 
Temperance  to  do  when  she  came  this 

"  If  the  pies  had  bumed  I'd  have 
made  others,  depend  on  that,"  said 
Mrs.  Ranger.  "  I  guess  Temp'rins 
Tribbey  never  had  to  do  anything  over 
af^er  me !  I  'spose  he's  gone  in  to  see 
Mr.  Didymus  now?" 

"  We  may  as  well  go,"  said  Mabella. 
"  He  won't  be  back  for  awhile  likely." 

So  the  two  went  back  to  the  kitchen 
where  Lanty,  after  watering  the  roan, 
stood  eating  biscuits  from  the  heap 
upon  the  bake  board. 

"  Vashti,"  said  Sidney,  taking  her  in 
his  arms,  "  Say  yes.  You  know  that 
I  adore  you — and — Vashti,  you  will — " 

She  looked  into  his  eyes.  For  one 
moment  a  womanly  hesitation  prevailed 
in  her  heart.  The  next  she  questioned 
herself  angrily  :  "  Why  malt,  why  de- 
lay, why  not  begin  to  lay  the  threads 
of  your  revenge  ?  " 

"But" — she  paused  and  looked 
down.     He  drew  her  closer. 

"Darling,  it  is  the  knowledge  that 
you  are  really  mine  that  I  want.  You 
surely  do  not  think  I  would  be  exact- 
ing to  you  ?  You  shall  come  to  me 
when  you  will  ;  say  yes,  dear  "— 

"It  is  so  hurried — so — you  art 
good,"  she  said,  with  charming  affecta- 
tion of  hesitancy. 

"  Send  Lanty  oyer  for  your  father," 
said  Sidney,  "and  Temperance  and  I 
will  go  in  and  ask  Mr.  Didymus," 

"I — yes,  Sidney,  I  will  do  as  you 
wish,"  she  said,  then  for  one  instant, 
abashed  by  the  great  glad  light  in  his 
eyes,   she  let    fall    her    face    upon    his 

'  'And  Vashti — after — you  won't  keep 
me  waiting  too  long." 

She  looked  at  him,  arch  rebuke  in 
her  eyes. 

He  reddened. 

"There,"  he  said,  "I'm  spoiling  it 
all  I  know.  Go,  dear,  and  send  Lanty." 
She  moved  away  a  step.  He  followed 
her  swiftly  and  caught  her  to  his  breast 
with  passion. 

"Tell  me,  Vashti,"  he  said,  "that 
you  love  me  as  1  love  you  ;  tell  me  that 

Digitized  by  Google 



life  tog;ether  seems  the  only  thin^  pos- 
sible to  you."  She  put  her  arms  about 
his  neck. 

"  I  love  you  dearly,"  she  said,  "  I 
could  not  look  forward  to  life  except 
with  you." 

With  those  words  and  with  the  em- 
brace of  her  soft  warm  arms,  every 
doubt  or  shadow  of  doubt  died  in  Sid- 
ney's heart.  He  returned  her  embrace, 
too  moved  to  speak,  and  left  her  to 
enter  the  room  of  the  dying  man. 

Vashti  went  to  the  kitchen  door  and 
called  her  cousin. 

"Lanty,"  she  said,  "  will  you  speak 
a  moment  ?  " 

He  left  Mabella  and  came  to  her. 

"  Come  outside,"  she  s^d,  "  I  want 
you  to  do  something  for  me. "  Then 
as  they  got  beyond  Mrs.  Ranger's 
hearing  she  continued:  "  I  want  you  to 
go  over  and  fetch  father  and  Temper- 
ance. Sidney  is  beat  upon  being  mar- 
ried by  Mr.  Didymus  and — -I  have  con- 
sented," There  was  a  kind  of  agony 
in  the  regard  she  gave  Lanty.  "Will 
you  go  ;  "  she  said,  her  voice  sounded 
far  away  to  herself,  and  alt  at  once  it 
seemed  to  her  as  if  she  could  hear  the 
blood  rushing'  through  her  veins,  with 
a  roaring  as  of  mill-streams.  And 
Lanty,  all  unconscious  of  this,  stood 
smiling  before  her.  Truly,  if  Vashti 
Lansing  sinned,  she  also  suffered. 

"  It's  a  capital  idea,"  said  Lanty 
heartily.  "  You  are  a  lucky  girl,  Vash- 
ti. I'll  go  at  once  ;  have  you  told 
Mabella  yet  ?  " 

The  pent  up  forces  of  Vashti's  heart 
leaped  almost  beyond  the  bounds. 

"  Go,"  she  said,  with  a  strange 
sweet  shrillness  in  her  voice.  "Go, 
at  once." 

"  1  will,  of  course,  1  will,"  said 
Lanty,  and  he  suited  the  action  to  the 
word.  He  paused  an  instant  to  tell 
Mabella,  and  added:  "Vou  go  and 
talk  to  Vashti,  she's  as  nervous  as  you 

Then  he  departed  and  Vashti  watch- 
ed him,  wondering  a  little  why  she 
had  been  born  to  such  a  perverse  fate. 
.As  she  turned  from  the  empty  distance 
where  he  had  disappeared  it  was  to  be 
met   by  Mabella's   arms,    and    kisses, 

and  congratulations,  and  exclamations. 
Poor  Mabella  !  All  was  so  well  meant, 
and  surely  we  would  not  blame  her ; 
and  yet,  though  a  creature  be  worthy 
of  death,  we  do  not  like  to  see  it  tor- 
mented and  baited.  Vashti  Lansing, 
with  her  lawless  will,  her  arrc^ant 
self-confidence,  her  evil  determination 
was  yet  to  be  pitied  that  day. 

The  short  autumnal  day  had  drawn 
down  to  night.  Ldmps  twinkled  from 
every  room  in  the  parsonage.  A  great 
stillness  brooded  over  the  house. 

The  kitchen  was  filled  with  whisper- 
ing women,  groups  of  men  lingered 
near  the  house  and  horses  were  tied 
here  and  there  to  the  palings.  The 
word  had  gone  abroad  that  the  old 
man  who  prayed  far  them  so  long  was 
leaving  them  that  night.  There  would 
be  little  sleep  in  Dole  during  its  hours. 

"The  license  has  come,"  whispered 
Mabella  to  Temperance,  and  Temper- 
ance slipped  out  from  among  the 
women  and  found  Nathan  where  he 
loitered  by  the  door. 

Soon  they  were  all  gathered  in  the 
sick  room.  Old  Lansing,  and  Mabella, 
and  Lanty  with  their  baby  Dorothy  in 
his  arms,  and  Temperance  and  Nathan, 
and  another  guest,  unseen  and  silent, 
to  whom  they  all  did  reverence,  who 
was  nearer  to  the  old  clei^man  than 
any  of  them. 

And  in  a  moment  the  door  opened, 
and  Sidney  and  Vashti  came  softly  in, 
both  pale,  both  calm. 

The  old  clergyman  looked  up  at 
them  lovingly.  His  face  was  the 
colour  of  ivory,  and  the  spirit  seemed 
to  shine  through  its  imprisoning  taber- 
nacle like  a  light. 

In  few  and  feeble  words  he  married 
them.  Then  he  essayed  to  speak  a 
little  to  them,  but  he  stumbled  and 
faltered,  and  instead  of  saying  "You, 
Vashti,"  he  said  "  You,  Martha,"  and 
when  he  sought  to  find  Sidney's  name 
he  could  only  say  "  Len." 

The  composure  of  the  women  gave 
way.  Mabella  buried  her  face  in 
Lanty's  arm  and  cried  unrestrainedly. 
Tears  streamed  over  Lanty's  face  also. 
Those  words,  Martha  and  Lea,  showed 
how  lovingly,  despite  his  stem  denial 

,  Google 

THE  NEW  INVASION.                                            147 

of  their  suit,  the  old  man  had  thought  the   good   fight,    I   have   finished   my 

of  his  daughter  and  her  sweetheart.  course." 

His  voice  wandered  and  failed,     Sid-  Dr.  Harrow  and  Mr.  Simpson  enter- 

ney  and  Vashti  knelt  beside  the  bed.  ed  the  room,  and  the  others  quitted  it, 

Temperance  stole  forward  and  touch-  and  hardly  were  they  gone  ere  the  un- 

ing  them,  motioned  for  them  to  go.  seen  guest  stole  out  from  the  shadows 

As  they  rose  the  old  man  looked  at  and  looked  into  the  old  man's   eyes, 

them.     A  little  bewilderment  flickered  There  was  neither  fear  nor  reluctance 

into  his  eyes.  in  them,  nothing  but  welcome,  and  a 

"  It's  not  Martha  and  Len  " — then  trust  which  was    transcendent ;   and  in 

his  eyes  cleared.     "lam  going  to  them  a  few  moments  the  unseen  guest  folded 

and  the  mother."     Then  he  looked  at  the  longing  spirit  of  the  old  man  in  a 

Sidney,  "  Be  thou  faithful  unto  death,"  strong  embrace  and   bore  it  to  where 

he    said,   the   solemnity  of  the  words  "beyond  these  voices  there  is  peace." 

graining  an  incalculable  force  from  the  Thus  Sidney  was  married.     Thus  the 

weakness  of  the  voice.     Then  he  began  mantle  of  the  pastorate  of  Dole  fell 

to  murmur  to  himself,  "  1  have  fought  upon  his  shoulders. 

(To  be  Continued.) 


T  AM  the  North. 

-^     Though  I  lacked  men  to  till  the  soil 

And  reap  its  fruits  with  modest  toil, 

My  sons  went  forth 

By  many  thousands  year  by  year. 

With  health  and  strength  and  sturdy  cheer  ; 

Went  all  untaught 

The  land  of  Golden  Ease  to  And, 

Not  recking  that  they  left  behind 

The  thing  they  sought. 

I  did  not  speak, 

Yet  did  my  broad  deep  bosom  hold 

Unmeasured  store  of  that  same  gold 

Which  they  did  seek  ; 

And  all  around  the  fertile  plains 

Lay  groaning  deep  in  labour  pains  ; 

Earth's  womb  replete, 

Called  but  for  hands  with  patient  care 

To  ease  the  burden  and  to  share 

Reward  full  mete. 

They  would  not  heed, 

But  hastened,  each  to  cast  his  lot 

With  that  Fair  South  which  loved  htm  not. 

And  scorned  his  breed. 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 


But  lured  him  with  that  lustre  fair 

Which  he  in  vain  thought  he  might  share 

Did  he  but  strive  ; 

And  so  they  wandered  one  by  one 

Yet  to  their  Mother's  task  undone 

All  un-alive. 

At  length  there  came 

Men  of  the  South  who  spalce  my  tongue 

Yet  did  not  to  my  race  belong, 

And  O  the  shame  ! 

They  cleft  my  sides  and  from  me  tore 

The  treasure  that  my  bosom  bore 

For  mine  own  kin. 

Swift  too  came  hordes  with  fevered  haste 

Prom  Iceland  bare  and  Russian  waste 

With  Babel  din. 

These  tread  the  plain  ; 

They  see  what  mine  own  failed  to  see, 

They  plod  with  patient  industry ; 

Full  great  their  gain. 

I  grudge  it  not,  yet  do  I  grieve 

Lest  these  unwelcome  guests  should  weave 

From  Race  and  Tongue 

A  web  so  strong  that  evermore 

Shall  fright  the  Saxon  from  my  shore. 

And  that  ere  long. 

Ye  do  not  need 

That  serfs  long  trained  beneath  the  rod 

Or  men  of  any  other  blood 

Should  taint  your  breed. 

Ye  are  enough  if  ye  be  true 

And  cherish  me  as  you  should  do, 

To  hold  your  own. 

But  'ware  the  Tartar  and  the  Slav, 

Or  if  with  them  ye  commerce  have. 

Your  fate  bemoan. 

Northmen  !     Awake  ! 

This  bond  of  alien  thraldom  break. 

Your  lawful  place  and  station  take. 

Awake  !     Awake  1 

Hold  fast  the  land,  hold  fast  your  speech. 

And  to  the  rash  intruder  teach 

That  ye  are  Lords, 

Who  govern  in  your  Mother's  name. 

Who  will  not  see  her  put  to  shame. 

These  are  my  words. 

H.  H.   Godfrey. 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 



By   W,  R.    Wadsworti, 

TN  this  degenerate,  moribund  nine- 
^  teenth  century,  in  Southern  Ontario, 
as  well  as  in  the  Eastern  States,  the 
"forest  primeval"  is  rapidly  becoming 
a  thing  of  the  past, — the  lumberman 
and  his  enemy,  the  forest  fire,  have 
both  been  at  their  work  of  destruction. 
And  year  by  year  game,  especially  of 
the  latter  kinds,  is  retreating  before 
the  ever  advancing  axe  and  plough, 
while  fish  are,  alas!  becoming  remark- 
able, more  on  account  of  their  scarcity 
than  their  size.  Perhaps,  then,  a  short 
sketch  of  agreat  land,  most  of  which  is 
still  covered  with  virgin  forest,  may  not 
prove  wholly  uninteresting. 

In  these  days  of  feverish  bustle  and 
ceaseless  hurry  the  sportsman's  time  is 

too  precious  to  waste  in  sitting  from 
early  morn  till  dewy  eve  waiting  phleg- 
matically  for  the  cautious  nibble  of  a 
satiated  cat-fish,  or  in  tramping  the 
country-side,  staggering  for  weary  miles 
under  the  weight  of  a  trusty  rifle,  in  hot 
pursuit  of  chattering  squirrels  and  de- 
riding carrion  crows.  If  he  really  wants 
to  catch  something  when  he  "goes  fish- 
ing," or  to  shoot  something  when  he 
"goes  shooting,"  he  must  strike  for 
the  wilds.  But  "the  wilds"  are  some- 
what elusive.  You  put  your  finger  on 
the  map  and  say  "  Here  !  "  But  Can- 
ada, and  especially  Ontario,  is  being 
opened  up  so  rapidly  that  the  mere  fact 
that  a  locality  is  situated  some  hun- 
dreds of  miles  from  home  and  possesses 

Digitized  byGoOgIc 


an  Indian  name  that  defies  pronuncia- 
tion is  no  guarantee  that  the    ever-ad- 
vancing wave    of  civilization    has   not 
already  encroached  upon,  perhaps  even 
engulfed,  the    place    of-  your    random 
choice.        For     instance,     some     half 
dozen  years    ago,    fired  with    talcs  of 
the    possibilities  of  Northern    Ontario 
from    the    sportsman's    standpoint,     a 
party  of  us  invaded  the  headwaters  of 
the  Ottawa— Lake  Quinze,    Lake  Kip- 
pewa  and  Lake  Temiscamingue — and 
made  them  our  scene  of  operations  for 
the  summer.      But  go  where  we  would 
the  ubiquitous  lumberman  haunted  us  to 
remind  us  of  a  civilization  from  whose 
restraints  we 
were  seeking 
to     escape. 
The       most 
beautiful      of 
the  lakes  and 
rivers     were 
robbed  of  half 
their  charms 
by    the    un- 
r  o  mantic 
"Come     in 
and    have    a 

Northern  Ontario.  For 
let  a  man  once  contract  the  camping 
fever,  he  is  subjected  with  the  return 
of  each  spring  to  a  recurrence  of  the 
malady.  With  the  advent  of  the  first 
robin  unmistakable  symptoms  show 
themselves,  and  the  attack  increases  in 
violence  until  business  becomes  an  im- 
possibility and  city  pleasures  pall. 
He  has  but  one  remedy — -a  flight  to 
the  wilds  with  rifle  and  rod.  As 
Kipling  says  : — 

"  He  must  go — go — go  away  from  here, 

On  the  other  side  Ibe  world  he's  overdue. 
'Send  your  way  is  clear   belore  you,  when 
.  the  old  spring-fret  comes  o'er  you 

And  the  Red- 
Gods  call  for  ■ 
you  ! 

"So  for  one  the 

ing  throug'h 
the  rainbow 
round       tho 

And  for  one  the 

creak  of  sn 


I    the 

;    hospit- 

boat   load    of      ^*"  '"'S""Tu^k"T^  "  ""■  ' 

wild         river-  LmpanyMdi,t,^Mi<^'m 

drivers.      It 

was  disappointing  ;  but  adapting  our- 
selves to  circumstances  we  had  a  jolly 
time,  and  incidentally  became  initiated 
into  the  mysteries  of  camp-life.  For  no 
man  knows  instinctively  how  to  keep  a 
canoe,  especially  when  deeply  laden, 
from  being  swamped  in  a  heavy  sea  ; 
how  to  guide  it  down  a  broken  rapid, 
or  even  to  portage  it  for  long  distances 
through  underbrush  or  marsh  and  over 
broken  ground.  A  canoe  trip  that 
covers  some  eight  hundred  miles  of 
waters  of  all  kinds  and  includes  three- 
score portages  is  a  good  apprenticeship 
in  the  voyagcur's  calling. 

The  following  year  we  again  spent 

Ib  their' 


e  the 

coughing     111 
the  dust. 

Who  hath  smell 

at  twilight  ? 

birch-log  burning? 
Who  is  quick  to  read  the  noises  of  the 

night  ? 
He   must   follow  wilh  Che  others,    for  the 

young  mens  feel  are  lurning 
To  the  camps  of  proved  desire  and  known 


On  our  second  trip  North,  profiting 
by  the  experience  of  the  preceding 
year,  our  party  struck  in  a  northwest- 
erly direction  from  the  head  of  Lake 
Temiscamingue,  an  expansion  of  the 
Upper  Ottawa,  across  country  by  vari- 
ous canoe-routes  to  Fort  Matagami,  a 
Hudson's  Bay  Company's  post  on  the 
northern  slope  of  the  "Height  of 
Land,"   the    watershed    between    the 

Digitized  by  Google 


Great    Lakes    and   Hudson   Bay,    and 
here  we  found  an  ideal  country  for  the 
paddler  and  sportsman,  as  yet  wholly 
unsurveyed,   and  only  explored  along 
the  main  water  routes  used  by  the  Hud- 
son's Bay  Company.      Avoiding  these 
usual  waterways,  we  passed  through  a 
track  of  forest  and  rock,  utterly  wild 
and  desolate    save  for  the  occasional 
visit  of  an    Indian  hunter  or  trapper. 
We   found,  too,  an   additional  charm 
in  this  trip 
from     the 
fact  that  we 
were      de- 
pendent for 
upon        a 
sketch    of 
our     route, 
made  for  us 
by  Big  Paul, 
an      Indian 
from     the 
Bay     Com- 
pany's post 
on     Lake 
district  has 
well      been 
ca  lied  '^a 
"  Paddler's 
From  Lake 
Huron     as 
far  north  as 
Jiitnes    Bay 
it     is    inter- 
sected in  all 

by      rivers 
and    dotted 

with  lakes.  Some  ot  these  lakes  are 
mere  ponds  ;  others,  like  Lake  Ab- 
bitibbi  and  Lake  Temiscamingue,  are 
sheets  of  water  sixty  or  seventy  miles 
in  length.  Some  are  open  ;  others 
studded  with  rocky  islands.  Temag- 
ami's  islands  outrival  those  of  the  far- 
famed  St.  Lawrence  in  their  number 
and  variety.  In  some  places  they 
form    a  veritable  labyrinth ;    at    every 

turn    the    channels    seemed     blocked 
— here  by  a  bald  fantastically -shaped 
rock,  there  by  a  pine-clad  hill  round- 
ed   and    symmetrical.     Or  take  some 
other  lake,    nestling    deep  among  its 
hills  :  here  the  shore  rises,  rocky  and 
bare,   hundreds   of  feet    sheer   out  of 
the  water;  there  the  hills  fall  back  and 
the   giant    pines    crowd    down   to  the 
water's  edge.      Into  this    little    bay  a 
stream  comes  tumbling  down  and  loses 
itself  in  the 
midst        of 
that  glisten 
in    the    sun 
and  fill  the 

— o  n e     of 
Nature's  in- 

though  this 
land  be,  life 
is  almost 
here  during 
the     early 

save  to  the 
Indian    or 


ean  black 
flies,  stag- 
flies,  and  mosquitoes — to  say  nothinj^ 
of  the  diminutive  but  blood-thirsty 
sand-flies.  The  supply  of  blood  is 
limited,  the  capacity  of  these  insects 
unbounded  ;  so  woe  betide  the  unfor- 
tunate voyageur  with  an  epidermis  less 
than  a  quarter  of  an  inch  in  thickness. 
I  was  in  the  woods  with  a  survey 
parly  one  year  during  the  fly  season, 
and  look  back  upon  that  experience  as 

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upon  a  nightmare.  I  doubt,  however, 
whether  man's  sufferings  are  as  great 
in  this  respect  as  those  of  the  unhappy 
deer  and  moose.  These  poor  creatures 
are  to  be  seen  on  everj'  lake  and  river 
standing  in  the  water  with  but  their 
heads  exposed,  oblivious  in  their  ef- 
forts to  escape  from  their  tormentors, 
even  to  the  presence  of  man.  How- 
ever, by  the  first  of  August  the  studies 
in  vivisection  of  these  pests  are  well- 
nigh  ended  ;  for  this  reason  the  canoe- 
ist will  be  wise  to  postpone  his  start 
North  until  that  date. 

For  exciting  work  to  which  a  spice 

of  danger  lends  a  charm  com- 
mend me  to  running  a  rapid. 
The  ordinary  wooden  canoe  is 
not  so  well  adapted  for  such 
work  as  the  Indian's  birch- 
bark,  which  is  so  broad  amid- 
ships that  it  can  be  turned  as 
upon  a  pivot,  while  the  long, 
narrow  wooden  canoe  is  far 
more  inclined  to  obey  the  dic- 
tates of  the  rushing  boiling 
water — dictates  prompting  it 
to  hurl  itself  on  some  knile- 
like  ledge  of  rock — than  to 
yield  to  the  wishes  of  the 
steersman  expressed  through 
the  medium  of  a  light  paddle. 
That  there  is  an  element  of 
danger  in  the  sport  is  evident 
when  one  recollects  that  the 
gunwale  of  a  loaded  canoe  is 
but  a    few  inches    above    the 

You  glide  out  on  that  dark 
smooth  slide  of  water  at  the 
head  of  the  rapid.  The  die  is 
cast,  there  is  no  turning  back. 
Just  ahead  the  dark  water  sud- 
denly breaks  into  white,  and 
the  stream  goes  tumbling  down 
in  mad  tumult  through  its 
avenue  of  trees.  The  canoe 
hurries  on  toward  the  broken 
water,  headed  for  a  narrow 
opening  between  two  project- 
ing rocks.  She  rushes  safely 
through  the  passage,  hut  the 
current  snatches  her  and  hurls 
:<ifagr.  her  straight  towards  one  of 
the  partially-covered  boulders 
with  which  the  channel  is  filled.  Too 
late  the  bowman  sees  it.  The  danger 
is  imminent ;  to  strike  would  entail 
consequences  too  serious  to  think 
of.  The  bow  of  the  canoe  is  al- 
most on  the  rock,  but  a  desperate 
stroke  of  the  paddle  thrusts  her  to  one 
side,  and  she  flies  past  the  danger  with 
no  worse  results  than  the  loss  of  some 
paint.  Down,  down,  in  a  cloud  of  spray, 
grazing  rock  after  rock  !  A  moment 
only  of  this  wildly  exhilarating  work 
and  already  the  foot  of  the  rapids  is 
reached.  Here  perhaps  lies  the  great- 
est danger,  for  the  water  is  piled  up 


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into  great  broken  waves  that  come 
leaping  after  the  canoe,  which  is 
torn  along  with  irresistible  force.  On, 
on  !  A  final  plunge  !  She  tosses  for 
a  moment  like  a  cork,  then  shoots  out 
into  calm  water,  whose  circling  eddies 
betray  the  struggles  of  the  mighty  cur- 
rent still  surging  below  the  surface. 

The  portage-paths  are  usually  quite 
distinct  and  easy  to  follow  on  the  cus- 
tomary canoe-routes,  but  away  from 
these  a  path,  or  even  an  apology  for  one, 
is  an  unknown  luxury.  Here  the  only 
guide  that  one  has  through  the  thick 
underbrush  is  an  intermittent  line  of 
"blazed"  trees,  and  when  the 
marks  of  the  axe  become 
partly  obliterated  by  age  or 
hidden  by  the  underbrush, 
what  is  there  to  guide  one  ? 
Nor  are  the  difficulties  of 
keeping  in  the  "narrow way" 
lessened  to  any  material  ex- 
tent when  one  is  buried  under 
a  canoe  and  overwhelmed,  in 
addition,  with  a  crushing  load 
of  cam'p-impedimenfa.  How 
jauntily  you  sling  the  canoe 
upon  your  shoulders,  adjust 
your  load,  and  set  out  at  a 
trot  over  some  portage.  For 
the  first  hundred  yards  the 
forest  is  quite  open,  but  the  . 
underbrush  becomes  thicker, 
and  your  pace  soon  slackens. 
Here  a  large  tree  has  blown 
down  across  the  portage,  and 
you  must  push  your  way 
through  the  bushes  to  get 
around  it.  It  is  difficult  to 
force  the  canoe  through  the 
tangle  of  branches,  but  at 
length  the  obstacle  is  passed. 
Now  you  find  yourself  in  a 
damp  marshy  spot  where  the 
feet  sink  deep  at  every  step. 
Vou  are  cheered,  however, 
by  the  sight  of  a  stretch  of 
bare  rock  ahead — anything 
but  this  awful  bog.  The  rock 
is  reached  but  all  trace  of 
the  path  disappears.  Not  a 
"i/iMf,"  not  even  a  broken 
twig!  You  are  confident  of 
the    direction,    however,    and        Hmfivin, 

push  on  and  on,  until  a  perpendicular 
cliff  bars  your  advance,  and  bears  un- 
mistakable witness  to  your  faulty  judg- 
ment. Nothing  for  it  but  to  turn 
back  !  But  it  is  soon  certain  that  you 
have  lost  your  bearings.  You  put  down 
the  canoe  and  look  around  for  some 
landmark.  None  !  Profanity  affords 
so  little  relief  that  in  despair,  you  de- 
termine to  strike  again  into  the  thicket 
vainly  hoping  to  find  the  line  of  blazed 
trees  once  more. 

Only  one  who  has  actually  experi- 
enced it  knows  the  tremendous  expen- 
diture   of   moral    courage  it   takes   to 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 


shoulder  that  load  again  in  cold  blood. 
The  spirit  says  "Go,"  the  flesh, 
"  Stay,"  You  go  and  prove  the  supe- 
riority of  mind  over  matter.  The  deep- 
er you  go  the  thicker  becomes  the 
underbrush.  Despair  seizes  you.  The 
weig;ht  of  the  canoe  bruises  your  shoul- 
ders, the  dunnage-bag  on  your  back 
becomes  a  combination  of  corners  and 
lumps,  the  rifle  in  your  hand  catches 
in  every  bush.  You  stagger  on,  nearly 
blinded  by  perspiration  ;  your  knees  are 
ready  to  collapse.  In  utter  anguish  you 
groan  and  say  with  the  poet,  "The 
burden  laid  upon  me  is  greater  than  I 
can  bear," — But  all  things,  good  or  bad, 
must  end  sometime.  The  supreme  mo- 
ment   comes 



feel  that  yoi 
must  give  up 
— when  Joy  ! 
—  a  broken 
twig,  ablazed 
tree  —  you 
have  found 
the    portage. 

md    towards 

J    of   £ 


trip  even  wel- 
comes it  as  a 
change   from 

paddling.  Indians  finishinc 

Much  de- 
pends, of  course,  on  the  way  in  which 
the  load  is  adjusted  and  pack-strap  fast- 
ened. When  portages  of  two  and  even 
three  miles  are  not  infrequent,  every 
extra  pound  counts,  and  supplies  must 
be  curtailed  as  much  as  possible  if 
everything  is  to  be  carried  across  the 
portage  in  one  trip.  Only  the  plainest 
and  strongest  foods  should  be  taken — 
"  multum  in  parvo "  is  the  motto. 
Flour,  pork,  beans,  salt  and  tea  are 
necessaries— so  perhaps  are  rice,  dried 
apples  and  a  few  pounds  of  sugar.  On 
such  fare,  supplemented  by  fish,  game 
and  berries  a  man  can  live  like  a  prince. 
This  canoe-trip  through  Northern 
Ontario  offers  great  opportunities  to  a 

man  with  anything  of  the  sportsman  in 
him.  At  different  times  during  the 
last  six  summers  I  have  paddled 
through  this  district  in  all  directions — 
as  far  north  as  Lake  Abbitibb!  and 
Fort  Matachewan,  the  Hudson  Bay 
Company's  post  on  the  Montreal 
River,  and  as  far  west  as  Lake  Mata- 
gami  and  Lake  Biscotasing.  Mata- 
gami  and  Abbitibbi  lie  to  the  north  of 
the  Height  of  Land,  and  their  waters 
flow  into  James  Bay.  The  more  one 
sees  of  the  land  the  more  he  is  im- 
pressed with  the  fact  that  the  country 
is  simply  a  vast  natural  park  stocked 
with  game,  lish  and  fur-bearing  ani- 
mals of  many  varieties. 

It  IS  very 
seldom  tha't 
the  "Tender- 
foot "  comes 
across  a  bear 
in  this  thickly- 
wooded  coun- 
try, no  matter 
how  ardent  a 

may  be  ;  lor 
Bruin  has  an 
that    his  hide 

fifteen  dollars 

post,  and  con- 
sequently always  tries  to  avoid  nolice. 
Only  in  the  early  summer  or  when 
wounded  and  brought  to  bay  will  he 
attack  man.  Personally  I  have  as- 
sisted at  the  shooting  of  but  one  bear 
(and  a  cold-blooded  murder  it  was), 
but  the  Indians  get  a  great  many — gen- 
erally, however,  in  the  autumn  or 
spring  and  with  the  aid  of  traps.  Fas- 
tened on  the  trees  in  front  of  one  In- 
dian hut  I  counted  no  fewer  than 
eighty-four  bear-skulls.  Near  Fort 
Matachewan  another  Indian  has  set  up 
a  similar  proof  of  his  prowess.  Last 
winter  two  Indian  boys  from  Lake 
Temagami,  one  thirteen  and  the  other 
fifteen,     trapped  and   killed   nine  bear 

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during  the  season.      For    six   months 
these  two  boys  lived  alooe  in  the  for- 
est,  many  miles  from  home.      It  is  a 
rough  school,  but  one   that   turns  out 
men  of  splendid  physique  and  great  en- 
durance.     No   "  degenerate  red  men" 
are  these  Indians,  whose  lives  are  spent 
in    the  toils  and  hardships  of  hunting 
and  trapping. 
My  first  ex- 
perience with 
a    bear   long 
furnished      a 
subject     of 
banter        io 
camp.   It  was 
long',     long 
ago,  so  1  do 
□ot  mind  tell- 
ing the  story. 
Two    of    us, 
"The  Waif" 
and      myself, 
had  left  camp 
in  a  canoe  to 
g«t    a  pailful 
of     berries. 

We      were  a  gorge  on  t 

young  and 
very  verdant, 
and  had  great 
faith  in  the 
ferocity  of  the 
bear  nature. 
A  short  pad- 
dle brought 
us  to  an  open 
space  which 
promised  to 
be  a  good 
spot  for  blue- 
berries. The 
ground  was 
very    rough 

and     broken,  falls  on  brlnsw 

and        was 

strewn  with  large  masses  of  rock  which 
had  fallen  from  the  cliff  above.  We 
landed,  leaving  the  rifle  in  the  canoe,  and 
set  to  work.  The  berries  were  plenti- 
ful ;  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  having 
filled  my  pail,  I  was  ready  to  return  to 
camp.  "  The  Waif,"  I  knew,  was  near 
me.  because  for  several  minutes  I  had 

heard  him  moving  about  just  on  the 
other  side  of  the  large  mass  of  fallen 
rock  behind  which  I  was  seated  pick- 
ing.     1  stood  up  to  tell  him  that  I  was 

ready  logo.    "Come  on ~,"but  I  got 

no  further.  It  is  rather  disconcerting, 
to  say  the  least,  to  glance  over  a 
rock  expecting  to  see  a  friend,  and  in- 
stead to  find 
oneself  face 
to  face  with 
a  bear  in  the 
act  of  raiding 
your  berry- 
patch.       But 



I  the 

in  which  I 
found  myself. 
I  am  natural- 
ly impulsive, 
and  now,  act- 
ing   on     the 

for  the  rifle 
(as     I     have 

t  a  i  n  e  d  , 
though  opin- 
ions have 
differed  on 
this  point). 
Neither  did 
Bruin  alto- 
gether retain 



ure  ;  he  had 
been  as  much 
taken  by  sur- 
prise as  I  had, 
for  a  heavy 
wind  blow- 
icK  HOUSE  RIVER.  ing     dircctly 

towards  us 
bad  played  havoc  with  his  powers 
of  scent.  So,  considering  his  hide 
of  more  value  to  himself  than  to 
the  Hudson  Bay  Company,  Bruin  ran 
too,  in  groundless  terror,  and  with  such 
precipitation  that  he  failed  to  notice 
"The  Waif,"  who  was  still  calmly 
picking  berries  some  fifty  yards  away. 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 


the  right- 
eous fury 
of  that 
exact!  n  g 
Deiiy , 
the  Can- 

p  a  r  t  - 
ridge  — 

s  of  the  stirring  events  that 
were  taking  place  so  near  him.  Crash ! 
"The  Waif"  looked  up.  A  bear! 
Thirsting  for  human  blood,  perhaps  ! 
The  occasion  called  for  presence  of 
mind  and  immediate  action.  Would 
he,  like  David,  attack  the  bear  un- 
armed and  slay  bJm,  or  would  he 
get  the  rifle  and  despatch  him  in  the 
orthodox  manner?  It  would  certainly 
be  far  more  picturesque  to  dash  his 
brains  out  with  the  tin  berry-pail,  but 
death  by  shooting  appeared  less  pain- 
ful. Far  be  it  from  "The  Waif"  to 
cause  unnecessary  suffering  ;  and,  like 
myself,  he  also  ran  for  the  rifle.  Perhaps 
there  was  some  little  delay  while  we 
collected  our  thoughts  and  firearms, 
perhaps  we  were  a  little  too  cautious 
in  our  advance- — whatever  the  reason, 
when  we  reached  the  berry-patch  the 
bear  was  gone.  As  soon  as  we  were 
convinced  that  he  was  really  nowhere 
in  the  neighbourhood,  we  redoubled 
our  efforts  to  And  him,  but,  alas  !  in 
vain — that  bear's  discretion  had  saved 
his  life. 

Among  the  victims  immolated  on  the 
camp-fire  as  votive  oflferings  to  appease 

and  por- 
ridge  of 

4E    HINTING    GROVNDS.  WOodsaf- 

ford  little 
or  no  sport,  being  stupid  and  tame 
to  a  degree.  1  have  seen  a  whole 
covey  brought  down  one  by  one  from 
a  tree  in  which  they  had  taken  re- 
fuge— decapitated  with  the  rifle.  It  was 
interesting  work  from  the  markman's 
standpoint,  but  no  doubt  unsportsman- 
like ;  but  then  it  is  also  unsportsman- 
like to  feel  hungry  or  long  for  a  change 
from  fish  and  salt  pork.  Even  the 
most  scrupulous  sportsman  could, 
doubtless,  compound  with  hi.";  consci- 
ence while  demolishing  a  liberal  help- 
ing of  pot-pie  with  partridge  as  the 
main  ingredient. 

"Porcupine"  does  not  sound  appe- 
tizing, but  roasted  in  the  ashes,  quills 
and  all,  it  is  delicious.  Among  the 
Indians  it  used  to  dispute  with  beaver 
the  title  of  the  piece  de  resistance  at 
their  great  feasts.  Porcupine  are  still 
plentiful,  but  the  days  of  the  beaver 
seem  numbered.  The  "beaver-mea- 
dows "  that  one  finds  on  every  little 
stream  show  how  numerous  at  one 
time  these  valuable  animals  were.  But 
nowadays  it  is  only  on  the  most  re- 
mote rivers  and  lakes  that  they  can 
be  found.     They  are,  however,  by  no 

:y  Google 

means  yet  extinct,  for  every  winter  a 
considerable  number  are  trapped  by 
the  Indians.  In  spite  gf  our  Ontario 
Game  Laws  the  traders  buy  all  the 
skiDS  they  can  obtain,  to  hold  them 
till  the  close  season  for  beaver  cKpires  in 
[900,  when  they  will  place  them  on  the 
market.  In  the  earty  days  before  the 
advent  of  the  white  trapper,  and  even 
b  recent  years,  each  Indian  had  a  re- 
ci^nized  district  in  which  he  trapped. 
Thus,  when  a  man  found  a  colony  of 
beaver,  he  could  often  leave  them  un- 
disturbed for  a  couple  of  years  to  mul- 
liply  and  grow  in  size.  Nowadays  in 
^If-defence  he  must  kill  the  goose 
that  lays  the  golden  egg,  for  fear  that 
some  stranger  will  find  his  treasure — 
for  a  colony  of  beaver  are  a  valuable 
asset,  when  the  Hudson  Bay  Compauy 
will  give  from  eight  to  ten  dollars 
worth  of  goods  for  a  large  skin. 

I  have  several  times  seen  the  large 
conical  "beaver-lodges"  built  of  the 
trunks  of  saplings  in  a  sandy  bay  of 
«)me  lake,  but  only  once  have  I  come 
across  one  of  the  famous  "  beaver- 
dams."     Returning  to  camp  one  after- 

VC  ,57 

noon  with  a  bag  of  partridge,  I  was 
pushing  my  way  through  a  thicket  of 
small  saplings,  endeavouring  to  follow 
the  course  of  a  creek,  when  I  came 
upon  a  place  where  many  of  the  smaller 
trees  had  apparently  been  chopped 
off  near  the  ground.  Nothing  but  the 
stumps  remained,  and  everywhere  there 
were  scattered  large  chips  ;  the  work 
was  done  as  neatly  as  if  with  an  axe. 
I  knew  that  I  must  be  near  a  colony 
of  beaver,  and  a  short  distance  farther 
down  stream  found  the  village  of 
these  woodcutters.  The  creek  widened 
out  into  a  fairly  large  pond  ;  in  it  were 
four  of  the  unmistakable  beaver-lodges. 
The  reason  for  the  widening  of  the 
stream  was  not  far  to  seek,  for  across 
the  foot  of  the  pond  was  a  convex  line 
of  branches  and  saplings,  denuded 
of  bark  and  partly  covered  with  mud, 
perhaps  not  the  marvel  of  engineering 
skill,  of  which  we  read  in  our  school- 
books  (for  the  branches  were  certainly 
not  dovetailed  into  one  another),  but 
an  extraordinary  piece  of  work,  never- 

(To  be  concluded  next  month.) 


MUSIC,  what  art  thou  not  !  The  soul  of  things  : 
The  lyre  of  Amphion'in  the  Theban  eve 
Moving  the  stones  ;  or  when  great  Orpheus  sin 
The  trees  and  rocks  Olympian  places  leave. 

Music  !  the  soft  employment  of  far  spheres, 
Where  they  alone  can  hear  their  drifted  song  ; 
The  deep  inspirer  of  the  joy  divine 

That  wakes  returning  years  ; 
The  blissful  voice  of  the  great  vernal  throng, 

That  from  Apollo  brought  their  lyrics  fine. 

O  !  nightingale,  singing  o'er  Orpheus'  grave. 
At  lone  Libethra,  in  the  Grecian  night. 
What  classic  woe  is  thine  !  What  love  can  save 

Thee  from  thy  grief  and  from  thy  mournful  plight ! 
Yet  sing,  thou  kin  of  singing  stars  sublime  ; 
Orpheus  yet  hears  thee  on  Olympus'  side  ; 

His  lyre  and  soul  move  with  thee  through  the  spring, 
Hymning  the  golden  time, 

.\nd  Argonauts  upon  the  ocean  wide. 

And  sirens,  his  unmatched  song  silencing. 

John  Stuart  Thomson. 

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TT  has  often  been  said  that  so  far  in 
-^  her  history  Canada  has  produced 
no  great  divines,  no  great  linguist,  no 
poet  of  more  than  ordinary  merit,  and 
no  prose  writer  whose  works  are  much 
above  mediocrity.  This  may  be  true, 
and  the  wonder  would  be  if  it  was  not 
so.  The  conditions  of  Canadian  life 
up  to  a  very  recent  date  have  not  been 
favourable  to  those  who  would  excel  in 
literature  or  the  sciences.  The  battle 
for  tlie  necessities  of  life  for  the  vast 
mass  of  Canadians  has  been  too  keen 
to  permit  parents  to  give  their  children, 
even  if  of  exceptional  ability,  the  bene- 
fit of  early  and  constant  scholastic 
training.  The  consequence  has  been 
that,  though  Canada  may,  and  doubt- 
less does,  possess  men  who,  under 
more  favourable  circumstances,  would 
have  become  noted  in  the  literary  or 
scientific  world,  these  latter  have  be- 
come mere  units  in  the  "  Oi  noXXoi"  of 
everyday  life.  They  are  excellent  in 
their  way  and  in  their  own  circle, 
"only  that  and  nothing  more." 

But  true  as  the  foregoing  assertions 
may  be  as  regards  the  men  who  have 
devoted  their  lives  and  energies  to  lit- 
erature in  its  various  forms,  to  theol- 
ogy or  to  the  fine  arts,  the  same  thing 
cannot  be  said  of  the  men  who  have 
taken  up  the  financial  and  business 
concerns  of  the  Dominion.  They 
have  succeeded  in  making  Canada  not 
a  mere  cluster  of  disjointed  provinces, 
cities,  towns  and  villages,  so  far  as 
business  is  concerned,  but  a  great 
commercial  nation  with  a  vast  export 
and  import  trade,  and  with  credit  on 
the  Exchanges  of  Europe  second  only 
to  that  of  the  Mother  Country  itself. 

For  able  bankers,  for  shrewd  finan- 
ciers, for  the  most  capable  of  em- 
ployers of  labour,  Canada  has  never 
had  to  go  outside  her  own  boundaries. 
These    men    have  been    home  grown. 

of  native  production,  "  racy  of  the 

One  of  the  most  notable  among  the 
men  who  have  done  yeoman  service  to 
Canadian  commerce  is  Mr.  B.  E. 
Walker,  the  general  manager — the 
commander-in-chief,  so  to  speak — of 
the  small  army  of  managers  and  clerks 
who,  subject  to  the  Board  of  Direc- 
tors, conducts  the  affairs  of  the  Cana- 
dian Bank  of  Commerce.  This  bank, 
with  its  branches  in  all  parts  of  the 
Dominion,  with  its  correspondents  in 
all  the  chief  cities  of  Great  Britain,  Ire- 
land and  Europe,  with  agents  in  India, 
Ceylon,  Japan  and  Australia,  is,  as  are 
some  other  similar  concerns,  one  of  the 
marvels  of  Canadian  progress.  Forty 
years  ago  such  institutions  were  not 
even  dreamed  of;  most  people  thought 
they  were  not  wanted,  that  they  could 
not  be  made  to  pay.  Far-seeing  men 
were,  though,  of  a  different  opinion, 
and  acted  on  it;  the  supply  of  banking 
facilities  created  a  demand,  and  at  the 
present  time  the  amount  on  deposit  in 
the  various  country  branches  of  our 
banking  institutions,  excluding  the 
cities  in  lolo,  is  greater  in  amount  than 
was  the  case  torty  years  since  in  the 
entire  district  formed  by  the  present 
provinces  of  Ontario  and  Quebec.  It 
is  but  sixty-five  years  ago  that  a 
customer  established  a  "record"  at 
the  Bank  of  Upper  Canada  by  deposit- 
ing and  having  to  his  credit  "all  at 
once"  the  then  enormous  sum  of  ^^3,- 
000  sterling,  or  $15,000! 

Byron  E.  Walker  is  a  native 
Canadian,  was  born  tn  Haldimand, 
Ontario,  a  little  more  than  fifty  years 
ago,  and  was  educated  at  the  public 
schools.  He  commenced  his  business 
career  in  Hamilton  as  a  clerk  to  his 
uncle,  Mr.  J.  W.  Murton,  a  private 
banker  in  the  "Ambitious  City."  In 
1868,    before   he   had   completed    his 

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twentieth    year,    he    had    entered    the 
Bank  of  Commerce.      So  zealously  did 
he   discharge   his  duties,  so  well  did 
he     fulfil     the     apostolic     injunction, 
"  whatsoever  thy  hand  findeth  thee  to 
do,  do  it  with 
thy      might," 
that    in     four 
years' time  he, 

ling  of  twenty- 
four  years, 
was  account' 
ant  in  the  head 
office,  Toron- 
to. After  this 
he  became 
third  agent  of 
the  bank  in 
New  York  ; 
Manager  at 
Ont. ;  Mana- 
ger at  Lon- 
don, Inspec- 
tor of  the 
bank.  Mana- 
ger at    Ham- 



agent  at  New 
York,  and  fin- 
ally, in  Oc- 
tober,      1 886, 


Canadian  Bankers'  Association  ;  and  is 
also  a  trustee  and  senator  of  Toronto 
University.     In  addition  to  these  offi- 
ces he  is  president  of   the    Canadian 
Institute,  a    Kellow  of  the  Geological 
Society       of 
England,  and 
also  a  director 
of  the  Canada 
But   this  is 


Mr.  Wal- 

posed  suc- 

our  sys- 
tem of 

with    that  IN  1870. 

pursued  in 

the  United  States.  He  has  been 
chairman  of  the  banking  section  of 
the  Board  of  Trade  ;  first  a  vice- 
president  then   twice  president  of  the 

all  : 


sion      spare 
time    to    pre- 
side at  a  meet- 
men's  Art  As- 
sociation      or 
to     attend     a 
banquet  given 
by     Canadian 
authors.      He 
has       himself 
written    most 
lucidly    and 
banking,      on 
Italian  art  and 
on      bimetall- 
ism.       These 
include  a  tol- 
e  rably 
range    of 

yet  Mr. 
has  writ- 
ten on  no 
which  has 
not  ac- 
quired in- 

his  articles,  from   the  mere   fact  that 
he  has  discussed  it. 

Politically  Mr.  Walker  is  said  to  be 
a  Liberal.      He  is  probably  more  of  -t 

Digitized  byGoO^IC 



"  Philosophic  Radical  "  than  anything; 
else,  his  publicly-expressed  views  coin- 
ciding in  many  important  respects  with 
those  of  John  Stuart  Mill,  Henry  Faw- 
cett  and  Auberon  Herbert.  With 
vain  theories  such  as  the  abolition  in 
Canada  of  all  monarchical  forms  of 
government  and  the  substitution  of  a 
pure  democracy,  Mr.  Walker  has  no 
sympathy — they  are  of  no  practical 
value  ;  he  has  to  use  a  homely  phrase, 
"no  use  for  them  or  their  supporters." 
He  is  a  man  of  the  people,  whose  aim  is 
to  serve  well  those  from  whom  he  has 
sprung.  He  is  not  insensible  to  hon- 
ours when  duly  earned  ;  what 
thoughtful  man  is?  And  he  appre- 
ciates, as  he  has  the  right  to  do,  the 
comfortable    home    and    pleasant  sur- 

roundings which  are  his.  He  owes 
them  to  his  own  industry,  his  own  en- 
ergy ;  and  may  he  be  spared  many 
years  to  enjoy  them. 

Mr.  Walker  married  just  twenty-five 
years  ago  Miss  Alexander,  of  Hamil- 
ton. It  may  be  remarked  without 
being  considered  impertinent  that  in 
his  choice  of  a  wife  Mr.  Walker  dis- 
played his  usual  excellent  judgment. 
Mr,  and  Mrs.  Walker  have  a  son  who 
bids  fair  to  take  a  prominent  place  in 
the  scientific  world. 

It  is  to  be  hoped  the  time  is  yet  dis- 
tant when  the  epitaph  of  Mr.  Walker 
will  have  to  be  written.  But  he  would 
wish  no  better  than  this:  "Write  me 
as  one  who  served  his  fellow-men." 

T.  E.  C. 



HOSANNA  !  Hosanna  !  B^oi 
soit  Dieu.  Gloire  k  celui  qui 
vient  sauver  le  monde,"  sang  a  quaint 
voice  on  the  shores  of  the  Ottawa  one 
May  evening  just  as  the  sun  was  set- 

"I  say,  Jack,  that  last  bit  sounds 
very  well  in  French— 1  like  it  better 
than  in  English,"  said  a  cheery  voice. 

The  speaker,  Tom  Shelton,  was  a 
large,  powerful,  good-natured  medical 
student,  who,  after  a  winter  of  severe 
study,  was  taking  a  canoe  trip  from 
Ottawa  to  Montreal  as  a  much-needed 
recreation.  His  companion.  Jack  Hal- 
borough,  was  of  a  delicate,  nervous 
disposition,  passionately  fond  of  music, 
and  the  possessor  of  a  voice  fascinat- 
ing in  its  quaintness. 

It  was  the  evening  of  the  third  day 
of  their  voyage,  and  they  had  decided 
to  pitch  their  tent  on  the  west  shore 
below  the  Long  Sault  Rapids,  which 
they  had  just  "  run."  In  choosing  the 
spot  for  the  camp,  they  discovered  the 
little  Rideau  River  which  falls  over 
the  abrupt  bank  of  the  Ottawa  at  this 

part.  The  beauty  of  the  stream  with 
its  enticing  trout  pools  was  not  to  be 
resisted,  and  they  soon  had  their  canoe 
hauled  up,  tent  pitched,  and  prepara- 
tions made  for  the  night.  Tom  had 
his  rod  out  trying  to  increase  their  bill- 
of-fare,  and  Jack  was  watching  him 
from  the  tent  and  singing  snatches  of 
familiar  songs.  The  echoes  of  the 
song  had  scarcely  died  away  when  an 
old,  weather-beaten  man  came  up  the 
bank  carrying  a  peeled  willow  fishing- 
pole  in  one  hand  and  a  long  string  of 
fish  in  the  other.  The  old  fisherman 
appeared  slightly  stooped  and  very 
wrinkled  in  countenance.  His  straight 
black  hair,  with  all  its  lustre  retained 
in  spite  of  his  ninety  years  of  age,  his 
high  cheek  bones,  dark  restless  eyes, 
and  copper-tinted  skin,  all  proclaimed 
a  taint  of  Indian  blood  inherited  from 
his  forefathers. 

It  was  evident  that  the  song  had  at- 
tracted him,  for  he  came  over  to  a  seat 
by  the  tent  exclaiming  the  while  : 
"  Cest  beau!  c'est  beau.'  encore!  en- 
core!"    Jack  rather  hesitated  at  first. 

:y  Google 



but,  after  renewed  demands  on  the 
part  of  the  old  fisherman,  sang  song 
after  song,  chiefly  in  French,  with  the 
effect  of  fascinating  his  listener  more 
aod  more.  In  fact,  Tom  realized  that 
the  listener  had  been  passing  through 
the  stage  of  admiration  and  fascination 
until  he  approached  that  stage  of  men- 
tal subjugation  which  is  akin  to  mes- 
merism. As  Tom  had  given  up  fish- 
ing; and  gone  to  prepare  supper.  Jack, 
hoping  to  draw  out  the  old  man,  com- 
plimented him  on  his  fine  string  of  fish 
and  offered  to  buy  some  of  them.  The 
old  fisherman  was  greatly  incensed  at 
being  offered  money  for  them  by  the 
"  bourgeois,"  and  immediately  began 
to  prepare  them  after  his  own  primi- 
tive way.  The  boys  watched  him  with 
interest,  and  could  not  but  admire  his 
results  in  cooking.  The  meal  over, 
the  old  man  produced  his  pipe,  and, 
with  that  deliberation  of  movement 
seen  only  after  a  satisfying  meal,  pro- 
ceeded to  fill  and  light  it.  As  in 
shadowy  curls  the  smoke  arose  in  the 
cool  night  air,  the  smoker  glanced 
from  it  to  the  face  of  the  singer  and 
back  again.  In  the  wreaths  of  rising 
smoke  he  seemed  to  see  some  ghostly 
visitor,  and  his  rapidly-shifting  gaze 
suggested  the  idea  that  he  was  compar- 
ing the  living  with  the  dead.  After  a  few 
minutes  of  uninterrupted  observation, 
he  appeared  satisfied,  his  face  relaxed, 
and  he  gave  a  grunt  of  conviction. 
Jack,  hoping  to  learn  more  of  their 
singular  visitor,  remarked:  "This 
must  have  been  a  fine  hunting-ground 
years  ago." 

For  some  time  this  remark  elicited 
no  response,  but  finally  the  old  hunter 
turned  to  Jack  and  said  :  "You  know 
all  'bout  mon  grandpere  Francois  Le- 
bceuf?  Non  ?  C'est  curieux,  because 
he  use  for  sing  jus'  like  you."  After 
gazing  into  the  fire  and  silently  draw- 
ing his  pipe  a  few  breaths  he  resumed : 
"  Francois,  he's  be  great  hunterman — 
de  bees  man  for  catch  de  castor  1  never 
see.  He's  leevon  de  wood  all  de  tam, 
an'  never  sleep  on  de  house.  He's 
show  me  how  for  catch  dc  fish,  an' 
shoot  de  moose  an'  caribou;  but  one 
day  he  pass  on  hees  canoe  for  make  a 

long  voyage.  He  paddle  down  de  Ot- 
tawa an'  St.  Lawrence  so  far  as  de 
Richelieu,  an'  den  he  pass  up  de  Riche- 
lieu till  he  reach  de  big  lake.  Dere 
he's  cachi  his  canoe  an'  pass  on  dose 
ole  Iroquois  hunting-groun'.  I  'pose 
he  ^o  over  dere  for  die,  for  he  never 
come  back  no  more.  Vou  see  hee 
leeve  dere  long  time  ago,  was  '  beeg 
man'  in  Iroquois  camp,  when  lots  of 
Iroquois  stay  dere.  Mon  grandpere, 
he  never  say  much  'bout  dat  time,  but 
ma  grandmere  she  be  Iroquois  squaw, 
and  she  tole  me  lots,  all  'bout  his  fader 
an'  his  grandfader.  She  tole  me  dat 
his  gran'fader  was  so  great  man  for 
sing,  dat  when  he  be  prisonnier,  de 
beeg  medicine-man  was  come  to  his 
wigwam  for  make  de  talk  wid  him.  I 
be  sure  me,  dat  U  ban  Dieu  was  help 
him  much,  for  after  dat  he's  be  make 
marii  wid  de  daughter  of  de  chief,  and 
den  be  great  medicine-man." 

The  old  man  had  such  an  earnest 
way  of  speaking  that  his  listeners  were 
carried  away  with  him,  and  pictured  to 
themselves  a  lone,  weary  captive,  in  a 
cheerless  wigwam,  expecting  a  hor- 
rible death  by  torture,  raising  his  voice 
in  prayer  and  song  to  the  great  God 
who  rules  us  all. 

After  a  few  moments  Jack  queried  : 
"And  did  he  not  try  to  escape?" 

"No  use  for  dat,"  resumed  the  hun- 
ter, "he's  kill  too  many  brave  in  battle 
to  be  loose  like  dat," 

"You  see  dat  bush  on  de  fiel'  near 
by  the  reever  side  ?  Oest  bten  !  dat  is 
where  he  fight — long  time  ago— avec  le 
Capitaine  Dollard. 

"  De  Iroquois  on  dat  time  be  great 
warrior,  have  many  village  wid  pi.enty 
wigwam  on  de  oder  side  de  St.  Law- 
rence. All  de  tribe  have  decided  for 
pass  on  Canada  in  de  spring  and  kill 
all  de  Frenchman,  get  plenty  scalp, 
and  boss  all  de  countree.  Dollard  wa-s 
brave  sodger  man  from  La  Belle 
France.  He's  take  wid  htm  sixteen 
camarade,  an'  afer  dey  say  deir  las' 
mass,  dey  pass  on  canoe  up  de  Ottawa 
to  meet  les  sauvages.  1  tink,  me,  dose 
man  be  more  brave  dan  dey  be  now, 
for  dey  make  prepare  to  die,  an'  pass 
up  so  far  as  here  where  de  Sault  stop 

Digitized  byGoOgIc 



dem — and  all  de  t!me  dey  know  so 
well  dey  never  see  deir  frien'  again. 
Over  dere  by  dat  bush  dey  was  place 
deir  camp  an'  make  use  some  ole  pali- 
sade dey  find.  In  few  day  de  Iroquois 
was  shoot  le  Sault,  an'  be  very  please 
dey  find  some  scalp  so  soon." 

A  few  more  puffs  at  the  pipe,  and  a 
careful  study  of  the  rising  smoke  fol- 
lowed this,  and  he  resumed  : 

"  On  stormy  night  when  I  smoke  by 
de  fire  it  seem  to  me  I  see  jus'  how  dat 
fight  was  carry  on.  De  wind  in  de 
leave  an'  tall  pine  tree  was  seem  like 
de  howl  of  many  brave  as  dey  rush  for 
break  de  palisade  an'  kill  dose  few 
Frenchman.  I  seem  to  see  dose  poor 
man  how  dey  fight  all  day,  an'  when 
de  night  was  come  must  fight  some 
more,  while  les  sauvages  try  for  burn 
de  palisade.  I  see  so  plain  how 
Frenchman  dat's  feel  like  die,  is  do 
hees  bess'  for  eat  his  meat  an'  corn 
with  not'ing  for  drink.  I  see  him 
stop — he's  be  so  tirsty,  an'  den  I  see 
one  tall  brave  man  pass  down  de 
reever  an'  bring  him  back  some  water, 
while  de  sauvage  do  deir  bess'  for  kill 
him.  1  see  many  night  follow  many 
day,  an'  all  de  time  1  see  dose  braver 
man  was  fight,  an'  pray,  an'  sing,  more 
sure  each  day  dey  soon  would  see  deir 
King.  I  see  more  Iroquois  in  large 
canoe  pass  up  de  Ottawa  to  join  in  de 
.  grande  attack.  Dey  fight  an'  fight 
some  more,  an'  lose  so  many  brave 
dey  be  some  'fraid  dey  mus'  go  back 
an'  lose  dose  scalp.  An'  den  when  de 
fire  burn  low  I  see  so  plain  how  dose 
poor  man  was  get  so  weak  dey  hardly 
can  shoot  deir_^m/.  Some  was  wound 
an'  some  was  dead,  while  de  mos'  brave 
sauvage  prepare  for  make  de  las'  at- 
tack. In  de  howl  of  de  wind  I  hear 
de  many  warhoop  as  dey  try  for  break 
de  palisade,  an'  as  de  wind  make  strong 
de  fire  until  it  be  dead,  so  dose  war- 
hoop  make  strong  dose  weak  man 
until  dey  too  be  dead.  When  de  fire 
go  out,  1  look  up  at  de  sky,  an'  dere 
among  de  cloud  an'  star  I  see  so  clear 
all  de  same  brave  face  as  of  dose  ole 
voyttgeurs,  an'  if  de  wind  blow  sofF,  I 
hear  dose  ole,  ole  song  dey  use'  to  sing 
as  dey  wait  on  dis  bank  for  detr  las' 

fight.  Den  de  leeve  an' de  wind  an'  de 
rapide  in  de  reever  all  join  for  sing 
dat  grand  chanson,  ^  Beni  a  Dieu.' 
Sometime  I  wish  for  chances  for  be 
brave  an'  please  le  ban  Dieu,  like  dat, 
but  dey  never  seem  to  come  at  all. 
Den  1  be  glad  for  know  dat  mon parent 
Francois  Lebceuf  have  fight  dat  time, 
an'  help  for  save  his  Canada,  an'  dat 
les  Iroqtiois  was  carry  him  home  after 
dat  long  fight  for  make  de  great  tor- 
ture an'  maybe  burn  'live.  He  be  mos' 
dead  when  dey  arrive,  an'  so  dey  leave 
him  few  days  for  come  more  strong,  so 
he's  make  more  better  de  many  torture. 

"  But  dis  le  bon  Dieu  would  not  al- 
low, so  he's  join  de  tribe,  an'  tnarii  de 
daughter  of  de  chief.  Ma  grandmere 
tole  me  dat  he's  be  drown  on  Niagara 
when  he's  try  for  save  some  poor  squaw 
from  pass  over  £3  cAu/f.  Even  de  waters 
seem  to  know  dat  he's  be  brave  man,  for 
dey  pass  him  on  de  shore  jus'  same  as 
'fore  he  be  drown — wid  a  smile  on  his 
face — na' ordinatrement  dere  be  noting 
leff  at  all  of  man  dat  pass  over  la  chute. 
De  Iroquois  be  very  scare  'bout  dat, 
an'  many  de  story  I  hear  tole  how  de 
Great  Spirit  was  talk  wid  him  at  night, 
an'  how  dey  was  arrange  together  all 
de  raid  an'  hunt  an'  everyting. 

"  For  long  time  dey  not  bury  him, 
but  tink  his  spirit  be  gone  wid  de  Great 
Spirit  for  make  little  visit  in  de  happy 
hunting  groun' ;  praps  dey  be  right,  for 
I  be  sure  if  he  once  be  dere,  he  never 
like  for  come  back  again  among  dose 
lazy  Indian  dog. 

"  Dey  say  dat  where  he  pass  over  la 
chule  some  little  islan' grow  up  on  dat 
spot  an'  make  divide  la  chute.  Maybe 
dat's  so  ;  but  I  tink,  me,  dat  Indian  be 
so  scare  he  don't  see  islan'  before." 

A  few  long  puffs  at  the  pipe,  after  a 
swift,  keen  glance  at  the  darkening  sky 
and  forest,  and  he  continued  : — 

"  I  be  sure  dat  mon  parent  live  on  de 
sky  wid  h  bon  Dieu,  for  all  thro'  my 
life  I  seem  to  feel  dat  he  look  down  at 
me,  an'  when  I  be  in  danger  he  ask  le 
bon  Dieu  for  make  me  brave  an'  strong 
■ — when  I  be  hungre,  he  show  me 
Where's  de  game — when  I  be  wet,  he 
send  de  sun  for  dry  me,'  an',  I  be  sure 
when  1  die  he's  be  one  dose  angele  for 

:y  Google 

take  me  on  de  sky.  I  be  ole  man  now, 
but  I  be  ready  when  le  bon  Dieu  please 
for  call  me,  an'  I  be  glad  for  make  dat 
las'  portage  to  join  dose  brave  w^ageurs 
an'  sing  wid  dem  dose  ole,  ole  song". 
But  le  bon  Dieu  choose  his  own  time 
for  call  me,  an'  to-night  it  seems  to  me 
his  time  is  mos'  arrive.  When  I'se  be 
fish  on  de  reever  to-night  I  look  at  de 
sun  as  he  go  to  hees  bed,  an'  Bnd  him 
so  red  dat  de  cloud  an'  de  wood  an'  de 
reever  all  be  red  jus'  like  blood.  Dat's 
make  me  link  of  de  time,  so  long  'go, 
when  dis  bank  and  dis  reever  be  paint 
wid  the  blood  of  de  many  dead,  an'  den 
I  s'pose  I  fall  'sleep,  for  I  dream  I'se 
hear  de  voice  of  many  peopl'  as  dey 
sing,  an'  when  I  come  near  I  see  plenty 
fine  wigwam  wid  lots  of  game  an'  fish 
hung  roun'.  In  front  dere  be  many 
voyagedrs  wid  strange  dress  an' hat,  all 
sit  roun'  nice  fire.  Dey  look  so  fat  an' 
happy  wid  lots  peltrie  an'  very  few  gun 
an'  trap,  dat  I  sees  it  mus'  be  very 
fine  place  for  hunt.  1  look  on  deir  face, 
but  don't  know  dem,  an'  everyting, 
even  de  tree  an'  de  bush,  seem  so 
strange  I  don't  know  what  for  tink. 
Jus'  when  de  sun  Is  set,  one  tall,  strong 
man  stan'  up  an'  begin  for  sing,  'Bent 
a  Dieu'  an'  as  he  sing  dey  all  seem  for 
rise  an'  float  'way  in  de  air  till  dey  pass 
in  de  cloud,  an'  1  sec  dem  no  more. 
Dea  I  wake  up  an'  hear  you  sing  de 
las'  of  your  song,    '  Glorie  a  ceux  qui 


n  now,  vien  sauver  le  moitde,'  an'  I  feel  sure 
dat  I  soon  will  join  dose  singer  by  de 
camp  fire,  where  de  peltries  is  plenty, 
de  portage  be  short,  an'  de  sun  is  always 

The  old  man  put  up  his  cherished 
pipe,  rolled  himself  in  his  blanket  be- 
fore the  fire,  and  dropped  off  to  sleep. 
The  boys  were  very  tired,  and,  after 
some  whispered  comments,  passed  into 
the  tent  to  their  couches  of  fir  boughs. 

At  sunrise  next  morning  Tom  was 
astir,  as  he  wished  to  get  an  early 
start.  The  old  hunter  was  lying  in 
exactly  the  same  position  as  on  the 
previous  evening.  After  being  about 
for  some  time  he  became  suspicious  that 
all  was  not  right  with  their  friend,  and 
removed  the  blanket  from  his  face. 
One  look  and  touch  was  enough  to 
convince  him  that  the  old  hunter  had 
passed  to  join  his  much  beloved  ances- 
tor in  the  happy  hunting  grounds.  Al- 
though their  acquaintance  had  been 
short  it  was  in  many  ways  a  sad  awaken* 
ingto  ouryoungwyw^ewM.  The  modest 
old  man,  with  his  simple  faith  and  great 
love  for  nature  and  nature's  noblemen, 
had  made  a  lasting  impression  on  them 

Which  directs,  like  favouring  currents, 
Life's  bark  on  its  lonj;  voyage, 

BringN  it  safely  by  rocks  and  rapids, 
To  its  last  a\ysl.eT'\oas  portage. 

George  Fisk. 


PALE  the  first  stars,  and  paler  the  last  light  ; 
And  dimmer  grow  the  glories  of  the  field  ; 
And  when  the  day  is  fading  on  my  sight, 
I    hear  the  pure-toned,    peaceful  church-bells  pealed. 
The  world  grows  still,  and  evening's  orison 
Swells  from  the  boscage  and  a  thousand  throats. 
Upon  the  glittering  peaks  the  sun's  last  beams 

Signal  that  day  is  done. 
And  in  the  hallowed  west,  a  bright  cloud  floats 
Touched  with  the  glory  of  immortal  dreams. 

John   Stuart   Thomson. 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 


Digitized  byGoOgIC 


THE  nig-ht  his  small  flock  of  sheep 
came  home  panting,  with  a  hunt* 
ed  look,  and  one  more  of  their  number 
mbsing,  was  the  oight  Paul  Polrier 
niade  the  resolve  which  this  story  is  to 

It  was  in  the  French  part  of  Cana- 
da, and  early  spring.  Paul's  family 
of  children  was  large  and  his  farm 
poor.  If  ends  were  to  meet,  nothing 
must  be  lost.  The  winter  had  been 
hard,  and  the  supply  of  hay  for  the 
stock  bad  run  low.  The  French  Can- 
adian's Rock  of  sheep  were  the  first 
to  take  a  brave  view  of  the  situa- 
tion. Day  by  day  as  the  sun  stripped 
the  great  blue-berry  heath  of  snow, 
they  bad  ranged  farther  and  farther 
back  towards  the  heavy  woods,  some 
five  miles  away.  Neither  Paul  nor 
his  wife  hindered  them,  for  every  bite 
the  sheep  got  on  the  heath  meant  one 
more  for  the  cows  in  the  barn. 

But  the  flock  had  suffered  severely. 
Nine  had  dwindled  to  five.  Both  Paul 
and  his  wife  put  their  loss  down  to 
"  the  bear."  Paul  had  borne  each  suc- 
ceeding diminution  in  his  small  flock 
with  strength  and  evenness  ;  he  ac- 
cepted it  as  bard  fate,  and  went  about 
his  work.  But  this  last  loss  was  too 
much.  It  was  the  best  sheep  of  his 
flock.  Bruin  was  going  too  far ;  so 
Paul  braced  himself  and  vowed  ven- 

"  I'll  have  that  bear  if  it  takes  a 
month,"  he  .said  next  morning,  as  he 
bade  his  wife  good-bye  and  set  out 
across  the  heath.  He  carried  a  small 
axe,  hit  gun  and  some  food.  Paul 
was  not  superstitious  nor  timid — he 
never  had  been  and  he  was  resolved 
not  to  be  now  ;  still,  as  he  climbed  the 
rear  fence  of  the  small  farmi  he  was 
not  sure  that  he  was  as  free  from  mis- 
givings as  if  he  had  been  going  to  his 
ordinary  work.  From  the  door  his 
wife  followed  bim  with  her  eye  till  he 
grev  small  on  the  wide,  brown  heath; 
then  turned  to  pacify  a  squalling  baby. 

"  I'd  rather  someone  was  with  him," 
she  muttered  to  herself,  lifting  the 
child  to  her  breast. 

The  morning  was  one  ot  those  rare 
ones  that  pay  up  for  a  whole  winter, 
no  matter  how  severe  it  may  have  been. 
The  sun  was  still  low,  but  it  shot  warm 
and  sharp  over  everything.  The  win- 
ter was  clean  gone.  Quick  new  life 
was  pulsing  into  everything.  The 
small  streams  and  brooks  had  slid 
snake-like  from  their  old  covers,  and 
were  worming  their  way  between  the 
brown  knolls  to  the  river.  It  was 
good  to  be  alive  that  morning,  and  to 
be  there  on  the  heath. 

Paul's  strong  blood  beat  warmly 
through  his  veins.  The  morning  had 
braced  the  misgivings  out  of  him,  not 
one  was  left.  He  was  already  per- 
suaded of  victory.  What  he  would 
gain — furs  were  high,  he  had  heard — 
stirred  him  more  now  than  the  thought 
of  what  he  lost  had  done  the  previous 
night.  Then,  in  addition  to  this,  he 
would  have  revenge  on  his  old  enemy. 

In  less  than  an  hour  Paul  was  on  the 
doomed  bear's  track.  It  led  straight 
towards  the  heavy  woods.  Here,  just 
as  he  entered,  Paul  discovered  just 
what  he  expected,  the  mangled  remains 
of  his  latest  loss.  There  were  bunches 
of  wool  here  and  there,  a  number  of 
well-licked  bones,  and  some  small  re- 
mains of  flesh.  Paul  gathered  the 
pieces  of  flesh  quickly  and  went  on. 
This  was  just  what  he  had  wanted. 
He  now  had  bwt  for  his  "dead-fall." 
He  was  a  step  nearer  victory  and  re- 
venge. The  activity  of  his  mind,  stir- 
red anew  by  what  he  had  seen  at  the 
edge  of  the  forest,  reacted  on  bis  body, 
and  he  found  himself  racing  viciously 
along  at  fully  double  his  former  pace. 

But  the  average  bear  is  well  up  in 
ethics.  He  knows  right  from  wrong', 
and  when  he  commits  a  wrong  he  al- 
ways knows  that  the  safest  point  for  him 


,  Google 



is  the  one  farthest  away  from  the  place 
where  the  wrong  may  have  been  done. 
So  it  may  not  after  ail  be  incredible 
that  we  should  find  Paul  at  two  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon  still  on  the  bear's  trail, 
but  still  without  the  bear. 

But  Paul  was  not  in  the  least  dis- 
couraged. He  munched  some  more  of 
the  food  he  had  brought  as  he  rested 
for  a  moment  or  two;  then  he  hit  upon 
a  capital  site  for  his  dead-fall  and  went 
to  work. 

What  the  dead-fall  is  may  be  partly 
understood  from  its  name.  When  com- 
pleted it  resembles  a  miniature  log- 
camp.  Three  sides  are  securely  log- 
ged up,  and  on  the  other  is  the  en- 
trance. Inside  there  are  three  strong 
stakes  skilfully  notched  and  placed  as 
an  upright  right-angle  triangle.  The 
"trip-stick"  which  forms  the  hypothen- 
use  of  the  triangle  is  fitted  to  the  stick 
on  which  the  bait  is  placed.  The  bait 
may  be  reached  by  the  bear  going  half 
way  into  the  trap,  so  that  as  soon  as 
the  trip-stick  slips  from  the  notch  the 
huge  logs,  that  have  been  suspended, 
fall  across  the  entrance,  and  the  prize 
is  secure. 

In  three  hours  from  the  time  he  be- 
gan Paul  was  placing  the  bait  he  had 
brought  upon  the  place  intended  for  it. 
He  was  sure  his  trap  was  well  built 
and  strong,  and  that  it  would  "spring" 
easily.  The  bear,  he  knew,  was  in  the 
woods  beyond,  and  in  all  probability 
would  return  again  when  hungry  for 
the  remains  of  the  sheep  he  had  left,  or 
for  another  one.  Paul  sat  down  for  a 
few  minutes  on  a  great  fallen  log  op- 
posite his  rude  trap,  and  then,  for  the 
first  time  since  last  night,  lit  his  short, 
strong  clay  pipe.  He  felt  fully  satis- 
fied as  he  looked  through  the  smoke 
at  his  finished  work.  He  was  not 
given  much  to  imaginings,  but  reason 
how  he  would  he  could  not  help  seeing 
the  old  enemy  of  his  harmless  flock 
half  in  the  narrow  doorway  before  him, 
crushed  nigh  to  death  with  those  great 
suspended  logs.  Some  time  next  day 
he  would  be  blowing  out  the  beggar's 

He  gathered  up  his  few  tools  and 

started  away.  But  he  had  gone  only 
a  few  yards  when  it  occurred  to  him  to 
return.  He  remembered  once  how  a 
bear  had  come,  pulled  the  bait  from 
the  stick,  and  left  the  trap  unsprung. 
Perhaps  the  bait  had  better  be  looked 
to.  He  flung  his  right  leg  over  the 
one  log  that  formed  the  sill  of  the  en- 
trance to  the  dead-fall,  and  began  to 
secure  the  bait.  He  had  almost  flnish- 
ed — was,  indeed,  drawing  himself  out 
— when,  oh,  horror  1  the  giant  trap 

For  an  instant  Paul  was  stunned,  but 
it  was  for  a  second  only.  Like  a  flash, 
and  with  a  rush,  there  came  to  the 
habitant  a  sense  of  the  awfulness  of 
his  situation.  Close  on  this  followed 
the  sharp,  stinging  pain  from  the  bones 
of  his  right  arm  and  leg.  His  body 
had  been  outside  the  trap,  and  he  had 
thus  escaped  instant  and  awful  death. 
But  he  was  pinned  as  in  the  jaws  of  a 
vice  of  steel.  The  log  that  supported 
half-a-dozen  others  crossed  his  leg  be- 
tween the  ankle  and  the  knee,  and  his 
arm  between  the  elbow  and  shoulder. 

For  some  moments  Paul  made  no 
attempt  to  free  himself.  He  had  been 
caught  face  downward,  and  to  attempt 
to  move,  he  knew,  was  useless.  But 
his  thoughts  were  not  bound.  They 
flashed  back,  then  forward.  Back  to 
the  small  home  away  over  the  woods 
and  the  heath  ;  then  forward  to  the 
awful  future.  Had  he  battled  through 
life  this  far,  to  end  all  thus?  Was 
this  his  desert?  He  was  miles  in  the 
woods.  The  trap  was  massively  strong. 
Hate,  revenge  and  hope  of  gain  had 
mixed  to  make  it  so ;  and  now  of 
a  sudden  everything  had  recoiled. 
With  this  thought  came  another,  the 
most  horrible  yet.  What  if  the  bear 
should  come  now  !  The  trap  was  ia 
its  track.  A  few  minutes  ago,  he  was 
hoping — he  was  sure — it  would  return 
by  this  way.  He  knew  it  had  done  so 
before.  But  now — oh,  if  it  should  come 
now  !  Paul  felt  his  arm  and  leg  begin 
to  numb  and  his  face  to  burn.  He  put 
his  free  hand  to  the  ground,  and  push- 
ed himself  up  as  far  as  he  could.     It 

:y  Google 



was  not  far,  but  the  little  liberty  he 
had  encouraged  him.  He  felt  his  heart, 
which  had  stood  still  for  a  moment  or 
two,  thump  strong'ly  under  his  coat. 
Then  the  blood  came  warmly  into  his 
veins.  With  it  came  his  resolution  not 
to  despair.  It  was  cowardly  to  give 
up :  he  would  not  —  not  without  a 
struggle,  anyway.  He  put  the  gloomy 
thought  away.  He  would  free  him* 

The  axe  with  which  he  had  worked 
was,  alas  1  beyond  his  reach.  He  had 
put  it  down  a  few  feet  away  as  he  had 
come  back  to  the  trap.  He  could  have 
used  it  some  with  his  free  hand.  His 
gun  was  nearer.  With  his  left  teg  he 
drew  it  carefully  towards  him.  It  might 
be  of  great  service,  he  thought.  He 
felt  for  his  strong  pocket  knife,  and 
found  it  With  the  thought  of  the 
knife  had  come  another  thin  ray  of  hope. 
It  would  be  of  service  in  case  the  gun 
should  fail  His  most  awful  fear  was 
that  of  the  return  of  the  bear.  And 
then,  too,  perhaps,  but  only  perhaps, 
he  might  be  able  to  cut  away  the  one 
\q^  that  would  give  him  freedom. 

He  braced  and  nerved  himself  for 
one  great  test  of  strength  befor^  he 
should  begin.  With  his  free  arm  and 
1^  firmly  on  the  ground,  and  his  body 
pressed  close  to  the  log  above,  he  push- 
ed and  strained  till  his  muscles  stood 
out  hard,  and  the  blood  seemed  ready 
to  burst  from  his  face.  But  nothing 
gaveormoved.  The  pains  came  sharply 
again  as  he  relaxed  his  efforts.  He 
sank  with  a  groan  and  remained  for  a 
moment  with  his  hot  face  on  the  cold 

It  was  with  great  difficulty  he  opened 
the  knife  and  began.  It  was  a  monster 
task — a  three-inch  blade  and  a  ten-inch 
1(^ — but  hope  and  fear  make  men  at* 
tempt  wondrous  things.  His  position, 
too,  was  such  that  the  knife  could  be 
used  only  to  the  poorest  advantage. 
Slowly,  however,  and  bravely  with  the 
pain  of  the  crushed  bones  shooting 
through  him,  he  began  his  slow  deliv- 
erance— or  rather  what  he  hoped  would 
end  in  that. 

Now  and  then  he  stopped  and  glanc- 
ed off  among  the  trees.     The  slanting 

beams  of  sunlight  through  them  had 
become  almost  horizontal.  It  was 
coming  on  night.  Was  there  anyone 
watching  the  sun  draw  down  to  the 
woods  over  the  heath — he  knew  how  it 
set  from  home — and  expecting  him  ? 
Would  he  be  free  before  it  again  lit  all 
the  tops  around,  or  would  he — but  he 
refused  to  think  more.  He  turned 
again  to  his  work. 

But  the  difficulty  of  reaching  the  log 
where  it  must  be  cut  tired  his  arm  and 
made  steady  work  impossible.  Once  ai, 
he  rested  he  took  some  of  the  food  from 
the  pouch  he  had  luckily  not  taken 
from  his  back  and  ate  it.  He  was  sur- 
prised to  see  how  little  there  was.  He 
had  eaten  more  before  than  he  had 

What  he  left  had  been  carefully  put 
aside,  when  a  slight  noise  among  the 
leaves  startled  him.  A  small,  red, 
bushy  squirrel  was  taking  jerky  leaps 
towards  him  ;  but  as  Paul  moved  his 
head  it  turned  and  suddenly  raced  al- 
most to  the  top  of  a  giant  fir,  pouring 
out  as  it  went  a  torrent  of  indignation  at 
the  invasion  of  its  exclusive  territory. 
A  moment  later  a  woodpecker  drummed 
vigorously  on  a  hollow  beech,  then 
swooped  down  and  off  with  a  cry.  A 
stray  crow  or  two  circled  and  cawed 
excitedly  up  above. 

By  and  by  sounds  like  these  became 
less  and  less  frequent.  A  cool  sir 
drew  down  through  the  forest  heavy 
with  chilling  damp.  Then  the  night 
began  to  settle  quietly. 

Paul  turned  again  to  his  task ;  as  he 
did  so  the  hopelessness  of  It  came  to 
him  as  never  before.  He  had  done 
little  or  nothing,  but  of  a  sudden  he 
hit  upon  something  else.  Indeed, 
several  suggestions  came  to  him  at 
once.  He  had  matches  ;  could  he  not 
burn  a  part  of  the  trap?  He  had  a 
little  powder  and  a  few  bullets  ;  could 
he  not  shoot  or  blow  one  of  the  logs 
away?  He  brightened  at  the  thought; 
then  of  his  many  plans  he  attempted 
to  fix  upon  the  best. 

First  he  thought  of  setting  fire,  but 
this  to   be  effective  would  have  to  be 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 



done  under  the  log  that  held  him,  and 
between  his  teg  and  arm.  He  gathered 
what  brush  and  chips  he  could  reach 
and  placed  them  in  position.  Then  he 
hesitated.  What  if  the  brush  in  parts 
beyond  his  reach  caught,  and  from 
that  some  of  the  dryer  wood?  The  log 
that  held  him  was  green  and  would 
burn  last.  The  trap  was  a  camp,  and 
small  though  it  was,  if  it  burned  at  all, 
would  burn  fiercely. 

Paul  held  the  match  in  readiness  for 
a  time,  but  he  did  not  strike  it  To 
die  by  fire  I  What  could  be  worse  than 
that?     He  must  try  something  else. 

He  imagined  that  by  squeezing  his 
leather  powder  bag  between  the  logs 
that  held  him,  and  then  igniting  it,  the 
cruel  jaws  that  held  him  might  be 
wrenched  apart.  His  heart  bounded 
when  this  thought  first  came,  but  it 
sank  away,  and  the  blood  came  cold 
again  in  his  veins  when  he  reasoned  a 

He  now  turned  his  attention  to  his 
gun.  It  occurred  to  him  that  he  might 
be  able  to  deepen  the  notch  he  had  al- 
ready made  in  the  log  with  his  knife. 
He  knew  from  the  distance  his  gun 
carried  that  it  would  send  a  bullet 
through,  or  well  into,  the  log  above 
him.  He  attempted  to  bring  the  gun's 
muzzle  to  the  place  where  the  bullet 
would  be  most  effective.  It  was  not 
till  then  that  he  realized  that  to  hold 
and  fire  the  gun  would  be  almost  im- 
possible, held  as  he  was,  in  the  trap. 
But  after  a  time  he  found  that  this 
could  be  done. 

The  gun  was  a  long-barrelled  old- 
ifashioned  rifle.  He  had  only  one  free 
hand,  and  with  that  he  must  hold  the 
muzzle  a  little  distance  from  and  below 
the  bottom  of  the  notch. 

How,  though,  was  the  trigger  to  be 
reached  in  order  that  the  gun  might  be 
discharged  ? 

The  solution  of  this  difficulty  came 
by  accident  In  one  of  his  movements 
he  noticed  he  could  reach  to  the  lock  of 
the  gun  with  his  foot.  It  came  to  him 
of  a  sudden,  he  could  strip  his  foot  and 
discharge  the  gun  with  his  toe.  He 
worked  his  boot  off  with  difficulty,  then 

brought  the  muzzle  almost  to  the  log. 
He  placed  his  toe  on  the  trigger  and 
prepared  to  push  it.  But  he  again 
hesitated.  He  could  fire  the  gun,  but 
could  he  re-foad  it? 

He  had  looked  upon  the  gun  as  his 
chief  defence  in  case  the  bear  should 
return.  This  thought — the  worst  of 
all — though  he  put  it  away,  was  ever 
before  him.  He  must  not  run  the 
awful  risk  of  being  unprepared  for 
that.  He  pushed  the  gun  from  him 
with  a  groan.  Then  his  head  sank 
to  the  cold  moist  ground.  None  of  his 
plans — and  he  felt  that  any  of  them 
might  free  him — dare  be  worked.  This 
was  what  undid  him.  It  was  the  cruel 
irony  of  it  all  that  came  home  to  him 
now,  as  never  t^efore. 

He  lay  for  sometime  breathing  hard 
against  the  ground.  Before,  he  had 
put  the  awfulness  of  his  situation  away 
from  him,  but  that  was  no  longer  pos- 
sible. It  was  now  dark.  He  had  only 
a  little  food.  The  slightest  movement 
on  his  part  and  there  shot  through  him 
the  most  stinging  pains.  The  chill 
wa^  giving  way  to  cold,  for  it  was  still 
early  May.  In  addition  to  all  these, 
there  were  the  things  behind  and  be- 
fore— the  things  he  must  leave  and  the 
things  he  must  meet.  There  were  the 
little  home  and  the  children,  and  by 
this  time  the  expectant  anxious  wife ; 
that  behind,  then  before  him — oh,  hor- 
ror !  before  him,  what?  to  be  torn  by 
the  bear  that  might  now  come  any 
moment  ?  to  die  of  the  flaming  thirst 
within  him,  or,  after  long-drawn  out 
days  of  suft'ering,from  pain  and  hunger? 
This  was  the  future.  Hope,  that  had 
helped  before,  was  gone.  He  stared 
it  all  stolidly  in  the  face  ;  it  was  too 
horrible — far.  His  breath  came  short 
and  dry.  Pain  from  his  crushed  limbs 
swept  his  nerves  and  iced  his  blood. 
He  was  on  the  edge  of  madness. 

Quivering  in  a  tempest  of  paio, 
he  raised  his  head.  Then,  he  pushed 
his  weak  arm  into  the  dark.  His 
hand  found  the  rifle's  cold  muzzle. 
There  was  one  plan  still,  by  which  he 
might  be  free.     The  future,  no  matter 

:y  Google 



what  it  held,  must  be  preferable  to  the 
present  He  drew  the  gfun's  muzzle  to 
within  a  hand-breadth  of  his  brain. 
Then  he  fumbled  with  his  foot  for  the 
lock.  At  the  moment  he  found  it  a 
single  blue  star  blinked  through  the 
tops  and  caught  his  eye. 

It  was  the  next  morning.  The  sun, 
from  the  edge  of  the  east,  was  firing 
the  big  spruce  and  hemlock  tops  into 

flaming  gold.  A  woman  was  hurrying 
along  a  trail  underneath.  A  presenti- 
ment of  evil  had  hunted  her  from 
home.  The  morning  was  cold,  but 
the  woman's  face  was  flaming  warm. 
She  had  come,  in  a  moment,  into  view 
of  something  that  wrenched  from  her  a 
scream  of  horror.  She  sprang  forward 
as  one  wild.  Her  strength  became  as 
the  strength  of  ten.  In  a  moment 
more  she  was  kneeling  low  over  her 
unconscious,  but  still  living,  husband. 

Frank  Bain/.     . 


"  Our  lar^st  bope  is  unrullilled. 
The  proDuse  still  oulruas  the  deed, 
Tbe  tower  but  not  the  spire  we  build." 
— Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 

'"I'^HE  beautiful  church  of  grey  stone 
-'-  was  fast  approaching  completion. 
For  long  and  weary  months  the  ma- 
sons and  carpenters  had  been  at  work 
on  the  grand  building  being  erected  by 
the  good  sisters  of  Notre  Dame  de 

"The  builders'  perfect  and  centennial  flower... 
But  wanting  still  the  glory  of  the  spire." 

That  was  alt  it  needed,  the  one  last 
touch  without  which  it  lacked  every- 
thing. Its  outline  could  be  distin- 
guished under  the  rough  scaffolding  on 
which  Pierre  Duval  was  standing.    . 

In  a  day  or  two  at  most,  he  thought, 
the  work  of  his  hands  would  tower 
heavenwards;  then  the  great  gilt  cross 
would  be  raised  to  the  lofty  spire  and 
the  church  of  St.  Ignatius  would  be 
the  perfect  monument  of  Christian  zeal 
and  love  it  was  intended  to  be. 

The  Angelus  rang  from  the  neigh- 
bouring convent.  It  had  got  too  dark 
to  work  some  time  since,  but  as  a 
painter  is  loth  to  leave  his  masterpiece 
for  the  night,  and  stands  longing  for 
an  hour  more  of  daylight,  so  Duval 
waited  till  the  last  possible  moment 
before  descending. 

As  he  reached  the  ground  he  almost 
stumbled  over  a  huge  heap  of  stone,  on 

which  had  resounded  all  day  the  echo- 
ing  blow  of  a  hammer  wielded  by  a 
strong  arm.  The  young  workman, 
Moise  Lafortune,  who  had  toiled  all 
day  in  the  cold  November  wind,  had 
gone  home  a  little  while  before,  a 
cherry  whistle  on  his  lips  and  gladness 

Duval  smothered  an  oath  as  he  re- 
covered his  balance.  Up  there  in  the 
blue  of  the  sky  he  had  forgotten  La- 
fortune,  forgotten  Leonie,  forgotten 
himself.  Absorbed  in  his  work,  the 
tap,  tap  of  the  hammer  far  below  had 
been  merged  in  the  sounds  he  himself 
was  making,  hut  now  an  evil  spirit 
rose  in  his  heart.  Only  to  think  that 
Lafortune,  a  miserable  stone-breaker, 
glad  of  the  money  he  earned  by  the 
sweat  of  his  brow,  with  no  hope  for 
any  other  than  daily  bread,  to  think 
that  he  should  be  Leonie's  choice  filled 
the  unhappy  Pierre  with  revengeful 

He  stared  moodily  at  the  heap  of 
broken  stone  till  the  gathering  dark- 
ness enveloped  him,  and  he  went  home. 

The  night  wore  on,  the  moon  sailed 
serenely  in  the  heavens,  looking  down 
placidly  on  hidden  spire  and  heap  of 
broken  stone  alike. 

Duval  was  at  his  work  earlier  than 
the  stone-breaker.  It  called  to  him, 
and  he  was  filled   with   a  consuming 

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unrest.  Sweet  Mother  SL  A^es 
glanced  out  soon  after  dawn  and  saw 
a  fi^re,  dark  against  the  wooden  scaf- 

"  The  beautiful  church,  the  beauti- 
ful church,"  she  whispered  to  herself 
ecstatically.  She  could  see  in  her 
mind's  eye  the  glorious  tapering  spire. 
How  the  rising  sun  would  dart  its  shaft 
of  fire  upon  the  plates  of  copper  gird- 
ing it  round  !  How  would  the  sunset 
emblazon  with  living  flame,  and  dazzle 
with  its  glittering  glory,  the  crown  and 
summit  of  all  I  And  inside  the  flute- 
like voice  of  Mother  St.  Ignatius  Loy- 
ola would  soar  on  wings  of  song  to  the 
very  gates  of  heaven. 

Mother  St  Agnes  gave  a  little  sigh. 
She  had  no  voice  to  give  to  the  church, 
but  her  williog  hands  embroidered  the 
exquisite  altar  cloths  and  vestments 
for  the  priests,  and  she  was  satisfied 
after  all.  Her  work  was  as  the  work 
of  Lafortune.  And  he,  too,  was  satis- 
fied, though  from  a  different  cause. 

He  saw  the  workmen  on  the  spire, 
and  thought  with  a  thrill  of  joy  min- 
gled with  pity,  that  Duval  had  lost, 
and  he,  poor  Lafortune,  had  won.  He 
thought  of  the  great  church  witnessing 
and  blessing  the  first  marriage  held 
within  its  sacred  walls,  where  Leonie 
was  the  fairest  of  all  that  should  fol- 
low in  her  train,  demure  in  simple 
white,  as  she  had  looked  at  her  first 
communion,  only  far,  far  prettier. 

Set  to  the  tune  of  happy  thoughts 
work  goes  lightly  and  swiftly,  and  the 
cur^  had  promised  that  Lafortune 
should  be  the  verger  of  St  Ignatius — 
and  then  Leonie  would  be  his. 

He  happened  to  glance  up  suddenly 
to  the  roof  of  the  church  and  saw  Du- 
val making  preparations  for  lighting 
the  tioy  stove  which  was  set  on  the 
platform  of  the  scaffold,  on  which  to 
cook  a  warm  dinner.  It  must  be  near- 
ly twelve  then.  How  the  morning  had 
flown ! 

Lafortune  sat  down  on  the  bag  he 
used  for  kneeling  on  while  at  work, 
and  drew  out  a  hunch  of  bread  which 
he  attacked  as  only  a  hungry  man  can. 

It  was  enough  for  him ;  Duval  prob- 
ably found  it  cold  up  there,  and  he  had 
»n  ban  estomac  anyway,  Pierre  Duval 

His  hammer  thrown  aside,  his  eyes 
on  the  little  hamlet  of  Notre  Dame, 
Lafortune  enjoyed  his  noonday  meal 
and  rest.  His  back  was  turned  to  the 
church;  he  seldom  glanced  at  the  work- 
er far  above  him,  but  on  a  sudden  there 
was  a  fearful  cry.  It  seemed  to  start 
in  the  sky  and  resound  on  all  sides  ; 
the  air  was  filled  with  the  horror  of  it. 
It  struck  the  walls  of  the  convent  and 
Mother  St.  Agnes,  looking  out  from 
the  quiet  refectory,  saw  a  streak  of 
flame  shoot  out  a  narrow  tongue  far 
up  on  the  framework  round  the  spire  ; 
saw  a  frantic  man  striving  to  stamp 
out  the  embers  from  his  overturned 
stove,  and  saw  no  more,  for  with  the 
cry  of  "  L'Egtisef  au  secours! "  she 
slid  to  the  ground  in  a  dead  faint. 

Moise  echoed  that  first  piercing  cry; 
but  he  too  could  only  stand  aud  watch, 
held  by  a  fearful  fascination,  while  the 
tongue  of  fire  became  a  cloud  of  flame 
and  smoke.  He  did  not  know  it,  but 
he  was  shouting  with  all  his  might, 
"  Duval,  descendet,  dexendem !" 

The  latter  was  in  a  very  dangerous 
position,  but  in  his  frenzied  efforts  to 
stamp  out  the  fire  had  up  to  this  time 
been  oblivious  of  his  own  danger.  His 
one  thought  was  that  the  church  must 
not  be  burnt 

Agreat  crowd  of  people,  the  nuns  and 
whole  population  of  Notre  Dame,  were 
gathered  alt  round  the  edifice.  Lafor- 
tune rushed  up  to  Leonie,  whose  pink 
dress  caught  his  eye  in  his  distress — 

"Tell  Duval  to  come  down.  Quick, 
he  will  come  for  you  1"  and  obedient, 
she  darted  forward,  pushing  her  way 
through  the  jostling  throng. 

Up  to  this  time  the  hoarse  shouts  ot 
the  priests,  the  shrieks  of  the  sisters 
warning  Pierre  of  his  danger,  were  ap- 
parently unheard  by  him.  The  crowd 
had  been  on  the  spot  almost  on  the  in- 
stant of  the  catastrophe,  but  he  had 
paid  no  attention  to  their  shouts  in 
the  hope  of  stamping  out  the  flames. 

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But  now  one  voice  thrilled  through  and 
through  him,  a  girl's  voice,  full  of  ag- 
onized entreaty. 

"Pierre,  mon  Pierre,  descendeM,  de- 
scendcB  !  " — When  would  he  not  have 
have  listened  to  her  ?  Indeed,  he  saw 
he  had  not  an  instant  to  lose.  The  plat- 
form on  which  he  stood  would  be  a 
mass  of  flames  in  a  moment. 

The  hot  breath  of  the  fiery  furnace 
scorched  him  ;  his  hands  and  feet  were 
blistered  as  he  broke  through  the  ring 
of  fire  and  stepped  down  the  rounds  of 
the  ladders.  "  Pierre,  mon  Pierre  !" 
the  cry  still  rang  in  his  ears.  His  eyes 
were  blinded  and  bloodshot,  and  he 
could  not  see  the  triumph  of  the  migh- 
ty victor.  Exulting  in  its  power,  it  de- 
fied the  streams  of  water  brought  to 
play  upon  it  by  the  engines  from  the 
neighbouring  city.  The  flames  roared 
and  played  around  the  windows,  and 
great  volumes  of  smoke  belched  forth 
into  the  cool  November  air. 

Leonie  ran  to  Duval  as  he  staggered 
to  the  ground. 

"Look,  look,  the  spire  I"  she  said 
a  few  moments  later. 

With  a  groan  he  watched  it,  Au 
spire,  more  beautiful  than  when  it 
pointed  serenely  to  the  skies,  wreathed 
round  with  orange  flame,  a  grand 
though  lurid  spectacle — totter  and  sway 
and  fall  with  one  huge  crash — and  the 

singing  flames  shoot  higher  in  the  hea- 
vens in  its  place. 

He  covered  his  eyes  with  his  hand  as 
she  gently  drew  him  away. 

"  Never  mind  the  church,"  he  said, 
as  he  saw  her  look  at  the  once  magni- 
ficent building — "When  I  forgot  it 
and  came  down  foz  you,  surety  you  will 
forget  it  for  a  moment  and  think  of 
me.  Did  you  mean  it  when  you 
saved  my  life,  and  called  me  'Mon 
Pierre  ? ' " 

He  gripped  her  arm  fiercely.  Her 
timid  eyes  were  wide  with  terror  and 
distress  ;  she  was  afraid  of  this  rough 
wooer.  "  No,  no,"  she  cried,  "  I 
didn't  know  what  I  said.  I  love  Moise, 
only  Moise." 

He  pushed  her  from  him  violently, 
and  ran  with  all  his  speed  to  the  blaz- 
ing church.  He  was  about  to  rush  in- 
side when  strong  arms  seized  him. 

"  Let  me  go,  let  me  go,"  he  shout- 
ed, struggling.  "  Let  me  die  with  my 
spire  and  my  love." 

But  he  was  crazed,  of  course,  they 
all  knew,  and  they  knelt  on  him  and 
bound  him  till,  when  church  and  spire 
were  a  mass  of  ruins,  merciful  uncon- 
sciousness caused  the  gleaming  light 
that  danced  mockingly  in  his  eyes  to 
melt  within  a  sea  of  peace. 

Florence  Hamilton  Randal. 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 


By  Erie  Cromer, 


was  Falconer.  There  were  but 
three  of  the  name  in  Mums,  and  she 
thought  as  much  of  the  other  two  as 
of  herself.  Given  her  choice,  she  had 
rather  been  the  mother  of  two  sons 
than  of  one  son  and  one  daughter. 
Having  but  one  son  she  loved  him  with 
all  the  heart  God  had  given  her,  and 
Minerva  Falconer  was  a  woman  of 
strong  passions.  But  she  had  a  mas- 
culine grip  on  her  heartstrings,  which 
the  majority  mistook  for  stoicism. 
They  called  her.  a  diplomat,  and  re- 
garded her  not  without  fear.  She  was 
the  uncrowned  queen  of  Mums.  But 
she  loved  her  only  son  better  than  all 
the  rest  of  her  subjects  together.  Ever 
since  the  death  of  the  elder  Falconer, 
good  easy  man,  she  had  pondered 
nothing  so  deeply  as  Peart's  success 
in  life  ;  and  to  Minerva  Falconer  suc- 
cess meant  opportunity.  The  supreme 
opportunityat  present  was  Caleb  Tooze. 
Caleb  was  as  useful  to  Mums  as  the 
knot  on  an  oak  ;  and  in  Minerva's 
philosophy  about  as  tough.  The  little 
mummy  I  How  could  his  heart  beat 
so  J  on  and  on;  when  to  judge  from 
his  face  it  was  clear  out  of  the  world's 
great  tune  ? 

Patience,  Minerva. 
Vet  all  that  patience,  and  the  mis- 
taken love  from  which  it  came,  Peart 
Falconer  stood  ready  to  circumvent  by 
a  single  stroke  of  crime  the  night  he 
entered  Caleb  Tooze's  cabin.  Passion 
rather  than  premeditation  had  goaded 
him  on.  Passion — for  the  pure  moral 
personality  of  that  girl — also  held  him 
back.  The  struggle  drove  him  out  of 
the  hut.  From  that  moment  crime 
and  Pensee  Vale  fought  for  his  moral- 
ity.    This    way    he    gravitated ;  that 

way  he  aspired.      And  the  widow  Fal- 
coner discerned  it  not. 

Mums  soon  kaleidoscoped  into  its 
last  grand  pattern  before  snowfall. 
Strawstacks  grew  up  yellow  and 
straight  as  pyramids  over  the  black 
barn-peaks  and  settled  lopsided  to  the 
weather ;  corn  crawled  into  shocks 
along  the  bush-edge  ;  the  early  wheat- 
fields  coaxed  the  green  out  of  the  trees; 
the  woods  got  battlefields  in  their  tops 
and  began  to  smoke  ;  and  the  black- 
birds at  early  morning  swore  like  fish- 
wives at  the  white  frost  that  blacked 
the  pumpkin-vines. 

Falconers  were  the  last  to  thresh. 
By  a  curious  principle  of  mathematics 
that  had  never  once  been  subverted  in 
fifteen  years,  they  had  half  as  much 
wheat  and  twice  as  much  chess  and 
ragweed  seeds  off  two  farms  as  Mosses 
had  off  one.  Minerva  could  have 
fought  Rudge  Moss  and  all  his  family 
connections  for  that.  Peart  didn't 
care.  A  chattel  mortgage  on  the 
horses  and  cattle  would  pay  the  taxes. 
Perhaps  the  crop  would  make  up  the 
rent  to  Caleb  Tooze.  He  scrabbled  in 
a  patch  of  wheat ;  then  he  took  to 
driving  in  his  top-buggy  behind  his 
favourite  team  of  iron-grays  ;  nowhere 
in  particular  ;  just  out  of  Mums,  some- 
times atone,  sometimes  with  Rudge 
Moss  on  a  Sunday  ;  often  past  the 
school,  and  not  seldom  a  good  deal 
faster  than  seemed  compatible  wiih  the 
state  of  the  roads.  He  had  corn  to 
husk  and  hogs  that  would  have  been 
glad  of  the  job.  But  he  let  the  coons 
and  squirrels  fatten  on  it,  while  the 
hogs  squealed  gaunt  about  the  straw- 
stack.  It  didn't  matter  to  him  that 
Mosses  had  their  hogs  in  pen,  already 
too  fat  to  run.  It  did  to  Minerva.  She 
liked  contrasts  too  ;  but  not  that  kind. 


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Despairing  at  length  of  getting  the 
h(^s  up  before  Christmas,  Minerva  de- 
cided upon  a  husking-bee.  Peart  went 
so  far  as  to  ask  the  hands.  He  also 
picked  up  a  waggon-load  of  windfall 
apples  which  he  took  to  the  cider- 

The  day  came.  Most  of  the  neigh- 
bours went  (o  the  bee ;  the  Mosses, 
every  one  :  Reuben,  red-whiskered,  in 
a  bleached  smock  the  colour  of  a  po- 
tato-peel ;  Sylvia,  his  wife,  pale,  blue- 
printed and  peaked,  with  a  voice  tike  a 
sleigh  on  frozen  snow ;  Rudge,  big, 
red-faced  and  lumbering,  ready  to  husk 
with  Peart  Falconer  against  any  two  in 
the  crowd. 

Not  a  bare  twig  or  a  dead  leaf  rustled 
in  the  black  woods  along  the  slashing. 
Caleb  Tooze's  shanty-smoke  curled  a 
clear  blue  gimlet  towards  the  grey  cloud 
that  hung  as  quiet  as  the  sl^  over 
everything  visible.  But  long  before 
noon  all  the  breezes  in  Ontario  seemed 
to  blow  in  the  keg-burs,  pig-weeds  and 
Canada  thistles  in  that  front  field  of 
Caleb  Tooze's — "the  widow's  weeds  " 
somebody  technically  called  them. 
They  got  a  scuttling  that  day  ;  all  but 
an  hour  at  noon,  when  a  pack  of  crows 
on  the  grand  tour  dropped  in  there  and 
sneered  a  lot  of  things  about  the  green- 
horns at  dinner  up  at  the  big  house  who 
didn't  know  enough  to  set  the  fodder- 
shocks  over  the  corn -heaps.  Then 
when  bent  old  Caleb  hobbled  out  of  the 
shanty  yelling  "  Sh — ooh  !"  and  wav- 
ing his  stick  up  and  down,  they  laugh- 
ed sardonically  and  got  heavily  up  to  go 
south  again. 

Caleb  watched  the  field  after  that. 
There  was  no  dinner  that  day  in  the 
shanty.  Minerva  had  told  him  the  day 
before  to  follow  the  men  when  noon 
came.      He  didn't  want  to. 

Nobody  in  all  that  crowd  of  huskers 
that  afternoon  noticed  Caleb  Tooze's 
window-blinds  drop  except  Peart  Fal- 
coner. Even  he  could  only  surmise 
that  the  old  man  had  locked  the  door, 
though  for  what  purpose  he  couldn't 

It  didn't  matter.  Caleb  had  pried 
up  the  loose  puncheon  near  the  bed 
often   enough    before.     It    took    him 

longer  than  usual  to  get  it  back  that 
day.  Afterwards  he  lit  his  lamp  and 
performed  some  very  curious  but  quite 
bachelor-like  operations  on  the  waist 
of  his  trousers  with  a  needle  and  thread. 
When  he  had  finished,  he  blew  out  the 
light,  raised  the  blinds  and  unlocked 
the  door.  Standing  at  the  window  he 
could  see  a  red  figure  drift  along  the 
wild  grape-vines  at  the  road-fence,  past 
the  huskers.  He  watched  it  with  quiv- 
ering lip.  It  was  Pensee  Vale  on  her 
way  to  Falconers'  for  supper. 

The  yellow  ears  flew  like  grasshop- 
pers then.  Right  where  Rudge  and 
Peart  husked  at  the  same  shock  there 
was  one  in  the  air  all  the  time.  Rudge 
had  the  whole  bee  in  his  blood  that 
day.  Some  of  the  old  fellows  rustled 
along  like  summer  breezes,  talking  as 
much  as  they  husked,  about  the  top  on 
the  wheat,  the  fall  fair,  Caleb  Tooze 
and  Pensee  Vale.  Caleb  might  have 
been  a  mummy  and  Pensee  a  fairy  for 
all  Rudge  cared  just  then.  He  did  all 
his  talking  with  his  fingers  ;  couldn't 
hear  the  racket  the  others  made  for 
listening  to  his  own ;  didn't  see  a  bit 
more  of  Peart  all  the  afternoon  than 
the  swift  pair  of  hands  that  clicked  off 
the  ears  about  three  to  his  two,  and 
nine  times  out  of  ten  hooked  in  the 
last  bunch  of  stalks  from  the  middle, 
leaving  him  to  set  up  the  fodder  with  a 
clump  !  clump  !  clump  I  and  a  whooshi 
double-quick  into  the  shock,  elm-bark 
j'grg'ngr  at  fi's  belt.  Then  he  grabbed 
his  sickle  out  of  the  weeds  and  plung- 
ed to  the  next  corn-shock,  shook  it  by 
the  collar  once,  downed  it  and  cut  off 
its  feet.  Collie  was  always  on  the 
spot  as  much  absorbed  as  his  master. 
He  always  followed  Rudge  to  the  bees. 
Never  a  log  in  Rudge's  gang  at  a  log- 
ging that  got  "snaked"  into  a  heap 
but  he  bad  to  chew  the  rear  end  till  it 
stopped.  Never  a  shock  Rudge  tore 
down  at  a  husking,  but  he  had  to 
be  under  when  it  fell.  If  he  got  the 
mouse  he  bolted  it  alive.  If  he  didn't 
he  scratched  and  snuffed  a  hole  under 
the  nearest  stump  big  enough  to  hold 
all  but  his  stub  tail  till  the  next  shock 
came  down.  And  the  stub  tail  wiggled 
till  it  did. 

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It  was  getting  dusk  when  Caleb 
Tooze  began  to  carry  in  his  night- wood. 
Rudge  and  Peart  were  four  shocks 
from  the  slashing  then.  Peart  whoop- 
ed. Half-a-dozen  whooped  back  in  as 
many  different  keys,  and  half  a  score 
of  others  ran  to  set  up  the  down  fod- 
der-bundles.    It  was  time  to  quit. 

But  Rudge  wanted  to  husk  through. 
Peart  laughed  and  struck  off  along 
with  the  other  buskers.  Tbe  fat  fod- 
der-shocks had  white  tags  on  then  : 
tbe  corn  glimmered  faintly  in  gold 
splotches  among  the  weeds.  Out  at 
the  road  the  huskers  could  bear  Rudge 
rustling  away  among  the  stalks  over 
by  tbe  slashing.  Some  of  them  fol- 
lowed Peart  up  the  road  ;  the  rest  went 

Rudge  was  just  fiaisbing  tbe  last 
shock  when  Caleb  Tooze  came  out  of 
his  sbanty  and  hobbled  along  the  head- 
land.    Caleb  liked  to  talk  to  Rudge. 

"  Huh  I"  he  squeaked,  as  he  began 
to  throw  the  scattered  ears  up  on  the 
pile,  "nice  way  to  farm,  fatt'n  coons 
an'  squir'ls,  an'  lett'n  hogs  turn  to  saw- 
horses.  Nervy's  had  this  place  fifteen 
year  an'  nev'  had  a  crop  yit  good  nuf 
fer  a  wild  Injun.  Toted  all  the  straw 
off  an'  nev'  fetched  a  load  o'  manoor 
back  on,  that's  what  she's  did.  She's 
a  wise  gat,  Nervy  is,  but  there  baint 
one  o'  tbe  family  knows  how  to  farm. 
Had  corn  een  this  side  ten  year  hand- 
runnin',  an'  nev'  had  nuthin'  but  keg- 
burs  yit.  Dang  poor  crop  it  is,  and  a 
dang  poor  lot  o'  busters  some  o'  them 
fellers  is,  too,  or  they'd  a'  got  done, 
'pears  to  me  anyway." 

"  Days  haint  so  long  as  they  wus  in 
hayin'  or  we  would  a',"  responded 
Rudge,  as  he  pulled  the  last  bunch  of 
stocks  up  on  his  lap. 

"  Be  a  long  hust  an'  a  short  hop 
then,"  drily  observed  Caleb.       Say — " 

The  old  man  screwed  the  point  of  his 
stick  into  Rudge 's  bootleg.  Leaning 
over  so,  be  looked  like  a  fossilized  bird 
just  come  to  life.  Rudge  stopped 
husking.  Caleb's  voice  sank  into  a 
hoarse  whisper  as  though  he  half  feared 
somebody  besides  Rudge  might  hear 
him.  But  there  wasn't  even  a  katydid 
in  the  busb  now. 

"  An'  there'll  be  things  said  'fore  the 
dance  is  done  it'll  take  more'n  a  hust- 
io'  bee  to  rub  out     Hee !  Hee  !" 

Deliriously  plucking  at  his  trousers- 
belt  the  old  man  hobbled  away  and 
entered  the  but. 

v.— THE  DANCE. 

The  dance  that  night  was  bigger 
than  the  bee.  Falconer's  stables  were 
full  So  was  the  yard.  So  was  tbe 
big  house. 

It  was  Pensee  Vale's  first  dance  at 
Mums  ;  almost  her  first  visit  to  Fal- 
coner's or  anywhere  in  Mums,  except 
the  shanty  of  Caleb  Tooze.  She  might 
not  have  gone  to  that  but  for  the 
widow's  sweeping  visit  to  the  school  in 
company  with  Molly  the  day  before. 
Pensee  didn't  hate  society.  Oblivious 
of  its  claims  upon  her  she  simply 
shrank  from  it,  never  dreaming  that 
to  be  a  recluse  at  Mums  was  equivalent 
to  high  treason  ;  or  that  of  all  the 
rollicking  crowd  that  pounded  the  big 
square  bouse  into  festivity  that  autumn 
night  after  the  husking-bee  she  was  the 
focus.  Near  her  prim  white  collar  she 
wore  a  pale  yellow  flower,  the  only 
wild  thing  that  suited  her  along  the 
road  from  school,  ft  tried  to  wilt  into 
her  dress  before  the  first  dance  was 
done.  The  cause  may  have  been  the 
severely  benign  aspect  of  the  widow 
who  certainly  regarded  Pensee  with 
more  than  half  an  eye  ;  or  the  simper- 
ing scrutiny  of  Molly  who,  with  a  flang- 
ing green  bow  under  one  side  of  her 
pudding  cbin,  was  in  a  nervous  chill  of 
imitation  ;  or  the  burly  looks  of  Rudge 
Moss  who  couldn't  keep  Molly  long; 
enough  away  from  his  homespun,  cellu- 
loid and  red  face  to  ask  Pensee  for  a 
dance.  Rudge  had  lived  ten  months 
under  the  same  roof  with  Pensee  with- 
out so  much  as  a  walk  or  a  buggy-ride 
with  her  alone.  He  dimly  realized 
now  that  he  might  be  just  as  well  ac- 
quainted with  her  ten  years  hence  unless 
he  should  make  bold  to  dance  with  her 
that  night.  It  was  getting  to  be  the 
joke  of  the  section. 

Peart  Falconer  also  watched  Peasee 
Vale.  For  the  first  time  since  tbe 
night  he  had  tried  to  rob  Caleb  Tooze 

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and  couldn't  because  of  the  thought  of 
her,  she  was  under  his  mother's  roof. 
It  seemed  to  him  she  brushed  the 
people  with  wiogs.  He  scoroed  them 
all  ia  t:ompart500,  aad  himself  most  of 

The  second  waltz  in  the  long  parlour 
was  done  and  the  Rddle  just  howling 
through  its  preliminaries  for  the  Devil's 
Dream  when  Peasee  and  Peart  passed 
out  through  the  crowded  kitchen.  The 
cider-barrel  stood  on  a  big^  maple 
block  near  the  pump,  right  in  the  glare 
of  the  window. 

Peart  rinsed  Uie  tin  dipper  at  the 
pump  and  tapped  Pensee  a  drink. 

"  It's  everybody's  mug,"  he  said 
tersely ;  "  I'd  get  you  a  glass,  but 
you'd  call  me  a  fool  for  my  ptUDS." 

Peasee  laughed  low  as  she  took  it 

"  True  courtesy  makes  nobody  a 
fool,"  she  said  gently. 

"  I'll  get  you  the  glass,"  he  said 
quickly.      "Pardon  me." 

"Not  so,"  she  replied  smiling.  "You 
have  proved  your  courtesy.  I  must 
Dot  spoil  mine.  I  am  not  too  good  to 
drink  after  others.  Indeed,  we  are  all 
one  I  think,  if  we  love  one  another. 
Shall  we  drink  to  that,  each  a  half  P  " 
She  offered  him  the  dipper. 

Peart  turned  aside.  "I  quite  for* 
got,"  he  said  crisply,  "you  believe  in 
charity  by  the  rule  of  three  and  love 
by  the  grammar.  You  are  a  school- 

Something  in  the  tone  caused  Pensee 
to  recoil.  She  set  the  dipper  down 
without  drinking. 

"  Nothing  more?"  she  asked  piquant' 
ly  as  she  reclined  on  the  maple-block 
and  laid  her  arm  on  the  barrel.  "Well 
I'm  sure  if  I  am  only  a  school-teacher, 
I  try  to  love  people." 

"  All  the  world's  a  school  you  mean," 
he  suggested. 

"  It  ought  to  be,"  she  replied  quickly. 
"  Would  be  if  we'd  all  try  to  learn." 

"  Not  so  far  from  my  good  mother's 
philosophy  either,"  he  observed  half  to 
himself.  "She  believes  Mums  is  a 

"  Your  mother  ij  a  good  woman, 
Mr.  Falconer,"  said  Pensee  warmly. 
"  She's  kind.     If  she  wasn't,  there's  an 

old  man  1  know  who  wouldn't  have 
much  joy  In  life." 

"  Kind  enough,"  was  the  equivocal 
rejoinder.  "  And  if  I  know  my  bring- 
ing-up,  one  of  that  kind  is  enough  for 
Mums  too." 

"Is  Mums  so  very  unkind,  then ? " 
asked  Pensee  innocently.  "  It  hasn't 
been  so  to  me. " 

"  It  isn't  the  fashion,"  he  said  ab- 
ruptly. ' '  But  a  turn  of  the  hair  might 
make  it  so.  You're  the  school-teacher, 
you  know. " 

"And  I'm  very  much  afraid  you're 
the  cynic,"  rejoined  Pensee,  laughing- 
ly, as  she  sprang  up.  "Mr.  Falconer," 
she  added  seriously,  laying  her  hand  on 
his  arm,  "you  mustn't  speak  lightly 
about  your  home  or  your  country,  as 
you  sometimes  do,  I'm  afraid.  You 
should  love  both  as  youdoyour  own  life, 
and  if  necessary  fight  to  defend  the 
honour  of  both." 

Peart  looked  down  into  the  pale 
child-face,  tit  with  its  deep  eyes.  She 
was  so  simple,  so  eloquent ;  in  purity 
of  innocence  a  child,  in  thought  a  wo- 
man. All  the  intelligence  he  possessed 
took  a  thrill  from  her  words  :  not  the 
sense-rapture  of  the  dance,  but  some- 
thing more  vital  that  leads  a  man  to 
the  heroism  of  character. 

"  Miss  Vale,"  he  said,  in  low,  delib- 
erate tone,  "  if  my  home  and  my 
country  could  speak  to  me  as  you 
have  done,  my  life  could  have  no  place 
beside  the  honour  of  both."    ' 

With  that  hand  on  his  arm,  that 
face  looking  up  into  his,  and  the  echo 
of  those  words  in  his  ears,  Peart  Fal- 
coner seemed  just  then  to  be  in  another 
world,  far  above  Mums  and  memory, 
of  which  Pensee  Vale  in  her  moral 
purity  was  the  spirit 

The  night  seemed  to  slumber  on  the 
big  maples,  that  never  moved  in  the 
still  air.  The  fiddle  in  the  parlour 
sounded  like  a  mouse  playing  with  a 
rat.  The  kitchen  windows  rattled  and 
the  old  parlour  floor  thumped  so  loud 
that'the  fiddler  had  to  call  off  like  an 
auctioneer.  The  cattle  were  sleeping 
round  the  stack  now.  The  hogs,  piled 
heads  and  tails  two  deep  ia  the  big 
hole  by  the  barn  door,  where  the  cows 

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had  chewed  out  the  chaff,  woke  up 
now  and  then,  drowsily  squabbled  and 
went  to  sleep  ag'ain. 

Supper  was  expected  soon  in  the 
kitchen.  Sylvia  Moss  was  just  giving 
the  last  stroke  to  the  big  table,  with 
Rudge  and  Molly  at  her  elbow.  Min- 
erva was  over  at  Caleb  Tooze's  to  get 
the  old  man.  All  the  boys  that  were  not 
dancing  crowded  in  one  corner  of  the 
kitchen,  making  hungry  comments  on 
the  bill  of  fare  and  incidentally  chaffing 
Molly,  who  was  so  absorbed  in  second- 
ing Rudge's  motions  that  she  put  three 
pumpkin-pies  at  one  end  of  the  table 
and  two  bowls  of  cider-sauce  at  the 

Suddenly  the  door  opened,  and  out 
came  Rudge  with  Molly  on  his  arm. 

Pensee  started  as  if  cut  by  a  whip, 
and  sprang  round  the  comer  of  the 
house  at  the  back.  Peart  backed  on 
to  the  lawn  and  round  by  the  front. 
Neither  was  noticed  by  Rudge  and 
Molly,  who  made  straight  for  the  cider 

"George  I  "  shouted  Rudge,  as  he 
grabbed  the  dipper,  "here's  somebody's 
drink  too  many,  I  guess.  Want  it, 

"  Well,  you  got  a   pile   of  eddikit, 

ain't  you  ?  "  retorted  Molly  indignantly. 

"  Awright,"   said   Rudge,    briskly, 

"there's  lots  more,"  and  gulped  the 

dipper  empty. 

"  Well,  I  think  you  might  'a'  giv 
a  fella  a  taste,  anyhow,"  said  Molly 
gingerly.  "  You  ain't  poison.  I'm  as 
dry  as  a  fish." 

"  So  be  i.  Lemme  hoi'  the  dipper, 
Moll.  You  pult  the  buog.  I'll  say 
when.     Steady  now." 

Molly  pulled.  The  cider  flew  ;  ran 
over  on  to  Rudge's  flne  boots  ;  spat- 
tered Molly's  skirt.  Rudge  yelled. 
No  use.  Molly  couldn't  get  the  bung 
back,  and  Rudge  had  to  stick  his  big 
thumb  in  the  vent  to  keep  the  cider 
out  of  the  well. 

Molly  tittered  as  she  gave  him  the 
plug  and  took  the  dipper. 

"Rudge — "she   said,    and   sipped. 
"Well,"  responded  Rudge,  looking 
at  his  wet  boots  in  the  window  glare. 
"Pretty  good  cider,  ain't  it,  Moll  ?" 

"  Mb — mh  1  "  sipping  again. 
"Rudge — "  Another  sip.  This  time 
Molly  choked. 

Rudge  began  to  whack  her  on  the 
back.  "Jiminyl"  he  said.  "Guess 
you  must  'a  got  the  stick  in  your 
throat  didn't  you  ?" 

"  Rudge — "  gasped  Molly. 

"  Ya — as,  say  it  agin  an'  say  it 
slow,"  answered  Rudge. 

"  I  think,  Rudge,"  tittering  again 
and  threatening  to  choke,  "you'd 
oughta  let  m«  say  when." 

A  crowd  of  boys  and  girls  came 
jostling  out.  Rudge  and  Molly  got 
mixed  up  among  them  somewhere. 
The  cider  barrel  gurgled  away  pretty 
freely  after  that.  By  the  time  Rudge 
and  Molly  were  through  scuffling  it  had 
lock-jaw.  The  boys  had  to  tip  it  then; 
and  when  it  finally  refused  to  say 
another  word  they  sent  it  blundering 
off  the  block  and  started  to  play  tag 
with  it  on  the  lawn. 

Up  the  lane  under  the  maples  came 
the  widow  Falconer.  Caleb  Tooze 
hunched  over  his  stick  at  her  sw.rling 

Minerva  jabbered  to  him  likean'owl. 
Caleb  squeaked  in  reply  as  he  got  up 
on  the  stoop ;  something  about  its 
being  the  first  time  in  fifteen  years  at 
that  time  of  the  night.  The  boys  gave 
the  cider  barrel  its  final  hoist  into  the 
currant  bushes  and  followed  in.  Sup- 
per was  called.  The  fiddle  stopped 
scraping.  Chairs  began  to  rattle  be- 
fore the  windows  stopped.  The  par- 
lour and  front  hall  got  suddenly  empty; 
the  kitchen  as  quickly  full.  All  who 
couldn't  sandwich  themselves  round 
the  huge  table  galleried  up  three  deep 
along  the  walls,  round  the  stove,  in 
the  doorway,  looking  on.  Caleb 
Tooze  sat  humped  under  the  dish- 
towels  next  the  woodbox.  The  widow 
had  intended  that  the  old  man  should 
sit  at  the  first  table.  Caleb  didn't 
care.  He  watched  Minerva  as  she  per- 
formed dead  marches  about  the  table 
finding  empty  cups.  Molly  followed 
with  the  teapot,  fervently  thanking  all 
her  stars  at  once  that  Rudge  Moss  had 
not  taken  Pensee  to  supper.  Molty 
always  got  to  the  other  side  of  the 

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table  by  passing  Rudge  at  one  end. 
Nine  times  out  of  ten  it  was  the  long- 
est way  round  and  the  shortest  way 
home.  Once  as  she  dawdled  past, 
Rudge  leaned  out  of  the  crowd  and 
grabbed  her  by  the  arm. 

"Say,"  he  whispered,  "where  the 
doose  is  Pensee  ?  " 

"  Molly  I  Two  cups  here.  Hurry 
now."  It  was  the  widow's  deep  voice 
above  all  the  din.  Molly  went  As 
she  poured  the  tea  the  widow  spoke 
into  her  ear.  "  Molly,  where's  Pearty 
an'  Pensee  ?  " 

Molly  could  have  emptied  the  tea- 
leaves  on  the  floor.  I'm  not  Pensee 
Vale's  shadda,"  she  said  as  she  flounc- 
ed round  to  fill  the  teapot  again. 
Half  way  to  the  stove  peaked  Mrs. 
Moss,  just  easing  a  new  "punkia-pie" 
down  over  somebody's  head,  asked  her 
mysteriously  about  Pensee.  Molly  said, 
"Aw  you  sillyl  "  and  tossed  her  head. 
Then  when  she  got  to  the  stove  the 
first  thing  she  felt  was  Caleb  Tooze's 
stick  bored  into  her  ankle.  Caleb's 
smoked  herring  face  peered  out  from 
under  the  dish-towels.  "  Say,"  he 
squeaked,"  yuh  hain't  seen  the  school- 
ma'am  anywheres,  hev  yuhP  " 

"Oh  darn  the  school-ma'am  !"  snap- 
ped Molly  as  she  clapped  the  lid  on  the 
teapot.  She  filled  every  cup  she  came 
to  after  that ;  saucer  too. 


Not  a  dead  leaf  quivered.  The 
glimmering  quinces  breathed  wantonly 
on  the  tepid  air,  heavy,  aromatic,  their 
last  smouldering  incense  before  the 
frost.  The  house-lights  flushed  faintly 
on  the  low  brown  tops  near  the  lawn. 
Down  by  the  road  it  was  dark. 

"There's  my  band,  then — if  you 
must.  But  'tis  neither  my  face  nor 
my  heart." 

The  voice  was  tremulous  as  if  from 
tears.  But  a  moment  before  Peart  Fal- 
coner had  intercepted  Pensee  just  cut- 
ting through  the  quince  orchard  on  her 
way  to  the  hand-gate  in  the  comer. 
He  had  offered  to  drive  her  home.  She 
had  refused. 

It  was  a  white  hand  she  reached 
through  the   shadow    of  the  i>dorous 

quince  shrubs.  Peart  Falconer  gripped 
it  tensely.  She  couldn't  see  the  marks 
of  passion  on  his  face.  Her  own  was 
but  a  gleam. 

"  Tell  me  this,"  he  said  in  low,  quick 
tones,  "  why  did  you  dance  with  me  in 
that  woman's  house?" 

"the  almost  savage  abruptness  of  his 
manner  startled  Pensee.  Her  hand 

"Surely — I  must  not  make  confessor 
of  you."  The  words  were  as  much 
fearful  as  indignant.  Pensee  was  a 
child  ;  apt  to  surrender  herself  to  others 
io  matters  of  right  and  wrong.  The 
passion  of  this  man  struck  her  with 
almost  the  force  of  law,  or  she  had 
never  given  him  her  hand  to  say  good- 
night in  the  quince  orchard. 

"  In  Rome  as  Romans  do,"  he  went 
on  regardless.  "  Among  tights  and  a 
crowd  a  man's  arm  at  your  waist  is  no- 
thing. To  be  seen  alone  with  a  man 
in  the  dark  makes  even  talking  a  sin. 
Yet  you  have  a  heart.  Much  it  cares 
whether  a  man  fights  the  crime  in  his 
blood  for  the  sake  of  it.     Pensee  1 " 

His  hand  tightened  on  hers.  The 
subdued  irony  went  out  of  his  tone. 
He  spoke  her  name  passionately. 

"  Sh  ! "  she  said,  trembling  like  a 
child,  "don't  talk  so  of  wrong  when 
you  know  the  right.  You  read  books 
and  think,  far  more  than  I  who  try  to 
teach  right  to  children.  God  forgive 
me  if  they  go  wrong  at  my  example." 

"  Pensee,  Pensee, — you  child  !  You 
have  the  passion  in  those  eyes  if  you'd 
let  them  burn.  But  you  prate  about 
children,  and  books  and  schools,  when 
all  the  woman  in  you  goes  starving. 
For  heaven's  sake  don't  be  a  prude  I  " 

"  Now  you're  scolding  me,"  she  said 
with  a  tremor,  "all  because  I'm  a 
weak  girl  that  can't  say  wise  things 
about  woman  in  my  own  defence,  and 
eloquent  things  about  my  country  and 
all  that.  Oh  dear  I  but  I  can  love  the 
children  and  in  my  humble  way  try  to 
help  them.  I  must  not,  will  not  give 
so  much  as  a  shadow  of  my  life  to 
any  other.  Mr.  Falconer,  let  me  say 
good- night. 

"  Then  my  life  is  nothing  to  you  I " 
he  said  as  he  dropped  her  hand. 

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"Not  more  than  my  own,"  she 
answered  quickly.  "  Myself  is  my 
sacred  privilege.  You  have  do  right 
to  meddle  with  it." 

"And  that  self  will  kill  you,"  he 
said  passionately.  "For  so  sure  as 
you  refuse  to  love,  being  a  woman  you 
are  a  cheat.  You  can  see  a  man 
struggle  and  go  down  before  your  very 
eyes  when  the  light  of  them  and  no- 
thing else  would  save  him.  Pensee 
Vale,  1  choose  to  love  the  woman  for 
whose  sake  I  dare  to  do  right.  Dare 
you  refuse?" 

Doggedly  he  spoke  and  folded  his 
arms.  Pensee  shrank  away  into  the 
shadow  of  the  quince  shrubs. 

"  Dare  the  right  for  the  sake  of  it- 
self: so  shall  you  win  the  respect  of 
every  true  woman.  Mr.  Falconer,  good- 

It  was  like  the  sudden  shiver  of  a 
breeze  in  the  dead  leaves.  Softly  the 
swish  of  hef  skirts  over  the  long  dry 
grass  fainted  among  the  bhrubs.  The 
gate  clicked.  Her  white  face  gleamed 
a  moment  through  the  branches.  She 
passed  out. 

Down  by  Caleb  Tooze's  bridge  Pen- 
see  paused.  There  was  a  low,  swift 
rumble  in  the  rear,  the  clatter  of  gallop- 
ing hoofs  and  the  rattle  of  wheels.  It 
was  Peart  Falconer  driving  his  iron- 
grays.  Pensee  listened  till  she  could 
hear  nothing  but  a  faint  clippering  far 
back  on  the  Canada  Company  side- road 
somewhere  ;  then  mth  a  little  sob  she 
hurried  on. 

Mile  upon  mile  Peart  Falconer  urged 
his  iron-grays  that  autumn  night.  He 
let  them  choose  the  road ;  they  took 
the  stump  concession  as  often  as  the 
smooth  turnpike.     It  mattered  not  to 

At  last  they  got  on  to  the  side-road 
that  led  out  past  the  drab  school  and 
white  church.  As  they  turned  the  jog 
at  Mosses',  Rudge's  huge  shadow  was 
just  taking  off  its  collar  and  tie  on  the 
blind  at  the  end  of  the  log  house  up- 

But  there  was  no  light  west  from 
Caleb  Tooze's  shanty  back  at  the  slash- 
ing. Peart  stopped  his  horses  when 
he  came  to  the  bridge.     For  the  first 

time  in  years  the  old  bachelor  miser 
was  out  of  his  cabin  for  the  night. 
Minerva  Falconer  had  done  it.  For 
what  a  purpose  Peart  Falconer  well 
knew  as  he  waited  at  that  bridge  be- 
hind his  steaming  grays  and  let  his 
right  hand  tighten  on  its  line.  Not 
robbery  !  Minerva  Falconer  would  as 
soon  have  lost  both  her  children. 
Merely  to  satisfy  her  curiosity^-over 
the  will  I  That  must  be  either  on 
Caleb  Tooze's  person  or  in  the  hut.  If 
the  latter  it  would  take  more  beguile- 
ment  than  a  fat  supper  to  induce  him 
to  leave  it.  If  the  former  it  should  not 
be  hard  to  get  at  it  with  Caleb  asleep 
in  the  attic  over  the  kitchen. 

After  the  dancers  were  gone  that 
night  the  widow  Falconer  sat  by  her 
kitchen  stove  and  waited.  Caleb  was 
asleep.  She  knew  that,  for  she  had 
peremptorily  called  "Caleb!"  twice 
right  at  his  bed  an  hour  after  she  put 
him  away,  and  once  asked  if  he  had 
quilts  enough.  But  when  she  groped 
on  the  floor  to  find  his  clothes  she  could 
feel  nothing  but  his  coat,  vest  and 
boots.    Caleb  had  kept  his  trousers  on. 

Indeed  the  probabilities  are  had 
Caleb  been  given  his  choice  that  night 
between  losing  his  trousers  or  his  skin 
he  would  have  kept  the  trousers.  A 
man  values  most  what  gets  nearest  to 
his  ego.  Caleb's  earthly  ego  was  get- 
ting threadbare.  He  knew  that  when 
he  decided  thenceforth  and  forevermore 
to  keep  those  trousers  of  his  next  to  it. 

Still  the  widow  waited,  and  still 
Peart  came  not.  '  She  got  weary  at 
length  and  went  outside  to  listen.  The 
shrill  cold  whinny  of  an  owl  sounded 
over  by  Caleb  Tooze's  shanty.  That 
was  all. 

It  was  that  owl  Peart  Falconer  heard 
as  though  the  night-cursing  thing  had 
perched  right  in  his  brain,  when  with 
cold  fear  in  every  nerve  he  bolted  out 
of  Caleb's  shanty  window.  Peart  had 
entered  that  window  bent  upon  bur- 
glary. The  criminal  desire  had  rush- 
ed into  him  like  a  whirlwind  that  night 
the  moment  he  left  the  quince  orchard. 
It  was  balked  again. 

Whip  I  went  the  lash  across  the 
rumps  of  the  iron-grays.     They  soort- 

Digilized  by  Google 



ed  and  leaped.  The  hoofs  woUop- 
ed  on  the  laae  ;  the  wheels  rattled  ; 
brr-oom  [  across  the  bridge ;  up  the 
road,  under  the  maples  and  stopped  at 
the  stable  door. 

Peart  sprang  out  and  literally  tore 
the  animals  away  from  the  rig.  Paot- 
iog  like  dogs  they  plunged  into  the 

"Peartyl"  It  was  the  widow's 
voice  right  at  the  stable  door. 

Peart  turned  and  faced  her.  With  a 
thrill  of  self- recovery  he  folded  his 
arms  and,  for  a  moment,  would  not 
speak.  He  had  shown  his  passion  to 
one  woman  that  night.  He  would  hide 
it  from  this  one. 

"  Mother,"  he  said  with  mocking 
emphasis,  "  it  takes  an  old  man  to 
fool  a  knave.  We  shall  never  catch 
him.  But,"  setting  his  teeth,  "  if  1 
could  get  the  fingers  you  taught  knav- 
ery to  on  that  money,  they  should 
tear  it  to  bits  so  smalt  not  even  your 
eyes  could  tell  them.     Ha  I  ha  !  " 

The  owl  caught  up  the  rest.  Right 
over  the  bam  somewhere  its  cold,  hid- 
eous whinny  cursed  the  night.  The 
widow  heard  it  and  sprang  to  the 

It  was  already  barred  inside.  She 
could  hear  Peart  unharnessing  the 
horses.      It  was  getting  colder. 


Minerva  Falconer  slept  not  a  wink 
that  night.  She  was  up  next  morning 
at  dawn.  So  was  Peart ;  and  out 
drawing  com  when  Caleb  Tooze  came 
downstairs  to  breakfast. 

Minerva  said  nothing  to  the  old 
man,  as  she  helped  Molly  wash  the 
clutter  of  dirty  dishes  left  by  the  bee 
and  the  dance  ;  didn't  even  notice  him 
as  he  took  his  hat  and  cane  and  wan- 
dered out.  He  was  in  his  shanty  build- 
ing a  fire  before  the  dishes  were  done. 
The  rising  wind  beat  the  smoke  down 
over  the  slashing. 

Minerva  said  not  a  word  at  dinner. 
Neither  did  Peart,  who  went  out  draw- 

ing com  again  before  he  fed  his  horses 
oats.     Neither  did  Molly. 

In  the  afternoon  it  started  to  spit 
snow  past  the  window.  Minerva  took 
a  shawl  and  went  out.  She  might 
have  got  on  with  Peart  to  ride  as  he 
was  just  driving  out  of  the  lane  again 
and  down  the  road  for  another  load  ol 
corn.  But  she  preferred  to  walk.  Per* 
haps,  if  she  had  carried  a  basket  as  she 
usually  did  when  she  visited  Caleb 
Tooze,  it  had  been  different.  But  she 
carried  nothing  that  afternoon  as  she 
entered  the  lane  and  went  back  to  the 
shanty,  except  the  shawl  over  her  head 
and  the  look  of  Roman  resolution  on 
her  face. 

She  entered  without  Icnock.  Caleb 
sat  hunched  over  his  knees  and  hands 
by  the  stove,  looking  as  though  he 
hadn't  been  away  for  a  year.  He 
squirmed  a  little  and  the  chair  squeaked 
as  Minerva  entered  and,  without  remov- 
ing the  shawl  from  her  head,  stood  by 
the  table  eyeing  him  with  mournful  se- 
verity. The  unconscionable  little  knot ! 

It  was  no  use  to  say  anything. 
Caleb,  doubtless,  had  a  pain  in  his 
head.  But  if  she  began  to  talk  she 
would  have  need  of  the  tower  of  Babel 
before  she  finished. 

The  fire  was  low.  Minerva  opened 
the  front  door  of  the  stove.  A  gust  of 
wind  blew  down  the  pipe  and  puffed 
the  ashes  out  white.  Caleb  moved  a 
little,  but  said  nothing.  She  opened 
the  door.  A  dead  leaf  hopped  on  the 
step  and  slid  across  to  the  old  man's 
feet.  He  merely  changed  legs,  pulled 
up  his  collar  and  shivered.  The  dying 
coals  clinked  in  the  stove.  The  quilt 
on  the  bed  waved  its  edge  in  the  wind. 
The  widow  pulled  down  the  blinds. 
The  shanty  got  dark  in  the  comers. 
Standing  over  the  old  man  in  the  dull 
light  from  the  door  Minerva  bent  her 

"  Caleb,"  she  said  in  a  deep  voice, 
"  come  I  " 

And  the  old  man  rose  and  followed 
her  out  of  the  shanty. 

(To  be  continued.) 

Digitized  byGoOgIc 




RUFFLED  and  dark  and  warm  the  evening  dwells 
On  hill  and  woodland,  g:rey  with  autumn  raic, 
And  throuffh  the  dusk  the  far-off  Oxford  bells 

Move  in  their  slumber,  wake,  and  sleep  again. 
And  g'leam  by  golden  gleam,  o'er  Cumner's  crest 

The  daylight  fades,  but  still,  ah,  still  I  see 
Poor  Thyrsis'  lonely  elm — tho'  long  at  rest 

Our  Thyrsis  and  his  troubled  heart  must  be. 

But  listen,  where  sweet  rings  the  twilight  note 

Of  some  late  wood-bird  on  the  hillside  green, 
Where  through  the  lonely  song  there  seems  to  float 

The  pathos  of  the  summer  that  has  been. 
Ah,  listen  still  I    Tis  but  a  vesper  bird, 

Yet  how  it  wakes  a  thousand  old  desires. 
Perhaps  it  is  the  note  that  Shelley  heard 

When,  years  ago,  he  watched  these  Oxford  spires  ; 

When  years  ago,  from  these  same  uplands  grey, 

He  saw  the  Oxford  lights  across  the  rain, 
In  dark  autumnal  evenings  dreamed  away 

To  seek  the  solace  of  a  woodland  strain  ; 
And  here  in  other  days,  too,  Thyrsis  went 

Happy  with  him  who  smote  a  youthful  lyre, 
Yet  felt  too  well  the  old,  old  discontent, 

The  earthly  reach,  the  infinite  desire. 

Their  voices  took  a  troubled  sound  and  they 

Too  early  learned  the  plaintive  autumn  touch  - 
Your  mournful  bells  from  out  the  valley  grey 

Re-call  to-night  their  music  over-much. 
1  hear  their  twilight  tingling  swell  and  die 

Along  the  dusk,  and  all  the  distant  chime 
Seems  one  old,  old  reiterated  cry, 

Blown  strangely  in  across  grey  gulfs  of  time 

For  I,  sweet  city  where  regretful  falls 

Time's  iron  hand  on  ivied  tower  and  spire, 
I  know  how  thrills  beneath  thy  crumbling  walls 

In  thine  unageing  heart  the  old  desire 
To  lead  us  from  the  twilight  to  the  dawn  ; 

[  catch  the  subtle  hope,  the  silent  word  : 
For  clear  dovsit  Oxford  hill  and  college  lawn 

There  rings  the  song  of  one  remembering  btrd. 

Oxford,  England,   1898.  Arthur  J.  Stringer, 




JOW  that  the  CaDadian  Goverament 
has  decided  to  assume  five- 
eiifhteenths  of  the  cost  of  an  all-British 
Pacific  Cable,  and  the  British  Columbia 
Government  two-eig^hteenths,  the  de- 
tails of  the  scheme  may  be  considered. 

In  1896,  an  Imperial  Committee  in- 
vesti^ated  the  proposal  to  lay  a  cable 
from  British  Columbia  on  the  west 
coast  of  Canada  to  some  point  in  the 
Australasian  colonies.  The  Earl  of 
Selbome  was  chairman  of  this  Com- 
mittee ;  while  Lord  Strathcona  and 
the  Hon.  A.  G.  Jones  represented 
Canada.  Their  report  was  completed 
about  the  first  of  the  year  1897,  but 
was  not  published  by  the  Imperial 
Government  until  recently. 

Practicability. — The  Committee  be- 
lieved the  project  to  he  practicable, 
but  suggested  a  preliminary  survey. 
They  stated,  however,  that  the  infor- 
mation to  hand  was  quite  sufficient  to 
justify  the  making  of  the  cable  con- 
temporaneously with  the  survey.  A 
recent  despatch  from  Victoria,  B.C., 
(May  I  ith)  says  that  the  British  survey 
ship  Egena  has  been  instructed  to  pre- 
pare to  survey  the  proposed  route. 
This  looks  as  if  the  Imperial  Govern- 
ment was  willing  to,  at  least,  bear  the 
expense  of  a  survey.  Whether  it  is 
willing  to  assist  in  arrangements  look- 
ing to  the  manufacture  of  a  cable  in 
the  meantime  remains  to  be  seen. 

Route. — TheCommittee  recommend- 
ed that  the  route  should  be  from  Van- 
couver via  Fanning  or  Palyrma  Island, 
Fiji  and  Norfolk  Island,  with  branches 
from  the  latter  to  Queensland  and  New 
Zealand.  Laid  in  this  way,  the  cable 
would  be  all-British,  and  thus  meet  the 
expressed  wishes  of  the  Canadian  and 
Australasian  Governments. 

Length. — The  length  of  cable  would 
be  7.986  miles.  The  connections  would 
be  via  the  Commerdal  Cable  Company 
toCanso,  Nova  Scotia,  and  then  across 
the  continent  by  the  Canadian  Pacific 
tel^raph.    This  would  mean  consider- 

able business  for  these  two  companies, 
and  the  Committee  seemed  to  be  of  the 
opinion  that  some  arrangement  should 
be  made  with  them.  It  would  seem 
quite-  reasonable  that  the  Governments 
concerned  should  demand  from  these 
two  companies  either  a  special  rate  on 
all  business  given  to  them,  or  a  per- 
centage of  the  receipts  on  all  business 
originating  from  the  laying  of  the  cable. 
This  is  a  point  to  which,  undoubtedly, 
the  Canadian  Government  will  give  its 
serious  consideration  before  an  agree- 
ment is  finally  approved. 

Cost. — The  size  and  weight  of  the 
cable  depends  upon  the  speed  required 
for  transmission.  The  Committee  con- 
cluded that  a  core  of  553  pounds  of 
copper  and  368  pounds  of  gutta  percha 
to  the  nautical  mile  might  he  expected 
to  give  40  paying  letters  per  minute. 
This  would  be  a  capacity  of  1,620,000 
words  a  year  of  three  hundred  days  of 
eighteen  hours  each.  One  company 
offered  to  lay  a  cable  of  this  class  for 
;^i,5i7,ooo,  this -sum  including  the 
erection  at  each  station  of  a  suitable 
dwelling  house  and  operating  room 
with  duplicate  sets  of  all  proper  instru- 
ments ;  also  the  use  of  two  cable-re- 
pairing ships,  with  the  cost  of  main- 
taining them  as  well  as  the  cables  them- 
selves for  three  years.  The  working 
expenses  would  be  ^^22,000  a  year, 
while  replacing  and  repair  vessels 
would  bring  this  up  to  ;^93,ooo  a 
year.  Estimating  the  capital  at  £1,- 
5cx>,ooo  and  the  replacement  period  of 
this  capital  at  fifty-years,  the  following 
table  shows  the  total  cost  per  year: 

Interest  at  3^  p.c. 

Interest £41,150 

Sinking  Fund '4'3" 

Working:  Expenses 31,000 

Maintenance 70,000 

Total £147.56" 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that  the  total 

cost  per  year  would  be  about  $700, 00a 

If  the  South  Australian  Government  and 

the  Eastern  Extension  Telegraph  Com- 


Digitized  by  Google 



pany  should  require  to  be  naJd  for  loss 
of  trade,  the  cost  would  be  correspond- 
iugly  increased. 

Revenue. — TheCommittee  estimated 
the  revenue  would  be  750,000  words 
for  the  first  year,  and  ten  per  cent,  in- 
crease each  subsequent  year.  At  two 
shillings  a  word,  this  would  net  £7^,- 
000  the  first  year ;  ^^83,500  the  second 
year  ;  and  £90,750  the  third  year.  It 
would  require  a  rate  of  about  three 
shillings  per  word  to  equalize  revenue 
and  cost. 

Ownership. — The  Committee  was  of 
the  opinion  that  the  cable  should  be 
owned  and  worked  by  the  Governments 
interested.  Id  this  decision  the  Com- 
mittee expressed  its  disapproval  of  the 
subsidy  arrangement,  thus  reading  a 

lesson  to  such  Governments  as  ours 
which  seem  to  have  bound  themselves 
up  with  the  subsidy  principle  for  all 
public  undertakings. 

Management. — The  Committee  fav- 
oured the  general  direction  of  the  cable 
being  in  the  hands  of  a  manager  in 
London.  Just  why  Lord  Selborne 
and  his  associates  desired  to  have  the 
management  in  London  Instead  of  in 
British  Columbia  or  in  Queensland  is 
difficult  to  imagine.  The  general  direc- 
tor should  be  at  one  end  of  the  cable, 
or  close  to  one  end  of  it,  not  6,000  miles 
away  from  the  nearest  end.  If  it  is 
desired  to  have  the  management  in  a 
governmental  city,  why  not  choose 
Ottawa  ?  Canada's  contribution  to  the 
project  is  greater  than  Great  Britain's. 


ON  more  than  one  occasion  Lord 
Salisbury  has  declared,  with 
gentle  satire,  that  the  worst  enemies  a 
Foreign  Minister  has  to  face  are  the 
necessity  of  making  speeches,  and  the 
premature  publicity  given  to  the  nego- 
tiations. In  spite  of  these  trying  ob- 
stacles the  British  Foreign  Minister 
has  been  able  to  spring  a  surprise  upon 
an  eager  critical  generation  of  news- 
paper readers  by  his  agreement  with 
Russia.  It  may  only  be  a  truce,  since 
each  country  has  a  profound  distrust  of 
the  other,  but  for  the  present  at  least, 
it  appears,  the  danger  of  a  war  with 
Russia  over  the  Chinese  question  is  re- 
moved. England  is  to  have  her  sphere 
of  influence  in  China,  and  Russia's 
clutch  upon  the  north  is  to  tighten  into 
a  permanent  bold.  Ever  since  the 
Crimean  war  Russia  has  had,  not  un- 
justly, a  suspicion  of  English  diplo- 
macy, while  by  far  the  most  potent 
elements  in  English  politics  are  possess- 
ed of  the  idea  that  Russia  is  a  dangerous 
friend  and  a  still  more  dangerous 
enemy.      But  Russia  needs  British  cap- 

ital and  the  British  market,  while  Eng- 
land is  always  ready  for  peace — on  her 
own  terms — with  anyone. 

The  Peace  Conference  at  the  Hague 
may  now  meet  without  fear  that  a  war 
will  break  out  during  its  deliberations. 
It  will  be  composed  of  able  men,  but 
the  general  opinion  is  that  their  discus- 
sions can  be  little  more  than  academic. 
There  are  some  things  which  cannot  be 
carried  out,  and  a  disarmament  policy 
is  one  of  them.  The  position  of  Eng- 
land is  peculiar ;  she  of  all  countries 
would  suffer  most  from  war  and  at  the 
same  time  can  best  bear  the  burden  im- 
posed by  the  cost  of  armies  and  fleets. 
The  navy  is  the  real  source  of  her 
strength,  but  since  it  is  essential  to 
preserve  a  world-wide  empire,  its  with* 
drawal  is  an  impossibility.  In  the 
abstract,  no  doubt,  the  English  dele- 
gates to  the  Conference  will  talk  peace 
until  their  eyelids  can  no  longer  wag, 
but  when  it  comes  to  breaking  up  these 
magnificent  fleets  which  are  at  once  the 

:y  Google 


pride  and  safety  of  the  Empire,  the 
Government  that  would  propose  such  a 
policy  would  soon  be  on  its  last  legs. 
But  Russia,  France,  Italy  and  Austria 
are  borne  down  by  taxation  for  war 
purposes  and  it  is  quite  reasonable  that 
those  countries  should  discuss  the  pros 
and  cons  of  disaimameDt. 

In  France  the  wearisome  Dreyfus 
case  still  dra^  on  and  the  fate  of  Min* 
istries  and  the  honour  of  the  army 
hang  upon  the  issue.  If  one  knew  the 
real  mood  of  Paris  at  this  time  one 
could  predict  with  tolerable  certainty 
the  immediate  future  of  the  country. 
Abandoned  by  Russia  in  the  attempt  to 
bait  England,  the  French  Government 
has  been  obliged  to  drop  its  hectoring 
tone  and  to  settle  its  African  difficul- 
ties OD  a  basis  that  appears  to  be  a  fair 
compromise.  The  French  maybe  asking 
themselves  the  real  value  of  an  alliance 
which  failed  them  just  when  it  was 
most  needed.  The  commercial  interests 
that  centre  round  the  Paris  Exposition 
are  probably  shaping  policy  to  some 
extent  and  preparations  go  on  for  that 
interesting  and  money-yielding  event. 

Doubt  is  thrown  upon  the  cable- 
grams from  South  Africa  which  are 
said  to  be  doctored  to  suit  one  side  or 
the  other.  The  trouble  with  t^e  Trans- 
vaal continues  a  festering  sore,  and  at 
no  lime  since  its  occurrence  is  the  cri- 
minal folly  of  the  Jameson  Raid  more 
clearly  recognized.  Mr.  Rhodes  is  un- 
questionably a  man  of  great  force  and 
ability,  but,  right  or  wrongly,  the  view 
prevails  that  his  policy  is  not  a  purely 
patriotic  one  but  is  dictated  to  an  ap- 
preciable extent  by  the  interests  of  self- 
ish capitailists  of  whom  he  himself  is  a 
central  figure.  The  abilities  of  Sir 
Alfred  Milner,  the  Governor  at  the 
Cape,  are  now  being  brought  into  play 
and  bereft  of  German  assistance  it  re- 
mains to  be  seen  how  long  the  stubborn 
medisevalism  of  President  Kruger  can 
hold  out.  The  Uitlanders  have  a  sub- 
stantial grievance  in  the  deprivation  of 
political  rights,  but  behind  this  loom 

the  interests  of  investors  whose  cries 
are  quite  as  loud  and  quite  as  effective 
in  our  time  as  those  of  downtrodden 
civilians  who  want  votes  and  schools 
and  the  precious  privilege  of  open  agi- 
tation so  dear  to  democratic  hearts. 

Mr.  Rhodes  has  spoken  so  highly  of 
the  prospects  of  finding  gold  in  Rhode- 
sia that  a  rush  to  that  region  is  regard- 
ed as  probable.  When  Mr.  Selous, 
the  noted  hunter  of  big  game,  spoke  on 
the  prospects  of  Rhodesia,  in  his  ad- 
dress at  Toronto  two  years  ago,  he  was 
interpreted  as  damning  the  region  with 
faint  praise.  In  London  there  Is  a  fear 
that  too  great  expectations  may  be 
formed  of  Rhodesia.  But  the  English 
find  South  Africa  a  fascinating  field  for 
investment  and  must  be  left  to  acquire 
their  own  experience. 

In  Great  Britain,  Parliament  is  much 
occupied  with  the  passage  of  the  Lon- 
don Bill,  a  municipal  question,  it  is 
true,  but  one  of  vast  import,  affecting 
the  greatest  city  in  the  world.  No 
Englishman  dreams  of  grudging  the 
time  spent  upon  rearranging  the  local 
are  huddled  together  In  so  unwieldy  a 
mass  that  one  elective  body  cannot 
possibly  attend  to  their  affairs.  Mr. 
Balfour,  with  his  usual  insight  and 
urbanity,  is  aiding  the  passage  of  the 
bill,  the  principle  of  which  is  generally 
accepted,  in  spite  of  great  controversy 
over  the  details.  The  agitation  against 
ritualism  continues  with  unabated  force 
and  the  ultimate  epd  of  the  fight  is 
very  difficult  to  foresee.  !t  is  a  lay 
movement  of  unusual  persistency,  and 
the  prelates  and  the  Government  are 
visibly  embarrassed.  As  time  goes  on 
it  may  furnish  a  battle-cry  to  the  Op- 
position, since  extension  of  the  fran- 
chise, reform  of  the  House  of  Lords, 
and  disestablishment,  are  almost  the 
last  steps  which  militant  Radicalism 
has  to  take  toward  the  setting  up  of  a 
real  democracy.  In  Scotland  two  of 
the  Presbyterian  Churches,  the  Free 
Kirk  and  the  U.  P.  Church  are  taking 

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cautious  and  wary  steps  toward  cor- 
porate union,  in  order  to  line  up  for  a 
purely  secular  attack  on  the  old  Church 
of  Scotland,  whose  position  in  the  State 
is  exceptional,  since  its  privileg'es  as  an 
establishment  are  not  injurious  to  its 
neighbours,  while  it  continues  to  have 
a  stfong  hold  upon  the  sentiment  and 
the  pride  of  many  Scotsmen.  The 
Church  and  the  judicial  system  are  the 
last  official  vestiges  of  the  old  Scottish 

natJoDS  no  party  cares  to  divorce  itself 
from  such  a  policy.  The  feneral  elec- 
tion is  still  three  years  off,  and  there  is 
time  for  reconstruction  in  the  Liberal 
ranks.  To  the  onlooker  it  appears  as 
if  Lord  Rosebery  would  ultimately  be 
summoned  back  to  the  leadership  at  a 
time  when  a  clear-cut  policy  can  be 
proclaimed.  Just  now  there  is  no 
great  issue  on  which  to  force  the  fight- 
ing. An  Opposition  without  a  case  is 
in  sorry  plight. 

To  judge  the  new  Irish  County  Gov- 
ernment Act  by  a  single  election,  is 
hardly  logical.  The  landlord  influence 
was  undoubtedly  overturned,  although 
individual  landlords  have  been  gener- 
ously treated  by  the  voters.  It  would 
appear  as  if  the  gentry  as  a  class  must 
now  win  the  confidence  of  the  people 
and  assert  the  claims  that  may  fairly 
be  theirs  as  leaders  of  the  nation.  The 
problems  of  Ireland  are  peculiar  to  it- 
self, but  true  statesmanship  never  yet 
confessed  failure  in  any  given  political 
condition,  and  the  working  of  the  new 
municipal  bodies  may  be  made  smooth 
and  easy,  provided  the  right  spirit  is 
shown.  To  divide  the  community  on 
the  lines  of  creed,  or  on  the  clashing  of 
landlord  and  tenant,  can  only  mean,  in 
Ulster  and  elsewhere,  the  permanent 
ostracism  of  the  landowners  from  any 
potent  share  in  the  local  administration. 
There  is  great  unrest  in  the  English 
Liberal  party.  Sir  Henry  Campbell- 
Bannerman's  leadership  is  apparently 
a  makeshift  which  cannot  persist  in  the 
face  of  much  apathy  among  the  rank 
and  file  and  a  determined  call  for  a 
more  authoritative  voice.  Lord  Rose- 
bery's  popularity  is  a  factor  that  can- 
not be  ignored,  while  Sir  William 
Harcourt,  clever  as  he  is,  has  no  real 
hold  on  the  country  and  is  quite  unable 
to  marshal  the  hosts  of  Radicalism. 
It  is  declared  that  Imperialism  is  the 
dividing  line  in  the  Liberal  party. 
What  is  Imperialism?  When  it  con- 
sists, as  the  Imperialism  of  Lord  Salis- 
bury and  Lord  Rosebery  does,  of  a 
desire  to  preserve  peace  with  foreign 

The  United  States,  having  gone  into 
the  business  of  empire-building,  finds 
the  initial  proceedings  onerous  and 
expensive.  The  acquirement  of  Cuba, 
Hawaii  and  the  Philippines  will  discip- 
line the  politicians  who  have  for  several 
generations  been  able,  without  much 
fear  of  results,  to  shock  and  startle  the 
diplomacy  of  Europe.  The  Republic 
has  given  hostages  to  fortune.  This 
is  a  welcome  feature  of  the  war  with 
Spain.  A  vast  and  turbulent  demo- 
cracy, ill  disciplined  to  law,  loosely 
knit  for  every  purpose  except  that  of 
commerce,  singularly  safe  from  all 
foreign  menace,  self-sustaining  and 
rich,  might  be  a  dangerous  force 
among  modem  states.  There  must 
now  be  a  certain  amount  of  give  and 
take,  instead  of  an  ambitious  desire  to 
take  and  no  give.  In  spite  of  the 
sneers  and  the  fears  aroused  by  the 
new  Imperialism,  there  is  no  evidence 
that  President  McKinley  has  lost  his 
political  authority,  or  that  his  chances 
for  a  second  term  at  the  White  House 
are  endangered.  He  will  doubtless  be 
renominated  without  opposition  by  his 
party  next  year,  and  unless  some  new 
complication  arises,  he  will  be  re- 


It  is  claimed  that  the  atrocities  com- 
mitted in  the  South  upon  negro  crimin- 
als concern  a  very  small  percentage  of 
the  whole  population.  It  is  further 
contended  that  90  per  cent,  of  the 
negroes  are  law-abiding  and  innocent  of 
all  blame.  Both  statements  may  be 
true.  But  the  fact  that  the  eotire 
white    population     either    openly    or 

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silently  acquiesces  in  the  outrages, 
while  the  state  g^overnments  exhibit  a 
complete  paralysis  of  authority,  is  not 
a  reassuring  sign.  The  exercise  of  ail 
ad  minis  trative  functions  inmany  Sou  th- 
em States  is  vested  practically  in  the 
whites.  If  they  cannot  command  the 
confidence  of  their  own  people  in  in- 
flicting punishment  for  crime,  and  a 
section  of  these  very  whites  take  the 
law  into  their  own  hands,  the  condi- 
tion is  not  far  removed  from  anarchy. 
The  educated  ne|;roes  themselves  ad- 
mit that  summary  punishment  and 
cruel  atrocities  have  no  deterrent  effect 
whatever  upon  the  criminals  of  their 
race,  A  continuance  of  the  outrages, 
while  the  cause  for  them  exists,  may 
be  looked  for,  and  one  cannot  see  the 
end  of  this  painful  war  of  races. 

A  semi-official  denial  meets  the  re- 
port that  the  International  Commission 
between  Canada  and  the  United  States 
is  a  failure.  One  has  to  be  careful  in 
the  use  of  terms  in  describing  the  po- 
sition of  affairs.  Where  neither  side 
is  desperately  anxious  for  a  treaty,  the 
word  failure  is  perhaps  inappropriate. 
Two  men  meet  to  discuss  disputed 
points  and  part  without  reaching  a  con- 
clusion. This  is  not  exactly  a  failure, 
but  a  polite  agreement  to  disagree. 
There  is  such  a  thing  as  treating  an  in- 
ternational court  of  arbitration  with 
levity.  On  the  other  hand,  there  is 
always  a  danger  of  taking  matters  too 
seriously.  The  United  States  have  far 
more  weighty  questiops  to  consider 
than  border  disputes  with  Canada. 
The  Dominion  is  by  no  means  bent 
upon  a  treaty  with  the  States  at  any 
price.  We  must  do  the  best  we  can  to 
avoid  angry  feeling  and  time  may  settle 
the  principal  disputes  without  loss  of 
temper  on  either  side.  Mr.  Charl- 
ton, M.P.,  has  already,  in  this  maga- 
zine*, caused  a  great  deal  of  discussion 
by  his  statement  of  the  grievance  sus- 
*Canadian  Magazine  for  May, 

tained  by  Michigan  lumbermen  owing 
to  the  Ontario  legislation.  That  legis- 
lation was  in  accordance  with  public 
sentiment  and  no  serious  attempt  to 
challenge  its  constitutionality  has  yet 
been  made.  Perhaps  its  weakest  point 
is  that  it  was  passed  by  a  Government 
which  had  for  many  years  opposed  the 
passage  of  any  such  measure.  But 
consistency  in  politicians  evokes  no 
gratitude  from  the  electors  in  any  coun- 
try and  the  Ontario  Ministers  submit- 
ted to  the  inevitable  as  gracefully  as 
could  have  been  expected. 

When  the  United  States  Government 
refused  to  release  McLeod  many  years 
ago  on  the  ground  that  he  was  in  the 
custody  of  New  York  State,  and  Lord 
Palnierston,  with  deadly  civility,  re- 
marked that  he  could  not  declare  war 
agfunst  the  State  of  New  York,  it  was 
felt  that  the  independent  powers  of 
states  would  never  be  recognized  by 
any  foreign  country  strong  enough  to 
resent  evasion  of  duty  by  the  federal 
authority.  In  Canada,  by  the  nature 
of  the  constitution  of  1867,  the  pro- 
vincial powers  were  weaker  than  those 
claimed  by  individual  States  in  the 
Union.  Agitations  and  many  decisions 
by  the  highest  courts  have,  during 
twenty  years,  tended  to  strengthen 
provincial  rights.  Disallowance  of 
provincial  laws  has  become  a  rare  and, 
politically,  a  dangerous  proceeding. 
The  enactments  of  British  Columbia  in 
regard  to  Japanese  immigration,  and 
the  mining  rights  enjoyed  by  foreigners, 
point  to  some  conflict  between  federal 
and  provincial  authorities.  A  vigor- 
ously  governed  province  may  cause  in- 
ternational complications.  We  are  not 
as  free  as  we  thought  we  were  of  the 
dangerarisingfromaconflict  of  interest 
and  policy  between  the  Dominion  and 
some  part  of  it.  The  outcome,  both 
politically  and  constitutionally,  offers 
some  interesting  speculations. 

A.  H.    U.   Colquhoun. 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 

THE  article  in  this  number  by  the 
late  Senator  Boulton  has  an  in- 
terest  apart  from  the  matter  contained 
therein.  It  was  penned  by  the  late 
honourable  g'entleman  just  before  his 
departure  from  Ottawa  to  Manitoba 
where  his  sudden  death  occurred,  and 
it  will  therefore  go  on  record  as  his  last 
public  utterance.  There  is  no  doubt 
also  that  in  it  may  be  found  those  ideas 
which  were  nearest  his  heart  during  his 
paHiamentarj'  career. 

The  story  by  Gilbert  Parker  which 
occupies  the  place  of  honour  in  this 
issue  is  published  simultaneously  with 
The  Atlantic  Monthly  and  Lady  Church- 
ill's new  quarterly.  It  deals  with  life 
in  Egypt,  where  Mr.  Parker  spent  the 
greater  part  of  the  past  twelve  months. 

The  country  is  prosperous.  Those 
years  of  distrust,  commonly  called 
"  bard  times,"  have  passed  once  more 
like  the  summer  thunderstorm.  The 
Minister  of  Finance  and  his  colleagues, 
assisted  by  somevery  clever  journalists, 
are  endeavouring  to  prove  that  this 
prosperity,  this  passing  of  the  thunder- 
clouds, is  due  to  the  Liberal  Govern- 
ment. The  ex-Minister  of  Finance,  hts 
very  wordy  leader,  and  other  members 
of  the  Opposition  are  endeavouring  to 
prove  that  the  prosperity  now  being 
enjoyed  is  no  more  due  to  Liberal  rule 
than  to  Conservative  rule ;  that,  in  fact, 
the  Conservative  policy  sowed  the 
wind  which  drove  away  the  clouds. 
Both  groups  of  gentlemen  are  wrong. 
The  prosperity  of  this  country,  the  ex- 
pansion of  trade,  the  developing  confi- 
dence of  the  people  are  due  more  to  the 
fact  that  Canadians  have  come  to  realize 

that  Canada's  hope  lies  in  her  people, 
not  in  her  politicians. 

During  Uits  half  century,  the  politi- 
cians have  performed  but  three  notable 
deeds.  They  brought  about  confed- 
eration, a  most  wonderful  accomplish- 
ment ;  they  built  railways  from  Halifax 
to  Vancouver,  a  wonderful  accomplish- 
ment;  and  they  looked  nice  at  the 
Jubilee  in  [897,  an  accomplishment. 

What  else  have  they  done,  that  a 
dozen  permanent  heads  of  departments 
could  not  have  done  with  one  quarter 
the  expense?  Aye,  and  have  done 
better.  They  would  not  have  bonused 
duplicate  railways  over  half  the  coun- 
try ;  they  would  not  have  built  canals 
that  are  never  used ;  they  would 
not  have  dredged  harbours  where 
there  was  no  likelihood  of  steam  vessels 
entering  ;  they  would  not  have  built 
post-offices,  armouries  and  other  public 
buildings  at  double  prices  and  where 
they  were  unnecessary  ;  they  would 
have  prevented  a  clash  over  the 
Manitoba  schools  ;  they  would  have 
settled  our  untenanted  fertile  lands 
with  double  the  speed  ;  and  they  would 
have  made  the  administrative  and  civil 
service  a  plac^  for  men  of  iotelligence 
and  force,  instead  of,  as  it  is  at  present, 
a  refuge  for  windy  and  unscrupulous 
politicians — with  a  sprinkling  of  poets. 

The  country  needs  a  new  transpor- 
tation policy  and  a  new  Northwest 
settlement  policy  and  no  one  seems 
anxious  to  provide  either.  The  Gov- 
ernment upholds  the  discredited  policy 
of  railway  and  shipping  bonuses  and 
the  inadequate  policy  of  assisted  Euro- 
pean immigration.  The  former  policy 
plays  into  the  bands  of  selfish  capital- 
ists and  the   latter    allows    the   young 

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Canadian  tocross  the  line  into  the  United 
States  without  a  friendly  word  to  Ud 
him  halt  and  thinlc. 

The  British  colony  of  Queensland 
was  once  asked  to  make  a  land  grant 
without  cash  to  two  proposed  railway 
companies  and  to  its  credit  be  it  said 
it  refused.  The  Australasian  colonies, 
including'  New  Zealand,  have  spent 
;£i3i, 000,000  on  railways,  but  they 
own  every  mile  on  which  this  money 
was  spent.  In  1897,  the  profit 
from  these  lines  was  3.16  per  cent,  on 
the  total  investment.  The  prospect  is 
that  in  a  year  or  two  the  profit  will  be 
more  than  the  interest  on  this  sum.  In 
Canada  we  have  spent  $250,000,000 
without  the  slightest  chance  of  getting 
back  one  million.  The  only  legislator 
in  Canada  bold  enough  to  call  a  halt 
in  this  bonus  system  is  Premier  Mar- 
chand  of  Quebec.  He  has,  I  under- 
stand, decided  that  no  more  provincial 
railway  bonuses  shall  be  granted  at 
present.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  he  will 
make  his  policy  permanent  so  far  as  his 
province  is  concerned.  Some  mem- 
bers of  the  Dominion  Parliament  in  the 
present  and  previous  sessions  have 
protested,  but  the  majority  foolishly 
accept  the  bonus  policy  as  a  necessity. 

If  new  railways  must  be  built,  and 
the  Federal  or  the  Provincial  Govern- 
ments feel  that  they  should  be  aided, 
they  may  either  take  stock  in  the  road, 
lend  money  for  a  term  of  years  on  a 
mortg'age,  or  guarantee  the  bonds  for 
a  term  of  years.  These  actions  could 
be  defended  in  certain  cases  ;  bonuses 
are  wholly  unsound. 

As  to  the  settlement  of  the  North- 
west, the  efforts  of  the  Dominion  Gov- 
ernment should  not  be  confined  alone 
to  assisted  immigration  from  Europe. 
The  surplus  population  of  Eastern  Can- 
ada should  be  coaxed  to  the  vacant 
lands  of  the  wesL  South  Australia, 
Victoria,  Western  Australia  and  New 
Zealand  lend  money  to  settlers  at  low 
rates  of  interest.  Some  plan  could  be 
arranged  to  make  loans  to  young  men 

from  the  east,  who  take  up  and  im- 
prove lands  in  Manitoba  and  the  Terri- 
tories. Since  Confederation,  about 
eight  millions  of  dollars  have  been  ex- 
pended on  foreign  immigrants.  This 
sum  atone  would  have  been  sufficient 
to  give  35,000  families  of  settlers,  one 
hundred  dollars  a  year  for  three  years  \ 
or  it  would  have  paid  the  interest  on 
over  $6,000,000  for  thirty  years  at  four 
per  cent.  That  six  million  dollars 
would  have  furnished  a  free  loan  of  five 
hundred  dollars  for  five  years  for  72,000 
families.  If  the  Government  were  to 
offer  any  young  man  from  Ontario, 
Quebec  and  Nova  Scotia  who  would 
go  west,  take  up  and  improve  a  farm 
of  160  acres,  a  loan  of  $500  for  five 
years,  without  interest,  there  would  be 
many  who  would  take  advantage  of  it. 
Or  better  still,  if  the  Government  would 
offer  every  such  young  farmer  a  grant 
of  $50  a  year  for  five  years  for  certain 
improvements  on  his  new  farm,  the 
trains  would  hardly  carry  all  who 
wished  to  take  advantage  of  such  a 
favourable  situation. 

But  the  Government  apparently  does 
not  care  about  the  surplus  population 
of  the  east.  It  prefers  Doukhobors, 
Galicians,  Hungarians  and  Icelanders. 

I  do  not  wish  to  belittle  the  work 
done  by  the  Immigration  Department. 
The  Hon.  Clifford  Sifton  has  put  new 
life  into  that,  and  has  done  much  to 
increase  the  number  of  European  and 
United  States  emigrants.  He  has 
kept  his  agents  active.  The  printed 
material  which  he  has  sent  out  is  at- 
tractive and  sensible.* 
But  the  Government  should  supplement 
this  work  by  some  such  offer  to  young 
Canadians  as  has  been  suggested  above. 
The  cities  will  grow  and  railways  will 
be  built  with  very  little  Government 
assistance.  What  has  been  done  for 
the  cities,  the  harbours,  the  canals  and 
the  railways  in  the  past  was  necessary 
in  many  cases.  But  for  the  future,  we 
must    get   the    people    on    the   land. 

'This  material,  the  Superintendent  of  Immi- 
gration  infonns  me,  i>  distributed  only  in 
Europe  and  the  Uniied  Slates,  not  in  Canada. 



Nearly  a  million  young  Canadians  have 
gone  to  the  United  States  during  the 
last  forty  years.  Probably  half  orthese 
could  have  been  induced  to  settle  on 
the  lands  of  Northern  Ontario,  Mani- 
toba, the  Territories  and  British  (Col- 
umbia, if  the  Government  had  paid  their 
transport  thither,  or  had  assisted  them 
by  loaning  them  capital.  They  have 
offered  each  settler  i6o  acres  of  land 
at  a  cost  of  about  $20.  They  have 
found  that  offer  was  insufficient,  yet 
they  have  never  increased  it.  In  the 
case  of  foreign  immigrants,  the  Gov- 
ernment spends  some  money  on  them 
and  allows  them  to  bring  in  thetr 
household  effects,  implements,  and  a 
certdn  number  of  horses,  cattle  sheep 
and  swine  without  paying  the  usual  20 
per  cent,  duty  on  these  animals.  But 
□o  corresponding  advantage  is  off^ered 
to  settlers  from  Nova  Scotia,  Ontario 
and  Quebec.  Supposing  a  settler  from 
Dakota  desires  to  cross  the  line  into 
Manitoba,  and  has  $600  worth  of  effects 
and  cattle,  the  Government  relinquishes 
$120  of  revenue.  Why  not  give  a  set- 
tler from  the  Eastern  Provinces  free 
transportation,  or  some  equal  advan- 


In  the  Senate  on  April  26  there  was 
a  discussion  of  this  subject,  led  by 
Senator  Perley,  a  former  resident  of 
the  Maritime  Provinces,  but  now  of 
the  Northwest  Speaking  of  the  new 
immigrants  the  honourable  gentleman 
said ; — 

"Many  of  them  are  an  undesirable  class  of 
people.  The  Galicians  cost  the  country  a 
considerable  sum  to  get  them  liere  and  to 
keep  them  after  they  came.  They  have  a  very 
degraded  idea  of  humanity  and  Christianity. 
They  are  a  class  of  people  who  believe  thai  a 
man  may  kill  his  wife  if  she  does  not  happen 
to  suit  him,  and  two  of  these  men  are  now 
under  sentence  of  death  for  murder  in  Mani- 
toba  That  is  a  very  undesirable  class 

of  people  to  bring;  into  the  Northwest,  while 
we  are  allowing  the  young  men  of  our  coun- 
try I  >  go  to  the  United  Slates.  I  undereUnd 
that  (he  Doukhobors  are  not  a  very  desirable 
class  either.  I  had  a  conversation  on  my  way 
down  here  with  His  Grace  Ihe  ArchWshop  of 
St.  Boniface,  and  ....  he  said  thai  these 
were  a  very  undesirable  class — people  that  he 
did  not  think  it  advisable  to  bring  into  this 
.country [  therefore  think,  under  the 

circumstances,  that  the  Govemmeat  ought  to 
take  steps  to  divert  Ilie  exodus  from  the  Mari- 
time Provinces,  which  is  now  Rowing  10  Ihe 
United  States,  to  our  own  Northwest,  which 
is  one  of  the  finest  countries  for  young  men, 
particularly  young  Canadians,  to  settle  in.  The 
Government  should  take  some  steps  lo  adver- 
tise the  Northwest  more  largely  in  the  Mari- 
time Provinces.  I  know  that  It  is  not  Ihe 
policy  of  the  Government  to  encourage  people 
to  leave  one  part  of  Canada  to  settle  in  an- 
other, but  they  would  l>e  justilied  in  taking 
such  means  as  might  be  necessary  to  influence 
young  men,  by  griving  them  cheaper  railroad 
rales,  or  even  free  transportation,  or  making 
some  advances  to  them,  to  enable  them  to  go 
to  the  Northwest  Territories  instead  of  to  Ihe 

United  States They  would  be  doing  a 

good  work,  and  would  make  more  money  for 
the  country  apart  from  keeping  a  valuable 
population  in  our  country." 

This,  it  appears  to  me,  is  a  very  sane 
presentation  of  the  subject,  and  is  in 
marked  contrast  with  the  extremeviews 
of  the  subject  presented  by  the  party 
journalists.  The  Hon.  Mr.  Boulton 
added  that  the  junior  member  from 
Halifax  informed  him  that,  in  coming 
up  from  that  city,  there  were  on  the 
same  train  with  him  one  hundred  and 
twenty  people  going  to  the  United 
States.  The  Hon.  Mr.  Mills,  leader  of 
the  Senate,  defended  the  Government's 
policy  with  regard  to  European  immi- 
gration, and  defended  the  statement  in 
the  speech  from  the  throne  that  the 
exodus  had  almost  ceased.  His  argu- 
ments were  not  quite  conclusive,  al- 
though every  person  will  admit  that 
the  exodus  was  never  smaller  than  at 
present.  He  predicted  that  in  a  few 
years  the  objectionable  Europeans 
would  be  enthusiastic,  loyal  and  pros- 
perous Canadians,  and  quoted  in  sup- 
port of  his  statement  the  experience  of 
the  United  States. 

Admitting  that  these  Europeans  can 
be  made  into  respectable  citizens,  that 
they  are  settling  in  districts  which  or- 
dinary citizens  would  not  caie  to  oc- 
cupy, and  that  the  exodus  of  young 
Canadians  is  decreasing,  much  remains 
to  be  done.  We  cannot  afford  to  lose 
a  single  citizen.  If  a  slight  change  in 
the  Government's  policy  would  induce 
the  surplus  population  of  the  east  to 
go  to  the  west  the   change  would  be 

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justified.  The  natural  increase  of  our 
people  in  the  east  will  always  supply 
a  certain  number  of  wanderers.  The 
establishment  of  bureaus  of  informa- 
tion here  and  there  throughout  the 
older  provinces,  the  dissemination  of 
what  is  commonly  known  as  "  immi* 
^ration  literature,"  and  the  offer  of  free 
transportation,  or  temporary  loans, 
would  induce  manyyoung  men  to  settle 
upon  the  vacant  lands  of  the  west,  who 
otherwise  will  drift  into  the  overcrowd- 
ed professions  or  across  the  boundary 

The  east  needs  more  population 
also,  but  the  east  must  wait  until  the 
wanderers  cease  from  wandering.  In 
the  meantime  the  wanderers  should  be 
looked  after  and  told  that  if  they  must 
migrate  that  the  Northwest  should  be 
their  destination. 

Perhaps  it  would  be  as  well  to  close 
the  universities  and  medical  colleges  of 
the  east  for  a  few  years  in  order  that 
we  may  get  more  brainy  farmers  for 
both  the  east  and  the  west.  This 
would  be  an  immense  benefit  to  the 
whole  country.  Our  high  schools  and 
our  universities,  as  they  are  run  at 
present,  are  detrimental  to  the  best  in- 
terests of  agriculture  and  commerce. 
Let  us  give  the  professors  a  five-year 
vacation  and  by  that  time  we  will  have 
better  farmers  and  better  business  men. 

Mrs.  Fitzgibbon,  a  step-daughter  ot 
the  late  D'Alton  McCarthy,  has  made 
a  valuable  suggestion  in  the  London 
Times.  She  proposes  that  the  "sur- 
plus "  British  women  of  the  better 
classes  be  trained  in  dairying  and  agri- 
culture at  an  institution  established  by 
the  Canadian  Government  for  that  pur- 
pose. The  Times  says  that  there  are 
a  million  and  a  quarter  "surplus" 
women  in  England,  and  believes  that 
much  can  be  said  in  favour  of  a  scheme 
to  train  some  of  these  and  establish 
them  in  the  Northwest. 

Let  them  come  by  all  means,  and  let 

them  be  trained  as  farmers  or  as  farm- 
ers'wives — whichever  they  may  choose. 
But  why  not  have  a  similar  scheme  for 
training  the  "  surplus  "  men  of  Eng- 
land 7  We  want  agriculturists,  not 
mere  labourers — men  with  intelligence 
and  knowledge  ;  and  we  need  trained 
men  just  as  much  as  we  need  trained 

The  most  striking  feature  of  recent 
developments  of  governmental  policy 
is  the  announcement  of  the  Minister 
of  Finance  that  the  expenditure  during 
the  coming  year  will  be  increased,  and 
will  probably  be  about  fifty  millions. 
This  is  not  the  kind  of  policy  that  was 
expected  of  a  Government  which  when 
it  was  in  Opposition  declared  that  an 
expenditure  of  forty  millions  was  rank 
extravagance.  The  party  must  have 
been  wrong  then,  or  it  is  wrong  now. 
I  incline  to  the  opinion  that  it  was 
wrong  when  it  was  in  Opposition,  and 
that  the  proposed  increase  in  expend- 
iture has  some  justification.  Still  it 
cannot  be  fully  justified,  and  some  of 
the  Opposition  criticism  is  well  founded. 

Vet  Canada  is  wonderfully  conserv- 
ative as  compared  with  the  Australasian 
Colonies.  Including  New  Zealand, 
their  total  population  is  4,500,000, 
fully  a  million  less  than  that  of  Canada. 
Their  governmental  revenue  is  $150,- 
000,000,  as  compared  with  our  $40,- 
000,000  ;  even  if  we  added  to  our  fed- 
eral revenues  that  of  all  the  provinces 
it  would  not  total  over  $50,000,000. 
The  public  debt  of  all  these  Austral- 
asian  Colonies  is  slightly  over  a  billion 
of  dollars,  or  nearly  four  times  our  net 
federal  public  debt,  and  more  than 
three  times  that  of  the  Dominion  and 
Provinces  combined.  The  total  gross 
debt  of  the  Dominion  and  the  Provinces 
is  just  about  four  hundred  millions  ;  and 
the  assets  are  about  one  hundred  mil- 
lions. Australia  has  $65,000,000  in  the 
savings  banks  ;  Canada  has  about  the 
same  amount.  In  addition,  we  have 
deposits  in  the  chartered  banks  to  the 
extent  of  over  two  hundred  millions. 

John  A.   Cooper.  ' 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 


THE  developmeat  of  our  country  is 
well  chronicled  and  admirably 
gauged  by  the  various  writers  in  the 
fifth  volume  of  "  Canadian  Encyclo- 
psedia."*  It  is  divided  into  seven  sec- 
tion;;, an  enumeration  of  which  may 
b*  permissible : — 

I.   Agricultural  Resources  and  Devel- 

z.   Literature  and  Journalism. 

3.  Our  Chief  Cities. 

4.  Financial  History,  Loan  Com- 
panies and  Insurance. 

5.  Natural  History. 

6.  Constitutional  History  and  Devel* 

7.  Industrial  Development,  Forests 
and  Fisheries. 

There  is  the  same  overlapping  in  the 
articles,  the  same  incoherency  in  the 
arrangement  of  the  minor  parts,  and 
the  same  carelessness  of  details  as  in 
the  previous  volumes.  As  an  example 
of  the  overlapping  we  find  in  Section 
II.  the  three  following  papers  :  "  His- 
torical Sketch  of  Canadian  Journal- 
ism," "Character  and  Position  of  the 
Canadian  Press,"  and  "A  Review  of 
Canadian  Journalism."  These  three 
papers  could  have  been  cut  down  to 
two  with  a  great  saving  of  words  and 
time.  As  an  example  of  incoherency  ; 
Sir  Charles  Tupper  writes  of  the  origin 
of  Confederation,  and  Senator  Macdon- 
ald  of  the  Confederation  movement  in 
Prince  Edward  Island,  but  there  is  no 
mention  of  the  Confederation  move- 
ment in  the  other  provinces.  As  to 
carelessness  of  details,  one  example 
must  suffice  :  On  the  first  page  of  the 
volume  under  review  appears  the  ex- 
pression "couriers  de  bois,"  while  in 

*  Toronto :  Th«  IJascott  Publishing-  Co. 

Vol.  I.,  p.  50,  it  reads  " coureurs-du- 
bois."  Both  of  these  are,  to  say  the 
least,  unusual. 

But  aside  from  these  minor  points, 
the  volume  is  very  creditable  indeed, 
and  the  various  writers  who  have  con- 
tributed are  to  be  congratulated  upon 
the  excellence  of  their  work.  Each 
article  evidences  a  special  knowledge 
on  the  part  of  its  author,  and  through 
all  run  the  patriotic  fervour  and  the 
buoyant  spirit  which  are  at  present  so 
profoundly  stirring  all  parts  of  our  coun- 
try. There  is  a  joyfulness  over  what 
we  have  done,  and  a  hopefulness  over 
what  we  are  doing,  which  assure  for 
Canada  a  future  standing  of  no  mean 
cxcelleoce  amongst  the  nations  of  the 
world.  It  strikes  me  that,  however 
imperfect  Mr.  Hopkins'  volumes  may 
be  from  one  point  of  view,  he  has  done 
a  grand  work  in  presenting  Canada  as 
an  entity  to  Canadians  who  may  not 
previously  have  recognized  her  as  such. 
As  Sir  Alexander  Lacoste  says  in  his 
introduction  to  this  volume  :  "  May  it 
serve  the  double  purpose  of  increasing 
the  respect  for  Canada  abroad  and  ce- 
menting the  spirit  of  union  and  har- 
mony amongst  us  at  home." 

There  is  no  mention  of  this  being 
the  last  volume  of  the  Encyclopaedia, 
and  there  is  a  rumour  that  the  sixth  is 
under  way.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  Mr. 
Hopkins  is  not  trying  to  make  this  work 
like  unto  Tennyson's  brook. 

It  may  safely  be  said  that  the  book 
of  the  month  in  Canada  has  been 
"David  Harum."  It  has  been  cun- 
ningly advertised  and  well  placed  be- 
fore the  public.  I  am  not  surprised  at 
its    popularity — I  suppose  I  wouldn't 


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be  expected  to  confess  the  fact,  if  I 
were — because  the  book  has  a  homely 
humour  which  is  irresistible,  and  be- 
cause we  take  a  delight  ia  listenin|f  to 
a  man  who  knocks  down  orthodoxy 
aod  conventionality.  When  David 
bested  the  Deacon  in  a  horse  trade,  the 
whole  continent  laug;hs,  because  it 
knows  the  weaknesses  of  deacons  and 
such.  When  he  buys  ahorse  from  the 
professing  Christian  on  a  Sunday, 
people  chuckle  because  they  know  the 
degree  of  genuineness  of  the  average 
modern  Christian.  David  says  some 
very  old  things  in  a  new,  bright  way. 
But  to  class  "David  Harum"  as  a 
literary  production  of  first  rank  is  to 
strain  the  imagination.  As  a  novel,  it 
is  poor  in  plot,  uneven  and  jolty  in 
treatment.  As  a  character,  David 
is  a  creation — and  that  is  all  that  can 
justly  be  said  in  praise  of  Mr.  West- 
cott's  book. 

"A  Double  Thread,"*  by  Ellen 
Thornycroft  Fowler,  the  author  of 
"Concerning  Isabel  Camaby,"  is  a 
splendid  book.  The  dialogue  is  clever ; 
and  the  plot,  while  not  entirely  new,  is 
cleverly  handled.  .The  author  is  the 
daughter  of  Sir  Henry  Fowler,  late 
Secretary  of  State  for  India.  Her 
previous  book  was  quite  popular  be- 
cause of  hef  treatment  of  the  noncon- 
formist religionists  of  England,  and 
because  of  its  spirited  style.  This 
story  is  just  as  spirited  in  the  telling 
and  less  controversial  in  its  handling  of 
religious  themes.  Captain  Le  Mesu- 
rier  falls  in  love  with  a  modest  govern- 
ness  named  Ethel  Harland,  who  hy  the 
va£-ary  of  a  deceased  grandfather  is 
kept  poor  while  her  twin  sister  revels 
in  luxury.  The  captain  knows  the  rich 
sister  also,  and  tries  to  effect  a  closer 
friendship  between  the  two  sisters. 
The  rich  giri  refuses  to  see  or  assist 
her  unfortunate  sister  with  whom  the 
captain  is  in  love.  The  rich  sister  la 
the  meantime  endeavours  to  win  his 
regfard,  and  in  her  efforts  is  ably  as- 
sisted by  the  captain's  bachelor  uncle 
who  promises  him  a  large  estate  if  he 
•Toronto:     William  Brigrgs. 

will  marry  the  rich  instead  of  the  poor 
sister.  But  the  captain  being  a  simple- 
minded  but  whole-souled  chap  is  faith- 
ful. Suddenly  comes  the  discovery 
that  the  two  sisters  are  one,  that  Elfri- 
da  Harland  the  heiress  has  been  mas- 
querading as  the  poor  sister  to  test  her 
lover's  faithfulness.  Alas,  the  discovery 
disenchants  the  lover  and  he  refuses  to 
marry  the  heiress  who  has  thus  toyed 
with  his  affections  ;  and  who  can  blame 
him  P  It  is  unwise  to  test  love  and 
friendship  unnecessarily. 

These  were  their  last  words  together 
— for  a  long  time  : 

"  But,  Jack  dear,  I  love  you  so." 

"You  love  me,  and  yet  you  made  a 
fool  of  me!  No,  Miss  Harland,  I  can- 
not believe  in  such  love  as  that." 

"  I  only  did  it  to  make  sure  of  you. 
Can't  you  understand  how  sick  I  was 
of  shadows,  and  how  I  wanted  to  find 
one  true  heart  ?  " 

"  And  so,  having  found  it,  you  broke 
it  to  see  if  it  was  breakable.  Well,-  it 
was. " 

"Then  must  everything  be  at  an 
end  between  usP"  Elfrida  pleaded; 
"surely,  surely  you  cannot  mean  that!" 

"  But  I  do  mean  it.  Don't  you  see 
that  now  you  have  once  deceived  me  1 
can  never  trust  you  again  ?  And  love 
without  trust  is  impossible."     . 

This  dialogue  explains  the  point  on 
which  the  story  turns,  but  it  is  not  an 
example  of  Miss  Fowler's  best  style. 
She  is  seldom  sorrowful  or  dramatic  ; 
she  is  rather  of  a  humorous  turn  with 
a  lively  appreciation  of  the  best  that  is 
in  life.  Many  of  her  remarks  and  re- 
flections are  worth  remembering  : 

"As  long  as  people  are  civil  to  me  to 
my  face,  I  don't  care  what  they  say  be- 
hind my  back ;  our  faces  are  our  own 
but  our  hacks  are  our  neighbours'." 

"Englishwomen  hide  their  feelings 
as  carefully  as  they  hide  their  garters.  " 
"Spoiling  a  pretty  quarrel  is  on  a  par, 
to  my  mind,  with  shooting  a  fox." 

"The  intelligent  woman  combines 
the  respectable  dulness  of  a  Church 
Congress,  with  the  mental  fatigue  of  a 
mathematical  tripos,  and  yet  never 
loses  the  lynx-eyed  exactingness  of  the 
unattractive  woman." 

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1 93 


Another  strong  novel  isConan  Doyle's 
latest  production  entitled  ' '  A  Duet  with 
an  Occasional  Chorus."*  The  one 
point  at  which  it  is  vulnerable  is  where 
he  introduces  a  scarlet  woman  in  order, 
apparently,  to  make  a  contrast  between 
her  and  the  young  wife  of  Francis 
Crosse.  Surely  it  is  possible  to  show 
the  excellence  of  virtue  without  com- 
paring it  with  vice,  and  to  picture  the 
sweetness  and  pure-mindedness  of  an 
innocent  wife  without  comparing  her 
with  a  fallen  and  profligate  person  of 
the  same  sex!  It  is  reported  that  a 
firm  of  publishers  in  New  York  refused 
the  book  because  of  this  superfluous 
character.  Mr.  Doyle  was  asked  to 
remove  her  but  declined.  If  this  be 
true,  the  publishers  of  New  York  have 
amongst  them  the  one  or  two  righteous 
men  who  may  save  Sodom.  This  wo- 
man is  but  a  minor  feature,  however, 
in  a  rather  sweet  tale  of  courtship  and 
early  marital  bliss.  The  arrival  of  the 
important  person  who  makes  the  duet 
a  trio  is  cleverly  handled,  with  that 
mingling  of  humour  and  pathos  of 
which  only  the  greater  novelists  and 
orators  are  masters.  The  description 
of  this  arrival  ends  thus: 

"So  Frank  went  down  inlo  the  darkening 
room  below,  and  mechanically  lighting  his 
pipe,  he  sal  with  his  elbows  on  his  knees  and 
stared  out  into  the  galhering  gloom  where 
one  brig-ht  evening  star  twinkled  in  a  violet 
sky.  The  g^enlle  hush  of  the  gloaming  was 
around  him,  and  some  late  bird  was  calling 
outside  amongst  the  laurels.  Above  he  heard 
the  shuffling  of  feet,  the  murmur  of  voices, 
and  then  amid  it  all  [hose  thin  glutinous  cries, 
All  voice,  the  voice  of  this  new  man  with  all 
a  man's  possibilities  for  good  and  for  evil, 
who  had  taken  up  his  dwelling  with  them,  and 
as  he  listened  to  (hose  cries,  a  gentle  sadness 
was  mixed  with  his  joy,  for  he  felt  that  thins;^ 
were  now  forever  changed — that  whatever 
sweet  harmonies  of  life  might  still  be  await- 
ing him  from  this  hour  onwards,  they  might 
form  themselves  into  the  loveliest  of  chords, 
but  it  must  always  be  as  a  trio,  and  never  as 
the  dear  duet  of  the  past." 

W.  D.  Howells  has  allowed  the 
gentle  stream  of  his  genius  to  run  into 
another  novel,  A  young  girl,  ragged 
but  beautiful,  takes  the  fancy  of  a  rich 
old  lady,  who  adopts    her,  takes    her 

"Toronto:  George  N.  Morang. 

abroad,  and  at  her  death  leaves  her 
older  but  still  "  ragged  and  beautiful." 
As  a  novel,  ' '  Ragged  Lady  "*  is  a  strik- 
ing piece  of  work,  bearing  to  the  other 
current  novels  the  same  relation  as  a 
steel  engraving  bears  to  a  strong  litho- 
graph. Because  of  this  excellence,  it 
will  appeal  only  to  those  who  can  ap- 
preciate mezzo-tints  and  that  softness 
and  gentleness  of  detailed  delineation 
which  marks  that  school  of  novelists 
who  place  art  first.  The  Canadian 
edition  is  sold  at  a  lower  price  than  the 
United  States  edition,  but  contains  all 
the  illustrations  and  is  a  most  credit- 
able production. 

Beatrice  Harraden  has  taken  for  the 
title  of  her  latest  story, t  the  words, 
"Our  Soul  is  escaped  even  as  a  Bird 
out  of  the  Snare  of  the  Fowler."  The 
Bird  is  Nora  Penhurst,  a  bright,  young 
classical  teacher,  and  the  Fowler  is  a 
small,  heartless  man,  who  tries  to  tame 
her,  subdue  her  mental  powers,  and 
make  her  his  slave.  The  story  of  the 
struggle  and  the  final  triumph  of  love 
and  nature  is  the  story  which  Miss 
Harraden  tells.  "The  Fowler"  is  a 
curious  book,  almost  as  curious  as 
"Ships  that  Pass  in  The  Night"; 
and  it  is  difficult  to  form  an  estimate 
of  it.  Perhaps  it  is  best  not  to  try,  but 
simply  to  say  that  it  is  curious — unique 
—eccentric,  a  book  which  may  be  read 
and  wondered  over.  Its  lesson  is  elu- 
sive, but  there  is  no  doubt  it  has  one. 
To  different  readers  the  lesson  may  be 

The  love  of  country  is  the  root  of 
much  that  is  good,  and  Rev.  W.  J. 
Mackenzie,  Rector  of  Chippawa,  has 
shown  that  his  love  for  Canada  has  not 
dimmed  his  appreciation  of  his  mother- 
land. His  volume,  entitled  "  Scot- 
land's Share  in  Civilizing  the  World,"t 
is  a  collection  of  lectures  delivered  be- 

•Toronto  :  The  W.  J.  Gage  Co. 

t  The  Fowler,  by  Beatrice  Harraden,  Tor- 
onto :  The  Copp,  Clark  Co. 

J  Toronto:  The  Fleming  H.  Revell  Co. 
Cloth,  $i,oo. 

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fore  Scotchmen  in  various  parts  of  Ca- 
nada. In  its  two  hundred  pai^es  this 
eathunastic  cler^^man  has  mentioned 
every  one  of  Scotland's  hemes  in  bat- 
tle, in  politics,  in  literature,  in  science, 
in  discovery,  in  invention,  in  fine  arts, 
in  manufacturing'  and  in  finance,  and 
^ven  concerning  each  many  interest- 
ing details. 

"  The  Story  of  the  Cowboy,'"  by  E. 
Hough,  is  not  a  piece  of  fiction,  but  an 
interesting  account  of  the  cattle  trade 
of  the  Western  States.  Much  of  the 
everyday  conception  of  the  "cow-punch- 
er" is  snipped  off  as  one  reads  this 
sane  and  truthful  description  of  the  life, 
work  and  history  of  the  cattle-men  who 
were,  to  a  great  extent,  the  pioneers  of 
Western  North  America. 

inside  history  of  the  relations  existing 
between  Kipling  and  Clemens  the 

Some  time  ago  there  was  published 
an  illustrated  volume  entitled  "The 
Origin  and  Services  of  the  3rd  (Mon- 
treal) Field  Battery  of  Artillery."  The 
author  is  Captain  Ernest  J.  Chambers, 
a  well-known  writer  and  journalist,  and 
the  publisher  is  E.  L.  Ruddy,  of  Mon- 
treal. The  book  is  a  credit  to  both, 
the  letterpress  and  binding  being  ot 
an  artistic — one  might  almost  say  aris- 
tocratic— nature.  This  corps  of  artil- 
lery was  on  service  during  the  Fenian 
Raid,  and  both  before  and  after  that 
date  was  called  upon  to  aid  the  civil 
power  in  repressing  civic  disorders. 
Its  history  is  interesting  reading. 

Any  Canadian  desiring  to  read  the 
latest  popular  science  series  published 
in  French  may  secure  twelve  volumes 
of  "  Les  Livres  d'Or  de  la  Science,'* 
by  sending  twelve  francs  to  Schleicher 
FrSvrs,  15  Rue  des  Saints  Peres,  Paris. 
Among  the  volumes  ready  are  :  La 
Panorama  des  Si^cles  (historical) ;  Les 
Races  Jannes  :  Les  Celestes  (ethnologi- 
cal) ;  La  Photographie  de  I'lnvisible, 
les  Rayons  X. ;  Histoire  et  rdle  du  Boeuf 
dans  la  Civilisation  ;  La  Pr^histoire  de 
la  France  ;  Les  Microbes  et  la  Mort 
(medical);  Les  Feux  et  les  Eaux  (scien- 
tific). The  volumes  are  small  but  well 
illustrated  and  have  been  compiled  by 


"A  Ken  of  Kipling,"!  by  Will  M. 
Clemens,  is  said  to  have  met  with 
some  disfavour  in  the  eyes  of  the  great 
author,  who  is  averse  to  any  revelation 
of  his  private  life.  In  spite  of  this,  the 
book  is  charming  reading,  and  gives 
considerable  information  concerning 
Mr.  Kipling — his  early  journalistic  life, 
his  religion,  the  purpose  of  his  poems, 
anecdotes,  etc.  The  writer  of  this 
volume  is  a  brother  of  Mark  Twain, 
aod  consequently  is  able  to  give  some 

George  N.  Morang  &  Co.,  Toronto, 
have  just  issued  two  striking  volumes 
by  two  Englishmen  :  "The  United 
States  of  Europe  on  the  Eve  of  the 
Parliament  of  Peace,"  with  nine  maps 
and  one  hundred  illustrations,  by  Wil- 
liam T.  Stead,  and  "The  Amateur 
Cracksman,"  a  collection  of  short 
stories,  by  E.  W,  Hornung.  The  for- 
mer volume  will,  undoubtedly,  be  as 
much,  talked  of  as  any  of  the  author's 
other  sensational  books.  One  signifi- 
cant feature  is  the  fact  that  the  frontis- 
piece is  a  picture  of  the  Czar,  while 
there  is  no  portrait  of  the  Queen  or  the 
Prince  of  Wales  in  the  book.  AH  the 
other  European  royalties  are  present. 

The  Wentworth  County  (Ont.)  His- 
torical Society  has  published  its  second 
volume  of  transactions.  Among  the 
papers  are  the  following  :  The  Six  Na- 
tions Indians  in  the  Province  of  Ontario, 
by  J.  O.  Brant-Sero  ;  Documents  Re- 
lating to  the  Battle  of  Stony  Creek  ; 
A  Century  of  Achievement,  by  James 
H.  Coyne  ;  Niagara  on  the  Canadian 
Shore,  by  the  Rev.  E.  J.  Fessenden ; 
King  William's  War,  by  Miss  FiuGib- 
bon.  In  addition  there  are  many  minor 
articles  dealing  with  the  local  history 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 


of  the  sectioa.    The  sMret&ry's  address 
is  J.  A.  Griffin,  Hamiltoa,  Oat. 

Captain  Peter  Russell  came  to  Upper 
Canada  in  1793,  was  appointed  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Executive  Council,  and  in 
1796  administrator  of  the  Province  in 
the  absence  of  Governor  Simcoe.  He 
Hi'terwards  filled  the  position  of  Re- 
ceiver-General, and  died  at  York  in 
1808.  He  was  in  the  expedition  sent 
against  Charleston  in  1779-80,  and 
kept  a  diary.  Part  of  this  has  been 
preserved  and  is  now  published  in  the 
American  Historical  Review,  in  the 
form  of  a  contribution  from  Jas.  Bain, 
jr.,  public  librarian  at  Toronto,  in 
whose  possession  is  the  original  docu- 


The  Bain  Book  and  Stationery  Co., 
of  Toronto,  have  secured  a  few  copies 
of  the  1884  edition  of  "Old  Spooke's 
Pass,"  a  collection  of  poems  by  Isa- 
bella Valancy  Crawford,  and  issued 
them  in  a  new  binding.  This  is  one 
of  the  few  volumes  of  Canadian  verse 
which  are  worth  preserving. 

T.  Fisher  Unwin,  of  London,  Eng., 
has  issued  a  very  handsome  volume  on 
"  Piers  Gaveston,"  by  Walter  Phelps 
Dodge.  This  book  gives  a  clear  pic- 
ture of  the  constitutional  development 
in  the  days  of  Edward  I.  and  Edward 
II.,  besides  giving  a  new  estimate  of 
the  character  of  this  noted  figure  in 
English  history.  Piers  Gaveston  was 
the  son  of  a  Gascon  knight,  a  friend 
and  faithful  follower  of  Edward  I. 
He  was  a  favourite  companion  of 
Edward  II.,  when  he  was  known  as 
the  first  Prince  of  Wales,  and  when 
Edward  became  king  he  became  the 
king's  prime  favourite.  His  desire  for 
absolute  power  for  himself  and  his 
monarch  finally  led  to  his  destruction 
at  the  hands  of  the  jealous  nobles. 

The  Vir  Publishing  Company,  of 
Philadelphia,  for  whom  William  Briggs 
is  Canadian  ^ent,  are  publishing  a 
Self  and  Six  series.  The.  books  for 
women  are  written  by  Mrs.  Mary 
Wood-Allen,  M.D.,  and  the  first  is  en- 
titled, "  What  a  Young  Girl  Ought  to 
Know. " 

The  Natural  History  Society,  of 
Vienna,  has  just  published  "Reisebeo- 
bachtungunen  aus  Canada  "  (geologi- 
cal observations),  by  Albrecht  Penck, 
who  visited  Canada  with  the  British 
Association,  in  1897.  This  scholar 
has  also  written  a  monograph  on  the 
lUecillewaet  Glacier  in  ^e  Selkirks. 
From  his  observations  and  from  that 
of  many  persons  who  have  seen  both 
the  Alps  and  the  Rockies,  one  is  almost 
forced  to  the  conclusion  that  the  beau- 
tiful Rockies  will  one  day  be  as  much 
a  world-resort  as  the  Alps. 

The  Neuchatel  Geographical  Society 
(Neuchatel,  Switzerland),  has  published 
its  eleventh  volume.  It  contains  an 
elaborate  monograph  with  plates  and 
illustrations  on  the  geological  forma- 
tions of  "  Les  Pr&lpes  Romandes." 
Any  person  interested  in  geology  will 
find  this  a  valuable  volume.  The  lan- 
guage used  is  the  French. 

The  six  books  which  have  sold  best 
in  the  order  of  demand  ^he  past  month, 
according  to  the  Bain  Book  and  Sta- 
tionery Co.,  Toronto,  are  : — 

1.  David  Harum,  by  Westcott.  , 

2.  Prisoners  and  Captives,  by  Mer- 

3.  The   Eye   of  a   God,  by  W.  A*  I 
Eraser.  I 

4.  Mr.  Dooley  in  Peace  and'  War, 
by  Dunne. 

5.  A  Duet  with  an  Occasional  Cho- 
rus, by  Conan  Doyle. 

6.  The  Garden  of  Swords,  by  Max 

Digitized  byGoOgIc 



'■  "T^HIS  here  cook  I'm  s peak! n' about 
*■  is  a  plumb  humorous  old  party. 
"Which  it's  the  spring  round-up, 
an'  along  about  noon  we're  spilled  on 
the  banks  o'  the  Saiot  Mary's  for 
chuck.  When  we're  throug;h,  old 
Bunch  Grass — that's  the  cook — packs 
up  the  outfit,  for  we  moves  camp  this 
afternoon  along  up  stream.  I've  rolled 
a  cigarette,  an'  I  steps  up  to  the  cook 

"  'Got  a  match,  Bunch?' 

"  The  old  man's  fing'ers  goes  for  his 
vest  pocket,  but  he  pauses  an'  looks 
thoughtful  a  minute.  Then  he  climbs 
to  the  top  o'  the  chuck-waggon  an' 
starts  in  to  pitch  off  his  load.  Beddin', 
tents,  grub,  kettles — ^ails  out  on  to 
the  grass.  I'm  plumb  amazed,  an'  I 
looks  at  him  for  five  minutes  like  a 
locoed  steer.     I  takes  it  he  goes  crazy. 

"  '  Why,  whatever  be  you  a-doin'?' 
says  I  at  last.  '  What's  the  matter  of 

"He  stops,  aims  an  amber  stream 
at  a  fly  on  the  wheel  an'  then  says  with 
a  slow  drawl : 

"'Which  it's  like  this,'  says  this 
Bunch  Grass  party.  'When  you  re- 
quests that  match,  I  suddenly  happens 
to  recall  that  them  combustibles  alius 
lurks  in  the  last  pocket.  I  got  a  coat 
an'  waistcoat  in  the  bottom  o'  this 
wagrgon,  an'  I  reaches  down  for  that 
last  pocket  first  an'  saved  time.'" 

' '  I  took   a  two-dollar  chance  on  a 
little  bit  of  a  buzzard-head,  not  higher 
than  that  stone,  rafBed  for  thirty  dol- 
lars.    1   won  him.     It   cost    me   five 

dollars  for  drinks.  Branded  him  and 
turned  him  out  with  the  herd  Looked 
like  a  frame  with  a  hide  hung  over  iL 

"  In  the  spring  when  the  herd  came 
in  he  looked  like  a  stall-fed  steer.  I 
didn't  know  him.  He  stood  on  one 
side  of  the  corral  and  the  herd  on  the 
other.  I  thought  he'd  been  run  out. 
Just  then  he  took  a  race  across  the 
corral,  caught  my  best  mare  Jess  by 
the  neck,  and  hung  on.  I  thought 
he'd  take  a  piece. 

"Old  Tripp  was  standing  by  and 
asked  what  I'd  take  for  him. 

"  '  Thirty  dollars.' 

"Just  then  he  took  hold  of  another. 

" '  Is  that  the  lowest,'  said  old 

"  '  Twenty-five.' 

"  He  grabbed  a  third  horse  by  the 
throat,  and  I  thought  he'd  have  his 

"  '  Take  him  for  twenty,'  1  said.  1 
was  in  a  hurry  to  sell  him. 

"  We  traded.  The  pony  had  cowed 
the  herd,  and  old  man  Tripp  had  to 
build  a  separate  pasture  for  him." 


"This  was  down  near  the  Cypress 
Hills,  when  old  Sitttn'  Bull  made  that 
region  his  stampin'-ground. 

*'  Two  of  his  band  'jumped '  us  ene 
day  while  we  were  out  hoss-huntin'. 
They  had  Winchesters  and  cut  loose. 

"  Kid  Price's  boss  was  nothin'  but  a 
cayuse  ;  still,  he  wasn't  quite  so  bad  as 
the  Sioux  ponies.  They  came  after  us 
a-whoopin'  and  throwin'  the  lead  our 
way.  1  left  Price  in  a  minute,  but  I 
held  my  hoss  in  and  kept  lookin'  back. 
Those  bullets  sang  an  ugly  sort  of  a 
song  ;  they  made  me  nervous. 

"  '  Come  on  1 '  I  shouted  to  the  kid. 

:y  Google 



"He  had  his  rope  doubled  and 
wound  around  his  hand,  and  he  was 
playin'  it  on  the  cayuse's  ribs,  first  one 
side  then  the  other,  as  he  leaned  low 
on  his  neck. 

"  I  rode  on  a  way.  Then  I  looked 
back  again  and  waved  with  my  hand. 

"'Come  on!'  I  yelled.  'They'll 
gel  you ! ' 

"  Kid  .straightened  himself  up  on  his 
boss.  The  rope  coQtinued  to  swing — 
*7ohack.'  whack.'' — from  side  to  side. 
He  looked  red  and  hot. 

" '  Do  1  look  as  if  I  was  tryJD*  to 
throw  this  race,'  he  inquired. 

"  In  another  five  minutes  we  sighted 
Port  Walsh,  and  the  chase  was  over." 


Cowboy:  "This  here's  a  sleeping- 
car,  ain't  it?" 

Porter:   "Yes,  sab." 

Cowboy :  "  Well,  why  in  thunder 
don't  you  let  people  sleep,  then,  when 
they've  paid  and  gone  into  your  game  P 
If  you're  aiming  to  keep  folks  awake, 
and  want  company,  just  dance  into  the 
next  car  ;  there's  lots  of  folks  there 
that  don't  want  to  sleep,  nohow,  and 
'II  be  glad  to  see  you." 

"Come  a-running."  (Porter  comes 
and  cowboy  hands  him  a  pillow  the  size 
of  a  pincushion.)  "Take  that  goose- 
hair  thing  away." 

"  Don't  you  want  a  pillow,  sab  ?  " 

"That  ain't  no  pillow,  and  I  don't 

want  it,  nohow  ;  I'm  afraid  it  'II  get  in 

"  Hold  on,  there,  my  son — just  drop' 
them  boots  1 " 

"  I's  only  gwine  to  black  dem,  sah." 

"Drop  'em," 

"Just  gwine — " 

"Just  going  to  pull  them  spurs,  I 
reckon.  Now,  don't  monkey  around 
my  camp,  takin'  things,  no  more.  If 
you  want  anything,  speak  for  it.  If 
you  can't  speak,  make  signs ;  and  if 
you  can't  make  signs,,  shake  a  bush. 
You  hear  me  ?  " 

"Yes,  sah." 

Bleasdell  Cameron. 


Lady  making  inquiries  as  to  maid's 
character — "  Did  you  find  her  honest?" 

Former  Mistress— "  Honest!  She 
never  took  even  an  order  from  me  I " 

"Did  you  water  the  ferns  in  the 
drawing-room,  Bridget?" 

"Ves,  Mum.  Don't  ye  hear  the 
water  drippin'  on  the  carpet!" 

Mistress — "  Did  you  polish  the  mir- 
rors in  the  parlour,  as  I  told  you  before 
1  went  out,  Norah?" 

Norah — in  a  disheartened  voice — 
"Sure,  Ma'm,  I've  tried  them  with  the 
boot  brushes  ;  rubbed  them  wid  the 
stove  brushes  ;  gone  over  'em  wid  tbe 
furniture  polish,  and  niverabitof  shine 
can  I  git  on  'cm  1  faith  I  think  if  you'd 
let  me  do  them  my  own  ould-fashioned 
way — ^just  washin'  'em,  and  wipin'  'em 
dry  wid  a  rag,  they'd  be  a  ^ht 

Alice  .tshtoor/A. 



Galvanized  Steel  Wind  Mills 
Towers  and  Grinders. 

Oar  N*w  Factory— Lusc  and  WctI  Equipped. 

Send  for  Illustrated 
Catalogue  of  Wind 
Mill5.  "Maple  Leaf" 
Qrindcrs.  Iron  and 
Wood  Pumps,  Bee 
Supplies,  etc. 


A  Quiet  Home 

Cati  be  secured  in  the  very 
centre  of  the  business  part  of 
New  York  by  staying  at  the 

St  Denis  Hotel 

o[^x)site  Grace  Church.  To 
Gmadians  this  is  probably  the 
best  kno^vti  Hotel  in  the  dty. 


Btmdmr  ind  Illh  Sb^ 
EuropunPba.  NET  YCHIK. 


it  is  your  own  fault 
if  you  don*t  get  It. 

In  days  gone  by  dealers  were  able  to  sell 
people  just  what  they  pleased,  but  the 
public  of  to-day  are  inclined  to  find  out 
for  themselves  the  best  article  in  every 
line,  ahd  they  insist  upon  getting  it.         ' 

\  Grpanby  Rubbers 



are  known  throughout  the  whole  country  to  be  the  best  in  fit,  j 

finish,  quality  and  durability,  and  that  is  why  people  will  have  4 

Granby's  and  no  other.     The  extra  thickness  at  ball  and  heel  - 
makes  them  last  twice  as  long.                         ngi.zedb>Goc 



l««««/»^%%««^»«%%^  V%««*«^«'»^«'%%^%^  %'»««%^%^%^l 

*'  ^ 






Distinguished  everywhere  for 
Delicacy  of  Flavour,  Superior 
Quali^,  and  Nutritive  Proper- 
ties. Specially  grateful  and 
comforting  to  tiie  nervous  and 
dyspeptic.  Sold  only  in  i-lb. 
tins,  labelled  JAMES  EPPS  & 
CO.,  Ltd.,  HomoBopathic  Chem- 
ists, London. 





Froenn  NoiiHi.hi4,  Kolurcs.  and  Enrichn  Ihc  Hair 
more  effcclually  than  any  other  mparatioii,  PnTTOiw 
BildncM  and  Scurf,  and  i*  al»  aold  in  ■  GoMen  Colour 
for  Fair  or  Gny  Hair. 


Pnxluon  Sod.  Fair,  Delicate  Skin,  rnnoi-e.  FrecUe^ 
Tan.  Sunboin,  Kedneai.  and  EoughneM.  and  impar*-  - 
Radianl  Beaulv  la  Ilie  Comptnion  andaSoftiw™ 
Deliocj-  to  ihclIandB  and  Am,. 


Whiten,  the   Teeth,    PreveoU   Decay.  Strength™ 
Giimo.  and  Swevten  the  Breath.  SoM  bv  Storea.  CL.... 
i<ti.,  and  A.  ROWLAND  &  SONS.  (Ulum  Garten, 


Acid  Phosphate. 

The  most  effective  remedy 
for  relieving  Dyspepsia, 
Nervousness,  Exhaustion, 

and  all  diseases  arising  from 
imperfect  digestion  and  de- 
rangement of  the  nervous 

Taken  before  retiring 
Induces  refreshing  sleep. 

For  5ale  by  Druggists. 




Equally  important.    Both 
sectired  by  the 

Make  sure,  however,  that 
it  is  put  in  by  a  reliable 
firm.     __  __ 

CEOIIGE  W.  ItEED  &  CO., 

""•'"^^J'n-r""""'"  Montreal. 


Dig.zedb,  Google 





Being  the  Personal  Experiences  of  Lance-Corporal  Ellis  (tiow  Professor  Ellis, 

of  the  School  of  Practical  Science  of  Toronto)  in  the  Fenian  Raid 

Campaign  of  1866. 

four  next  morning  for  active  service  on 
the  frontier. 

When  the  morning'  came  it  was 
found  that  it  had  been  impossible  to 
warn  all  the  company  the  previous 
night,  and  I  was  detuled  to  look  up 
the  missing  ones.  We  were  too  late 
for  the  first  boat,  but  followed  by  a 
later  one  and  reached  Port  Colborne  in 
the  gray  of  the  morning,  where  we 
found  the  regiment  embarked  on  a 
freight  train,  eating  a  frugal  breakfast 
of  bread  and  red  herring,  which  we 
arrived  too  late  to  share.  Starting 
from  Port  Colborne,  we  soon  reached 
the  village  of  Ridgeway,  where  we  left 
the  train,  and  quickly  getting  into  our 
ranks,  marched  off  along  the  road  to 
Stevensville,  where  we  expected  to  join 
the  column  under  the  command  of 
Colonel  Peacock,  of  the  16th  Regi- 
ment. Our  force  consisted  of  the 
Queen's  Own,  the  r3th  Battalion  of 
Hamilton,  and  the  York  and  Caledonia 
volunteers,  in  all  about  S40  men,  under 
command  of  Lieutenant-Colonel  Book- 
er, of  the  13th. 

We  marched  along  the  Ridge  road 
for  about  two  miles,  the  Queen's  Own 
leading.  No.  5  Company  formed  the 
advance  guard.  This  company  had  just 
been  supplied  with  Spencer  repeating 
rifles.  The  rest  of  the  force  were  arm- 
ed with  muzzle-loading  En  fie  Ids.    Just 

T^HROUGHOUT  the  winter  of  1865- 
*^  66  we  in  Canada  had  heard  rum- 
ours of  an  intended  Fenian  invasion, 
and  measures  had  been  taken  to  meet 
it.  The  volunteers  were  called  out  for 
active  service.  There  were  in  Toronto 
daily  parades,  and  on  the  banks  and 
Government  buildings  sentries  were 
nightly  posted,  partly  from  the  i6th 
Regiment,  then  quartered  here,  and 
partly  from  the  Queen's  Own  and  10th, 
now  the  Royal  Grenadiers,  who  fur- 
nished a  guard  on  alternate  nights. 
No,  9  Company  of  the  Queen's  Own, 
to  which  I  belonged,  was  then  made 
up  of  undergraduates  of  the  Uni- 
versity, and  the  lecture  rooms  and  cor- 
ridors were  gay  with  uniforms.  The 
winter  passed  away,  however,  without 
any  hostile  act,  and  everyone  thought 
that  the  Fenians,  if  they  had  ever  seri- 
ously contemplated  a  raid,  had  been 
discouraged  by  the  resolute  attitude  of 
the  Canadians,  and  that  the  danger 
had  passed  ;  when,  on  the  last  day  of 
May,  the  news  that  the  enemy  were  on 
Canadian  soil  came  like  a  bolt  from  r.he 
blue.  About  eleven  o'clock  an  the 
evening'  of  that  day  I  was  reading  for 
an  examination  that  was  to  come  off  on 
the  day  following,  when  a  knock  at  my 
door  announced  the  entrance  of  a  non- 
commissioned ofhcer,  bearing  the  order 
to   parade  at  the  drill  shed  at  half-past 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 


as  we  reached  the  summit  of  a  gentle 
rise,  we  saw  the  advance  party  stand- 
ing- with  their  shakos  on  the  end  of 
their  rifles — a  signal  which  meant  "  the 
enemy  is  in  sight,  in  force." 

From  the  slight  elevation  where  we 
were  standing  we  could  see  the  road 
stretching  before  us  for  nearly  a  mile. 
Near  us  were  woods,  but  in  front,  to 
the  right  and  left  of  the  road,  were 
open  fields,  bordered  on  both  sides  and 
at  some  distance  in  front  by  woods.  It 
was  a  beautiful  day — the  trees  were 
clothed  with  the  tender,  delicate  foliage 
of  early  summer,  and  the  fields  were 
green  with  young  crops.  From  where 
we  stood  we  could  see  nothing  of  the 
enemy,  but  we  saw  the  advance  guard 
extend  from  its  centre  and  push  on  in 
skirmishing  order.  Nos.  i  and  2 
Company  were  ordered  to  move  up  and 
extend  on  their  left  and  right  flanks 
respectively,  and  Nos.  3,  4  and  6  ad- 
vanced in  support.  In  a  few  minutes 
puffs  of  smoke  from  the  skirmishers 
and  from  the  woods  and  fences  in 
front  of  them  told  that  the  action  had 

Before  long  we  heard  the  whistle  of 
bullets  in  the  air,  and  No.  7  Company 
was  extended  to  the  left  in  skirmish- 
ing order,  with  No.  8  (Trinity  Col- 
lege Company)  in  support.  This 
brought  the  University  Company  to 
the  front  of  the  column,  but  we  did  not 
long  remain  there.  We  were  marched 
off  to  the  right,  extended,  and  told  to 
lie  down  on  a  low,  pebbly  ridge,  be- 
hind which  grew  some  fine  maple  trees. 
Here  we  lay  for  a  while,  the  bullets 
singing  over  our  heads,  and  cutting  off 
branches  from  the  maple  trees.  In  a 
few  minutes  Major  Gillmor  came  up 
and  ordered  us  to  clear  the  woods  on 
the  right  from  which  these  bullets 
seemed  to  be  coming.  We  jumped  up 
and  advanced  in  skirmishing  order, 
supported  by  No.  10  Company,  the 
Highlanders,  from  whom,  however, 
we  soon  became  separated  in  the  thick 
woods,  through  which  our  course  at 
first  lay.  After  clearing  the  woods  we 
came  out  into  an  open  field.  Behind 
the  fence  on  the  other  side  of  the  field 
we  saw  some  men  kneeling,  and  puf^ 

of  smoke  showed  them  to  be  in  action. 
It  was  not  at  first  clear  whether  they 
were  friends  or  foes.  Some  of  our 
men  were  about  to  fire  on  them,  but 
Ensign  Whitney,  who  was  in  com- 
mand, called  out,  "  Don't  fire,  they 
may  be  our  own  men.  Lie  down  and 
wait  till  I  find  out."  We  lay  down  as 
directed,  and  watched  him  as  he  quiet- 
ly walked  forward  for  a  hundred  yards 
or  so.  Then  he  stopped,  took  a 
leisurely  observation  through  his  field 
glass,  and  turning  round  to  us,  called 
out,  cheerfully,  "AH  right,  boys! 
They  are  the  enemy.  Fire  away." 
We  ran  up  to  him.  Till  we  reached 
him  he  stood  watching  the  enemy,  ap- 
parently absolutely  indifferent  to  the 
bullets  that  were  whistling  round  him. 
We  then  crossed  a  road,  where  the 
Fenians  had  made  a  barricade  of  fence 
rails,  and  entered  a  field  of  young 
wheat,  studded  at  intervals  with  black 
stumps.  Here  we  could  see  no  Fenians, 
but  from  behind  fences,  and  from  the 
woods  in  front  of  us,  they  kept  up  a 
hot  fire.  Our  advance  across  this  field 
was  the  most  exciting  part  of  the  fight, 
and  was  conducted  in  this  fashion : 
having  selected  a  desirable  stump  at  a 
convenient  distance  in  front,  we  made 
a  dash  for  it  at  full  speed,  and  the 
moment  we  reached  it  we  fell  flat  on 
our  stomachs  behind  it.  This  was  the 
signal  for  a  shower  of  bullets,  some  of 
which  whistled  over  our  heads,  some 
struck  the  stump,  and  some  threw  up 
the  dust  in  the  field  beside  us.  As 
soon  as  our  opponents  had  emptied 
their  rifles,  we  fired  at  the  puffs  of 
smoke,  reloaded,  selected  another 
stump,  and  so  on,  da  capo.  In  this 
way  we  crossed  the  wheat  field  and  en- 
tered another  wood,  through  which  we 
advanced  under  cover  of  the  trees. 
Here  we  were  a  good  deal  annoyed  by 
the  fire  of  some  of  our  own  friends, 
who,  not  knowing  our  whereabouts, 
were  firing  into  the  wood  from  be- 
hind us.  Sergeant  Bryce — now  the 
Rev.  Professor  Bryce,  of  Winnipeg — 
had  taken  post  behind  a  fine,  thick 
maple  tree.  Before  long  it  became 
doubtful  which  side  of  the  tree  was  the 
safest,  and  Bryce  settled  it  by  saying, 

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"  I'd  rather  be  hit  before  than  behind," 
and  deliberately  placed  himself  in  front 
of  the  tree.  Beyond  this  wood  was  a 
recently-cleared  field,  and  beyond  that 
another  wood  in  which  we  could  plain- 
ly see  the  Fenians,  We  had  begun  to 
climb  the  fence  into  this  cleared  field, 
and  indeed  some  of  us  were  already 
there,  when  we  heard  the  bugle  sound- 
ing- the  retire.  Whitney  gave  the  word 
to  us,  and  called  back  those  who  had 
crossed  the  fence.  When  we  turned 
our  backs  on  the  Fenians,  we  had  not 
the  faintest  suspicion  of  defeat.  We 
had,  up  to  the  moment  when  we  got 
the  order  to  retire,  steadily  driven  the 
Fenians  before  us,  but  we  could  see 
them  in  greatly  superior  numbers — 
there  were  only  twenty-eight  of  us.  We 
knew  we  had  lost  touch  with  our  sup- 
ports, and  we  supposed  we  were  mere- 
ly falling  back  to  restore  communica- 
tion with  them,  Whitney  had  already 
sent  back  a  sergeant  to  see  what  had 
become  of  the  rest  of  the  command  and 
to  ask  for  orders,  but  he  had  not  re- 
turned, and  we  thought  the  bugle  was 
a  summons  to  us  to  rejoin  our  com- 
rades, of  whose  success  no  doubts  had 
entered  our  minds.  All  the  same  we 
soon  found  out  the  astonishing  differ- 
ence on  the  mental,  moral  and  physical 
condition  of  the  soldier  under  fire 
which  is  produced  by  the  simple  rota- 
tion of  his  body  through  an  angle  of 
i8o\  The  first  sensation  was  of  intense 
disgust  at  having  to  turn  our  backs  on 
the  enemy  ;  the  second  the  acute  real- 
ization  that  we  had  had  no  breakfast 
that  morning,  and  no  supper  nor  sleep 
the  night  before,  and  that  we  were 
nearly  dead  beat.  Up  till  that  moment 
the  thought  of  fatigue  had  never  occur- 
red to  us,  and  we  had  felt  as  fresh  as 
paint.  Now  it  seemed  as  if  it  was  impos- 
sibleto  dragone  leg  aftertheother.  But 
then  we  felt  that  it  would  not  do  to  be 
left  behind,  for  there  were  the  Fenians, 
Upon  them  our  change  of  position  had 
had  a  precisely  opposite  effect,  and 
they  followed  us  cheerfully  with  much 
shooting.  When  we  reached  the  cross 
road  a  number  of  us  stopped,  and 
kneeling  behind  the  fence  opened  a 
brisk  fire  upon  the  enemy,    and  for  a 

time  checked  their  advance.  But  there 
were  too  many  of  them  and  their  fire 
was  too  fatal.  Mackenzie  had  fallen 
before  the  retreat  began,  shot  through 
the  heart,  and  now  others  were  drop- 
ping fast.  About  this  time  Tempest 
and  Newburn  were  killed,  and  Vaader- 
smissen,  Paul,  Kingsford  and  Patter- 
son were  wounded.  In  the  cross  road 
Tempest  was  next  to  me.  Just  after 
firing  a  shot  he  rose  to  his  feet.  He 
was  a  very  tall  fellow,  and  presented  a 
conspicuous  mark  above  the  fence. 
Next  moment  I  heard  the  sound  of  a 
dull,  heavy  blow,  and  saw  him  fall  for- 
ward on  his  face.  I  ran  to  his  side 
and  found  a  small,  round  hole  in  his 
forehead.  He  had  been  shot  through 
the  head,  and  the  bullet,  after  pene- 
trating the  brain,  had  broken  the  bone 
at  the  back  of  the  skull.  Of  course  he 
died  instantly.  As  soon  as  I  saw  that 
nothing  more  could  be  done  for  him,  1 
looked  about  me  and  found  that  I  was 
alone  on  the  road.  A  little  farther  to 
the  right  was  a  brick  house  and  orch- 
ard,, and  as  this  promised  better  cover 
than  the  open  field,  I  made  for  it.  It 
stood  at  the  crossing  of  this  road  with 
the  Ridge  road,  along  which  we  had 
been  marching  before  the  fight,  and 
when  I'  reached  it  I  saw  a  body  of 
troops  in  the  orchard,  which,  from 
their  dark  clothes,  I  took  to  be  the 
Queen's  Own.  I  hastened  to  join  them, 
hut  they  turned  out  to  be  a  column  of 
Fenians,  who  saluted  me  with  a  volley. 
An  attempt  to  fire  my  rifle  proved  that 
it  was  empty,  and  while  in  the  act  of 
reloading  I  was  surrounded  and  made 
prisoner.  I  was  placed  in  the  brick 
house,  under  chargeof  a  guard.  As  soon 
as  I  was  there,  the  fatigue,  which  had 
been  forgotten  during  the  stand  in  the 
road,  returned  with  redoubled  force, 
and  I  lay  down  on  a  mattress  com- 
pletely exhausted.  After  a  while,  how- 
ever, a  Fenian  came  in,  bleeding  freely 
from  a  wound  in  the  ankle.  I  roused 
up  and  tied  it  up  with  a  bandage  torn 
from  a  sheet.  My  success  in  this  sim- 
ple, surgical  operation  at  once  estab- 
lished cordial  relations  between  myself 
and  my  captors.  They  got  me  a  drink 
of  water,  which  greatly  refreshed  me. 

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and  we  smoked  a  social  pipe  together. 
Presently  a  mounted  officer  rode  up 
and  ordered  us  to  proceed  to  the  front. 
We  set  off,  a  Fenian,  with  bayonet 
fixed,  marching  on  each  side  of  me. 
The  sight  of  the  killed  and  wounded 
whom  we  passed  lying  in  the  dusty 
road  beneath  the  blazing  June  sun,  was 
sad  indeed.  At  a  roadside  tavern, 
called  the  "  Smugglers'  Home,"  we 
halted,  and  here  I  found  Private  junor, 
of  the  University  Company,  in  his  shirt 
sleeves,  carrying  a  pail  of  water  for  the 
wounded,  several  of  whom,  among 
them  Ensign  Fahey,  of  the  Queen's 
Own,  and  Lieutenant  Routh,  of  the 
13th,  were  lying  on  the  floor  of  the 
bar-room.  After  a  few  words  with 
them  we  were  again  ordered  to  march. 
Junor  and  two  other  prisoners,  one  of 
Trinity  College  Company,  and  one 
of  the  13th,  were  added  to  our  party. 
At  my  request,  Junor  and  I  were  allow- 
ed to  walk  together.  At  the  village 
of  Ridgeway  we  found  the  Fenians  rest- 
ing after  the  fight.  Their  conduct  was 
perfectly  orderly.  There  was  no  plun- 
dering, though  the  village  was  entirely 
at  their  mercy.  A  coloured  man,  who 
attempted  to  steal  some  articles  from 
the  store,  was  stopped  by  an  oflicer, 
who  placed  a  revolver  at  his  head  and 
sternly  ordered  him  out,  threatening  to 
blow  his  brains  out  if  he  caught  him 
there  again.  There  was  a  tavern  in 
the  village,  but  not  a  man  touched  a 
drop  of  liquor.  They  told  me  that 
their  orders  were  strict  against 
drinking,  and  against  stealing  any- 
thing, except  food  and  horses.  These 
orders,  I  can  testify  from  personal  ob- 
servation, were  rigidly  obeyed.  They 
gave  me  half  a  loaf  of  bread,  which 
was  very  welcome,  and  after  about  an 
hour's  rest  we  fell  in  again,  and  turn- 
ing our  backs  on  Ridgeway,  set  out  in 
retreat  for  Fort  Erie,  along  the  Garri- 

The  Fenians'  treatment  of  myself 
and  the  other  prisoners  was  kind  and 
considerate  in  the  extreme.  The  day 
was  hot,  and  the  road  dusty.  The 
Fenians  observed  the  most  perfect 
discipline.  At  intervals,  when  we  came 
to  a   wayside    house,  they  asked  for 

water,  and  on  these  occasions  they  al- 
ways gave  us  the  first  drink.  Ooe 
woman  in  response  to  their  request  for 
water  brought  out  a  pail  of  buttermilk, 
which  they  handed  to  me.  That  drink 
of  buttermilk  will  always  live  in  my 
memory  as  the  most  delicious  draught 
I  ever  had.  Our  guards  conversed 
with  us,  by  the  way,  in  the  most 
friendly  manner,  and  took  us  freely 
into  their  confidence.  They  thought 
that  the  Canadian  people  would  gladly 
welcome  them  as  deliverers,  and  they 
thought  that  the  regular  troops  would 
not  fight  against  them.  "  Quay  bee' H 
be  the  hardest  nut  for  us  to  crack," 
said  one  of  them.  "  Sure,  the  French 
'11  burn  that  for  us,"  cheerfully  rejoin- 
ed his  comrade.  Their  uniform  consist- 
ed of  a  green  shirt,  with  brass  buttons, 
dark  trousers,  a  black,  soft  felt  hat, 
with  wide  brim.  Overtheirshirts  they 
wore  dark  civilian  coats  which  served 
the  purpose  of  overcoats,  and  which 
had  been  used  to  conceal  their  uniform 
before  crossing  the  river.  Itwas  owing 
to  this  fact  that  the  general  impression 
prevailed  that  the  Fenians  were  not  in 
uniform.  Most  of  the  superior  officers 
wore  the  dress  proper  to  the  rank  they 
had  held  in  the  American  army  during 
the  Civil  War.  The  officer  command- 
ing our  escort,  who  had  the  commis- 
sion of  Captain  in  the  army  of  the  Irish 
Republic,  was  a  striking-looking  figure. 
He  was  about  fifty  years  of  age,  with 
a  long,  iron-grey  beard.  He  had 
served  as  a  sergeant  in  the  Southern 
army  during  the  war,  and  had  walked 
all  the  way  from  Tennessee  to  take 
part  in  the  raid,  joining  the  Fenians 
just  in  time  for  the  battle.  He  wore 
his  old  regulation  kepi,  a  long  black 
frock  coat,  with  a  belt  outside,  in  which 
was  stuck  a  sword  without  a  scabbard. 
He  was  full  of  enthusiasm  for  the  cause 
of  Ireland,  and  of  fierce  hatred  against 
the  English.  But  to  us,  whom  the  for- 
tune of  war  had  made  his  prisoners, 
his  conduct  was  all  gentleness  and 

Towards  evening  we  neared  Fort 
Erie,  and  a  mounted  officer  came  up  to 
us  with  the  order,  "  Prisoners  and  bag-- 
gage  to  the  rear  J "     We  were  halted 

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at  the  roadside  and  allowed  all  the 
column  to  pass  us.  The  escort,  who 
knew  from  this  order  that  another  fight 
was  expected,  became  greatly  excited, 
and  cursed  the  ill-luck  which  condemn- 
ed them  to  inactivity.  Thanks  to  their 
eag^eruess  to  see  what  was  going  on, 
I  had  an  excellent  opportunity  of  watch- 
ing the  action  that  followed ;  for  as  soon 
as  the  troops  had  all  marched  past, 
they  led  us  up  to  a  plateau,  where 
we  had  a  clear  view  of  the  whole  affair. 
The  road  here  slopes  down  between 
high  banks  to  the  river.  One  division 
of  the  Fenians  continued  their  march 
down  this  road  till  it  reached  another 
road,  which  runs  along  the  river  bank. 
Here  they  turned  to  the  left  and  march- 
ed straight  for  the  village  of  Fort  Erie, 
which  we  could  pl^nly  see,  with  the 
Stars  and  Stripes  flying  from  the  house 
of  the  American  Consul.  Across  the 
river  was  the  town  of  Black  Rock,  and 
there  the  shore  was  crowded  with  spec- 
tators. Another  division  of  the  Fenians 
left  the  road  where  we  were,  and  ad- 
vanced in  line  across  the  fields  in  a 
direction  parallel  to  that  of  the  column 
which  was  marching  by  the  river  road. 
The  high  banks  soon  hid  the  river  col- 
umn from  our  sight,  but  in  a  short 
time  the  report  of  musketry  told  us  that 
it  had  gone  into  action.  Who  the  de- 
fenders were  or  what  their  strength 
was,  we  did  not  then  know  ;  but  we 
afterwards  learned  that  fifty-four  men 
of  the  Weltand  Field  Battery,  acting 
as  infantry,  and  eighteen  men  of  the 
Dunnville  Naval  Company,  were  hold- 
ing the  place.  For  a  while  the  firing 
was  kept  up  smartly,  but  all  this  time 
the  second  division  was  marching  across 
the  fields  above  the  town,  and  now 
ihey  wheeled  to  the  right  and  thus  took 
the  defenders  on  the  flank.  They  ad- 
vanced rapidly,  firing  as  they  went.    In 

the  village  there  was  at  first  a  continu- 
ous roar  of  musketry,  which  gradually 
slackened.  There  were  a  few  dropping 
shots  which  soon  ceased  altogether. 
The  smoke  drifted  away  ;  and  Fort 
Erie  was  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy. 
The  result  of  the  conflict  was  hailed 
with  shouts  of  triumph  from  the  crowds 
of  spectators  at  Black  Rock, 

We  were  then  marched  down  to  the 
river  side.  Here  we  met  General  O'- 
Neil,  the  Fenian  Commander.  He  told 
us  that  his  men  were  old  soldiers  and 
knew  how  to  treat  prisoners,  and  that 
we  should  have  no  cause  to  complain, 
unless  any  of  his  men  were  hanged  by 
the  Canadians,  in  which  case  he  pro- 
mised he  would  shoot  ten  of  us  for 
every  Fenian  hanged.  He  then  stop- 
ped at  a  roadside  tavern  and  ordered  a 
glass  of  beer  for  each  of  us.  for  which 
he  paid.  We  were  then  marched  to- 
gether with  a  number  of  the  Welland 
Field  Battery,  who  had  been  taken 
prisoners  at  Fort  Erie,  to  the  old  Fort, 
which  is  a  ruin  standing  on  the  river 
bank.  Tlie  Fenians  established  guards, 
lit  fires,  and  set  about  cooking  their 
supper.  To  each  of  us  they  gave  a 
slice  of  raw  pork,  a  biscuit,  aud  a  drink 
of  water. 

The  day  had  been  hot.  The  night 
was  clear  and  very  cold,  too  cold  for 
much  sleep.  About  two  o'clock  In  the 
morning  we  were  aroused  and  marched 
down  to  the  wharf.  There  we  saw  a 
large  body  of  Fenians  in  the  act  of  em- 
barking on  a  great  scow.  When  the 
last  man  embarked,  O'Neil  told  us  we 
were  free.  He  then  shook  hands,  and 
said  good-bye,  adding  that  he  would  be 
back  soon  with  a  larger  force.  I  told 
him  he  would  find  us  better  prepared 
next  time  ;  and  so  ended  my  adven- 
tures as  a  Prisoner  of  War. 

Wm.  Hodgson  Ellis. 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 



By  Professor   WUltam  Clark. 

THE  comparison  of  one  work  of  art 
with  another  is  never  quite  profit- 
able, althoug;h  it  is  sometimes  almost 
unavoidable.  It  has  been  largely  prac- 
ticed in  connection  with  the  different 
parts  of  Dante's  great  poem.  To  a 
large  class  of  readers  the  Inferno  seems 
to  make  a  special  appeal ;  to  others 
the  Paradiso.  We  believe,  however, 
that  in  personal  and  religious  interest, 
no  part  of  the  poem  comes  nearer  to 
human  experience  than  the  Purgatorio. 
As  has  already  been  remarked,  the 
Inferno  is  a  hollow  inverted  cone,  the 
passage  of  which  becomes  more  diffi- 
cult as  we  descend.  The  Purgatorio 
is  a  mountain  thrust  out  from  the  earth 
by  the  formation  of  the  Inferno  within ; 
and  on  this  the  ascent  ever  grows 
easier.  Both  are  places  of  suffering; 
but  the  one  has  the  suffering  of  hope- 
less misery  which  hardens  and  destroys, 
the  other  the  suffering  of  hope  and  joy, 
which  purifies,  elevates  and  prepares 
for  a  better  and  higher  life.  The  rea- 
son in  each  case  is  plain.  The  one  is 
a  state  of  impenitence  and  unbelief 
which  shuts  out  every  gracious  influ- 
ence ;  the  other  a  state  of  lowliness, 
penitence  and  love  which  opens  the 
soul  to  every  higher  power.  In  the 
Inferno  we  see  the  operation  and  con- 
sequences of  different  forms  of  evil :  in 
the  Purgatorio  the  principle  of  sin  is 
purged  away. 

There  are  nine  circles  in  both,  and 
both  have  a  vestibule;  but  in  the  In- 
ferno it  is  not  reckoned  one  of  the  nine 
cnrcles.  It  is  so  reckoned  in  the  Pur- 
gatorio. Another  difference  should  be 
noted.  The  division  in  the  Inferno  is 
a  circle  {cerchio) :  in  the  Purgatorio  it 
is  a  terrace  or  cornice  [baiao,  precipice). 
The  circles  are  concentric:  the  ascent 
in  the  Pui^atorto  is  by  a  spiral  path. 

In    the  vestibule    of  the    Purgatorio 

are  those  who  delayed  their  repentance 
to  the  last.  On  the  summit  of  the 
mountain  is  the  earthly  paradise,  lost 
in  Adam,  recovered  by  the  second 
Adam,  and  entered  by  those  who  have 
passed  through  cleansing  fires.  Be- 
tween those  two  extremes  are  seven 
terraces  in  which  the  seven  cardinal 
sins  are  cleansed  away.  There  is  an- 
other difference.  In  descending  throu^jh 
the  Inferno  we  find  the  sins  become 
more  heinous:  in  ascending  the  mount 
of  purification  they  become  lighter. 
For  example,  sensuality  is  the  first  sin 
punished  in  the  Inferno:  it  is  the  last 
cleansed  in  the  Purgatorio.  Instead 
of  the  horrid  Charon,  the  ferryman  of 
hetl,  there  is  an  angel  in  a  boat  with 
no  other  sail  than  the  angel's  wings. 

The  opening  lines  of  the  poem  de- 
clare the  change  which  has  taken  place : 

"  O'er  better  waves  to  speed  her  rapid  course 

The  light  bark  of  my  genius  lifts  the  sail. 

Well  pleased  to  leave  so  cruel  sea  behind  j 

And  of  that  second  regin.  will  I  sing 

In  which  the  human  ipirit  from  sinful  bloi 

Is  purged,  and  for  ascent  to  heaven  prepares." 

All  is  changed.  We  have  passed  from 
darkness  to  light,  from  fierce  hurricanes 
to  gentle  gales,  from  pestilential  va- 
pours to  pure  and  fragrant  air.  Be- 
ginning at  the  shore  of  humility,  we 
pass  into  the  vestibule,*  lying  at  the 
base  of  the  mountain,  inhabited  by  the 
negligent,  who  have  delayed  their  re- 
pentance until  the  hour  of  death,  and 
are  detained  there  for  a  season  before 
entering  Purgatory  proper. 

In  this  there  are  seven  terraces  or 
cornices  rising  above  each  other, 
reached  by  a  spiral  path,  in  which  the 
seven  cardinal  sins  are  purged.  These 
sins  are  arranged  in  an  inverse  order, 

•So  far   the   subiecl   occupies   the   first   8 

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and  differ  to  some  extent  from  those 
in  the  Inferno.  There  they  began  with 
incontinence  and  ended  with  fraud. 
Here  they  begin  with  pride,  the  root  of 
all  sin,  and  end  with  incontinence.  The 
seven  sins  of  the  Purgatorio  arc  of  two 
classes,  with  one  intermediate  between 
them.  The  first  class  consists  of  sins 
agfainst  love:  i.  pride,  3.  envy,  3.  anger; 
the  other  are  sins  of  misdirected  love: 
5.  avarice  and  prodigality,  6.  gluttony 
and  drunkenness,  7.  incontinence.  Be- 
tween these  two  classes  lies  a  remark- 
able form  of  evil,  Acidia  ( 'anr/dia ) , 
gfenerally  translated  Sloth,  in  books  of 
devotion,  etymologic  ally  signifying  in- 
difference. "Languid  indifference" 
would  probably  be  as  good  as  any  other 
rendering.  Beyond  these  terraces  rises 
the  earthly  paradise. 

The  first  thing  that  caught  Dante's 
eye  was  the  Southern  Cross,  a  constel- 
lation of  four  stars  (1.  34)  symbolizing 
the  four  cardinal  virtues,  wisdom, 
courage,  temperance  and  justice. 
Afterwards  three  stars  are  seen  (viii. 
90),  representing  the  theological  vir- 
tues or  Christian  graces,  faith,  hope 
and  love,  all  together  making  up  the 
seven  virtues  of  the  Schoolmen. 

Next  they  see  an  old  man,  Cato 
(i.  31),  the  highest  embodiment  of 
merely  human  morality,  the  four  stars 
shining  on  his  face.  Cato  had  told 
Virgil  to  bind  Dante  with  a  tender 
reed  in  token  of  humility,  the  starting- 
point  of  all  evangelical  goodness  ;  and 
to  bathe  and  cleanse  his  face,  which  had 
been  soiled  an^  disfigured  by  the 
smoke  of  hell.  As  the  sun  rises,  the 
poet,  looking  across  the  sea,  beholds 
a  light  approaching  swiftly  and  grow- 
ing brighter  as  it  approaches.  The 
brightness  takes  the  form  of  wings. 
It  is  the  angel  of  God,  the  heavenly 
ferryman,  with  the  bark  in  which  he 
conveys     passengers      to     Purgatory 

(ii.  28). 

Many  souls  are  in  the  boat ;  they  are 
being  conducted  by  the  angel  from 
the  estuary  of  the  Tiber  (Rome)  to  the 
Mount  of  Purification.  Coming  to  the 
vestibule,  already  mentioned,  they  find 
four  classes  who  have  delayed  repent- 
ance :   I.  Those  dying  excommunicate 

but  contrite.  2.  Those  presuming  on 
God's  mercyand  delaying  their  repent- 
ance till  death.  3.  The  negligent  of 
the  same  class  who  died  by  violence. 
4.  Those  who,  through  preoccupation 
of  political  cares,  delayed  repentance. 
These  arc  punished  by  periods  of  deten- 
tion in  the  vestibule  before  being 
allowed  to  enter  Purgatory  proper. 

Dante  falls  asleep,  and  is  conveyed  by 
S.Lucy  (prevenient  Grace),  the  illumin- 
ator, to  the  gate  of  Purgatory  proper, 
which  is  entered  by  three  steps,  the 
first  of  white  marble,  in  which  the  face 
is  reflected,  signifying  self-examination 
and  self-knowledge  ;  the  second  burnt 
and  cracked,  signifying  contrition  ; 
and  the  third  of  porphyry,  signifying 
the  fervent  purpose  of  good,  passing 
into  love.  An  angel  is  seated  on  the 
highest  step,  who,  with  the  blunt  point 
of  his  sword,  imprints  the  letter  P 
(Peccatum  =  sin),  seven  times  on 
Dante's  brow,  signifying  the'  seven 
cardinal  sins  from  which  men  are 
cleansed  in  Purgatory.  As  Dante 
passes  from  stage  to  stage  one  P  after 
another  is  removed  from  his  brow. 

I.  The  first  of  the  terraces  or  cor- 
nices {daiei)  is  occupied  by  the  proud 
(ix-xiij.  Pride,  the  principle  of  self- 
idolatry,  the  principle  which  makes 
self  and  not  God  the  principle  of  all 
things,  is  the  deepest  root  of  every 
form  of  moral  evil.  It  means  the  same 
which  modern  moralists  designate  as 
selfishness.  At  the  back  of  the  ter- 
race a  high  cliff  of  white  marble  rises, 
sculptured  with  stories  of  humility  in 
bas-relief,  designed  for  the  instruction 
of  the  penitents.  First  comes  the 
beautiful  story  of  the  Annunciation 
(x.  31)  followed  by  others  conveying 
the  same  lesson. 

The  proud  are  chastened  by  having 
to  march  along  bowed  to  the  earth  by 
great  weights.  They  have  assumed 
much,  and  they  are  made  to  feel  the 
weight  of  it.  They  are  bent  so  low 
that  Dante  could  hardly  recognize  the 
human  form  in  them.  But  this  is  the 
cure  as  well  as  the  punishment  of  pride. 
If  he  that  exalteth  himself  must  be 
abased,  it  is  equally  true  that  those 
who    humble    themselves    under     the 

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mighty  hand  of  God,  He  will  exalt  in 
due  time. 

The  proud  repeat  the  Lord's  Prayer, 
in  the  form  of  a  paraphrase  which  con- 
stitutes an  admirable  exposition  of  the 
prayer  (xi.  1-24).  Then  illustrations  are 
givenof  the  differentforms  of  pride:  pride 
of  birth,  pride  of  art  and  intellect,  am- 
bition and  the  love  of  popularity.  There 
are  no  purse-proud  people  mentioned  ; 
althougfh  that  form  of  pride  could  hard- 
ly have  been  unknown  in  those  days. 
Dante  is  now  cleansed  of  pride,  the 
angfel  brushing  his  brow  with  his  wing 
and  obliterating  the  first  of  the  seven 
P's,  As  they  go  up  they  hear  voices 
singing,  "  Blessed  are  the  poor  in 
spirit ;"  and  the  poet,  lightened  by  the 
cleansing,  ascends  to  the  next  terrace 
with  ease. 

2.  In  the  second  terrace  the  sin  of 
Envy  is  purged  (xiii.  and  xiv.).  Just 
as  in  the  first  there  were  representa- 
tives of  examples  of  humility  for  the 
instruction  of  the  proud,  so  now,  as 
they  pass  along,  they  hear  invisible 
spirits  singing  songs  commending  the 
exercise  of  love  to  friend  and  foe.  In 
the  one  case  pictorial  art  is  introduced 
as  an  instrument  of  moral  instruction 
and  progress,  in  the  other  case  music. 
Soon  they  come  upon  a  number  of  per- 
sons, "  Shadows  with  garments  dark 
as  was  the  rock. "  They  are  sufferers, 
clad  in  sackcloth,  leaning  on  each  other 
and  on  the  cliff,  bhnded  by  a  piece  of 
wire  passing  through  the  eyeball. 
Blindness  is,  at  once,  a  cause  and  an 
effect  of  envy.  Virgil  consoles  them 
with  the  hope  of  vision  hereafter.  A 
beautiful  passage,  beginning,  "  Even- 
ing was  there,  and  here  the  moon  of 
night,"  (xv.  6),  should  be  noted.  They 
now  ascend  the  mount  and  hear  the 
chant,  "Beat!  mjsericordes "  (blessed 
are  the  merciful)  and  the  second  P.  is 

Before  leaving,  Dante  is  anxious  to 
understand  one  element  in  the  condem- 
nation of  envy,  namely,  that  the  wider 
distribution  of  good  does  not  take  from 
those  who  possess,  but  adds  to  their 
happiness  ;  good  distributed  enriches 
the  many  without  taking  from  the  few 
(xv,  106).      Virgil  replies  ; 

"  The  highest  good 
Unlimited,  ineffable,  doth  so  speed 
To  love,  as  beam  to  lucid  body  darts. 
Giving  Ets  much  of  ardour  as  it  finds.  .  .  . 
So  th&t  the  more  aspirants  to  that  bliss 
Are  multiplied,  more  good  is  there  to  love, 
And  more  is  loved  ;  as  mirrors  thut  reflect, 
Each  unto  other,  propagated  light." 

3.  lliey  are  now  approaching  the 
cornice  of  the  wrathful.  As  the  poets 
go  on,  they  become  gradually  envel- 
oped in  a  fog  which  slowly  gathers 
round  them,  so  that  Dante  needs,  like 
a  blind  man,  to  be  led  by  Virgil.  On 
the  way  they  encounter  examples  of 
meekness,  for  instance,  Mary  and 
Joseph  finding  Jesus  in  the  temple,  and 
Stephen  praying  for  his  murderers. 
The  sufferers  are  praying  to  the  Lamb 
of  God,  as  the  embodiment  of  divine 
meekness.  Among  the  wrathful  they 
find  Marco  Lombard!,  who  explains 
that  the  evil  which  exists  is  not  the 
fruit  of  nature  or  of  necessity,  but  is 
the  result  of  man's  perversion  of  his 
freedom.  The  deplorable  condition  of 
Italy  he  accounts  for  largely  by  the 
confusion  of  the  temporal  and  spiritual 
powers,  and  he  seems  chiefly  to  blame 
the  papal  see  (xvi.  100).  At  last  the 
angel's  wing  touches  his  brow,  and 
another  letter  is  effaced,  while  the 
"  Beat!  pacifici"  (blessed  are  the  peace- 
makers) sounds  in  his  ears. 

4.  The  fourth  sin  in  order — lying  be- 
tween the  two  great  classes  of  sin — is 
that  oiAcidia  {'axTjSia),  generally  trans- 
lated in  devotional  works  as  Sloth, 
etymologically  signifying  indifference. 
A  good  translation  of  it  would  probab- 
ly be  "languid  indifference."  It  sig- 
nifies lukewarmness,  lack  of  zeal,  and 
sluggishness  in  good  works.  As  al- 
ready pointed  out,  this  vice  stands 
midway  between  the  two  groups  of 
three  on  either  side  ot  it.  The  first 
three — pride,  envy  and  anger — are  sins 
against  love.  The  last  three — avarice, 
gluttony  and  incontinence — are  forms 
of  misplaced  or  exaggerated  love,  seek- 
ing happiness  in  early  things,  using 
them  either  unlawfully  or  excessively. 
Virgil  declares  that  this  sin  of  indiffer- 

'  ence  arises  from  defect  of  love.  In  a 
very  interesting  passage  (xvii.  90)  he 
points  out  that  love  is  the  principle  of 




all  action,  and  so  is  the  source  of  g'ood 
and  evil.      It  is  the  germ,  he  says, 

"Of  each  virtue  in  ye, 
And  of  each  acl.  aa  less,  that  merits  pain." 

The  subject  is  pursued  at  great 
length,  and  much  high  and  mystical 
conversation  follows  on  the  nature  of 
love  and  the  good  {xviii.).  The  love 
of  the  good,  Virgil  says,  is  innate,  and 
therefore  is  in  itself  neither  reprehensi- 
ble Dor  meritorious.  Love  finds  its  full 
rest  in  the  possession  of  the  good.  But 
there  is  danger  of  counterfeited  good 
being  sought,  Instead  of  the  true  good ; 
and  it  is  the  business  of  conscience  to 
select  an  object — -to  adjust  the  motives 
to  the  will — so  as  to  further  the  su- 
preme good  of  the  Spirit.  This  selec- 
tion determines  the  moral  character  of 
our  actions  (xviii.  62). 

Soon  they  are  overtaken  by  a  crowd 
(xviii.  96).  Two  of  these  recite  ex- 
amples of  zeal  guided  by  love,  like 
"Blessed  Mary,"  who  "sought  with 
haste  the  hilly  region,"  while,  at  this 

"  '  O  tarry  not,  away,' 
The  others  shouted  ;  '  let  not  time  be  lost 
Through  slackness  of  affection.      Hearty  leal 
To  serve  reanimates  celestial  grace.'  " 

It  is  remarkable  of  the  Purgatorio,  as 
distinguished  from  the  Inferno  and 
Faradtso,  that  Dante  is  frequently  fall- 
ing into  slumber.  Various  explanations 
have  been  attempted.  Perhaps  it  may 
be  intended  to  remind  us  that  the  whole 
is  a  vision  ;  or  perhaps  to  suggest  that, 
ia  the  process  of  purification,  we  are  in 
danger  of  falling  into  a  lethargy  from 
which  we  need  to  be  aroused  by  the 
ag'ents  of  Grace.  Perhaps  it  may  be 
meant  to  recognize  the  office  of  repose 
in  effort  "  So  He  giveth  His  beloved 

5.  They  next  come  to  the  sphere  in 
ivhich  Avarice  and  Prodigality  are 
purged — the  two  extremes  of  excess 
and  defect  in  spending,  the  mean  being 
liberality.  As  they  pass  onwards  to 
this  terrace,  they  hear  voices  singing  : 
"  Beati  qui  lugent"  (blessed  are  they 
that  mourn],  and  another  letter  is  blot- 
ted out.  On  entering  this  department, 
Dante  sees 

"A  race  on  the  ground 
All  downward  lying  prone  and  weeping  aore. 
'  My  soul  hath  cleaved  to  the  dust,'  I  heard 
With  sighs  so  deep  they  wellnigh  choked  the 

vice,  but  those  in  whom  the  regenerate 
life  has  been  hindered  and  depressed  by 
love  of  money,  and  who  are  now  get- 
ting purged  from  this  evil.  Among 
them  was  Hadrian  the  Fifth,  who  was 
Pope  for  only  one  month,  and  during 
that  time  learnt  ' '  at  once  the  dream 
and  cozenage  of  life  "  (xix.  105).  Next 
follow  illustrious  examples  of  poverty 
sung  by  the  spirit  of  Hugh  Capet,  who 
laments  the  errors  in  respect  of  money 
committed  by  many  of  his  royal  de- 
scendants. At  the  end  of  his  recitation 
the  mountain  trembles,  and  voices  on 
all  sides  sing  "Gloria  in  excelsis  Deo. " 
It  is  the  rejoicing  at  the  purification  of 
a  soul. 

Here  (sxi.  9)  they  are  joined  by 
Statins,  author  of  the  Thebaid,  who 
had  been  converted  to  Christianity,  but 
had  not  confessed  it  before  he  died,  and 
therefore  has  a  longer  period  in  Purga- 
tory. He  tells  Dante  how  much  he 
owes  to  the  Mantuan,  not  knowing  that 
Virgil  is  present.  The  mutual  delight 
of  the  poets  follows  the  recognition. 
Statius  is  said  to  be  the  moral  power 
inherent  in  genius,  perhaps  we  might 
say,  regenerate  and  purified  genius  as 
distinguished  from  heathen  genius  in 
Virgil.  The  latter  expressed  his  sur- 
prise that  Statius,  "  midst  such  ample 
store  of  wisdom,"  should  be  found 
among  the  avaricious.  Statius,  "some- 
what moved  to  laughter,"  said  that 
Virgil's  words  were  "a  dear  pledge  of 
love."  Avarice  was  not  his  fault.  On 
the  contrary,  he  was  "too  wide  of 
avarice " ;  his  fault  was  prodigality. 
The  fifth  letter  is  now  brushed  from 
Dante's  brow,  whilst  the  angelic  chorus 
sing  out :  "  Beati  esurientes  "  (blessed 
are  they  that  do  hunger  and  thirst  after 
righteousness).  And  so  they  pass  on 
to  tile  sixth  terrace. 

6.  The  sin  here  purged  is  that  of 
Overeating  or  Gluttony  (xxii-xxiv) 
Soon  they  come  to  a  tree  "  with  goodly 

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fruitage  hung,"  pleasant  to  the  smell, 
and  watered  by  a  crystal  stream.  But 
the  penitents  are  forbidden  to  taste  it. 
From  its  leaves  a  voice  is  heard  (xxiij 


"  Mary  took  more  thought 
For  joy  and  honour  of  Ihe  nuptial  feast 
Than  for  herself,  who  answers  now  for  you. 
The  women  of  old  Rome  were  satisfied 
With  water  for  their  beverage,      Daniel  fed 
On  pulse,  and  wisdom  gained." 

As  Dante  turned  away  from  the  tree, 
he  heard  a  sound  of  weeping,  and  a 
prayer:  "My  lips,  O  Lord,"  It  came 
from  a  crowd  of  spirits  whose  eyes 
were  "dark  and  hollow,"  and  "pale 
their  visage."  T^ese  are  gluttons 
doing  penance  by  fasting.  They  are 
praying  that  those  lips  and  tongues, 
once  given  to  gluttony,  may  now  be 
attuned  to  utter  the  praises  of  God. 
While  the  odour  from  the  tree  provokes 
their  appetite,  they  gladly  bear  the 
pangs  of  hunger,  which  bring  solace 
rather  than  pain. 

By-and-by  they  come  to  another  tree, 
grown  from  a  shoot  taken  from  the  tree 
of  Knowledge.  The  penitents  gently 
long  for  the  fruit  of  this  tree  ;  but  are 
told  that  their  wish  cannot  be  granted 
until  they  have  passed  through  the 
water  of  Lethe  (Forgetfulness)  and 
entered  the  terrestrial  Paradise.  Per- 
fected knowledge  comes  as  the  result 
of  our  discipline.  Another  letter  is  now 
effaced  by  the  angel,  who  points  the 
way  to  the  seventh  cornice. 

7.  The  seventh  terrace  contains  the 
Incontinent  (xxv.-xxvi.)    The  transition 
is   described   (xxiv.  ad   fin.)   in   some 
beautiful  lines,  beginning : 
"  As  when,  (o  harbinger  Ihe  dawn,  springs  up 

On  freshened  wing  the  air  of  May,  etc." 

We  have  already  remarked  in  Dante 
the    union   of  tolerance  and    severity. 
We   note   it  here   also.      Carnal  sin  is 
the  first  in  the  Inferno  and  the  last  in 
the  Purgatorio,  and  it  is  the  most  com- 
mon   of    all.       Yet    Dante    knew,    as 
Burns  knew  and  declared,  "  it  hardens 
all  within,  and  petrifies  the  feeling; "  and 
therefore    he    passes    the    incontinent 
through  fires  so  fierce  that,  he  says  : 
"  I  would  have  cast  me  into  molten  glass 
To  cool  me,  when  I  entered  ;  so  intense 
Raged  the  conflagrant  mass."      (xxvii.  94.) 

Dante  had  hesitated  to  enter  the 
flame  until  he  was  told  that  he  was  still 
separated  from  Beatrice,  which  acted 
like  a  charm,  so  that  he  immediately 
formed  the  resolve  just  expressed.  To 
comfort  him  in  passing  through  the 
fire  Virgil  spoke  of  Beatrice  ;  and  as 
they  mount  the  stairs,  they  hear  voices 
singing,  "Come,  ye  blessed  of  My 
Father,"  and  so  they  pass  upwards. 
On  the  way  he  falls  asleep,  and  in  a 
dream  sees  Leah  and  Rachel,  repre- 
sentatives of  the  active  and  the  con- 
templative life,  reminding  us  that  life 
must  not  only  be  purified,  but  also 
nourished  by  positive  processes,  activity 
and  contemplation. 

Virgil  now  takes  leave  of  Dante, 
saying  that  he  no  longer  needs  his 
guidance.  Human  reason  and  consci* 
ence  have  done  their  work.  "To  dis- 
trust thy  sense  henceforth,"  says  Vir- 
gil, "were  error,"  This  purged  eye 
can  now  behold  the  spiritual  world  as 
it  is.  Dante  is  now  purged  from  his 
ignorance  and  weakness  and  ascends 
to  the  top  of  the  mountain  of  purifica- 
tion, where  is  the  earthly  Paradise. 

As  he  passes  onwards  his  way  lies 
across  a  wood  through  which  a  crystal 
stream  is  flowing.  It  is  Lethe  inwhich 
the  remembrance  of  sins  is  to  be 
effaced  and  moral  freedom  restored. 
On  the  opposite  side  he  sees  : 

Was  all  o'er  painted."     (xxviii.  41.) 

This  was  Matilda,  the  symbol  of 
Christian  doctrine  and  the  Divine  min- 
istry. She  explains  to  him  the  meaning 
of  Lethe,  the  river  of  the  forgetfulness 
of  evil,  and  Eunoe,  the  river  of  the  re- 
membrance of  good,  which  have  a 
common  source. 

As  the  church  alone  can  restore  men 
to  the  Paradise  forfeited  by  Adam  and 
Eve,  the  church  now  appears  under 
the  form  of  a  triumphal  chariot,  drawn 
by  the  mystic  Gryphon,  half  lion  and 
half  eagle,  representing  the  Divine- 
human  Lord  of  the  church.  In  the 
chariot  is  seated  Beatrice,  representing- 
divine  wisdom  and  grace.  Three  vir- 
gins are  on  her  right,  the  theological 

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virtues,  and  four  on  her  left,  the  moral 
virtues.  Four  and  twenty  elders, 
crowned  with  lilies,  go  before,  repre- 
sentiog  the  Old  Testament.  Behind 
the  car  come  the  four  mystical  creatures 
of  Ezekiel,  representing  the  four  evan- 
gelists. Others  follow  of  no  certain 
meaning  ;  but  it  is  plain  that  they  are 
the  teachers  of  the  church.  On  the 
other  side  of  the  stream  is  Beatrice 
(xxx.  53),  who  bids  him  not  weep  at 
the  loss  of  Virgil,  but  prepare  to  feel 
the  edge  of  another  sword,  her  re- 
proaches. Shame  covers  his  face,  re- 
membering what  he  had  himself  con- 
fessed in  the  Vita  Nuova.  Suddenly 
the  angels  sing  :  "In  Thee  O  Lord, 
have  1  trusted,"  and  Dante  is  melted, 
weeps,  and  confesses  his  errors  of  the 
past.  He  then  finds  himself  crossing 
the  water  of  Lethe,  borne  up  by  Matil- 
da, .  who  causes  him  to  drink  of  the 
water  of  oblivion.  He  is  then  given 
into  the  hands  of  the  seven  nymphs 
(cardinal  virtues). 

Dante  is  now  able  to  contemplate  the 
past  history  and  future  destinies  of  the 
church.  The  car  is  fastened  to  the 
Tree  of  Knowledge,  which  represents 
the  Empire.  Beatrice  (Divine  Grace) 
remains  near  the  chariot  with  her  seven 
virgins,  bearing  seven  lights  (the  seven 
gifts  of  the  Holy  Ghost).  An  eagle  re- 
presents the  violence  to  which  the 
church  is  exposed.  Then  a  fox,  gaunt 
and  hungry,  steals  inside  the  car,  re- 
presenting Heresy.  Next,  a  dragon 
tears  away  a  portion  of  the  framework 
of  the  car,  representing  schisms.  Then 
comes  the  eagle  again,  representing 
secular  power.  Next  the  harlot,  show- 
ing the  church  in  unlawful  union  with 
the  world.  The  giant  stands  for 
France,  and  the  removal  of  the  chariot 
into  the  forest  symbolizes  the  removal 
of  the  papal  chair  to  Avignon.  But 
Beatrice  predicts  the  coming  of  a  de- 
liverer who  will  restore  all  things. 
Then  Matilda  leads  Dante  to  the  river 
Eunoe,  that  his  cure,  may  be  complete. 
Matilda,  whatever  may  he  the  histori- 
cal reference,  stands  here  for  the  Divine 

ministry,  and  its  two  functions  of  abso- 
lution and  edification.  Thus  evil  is  doae 
away  and  good  made  permanent. 

The  Purgatorio,  says  Dean  Plump- 
tre,  has  an  autobiographic  character 
which  does  not  attach  to  the  other 
two  parts  of  the  great  poem.  The  In- 
ferno goes  to  the  depths  of  sin  and 
misery — depths  of  which  all  men  are 
capable,  but  which  such  a  writer  could 
contemplate  only  as  apart  from  him- 
self. The  Paradiso  rises  to  the  glory 
which  is  to  be  revealed  and  realized  in 
the  future — the  object  of  hope  and  de- 
sire. The  Purgatorio  brings  us  face  to 
face  with  the  real  struggle  of  the  re- 
generate man.  In  Dante,  or  in  any 
other  representative  of  the  class  under- 
going purification,  there  will  be  special 
and  personal  traits,  but  the  general 
characteristics  of  the  poem  are  univer- 
sal. We  may  speak  of  the  Purgatorio 
as  the  confessions  of  Dante,  and  in  this 
respect  it  is  not  unworthy  to  be  put 
alongside  the  work  of  the  great  Bishop 
of  Hippo. 

In  these  poems  we  have  traces  of 
the  studies  of  Dante.  In  the  Inferno 
we  meet  with  much  which  he  has  de- 
rived from  Virgil.  In  the  Paradiso  we 
see  the  influence  of  S.  Thomas  Aquinas. 
In  the  Purgatorio  we  discern  the  influ- 
ence of  the  devotional  books  of  the 
church,  and  the  hymns  occurring  in 
the  offices  are  frequently  quoted. 

Not  only  so,  but  we  follow,  in  the 
successive  parts  of  the  Commedia,  the 
steps  of  the  poet's  life.  We  trace  the 
different  phases  of  his  inner- man— from 
a  sense  of  evil  to  confession,  and  then 
to  resolve,  and  so  on  to  love  and  effort 
and  purity.  Such  is  the  way  of  the 
righteous — the  path  of  the  just  which 
shineth  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect 
day.  The  way  of  the  cross  is  the  way 
of  life.  We  die  daily  that  we  may 
truly  live.  We  are  crucified  together 
with  Christ,  yet  we  also  live  in  Him. 
The  way  of  purification  is  a  way  of  suf- 
fering. Through  much  tribulation  we 
must  enter  into  the  Kingdom. 

(To  be  concluded  next  month.) 

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By  Beckles  WilUon. 

Note.— In  the  May  and  June  numbers  Mr.  Willson  describes  the  founding  of  York 
Factory,  Ihe  Exploits  of  Radisson  and  Groseilliers,  and  some  later  events  in  Ihe  life  of  the 
former  of  these  two  bushrangers.  The  events  here  described  happened  at  a  later  dale,  but 
this  piece  of  the  history  of  "  The  Great  Company  "  shows  how  intense  was  the  rivalry  of  the 
French  and  the  Engli^  traders  even  in  those  northern  regions.  These  three  articles  on  The 
"    ■       '    ~       "         e  advanced  chapters  from  Mr.  Willson's  forth-coming  book. 

Hudson's  Bay  Co.  a 

T^HE  French  prisoners  captured  in 
*■  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company's  ex-. 
pedition  of  1696  suffered  an  incarcera- 
tion of  nearly  four  tnonths  duration 
at  Portsmouth.  Hardly  had  their  liberty 
been  regained  than  they  boarded  a 
French  brig  bound  for  Havre,  and  on 
arrival  in  Paris,  lost  little  time  in  mak- 
ing known  the  condition  of  aifairs  at 
Hudson's  Bay.  Louis  and  his  Minis- 
ters, gazing  upon  this  emaciated  band 
of  traders  and  bushrangers,  could 
hardly  refrain  from  immediate  action 
to  retrieve  the  situation.  Precisely  fol- 
lowing the  tactics  of  their  enemy  in 
the  previous  year,  they  engaged  four 
men-of-war;  which  fleet  was  despatch- 
ed to  join  Iberville,  then  at  the  port 
of  Placentia,  in  Newfoundland.  The 
Court  was  well  aware  that  there  was 
no  one  man  so  thoroughly  equipped  at 
all  points  in  knowledge  of  the  bay, 
and  the  conditions  there  of  life  and 
warfare,  as  this  hero.  Consequently, 
although  numerous  enough,  all  other 
offers  to  lead  the  expedition  were  re- 

On  the  arrival  of  the  French  ships 
at  Placentia,  Iberville  took  command, 
embarking  in  the  Pelican,  of  fifty  guns. 
The  others  were  the  Palmier,  the 
Weesph,  the  Pn/ond,  and  the  Violent. 

But  Fort  Nelson  was  not  to  be  cap- 
tured without  a  struggle. 

At  almost  the  very  moment  the 
French  fleet  sailed,  there  departed 
from  Plymouth  four  of  the  Company's 
ships,  the  Hampshire,  the  Hudson's 
Bay,  the  Dering,  and  Owner's  Love, 
a  fire-ship,  the  two  former  having 
been  participants  in  the  conquest  of 
the    previous   year.     The    Company's 

fleet  entered  the  straits  Only  forty  hours 
before  the  ships  of  the  French  ;  and 
like  them  -was  much  impeded  by  the 
ice,  which  was  unusually  troublesome. 
Passage  was  made  by  the  enemy  in  the 
English  wake.  The  Profond,  com- 
manded by  Duque,  pushed  past  the 
currents,  taking  a  northerly  course, 
which  brought  her  commander  irito  full 
view  of  two  of  the  Company's  ships. 
Shots  were  exchanged,  but  owing  to 
the  difficulties  engendered  by  the  ice, 
it  was  impossible  to  manceuvre  with 
such  certainty  as  to  cut  off  the  French- 
man's escape.  While  this  skirmish 
was  in  progress,  Iberville  in  the 
Pelican  succeeded  in  getting  past  the 
English  unknown  to  them,  and  reached 
the  mouth  of  the  Nelson  River  in  sight 
of  the  fort.  His  presence,  as  may  be 
imagined,  greatly  surprised  and  dis- 
turbed the  Governor  and  the  Com- 
pany's servants  ;  for  they  had  believed 
their  own  ships  would  have  arrived  in 
season  to  prevent  the  enemy  from  en- 
tering the  straits.  Several  rounds  of 
shot  were  fired  as  a  signal,  in  the 
hope  that  a  response  would  be  made  by 
the  Company's  ships,  which  they  ex- 
pected hourly  in  that  quarter. 

In  his  turn  the  French  commander 
was  equally  disturbed  by  the  non-arri- 
val of  his  three  consorts,  which  the  ex- 
igencies of  the  voyage  had  obliged  htm 
to  abandon.  Two  days  passed  in  a 
state  of  suspense.  At  daybreak  on 
the  fifth  of  September  three  ships* 
were    distinctly   visible  ;  both    parties 

•The  fourth,  the  fire-ship  Chener' s  Love,  was 
never  more  heard  of.  It  is  supposed  that, 
separated  from  the  others,  she  ran  into  Ihe 
ice  and  was  sunk,  with  all  on  board. 



joyfully  believed  they  were  their  own. 
So  certain  was  Iberville,  that  he  im- 
mediately raised  anchor  and  started  to 
join  the  new-comers.  He  was  soon 
undeceived,  but  the  perception  of  his 
mistake  in  no  way  daunted  him. 

The  Company's  commanders  were 
not  prepared  either  for  the  daring  or 
the  fury  ofthe  Frenchman's  onslaught. 
It  is  true  the  Pelican  was  much  super- 
ior to  any  of  their  own  craft  singly, 
beingmanned  by  nearly  twohundredand 
fifty  men,  and  boasting  forty-four  pieces 
of  cannon.  The  Company's  ships  lined 
up,  the  Hampshire  in  front,  the  Dering 
next,  with  the  Hudson's  Bay  bringing 
up  the  rear. 

The  combatants  being  now  in  close 
proximity,  the  battle  began  at  half-past 
nine  in  the  morning.  The  French 
commander  came  straight  for  the 
Hampshire,  whose  captain,  believing 
it  was  his  design  to  board,  instantly 
lowered  his  mainsheet  and  put  up  his 
fore-top-saiL  Contact  having  been  by 
these  means  narrowly  evaded,  the 
battle  suddenly  shifted  between  the 
Pelican  and  the  Dering,  whose  main- 
sail was  smitten  with  a  terrific  volley. 
At  the  same  time  the  Hudson's  Bay, 
veering,  received  a  damaging  broad- 
side. The  Company's  men  could  dis- 
tinctly hear  the  orders  shouted  by 
d'Iberville  to  both  ships  to  discharge 
a  musket  fire  into  the  Dennis  fore- 
castle, but  in  this  he  was  anticipated 
by  the  English  sailors,  who  poured  a 
storm  of  bullets  in  upon  the  French- 
man, accompanied  by  a  broadside  of 
grape,  which  wrought  havoc  with  the 
sails.  While  the  cries  of  the  wounded 
on  the  Pelican  could  be  distinctly  heard, 
all  three  of  the  Company's  ships  open- 
ed fire,  with  the  design  of  disabling 
her  rigging.  But  one  of  them,  the 
Hudson's  Bay,  seeing  that  it  could  not 
engage  the  Pelican,  owing  to  Iber- 
ville's tactics,  determined  to  run  in 
front  of  her  and  give  her  the  benefit  of 
a  constant  hull  fire,  besides  taking  the 
wind  from  her  sails.  Iberville  ob- 
served the  movement  ;  the  two  Eng- 
lish vessels  were  near,  he  veered 
around,  and,  by  a  superb  piece  of  sea- 
manship, came  so  near    to  the  Hamp- 

shire that  the  crew  of  the  latter  saw 
that  boarding  was  intended.  Every 
man  flew  out  on  the  main  deck,  with 
his  pistol  and  cutlass,  and  a  terrific 
broadside  of  grape  on  the  part  of  the 
Englishman  alone  saved  him. 

The  battle  raged  hotter  and  fiercer. 
The  Hampshire's  salvation  had  been 
only  temporary  ;  at  the  end  of  three 
hours  and  a  half  she  began  to  sink, 
with  all  sails  set.  When  this  occurred, 
Iberville  had  ninety  men  wounded, 
forty  being  struck  by  a  single  broad- 
side. Notwithstanding  this,  he  decid- 
ed at  once  to  push  matters  with  the 
Hampshire's  companions,  although  the 
Pelican  was  in  a  badly  damaged  state, 
especially  the  forecastle,  which  was  a 
mass  of  splinters. 

The  enemy  made  at  once  for  the 
Dering,  which,  besides  being  the  small- 
est ship,  had  suffered  severely.  She 
crowded  on  all  sail  and  avoided  an  en- 
counter, and  Iberville  being  in  no 
condition  to  prosecute  the  chase,  soon 
returned  to  the  Hudson's  Bay,  which 
surrendered.  Iberville  was  not  des- 
tined, however,  to  reap  much  advan- 
tage from  his  prize,  the  Hampshire. 
The  English  flag-ship  was  unable  to 
render  any  assistance  to  the  sinking 
Hampshire,  which  soon  went  down 
with  nearly  all  on  board.* 

To  render  the  situation  more  dis- 
tressing, DO  sooner  had  some  ninety 
prisoners  been  made,  than  a  storm 
arose  ;  so  that  it  became  out  of  the 
question. to  approach  the  shore  with 
design  of  landing.  They  were  without 
a  long-boat  and  each  attempt  to  launch 
canoes  in  the  boiling  surf  was  attended 
with  failure. 

Nightfellj  the  wind  instead  of  calm- 
ing, grew  fiercer.  The  sea  became 
truly  terrible,  seeking,  seemingly,  with 
with  all  its  power  to  drive  the  Pelican 
and  the  Hudson's  Bay  upon  the  coast. 
The  rudders  of  each  ship  broke ;  the 

'Thus  was  concluded  what  was,  in  the  opin- 
ion of  the  best  authorities,  French  and  Eng'- 
lish,  one  of  the  fiercest  and  bloodiest  battles 
ofthe  war. 

"Toule  la  Marine  de  Rochefort  croient  que 
ce  combat  a  etc  un  des  plus  rudes  de  cette 
Guerre,"  says  La  Patherie. 

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tide  rose  and  there  seemed  no  hope  for 
the  crews  whose  destiny  was  so  cruel. 
Their  only  hope  In  the  midst  of  the 
bitter  blast  and  clouds  of  snow  which 
environed  them,  lay  in  the  strength  of 
their  cables.  Soon  after  nine  o'clock 
the  Hudson's  Bay  and  its  anchor  parted 
with  a  shock. 

"  Instantly,"  says  one  of  the  surviv- 
ers,  "  a  piercing;  cry  went  up  from  our 
forecastle.  The  wounded  and  dead 
lay  heaped  up,  with  so  little  separation 
one  from  the  other  that  silence  and 
moans  alone  distinguished  them.  All 
were  icy  cold,  and  covered  with  blood. 
They  had  told  us  the  anchor  would 
hold  ;  and  we  dreaded  being  washed 
upon  the  shore  stilf  the  next  morning." 

A  huge  wave  broke  over  the  main 
deck  and  the  ship  rocked  desperately. 
Two  hours  later  the  keel  was  heard  to 
split,  and  the  ship  was  hurled  rudder- 
less to  and  fro  in  the  trough  of  the  sea. 

By  the  French  account,  matters  were 
in  no  more  enviable  state  aboard  the 
Pelican  ;  Iberville,  however,  amidst 
scenes  rivalling  those  just  described, 
did  his  best  to  animate  his  officers  and 
men  with  a  spirit  equalling  his  own. 

"  It  is  better,"  he  cried,  "  to  die,  if 
-we  must,  outside  the  bastions  of  Fort 
Bourbon  than  to  perish  here  like  pent 
sheep  on  board. " 

When  morning  broke,  it  was  seen 
by  the  French  that  their  ship  was  not 
yet  submerged,  and  it  was  resolved  to 
disembark  by  such  means  as  lay  in 
their  power.  The  Company's  servant's 
were  more  fortunate.  The  Hudson's 
Bay  had  drifted  eight  miles  to  the  south 
of  the  fort,  and  was  wrecked  on  abank 
of  icy  marshland,  which  at  least  con- 
strained them  to  wade  no  deeper  than 
their  knees.  The  French,  however, 
were  forced  to  make  their  way  through 
the  icy  water  submerged  to  their  necks, 
from  the  results  of  which  terrible  ex- 
posure no  fewer  than  eighteen  marines 
and  seamen  lost  their  lives.  Once  on 
shore  they  could  not,  like  the  English, 
look  forward  to  a  place  of  refuge  and 
appease  their  hunger  with  provisions 
and  drink.  They  were  obliged,  in  their 
shivering,  half  frozen  state,  to  subsist 
upon  moss  and  seaweed,  but  for  which 

indifferent  nourishment  they  must  in- 
evitably have  perished. 

The  Company's  garrison  witnessed 
the  calamities  which  were  overtaking 
the  French,  but  not  knowing  how  great 
their  number,  and  assured  of  their  hos- 
tility, did  not  attempt  any  acts  of  mer- 
cy. They  perceived  the  enemy  camped 
in  a  wood,  less  than  two  leagues  dis- 
tant, where,  building  several  lai^e 
fires,  they  sought  to  restore  their  spirits 
by  means  of  warmth  and  hot  draughts 
of  boiled  herbs. 

While  the  fort  was  being  continually 
recruitedby  survivors  of  the  two  wreck- 
ed ships,  the  other  three  French  vessels 
had  arrived  on  the  scene.  The  fourth, 
the  Violent,  lay  at  the  bottom  of  the 
bay,  having  been  sunk  by  the  ice.  The 
Palmier  had  suffered  the  loss  of  her 
helm,  but  was  fortunate  in  not  being 
also  a  victim  of  the  storm.  The  French 
forces  being  now  united,  little  time  was 
lost  by  Iberville  in  making  active  pre- 
parations for  the  attack  upon  the  fort. 

On  the  nth,  the  enemy  attained  a 
small  wood,  almost  under  the  guns  of 
the  fort,  and  having  entrenched  them- 
selves, lit  numerous  fires  and  made  con- 
siderable noise  in  order  to  lend  the 
impression  to  the  English  that  an  en- 
trenchment was  being  thrown  up. 
This  ruse  was  successful,  for  the  Gov- 
ernor gave  orders  to  fire  in  that  direc- 
tion. Iberville  seized  this  opportun- 
ity to  effect  a  landing  of  all  his  men 
and  armaments  from  the  ships. 

The  fort  would  now  soon  be  hemmed 
in  on  all  sides,  and  it  were  indeed 
strange  if  a  chance  shot  or  firebrand 
did  not  ignite  the  timbers,  and  the 
powder  magazine  were  not  exploded. 
Governor  Bailey  was  holding  a  council 
of  his  advisers  when  one  of  the  French 
prisoners  in  the  fort  gave  notice  of  the 
approach  of  a  messenger  bearing  a 
flag  of  truce.  He  was  recognized  as 
Martigny,  The  Governor  permitted 
his  advance,  and  sent  a  factor  to  meet 
him  and  insist  upon  his  eyes  being 
bandaged  before  he  would  be  permitted 
to  enter.  Martigny  was  conducted  to 
where  the  council  was  sitting  and 
there  delivered  Iberville's  message,  de- 
manding surrender.     He  was  instantly 

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intemipted  by  Captain  Smith  send, 
who,  with  a  great  show  of  passion, 
asked  the  emissary  if  it  were  not  true 
that  Iberville  had  been  killed  in  the 
action.  In  spite  of  Martiguy's  denials, 
Smithsend  loudly  persisted  in  believing' 
in  Iberville's  death  ;  that  the  French 
were  in  sore  straits,  and  only  made 
the  present  attack  because  no  other 
alternative  was  offered  to  desperate 
men  to  obtain  food  and  shelter.  Bailey 
allowed  himself  to  be  influenced  by 
Smithsend,  and  declined  to  yield  to  any 
of  Martigny's  demands.  The  latter 
returned,  and  the  French  instantly  set 
up  a  battery  near  the  fort,  and  con- 
tinued, amidst  a  hail  of  bullets,  the 
work  of  landing  their  damaged  stores 
and  armaments.  Stragglers  from  the 
wreck  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  continued  all 
day  to  find  their  way  to  the  fort,  but 
several  reached  it  only  to  be  shot  down 
in  mistake  by  the  cannon  and  muskets 
of  their  own  men.  On  the  12th,  after 
a  hot  skirmish,  fatal  to  both  sides,  the 
Governor  was  again  requested,  this 
time  by  S^rigny,  to  yield  up  the  fort 
to  superior  numbers. 

"  If  you  refuse  we  will  set  fire  to  the 
place,  and  accord  you  no  quarter." 

"  Set  fire  and  be  d -d  to  you  !" 

responded  Bailey. 

He  then  set  to  work,  with  Smith- 
send,  whose  treatment  at  the  hands  of 
the  French  in  the  affair  of  the  Merchant 
of  Perpetuana  was  still  vividly  before 
htm,  to  animate  the  garrison. 

"Go  for  them,  you  dogs!"  cried 
Bailey.  "Give  it  to  them  hot  and 
heavy ;  I  promise  you  forty  pounds 
apiece  for  your  widows  !  " 

Fighting  in  those  days  was  attended 
by  fearful  mortality,  and  the  paucity  of 
■  pensions  to  the  hero's  family,  perhaps 
made  the  offer  seem  handsome.  At 
any  rate  it  seemed  a  sufficient  incen- 
tive to  the  Company's  men,  who  fought 
like  demons.* 

A  continual  fire  of  guns  and  mortars 
as  well  as  of  muskets  was  kept  up. 
'  The  Canadians  sallied  out  upon  a  num- 
ber of  skirmishes,  filling  the  air  with  a 

frightful  din,  borrowing  from  the  Iro- 
quois their  piercing  war-cries.  In  one 
of  these  sallies  St.  Martin,  one  of  their 
bravest  men,  perished. 

Under  protection  of  a  flag  of  truce, 
S^rigny  came  again  to  demand  a  sur* 
render.  It  was  the  last  time,  he  said, 
the  request  would  be  preferred.  A 
general  assault  had  been  resolved  upon 
by  the  enemy,  who  were  at  their  last 
resort,  living  like  beasts  in  the  wood, 
feeding  on  moss,  and  to  whom  no  ex- 
tremity could  be  odious  were  it  but  an 
exchange  for  their  present  condition. 
They  were  resolved  upon  carrying  the 
fort,  even  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet 
and  over  heaps  of  their  slain. 

Bailey  now  decided  to  yield.  He 
sent  Morrison  to  carry  the  terms  of 
capitulation,  in  which  he  demanded  all 
the  peltries  in  the  fort  belonging  to  the 
Hudson's  Bay  Company.  This  demand 
being  rejected  by  the  enemy,  Bailey 
later  in  the  evening  sent  Henry  Kelsey 
with  a  proposition  to  retain  a  portion 
of  their  armament ;  this  also  was  re- 
fused. There  was  now  nothing  for 
it  but  to  surrender,  Iberville  having 
granted  an  evacuation  with  bag  and 

At  one  o'clock  on  the  following  day,. 
therefore,  the  evacuation  took  place. 
Bailey,  at  the  head  of  his  garrison  and 
a  number  of  the  crew  of  the  wrecked 
Hudson's  Bay  and  six  survivors  of  the 
Hampshire,  marched  forth  from  Fort 
York  with  drums  beating,  flag  flying, 
and  with  arms  and  baggage.  They 
hardly  knew  whither  they  were  to  go, 
or  what  fate  awaited  them.  A  vast  and 
inhospitable  region  greeted  their  eyes, 
and  a  winter  long  to  be  remembered 
had  begun.  But  to  the  French  it 
seemed  as  if  their  spirits  were  undaunt- 
ed, and  they  set  forth  bravely. 

The  enemy  watched  the  retreat  of 
the  defeated  garrison  not  without  ad- 
miration, and  for  the  moment  specula- 
tion was  rife  as  to  their  fate.  But  it 
was  only  for  the  moment.  Too  rejoic- 
ed to  contemplate  anything  but  the  ter- 
mination of  their  own  sufferings,  the 
Canadians  hastened  to  enter  the  tort, 
headed  by  Boisbriant,  late  an  ensign  in 
the  service  of  the  Compagnie  du  Nord. 

Digitized  by  Google 


The  fieur  de  lis  was  flung'  to   the  air  ;  Note. — The  Company  was  debarred  from 

shouts    for    King    Louis    drowned   the  *">■  *"empt  at  reconquesl,    because   of  the 

J           1.^,-rT                   -ijT^.  treaty    lust    concluded    at   Kyswick.    which 

drum-beats   of    the    vanquished;      Fort  yleld^ihe  territory  which  had  been  the  scene 

Nelson    was   once   more    in    the    hands  of  so  much  commerce,  action  and  bloodshed 

of  the  French.  to  the  subjects  of  the  Most  Christian  King. 



(Dedicated  to  our  Smothers  in  South  Africa.  J 

r^  OD  wrote  on  the  face  of  the  Briton, 
^^     "  True  to  my  brother  I  stand  "  ; 
But  the  men  who  sit  in  council 

Hide  the  sig'n  with  the  silver  han,d. 

And  the  brother  that's  yoked  with  the  oxen 

Calls  Briton  to  Briton  in  vain  ; 
For  the  men  who  sit  in  council 

Must  reek  of  the  worldly  gain. 

Fight  first,  is  the  law  of  the  Briton, 

Then  ask  for  the  help  you  need  : 
But  the  men  who  sit  in  council 

Of  the  blood  take  little  heed. 

Ye  have  fought  in  the  outlands,  brothers  ; 

Ye  have  bled,  not  wise  but  well  ; 
Shall  the  men  who  sit  in  council 

Keep  ye  in  a  living  hell  ? 

The  cry  of  the  outlawed  brother 

Thunders  across  the  sea  ; 
And  the  men  who  sit  in  council 

Must  act,  or  cease  to  be. 

W.   A.  Fraser. 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 



T^NGLAND  is  a  land  of  large  towns 
*-'  and  great  manufactories.  Sodense 
is  the  population  that  it  is  said  the 
crops  raised  on  the  farms  each  year 
would  not  feed  the  inhabitants  over 
three  months.  From  this  one  might 
fancy  that  the  towns  liad  overspread 
most  of  the  island  and  that  all  the 
country  there  was  left  would  be  hardly 
more  rural  than  village  suburbs.  But 
in  reality  the  towns  are  only  the  plums 
in  the  pudding,  not  the  substance. 
They  are  minor  interruptions  to  an 
endless  roll  of  cultivated  fields  and 
grazing  lands  sweeping  from  John  o' 
Groat's  to  Land's  End. 

Even  London,  vast  as  it  is,  does  not 
reach  out  so  very  far,  after  all.  You 
step  on  a  train  at  any  of  the  metropol- 
itan stations  and  go  in  whatever  direc- 
tion you  please,  and  it  does  not  take 
many  minutes  to  get  beyond  the  paved 
ways  and  the  crowded  buildings  to 
the  quiet  greenery  of  the  country.  Nor 
do  the  towns,  in  spite  of  their  number 
and  size,  have  any  very  marked  influ- 
ence on  the  country  people  and  their 
ways.  One  would  think  they  would 
exert  a  decided  leavening  power  over 
the  rustic  life  that  would   modernize  it 

and  cause  its  cruder  elements  to  disap- 
pear. This  is  not  the  case.  The  country 
workers  of  England  know  far  less  of 
the  cities  and  feel  their  influence  even 
less  than  their  fellows  here  in  Canada. 
Their  instincts  are  less  nomadic.  They 
live  out  their  lives  in  the  villages  where 
they  were  born.  A  few  miles  close 
around  home  is  often  all  they  see  of  the 
world.  They  cling  to  old  ways  and 
are  primitive  and  unchanging  to  a 
degree.  As  a  result,  each  district 
has  its  dialect  and  its  peculiar  local 
customs  which  survive  generation  after 
generation,  hut  never  are  transferred 
to  other  regions,  not  even  to  those  ad- 

The  soil  of  Great  Britain  is  not  tilled 
by  the  owners,  nor  is  the  tilling  to  any 
considerable  extent  done  under  their 
supervision.  The  land  is  practically 
all  owned  by  the  gentry,  and  they  rent 
it  to  farmers,  who  take  the  entire  re- 
sponsibility of  making  it  return  both 
them  and  their  landlords  a  living.  The 
tenants  decide  what  crops  to  raise, 
they  buy  and  sell,  and  they  keep  what 
is  often  quite  a  little  colony  of  labourers 
constantly  at  work. 

The  labourers  are  at  the  foot  of  the 


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industrial  ladder  and  are  so  dependent 
on  their  weekly  wages  that  any  inter- 
ruption which  throws  them  out  of  work 
even  temporarily  brings  direfully  close 
the  possibility  of  having  to  go  to  the 
workhouse.  Happily  things  are  soar- 
ranged  that  labour  on  the  farms  is 
steady  through  the  year  and  a  helper 
is  never  laid  off  on  account  of  either 
weather  or  season. 

The  daily  life  of  the  worker  is  one  of 
set  hours,  which  are  as  definite  as  those 
of  an  employee  in  a  factory.  If  a  man 
works  overtime,  it  is  by  agreement, 
and  he  gets  extra  pay. 

groomed.  This  done,  the  day's  work 
of  the  carters  and  the  followers  of  the 
plough  is  finished. 

The  soil  in  some  parts  is  so  heavy 
that  four  horses  are  the  rule  to  each 
plough.  The  ploughman  does  not  in 
this  case  attempt  to  guide  his  own 
team,  but  has  a  boy  to  walk  along  be* 
side  the  horses  and  urge  them  on.  These 
boys  earn  their  wages,  I  think,  for  they 
keep  shouting  to  their  teams  all  the 
time,  adding  emphasis  by  an  occasional 
crack  of  the  whip.  However,  the 
shouts  and  the  belabouring  with  the 
lash  seem  purely  matters  of  form,  and 


Of  all  the  labourers  on  a  farm,  the 
ploughmen  and  carters  are  the  earliest 
risers.  They  have  to  be  up  at  four 
o'clock  to  feed  their  horses,  though 
they  are  not  in  the  fields  to  begin  work 
till  half-past  six.  About  the  middle  of 
the  afternoon  they  all  return  to  the 
farmhouse,  the  carters  in  their  carts 
and  the  ploughmen  and  ploughboys 
mounted  side-saddle  on  their  horses, 
which  go  clanking  along  in  single  file 
till  they  reach  the  farmyard  gate;  then 
the  riders  slide  off,  and  their  horses 
with  those  that  are  released  from  the 
carls  tramp  on  to  their  stables,  where 
tbev    are     unharnessed    and    fed    and 

the  horses  step  along  perfectly  oblivi- 
ous to  them,  so  far  as  I  could  see. 

In  former  days  much  of  the  heavy 
farm  work  was  done  with  bullocks. 
Now,  a  bullock  team  is  comparatively 
rare.  Nothing  could  be  rnore  pictur- 
esque. The  oxen,  instead  of  wooden 
neck-yokes,  wear  simple  harness  made 
of  broad  leather  bands,  and  each  crea- 
ture has  on  a  pair  of  great  leather 
blinders  which  give  it  a  look  truly  ante- 
diluvian. As  it  takes  four  bullocks  to 
one  plough,  they  with  the  ploughman 
and  the  ploughboy  make  a  procession 
that  is  quite  impressive. 

In  strange  contrast    with    the    slow 

:y  Google 


bullock  teams,  so  suggestive  ot  an- 
tiquity, one  is  surprised  to  find  that  he 
cannot  travel  far  in  the  English  coun- 
try without  seeing  in  some  wide  field 
a  steam  plough  at  work,  or  a  steam 
thresher  established  next  a  "  corn " 
rick.  Sometimes  you  meet  the  en- 
gines with  all  their  apparatus  in  tow 
steaming  along  the  highway  ;  or  they 
will  come  rattling  and  panting  through 
the  midst  of  the  village  where  you 
happen  to  be  stopping.  They  are  for- 
midable affairs,  and  it  takes  five  men 
to  make  a  working  crew. 

Every  farm  has  its  flock  of  sheep. 
In  some  parts  of  the  country  there  are 
moors  and  commons  and  rough  up- 
lands where  the  sheep  are  turned  loose 
to  graze  ;  but  more  often  they  occupy 
the  ordinary  farm  fields.  Many  far- 
mers keep  them  still  further  confined 
within  a  basket-work  fencing  woven 
from  split  hazel.  These  hurdles,  as 
they  are  called,  are  made  in  light  de- 
tachments, that  allow  them  to  be  readi- 
ly moved,  and  as  soon  as  the  sheep 
have  grazed  one  space  clean,  their  fence 
is  transferred  toenclose  new  ground.  All 
this  was  explained  to  me  one  day  by  a 
shepherd  with  whom  I  stopped  to  talk 
as  he  was  at  his  work  in  a  roadside 
field.       Then   he  drifted  into    personal 

reminiscence  and  said  that  he  had  been 
brought  up  to  tend  sheep.  He  tried 
something  else  fora  while,  but  it  didn't 
suit  him,  and  he  took  up  his  old  work 
again.  He  declared  that  it  was  the 
"  dirtiest,  nastiest,  hardest  "  work 
there  was.  None  of  his  eight  children 
would  take  it  up  ;  no,  nor  any  other 
young  people. 

"Children  goes  to  school  now  tilt 
they  gets  to  be  thirteen  or  fourteen 
years  old,"  he  added  deprecatingly, 
"  and  they  gets  cunning,   you  know." 

The  shepherd  had  a  dog  with  him, 
but  the  dog  did  not  know  much,  and 
never  would,  in  his  master's  opinion, — 
he  "  wa'n't  the  right  kind."  But  he 
"  had  a  dog  afore  him  that  was  as 
sensible  as  a  Christian.  Seemed  like 
he  knew  just  what  I  said.  If  there  was 
some  sheep  way  round  that  hill  you  see 
there,  a  mile  off,  that  dog  'd  go  for 
'em,  if  [  told  him  to,  and  I  could  keep 
on  with  my  work,  and  he'd  be  comin' 
with  'em  by  and  by.  1  never  had  more'n 
to  speak  to  him  or  make  a  motion  with 
my  hand,  and  he'd  understand.  I  had 
him  ten  year,  but  he  died  last  January. 
I  wouldn't  'a'  felt  it  so  much  if  I'd  lost 
one  of  my  children." 

A  few  days  later  I  came  on  a  parly 
ot  sheep-shearers   at  work  in  a  barn. 

:y  Google 


The  big  doors  were  open,  and  the  men 
were  snipping  away  on  the  barn  floor 
with  their  shining  shears.  The  bay  on 
one  !iide  was  full  of  panting  sheep  slill 
unsheared.  On  the  other  side  were 
the  bundles  of  fleeces  and  odds  and 
ends  of  farm  tools  and  rubbish.  When 
a  sheep  had  been  relieved  of  its  coat  it 
was  allowed  to  leap  away  to  its  mates 
in  the  near  field.  The  shearers  work 
in  little  bands  of  six  or  eight  men,  and 
go  from  farm  to  farm  to  do  the  work 
through  a  season  that  lasts  rather  over 
a  month.  At  noon  they  went  out 
under  a  tree  with  their  baskets  and  ate 
dinner  ;  and   while    they  lunched    and 

gossiped  one  of  them  cut  a  companion's 
hair  with  his  sheep-shears. 

All  the  heaviest  farm  work  is  done 
by  men,  but  the  lighter  field  tasks  are 
undertaken  by  women  to  a  considerable 
extent,  though  I  believe  these  are 
always  intermittent,  never  continued 
week  after  week  the  year  through.  My 
first  sight  of  women  workers  was  on 
the  newly  ploughed  grounds  of  early 
spring.  They  were  going  over  the 
fields  with  forks  and  picking  out  all  the  roots.  These  they  piled 
in  little  heaps,  which  later  were  burned. 
Their  working  day  was  seven  or  eight 
hours   long,  and   their  pay  a  shilling. 

They  were  picturesque,  but  the  close 
view  that  showed  them  to  be  nearly  all 
old  and  stumpy-figured  and  slouchy  in 
dress  left  no  room  for  romance. 

Nor  were  the  men  workers  less  rude- 
ly rustic  than  the  women.       Indeed,  it 
seemed  to  me  that  all  the  English  farm 
folk,  by  the   time   they  reached  middle 
age,  became  what  we  would  call  "  char- 
acters."      In    their    looks    they    grew 
knotty  and  gnarled  and  earthy  ;    and 
this  outward  appearance  is  more  or  less 
typical  of  their  minds.      In  features  the 
men   are  strongly    individualized  ;    no 
two  are  alike — a  result   in   part  due  to 
the  many  odd  and  old-fashioned  ways 
they  have   of   trim- 
ming   and    training 
their  beards.    Cloth- 
ing   is    quaint,    and 
their  heavy  footwear 
added  to  their  labor- 
ious lives  makes  the 
movements  of  all  ex- 
cept the 



seem  ungainly. 

As  the  ^ 

■\  ad- 

vances,   the 
are  to  be    found    in 
the  hop  gardens  and 
in  the  wheat  and  hay 
fields.       Wheat,    or 
"corn,"  as  it  is  call- 
ed in  Britain,  is  sown 
in    drills    about    six 
inches  apart,  and  as 
soon  as  it  gets  well 
started,  the  women 
go  through  it  and  hoe  out  the  weeds. 
In  May,  when  the  hop  gardens  are 
bristled  all  over  with  bare,  newly  set 
poles,  around  which  the  vines  are  just 
beginning  to  twine,    there  are    pretty- 
sure    to  be    two    or    three    women    in 
every   such  field  "  'op-tying,"  as   they 
would  say.     This  consists  in  fastening 
:  to  the  poles  so  that  they  will 


climb  a 


on  the  ground.  Most  of  the  women 
wear  wide  brimmed  straw  hats  tied  on 
with  handkerchiefs.  Each  has  a  long 
bag  fastened  to  her  waist,  in  which 
she  carries  the  green  rushes  that  she 
uses  in  tying.     They  work  very  deftlv. 



though  they  keep  their  tongues  going 
as  fast  as  their  hands. 

Once  in  a  visit  of  mine  to  a  hop 
garden,  a  worker  held  her  tawny  arms 
out  toward  me  and  said,  "  I  s'pose 
the  women  don't  get  browned  and 
burned  that-a-way  in  America.  But 
we've  always  been  at  this  same  work, 
and  we'll  keep  right  on  at  it  as  long  as 
we've  got  a  breath  left." 

It  seemed  to  me  they  were  doing 
the  work  with  unusual  celerity.  1  said 
as  much,  and  the  women  explained 
that  this  was  because  they  were  paid 
lor  the  amount  they  did  and  not  for 
their  time  ;  and  she  added  frankly,  "  If 
it  were  day  work,  we'd  stop  that 
much  to  talk  the  'ops  wouldn't  get  tied 
in  all  summer." 

Just  as  I  was  leaving  the  hop  gar- 
den I  heard  a  tree  crash  to  the  earth 
in  a  near  grove,  and  when  1  turned 
aside  to  learn  the  cause  I  found  several 
men  felling  oaks.  They  did  this  by 
sawing  off  the  trunks  low  down,  al- 
most level  with  the  ground.  The 
stumps  left  were  barely  six  inches  high. 
Compared  with  that,  the  two  or  three 
foot  stumps  of  Canada  and  the  great 
gaslies  we  make  in  getting  our  trees 
down    seem  verv  wasteful.     The  oak 

bark  is  sold  to  tanneries,  aad  after  a 
trse  was  felled  ihe  men  wiih  their  axes, 
billhooks  and  o:her  instruments  strip- 
ped it  off  from  both  trunk  and  branches 
down  to  limbs  not  over  an  inch  and  a 
half  in  diameter. 

The  busiest  seasons  on  the  farm  are 
those  of  the  hay,  grain  and  hop  hai 

vests.     Ther 
everyone,     Jun 

ich    the   I 

mployment  then  for 
the      haymaking 

es  have  sometimes 




specially  true  when 
Ihe  early  fields  are  mown  near  the  vil- 
lages. On  pleasant  evenings  half  the 
population  is  out  watching  the  men 
swinging  their  scythes  in  the  slow  fad- 
ing light.  The  children  are  in  the  new- 
mown  grass  having  a  frolic,  tumbling 
about  and  gathering  up  great  armfuls 
to  throw  at  ea,h  other.  Their  mothers 
watch  them  from  over  the  fence  and 
laugh  at  their  haps  and  mishaps.  The 
little  ones  get  hot  and  red-faced,  and 
some  are  hurt  and  shed  tears,  but  it  is 
not  easy  to  induce  them  to  start  for 
home  before  the  men  stop  work  at 
about  ten  o'clock. 

Most  of  the  mowing  in  the  level 
regions  of  England  is  done  with  a 
machine.    Yet  there  are  still  many  old- 



fashioned  farmers  who  clingf  Co  the 
idea  that  a  machine  leaves  about  as 
much  as  it  cuts.  Such  farmers  have 
the  work  done  by  hand  even  if  the 
farm  measures  half  a  thousand  acres. 
The  smaller  farmers  often  have  no 
machine,  because  they  do  not  feel  they 
can  afford  one,  considering  the  amount 
they  would  use  it ;  and  on  most 
farms  there  is  a  certain  amount  of 
land  so  steep  or  so  much  ditched 
that   machine-cutting  is  not  practical. 

The   mowing  with  scythes  is  done  by 
gangs  of  men  who   go    from  farm  to 
farm  doing  the  work.      I  came  across  a 
party  ot  mowers  one  morning  eating  a 
"tenner"  (ten  o'clock  lunch)  under  a 
hedge.      In   hts  basket  each  man  had 
half  a  loaf  of  bread   and  a  large  piece 
of  cheese,  from  which  he  cut  off  such 
lumps    as    his     appetite      demanded. 
Each   man    also    had    a    Jug   of  beer 
brought  from  home,  and  the  party  had 
collectively  a  little  keg  of  ale  that  was 
furnished      by     their 
.      master.     One  of  the 
men  went  up  to  the 
farmhouse  for  this  at 
about     nine    o'clock 
each     morning,     and 
brought  it  back  slung 
upon  a  stick  over  his 
shoulder.      The  men 
after  they  had  dispos- 
ed of  their  bread  and 
cheese,     drank     two 
glasses  each  of  the  ale 
from  a  horn  tumbler, 
and  smoked  a  pipe  of 
tobacco  in   between. 
When       their       half 
hour  was  up  they  all 
whetted    their   broad 

:y  Google 


blades  and  went  to  norka^ain.  They 
told  me  that,  in  their  opinions,  mow- 
ing machines  had  had  their  day,  and 
were  destined  everywhere  to  be  more 
and  more  displaced  by  hand  vortc. 

Tedders  and  horse-rakes  are  much 
less  common  than  with  us,  particularly 
the  former.  Turning  and  raking  are 
largely  done  by  hand,  usually  by  the 
women,  who  also  roll  the  hay  into  tum- 

When  the 
work  in  the 
hayRelds  is 
well  under 
way  on  a  big 
farm,  the  op- 
erations take 
on  a  decided 
aspect     of 

bustle.  The 
most  typical 
haying  scene 
of  this  sort 
that  I  wit- 
nessed was  in 
the    broad 

waggons,  one 
always  at  the 

ing'  while  the 
other  was  in 
the  field.  Two 
horses  were 
hitched  tan- 
dem to  each 
waggon,  and 

a    ploughboy  '"  *"  oli> 

ied each  pair  to  drive  them.  Two 
men  were  on  the  load,  three  pitched 
on,  and  two  old  men  with  big  rakes 
followed  the  load  and  g'athered  the 
scattering.  At  the  rick  were  two  men 
unloading,  three  on  the  rick  receiving 
the  hay  as  it  was  pitched  up,  and  two 
or  three  others  getting  drinks  of  beer 
out  of  the  bottles  in  their  baskets  that 
lay  under  a  convenient  elm.  Two  old 
fellows    with    fag-hooks  were  reaping 

the  grass  left  by  the  machines  along 
the  hedges  ;  two  old  women  and  an 
old  man  were  rolling  up  the  windrows, 

and  a  young  fellow  on  a  horse-rake 
was  going  leisurely  back  and  forth 
across  the  field.  That  makes  twenty 
people.  It  was  a  pretty  sight — the 
busy  harvest  field  among  the  great, 
sturdy  English  elms,  with  the  ivied 
walls  and  tall  chimneys  of  "the  big 
house"  rising  on  the  slope  beyond. 

the  "Squire," 
the  occupant 
of  the  big 
house,  comes 
into  the  hay- 
field  and 
takes  part  in 
the  work.  He 
gets  off  his 
coat  and 
pitches  on 
the  hay  with 
great  gusto 
for  perhaps  a 
couple  of 
hours,  chaffs 
with  the  men, 
drinks  beer 
with  them, 
and  makes 
himself  as 
able  as  pos- 
sible. The 
men  feel  that 
he  is  a  good 

descend    to 

work  on  their 

level,    and    it 

'ARMHOL'SE.  inclines  them 

faithfully.  But  it  would  not  do  lor  the 
squire  to  work  every  day  with  them  ; 
that  would  lower  him  at  once  in  their 
estimation.  The  work  is  beneath  him  ; 
he  must  do  it  only  for  fun. 

The  term  "  harvest  time,"  in  Eng- 
land, means  more  particularly  that  part 
of  summer  when  the  wheat  and  other 
cereals  are  garnered.  There  is  a  repe- 
tition then  of  the  busy  scenes  of  hay- 
making.    After  the  harvest  the  farmer 

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turns  hi:i  pig's  out  "  earshin "  in  the 
stubble  lields,  where  they  are  allowed 
to  roam  >ix  or  seven  hours  each  day 
till  they  have  picked  up  all  the  stray 
ears  of  grain.  Often  there  are  sixty 
or  seveniy  pigs  in  a  drove,  with  a  boy 
or  two  along  to  "  mind"  them. 

Hop-picking  begins  wiih  the  first 
days  of  September.  But  then  the  blos- 
soming bright  iie->s  of  the  earlier  months 
is,  tlie  grain  is  nearly  all  reaped, 
the  hay  har- 
vested, and 
the  fi<;lds  are 
bre.  Vet  many 
flowers  still 
linger  along 
the  roadsides, 
and  ihe  hed- 
ges are  enliv- 
ened  by  I  he 
scarletof  hips 
and  haws. 
Thereis  much 
land  recently 
and  many  new 
ricks  are  in 
the  field  cor- 
ners, looking 
verv  tidy  with 
their  roofs  of 
fre^h  thatch 
glistening  in 
the  sunlight. 

I  was  eager 
to  see  all  that 
I  could  of  the 
hop  harvest ; 

and    on^   day  -grandad  hcpini 

when    I    was 

passing  a  hop  kiln  and  noticed  smoke 
issuing  from  its  squat  chimney,  I 
stopped  to  investigate.  A  small  door 
at  one  end  was  open,  and  I  went  in, 
but  I  did  not  slay  long.  Three  men 
in  the  dim  interior  were  feeding  the 
fires  with  charcoal  and  brimstone,  and 
the  air  was  so  sulphurous  1  was  glad 
to  hurry  out  to  escape  choking.  1 
got  little  notion  of  the  process  of 
hop-drying.  The  men  had  pointed 
to  a  ladder,  and  said  1  might  go 
upstairs    but    I    was    already    getting 

anxious    for  a  change  ot    air  and  re- 
fused.     Besides,   they  winked  at  each 
other  suspiciously,   and,    I   think,    had 
I  gone  up,  they  would   have   kept    me 
there  till  1  tipped  them.     At  any  rate 
that  is  one  of  the  pleasantries  that    the 
hop-drier     is     privileged     to    indulge 
\\ilhany   visitor  he  can  catch  in  that 
way.      I    asked  one  of    the  men  who 
followed  me  to  the  door  where  1   could 
see    the    hop-picking,     and    he     said, 
"About  amile 
lo the  south." 
1    questioned 
him    whether 
I    had    better 
go  around  by 
the  road  or  try 
a  more  direct 
way    across 
lots.      The 
man  replied 
in    the    blufT, 
rude    manner 
that  one    too 
often     finds 
among     the 
rural  English, 
"You've  pot 

Go  there  any 
way  ye. want 

1  found  the 

work  in  afield 
that  sloped 
down  into  a 
little     valley. 



as  fitst  as  needed,  and  the  pick- 
ers were  pulling  off  the  hops  into 
great  baskets.  Men,  women  and  chil- 
dren were  all  at  work.  The  old 
women  and  the  grandfathers  were 
there,  and  so  were  the  babies,  tucked 
up  in  blankets  and  wraps  and  lying' 
quite  contented  on  the  ground  among- 
the  shadows  of  the  festooned  poles. 
It  was  a  pleasant  scene  there  amidst 
the  greenery — nimble  fingers  flying, 
always  the  voices  calling  and  the  hum 
of    gossip,     the    rustic  costumes,  the 

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children  playing  or  helping  with  in- 
dustrious clumsiness,  and  in  it  all  the 
rustle  of  the  vines  and  the  wholesome 
odour  of  the  hops.  It  makes  a  healthy 
out-of-doors  holiday,  and  the  people 
flock  from  far  and  near  into  the  hop 
regions  to  enjoy  it.  When  the  journey 
is  short  they  come  in  great  farm 
waggons  with  all  their  bags  and  bag- 
gage prepared  to  cook  their  own  food 
and  sleep  in  barns  and  sheds.  They 
shout  and  joke  as  they  go  along  in 
spile  of  the  plodding  slowness  of  the 
journey  and  the  apparent  discomfort 
of  the  vehicle.  The  fact  that  no  one 
is  too  young  to  go  is  attested  by  the 
presence  of  one  or  two  baby  carriages 
dragging  along  at  the  rear  of  the 

A  vast  army  of  hop-pickers  come 
by  train  from  London  at  this  time. 
They  are  the  scum  of  (he  city,  a 
dilapidated  crowd  of  old  and  young, 
who  arrive  heavily  loaded  with  their 
household  goods,  and  make  a  very 
motley  scene  at  the  railroad  stations, 
bowed  with  their  sacks  and  baskets. 

The  wages  of  a  labourer  in  the  poor- 
er parts  of  England  are  ten  or  twelve 
shillings  a  week  ;  while  in  the  more 
favoured  districts  he  is  paid  double  that 
amount.  Work  begins  in  summer  at 
six    o'clock.      At    eight  the     labourer 

stops  half  an  hour  for  breakfast,  at 
ten  he  eats  a  luncheon,  and  at  noon 
takes  an  hour  to  rest  and  eat  dinner. 
His  work  is  done  at  five,  when  he 
trudges  home  to  supper.  Just  before 
he  goes  to  bed  he  disposes  of  one 
more  luncheon,  and  the  day  is  ended. 

A  man  could  hardly  live  and  sup- 
port a  family  on  ten  or  twelve 
shillings  a  week,  were  it  not  that  in 
summer  he  always  has  a  chance  to  do 
"task  work."  While  this  lasts,  he 
works  extra  hard  and  overtime,  and 
earns  six  or  eight  shillings  a  day.  He 
will  \t.-ty  Hkely  be  out  at  four  in  the 
morning  and  keep  at  it  till  nine  or  ten 
at  night. 

The  extra  wages  a  man  and  his  wife 
make   in  summer  task  work  are   used 
to  buy  shoes  and  clothing.     The  ordin- 
ary wages  are  pretty  much  used  up  in 
paying  rent  and   in   buying    the  daily 
necessities    of    food  and  drink.     The 
fare  is  always  rough  and  poor,  and  a 
couple  of  pounds  or  so  of  bacon  is  all 
the  meat  a  family  will  eat  in  a  week. 
Few  make  any  provision  for  sickness, 
and    when    sickness 
comes  the  labourer  is 
compelled  to  rely  on 
the  parish  doctor  and 
parochial  charity. 

Yet,  in  spite  of 
small  earnings,  there 
are  a  goodly  number 
among  the  labourers 
who  save  money. 
With  some  it  is  a 
blind  habit,  with  oth- 
ers it  is  simply  miser- 
liness, and  with  still 
others  it  is  ambition. 
One  does  not  see 
much  chance  for 
hoarding  on  the 
wages  received,  but 
the  thrifty  are  always 
on  the  lookout  to 
save  their  pennies. 
Persons  who  receive  parish  help  are 
sometimes  found  to  have  aconsiderable 
sum  laid  by  when  they  die. 

Labourers  marry  early.  The  wife 
has  usually  been  in  domestic  service, 
and   often  contributes  the  larger  half 



of  the  little  ready  money  that  is  spent 
in  getting  the  scanty  home  furnishings. 
Very  little  is  bought  in  the  years  that 
follow.  A  replenishing  of  hlankets 
and  bed  linen,  when  it  takes  place,  is 
quite  apt  to  be  from  the  charities  which 
are  distributed  at  Christmas  time. 

It  is  the  rule  rather  than  the  excep- 
tion that  the  labourer's  cottage  is 
overcrowded.  Even  when  there  are 
eight  or  nine  children  in  a  family,  there 
may  be  no  more  than  two  sleeping 
rooms — a  condition  that  is  plainly  bad 
both  morally  and  physically. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  views  of 
how  the  labourer  lives  and  how  it  all 
ends,  I  got  one  day  from  a  village 
shoemaker.  My  Canadian  shoes  had 
early  given   out  on  the  gritty  English 

roads,  and  to  make  them  once  more 
serviceable  I  sought  cut  this  cobbler. 
While  he  worked  on  the  shoes  1  sat 
and  talked  with  him.  1  was  asking 
about  the  farm  workers  when  the  shoe- 
maker looked  out  of  the  window  and 
said  :  "There's  a  man  just  goin'  past. 
He's  been  workin'  from  early  morning, 
ten  hours,  for  his  master.  Now  he's 
goin'  home  to  have  tea,  and  work  in 
his  garden  awhile,  and  then  he'll  be 
goin'  out  again  for  two  or  three  hours 
to  help  his  wife,  'op-tying.  He  and  his 
wife  has  to  work  all  they  can  to  get 
along.  They  couldn't  live  on  their 
weekly  wages.  They  has  to  do  task 
work  to  earn  something  extra,  or 
they'd  have  to  go  to  the  workhouse. 
That  man  in  harvest  just  slivers  into  it 




and  works  night  and  day,  and  the  wife 
helps.  The  employers  ! — they  don't 
care  whether  a  man  lives  or  dies,  and 
if  they  get  a  man  down  they  tread  on 
him.  They  can  do  anything  to  a  man 
or  to  his  wife  or  children — and  they 
does  pretty  roughish  things  sometimes 
— and  the  man  daren't  make  any  com- 
plaini.  If  he  does,  come  Saturday 
night,  [here's  his  wages,  and  he's  not 
wanted  any  more.  Then  where's  he  to 
go,  and  where's  his  next  week's  food 
to  come  from  ? 

"  Yes,  these  labourers  travel  from 
hedge  to  hedge  till  they  are  wore  out, 
and  they're  so  dependent  on  their 
master  that  some  of  'em  are  afraid  to 
say  their  soul's  their  own.  As  soon  as 
they  can't  do  a  fair  day's  work  they 
are  sent  to  the  workhouse.  Vou  can 
depend  on  't  they  don't  stay  there  long 
before  they're  brought  home  in  a  little 
four-wheel  trap,  ;ind  buried  in  the 

house  's 
worse  than 
the  grave,  to 
the  thinking 
of  a  good 
many  of  the 
There  was- 
poor  old  Tom 
that     lived 

next  to  the 
chapel.  He's 
dead  these 
two  years 
now.  He  was 
gettin'  old 
and  couldn't 
support  him- 
self, but  heal' 
ways  said  he 
wouldn't  go 
to  the  work- 
house,—  and 
hedidn't.  The 
day  they 
came  to  take 

"  The  treatment  's  not  overgrand  at 
the  workhouse,  and  they're  not  over- 
fed there  either,  and  they  get  no  beer 
or  other  liquors.  Then  the  men  and 
women,  except  the  older  people,  are 
all  separated.  A  man  would  never  see 
his  wife  there,  only  by  chance  in  the 
yard.  The  preachers  say,  '  What  God 
hath  joined  together,  let  no  man  put 
ussunder;'  but  they  don't  pay  much 
attention   to  that  saying  at  the  work- 

This  discourse  of  the  shoemaker's 
made  me  eager  to  see  some  paupers 
for  myself,  and  a  few  days  later  I  had 
the  chance.  It  was  on  the  occasion 
of  a  picnic  given  to  the  workhouse 
folk  by  a  gentleman  of  a  neighbouring 
village.  The  paupers  numbered 
thirty  or  forty,  the  men  in  dark  caps 
and  white  smock-frocks,  and  the 
1  blue  gowns  and  while 
They  were  very  neat,  yet 
they  had  a 
look,  as  if 
capacity  'and 
energy  were 
pretty  well 
gone.  It  was 
a  look  very 
the  tough, 
brownness  of 
the  old  men 
still  at  work 
in  the  fields. 
I  was  told 
that  one  rea- 
son for  the 
antipathy  of 
the  poor  to 
the  work- 
house is  that 
there   a    per- 

pelled  tokeep 
clean  and  be 

habits.  Clean- 
liness is  a 
bugbear,  and 



mon  saying  when  a  man  is  entering 
the  workhouse,  "Well,  he  won't  last 
long.  They'll  soon  wash  him  to  death 
when  he  gets  there." 

The  gentleman  who  entertained 
the  paupers  in  his  park  had  them 
brought  from  the  workhouse  in  sev- 
eral waggons  arched  over  wiih  greens, 
and  at  the  foot  of  his  lawn  he  put  up 
a  big  tent  in  which  was  spread  a 
grand  feast.  After  the  servants  had 
served  dinner,  the  old  people  left  the 
tent  and  disposed  themselves  com- 
fortably on  the  grass  and  seats  under 
the  trees.  Most  of  the  old  men  gath- 
ered in  the  shade  of  a  great  beech, 
where  tobacco  and  a  basket  of  clay 
pipes  were  passed  around. 

The  tobacco  was  a  treat.  Men  in 
the  workhouse  are  not  allowed  to- 
bacco unless  their  age  is  over  seventy. 
Even  those  who  have  an  allowance 
are  not  satisfied,  and  it  is  the  custom 
for  visiting  friends  to  bring  along  a 
little  tobacco  for  a  present  when  they 
call  at  the  workhouse.     As  for  the  old 

they  complain  about  their 
allowance  of  tea.  They  are  all  very 
fond  of  the  teapot  by  the  time  they  go 
to  the  workhouse,  and  when  friends 
call  on  one  of  the  women  paupers 
they  present  her  with  an  ounce  of  tea, 
a  little  sugar,  and  possibly  a  few  new- 
laid  eggs. 

While  the  old  people  were  lounging 
and  smoking,  a  red-uniformed  band 
of  music  arrived,  and  spent  two 
hours  playing  to  the  company.  The 
gentleman  who  was  the  patron  of  the 
day  joined  in  the  paupers'  celebralion 
to  the  extent  of  lunching  with  a  parly 
of  friends  on  the  other  side  of  ihe  wide 
lawn.  He  thought  the  old  people 
would  enjoy  themselves  best  if  left 
alone.  They  were  not  at  all  demon- 
stralive — their  vitality  had  ebbed  too 
low  for  that  ;  but  in  their  way  they 
found  it  a  grand  occasion — one  to  talk 
of  for  weeks  afterward.  Like  all  good 
things,  however,  it  had  to  have  an  end, 
and  at  eight  o'clock  the  paupers  were 
helped  into  their  green-arboured  wag- 

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Ifons  and  sent  back  to  the  workhouse. 
In  summing  up  the  labourer's  life  as 
a  whole,  it  cannot  be  said  to  lack  a 
certain  cheerfulness  and  even  gaiety, 
in  spite  of  hardships  and  in  spite  of 
the  shadow  that  the  workhouse  casts 
over  the  elderly  and  decrepit.  Wants 
are  few  and  cares  sit  lightly.  It  !s 
characteristic  of  the  labouring  folk  that 
they  live  day  by  day.  If  they  have 
work  and  food  and  housing  now,  they 
are  not  apprehensive  about  the  mor- 
row. It  is  people  who  have  much  to 
lose  that  worry.  Happiness,  loo,  de- 
pends largely  on  companionship,  and 
that,  both  in  their  daily  work  and  in 
their    leisure,    the    English    peasantry 

never  lack.  Loneliness  is  not  a  fea- 
ture of  farm  life  in  England,  as  it  too 
often  is  here  in  America.  The  village 
gossip,  the  gatherings  at  the  inn  tap- 
rooms, the  services  at  church  and 
chapel,  and  the  holidays  and  gala 
occasions  furnish  constantly  recurring 
change  and  relaxation.  The  lives  of 
the  labourers  are  far  from  being  empty 
and  far  from  being  uninteresting  to 
themselves.  Indeed,  in  my  acquaint- 
ance with  them,  I  found  very  few 
who  had  any  desire  to  exchange  the 
good  of  which  they  knew  in  beautiful 
Old  England  for  the  affluent  uncer- 
tainties of  our  great  colony  beyond 
the  .-^eas. 

By  L.   M.    Monlgomery. 

''PHE  fifth  heat  in  the  free-for-all  was 
■^  just  over.  "  Lu-Lu  "  had  won, 
and  the  crowd  on  the  grand  stand  and 
the  hangers-on  around  the  track  were 
cheering  themselves  hoarse.  Clear 
through  the  noisy  clamour  shrilled  a 
woman's  crx. 

"Ah — I     have    dropped    mv    score- 

A  man  in  front  ot  her  turned. 

"  I  have  an  extra  one,  madame. 
Will  you  accept  it?" 

Her  small,  modish ty-gloved  hand 
closed  eagerly  on  it  before  she  lifted 
her  eyes  to  his  face.  Both  started  con- 
vulsively. The  man  turned  very  pale, 
but  the  woman's  ripe-tinted  face  col 
oured  darklv. 

:y  Google 

"  You  ?"  she  faltered. 

His  lips  parted  in  the  coldly-grave 
smile  she  remembered  and  hated. 

"  Vou  are  not  glad  to  see  me,"  he 
said  calmly,  "  but  that,  1  suppose,  was 
not  to  be  expected.  I  did  not  come 
here  to  annoy  you.  This  meeting  is  as 
unexpected  to  me  as  to  you.  I  had  no 
suspicion  that  for  the  last  half-hour  1 
had  been  standing  next  to  my — " 

She  interrupted  him  by  an  imperious 

shapeless  oddity.  The  backers  of 
"  Mascot,"  the  rival  favourite,  looked 

The  woman  noticed  nothing  of  all 
this.  She  was  small,  very  pretty,  still 
young,  and  gowned  in  a  quite  unmis- 
takable way.  She  studied  the  man's 
profile  furtively.  He  looked  older  than 
when  she  had  seen  him  last — there 
were  some  silver  threads  gleaming  in 
his  close-clipped  dark  hair  and  short 

"She  studied  the  n 

9  profile  furtively." 

gesture.  Still  clutching  the  score-card 
she  half  turned  from  him.  Again  he 
smiled,  this  time  with  a  tinge  of  scorn, 
and  shifted  his  eyes  to  the  track. 

None  of  the  people  around  them  had 
noticed  the  little  by-play.  All  eyes 
were  on  the  track,  which  was  being 
cleared  for  the  first  heat  of  another 
race.  The  free-for-all  horses  were 
being  led  away  blanketed.  The  crowd 
cheered  "  Lu-Lu  "  as  she  went  past,  a 

pointed  beard.  Otherwise  there  was 
little  change  in  the  quiet  features  and 
somewhat  stern  grey  eyes.  She  won- 
dered if  he  had  cared  at  all. 

They  had  not  met  for  five  years.  She 
shut  her  eyes  and  looked  in  on  her 
past.  It  all  came  back  very  vividly. 
She  had  been  eighteen  when  they  were 
married — a  gay,  high-spirited  girl  and 
the  season's  beauty.  He  was  much 
older   and    a    quiet,    serious    student. 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 



Her  Triends  had  wondered  why  she 
married  him — someiimesshe  wondered 
herseir,  but  she  had  loved  him,  or 
thought  so. 

The  niarriage  had  been  an  unhappy 
one.  She  was  fond  of  society  and 
gaiety,  he  wanted  quiet  and  seclusion. 
She  was  impulsive  and  impatient,  he 
deliberate  and  grave.  The  strong'  wills 
clashed.  After  two  years  of  an  un- 
bearable sort  of  life  ihey  had  separated 
— quietly,  and  without  scandal  of  any 
sort.  She  had  wanted  a  divorce,  but 
he  would  not  agree  to  that,  so  she  had 
taken  her  own  independent  fortune 
and  gone  back  to  her  own  way  of  life. 
In    the    followini;;:    five  years    she    had 

succeeded  in  burying  all  remembrance 
well  out  of  sight.  No  one  knew  if  she 
were  satisfied  or  not ;  her  world  was 
charitable  to  her  and  she  lived  a  gay 
and  quite  irreproachable  life.  She 
wished  that  she  had  not  come  lo  the 

It  1 

tmg  I 

hoy  loft  llie  grand  stand  log-^llier.' 

She  opened  her  eyes  wearily  ; 
the  dusty  track,  the  flying  horses,  the 
gay  dresses  of  the  women  on  the  grand 
stand,  the  cloudless  blue  sky,  the  bril- 
liant September  sunshine,  the  purple 
distances  all  commingled  in  a  glare  that 
made  her  head  ache.  Before  it  all  she 
saw  the  tall  figure  by  her  side,  his  face 
turned  from  her,  watching  the  track 

She  wondered  with  a  vague  curiosity 
ced  him  to  come  to  the 
ch  things  were  not  greatly 
:.  Evidently  their  chance 
d  not  disturbed  him.  It  was 
he  did  not  care.  She  sighed 
arily  and  closed  her  eyes. 
heat  was  over  he  turned  to 

ask  how  you  have  been 
e  we  met  last?  Vou  are 
tremely  well.  Has  Vanity 
in  any  degree?" 
■  angry  at  herself  and  him. 
I  her  careless  society  manner 
red  composure  gone?  She 
lod  hysterical.  What  if  she 
rst  into  tears  before  the 
.d — before  those  coldly  crit- 
yes  ?  She  almost  hated  him. 
.■hy  should  it?  I  have  found 
isant^ — and  I  have  been  well 
I.  And  you?" 
d  down  the  score  carefully 
he  replied, 

?  Oh,  a  book-worm  and  re- 
ilways  leads  a  placid  life.  I 
never  cared  for  excitement, 
you  know,  I  came  down 
here  to  attend  a  sale  of 
some  rare  editions,  and  a 
well-meaning  friend  drag- 
ged me  oui  to  see  the  races. 
I  find  it  rather  interesting. 
I  must  confess,  much  more 
so  thari  I  should  have  fan- 

.  cied.       Sorry  I    can't  stay 

til  the  end.      1   must  go 

:y  Google 

as  soon  as  the  free-for-Kll  is  over,  if 
not  before.  1  have  backed  'Mascot;' 
you  ?  " 

"'Lu-Lu'"  she  answered  quickly 
— it  almost  seemed  defiantly.  How 
horribly  unreal  it  was — this  carrying' 
on  of  small  talk,  as  if  they  were  the 
merest  of  chaoce-met  acquaintances  I 
"She  belongs  to  a  friend  of  mine,  so 
lam  naturally  interested." 

"  She  and  '  Mascot '  are  ties  now — 
both  have  won  two  heats.  One  more 
for  either  will  decide  it.  This  is  a 
good  day  for  the  races.  Excuse  me." 
He  leaned  over  and  brushed  a  scrap 
of  paper  from  her  g'rey  cloak.  She 
shivered  slightly. 

"You  are  cold!  This  stand  is 

"  I  am  not  at  all  cold,  thank  you. 
What  race  is  this  ?-— oh  <  tke  three- 
minute  one." 

She  bent  forward  with  assumed  in- 
terest to  watch  the  scoring.  She  was 
breathing  heavily.  There  were  tears 
in  her  eyes — she  bit  her  lips  savagely 
and  glared  at  the  track  until  they  ^vere 

Presently  he  spoke  again,  ia  the 
low,  even  tone  demanded  by  circum- 

"This  is  a  curious  meeting,  is  it 
not? — quite  a  flavor  of  romance  !  By- 
the-way,  do  you  read  as  many  novels 
as  ever?" 

She  fancied  there  was  mockery  in 
his  tone.  She  remembered  how  very 
frivolous  he  used  to  consider  her  novel- 
reading.  Besides,  she  resented  the 
personal  tinge.  What  right  had  he  ? 
"Almost  as  many,"  she  answered 

"1  was  very  intolerant,  wasn't  I?" 
he  sfud  after  a  pause.  "  Vou  thought 
so— you  were  right.  You  have  been 
happier  since  you — left  me  ?  " 

"Yes,"  she  said  defiantly,  looking 
straight  into  his  eyes. 

"  And  you  do  not  regret  it  ?  " 
He  bent  down   a  little.     His  sleeve 
brushed  against  her  shoulder.     Some- 
thing in  his  face   arrested  the  Answer 
she  meant  to  make. 

"  1 — I — did  not  say  that,"  she  mur- 
■nured  fointly. 

iET  331 

There  was  a  burst  of  cheering. 
The  free-for-all  horses  were  being 
brought  out  for  the  sixth  heat.  She 
turned  away  to  watch  them.  The 
scoring  began,  and  seemed  likely  to 
have  no  end.  She  was  tired  of  it  all. 
It  didn't  matter  a  pin  to  her  whether 
"  Lu-Lu  "  or  "  Mascot"  won.  What 
did  matter  t  Had  Vanity  Fair  after  all 
been  a  satisfying  exchange  for  love  ? 
He  had  loved  her  once,  and  they  had 
been  happy  at  first.  She  had  never 
before  said,  even  in  her  own   heart : 

"  I  am  sorry,"  but suddenly  she 

felt  his  hand  on  her  shoulder,  and 
looked  up.  Their  eyes  met.  He 
stooped  and  said  almost  in  a  whisper: 

"  Will  you  come  back  to  me?" 

"I  don't  know,"  she  whispered 
breathlessly,  as  one  half  fascinated. 

"We  were  both  to  blame— but  I 
the  most.  I  was  too  hard  on  you — 
I  ought  to  have  made  more  allowance. 
We  are  wiser  now  both  of  us.  Come 
back  to  me — my  wife." 

His  tone  was  cold  and  his  face  ex- 
pressionless. It  was  on  her  lips  to  cry 
out  "  No,"  passionately. 

But  the  slender,  scholarly  hand  on 
her  shoulder  was  trembling  with  the 
intensity  of  his  repressed  emotion. 
He  did  care,  then.  A  wild  caprice 
flashed  into  her  brain.  She  sprang 

"  See,"  she  cried,  "  they're  off  now. 
This  heat  will  probably  decide  the  race. 
If  '  Lu-Lu  '  wins  1  will  not  go  back  to 
you,  if  '  Mascot '  does  1  will.  That  is 
my  decision." 

He  turned  paler,  but  bowed  in  as- 
sent. He  knew  by  bitter  experience 
how  unchangeable  her  whims  were, 
how  obstinately  she  clung  to  even  the 
most  absurd. 

She  leaned  forward  breathlessly. 
The  crowd  hung  silently  on  the  track. 
"Lu-Lu"  and  "Mascot"  were  neck 
and  neck,  getting  in  splendid  work. 
Half-way  round  the  course  "Lu-Lu" 
forged  half  a  neck  ahead,  and  her 
backers  went  mad.  But  one  woman 
dropped  her  head  in  her  hands  and 
dared  look  no  more.  One  man  with 
white  face  and  -set  lips  watched  the 
track  unswervingly. 

Digitized  by  Google 



Ag^ain  "Mascot"  crawled  up,  inch 
by  inch.  They  were  on  the  home 
stretch,  they  were  equal,  the  cheering 
broke  out,  then  silence,  then  another 
terrific  burst,  shouts,  yells  and  clap- 
pings— "Mascot"  had  won  the  free- 
for-all.     In    the   front   row    a    woman 

in  the  wind.  She  straightened  her 
scarlet  hat  and  readjusted  her  veil  un- 
steadily. There  was  a  smile  on  her 
lips  and  tears  in  her  eys.  No  one 
noticed  her.  A  man  beside  her  drew 
her  hand  through  his  arm  in  a  quiet 
proprietary   fashion.      They    left 

stood  up,  swayed  and  shaken  as  a  leaf     grand  stand  together. 



By  Joanna  E.  Wood,  Author  of  "  The  Untempered  Wind",  "Judith  Moore",  etc. 

DicBST  Of  Prbvious  Chapters.— Sidney  Martin,  a  younff  Bostonian,  is  visiting  the 
Lansing  farm.  Mr.  Lansing  is  a  widower,  but  has  living  with  him  his  daughter  Vasfati  and 
hia  niece  Mabella,  two  very  charming  maidens.  Lansing  Lansing,  a  cousin  of  both  these 
girls,  is  in  love  with  sweet,  honest  Mabella ;  while  Sidney  becomes  enamoured  of  the 
proud,  stately  Vashti.  Bui  Vashti  is  in  love  with  her  cousin  Lansing,  or  "  Lanty,"  as  he 
is  called,  and  she  is  deadly  jealousy  of  Mabella's  happiness.  In  this  state  of  mind  she 
accepts  Sidney's  attentions,  and  ultimately  decides  to  marry  him.  She  makes  him  pro- 
mise, however,  that  he  will  never  take  her  away  from  Dole,  the  little  village  close  at 
hand,  and  asks  bim  also  to  train  himself  for  the  position  of  successor  to  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Didymus,  the  present  Congregational  minister  and  sole  clergyman  of  the  village.  Vash- 
Ij's  idea  is  that  as  wife  of  the  minister  she  will  be  mistress  of  Dole  with  all  the  power  for 
which  her  flinty,  worldly  soul  craves.  And  when  this  "  Daughter  of  Witches  "  so  influences 
this  nature-worshipping  young  man  Ihat  he  consents  to  enter  the  holy  profession,  she  feels 
that  her  hour  of  vengeance  will  not  be  long  delayed.  Two  years  allcrwards  at  the  death- 
bed of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Didymus,  Sydney  and  Vashti  are  married.     Lanty  and  Mabella  had  been 


e  previously. 


FOR  six  months  Sidney  had  been 
minister  of  Dole,  and  already  his 
people  adored  him.  Never  had  they 
beard  such  sweet  and  winning  sermons; 
never  had  they  realized  the  beauty  antl 
tenderness  of  the  gospel,  never  had 
they  gone  to  their  church  with  such 
assurance  of  comfort  as  they  did  now. 
As  Sidney  learned  to  know  them 
better  and  better,  he  was  enabled  to 
comprehend  more  and  more  fully  the 
narrow  lives  they  led,  the  petty  pover- 
ties which  afflicted  them,  the  sore 
struggle  it  was  for  most  of  them  to 
make  ends  meet.  Swayed  by  his  great 
sympathy  he  sought  in  Holy  Writ  for 
all  the  words  of  comfort,  peace,  and 
promise.  He  read  these  passages  to 
them  in  a  voice  which  yearned  towards 
them  from  his  very  heart,  and  then  he 
would  close  the  Bible  and  preach  to 
them  lessons  of  the  sweetest  and 
purest  morality,  illuminated  by  illustra- 

tions drawn  from  the  fields  they  tilled, 
from  the  woods,  and  from  the  varied 
phenomena  ot  natural  life  as  it  was 
manifested  about  them ;  his  discourses 
came  to  them  with  a  sweet  and  home- 
like sense  of  comfort.  Dumbly  and  in- 
stinctively they  loved  their  barren  hills 
and  meagre  meadows  with  a  great 
love,  and  it  seemed  to  them  that  now 
they  were  being  given  reasons  for  the 
love  which  was  in  them. 

If  Sidney  did  not  preach  Christ  he 
at  least  preached  His  word — and  in  His 
spirit,  and  the  people  to  whom  he 
preached  never  doubted  of  the  chaos 
which  was  in  the  soul  of  their  teacher. 
Their  teacher  who  night  and  day  kept 
their  joys  and  sorrows  in  his  heart. 

Sidney  was  walking  home  through 
the  powdery  snow  to  the  parsonage 
when  he  met  Temperance ;  her  face 
was  set,  and  she  was  evidently  in  some 
distress  of  mind.  One  of  Sidney's  first 
pastoral  duties  had  been  to  marry  Tem- 

:y  Google 



perance  and  Nathan.  The}'  were  estab- 
lished in  the  old  Lansing  house,  for 
Nathan  had  rented  the  farm.  Old  Mr. 
Lansing  lived  with  them. 

"  Well,  Temperance  \ "  said  Sidneyt 
"  It's  an  age  since  I've  seen  you;  how's 
everyone  with  you  ?  " 

"Oh,  well,"saidTemperance;  "but" 
— looking  at  him  shrewdly — "it  don't 
seem  to  me  that  you  are  over  and  above 
well  yourself," 

Sidney  laughed  carelessly. 

"Oh — I'm  always  well — except  for 
the  headaches,  and  Vashti  cures 

"  Yes,  I'll  be  bound  she  does,"  said 
Temperance  irascibly.  ' '  You  ain't  got 
a  mite  of  sense  neither  one  of  you  ; 
them  passes  and  performances  ain't 
g'ood  for  you.  I  don't  believe  in  'em, 
and  for  a  minister  t  Sakes  I  they  say 
you  are  an  angel  in  the  village  ;  take 
care  you  don't  get  to  be  one." 

"  Then  you  have  your  doubts  about 
my  being  angelic  ?  "  said  Sidney  laugh- 

Temperance  coloured  but  did  not 
gfive  way. 

"Men's  men,"  she  said;  "only 
some  of  them  are  better  nor  others," 
then  she  paused  and  grew  grave  and 
troubled  again. 

"  You've  something  worrying  you," 
said  Sidney  kindly ;  "what  is  it!*" 

"We!!,"  said  Temperance,  "  I  don't 
know  if  I'm  over  anxious  or  not  but — 
have  you  heard  anything  about  Lanty 
lately  ?  " 

"  Yes,  1  did,"  admitted  Sidney,  "and 
I  was  terribly  sorry  to  hear  it.  Do  you 
^suppose  it  can  be  true  ?  " 

"  ]  don't  want  to  believe  it,"  said 
Temperance,  two  bright  red  spots 
burning  on  her  cheeks  ;  "but — but — 
welt — Nathan  was  over  at  Brixton  to- 
day, and  Lanty  was  there,  and  he  was 
— not  himself." 

"  Oh  poor  Mabella  !"  said  Sidney  ; 
"I'm  so  sorry.  1  never  dreamt  it 
could  be  true.     What  can  be  done  ?  " 

"Nothing — that  1  know  of,"  said 
Temperance.  "  M'bella's  close  as  wax 
and  quite  right  too,  but  she's  got  a 
worried  look;  I  can  seethrough  M'bella, 
and  as  for  Lanty,  well — it  would  be  a 

pretty  brave  one  that  would  speak  to 
Lanty — he  has  a  look  I  " 

Sidney  was  in  truth  more  distressed 
than  he  could  say.  That  Lanty,  bold, 
bright,  honest- hearted  Lanty  should 
give  way  to  intemperance  was  grievous 
Sidney  had  always  entertained  a  great 
admiration  for  the  young  countryman, 
who  was  indeed  almost  the  antithesis 
of  Sidney.  The  simplicity  of  his  na- 
ture was  very  charming  to  this  supra- 
sensitive  man  who  scourged  his  own 
soul  with  introspective  inquisition. 
Lanty's  calm  and  careless  acceptance 
of  the  facts  of  life,  without  question 
as  to  their  why  and  wherefore,  his 
happy  life  of  work  with  his  wife  and 
child,  seemed  to  Sidney  something  to 
be  admired  as  very  wholesome,  if  not 
envied  as  being  very  desirable.  That 
he  should  imperil  this  happiness  seem- 
ed most  tragic  to  Sidney. 

After  he  parted  from  Temperance  he 
walked  slowly  on. 

It  was  true;  Lanty  had  "a  look." 
His  bold  eyes  which  had  once  looked 
so  fearlessly  into  all  the  eyes  they  met 
had  now  changed  a  little.  There  was 
a  kind  of  piteous  challenge  in  them  as 
of  one  who  should  say  to  his  fellows 
"accuse  me  if  you  dare."  Alas,  over- 
eager  denial  is  often  an  admission  of 
guilt.  The  tongues  had  been  hissing 
his  name  from  house  to  house  for  long 
in  Dole,  and  gradually  the  conviction 
spread  that  Lanty  Lansing  was  drink- 
ing much    and  often — and  it  was  true. 

It  was  the  direct  result  of  his  popu- 
larity. He  had  been  going  very  often 
to  Brixton  during  the  past  year,  and 
there  he  had  fallen  in  with  a  set  of 
men  who  drank  a  great  deal ;  the  coi^n- 
try  lawyers,  an  old  toper  of  a  doctor, 
a  banker  and  two  or  three  idle  men 
who  spent  their  time  in  the  back  rooms 
of  their  friends'  offices.  Mixed  up  with 
this  set  Lanty  did  his  drinking  unseen; 
but  alas  the  effects  were  very  visible. 
But  strange  to  say  up  to  this  time  not 
one  of  the  Dole  worthies  had  seen  him 

It  would  seem  that  even  chance  was 
constrained  to  aid  Mabella  Lansing  in 
the  really  heroic  efforts  she  made  to 
hide  her  degradation  from  the  censo- 

:y  Google 



nous  little  world  about  her.  That  she 
and  her  husband  were  in  any  sense  di- 
visible she  never  dreamed.  Her  com- 
prehension of  the  unity  of  marriage 
forbade  that.  That  Laoty  could  sin 
apart  from  her,  or  be  judged  apart 
from  her,  or  condemned  apart  from 
her  never  occurred  to  her  simple  loyal 
mind.  As  for  turning  upon  his  delin- 
quencies the  search-light  of  her  right- 
eousness ;  or  posing  as  a  martyr 
and  bespeaking  the  pity  of  her  friends 
as  so  many  modern  wives  do — well, 
she  had  none  of  that  treachery  in  her. 
She  suffered  ail  his  repentances  in  her 
own  proper  person  and  without  the 
anaesthetic  poison  which  sometimes 
numbed  him  to  the  pain  of  his  regrets. 

At  this  lime  Mabella's  little  child 
was  a  source  of  ineffable  strength  and 
solace  to  its  mother.  Its  yellow  head, 
so  like  Lanty's  own,  brightened  the 
days  he  was  making  so  dark.  Mabella, 
grown  afraid  to  look  at  the  future, 
spent  many  hours  contemplating  her 
baby.  Its  eyes — like  bits  of  the  blue 
heaven;  the  tiny  feet  whose  soles  were 
yet  all  uncalloused  by  the  stones  of  life; 
the  clinging  hands  which  had  as  yet  let 
fall  no  joy,  nor  grasped  any  thorns.— 
these  were  joys  unspeakable  to  this 
mother  as  they  have  been  to  so  many. 
Truly  "  heaven  lies  about  us  in  our  in- 
fancy," and  nowand  then  from  the  celes- 
tial atmosphere  about  this  child  a  warm 
sense  of  peace,  a  saving  thrill  of  hope 
reached  out  to  the  mother's  heart.  O 
wonderful  woman  heart,  which,  like 
the  wholesome  maple,  gives  forth  the 
more  sweetness  the  more  it  is  pierced  ! 

Her  neighbours  took  up  the  habit  of 
vi^ting  her  frequently.  Going  early 
and  staying  late,  with  the  laudable  in- 
tention of  forcing  themselves  into  a 
confidence  denied  them. 

To  see  Lanty  pass  to  Brixton  was  a 
signal  to  start  to  his  house,  there  to 
talk  to  Mabella  until  such  time  as 
Lanty  returned  ;  and  poor  Mabella,  all 
her  old-foshioned  wifely  fidelity  up  in 
arms,  talked  to  them  bravely.  They 
had  sharp  ears  these  mothers  in  Israel, 
but  not  so  sharp  as  to  outstrip  Mabel- 
la's  love-quickened  senses. 

When  Lanty  came  back  she  heard 

his  horse  afar — before  he  came  to  the 
fork  in  the  road  even — and  making 
some  simple  excuse  to  her  visitor,  she 
would  speed  out  at  the  back  door,  see 
him.  know  if  all  was  well.  If  his  gait 
was  unsteady  and  his  blue  eyes  dazed, 
she  would  persuade  him  to  go  quietly  up 
the  back  way.  Happily  at  such  times 
he  was  like  wax  in  her  hands.  Then 
she  would  return  to  her  visitor  with 
some  little  lie  about  straying  turkeys 
or  depredating  cows. 

Oh,  Eternal  Spirit  of  Truth  !  Are 
not  these  lies  writ  in  letters  of  gold  for 
our  instruction  amid  the  most  sacred 
precepts  ? 

Once  indeed  Lanty  did  come  into  the 
room  where  Mrs.  Simpson  sat.  His 
eyes  were  blurred;  he  swayed  a  little 
and  asked  loudly  for  the  baby. 

'"  1  will  find  her,"  said  Mabella  quiet- 
ly, though  her  heart  sickened  within 
her,  and  rising  she  led  him  from  the 

"  Lanty,  dear,  you'll  go  upstairs  and 
lie  down?" 

He  looked  at  her  white  face  ;  the 
truth  gradually  struggling  in  upon 
him ;  without  a  word  he  turned  and 
crept  up  the  back  stairs  like  a  beaten 
^°%  Er°'"Er  t<>  hide. 

Mabella  returned  to  the  sitting-room 
taking  her  baby  with  her  ;  she  felt  that 
she  needed  some  fount  of  strength 
whilst  encountering  Mrs.  Simpson's 
talk.  When  she  entered,  Mrs.  Simp- 
son greeted  her  with  an  indescribable 
pantomime  of  pursed-up  lips,  doleful 
eyes,  uplifted  hands  and  lugubrious 
shakes  of  the  head.  Even  Mrs.  Simp- 
son dared  not  seek  in  words  to  break  , 
down  Mabella's  reticence,  so  baffling 
and  forbidding  was  its  wifely  dignity. 

Mabella  regarded  Mrs.  Simpson's 
pantomime  quietly. 

"Are  you  not  feeling  well,  Mrs. 
Simpson?"  she  asked.  "Are  you  in 
pain  ?  " 

Mrs.  Simpson  arrested  her  panto- 
mime with  a  jerk,  and  sitting  very  erect, 
quivering  with  righteous  wrath  and 
excitement  over  the  exclusive  informa- 
tion she  possessed,  she  said  : 

"I'm  real  welt — I  am.  I  only 
thought — but  I  guess  I'm  keeping  you; 

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p'raps  you've  got  other  things  to  do. 
Isn't  Lanty  needin'  you  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Mabella,  "  Lanty  is  not 
needing  me.  What  made  you  think 
that?  And  I  hope  you'll  stay  to  tea. 
I've  just  put  the  kettle  forward." 

"No — 1  can't  stay,"  said  Mrs.  Simp- 
son. "  1  only  caine  to  visit  for  a  while 
and  I've  stayed  and  stayed."  Mrs. 
Simpson  had  at  the  moment  but  one 
desire  on  earth,  which  was  to  spread 
the  news  of  Lanty's  fall. 

"  1  sort  o'  promised  to  visit  Mrs. 
Ranger  this  week.  I've  visited  a 
long  spell  with  you  now.  I  guess  I'll 
be  going  on.  My  !  How  like  her 
father  that  young  one  do  grow  I " 

"Yes,  doesn't  sheP"  said  Mabella, 
and  the  gladness  in  her  voice  was  un- 

Miss  Simpson  took-  the  goose  quill 
out  of  her  apron  band,  in  which  her 
knitting  needle  rested,  and  measured 
the  stocking  she  was  knitting  with  her 
second  finger. 

"  Well !  "  she  said,  "  I  declare  I've 
'  done  a  full  half  finger  sence  I  been  set- 
tin'  here  !  This  is  my  visitin'  knittio'. 
I  h^n't  done  a  loop  in  this  stockin' 
butwhat's  been  done  in  the  neighbours'. 
I  cast  it  on  up  to  Vashd's.  My  soul ! 
I  never  can  come  to  callio'  her  nothing 
but  Vashti,  if  she  be  the  minister's 
wife  1  I  cast  it  on  up  there,  and  the 
preacher  he  was  real  took  up  with  the 
three  colours  of  yarn  being  used  at 
in  one.  You  have  the  three  threads 
once  and  he  sez,  sez  he:  "'Why, 
Mrs.  Simpson,  you're  all  three  fates 
in  your  own  hands.'  Then  he  said 
to  Vashti,  '  That  would  be  fittin'  work 
for  you  Vashti.'  Well,  I  knowed 
Vashti  could  never  manoover  them 
three  threads  at  once,  but  I  didn't  say 
oothin',  bein'  as  I  thought  he  was  took 
up  with  the  stockin'  and  wanted  Vashti 
to  make  him  some.  Then  he  told 
about  some  woman  named  Penellepper 
that  was  great  on  knittin'.  The  only 
girl  1  ever  knowed  by  that  name  was 
Penellepper  Shinar,  and  she  certingly 
was  a  great  knitter  ;  she  used  to  knit 
herself  open-work  white>thread  stock- 
ings. Well,  she  came  to  a  fine  end 
with  her  vanities  \     I  wonder  if  'twas 

her  Mr.  Martin  meant?  Folks  did 
say  she  was  living  gay  in  Boston, 
though  'twas  said  too  that  she  went 
fur  west  somewheres  and  school-teach- 
ed.  Suz  1  It  would  be  queer  if  'twas 
her  Mr.  Martin  meant !  " 

"Mr.  Martin  gets  all  those  stories 
out  of  old  books,  in  learned  tongues," 
said  Mabella  simply.  "  When  he 
stayed  at  the  farm  he  used  to  tell  us 
all  sorts  of  stories." 

"  Women  in  books  is  mostly  bad 
'uos,"  said  Mrs.  Simpson,  by  this  time 
arrayed  in  the  old  crfpe  bonnet  which 
had  been  bought  as  mourning  for  Len, 
and  which  she  now  wore  as  second 
best.  "That  holds  good  even  to  the 
Bible  and  the  newspapers.  And  as  for 
a  preacher  mixing  himself  up  with 
them,  I  don't  hold  with  it.  But  being 
that  they're  mostly  dead  it  don't  mat- 
ter so  much,  and  judging  from  all  ac- 
counts they  was  good  riddance  when 
they  died. " 

What  a  requiem  over  the  "  dear 
dead  women  "  to  whom  so  many  songs 
have  been  sung  ! 

"  How  that  scented  geranium  grows! 
It  beats  all,"  s&id  Mrs.  Simpson,  as 
Mabella  escorted  her  to  the  garden 
gate.  For  anyone  to  have  tet  a  visit- 
or depart  alone  from  the  doorstep 
would  have  been  a  scandal  in  Dole. 

"  Won't  you  have  a  slip  ?"  said  Ma- 
bella, setting  down  Dorothy  and  bend- 
ing over  the  plant.  "Its  apple  scent- 
ed ;  Lanty  bought  it  off  a  peddler's 
waggon  over  in  Brixton  in  the  spring; 
it  has  grown  wonderfully." 

She  broke  off  a  branch,  ran  for  a 
bit  of  paper,  put  a  little  ball  of  earth 
round  the  stem,  wrapped  it  up  and 
gave  It  to  Mrs.  Simpson. 

"  Well,  it's  real  generous  of  you  to 
break  it,  Mabella  ;  but  you  know  the 
proverb.    '  A  shared  loaf  lasts  long.'  " 

"  Yes,  it's  true  I'm  sure,"  said  Ma- 

She  accompanied  Mrs.  Simpson  to 
the  gate  and  held  up  the  baby  to  wave 

And  Mrs.  Simpson  sped  down  the 
road  with  the  fleetness  of  foot  which 
betokens  the  news  bringer. 

She  turned  at  the  fork  in  the  road 

:y  Google 



and  looked  back  at  the  square  house 
against  its  background  of  trees.  Ma- 
bella  was  still  at  the  gate  with  the 
yellow-headed  baby. 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Simpson  to  her- 
self, "  Them  L.ansiogs  is  certainly 
most  tormented  proud  I  Sich  preten- 
ces I  And  would  I  stay  to  tea  I  My  t 
i  wonder  Mabella  Lansing  can  look  a 
body  in  the  face  Gradous  I  She 
must  think  we're  a  set  of  dumbheads, 
if  she  thinks  every  soul  in  Dole  can't 
see  how  things  is  goin'  with  Lanty. 
-  It's  the  drinkin'  uncle  coming  out  clear 
in  him  that's  sure. " 

Mrs.  Simpson  arrived  at  her  friend's 
house  in  ample  time  for  tea,  and  under 
the  stimulus  of  excitement  made  an 
excellent  repast. 

Without  criticism  upon  the  Dole 
people  it  must  be  admitted  that  a  scan- 
dal in  their  midst,  such  as  this,  had 
much  the  same  exhilaration  about  it 
for  them  that  a  camp  meeting  had. 

Mrs.  Simpson  and  Mrs.  Ranger 
talked  over  all  the  ins  and  outs  of  the 
Lansing  family  history.  It  was  all 
equally  well  known  to  each,  but  after 
all,  it  is  an  absorbing  and  amusing 
thing  to  rake  over  well-hoed  ground. 

Public  opinion  had  long  since  been 
pronounced  upon  the  events  which 
these  two  worthy^  women  cited,  not 
only  that,  but  the  grist  of  diverse  opin- 
ions had  been  winnowed  by  the  winds 
of  time  till  only  the  grain  of  public  de- 
cision was  left. 

So  that  when  Mrs.  Simpson  expressed 
her  opinion  emphatically  in  regard  to 
any  point,  she  knew  Mrs.  Ranger  would 
agree  with  her,  and,  knowing  every 
link  in  the  chain  of  events,  knew  ex- 
actly what  would  be  suggested  to  the 
other's  memory  by  her  own  remark. 

But  it  is  a  great  mistake  to  think 
these  conversations  devoid  of  mental 
stimulus.  It  required  great  adroitness 
to  prevent  the  other  person  from  seiz- 
ing upon  the  most  dramatic  situations 
and  making  them  hers. 

Then,  too,  though  this  was  an  un- 
holy thing,  there  was  always  the  odd 
chance  that  an  opinion,  differing  from 
that  pigeon-holed  in  the  Dole  memory 
as  correct,  might    be    advanced,      in 

this  case  it  was  one's  bounden  duty  to 
strive  by  analogy,  illustration,  and  rhe- 
toric, to  bring  the  sinner  back  to  the 
fold  of  the  majority. 

Nor  must  it  be  supposed  that  history 
handed  down  thus,  crystallized  into 
meaningless  dictums.  The  lights  and 
shadows  were  forever  shifting, and  when 
any  new  incident  occurred  the  other 
cogent  incidents  in  the  chain  were  in- 
stantly magnified  and  dilated  upon, 
and' for  the  time  being  stood  forward 
boldly  in  the  foreground  of  the  pedi- 
gree under  consideration,  remaining 
the  salient  points  until  such  time  as 
some  new  event  shed  lustre  upon  an- 
other set  of  incidents. 

In  view  of  the  sensation  of  the  mo- 
ment, the  "  drunken  uncle  "  loomed 
like  an  ominous  spectre  across  the  long 
vistas  of  the  Lansing  genealogfy.  For 
the  moment  he  was  regarded  as  the 
direct  progenitor  of  all  the  Lansings, 
although  he  had  died  unmarried  fifty 
years  before  Lanty's  birth. 

Mrs.   Simpson  added  another   half 
finger  to  her  fateful  stocking,  with  its  ' 
triune    thread  ere    she    quitted,    Mrs- 
Ranger's  that  night. 

"  Well,  I  declare,"  she  said,  as  she 
stood  on  the  step  in  the  greyness  of 
the  falling  night.  "I  declare!  I 
most  forgot  the  slip  Mabella  gave  me. 
It's  on  the  bed  where  my  bunnit  was," 
she  added  to  little  Jimmy  Ranger,  who 
went  in  search  of  it.  "  It's  real  rare 
that  generanium  is,  apple  scented — 
smell," breaking  olTa  leaf,  pinching  it, 
andholding  it  under  Mrs.  Ranger's  nose. 
"  Come  up  as  soon  as  you  can,"  she 
added,  descending  the  two  steps. 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Ranger,  "we're 
going  to  Brixton  for  the  blankets  that 
have  been  spun  of  last  year's  wool, 
next  week,  and  p'raps  we'll  drop  in  on 
the  way  home." 

"Do,"  said  Mrs.  Simpson,  "and 
you  kin  stay  supper  and  visit  a  spell; 
our  cider'll  be  made  by  then.  Len's 
been  over  to  the  cooper  about  the  mill 
this  week.  But  if  you  should  hear 
anything  in  the  meantime,  jest  put  on 
your  bunnit  and  come  acrost  the  fields 
neighborly. " 

"  Yes,   I    will,"  said    Mrs.    Ranger; 




"  I  guess  things  is  comin'  to  a  head;  I 
wouldn't  be  surprised  any  day " 

There  was  a  long  pause. 

"Nor  Me,"  said  Mrs.  Simpson  em- 
phatically, "Goodnight." 

"  Good  aight  It  gets  dark  real 
soon  now." 

"  Yes,  there's  quite  a  tang  to  the  air 
to-night.      It'll  be  frost  in  no  time." 

"Well,"  soliloquized  Mrs.  Simpson, 
as  she  betook  herself  home,  "  Liz 
Ranger  thinks  just  the  same's  I  do  ; 
that's  evident.  My  sakes !  How 
Mabella  Lansing  can  go  through  with 
it  is  more'n  I  can  figure." 

"  It's  terrible  1"  said  Mrs.  Ranger, 
going  back  leisurely  to  the  house. 
"  It's  downright  terrible.  I  guess 
Lanty  went  on  awful  to-day.  Mrs. 
Simpson  is  jest  full  of  it,  but  sakes  ! 
I  should  think  she'd  kind  of  talk  low 
of  drinkin'  and  sich,  remembering  her 
own  Len.  He  was  a  rip,  Len  Simp- 
son was,  if  ever  there  was  one!  But 
that  don't  seem  to  he  a  bridle  on  Gert 
Simpson's  tongue.  It's  enough  to 
bring  a  jidgment  on  to  her,  the  way 
she  talks.  I  wonder  how  Temp'rins 
Tribbey  '11  like  Lanty's  goin's  on  ?" 

These  reflections  of  Mrs.  Ranger's 
upon  Mrs.  Simpson  were  no  doubt 
edifying,  but  certainly  she  had  carried 
on  the  conversation  with  quite  as  great 
a  gusto  as  Mrs.  Simpson.  And  if  she 
had  not  enjoyed  it  as  much  it  was  only 
because  Mrs.  Simpson,  being  a  re- 
doubtable conversationalist,  had  filched 
the  finest  morsels  of  the  retrospective 
talk  for  herself,  it  was  therefore  prob- 
ably more  a  sense  of  wounded  amour 
propre  than  genuine  condemnation  of 
Mrs.  Simpson  which  led  her  to  criticize 
the  latter's  conversational  methods. 

Mrs.  Ranger  had  an  uneasy  and  un- 
satisfactory idea  that  she  had  merely 
given  Mrs.  Simpson  her  cues, 

Mabella  made  strong  coffee  that 
night  for  supper  instead  of  tea.  She 
dressed  Dorothy  in  the  beribboned 
dress  that  Sidney  had  sent  from  Bos 
ton.  She  talked  cheerily  and  brightly 
to  her  husband.  She  rose  from  her 
place  and  came  round  with  his  cup  and 
put  it  beside  him,  letting  one  hand  fall 
with  a  passing  but  loving  touch  upon 

his  shoulder  as  she  did  so.  But  she 
did  not  look  at  his  face  once  during  all 
the  time  of  supper.  She  dreaded  to 
see  the  crown  of  shame  upon  the  brow 
of  her  king.  For  herein  again  Ma- 
bella showed  the  steadfastness  of  her 
adherence  to  her  husband.  She  suff- 
ered because  he  suffered.  It  was  not 
the  fear  of  the  scandal  that  would 
arise,  it  was  not  the  thought  of  her  own 
probable  future  which  stung  her  to  the 
heart,  although  these  thoughts  were 
both  bitter  as  wormwood. 

It  was  the  knowledge  that  Lanty, 
her  Lanty,  who  was  her  guide,  her 
everything,  was  shamed.  It  was  the 
harm  he  was  doing  himself  that  she 
deplored,  not  the  reflection  of  his  be- 
haviour upon  herself. 

How  many  of  the  women  who  pro- 
claim their  own  patience  and  their  hus- 
band's shortcomings  upon  the  house- 
tops think  of  this  ?  Not  long  since  a 
certain  woman,  bediamonded  and  pros- 
perous, was  demanding  sympathy  from 
her  dear  half-dozen  friends,  recounting 
to  them  the  derelictions  of  her  hus- 
band. "There's  only  one  comfort," 
she  said  ;  "  after  every  break  he  makes, 
he  always  gives  me  a  handsome  pres- 
ent. That's  always  something."  Yet 
we  wonder  that  there  are  cynics  ! 

There  was  no  word  spoken  between 
Lanty  and  Mabella  in  reference  to  the 
afternoon.  But  that  night  in  the  dark- 
ness Lanty  suddenly  drew  her  into 
his  arms. 

She  laid  her  cheek  against  his ;  both 
faces  were  wet  with  tears. 

There  was  poignant  apology  made 
and  free,  full,  loving  pardon  given  all 
in  that  instant. 

And  Mabella  wept  out  her  pain  on 
his  breast. 

But  the  shame  and  bitterness  and 
self-contempt  ate  into  Lanty's  heart 
like  a  venomous  canker 

All  this  had  been  in  the  late  autumn, 
just  after  the  death  of  old  Mr.  Didy- 
n)us,  and  now  it  was  spring  and  all 
through  the  winter  Mabella  had  suffer- 
ed, and  hoped,  and  prayed,  and  des- 
paired, and  now  it  had  come  to  this 
that  Nathan  had  seen  Lanty  intoxicat- 
ed in  Brixton  ! 

Digitized  byGoO^IC 



Sidney  went  back  to  the  parsoDag:e 
sorely  troubled  at  heart.  Vashti  stood 
in  the  doorway. 

Her  beauty  struck  him  freshly  and 
vividly.  It  was  his  whim  that  she 
should  dress  in  rich  and  beautiful  stuffs, 
and  Vashti  was  quite  willing  to  sub- 
scribe to  it.  Dole  groaned  in  spirit  at 
the  spectacle  of  its  minister's  wife  in 
such  worldly  garb  as  she  wore,  but 
Dole  would  have  borne  much  at  Sid- 
ney's hands. 

To-day  she  was  clothed  in  a  softly 
draped  house-gown  of  Persian  colour- 
ing, bound  by  a  great  cord  girdle  about 
her  waist ;  it  fell  in  long  classic  lines 
to  her  feet.  Vashti's  face  had  gained 
in  majesty  and  strength  since  her  mar- 
riage. She  was  thinner,  but  that,  in- 
stead of  making  against  her  beauty, 
raised  it  to  a  higher  plane.  There  was 
a  certain  luxuriousness  in  her  tempera- 
ment which  made  her  rejoice  in  the 
beautiful  things  with  which  Sidney  sur- 
rounded her.  She  felt  instinctively 
that  she  gained  in  forcefulness  and  in 
individuality  from  her  setting.  And, 
indeed,  she  fitted  in  well  amid  the 
beautiful  pictures  and  hangings  with 
which  Sidney  had  adorned  the  enlarged 
parsonage.  She  had  always  seemed 
too  stately,  too  queenly,  for  her  com- 
monplace calicoes  and  cashmeres.  Her 
mien  and  stature  had  made  her  sur- 
roundings seem  poor  and  inadequate. 
But  in  this  gem  of  a  house  she  shone 
like  a  jewel  fitly  set.  Sidney  had  had 
his  own  way  about  the  primary  ar-  , 
rangements,  and  had  installed  a  strong 
working  woman  in  the  kitchen  with 
Sally,  the  ex-native  of  Blueberry  Alley, 
as  her  under-study. 

Vashti  was  perfectly  content  with 
this,  and,  whilst  she  knew  all  Dole  was 
whispering  about  her,  held  upon  her 
way  undisturbed.  She  had  developed, 
to  Sidney's  intense  joy,  a  very  decided 
taste  in  the  matter  of  books.  Her 
mind  was  precisely  of  the  calibre  to 
take  on  a  quick  and  brilliant  polish. 
She  read  assiduously,  and  her  percep- 
tions were  wonderfully  acute. 

Her  beginnings  in  literary  apprecia- 
tion were  not  those  of  a  weakling.  Her 
mental  powers  were  of  such  order  that 

from  the  first  she  assimilated  and 
digested  the  strong,  rich  food  of  the 
English  classics. 

She  delighted  in  verse  or  prose  which 
depicted  the  conflict  of  passion  and 
will,  of  circumstances  and  human  de- 
termination. Alas,  her  education  only 
made  her  more  determined  to  gain  her 
purpose,  more  contemptuous  of  the  ob- 
stacles which  opposed  her. 

And  yet,  if  her  purpose  had  not  been 
of  the  most  steadfast,  she  might  well 
have  been  discouraged. 

Lanty  and  Mabella  seemed  so  secure- 
ly happy.  Vashti  was,  however,  gain- 
ing an  ascendency  over  her  husband 
which  almost  puzzled  herself.  She  had 
no  comprehension  whatever  of  the  na- 
ture of  the  power  by  which  she  was 
enabled  to  cause  a  deep  mesmeric 
sleep  to  fall  upon  him.  Nor  did  she 
understand  in  the  least  how  gradually 
but  surely  she  was  disintegrating  his 
will.  When  his  headaches  came  on 
now  half  a  dozen  gestures  of  her  wav- 
ing hands  were  sufficient  to  induce  the 
hypnoses  which  brought  him  forget  ful- 
ness. Ignorant  of  the  potency  of  sug- 
gestion she  often  stood  watching  him 
whilst  he  slept,  feeling  within  her  the 
striving  of  her  dominant  will,  as  of  an 
imprisoned  spirit  striving  to  burst  the 
confining  bars. 

"  Come  into  the  study,"  s^d  Sidney, 
as  he  reached  her  side.  "  I  have  some 
very  bad  news. " 

"  My  father?  "  she  said. 

"No,  Lanty."  She  blanched  to  the 
tint  of  the  powdery  snow.  Together 
they  went  to  the  study,  and  he  told 

Her  breath  came  quickly. 

Was  the  longed-for  opportunity  to 
be  given  into  her  hands  at  last? 

With  all  her  mental  activity  she  could 
not  yet  guess  how  Lanty's  decadence 
might  yield  her  the  opportunity  she 

But  the  position  of  affairs  had  seem- 
ed so  barren  of  hope  for  her  that  any 
change  seemed  to  make  revenge  more 

So  the  evil  in  her  leaped  and  strove 
upward  like  a  flame  given  fresh  fuel 
and  freer  air. 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 




The  fragrant  pink  arbutus  had  re- 
placed the  snow-wreaths  upon  the  hill- 
sides, the  downy  whorls  of  the  first 
fern  fronds  were  pushing  through  the 
dark-brown  leaves,  the  fragile  hepati- 
cas  had  opened  their  sweet  eyes  wide, 
when  one  morning  Sidney  took  the 
sloping  path  which  led  up  the  hill  over- 
looking Dole. 

His  face  was  pale  and  drawn,  his 
grey  eyes  half  distraught,  his  slender, 
nervous  hands  clinched  as  if  to  hold 
fast  to  some  strand  of  hope,  some  last 
remnant  of  courage,  some  crumb  of 
consolation  for  that  moment  when  his 
soul,  utterly  bereft,  should  cry  aloud  in 

Sidney  Martin  preached  to  his 
people  sweet  and  wholesome  sermons, 
instinct  with  the  hopefulness  and  char- 
ity of  one  who  believes  that,  "  all 
things  work  together  for  good,"  and 
that  "  the  mute  beyond  is  just,"  but  in 
his  own  soul  was  chaos. 

Always  sensible  of  his  personal  re- 
sponsibility towards  his  fellows,  he  had 
now  become  almost  morbid  upon  the 

The  old  workman  had  known  Sid- 
ney better  than  Sidney  had  known 
himself,  and  his  prophecies  were  being 

Happy  as  Sidney  was  in  his  hus- 
bandhood,  yet  the  possession  of  Vashti 
was  not  a  narcotic  strong  enough 
to  stupefy  his  keen  spiritual  nature. 

Every  Sunday  before  he  entered  the 
pulpit  he  endured  a  Gethsemane  ;  every 
time  he  quitted  it  he  sought  the  faces 
of  his  people  yearningly,  pitiably,  eager 
to  be  assured  that  his  words  had  com- 
forted them. 

He  spent  all  his  time  thinking  of 
and  for  them,  and  he  had  won  closer 
to  their  hearts  than  he  guessed.  They 
gave  him  confidences  which  had  been 
withheld  from  their  fellows  for  years, 
and  thus  let  in  to  the  closed  chambers 
in  their  humble  lives,  he  was  able  to 
justify  himself  to  Vashti  fur  the  very 
lenient  way  in  which  he  looked  upon 
their  lapses.  He  sometimes  wondered 
that  their  common  experiences  of  pov- 
erty  and   effort   did   not   make  them 

more  considerate  in  their  judgments 
upon  each  other.  But  they  found  in 
him  always  a  merciful  judge.  He  vis- 
ited their  homes,  he  knew  their  hopes 
and  fears,  he  appreciated  the  pathos  of 
their  narrow  ambitions,  at  which  a 
less  great'hearted  man  might  have 

He  went  into  the  little  schooNhouse 
frequently,  and  strove  in  simple  words 
to  awaken  the  children  to  the  beauty 
about  them,  to  the  possibilities  of  life. 
He  had  great  hopes  of  the  children. 
Already  he  had  singled  out  several 
^vhom  he  thought  might  make  scholars. 
He  promised  himself  that  they  should 
be  given  the  opportunity. 

He  had  been  going  to  the  school 
that  morning  when  a  little  incident 
occurred  which  awakened  all  his  most 
poignant  doubts  of  himself,  and  the 
righteousness  of  his  ministry. 

Passing  by  the  school-playground, 
he  had  seen  some  evil  words  chalked 
up  in  a  school-boy  hand  upon  the 
board  fence.  It  was  like  a  blow  in  the 
face  to  Sidney — so  eager  to  instil  the 
doctrines  of  sweetness  and  light  into 
these  children.  Why,  O  why  had  that 
boyish  hand  traced  the  symbols  to  form 
that  evik idea?  It  was  as  if  a  clear 
spring  should  suddenly  cast  up  mud  in- 
stead of  water. 

Sidney  effaced  the  words,  but  turn- 
ed away  from  the  school.  The  whole 
morning  was  poisoned  for  him.  Poor 
Sidney  I  Doubtless  he  was  supra-sen- 
sitive, and  yet^why  had  not  the  boy 
chosen  some  sweet  and  beautiful  words 
to  write  upon  that  sunny  spring  morn- 
ing? Surely  they  would  have  been 
more  in  keeping  with  the  whole  world 
as  the  boy's  eyes  saw  it  ? 

We  may  smile  at  Sidney  as  he  agon- 
izes alone  upon  the  hill,  but  it  was  by 
such  vigils  as  these  that  he  won  so 
close  to  the  heart  of  the  God  in  whom 
he  had  no  belief. 

Sidney  wandered  about  in  the  woods 
upon  the  hillside  till  gradually  some 
little  of  the  peace  of  the  day  entered 
into  his  spirit.  He  gathered  a  bunch 
of  arbutus  to  take  home  to  Vashti. 
He  encountered  no  one  upon  the  return 
journey  but  Mr.  Simpson,  who  "  pass- 

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ed  the  time  of  day  "  mth  the  miaister, 
as  he  said  afterwards,  and  then  pro- 
ceeded  to  try  to  draw  him  out  regard- 
\a%  Lanty.  It  was  very  easy  For 
Sidney  to  parry  old  Mr.  Simpson's 
queries,  but  they  made  him  very  un- 
easy oevertheless. 

Vashti  whitened  as  Sidney  related 
the  circumstances  to  her. 

Could  there  be  anything;  new  ?  she 
wondered.  Sidney  had  one  of  his  in- 
tense headaches,  and,  after  the  mid- 
day meal,  Vashti  proposed  to  give 
him  ease  from  it  by  putting  him  into  a 

"You  are  my  good  angel,  Vashti," 
he  said,  catching  her  fingers  as  she 
made  the  first  pass  across  his  forehead, 
and  kissing  them  one  by  one.  She 
looked  down  at  him,  for  he  lay  upon 
the  green  leather  couch  in  the  study, 
and  smiled  almost  tenderly.  His  con- 
tinual sweetness  of  temper,  his  unself- 
ishness, his  thought  fulness,  and,  above 
all,  his  great  adoration  for  her  had 
touched  her  greatly  since  their  mar- 
riage. She  was  too  keen  an  observer, 
too  clever  a  woman,  not  to  recognize 
that  this  man  was  head  and  shoulders 
above  the  men  she  had  known.  She 
had  moments  when  she  was*enraged 
against  herself  for  loving  Lanty  instead 
of  her  husband,  but  yet  her  heart 
never  wavered  in  its  allegiance  to  her 
yellow-haired  cousJn.  There  was  some- 
thing in  his  magnificent  physique,  his 
superabundant  energy,  his  almost  ar- 
rogant virility,  which  appealed  to  her. 
Beneath  that  calm,  pale  face  of  hers 
were  strong  passions,  sleeping,  but 
stirring  in  their  sleep  at  the  voice  which 
did  not  call  them. 

Sidney,  or  Sidney's  welfare,  would 
never  weigh  with  her  a  featherweight 
if  balanced  against  a  chance  of  win- 
ning Lanty  from  her  cousin,  or  of  re- 
venging herself  upon  them  both,  yet 
there  were  times  when  she  wished  that 
it  had  been  any  other  man  than  Sidney 
who  was  bound  to  her. 

"  It  is  you  who  are  good,"  she 
said.  "The  village  people  think  you 
are  a  saint. " 

"Vashti,"  said  Sidney,  wistfully. 
"  Do  you  think  1  do  them  good  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  yes,"  said  Vashti,  "just 
think  how  they  turn  out  to  church.  Its 
something  wonderful." 

Sidney's  eyes  lighted  up  with  delight 
of  her  praise. 

"  Oh,  Vashti  I "  he  said,  "I  am  so 
glad.  I  often  wonder  if  you  are  satis- 
fied with  my  work.  You  know  it  was 
you  who  ordained  me  to  the  priest- 

A  slow  colour  stole  into  her  cheeks. 
She  waved  her  hands  soothingly  above 
his  brow,  then  posing  two  fingers  upon 
his  temples  where  the  pain  was,  said 
gently  but  imperatively,  ' '  sleep,  sleep" 
and  almost  immediately,  with  her  name 
upon  his  lips,  he  closed  his  eyes  and 
fell  into  a  deep  slumber. 

She  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and 
looked  about  the  room,  so  manifestly 
the  sanctum  of  a  man  of  taste.  The 
bookshelves  which  extended  round  and 
round  the  room  to  the  height  of  a  man's 
shoulder,  were  filled  with  books  uni- 
formly bound  in  dark  green  leather. 

This  was  a  miracle  in  Dole,  and 
Sally  was  wont  to  dilate  upon  the 
astonishing  circumstance,  and  marvel 
that  Mister  Martin  could  find  the 
one  he  wanted  among  so  many  all 
alike.  The  mere  fact  of  the  titles  being 
different  did  not  appeal  to  Sally. 

Above  the  bookshelves  against  a  soft 
harmonious  background  were  beautiful 
etchings  froni  the  paintings  Sidney 
loved.  Millet's  peasants,  Bume-Jones' 
beautiful  women,  Meissonler's  cava- 
liers, Rossetti's  "Beata  Beatrix."  Upon 
the  top  of  the  bookshelves  were  two 
exquisite  marbles,  the  winged  Victory 
of  Samothrace,  and  the  Venus  de  Milo, 
and  one  bronze — the  famous  wing- 
footed  Mercury,  slender,  lithe,  and 
seeming  ever  to  sweep  on  with  the 
messages'  of  the  gods. 

Vashti  sat  long  there,  then  she 
remembered  that  it  was  the  day  of  the 
sewing  circle.  The  meeting  was  at 
the  house  of  Mrs.  Winder  that  day. 

Vashti  rose  and  left  the  room,  she 
put  on  her  hat,  paused  to  look  at 
herself  in  her  glass,  and  smiled  to 
think  of  how  the  women  would  whisper, 
when  her  back  was  turned,  about  her 
Boston  gown  and  her  modish  hat. 

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Vashti  rather  liked  to  amaze  her 
fellow- women.  With  all  her  strengfth 
of  mind  there  was  much  femininity 
about  her,  and  when  it  came  to  prod- 
ding up  other  women  she  was  an  adept. 

As  she  passed  the  open  study  door 
she  paused  and  looked  in  where  her 
hustKind  lay,  sunk  in  the  unconscious- 
ness of  a  hypnotic  sleep.  For  a  moment 
she  had  a  great  desire  to  awaken  him, 
but  still  softened  by  unwonted  tender- 
ness she  refrained  from  doing  so. 
Vashti  liked  not  only  to  parade  her 
Boston  finery  before  the  sewing  circle, 
but  also  her  husband. 

After  all,  being  the  minister's  wife  in 
Dole  had  charms. 

"  If  I  had  only  told  htm  to  come  for 
me,"  she  s^d  regretfully.  "I  wish 
he  would,  at  five  o'clock.  I've  a  mind 
to  wake  him  up  and  ask  him."  She 
hesitated.  The  light  slanted  in  across 
Sidney's  face,  its  pallor  shone  out 

She  turned  away  and  ere  long  was 
Rearing  Mrs.  Winder's.  She  walked 
slowly  up  the  path  to  the  front  door. 
Sidney  often  forgot  that  it  was  one  of 
the  preacher's  privileges  to  do  this,  but 
Vashti  always  remembered  what  was 
fitting  ;  besides  she  knew  the  window 
of  the  sitting-room  commanded  the 
little  path,  and  she  thought  the  sewing 
circle  might  just  as  well  be  edified  by 
her  progress  from  the  gate  as  not. 

"  My  !  Vashti  is  most  terrible 
cherked  up  in  her  dress,"  said  Mrs. 
Ranger  to  Mrs.  Winder. 

' '  Yes,  that  gownd  must  have  cost  a 
lot,  but  they  say  'tis  by  the  preacher's 

*'  Who   said    that  ?  "    asked    Mrs. 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs,  Ranger  volubly, 
"  I  b^ard  that  too  ;  it  was  Sally,  up  at 
the  preacher's,  that  told  young  Mary 
Shinar,  and  Mary  Shinar  told  Tom,  and 
Tom  had  it  over  to  our  Ab  at  Brixton 
a  week  come  Saturday,  that  the  preach- 
er draws  the  patternings  for  Vashti's 
gownds,  and  colours  them  himself,  and 
measures  Vashti  with  a  tape  line,  and 
sends  the  hull  thing  off  to  somewheres 
in  Bosting,  and  Sally  up  at  the  preach- 
er's says  that  when    they  come  from 

Bosdng  the  sleeves  and  the  waist  is  all 
filled  full  of  silk  paper  to  hold  'em  in 
shape,  and  that  it's  like  a  body  in  a  cof- 
fing  when  the  lid  is  taken  off,  and — yes, 
my  turkeys  has  been  laying  for  a  week 
now,"  concluded  Mrs.  Ranger  with  an 
abrupt  change  of  subject  and  tone,  for 
Vashti  at  that  moment  entered  the 
room.  Now  Vashti  herself  had  ere 
now  switched  off  her  conversation  to  a 
side  track,  and  when  she  heard  Mrs. 
Ranger  answering  a  question  which 
had  not  been  asked,  she  smiled  in  a 
manner  to  make  even  Mrs.  Ranger  un- 

Vashti  had  hardly  taken  her  place 
before  Temperance  entered,  and  pre- 
sently the  twenty  or  thirty  women  were 
busy  with  their  needles  upon  the  some- 
what formless  garments  which  are  sup- 
posed to  conduce  to  the  salvation  of 
the  heathen,  and  whilst  their  needles 
were  busy  their  tongues  kept  pace. 

There  were  many  things  of  import- 
ance to  be  discussed,  the  health  of 
Vashti's  father  (who  had  had  another 
stroke),  the  setting  of  hens,  the  finding 
of  turkeys'  nests,  house  cleaning  and 
garden  making — the  springtime  in  the 
country  is  always  a  busy  time — and 
above  and  beyond  all  these  things  there 
was  a  most  exciting  subject,  the  down- 
fall of  a  certain  Ann  Serrup  ;  of  this  the 
matrons  whispered  together. 

"Has  Mr.  Martin  been  over  yet?" 
asked  Mrs.  Winder  of  Vashti,  after 
trying  in  several  indirect  ways  to  find 

"No,"  said  Vashti,  "I  don't  think 
he  has  heard  of  it.  i  didn't  tell  him 
and  I  don't  think  anyone  has." 

"  If  you  take  my  advice,"  said  Tem- 
perance, making  her  needle  whistle 
through  the  cotton,  "  If  you  take  my 
advice  you'll  keep  the  preacher  away 
from  that  mess.  He's  that  soft-hearted 
that  he's  liable  to  be  taken  in — besides 
it's  more  likely  a  woman's  help  she 
needs.  Laws,  I  ofting  think  of  Ann, 
all  alone.  Why  don't  you  go  yourself, 
Vashti  ?  " 

"  1  have  thought  of  it  for  a  couple  of 
months,"  said  Vashti.  "  It's  nearly  a 
year  old  now  isn't  it?" 

"Yes,"  said   Mrs.  Winder  proceed- 




in^  to  give  data.  "Butsakes!  Why 
couldn't  she  stay  over  Brixton  way 
without  coming  into  our  parish  with 
her  brat." 

"  They  have  souls,"  said  Vashti, 
suddenly  drawing  the  mantle  of  the 
preacher's  wife  about  her. 

"Well,  one  of  'em  shouldn't  have," 
said  Mrs.  Ranger  irately.  "Sakes,  I 
don't  know  what  girls  is  coming  to ! " 

"I  expect  she  didn't  have  much 
chance,"  said  Temperance  deprecat- 

"That's  no  excuse  for  sin,"  said 
Vashti  austerely. 

Temperance  sniffed  audibly.  The 
clock  struck  five,  and  a  footstep  sound- 
ed upon  the  porch  of  the  backdoor. 

"  Run  see  who  that  is,"  said  Mrs. 
Winder  to  Jimmy. 

The  women  held  their  needles  sus- 
pended midway  in  the  stitch,  and  Sid- 
ney's voice  came  cheerily  from  the 

"Why  lands  sake!  It's  Mr.  Mar- 
tin and  by  the  kitching  too  I "  said 
Mrs.  Winder  bustling  forward  to  wel- 
come him. 

He  entered  gracefully,  greeting  them 
all  in  his  gentle  genial  way  which 
seemed  to  bring  him  so  close  to  their 
hearts;  but  his  eyes  sought  out  Vashti 
where  she  sat  half  anticipative — half 
dreaming  of  the  words  he  would  say. 
Somehow  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  was 
taking  part  in  a  scene  which  had  been 
rehearsed  long  since  and  which  grew 
slowly  into  her  recollection.  Sidney 
would  say — she  thought  the  words  and 
Sidney's  voice  seemed  the  audible  echo 
of  the  phrase,  "  Vou  wanted  me  to 
come  at  five,"  he  said  ;  I  just  woke  up 
in  time ;  it  was  fortunate  I  did  not 
forget.  Are  you  going  over  to  see 
your  father  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Vashti  rising  mechani- 
cally, a  strange  mingling  of  awe  and 
exaltation,  not  unmixed  with  fear,  at 
her  heart. 

"  You  will  excuse  my  wife  if  she  is 
lazy  to-day  Mrs.  Winder,"  said  Sid- 
ney laughing,  "  but  I  hope  you  won't 
follow  her  bad  example  and  leave  off 
before  the  six  o'clock  bell  ;  we  must 
have  full  time  in  the  sewing-class  t  " 

There  was  a  general  smile  at  this 
mild  wit.  Minister's  jokes  are  always 
highly  appreciated. 

"What  a  beautiful  view  you  get 
from  this  window,"  said  Sidney*  look- 
ing out  across  to  the  hill.  Mrs.  Win- 
der saw  her  opportunity  and  took  iL 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "but  you  get  a 
terrible  line  view  from  the  window  in 
the  front  room — just  step  in,  if  you'll 
take  the  trouble,"  so  saying  Mrs. 
Winder  threw  open  the  door  of  the 
sacred  front  room,  revealing  all  its 
glories  to  Sidney's  gaze,  and  preceding 
him  with  a  great  assumption  of  uncon- 
sciousness, she  rolled  up  the  paper 
blind  and  pointed  out  of  the  window. 

Sidney  looked,  and  saw  almost  op- 
posite him  a  new  frame  barn  whose 
pine  walls  showed  glaringly  and  some- 
what oppressively  in  the  sun. 

"  The  new  barn  'ill  be  done  in  two 
weeks,"  said  Mrs.  Winder  as  Sidney 
turned  away  ;  "you  see  it  lengthways 
from  here." 

"It  looks  very  well,"  said  Sidney 
kindly.  Then  he  bade  them  all  good- 
bye and  departed  with  Vashti,  who  was 
silently  marvelling.  This  was  the  first 
inkling  Vashti  had  of  the  force  of 
"  suggestion." 

Meanwhile  the  tongues  buzzed  in 
the  company  they  had  left.  The  women 
were  conversationally  inclined  ;  excite- 
ment is  a  great  stimulant  to  the  flow  of 
ideas,  and  certainly  this  meeting  of  the 
sewing-circle  had  had  its  sensation. 
Mrs.  Winder's  boldness  in  inveigling 
the  preacher  in  to  see  the  glories  of  the 
front  room  had  been  appreciated  at  its 
full  worth.  Not  one  of  these  dames 
but  had  cherished  a  secret  longing  to 
show  off  her  front  room  to  Sidney — 
but  so  far  he  knew  only  the  mundane 
comfortableness  of  the  "setting-rooms." 

Mrs.  Winder  had  scored  largely  that 

And  the  meeting  was  not  over. 

Mrs.  Ranger  had  been  irritated  that 
afternoon  in  various  ways.  Vashti's 
smile  when  she  entered  had  made  Mrs. 
Ranger  uncomfortable. 

"Although,"  as  she  said  to  Mrs. 
Winder,  "what  could  she  expect?  My 
sakes  1     1   don't  care  if  she  did  hear 

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me!  It's  all  gospel  truth  and  what 
can  she  expect,  being  the  preacher's 
wife,  but  to  be  talked  about?  " 

What  indeed  ? 

Then,  too,  Mrs.  Ranger  felt  Mrs. 
Winder  had  indulged  in  reprehensibly 
sharp  practice  in  regard  to  the  front 
room — and — but  it  Is  needless  to  en- 
numerate  the  different  irritations  which, 
She  felt  she  must  ease  the  pressure 
upon  her  patience  by  giving  some  one's 
character  a  thorough  overhauling  ;  so 
with  a  side  look  at  Temperance,  and  a 
tightening  of  her  meagre  mouth,  she 
began  to  speak  of  Lanty. 

Now  in  Dole,  if  any  subject  was 
brought  up  which  hurt  or  pained  you, 
you  were  expected  to  look  indifferent, 
make  no  reply,  and  strive  by  keeping 
a  calm  front  to  deny  the  honour  of  put- 
ting on  the  shoe  when  it  fitted. 

The  Spartan  boy's  heroism  has  often 
been  out-done  by  women  who  smiled 
and  smiled  whilst  venomous  tongues 
seared  their  hearts.  So  Mrs.  Ranger 
began  boldly,  as  one  does  who  fires 
from  under  cover  at  an  unarmed  foe, 

But  Temperance  had  been  so  long 
one  of  the  Lansing  family  that  she  had 
assimilated  a  little  of  their  "unexpect- 
edness," and  as  Mrs.  Ranger  continued 
her  remarks,  egged  on  by  acquiescing 
nods  from  the  other  women,  there  be- 
gan to  gather  upon  the  brow  of  Tem- 
perance a  deep  black  cloud. 

Mrs.  Ranger  paused  in  her  harangue 
to  gather  breath  for  her  peroration, 
when  suddenly  the  thread  of  talk  was 
plucked  from  her  ready  lips  by  the 
strident  voice  of  Temperance,  who, 
rising  to  her  feet,  and  gathering 
her  sewing  together  as  she  spoke, 
proceeded  to  deliver  herself  of  an 
opinion  upon  the  charity  of  the 
women  about  her.  In  whatever  par- 
ticular that  opinion  erred,  it  certain* 
ly  merited  praise  for  its  frankness. 
After  Temperance  had  indulged  in  a 
few  pungent  generalizations  she  nar- 
rowed her  remarks  to  Mrs.  Ranger's 
case.  Never  in  all  the  annals  of  Dole 
had  any  woman  received  such  a  "  set- 
ting  out"  from  the  tongue  of  another 
as  Mrs.  Ranger  received  that  day  from 

(To  he  continued.) 

Temperance.  Temperance  spoke  with 
a  knowledge  of  her  subject  which  gave 
play  to  all  the  eloquence  she  was  cap- 
able of ;  she  discussed  and  disposed  of 
Mrs.  Ranger's  forebears  even  to  the 
third  generation,  and  when  she  allowed 
herself  finally  to  speak  of  Mrs.  Ranger 
in  person,  she  expressed  herself  with  a 
freedom  and  decision  which  could  only 
have  been  the  result  of  settled  opinion. 

"  As  for  your  tongue  Mrs,  Ranger, 
to  my  mind,  it's  a  deal  like  a  snake's 
tail-^it  will  keep  on  moving  after  the 
rest  of  you  is  dead." 

With  which  remark  Temperance  de- 
parted from  the  sewing  circle  which 
had  metaphorically  squared  itself  to 
resist  (he  swift  onslaught  of  her  invec- 
tives ;  she  gathered  her  skirts  about 
her  as  she  passed  through  the  room, 
with  the  air  of  one  fain  to  avoid  con- 
tamination,  and  stepping  forth  as  one 
who  shakes  the  dust  from  off  her  pru- 
nella shoes  as  a  testimony  against 
those  she  is  leaving,  she  took  the  road 
home.  Temperance's  mouth  was  very 
grim,  and  a  hectic  spot  burned  the 
sallowness  of  her  cheeks,  but  she  said 
to  herself  as  she  strode  off  briskly  : 

"Well — 1  'spose  its  onchristian  but 
its  a  mighty  relief  t'  have  told  that  Mrs. 
Ranger  just  once  what  I  think  of  her 
— but  oh  pore  Lanty  and  pore,  pore 
M'bella !  To  think  it  should  come 
about  like  this  t " 

And  the  red  spots  upon  her  cheeks 
were  extinguished  by  bitter  tears. 

The  sewing  circle  broke  up  in  con- 
fusion ;  one  could  only  hear  a  chorus 
of  "Well— I  declare"  "It  beats  all  I" 
"  Did  you  ever!"  as  the  ladies  bundled 
their  work  together — each  eager  to  get 
home  to  spread  the  news  and  to  dis- 
cuss  the  matter  with  her  husband. 

And  that  night  in  the  starlight  Ma- 
bella  waited  at  the  little  gate  listening 
for  the  hoof  beats  of  Lanty's  horse 
from  one  side,  and  the  cry  of  little 
Dorothy  from  the  house,  behind  her. 

And  when  Lanty  came — alas  !  What 
"God's  glowworms"  in  the  sky  re- 
vealed, we  shall  not  say. 

But  we  will  echo  the  words  of  Tem- 
perance— "Pore  Lanty — pore,  pore 
M'bella ! " 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 



By  C.   W.   Nash;   with  Drawings  by  the  Author. 

PERHAPS  the  most  sociable  of  all 
our  native  birds  is  the  chipping 
sparrow,  which  usually  makes  its  ap- 
pearance between  the  tenth  and  the 
fifteenth  of  April.  It  may  be  distin- 
guished from  all  our  other  summer 
sparrows  by  its  small  size  and  brig'ht 
chestnut  crown,  and  by  its  confiding; 
g'entle  ways.  If  not  harassed  by  cats 
it  will  frequent  the  doorsteps  and  ver- 
andahs of  our  houses,  and  build  its 
nest  in  any  ornamental  shrub  about 
the  lawn.  I  once  saw  a  nest  placed 
among  some  trailing  plants  growing 
from  a  hanging  basket  on  a  verandah 
at  a  friend's  house ;  the  young  were 
raised  and  the  old  birds  visited  them 
and  fed  them,  without  paying  the 
slightest  attention  to  the  people  who 
might  be  occupying  the  verandah  at 
the  time. 

Chippy's  simple  nest  structure  is 
composed  of  fine  roots  and  grrass, 
always  lined  with  horsehair ;  in  it  are 
laid  four  or  five  pale  bluish  eggs, 
spotted  and  scrawled  over  with  pur- 
plish brown. 

These  birds  remain  with  us  until 
about  the  middle  of  September,  when 
they  start  off  on  their  long  journey  to 
the  extreme  southern  States  and  Mex- 
ico, where  they  spend  the  winter. 

About  the  same  date  as  that  on 
which  the  chippy  arrives,  the  yellow- 
bellied  woodpeckers  or  sapsuckers  ap- 
pear, and  they  are  generally  quite 
common  about  our  orchards  and  gar- 
dens for  a  week  or  two,  after  which 
the  great  majority  of  them  drift  on 
northward.  They  breed  throughout 
their  range  in  Ontario,  but  the  bulk  of 
them  resort  to  the  northern  forests  for 
that  purpose.  This  species  is  worthy 
of  some  attention,  because  it  is  owing 

to  its  propensity  for  boring  trees  to 
obtain  the  rising  sap  that  more  or  less 
odium  has  attached  to  ail  the  other 
woodpeckers,  though  none  of  them  are 
addicted  to  this  practice. 

The  sapsucker  undoubtedly  does  in 
the  spring  drill  small  holes  in  the  bark 
of  trees  to  obtain  the  sap  which  flows 
from  them,  but  though  I  have  investi- 
gated the  matter  pretty  closely  during 
the  last  thirty  years,  I  have  never  yet 
seen  any  greater  harm  result  to  the 
tree  from  the  bird's  operations  than  a 
slight  disfigurement,  and  that  only  oc- 
casionally. This  bird's  food  consists  of 
insects  which  it  obtains  from  the  trunk 
and  larger  branches  of  trees,  princi- 
pally of  those  mature  insects  which  re- 
sort to  such  places  for  the  purpose  of 
hiding  in  the  crevices  or  depositing 
their  eggs  there.  It  also  eats  large 
numbers  of  ants.  So  that  apart  from 
its  sap-drinking  proclivities  the  bird's 
usefulness  is  beyond  question,  and  I 
am  satisfied  that  fruit  growers  and 
horticulturists  would  find  it  to  their  in- 
terest to  protect  this  and  all  other 
woodpeckers,  instead  of  destroying 
ing  them,  for  they  form  the  natural 
safeguard  against  the  tree-boring  in- 
Early  in  September  the  sapsuckers 
again  become  abundant  in  southern  On- 
tario for  a  time,  and  re-visit  their  springs 
haunts,  but  by  the  first  of  October 
they  have  all  sought  their  winter  home 
which  is  (for  the  bulk  of  them)  south 
of  latitude  37°. 

About  the  twentieth  of  April  the  first 
myrtle  warblers  will  in  all  probability 
show  themselves,  and  by  the  twenty- 
fifth  they  will  in  most  seasons  have  fcie- 
come  abundant  everywhere.  They  are 
readily  distinguishable  from  any  other 

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of  the  birds  frequenting  the  garden  at 
this  season,  by  the  four  clearly  marked 
yellow  patches  on  their  pluma^^e  ;  the 
crown,  tail  coverts  and  a  patch  on 
each  side  of  the  breast  being  clear  yel- 
low, the  rest  of  the  upper  parts  slaty 
blue  with  black  streaks,  beneath  white 
with  black  blotches  along  the  sides. 
Some  strange  movements  occasionally 
occur  amongst  these  birds,  for  though 
they  are  usually  among  the  most  abun- 
dant of  all  our  feathered  visitors,  there 
are  seasons  when  they  are  conspicuous 
by  their  absence  ;  in  such  cases  they 
have  probably  gone  northward  by  some 
other  than  their  ordinary  route.  In  the 
fall,  however,  1  have  never  missed  see- 
ing them  at  their  proper  time  or  in 
their  usual  number. 

After  the  middle  of  September  they 
begin  to  re-appear,  and  are  soon  abun- 
dant, and  so  remain  until  the  frosty 
nights  of  October  warn  them  to  work 
southward.  They  winter  in  abundance 
in  southern  Texas,  and  great  numbers 
pass  on  from  there  through  Mexico  to 
Central  America  as  far  even  as  Pana- 
ma, They  are  hardy  birds,  however, 
and  some  winter  as  far  north  as  the 
lower  half  of  the  Mississippi  Valley, 
Xhis  species  is  the  most  abundant,  as 
K'ell  as  the  first  representative  of  that 
large  class  of  birds  known  as  the  war- 
blers. Of  these  we  have  about  thirty 
species  regularly  visiting  us  in  greater 
or  less  abundance  every  season.  Why 
they  were  originally  called  warblers  I 
do  not  know,  unless  it  was  because 
they,  as  a  class,  are  possessed  of  less 
musical  powers  than  most  other  classes 
of  birds.  At  any  rate  but  very  few  of 
them  are  entitled  to  take  any  rank 
vthatever  as  songsters,  and  of  these 
fewer  still  ever  exhibit  their  musical 
qualities  whilst  with  us.  On  two  or 
three  occasions  I  have  heard  the  myr- 
tle warbler  sing,  and  1  am  inclined  to 
think  that  this  species  is  entitled  to  be 
considered  the  prima  donna  or  star  of 
the  whole  warbler  tribe.  However,  as 
there  are  so  many  others  that  I  have 
never  heard  sing  at  all,  any  of  which 
could  quite  easily  do  better,  without 
even  then  being  equal  to  a  very  ordin- 
ary songster,  I  won't  pretend  to  give 

a  judgment  in  the  matter.  Although 
the  warblers  as  a  class  are  not  to  be 
highly  commended  as  song  birds,  they 
certainly  are  to  be  admired  for  the 
beauty  of  their  plumage,  many  of  them 
being  among  the  most  brilliant  of  our 
feathered  creatures.  Not  only  are  they 
beautiful,  but  they  are  all  of  them  of 
the  greatest  value  from  an  economic 
standpoint.  Their      food      consists 

throughout  the  spring  and  summer  en- 
tirely of  insects,  varied  in  the  fall  by 
elderberries  and  other  small  wild  fruits. 
Unfortunately  very  few  of  them  can 
properly  be  called  garden  birds;  the 
commoner  ones  amongst  them  are 
sometimes  noticeable  for  a  short  time 
during  their  hurried  visit  in  the  spring 
and  again  on  their  more  leisurely  con- 
ducted trip  towards  the  south  in  the 
autumn.  The  great  majority  do  not 
breed  with  us,  and  none  of  them  have 
any  of  the  nice  familiar  ways  or  well- 
marked  individualities  which  niake 
other  birds  so  interesting  about  our 


Some  fine  morning  about  the  twenty- 
fifth  of  April  your  ears  may  be  saluted 
with  a  drawling  "  miou,"  something 
like  the  noise  made  by  a  cat  that  has 
been  out  all  night  and  is  now  repenting 
it.  If  you  look  in  the  direction  the 
sound  seems  to  come  from,  you  may 
possibly  see  a  dark,  slate-coloured  bird, 
but  it  is  also  probable  that  you  will  see 
nothing,  and  then  you  may  hear  the 
same  note  apparently  coming  from 
somewhere  else.  The  sound  is  uttered 
by  a  cat-bird,  and  the  bird  is  something 
of  a  ventriloquist.  So  long  as  the 
bird  knows  that  it  is  not  seen  it  will 
sit  openly  on  a  branch  and  squall  at 
you,  but  directly  it  finds  itself  observed 
it  drops  into  a  thicket  and  hides. 
Don't  abuse  and  condemn  the  cat-bird 
too  hastily,  because  it  has  this  hideous 
alarm  note.  It  is  like  some  human 
beings  I  know  who  have  one  bad  habit, 
which  is  sometimes  a  nuisance,  but 
who  in  all  other  respects  are  valuable 
citizens.  The  cat-bird  has  no  other 
bad  propensities,  and  is  in  every  way 
a  useful  feathered  citizen.     If  there  is 

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any  moderately  thick  shrubbery  about 
the  garden  the  cat-birds  will  be  very 
likely  to  decide  upon  it  for  their  nest- 
ing site.  They  are  not  very  particular 
about  close  concealment  if  they  find 
they  are  not  likely  to  be  hara!<sed  and 
disturbed.  Last  year  a  pair  built  in  a 
small  heap  of  brush  1  had  thrown  to- 
gether not  thirty  yards  from  the  back 
door  of  my  house,  and  a  pair  have  a 
rest  somewhere  near  me  again  this 
season.  The  nest  is  not  much  more 
than  a  rough  platform  of  twigs  lined 
with  fine  roots,  and  in  it  are  deposited 
four  or  five  very  beautiful  dark  bluish- 
green  eggs. 

As  a  songster  the  cat-bird  is  unex- 
celled by  any  of  our  native  birds,  the 
great  variety  of  its  notes  and  the  spirit 
and  vim  with  which  it  utters  them  are 
charming.  This  particularly  applies  to 
its  morning  and  evening  songs,  which 
are  .usually  given  from  the  topmost 
twig  of  some  tall  tree,  but  it  has  an- 
other softer  and  even  more  beautiful 
song  which  it  sings  at  all  hours  of  the 
day  in  the  nesting  time.  This  is  gen- 
erally sung  while  the  bird  is  hidden  in 
some  bush  near  where  the  female  is 
sitting,  and  may  be  intended  for  her 
benefit  alone.  To  hear  it  you  have  to 
approach  very  cautiously,  for  if  the 
bird  hears  or  sees  you  the  song  imme- 
diately ceases,  and  the  bird  comes  to- 
wards you  with  wings  drooping  and 
tail  jerking,  and  promptly  overwhelms 
you  with  his  cat-like  yells  so  that  you 
are  glad  to  get  away  and  leave  them  in 

The  cat-bird's  food  consists  princi- 
pally of  foliage -eating  caterpillars  with 
a  sprinkling  of  beetles  and  other  in- 
sects, and  occasionally  after  a  rain  they 
will  be  seen  on  the  lawn  and  about  the 
flower  beds  hunting  for  cutworms  and 
other  underground  larvae.  After  the 
cherries  ripen  they  will  visit  them,  and 
perhaps  levy  some  small  toll  for  their 
services,  but  all  they  take  they  have 
well  earned.  After  the  young  have 
flown  they  leave  our  gardens,  and  re- 
sort to  the  bush,  where  they  remain  in 
seclusion  during  the  moulting  season. 
By  the  end  of  September  the  bulk  have 
gone  on  their  journey  to  the  south  of 


the  southern  States,  where  they  spend 
the  winter, 


Of  the  swallow  tribe  we  have  five 
well-known  species  in  Ontario,  viz., 
the  white- breasted  swallow,  purple 
martin,  barn  swallow,  clifF  swallow 
and  sand  martin;  the  first  four  of  these 
have  attached  themselves  so  entirely 
to  the  habitations  of  men  that  I  sup- 
pose I  ought  to  mention  them  here. 
The  sand  martin  h:is  still  preserved  its 
independence,  and  up  to  now  has  de- 
clined to  have  anything  to  do  with 
men  or  their  "contraptions."  The 
white-breasted  swallow  formerly  built 
its  nest  in  holes  in  trees,  and  so  did 
the  purple  martin,  but  now  they  invari> 
ably  select  a  hole  or  crevice  in  some 
building,  or  take  possession  of  a  bird 
house  erected  for  their  benefit.  From 
these  places  the  house  sparrow  is  now 
driving  them  by  taking  possession  dur- 
ing the  winter  whilst  the  swallows  are 
away,  and  persistently  remaining  in 
occupation  after  their  return.  If  this 
continues  all  over  the  country  the 
swallows  will  perforce  be  obliged  to 
again  resort  to  their  original  nesting' 
sites,  and  we  shall  lose  from  about  our 
houses  a  most  useful  class  of  birds. 
The  barn  swallow  plasters  its  open- 
topped  mud-constructed  nest  against 
the  sides  of  the  bam  or  under  the 
porch,  or  any  place  that  promises  safe- 
ty and  a  cover,  and  has  not  as  yet  been 
molested  to  any  great  extent  by  the 
sparrows,  the  nest  not  being  quite  bl^ 
enough  to  suit  their  purpose.  The 
cliff  swallows  build  in  colonies,  and 
plaster  their  curious  bottle-shaped 
nests  against  the  outside  of  a  barn; 
these  nests  the  sparrows  rather  fancy, 
and  some  colonies  have  been  broken 
up  by  them.  This  will  cause  the  whole 
swallow  tribe  to  leave  the  vicinity  of 
our  towns  where  the  sparrows  con- 
gregate most,  and  we  shall  not  profit  by 
the  exchange,  though,  as  our  cities 
grow,  we  should  have  had  to  lose  the 
swallows  anyway,  and  perhaps  it  is 
better  to  have  the  house  sparrow  than 
no  bird  life  at  all. 

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By  the  tenth  of  May  the 
tide  of  migration  is  at  its 
height,  the  majority  of  our 
various  species  of  warb- 
lers will  have  arrived, 
among'st  them  the  well- 
known  yellow  warbler,  the 
only  really  friendly  one  of 
the  family.  It  remains  in 
and  about  the  garden  all 
through  the  summer,  and 
builds  its  nest  near  our 
bouses,  but  of  this  I  will 
speak  next  month.  Among 
the  others  that  will  pro- 
bably be  noticed  are  the 
chestnut  -  sided  warbler, 
black- throated  blue,  black- 
throated  green,  black  and 
white  Blackburnian  and 
Magnolia  warblers  ;  the 
last  two  of  these  are  cer- 
tainly among  the  most 
beautiful  of  our  birds.  A 
written  description  of  these 
graceful  little  creatures  ut- 
terly fails  to  convey  any 
proper  idea  of  the  bril- 
liancy of  their  colouring. 
The  Blackburnian  may, 
however,  be  distinguished 
by  its  black  back  and 
crown,  the  latter  having  a 
central  spot  of  orange, 
while  the  rest  of  the  head 
and  the  whole  throat  is  a 
most  vivid  orange  colour, 
large  white  wing  bars. 
The  Blackburnians  do  not 
remain  very  long  with  us. 
By  the  twenty-fifth  of  May 
they  have  gone  on  to  the 
woods  north  of  us,  where 
they  breed.  Early  in  Sep- 
tember they  return  much 
duller  in  plumage,  drift 
along  with  the  crowd  of 
other  warblers,  and  so  are 
much  less  noticeable  than 
when  clad  in  their  flaming 
spring  suit.  They  winter 
south  of  the  southern 
States,  many  going  as  far 
as  Central  America. 

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In  the  estimation  of  a  great  many 
people  the  magnolia  warbler  equals  or 
even  surpasses  the  Blackburnian  in 
brilliancy  of  colouring.  It  c6rtainly 
has  greater  variety.  Everyone  has 
his  fancy  about  these  things,  ;ind  1 
prefer  the  Blackburnian.  The  illustra- 
tion shows  the  arrangement  of  the 
markings,  and  the  general  colouration 
is  as  follows  :  crown,  clear  ash  bor- 
dered by  a  white  stripe  running  from 
the  eye  to  the  nape  ;  below  that  a 
broad  black  stripi:  from  the  beak  to  and 
joining  th.- 
black  patch 
on  the  back ; 
throat,  clear 
back,  dark 
olive  with  a 
black  patch 
in  the  cen- 
tre, tail  cov- 

yellow, large 
white  wing 
patch,  be- 
neath deep 
yellow,  with 
two  stripe  ; 
of  black  on 
each  side, 
fused  into  a 
patch  on  the 
breast  ;  tail 
with  a  white 
blotch  on  all 
but  the  cen. 
tre  pair.  The 



duller,  and 
the  mark- 
ings less  distinct.  Like  the  Black- 
burnian, this  little  beauty  doe.s  not 
breed  in  southern  Ontario,  but  it 
does  not  go  very  far  north  of  us  before 
selecting  its  nesting  place.  1  expect  be- 
fore long  we  shall  have  conclusive  evi- 
dence that  this,  as  well  as  most  of  our 
visitors,  raise  their  young  in  the  Mus- 
kokadistrict.  At  the  beginning  of  Sep- 
tember the  magnolias  again  appear,  on 
their  way  to  Central  America,  where 
they  pass  the  winter. 

The  black-throated  blue  warbler  is  a 
very  neat  little  bird,  easily  recognizable 
by  its  blue  back  and  white  under  parts, 
with  a  well-marked  black  patch  oo 
the  throat,  and  white  wing  patches. 
The  female  is  more  difficult  to  identify, 
being  a  very  plainly  clad  little  woman, 
the  upper  part  of  her  plumage  is  dull 
olive  green,  the  under  part  yellowish 
white  ;  there  is  always  some  trace  of  a 
white  wing  patch,  but  sometimes  this 
is  very  slight.  This  species  is  not  of 
much  inter- 
est to  us,  as 

ses  on  t< 
north,  and 
we  see  it  no 
more  until 
its  return  in 
the  black- 
green  war- 
bler we  have 
more  con- 
cern ;  it  is 
quite  com- 
mon and  re- 
its  range  in 
the  province 
though,  un- 
less Ihereare 
a  good  many 
about,  it  is 
not  apt  to 
stay  in  the 
garden  to 
nest,  its  preference  seemingly  being  for 
rather  open  places,  where  cedars  and 
hemlocks  are  dotted  about.  In  some 
large  gardens  I  know,  I  find  it  settled 
every  summer.  It  has  rather  a  plain- 
tive sort  of  song,  which  it  keeps  up  all 
through  the  season,  even  in  the  hot- 
test weather,  when  nearly  all  birds  are 
silent.  They  leave  us  early  in  October, 
and  go  south  to  Central  America. 

The    chestnut-sided    warbler    is    as 
compared    with   those  just  mentioned 

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quite  a  plainly  aitired  Utile  fellow, 
whose  name  suHicienily  describes  him. 
Although  ihis  bird's  appearance  does 
not  render  it  very  noticeable  among 
the  more  gaily  atlired  of  his  fellows, 
yet  as  it  is  one  of  the  few  warblers  that 
really  does  warble,  it  is  worthy  of  men- 
tion. In  fact,  the  bird  has  some  claim 
to  be  considered  a  songster.  On  sev- 
eral occasions  I  ha\  e  heard  it,  and 
have  been  surprised  at  the  volume  of 
sound  that  can  be  produced  by  such  a 
little  body. 

birds  breed 
their  range 
in  Ontario, 
quite  fre- 
quently  se- 
lecting  a 
bush  or 
small  tree  in 
a  garden  for 

po'e.  ""on 
one  occasion 
a  pair  built 
their  nest  in 
a  currant 
bush  in  my 

the  town  ol 

hatch  ed 
but  the  in- 
evitabl  e 
prowling  cat 
found  them 

s  t  roy  e  d  wilsons  thb 


Another  and  most  beautiful  little 
warbler  that  frequently  makes  its  home 
about  our  premises  is  the  Redstart. 
The  male  of  this  species  is  black  all 
over  the  head  and  upper  parts  with  the 
base  of  the  wing  and  tail  feathers  liery 
orange  and  a  largeorange  blotch  on  each 
side  of  the  breast,  the  rest  of  the  under 
parts  white.  The  female  is  olive  gray 
and  has  the  orange  of  the  male  re- 
placed by   yellow.     This    bird   differs 

from  all  its  cousins  in  that  it  has  an 
individuality  of  its  own.  It  is  the  most 
restless  little  creature  that  wears 
feathers  ;  not  only  does  it  move  con- 
stantly and  rapidly  from  branch  to 
branch  but  it  keeps  every  part  of  its 
body  also  on  the  move  even  to  its  very 
tail  feathers  which  it  opens  and  shuts 
as  if  to  display  its  colouration  to  the  best 
advantage.  The  Redstart  builds  a  very 
neat  and  pretty  little  nest  in  the  fork 
of  some  young  tree  and  lays  four  or 
five  eggs,  grayish  white    doited    with 

shades  of 
brown  and 
purple. They 
leave  us 
early  in  Sep- 
tember and 
go  far  south 

having  a 
there  will 
appear  a 
quiet,  grace- 
ful bird, clad 

coat.  Across 
the  breast 
there  is  a 
band  of  pale 
sH — "vBKRv.  "  buff,  shaded 

with  dusky 
olive,  and  faintly  spotted  with  darker 
markings.  This  is  Wilson's  Thrush  or 
"  Veery,"as  it  is  commonly  called ;  alto- 
gether as  well  set  up,  well  groomed  and 
neat  a  little  fellow  as  can  be  found  in  the 
bird  world.  I  believe  more  has  been 
written  in  the  favour  of  this  bird  by  en- 
thusiasts than  of  any  half  dozen 
others.  With  most  of  it  1  am  quite  In 
accord,  but  I  do  take  exception  to  the 
lavish  praise  that  has  been  awarded  to 
the  bird  for  its  song  which  is  altogether 

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unmerited.       When    several    of    these  matters  little  what  items  are  required 

birds    are   singing'    together   on    some  to  produce    it.     This  thrush  is  geae- 

still,  lovely  evening  in  June  the  effect  rally    very    abundant    throughout  the 

of  their  notes,  taken  together  with  the  country,  breeding  in  all  wooded  places, 
beauty  0/  their  surroundings,  produces  The  nest,  a  rather  loosely  built  affair, 

a  feeling  of  content  and  happiness  that  is  placed  in  a  bush  near  the  ground, 

is  indescribable  and  the  ideas  that  then  The  eggs  are  four  or  five,  of  a  beauti' 

become  associated  with  the  birds'  notes  ful  greenish  blue  colour, 
are  inseparable  from  them  afterwards  The    Veeries    leave  us   quite    early, 

so  that  they  are  to  a  certain  extent  re-  most   of  them    having    gone    by    the 

vived  each  time  we  hear  the  song.     But  twenty-fifth  of  Aug^ust,  though  they  do 

the  song  itself  is   not  the  triumph  of  not  go  so  far  south  as  many  birds  that 

bird  music  it  is  sometimes  said  to  be  ;  stay  much  later.     They  winter  princi- 

however,  one  must  not  be  too  analy-  pally  south  of  the  United  States  ;  some 

tical  in  these  things  and  so  long  as  the  few,  however,  stay  in  the  Gulf  States 

pleasant    impression    is    produced    it  and  Florida. 

To  be  concluded  next  month. 


TT  was  late  in  the  woods  where  the  north  wind  swept, 

It  was  late  in  the  northern  day, 
When  nty  comrade  and  I  up  the  beech-ridge  crept. 
And  found  the  bip  moose  at  bay. 

He  was  wild  with  rage,  and  his  eyes  were  red, 

And  the  foam  lay  on  his  breast ; 
But  his  strength  went  down  'neath  the  hissing  lead, 

And  the  hand  on  the  trigger  pressed. 

It  was  cold  in  the  snow  neath  the  sunset's  flood. 

As  we  leaned  on  our  rifles  there  ; 
And  watched  the  red  sun  tint  the  redder  blood, 

On  the  scene  of  his  death  and  despair. 

Reginald  Gourlay. 

Digitized  byGoOgIC 


\o.  v.— MR.  WILLIAM   McLENNAN. 


ILLIAM  McLENNAN,  writer  of 
prose  and  verse,  is  a  Canadian 
who  is  receiving  those  rarest  of  tri- 
butes, honour  and  appreciation  in  his 
own  country,  as  well  as  from  the  Eng- 
lish-speaking world. 

Mr.  McLennan  was  born  in  Mon- 
treal, May  8th,  1856,  and  is  the  second 
son  of  one  of  that  city's  representative 
men,  Mr,  Hugh  McLennan,  a  man  who 

has  identified  himself  with  the  best  in- 
terests of  the  Dominion  for  many 
years.  He  was  educated  at  the  Mon- 
treal High  School;  graduated  B.C.  L. 
at  McGill  University  in  1880,  and  one 
year  later  was  admitted  a  notary  public 
of  the  Province  of  Quebec. 

Long  belore  attaining  his  twentieth 
year  Mr,  McLennan  began  writing 
both  in  prose  and  verse,  at  first  meet- 



ing  with  that  indifferent  success  so  try- 
ing to  ambitious  youth  ;  but  the  laurel 
leaveii  soon  unfolded  in  the  form  of 
some  excellent  trnnslations  made  for  a 
column  in  the  Montreal  Gasetlc,  edited 
by  John  Lesperance,  who  afterward 
wrote  of  the  subject  of  this  sketch  as 
being  "One  of  the  most  substantial 
contributors  to  Canadian  literature." 

Mr,  McLennan  values  verse  transla- 
tion most  highly  as  training  for  a  pro- 
per appreciation  of  the  comparative 
value  of  words  and  propriety  of  expres- 
sion ;  his  efforts  in  this  connection  also 
having  a  practical  outcome  in  the  shape 
of  a  little  volume  enlitled  "  Songs  of 
Old  Canada,"  which  was  published  by 
Dawson  in  1886.  This  was  followed 
by  a  series  of  stories  illustrative  of 
Canadian  life  told  by  one,  Melchior,  in 
his  limited  vocabulary  of  English  and 
published  in  Harper's  MagaEtne  in 

b  or  some  two  years  Mr.  McLennan 
worked  on  the  period  from  1642  to 
1700,  confining  himself  to  Montreal 
and  to  the  history  of  certain  families  ; 
only  publishing,  however,  a  monograph 
on  Dulhut,  the  explorer,  which  appear- 
ed in  Harpers  Magaehie,  one  on  Basset, 
the  first  Canadian  notary,  in  Le  Canada- 
Fraiii^ais,  and  a  sketch  of  early  Mont- 
real in  the  Board  of  Trade  Souvenir  of 

1893.  From  work  of  similar  descrip- 
tion on  the  French  Revolution,  Mr. 
McLennan  evolved  an  interesting  series 
of  short  stories,  "  As  told  to  His 
Grace,"  also  brought  out  in  Harper's 

Mr.  McLennan's  training  as  a  notary 
has  unquestionably  been  of  immense 
value  to  him  in  his  historical  work,  and 
to  this  and  his  knowledge  of  the  forms 
and  nature  of  old  documents,  much  of 
his  successful  and  masterly  handling  of 
intricate  problems  may  justly  be  attri- 

That  Mr.  McLennan's  intimacy  with 
certain  historical  periods  ensures  per- 
petual life  to  his  writings  is  beyond 
doubt,  and  it  has  likewise  proved  an 
educational  stimulant  to  the  large  mass 
of  readers  to  whom  study  of  any  des- 
cription is  irksome,  unless  relieved  by 
pleasing  incident  and  sustained  inter- 
est. His  two  books,  "  Spanish  John," 
and  the  recently  published  "Span  o' 
Life,"  written  in  collaboration  with 
Miss  Mcllwrailh.  of  Hamilton,  are 
both  "historical  novels,"  whose  ele- 
gance of  language  and  purity  of  style 
suggest  the  art  of  the  ever-lamented 
Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 

Mr.  McLennan  holds  many  positions 
and  has  varied  interests;  he  is  the  offi- 
cial notary  of  the  Bank  of  Montreal,  is 
a  representative  fellow  in 
'aw  of  McGill  University, 
a  member  of  the  Council 
of  the  Art  Association  of 
Montreal,  and  President 
of  the  Fraser  Institute  of 
that  city. 

Of  his  poems  much 
might  be  written  did 
space  permit- — ^but  the 
world  will  sway  to  the 
rhythm  of  the  song,  from 
the  "Span  o'  Life,''  lately 
set  to  music  by  Mr,  Fred- 
erick F.  Bullard,  begin- 

"  In  S|>al1i^l1  hands  I've  bent 
Wilh  Spanish  grace  and 

'vc  scoiired  LepHnlo  of  the 
And  Sjiain  of  Boal>dil ; " 



and  what  heart  has 
not  beaten  sympa- 
thetically to, — 

Nor  braid  cneitg^h  this 
To    part    my    love 

The  graphic  pen 
pictures  of  old  Ca- 
nada to  be  found 
throughout  this 
book  are  invaluable, 
and  willonly  become 
the  more  so  with  the 
march  of  time.  Who 
has  ever  pictured 
Louisbourg,  always 
associated  mentally 

with   the   French  a  cori 

king's  question. 
"Are  the  streets  paved  with  gold?" 
with  this — "  Louisbourg-,  a  pretentious 
and  ccstly  fortification,  but  miserably 
situate  and  falling  to  decay  for  want  of 
the  most  necessary  repairs.  There  it 
was,  shut  in  on  the  one  hand  by  the 
monotonous  sea,  wild  and  threatening 
with  its  ice,  and  snow  and  storm  in 
winter,    sad    and    depressing    with   its 

other  by    an    unbroken    wilderness  of 
rock  and  firs"? 

Two  more  intensely  interesting  views 
of  the  past  are  given  us  of  those  long 
June  days  in  Quebec,  waiting  the  com- 
ing of  the  English.  "  There  the  white 
coats  of  the  regulars  mingled  with  the 
blue  and  grey  of  the  Canadians  and 
volunteers.  Indians  stalked  or  squat- 
ted about,  taking  no  part  in  a  labour 
they  could  not  understand,"  and  "  Be- 
fore this  restless,  toiling  mass  swept 
the  great  empty  river,  changing  its 
colour  with  every  change  of  sky  which 
floated  over  it,  while  behind  stretched 
the  beautiful  valley  of  the  St.  Charles, 
its  gentle  upward  sweep  of  woods 
broken  only  by  the  green  fields  and 
white  walls  of  Charlesbourg  until  it 
met  the  range  of  blue  and  purple  hills 
which  guards  it  to  the  north.     At  a 

point  opposite  where  we  were  standing 
the  nearer  mountains  opened  out  and 
shewed  a  succession  of  golden  hills 
which  seemed,  in  the  tender  evening 
light,  as  the  gates  of  some  heavenly 
country  where  all  wa.s  peace,  and  the 
rumour  of  war  could  never  enter." 

In  this  author's  study  there  is  a  con- 
viction that  its  occupant  has  found 
a  dearly  loved  life  work — that  there, 
with  his  favourite  "masters  of  the 
pen,"  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  Defoe,  Le 
Sage,  Froissart  and.  to  use  his  own 
words,  "  our  own  Champlain  and  Dol- 
lier  de  Casson,"  surrounded  by  re- 
lics of  the  old  Canada  he  is  preserving 
and  immortalizing.  William  McLennan 
will  continue  to  work  out  the  brilliant 
promise  of  his  earlier  years.  The  wide 
windows  look  out  upon  an  awakened 
garden — from  the  scented  screen  of 
apple  blossom  the  soothing  hum  of  the 
bees  mingles  harmoniously  with  that 
of  the  great  human  hive  without  the 
gates — as  with  exquisite  appreciation 
come  involuntarily  to  one's  lips,  Mat- 
thew Arnold's  beautiful  lines, — 

•'  or  toil,  unsever'd  from  tranqiiillily  ! 
Of  labour,  thai  in  lasting  fruit  oulffrows 
Far  noisier  schemes,    accomplished    in  re- 

E.   Q.  V. 

Digitized  by  Google 



By   W.  Ridoul   Wadsworth. 

OST      only  when   he   wants  to    replenish  his 

peo-      larder.     The    greatest    destruction    of 
o  f     game   is    probably  caused  by  wolves. 

hern      In  winter  especially  they  run  dowo  and  . 

ario  destroy  great  numbers  of  deer;  let 
an  unlucky  deer  find  itself  on  glare  ice 
or  partially  crusted  snow,  with  a  pack 
of  hungry  wolves  on  its  trail,  and  its 
fate  is  sealed. 

But  the  wolf,  save  when  surrounded 
by  a  crowd  of  ravenous  companions,  is 
an  arrant  coward,  and  so  wary  and 
cunning  that  it  is  almost  impossible  to 
take  him,  even  in  a  trap.  A  few  are 
poisoned  during  the  winter  as  they 
hang  around  the  lumber-camps,  on  the 
lookout  for  refuse.  Bui  the  number 
taken  must  be  very  small  ;  the  bounty 
of  ten  dollars  per  scalp  that  the  Gov- 
ernment offers  seems  to  be  too  meagre 
an  inducement  for  systematic  hunting, 
and  these  pests  continue  their  depre- 
dations comparatively  undisturbed. 
Some  still  night  you  leave  the  bright 

would  be 

that  por- 
tion of 
west  of 
the  Otta- 
wa Riv- 
er and 
North  of 
the  Cana- 

dian Pacific  main  line,  especially 
red  deer,  cariboo  and  moose — 
the  "  vanishing  moose  "  of  the 
pessimists  is  a  myth.  Here, 
away  from  the  scrutiny  of  game- 
wardens  and  justices  of  the 
peace,  game  laws  are  more  or 
less  of  a  nullity  ;  but  they  cer- 
tainly are  effective  in  this  re- 
spect, however,  that  they  deter 
parties  from  entering  the  dis- 
trict for  the  express  purpose  ot" 
hunting.  The  Indian  may  kill 
everything  and  anything  ho 
wants  Tor  his  own  consumption, 
but  as  the  sale  of  hides  and 
heads  is  prohibited,    he    hunts 



the  howl  of  some  lone  wolf,  the 
sentinel  of  the  pack.  It  is  pro- 
longed for  some  moments,  then 
again  all  is  still,  and  the  silence 
seems  even  deeper  than  before. 
With  strained  ears  you  wait  for 
a  repetition  ot  that  blood-curlirg 
sound;  and  once  more  it  rises 
clear  and  close,  followed  by  a 
rattle  of  sharp,  short  barks — 
the  cries  of  the  pack  on  the  trail 
of  some  fleeing  deer.  The  direc- 
tion of  the  .sounds  show  that  the 
poor  creature  is  making  for  the 
water.  But  the  frenzied  yelps 
suddenly  cease.  Does  it  mean 
death  or  safety  for  the  animal? 
You  listen  and  listen  anxiously, 
wHKKii  rne  matawabika  river  kntbrs  the  and  seek  to  pierce  the  darkness 

MONTREAL  RIVER.  that  envelops  the  shores  till  you 

begin  to  doubt  your  own  powers 
camp-fire  and  paddle  alone  down  the  of  sight  and  hearing.  At  length  by  the 
dark  lake.  Not  a  sound  strikes  the  rustling  of  the  night-breeze  in  ihe 
ear.  The  silence  is  oppressive  ;  you  birches  (which  seems,  however,  but  to 
keep  thinking  how  awful  it  would  increase  your  sense  of  loneliness  and 
be  to  be  lost  in  this  solitude.  Then,  depression),  you  turn  the  canoe  and 
suddenly,  from  the  shore  beside  you  paddle  swiftly  back  towards  the  dis- 
comesa  sound  that  for  the  moment  tant  camp-fire,  eager  for  the  compan- 
chills  your  blood,  it  is  so  unexpected,  ionship  of  your  fellow- voyageurs. 
so  weird — a  long,  inexpressibly  dismal  On    the  shores  of  every  little  lake, 

howl,  like  the  cry  of  a  wounded  dog—  along  every  stream,  the  broken  bushes, 
the  torn  water-lilies,  the  catile- 
like  hoo''-prints  in  the  moist 
ground  tell  a  tale.  Around  cer- 
tain lily-covered  lakes,  favourite 
feedint;-;;rounds,  run  paths  half 
a  foot  deep,  beaten  in  the  mud 
by  the  moose.  The  underbrush, 
too,  is  everywhere  intersected  by 
deer-paths.  It  is  during  the  fly- 
season  I  hat  one  sees  most  big 
game,  in  the  early  morning 
or  evening  when  they  come 
down  to  the  water.  But  in  the 
summer  it  is  almost  impossible  to 
come  across  these  timid  animals 
in  the  bush,  as  the  leiist  noise — 
the  snapping  of  a  dry  twig  under 
the  foot,  the  rustling  of  a  dead 
leaf — startles  every  creatur"  in 
the  neighbourhood,  and  all  relreat 
to  the  densest  thickets.  What 
a  life  !  Escaping  danger  and  ob- 
AN  IMPROVISED  SAIL.  laining  food  seems  to  fill  up  the 

indiani  hirth-b^ri  ru«iiMg  ir/orr  thr  u--«j  ,,.,drr  n  iiantei.       Weary  Touod  of  their  Bxistcnce. 

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The  largest  of  the  inhabitants  of 
these  forests,  and,  in  fact,  one  of  the 
largest  wild  animals  on  this  continent, 
is  the  moose.  The  bull,  in  spite  of  his 
ung'ainlylong  legs  and  ridiculously  short 
neck,  has  a  certain  dignity  and  grandeur 
about  him,  no  doubt  lent  by  his  huge 
horns.  In  stupidity  I  doubt  if  he  has  a 
peer  among  the  deer  tribe.  He  appar- 
ently hasnotsenseenough  to  start  to  run 
when  suddenly  surprised  by  man  ;  but 
once  he  does  start  he  lumbers  along  for 

between  it  and  death  ?  But  when 
these  conscientious  scruples  are  re- 
moved by  the  knowledge  that  what 
you  shoot  will  not  be  wasted- — for  in- 
stance, when  there  is  a  camp  of  Indians 
in  the  neighbourhood,  ready  to  take  all 
the  fresh  meal  they  can  get  without 
working  for  it — what  a  difference  ! 
What  you  will  undertake  under  such 
circumstances  for  the  sake  of  a  shot  ! 
How  many  hours  you  will  lie  at  night 
beside  some  marshylake,  cold  and  wet, 
by     mos- 

hi  m    to 
stop.   He 

stands  as 

The  very 
size  of 
this  ani- 
mal has, 
dou  bt- 
less,  oft- 
en saved 
1  from 



of    t  h  e 
conscien  - 

man.    l-Or      Whoa  unh-riy  star  Ud  him  i^roj^  Ihr  pnik 
my      own  "*'■"  Iheir  saMiri  Krvvdarri 

p  a  r  t ,    I  "t      V  "^^J^^ J' 

have  oft- 
en felt  that  wanton  waste  of  so  much 
food  would  be  un^portsman-like  in  the 
extreme.  One  may  well  pride  himself  on 
such  self-restr.iint,  for  game  laws  are 
but  indifferent  bullet-proof  shields  at  the 
distance  of  a  dozen  paces. 

And,  after  all,  does  the  pleasure  of 
shooting  consist  solely  in  the  pulling  of 
the  trigger  ?  Is  there  not  a  keen  en- 
joyment merely  in  knowing  that  the 
animal  is  in  your  power,  that  nothing 
but  your  conscientious  scruples  stand 

—  that', 

it    does 

the   thrill 

of  excite- 
ment, the 
.■LL  MOOSE,  burst  of 

i/Mr.  U-adnroHh!/iaTlyjii3tBl<i  limr     e  X  U  1  ta- 

rf/o-/«..ifl..rf/«/j=/A"'-  tion.  — 

aCp^"^"""""  Alas! 

that  such 
pleasures  should  be  forbidden  by  the 
law  !  Each  wrong-doer  must  keep 
the  memory  of  his  sweet  trangressions 
locked  up  within  his  own  bosom. 

One  cold  misty  morning,  I  recollect, 
[  had  paddled  at  daybreak  with  the 
"  Convict  "  {of  the  suggestively  shorn 
pate)  to  where  a  small  creek  Rowed 
into  the  lake,  a  short  distance  from  the 
camp  to  have  a  try  for  speckled  trout. 
We  were  on  the  point  of  making  our  first 
cast  when,    behind    us    in    the  under- 

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brush,  n-e  heard  the  branches  break- 
ing and  iwigs  snapping.  "Bear!" 
whispered  my  companion,  picking 
up  the  rifie  and  cocking  it.  All 
was  quiel  for  a  moment,  Ihen 
came  another  crash  and — Disappoint- 
ment !  not  the  snout  of  a  bear,  but  the 
head  of  an  enormous  bull-moose.  A 
moose  has 
about  as  much 

,  was  for  the  lime  for- 


:e    of 
a  sup- 

mind  as 
e  r an  n  L 
This  bull  look- 
ed straight  at 
us,  and  then, 
for  no  appar- 
ent reason  in 
the  world,  and 
despite  the  fact 
that  the  "Con- 
vict "  had  a 
dead  bead  on 
him    at    about 

wards  us  out  of 
the  underbrush 
into  the  shal- 
low water.  He 
evidently  in- 
tended to  re- 
us for  startling 

denty  changing 
his  mind, 
ivheeled  round 
and  went  lum- 
bering down 
the  shore  past 
our  camp.  It 
must  have  been 
a  great  temp- 
tation   for    my 

friend    to    pull  Indian  simmer  cam 

the  trigger,  but 

he  overcame  it.  "What  horns;  and 
seven  cartridges  in  the  magazine  ! "  was 
all  he  said,  as  he  uncocked  the  rifle  and 
went  on  with  his  fishing.  A  moment  ! 
Then  a  .splash.  Another — and  another. 
Out  rushed  the  lines,  the  reels  shrieked, 
the  rods  bent,  and  our  quondam  friend, 

the  bull-m 

On  another  occasion  paddling  round 
a  bend  on  a  small  river  (with  a  big 
name) — the  Namabin-nagashishingue 
— we  saw,  on  a  small,  marshy  island 
ahead  of  us,  a  cow-moose  and  her 
No  sooner  did  the 
cow  see  us 
than,  deserting 
her  calf,  she 
dashed  into  the 
for  the  shore. 
But  maternal 
love  soon  got 
the  better  of  an 
instinctive  and 
momentary  im- 
pulse towards 
self  -  preserva- 
tion— she  had 
gone  but  a  few 
yards  when  we 

and,  in  spite  of 
the  fact  that  we 
were  only  a  few 

canoe-  lengths 

h^ck  to  the  is- 
land where  the 
calf  was  still 
standing.  Cow 
:ind  calf  stood 

for  a 


r  hei 


plunged  into 
the  river.  They 
reached  shore. 
The  cow  land- 
ed, and  after 
some  difficulty 
scrambled  up 
•  AT  A  >i.e.c.  POST.  the     muddy 

bank  and  dis- 
appeared in  the  bushes  ;  the  catf 
tried  to  follow  her,  but  stuck  fast  in 
the  soft  mud.  For  several  minutes 
it  struggled  and  plunged,  while  we 
cursed  our  stars  for  having  been  too 
la/y  to  reload  our  camera  with  fresh 
plates    the    preceding    evening.        At 

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length  a  desperate  effort  brought  the 
calf  to  the  top,  and  it  made  ofF  to  join 
its  mother,  well  out  of  an  adventure 
that  with  a  party  of  Indians  would  have 
certainly  ended  differently. 

It  is  said  that  thirty  years  ago  there 
was  not  a  red  deer  north  of  Lake  Nipis- 
sing'.  Now  they  are  very  plentiful ;  for 
as  the  country  to  the  south  is  gradu- 
ally being  settled,  they  are  moving 
northward.  Late  one  wild  September 
afternoon  we 
su  r  prised 

son  figured 
A  day  or  two 
later,  two  of 
our  party  had 
an  opportun- 
ity of  testing 
the  all-ab- 
sorbing curi- 
osity of  these 
P  addling 
round  a 
point,  they 
came  upon  a 
buck  stand- 
ing in  the 
water  ahead 
of  them,  and 
quickly  de- 
cided,  in- 
stead of  se- 

„„    ■„„    „    (.„„  THE    TYPICAL    IJALF- 

curmg  a  fine 

pair   of    ant-  hu  indmn  ■^■if,  a,,d  cku 

how  close  they  could  actually  approach 
before  he  took  to  flight.  With  this 
end  in  view,  while  one  slowly  paddled 
the  canoe,  the  other  held  up  in  front 
of  him  a  large  red  handkerchief. 
The  buck  stood  motionless,  gazing 
fixedly  at  the  strange  red  object. 
They  drew  nearer  and  nearer  till— 
at  length  they  were  little  more  than 
a  canoe-length  away  from  him  ;  slill 
he  was  staring  as  intently  a.s  ever,  and 

his  curiosity  seemed  as  unsated.  Then, 
all  at  once,  the  true  state  of  affairs 
seemed  to  dawn  upon  him;  he  turned 
like  a  flash,  dashed  up  the  bank,  and 
in  a  second  had  vanished  among  the 

Largely,  however,  as  the  sportsman 
relies  on  his  rifle  to  aid  him  in  eking 
out  his  scanty  supply  of  provisions,  he 
counts  more  largely  on  his  rod  ;  for  the 
lakes  and  rivers  to  the  South  of  the 
Height  of 
Land  are  full 
of  fish,  from 
the  lethargic 
pike,  thro  ugh 
the  ascend- 
ing scale  of 
pickerel,  sal- 
mon -  trout, 
and  bass,  to 
the  game 
trout,  the 
aristocrat  of 
fresh  water. 
Except inthe 
vicinity  of 
the  Hudson's 
Bay  Com- 
pany's posts 
hardly  any  of 
these  waters 
have ever had 
a  hook  drop- 
ped in  them, 
and  the  fish 
turbed    save 

,REED    H.B.C.     AGENT.  j^^      ^^^       p^^_ 

■  arr  drrssril  i«  gala  allirr.  datOTy      at- 

tacks of  their 

larger  neighbours.  Given  a  good  day, 
a  phantom  minnow  or  a  few  flies,  and 
a  little  common  sense,  you  can  catch 
fish  to  your  heart's  content. 

But,  alas  for  the  fisherman  !  The 
days  of  his  "fish  stories"  are  number- 
ed ;  three-quarters  of  his  former  prestige 
has  already  vanished.  It  is  the  camera 
Ihat  hath  done  him  this  dishonour.  In 
the  good  old  days  when  the  fisherman 
began  to  talk  of   ten-pound  bass,  en- 




vious  busybodies  could  do  no  more 
than  hint  that  more  fish  were  caught 
by  the  skilful  manipulation  of  the  long 
bow  than  were  ever  caught  by  rod  and 
line.  Now,  with  an  infantile  smile 
of  mock  credulity,  they  say  blandly, 
"  Yes,  a  ten-pound  bass  is  a  large 
fish.  Excuse  me,  but  would  you  mind 
showing  me  a  photograph  of  it  ?  " 
' — which  is,  at  the  least,  disconcerting 
for  the  fisherman. 

The  salmon-trout   fishing  of   Lake 
Temagami    is  perhaps  unexcelled  any- 
where.     In  the  early  autumn  when  the 
trout  come  into  shallow  water  to  spawn, 
and    again    in    the    spring,    wonderful 
catches    are  made  by  the    Indians  and 
Hudson's  Bay 
people,     who 
salt  down  en- 
ormous quan- 
tities of  these 
fish     for    the 
winter.       In 
1893,  we  saw 
a  forty-pound 
trout,     on     a 
near  Bear  Is- 
land  Post  on 
this  lake,  while 
one    morning 
two    of    us 

caught  seven,  „„„ 

ranging  from 
six  to  fifteen 
pounds,  and  a 
monster  of  twenty-four  pounds  that 
afforded  us  an  interesting  quarter  of 
an  hour  and  afterwards  fed  I  forget 
how  many  Indian  families.  But  fish- 
ing for  salmon-trout  does  not  rouse  my 
enthusiasm,for  during  the  summer  they 
lie  in  deep  water  and  must  be  taken 
with  the  troll.  What  chance  has  even 
a  game  fish  of  doing  himself  justice 
when  caught  by  a  heavy  trolling-line — 
and,  to  my  mind,  the  salmon-trout  is 

I  assisted  last  summer  in  the  capture 
of  a  fish  in  a  somewhat  novel  way. 
' '  The  Convict "  and  I  had  been  located 
for  a  week  on  a  lake  which  in  every- 


thing  that  appeals  to  the  sportsman 
cannot  be  surpassed — the  scenery  is 
bold  and  striking,  game  is  abundant, 
while  the  name  that  the  Indians  have 
given  to  this  beautiful  sheet  of  water 
is  in  itself  a  sufficient  recommendation 
from  the  fisherman's  standpoint — 
Maskinong^-Wagamingue  —  the  lake 
where  the  maskinonge  lie.  Maskin- ' 
onge  there  are  in  it  in  extraordinary 
numbers  and  of  extraordinary  size. 
The  lake  seems  wonderfully  adapted 
by  nature  for  this  fish.  It  is  large, 
deep,  cool,  and  the  numerous  sandy, 
reed-grown  bays  opening  off  it  mark 
where  the  creeks  from  the  hilts  be- 
hind   How    in.     And   not  only  is    the 

ing  unexcel- 
led, but  in  the 
deep  water  lie 
huge  salmon- 
trout,  while 
either  below 
the  (alls  at  the 
head  of  the 
lake,  or  below 
those  that 
mark  its  out- 
let, lurk  the 
most  raven- 
ous, the  most 
fiery,  the  most 
gamy  black 
bass  that  ever 
j^^  cheered   the 

heart    of    en- 

'mptdc  Ihi  camtisi,  thi 


On  our  first  introduction  to  this  lake 
we  had  tried  to  troll  with  a  light  hass- 
rod.  But  familiarity  by  no  means  bred 
contempt,  and  after  our  first  evening's 
experience  resulting  in  a  broken  tip 
and  the  loss  of  yards  and  yards  of  line, 
we  concluded  that  the  old-fashioned, 
though  somewhat  prosaic  method  of 
trolling  with  a  hand  line  would  he 
more  effective. 

The  following  evening  1  was  pad- 
dling the  "Convict"  past  the  reedy 
mouth  of  a  creek  when  he  hooked  a 
bass.  We  were  out  for  giant  mas- 
kinonge, not  for  insignificant  bass, 
and  it  was  with  very  bad  grace  that 

:y  Google 



my   partner  hauled   in   his  line.     The 
straggling    bass    was    within    a    few 
feet  of  the  canoe,  when  suddenly  there 
was  a  flash  of  grey  in   the  water,  and 
our  bass  disappeared  in  the  cavernous 
jaws  of  a  huge  maskinonge.     This  was 
getting    interesting,   if    not    exciting. 
The   "Convict"  tugged   at  the   line,