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</■.  1 1  o  .1- 


THE 


Canadian  Magazine 


OF  POLITICS,  SCIENCE, 
ART  AND    LITERATURE 


VOL.  XXIII 

MAY,    1904-OCTOBER,    1004.    INCLUSIVE 


TORONTO 
THE   ONTARIO   PUBLISHING   C0»,    Limited 

1004 


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CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  XXIII 


MAY,  1904-OCTOBER,  1904 


FRONTISPIECES 

PAGE 

Two  Canadians Painted  by  Paul  Wickson 2 

Sunset  on  The  Bay  of  Fundy From  a  Photograph 88 

Trout  Fishing From  a  Photograph 194 

Bic,  The  Beautiful From  a  Photograph 202 

Atlantic  Surf,  near  Halifax From  a  Photograph 390 

Gathering  Ferns,  P.E  I From  a  Photograph 488 

ARTICLES 

Agricultural  vs.  Manufacturing  Profits Archibald  Blue.  523 

Ames,  Herbert  Brown With  Portrait Albert  R.  Carman.  308 

Amusement  in  Statistics Stambury  R,  Tarr.  167 

Annapolis  Royal Illustrated Judge  A.  W.  Savary.  333 

Art  of  Paul  Wickson Illustrated T.  G,  Marquis.  3 

Automobiles  of  1904 Illustrated T.  A.  Russell.  141 

Automobile  Races,  First Illustrated Fergus  Kyle.  429 

Bay  of  Fundy,  Outing  on Illustrated F.  C.  Sears.  200 

Bella  Coola Illustrated Iver  Fougner.  525 

Blowitz  (de),  Memoirs  of Knox  Magee.  65 

Building  of  a  Railway Illustrated Hopkins  J.  Moorhouse.  97 

By  Canoe Walter  S.  Johnson.  125 

Canadian  Celebrities  : 

61.— Hon.  J.  L  Tarte,  with  Portrait H.  Franklin  Gadsby.  32 

52. — Hon.  Richard  McBride,  with  Portrait T.  A.  Gregg,  209 

53. — Herbert  Brown  Ames,  with  Portrait Albert  R.  Carman.  308 

54. — Rt.  Rev.  Bishop  Cridge,  with  Portrait .John  Nelson.  422 

55.— Hon.  William  Pugsley,  with  Portrait James  Hannay.  537 

Canadian  Progress Illustrated 507 

Canoeing Walter  S.  Johnson.  125 

Cridge,  Rt.  Rev.  Bishop With  Portrait John  Nelson.  422 

Doyle,  Conan With  Portrait Haldane  MacFall.  305 

Education,  Progress  of  Higher, 

FOR  Women Illustrated Hilda  D.  Oakeley.  500 

Empire  Club  of  London,  Ladies' Illustrated Lally  Bernard.  195 

Farmer  and  Fisherman  Compared Austin  L.  McCredie.  520 

Fight  for  North  America Illustrated A.  G.  Bradley. 

42,  148,  234,  341,  439  539 

Fire,  Incidents  at  a  Great Illustrated Fergus  Kyle.  136 

Fire,   Toronto's Illustrated   Norman  Patterson.  128 

First  European  Settlement  in  Xorth  America The  Editor.  338 

Flowers,  the  Photography  of Illustrated Harry  L.  Shepherd,  400 

Founding  of  Bella  Coola Illustrated Iver  Fougner.  629 

Grandfathers,  How  They  Lived Illustrated Frank  Yeigh.  22R 

Hardy,  Thomas With  Portrait Haldane  MacFall.  105 

Heart  of  South  America,  Paragi  ay Illustrated John  D.  Leckie,  391 


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CONTENTS  iii 

PAGB 

Historical  Greetings Reuben  G,  Thwaites,  390 

Hydraulic  Lift  Lock Illustrated F,  H,  Dobbin,  425 

Independence  and  the  Treaty-making  Power Professor  de  Sumichrast,  26 

Japan  and  Russia,  The  Struggle Illustrated The  Editor.  108 

Japan— See  **  Current  Events  Abroad.*' 

Japan  in  Time  of  War Illustrated E,  A.  Wicker.  208 

Japan's  Leaders  Illustrated ...    Norman  Patterson,  299 

Japan,  Through  Ikuta  to  Nanko  Temple. Illustrated E.  A,  Wicker,  489 

Kipling,  Rudyard With  Portrait Haldane  MacFaU,  305 

Lift  Lock,  Hydraulic Illustrated F,  H,  Dobbin,  425 

Literary  Portraits  : 

1. — George  Meredith,  with  Portrait Haldane  MacFall,  35 

2. — Thomas  Hardy,  with  Portrait Haldane  MacFall,  105 

3.— Richard  Whiteing,  with  Portrait Haldane  MacFall,  206 

4.— CoNAN  Doyle,  with  Portrait Haldane  MacFall,  306 

5. — Rudyard  Kipling,  with  Portrait Haldane  MacFall,  404 

6.— Mrs.  Humphry  Ward,  with  Portrait Haldane  MacFall,  497 

Maritime  Provikces,  see  *'  People  and  Affairs  " 376 

Matthison,  Edith  Wynne Illustrated Marjorie  R,  Johnson,  39 

Meredith,  George With  Portrait Haldane  MacFall,  35 

McBride,  Hon.  Richard With  Portrait T,  A,  Gregg,  209 

Mormons,  My  Misconceptions  Regarding.  Illustrated James  L,  Hugkes.  9 

Nanko  Temple Illustrated E,  A,  Wicker,  489 

Nova  Scotia,  Progress  of 514 

NevA  Scotia,  Settlement  of James  Hannay,  323 

Outing  on  the  Bay  of  Fundy Illustrated F,  C,  Sears,  200 

Paraguay Illustrated Jokn  D,  Leckie,  301 

Parker's  **  Old  Quebec  '* Review William  Wood,  263 

Photography  of  Flowers Illustrated Harry  L,  Shepherd,  400 

Prince  Edward  Island's  Progress F,  J,  Nash,  517 

PUGSLEY,  Hon.  William With  Portrait James  Hannay,  537 

Railway,  The  Building  of  a Illustrated Hopkins  J,  Moorhouse,  97 

Reciprocity  with  the  United  States Symposium,  407 

Reciprocity,  United  States  Ideas  of  Charles  H,  Mclntyre,  416 

Russia  and  Japan Illustrated The  Editor,  108 

Royal  Victoria  College Illustrated  Hilda  D.  Oakeley,  500 

Settlement,  First  in  North  America The  Editor,  338 

Settlement  of  Nova  Scotia  Illustrated James  Hannay,  323 

Statistics,  Amusement  in Stambury  R.  Tarr,  167 

Tarte,  Hon.  J.  Israel    With  Portrait H.  Franklin  Gadsby.  32 

Treaty-making  Power Professor  de  Sumichrast,  26 

Testimony  of  the  Post  Office Norman  Patterson  525 

Toronto  Fire Illustrated   Norman  Patterson,  128 

United  States,  Reciprocity  With Symposium,  407 

United  States  Ideas  of  Reciprocity Charles  H,  Mclntyre,  416 

United  States  Elections— See  " Current  Events  Abroad." 574 

Ward,  Mrs.  Humphry With  Portrait Haldane  MacFall  497 

Whiteing,  Richard With  Portrait Haldane  MacFall,  206 

WiCKSON,  Art  of  Paul Illustrated T,  G,  Marquis,  3 


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iv  CONTENTS 

FICTION  PAGE 

Ballygunge  Cup W.  A,  Fraser,  461 

Diplomat's  Sacrifice W.  A,  Fraser,  118 

Driver  Dick's  Last  Run I^obeH  J.  C.  Stead,  360 

Furnishing  of  Pat  McGuire Winnifred  Boggs,  57 

Happiness Guy  de  Maup<issanf.  469 

Health  of  Euphemia Amy  Walsh.  462 

Her  Burglar Eloise  Day,  607 

Jacko's  Jeopardy Illustrated Erie  Waters,  433 

La  Mere  Sauvage     Guy  de  Maupassant,  222 

Land  of  Long   Days Edward  F.  Strange,  169 

On  The  Journey Guy  de  Maupassant,  311 

Our  Mysterious  Passenger Robert  Dawson  Rudolf,  355 

Piece  of  String Guy  de  Maupassant.  557 

Rrchristening  of  Diablo W.  A.  Eraser.  315 

Scoring  of  The  Raja    W.  A.  Eraser.  214 

Shaw's  Comedy Albert  R.  Carman.  258 

Something  New  in  Golf  Balls Illustrated Theodore  Roberts,  64 

Star-Blanket Dufican  Campbell  Scott.  251 

The  Last   Shot Marguerite  Evans.  163 

The  Necklace Guy  de  Maupassant.  113 

The  Peddler's  Lift /.  W.  Fuller.  68 

The  Tenant  Who  Rented  a  Heart Florence  Hamilton  Randal.  364 

The   Wreck   Guy  de  Maupassant.  17 

Woman-Hater's  Stratagem     William  Holloway.  561 

DEPARTMENTS 

About  New  Books 87,  184.  279,  379,  477,  683 

Canada  for  The  Canadians    95,  191,  289,  387,  485,  oSl 

Current  Events  Abroad  75,  172,  267,  367,  465,  574 

Idle  Moments   91,  187.  285,  383,  481,  587 

Oddities  and  Curiosities 93,  189.  287,  385,  483,  589 

People  and  Affairs 83,  180,  275,  376,  473,  579 

Woman's  Sphere 79.  176,  271,  371,  469,  570 

POETRY 

A  Reflection Robert  Ellis  Cringan.  368 

From  Kobe  to  Canada E.  A.  Wicher.  171 

Graves  of  the  English  Dead Vernon  Nott,  257 

Her  Laughter  Vernon  Nott,  74 

Japan Vernon  Nott.  458 

Midsummer B.  J.  Thompson,  424 

Queen's  Pawn Vernon  Nott.  363 

Song  of  Toil William  J,  Fischer,  147 

Spring  in  Canada William  Wilfred  Campbell,  24 

The  Aliens  Return John  Stuart  Thomson  8 

The  Forlorn  Hope IsabelE.  Mackay.  23 

The  Greater  Life    Ida  Hanson.  538 

The  Heart  of  the  Woods William  J,  Fischer.  221 

To  Isaac  Walton   .John  Henderson.  322 

The  Lost  Key Isabel  E.  Mackay.  366 

The  Unknowing Virna  Sheard,  354 

Transformation William  J.  Fischer.  438 

Veil  of  THE  Soul. Inglis  Morse.  636 

With  Life , Theodore  Roberts.  38 


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MAGAZINE 


PUBLISHED         BY 

THE-ONTARIOPOBLISHING-Co.  Limited. 


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THE 


CANADIAN  Magazine 


VOL.  XXIII 


TORONTO,    MAY,    1904 


No.  1 


THE  ART  OF  PAUL  WICKSON 


By  T.   G.  MARQUIS 


IT  is  a  brave  Canadian  who 
will  determine  to  devote 
his  life  to  art  and  remain 
in  the  Dominion.  Our 
poets  have  realized  this, 
and,  one  by  one,  have  drifted  like 
Parker  to  London  or  like  Roberts, 
Carman  and  Stringer  to  New  York. 
Pictorial  art  receives  even  less  encour- 
agement. The  Government  has  given 
aid,  but  the  money  has  not  been  wise- 
ly spent.  Buyers  are  few,  and  these 
for  the  most  part  have  an  inade- 
quate appreciation  of  the  value  of 
paintings.  Despite  these  facts 
several  Canadians  have  seen  fit, 
after  industriously  studying 
abroad,  to  return  to  Canada  to 
try  to  live  their  art  life  in  their 
native  land.  One  of  these  en- 
thusiastic young  Canadians  with 
real  genius  is  Mr.  Paul  Wickson, 
of  Paris,  Ontario.  As  Mr.  Wick- 
son has  lately  been  chosen,  above 
all  others  of  our  artists,  on  ac- 
count of  his  ability  as  a  lands- 
capist,  a  figure  painter  and  a 
painter  of  aJl  kinds  of  domestic 
animals,  to  paint  a  series  of  pic- 
tures representing  every  phase  of 
Canadian  farm  life  for  the  Cana- 
dian building  at  the  St.  Louis 
Exhibition,  it  will  doubtless  be  of 
interest  to  the  general  public  to 
know  something  of  the  man  and 
his  art. 

Mr.  Wickson  is  a  native  of 
Toronto,  his  father  having  been 
a  graduate  of  the  University  of 


Toronto,  and  a  well  -  known  edu- 
cationalist. Like  many  men  of  real 
power  he  seems,  however,  to  have 
inherited  his  artistic  temperament 
from  his  mother.  Fortunately  for 
young  Wickson  his  family  removed 
to  England  when  he  was  a  child.  He 
early  began  to  use  the  pencil  with  skill 
and  his  parents,  seeing  the  bent  of  his 
mind,  sent  him  to  South  Kensington 
School  of  Art;  and  that  his  pictures 
all  show  power  and  accuracy  in  draw- 


PAt'L   WICKSON 

PHOTO   BY   COCKBURN,    F>»RIS 


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THE  OANABiAN  MAGAZINE 


THE   MARCH   OF   CIVILIZATION 

Mr.  Wickson's  best  known  production 


ing  is  due  largely  to  the  long  years  of 
study  spent  in  this  institution.  While 
there  he  carried  off  prizes  in  different 
branches  of  study  and  the  school  medal 
for  oil  painting  of  still  life.  During 
his  student  days  the  Director  for  Art 
at  different  times  gave  him  commis- 
sions. He  was  a  diligent  student  in 
many  directions,  and  painted  portraits, 
landscape  and  marine,  in  oil,  pastel  and 
water-colour.  While  in  England  he 
exhibited  pictures  in  the  Royal  Acad- 
emy and  other  public  galleries.  Though 
his  pictures  were  good,  they  were  not 
strikingly  original.  He  had  no  pro- 
nounced specialty  and  in  his  early  work 
he  waS,  as  it  were,  striving  to  find  out 
what  he  could  do  best. 

In  1885,  Mr.  Wickson  returned  to 
his  native  land  to  marry  Miss  Hamil- 
ton, of  Paris.  He  continued  to  paint, 
but  in  a  half-hearted,  undecided  kind 
of  way.  He  believed,  however,  that 
there  was  room  in  this  country  for  a 
painter  of  Canadian  subjects,  and  the 
feeling  grew  upon  him  that  he  could 
paint  pictures,  if  not  as  great,  as  truly 
representative  of  Canadian  scenery 
and  life,  as   were   the   pictures  of  the 


Highlands  by  Landseer,  or  those  of  the 
French  peasant  by  Millet.  There  was 
a  difHculty  in  the  way.  Canada  is 
essentially  an  agricultural  country,  and 
any  pictures  distinctively  Canadian  in 
subject  must  include  the  painting  of 
animals.  He  had  now  a  fresh  art  im- 
petus. Here  was  a  new  field  for  his 
endeavour.  He  had  always  lived  a 
city  life,  and  had  never  been  a  close 
student  of  natural  history,  or  compara- 
tive anatomy,  but  he  industriously  ap- 
plied himself  and  very  soon  had  an  in- 
timate knowledge  of  the  horse.  For 
several  years  he  devoted  himself  al- 
most exclusively  to  the  painting  of 
race  horses  and,  in  order  to  see  the 
noblest  of  animals  at  his  best,  spent 
much  time  visiting  stock  farms  and 
stables  with  the  definite  purpose  of 
getting  an  insight  into  every  detail  of 
Canadian  farm  life.  He  had  found  his 
metier,  A  painter  of  Canadian  sub- 
jects he  would  be,  and  the  horse,  which 
has  carried  the  pioneers  through  the 
broad  Dominion,  that  is  breaking  up 
the  fertile  West  and  so  nobly  serves 
the  mounted  plainsmen  of  the  Territor- 
ies, would  play  the  chief  role  in  his  pic- 


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THE  ART  OF  PAUL   WICKSON 


CANADIAN    SHORTHORN    CATTLE 

A  *' Commission"  Picture  by  Paul  Wickson 


tures.  With  this  aim  in  life  he  re- 
turned to  England  and  spent  a  winter 
in  studying  the  great  masters  of  the 
past  and  in  meeting  the  more  promi- 
nent of  the  present  day  artists.  On  his 
return  to  Canada  he  began  in  earnest 
the  Canadian  subject  pictures  which  he 
has  since  continued  to  paint  with  suc- 
cess. 

To  the  larger  art  world  Mr.  Wick- 
son's  fame  rests  mainly  on  his  The 
March  of  Civilisation,  Sir  William 
Van  Home,  who  is  himself  an  artist  of 
no  mean  ability,  once  said  that  he 
would  like  to  see  a  Canadian  paint  a 
Canadian  historical  picture.  These 
words  inspired  Mr.  Wickson*s  brush, 
and  he  set  to  work  on  this  splendid 
canvas.  It  was  first  exhibited  by  Mr. 
Wilson,  the  art  dealer  of  Ottawa.  It 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  Canadian 
Commissioner,  and  was  purchased  by 
him  as  an  attraction  for  the  Canadian 
building  at  the  Pan-American  Exposi- 
tion at  Buffalo.  It  may  to  some  seem 
a  strange  whim  on  the  part  of  the  art- 
ist to  call  this  a  historical  picture.  But 
how  truly  it  is  one !  The  opening  of 
the  West,  and  the  passing  of  the  In- 


dian, the  most  important  of  our  histori- 
cal events,  are  both  depicted  in  this 
noble  study  vividly  and  fully.  There 
is  in  it  **no  striving  to  make  the  sub- 
ject tell  by  overloading  it  with  acces- 
sories." There  are  no  unnecessary  de- 
tails, and  the  repose  of  technical  me- 
thod, the  subdued  atmosphere,  the 
quietness  of  the  setting,  the  figures 
well  drawn  and  easy  in  pose,  all  make 
it  a  great  picture. 

No  Complaints  is  a  companion  pic- 
ture to  The  March  of  Civilisation, 
Like  the  former  it  is  an  oil  painting. 
By  the  end  of  the  year  it  will  probably 
be  better  known  than  The  March  oj 
Civilisationy  as  it  was  painted  for  the 
Dominion  Government,  and  will  be  in 
the  Canadian  building  at  the  St.  Louis 
Exhibition.  The  unlimited  prairie,  the 
contrast  between  the  sturdy  settler  in 
his  rough  working  garb  and  the  bril- 
liantly attired  mounted  policeman,  be- 
tween the  patient  plow  horse  and  the 
well-groomed  charger,  make  a  very 
striking  picture.  In  these  studies  Mr. 
Wickson  tells  a  story  and  relates  an 
incident,  but  he  realizes  that  these 
things  are  essentially  the  work  of  the 


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THE   VETERINARY— BY   PAUL  WICKSON 


writer,  and  while  doing  so  does  not 
strive  to  make  a  literary  impression, 
but  devotes  his  energy  to  his  horses, 
which  are  the  objects  that  rivet  the  ob- 
server's attention.  In  both  paintings 
there  is  a  masculine  directness  of 
brush  work,  a  technical  vigour  that  are 
acquired  only  after  years  of  careful 
study  and  practice. 

His  Two  Canadians  has  not  yet  been 
exhibited.  The  writer  saw  it  when  it 
was  in  the  last  stages  of  completion, 
and,  though  not  an  art  critic,  could 
not  but  feel  that  he  was  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  really  great  work  of  art.  Mr. 
Wickson  himself  considers  it  his  best 
painting.  It  proves  him  a  master  of 
composition.  It  is  an  arrangement  of 
masses  contrasted, — the  light  horse  and 
the  golden-bay  horse,  the  blue  sky  and 
the  dark  masses  of  trees,  the  light 
green  grass  and  the  warm  grey  of  the 
road.  Over  it  all  there  is  a  sunny  at- 
mosphere that  gives  it  a  remarkable 
charm.  In  this  picture  Mr.  Wickson 
will  be  found  to  be  a  reserved  and 
striking  colourist,  and,  as  in  all  his 
other  paintings,  a  sure  and   masterly 


draughtsman.  The  shadows  are  well 
managed.  There  is  a  subtlety  of 
colour  gradation,  a  variation  in  the 
flowing  lines,  a  freedom  from  artificial- 
ity, a  fine  sympathy  with  nature  that 
is  probably  without  a  rival  in  Canadian 
art.  This  is  the  largest  canvas  Mr. 
Wickson  has  painted,  and  should  re- 
ceive an  enthusiastic  welcome  from 
those  who  profess  a  desire  to  foster 
Canadian  art. 

Of  a  different  nature  is  the  pastel 
The  Veterinary,  Its  central  figure  is 
the  commonest  type  of  a  Canadian 
farm  horse.  The  scene  is  early  morn- 
ing, and  the  light  of  the  lamp  is  over 
the  figures.  This  study  is  a  small  but 
highly  finished  piece  of  work. 

Canadian  Slwrt-Horn  Cattle  is  an- 
other large  oil  painting.  In  this  pic- 
ture there  is  portrayed  a  group  of  the 
highest  type  of  short-horn  cattle.  The 
animals  are  standing  in  a  June 
meadow.  The  soft  green  grass  in  the 
foreground,  the  more  delicate  green  of 
the  willows  in  the  background,  and  the 
dark  red,  roan  and  white  of  the  ani- 
mals make  a  fine  colour  scheme.    This 


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**NO   COMPLAINTS" 

A  Settler  sigriing"  the  Patrol  Report  of  the  Northwest  Mounted  Police 


picture  was  a  commission,  and  the  art- 
ist had  chiefly  in  mind  to  show  the 
shape  of  the  animals  to  the  best  pos- 
sible advantage.  They  are  splendidly 
drawn;  as  a  colourist  Mr.  Wickson 
once  more  excels,  and  the  dreamy  June 
sunshine  which  pervades  the  scene 
adds  much  to  the  general  effect.  There 
is,  however,  something  lacking  in  it. 
The  animals  look  as  if  they  were  placed 
for  a  photograph  and  the  group  is 
wanting  in  animation  and  variety. 

For  his  work  Mr.  Wickson  finds  his 
best  inspiration  in  the  country.  This 
has  ever  been  the  case  with  landscap- 
ists  and  nature  painters, — Corot,  Fred- 
erick Walker,  George  Mason  found 
their  strength  in  the  fields  and  the  vil- 
lages; Landseer's  fame  rests  largely  on 
such  pictures  as  The  Shepherd's  Chief 
Mourner  and  The  Monarch  of  the  Glen^ 
and  his  lengthy  sojourns  in  the  High- 
lands enabled  him  to  produce  them; 
Millet  had  to  flee  from  Paris  and  return 
to  his  native  soil  and  his  peasants — of 
whom  he  was  one — before  he  could 
produce  The  S^wer  or  The  AngeluSy 
and  Mr.  Wickson  has  wisely  decid- 
ed to  live  in  the  midst   of  the   life  he 


would  portray.  In  his  painting,  too, 
there  is  no  guess  work.  All  is  from 
life.  The  sturdy  farmer  in  The  March 
of  Civilisation  is  Mr.  Crozier,  a  farmer 
living  in  the  vicinity  of  Paris;  the  vet- 
erinary is  Mr.  Fasken  of  the  same 
town ;  the  mounted  policeman  in  No 
Complaints  is  Sergeant  Wilson  of  the 
Northwest  Mounted  Police;  and  his 
Indians  are  natives  of  Canada.  While 
he  is  at  work  he  has  everything  he  de- 
picts before  him.  Added  to  this,  he  is 
a  keen  observer  and  a  close  student  of 
nature,  and  is  conscious  that  the  de- 
tails of  his  pictures  require  as  much 
attention  as  the  main  figures. 

Mr.  Wickson  will  in  a  very  short 
time  doubtless  be  recognized  as  one  of 
the  greatest  of  horse  painters.  John 
Charlton,  Rosa  Bonheur,  Mrs.  Eliza- 
beth Thompson  Butler,  Caton  Wood- 
ville  have  all  treated  the  horse  with 
vigour  and  insight,  but  it  has  almost 
invariably  been  the  horse  in  action — in 
the  excitement  of  the  horse  fair,  in  the 
maddening  charge  of  the  Scots  Grays 
or  in  such  pictures  as  Saving  the  Guns, 
Mr.  Wickson  has  seen  fit  to  study  the 
horse    in    repose,  the   horse  as    he  is 


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8  THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 

generally  seen  in  Canada.  He  recog-  though  his  colour  sense,  especially  in 
nizes  a  poetry  in  common  things,  and  his  latest  pictures,  is  exceedingly  deli- 
does  not  select  the  unusual   in   nature  cate. 

for  his  brush.  Mr.  Wickson  has  an  ideal  abode  for 

As  his  pictures  are  studied,  the  ob-  an  artist  in  the  beautiful  town  of  Paris, 

server  will  note  that  the  artist  is  in  the  The  view  from  his  home  is  one  of  the 

background.     He  never  obtrudes  him-  finest  in  Canada.     Here  he  spends  his 

self.    The  subject  is  everything.    This,  time  studying  country  life,  cultivating 

according  to  no  less  an  authority  than  his  flowers  and   industriously  painting 

Ruskin,  is  a  mark  of  true  genius.    He  his  pictures.     He   has  always  a  weU 

pleases  by  no  tricks  that  cause  one  to  come  for  visitors,  and  literary  men  and 

exclaim,  ** What  a  clever  artist!"     The  artists  in   particular  find  him  a  most 

imitation  of  surfaces  and  textures  play  genial  host. 
a  very  secondary  part  in  his  work,  al- 


THE  ALIEN'S  RETURN 

BY   JOHN    STUART    THOMSON 

SO  quietly  the  alien  night 
Stirs  in  the  cinnamon  and  musk, 
And  at  the  borders  of  the  dusk 
The  Orient  day  fails,  light  by  light. 

It  is  the  heathens'  altar  fire, 

Their  unknown  god,  my  unloved  home; 

But  ever  as  I  farther  roam 
I  worship  thee  in  their  desire. 

And  to  the  calling  of  the  sea 

I  give  thy  name,  that  it  may  speak 

Along  all  shores,  the  love  I  seek. 
And  somewhere  bring  my  faith  to  thee. 

It  could  not  be  I  should  forget; 

My  love  is  only  part  of  thine; 

And  each  long  night  there  seems  to  shine 
A  new  star,  o'er  thy  vigil  set. 

All  ways  are  thus  love's  Bethlehem; 

And  I  shall  find  thee,  for  thy  truth, 

All  beauteous  in  unfading  youth, 
As  passing  days  pale  not  the  gem. 

And  in  thy  trial,  thou  shalt  add 

New  glories  to  thy  wide  sweet  eyes: 

A  holiness  born  of  the  skies 
And  given  for  prayer  to  Galahad. 

From  winter  stress  to  springtide  heat; 

From  pain  to  promise;  frost  to  flower; 

All  sorrows  fruited  in  that  hour: 
Thus  shall  I  know  thee  when  we  meet. 

Ceylon,   February,    1904. 

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ASSEMBLY  HALL 


TABBRNACLB 


BRIGHAM   YOUNGS  MONUMENT 

A   VIEW   IN   SALT    LAKE   CITY 


MY  MISCONCEPTIONS  REGARDING 
THE  MORMONS 

By  JAMES  L.  HUGHES 


WEEK  in  Salt  Lake  City 
revealed  many  things  to 
me.  I  learned  much  that 
I  did  not  know  before,  but 
my  learning  consisted  chieif- 
ly  in  finding  that  so  many  things  which 
I  thought  were  true  were  not. 

I  had  a  hazy  opinion  that  the  Mor- 
mons were  an  ignorant,  unprogressive, 
rather  fanatical  people  until  1900, 
when  Mrs.  Susa  Young  Gates,  one  of 
Brigham  Young's  daughters,  startled 
and  charmed  the  people  of  Toronto 
by  her  eloquence,  her  advanced  ideas 
regarding  education  and  sociology, 
her  comprehensive  enlightenment,  and 
her  strong  yet  gentle  womanliness. 
Those  who  heard  her  at  the  meeting 
of  the  National  Household  Economic 
Association,  promptly  asked  each  other 


at  the  close  of  her  first  address — 
**  How  can  that  combination  of  sim- 
plicity of  manner,  practical  common- 
sense,  broad  general  culture,  original- 
ity and  power,  be  a  product  of  Mor- 
monism  ?" 

I  was  still  further  astonished  when  I 
had  the  privilege  of  meeting  the  indi- 
vidual members  of  the  Utah  delega- 
tion at  the  National  Suffrage  Conven- 
tion in  Washington  in  1902.  In  per- 
sonal appearance  and  in  intelligence 
that  delegation  of  about  a  dozen  wo- 
men stood  in  the  front  rank,  and  would 
not  need  to  take  a  second  place  in  any 
gathering  of  women  in  any  part  of  the 
world.  They  seemed  to  have  an  added 
dignity  from  the  consciousness  that 
they  represented  a  state  whose  men 
were  so  liberal  and  so  progressive  as 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


BRIGHAM   YOUNG 

to  grant  to  womanhood  the  right  of 
complete  suffrage. 

The  interest  aroused  by  meeting 
these  types  of  Mormon  women  led  me 
to  accept  very  promptly  an  invitation 
to  deliver  a  course  of  five  lectures  be- 
fore the  Teachers'  Association  of  Utah 
in  Salt  Lake  City  in  1902.  I  was  so 
fortunate  as  to  reach  Salt  Lake  City 
an  hour  before  the  close  of  the  Annual 
Conference  of  the  Mormon  Church, 
and  I  soon  made  my  way  to  Taber- 
nacle Square. 

Brigham  Young  laid  out  Salt  Lake 
City  in  squares  of  ten  acres,  and  on 
Tabernacle  Square  he  erected  three 
great  buildings — the  Temple,  a  mag- 
nificent granite  building;  the  Taber- 
nacle, which  is  a  vast  arched  roof  sup- 
ported by  massive  stone  piers  along 
the  sides  with  immense  doors  between 
the  piers,  and  the  Assembly  Hall.  The 
Temple  is  devoted  exclusively  to  two 
kinds  of  religious  exercises — marriage 
and  the  ceremonies  for  the  dead.  No 
Gentile  is  permitted  to  enter  the  Tem- 
ple at  any  time,  and  no  Mormon  may 
enter  for  any  purpose  but  the  two 
named,  and  then  only  by  special  permis- 
sion of  the  President.  The  Tabernacle  is 
the  place  of  meeting  for  religious  ex- 
ercises,   sacred    concerts,    conference 


meetings,  and  other  church  gather- 
ings. The  Assembly  Hall  is  used  for 
lectures  and  business  meetings.  The 
Tabernacle  seats  about  ten  thousand, 
and  the  Assembly  Hall  four  thousand. 

On  arriving  at  the  great  square  I 
found  a  crowd  of  several  thousand 
men  and  women  busily  engaged  in 
friendly  intercourse  preparatory  to 
separating  after  a  meeting  in  which 
they  had  been  engaged  for  several 
days.  I  hurried  through  the  throng 
to  the  Tabernacle,  anxious  to  be  pres- 
ent at  the  closing  exercises  of  the 
conference.  I  entered  by  one  of  the 
great  side  doors,  and  found  a  vast 
audience  of  ten  thousand  listening  in- 
tently to  the  last  words  of  President 
Smith.  He  stood  in  the  centre  of  a 
great  gallery  which  surrounds  the  fine 
organ  of  the  Tabernacle,  and  on  which 
were  seated  in  tiers  rising  almost  to 
the  roof  the  large  choir,  which  took 
first  place  among  American  choirs  at 
the  musical  competition  at  the  Chicago 
Exhibition  in  1893,  and  several  hun- 
dred of  the  leading  officers  of  the 
church  throughout  the  world.  Imme- 
diately under  him  sat  the  three  Coun- 
sellors, who  take  rank  next  to  him  and 
are  his  advisors.  Under  the  Counsel- 
lors sat  the  twelve  Apostles  of  the 
church,  and  radiating  upwards  and 
outwards  from  this  central  group  sat 
the  Bishops,  the  Heads  of  Seventies, 
the  Elders,  and  other  leading  officials. 

I  looked;  I  could  not  listen.  I  stud- 
ied the  vast  concourse  for  a  few  min- 
utes as  a  whole,  and  then  began  a 
careful  character  study  of  the  faces 
within  my  range.  I  looked  first  at  the 
men,  expecting,  I  confess,  to  find  evi- 
dences of  selfishness  if  not  of  coarse- 
ness. I  saw  nothing  of  what  I  had 
been  led  to  expect.  Those  faces  re- 
vealed intelligence,  enthusiasm,  prac- 
tical sense  and  intense  earnestness.  I 
next  searched  for  the  unhappy  faces  of 
dissatisfied,  repressed  women.  Again 
I  searched  in  vain.  I  saw  contented, 
high-minded  women,  calm  and  digni- 
fied, conscious  of  a  freedom  still  re- 
fused to  most  women,  but  winsome 
and  womanly.  The  Mormon  type  as 
I  saw  it  in  the  Tabernacle  and  around 


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My  MISCONCEPTIONS  REGARDING  THE  MORMONS 


II 


it  may  be  described  as  a  composite 
type  which  might  be  formed  by  a  union 
of  the  strong  distinctive  elements  of 
Methodists  and  Quakers. 

The  President  spoke  briefly,  and 
after  the  closing  hymn  he  prayed  fer- 
vently and  gave  the  closing  benedic- 
tion. Then  through  the  thirty-four 
doors  between  the  supporting  piers  the 
great  audience  swept  out  in  a  few  mo- 
ments. The  officials  of  the  church  in 
the  end  gallery  remained  for  more  ex- 
tended farewells.  I  scanned  the  faces 
of  the  women  on  the  gallery  searching 
for  my  one  friend  in  Utah,  Mrs.  Gates. 
Not  seeing  her,  I  walked  across  the 
Tabernacle  to  an  old  lady,  the  only  one 
who  had  remained  seated  after  the 
audience  dispersed.  I  told  her  I  was 
looking  for  Mrs.  Susa  Young  Gates, 
and  asked  if  she  knew  her. 

**  I  think  so,"  she  replied  merrily,  **I 
am  her  mother."  So  I  had  the  satis- 
faction of  meeting  one  of  the  widows 
of  the  great  leader  himself,  and  of  be- 
ing introduced  by  her  to  Apostle  Reed 
Smoot,  now  United  States  senator 
from  Utah. 

Then  began  a  series  of  revelations 
which  removed  some  of  my  miscon- 
ceptions. Apostle 
Smoot  kindly  took 
me  to  the  Presi- 
dent's office  and 
answered  my  many 
questions  for  an 
hour  till  the  Presi- 
dent of  the  Teach- 
ers' Association 
came  for  me.  A  pos- 
tle  Smoot  was  him- 
self, a  revelation.  I 
had  thought  that 
Apostles  must  nec- 
essarily be  minis- 
ters. I  found  him 
to  be  a  millionaire, 
a  business  gentle- 
man of  ability  and 
high  standing.  I 
learned  trom  him 
that  the  Bishops  are 
generally  business 
men,  and  that  the 
leading  church  offi- 


cers are  chosen  from  the  wisest  and 
most  successful  men  of  their  dis- 
tricts. He  told  me  that  the  Mormon 
Church  at  that  time  had  over  eight- 
een hundred  young  men  and  women 
doing  missionary  work  in  different 
parts  of  the  world;  but  I  found  that 
mission  work  does  not  necessarily 
mean  trying  to  make  converts  for  the 
church.  In  most  cases  it  means  per- 
forming some  work  of  a  business  char- 
acter for  the  church.  One  noteworthy 
feature  of  the  mission  work  is  that  the 
young  men  who  %o  to  Europe  or  to 
the  Sandwich  Islands,  or  to  Canada,  or 
to  any  other  country  to  work  for  the 
church,  pay  their  own  expenses.  It  is 
a  mission  of  self-sacrifice  for  the  com- 
mon weal,  and  such  an  experience  must 
tend  to  the  development  of  a  strong, 
true  type  of  character. 

I  asked  Apostle  Smoot  about  the 
education  of  the  girls,  and  found  that 
the  Mormons  are  more  keenly  alive  to 
the  importance  of  highly  cultured,  well 
developed,  properly  trained  mother- 
hood, than  any  other  people  I  have 
met.  This  need  is  not  a  matter  of 
opinion  merely — it  is  a  vital  element 
in  their  system.   I  found  in  the  schools. 


SALT    LAKE    CITY — THE    CITY    HALL 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


JOSEPH    F.    SMITH 
President  of  the  Mormon  People 


the  academies,  and  the  university 
that  the  girls  and  young  women  are 
receiving  just  as  thorough  an  edu- 
cation as  the  young  men.  Apostle 
Smoot's  sister  is  at  the  head  of  the 
Kindergarten  Training  College  for 
Utah.  She  was  trained  in  Boston. 
President  Smith,  the  present  head  of 
the  Mormon  people,  told  me  that  he 
had  sent  his  daughters  to  New  York, 
one  to  study  Kindergarten  princi- 
ples, and  the  other  to  study  Do- 
mestic Science.  The  second  State 
Superintendent  of  Schools  in  Utah 
was  a  woman — Mrs.  McVicker.  The 
daughterofSusa  Young  Gates,  after 
courses  under  leading  musicians  in 
America  and  three  years'  training  in 
Berlin,  is,  at  the  age  of  twenty-two, 
the  most  promising  singer  of  Ameri- 
can birth.  Major  Pond  tried  to  atone 
for  some  of  the  wrong  he  did  her 
grandfather  by  arranging  her  con- 
certs in  the  great  music  halls  of  Bos- 
ton, New  York  and  the  other  great 
cities  of  the  east. 

The  interest  taken  in  musical  edu- 
cation was  one  of  my  surprises. 
Many  of  the  young  men  and  women  who  show  special  talent  for  music  are  sent 
abroad    for   a   thorough  musical    education.     Brigham    Young  was  a  man  of 

comprehensive  insight  and  masterful  execu- 
tive ability.  In  the  midst  of  his  ceaseless 
work  in  transforming  a  desert  into  a  most 
fruitful  country,  in  designing  and  erecting 
the  most  remarkable  places  of  worship  in 
America,  in  laying  out  a  beautiful  city,  and 
in  planning  one  of  the  most  perfectly  organ- 
ized religious  and  social  systems  in  the 
world,  he  still  found  time  to  study  educa- 
tional systems,  and  he  gave  his  people  a 
system  that  aims  to  cultivate  the  whole  na- 
ture of  the  child,  physically,  intellectually, 
practically,  esthetically,  and  spiritually. 

One  of  the  established  customs  in  Salt 
Lake  City  is  to  give  an  organ  recital  once  a 
week  during  the  noon  hour  on  the  great 
organ  in  the  Tabernacle.  Thousands  attend 
these  recitals  to  hear  the  talented  young  or- 
ganist, Mr.  McLellan,  perform  the  best  music 
of  the  great  composers. 

I  found,  too,  that  the  Mormon  people  have 

very  advanced  educational  institutions.     The 

State  schools  and  the  Mormon  schools  pro- 

ARTHLR  H.  LLND  vide  an  excellent  education  for  the  people. 

Counsellor  I  have  not  seen  anywhere  in  the  United  States 


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MV  MISCONCEPTIONS  REGARDING  THE  MORMONS 


JOHN    R.    WINDER 
Counsellor 

a  more  advanced  Normal  School  than 
the  State  Normal  School  in  Salt  Lake 
City. 

I  had  believed  that  the  Mormon 
leaders  tried  to  keep  their  people  shut 
in  from  the  world  in  order  that  they 
might  more  easily  be  kept  in  the  faith. 
I  found  it  to  be  a  cardinal  principle  of 
the  church  to  send  the  leading  young 
men  and  women  abroad  for  study  and 
work  in  order  that  they  may  bring  back 
to  Utah  the  most  advanced  ideals  of 
the  highest  civilization  in  all  lands. 
They  usually  have  about  two  thousand 
young  people  in  other  lands,  and  in 
nearly  all  cases  they  have  been  guided 
by  the  church  into  the  courses  of  study 
or  work  they  are  pursuing.  Most  of 
these  young  people  have  been  educated 
at  the  church  academies  or  the  univer- 
sity. 

I  was  surprised  when  Apostle  Smoot 
pointed  across  the  street  to  a  building 
which  he  told  me  was  the  Historical 
Building  of  the  church,  in  which  are 
kept  the  records  of  all  the  individual 
members  of  the  Mormon  faith  in  the 
world.  I  was  still  more  surprised  to 
find  that  these  records  include  the 
children  as  soon  as  they  begin  to  per- 


form some  of  the  simpler  practical  du- 
ties of  the  church.  The  boys  are  or- 
ganized as  deacons  for  certain  duties 
under  the  direction  of  an  elder.  The 
organization  of  the  church  is  absolute- 
ly complete,  and  each  division  and  sub- 
division is  a  perfect  organization  with- 
in itself.  In  each  of  the  smallest  dis- 
tricts into  which  Mormon  territories 
are  divided  there  is  a  house  in  which 
the  offerings  of  the  people  for  chari- 
table purposes  are  kept,  and  from  which 
they  are  distributed  by  the  Elder  in 
charge  of  that  department  of  work. 
The  boys  of  the  district  under  his  di- 
rection collect  and  distribute  the  chari- 
table offerings.  In  case  a  widow  has 
no  son  and  is  poor,  the  boys  of  the 
district  who  are  organized  for  church 
work  cut  her  wood  and  do  other  neces- 
sary work  for  her.  They  are  thus 
trained  in  the  only  sure  way  to  under- 
stand and  practise  the  fundamental 
principles  of  community  life  and  of 
loving  service  for  the  needy.  As  these 
young  people  develop  special  powers 
or  talents,  the  record  is  made  of  their 
development  in  the  historical  building 
in  Salt  Lake  City,  so  that  the  church 
authorities   always   know   where  they 


REED   SMOOT 

Apostle  and   United  States  Senator 


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can  find  well-trained  young  men  and 
women  for  special  service.  Mr.  Rob- 
erts, who  was  elected  to  Congress  and 
refused  admission  because  he  has  more 
than  one  wife,  is  the  Assistant  Histo- 
rian of  the  church. 

My  greatest  lack  of  real  knowledge 
I  found  to  be  in  regard  to  polygamy. 
I  shared  the  common  belief  that  any 
Mormon  man  who  chose  to  do  so 
might  marry  more  than  one  wife. 
Apostle  Smoot  removed  this  miscon- 
ception at  once  by  informing  me  that 
at  no  time  were  more  than  four  per 
cent,  of  the  Mormon  men  permitted  to 
marry  more  than  one  wife.  Those 
who  secured  such  permission  had  to 
enter  a  special  church  order,  and  ad- 
mission to  this  order  was  granted  only 
to  those  men  who  had  the  highest  stand- 
ing morally,  intellectually  and  physical- 
ly. In  addition  to  these  qualifications, 
they  had  to  prove  their  financial  abil- 
ity to  justify  the  assumption  of  the  in- 
creased responsibilities  of  polygamy. 

Mrs.  Young,  Mrs.  Gates'  mother, 
told  me  that  many  times  Mr.  Young, 
when  refusing  applications  for  admis- 
sion to  the  polygamous  order  would 
say  **  No,"  firmly,  but  kindly,  and  add: 
**  I  am  sorry  you  are  allowed  to  have 
one  wife,''  when  the  applicant  was  a 
man  lacking  in  important  essentials  ot 
high  character.  Since  1891  new  polyg- 
amous marriages  have  been  prohibit- 
ed, but  the  leaders,  both  men  and  wo- 
men, believe  in  polygamy  still  under 
clearly  defined  conditions.  The  men, 
like  Mr.  Roberts,  have  chivalrously 
refused  to  desert  their  wives  even 
for  situations  of  honour  in  Congress, 
or  for  other  public  positions,  and  the 
women  have  been  equally  faithful  to 
their  former  relationships.  When  the 
United  States  Government  ordered 
that  every  Mormon  should  give  up  all 
his  wives  but  the  one  to  whom  he  was 
first  married,  it  was  naturally  suppos- 
ed that  a  great  many  women  would  be 
left  without  support,  and  the  Govern- 
ment generously  erected  a  large  insti- 
tution to  provide  a  home  for  them;  but 
no  Mormon  women  took  advantage  of 
the  provisions  thus  made  for  them. 
The  Mormon  women  whom  I  met  be- 


lieve polygamy  to  be    right  quite    as 
firmly  as  the  men. 

It  may  help  to  remove  erroneous 
views  regarding  the  Mormon  attitude 
towards  polygamy  to  state  that  the 
book  of  Mormon  explicitly  condemns 
polygamy,  but  gives  the  church  the 
right  to  authorize  it  in  case  the  Lord 
reveals  the  need  of  raising  a  people  of 
special  power. 

I  do  not  wish  to  be  understood  as 
advocating  polygamy,  but  it  is  a  fact 
that  the  leaders,  the  Governor,  Senator 
Smoot,  the  State  Superintendent  of 
Education,  the  President  of  the  Uni- 
versity, the  Principal  of  the  Normal 
School,  and  most  of  the  leading  men 
in  Salt  Lake  City,  were  brought  up  in 
polygamous  families,  and  those  with 
whom  I  conversed  on  the  subject  spoke 
kindly  and  affectionately  of  their 
father's  wives,  other  than  their  own 
mothers. 

One  of  the  most  prominent  Mormons 
of  Salt  Lake  City  visited  Toronto  a 
few  months  ago,  and  I  asked  a  few 
friends  to  meet  him  at  lunch,  and  in- 
troduced him  to  a  number  of  people, 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  during  his  visit. 
After  he  left  I  asked  them  as  I  met 
them  how  they  liked  my  Mormon  friend. 
They  all  said:  **Oh!  He  is  a  fine  man> 
but  he  is  not  a  polygamist."  The  fact 
is  that  he  had  three  wives  before  he 
went  to  Harvard  to  study  for  his  de- 
gree. This  illustration  shows  that 
polygamy  did  not  leave  marks  on  him 
that  were  recognizable  by  my  friends. 

I  did  not  expect  to  find  the  Mormon 
people  great  students  of  the  Bible,  but 
I  found  it  to  be  one  of  the  chief  text- 
books in  the  academies  and  universi- 
ties. I  know  no  other  people  who 
study  the  Bible  so  persistently.  The 
Life  of  Christ  is  the  history  studied 
most  carefully  in  the  university. 

A  friend  in  Salt  Lake  City  request- 
ed me  to  take  a  message  on  my  way 
home  to  her  seventeen-year-old  daugh- 
ter, who  was  attending  the  Conserva- 
tory of  Music  in  Detroit.  She  was 
living  in  Detroit  with  a  lady  whose 
uncle  was  one  of  the  most  prominent 
Methodist  ministers  in  Canada  in  his 
time,  and  who  was  educated  herself  in 


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MV  MISCONCEPTIONS  REGARDING  THE  MORMONS 


a  leading  Methodist  college  in  Canada. 
She  told  me  that  she  asked  the  mother 
of  the  little  Mormon  girl  how  she 
wished  her  to  spend  her  Sundays. 
*•  Oh!"  replied  the  mother,  **  take  her 
to  church  with  you,  and  I  shall  be 
specially  obliged  if  you  can  spend  some 
time  in  studying  the  Bible  with  her." 
The  lady  assured  me  that  the  girl 
knew  the  Bible  more  thoroughly  than 
she  herself,  or  anyone  else  whom  she 
had  ever  known. 

I  had  not 'thought  of  the  Mormons 
as  a  people  who  appreciated  amuse- 
ments. I  found  that  Brigham  Young 
built  a  fine  theatre  for  his  people, 
which  is  still  owned  and  managed 
by  the  church.  It  was  for  many  years 
the  custom  to  have  amateur  compa- 
nies, and  prominent  young  men  went 
annually  to  New  York  to  see  the  best 
plays  in  the  theatres  in  order  to  select 
the  most  suitable  for  Salt  Lake  City 
audiences.  The  present  Governor  ot 
Utah  was  one  of  the  leading  amateur 
actors  of  the  city.  Concerts,  lectures, 
and  other  forms  of  rational  entertain- 
ment are  attended  by  large  audiences 
in  Salt  Lake  City.  In  my  own  ex- 
perience I  have  never  had  such  large 
or  enthusiastic  audiences  anywhere. 
For  five  nights  the  Assembly  Hall  was 
crowded,  and  more  than  three  thou- 
sand came  out  at  half-past  nine  to  a 
lecture  delivered  by  special  request  the 
morning  I  left  the  city. 

I  had  supposed  that  Utah  was  the 
easiest  place  in  the  world  in  which  to 
get  married.  The  fact  is  that  it  is  the 
most  difficult  place  in  which  to  take  a 
life  partner,  if  one  is  a  Mormon.  No 
Mormon  can  be  married  except  in  a 
Temple,  so  that  it  may  be  necessary  to 
travel  very  long  distances  to  have  the 
ceremony  performed. 

The  sacraments  and  ceremonies  for 
the  dead  were  a  revelation  to  me. 
These  may  be  continued  for  years  after 
a  man's  death  by  his  widow  and  his 
friends.  When  a  man  dies  his  broth- 
er or  some  intimate  friend  represents 
him  and  performs  certain  rites  on  his 
behalf.  These  ceremonies  are  per- 
formed in  the  Temples  only. 

A  very  intelligent  and  cultured  gen- 


tleman told  me  that  the  writings  of 
Froebel,  which  I  was  trying  to  ex- 
pound, had  affected  him  when  he  read 
them  as  no  other  books  ever  had;  and 
he  said  that  about  twelve  years  ago 
Froebel  appeared  to  him  in  a  vision, 
and  asked  him  to  have  the  sacraments 
for  the  dead  performed  for  him.  He 
went  to  the  Temple  and  personated 
Froebel  and  received  the  sacraments 
of  the  church  in  Froebel's  name. 

My  geographical  knowledge  w^as  de- 
fective. I  expected  to  find  Salt  Lake 
City  on  the  shore  of  Salt  Lake.  Again 
I  was  wrong.  The  lake  is  fifteen 
miles  from  the  city.  A  railroad  own- 
ed by  the  Mormon  authorities  runs 
from  the  city  to  the  lake  during  the 
long  summer  season,  and  a  magnifi- 
cent amusement  pavilion,  and  splendid 
bathing  accommodation,  afford  ample 
opportunity  for  enjoyment  at  the  beau- 
tiful lake.  As  the  season  was  over 
when  I  was  there,  the  President  very 
kindly  provided  a  special  train  so  that 
I  might  enjoy  a  swim  in  the  buoyant 
water;  at  any  rate,  I  expected  to  swim. 
Again  I  was  surprised.  I  could  not 
sink  low  enough  in  the  water  to  be 
able  to  swim  properly.  Lying  on  my 
back,  I  tried  in  vain  to  get  my  feet  in 
the  water.  One  of  the  most  amusing 
sights  to  be  seen  anywhere  in  the 
world  is  a  common  experience  at  Salt 
Lake.  A  man  who  wishes  to  enjoy 
himself  perfectly  lights  his  cigar,  sits 
down  on  the  water,  attaches  a  sail  to 
his  feet,  and  holding  the  rope  in  his 
hand,  and  reclining  in  an  easy  position 
on  the  cushioned  bosom  of  the  lake, 
sails  where  he  chooses. 

The  view  of  the  beautiful  mountains 
surrounding  Salt  Lake  is  one  of  the 
finest  I  have  ever  seen.  When  I  saw 
them  the  lower  third  of  the  mountains 
was  green,  the  middle  third  looked  like 
a  vast  garden  filled  with  brilliantly 
coloured  flowers,  while  a  crown  of 
crystal  whiteness  covered  their  heads. 
Time  never  passed  more  pleasantly  for 
me  than  when  I  reclined  in  an  easy 
posture  with  nearly  half  my  body  out 
of  the  water,  on  Salt  Lake,  and  look- 
ed at  the  grandeur  of  the  surround- 
ing   mountains    as    they    were    toned 


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1 


<i-'(- 
'«*,.    -^J* 


iriTfiiirfllli 


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m\ 


SALTAIR   BEACH,    NEAR   SALT   LAKE   CITY 

This  resort  is  thirty  minutes'  ride  from  Salt  Lake  City.  This  Pavilion  is  built  upon 
pilings,  is  1,115  feet  by  365  feet,  and  contains  620  bath-rooms,  besides  a  huge  dancing- 
pavilion.  A  swimmer  may  float  on  the  buoyant  water,  or  move  about  with  a  sail  at- 
tached to  his  feet. 


to  richest  beauty  by  the  evening  sun. 

Salt  Lake  City  itself  was  a  surprise 
to  me.  Its  broad  streets,  its  fine  busi- 
ness houses,  its  splendid  homes,  its 
excellent  public  buildings,  its  magnifi- 
cent mountain  background,  and  the 
crystal  streams  running  on  both  sides 
of  the  streets,  are  distinctive  features 
of  this  unique  and  beautiful  city. 

I  had  no  adequate  conception  of  the 
wealth  of  Utah.  Agriculturally  the 
great  valley  has  been  made  a  vast  and 
rich  garden,  by  turning  the  mountain 
streams  into  a  great  system  of  irrigation. 


Salt  Lake  itself  is  a  source  of  incal- 
culable wealth.  The  Mormon  Church 
has  immense  salt  works  at  the  lake 
which  yield  a  large  revenue. 

Utah  is  one  of  the  richest  parts  of 
the  United  States  in  mineral  wealth. 
In  1902  it  mined  more  iron  than  any 
other  State. 

Taken  as  a  whole,  there  is  probably 
no  other  city  where  an  unprejudiced 
man  may  find  better  opportunities  for 
studying  economic,  social,  and  educa- 
tional questions  than  in  Salt  Lake 
City. 


THE     IDEAL 


BY    INGLIS    MORSE 


r)EHIND  each  great  desire 

There  lies  the  dream  that  dares  to  be, 
Idealizing  all 
Of  Life's  unchanging  mystery. 


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THE  WRECK' 


By  GUY  DE  MAUPASSANT 


|T  wras  yesterday,  the  31st  ot 
December.  1  had  just  fin- 
ished breakfast  with  my  old 
friend  Georges  Garin  when 
the  servant  brought  him  a 
letter  covered  with  seals  and  foreign 
stamps.     Georges  said: 

"  Will  you  excuse  me  ?" 

••Certainly.'' 

And  so  he  began  to  read  eight  pages 
in  a  large  English  handwriting,  cross- 
ed in  every  direction.  He  read  them 
slowly,  with  serious  attention  and  the 
interest  which  we  only  pay  to  things 
which  touch  our  hearts. 

Then  he  put  the  letter  on  a  corner  of 
the  mantelpiece,  and  he  said: 

"That  was  a  curious  story!  I've 
never  told  you  about  it,  I  think.  And 
yet  it  was  a  sentimental  adventure,  and 
it  happened  to  me.  Aha  !  that  was  a 
strange  New  Year's  Day  indeed  !  It 
must  be  twenty  years  ago,  since  I  was 
then  thirty,  and  am  now  fifty  years  old. 

•*  I  was  then  an  inspector  in  the  Mari- 
time Insurance  Company,  of  which  I 
am  now  director.  I  had  arranged  to 
pass  the  f^te  of  New  Year's  in  Paris — 
since  it  is  a  convention  to  make  that 
day  a  f^te — when  I  received  a  letter 
from  the  manager,  directing  me  to  pro- 
ceed at  once  to  the  Island  of  R^,  where 
a  three-masted  vessel  from  Saint-Naz- 
aire,  insured  by  us,  had  just  gone 
ashore.  It  was  then  eight  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  1  arrived  at  the  office 
at  ten  to  get  my  instructions,  and  the 
same  evening  I  took  the  express,  which 
put  me  down  in  La  Rochelle  the  next 
day,  December  31st. 

*•  I  had  two  hours  to  spare  before 
going  aboard  the  boat  for  R^.  So  I 
made  a  tour  in  the  town.  It  is  certain- 
ly a  fantastic  city,  La  Rochelle,  with  a 
strong  character  of  its  own — streets 
tangled  like  a  labyrinth,  sidewalks  run- 
ning beside  endless  arcaded  galleries 
like  those  of  the  Rue  de  Rivoli,  but  low, 


mysterious,  built  as  if  to  form  a  fit 
scene  for  conspirators,  and  making  an 
ancient  and  striking  background  for 
those  old-time  wars,  the  savage,  heroic 
wars  of  religion.  It  is,  indeed,  the 
typical  old  Huguenot  city,  grave,  dis- 
creet, with  no  fine  art  to  show,  with  no 
wonderful  monuments,  such  as  make 
Rouen  so  grand,  but  it  is  remarkable 
for  its  severe,  somewhat  cunning  look; 
it  is  a  city  of  obstinate  fighters,  a  city 
where  fanaticisms  might  well  blossom, 
where  the  faith  of  the  Calvinists  be- 
came exalted,  and  where  the  plot  of 
•  Four  Sergeants'  was  born. 

••After  I  had  wandered  for  some 
time  about  these  curious  streets,  1  went 
aboard  the  black,  fat-bellied  little 
steamboat  which  was  to  take  me  to  the 
Island  of  R^.  It  was  called  th^Jean 
Gut'fym,  It  started  with  angry  puffings, 
passed  between  the  two  old  towers 
which  guard  the  harbour,  crossed  the 
roadstead  and  issued  from  the  mole 
built  by  Richelieu,  the  great  stones  of 
which  are  visible  at  the  water's  edge, 
enclosing  the  town  like  an  immense 
necklace.  Then  the  steamboat  turned 
off  to  the  right. 

••  It  was  one  of  those  sad  days  which 
oppress  and  crush  the  thoughts,  tighten 
the  heart  and  extinguish  in  us  all 
energy  and  force — a  gray,  icy  day, 
salted  by  a  heavy  mist  which  was  as 
wet  as  rain,  as  cold  as  frost,  as  bad  to 
breathe  as  the  lye  of  a  washtub. 

"Under  this  low  ceiling  of  sinister 
fog,  this  shallow,  yellow,  sandy  sea  of 
all  gradually  receding  coasts  lay  with- 
out a  wrinkle,  without  a  movement, 
without  life,  a  sea  of  turbid  water,  of 
greasy  water,  of  stagnant  water.  The 
/ean  Guiian  passed  over  it,  rolling  a 
little  from  habit,  dividing  the  smooth, 
opaque  sheet,  and  leaving  behind  a  few 
waves,  a  little  chopping  sea,  a  few 
modulations,  which  were  soon  calm. 

••  I  began  to  talk  to  the  captain,  a 


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little  man  almost  without  feet,  as 
round  as  his  boat  and  balancing  him- 
self like  it.  I  wanted  some  details 
about  the  disaster  on  which  I  was  to 
deliver  a  report.  A  great  square-rig- 
^ged  three-master,  the  Marie  Joseph^  of 
Saint-Nazaire,  had  gone  ashore  one 
night  in  a  hurricane  on  the  sands  of  the 
Island  of  R^. 

**  The  owner  wrote  us  that  the  storm 
had  thrown  the  ship  so  far  ashore  that 
it  was  impossible  to  float  her,  and  they 
had  had  to  remove  everything  which 
could  be  detached  with  the  utmost 
possible  haste.  Nevertheless,  I  was  to 
examine  the  situation  of  the  wreck, 
estimate  what  must  have  been  her  con- 
dition before  the  disaster,  and  decide 
whether  all  efforts  had  been  used  to 
get  her  afloat.  I  came  as  an  agent  of 
the  company  in  order  to  hear  contra- 
dictory testimony,  if  necessary,  at  the 
trial. 

•*  On  receipt  of  my  report  the  man- 
ager would  take  what  measures  he 
judged  necessary  to  protect  our  inter- 
ests. 

**The  captain  of  ih^  Jean  Guiion 
knew  all  about  the  affair,  having  been 
summoned  with  his  boat  to  assist  in  the 
attempts  at  salvage. 

**  He  told  me  the  story  of  the  disas- 
ter, and  very  simply  too.  The  Marie 
Josephy  driven  by  a  furious  gale,  lost 
her  bearings  completely  in  the  night, 
and  steering  by  chance  over  a  heavy 
foaming  sea — '  a  milk-soup  sea,'  said 
the  captain — had  gone  ashore  on  those 
immense  banks  of  sand  which  make 
the  coasts  of  this  region  seem  like  limit- 
less Saharas  at  hours  when  the  tide  is 
low. 

''  While  talking  I  looked  around  and 
ahead.  Between  the  ocean  and  the 
lowering  sky  lay  a  free  space  where 
the  eye  could  see  far.  We  were  fol- 
lowing a  coast.  I  asked:  '  Is  that  the 
island  of  R^?' 

•**Yes,  sir.' 

'^And  suddenly  the  captain  stretched 
his  right  hand  out  before  us,  pointed 
to  something  almost  invisible  in  the 
middle  of  the  sea  and  said:  'There's 
your  ship.' 

*' '  The  Marie  Joseph  ?' 


"'Yes.' 

"  I  was  stupefied.  This  black,  al- 
most imperceptible  speck,  which  I 
should  have  taken  for  a  rock,  seemed, 
at  least,  three  miles  from  land. 

"  I  continued:  '  But,  captain,  there 
must  be  a  hundred  fathoms  of  water  in 
that  place?' 

"He  began  to  laugh. 

" '  A  hundred  fathoms,  my  boy! 
Well,  I  should  say  abopt  two!' 

"  He  was  from  Bordeaux.  He  con- 
tinued: '  It's  now  9.40,  just  high 
tide.  Go  down  along  the  beach  with 
your  hands  in  your  pockets  after 
you've  had  lunch  at  the  Hotel  du 
Dauphin,  and  I'll  engage  that  at  tea 
minutes  to  three,  or  three  o'clock, 
you'll  reach  the  wreck  without  wetting 
your  feet,  and  have  from  an  hour  and 
three-quarters  to  two  hours  aboard  of 
her;  but  not  more,  or  you'll  be  caught. 
The  farther  the  sea  goes  out  the  faster 
it  comes  back.  This  coast  is  as  flat 
as  a  bed  bug!  But  start  away  at  ten 
minutes  to  five,  as  I  tell  you,  and  at 
half-past  seven  you  will  be  aboard  of  the 
Jean  Guiion  again,  which  will  put  you 
down  this  same  evening  on  the  quay 
at  La  Rochelle.' 

"  I  thanked  the  captain,  and  I  went 
and  sat  down  in  the  bow  of  the  steamer 
to  get  a  good  look  at  the  little  city  of 
Saint-Martin,  which  we  were  now  rap- 
idly approaching. 

"  It  was  just  like  all  the  miniature 
seaports  which  serve  as  the  capitals  of 
the  barren  islands  scattered  along  the 
coast — a  large  fishing  village,  one  foot 
on  sea  and  one  on  shore,  living  on  fish 
and  wild-fowl,  vegetables  and  shell- 
fish, radishes  and  mussels.  The  island 
is  very  low,  and  little  cultivated,  yet 
seems  to  be  filled  with  people.  How- 
ever, I  did  not  penetrate  into  the  inter- 
ior. 

"After  having  breakfasted,  I  climb- 
ed across  a  little  promontory,  and, 
then,  as  the  tide  was  rapidly  falling,  I 
started  out  across  the  sands  towards 
a  kind  of  black  rock  which  I  could 
just  perceive  above  the  surface  of  the 
water,  far  out,  far  down. 

' '  I  walked  quickly  over  the  yellow 
plain;    it   was   elastic,  like  flesh,  and 


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seemed  to  sweat  beneath  my  foot. 
The  sea  had  been  there  very  lately; 
now  I  perceive  it  at  a  distance,  escap- 
ing out  of  sight,  and  I  no  longer  dis- 
tinguished the  line  which  separated 
the  sands  from  ocean.  I  felt  as  though 
1  were  assisting  at  a  gigantic  super- 
natural work  of  enchantment.  The 
Atlantic  had  just  now  been  before  me, 
then  it  had  disappeared  into  the  strand, 
just  as  does  scenery  through  a  trap; 
and  now  I  walked  in  the  midst  of  a 
desert.  Only  the  feeling,  the  breath 
of  the  salt-water,  remained  in  me.  I 
perceived  the  smell  of  the  wrack,  the 
smell  of  the  wide  sea,  the  rough,  good 
smell  of  sea-coasts.  I  walked  fast;  I 
was  no  longer  cold;  I  looked  at  the 
stranded  wreck,  which  grew  in  size  as 
I  approached,  and  came  now  to  resem- 
ble an  enormous  shipwrecked  whale. 

'*  It  seemed  fairly  to  rise  out  of  the 
ground,  and  on  that  great,  flat,  yel- 
low stretch  of  sand  assumed  surprising 
proportions.  After  an  hour's  walk  I 
reached  it  at  last.  Bulging  out  and 
crushed,  it  lay  upon  its  side,  which^ 
like  the  flanks  of  an  animal,  displayed 
its  broken  bones,  its  bones  of  tarry 
wood  pierced  with  enormous  bolts. 
The  sand  had  already  invaded  it,  en- 
tered it  by  all  the  crannies,  and  held 
it,  possessed  it,  refused  to  let  it  go. 
It  seemed  to  have  taken  root  in  it. 
The  bow  had  entered  deep  into  this 
soft,  treacherous  beach;  while  the 
stern,  high  in  air,  seemed  to  cast  at 
heaven,  like  a  cry  of  despairing  ap- 
peal, the  two  white  words  on  the 
black  planking,  Marie  Joseph, 

''  I  scaled  this  carcass  of  a  ship  by 
the  lowest  side;  then,  having  reached 
the  deck,  I  went  below.  The  daylight 
which  entered  by  the  stove-in  hatches 
and  the  cracks  in  the  sides,  showed 
sadly  enough  a  species  of  long,  som- 
bre cellar  full  of  demolished  wood- 
work. There  was  nothing  here  but 
the  sand,  which  served  as  a  foot-soil 
in  this  cavern  of  planks. 

"  I  began  to  take  some  notes  about 
the  condition  of  the  ship.  I  was  seat- 
ed on  a  broken  empty  cask,  writing 
by  the  light  of  a  great  crack,  through 
which  I  could  perceive  the  boundless 


stretch  of  the  strand.  A  strange  shiv- 
ering of  cold  and  loneliness  ran  over 
my  skin  from  time  to  time;  and  I 
would  often  stop  writing  for  a  moment 
to  listen  to  the  vague,  mysterious 
noises  in  the  wreck;  the  noise  of  the 
crabs  scratching  the  planking  with 
their  hooked  claws;  the  noise  of  a 
thousand  little  creatures  of  the  sea  al- 
ready installed  on  this  dead  body;  the 
noise,  so  gentle  and  regular,  of  the 
worms,  who  with  their  gimlet-like, 
grinding  sound,  gnaw  ceaselessly,  at 
the  old  timber,  which  they  hollow  out 
and  devour. 

"And  suddenly,  very  near  me,  I 
heard  human  voices;  I  started  as 
though  I  had  seen  a  ghost.  For  a 
second  I  really  thought  1  was  about  to 
see  two  drowned  men  rise  from  the 
sinister  depths  of  the  hold,  who  would 
tell  me  about  their  death.  At  any 
rate,  it  did  not  take  me  long  to  swing 
myself  on  deck  with  all  the  strength  I 
had  in  my'  wrists.  There,  below  the 
bow,  I  found  standing  a  tall  gentle* 
man  with  three  young  girls,  or  rather, 
a  tall  Englishman  with  three  young 
misses.  Certainly,  they  were  a  good 
deal  more  frightened  at  seeing  this 
sudden  apparition  on  the  abandoned 
three-master  than  I  had  been  at  see- 
ing them.  The  youngest  girl  turned 
round  and  ran;  the  two  others  caught 
their  father  by  the  arms;  as  for  him, 
he  opened  his  mouth — that  was  sole 
sign  of  his  emotion  which  he  showed. 

'*Then  after  several  seconds,  he 
spoke:  'Aw,  m6sieu,  are  you  the  owner 
of  this  ship  ?' 

"  *I  am.' 

"  *  May  I  go  over  it  ?' 

'•  'You  may.' 

"  '  Then  he  uttered  a  long  sentence 
in  English,  in  which  I  only  distinguish- 
ed the  word  'gracious,'  repeated  sev- 
eral times. 

"As  he  was  looking  for  a  place  to 
climb  up,  I  showed  him  the  best,  and 
lent  him  a  hand.  He  ascended.  Then 
we  helped  up  the  three  little  girls, 
who  were  now  quite  reassured.  They 
were  charming,  especially  the  oldest,  a 
blonde  of  eighteen,  fresh  as  a  flower, 
and   so   dainty,    so  pretty!     Ah,   yes. 


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the  pretty  Englishwomen  have  indeed 
the  look  of  tender  fruits  of  the  sea! 
One  would  have  said  of  this  one  that 
she  had  just  risen  from  the  sands  and 
that  her  hair  had  kept  their  tint.  They 
ally  with  their  exquisite  freshness, 
make  you  think  of  the  delicate  col- 
ours of  pink  sea-shells,  and  of  shining 
pearls,  rare  and  mysterious,  hidden  in 
the  unknown  deeps  of  ocean. 

<'  She  spoke  French  a  little  better 
than  her  father,  and  she  acted  as  in- 
terpreter. I  must  tell  all  about  the 
shipwreck  to  the  very  least  details, 
and  I  romanced  as  though  I  had  been 
present  at  the  catastrophe.  Then  the 
whole  family  descended  into  the  inter- 
ior of  the  wreck.  As  soon  as  they  had 
penetrated  into  this  sombre,  dim-lit 
gallery,  they  uttered  cries  of  astonish- 
ment and  admiration.  And  suddenly 
the  father  and  his  three  daughters 
were  holding  sketch-books  in  their 
hands,  which  they  had  doubtless  car- 
ried hidden  somewhere  in  their  heavy 
weather-proof  clothes,  and  were  all  be- 
ginning at  once  to  make  pencil  sketch- 
es of  this  melancholy  and  fantastic 
place. 

''They  had  seated  themselves  side 
by  side  on  a  projecting  beam,  and  the 
four  sketch-books  on  the  eight  knees 
were  being  rapidly  covered  with  little 
black  lines,  which  were  intended  to 
represent  the  half-opened  stomach  of 
the  Marie  Joseph. 

"I  cpntinued  to  inspect  the  skeleton 
of  the  ship,  and  the  oldest  girl  talked 
to  me  while  she  worked. 

"  I  learned  that  they  were  spending 
the  winter  at  Biarritz,  and  that  they 
had  come  to  the  island  of  R6  express- 
ly to  see  the  stranded  three-master. 
They  had  none  of  the  usual  English 
arrogance;  they  were  simple,  honest 
hearts  of  that  class  of  constant  wan- 
derers with  which  England  covers  the 
globe.  The  father  was  long  and  thin, 
with  a  red  face  framed  in  white  whisk- 
ers, and  looking  like  a  living  sand- 
wich, a  slice  of  ham  cut  in  the  shape 
•of  a  head,  placed  between  two  wedges 
of  hair.  The  daughters,  like  Uttle 
wading  birds  in  embryo,  had  long  legs 
and  were  also  thin — except  the  oldest; 


All  three  were  pretty,  especially  the 
tallest. 

"  She  had  such  a  droll  way  of  speak- 
ing, of  talking,  of  laughing,  of  under- 
standing and  of  not  understanding,  of 
raising  her  eyes  to  ask  a  question 
(eyes  blue  as  deep  water),  of  stopping 
her  drawing  a  moment  to  make  a 
guess  at  what  you  meant,  of  returning 
once  more  to  work,  of  saying  *  yes '  or 
'  no ' — that  I  could  have  listened  and 
looked  indefinitely. 

"  Suddenly  she  murmured: 

"  '  I  hear  a  little  movement  on  this 
boat!' 

"  I  lent  an  ear;  and  I  immediately 
distinguished  a  low,  steady,  curious 
sound.  What  was  it?  I  rose  and 
looked  out  of  the  crack,  and  I  uttered 
a  violent  cry.  The  sea  had  c6me  back; 
it  was  about  to  surround  us! 

"  We  Were  on  deck  in  an  instant.  It 
was  too  late.  The  water  circles  us 
about  and  was  running  towards  the 
coast  with  prodigious  swiftness.  No, 
it  did  not  run,  it  slipped,  it  crawled, 
it  grew  longer,  like  a  kind  of  great 
limitless  blot.  The  water  on  the  sands 
was  barely  a  few  centimetres  deep; 
but  the  rising  flood  had  gone  so  far 
that  we  no  longer  saw  the  flying  line 
of  its  edge. 

"The  Englishman  wanted  to  jump. 
I  held  him  back.  Flight  was  impos- 
sible because  of  the  deep  places  which 
we  had  been  obliged  to  go  round  on 
our  way  out,  and  into  which  we  should 
certainly  fall  on  our  return. 

"There  was  a  minute  of  horrible 
anguish  in  our  hearts.  Then  the  little 
English  girl  began  to  smile,  and  mur- 
mured: 

"  '  So  we,  too,  are  shipwrecked.' 

"  I  tried  to  laugh;  but  fear  caught 
me  tight,  a  fear  which  was  cowardly 
and  horrid  and  base  and  mean,  like  the 
tide.  All  the  dangers  which  we  ran 
appeared  to  me  at  once.  I  wanted  to 
shriek  '  Help!'  but  to  whom  ? 

"The  two  younger  girls  were  cow- 
ering against  their  father,  who  regard- 
ed, with  a  look  of  consternation,  the 
measureless  sea  which  hedged  us 
round  about. 

"  And  the  night  fell  as  swiftly  as  the 


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ocean  rose — a  lowering,  wet,  icy  night. 

*'  I  said:  '  There's  nothing  to  do  but 
to  stay  oh  the  ship.' 

''The   Englishman  answered:  'Oh 


"And  we  waited  there  a  quarter  of 
an  hour,  half  an  hour;  indeed,  I  don't 
know  how  long,  watching  that  yellow 
water  which  grew  deep  about  us, 
whirled  round  and  round,  and  seemed 
to  bubble,  and  seemed  to  sport  over 
the  reconquest  of  the  vast  sea-strand. 

"One  of  the  little  girls  was  cold, 
and  we  suddenly  thought  of  going 
below  to  shelter  ourselves  from  the 
light  but  freezing  wind  which  blew 
upon  us  and  pricked  our  skins. 

"  I  leaned  over  the  hatchway.  The 
ship  was  full  of  water.  So  we  must 
cower  against  the  stern  planking, 
which  shielded  us  a  little. 

"The  shades  were  now  enwrapping 
us,  and  we  remained  pressed  close  to 
one  another,  surrounded  by  the  dark- 
ness and  by  the  sea.  I  felt  trembling 
against  my  shoulder  the  shoulder  of  the 
little  English  girl,  whose  teeth  chatter- 
ed from  time  to  time.  But  I  also  felt  the 
gentle  warmth  of  her  body  through 
her  ulster  from  time  to  time,  and  that 
warmth  was  as  delicious  to  me  as  a 
kiss.  We .  no  longer  spoke;  we  sat 
motionless,  mute,  cowering  down  like 
animals  in  a  ditch  when  the  hurricane 
is  raging.  And,  nevertheless,  despite 
the  night,  the  terrible  and  increasing 
danger,  I  began  to  feel  happy  that  I 
was  there,  to  be  glad  of  the  cold  and 
the  peril,  to  rejoice  in  the  long  hours 
of  darkness  and  anguish  which  I  must 
pass  on  this  plank  so  near  this  dainty 
and  pretty  little  girl. 

' '  I  asked  myself:  '  Why  this  strange 
sensation  of  well-being  and  of  joy  ? 

"Why?  Does  one  know?  Because 
she  was  there  ?  Who  ?  She,  a  little 
unknown  English  girl?  I  did  n^t 
even  know  her.  And  for  all  that  I  was 
touched  and  conquered.  I  should 
have  liked  to  save  her,  to  sacrifice  my- 
self for  her,  to  commit  a  thousand  fol- 
lies! Strange  thing!  How  does  it 
happen  that  the  presence  of  a  woman 
overwhelms  us  so  ?  Is  it  the  power  of 
her  grace  which  enfolds  us  ?     Is  it  the 


seduction  in  her  'beauty  and  youth 
which  intoxicates  us  like  wine  ? 

"Is  it  net  rather,  as  it  were,  the 
touch  of  Love,  of  Love  the  Mysteri- 
ous, who  seeks  constantly  to  unite  two 
beings,  who  tries  his  strength  the  in- 
stant he  has  put  a  man  and  a  woman 
face  to  face,  and  who  suffuses  them 
with  a  confused  secret,  profound  emo- 
tion, just  as  you  water  the  earth  to  make 
the  flowers  spring  ? 

"  But  the  silence  of  the  shades  and 
of  the  sky  became  dreadful,  because 
we  could  thus  hear  vaguely  about  us 
an  infinite  low  roar,  the  dull  rumour  of 
the  rising  sea,  and  the  monotonous 
dashing  of  the  current .  against  the 
ship. 

"'Suddenly  I  heard  the  sound  of 
sobs.  The  youngest  of  the  little  girls 
was  crying.  Then  her  father  tried  to  con- 
sole her,  and  they  began  to  talk  in  their 
own  tongue,  which  I  did  not  under- 
stand. I  guessed  that  he  was  reassur- 
ing her,  and  that  she  was  still  afraid. 

"  I  asked  my  neighbour:  *  You  are 
not  too  cold,  are  you,  miss  ?' 

"  Oh  yes!     I  am  very  cold." 

"  I  wanted  to  give  her  my  cloak; 
she  refused  it.  But  I  had  taken  it  off 
and  I  covered  her  with  it  against  her 
will.  In  the  short  struggle  her  hand 
touched  mine.  It  made  a  charming 
shiver  run  over  my  body. 

'*  For  some  minutes  the  air  had  been 
growing  brisker,  the  dashing  of  the 
water  stronger  against  the  flanks  of 
the  ship.  I  raised  myself;  a  great 
gust  blew  in  my  face.  The  wind  was 
rising! 

"The  Englishman  perceived  this  at 
the  same  time  that  I  did,  and  said 
simply:  'That  is  bad  for  us,  this — ' 

"Of  course  it  was  bad,  it  was  cer- 
tain death  if  any  breakers,  however 
feeble,  should  attack  and  shake  the 
wreck,  which  was  already  so  loose  and 
broken  that  the  first  big  sea  would 
carry  it  off  in  a  jelly. 

"So  our  anguish  increased  from 
second  to  second  as  the  squalls  grew 
stronger  and  stronger.  Now  the  sea 
broke  a  little,  and  I  saw  in  the  dark- 
ness white  lines  appearing  and  disap- 
pearing,   which   were   lines   of  foam; 


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while  each  wave  struck  the  Marie  Jos^ 
eph^  and  shook  her  with  a  short  quiver 
which  rose  to  our  hearts. 

''  The  English  girl  was  trembling;  I 
felt  her  shiver  against  me.  And  I  had 
a  wild  desire  to  take  her  in  my  arms. 

' '  Down  there  before  and  behind  us, 
to  left  and  right,  light-houses  were 
shining  along  the  shore — light-houses 
white  and  yellow  and  red,  revolving 
like  the  enormous  eyes  of  giants  who 
were  staring  at  us,  watching  us,  wait- 
ing eagerly  for  us  to  disappear.  One 
of  them  in  special  irritated  me.  It 
went  out  every  thirty  seconds  and  it 
lit  up  again  as  soon.  It  was  indeed 
an  eye,  that  one,  with  its  lid  carelessly 
lowered  over  its  fiery  look. 

'*  From  time  to  time  the  Englishman 
struck  a  match  to  see  the  hour;  then 
he  put  his  watch  back  in  his  pocket. 
Suddenly  he  said  to  me,  over  the  heads 
of  his  daughters,  with  a  gravity  which 
was  supreme,  *  I  wish  you  a  Happy 
New  Year,  M6sieu.' 

'Mt  was  midnight.  I  held  out  my 
hand  which  he  pressed.  Then  he  said 
something  in  English,  and  suddenly  he  ' 
and  his  daughter  began  to  sing  ^  God 
Save  the  Queen,*  which  rose  through 
the  black  and  silent  air  and  vanished 
into  space. 

*' At  first  I  felt  a  desire  to  laugh; 
then  I  was  seized  by  a  strong,  fantas- 
tic emotion. 

''  It  was  something  sinister  and 
superb,  this  chant  of  the  shipwrecked*, 
the  condemned,  something  like  a  pray- 
er and  also  like  something  grander, 
something  comparable  to  the  ancient 
sublime  *  Ave  Caesar  morituri  te  salu- 
tamus.' 

*'  When  they  had  finished  I  asked 
my  neighbour  to  sing  a  ballad  alone,  a 
legend,  anything  she  liked,  to  make  us 
forget  our  terrors.  She  consented, 
and  immediately  her  clear  young  voice 
flew  off  into  the  night.  She  sang 
something  which  was  doubtless  sad, 
because  the  notes  were  long  drawn 
out,  issued  slowly  from  her  mouth  and 
hovered,  like  wounded  birds,  above 
the  waves. 

'*  The  sea  was  rising  now  and  beat- 
ing upon  our  wreck.     As  for   me,  I 


thought  only  of  that  voice.  And  I 
thought  also  of  the  sirens.  If  a  ship 
had  passed  near  by  us  what  would  the 
sailors  have  said  ?  My  troubled  spirit 
lost  itself  in  the  dream.  A  siren!  Was 
she  not  really  a  siren,  this  daughter  of 
the  sea,  who  had  kept  me  on  this 
worm-eaten  ship,  and  who  was  soon 
about  to  go  down  with  me  deep  into 
the  waters  ? 

'^  But  suddenly  we  were  all  five  roll- 
ing on  the  deck,  because  the  Marie 
Joseph  had  sunk  on  her  right  side. 
The  English  girl  had  fallen  across  me, 
and  before  I  knew  what  I  was  doing, 
thinking  that  my  last  moment  had 
come,  I  had  caught  her  in  my  arms 
and  kissed  her  cheek,  her  temple  and 
her  hair. 

*'The  ship  did  not  move  again,  and 
we,  we  also,  remained  motionless. 

**  The  father  said  •  Kate!'  The  one 
whom  I  was  holding  answered  'Yes,' and 
made  a  movement  to  free  herself.  And 
at  that  moment  I  should  have  wished 
the  ship  to  split  in  two  and  let  me  fall 
with  her  into  the  sea. 

**  The  Englishman  continued:  *  A 
little  rocking;  it's  nothing.  1  have 
my  three  daughters  safe.' 

*'  Not  having  seen  the  oldest,  he  had 
thought  she  was  lost  overboard. 

'*  I  rose  slowly,  and  suddenly  I  made 
out  a  light  on  the  sea  quite  near  us.  I 
shouted;  they  answered.  It  was  a 
boat  sent  out  in  search  of  us  by  the 
hotel- keeper,  who  had  guessed  at  our 
imprudence. 

<<  We  were  saved.  I  was  in  despair. 
They  picked  us  off  our  raft,  and  they 
brought  us  back  to  Saint-Martin. 

*'  The  Englishman  was  now  rubbing 
his  hands  and  murmuring:  '  A  good 
supper!     A  good  supper!' 

<<  We  did  sup.  I  was  not  gay.  I 
regretted  the  Marie  Joseph, 

**  We  had  to  separate  the  next  day, 
after  much  handshaking  and  many 
promises  to  write.  They  departed  for 
Biarritz.  I  was  not  far  from  following 
them. 

<*  I  was  hard  hit;  I  wanted  to  ask 
this  little  girl  in  marriage.  If  we  had 
passed  eight  days  together  I  should 
have   done   so.     How   weak   and   in- 


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THE  FORLORN  HOPE  23 

comprehensible  a  man  sometimes  is!  woman  I  have  ever  loved.     No— that 

*'  Two    years    passed   without   my  I  ever  should  have  loved. . . .  Ah,  well! 

hearing  a  word  from  them.     Then  I  Who  can  tell  ?     Facts  master  you .... 

received  a  letter  from  New  York.    She  And  then — and  then — all  passes. . . . 

ixras  married   and   wrote   to  tell    me.  She  must   be  old  now;  I  should  not 

And  since  then  we  write  to  each  other  know  her. . . Ahl  she  of  the  by-gone 

every  year  on  New  Year's  Day.     She  time,  she  of  the  wreck!     What  a  crea- 

tells   me  about  her  life,  talks   of  her  ture!. ..  .Divine!     She  writes  me  her 

children,  her   sisters,  never   her  hus-      hair  is  white That  caused  me  terri- 

band.      Why?     Ah!      Why? And      ble  pain Ah!  her  yellow  hair 

as  for   me,  I  only   talk   of  the  Marie  No,  my  English  girl  exists  no  longer. 

Joseph.     That  was,  perhaps,  the  only  . .  .They  are  sad,  such  things  as  that!" 

ANOTHER  DE  MAUPASSANT  STORY  WILL  APPEAR  NEXT  MONTH 


THE  FORLORN  HOPE 

BY    ISABEL    E.    MACKAV 

/^NE  saw  the  coming  doom  and  was  afraid, 
^^     And  said,  ''My  friends,  the  cause  for  which  you  dare 
Is  just  and  worthy,  and  it  has  my  prayer — 
My  time  and  money  are  engaged  elsewhere." 

Another  said,  "  'Twas  a  good  cause  and  true. 

Not  until  men  condemned  it  did  I  doubt, 
'  Vox  populi,  vox  Dei '  and  all  that — 

I  think  'twere  wise  and  prudent  to  step  out!" 

And  still  another  mused,  ''AH  hope  is  lost. 
It  was  a  righteous  cause,  but  then,  you  see 

I'm  older  than  I  was,  in  fact  I  feel 
Too  much  excitement  is  not  good  for  me." 

Another  saw  the  cloud  against  the  sky, 

Gave  health  and  wealth  and  all  his  manhood's  might 
To  fight  for  the  lost  cause  and  prove  it  true, 

His  battle-cry  "  Let  God  defend  the  right!" 

Alone,  against  a  serried  world  he  stood, 
His  few- companions  melted  from  his  side. 

Yet  all  his  life  he  ceased  not  in  the  strife — 
Nor  had  he  won  the  battle  when  he  died. 

When  he  was  dead  some  said,  "Was  not  this  man 

A  little  higher  than  the  common  run  ? 
This  cause  he  fought  for,  surely  it  was  good!" 

And  so,  above  his  grave,  the  fight  was  won. 


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SPRING  IN  CANADA 


BY  WILLIAM   WILFRID   CAMPBELL 

CEASON  of  life's  renewal,  love's  rebirth, 

^     And  all  hope's  young  espousals;  in  your  dream, 

I  feel  once  more  the  ancient  stirrings  of  Earth. 

Now  in  your  moods  benign  of  sun  and  wind. 
The  worn  and  ag^,  winter-wrinkled  Earth, 
Forgetting  sorrow,  sleep  and  ic6d  snows. 
Turns  joyful  to  the  glad  sun  blahd  and  kind, 
And  in  his  kiss  forgets  her  ancient  woes. 

Men  scorn  thy  name  in  song  in  these  late  days 
When  life  is  sordid,  crude,  material,  grim. 
And  love  a  laughter  unto  brutish  minds, 
Song  a  weariness  or  an  idle  whim. 
The  scoff  of  herds  of  this  world's  soulless  hinds. 
Deaf  to  the  melody  of  your  brooks  and  winds, 
Blind  to  the  beauty  of  your  splendid  dream. 

Because  earth's  hounds  and  jackals  bay  the  moon. 
Must  then  poor  Philomel  forbear  to  sing, 
Or  that  life's  barn  fowl  croak  in  dismal  tune. 
Love's  lark  in  heaven  fail  to  lift  her  wing. 

And  even  I,  who  feel  thine  ancient  dreams. 

Do  hail  thee,  wondrous  Spring, 

Love's  rare  magician  of  this  waking  world, 

Who  turnest  to  melody  all  Earth's  harshest  themes. 

And  buildest  beauty  out  of  each  bleak  thing 

In  being,  where  thy  roseate  dreams  are  furled. 

In  thee,  old  age  once  more  renews  his  youth. 
And  turns  him  kindling  to  his  memoried  past. 
Reviving  golden  moments  now  no  more. 
By  blossoming  wood  and  wide  sun-winnowed  shore; 
While  youth  by  some  supreme,  divine  intent, 
Some  spirit  beneath  all  moods  that  breathe  and  move. 
Builds  o'er  all  earth  a  luminous,  tremulous  tent 
In  which  to  dream  and  love. 

All  elements  and  spirits  stir  and  wake 
From  haunts  of  dream  and  death. 
Loosened  the  waters  from  their  ic6d  chains 
Go  roaring  by  loud  ways  from  fen  and  lake. 
While  all  the  world  is  filled  with  voice  of  rains. 

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SPRING  IN  CANADA  aj 

And  tender  droppings  toward  the  unborn  flowers, 
And  rosy  shoots  in  sunward  blossoming  bowers. 

Loosened,  the  snows  of  Winter,  cerements 
From  off  the  corpse  of  Autumn,  waste  and  flee; 
Loosened  the  gyves  of  slumber,  plain  and  stream, 
And  all  the  spirits  of  life  who  build  and  dream 
Enfranchised,  glad  and  free. 

Far  out  around  the  world  by  woods  and  meres. 
Rises,  like  morn  from  night,  a  magic  haze, 
Filled  with  dim  pearly  hints  of  unborn  days. 
Of  April's  smiles  and  tears. 

Far  in  the  misty  woodlands,  myriad  buds. 
Shut  leaves  and  petals,  peeping  one  by  one, 
As  in  a  night,  leafy  infinitudes. 
By  some  kind  inward  magic  of  the  sun. 
Where  yestereve  the  sad-voiced  lonesome  wind 
Wailed  a  wild  melody  of  mad  Winter's  mind. 
Now  clothed  with  tremulous  glories  of  the  Spring. 

Or  in  low  meadow  lands  some  chattering  brook 
But  last  eve  silent,  or  in  slumbrous  tune 
Whispering  hushed  melodies  to  the  wan-faced  moon. 
Like  life  slow  ebbing;  now  with  all  life's  dowers, 
Goes  loudly  shouting  dpwn  the  joyous  hours. 

Wan  weeds  and  clovers,  tiny  spires  of  green. 
Rising  from  myriad  meadows  and  far  fields. 
Drinking  within  the  warm  rains  sweet  and  clear; 
Put  on  the  infinite  glory  of  the  year. 

After  long  months  of  waiting,  months  of  woe. 

Months  of  withered  age  and  sleep  and  death, 

Months  of  bleak  cerements  of  iced  snow, 

After  dim  shrunken  days  and  long-drawn  nights 

Of  pallid  storm  and  haunted  northern  lights. 

Wakens  the  song,  the  bud,  the  brook,  the  thrill. 

The  glory  of  being  and  the  petalled  breath, — 

The  newer  wakening  of  a  magic  will. 

Of  life  re-stirring  to  its  infinite  deeps. 

By  wave  and  shore  and  hooded  mere  and  hill; — 

And  I,  too,  blind  and  dumb,  and  filled  with  fear. 

Life-gyved  and  frozen,  like  a  prisoned  thing. 

Feel  all  this  glory  of  the  waking  year, 

And  my  heart  fluttering  like  a  young  bird's  wing. 

Doth  tune  itself  in  joyful  guise  to  sing 

The  splendour  and  hope  of  all  the  splendid  year. 

The  magic  dream  of  Spring  I 


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INDEPENDENCE    AND    THE    TREATY- 
MAKING   POWER 


By  PROFESSOR  DE  SUMICHRAST,   of  Harvard 


ilR  WILFRID  LAURIER 
has  recently  stated  that  Ca- 
nada will  shortly  demand 
the  power  to  arrange  '*the 
preliminaries  of  all  treaties 
affecting  her  trade  and  territory,"  leav- 
ing to  the  sovereign  the  responsibility 
of  vetoing  the  arrangements  if,  in  the 
opinion  of  his  constitutional  advisers, 
they  conflict  with  the  interests  of  the 
Empire.  At  the  first  glance  nothing 
can  be  more  reasonable  or  less  fraught 
with  possibilities  of  danger.  Yet,  on 
reflection,  it  will  be  seen  that  the  de- 
mand is  much  broader  than  would  ap- 
pear; all  treaties  affecting  the  trade  or 
territory  of  Canada  are  to  be  practical- 
ly negotiated  by  the  Dominion  Gov- 
ernment. If  the  negotiations  appear 
to  threaten  the  interests  of  the  Empire 
the  Home  Government  may  veto  them. 
Is  there  not  here  as  great  a  source  of 
danger  to  the  amicable  relations  be- 
tween the  Empire  at  large  and  Canada 
as  in  any  method  hitherto  pursued? 
What  has  been  the  cry  of  late  ?  The 
cry  shouted  forth  in  meetings,  in  the 
press,  in  letters  to  the  papers,  not  in 
the  Dominion  only,  but  in  the  United 
States,  letters  written  by  Canadians? 
That  the  British  Foreign  Office  and  the 
British  Colonial  Office  have  bartered, 
have  gambled  away  the  interests  of 
Canada  for  the  sake  of  cultivating  the 
friendship  of  the  United  States.  This 
has  been  repeated  ad  nauseam^  and 
with  a  strength  of  conviction  that 
might  almost  be  alarming,  were  it  not 
that  there  are  still  cool  heads  in  charge 
of  the  direction  of  affairs  on  both  sides 
of  the  controversy. 

Now,  let  a  treaty  afFe.cting  Canadian 
trade  be  proposed  and  the  prelimin- 
aries— that  is  to  say,  the  fundamental 
and  indispensable  conditions  of  the  bar- 
gain— be  negotiated  by  Canadians  ex- 
clusively.    It  is  within  the  bounds  of 


easy  possibility,  but  not  within  the 
bounds  of  comparative  probability, 
that  the  negotiators  would  not  lose 
sight  of  Imperial  interests.  They  would 
be,  however,  much  more  likely  to 
think  solely  of  Canadian  interests  and 
to  safeguard  them  and  them  only. 
Then  let  the  Imperial  Government, 
forced  thereto  not  alone  by  the  recog- 
nition of  the  fact  that  Imperial  interests 
were  neglected  or  imperilled,  but  also 
by  the  protests  from  other  parts  of  the 
Empire  concerned  in  the  outcome  of 
the  treaty,  let  the  Imperial  Govern- 
ment veto  the  preliminaries,  and 
straightway  there  would  again  be  heard 
the  cry  that  Canadian  interests  were 
being  sacrificed,  not,  perhaps,  to  main- 
tain pleasant  relations  with  the  United 
States,  but  to  conserve  the  dignity  or 
soothe  the  susceptibilities  of  a  distant 
colony. 

The  truth  is  that  it  is  impossible  to 
conceive  of  any  treaty  afFectii^g  the 
trade  of  Canada  which  will  not,  in  a 
measure,  affect  the  interests  of  the 
Mother  Land  or  of  some  one  of  the 
great  self-governing  colonies.  The 
relations  between  the  various  parts  of 
the  Empire  are  so  close,  so  intimate, 
the  means  of  intercommunication  so 
numerous  and  so  rapid,  the  interests 
of  the  one  so  inextricably  linked  with 
the  interests  of  the  other — for  trade  is 
universal — that  it  may  be  affirmed  that 
any  treaty  bearing  upon  the  trade  of 
one  part  must  affect,  more  or  less 
strongly,  the  trade  of  another. 

The  very  growth  of  the  Canadian 
national  spirit  teAds  and  must  tend  to 
increase  that  danger.  But  that  is  not 
a  reason  for  desiring  to  check  the 
growth  of  that  spirit.  It  should  and 
ought  to  grow,  and  it  is  for  the  welfare 
of  the  Empire  that  in  every  one  of  the 
great  self-governing  colonies  a  similar 
spirit  should  be  fostered  and  develop- 


26 


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INDEPENDENCE  AND  THE  TREATY-MAKING  POWER         27 


ed;  for  the  stronger  the  national  life, 
the  deeper  the  pride  in  the  country's 
success,  the  more  stable  will  be  the 
Government,  the  greater  the  care  be- 
stowed upon  the  preservation  of  free 
institutions.  But  so  long  as  these 
great  colonies  remain  a  part  of  the 
mighty  British  Empire  there  rests  upon 
each  of  them  a  responsibility  which 
must  be  faced,  which  must  be  discharg- 
ed, and  one  part  of  that  responsibility 
is  to  consider  questions  from  an  Im- 
perial and  not  simply  from  a  colonial 
point  of  view.  The  annoyance  felt 
with  the  British  Foreign  Office,  with 
the  Colonial  Office,  springs  mainly  from 
forgetfulness  of  this  responsibility  or 
from  deliberate  renunciation  of  it. 

It  is  easy  to  affirm  that  the  Imperial 
Government  sacrifices  the  interests  of 
any  one  particular  part  of  the  Empire 
for  the  advantage  to  be  gained  by 
courting  a  foreign  power,  but  it  is  not 
so  easy  to  prove  that  this  is  the  case. 
With  so  vast  an  Empire,  composed  of 
lands  and  nationalities  so  different, 
with  trade  demands  so  confficting,  with 
political  interests  so  diverse,  the  task 
of  the  Central  Administration  becomes 
one  of  surpassing  difficulty,  and  as  it 
is  plainly  impossible  to  satisfy  every 
one,  the  best  course  is  to  seek  the 
greatest  good  of  the  greatest  number. 
In  the  execution  of  this  policy,  the 
wisdom  of  which  will  scarcely  be  ques- 
tioned, it  is  inevitable  that  susceptibil- 
ities should  be  hurt,  and  that  legitimate 
ambitions  should  be  frustrated.  The 
irritation  thus  awakened  is  natural,  and 
no  sensible  statesman  will  find  fault 
with  it,  but  every  statesman  worthy 
the  name  will  also  expect,  and  be  jus- 
tified in  expecting,  that  the  great  col- 
ony, or  indeed  the  small  colony,  for 
the  matter  of  that,  shall  take  into  con- 
sideration the  larger  interests  which 
have  made  the  course  pursued  the  only 
one  proper  under  the  circumstances. 

But  to  confine  the  question  to  Cana- 
da alone,  as  is  natural  at  this  time, 
when  Canada  has  asked  and  readily 
obtained  considerable  and  important 
modifications  of  the  conditions  gov- 
erning its  connection  with  Great 
Britain,    it   may   be  well  to  notice  a 


few  points  which  the  advocates  of  sep- 
aration— who  exist  and  make  them- 
selves heard — have  apparently  lost 
sight  of,  if  ever  indeed  they  perceived 
them.  The  examination  of  these  points 
is  not  inappropriate  even  in  view  of  the 
modifications  or  explanation  of  the  full 
treaty-making  power  declaration  of  the 
Premier,  since  as  has  been  said  above, 
that  modified  declaration  still  contains 
the  seeds  of  possible  difficulties  be- 
tween the  Mother  Country  and  the 
Dominion.  It  can  readily  be  under- 
stood that  at  no  distant  date  some 
problem  may  present  itself  requiring 
settlement  by  a  treaty  between  Great 
Britain  and  a  foreign  power,  in  which 
settlement  Canada  would  be  mainly  in- 
terested, though  it  can  never  be  solely 
interested  so  long  as  it  remains  a  part 
of  the  Empire.  Let  that  treaty  fail 
through  a  veto  of  the  Home  author- 
ities, and  it  is  quite  on  the  cards  that 
the  cry  would  go  up  from  Halifax  to 
Vancouver  for  fuller  powers  and  ab- 
solute and  final  control  of  all  the  mat- 
ters pertaining  to  the  making  of  treaties 
involving  the  trade  or  territory  of 
Canada. 

Now,  the  granting  of  these  powers 
— and  it  has  been  said,  and  is  here  re- 
peated, that  if  Canada  ever  asks  for 
them  they  will  be  granted — means  sep- 
aration and  nothing  less;  independ- 
ence; the  setting-up  of  Canada  as  a 
nation  by  itself,  content  to  rely  on  its 
own  powers  and  to  conduct  its  own 
affairs  with  the  various  parts  of  the 
Empire  to  which  it  had  once  belonged 
and  with  the  foreign  powers  with 
which  it  must  of  necessity  have  rela- 
tions. 

Has  the  time  come,  is  the  time  ap- 
preciably near,  when  Canada  would 
be  well  advised  to  demand  separation  ? 
Surely  a  moment's  consideration  will 
suffice  to  bring  home  the  conviction  to 
every  reasonable  man's  mind  that  sep- 
aration now  or  within  a  few  years 
would  mean  annexation  to  the  republic 
of  the  United  States,  and  the  utter  de- 
struction of  the  Canadian  nation  as 
such.  Doubtless  many  well-informed 
and  patriotic  Canadians  will  deny  the 
mere  possibility  of  such  an  eventual- 


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28 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


ity,  and  will  assert  that  the  national 
spirit  is  so  strong  in  the  country  that 
nothing  could  overcome  it.  And  there 
is  considerable  force  in  this  assertion, 
but  there  is  greater  force  in  the  power 
of  attraction  of  a  vast  and  energetic 
country  like  the  United  States,  and  in 
the  resolute  policy  of  aggrandisement, 
of  territorial  aggrandisement,  upon 
which  it  has  entered  of  late  years,  and 
in  which  it  has  made  such  astounding 
progress.  If  the  people  of  the  United 
States  can  resist  all  arguments  against 
the  annexation  of  lands  peopled  by 
races  wholly  alien  to  themselves,  if 
they  still  seek  to  add  to  their  domains 
territories  inhabited  by  races  absolute- 
ly incapable  of  being,  for  many  long 
years  to  come,  assimilated  with  the 
population  of  the  Republic,  is  it  at  all 
likely  that  this  land  lust  would  not  ex- 
ercise itself  in  the  direction  of  the  fer- 
tile plains  and  the  rich  mineral  lands 
to  the  north,  inhabited  by  a  people 
kindred  in  race,  alike  in  most  respects, 
and  endowed  with  a  similar  spirit  of 
energy  and  progress  ?  The  desire  has 
manifested  itself  already,  as  is  well 
known  to  the  most  cursory  reader  of 
the  American  press.  A  Boston  news- 
paper has  long  had  as  a  standing  head- 
ing, <*  Our  immediate  duty  is  the  an- 
nexation of  Canada.  **  And  while  men 
may  smile  at  this  and  think  it  a  foolish 
bid  for  popularity,  the  fact  remains 
that  by  dinning  an  idea  sufficiently 
long  into  the  heads  of  readers,  you  at 
last  succeed  in  fixing  it  firmly  in  their 
minds  and  making  them  believe  in  its 
essential  soundness.  The  attitude  of 
the  United  States  Government  towards 
Canada  has  not,  it  is  true,  been  a  very 
kindly  or  even  a  very  courteous  one. 
The  advances  made  by  the  Ottawa 
Cabinet  have  time  and  again  been  met 
with  contempt  or  indifference,  but  this 
is  one  way  of  driving  a  high-spirited 
people  to  acts  that  eventually  will  lead 
to  fusion.  The  more  the  United  States 
market  is  denied  to  Canadians  the 
more  will  the  need  of  it  make  itself 
felt,  and  when  that  sense  of  need  has 
become  overpowering,  men  will  hesi- 
tate less  at  the  method  by  which  it 
may  be  satisfied. 


An  independent  Canada,  unbacked 
by  the  power  of  the  whole  British  Em- 
pire, will  assuredly  not  obtain  conces- 
sions which  are  refused  to  it  under  ex- 
isting circumstances.  The  continuous 
and  subtle  Americanising  of  large  por- 
tions of  the  country  will  go  on  apace 
and  bear  its  natural  fruit;  the  influx  of 
American  capital  and  the  growth  of 
American  interests  will  contribute  to 
the  changing  of  opinion.  The  sever- 
ance of  the  link  with  Great  Britain  will 
involve  gradually  the  adoption  of  other 
ideals  of  government,  those  ideals  be- 
ing more  and  more  those  of  the  coun- 
try alongside,  even  though  every  Ca- 
nadian worthy  of  the  name  recognises 
at  the  present  moment  the  superiority 
of  his  own  system  of  government. 
Then  the  attraction  which  a  vast  body 
exercises  upon  a  considerably  smaller 
one  will  have  to  be  taken  into  account. 
Just  now,  as  part  of  the  British  Em- 
pire, Canada  is  part  of  a  power  infin- 
itely greater  than  the  United  States;, 
as  an  independent  nationality,  it  will 
be  infinitely  smaller. 

Treaty-making  involves  necessarily 
the  ability,  that  is  the  power,  to  en- 
force observance  of  treaties.  Canada 
will  not  be  for  some  considerable  time 
in  a  position  to  enforce  treaties  it  may 
make,  if  independent.  And  it  could 
not  reasonably  appeal  to  the  Empire 
from  which  it  had  parted  to  aid  it  in 
compelling  such  observance.  With  its 
great  and  increasing  maritime  trade, 
the  Dominion  would  speedily  find  itself 
in  difficulties  with  foreign  powers,  con- 
temptuous of  her  strength  and  deliber- 
ately neglectful  of  their  solemn  obliga- 
tions. It  will  gradually  build  up  a  navy 
of  its  own,  no  doubt,  just  as  it  is  engag- 
ed at  present  in  building  up  an  army 
from  the  excellent  and  abundant  mater- 
ial it  possesses,  but  a  navy  large  enough 
to  protect  its  commerce  in  every  part 
of  the  many  seas  will  take  a  long  time 
to  build  and  equip,  just  as  an  army 
cannot  be  manufactured  in  a  day. 
Until  Canada  is  in  a  position  to  fully 
defend  herself  and  to  protect  the  inter- 
ests of  her  people  in  every  part  of  the 
globe,  independence  would  mean  help- 
lessness and  weakness,  and  the  growth 


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of  a  strong  desire  to  be  under  the  pro- 
tection of  a  power  capable  of  making 
itself  respected.  But  having  broken 
away  from  Great  Britain,  Canada 
would  not  return  under  the  Union 
Jack;  her  destiny  would  lead  her  under 
the  Stars  and  Stripes,  and  she  would 
lose  all  trace  of  her  once  proud  nation- 
ality, and  become  merely  a  number  of 
States  of  the  Union;  not  by  any  means 
an  unpleasant x>r  unhappy  fate,  but  one 
which  would  be  far  from  realizing  the 
dreams  of  a  powerful  young  nation  to 
the  North  capable  of  holding  her  own 
in  competition  with  the  mighty  Repub- 
lic to  the  South. 

It  may  be  urged  that  the  national 
spirit,  developing  rapidly  and  strongly 
as  it  has  done  and  will  do,  would 
prove  a  bar  to  any  annexation  or 
fusion.  But  national  spirit  does  not 
alone  suffice,  and  material  circum- 
stances influence  the  fate  of  nations. 
What  is  there  to  keep  Canada  safe 
within  her  borders  as  an  independent 
power  ?  A  mere  imaginary  line  of  de- 
marcation between  herself  and  the 
United  States.  And  greater  obstacles 
than  this  have  not  prevented  the 
spreading^  of  United  States  rule  over 
desired  territories.  The  real  danger, 
however^  to  Canada's  independence 
would  arise  from  the  contiguity  of  the 
two  peoples,  from  the  absorbing  power 
of  the  Republic,  from  the  infiltration 
of  American  habits  and  modes  of 
thought,  from  the  gradual  adoption  of 
American  principles  and  practices  of 
government;  the  proselytising  would 
go  on  incessantly  and  the  results  would 
rapidly  become  manifest. 

An  independent  Canada  would  de- 
sire to  round  out  her  domains.  There 
is  not  much  room  to  do  so,  certainly; 
yet  there  are  still  territories  which 
seem  naturally  destined  to  be  included 
within  the  political  rule  of  the  Domin- 
ion. Newfoundland  assuredly  will 
come  into  the  Dominion  at  no  distant 
day,  yet  there  is  constant  flirting  with 
the  United  States  on  the  part  of  that 
island  province,  and  there  are  many 
reasons  which  would  make  it  advan- 
tageous for  the  United  States  to  in- 
clude it  within  its  possessions.    Near 


Newfoundland  lie  the  French  islands, 
of  no  considerable  value  to  France, 
it  is  true,  since  the  heavy  blow  struck 
at  foreign  fisheries  on  the  Banks  by  the 
passage  of  the  Bait  Act.  But. any  pro- 
posal to  acquire  these  islands,  to  acquire 
Greenland,  would  meet  with  opposi- 
tion not  in  France  and  Denmark  alone, 
but  in  the  United  States.  It  is  but  a 
short  time  since  one  of  the  leading 
papers  in  Boston,  discussing  this 
point,  declared  that  any  attempt  to  add 
these  territories  to  the  Dominion  would 
evoke  the  application  of  the  Monroe 
doctrine.  The  argument  used  to  jus- 
tify this  position  was  unquestionably 
unsound,  but  sound  arguments  are  not 
always  necessary  when  force  will  an- 
swer the  purpose  equally  well.  Here, 
then,  would  be  a  new  danger  to  a 
young  and  independent  Canada,  and 
a  failure  to  accomplish  its  purpose 
would  be  galling  in  the  extreme  to  that 
proud  country. 

So  far  the  question  has  been  con- 
sidered from  the  point  of  view  of  the 
advantage  and  disadvantage  to  Canada 
only,  but  there  is  also  the  question  of 
the  advantage  and  disadvantage  to  the 
Empire.  Here  it  is  plain  that  what- 
ever benefit  the  Empire  might  derive 
from  satisfying  the  legitimate  aspira- 
tions of  the  Dominion,  the  loss  to 
itself,  by  the  separation  of  Canada, 
would  be  considerable,  though  not  ir- 
retrievable. Canada,  Australia,  New 
Zealand  are  the  three  great  self-gov- 
erning colonies  that  constitute  the 
strongest  portions  of  the  vast  Empire. 
For  one  of  them  to  break  away  would 
be  to  strike  a  blow  at  the  real  power 
and  at  the  prestige  of  the  Empire.  It 
would  precipitate  a  general  sundering 
of  the  parts,  and  set  an  example  that 
probably  would  be  followed  by  other 
colonies  more  safely  situated,  for  the 
development  of  their  national  aspira- 
tions, than  is  the  Dominion.  This  re- 
sult could  not  but  injuriously  affect  the 
interests  of  civilisation,  and  from  a 
purely  business  point  of  view,  it  would 
be  an  unprofitable  transaction.  The 
united  force  of  the  Empire,  as  at  pres- 
ent constituted,  could  never  be  pos- 
sessed by  any  of  the  separate  portions, 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


ai\d  there  is,  not  now  the  opportunity 
for  colonisation  under  suitable  climes 
and  in  favourable  circumstances  which 
existed  when  the  three  great  colonies 
were  first  founded.  Each  of  them, 
with  the  reservations  already  made 
concerning  Canada,  could  grow  into 
strong  nations,  but  it  is  not  conceiv- 
able that  they  would  exert  the  same  in- 
fluence on  the  world  which  the  Empire 
now  exercises.  And  in  this  loss  the 
whole  human  race  would  share. 

What  then?  Shall  the  growth, 
shall  the  progress  of  the  great  colo- 
nies be  stayed,  or  even  merely  hinder- 
ed, by  such  considerations  ?  Shall  the 
legitimate  aspirations  of  Canada,  in 
the  first  place,  of  Australia  and  New 
Zealand  in  the  next,  be  denied  realisa- 
tion because  it  seems  advisable  to  the 
lovers  of  empire  that  the  British  Do- 
minions shall  be  maintained  intact? 
No,  there  is  no  reason  why  these 
great  countries,  why  these  energetic 
peoples  should  not  enjoy  all  the  bene- 
fits to  which  they  are  naturally  en- 
titled. The  question  they  have  to 
consider  is  simply  whether  they  cannot 
obtain  all  they  really  need  without 
breaking  away  from  the  mother  land. 
There  must  be  give  and  take  in  every 
partnership,  and  the  relation  between 
the  great  colonies  and  the  mother  land 
is  now  the  relation  of  partners  among 
themselves,  and  not  in  any  wise  that 
of  superior  and  inferior,  of  suzerain 
and  dependent.  The  interests  ot  the 
whole  concern  are  those  which  must 
ever  be  kept  in  view,  and  with  judici- 
ous and  calm  examination  of  local  in- 
terests, to  use  the  word  local  in  a 
broader  sense  than  ordinarily,  means 
of  conciliating  them  with  the  greater, 
because  more  geaeral  interests,  can 
surely  be  found.  Mr.  Balfour's  speech 
at  Manchester,  in  which  he  spoke  of 
the  introduction  of  the  Canadian  Min- 
ister of  Militia  and  Defence  into  the 
membership  of  the  Imperial  Commit- 
tee of  Defence,  has  shown  how  a  solu- 
tion of  the  difficulty  has  been  found  in 
one  department,  and  if  it  can  be  found 
in  one  it  can  be  found  in  all. 

Putting  aside  the  loss  to  the  coun- 
try  which    would  be   involved  in  the 


withdrawal  of  the  armed  forces  of  the 
Empire,    both    land  and   sea,  a    loss 
which  would  eventually  be  made  up  by 
the  creation  and  development  of  a  Ca- 
nadian army  abd  navy,  there  would  be 
material  and  sentimental  losses  which 
have  also  much  importance.    The  enor- 
mous   increase   of  expenditure  which 
would  be  necessitated   by  the  proper 
defence  of  the  land,  an  increase  which, 
however,  should  already  be  sanctioned 
to   a  certain  large   extent,  would   be 
added  to  by  the  expenditure  required 
by  the  creation  of  a  diplomatic  and  a 
consular  corps.     For  the  commercial 
interests  of  the  Dominion   could  not 
well  be  left  to  take  care  of  themselves, 
especially  in  the  face  of  the  keen  com- 
petition which  is  every  day  growing 
more   strenuous.     Under   the  present 
regime  Canada  benefits,  without  spend- 
ing a  single  penny,  by  the  whole  ad- 
mirable diplomatic  and  consular  work 
done  by  the  Imperial  authorities,  the 
cost  of  which  is  borne  solely  by  the 
British  taxpayer.     Under  the  regime 
of  independence  Canada  would  have  to 
bear  unaided  the  whole  of  that  expend- 
iture.     And    no    doubt   it  would    be 
able  to  do  so  after  a  time,  after  it  had 
developed  the  vast  and  yet  unexploited 
resources  known  to  be  at  her  disposal. 
But    successive    governments    would 
have  to  undergo  very  bitter  criticism 
at  the  hands  of  merchants  and  others 
whose  interests  would  necessarily  suf- 
fer  during,  a   period   of  years.     And 
whether  there  would  not  in  the  mean- 
time arise  a  strong  movement  for  an- 
nexation to  the   United  States,  so  as 
to  diminish  the  burden  and  to  gain  ad- 
vantages to  be  reaped  only  by  associa- 
tion with  a  powerful  and  enormously 
wealthy   nation,   is   a  question  which 
many  would  unhesitatingly  answer  in 
the  affirmative. 

Canada  is  in  the  position  of  the  son 
of  a  wealthy  family  who  has  had  no  care 
in  regard  to  providing  for  himself,  and 
who  suddenly  desires  to  launch  out  for 
himself.  The  easy  life  hitherto  led 
changes  into  one  of  striving  and  self- 
denial,  and  the  temptation  to  return  to 
a  position  of  comfort  is  apt  to  be  over- 
powering.    Here  again  one   sees  the 


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INDEPENDENCE  AND  THE  TREATY^MAKING  POWER         31 


danger  of  the  sinking  of  Canada's  in- 
dividuality in  the  United  States,  and 
as  this  is  a  consummation  undesired 
by  any  one  in  the  Dominion  at  the 
present  time,  it  may  be  termed  a  dan- 
ger. In  other  respects  it  is  not.  For 
to  belong  to  so  great,  so  powerful,  -so 
rich,  so  progressive  a  country  as  the 
United  States  can  by  no  stretch  of  im- 
agination be  considered  an  evil.  It  is 
true  that  all  those  forms  of  govern- 
ment  of  which  Canadians  are  so  justly 
proud  would  be  greatly  modified;  that 
the  special  and  extraordinary  privi- 
leges enjoyed  by  one  province  at  least 
would  be  swept  away,  never  again  to 
be  restored;  but  there  would  be  plainly 
compensations  of  a  nature  to  satisfy 
many  of  the  discontented.  Yet  the 
main  thing,  the  feeling  of  nationality, 
would  vanish;  that  feeling  which  means 
so  much  to  those  who  now  inhabit  Ca- 
nada, and  which  they  have  developed 
at  such  cost  and  with  such  success. 

Then,  again,  Canada  would  lose  her 
connection  with  the  glorious  historical 
past  of  the  Empire  which  she  has  help- 
ed to  build  up- and  so  lately  helped  to 
extend.  Her  traditions  would  have  to 
be  made  up  of  the  War  of  Independ- 
ence, and  Bunker  Hill  day  take  the 
place  of  Dominion  Day  and  Paarde- 
berg  anniversary.  The  feeling  of  con- 
nection with  the  mother  land  would  re- 
main in  the  breasts  of  the  older  men, 
but  in  the  hearts  of  the  younger  gen- 
eration, untrained  to  think  of  England 
as  home,  might  grow  up  the  feeling  of 
hostility  and  mistrust  which  has  so 
long  swayed  the  speech  and  actions  of 
Americans  in  all  matters  in  which 
Great  Britain  is  concerned.  Whether 
this  is  worth  the  obtaining  full  treaty- 
making  powers  under  the  conditions 
enunciated  by  Sir  Wilfrid  Laurier  may 
seem  somewhat  doubtful. 

A  change  must  come;  it  is  impossi- 
ble, every  thinking  person  recognises 
that  fact,  for  Canada  to  remain  in  a 
purely  dependent  position  and  hemmed 
in  by  restrictions  that,  however  wise 
and  sound  when  first  imposed,  she  has 
DOW  outgrowth,  and  the  necessity  for 
which  consequently  no  longer  exists. 
But  in  the  discussion  of  the  proposal, 


which  Parliament  will  be  invited  to  en- 
ter upon,  in  the  discussion  of  the 
measure,  which  will  have  to  take  place 
before  the  constituencies,  the  point 
which  all  true  lovers  of  Canada,  all 
real  patriots,  all  desirous  of  the  best 
solution  of  a  difficulty  palpable  to  all 
men,  must  steadily  keep  in  mind,  is 
that  by  the  side  of  the  purely  Canadian 
interests  are  the  interests  of  the  Em- 
pire— that  is,  in  a  sense,  of  the  human 
race,  since  the  British  Empire  stands 
for  civilisation,  justice  and  progress 
and  liberty  throughout  the  world.  The 
need  is  for  Canadians  to  take  not 
merely  a  sectional  view  of  the  proble'm, 
but  to  rise  to  the  height  of  Imperial 
consideration  of  it,  and  to  understand 
that  no  department  of  the  British  Gov- 
ernment is  so  hide-bound  as  to  refuse 
to  consider  the  just  claims  of  the  great 
Dominion  and  to  do  them  the  fullest 
justice.  But  there  is  also  the  right, 
on  the  part  of  the  Empire,  to  ask  that 
Canadians  shall  endeavour  to  realise 
the  extent  and  complexity  of  the  prob- 
lems which  confront  the  Imperial  ad- 
ministration, and  that  Canadians, 
through  their  authorised  representa- 
tives, and  likewise  in  their  individual 
capacity,  shall  strive  to  conciliate  their 
own  legitimate  demands  with  the  needs 
of  the  Empire  at  large.  If  there  be 
any  advantage,  if  there  be  any  pride^ 
if  there  be  any  strength  derivable  from 
the  fact  of  belonging  to  the  might- 
iest and  the  best  governed  Empire  the 
world  has  ever  beheld,  then  it  is  right 
to  make  some  sacrifices  for  the  com- 
mon weal,  and  to  so  adjust  matters  that 
while  it  may  be  impossible  to  obtain 
all  that  naturally  and  legitimately  the 
country  is  entitled  to,  the  greatest 
good  of  the  greatest  number  shall  be 
attained.  Solidarity  is  equally  as  nec- 
essary in  the  relations  between  the 
various  parts  of  a  great  empire  as  it  is 
between  the  inhabitants  of  any  coun- 
try, between  the  members  of  any  as- 
sociation. Moderation,  breadth  of 
view,  thought  for  other  parts  of  the 
Empire,  foresight  and  prudence,  these 
be  the  qualities  which,  in  the  discus- 
sion of  this  que'stion,  men  of  sense 
should  bring  to  bear  upon  it. 


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CANADIAN  CELEBRITIES 


NO.  51— HON.  J.  I.  TARTE 


iOSEPH  ISRAEL  TARTE 
received  a  college  educa- 
tion in  Quebec,  where  the 
old  idea  prevails  that  cul- 
ture resides  chiefly  in  the 
humanities.  This  training  gave  him 
imagination.  His  professional  course 
in  law  gave  him  practical  aims.  Under 
the  circumstances  it  was  almost  in- 
evitable that  he  should  become  a  jour- 
nalist after  the  Parisian  manner,  that 
is  a  poet  well  ballasted.  Sir  Wilfrid 
Laurier  began  in  nearly  the  same  way, 
only  his  studies  took  the  shape  of  .pub- 
lic speaking,  while  Mr.  Tarte's  inclined 
toward  giving  politics  a  literary  favour. 
The  direction  their  talents  assumed  and 
perhaps  the  comparative  success  of 
their  careers  lies  in  their  temperaments. 
Sir  Wilfrid  Xaurier  abandoned  journal- 
ism for  the  law;  Mr.  Tarte  abandoned 
law  for  journalism.  In  other  words. 
Sir  Wilfrid  felt  that  the  metes  and 
bounds  of  the  law  were  just  the  cor- 
rective his  imagination  needed,  while 
Mr.  Tarte  felt  that  they  were  a  con- 
straint.. Sir  Wilfrid  is  a  great  orator 
with  a  cool  head.  In  his  most  glow- 
ing periods  he  will  not  lose  sight  of 
caution.  Without  seeming  so,  his 
eloquence  is  wary  and  deliberate  and  he 
is  never  more  convincing  than  when  he 
skirts  the  danger  point.  He  is  con- 
ceivably an  indifferent  editor  because 
the  oratorical  style  is  too  diffuse  for 
leading  articles.  Mr.  Tarte,  on  the 
other  hand,  is  a  great  journalist  with  a 
hot  head  and  an  eager  tongue.  When 
he  speaks  he  is  apt  to  be  carried  away 
by  a  metaphor.  Thoughtful  enough 
when  he  has  his  pen  in  hand,  his  lan- 
guage as  careful  as  it  is  picturesque, 
his  argument  as  studied  as  it  is  warm, 
he  will  chase  butterflies  on  a  public 
platform.  He  behaves  like  a  boy  out 
of  school,  so  pleased  is  he  to  get  away 
for  a  while  from  the  ordered  business 
by  which  he  makes  a  living.  Other 
men  have  felt  the  same  way.  If  poli- 
tics is  a  play  hour  it  cannot  be  treated 


as  a  duty.  That  would  rob  it  of  all 
it^  delight.  If  the  serious  view  of 
statesmanship  does  not  prevail,  then  it 
is  an  intellectual  pastime,  and  a  man 
must  not  be  censured  for  adjusting 
himself  to  all  the  quirks  of  the  game. 
With  Mr.  Tarte  politics  is  a  game. 
His  success  as  an  organizer  in  Quebec 
shows  that  he  learned  all  the  moves. 
His  active  mind  takes  pleasure  in  ap- 
plying them.  This  is  the  charitable, 
perhaps  the  true  construction  to  put  on 
those  vagaries  of  opinion  which  at 
times  have  labelled  him  as  a  renegade 
to  both  the  political  parties.  If  politics 
is  a  mere  mental  recreation  like  chess 
or  whist  there  can  be  no  fidelity  to  any 
line  of  action  beyond  the  immediate  cir- 
cumstance which  is  to  be  negotiated. 
The  responsibility  is  not  continuous. 
Of  course  Mr.  Tarte  can  make  out  a 
good  case  by  saying  that  the  most  en- 
lightened consistency  is  to  be  true  to 
one's  self.  And  sometimes  he  goes 
even  farther,  declaring  that  he  has 
cherished  the  same  views  all  his  life — 
he  has  always  been  a  protectionist. 
Admitting  the  force  of  both  his  argu- 
ments, the  chief  contention  that  Mr. 
Tarte  makes  a  game  of  politics  will  re- 
main undisturbed.  It  is  a  game  that 
Frenchmen  will  relish  so  long  as  the 
name  France  stands  for  glory,  excite- 
ment and  the  applause  of  the  foot- 
lights. It  is  a  game  that  ambitious 
men  in  Quebec  will  come  to  as  easily 
as  a  cat  laps  milk.  Mr.  Tarte  would 
never  have  been  satisfied  with  the  judi- 
cious compliment  that  filters  through 
to  a  clever  writer.  What  he  wanted 
was  the  thunderous  approval  of  the 
hustings  and  the  Parliament,  the  hand 
clapping  and  seat  thumping,  visible, 
audible,  tremendous,  which  puts  praise 
beyond  a  doubt.  It  is  a  healthy  trait 
in  any  man's  character.  *Tis  an  in- 
stinct of  human  nature,  which  with 
some  others  not  as  worthy,  has  given 
Canada  many  a  great  publicist  from 
Quebec. 


32 


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33 


As  faith  can  scale  great- 
er heights  than  reason,  so 
the  man  who  makes  poli- 
tics a  game  cannot  com- 
pass the  same  pinnacles 
as  the  serious  statesman. 
Without  enlarging  on  this 
question,  think  again  of 
Sir  Wilfrid  Laurier  and 
Mr.  Tarte — the  one  earn- 
estf  purposeful,  straight- 
forward, hewing  to  the 
line;  the  other  volatile, 
nimble,  a  truant,  always 
looking  for  the  pot  of  gold 
at  the  end  of  the  rainbow; 
the  one  Premier,  firmly 
iixed  in  the  esteem  and 
confidence  of  the  people; 
the  other,  having  scram- 
bled part  way  up  the  steeps 
of  fame,  now  fallen  and 
suspected,  although  unfair- 
ly. The  public  has  simply 
valued  Mr.  Tarte  by  the 
levity  of  his  own  conduct 
and  the  rashness  of  his 
own  utterances.  For  in- 
stance, when  he  went 
abroad  for  his  health  he 
puzzled  all  except  his  inti- 
mates by  the  contradic- 
tory remarks  that  were 
cabled  to  Canada.  In  London  he  was 
an  Imperialist,  all-red,  British  to  the 
core;  in  Paris  he  was  for  the  tricolour, 
Gaulois  in  every  fibre.  To  those  out- 
side the  Cabinet  it  appeared  that  Mr. 
Tarte  never  opened  his  mouth  except 
to  put  his  foot  in  it.  But  his  best 
friends  knew  that  it  was  one  and  the 
same  Mr.  Tarte  under  different  cir- 
cumstances, Mr.  Tarte  who  believes  in 
plucking  the  day,  Mr.  Tarte  acting  up 
to  the  lights,  the  music,  the  rare 
viands,  the  dulcet  wines  and  the  at- 
mosphere of  mutual  compliment  at 
those  public  banquets.  If  Mr.  Tarte 
had  taken  his  politics  seriously  he 
would  have  been  more  guarded.  In 
part,  too,  it  was  the  fault  of  his  prac- 
tice as  a  writer.  The  method  of  the 
writer  is  to  weigh,  polish,  condense, 
be  pithy  and  sententious,  and  when 
Mr.  Tarte  is  engaged  that  way  he  is 


HON.   J.    ISRAEL   TARTE 

PHOTO  BY  TOPLKY 

calm  and  reflective.  The  method  of 
the  speaker  is  to  glow,  to  soar — pru- 
dently, of  course— to  trick  out  with 
pretty  purple  patches  and  to  expand. 
Tarte  the  Journalist  could  never  think 
wisely  on  his  feet.  Attempting  to  ex- 
pand he  invariably  bursts  and  his  ex- 
citable English  will  usually  make  a  bad 
mistake  a  little  worse. 

Allowing  something  for  exaggera- 
tion. Dr.  Johnson**  verdict  on  Oliver 
Goldsmith  applies  to  Mr.  Tarte.  He 
writes  like  an  angel  and  talks  like  poor 
Poll,  so  far  as  party  policy  is  concern- 
ed. It  seems  strange  that  a  man  who 
displays  craft  and  finesse  as  an  organ- 
izer should  be  so  disappointing  in  his 
public  performances. 

Mr.  Tarte  has  been  compared  to 
that  other  Joseph  over  seas,  Mr. 
Chamberlain,  and  indeed  there  is  some 
resemblance  in  the  incidents  of  their 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


careers.  Both  Mr.  Chamberlain  and 
Mr.  Tarte  have  left  their  party  twice 
and  both  times  their  party  was  in 
power.  This  seems  to  prove  that  their 
change  of  opinion  was  in  each  cas<e 
sincere,  for  an  ambitious  man  gains 
nothing  except  moral  comfort  by  going 
into  opposition.  In  this  regard  Mr. 
Tarte  has  the  advantage  of  Mr.  Cham- 
berlain, for,  though  Mr.  Chamberlain 
might  have  had  reason  to  believe  that 
Home  Rule  would  defeat  the  Glad- 
stone Government,  Mr.  Tarte  could 
not  have  felt  so  sure  that  the  Mc- 
Greevy  scandal  would  upset  Sir  John 
Macdonald.  It  has  even  been  hinted 
that  a  friendship  for  Chapleau,  who 
was  being  squeezed  out  of  the  Cabinet, 
led  Mr.  Tarte  to  make  these  revela- 
tions and  to  undertake  all  the  obloquy 
and  reproach.  In  which  case  Mr. 
Tarte  takes  rank  with  Damon  and 
Pythias.  To  pursue  the  analogy  fur- 
ther. When  Mr.  Chamberlain  separ- 
ated from  the  Unionist  party  it  may 
have  been  as  much  his  ineligibility  to 
be  Premier  as  a  passion  for  preferential 
trade  that  inspired  him.  But  when 
Mr.  Tarte  left  the  Liberal  party,  not  so 
long  ago,  at  a  time  when  it  was  in  its 
very  plenilune  of  strength,  he  could  not 
have  imagined  that  his  defection  would 
diminish  by  one  jot  the  towering  affec- 
tion felt  by  Quebec  toward  Sir  Wilfrid 
Laurier  and  his  Government.  Those 
who  call  him  Judas  Iscariot  Tarte  do 
him  a  great  injustice.  His  personal 
honesty  has  not  been  assailed.  His 
department  was  cleanly  administered. 
His  sincerity  cannot  be  impeached. 
The  one  charge  against  him  as  a  poli- 
tician is  that  he  is  unstable,  capricious, 
easily  distracted  by  honeyed  words. 
Although  Mr.  Tavte  is  again  a  candi- 
date for  sanctification  from  the  Con- 
servative party,  he  and  Sir  Wilfrid 
Laurier  entertain  a  high  regard  for 
each  other,  a  mutual  friendship  which 
could  not  subsist  if  there  was  a  smirch 
of  treachery  anywhere.  He  is  a 
dbughty  fighter,  although  not  perhaps 
so  dauntless  and  rugged  as  that  one 
man  who  has  undertaken,  single-hand- 
ed, to  switch  a  world-girdling  Empire 
to  his  views. 


Mr.  Tarte  has  never  lacked  courage. 
His  health  is  delicate,  but  his  enemies, 
of  whom  he  has  many,  have  always 
acted  on  him  like  a  tonic.  Did  his 
energy  flag  ?  A  taunt  would  bring  him 
to  his  feet.  Be  he  never  so  sick  he  is 
always  ready  for  a  skirmish.  This 
chipper  little  man,  a  bundle  of  nerves, 
would  jump  off  the  surgeon's  table 
any  day  to  take  a  hand  in  a  fight.  He 
has  had  more  than  his  share  of  illness. 
His  is  one  of  those  rebellious  livers 
that  willlhave  to  be  killed  with  a  stick. 
But  he  is  no  hypochondriac.  He  is  as 
blithe  as  the  flowers  of  May.  When 
Mr.  Tarte  dropped  out  of  the  Cabinet 
and  left  not  a  ripple  behind  him,  he 
must  have  been  mortified  to  discover 
that  the  Minister  bulked  so  much 
larger  than  the  man.  That  is,  he 
would  have  felt  that  way  if  politics  had 
been  to  him  anything  more  than  a  hob- 
by, with  a  few  perquisites  like  power 
and  favour  tied  on  to  it.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  the  statesman  relapsed  quite 
gracefully  into  the  journalist,  and  the 
editorials  in  La  Patrte^  which  had  been 
his  putatively  while  he  was  a  Cabinet 
Minister,  now  became  his  authoritative- 
ly. Mr.  Tarte  takes  an  abiding  pride 
in  his  profession,  which  the  profession 
returns  with  interest,  for  he  is  a  tren- 
chant writer.  In  the  House  of  Com- 
mons the  Minister  of  Public  Works 
was  a  frequent  visitor  to  the  Press 
Gallery,  and  he  seemed  to  take  as  much 
satisfaction  from  a  casual  seat  in  the 
humble  little  eyry  over  the  Speaker's 
chair  as  he  did  in  his  more  conspicuous 
place  on  the  Ministerial  benches.  His 
nose  for  news,  rare  in  the  French  jour- 
nalist who  plumes  himself  more  on  his 
views,  provided  La  Patrie  with  many 
scoops  when  its  proprietor  was  **in 
the  know,"  and  provides  it  now  with 
many  happy  guesses  based  on  what  he 
learned  of  currents  of  opinion  when  he 
was  a  cabinet  minister.  As  the  pos- 
sessor of  a  vivacious  French  prose 
style  quite  equal  to  his  Paris  models, 
charged  with  wit  and  brightened  with 
personal  touches  after  the  best  boule- 
vard manner,  Mr.  Tarte  is  the  premier 
journalist  of  Quebec.  The  animation 
and  colour  which  betray  him  into  verbal 


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LITERARY  PORTRAITS 


35 


indiscretions,  lend  piquancy  to  his  pen- 
ned articles,  where  they  can  be  bestow- 
ed in  phrases  judiciously  weighed  and 
distributed.  Perhaps  Mr.  Tarte's  mis- 
fortunes are  due  to  the  fact  that  as  a 
newspaper  man  he  can  see  two  sides  to 
every  question.  Perhaps,  as  we  said 
before,  it  is  because  he  is  by  nature  a 
poet  with  a  ballast  of  common  sense. 
When  the  poet  is  uppermost  the  com- 


mon sense  suffers,  and  when  common 
sense  is  forgotten  or  slighted  political 
parties  get  bumped.  Mr.  Tarte  has 
such  a  fine  literary  taste  that  he  might 
be  tempted  to  sacrifice  a  policy  to  it. 
In  Canada  it  is  not  customary  for  edi- 
torial writers  to  sign  their  articles, 
but  Mr.  Tarte's  leaders  need  no  signa- 
ture.    The  style  is  the  man. 

H,  Franklin  Gadshy 


LITERARY  PORTRAITS 

By  HALDANE  MacFALL,  Author  of  ''The  MasterfolK  ''The   Wooing 
of  Jezebel  Pettyjer,'*  Etc. 

I.— GEORGE   MEREDITH 


lEORGE  MEREDITH  faces 
life  a  mighty  laugher,  glad 
to  be  alive,  glad  to  walk 
the  fresh  sweet  earth,  glad 
to  breathe  the  southwest 
winds  that  blow  health  into  the  lungs 
of  the  race  of  which  he  is  so  proud  a 
bein^,  glad  of  this  splendid  wayfaring 
amid  the  adventures  that  make  up  the 
journey  of  life.  And  what  a  mighty 
laugh  it  is  !  Right  from  the  deep  chest 
— setting  one  chuckling  at  the  very 
merriment  of  it.  The  finely-chiselled 
nose,  with  the  sharp  pugnacious  tilt  at 
end,  betrays  eagerness  for  the  duel  of 
wit,  eagerness  to  know  all,  eagerness 
to  be  at  the  very  front  of  life.  The 
leaping  energy  that  lurks  behind  the 
dreamy  eyelids  finds  interest  in  every- 
thing. Meredith  sees  life  too  exquisite- 
ly to  be  afraid  of  being  accused  of  re- 
garding small  things.  His  pointed 
grey  beard  gives  the  suggestion  to  the 
strong,  clean-shaped  head  of  an  ad- 
miral of  our  day.  He  is  of  the  type  of 
the  man  of  action.  To  hear  Meredith 
talk  of  the  coming  youngsters  of  the 
day,  asking  his  keen  questions  about 
their  personal  attainments,  their  ap- 
pearance, their  promise,  his  nervous 
face  all  alert  to  know,  is  to  be  in  the 
feverish  company  of  an  eager  youth. 


His  feet  no  longer  pace  the  long 
walk  up  the  grassy  slope  of  the  majes- 
tic hill  that  sweeps  from  his  doors  up- 
wards into  the  clouds,  but  the  keen 
brain  is  as  passionately  inquisitive  of 
the  world  as  in  the  years  when  his 
youth  took  him  blithely  walking  along 
its  ways.  There  is  in  the  bearing  of 
the  man  a  distinction,  a  splendour  of 
manners,  a  perfection  of  the  carriage 
of  the  body,  as  of  a  great  man  saying 
and  doing  the  simple  thing  with  an  air 
that  realizes  the  word  aristocrat  in  hu- 
man shape  more  vividly  than  in  any 
living  man.  He  gives  a  more  profound 
sense  of  greatness  than  any  one  I  have 
ever  met. 

The  suggestion  of  a  delicacy  almost 
feminine,  in  the  pictures  of  him,  is  ob- 
literated in  the  presence  of  the  real 
man,  whose  every  accent  is  virile  in  its 
refinement.  Yet  in  him  must  be  some 
.great  share  of  the  woman's  insight. 
His  women  are  in  the  front  rank  of 
artistic  creation. 

The  art  of  George  Meredith  is  given 
to  the  optimistic  conception  of  life. 
Life  is  a  good  thing — a  thing  to  be 
lived  handsomely  and  fearlessly,  not  a 
thing  to  be  denied  and  evaded  and 
sneaked  through.  It  is  God's  good 
gift,  to  be  breathed  into  the  body,  to  be 


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tasted y  to  be  essayed.  It  is  a  won- 
drous romance;  and,  says  Meredith, 
•*The  young  who  avoid  the  region  of 
Romance  escape  the  title  of  Fool  at  the 
cost  of  a  celestial  crown/' 

He  understands  human  nature, 
weighs  it  in  the  balance  wittily  and 
with  a  profound  humour.  He  laughs 
at  its  weaknesses.  He  twits  its  follies, 
always  with  afiection,  always  making 
allowances  for  it .  He  takes  no  side 
bitterly — he  remembers  always  that 
every  human  soul  is  his  cousin. 

The  artistic  use  of  his  splendid  prose 
is  as  though  some  great  master  made 
great  music.  When  the  stage  is  held 
by  the  thunder  of  the  warring  elements, 
Meredith*s  prose  swells  and  resounds 
to  the  din.  When  he  would  make 
Dame  Gossip  yield  into  our  attentive 
ears  some  quaint  secret,  the  prose 
drops  to  a  suggestive  whisper,  with 
wink  of  eye  and  with  critical  under-lip 
protruded. 

Someone  has  spoken  disparagingly 
of  Meredith's  '^bedizened  phrase/*  It 
is  rather  a  neat  stab.  Indeed,  the 
critic  generally  represents  Meredith  as 
the  Man  Difficult  to  Understand.  He 
is  held  up  as  the  juggler  of  words — the 
puzzle  to  be  given  up  with  a  shrug  of 
the  shoulders. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  whole  of  life, 
every  incident,  every  act,  every  object 
is  a  real  thing,  a  significant  thing, 
freshly  seen  and  interesting  from  its 
very  essence — and  Meredith  records 
the  picture  of  it,  the  emotion  it  causes 
within  his  senses,  in  the  whimsical 
fashion  in  which  his  eyes  see  it.  There 
is  a  certain  ruggedness  in  his  phrasing, 
born  of  his  virile  love  of  life.  There  is 
often  enough  an  obscurity  of  statement 
due  to  the  quick,  witty  way  he  records 
his  impression.  His  original  eyesight 
bewilders  the  dullard  who  can  see  no 
romance  in  anything  not  dead  a  hun- 
dred years.  He  sets  down  the  sub- 
tleties of  womanhood  with  subtlety,  as 
he  needs  must  if  the  subtlety  is  to  be 
retained.  His  fancy  runs  riot  in  pithy 
wit  and  brilliant  dialogue,  for  he  sees 
life  very  large  and  very  profoundly. 

His  defect  is  bred  from  his  very 
greatness,     from    his    brilliant    parts. 


His  love  of  elaborate  subtleties  of  phras- 
ing, and  the  avoidance  of  the  simple 
statement  from  its  lack  of  colour,  lead 
him  into  perplexities.  His  most  seri- 
ous defect  is  a  tendency  to  suggest 
only  the  broader  aspects  of  things,  so 
that  he  seems  to  polish  life  into  a 
dandified  existence  that  flinches  from 
passion  and  the  tender  emotions  that 
are  very  life.  But  the  report  of  his  de- 
fects is  exaggerated  out  of  all  propor- 
tion by  the  ordinary  critic.  The  big 
pulsing  life  is  there  under  the  subtle 
suggestion  that  goes  round  it,  and 
wittily  and  gracefully  plays  with  it. 
He  lashes  at  vice,  but  he  kills  it  as  a 
cat  kills  a  snake,  exulting  in  his  cer- 
tainty. 

There  is  no  man  in  English  letters 
who  has  been  so  misunderstood  as 
George  Meredith — there  is  no  man 
more  thoroughly  misunderstood  to- 
day. I  know  of  one  brilliant  literary 
woman  of  Irish  birth — and  the  literary 
Irish  are  not  given  to  diffidence — who 
in  Meredith's  presence  was  in  a  state 
of  stammering  dread,  fearing  the  irony 
and  satire  of  his  tongue.  Meredith  !  a 
man  with  the  heart  of  a  boy,  the  com- 
radeship of  a  subaltern,  the  breezy, 
large  sympathy  of  a  sailor,  the  keen, 
universal  inquisitiveness  of  a  diplomat, 
the  wide  interest  of  a  man  of  affairs — 
a  man  to  whom  nothing  is  too  small 
but  pettiness,  nothing  too  insignificant 
but  baseness — a  man  to  whom  the  sub- 
tle brain  and  the  quick  instinct  of 
womanhood  have  been  laid  open  as  to 
no  writer  who  has  written  in  our 
tongue.  A  man  with  a  heart  as  larg^e 
as  a  cathedral.  This  is  he  who  is  la- 
belled for  the  man  in  the  street  as  the 
excruciating  distorter  of  words — the 
man  in  the  street  who  has  never  even 
tried  to  understand  him,  but  has  been 
content  to  take  for  granted  the  hee- 
hawing  estimate  of  little  groundling- 
writers. 

For  him  who  reads  a  novel  simply 
as  pleasant  idleness,  and  is  content  to 
float  along  the  stream  of  a  mere  story, 
Meredith  is  wholly  impossible.  He  is 
too  big — too  full  of  the  mighty  comedy 
of  the  earth— too  witty.  You  migfht 
as  well  try  to  judge  of  a  mountain's 


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LITER  A  R  Y  PORTRAITS 


37 


significance  by  running  up  and  down  a 
sand  hill.  It  is  as  though  a  roysterer 
broke  into  a  cellar  of  subtle  wines,  and 
complained  bitterly  of  the  lack  of 
wholesome  taste,  kicking  the  bottles 


dal  somewhere  about  the  third  chapter 
in  **  The  Amazing  Marriage  ")  there  is 
a  story  that  would  make  the  whole  of 
an  ordinary  novel,  told  with  a  beauty 
of  phrasing  that   is  a  very  casket  of 


GEORGE    MEREDITH 
FROM  THE   PAINTING  BY   WATTS 


about  because  they  do  not  hold  throat- 
clutching  gin. 

And  what  a  wealth  of  good  things 
is  his !  Meredith  puts  more  of  life 
»nto  a  phrase  than  many  a  man  into  a 
^ook.  In  his  chapter  that  tells  of  the 
^^ement  of  the  Countess  (I  think 
Dame  Gossip  utters  the  splendid  scan- 


gems,  uttered  in  English  that  is  like 
the  utterance  of  violins  and  deep-sound- 
ing 'cellos  set  to  music  under  the  gen- 
ius of  a  Handel.  It  is  a  chapter  that 
for  sheer  vivid  art  is  a  very  master- 
piece. The  revelation  of  the  moods  of 
the  dandified  gentleman  in  silk  and 
satin  and  wig  and  patches,  with  jew- 


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elied  sword  on  hip,  who  accompany  the 
carriage  along  the  snow-carpeted  roads, 
having  money  on  this  business  of  the 
Countess  coming  home  from  the  ball 
in  her  coach,  or  her  not  so  coming,  yet 
strutting  it  with  emotions  hidden  un- 
der light  jest  and  quip,  is  a  work  of 
pure  genius.  It  is  a  chapter  that  for 
downright  romance  puts  the  whole  ac- 
complishment of  a  Stevenson  into  the 
second  place.  There  is  nothing  quite 
like  it  in  English  prose. 

Yet  it  is  a  pity,  as  with  that  other 
mighty  master  of  English  prose, 
Thomas  Carlyle,  that  a  too  subtle 
statement,  even  of  subtle  ideas,  should 
bar  the  splendid  wisdom  and  the  prodi- 
gal wealth  of  this  great  soul  from  the 
eyes  of  the  ordinary  man.  The  appeal 
of  all  great  art  must  be  to  a  wide  pub- 
lic. Meredith's  subtlety  of  phrase 
stands,  a  fantastic  fello^y,  rapier  in 
hand,  barring  the  way,  at  first  sight, 
for  all  but  the  wits;  yet  the  man  who 
will  beard  the  whimsical  sentry  will 
find  him  a  laughing  fellow  who  will  let 
him  pass  on  giving  the  countersign  of 
intelligence,  who  will  let  him  enter  into 
a  garden  that  will  make  glad  the  healthy 
heart  of  any  clean-souled  human  being. 

Young  manhood  and  young  wo- 
manhood— the  splendid  imperial  age 
of    healthy    inquisitiveness,    the    age 


of  the  strong  heart  and  the  forward- 
looking  eyes,  the  age  that  seeks 
passionately,  eagerly,  at  the  threshold 
of  life,  for  the  meaning  of  life 
— these  stretch  out  eager  hands  to 
know  what  to  hold,  what  to  let  go. 
Give  to  such  the  large  soul  of  George 
Meredith  to  feed  upon.  His  books  are 
the  gift  for  the  Coming  of  Age,  He 
will  hold  up  no  ruffling,  vulgar  music- 
hall  hero  for  a  youth  to  build  himself 
upon,  nor  a  dandified  academic  prig 
for  idol,  but  a  Man — a  fellow  with 
eyes  that  guard  a  woman,  and  with 
feet  that  do  not  fear  to  walk  among 
the  adventures  of  life. 

Tender  as  a  woman,  strong  as  a 
soldier,  lofty  as  God's  aristocracy, 
keen-eyed  as  a  man  who  calmly  steps 
amongst  long  odds  and  fights  for  his 
life,  clear  in  hope  and  ambition  for  his 
race,  loving  the  very  bunglers  whom 
he  whips,  the  soul  of  this  man  is  a 
lamp  to  youth.  The  deeps  of  philos- 
ophy are  under  his  laughing  comedy. 
From  the  habits  of  chivalrous  men  of 
war  to  the  tattle  of  the  ladies'  maids, 
you  may  see  his  deep  insight  into  the 
human  drama.  And  in  the  prose  of 
George  Meredith  you  may  read  of  life 
in  the  words  of  a  well-bred  scholar, 
and  hear  of  it  in  the  accents  of  a  clean- 
souled  English  gentleman. 


WITH  LIFE 

BY   THEODORE    ROBERTS 

DEAR,  we  must  up  and  out.     Life  will  not  wait 
Like  village  beau  beside  a  garden  gate. 

Dear,  the  world  calls;  and  Love,  who  knows  the  way. 
Bids  us  join  hands  before  the  fuller  day. 

Together,  Dear,  from  morning  on  to  noon 
How  bravely  Life  will  pipe  his  gladdest  tune! 

Together,  Dear,  from  noon  till  creeping  night 
How  kindly  Life  will  lift  his  surest  light! 

Dear,  we  must  up  and  out;  and  hand  in  hand 
Try  the  glad  vintage  of  the  farthest  land. 

The  world  is  wide.  Dear  Heart.     The  seas  are  wide, 
And  rare,  new  things  go  by  from  tide  to  tide; 

And  Life  calls  to  us — morning-crowned,  elate;  • 

He'll  bide  no  longer  at  your  garden  gate.  ^  j 

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N    seeing    * 'Everyman"    in  . 
Chlckering   Hall  last   sea- 
son,   the   writer  was  con- 
scious of  two  distinct  sen- 
sations which  wound  them- 
selves in  and  out  and  round  about  the 
deep,  serious  lesson  taught  by  the  play 
— an  undeniably  admirable  lesson,    if 
somewhat  morbid  and  mediaeval:  the 
ane,  sadness  that  so  much  beauty,  youth, 
Jife,  vigour,  should  be  so  rudely  nipped 
a/most  in  the  bud;  the  other,  a  convic- 


EDITH 

WYNNE 
MATTHISON 

By 
Marjorie    R.  Johnson 


tion  that  never  was  a  play  so  admira- 
bly adapted  for  revealing  perfection  of 
forhi,  beauty  and  expressiveness  of 
face  and  melodiousness  of  voice.  All 
these  Edith  Wynne  Matthison  pos- 
sesses in  a  marked  degree,  and  her 
portrayal  of  **Everyman'*  from  the 
time  when  he  first  appears  on  the  stage 
in  all  the  beauty  and  joy  of  young  life, 
through  the  ensuing  stages  of  horror, 
appeal,  submission  to  the  inevitable 
confession,  penance  and  the  final  ^*in 
tnanus  iuas'^  at  the  tomb,  is  a  master- 


AND   MRS.    KENNEDY   AS  ADRIANA   AND   DROMIO   IN    **A   COMEDY   OF   ERRORS 
PHOTCXSRAPH   BY  MISS   HARRIET  WHITTIBR 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


MR.  AND  MRS.  KENNEDY  ON  THE  VERANDAH 
AT  MISS  WHITTIER'S  HOME 

piece  of  art,  so  realistic  as  to  seem  an 
intense,  absorbing  reality. 

It  was  my  happy  lot  to  have  a  per- 
sonal interview  with  Mrs.  Kennedy, 
and  I  found  her  the  attractive,  digni- 
fied, true  English  gentlewoman  she 
appears  on  the  stage.  There  is  a 
naturalness  about  her,  an  unaffected- 
ness,  an  absence  of  self-consciousness 
which  reveal  a  genuine  soul,  one  that 
would  be  true  in  whatever  life-work 
she  might  undertake. 

She  is  a  great  favourite  with  her 
associates  in  the  dramatic  profession. 
She  and  Miss  Dorothy  Mahomed,  the 
lady  who  is  called  **Dyscrecion'*  in  the 
play,  are  fast  friends,  the  latter  an 
ardent  admirer  of  Mrs.  Kennedy. 

We  spoke  of  Canada,  where  the 
gifted  actress  has  many  friends  in  To- 
ronto, Montreal  and  Ottawa,  her 
memories  of  all  the  friends  she  had 
made  being  very  pleasant. 

**How  splendid  it  is  that  you  and 
Mr.  Kennedy  can  be  together,"  was 
remarked. 

**Yes,"  was  the  reply;  **it  is  a  great 
comfort.  We  have  been  together  now 
for  five  years;  we  have  been  married 


six  years  and  a  half.  For  the  first 
year  and  a  half  we  were  obliged  to  go- 
different  ways,  but  since  that  we  have 
been  together  always." 

She  then  gave  the  following  pretty 
account  of  the  manner  of  their  first 
meeting. 

•*We  have  known  each  other  since 
we  were  children.  Oddly  enough,  we 
first  met  over  a  little  play  that  he  and 
my  brother  wrote,  and  in  which  I  was 
one  of  the  actors.  The  boys  were  the  vil- 
lains in  the  play.  They  not  only  wrote 
it,  but  painted  the  scenery,  put  up  the 
stage,  the  curtain,  and  everything. 
I  remember  they  painted  the  scenery  ir> 
the  cellar,  and  when  they  tried  to  bring 
it  upstairs  it  wouldn't  go — it  was  too 
large,  and  they  had  to  take  it  back  and 
put  hinges  in  it.  I  do  not  think  the 
audience  saw  the  play  through;  it  was 
so  long  that  I  think  their  patience  gave 
out  before  the  end." 

In  answer  to  questions  Mrs.  Ken> 
nedy  spoke  of  her  father's  brother, 
Arthur  Matthison,  who  in  his  day  was 
a  well-known  actor  on  both  sides  of 
the  Atlantic.  He  had  acted  with 
Booth  and  Irving.  His  death  took 
place  about  twenty  years  ago. 

**On  my  mother's  side,"  continued 
she,  **I  belong  to  a  family  of  singers. 


AN  AMATKUR  PHOTO  OF    MRS.   KENNEDY  TAKEN 
BV  MISS  DOROTHY  MAHOMFiD,  WHO  PLAY- 
ED DYSCRECION  IN  **EVEK\  MAN" 


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A  SONG 


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Edith  Wynne  was  my  mother's  sister ; 
it  is  for  her  I  am  named.  If  I  had 
been  choosing  myself  I  should  not 
have  taken  such  a  long  stage  name, 
but,  being  named  for  my  aunt  who  was 
so  well  known,  of  course  I  like  to  keep 
the  Edith  Wynne,  and  my  dear  father 
would  not  like  it  if  I  dropped  the 
Matthison." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kennedy  occupied 
a  pretty  apartment  in  **Hemenway 
Chambers,"  while  in  Boston.  The 
windows  give  on  the  Fenway,  and  the 
view  is  very  pretty.  Mrs.  Kennedy 
had  preserved  her  peep  from  the  win- 
dows in  a  photograph  which  would,  no 
doubt,  be  full  of  interest  to  the  par- 
ents in  Birmingham,  who  are  both  liv- 
ing, and  who  follow  the  career  of  their 
gifted  daughter  with  just  pride  and 
delight.  She  is  the  only  daughter, 
though  there  are  three  sons  whose 
photographs  occupied  conspicuous  po- 
sitions on  the  piano — all  fine-looking, 
wholesome  young  Englishmen. 

There  was  also  a  portrait  of  Mr. 
Kennedy's  sister,  a  beautiful  woman  in 
sumptuous  fancy  costume.  In  reply 
to  the  remark  that  she  and  her  sister- 
in-law  did  not  look  unlike,  Mrs.  Ken- 
nedy said  smilingly: 

**Mr.  Kennedy  says  that  he  can  see 
a  resemblance  between  his  sister  and 
me. 

In  the  course  of  their  Boston  en- 
gagement Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kennedy  were 
guests  for  a  week  of  the  Misses  Whit- 
tier,  of  Milton,    Mass.     The  pictures 


A   CHARACTERISTIC   POSE 

representing  Mrs.  Kennedy  as  **Ad- 
riana"  and  her  husband  as  **Dromio" 
in  the  **Comedy  of  Errors,"  were  tak- 
en by  Miss  Harriet  Whittier,  as  also 
the  little  domestic  scene  on  the  porch, 
where  the  two  are  pictured  as  they 
appear  in  everyday  life.  The  three 
* 'Everyman"  pictures  were  taken  by 
Miss  Dorothy  Mahomed,  and  none  of 
these  have  been  published  before. 


A    SONG 


BY     A.     J. 

Drip,  drip,  drip, 
And  the  raindrops  patter  on  the  pane 
One  by  one,  one  by  one. 
In  my  heart  the  music  sings. 
While  the  baby  crows  and  clings. 
For  his  Daddy's  coming  shine  or  rain 
To  his  son,  to  his  son. 


MCDOUGALL 

Crow,  crow,  crow 
For  the  light  is  fading  in  the  west. 
Night  is  near,  night  is  near, — 
And  my  heart  sings  the  refrain. 
Be  it  sunshine,  be  it  rain, — 
List,  my  darling,  lying  in  your  nest,- 
Daddy's  here!  Daddy's  here! 


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i^^>-;v^;:r.BYA.G.BRADLEY 

A   HISTORY  IN    TWELVE 
INSTALMENTS    ^     ^    ^ 


CHAPTER  V— FORMAL  DECLARATION  OF  WAR  BETWEEN  FRANCE  AND  ENG- 
LAND—MONTCALM SENT  TO  CANADA— LORD  LOUDON  TAKES  COMMAND 
OF  THE  BRITISH  FORCES— HIS  USELESS  CAMPAIGN  ON  LAKE  GEORGE- 
MONTCALM  CAPTURES  OSWEGO— 1755-1756. 


|N  spite  of  her  triumphs  both 
in  attack  and  defence,  Ca- 
nada spent  but  a  miserable 
winter.  The  exigencies  of 
war  had  sadly  interfered 
with  the  saving  of  what  at  the  best 
would  have  been  but  an  indifferent 
harvest.  Something  like  a  famine  pre- 
vailed, and  the  bakers*  shops  were  be- 
sieged by  hungry  crowds.  English 
cruisers  watched  the  mouth  of  the  St. 
Lawrence  with  exceeding  vigilance, 
and  France,  who  had  frequently  been 
compelled  to  provide  with  bread  this 
her  colony  of  agriculturists  and  hunt- 
ers on  a  virgin  soil,  found  it  no  easy 
matter  to  come  this  winter  to  her  aid. 
It  was  in  such  emergencies  as  these, 
however,  that  the  official  clique,  who 
kept  a  tight  grip  on  Canada,  waxed 
fat.  Bigot,  who  as  Intendant  had  the 
handling  of  finances  and  supplies,  was 
a  very  prince  of  Corruptionists,  though 
possessing  some  good  qualities  and 
considerable  ability.  He  had,  more- 
over, raised  from  obscurity  and  gather- 
ed around  him  a  gang  of  underlings 


who  had  even  less  breeding  and  fewer 
good  qualities  than  himself,  were  little 
behind  him  in  wits,  and  more  than 
his  equal  in  unscrupulousness.  That 
strange  medley,  the  so-called  noblesse 
of  Canada,  were  very  easily  passed  in 
the  race  for  power  by  such  adventur- 
ers. The  regimental  and  staff  officers 
from  France  represented  another  ele- 
ment who  despised  both  classes,  but 
in  such  banishment  were  inclined  to 
pocket  their  prejudices  and  take  such 
social  comfort  as  was  thrown  in  their 
way.  Out  of  this  mixed  material  a 
queer  though  lively  society  was  evolved 
at  Quebec  and  Montreal.  In  spite  of 
French  military  aristocrats,  local  titles 
of  nobility,  and  a  haughty  Church,  offi- 
cial society  seems  to  have  been  far 
more  Bohemian,  less  socially  exclusive, 
and  much  more  scandalous  than  that 
of  New  York,  Boston  or  Williams- 
burg. But  if  Canada  was  short  in 
food  and  money,  the  new  commander- 
in-chief,  Montcalm,  who  now  arrived 
with  two  fresh  battalions,  was  a  host  in 
himself,  and  had  a  staff  that  was  worthy 


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of  him.  Let  us  now,  however,  turn 
for  a  moment  to  Europe  and  see  how 
the  nations  were  grouping  themselves 
for  the  fiercest  struggle  of  the  century, 
and  also  what  manner  of  men  were 
those  who  at  this  critical  moment 
guided  the  destinies  of  England. 

These  last,  indeed,  were  but  an  in- 
different company,  and  the  state  of  the 
country  was  anything  but  hopeful. 
Pitt  was  still,  and  destined  to  be  for 
some  time  longer,  without  power. 
The  dead  weight  of  the  ridiculous 
Newcastle,  that  **hoary  jobber,"  cling- 
ing at  all  costs  to  office,  poisoned  the 
springs  of  English  action  in  every  field, 
and  Pitt's  eloquence  found  congenial 
and .  temporary  employment  in  laying 
bare  with  withering  satire  the  Pre- 
mier's contemptiblelittleness.  Through 
the  whole  of  this  winter  and  spring 
there  were  constant  alarms  of  a  French 
invasion.  **I  want,"  said  Pitt,  in  a 
flash  of  prophetic  inspiration,  **to  call 
this  country  out  of  a  condition  so 
enervated  that  twenty  thousand  men 
from  France  can  shake  it."  But  for 
the  present  he  had  to  possess  his  soul 
in  patience  and  expend  his  eloquence  on 
the  ill  conduct  of  public  affairs.  The 
fleet,  however,  was  numerous  and  well 
manned,  though  bewildered  by  enig- 
matic and  conflicting  orders  which  its 
captains  interpreted  according  to  the 
popular  spirit  rather  than  dally  over 
conundrums;  seizing  French  vessels, 
that  is  to  say,  wherever  they  could  find 
them,  and  blockading  Canada  with 
considerable  success.  The  French, 
whose  policy  was  changing,  at  this 
moment  of  all  others,  from  an  Ameri- 
can one  of  great  conceptions  to  a 
European  one  that  offered  no  prospect 
worth  mentioning,  were  in  no  hurry  to 
proclaim  war  with  England.  Their 
Government  was  anxious  to  accept, 
not  to  make,  a  declaration  of  hostil- 
ities. It  professed  horror  and  amaze- 
ment at  the  depredations  of  British 
ships  upon  French  commerce,  and  by 
way  of  emphasizing  these  protests  re- 
leased with  much  ostentation  a  British 
vessel  that  had  been  brought  as  a  prize 
into  a  French  port. 

France  had,  in  fact,  been  turned  by 


frivolous  counsellors  from  her  lofty 
transatlantic  dreams  to  a  mere  conflict 
of  passion  and  military  glory.  The 
leading  object  of  her  attack  was  now  to 
be  Frederick  of  Prussia,  against  whom 
that  European  coalition  was  forming 
which  plunged  the  continent  into  the 
horrors  of  the  Seven  Years*  War. 
What  caused  Frederick,  with  his  five 
million  subjects,  his  small  and  com- 
paratively poor  realm,  and  above  all  his 
formidable  army,  to  be  the  object  of 
such  widespread  enmity  is  sufficiently 
familiar.  He  had  insulted  two  potent 
ladies  of  indifferent  virtue,  and  robbed 
a  third  who  was  virtuous,  but  justifiably 
vengeful.  This  female  trio  represent- 
ed France,  Russia  and  Austria.  With 
respect  to  the  latter,  Maria  Theresa 
had  a  legitimate  grievance  and  much 
reason  in  her  wrath,  for  Frederick  had 
robbed  her  of  Silesia.  The  Russian 
Empress  was  stung  to  fury  by  his 
coarse  jests  at  her  somewhat  notorious 
weakness  for  Grenadiers.  As  for 
Madame  de  Pompadour,  she  had  not 
only  been  the  subject  of  the  Prussian 
king's  continuous  raillery,  but  had 
been  treated  by  him  with  personal 
contumely,  and  this  lady  governed 
both  her  royal  lover  and  France.  An 
alliance  between  these  three  great 
powers  was  preparing  throughout  the 
winter  of  1755-56  and,  with  the  ad- 
dition of  Sweden  and  Saxony,  was 
cemented  before  the  opening  of  sum- 
mer, constituting,  in  the  words  of 
Pitt,  **the  most  powerful  and  malig- 
nant confederacy  that  ever  yet  has 
threatened  the  independence  of  man- 
kind." 

But  France,  with  the  certainty  of  a 
war  with  England,  had  done  more 
than  give  up  the  substance  of  Ameri- 
can empire  for  the  shadow  of  European 
glory,  if  indeed  glory  there  could  be  in 
a  coalition  representing  ninety  million 
souls  against  a  single  province  repre- 
senting five.  For  she  was  exposing 
her  very  existence  in  the  New  World 
to  the  gravest  risk  of  complete  ex- 
tinction. To  the  French  champions  of 
the  Canadian  policy,  to  the  brave  men 
across  the  Atlantic  who  were  so  gal- 
lantly inaugurating  it,  and  who  divin- 


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ed,  or  thought  cney  divined,  a  dazzling 
future,  this  turn  of  the  political 
weathercock  must  have  been  bitter 
indeed;  and  the  more  so,  seeing  the 
comparative  weakness  which  distin- 
guished at  this  moment  their  great 
rival.  That  rival's  fleet  was  strong, 
but  her  councils  and  her  generals  ap- 
peared to  be  contemptible,  and  her 
army  had  been  let  down  to  twenty 
thousand  men.  Nor  could  they,  nor 
any  one,  know  that  England  was  in 
labour  of  a  leader  who  was  to  shake 
the  world  to  its  uttermost  limits. 

Let  us  suppose  there  had  been  no 
Pompadour,  and  that  a  wholesome 
monarch,  such  as  indeed  was  Louis 
XV  himself  in  earlier  life,  aided  by 
clear-sighted  ministers,  had  been  rul- 
ing France.  Can  there  be  a  moment's 
doubt  but  that  she  would  have  turned 
to  face  with  her  whole  strengfth  her 
only  real  rival?  If  then  she  had  lav- 
ished one-half — nay,  one-quarter — of 
the  blood  and  treasure  in  America  that 
was  idly  squandered  on  European  bat- 
tlefields, who  dare  say  in  what  colours 
the  map  ot  North  America  would  now 
be  painted  ?  The  mastery  of  the  seas 
it  is  possible  no  effort  on  the  part  of 
France  could  have  won,  but  with  en- 
ergy she  could  certainly  have  become 
strong  enough  to  prevent  anything 
like  an  effective  blockade  of  so  vast  a 
line,  and  could  have  poured  troops  and 
supplies  into  Quebec,  Louisbourg,  or 
New  Orleans  in  sufficient  abundance 
for  every  practical  purpose.  Let  us  be 
permitted,  too,  to  conceive  our  neigh- 
bours drawing  an  object-lesson  from 
the  prosperity  of  the  British  colonies 
which  stared  them  in  the  face,  and 
abandoning  that  religious  bigotry 
which  so  hampered  their  own  expan- 
sion. Let  us  suppose  that  France  had 
chosen  to  do  what  some  of  her  best 
Catholic  soldiers  had  so  often  urged — 
ceased,  that  is  to  say,  from  treating 
her  Huguenots  as  ravening  wolves, 
and  hounding  them  from  all  her  bord- 
ers to  become  a  strength  and  comfort 
to  her  rivals,  and  given  them  instead 


the  toleration  under  their  own  flag  that 
they  had  to  seek  for  under  others. 
Can  there  be  any  doubt  that,  in  such 
an  event,  thousands  of  the  most  virile 
people  in  France  would  have  sought 
the  shores  of  French  America,  and 
would  have  aided  and  secured  that  ex- 
pansion of  dominion  which  was  the  one 
worthy  dream  of  an  ignoble  epoch?  A 
wise  policy,  too,  could  have  beyond  a 
doubt  attracted  to  New  France,  and 
most  certainly  to  an  occupied  Ohio 
Valley,  those  Catholics  of  other  nation- 
alities who,  while  they  found  bare  tol- 
eration at  the  best  in  the  British  colo- 
nies, would  have  preferred  a  region 
where  their  creed  was  greeted  with  a 
warmer  welcome. 

But  these  are  idle,  if  interesting, 
speculations.  Destiny  decreed  other- 
wise,  and  it  is  not  for  Britons  at  any 
rate  to  quarrel  with  her  scheme. 
France  spurned  the  great  opportunity 
of  her  national  life,  and,  with  a  folly 
that  to  us  now  seems  little  short  of 
madness,  lavished  her  resources  in  at- 
tempting to  dismember  a  small  coun- 
try  whose  defeat  would  merely  serve  to 
strengthen  her  already  powerful  allies. 

The  Pompadour,  however,  must  by 
no  means  get  the  whole  of  the  blame; 
for  the  French  noblesse^  who  now 
swarmed  like  locusts  about  the  Court 
and  in  the  army,  would  probably  have 
shown  but  slight  enthusiasm  for  the 
rigours  and  inglorious  hardships  of  an 
American  campaign.  They  were  ready 
at  all  times  to  fight  and  to  die,  but 
this  was  a  generation  to  whom  fine 
clothes,  fine  living,  and  an  artificial 
atmosphere  were  necessaries  second 
only  to  their  honour.  If  fight  they  must, 
they  would  have  much  preferred  to  die 
gloriously  after  a  supper  of  champagne 
and  truffles,  and  perhaps  under  the 
very  eyes  of  their  mistresses,  in  the 
trenches  of  a  Flemish  town,  rather 
than  perish,  and  their  deeds  with  them, 
in  the  trackless  forests  of  America. 

So  Canada  was  from  henceforth  left 
in  a  great  measure  to  its  own  resour- 
ces, and  to  such  support  as  had  been 
already  sent  there.     The  general  war 


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MADAME    DE    HOMPADOLR 

"This  lady  g^overned  both  her  Royal  lover  and  France' 

FROM    THE    PAINTING    BY    BOUCHER 


in  Europe  did  not  break  out  till  August, 
but  in  the  spring  France,  turning  from 
all  thoughts  of  a  descent  on  England, 
made  a  swoop  upon  Minorca,  which 
for  forty  years  had  been  a  valued  pos- 
session of  the  British.  The  stubborn 
defence  of  Blakeney  with  under  3,000 


men  against  an  immensely  superior 
French  force  is  not  so  familiar  as  the 
failure  of  Admiral  Byng  with  the  Eng- 
lish fleet  to  relieve  that  gallant  officer, 
and  the  story  of  his  subsequent  execu- 
tion. The  merits  of  this  do  not  con- 
cern  us  here,  but   after  such   glaring 


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hostilities,  not  in  the  backwoods  of 
America,  but  in  the  full  sig^ht  of  Eu- 
rope, the  farce  of  peace  could  no  longer 
in  decency  be  maintained,  and  war 
was  formally  declared  ag-ainst  France 
upon  May  the  eighteenth,  1756. 

With  all  her  ill-advised  change  of 
policy,  France  had  not  wholly  neglect- 
ed Canada.  She  had  sent  there  one 
of  her  very  best  soldiers,  who  was  to 
cover  himself  with  glory  before  he  per- 
ished in  her  ruin.  For  at  the  very 
moment  when  England  declared  war, 
Montcalm,  with  1,200  men  of  the  ad- 
mirable regiments  of  La  Sarre  and 
Royal  Rousillon,  was  slowly  pushing 
his  way  up  towards  Quebec,  through 
the  drifting  ice-floes  of  the  St.  Law- 
rence. 

Louis  Joseph,  Marquis  de  Montcalm- 
Gozon  de  Saint- V6ran,  was  a  native  of 
the  South  of  France,  and  proprietor  of 
the  hereditary  but  much-encumbered 
estate  of  Candiac,  near  Nimes.  He 
was  now  in  his  forty-fifth  year.  He 
had  seen  much  service  on  European 
fields,  had  been  twice  severely  wound- 
ed, and  had  distinguished  himself 
much  oftener.  He  was  the  best  type 
of  a  French  gentleman  of  the  eight- 
eenth century,  and  a  type  none  too 
common  at  this  particular  epoch.  Un- 
like most  of  his  kind,  when  off  duty, 
he  was  able  to  bear  a  rural  life  with 
something  more  than  equanimity.  He 
could  exist  contentedly  outside  the 
meretricious  sunshine  of  Versailles, 
and  was  never  indeed  so  happy  as 
when  settled  at  Candiac  in  the  midst 
of  his  family,  for  both  of  which  he 
cherished  a  most  ardent  affection. 

In  his  soldierly  way  he  was  both 
cultured  and  religious;  above  all,  he 
was  brave,  honest  and  patriotic.  For 
such  a  man  there  was  certainly  not 
much  profit  to  be  looked  for  in  a  Ca- 
nadian command — a  matter  to  which 
Montcalm  with  ten  children  and  an  en- 
cumbered estate  could  not  be  indiffer- 
ent. With  equal  certainty  there  was 
much  hardship  in  prospect,  and  no 
great  likelihood  of  a  successful  termin- 
ation to  the  struggle.  Montcalm's 
private    letters,   cheery    though    they 


are,  show  how  little  he  appreciated 
his  long  banishment  from  home  and 
friends  and  country,  and  indicate  pretty 
plainly  how  patriotic  were  his  motives 
and  how  admirable  his  principles. 
With  him  went  De  Levis  and  De  Bour- 
lamaque  as  second  and  third  in  com- 
mand, both  excellent  soldiers;  while 
his  aide-de-camp  was  Bougainville,  the 
diarist  of  these  campaigns,  and  the 
famous  traveller  of  later  years. 

The  Governor  of  Canada  in  the 
meantime,  with  all  the  typical  vanity 
of  that  Canadian  nationality  he  so 
greatly  affected,  would  gladly  have 
dispensed  with  professional  assistance 
and  himself  conducted  the  military  as 
well  as  the  civil  affairs  of  the  colony. 
De  Vaudreuil's  hints  to  the  home 
Government,  however,  as  to  the  ad- 
vantages of  such  an  arrangement  were 
thrown  away,  and  he  had  to  put  the 
best  face  he  could  on  the  situation, 
which,  to  judge  by  Montcalm's  letters, 
who  as  yet  knew  nothing  of  these 
heart-burnings,  was  a  very  good  one. 
The  general,  to  be  sure,  was  nominally 
under  the  Governor's  orders;  but  it  is 
not  difficult  to  estimate  what  force 
these  would  have  in  the  stress  of  a 
fight  for  existence.  A  civilian,  it  will 
be  remembered,  was  also  in  command 
of  the  British  American  forces  at  this 
moment.  But  there,  on  the  contrary, 
it  was  by  no  means  certain  the  coming 
change  was  for  the  better.  Shirley 
was  not  a  heaven-born  general,  but 
there  were  many  people  of  good  judg- 
ment who  thought  that  he  was  at  any 
rate  better  than  his  immediate  success- 
ors. He  had  sense,  energy,  and  some 
gift  for  procuring  and  adopting  the 
best  advice;  he  also  knew  the  country 
and  the  people.  His  recent  failure 
against  Niagara  was  entirely  venial; 
but  he  was  loudly  blamed  later  on  for 
not  having  properly  victualled  the  gar- 
rison he  had  left  to  winter  at  Oswego. 
The  omission  had  caused  great  sick- 
ness and  suffering.  The  sentries,  so 
credible  witnesses  declared,  were  so 
weak  from  want  of  food  that  they  had 
to  go  on  duty  with  a  stick  to  keep 
themselves  from  falling,  while  the  mor- 
tality was  considerable.     The  rumours 


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of  Shirley's  supercession  which  were 
rife  throughout  the  winter,  were  offi- 
cially confirmed  in  February.  He  put 
aside,  however,  the  mortification  which 
vexed  his  soul  most  deeply,  and  work- 
ed with  zeal  and  honesty  in  prepara- 
tions for  the  coming  season. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  remark  that 
campaigning  on  any  serious  scale  was 
out  of  the  question  in  the  Northern 
colonies  till  the  woods  and  lakes  had 
been  loosed  from  their  wintry  burden  by 
the  warm  winds  of  April,  and  wholly 
freed  from  it  by  the  suns  of  May. 
Even  armies  in  Europe  at  that  day 
went  into  winter  quarters,  and  sus- 
pended operations  by  a  sort  of  unwrit- 
ten agreement,  as  if  war  were  in  truth 
a  game  to  be  played  under  convention- 
al rules.  But  the  colonial  forces,  after 
leaving  slender  garrisons  in  a  few 
isolated  snow-bound  outposts,  not  only 
went  into  winter  quarters,  but  to  their 
homes — each  man  to  his  farm,  his 
office,  or  his  shop.  He  ceased  to  be  a 
soldier,  and  it  rested  entirely  with  him- 
self whether  he  ever  would  be  again. 
With  the  exception  of  a  few  perma- 
nent companies,  the  colonies  had  every 
year  to  form  practically  a  fresh  army, 
and  that  under  difficulties  which  were 
very  great,  though  in  part  of  their  own 
making.  That  troops  would  be  re- 
quired, and  in  greater  numbers  than 
ever  before,  for  the  -season  of  1756, 
was  now  very  evident.  New  England, 
the  chief  source  of  supply,  had  been 
much  discouraged,  partly  by  the  mili- 
tary failures  of  the  preceding  year  and 
partly  by  the  large  debt  its  outlay  had 
accumulated.  Though  full  of  zeal  in 
her  stolid,  undemonstrative  fashion,  it 
was  with  profound  satisfaation  that,  as 
an  eminently  business-like  people,  she 
heard  of  the  substantial  sum  of  £^i  15,- 
000  voted  her  by  the  British  Parlia- 
ment for  past  expenses,  and,  greatly 
cheered,  girded  up  her  loins  for  a  re- 
newal of  the  contest. 

Shirley  was  in  a  strange  position. 
He  had  to  plan  the  campaigns  for  the 
coming  season  and  trust  to  their  meet- 
ing with  the  approval  of  his  success- 
ors, who  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  take 
up  their  responsibilities.     There   was 


in  truth  no  wide  field  of  choice.  The 
two  nations,  as  I  have  before 
remarked,  could  only  strike  each 
other  by  land  in  serious  fashion 
on  the  two  lines*  with  which  my 
readers  are,  I  trust,  now  familiar. 
Oswego  the  extremity  of  the  western 
route,  and  no  longer  a  mere  base  for 
an  attack  on  Niagara,  called  loudly  for 
support,  and  was,  in  fact,  in  imminent 
danger.  On  the  northern  route  the 
French  held  Crown  Point  and  Ticon- 
deroga,  being  thus  omnipotent  on 
Lake  Champlain,  while  the  British, 
forty  miles  to  the  southward,  had  their 
outposts  at  the  head  of  Lake  George. 
It  was  the  obvious  object  of  each  to 
drive  the  other  back — the  one  on 
Albany,  with  a  possibility  of  captur- 
ing it,  the  other  on  Montreal,  with 
about  the  same  prospect  of  success. 
The  French,  however,  of  the  two, 
would  be  more  strictly  on  the  defen- 
sive. Whatever  their  hopes  of  West- 
ern dominion,  they  had  no  serious 
thoughts  of  doing  more  than  tempor- 
ary damage  to  the  old  British  colo- 
nies; while  the  English,  in  view  of  their 
numerical  superiority,  could  fairly  re- 
gard the  conquest  of  Canada  as  a 
possibility.  A  second  expedition  to 
Duquesne  was,  of  course,  an  inevitable 
move,  both  to  avenge  Braddock  and 
to  destroy  the  hornets'  nest  that  was 
ravaging  the  frontiers  of  Pennsylvania 
and  Virginia.  But  without  the  help 
of  these  two  provinces  the  venture  was 
impossible;  and,  as  we  have  seen, 
they  were  scarcely  able  at  this  mo- 
ment to  protect  themselves. 

The  Earl  of  Loudon  had  been  ap- 
pointed to  succeed  Shirley,  but  he  did 
not  arrive  till  August,  and  in  the  inter- 
val General  Abercrombie,  with  Colonel 
Webb  as  second  in  command,  acted  as 
substitute.  These  two  officers  landed 
in  June,  and,  with  their  tardy  chief, 
constituted  perhaps  the  most  indiffer- 
ent trio  that  were  ever  inflicted  at  one 
blow  upon  a  British  army.  Poor  Shir- 
ley got    little  thanks    either  from   his 

*The  route  to  Fort  Duquesne,  or  the  third 
line  of  attack,  was,  of  course,  the  very  reverse 
of  a  natural  artery,  and  only  necessitated  by 
temporary  conditions. 


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successors  or  the  home  Government  for 
his  faithful  and  unquestionably  useful 
services.  He  had,  moreover,  lost  two 
sons'in  the  recent  campaigns. 

It  was  always  a  cumbersome  busi- 
ness getting-  the  New  England  troops 
into  the'field,  not  on  account  of  lack  of 


strictly  limited  the  sphere  on  which 
their  troops  were  to  act.  Their  method 
of  raising  an  army,  after  the  legislat- 
ure had  voted  the  money,  was  in  the 
first  instance  to  call  for  volunteers.  If 
this  did  not  produce  the  fully  required 
result,  the  colonels  of  militia  were  iu- 


LOUIS   JOSEPH,    MARQUIS    DE    MONTCALM-GOZON 

**He  was  the  best  type  of  a  French  g-entleman  of  the  eighteenth  century" 


zeal,  but  of  the  jealousies  which  would 
not  tolerate  any  central  system  of  or- 
ganization. Each  colony  insisted  on 
retaining  in  its  own  hands  the  trans- 
port and  maintenance  of  its  forces,  and 
each  watched  its  neighbours  narrowly, 
lest  their  burden  of  labour  and  war 
contribution  should  be  proportionately 
less  than  its  own.      Usually,  too,  they 


structed  to  muster  their  regiments, 
and  draft  out  of  them  the  number  of 
men  still  needed.  Most  brought  their 
own  firearms,  those  who  did  not  were 
supplied  with  them,  in  addition  to  hats, 
uniforms  of  blue  cloth,  knapsacks, 
powder  horns  and  canteens.  This 
year  each  man  received  a  bounty  of  six 
dollars  on  enlistment,  and,  as  a  private, 


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twenty-six  shillings  a  month  as  pay. 
In  addition  to  their  rations,  a  gill  of 
rum  was  served  out  daily;  while,  if 
they  misbehaved  themselves,  republic- 
ans in  habit  of  life  though  they  were, 
handcuffs  and  the  wooden  horse,  and 
even  the  whipping  post  were  the  man- 
ner of  their  punishment.  This  division 
of  authority  caused  much  confusion 
and  no  little  ill  temper  among  the  heads 
of  the  army.  **  I  wish  to  God,"  wrote 
Loudon  to  Winslow,  **you  could 
make  your  people  go  all  one  way;" 
while  a  poor  commissary  of  provincial 
troops  complains  that  all  the  thanks 
he  gets  for  his  endeavours  to  supply 
them  is  to  be  called  a  d— d  rascal. 

Albany  and  the  neighbouring  banks 
of  the  Hudson  formed  now,  as  ever, 
the  point  of  concentration  for  all  the 
Northern  forces,  both  those  destined 
for  Lake  George  and  those  intended 
for  Oswego.  The  first  were  to  be 
nearly  all  New  England  troops,  and 
by  slow  degrees  some  seven  thousand 
men  were  gathered  in  two  large  camps, 
or  near  them — the  one  at  Fort  William 
Henry,  on  Lake  George,  the  scene  of 
Dieskau's  repulse;  the  other  at  Fort 
Edward,  fourteen  miles  nearer  Albany, 
on  the  Hudson.  The  first  was  com- 
manded by  our  old  friend  Winslow, 
the  provincial  officer  of  Acadian  celeb- 
rity now  ranking  as  a  general;  the 
second  under  that  still  more  capable 
New  England  colonel,  Lyman,  who,  it 
may  be  remembered,  supported  John- 
son at  the  same  place  in  the  previous 
year.  Here  the  troops  waited  for  Lou- 
don, and  suffered  all  the  evils  and  dis- 
comforts inevitable  to  a  mob  of  ama- 
teur soldiers,  indifferently  provided  for 
'and  left  for  a  prolonged  period  of  com- 
parative inactivity  in  a  wilderness. 
Of  occupation  of  sorts  there  was 
enough  in  strengthening  the  fortifica- 
tions, clearing  the  forest  around  them, 
improving  the  fourteen  miles  of  road 
ow^vtYit  portage^  and  building  the  large 
fleet  of  whale-boats  and  batteaux 
which  would  be  required  for  convey- 
ing the  army  down  the  lake  to  Ticon- 
deroga. 

The  fighting  was  confined  on  both 
sides  to  small  scouting  and  scalping 


parties,  who  vied  with  each  other  in 
deeds  of  daring  and  endurance,  and 
supped  their  fill  of  the  horrors  of  Indi- 
an warfare,  and  la  petite  guerre.  The 
bulk  of  the  troops,  ignorant  of  the  first 
principles  of  camp  sanitation,  sickened 
by  thousands,  and  died  literally  by 
hundreds,  in  a  region  of  itself  notori- 
ously healthy.  Their  officers,  in  the 
absence  of  more  stirring  work,  found 
all  too  much  time  for  airing  those  jeal- 
ousies inevitable  to  an  ill-disciplined 
force  composed  of  the  soldiers  of  four 
or  five  different  governments.  The 
godly  chaplains  of  New  England,  who 
had  accompanied  their  flocks  to  the 
field,  bewailed  their  backslidings  when 
freed  from  the  eye  of  the  village  minis- 
ter and  the  village  deacon.  Their 
rousing  sermons  were  often  but  ill  at- 
tended, and  not  at  all,  they  complain, 
by  the  senior  officers,  who  drank  punch 
and  smoked  in  their  tents,  not  only 
during  the  hours  of  divine  service,  but 
actually  in  sight  of  the  open-air  con- 
gregation. The  rank  and  file,  if  they 
could  not  escape  the  preacher's  regular 
exhortations,  took  to  cursing  and 
swearing  as  kindly  as  if  they  had  been 
born  in  Wapping,  or  had  served  in 
Flanders! 

When,  in  August,  Loudon  at  length 

reached  Albany,  he  found  himself  seri- 
ously embarrassed  by  one  of  those 
amazing  blunders  to  which  British 
Governments,  in  dealing  with  colonials, 
have  in  former  days  been  so  prone,  and 
perhaps  are  not  yet  wholly  cured  of. 

A  special  order  had  come  out  from  Eng- 
land that  no  provincial  officer,  under 
any  circumstances,  should  rank  higher 
than  a  senior  captain  of  regulars.  In 
other  words,  a  British  major  of  one- 
and-twenty,  who  had  never  seen  a  shot 
fired — and  there  were  plenty  such  in 
the  army  of  that  day — would  take  pre- 
cedence in  the  field  of  a  provincial 
brigadier  or  colonel  of  veterans  like 
Winslow  and  Lyman,  for  instance;  of 
Johnson,  Bradstreet,  or  George  Wash- 
ington! The  colonial  officers  were 
ablaze  with  indignation,  as  well  they 
may    have   been.     Loudon,  who  was 


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himself  a  wooden  kind  of  man, 
and  had  certainly  no  tenderness  for 
provincials,  was  greatly  exasperated. 
There  was  no  question  of  rescinding 
the  order,  no  hope  of  compromise,  nor 
authority  to  grant  it.  The  officers  of 
New  England  regiments  threatened  to 
go  home  in  a  body.  Loudon  appealed 
to  Winsiow,  who  was  a  broad-minded, 
sensible  man,  to  use  his  influence,  and 
he  brought  his  people  to  see  that  there 
was  nothing  for  it  at  present  but  to 
swallow  the  uncalled-for  and  ill-timed 
slight.  Fortunately,  no  movements  of 
importance  took  place  to  test  the 
strain;  but  the  sore  rankled.  British 
officers  of  that  day  were  only  too  prone, 
by  their  supercilious  attitude,  to  wound 
the  susceptibilities  of  their  colonial 
brothers  in  arms.  It  is,  of  course, 
only  the  old  story  of  the  professional 
and  the  volunteer  added  to  that  of  the 
Briton  and  the  colonial,  which  no  one 
who  has  lived  in  British  colonies  would 
require  to  have  elaborated.  This  sore 
feeling  was  a  conspicuous  feature  of 
the  war.  It  is  well  known  to  have 
been  one  of  the  irritants  that  prepared 
the  soil  for  the  Revolution.  One  would 
be  inclined  to  think  that  it  was  peculi- 
arly an  English  failing;  but,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  something  very  like  it  pre- 
vailed in  Montcalm's  army.  But  this 
special  order  was  another  thing  alto- 
gether. It  was  not  a  mere  question  of 
tact  or  manners,  but  a  blunder  of  the 
worst  kind. 

It  was  issued  at  a  critical  moment 
in  face  of  the  enemy,  and  would  have 
delayed,  if  not  hampered,  Loudon's  at- 
tack; but  Loudon  would  in  no  case 
probably  have  now  attacked.  Nearly 
six  thousand  French  were  at  Ticonder- 
oga,  at  the  near  end  of  Lake  Cham- 
plain,  strongly  entrenched.  Twice  their 
number  could  not  have  moved  them, 
and  Loudon,  though  by  the  close  of 
summer  he  had  10,000  men  under  his 
command,  including  the  sick  and  the 
35th  regiment  (Otway's),  which  had 
just  come  out,  900  strong,  considered 
that  the  effort  was  hopeless.  Rumours 
of  a  French  attack  from  time  to 
time  came  drifting  up  the  long,  narrow 
waters  of  Lake  George;  but  the  French 


strong  for  defence,  could  no  more  at- 
tack Loudon  than  he  could  attack 
them.  Thus  the  summer  passed  away 
in  costly  inactivity,  and  when  the  ice 
spread  once  more  over  lake  and  stream, 
when  the  green  mountains  of  Vermont 
were  no  longer  green,  and  the  Adiron- 
dacks  showed  a  snowy  carpet  beneath 
their  naked  woodlands,  French  and 
English  were  both  more  firmly  lodged 
than  in  the  previous  year,  but  neither 
were  one  whit  more  forward. 

Loudon  was  a  melancholy  and  iras- 
cible man.  He  was  in  no  sense  fitted 
for  his  position,  but  he  can  hardly  be 
held  responsible  for  the  barrenness  of 
the  season's  campaigns  on  Lake 
George,  unless,  indeed,  his  late  arrival 
in  America  may  be  held  against  him. 
He  would  have  enough  to  answer  for 
in  the  following  year,  though  his 
blunders,  unlike  those  of  his  brother 
generals,  were  to  be  those  rather  of 
omission  than  of  misguided  action. 

.  In  the  early  part  of  this  year  a  royal 
commission  had  been  sent  out  to  Sir 
William  Johnson,  appointing  him  col- 
onel, and  sole  superintendent  of  the 
Six  Nation  Indians  and  responsible  to 
the  Crown  alone.  Colonial  dealings 
with  these  Indians,  chiefly  carried  on 
by  the  Dutch  traders  of  Albany  and 
New  York,  had  worked  incalculable 
mischief.  The  French  were  striving 
more  vigorously  than  ever,  by  bribes 
and  threats,  to  win  over  the  Six 
Nations,  and  the  latter,  growing  more 
disheartened  as  English  prestige  de- 
clined, were  now  in  a  dangerous  state 
of  hesitation.  Matters  were  indeed  so 
serious  that  Johnson  made  a  perilous 
journey  through  forests,  alive  with 
French  and  Indian  freebooters,  to  the 
Six  Nation  capital  at  Onondaga,  and 
after  a  fortnight  of  that  sensational 
diplomacy  he  understood  so  well,  he 
had  secured,  at  any  rate,  their  neutral- 
ity. He  raised  his  voice,  too,  further 
afield,  and  tried  to  stem  the  raiding 
hordes  of  Delawares  and  Shewanoes, 
who  were  still  desolating  the  frontiers 
of  the  middle  colonies.  Some  of  these 
actually  came  at  his  summons  all  the 


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way  to  Fort  Johnson,  where,  amid 
great  ceremonies,  much  din  of  war- 
cries  and  riotous  dancing,  and  floods  of 
rum,  he  exacted  promises  from  them 
which  possibly  a  few  kept.  But 
these  nations,  save  those  small,  broken 
bands  which  had  already  joined  the 
French,  were  secured  to  neutrality, 
and  this,  from  their  midway  situation 
between  the  rival  armies,  was  a  point 
of  immeasurable  importance. 

While  noth- 
ing of  mo- 
ment   was   a- 


chieved  this 
season  by 
either  side  at 
the  principal 
seat  of  war,  a 
disaster  befell 
the  British 
arms  to  the 
westward,  as 
great  as  that 
of  Braddock's 
defeat  in  the 
preceding 
year.  This  was 
the  fall  and  de- 
struction of 


O  s  w  e 


go 


whose  garris- 
on has  been  al- 
ready alluded 
to  as  weak  in 
numbers  and 
half    starved. 

The  route  thither  from  Albany  was 
guarded  at  certain  spots  by  rude  forts. 
One  of  these  had  been  attacked  and 
destroyed  by  a  flying  column  of  French 
and  Indians  in  the  dead  of  winter. 
Shirley,  conscious  of  Oswego's  weak- 
ness, but  short  of  troops,  had  in  the 
early  spring  struck  out  a  new  depar- 
ture and  engaged  two  thousand  boat- 
men and  whaling  hands  from  the 
coast,  to  carry  supplies  to  the  Ontario 
fort,  arming  them  with  guns  and  toma- 
hawks.    Bradstreet,    another  colonial 


-  BOUGAINVILLE 

Montcalm's  Aide-de-camp. 

FROM  BONITBCHOflK's  MONTCALM,  5TH  BIMTION 


colonel  of  sense,  zeal  and  daring,  and 
some  military  experience,  was  placed 
in  command.  The  outward  journey, 
up  the  Mohawk  and  its  feeders,  with  a 
portage  across  the  watershed,  and 
thence  down  into  Oneida  Lake  and  the 
Oswego  River,  was  achieved  without 
opposition.  On  the  return  journey, 
however,  Bradstreet,  whose  force  was 
in  three  divisions,  was  stoutly  attacked 
about  nine  miles  up  from  Oswego  by 
seven  hundred 
of  the  enemy. 
After  a  smart 
encounter  in 
and  around 
the  bed  of  the 
Oswego  Riv- 
er, his  boat- 
men drove  the 
French  back, 
with  a  loss  of 
about  fifty  on 
either  side. 
This,however, 
was  but  an  in- 
cident barren 
of  any  results 
but  the  actual 
lives  lost.  The 
French  had 
intended  to 
strike  Brad- 
street  laden 
with  supplies 
on  the  way 
up;  but he had 
been  too  quick 
for  them;  in- 
deed, this 
officer  had  an 
excellent  hab- 
it of  being  too  nimble,  both  in  at- 
tack and  defence,  even  for  his  nimble 
foe.  There  were  few  of  his  compatri- 
ots, British  or  colonial,  at  this  time  of 
whom  such  could  be  said. 

Almost  before  he  was  missed,  Mont- 
calm had  slipped  away  from  Ticonder- 
oga  and  arrived  with  a  powerful  force 
in  front  of  the  dismayed  invalids  and 
feeble,  ill-protected  garrison  of  Os- 
wego. De  Vaudreuil  and  Montcalm 
did  not  often  agree  in  a  plan  of  cam- 
paign; but  they  were  in  full  accord  as 


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to  this  one.  De  Villiers,  who  had  led 
the  attack  on  Bradstreet,  was  still 
within  reach,  so  was  Rigaud,  the  Gov- 
ernor's brother,  who  had  gone  west- 
ward with  more  men.  It  was  early  in 
August  when  Montcalm,  leaving  De 
Levis  in  command  at  Ticonderoga, 
started  at  full  speed  for  Fort  Fronte- 
nac,  reaching  there  in  a  week.  Fron- 
tenac  lay  just  across  the  lake  from  Os- 
wego, and  about  sixty  miles  distant. 
The  regiments  of  La  Sarre  andGuienne 
had  in  the  meantime  been  forwarded 
there  from  Montreal,  and  that  of 
Bdarn  fetched  up  from  Niagara.  Be- 
sides these,  Montcalm  had  with  him 
Canadians,  colony  regulars,  and  Indi- 
ans, amounting  in  all  to  about  three 
thousand  men,  with  a  strong  train  of 
artillery,  including  some  of  Braddock*s 
captured  guns.  Oswego,  a  consider- 
able trading-station,  with  houses,  stor- 
ing sheds  and  forts,  a  mere  gash  in  the 
interminable  forests  that  in  those  days 
brooded  over  the  now  populous  and 
busy  shores  of  Lake  Ontario,  was  en- 
tirely unconscious  of  its  impending 
fate.  It  possessed  two  very  inferior 
forts  standing  upon  either  side  of  the 
mouth  of  the  Oswego  River,  and  a 
third  one  behind,  which  is  decribed  as 
merely  an  improved  cattle  pen,  de- 
risively christened  as  '<Fort  Rascal." 
None  of  them,  however,  were  fit  to 
stand  cannon  shot.  Mackellar,  the 
chief  British  engineer  in  America,  had 
condemned  the  place  entirely.  Why 
nothing  had  been  done  to  strengthen 
4t  is  not  explained. 

Colonel  Mercer,  an  excellent  and 
brave  officer,  had  been  left,  it  will  be 
.remembered,  in  command,  and  had 
with  him  about  a  thousand  soldiers  of 
rsorts  and  eight  small  guns.  There 
<were  also  some  six  hundred  non-com- 
batants, including  a  hundred  and 
twenty  women  and  children.  The  sol- 
diers were  chiefly  of  Pepperell's  regi- 
ment (51st)  and  New  Jersey  militia, 
and  were  in  great  part  recruits  or  in- 
valids. Montcalm  crossed  the  extreme 
eastern  end  of  Lake  Ontario  on  the 
nights  of  the  fourth  and  fifth,  by  divi- 
sions. On  the  eighth  all  his  force 
was  collected  on  the  southern  shore. 


Thence  it  took  them  about  thirty  hours, 
part  of  the  army  marching  through 
the  woods,  part  skirting  the  shore  in 
batteaux,  to  reach  a  point  within  a 
mile  of  Oswego.  It  was  not  till  the 
French  were  all  gathered  here  on  the 
shore,  with  guns  ready  for  action,  that 
the  garrison  knew  any  movement  was 
impending,  so  bad  was  their  scouting. 
Montcalm's  chief  engineer  went  for- 
ward to  report,  accompanied  by  clouds 
of  Canadian  and  Indian  sharpshooters, 
who  accidentally  shot  him,  though  not 
till  he  had  pronounced  the  forts  to  be 
untenable.  Montcalm  then  set  about 
cutting  his  entrenchments,  knowing 
full  well  that  he  had  the  place  in  the 
hollow  of  his  hand.  The  garrison 
fired  their  light  guns  at  his  working 
parties,  but  with  little  effect.  The 
French  were  upon  the  east  bank  of  the 
river,  and  Fort  Ontario,  which  pro- 
tected that  side,  was  laid  out  in  the 
shape  of  a  star,  and  built  of  tree* trunks 
flattened  on  both  sides  and  placed  up- 
right in  the  ground — an  excellent  de- 
fence against  musketry,  but  none  what- 
ever against  cannon.  Three  hundred 
and  seventy  men  of  Pepperell's  regi- 
ment were  inside  it,  but  Mercer,  who 
was  in  the  fort  west  of  the  river,  sig- 
nalled to  them  to  evacuate  it  and  cross 
to  his  side.  This  move  was  effected 
without  interruption.  In  the  night 
Montcalm  had  thirty  guns  mounted  on 
the  river  bank  within  five  hundred 
yards  of  Mercer's  fort.  This  was  only 
protected  against  the  south  and  west, 
the  river  side  being  entirely  open. 
The  gap  was  filled  by  pork-barrels  for 
want  of  something  better,  and  Mer- 
cer, thus  equipped,  prepared  for  the 
attack  by  opening  the  hottest  fire  he 
was  capable  of  upon  the  French.  Some 
execution  was  done;  but  when  the 
heavy  cannon  of  the  enemy,  hurling 
grape  and  round  shot  through  the 
flimsy  defences,  got  seriously  to  work, 
the  hopelessness  of  the  defence  be- 
came very  evident,  though  Mercer  be- 
haved with  great  bravery.  Montcalm 
now  decided  to  attack  the  further  side 
of  the  station,  which  was  weakly  in- 
trenched, with  infantry.  There  was  a 
ford  over  the  Oswego  River  two  miles 


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55 


up,  and  a  large  force  of  Canadiaas 
and  Indians  crossed  it  and  swarmed 
around  the  ramparts,  pouring  in  a 
heavy  fire  from  the  shelter  of  the 
woods.  Mercer  was  at  this  moment 
killed  by  a  round  shot,  and  with  his 
fall  the  heart  went  out  of  the  garrison. 
Their  case  was  indeed  hopeless;  the 
non-combatants  clamoured  loudly  for 
surrender,  and  the  slirieks  of  the  ter- 
rified wo- 
men as  the 
grape - shot 
from  Mont- 
calm'sguns 
shivered 
the  wooden 


tion,  pork,  flour,  spirits,  silver,  and 
;^i8,ooo  in  cash.  Five  standards  were 
captured  and  hung  as  trophies  upon 
the  walls  of  Montreal  Cathedral.  The 
usual  difficulty  was  experienced  in  re- 
straining the  Indians  from  taking  what 
seemed  to  them  their  natural  toll  of 
blood,  plunder  and  scalps — above  all, 
when  liquor  was  plentiful,  as  it  was 
on  this  occasion.  A  bloody  scene  at 
one  time  threat- 
eoedi  and  all 
Montcalm's  ef- 
forts united  to 
those  of  his 
French  officers 
were  needed  to 
prevent  it.   The 


ed  the  de 
mand.  The 
frightful 
yells  of  the 
I  ndians, 
too,outside 
the  walls 
was  signifi- 
cant of  the 
ghastly 
terrors  of 
an  assault. 
Acouncil  of 
war  was 
called,  and 
it  was  de- 
cid  ed  to 
capitulate. 
Th  e  sur- 
render was 
practically 
uncondi- 
tional. One 
thousand 
six  hundred 
and  forty 
prisoners 

were  taken  in  all,  most  of  whom  were 
forwarded  to  Canada.  Six  vessels  carry- 
ing fifty-two  guns  fell  into  Montcalm's 
hands,  with  two  hundred  barges,  a 
hundred  and  thirteen  cannon  and  mor- 
tars, with  large  supplies  of  ammuni- 


MAP  OF  OSWEGO 

Montcalm  landed  on  the  east  side  of  the 
river,  about  a  mile  from  the  Forts,  and  marched 
through  the  woods.  The  British  abandoned 
Fort  Ontario  without  a  struggle.  Montcalm 
then  attacked  the  other  Forts  and  soon  reduced 
them.     He  captured  1,640  prisoners. 


Canadiaas,  of  alt 
rankSf  were  neutrals 
on  this  subject  They 
well  knew  the  risk  of 
losing  their  allies  if 
they  thwarted  them 
in  the  matter,  and  had 
themselves  grown 
callous  to  its  horrors, 
regarding  the  mur- 
dering, scalping  and 
torturingof  prisoners 
at  the  hands  of  the  savages  with  consid- 
erable equanimity.  There  is  some  lit- 
tle discrepancy  in  the  accounts  of  what 
happened  at  the  fall  of  Oswego.  It 
seems  probable,  however,  that  only 
prisoners  who  tried  to  escape  through 


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the  woods  were  tomahawked — a  fate 
which  they  courted  with  their  eyes 
open.  Montcalm,  however,  reports 
that  it  cost  him  a  good  deal  of  money 
to  redeem  prisoners  from  the  Indians. 
The  casualties  on  either  side  in  the 
siege  were  inconsiderable;  but  the  loss 
of  a  station  so  vital  to  the  British  was 
extremely  serious. 

Montcalm  now  took  steps  to  wipe 
Oswego  off  the  face  of  the  earth.  He. 
destroyed  all  the  vessels  and  stores  he 
could  not  carry  away,  and  levelled  the 
buildings  and  fortifications  with  the 
ground.  Among  the  ruins  and  ashes 
his  senior  priest,  Piquet,  planted  a  tall 
cross  bearing  the  inscription,  In  hoc 
signo  vincunt.  From  a  pole  near  by 
were  hung  the  arms  of  France,  engrav- 
en with  the  words  Manibus  dat  lilia 
plenis.  The  spot  was  then  abandoned 
to  the  wolves,  and  Montcalm,  with  his 
army,  his  prisoners,  and  his  booty, 
sailed  away  eastward. 

Webb  had  all  this  time  been  toiling 
up  the  Mohawk  from  Albany,  and  was 
rather  more  than  half-way  through 
when  the  news  reached  him  that  Os- 
wego had  fallen.  As  he  appears  to 
have  only  had  with  him  that  remnant 
of  the  44th  regiment  which  had  sur- 
vived Braddock's  defeat  of  the  previous 
year,  it  is  perhaps  just  as  well  that  he 
did  not  make  a  present  of  another 
three  or  four  hundred  prisoners  to 
Montcalm.  It  was'  hardly  Webb's 
fault  that  his  support  was  so  tardy  as 
well  as  weak,  but  when  scouts  brought 
him  news  of  the  capitulation,  he  justi- 
fied in  his  person  and  by  his  action  the 
soreness  that  was  felt  at  the  wholesale 
snubbing  of  provincial  officers.  Fresh 
rumours  asserted  that  Montcalm  was 
coming  down  the  western  route  to  Al- 
bany with  six  thousand  men.  Webb 
was  panic-stricken.  He  did  not  pause 
to  ascertain  whether  the  rumours  were 
true  or  whether  Montcalm  could  get 
such  a  force  through  such  a  route;  but 
he  acted  as  if  the  whole  French  army 
were  upon  him.  He  burnt  two  forts 
that  had  lately  been  erected  at  consid- 


erable trouble,  and  he  filled  the  channel 
of  Wood  Ceeek*  with  fallen  timber,  of 
which  it  had  recently  and  at  great 
labour  been-  cleared  for  purposes  of 
navigation.  He  then  hurried  back  to 
the  German  flats  upon  the  Mohawk, 
and  sat  down  to  realize  in  due  course 
that  his  performance  was  one  that  no 
militia  subaltern  of  average  wits  would 
have  committed.  It  was  a  conspicuous 
instance  of  the  fatal  errors  into  which  a 
trained  officer  of  only  moderate  capac- 
ity may  fall  through  sheer  ignorance  of 
a  country,  its  people,  its  geography, 
and  its  mode  of  warfare,  when  coupled 
with  a  proper  contempt  for  local  advice. 
The  destruction  of  Oswego  was  in 
some  Ways  more  disastrous,  though 
less  dramatic,  than  Braddock's  defeat, 
and  another  wave  of  shame  and  sor- 
row swept  over  the  British  colonies. 
Niagara  was  now  secure  against  all 
attack.  Worse  still,  British  influence 
had  been  swept  from  the  shores  of  On- 
tario, which  was  once  again  a  French 
lake.  Worse  than  all,  perhaps,  an- 
other deadly  blow  was  struck  at  what 
was  left  of  British  prestige.  Save  in 
the  New  England  provinces,  there  was 
no  spark  of  military  vigour.  No  an- 
swering challenge  to  the  audacity  of 
the  French  came  from  the  Middle  and 
Southern  colonies  ;  the  minimum  of 
necessary  protection  seems  to  have 
been  the  limit  of  their  ardour.  The 
small  bodies  of  mercenaries  or  militia 
they  sent  into  the  field,  and  the  hand- 
ful of  individuals  from  the  prosperous 
classes  that  showed  what  we  should 
now  call  a  proper  spirit,  only  seem  to 
accentuate  the  lethargy.  It  was  quite 
evident  that  if  Great  Britain  was  to 
maintain  her  position  in  America  she 
must  make  the  effort  herself,  and  as 
yet  she  seemed  to  be  in  no  good  con- 
dition for  such  enterprises.  France, 
on  the  other  hand,  seemed  surely  blind 
to  her  good  fortune.  The  moment 
was  hers  in  America;  but  she  was 
turning  her  back  on  it,  and  gathering 
her  strength  and  treasure  to  wastie  in 
that  bloody  orgie  which  was  soon  to 
engulph  continental  Europe. 

•Not  of  course  the  Wood  Creek  near  Lake 
George. 


TO    BE   CONTINUED 


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THE  MEMOIRS  OF  M.  DE  BLOWITZ 

By  KNOX  MAGEE 


HE  records  of  lives  of  wide 
experience,  of  unusual  and 
varied  incident,  constitute 
not  only  the  most  entertain- 
ing, but  the  most  instruct- 
ive part  of  our  literature.  Among 
such  records  of  such  lives  none  that 
has  appeared  in  recent  years  surpasses 
in  interest  or  instruction  the  volume 
now  under  examination. 

From  the  time  of  his  birth,  which 
occurred  in  1825,  till  his  death,  one 
year  ago  in  January  last,  M.  de  Blowitz 
was  a  child  of  fortune,  or,  as  he 
prefers  to  call  it,  Fate.  No  hero  ot 
Romance  was  more  befriended  of  the 
Gods  than  he,  no  character  of  modern 
fiction  meets  with  less  conventional 
experiences. 

Even  his  childhood  was  romantic. 
At  the  age  of  six  he  was  kidnapped  by 
gypsies  in  his  father's  park,  but  Fate 
stepped  in,  misdirected  his  captors  and 
so  permitted  the  rescue  party  to  over- 
take them.  When  fifteen  years  old  he 
was  sent,  in  the  company  of  his  tutor, 
on  five  years  of  travels  through  Aus- 
tria, Russia,  Italy  and  Switzerland. 
His  descriptions  of  the  ignorance, 
superstition  and  tyranny  that  flourish- 
ed in  Central  Europe  at  that  time  read 
like  a  chapter  from  ''The  Cloister  and 
the  Hearth,"  or  some  other  romance  of 
the  Middle  Ages.  The  period  during 
which  it  had  been  decreed  that  he 
should  travel  having  ended,  he  return- 
ed home,  but  only  to  discover  that, 
during  his  absence,  his  father's  entire 
fortune  had  been  lost  and  that  he  must 
in  future  work  for  his  living.  Adapt- 
ing himself  to  his  changed  circum- 
stances in  a  manner  that  was  charac- 
teristic of  him  throughout  his  whole  life, 
he  set  out  the  very  next  day  for  Am- 
erica. But  Fate  had  him  well  in  hand. 
At  Angers,  on  his  way  to  Havre,  where 
he  intended  to  take  ship,  he  broke  his 
pipe,  and  on  entering  a  shop  to  have  it 
^xed  he  met  an  old  friend  of  the  family 
who  persuaded   him   to   abandon   his 


plans  and  to  accompany  him  to  Paris. 

The  monarchy  of  Louis  Philippe  had 
just  been  overthrown;  Paris  was  in  a 
fever  of  political  excitement;  reputa- 
tions were  being  made  and  unmade 
in  a  day;  here  was  the  opportunity  for 
a  young  man;  all  thoughts  of  America 
were  banished  from  the  mind  of  de 
Blowitz;  the  crowds  of  Paris  fascinated 
him — in  Paris  he  would  remain. 

For  the  present,  however,  his  hopes 
were  doomed  to  disappointment.  la 
Paris  he  found  no  employment — and 
his  funds  were  low.  Through  the  in- 
fluence of  his  friends  he  secured  an  ap- 
pointment under  the  Government,  but 
not  in  the  city  of  his  choice.  He  was 
given  the  professorship  of  foreign  lan- 
guages in  the  college  of  Angers,  from 
which  place  he  was  soon  moved  to  the 
University  of  Marseilles.  In  that  city 
he  remained  for  many  years;  in  that 
city  he  married — and  in  that  city  he 
made  his  first  "beat"  in  journalism. 
This  last  event  happened  in  1869, 
when,  by  imparting  to  the  editor  of  a 
newspaper  information  concerning  the 
Government's  secret  support  of  M.  de 
Lesseps  as  a  candidate  for  election  as 
deputy  for  Marseilles,  he  brought  about 
the  defeat  of  de  Lesseps  and  raised 
such  a  storm  that  he  was  forced  to  leave 
the  city.  Indeed  it  was  only  through 
his  friendship  with  M.  Thiers  that  he 
escaped  expulsion  from  France. 

His  second  ''beat"  was  one  that  call- 
ed for  ingenuity  and  daring  such  as 
even  de  Blowitz  seldom  found  necessary 
when  engaged  in  his  journalistic  enter- 
prises of  later  days.  It  was  when  the 
Commune  was  carrying  on  its  reign  of 
terror  in  the  south  of  France  that  the 
man  who  was  to  outwit  Bismarck  and 
the  whole  Berlin  Congress  tapped  the 
telegraph  wires  at  Marseilles,  inform- 
ed the  Government  of  the  true  state  of 
affairs  and  so  enabled  M.  Thiers  to 
crush  the  Anarchists  almost  before 
they  were  aware  that  they  had  been 
betrayed.     As  a  reward  for  this  service 


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M.  Thiers  offered  the  future  journalist 
a  consulate,  but  at  that  time  he  made 
the  acquaintance  of  the  unfortunate 
Laurance  Oliphant,  then  the  Paris  cor- 
respondent of  the  Times — and  the  real 
career  of  the  greatest  of  newspaper 
correspondents  began  slowly  to  unfold. 

Mr.  Hardman,  Oliphant's  assistant, 
happened  to  be  absent  from  Paris;  de 
Blowitz  was  offered  the  position  of 
temporary  assistant;  he  accepted — and 
soon  afterwards  was  permanently  en- 
gaged. 

From  the  first  the  relations  between 
Mr.  Oliphant  and  his  new  colleague 
were  most  happy.  Indeed,  in  all  his 
references  to  his  immediate  superior 
de  Blowitz  gives  one  a  picture  of  a 
gentleman  possessing  culture,  tact  and 
urbanity  in  such  a  degree  as  to  make 
disagreeable  relations  with  him  almost 
impossible.  When  Mr.  Oliphant  re- 
signed, however,  and  Mr.  Hardman 
was  appointed  in  his  place,  friction  at 
once  arose.  Hardman  was  proud, 
haughty,  aggressive  and  intensely 
jealous.  He  made  the  life  of  his  sub- 
ordinate unendurable.  But  at  the  mo- 
ment when  the  situation  had  become 
most  acute,  and  de  Blowitz  was  about 
to  resign,  Hardman  suddenly  fell  ill 
and  died. 

This  left  de  Blowitz  next  in  the  direct 
line  of  succession  for  the  senior  corres- 
pondentship.  He  had  served  under 
two  superiors,  rendered  remarkable 
service,  performed  almost  the  entire 
work — and  yet  three  months  were  per- 
mitted to  pass  without  an  appointment 
being  made,  and  during  all  this  time  the 
name  of  almost  every  other  prominent 
journalist  was  mentioned  as  being  that 
of  one  likely  to  fill  the  vacancy.  Again 
he  was  on  the  point  of  resigning,  but 
once  more  Fate  interfered  and  prevent- 
ed his  unwise  act. 

On  the  31st  of  December,  1874, 
the  Prince  of  Asturias  was  proclaimed 
King  of  Spain,  as  Alphonso  XII,  at 
Madrid.  In  the  afternoon  of  that  day 
the  news  of  the  pronunciamento  reach- 
ed Paris.  Blowitz  was  confined  to  his 
bed  with  a  fever,  but  when  he  read  the 
brief  despatch  that  informed  the  world 
of  the  great  amp^  he  forgot  his  sick- 


ness, ordered  his  carriage  and  hasten- 
ed to  the  Spanish  Embassy,  there  to 
obtain  either  confirmation  or  refuta- 
tion of  the  report.  But  the  Spanish 
Ambassador  was  no  friend  to  Alphonso. 
He  ridiculed  the  news,  assured  de 
Blowitz  that  the  attempted  revolution 
had  been  quickly  suppressed  and  that 
there  was  not  the  slightest  possibility 
of  any  further  trouble  from  those  fool- 
ish persons — ^a  mere  handful  of  mis- 
guided soldiers — who  hoped  to  re- 
establish the  monarchy.  The  story 
sounded  reasonable,  but  de  Blowitz 
was  not  the  man  to  be  easily  deceived 
by  an  unscrupulous  diplomatist.  He 
felt  convinced  that  what  the  Ambas- 
sador said  was  false  in  its  entirety,  but 
he  had  no  proof.  The  Prince  of  As- 
turias then  lived  in  exile  in  Paris.  In 
him  lay  the  correspondent's  only  hope 
of  obtaining  reliable  information — but 
to  the  Prince  he  was  a  total  stranger. 
On  his  way  home  from  the  Embassy  he 
drove  past  the  residence  of  the  new 
King.  The  gates  were  all  locked, 
police  guarded  the  house,  and  the 
street  was  almost  blocked  by  the  crowd 
of  reporters  and  sightseers  who  clam- 
oured for  news.  To  gain  admittance 
seemed  impossible.  Blowitz  drove 
home  in  despair.  Once  more  in  his 
house,  however,  he  remembered  his 
acquaintance  with  a  Spanish  nobleman 
— the  Count  de  Banuelos — who  then 
resided  in  Paris.  To  the  house  of  this 
gentleman  he  at  once  repaired;  caught 
him  just  as  he  was  starting  out  to  ac- 
company his  daughters  to  a  ball;  per- 
suaded the  Count  to  gain  for  him 
admission  to  the  King's  presence;  ac- 
complished his  purpose;  had  an  hour's 
interview  with  his  Majesty  and,  though 
it  was  one  o'clock  when  he  reached  the 
telegraph  office,  had  a  two-column 
*'  beat"  in  the  next  morning's  Times  \ 
One  month  later  he  was  permanently 
appointed  to  the  position  of  senior 
Parisian  correspondent  of  the  greatest 
of  all  daily  journals. 

From  this  timeforward  his  career  was 
an  uninterrupted  series  of  adventures 
and  successes.  Almost  all  of  his  non- 
professional experiences  of  note  rwere 
with   women,   to  whom  he  frequently 


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THE  FURNISHING  OF  PAT  MAGUIRE 


S7 


played  the  part  of  father  confessor  and 
general  adviser.  The  chapter  entitled 
**Alva"  is,  perhaps,  the  most  remark- 
able account  of  a  real  romance  that  one 
will  discover  in  contemporary  biog- 
raphy. In  this  chapter  M.  de  Blowitz 
describes  the  manner  in  which  he  res- 
cued the  illegitimate  daughter  of  an 
unfortunate  European  princess  from 
the  contemptible  persecution  that  she 
suffered  at  the  hands  of  the  Govern- 
ment of  her  country.  The  conduct  of 
the  gallant  old  gentleman  on  this  oc- 
casion, when  he  not  only  sacrificed  his 
time,  but  risked  his  fortune  and  his 
reputation  in  the  service  of  a  lady  who 
was  to  him  almost  a  stranger,  demands 
a  tribute  from  the  reader  that  amounts 
almost  to  affection.  Two  other  chap- 
ters, "The  Revenge  of  Venus"  and  "A 
Life  Struggle,"  are  scarcely  less  fasci- 
nating and  no  less  remarkable.  Both 
would  readily  pass  as  fictipn  of  a  high 
order. 

To  the  journalist,  the  description  of 
how  the  Times  was  enabled  to  publish 
the  entire  text  of  the  famous  Berlin 
Treaty,  in  advance  of  any  other  paper, 
and  before  the  official  announcement 
was  made,  will  be  the  most  instructive 
part  of  the  book.  To  the  student  of 
politics,  the  account  of  the  five  hours' 
interview  with  Bismarck,  the  explana- 


tion of  why  France  did  not  accompany 
England  to  Egypt,  de  Blowitz's  suc- 
cessful efforts  to  prevent  a  second 
Franco-Prussian  war,  and  his  unsuc- 
cessful attempt  to  arrange  a  conference 
between  Bismarck  and  Gambetta  will 
appeal  most  strongly.  The  story  of 
the  death  struggle  of  the  Emperor 
Frederick  1 1 1  is  by  far  the  most  drama- 
tic and  pathetic  chapter  in  the  book. 
The  conduct  of  the  present  German 
Emperor  on  that  occasion  was  such  as 
inspires  indignation  and  contempt. 
Blowitz's  long  interview  with  the  Sul- 
tan is  of  special  interest  at  the  present 
time,  when  Turkey  occupies  so  much  of 
the  public  attention.  From  this  chapter 
one  gets  a  picture  of  the  autocrat 
quite  different  from  that  which  one 
usually  obtains  from  reading  sensa- 
tional press  despatches.  Indeed,  in  a 
book  that  is  remarkable  in  so  many 
ways,  possibly  the  most  remarkable 
parts  are  those  that  give  us  pen  por- 
traits of  the  important  personages 
with  whom  the  correspondent  came  in 
contact.  But  it  is  dangerous  to  partic- 
ularize, for  the  volume  is  so  full  of  in- 
terest and  so  delightfully  written  that, 
did  one  start  to  pick  out  the  chapter 
that  is  most  valuable  or  enjoyable,  one 
would  end  by  declaring:  *'Ah!  I  have 
it !— It  is  the  whole  book  !" 


THE  FURNISHING  OF  PAT  MAGUIRE 

By  WINNIFRED  BOGGS 


|V  a  certain  Irish  hamlet  on 
the  Atlantic  there  are  cliffs 
that  rise  sheer  from  the  sea; 
far  down,  the  black  waters 
seethe  and  bubble  as  they 
dash  into  grim  dark  caverns,  rushing 
past  out-jutting  crags  with  a  whirling 
roar  of  foam,  breaking  with  a  deep 
crashing  boom  against  the  impenetra- 
ble sides  of  the  gloomy  cliffs,  which,  in 
their  cold,  stern  grandeur,   seem    to 


gaze  at  the  impotent  fury  of  the  waters 
in  calm,  measureless  contempt.  Here, 
on  the  top  of  these  northern  Irish 
cliffs,  Biddy  M'Shane  stood  motionless 
one  night,  watching  for  signs  of  life  to 
pass  into  the  field  track  which  led  zig- 
zag to  where  she  waited. 

The  night  grew  later;  the  wind  died 
down;  the  moon,  coming  out  of  a  small 
rift  in  the  sky,  turned  the  great  gleam 
of  the  waters  into  iridescent  pathways 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


of  silver,  but  still  the  girl's  eyes  turn- 
ed westward.  There  was  a  great  still- 
ness lying  over  all  the  land,  so  deep,  so 
quiet,  that  Nature  and  all  things  living 
seemed  at  rest;  the  spirit  of  silence 
seemed  brooding  in  the  air,  save  when, 
now  and  then,  the  dark  sails  of  a  fish- 
ing smack  came,  like  dreams,  drifting 
through  a  silver  sea  away  to  the  Isles 
of  Sleep. 

Presently  a  welcome  sound  struck 
upon  the  girPs  strained  ear — the  sound 
of  merry-makers  as  they  came  home 
rejoicing  with  song  and  shout  from 
Kilbahharrak  Fair.  Up  the  winding 
path  streamed  a  group  of  men,  with 
here  or  there  a  woman  in  their  midst, 
wives  or  mothers,  and  Biddy  M'Shane 
leaned  eagerly  forward  to  scan  the 
faces  of  the  advancing  figures  as  the 
moon  revealed  them  one  by  one  to 
her. 

Then  she  drew  back  with  bitter  dis- 
appointment— the  face  she  looked  for 
was  not  there.  She  shrank  into  the 
shadows,  -hoping  to  remain  unobserv- 
ed while  the  roysterers  passed.  The 
first  few  noticed  nothing,  but  the  sec- 
ond lot,  composed  chiefly  of  women, 
were  less  easily  deceived;  one  of  their 
number  sprang  forward  and  caught  the 
girl  by  the  arm. 

'•Why,  shure  an'  it's  Biddy  M'- 
Shane,  no  less,"  she  exclaimed  shrilly, 
then  letting  her  go,  with  a  loud  laugh, 
**Is  it  waitin'  for  the  fairin'  ye  be?" 

*•  Let  me  be,  Kate  Flanagan,"  cried 
the  girl  angrily,  darting  down  the  path 
out  of  reach. 

With  a  laugh  and  a  jest  the  fairers 
passed  on,  and  as  their  voices  died 
away  in  the  distance,  silence  reigned 
once  more. 

The  girl  resumed  her  old  station,  and 
presently  a  man's  solitary  figure  made 
her  heart  beat  high  with  anticipation; 
then  as  the  moon  shone  on  fair,  not 
dark,  hair,  and  a  man  of  large  instead 
of  small  stature,  her  hopes  fell  again, 
and  she  stood  sullen  and  resentful 
awaiting  his  approach. 

•*Why,  Biddy,  can  it  be  yezsilf?" 
cried  the  man  amazed,  as  catching 
sight  of  her  watching  figure  he  sprang 
lightly  to  her  side;  **  'tis  little  I  hoped 


to  see  ye  this  night,"  and  he  came 
closer,  looking  eagerly  into  her  eyes. 

She  returned  his  gaze  with  indiffer- 
ence. '"Tis  not  for  ye  I  be  waitin', 
Pat  Maguire,"  she  replied,  turning 
away.     The  young  man's  face  fell. 

'•Arrah,  now,  Biddy,  'tis  teasin'  ye 
be,"  he  said  anxiously;  "wait  till  I  tell 
ye  what  I  bought  at  the  fair." 

She  looked  up  with  a  faint  glint  of 
curiosity. 

"  'Tis  nothin'  to  me,  thin,"  she  said, 
tossing  her  head,  adding  in  the  same 
breath,  *' Yecan  tell  me  if  ye  like." 

"  Well  thin,  an  illigant  rockin'-chair 
an'  no  less,"  with  triumph. 

**  Ye  niver  did,"  incredulously. 

*Mt's  thruth,"  he  replied.  **An' 
that's  not  all,  either,"  fumbling  in  his 
pockets  as  he  spoke.  "See  here,  Biddy, 
allannah." 

Something  flashed  in  the  moonlight, 
and  Biddy  gave  an  exclamation  of 
amazement  as  a  little  paste  butterfly 
brooch  was  dropped  into  her  hand. 

Never  had  she  seen  anything  so 
beautiful  before;  she  gazed  at  it  with 
dilated  eyes  and  parted  lips. 

"  Rale  Irish  dimons  the  sellar  tould 
me,"  said  Pat  Maguire,  proudly  bend<- 
ing  his  fair  thatch  of  hair  low  over  the 
girl's  palm,  and  taking  jewel  and  all 
into  his  own  brown  fingers.  "It'll  look 
lovely  in  yez  shawl  on  Sundays,"  he 
murmured  admiringly;  "shure  an'  it'll 
be  breakin'  the  hearts  of  all  the  other 
colleens  ye'U  be,  with  yez  beautiful  face 
and  rale  Irish  dimons." 

The  girl  hesitated;  then  she  turned 
away  from  the  glittering  bauble. 

"  I  cannot  take  it,  Pat  Maguire," 
she  said  in  a  low  voice;  "keep  it  for 
yez  swateheart." 

"  But  it's  yezsilf  that  I  want  for  me 
swateheart,"  began  the  tall  young 
Irishman  blankly. 

"  Haven't  I  tould  ye  now,"  re- 
proachfully, "  that  I'd  never  take  ye 
for  me  bhoy  ?" 

"  Och,  Biddy,  don't,"  cried  Pat  in  a 
sharp  pained  voice,  "  shure  it'is  the 
light  of  my  eyes  ye  are,  the — " 

The  girl  pushed  him  away  with  no 
gentle  hand.  "Git  away  ye  great 
nuisance,"  she  cried,  with  an  angry 


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THE  FURNISHING  OF  PAT  MAGUIRE 


59 


sob,  *'  it*s  no  peace  I  have  wid  ye  at 
all,  at  all.  Ye  know  what  I  am  wait- 
tn'  here  for,  and  niver  a  word  of 
him,  good  or  bad.  Where  is  Harry 
Bagh?'' 

'*I  might  have  known,"  whispered 
Pat  bitterly;  *' always  that  wastral, 
that—". 

She  turned  on  him  like  a  wild  cat. 
''Ye  shall  not  say  a  word  against 
him,*'  she  replied  fiercely.  "Where 
is  he,  thin — where  did  ye  lave  him?" 

Old  Adam  was  too  strong  for  Pat 
Maguire;  he  told  the  crude  truth  when 
a  little  softening  of  the  facts  would 
have  been  more  gracious. 

'*  Dead  dhrunk  in  the  ditch  comin' 
along,"  he  answered. 

**  Ye — ^ye  coward,  ye  mane-spirited 
coward,"  cried  Biddy,  with  flashing 
^yes^  *'  lavin'  the  poor  darlint  to  catch 
his  death  of  cowid  in  a  damp  ditch — 
for  shame  on  ye,  Pat  Maguire,  for 
shame.  'Tis  no  dacent  Irish  bhoy  ye 
are,  but  a  low,  cruel,  murthering  thafe. 
Take  that,"  and  reaching  on  tiptoe, 
the  young  virago  struck  the  big  Irish 
lad  a  stinging  blow  on  the  right  ear. 

Pat  caught  the  offending  hand  and 
held  it  tightly,  shaking  the  girl  gent- 

«y. 

"  It's  a  damon  ye  are,  for  shure," 
he  muttered  admiringly,  liking  the 
girl  none  the  less  for  her  show  of 
spirit.  "  It's  locked  up  or  married  ye 
should  be." 

'*  And  it's  rather  locked  up  for  life 
I'd  be  than  married  to  ye,"  was  the 
reply. 

For  a  few  moments  there  was  si- 
lence, then — 

•*  Well,  what  do  ye  want  me  to  do?" 
the  young  man  asked  unwillingly. 

"Ye  know  what  any  dacent  boy 
would  do." 

"  Fetch  him  home?"  sulkily. 

"Yes." 

Another  pause,  a  longer  one  this 
time. 

"  Well,  I'll  do  it,"  he  said  at  length, 
in  anything  but  cheerful  tones,  "if 
ye'U  give  me — "  he  paused,  confused 
by  the  scathing  light  in  the  girl's  eyes, 
"if — if  ye'U  keep  the  brooch,  I  mane, 
an'  wear  it  on  Sunday." 


For  answer,  Biddy  pinned  the  jewel 
in  her  bodice  and  pointed  down  the 
path. 

"Now,  thin,  be  quick  wid  ye,"  she 
said  imperiously,  "it's  gettin' damp." 

The  young  man  turned  away,  mur- 
muring savagely—: 

"  I  could  be  layin'  in  wather  all 
night  before  ye'd  moider  yezsilf  about 
me." 

. ' '  The  like  of  ye  are  big  enough  and 
ugly  enough  to  look  after  yezselves," 
was  the  reply,  "  an'  ye  can  stan'  more 
dhrink  than  Harry  Bagh." 

"  'Did,  thin,  if  I  took  half—"  began 
the  young  man,  injured,  but  Biddy 
was  already  pushing  him  down  the 
slope. 

"It's  slow  as  death  ye  are,"  she 
cried  impatiently;  "what  are  yez  great 
long  legs  for  ?" 

"  I'm  goin'." 

An  extra  hard  shove  down  the  steep 
incline,  and  the  angry  Pat  was  indeed 
"goin'." 

"  Good-night,  an'  hurry  now,"  called 
out  Biddy  before  running  home,  and 
slipping  into  the  small,  full  cabin  with- 
out waking  the  slumberers  within. 

It  is  to  be  feared  that  Harry  Bagh's 
passage  home  was  a  trifle  uncomfort- 
able, and  that  he  would  not  have 
blessed  Biddy  for  being  the  cause  of 
the  disturbance  of  his  sweet  slumbers 
in  the  ditch. 

Biddy  M'Shane  was  the  prettiest 
girl  in  Limnagarry,  a  place  where 
pretty  girls  were  the  rule  rather  than 
the  exception.  Needless  to  remark, 
she  had  numerous  admirers,  the  most 
eligible,  as  well  as  the  most  persistent, 
being  big  Pat  Maguire,  a  distant  kins- 
man; the  least  eligible  and  most  indif- 
ferent was  the  village  Adonis,  the 
black-haired,  black-eyed,  natty  Harry 
Bagh. 

Pat  had  a  cottage  of  his  own,  and 
almost  enough  land  to  constitute  a 
small  farm,  in  the  imagination  of  Bid- 
dy's mother.  He  lived  entirely  alone, 
yet  his  cottage  was  a  model  of  neat- 
ness; it  even  boasted  a  few  articles  of 
real  furniture,  and  besides  the  living 
room  and  kitchen  combined,  had  two 
others. 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


It  was  the  envy,  the  despair,  the 
secret  hope  of  all  the  unmarried  wo- 
men from  fifteen  to  fifty. 

While  Harry  Bagh — though  his  hair 
was  a  mass  of  purple-black  curls,  his 
black  eyes  fringed  with  dark,  thick 
lashes,  his  teeth  of  dazzling  whiteness, 
his  merry  mouth  red  and  shapely  with 
health  and  youth,  and  his  small  form 
the  essence  ot  dandified  elegance — had 
nothing. 

He  had  friends  and  sweethearts  ga- 
lore, spirits  that  nothing  could  damp, 
and  a  humorous  view  of  life  that  in- 
fected even  the  most  destitute ;  but  of 
worldly  wealth,  not  a  sou. 

He  occupied  in  company  with  his 
parents,  nine  brothers  and  sisters,  his 
grandmother,  and  an  aunt,  and  the 
pig,  a  small,  tumble-down  cabin  on  the 
Limnagarry  road  just  where  it  branch- 
ed off  into  Blackberry  Lane.  It  was, 
perhaps,  the  most  picturesquely  situ- 
ated cabiil  in  the  whole  country-side. 
A  winding  lane  with  high,  wild  hedge- 
rows led  to  it;  behind  it  rose  the  pur- 
ple mountains  of  Donegal;  beside  it,  to 
the  right,  lay  the  sea,  with  grassy 
slopes,  one  blaze  of  sea-pinks.  Out- 
side the  most  picturesque,  and  inside 
the  dirtiest  in  all  Donegal. 

By  trade  Harry  Bagh  was,  like  his 
rival,  a  fisherman;  young  and  old,  for 
many  miles  round,  all  earned  their  liv- 
ing in  this  manner.  To  see  Harry 
Bagh  off  to  the  shore,  with  his  black 
eyes  twinkling,  the  gleam  of  his  teeth 
showing  through  his  merry  lips,  his 
red  fisher  cap  set  jauntily  on  his  thick, 
dark  curls,  was  to  behold  a  joyous 
sight  that  many  a  blue-eyed  colleen 
waited  to  see. 

To  see  him  come  back  with  his 
share  of  the  spoil,  whistling  lightly  as 
he  sorted  it  out,  his  red  cap  farther 
back,  his  hair  dashed  with  spray,  while 
his  dark,  Spanish  face  glowed  with  the 
sea's  brown  health,  was  to  see,  if  pos- 
sible, an  even  more  joyous  sight. 
Nothing  disturbed  the  even  tenor  of  his 
happy-go-lucky  way.  He  went  to  a 
fair  whistling  '*  Kathleen  Mavourneen;" 
he  came  back  after  a  night  spent  in 
the  ditch  or  lock-up  still  whistling 
''Kathleen  Mavourneen,'*  a  smile   of 


good-fellowship  on  his  devil-may-care 
face. 

Though  by  far  the  most  worthless  of 
all  the  young  men  about,  and  the  one 
that  cared  least  about  Biddy,  she,  out 
of  sheer  perversity,  set  her  fancy  upon 
him.  When  she  wanted  anything, 
when  she  was  in  trouble,  when  there 
were  grave  matters  to  be  settled,  the 
honest,  well-meaning,  stalwart,  but 
plain-featured  Pat  was  the  one  she  took 
counsel  with. 

Ever  since  he  had  been  old  enough 
to  know  what  he  wanted  Pat  had  want- 
ed Biddy,  and  Biddy  alone;  for  him  no 
other  girl  existed.  Till  Harry  Bagh's 
conquering  black  eyes  had  glanced  into 
hers,  Pat's  suit  had  prospered  well 
enough,  and  he  had  worked  hard  early 
and  late  at  his  little  patch,  cultivating 
the  ground  and  rearing  pigs  and  poul- 
try with  well-merited  success. 

Owing  to  his  industry  he  was  at  last 
able  to  buy  a  small  boat  and  fishing- 
tackle,  so  that  everything  was  clear, 
undivided  profit;  and  he  grew,  in  the 
eyes  of  the  primitive  Irish  poor,  almost 
a  man  of  wealth. 

It  had  become  second  nature  to  him 
to  make  fair  his  home  for  the  time  of 
Biddy's  coming.  He  still  toiled  on 
doggedly  hoping  against  hope,  for 
he  told  himself,  not  always  with  con- 
viction, that  come  she  would  in  the 
end. 

Early  in  the  morning  after  Harry 
Bagh's  arrival  home  he  was  on  the 
beach  as  usual,  none  the  worse  for  his 
little  indiscretion.  He  strolled  about 
from  one  girl  to  the  other,  exchanging 
jests  and  compliments,  saying  the 
same  to  Biddy  as  he  said  to  all  the 
girls  with  any  pretensions  to  beauty, 
while  Pat  Maguire  stood  a  little  apart 
looking  on  with  a  jealous  scowl,  and 
perhaps  expecting  a  word  of  praise 
from  Biddy  for  carrying  out  her  com- 
mands. 

On  her  part  she  wondered  why  he 
did  not  come  up  and  speak  to  her^ 
and  something  akin  to  annoyance  seiz- 
ed upon  her  spoiled  whims  when  he 
went  off  with  the  boats  without  one 
word. 

Harry  Bagh  waved  a  smiling  good- 


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bye  all  round;  Biddy  could  not  (latter 
herself  that  it  was  intended  more  for  her 
than  the  others.  She  knew  and  deplor- 
ed his  light,  fickle  nature,  but  went  on 
coveting  his  love. 

In  the  evening  when  the  boats  came 
home  it  was  much  the  same;  again 
Harry  Bagh  jested  with  all  alike,  while 
Pat  Maguire,  without  a  word,  walked 
sourly  home. 

For  a  few  days  things  went  on  in 
this  very  unsatisfactory  manner.  Biddy 
wore  the  brooch  on  Sunday,  to  the  un- 
dying envy  of  all  the  other  girls,  but 
Pat  never  came  to  Mass,  and  when  she 
took  it  off  and  put  it  away  in  an  old 
tin  box,  angry  tears  marred  the  bright- 
ness of  the  jewel. 

The  next  day  Harry  Bagh's  mother, 
Mrs.  O'Grady,  waddled  up  to  her 
with  a  wide,  good-natured  mouth, 
gabbling  long  before  she  was  in  ear- 
shot. 

She  came  up  panting  and  breathless, 
her  hands  pressed  against  her  fat  sides, 
**Arrah,  thin,  Biddy,  me  jewel,  'tis 
yezsilf  Tve  been  wantin'  to  see  all  this 
long,  weary  day,"  she  began  rapidly, 
**  IVe  been  insulted,  that  never  was, 
wid  that  wastral  Harry  Bagh's  fine 
voung English  miss." 
'  "Who?"  faltered  Biddy. 

*•  Haven't  ye  heard  ?  Shure  it's  the 
bad,  bould  heart  the  boy  has,"  lifting 
up  her  hands  in  mock  horror,  and  try- 
ing hard  to  suppress  unbecoming  signs 
of  pride.  ''  Ye  know  that  fine  English 
lady's  maid  her  ladyship  brought 
down  r 

*'  What  has  she  got  to  do  wid  Harry 
Bagh  ?"  asked  Biddy  uneasily. 

*'  Shure  'tis  his  latest  s^ateheart  she 
is — no  less,  but  wait  till  I  tell  ye. 
Harry  Bagh  was  for  bringin'  her  in  to 
tay,  so  I  put  out  the  china,  an'  gave 
her  the  uncracked  mug,  so  I  did,  too, 
the  cratur.  An'  I  dusted  the  seat  ojf 
the  chair,  an'  set  boxes  roun',  an'  a 
proud  woman  I  was  the  day,  Biddy 
M'Shane,  wid  the  fine  childer  an' 
ducks  an'  hens,  an'  the  sides  of  the  pig 
hangin'  up  to  dry,  an'  fresh  eggs  for 
me  fine  lady,  an'  rale  bread  an'  but- 
ter, an'  everything  so  genteel  an'  illi- 
gant." 


She  paused  for  breath,  the  girl  wait- 
ing anxiously  for  her  to  continue. 

Presently  Mrs.  O'Grady  got  started 
again.  **Yes,"  she  went  on,  "all  so 
fine  ^n'  illigant,  an'  I  waited  for  her  in 
me  grand  new  clothes  I'd  bought 
second-hand  at  the  fair,  an'  where  the 
body  of  me  wouldn't  meet,  I  wore 
Tim's  Sunday  waistcoat,  an'  it  was  a 
rale  trate  I  was,  me  dear,  though  I 
says  it  as  shouldn't.  An'  presently 
came  Harry  Bagh  an'  his.English  miss, 
and  by  St.  Patrick,  what  do  you  think 
the  cratur  wore  ?" 

<'I  can*t  think,"  breathlessly. 

'^A  rale  silk  petticoat,  no  less,"  in 
awed  accents. 

Biddy's  amaze  and  disgust  were 
great  enough  even  to  please  that  lover 
of  sensation,  Mrs.  O'Grady. 

"  It's  thrue,  an'  that  not  all,  for  she 
lifted  her  skirts  that  high,  when  she 
come  in,  and  there  were  silk  stockin's 
an'  shoes  that  small,  with  tremenjious 
heels,  just  like  her  ladyship's.  An'  she 
walked  like  this,  turnin'  up  her  long 
nose" — Mrs.  O'Grady  walked  in  an  ab- 
surd imitation  of  her  guest's  manner, 
turning  up  her  ridiculous  little  nose 
sky  high — **an'  when  she  saw  the 
ducks — the  darlints — in  the  cabin,  she 
squealed  and  said,  ''Oh,  gracious,  the 
hanimals  have  got  into  your  'iit — 
called  it  a  *  'ut.'  An'  was  so  ignorant 
she  didn't  know  where  the  fowls  lived. 
Thin,  after  I  put  tay  in  the  taypot,  she 
got  up  and  held  her  fine  hankerpiece  to 
her  face  an'  walked  off  wid  Harry  Bagh, 
saying  she  couldn't  stand  'the  low 
common  Hirish.'  Now,"  speechless  with 
indignation,  "what do  you  say  to  that?" 

Biddy  could  have  said  a  good  deal, 
but  more  of  Harry  Bagh's  fickleness 
than  of  his  mother's  injuries. 

She  walked  home  rather  thoughtful- 
ly. She  could  not  help  contrasting 
Pat  and  Harry  Bagh.  On  her  way  she 
paused,  and  looked  wistfully  at  the 
former's  well-kept  potato  patch,  but  no 
stalwart  form  was  working  there,  and 
heaving  a  sigh  she  went  on  with  drag- 
ging footsteps. 

Halfway  down  the  lane  she  met  Pat 
Maguire,  who  turned  and  walked  by 
her  in  silence. 


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"  Have  you  lost  yez  tongue  ?"  asked 
the  girl  pertly,  at  length. 

**  No,  Biddy,  but  I've  bought  a  tay- 
pot  an'  two  china  cups  an'  saucers 
widout  a  crack." 

**Have  ye  now?"  with  affected  in- 
difference. **What  would  ye  be  wantin' 
wid  two  cups,  Pat  Maguire  ?" 

**  Biddy,  ye — "  he  began. 

**  Well,  good-night  to  ye,  shure  I  see 
me  mother  lookin'  for  me,"  and  before 
he  was  aware  of  her  intention  she  had 
caught  up  to  Mrs.  M 'Shane's  small 
wrinkled  form  in  front. 

He  had  no  choice  save  to  turn  and 
go  home,  dwelling  on  the  hardness  of 
his  lady-love's  heart. 

A  few  days  later,  flushed  and  eager, 
he  stood  at  the  corner  waiting  to  see 
her  pass  on  her  way  to  the  well.  No 
sooner  had  she  appeared  than  he  was 
by  her  side. 

'*  Biddy,"  he  cried  breathlessly, 
'•  Biddy,  I've  bought  a  chest-o'-draw- 
ers. 

The  girl's  great  Irish  eyes  grew  yet 
larger  in  amazement.  ^'I  don't  believe 
ye,"  she  cried  disdainfully;  ''only  the 
quality  have  chest-o'-drawers;  what 
for  would  the  likes  of  ye  be  buyin' 
one?" 

•'Forme  wife,"  boldly* 

"Arrah,  thin,  I  did  not  know  ye  was 
married  at  all,  at  all." 

"Biddy,"  reproachfully,  "ye  know 
my  manin'." 

Biddy  tossed  her  head.  "I  don't," 
she  declared  untruthfully. 

"Come  an'  look  at  it,  thin,"  he 
pleaded,  "just  one  little  peep,  now." 

The  girl  hesitated,  and  then  turned 
resolutely  away.  "  No,  it's  nothin'  to 
me,"  she  insisted,  "an'  I  must  be  goin', 
Pat  Maguire. " 

He  stood  looking  after  her  retreat- 
ing form  in  bitter  disappointment. 

"  It's  no  good  at  all,  at  all,"  he 
thought  wretchedly.  Then  the  gloom 
lifted  again  as  a  vision  of  his  green 
enamelled  chest-o'-drawers  rose  before 
his  eyes.  "  Shure  it's  a  fine  thing  en- 
tirely," he  muttered,  "an'  wait  till  I 
buy  a  cow." 

The  news  that  Pat  Maguire  had 
bought  a  "rale  iligant"  chest-o'-draw- 


ers spread  like  wild  fire  through  Lim- 
nag^arry,  and  incredulous  groups  rush- 
ed up  to  the  cottage  to  see  the  wonder 
with  their  own  doubting  eyes. 

When  they  beheld  it,  one  and  all 
were  speechless  with  envy  and  admira- 
tion, and  went  home  scarcely  believing 
the  evidence  of  their  own  eyes.  What 
would  not  every  woman  there  have 
given  to  possess  that  wonderful  piece 
of  furniture  for  her  very  own  ?  And  to 
think  that  Biddy  M'Shane  might  have 
it,  and  all  the  glories  of  the  cot- 
tage, for  the  lifting*  up  of  her  little 
finger. 

"  Shure  'tis  a  proud  woman  I  am 
this  day,"  said  Mrs.  M'Shane,  with  a 
gasp. 

Biddy  was  not  as  indifferent  as  she 
pretended  to  the  event  of  the  year,  and 
she  hoped  Pat  would  ask  her  again  to 
view  his  purchase.  When  he  should 
do  so  she  had  decided  to  give  in  grace- 
fully after  a  show  of  resistance;  how- 
ever, as  Pat,  much  to  her  mortifica- 
tion, did  nothing  of  the  kind,  keeping, 
instead,  strictly  out  of  her  way,  and 
even  leaving  her  to  learn  from  others 
that  he  had  added  a  cow  td  the  estab- 
lishment, such  condescension  was  not 
asked  from  her. 

By  this  time  she  had  forgotten  all 
about  the  fickle  Harry  Bagh,  and  was 
thoroughly  in  love  with  the  stalwart 
young  farmer,  for  so  her  mother  insist- 
ed on  speaking  of  him  since  the  arrival 
of  the  cow. 

The  cow  calved  and  there  was  a 
large  litter  of  pigs,  but  still  Pat  went 
on  his  way  regardless  of  Biddy's  wist- 
ful, watching  eyes,  and  one  day  when 
she  heard  he  had  added  a  small  wood- 
en dresser,  with  dishes  and  plates,  and 
three  jugs  to  place  upon  it,  she  felt  she 
could  bear  his  strange  conduct  no 
longer,  and  lingered  in  Blackberry 
Lane  at  twilight  time,  waiting  to  see 
him  pass. 

He  paused  as  he  came  along  and 
looked  at  her  eagerly,  then  made  as  if 
he  would  pass  on  unheeding,  but  the 
girl's  entreating  face,  raised  to  his, 
weakened  his  resolution.  He  stopped 
and  grew  suddenly  very  shy  and 
tongue-tied,    standing    there   big  and 


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THE  FURNISHING  OF  PAT  MAGUIRE 


6S 


awkward,  his  heart  full  of  the  love  he 
could  not  find  words  to  express. 

The  g'olden  light  was  just  resting  on 
the  purple  of  the  mountains,  a  soft 
haze  of  crimson  lay  behind  them,  cut- 
ting a  fleecy  cloud  into  flecks.  The 
purple  mountains,  the  gold  and  the 
crimson,  and  all  the  glories  of  the  set- 
ting sun  were  reflected  in  the  azure 
waters.  The  bees  hummed  lazily  down 
the  lane,  their  drowsy  buzzing  a  lulla- 
by; butterflies  twinkled  from  flower  to 
flower,  fluttering  up  and  down  like 
tiny  gorgeous  blossoms,  and  the  smell 
of  earth  and  peat  and  all  the  summer 
of  nature,  came  sweet  and  strong  to 
the  young  couple  standing  side  by 
side. 

**  It's  a  stranger  ye  are  now  entire- 
ly, **  said  the  girl  at  last,  coyly. 

Still  Pat  made  no  remark. 

"How  is  the  chest-o*-drawers ?" 
asked  Biddy,  looking  down. 

His  face  brightened.  <'  Ye  should 
just  see  it,"  he  cried  enthusiastically. 
''  Shurfe  it's  the  light  of  the  cottage, 
an'  the  itigant  sideboard,  an'  plates, 
an'  dishes,  an'  jugs  an'  all.  Kate  Gili- 
gan  came  in  yesterday,  an'  she  said 
'twould  houldall  a  body's  clothes,"  (he 
was  referring  to  the  chest-of-drawers), 
an'  lave  room  for  tay  and  sugar  be- 
sides, an'  she  tried  the  rockin'  chair  an' 
said  it  was  the  most  comfortable  she'd 
ever  seen. " 

Biddy  looked  at  him  with  jealous, 
blazing  eyes.  <<  I  wonder  it  didn't 
break  wid  the  weight  of  the  cratur — a 
great  ugly  elephant" 

'Mt's  as  strong  as  nivir  was;  shure 
'twould  hold  me  an'  another." 


He  looked  at  her  shyly. 

"An'  her  Sunday  clothes  in  my — 
your  chest-o'-drawers.  As  if  a  great 
ugly  colleen  like  Kate  wanted  clothes 
at  all  I" 

"Why.  Biddy,"  exclaimed  Pat, 
mildly  shocked;  "you  wouldn't  have 
a  dacent  body  goin'  about — " 

"  I'm  not  sure  that  she  is  a  dacent 
body,"  retorted  Biddy,  tossing  her 
head. 

"  For  shame— " 

"Well,  thin,"  hotly,  "is  it  dacent 
ye  call  it,  to  go  to  a  bhoy's  cottage  an' 
thry  his  things,  an'  his  rockin'  chair, 
an'— an'— ?"  She  broke  off  with  a 
stifled  sob. 

The  idea  of  that  hateful  thing  try- 
ing to  rob  her  of  Pat's  affection,  and — 
his  furniture.  She  sobbed  wildly  at 
the  mere  thought  of  it. 

Pat  stood  opposite,  trying  to  look 
into  her  eyes.  "Why,  Biddy,  me 
jewel,  what  is  it  ?"  he  asked  tenderly, 
pulling  her  hands  down  from  her  face, 
"  tell  me  now,  darlint." 

"  I  think  it  is  a  pity  the  chest-o'- 
drawers,  an'  the  iligant  sideboard,  an' 
the  rockin'-chair,  an'  the  jugs,  an'  the 
dishes,  should — go  out  of  the  family," 
she  whispered,  blushing. 

Pat  put  his  arms  around  her  without 
more  ado,  and  drew  her  wet  face 
against  his  own  radiant  one.  "Is  it 
yezsilf  that  will  be  wantin'  of  thim, 
thin,  darlint  ?"  he  asked  eagerly. 

"Yes,"  cried  the  girl,  her  arms 
stealing  round  her  lover's  neck.  "  I 
do  want  that  chest-o'-drawers  mortal 
bad,  but — I  want  ye  more,  Pat — 
darlint." 


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byTKeodoreRobG^rts 

drawings  l^— 

Arthur  WilliekRvBrovJTV 


iYDNEY  STEVENSON 
looked  in  at  the  tobacco- 
nist's on  his  way  to  the 
golf  course.  With  a  pre- 
occupied air  he  purchased 
a  package  of  his  favourite  cigarettes. 
He  lit  one  of  the  cigarettes  at  the  tiny 
flare  overhanging  the  cigar-case.  He 
was  thinking  of  Miss  O'Malley,  who 
was  to  meet  him  at  the  gate  leading 
into  the  links;  and  he  wondered  why 
she  had  anything  at  all  to  do  with  him 
if  she  really  cared  as  little  as  her  man- 
ner indicated.  **  I  believe  it  is  simply 
heartlessness/'  he  told  himself.  His 
dun-coloured  meditations  were  disturb- 
ed by  the  salesman  behind  the  counter. 
"We  have  procured  the  local  agency 
for  the  new  Royal  Scotch  High  Flyer 
golf  balls,"  remarked  the  youth. 
**  Would  you  care  to  look  at  them,  Mr. 
Stevenson  ?*' 

**  Why,  yes.  Thanks  very  much," 
replied  Stevenson,  returning  to  a  con- 
sciousness of  his  surroundings  with  a 
start  that  very  nearly  drove  his  elbow 
through  the  glass  of  the  show-case. 

The  salesman  took  a  cardboard  box 
from  the  shelf  behind  him,  and  from  it 
drew  forth  two  or  three  tissue-paper- 
enveloped  golf  balls.  He  rolled  them 
across  the  counter.  One  fell  to  the 
floor,  and  rebounded  to  the  height  of 
the  counter.  Stevenson  caught  it  neat- 
ly, and  examined  it  with  interest. 
**  Not  much  trouble  to  clear  a  bunker 
with  a  ball  like  that,"  he  remarked. 
"Captain  Stubbs  won   the  St.   An- 


64 


drew's  match  with  its  mate,"  replied 
the  salesman. 

Stevenson  subjected  two  of  the  balls 
to  a  careful  scrutiny  and  then  slipped 
them  into  the  pocket  of  his  loose  coat. 

"  What's  the  damage,"  he  asked. 

"Only  one  dollar,"  answered  the 
beguiler. 

"Only!"  exclaimed  Stevenson. 
"  Great  Scott!  man,  with  such  large 
ideas,  if  I  were  you  Td  retire  from 
business." 

"  Fifty  cents  per;  and  they  are 
worth  the  money,"  retorted  the  tobac- 
conist. 

Stevenson  flshed  the  required  coins 
from  the  depth  of  a  pocket,  and  left 
the  shop.  "And  still  the  world  ex- 
pects a  poet  to  put  money  in  the  col- 
lection plate  in  church,  and  wear  col- 
lars, when  it  charges  him  for  every 
mortal  golf  ball  the  price  of  an  immor- 
tal line  of  verse,"  he  soliloquized.  He 
found  Miss  O'Malley  by  the  green  turn- 
stile gate  that  leads  to  the  lower  end 
of  the  links.  She  had  already  engaged 
two  caddies  (the  usual  two — ^Jim  of  the 
red  head,  and  Pete  of  the  paternal 
trousers),  and  as  Stevenson  approach- 
ed she  looked  severely  at  her  watch. . 

"Am  I  late?"  he  enquired  in  deep 
concern. 

"  You  have  been  ten  minutes'  late 
for  every  appointment  this  fall,"  she 
said. 

"That's  just  my  luck,"  he  explain- 
ed, as  they  moved  toward  the  first  tee. 
"Whenever  I  am  very  keen  to  be  on 


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65 


time  for  a  thing  I  get  ready  hours  too 
soon,  make  half-a-dozen  false  starts, 
and  wind  up  by  being  half  a  day  late. " 

"Ten  minutes,"  she  corrected  him. 

'*  Ah,  well,  ten  minutes  or  half  a  day 
—they  seem  to  be  equal  crimes  in 
your  eyes,"  he  murmured. 

Miss  O'Malley  turned  her  face  away 
and  smiled,  and  only  the  caddies  saw 


It. 


She's 


**Gee!"    whispered    Pete. 
easy.     Wish  I  wus  him." 

**  You'd  make  a  peach  poet — in 
them  pants,"  replied  Jim  of  the  red 
head. 

Sydney  Stevenson  bent  close  to 
Kate  O'Malley.  **  Why  are  you  so 
frightfully  down  on  me  ?"  he  asked  in 
guarded  tones. 

She  looked  at  him  in  cool 
surprise.  **  Would  I  spend 
two  or  three  hours  of  every 
fine  afternoon  in  your  company 
if  I  were  down  on  you  ?  "  she 
retorted. 

**  Oh,  you  are  awfully  good 
to  me,"  he  said  plaintively, 
"but — well,  people  are  good 
to  cripples,  you  know." 

She  did  not  speak. 

'*  I  wonder  if  you  would 
change  your  mind  if  I  went 
away,"  he  ventured. 

*•  Why  don't  you  try?"  she 
asked. 

He  laughed  drily.  *  *  My  dear 
girl,  I  have  tried  about  twenty 
times." 

**  I  never  missed  you." 

**I  mean  I  tried  to  go  away," 
he  explained,  ruefully. 

By  this  time  they  had  arrived 
at  the  low,  grassy  knoll  from 
which  drives  were  made  for 
hole  number  one. 

*'Will  you  lead  off,  please. 
I  hate  to  drive  first,"  she  said. 

Stevenson's  caddy  made  a 
tee  of  sand  from  a  nearby  box,* 
and  set  up  a  ball  with  profes- 
sional care. 

Stevenson   was    about  to 
swing  his  driver  when  he  no- , 
ticed   his  companion's  father, 
Captain  H.  A.  O'Malley  R.N. 


(retired),  sauntering  across  the  course 
with  a  butterfly  net  in  his  hand. 

••Fore,"  he  shouted. 

Miss  O'Malley  smiled. 

••  I  think  father  is  quite  safe,"  she 
said. 

•*  Fore,"  shouted  Stevenson  again. 

The  burly  old  sailor  turned  and  wav- 
ed his  hand  frivolously. 

••  Slam  away,  me  lad;  I'm  out  of 
range  of  your  guns,"  he  hailed. 

••I  believe  he's  right," laughed  Stev- 
enson.    He  looked  at  the  teed  ball. 

•*  I  may  as  well  try  a  Royal  Scotch 
High  Flyer — something  new  in  golf 
balls,"  he  remarked. 

The  ordinary  ball  was  replaced  with 
the  new  and  expensive  one.  Then  he 
swung  his  club  and  made  the  drive  of 


**Why  are  you  so  frightfully  down  on  me?' 
in  guarded  tones. 


he  asked 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


his  life.     Smack!     Away  it  sailed,  like  tried  to  lift  the  fallen  one  to  his  feet, 

a    flying- fish    before   the  wind.     The  *•  Hands  off,  you  lubber,"  cried  old 

caddies  followed  it  with  open  mouths  O'Malley. 

as  well  as  eyes.  The    unfortunate   golfer  ceased  his 

**  Splendid,"  exclaimed  Miss  O'Mal-  efforts, 

ley.  •'Father,  are    you    hurt?"   panted 

Just    then    old    Captain    O'Malley  Kate. 

R.N.  hurled  his  butterfly  net  in  the  •*  Hurt,"  roared  her  father,  rolling 

air  and  leaped  after  it.  over  and  glaring  at  her.     **  Why,  the 


''Father,   are  you   hurt?"   panted   Kate. 


•*  Gee!  you've  swiped  'im,"  cried 
Pete,  gleefully. 

'*Good  heavens!'*  exclaimed  Steven- 
son, letting  his  driver  slip  from  his 
fingers. 

They  all  dashed  toward  the  now 
prostrate  and  furiously  cursing  cap- 
tain. Stevenson  led  easily.  Miss 
O'Malley  and  the  caddies  were  bunched 
for  second  money.  Stevenson,  aghast 
with  fear  and  trembling  with  remorse, 


d ball  went  right  through  me." 

'•  Gee!  I  guess  it  didn't  puncture  his 
lung,"  remarked  Pete,  softly. 

**  I  don't  see  no  hole,"  said  Jim — 
"and  here's  de  ball."  He  picked  it 
up.    The  girl  extended  her  hand  for  it 

**  Do  you  think  you  are  really  hurt, 
sir  ?"  enquired  Stevenson,  approaching 
cautiously. 

**  What's  that?"  cried  the  captain. 
"What's  that  you  say?     Do  I  think 


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I  am  really  hurt — you  fresh-water  jok- 
er! Give  me  a  hand  up,  Kate,  and  Til 
show  the  young  cock  if  I'm  to  be  made 
a  fool  of  by  every  derrick- legged  poet 
who  chooses  to  run  around  after  my 
daughter." 

*•  Father,  how  dare  you!"  cried  Miss 
O'Malley. 

The  old  man  scrambled  to  his  feet 
and  began  to  rub  the  calf  of  his  left 

leg. 

''  It'll  be  black  and  blue,"  he  mut- 
tered. 

Miss  O'Malley  burst  into  peals  of 
laughter,  and  hid  her  facfe  in  her 
hands. 

Sydney  Stevenson's  amazement  and 
remorse  gave  way  to  white  hot  anger. 
He  strode  toward  the  old  man.  ''You 
old  bounder,"  he  cried.  Then,  with 
equal  abruptness,  he  turned  his  back 
CD  the  little  group  and  left  the  links. 
His  brain  was  in  a  whirl.  He  had  not 
known  that  anyone  in  the  world  could 
be  so  boorish. .  And  Kate  ? — Kate  had 
laughed  when  her  father  had  insulted 
him. 

II 

For  days  the  dejected  poet  kept 
away  from  the  golf  course  as  he  would 
from  a  lazaretto.  One  evening,  while 
he  was  busily  engaged  with  his  pipe 
and  a  number  of  ideas  that  refused  to 
allow  themselves  to  be  turned  into 
verse,  the  maid  rapped  at  his  study 
door  and  announced  Captain  O'Malley. 

"Tell  him  I'm  out,"  said  Stevenson; 
but  before  the  maid  could  turn  around 
the  captain  himself  pushed  past  her  and 
shut  the  door  in  her  face. 

"  Me  boy,"  began  the  old  sailor, 
nervously,  **  I'm  very  sorry  for  what 
happened  on  the  links  the  other  day. 
Kate  made  me  promise  to  drop  in — 
that  is,  I  decided  the  right  thing  for 
me  to  do  was  to  call  and  beg  your  par- 
don." 

"  It  is  granted,  sir,"  said  Stevenson, 
coldly. 

**  I'll  just  sit  down  for  a  minute," 
said  O'Malley.  *  *  Two  flights  of  stairs 
always  puff  me." 

The  young  man  pushed  his  easiest 
chair  toward  his  visitor. 


The  captain  sat  down,  sighed,  and 
lit  his  pipe.  After  blowing  a  few  medi- 
tative clouds  toward  the  ceiling,  he 
turned  and  fixed  an  unwinking  eye 
upon  his  host.  He  seemed  calmer. 
In  level  tones  he  began:  **I  don't 
want  you  to  imagine,  me  boy,  that 
under  ordinary  circumstances  I'd  beg 
your  pardon  for  what  I  said — no  sir,  a 
smash  with  a  golf  ball  is  not  to  be 
lightly  overlooked — but  me  daughter 
has  told  me  all,  and  that  put  a  very 
different  face  on  the  matter." 

'  *  Yes,  it  was  a  new  kind  of  golf 
ball — a  regular  flyer,"  said  Stevenson. 

The  captain  stared.  ''  But,  I  think, 
Mr.  Stevenson,  I  should  have  heard 
something  of  it  from  you,"  he  con- 
tinued. 

It  was  now  the  poet's  turn  to  stare. 

**  Well!"  cried  the  captain,  begin- 
ning to  work  himself  into  a  rage — 
**  What  the  devil  are  you  glaring  at? 
— ^you  look  as  if  you  didn't  know  that 
you  are  engaged  to  marry  my  daugh- 
ter." 

Stevenson's  face  flashed  to  a  danger- 
ous shade  of  gray.  He  sank  into  the 
nearest  chair.  O'Malley  rushed  to  a 
side  table  and  grabbed  a  decanter  of 
Scotch  whiskey.  Having  swallowed 
about  half  a  glass  of  the  raw  liquor,. 
Stevenson  looked  better.* 

''  I  intended  speaking  to  you  last 
Monday,  sir,"  he  said,  steadily,  "  but 
the  unfortunate  accident — " 

*  *  Exactly — don't  apologize,  me  boy,"" 
interrupted  the  captain.  He  found 
another  glass  on  the  table.  "  I'll  just 
take  a  wee  nip  meself,'*  he  said.  Then 
he  seemed  to  remember  something, 
and  putting  down  the  glass  took  a  note 
from  his  pocket.  He  tossed  it  to 
Stevenson.  **  Something  from  Kate," 
he  said. 

The  poet  tore  it  open  with  eager 
fingers.     Thus  it  ran: 

**Dear  Sydney, 

I  hope  I  have  not  spoiled  your  plans.  I 
always  intended  to  marry  a  brave  man,  and 
you  are  surely  the  bravest  in  the  world.  You 
called  father  a  bounder,  and  I  have  seen  him 
brow-beat  admirals  and  frighten  staff-lieuten- 
ants into  hysterics.  Besides  this,  I  love  you. 
Bring  father  home  with  you. 

Kate." 


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A  S  phaniom  li|^ht  -fuffut^s  dim  the  rcut, 

Precursiiig  dawn— nowr  subtle  radiance  tcHi 
Thro'  h«r  cktp  cy«  the  laug-hter  near.      Where  dwellsi 
Each  captive  ditnpL',  'tJi  to  jo)>''  releaitt ; 
In  lovely  ErDund»  ne'er  loud  Ebo"  itwift  iiiirrcait. 
Her  laug^hter  bubbles  forth,  all  mirthful  welli 
To  one  sweet  chime,  like  peal  of  ellin  bells. 
That  th rails  vith  tinglini:  pleafliirL.^  till  'tis  ceait. 
I  lo-ve  her  laugh.     *Tis  lavish 'd  round  my  aouI 
Like  lome  strange  holy  baLin — doth  e'er  a  dream 
Of  bleak  depresaton  grip  me^  swift  ihe  gleam 
Ot  that  dear  laughter  than>es  my  useles.<i  dole. 
Our  world  necf  laughsi  enough ;  from  him,  I  deem, 
That  scorns  to  Uuffh,  takes  grief  a  Inble  toll. 


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THE    PEDDLER'S    LIFT 

By  /.    W.  FULLER,   author  of  ''Isolda'' 


ENRY  GIBSON  was  hum- 
ming  some  sort  of  tune  as 
his  old  mare  jogged  along 
at  a  slow,  steady  gait — not 
a  joyous  note,  but  a  dull, 
monotonous  drone;  audible  expression 
of  the  low  ebb  to  which  his  spirits  had 
fallen.  Why  he  hummed  at  all  he 
could  scarcely  have  told;  it  had  become 
a  habit  during  the  many  years  of  his 
lonely  journeyings  up  and  down  the 
concession  lines  of  a  half-dozen  town- 


In  rhythm  his  measures  showed  but 
scant  variation,  but  the  pitch  of  his 
voice  was  an  infallible  register  of  his 
frame  of  mind,  and  of  late  this  dull 
monotone  had  become,  alas,  all  too 
much  in  evidence. 

"Afternoon,  Hank  I"  called  a  pass- 
ing pedestrian,  cheerily. 

**  Why,  how  do,  Mr.  Jacques?"  re- 
turned Henry,  pulling  up  with  a  start, 
*'I  declare  I  didn't  see  you  coming 
along.     How's  all  the  folk  ?" 

''Nicely,  thank  you.  Goin'  to  stop 
at  the  house  ?" 

'•Well,  yes.  Got  a  nice  bit  o*  print 
here,  I  think  the  Missus'll  like." 

"Don't  think  it's  much  use.  She 
and  the  girls  was  up  to  town  on  Tues- 
day and  fetched  home  a  pile  of  stuff." 

"Oh,  ril  stop  anyhow.  Maybe 
there's  something  they  forgot,"  and 
the  old  man's  spirits  sank  a  notch  low- 
er as  he  gathered  up  the  reins  and  call- 
ed to  the  mare  to  "  get  up." 

Throughout  that  whole  section  of 
country  there  was  no  more  familiar 
figure  than  Henry  Gibson,  peddler, 
and,  with  the  majority  of  the  people, 
none  more  welcome,  though  of  late 
years  there  had  been  a  waning  in 
his  popularity — a  change  which  poor 
Henry  had  too  much  cause  to  fail  to 
note. 

Twenty  years  ago  his  advent  at  a 
farmhouse  was  quite  an  exciting  event. 
The  women  folk  suspended  their  tasks 
to  give  attention  to  his  wares,  and  the 


children  stood  as  close  as  they  dared, 
in  an  ecstacy  of  open-eyed  wonder  and 
delight  at  the  beauty  and  variety  of  the 
goods  and  trinkets  he  displayed,  while 
even  the  men,  if  they  noticed  his  ar- 
rival, thought  nothing  of  quitting  their 
work  in  the  fields  and  joining  the  circle 
to  appraise  his  stock  and  listen  to  the 
latest  news  from  town  and  the  world 
at  large. 

But  now  there  was  a  decided  differ- 
ence. His  reception,  though  friendly 
as  of  yore,  was  marked  more  by  care- 
less good  nature  than  the  eager  cor- 
diality of  days  agone;  and  open  criti- 
cism or  disparagement  of  his  goods 
took  the  place  of  the  respectful  hear- 
ing formerly  accorded  him. 

''  I  saw  better  and  cheaper  than  that 
in  town  the  other  day,"  or  kindred  re- 
mark, was  what  he  was  now  forced  to 
listen  to  almost  daily,  and  he  dared 
not  challenge  the  accuracy  of  the  state- 
ments. An  hour  later,  he  was  driving 
away  from  the  Jacques  farmhouse,  his 
purse  just  fifteen  cents  richer,  and  his 
stock  lighter  by  but  a  yard  of  ribbon. 

"That  print's  last  season's  style; 
and  the  girls  wouldn't  hear  to  my  mak- 
ing any  use  of  it,"  had  been  the  verdict. 

True,  he  had  had  a  good  dinner,  for 
the  hospitality  of  his  customers  had  not 
waned,  but  for  all  that  Gibson's  spirits 
were  considerably  lower  than  when 
Jacques  had  accosted  him  upon  the 
road. 

A  trolley  car  whisked  by  the  foot  of 
the  hill  he  was  about  to  descend. 

"A  plague  upon  the  pesky  things  ! 
I  wish  the  man  that  made  'em  had 
never  been  born  !"  he  exclaimed;  for  he 
shrewdly  lay  the  responsibility  for  his 
ever-declining  fortunes  at  the  door  of 
the  radial  roads  now  intersecting  the 
country. 

"Never  mind,  Henry,"  his  faithful 
life  partner  had  counselled,  again  and 
again,  "the  folk  will  soon  get  over  the 
newness  of  it,  and  won't  spend  so 
much   time   travelling   to   town;  then 


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you'll  be  able  to  sell  as  much  as  ever." 

But  she  had  not  proven  a  true 
prophetess,  and  matters  were  drifting 
from  bad  to  worse. 

A  mental  vision  now  rose  before  him 
of  the  good  old  soul,  as  he  had  last 
seen  her — the  rays  of  the  early  morn- 
ing sun  glancing  upon  her  whitening 
hair  and  seeming  to  shed  a  radiance 
about  the  reposeful,  trusting  face,  as 
she  bade  him  a  cheery  farewell. 

**  Never  fear,  Henry  I  The  Lord 
will  provide.  I  keep  praying  about  it, 
and  Tm  hoping  this  week'U  see  the 
turn.  He'll  never  forsake  us;  remem- 
ber that  !" 

Henry  tried  to  remember,  but  he 
found  it  hard  to  equal  her  faith.  That, 
or  some  kindred  sentiment  had  been 
her  Monday  morning  farewell  for  a 
long  time  now,  but  the  lane  seemed  to 
have  no  turning. 

That  morning,  however,  he  had  felt 
more  hopeful  than  usual,  and  had  set 
out  determined  to  neglect  no  effort  to 
do  a  brisk  week's  trade.  It  was  a 
glorious  October  day,  with  just  a  hint 
of  freshness  in  the  air  to  brace  one; 
and  as  he  journeyed  along  the  road 
skirting  the  river  and  drank  in  the 
gorgeous  beauty  of  the  wooded  hills, 
aflame  with  the  varied  hues  of  the 
turning  leaves,  bathed  in  the  flood  of 
gladdening  sunlight,  he  felt  his  pulses 
quicken  while  the  blood  cours.ed  more 
rapidly  through  his  veins,  and  his 
voice  grew  lusty  and  strong  as  he 
shouted  forth,  over  and  over  again, 
several  bars  oJf  an  ancient  ditty. 

But  it  proved  a  poor  day  for  busi- 
ness, and  was  followed  by  other  days 
equally  disheartening  until  this — Fri- 
day— morning  had  broken  dull  and 
cold  with  a  raw,  gusty  wind  blowing — 
a  wind  which  went  through  and  through 
his  thin  garments  and  quickened  into 
active  life  the  rheumatism  which  had 
lain  dormant  during  the  summer 
months.  The  sun  shone  but  dimly 
through  the  mist  of  cloud,  and  a  grey 
half-twilight  brooded  over  the  hills  and 
valleys,  as  though  in  sympathy  with 
the  peddler's  discouragement — the  en- 
tire week's  business  had  not  equalled 
a  respectable  half-day's  traffic. 


**  The  cottage'll  have  to  go,"  he  mut- 
tered to  himself  by  way  of  diversion 
from  his  cheerless  humming. 

•*  Either  that,  or  we  call  on  Freddie," 
he  continued.  ''  I'd  rather  go  on  the 
county  though  !■ — for  myself,  certain — 
but  then  there's  mother !"  and  again 
the  vision  of  that  sweet,  patient  face, 
with  its  fringe  of  grey  locks  rose  be- 
fore him. 

Their  son  Fred  was  a  rising  physi- 
cian in  the  West.  It  had  been  a  long, 
hard  struggle  for  the  worthy  couple  to 
keep  the  boy  at  school  and  send  him  to 
college;  but  when  they  had  journeyed 
to  Toronto — their  first  visit  to  the  pro- 
vincial capital — and  saw  their  boy  re- 
ceive his  degree,  they  felt  well  repaid 
for  all  their  self-denial.  The  calls  upon 
the  slender  purse  did  not,  however, 
cease  yet,  but  continued  several  years 
longer  ere  the  youthful  practitioner 
could  work  his  way  into  the  enjoyment 
of  a  modest  income. 

It  was  during  this  latter  period  that 
the  mortgage  had  been  placed  upon 
their  humble  home — an  expedient 
which  they  mutually  agreed  must 
never  be  revealed  to  Fred.  Once 
placed,  it  had  never  been  removed,  the 
payment  of  the  interest  demanding  all 
their  ingenuity,  until  now  it  appeared 
impossible  for  them  to  longer  provide 
even  that;  and  the  dread  of  foreclosure 
had  become  a  veritable  waking  night- 
mare. 

The  evening  shadows  were  beg^in- 
ning  to  close  in. 

'^  Guess  I'll  put  up  for  the  night  at 
Turner's,"  mused  the  old  man,  as  he 
approached  a  large  farmhouse  of  con- 
siderable pretensions,  glistening  in  all 
the  glory  of  a  recent  coat  of  paint. 
"  There's  no  use  travelling  farther  to- 
day, and  I  can  make  town  by  to-morrow 
night  all  right." 

**  Who's  that  ?"  queried  a  feminine 
voice  from  the  dusky  interior,  as  he 
pushed  open  the  kitchen  door  after 
rapping  upon  it  with  the  butt  of  his 
whip. 

''Peddler  Gibson,"  called  back  the 
fourteen-year-old  boy  who  confronted 
him. 

**  Tell  him  we  don't  want  anything-," 


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the  hidden  voice  responded.  '*  Nothing 
at  all,"  with  added  emphasis. 

**  But  I  thought  of  stopping  over 
night,  Miss  Phoebe/'  expostulated 
Heory,  thinking  it  about  time  he  as- 
serted himself. 

'*  We  can't  put  you  up,  Mr.  Gib- 
son," came  the  decided  reply.  **  We 
had  more  company  than  we  wanted 
last  night;  and  they  carried  off  what 
they  didn't  bring.  Peddlers  and  thieves 
— '  birds  of  a  feather  flock  together,'  " 
was  added  in  a  lower  key,  but  evident- 
ly intended  for  his  ears. 

Gibson  winced. 

*' Where's  your  pa,  Jamie?**"  he 
queried  of  the  boy. 

^'Heand  Jack  and  Joe  are  all  out 
hunting  for  the  burglars.  We  don't 
know  when  they'll  be  back." 

**  What  burglars?" 

**  Didn't  you  hear? — a  couple  of  fel- 
low came  here  last  night,  and  asked 
to  stop.  Dad  took  them  in,  but  this 
morning  they  were  gone  with  over  a 
hundred  dollars  he  got  for  a  horse  yes- 
terday, and  all  the  old  silverware. 
That's  what's  up  with  Sis,"  he  added 
confidentially.  ''She's  awful  mad  about 
the  silver,  'cause  she  was  counting  big 
on  showing  it  off  at  her  wedding  next 
week." 

**Stop  your  talking  and  shut  that 
door,  Jim,"  commanded  the  inner  voice 
in  threatening  tones,  as  Gibson  turned 
wearily  away. 

If  he  waited  for  Mr.  Turner  he  knew 
that  he  could  be  sure  of  a  cordial  wel- 
come; but  he  had  no  desire  to  remain 
after  the  daughter's  gratuitous  insult. 
He  had  offended  Miss  Phoebe  when  she 
was  yet  but  a  half-grown  girl,  by  per- 
suading her  mother  to  buy  her  a  piece 
of  dress  goods,  which  she  had  declared 
frightfully  ugly,  and  which  once  pur- 
chased she  had  been  compelled  to  wear 
despite  all  protests. 

A  jog  of  two  or  three  miles  further 
down  the  road  would  bring  him  to  the 
Walker's,  who,  he  knew,  would  be 
glad  to  see  him;  so,  although  both  he 
and  his  old  mare  were  ready  to  rest, 
he  gathered  up  the  reins  and  continued 
his  journey  in  the  gathering  dusk. 

A  few  hundred  yards  east   of  the 


Walker  place  the  road  ran  through  a 
thickly  wooded  hollow,  where  the 
overhanging  trees  effectively  shut  out 
what  little  daylight  remained,  and 
shrouded  the  highway  in  deep  gloom. 
When  about  half-way  through  this 
copse  his  steady-going  mare  sudden- 
ly shied,  then  stood  trembling  uneas- 
ily, and  Henry  became  conscious  that 
someone  was  holding  her  head. 

''Hello!  What  d'you  want?"  he 
demanded  somewhat  shakily,  peering 
into  the  darkness. 

"  We  want  a  lift,"  came  the  reply.   , 

"Sorry  I  can't  accommodate  you; 
but  I'm  putting  up  for  the  night  at 
the  next  house." 

"Oh,  I  guess  you  can  strain  a 
point,  and  keep  right  on.  We've  a 
pressing  engagement  on  the  other  side 
of  the  line,  and  must  make  the  river 
by  morning." 

This  was  a  different  voice,  and  the 
peddler  could  now  make  out  two 
shadowy  figures  looming  up  bulkily 
upon  the  right  of  the  roadway. 

"  I  really  couldn't  think  of  it,  gen- 
tlemen," he  protested.  "  Neither  the 
mare  nor  I  have  had  a  bite  since  noon, 
and  we're  about  played  out." 

"We're  not  asking  you  to  make 
record  time,"  returned  the  first  voice, 
"  but  we've  got  to  have  a  lift,"  and 
something  in  his  hand  clicked  omin- 
ously as  he  drew  closer.  "Yes;  and 
we're  quite  willing  to  return  the  com- 
pliment by  '  lifting'  something  for 
you,"  chimed  in  the  second  voice  in 
mocking  accents. 

"  Climb  in  theo,"  retorted  Gibson 
ungraciously  enough. 

"  Thank  you!  and  we've  a  parcel 
here  we'll  just  drop  into  your  wag- 
gon," and  as  what  looked  like  a  good- 
sized  clothes-basket  struck  the  floor  of 
the  cart  it  gave  forth  an  unmistakable 
metallic  jingle. 

"Guess  we'll  just  crawl  in  here 
alongside  ourselves.  This  topll  keep 
off  the  night  air — and,  by-the-way, 
friend,  you  needn't  stop  to  introduce 
us  to  anyone  you  meet,"  quoth  he 
of  the  mocking  voice. 

For  several  hours  they  jogged  along 
in  silence.     Gibson's  teeth  were  chat- 


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tering  with  the  cold,  and  he  shook  as 
though  an  ague  had  come  upon  him; 
but  withal,  his  chief  concern  was  for 
his  old  mare,  who  was  being  called 
upon  for  such  heavy  work  upon  short 
rations.  Twice  they  met  other  vehi- 
cles, and  each  time  the  old  man  felt 
something  cold  and  hard  pressed 
against  his  back,  and  again  heard  that 
ominous  click.  The  hint  was  suffici- 
ent, and  he  continued  steadily  on  his 
way  with  a  terse  **  How  do  ?"  in  pass- 
ing. 

Just  before  dawn  they  encountered 
leveral  mounted  men,  whose  leader 
peremptorily  called  upon  Gibson  to 
stop,  and  pressing  forward,  revealed 
himself  as  the  county  constable. 

•*  Now,  rU  get  rid  of  these  gentry!" 
thought  the  peddler;  but  on  the  instant 
he  again  felt  that  suggestive  coldness 
in  the  back,  and  a  voice  hissed  in  his 
ear: 

*•  ril  kill  you,  if  you  give  us  away!" 

'*  Oh,  it's  you  Hank!"  the  constable 
greeted.  '*  Didn't  know  you  kept  the 
road  both  night  and  dsiy." 

*•  No  more  I  do;  but  I  had  to  put 
on  an  extra  spurt  to-night.  Didn't  see 
any  burglars  along  the  road  ?  " 

At  this  question  Henry  received  such 
a  vicious  dig  in  the  ribs  as  to  cause 
him  almost  to  cry  aloud. 

'*  Burglars  !  "  he  exclaimed,  '*  I 
wasn't  looking  for  any;  and  I  don't 
suppose  they'd  think  my  truck  worth 
taking,  if  I  did  run  across  them. 
Where've  they  been?" 

**A  couple  went  through  Turner's 
place  night  before  last.  We  thought 
they'd  made  the  river  and  cut  across, 
but  couldn't  find  any  trace;  so  we're 
doubling  back.  Seen  any  suspicious 
characters  ?" 

' '  I  did  see  a  couple  of  stranger  fel- 
lows with  a  basket  some  miles  back." 

A  muttered  oath  from  behind  reach- 
ed Henry's  ear',  and  the  pistol  was 
pressed  more  firmly  to  his  back. 

**  The  very  pair!"  exclaimed  the  con- 
stable. "Turner  said  they'd  taken  a 
basket  to  carry  the  stuff.  How  far 
back  ?" 

**  Put  'em  off  the  scent!"  was  hissed 
into  Gibson's  ear. 


''In  the  wood,  a  mile  this  side  of 
Turner's.  They  wanted  me  to  give 
'em  a  lift;  but  I  said  I  guessed  I'd 
stop  at  Walker's." 

"Cheeky  fellows  to  hang  around 
that  close!  Glad  to  hear  it  though. 
We're  sure  to  get  'em  yet.  Come  on, 
boys!"  and  the  party  clattered  off. 

Gibson  was  loath  to  see  them  go, 
and  heartily  wished  he  had  had  the 
courage  to  say:  **  Here's  your  men, 
constable!"  but  the  close  proximity  of 
that  suggestive  pistol  had  overbal- 
anced all  other  considerations. 

For  another  half  hour  they  plodded 
steadily  along.  Suddenly  there  was  a 
fusilade  of  oaths  from  beneath  the 
cover  behind  him. 

"  Wake  that  beast  up,  old  man;  and 
drive  for  all  your  worth!" 

The  peddler  turned  to  see  what  had 
caused  this  outbreak. 

The  sun  was  now  up  above  the  east- 
ern horizon;  but  his  rays  failed  to 
pierce  ^the  thick  mist  which  enveloped 
the  earth,  hiding  all  but  nearby  ob- 
jects, and  distorting  these  into  fantas- 
tic shapes.  On  the  crest  of  a  consid- 
erable hill  they  had  just  descended, 
several  moving  figures  were  silhouet- 
ted against  the  eastern  sky;  these  by 
their  actions  were  evidently  in  pursuit 
of  the  peddler's  cart. 

••  They've  caught  on  and  are  com- 
ing back!"  declared  one  of  his  passen- 
gers. "  Whip  up  your  old  nag  and 
make  her  travel." 

"Get  up,  Nancy!"  called  Henry. 

"Whip  her  up,  I  say!  Here,  give 
me  the  whip,  and  I'll  lash  some  life 
into  her!" 

"  Get  up,  Nancy!"  repeated  the  ped- 
dler. 

"Do  you  hear?  Get  out  your  whip!" 
the  fellow  shouted  in  his  ear,  and 
prodded  him  viciously  with  his  pistol. 

The  worm  will  turn.  Gibson's  heart 
had  been  full  of  sympathy  for  the  old 
mare  who  had  carried  him  so  faithfully 
in  all  sorts  of  weather  for  so  many 
years ;  and  the  suggestion  that  he 
should  still  abuse  her  rendered  him 
desperate. 

"  See  here!"  he  shouted,  turning 
and  facing  his  tormentor,  "I'm  get- 


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73 


ing  all  the  travel  out  of  this  beast  there 
is  in  her,  and  she'll  give  me  more  speed 
for  the  asking  than  all  the  lashing  you 
could  do  would  whip  out  of  her.  Keep 
quiet  and  Til  do  my  best;  but  say  any 
more  about  the  whip  and  TU  pull  her 
up  short,  and  you  can  shoot  all  you 
like!     Understand  ?'' 

'*  Well,  ril  be !"  exclaimed  the 

astonished  desperado,  ''  if  the  fool 
doesn't  think  more  of  that  bag  of  bones 
than  he  does  of  his  own  carcass! — 
Well,  go  it  your  own  way,"  he  added, 
but  make  her  travel." 

The  old  man  pulled  on  the  reins 
with  his  benumbed  hands. 

'*Git  along  there,  Nancy!  Git 
along,  my  beauty!" 

The  mare  stepped  out  gallantly,  but 
the  day  and  night  of  toil  had  been  poor 
preparation  for  this  extra  effort. 

**  Move  along,  Nancy!  Move  along!" 

**Make  her  do  better  than  that!'' 
called  a  hateful  voice  from  behind. 

**You  shut  up!"  Gibson  retorted 
politely,  without  turning  his  head,  and 
coDtinued  to  call  encouragingly  to  his 
beast.  He  had  no  desire  to  be  over- 
taken by  the  constable  and  his  posse, 
for  he  felt  that  he  was  in  a  compromis- 
ing position,  the  simple  explanation 
ot  which  might  not  be  readily  accepted; 
and  the  cruel  gibe  of  Turner's  girl  re- 
curred to  his  mfnd  with  added  bitter- 
ness. 

On  went  the  mare,  with  the  cart  be- 
hind rattling  and  bumping  over  the 
hard  road.  Soon  they  approached  the 
outskirts  of  the  town. 

**  Down  toward  the  river!"  ordered 
the  voice  behind,  as  they  came  to  a 
fork  in  the  road;  and  Gibson  dared  not 
disobey.  Presently  they  passed  to  the 
rear  of  his  own  cottage,  from  the 
chimney  of  which  a  dim  smoke  was 
curling,  indicating  that  the  thrifty 
Martha  was  already  astir —  intent, 
doubtless,  on  preparations  for  the  ex- 
pected homecoming  of  her  spouse  that 
evening. 

The  houses  were  closer  together 
now,  and  ere  long  t;hey  were  within  the 
town  limits,  and  making  turn  after 
turn  in  and  out  of  the  various  streets 
in  zigzag  fashion,  at  the  dictation  of 


that  imperative  voice,  but  ever  draw- 
ing closer  to  the  river,  beyond  which 
lay  safety. 

They  were  crossing  the  head  of  a 
wide  street  leading  toward  the  centre 
of  the  town,  when  Henry  came  to  a 
sudden  bold  determination.  He  had 
resented  the  high-handed  proceedings 
of  his  self-invited  companions;  but  the 
cruel  strain  put  upon  his  faithful  old 
mare  hurt  him  much  more  than  the 
indignities  heaped  upon  himself,  and 
he  was  very  loath  that  such  inhuman- 
ity should  go  unpunished. 

''Get  down  out  of  sight  there, 
quick!"  he  called,  himself  suiting  the 
action  to  the  word  by  ducking  his 
head;  but  at  the  same  moment  he 
kicked  viciously  at  an  iron  lever  upon 
the  cart  floor. 

Some  years  ago,  Gibson,  who  was 
quite  a  genius  in  his  way,  had  contriv- 
ed an  arrangement  for  contracting  the 
canvas  top  of  his  waggon,  and  secure- 
ly fastening  the  framework  upon  all 
sides — this  for  protection  when  leaving 
it,  as  he  was  often  forced  to  do,  with 
his  stock  in  trade  in  some  open  shed 
for  the  night.  The  lever  beneath  the 
seat  operated  this  mechanism. 

There  was  a  crash  and  a  medley  of 
muffled  oaths  from  beneath  the  canvas 
covering,  as  Henry  sharply  swerved 
the  mare  into  the  wide  street,  jolting 
the  wheels  over  the  curbing  by  the 
shortness  of  the  turn.  The  old  man 
rose  from  the  seat,  and  stood  swaying 
unsteadily  upon  benumbed  and  stiffen- 
ed limbs,  shouting  hysterically  to  his 
mare: 

*•  Git  along,  Nancy  !  Do  your  pret- 
tiest, girl  !  Help  the  old  man  win  ! 
Keep  it  up  just  a  little  bit  longer ! 
We'll  soon  get  rid  of  our  gay  com- 
pany !     Up,  you  old  darling,  up  !" 

The  wheels  rattled  over  the  stones  of 
the  roadway;  dogs  barked;  half-grown 
boys  yelled  in  derision  at  the  dilapidat- 
ed-looking outfit  and  its  ungainly  driv- 
er, while  continuous  cursing,  vicious 
kicking,  rending  of  canvas,  and  even  a 
stray  shot  from  beneath  the  covering, 
added  to  the  din. 

Men  and  women  thrust  startled  and 
wondering  faces  out  of  windows  and 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


doorways;  children  screamed  and 
scampered  to  see;  drivers  of  other 
vehicles  turned  hastily  aside;  a  pomp- 
ous guardian  of  the  peace  called  auth- 
oritatively but  unavailingly  to  him  to 
stop.  Surely,  no  such  commotion  had 
been  created  in  a  quiet,  law-abiding 
town  since  John  Gilpin  took  his  famous 
ride  ! 

Gibson  drove  on  wildly,  encouraging 
the  mare  by  every  device  he  could  con- 
ceive of,  expecting  each  instant  to  be 
felled  or  shot  from  behind.  He  could 
hear  the  light  framework  splintering, 
and  knew  that  at  best  it  could  be  but  a 
few  moments  ere  his  prisoners  were 
free — and  then  ? — 

But  he  kept  on,  and  just  as  a  sting- 
ing blow  caught  him  beneath  t^e  jaw, 
pulled  up  at  the  police  station.  Sev- 
eral officers  rushed  forth  to  investigate 
the  hubbub  and  secured  the  two  scoun- 
drels, who  were  throwing  themselves 
upon  the  old  man  with  murderous 
intent. 

CoM,  dazed,  bruised  and  filled  with 
despair  as  he  contemplated  the  ruin  of 
his  cart  and  the  general  wreckage  of 
his  modest  stock,  Henry  Gibson  turn* 
ed  into  the  station,  but  paid  scant  at- 
tention to  the  proceedings  before  the 
desk  sergeant.  He  took  but  little  in- 
terest even  when  the  contents  of  the 
basket  were  turned  out,  disclosing  the 
entire  collection  of  ancient  silverware 
the  Turners  were  so  proud  of.  Look- 
ing listlessly  about  the  room,  his  eye 
caught  a  placard  upon  the  wall,  on 
which  the  printer's  ink  seemed  scarcely 
dried.  He  read  it  through  mechanic- 
ally, not  grasping  the  purport  of  it. 
The  signature,  however,  arrested  his 
attention  and  recalled  his  wandering 
faculties. 

He  read  it  through  again,  then  ques- 
tioned the  officer  at  his  elbow: 


''Tell  me,  constable,  do  I  get  that?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know  why  you 
shouldn't  I"  returned  the  other,  heart- 
ily. "  Here's  the  burglars,  and  here's 
the  silver,  for  the  return  of  which  and 
the  conviction  of  the  thieves  John 
Turner  offers  a  reward  of  $i,ooo. 
You're  in  luck.  Hank  !" 

The  old  man  felt  a  sudden  weakness. 
He  sat  down  quickly,  while  thoughts 
of  a  cancelled  mortgage,  replenished 
stock,  and — sweet  morsel !  —  a  full 
apology  from  Turner's  daughter  flash- 
ed through  his  brain,  while  before  his 
mental  vision  again  arose  the  picture 
of  the  serene,  calm,  confident  face  of 
Martha,  his  wife,  as  she  had  stood 
upon  the  Monday  morning  and  bidden 
him  go  forth  in  the  assurance  that  the 
.  Master  would  care  for  them. 

When  the  examination  was  over,  he 
walked  out  dreamily.  As  he  reached 
the  sidewalk,  three  tall  figures  astride 
ungainly  plough  horses  came  down  the 
street. 

"  Hello,  Hank  !"  shouted  Will  Nor- 
ris,  pulling  up,  while  his  two  lank  sons 
continued  on  their  way.  "You're 
making  quick  time  this  week,  aren't 
you?  Me  and  the  boys  thought 
'twas  your  cart  ahead  of  us  a  bit  back 
on  the  road  and  tried  to  catch  you  up, 
but  you  was  going  too  lively.  There's 
mettle  in  that  old  nag,  of  yourn  yet ! 
The  Missus  was  speaking  of  a  bit  of 
linen  you  promised  to  bring  her  this 
week.  Keep  it  in  mind.  Hank.  We're 
making  to  haul  timber  this  mornin',  so 
I  can't  stop  no  longer." 

"Yes,"  whispered  Henry  to  his 
mare,  as  he  rubbed  his  cheek  against 
her  muzzle,  lovingly,  "one  of  them 
fellows  said  they'd  like  to  lift  some- 
thing for  me,  but  I  didn't  think  it'd 
be  the  mortgage  —  guess  he  didn't 
either ! " 


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DURING  the  past  month  the  people 
of  Great  Britain  have  lost  another 
of  the  prominent  men  of  the  Victorian 
era.  The  Duke  of  Cambridge,  who 
died  on  the  17th  of  March  in  his  85th 
year,  was  one  of  the  connecting  links 
with  the  days  in  which  Queen  Victoria 
began  to  rule  the  destinies  of  Greater 
Britain.  He  may  not  have  been  a 
military  genius  either  in  administration 
or  on  the  field  of  battle,  but  he  had 
mixed  so  long  with  the  army  and  had 
seen  so  many  generations  of  it  come 
and  go  that  he  was  regarded  through- 
out the  Empire  as  **The  Grand  Old 
Man  of  the  service." 

Lord  Wolseley  in  his  recent  work 
wrote  of  the  Duke  as  follows:  '*l  liked 
him  more  and  more  the  better  I  knew 
him.  Indeed  no  one  who  served  for  so 
many  years  on  his  staff  could  fail  to 
love  his  amiable  qualities  or  admire  his 
manliness  of  feeling.  His  honesty  of 
purpose,  loyalty  to  the  army,  devotion 
to  duty,  sincere  patriotism  and  great 
attachment  to  his  Queen  and  country 
pervaded  all  he  did." 

In  fact,  without  overdrawing  the 
picture  very  much,  one  might  compare 
him  with  the  admirals  and  generals 
who  gave  such  honourable  and  devot- 
ed allegiance  to  Queen 
Elizabeth  at  a  time 
when  chivalry  and 
romance  were  more 
popular.  At  the  ser- 
vice in  the  Abbey  on 
March  22nd  the  con- 
gregation included  the 
King  and  Queen,  the 
Prince  and  Princess  of 
Wales,  Duke  of  Con- 
naught  and  other 
members  of  the  royal 
family.  The  eighteen 
pallbearers      included 


five  field-marshals  and  several  general 
oflScers.  From  the  Abbey  the  proces- 
sion took  its  way  to  Kensal  Green 
Cemetery,  the  King  following  as  the 
chief  mourner.  In  this  quiet  resting 
place  the  remains  of  the  Duke  were 
laid  in  a  private  mausoleum  beside 
those  of  his  wife,  although  one  would 
have  naturally  expected  that  they 
should  be  placed  in  Westminster  be- 
side those  of  the  other  great  men  of 
the  nation. 

The  present  British  House  of  Com- 
mons is  breaking  up  into  new  groups 
and  new  parties.  It  is  only  a  matter 
of  time  until  the  members  have  so  re- 
arranged themselves  that  a  new  Gov- 
ernment will  be  necessary.  One  of  the 
first  points  to  be  decided  is  who  shall 
lead  the  new  Liberal  Government. 
This  point  has  been  awaiting  decision 
since  the  death  of  Mr.  Gladstone,  and 
even  now  men  hesitate  to  express  an 
opinion.  The  following  paragraph 
from  Public  Opinion^  London,  of 
March  25th,  gives  a  somewhat  new 
point  of  view: 

**At  the  next  General  Election  the  confu- 
sion of  parties  is  likely  to  be  worse  con- 
founded by  the  attitude  of  the  Irish  National- 


GENERAL   KUROPATKIN   GOES   TO   THE   FRONT — Life 


75 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


THE  GROWTH  OF  THE  NAVIES 


IN   NINETEEN    HUNDRED  AND   UMPTY-TWO — Detroit   NewS 


ists.  Free  importers  like  the  Spectator  have 
invited  the  Liberal  Party  to  throw  over  Home 
Rule»  in  order  to  render  it  possible  for  Union- 
ist recalcitrants  to  work  with  them,  and  we 
have  had  assurances  from  various  Liberal 
quarters  that  Home  Rule,  on  Gladstone  lines, 
at  any  rate,  no  longer  forms  part  of  the  Radi- 
cal programme.  They  who  speak  thus  do 
not  reckon  with  Mr.  John  Redmond.  At  Man- 
chester, on  Sunday  last,  he  predicted  an  early 
General  Election,  and  said  the  issue  would 
not  be  decided  on  fiscal  reform,  army  reform, 
or  Chinese  labour  in  the  Transvaal.  It  would 
be  decided  by  a  body  of  men  whose  first  care 
is  to  secure  Home  Rule  for  Ireland.  Mr. 
Redmond  evidently  believes  that  the  Irishoien 
will  hold  the  balance,  and  has  determined  to 
use  his  opportunities  for  the  advancement  of 
National  aspirations.  He  hopes  that  the  next 
election  may  result  in  a  balance  between 
Radicals  and  Tories,  so  that  they  will  be 
eager  to  propose  alternative  plans  of  Home 
Rule  in  order  to  secure  the  Irish  vote." 


The  question  of  Chinese  labour  in 
South  Africa  has  been  agitating  the 
public  mind  there  and  in  Great  Britain 
for  some  time.  When  the  subject  was 
first  discussed  last  year  the  best  opin- 
ions in  South  Africa  were  against  it. 
Lord  Milner  and  those  interested  in  the 


mines  urged  it  as  a 
grave  necessity.  Peo- 
ple would  not  hear  of 
it.  However,  a  revul- 
sion of  feeling  has 
taken  place;  theTrans- 
vaal  Chamber  of  Com- 
merce  who  voted 
against  it  last  year  by 
50  to  5,  has  now  re- 
vised its  opinion  and 
advocates  it  by  a  vote 
of  61  to  II.  The 
Bishop  of  Pretoria  has 
recently  declared  that 
it  is*  the  only  solution 
of  present  difficulties. 
Lord  Milner  asserts 
that  the  introduction 
of  Chinese  labour  is 
the  one  way  to  stop 
the  present  exodus  of 
white  men  from  British 
Africa,  and  he  strong- 
ly urges  that  for  every 
10,000  coloured  la- 
bourers introduced  in- 
to the  Colony  that 
whites  will  follow  in 
time.  In  the  British 
House  of  Commons  the  subject  has 
been  hotly  debated  and  the  Opposi- 
tion proposed  a  vote  of  censure  in  the 
following  terms:  **That  this  House 
disapproves  the  conduct  of  His  Majes- 
ty's.Government  in  advising  the  Crown 
not  to  disallow  the  ordinance  for  the 
introduction  of  Chinese  labour  into  the 
Transvaal."  The  Government's  ma- 
jority was  only  57.  The  Bishop  of 
Hereford  protested  that  the  Govern- 
ment had  been  listening  to  Lord  Mil- 
ner and  the  mine  owning  interests  in- 
stead of  the  real  Africanders.  Veil  it 
as  they  might  this  ordinance  is  the 
essence  of  slavery.  Lord  Spencer 
thought  that  the  word  slavery  might 
be  an  exaggeration,  but  agreed  that 
the  conditions  were  semi-servile.  Lord 
Lansdowne  declared  that  the  regula- 
tions suit  the  requirements  of  the  Colony 
and  suit  the  Chinese  themselves,  and 
that  the  Government  is  prepared  to  ac- 
cept full  responsibility  for  its  action.  Mr. 
Lyttelton,  the  Colonial  Secretary,  point- 


10,000    more 
three    years' 


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CURRENT  EVENTS  ABROAD 


77 


ed  out  that  twenty-six 
meetings  had  been  held 
in  the  Transvaal  in  fa- 
vour of  the  new  policy 
and  only  five  or  six 
against  it.  It  was  in- 
correct to  say  that  all 
the  self-governing  Col- 
onies were  against  this 
policy.  Natal  and  Ca- 
nada had  refused  to  in- 
terfere,  recognizing 
that  this  was  a  matter 
which  concerned  the 
Transvaal  alone.  The 
Chinese  coolie  in  South 
Africa  would  do  well 
too,  because  he  would 
receive  at  least  twelve 
times  the  wages  he 
could  earn  in  his  own 
country. 

The  result  of  the 
controversy  and  of  the 
various  votes  which 
have  been  taken  would 
seem  to  be  that  the 
British  Empire  will  ac- 
quiesce in  introduc- 
ing a  species  of  contract-labour  into 
South  Africa  because  there  are  certain 
economic  difficulties  to  be  grappled 
with  which  cannot  be  met  in  any  other 
way.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  prac- 
tical experiment  will  not  be  as  obnox- 
ious as  the  theoretical  principle  in- 
volved. 

Sir  Wilfrid  Laurier,  in  his  opening 
address  to  the  Dominion  Parliament 
on  March  loth,  was  not  very  compli- 
mentary to  the  United  States,  and  de- 
clared that  it  was  not  the  purpose  of 
the  Government  to  ask  any  favours  of 
that  country.  He  boldly  asserted  that 
Canada  had  made  her  last  request  for 
fairer  trade  relations,  and  that  any 
new  negotiations  looking  toward  re- 
ciprocity must  be  initiaited  by  the  Unit- 
ed States.  In  these  sentiments  the 
Premier  undoubtedly  represents  the 
public  opinion  of  Canada,  but  he  in 
common  with  all  other  fair-minded 
men  on  both  sides  of  the  boundary 
line  must  deplore  the   foolishness  of 


FEUDAL  JAPAN   AND   MODERNIZED  JAPAN 

He  was  handsomer  in  his  old  time  clothes,  and  we  were 
far  happier" — Intransigeant  (Paris) 


the  situation.  Perhaps,  after  the  Presi- 
dential elections  which  are  to  be  held 
in  November,  those  who  favour  reci- 
procity will  be  able  to  speak  out  more 
boldly. 

The  Russo-Japanese  war,  which 
started  out  with  such  a  rush  and  with 
such  great  promise  of  victory  for  the 
Japanese,  has  dragged  on  for  two 
months  without  any  great  develop- 
ments. The  military  strategists  who 
sit  at  home  and  tell  us  all  about  it 
have  been  sore  put  to  say  what  is  being 
done  and  what  particular  lines  of  action 
are  being  developed.  The  correspond- 
ents who  have  gone  to  the  front  have 
sent  back  no  information  that  is  worth 
while,  and  we  are  almost  without  ac- 
curate knowledge  of  the  situation. 
For  days  and  weeks  a  huge  battle  has 
been  expected  in  Northern  Corea,  but 
this  has  not  yet  happened.  There  is 
no  doubt,  however,  that  the  delay 
makes  for  the  advantage  of  Russia. 
General  Kuropatkin   has  reached  the 


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Britannia — ''Dear  me!  What  is  all  that  noise  out  in  the  yard, 
Johnny?" 

Johnny — '*It's  only  Sammy.  He  wants  me  to  %o  out  and  play 
reciprocity  with  him,  and  I  don't  want  to." — Montreal  Star 


East,  having  made  the  trip  in  two 
weeks.  He  and  Admiral  MakarofF 
have  infused  new  life  into  the  land  and 
naval  forces  of  the  Czar.  With  the 
opening  of  navigation  on  Lake  Baikal 
Russian  reinforcements  and  supplies 
will  go  forward  with  greater  rapidity. 

Meanwhile  Japan  is  not  idle  and  is 
making  strenuous  efforts  to  entrench 
herself  in  Corea.  The  Marquis  Ito  is 
on  a  special  commission  to  the  Corean 
Court  and  remains  in  Seoul.  There  is 
no  doubt  that  so  long  as  he  is  present 
in  that  country  everything  will  be  done 
that  can  be  done  to  increase  the  railway 
accommodation,  the  efficiency  of  the 
methods  of  transportation,  and  to  so 
strengthen  the  fortifications  that  it  will 
be  very  difficult  to  dislodge  the  soldiers 
of  the  Mikado. 

So  far  as  the  sea-fights  are  concern- 
ed, the  moral  victory  is  with  Japan. 
The  Russians  have  lost  several  vessels. 


possibly  through 
carelessness,  possib- 
ly because  of  Japan- 
ese torpedo-boat  dar- 
ing. But  the  loss  of 
these  vessels,  though 
material,  is  a  matter 
of  less  consequence 
than  the  loss  of  Ad- 
miral Makaroff,  who 
apparently  was  the 
greatest  of  all. Rus- 
sian naval  officers. 
He  was  energetic,, 
daring  and  skilful. 
His  death  increases 
the  difficulties  which 
General  Kuropatkin 
will  be  called  upon  ta 
face.  The  Baltic 
Squadron  is  not  ex- 
pected to  reach  the 
East  before  the  end 
of  August.  The  new 
Admiral  will  have 
difficulty  in  defend- 
ing himself  in  the 
meantime  against  an 
enemy  who  is  much 
stronger.  In  fact,  he 
is  confronted  by  an  al- 
most impossible  task. 

The  Combes  Government  in  France 
is  now  given  a  further  lease  of  life, 
namely,  until  the  Chamber  resumes  its 
sessions  after  the  Easter  holidays. 
But  one  may  be  pardoned  for  growing 
skeptical  as  to  prophecies  of  Dr. 
Combes'  downfall.  He  was  to  be  de- 
feated on  the  measure  expelling  the 
congregations,  then  on  the  prohibition 
of  religious  teaching,  and  then  on  the 
issue  afforded  by  the  ineptness  of  Min- 
ister Pelletan  of  the  navy.  All  these, 
however,  have  been  survived.  The 
latest  slap  at  the  Church  (the  order  for 
the  removal  of  all  religious  emblems 
from  the  court  of  justice)  has  met  with 
much  less  approval  from  the  French 
people  than  was  given  to  the  measures 
which  vitally  affected  Church  influence. 
It  looks  more  like  an  exhibition  of  spite 
than  a  justifiable  administrative  in- 
novation. 


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t^-a'O'-Q:^ 


THE  SUNSHINE  BRIGADE 

Make  way,  make  way,  for  the  Sunshine  Brig- 
ade! 

There  comes  no  gloom  where  its  troops  have 
strayed, 

For  they  bear  the  peace  of  the  fairy  dells, 

And  laughter's  the  music  that  ripples  and 
swells 

To  the  rhythmic  tread  of  their  marching  feet. 

And  they  love  the  world,  for  the  world  is 
sweet; 

And  Worry  and  Trouble  creep  back,  dis- 
mayed, 

When  they  view  the  flag  of  the  Sunshine 
Brigade. 

Make  place,  make  space  for  the  Sunshine 

Brigade 
As  it  cheerfully  marches,  in  joy  arrayed. 
For  the  world  has  need  of  laughter's  tone. 
And  has  worries  and  flurries  enough  of  its 

own; 
And  a  smiling  face  is  a  message  of  cheer: 
"Let  the   world  wag   on,  there   is   blessing 

here." 
Oh,  we  need  them  all  on  life's  upward  grade. 
The  beautiful  folks  of  the  Sunshine  Brigade. 


Recruits,  recruits  for  the  Sunshine  Brigade, 
From  those  who  have  wandered  and  stumbled 

and  strayed. 
Yet  know  the  sweet  music  of  laughter's  glad 

song. 
That  defeat  presses  down  the   battalions  of 

wrong; 
Who  know  the  love  that  was  born  to  bless. 
The  pressure  of  lips  in  a  fond  caress, 
From  those  who  are  blessed  through  the  ran- 
som Christ  paid, 
Recruits,  recruits  for  the  Sunshine  Brigade  ! 

— Alfred  Y.  Waterhouse. 


ALL  this  month  housefurnishing'and 
bric-a-brac  shops  everywhere 
will  be  haunted  by  prospective  June 
brides  and  bridegrooms,  intent  upon 
the  exciting  and   fascinating   task  of 


making  cosy  and  habitable  the'  new 
homes  they  are  soon  to  occupy.;^  I 
should  like  to  call  the  attention  of 
these  young  people — and,  indeed,  of 
householders  everj'where — to  a  very 
interesting  and  helpful  article  on  house- 
furnishing  which  appeared  recently  in 
that  excellent  periodical,  The  House 
Beautiful. 

The  Chinese  have  a'  proverb  which 
runs:  "  A  hundred  men  may  make  an 
encampment,  but  it  takes  a  woman  to 
make  a  home,*'  and  since  this  is  unde- 
niably true,  it  is  to  be  regretted  that 
more  women  do  not  realize  that  in 
making  a  pretty  h(mse  they  are  not 
necessarily  ensuring  for  themselves 
and  their  families  a  comfortable  home, 

I  know  a  young  bride  who  takes 
great  delight  in  what  she  considers 
her  pretty  home,  its  many  silk  drapes, 
pale-tinted,  showy  curtains,  and  med- 
ley of  bric-a-brac,  being  a  source  of 
much  pleasure  and  pride  to  her  ;  but 
no  one  except  herself  finds  any  com- 
fort in  her  rooms,  her  poor  husband 
feeling  really  at  ease  only  in  his  own 
little  smoking  den.  Masculine  visit- 
ors seat  themselves  with  inward  fear 
upon  her  fragile  little  chairs  and  flimsy 
settees,  and  feminine  guests  breathe  a 
sigh  of  relief  if  they  emerge  from  the 
house  without  having  overturned  with 
sleeves  or  skirt  sorhe  of  the  breakable 
articles  of  virtu  with  which  high 
tables,  low  tables,  and  even  the  floor 
are  covered. 

The  author  of  the  article  mentioned 
above  makes  very  clear  the  two  import- 
ant points  to  be  constantly  borne  in  mind 
by  the  house-furnisher — simplicity  and 


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utility.  A  heterogeneous  medley  of 
silk  drapes,  rich  portieres  and  orna- 
ments crowded  together  on  tables, 
shelves  and  mantel  piece,  forever  de- 
stroys in  a  room  any  claim  to  beauty 
which  its  owner  may  make  for  it. 

Here  are  a  few  trenchant  gleanings 
from  Miss  Spicer's  admirable  little 
article: 

<  <  We  collect  things  which  mean 
something  to  us,  but  if  that  meaning  is 
not  apparent  to  others,  the  articles 
would  better  be  kept  in  a  place  where 
they  will  be  seen  by  us  alone,  and  they 
may  be  shdwn  and  explained  to  those 

who  are  interested a  table  used 

merely  to  show  off  small  articles  of 
ornament  seems  meaningless,  a  shelf 
or   mantel   is   more   suitable   for  this 

purpose As  the  mantel  is  usually 

the  thing  in  the  room  which  first 
catches  the  eye,  take  pains  to  put  on 
it  your  best  and  most  effective  things. 
A  few  large  jars  and  bits  of  pottery 
will  look  far  more  dignified  than  a  lot 

of   meaningless    little    things If 

young  people  would  only  remember 
that  they  have  a  lifetime  before  them, 
that  it  is  easier  at  first  to  get  along 
with  two  good  dining  chairs  and  a 
packing-box  than  to  feel  later  on  like 
disposing  of  six  or  eight  mediocre 
chairs  and  beginning  all  over  again, 
that  it  is  better  to  have  one  good  jar 
than  a  dozen  poor  ones,  they  would 
make  haste  slowly.  The  standard  of 
a  really  fine  thing  is  its  lastingness. 
If  you  love  your  possessions  more  and 
more  each  year  they  must  be  good, 
but  if  you  soon  outgrow  them  they 
were  never  worth  the  loving." 


Speaking  of  houses,  it  is  rather  in- 
teresting to  compare  the  various  styles 
of  architecture  which  at  present  flour- 
ish in  our  country.  Coming  directly 
from  the  east  to  the  extreme  west,  one 
is  particularly  struck  by  the  great  dif- 
ference between  the  houses  of — say 
Quebec,  and  the  houses  of  British  Col- 
umbia. 

As  climate  is  largely  responsible  for 
fashions  in  clothes,  so  is  it  a  determin- 
ing factor  in  fashions  in  building,  and, 


naturally,  one  would  not  expect  to  find 
an  open,  wide-verandahed  bungalow  in 
the  Arctic  zone,  nor  a  heavily-built, 
thick-walled,  stone  dwelling  in  the 
tropics,  but  surely  Quebec  architects 
could  design  houses  warm  enough  to 
withstand  the  rigorous  winter  of  that 
Province,  and  yet  possessing  some 
small  degree  of  comfort  and  beauty. 

In  Montreal,  where  the  question  of 
space  must  be  considered,  one  can 
understand  the  supposed  necessity 
which  impelled  the  builders  of  that  city 
to  erect  their  cheaper  dwelling  houses 
in  tiers,  one  above  the  other,  where 
families  are  neatly  stowed  as  cattle  and 
sheep  are  packed  in  railway  cars. 
But  in  building  detached  houses  in 
ample  grounds  there  is  really  no  reason 
or  excuse  for  carrying  out  the  same 
cramping  ideas.  Montreal  and  Que- 
bec are  essentially  cities  of  ugly  houses, 
of  long,  unbroken  rows  of  chill,  forbid- 
ding-looking dwelling  places,  straight, 
sombre  and  formal  as  to  exterior,  un- 
inviting and  stiff  as  to  interior. 

A  Toronto  lady  who  went  to  live  in 
Quebec  last  winter,  after  much  house 
hunting  was  forced  to  enshrine  her 
Lares  and  Penates  in  a  typical  Lower 
Canadian  domicile. 

The  laundry,  kitchen  and  kitchen 
accessories  were  on  one  floor;  the  din- 
ing-room and  a  small  den  occupied  the 
next;  over  these  were  her  bedroom,  the 
drawing-room  and  bathroom,  while  the 
top  flat  contained  a  bedroom  occupied 
by  the  small  son  of  the  house,  the 
maid's  room  and  a  sewing-room.  In 
the  spring  the  exhausted  mistress  of 
this  convenient  and  comfortable  house 
gave  it  up  and  fled  to  a  cottage  in  the 
country  where  she  could  recover  a  little 
of  the  strength  and  vitality  wantonly 
consumed  by  those  three  flights  of  nar- 
row vampire-like  flights  of  stairs  which, 
owing  to  the  clever  arrangement  of  the 
house,  had  to  be  trod  countless  times 
daily. 

In  Montreal  the  same  manner  of 
house  prevails.  The  Lower  Canadian 
architects  of  to-day  are,  perhaps,  be- 
ginning to  feel  the  wave  of  "modern 
ideas''  which  is  sweeping  over  the  con- 
tinent, but  for  the  sins  of  the  arch- 


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itects  of  yesterday  thous- 
ands of  Montreal  and  Que- 
bec women  will  yet  be  forced 
to  suffer  for  many  a  long 
day. 

It  is  better  in  Toronto, 
Ottawa  and  Hamilton,  most 
of  the  residential  parts  of 
these  cities  having  been 
built  comparatively  recent- 
ly, and  one  sees  f^ewer  of 
the  unattractive,  one-sided 
houses  in  which  the  rooms 
are  strung  like  small  beads 
on  a  long,  narrow  hall  run- 
ning in  a  thin,  unbroken  line 
from  the  front  door  to  the 
kitchen. 

Designers  of  houses  are 
beginning  to  realize  that 
space  and  light  in  one's 
dwelling  place  are  two  very 
desirable,  if  not  absolutely 
essential  features,  and  so 
every  year  in  Ontario  one 
sees  a  greater  number  of 
houses  with  square,  roomy 
hails  and  wide  windows. 
Just  now  the  tendency — 
much  to  be  commended — is  to  spread 
the  house,  putting  into  two  or  three 
stories  the  same  number  of  rooms  that 
used  to  be  squeezed  tier-like  into  four 
or  five,  thus  dispensing  with  unneces- 
sary, back-breaking  stairs. 


Of  houses  in  Winnipeg  I  am  not  in 
a  position  to  speak  with  authority,  not 
having  been  in  a  sufficient  number  to 
make  my  comments  of  value,  but  in 
Victoria  and  Vancouver  the  problem  of 
building  pretty,  comfortable,  and  in 
every  respect  thoroughly  satisfactory 
houses  is  nearer  solution  than  in  any 
other  part  of  Canada  I  know.  Here 
one  finds  wide,  roomy  halls,  frequent- 
ly swelling  out  into  cosy  nooks,  fire- 
place ingles,  or  even  reception  rooms, 
drawing-rooms  so  pretty  and  com- 
fortable as  to  at  once  suggest  the 
American  comprehensive  and  expres- 
sive name  for  such  apartments — ^Htv- 
ing-roomsy'  in  the  truest  sense  of  the 
word,  and  bedrooms  which,  while  not 


DAISY   BELL 

A  centenarian  Indian  Basket-weaver  of  British  Columbia 


uncommonly  large,  yet  give  one  a  de- 
lightful impression  of  sunlight  and 
breathing-space. 

Few  houses  are  without  a  liberal 
supply  of  open  fireplaces,  and  the 
much-carved,  mirror-decked,  ornate 
and  very  **cheap"  overmantels  so 
popular  in  the  East  are  here  replaced 
by  a  mantelpiece  of  plain  wood,  usual- 
ly oiled  cedar,  mirrorless  and  uncarv- 
ed,  whose  straight,  clean  lines,  besides 
giving  dignity  and  character  to  the 
whole  room,  are  to  the  tired  eyes  of 
the  real  art-lover  a  rest  and  a  joy  for- 
ever. 

A  very  popular  style  of  small  dwell- 
ing in  Vancouver  is  a  little  house  of  a 
story  and  a  half,  locally  known  as  a 
bungalow,  and  one  has  only  to  go 
over  a  few  of  them  to  realize  and  ap- 
preciate the  comfort  and  beauty  of 
these  cosy,  well-planned  little  resi- 
dences. 

Houses  of  this  kind  are  sorely  need- 
ed in  our  Eastern  cities,  where  it  is  al- 
most impossible  to  get  a  small,  inex- 


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pensive  house  in  a  desirable  locality. 
Every  young  couple  starting  in  life 
with  a  slender  income  swells  the  gen- 
eral wail,  and  in  their  search  for  a  nest 
they  are  confronted  with  the  unat- 
tractive alternative — a  narrow,  little 
brick-fronted  house  in  a  row  where 
congenial  neighbours  will  be  an  un- 
known quantity,  or  '*  apartments*'  in 
some  private  house,  than  which,  ex- 
cept in  most  rare  instances,  no  method 
of  living  is  quite  so  undesirable.  The 
flats  and  large  apartment  houses 
which  are  being  built  in  Winnipeg, 
Toronto  and  Montreal,  do  not  solve 
this  small-income  problem,  for,  being 
^*  new  and  fashionable,"  rents  are 
higher  than  for  ordinary  houses,  and 
the  flats  and  suites  of  rooms  in 
these  modern  buildings  can  be  occu- 
pied only  by  the  really  well-to-do. 


Poker  work — or  pyrography,  to  be 
technical — as  a  popular  feminine  pas- 
time is  rapidly  giving  place  to  basket- 
weaving,  which  really  is  a  very  charm- 
ing and  fascinating  occupation  for  the 
girl  who  craves  some  pretty  task  pour 
passer  le  temps, 

Mexican  grass  is  the  favourite  ma- 
terial employed,  though  rafia  is  com- 
ing into  favour.  The  latter  may  be 
bought  at  any  seed  store,  or  from  flor- 
ists, who  use  it  to  tie  up  bunches  of 
their  wares,  or  it  may  be  obtained 
dyed  in  any  colour  at  almost  any  dry- 
goods  or  fancy-goods  shop. 

A  lady  from  the  South,  who  spent 
last  summer  in  Muskoka,  showed  me 
some  really  wonderful  baskets,  which 
she  was  justly  proud  to  exhibit  as  her 
own  handiwork.  She  made  them  in 
all  shapes  and  sizes,  weaving  into 
them  beautiful  decorations  in  most 
curious  and  attractive  designs.  One 
very  pretty  little  work-basket  in  pale 
green  had  a  flock  of  blackbirds  encir- 
cling it  in  a  zig-zag  line. 

While  it,  of  course,  requires  skill 
and  practice  to  work  in  very  elaborate 
or  intricate  patterns,  simple  basket- 
weaving  is  not  at  all  difficult,  and  even 
without  a  book  of  instructions,  which 
is  easily  obtainable,  the  average  nim- 


ble-fingered girl,  given  reeds,  rafia  and 
a  needle,  could  soon  find  herself  mis- 
tress of  the  art. 

Many  ingenious  girls  are  making 
their  own  spring  and  summer  hats  this 
year  out  of  rafia,  either  braiding  it  and 
sewing  it  round  and  round  as  one 
would  sew  straw-braid,  or  weaving  it 
in  and  out  over  a  wire  shape.  A  wide- 
brimmed  rafia  hat  in  the  natural  shade, 
trimmed  with  a  simple  wreath  of  bright 
red  poppies,  would  make  a  very  attract- 
ive hat  to  wear  with  linen  and  piqud 
shirt-waist  suits. 

While  the  Indian  women  of  Ontario 
and  Quebec  devote  themselves  particu- 
larly to  beadwork  and  making  baskets 
and  boxes  of  birchbark  and  porcupine 
quills,  those  of  the  West  work  only 
with  reeds  and  grasses,  making  bask- 
ets of  all  sizes  and  designs. 

Each  tribe  does  one  special  kind  of 
weaving,  so  that  one  who  has  made 
^en  a  slight  study  of  the  subject  can 
tell  from  a  single  glance  at  a  basket 
just  where  it  was  made;  though  it  is 
a  rather  remarkable  and  interesting 
fact  that  an  Indian  will  never  make 
two  baskets  exactly  alike — there  must 
be  some  slight  difference  in  size,  col- 
our or  design,  else  ill-luck  will  befall 
the  weaver. 

The  finest  and  most  valuable  bask- 
ets are  made  by  the  Indian  women  of 
northern  British  Columbia  and  Alaska, 
fifty  or  a  hundred  dollars  being  by  no 
means  an  uncommon  price  to  pay  for 
a  well-made  Attn  basket. 


One  is  glad  to  learn  that  the  King's 
Daughters  of  Victoria  are  to  hold  a 
yMade-in-Canada  Exhibition**  this 
month.  From  the  gratifying  respon- 
ses which  the  ladies  in  charge  of  the 
exhibition  have  received  from  the  man- 
ufacturers to  whom  they  have  written 
for  exhibits,  and  from  the  enthusiastic 
interest  which  is  being  taken  in  the 
enterprise,  there  is  every  indication 
that  the  exhibition  will  be  an  unquali- 
fied success.  The  good  wishes  of 
WomarCs  Sphere  are  with  the  King's 
Daughters  in  their  commendable  un- 
dertaking. 


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CANADA  AND  ST.  LOUIS 

THE  large  number  of  CaDadians  pre- 
paring to  visit  the  Exposition  at 
St.  Lpouis,  which  opens  on  April  30th, 
indicates  that  there  is  no  subsidence  of 
interest  in  World's  Fairs.  Besides,  it 
will  be  as  easy  for  Canadians  to  go  to 
St.  Louis  as  it  was  to  visit  Chicago, 
because  the  greater  distance  is  count- 
erbalanced by  faster  trains.  The  Ca- 
nadian visitors  will  no  doubt  go  main- 
ly during  May,  September,  October 
and  November,  the  three  intervening 
months  being  too  hot  for  people  from 
northern  latitudes. 

The  Fair  will  not  likely  be  remark- 
able in  introducing  new  features.  Chi- 
cago and  Buffalo  worked  out  the  plas- 
ter building  and  electric  light  ideas 
fairly  well,  and  St.  Louis  has  been 
obliged  to  follow  along  the  same  lines. 
The  grounds  contain  about  1,240 
acres,  while  the  Chicago  Fair  covered 
633  acres,  Paris  336  acres,  and  Buffalo 
300  acres.  The  main  exhibit  palaces  are 
to  be  nine  in  number,  and  will  roof 
over  128  acres  as  compared  with  Chi- 
cago's 82  and  Buffalo's  15.  The  key- 
note to  the  show  will  be  **  Processes 
rather  than  Products,"  and  perhaps 
this  will  be  the  feature  which  will  dis- 
tinguish the  Fair  in  history. 

The  plan  of  the  grounds  is  compara- 
tively simple.  In  the  ground  selected 
there  was  a  natural  hill,  somewhere 
about  seventy  feet  in  height.  On  this 
was  built  a  Festival  Hall  flanked  by  a 
curved  architectural  screen  or  peri- 
style. Down  one  side  of  the  hill,  to- 
ward the  group  of  exhibition  palaces 
at  the  foot,  are  terraces  and  cascades 
flanking  each  other,  the  cascades  emp- 
tying into  a  great  basin  which  lies  in 
the  centre  of  the  grounds.  The  larger 
buildings  are  grouped  together  so  that 
they  may  be  viewed  from  the  Festival 


83 


Hall  hill  and  its  terraced  side.  The 
other  four  hundred  odd  buildings  are 
scattered  here  and  there  through  the 
grounds. 

Canada  is  to  be  represented  by  a 
building  and  some  exhibits.  Probably 
both  will  be  as  inadequate  as  they  were 
at  Buffalo.  There  will  be  the  usual 
chunks  of  ore,  a  sheaf  or  two  of  wheat, 
some  dead  fish,  a  few  fur-bearing  ani- 
mals and  an  odd  picture  of  an  Indian* 
There  will  be  a  profusion  of  uninterest- 
itig  government  pamphlets,  dull  and 
deadly,  and  an  obvious  lack  of  attend- 
ants who  know  the  country  and  its  re- 
sources. Worse  than  all  there  will  be 
a  collection  of  Canadian  art!  Yet  the 
worst  will  not  happen,  since  there  is 
to  be  no  exhibit  of  Canadian  news- 
papers and  magazines. 


THE  ST.  LOUIS  IDEA 

CANADA  cannot  have  much  sym- 
pathy with  the  St.  Louis  idea, 
because  it  is  essentially  a  glorification 
of  expansion — United  States  expan- 
sion. The  full  significance  of  this  can 
be  estimated  only  by  a  survey  of  the 
territorial  development  of  that  country 
during  the  last  hundred  years. 

When  the  nineteenth  century  opened,^ 
the  western  boundary  of  the  United 
States  was  the  Mississippi  river;  but 
this  did  not  include  Florida,  nor  the 
vast  unlimited  territory  known  as 
Louisiana,  the  general  term  for  the 
Mississippi  valley.  These  districts  be- 
longed to  Spain,  which  had  obtained 
them  by  occupation  and  the  general 
settlement  of  1762.  Just  as  the  Unit- 
ed States  settlements  were  prepared 
to  flow  over  on  this  Spanish  territory, 
a  fortunate  situation  evolved  itself.  In 
1801,  Napoleon,  desiring  to  re-estab- 

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lish  French  colonial  reputation,  secured 
Louisiana  from  the  Spanish,  entering 
into  an  engagement  not  to  dispose  of 
the  province,  but  to  return  it  to  Spain 
if  his  plans  miscarried.  Talleyrand 
gave  the  most  positive  declaration  that 
it  should  never  again  be  alienated  from 
France.  Great  Britain  did  not  like  this 
new  proprietorship,  as  she  did  not  de- 
sire an  extension  of  Napoleonic  power 
on  the  continent  of  America,  since  it 
would  be  likely  to  disturb  her  French 
subjects  in  Canada.  Knowing  this, 
the  United  States  saw  an  opportunity 
worth  considering.  This  position  was 
further  complicated  by  trouble  be- 
tween the  United  States  and  Napoleon 
in  San  Domingo,  and  by  misunder- 
standings with  Spain  over  the  navi- 
gation of  the  Mississippi.  At  first, 
the  United  States,  was  prepared  to  ac- 
cept West  Florida  in  liquidation  of 
such  claims  as  she  had  at  that  time. 
Eventually  the  United  States'  desire 
for  West  Florida  grew  to  a  desire  for 
the  whole  Mississippi  valley,  including 
New  Orleans.  In  March,  1803,  Mon- 
roe was  sent  to  Paris  to  make  increas- 
ed demands  of  France.  He  was  back- 
ed up  by  the  British,  who  preferred  an 
extension  of  Anglo-Saxon  influence  to 
an  increase  of  French  influence.  Na- 
poleon's necessities,  however,  settled 
the  question.  He  needed  more  money; 
and  his  experience  in  San  Domingo 
led  him  to  doubt  the  wisdom  of  try- 
ing a  huge  settlement  in  Louisiana.  He 
was  abandoning  his  ideas  of  colonial 
greatness,  and  besides,  another  war 
with  Great  Britain  was  imminent. 
On  the  2nd  of  May  he  signed  a  treaty 
selling  Louisiana  to  the  United  States 
(over  one  million  square  miles),  for 
$11,250,000,  and  a  liquidation  of 
United  States  claims  for  damages  in 
other  quarters  of  $3,750,000  or  a  total 
of  fifteen  million  dollars.  This  was  the 
Louisiana  purchase  which  is  now  to  be 
celebrated  by  a  Universal  Exposition 
at  St.  Louis,  then  a  small  trading 
post.  On  the  20th  of  December,  1903, 
the  province  of  Louisiana  was  official- 
ly surrendered  to  Governor  Claiborne, 
of  Mississippi,  and  General  Wilkinson, 
of  the  United  States  army.     The  trans- 


fer of  Upper  Louisiana  took  place  at 
St.  Louis  on  the  8th  and  loth  of  March, 
1804. 

Then  the  United  States  proceeded  to 
secure  Florida  and  dispossess  Spain 
of  all  her  territory  east  of  the  Missis- 
sippi. All  sorts  of  expedients  were  re- 
sorted to  which  would  cause  trouble  and 
create  ''claims"  against  the  govern- 
ment of  Spain.  Finally,  in  1821,  a 
treaty  ceded  to  the  United  States  all  of 
the  Floridas  and  all  territory  belong- 
ing to  Spain  west  of  the  Mississippi, 
with  the  exception  of  what  is  now 
Texas,  New  Mexico,  Arizona  and 
Southern  California.  This  settlement 
cost  the  United  States  about  six  and  a 
half  million  dollars. 

Of  course,  the  next  step  was  to  con- 
tinue the  quarrel  and  to  put  peculiar 
interpretations  on  these  various  treat- 
ies. The  United  States  citizens  in 
Texas  gave  the  Mexican  governor  all 
the  trouble  they  could.  In  1833  ^^^y 
asked  the  Mexican  Government  to 
allow  them  to  organize  a  separate 
State.  The  refusal  was  followed  by  a 
revolution  and  the  organization  of  a 
republic  under  General  Sam  Houston, 
in  December,  1835.  A  little  later  the 
United  States  recognized  the  new  re- 
public. Finally,  in  1845,  Texas  was 
annexed  to  the  United  States,  the  sum 
of  $10,000,000  being  applied  to  the 
liquidation  of  the  debts  of  the  republic. 

But  even  this  did  not  satisfy  the 
land-hunger  of  this  branch  of  our  race. 
Mexico's  protests  led  to  a  glorious  war, 
with  the  result  that  in  1848  New  Mex- 
ico and  California  were  added  to  the 
United  States  in  return  for  $15,000,- 
000.  The  despoliation  of  Mexico  con- 
tinued, and  soon  afterwards  the  exist- 
ing boundary  between  the  two  coun- 
tries was  defined. 

From  Great  Britain  also,  the  United 
States  has  secured  several  concessions. 
The  Jay  treaty  of  1793  between  Great 
Britain  and  the  United  States  decided 
that  commissions  should  be  appointed 
to  survey  the  upper  Mississippi  River 
and  to  determine  the  boundary  between 
the  United  States  and  Canada  along 
the  St.  Croix  River.  Further  provi- 
sions for  boundary  commissions  were 


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PEOPLE  AND  AFFAIRS 


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U,  »HTtl.  «M*^  «UV. 


MAP  OF  CENTRAL   PORTION   WORLD'S   FAIR   GROUNDS,    ST.    LOUIS 

Festival  Hall,  built  on  a  terraced  hill,  overlooks  the  larg-e  exhibition  buildings,  grouped 
around  the  Grand  Basin  at  the  foot  of  the  hill. 


inserted  in  the  Treaty  of  Ghent  which 
closed  the  war  of  18 12- 13-14.  By  the 
Treaty  of  London  of  i8i8  the  United 
States  gained  some  ancient  British 
territory  in  the  north  by  a  provision 
which  declared  that  the  boundary 
should  be  along  the  49th  parallel  of 
north  latitude  from  the  northwestern 
point  of  the  Lake  of  the  Woods  to  the 
Rocky  Mountains. 

Another  article  in  this  important 
treaty  provided  that  the  country  west 
of  the  Rockies  claimed  by  either  party 
should  be  free  and  open  to  the  people  of 
both  nations  for  ten  years.  This  was  a 
great  gain  for  the  United  States,  espe- 
cially since  earlier  in  the  year  a  United 
States  military  force  had  taken  posses- 
sion of  Fort  George  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Columbia  River  and  renamed  it 
Fort     Astoria.     The    United    States 


chances  were  therefore  materially  im- 
proved by  this  subsequent  treaty,  be- 
cause it  acknowledged  the  propriety  of 
this  theft  and  gave  them  time  for 
further  aggression.  The  ten-year 
period  was  still  further  extended  in 
1827  with  some  small  gains,  and  final- 
ly by  the  Treaty  of  Washington  of 
1846,  the  present  boundary  line  was 
agreed  upon  and  the  United  States 
flag  has  since  continued  to  fly  over 
most  of  the  disputed  territory.  To 
this  interesting  tale  may  be  attach- 
ed the  story  of  how  Daniel  Web- 
ster, by  concealing  the  Franklin  map 
of  the  boundary  agreed  upon  in  1783 
between  New  Brunswick  and  Maine — 
to  use  the  modern  names,  secured 
7,000  square  miles  of  territory  by  the 
Ashburton  Treaty  of  1842. 

The  acquisition  of  Alaska  was  an- 


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DR.   JAMESON 

The  New  Premier  of  Cape  Colony 

Other  diplomatic  triumph  for  the  Unit- 
ed States.  They  had  once  claimed  the 
coastline  as  far  north  as  Bering 
Strait,  but  in  1825  Russia  and  Great 
Britain  settled  upon  a  certain  district 
as  being  Russian  territory.  In  1867 
these  Russian  territorial  rights  were 
purchased  by  the  United  States  for 
$7,200,000,  and  in  1903  these  rights 
were  further  confirmed  by  the  Alaskan 
Boundary  Commission  appointed  by 
Great  Britain  and  the  United  States. 

The  territorial  expansion  of  the 
United  States,  due  to  the  war  with 
Spain,  is  also  recent  history.  The 
Philippine  Islands  haye  an  area  of  115,-' 
300  square  miles  and  a  population  of 
eight  millions.  Hawaii,  or  the  Sand- 
wich Islands,  contain  nearly  7,000 
square  miles  and  a  population  of  150,- 
000.  Porto  Rico  is  about  half  that 
area,  but  has  a  population  of  a  million, 
being  the  most  densely  populated  por- 
tion of  the  United  States  territory. 
Guam  and  Samoa  are  also  recent  ac- 
quisitions. 

To  make  the  same  progress  in  the 
twentieth  century  as  she  has  made  in 
the  nineteenth,  the  United  States  would 
require  to  conquer  a  large  portion  of 
the  continent  of  America.  She  has 
made  a  start  in  Panama,  and  no  doubt 


other  portions  of  Central  America  will 
be  selected  in  due  course.  One  attempt 
to  conquer  Canada  was  made  in  the 
nineteenth  century,  and  some  people 
claim  that  a  second  will  be  made  dur- 
ing the  twentieth.  To  read  the  history 
of  the  Great  Republic  during  tlie  past 
hundred  years  and  then  to  imagine 
that  from  henceforth  the  people  of  that 
country  will  refrain  from  annexing  nevi^ 
territory  is  to  write  one's  self  down  an 
idle  dreamer. 


IN  SOUTH  AFRICA 

CANADA  is  vitally  interested  in  the 
reorganization  of  South  Africa,  be- 
cause to  the  other  British  Colonies  she 
must  look  for  future  trade  development. 
The  progress  made  since  the  Boer  war 
has  not  been  satisfactory  to  the  onldok- 
er,  although  it  may  be  to  Lord  Milner 
and  his  associates.  No  doubt,  there 
are  great  difficulties.  New  problems 
and  unexpected  conditions  have  a  habit 
of  arising  to  confront  us  when  we  least 
expect  them. 

Dr.  Jameson,  the  ex-convict  and  new 
Premier,  has  introduced  his  first  meas- 
ure after  the  elections.  It  is  a  Redis- 
tribution Bill,  which  is  expected  to  en- 
sure a  fairer  measure  of  representation 
to  the  British  element.  He  proposes 
to  create  three  new  seats  in  the  Legis- 
lative Council  and  twelve  for  the  As- 
sembly, and  to  distribute  these  among 
the  principal  towns.  The  wings  of  the 
Bond  are  to  be  clipped. 

There  is  something  romantic  in  the 
career  of  this  young  Scotchman  who 
landed  in  Cape  Colony,  twenty-six 
years  ago,  to  try  his  fortune  at  a  distant 
outpost  of  the  Empire.  In  Kimberley 
he  shared  rooms  with  a  young  man 
named  Cecil  Rhodes.  Every  person 
knows  how  this  friendship  led  to  the 
Jameson  Raid  in  May,  1896,  and  re- 
sulted in  putting  Dr.  Jameson  in  con- 
vict dress.  Concerning  this  Raid  Dr. 
Jameson  has  spoken  candidly  and  wit- 
tily. "Revolution,"  he  once  said,  **to 
be  justified  must  be  successful — ours 
was  not.  I  made  a  mess  of  it  and  got 
fifteen  months — that  is  all.  No,  I  may 
add  one  thing,  I  deserved  fifteen  years 
— for  failing."  John  A.  Cooper 


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DAINTY   LITERATURE 

CANADA  is  a  land  whose  sentiment 
is  somewhat  rugged  and  unrefin- 
ed— to  speak  generally,  and  not  un- 
kindly. There  is  little  of  the  pictur- 
esque in  Canadian  life.  Nature  pre- 
sents a  strong,  rugged  appearance  to 
the  people  of  this  country,  and  conse- 
quently its  people  are  farmers,  herds- 
men, miners  and  hunters.  No  one 
would  call  the  Canadians  a  dainty,  art- 
loving,  pleasure-seeking  race.  We 
are  men  of  muscle,  of  action,  of  dar- 
ing, of  military  ambition.  Gentleness 
is  of  little  use  in  a  country  where  food 
is  gained  so  hardly,  where  trees  cum- 
ber the  productive  soil,  where  long, 
stern  winters  make  our  summers  nec- 
essarily more  active,  where  stern, 
rocky  mountains  and  hills  cross  and 
recross  the  fertile  belts,  where  Nature 
yields  her  products  and  her  secrets  so 
unwillingly.  Besides,  our  civilization 
is  new.  Canada  is  a  babe  among  the 
nations.  Instead  of  a  thousand  years 
of  history,  she  has  only  a  couple  of  cen- 
turies— three,  at  the  outside.  Medi- 
aevilism  even  has  barely  left  its  mark 
upon  the  country — there  are  few  ruins, 
few  relics  of  an  ancient  age  around 
which  mellow  sentiment  might  gather. 

So  our  literature  is  solemn.  Our 
spoken  speech  is  harsh  in  its  vowel 
sounds^.  Our  language  is  bold  and 
direct.  Our  common  expressions  lack 
in  daintiness  and  that  circumlocution 
which  is  picturesque.  The  short  sto- 
ries and  novels  which  reflect  Canadian 
life  are  as  harsh,  as  abrupt  and  as 
rough-hewn  as  our  speech  and  our 
sentiments.  The  average  Canadian 
writer  does  not  play  with  thoughts,  ex- 
pressions and  words.  He  is  forcible, 
but  seldom  picturesque. 

Perhaps,  as  we  grow  older,  we  shall 
acquire  the  habit.     We  may  learn  how 


to  describe  the  beauties  of  nature,  the 
varying  moods  of  human  beings,  the 
complex  phenomena  of  human  senti- 
ment in  coloured  words  and  phrases. 
We  may  lose  our  directness.  We  may 
lose  our  simple  classifications  of  human 
motives,  thoughts  and  action,  and 
evolve  a  pyschological  attitude  similar 
to  that  of  nations  whose  civilization 
and  mental  vision  go  back  to  the  time 
of  the  Parthenon  and  other  ancient 
glories  of  Greece.  But  at  present  we 
are  unblushingly  crude. 

This  unavoidable  state  of  affairs  is 
brought  home  to  us  when  we  read  the 
literature  of  European  nations — espe- 
cially of  the  Romance  countries.  Zola, 
Dumas,  Maupassant,  Ouida,  perhaps 
Sienkiewitz  and  Tolstoi — to  use  famil- 
iar names — have  no  counterparts  or 
even  distant  followers  in  Canada,  and 
very  few  even  in  the  United  States. 


These  thoughts  are  suggested  in  a 
way  by  a  reading  of  **  My  Friend 
Prospero,"  by  Henry  Harland,*  an  Ital- 
ian story  written  by  an  Englishman 
who  has  followed  in  the  footsteps  of 
George  Eliot,  Robert  Browning  and 
^Marion  Crawford,  and  sought  balmy 
climes,  for  sunny  pictures.  He  finds  a 
magnificent  castle  with 

**  its  endless  chain  of  big,  empty,  silent, 
splendid  state  apartments,  with  their  pave- 
ments of  gleaming  marble,  in  many-coloured 
patterns,  their  painted  and  gilded  ceilings, 
tapestried  walls,  carved  wood  and  moulded 
stucco,  their  pictures,  pictures,  pictures,  and 
their  atmosphere  of  stately  desolation,  their 
memories  of  another  age,  their  reminders  of 
the  pomp  and  power  of  people  who  had  long 
been  ghosts." 

In  and  around  this  wild  Italian  val- 
ley **  with  olive-clad  hills  blue-gray  at 
either  side,"  he  weaves  a  delicate  ro- 


*  Toronto:  William  Briggs. 


87 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


mance.  The  blue-eyed  Anglo-Saxon 
young  man  seeking  rest  and  pleasure 
meets  a  fair  Austrian  maiden;  he  a 
farmer's  son,  she  a  miller's  daughter — 
so  each  thinks.  Were  it  true,  there 
would  be  a  Canadian  romance;  but  it 
isn't  true,  and  thus  we  have  an  old- 
world  romance,  for  he  is  heir  to  a 
dukedom  and  she  a  princess.  This  is 
all  the  plot;  but  the  plot  is  nothing  in 
comparison  with  the  dainty  manner  in 
which  it  is  handled,  the  beautiful  music 
which  permeates  this  antique  opera. 
The  refinement  is  so  great  that  the 
lovers  speak  of  each  other,  reveal  their 
sentiments  only  through  the  use  of  the 
third  person  when  mentioning  the 
other.  The  dialogue  only  indicates 
what  each  means,  never  expresses  it 
directly;  the  motives  of  each  are  never 
more  than  half  revealed.  There  is 
over  it  all  a  dalliance,  an  absence  of 
haste,  a  delicate  refinement  of  expres- 
sion and  sentiment  which  marks  these 
characters  as  being  the  opposite  of  the 
people  of  the  Western  hemisphere,  as 
unlike  us  as  \(^e  are  unlike  the  Japs  or 
the  Chinese. 


If  the  reader  desires  to  test  the  truth 
of  the  foregoing,  he  may  take  up  Er- 
nest W.  Hornung's  new  novel  **  Denis 
Dent,"*  and  compare  the  two.  The 
binding  of  the  latter  is  just  as  good, 
the  paper  is  finer  and  the  frontispiece 
is  just  as  dainty.  Perhaps  the  letter- 
press is  a  trifle  coarser,  but  certainly 
the  atmosphere  of  the  story  is  that  of 
a  different  civilization.  Sailors  and 
miners,  and  the  crude  life  of  Austra- 
lia— and  a  sentence  like  the  following 
for  a  keynote  to  the  story: 

*'  He  stood  on  the  quay,  but  a  ragg-ed 
young  boor — unlettered  child  of  felons — un- 
shriven  son  of  the  soil — yet  worth  twice  his 
weight  in  gold  in  all  senses  of  the  homely 
phrase.  And  the  troubled  face,  with  the 
tears  rolling  grotesquely  over  the  tan,  was 
the  last  that  Denis  looked  on  in  a  land  as  rich 
as  in  the  precious  metal  itself." 

This  bold  sentence  with  its  crude- 
ness  of  expression  and  of  sentiment  is 
indicative  of  the  whole  book.  If  an- 
other example  were  needed  one  might 


•Toronto:  The  Copp,  Clark  Co. 


quote:  '*  They  had  also  cash  in  hand 
to  the  tune  of  ;£2;"  **  Nor  had  Denis 
long  to  wait  for  Mr.  Doherty's  earlier 
manner,  which  got  up  like  a  breeze  in 
the  free  expression  of  his  opinion  that 
ten  pounds  was  not  enough;"  or  this 
literary  gem,  **  Night  falls  like  an  as- 
sassin in  that  country,  but  the  purple 
tints  were  only  beginning  when  in  his 
very  ear  she  implored  him  not  to  leave 
her  any  more,  and  he  held  her  closer, 
but  said  he  must,*' 


Again,  the  contrast  between  the 
simplicity  of  a  book  like  **  My  Friend 
Prospero"  and  some  others,  might  be 
exemplified  by  some  quotations  from 
**  Sir  Mortimer,"*  the  latest  novel  from 
the  pen  of  that  famous  citizen  of  the 
United  States,  Mary  Johnston,  author 
of  ***To  Have  and  to  Hold."  On  page 
2  one  meets  with  this  charming  sent- 
ence: 

**  He  paused,  being  upon  his  feet,  a  man  of 
about  thirty  years,  richly  dressed,  and  out  of 
reason  good  to  look  at." 

One  is  led  to  wonder  what  rela- 
tion there  is  between  his  pausing  and 
his  being  on  his  feet.  Surely  Sir  Mor- 
timer could  have  paused  sitting  down, 
or  even  had  he  been  less  richly  dress- 
ed, even  younger  in  years,  or  less  good 
to  look  at.  Or  one  may  select  the 
following  to  exemplify  an  unnatural 
straining  after  effect: 

**  In  England,  since  the  stealing  forth  of  one 
lonely  ship,  heard  of  no  more,  three  spring- 
times had  kissed  finger-tips  to  winter  and 
burgeoned  into  summer,  and  three  summers 
had  held  court  in  pride,  then  shrivelled  into 
autumn." 

Yet  one  would  fain  acknowledge 
that  even  this  over-decorated  piece  of 
word  architecture  is  more  to  be  de- 
sired than  the  weary  round  of  monot- 
onous phrasing.  There  is  a  happy 
medium — yet  so  few  have  accurately 
gauged  it.  Mary  Johnston  comes 
nearer  to  successful  phrasing  than 
most  novelists  of  the  day,  and  no  one 
may  read  **Sir  Mortimer"  without 
being  convinced  that  here  is  an  extra- 
ordinary  novel.     She  enters   into  the 

*  Toronto:  The  Book  Supply  Co. 


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spirit  of  the  Elizabeth- 
an heroes  and  pictures 
their  actions  with  a 
vividness  which  is  al- 
most  startling.  In 
fact  **Sir  Mortimer," 
even  more  than  ^*  My 
Friend  Prosper©,"  is 
a  book  to  be  read  and 
re-read.  More  actors 
throng  the  stage,  and 
wider  ranges  are  fol- 
lowed, and  yet  almost 
equal  success  in  liter- 
ary style  and  artistic 
handling  of  the  theme 
are  attained. 


A  NEW  NOVELIST 

Norman  Duncan, 
whose  stories  of  New- 
foundland have  found 
their  way  into  Harp- 
e^s^  McClure's^  The 
Atlantic  Monthly^  and 
other  publications,  is 
a  Canadian  who  claims 
the  city  of  Brantford 
as  his  birth-place. 
Eight  years  of  his  life 
were  spent  in  the  town 
of  Mitchell  in  West- 
ern Ontario,  and  from 
there  he  entered  the 
University  of  Toronto. 
He  left  that  institution 
without  a  degree,  be- 
cause he  found  the 
science  course  which  he  had  chosen 
was  distasteful.  From  there  he  went 
to  Auburn,  N.Y.,  and  engaged  in 
journalistic  work.  Two  years  later 
he  joined  the  staff  of  the  New  York 
Evening  Post ^  and  to  the  atmosphere 
of  that  office  attributes  his  later  suc- 
cess in  fiction.  His  first  stories  dealt 
with  life  in  the  Syrian  Quarters  of  New 
York,  and  have  since  been  published  in 
book  form  with  the  title  "The  Soul 
of  the  Street."  Reaction  caused  him 
to  long  for  a  change  of  subject,  and  he 
chose  to  study  the  sea  and  those  who 
fight  with  it. 

His  subsequent  work  is  the  result  of 


NORMAN    DUNCAN 

Author  of  **  The  Way  of  the  Sea,"  etc. 


three  summers  in  Newfoundland  and 
one  in  Labrador.  His  second  book  is 
a  collection  of  Newfoundland  stories. 
His  third,  to  be  issued  next  fall,  is  to 
be  his  first  long  story,  and  it  will  beaf 
the  title,  **The  Champion."  Canadians 
who  have  not  yet  tasted  his  work, 
should  seek  it  out.  There  is  no  Cana- 
dian writing  fiction  to-day  who  gives 
greater  promise  than  Norman  Duncan. 
He  recently  visited  Toronto  at  the  in- 
vitation of  the  Canadian  Club,  and 
made  a  decided  impression.  Of  me- 
dium stature,  Mr.  Duncan  is  not  one 
to  impress  one  on  sight,  but  the  face 
and  the  voice  soon  indicate  the  gentle, 


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earnest  spirit  which  animates  the  man 
and  which  stamps  him  as  one  of 
earth*s  noblemen. 


v 


NOTES 

'ERNON  NOTT,  the  new  Canadian 
poet  mentioned  recently,  was 
born  in  Montreal  in  1878,  his  father  be- 
ing English  and  his  mother  Canadian. 
He  has  spent  most  of  his  life  in  Eng- 
land and  was  educated  at  Uppingham 
School.  He  served  in  the  Imperial 
Army  for  a  year,  but  his  health  break- 
ing down,  he  was  compelled  to  resign 
his  commission.  Returning  to  Canada, 
he  studied  law  at  McGill  for  a  year 
after  which  he  decided  to  follow  what 
had  been  his  lode-star  in  life — literature, 
and  he  intends  to  devote  himself  entire- 
ly to  writing  verse.  He  has  written 
three  other  books  since  ''The  Ballad  of 
the  Soul's  Desire,"  one  of  which  will 
be  published  in  England  early  in  the 
coming  year.  He  has  been  spending 
the  winter  in  Montreal. 

Messrs.  Constable  will  publish  next 
month  a  special  study  of  the  naval 
and  military  history  of  the  conquest  of 
Canada,  by  William  Wood,  of  Quebec, 
a  past- president  of  the  Literary  and 
Scientific  Society  of  that  city,  and  a 
contributor  to  The  Canadian  Maga- 
zine. The  book  will  be  entitled  "The 
Fight  for  Canada,"  and  is  based  en- 
tirely on  original  documents,  many 
hundreds  of  which  he  has  studied,  and 
very  few  of  which  have  yet  been  made 
use  of.  The  book  will  undoubtedly  be 
a  valuable  contribution  to  Canadian 
history. 

The  April  number  of  the  QueetCs 
Quarterly  is  worthy  of  special  mention 
and  deserving  of  wide  circulation.  It 
indicates  what  Canada  might  produce 
regularly  if  Canadians  did  not  prefer 
United  States  publications  to  those 
produced  at  home.  Professor  Car- 
michael  deals  with  * 'Photography  in 
Natural  Colours"  in  an  able  manner; 
A.  W.  Playfair,  a  young  man  who 
abandoned  pedagogical  work  for  busi- 
ness, writes  interestingly  of  "Paper 
Making;''  Sir  Sanciford  Fleming  con- 
tributes his  address  entitled  "Build  up 
Canada,"  delivered  before  the  Canadian 


Club  of  Toronto,  and  this  is  distin- 
guished by  an  instructive  map  shomring^ 
our  unexplored  regions;  Professor  Mar- 
shall dissects  "Matthew  Arnold's  Phi- 
losophy of  Religion;"  and  there  are 
other  important  articles  and  general 
features.  The  QueetCs  Quarterly  should 
have  a  wide  circulation  even  among* 
those  who  have  never  known  the  de- 
lights of  living  "On  the  Old  Ontario 
Strand." 

The  thinking  Canadian  who  does  not 
desire  to  see  this  country  a  nation  of 
wealthy  landlords,  of  railway  million- 
aires, or  of  privileged  corporations, 
should  read  the  fact-studded  pamph- 
let, "Canada,  a  Modern  Nation,'*  by 
W.  D.  Lighthall,  the  well-known 
Montreal  barrister.  Mr.  Lighthall 
figures  out  that  Canada  may  easily  ac- 
commodate 900,000,000  people,  and 
that  care  must  be  taken  to  adopt  g^en- 
erat  lines  of  policy  which  will  ensure 
equality  and  continuity  of  opportunity 
to  all  future  citizens.  Mr.  Lif^hthall 
also  emphasizes  the  possibilities  of 
public  and  municipal  ownership  and 
argues  intelligently  in  its  favour. 
(Montreal:  A.  T.  Chapman,  25  cts.) 

"The  Studio,"  English  edition,  con- 
tinues to  be  a  most  informing  art  jour- 
nal. The  recent  numbers  have  been 
exceptionally  bright,  and  the  coloured 
reproductions  are  a  continuous  wonder 
to  the  observer  who  is  not  yet  blase 
with  modern  advances  in  the  printer's 
art. 

"Picture  Titles  for  Painters  and 
Photographers"  is  the  title  of  a  unique 
and  suggestive  volume  by  A.  L.  Bal- 
dry,  published  by  "The  Studio**  of 
London,  England.  The  quotations  are 
chosen  from  the  literature  of  Great 
Britain  and  America,  but  confines  him- 
self to  about  a  score  of  the  best  known 
authors. 

The  "Annual  Archaeological  Re- 
port" of  David  Boyle,  of  the  Educa- 
tion Department  of  Ontario  (1903)  is 
a  splendid  contribution  to  our  histori- 
cal records.  Special  attention  is  paid 
to  effigy  stone  pipes,  stone  axes,  stone 
gouges,  early  copper  utensils  and  In- 
dian village  sites.  Mr.  Boyle  reports 
that  the  Ontario  Museum  now  contains 
about  27,000  specimens. 

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^ff^£. 


M^^sms 


w 


STQRY   OF   A   CORK   LEG 

^HILE  waiting  tor  the  judge  in 
Chambers  the  other  morning 
some  lawyers  got  into  a  conversation 
on  the  old  Peter  Hamilton  mortgage, 
and  other  mortgages.  They  finally 
drifted  to  chattel  mortgages,  and  one 
of  the  barristers,  a  member  of  a  promi- 
nent legal  firm  in  the  city,  told  of  a 
strange  one.  An  old  soldier,  who  had 
lost  his  leg  in  war  and  had  a  **peg" 
on  the  stump,  confided  to  him  one  day 
that  he  was  in  love  with  a  widow  who 
had  a  little  money.  He  wanted  to  get 
a  cork  leg,  to  put  on  style,  but  he 
had  not  the  price.  What  he  needed 
was  $75.  The  lawyer  said  he  would 
lend  it  to  him  if  he  would  give  a  chat- 
tel mortgage  on  the  leg.  This  was 
agreed  to,  and,  more  in  fun  than  in 
earnest,  the  mortgage  was  drawn  up, 
but  not  registered.  Anyway,  the  sol- 
dier got  the  leg  and  won  the  widow. 
When  the  couple  were  married  the 
lawyer's  gift  to  the  bride  was  the 
mortgage  on  the  groom's  leg. — Ham- 
ilioji  Times. 

H 

A   NEW   FLOWER 
(an  adapted  joke) 

A  Toronto  gentleman  stopped  at  a 
King  St.  florist's  a  few  days  ago  and, 
after  placing  his  order,  said: 

**  Have  you  anything  new  in  flow- 
ers?" 


**Yes,  here  is  something  which  I 
thought  would  prove  popular,  but  it 
doesn't  seem  to  go  very  well. "  Then 
he  brought  out  a  gaudy  hybrid. 

**What  is  the  name  of  it?"  asked 
the  customer. 

*•  I  call  it  *the  Prohibition  Candi- 
dates' Pledge.''' 

**For  what  reason?" 

**  Simply  because  it  fades  so  quickly." 

■ 
THE   NEW   VERSION 

A  soldier  of  the  Russians 

Lay  japanned  at  Tschn'zvkjskivitch, 
There  was  lack  of  woman's  nursing 

And  other  comforts  which 
Might  add  to  his  last  moments 

And  smooth  the  final  way; 
But  a  comrade  stood  beside  him 

To  hear  what  he  mig-ht  say. 
The  japanned  Russian  faltered 

As  he  took  that  comrade's  hand, 
And  he  said:  *'  I  never  more  shall  see 

My  own,  my  native  land: 
Take  a  messagfe  and  a  token 

To  some  distant  friends  of  mine 
For  I  was  born  at  Smnlxzrskgfqrxski, 

Fair  Smnlxzrskg-qrxski  on  the  Irkztrvzklm- 
nov." 

—  W,  J,  L.  in  New  York  Sun, 


THE  SUPREMEST   NERVE 

It  is  said  that  when  Mr.  Gladstone 
read  a  book  by  Mr.  Carnegie  he  re- 
marked that  he  admired  the  courage 
of  a  man  who,  without  knowing  how 
to  write,  wrote  on  a  subject  of  which 
he  knew  nothing. — Schoolmaster. 


FROM    FAR  TIBET 

A  correspondent  with  the  Tibet  mis- 
sion tells  a  mule  story:  **  Mules,  ap- 
parently, do  not  die  from  any  cause, 
and  this  mission  has  again  proved  the 
extreme  hardihood  of  these  animals. 
When  the   mission    first   crossed   the 


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THE    HEALTH   CRAZE 

The  modern  methods  of  attaining'  health,  rebuildin]<-  shattered 
constitutions,  curing  dyspeptic  ills  and  reducing  weight,  which  have 
now  become  such  a  craze  with  society  in  general,  would  certainly 
have  started  our  fathers.  Quite  the  latest  hails  from  Berlin,  where 
a  distinctly  original  treatment  is  to  be  experimented.  The  idea  is 
that  the  upright  position  adopted  by  men  and  women  is  entirely  op- 
posed to  hygiene — they  should  walk  on  all  fours.  The  illustration 
depicts  the  artist's  conception  of  patients  under  this  system  indulg- 
ing in  a  little  exercise.  — The  London  Bystander 


Jelap-la,  a  mule  slipped  in  the  dusk 
and  fell  into  the  lake  at  the  bottom  of 
the  pass.  It  was  thought  to  be  drown- 
ed. Next  morning  a  convoy  found  it 
with  its  nose  just  above  the  ice,  the 
rest  of  its  body  literally  frozen  in. 
Pickaxes  were  brought,  and  the  animal 
was   dug  out.      It   is   now  working  as 


usual.*' — St,  James 
Gazette. 


COULD    DO    IT 

WITHOUT    A 

GUIDE 

The  American  re- 
vivalists who  were 
in  Liverpool  some 
months  ago  have 
also  visited  Glas- 
gow. To  a  vast 
congregation  the 
preaching  evange- 
list cried:  *'  Now, 
all  you  good  people 
who  mean  to  go  to 
heaven  with  me, 
stand  up!"  With  a 
surge  of  enthusi- 
asm, the  audience 
sprang  to  their  feet 
—  all  but  an  old 
Scotchman  in  the 
front  row,  who  sat 
still.  The  horrified 
evangelist  w  r  u  n  g- 
his  hands,  and,  ad- 
dressing him,  said: 
'*My  good  man,  my 
good  man,  don't 
you  want  to  go  to 
heaven?"  Clear  and 
deliberate  came  the 
answer:  **  Awe, 
Awm  gangin',  but 
no  wi'  a  pairsonal- 
ly  conducted  pair- 
ty!"— 5"^?/^^/^^. 

H 

WOMEN    CLAS- 
SIFIED 

There  are  three 
classes  of  women: 

(i.)  Women  who  want  to  be  kissed. 

(2.)  Women  who  do  not  want  to  be 
kissed. 

(3.)  Women  who  look  as  though 
they  would  like  to  be  kissed,  but  won't 
let  men  kiss  them. 

The  first  men  kiss,  the  second  they  do^ 
not  kiss,  the  third  they  marry. — Life. 


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CURIOUS  PIPES 

THE  collection  of  curio  pipes  shown 
in  the  accompanying  photograph 
is  the  property  of  Dr.  Burrows  of  Lind- 
say»Ont.,  and  is  certainly  unique  ip  rep- 
resenting so  many  different  countries. 
So  long  as  there  are  people,  there 
will  be  collectors — old  furniture,  an- 
tique silverware,  postage  stamps,  rare 
paintings,  rare  gems  and  any  other 
kind  of  curiosity.  Nearly  every  smoker 
collects  pipes,  but  it  is  not  often  one 
goes  into  it  on  the  same  scale  as  Dr. 
Burrows.  Those  in  his  collection  are 
notable  from  many  standpoints  as  may 
be  gathered  from  the  following  list : 
No.  I.   Armenian. 

Aboriginal  Indian. 
From  Honolulu. 
From  Vienna. 
From  Derry. 

British   Admiral's  at  Cawn- 
pore,  India. 

No.   7.  Pipe  smoked  by   A.  Molley 
Maguire  while  being  hanged. 

No.  8.  From  store  beneath  Gotten- 
burg  Monument. 
No.  9.   Italian. 
No.   10.   From  Nile,  Egypt. 
No.   II.   From Paardeberg, with Oom 
Paul's  face. 
No.  1 2.  Syrian  carved  Turk's  head. 
No.  13.  Native  Indian  Clay. 
No.   14.  Common  Clay  from  Water- 
loo Place,   London;    has  been  around 
the  world. 
No.  15.  Japanese  Lady's  Opium  pipe. 
No.    16.  Taken  from  between  teeth 
of  dead  Boer  on  Spion   Kop  after  en- 
gagement with  British. 

No.  17.  From  St.  Pierre,  Marquette, 
after  fire,  covered  with  fused  lava. 


No.  2. 
No.  3. 
No.  4. 
No.  5. 

No.  6. 


No.  18.  From  Berne,  Switzerland,^ 
with  bear  totem. 

No.  19.  From  Stuttgart. 

No.  20.  Indian  Chiefs  pipe  from 
Omic  Harbour. 

No.  21.  Native  South  American  In- 
dian. Smoked  without  stem,  through 
piece  of  cloth. 

No.  22.  Pipe  from  block  of  wood, 
representing  Eagle,  carved  by  Ameri- 
can soldier  in  Philippines. 

No.  23,   Boer  pipe  of  native  wood. 
Long  German. 
Bowl    of    South    American 


24. 
25- 


No. 

No. 
Pipe. 

No.  26.  Mephistopheles  head  carved 
from  bog  oak. 

No.  27.  Old  Normal  bowl. 

No.  28.  Red  stone  Indian  pipe. 

No.  29.  Miniature  German  pipe, 
carved  with  pen  knife  by  prisoner  in 
Bastile;  in  bowl  are  three  perfect  dice. 

No.  30.  Esquimo  pipe  from  beyond 
Hoy  River,  within  Arctic  Circle. 

No.  31.  Pipe  smoked  by  French 
Gentleman  who  died  in  Grey  Nun  Hos- 
pital, Montreal,  aged  106. 

Left  of  No.  4  is  small  pipe  smoked 
by  a  boy  Gordon,  4  years  of  age. 

Above  No.  i  is  pipe  smoked  by 
young  lady  at  Vassar  school. 

Below  No.  2  pipe  smoked  by  Volney 
Ashford,  Major-General  to  her  Majesty 
Queen  Lilioukalani's  forces  in  Hawaii. 

Upper  right  hand  corner  pipe  smok- 
ed by  notorious  Jesse  James  from  De 
Sotto. 

Above  20  Indian  pipe  fashioned  from 
root,  from  Judge  Chadwick  of  Guelph. 

In  centre  above,  another  Indian  root 
fashioned  like  Moose's  head. 

Right  of  it  is  pipe  smoked  on  vessel 

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A    COLLECTION    OF   CURIOIS   PIPES 


Most  of  the  pipes  are  described  in  the  accompanying"  text.     They  are  the  property  of 
Dr.   Burrows,  of  Lindsay,  Ont. 


by  Duke  of  Norfolk  crossing  to  Canada. 

Left  of  it  tobacco  pouch  fashioned 
from  albatross  foot  used  by  gulf 
sailors. 

In  the  cigar  box  is  Tac-a-hic  tobacco 
smoked  by  Esquimo  of  far  north  when 
tobacco  is  not  procurable;  it  is  made 
from  the  bark  of  willow. 

There  are  also  Porto  Rico  dope  cigars, 
cigars  used  by  Chicago  and  New  York 


toughs  to  render  unsuspecting  victims 
unconscious,  a  part  plug  of  tobacco  in 
which  diamonds  were  attempted  to  be 
smuggled,  Spanish  Tuscans,  and  the 
latest  acquisition  a  covile  pipe  from 
Calcutta.  Nearly  every  pipe  has  a  his- 
tory. Dr.  Burrows  will  be  glad  to  pro- 
cure for  his  collection  any  pipes  with 
special  history  or  a  peculiarity  of  any 
kind. 

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CANADIAN  TOBACCO  ABROAD 

ONE  of  the  Canadian  agents  in  Aus- 
tralia writes  that  Canadian  cut  to- 
baccos have  made  their  appearance  in 
Melbourne.  He  points  out  that  near- 
ly all  cut  tobacco  in  Australia  is  im- 
ported in  hermetically  sealed  tins,  and 
that  Canadian  tobaccos  will  require  to 
be  put  up  in  this  way.  The  Canadian 
tobacco  men  would  do  better  to  look 
after  their  own  trade  at  home  instead 
of  attempting  to  capture  foreign 
markets.  English  tobaccos  in  sealed 
tins  are  growing  more  popular  in  Ca- 
nada, and  the  Canadian  manufacturer 
will  be  forced  to  do  better  in  flavouring 
and  tinning  if  he  expects  to  hold  even 
his  own  market.  It  is  inconceivable 
that  he  should  compete  successfully 
with  the  English  exporter  in  Australia, 
when  he  cannot  compete  with  him  at 
home  with  an  advantage  in  duty  and  in 
freight. 

Again  the  British  tobacco  curer  is  a 
good  advertiser.  No  other  class  of 
English  exporter  has  his  enterprise 
unless  possibly  the  soap  and  the  pill 
manufacturers.  Canadian  tobacco  cur- 
ers  have  not  yet  learned  the  value  of 
printers'  ink. 

AN  IMPERIAL  COUNCIL 

THE  Hon.  Alfred  Deakin,  the  new 
■^  Premier  of  Australia,  who  was  a 
delegate  from  the  Victorian  Govern- 
ment to  the  first  Imperial  Conference  in 
1887,  ^^^  reaffirmed  his  preference  for 
an  Imperial  Council.  This  is  a  period 
of  Conferences,  but  the  Empire  will  re- 
quire something  more  permanent,  more 
definite.  An  Imperial  Council,  a  con- 
sultative rather  than  a  legislative  body, 


would  be  the  natural  outcome  of  Im- 
perial progress.  It  would  give  the 
various  parts  of  the  Empire  opportun- 
ity to  state  their  positions  and  desires 
to  each  other.  Its  atmosphere  would 
be  that  of  calm  discussion,  unbiassed 
as  its  delegates  would  be  by  party 
afliliations  or  considerations.  Every 
scheme  for  common  defence,  for  the 
development  of  shipping,  or  for  mutual 
aid,  could  there  be  elaborated  with 
knowledge  and  forethought.  This 
method  of  deciding  Imperial  questions 
and  settling  Imperial  policy  might  not 
be  perfect  nor  final,  but  it  would  be  a 
step  in  advance.  Mr.  Deakin  is  not  in 
favour  of  allowing  sentiment  to  be  the 
only  bond  which  binds  the  Empire 
together,  for,  he  thinks,  there  must 
also  be  a  business  basis  on  which 
the  Empire's  business  shall  be  car- 
ried on. 

It  will  thus  be  seen,  as  has  been 
pointed  out  by  Sir  Charles  Tupperand 
others,  the  idea  of  an  Imperial  Parlia- 
ment is  not  regarded  with  favour  by 
the  practical  statesmen  of  the  day  in 
the  Colonies.  They  nearly  all  agree 
that  the  time  for  such  a  new  repre- 
sentative organization  is  still  far  dis- 
tant. 

Ji 
BONELESS  HERRING 

THE  abundance  ot  herring  in  the 
Bay  of  Fundy  this  winter  has  led 
to  the  establishment  of  a  new  industry 
at  Eastport,  the  putting  up  of  boneless 
herring.  The  fish  are  being  supplied 
by  Captain  James  C.  Calder,  of  Campo- 
bello,  N.B.,  and  the  factory  plant  is 
operated  by  the  big  syndicate  known 
as  the  Sea  Coast  Canning  Company. 


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For  a  number  of  years  a  concern  in 
New  York  has  been  putting  on  the 
market  a  boneless  herring  put  up  by  a 
patent  process,  from  smoked  fish  ship- 
ped from  Campobello  in  bulk.  The 
Eastport  firm  has  only  recently  started 
in  the  business,  but  it  already  uses  up 
5*500  pounds  of  herring  daily.  The 
head,  tail,  skin,  bones  and  part  of  the 
belly  are  removed  before  the  fish  are 
placed  in  the  cans.  As  the  plant  re- 
quired for  this  business  is  not  expensive 
and  the  process  is  not  at  all  complicat- 
ed, some  of  the  Canadian  canneries 
might  put  herring  up  in  this  form  to 
advantage.  It  is  certain  that  by  the 
adoption  of  new  methods  of  marketing 
fish,  the  use  of  this  commodity  might 
be  made  much  larger  than  it  is  at  pres- 
ent. The  success  which  has  attended 
efforts  in  this  direction  seems  to  indi- 
cate that  the  old  forms  of  fish  to  which 
people  have  been  accustomed  from  time 
immemorial  may  give  way  to  the  more 
finished  product. — Maritime  Merchant 
Ji 
BOUNTIES  VS.  TARIFFS 

THE  Hamilton  Times  admires  the 
Government's  bounty  system  be- 
cause **the  Government  handles  the 
bounty  and  people  know  exactly  what 
they  pay  the  iron  men  as  a  gift," 
whereas  under  a  protective  system  the 
**iron  men  may  themselves  levy  the 
tax,  make  it  many  times  greater  and 
keep  the  public  from  knowing  how 
much  they  take."  The  Times  has  the 
correct  idea  of  the  bounty,  but  it  en- 
tirely ignores  the  fact  that  under  the 
protective  system  through  home  com- 
petition it  is  possible  for  the  consumer 
to  obtain  his  supply  just  as  cheaply  if 
not  even  more  cheaply  than  he  would 
if  the  producer  had  no  protection.  Pro- 
tection does  not  add  to  the  cost  of  iron 
in  the  United  States. — Montre&lGasfet/e, 


THE  ALSEK    REGION 

If  the  testimony  of  the  men  who 
have  examined  the  Alsek  region,  and 
who  are  preparing  to  take  advantage 
of  the  opportunities  which  they  claim 
it  offers,  is  to  be  given  the  credit  it 
would   seem  to   deserve,  we  have  in 


that  district  a  new  Klondike  from 
which  much  benefit  will  be  reaped  dur- 
ing the  next  four  years.  It  is  accord- 
ingly gratifying  that  the  whole  gold- 
bearing  area,  ^^hich  is  computed  at 
about  a  hundred  square  miles,  is  en- 
tirely within  Canadian  territory,  and 
that  the  commercial  results  which  will 
flow  from  its  development  will  be 
realized  by  our  own  people.  If  the 
hopes  for  the  richness  of  the  district 
are  fulfilled  Vancouver  will  more  per- 
haps than  any  Canadian  centre  be  the 
gainer,  as  this  city  ought  to  be  its 
direct  base  of  supply.  The  Governor 
of  the  Yukon  Territory  is  showing 
commendable  activity  in  acquiring  in- 
formation regarding  the  auriferous 
character  of  the  region,  and  forward- 
ing this  intelligence  to  the  Dominion 
authorities,  who,  as  soon  as  they  re- 
gard themselves  as  justified  in  so  do- 
ing, will  appropriate  a  sufficient  sum 
of  money  to  construct  roads  and  trails 
through  the  country. — Vancouver Pruw- 
ince.  ^ 

THE  CUPPER  TRUST 

When  trust  promoters  fall  out  the 
public  occasionally  gets  a  little  inside 
information.  This  is  what  happened 
in  the  ship-building  case,. and  now  we 
are  promised  the  true  history  of  Amal- 
gamated copper.  A  few  facts  of  in- 
terest have  already  come  out  during 
the  course  of  the  Boston  gas  hearing 
in  which  the  copper  promoters  were 
also  interested.  Mr.  Lawson  said  on 
the  stand  that  $46,000,000  profit  was 
involved  in  one  transaction  in  which 
he  was  interested  with  the  **  Stan- 
dard Oil  crowd."  This  sum  was 
raised  to  $66,000,000  in  a  state- 
ment that  Mr.  Lawson  gave  out  on 
Sunday,  and  we  can  well  believe  him 
without  further  explanation.  Copper 
properties  like  Anaconda,  Butte  and 
Boston,  and  others  were  turned  over 
to  the  trust  at  figures  ranging  from 
fifty  to  one  hundred  per  cent;  above 
their  cost  and  value.  Amalgamated 
was  floated  at  par  and  is  now  quoted 
at  49.  This,  in  brief,  is  the  history  of 
another  combination  in  restraint  of 
trsLde.—Pub/ic  Opinion,  N.  V. 


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JUNE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


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THE 


CANADIAN  M 


NE 


VOL.  XXIII 


TORONTO,   JUN^,^19(fflAY  311904     No.  2 

THE  BUILDING  OF  Al^m^ 


By  HOPKINS  J.   MOOR  HO  USE 


[REATEST  of  all  factors  in  a 
country's  development  are 
its  railway  systems,  and 
the  building  of  a  railway 
through  unopened  tracts 
should  be  a  matter  for  national  con- 
g^ratulation.  To  scattered  inhabitants 
of  a  hitherto  forsaken  region  it  means 
much,  to  many  individual  concerns  it 
means  more,  but  to  the  nation  it  means 
most  of  all,  in  the  opening  up  of  new 
mineral  wealth,  in  new  settlements, 
increased  population  and  additional 
revenues. 

Miles  and  miles  of  unbroken  wilder- 
ness perhaps,  the  country  stretches 
away,  a  lonesome  land  of  spruce  and 
balsam  and  little  lakes  studded  with 
islet  clumps,  and  jagged  mountains  of 
rock  piling  into  the  sky.  For  centuries 
it  has  lain  in  its  primitive  grandeur,  its 
resources  unknown  and  its  solitude 
broken  only  by  the  voices  of  its  own 
wild  habitants.  Then  one  day  a  little 
party  of  white  men,  in  legging  boots 
and  accompanied  by  Indian  guides, 
forces  its  way  into  the  depths.  Each 
day  they  move  here  and  there  up  the 
rocky  heights,  down  into  the  swamp 
land,  through  dense  forest  growths  ; 
each  night  their  camp-fire  glows  like  a 
coal  upon  the  edge  of  some  little  lake, 
its  ruddy  flickerings  trailing  out  over 
the  water  into  shifting  shadow  fan- 
tasies. And  the  wild  things  creep 
down  the  forest  aisles  to  peer  out  of  the 
enclosing  gloom  and  wonder,  while 
away  in  the  crowded  cities  the  news- 
papers have  announced  that  the  recon- 


naissance for  a  new  railway  is  being 
taken,  that  engineers  are  already  in 
the  field  exploring  for  a  route. 

To  locate  the  very  best  route  through 
a  vast  tract  of  unknown  country  is  a 
task  that  demands  a  thorough  knowl- 
edge of  the  work.  A  very  necessary 
part  of  the  locating  engineer's  equip- 
ment are  the  climbing  irons  with  which 
he  ascends  into  the  tree-tops  to  take 
frequent  observations  of  the  panorama 
spreading  around  him  —  hills  and 
valleys ;  ridges,  slopes  and  levels ; 
watersheds,  river  basins  and  lakes.  He 
must  avoid  boggy  places  and  ever 
keep  in  mind  maximum  gradients  and 
probable  difficulties  of  construction. 
He  may  become  separated  from  his 
guide  if  he  is  not  careful,  and  lose 
his  way,  unless  he  knows  that  insects 
lodge  under  the  bark  on  the  south  side 
of  tree-trunks,  that  the  north  side  of  an 
exposed  boulder  is  damp  and  mossy 
and  that  the  north  star  is  in  line  with 
the  front  of  the  Great  Dipper  ;  in  other 
words,  he  must  know  enough  wood- 
craft to  be  at  home  in  the  wild. 
Railway  location  depends  greatly  upon 
the  financial  and  political  limitations  of 
the  promoters,  whose  aims  must 
govern  the  locating  engineer  in  his 
explorations  quite  as  much  as  topo- 
graphical considerations. 

As  a  class  and  as  individuals  civil 
engineers  are  remarkable.  Men  who 
are  not  afraid  to  be  swallowed  up  from 
their  friends  for  months  at  a  time,  to 
camp  out  in  all  kinds  of  weather,  to 
wash  in    creeks,  drink    swamp   water 


97 


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and  live  on  crackers  and  cold  pork  ; 
men  who  can  walk  all  day  with  packs 
on  their  backs  through  tangles  of 
virgin  jungle  and  who  can  watch  a 
black-fly  take  a  bite  and  go  off  up  a 
stump  to  eat  it,  without  swearing  more 
than  might  be  forgiven — such  men  as 
these  are  surely  not  of  the  commonalty. 
But  it  is  the  Chief  Engineer  who  is  the 
man  of  qualities.  His  versatility  is 
only  equalled  by  his  common  sense  and 
executive  ability.  If  asked  the  mean- 
ing of  ** Can't"  he  could  only  stare  ; 
the  word  is  not  in  his  vocabulary.  He 
generally  has  a  back  like  a  hired  man 
and  shakes  hands  with  a  grip.     Upon 


mendations,  the  road  is  ready  for  open- 
ing up. 

The  system  is  one  of  contracts  and 
sub-contracts.  Contractors  who  have 
secured  work  direct  from  the  Company 
sub-let  to  other  contractors,  who  in 
turn  may  sub-let  to  **  station-men." 
The  latter  contract  for  work  on  per- 
haps half-a-dozen  ''  stations  "  of  six 
hundred  feet  each. 

Almost  the  first  step  is  the  making 
of  a  **tote  road,"  which  is  always  a 
big  item  of  expense  in  railway  con- 
struction. It  is  a  rough  waggon-trail, 
cleared  and  blazed  through  the  forest 
parallel  to  the  route,  to  facilitate  the 


A  TYPICAL  RAILWAY  CONSTRUCTION   CAMP  IN   NORTHERN  CANADA 


him  devolves  the  responsibility  of 
building  the  road :  placing  surveyors 
in  the  field,  draughting  plans  and 
estimates,  constructing  bridges,  boring 
tunnels,  fixing  terminals  and  doing 
many  other  things  equally  exacting. 

Many  survey  parties  are  in  the  field 
at  the  same  time — engineers,  axemen, 
tapemen,  cooks;  with  transits,  levels, 
aneroid  barometers  and  camp  para- 
phernalia. •*  Trial  lines  "  are  run  zig- 
zag along  the  reconnaissance  line  to 
discover  more  definitely  just  where  the 
railway  can  be  built  to  best  advantage 
and  at  minimum  cost.  When  a  full 
report  has  been  handed  in  with  the 
Chief  Engineer's  estimates  and  recom- 


transportation  of  supplies  to  the  vari- 
ous construction  camps.  Once  the 
railway  is  built,  the  tote  road  has  serv- 
ed its  purpose  and  is  abandoned. 

The  work  rapidly  settles  into  defi- 
nite shape.  Gangs  of  navvies — Swedes, 
Finns,  Italians,  French  and  English — 
are  at  the  points  from  which  operations 
commence,  ready  to  fall  to  work  with 
pick  and  shovel.  Axemen  hew  the 
Company's  right-of-way  through  the 
tamarack  growths,  and  behind  them 
the  air  is  filled  with  the  loud  **Gee!'' 
**Whoa-Haw!"  ''Back  you!"  of  the 
teamsters  who  are  clearing  the  ground. 
The  earth  is  ploughed  up  and  loosen- 
ed for  the  shovellers,  hauled   away  in 


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J^^ 

I^E^ 

c-^/^l 

i 

r       .5'' 

gat>.      ■''   -r^  ■'  '-    ■  .' 

A  STEAM  SHOVEL  WILL  LOAD  A  TRAIN  OF  FLAT 
CARS  IN  A  FEW  MINUTES 


carts  or  spread  and  levelled  into  em- 
bankment layers.  Here  and  there 
along  the  route  construction  camps 
are  building,  and  one  or  two  little  saw- 
mills spring  into  being. 

The  boom  of  dynamite  blasts  among 
the  hills,  and  an  incessant  clink-clink 
of  drills  are  sounds  which  may  be 
heard  wherever  railway  construction  is 
in  progress.  The  road  does  not  stop  for 
such  a  small  thing  as  a  wall  of  rock.  A 
few  blasting  charges  will  tear  a  passage- 
way through,  and  this  is  cleared  of  the 
broken  rock  debris  with  the  aid  of  cranes 
erected  at  the  sides  of  the  cutting. 


It  sometimes  happens  that  rock 
formation  is  such  that  the  slopes  of  a 
deep  cut  through  it  would  be  liable  to 
slips,  in  which  case  a  tunnel  is  neces- 
sary. Shafts  are  first  sunk  to  ascer- 
tain the  nature  of  the  ground.  A  line 
is  drawn  accurately  upon  the  surface 
above  the  tunnel's  axis,  and  through 
this  line  working  shafts  are  sunk  at 
intervals  to  the  roof  of  the  tunnel. 
The  excavated  rock  and  earth  is  taken 
out  at  both  ends  and  up  the  shafts. 
The  tunnel  is  generally  safe  without 
arch  supports  when  it  runs  through  un- 
stratified  rock;  but  in  stratified  rock, 
where  slabs  may  work  loose  at  any 
time,  a  sustaining  arch  under  the  roof 
is  an  essential.  The  drainage  is  built 
along  the  axis  underneath  the  track 
ballasting. 

Across  marshy  places  and  small 
streams  the  road  is  carried  by  means 
of  wooden  trestles.  Owing  to  the  lia- 
bility of  the  piles  decaying,  a  trestle 
over  boggy  ground  is  resorted  to  only 
as  a  temporary  expedient  to  sustain 
the  rails  at  the  proper  level  until  the 
sand  and  gravel,  with  which  the  trestle 
is  subsequently  filled  in,  has  settled 
firmly  about  the  piles  and  stringers 
into  a  substantial  embankment  sup- 
port. Permanent  trestles  across  streams 


BALLASTING  A  BIT  OF   NEWLV-LAID  TRACK.      AN   UNLOADING   PLOUGH   IS   CARRIED  ON  THE  REAR 

CAR.      A  CABLE  CONNECTS  IT  WITH  ENGINE.      BY  IT  A  TRAIN  IS  UNLOADED  IN  A  FEW 

SECONDS.      THE  T.  AND  N.  O.  RAILWAY. — PHOTO  BY  PARK,  BRANTFORD 


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THE  BUILDING  OF  A  RAILWAY 


lOI 


are  erected  on  masonry  foundations  or 
on  foundations  of  piles  sunk  through 
the    river-bed.     The    piles   are   some- 


THE  FIRST  BREAK  INTO  A  ROCKY  HILL 

times  driven  down  deep  and  a  plat- 
form foundation  built  on  top  of  them, 
but  frequently  they  are  left  far  enough 
above  ground  to  themselves  become 
the   frame  supports.     Their  tops    are 


THE  CUTTING  COMPLETED  AND  THE  RAILS 
LAID,  AWAITING  THE  BALLAST 

sawed  off  level  and  horizontal  beams  or 
*•  caps "  bolted  on  or  mortised  to 
receive  tenons.  The  uprights  are 
braced  diagonally.  Several  different 
methods  are  followed  in  trestle  build- 
ing, dependent  entirely  upon  local 
conditions. 

The  driving  apparatus  in  a  pile- 
driving  machine  consists  of  a  weight 
block  enclosed  in  two  upright  guide 
shafts.  This  ram  is  hauled  up  the 
shaft  by  hand  or  steam  and  falls  back 
on  the  head  of  the  pile.     Pile-driving 


has  been  done  also  by  exploding 
powder  charges  in  a  metal  cap  affixed 
to  the  top  of  the  pile.  By  means  of 
this  about  thirty-five  blows  can  be 
struck  every  minute  with  a  driving 
force  of  five  to  ten  feet. 

In  forming  the  roadbed  and  provid- 
ing the  drainage  necessary  to  good 
tracking,  great  care  is  exercised.  The 
bed  is  given  a  rounding  slope  from  the 
centre  and  a  thorough  system  of  ditch- 
ing. Ditches  are  also  dug  along  the 
upper    sides    of     rock-cuts,    a    short 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  TRESTLE  WORK 

distance  back  from  the  slope,  to  catch 
the  water  and  carry  it  free  of  the 
cutting. 

With    the   commencement  of  track 
laying,  the  new  railway  begins  to  take 


PILES  FOR  TRESTLE  WORK 

definite  shape.  Sawmills  have  been 
busy  turning  out  cross-ties  which  lie 
scattered  and  piled  all  along  the  finished 


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STRAIGHTENING    AND    DOUBLE    TRACKING    THE    MAIN    LINE    OF    THE    GRAND    TRUNK    JUST 

EAST  OF   TORONTO.       THE    LARGE    STEAM    SHOVEL    IS    MAKING   THE    SECOND   CUT 

THROUGH     **  HOG'S    BACK,"    WHILE   THE   MEN    IN    THE   FOREGROUND  ARE 

BORING    HOLES   IN    THE    ROCK    PREPARATORY   TO    BLASTING 


roadway.  They  are  quickly  laid  in 
place  and  workmen  swarm  about  the 
heavy  steel  rails  alongside.  These  are 
picked  up  with  lifting  irons,  carried 
into  position,  rapidly  spiked,  and  the 
great  disjointed  serpent  that  has  been 
straggling  its  length  of  wood  and  metal 
down  the  vista  between  the  forest  walls, 
slowly  wriggles  out  of  the  ditch  and 
settles  into  parallels  of  steel.  The 
rapidity  with  which  track  can  be  laid 
is  greatly  increased  where  a  track- 
laying  machine  is  used,  the  rate  of 
advance  being  about  a  mile  per  day. 

In  building  the  curves,  care  is  taken 
to  elevate  the  outer  rail.  The  height 
of  this  elevation  depends  upon  the 
sharpness  of  the  curve;  for,  as  the 
centrifugal  force  will  drive  the  wheels 
of  a  railway  carriage  towards  the  out- 
side rail,  so  the  elevation  of  the  latter 
will  bring  into  play  a  gravity  force 
counteracting  towards  the  inside  rail. 
It  is  this  elevation  that  allows  a  train 
to  speed  around  a  curve  without  danger 
of  leaping  the  rails. 

The  gauge  generally  adopted  gives 
the  track  a  width  of  four  feet,  eight 
and  one-half  inches.  Although  there 
are  arguments  in  favorof  narrow-gauge 
railroads,  yet  these  are  over-balanced 


by  the  inconvenience  that  would  result 
from  the  adoption  of  a  narrower  gauge 
than  is  in  general  use,  rendering 
impossible  the  handling  of  other  lines' 
cars. 

When  the  track  is  down,  ballasting 
is  in  order  and  a  very  important  factor 
it  is  in  good  construction  work.  Upon 
the  ballasting  depends  the  elasticity  of 
the  roadbed.  It  supports  the  ties  on 
all  sides,  keeps  the  track  in  line, 
carries  off  rainwater  and,  by  drainage, 
lessens  the  action  of  frost.  Gravel  is 
in  most  general  use  in  this  country  ; 
coarse,  clean  gravel  drains  well  and  is 
easily  surfaced.  Heavy  sand  is  also 
used  but  is  dusty  in  summer,  which  is 
not  good  for  rolling  stock.  Just  how 
much  ballast  is  to  be  laid  on  the  road- 
bed will  be  determined  by  the  Com- 
pany's finances.  The  depth  will 
probably  average  fourteen  inches. 
Ballast  pits  are  opened  up  along  the 
route  and  the  road  ballasted  by  train- 
loads.  The  track  is  first  lined  and 
surfaced  with  a  light  *Mift "  of  the 
coarsest  material  to  hand  before  the 
ballast  trains  can  be  allowed  to  run  at 
any  speed  over  the  new  track.  If  they 
do  not  go  slowly  when  the  track  is 
lying  without  ballast  support,  rails  will 


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THE  BUILDING  OF  A  RAILWA  Y 


103 


ANOTHER    VIEW    OF    THE    **  HOG'S    BACK"    CUT    ON    GRAND    TRUNK,    SHOWING    THE    CUTTING 

AS    IT    APPEARED    AFTER     BEING     LOWERED     22     FEET,    AND     PREVIOUS    TO    THE    FINAL 

CUT    OF  THE  SHOVEL.       THE   CUT   IS   WIDE  ON    ACCOUNT  OF    THE  DOUBLE  TRACK 


bend,  angle  bars  crack  and  the  track  shift 
out  of  line.  A  second  "lift"  is  tamped 
and  packed  around  the  ties  and  sup- 
ports until  the  track  is  solid  ;  a  single 
loose  tie  will,  under  traffic,  work  a 
hole  in  the  ballast,  making  a  lodging- 
place  for  water  which  will  soon  under- 
mine the  rail  and  cause  the  track  to 
sag.  The  final  lift  of  ballasting  is  of 
finer  material  and  is  laid  on  for  finish- 
ing purposes. 

In  a  ballast  pit,  the  feature  of  inter- 
est is  the  steam  shovel  which  loads  the 
sand  and  gravel  on  to  the  fiat-cars. 
In  mechanism  it  is  like  a  dredge,  and 
is  built  upon  trucks  of  its  own,  so  that 
it  can  be  easily  moved  from  place  to 
place.  The  scoop  is  driven  by  steam; 
and  the  swinging  gear  is  operated  by 
chains  and  cogs.  The  shovel  is  rang- 
ed alongside  the  pit  embankment  and 
the  empty  cars  run  slowly  past  it  by 
means  of  a  cable  attached  to  a  horse- 
power sweep. 

The  last  car  of  a  ballast  train  carries 
an  unloading  plough  attached  to  the 
engine  by  means  of  a  wire  cable  run- 
ning over  the  tops  of  the  fiat-cars.  The 
plough  is  dragged  from  end  to  end  of 
the  train,  and  is  capable  of  emptying 
fifteen  cars  in  less  than  four  minutes. 

Life  in    the   construction    camps  is 


much  the  same  as  that  of  the  lumber- 
men. The  living  room  is  a  long  shanty 
with  bunks  ranging  around  the  walls, 
and  connected  with  this  by  a  roofed 
passageway  is  the  cook-house,  the  do- 
main of  the  cook  and  his  assistant, 
where  the  immense  iron  oven  is  always 
hot  and  the  long  plank  tables  are  spread 
with  great  quantities  of  food.  It  is  in- 
variably a  hungry  lot  that  *'  wash  up" 
for  supper  after  work  is  over  for  the 
day. 

An  idea  seems  to  be  prevalent  among 
many  people  that  things  are  carried  on 
in  the  roughest  of  rough  styles  up  in 
the  woods.  While  this  may  be  true  in 
some  instances,  it  is  not  so  within  the 
precincts  of  a  well-ordered  construc- 
tion camp.  When  the  **cookee" 
pounds  the  gong,  or  blows  the  horn, 
or  shouts,  as  the  case  may  be,  there  is 
no  wild  stampede  into  the  cook-house, 
though  certainly  the  summons  to  eat 
is  promptly  obeyed.  Each  man  quiet- 
ly steps  over  the  long  bench  with  the 
sapling  legs,  and  sits  down  in  front  of 
the  nearest  tin  pannican  and  iron  knife 
and  fork.  He  helps  himself,  but  he 
does  not  grab.  There  are  no  cries  of: 
**  Sling  up  the  punk,  Bill,"  or  **Toss 
over  them  murphies,"  or  **  Here,  you, 
give's  the  cow."     That  sort  of  thing 


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*  RIVER    ROUGE    FILL       ON    GRAND    TRUNK    SYSTEM,     1 7    MILES   EAST   OF   TORONTO.       THE 

HARD    PAN    OUT    OF    HOG'S    BACK    CUT    WAS    USED    TO    RAISE    THIS    BIT    OF    TRACK 

TWENTY    FEET.      IT   IS  RAISED  STEADILY  FOOT   BY   FOOT,  CONSTRUCTION 

AND    OTHER    TRAINS    PASSING    OVER    IT    ALMOST    AS    USUAL. 


is  not  tolerated,  for  with  a  hundred  or 
more  famished  men  kicking  up  a  clam- 
our, the  cook  and  the  cookee  would 
simply  be  driven  out  of  their  wits.  As 
it  is,  they  are  kept  continually  on  the 
go  to  replenish  the  table. 

Pork  and  beans  is  a  fixture  on  the 
bill  of  fare;  it  is  a  diet  that  has  yet  to 
be  improved  upon  where  men  are 
working  hard  in  the  open  air.  Pork 
and  beans  for  breakfast,  beans  and 
pork  for  dinner,  both  for  tea — always 
hot  and  wholesome  and  sustaining; 
those  beans,  a  meal  for  an  epicure 
if  he  is  hungry!  Then  there  are  soups 
and  stews  and  good  wheaten  bread, 
and  pies  and  German  doughnuts,  and 
boilers  of  steaming  tea  and  coffee,  with 


real  evaporated  cream  to  go  with  it. 
After  supper  the  men  smoke  pipes, 
chat  for  awhile,  turn  in  and  sleep 
soundly,  get  up  early  and  go  to  work 
again. 

So  the  days  pass,  the  weeks  pass, 
the  winter  passes,  the  summer  comes 
and  the  heat  and  the  flies,  but  steadily 
on  creeps  the  new  railway  until  at  last 
comes  the  gala  day.  This  is  the  day 
which  the  promoters  have  had  in  mind 
since  the  government  charts  and  maps 
were  first  examined — the  day  when  the 
first  train,  bedecked  with  flags,  makes 
the  initial  run  and  the  new  road  stands 
complete,  a  monument  to  national 
prosperity  and  and  another  step  in  the 
development  of  public  interests. 


a  third  view  of 
**hog's  back" 


STEAM   SHOVEL 
HALF  WAY  THROUGH 
ON   FINAL  CUT 


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THOMAS   HARDY 


PHOTO  BY  LONDON    STEREOSCOPIC  CO. 


LITERARY   PORTRAITS* 

By  HALDANE  MACFALL,  Author  of  ''The  Masterfolk;'  etc. 
II.— THOMAS    HARDY 


jHROUGH  dreamy,  sincere 
eyes,  the  large  soul  of 
Thomas  Hardy  looks  out 
upon  a  sad  world  for  which 
his  great  heart  aches  with 
an  infinite  pity.  He  see  the  immortals 
for  ever    making    sport    of    all    poor 


human  things  here  below.  He  sighs 
to  think  how  small  a  thing  is  the  hero- 
ism of  the  greatest  amongst  us — nay, 
even  their  loftiest  ambitions — com- 
pared to  the  vastness  of  the  huge 
universe  of  which  this  earth  is  but 
a  little  trifling  star.     When  all  man's 


*  Cop3rrig'hted  in  Great  Britain  and  the  United  States. 


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endeavour  is  summed  up,  what  a  poor 
basketful  of  insignificance  it  is,  set 
down  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains 
of  time  !  He  sighs  at  the  cruelty  of 
nature  that  can  order  so  hard  a  road 
for  the  poor  wounded  feet  of  man  to 
travel — the  poor  worn  with  toil,  the 
rich  harassed  with  discontent,  the  wise 
unable  to  attain  more  than  the  scraps 
of  wisdom. 

Seeing  the  world  through  the  grey 
glasses  of  pessimism,  the  light  goes 
out  of  his  heaven.  He  flinches  from 
the  brutality  of  life — the  hawk  striking 
down  the  linnet,  tearing  to  pieces  its 
exquisite  design — the  wolf  flying  at  the 
throat  of  the  lamb — the  ferret's  crafty 
attack  on  the  timid  hare.  Everywhere 
life  taking  life.  No  refuge  from  the  un- 
ending struggle.  Success  in  life — 
what  is  it  but  the  tale  of  other  hearts 
broken  ?  What  is  the  rich  man's 
palace  but  the  sign  of  other  homes 
made  desolate  ?  Everywhere  is  strife, 
pursuit,  sorrow,  suffering — the  rich 
trampling  down  the  poor.  At  the  end 
of  all  life's  striving — the  grave  !  What 
is  commerce  but  the  getting  the  better 
of  one's  neighbour  ?  At  every  hand  the 
strong  overthrowing  the  weak. 

Behind  Hardy's  kindly,  ready  laugh, 
behind  his  grim  sense  of  humour,  be- 
hind his  demure  manner  and  frank 
gaze,  we  feel  this  constant  dogged 
effort  to  set  aside  the  veil  that  hides 
the  mystery  of  life.  His  large  human- 
ity, his  love  of  every  created  thing, 
reels  from  the  cruelty  of  nature,  shrinks 
in  horror  from  the  fact  of  the  creation 
of  so  exquisite  a  thing  as  Life  to  be 
destroyed  in  so  horrible  a  thing  as 
Death. 

And  it  is,  perhaps,  in  his  depiction 
of  the  agony  of  the  burden  that  is  the 
destiny  of  the  world's  most  beautifully 
created  thing.  Woman,  that  the  largest 
sense  of  his  humanity  cries  out.  It  is 
for  this  brutality  of  all  brutalities  that 
he  seems  to  be  most  heavily  sorrowful. 
In  a  series  of  superb  studies  of  women, 
of  the  unsophisticated  women  of  rural 
life,  the  country  town,  and  the  village, 
he  insists  on  the  tragic  burden  of  their 
womanhood. 

Everywhere  he  sees  sorrow  and  pain. 


The  very  intellect  that  raises  man 
above  the  brute,  what  does  it  do  to 
bring  happiness  to  poor,  stumbling*, 
blundering  man?  It  but  dangles  hopes 
and  ambitions  and  joys  as  lures  before 
his  eyes  to  decoy  him  into  struggling 
for  them,  and,  in  the  strife,  to  push 
others  down.  The  intellect,  man's 
boast  over  the  brute — it  is  the  crown 
of  thorns  !  It  cannot  give  happiness, 
it  often  brings  madness,  it  is  swallow- 
ed in  the  grave  of  time. 

This  conviction  of  the  cruelty  of 
nature  and  of  life  Hardy  has  expressed 
through  a  series  of  novels  of  country 
life  that  place  him  supreme  amongst 
the  English  masters  of  the  prose  pas- 
toral. It  may,  at  first  sight,  seem 
strange  that  the  voice  of  the  country- 
side, finding  tongue  through  the  genius 
of  Hardy,  should  compel  our  minds  to 
dwell  on  the  cruelty  of  nature.  We 
are  accustomed  to  think  of  the  country 
as  giving  us  the  healthy  strong  man, 
the  vigorous  race.  But  it  is  a  strange 
fact  that  it  is  not  in  the  towns  but 
amongst  the  rural  folk  that  melancholy 
most  dwells,  and  madness  finds  its 
largest  prey ;  just  as  it  is  a  strange 
fact  that  the  greatest  landscape  painter 
of  the  world  was  born  and  bred  in  the 
dingy  house  of  a  narrow  London  street; 
just  as  we  find  that  the  Irish,  a  merry 
folk  by  repute,  are  at  heart  amongst 
the  saddest  people  in  the  world.  There 
broods  always  over  the  country,  even 
in  its  most  beautiful  landscapes,  a 
sense  of  sadness,  the  hint  of  a  sigh, 
such  as  one  rarely  feels  in  the  toil-worn 
streets  of  cities. 

The  life  of  the  fields  is  nearer  to 
nature — toil  is  on  a  heavier  ground — 
labour  is  lower,  more  tedious — longer 
in  yielding  its  results.  The  day  is 
more  lonely.  Death  is  more  insistent, 
more  known,  oftener  seen,  nearer  when 
it  comes,  hides  itself  less  from  the 
gaze.  In  London  how  rarely  we  re- 
alise that  anyone  is  dying !  In  a  vil- 
lage, death  brings  a  solemn  dignity  and 
a  hush  to  the  smallest  cottage — -the 
coming  of  death  sets  every  tongue 
a-gossip. 

It  is  through  the  personality  of 
Thomas  Hardy,  and  in  and  by  his  fine 


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LITERARY  PORTRAITS 


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novels,  that  we  feel  the  pathos  and  the 
quaint  humour  of  the  country  side  ;  it 
is  in  his  pictures  of  life  that  we  are 
made  to  feel  not  only  that  the  life  of 
the  village  is  as  romantic  as  the  life  of 
the  stately  homes  that  dominate  the 
village,  but  we  are  shyly  shown  that 
the  lord  who  lives  in  pomp  and  circum- 
stance in  the  stately  home  passes  into 
the  handsome  tomb  as  the  villager 
passes  into  his  simple  grave,  all  in  the 
selfsame  God's-acre;  and  the  obliterat- 
ing earth,  and  the  wind  and  the  rain 
blot  out  in  time  the  very  record  of  their 
virtues  in  stone,  as  they  wear  away  the 
simple  tombstones  of  the  poor,  and  all 
are  in  time  forgotten. 

It  is  remarkable  that  it  is  in  Eng- 
land's great  pastoral  poem,  Grey's 
"Elegy  in  a  Country  Churchyard," 
that  we  find  the  greatest  pessimistic 
poem  of  the  English  language — pessi- 
mistic as  the  ''Rubaiyat"  of  Omar 
Khayyam. 

As  alleviation  for  the  sadness  of  life, 
the  Eastern  genius  of  Omar  Khayyam 
found  wine  and  a  book,  a  loaf  and  the 
love  of  a  girl.  The  pessimism  of  the 
mediaeval  Church  found  it  in  the  hope 
of  a  future  state  of  bliss.  Hardy  finds 
in  it  a  vast  pity  for  all  suffering  things. 
The  life  beyond  the  drawn  curtain  of 
death  is  beyond  his  ken — beyond  his 
guessing.  He  is  filled  with  a  wide 
pity  and  a  generous  charity  for  every 
suffering  thing  upon  this  earth;  and  in 
his  desire  to  mitigate  all  suffering. 
Hardy  finds  that  which  makes  for  the 
beautifying  of  life. 

The  pessimistic  genius  can  never  be 
so  stimulating  to  a  vigorous  life  for 
mankind  as  the  optimistic  genius;  nor 
its  impulse  so  forward  urging  towards 
fuller  existence  and  the  emancipation 
of  the  race.  It  is  the  man  that  be- 
lieves the  Designer  to  have  made  a 
glorious  world,  the  man  that  looks 
upon  life  as  a  splendid  wayfaring,  who 
lifts  the  world  upon  his  shoulders. 
The  most  supremely  noble  pessimist 
(and  Hardy  is  near  the  throne)  can  at 
best  but  sit  at  the  hearth  of  his  sad 
world  and  pile  up  the  fire  in  the  hope 
to  mitigate  the  biting  frost  for  others; 
but  the  optimist  holds  the  sun  to  the 


earth,  and  his  very  joyousness  sets  the 
world  a-singing. 

Born  some  sixty-three  years  ago,  in 
his  beloved  Wessex,  that  is  the  back- 
ground to  his  pastoral  tragedies  and 
comedies,  Thomas  Hardy  was  school- 
ed in  the  art  of  architecture— ^indeed, 
threatened  to  reach  early  distinction  in 
the  building  of  churches — but  the 
building  of  prose  was  making  a  more 
urgent  call  upon  his  temperament.  At 
thirty-one  he  discarded  bricks  and 
stone,  and  some  toying  with  verse,  to 
make  his  first  and  most  unpromising 
essay  in  fiction  with  a  sensational  story 
of  the  kind  then  in  vogue.  At  thirty- 
two,  however,  with  **Under  the  Green- 
wood Tree,"  he  entered,  haltingly 
enough,  to  be  sure,  into  his  kingdom, 
and  first  uttered  the  voice  of  the  su- 
preme English  master  of  the  pastoral 
novel.  But  it  was  not  until  his  thirty- 
fourth  year  that  **Far  From  the  Mad- 
ding Crowd"  noised  abroad  the  fact 
that  a  genius  had  arrived  amongst  us. 
In  his  thirty-eighth  year  came  the  sub- 
lime, the  deepest  and  the  most  perfect 
of  his  tragedies,  **The  Return  of  the 
Native." 

With  his  fifty-first  year  he  complete- 
ly changed  his  manner,  and  gave  us 
the  realistic  **Tess  of  the  D'Urbervil- 
les,"  and,  four  years  later,  **Jude  the 
Obscure."  The  supremacy  of  sheer 
beauty  of  artistry  had  now  given  place 
to  the  domination  of  the  spirit  of  hu- 
manity, of  righteous  indignation,  and 
of  the  vast  pity  which  has  always  stir- 
red his  genius.  These  two  books  were 
violently  attacked  for  what  is  called 
their  **realism,"  by  which  the  critic  and 
the  public  generally  seem  to  mean  such 
a  treatment  of  sex  as  is  not  the  ordin- 
ary romantic  conception  of  it  in  fiction. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  powerful  and 
great  as  **Tess"  is,  some  colour  was 
lent  to  the  charge  by  the  tendency  on 
Hardy's  part  to  exaggerate  his  chief 
literary  defect  in  these  two  novels — a 
defect  which  is  the  marked  characteris- 
tic of  the  realistic  movement — a  habit 
of  over-elaborate  detail,  and  of  wander- 
ing away  into  unessential  descriptions 
and  side-issues  from  the  path  of  his 
plot.     But  the  truth  was  that  Hardy 


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had  joined  the  younger  men  in  a  su- 
preme effort  to  break  from  the  cramp- 
ing convention  into  which  the  novel  had 
fallen — for  the  nineties  saw  a  general 
movement  in  letters  to  break  away 
from  the  **rose- water" school.  '*Tess," 
striking  the  first  strong  blow,  was  bit- 
terly assailed,  and  had  to  bear  the 
brunt  of  the  attack.  Meredith  says 
somewhere:  **Nature  will  force  her 
way,  and  if  you  try  to  stifle  her  by 
drowning  she  comes  up,  not  the  fairest 


part  of  her  uppermost."  In  **Jude  the 
Obscure**  there  is  a  suspicion  of  this 
unseemliness.  But  the  attack  on 
Hardy  was  childish.  His  style,  limpid 
and  pure,  was  never  more  masterly 
than  in  these  books;  his  drawing  of 
character  was  never  more  subtle  nor 
more  sure.  And,  to  rank  immortal,  it 
is  on  its  creation  of  character  that  the 
novel  must  finally  stand  at  the  bar  of 
judgment.  Hardy  rests  to-day  secure 
of  his  bays. 


THE    STRUGGLE    BETWEEN    RUSSIA 

AND    JAPAN 


By  THE  EDITOR 


JAPAN  regards  the  independ- 
ence of  Korea  as  absolutely 
essential  to  her  own  repose 
and  security.  Japan  also 
believes  that  the  indefinite 
occupation  ot  Manchuria  by  Russia 
would  be  a  continual  menace  to   the 


NICHOLAS   II— THE   CZAR   OF   RUSSIA 


Hence  the    present 
that    Empire    and 


Korean    Empire, 
struggle   between 
Russia. 

For  three  hundred  years  Russia 
has  been  steadily  pushing  her  way 
eastward  from  the  Ural  Mountains  to 
the  Pacific  coast.  During  the  last 
fifty  years  she  has  secured  much 
Chinese  territory.  In  1857  Britain 
and  France  quarrelled  with  China, 
invaded  her  territory  and  occupied 
Pekin.  Russia  used  her  influence 
to  assist  China  in  securing  a  settle- 
ment and  have  the  invading  armies 
withdrawn,  subsequently  obtaining 
for  her  services  a  large  portion  of 
territory  just  north  of  the  Amur 
River.  To  protect  this  territory 
she  built  Vladivostock,  which  she 
thought  would  be  a  satisfactory  Pa- 
cific Ocean  port.  In  1891,  with  the 
present  Emperor  as  the  guiding 
spirit  of  the  undertaking,  she  began 
to  build  the  Trans-Siberian  Railway 
from  St.  Petersburg  to  Vladivo- 
stock. Experience  soon  showed 
that  this  port  was  not  satisfactory 
because  it  was  ice-bound  several 
months  of  the  year.  Investigation 
also  proved  that  the  Railway  could 
not  be  profitably  run  through  Rus- 
sian territory  north  of  the  Amur 
River. 

Having  arrived  at  this  point  Rus- 
sian diplomacy  began  to  look  for  a 


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109 


more  southerly  and  more  direct  route 
from  Lake  Baikal  to  Vladivostock 
across  Manchuria,  and  for  a  new 
ocean  terminus  farther  south  where 
Russian  ships  might  enter  all  the 
year  round.  A  Russian  Ukase  of 
December  23rd,  1896,  authorized  the 
formation  of  the  Eastern  China  Rail- 
way Company,  consisting  exclusive- 
ly of  Russian  and  Chinese  sharehold- 
ers. The  line  which  this  railway 
follows  starts  at  Kaidalovo  on  the 
Trans-Siberian  Railway,  440  miles 
east  of  Lake  Baikal,  and  strikes 
southeasterly  across  Manchuria  to 
Kharbin.  Here  it  bifurcates,  one 
branch  extending  to  Vladivostock 
and  a  second  to  Port  Arthur.  This 
was  the  first  step  in  the  new  move- 
ment. 

This  movement  was  not  made 
without  the  opposition  of  Japan.  In 
1894  she  declared  war  against  China, 
ostensibly  over  Korea.  The  Jap- 
anese captured  Port  Arthur  and 
the  Liaotung  Peninsula,  and  march- 
ed on  Pekin.  At  this  point  the 
European  Powers  intervened  and 
a  treaty  of  peace  was  negotiated. 
By  it  China  recognized  the  full  and 
complete  independence  of  Korea>  and 
agreed  to  pay  Japan  an  indemnity 
of  $100,000,000  and  to  cede  to  her  the 
Liaotung  Peninsula.  It  was  a  great 
victory  for  Japan.  But  the  wily  Li 
Hung  Chang,  who  had  charge  of  the 
negotiations,  had  previously  arranged 
with  Russia  that  Japan  should  be  pre- 
vented from  permanently  occupying 
the  Liaotung  Peninsula.  According- 
ly, a  few  days  after  the  treaty  was 
signed,  Russia,  Germany  and  France 
protested  against  the  Japanese  occupa- 
tion of  that  territory.  This  was  a  sad 
blow  to  Japanese  hopes.  To  hold 
what  the  treaty  gave  her  she  must 
have  fought  the  three  great  Powers, 
an  impossibility  for  her  at  that  time. 
Accordingly,  she  surrendered  what  she 
had  so  valorously  won,  and  decided 
to  await  the  turn  of  events. 

Soon  afterwards,  German  activity  in 
North  China  was  used  by  Russia  as  a 
reason  for  occupying  the  Liaotung 
Peninsula  and  fortifying  Port  Arthur. 


MUTSUHITO — EMPEROR  OF  JAPAN,    1867-1904 

This  happened  in  the  last  month  of 
1897.  Thus  at  the  beginning  of  1898 
Japan  found  herself  face  to  face  with 
her  rival  in  the  Yellow  Sea.  Nor  has 
diplomacy  nor  international  event  serv- 
ed to  drive  Russia  back  one  foot  from 
what  she  then  obtained.  The  more 
recent  troubles  with  China  failed  to 
shake  Russia's  hold  on  Manchurian  ter- 
ritory, or  to  induce  her  to  withdraw 
any  of  her  troops  from  that  portion  of 
the  Chinese  Empire. 

When  it  became  evident  that  Russia 
intended  to  hold  Manchuria  at  all  costs, 
Japan  prepared  for  eventualities.  Her 
already  strong  army  was  strengthened, 
and  her  already  large  navy  was  en- 
larged. The  lesson  of  fifty  years  of 
Russian  advance  was  too  strong  to  be 
ignored — Turkestan,  Amur,  Saghalien, 
Manchuria,  Port  Arthur  were  among 
the  signposts.  There  must  be  a 
struggle,  a  fight  to  the  bitter  end,  or 
else  Japan  should  forever  remain  a 
small  island  Empire. 


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In  July  of  last  year,  Japan  invited 
Russia  to  confer  upon  the  subject  of 
securingc  a  friendly  adjustment  of  all 
questions  relating  to  Manchuria  and 
Korea.  Japan  probably  knew  that  an 
agreement  was  unlikely,  but  neverthe- 
less she  resolved  to  try  direct  diplo- 
macy. In  August  the  Japanese  Min- 
ister at  St.  Petersburg  presented  to  the 
Russian  Government  a  basis  of  agree- 
ment in  which  both  countries  were  to 
guarantee  the  independence  and  in- 
tegrity of  China  and  Korea  and  to 
maintain  the  principle  of  equal  oppor- 
tunity for  the  commerce  and  industry 
of  all  nations  in  both  these  countries. 

Russia  positively  refused  to  consider 
Manchuria  as  outside  her  sphere  of 
action,  or  to  agree  that  all  nations 
should  have  equal  opportunities  of 
commerce  and  industry  in  that  district. 
She  had  built  a  railway  across  it,  she 
had  fortified  Port  Arthur,  she  had  the 
right  to  maintain  troops  there  for  the 
preservation  of  order ;  these  rights  she 
would  not  surrender  for  **the  open 
door."  So  far  as  Korea  was  concerned, 
Russia  agreed  that  Japan  had  some 
rights  there  but  claimed  some  herself. 
She  wanted  a  neutral  zone  in  Northern 
Korea  which  would  be  left  open  for 
both  nations.  Japan  had  an  experience 
of  neutral  zones  and  joint  occupation 
in  Saghalien  and  knew  quite  well  what 
such  an  arrangement  would  mean. 

Negotiations  were  continued  at 
Tokio  and  the  Russian  Ambassador 
there  went  so  far  as  to  settle  upon 
certain  concessions  which  Russia  might 
make.  In  October,  these  concessions 
were  forwarded  to  St.  Petersburg  for 
confirmation.  No  answer  was  received 
until  December,  and  then  the  conces- 
sions were  refused.  Japan  then  pre- 
sented another  modified  note  and 
waited  for  an  answer  until  early  in  the 
second  month  of  the  present  year.  On 
February  5th,  the  Japanese  Minister  at 
St.  Petersburg  presented  a  note  to  the 
Russian  Government  severing  diplo- 
matic relations  between  the  two 
Governments.  On  the  night  of  Febru- 
ary 8th  the  Japanese  fleet  attacked 
Port  Arthur. 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that  the  present 


war  is  not  an  accidental  event.  It  is 
the  result  of  fifty  years  of  Russian 
aggression  in  the  East,  of  fifty  years 
of  Russian  determination  to  be  a  power 
on  the  Pacific.  By  playing  the  part  of 
friend  to  China  whenever  that  great 
hulking  aggregation  of  individuals  got 
into  trouble,  she  has  gradually  acquired 
possession  of  Northern  China  which 
she  has  crossed  with  railways  and 
guarded  with  fortifications,  armies  and 
fleets.  A  few  years  more  and  Korea 
would  have  come  under  her  sway. 
Then  Japan  would  have  had  Russian 
guns  pointed  across  almost  the  whole 
of  her  territory.  When  that  stage  was 
reached,  what  could  forty-five  milliobs 
of  people  hope  to  hold  against  one 
hundred  and  fifty  millions,  if  the  latter 
chose  to  be  aggressive? 

Unfortunately  for  Russian  designs 
and  ambitions,  Japan  has  suddenly 
become  a  modern  nation.  Before  1850 
the  Japs  were  forbidden  by  their  rulers 
either  to  leave  the  country  or  to  have 
intercourse  with  foreigners.  In  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye  this  exclusion 
policy  was  changed.  In  1867,  Mut- 
suhito,  the  present  progressive  Em- 
peror, came  to  the  throne  with  new 
ideas.  He  was  determined  to  introduce 
Western  civilization  :  constitutional 
government,  representative  institu- 
tions, equality  before  the  law,  impartial 
administration  of  justice,  a  broad  sys- 
tem of  education,  modern  industrial 
methods  and  a  progressive  army  and 
navy.  In  fifty  years  Japan  has  been 
transformed  friom  a  position  similar  to 
that  in  which  China  is  still  content,  to 
that  occupied  by  such  countries  as 
France,  Germany,  England  and  the 
United  States.  Young  Japs  were  sent 
out  to  all  the  modern  nations  to  learn 
what  was  best  in  the  government, 
institutions  and  civilization  of  each, 
and  to  bring  back  their  information  to 
Japan.  Educationists,  administrators, 
engineers,  law*yers  and  other  teachers 
were  imported  from  all  over  the  world 
to  help  in  the  transformation.  The 
great  families  voluntarily  surrendered 
their  hereditary  estates  and  privileges, 
and  so  far  as  possible  social  and 
political  equality  was  introduced.     The 


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III 


system  of  agriculture  was  improved  ; 
the  export  of  silk  was  developed  until 
it  now  amounts  to  $3 1,000,000 a  year; 
the  coal  mines  were  operated  on 
improved  plans  so  that  9,000,000  tons 
were  produced  in  1901  ;  the  camphor 
trade  of  Formosa  was  developed  ;  the 
export  of  tea  was  enlarged  ;  a  national 
university  was  founded  ;  cotton  mills 
were  built  and  railways  were  construct- 
ed. Japan  became  a  Western  nation 
and  now  she  is  fighting  to  show  that 
she  must  hereafter  be  recognized  as 


has  increased  from  74,000,000  to  150,- 
000,000. 

Neither  Korea  nor  China  are  fit  to 
stand  against  the  Russian  advance. 
Korea  has  an  area  of  82,000  square 
miles,  a  little  more  than  the  Prov- 
ince of  Manitoba,  or  about  one- third 
of  the  Province  of  Ontario.  Its  popu- 
lation, it  is  true,  is  about  17,000,000, 
or  three  times  as  large  as  that  of  Ca- 
nada, but  that  population  is  composed 
of  ignorant  and  unprogressive  farmers. 
It  has  always  been  disputed  territory, 


MAP  SHOWING  THE   RUSSIAN   ADVANCE   IN   ASIA  DURING  THE   LAST   FIFTY 

YEARS.      THE  DISTRICT  JUST  ABOVE   VLADIVOSTOCK  WAS 

SECURED   FROM   CHINA   IN    1 855 


one  of  the  seven  or  eight  great  nations 
of  the  world. 

If  Japan  had  not  wakened  up,  no  one 
could  doubt  that  she  would  eventually 
have  been  swallowed  up,  as  China  is 
likely  to  be.  The  history  of  the  last 
fifty  years  shows  that  at  least  one- 
quarter  of  the  Chinese  Empire  has 
passed  under  other  flags,  most  of  it  to 
Russia.  All  the  district  north  of  Af- 
ghanistan and  east  of  the  Caspian  Sea 
has  passed  under  Russian  sway;  Amur 
and  Maritime,  north  of  the  Amur 
River,  were  recently  Chinese  territory; 
Manchuria  and  the  Liaotung  Peninsula 
are  still  nominally  Chinese  territory, 
but  really  part  of  the  Russian  Empire. 
In  fifty  years  the  population  of  Russia 


and  alternately  governed  by  China  and 
Japan,  and  its  people  are  not  organ- 
ized to  withstand  aggression. 

Nor  is  China  in  a  much  better  state. 
Patriotism  and  efficient  government 
are  unknown  qualities.  While  other 
nations  have  been  relying  on  military 
prowess  and  their  own  strong  arm, 
China  has  been  depending  upon  the  be- 
lief that  their  Emperor  is  the  Vicar  of 
Heaven,  the  sole  mediator  between 
God  and  man.  Mysterious  reverence 
is  the  tie  that  has  held  this  great  Em- 
pire together  since  the  time  when  the 
Roman  legions  of  Titus  were  camped 
around  the  Holy  City,  seventy  years 
after  the  birth  of  Christ;  from  the  time 
when  Egypt   and   Mesopotamia  were 


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the  dominant  powers  of  the  Eastern 
Mediterranean.  The  Emperor  is  also 
the  father  of  the  nation,  and  all  his 
children  honour  and  reverence  him. 
Only  this  and  the  efficiency  of  Chinese 
diplomacy  have  held  that  Empire  to- 
gether so  long.  Li  Hung  Chang  and 
the  present  Empress  are  the  greatest 
modern  representatives  of  this  diplo- 
macy— types  of  the  whole  nation.  Li 
Hung  Chang's  diplomacy  has  already 
been  referred  to.  The  Empress  is  **  an 
illiterate  profligate,  an  ignorant  and 
unscrupulous  concubine,  whom  fortune 


an  ally  and  the  United  States  a  friend 
of  the  Japanese.  It  is  to  Japan  that 
Western  civilization  looks  to  preserve 
the  open  door  on  the  Pacific  Coast. 
With  the  downfall  of  Japan,  would 
come  the  downfall  of  British,  German, 
French  and  American  trade  in  the 
Orient.  Hence  the  Western  world 
hopes  that  Japan  will  win. 

Even  though  the  struggle  be  a  short 
one,  it  must  be  expensive.  The  Span- 
ish-American War  was  not  prolong^ed 
but  it  cost  the  United  States  more  than 
$350,000,000.       The    South    African 


THE   RUSSIAN   BATTLESHIP   POBIEDA 

Damag'ed  by  a  Japanese  mine  on  April  13th,  at  the  time  when  the  Petropavlovsk  was  sunk 


made  mother  of  a  puppet  Emperor." 
Yet  she  wields  a  wonderful  power  at 
home  and  among  the  diplomats  of 
other  nations.  Moreover,  the  Chinese 
are  born  traders  and  artisans.  In 
their  business  qualities  they  resemble 
the  Jews.  Even  when  China  falls  they 
will  be  the  merchants  and  artisans 
of  the  earth.  The  toilers  in  Europe 
and  America  have  in  them  the  great 
competitor  of  the  future.  As  fighters 
and  governors  they  are  not  competent 
to  stand  against  the  Slav  for  a  moment. 
The  helplessness  of  Korea  and  China 
but  increases  the  difficulties  of  Japan. 
It  also  indicates  why  Great  Britain  is 


Campaign  would  rank  only  as  a  second- 
rate  war  but  the  cost  to  Great  Britain 
was  $1,200,000,000.  If  the  war  lasts 
for  any  great  length  of  time  each  Em- 
pire will  find  it  difficult  to  finance  an 
undertaking  which  may  easily  cost 
$1,000,000  per  day.  The  public  debt 
of  Russia  stands  to-day  at  about 
$4,250,000,000  and  it  is  difficult  to  see 
how  this  can  be  greatly  increased  in 
spite  of  the  enormous  size  of  the 
country.  Of  this  huge  quantity  of 
floating  securities  France  holds  more 
than  $1,400,000,000  and  France  has 
been  the  great  market  for  Russian 
securities.      The  remainder  is  held   in 

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THE  NECKLACE 


"3 


Germany,  Holland,  Belgium  or  at 
home.  Whether  these  countries  would 
be  inclined  to  increase  their  holdings 
in  order  to  protect  what  they  now  have 
remains  to  be  seen.  Japan's  debt  is 
only  about  $300,000,000  and  by  far  the 
greater  part  of  it  is  in  domestic  loans. 
It  is  one  of  the  smallest  of  national 
debts  and  on  a  per  capita  basis  is  less 
than  that  of  any  other  great  nation. 
What  financing  Japan  has  done  in  the 
outside  world  has  been  done  in  Eng- 
land. At  the  present  time  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  money  markets  are  somewhat 


overloaded  and  further  Japanese  flo- 
tations would  be  somewhat  difficult. 
As  a  preparation  for  this  War  she  has 
succeeded  in  floating  at  home  a  loan 
for  $50,000,000  and  the  enthusiasm  of 
the  people  would  probably  ensure 
further  success  of  the  same  kind  if  it 
were  needed.  Nevertheless  Russia  has 
undoubtedly  greater  resources  for  the 
raising  of  money  and  will  be  best  able 
to  finance  an  extended  war.  Japan 
will  not  fight  long — the  Liaotung 
Peninsula  and  Korea  would  probably 
satisfy  her. 


THE  NECKLACE 

By   GUY  DE  MAUPASSANT 


|HE  was  one  of  those  pretty 
and  charming  girls  who 
are  sometimes,  as  if  by  a 
mistake  of  destiny,  born  in 
a  family  of  clerks.  She 
had  no  dowry,  no  expectations,  no 
means  of  being  known,  understood, 
loved,  wedded  by  any  rich  and  dis- 
tinguished man;  and  she  let  herself 
be  married  to  a  little  clerk  at  the  Min- 
istry of  Public  Instruction. 

She  dressed  plainly  because  she 
could  not  dress  well,  but  she  was  as 
unhappy  as  though  she  had  really  fall- 
en from  her  proper  station;  since  with 
women  there  is  neither  caste  nor  rank; 
and  beauty,  grace  and  charm  act  in- 
stead of  family  birth.  Natural  fine- 
ness, instinct  for  what  is  elegant,  sup- 
pleness of  wit,  are  the  marks  of  aris- 
tocracy, and  make  from  women  of  the 
people  the  equals  of  the  very  greatest 
ladies. 

She  suffered  ceaselessly,  feeling  her- 
self born  for  aU  the  delicacies  and  all 
the  luxuries.  She  suffered  from  the 
poverty  of  her  dwelling,  from  the 
wretched  look  of  the  walls,  from  the 
worn-out  chairs,  from  the  ugliness  of 
the  curtains.  All  those  things,  of 
which    another   woman  of    her   rank 


would  never  have  been  conscious,  tor- 
tured her  and  made  her  angry.  The 
sight  of  the  little  Breton  peasant  who 
did  her  humble  housework  aroused  in 
her  regrets  which  were  despairing,  and 
distracted  dreams.  She  thought  of 
the  silent  antechambers  hung  with  Or- 
iental tapestry,  lit  by  tall  bronze  can- 
delabra, and  of  the  two  great  footmen 
in  knee  breeches  who  sleep  in  the  big 
arm-chairs,  made  drowsy  by  the  heavy 
warmth  of  the  hot-air  stove.  She 
thought  of  the  long  salons  fitted  up  with 
ancient  silk,  of  the  delicate  furniture 
carrying  priceless  curiosities,  and  of 
the  coquettish,  perfumed  boudoirs 
made  for  talks  at  five  o'clock  with  in- 
timate friends,  with  men  famous  and 
sought  after,  whom  all  women  envy 
and  whose  attention  they  all  desire. 

When  she  sat  down  to  dinner  be- 
fore the  round  table,  covered  with  a 
table-cloth  three  days'  old,  opposite  her 
husband,  who  uncovered  the  soup- 
tureen  and  declared  with  an  enchant- 
ed air:  **Ah,  the  good  pot-au-feuf  I 
don't  know  anything  better  than  that," 
she  thought  of  dainty  dinners,  of  shin- 
ing silverware,  of  tapestry  which  peo- 
pled the  walls  with  ancient  personages 
and  with  strange  birds  flying  in  the 


'Copyright  in  the    United  States  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 

2 


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midst  of  a  fairy  forest;  and  she  thought 
of  delicious  dishes  served  on  marvel- 
lous plates,  and  of  the  whispered  gal- 
lantries which  you  listen  to  with  a 
sphinx-like  smile,  while  you  are  eating 
the  pink  flesh  of  a  trout  or  the  wings 
of  a  quail. 

She  had  no  dresses,  no  jewels,  noth- 
ing. And  she  loved  nothing  but  that; 
she  felt  made  for  that.  She  would  so 
have  liked  to  please,  to  be  envied,  to 
be  charming,  to  be  sought  after. 

She  had  a  friend,  a  former  school- 
mate at  the  convent,  who  was  rich, 
and  whom  she  did  not  like  to  go  and 
see  any  more,  because  she  suffered  so 
much  when  she  came  back. 

But  one  evening  her  husband  return- 
ed home  with  a  triumphant  air,  and 
holding  a  large  envelope  in  his  hand. 

**  There,"  said  he,  **  there  is  some- 
thing for  you." 

She  tore  the  paper  sharply,  and  drew 
out  a  printed  card  which  bore  these 
words : 

**The  Minister  of  Public  Instruc- 
tion and  Mme.  Georges  Ramponneau 
request  the  honour  of  M.  and  Mme. 
Loisel's  company  at  the  palace  of  the 
Ministry  on  Monday  evening,  January 
i8th." 

Instead  of  being  delighted,  as  her 
husband  hoped,  she  threw  the  invita- 
tion on  the  table  with  disdain,  mur- 
muring: 

'*  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  with 
that?" 

**But,my  dear,  I  thought  you  would 
be  glad.  You  never  go  out,  and  this 
is  such  a  fine  opportunity.  I  had 
awful  trouble  to  get  it.  Everyone 
wants  to  go;  it  is  very  select,  and  they 
are  not  giving  many  invitations  to 
clerks.  The  whole  official  world  will 
be  there." 

She  looked  at  him  with  an  irritated 
eye,  and  she  said  impatiently: 

•*  And  what  do  you  want  me  to  put 
on  my  back?" 

He  had  not  thought  of  that.  He 
stammered: 

**Why,  the  dress  you  go  to  the 
theatre  in.  It  looks  very  well  to 
me. 

He   stopped  distracted,  seeing  that 


his  wife  was  crying.  Two  great  tears 
descended  slowly  from  the  corners  of 
her  eyes  towards  the  corners  of  her 
mouth.     He  stuttered: 

**  What's  the  matter?  What's  the 
matter  ?" 

But,  by  a  violent  effort,  she  had  con- 
quered her  grief,  and  she  replied,  W\t\\. 
a  calm  voice,  while  she  wiped  her  wet 
cheeks: 

**  Nothing.  Only  I  have  no  dress, 
and  therefore  I  can't  go  to  this  ball. 
Give  your  card  to  some  colleague 
whose  wife  is  better  equipped  than  I." 

He  was  in  despair.     He  resumed: 

''Come,  let  us  see,  Mathilde.  How 
much  would  it  cost,  a  suitable  dress, 
which  you  could  use  on  other  occa- 
sions; something  very  simple  ?" 

She  reflected  several  seconds,  mak- 
ing her  calculations  and  wondering  also 
what  sum  she  could  ask  without  draw- 
ing on  herself  an  immediate  refusal 
and  a  frightened  exclamation  from  the 
economical  clerk. 

Finally,  she  replied,  hesitatingly: 

"  I  don't  know  exactly,  but  I  think 
I  could  manage  it  with  four  hundred 
francs. " 

He  had  grown  a  little  pale,  because 
he  was  laying  aside  just  that  amount 
to  buy  a  gun  to  treat  himself  to  a  little 
shooting  next  summer  on  the  plain  of 
Nanterre,  with  several  friends  who 
went  to  shoot  larks  down  there  of  a 
Sunday..    But  he  said: 

"All  right.  I  will  give  you  four 
hundred  francs.  And  try  to  have -a 
pretty  dress." 

The  day  of  the  ball  drew  near,  and 
Mme.  Loisel.  seemed  sad,  uneasy, 
anxious.  Her  dres3  was  ready,  how- 
ever. Her  husband  said  to  her  one 
evening: 

"What  is  the  matter?  Come,  you've 
been  so  queer  these  last  three  days. " 

And  she  answered : 

"It  annoys  me  not  to  have  a  single 
jewel,  not  a  single  stone,  nothings  to 
put  on.  I  should  look  like  dis- 
tress. I  should  almost  rather  not  g^o 
at  all." 

He  resumed: 

"You  might  wear  natural  flowers. 
It's  very  stylish  at  this  time  of  the  year. 


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For  ten  francs  you  can  get  two  or 
three  magnificent  roses." 

She  was  not  convinced. 

*'No;  there's  nothing  more  humili- 
ating than  to  look  poor  among  other 
women  who  are  rich." 

But  her  husband  cried  : 

*'How  stupid  you  are  !  Go  look  up 
your  friend  Mme.  Forestier,  and  ask 
her  to  lend  you  some  jewels.  You're 
quite  thick  enough  with  her  to  do 
that." 

She  uttered  a  cry  of  joy  : 

"It's  true.     I  never  thought  of  it." 

The  next  day  she  went  to  her  friend 
and  told  of  her  distress.  Mme.  For- 
estier  went  to  a  wardrobe  with  a  glass 
door,  took  out  a  large  jewel-box, 
brought  it  back,  opened  it,  and  said  to 
Mme.  Loisel : 

"Choose,  my  dear." 

She  saw  first  of  all  some  bracelets, 
then  a  pearl  necklace,  then  a  Venetian 
cross,  gold  and  precious  stones  of  ad- 
mirable workmanship.  She  tried  on 
the  ornaments  before  the  glass,  hesitat- 
ed, could  not  make  up  her  mind  to 
part  with  them,  to  give  them  back. 
She  kept  asking : 

'*  Haven't  you  any  more?" 

**Why  yes.  Look!  I  don't  know 
what  you  like." 

All  of  a  sudden  she  discovered,  in  a 
black  satin  box,  a  superb  necklace  of 
diamonds  ;  and  her  heart  began  to  beat 
with  an  immoderate  desire.  Her  hands 
trembled  as  she  took  it.  She  fastened 
it  around  her  throat,  outside  her  high- 
necked  dress  and  remained  lost  in 
ecstasy  at  the  sight  of  herself. 

Then  she  asked,  hesitating,  filled 
with  anguish : 

'*Can  you  lend  me  thdt,  only  that?" 

**  Why  yes,  certainly." 

She  sprang  upon  the  neck  of  her 
friend,  kissed  her  passionately,  then 
fled  with  her  treasure. 


The  day  of  the  ball  arrived.  Mme. 
Loisel  made  a  great  success.  She  was 
prettier  than  them  all,  elegant,  graci- 
ous, smiling,  and  crazy  with  joy.  All 
the  men  looked  at  her,  asked  her  name, 
endeavoured  to  be  introduced.     All  the 


attaches  of  the  Cabinet  wanted  to  waltz 
with  her.  She  was  remarked  by  the 
Minister  himself. 

She  danced  with  intoxication,  with 
passion,  made  drunk  by  pleasure,  for- 
getting all,  in  the  triumph  of  her  beauty, 
in  the  glory  of  her  success,  in  a  sort  of 
cloud  happiness  composed  of  all  this 
homage,  of  all  this  admiration,  of  all 
these  awakened  desires,  and  of  that 
sense  of  complete  victory  which. is  so 
sweet  to  woman's  heart. 

She  went  away  about  four  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  Her  husband  had  been 
sleeping  since  midnight  in  a  little 
deserted  ante-room,  with  three  other 
gentlemen  whose  wives  were  having  a 
v^ry  good  time. 

He  threw  over  her  shoulders  the 
wraps  which  he  had  brought,  modest 
wraps  of  common  life,  whose  poverty 
contrasted  with  the  elegance  of  the 
ball  dress.  She  felt  this  and  wanted  to 
escape  so  as  not  to  be  remarked  by  the 
other  women,  who  were  enveloping 
themselves  in  costly  furs. 

Loisel  held  her  back. 

*'Wait  a  bit.  You  will  catcbcold 
outside.     I  will  go  and  call  a  cab." 

But  she  did  not  listen  to  him,  and 
rapidly  descended  the  stairs.  When 
they  were  in  the  street  they  did  not  find 
a  carriage  ;  and  they  began  to  look  for 
one,  shouting  after  the  cabmen  whom 
they  saw  passing  by  at  a  distance. 

They  went  down  towards  the  Seine, 
in  despair,  shivering  with  cold.  At 
last  they  found  on  the  quay  one  of 
those  ancient  noctambulant  coupes 
which,  exactly  as  if  they  were  ashamed 
to  show  their  misery  during  the  day, 
are  never  seen  round  Paris  until  after 
nightfall. 

It  took  them  to  their  door  in  the  Rue 
des  Martyrs,  and  once  more,  sadly, 
they  climbed  up  homeward.  All  was 
ended,  for  her.  And  as  to  him,  he 
reflected  that  he  must  be  at  the  Minis- 
try at  ten  o'clock. 

She  removed  the  wraps  which  cover- 
ed her  shoulders,  before  the  glass,  so  as 
once  more  to  see  herself  in  all  her  glory. 
But  suddenly  she  uttered  a  cry.  She 
had  no  longer  the  necklace  around  her 
neck  I 


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Her  husband,  already  half-undressed, 
demanded : 

'•What  is  the  matter  with  you?" 
.  She  turned  madly  towards  him : 

**I  have — I  have — IVe  lost  Mme. 
Forestier's  necklace." 

He  stood  up  distracted. 

*  'What !— How !— Impossible !" 

And  they  looked  in  the  folds  of  her 
dress,  in  the  folds  of  her  cloak,  in  her 
pockets,  everywhere.  They  did  not 
find  it. 

He  asked : 

'•You're  sure  you  had  it  on  when 
you  left  the  ball?" 

"Yes,  I  felt  it  in  the  vestibule  of  the 
palace. " 

"But  if  you  had  lost  it  in  the  street 
we  should  have  heard  it  fall.  It  must 
be  in  the  cab  ?" 

"Yes,  probably.  Did  you  take  his 
number?" 

"No.  And  you,  didn't  you  notice 
it?" 

"No." 

They  looked  thunderstruck  at  one 
another.  At  last  Loisel  put  on  his 
clothes. 

"I  shall  go  back  on  foot,"  said  he, 
"over  the  whole  route  which  we  have 
taken,  to  see  if  I  can't  find  it." 

And  he  went  out.  She  sat  waiting 
on  a  chair  in  her  ball  dress,  without 
strength  to  go  to  bed,  overwhelmed, 
without  fire,  without  a  thought. 

Her  husband  came  back  about  seven 
o'clock.     He  had  found  nothing. 

He  went  to  Police  Headquarters, 
to  the  newspaper  offices,  to  offer  a 
reward;  he  went  to  the  cab  com- 
panies— everywhere,  in  fact,  whither 
he  was  urged  by  the  least  suspicion  of 
hope. 

She  waited  all  day,  in  the  same 
condition  of  mad  fear  before  this 
terrible  calamity. 

Loisel  returned  at  night  with  a 
hollow,  pale  face ;  he  had  discovered 
nothing. 

"You  must  write  to  your  friend," 
said  he,  "that  you  have  broken  the 
clasp  of  her  necklace  and  that  you  are 
having  it  mended.  That  will  give  us 
time  to  turn  around." 

She  wrote  at  his  dictation. 


At  the  end  of  the  week  they  had  lost 
all  hope.     . 

And  Loisel,  who  had  aged  five  years, 
declared : 

"We  must  consider  how  to  replace 
that  ornament." 

The  next  day  they  took  the  box 
which  had  contained  it,  and  they  went 
to  the  jeweller  whose  name  was  found 
within.     He  consulted  his  books. 

"  It  was  not  I,  madame,  who  sold 
that  necklace ;  I  muSt  simply  have 
furnished  the  case." 

Then  they  went  from  jeweller  to 
jeweller,  searching  for  a  necklace  like 
the  other,  consulting  their  memories, 
sick  both  of  them  with  chagrin  and 
with  anguish. 

They  found  in  a  shop  at  the  Palais 
Royal  a  string  of  diamonds  which 
seemed  to  them  exactly  like  the  one 
they  looked  for.  It  was  worth  forty 
thousand  francs.  They  could  have  it 
for  thirty-six. 

So  they  begged  the  jeweller  not  to 
sell  it  for  three  days  yet.  And  they 
made  a  bargain  that  he  should  buy  it 
back  for  thirty-four  thousand  francs, 
in  case  they  found  the  other  one  before 
the  end  of  February. 

Loisel  possessed  eighteen  thousand 
francs  which  his  father  had  left  him. 
He  would  borrow  the  rest. 

He  did  borrow,  asking  a  thousand 
francs  of  one,  five,  hundred  of  another, 
five  louis  here,  three  louis  there.  He 
gave  notes,  took  up  ruinous  obli- 
gations, dealt  with  usurers,  and  all  the 
race  of  lenders.  He  compromised  all 
the  rest  of  his  life,  risked  his  signature, 
without  even  knowing  if  he  could  meet 
it ;  and,  frightened  by  the  pains  yet  to 
come,  by  the  black  misery  which  was 
about  to  fall  upon  him,  by  the  prospect 
of  all  the  physical  privations  and  of  all 
the  mortal  tortures  which  he  was  to 
suffer,  he  went  to  get  the  new  necklace, 
putting  down  upon  theT  merchant's 
counter  thirty-six  thousand  francs. 

When  Mme.  Loisel  took  back  the 
necklace,  Mme.  Forestier  said  to  her, 
with  a  chilly  manner  : 

"You  should  have  returned  it  sooner, 
I  might  have  needed  it. " 

She  did  not  open  the  case,  as   her 


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friend  had  so  much  feared.  If  she  had 
detected  the  substitution,  what  would 
she  have  thought,  what  would  she  have 
said?  Would  she  not  have  taken 
Mme.  Loisel  for  a  thief? 

Mme.  Loisel  now  knew  the  horrible 
existence  of  the  needy.  She  took  her 
part,  moreover,  all  on  a  sudden,  with 
heroism.  That  dreadful  debt  must  be 
paid.  She  would  pay  it.  They  dis- 
missed their  servant ;  they  changed 
their  lodgings  ;  they  rented  a  garret 
under  the  roof. 

She  came  to  know  what  heavy  house- 
work meant  and  the  odious  cares  of 
the  kitchen.  She  washed  the  dishes, 
using  her  rosy  nails  on  the  greasy 
pots  and  paps.  She  washed  the  dirty 
linen,,  the  shirts,  and  the  dish-cloths, 
which  she  dried  upon  a  line ;  she 
carried  the  slops  down  to  the  street 
every  morning,  and  carried  up  the 
water,  stopping  for  breath  at  every 
landing.  And,  dressed  like  a  woman 
of  the  people,  she  w^nt  to  the  fruiter, 
the  grocer,  the  butcher,  her  basket  on 
her  arm,  bargaining,  insulted,  defend- 
ing her  miserable  money  sou  by  sou. 

Each  month  they  had  to  meet  some 
notes,  renew  others,  obtain  more  time. 

Her  husband  worked  in  the  evening 
making  a  fair  copy  of  some  tradesman's 
accounts,  and  late  at  night  he  often 
copied  manuscript  for  five  sous  a  page. 

And  this  life  lasted  ten  years. 

At  the  end  of  ten  years  they  had 
paid  everything,  everything  with  the 
rates  of  usury,  and  the  accumulations 
of  the  compound  interest. 

Mme.  Loisel  looked  old  now.  She 
had  become  the  woman  of  impoverished 
households,  strong  and  hard  and  rough. 
With  frowsy  hair,  skirts  askew,  and 
red  bands,  she  talked  loud  while  wash- 
ing the  floor  with  great  swishes  of 
water.  But  sometimes,  when  her  hus- 
band was  at  the  office,  she  sat  down 
near  the  window,  and  she  thought  of 
that  gay  evening  of  Jong  ago,  of  that 
ball  where  she  had  been  so  beautiful 
and  so  feted. 

What  would  have  happened  if  she 
had  not  lost  that  necklace?  Who 
knows?  How  life  is  strange  and 
changeful!      How    little    a    thing    is 


needed  for  us  to  be  lost  or  to  be 
saved  ! 

But,  one  Sunday,  having  gone  to 
take  a  walk  in  tKe  Champs  Elysees  to 
refresh  herself  from  the  labours  of  the 
week,  she  suddenly  perceived  a  woman 
who  was  leading  a  child.  It  was 
Mme. Forestier,  $till  young,  still  beauti- 
ful, still  charming. 

Mme.  Loisel  felt  moved.  Was  she 
going  to  speak  to  her  ?  Yes,  certainly. 
And  now  that  she  had  paid,  she  was 
going  to  tell  her  all  about  it.  Why 
not? 

She  went  up. 

**  Good-day,  Jeanne." 

The  other,  astonished  to  be  famil- 
iarly addressed  by  this  plain  good- 
wife,  did  not  recognize  her  at  all  and 
stammered : 

**  But — Madame  ! — I  do  not  know — 
You  must  have  mistaken." 

••No.     I  am  Mathilde  Loisel," 

Her  friend  uttered  a  cry. 

••Oh,  my  poor  Mathilde!  How 
you  are  changed. ! " 

••  Yes,  I  have  had  days  hard  enough, 
since  I  have  seen  ,you,  days  wretched 
enough — and  that  because  of  you  !  *' 

'•Of  me!     How  so?" 

••Do  you  remember  that  diamond 
necklace  which  you  lent  me  to  wear 
at  the  ministerial  ball  ?  " 

••Yes.     Well?" 

••Well,  I  lost  it." 

••  What  do  you  mean  ?  You  brought 
it  back." 

••.I  brought  you  back  another  just 
like  it.  And  for  this  we  have  been 
ten  years  paying.  You  can  understand 
that  it  was  not  easy  for  us,  who  had 
nothing.  At  last  it  is  ended,  and  I  am 
very  glad." 

Mme.  Forestier  had  stopped. 

•  •  You  say  you  bought  a  necklace  of 
diamonds  to  replace  mine  ?  " 

••  Yes.  You  never  noticed  it  then  ? 
They  were  very  like."  And  she  smiled 
with  a  joy  which  was  proud  and  naive 
at  once. 

Mme.  Forestier,  strongly  moved, 
took  her  two  hands. 

*•  Oh,  my  poor  Mathilde  !  Why,  my 
necklace  was  paste.  It  was  worth  at 
most  five  hundred  francs  ! " 


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DIPLOMATS    SACRIFICE 

A  RACING  STORY 
By   IV.  A.  FRASER,  author  of  '' Mooswa^'  ''Thoroughbreds,''  etc. 


AM  **Jim,"  a  cab  horse. 
In  the  stables  I  am  known 
as  No.  17. 

It  seems  queer,  this 
London  world,  with  its 
cockney  slang — queer  to  me,  for  I  was 
born  in  Australia  twelve  years  ago. 
Bli'  me  ! — there,  you  see,  that's  Larri- 
kin; it  will  out — but  it  was  different 
out  there. 

I  was  a  prince,  had  royal  blood  in 
my  veins  ;  but  still  I  didn't  learn  to 
write  or  anything  till  I  came  to  London 
and  got  into  the  ni^ht  school  for  cab 
horses.  That's  why  I  never  told  this 
story  before. 

I  was  two  years  old  when  Trainer 
Southall  came  down  from  Calcutta  and 
bought  me,  and  three  other  colts  that 
could  gallop  a  bit,  from  White — bought 
me  to  race  in  India.  It  was  after  I 
had  made  a  big  name  in  Calcutta  that 
they  sent  me  to  England.  But  I  never 
did  much  good  here,  and  one  day  I 
was  sold  to  the  man  who  put  me 
between  the  shafts  of  a  hansom. 

Southall  had  been  in  stables  since 
he  was  a  little  boy,  and  knew  all  about 
us.  He  said  I  had  sloping  shoulders, 
was  short-coupled  in  the  back,  long 
underneath,  and  well  down  in  the 
hocks,  had  great  quarters,  a  thin,  bony 
head,  and  ears  like  silk.  I  didn't 
understand  it  all  then,  for  I  was  only  a 
colt,  and  had  spent  more  time  in  the 
paddock  than  in  the  stable  ;  but  I  knew 
he  was  praising  me,  and  when  he  put 
his  hand  under  my  chin,  and  leaned  his 
head  against  mine,  I  patted  his  cheek 
with  my  nose. 

He  laughed,  and  swore  he  would 
have  me  if  I  cost  him  a  thousand 
guineas.  He  stuck  his  thumb  under 
my  upper  lip,  and,  looking  at  my  teeth, 
said,  '* Bless  us!  he's  only  a  babe; 
but  he's  a  whoppin'  big  *un — nearly 
sixteen  hands." 


Well,  he  took  me  away  to  Calcutta. 
The  trip  on  the  boat  was  horrible — I 
don't  want  to  talk  about  it.  I  hope  no 
children  of  mine  ever  have  to  go 
through  that ;  but  they  won't,  for  they 
are  all  in  India  now. 

In  India  they  kept  me  till  I  was  four 
years  old,  before  I  was  started  in  a 
race.  Of  course  I  galloped  with  the 
other  horses  that  were  in  the  stable. 

Southall  used  to  do  all  sorts  of 
funny  things  with  me.  When  he  knew 
people  would  be  looking  at  these  stable 
gallops,  he  put  a  heavy  saddle  with 
two  stun  of  lead  in  it  on  my  back,  so 
that  I  could  not  beat  the  other  horses. 

The  people  said  I  was  no  good  ;  but 
Southall  would  laugh,  and  tickle  me 
in  the  ribs,  and  say,  "You're  no  good, 
my  big  buck;  you're  no  good,  d'ye 
hear?  But,  my  word,  you'll  win  the 
Viceroy's  Cup  in  a  walk." 

The  first  race  I  ran  was  down  at 
Hyderabad.  It  was  the  Nizam's  Cup; 
and  Southall,  and  my  owner,  and  little 
Abbot  banked  their  money  on  my 
chances  in  a  way  that  made  me  nervous. 
^How  they  knew  I  could  beat  Table 
Top  I  don't  understand — but  I  did. 

Such  an  uproar  there  was.  I  heard 
Southall  tell  the  jockey,  •*  Jim,"  to  get 
away  in  the  lead;  so  that  every  time 
the  other  horses  started  I  jumped  as 
quick  as  I  could.  After  we  had  gone 
a  half-mile  Jim  pulled  me  back  and  kept 
me  behind  Table  Top  until  near  the 
finish.  When  he  let  go  of  my  head  I 
shot  past  the  other  horse  as  though  he 
were  walking. 

They  threw  a  big  blanket  over  me 
when  they  took  the  light  saddle  off  my 
back  after  the  race.  Then  I  was  led 
down  to  the  stall  and  scraped  with  a 
steel  band,  and  rubbed  with  straw  un- 
til I  was  dry. 

My  word,    but   they  made  a  lot  of 
me.      The    ladies    patted    my    neck, 
18 


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DIPLOMATS  SACRIFICE 


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and  the  trainer  said  he  wished  I  could 
drink  a  bottle  of  champagne  with  him. 
That  was  the  way  with  those  boy»; 
when  they  won  they  drank  champagne 
and  played  poker  all  night,  and  bullied 
everybody  as  though  they  were  kings. 

It  was  five  weeks  between  the  Hy- 
derabad races  and  the  Viceroy's  Cup, 
and  I  heard  my  master  tell  the  trainer 
that  I  should  not  be  started  again  before 
that  race. 

Going  down  to  Calcutta  I  caught 
cold  in  the  train.  Southall  put  a  big 
felt  pad  on  my  chest  when  he  put  me 
in  the  box  car,  and  I  got  very  hot  and 
wet  from  the  perspiration.  As  I  was 
moving  a  little  the  pad  caught  in  a 
nail  and  was  pulled  to  one  side.  I 
could  not  put  it  back;  the  night  air 
struck  cold  on  my  wet  skin,  and  in  the 
morning  I  was  coughing. 

When  Southall  saw  me  he  cried. 
"My  poor  boy!"  he  said;  "  here's  the 
greatest  certainty  in  the  world  gone 
wrong. " 

My  owner  and  all  of  them  had  bet  a 
small  fortune  on  me  for  the  Viceroy's 
Cup,  and  they  were  more  solicitous 
about  my  health  than  if  I  had  been  the 
ODly  son  in  my  master's  family. 

My  master  had  a  daughter,  Miss 
Jess.  I  liked  her  better  than  anybody, 
better  even  that  Southall.  Before  I 
was  in  what  they  called  ' '  hard  train- 
ing "  she  used  to  bring  me  lumps  of 
sugar,  little  pieces  of  salt,  and  some- 
times a  carrot.  She  wasalways  scratch- 
ing my  ear,  or  rubbing  my  nose  with 
her  little  hand,  or  doing  something  to 
show  that  we  were  friends. 

**You  are  a  gentleman,  Diplomat," 
she  would  say,  and  would  pull  my 
mustache  or  pinch  my  arm. 

After  I  got  back  to  Calcutta  from 
Hyderabad  she  came  to  the  stable  one 
morning,  and  took  my  breath  away  by 
saying:  "My  poor  boy,  you're  sick; 
I'm  sorry.  It's  a  shame;  they  were 
careless — ^somebody  was.  But  I  don't 
feel  as  badly  as  I  ought  to  over  it,  Dip, 
for  I  want  another  horse  to  win  the 
Cup;  but  you  don't  know  anything 
about  that,"  she  added,  flicking  at  my 
nose  with  the  feathery  end  of  a  carrot 
top. 


Then  she  dragged  my  head  to  one 
side  and  laid  her  cheek  against  mine. 
I  felt  something  wet  trickle  down  my 
nose,  and  when  she  lifted  her  sweet 
face  I  saw  that  her  eyes  were  blurred. 
I  couldn't  understand  it  at  all ;  but  I 
had  horse  sense  enough  to  know  that 
she  was  sorry  for  me.  Besides,  I  had 
heard  Southall  say  that  nobody  could 
understand  a  woman's  way. 

My  cold  got  better ;  but  the  fever 
went  down  my  legs.  After  a  gallop 
on  the  hard,  dry  race-track  my  limbs 
would  swell  up,  and  I  would  go  quite 
lame.  The  putties  (bandages)  they 
put  on  me  did  some  good,  but  the 
tendons  would  swell  and  get  sore. 
Southall  was  in  despair.  He  played 
the  hose  on  my  shins  after  each  gallop, 
and  rubbed  at  them  until  he  nearly 
took  the  skin  off.  But  still  the  legs 
kept  weak. 

About  this  time  I  learned  why  Miss 
Jess  didn't  want  me  to  win  the  Vice- 
roy's Cup. 

One  morning,  after  a  gallop  on  the 
course,  I  was  waiting  for  the  string  to 
go  home  when  I  saw  a  horse  I  had 
known  in  Australia.  He  was  in  the 
stall  next  mine.  It  was  Sting.  We 
had  been  in  the  same  paddock  over 
there. 

**What  are  you  running  in?"  I 
asked  him.  "  I  didn't  know  you  were 
in  the  country." 

**  The  Trials  and  the  Viceroy's  Cup," 
he  responded. 

One  of  the  other  fellows  entered  in 
the  Viceroy's  Cup,  Robin  Hood,  was 
on  my  right,  and  when  Sting  said 
this,  Robin,  who  was  seventeen  hands 
high,  gave  a  snort,  and  exclaimed, 
**  What  !  a  little  sawed-off  runt  like 
you  expect  to  beat  all  the  long  legs 
over  a  mile-and-a-quarter  ?  My  word, 
but  you  have  got  a  fair-sized  gall." 

'•No,"  answered  Sting;  **  I  don't 
expect  to  win,  but  my  master.  Captain 
Thornton,  thinks  I  can." 

**  Well,  you  can't/ "  snapped  Robin. 
"Diplomat  here  will  give  you  a  stun 
over  that  distance. " 

"  Don't  mind  him,"  I  said,  speaking 
to  the  little  horse.  "Tell  me  what  is 
the  matter." 


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THE  CANADIAN  MA  GAZINE 


First  Water  had  been  travelling 
abovit  in  a  circle  in  front  of  the  stalls, 
led  by  a  syce.  The  latter  stopped  to 
talk  to  the  boy  who  was  putting  the 
putties  on  my  legs,  and  the  big  chest- 
nut heard  Robin  Hood  sneer  at  little 
Sting. 

**  You  big  lob,  you  !  why  doh*t  you 
leave  the  little  man  alone  ?  YouVe 
seventeen  hands  high,  and  your  thigh 
is  as  big  as  my  neck,  but  you  never 
won  a  race  in  your  life — not  since  you 
came  to  India,  anyway.  Everybody 
knows  what's  the  matter  with  you, 
too.  Yoli're  fast  enough,  but  when 
any  of  us  squeeze  you,  you  just  quit. 
You  funk  it,  and  my  trainer  says  he 
wouldn't  have  you  as  a  gift — your 
heart's  in  the  wrong  place,  he  says." 

This  made  Robin  furious,  for  he  was 
a  bad-tempered  brute,  and  he  lashed 
out  a  vicious  kick  at  First  Water. 

"What  did  Sting  do  in  the  Cau'field 
Cup,  at  home  in  Australia?"  continued  , 
First  Water.  '*  Didn't  we  all  pocket 
the  little  chap,  and  keep  him  there  for 
a  mile — and  then,  when  we  rounded 
the  corner  for  home,  he  got  through 
and  made  hacks  of  us,  winning  by  as 
far  as  he  pleased?  Don't  mind  that  big 
soft  mushroom.  Sting.  We're  glad  to 
see  you  out  from  Australia.  Did  Teddy 
Weeks  bring  you  over?  You'll  find 
the  ground  hard  and  dry  here,  and  the 
heat'll  crack  your  hoofs  and  burn  your 
liver.  My  hoof  is  split  so  that  I  have 
got  to  wear  a  big  all-round  shoe  on  it." 

Then  the  syce  led  First  Water  away, 
and  a  stable  boy  came  to  take  Robin 
Hood  for  a  spin. 

When  we  were  alone  Sting  com- 
menced to  talk. 

"You  were  only  a  youngster  when 
you  left  Australia,  Dip,"  he  said ; 
*•  how  have  you  gone  on?*  I  heard  my 
master,  the  captain,  telling  people  that 
you  were  favourite  for  the  Viceroy's 
Cup,  and  that  you  were  the  only  horse 
he  was  afraid  of.  And  look  here.  Dip, 
I'll  tell  you  a  secret,  for  you'll  not  give 
it  away,  will  you  ?  The  captain's 
awfully  fond  of  your  master's  daughter. 
Miss  Jess — I've  seen  them  together 
and  I've  heard  them  talk.  I've  heard 
a   lot   of  things  ;    they  think  I  don't 


understand,  and  the  syce  only  knows 
the  pagan  language  they  have  got  here, 
so  they  talk. 

"Last  night  the  captain  said  to  me: 
'You've  got  to  win  the  Cup,  old  man, 
for  if  you  don't  I'll  make  a  mess  of  it. 
Besides,  you'd  like  to  have  Jess  for  a 
mistress,  wouldn't  you?'  And  one 
morning  your  mistress,  Miss  Jess, 
came  to  me  on  the  course,  and,  rubbing 
her  soft  little  hand  down  my  neck,  said: 
'You  must  be  a  brave  little  horse,  and 
win  the  Cup  for  your  master.'  Dull 
spurs!  but  I  laughed  out  at  this — it 
was  too  funny.  For  my  master,  to  be 
sure ! — there  I  was  to  run  and  win,  not 
the  Cup  alone,  but  a  small  fortune  in 
bets,  so  that  the  captain  could  have 
your  mistress.  Dip.  Do  you  see  now 
what  is  bothering  me?" 

I  nodded  slowly  for  this  had  set  me 
thinking.  This  was  whf  Miss  Jess 
had  been  unable  to  fret  more  over  my 
illness. 

"Well,  you'll  just  have  to  win,"  I 
said  to  him.  "You  won  three  times 
in  Australia,  and  ought  to  be  good 
enough  to  beat  these  other  fellows  who 
should  be  running  as  qualified  hunters. 
I'm  sure  I  hope  you  do,  for  if  my 
mistress  will  'be  happy  through  your 
winning  that  will  please  me." 

"Yes,  I  won  the  Cau'field,  Dip,  but 
the  getting  through  the  crowd  was  just 
a  little  too  much  for  me.  When  I 
gallop  more  than  a  mile  now  I  get  a 
pain  in  my  side." 

"That's  what  Robin  Hood  says,"  I 
ejaculated.  "He  says  he  gets  a  pain  in 
his  side;  but  we  all  laugh  at  him,  and 
think  it's  because  he's  soft  and  cuts  it." 

"  No,  Dip,  it's  not  that.  You'll  find 
his  heart  has  been  strained  once,  same 
as  mine — has  had  to  do  too  much.  By 
Saint  Gladiateur!  when  you're  gallop- 
ing there — the  other  fellows  knocking 
you  about,  shoving  you  against  the 
rail,  and  carrying  you  wide  on  the 
outside  of  the  turns,  or  closing  in  on 
you  in  a  pocket,  and  the  dust  is  that 
thick  you're  breathing  mud  instead  of 
pure  air,  so  that  the  pipes  leading  to 
your  lungs  are  all  choked  up,  and  a 
boy  on  your  back,  who  doesn't  know 
anything  but  to  try  and  get  in  front, 


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Sticks  the  sharp  steel  into  your  flank, 
or  hits  you  with  a  rawhide  whip,  what's 
a  fellow  to  do?  It's  awful!  but  if  a 
fellow's  got  any  blood  in  him,  any  of 
the  king's  blood,  he's  got  to  make 
another  try — ^just  a  wee  bit  more. 
That's  what  I  did  at  Cau'field,  and  I 
got  through,  but  something  snapped. 
Everybody  was  saying  that  I'd  won 
easy  ;  but  I  didn't.  1  had  an  awful 
pain,  but  I  just  managed  to  stay  in 
front,  for  the  others  were  dead  beat, 
too.  That's  why  I  get  a  pain  when  I 
gallop  more  than  a  mile.  That's  why 
my  owner  in  Australia  sold  me.  He 
said  Td  turned  lazy ;  but  he  didn't  tell 
Captain  Thornton.  And  now  my 
master  and  your  mistress  are  risking 
all  their  happiness  on  my  winning  the 
Cup." 

I  shuddered  at  this^  for  it  was  all 
new  to  me.  The  only  race  I  had 
started  in  was  the  Nizam's  Cup,  and 
my  jockey  had  used  neither  whip  nor 
spur  ;  had  just  kept  me  back  a  little 
with  the  bit,  for  I  wanted  to  show 
them  all  how  fast  I  could  run ;  I 
liked  it. 

'*  I  wish  I  could  tell  my  master," 
sighed  Sting.  <<  He  thinks  I'm  all 
right.  A  vet  looked  at  me  when  I 
landed,  and  said  1  was  sound  as  a  bell. 
These  men  are  suchfools — sometimes." 
Just  then  Sting's  trainer  came  and 
ordered  the  syce  to  bring  him  out  ; 
the  jockey,  Archie,  got  upon  his  back, 
and  they  went  on  the  course  for  a 
gallop. 

** Who's  that  fellow?"  said  a  big 
bay  horse,  Table  Top,  as  we  stood  for 
a  few  minutes  close  together  in  the 
paddock. 
"  That's  little  Sting,"  I  replied. 
**  Oh,  I  know,"  he  answered  ;  **Son 
of  Grandmaster.  Grandmaster  was 
always  blowing  about  his  father, 
Gladiateur,  who  won  the  English 
Derby.  He  was  a  Frenchman,  was 
Gladiateur,  and  that's  why  they  boasted 
so  much.  We'll  see  what  the  breed 
can  do  out  in  this  blazing  hot  climate." 
It  seemed  to  me  they  all  had  a  pick 
on  Sting  because  he  was  small,  and 
my  heart  warmed  towards  the  little 
fellow.     As  the  days  wore  on  I  began 


to  have  doubts  about  being  able  to 
win  myself.  My  legs  got  so  bad  that 
I  had  to  give  up  galloping  on  the  hard 
course.  They  gave  me  frightful  long 
walks,  and  swam  me  for  hours  in  a 
big  pond  to  keep  my  muscles  hard. 
This  eased  my  legs,  but  it  took  away 
my  appetite,  and  I  always  left  part  of 
the  oats  in  the  feed- box. 

This  made  the  trainer  pull  a  long 
face  ;  but  he  was  so  kind.  He  gave 
me  raw  eggs,  and  sorted  the  hay  all 
over,  picking  out  the  best  for  me. 
He  was  a  dear  chap. 

My  owner  was  a  pompous  man,  and 
when  he  came  to  the  stables  everybody 
jumped  about  as  though  they  were 
going  to  lose  their  heads. 

One  day  Southall  said  to  him,  <'The 
horse  is  losing  flesh,  sir  ;  he  won't  eat, 
and  I'm  afraid  he'll  break  down  before 
the  race." 

My  master  flew  into  a  rage,  and 
cursed  everybody.  He  swore  that 
somebody  must  have  drugged  me. 
Miss  Jess  was  with  him,  and  she  broke 
in  with,  ''Why,  papa,  nobody  would 
do  that ;  besides,  Dip  knows  as  much 
as  a  man — he  wouldn't  eat  it.  Why 
don't  j^ou  do  with  him  as  the  doctors 
did  with  me  when  I.  was  run  down, 
give  him  stout  or  something  to  drink." 

Everybody  laughed  at  this,  even  the 
father,  who  was  so  angry  ;  but  the 
trainer  said,  **  My  word,  sir,  that's  a 
good  idea  ;  let  me  try  it." 

They  had  to  do  something,  so  the 
master  consented,  for  he  knew  that 
trainers  often  gave  whisky  to  horses 
who  were  a  bit  soft,  when  they  were 
going  to  run  a  hard  race.  After  that 
I  had  three  quart  bottles  of  beer  twice 
a  day.  It  was  a  funny  way  to  train  a 
horse,  the  knowing  ones  said — swim 
hin:i,  and  feed  him  on  beer  ;  but  I  felt 
better. 

We  were  a  sorry  lot,  the  whole  of 
us.  Sting  had  a  weak  heart ;  so  had 
Robin  Hood,  as  I  could  see  now  ;  First 
Water  had  a  split  hoof,  liable  to  go  at 
any  minute  ;  Table  Top  was  so  big 
and  lazy  they  couldn't  get  him  down 
to  condition  ;  Jack-in-the-Green  had  a 
splint ;  and  I  fancy  all  of  the  others 
had  something  the  matter. 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


I  kept  thiDking  it  over,  and  one  day 
when  I  was  out  for  a  walk  I  met  Sting 
coming  home  from  the  course.  **Look 
here,  little  man,"  I  said,  <'  I'd  like  to 
see  you  win  that  Cup  on  account  of 
my  mistress." 

**  I  can't  beat  you,"  answered  the 
chestnut;  ** you're  young,  and  fast, 
and  sound." 

**  I'm  not  sound,"  I  added  ;  **  but  I 
think  I  can  beat  all  the  others.  Do 
you  think  you  are  fast  enough  to  do 
them  up  ?  "  I  asked  him. 

**Yes,"  he  answered,  simply;  *•  if 
this  pain  doesn't  choke  me  off  I  can 
beat  them  all,  because  I  did  it  in 
Australia." 

Then  I  did  an  awful  thing,  gentle- 
men ;  I  turned  traitor  to  my  master. 
Even  as  I  write  it,  it  seems  there  is  no 
excuse.  But  now  I  am  only  a  cab 
horse  in  London  and  have  no  reputa- 
tion to  keep  up,  so  it  doesq't  matter. 

To  Sting  I  said  :  *<  In  the  race,  dash 
to  the  front  with  me  just  as  we  turn 
into  the  straight.  I'll  keep  a  place 
ready  for  you  next  the  rail  on  the  in- 
side. As  we  turn  the  corner  I'll  bore 
out  wide  and  close  the  others  off.  You 
rush  up  in  my  place  and  win.  If  you 
catCt  win,  I  mil;  for  I  have  speed 
enough  to  gallop  over  these  cart- 
horses. I'll  teach  those  big  lubbers 
not  to  despise  a  horse  just  because  he's 
small." 

**That  won't  be  right,"  suggested 
Sting  ;  but  I  could  see  him  prick  his 
small,  silken  ears  eagerly,  and  his  big 
eyes  glistened  with  delight.  I  gulped 
down  something  at  this,  for  I  had 
never  done  anything  mean  before,  and 
answered  : 

**  I  know  it's  not  right,  but  my  mis- 
tress will  be  happy  if  you  win." 

**  Well,"  said  Sting,  **  I  suppose  we 
have  a  right  to  arrange  races  among 
ourselves  sometimes  as  well  as  the 
men  have.  Only  the  other  day  I  heard 
a  conversation  between  some  of  your 
people  and  the  Nawab  of  Ballygunge. 
They  advised  him  to  buy  me  if  I  won 
the  Trial  Stakes.  This  race,  you  know, 
is  a  few  days  before  the  Viceroy's  Cup. 
Then  they  talked  among  themselves, 
and  I  know  that  if  they  buy  me  I  am 


to  be  run  so  as  to  allow  you  to  win, 
for  they've  got  a  pile  of  money  on  you. 
But  all  the  same  I  wouldn't  do  this  if 
it  wasn't  for  your  mistress  ;  for  man's 
code  of  morals  wouldn't  do  for  us 
horses— it's  not  good  enough." 

Thinking  over  what  I  was  going  to 
do  made  me  morose  ;  I  couldn't  bear 
to  rub  the  trainer's  cheek  with  my  nose 
any  more.  He  said  the  beer  was  giv- 
ing me  a  vicious  temper,  making  me 
sullen,  and,  that  as  soon  as  the  race 
was  over,  he'd  make  me  take  the 
pledge — he'd  shut  off  my  beer. 

I  knew  they'd  be  furious  with  me  if 
Sting  won — all  but  Miss  Jess. 

Well,  Sting  won  the  Trials  quite 
handily,  and  the  Nawab  of  Ballygunge 
tried  to  buy  him,  but  his  owner  refused 
point  blank.  He  swore  he'd  stick  to 
the  little  horse  if  it  broke  him.  Sting 
told  me  about  this  conversation,  for 
he'd  heard  it ;  we  both  admired  the 
captain's  pluck,  and  it  made  us  a  little 
easier  in  our  minds  over  doing  him  a 
good  turn. 

The  only  man  I  felt  really  sorry  for 
was  the  trainer,  Southall.  If  I  could 
only  have  told  him  to  back  Sting.  I 
tried  every  way  I  could  think  of.  I 
pretended  to  be  very  lame,  and  refused 
to  take  even  the  beer,  thinking  that  he 
would  become  frightened  and  hedge  on 
Sting.  But  he  put  the  liquor  in  a 
strong  soda-water  bottle,  and,  opening 
my  mouth,  held  my  head  high  and 
poured  it  down  my  throat.  I  was 
forced  to  swallow  it ;  so  that  failed. 
He  got  mad  and  said,  ''  Damn  you  ! 
you  don't  want  to  win,  I  believe." 
Wasn't  it  odd  ? 

Then  came  the  day  of  the  Viceroy's 
Cup.  Well  I  remember  it  ;  it  was  the 
day  after  Christmas,  the  26th  Decem- 
ber. Early  in  the  morning  Miss  Jess 
came  to  see  me,  riding  on  a  black- 
legged  bay  Arab  horse. 

**  Well,  Dip,"  she  said,  flicking  a  fly 
off  my  rump  with  her  riding  whip, 
**  I  wish  I  could  bribe  you  to  let  Sting 
win.  Father  doesn't  need  all  the 
money  he's  going  to  land  ;  but  you're 
such  an  honest  old  chap  I'm  afraid  you 
wouldn't  lose  the  race  even  for  me." 

Then  she  slipped  into  my  mouth  a 


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little  square  of  white  sugar  she  had 
hidden  in  the  palm  of  her  glove.  I 
had  to  laugh  at  the  syce  ;  he  saw  the 
Missie  Baba  fumbling  for  the  piece  of 
sugar,  and  turned  his  head  discreetly 
away,  pretending  to  be  looking  for  my 
brush.  Everybody  let  Miss  Jess  have 
her  own  way  it  seemed. 

"That  is  a  bribe,"  I  said  to  myself, 
**to  lose  the  Viceroy's  Cup  for  a  lump 
of  sugar,"  and  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
take  all  the  whip  and  spur  Jockey  Jim 
could  give  me,  rather  than  show  a 
nose  in  front  of  the  captain's  horse  at 
the  finish. 

My  !  there  was  a  crowd  of  people  at 
the  races.  It  was  like  Melbourne  Cup 
day  on  a  small  scale.  I  had  a  host  of 
friends,  for  I  was  the  favourite.  The 
story  of  the  beer  and  the  swimming 
had  got  out,  however,  and  a  great 
many  had  backed  Sting  to  win,  especi- 
ally since  the  Trial  Stakes. 

As  we  walked  around  in  a  circle  in 
the  paddock  before  going  out  for  the 
race,  I  manoeuvred  to  get  close  behind 
Sting  to  speak  to  him. 

**  Don't  forget,"  I  said,  **  at  the  turn 
into  the  straight,  just  before  we  leave 
the  old  race  stand,  I'll  be  in  the  lead  on 
the  inside — come  through  next  the 
rails;  I'll  pull  out  and  carry  them  all 
wide." 

The  little  horse  switched  his  long 
bronze  tarl  caressingly  across  my  neck, 
and  looked  gratefully  at  me  over  his 
shoulder. 

"  How  did  you  feel  after  the  trials?" 
I  asked. 

**  I  had  a  pain  in  my  side,"  he  an- 
swered, laconically;  *'  but  I  don't  feel 
it  now." 

Plucky  little  chap,  I  thought.  They 
say  his  grandfather,  Gladiateur,  was 
just  like  that,  brave  as  a  lion. 

Then  a  cornet  sounded  the  signal  for 
the  jockeys  to  mount.  Archie  swung 
up  on  to  Sting's  broad  back,  and  Jim 
pressed  his  long,  slim  legs  down  my 
sides.  How  Jim  would  hate  to  miss 
riding  the  winner  of  the  Viceroy's  Cup. 
I  felt  sorry  for  him. 

Captain  Thornton  led  his  bonnie 
horse  out  through  the  crowd  and  on  to 
the  course. 


As  I  passed  the  end  of  the  seats  in 
the  stand  I  saw  Miss  Jess.  She  didn't 
see  me;  her  eyes  were  following  my 
chum.  Sting,  and  perhaps  the  man 
who  was  leading  him.  They  had 
taken  our  wraps  off,  of  course,  and  I 
could  see  that  Sting  outclassed  us  all 
in  point  of  thoroughbred  beauty.  I 
wasn't  jealous,  for  I  knew  that  he  was 
as  plucky  as  he  was  good  to  look  upon. 

It  was  a  mile  and  a  quarter  to  go,  so 
none  of  us  bothered  much  at  the  start 
— we  knew  we'd  have  enough  of  it 
before  we  got  to  the  finishing  post.  I 
knew  the  starter  wouldn't  send  us  off 
until  I,  the  favourite,  was  in  a  good 
place;  so  as  soon  as  I  saw  Sting  had 
ths  best  of  the  start,  I  broke  away. 
The  flags  fell,  both  of  them,  and  we 
rushed  along. 

When  we  were  standing,  there  didn't 
seem  to  be  much  wind,  but  as  we  tore 
through  it,  it  roared  in  our  ears  and 
snapped  and  crackled  at  the  jockeys' 
colours,  like  the  sound  of  the  lashing  of 
whips.  Archie  was  sitting  quietly  on 
the  little  chestnut,  and  Jim  had  taken 
a  gentle  pull  at  my  teeth  with  the  bit. 
On  the  back  of  the  course,  after  we'd 
gone  half-a-mile,  two  of  our  mates 
commenced  to  creep  up  on  the  outside. 
I  could  see  that  Sting  had  his  eye  on 
them,  and  so  had  Archie.  Neither  of 
us  paid  any  attention  to  them.  We 
could  pass  that  pair  whenever  we 
wished. 

Rounding  the  turn  toward  the  old 
stand,  half-a-mile  from  the  finish, 
Robin  Hood  showed  his  nose  close  to 
my  shoulder.  I  galloped  a  little  faster, 
up  on  the  inside  of  Sting.  I  knew  if 
Robin  Hood  got  in  front  his  big, 
clumsy  bulk  might  bar  the  road  for  the 
little  horse's  rush  home. 

Gradually  as  we  came  opposite  the 
old  stand,  i  worked  my  way  on  the 
inside  past  Sting. 

''Keep  close  behind,"  I  gasped,  as 
we  raced  nose  and  nose  oast  the  old 
stand. 

Neither  of  our  riders  had  moved  in 
the  saddle  yet.  They  were  good  gen- 
erals, both  of  them;  they  knew  that 
so  far  we  two  were  playing  the  game 
for  keeps. 


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Gradually  I  drew  away  from  the  little 
horse.  1  heard  his  rider,  Archie, 
speak  to  him  coaxin^ly  once,  but  the 
little  fellow  did  not  respond  ;  he  had 
faith  in  me. 

Just  at  the  corner  of  the  straight  there 
was  a  mad  scramble  for  places.  Robin 
Hood's  big  thundering  hoofs  were 
pounding  the  course  to  dust  at  my 
side.  I  could  feel  Sting's  hot  breath 
on  my  quarters,  and  knew  that  his 
nose  was  pushing  close  up  for  the 
place  I  had  promised  him. 

Table  Top,  Robin  Hood,  and  First 
Water  came  with  a  rush  on  the  out- 
side; whips  cracking,  colours  snapping 
in  the  wind,  and  a  hurricane  of  sand 
being  thrown  up  by  the  eager,  crunch- 
ing hoofs.  That  was  where  the  race 
was  to  be  settled  they  knew  ;  if  they 
could  not  swing  into  the  stretch  well 
in  line  with  me,  they  were  done  for. 

Suddenly  I  swerved  to  the  left. 
With  an  oath  Jim  put  all  his  strength 
on  my  right  rein.  Further  out  I 
bored,  until  I  bumped  up  against 
Robin  Hood.  The  scramble  was 
fiendish. 

Then  the  golden  nozzle  of  my  little 
friend  showed  on  my  right.  I  could 
hear  Archie  chirruping  eagerly  to  the 
gallant  horse.  Next  he  was  clear  of 
them,  and  galloping  a  length  in  front 
of  me,  still  on  the  inside  close  to  the 
rails.  Jim  jabbed  his  sharp  spurs  into 
my  flanks  as  I  straightened  out  for 
home,  but  I  paid  no  attention  to  that — 
I  did  not  blame  him. 

Up  the  straight  we  raced  like  that — 
Sting's  powerful  hoofs  driving  the  hot 
earth  into  our  faces. 

As  we  neared  the  stand  I  could  hear 
the  roar  of  voices ;  it  was  like  the 
sound  of  the  waves  beating  against  the 
ship    I  crossed  the  ocean  in.     I  kept 


my  head  just  in  front  of  Robin  Hood  ; 
I  could  hear  his  rider  cracking  at  the 
big  horse's  great  sides  with  the 
whip. 

Nose  and  nose,  Robin  Hood  and  I 
raced  ;  slowly  we  were  drawing  up  on 
Sting  ;  inch  by  inch  we  gained  on  him. 
I  thought  of  swerving  again  on  Robin 
Hood,  but  Table  Top  was  on  my  right 
now — his  head  lapped  on  my  shoulder; 
I  had  to  take  care  of  them  both.  It 
was  terrible. 

Sting  was  gradually  coming  back  to 
us.  Would  it  all  be  thrown  away  ? 
He  had  not  far  to  go  ;  surely  he 
would  last  out  long  enough  to  win. 

I  saw  him  falter — Archie's  whip  went 
in  the  air;  the  gallant  little  horse 
swerved,  pitched  forward,  and  sud- 
denly disappeared  as  we  drove  by  him 
in  our  mad  rush.  The  hot  blood 
mounted  to  my  brain — it  was  all  Robin 
Hood's  fault.  He  should  not  win, 
anyway. 

The  bit  was  loose  in  my  mouth  ; 
there  was  no  restraining  pull.  I  shot 
forward  as  I  had  in  the  finish  for  the 
Nizam's  Cup,  a  length  ahead  of  Robin 
Hood. 

When  I  pulled  up  and  walked  back, 
I  saw  a  big  crowd  on  the  course. 
They  were  standing  about  Sting.  I 
looked  at  the  seat  where  Miss  Jess  had 
sat  when  I  went  out.  Her  face  was 
buried  in  her  handkerchief,  and  I  wish- 
ed that  I  had  dropped  instead  of  my 
gallant  chum. 

It  was  all  thrown  away,  for  Sting 
was  dead — a  dozen  lengths  from  the 
finish.  The  vet  said  he  had  broken 
his  heart.  Game  to  the  last — the 
Gladiateur  blood. 

I  couldn't  count  at  that  time,  but 
there  was  more  than  one  heart  broken 
— three  I  think. 


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BY  CANOE 


By    WALTER    S.   JOHNSON 


|HERE  have  been,  and  there 
are  still,  thank  heaven,  cer- 
tain unsophisticated  folk 
whom  we  call  conservative. 
They  are  persons  often  of  an  . 
old  school,  or  trained  amid  conditions 
less  complex  than  those  which  now 
obtain.  Upstart  schemes  they  ab- 
hor— that  make  of  beauty,  leisure, 
nerves,  a  continued  sacrifice  to  time 
and  speed.  Old  ways  and  things,  old 
times  and  books  and  friends  they  love, 
because  these  appeal  rather  to  the 
heart  than  to  the  head;  they  are  a 
habit  of  life  not  easily  put  off,  not  a 
wearisome  approximation  to  prog- 
ress and  fashion.  They  move  slow- 
ly, read  slowly  —  live  slowly,  in  a 
confident  endeavour  to  glean,  as  they 
live,  carefully  and  thoroughly,  all  those 
quiet  pleasures  which,  hidden  along 
the  by-paths  of  life,  are  revealed  only 
to  them.  The  treasures  of  the  great 
world  road  had  long  ago  been  lost  in 
garish  undistinctive  light,  and  its 
travellers  too  often  confuse  its  pleas- 
ures and  its  pains. 

Hazlitt,  with  his  staff,  and  Ruskin, 
with  his  coach,  are  truly  conservative. 
For  there  are  three,  and  only  three, 
ways  of  travelling,  by  coach,  by  foot, 
by  canoe.  Coaching  and  walking  are 
peculiar  to  the  more  thickly  populated 
countries,  for  both  depend  on  good 
roads  and  on  decent  and  frequent  hos- 
tels. But  in  a  new  land  where  towns 
and  villages  are  far  apart,  roads  poor, 
and  the  cosy  continental  inn  unknown, 
we  are  thrown  back  upon  a  less  con- 
ventional, still  more  delightful  means 
of  locomotion.  The  holiday  spent  in 
the  canoe  is  the  ideal  holiday.  Drawing 
us  away  from  our  constant  surround- 
ings and  from  civilization  to  forests  un- 
measured and  unblazed,  and  streams 
untraversed,  it  involves  a  primitive  kind 
of  life,  and  therefore  very  simple.  Sur- 
passing even  the  letter  of  the  law,  the 
canoeist  can,  whensoever  the  spirit 
movts  him,  take  up  at  once  his  convey- 


ance, shelter,  bed  and  carry-all, — and 
walk. 

To  hie  away  from  the  roar  of  the 
great  city  and  the  inexorable  pressure 
of  its  life,  ending  the  journey  beside 
some  peaceful  lake  cradled  among 
primeval  hills  and  forests,  is  a  pleasure 
indeed.  One  cannot  but  feel  a  thrill 
of  freedom  and  exultation  in  coming 
thus  into  touch  with  nature  in  her  ' 
wild  simplicity.  It  is  an  opportunity 
for  idealists  to  get  back,  if  only  for  a 
short  time,  to  simple,  immemorial 
means  of  life,  to  experience  its  actuali-. 
ties,  its  positive  needs.  To  early 
realize  these  needs  means  happiness, 
on  the  personal  side  at  least.  Nature 
does  her  part  lavishly.  These  autumn 
days  are  hers — days  flushed  with 
beauty,  grace  and  splendour,  filling 
the  mind  with  images  of  loveliness 
which,  remembered  with  ''  a  recol- 
lected love,"  may  be  treasured  through 
the  coming  years.  Hills  with  their 
masses  of  colour  flung  together  re- 
gardless of  laws  of  art,  banks  of  green 
picked  out  with  intertwining  wreaths 
of  reddest  vine  leaves,  gradations  of 
maples  with  golden,  brown  and  etio- 
lated leaves,  sumachs  glowing  with  a 
deep  rich  wine-coloured  red,  pines  dark 
and  sombre,  birches  wan  and  leafless 
— the  whole  overspread  by  a  pale 
blue  sky  flecked  with  clouds  which 
cause  wave  after  wave  of  succeeding 
light  and  shade,  and  bathed  in  the 
glow  of  an  afternoon  sun — these  are 
nature's  appeal  to  you  to  be  joyous. 
This  health-giving  pleasure  of  closer 
contact  with  nature,  which  is  so  abid- 
ingly ours,  opens  to  the  student  of 
books  and  life  a  world  of  fresh  thought 
and  experienii^. 

Stealing  along  dusky  banks  under 
old-time  elms  and  maples  which  have 
nodded  over  many  a  war-party  of 
Braves,  over  coureurs  de  bois^  zealous 
Jesuit  eager  to  save  souls,  or  French- 
man aspiring  to  the  conquest  of  a  con- 
tinent, we  may  be  not  of  this  present 

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time  or  circumstance,  but  voyageurs  of 
an  age  and  time  more  remote,  of  an 
age  of  boundless  aspiration,  faith  and 
enterprise.  We  may  be  the  trapper 
tracked  by  malignant  foe,  or  relentless 
Brave  hunting  down  the  enemies  of 
his  race.  We  may  live  in  imagination 
and  in  fact  a  life  which,  save  to  the 
devotee  of  canoe  and  wild,  has  faded 
forever  into  the  past. 

The  impressions  of  a  childhood 
spent  in  the  country  become  bedimmed 
after  long  years  of  city  life.  ''Shades 
of  the  prison-house"  have  closed  about 
us.  But  the  distinctive  calls  and  flight 
of  birds  are  eagerly  heard  or  recog- 
nized anew,  never  now  to  be  forgotten, 
for  they  are  indelible  by  reason  of  an 
awakened  and  maturer  interest.  The 
infinite  voices  of  solitude,  the  sifted 
silence  of  vast  forests,  have  a  new  and 
graver  import,  carry  a  weightier  mes- 
sage to  the  heart.  Our  knowledge  of 
life  is  deeper  now  than  then.  We  are 
not  in  a  passive,  receptive  state  merely; 
but  learning,  comparing  past  and 
present  experience,  filling  in  the 
lacunae  left  by  a  one-sided  life.  To 
hear  for  the  first  time  in  years  the 
whip-poor-will,  some  still  night,  thrash 
out  its  plaintive  lonely  call  across  some 
little  cove,  is  like  the  striking  on  the 
ear  of  some  rich  voice  from  the  past, 
flooding  the  mind  with  memories  long 
since  thick-blurred,  but  startled  now 
into  intense  life  as  the  bow  awakes  the 
strings — the  memory  of  youthful  pleas- 
ures and  expeditions,  older  loves  and 
losses,  of  hopes  long  since  realized, 
forgotten,  shattered.  It  is  a  voice 
from  out  the  silence,  from  out  the 
darkness  renewing  the  past.  Just  as 
dream  life  is  often  more  interesting 
than  waking  life,  so  this  life  of  the 
woods,  far  removed  from  the  condi- 
tions of  ordinary  existence,  yet  pre- 
sents by  subtle,  often  very  illusory 
reflexes  of  thought,  a  more  interesting 
side  of  the  life  we  have  left  behind. 
This  rustic  life,  scarce  refined  into 
simplicity,  ever  invites  a  new  point  of 
view:  many  an  essay  on  social  reform 
is  conceived  in  the  woods. 

What  pleasure  can  equal  that  of 
paddling    along    streams    and     lakes 


amid  forests  unknown  to  canoe  or 
hunter,  or  woodsman  ;  of  disturbing  a 
repose  so  ancient,  so  stupendous! 
The  giant  awakes  from  his  mighty 
sleep:  by  countless  indications  he  ex- 
presses it.  His  thousand  sentinels 
tremble  and  quiver  and  lisp  with  their 
myriad  lips  the  message  of  your  prof- 
anation ;  his  attendant  beasts  draw 
back  deeper  into  his  shaggy  folds  ;  his 
birds  both  great  and  small — the  em- 
blem of  his  freedom  and  his  choir  by 
night  and  day — jar  with  discordant 
notes  of  surprise  and  mistrust.  The 
giant  never  more  may  sleep;  unending 
wakefulness  must  end  in  decrepitude 
at  last,  and  no  forest  voice  in  all  its 
purity  be  heard. 

And  those  long  days  of  paddling 
under  alternating  shade  of  passing 
cloud  or  friendly  slope,  or  fully  ex- 
posed to  wind  and  sun;  drawing 
slowly  up  to  points  whose  sen- 
tinel trees  beckon  to  you  for  miles, 
only  to  pass  you  on  to  the  next, 
far  descried  in  the  distance  ;  slipping 
over  shallows,  past  picturesque  groups 
of  cattle  massed  on  sloping  plaques  of 
green,  and  trees  ramparted  by  cloud 
on  blue  ;  rousing  great  cranes  which 
sail  deridingly  near  you  and  away 
across  the  intervening  wood  to  settle 
among  the  reeds  of  the  stream's  next 
bend  (often  enough  indicating  your 
general  direction) — days  of  joyous  ex- 
pansive life,  of  myriad  impressions  of 
fancy,  colour,  shape  ! 

Noon  brings  satiety  of  exertion  for 
the  time;  hunger,  importunate,  de- 
mands a  stop.  This  is  the  lazy  inter- 
val of  the  canoeing  day-^it  is  the 
seductive  Lotus-land  of  ease,  of  toil 
forgotten  because  much  has  been  ac- 
complished, and  time  or  end  presses 
not;  of  sweet  languor  so  soft  that  sleep 
would  deaden  it  into  forgetfulness,  but 
which  the  day-dream  heightens  into 
phantasy  of  whimsical,  toying,  far- 
faring  thought.  Will  those  summer 
flies,  with  forward-steady  droning 
flight,  never  move  on  ?  Poised  there, 
wings  humming  into  haze,  moving 
neither  forward  nor  backward — are 
they  lost  souls  straining  .  ever  thus 
on    some   bootless  quest  ?     Alas,  no  ! 


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DAFFODILS 


127 


One    moves,    the    spell    is     broken. 
The  tired,  heated  wing's  cease  throb- 
bing ;    down,    down    it   dropSj   hope- 
less, lost — still  down  and  down — till 
with  a  hissing  switch  of  a  foot  and  a 
wiog  in  your  nostril  it  soars  again  to 
the  Empyrean.      Lying  here,   on  this 
aeck  of  land,  gazing  down  the  lake 
into  the  distance  we  have  come,  and 
forward  into  the  unaccomplished  dis- 
tance— if  it  could  be  always  noon,  and 
the  sun  always  shine,  bees  hum,  birds 
thrill,  fish  jump;  with  canoe  glistening 
in  the  sun  and  imaged   in   the  water 
— sign  of  isolation  and  a  link  with  past 
and  future — an  age  would  scarce  suf- 
fice for   our  resting   here — why  ever 
depart  ? 

But  rich  as  is  noon  in  dreamy  rest, 
evening  and  night  have  a  rarer  sug- 
gestive power  of  gorgeous,  or  it  may 
be  sombre  colour,  of  dumb  intensity  of 
mood.  Cooled  and  refreshed  by  an 
evening  breeze  we  paddle  on  and  on, 
through  water  glowing  like  heaped-up 
diverse  gems,  into  the  ardent  west. 
The  hither  side  of  hills  take  on  a  sable 
tinge,  their  crown  of  daffodil  succeeds 
to  sky  of  sapphire,   star-pierced,  the 


waters  deepen  to  inky  black  and  the 
hills  to  lapis-lazuli :  and  night  holds 
universal  sway.  It  is  as  though  the 
great  Master-dramatist,  whose  puppets 
we  are,  were  using  us  as  dummy 
pieces  in  this  scene  of  his  composition. 
For  it  reminds  us  strangely  of  some 
play-scene  of  marvellous  creation  and 
league-wide  range:  Dim  knolls  and 
tree-clumps  stand  like  towers,  square- 
buttressed,  deserted,  shadowy  with 
age  and  lichen  and  decay.  It  is  the 
enchantress  Night  at  work,  as  she  has 
been  since  ever  the  world  began,  en- 
riching the  imagination  with  intima- 
tions of  an  alien  time  chaotic  or  pacific, 
or  presenting  to  man  ^'gigantesques  " 
of  his  handiwork. 

All  nature's  children  of  the  day  are 
asleep.  We  lie  down  to  rest,  the  air 
heavy  with  the  fresh  odour  of  pines 
and  rustling  with  undefined  night 
voices  whose  undertone  is  the  rhythmic 
beat  of  waves.  The  senses  grow  more 
acute,  the  ear  is  flooded  with  pulsa- 
tions unperceived  before ;  with  at  last 
a  sense  of  perfect  peace,  the  overflow, 
and  of  an  encompassing  harmony,  and 
— we  are  in  oblivion. 


DAFFODILS 


BY    HERBERT    L.    BREWSTER 


lUHAT  matter  that  the  evening  air  is  crispy  yet,  and  chill, 
^^     What  matter  that  the  rim  of  snow  still  lies  athwart  the  hill. 
There  are  cadences  of  promise  in  the  free-song  of  the  rill; 
And  the  daffodils  are  blooming  in  the  lane. 

The  germs  of  balm  and  blessing  that  were  sleeping  'neath  the  snow 
Are  coming  forth  in  triumph  where  the  swift  March  breezes  go, 
And  hearts  that  love  the  sunny  skies  are  bounding  now  to  know 
That  the  daffodils  are  blooming  in  the  lane. 

We  think  of  hazy  hill-tops  in  a  a  maze  of  summer  light. 
And  dream  of  violets  by  the  stream,  and  pearly  dews  of  night; 
Since  Spring's  caress  has  broken  down  the  thrall  of  Winter's  might. 
And  the  daffodils  are  blooming  in  the  lane. 

0^!  the  Northern  ways  are  weary,  and  the  Northern  nights  are  long. 
When  the  world  is  wrapped  in  whiteness,  and  the  woods  have  lost  their  song  ; 
*^ut  the  heart-beats  of  a  fairer  time  are  pulsing  full  and  strong 
When  the  daffodils  are  blooming  in  the  lane. 


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rieciNQA      2     J  T 


£^i»J.AAiADM^    'Ar  iV 


MAP  OF  THE  DISTRICT  BURNED — ESPLANADE    ST.    IS    PRACTICALLY    THE  WATERFRONT — YORK, 

BAY  AND  YONGE  STS.  RUN  NORTH.      THE  WHITE  SPOT  IN  CENTRE  BLACK  BLOCK 

ABOVE  WELLINGTON  ST.  SHOWS  WHERE  THE  FIRE  STARTED 


TORONTO'S  GREAT  FIRE 

By  NORMAN  PATTERSON 


ORONTO  has  had  several 
large  fires  during  the  sev- 
enty years  of  her  civic 
history,  but  the  conflagra- 
tion which  occurred  on  the 
night  of  April  19th  was  the  largest 
and  most  disastrous.  The  loss  will 
amount  to  about  fourteen  millions  of 
dollars,  of  which  eight  millions  must 
be  borne  by  forty  insurance  companies 
and  six  millions  by  the  three  hundred 
and  fifty  business  Arms  involved.  The 
total  premiums  collected  by  fire  insur- 
ance companies  doing  business  in 
Canada  last  year  was  about  eleven 
million  dollars,  so  that  this  fire  makes 


it  quite  clear  that  the  insurance  busi- 
ness of  1904  will  show  a  large  deficit. 
The  largest  annual  loss  total  ever  paid 
out  in  this  country  was  in  1877,  when  it 
amounted  to  eight  and  a  half  millions 
of  dollars.  The  loss  in  this  ToroBto 
fire  will  alone  exceed  the  losses  of  that 
record  Canadian  year.  It  is  only  by  a 
full  realization  of  the  force  of  such  a 
comparison,  that  one  may  get  a  correct 
and  reasonable  idea  of  the  magnitude 
of  this  great  disaster. 

By  recalling  previous  Canadian  fires, 
it  is  possible  to  further  emphasize  this 
view-point.  On  June  20th,  1877,  the 
great  fire  in  St.  John,  N.B.,  destroyed 


128 


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TORONTO'S  GREAT  FIRE 


129 


1612  dwelling  houses  and  615  business 
places,  and  made  the  Bre  losses  of 
that  year  exceptional.  The  next  great- 
est loss  was  in  1900,  the  year  of  the 
Ottawa-Hull  fire,  when  the  total  losses 
paid  the  companies  for  the  year  were 
^7»774>ooo.  The  insurance  losses  paid 
in  each  of  these  two  great  fires  will, 
added  together,  no  more  than  equal 
the  losses  to  be  paid  now  in  Toronto. 
The  St.  John  fire  began  at  half- past 
two  in  the  afternoon  in  a  boiler-shop 
in  the  suburb  of  Portland.  Close  by 
there  was  an  extensive  rookery  of  old 
wooden  buildings  and  soon  an  exten- 
sive conflagration  had  been  developed. 
A  violent  north-west  wind  was  blowing. 
The  fire  swept  down  upon  the  doomed 
city  and  in  a  few  hours  the  entire  busi- 
ness portion  had  been  reduced  to  a 
mass  of  ruins,  as  well  as  the  better 
class  of  dwelling-houses  to  the  south 
and  south-east.  Public  buildings, 
houses  of  business,  hotels,  printing 
offices,  churches  and  theatres  were 
involved  in  a  common  ruin  with  the 
residences  of  the  middle-class  and  the 
humbler  dwellings  of  the  workingman. 
Thirteen  thousand  people  were  home- 
less that  night  in  St.  John,  and 
$27,000,000  of  property  was  represent- 
ed by  a  vast  mass  of  ashes,  charred 
embers,  and  a  dreary  waste  of  ruins. 
The  Toronto  fire  cannot  be  compared 


A  UNITED  STATES  SILVER  DOLLAR  AND  A  CANA- 
DIAN QUARTER — THE  ONLY  OBJECT  WHICH 
CAME  OUT  OF  BUNTIN,  RBID  &  CO.'S  VAULT. 
BOOKS,  TIN  BOXES,  ETC.,  WERE  TOTALLY 
CONSUMED. 

with  that  calamity  for  monetary  loss 
or  individual  suffering. 

It  was  about  half-past  ten  in  the 
morning  of  April  26th,  1900,  that  a 
lamp  was  upset  in  a  humble  dwelling 
in  the  City  of  Hull,  and  the  great  fire 
started.  As  in  St.  John,  a  strong  gale 
was  blowing,  but  from  the  north-east. 
By  twelve  o'clock,  the  fire  had  swept 
over^  great  area  of  small  dwellings  in 
Hull  and  the  Eddy  factories  were 
threatened  on  that  side  of  the  river, 
while  the  lumber  yards  on  the  Ottawa 
side  were  in  danger.     When  it  was  all 


THE  FIRE  AS  IT  APPEARED  AT  ONE  O'CLOCK  IN  THE  MORNING— FROM  YORK  ST.  BRIDGE,  LOOKING 

EAST. — PHOTO  BY  D.  J.  HOWELL 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


SOME  OF  THE   EIGHTY   BUILDINGS   DESTROYED — FRONT  ST.,    NORTH   SIDE 


over,  there  was  a  blazed  path  across 
both  cities  five  miles  long  and  a  mile 
wide,  from  the  public  buildings  of  Hull 
across  the  industrial  portions  of  both 
cities,  and  through  a  fine  residential 
portion  of  the  city  of  Ottawa,  ending 
only  at  the  bluff  which  divides  the 
lower  town  from  the  upper  town.  Fif- 
teen thousand  people  were  homeless 
and  fifteen  million  dollars'  worth  of 
property  was  destroyed.  The  Toronto 
fire  cannot  compete  with  that  confla- 
gration for  individual  suffering,  al- 
though it  equals  it  in  monetary  loss. 

In  St.  John  not  one-fifth  of  the  loss 
was  covered  by  insurance;  in  Ottawa 
not  much  more  than  one- fourth;  in 
Toronto  fully  two- thirds  of  the  de- 
struction will  be  made  up  by  the  insur- 
ance companies.  In  St.  John,  thirteen 
thousand  people  and  in  Ottawa  fifteen 
thousand  were  homeless;  in  Toronto, 
no  homes  were  destroyed.  These  two 
notable  differences  explain  why  there 
has  been  no  necessity  for  public  sub- 
scription nor  outside  assistance  for  the 
fire-sufferers  in  Toronto.  The  losers 
were  business  men  who  are  well  able  to 
look  after  themselves,  to  rebuild  the 
solid   warehouses  and  large   factories 


which  were  destroyed.  Here  and  there 
is  a  firm  who  may  find  the  balance  be- 
tween assets  and  liabilities  swept  away 
in  the  loss,  and  its  members  will,  of 
necessity,  begin  their  business  lives 
over  again.  Here  and  there,  a  firm 
will  find  themselves  without  any  re- 
cords of  their  business,  for  many  vaults 
and  safes  proved  unequal  to  the  fierce 
heat,  and  they  will  be  so  hampered  by 
the  loss  that  they  cannot  find  heart  to 
start  in  once  more.  There  will  be  a  few 
individuals  whose  insurance  was  not 
what  it  should  have  been,  and  they  will 
be  forced  to  compromise  with  their 
creditors  and  seek  new  vocations.  The 
majority  of  the  sufferers  will  be  enabled 
to  meet  the  disaster  bravely,  and  to  re- 
establish themselves  on  the  old  or  on 
new  sites.  There  has  been  mental 
suffering,  sorrow,  and  anguish,  but  it 
is  not  the  kind  of  sorrow  that  lasts,  nor 
the  anguish  which  keeps  men  long  dis- 
mayed. 

The  district  burned  was  the  pride  of 
the  city,  and  some  of  the  buildings 
were  built  since  the  latest  wave  of 
prosperity  swept  over  the  country. 
The  beautiful  buildings  of  Brown  Broth- 
ers,   The    Copp,  Clark    Co.,   Dignum 


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BAY  STREET   BEFORE   THE   FIRE^THE   CITY   HALL   IN   THE   DISTANCE 


&  Monypenny,  TheGillett  Co.,  West- 
wood,  Currie,  and  others,  were  recent 
structures  of  the  modern  type.     None 


of  the  buildings  were  very  old.  Most 
of  them  were  brick,  many  of  them  with 
handsome  stone  facing.     The  corners 


BAY  STREET  AFTER  THE   FIRE. — PHOTO   BY   GOOCH 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


of  Bay  and  Wellington  and  of  Bay  and 
Front  Streets  were  the  centres  of  the 
wholesale  district,  and  more  wealth 
was  gathered  upon  the  few  blocks  de- 
stroyed than  on  any  other  blocks  in  the 
city  where  there  are  not  public  build- 
ings. The  total  number  of  buildings 
burned  was  about  eighty. 

The  burned  district  is  bounded   on 


CORNER  OF  BAY  AND  WELLINGTON  STS. — WATER  TOWER  AT  WORK 


the  south  by  the  Bay,  on  the  west  by 
Lome  Street,  on  the  east  by  Yonge 
Street  and  on  the  north  by  Melinda. 
All  the  buildings  in  that  district  did  not 
become  a  mass  of  crumbling  walls  and 
twisted  girders,  but  most  of  them  did. 
A  police  constable  had  just  received  the 
passbook  from  the  man  he  was  reliev- 
ing at  the  corner  of  Bay  and  Welling- 
ton Streets  at  eight  o'clock  when  he 
saw  flames    shooting  up  the  elevator 


shaft  of  the  Currie  building.  He  ran 
to  Front  Street  and  turned  in  an 
alarm.  A  citizen  who  had  seen  it 
about  the  same  time  ran  to  King 
Street  and  did  the  same.  The  police- 
man did  not  run  fast  enough,  and  he 
missed  fame  by  a  few  seconds.  The 
citizen  won.  Yet  it  was  a  sad  night 
for  both  policemen  and  citizens. 

The  fire  should 
have  been  confined 
to  the  Currie  build- 
ing, but  the  water 
pressure  was  low 
and  the  buildmg 
across  the  lane  had 
unprotected  win- 
dows. Besides,  the 
general  who  is  sup- 
posed to  direct  the 
Toronto  firemen  so 
far  forgot  himself 
as  to  do  some  scout- 
ing which  should 
have  been  done  by  a 
ranker;  the  result 
was  that  he  lost  his 
way  in  one  of  the 
buildings,  and  slid 
down  a  waterpi  pe  to 
safety  and  a  broken 
leg.  The  army  that 
fought  the  fire  that 
night,  fought  it 
without  its  gener- 
al, although  per- 
haps the  subordin- 
ates were  just  as 
good  men.  Find- 
ing itself  unimped- 
ed by  the  brigade, 
the  fire  leaped  into 
the  adjoining  build- 
ing  to  the  east 
and  then  into  the  next.  By  this  time 
it  looked  as  if  it  would  be  a  dang- 
erous fire.  Some  people  began  to 
prophesy  that  it  would  jump  across 
Wellington  Street  and  eat  up  some  of 
the  buildings  on  the  south  side.  It 
did  and  Brown  Bros.'  building  was 
soon  ablaze.  Other  buildings  around 
the  original  seat  of  fire  caught,  and  in 
a  short  time  the  conflagration  was  be- 
yond   control.     Fanned    by    a    fierce 


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TORONTO'S  GREAT  FIRE 


133 


■BROCK  S  KOLPH.   SMITH  &  CO.  BROWN   BROS. 

SOUTH   SIDE  OF  WELLINGTON   STREET,   WEST  OF   BAY 


north-west  wind, 
the  flames  raced 
south  and  east. 
They  jumped  from 
roof-top  to  roof- 
top. They  reached 
from  window  to 
window  across  66- 
foot  streets.  It 
went  up  Bay  a  bit 
and  down  Bay 
Street  a  consider- 
able distance  —  to 
the  railway  tracks 
in  fact.  Before  all 
the  buildings  on 
Wellington  Street 
and  Bay  had 
caught,  the  blaze 
was  eating  up  mag- 
nificent warehous- 
es on  both  sides  of 
Front  Street,  di- 
rectly south  of 
where  the  fire  start- 
ed. It  was  beyond 
control,  and  only 
dynamite  liberally 


THE  MINERVA  BUILDING  WHICH  BARRED  THE  PROGRESS  OF  THE  FIRE 
ON  THE  NORTH  SIDE  OF  FRONT  STREET,  NEAR  YONGE 

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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


THE  FIRE  SWEPT  UP  BAY  ST.  TO  SOME  LOW  BUILDINGS   NEXT  TO  THE  TORONTO  ENGRAVING  CO. 
THESE   LOW    BUILDINGS   ENABLED   THE   FIREMEN   TO   STOP   THE   NORTH- 
WARD  PROGRESS  AT   THIS   POINT 


used  could  have  stayed  its  advance 
southward.  The  Mayor  telephoned  to 
surrounding  cities,  even  to  Buffalo, 
and  soon  assistance  was  on  its  way. 
The  fire  had  been  raging  five  hours 
when  the  Hamilton  and  Buffalo  men 
arrived,  but  they  were  of  great  assist- 
ance for  the  home  brigade  were  tiring 
in  their  valorous  if  discouraging  work. 
In  the  meantime  the  retreat  of  the 
fire  northward  had  been  checked  at 
the  Telegram  and  Toronto  Engraving 
Co.  buildings  on  Bay  Street.  Its 
progress  westward  was  never  serious 
because  a  favourable  wind  and  open 
spaces  saved  the  buildings  on  Welling- 
ton Street  and  the  Queen's  Hotel  on 
Front  Street.  It  had  gone  south  as 
far  as  it  could  go — to  the  railway 
tracks  and  the  Bay.  The  battle-ground 
lay  to  the  east.  From  one  o'clock 
until  four  the  surging  crowds  of  spec- 
tators speculated  as  to  where  the  east- 
ward limit  would  be.  Would  it  be 
Yonge  Street  or  the  Market  ?  Good 
buildings,  water  curtains  and  brave 
firemen  checked  it  on  Wellington  Street 


before  it  had  got  half  way  from  Bay  to 
Yonge.  On  Front  Street  they  were  less 
successful.  On  the  north  side  it  swept 
along  from  building  to  building,  roof 
to  roof,  window  to  window,  cornice  to 
cornice,  sign  to  sign,  until  the  huge 
Minerva  Mfg.  Co.  building  was  reach- 
ed. On  the  south  side  it  licked  up  a 
score  of  closely-built  warehouses  until 
it  reached  the  little  strip  of  land  which 
enables  the  Customs  and  Examining 
Warehouse  to  stand  in  their  solitary 
grandeur.  Here  the  fight  was  made, 
and  the  Minerva  building  and  the  Cus- 
toms House  mark  the  last  trench  of  the 
great  battle.  Apparently  satisfied  with 
its  playful  frolic,  the  fire- fiend  sat  down 
upon  the  great  area  he  had  conquered 
and  silently,  sullenly,  yet  all  unyield- 
ingly, lulled  himself  to  sleep.  As  the 
early  morning  broke,  the  weary  fire- 
men and  the  threatened  merchants 
breathed  sighs  of  relief,  while  the  other 
citizens  discussed  and  mourned  the 
destruction  which  had  come  to  the 
Queen  City.  A  few  heart-broken,  dis- 
couraged men  went  home  to  talk  over 


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TORONTO'S  GREAT  FIRE 


'35 


DYNAMITING   THE   DANGEROUS  WALLS  AFTER  THE   FIRE-PHOTO  TAKEN   AT   INSTANT  OF 

THE   EXPLOSION 


their  losses,  only  to  return  in  a  few 
hours  with  renewed  courage  to  seek 
new  offices,  give  orders  for  new  ma- 
chinery and  to  plan  the  rebuilding 
which  will  not  be  completed  for,  at 
least,  two  years. 

The  conflagration  presents  the  same 
lessons  that  go  unheeded  by  the  pub- 
lic year  after  year — the  lessons  of 
faulty  construction  by  the  individual 
owner  who  builds  his  house  upon  the 
sand,  of  municipal  neglect,  of  post- 
poned precaution.  To  the  lack  of 
water  pressure  and  an  unorganized  fire 
brigade  may  be  assigned  the  spreadi  ng  of 
the  flames,  but  unprotected  openings 
opposing  each  other,  well-holes,  wood- 
en cornices,  skylights,  narrow  lanes, 
overhead  wires,  all  played  their  part 
in  aiding  the  destruction.  The  man- 
ner in  which  Brock's  and  Kilgour*s 
sprinklered  buildings  resisted  the  furi- 
ous heat  was  strong  evidence  of  the 
value  of  these  equipments;  two  build- 


ings in  such  a  seething  mass  were  of 
little  avail,  but  they  gave  a  breathing 
spell  for  the  flghters,  and  one  of  them 
stopped  the  progress  east  on  Welling- 
ton. The  mercantile  section  of  a 
great  city,  containing  its  millions  of 
money  value,  should  be  constructed 
of  flre-resisting  materials  only,  and 
each  building  should  be  equipped  with 
an  approved  automatic  extinguishing 
apparatus. 

Some  valuable  discussion  has  taken 
place  since  the  Are  concerning  the  flre- 
fighting  system  of  Toronto.  The  pres- 
sure of  the  water  in  the  mains  in  the 
burned  district  varies  from  60  to  90 
pounds  to  the  square  inch.  In  Buffalo, 
in  the  similar  district  it  is  150  pounds; 
this  is  maintained  by  a  special  main, 
running  up  Washington  Street,  the 
water  for  which  is  pumped  by  a  fire- 
tug  carrying  strong  pumping  engines. 
There  is  nothing  of  this  kind  in  To- 
ronto, or  in   any  other  Canadian  city. 


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THE   SCENE  ALONG   THE   ESPLANADE 


INCIDENTS  AT  A  GREAT  FIRE 

WITH     DRAWINGS     AND     SNAP-SHOTS     BY    THE    AUTHOR 

By    FERGUS    KYLE 


ERTAINLY  in  the  minds  of 
the  staring  thousands  who 
drifted  about  from  one 
view-point  to  another,  and 
feasted  their  eyes  upon  the 
sights  of  that  wild  night  in  Toronto, 
no  impression,  from  amongst  all  that 
vivid  spectacle,  will  remain  deeper 
than  that  ever-recurring  glimpse  of  an 
atom  of  a  man  walking  about  there  in 
the  midst  of  unquenchable  fury.  Watch- 
ing the  fire  from  the  side  was  like  stand- 
ing beside  a  river  in  flood,  so  straight 
and  swift  swept  the  current  of  flame. 
There  were  won- 
derful pictures  on 
every  side,  inspir- 
ing sights  unnum- 
bered; but  always, 
as  the  onlooker 
crowded  in  to  a 
new  loophole  of 
vision,  his  gaze 
found  the  same 
focus. 

From  a  distance, 
where  the  mass  of 
humanity  was  held 
in  check  across 
the  roadway,  one 
looked  away 
through  an  aven- 


OLD  CRONIES 


ue  of  brick  and  stone  fronts,  one 
side  brilliantly  lighted,  the  other  ob- 
scure in  a  dull  gray  ;  past  the  poles 
and  sign  boards  standing  out  in  black 
silhouette  or  glinting  from  their  golden 
lettering;  across  the  bare  wet  pave- 
ment where  the  hose  ran  in  serpentine 
curves  from  the  sputtering  hydrant 
near  by  ;  and  there,  a  block  away, 
under  the  furious  flash  that  swept  from 
a  hundred  yards  back  straight  over 
his  head,  was  the  man  in  the  rubber 
clothing  whom  the  people  along  the 
rope  pay  to  look  after  these  things  for 
them,  doing  his 
regular  work  in 
the  midst  of  a 
huge  furnace.  Not 
to  stand  on  the 
outside  with  a 
long^poker  and 
rake  the  coals  over 
so  as  to  dissipate 
their  strength;  his 
business  was  to 
don  a  broad  hel- 
met and  clumsy 
clothing,  and  to 
walk  with  heavy 
foot-gear  right  in 
amongthe  embers; 
to   choose  from 


136 


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INCIDENTS  AT  A  GREAT  FIRE 


137 


among  the  huge 
chunks  of  fuel  one 
small  piece  upon 
which  it  seemed  his 
work  would  be  not 
entirely  wasted,  and 
to  stay  there  with 
his  miniature  axes 
and  thread  of  hose 
until  the  glowing 
mass  crumbled  and 
settled  down  upon 
the  spot. 

The  people  on  the 
ropes  see  him  away 
off  there,  one  mo- 
ment shut  in  by 
heavy,  suffocating 
smoke;  the  next 
clear  cut  in  a  sud- 
den glare,  as  the 
keen  wind  sweeps 
round  a  corner, 
bearing  with  it 
pieces  of  burning 
wood,  lengths  of  tin 
roofing  from  the 
cornices  above,  and 
spray  that  makes 
the  helmet  shine 
like  polished  metal. 
They  hear  the  roar 
and  crackle  and  the 
curious  unexplain- 
able  sounds,  and 
feel  the  heat  even  at 
that  distance,  and 
some  of  them  won- 
der whether  the  fire- 
man thinks  of  his 
babies  at  home  as 
he  does  his  day's 
work  there  —  or  if 
he  tries  not  to  think 
of  them.  There  was 
widely  expressed 
thankfulness  that 
no  lives  had  been 
wasted  in  that  dis- 
heartening sweep  of 
fire. 

■ 

Half  way    down 
Bay   street,    below 


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Wellington,  when  the  fire  was  raging 
through  the  block  behind  them,  send- 
ing showers  of  sparks  and  ashes  down 
into  the  street,  stood  a  couple  of  old 
cronies  that  have  been  through  many 
a  like  experience — the  team  of  horses 
belonging  to  the  old  **  Boustead"  fire 
engine.  It  was  an  off  moment  for 
them;  and  until  their  driver  would 
come  running  to  get  them  to  move  the 
engine  from  under  some  dangerous 
wall,  or  to  hustle  it  around'into  a  more 
advantageous  position  in  front  of  the 
fire,  they  stood  there  alone  in  the 
smoky  half-light  without  the  slightest 
nervousness.  Nothing  of  the  fiery 
steed  about  them,  barring  their  occu- 
pation; just  two  heavy,  sensible  old 
customers  with  only  an  occasional 
intelligent  turn  of  the  head,  the 
distinguishing  look  of  the  fire  horse,  to 
tell  that  they  understood  or  cared  any- 
thing at  all  about  it.  Had  there  been  an 
animal-study  man  among  the  two  or 
three  individuals  who  picked  their  way 
past  there  among  the  puddles  and 
dangling  wires,  he  would  have  heard 
the  off-horse  mutter,  after  a  scrutiny 
of  the  surroundings  over  his  mate's 
shoulder,  **  Billy,  me  boy,  this  is  going 
to  be  an  all-night  job.  What  do  you 
say  if  we  take  a  nap  while  we  have  the 
chance  ?" 

■ 

There  were   other  equines  engaged 


in  tiresome  work  that  night ;  old  gen- 
eral-purpose day  labourers  that  could 
ill  afford  the  loss  of  a  night's  rest. 
Some  of  the  bank  clerks,  who  at  one 
stage  of  the  fire  w^ere  looking  for  a 
waggon  to  move  some  valuables,  tell  of 
a  couple  of  boys,  the  son  of  an  ex- 
pressman and  a  **pardner,"  who  had 
*'  swiped  out "  the  horse  unbeknownst 
to  the  **old  man,"  and  at  three-thirty 
in  the  morning  had  gathered  together 
the  sum  of  thirty-six  dollars,  most  of 
it  at  the  expense  of  the  four-footed 
bread-winner,  whom  they  urged  to  the 
limit  of  his  public-spirited  endurance. 
■ 

His  Majesty's  Royal  Mails  are  put 
to  such  curious  uses  at  times,  and  the 
loyal  servants  of  His  Majesty  and  the 
people,  the  letter-handlers,  are  so 
accustomed  tostraighteningout  tangles 
and  seeing  that  everything  posted  goes, 
that  it  was  not  astonishing,  perhaps, 
or  even  amusing,  to  find  the  postman 
whose  route  lay  in  the  burned  district 
conscientiously  peering  into  the  box  at 
the  corner  of  Bay  and  Front  streets  on 
the  second  morning  after  the  wreck, 
hoping  like  a  patriot  that  no  one  had 
been  absent-minded  beggar  enough 
(that  was  not  exactly  the  expression 
he  used)  to  put  anything  in  there. 
■ 

The  activities  of  the  picturesque 
telegraph  linemen  were  the  subject  of 
much  admiring  comment  on  the  two 
days  following  the  big  event.  While 
the  ruins  were  still  smoking  these  fel- 
lows were  heaving  the  newly-shaved 
poles  up  with  their  long  pikes,  drop- 
ping them  into  the  holes  from  which 
the  old  roots  of  ruined  timber  had  been 
expeditiously  extracted. 
■ 

There  was  an  urgent  call  for  experts 
to  open  the  safes  and  vaults,  and  the 
local  company,  as  well  as  those  from 
elsewhere,  had  men  at  work  as  soon  as 
the  temperature  of  the  bricks  would 
permit.  These  **safe-crackers,"  asthe 
irreverent  workmen  called  them,  were 
from  among  the  most  skilful  of  those 
engaged  in  lock-making,  and  where 
one  of  them  was  engaged  he  was  al- 


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THE    LINEMEN   AT   WORK 

ways  sure  of  an  audience.  **  Let  us 
know  when  you  get  to  the  stuff,  old 
man;  we'll  keep  an  eye  on  the  cops," 
and  other  pleasantries  were  fired  at  him. 
When  the  oven  was  opened,  and,  as 
in  most  cases,  the  batch  was  found  to 
be  not  overdone,  the  waiting  clerks 
busied  themselves  with  passing  out  the 
books  and  papers,  knocking  and  blow- 
ing the  dust  from  them,  at  the  same 
time  sadly  damaging  their  patent 
leathers  in  the  mess  underfoot,  and 
keeping  one  eye  open  for  additional 
contributions  to  the  scrap  heap  from 
the  crumbling  projections  overhead. 


With  the  fall  of  the  wall 
next  to  the  Customs  House 
buildings,  the  destroying 
passion  of  the  fire  was  with- 
stood. The  stone  walls  and 
their  austere  isolation  were 
an  invulnerable  combin- 
ation, and  in  the  doubtful 
places  of  proximity  the  or- 
dinary resources  of  the  pro- 
tective system  were  a  suffi- 
cient defence. 

Here  was  a  scene  that 
included  about  all  there  is  to 
be  seen  at  a  fire.  There 
was  the  all  -  pervading 
glare,  there  were  fierce 


tongues  of  flame,  clouds  of  smoke 
and  flying  embers,  the  roar  and 
crackle,  the  hum  of  the  engines, 
bustling  fire-fighters  splashing  about, 
in  and  out;  tottering  walls,  a  flight  for 
life,  and — the  saving  of  the  adjoining 
property.  Inside  that  big  warehouse 
the  fire  was  making  a  thorough 
job  of  it,  as  could  be  plainly  seen 
through  the  two  windows,  the  only 
light  spots  in  that  immense  expanse  of 
black  wall.  At  its  foot,  in  the  jog  of 
the  lane,  three  or  four  firemen  were 
directing  the  force  of  a  branch  against 
susceptible  portions  of  the  rear  wing 
of  the  Receiving  House,  whilst  every 
minute  or  so  a  figure  emerged  from  or 
disappeared  around  the  bend  of  that 
dark  tunnel,  on  business  for  the  men 
engaged  upon  the  roof  or  in  the  inter- 
ior of  the  building  upon  which  this 
hose  was  playing.  It  became  a  cer- 
tainty that  something  must  happen 
there  soon.  Everything  behind  the 
wall  must  have  been  eaten  out  long 
ago.  There  was  a  cry  as  a  large  part 
of  the  end  fell  down  into  the  passage, 
and  the  men  with  the  hose  stumbled 
back  a  pace  or  two  ;  but,  as  the  freed 
flames  reached  across  again,  they  turn- 
ed their  stream  upward  once  more  and 
stayed  there.  The  people  watched; 
they  wondered  if  a  wall  fell  inward  or 
outward.  Then  the  policeman  who 
had  undertaken  to  guard  those  fellows* 
lives    uttered    his    strong    cry.     The 


OPENING   THE   VAULTS 


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remaining  end  bricks  had  clattered 
out  ;  with  them  slid  down  some  heavy 
crosspiece,  the  farther  end  first,  burn- 
ing fiercely  with  the  additional  draught, 
and  the  big  flat  wall  was  drawing  out 
from  its  position,  bulging  a  little  and 


gathering  speed.  The  hose  was 
writhing  on  the  ground  as  the  men 
sped  from  the  spot.  There  was  a 
heavy  sound  like  the  launching  of  a 
big  vessel  and  the  belching  wave  was 
exactly  similar  ;  with  this  difference, 
that  it  was  of  a  sickly  orange  colour, 
and  the  shadowy  forms  of  four  men 
were  visible  before  it  overtook  them ; 
one  helmeted  fig^ure,  with  hands  out- 
stretched sinking  to  his  knees,  barely 
outside  the  line  of  the  fearsome 
shadow.  When  the  mist  of  powdered 
brick  cleared  and  they  ran  in,  a  dozen 
of  them,  he  was  slowly  rising  with  a 
limping^  leg. 

It  was  the  finish.  An  hour  after- 
ward the  dying  flame  paled  before  the 
broader  light  of  the  incoming'  day. 
When  thi^  sun,  the  source  of  all  light 
and  heat,  withdrew  the  evening  before^ 
like  the  villain  in  the  play,  folding  its 
mantle  and  softly  closing  the  door, 
the  thing  was  done.  Next  morning  it 
sauntered  up  from  the  other  direction^ 
passed  around  the  ruins  and  looked  at 
them  from  every  side,  with  the  most 
innocent  expression  on  its  face  you 
ever  saw  ;  It  even  looked  over  the 
shoulders  of  the  camera  irrepressibles, 
and  helped  them  make  pictures  of  the 
scene.  Yet  no  one  blames  Old  Sol, 
If  this  was  one  of  his  practical  jokes 
it  was  going  a  little  too  far,  and  **  the 
lessons  of  the  ^rz  *'  will  take  steps  to 
guard  against  other  vagaries. 


THE   FIGHT    FOR   THE   CUSTOMS    RECEIVING   HOUSE 


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jambs'  coach   (1829),   THE   FIRST   REALLY  PRACTICABLE  STEAM   CARRIAGE  BUILT 


THE  AUTOMOBILE  OF  1904 


By  T.  A.  RUSSELL 


VOLUTION,  not  revolution, 
may  be  said  to  be  the  fea- 
ture of  the  progress  of  the 
automobile  industry  in  1904. 
The  student  of  the  automo- 
bile finds  the  carriage  of  1904  superior 
in  almost  every  detail  to  its  predeces- 
sor of  the  last  two  or  three  years,  al- 
though few  new 
principles  of  con- 
struction have  been 
applied.  This  sea- 
son's vehicle  sur- 
passes its  ances- 
tors, not  by  some 
new  invention  ap- 
plied, but  by  the  ap- 
plication of  the  same 
principles  along  the 
lines  which  the  ex- 
perience of  manu- 
facturers, inventors 
and  operators  have 
found  to  be  most 
satisfactory.  The 
result  is  a  greater 
uniformity  of  type 
in  all  vehicles,  both 
in  appearance  and 
in  mechanical  con- 
struction. There  are 
fewer  freaks,  and 
fewer    carriages 


that  are  absolutely  poor  than  ever  be- 
fore. 

TYPES 

Some  three  years  ago  the  field 
seemed  to  be  fairly  equally  divided  be- 
tween the  steam,  the  gasoline  and 
the  electric  carriages.  Some  confusion 
may  arise  in  the  minds  of  the  general 


A  TYPE  OF  TOURING  CAR  FITTED  WITH  A  24  H. P.,  4  CYLINDER  MOTOR 


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public  as  to  the  disiinctioti 
between  the  steam  and  the 
gasoline.  In  the  former, 
gasoline  is  practically  al- 
ways used,  but  it  is  used  as 
a  fuel  to  generate  iiteam, 
from  which  the  power  is  ap- 
plied by  the  ordinary  me- 
thods adopted  in  steam  en- 
gines generally.  In  the  gas- 
oline type,  gasoline  is  used, 
by  being  mixed  with  air  and 
exploded  in  an  engine ;  its 
energy  being  thus  applied 
direct.  With  the  exception 
of  one  or  two  types  of  car- 
riage, the  steam  automobile 
has  not  held  its  own,  and 
has  given  way  to  the  gas- 
oline, which  has  at  the  pres- 
ent time  by  far  the  largest 
sale,  although  the  electric 
carriage  is  a  feature  of  the  automobile 
market,  and  still  remains  easily  the 
ideal  carriage  for  city  use. 

GASOLINE    MACHINES 

Turning  then  to  the  gasoline  auto- 
mobile. Many  marked  improvements 
have  been  made  in 

the  machines  ui  ihi.s 
season.      In  : 


SHOWING    HOW 

THE  SHAFT   DRIVE 

AND   REAR   AXLE 

ARE   WORKED 

TOGETHER 


TYPE  OF  A   RUNABOUT   CAR   FITTED  WITH   A   DOUBLE 
CYLINDER   ENGINE 


eral  way,  it  may  be  said  that 
most  of  the  motors  will 
**  Mote,"  and  that  no  long- 
er will  the  comic  papers  find 
material  for  their  columns 
in  the  eccentricities  of  these 
machines.  They  are  much 
more  reliable.  Parts  which 
were  found  to  be  too  light 
for  the  heavy  strain  of  road 
usage  have  been  strengthen- 
ed, and  the  possibility  ot 
vexatious  delays  and  break- 
downs removed.  In  most 
cases  the  power  of  the  en- 
gine has  been  increased,  so 
that  the  dismounting  of  pas- 
sengers on  a  steep  or  sandy 
hill  is  no  longer  a  necessity. 
But,  perhaps,  most  marked 
of  all  are  the  improvements 
which  have  been  brought 
about  in  the  reduction  of  noise,  and  the 
elimination  of  the  vibration,  which  was 
a  feature  of  the  first  carriages.  The 
enthusiastic  automobilist,  who  deserts 
his  business  to  ride  his  machine,  or  to 
haunt  the  repair  shops  and  showrooms 
of  the  automobile  dealers,  perhaps 
cares  little  whether 
his  machine  makes 
as  much  noise  as  a 
locomotive,  or 
shakes  and  rattles 
as  viciously  as  it 
chooses,  so  long  as 
it  has  power  to  pass 
all  others  on  the 
road  ;  but  with  the 
general  outside 
public  and  the  peo- 
ple of  refinement 
and  taste,  the  case 
is  different.  They 
were  not  interested 
in  a  noisy  carriage 
which  frightened  all 
horseflesh  from  the 


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THE  A  UTOMOBILE  OF  190^ 


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road,  nor  in  a  vehicle  which  shook  with 
all  the  vibration  of  the  moving  mechan- 
ism beneath ;  and  so  the  designers  and 
makers  for  1904  have  sought  to  pro- 
duce a  carriage  in  which  noise  as  far 
as  possible  is  eliminated,  and  from 
which  all  possible  vibration  of  machin- 
ery is  removed.  Those  who  view  the 
up-to-date  models  for  1904,  will  see 
how  well  in  many  cases  this  has  been 
accomplished. 


bile  of  the  runabout  class  had  what  is 
known  as  a  single-cylinder  engine, 
that  is  one  chamber  into  which  the 
mixture  of  air  and  gasoline  was  drawn 
to  be  compressed  by  the  piston  rod, 
and  exploded.  This  year,  in  the  me- 
dium-priced carriages,  there  is  a  mark- 
ed tendency  to  use  two-cylinder  en- 
gines; that  is  two  chambers  similar  to 
the  one  described  above,  situated  op- 
posite one  another,  the    result  bein^ 


A   FOUR-CYLINDER  ENGINE   FOR  AN   AUTOMOBILE — 24   HORSE   POWER 


THE   ENGINE 

To  show  how  these  features  have 
been  brought  about  requires  a  review 
of  the  vital  points  of  the  automobile. 
The  engine  is  essentially  the  heart  of 
the  machine.  In  it  great  improve- 
ments have  been  made;  where  possible 
weight  has  been  reduced  by  machining 
down  all  unnecessary  metal,  and  in 
the  higher  grade  machines  by  the  substi- 
tution of  aluminum  castings  for  iron. 
The  bearings  of  the  main  shafts  and 
the  pistons  have  been  increased  and 
thereby  strengthened.  The  design  of 
the  engine  has  been  to  a  very  consid- 
erable extent  altered  and  improved. 
A  year  ago,  practically  every  automo- 


that  when  an  explosion  is  taking  place 
in  one  chamber,  the  foul  gases  are  be- 
ing driven  out  of  the  other,  and  vice 
versa.  In  this  way  it  is  unnecessary 
to  have  such  a  big,  heavy  explosion  to 
obtain  the  same  power;  and,  conse- 
quently, the  two-cylinder  machines  ob- 
tain greater  power,  with  a  very  mater- 
ial reduction  of  both  noise  and  vibra- 
tion. 

The  engines  above  described  are  the 
type  now  used  in  the  runabout  classes 
of  automobiles.  Until  this  year  they 
were  also  used  in  the  touring  cars,  and 
larger  vehicles  as  well,  but  the  New 
York  Show,  in  January  last,  showed 
that  material  advance  had  been  made 


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THE  SLIDE   GEAR   TRANSMISSION 

For  increasing-  or  decreasing  the  speed  of  an  automobile. 
The  short  shaft  is  driven  by  the  engine  and  the  longer  shaft  is 
connected  with  the  wheels.  When  the  large  wheel  on  the  long 
shaft  is  meshed  with  the  small  wheel  on  the  other  shaft,  the  slow 
or  ** hill-climbing"  speed  results;  when  either  of  the  other  two 
gears  are  meshed,  the  speed  is  increased. 


in  these  cars  to  bring  them  in  conform- 
ity with  the  styles  and  structure  which 
had  been  worked  out  of  the  French 
models.     Instead  of  one  or  two-cylin- 


EXAMPLE   OF  A   DOUBLE-OPPOSED  CYLINDER  GASOLINE   ENGINE 

The  power  is  increased,  and  the  vibration  off-set  by  this  method 


der  engines  being 
situated  under  the 
body,  the  larger 
class  are  mostly 
equipped  with  three 
or  four  vertical  cyl- 
inders situated  in 
the  front  of  the  car- 
riage. This  is  a 
practical  necessity 
in  a  large  touring 
car,  as  the  parts  re- 
quire  attention, 
which  it  is  hardly 
possible  to  give 
them,  if  the  operator 
has  to  get  under  the 
machine  or  remove 
the  passengers  from 
the  car  in  order  to 
look  over  his  en- 
gine. The  location 
of  these  engines  in 
front  has  been  a 
marked  improve- 
ment. The  adop- 
tion of  the  three  or 
four-cylinder  en- 
gines has  rendered  possible  wide  vari- 
ations of  speed,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
material  reduction  of  noise  and  vibra- 
tion. Hence  the  leading  touring  car 
models  on  the  Am- 
erican market  this 
year  are  represen- 
tative of  the  very 
highest  type  of  au- 
tomobile construc- 
tion. 

THE    TRANSMISSION 

By  the  transmis- 
sion is  meant  the 
mechanism,  of  what- 
ever description  it 
may  be,  which  trans- 
mits  the  power 
from  the  engine  to 
the  rear  axle  for 
driving  the  carriage. 
In  this  transmission 
must  be  provided 
attachments  for 
changing  the  speed, 
so  that  at  the  one 


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THE  A  UTOMOBILE  OF  190^ 


^M 


time  in  climbing  a  hill,  the  engine  will 
be  allowed  to  run  at  its  full  speed, 
but  the  gears  be  so  reduced  that  the 
wheels  will  be  moving  somewhat  slow- 
ly and  the  maximum  of  power  applied. 
In  the  same  way  arrangements  have  to 
be  made  for  higher  speed  under 
favourable  conditions,  and  for 
reverse  or  backing  up  as  well. 

The  runabout  carriages  are 
mostly  equipped  with  what  is 
known  as  a  planetary  system 
of  transmission,  and  having 
generally  two  speeds  forward 
and  one  for  reverse.  The  tour- 
ing cars  are  usually  equipped 
with  a  sliding  gear  transmis- 
sion, usually  with  a  range  of 
three  speeds  forward  and  one 
reverse.  Its  general  plan  is 
seen  in  the  illustrations.  Both ' 
of  these  systems  of  transmis- 
sion for  the  season  of  1904 
show  improvement  in  the  way 
of  strengthening  the  bearings, 
improving  the  lubrication,  and 
reducing  the  noise. 

The  control  of  the  machines 
has  been  improved,  most  of 
them  adopting  the  wheel  steer 
device  for  steering,  which  gives 
the  maximum  power  to  the  op- 
erator with  the  minimum  of 
eflfort.  Levers  have  been  sim- 
plified, so  that  a  yery  few  min- 
utes' instruction  will  enable  the 
ordinary  person  to  operate  his 
own  carriage. 

The  speed  of  the  vehicles  is 
controlled  in  three  ways.  First, 
by  the  transmission  gear  above 
described;  second,  by  the  throt- 
tle which  regulates  the  amount 
of  air  and  gasoline  admitted  to 
the  combustion  chamber;  and 
third,  by  the  timing  device 
which  regulates  the  rapidity  of 
the  explosion.  All  these  are 
usually  conveniently  situated 
on  or  near  the  steering  wheel. 

THE   LUBRICATION 

Lubrication  is  one  of  the  important 
features  of  an  automobile.  Lack  of  oil 
will  not  only  cause  temporary  heating. 


and,  consequently,  stoppage  of  the 
machine,  but  very  often  serious  dam- 
age to  it.  Formerly  it  was  left  tothe 
operator  to  turn,  on  the  oil  when  he 
started  his  machine.  Frequently  he 
forgot  to  do  so,  with  the  consequent 

FROM    "SELF-PROPELLED   VEHICLES"   BY 
J.   E.   HOMANS  1908 


.   THE  CYCLE  OF  A  FOUR  CYCLE  GAS  BNGINB 

Note  the  three  valves,  one  letting  in  gas,  one  air, 
and  the  third  releasing  the  exhaust.  The  position  of 
these  valves  varies  in  each  part  of  the  revolution.  The 
first  outward  stroke  of  the  piston  draws  in  gas  and  air. 
The  back  stroke  compresses  it.  It  is  then  exploded 
and  the  second  outward  stroke  follows.  The  second 
back  stroke  drives  out  the  resulting  gases. 


result  of  over-heating  and  damage. 
Most  of  the  improved  1904  models 
have  automatic  oilers,  which  start  the 
oiling  when  the  machine  starts,  and 
stop  when  the  machine  stops,  thus 
eliminating  trouble  in  this   direction. 


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Frequently  sight  feed  oilers  are  used 
in  conjunction  with  the  automatic  at- 
tachment, so  that  the  operator  can  see 
if  anything-  is  prevjsnting  the  proper 
lubrication  of  the  parts. 

COOLING 

The  constant  explosion  of  air  and 
gasoline  in  the  engine  tends  to  create 
a  heat  which  would  prevent  the  further 
running  of  the  machine  if  some  means 
were  not  provided  for  cooling  the 
engine.  The  result  is  that  this  has  now 
been  adequately  provided  for  by  cover- 
ing the  engine  with  a  water  jacket, 
which  is  connected  by  pipes  with  a 
radiator  to  the  front  of  the  carriage 
and  with  a  pump  operated  by  the 
engine,  so  that  the  moment  the  engine 
and  the  vehicle  starts,  hot  water  sur- 
rounding the  engine  is  pumped  through 
the  pipes  into  the  radiator  in  front  of 
the  carriage,  where  it  is  cooled  by  the 
air  passing  through,  and  again  returns 
to  the  engine,  and  so  is  kept  in  con- 
stant circulation,  cooling  the  engine  as 
desired. 

TIRES 

All  these  improvements  relate  to  the 
mechanical  features  of  the  carriage. 
Other  improvements,  which  commend 
themselves  to  the  operators,  have  been 
accomplished.  Probably  the  most  im- 
portant is  in  the  tires. 

The  pneumatic  tire  had  never  been 
applied  to  vehicles  other  than  the 
bicycle,  and  its  extension  to  the  auto- 
mobile was  for  many  years  the  cause 
of  trouble  on  account  of  its  previous 
extreme  lightness  of  construction.  The 
tires  have  been  so  improved  now  that 
practically  no  more  trouble  should  be 
given  by  an  automobile  tire  than  by  a 
bicycle  tire. 

GENERAL   STYLE 

The  body  of  the  automobile  has 
been  improved  both  in  appearance  and 
in  comfort.  In  appearance  it  has 
got  away  from  the  horseless  look,  and 
now  stands  as  a  type  of  its  own  as  an 
automobile  and  not  a  horseless  car- 
riage. The  seats  have  been  made 
roomier,  the  upholstery  improved,  can- 
opy tops  and  other  devices  for  protec- 


tion from  the  weather  added,  so  that 
the  comfort  of  the  passenger  is  catered 
to  in  every  detail. 

The  gasoline  automobile  is  not  yet 
perfect  any  more  than  the  bicycle  or 
the  top  buggy,  or  any  other  article  of 
human  contrivance  is  perfect,  but  this 
season  sees  it  far  beyond  the  ex- 
perimental stage,  sees  it  placed  on 
a  plane  of  reliability  and  excellence, 
where  it  will  commend  itself  to  that 
large  public  which  requires  a  safe 
and  speedy  means  of  transportation, 
both  for  pleasure  and  for  business 
purposes. 

THE   ELECTRIC   CARRIAGE 

The  electric  carriage  has  been 
materially  improved  for  1904.  Some 
remarks  which  apply  to  the  design  of 
the  body,  strengthening  of  the  running 
gear,  improvement  of  the  tires,  etc., 
of  the  gasoline  carriage,  apply  to  the 
electric. 

An  electric  carriage,  outside  of  an 
ordinary  vehicle,  contains  practical- 
ly two  elements,  a  storage  bat- 
tery, and,  a  motor  transforming  the 
energy  of  the  battery  into  motion, 
which  is  in  turn  transmitted  to  the 
rear  axle  of  the  carriage.  In  other 
words,  an  electric  carriage  is  an  or- 
dinary buggy  with  a  storage  battery, 
and  an  electric  motor  added. 

The  storage  battery  shows  substan- 
tial improvement  this  year.  It  is  made 
up  of  a  number  of  cells  from  twenty  to 
forty  in  number,  depending  on  the 
style  of  carriage.  Each  cell  is  com- 
posed of  a  hard  rubber  jar,  in  which 
are  placed  a  number  of  positive  and 
negative  plates,  separated  from  each 
other  by  either  wood  or  rubber  separ- 
ators, the  spaces  being  filled  with  a 
liquid  known  as  **  Electrolyte.'*  The 
positive  plates  for  these  cells  are  con- 
nected together  with  the  negative  of 
the  other  cells,  and  the  whole  com- 
plete connected  with  the  motor. 

The  battery  upon  which  Mr.  Edison 
has  been  working  departs  from  the 
present  type  of  construction  entirely. 
The  jars,  instead  of  being  of  hard  rub- 
ber, are  of  iron  and  nickel.  The  plates 
instead  of  being  formed  of  lead  and  lead 


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SOl^G  OF  TOIL  147 

oxides,  of  iron  and  nickel.  The-elec-  age  battery  are  such  as  to  justify  a 
trolyte  used,  instead  of  being  of  an  largely  increased  sale  of  electric  car- 
acid  solution,  is  an  alkali.  Great  ad-  riages  for  city  use.  They  are  absolute- 
vantages  are  claimed  for  this  battery  ly  noiseless  in  running,  free  from  vi- 
in  the  way  of  durability  and  increased  bration,  and  are  so  simple  in  operation 
mileage.  At  present  its  objections  are  that  a  child  can  drive  them.  With  a 
the  low  voltage  of  the  cells  requiring  radius  of  35  or  40  miles,  they  are  the 
50  per  cent,  more  cells  than  a  lead  bat-  ideal  city  carriage. 
tery,  consequently  more  room  in  a  The  changes  which  have  been  out- 
carriage,  and,  secondly,  the  higher  lined  are  the  kind  of  changes  which 
cost.  Some  of  these  difficulties  may  will  give  confidence  to  an  intending 
be  overcome  in  another  season,  but  for  purchaser.  They  are  not  new  experi- 
this  year  the  Edison  battery  is  not  a  ments  to  get  at  different  results,  but 
commercial  proposition  in  Canada,  at  are  improvements  on  methods  and  ap- 
least.  Meantime,  however,  the  im-  pliances  well  tested  out,  and  should 
provements  in  the  present  type  of  stor-  therefore  be  reliable  in  the  extreme. 


SONG    OF    TOIL 

BY   WILLIAM  J.    FISCHER 

r\  LISTEN  to  the  bustle  and  the  rustle  in  the  street! 
^^     List  to  the  click  and  clatter  of  ambitious,  hurried  feett 

O  hear  the  steady  voices 

While  fresh  young  life  rejoices 
In  the  raging,  battle  heat! 

O  how  I  love  the  gladness  and  the  madness  of  the  crowd, 
That  blinding,  winding,  finding  goes  a-hunting,  where  the  loud 

Incessant,  rhythmic  laughter 

Fills  bright  hearts  with  the  after 
Peace,  so  free  and  love-endowed! 

How  like  a  mighty  ocean  is  the  motion  of  the  tide 
Of  human  beings,  gaily,  daily  passing  down  the  wide 

Paths  of  hopes  undiscovered. 

Where  sickly  Pain  oft  hovered, 
And  where  sorrow  knelt  and  sighed! 

O  heart  of  mine!  the  rattle  and  the  battle  in  the  street 

Fills  thee  with  courage,  proudly — loudly,  while  thy  forces  beat 

Against  its  casement  dreary! 

Ah!  life  it  is  not  weary 
When  the  toil  is  glad  and  sweet! 


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A   HISTORY  IN    TWELVE 
INSTALMENTS    ^     ^     ^ 


CHAPTER  VI.— DIFFICULTIES  IN  FORMING  A  MINISTRY— PITT  SUCCEEDS 
TO  POWER— FRENCH  ATTACK  REPULSED  ON  LAKE  GEORGE— ANOTHER 
BRITISH  FORCE  SAILS— LOUDON'S  FUTILE  EXPEDITION  AGAINST  LOUIS- 
BOURG— THE  FRENCH  CAPTURE  FORT  WILLIAM  HENRY— THE  MASSACRE 
BY  THE  INDIANS— 1756-1757. 


DURING  the  past  autumn  the  dead 
weight  of  Newcastle's  blighting 
hand  had  been  lifted  from  British 
policy.  His  very  friends  could  no 
longer  be  either  bribed  or  flattered  in- 
to his  service,  so  with  a  groan  of  an- 
guish like  that  of  a  miser  parting  with 
his  hoard,  the  venerable  intriguer  and 
pettiest  of  Prime  Ministers  at  last  re- 
signed. But  it  was  no  easy  matter  at 
that  moment  to  form  a  fresh  Ministry. 
The  personal  likes  and  dislikes  of  the 
king,  his  natural  attachment  to  Han- 
over, and  the  mutual  antipathies  of 
potential  ministers  made  a  strong  Gov- 
ernment impossible,  and  even  a  com- 
promise most  difficult.  Pitt  was  al- 
ready recognized  as  not  only  the  most 
popular  but  as  the  most  brilliant  of  the 
group.  But  Pitt  was  most  unaccept- 
able to  the  king,  whose  knowledge  of 
English  was  anything  but  profound, 
while  his  love  of  brevity  in  the  discus- 
sion of  business  was  notorious,  and 
the  Great  Commoner  had  a  habit  of 
treating  him  in  his  closet  to  flights  of 
oratory  which  were  not  only  unintelli- 


gible to  his  Majesty  but  insupportable 
to  his  practical,  drill-sergeant  type  of 
mind.  Lord  Temple  was  another  un- 
welcome counsellor.  His  civility  the 
king  found  only  less  offensive  than  his 
remonstrances,  which  at  times  he  de- 
clared took  the  form  of  downright  in- 
solence. 

The  result  of  the  lengthy  and  preca- 
rious confusion  which  followed  the  res- 
ignation of  Newcastle,  was  the  rise 
of  Pitt  to  supreme  power,  a  power  so 
gloriously  used  as  to  make  the  epoch 
marked  by  it  one  of  the  most  memor- 
able in  the  annals  of  Britain.  A  not- 
able feature,  too,  of  the  moment  was 
the  partnership  of  Newcastle  with  the 
man  who  had  so  mercilessly  lashed 
him  and  so  utterly  despised  him.  Noth- 
ing but  the  greatness  of  the  one  and 
the  insignificance  of  the  other  made 
such  a  combination  possible.  So 
Newcastle  returned  to  office,  but  on 
the  sole  condition  of  abjuring  all  con- 
nection with  great  affairs,  and  of  con- 
fining himself  wholly  to  the  dirty  work 
of  politics,  which  he  loved,  and  which 


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THE  FIGHT  FOR  NORTH  AMERICA 


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possessed  at  that  time  an  importance 
not  veiy  easy  nowadays  to  fully  real- 
ize. Pitt  had  now  a  free  hand,  but 
when  that  happy  *  consummation  was 
reached  it  was  past  midsummer,  and 
he  could  exercise  but  little  influence  on 
the  year's  operations  which  had  been 
already  planned.  He  had  succeeded, 
however,  in  the  face  of  some  opposi- 
tion, in  raising  the  first  of  those  High- 
land regiments  which  from  that  day  to 
this  have  been  such  a  conspicuous  fea- 
ture in  our  line  of  battle.  Fifty-two 
thousand  men  had  been  voted  in  the 
recent  Session  of  Parliament  for  the 
Army,  and  forty-five  thousand  for  the 
Navy;  while  the  militia  had  not  been 
neglected.  Eight  thousand  men  were 
ordered  to  reinforce  Loudon  in  Amer- 
ica, and,  adopting  that  general's  very 
dubious  advice,  Louisbourg,  with  Que- 
bec to  follow  in  the  event  of  success, 
was  made  the  somewhat  premature 
object  of  the  main  attack.  It  was  an 
ill  fate  for  France  that  the  moment 
which  saw  the  advent  of  Pitt  to  power 
in  the  councils  of  Britain  almost  coin- 
cided with  the  withdrawal  from  her 
own  of  the  men  who  had  been  the 
chief  support  of  her  Canadian  policy. 
Such  forces  as  she  had  thrown  into 
Canada  were  of  excellent  quality,  and 
in  Montcalm  at  least  she  possessed  by 
very  far  the  ablest  soldier  on  the  Am- 
erican continent  at  that  time,  while  in 
her  colonists  she  had  a  willing  and 
efficient  militia.  Through  the  past 
winter  of  1756-57,  little  could  be  as- 
certained in  Canada  about  the  inten- 
tions of  the  British.  The  bare  rumour 
of  a  threatened  attack  on  Quebec, 
would  cramp  Montcalm's  movements 
and  prevent  him  from  fully  concentrat- 
ing his  strength  in  an  attack  on  Al- 
bany and  the  flourishing  settlements 
of  the  Hudson.  The  tardy  fashion  in 
which  news  crossed  the  ocean  in  those 
days  is  hard  to  realize,  and  Quebec 
particularly,  seated  on  its  throne  of 
snow  and  cut  off  from  the  Atlantic  by 
endless  leagues  of  ice  and  vast  areas 
of  frozen  forests,  awaited  each  recur- 
ring spring,  in  a  state  of  more  or  less 
uncertainty,  what  fate  might  be  in 
store  for  it  at  the  bursting  of  the  leaf. 


Vaudreuil  wrote  to  his  Government 
upon  every  opportunity  long  letters  in 
praise  of  himself  and  his  Canadians, 
and  in  depreciation  of  Montcalm  and 
his  regulars.  Montcalm  also  wrote 
home,  touching  with  good-^natured 
contempt  on  Vaudreuil  as  an  amiable 
man  without  a  will  of  his  own,  and  the 
victim  of  designing  creatures.  He 
speaks  of  the  Canadians  as  useful  be- 
hind breastworks  or  in  the  woods,  but 
of  no  account  for  a  front  attack.  Like 
every  other  European  visitor  of  that 
day,  he  remarks  on  their  inordinate 
vanity  and  boastfulness,  *'  believing 
themselves  to  be  the  first  nation  on 
earth." 

Vaudreuil  confides  to  the  French 
minister  that  one  Canadian  is  worth 
three  soldiers  from  old  France,  though 
the  latter^  he  condescends  to  admit, 
are  good  in  their  ways,  and  it  is  sig- 
nificant he  presses  for  more  of  them  ! 
His  figures,  when  applied  to  the  facts 
of  a  campaign,  might  almost  be  re- 
versed without  being  very  wide  of  the 
truth.  He  had  a  tolerably  consistent 
plan  of  multiplying  the  enemy  in  every 
engagement  by  two,  and  their  losses 
by  three  or  four.  Montcalm's  victor- 
ies, too,  were  all  due  to  Vaudreuil's 
initiative  and  support;  his  reverses  to 
neglect  of  Vaudreuil's  advice.  By  this 
time,  however,  the  French  Government 
had  probably  begun  to  pigeon-hole  the 
voluminous  documents  that  emanated 
from  Quebec.  The  Governor's  child- 
ish vanity  and  hopeless  inability  to 
speak  the  truth  did  little  harm.  He 
had  his  uses,  being  amazingly  ener- 
getic and  really  patriotic,  while  extol- 
ling everything  Canadian  at  the  ex- 
pense of  France  was  perhaps  just  now 
a  fault  on  the  right  side.  When  it 
came  to  severe  fighting,  however, 
Montcalm  generally  took  his  own  line, 
and  it  signified  very  little  if  the  Gover- 
nor filled  sheets  of  paper  claiming  the 
credit  of  it,  if  credit  were  earned,  and 
sent  them  to  a  remote  Minister  of  Ma- 
rine, who  probably  never  broke  the 
seal.  If  Montcalm  had  a  fault,  it  was 
perhaps  his  temper,  which  seems  to 
have  been  quick.  Like  Braddock,  he, 
no  doubt,  had  infinite  provocation. 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


But  the   silence   of  this    winter  on 
Lake   George  was  not   to   be  broken 
only  by  the  howling  of  wolves  in  the 
Adirondack  Mountains  and  the  roar  of 
falling  trees  in  the  snow-laden  forests. 
The  outposts  who  guarded  the  tempor- 
ary frontier    of    the'  two    nations    at 
Ticonderoga  and  Fort  William  Henry, 
respectively,  amused  themselves  from 
time  to  time,  and  not  unprofitably,  in 
scouting  for  prisoners,  whose  informa- 
tion was  highly  prized,  and  failing  this, 
for  scalps.     One  really  serious  attempt 
on  the  British  fort  was  made  in  March. 
It  seems   to   have  been   designed  by 
Vaudreuil,  and  was  placed,   morever, 
under  command  of  his  brother  Rigaud, 
which  sufficiently  accounted  in  the  eyes 
of  the  old  French  party  for  its  com- 
parative failure.     Nor  did  he  trust  to 
the  few  hundred  men  who  were  win- 
tering at  the  front  for  his  enterprise, 
but  pushed  forward  from  Montreal  a 
force  that  raised  the  attacking  party 
to     1, 600    men  —  regulars,    redskins, 
and   Canadians.     They   stayed    some 
time  at  Ticonderoga   making  scaling 
ladders,    and   with    these  upon  their 
shoulders  they  traversed  the  lake  on 
the  ice  and  crept  close  to  the  British 
fort  on  th^  night  of  March  the  eight- 
eenth,   to  the  entire   surprise  of  the 
garrison.     Major   Eyre  was   in  com- 
mand  with    less    than    four  hundred 
effective  men.     The  British  garrisons 
in  all  these  cheerless,  wintry  stations 
made     the     most     of     anniversaries. 
Major  Knox,  in  his  day-to-day  journal 
of  dreary  banishment  among  the  Acad- 
ian forests,  gives  amusing  accounts  of 
the  strenuous  efforts  at  festivals  which 
the  feasts  of  St.  George,  St.   Andrew 
and    St.    Patrick,  to   say   nothing    of 
birthdays,  called  forth  among  the  sol- 
diers.    At    Fort   William    Henry  the 
Irish  saint  had  been   done  full  justice 
to  the  day  before  in  copious  libations 
of  rum,  and  the  gallant  colonial  rang- 
ers, having  as  yet  no  Fourth  of  July  to 
their  credit,  patronized  indiscriminate- 
ly   the    festal    days    of    their    British 
brothers  in  arms. 

The  French  were  just  a  day  too  late 
to  gain  what  advantages  might  have 
accrued  from  any  laxity  after  such  fes- 


tivities, and  were  received  in  the  dark- 
ness by  a  shower  of  grape  and  round- 
shot  from  the  garrison,  who  had  heard 
the  sounds  of  their  Approach  while  yet 
upon  the  ice.     Vaudreuil  had  not  only 
given  his  brother   the  command,  but 
had   put   his    notorious    predilections 
into  practice  and  pinned  his  faith  on 
his  favourite  Canadians  and  Indians. 
Admirable  in  defence  and  in  the  woods, 
they  now  showed  their  incapacity  for 
a  front  attack  on  ramparts  manned  by 
determined  men.     Two   hundred  and 
seventy-four  regulars  of  the  44th  regi- 
ment and  72  rangers  kept  this  force  of 
1 ,600  men  at  bay  for  five  days.     They 
were  offered  lenient  terms  of  surrender, 
and  at  the  same  time  virtually  assured 
of  massacre  by  the  Indians  in  the  event 
of  refusal.     But   these   gallant    men, 
though   neither   well   found   nor  very 
well   protected,  refused   the   overture 
with  scorn.     It  is  significant,  too,  that 
these  soldiers  were  the  remains  of  one 
of  Braddock's  broken  regiments,  while 
the  most  active  of  Rigaud's  officers  in 
attack  was  Dumas,  the  hero  of  that 
fatal  field.     This  time  the  tables  were 
turned,  and  the  French  many  fell  back 
before  the  British  few,  not,  however, 
before  they  had  succeeded  in  burning 
the  detached   outbuildings  round  the 
fort   and   a    considerable    number   of 
sloops,  batteaux  and  whale-boats  that 
lay  ready  or  in  course  of  construction 
for  the  operations  of  the  coming  sea- 
son.    On  March  24th  the  whole  French 
force  disappeared  down  the  lake  amid 
a  blinding  snowstorm,  having  cost  their 
Government  fifty  thousand  ItvreSy  and 
inflicted  a  loss  equal  to  perhaps  a  tenth 
of  that  amount.     Eyre  and  his  brave 
garrison  marched  out  with  their  numer- 
ous sick  a  few  days  later,  and  were 
duly  replaced  by  five  companies  of  the 
35th,  under  Monroe,  whose   name  is 
indelibly    associated   with     the    more 
memorable  events  that  in  the  coming 
summer  made  the  spot  famous  in  his- 
tory for  all  time  to  come. 

It  was  in  this  same  month  of  March, 
1757,  that  the  gallant  Knox  commenc- 
ed, as  a  lieutenant,  that  invaluable 
journal  which  he  closed  four  years  later 
as  a  major  at  the  fall  of  Montreal.    He 


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THE  FIGHT  FOR  NORTH  AMERICA 


^51 


was  now  at  Athenry  in  charge  of  a 
detachment  of  the  43rd  regiment, 
y^hose  headquarters  were  in  Galway. 
They  were  ordered  to  Cork,  as  part  of 
the  force  of  8,000  men  which  Parlia- 
ment had  recently  voted  for  Loudon's 
support.  Six  other  regiments  from 
various  Irish  stations  were  gathering 
at  the  western*  seaport,  namely,  the 
second  battalion  of  the  ist  Royals,  a 
thousand  strong,  together  with  the 
17th,  27th,  28th,  46th,  and  the  55th, 
each  mustering  some  seven  hundred 
effective  men.  By  the  end  of  March 
they  were  all  collected,  and  lay  await- 
ing the  fleet  from  England  that  was  to 
convey  them  to  America,  their  actual 
destination — namely,  Halifax — being 
not  yet  made  known.  Cork,  at  the 
present  day,  does  not  suggest  itself  as 
the  port  most  likely  to  treat  an  Imperial 
armament  destined  for  foreign  service 
with  special  enthusiasm  or  an  excess 
of  practical  sympathy.  But  Knox,  who 
was  a  Scotsman,  cannot  express  sufii* 
cient  admiration  for  its  attitude  during 
the  six  or  seven  weeks  in  which  the 
city  swarmed  with  soldiers  and  sailors. 
It  was  one  of  cordial  good-will  and 
generous  effort.  There  were  neither 
the  riots  nor  brawls  common  in  his 
experience  to  the  influx  of  a  large 
force  into  a  big  town.  Instead  of 
raising  the  price  of  necessaries  and 
lodgings  on  the  poor  soldier,  under 
such  great  demand,  as  was  the  com- 
mon custom,  the  citizens  gave  him  of 
their  best  at  the  lowest  prices,  while 
large  subscriptions  were  raised  for  the 
support  of  the  women  and  children  he 
left  behind  him.  One  is  accustomed 
to  think  a  somewhat  brutal  indifference 
in  matters  of  this  sort  was  character- 
istic of  the  Hogarthian  period,  and 
Knox's  account  of  Cork  at  a  trying 
period  is  pleasant  reading.  There 
were  no  meetings,  such  as  we  now 
see,  to  vote  success  to  the  scalping 
knives  of  the  Shewanoes  and  Potta- 
wattamies.  Even  if  the  blessings  of 
free  speech  had  been  then  sufficiently 
developed,  the  native  sense  of  humour 
was  still  too  strong  to  have  tolerated 
in  the  alderman  of  the  day  such  doleful 
exhibitions  of    clumsy   malice.     Sym- 


pathy with  France,  as  a  Catholic  power, 
and  indeed,  for  more  solid  reasons, 
might  reasonably  have  been  looked  for 
in  Cork  at  such  a  time,  but  Knox  at 
least  tells  us  of  no  such  discordant 
notes.  On  April  25th  the  expected 
fleet  of  warships  and  transports  appear- 
ed off  the  Old  Head  of  Kinsale,  and  on 
the  following  day  anchored  in  Cork 
harbour.  There  were  fifteen  battle- 
ships carrying  nearly  a  thousand  guns, 
and  fifty  transports,  averaging  some 
two  hundred  and  fifty  tons  apiece,  for 
conveying  the  troops,  besides  numer- 
ous other  craft  laden  with  stores,  siege 
guns,  and  ammunition.  It  may  be 
worth  noting,  too,  that  a  hospital  ship 
of  five  hundred  tons  accompanied  the 
fleet.  The  force  embarked  was  in  all 
something  under  six  thousand  men. 

It  required  about  six  transports  to 
carry  a  regiment,  giving,  therefore, 
something  over  a  hundred  men,  besides 
officers  and  a  few  women  and  children, 
to  every  vessel,  while  each  one  carried 
a  pennon  to  distinguish  the  regiment 
it  was  helping  to  convey.  The  Ad- 
miral in  command  was  Holborne,  with 
Commodore  Holmes  as  second.  The 
long  delay  in  reaching  Cork  had  been 
caused  by  adverse  winds,  and  it  was 
this,  in  great  part,  and  not  mere  official 
dilatoriness,  as  is  sometimes  said,  that 
proved  the  eventual  failure  of  the  en- 
terprise. French  fleets,  it  is  true,  had 
got  out  promptly  and  were  already 
across.  But  they  were  unhampered 
by  convoys,  nor  does  it  follow  that  the 
conditions  of  sailing  from  the  Bay  of 
Biscay  were  always  suitable  to  getting 
out  of  the  Solent. 

It  was  the  eighth  of  May  when  the 
British  fleet,  numbering  upwards  of 
a  hundred  ships,  with  their  white  sails 
filled  by  a  favouring  wind,  swarmed 
out  into  the  open  sea.  Here  three 
more  battleships  and  a  frigate  put  in 
an  appearance,  owing  to  a  report  that 
a  large  French  fleet  intended  to  inter- 
cept Holborne,  and  there  was  good 
ground  for  the  rumour. 
•  Knox  gives  us  a  vivid  picture  of  life 
on  one  of  these  small  transports  a 
hundred  and  fifty  years  ago.  They 
soon   experienced    bad   weather,    and 


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their  ship  was  separated  from  the  fleet 
more  than  once,  though  they  succeed- 
ed in  finding  it  again.  When  a  fort- 
night out,  however^  they  lost  it 
altogether,  and  were  left  henceforward 
to  their  own  devices.  What  those  of  the 
skipper  were  likely  to  be  soon  became 
unmistakable.  Indeed,  Knox  and 
his  companions  had  shrewd  suspicions 
that,  if  this  worthy  mariner  had  not 
actually  contrived  their  isolation,  he 
was  in  no  way  depressed  by  it.  On 
their  urgent  demands  and  with  some 
reluctance  he  opened  his  secret  orders, 
which  proved  Halifax  to  be  their  des- 
tination, as  was  generally  suspected. 
The  course  he  proceeded  to  steer,  how- 
ever, struck  even  infantry  officers  as 
having  a  strangely  southern  bias  about 
it  for  the  coast  of  Nova  Scotia.  It 
was  more  than  suspected  that  he  had 
letters  of  marque,  for  privateering  was 
just  then  immensely  profitable.  The 
skipper's  cabin »  too,  bristled  with 
cutlasses  and  firearms ;  the  ship 
mounted  seven  guns,  and  with  a  force 
of  a  hundred  soldiers  besides  his  crew 
on  board,  the  temptation  to  get  into  the 
track  of  merchant  vessels  and  engage 
in  a  little  profitable  diversion  seems  to 
have  proved  altogether  too  strong. 

They  sighted  several  ships,  and 
each  time  the  decks  were  cleared  for 
action,  but  in  every  case  a  closer 
inspection  proved  the  hoped-for  prize 
or  suspected  enemy  to  be  a  neutral  or 
a  friend.  One  really  humorous  en- 
counter is  related.  A  Massachusetts 
privateer  approached  our  bellicose 
transport  in  threatening  fashion,  the 
only  sign  of  her  nationality  being  the 
apparently  convincing  one  of  the  white 
uniforms  and  pointed  hats  worn  by 
French  soldiers,  plainly  discernible 
upon  her  decks.  Having  cleared  for  an 
encounter  that  looked  remarkably  un- 
promising for  Knox  and  his  friends, 
the  true  nationality  of  the  stranger 
was  disclosed,  and  the  mystery  of  the 
French  uniforms  was  solved  by  means 
of  a  speaking  trumpet.  They  belong- 
ed, in  fact,  to  a  number  of  French 
prisoners  whom  the  Yankee  had  cap- 
tured with  a  French  ship.  She,  on 
her  part,  had  made  precisely  the  same 


mistake  in  regard  to  the  British 
transport.  It  seems  to  have  been  an 
economical  custom  of  that  day  to  makQ 
the  soldiers  wear  their  uniforms 
inside-out  on  board  ship,  and  those  of 
the  43rd  having  white  linings,  it  gave 
them  all  the  appearance,  at  a  distance, 
of  French  troops*  On  their  mutual 
errors  being  discovered,  the  officers 
politely  asked  the  captain  of  the 
privateer  to  dinner,  but  the  amenities 
were  extended  even  to  the  ships 
themselves,  which  got  so  fast  locked 
together  that  for  a  short  time  they 
were  in  a  somewhat  serious  predica- 
ment. The  Yankee  skipper,  says 
Knox,  went  down  on  his  knees  upon 
the  deck  and  called  aloud  to  Heaven, 
while  his  British  confrere  jumped  into 
the  rigging  and  soundly  cursed  both 
crews  at  the  top  of  his  voice  till  they 
had  effected  a  separation — much  the 
surest  method,  according  to  our  diarist, 
of  getting  the  job  done.  Another 
little  incident  is,  I  think,  worth  relating. 
Though  Divine  service  was  punctilious- 
ly performed  on  the  deck  of  the  trans- 
port, the  first  mate  was  accustomed  to 
introduce  a  most  scandalous  novelty 
into  the  ritual.  No  one,  we  are  told, 
was  louder  or  more  devout  in  the 
responses  than  this  excellent  man ; 
but  the  ship  had  to  be  sailed,  and  he 
had  to  sail  her.  In  the  usual  course 
of  business,  therefore,  it  became  neces- 
sary for  him  to  lift  his  eyes  from  his 
devotions  and  from  time  to  time 
shout  directions  to  the  sailors  on  duty. 
These  he  gave  with  no  mitigation 
whatever  of  his  week-day  phraseology, 
returning  in  the  most  imperturbable 
fashion  after  each  discharge  to  his 
responses.  It  was  not  easy,  says 
Knox,  for  the  soldiers  to  preserve 
their  decorum,  particularly  if  one  of  the 
mate's  eloquent  broadsides  was  inter- 
mingled with  the  responses  of  the 
latter  half  of  the  Litany.  Fogs  and 
icebergs,  whales,  dolphins  and  *' gram- 
puses," and  all  the  wonders  of  the 
deep,  were  encountered  and  duly 
chronicled  by  this  observant  soldier, 
till  on  June  30th  they  slipped  into 
Halifax  harbour  the  first  of  all  the 
fleet.     There  they  found  Loudon  with 


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his  troops  just  landed  from  New  York 
by  Admiral  Sir  Charles  Hardy,  and 
hastened  on  shore  to  give  him  such 
news  as  they  could — which  was  little 
enough — of  the  armament  he  was  so 
anxiously  awaiting. 

Loudon,  of  a  truth,  whatever  his 
shortcomings,  had  passed  a  most  un* 
pleasant  winter.  The  sense  of  failure 
rested  upon  him  as  upon  the  whole 
British  interest  in  America.  There 
was  even  more  soreness  than  usual,  . 
too,  between  the  army  and  the  colon- 
ists^ the  trouble  this  time  lying  in  the 
much-vexed  question  of  quarters. 
Seeing  that  Loudon  and  his  soldiers 
were  employed  in  the  immediate  inter- 
ests of  the  colonies,  it  was  not  unrea- 
sonable to  expect  their  people  to  show 
some  concern  for  the  comfort  of  their 
defenders.  Boston,  New  York,  and 
Philadelphia  were  naturally  selected  by 
the  commander-in-chief  for  the  winter 
quarters  of  his  army.  But  the  first  of 
these  cities  showed  much  backward- 
ness in  providing  shelter,  while  the  two 
last  were  still  more  inhospitable  and 
provided  none  at  all  till  they  were 
forced  to  by  threats  of  coercion.  Lou- 
don swore  that,  if  New  York  would 
not  house  the  troops  he  had  placed 
there,  he  would  compel  them  to  accom- 
modate double  the  number.  The  men 
were  suffering  and  sickening  for  lack 
of  shelter,  and  the  fierce  Northern  win- 
ter was  already  upon  them.  The  As- 
sembly at  length  gave  in  as  regards  the 
men,  but  held  out  in  the  matter  of  the 
officers.  Loudon  responded  by  send- 
ing half  a  dozen  of  the  latter  to  the 
house  of  a  prominent  townsman,  with 
a  threat  of  sending  twelve  if  he  declin- 
ed to  receive  them.  These  amenities 
were  not  conducive  to  good  feeling, 
and  there  were  probably  faults  on  both 
sides.  The  old  English  constitutional 
dislike  of  soldiers  and  a  standing  army 
was  in  the  blood  of  the  colonists,  and 
the  comparatively  rigid  habits  of  life 
made  them  dread  the  easy  notions  ot 
the  British  soldier  of  all  ranks.  Still, 
without  the  British  soldier  the  colonists 
would  have  been  helplessly  exposed  at 
this  time,  both  in  person  and  estate,  to 
their  active   enemies,    ai^d   had  some 


cause  to  be  grateful.  True,  the  per- 
formances of  the  army  had  not  so  far 
been  brilliant,  but  such  organization 
and  initiative  as  had  been  shown  was 
due  in  the  main  to  British  soldiers  and 
British  money.  The  colonial  militia, 
according  to  Loudon,  had  an  airy  way 
of  simplifying  difficult  operations,  and 
talked  glibly  of  **taking  Ticonderoga" 
or  ''marching  to  Canada."  The  tend- 
ency to  inflated  talk  is  part  of  the 
atmosphere  of  new  countries,  it  is  al- 
most natural  to  their  life.  Any  one 
who  has  lived  in  them  nowadays  can 
well  fancy  the  discourse  that  was  often 
heard  around  the  camp-fires  of  New 
England  regiments  or  in  blockhouses 
on  the  frontiers  of  Virginia.  But  the 
colonies  had  so  far  shown  no  capacity 
for  united  effort,  and  without  co-opera- 
tion, and  perhaps  even  with  it,  Mont- 
calm, with  his  veterans  and  his  mobile 
Canadians  would  have  swept  the  coun- 
try from  end  to  end.  At  any  rate,  the 
refusal  to  find  shelter  for  their  defend- 
ers was  singularly  churlish.  Philadel- 
phia hastened  with  joy  to  make  the 
dispute  another  cause  of  wrangle  with 
their  much-harried  Governor,  Hamil- 
ton, whose  duty  it  was  to  assist  Lou- 
don in  finding  quarters  for  His  Majes- 
ty's troops.  Philadelphia,  however, 
was  finally  settled  very  much  after  the 
fashion  of  New  York.  Another  cause 
of  annoyance  at  this  time  was  the  per- 
sistence with  which  provisions  of  all 
sorts  were  secretly  sold  to  Canada.  In 
this  the  Dutch  of  the  Upper  Hudson 
were  the  worst  offenders.  The  greed 
of  their  traders  had  been  a  fruitful 
source  of  trouble  with  the  friendly  In- 
dians, and  now  they  were  active  in 
supplying — though  by  no  means  alone 
in  doing  so — those  sinews  of  war 
which  Canada  needed  much  more  than 
arms  and  troops,  so  dismally  had  she 
failed  in  the  primary  objects  of  colonial 
enterprise. 

On  Loudon,  however,  falls  the  onus 
of  having  recommended  for  this  season 
the  Louisbourg  scheme.  It  was  not 
its  immediate  failure  which  redounds 
to  his  discredit  so  much  as  the  tactics 
which  left  the  northern  colonies  in  the 
gravest  peril,  and  the  western  frontiers 


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of  the  others  stUl  reeking  with  Indian 
ravage.  General  Webb,  with  Monroe, 
a  brave  Scotch  colonel,  under  him,  had 
been  left  with  three  or  four  thousand, 
for  the  most  part  raw  troops,  to  hold 
the  frontier  against  the  able  Montcalm 
and  the  whole  power  of  Canada,  while 
the  great  effort  of  the  year,  occupying 
a  powerful  army  and  a  powerful  fleet, 
spent  itself  on  the  shores  of  Nova  Sco- 
tia, and  never  even  saw  the  first  object 
of  its  attack.  The  important  conflict 
of  the  season  was  reserved  for  the 
remnant  Loudon  had  left  behind  him, 
and  resulted  in  inevitable  disaster. 
For  while  he  was  occupying  a  force  of 
nearly  ten  thousand  regular  troops  in 
sham  flghts,  and  cultivating  vegetables 
where  Halifax  now  spreads  its  streets 
and  wharves,  Fort  William  Henry  suc- 
cumbed to  Montcalm  under  circum- 
stances of  such  horror  that  its  capture 
has  rung  down  the  ages  in  reams  of 
prose  and  verse. 

Montcalm,  too,  in  Canada,  had  his 
winter  troubles.  His  officers,  for  one 
thing,  were  continually  falling  victims 
to  the  charms  of  the  Canadian  ladies, 
which  seem,  according  to  all  contem- 
porary accounts,  to  have  been  more 
adapted  for  husband  catching  than  for 
intellectual  edification.  What  chiefly 
annoyed  him  was  that  most  of  these 
girls  were  comparatively  dowerless,  a 
sufficiently  grievous  sin  in  the  eyes  of 
a  Frenchman  who  was  also  the  tem- 
porary father  of  a  large  military  family. 
Vaudreuil,  it  seems,  secretly  encour- 
aged these  matches,  not  merely  to 
spite  Montcalm,  but  with  an  eye  to 
possible  settlers  for  his  beloved  Cana- 
da. Gambling,  too,  was  a  passion 
with  the  wealthy  clique  who  lived  by 
plundering  the  country,  and  the  impe- 
cunious young  nobles  who  swarmed  in 
Montcalm's  French  regiments  took  to 
the  sport  like  ducks  to  water  in  the 
monotony  of  their  ice-bound  quarters 
at  Quebec  and  Montreal.  Balls,  din- 
ners, and  receptions,  though  on  a 
limited  scale,  and  attended  by  more  or 
less  the  same  circle  of  guests,  went 
merrily  on.  Montcalm  entertained 
freely,  to  the  detriment  of  his  already 
encumbered   estate  and  his    ten  chil- 


dren, not  so  much  from  inclination,  ap- 
parently, as  from  a  sense  of  duty.  In 
his  letters  to  his  wife  and  mother  he 
jokes  about  his  growing  debts,  and 
alludes  with  humorous  despair  to  the 
capture  by  British  ships  of  certain 
table  luxuries  consigned  to  him  by 
their  loving  hands.  Nor  did  the 
French  soldiers  and  the  Canadians 
outside  the  small  social  circles  of  the 
capital  coalesce  much  better  than  did 
the  British  regulars  with  their  colonial 
allies.  Indeed,  such  jealousies  were, 
aye  and  still  are,  inevitable,  though 
greatly  softened  and  modified  by  al- 
tered conditions.  No  intelligent  col- 
onist, or  Englishman  who  has  lived  in 
colonies,  would  regard  this  statement 
as  anything  but  a  familiar  truism.  The 
difficulty  of  the  home-staying,  or  even 
globe-trotting  Briton,  is  to  realize  the 
colonial's  point  of  view,  or  that  Eng- 
lishmen and  colonial-born  Englishmen, 
as  a  class,  are  apt  to  jar  upon  each 
till  time  and  intercourse  have  rubbed 
off  the  angles,  which,  by  the  way,  they 
sometimes  fail  to  do.  The  exuberant 
and  splendid  loyalty  of  our  colonies, 
at  this  moment  above  all,  obscures 
these  smaller  matters.  They  are  not 
questions  for  high  politics,  or  public 
speeches,  but  of  everyday  life.  One 
would  call  them  unimportant,  but  for 
the  fact  that  they  have  been  the  unsus- 
pected cause  of  much  that  is  not  un- 
important. How  much  greater,  then, 
in  most  respects,  must  have  been  the 
lack  of  sympathy  in  these  old  days  be- 
tween the  average  individual  of  either 
stock. 

As  the  spring  advanced,  Loudon  had 
concentrated  all  his  troops  at  New 
York  in  preparation  for  their  removal 
to  Halifax.  His  information  from 
England  had  been  scanty,  but  his  im- 
mediate business  was  to  get  to  Nova 
Scotia  and  there  await  the  reinforce- 
ments he  had  been  told  to  count  upon. 
But  if  his  home  news  had  been  vague, 
he  knew  of  a  certainty  that  three 
strong  French  squadrons,  with  Louis- 
bourg  as  their  ultimate  destination, 
were  already  on  the  coast,  while  he 
had  only  Admiral  Sir  Charles  Hardy, 
with  a  weak  squadron,  to  serve  as  es- 


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cort  to  his  own  transports.  In  brief, 
if  a  French  fleet  caught  him  in  the 
open  sea,  he  was  ruined.  Secrecy 
was  now  Loudon's  only  chance,  so  he 
laid  an  embargo  on  the  shipping  of  all 
colonial  ports,  with  a  view  to  prevent- 
ing news  of  his  movements  getting 
abroad.  This  movement  was  neces- 
sary, but  naturally  irritating.  He  then 
lingered  on,  hoping  for  tidings  of  Hol- 
borne's  fleet,  but  none  came.  To 
move  without  such  a  security  seemed, 
as  in  fact  it  was,  a  prodigious  risk. 
But  in  the  meanwhile  May  had  passed 
away  and  June  had  half  gone.  His 
sailors  were  freely  deserting  in  order 
to  join  privateers,  whose  profits  just 
now  were  proving  an  irresistible  temp- 
tation, and  he  made  a  curious  effort  to 
recover  some  of  these  deserters  by 
drawing  a  cordon  of  bayonets  round 
the  whole  town,  and  concentrating  to 
a  centre.  Loudon  and  the  admiral  at 
length  made  up  their  minds  they  must 
risk  both  their  men  and  their  ships, 
and  on  June  20th  they  sailed  out  of 
New  York  harbour.  Fortune,  how- 
ever, favoured  them,  the  French  never 
guessing  how  great  a  prize  lay  within 
their  grasp,  and  by  the  30th  of  the 
month  they  were  safe  in  Halifax,  and 
in  time  enough  to  receive  Holbome 
and  his  still  more  tardy  flotilla,  which 
arrived  on  July  9th. 

Loudon  had  now  some  eleven  thou- 
sand men,  nearly  all  regular  troops. 
He  was  greeted  by  the  news  that 
there  were  assembled  behind  the  for- 
midable ramparts  and  batteries  of 
Louisbourg  seven*  thousand  French 
soldiers,  two- thirds  of  whom  were 
regulars,  in  addition  ■  to  some  fifteen 
hundred  Indians;  while  in  the  almost 
land-locked  harbour  lay  twenty-two 
ships  of  the  line  and  three  frigates, 
carrying  nearly  fourteen  hundred  guns. 
Louisbourg  stood  alone  amid  the  fogs 
of  the  northern  seas,  upon  Cape 
Breton,  which,  as  I  have  said,  was  an 
almost  barren  island,  just  severed  by 
a  narrow  channel  from  the  unsettled 
regions  of  Nova  Scotia.  It  was  a 
great  naval  station,  however,  as  well 
as  an  important  town  for  the  period, 
and  was  of  vital  import  to  the  French. 


It  was  garrisoned  direct  from  France, 
and  was  practically  out  of  touch  with 
Montcalm  and  Canada.  Later  on  we 
shall  be  before  its  walls,  and  have 
much  to  say  about  it,  so  will  here  con- 
tent ourselves  with  remarking  that 
these  same  fortifications,  with  seven 
thousand  men  behind  them,  and  an 
overpowering  fleet  outside,  were  ad- 
judged by  Loudon  and  a  council  of 
war  to  be  impregnable  to  the  force  at 
their  disposal.  So  the  general,  after 
having  spent  six  weeks  at  Halifax,  re- 
embarked  on  August  16,  with  seven  of 
his  regular  battalions  and  his  provin- 
cials, and  sailed  for  New  York,  leaving 
the  27th,  28th,  43rd  and  46th  regi- 
ments to  garrison  Nova  Scotia. 

Those  that  he  took  back  with  him 
were  the  17th,  22nd,  42nd,  44th,  48th, 
55th,  and  two  battalions  of  the  newly 
raised  Royal  Americans.  Loudon,  in 
short,  performed  upon  the  ocean  a 
very  similar  manoeuvre  to  that  execut- 
ed, according  to  the  familiar  rhyme, 
by  the  *' noble  Duke  of  York  "  upon 
the  hill.  He  carried  his  force,  that  is 
to  say,  to  Nova  Scotia,  and  brought  it 
back  again  without  even  firing  a  shot 
or  seeing  an  enemy.  The  French  fleet, 
by  its  promptness  in  crossing  the 
Atlantic,  had  saved  the  situation;  while 
the  British  Government,  by  its  dilatori- 
ness,  due  in  part  to  weather,  had  been 
the  chief  sinner.  Loudon,  though 
devoid  of  genius,  can  hardly  be  blamed 
for  this  fiasco.  His  crime  was  rather 
in  initiating  an  expedition  which  strip- 
ped the  colonies  of  their  chief  military 
strength  and  left  vital  points  exposed. 
He  received  his  punishment  before  he 
reached  New  York,  for  while  still  on 
the  sea  news  was  brought  out  to  him 
that  Fort  William  Henry  had  fallen. 
Great  ridicule  has  been  cast  on  Loudon 
for  his  Louisbourg  failure.  A  colonial 
wag  had  already  likened  him  to  the 
figure  of  St.  George  upon  a  tavern 
sign — always  in  a  hurry,  but  never 
getting  forward.  He  had  certainly  no 
genius  for  war,  and  was  a  depressing, 
unenterprising  person,  but  neither  the 
delay  at  New  York  nor  at  Halifax  was 
his  fault.  At  the  latter  place,  in  order 
to   occupy   the   large   body  of  troops 


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there  collected,  he  exercised  them  con- 
tinually in  drills  and  sham  fights — 
an  admirable  method,  one  might  well 
suppose,  for  improving  their  discipline 
and  keeping  them  away  from  rum  and 
out  of  mischief.  He  also  occupied 
them  in  the  planting  of  vegetables, 
with  a  view  more  especially  to  the 
prospective  sick  and  wounded;  and 
seeing  that  the  lack  of  these  very 
things  was  a  common  cause  ot  scurvy 
and  an  indirect  one  of  drunkenness,  it 
is  not  easy  to  understand  the  jibes  and 
taunts  cast  in  Loudon's  teeth  for 
employing  the  leisure  of  his  none  too 
well  disciplined  army  in  these  useful 
and  profitable  pursuits.  General  Hop- 
son,  who  brought  out  the  division  from 
England,  was  second  in  command  to 
Loudon  at  this  time.  Lord  Charles 
Hay  was  third,  the  same  officer  who 
made  the  famous  request  at  Fontenoy 
that  the  French  Guards  should  fire 
first.  He  must  have  possessed  some 
vein  of  eccentricity,  for  he  made  him- 
self so  conspicuous  for  open  ridicule  of 
Loudon*s  ''sham  fights  and  cabbage 
planting*' — in  which  he  declared  the  na- 
tion's money  was  squandered — that  he 
was  placed  under  arrest,  but  died  be- 
fore his  trial.  With  this  same  division, 
too,  there  came  to  America  another 
titled  officer  whose  character  was  also 
out  of  the  common  run,  though  of  a 
loftier  and  very  different  type,  and,  in 
like  manner,  was  doomed  to  an  early 
death.  This  was  the  young  Lord 
Howe,  of  whom  we  shall  hear  anon. 

Nor  was  it  only  failure  in  a  military 
sense  that  marked  this  Nova  Scotia 
enterprise,  but  the  naval  force  engag- 
ed in  it  met  with  something  more  than 
failure,  though,  like  the  army,  it  ex- 
changed no  shot  with  the  enemy.  For 
Holborne,  being  reinforced  on  the  de- 
parture of  Loudon,  sailed  up  to  Louis- 
bourg  and  challenged  the  French  fieet 
to  come  out  and  fight  him.  La  Motte, 
the  admiral,  felt  no  call  to  take  such 
unprofitable  risks,  nor  was  it  his  duty. 
So  Holborne,  like  Loudon,  proceeded 
to  sail  home  again.  But  he  was  not 
so  fortunate  as  the  general,  for  a  hur- 
ricane struck  him  off  that  iron-bound 
and  desolate  coast  and  drove  him  with 


irresistible  fury  against  its  cruel,  surf- 
lashed  headlands.  One  ship,  with 
nearly  all  its  crew,  foundered  on  the 
rocks;  the  rest  were  saved  within  an 
ace  of  destruction  by  a  timely  chang^e 
of  wind.  Eleven  lost  all  their  masts, 
others  all  their  cannon;  and  the  crip- 
ples found  their  way  eventually,  as  best 
they  could,  into  the  various  North 
American  harbours,  La  Motte,  happily 
for  them,  remaining  in  ignorance  of 
their  plight. 

When  Montcalm  discovered  that 
Loudon  was  really  withdrawing  the 
larger  and  the  better  part  of  his  army 
from  the  continent,  his  joy  was  hardly 
greater  than  his  surprise,  for  he  could 
now  strike  with  his  whole  forces  at  the 
feeble  garrisons  on  the  New  York 
frontier.  He  recognized,  of  course, 
that  an  attack  on  Quebec  was  the 
ultimate  intention  of  the  Louisbourg- 
force,  but  Louisbourg  was  not  an 
Oswego  or  a  William  Henry — it  ivas 
an  embattled  town  of  the  first  class, 
strongly  garrisoned;  and  no  enemy 
would  dare  to  move  up  the  St.  Lainr- 
rence  and  leave  it  uncaptured  in  his 
rear.  If  Quebec  should,  perad venture, 
be  threatened  in  the  autumn  Montcalm 
could  fall  back  to  Lake  Champlain  in 
ample  time  for  its  protection.  He 
might,  indeed,  have  been  pardoned  for 
deeming  it  more  probable  that  he  and 
his  Frenchmen  would  be  descending^ 
the  Hudson  on  New  York  enriched 
with  the  plunder  of  Albany.  But 
Montcalm,  too,  like  Loudon,  had  to 
eat  his  heart^out  waiting  for  an  Atlan- 
tic fleet,  it  was  not  men,  however, 
that  the  French  commander  waited  for, 
but  stores  and  provisions,  whose  scarc- 
ity was  the  perennial  curse  of  Cana- 
dian military  enterprise.  Nor  was  it 
in  this  case  lack  of  human  foresight  or 
a  prevalence  of  western  winds  that 
kept  Montcalm  impotently  chafing  till 
the  close  of  spring,  but  the  inevitable 
ice-floes  that  impede  navigation  on  the 
St.  Lawrence.  Throughout  the  whole 
winter  Indians  had  been  gathering-  at 
Montreal  from  all  parts  of  the  west 
and  northwest,  eating  French  bul- 
locks and  drinking  French  brandy 
till    their   hosts  —  especially  the  reg-- 


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ular    officers    among  them  —  serious- 
ly doubted  if  their   tomahawks  were 
worth  the  price  in  money  and  annoy- 
ance    paid     for     them.     Unlike    the 
semi-civilized  and   so<called  Christian 
Indians  of  the  east,  these  others  were 
all  heathens,  all  cannibals,  all  naked, 
and  armed  only  with  bow  and  arrow; 
though,  for  that  matter,  in  the  days  of 
muzzle-loaders  used  at  short  ranges  in 
the    forest,    the    silent,    rapidly   fired 
arrow  was  not  to  be   despised.     The 
story   of    Oswego    and   the    fame   of 
Montcalm  had  spread  to  the  farthest 
west.     The  painted  and   be-feathered 
orators  from  the  shores  of  Lake  Super- 
ior and  the  prairies  of  the  Illinois  pro- 
fessed surprise  at  the  pale-faced  hero's 
scanty  inches.     They  expected  to  find 
the  head  of  so  great  a  warrior  buried 
in   the   clouds,  but    with  true    Indian 
breeding  they  hastened  to  declare  that 
his  stature  was  quite  atoned  for  by  the 
lightning  of  his  eye.     Montcalm  was 
terribly  bored  by  the  endless  ceremon- 
ies necessary   for   retaining    their  re- 
gard.    He   had    no   natural  turn   for 
Indian   diplomacy,    like  Johnson,  but 
endured  it  from  a  sense  of  duty  with 
heroic  fortitude,  and  proved,  in  fact,  a 
remarkable  success.  Bougainville  took 
some  of  the    physical  labour   off  his 
hands,  and  humorously  relates  how  he 
sung  the  war  song  in  solo  fashion  for 
an  indefinite  period,  repeating  in  end- 
less monotone  that  he  would  *'  trample 
the  English  under  his  feet."     The  Mis- 
sion Indians,  too,  under  the  influence 
of  their  priests,  were  gathering  in  full 
strength.     The  orgies  of  these  so-call- 
ed Christians  were  as  wild  as  if  they 
had  never  so  much  as  set  eyes  upon 
the  cross.     They  went  clad,  it  is  true, 
but  they  dyed  their  clothes  instead  of 
their  naked   bodies,  while  their  faces 
grinned  hideously  through  thick  layers 
of  red  and   yellow  and  green   paint, 
smeared  on  with  grease  and  soot.    All 
alike  wore    the   tufted  scalp-lock   on 
their  shaven  heads,  decorated  with  nod- 
ding plumes  of  feathers;  while  heavy 
rings  dragged  their  ears  down  on  to 
their  shoulders.     A  gorget    encircled 
their  neck,  and  a  profusely  ornamented 
belt  their  waist,  whence  hung  the  toma- 


hawk and  the  scalping  knife.  The 
chief  entertainment  at  their  feasts  may 
be  described  as  boasting  competitions, 
in  which  one  performer  at  a  time, 
striding  up  and  down  the  line  with  a 
gory  bullock's  head  in  his  hand, 
exhausted  the  whole  Indian  vocabu- 
lary in  describing  the  feats  of  valour 
he  had  performed,  and  would  perform 
again.  It  is  probable  that  the  boast- 
ful language  of  the  Canadians,  which 
so  much  amused  the  French  officers, 
was  a  sort  of  unconscious  imitation  of 
the  Indian  habit.  Indeed,  its  influ- 
ence was  not  confined  to  Canada,  but 
coloured  the  eloquence  of  the  Alle- 
ghany borderer  for  several  genera- 
tions, and  perhaps  is  not  yet  dead! 

The  store-ships  arrived  in  due  course 
from  France,  but  it  was  the  middle  of 
July  before  Montcalm  had  collected  all 
his  forces,  Indians,  regulars  and  Ca- 
nadians, amounting  to  nearly  8,000 
men,  at  Fort  Carillon,  better  known 
in  history  as  Ticonderoga.  Prepara- 
tions for  the  coming  attack  on  Fort 
William  Henry  and  the  British  frontier 
had  been  proceeding  here  this  long 
time,  and  the  scene,  in  this  romantic 
solitude  of  lake,  mountain,  and  forest, 
was  a  busy  one.  Since  the  melting  of 
the  ice  in  April,  Lake  Champlain  had 
been  alive  with  fleets  of  boats  and 
bateaux  and  canoes,  carrying  men 
and  material  of  all  sorts  to  the  nar- 
rows down  which  the  waters  of  Lake 
George  came  leaping  in  a  succession 
of  shallow  rapids.  This  channel  was 
some  six  miles  in  length,  a  mile  only 
at  either  end  being  navigable.  The 
rapid  portion  of  the  river  took  a  wide 
bend,  and  a  road  was  cut  through  the 
woods  in  a  straight  line  from  the  deep 
water  which  flowed  into  Lake  Cham- 
plain  at  one  end,  to  that  which  gave 
access  to  Lake  George  upon  the  other. 
Across  this  rough  three-mile  portage 
the  entire  material,  boats  included,  for 
the  operation  on  the  upper  lake,  had 
to  be  laboriously  carried. 

By  the  end  of  July  everything  was 
complete,  and  the  whole  flotilla  was 
launched  upon  Lake  George  ready  for 
a  start.  Unwary  scouting  parties 
from  the  English  forts  had   been  al- 


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ready  captured.  Scalps  and  prisoners 
had  stimulated  the  zeal  of  the  Indians, 
among  whom  no  less  than  forty  differ- 
ent tribes  were  represented.  From 
the  far  regions  of  Michillimackinak 
and  the  still  remoter  shores  of  Lake 
Superior  ;  from  the  oak  and  chestnut 
forests  beyond  Lake  Erie,  where  the 
finest  farms  of  the  fattest  province  of 
Canada  now  thrive  among  a  network 
of  railways ;  from  the  deep  prairie 
lands  of  Michigan  and  Illinois  came 
bands  of  howling  and  painted  pagans 
to  "  trample  the  English  under  their 
feet,"  to  drink  their  rum,  plunder  their 
settlements,  and  hang  their  scalps 
around  their  belts,  or  nail  them  on 
their  wigwam  posts.  Independent 
bands,  too,  from  the  neighbouring  and 
professedly  neutral  Six  Nations  were 
there,  and  even  from  the  harried  bor- 
ders of  Pennsylvania  and  Virginia 
some  warriors,  red  to  the  shoulder  in 
British  blood,  came  to  seek  fresh  fields 
of  spoil.  To  mention  Hurons,  Ojib- 
ways  and  Ottawas,  lowas,  Wineba- 
goes  and  Algonquins  would  be  naming 
but  a  few  of  them,  while  the  Abenakis, 
Micmacs,  and  the  Mission  Indians 
were  there  to  the  full  limit  of  their 
fighting  strength. 

On  the  shores  of  Lake  George,  how- 
ever, before  the  final  departure,  Mont- 
calm had  to  submit  to  one  more  solemn 
function,  and  address,  with  simulated 
passion,  the  mass  of  hideous  and 
painted  humanity  that  he  was  obliged 
to  call  his  children ;  and,  after  all,  if 
he  had  but  known  it,  he  had  far  better, 
upon  this  occasion,  have  been  without 
a  single  man  of  them.  He  explained 
to  them  his  plans,  which  was  only 
reasonable,  and  then  launched  out  into 
those  astoundingly  mendacious  periods 
which,  according  to  the  code  of  the 
time,  were  looked  upon  as  entirely 
venial.  He  said  how  pleased  he  was 
to  see  them — which  in  a  sense  was 
true  enough — and  then  proceeded  to 
inform  them  how  he  and  his  soldiers 
had  been  especially  sent  by  the  great 
king,  Onantio,  to  protect  and  defend 
them  against  the  English.  When  his 
voice  gave  out  and  his  stock  of  back- 
woods   rhetoric    was    exhausted,    he 


presented  his  savage  allies  with  an 
enormous  belt  of  wampum,  and  pos- 
sessed his  soul  in  patience  while  their 
chiefs  replied  in  high-flown  and  am- 
biguous metaphor,  amid  the  solemn 
gruntings  of  the  gaudy  assemblage. 
Another  whole  day  was  consumed  by 
the  savages  in  propitiating  their  several 
deities,  the  Mission  Indians  going  in 
whole  bodies  to  confession,  the  uncon- 
verted warriors  hanging  dead  dogs 
and  old  leggings  on.  trees  and  '*  mak- 
ing medicine,"  according  to  each  man's 
special  fancy.  The  last  day  of  July 
saw  the  surface  of  Lake  George  ruffled 
by  the  splash  of  thousands  of  oar-blades 
and  hundreds  of  Indian  paddles.  Two 
hundred  and  fifty  boats  were  there, 
carrying  five  thousand  men,  and 
swarms  of  savages  in  bark  canoes 
glided  in  the  van.  The  cream  of 
French  Canadian  chivalry  was  here, 
and  famous  regiments  from  old  France, 
with  officers  and  men  now  hardened  by 
American  campaigning,  flushed  with 
former  victory,  and  conscious  many  of 
them,  that  war  here  meant  something 
more  than  a  great  and  bloody  game. 
The  battalions  of  La  Sarre,  Guienne 
and  Languedoc,  La  Reine,  Bearne  and 
Royal  Roussillon  were  all  with  Mont- 
calm, and  only  as  yet  in  the  second  of 
those  five  years  of  war  and  hardship 
which  were  to  close,  for  them,  at  least, 
in  a  defeat  only  less  glorious  than  vic- 
tory. Provisions  for  some  weeks  had 
been  shipped ;  and  heavy  siege  guns, 
mounted  on  platforms  slung  between 
boats  lashed  together,  brought  up  the 
rear  of  this  motley  armament.  Mont* 
calm  had  not  boat  accommodation  for 
his  whole  army.  So  L^vis,  with 
Indian  guides  and  twenty-five  hundred 
men,  was  detailed  to  push  his  way,  as 
best  he  could,  through  the  trackless 
forest  that  overhung  the  western 
shores  of  the  Lake.  At  a  spot  some 
twenty  miles  on,  and  eight  short  of 
Fort  William  Henry,  he  was  to  dis- 
play three  fires  as  a  signal  of  his 
whereabouts.  The  movement  was 
successful,  the  British  scouts  having 
been  all  killed  or  captured,  and  it  was 
not  till  Montcalm's  whole  force,  by  land 
and   water,    had    arrived  within    two 


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miles  of  the  English  fort  that  their 
approach  was  discovered. 

Nearly  all  the  available  force  for  re- 
sisting the  French  lay  in  the  two  forts 
at  either  end  of  the  fourteen* mile 
carrying-place y  between  the  lake  and 
the  Hudson  river.  General  Webb, 
now  commanding  in  America,  was  in 
Fort  Edward  at  the  latter  point ;  while 
Colonel  Monroe  was  in  charge  of  Fort 
William  Henry,  where  there  were  some 
two  thousand  five  hundred  men  of 
various  corps,  namely*  six  hundred  of 
the  35th,  eight  hundred  of  a  Massa- 
chusetts regiment,  with  some  rangers, 
and  five  hundred  militia  from  the 
Jerseys  and  New  York.  Webb  on 
this  very  day,  the  second  of  August, 
had  reinforced  Monroe  to  the  limit  of 
his  ability,  having  no  more  than  six- 
teen hundred  indifferent  troops  now 
left  with  him,  and  a  weak  garrison  or 
two  on  the  river  route  to  Albany. 
Fort  Edward,  too,  might  be  attacked 
simultaneously  with  William  Henry, 
and  that  by  another  route,  namely,  the 
long  stretch  of  water  running  from 
Champlain  southwards  and  parallel  to 
Lpake  George,  known  as  Wood  Creek. 

Fort  William  Henry  lay  close  upon 
the  shore  of  Lake  George.  It  was 
square  in  shape,  with  corner  bastions, 
and  walls  of  hewn  logs  laid  as  cribs 
and  filled  in  with  heavy  gravel,  impreg- 
nable to  rifle  fire  or  small  artillery,  but 
a  poor  defence  against  heavy  cannon. 
There  was  not  room  for  the  whole 
force  within  the  fort,  and  a  great  part 
of  the  provincial  troops  were  intrench- 
ed on  some  rising  ground  six  hundred 
yards  away  with  marshes  upon  either 
side.  Montcalm  was  able  at  once  to 
cut  off  the  whole  position  from  either 
retreat  or  succour,  by  sending  de 
L6vis  round  behind  it  with  three 
thousand  men  to  occupy  the  road  and 
only  route  to  Fort  Edward,  where  a 
famous  partizan  leader,  La  Come,  with 
a  portion  of  the  Indians,  soon  after 
joined  him.  Montcalm  now  proceeded 
to  examine  the  fort,  and  came  to  the 
conclusion  it  was  impregnable  to 
ordinary  assault.  He  prepared,  there- 
fore, to  reduce  it  by  regular  siege,  an 
apparently  easy  matter  with  his  heavy 


guns  and  large  forces,  which  numbered 
in  all  something  like  eight  thousand 
men.  As  a  preliminary,  however,  he 
sent  the  faithful  Bougainville  to  offer 
Monroe  terms  for  surrender.  He 
pointed  out  that  help  was  impossible, 
which  was  quite  true  ;  that  his  .own 
numbers  were  overpowering  and  his 
guns  to  match  ;  above  all,  that  a  large 
part  of  his  Indians  had  come  from  the 
wild  west,  and  that  when  the  surrender 
came — which  was  inevitable  within  a 
few  days — and  blood  had  been  shed, 
he  might  be  unable  to  restrain  their 
diabolical  ferocity.  Monroe  briefly  re- 
plied that  it  was  his  duty  to  hold  the 
fort,  and  he  should  do  his  utmost  to 
maintain  himself.  Montcalm  then 
opened  his  lines  across  the  south- 
western corner  of  the  lake  at  a  range 
of  600  yards.  Hundreds  of  men  work- 
ed in  the  trenches  night  and  day  under 
a  fire  from  the  fort  that,  after  the  first 
few  hours,  could  do  them  but  little 
damage.  The  Indians  proved  refrac- 
tory and  of  little  use.  Montcalm 
wanted  them  to  scout  southwards  to- 
wards Fort  Edward  and  the  Hudson, 
but  they  were  sore  at  heart  because 
they  had  not  been  consulted  as  to  the 
operations,  and  the  greater  part  of 
them  hung  about  behind  the  lines,  or 
lolled  in  their  canoes  or  fired  futile 
shots  at  the  fort.  Monroe,  in  the 
meantime,  was  sending  eager  mes- 
sages to  Webb  for  help,  and  Webb  has 
been  blamed  for  not  responding.  His 
previous  record  has,  perhaps,  made 
his  critics  unfair.  He  could  not  help 
Monroe,  for  his  weak  force  alone 
barred  the  way  to  Albany,  and  to 
detach  a  portion  of  it  would  have  been 
to  sacrifice  that  portion  either  to  the 
strong  forces  of  de  L^vfs  in  the  woods, 
or  at  the  almost  inevitable  surrender 
of  Fort  William  Henry. 

In  three  days  the  best  of  Montcalm*s 
forty  guns  were  in  position,  and  in 
two  more  were  advanced  to  within  200 
yards  of  the  fort,  whose  ramparts 
were  flying  in  fragments  before  their 
fierce  discharges.  Two  sorties  were 
tried,  both  from  the  fort  and  the  in- 
trenched camp  beyond,  but  were  easily 
repulsed.     Webb     might    have    done 


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something  in  this  way,  but  messengers 
could  no  longer  get  through  to  Fort 
Edward  and  arrange  for  simultaneous 
action.  Smallpox,  too,  had  broken 
out  in  the  garrison,  and  was  spreading 
rapidly.  Monroe  seems  to  have  had 
some  vague  hope  that  provisions,  the 
chronic  difficulty  with  all  French 
Canadian  armies,  might  fail  the  be- 
siegers, for  in  that  wilderness  every 
ounce  of  food  had  to  be  carried.  But 
Montcalm  had  this  time  made  special 
efforts,  and,  moreover,  had  the  good 
luck  to  capture  150  head  of  cattle 
belonging  to  the  garrison. 

Bougainville  was  again  sent  to  pro- 
pose terms,  and  conducted  .blindfold 
into  the  fort,  but  again  the  brave 
Monroe,  though  he  was  shown  an 
intercepted  letter  to  himself  from  Webb 
to  the  effect  that  assistance  was  hope- 
less, refused  to  treat.  Another  twenty- 
four  hours,  however,  saw  such  warm 
work  that  a  council  of  war  was  called, 
and  the  white  flag  was  at  length  raised 
upon  the  walls. 

For  the  whole  French  artillery  was 
now  intrenched  at  close  range.  Many 
of  the  English  guns  had  burst,  and 
only  about  half  a  dozen  were  fit  for 
service,  while  their  ammunition  was 
nearly  exhausted  ;  so  Colonel  Young, 
commanding  a  detachment  of  Royal 
Americans,  or  60th,  then  newly  raised, 
was  sent  to  arrange  terms  of  capitula- 
tion. 

The  garrison  were  at  Montcalm's 
mercy  ;  they  had  no  alternatives  but 
death  or  surrender,  and  there  were 
many  women  among  them.  It  was 
agreed  that  the  troops  should  march 
out  with  the  honours  of  war,  all  ranks 
retaining  their  personal  effects.  Every- 
thing else  in  the  fort  was  to  be  given 
up.  Prisoners  of  war  in  actual  fact 
they  could  not  be,  for  food  was  much 
too  scarce  in  Canada  for  Montcalm  to 
indulge  in  such  luxuries  ;  indeed,  the 
people  themselves  were,  at  that  very 
moment,  on  something  like  half  rations. 
The  British  were  to  be  escorted  to 
Fort  Edward,  and  remain  on  parole 
till  an  equal  number  of  French  prison- 
ers should  be  delivered  safely  at 
Ticonderoga,  each  batch  of  the  latter 


as  they  came  in  setting  free  from  their 
obligations  an  equivalent  number  of 
the  British.  In  recognition  of  the 
bravery  of  the  defence,  the  garrison 
were  to  take  with  them  a  single  gun, 
a  six- pounder.  The  loss  had  been 
inconsiderable — some  hundred  and 
twenty  men  on  the  British  and  half  as 
many  on  the  French  side.  It  was  un- 
derstood, however,  that  these  articles 
could  not  be  signed  until  the  savages 
had  given  their  consent.  This,  how- 
ever, they  were  induced  to  do,  and 
both  sides  proceeded  forthwith  to  put 
them  into  execution. 

The  fort  was  evacuated  at  mid-day 
on  the  9th,  when  the  garrison,  together 
with  the  women  and  children,  march- 
ed out  to  the  intrenched  camp,  which 
was,  of  course,  included  in  the  surren- 
der, a  French  regiment  being  detailed 
to  secure  them  against  interference  on 
the  part  of  the  Indians.  De  Bourla- 
maque,  entering  the  fort  with  a  party  of 
regulars,  set  a  guard  over  the  ammuni- 
tion and  stores.  Everything  else  was 
abandoned  to  the  Indians,  who  gave 
an  earnest  of  what  was  coming  by  in- 
stantly murdering  a  dozen  or  more  sick 
men,  who  had  been  left  according  to 
the  articles  of  agreement  in  Montcalm's 
charge.  There  was  not  much  plunder 
in  the  fort  itself,  so  the  intrenched 
camp,  where  all  the  British  were  hud- 
dled without  arms  save  the  bayonets 
of  the  35th,  soon  swarmed  with  blood- 
thirsty demons,  baulked  of  what  they 
regarded  as  their  lawful  prey,  and  with 
hands  twitching  viciously  at  their 
tomahawks.  Numbers  of  Canadians, 
whose  morals  in  warfare  were  little 
higher  than  those  of  the  savages,  min- 
gled with  the  now  excited  throng,  and 
showed  unmistakable  sympathy  with 
its  temper.  There  was  great  confusion 
throughout  the  whole  afternoon,  the 
Indians  jostling  and  insulting  the  pris- 
oners, and  making  attempts  from 
time  to  time  to  wrest  their  personal 
l>^gg£Lgfe  out  of  their  hands.  The 
liquor  was  either  under  guard  or  de- 
stroyed, else  no  efforts  of  Montcalm 
and  his  officers,  which  individually 
were  considerable,  could  have  prevent- 
ed a  general  massacre  before  night. 


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But  these  efforts  of  the  French  officers, 
though  sincere  enough,  were  not  inte]- 
ligently  directed,  nor  were  they  back- 
ed at  the  right  moment  by  proper 
force.  The  whole  business,  in  fact, 
was  grossly  mismanaged.  Canadian 
militia  were  stationed  at  some  points 
as  a  protection  to  the  prisoners,  though 
the  Canadian  militiaman  looked  on 
plunder  or  scalps  as  the  rightful  price 
to  pay  for  Indian  assistance,  and  was 
by  no  means  averse  to  taking  a  hand 
in  it  himself.  The  restraint  which 
Montcalm  had  exercised  over  the  In- 
dians at  the  capture  of  Oswego  in  the 
preceding  year  was  regarded  by  all 
Canadians,  from  the  Governor  down- 
wards, as  a  pernicious  European  pre- 
judice. Mercy  and  pity  had  no  place 
in  backwoods  warfare,  and  it  is  only 
fair  to  say  that  the  New  England 
rangers  often  paid  the  savage  and  the 
Canadian  back  in  their  own  coin.  But 
the  responsibility  on  Montcalm  was 
very  ^reat,  and  his  failure  to  estimate 
its  gravity  is  a  lasting  stain  on  his 
memory.  Bougainville  writes  that  his 
chief  himself  used  every  effort  and 
made  urgent  appeals  to  the  Canadian 
officers  who  had  personal  influence 
with  the  savages  to  avert  the  threat- 
ened catastrophe.  It  would  have 
been  far  better  if  he  had  promptly  call- 
ed up  his  3,000  French  troops  with  fix- 
ed bayonets,  who  would  have  over- 
awed with  ease  any  attempted  out- 
break of  the  Indians.  On  this  means 
of  protection,  however,  he  drew  most 
slenderly,  and  seems  to  have  content- 
ed himself  with  appeals  to  Canadians 
and  interpreters,  many  of  whom  would 
have  been  inclined  to  look  on  a  general 
massacre  as  something  rather  of  a 
diversion  than  otherwise. 

The  afternoon  and  night  of  the  9th 
were  passed  anxiously  enough  by  the 
two  thousand  British  of  all  ranks,  be- 
sides the  women  and  children,  within 
the  intrenchment.  They  were  to 
march  in  the  morning,  and  as  soon  as 
the  escort  of  300  regulars,  an  absurdly 
weak  one,  seeing  the  temper  of  the 
savages,  should  arrive.  Seventeen 
wounded  men  lying  in  a  hut  under  care 
of  a  surgeon   were  the  first  victims. 


The  Indians  brushing  aside  the  sentries, 
dragged  the  wretched  men  from  their 
beds,  and  butchered  them  within  a  few 
yards  of  a  group  of  Canadian  officers, 
who  did  not  trouble  even  to  remon- 
strate. As  the  defenceless  column  of 
prisoners  began  to  move,  the  savages 
fell  to  indiscriminate  plundering.  The 
men  strenuously  resisted  this  attempt  to 
rob  them  of  their  personal  effects. 
Monroe  protested  loudly  that  the  terms 
of  the  capitulation  were  broken  and 
appealed  to  the  French  officers  of  the 
escort  Which  was  drawn  up  close  by. 
The  latter  seem  to  have  been  cowed  by 
the  turmoil  around  them,  and  had  not 
even  the  presence  of  mind  to  send  for 
support  to  the  army  which  lay  a  few 
hundred  yards  off.  Ail  they  did  was 
to  urge  the  British  to  give  up  their 
property  for  the  sake  of  peace,  and  to 
get  away  as  fast  as  possible.  Many 
indignantly  refused  this  mean  advice. 
Others  followed  it,  and  a  certain 
amount  of  rum  from  private  canteens 
thus  found  its  way  down  the  throats 
of  the  yelling  savages  and  made  them 
still  more  uncontrollable.  No  sooner 
had  the  column  got  clear  of  the  in- 
trenchments,  and  started  upon  the 
forest  road  to  Fort  Edward,  than  all 
restraint  was  thrown  off,  and  the 
Indians  fell  upon  the  rear,  stripping 
both  men  and  officers  to  their  very 
shirts,  and  instantly  tomahawking 
those  who  showed  resistance.  The 
war  whoop  was  now  raised — by  the 
pet  converts  of  the  Canadian  priest- 
hood from  Penobscot  it  is  said — when 
the  rear  of  the  column,  rushing  for- 
ward upon  those  in  front,  a  scene  of 
horror  ensued  that  has  been  described 
by  many  pens.  Women  and  children 
were  dragged  from  the  crowd  ;  some 
were  tomaJiawked,  others  carried  off 
as  prisoners  to  the  woods.  Their 
shrieks  and  cries,  mingled  with  the 
hideous  yells  of  the  Indians  and  the 
shouts  and  curses  of  the  impotent 
British,  made  an  unforgetable  scene. 
Montcalm  and  the  French  officers 
threw  themselves  among  the  savages 
now  half  drunk  with  rum  or  blood, 
and  did  all  that  men  armed  only  with 
authority  and  not  backed  by  force,  as 


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they  should  have  been,  could  do. 
The  small  French  escort  in  the  mean- 
time looked  on  helplessly,  the  crowd  of 
Canadians  approvingly,  as  the  scene 
of  blood  and  plunder  and  outrage  con- 
tinued. 

At  length  the  exertions  of  Montcalm 
and  L6vis,  Bourlamaque  and  other 
French  officers,  had  some  effect ;  but 
it  was  only  by  promising  payment  for 
the  captives  seized  by  the  Indians  that 
some  sort  of  order  was  restored.  The 
precise  number  of  both  sexes  thus 
butchered  under  the  eyes  of  the  French, 
while  unarmed,  captives  of  war,  is  a 
matter  of  dispute.  L6vis  counted  fifty 
corpses  on  the  field,  while  sick  and 
wounded  men  to  half  that  number  had 
been  murdered  in  their  beds,  and  num- 
bers more  dragged  off  into  the  woods. 
It  seems  probable  that  a  hundred  would 
be  a  fair  estimate  of  those  slain. 

Over  six  hundred  were  made  cap- 
tives by  the  savages,  and  it  required 
the  utmost  exertions  on  Montcalm's 
part,  with  a  considerable  outlay  of 
money,  to  recover  about  half  of  them. 
The  Indians  would  not  give  up  the 
remainder  on  any  terms,  and  eventually 
took  them  to  Montreal,  where  Vaud- 
reuil,  who,  in  his  character  of  Cana- 
dian, looked  with  much  toleration  on 
Indian  outrage,  had  to  pay  for  the 
amusement  this  time  with  large  sums 
out  of  his  scant  treasury  by  way  of 
ransom. 

There  is  absolutely  nothing  to  be 
said  in  defence  of  the  French  in  this 
affair.  That  they  did  not  dare  to  run 
the  risk  of  offending  and  alienating 
their  Indians  is,  of  course,  the  explana- 
tion, though  surely  no  extenuation  of 
such  ignoble  conduct.  It  is  one  of  the 
worst  stains  upon  the  annals  of  their 
arms  in  America.  They  would  have 
been  bound  by  humanity  only  in  the 
storming  of  a  fort,  but  after  a  formal 
capitulation,  they  were  bound  not 
merely  by  humanity,  but  by  the  most 
elementary  rule  of  military  honour,  and 
it  is  satisfactory  to  think,  that  they 
paid  dearly  for  it.  The  British  Gov- 
ernment, as  a  matter  of  course, 
repudiated  their  part  of  the  contract. 


and  not  a  French  prisoner  was  sent  to 
Montreal,  nor  was  the  parole  of  the 
garrison  taken  any  account  of.  The 
memory  of  the  massacre  drove  many 
a  bayonet  home  in  the  coming  years 
of  British  success  that  might  otherwise 
have  been  stayed  in  mercy,  and  many 
a  Canadian  sued  in  vain  for  his  life  at 
the  hands  of  the  New  England  Ranger 
who  might  formerly  have  been  spared. 
Remember  Fort  William  Henry  became 
a  terrible,  war  cry  in  many  a  battle  and 
in  many  a  bloody  backwoods  skirmish. 
The  French  knew  it  well  and  felt  that 
it  added  a  fresh  terror  to  defeat.  The 
first  impulse  of  a  disarmed  or  captured 
Canadian  was  to  protest  by  voice  and 
gesture  that  he  had  not  been  present 
at  that  accursed  scene. 

The   growing    scarcity    of   food   in 
Canada  saved  the  forts  on  the  Hudson 
and,  probably,  the  flourishing  town  of 
Albany  itself,  from  being  captured  and 
sacked   by  the  French.       Word    was 
sent  that  it  was  of  the  first  necessity, 
that  the  now  ripening  harvest  should 
be  gathered,  and  there  were  not  men 
to  do  it.      So  the  French  turned  their 
attention    to   the    destruction    of    the 
British   forts    and    all    its   dependent 
buildings.     Great  bonfires  were  made 
of  the  logs  forming  the  ramparts,  and 
into  them  were  cast  those  bodies  of  the 
dead  which  had  not  been  buried.      As 
a  fortress  the  place  ceased  to   exist. 
Great   armaments,   some  of  them    as 
luckless  as  the  garrison  of  1757,  were 
yet  to  camp  on  its  ashes,  and  again  to 
break  the  silence  of  the  forests  with 
the  din  of  war.     But  for  the  present 
solitude  reigned  over  the  devoted  spot; 
the   sounds   of  human  life  gave  way 
once  more  to  the  weird  cry  of  the  loon 
and   the  splash  of  the    summer-duck 
upon  the  lake,  the  boom  of  the  bull- 
frog in  the  marsh,   the  drumming   of 
the    ruffed    grouse  on   the   hill.     The 
waves  of  conflict  fell  back  for  a  brief 
space,  and  left  the  charred  logs   and 
fire    scorched     stonework,     and      the 
trampled,  stump-strewn  cornfields    of 
William  Henry,  as  the  sum  total  of  a 
year's  success  and  failure. 


TO    BE    CONTINUED 


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THE    LAST    SHOT 

By  MARGUERITE  EVANS 

**  There  is  a  remedy  for  every  wrong-,  and  a  satisfaction  for  every  soul."- 

— Emersofis  Immortality, 


|F  you  won't  shoot  that  ram, 
I  will;  but  ril  be  durned 
if  I  thought  you  was  such 
a  coward. " 

**A  what!"  and  the  hand- 
some, stern-faced  Englishman's  steely- 
blue  eyes  flashed  with  a  dangerous  light. 

**A  coward!  Ain't  my  articulation 
plain  enough  ?"  replied  the  other,  a 
rough,  old,  sour-dough  miner.  "  There 
ain't  a  blamed  thing  wrong  with  that 
English  kid  but  just  pure  homesick- 
ness, an'  there  ain't  no  cure  for  that 
but  just  '  git  home.'  I  kin  set  a 
broken  lim',  an'  I  kin  pull  a  man 
through  a  bad  case  of  fever;  but  when 
it  comes  to  homesickness  I  either  put 
my  hand  in  my  pocket  an'  yank  them 
out  enough  spots  to  take  them  home, 
or  I  turn  my  head  the  other  way,  an' 
just  let  them  die.  Many  a  big,  strong 
fellow  I've  seen  just  pine  away  an'  die 
from  that  very  thing." 

The  Englishman  had  pushed  his 
chair  into  the  shadow,  and  shaded  his 
face  with  his  hand;  but  the  observant 
Yankee  saw  tears  trickling  through 
the  browned  and  hardened  but  still 
shapely  fingers,  and  he  pursued  the  sub- 
ject, not  because  he  was  anxious  to  do 
so,  but  because  the  need  was  so  urgent. 

"We're  so  dead  broke  we  haven't 
money  enough  between  us  to  buy  a 
plug  of  tobacco,  an'  we  can't  git  a  cent 
of  credit.  You  can't  cable  to  the  kid's 
mother  for  money,  an'  if  your  Eng- 
lishy  pride  would  let  you  there  wouldn't 
be  time  to  wait  to  git  it,  for  the  kid's 
dyin'  in  there;  anyone  with  half  an  eye 
kin  see  that.  He  ain't  got  no  appe- 
tite, an'  he  can't  sleep;  an'  he  just  lies 
there  starin'  out  of  them  big,  hollow 
eyes  of  his  at  the  trail  over  the  moun- 
tain; an'  I  know  durned  well  what  he's 
thinkin'.  I'm  a  hardened  old  sinner, 
goodness  knows,  but  many's  the  night 
the  tears  roll  down  these  grizzled 
cheeks  of  mine  to  hear  that  kid  cryin' 


for  his  mother  when  he  thinks  we're 
asleep.  He's  got  to  be  sent  home  to 
England  inside  a  week,  or  there  will 
be  a  corpse  in  this  shack  that  will  haunt 
it  while  there's  one  log  left  on  another." 

**  Granted,"  returned  the  English- 
man icily,  ''still,  what  has  the  ram  to 
do  with  it  ?" 

**  Damn  you!  you  know  well  enough; 
the  last  time  I  was  over  at  the  town  I 
met  a  young  fellow  from  the  east  who 
asked  me  if.  I  ever  saw  any  Mountain 
Sheep  out  this  way.  Said  he  wanted 
a  ram's  head  with  good  big  horns  in 
the  very  worst  way  to  send  down 
East.  Said  he  knew  they  were  scarce 
now  an'  hard  to  git,  an'  that  he  would 
give  two  hundred  for  an  extra  large 
one.  My  opinion  is  that  the  tender- 
foot wants  to  let  on  he  shot  the 
animal  himself;  but  I  suppose  it's  none 
of  my  funeral." 

**  Well?"  queried  the  Englishman, 
brusquely. 

*'  I  lied  like  a  lord,  said  I  hadn't 
seen  any  rams  for  years;  they  were 
gittin'  mighty  scarce.  But,  great 
hickory!  if  I'd  told  him  that  we  had  a 
pet  ram  here  that  you  had  raised;  that 
it  had  come  back  to  you  for  a  few 
weeks  spring  and  fall  for  the  last  fifteen 
years,  an'  was  here  now,  an'  could  be 
shot  just  as  easy  as  rollin'  off  a  log, 
wouldn't  that  young  easterner  have 
been  up  here  on  the  jump?" 

**  If  you  had  told  him  that,"  said  the 
Englishman  coldly,  **  I  should  have 
killed  you." 

The  Yankee  chuckled,  and  uncon- 
cernedly cut  some  tobacco  and  filled 
his  pipe.  The  Englishman  rose  abrupt- 
ly and  went  outside,  where  the  short 
winter  day  was  dying. 

Below  him  lay  a  dark,  undulating 
line  where  oak  and  cedar  had  made 
their  last  stand  in  the  upward  march; 
nearer,  the  spectral  ranks  of  the  stunt- 
ed firs  showed  the  outposts   of  forest 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


advance.  Above  him  dazzling  white 
peaks  cut  strange,  solemn  shapes,  like 
silver  cameos  on  a  ground  of  indigo 
sky.  The  sunset  glory  streamed  up  al- 
most to  the  zenith,  lighting  and  glori- 
fying peak  after  peak  with  flames  of 
gold  and  amethyst  and  faintest  opaline 
green.  Later,  the  vivid  orange  of  the 
afterglow  burned  with  a  transient  splen- 
dour, as  the  dying  smile  of  a  day  that 
is  going  to  its  eternal  rest,  and  all  the 
mountain  world  around  him  was  one 
vast  evening  primrose  of  palest  gold 
sprinkled  with  star  dust. 

Then  the  golden  glow  faded,  and  all 
the  wintry  world  in  its  glittering  livery 
of  ice  lay  white  and  cold  and  still, 
wrapped  in  peace  as  profound  as  that 
which  reigned  in  the  primeval  ages. 

For  a  long,  long  time  the  man  stood 
with  folded  arms,  gazing  with  eyes 
which  seeing  did  not  see,  at  the  ever 
changing  panorama,  as  memory  un- 
locked her  gates,  and  left  him  free  to 
wander  in  the  realms  of  the  past,  and 
among  very  different  scenes. 

Solemn,  mysterious,  tremendous  was 
the  picture  before  him;  but  memory 
showed  him  a  very  different  one,  in  the 
foreground  of  which  was  a  beautiful, 
dark-eyed  woman,  the  one  love  of  his 
life,  and  in  the  background  an  old 
English  castle  with  ivied  towers  and 
battlements,  ancient  trees,  and  a  green 
turf  soft  as  velvet  beneath  the  feet. 

Back  over  the  winding  trail  among 
the  mountains,  back  over  the  weary 
miles  of  railway-spanned  prairie,  back 
over  the  rolling  blue  waves  stretched 
the  land  of*'  might  have  been." 

Surely  he  had  been  pursued  by  a 
malignant  fate!  The  old  castle  which 
should  have  been  his,  the  woman  who 
should  have  been  his,  the  boy  who 
should  have  been  his,  the  unstained 
name  which  should  have  been  his; 
home,  love,  country,  wealth,  free- 
dom even,  all  lost,  and  lost  through 
another's  deep-dyed  villainy. 

And  now!  an  illiterate  Yankee  miner 
had  dared  to  call  him  to  his  face  a 
coward  because  he  refused  to  shoot  a 
noble  animal  which  loved  him,  trusted 
him;  and  all  for  what?  To  save  the 
life  of  a  puling,  homesick  brat,  the  son 


of  the  man  whose  treachery  had  taken 
from  him  all  the  sweetness,  all  the  joy 
of  life.  And  yet!  the  boy  had  his  moth- 
er's eyes. 

.  .         •         •     •    .         • 

Slowly,  drearily,  hopelessly,  three 
leaden-footed  days  and  nights  dragged 
themselves  by,  and  still  both  men  were 
waiting,  like  Micawber,  for  something 
to  **  turn  up,"  and  still  the  boy,  wasted 
to  a  shadow,  lay  listlessly  on  his  rude 
couch,  gazing  with  hungry  eyes  at  the 
narrow  trail,  which  wound  itself  like  a 
mighty,  sinuous  serpent  around  the 
steep  mountain  passes,  and  vanished 
in  the  distance  like  the  ghost  of  a 
buried  hope;  and  still  the  ram,  secure 
in  the  friendship  which  he  had  proved 
so  long,  came  and  went  at  his  own 
sweet  will.  Now  bounding  from  boulder 
to  boulder,  barely  touching  the  rocks 
with  his  padded  toes;  now  browsing  off 
dainty  tit-bits  on  the  mountain-side, 
and  now  lying  at  the  door  of  his 
friend's  shack,  gazing  with  kindly, 
golden-brown  eyes  in  their  faces  as  they 
came  and  went. 

But! — On  the  morning  of  the  fourth 
day  the  end  came.  The  boy  must  be 
roused  by  being  told  that  he  could  at 
once  start  for  home,  or  he  would  never 
rally  from  the  stupor  into  which  he 
had  fallen  during  the  night.  Both 
men  realized  that. 

Outside,  in  the  glad,  free  air,  the 
ram,  quivering  in  the  fulness  of  his 
life  and  happiness,  was  leaping  from 
boulder  to  boulder,  every  movement 
the  perfection  of  the  poetry  of  motion. 
Inside,  the  boy  lay  motionless,  scarcely 
breathing,  gazing  with  dull,  unseeing 
eyes  at  the  blank  wall,  and  refusing  to 
touch  the  food  which  with  great  care 
had  been  provided  for  him. 

One  or  the  other  must  die,  but  which  ? 

Was  it  chance,  or  was  it  the  **  des- 
tiny that  shapes  our  ends  "  that  made 
Yankee  at  that  moment  sing  in  his 
high,  cracked  falsetto,  *'And  for  bonnie 
Annie  Laurie  I'll  lay  me  down  and 
dee  ?"  Who  can  say  ?  But  it  decided 
the  Englishman's  course.  To**  dee" 
for  his  Annie  Laurie,  that  were  easy, 
for  what  was  life  but  a  burden  which 
he  would  fain  lay  down  ?    But  to  betray 


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the  trust  which  a  noble  animal  reposed 
in  him — that  was  a  very  different  thing! 
Still  he  would  do  it! 

'*Go  up  to  town,  Yankee,  and  bring 
back  they  oung  fellow  you  spoke  of,"  he 
said.  '*  I  must  see  my  thirty  pieces  of 
silver  before  I  make  a  Judas  of  myself. 
Go,  for  heaven's  sake  go!  What  are 
you  waiting  for  ?"  he  continued,  as  the 
other  lingered. 

'<ril  do  it,  if  you  like,"  replied 
Yankee,  hesitatingly,  pointing  sig- 
nificantly from  his  rifle  to  the  ram. 

*'  I  don't  like!  damn  you!''  roared 
the  Englishman,  "I'll  ask  no  man  to 
do  my  dirty  work  for  me." 

It  has  been  said  by  someone  that  each 
human  soul  is  dowered  with  an  inherent 
adaptability  to  its  environment,  and  no 
weight  is  ever  imposed  upon  it  which 
cannot  by  heroic  effort  be  sustained; 
and  the  Englishman  had  found  it  so. 

Falsely  accused,  and  unjustly  con- 
demned, he  had  fled  like  a  hunted 
beast  from  the  land  which  had  given 
him  birth;  and,  hounded  by  the  blind 
zeal  of  the  officers  of  the  law,  had 
sought  refuge  in  the  loneliest  retreat  in 
the  loneliest  region  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, and  had,  like  the  eagle,  built  for 
himself  a  nest  on  the  face  of  a  cliff. 

Humanity  had  turned  its  back  upon 
him,  but  the  unaccusing  world  of 
Nature,  with  the  glory  of  its  ever 
changing  days,  and  the  soothing  witch- 
ery of  its  solemn  nights,  had  ministered 
healing  to  his  wounded  spirit  for  a  time. 

Then,  the  beauty  and  the  awful  lone- 
liness had  palled  upon  him,  and  the 
terrible  monotony  of  his  life  had 
become  unbearable;  and  one  bright 
June  day,  as  he  watched  a  mountain 
sheep  grazing  contentedly  with  her 
lamb  skipping  about,  and  wagging  its 
tail  by  her  side,  the  contrast  between 
the  full,  satisfied  life  of  the  beast  and 
the  empty,  unsatisfied  life  of  the  man 
had  smitten  him  with  bitter,  unreason- 
able anger.  **Why,"  he  questioned 
fiercely,  "should an  animal  have  some- 
thing of  its  own  to  love  and  care  for 
when  I,  a  human  creature,  have  noth- 
ing?" And,  with  a  pure  savage  desire 
to  destroy  the  happiness  he  could  not 
share,  he  had  raised  his  rifle  and  fired. 


The  shot  sped  with  all  too  fatal  sure- 
ness,  and  without  even  a  quiver  the 
sheep  lay  dead. 

When  too  late  he  cursed  himself  for 
his  brutal  cruelty  and,  kneeling  beside 
his  victim,  wept  over  the  ruin  he  had 
wrought,  while  the  poor  little  lambkin, 
knowing  no  fear,  had  bleated  pitifully 
over  the  body  of  its  dead  mother. 

Filled  with  remorse  he  had  carried  it 
to  his  shack  and  fed  it  with  milk  from 
his  own  cup,  and  wrapped  it  at  night 
in  softest  furs,  and  the  little  thing  had 
grown  and  flourished,  and  filled  his  life 
at  a  time  when,  for  want  of  some  liv- 
ing thing  to  love,  reason  was  tottering 
on  her  throne. 

True  to  his  animal  instincts,  the 
ram  had,  in  the  course  of  time,  sought 
out  his  own  kind,  but  he  had  always 
come  back,  fearing  no  evil,  and  now! 
he  was  to  be  offered  a  sacrifice  on  the 
altar  of  an  old  sentiment.  *  And  yet! 
the  boy  had  his  mother's  eyes! 

The  hours  had  worn  on.  It  was 
high  noon  now.  Yankee  would  soon 
be  back.  Yes!  even  now,  through  the 
mountain  stillness,  he  could  hear  the 
rattle  of  the  waggon  over  the  rocky 
road.  There  were  voices,  too!  Then 
there  was  no  hope,  for  the  young  east- 
erner was  there — and  the  ram  must  die ! 

But  he  would  give  him  a  chance 
for  his  life,  and  God  grant  he  would 
take  it  !  He  should  fire  three  shots. 
The  first  two  should  just  miss  him,  no 
more;  the  third  and  last  should  not  miss, 
if  the  ram  still  remained  within  range. 

The  rumbling  of  the  waggon  came 
nearer,  the  voices  became  more  dis- 
tinct, and  inside  the  shack  the  boy 
moaned  feebly. 

The  ram  was  browsing  happily,  not 
fifty  yards  away.  The  Englishman 
took  steady  aim,  and  fired.  The  ball 
grazed  the  grass  under  the  ram's 
nose.  He  looked  up  for  a  moment  in 
surprise,  and  went  on  feeding,  while 
the  mountains  mockingly  took  up  the 
echo  of  the  report,  and  tossed  it  back 
and  forth,  and  back  and  forth,  as  skil- 
ful players  toss  a  tennis  ball. 

The  waggon  and  voices  came  nearer 
and  nearer.  Heavens  !  how  fast  that 
fool  of  a   Yankee  was  driving  !     The 


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boy  moaned  still  more  feebly,  and 
again  the  despairing,  desperate  Eng- 
lishman fired.  The  ball  knocked  the 
stone  from  below  the  ram's  fore  foot ; 
but  he  did  not  run  away.  Instead,  he 
turned  his  brown  eyes  in  startled 
questioning  on  his  friend. 

Great  drops  of  sweat  stood  on  the 
Englishman's  forehead,  and  his  heart 
thumped  like  a  sledge  hammer,  but 
his  hand  was  steady.  And — the  boy 
had  his  mother's  eyes  ! 

In  another  minute  the  waggon 
would  be  there,  for  Yankee,  curse 
him,  was  driving  like  Jehu  !  He  must 
get  it  over  while  he  was  alone.  Yet, 
great  heavens  !  how  could  he  do  it  ? 
How  kill  in  cold  blood  the  friend  of 
fourteen  years,  the  preserver  of  his 
reason  ?  But  !  the  boy  had  his  mother's 
eyes  !  His  finger  is  on  the  trigger,  it 
is  half  snapped,  when  an  unearthly 
yell  from  Yankee  causes  him  to  drop 
his  rifle,  and  **  The  Last  Shot"  goes 
harmlessly  speeding  down  the  mount- 
ain side. 

*' Great  hickory!  thank  your  stars 
you  haint  done  it !  Oh  great  hickory! 
I  say  !  I  never  was  so  glad  about  any- 
thing in  all  my  durned  life  !  Here's 
the  kid's  mother  !  " 

The  ram  with  glad  bounds  came 
down  close  to  his  friend,  and  laid  his 
head  against  his  arm;  and,  with  dazed 
unbelieving  eyes,  the  Englishman 
gazed  at  the  beautiful  apparition  in 
the  waggon  beside  the  uncouth,  ges- 
ticulating, tear-begrimed  Yankee. 

**  Aren't  you  going  to  assist  me  to 
get  out,  or  must  I  jump  ?  "  asked  the 
sweetest  voice,  belonging  to  the 
sweetest  lips,  in  the  world. 

Then  his  inherent  English  pride  and 
breeding  reasserted  itself,  ai}d  with  his 
old-time  courtesy  he  assisted  the  lady 
to  alight,  and  in  his  old-time  tones, 
without  a  trace  of  his  recent  emotion, 
said:  **You  are  just  in  time,  Lady 
Hinton.  I  was  afraid  that  youngster 
of  yours  wasn't  going  to  pull  through; 
but  with  such  a  nurse,  and  such  medi- 
cine, he  can't  do  otherwise  than  get 
well  at  once."  He  led  her  to  the  door 
of  the  shack  and  left  her. 

^*  For  all  the   durned  coolness  and 


high  mightyness,  in  this  earthly  sphere, 
give  me  a  dogoned  Englishman ! " 
soliloquized  Yankee  a  few  hours  later, 
as  with  his  arm  around  the  ram's  large 
curved  horns  he  lay  in  the  sun  on  the 
mountain  side.  **  You'd  have  thought 
he  had  seen  that  woman  every  day  for 
the  last  ten  years,  he  was  so  durned 
cool  and  polite.  Sat  at  the  head  of 
that  durned  table,  without  a  cloth  or  a 
durned  thing  on  it  but  the  dishes  an' 
the  grub,  as  unconcerned  as  if  it  was 
loaded  with  china,  an'  flowers  an' 
silver,  an'  had  a  flunkey  behind  each 
chair.  But !  "  with  a  wicked  grin, 
*' I  fixed  him,  didn't  I,  Rammie  ?  I 
made  his  little  cake  of  high  mighty- 
ness dough,  durned  if  I  didn't,  old 
Rammie  !  I  don't  believe  in  flyin'  in 
the  face  of  Providence,  an'  what  else 
would  it  have  been  if  I  hadn't  im- 
proved my  opportunities  this  mornin' 
in  that  long  drive  I  had  with  my  Lady, 
to  tell  her  how  much  store  he  set  by 
her  kid  for  her  sake,  an'  how  he  was 
goin'  to  shoot  you,  old  Rammie,  an' 
sell  your  head  to  get  money  to  send 
her  kid  home  to  her.  Catch  him  tellin' 
her  a  durned  thing  about  that  !  Even 
if  he  had  fired  that  last  shot  at  you, 
and  killed  you,  old  chappie,  he'd  have 
let  on  it  was  just  because  he  wanted 
to,  an'  never  hinted  that  it  broke  his 
heart  to  do  it. 

*'But  I  fixed  it  up!  Durned  if  1 
didn't,  old  Rammie.  He  is  heir  to  an 
earldom,  an'  his  innocence  has  been 
proved,  she  said  ;  an'  I  never  let  on 
that  he  had  been  so  durned  close  ;  he 
had  never  told  me  what  he  was  accused 
of,  but  since  he  didn't  do  it,  an'  didn't 
shoot  you,  old  Rammie,  it  doesn't  mat- 
ter "  ;  and  the  ram  blinked  his  eyes  as 
if  to  say :  *  *  Them  is  my  sentiments  too. " 

**  I  rubbed  it  in  well  ;  what  a  des- 
perate store  he  must  set  by  her  when 
he  was  willin'  to  fire  the  very  last  shot 
at  you,  old  chappie;  an'  if  she  don't 
take  him  back  with  her,  an'  marry 
him,  an'  leave  you  an'  me  monarchs 
of  all  we  survey  here,  old  Ram,  I'm 
no  judge  of  dark-eyed  widders — an' 
it's  me  that  knows  how  they  play  the 
devrl  with  a  man,  Rammie." 

But  subsequent  events  showed  that 
Yankee  was  no  false  prophet. 


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AMUSEMENT   IN  STATISTICS 


By  STAMBURY  R.   TARR 


I  HE  preparation  of  mortality 
statistics  is  not  primarily 
an  amusini^  occupation. 
But  even  tombstones  have 
contributed  their  quota  to 
the  world's  fund  of  humour.  So  it  is 
not  inconceivable  that  a  mortality  in- 
vestigation should  give  rise  to  occa- 
sions for  smiling  or  even  for  hearty 
laughter.  Data  was  collected  recently 
from  the  leading  life  insurance  com- 
panies of  Canada  and  the  United 
States,  for  a  specialized  mortality  in- 
vestigation by  the  Actuarial  Society 
of  America.  This  necessarily  involved 
the  reading  of  thousands  of  old  appli- 
cation papers,  and  from  some  of  these 
the  following  material  has  been  culled. 


Frequently  the  reports  of  private 
friends,  sent  in  connection  with  the 
applications,  contain  amusing  com- 
ments. One  acquaintance  writes  in 
the  following  candid  manner  of  an  ap- 
plicant: **  Fairly  temperate — takes  an 
occasional  bust."  Asked  whether  a 
friead  was  active  or  sedentary,  another 
writes:  **  Both — he  rides  a  bicycle." 

But  among  the  private  reports  per- 
haps the  most  noteworthy  is  the  fol- 
lowing: **  He  is  an  extraordinary  man 
for  eating  potatoes,  but  his  other  hab- 
its are  good.     He  is  a  born  teetotaler.  *' 

One  of  the  company's  agents,  in  re- 
porting to  head  office  upon  an  appli- 
cant who  happens  to  be  his  own  son, 
makes  this  reply  to  the  question  as  to 
whether  he  is  acquainted  with  the  per- 
son proposed.  **Very  intimately — as 
1  am  in  a  measure  responsible  for  his 
appearance  on  this  sublunary  spher- 
oid." Questioned  as  to  an  applicant's 
habits,  a  conscientious  agent  states  : 
**  Temperate,  though  since  his  return 
from  Germany  he  seems  to  think  that 
a  pipe  with  four  feet  of  stem  is  the 
right  thing."  One  of  the  company's 
representatives,  himself  evidently  pos- 


sessed of  poetic  tastes,  reports  that  a 
certain  applicant's  reason  for  taking 
out  a  policy  is  that  ''  the  youth  dreams 
this  will  be  an  assurance  more  grateful 
to-  his  mistress  than  '  a  woeful  ballad 
made  to  her  eyebrow.'" 

One  of  the  questions  on  the  report 
form  to  be  filled  out  by  the  agent  reads 
as  follows:  *  Ms  there  anything  in  his 
manner,  conversation  or  appearance 
which  indicates  ill  health,  irregular 
habits,  etc.?"  A  comprehensive  an- 
swer supplied  by  one  agent  declares: 
*'  He  can  take  a  standing  jump  of  5  ft. 
7  in. — his  manner  is  good — his  con- 
versation modest,  though  I  have  heard 
him  swear  when  he  lost  a  bass." 


A  somewhat  precarious  state  of  do- 
mestic bliss  is  thus  described  by  a  med- 
ical examiner,  in  reply  to  a  question 
as  to  the  applicant's  habits:  **  Said  to 
be  somewhat  wild  at  one  time.  Is 
now  married  and  living  steadily.  He 
lives  with  his  mother — or  mother  with 
him.  It  is  hard  to  say  which — but  the 
mother  has  the  means." 

Upon  enquiry  from  head  office  as  to 
the  cause  of  an  applicant  decreasing 
in  weight  from  162  to  150  pounds,  the 
local  medico  replies:  **Mr.  A.  informs 
me  that  the  only  way  he  can  account 
for  loss  in  weight  is  that  last  July  he 
was  selling  oil  for  one  dollar  and 
twenty  cents  per  barrel,  which  had  a 
fattening  effect  on  his  system;  while  at 
the  present  time  he  gets  only  eighty- 
five  cents  for  same  commodity."  The 
**  fattening  effect"  of  petroleum  has 
seldom  been  more  forcefully  illustrated 
even  in  the  advertisements  of  patent 
emulsions. 

It  is,  however,  the  statement  of 
applicants  themselves  that  prove  of 
most  interest.  It  is  not  surprising  to 
find  that  the  man  who  states  his  father 
is  **  in  good  health,  aged  70,  and 
alive,"  is  an  Irishman,  though  another 
who  declares  his  mother  to  be  **  in  fair 


167 


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health  and  not  deceased/'  is  English. 

Another  surprising  piece  of  informa- 
tion is  conveyed  in  the  statement  that 
''  Five  children  died  in  infancy,  three 
being  boys;  the  rest  were  girls."  The 
emphasis  of  the  man  who  affirms  ''  I 
am  single — not  married,"  must  carry 
conviction  to  every  reader.  Paternal 
pride  glows  strong  in  this  statement 
by  a  fond  father:  '*  I  have  one  child; 
he  is  in  good  health,  and  a  perfect  lit- 
tle devil!" 

That  one  applicant  '^  left  the  family 
at  the  age  of  ten  in  a  huff,"  is  not 
remarkable — every  boy  has  done  that 
more  than  once.  But  in  this  case, 
unlike  the  generality,  Johnny  did  not 
turn  up  at  supper  time,  nor  ever  again, 
and,  in  consequence,  no  information  is 
now  given  as  to  ages  of  parents  at 
death.  A  somewhat  noteworthy  fam- 
ily it  must  be  of  whom  one  of  the 
members  says:  **  My  brothers  and 
sisters  are  both  whole  and  half  broth- 
ers and  sisters." 

In  another  family  circle  the  ' '  grand 
maternal  parents  are  still  living,"  while 
one  less  favoured  man  doesn't  know 
**  whether  there  ever  were  any  near 
relatives  or  not."  Recognizing  the 
bearing  of  heredity  in  deciding  upon 
applications,  one  intending  insurer 
emphasizes  the  fact  that  '*  although 
my  own  mother  died  young  my  step- 
mother is  alive  and  in  good  health." 
Another  is  less  impressed  with  the 
importance  of  ancestral  longevity,  and 
complains  in  writing,  'Mf  it  is  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  answer  all  these 
questions — which  requires  a  person  to 
have  a  knowledge  of  his  forefathers 
from  Adam  down — please  cancel  my 
application." 

An  applicant  of  over  sixty  remarks 
concerning  his  mother  that  she  is  liv- 
ing at  the  age  of  about  one  hundred 
years,  '^  health  being  good,  but  not 
very  active."  One  can  imagine  the 
carefulness  with  which  the  medical 
directors  would  feel  compelled  to 
examine  into  the  application  of  a  man 
whose  mother  ceased  doing  house- 
work after  a  mere  century  of  mundane 
existence. 


Statements  with  regard  to  the  cause 
of  relatives'  deaths  are  sometimes  so 
oddly  put  that  the  reader  forgets  the 
pathos  underlying  them.  A  pathetic 
enough  series  of  facts  is  told  in  a  vivid 
but  rather  an  unusual  way  by  one 
applicant  in  this  manner:  '^  My  brother 
fell  down  a  well  and  was  drowned; 
was  brought  back  to  life  again;  lived 
seven  months,  took  a  fever,  and  died." 

Those  who  may  doubt  that  the  capa- 
city for  intense  passion  has  survived  to 
these  prosaic  days  will  be  interested  in 
the  statement  of  one  applicant  that  his 
brother  died  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
three,  of  no  particular  disease,  but  of 
a  broken  heart  from  being  disappointed 
in  love." 

A  rather  complicated  state  of  affairs 
it  must  have  been  which  led  to  death 
'*  from  inflammation  induced  by  swal- 
lowing knife,  fork  and  spoon."  The 
applicant  who  states  that  his  father 
''took  cold  and  died,  as  judge  of  a 
horse  race,"  undoubtedly  does  so  as 
proudly  as  if  he  "died  as  a  scholar 
and  gentleman."  Credulity  is  some- 
what stretched  in  reading  of  a  mother 
who  "died  at  the  age  of  5,"  but  on 
referring  to  a  supplementary  memo, 
it  is  found  that  the  omission  of  a  mere 
zero  has  made  a  perceptible  difference. 
One  parent  "  had  a  leg  taken  off  which 
healed  up,  but  fell  from  a  chair  and 
never  got  out  of  bed  after  " — altogether 
a  somewhat  complex  case  to  diagnose 
if  paralleled  by  the  difficulty  in  analyz- 
ing the  sentence  itself.  Little  less 
complex  is  the  culinary  achievement  of 
the  man  who  "took  a  mixture  of 
onions,  buckwheat  and  milk  of  his  own 
compounding,  which  resulted  in  an 
illness." 

A  whole  novel  in  parvo  is  to  be 
found  in  the  following  legal  statement, 
found  within  the  outer  envelope  con- 
taining the  insurance  papers  of  the 
applicant : 

"I,  John  Dash,  of  the  Town  of 
Dashford,  the  assured  under  policy 
No.  00000,  granted  by  the  Blank  Life 
Assurance  Company,  do  by  this  in- 
strument revoke  the  benefits  intended 


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THE  LAND  OF  LONG  DA  YS 


169 


to  be  conferred  by  declaration,  dated 
3rd  August,  189  ,  endorsed  upon  said 
policy,  upon  Miss  Jane  Nemo,  my  then 
intended  wife,  she  having  since  mar- 
ried Another  ;  and  do  divert  the  entire 
benefit  of  the  said  policy  wholly  to 
myself,  my  executors,  administrators 
or  assigns." 

Could  a  more  up-to-date  revenge 
than  this  be  imagined?  The  possi- 
bilities of  thrilling  romance  are  by  no 
means  exhausted  when  everyday  life 
contains  so  moving  an  instance  of 
what  a  desperate  lover  can  do.  To 
contemplate  the  fate  in  store  for  the 
said  Another  *'  must  give  us  pause." 

But  the  finding  of  more  or  less 
amusing  statements,    such    as    those 


mentioned,  is  only  one  incident  in  a 
task  which  in  other  ways  constant- 
ly reminds  those  engaged  in  it  that 
they  are  dealing  with  the  records 
of  individual  lives  —  each  of  them 
with  its  own  world  of  interests,  its 
own  strivings,  its  own  joys  and  sor- 
rows. 

Sometimes  in  the  bare  statement  of 
family  history  the  collator  of  facts  in- 
stinctively sees  between  the  lines 
glimpses  of  individual  or  family  pathos 
and  suffering — some  closet  skeleton 
that  seldom  sees  the  light  of  day,  a 
tragedy  even  that  forces  upon  him  the 
realization  that  everyday  life  is  made 
up  of  the  same  elements  from  which 
dramatists  evolve  their  most  moving 
creations. 


THE  LAND  OF  LONG  DAYS* 

By  EDWARD  F.  STRANGE 


ONCE  upon  a  time  in  the  Land  of 
Long  Days,  it  happened  that  all 
the  people  were  grown  up,  and  so 
there  were  no  children. 

Then  the  men  said:  "Now  there  is 
DO  one  to  wake  us  up  when  we  fall 
asleep  after  meals,  or  to  ask  us  ques- 
tions that  we  cannot  answer." 

And  also  the  women  told  each  other 
that  at  last  they  should  have  peace, 
for  there  would  be  no  children  to  scold 
and  things  would  keep  clean. 

So  they  were  all  glad  and  set  about 
their  work  with  cheerfulness  and  a 
good  temper. 

But  because  the  King  was  very  old 
and  very  wise  he  said  nothing. 

Now  the  first  trouble  came  this  way. 
The  men  went  far  afield  in  the  morning 
to  work  and  by  noon  were  faint  and 
hungry;  but  no  one  brought  food  as  of 
old,  so  some  had  to  waste  their 
time  and  labour  in  fetching  it  for  the 
others.  And  that  was  a  cause  of  sor- 
row and  wrath,  and  the  oldest  of  them 
went  to  the  King  and  complained. 

The  King  thought  the  matter  over 


in  silence  for  three  days  and  nights; 
then  he  sent  for  the  messengers  and 
said:  "Take  by  lot  one  from  every 
ten  of  you,  and  let  him  serve  the 
others;  and  he  shall  be  called  a  child 
by  the  law." 

Again  there  arose  strife  among  the 
women,  for  they  wearied  of  talking  to 
each  other  while  the  men  were  at  work 
and  when  the  spinning  was  done; 
and  they  grew  sour  and  spiteful  and 
slovenly  in  their  attire,  having  no  need 
to  set  a  good  example.  And  again 
the  messengers  came  to  the  King. 

This  time  he  debated  with  the  Queen 
for  six  days  and  nights,  and  sent  for 
the  messengers,  and  said: 

**  Take  by  lot  one  woman  from  every 
five — seeing  that  there  is  need  of 
many — and  let  her  follow  the  example 
of  her  elders,  and  do  as  she  is  bidden 
without  question;  and  give  her  toys, 
and  let  her  be  a  child  by  law." 

In  that  land  also  there  were  many 
wise  men  by  reason  of  the  days  being 
so  long;  and  they  also  came  unto  the 
King  sadly,  for  they  said  that  wisdom 


*  By  permission  of  The  Outlook  of  London,  Eng. 


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was  now  of  no  account,  since  there 
was  no  one  to  be  taught. 

At  this  the  Kiag^s  heart  became 
heavy  with  sorrow,  for  the  wise  men 
of  his  land  were  very  wise.  Twelve 
nights  and  days  did  he  ponder,  and 
then  called  them  to  him  and  said: 

**  Lo  !  you  are  my  people,  and  I  am 
King;  therefore  must  I  help  you  as 
I  may.  I  will  become  as  a  child  for 
you,  and  you  shall  teach  me,  and  I  will 
learn,  so  that  you  be  content !" 

But  all  that  the  King  did  was  of  no 
avail,  and  the  cry  of  the  people 
became  sadder  and  sadder. 

One  day  a  poor  man  stood  in  the 
King's  gate  and  spoke  aloud. 

**  O  King,"  said  he,  **  I  am  but  a  poor 
man  and  in  pain  with  toil;  yet  if  a 
child's  hand  were  laid  on  my  brow 
I  should  be  well." 

And  the  King  said,  **  What  of  thy 
law-child?" 

But  the  man  answered — sadly,  for 
he  had  forgotten  how  to  laugh — **0 
King,  she  is  older  than  I,  and  her 
hand  is  not  as  the  hand  of  a  child." 
And  thereat  he  went  away,  for  he  loved 
the  King. 

And  many  things  like  this  befell 
daily. 

Once  the  King  walked  alone  in  his 
courtyard  trying  to  think.  But  or 
ever  he  saw  the  end  of  his  thoughts  the 
song  of  a  starling  on  the  roof  brake  in 
upon  them  and  scattered  them.  At 
last  in  bitterness  the  King  cried  out : 

**0  starling,  why  dost  thou  mock 
me? — thou  hast  thy  little  ones,  but  we 
are  a  barren  nation  and  our  hearts  are 
breaking." 

But  it  seemed  to  the  King  as  he 
spoke  that  the  song  of  the  starling 
was  this  : 

Help  cometh  for  thee 

From  the  tears  of  a  little  child. 

And  he  hastened  forth  and  gathered 
his  ambassadors  together  with  gold 
and  silver  and  rich  presents,  and  bade 
them  go  far  into  the  next  country 
to  the  King  thereof,  bearing  a  mes- 
sage : 

**To  our  cousin,  greeting  and  good 
health.     We   are  old  and  would  fain 


hear  the  voice  of  a  child  before  we  die. 
Send,  therefore,  one  unto  us  for  a 
little  space.'* 

Then  the  ambassadors  went  on  their 
journey  and  laid  this  message  before 
the  King  of  the  next  country.  He, 
thinking  to  do  well,  straightway  called 
for  his  eldest  daughter,  and  clothed 
h^r  in  her  robes  of  State,  and  sent  her 
forth  with  the  ambassadors  to  greet 
his  neighbour.  And  the  embassy  set 
out  and  made  haste  to  return. 

As  they  came  near  to  the  palace  the 
ne^^s  of  the  coming  of  a  child  spread 
through  the  country,  and  all  the  people 
hasted  together  to  see  her.  But  when 
they  saw  the  rich  robes  of  State  and 
the  proud  face  of  the  Princess  some 
wept  and  some  were  angry,  for  they 
said : 

**This  is  naught  but  a  law-child 
from  the  next  kingdom!" 

And  also  the  Princess  looking  about 
her  saw  some  of  the  law-children,  men 
and  women  of  all  ages,  at  their  games 
and  duties.  At  first  she  wondered  and 
then  laughed  aloud  in  scorn. 

*  *  O  King,"  she  cried,  *  *  are  thy  people 
mad?  for  I  see  men  of  many  years  play- 
ing with  toys,  and  grown  women  also." 
And  she  laughed  in  the  King's  face. 

The  King's  anger  rose  in  his  coun- 
tenance, but  for  courtesy's  sake  he 
treated  the  Princess  with  due  cere- 
mony. 

But  on  the  next  day,  at  the  hour  of 
audience,  the  labourer  stood  again  in 
the  Hall,  and  cried  to  the  King  to  ease 
him  of  his  pain. 

Then  the  King  turned  to  the  Princess 
— and  the  Queen,  also — and  entreated 
her  to  lay  her  hand  on  the  man's  brow 
that  he  might  be  cured. 

But  the  Princess  turned  aside.  '  *  Not 
so,"  said  she,  **  diamonds  touch  not 
clay  lest  they  be  soiled." 

Again  was  the  King  wroth:  and  this 
time  he  called  together  the  ambassa- 
dors again  and  sent  her  back  with  them 
to  her  own  land,  saying: 

**This  thy  daughter  is  verily  a  Prin- 
cess, but  I  have  need  of  a  child.  Send 
now  one,  or  I  will  come  with  my  armies 
and  destroy  thee." 

At  this    the    other   was   much   per- 


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FROM  KOBE  TO  CANADA 


>7i 


plexed,  for  he  feared  to  give  offence. 
But  his  Chamberlain  bethought  him- 
self and  said: 

"There  is  a  cripple  child  that  play- 
eth  about  the  gate  of  the  Palace,  and 
hath  not  father  nor  mother.  Let  my 
lord  send  her  just  as  she  is,  and  per- 
chance the  king  of  the  South  will  be 
appeased." 

So  that  was  done  with  all  speed,  and 
the  embassy  returned  home  again 
bringing  the  cripple  child. 

This  time,  however,  the  people  took 
no  heed,  having  been  saddened  before. 
And  the  cripple  came  unto  the  King 
without  notice  and  stood  beside  him  in 
the  Hall  of  Audience. 

And  again  the  labourer  kqelt  before 
the  King,  but  ere  he  could  speak  the 
child  looked  upon  him  and  saw  his 
sorrow.     And  she  placed  her  hand  on 


his  brow,  weeping  for  love  of  the 
unknown  man  whose  countenance  was 
so  sad. 

Then  the  man  stood  up  straight 
before  the  King  and  thanked  him,  for 
he  was  healed  and  his  face  shone  with 
happiness. 

And  a  glad  cry  rang  throughout  the 
land  like  the  sound  of  sweet  music, 
and  behold  in  every  house  was  heard 
the  laughter  of  children  and  tears  of 
women  whose  hearts  were  filled  with 
joy.  Everywhere  the  children  came 
trooping  by  thousands,  and  their  faces 
were  shining  like  gold  and  their  eyes 
like  diamonds. 

And  instead  of  a  cripple  there  stood 
before  the  King  the  most  beautiful 
child  that  ever  was  seen. 

This  is  the  end  of  the  story. 


FROM    KOBE   TO   CANADA 

BY    EDWARD    A.    WICHKR 

T^HE  black  smoke  traileth  o'er  the  heavens  low-bow*d, 
The  leaden  waters  silent  part  and  close 
Where  moveth  from  the  harbour's  smooth  repose 
The  Empress  of  J  apart  ^  serene  and  proud, 
Toward  *Kii  channel,  where  the  currents  crowd. 

Toward  the  fierce  Pacific  just  beyond, 

Where  heave  the  myriad  leagues  of  dark  despond, 
Toward  the  light  that  breaketh  through  the  cloud, 
Toward  the  land  that  gave  me  life  and  light. 

And  hope  and  love  and  every  perfect  good. 
Land  of  the  North,  land  of  ascending  might. 

Dear  homeland,  land  of  God*s  own  fatherhood, 
Far  homeland.     How  the  exile's  heart  is  sore! 
I  look  and  long.     When  shall  I  see  thee  more  ? 


•Pronounced  Kee. 


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WE  are  the  spectators  of  one  of  those 
great  revolutions  which  influ- 
ence the  world  for  all  time.  A  race 
towards  whom  the  white  man  was 
loftily  inclined  to  assume  the  position 
of  arbiter  and  destiny-provider  has 
suddenly  shown  that  it  is  fully  his 
equal  both  on  land  and  sea.  It  may 
be  a  rude  and  barbaric  standard,  but 
it  remains  a  fact,  that  the  nation 
which  is  ready  to  enforce  its  views 
with  men  and  guns  must  be  admitted 
among  the  first  rank  of  the  nations. 
The  Yankee  captains,  who,  fifty  years 
ago,  used  to  set  out  with  a  single  ship 
and  deliver  ultimatums  at  Yeddo,  may 
earnestly  hope  that  these  incidents  are 
forgotten.  Nations  which  are  dis- 
posed to  hold  the  Japanese  as  an 
Ishmaelitish  race,  who  may  be  excluded 
at  the  ports  of  entry  or  refused  equality 


%^^>     yi*w*  t^^mft  To*i(r 


Russia:    "My  mines  are  working  great.      Now  if  I 
could  only  get  a  Japanese  ship  over  one  of  them!" 

— Detroit  News, 

172 


of  rights  with  other  peoples,  will  have 
to  revise  their  rule  of  conduct  towards 
these  competent,  efficient  and  indomi- 
table little  men  of  the  East.  Thanks 
to  the  firmness  of  Sir  Wilfrid  Laurter, 
Canada  has  steadily  refused  to  exclude 
them  from  our  shores.  With  custom- 
ary prevision  the  Canadian  Premier  has 
noted  the  rise  of  these  neighbours 
of  ours  on  the  Pacific,  has  sent  com- 
missioners to  study  their  wants  and 
their  commerce,  and  last  year  made  a 
point  of  making  a  special  display  of 
Canadian  products  and  manufactures 
at  the  first  great  international  exhi- 
bition held  in  Japan.  To  it  he  also 
sent  Mr.  Fisher,  Minister  of  Agricul- 
ture. While  making  these  approaches 
he  has  been  careful  to  veto  all  British 
Columbia  legislation  intended  to  ex- 
clude the  Japanese  from  Canada.  Far 
better  to  let  them  in  hospit- 
ably than  have  them  break- 
ing in  with  their  torpedo 
boats.  As  a  result  of  all 
this  Canada  and  Japan  are 
on  the  most  friendly  terms, 
and  Mr.  Noss^,  the  Japan- 
ese Consul  at  Ottawa,  is  no 
doubt  able  to  report  to  his 
emperor  that  the  Japanese 
cause  has  nowhere  warmer 
partisans  than  among  our 
people. 


Naturally  enough  those 
who  concern  themselves 
with  the  signs  of  the  times 
are  asking  whence  this  '*ar- 
rival"  of  the  Japanese  race 
leads.  The  significance  of 
it  is  not  confined  to  the  peo- 
ple of  Japan.  Is  there  not 
a  possibility  of  a  similar 
evolution  among  the  four 
hundred  millions  on  the 
Asian  mainland?     Not  only 


^^ 


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CURRENT  EVENTS  ABROAD 


'73 


will  they  have  the  example,^ 
but  they  may  even  welcome 
the  leadership  and  mitiative 
of  Japan.  That  there  are 
hundreds  of  thousands  of 
men  in  the  Chinese  Empire 
capable  of  being  turned  into 
as  good  soldiers  as  those 
which  bayonetted  the  braw- 
ny Russians  on  the  Yalu 
can  scarcely  be  questioned. 
The  people  of  the  Chinese 
Empire  are  not  of  one  race, 
and  therefore  they  cannot 
be  spoken  of  as  possessing 
uniform  characteristics.  The 
Mongol  of  the  north  with 
bis  friendliness  towards 
strangers,  his  talkativeness 
and  love  of  showing  off,  is 
surely  the  very  stuff  of 
which  soldiers  are  made,  whatever  the 
silent,  suspicious,  secretive  Chinese 
of  the  south  may  be.  Whether  the 
Chinese  like  it  or  not,  and  whether 
Europeans  like  it  or  not,  Japan  in- 
evitably assumes  the  leadership  of  the 
East.  China  will  be  forced  to  turn  to 
her  in  any  moment  of  perplexity  or 
danger,  and  her  island  neighbour  will 
accept  the  responsibility  with  all  its 
risks  and  vista  of  possibilities. 


FRANCE  AND   RUSSIA 


France  :   '*Oh  give  me,  oh  give  me  my  millions  back 
again.  *  * — Nebehpalter, 


ago  when  Britain,  Holland  and  the 
United  States  were  threatening  and 
coaxing  Japan  to  open  her  doors,  no 
one  could  have  guessed  the  transmu- 
tations which  now  we  see.  While  the 
influence  of  Japan  will  undoubtedly  be 
cast  against  the  pretensions  of  nations 
intruding  on  Chinese  territory,  it  will 
also  just  as  surely  be  employed  against 
Boxer  uprisings,  brigandage,  exclusive- 
ness,   retroaction    and    retrogression. 


Is  there  anything  to  be  de- 
plored in  this  ?  We  of  the 
English  races  are  only  con- 
cerned that  China  shall  not 
be  dismembered,  shall  open 
her  doors  and  shall  preserve 
order  throughout  her  bord- 
ers. In  these  aims  Japan 
sympathizes.  Japan  has 
flourished  because  Western 
progressiveness  and  effici- 
ency have  become  her  ideal. 
Her  influence  will  be  thrown 
in  the  direction  of  making 
them  the  ideal  of  China  also. 
Just  how  difficult  it  may  be 
to  bring  about  such  a 
change  we,  in  our  ignor- 
ance of  what  is  behind  those 
oblique  eyes,  can  only 
vaguely  guess.     Fifty  years 


TIBET'S    DILEMMA 


"HOW   HAPPY   COULD   I    BE  WITH   EITHER,      ETC. 

Russian:    **You  leave  her  alone;    she  is  mine,  and 
mine  only  and  wholly!" 
Indian  John  Bull  :   "  That  remains  to  be  seen  \ " 

— Hindi  Punch 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


THE  BRITISH  BUDGET 


THE    RECKONING 

Mr.  Bull:.  ** You're  a  charming  companion,  my  dear  Arthur; 
but  I  really  don't  think  I  can  let  you  order  the  dinner  again." 

—Punch 


An  Asian  Monroe  doctrine  may  be 
proclaimed,  by  which  the  status  quo 
will  not  be  disturbed,  but  which  will 
forbid  fresh  aggressions  or  the  en- 
largement of  the  existing  European 
footholds  on  the  Asian  coast. 


The  consummateness  of  Japanese 
strategy  and  the  superhuman  courage 
with  which  it  is  being  carried  out,  has 
challenged  the  admiration  of  the  world. 
The  only  points  which  one  would 
be  inclined  to  question  is  the  policy 
which  entailed  on  thousands  of  men 
the  exhausting  marches  from  Seoul  to 
Ping-yang  over  the  execrable  Corean 
roads.     The    ice-bound    state    of    the 


coast,  the  necessity 
of  impressing  the 
Coreans,  the  bad  ef- 
fects of  inaction, 
might  all  be  put  for- 
ward as  reasons  for 
this  decimating 
march.  They  will 
hardly  be  felt  to  be 
sufficient,  and  if  the 
troops  were  those  of 
a  European  power  in 
command  of  the  sea 
this  useless  expendi- 
ture of  flesh  and  blood 
would  have  been 
much  condemned. 
The  retort  can  of 
course  be  made  that 
whatever  the  trials  of 
the  march  may  have 
been,  the  troops  were 
able  to  send  the 
enemy  to  the  right 
about  when  the  test- 
ing-day arrived.  The 
sea  operations  before 
Port  Arthur,  the  time- 
liness of  the  arrival 
of  the  army  landed  at 
Pitsewo,  the  imme- 
diate subsequent  iso- 
lation of  Port  Arthur, 
the  persistency  of 
Gen.  Kuroki's  divi- 
sions in  the  pursuit 
of  Gen.  Sassulitch's 
beaten  army,  all  show  the  almost 
daemonic  courage  and  energy  of  the 
new  people.  Thespirit  of  self-sacrifice 
exhibited  in  blocking  the  entrance  to 
the  harbour  at  Port  Arthur  is  un- 
exampled, unless  it  can  be  paralleled 
among  Mahommedan  peoples,  who 
see  the  nymphs  of  Paradise  beckoning 
to  the  heroes  who  die  for  the  faith 
on  bloody  battlefields. 

How  is  it  going  to  end  ?  People  will 
have  difficulty  in  believing  that  a 
mighty  military  power  like  Russia  can 
be  overwhelmed  by  an  antagonist  so 
much  inferior  in  population,  wealth 
and  resources.     Indeed,  we  all  realize 


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CURRENT  EVENTS  ABROAD 


'75 


that  there  must  be  some  earth-shaking 
conflicts  before  any  acknowledgment 
of  defeat  could  be  wrung  from  the 
proud  and  arrogant  Muscovite.  It  can 
scarcely  be  held  even  by  the  friends  of 
Russia  that  her  business  has  been 
managed  well.  Fallen  human  nature 
is  too  apt  to  enjoy  the  humiliation  of 
that  pride  which  goeth  before  a  fall. 
During  the  negotiations  Japan  was 
treated  with  the  easy  superciliousness 
that  would  have  been  accorded  to  the 
representatives  of  some  of  the  wander- 
ing Tartar  tribes  that  have  succes- 
sively been  brought  into  the  Russian 
system  in  the  march  across  Asia. 
Contemptuous  delay  and  immovable 
and  resistless  ponderosity  were  ex- 
pected to  impress  and  subdue  the  little 
people.  But  to  the  giant's  evident  sur- 
prise and  dismay  he  finds  liis  pigmy 
antagonist  angered  by  the  one  and 
not  intimidated  by  the  other.  Since 
the  opening  of  hostilities,  we  have 
had  from  the  Russian  side  a  great 
deal  of  bluster  and  a  great  deal 
of  bounce  about  signing  treaties  at 
Tokio;  from  the  other  not  a  word,  but 
an  amazing  lot  of  deeds.  The  situ- 
ation suggests  several  images  in  nature 
--a  great  blundering,  lumbering  buffalo 
with  an  up-to-date  wolf  alternately  at 
his  heels  and  at  his  head;  or  a  pufFed- 
up  whale  spouting  and  blowing  while 
an  acrobatic  sword-fish  whips  his  bony 
rapier  into  him  every  few  seconds. 

Unquestionably  the  main  Russian 
troops  will  be  forced  to  retire  on 
Harbin.  It  is  quite  unlikely  that  the 
Japanese  will  follow  them  there,  unless 
it  turns  out  that  the  tales  of  Russia's 
strength  in  effective  troops  have  been 
as  much  exaggerated  as  everything 
else.  If  Russia  can  assemble  half  a 
million  men  there  within  the  next  few 
weeks  it  would  be  folly  to  go  up 
against  them.  Japan's  game  then  is 
to  choose  an  impregnable  position  at 
some  convenient  place  between  Harbin 
and  Port  Arthur,  and  invite  her  enemy 


to  come  and  see  her.  She  can  afford 
to  wait  now  much  better  than  Russia 
can.  The  latter  will  have  Port  Arthur 
and  its  starving  garrison,  battered 
every  once  in  a  while  by  a  hostile  fleet 
in  the  offing,  on  her  nerves.  She  will 
have  moreover  a  disillusionized  and 
murmuring  Asia  in  her  rear,  the  very 
stomachs  of  her  army  in'  daily  depend- 
ence that  no  unfriendly  hand  will  blow 
up  a  bridge  or  culvert  along  the  500 
miles  of  railway  that  traverses  the  soil 
of  those  that  hate  her.  The  position 
is  a  desperate  one,  from  which  only  the 
mightiest  efforts  which  a  country  has 
ever  put  forth  can  rescue  her.  Has 
she  the  financial  resources  to  meet 
such  a  crisis  ?  That  is  a  matter  of 
much  doubt.  In  view  of  it  all  I  will 
venture  to  predict  that  should  her  gen- 
erals score  anything  that  looked  like 
a  rehabilitation  of  Russian  prowess, 
France  would  soon  be  conveniently  on 
hand  with  offers  of  mediation. 

The  visit  of  the  King  and  Queen  to 
Ireland  has  been  cordially  received  by 
the  people.  The  feeling  between  the 
two  countries  is  undoubtedly  better 
than  it  has  been  for  years.  There  is 
more  promise  in  that  fact  for  the  ulti- 
mate attainment  of  what  thousands  of 
Irishmen  yearn  for  than  in  any  other 
one  circumstance.  Why  do  English- 
men refuse  the  boon  of  self-govern- 
ment to  Ireland  ?  Because  they  be- 
lieve the  power  would  be  used  to  sever 
the  political  tie  altogether.  As  soon 
as  this  conviction  leaves  the  English- 
man's mind  his  reason  for  withholding 
that  for  which  the  Irishman  craves 
will  disappear.  Home  Rule  would 
not  be  synonymous  with  separation 
if  Irishmen  were  content  to  remain 
within  the  Empire.  Once  he  felt  he 
was  free  to  go  or  stay  he  would  per- 
ceive that  even  his  material  interests 
pointed  out  that  it  would  be  better  to 
stay.  We  detest  things,  however 
good,  when  we  are  compelled  to 
have  them. 

John  A,  E'wan 


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\^^rAN 


H.d  I   t 


GO,  LOVELY  BIRD 


(The  *'  bullfinch  hat  "  is  in  evidence and 

a  leading  ladies'  newspaper  tells  its  readers 
that  this  is  to  be  a  bird  season. — Daily  Paper.) 

Go,  lovely  bird, 
Speed  from  my  lady  warily, 

For  she  hath  heard 
That  finches  dainty  decking  be, 
And  her  sweet  charms  mean  death  to  thee! 

Cares  she  that's  young, 
And  seeks  to  have  her  graces  spied. 

That  thou  hast  sung 
In  woodlands  where  the  violets  hide  ? 
She  loves  thee  better  stuffed  and  dyed! 

For  at  the  sight 
Of  ruffled  breast  and  stiffened  limb 

Her  eyes  grow  bright. 
A  wreath  of  death  will  bravely  trim 
The  circlet  of  my  lady's  rim! 

So  fly!     For  she 
Would  claim  in  service  all  things  rare, 

Including  thee. 
And  thy  short  life  she  will  not  spare 
When  Fashion  says  that  thou  art  fair! 

—Punch, 


JUNE  used  to  be,  as  from  time  im- 
memorial the  impassioned  poets 
have  told  us,  the  month  of  roses  and 
rare  days  and  sweet  communings  with 
nature,  but  now  this  month  of  months 
is  associated  in  our  minds  with  another 
idea,  and  **the  month  of  weddings" 
has  become  a  synonym  for  **  the  leafy 
month  of  June." 

No  longer  do  the  covers  of  the 
ladies'  magazines  bloom  this  month 
with  many-hued  roses.  They  have 
long  since  been  swept  aside  to  give 
place  to  bewitching  June  brides  in  all 
sizes  and  poses. 


Not  long  ago  I  came  across  the  fol- 
lowing rather  interesting  paragraph  in 
an  old  English  paper: — 

**  I  suppose  there  are  few  people  nowadays 
who  do  not  know  the  origin  of  the  word 
*■  honeymoon,'  or  the  month  of  honey,  which 
can  be  traced  back  to  the  ancient  Teutons, 
inhabitants  of  Northern  Germany,  whose 
custom  it  was,  whenever  there  was  a  wed- 
ding  in  immediate  prospect,  to  make  a  special 
brew  in  honour  of  the  marriage  festivities. 
This  mead,  or  metheglin,  was  drunk  for  a 
period  of  thirty  days  after  the  celebration  of 
the  wedding;  after  that  time  the  beer  became, 
in  a  measure,  undrinkable,  turning  sour  and 
bitter.  Of  course,  in  some  cases  it  kept 
sweet  and  wholesome  a  little  longer,  and 
sometimes  it  became  a  little  bit  'oif'  before 
the  thirty  days  had  expired.  Like  many 
other  things  besides  marriage,  it  was  too 
sweet  in  the  beginning,  and  fatally  bitter  In 
the  ending!" 

With  the  revival  of  the  full  skirts 
and  short-waisted  gowns  of  the  early 
Victorian  period  comes  a  revival  also 
of  the  dainty  lawn  and  muslin  under- 
sleeves  which  our  mothers  and  grand- 
mothers embroidered  long  ago  for 
their  adornment.  They  will  doubtless 
masquerade  to-day  under  a  more  pre- 
tentious name  than  plain  undersleeve, 
since  these  be  times  when  there  is 
much  in  a  name,  and  no  self-respecting 
society  reporter  dreams  of  designating 
a  skirt  otherwise  than  a  jupe^  while  a 
plain  **  dress- waist"  is  unknown  in 
her  vocabulary. 

But  whatever  it  may  be  called,  the 
undersleeve  is  here,  and  into  the  trunk 
of  the  summer  girl  who  is  given  to  fine 
needlework  will  go  a  supply  of  sheer 
lawn  and  linen  destined  to  be  converted 


176 


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177 


MURRAY  VILLAGE — ONE  OF   THE   PICTURESQUE    SPOTS   ON   THE   LOWER  ST.    LAWRENCE. 

PHOTO  BY  NOTMAN,   MONTREAL 


during  dolce  far  niente  days  into  these 
dainty  little  articles. 

Fashion  decrees  that  they  are  to  be 
decorated  with  the  hand  embroidery 
which  our  grandmothers  did  so  ex- 
quisitely, and  there  is  much  ransacking 
by  ambitious  maidens  of  grandmother's 
treasure-chest  for  old  silver  embroidery 
stilettos,  and  yellowed  linen  sleeves 
which  may  be  used  as  patterns  for 
Fashion's  latest  fancy. 

Another  Arts  and  Handicrafts  Ex- 
hibition has  been  held  recently  in 
Toronto  under  the  stimulus  of  the 
Woman's  Art  Association  of  Canada. 

Since  this  Association  first  interested 
itself  in  the  various  branches  of  hand- 
work which  are  done  by  the  women 
who  have  come  to  live  amongst  us 
from  many  different  countries,  it  is  in- 
teresting and  gratifying  to  note  the 
great  improvement  in  the  work  which 
is  now  being  done  compared  with  that 
of  a  few  years  ago. 

With  the  careful   instruction  as  to 

designs   and   colouring,    the  practical 

help  with  regard  to  obtaining  proper 

dyes  and  a  market  for  saleable  articles, 

6 


and  the  constant  encouragement  being 
given  by  the  Association  to  the  various 
women  hand-workers  in  different  parts 
of  our  country,  there  is  no  reason  why 
Canadian  arts  and  handicrafts  should 
not  on  some  not  too  far- distant  day 
attain  to  as  high  a  standard  of  excel- 
lence as  the  work  of  the  skilled 
**  craftswomen  "  of  the  old-world 
countries.  ^ 

Now  that  once  more  the  **  spring- 
cleaning  "  is  an  accomplished  fact,  and 
the  furs  and  winter  garments  are  safe- 
ly stowed  away  under  the  protection 
of  camphor  balls  or  other  similar  evil- 
smelling  compound,  in  whose  neigh- 
bourhood no  self-respecting  moth 
would  deign  to  linger,  it  is  time  for 
the  busy  Martha  of  the  household  to 
turn  her  attention  to  the  question  of 
where  the  family  will  go  for  its  sum- 
mer outing. 

Before  deciding  hastily  that  one 
really  must  seek  mountain  air  in  the 
Adirondacks  or  White  Mountains,  or 
that  it  is  positively  necessary  to  fill 
one's  lungs  with  the  salt  breezes  that 
fan  the  coasts  of  Maine  and  Massa- 
chusetts, would  it  not  be  rather  a  good 


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178 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


idea  to  ascertain  first  if  it  is  not  pos- 
sible to  find  in  Canada  both  mountain 
and  sea  resorts  where  the  air  is  as 
salubrious  and  invigorating  as  that  of 
Maine  or  New  Hampshire  ? 

Not  long  ago  a  girl  who  was  going 
out  to  the  Pacific  Coast  for  the  first 
time,  said:  ''  I  wonder  why  it  is  that 
people  are  always  so  anxious  to  fly  to 
other  lands  before  seeing  anything  of 
their  own.  Summer  after  summer  our 
whole  family  troops  off  to  the  conti* 
nent,  and  yet  until  this  year  my  knowl- 
edge of  Canada  was  confined  to  To- 
ronto and  Montreal  and  what  I  have 
occasionally  read  of  it  in  C.P.R.  guide 
books  or  an  illustrated  magazine  arti- 
cle. People  I  have  met  abroad  have 
often  embarrassed  me  by  talking  about 
the  beautiful  scenery  in  different  parts 
of  Canada  of  which — to  my  shame  be 
it  said! — I  knew  nothing.  Hereafter, 
for  some  years  at  least,  my  travelling 
is  going  to  be  done  in  my  own  coun- 
try. I  never  dreamed  that  there  was 
such  wonderful  variety  in  Canadian 
scenery  —  such  grandeur  and  such 
magnificence,  such  scenes  of  turbu- 
lence and  riotous  splendour,  such  idyl- 
lic pictures  of  pastoral  peace  and  Wat- 
tean-like  daintiness.'* 

The  train  was  swooping  down  into 
Kicking  Horse  Canyon  as  she  spoke, 
and  a  young  Irishman  who  had  been 
hangi  ng  half  out  of  the  car  window,  drew 
in  his  head  a  moment  to  declare  im- 
pressively: **  Well,  it's  just  five  years 
to-day  since  I  left  Ireland,  and  in  that 
time  I  have  been  pretty  well  over  the 
world — Germany,  Switzerland,  Spain, 
Africa,  Borneo,  Ceylon — all  sorts  of 
places,  but  I  have  never  anywhere  seen 
anything  to  equal  this.  Yes,  it*s 
worth  a  year  of  a  man's  life  to  take 
this  trip!"  and  with  the  last  word  out 
went  his  head  again. 

For  those  who  prefer  quiet  scenes 
of  lake  and  stream  and  woodland, 
there  are  the  Thousand  Islands,  all  the 
attractive  spots  in  the  ever-popular 
Muskoka  district,  the  Kawartha  Lake 
country,  Massanoga,  and  the  countless 
other  summer  resorts  in  Ontario  ;  for 
those  who  long  for  high  altitudes  and 
mountains  there  are  the  superb  Rockies 


and  the  other  ranges  of  western  Ca- 
nada ;  for  the  sea-seeker  there  is  an 
embarras  des  richesses  in  the  myriad 
charming  seaside  resorts  in  the  Mari- 
time Provinces  ;  while  for  those  who 
would  fain  combine  sea  and  mountain 
air  there  are  all  the  delightful  little 
French-Canadian  watering-places  on 
the  St.  Lawrence  below  Quebec,  where 
the  salt  air  from  the  River  and  the 
breezes  from  the  Laurentians  meet  and 
mingle  their  health-giving  properties. 

Surely  with  such  a  rich  variety  and 
such  a  wealth  of  places  to  choose  from, 
one  should  not  find  it  difficult  to  spend 
a  thoroughly  delightful  summer  in 
Canada,  where  one  could,  while  stor- 
ing up  strength  for  the  winter,  be 
learning  at  the  same  time  much  of  the 
charms  and  natural  resources  of  one's 
own  country.  ^ 

Mrs.  Langtry,  whose  youthful  grace 
and  beauty  have  been  the  wonder  of 
her  sex  through  several  decades,  has 
been  talking  recently  on  the  ever  in- 
teresting subject  of  the  retention  of 
health  and  beauty.  Her  remarks  are 
worth  considering. 

''To  a  great  extent,"  she  declared 
to  the  newspaper  woman  who  was  in- 
terviewing her,  *'  a  woman's  beauty  is 
measured  by  her  vitality.  The  key- 
stone of  physical  beauty  is  perfect 
health.  Work,  sunshine,  exercise, 
water  and  soap,  plain,  nourishing  food, 
lots  of  fresh  air  and  a  happy,  content- 
ed spirit — there,  as  you  say,  *  Honest 
and  true* — is  my  working  rule  for 
youth,  youthful  spirits  and  youthful 
looks.  But  the  profoundest  secret  of 
my  keeping  young  is  that  I  have  learn- 
ed to  keep  my  thoughts  young  .... 
I  believe  in  the  importance  of  pure 
food  simply  cooked,  but  pure  air  in 
unlimited  quantities  and  knowing  how 
to  fill  the  lungs  with  oxygen,  not  only 
while  doing  breathing  exercises,  but 
every  moment  of  one's  life,  waking  or 
sleeping,  is  the  vital  acquirement.  .  .  . 
Whatever  a  woman's  circumstances 
are  she  cannot  look  her  best  unless 
she  has  learned  to  breathe  correctly. 
Until  a  woman  has  learned  that  her 
spirits,  her  health,  her  amiability   and 


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179 


hell's  gate,  FRASER  canyon — A  MAGNIFICENT  SCENE   IN   THE   ROCKY   MOUNTAINS 
PHOTO  PV  EDWARDS  BROS.,  VANCOUVER 


her  good  looks  depend  upon  her  using 
her  lungs  to  their  fullest  extent  she  has 
not  learned  her  most  important  life 
lesson.  Without  money  and  without 
price  she  can  learn  the  surest  way  to 
acquire  a  clear  skin,  bright  eyes  and 

youthful    face I  look   back 

on  my  pictures  showing  my  hour-glass 
figure  with  positive  amazement.  How 
could  I  ever  have  thought  I  was  get- 
ting my  share  of  life  in  these  prison 
corsets!  The  greatest  difficulty  the 
woman  who  has  worn  the  tightly  laced 
corset  encounters  in  her  efforts  to 
breathe  correctly  is  through  the  im- 
pairment of  the  waist  and  abdominal 
muscles,  which  have  been  for  years 
unused.  .  .  .  Deep  breathing  should 
not  be  a  matter  of  five  minutes  a  day. 
It  should  be  continuous;  but  until  one 
has  learned  how,  it  is  better  to  make 
a  practice  of  regularly  going  through 
several  deep  breathing  movements  two 
or  three  times  a  day.  .  .  .  Walking  is 
the  best  exercise  for  women.  It  brings 
into  play  every  muscle  without  strain- 
ing, and  is  one  that  poor  women  as 
well  as  rich  can  take.  The  girl  who 
is  in  the  habit  of  walking  is  easily  mis- 
tress   of    the    drawing-room    graces. 


She  is  free  in  movement  because  she 
has  had  plenty  of  the  best  exercise.  1 
sleep  with  windows  wide  open  and  all 
heat  turned  off.  We  can't  get  too 
much  fresh  air.  Thete  is  no  sleep  so 
sweet,  so  refreshing,  as  that  which 
follows  a  busy  day  spent  in  happy,  ex- 
hilarating work." 

Mrs.  Langtry  is  right,  and  the  wo- 
men of  the  city  and  the  town  are  be- 
ginning to  learn  the  lesson.  In  Eng- 
land they  learned  it  some  time  since. 

• 
MOTHER 

BY  ZONA   GALE 

I  wish  I  had  said  more.     So  long,  so  long 
About  your  simple  tasks  I  watched  you,  dear; 
I  knew  you  craved  the  words  you  did  not  hear; 
I   knew   your  spirit,    brave  and   chaste  and 

strong-, 
Was  wistful  that  it  might  not  do  the  wrong ; 
And  all  its  wistfulness  and  all  its  fear 
Were  in  your  eyes  whenever  I  was  near. 
And  yet  you  always  went  your  way  with  song. 

0  prodigal  of  smiles  for  other  eyes 

1  led  my  life.     At  last  there  came  a  day 
When  with  some  careless  praise  I  turned  away 
From  what  you  fashioned  for  a  sweet  surprise. 
Ah,  now  it  is  too  late  for  me  to  pour 

My   vase  of  myrrh — would   God  I  had  said 
more ! — Selected, 


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PARTY  FIDELITY 

IHILE  Professor  Goldwin 
Smith  is  uttering  protests 
against  the  party  system 
and  its  evil  effects  upon 
government  policies,  the 
Parliament  of  Canada  has  been  giving 
a  stirring  example  of  party  fidelity 
in  connection  with  the  Grand  Trunk 
Pacific  Railway  proposition.  Before 
the  Bill  was  brought  forward,  resolu- 
tions endorsing  an  amended  agree- 
ment previously  entered  into  by  the 
Government  were  introduced.  The 
debate  on  these  resolutions  covers 
403  pages  of  Hansardy  containing 
604,500  words.  And  yet  that  debate 
did  not  result  in  changing  a  word  in 
the  resolution,  a  line  in  the  contract, 
or  the  vote  of  a  single  member.  The 
country  would  have  been  much  richer, 
in  fact,  had  the  resolution  been  passed 
without  discussion. 

Viewing  this  incident  dispassion- 
ately, one  cannot  but  conclude  that 
debates  in  the  House  of  Commons 
under  present  conditions  are  a  farce. 
The  Government  whips  its  followers 
into  line  by  saying  that  the  policy  it 
has  laid  down  must  be  upheld  or  there 
•will  be  no  distribution  of  patronage  by 
the  members  who  oppose  it.  And, 
after  all,  what  is  the  position  of  a 
member  of  the  ruling  party  without 
patronage?  The  money  to  be  spent 
in  his  riding  is  divided  and  the  offices 
-distributed  on  the  advice  of  a  local 
politician  who  has  ambitions  concern- 
ing the  member*s  shoes.  True,  Mr. 
Blair  opposed  the  Grand  Trunk  Pacific 
project  and  received  a  Government 
position,  but  the  circumstances  were 
exceptional. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Opposition 
speeches  were  all  along  one  line, 
all    breathing    forth  the    misfortunes 


which  must  follow  the  building  of  a 
new  railway  on  such  lines  as  the  Gov- 
ernment laid  down.  There  was  little 
honesty  in  the  criticism,  no  desire 
to  give  the  Government  credit  for 
what  was  good  in  the  bargain,  only 
a  combined  attempt  to  beat  a  noisy 
drum. 

This  party  fidelity  extended  to  the 
newspapers.  The  Conservative  jour- 
nals throughout  the  country  echoed  the 
destructive  words  of  the  devoted  mem- 
bers who  support  Mr.  Borden;  while 
the  Liberal  journals  boldly  proclaimed 
that  the  wisdom  of  the  Government 
was  the  wisdom  of  High  Heaven,  and 
that  not  one  word  of  the  bargain  was 
faulty,  not  one  feature  open  to  a 
moment's  discussion.  It  does  not 
follow  that  one  side  was  wrong  and 
one  side  right.  It  is  not  certain  either 
that  the  Grand  Trunk  Bargain  was 
improperly  conceived,  or  that  it  was 
the  best  that  could  have  been  secured. 
It  is  not  apparent  that  wisdom  has  her 
home  among  one  party  or  the  other. 
The  conclusion  to  be  drawn  from  the 
episode  is  that  party  fidelity  is  destruc- 
tive of  common-sense  and  of  a  desire  to 
find  out  what  is  best  in  policies  enun- 
ciated by  governments  or  to  discover 
what  is  honest  and  forcible  in  opposi- 
tion criticism. 

There  are  some  members  of  parlia- 
ment, some  publicists  and  some  jour- 
nalists who  are  struggling  against  this 
undue  exercise  of  party  fidelity. 
Notable  among  these  independent  in- 
fluences are  the  The  Weekly  Sun  and 
The  News  of  Toronto.  In  its  issue  of 
April  23rd,  The  News  objects  to  seven 
features  of  the  Grand  Trunk  Pacific 
bargain,  the  chief  of  which  are  the  lack 
of  government  oversight  concerning 
the  first  mortgage  bonds  and  the  price 
at  which  the  common  stock  is  to  be 

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PEOPLE  AND  AFFAIRS 


i8i 


sold  at,  and  the  lack  of  a  provision 
making  the  Abitibi  to  Moncton  sec- 
tions contingent  on  the  finding  of  a 
suitable  route.  Having  thus  explained 
its  objections,  The  News  goes  on  to 
say  that  the  new  railway  *'  ensures  to 
our  country  the  broad,  simple  and  im- 
mensely important  advantage  of  a 
second  link  between  the  East  and  the 
West.  .  .  .  New  areas  of  stupen- 
dous size  and  of  incalculable  possibili- 
ties will  be  opened  for  development. 
.  .  .  We  will  gain  a  new  footing 
on  the  Pacific,  and  the  Pacific  is  the 
ocean  of  the  future.  .  .  .  The 
West  will  gain  a  new  outlet."  Then 
this  admirable  summing  up  of  the 
whole  question  is  ended  with  the  fol- 
lowing paragraph  : 

*'Itis  worth  while  paying  for  benefits  so 
enormous.  It  is  sound  policy  to  pledge  the 
country's  credit  to  help  so  pregnant  an  enter- 
prise. The  pledging  may  be  done  in  a  reck- 
less and  unbusinesslike  manner,  and  yet  in 
the  broad  outlines  be  wisely  done.  Some  un- 
deserved fortunes  may  be  made,  some  un- 
necessary burdens  may  be  laid  upon  the 
people,  the  freight  rates  may  be  more  burden- 
some than  is  justifiable.  But  these  drawbacks 
constitute  a  price  which  the  country  is  able 
to  pay.  We  disapprove  many  of  the  details, 
and  approve  the  general  lines  of  the  bargain." 

It  is  a  pity  that  party  politics  could 
not  be  carried  on  in  the  admirable 
spirit  displayed  in  this  editorial.  Such 
a  state  of  affairs  is  easily  possible  if 
Sir  Wilfrid  Laurier  and  Mr.  Borden, 
and  those  in  like  positions,  were  to 
loose  the  reins  which  they  now  hold  so 
tightly  over  their  followers.  It  would 
also  be  possible  if  the  journalists  of 
Canada  were  to  place  the  good  of  the 
country  before  the  success  of  the  re- 
spective political  parties.  Why  should 
Canada  not  have  a  parliament  of  free- 
men instead  of  a  parliament  of  party- 
bound  slaves  and  conscienceless  ad- 
venturers? Why  should  men,  who  in 
private  and  business  life  bear  the 
marks  of  honour  and  dignity,  walk 
into  the  House  of  Commons  and  be- 
come as  brass-mouthed  graphophones 
and  voting  puppets  ? 

The  party  system  may  be  good  in 
the  main,  but  in  Canada  we  are  suffer- 
ing from  the  abuses  not  the  uses  of  it. 


Every  party  worker  admits  the  abuses 
but  finds  it  easier  to  go  with  the  tide 
than  against  it.  The  result  is  lament- 
able. 

PROHIBIT  MATCHES  AND  ELEC- 
TRICITY 


N' 


row  that  the  Dominion  Alliance 
has  found  that  the  total  prohibi- 
tion of  the  liquor  traffic  is  an  impossi- 
bility for  the  present,  it  might  turn  its 
attention  to  the  prohibition  of  matches 
and  electricity. 

On  April  23rd,  children  playing  with 
matches  in  Berlin  Ont.,  caused  the 
death  of  a  two-year-old  girl  whose 
clothing  caught  fire.  On  the  same 
day  in  the  city  of  St.  Catharines,  a 
little  boy,  two  and  a  half  years  of  age, 
climbed  out  of  bed,  secured  some 
matches,  set  his  clothing  on  fire,  and 
was  burned  to  death.  These  are  not 
unusual  occurrences.  Hundreds  of 
lives  are  lost  annually  because  of 
matches.  Surely  it  is  time  that  the 
prohibition  of  matches  was  a  feature 
of  our  legislation. 

On  the  evening  of  Tuesday,  April 
19th,  an  electric  wire  set  fire  to  a 
building  in  the  city  of  Toronto  and 
destroyed  fourteen  million  dollars' 
worth  of  property,  throwing  six  thou- 
sand people  temporarily  out  of  work. 
Almost  every  week  electricity  is  setting 
fire  to  something,  or  causing  the  death 
of  a  lineman  or  other  unfortunate  who 
comes  in  contact  with  the  deadly  cur- 
rent. Why  not  prohibit  the  produc- 
tion or  use  of  electricity  ? 

He  was  a  wise  man  who  said,  *'  Be 
sure  you  are  right ;  then  think  it  over.'^ 
I  quite  agree  with  those  who  believe 
in  the  total  prohibition  of  the  liquor 
traffic  ;  but  I  have  thought  it  over, 
with  the  result  that  I  believe  that  it  is 
impossible  at  this  stage  of  civilization. 
People  must  first  be  taught  that  whis- 
key is  harmful  when  taken  as  a  bever- 
age, that  its  use  should  be  exceptional. 
Indulgence  in  strong  drink  is  a  sign  of 
weakness,  and  all  the  boys  and  girls  in 
this  country  should  have  that  fact  im- 
pressed on  them  every  day  in  the 
week,  every  week  in  the  year.     Edu- 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


HILDA    D.    OAKELEY 

Warden  Royal  Victoria  College  for  Women  and  first  female  member  of  McGiU's 

Arts  Faculty. 


cate   the  people,  and  prohibition   will 
come  gradually  and  naturally. 


WOMEN  AND  UNIVERSITIES 

IT  is  not  so  many  years  since  women 
were  admitted  to  Canadian  Uni- 
versities on  an  equal  basis  with  men. 
To-day,  many  of  them  are  found  in  the 


classes  of  all  the  larger  institutions. 
They  do  fairly  well  in  the  classes  and 
occasionally  find  a  brief  period  of  use- 
fulness as  fellow  or  assistant.  Now 
McGill  University  has  gone  a  step 
farther  and  made  the  Warden  of  the 
Royal  Victoria  College  for  Women  a 
member  of  the  Faculty  of  Arts.  This 
is  a  notable  triumph  for  Miss  Oakeley 
and  the  weaker  sex. 


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Hilda  Diana  Oakeley  who  has 
achieved  this  notable  innovation  is  a 
new-comer  to  this^  country,  and  the 
credit  therefore  lies  rather  to  English 
education  than  to  Canadian.  She  is  a 
daughter  of  Sir  Evelyn  Oakeley,  form- 
erly chief  inspector  of  training  colleges 
in  England  and  Wales.  From  a  Man- 
chester School  she  went  to  Somerville 
College,  Oxford,  whence  she  gradu- 
ated a  Bachelor  in  Arts  with  honours, 
and  a  first-class  in  Liters  Humaniores. 
She  then  spent  some  time  in  political 
science  and  constitutional  history,  in 
the  meantime  lecturing  on  logic  and 
engaging  in  other  educational  work. 
In  1899,  she  was  awarded  a  research 
studentship  at  the  London  School  of 
Economics,  but  resigned  it  to  come  to 
Canada  to  take  up  her  present  work. 
McGill  gave  her  an  M.A.  in  1900,  and 
now  bestows  this  further  honour  upon 
her. 

McGill  has  gone  farther  than  any 
other  Canadian  University  in  providing 
for  its  women  students,  although  Vic- 
toria College,  Toronto,  recently  added 
a  splendid  residence,  Annesley  Hall. 
This  will  shortly  be  supplemented  by 
a  new  residence  for  women  which  will 
probably  be  a  part  of  University  Col- 
lege. Now  that  Trinity  College  has 
become  a  part  of  the  University  of 
Toronto,  St.  Hilda's  will  probably  be 
used  as  a  women's  residence.  Thus 
shortly  the  University  of  Toronto  will 
have  three  residences  for  its  women, 
Annesley  Hall,  St.  Hilda's,  and  the 
new  one  that  is  to  be  erected  shortly. 

MORMONISM 

THE  Christian  Guardian  does  not 
like  the  article  on  Mormonism  by 
James  L.  Hughes  which  appeared  in 
the  May  Canadian  Magazine.  Among 
other  things,  it  says: 

*  *  Neither  of  the  *  peculiar  institu- 
tion '  of  polygamy,  nor  of  the  hideous 
superstition  of  '  sacraments  for  the 
dead,'  nor  of  any  other  of  the  well- 
known  immoralities  and  blasphemies 
of  Mormonism  has  Inspector  Hughes 
a  single  word  of  deprecation.  The 
culture,  the  music,  the  woman  suffrage. 


the  education,  the  zeal,  the  wealth,  the 
amusements  of  the  Mormons,  inspire 
his  pen  and  fill  his  paper.  But  there  is 
another  side,  and  a  terrible  one.  Those 
who  are  infinitely  better  qualified  to 
judge  of  Mormonism  and  its  results  than 
Mr.  Hughes;  those  who  have  known  it 
not  as  flattered  visitors  for  a  week,  but 
as  long  residents  in  its  centres  and 
profound  students  of  its  workings, 
have  far  other  tales  to  tell.  There  are 
families  in  this  very  Canada  of  ours 
broken-homed  and  broken-hearted  be- 
cause of  this  thing  which  is  so  bepraised 
in  the  article  before  us. 

'*  For  many  long  years  the  leading 
statesmen,  educationists  and  religious 
workers  in  the  United  States  have 
recognized  Mormonism  as  one  of  the 
greatest  menaces  to  the  political  and 
social  well-being  of  that  country*  We 
are  surprised  that  a  high  educational 
functionary  of  Canada  shows  no  more 
sympathy  with  them,  and  with  the  vast 
majority  of  the  people  of  the  great 
republic,  in  their  efforts  to  rid  them- 
selves of  what  they  believe  to  be  a 
social  pest-house  and  a  source  ot  moral 
contagion  and  national  danger  and 
disgrace." 

IMMIGRATION 

The  opening  months  of  1904  have 
witnessed  a  continuation  of  the  immi- 
gration movement  which  last  year 
brought  us  129,000  new  citizens.  The 
Anglo-Saxon  race  is  always  expand- 
ing. It  has  spilled  over  into  America 
until  the  United  States  is  comfortably 
filled ;  it  is  now  overflowing  into 
Canada.  We  have  six  millions  of 
people  to-day.  Mr.  Lightall  estimates 
that  we  have  room  for  liine  hundred 
millions.  The  number  required  is 
therefore  894,000,000.  If  they  come 
at  the  same  rate  as  in  1903,  six  thou- 
sand years  will  be  required  to  secure 
them.  Even  if  we  received  a  million  a 
year,  it  would  be  nearly  nine  centuries 
before  the  country  is  filled  up.  In  view 
of  these  figures,  the  labour  unions  and 
trade  councils  need  have  no  worry  about 
the  country  filling  up  too  rapidly. 

John  A.   Cooper 

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CONCERNING  THE  HONOUR  OF 
BOOKS 

SINCE  honour  from  the  honourer  proceeds, 
How  well  do  they  deserve  ihat  memorize 
And  leave  in  books  for  all  posterities 
The  names  of  worthies  and  their  virtuous 
deeds : 
When  all  their  glory  else,  like  waier-weeds 
Without  their  element,  presently  dies 
And  all  their  g-reatness  quite  forgotten  lies, 
And  when  and  how  they  flourished  no  man 
heeds  ! 

How  poor  remembrances  are  statues,  tombs. 
And  other  monuments  that  men  erect 
To  princes,  which  remain  in  closed  rooms 
Where  but  a  few  behold  them,  in  respect 
Of  books,  that  to  the  universal  eye 

Shew   how  they  lived  ;   the   other,    where 
they  lie. 

—John  Florio 


A  CANADIAN  IN  KOREA 

REV.  JAMES  SCARTH  GALE, 
author  of  ''Korean  Sketches" 
(Revell,  1899),  and  **The  Vanguard,  a 
tale  of  Korea"  (Revell,  1904),  was 
born  near  the  village  of  Alma,  Welling- 
ton Co.,  Feb.  19,  1862,  educated  at 
Elora  High  School,  St.  Catharines 
Collegiate  Institute  and  Toronto  Uni- 
versity, where  he  graduated  in  the 
spring  of  1888.  He  went  to  Korea  in 
the  autumn  of  the  same  year  as  lay 
missionary,  supported  for  four  years 
by  student  contributions.  He  then 
transferred  his  allegiance  to  the  Ameri- 
can Board,  and  has  been  in  the  employ 
of  that  body  since  then.  In  1896,  while 
home  on  furlough,  he  was  regularly 
ordained. 

A  specimen  of  a  Korean  prayer  is 
given  in  *'The  Vanguard,*"  Near 
Ping-yang  there  is  a    famous   shrine, 

•Chicago  and  Toronto:  The  Fleming  H. 
Revell  Co. 


famous  for  its  mysterious  power.  **On 
the  first  day  of  the  moon  and  the 
fifteenth  day,  the  people  of  the  town 
brought  food  and  money  and  paper, 
and  spread  it  out  on  the  ground  before 
the  spirit  and  said,  *0  spirit !  here  is 
this  offering,  take  It,  eat  it,  inhale  it, 
do  what  you  like  with  it,  only  be  good, 
and  give  us  money,  and  rice,  and  sons, 
and  good  grave-sites,  and  long  life, 
and  nothing  to  do,  Amen.*  **  Korea  is 
a  place  of  great  ignorance,  of  great 
immorality,  of  great  depravity,  if  "The 
Vanguard'*  is  a  true  picture.  It  should 
be  left  in  Japan's  hands,  now  that  she 
has  once  more  taken  possession,  and 
perhaps  it  may  be  improved.  No 
doubt  it  will  take  many  years  of  des- 
perate education. 

This  story  turns  a  new  page  in  fiction; 
it  shows  the  picturesqueness,  humour, 
romance,  and  grim  struggle  of  the  life 
of  a  young  Canadian  who  elects  to  be 
a  missionary  to  the  Koreans.  In  view 
of  the  present  war,  the  location  in 
itself  is  enough  to  make  the  book  in- 
teresting, but  its  interest  does  not  rest 
on  that  only,  nor  does  one  need  to  be 
a  mission  enthusiast  to  be  taken  with 
the  story, — it  is  a  recital  of  telling 
incident  that  grips  attention  from  first 
to  last.  The  Western  characters  are 
all  unique,  and  also  the  natives  from 
Ko  the  thief,  gambler,  and  general 
thug,  to  Jay  the  insurrection  leader, 
who  got  his  price  out  of  the  govern- 
ment. Underneath  all  is  the  romance 
of  the  hero's  life,  with  its  dramatic 
and  happy  finale. 

**  Korean  Sketches,"  by  the  same 
author,  is  a  series  of  semi-humorous, 
semi-descriptive  tales  about  the  hermit 
nation,  its  people,  and  their  four-footed 
companions.  Mr.  Gale  has  crossed 
the  country  twelve  times,  has  penetrat- 


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ed  into  its  most  remote  sections,  and 
has  lived  with  princes  and  coolies. 


CROCKETT'S  LATEST 

THERE  is  a  certain  vigour  in  the 
novels  of  S.  R.  Crockett  which  is 
disconcerting  to  the  reviewer,  who  finds 
that  writer's  novels  flowing  in  with  un- 
ceasing regularity — if  there  is  such  a 
form  of  motion  known  to  the  human 
mind.  "Strong  Mac*'*  is  the  story  of 
a  simple-minded  young  giant,  who  at 
the  opening  ctf  the  story  is  attending 
the  Lowran  schoolhouse  and  living 
with  his  poacher-father  at  the  tiny 
freehold  House  of  Muir,  in  the  Gallo- 
way country.  Adora  Gracie,  the 
young  schoolmistress,  shares  the  hon- 
ours of  the  story,  and  the  romance  that 
is  woven  about  the  two  by  this  skilful 
author  seems  very  real  and  decidedly 
intense.  Crockett  strongly  delineates 
his  characters,  so  that  there  is  no 
mistaking  their  identity.  He  describes 
their  moods,  their  feelings,  their 
ambitions,  their  actions,  with  much 
nicety  of  phrase  and  picturesque 
expression,  until  the  heart  of  each  is 
laid  bare  to  the  sympathetic  reader. 
As  these  characters  lived  away  back 
in  the  time  when  Canada  defended 
herself  from  the  United  States  and 
when  Wellington  fought  in  Spain, 
they  did  not  live  and  speak  as  we  do 
now,  hence  there  is  an  added  quaint- 
ness  in  the  romance.  The  times  were 
ruder  and  sterner  and  justice  was 
differently  interpreted  and  differently 
administered.  Might  was  more  nearly 
right  in  the  individual,  and  the  strong 
man  needed  his  strength.  Yet,  even 
strong  men  had  difficulties  from  which 
they  barely  escaped,  as  the  story  of 
Strong  Mac  most  plainly  shows. 


A  PROBLEM  STORY 

Doctors  and  students  of  science  will 
find  in  **The  Narrow  Enigma,"*  by 
Melvin  L.  Severy,  a  book  worthy  of  a 
spare  hour.  This  kind  of  problem- 
story  is   an    oasis  -in    the    desert    of 

•Toronto:  The  Copp,  Clark  Co. 


JAMES  S.    GALE 

Author  of  "The  V^angnard,"  and 
**  Korean  Sketches." 


monotone  romantic  fiction.  This  fea- 
ture adds  a  piquancy  and  intellectual 
exercise  to  an  interesting  tale — though 
not  in  all  cases.      ^ 

TWO  VOLUMES  IN  ONE 

**  Dorothea,"*  by  Maarten  Maartens, 
is  entitled  **A  Story  of  the  Pure  in 
Heart."  It  is  as  ambitious  as  a  ser- 
mon, as  *  long,  and  as  interesting. 
The  reader  ^ho  ventures  to  ramble 
through  its  pages  will  require  much 
patience,  which  will  not  be  without 
reward.  ^ 

NOTES 

JUSTIN  McCarthy,  the  novelist 
J  and  historian,  has  recently  been 
placed  upon  the  civil  list  of  the  British 
Government  to  receive  an  annual  pen- 
sion of  £250  ($1,250).  A  prominent 
English  publication  expresses  surprise 
that  an  author  whose  works  are  so 
popular  wherever  the  English  language 
is  spoken  should  be  in  need  of  a  pen- 
sion. A  score  of  editors  have  sprung 
forward  with  the  information  that  Mr. 

*  Toronto  :  The  Copp,  Clark  Co. 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


McCarthy  has  been  ds  generous  in  the 
spending  of  his  money  as  he  has  been 
indefatigable  in  earning  it,  that  he  is 
now  old  (in  his  73rd  year),  and  that  for 
the  last  five  years  he  has  been  almost 
blind,  requiring  the  services  of  his 
daughter,  with  whom  ,he  lives,  as 
amanuensis. 

Mr.  A.  C.  Swinburne,  who  was 
sixty-seven  on  Tuesday,  April  5,  is 
stated  to  have  completely  recovered 
from  his  recent  severe  illness.  It  was 
in  1857-8  that  Mr.  Swinburne's  earliest 
writings  (says  a  writer  in  the  West- 
minster Gaeette)  were  published  in  the 
*' Undergraduate  Papers,"  edited  by 
John  Nichol,  who,  with  Sir  Michael 
Hicks  Beach,  Sir  James  Bryce,  T.  H. 
Green  and  Dr.  Birkbeck  Hill,  was  a 
contemporary  of  the  poet  at  Balliol 
College,  Oxford.  Mr.  Swinburne's 
first  volume,  **  The  Queen-Mother  and 
Rosamond,"  was  issued  in  i860  by 
Pickering,  but  before  many  copies  were 
sold  it  was  transferred  to  Moxon,  who 
issued  the  work  with  a  new  title-page. 
His  ''  Poems  and  Ballads,"  which  has 
had  the  largest  sale  of  any  of  Mr. 
Swinburne's  works,  dedicated  to  "my 
friend  Edward  Burne-Jones,"  was 
originally  published  in  1866. 

In  his  recently-published  reminis- 
cences of  the  Duke  of  Wellington, 
Lord  Ellesmere  tells  how  punctilious 
the  great  Duke  was  m  the  matter  of 
paroles,  and  he  never  forgave  an  offi- 
cer who  acted  dishonourably  in  this 
respect.  On  one  occasion,  he  recounts, 
a  Colonel  Walters  who  had  been  cap- 
tured by  the  Spanish  appeared  at  the 
dinner  table.  The  Duke's  first  im- 
pression was  that  he  had  broken  his 
parole;  those  who  were  present  never 
forgot  the  awful  expression  of  his  face. 
It  was  not  until  the  officer  explained 
that  he  had  made  a  daring  and  entire- 
ly legitimate  escape  that  his  superior's 
brow  cleared. 

There  was  a  tragic  occurrence  in  the 
Lake  of  the  Woods  district  in  1736, 
when  a  son  of  Lav6rendrye,  a  mission- 
ary and  a  score  of  voyageurs  were 
massacred  by  the  Sioux  of  the  Prairies. 
A  complete  account  of  this  affair  is 
^iven  in  a  paper  recently  contributed 


by  Lawrence  J.  Burpee  to  the  Transac- 
tions of  the  Royal  Society.  To  the 
same  series  C.  C.  James  contributes  a 
record  of  the  Second  Legislature  of  Up- 
per Canada,  1796-1800.  The  four  ses- 
sions of  that  body  were  held  in  York, 
but  Mr.  James  does  not  describe  what 
was  done,  contenting  himself  with  bio- 
graphical notes  on  the  men  who  made, 
up  that  historic  body.  (Ottawa:  James 
Hope  &  Sons.) 

The  Royal  Astronomical  Society  of 
Canada  have  issued  a  volume  of  se- 
lected papers  and  proceedings  for  1902 
and  1903,  edited  by  Arthur  Harvey, 
F.R.S.C.  This  is  a  valuable  volume, 
although  regret  must  be  expressed 
that  the  poor  ink  and  the  imperfect 
press-work  have  spoiled  what  is  other- 
wise an  attractive  publication.  This 
society  is  successor  to  the  Astronomi- 
cal and  Physical  Society  of  Toronto, 
which  title  was  considered  ''too  local 
for  a  body  which  had  valued  members 
in  other  cities  and  desired  to  bring  to- 
gether for  their  general  good  all  Cana- 
dians who  were  interested  in  astronom- 
ical science."  (Toronto:  George  N. 
Morang  &  Co.     Paper,  144  pages.) 

There  will  be  issued  this  month  in 
the  United  States  and  Canada  a  vol- 
ume of  racing  stories  by  W.  A.  Fraser, 
under  the  title  "Brave  Hearts."  These 
stories  are  probably  Mr.  Eraser's  best 
work,  as  he  appears  to  be  more  at 
home  with  the  horse  than  with  any 
other  animal.  These  tales  have  all  his 
accustomed  vigour,  with  a  reality 
which  makes  them  vivid  and  convinc- 
ing. The  scenes  range  through  Ca- 
nada, England  and  India. 

The  McGill  University  Magazine  for 
April  (Vol.  3,  No.  2)  contains,  as  a 
frontispiece,  a  fine  portrait  of  the 
Hon.  Charles  Dewey  Day,  Chancellor 
of  McGill  University,  1857-1884.  Most 
of  the  contributions  to  the  number  are 
worth  reading,  the  weakest  being  the 
lecture  from  the  pen  of  Professor  Mac- 
naughton.  The  poetry  is  above  the 
average.     (Montreal:  A.  T.  Chapman.) 

Edwyn  Sandys  has  a  new  book  ready 
which  will  be  issued  early  in  the  fall. 
It  is  entitled  ''Sportsman  Joe,"  and  is 
a  combination  of  fiction  and  woodlore. 


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BHSH, 


THE  STRATEGY  OF  BIGGS. 

BIGGS  sat  at  ease  in  the  **  Queen's" 
verandah  chair. 
Hidden  among  the  cedars  at  the 
brow  of  the  long  gentle  slope  leading 
into  the  village,  is  a  pretty  red  brick 
cottage ;  neat,  bright  flower  beds  in 
front,  a  well-kept  garden  at  the  rear. 
There  Biggs  lives.  But  energetic, 
little  Mrs.  Biggs  and  son  Jack  deserve 
the  credit  for  establishing  this  cosy 
home.  Biggs  is  their  free  boarder. 
Scheming  for  free  drinks  at  ,the 
**  Queen's,'*  and  posting  himself  in 
politics  from  the  hotel  copy  of  the 
Daily  Bugle^  are  his  chief  occupations. 

Curtin,  the  cattle  buyer,  came  driv- 
ing along  the  Main  Road.  'Twas  his 
first  trip  north  of  the  Townline.  That 
summer,  cattle  were  scarce,  high- 
priced  and  hard  to  buy,  and  he  was 
widening  his  territory. 

Curtin's  gig  drew  up  at  the  door  of 
the  village  hotel. 

"Buyin'  cattle?  "  queried  Biggs. 

"Yes,  any  to  sell?" 

"Mebbe,"  was  the  guarded  reply. 
"Aren't  you  coming  in?"  he  con- 
tinued, scenting  the  probable  treat. 

"  What  about  them  cattle  ?  "  asked 
Curtin  after  a  couple  of  rounds  of 
"  something  "  at  his  expense. 

"'Cross  the  bridge,  'bout  a  mile 
out,"  he  was  informed. 

They  drove  out. 


"There  they  are,"  pointed  Biggs  a 
few  minutes  later,  and  they  halted  at 
the  crossroads.  Half  a  dozen  steers 
looked  lazily  at  them  from  the  corner 
field. 

Curtin  climbed  the  fence  and  ex- 
amined the  bunch.  Biggs,  from  the 
gig,  dilated  upon  the  fine  condition  of 
each  animal. 

"What's  your  price?"  asked  the 
buyer. 

*•  You're  buyin',"  was  the  curt  re- 
sponse. 

"  Well,  I'll  give  you  forty  apiece  for 
these  four  and  thirty  for  the  others. 
What  d'ye  say?" 

"  It's  blamed  hot  here.  Let's  go 
back  and  talk  it  over,"  was  the  reply 
of  the  thirsty  man  in  the  gig. 

"  Say  thirty-five  apiece  for  the  two- 
year-olds,  then,"  raised  the  drover, 
continuing  the  discussion  in  the  Blue 
Room  of  the  "Queen's,"  after  a  spell 
of  refreshment. 

Biggs  wouldn't  say. 

Refreshments  continued.  Still  he 
wouldn't  say. 

"Forty  apiece  all  round,"  urged 
Curtin. 

Biggs  was  inexorable.  The  liquor 
flowed  deliciously  cool. 

"See  here,  mister,"  broke  out  the 
drover  at  last,  irritably,  "  I'll  give 
you  forty-five  all  round.  Your  blamed 
cattle  ain't  worth  it,  but  I'm  in  the 
township  to  buy  and  I'm  goin'  to  buy. 
Have  another.  Here's  a  ten  on  the 
bargain.     I've  got  to  be  moving." 

Biggs  slowly  drained  his  glass,  and 
spurning  the  tenner  walked  unsteadily 
out  to  resume  the  arm  chair,  while 
Curtin  settled  the  score. 

"  I    say,    landlord,"   asked   Curtin. 
"What's  the  matter  with  that  blamed 
fool?     What    does   he    want    for  -his 
cattle?" 
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UNIMAGINATIVE. 

.    Auntie. — **  Do  you  see  the  hair  in  this  old  brooch,  Cyril?      It  was  your  Great- 
Grandfather's." 

Cyril. — **I  say,  Auntie,  he  didn't  have  much!" — Punch, 


*«  His  cattle?  What  cattle?  Where?" 
ejaculated  the  astonished  host. 

**Why,  the  cattle  we  were  out 
lookin'  at.  Tenth  line,  he  said  it  was. 
That  corner  opposite  the  cemetery." 

''His  cattle?*'  snorted  .the  hotel 
keeper.  **  Biggs  don't  own  a  calf. 
That's  Garlen's  ranch  out  by  the  ceme- 
tery. And  he  gathered  in  every  head 
for  sale  in  the  township  last  week,  too." 

Curtin  drove  quickly  along  the  Main 
Road,  up  the  long  gentle  slope  leading 
from  the  village. 

Biggs  slept  at  ease  in  the  *' Queen's" 
verandah  chair. — Don   Graeme, 


A   TWENTIETH    CENTURY   INTERNA- 
TIONAL CATECHISM  LESSON 

What  is  the  first  duty  of  a  nation? 
To  glorify  itself  and  serve  itself  for- 
ever, and  by  any  means  which  may 
not  bring  it  in  conflict  with  a  more 
powerful  nation. 


What  are  Christian  nations  ?  Na- 
tions with  large  armies  and  navies. 

What  is  a  treaty  ?  A  solemn  agree- 
ment between  two  or  more  nations, 
which  the  weaker  are  in  honour  bound 
to  obey. 

What  is  arbitration?  A  means  of 
settling  disputes  between  nations  so 
equally  matched  that  one  is  afraid 
to  go  to  war  and  the  other  does  not 
dare  to. 

What  is  Benevolent  Assimilation? 
The  process  of  adapting  the  resources 
of  the  weak  to  the  benefit  of  the  strong. 
It  is  practised  by  lions  and  tigers 
towards  lambs  and  deer,  and  by 
Christian  nations  (see  def.)  towards 
barbarous  and  semi-civilized  peoples. 
Also  sometimes  known  as  the  Spread 
of  Civilization.  The  most  efHcient 
and  generally  used  instruments  for 
this  beneficent  process  are  mission- 
aries, rum  and  rifles 

Edwin  J,  Webster,  in  N  Y,  Life, 


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mm 


A   DIVING  HORSE 

THE     accompanying     photograph 
shows  a  diving  horse  in  action. 
It  is,  indeed,  a  source  of  never-ending 


A  DIVING   HORSE   IN  ACTION 


opening  is  that  of  a  new  ''Scenic  Tun- 
nel" facing  the  Horseshoe  Fall.  I 
chanced  to  be  in  it  one  July  day  in  1903 
when  a  workman — one  of  a  number 
engaged  in  erecting  an  elec- 
tric power  house  at  the  base 
of  the  Table  Rock  Cliff- 
was  hoisted  by  a  derrick  up 
the  160  feet  of  distance  to 
the  level  of  the  cataract. 
The  man  hung  on  to  a  pul- 
ley block  and  was,  there- 
fore, suspended  for  some 
minutes  over  the  boiling 
waters  of  the  river  and  in 
the  mist  of  the  Horseshoe 
Cataract.  Needless  to  say, 
the  man's  position  when 
photographed  was  a  precari- 
ous one;  at  least,  it  would 
be  to  the  average  man.  The 
electric  works  at  the  Falls 
present  some  new  phases  to 
the  tourist,  even  though  the 


wonder  that  animals  are 
able  to  learn  so  many  novel 
tricks.  At  the  Toronto  Ex- 
hibition last  year  a  horse 
was  present  who  was  able 
to  go  to  bed  and  to  cover 
himself  up  with  the  clothes. 
A  few  years  ago.  a  diving 
elk  went  about  the  country 
giving  exhibitions.  Per- 
forming elephants,  lions,  and 
smaller  anin^als  are  numer- 
ous. A  diving  horse  is,  how- 
ever, one  of  the  newest. 

AN   ODD   SNAPSHOT 
This  interesting  and  curi- 
ous  snapshot   was   taken 
at  Niagara   Falls.     The 


A  SNAP-SHOT  AT   NIAGARA   FALLS 
PHOTO  BY   FRANK  YBIGH 
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THE   FARTHEST   NORTH  TOWN    IN  CANADA,   FORT   MACPHERSON, 

ON   THE   PEEL   RIVER.      IT   IS  WITHIN    200   MILES 

OF   THE  ARCTIC   COAST 


natural  beauty  of  the  surroundings  is 
fading  away  before  the  predatory  hand 
of  the  capitalist. 

A  CURIOUS  LETTER 

New  York,  March  i6th,  1904. 

My  Dear  Bob, — Your  letter — short 
and  sweet — received  some  days  ago, 
and  I  am  glad  you  found  my  remarks 
re  snobs  to  the  point. 

My  dear  Bob,  you  are  not  the  only 
fellow  who  is  troubled  with  snobs, 
there  are  others;  your  uncle  Silas  down 
in  New  Y.  has  his  own  troubles  with 
snobs  or  rather  with  a  snob  and  a  snobby 
snob  at  that.  His  name  happens  to  be 
Cjrriggs,  and  he  is  the  special  partner  of 
the  firm  of  James  Ross  &  Co.  His 
money  can't  be  counted  and  his  brains 
can't  be  found,  but  what  he  lacks  in 
brains  he  makes  up  in  snobbishness. 

Have  you  ever  seen  a  regiment  of 
Yankee  militia  drill  ?  If  not  you  are 
to  be  congratulated;  I  have.  I  saw 
the  seventy-first  inspected  some  time 
ago,  and  as  our  old  friend  R.  H. 
says : 

"Now  there  aint  no  chorus  'ere  to  sing, 
Nor  there  aint  no  band  to  play, 

An'  I  wish  I  was  dead  'fore  I  done  wot  I  did. 
Or  saw  what  I  seen  that  day." 


I  took  the  wife 
with  me.  After  wit- 
nessing one  or  two 
fearful  and  wonder- 
ful evolutions,  ac- 
companied by  much 
running  about  and 
shouting  of  officers, 
she  said, ''Oh,  let  us 
go  home,  Ryerson 
school  can  do  bet- 
ter than  that."  So 
home  we  went, 
grieving  over  what 
we  had  seen. 
Positively  it  was 
awful,  the  sorriest 
exhibition  of  ignor- 
ance and  incompet- 
ence it  has  ever  been 
my  unhappy  lot  to 
witness.  A  sloppier 
lot  of  shagnappies  I 
hope  I  may  never  see.  The  colonel  in 
command  sat  on  his  horse  at  one  side, 
while  his  major  gave  the  commands, 
smoking  a  big  black  cigar  and  chatting 
affably  with  the  inspecting  officer.  A 
sergeant  and  a  captain  nearly  came  to 
blows  right  beneath  the  gallery  where 
we  were  sitting  over  some  question  of 
etiquette,  and  the  whole  mob  broke 
ranks  and  surrounded  them.  Some  of 
the  officers  even  began  to  make  bets  on 
the  outcome,  and  then — oh.  Bob — 
what  do  you  think — of  all  things — in 
the  headquarters  of  a  regiment  sup- 
posed to  be  of  soldiers — with  officers  in 
uniform  too— oh,  it  was  pitiful — a 
policeman — think  of  it — a  policeman — 
an  ordinary,  every-day,  commonplace 
city  policeman,  pushed  his  way  through 
the  crowd  and  ordered  officers,  men 
and  all  to  quit  their  fooling.  Such  an 
exhibition  ! 

With  all  their  talk  and  blow,  their 
flag-flapping,  and  '  holier  than  thou ' 
business,  the  people  of  the  United 
States  are  only  half  civilized;  they  talk 
like  savages,  eat  like  savages,  drink 
like  savages  and  in  every  other  way 
live  and  die  like  savages.  They  have 
theil*  good  points,  but — 

Yours  sincerely, 

Frank. 


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^M 

m 

^m 

-'^— -^.T"' 

(anada 


FOR  THE  GAIVADIAIVS 


A  Depart  men  f  For  Guslness  Men. 


AT   PORT  ARTHUR 

Ni^ht!  and  the  thou!sand  terrors! 

The  eyeless  Dark,  and  the  fears! 
Night!  and  its  wrack  of  blindness: 

Darkness  where  Panic  rears. 

Army  that  stalks  in  the  sunshine, 

And  shell  that  flies  by  day! 
These  we  may  face  and  fear  not, 

These  we  may  meet  in  the  way! 

But  night  and  its  awful  fearing, 

As  our  searchlights  stab  in  the  Dark! 

When  Death  abides  in  the  Blackness, 
Our  gunners  find  no  mark. 

Impotent  gun  and  gunners: 

We  pray  for  coming  of  Dawn. 

And  the  sun  comes  up  and  finds  us 
With  pallid  faces  and  wan. 

Day!  and  a  sparkling  ocean! 

Wished-for:  the  ships  of  the  foe! 
Day!  and  the  battle  is  welcome, 

When  blow  is  returned  for  blow! 

But  Night,  and  its  blind  forebodings! 

The  Dark!  and  its  black,  dead  fear! 
When  our  hearts  are  ground  in  torture! 

God!  Is  the  Day  not  near? 

— Roden  Kingsmill  in  Toronto  News, 


SLOWLY   BUT    SURELY 

SLOWLY,  but  surely,  the  idea  is  per- 
colating through  the  minds  of  the 
press  and  the  government  of  Great 
Britain  that  the  present  rate  of  postage 
on  British  newspapers  and  periodicals 
mailed  to  Canada  is  a  disgrace.  Great 
Britain  charges  8  cents  a  pound  to 
mail  this  material  to  Canada;  Canada 
charges  one-half  cent  a  pound  to  send 
the  same  class  of  mail  matter  to  Great 
Britain.     Here    is    an    editorial    note 


from  the  British- Canadian  Review y  of 
London : 

Recently  the  Duke  of  Argyll  wrote  to  The 
Times  directing  attention  to  the  operation  of 
the  Preferential  Tariff  in  Canada,  and  adverted 
to  interesting  details  on  the  subject  contrib- 
uted by  Mr.  George  Johnston,  the  head  of  the 
Statistical  Branch  of  the  Department  of 
Agriculture,  Ottawa.  Perhaps  one  of  the 
most  eloquently  conceived  passages  in  the 
report  was  that  which  runs  as  follows: — 
"There  is  one  subject  which  is  intimately 
connected  with  the  development  of  trade,  to 
which,  however,  your  Government  does  not 
appear  to  attach  as  much  importance  as  I  do. 
Your  newspapers  do  not  circulate  in  Canada. 
The  United  States  papers  do.  Trade,  we 
say,  follows  the  flag.  It  is  even  more  true 
that  trade  follows  the  advertisements  of  the 
newspapers."  This  is  edifying  reading,  but 
it  is  nevertheless  true,  and  no  one  acquainted 
with  Colonial  trade  can  question  the  accuracy 
of  the  statement.  The  time  has  arrived  when 
manufacturers  must  advertise  over  sea,  and 
no  longer  foster  the  feeling  that  such  adver- 
tising represents  so  much  money  thrown 
away.  Most  Governments  encourage  trade 
papers,  but  in  England  the  policy  is  to  impair 
their  usefulness  by  imposing  a  prohibitive  rate 
of  postage.  How  long  will  it  be  before  St. 
Martin 's-le-Grand  are  able  to  **  think  imper- 
ially" on  this  really  urgent  matter? 

The  British  manufacturer  seems  very 
slow  to  move  in  this  matter  which  so 
vitally  affects  his  future  interests. 


A  VALUABLE  CONCESSION 

ONE  of  the  points  brought  out  dur- 
ing the  discussion  on  the  Grand 
Trunk  Pacific,  and  one  which  should 
not  be  lost  sight  of,  was  the  value  of 
a  single  concession  made  to  the  Cana- 
dian Pacific,  in  the  original  contract. 
It  was  therein  provided  that  "  the  rail- 


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way,  and  all  stations,  station  grounds, 
workshops,  buildings,  yards  and  other 
property,  rolling  stock  and  appurten- 
ances required  and  used  for  the 
construction  and  working  thereof,  and 
the  capital  stock  of  the  company,  shall 
be  forever  free  from  taxation  by  the 
Dominion,  or  by  any  province  hereafter 
to  be  established,  or  by  any  municipal 
corporation  therein."  This  is  a  pretty 
generous  provision,  and  if  it  had  been 
given  the  C.P.R.  for  a  limited  period, 
perhaps  much  objection  could  not  have 
been  taken  to  it;  but  it  is  forever.  No 
government  in  the  future  will  ever  be 
able  to  alter  it.  It  will  stand  for  all 
time  as  a  monument  to  the  generosity 
of  the  Conservative  government  that 
gave  it.  Some  one  may  say  "Well, 
what  does  it  amount  to  anyhow  ?"  It 
amounts  to  this,  that  on  its  2,500  miles 
of  railway  (taxed  in  the  United  States 
at  about  $50  a  mile)  no  taxes  whatever 
will  be  paid;  on  its  station  buildings, 
yards,  etc.,  no  taxes  will  be  paid.  In 
Winnipeg  alone  the  company  has  a 
most  valuable  and  extensive  property, 
yet  it  will  never  contribute  one  cent  to 
the  taxes  of  the  province.  Those  who . 
have  given  the  matter  some  careful 
study  and  attention,  conclude  that  this 
concession  alone  is  worth  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  one  million  dollars  a  year 
to  the  company.  Capitalized,  it  would 
more  than  pay  the  entire  cost  of  the 
proposed  Grand  Trunk  Pacific,  from 
ocean  to  ocean.  As  the  value  of  the 
C.P.R.  increases  from  year  to  year, 
the  value  of  this  concession  will  in- 
crease accordingly. — Clinton  N&w  Era, 


THE  UNFORTUNATE   OBJECTION  TO 
CHILDREN. 

IF  modern  tendencies  do  not  alter,  it 
would  seem  as  if  the  rearing  of  chil- 
dren in  cities  by  any  but  the  very  poor 
or  the  very  rich  will  soon  be  a  thing 
of  the  past.  The  very  poor  live  in 
tenements,  and  no  questions  are  raised 


by  the  landlords  as  to  whether  they 
have  children  or  not.  It  is  assumed 
they  have  children,  or  will  have  them. 
The  very  rich,  on  the  other  hand,  live 
in  their  own  mansions,  and  if  they  care 
to  indulge  in  children  there  is  no  one 
to  say  them  nay.  But  the  middle  class 
are  hard  put  to  it,  if  they  have  followed, 
even  on  a  modest  scale,  the  Scriptural 
injunction  to  increase  and  multiply. 
Landlords  look  askance  at  them,  and 
sometimes  absolutely  refuse  to  have 
any  dealings  with  them.  Domestic 
servants,  in  like  manner,  regard  a 
large  family  as  something  intolerable, 
and  raise  objections  even  to  a  couple 
of  children.  President  Roosevelt  de- 
livered an  address  to  the  people  of  the 
United  States  about  a  year  ago  on 
''  race  suicide  "  ;  but  not  a  few  fathers 
and  mothers  are  crying  out  to-day  in 
sore  perplexity,  "What  are  we  goings 
to  do  if  the  modern,  civilized  com- 
munity refuses  a  place  to  our  chil- 
dren?" It  has  been  hinted  that, 
amongst  our  neighbours,  the  trouble 
is  partly  due  to  the  fact  that  their  chil- 
dren are  so  ill- trained.  Certainly  it 
the  youngsters  deserve  the  description 
given  of  them  by  Mrs.  Ira  Husted 
Harper,  the  prominent  woman  sufFra- 
gist,  one  can  understand  that  it  would 
take  all  a  fond  parent's  partiality  to 
put  up  with  their  ill  manners.  Such 
an  explanation,  however,  is  far  from 
covering  the  ground.  Even  here, 
where  children  are  perhaps  passably 
brought  up,  the  objection  to  children 
is  taking  shape,  and  increasing  the  diffi- 
culties of  those  who  have  growing 
families  and  only  moderate  means. 
The  great  trouble  is  the  sharp  com- 
petition of  modern  life.  Society  is  or- 
ganized to-day  as  for  battle,  and  in  a 
battle,  why — children  are  in  the  way. 
It  is  unfortunate  that  it  should  be  so, 
and  unfortunate  also  that  time,  far 
from  promising  an  early  remedy,  hints 
rather  that  things  may  be  worse  before 
they  are  better. — Montreal  Star, 


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>HIED  BE?I 


-     4^ 


The  attractive  package — the  appetizing  appearance  of 

Libby's   (Natural  Ravor)  Food  Products 

ai*  only  exceeded  by  their  go^dnts^  They  are  just  what  you  want  forPjcnks^ 
Lawn  Luncheons,  Excursion  Trips,,  or  for  any  occasion.  Llhby's  Ox  Tongue* 
Devile^l  Ham,  Melrose  Pmii^  Peerir^s  Waicr-Sliced  Dried  Beef^and  Potted  Hstm^ 
Of*  among  the  list  oi  good  ihings.    Ask  your  grocer  for  Libby^*:  they  are  the  best* 

I  Vur  N-f'kfn.  "r^{*r>cl  Thtti«  tn  F.nt"  Atnt  lirj^eflu  Tip»iM«t. 
iSend  nve  3li:  tttUiiL»»(L»r  l.ibbj''j  ptir  At].  '     "'       ' 


tUaot  tilt  Wurld. 


Libbr*  McNeill  a  Libb>^ 

C  H  I  G  a  g'  o 

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Af^S  PIANOS 


Dciir  Sirs— I  have  heard  your  New  Scale  >v  illiams  Piano  ; 
it  a  very  tine  infltniment.     Itetonc  is  most  'satis  factorj^  and 


^...^,  both  for  80I0  work  and  ordinary  use. 
le  very  best  Pianos  made  on  thi^  continent. 

Faithfully  yours. 


qujility 
th( 


It  will  hold  it^ 


fL  Watkin  Mji 


Wedding 
Cakes 

are  unequalled  for  fine  quality 
and  artistic  decoration.  They 
are  shipped  by  express  to  all 
parts  of  the  Dominion.  Safe 
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TORONTO 


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Hamilton  Conservatory  of  Music, 
and  also  in  almost  all  of  the  lead- 
ing Conservatories  and  Musical 
Colleges. 

WRITE   TO   THE 

BELL  oROAN^co!,  Limited 

aUELPH,  ONTARIO 


ECONOMICAL 

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Because  they   yield    the 
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Yon  don*t  have  to  experiment 
with  them  to  find  oat  what 
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A    book  of  Choice  Recipes 
I  (80  pages),  sent  free^  wiU  t^ 
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IN   ONE   BOTTLE 

REgUIRES 

NO   HEATING   OR 


do  you  know  even   farmers   with   their   healthy 
out-door  life  are  often  seriously  hurl  by 
COFFEK?    . 

'  It's  a  fact.  Ask  any  regular  Coffee  drinker 
if  he  is  entirely  -well.  Few,  if  any,  are.  because 
coffee  coniJfests  the  liver  and  causes  all  sorts  ot 
nervous  and  stomach  troubles.  It's  easy  to 
prove  by  quitting  and  taking  on  POSTUM 
FOOD   COFFEE.  ep.  7-'^^ 

A   return   to   health  is  natural  and  veryfsure 
unless  other  troubles  interfere. 
'*  There's  a  reason"  for 

POSTUM 

"  .J  Indelible  and  Harmless 

On  any  Pabrk- 
ry  it  once  and  yon  will 


VimER  BOOKS 


COLOURED  FRONTISPIE 


Jr 


iL 


THE 


CANADIAN 

MAGAZINE 


PUBLISHED        BY 

THE-ONTARIO-PO  BLISMING-Co.  Limited. 


-TC^F^  <-»r<l^T^r^  r^2S."lvJ3Qk  n!»^ 


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Keep  yourself  well 

and  daily  use 

Epps's 
Cocoa 


The  Original  Cocoa  for 


Breakfast  and  Supper. 

Epps's 
Cocoa 

The  most  Nutritious 

and  Economical. 


\St.  Denis  Hotel 

Broatdway  atnd  Eleventh  Street 

NEW  YORK 

Buropeatn  Plan Convenient  Location 

WILLIAM  TAYLOR  &  80N 

The  Convenient  Location.  Tasteful  Appdntment,  Reas- 
onable Chargres,  Courteous  Attendance,  and  Cuisine  of 
Exceptional  Excellence  are  Characteristic  of  this  Hotel 
nnd  have  secured  and  Retained  for  it  a  patronage  of  the 
Highest  Order. 


•H 


TIME   IS  THE  TEST 
OF  ALL  THINGS 

AND   THE    KVER-INCREASING 
POPULARITY   OF 

ENO'S 
*  FRUIT 
SALT' 

WHICH    HOLDS    ITS   OWN  AGAINST 

ALL   RIVALS,  IS   THE    MOST 
GENUINE    PROOF   OF   ITS  WORTH. 

It  must  needs  be  a  good  thing-  that  can  withstand 
the  immense  pressure  of  uprising  competition,  and  yet 
defy  comparison ;  small  marvel,  therefore,  that  with  the 
flight  of  years  ENO'S  'FRUIT  SALT"  has  become 
known  far  and  wide  for  what  it  is  worth,  one  of  the 
most  Potent.  Simple,  and  Agreeable  factors  in  main- 
taining Health.  It  assists  the  functions  of  the  Liver, 
Bowels.  Skin,  and  Kidneys  by  Natural  Means,  and  thus 
RECTIFIES  THE  STOMACH  AND  MAKES  THE 
LIVER  LAUGH  WITH  JOY  I 

CAUTION.—Bxamine  the  Bottle  and  Cap- 
eule,  and  eee  that  they  are  marked 
<  ■NO'8  FRUIT  8ALT.*  Otherwiee  you  have 
been  impoeed  upon  by  a  Worthleee  imi- 
tation. 

Wholes;ile  of  Messrs.  Evans  &  Sons,  Ltd., 
Montreal  and  Toronto.  Canada. 


PURE  FOOD  INSURES 

(OWnEUIH 


JUGIC 


BAMNG 


INSURES 

PORE  FOOD. 


e.W.QILLETT  Z^ST^lti 

TORONTO.OHT. 


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PRESS  or  THE  HUNTER.  ROSE  Oa.  LIMITEO.  TORONTO 


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THE 


CANADIAN  Magazine 


/;■;- 


-..  \ 


VOL.  XXIII 


TORONTO,  JULY,    1SD4   jU    !   f  T'  '■  - '>tNo.  3 


THE  LADIES*  EMPIRE  CLU&-Of 
LONDON 


By  LALLY  BERNARD 


[jURING  the  season  of  1902, 
made  memorable  by  the 
festivities  which  attended 
the  coronation  of  Edward 
the  Seventh,  the  Ladies' 
Empire  Club  sprang  into  existence 
under  the  auspices  of  the  Victoria 
League,  an  organization  of  well-known 
women  in  the  British  Isles  who  joined 
forces  with  the  idea  of  furthering  the 
Imperial  ideal  in  social  as  well  as  polit- 
ical circles. 

Lady  Jersey,  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Alfred 
Lyttelton  (wife  of  the  present  Secretary 
for  the  Colonies),  and  Lady  Mary 
Lygon,  who  is  attached  to  the  house- 
hold of  the  Princess  of  Wales,  were 
among  those  mainly  instrumental  in 
originating  and  carrying  out  the  idea. 
During  the  summer  of  1903  the  Club 
quarters  were  situated  in  Whitehall 
Court,  and  it  became  a  distinguished 
rendezvous  where  visitors  from  all 
parts  of  the  Empire  met  in  an  easy  and 
informal  manner  the  members  of  the 
various  committees  connected  with  the 
League,  and  the  guests  they  invited  to 
their  weekly  at-homes. 

So  eminently  successful  was  the  re- 
sult of  the  efforts  made  by  those  inter- 
ested, that  it  was  decided  to  establish 
the  club  on  a  permanent  footing,  and 
thanks  to  the  untiring  energy  of  Mrs. 
Herbert  Chamberlain  (formerly  a  Miss 
Williams,  of  Port  Hope),  to-day  the 
beautiful  club  at  69  Grosvenor  Street 
is  the  very  centre  of  the  social  whirl- 
pool of  London  life,  and  forms  one  of 


the  most  charming  meeting  grounds 
of  all  that  is  best  in  colonial  and  Brit- 
ish society.  Not  ten  minutes'  walk 
from  the  town  house  of  the  High  Com- 
missioner for  Canada,  in  Grosvenor 
Square,  it  is  yet  only  a  few  yards 
from  the  fashionable  shopping  locality 
known  to  all  Canadians,  familiar  with 
London,  as  Old  Bond  Street. 

Formerly  69  Grosvenor  Street  was 
the  residence  of  Lord  Kensington, 
whose  family  name  is  Edwardes,  but 
to-day  the  Duke  of  Westminster  is  the 
distinguished  landlord  of  the  club 
committee.  A  typical  town  house  of 
the  best  possible  design,  the  rooms  are 
spacious  and  well  proportioned,  and 
have  retained  a  distinctly  home-like 
air.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  among 
the  photographs  reproduced  there  is 
not  one  of  the  fine  entrance  hall,  with 
its  broad  curving  staircase  and  its 
cheerful  welcome  of  crimson-tinted 
carpets,  which  shed  a  warm  glow  over 
the  ivory  pannelling  of  the  walls.  The 
head  porter  has  a  snug  little  office  to 
the  right  as  you  enter,  and  the  tele- 
phone is  not  the  least  of  the  luxuries 
provided  for  the  members.  Opening 
off  the  hall  on  the  ground  floor  is  a 
well-proportioned  dining-room,  with 
soft  green  and  ivory  again  for  the 
scheme  of  decoration.  Electroliers, 
softened  by  creamy  silk  shades,  pro- 
duce the  mellow  glow  of  candle  light 
Frequently  one  will  find  the  round 
table  in  the  dining-room  set  for  a  spe- 
cial dinner  party,   for  several  of  the 


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ladies'   empire  club,   LONDON — READING-ROOM 


habituees  of  the  club,  and  especially  its 
colonial  members,  rent  this  room  for 
their  dinner  parties,  as  by  paying  the 
sum  of  one  guinea  can  secure  it  for  the 
evening. 

Opening  off  the  dining-room  is  the 
lunch- room;  here,  again,  is  the  same 
effect  of  ivory  and  green,  which  har- 
monizes well  with  the  glitter  of  per- 
fectly-kept glass  and  silver,  and  the 
snowy  cloths  which  cover  the  numerous 
little  tables,  at  which  four  or  six  peo- 
ple can  be  comfortably  accommodated. 
Maids  in  the  freshest  of  caps  and 
aprons  move  quietly  to  and  fro,  and 
the  buffet  at  the  end  of  the  room  is  set 
exactly  as  it  would  be  in  a  private 
house,  with  cold  joints  and  the  in- 
evitable **game  pastie"  of  an  English 
luncheon  table. 

Between  the  hours  of  one  and  two 
one  will  generally  find  the  lunch-room 
filled  with  the  habituees  of  the  club; 
among  them  are  Lady  Aberdeen,  who 
is  often  accompanied  by  her  husband; 
the  Duchess  of  Marlborough,  the 
Duchess    of    Northumberland,     Lady 


Edward  Cecil,  Mrs.  Laurence  Drum- 
mond,  Mrs.  Molson  Macpherson,  the 
Baroness  Macdonald  of  Earnscliffe, 
Lady  Brassey  and  the  Hon.  Mrs. 
Howard.  Mrs.  Everard  Cotes  (Sara 
Jeanette  Duncan)  and  a  lady  who 
has  lately  arrived  in  London  from 
Cape  Town,  are  among  the  occupants 
of  the  club  chambers  at  present. 
Strolling  through  the  club  drawing- 
room,  of  which  a  photograph  is  given, 
one  will  find  groups  of  well-known 
people  enjoying  five  o'clock  tea  in  the 
pretty  room  with  its  comfortable  furni- 
ture, covered  with  a  rose-patterned 
glazed  chintz,  and  its  many  dainty 
ectras,  which  give  it  the  air  of  a  room 
in  a  private  residence. 

The  room  is  so  large  that  half  a 
dozen  small  tea  parties  can  take  place 
at  one  time  without  danger  of  over- 
crowding. Here,  again,  there  is  a 
glow  of  deep  rose,  ivory  and  green. 
Opening  off  the  drawing  is  the  mem- 
bers' reading-room,  furnished  much  on 
the  same  lines  as  the  drawing-room, 
for   when    it   is  necessary  for  special 


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LADIES    EMPIRE  CLUB,    LONDON— LUNCHEON   ROOM 


entertainments  these  two  rooms  are 
thrown  into  one  with  excellent  effect. 
However,  on  ordinary  occasions  you 
will  find  solitary  members  enjoying 
their  tea  in  the  quiet  and  seclusion 
which  this  room  affords  with  its  com- 
mand of  **Silence,"  which  comes  out  so 
distinctly  in  the  photograph.  Tea  is 
served  in  green  earthenware  sets, 
which  contrast  well  with  the  dainty  be- 
sprigged  china,  quite  in  keeping  with 
the  rose-patterned  chintz  of  the  furni- 
ture. On  side-tables  are  to  be  found 
all  the  newspapers  and  periodicals  of 
the  hour  and  several  colonial  publica- 
tions, The  Canadian  Magazine  con- 
spicuous among  them.  The  writing- 
tables  are  fitted  with  the  most  up-to- 
date  appointments,  and  one  hears  the 
ceaseless  scratch  of  the  fashionable 
**quill,"  for  members  evidently  find  it 
difficult  to  keep  up  with  the  eternal 
rush  of  correspondence  which  assails 
one  in  London.  At  the  end  of  the  cor- 
ridor, on  the  same  floor  as  the  drawing- 
room  and  reading-room,  is  the  smok- 
ing   and   card-room,  where  members 


may  take  their  friends  for  a  quiet  cup 
of  tea,  while  they  smoke  a  veritable 
* 'cigarette  of  peace"  or  make  up  a 
game  of  bridge.  After  luncheon  coffee 
is  often  brought  u^^to  this  southern 
sunlit  room  with  its  masf  of  delicately- 
tinted  windows.  There  fs  not  a  sug- 
gestion of  the  masculine  smoking  den, 
but  pale  green  chintz  takes  the  place  of 
the  rose-patterned  glory  of  the  draw- 
ing-room, and  there  is  an  air  of  clean- 
ly, cheerful,  home-like  comfort.  Coal 
fires  blaze  all  day  in  the  open  grates, 
and  hot-water  coils  keep  the  corridors 
and  rooms  at  a  temperature  which 
Canadians  in  this  land  of  fog  and  chill 
appreciate  fully. 

The  bedrooms,  of  which  no  photo- 
graphs are  procurable,  are  furnished, 
like  the  rest  of  the  club,  with  an  idea 
of  absolute  comfort  as  well  as  beauty. 
Electric  light,  open  fires,  plenty  of 
bathrooms  with  the  latest  and  most 
luxurious  appointments,  and  the  best 
attendance  to  be  had  in  London,  are 
some  of  the  advantages  offered  to 
members.     Twenty-five    servants    are 


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ladies'  empire  club,    LONDON—  smoking  AND  CARD  ROOMS 


employed,  and  with  the  two  secretaries, 
a  manager  and  cashier,  club  chambers 
promise  to  be  particularly  comfortable. 

Canada  is  represented  in  the  list  of 
members  by  about  a  hundred  and  thirty 
names,  and  the  whole  colonial  list  is 
over  three  hundred.  The  club  commit- 
tee which  has  to  do  with  the  entertain- 
ments decided  to  discontinue  a  series 
of  lectures  they  proposed  giving:,  as 
they  found  that  the  club  had  so  many 
members  who  used  it  regularly  that 
the  disturbance  caused  by  special  en- 
tertainments was  to  be  avoided. 

There  have  been  now  and  then  obser- 
vations made  regarding  the  objects  of 
the  club,  wl>ich  should  be  fully  dis- 
cussed in  an  article  such  as  this;  for  it 
is  undoubtedly  established  with  the  idea 
of  bringing  into  close  contact  visitors 
from  the  colonies  with  the  wives  and 
daughters  of  men  of  prominence  and 
distinction  in  Great  Britain. 

There  have  been  those  who  asserted 
that  making  it  so  much  a  **  matter  of 
business  '*  is  to  take  away  the  most 
pronounced    charm    of    social    inter- 


course. But  those  who  raise  this 
objection  fail  to  grasp  that  in  so  vast 
a  world  as  London  the  season  has 
always  been  managed  upon  more  or 
less  business-like  lines.  Unless  colo- 
nial women  who  come  to  London  have 
the  advantage  of  either  great  wealth  or 
the  social  prestige  which  surrounds 
the  wife  of  a  Minister  of  the  Crown, 
they  have  little  chance  of  finding  them- 
selves brought  into  close  touch  with 
those  whom  doubtless  they  consider  it  a 
pleasure  and  profit  to  meet.  People, 
especially  women,  might  spend  months 
in  this  vast  metropolis  within  a  stone*s 
throw  of  someone  with  whom  they 
might  find  they  had  much  in  common, 
were  it  not  for  such  a  medium  of  com- 
munication like  the  Ladies'  Empire 
Club,  where  there  is  a  sub-committee 
whose  work  it  is  to  make  known  to 
each  pther  members  of  society  from  all 
parts  of  the  Empire. 

The  work  of  the  Ladies'  Empire 
Club  is  to  draw  together  all  that  is 
best  in  colonial  and  British  society 
circles  without   reference    to    political 


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THE  WHITE   TRILLIUM 


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LADIES'   EMPIRE  CLUB,    LONDON — THE  DRAWING-ROOM 


official  prestige;  and  anyone  who  has 
had  experience  of  life  in  the  great  self- 
governing  colonies  will  admit  that  this 
is  a  work  worthy  of  encouragement. 
Now  comes  the  practical  side  of  the 
question;  what  renders  one  eligible  for 
membership  in  the  Ladies'  Empire 
Club  and  what  expense  does  it  entail  ? 
The  answer  to  this  is  very  simple.  By 
writing  to  the  secretary  a  list  of  mem- 
bers may  be  procured,  and  if  the  person 
desirous  of  becoming  a  member  can 
find  the  names  of  two  of  her  friends  or 
acquaintances  on  the  list  she  can  apply 
to  them  to  propose  and  second  her  as 
a  member,  one  of  them  writing  a  note 


of  introduction  to  the  secretary.  On 
receipt  of  the  notice  of  her  election  she 
will  receive  a  note  of  the  amount  of 
the  entrance  fee,  which  is  one  guinea, 
and  two  guineas  annual  fee  if  in  Eng- 
land, and  only  ten  shillings  and  six- 
pence while  resident  in  the  colonies. 

That  its  existence  in  its  present  and 
permanent  form  is  mainly  due  to  the 
untiring  energy  and  adminstrative  abil- 
ity of  a  Canadian  by  birth  is  one,  and 
certainly  not  the  least,  of  the  reasons 
why  the  Ladies'  Empire  Club  should 
receive  the  cordial  support  and  excite 
the  interest  of  all  Canadians  who  have 
the  welfare  of  the  Empire  at  heart. 


THE    WHITE    TRILLIUM 


BY    INA    HAY 


ARRAYED  in  glory,  far  surpassing  king's. 
Stately  and  pure,  ye  grace  the  woodland  shade; 
Toiling  nor  spinning,  and  all  unafraid 
Ye  shame  the  folly  of  man's  questionings. 


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*' Occasionally  a  little  schooner  calls  at  the  wharf  for  wood" 

AN  OUTING  ON  THE  BAY  OF  FUNDY'S 

SHORE 

By  F.   C.  SEARS* 


HARDLY  know  how  we 
happened  to  decide  on  Mor- 
den  as  a  summer  resort, 
for  we  had  been  warned 
beforehand  that  the  mat- 
tresses there  were  not  of  the  Oster- 
moor  variety,  and  that  it  was  custom- 
ary among  housekeepers  to  boil  tea  for 
twenty  minutes.  But  we  were  ready 
for  some  hardships,  and  I  am  sure  that 
once  we  had  seen  the  place  not  one  in 
the  party  would  have  gone  elsewhere. 
What  we  were  looking  for  was  not  the 
comforts  of  civilization  but  rest,  and 
there  is  more  rest  to  the  square  inch  in 
Morden  than  in  any  other  place  I  have 
ever  seen.- 

It  used  to  do  a  thriving  business  in 
the  days  before  the  railroads,  when 
packets  came  regularly  from  Boston 
and  St.  John,  and  when  one  or  more 
schooners  could  always  be  found  at  the 
wharf  loading  with  wood  for  American 
markets.  But  now,  though  there  is 
still  occasionally  a  little  schooner  calls 
at  the  wharf  for  wood,  everything  but 
the  local  trade  has  gone  over  the  moun- 


tain to  the  railroad  in  "the  Valley,*' 
and  one  walks  along  the  grass-grown 
streets  or  looks  in  through  the  dusty 
windows  of  the  old  custom  house  and 
meditates  upon  the  fluctuations  of 
prosperity  and  the  changefulness  of 
human  ways. 

I  called  it  a  summer  resort,  but  it 
isn't,  and  that  is  one  of  its  chief 
charms.  One  can  wander  about  its 
shores  and  through  its  woods  and 
along  its  roads  and  never  meet  anyone 
except  an  occasional  * 'native"  till  one 
comes  to  feel  a  proprietorship  in  its 
beauties  and  almost  to  resent  the  in- 
trusion of  the  occasional  picnics  from 
the  back  country. 

It  has  its  historical  side,  too,  for 
those  who  lean  in  that  direction  and 
who  like  to  wander  over  the  scenes  of 
Nova  Scotia's  French  tragedy.  For 
here,  in  the  winter  of  1755,  one  of  the 
returning  bands  of  French  Acadians 
settled  and  set  up  a  rude  wooden  cross 
to  mark  the  spot  of  their  landing  and 
the  scene  of  their  sufferings.  And 
when  the  original  cross  rotted  away  it 


*  Photographs  by  the  author  ;  see  also  Frontispiece  in  June  number. 

200 

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AN  OUTING  ON  THE  BAY  OF  FUNDY'S  SHORE 


20I 


was  replaced  by  another  which  still 
stands  (the  second  generation  only) 
and  gives  a  quaint  and  melancholy 
interest  to  the  place.  For  years  the 
village  was  known  as  ** French  Cross," 
and  only  of  late  years  has  it  received 
its  present  name. 

The  chief  charm  of  Morden,  aside 
from  its  restfulness  and  its  exclusive- 
ness,  is  its  variety,  its  resourcefulness. 
It  is  not  like  the  ordinary  watering 
place  where  one  has  only  the  choice 
between  roaming  along  the  beach  and 
going  in  bathing,  or  sitting  by  and 
noting  the  grotesque  bathing  costumes 
of  his  fellow-sufferers.  Here  one  is 
scarcely  obliged  to  do  the  same  thing 
twice  or  to  go  a  second  time  to  the 
same  place.  Even  the  beach  is  vari- 
able. Most  of  it  is  rocky  and  rough, 
due  to  the  rocky  nature  of  the  cliffs 
along  the  shore.  But  if  one  wants 
sand  there  are  stretches  of  beach  as 
smooth  as  a  floor  and  as  soft  as  a  car- 
pet, and  here  (if  one  is  not  made  nerv- 
ous by  the  newspaper  stories  of  the  fierce 
attacks  by  dog-fish  upon  innocent  chil- 
dren and  unfortunate  men)  one  may 
wade  or  bathe  to  one's  heart's  content. 


One  day  we  would  take  our  dinners 
and  tramp  a  couple  of  miles  down  the 
shore  to  the  **East  Gorge,"  and  then, 
following  up  a  little  brook  which  flows 
down  the  gorge,  we  would  come  to  an 
ideal  spot  for  a  noon  camp.  The 
brook  flows  over  immense  ledges  of 
flat  rocks,  many  of  which  lie  bare  ex- 
cept during  spring  freshets,  and  here 
one  can  build  his  Are  and  make  his 
coffee  secure  from  any  danger  of  set- 
ting Are  to  the  neighbouring  forest, 
and  so  secluded  that  it  would  seem 
one  must  be  miles  from  a  human  habi- 
tation. And  after  dinner  had  been 
eaten  and  the  birch-bark  dishes  had 
been  thrown  into  the  Are,  if  we  felt  like 
having  a  nap  (and  we  generally  did, 
having  slept  only  nine  hours  the  night 
before)  we  could  wander  down  to  the 
shore  with  a  blanket  and  a  cushion  and, 
lying  down  upon  the  sand,  fall  asleep 
to  the  murmur  of  the  waves  and  the 
sighing  of  the  winds  along  the  cliffs. 

Another  day,  when  we  were  not  in 
the  mood  for  the  salt  water,  we  would 
go  off  to  the  woods  and  revel  in  its 
shady  nooks  and  its  beautiful  ferns. 
Some  species  of  Aspidium  and  Osmun- 


**Here,  in  the  winter  of  1755,  ^^^  ^^  the  returning  band  of  Acadians  settled  and  set 
up  a  rude  cross  to  mark  the  spot  ....  and  when  the  original  cross  rotted  away  it  was 
replaced   by  another  which  still  stands." 


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da  I  have  never  seen  in  greater  pro- 
fusion nor  finer  specimens.  There  is 
one  path  in  particular  through  a  fine 
stretch  of  birch  and  maple  woods  that 
was  an  endless  delight  to  us  with  its 
borders  of  ferns,  its  beautiful  banks  of 
Linnsa  borealis,  its  patches  of  bunch- 
berry  (Cornus  Canadensis)  and  the 
countless  other  woodsy  friends,  some 
of  them  known  to  us  by  name,  and 
others  only  by  their  faces. 


a  good  view  of  the  water,  and  read 
from  the  pages  of  **  Kim  *'  (it  was  the 
first  year  the  book  was  out),  or  watch 
some  schooner  beating  up  the  bay. 
Usually  the  schooner  received  more  of 
our  attention  than  **  Kim,"  for  what 
was  the  use  of  struggling  with  such 
passages  as — **  It  was  a  boy  who  came 
to  me  in  place  of  him  who  died,  on 
account  of  the  merit  which  I  had  gained 
when  I  bowed  before  the  law  within 


"An  ideal  spot  for  a  noon  camp" 


And  then  there  was  the  road!  When 
other  attractions  failed  it  could  always 
be  relied  upon.  It  skirts  the  shores 
for  miles,  never  far  from  the  water, 
and  always  beautiful;  winding  among 
tall  spruce  trees,  passing  over  quaint 
old  bridges,  and  giving  one  continual 
glimpses  of  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  with  its 
gulls  and  its  ships  and  its  tides.  If 
the  day  was  warm  we  would  sit  down 
under  some  spruce  tree  where  we  had 


there,"  when  one  could  lie  down  quietly 
and  chew  spruce  gum  while  speculat- 
ing on  whether  the  particular  schooner 
under  observation  had  been  to  the 
other  side  of  the  world  with  some  of 
our  lumber,  or  was  only  up  from  New 
York  with  a  cargo  of  high-priced 
anthracite  coal. 

But  it  was  on  the  cool,  crisp  days  of 
early  autumn  that  we  frequented  the 
road    most    regularly   and    enjoyed  it 


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203 


most  thoroughly.  When  the  asters 
had  begun  to  fade  and  the  golden 
rod  was  in  its  prime;  when  the  oc- 
casional maples  among  the  spruces 
had  lighted  their  beacon  fires  as  a 
warning  to  the  wood  folks  that  win- 
ter was  at  hand,  and  when  the  winds 
off  the  Bay  were  strong  and  cold  and 
bracing,  then  it  was  that  we  tramp- 
ed along  the  road  for  hours,  or  sat 
down  by  its  side  in  a  sunny  spot  and 
read  Van  Dyke's  **  Little  Rivers,"  or 
talked  of  home,  or  simply  loafed  in 
silence. 

If  one  cares  for  fish  one  should  go 
earlier  than  we  did,  for  after  the  first 
of  August  the  dog-fish  take  posses- 
sion of  the  Bay,  and  all  less  blood- 
thirsty and  more  palatable  fish  re- 
tire.     Sometimes  one  can  get  a  small 
cod-fish,    and    occasionally    one   of 
the  weirs  along  shore  captures  some 
**herrin',"  but  these  are  the  excep- 
tions, and  the  rule  is  that  one  eats 
salt  fish,  or  none  at  all.     On  our  first 
visit  to  the  place,  before  we  were  fully 
initiated   into   the    local  piscatorial 
lore,  we  bought  a  small  **hake,"  and 
boiled  it  for  supper   at   our  camp- 
fire  on  the  shore.     But  after  the  meal 
was  over  we  were  strongly  inclined  to 
agree  with  our  landlord,  who  remarked 
when  he  saw  us  bringing  the  fish  up 
from    the     wharf — '*  What    you    got 
there,   a    hake?     Why,  they  ain't  no 


**  Under  a  spruce  iree  where  there  was  a  good  view  of  the  water " 


>^    ^ 


'*Fall  asleep  to  the  sighing  of  the  winds 
along  the  cliffs" 

good  *cept  to  make  boneless  cod-fish  of." 
I  don't  know  whether  the  sunsets  at 
Morden  are  particularly  fine,  or  whether 
it  was  only  that  our  appreciation  of  all 
the  beauties  of  Nature  had  been  sharp- 
ened along  with  our  appetites,  but  I 

do  know 
that  we 
never  failed 
to  be  down 
at  the  shore 
when  there 
was  likely 
to  be  a  sun- 
set (I  mean 
a  spectacu- 
lar one), 
and  that 
we  enjoyed 
them  as  we 
had  never 
enjoyed 
sunsets  be- 
fore. 

Another 
joy    of  the 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


*  There  are  stretches  of  beach  as  smooth  as  a  floor " 


evening  was  our  nightly  bonfire.  Bon- 
fires were  almost  as  frequent  as  the 
sunsets,  quite  as  frequent  as  the  beauti- 
ful ones,  and  we  could  have  them  with 
almost  as  little  effort.  The  shore  all 
about  Morden  is  lined  with  driftwood 
varying  in  size  from  splintered  shingles 
to  broken  masts,  and  we  had  only  to 
pile  it  up,  set  it  on  fire,  and  then  sit 
down  and  enjoy  it.  And  as  the  sunset 
faded  and  the  night  shut  down  we  piled 
more  wood  upon  our  fire,  and  told 
stories,  or  sang  songs,  or  watched  for 
the  revolving  light  on  the  Isle  of  Haut. 
But  the  day  finally  came  when  we 
had  to  leave  it  all,  and  after  we  had 
paid  a  last  visit  to  the  French  Cross, 
and  had  watched  the  breakers  for  the 
last  time;  when  for  the  last  time  we  had 

**  Heard    the   wild    gulls    screaming   at   the 
turning  of  the  tide," 


and  had  shaken  hands  with  our  moth- 
erly landlady,  we  climbed  into  our 
"wsLggon  and  drove  slowly  and  rather 
silently  over  the  Mountain  and  down 
into  **the  Valley"  to  the  railroad  sta- 
tion. And  as  we  looked  back  for  the 
last  time  to  the  blue  waters  of  the  Bay 
and  the  little  white  lighthouse  on  the 
Isle  of  Haut  we  felt  like  children  leav- 
ing home,  and  said  that  we  must  come 
again. 

And  what  of  the  expense  of  it  all  ? 
Well,  it  wasn't  excessive,  as  I  think 
you  will  agree  when  I  say  that  the 
share  of  the  two  members  of  the  party 
for  whom  I  was  personally  responsible 
amounted  to  $16.83  ^^^  two  weeks, 
and  that  included  transportation 
charges  to  and  from  the  railroad  and 
the  ten  cents  which  we  spent  for  that 
**hake." 


THE    RURAL   CALENDAR 


BY    INGLIS    MORSE 

STAGE  after  stage,  sweet  flowers  come  and  go 
To  fill  some  corner  of  the  Calendar. 
The  pale  anemone,  the  rose  so  fair. 
Breathe  out  their  glories  with  the  season's  flow. 

Dear  Nature's  chronicler  each  passing  day 
Reveals  some  beauty  in  the  leafy  dell — 
Some  kindly  thought  of  God  would  gladly  tell 

To  him  who  chances  passing  by  that  way. 

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n 

i 


AN    ODE    FOR    THE    CANADIAN 
CONFEDERACY* 

BY    CHARLES     G.     D.     ROBERTS 

AWAKE,  my  country,  the  hour  is  great  with  change! 
Under  this  gloom  which  yet  obscures  the  land, 
From  ice-blue  strait  and  stern  Laurentian  range 

To  where  giant  peaks  our  western  bounds  command, 
A  deep  voice  stirs,  vibrating  in  men's  ears 

As  if  their  own  hearts  throbbed  that  thunder  forth, 
A  sound  wherein  who  hearkens  wisely  hears 
The  voice  of  the  desire  of  this  strong  North, — 
This  North  whose  heart  of  fire 
Yet  knows  not  its  desire 
Clearly,  but  dreams,  and  murmurs  in  the  dream. 
The  hour  of  dreams  is  done.     Lo,  on  the  hills  the  gleam! 

Awake,  my  country,  the  hour  of  dreams  is  done! 

Doubt  not,  nor  dread  the  greatness  of  thy  fate. 
Tho'  faint  souls  fear  the  keen,  confronting  sun. 

And  fain  would  bid  the  morn  of  splendour  wait; 
Tho'  dreamers,  rapt  in  starry  visions,  cry, 

**Lo,  yon  thy  future,  yon  thy  faith,  thy  fame!" 
And  stretch  vain  hands  to  stars,  thy  fame  is  nigh, 

Here  in  Canadian  hearth,  and  home,  and  name; — 
This  name  which  yet  shall  grow 
Till  all  the  nations  know 
Us  for  a  patriot  people,  heart  and  hand 
Loyal  to  our  native  earth, — our  own  Canadian  land! 

O  strong  hearts,  guarding  the  birthright  of  our  glory, 

Worth  your  best  blood  this  heritage  that  ye  guard! 
Those  mighty  streams  resplendent  wnth  our  story, 

These  iron  coasts  by  rage  of  seas  unjarred, — 
What  fields  of  peace  these  bulwarks  well  secure! 

What  vales  of  plenty  those  calm  floods  supply! 
Shall  not  our  love  this  rough,  sweet  land  make  sure, 

Her  bounds  preserve  inviolate,  though  we  die? 
O  strong  hearts  of  the  North, 
Let  flame  your  loyalty  forth, 
And  put  the  craven  and  base  to  an  open  shame. 
Till  earth  shall  know  the  Child  of  Nations  by  her  name! 


o 


9 


*  One  of  the  earliest  and  most  noted  of  Professor  Roberts'  poems. 
Reproduced  by  permission  in  honour  of  Dominion  Day. 


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LITERARY   PORTRAITS 

By  HALDANE  MACFALL,  Author  of  The  Masterfolk;'  ''The  Wooings 

of  Jezebel  Pettyfer,''  Etc. 

III.  — RICHARD    WHITEING 


STRONG,  sturdy  figure  of 
a  man  is  Richard  Whiteing 
at  a  hale  sixty  years;  and 
his  breezy  belief  in  the  in- 
nate dignity  and  eventual 
triumph  of  democracy  is  as  hale  as  he. 
To  the  world  at  large,  Richard 
Whiteing  came  to  life  in  1899  with  a 
novel,  "No.  5,  John  Street;"  but, 
though  he  began  to  exist  on  the  eve  of 
his  sixtieth  year  for  most  of  us,  he  was 
already  a  personage  in  upper  journal- 
ism, and  Paris  knew  him — as  he  knew 
Paris — wondrous  well. 

Richard  Whiteing  hopes  to  see  the 
world  as  a  vast  garden  for  the  average 
man.  His  shrewd  eyes  see  through 
the  pettiness  of  the  claims,  and  the 
aims,  and  the  habits,  and  the  pretence 
of  a  mere  privileged  class  to  hold 
dominion  over  the  state.  He  shews 
with  genial  statement  but  with  dogged 
insistence,  with  calm  utterance — and 
restrained  emotion,  yet  nevertheless  in- 
sistently, that  the  living  of  life  is  not 
for  a  class — that  decency  of  life  and  en- 
joyment of  life,  and  the  right  to  live 
that  life  in  a  healthy,  human  way,  are 
the  absolute  birthright  of  every  human 
soul. 

And  with  biting  satire — for  he  is  a 
master  of  satire  rather  than  of  humour 
— he  shews  the  decadency  that  sets  in, 
and  the  wholesale  misery  that  results, 
from  any  one  class  shirking  its  respon- 
sibilities of  labour,  and  filching  the 
leisure  from  another  class.  For,  be 
you  sure  of  this,  whether  aristocrat  or 
democrat,  red-hot  Nihilist  or  cloistral 
nun,  what  one  class  repudiates  in 
labour,  and  filches  in  pleasure,  by  so 
much  shall  another  class  pay  the  debt 
of  labour,  and  be  filched  of  its  pleasure. 
There  is  world's  work  to  be  done; 
and  every  man's  hand  must  do  it  if  it 
shall  be  done  sanely,  and  healthily  in 
the  doing.     If  an  enriched  class  shirk 


its  duties  to  the  state,  and  live  a  life 
of  pleasure,  the  class  below  must  do  its 
own  work  and  the  repudiated  work  of 
the  class  above;  and  the  heel  of  the  re- 
pudiated tyranny  will  grind  the  heaviest 
on  the  lowest  class  of  all,  the  injustice 
being  transmitted  in  ever-increasing^ 
violence.  And  the  more  populous  the 
state  the  more  cruel  the  harshnessy 
until  the  labourer  shall  be  worn  out 
with  excess  of  grey  toil  that  knows  no 
joy,  and  the  mighty  populace  rots  like 
a  foetid  thing. 

So  a  large  people,  robbed  of  vitality 
and  a  healthy  day,  becomes  of  less 
worth  than  a  small  people  of  vigorous 
life;  for  that  people  is  the  mightiest 
that  breeds  the  strongest  average  man. 
And  the  law  justifies  itself  utterly;  for 
the  privileged  class  becomes  bored  by 
its  very  excess  of  pleasure,  by  its 
tedious  having  nothing  to  do — the  very 
thing  for  which  it  has  striven  turns  to 
the  ashes  of  Dead  Sea  fruit  in  its 
mouth.  It  does  not  even  produce  a 
fine  virile  upper  class,  which  might  be 
some  source  of  comfort  out  of  the  cruel 
murk. 

These  things  Whiteing  set  down  in 
terms  of  art,  and  gave  us  '*No.  5,  John 
Street" — the  millionaire's  son  wasting- 
his  years  trying  on  suits  of  clothes^ 
dawdling  through  a  scented  elaborate 
day,  a  day  scented  and  elaborated  to 
keep  the  pit  of  boredom  from  yawning^ 
at  his  feet,  paying  large  sums  for  polo 
ponies  to  knock  about  a  little  ball  on 
the  grass  at  Hurlingham,  sums  that 
would  keep  a  dozen  families  in  health 
and  in  freedom  from  the  ghastly  over- 
toil that  ruins  the  race — whilst,  hard 
by,  in  filthy  garret  and  noisome  den» 
the  sweated  toiler  grows  blind  and 
starved  and  puny  and  demoralized,  in 
tragic  and  sordid  days  that  are  worse 
than  death. 

Thus  justice  dies,  and  the  law  be- 


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LITERARY  PORTRAITS 


207 


RICHARD  WHITEING,    AUTHOR   OF    **NO.    5,   JOHN  STREET" 


comes  the  law  of  the  rich;  until  at  last 
some  half- crazed  fellow  looks  at  the 
fantastic  thing  he  has  been  calling  life, 
looks  up  from  the  bench  to  which  he 
has  been  a  tied  slave,  shades  his  half- 
mad  eyes  with  starved,  lank  fingers, 
and  sees  the  coach  of  the  rich  dawdler 
go  by,  sees  the  bored  shirker  of  toil 
yawn  at  his  fantastic  life;  and,  poor 
fool !  he  rises  and  sets  what  little 
peevish  will  remains  to  him  to  the  mak- 
ing of  a  bomb,  flings  the  bomb 
amongst  innocent  people,  and  jigs  into 
eternity  at  the  end  of  a  gallows  rope 
for  the  whim  of  his  mad  tomfoolery. 
And  the  dawdler  rolls  on  and  on,  and 
yawns  and  yawns. 

So  Richard  Whiteing,   a  big,  burly 
man,  thunders  for  a  big,  burly,  healthy 


race.  That  large  peoples  shall  set 
small  peoples  under  their  heels  becomes 
every  day  more  evident;  and  that  the 
large  people  that  breeds  the  healthy 
average  man  must  overpower  the  large 
people  of  the  less  healthy  average  man 
goes  also  without  proof;  and  that  a 
large  people  who  have  self-respect  will 
govern  themselves  and  not  be  govern- 
ed by  a  privileged  class  is  a  fact  which 
has  perhaps  even  less  need  for  proof; 
therefore  a  great  people  must  be  a  de- 
mocracy. 

And  of  a  surety  this  man  of  large  ob- 
servation of  men  and  peoples  is  right. 
He  has  watched  the  wondrous  develop- 
ment of  this  England  of  ours  during 
the  last  thirty  years — he  has  been  in 
close   and    intimate    touch    with    the 


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enormous  but  silent  revolution  in 
France.  He  has  seen  England  in- 
crease by  her  imperial  instinct,  logical- 
ly blind,  but  vitally  right;  he  has  seen 
France  healing  herself  and  strengthen- 
ing her  shattered  nerves  by  the  reverse 
process,  by  her  clean-cut,  logical  tact. 
And  no  man  shall  have  seen  these 
things  and  dread  the  people. 

It  is  for  this  reason  I  detest  the 
word  Empire  and  prefer  the  word 
Commonwealth.  And  that  Common- 
wealths must  stand  for  the  eventual 
mastery  of  the  world  who  shall  deny  ? 
If  you  would  see  these  things  in  pro- 
portion you  must  look  at  man  in  the 
large — trace  him  from  the  beginning — 
and  what  is  the  tale  that  the  years  have 
to  tell  us  ? 

Out  of  the  mystic  ways,  the  eager 
life  that  is  at  the  core  of  all  existing 
things,  evolving  from  stage  to  stage, 
found  its  supremest  habitation  in  the 
wondering  creature  that  dropped  from 
its  ape-like  habits  in  the  trees,  and, 
with  ungainly  straddle  on  the  firm 
earth,  took  its  upright  stand  upon  ten- 
tative hind  legs — falteringly,  hesitat- 
ingly, bodying  itself  forth  as  Man — the 
Thinking  Thing. 

Life's  cunning,  with  increasing  cun- 
ning, is  become  reason  in  this  blinking 
thing  that  thinks.  It  notes  the  hand's 
use,  and  the  value  of  that  wondrous 
thumb  that  is  on  the  hand — to  grip,  to 
throw,  to  hold.  That  thumb  that,  with 
the  brain's  cunning  for  guidance,  is  to 
enable  the  hand  to  chip  tools  and 
weapons  from  the  flint,  and  give  con- 
fidence to  this  naked,  defenceless, 
shivering  being,  and  lead  him  from  his 
lair  in  the  thicket  and  the  cave  out  into 
the  open  strife;  that,  for  his  body's 
welfare  and  sustenance,  with  pitfall  and 
with  gin,  is  to  put  to  naught  the  lion's 
strength,  the  wolfs  tooth,  the  wild 
boar's  fury,  so  that  he  shall  wrap  the 
skins  of  these  about  him  against  the 
frost's  nipping  cold,  and  use  their  hides 
to  protect  his  feet;  that  hand  that  is  to 
strike  fire  from  the  chill  flint  and  bring 
warmth  into  the  chattering  winter,  and 
give  rise  to  the  potter's  art;  fire  where- 
by also  the  earth's  metals  at  last  yield- 


ed their  ductile  strength  to  his  en- 
franchisement; that  hand  that  is  to 
break  the  dog  and  horse  to  man's  bid- 
ding, and  gather  together  flocks  and 
herds  that  he  may  roam  the  pastures  of 
the  world;  and,  his  wander-years  being 
done,  that  is  to  fashion  the  plough 
whereby  he  shall  settle  on  the  land  and 
till  the  ruddy  earth  and  gather  in  the 
harvest  to  his  body's  use;  that  is  to  in- 
vent the  distaff  and  the  loom  to  the 
weaving  of  cloth;  that  is  to  knit  the 
fisher's  net;  that  is  to  make  the  vast, 
wide  world  tributary  to  him — the  ele- 
ments and  the  brutes,  the  valley  and 
the  plain,  and  rock  and  stream  and 
raging  seas,  so  that  the  exquisite  eye 
of  man  shall  see  the  stars  a  myriad 
leagues  beyond  the  eagle's  utmost  ken, 
his  skill  of  transit  make  the  swiftness 
of  the  antelope  a  sluggard's  pace,  his 
calculating  hand  cage  the  strength  of 
many  horses  in  the  machinery's  wheel- 
ed intricacies. 

He  increased  his  strength  in  the 
close-knit  brotherhood  of  the  clan.  He 
foregathered  into  villages,  uniting  his 
skill  and  strength,  and  the  trades  and 
crafts  arose  to  the  mutual  strengthen- 
ing of  the  people.  Power  and  increas- 
ing fulness  of  life  passed  from  the  wild 
fellow  of  the  cavern  to  the  wandering 
tribe — passed  from  the  wandering  tribe 
to  the  settled  village — from  them  that 
were  in  villages  to  them  that  fore- 
gathered within  the  stout  walls  of  the 
populous  city — from  the  city  to  the 
state,  whose  might  crumbled  the  city's 
walls,  grown  inadequate  against  the 
power  of  states — passed  from  the  state 
to  the  mighty  race  that  is  fenced  about 
to  her  uttermost  frontiers  solely  by  the 
majestic  bulwarks  of  her  daring  spirits. 

Kingship  has  passed  to  the  Com- 
monweal, and  the  sceptre  is  in  the 
hands  of  the  manhood  of  the  people. 
And  in  our  inmost  hearts  we  know  this 
thing  to  be  true,  be  we  Tory  or  Whig, 
socialist  or  individualist.  We  may 
sneer  away  ideals  as  fairy  tales,  but  the 
godhood  in  man  leads  to  an  ideal,  and 
they  who  fear  to  walk  thereto  must  fall 
and  be  trodden  under  foot  by  a  master 
race. 


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CANADIAN    CELEBRITIES 


No.    52— RICHARD    McBRIDE 


HESE  are  the  days  of  op- 
portunity for  the  young" 
man  of  ability  and  capacity, 
when  occasion  is  certain  to 
call  him  to  commanding 
position.  Perhaps  there  is  no  Province 
in  Confederation  where  there  is  so 
much  need  of  a  strong  man  as  leader 
of  the  people  as  in  British  Columbia, 
and  at  last,  after  waiting  long,  it  is 
felt  that  the  occasion  has  produced 
him.  Since  the  days  of  the  late  Hon. 
John  Robson  that  Province  has  lan- 
guished under  the  confusion  and  un- 
certainties which  must  ever  exist  under, 
and  seem  to  be  inseparable  from,  non- 
party government,  the  members  of 
which  ignored  the  public  and  were  not 
responsible  to  any  party  or  principle, 
which  might  in  itself  have  proved  a 
curb  upon  careless  or  culpable  action. 
The  consequence  was  that  the  Province 
was  despoiled  in  every  way  possible. 
There  are  those  who  extol  non-party 
government,  holding  that  it  presents 
all  the  qualities  that  make  for  the  gen- 
eral good,  but  it  was  tried  in  the 
Dominion,  it  was  tried  in  Ontario  in 
the  early  days,  it  is  now  under  trial  in 
the  Northwest  Territories,  and  it  has 
but  recently  ceased  in  British  Colum- 
bia. Everywhere  a  failure  and  a  dis- 
appointment by  its  own  operations,  it 
was  particularly  disastrous  in  British 
Columbia  where,  under  its  wing,  the 
public  domain,  which  should  now 
prove  an  invaluable  asset  of  the  Prov- 
ince, was  sacrificed  piecemeal  to  covet- 
ous and  rapacious  political  hacks  who 
were  in  public  life  evidently  for  what 
they  could  get  out  of  it.  Farming 
lands,  timber  lands,  coal  lands,  mining 
lands  were  alienated  from  public  use 
and  became  the  private  possession  of 
individuals  to  exploit  for  their  own 
profit.  After  Hon.  John  Turner,  who 
honestly  tried  to  carry  on  an  upright 
Government,  but  was  prevented  by  the 
faults  of  those  about  him,  there  was  a 
brief  spell  of  Hon.  Mr.  Semlin,  who  did 


no  better,  and  then  came  Hon.  Joseph 
Martin.  It  is  said  of  Mr.  Martin  that 
the  chief  cause  of  his  unpopularity  was 
the  firm  hand  he  put  forth  to  hold  polit- 
ical cormorants  in  check,  but  however 
that  may  be,  he  left  non-party  govern- 
ment more  chaotic  than  it  had  been  be- 
fore his  coming. 

Hon.  James  Dunsmuir  was  not  able 
to  improve  matters,  and  it  was  during 
his  administration  that  the  people 
nearly  lost  the  South  Kootenay  Pass 
coal  fields,  contiguous  to  the  Crow's 
Nest  Pass  coal  measures,  and  consider- 
ed to  be  equally  as  valuable,  the  only 
piece  of  coal  land  of  consequence  that 
the  public  now  own.  Mr.  Martin 
made  very  warm  times  for  Mr.  Duns- 
muir from  the  other  side  of  the  House, 
and  the  latter,  on  the  principle  that  if 
one  cannot  destroy  his  enemy  the  next 
best  thing  to  do  is  to  conciliate  him, 
made  a  compact  with  Mr.  Martin  that 
hurt  Mr.  Dunsmuir  far  more  in  the 
public  esteem  than  it  could  possibly 
benefit  hint)  had  it  been  ever  so  popular. 

Then  came  Col.  Prior,  formerly  a 
representative  of  the  city  of  Victoria  in 
the  Dominion  Parliament.  A  strict 
parliamentarian,  an  upright  and  con- 
scientious man,  the  people  hailed  in 
him  one  on  whom  they  could  reason- 
ably repose  hope  to  save  them  from 
those  who  were  eager  to  grasp  such  of 
the  public  lands  as  were  left,  or  to  get 
any  sort  of  a  concession  that  might 
prove  a  marketable  commodity.  It 
was  during  Col.  Prior's  premiership 
that  the  granting  of  the  South  Koot- 
enay coal  lands  to  the  C.P.R.  by  the 
Dunsmuir  Government  came  up  for 
decision.  Col.  Prior  took  high 
ground  on  that  matter  and  insisted  on 
certain  members  of  the  Cabinet  resign- 
ing. Then  someone  went  over  to  the 
Department  of  Public  Works  and 
secured  a  copy  of  an  account  showing 
that  Col.  Prior's  firm  had  received  pub- 
lic money  for  a  cable  supplied  for  a 
Government  work,  and  with  this  and 


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RICHARD   MCRRIDE,    PREMIER   OF   BRITISH   COLUMBIA 


a  copy  of  the  contract  his  firm  had 
made  Col.  Prior  was  confronted.  This 
was  clearly  an  infringement  of  the  In- 
dependence of  Parliament  Act,  and  the 
Lieutenant-Governor  called  upon  Col. 
Prior  to  resign,  which  that  gentleman 
was  forthwith  constrained  to  do. 

There  sat  in  the  Chamber  for  several 
sessions,  a  quiet  observer  of  these 
many  strange  things  and  a  ready 
speaker  when  occasion  required,  a 
young  lawyer  from  New  Westminster 
named  Richard  McBride,  known  to 
some  as  **Dick*'  McBride,  for  he  was 
familiar  to  most  and  a  favourite  with 
all.  Commanding  in  appearance,  al- 
ways faultlessly  dressed,  invariably 
engaging  in  manner,  he  was  a  striking 
figure  in  that  House,  which  has  seen 
many  able  and  fine-looking  men. 

Mr.  McBride  is  one  of  the  native 
born,  **native  sons"  they  are  called  out 
there,  the  date  of  his    nativity  being 


Dec.  15,  1870,  and  the  place  New 
Westminster,  where  his  father  held 
office  under  the  Crown,  so  that  he  is 
now  in  his  thirty-fifth  year.  He  was 
primarily  educated  in  the  public  and 
high  schools  of  his  native  place  and 
finished  at  Dalhousie  University,  Hali- 
fax, N.S.,  whence  he  graduated  LL.B. 
in  April,  1900.  Returning  to  New 
Westminster  he  entered  law,  in  due 
course  was  called  to  the  bar  and  prac- 
tised for  some  time.  From  his  youth 
he  inclined  to  politics  as  an  attractive 
science  worthy  of  mastery,  and  early 
he  took  part  in  the  discussion  of  pub- 
lic questions,  gaining  considerable 
prominence,  so  that  in  1896  he  was 
looked  upon  as  a  promising  man  and 
was  nominated  for  the  Commons  in  the 
New  Westminster  district,  but  was 
defeated  by  Mr.  Auley  Morrison. 
However,  he  had  had  an  opportunity 
to  show  his  power  and  win  widespread 


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good- will,  so  that  when  he  came  be- 
fore the  people  again  in  1898,  as  a 
caDdidate  for  the  Provincial  Legisla- 
ture in  the'  riding  of  Dewdney,  he  was 
easily  elected,  as  he  was  again  in  1900. 
In  that  year  Hon.  Mr.  DunsmiUr  saw 
in  the  good-looking  and  able  young 
lawyer  from  the  banks  of  the  Fraser  a 
supporter  worthy  of  encouragement, 
and  he  was  appointed  a  member  of  the 
Government,  being  assigned  the  port- 
folio of  Minister  of  Mines.  Hon  Mr. 
DuDsmuir  was  inclined  to  conciliation 
of  his  foes  rather  than  to  fighting  them, 
and  when  he  called  Mr.  J.  C.  Brown, 
of  Richmond,  into  his  Cabinet,  Mr. 
McBride  objected,  his  protestation  tak- 
ing the  form  of  resignation  and  he 
went  into  opposition.  He  also  went 
over  to  Richmond  and  was  instru- 
mental in  defeating  Mr.  Brown  in  his 
own  constituency  when,  as  a  Cabinet 
minister,  he  went  back  for  re-election. 
He  continued  to  lead  the  opposition 
until  the  session  of  1903,  Col.  Prior  in 
the  meantime  having  succeeded  Hon. 
Mr.  Dunsmuir.  So  that  when  Col. 
Prior  retired  from  the  Hou.«(e,  Mr.  Mc- 
Bride was  by  no  means  a  novice.  He 
was  not  exactly  "  an  old  Parliamentary 
hand,"  but  he  had  the  advantage  of 
some  experience  and  it  was  seen  that 
he  was  on  the  way  to  the  front  benches. 
The  opposition,  made  up  of  men  of  all 
parties,  was  not  strong,  but  it  con- 
tained some  good  debating  talent  and 
some  likely  politicians,  of  whom  young 
*•  Billy"  Mclnnes,  of  Alberni,  was  prob- 
ably the  brightest  and  cleverest.  It 
is  understood  that  when  Col.  Prior 
resigned  he  advised  the  Lieutenant- 
Governor,  Sir  Henri  Joli  de  Lotbiniere, 
to  call  a  member  of  the  House,  who 
was  a  Conservative,  to  form  a  Minis- 
try. Sir  Henri  is  not  a  Conservative 
and  did  not  incline  that  way.  Under 
the  circumstances  he  favoured  the  non- 
party plan  of  government,  though  its 
faults  and  weaknesses  were  plain  and 
it  had  brought  the  Province  to  the 
verge  of  bankruptcy.  The  Lieutenant- 
Governor  was  intent  on  keeping  out 
party  politics,  it  was  whispered,  especi- 
ally Conservative  politics.  But  whom 
should  he  call  ?  Now,  there  was  young 


McBride,  able,  wise  beyond  his  years, 
tactful  and  amiable,  and  these  quali- 
ties appealed  to  the  courtly  Sir  Henri, 
whom  the  Princess  Louise  compli- 
mented as  the  best  gentleman  in  Ca- 
nada. Mr.  McBride  led  a  non-party 
opposition,  and  if  called  would  he  not 
form  his  Cabinet  from  among  those 
around  him  ?  Here  was  the  man,  then, 
to  form  the  Government.  So  Mr.  Mc- 
Bride was  called  and  accepted  the 
task.  The  way  he  went  about  it  must 
have  been  a  disappointment  to  Sir 
Henri.  There  was  none  who  saw  the 
defects  of  non-party  government  in  the 
Province  clearer  than  theyoung  Premier 
did.  He  had  seen  men  of  honour  and 
high  purpose  trying  to  do  what  was 
impossible  under  that  system,  premiers 
who  had  a  working  majority  one  day 
and  through  some  quibble  lost  it  the 
next.  He  had  seen  men  for  mere  sel- 
fish ends  pass  from  one  side  of  the 
House  to  the  other.  He  had  passed 
from  one  side  to  the  other  himself,  but 
that  was  on  a  matter  of  principle.  Had 
he  consulted  selfish  interests  he  would 
not  have  done  so,  but  his  duty  to  him- 
self and  to  the  people  demanded  that 
he  should  so  protest  against  what  he 
could  not  approve  gf.  He  also  saw 
that  the  complications  to  which  the 
system  gave  rise,  in  putting  the  First 
Minister  at  the  mercy  of  a  refractory 
majority  that  might  make  exactions 
the  price  of  their  support,  paralyzed  all 
efforts  at  good  government,  destroyed 
confidence  in  legislation,  which  to-day 
was  and  to-morrow  was  not,  and  ren- 
dered the  Executive  powerless  to  effect 
any  lasting  good.  For  years  the  Prov- 
ince had  been  the  plaything  and  the 
prey  of  designing  politicians  ready  to 
appropriate  anything  for  themselves  or 
to  secure  the  profits  of  appropriating 
for  others  by  act  of  Parliament.  What 
would  stop  this  brigandage,  restore 
confidence  in  legislation,  and  serve  to 
rehabilitate  the  decaying  credit  and 
diminishing  honour  of  the  Province, 
rich  in  everything  but  men  great  and 
courageous  enough  to  fight  the  good 
fight  without  any  regard  to  self? 
Party  government  would  in  a  measure 
serve ;  federal  party  lines  with  a  strong 


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government  and  a  watchful  opposition 
ready  to  see  and  resent  any  improprie- 
ties. Then  members  could  not  tumble 
from  one  side  of  the  House  to  the 
other  to  further  sordid  ends.  Repre- 
sentatives would  not  only  be  respon- 
sible to  the  House  and  to  the  people, 
but  to  the  party  to  which  they  be- 
longed, the  conventions  that  nominated 
them,  and  particularly  to  the  caucus, 
which  would  discipline  them  while  in 
attendance  at  the  House.  And  the  re- 
sult would  be  good  and  conscientious 
men  in  Parliament,  consistent  with  its 
dignity  and  with  the  dignity  of  the 
Province.  ''  Everything  is  on  a  colossal 
scale  in  this  magnificent  Province," 
said  Mr.  Edward  Hewitt  in  an  impas- 
sioned speech  at  a  public  gathering  in 
Vancouver.  *  'Everything  great — great 
coal  measures,  great  mineral  deposits, 
great  timber  areas,  great  fisheries  ; 
but  there  is  one  thing  lacking,  gentle- 
men, and  that  is  great  men,"  a  happy 
'  and  accurate  estimate  of  the  condition 
of  affairs. 

Premier  McBride  found  that  public 
opinion  was  with  him  in  declaring  for 
party  lines.  Weary  of  Cabinet  shufHes, 
weary  of  the  handspring  politicians 
who  tumbled  from  one  side  to  the 
other,  weary  of  defeated  governments, 
harassed  by  frequent  elections  that 
disturbed  and  disorganized  everything 
and  effected  no  change  for  the  better, 
the  people  plainly  saw  that  party  gov- 
ernment, whether  Liberal  or  Conserva- 
tive, would  at  least  give  something 
tangible  to  depend  upon,  and  Premier 
McBride  had  their  full  sympathy  in  the 
course  he  had  chosen.  Any  change 
would  be  better  than  the  uncertainty 
and  confusion  that  had  hitherto  existed. 
So,  after  considering  the  matter  in 
all  its  bearings,  and  after  exhaustive 
conferences  with  his  friends  and  even 
those  opposed  to  him,  Hon.  Richard 
McBride  publicly  declared  for  federal 
party  lines,  being  the  first  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  Province  to  assay  so  bold 
a  step.  He  was  a  Conservative  and 
had  always  been  so,  but  if  the  fortunes 
of  war  decreed  that  he  should  go  into 
opposition,  then  into  opposition  he 
would  go  and  bend  all  his  energies  to 


securing  honest  administration  of  af- 
fairs, so  that  the  Province  wherein  he 
was  born  and  bred .  and  was  dear  to 
him  should  take  the  honourable  position 
in  Confederation  that  was  hers,  and  be 
placed  upon  a  stable  basis  that  would 
restore  confidence  in  her  industries, 
revive  those  which  through  irksome 
and  unwise  legislation  were  dead  of 
neglect  or  dormant  through  disuse, 
and  make  the  land  one  to  which  the 
British  and  the  Canadian  investor 
could  come  with  the  surety  that  his 
undertakings  would  not  be  crippled  by 
quibbling  legislative  enactment  or  his 
enterprise  hampered  by  injurious  im- 
posts. 

That  the  determination  of  the  young 
Premier  to  take  the  important  step 
his  declaration  foreshadowed  should 
arouse  considerable  comment  and 
criticism  was  to  be  expected.  It  dis- 
turbed the  old-timers,  who  were  con- 
tent to  jog  along  under  the  old  arrange- 
ment, thinking  it  perfection,  for  was  it 
not  as  in  days  past,  and  all  change  is 
suspicious,  if  not  dangerous.  Nes- 
cient and  narrow  is  the  old-timer,  as  a 
rule,  wherever  found.  Apotheosis  of 
the  past  is  the  chief  tenet  of  his 
restricted  creed.  Modernity  is  intol- 
erable to  him,  for  nothing  is  equal  to 
what  was  long  ago.  Even  the  seasons 
were  better  in  the  forties  and  the  fifties, 
before  weather  experts  began  juggling 
with  them.  The  suggestions  and 
opinions  of  newcomers,  always  mean- 
ing change,  are  not  to  be  tolerated. 
They  "  make  him  sick."  It  is  difficult 
to  grapple  with  this  sort  of  prejudice, 
hard  at  any  time  to  overcome  it. 
Hon.  Mr.  McBride  is  no  cheechahco 
(newcomer)  himself,  but  he  does  not 
class  with  the  grand  old  pioneers  of 
the  Province,  the  men  who  almost 
half  a  century  before  the  stork  left  him 
at  his  father's  door  in  New  Westmin- 
ster, were  pounding  the  cheerless  trails 
of  the  interior  with  slabs  of  pork  and 
sacks  of  flour  on  their  backs,  opening 
up  the  country  to  enterprise  and  civ- 
ilization. No,  sir-ee.  They  were  the 
men  who  made  British  Columbia. 
They  know  how  much  salseratus  to  put 
in  their  bread,  and  they  knew  how  ta 


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213 


govern,  too.  So  they  did  not  take 
kindly  to  the  innovation  the  young 
Premier  sprang*  on  them.  Halo!  And 
it  also  disturbed  the  happy  family  of 
venerable  old  somnambulists.  Whig 
and  Tory,  who  have  always  looked  on 
the  Government  in  all  its  branches  as 
their  especial  prerogative  and  pasture. 
Hon.  Joseph  Martin  shook  them  up  in 
a  dreadful  way.  No  such  ruthless 
hand  had  ever  been  laid  upon  them. 
But  they  got  rid  of  him,  the  tormentor, 
after  a  time,  and  were  just  about  sink- 
ing into  repose  and  peace,  when  here 
comes  this  young  innovator,  a  ' '  native 
son,"  too,  to  throw  them  again  into 
haste  and  hurry.  He  wanted  ''sys- 
tem." Why,  wasn't  there  system 
already?  Wasn't  everything  going 
on  all  right  ?  What  more  did  he  want? 
If  any  of  these  plaints  ever  reached 
the  Premier  he  made  no  sign,  but  went 
steadily  along  with  his  preparations. 
Liberals  and  Conservatives  organized 
throughout  the  country,  held  their  con- 
ventions, nominated  their  candidates 
and  went  into  the  campaign  with  enthus- 
iasm. The  Premier  stumped  the  coun- 
try from  the  boundary  line  to  Atlin, 
and  as  far  in  the  interior  as  he  could 
conveniently  go.  Throughout,  his 
utterances  were  straightforward  and 
manly,  on  the  higher  plane  of  politics, 
and  containing  no  promises  that  might 
compromise  him.  He  threw  out  no 
offers  of  material  advantage  to  men 
or  municipalities  that  were  to  be  paid 
for  in  votes,  but  brought  to  them  the 
old  message  of  Conservatism  made  new 
by  his  eloquence,  for  he  is  a  ready 
speaker,  though  with  a  hard  ring  some- 
times in  his  voice.  He  is  tall  and 
massively  built,  an  athletic  figure. 
His  face  is  full,  but  pale;  his  eyes 
dark  and  keen,  though  kindly,  and  his 
hair  is  quite  perceptibly  streaked  with 
grey,  which  is  the  fashion  nowadays; 
a  young  face,  if  it  be  comely,  and  grey 
hair  being  considered  the  most  attrac- 
tive combination  possible,  especially 
among  the  women.  He  resembles  Sir 
John  Macdonald  and  he  resembles  Sir 
Wilfrid  Laurier,  and  it  has  been  sug- 
gested that  a  composite  picture  of  the 
two  would  be  a  picture  of  Mr.  McBride. 


It  was  a  hard-fought  battle,  and  the 
Socialists  proved  a  disturbing  element. 
Both  sides  had  fair  organization  and 
worked  hard  for  success.  When  the 
returns  were  in  it  was  found  that  the 
McBride  administration  had  a  small 
majority.  Victoria  had  long  been 
regarded  as  a  Conservative  city,  but 
on  this  occasion  the  electors  returned 
four  Liberals.  Had  Victoria  gone  with 
the  Premier  he  would  have  had  a  clear 
working  majority  of  ten  or  twelve, 
which  would  have  strengthened  his 
hands  for  what  he  has  to  do.  As  it  is 
he  must  depend  upon  the  votes  of  the 
Socialists,  two  in  number,  to  carry 
any  measure  he  has  in  view.  The  old 
•'graft**  maybe  still  in  evidence,  and 
may  be  in  a  position  to  demand  favours, 
but  Premier  McBride  is  a  tactful  man 
who  can  move  warily,  and  no  one 
doubts  his  ability  to  cope  effectively 
with  any  designing  element.  He  has 
declared  his  intention  to  guard  the 
Treasury  and  protect  the  public  domain, 
and  it  is  the  conviction  of  his  many 
friends  that  he  will  do  it  or  fall  defend- 
ing the  principle  of  public  honesty. 
Those  who  know  him  say  that  he  is 
not  so  fond  of  office  as  to  stoop  to  any- 
thing questionable  to  retain  it  and  mar 
a  future  big  with  promise  to  him.  The 
people,  so  far  as  can  be  learned,  are 
satisfied  that  he  stands  for  truth  and 
uprightness  in  public  life,  and  that  he 
will  be  faithful  to  his  ideals.  The  true 
man,  knowing  the  emptiness  and 
deceit  of  popularity,  does  not  seek  to 
conform  in  his  acts  to  popular  views, 
because  he  is  well  aware  that  the  path 
of  duty  is  not  to  please  all  men.  There- 
fore he  must  expect  to  meet  the  detrac- 
tion of  the  scornful  and  the  misrepre- 
sentation of  the  malicious;  and  even  if 
slander  wag  her  ugly  and  evil  jaws  at 
him  he  must  learn  to  suffer  and  be 
silent.  No  need  to  go  to  Epectltus  for 
the  lesson  of  resignation  and  fortitude; 
for  One  far  greater  than  he  said: 
' '  Beware  when  all  men  speak  well  of 
thee,''  because  he  that  puts  forth  his 
hand  to  straighten  the  crooked  ways 
of  this  life  will  not  be  spoken  well  of, 
but  will  be  an  offence  to  many. 


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THE   SCORING   OF  THE   RAJA 

By  W.  A,  ERASER,  Author  of  ''Thoroughbreds,''  ''Brave  Hearts;'  etc. 


lURRAPARA  was  Raja  of 
his  own  domain  after  a 
fashion.  The  domain  of 
Burrapara  was  on  the  Ma- 
dras side,  two  days'  steady 
steaming  from  Calcutta. 

His  father,  the  old  Raja,  aided  by  a 
bull-necked  Dewan  (Prime  Minister), 
had  ground  down  the  tyots  (farmers) 
for  tax-money  until  the  whole  Raj  had 
become  practically  bankrupt. 

Then  the  British  ^zr^/ar (Government) 
stepped  in  and  platonically  arranged 
things.  That's  the  Sirdar's  preroga- 
tive in  India. 

Under  the  new  regime  thirty-six 
lakhs  a  year  flowed  into  the  coffers, 
and  the  burden  on  the  shoulders  of  the 
ryots  was  lighter  than  it  had  been  in 
the  memory  of  ten  generations.  The 
Raja  was  allowed  twelve  lakhs  a  year 
for  himself  and  court,  while  the  Sirdar 
took  the  other  twenty-four  for  manag- 
ing the  country,  and  incidentals. 

The  Double  X  Hussars  were  sta- 
tioned at  Burrapara  as  part  of  the 
governing  faculty.  It  was  like  sending 
a  public  school  to  a  watering  place  for 
duty.  There  were  white  palaces,  and 
leisure  Brahmins,  and  horses  without 
stint;  a  big  polo  ground,  a  fine  race- 
course, and  a  proper  oriental  atmos- 
phere as  background. 

The  Double  X  contingent  had  every- 
thing in  life  to  make  them  happy — ex- 
cept the  Burrapara  Cup.  Each  year, 
for  three  years,  they  had  reached  out 
with  a  **by-your- leave-gentlemen"  for 
this  bit  of  plate,  but  each  year  it  had 
gone  back  to  grace  the  sideboard  of 
the  Raja. 


Burrapara  himself  was  a  sportsman 
from  the  first  tinkle  of  the  bell.  He 
gathered  leopards  and  kept  them  in  a 
cage;  and  once  a  year  turned  them  out 
on  the  plain  for  an  improved  pig-stick- 
ing bout.  This  was  at  Christmas  time. 

The  Double  X  took  themselves  to 
horse  and  hunted  ** Spots"  with  their 
lances.  In  the  three  years  only  two 
fellows  had  been  mauled  with  sufficient 
intentness  to  cause  their  death — that 
is,  two  European  officers;  perhaps  a 
score  of  beaters  and  shikarries  had 
also  been  mauled,  but  they  were  His 
Highness's  subjects,  and  did  not  figure 
on  the  European  side  of  the  ledger; 
so  it  was  good  sport,  and  of  a  fair 
interest. 

The  polo  was  as  fast  as  they  played 
it  in  Tirhoot,  which  is  like  looking  at 
polo  from  the  topmost  pinnacle;  and 
not  one  of  the  Double  X  played  a  bit 
faster  or  closer  on  the  ball  than  Burra- 
para himself. 

From  an  earthly  point  of  view  it  was 
almost  a  paradise  for  men  whose  lines 
were  cast  along  that  plane.  As  I  have 
said,  the  only  unreasoning  thing  was 
the  Cup — they  could  not  get  that. 
Yearly  it  sat  big  in  pride  of  place  at 
the  annual  Race  Meet.  It  was  donat- 
ed by  the  Raja  for  an  open  handicap 
steeplechase  of  three  miles.  It  was  a 
reactive  donation,  for  his  own  stable 
always  won  it.  That  was  why  the 
Double  X  were  sad. 

Captain  Woolson  started  it.  **If 
you  fellows  will  back  me  up,"  he  said, 
'•we'll  land  that  mug  this  try." 

•'Going  to  ham-string  the  Raja's 
horses?"   Devlin   asked.     But  Devlin 


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had  oo  head  for  deep  plots,  Woolson 
knew  that;  he  was  only  a  lieutenant 
who  danced  well. 

'*The  Raja  gets  this  crazy  old  plate 
back  every  time  because  he's  got  the 
best  nags,"  Woolson  observed  with  an 
air  of  conviction. 

"There  may  be  something  in  that," 
Devlin  answered,  setting  his  glass 
down  with  a  sort  of  **hear!  hear!" 
ring. 

* 'Devlin,  you're  an  imbecile.  You 
make  remarks  that  are  not  in  the  game. 
What  I  mean  is  that  we  haven't  a  %^^'' 
gee  in  the  whole  bally  troop  that  Bur- 
rapara  can't  give  pounds  to,  with,  at 
least,  a  dozen  Arabs. " 

"That's  what's  the  matter.  Wool- 
son,"  one  of  the  officers  said;  "we're 
beaten  before  the  race  starts — that's 
what's  the  matter  with  getting  the 
Cup." 

"It's  a  great  discovery,"  said  Dev- 
lin, sarcastically. 

"Look  here,  youngster,  shut  up  !" 
said  Captain  Lutyens,  wearily;  "it's 
too  hot  to  blather.  Woolson's  got  a 
scheme,  or  he  wouldn't  be  talking — 
talking's  all  rot,  anyway." 

"Yes,"  continued  Woolson,  "the 
Raja  is  as  slick  as  a  Brahmin.  He  gets 
fifteen  or  twenty  Arabs  down  from 
Abdul  Rahman  at  Bombay,  gallops 
them  a  bit — heaven  knows  where,  we 
never  see  the  trial — and  the  best  of  the 
lot  is  chucked  into  this  handicap  light, 
being  a  green  one,  and  beats  all  our 
well-pounded  nags  out." 

"Oh,  fiddlesticks  I"  exclaimed  Dev- 
lin, impatiently;  "all  the  fellows  know 
that.  Your  discovery  is  like  going  to 
hear  *Pinafore' — it's  antique.  Besides, 
it's  not  the  Raja  at  all;  it's  O'Neill  that 
does  the  trick.  You're  an  unsophisti- 
cated lot,  and  O'Neill  knows  just  what 
your  nags  can  do.  What  do  you  sup- 
pose the  Raja  keeps  him  for — his 
beauty  ?  It's  to  play  the  English  game 
against  you  Feringhis." 

Lutyens  threw  a  box  of  matches  at 
Devlin's  head  by  way  of  entreaty,  and 
the  latter  went  out  on  the  verandah 
swearing  there  was  a  conspiracy  to 
keep  him  out  of  the  good  thing. 

"Go  on,  Woolson,"  said  Lutyens; 


"tell  us  how  to  do  up  the  Raja.  That 
young  ass  is  out  of  it  now,  so  go  on 
with  the  disclosure." 

"Well,  we'll  have  to  get  a  horse 
down  from  up  country  on  the  quiet  to 
do  the  trick.     What  do  you  think  ?" 

"Where'll  you  get  him?"  asked 
Lutyens. 

"Some  of  you  fellows  remember 
Captain  Frank,  don't  you — ^^Frank 
Johnson  ?" 

"I  do,"  said  Lutyens,  decisively. 
"I've  had  to  live  in  retirement,  finan- 
cially, since  I  joined  him  in  a  big 
thing  we  were  to  pull  off  at  Lucknow 
once.  But  he's  always  got  a  fast 
horse;  generally — yes." 

"Well,  he's  got  one  called  Saladin 
now,  that  you  simply  couldn't  handi- 
cap down  to  the  form  of  the  Raja's 
lot." 

The  others  waited,  and  Woolson 
continued  unravelling  his  brilliant  plot. 

"  I  saw  a  note  in  one  of  the  Cal- 
cutta papers  about  this  Saladin  brute, 
and  wrote  up  to  Doyne.  Doyne  says 
he's  dicky  on  his  legs,  but  he'd  stand 
a  prep,  for  one  race,  especially  in  the 
soft  going  here.  He's  never  won  yet, 
because  his  legs  wouldn't  stand  train- 
ing on  the  Calcutta  course.  It's  as 
hot  and  hard  as  a  lime-kiln,  as  you  fel- 
lows know.  If  we  could  buy  him  from 
Captain  Frank,  and  play  him  a  bit  in 
polo  here,  he'd  be  sure  to  get  in'  the 
handicap  with  a  light  weight,  and  we'd 
even  up  things  with  His  Highness." 

"  I'm  in  it,  if  it's  all  on  the  square," 
said  Lutyens.  "The  Raja's  a  good 
sort,  and  we  must  have  it  all  straight." 

"  Gad!  I'll  tell  him  we're  going  to 
win  with  Saladin,  if  we  get  him," 
exclaimed  Woolson.  "  But  we  mustn't 
let  Captain  Frank  know  about  it;  he'd 
never  let  any  sort  of  a  game  go  through 
unless  he  was  Viceroy  of  it  himself. 
We'll  get  Doyne  to  buy  the  horse,  and 
Johnson  can  discover  accidentally  that 
he's  being  sent  up  to  Tirhoot  among 
the  indigo  sahibs,  or  to  Heaven,  or  to 
almost  any  place  but  here."  . 

"I'll  stand  doing  Captain  Frank 
up,"  said  Lutyens  with  candour.  "His 
hand  is  against  every  man,  and,  pro 
tetn^  we'll  send  a  punitive  expedition 


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against  him.      I  don't  mind  that  a  bit." 

The  truth  of  the  matter  as  concern- 
ing Woolson  was,  that  there  was  a 
standing  feud  between  him  and  John- 
son over  some  brilliant  coup  at  Luck- 
now,  and  he  knew  the  Captain  wouldn't 
sell  him  a  horse  at  any  price. 

So  that  was  the  inception  of  the  plot. 
Woolson  was  commissioned  to  acquire 
Saladin.  He  wrote  his  friend  Captain 
Doyne  to  buy  the  horse  as  cheaply  as 
he  could — warned  him  against  Captain 
Frank's  rapacity,  and  explained  that 
Saladin  would  be  supposed  to  go  to 
any  part  of  the  British  Empire  but 
Burrapara. 

Doyne  executed  his  commission  with 
diplomatic  enthusiasm.  Johnson  wanted 
three  thousand  rupees.  Doyne  offered 
two  thousand  and  half  the  first  purse 
the  horse  won,  plate  not  to  count. 
Theoretically  that  should  have  repre- 
sented a  considerable  sum — in  point  of 
fact  Doyne  chuckled  softly  to  himself 
over  this  commercial  victory,  for  he 
knew  that  Saladin  would  win  only  the 
Cup  at  Burrapara  and  no  prize  money. 

The  horse  was  bought  and  shipped 
in  a  roundabout  way  to  his  new 
owners. 

Woolson  played  him  in  polo  just 
twice,  then  pretended  to  make  a  dis- 
covery. "  I'm  going  to  keep  that 
chestnut  brute  for  the  races,"  he  as- 
sured the  Raja,  ''he  can  gallop  a  bit." 

Burrapara  smiled  pensively,  for  he 
had  Shahbaz  in  his  stable,  and  it  would 
take  a  rare  good  horse  to  beat  him. 

O'Neill  was  an  ex-Hussar  officer  who 
had  found  the  service  too  fast  for  his 
limited  income.  Influential  friends  had 
farmed  him  out  to  the  Raja,  and  he 
was  what  might  be  called  commander- 
in-chief  of  stables  to  His  Highness. 
He  also  made  a  discovery,  the  Raja 
would  never  have  found  it  out  for  him- 
self. 

"  Look  here,  Your  Highness,"  he 
said,  "the  Mess  has  got  hold  of  a 
good  thing  at  last.  I  don't  know 
where  they  puckerowed  that  white- 
faced  Arab,  but  he's  a  rare  good  one. 
He'll  beat  Shahbaz  for  the  Cup." 

**  And — ?"  said  the  Raja,  with  ori- 
ental control. 


**  We  must  play  the  game  too,  Your 
Highness." 

'*You  know  best,  O'Neill  Sahib. 
It's  in  your  department."  The  Raja 
liked  to  play  at  officialdom. 

"  Shall  I  get  a  horse  to  beat  themj 
Your  Highness  ?" 

'*  What  appropriation  do  you  re- 
quire?" asked  Burrapara. 

"Perhaps  three  or  four  thousand, 
Your  Higness." 

**  I  will  command  the  treasurer," 
replied  the  Raja,  laconically. 

Now  as  it  happened,  O'Neill,  before 
he  left  the  service,  had  swung  along 
in  the  racing  game  beside  Captain 
Frank.  '*  Frank  knows  every  horse 
in  India,"  he  mused,  "  and  if  the  rupees 
are  forthcoming,  he'll  get  just  what  I 
want."  Though  he  had  not  the  faint- 
est idea  that  the  Mess  had  got  one 
from  Frank. 

So  he  wrote  by  the  first  mail  steam- 
er to  Johnson: 

"  The  fellows  down  here  have  picked 
up  a  horse  somewhere  called  Saladin. 
Do  you  know  anything  about  him  ?  I 
saw  them  try  him  out,  and  he  galloped 
like  a  wild  boar.  If  you've  got  some- 
thing in  your  stable  to  beat  him  I'll  buy 
it  or  lease  it.  It's  all  about  the  Raja's 
Cup,  three  miles  over  timber,  for 
Arabs  and  Countrybreds.  Captain 
Woolson  is  at  the  bottom  of  it — I 
think  you'll  remember  him." 

Johnson  puckered  his  thin  lips  and 
whistled  long  and  softly  to  himself 
when  he  read  the  letter.  *'  My  aunt!" 
he  ejaculated,  '*  they  played  softly. 
Who  the  thunder  told  Woolson  about 
Saladin  ?" 

He  shoved  the  letter  into  his  pocket, 
lighted  a  cheroot,  and  played  chess 
with  this  new  thing  for  three  days. 
Then  he  wrote  to  O'Neill: 

"Woolson  was  born  of  commercial 
parents — he  gets  this  thing  from  his 
father,  who  was  a  successful  soap  mer- 
chant. They  bought  Saladin  from  me 
to  go  up  country.  The  Raja  has  my 
sympathy  if  he  hopes  to  beat  the  chest- 
nut with  anything  he's  got  there.  I 
have  nothing  in  my  stable  could  look 
at  him  over  three  miles  of  country. 

"  But  all  the  same,  I  think  we  can 


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THE  SCORING  OF  THE  RAJA 


217 


beat  out  this  joint  stock  company.  I've 
got  May  Queen,  and  Saladin  has  al- 
ways been  worked  with  her.  He's  a 
sluggish  devil,  and  has  notions.  He 
won't  try  a  yard  so  long  as  the  mare  is 
galloping  beside  him;  that's  because 
they've  worked  together  so  much. 
He'll  just  plug  along  about  a  neck  in 
front  of  her,  and  the  more  you  ham- 
mer him  the  sulkier  he  gets. 

"If  you've  got  something  fairish 
good  in  your  stable,  and  the  Raja  will 
pay  well  for  the  expedition,  I'll  send 
the  Queen  down,  and  go  myself  later 
on  to  ride  her,  for  the  edification  of 
our  friend,  the  soap  merchant's  off- 
spring. I'll  guarantee  you'll  beat  Sal- 
adin, only  you  must  have  something 
good  enough  to  do  up  the  others. 
Don't  let  them  know  where  you've  got 
the  mare." 

These  aflFairs  of  state  were  duly  laid 
before  the  Raja  by  O'Neill  in  a  general 
way  without  too  much  attention  to 
detail.  Kings  as  a  rule  don't  care  for 
detail,  they  like  to  win,  that's  all. 
Burrapara  simply  gleaned  that  by  the 
aid  of  a  mare,  a  certain  Captain  Frank, 
and  his  own  Shahbaz,  he  was  to  win 
once  more  his  favourite  toy;  also  tri- 
umph over  the  united  ingenuity  of  the 
Double  X  Mess.  The  executive  duties 
he  left  to  O'Neill;  also  spoke  the  neces- 
sary word  to  the  treasurer. 

In  two  weeks  May  Queen  was  in  the 
Raja's  stables,  and  the  wise  men  who 
had  gone  out  of  the  West  kpew  not  of 
this  back-wash  in  the  tide  of  their 
affairs. 

Two  weeks  later  Frank  Johnson 
sauntered  into  the  Mess  of  the  Double 
X  with  his  dehonnaire  military  swing, 
as  though  he  had  just  returned  from  a 
week's  shikarri,  and  lived  there  al- 
ways. 

''Great  gattlings!"  exclaimed  Lut- 
yens,  "where  in  the  name  of  all  the 
Brahmins  did  you  come  from,  Johnson? 
by  all  that's  holy." 

"Where's  the  balloon?"  asked  Dev- 
lin. 

"Nobody  ever  come  here  any  more?" 
asked  Captain  Frank,  pitching  into  a 
big  chair  after  solemnly  grabbing  each 
paw  that  was  extended  to  him." 


"Heaps  of  ordinary  chaps,  "answered 
Lutyens. 

"But  visits  like  mine  are  like  the 
cherubs,  eh?" 

"He's  tons  like  a  cherub,"  muttered 
Devlin;  then  aloud,  "Here,  boy,  bring 
a  peg.  Captain  Sahib's  dry." 

"Came  down  to  the  fair  to  pick  up 
some  smart  polo  ponies,"  Johnson 
volunteered.     *  *  Any  racing  at  the  fair?" 

"Heaps,"  said  Lutyens,  thinking 
dismally  of  the  accursed  fate  that  had 
steered  Captain  Frank  their  way  when 
they  had  got  it  all  cut  and  dried  for 
Saladin.  "Make  yourself  at  home, 
Johnson,"  he  said,  "I've  got  to  make 
a  call." 

Then  he  posted  down  to  Woolson's 
bungalow.  "Guess  who's  here?"  he 
said. 

"Anybody  big?" 

"Size  of  an  elephant." 

"The  C.C?" 

"No— Johnson." 

"Great  heavens !  Not  Captain 
Frank?" 

Lutyens  nodded;  Woolson  turned 
pale.  "Does  he  know?"  he  asked 
dismally. 

"Don't  think  it.  It's  a  pure  fluke, 
his  coming;  he's  down  after  some  polo 
tats, 

Woolson's  face  showed  that  he  was 
still  mistrustful.  "He'll  stay  for  the 
races,  sure." 

"Uh-hu!"  grunted  Lutyens. 

"And  he'll  spot  Saladin;  he's  got 
devil-eyes,  that  chap." 

"Uh-hu!"   again  assented  Lutyens. 

"We'll  have  to  tell  him,  and  beg 
him  to  keep  quiet." 

"I  think  so." 

"You'll  have  to  put  him  up,  Lut- 
yens>  to  keep  him  out  of  their  hands." 

"All  right." 

So  that  night  Captain  Frank  learned 
to  his  great  surprise  that  Saladin  was 
in  Burrapara.  Gracious !  but  he  was 
surprised.  How  had  it  happened — he 
had  understood  Doyne  was  sending 
him  up  country  ? 

Woolson  told  the  Captain  a  fairy 
tale  about  that  part  of  it;  but  he  had  to 
be  made  free  of  the  secret  that  they 
hoped  to  win  the  Cup  with  Saladin. 


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**  Don't  tell  the  Raja  nor  O'Neill," 
be&ged  Lutyens.  **The  honour  of  the 
Double  X  demands  that  we  win  that 
Cup.'' 

*<ril  tell  nobody,"  said  Captain 
Frank.  •*  Let  everybody  find  out 
things  for  themselves — that's  my  way 
of  working." 

They  cracked  a  botlle  of  champagne 
to  this  noble  sentiment,  and  all  that 
belonged  to  the  Double  X  was  placed 
at  the  disposal  of  Captain  Frank  during 
his  sojourn  amongst  them.  The  Raja 
had  a  dozen  bungalows  splendidly 
furnished,  always  at  the  command  of 
visitors;  and  Captain  Frank  assured 
Lutyens  that  one  of  these  had  already 
been  placed  at  his  disposal,  so  he  de- 
clined the  Double  X  Captain's  hospital- 
ity. **  Hang  it !"  he  said  to  himself, 
''I  can't  eat  his  rations,  and  sleep  in 
his  bed,  and  play  against  him;  that's 
too  stiff  an  order." 

As  race  day  approached,  events  out- 
lined themselves  more  clearly.  The 
Raja  had  three  horses  entered  for 
the  Cup:  Shahbaz,  May  Queen  and 
Ishmael.  Woolson  had  Saladin,  and 
there  were  six  other  entries,  not  cal- 
culated to  have  much  bearing  on  the 
history  of  the  Cup. 

••What's  this  May  Queen  thing?" 
asked  Lutyens. 

Nobody  knew;  not  even  where  she 
had  come  from.  She  was  a  country- 
bred  without  a  record,  that's  all  that 
anybody  could  say.  It  didn't  matter 
anyway,  Shahbaz  was  what  they  had 
to  beat,  that  was  certain.  O'Neill  was 
riding  this  pick  of  the  stable  himself. 

Two  evenings  before  the  race  O'Neill 
came  over  to  the  Mess.  He  wanted 
somebody  to  take  the  mount  on  May 
Queen;  the  boy  who  was  to  have  rid- 
den her  was  ill,  he  explained. 

••Johnson  will  ride  for  you,"  ex- 
claimed Lutyens.  ••He'd  get  paralysis 
if  he  hadn't  a  mount  at  a  meeting." 

^•Is  she  any  good  ?"  asked  Captain 
Frank. 

'•We  don't  know  much  about  her," 
answered  O'Neill.  • 'We'll  declare  to 
win  with  Shahbaz,  but  the  mare  may 
run  well.  The  Raja'll  be  delighted  if 
you'll  pilot  her." 


••It'll  be  better,"  said  Lutyens,  ''for 
an  outsider  to  ride  than  one  of  our  fel- 
lows." 

••All  right,  I'll  take  the  mount,"  ex- 
claimed Captain  Frank,  "only  I'd  like 
to  school  her  a  bit  to-morrow." 

You  will  see  that  the  tea  set  had 
been  almost  completed;  because  when 
Fate  undertakes  to  arrange  matters, 
there  is  seldom  a  hitch.  Everybody 
works  for  Fate— everybody. 

Of  course  there  was  a  big  lottery 
held  at  the  Officers'  Mess  the  eight 
before  the  race;  and  the  Burrapara 
Cup  was  the  main  medium  for  a 
plunge. 

Woolson  was  suspicious.  ••  I  don't 
like  it,"  he  said  to  Lutyens.  '•  Frank 
Johnson  isn't  down  here  for  the  benefit 
of  his  health;  and  I'll  swear  he  hasn't 
bought  a  single  tg^^-^^^.  We  don't 
know  anything  about  that  mare;  I've 
tried  to  find  out  where  she  comes  from, 
but  nobody  knows." 

••  Do  you  suppose  she's  good  enough 
to  beat  Saladin?"  asked  Lutyens^ 
doubtingly. 

*•  Well,  Johnson  rides  her. " 

••I'm  the  cause  of  that,"  answered 
Lutyens. 

••You  may  think  so,  but  to  me  it 
looks  like  a  job.  O'Neill  and  Captain 
Frank  knew  each  other  in  the  old  days.. 
If  they  back  the  mare  in  the  lotteries^ 
I'm  going  to  have  a  bit  of  it,"  asserted 
Woolson. 

This  little  cloud  of  suspicion  broad- 
ened out,  until  by  the  time  the  lotter- 
ies were  on,  there  was  a  strong  tip 
out  that  May  Queen  was  a  good  things 
for  the  Cup.  The  Mess  ran  Saladin 
up  to  a  steep  figure  when  his  chances 
were  sold  in  the  lotteries. 

Nobody  but  O'Neill  w.anted  to  back 
Shahbaz,  and  he  went  cheap.  When 
May  Queen  was  put  up,  Johnson 
laughingly  made  a  bid,  saying,  •'  I'd 
back  a  mule  if  I  rode  him  in  a  race." 

••You're  pretty  slick,  Mr.  Frank,'* 
Woolson  muttered;  and  he  bid  on  the 
mare.  This  started  it,  and  in  the  end 
May  Queen  fetched  nearly  as  good  a 
price  as  Saladin.  It  went  that  way  alt 
the  evening;  the  Mess  flattered  them- 
selves that  they  had  stood  by  Saladin 


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THE  SCORING  OF  THE  RAJA 


219 


pretty  well — ^and  they  had.  Of  course 
Captain  Frank  couldn't  well  bid  on 
Saladin,  he  explained;  it  was  their 
preserve. 

When  they  were  finished  at  last, 
Captain  Frank  said  to  Woolson:  "Tve 
got  that  brute  Shahbaz  in  two  lotter- 
ies. You'd  better  take  half  to  hedge 
your  money;  you're  loaded  up  with  Sal- 
adin." 

"  No,  thanks,"  the  other  man  said, 
with  a  clever  glint  in  the  corner  of  his 
eye,  *'  I've  also  got  May  Queen,  your 
mount;  I've  got  enough." 

"  Do  you  want  to  part  with  a  bit  of 
May  Queen?"  the  Captain  asked  care- 
lessly. 

"  Not  an  anna  of  it.  I'll  stick  to 
the  lot.  The  Saladin  money  belongs 
to  the  Mess;  we  bought  him  together, 
but  the  May  Queen  business  is  nearly 
all  my  own." 

He  looked  sideways  at  Johnson 
while  he  said  this,  watching  the  blonde- 
mustached  face  narrowly;  then  he 
spoke  up  with  abrupt  impetuousness, 
''Johnson,  look  here,  you  know  all 
about  that  mare.  Tell  me  whether  it's 
all  right  or  not." 

•*  I  think,"  answered  Johnson,  leis- 
urely, pouring  with  judicious  exact- 
ness hsdf  a  bottle  of  soda  into  his  peg 
glass,  *'  that  you  fellows  here  are  a 
bally  lot  of  sharks.  You've  bought  all 
of  Saladin  in  the  lotteries;  the  most 
of  May  Queen,  and  then  want  to 
know  what's  going  to  win.  You'd 
better  have  half  of  Shahbaz  now,  and 
make  a  certainty." 

'•No,  thanks,  I'm  filled  up." 

•*  Do  you  want  to  part  with  a  bit  of 
Saladin  ?" 

"  Can't  do  it.  All  the  fellows  are  in 
it— all  the  Mess." 

•*  I  think  you're  missing  it  over 
Shahbaz.  O'Neill  thinks  he'll  win," 
drawled  the  Captain,  appearing  terri- 
bly solicitous  for  his  enemy's  welfare. 

A  little  later  Captain  Frank  rehears- 
ed this  scene  to  0*Neill.  *'  I  pretend- 
ed to  want  a  bit  of  Saladin  or  May 
Queen,  but  Woolson  wouldn't  part 
with  any.  Lord!  but  the  father  is  big 
in  the  son.  Stuck  to  his  pound  of 
flesh  like  a. proper  Ishmaelite.     Then  I 


offered  him  some  of  Shahbaz  in  the 
lottery,  but  he  shut  up  like  a  knife;  he 
was  afraid  I'd  force  it  on  him.  To- 
morrow after  Shahbaz  wins,  I'll  say  to 
him:  '  I  wanjted  you  to  take  a  bit  of 
the  good  thing;'  and  he'll  scowl,  be- 
cause he'll  be  sick  at  his  stomach.  I'll 
teach  them  to  get  a  good  horse  out  of 
me  to  do  up  a  fine  chap  like  the  Raja, 
and  then  pay  for  him  out  of  stakes  that 
are  not  to  be  had." 

Woolson's  version  of  the  same  thing 
to  Lutyens  was  slightly  different,  which 
only  goes  to  show  that  human  nature 
is  a  complex  machine. 

"Johnson's  got  stuck  with  Shahbaz 
in  the  lottery,  and  he's  been  trying  to 
unload  on  me.  He  wanted  a  piece  of 
Saladin.  That's  Captain  Frank  all 
over;  pokes  his  nose  in  here  on  our 
good  thing,  roots  around  until  he  finds 
out  something,  then  wants  a  share." 

"  I  wish  he  hadn't  come,"  said  Lut- 
yens, abstractedly.  "  Heaven  knows 
what  he'll  do;  he's  like  a  Hindoo  jug- 
gler." 

"  He  can  only  win  out  on  May 
Queen,"  retorted  Woolson,  crabbedly; 
"and  I've  got  the  biggest  part  of  her 
in  the  lotteries  myself." 

"  Yes,  but  the  other  fellows  are  all 
down  on  Saladin,  and  it's  the  Cup 
we're  really  after,  not  the  rupees." 

Woolson  said  nothing  to  this.  The 
Cup  was  all  right  as  a  Cup,  but  it 
would  suit  him  to  land  his  big  coup 
over  May  Queen. 

The  next  day  at  the  race-course 
Lieutenant  Devlin  sauntered  up  to 
Captain  Frank  and  said:  "  Little  Ers- 
kine,  who  is  in  the  Seventh,  over  in 
Colombo,  is  in  a  bit  of  a  hole,  and  I'd 
like  to  help  him  out.  What  I've  got's 
no  good  to  him — 'tisn't  enough." 

"  Say,  youngster,"  drawled  Johnson, 
"  are  you  one  of  the  forty  thieves  that 
got  Saladin  down  here  to  do  up  O'Neill 
and  the  Raja?" 

"Oh,  I  think  the  fellows  played  fair 
enough,"  answered  Devliq,  "  but 
whatever  it  was  they  didn't  ask  my 
advice;  in  fact  they  drummed  me  out." 

"  What  are  the  bookies  laying 
against  Shahbaz?"  queried  Captain 
Frank. 


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•*  Five  to  one,"  answered  Devlin. 

*<  What  does  Erskine  need?" 

**  Couple  of  thou. y  I  fancy." 

**  Have  you  got  four  hundred?" 

•*  Yes;  but  can  Shahbaz— " 

**  Don't  be  a  danfhfool,"  interrupted 
Captain  Frank,  with  profane  brevity. 

It  was  time  to  mount  for  the  Burra- 
para  Cup.  As  they  jogged  down  to 
the  post,  Frank  ranged  alongside  of 
Woolson  who  was  riding  Saladin,  and 
said,  ''  You'd  better  take  half  of  Shah- 
baz  still;"  but  Woolson  tickled  Saladin 
with  the  spur,  and  swerved  to  one 
side,  pretending  not  to  have  heard. 

O'Neill  was  riding  Shahbaz,  and  to 
him  Johnson  said:  **  When  we've  gone 
half  the  journey,  you  slip  up  in  front 
before  Saladin  gets  his  dander  up.  I'll 
keep  close  beside  him  and  he'll  never 
try  a  yard.  But  k%ep  on  in  front,  so 
as  not  to  draw  him  out. 

For  a  mile  and  a  half  half  a  dozen  of 
the  nine  starters  were  pretty  well  up. 
As  the  pace  increased  and  Shahbaz 
drew  away  in  the  lead,  all  of  the  others 
but  Saladin  and  May  Queen  commenced 
to  drop  out  of  it.  At  two  miles  Shah- 
baz was  six  lengths  in  front;  Saladin 
and  May  Queen  were  swinging  along 
under  a  steady  pull,  neck  and  neck. 

*'  He  means  to  stick  to  me  and  beat 
me  out,"  mused  Woolson. 

'^  The  blasted  idiot  is  kidding  him- 
self," thought  Johnson.  **He  thinks 
he's  got  to  hang  to  my  coat-tails  to 
win." 

Saladin  was  keeping  his  eye  on  May 
Queen.  He  had  been  separated  from 
his  stable  chum  for  weeks,  and  now  he 
was  galloping  along  beside  her  as  in 
the  old  days.  His  soft  Arab  heart  was 
glad.  What  a  pity  she  couldn't  gallop 
a  bit  faster  though.  The  thrill  of 
strength  was  in  his  muscles,  and  he 
would  like  to  unstring  his  great  tend- 
ons that  soft  warm  day,  and  spurn  the 
red,  yielding  earth.  His  leg  wasn't  a 
bit  sore;  ah,  there  was  another  horse 
on  in  front  there.  Why  couldn't  May 
Queen  hurry  up? 

Soon  his  rider's  legs  commenced  to 
hitch  at  his  ribs,  and  Woolson  was 
chirruping  at  him  to  move  on.  If 
they'd  hurry  his  chum  he  would. 


Woolson  was  getting  anxious. 
There  was  only  half  a  mile  to  go  now, 
and  Shahbaz  was  still  well  in  the  lead. 
He  had  ridden  Saladin  under  a  pull  all 
the  time,  and  fancied  that  his  horse 
had  a  lot  left  in  him;  but  now  when  he 
shook  him  up  he  didn't  respond. 

"Go  on!"  he  shouted  to  Captain 
Frank.  '*  We'll  never  catch  Shah- 
baz." 

•*Go  on  yourself,"  answered  the 
Captain,  in  schoolboy  retort. 

Woolson  brought  his  whip  down  on 
Saladin's  flank.  Stung  by  it  the  Arab 
sprang  forward,  and  for  a  second 
Woolson's  heart  jumped  with  joy.  He 
felt  the  great  muscles  contract  and 
spread  under  him,  and  fancied  that  he 
would  soon  overtake  the  dark  bay  io 
front.  The  mare  struggled  too;  Sala- 
din heard  her  labouring  at  his  quarters, 
and  waited  patiently. 

**  Steady,  you  brutel"  Captain  Frank 
ejaculated  to  the  mare,  but  Saladin 
knew  the  voice,  and  after  that  the  maa 
on  his  back  amounted  to  very  little  in 
the  forces  governing  the  race. 

With  whip  and  spur,  and  profane 
appeals,  Woolson  laboured  at  his 
mount,  throwing  him  out  of  his  stride 
a  dozen  times.  The  mare  struggled 
and  strained  every  nerve  to  keep  up 
with  her  stable  companion.  Saladin 
rebelled  against  the  fool  who  was  rid- 
ing him,  and  sulked  with  Arab  per- 
sistence; raced  as  he  had  always  done 
at  home  with  the  mare,  neck  and 
neck. 

Shahbaz  was  tiring  badly.  At  the 
last  fence  he  nearly  fell;  striking  the 
top  rail  with  his  toes  out  of  sheer 
weariness.  There  was  only  a  short 
run  in  on  the  level  now.  Would  he 
last  out?  If  Saladin  ever  rang'ed 
alongside  of  him  it  would  be  all  over, 
Johnson  knew  that.  In  the  strug^g^le 
he  would  forget  about  May  Queen, 
and  shoot  by  Shahbaz  as  though  he 
were  dead. 

Woolson  was  in  an  agony  of  sus- 
pense. Shahbaz  would  certainly  win, 
and  he  might  have  saved  his  money 
by  taking  Frank's  offer.  A  sudden 
resolve  seized  him.  Saladin  was  sulk- 
ing and  he  was  worse  beaten  than  the 


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221 


horse,  he  could  not  ride  him  out.  He 
would  take  Frank's  offer  now. 

Bending  his  face  around  toward 
Johnson  he  gasped   **  Til — take — half 

— Shahbaz— '*  then  he  disappeared. 

That  final  grab  had  effectually  settled 
the  race.  They  were  rising  at  the  last 
jump,  and  his  movement  caused  Sala- 
din  to  swerve.  The  horse  struck  the 
rail  heavily,  and  Woolson  was  shot  out 
of  the  saddle,  and  planted  inches  deep 
in  the  soft  earth  on  the  outside  of  the 
course. 

It  had  looked  a  close  thing  from  the 
stand.  **Saladin*ll  win  in  a  walk," 
the  Mess  fellows  said  just  before  I  he 
fall,     **  Woolson's    been    waiting    on 


O'Neill,  and  now  he'll  come  away  and 
win  as  he  likes." 

When  Woolson  vacated  the  saddle 
so  energetically  a  groan  went  up  from 
them.  When  Shahbaz  slipped  by  the 
judge's  stand,  three  lengths  in  front  of 
May  Queen,  they  groaned  again;  but 
with  official  politeness  cheered  lustily 
for  the  Raja. 

His  Highness  sat  complacently  eye- 
ing the  excited  people.  It  was  a  very 
small  thing  to  get  agitated  about,  for 
he  had  won,  you  see. 

Captain  Frank  bought  Saladin  back 
for  a  thousand  rupees;  beaten  horses 
go  cheap. 


r^~ 


^iriS^^^-v::; 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  WOODS 

BY    WILLIAM   J.    FISCHER 

rPHE  wild  heart  of  the  woods  !  therein  is  rest. 
Above  me  sways  a  sky  of  whisp'ring  green, 

Around  me  far  the  silent  shadows  lean 
And  listen  to  tree-music  ;  in  their  nest, 
The  fond  birds  mother  their  young  brood,  so  blest; 

The  purling  brooks  quench  Summer's  thirst  ;  the  sheen 

And  shimmer  on  the  changing,  Sylvan  scene 
Is  glorious  to  me,  glad  Nature's  guest. 
A  thousand  happy  mem'ries  slumber  here 

Beneath  these  oaks  ;  a  thousand  happy  hopes 
Flutter  upon  the  bending  leaves  in  fear. 

And  O  the  press  of  the  cool  grass  !     The  slopes 
Of  Peace  stretch  wide  before  mine  vision  clear 

And  slowly  God*s  white  finger  Heaven  opes. 


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LA  MERE  SAUVAGE 


By  GUY  DE  MA  UPASSANT 


HAD  not  been  at  Virelogne 
for  fifteen  years.  1  went 
back  there  in  the  autumn, 
to  shoot  with  my  friend 
Serval,  who  had  at  last  re- 
built his  chateau,  which  had  been  de- 
stroyed by  the  Prussians. 

I  loved  that  district  very  much.  It 
is  one  of  those  corners  of  the  world 
which  have  a  sensuous  charm  for  the 
eyes.  You  love  it  with  a  bodily  love. 
We  whom  the  country  seduces,  we 
keep  tender  memories  for  certain 
spring's,  for  certain  woods,  for  certain 
pools,  for  certain  hills,  seen  very  often 
and  which  have  stirred  us  like  joyful 
events.  Sometimes  our  thoughts  turn 
back  towards  a  corner  in  a  forest,  or 
the  end  of  a  bank,  or  an  orchard  pow- 
dered with  flowers,  seen  but  a  single 
time  on  some  gay  day;  yet  remaining 
in  our  hearts  like  the  images  of  certain 
women  met  in  the  street  on  a  spring* 
mornin^^,  with  bright,  transparent 
dresses;  and  leaving  in  soul  and  body 
an  unappeased  desire  which  is  not  to 
be  forgotten,  a  feeling  that  you  have 
just  rubbed  elbows  with  happiness. 

At  Virelogne  I  loved  the  whole 
countryside,  dotted  with  little  woods, 
and  crossed  by  brooks  which  flashed 
in  the  sun  and  looked  like  veins  carry- 
ing blood  to  the  earth.  You  flshed  in 
them  for  crawflsh,  trout  and  eels!  Di- 
vine happiness!  You  could  bathe  in 
places,  and  you  often  found  snipe 
among  the  high  grass  which  grew 
along  the  borders  of  these  slender 
watercourses. 

I  was  walking,  lightly  as  a  goat, 
watching  my  two  dogs  ranging  before 
me.  Serval,  a  hundred  metres  to  my 
right,  was  beatin^^  a  field  of  lucern.  I 
turned  the  thicket  which  forms  the 
boundary  af  the  wood  of  Sandres,  and 
I  saw  a  cottage  in  ruins. 

All  of  a  sudden  I  remembered  it  as 
I  had  seen  it  the  last  time,  in  1869, 
neat,  covered  with  vines,  with  chickens 
before  the  door.     What  sadder  than  a 


dead  house,  with  its  skeleton  standing* 
upright,  bare  and  sinister? 

I  also  remembered  that  in  it,  one 
very  tiring  day,  the  good  woman  had 
given  me  a  glass  of  wine  to  drink, 
and  that  Serval  had  then  told  me  the 
history  of  its  inhabitants.  The  father, 
an  old  poacher,  had  been  killed  by  the 
gendarmes.  The  son,  whom  I  had 
once  seen,  was  a  tall,  dry  fellow,  who 
also  passed  for  a  ferocious  destroyer 
of  game.  People  called  them  '*  les 
Sauvage.*' 

Was  that  a  name  or  a  nickname  ? 

I  hailed  Serval.  He  came  up  with 
his  lon|^  strides  like  a  crane. 

I  asked  him: 

"What's  become  of  those  people?" 

And  he  told  me  this  story: 

When  war  was  declared,  the  son 
Sauvage,  who  was  then  thirty-three 
years  old,  enlisted,  leaving  his  mother 
alone  in  the  house.  People  did  not 
pity  the  old  woman  very  much,  because 
she  had  money;  they  knew  it. 

But  she  remained  quite  alone  in  that 
isolated  dwelling  so  far  from  the  vil- 
lage, on  the  edge  of  the  wood.  She 
was  not  afraid,  however,  being  of  the 
same  strain  as  her  menfolk;  a  hardy 
old  woman,  tall  and  thin,  who  laughed 
seldom,  and  with  whom  one  never 
jested.  The  women  of  the  fields  laugh 
but  little  in  any  case;  that  is  men's 
business,  that!  But  they  themselves 
have  sad  and  narrowed  hearts,  leadings 
a  melancholy,  gloomy  life.  The  peas- 
ants learn  a  little  boisterous  merriment 
at  the  tavern,  but  their  helpmates  re- 
main grave,  with  countenances  which 
are  always  severe.  The  muscled  of 
their  faces  have  never  learned  the 
movements  of  the  laugh. 

La  Mere  Sauvage  continued  her  or- 
dinary existence  in  her  cottage,  which 
was  soon  covered  by  the  snows.  She 
came  to  the  village  once  a  week  to  g^et 
bread  and  a  little  meat;  then  she  re- 
turned into  her  house.  As  there  was 
talk  of  wolves,  she  went  out   with  a 


*  Copyright  in  the    United  States  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 

222 


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223 


guD  Upon  her  back-*— her  son's  gun, 
rusty,  and  with  butt  worn  by  the  rub- 
bing of  the  hand;  and  she  was  strange 
to  see,  the  tall  ^*Sauvage,''  a  little 
bent,  going  with  slow  strides  over  the 
snow,  the  muzzle  of  the  piece  extend- 
ing beyond  the  black  head-dress,  which 
pressed  close  to  her  head  and  impris- 
oned the  white  hair  which  no  one  had 
ever  seen. 

One  day  a  Prussian  force  arrived. 
It  was  billeted  upon  the  inhabitants 
according  to  the  property  and  re- 
sources of  each.  Four  were  allotted  to 
the  old  woman,  who  was  known  to  be 
rich. 

They  were  four  great  boys  with 
blonde  skin,  with  blonde  beards,  with 
blue  eyes,  who  had  remained  stout 
notwithstanding  the  fatigues  which 
they  had  endured  already,  and  who, 
also,  though  in  a  conquered  country, 
had  remained  kind  and  gentle.  Alone 
with  this  aged  woman,  they  showed 
themselves  full  of  consideration,  spar- 
ing her,  as  much  as  they  could,  all  ex- 
penses and  fatigue.  They  would  be 
seen,  all  four  of  them,  making  their 
toilet  round  the  well  of  a  morning  in 
their  shirt  sleeves,  splashing  with  great 
swishes  of  water,  under  the  crude  day- 
light of  the  snowy  weather,  their  pink- 
white  Northman's  flesh,  while  La  Mere 
Sauvagewent  and  came,  making  ready 
the  soup.  Then  they  could  be  seen 
cleaning  the  kitchen,  rubbing  the  tiles, 
splitting  the  wood,  peeling  the  pota- 
toes, doing  up  all  the  house-work,  Jike 
four  good  sons  about  their  mother. 

But  the  old  woman  thought  always 
of  her  own,  so  tall  and  thin,  with  his 
hooked  nose  and  his  brown  eyes,  and 
his  heavy  moustache  which  made  a 
roll  of  black  hairs  upon  his  lip.  She 
asked  each  day  of  each  of  the  soldiers 
who  were  installed  beside  her  hearth: 

**  Do  you  know  where  the  French 
Marching  Regiment  No.  23  was  sent  ? 
My  boy  is  in  it." 

They  answered,  '*  No,  not  know; 
not  know  at  all."  And,  understand- 
ing her  pain  and  her  uneasiness — they 
who  had  mothers,  too,  there  at  home 
— they  rendered  her  a  thousand  little 
services.     She  loved  them  well,  more- 


over, her  four  enemies,  since  the  peas- 
antry feels  no  patriotic  hatred;  that 
belongs  to  the  upper  class  alone.  The 
humble,  those  who  pay  the  most  be- 
cause they  are  poor,  and  because  every 
new  burden  crushes  them  down;  those 
who  are  killed  in  masses,  who  make 
the  true  cannon's  meat,  because  they 
are  so  many;  those,  in  fine,  who  suffer 
most  cruelly  the  atrocious  miseries  of 
war,  because  they  are  the  feeblest  and 
offer  least  resistance — they  hardly  un- 
derstand at  all  those  bellicose  ardours, 
that  excitable  sense  of  honour,  or  those 
pretended  political  combinations  which 
in  six  months  exhaust  two  nations,  the 
conqueror  with  the  conquered. 

They  said  on  the  country-side,  in 
speaking  of  the  Germans  of  La  Mere 
Sauvage: 

"They  are  four  who  have  found  a 
soft  place." 

Now,  one  morning  when  the  old 
woman  was  alone  in  the  house,  she 
perceived  far  off  on  the  plain  a  man 
coming  towards  her  dwelling.  Soon 
she  recognized  him;  it  was  the  post- 
man charged  to  distribute  the  letters. 
He  gave  her  a  folded  paper,  and  she 
drew  out  of  her  case  the  spectacles 
which  she  used  for  sewing;  then  she 
read: 

'*  Madame  Sauvage, — The  present 
letter  is  to  tell  you  sad  news.  Your 
boy  Victor  was  killed  yesterday  by  a 
shell  which  near  cut  him  in  two.  I 
was  just  by,  seeing  that  we  ^tood  next 
each  other  in  the  company,  and  he 
would  talk  to  me  about  you  to  let  you 
know  on  the  same  day  if  anything 
happened  to  him. 

'*  I  took  his  watch,  which  was  in  his 
pocket,  to  bring  it  back  to  you  when 
the  war  is  done. 

**  I  salute  you  very  friendly, 

''Cesairb  Rivot, 
'^  Soldier  of  the  2nd  class,  March.  Reg. 
No.  23." 

She  did  not  cry  at  all.  She  remained 
motionless,  so  seized  and  stupefied 
that  she  did  not  even  suffer  as  yet. 
She  thought:  ''Via  Victor  who  is 
killed  now."  Then  little  by  little  the 
tears  mounted   to  her  eyes,  and  the 


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sorrow  caught  her  heart.  The  ideas 
came  to  her  one  by  one,  dreadful,  tor- 
turing. She  would  never  kiss  him 
again,  her  child,  her  big  boy,  never 
again!  The  gendarmes  had  killed  the 
father,  the  Prussians  had  killed  the 
son.  He  had  been  cut  in  two  by  a 
cannon  ball.  She  seemed  to  see  the 
thing,  the  horrible  thing:  the  head  fall- 
ing, the  eyes  open,  while  he  chewed 
the  corner  of  his  big  moustache  as  he 
always  did  in  moments  of  anger. 

What  had  they  done  with  his  body 
afterwards  ?  If  they  had  only  let  her 
have  her  boy  back  as  they  had  given 
her  back  her  husband — with  the  bullet 
in  the  middle  of  his  forehead! 

But  she  heard  a  noise  of  voices.  It 
was  the  Prussians  returning  from  the 
village.  She  hid  her  letter  very  quick- 
ly in  her  pocket,  and  she  received  them 
quietly,  with  her  ordinary  face,  having 
had  time  to  wipe  her  eyes. 

They  were  laughing,  all  four,  de- 
lighted, since  they  brought  with  them 
a  fine  rabbit — stolen,  doubtless,  and 
they  made  signs  to  the  old  woman 
that  there  was  to  be  something  good 
to  eat. 

She  set  herself  to  work  at  once  to 
prepare  breakfast;  but  when  it  came 
to  killing  the  rabbit,  her  heart  failed 
her.  And  yet  it  was  not  the  first. 
One  of  the  soldiers  struck  it  down 
with  a  blow  of  his  fist  behind  the  ears« 

The  beast  once  dead,  she  separated 
the  red  body  from  the  skin;  but  the 
sight  of  the  blood  she  was  touching 
and  which  covered  her  hands,  of  the 
warm  blood  which  she  felt  cooling  and 
coagulating,  made  her  tremble  from 
head  to  foot;  and  she  kept  seeing  her 
big  boy  cut  in  two,  and  quite  red  also, 
like  this  still  palpitating  animal. 

She  set  herself  at  table  with  the 
Prussians,  but  she  could  not  eat,  not 
even  a  mouthful.  They  devoured  the 
rabbit  without  troubling  themselves 
about  her.  She  looked  at  them  ask- 
ance .  without  speaking,  ripening  a 
thought,  and  with  a  face  so  impassible 
that  they  perceived  nothing. 

All  of  a  sudden  she  said:  *'  I  don't 
even  know  your  names,  and  here's  a 
whole  month  that  we've  been  togeth- 


er." They  understood,  not  without 
difficulty,  what  she  wanted,  and  told 
their  names.  That  was  not  sufficient; 
they  had  written  them  for  her  on  a 
paper,  with  the  addresses  of  their 
families,  and  resting  her  spectacles  on 
her  great  nose,  she  considered  that 
strange  handwriting,  then  folded  the 
sheet  and  put  it  in  her  pocket,  on  top 
of  the  letter  which  told  her  of  the  death 
of  her  son. 

When  the  meal  was  ended  she  said 
to  the  men: 

*'  I  am  going  to  work  for  you." 

And  she  began  to  carry  up  hay  into 
the  loft  where  they  slept. 

They  were  astonished  at  her  taking 
all  this  trouble;  she  explained  to  them 
that  thus  they  would  not  be  so  cold, 
and  they  helped  her.  They  heaped  the 
trusses  of  hay  as  high  as  the  straw 
roof;  and  in  that  manner  they  made  a 
sort  of  great  chamber  with  four  walls 
of  fodder,  warm  and  perfumed,  where 
they  should  sleep  splendidly. 

At  dinner  one  of  them  was  worried 
to  see  that  La  Mere  Sauvage  still  ate 
nothing.  She  told  him  that  she  had 
the  cramps.  Then  she  kindled  a  good 
fire  to  warm  herself  up,  and  the  four 
Germans  mounted  to  their  lodging 
place  by  the  ladder  which  served  them 
every  night  for  this  purpose. 

As  soon  as  they  closed  the  trap  the 
old  woman  removed  the  ladder,  then 
opened  the  outside  door  noiselessly 
and  went  back  to  look  for  more  bun- 
dles of  straw,  with  which  she  filled  her 
kitchen.  She  went  barefoot  in  the 
snow  so  softly  that  no  sound  was 
heard.  From  time  to  time  she  listened 
to  the  sonorous  and  unequal  snorings 
of  the  four  soldiers  who  were  fast 
asleep. 

When  she  judged  her  preparations 
to  be  sufficient,  she  threw  one  of  the 
bundles  into  the  fireplace,  and  when  it 
was  alight  she  scattered  it  over  all  the 
others.  Then  she  went  outside  again 
and  looked. 

In  a  few  seconds  the  whole  interior 
of  the  cottage  was  illumined  with  a 
violent  brightness  and  became  a  dread- 
ful brasier,  a  gigantic  fiery  furnace, 
whose   brilliance    spouted    out  of  the 


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LA  MERE  SAW  AGE 


narrow  window  and  threw  £i  glittering 
beam  upon  the  snow. 

Then  a  great  cry  issued  from  the 
summit  of  the  house;  it  was  a  clamour 
of  human  shriekings,  heart-rending 
calls  of  anguish  and  of  fear.  At  last, 
the  trap  having  fallen  in,  a  whirlwind 
of  fire  shot  up  into  the  loft,  pierced  the 
straw  roof,  rose  to  the  sky  like  the 
immense  flame  of  a  torch,  and  all  the 
cottage  flared. 

Nothing  more  was  heard  therein 
but  the  crackling  of  the  fire,  the 
crackling  sound  of  the  walls,  the 
falling  of  the  rafters.  All  of  a  sudden 
the  roof  fell  in,  and  the  burning  car- 
cass of  the  dwelling  hurled  a  great 
plume  of  sparks  into  the  air  amid  a 
cloud  of  smoke. 

The  country,  all  white,  lit  up  by  the 
(ire,  shone  like  a  cloth  of  silver  tinted 
with  red. 

A  bell,  far  off,  began  to  toll. 

The  old  ''Sauvage"  remained  stand- 
ing before  her  ruined  dwelling,  armed 
with  her  gun,  her  son's  gun,  for  fear 
lest  one  of  those  men  might  escape. 

When  she  saw  that  it  was  ended  she 
threw  her  weapon  into  the  brasier.  A 
loud  report  rang  back. 

People  were  coming,  the  peasants, 
Prussians. 

They  found  the  woman  seated  on  the 
trunk  of  a  tree,  calm  and  satisfied. 

A  German  officer,  who  spoke  French 
like  a  son  of  France,  demanded  of 
her: 

**  Where  are  your  soldiers  ?" 

She  extended  her  thin  arm  towards 
the  red  heap  of  fire  which  was  gradu- 
ally going  out,  and  she  answered  with 
a  strong  voice: 

"There." 

They  crowded  round  her.  The  Prus- 
sian asked: 

"  How  did  it  take  fire  ?" 

She  said: 

'*  It  was  I  who  set  it  on  fire." 

They  did  not  believe  her,  they 
thought  that  the  sudden  disaster  had 
made  her  crazy,  so  while  all  pressed 
round  and  listened  she  told  the  thing 


from  one  end  to  the  other,  from  the 
arrival  of  the  letter  to  the  last  cry  of 
the  men  who  were  burned  with  her 
house.  She  did  not  forget  a  detail  of 
all  which  she  had  felt,  nor  of  all  which 
she  had  done. 

When  she  had  finished  she  drew  two 
pieces  of  paper  from  her  pocket,  and 
to  distinguish  them  by  the  last  glim- 
mers of  the  fire,  she  again  adjusted  her 
spectacles;  then  she  said,  showing  one: 
''That,  that  is  the  death  of  Victor." 
Showing  the  other,  she  added,  indicat- 
ing the  red  ruins  with  a  bend  of  the 
head:  "That,  that  is  their  names,  so 
that  you  can  write  home."  She  calm- 
ly held  the  white  sheet  out  to  the  offi- 
cer, who  held  her  by  the  shoulders,  and 
she  continued: 

**  You  must  write  how  it  happened, 
and  you  must  say  to  their  mothers  that 
it  was  I  who  did  that,  Victoire  Simon, 
la  Sauvage!     Do  not  forget." 

The  officer  shouted  some  orders  in 
German.  They  seized  her,  they  threw 
her  against  the  walls  of  the  house, 
still  hot.  Then  twelve  men  drew  up 
quickly  before  her  at  twenty  paces. 
She  did  not  move.  She  had  under- 
stood; she  waited. 

An.  order  rang  out,  followed  instant- 
ly by  a  long  report.  A  belated  shot 
went  off  by  itself  after  the  others. 

The  old  woman  did  not  fall.  She 
sank  as  though  they  had  mowed  her 
off  her  legs. 

The  Prussian  officer  approached. 
She  was  almost  cut  in  two,  and  in  her 
withered  hand  she  held  her  letter 
bathed  in  blood. 

My  friend  Serval  added: 

**  It  was  by  way  of  reprisal  that  the 
Germans  destroyed  the  chateau  of  the 
district,  which  belonged  to  me." 

As  for  me,  I  thought  of  the  mothers 
of  those  four  gentle  fellows  burned  in 
that  house,  and  of  the  atrocious  hero- 
ism of  that  other  mother  shot  against 
the  wall. 

And  I  picked  up  a  little  stone,  still 
blackened  by  the  flames. 


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:!ri ; 


HOW  OUR 

GRANDFATHERS 

LIVED; 

OR, 

GLIMPSES    OF    CANADIAN 
PIONEER    LIFE 

By    FRANK    YEIGH 


|UT  a  century  has  been  re- 
quired to  revolutionize  the 
way  of  living'  in  the  English- 
speaking  part  of  Canada. 
Rural  Quebec  has  felt  the 
revolution  to  a  much  less  degree,  but 
in  Ontario  the  change  from  the  condi- 
tions of  life  of  a  hundred  years  ag'o  has 
been  a  radical  one.  It  is,  indeed, 
difficult  to  realize  in  this  age  of  rapid 
transportation,  applied  science  and 
ready  accessibility  to  the  necessaries 
as  well  as  the  luxuries  of  life,  that 
these  simpler  times  of  our  forbears  are 
not  more  remote.  Mr.  Goldwin  Smith 
— now  an  octogenarian — bridged  his 
span  of  life  when,  in  a  reminiscent 
mood,  he  was  able  to  say:  ''I  have 
talked  with  a  man  who  talked  to  the 
man  who  was  Premier  of  England  in 
iSoi — to  Addington  about  Pitt  I 
remember  the  rejoicing  in  England 
over  the  Reform  Bill.  I  remember 
seeing  the  farm-buildings  near  my 
father's  house  burned  by  raiders  who 


BAKE    KETTLE 


Opposed  the  introduction  of  threshing 
machines.  I  recall,  as  a  lad,  seeing 
the  servants  light  the  fire  with  a  tinder 
box.  I  have  seen  a  man  in  the  stocks. 
I  have  heard  the  curfew.  I  taught  his 
present  Majesty  King  Edward  English 
History  when  he  was  a  lad." 

In  like  manner  there  are  thousands 
still  living  in  our  own  land  who  have 
passed  through  experiences  similar  to 
those  here  related;  there  are  many 
more,  of  a  later  generation,  who  have 
had  the  domestic  life  of  the  early  nine- 
teenth century  brought  vividly  to  mind 
by  these  aged  eye-witnesses. 

The  advantages  in  thus  recalling 
some  of  the  ways  in  which  our  grand- 
fathers lived  are  obvious.  The  com- 
parison will  serve  as  a  basts  for 
estimating  the  distance  we  have 
advanced  in  little  more  than  two 
generations.  It  should,  moreover,  lead 
us  to  recognize  more  fully  the  debt  we 
owe  to  those  valiant  pioneers  for  the 
brave  battles  they  fought  under  adverse 
conditions.  If  Canada  should  ever 
have  a  Hall  of  Fame  or  a  Roll  of 
Immortals,  these  humble  foundation- 
builders  would  deserve  a  niche  equally 
with  the  heroes  of  the  battle-field  or 
the  leaders  of  State. 

One  may  further  realize  the  former 
days  by  recalling  that  Canadians  of  1800 
had  no  railways,  no  steamboats,  no 
highways,  in  the  modern  sense,  no 
telegraphs  or  telephones,  no  harnessed 
electricity,  no  **  horseless  horse  cars," 
no  automobiles  (thank  Heaven  I).  They 
were    practically    without  clergymen. 


226 


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HOW  OUR  GRANDFATHERS  LIVED 


227 


doctors,  judges  or  lawyers,  and  the 
schoolmaster  was  not  yet  abroad  in 
the  land.  The  abundant  crop  of  par- 
liamentary representatives  of  to-day 
(over  700  in  all  the  legislative  bodies 
of  Canada)  had  not  then  begun  to 
sprout  in  earnest.  There  was  little 
money  in  circulation  with  which  to 
carry  on  business;  there  were  no  stores 
to  speak  of,  and  consequently  no  bar- 
gain days!  There  was  no  gas  and  no 
such  thing  as  a  match;  the  flint  and 
steel,  or  the  brimstone-tipped  pine  stick 
was  relied  upon  for  starting  the  flame. 
There  were  no  envelopes,  no  blotting- 
paper,  no  steel  pens,  and  the  sand  box 
was  in  requisition  to  dry  the  ink;  in 
fact,  there  was  a  sad  lack  of  what  we 
in  this  wiser  generation  regard  as  es- 
sentials. 

But  there  were  compensating  advan- 
tages: a  simplicity  and  wholesomeness 
of  life  that  ensured  health  and  length 
of  days;  so  long  a  life  that  an  old 
family  record  speaks  of  the  **  pre- 
mature "  death  of  a  man  of  84!  There 
was  a  rational  enjoyment  of  God's  best 
blessings  of  nature,  a  hearty,  unaffected 
social  life,  and  a  sound  moral  sense  of 
rigfht  and  justice.  There  was  mutual 
self-help,  a  hospitality  that  was  not 
measured  by  motive,  a  burdened  table  of 
good  things  where  it  was  bad  form  to 
refuse  what  was  offered,  no  matter 
what  nature's  penalty  might  be.  In  a 
word,  a  sane  mode  of  life  was  lived 
that  produced  strong  men  and  brave 
women. 

Brave  in  truth  were  our  grand- 
mothers— brave  in  what  they  endured 
in  the  loneliness  and  isolation  of 
pioneer  life;  in  the  dangers,  too,  when 
the  weird  howl  of  the  hungry  wolf  was 
heard  in  the  forest  near  the  clearing,  or 
when  the  stealthy-stepping  Indian 
would  glide  like  an  apparition,  un- 
heralded and  unannounced,  into  the 
log  home.  Brave  were  they  in  the 
spirit  in  which  sorrows  were  borne  and 
testing  trials  met. 

The  ladies  of  a  century  ago  did  not, 
fortunately,  have  to  rely  upon  the 
fashion-plates  of  a  daily  paper.  Native 
feminine  talent  transformed  their  lim- 
ited   material    into     serviceable    gar- 


ments. At  first  the  hides  of  the  fur- 
bearing  animals,  obtained  from  the 
Indians  in  barter,  were  the  chief  source 
of  clothing  supply.  One  can  easily 
imagine  that  a  rosy-cheeked,  bright- 
eyed,  well-built  lassie  of  1800  would, 
when  clad  in  deerskin  petticoats  and 
skirts  and  squirrel-skin  bonnet,  break 
masculine  hearts  quite  as  disastrously  as 
if  she  had  worn  creations  of  a  modern 
modiste.  And  the  utility  of  a  deer- 
skin petticoat,  that  could  not  be  torn 
by  a  rough  journey  through  the  woods, 
or  the  turning  of  a  deerskin  suit  into  a 
warm  bed-cover  at  night,  will  com- 
mend itself  to  every  feminine  descend- 
ant of  our  mothers'  mothers. 


A  MACHINE  FOR  BREAKING  THE  FLAX- 
USUALLV  KNOWN  AS  A  HACKLE. 


No  fancy-pointed  patent  shoes 
dressed  their  feet,  for  there  were  no 
tanners,  and  for  many  a  year  no  shoe- 
maker, until  itinerant  St.  Crispins 
came  on  the  scene — shoemakers  on 
circuit,  like  the  preacher  and  the 
schoolmaster  of  the  early  days.  They 
were  the  days,  indeed,  when  the  set- 
tler was  a  many-sided  character,  for  he 
was  perforce  carpenter  and  blacksmith 
and  shoemaker  and  tailor  if  need  be 
rolled  in  one. 

Let  us  draw  back  the  curtains  of 
Time  and  peep  into  a  pioneer  log  home. 
The  rough-walled  retreat  is  but  rudely 
furnished  and  its  floor  is  carpeted  with 
skins  or  rag-carpets.     A  ladder  leads 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


to  the  attic,  where  any  num- 
ber of  men-foik  can  be  stoweJ 
away  at  night-time.  The 
hearthstone  is  the  altar  of  the 
home,  and  seated  in  a  semi- 
circle around  it  are  its  priest- 
esses. Busy,  busy,  always 
busy  are  the  women-folk,  amid 
a  buzz  of  talk  that  mingles 
with  the  hum  of  the  distaff  or 
the  song  of  the  spinning-wheel. 
There  sits  Grandmother  in 
front  of  the  deeply  recessed  fire- 
place which  glows  cheerily  red 
from  the  giant  back  log  that 
required  the  strength  of  a  horse 
to  draw  it  to  the  cabin  door.  A 
benediction  is  in  Grandmoth- 
er's placid  face,  an  inspiration 
in  her  smile,  and  evident  peace 
of  heart  under  her  quaint 
starched  cap.  Stirring  tales 
the  dear  old  mother  can  tell — 
of  the  flight  of  her  Loyalist  family  from 
the  New  England  home  to  the  shores 
of  Quinte,  involving  hardships  that 
show  what  stuff  Grandmother  was 
made  of!  Tales  too  of  the  trials  of 
the  first  days  in  the  new  land,  when  a 
fresh  start  in  life  had  to  be  made. 

There  too  sits  the  dear  Mother  in 
homespun,  and  even  as  a  hen  gathereth 
her  chickens  under  her  wing,  so 
Mother,  by  the  loadstone  of  love, 
attracts  her 
brood  to  her 
skirts.  All  the 
bonny  chil- 
dren are  early 
taugh  t  to 
work.  That 
we  can  see  as 
we  gaze  into 
the  interior,  to 
spin  and  sew 
if  they  be  girls; 
to  fashion 
tools  and  im- 
plements if 
they  be  boys. 
To  the  right 
is  a  group  of 
daugh  t  e  rs, 
breaking, 
scutching  and 


WAFFLE    IRONS 


GOURD    DIPPERS 


spinning  flax  from  which  will 
come  the  table  linen  and  wear- 
ing apparel  that  will  last  a  life- 
time. Sewing  and  knitting  ma- 
chines are  unknown,  but  Na- 
ture's deft  hands  are  the  im- 
plements that  produce  the  best 
of  goods.  So  work  away  the 
lassies. 

What  a  wonder-palace  the 
log-ribbed  room  is  !  Who 
would  ever  dream  that  such  an 
inventory  of  articles  could  be 
crowded  in  the  little  apart- 
ment !  On  the  fireplace  shelf 
are  the  heirlooms  in  crockery, 
travelled  crockery  mind  you, 
for  it  has  seen  foreign  lands 
and  crossed  the  Atlantic  in  a 
clipper  ship  and  afterwards 
heard  the  cannon  of  a  Revolu- 
tion. The  light  of  the  burning 
logs  is  added  to  by  the  tallow 
dips  and  the  candles,  and  there,  sure 
enough,  is  the  candle  box  and  the  candle 
mould.  The  gourd  dipper  hangs  from 
its  nail,  and  the  skimmer  for  use  in  the 
sugaring  off  is  its  neighbour.  They 
have  often  worked  together  in  the 
maple  woods.  Shining  warming  pans 
speak  of  warm  feet.  Waffle  irons  too, 
and  rU  warrant  the  waffles  tasted  as 
good  as  the  word  suggests.  And  by 
the  same  token,  Til  wager  the  hand- 
made tooth  puller  gave  as  much  pain 
as  its  black  outline  and  size  indicate. 
Strong  enough  it  appears  to  pull  the 
molar  of  a  mastodon. 

Ah,  what  is  this  ?  Shocking,  shock- 
ing,— a  toddy  ladle,  as  brazen  in  its 
boldness  as  the  capacious  punch  bowl 
itself !  Pewter  plates,  mugs  and 
spoons  are  in  a  military  line.  Spoons 
of  wood  too  and  forks  of  iron  and  buck- 
handled  knives  that  saw  action  three 
times  a  day.  And  there  is  a  contrivance 
for  cutting  loaf  sugar  in  the  days  when 
it  was  sold  in  large  chunks. 

All  these  utensils  and  many  more 
are  dignifled  by  a  place  on  the  shelf. 
Above  hang  hand-made  lanterns.  Old 
guns  that  invariably  kicked — and 
killed.  Powder  horns,  discoloured  with 
years  of  use.  A  tin  dinner  horn  of 
prodigious  length  that  has  called  many 


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HOW  OUR  GRANDFATHERS  LIVED 


229 


a  labourer  from  the  stump-strewn  fields 
to  bis  meals.  Axe  heads,  a  score  of 
them  it  seems,  and  the  oldest  boy  over 
in  the  corner,  whittling  something,  can 
sink  the  biggest  axe  of  the  lot  up  to 
its  hilt  in  a  soft  elm  or  maple  at  one 
blow,  for  those  were  the  days  of  muscle 
— applied  muscle. 

The  apple- parer  and  bone  gouge  for 
coring  the  apples  bring  up  visions  of 
the  days  of  the  social  bee — apple  bees, 
husking  bees,  quilting  bees,  logging 
and  clearing  and  barn  raising  bees — all 
of  them  times  of  social  gayety,  especi- 
ally when  the  wandering  fiddler  could 
be  waylaid  for  the  events.  Good  old- 
fashioned  fun  did  our  grandfolks  get 
out  of  life  on  these  great  occasions, 
even  though  the  wag-at-the-wall  clock 
solemnly  ticked  its  disapproval. 

The  bushy-browed  settler  bends  to 
stir  up  the  slumbering  fire  with  the 
long-handled  poker,  for  a  fierce  heat 
is  radiated  from  the  deep  bed  of 
embers,  and  as  the  eye  follows  his 
movements  it  catches  sight 
of  the  world  of  pots  and 
pans  and  kettles  that  swing 
from  the  great  cranes.  If 
we  are  patient  we  will  later 
have  a  glimpse  of  the  sacred 
hour  of  cooking  in  the  old 
log  cabin  palace  of  peace; 
we  will  see,  too,  how  the 
mothers  of  the  former  time 
did  without  new  fangled 
cooking  stoves  and  gas 
ranges  and  patent  ovens  and 
cook  books  and  ready-to-be- 
eaten  mysteries.  In  this  old 
bake  kettle  is  being  placed 
a  big  batch  of  dough,  and 
kettle  and  contents  are  then 
buried  in  the  red-hot  ashes, 
and  covered,  lid  and  all, 
with   the   glowing  embers. 

What  stores  of  goodies 
issue  from  the  hearth!  Cook- 
ies— what  a  world  of  mean- 
ing the  word  still  holds! 
Cakes,  corn  and  wheat  and 
honey  and  pound  cakes. 
Pies,  deep,  luscious,  abid- 
ing! Pasties,  meat  pasties 
at    that,    the    receipt    for 


AN    EARLY  FRYING-PAN 

which  came  from  Devon.  And  the 
pasties  have  the  finest  of  browned 
juice  on  the  curled-up  edges  of  the 
paste.  Honey  in  the  comb.  That 
implies  bees  and  bee  -  keeping,  and 
the  blowing  of  horns  and  pounding 
of  tin  cans  to  keep  the  bees  from 
going  away  when  swarming.  But 
there  are  more  good  things  in  this  an- 
cient menu,  such  as  apple  tarts  and 
apple  sauce,  and  dried-apple  dishes 
in  galore;  pease  puddings,  sourkrout, 
ginger  bread,  fat  fowl  roasted  on  the 
turning  spits,  meats  fried  in  the  long- 
handled  pans  to  a  cheerful  tune  from 
the  spluttering  gravy,  like  unto  the 
succulent  sound  that  Tiny  Tim  must 
have  heard  when  the  pudding  sang  in 
its  kettle  on  that  mythical  Christmas 
of  long  ago. 

And  now  the  family  surround  the 
table,  when  one  realizes  that  the  sol- 
emn words  of  Governor  Simcoe  were 
true,  '*that  the 
spirit  of  the 
young  country 
seemed  to  be  in 
favour  of  men 
who  dined  in 
common  with 
their  servants!" 
Poor  Simcoe,  and 


**  The  world  of  pots  and  pans  and  kettles  " 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


he  trying  to  plant  a  modified  aristocracy 
in  the  land  by  appointing  military  offi- 
cers to  government  positions ! 

These  early  century  menus  some- 
times meant  sacrifice  and  cost,  when 
the  settler  had  to  carry  his  limited 
store  of  wheat  a  hundred  miles  or 
more  to  the  nearest  mill  in  order  to 
bring  back  a  precious  supply  of  flour. 
Nature,  however,  was  often  prodigal 
in  her  gifts  of  food  when  the  wild 
fruits  were  in  abundance,  and  game 
and  fish  abounded.  But  there  was 
not  always  a  full  pantry.  Terrible 
must  have  been  the  experiences  of  the 
Hungry  Year  of  1788  in  Canada,  when 
the  frogs  saved  many  a  life  from  star- 
vation, and  the  newly-planted  potato 


THE   OX-BOW   WHICH   PLAYED    SO    LARGE   A   PART   IN   CLEAR 
ING   THE   FOREST  LANDS  OF   EASTERN  CANADA 


had  to  be  dug  up  and  eaten.  There 
were  times,  too,  when  the  wheat  froze 
in  the  head  and  wheat  bread  was  in 
consequence  an  absent  article  of  diet. 
On  other  occasions  the  government 
supply  trains  were  overtaken  by  the 
winter  and  frozen  up,  as  a  result  of 
which  the  settlers  who  were  depending 
upon  the  expected  stock  were  com- 
pelled to  have  recourse  to  the  buds  of 
basswood  trees,  and  beef  bones  were 
loaned  from  neighbour  to  neighbour  as 
stock  for  soup.  Both  the  white  men 
and  the  Indian  relied  much  upon  the 
animal  and  fish  life.  The  waters 
teemed  with  fish  as  the  air  with  birds, 
and  the  woods  with  small  game  as 
well  as  deer  and  moose.  There  was 
no  limit  to  the  wild  ducks,  especially 
along  the  water  stretches  of  the  Quinte 


shore.  Famous  sport  had  our  grand- 
fathers when  they  were  young,  shoot- 
ing black  squirrels,  trapping  wild  pig- 
eons, spearing  salmon,  or  scooping 
them  up  in  prodigious  numbers.  The 
skilful  red  man  was  wont  to  spear  the 
fish  by  torchlight  as  he  stood  alert  in 
the  prow  of  his  canoe.  The  hunting 
of  the  larger  game  and  the  attempt  to 
exterminate  the  wolves  also  led  to 
many  an  exciting  adventure  in  the 
depths  of  a  Canadian  forest. 

Eating  has  ever  gone  with  drinking, 
and  the  toddy  ladle  we  saw  in  the  cabin 
home  forces  the  further  truth  to  be 
chronicled  that  in  the  beginning  days 
of  Canada's  life  whisky  drinking  was 
not  unknown;  when,  in  fact,  it  was 
consumed  by  the  bowl  full, 
and  when  a  man's  stand- 
ard of  capacity  was  placed 
at  two  quarts.  At  twenty- 
five  cents  per  quart  the  cost 
was  not  excessive.  For 
years  there  was  but  one 
distillery  between  York 
and  Kingston,  and  as  an 
accessory  to  the  stronger 
liquid,  as  soon  as  orchards 
began  to  bear,  the  cider 
jug  was  a  feature  of  the 
capacious  cellars,  along 
with  the  barrels  of  winter 
apples  and  the  bins  of  roots 
and  vegetables. 
Drinking  was  a  feature  of  the  vari- 
ous **bees."  On  the  occasion  of  a 
barn  raising  a  man  would  mount  the 
top  plate  of  the  skeleton  structure, 
swing  a  bottle  three  times  around  his 
head  and  throw  it  in  the  air.  If  it  fell 
unbroken  it  meant  good  luck,  evidenc- 
ing one  of  the  many  superstitions  pre- 
valent in  the  early  times.  Other  forms  of 
superstitions  were  the  supposed  sight  of 
a  winding  sheet  in  a  candle  fiame,  or 
that  the  howling  of  a  dog  at  the  moon 
meant  trouble  for  the  inmates  of  the 
house,  or  when  a  sudden  shudder  came 
over  one  it  foretold  that  an  enemy  was 
walking  over  the  spot  which  would  later 
be  one*s  grave.  May  was  regarded  as 
an  unlucky  month  in  which  to  be  mar- 
ried, and  it  was  equally  unlucky  to  kill 
hogs  in  the  wane  of  the  moon. 


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HOW  OUR  GRANDFATHERS  LIVED 


231 


Speaking  of  weddings  reminds  one 
that  there  was  marrying  and  giving  in 
marriage  in  the  same  pioneer  times. 
The  courting  was  sometimes  carried 
on  in  Indian  fashion,  when  the  fair 
Hehe  would  run  through  the  forest  in 
a  pretended  effort  to  escape  the  pur- 
suing lover,  who  invariably  caught  his 
victim.  A  kiss  was  the  sign  of  vic- 
tory, and  the  wedding  soon  after  closed 
the  romantic  chapter. 

There  were  difficulties  innumerable 
in  the  way  of  these 
trusty  hearts  of  old. 
For  years  there  were 
scarce  half  a  score 
of  clergymen  oi  the 
established  church 
in  Upper  Canadaau- 
thorized  to  perform 
the  marriage  cere- 
mony. A  few  mag- 
istrates held  the 
same  power.  To- 
day all  that  a  mod- 
ern lover  needs  is  a 
two-dollar  bill  for  a 
license — and  a  girl! 
But  in  1800  and 
thereabouts  the 
happy  couples  were 
sometimes  compel- 
led to  travel  long 
distances  on  foot  or 
on  horseback  to 
wait  on  minister  or 
magistrate.  An  in- 
teresting tale  of 
early  Canadian 
life  records  the 
fact  that  rings 
were  as   scarce   as 

clergymen  or  magistrates.  One  offi- 
cial, rather  than  turn  away  an  ard- 
ent couple  that  had  walked  twenty 
miles  to  his  settlement,  found  on  a 
primitive  pair  of  skates  a  rough  steel 
ring.  Though  a  homely  substitute  the 
bride  was  told  she  must  perforce  wear 
it  to  make  the  ceremony^binding,  and 
wear  it  she  did  for  many!*  a  long  year 
thereafter,  and  the  trophy  is  a  highly- 
prized  heirloom  among  her  descend- 
ants to-day. 

It  is  interesting  to  read  in  this  con- 


nection of  the  dowries  of  our  grand- 
mothers. A  generous  one  was  a  piece 
of  land,  a  colt,  a  heifer,  a  yoke  of 
steers,  two  sheep,  some  pigs,  a  linen 
chest  with  bed  and  bedding  and  feather 
ticks,  crockery  and  cutlery  and  some 
hand-made  furniture.  The  wedding  fee 
stood  for  a  long  time  at  one  dollar. 

All  the  furniture  of  the  time  was 
perforce  hand-made,  such  as  chairs 
with  elm-back  seats,  tables  of  rough 
hewn    boards,    and     bedsteads — four 


A  SPINNING   WHEEL   USED   BY  OUR   GRANDMOTHERS 


posters — cut  from  the  native  lumber. 
Sometimes  the  baby's  cradle  was  the 
sap  trough  of  the  sugar  season,  but 
lined  with  blankets  and  resting  on 
rockers,  our  pioneer  babies  slept  sound- 
ly and  never  did  the  trough  hold  a 
sweeter  burden. 

Practically  all  the  implements  were 
hand-made  —  the  reels  for  winding 
yarn,  the  hand  looms,  the  trunks  made 
of  bark  and  the  beehives  of  plaited 
straw,  the  plows  with  wooden  frames 
and  wrought  iron  mould  boards,  the 


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primitive  harrows  made  of  the  butt  end 
of  a  tree  which  the  oxen  hauled 
around  the  stumps  in  the  process  of 
**  bushing  in."  Scythes,  cradles  and 
flails  were  the  precursors  of  mowers, 
reapers  and  threshing  machines.  The 
wheat  was  sometimes  ground  at  home 
by  pounding  or  crushing  it  in  the 
burnt-out  hollow  of  a  stump,  a  block 
of  wood  attached  to  a  springing  pole 
acting  as  a  pestle  in  the  mortar  cavity. 
The  ways  our  grandfathers  travelled 
is  in  interesting  contrast  with  modern 
methods.  The  horseback  way  was  for 
years  the  only  means  of  covering  long 
distances  through  the  bush,  with  the 
oats  in  the  saddle  bags,  a  gun  or  toma- 
hawk for  weapons,  and  provision  for 
camping  out  if  night  overtook  the 
traveller.  Journeying  by  water  was 
in  bateaux  or  flat-bottomed  Durham 
boats.  After  a  lime,  along  with  bet- 
ter roads,  came  the  springless  wag- 
gons with  boxes  resting  directly  on  the 
axles  and  chairs  for  the  use  of  the  pas- 
sengers in  the  body-racking  journey. 


A  SMALLER-SIZED  SPINNING   WHEEL 


A  YARN   REEL 

A  writer  describes  the  old  waggons 
and  stage  coaches  *'as  rolling  and 
tumbling  along  a  detestable  road, 
pitching  like  a  scow  among  the  break- 
ers of  a  lake  storm,  with  road  knee- 
deep  in  mud  and  an  impenetrable  for- 
est on  either  side."  It  of  necessity 
took  weeks  of  time  to  cover  the  dis- 
tance, for  example,  between  York  and 
Kingston  or  Niagara. 

The  market  prices  for  commodities 
also  throw  a  suggestive  light  on  the 
days  of  our  grandfathers.  An  ancient 
price  list  of  1804,  quoted  by  Canniff 
Haight,  reads  as  follows:  A  gimlet  50 
cents,  a  padlock  $1.50,  a  jack  knife  $1, 
calico, $1.50  per  yard;  tea,  eight  to  ten 
shillings  a  pound,  Halifax  currency; 
needles,  a  penny  each;  ball  of  cotton, 
yd;  board  of  pigs,  $1  a  week;  an  axe, 
$2.50;  salt,  6d  a  lb. 

The  early  store  was  a  departmental 
store  in  miniature,  and  bartering  was 
the  chief  feature  of  trade.  An  old 
lady  of  my  acquintance  has  told  of 
buying  a  farm  with  a  saddle,  and  a 
yoke  of  oxen  in  another  case  was 
traded  for  200  acres  of  land.  Butter, 
cheese,  homespun  clothing,  lumber, 
pork,  ox  hides,  molasses,  shingles  and 
potash  were  a  widely  varied  list  of 
articles  used  in  trading.  In  the  Tal- 
bot Settlement  in  181 7  it  took  eighteen 


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WIND   SONG 


233 


bushels  of  wheat  to  buy  a  barrel  of 
salt  and  one  bushel  of  wheat  for  a  yard 
of  cotton.  The  first  clocks  were  $40 
each.  Before  the  clock  days  a  line 
was  cut  in  the  floor,  and  when  the 
sun's  rays  reached  the  meridian  height 
they  were  cast  along  this  mark  through 
a  crack  in  the  door  to  indicate  the  noon 
hour. 

Pens  cost  thirty  cents  each,  but  the 
easily  secured  quill  long  held  its  supre- 
macy. Postage  was  payable  accord- 
ing to  distance — not  exceeding  sixty 
miles,  4d;  100  miles,  yd;  200  miles,  gd; 
and  greater  distances  in  proportion. 

One  should  not  forget  in  this  picture 
of  pioneer  life  the  first  church,  with 
men  and  women  sitting  on  opposite 
sides,  when  the  circuit  rider  made  his 
infrequent  visits  and  preached  sermons 
of  a  length  commensurate  with  the 
rarity  of  their  delivery.  One  of  the 
humorous  bits  of  the  early  Upper  Ca- 
nadian archives  is  the  request  sent  to 
London  that  a  **  pious  "  missionary  be 
sent  out  to  the  benighted  settlers  of 
Upper  Canada.  The  first  log  school 
houses  also  deserve  a  word,  with  the 
huge  box  stove  in  the  centre  around 
which    long    wooden     benches    were 


ranged,  too  high  for  the  feet  of  the 
toddlers  to  reach  the  floor.  Tired  and 
sleepy,  the  tiny  students  sometimes 
created  a  panic  by  tumbling  off  their 
uncomfortable  perch! 

The  administration  of  justice  was 
accomplished  under  arduous  condi- 
tions. There  were  few  gaols  or  court- 
houses ;  accommodation  for  jurors, 
lawyers  and  others  was  most  limited, 
and  many  a  trial  was  held  under  the 
trees  or  in  a  tent.  Jurors  were  often 
compelled  to  journey  fifty  miles  or  more, 
and  to  take  ten  or  more  days  before 
returning  home.  When  the  first  gaol 
was  built  in  York  it  was  made  large 
enough  to  hold  debtors  as  well  as 
criminals  of  a  deeper  dye,  the  gaoler 
receiving  5s.  a  day  salary,  and  is.  3d 
daily  for  the  maintenance  of  each  pris- 
oner. 

Such  are  some  of  the  glimpses  of 
early  Canadian  days.  All  honour  to 
our  sturdy  pioneers  for  the  work  they 
accomplished,  the  characters  they 
evolved,  and  the  rich  heritage  they 
passed  on  to  their  children.  May  we 
of  the  twentieth  century  be  as  true  to 
our  conscience  and  country  as  our 
grandfathers — and  grandmothers! 


WIND    SONG 


BY    INGLIS    MORSE 

PLAY  out  thy  song,  O  wind  of  Time, 
O  wind  of  a  thousand  years! 
Life's  solemn  joys  and  falling  tears 
Are  in  thy  voice  sublime. 

Play  out,  O  wind,  play  out  thy  song, 
To  hopes  that  have  forever  fled 
Into  the  land  of  the  long  lost  dead. 

Whither  have  passed  earth's  throng! 

Play  out  thy  song  of  olden  days, 
Of  dreams  that  nevermore  shall  be: 
In  murmuring  repose,  both  full  and  free, 

Now  haste  thee  on  thy  various  ways! 


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J:^:^•€^!^:^i^^^^;/:^^^ 


A   HISTORY  IN  TWELVE 
INSTALMENTS  '^     ^     ^ 


CHAPTER  VII  — LOW  EBB  OF  BRITISH  FORTUNES— MILITARY  APATHY  IN 
MIDDLE  AND  SOUTHERN  COLONIES— OFFICIAL  CORRUPTION  IN  CANADA 
—  MAGNETIC  INFLUENCE  OF  PITT  ON  BRITISH  AFFAIRS  — WOLFE  AND 
AMHERST-SIEGE  AND  CAPTURE  OF  LOUISBOURG- REJOICINGS  IN  ENG- 
LAND — 1757-1768. 


JOUDON,  it  will  be  remem- 
bered, received  the  fateful 
news  from  Fort  William 
Henry  while  yet  upon  the 
ocean,  and  it  must  have 
been  a  bitter  moment  when  -he  realized 
how  completely  he  had  been  outgener- 
alled.  For  the  bloodless  failure  in 
Nova  Scotia  he  could  blame  others;  for 
the  bloody  tragedy  on  Lake  George  his 
own  tactics  were  wholly  responsible. 
He  relieved  his  temper  by  vowing  ven- 
geance against  Montcalm  as  an  abettor 
of  savages  and  murderers,  and  sent 
word  by  a  fast-sailing  craft  to  Webb  to 
hold  out  at  Fort  Edward  till  he  could 
send  him  reinforcements.  It  was  the 
last  of  August  when  he  landed  his 
troops  at  New  York.  But  the  French, 
as  we  have  seen,  had,  for  urgent  rea- 
sons, abandoned  all  attempts  at  an  ad- 
vance up  the  Hudson,  and  had  return- 
ed in  part  to  Canada  to  save  the 
harvest,  and  in  part  to  Ticonderoga  to 
make  that  post  secure.  Loudon  is  sup- 
posed even  now  to  have  cherished 
thoughts  of  attacking  the  French  fort- 


ress, but  if  so  he  soon  abandoned  them 
on  a  closer  view  of  the  situation.  In 
intention  he  was  the  very  soul  of 
energy;  in  execution  he  remains, 
whether  from  his  fault  or  his  ill-fortune, 
the  typical  sluggard  of  the  Seven 
Years'  War  in  America. 

Sir  William  Johnson  had  joined 
Webb  at  Fort  Edward,  with  a  small 
band  of  his  Indians,  just  about  the 
time  of  the  fall  of  William  Henry,  and 
a  day  or  two  after,  but  all  too  late,  raw 
militia  had  begun  to  pour  in  by  the 
hundred.  Their  behaviour,  however, 
was  so  mutinous,  and  their  conduct  so 
riotous,  that  Webb  was  glad  enough 
to  dispense  with  such  troops  and  dis- 
band them,  now  that  their  services 
were  no  longer  needed. 

Only  one  incident  of  moment  mark'- 
ed  this  depressing  autumn  of  a  year  of 
disgrace  and  failure,  and  that  of  a  kind 
by  no  means  calculated  to  lighten  the 
general  gloom  on  the  Mohawk  River. 
Near  those  forts  that  Webb  had,  it 
will  be  remembered,  destroyed  in  his 
panic  after  the  fall  of  Oswego,  was  a 


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THE  FIGHT  FOR  NORTH  AMERICA 


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WILLIAM   PITT,    EARL  OF  CHATHAM 

To  whose  energy  and  determination  much  of  the  later  success  oi  the  war  was  due 


colony  of  thrifty  Palatine  Germans. 
Far  behind  civilization,  in  this  beauti- 
ful^and  fertile  valley,  these  industrious 
settlers  had  been  labouring  for  forty 
years,  and  were  now  a  community  of 
some  three  hundred  souls,  well  situat- 
ed in  comfortable  homesteads  and  till- 
ing valuable  farms.  It  was  a  popular 
creed  among  French-Canadians  that 
the  Germans  of  the  British  colonies 
were  dissatisfied — a  queer  delusion 
in  regard  to  people  who  revelled 
in  an  independence  far  more  novel  to 
them  than  to  Englishmen.     By  way  of 


encouraging  other  Germans  to  crave 
for  the  paternal  government  of  France, 
one,  De  Bellaitre,  was  despatched  by 
Vaudreuil  with  a  hundred  Canadians 
and  two  hundred  Indians  to  read  them 
a  lesson.  Paddling  up  the  St.  Law- 
rence from  Montreal,  past  the  now 
familiar  Thousand  Islands  into  Lake 
Ontario,  they  struck  southward  to 
Lake  Oneida,  crossed  the  portage  of 
the  Mohawk  watershed,  and  fell  sud- 
denly upon  the  unhappy  Teutons,  kill- 
ing every  man  that  resisted,  destroy- 
ing their  live  stock,  and  carrying  off 


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more  than  a  hundred  women  and 
children  into  captivity.  A  small  British 
detachment  from  Fort  Herkimer  hur- 
ried up,  but  they  were  too  late,  and  in 
any  case  too  weak.  Lord  Howe,  com- 
manding further  down  at  Schenectady, 
was  strong  enough,  but  he  arrived 
much  too  late  and  found  nothing  but 
the  smoking  ruins  of  homesteads  and 
hundreds  of  slaughtered  sheep  and 
cattle. 

In  the  meanwhile,  the  Indian  heroes 
of  Fort  William  Henry,  who  had  been 
almost  as  great  a  curse  to  their  friends 
as  to  their  foes,  paraded  their  wretch- 
ed prisoners  at  Montreal,  and  by  no 
means  yielded  them  all  up  to  the  not 
very  insistent  overtures  of  Vaudreuil. 
One  of  these  English  captives,  writes 
Bougainville  who  was  just  then  on  the 
spot,  they  killed  in  presence  of  the 
whole  town  and  forced  his  miserable 
companions  to  devour.  It  is  even  as- 
serted by  French  writers  that  mothers 
were  compelled  to  eat  portions  of  their 
own  children.  Bougainville  shudder- 
ed at  the  horrors  he  saw,  but  was  im- 
potent, for  Canadian  public  opinion 
was  lenient  to  these  little  Indian 
vagaries  so  long  as  other  people  were 
the  victims.  Bigot  the  Intendant,  no 
man  of  war  but  an  expert  in  crooked 
contracts,  calmly  stated  that  the 
savages  must  be  kept  in  good  humour 
at  any  cost.  Vaudreuil,  for  his  part, 
was  quite  proud  of  his  magnanimity  in 
purchasing,  with  Government  brandy, 
the  lives  of  men  who  had  surrendered 
to  his  troops  under  signed  articles; 
while  Indians  reeled  in  crowds  about 
the  rude  streets  of  Montreal,  insolent, 
offensive,  drunken  and  dangerous. 

It  was  a  gloomy  enough  winter,  this 
one  of  1757-58,  in  the  British  provinces. 
Loudon's  troops  had  retired  to  isolat- 
ed snowbound  forts,  or  to  their  much- 
grudged  but  no  longer  disputed  quar- 
ters in  the  principal  cities.  It  was  the 
lowest  point  ever  touched  by  Anglo- 
Saxon  fortunes  in  America.  Oswego 
and  William  Henry  were  scenes  of 
desolation;  Louisbourg  was  contempt- 
uous and  defiant  behind  its  bristling 
rows  of  cannon  and  massive  ramparts; 
the    colonists    even    of  New  England 


were  disheartened  and  disillusioned  as 
to  the  invincibility  of  British  troops, 
and  sore  both  with  their  generals  and 
their  officers.  The  frontiers  of  the 
more  southern  colonies  still  ran  with 
blood,  and  the  labours  of  a  generation 
on  a  belt  of  country  nearly  four  hundred 
miles  in  length  had  been  swept  away. 
Washington,  struggling  almost  alone 
with  provincial  legislatures,  as  twenty 
years  later  he  struggled  quite  alone 
with  the  continental  congress,  had 
patiently  striven  to  mitigate  the  mis- 
ery. He  had  now  been  over  two  years 
at  the  frontier  village  of  Winchester, 
in  the  valley  of  Virginia,  eating  his 
heart  out  in  vain  endeavours  to  stem 
the  hordes  of  Indians  led  by  French- 
men, who  swarmed  across  the  stricken 
borders  of  the  middle  colonies.  ''I 
have  been  posted,"  he  wrote  in  the 
preceding^  spring,  **for  more  than 
twenty  months  on  our  cold  and  barren 
frontiers  to  perform,  I  think  I  may  say, 
an  impossibility;  that  is,  to  protect 
from  the  cruel  incursions  of  a  crafty, 
savage  enemy  a  line  of  inhabitants 
more  than  three  hundred  and  fifty 
miles  in  extent,  with  a  force  inadequate 
to  the  task."  He  was  still  only  twen- 
ty-five, but  a  head  and  shoulders  above 
arty  colonial  soldier  outside  New  Eng- 
land. He  had  no  chance  of  gain  or 
glory  with  his  thousand  or  so  "poor 
whites,"  ill-paid  and  discontented,  and 
recruited  wilh  infinite  difficulty.  His 
officers  were  often  of  no  better  discip- 
line. One  of  them,  he  tells  us,  sent 
word  on  being  ordered  to  his  post, 
that  he  could  not  come,  as  his  wife,  his 
family  and  his  corn  crop  all  required 
his  attention.  **Such,"  says  Washing- 
ton, in  a  white  heat,  **is  the  example 
of  the  officers,  such  the  behaviour  ^{ 
the  men,  and  upon  such  circumstances 
the  safety  of  this  country  depends." 
Three  colonies,  Pennsylvania,  Mary- 
land and  Virginia,  with  some  half- 
million  whites,  to  say  nothing  of  rude 
and  populous  North  Carolina,  could 
only  wring  from  this  large  population 
a  wretched,  half-hearted  militia  of 
2,000  men,  recruited  largely  from  the 
burnt-out  victims  of  the  frontier. 
Where,   one  may  well  ask,   were  the 


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squires  of  Virginia  and 
Maryland,  who  swarm- 
ed along  the  eastern 
counties  of  both  prov- 
inces, and  whose  com- 
fortable homesteads 
reached  to  within  a 
hundred  miles  of  the 
scene  of  this  bloody 
war,  of  their  fellow- 
countrymen's  long 
^i^ony,  and  of  the  im- 
pudent invasion  of 
their  country?  To 
mention  a  dozen  ortwo 
youngmen  of  this  class 
who  rallied  to  Wash- 
ington, would  only  be 
to  aggravate  the  case, 
if  such  were  possible, 
in  the  face  of  these 
statistics.  Men  of  sub- 
stance and  education, 
accustomed  to  horse 
and  gun,  ** outdoor'* 
men  in  fact  or  nothing, 
were  quietly  staying 
at  home  by  thousands 
unstirred  by  feelings  of 
patriotism  or  venge- 
ance, and  apparently 
untouched  by  the  clash 
of  arms  and  the  ordin- 
ary martial  instincts  of 
youth.  Their  grand- 
fathers had  fought; 
their  sons  were  to 
fight;  their  descend- 
ants were  in  the  last 
civil  war  to  be  among 
the  bravest  of  the 
brave.  What  was  this 
generation  doing  at  "^  g 
such    a    moment?  ^q 

Washington,  whose  3 

local  patriotism  no  one  n 

will  dispute,  and  whose         -? 
example  shone  like  a  |H 

beacon  light  amid  the  ^ 

gloom,     cursed    them  | 

often  and  soundly 
in  his  letters  for  do- 
ing nothing.  It  was 
fortunate  for  these  colonies 


c 
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(A 

n 
O 

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H 

t> 

«* 

CO  H 

«  K 
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pa  % 

n  n 
n  z 

w  H 

ii 


CO  > 

z  n 
<  z 

m  o 

\> 

2  '^ 

K  B 

o  * 
z  S 

>  ^ 

i« 

o  n 

X  JJ 

So  o 

o  H 

Z  ^ 

«  o 

PJ  > 
99  o 


that 


came    forward    to    save    them. 


Pitt      people  of  Maryland  and  Virginia  are 
The      more  than  most  other  Americans  proud 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


GENERAL     AMHERST 
FROM  Reynold's  stbbl  engraving 


of  their  ancestry — not  because  they 
were  thrifty  merchants,  for  they  ignor- 
ed commerce;  not  because  they  were 
famous  navigators,  for  they  were  not 
sea-goers;  not  because  they  were 
thrifty  farmers  who  made  two  blades  of 
grass  grow  where  one  had  grown  be- 
fore, for  they  were  sad  economists  in 
this  respect.  The  sentiment  is  by  way 
of  being  that  which  holds  good  in 
Europe,  and  regards  ancestry  in  the 
accepted  sense  of  the  word  as  synonym- 
ous with  an  aptitude  for  arms.  But 
the  tobacco  squires  of  the  Seven  Years' 
War  were  lamentably  wanting  in  those 
generous  and  martial  impulses  which 
supply  almost  the  only  motive  for  pride 
of  race,  and  quite  the  only  one  where 
high  culture  and  learning  are  absent, 


as  was  here  the  case. 
There  is  no  travers* 
ing  the  facts;  they 
are  bare  and  patent, 
and  it  has  always 
seemed  to  us  one  of 
the  most  unaccount- 
able incidents  of 
American  history. 
Think  of  South  Af- 
rica  to-day,  and,  in- 
deed, the  parallel  is 
not  an  inapt  one, 
save  that  in  the  rac- 
ial struggle  for 
North  America  the 
prize  was  greater. 
Think  of  the  colon- 
ists of  every  class 
so  lately  crowding 
by  thousands  to  the 
front,  though  none 
of  their  women, 
children  orj  friends 
have  been  scalped 
and  murdered.  In- 
deed, for  that  mat- 
ter, turn  to  Massa- 
chusetts at  that  day, 
who  alone  sent  to 
the  front  ten  or  fif- 
teen thousand  close- 
fisted,  industrious 
farmers,  men  whose 
labour  was  their 
daily  bread,  and 
whose  absence  from  the  homestead  was, 
for  the  most  part,  a  serious  matter. 

**  Nothing,"  wrote  Washington, 
•*  keeps  me  from  resignation  but  the 
imminent  danger  to  my  country.  The 
supplicating  tears  of  the  women  and 
moving  petitions  of  the  men  melt  me 
into  such  deadly  sorrow,  that  I  sol- 
emnly declare,  if  I  know  my  own  mind, 
I  could  offer  myself  a  willing  sacrifice 
to  the  butchering  enemy,  provided  that 
would  contribute  to  the  people's  ease." 
Washington  was  giving  up  a  life  of 
ease  and  comfort,  neglecting  an  estate 
to  whose  management  he  was  greatly 
attached,  and  those  field  sports  which, 
next  to  fighting,  were  the  passion  of 
his  life.  Here,  however,  on  this  shag- 
gy    blood-stained     frontier,     without 


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means  to  fight  effectively, 
neither  glory  nor  even  thanks 
were  to  be  gained.  He  lost 
his  temper  more  than  once, 
and  wrote  incontrovertible 
but  imprudent  letters  to  the 
Virginian  authorities  at  Wil- 
liamsburg, falling  thereby 
into  the  bad  books  of  the 
gentlemen  who  regarded  the 
state  of  the  frontier  with 
such  prodigious  equanimity. 
At  one  time  an  obscure 
Maryland  captain  of  thirty 
men,  who  held  a  king's  com- 
mission, had  claimed  prece- 
dence of  the  young  colonel 
and  commander  of  the  West- 
em  Frontier.  Washington 
had  then  ridden  the  whole 
way  to  Boston — four  hun- 
dred miles — to  put  the  mat- 
ter straight  with  Shirley, 
then  in  chief  authority,  and 
ensure  against  its  recur- 
rence. 

The  Canadians,  too,  had 
suflfered  greatly  this  winter. 
The  troops  were  reduced  to 
small  rations  of  horse  flesh, 
and  only  the  tact  and  abil- 
ity of  de  L6vis  averted  a 
general  mutiny.  The  small 
social  circles  of  Quebec 
and  Montreal,  however, 
lacked  for  nothing,  but 
danced  and  dined,  and  intrigued  and 
sleighed  in  merry  parties  along  the 
frozen  river  or  through  the  silent 
pine  woods  white  with  their  load  of 
snow.  The  Bureaucracy,  with  Bigot 
at  their  head,  followed  with  unabated 
ardour  their  career  of  fraud  and  trick- 
ery. Never  were  a  king  and  his  sub- 
jects more  flagrantly  cheated.  They 
sold  their  provisions  sent  from  France 
for  the  relief  of  the  colony  and  pocket- 
ed the  money.  They  fixed  the  price 
of  grain  by  law,  bought  it  all  up,  and 
then  retailed  it  at  famine  prices.  They 
sold  Government  supplies  twice  over 
in  collusion  with  the  officers  who  had 
to  sign  the  receipts.  They  purchased 
supplies  for  the  king's  use  through  so 
many  confederate  hands,  that  the  price 


ADMIRAL     EDWARD     BOSCAWEN 
AFrSR  THE  PAINTING  BY  J.  RBYNOLDS 

was  three  or  four  times  that  originally 
paid  for  the  articles.  They  intercepted 
food  granted  by  the  king  to  the  hapless 
Acadian  refugees,  sold  the  larger  part 
back  to  his  Majesty  at  high  prices,  and 
half  starved  the  miserable  outcasts  on 
what  was  left.  The  command  of  an 
outlying  fort  was  regarded  as  equiva- 
lent to  a  small  fortune,  and  bestowed 
accordingly  on  friends  and  relatives. 
The  usual  method  was  to  give  vouch- 
ers for  twice  or  three  times  the  amount 
of  stores  actually  purchased,  and  to 
exchange  the  Government  presents 
sent  to  the  Indians  for  skins  or  turs. 
It  may  well  be  asked.  What  was  Mont- 
calm himself,  the  soul  of  honour,  say- 
ing to  all  this  ?  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
his  position  under  de  Vaudreuil,  who  was 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


himself  mixed  up  in  the  frauds,  was 
sufficiently  delicate  to  make  interfer- 
ence difficult.  But  Montcalm  did  take 
means  to  acquaint  the  home  Govern- 
ment,already  suspicious  of  the  vast  sums 
of  money  demanded,  with  the  condition 
ofafFairs,  and  their  eyes  gradually  open- 
ed. It  is  not  perhaps  wholly  to  be  won- 
dered that  France  lost  some  of  her  en- 
thusiasm for  an  ofifspring  that  tugged 
so  incessantly  at  the  strings  of  her  al- 
most empty  purse,  and  showed  so  little 
profit  for  the  investment.  The  letters 
to  Vaudreuil  from  his  Government  at 
last  grew  harsh  and  threatening,  as 
the  rascality  of  the  whole  business  be- 
gan to  dawn  on  the  hitherto  credulous 
Ministers  of  Marine.  But  it  was  too 
late.  Pitt  was  about  to  settle  down  to 
the  greatest  work  ever  achieved  by  a 
British  Minister.  The  colony  was  now 
entering  a  death-struggle  in  which 
ledgers  and  vouchers  would  be  for  the 
time  forgotten;  and  there  is  good  rea- 
son to  suppose  that  many  a  tell-tale 
document  went  to  feed  the  flames 
which  the  British  torch  or  shell  fire  had 
ignited.  But  the  corruption  of  the 
Canadian  civil  officials,  and  a  great 
number  of  the  colony  officers,  did  not 
interfere  with  the  actual  fighting  power 
of  the  military  machine,  which  was 
itself  a  hardy  plant.  Food  and  clothes 
and  ammunition  for  men  on  active  ser- 
vice were  always  forthcoming.  If  they 
had  not  been,  Montcalm  would  have 
asked  the  reason  why,  with  a  forcible 
authority,  such  as  in  civil  affairs  he 
could  not  call  to  his  aid. 

It  was  at  the  opening  of  the  ever- 
memorable  year  of  1758  that  Pitt,  free 
at  last  from  the  shackles  of  his  prede- 
cessor's plans  and  his  predeces- 
sor's generals,  applied  his  great 
gifts  to  the  task  before  him.  Great 
Britain  was  sunk  in  despondency. 
Chesterfield  declared  we  were  **  no 
longer  a  nation."  If  any  man  had 
asserted  that  in  two  or  three  years  we 
should  take  our  place  at  the  head  of  all 
nations,  never  as  a  world-power  to 
again  relinquish  it,  he  would  have  been 
accounted  as  fit  only  for  Bedlam. 
Many,  though  they  could  not  know 
what  we  do  now  of  the  then  state  of 


France  and  Canada,  thought  we  should 
be  stripped  of  all  influence,  if  not  of 
all  foothold  in  America,  while  the  fear 
in  England  of  a  French  invasion  re- 
turned as  regularly  as  the  summer 
leaves. 

To  free  his  mind  of  all  paltry  cares, 
Pitt  had  flung  the  sordid  part  of  gov- 
ernment to  Newcastle,  who  revelled  in 
it.  It  was  part  of  his  bargain  that 
where  the  honour  or  the  safety  of  the 
nation  were  at  stake  his  word  was  law, 
his  appointments  indisputable;  and  he 
proceeded  at  once  with  fine  audacity  to 
make  hay  of  privilege,  of  family  inter- 
est, of  seniority.  The  incapables  were 
relegated  to  obscurity,  and  those  who 
might  have  caused  annoyance  were 
soothed  by  Newcastle  with  pensions, 
compliments,  or  honours,  which  most 
of  them  perhaps  preferred  to  service  in 
America.  Small  pay  and  brevet  rank 
for  his  servants  seems  to  have  been, 
too,  a  sop  that  Pitt  felt  it  advisable, 
for  the  sake  of  peace,  to  throw  to  the 
long  list  of  rejected  generals,  who 
seem  therein  to  have  found  some 
strange  consolation.  Fortunately, 
Pitt's  young  men  had,  for  the  most 
part,  souls  above  titles  or  lucre,  though 
Wolfe  was  hard  pushed  for  necessary 
money;  and  his  widowed  mother,  after 
his  death,  made  futile  representations 
to  the  Government  for  some  financial 
recognition  of  the  work  done  by  the 
conqueror  of  Quebec.  Pitt's  plans  were 
not  merely  to  reduce  France  to  her 
legitimate  sphere  in  America  and  make 
her  harmless  against  Great  Britain  in 
Europe,  but  to  drive  her  wholly  from 
the  western  hemisphere,  to  wrest  from 
her  every  possession  she  had  outside 
her  own  borders,  to  leave  her  crushed, 
humiliated,  and  powerless  for  aggres- 
sion. 

To  this  end  he  appealed  with  im- 
passioned fervour  to  the  heart  of  Eng- 
land, and  by  a  genius  unequalled  in 
our  history,  and  that  seems  to  us  who 
have  not  seen  or  heard  him,  almost 
magical,  brought  an  apparently  half- 
moribund  nation  into  an  ecstasy  of 
patriotic  ardour.  Every  one  who  ap- 
proached the  great  statesman  caught 
the  inspiration,  and  every  man  in  Eng- 


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THE  FIGHT  FOR  NORTH  AMERICA 


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land  who  had  a  heart  at  all  felt  the 
blood  coursing^  more  briskly  through 
it.  Those  whom  Pitt  called  especially 
to  serve  him  and  maintain  the  nation's 
honour  went  to  the  camp  or  to  the 
wilderness  with  an  enthusiasm  for 
their  chief  and  country,  and  a  sense  of 
exhilaration  that  had  for  long  been 
almost  wholly  lacking. 

With  Pitt's  assistance  in  Europe  to 
the  gallant  Frederick  of  Prussia  we 
have  nothing  to  do.  It  will  be  suffi- 
cient to  say  that  the  Duke  of  Cumber- 
land's reverses  were  fully  avenged,  and 
the  French  repulsed  at  every  point. 

As  for  the  American  campaign, 
which  constitutes  our  story,  there  was 
not  much  opening  for  strategic  inge- 
nuity. As  I  have  endeavoured,  with 
perhaps  undue  reiteration,  to  make 
clear,  there  were  certain  routes  through 
the  northern  wilderness  by  which 
French  and  English  could  seriously  at- 
tack each  other,  and  none  other. 
There  was  nothing  new,  therefore,  in 
Pitt's  American  programme  for  1758 
but  the  men  who  were  to  carry  it  out 
and  the  kind  of  spirit  which  animated 
them.  Above  all,  there  was  the  en- 
thusiasm with  which  the  people  of 
England — particularly  of  that  substan- 
tial but  unrepresented  middle  class  to 
whom  Pitt's  personality  appealed — 
supported  him  with  heart  and  purse. 

Loudon  had  abandoned  the  only  true 
path  of  American  warfare,  probably 
because  his  predecessor,  Shirley,  a 
civilian,  had  planned  it,  and,  as  we 
have  seen,  left  New  York  almost  de- 
fenceless in  a  vain  attempt  to  gather 
laurels  upon  distant  shores.  It  was 
no  thanks  to  him  that  the  colony  was 
still  in  British  hands,  and  Pitt  now  re- 
called him  with  contemptuous  brevity. 
It  is  only  to  be  regretted  that  Aber- 
cromby  did  not  sail  in  the  same  ship. 
The  excuse  put  forward  for  making 
such  concession  to  routine  in  the  mat- 
ter of  this  luckless  officer  is,  that  Pitt 
felt  secure  in  the  fact  that  the  young 
Lord  Howe,  one  of  the  most  rising 
soldiers  and  most  estimable  characters 
in  the  British  army,  would  be  at  his 
right  hand;  but,  however  probable,  this 
is,  after  all,  but  a  matter  of  conjecture. 


Ticonderoga,  Fort  Duquesne  and 
Louisbourg  were  to  be  the  objects  this 
year  of  three  separate  expeditions.  Of 
the  first,  Abercromby,  now  in  America, 
was  to  be  in  command;  and  of  the 
second.  Brigadier  Forbes,  a  Scottish 
soldier  of  merit  and  energy.  Louis- 
bourg was  made  a  matter  of  prime  im- 
portance, as  the  fleet  was  to  co-oper- 
ate. Amherst,  a  colonel  serving  in 
Germany,  was  recalled  to  take  com- 
mand of  the  land  force  with  the  rank 
of  General,  and  under  him  went  three 
brigadiers— Lawrence,  whom  we  have 
met  before  in  Nova  Scotia;  Whitmore, 
of  whom  little  was  known,  and  lastly, 
in  a  good  hour,  James  Wolfe. 

As  Wolfe's  name  is  the  most  lumin- 
ous by  far  in  the  annals  of  the  war,  a 
few  words  on  the  previous  record  of 
this  illustrious  young  soldier  will  not 
be  amiss.  He  was  of  that  Anglo- 
Irish  stock  which  has  given  to  the  na- 
tion so  many  leaders,  though  his  par- 
ticular branch  of  the  family  had  been 
back  in  England  again  for  two  or  three 
generations  when  the  hero  himself  was 
born.  His  father  was  a  general  in  the 
army,  who  in  youth  had  seen  service 
under  Marlborough,  and  in  advanced 
middle  age,  after  Walpole's  long 
peace,  took  the  field  again  in  South 
America  and  Scotland.*  His  mother 
was  a  Miss  Thompson,  daughter  of  a 
Yorkshire  squire.  The  Wolfes  had 
just  taken  a  small  but  picturesque 
Tudor  house  which  still  stands  in  the 
outskirts  of  the  little  Kentish  town  of 
Westerham,  where  their  eldest  son, 
James,  was  born.  There  he  and  his 
brother,  who  died  in  his  first  campaign, 
spent  their  early  youth.  In  the  gar- 
dens of  Squerryes  Court,  close  by,  an 
inscribed  cenotaph  marks  the  spot 
where  the  hero  of  the  Plains  of  Abra- 
ham received  the  envelope  containing 
his  first  commission  while  playing  with 
his  friends  the  Wardes,  whose  de- 
scendants still  live  there,  and  in  the 
stately  Queen  Anne  mansion  are  still 
treasured  those  hundred  and  seventy 
or  so  well  written   and  characteristic 

*Wolfe's  father  went  north  with  Wade  in 
the  '45  as  a  General  of  Division,  though  very 
infirm  and  takings  little  part  in  the  operations. 


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o 


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THE  FIGHT  FOR  NORTH  AMERICA 


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letters  in  which  the  young  soldier  un- 
consciously tells  the  story  of  his  life. 

There  is  an  old  Welsh  legend  relat- 
ing how  Owen  Glyndwr,  while  still  a 
bahe  in  arms,  if  he  caught  sight  of  a 
sword  or  a  spear,  gave  those  in  charge 
of  him  no  peace  till  it  was  placed  in 
his  infant  fingers.  Wolfe,  not  in  leg- 
endary lore,  but  in  actual  deed,  was 
only  less  precocious  in  his  martial  ar- 
dour; for  when  his  father,  then  com- 
manding a  regiment  of  marines,  was 
waiting  in  camp  to  embark  on  the 
luckless  expedition  against  Cartha- 
gena,  the  boy — then  just  thirteen — 
brushing  aside  his  mother*s  tears  and 
entreaties,  and  overcoming  his  father's 
less  pronounced  objections,  actually 
succeeded  in  getting  himself  attached 
to  the  regiment  as  a  volunteer.  Hap- 
pily they  were  not  yet  on  board  when 
he  was  seized  with  some  childish  mal- 
ady and  sent  home  again,  and  put  to 
school. 

At  fifteen,  however,  Wolfe  actually 
received  his  commission,  and  joined 
Duroure's,  or  the  12th  regiment  of 
foot.  At  sixteen  he  fought  in  the  bat- 
tle of  Dettingen,  acting  as  adjutant 
throughout  the  whole  of  that  sanguin- 
ary day,  which  his  boyish  pen  has 
graphically  described.  Proud  of  his 
profession  and  of  his  country,  fearless 
in  battle  and  ardent  in  his  duties,  he 
got  plenty  of  the  work  that  was  in 
those  days  crowded  on  a  willing  horse. 
At  the  breaking  out  of  the  Jacobite 
rebellion  of  '45,  though  barely  nine- 
teen, he  had  won  his  way,  without 
backing  or  interest,  to  be  brigade- 
major.  He  fought  through  this  cam- 
paign in  Barrel's  regiment  (the  4th 
foot),  and  afterwards  on  the  Continent, 
where  he  was  wounded  at  Lauffeldt. 
He  then  had  some  ten  years  of  home 
service  in  command  of  the  20th  regi- 
ment, partly  in  Scotland  doing  police 
work  among  disaffected  Highlanders, 
and  partly  in  southern  garrisons,  chaf- 
ing vehemently  the  while  at  such  en- 
forced inactivity.  In  such  times,  how- 
ever, he  never  lost  an  opportunity  of 
improving  himself,  studying  mathema- 
tics and  classics,  as  well  as  military 
history.     He  fished  and  shot  when  the 


chance  offered  with  equal  ardour.  He 
was  fond  of  society,  both  grave  and 
gay,  was  a  graceful  and  industrious 
dancer,  and  expected  his  subalterns  to 
be  the  latter  at  any  rate.  All  Wolfe 
could  do  in  the  years  of  peace  between 
the  two  wars  he  did  ^o  in  the  path  of 
professional  duty,  for  he  left  his  regi- 
ment the  best  disciplined  of  any  in  the 
British  army,  and  one  much  sought 
after  by  ambitious  youths  and  prudent 
parents.  He  was  a  singular  blend  of 
the  dashing  fighter,  the  strict  discip- 
linarian, the  ardent  student,  the  keen 
sportsman,  and  society  man.  He  was 
religious  without  ostentation,  studious 
without  any  taint  of  the  prig,  and  brave 
even  to  recklessness. 

The  long,  gaunt  figure,  the  pale, 
homely  face  and  red  hair,  of  which 
Wolfe  himself  was  always  so  humor- 
ously conscious,  are  a  familiar  memory 
to  most  people,  while  his  wretched 
health  is  also  a  matter  of  common  no- 
toriety. He  loved  as  ardently  and  as 
faithfully  as  he  fought,  for  being  un- 
successful in  his  first  attachment — a 
daughter  of  the  Sir  Wilfrid  Lawson  of 
that  day  being  the  object  of  it — he  re- 
mained for  years  true  to  her  memory, 
and  proof  against  all  other  charmers 
till  within  a  few  months  of  his  death. 
What  kind  of  a  son  he  was  his  corre- 
spondence shows.  Almost  the  only 
thing  he  would  not  do  for  his  mother 
was  to  marry  any  of  the  heiresses  that 
excellent  lady  was  in  the  habit  of 
pressing  upon  his  notice.  In  1757  he 
had  been  sent  as  fourth  'in  command  of 
the  luckless  expedition  against  Ro- 
chelle,  led  by  Sir  John  Mordaunt,  and 
was  the  only  man  that  came  out  of  it 
with  any  credit.  Even  this  consisted 
only  of  intentions  which  the  supine- 
ness  of  his  chief  forbade  him  to  carry 
out;  and  that  so  slight  an  incident 
caught  Pitt's  attention  is  characteristic 
of  his  genius.  Wolfe's  professional 
ardour  in  those  dull  times,  together 
with  his  rather  uncommon  tempera- 
ment, made  him  regarded  in  some 
quarters  as  eccentric.  Some  one  told 
George  II  he  was  mad.  ''Mad,  is 
he  ?"  snarled  out  the  old  king,  soured 
by  the  recent  displays  of  British  strat- 


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egy.  **Then  I  only  hope  he'll  bite 
some  of  my  generals." 

But  Pitt's  first  care  this  year  was  to 
prevent,  if  possible,  any  men  or  pro- 
visions from  crossing  the  ocean  for  the 
relief  of  Canada.  Armaments  for  this 
purpose  were  known  to  be  preparing 
in  Rochefort  and  Toulon,  so  Hawke 
and  Osborn  were  sent  with  sufficient 
ships  to  effectually  thwart  both  enter- 
prises. As  a  big  fish  chases  a  shoal 
of  frightened  fry  on  to  the  shallows,  so 
Hawke  drove  the  French  fleet  at  Roche- 
fort  helter-skelter  on  to  their  own 
rocks  and  sandbanks,  to  their  very 
great  detriment,  while  Osborn  guarded 
the  Straits  at  Gibraltar,  a  position 
which  the  armament  at  Toulon  did  not 
venture  to  dispute. 

Boscawen,  who  was  to  command  the 
North  American  fleet  and  take  Am- 
herst's army  to  Louisbourg,  was  a  son 
of  Lord  Falmouth  and  a  grandson  of 
that  too-famous  Arabella  Churchill, 
who  had  married  after  her  relationship 
with  James  II  had  ceased.  He  was 
therefore  of  the  Marlborough  blood; 
but  Bosca wen's  nicknames  of  "  Old 
Dreadnought"  and  **  Wry  necked  Dick" 
suggest  rather  the  bluff  seadog  of  the 
period  than  any  flavour  of  coronets 
and  courts.  In  any  case  he  was  known 
as  a  good  sailor  and,  what  at  this  mo- 
ment was  equally  important,  might  be 
trusted  to  act  cordially  with  Amherst, 
and  not  follow  the  too-prevalent  fash- 
ion of  thwarting  the  soldier  because 
he  himself  was  of  the  rival  trade.  For 
there  was  not  much  love  lost  in  those 
days  between  the  services,  and  they 
were  both  apt  to  show  their  feelings 
only  too  plainly  for  the  public  welfare 
when  called  upon  to  act  together.  The 
sailor,  from  the  nature  of  his  services 
on  these  occasions,  was  the  greater 
sinner,  and  national  enterprise,  strange 
though  it  seems  now,  had  suffered 
often  and  sorely  from  the  friction.  The 
naval  officer  of  those  days,  as  every- 
body knows,  was,  with  some  excep- 
tions, a  rough  diamond.  Taken  as  a 
class,  he  was  not  the  social  equal  of 
the  soldier,  and  this  in  part,  no  doubt, 
accounted  for  his  unconciliatory  atti- 
tude.    But  a  change,  both  in  the  per- 


sonnel  and  the  sentiment  of  the  navy, 
was  now  creeping  in,  and  Boscawen 
amply  proved  his  capacity  for  putting 
professional  prejudice  aside  when  the 
honour  of  his  country  was  at  stake. 

It  was  the  19th  of  February,  1758, 
when  the  Admiral  sailed  out  of  the 
Solent  with  Wolfe  on  board  and  a 
fraction  of  the  army  which  was  to  op- 
erate against  Louisbourg.  The  rest 
of  the  force  was  to  be  made  up  by 
troops  from  Loudon's  army  of  the  pre- 
vious year,  which  was  waiting  at  Hali- 
fax. Amherst  Was  to  follow  immedi- 
ately. Buffeted  by  winds  from  the 
very  outset,  and  forced  for  some  days 
into  Plymouth,  it  was  nearly  three 
months  before  the  fleet  appeared  in 
Chebucto  Bay  and  dropped  anchor  in 
Halifax  harbour  on  May  loth.  Que- 
bec, of  course,  was  in  the  mind  of  Pitt 
and  of  his  generals,  should  fortune 
favour  them,  and  that  quickly,  at 
Louisbourg;  but  in  the  matter  of 
weather  she  had  so  far  been  the  re- 
verse of  kind,  and  they  had  already 
lost  a  month  out  of  their  quite  reason- 
able calculations.  Amherst  arrived  a 
fortnight  later,  and  with  a  fleet  of 
nearly  200  ships  of  ail  kinds,  and  an 
army  of  12,000  men,  sailed  out  of 
Halifax  harbour  and  bore  away  through 
heavy  seas  before  a  favouring  wind  to 
Louisbourg.  .  On  June  ist  the  soldiers 
had  their  first  sight  of  *'the  Dunkirk 
of  the  North,"  lifting  its  formidable 
ramparts  behind  a  white  fringe  of  rag- 
ing surf. 

Louisbourg,  as  may  perhaps  have 
been  already  gathered,  was  no  town 
such  as  Boston  or  New  York,  or  even 
Quebec  and  Montreal,  the  focus,  that 
is  to  say,  of  a  surrounding  civilization; 
but,  on  the  contrary,  it  stood  like  a 
lone  oasis  between  a  shaggy  wilder- 
ness and  a  grey  sea,  the  sport  of  storms 
and  fogs.  It  counted  a  population  of 
4,000  souls,  some  of  whom  were  fish- 
merchants  and  some  priests,  but  many 
were  engaged  in  various  pursuits  con- 
nected with  the  trade  of  war.  Louis- 
bourg, indeed,  scarcely  professed  to 
represent  the  interests  of  peace;  it  ex- 
isted for  war  and  for  war  alone. 
France,  at  the  late  treaty,  had  strained 


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THE  FIGHT  FOR  NORTH  AMERICA 


245 


Siege  oF 
LOUISBOURG 


1758 


MAP  SHOWING  THE  CHIEF  POINTS  IN  CONNECTION  WITH  THE  GREAT  SUCCESSFUL  SIEGE  OF 
LOUISBOURG  BY  THE  BRITISH  IN  JUNE  AND  JULY,    1 758 


every  diplomatic  nerve  to  recover  the 
town  from  the  grip  of  the  New  Eng- 
laDders,  who  in  the  last  war,  with  the 
help  of  a  British  fleet,  had  seized  her 
in  a  moment  of  comparative  weakness. 
England,  deaf  to  the  cries  of  her  col- 
onial subjects,  had  then  yielded,  and 
was  now  paying  the  price  of  her  blind- 
ness. With  her  fine  harbour,  her  nat- 
ural defences,  her  commanding  situa- 
tion in  the  northern  seas,  Louisbourg 
only  existed  as  a  menace  to  the  enemies 
of  those  who  held  her,  a  refuge  to  the 
hunted,  a  rallying-point  for  the  hunt- 
ers of  the  ocean;  the  scourge  of  Nova 
Scotia,  the  curse  of  the  Newfoundland 
and  New  England  coasts,  and  a  name 
as  familiar  then  in  Europe  as  it  is  now 
forgotten.  Since  its  restoration  to 
France,  a  million  sterling  had  been 
spent  on  the  fortifications.  Franquet, 
the  eminent  engineer,  assisted  by 
skilled  artificers,  had  done  the  work, 
and  from  behind  its  two-mile  circle  of 
stone  bastions  and  massive  curtains  of 
well-mortared  masonry  nearly  400  can- 


non frowned  defiance  upon  all  comers. 
Drucour  was  now  governor,  while 
about  4,000  men,  mostly  French  or 
Canadian  regulars,  in  addition  to  the 
same  number  of  inhabitants,  with  a 
year's  provisions,  awaited  Amherst  be- 
hind the  walls.  But  this  was  by  no 
means  all,  for  the  Sutherland^  of  sixty 
guns,  met  the  British  fleet  in  the  offing 
with  the  news  that  seven  line-of-battle 
ships  and  five  frigates,  carrying  550 
guns  and  3,000  sailors,  were  at  anchor 
in  the  harbour  to  assist  in  the  defence. 
Louisbourg  harbour  was  some  seven 
miles  in  circumference  with  an  entry  so 
blocked  with  reefs  and  islands  that  the 
actual  passage  was  not  half  a  mile  in 
width.  The  town  occupied  the  point 
of  the  promontory  which  guarded  the 
western  mouth  of  the  harbour,  and 
formed  a  triangle;  one  side  being  lash- 
ed by  the  breakers  of  the  Atlantic,  the 
other  washed  by  the  land-locked  waters 
of  the  harbour,  while  the  third,  or  base, 
facing  the  only  approach  by  land,  was 
the  most  strongly  fortified.     Goat  Is- 


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land,  in  the  centre  of  the  harbour 
mouth,  commanded  the  eastern  or 
navigable  channel,  and  carried  a  bat- 
tery. But  these,  after  all,  formed  only 
a  portion  of  the  strength  of  Louis- 
bourg.  For  several  miles  to  the  west, 
the  only  side  from  which  a  force  could 
to  any  practical  purpose  be  landed  by 
sea,  the  shores  of  the  bay  of  Gabarus 
presented  an  iron  barrier  of  cliffs  and 
reefs,  only  broken  here  and  there  by 
narrow  coves  that  could  be  readily  de- 
fended. A  first  line  of  defence  there- 
fore existed,  formidable  in  itself  to  any 
but  the  boldest  foe,  before  a  single 
shell  could  be  dropped  over  the  walls 
of  the  town.  Each  of  these  points  had 
now  been  strongly  intrenched,  mount- 
ed with  batteries,  provided  with  pits 
for  riflemen,  and  protected  by  the 
formidable  and  familiar  American 
method  of  felled  trees  laid  with  their 
branches  outward. 

Amherst's  army  consisted  of  about 
12,000  men,  made  up  of  the  following 
corps:  The  15th  (Amherst's),  17th 
(Forbes'),  28th  (Bragg's),  35th  (Ot- 
way's),  40th  (Hopson's),  47th  (Lascel- 
les'),  48th  (Webb's),  58th  (Anstruth- 
er's),  the  first  and  second  battalions  of 
the  60th  or  Royal  Americans,  and  the 
63rd  (Fraser's  Highlanders);  there 
were  also  five  companies  of  rangers 
and  artillery,  with  about  140  guns  of 
varying  calibre.  The  Highland  regi- 
ments had  been  recently  raised  by  Pitt, 
to  whom  belongs  the  honour  of  con- 
verting the  late  enemies  of  the  British 
Government  into  battalions  that  were 
to  prove  one  of  the  most  formidable  of 
its  weapons.  The  Royal  Americans, 
too,  whose  acquaintance  we  have  al- 
ready made,  were  the  origin  of  bat- 
talions no  less  famous  in  British  an- 
nals. Most  people,  I  fancy,  would  be 
surprised  to  hear  that  the  6oth  Rifles 
was  first  raised  in  America,  and  con- 
sisted not  merely  of  colonists,  but  very 
largely  of  German  colonists;  so  much 
so,  indeed,  that  it  was  found  advisable 
to  procure  a  number  of  officers  from 
Switzerland  and  Germany  who  could 
speak  their  language.  Their  chief. 
Colonel  Bouquet,  was  a  Swiss,  an  ex- 
tremely able  and  accomplished  officer, 


who  was  now  in  Pennsylvania  with 
Forbes,  and  of  whom  we  shall  hear 
later.  He  has  moreover  left  a  journal 
of  his  doings  in  America  which  is  well 
worthy  of  perusal. 

Boscawen  had  twenty-three  ships  of 
the  line  and  seventeen  frigates,  and  it 
was  the  2nd  of  June  before  his  whole 
fleet  arrived  off  the  town.  A  heavy 
sea  was  running,  and  the  rugged  shore 
was  white  with  an  unbroken  line  of 
raging  surf.  Amherst,  however,  with 
Lawrence  and  Wolfe,  the  latter  still 
suffering  sorely  from  his  dire  enemy, 
seasickness,  took  boat,  and  rowing 
along  the  coast,  surveyed  it  through 
their  glasses.  There  were  only  three 
places  at  which  a  landing  was  possible, 
even  when  the  weather  moderated,  and 
these,  it  was  seen,  were  all  strongly  in- 
trenched. On  the  5th  the  wind  dropped 
a  little  but  gave  way  to  a  fog,, which  was 
even  worse.  On  the  6th  both  wind  and 
fog  moderated,  and  the  troops  were  pl^- 
ed  in  the  boats,  but  the  wind  again  in- 
creasing, they  were  ordered  back  to 
the  ships.  The  sailors,  with  all  the 
will  in  the  world,  thought  gravely  of 
any  attempt  to  land.  Boscawen  sent 
for  his  captains  one  by  one,  and  they 
were  all  inclined  to  shake  their  heads. 
A  fine  old  sea-dog,  however,  one  Fer- 
guson, captain  of  a  sixty-gun  ship,  the 
Prince^  would  have  no  halting,  and  by 
his  vehemence  turned  the  scale  in 
favour  of  prompt  action.  On  the  even- 
ing of  the  7th  the  wind  fell  slightly,  the 
night  proved  clear,  and  soon  after  mid- 
night the  men  were  once  more  dropped 
into  the  boats.  It  had  been  arranged 
that  the  attack  should  be  made  in  three 
divisions  on  three  separate  points. 
Lawrence  and  Whitmore  were  to 
threaten  the  two  coves  nearer  the 
town,  while  Wolfe  made  the  actual  at- 
tack on  Kennington  Cove  or  Le  Coro- 
mandiere,  the  farthest  off,  the  most 
accessible,  but  also  the  most  strongly 
defended,  and  some  four  miles  distant 
from  the  city. 

When  morning  broke  upon  the  short 
summer  night,  all  was  ready  for  a 
start,  and  at  sunrise  the  entire  fleet 
opened  such  a  furious  cannonade  as 
had  never  been  heard  even  in  those 


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dreary  regions  of  strife  and  tempest. 
Under  its  cover  the  boats  pushed  for 
the  shore,  Wolfe  and  his  division,  as 
the  chief  actors  in  the  scene,  making 
for  the  left,  where,  in  Kennington 
Cove,  some  twelve  hundred  French 
soldiers,  with  a  strong  battery  of  guns, 
lay  securely  intrenched  just  above  the 
shore  line  and  behind  an  abattis  of 
fallen  trees.  As  Wolfe's  boats,  rising 
and  falling  on  the  great  Atlantic  roll- 
ers, drew  near  the  rocks,  the  thunder 
of  Boscawen*s  guns  ceased,  and,  the 
French  upon  shore  still  reserving  their 
fire  for  closer  quarters,  there  was  for 
some  time  an  ominous  silence,  broken 
only  by  the  booming  of  the  surf  as  it 
leapt  up  the  cliffs  or  spouted  in  white 
columns  above  the  sunken  rocks. 
Heading  for  the  narrow  beach,  the 
leading  boats  were  within  a  hundred 
yards  -of  it  when  the  French  batteries 
opened  on  them  with  a  fierce  hail  of 
ball  and  round  shot.  Nothing  but  the 
heaving  of  the  sea,  say  those  who 
were  there,  could  have  saved  them. 
Wolfe's  flagstaff  was  shot  away,  and 
even  that  ardent  soul  shrank  from 
leading  his  men  further  into  such  a 
murderous  fire.  He  was  just  signalling 
to  his  flotilla  to  sheer  off,  when  three 
boats  on  the  flank,  either  unaware  of 
or  refusing  to  see  the  signal,  were  ob- 
served dashing  for  a  rocky  ledge  at  the 
corner  of  the  cove.  They  were  com- 
manded by  two  lieutenants,  Hopkins 
and  Brown,  and  an  ensign,  Grant. 
These  young  gentlemen  had  caught 
sight  of  a  possible  landing-place  at  a 
spot  protected  by  an  angle  of  the  cliff 
from  the  French  batteries.  Without 
waiting  for  orders,  they  sent  their 
boats  through  the  surf,  and  with  little 
damage  succeeded  in  landing  on  the 
slippery  rocks  and  scrambling  to  tem- 
porary shelter  from  the  French  fire. 

Wolfe,  at  once  a  disciplinarian  and  a 
creature  of  impulse,  did  not  stand  on 
ceremony.  Feeling,  no  doubt,  that  he 
would  himself  have  acted  in  precisely 
the  same  fashion  as  his  gallant  sub- 
alterns under  like  conditions,  he  signal- 
led to  the  rest  to  follow  their  lead,  set- 
ting the  example  himself  with  his  own 
boat.     The  movement  was  successful, 


though  not  without  much  loss  both  in 
boats  and  men.  The  surf  was  strong 
and  the  rocks  were  sharp;  many  boats 
were  smashed  to  pieces,  many  men 
were  drowned,  but  the  loss  was  not 
comparable  to  the  advantage  gained. 
Wolfe  himself,  cane  in  hand,  was  one 
of  the  first  to  leap  into  the  surf.  These 
were  not  the  men  of  Oswego,  of  Lake 
George,  of  the  Monongahela,  of  the 
Virginia  frontier.  The  spirit  of  Pitt 
was  already  abroad,  borne  by  the  very 
breakers  on  these  wild  Acadian  shores, 
and  burning  in  the  hearts  of  these 
fierce  islanders,  who,  like  their  Norse 
ancestors  of  old,  came  out  of  the  very 
surf  to  wrest  dominion  from  their  an- 
cient foe.  As  the  troops  came  strag- 
gling out  upon  the  beach,  full  of 
ardour,  soaked  to  the  skin,  and  many 
of  them  badly  bruised,  Wolfe  formed 
them  rapidly  in  column,  routed  a  de- 
tachment of  Grenadiers,  and  fell  im- 
mediately with  the  bayonet  upon  the 
French  redoubts.  The  enemy,  though 
picked  and  courageous  troops,  were 
taken  aback  and  fled  without  much 
resistance.  They  had  seen  Amherst, 
too,  with  reinforcements,  coming  up 
behind  Wolfe,  and  above  all  had  noted 
the  flotillas  of  Whitmore  and  Lawrence 
between  them  and  the  city,  and  were 
fearful  of  being  cut  off  should  these  last 
effect  a  landing.  The  French  were 
pursued  over  the  rocks  and  through 
the  scrubby  pine-woods  till  the  pursu- 
ers came  within  play  of  the  guns  of 
Louisbourg,  which  opened  a  heavy  fire 
to  cover  the  retreat.  Over  a  hundred 
were  killed  or  taken  prisoners,  while 
the  loss  of  the  British  in  landing  was 
not  much  less. 

Amherst  now  traced  the  lines  of  his 
camp  along  a  shallow  valley,  watered 
by  a  small  stream,  which  was  not  only 
out  of  range  of  the  Louisbourg  guns, 
but  invfsible  from  the  walls.  Here  he 
proceeded  to  intrench  himself,  erecting 
blockhouses  at  extremities  where  an 
attack  might  be  expected  from  Aca- 
dians  and  Micmac  Indians,  with  which 
the  wilderness  beyond  was  thought  to 
swarm.  The  sea,  however,  remained 
so  rough  that  it  was  some  days  before 
the  troops  could  get  their  tents,  stores 


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and  lighter  guns  on  shore.  It  was  not 
till  about  the  17th,  when  the  weather 
moderated,  that  the  siege  guns  could 
be  brought  from  the  fleet.  Both 
services  worked  with  a  will,  but  their 
difficulties  may  be  estimated  from  the 
fact  that  over  a  hundred  boats  were 
destroyed  in  the  operation. 

The  French  now  drew  all  their  men 
within  the  fortifications.  A  large  bat- 
tery of  thirty  guns  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  harbour,  with  houses  and  fish 
stages,  was  destroyed  by  the  garrison 
on  the  night  of  the  British  landing,  and 
a  great  conflagration  reddened  both 
sky  and  sea.  The  guns  were  spiked, 
as  were  those  of  a  smaller  battery  at 
the  eastern  point  of  the  harbour^s 
mouth.  Wolfe  had  a  large  corps  of 
light  infantry,  picked  for  their  marks- 
manship from  various  regiments,  and 
trained,  so  far  as  a  week  or  two  at 
Halifax  could  train  them,  in  tactics 
that  became  familiar  enough  later  on, 
but  were  regarded  at  the  time  as  quite 
a  strange  innovation  on  the  part  of  the 
vigorous  and  eccentric  brigadier.  It 
was  merely  a  matter  of  advancing  in 
loose  formation,  and  using  all  the  in- 
equalities of  the  ground  for  protection, 
coupled  with  a  light  and  easy  costume 
for  the  men,  namely  a  short  jacket, 
small  round  hat,  and  a  kind  of  light 
woollen  trouser,  cut  moderately  tight. 
A  story  goes  that  an  officer  who  was 
regarded  as  somewhat  learned  among 
his  fellows  remarked  to  Wolfe  that 
his  new  corps  reminded  him  of  the 
HapSovxoi  alluded  to  by  Xenophon. 
"That  is  exactly  where  I  got  the  idea," 
replied  Wolfe;  ''only  these  people 
never  read  anything,  and  consequently 
believe  the  idea  to  be  a  novel  one." 

Amherst's  first  move  was  to  send 
Wolfe  with  his  light  infantry  on  a 
long,  rough  march  of  seven  or  eight 
miles  around  the  harbour  to  erect 
some  batteries  upon  the  farther  shore, 
the  necessary  guns  being  despatched 
by  water.  In  this  business,  notwith- 
standing the  scantiness  of  soil  and  the 
absence  of  suitable  timber,  he  was  so 
alert  that  by  the  26th  he  had  not  only 
mounted  his  chief  battery  at  Light- 
house Point,  but   had    intrenched   all 


his  men  in  safety  from  the  Are  of  the 
town  and  fleet,  which  had  been  fierce 
and  continuous,  and  furthermore  had 
effectually  silenced  the  formidable 
French  battery  on  Goat  Island  in  the 
middle  of  the  harbour  entrance. 

There  was  nothing  now  to  prevent 
Boscawen,  if  he  so  chose,  from  sailing 
in  with  his  whole  fleet,  so  the  French 
admiral,  Desgouttes,  rather  than  lose 
all  his  ships,  prudently  sunk  four  of 
them  by  night  in  the  channel  to  pro- 
tect the  rest.  Wolfe,  in  the  mean- 
time, had  been  writing  cheery  letters 
to  Amherst,  telling  him  of  bis  progress, 
and  greatly  jubilant  that  the  French 
fleet  were  now  *  *  in  a  confounded 
scrape."  This  was  precisely  what  the 
French  admiral  and  his  officers  had 
been  thinking  for  some  time,  and 
Desgouttes  had  urged  on  the  Governor 
the  desirability  of  getting  his  ships  off 
while  there  was  yet  time.  Drucour, 
however,  thought  differently,  as  he 
wanted  the  ships  and  the  sailors  to 
prolong  the  defence,  and  so  prevent 
the  besieging  army  from  either  pro- 
ceeding to  Quebec  that  season,  or 
from  helping  Abercromby  against 
Montcalm  at  Lake  George.  For  a 
fortnight  an  artillery  Are  had  been 
steadily  proceeding  upon  the  harbour 
side,  while  to  the  westward,  where  the 
serious  attack  was  contemplated,  Am- 
herst's dispositions  were  not  quite 
ready,  the  engineering  difficulties  being 
considerable.  Wolfe,  having  done  his 
work,  now  hurried  back  to  the  main 
lines,  which  were  henceforward  to  be 
the  chief  scene  of  action. 

An  extensive  marsh  stretched  away 
from  the  walls  of  Louisbourg  on  the 
landward  side.  Beyond  this  rolled  the 
^^%g^^i  broken  ground  in  which  the 
British  intrenchments  lay.  On  each 
side  of  the  marsh,  however,  rocky 
knolls  extended  up  close  to  the  de- 
fences of  the  town.  It  was  along  these 
horns,  as  it  were,  that  Amherst  had  to 
push  his  batteries  under  a  heavy  fire. 
With  rocky  hillocks  and  swampy  flats 
to  approach  over,  Amherst's  task  was 
no  easy  one  ;  but  he  was  distinguished 
for  patience  and  thoroughness.  What 
he  lacked  in  dash,  Wolfe,  who  by  the 


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27th  was  back  at  his  side,  most  amply 
supplied.  Thousands  of  men  toiled 
night  and  day,  while  a  hundred  big 
guns  roared  with  tireless  throats  from 
the  massive  works  of  masonry  on  the 
west  of  the  town,  and  poured  shot  and 
shell  upon  the  British  working  parties 
as  they  crept  gradually  nearer.  But 
the  pick,  the  shovel,  and  the  axe 
proved  as  efficient  in  defence  under 
the  skilful  eyes  of  those  who  directed 
them  as  they  were  to  prove  formidable 
in  advance,  and  no  serious  loss  was 
suffered.  A  French  frigate,  the  Are^ 
thuse^  bravely  manned  and  commanded, 
was  stationed  in  a  western  angle  of  the 
harbour,  where  the  northern  wing  of 
the  approaching  invaders  could  be 
reached,  and  proved  herself  extremely 
troublesome.  She  stood  in  her  turn  a 
vast  deal  of  cannonading,  till  at  last 
she  was  brought  off,  her  shot  holes 
plugged,  and  running  the  gauntlet  of 
the  British  fleet  in  a  fog,  she  bore 
safely  away,  and  carried  the  news  of 
the  sore  plight  of  Louisbourg  across 
the  Atlantic. 

On  both  the  right  and  left  the 
English  batteries  were  now  pushed 
forward  to  within  half  a  mile  of  the 
town,  and,  with  Wolfe  on  one  side 
and  Lawrence  on  the  other,  began 
their  deadly  work.  Two  hundred  big 
guns  and  mortars,  plied  upon  both 
sides  by  skilled  gunners,  shook  that 
desolate  coast  with  such  an  uproar  as 
no  part  orNorth  America  since  its  first 
discovery  had  ever  felt.  Twenty 
thousand  disciplined  troops,  soldiers 
and  sailors,  led  by  skilful  and  energetic 
commanders,  made  a  warlike  tableau, 
the  like  of  which  had  never  yet  been 
seen,  with  all  the  blood  that  had  been 
spilled  between  the  Mississippi  and 
the  St.  Lawrence,  while  infinite  valour 
animated  both  sides.  On  July  6th,  a 
sortie  was  made  upon  the  advanced 
trenches  on  the  British  left  which  was 
easily  repulsed.  Three  days  after- 
wards a  much  more  serious  effort  was 
pressed  by  a  thousand  men,  stimulated 
by  brandy,  the  English  accounts  say, 
upon  the  right.  The  British  Grena- 
diers w«re  forced  back  out  of  the 
trenches,  fighting  desperately  with  the 


bayonet  in  the  dark.  Wolfe  was  here, 
revelling  in  the  bloody  milee^  and  the 
enemy  was  ultimately  driven  back 
into  the  town. 

At  this  time,  too,  the  long- threatened 
attack  of  Acadians  and  Indians,  out  of 
the  wilderness  on  the  left  flank,  was 
delivered.  They  were  commanded  by 
Boisherbert,  a  partisan  leader  of  note, 
but  were  easily  repulsed,  and  gave 
little  further  trouble. 

On  July  i6th,  Wolfe  made  a  rush 
forward  and  fortified  a  small  hill, 
locally  famous  as  the  spot  where 
Lpuisbourg  malefactors  were  executed. 
It  was  only  three  hundred  yards  from 
the  ramparts  of  the  town,  and  the 
artillery  fire  now  waxed  terrific. 

On  both  wings,  indeed,  the  British 
advance  was  pushed  so  close  that  gun 
after  gun  was  dismounted  on  the 
Louisbourg  ramparts,  and  the  masonry 
itself  began  to  crack  and  crumble  in 
all  directions,  while  British  soldiers 
were  pressing  forward  to  the  very  foot 
of  the  glacis,  and  firing  upon  the  cov- 
ered way.  On  the  21st,  one  of  the 
French  ships  in  the  harbour,  the 
CiUbrey  was  ignited  by  a  bomb,  and 
the  fiames  spread  to  two  others.  The 
British  batteries  on  the  extreme  left 
commanded  the  scene,  and  rained  such 
a  hail  of  balls  upon  the  flaming  decks 
that  the  ships  could  not  be  saved,  and 
all  three  were  burnt  to  the  water's 
edge.  Shells,  round  shot  and  bombs  « 
were  now  falling  in  every  part  of 
the  devoted  town.  Nearly  all  the 
sailors  of  the  fleet  were  with  the  gar- 
rison, and  all  the  townsmen  who  could 
bear  arms  helped  to  man  the  defences. 

There  had  been  a  little  earlier  some 
friendly  amenities  between  besiegers 
and  besieged.  Amherst  had  sent  some 
West  India  pineapples  to  Madame 
Drucour,  whom  an  uncertain  French 
authority,  that  one  would  like  to  be- 
lieve, declares  took  a  personal  part  in 
the  defence.  Madame  sent  back  a 
basket  of  wine,  while  Drucour  himself 
offered  the  services  of  an  exceptionally 
skilful  physician  to  any  of  the  wounded 
British  officers  who  cared  to  avail 
themselves  of  them.  But  matters  had 
got  too  serious  now  for  such  courte- 


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sies.  On  the  22nd  the  chief  house  of 
the  citadel,  where  the  Governor  and 
other  officials  were  living,  was  almost 
wholly  destroyed  by  fire.  A  thousand 
of  the  garrison  were  sick  or  wounded, 
and  were  cowering  in  wretchedness 
and  misery  in  the  few  sheltered  spots 
and  casements  that  remained. 

The  soldiers  had  no  refuge  whatever 
from  the  shot  and  shell.  Night  and 
day — for  there  was  a  bright  moon — 
the  pitiless  rain  of  iron  fell  upon  the 
town,  which,  being  built  mostly  of 
wood,  was  continually  igniting  and 
demanding  the  incessant  labours  of  a 
garrison  weakened  and  worn  out  by 
the  necessity  of  sleepless  vigilance. 
The  gallantry  of  the  defence  equalled 
the  vigour  of  the  attack,  and  was  all 
the  more  praiseworthy  seeing  how 
hopeless  it  had  become.  Only  two 
ships  of  war  were  left  in  the  harbour, 
and  the  British  bluejackets,  who  had 
been  spectators  of  the  siege,  now 
thought  they  saw  a  chance  of  earning 
some  distinction  for  their  branch  of 
the  service.  So  five  hundred  sailors, 
in  boats,  running  the  gauntlet  of  the 
fire  from  the  town  upon  the  harbour 
side,  dashed  in  upon  the  Le  Bienfaisant 
and  Le  Prudent ^  overpowered  their 
feeble  crews,  burnt  the  latter  ship,  and 
towed  the  other  one  into  a  corner  of 
the  harbour  secured  by  British  batter- 
ies. The  harbour  was  now  cleared  of 
French  shipping.  Another  great  fire 
had  just  occurred  in  the  town,  destroy- 
ing the  barracks  that  had  been  an  im- 
portant point  of  shelter.  The  bastions 
on  the  land  side  were  rapidly  crumb- 
ling. On  the  26th  less  than  half  a 
dozen  guns  were  feebly  replying  to 
the  uproar  of  107  heavy  pieces  firing 
at  close  range  from  the  British  bat- 
teries, and  more  than  one  big  breach 
in  the  walls  warned  the  exhausted 
garrison  of  the  imminence  of  an 
assault. 

A  council  of  war  was  now  called,  and 
the  vote  was  unanimous  that  a  white 
flag  should  be  sent  to  Amherst  with  a 
request  for  terms.  This  was  done, 
but  when  Amherst's  answer  came  the 
opinion  was  equally  unanimous  against 
accepting  what  he  offered,  which  was 


unconditional  surrender  within  an  hour. 
The  officer  was  sent  back  again  to  urge 
a  modification  of  such  hard  conditions, 
but  Amherst,  well  knowing  that  he 
had  Louisbourg  at  his  mercy,  refused 
even  to  see  the  envoy.  With  singular 
courage,  seeing  that  no  relief  was  pos- 
sible, the  French  officers  resolved  to 
bear  the  brunt  of  the  attack,  and 
Franquet,  the  engineer  who  had  con- 
structed the  fortifications,  with  de  la 
Houli^re,  the  commander  of  the  troops, 
proceeded  to  select  the  ground  for  a 
last  stand.  But  the  townspeople  had 
no  mind  to  offer  themselves  up  as  vic- 
tims to  an  infuriated  soldiery,  for  they 
remembered  Fort  William  Henry,  and 
dreaded  the  result.  The  Commissary- 
General  came  to  Drucour,  and  repre- 
sented that  whatever  might  be  the 
feelings  of  the  military  with  regard  to 
their  professional  honour,  it  was  not 
fair  to  subject  4,000  citizens,  who  had 
already  suffered  terribly,  to  the  hor- 
rors of  an  assault  upon  that  account 
alone.  He  pointed  out,  and  with  jus- 
tice, that  no  stain,  as  it  was,  could 
rest  on  the  garrison,  who  had  acquit- 
ted themselves  most  bravely  against  a 
numerous  and  formidable  foe,  and  his 
arguments  had  effect.  The  messen- 
ger, who  for  some  cause  or  other  had 
delayed  in  his  mission,  was  overtaken 
and  recalled,  and  Amherst's  terms 
accepted.  These  last  required  that 
all  the  garrison  should  be  delivered 
up  as  prisoners  of  war  and  transported 
to  England.  The  non-combatants 
were  at  liberty  to  return  to  France, 
and  the  sick  and  wounded,  numbering 
some  1,200,  were  to  be  looked  after 
by  Amherst.  All  Cape  Breton  and  the 
adjacent  island  of  Saint  Jean  (now  the 
fertile  province  of  Prince  Edward), 
with  any  small  garrisons  or  stores 
therein  contained,  were  to  be  given  up 
to  the  English. 

On  July  the  27th  the  French  troops 
were  drawn  up  on  parade  before  Whit- 
more,  and,  with  gestures  of  rage  and 
mortification,  laid  down  their  arms 
and  filed  gloomily  off  to  the  ships  that 
were  to  take  them  to  England;  5,637 
prisoners,  soldiers  and  sailors,  were 
included  in  the  surrender.     About  240 


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sound  pieces  of  cannon  and  mortars, 
with  a  large  amount  of  ammunition 
and  stores,  fell  into  the  hands  of  the 
victors.  The  French  fleet  in  attend- 
ance was  totally  destroyed,  and  French 
power  upon  the  North  Atlantic  coast 
ceased  to  exist. 

With  Halifax  so  near,  possessing, 
as  it  did,  an  even  better  harbour,  an 
already  firm  British  establishment  and 
a  good  tributary  country,  there  was 
evidently  no  need  for  such  a  place  as 
Louisbourg.  So  to  place  it  more  en- 
tirely out  of  the  reach  of  all  enemies, 
the  British  Government  decided  upon 
its  destruction.  Two  years  after  this, 
in  1760,  a  great  crowd  of  workmen, 
navvies  and  soldiers,  toiled  continu- 
ously for  six  months  at  the  task  of 
demolition,  and  the  busy,  famous  war- 
like town  was  in  this  strange  fashion 
wiped  out  of  existence.  Never  again 
could  a  short-sighted  English  Govern- 


ment, blind  to  its  greater  interests 
because  these  were  not  in  the  Mediter- 
ranean or  the  English  Channel,  rein- 
state by  treaty  a  French  garrison  in 
Cape  Breton.  To-day  a  collection  of 
fishermen's  huts  by  the  shore  is  nearly 
all  that  is  left  of  this  great  stronghold 
of  French  power  in  the  days  when  a 
mighty  colonial  future  lay  within  her 
grasp.  Short  by  comparison  as  is  the 
story  of  the  New  World,  he  would  be 
a  dull  soul  who  could  stand  unmoved 
by  that  deserted,  un visited,  surf- beaten 
shore,  where  you  may  still  trace  upon 
the  turf  the  dim  lines  of  once  busy 
streets,  and  mark  the  green  mounds 
which  hide  the  remains  of  the  great 
bastions  of  Louisbourg.  It  has  not 
been  given  in  modern  times  to  many 
centres  of  note  and  power  to  enjoy 
within  the  short  space  of  a  century  and 
a  half  at  once  such  world- wicte  fame 
and  such  profound  oblivion. 


TO    BE    CONTINUED 


STAR-BLANKET 


By  DUNCAN  CAMPBELL  SCOTT 


JRETTY-FACE  had  prom- 
ised to  behave  herself  once 
more.  But  this  time  she 
promised  in  a  different  way, 
and  her  husband,  Star- 
blaoket,  was  satisfied,  which  he  had 
not  always  been  before.  Star-blanket 
wanted  to  be  what  his  agent  called  "a 
g'ood  Indian."  He  wanted  to  have 
a  new  cooking  stove,  and  a  looking- 
g^lass.  He  already  had  cattle  on  loan, 
and  was  one  of  the  best  workers  in  the 
hay-fields.  But  it  was  disturbing  that 
he  should  so  often  come  back  from  his 
mrork  to  find  his  wife  talking  to  Bad- 
young*man,  who  never  did  a  stroke  of 
work,  who  ranged  off  the  reserve  into 
Montana  or  Kootenay,  scorning  per- 
mits, and  who  made  trouble  wherever 
he  came.     Pretty-face  would  promise 


solemnly  never  to  have  a  word  with 
Bad-young-man  again,  but  many  times 
had  she  broken  her  promise,  and  Star- 
blanket  would  return  to  meet  the  rover 
on  his  pony,  and  hear  his  impudent 
hail  as  he  passed  him  in  his  barbaric 
trappings,  his  hair  full  of  brass  pistol 
cartridges  and  the  tin  trademarks  from 
tobacco  plugs.  But  this  last  promise 
of  Pretty-face  was  in  something  differ- 
ent, and  Star-blanket  was  satisfied. 
So  satisfied  was  he  that  he  bought  for 
her  the  medicine-pole-bag,  which  made 
her,  without  any  question,  the  first 
lady  on  the  reserve. 

And  Pretty-face  kept  her  promise* 
It  was  true  that  Bad-young-man  was 
away,  no  one  knew  where;  but  Star- 
blanket  was  infinitely  satisfied  to  come 
home  and  find  her  looking  after  the 


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children,  or  preparing  his  supper  her- 
self, instead  of  leaving  it  to  her  moth- 
er, whose  cookery  his  soul  hated.  He 
took  a  great  satisfaction  now  in  the 
prospect  of  his  small  shanty  and  his 
larger  stable,  with  the  three  tepees 
grouped  around  them,  and  his  verdant 
garden  patches  fenced  to  keep  out  the 
cattle.  He  took  a  greater  pleasure  out 
of  his  wife's  social  position  than  she 
did,  and  viewed  the  medicine- pole-bag 
with  a  sort  of  awe.  With  an  infantine 
curiosity  he  wondered  what  were  the 
sacred  mysteries  of  the  ''Mow-to-kee" 
when  the  centre  pole  was  raised. 
Pretty-face  allowed  him  to  see  the  con- 
tents of  the  parfleche  bag,  which  had 
cost  him  so  many  good  dollars;  the 
snakeskin  head- band  into  which  the 
feathers  were  stuck;  the  little  sacks  of 
paint,  red  earth  and  grease;  the  shells 
in  which  the  paint  is  mixed;  the  sweet 
grass  to  burn  as  incense  during  prayer- 
making;  and  the  whistle  to  mark  the 
rhythm  for  dancing. 

More  and  more  evident  were  the  re- 
sults of  his  toil  and  his  obedience  to 
his  agent  and  his  instructor.  He  be- 
gan to  see  clearly  that  what  they  had 
told  him  was  truth.  He  could  trace 
every  dollar  of  the  twenty- five  he  had 
paid  for  the  medicine-pole-bag  to  some 
good  stroke  of  work  he  had  done  in 
the  hay-fields.  He  did  not  know  it, 
but  the  agent  had  asked  the  depart- 
ment for  lumber  to  build  him  a  new 
house,  and  his  chief  ambitions  were 
forming  solidly  in  the  future.  Verily, 
the  white  man's  ways  were  the  best. 

So  his  feeling  was  all  the  more  in- 
tense when  he  returned  home  one  even- 
ing in  October  and  found  that  Bad- 
young-man  had  been  there.  He  did 
not  see  him,  but  there  was  no  need  of 
such  crude  evidence.  There  was  no 
visible  trace  in  the  demeanour  of  Pretty- 
face  nor  in  the  bearing  of  the  mother- 
in-law.  His  wife  had  even  prepared 
his  favourite  dish  for  supper.  But  an- 
other date  had  been  written  down. 
Bad-young-man  had  come  back. 

Star-blanket  ate  his  meal  in  silence, 
and  Pretty-face  was  so  frightened  that 
she  went  away  when  he  began  to  fill  his 
pipe  with  tobacco  and  kinikinik.     But 


he  did  not  really  care  just  then  what 
she  did.  He  wrapped  a  blanket  around 
his  shirt  and  went  out  to  see  his  pater- 
nal grandfather,  who  lived  in  one  of 
the  tepees.  He  had  been  a  mighty 
warrior  in  his  day,  but  now*  he  was 
old,  and  could  only  remember  the  time 
of  his  prowess  which  had  gone  by. 
He  could  talk,  but  he  could  not  see, 
and  his  chief  delight  was  in  smoking 
and  sleeping  in  the  sun.  That  night 
when  he  smelt  the  kinikinik  in  Star- 
blanket's  tobacco,  his  tongue  was 
loosened,  and  he  told  many  a  story  of 
violent  deed  and  desperate  death. 
Star-blanket  was  convinced  that  the 
old  way  was  a  good  way,  and  he  went 
out  into  the  moonlight,  unhobbled  one 
of  his  ponies  and  rode  away  furiously, 
yelling  every  little  while  at  the  moon. 
When  he  came  back  he  pulled  Pretty- 
face  out  of  one  of  the  tepees  where  she 
was  hiding.  She  thought  he  was  go- 
ing to  kill  her,  but  he  only  warned  her 
that  he  would  kill  her  and  Bad-young- 
man  if  he  ever  heard  of  them  being 
together  again.  Then  he  let  her  go, 
and  went  and  got  the  medicine-pole- 
bag  and  gave  it  to  his  grandfather. 

After  a  night's  sleep  he  had  forgot- 
ten his  lapse  to  paganism,  and  again 
found  himself  wanting  to  be  a  ''good" 
Indian.  It  was  the  end  of  October, 
and  a  ration  day,  and  Star-blanket 
went  up  to  the  ration  house  himself, 
instead  of  sending  one  of  his  women. 
He  rode  his  best  pony,  and  took  his 
rifle  with  him.  The  farther  he  got 
from  home  the  more  restless  he  felt, 
and  he  went  down  to  his  brother-in- 
law's  camp  and  had  dinner. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  he 
returned  to  his  own  place.  There  were 
the  fresh  marks  of  a  horse's  hoofs  on 
the  trail.  They  began  after  he  had 
passed  the  coulee.  He  knew  they 
were  made  by  Bad-young-man's  pony. 
He  seemed  to  be  thinking  as  he  rode 
slowly  along,  but  suddenly  he  fired. 
He  did  not  himself  hear  the  crack  of 
his  rifle.  His  pony  stopped.  Some- 
thing fell  out  from  the  bushes,  half 
way  across  the  trail.  It  was  Bad- 
young-man.  The  pony  sniffed,  then 
plunged   and    dashed    by;  but    Star- 


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blanket  never  dropped  his  eyes.  When 
he  reached  the  house  he  went  into  the 
tepee  to  talk  with  his  grandfather,  and 
the  women  who  had  heard  the  shot 
rushed  off  to  find  Pretty- face. 

After  Star-blanket  had  heard  what 
his  grandfather  had  to  say,  he  declared 
that  the  old  way  was  the  best,  and  he 
went  out  and  made  his  '*  mark  "  to  kill 
a  white  man.  But  he  would  take  his 
time  over  that;  no  one  would  miss 
Bad-young-man  for  a  long  while. 
Pretty-face,  remembering  his  warning, 
expected  to  be  shot,  and  she  kept  out 
of  sight  for  two  days;  but  when  he 
saw  her  he  only  scolded  and  called  her 
the  worst  name  he  could  in  his  own 
language,  and  nearly  the  worst  he 
could  in  English,  and  because  he  had 
nothing  to  eat  all  that  time  except  her 
mother's  odious  bannocks  fried  in  ran- 
cid grease.  Star-blanket's  settlement 
was  some  distance  from  the  main  trail 
to  Macleod,  and  there  was  little  likeli- 
hood of  any  one  coming  up  to  his  hill; 
so,  for  a  week.  Bad-young-man  lay  as 
he  had  fallen.  No  one  went  gear  him. 
For  a  day  and  a  night  his  pony  stood 
by  him,  but,  wandering  away  looking  for 
grass  he  was  taken  by  one  of  the  women 
and  hobbled  at  night  with  the  others. 

Suddenly  Star-blanket  became  rest- 
less. Watching  from  a  small  hill  near 
his  house,  he  saw  the  agent  stop  and 
look  up  at  his  place  as  if  debating 
whether  to  visit  him  or  not.  He  Went 
on,  but  the  next  time  he  might  come. 
That  night  it  was  dark,  and  a  heavy 
cloud  in  the  east  threatened  snow. 
Star-blanket  deemed  that  this  was  a 
good  time  to  do  a  little  shooting,  so 
when  one  of  the  farm  instructors, 
moving  about  his  house,  came  between 
the  lamp  and  a  window,  he  heard  the 
sharp  crack  of  a  rifle,  and  saw  a 
flower-pot  jump  off  the  window  sill. 
He  did  not  believe  he  was  hit  until  the 
doctor,  tracing  the  bullet  from  the 
point  of  his  hip  backward,  produced  it 
from  somewhere  near  his  spine.  An- 
other inch  and  he  would  not  have  seen 
the  flower-pot  jump  off  the  window 
sill.  Up  came  the  cloud  carrying  and 
scattering  snow,  and  away  went  Star- 
blanket  with  it. 


In  the  morning  the  reserve  was  alive 
with  excitement.  The  Northwest 
mounted  police  patrols  were  out  scour- 
ing the  country,  but  safely  were  the 
marks  of  Star-blanket's  pony  hidden 
in  the  obscurity  of  the  snow.  Star- 
blanket  himself  kept  close  to  his  place 
all  day,  but  one  of  his  women  brought 
him  up  the  news.  The  instructor  was 
not  even  badly  hurt;  in  a  day  or  two 
he  would  be  as  well  as  ever.  Star- 
blanket  did  not  care  very  much;  all 
white  men  were  alike  to  him;  only  he 
made  his  mark  to  kill  another,  the 
agent  this  time.  He  would  have  done 
so  had  not  Bad-young-man's  pony 
broken  away  and  gone  straight  to  the 
lower  camp.  His  appearance  caused 
a  commotion,  and  soon  it  was  known 
everywhere  that  Bad-young-man's  pony 
had  come  back  without  Bad-young- 
man,  and  the  question  naturally  arose 
— what  had  become  of  that  celebrated 
gambler  and  lady-killer.  Every  pos- 
sible and  probable  cause  of  his  disap- . 
pearance  was  canvassed,  when  Medi- 
cine-pipe-crane-turning declared  that 
he  had  been  murdered.  He  had  no 
evidence  to  offer,  but  he  looked  the 
pony  all  oyer  and  declared  that  he  had 
been  murdered. 

Star-blanket  was  uneasy  when  he 
found  that  Bad-young-man's  pony  had 
strayed  ofl*,  and  later  in  the  morning 
he  saw  a  girl  of  Wolf-buU'sband  come 
out  of  the  bushes  near  his  trail.  Some- 
thing in  the  way  this  girl  hurried  along 
made  him  know  that  she  had  found 
Bad-young-man.  Toward  evening, 
when  the  police  rode  up  with  tramp 
and  jangle,  they  found  only  Star-blank- 
et's blind  paternal  grandfather  huddled 
up  in  his  tepee.  Hours  before  Star- 
blanket  and  his  whole  menage,  ponies, 
women,  kids,  kettles,  blankets  and  all, 
had  taken  to  the  brush. 

That  night  it  was  known  over  the 
whole  reserve  that  Star-blanket  had 
shot  Bad-young- man  and  had  tried  to 
kill  an  instructor.  The  word  went  out 
by  runners  to  the  farthest  police  posts, 
and  while  the  fugitives  were  hidden  in 
the  bottom  of  some  coulee  under  the 
stars  and  out  of  the  wind,  his  fame 
had  travelled  from   Macleod  half-way 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


round  the  world.  No  one  could  un- 
derstand how  Star-blanket,  who  want- 
ed to  be  a  *'  good  "  Indian,  had  done 
this  thing.  He  was  a  mild,  big  fellow, 
with  sad  eyes  in  a  face  rather  emaci- 
ated. But,  whatever  reasons  he  had 
had,  he  was  now  to  be  caught  and 
punished.  It  was  once  more  civiliza- 
tion against  barbarism.  Against  this 
one  Indian  who  had  dared  to  follow 
the  old  tradition  was  arrayed  all  or- 
ganized law.  The  mounted  police,  the 
Indian  agent,  and  the  Bloods,  the  peo- 
ple of  his  own  clan  and  totem,  who 
had  learned  well  the  white  man's  treach- 
ery, were  banded  together  to  hunt  him 
down. 

Star- blanket  resolved  that,  so  far  as 
he  was  able,  he  would  make  it  a  long 
and  merry  chase.  To  that  end  he  be- 
gan by  discarding  all  the  comforts  of 
home;  and  one  evening,  about  sun- 
down, a  squad  of  police  were  surprised 
to  stumble  on  Star-blanket's  women 
and  the  paraphernalia  of  his  camp 
scurrying  along  the  main  trail.  They 
gathered  them  in,  but  from  them  they 
could  gain  no  clew  to  the  whereabouts 
of  the  murderer.  Now  that  he  was 
free  of  his  impediments  Star-blanket 
began  a  flitting  to  and  fro  that  puzzled 
the  most  cunning  scouts  and  unsettled 
the  most  phlegmatic  brave  on  the  re- 
serve. Knowing  all  the  fleetest  horses 
he  stole  them  by  night  and  used  each 
one  until  it  was  played  out.  In  vain 
the  scouts  followed  tracks  in  the  snow. 
Reports  came  in  that  he  had  been  seen, 
mounted  on  a  white  horse,  in  the  Belly 
River  bottom;  but  it  was  found  to  be 
one  of  Cochrane's  cowboys.  Three- 
buirs  piebald  racer,  the  fastest  horse 
on  the  reserve  was  stolen, although  his 
owner  was  watching  all  night,  and  the 
next  morning  he  was  found  forty  miles 
away  completely  exhausted.  The  In- 
dians fell  into  a  panic;  no  one  did  a 
stroke  of  work.  Reports  came  in, 
which,  if  true,  would  mean  that  he  had 
been  seen  on  the  same  night  in  two 
different  places  thirty  miles  apart.  The 
Indians  believed  that  he  had  some 
^'medicine,"  and  that  he  would  never 
be  caught.  Three  weeks  had  been 
lost  in  the  chase,  and  even  the  police 


were  beginning  to  chaff  one  another. 
It  looked  probable  that  Star-blanket 
had  retired  to  the  wilds  of  the  Koote- 
nay,  or  had  flitted  over  the  line  to 
Montana. 

He  could  have  done  either  of  these 
things  readily  enough,  but,  with  a  sort 
of  bravado  he  chose  to  circle  like  a 
hawk  about  his  own  reserve.  He 
well  knew  what  an  excitement  his  es- 
capade was  causing,  and  his  gratified 
vanity  bore  him  through  perils  and 
hardships  which  he  would  for  some 
reasons  have  shunned.  All  the  nights 
of  the  late  October  were  cold,  as  he 
sometimes  lay  next  his  horse  In  the 
bottom  of  a  coulee,  sheltered  from  the 
wind,  with  his  single  blanket  for  a  cov- 
ering, or  riding  in  the  teeth  of  a  storm 
of  snow  or  sleet  to  appear  or  disappear 
like  a  spirit.  Hunger  pursued  him. 
The  white  man,  with  his  cunning,  had 
locked  up  his  women,  and  they  could 
not  cache  food  for  him.  He  distrusted 
his  relatives)  he  knew  that  they  would 
be  bribed  to  hunt  him  down  or  lay  a 
trap  for  him.  Sometimes  he  stood 
under  the  stars  so  near  their  tepees 
that  he  could  hear  their  breathing. 
Once  he  stole  two  days'  rations  from  a 
mounted  policeman  who  was  sleeping 
by  his  hobbled  horse.  But  always  he 
was  hungry.  His  face  grew  more 
emaciated  and  his  eyes  took  on  the 
glitter  of  ice  under  starlight.  Sleep- 
less by  night  and  by  day,  he  called  on 
his  gods  to  strike  his  enemies.  They 
had  taken  his  country  from  him,  his 
manners  and  his  garb,  and  when  he 
rebelled  against  them,  their  hands  were 
upon  him.  Sometimes  he  felt  as  if 
his  head  was  on  fire,  and  he  held  his 
hands  up  in  the  dark  to  see  the  reflec- 
tion of  the  flames.  Sometimes  he 
reeled  in  his  saddle  when  he  looked  off 
towards  the  foothills  of  the  Rockies, 
shining  silvery  in  the  distance,  like  an 
uplifted  land  of  promise. 

He  was  getting  tired  of  it  all.  A 
sort  of  contempt  for  his  pursuers,  for 
the  hundreds  of  them  that  could  not 
catch  him,  crept  upon  him.  He  grew 
more  careless  and  more  daring.  They 
found  his  trail  mingled  with  their  own. 
One  day  after  a  storm,  in  which  three 


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inches  of  snow  had  fallen,  he  struck 
the  trail  boldly  at  Bentley's,  crossed 
the  ford  there  without  any  attempt  at 
concealment,  worked  his  way  down 
the  river.  Again  he  forded ;  then 
doubling  on  his  tracks  through  thick 
brush,  recrossed  his  own  trail  at  Bent- 
ley's,  and  then  followed  the  river  bank 
up  stream.  Then,  after  a  mile  or  so, 
be  came  out  into  the  open.  It  was  a 
clear  morning  after  the  storm;  above, 
a  lofty  blue  sky;  below,  the  plain 
stretching  away  covered  with  the 
gleaming  snow.  He  was  riding  leis- 
urely, when  suddenly,  without  turning 
around,  he  knew  he  was  followed. 
Urging  his  horse  and  glancing  over 
his  shoulder,  he  saw  three  mounted 
men  on  his  trail  about  a  mile  away. 
He  dashed  ahead,  at  first  without 
eagerness,  with  an  air  of  reckless  con- 
tempt. The  next  time  he  looked  he 
noticed  that  one  of  the  horsemen  had 
begun  to  draw  away  from  his  compan- 
ions. 

Star-blanket*s  pony  was  not  fresh, 
be  had  ridden  him  many  a  mile  in  the 
night,  and  the  beast  showed  signs  of 
fatigue.  He  urged  him  to  the  top  of 
his  speed,  but  the  next  time  he  looked 
behind  his  pursuer  had  gained.  He 
could  see  that  he  was  mounted  on  a 
spirited  horse  which  was  perfectly 
fresh.  He  calculated  that  before  he 
had  gone  another  mile  his  enemy 
would  be  abreast  of  him.  His  own 
beast,  instead  of  responding  to  his 
cries,  seemed  to  lag,  he  had  no  life  in 
him.  When  Star-blanket  looked  over 
his  shoulder  again  he  could  almost 
distinguish  the  features  of  his  pursuer. 
He  had  long,  blonde  moustaches  and  a 
ruddy  face.  Star-blanket  knew  who 
it  was.  It  was  Sergeant  Wales  of 
the  Pincher  Creek  detachment.  He 
was  rapidly  overhauling  him.  Star- 
blanket  could  hear  him  shout  now  and 
then.  What  would  he  do  ?  His  im- 
pulse was  simply  to  surrender.  Glanc- 
ing once  more  behind  him,  he  saw 
that  Wales  had  drawn  his  pistol  and  he 
would  soon  be  within  its  range.  Again 
he  urged  his  tired  beast.  He  kept  his 
eyes  fixed  for  a  while  on  the  snow 
which  the    hoofs   of  his   pony   were 


tramping.  Over  the  light,  uneven 
sound  of  his  hoofs  and  the  movements 
of  his  trappings,  Star-blanket  began 
to  hear  the  pounding  of  the  approach- 
ing feet,  regular  and  strong,  and  the 
jingle  and  rattle  of  the  accoutrements. 
Every  moment  he  expected  to  hear  the 
whistle  of  a  bullet  past  his  ears. 

Suddenly  the  thought  flashed  through 
him  that  Wales  intended  to  take  him 
alive  and  lead  him  back  to  barracks  a 
captive.  Once  more,  and  for  the  last 
time,  he  looked  behind  him.  Rushing 
splendidly,  horse  and  rider  moving  as 
one,  they  thundered  down  upon  him. 
Sun  flashing  from  red  tunic,  from 
points  of  brass  and  steel,  foam  spring- 
ing from  nostril  white  as  the  snow  into 
which  it  fell,  on  they  came  as  if  hurled 
from  a  catapult  to  overwhelm  irresist- 
ibly this  rickety  pony  with  its  starved 
rider.  Star-blanket  gazed  for  a  mo- 
ment; he  could  see  the  eye-balls  of 
his  captor  gleam.  He  did  not  utter  a 
sound;  he  merely  smiled  with  the  glo- 
rious excitement  and  triumph.  I  will 
make  him  shoot  me,  the  Indian  thought 
His  rifle  lay  in  the  hollow  of  his  arm. 
Star-blanket  turned  away,  and  as  he 
turned  his  rifle  spoke.  Now  he  will 
shoot  me  in  the  back,  he  thought.  No. 
Thirty  yards  they  went.  Star-blanket 
heard  a  cry  behind  him.  He  turned  in 
time  to  see  the  towering  frame  of 
Wales  swerve  in  his  saddle,  bend  back- 
wards, swing  from  his  horse.  In  a 
twinkling  Star-blanket  wheeled  his 
pony.  The  horse,  dragging  its  mast- 
er's weight,  rushed  on  for  twenty 
yards,  then  stopped.  Quickly,  so 
quickly  that  the  words  of  the  story 
seem  leaden.  Star-blanket  dismounted. 
A  couple  of  bullets  whistled  far  over 
his  head  from  his  other  pursuers  half 
a  mile  away.  Then  he  did  something 
inconceivably  brave  for  an  Indian.  He 
ran  close  to  the  dead  man,  fired  into 
him,  grabbed  his  horse,  leaped  into 
the  saddle  and  was  off.  From  a  mile 
distant  he  saw  his  pursuers  stoop  over 
the  body  of  the  sergeant,  and  then 
gaze  after  him  where  he  made  a  blot  up- 
on the  snow.  Slowly  he  raised  his  arm 
and  turned  from  them,  making  for  Stand- 
off and  the  mouth  of  the  Kootenay. 


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Wolf-plume  was  Star-blanket's 
brother-in-law.  He  had  a  house  with 
two  stories,  and  one  bed  in  which  he 
never  slept.  Following  the  agent's 
directions,  by  day  his  house  wore  an 
inviting  appearance;  by  night  it  was 
lighted  as  if  prepared  for  feasting  and 
tea  drinking.  The  third  night  after 
the  shooting  of  Wales,  the  snow  had 
begun  to  fall  near  sundown,  and  fell 
silently,  unmoved  by  wind,  as  the 
night  deepened.  Through  the  snow, 
an  Indian,  leading  his  horse,  his  face 
hidden  in  his  blanket,  approached 
Wolf-plume's  house.  He  tapped  soft- 
ly at  the  door.  When  Wolf-plume 
came,  the  covering  dropped  a  little 
from  the  face.  It  was  Star- blanket. 
At  first  he  would  not  come  nearer. 
But,  reassured  by  the  words  of  his 
brother-in-law,  and  drawn  powerfully 
by  the  odor  of  a  stew  that  came  out 
strongly  into  the  snow,  he  threw  the 
rein  off  his  arm,  left  his  horse  stand- 
ing, and  entered.  There  was  no  dan- 
ger in  sight.  A  bench  was  placed  for 
him.  The  stew  tasted  like  nothing 
which  had  ever  passed  his  lips  before; 
and  weariness  overcame  him,  weari- 
ness and  sleep.  After  weeks  of  priva- 
tion, starved,  frozen,  jaded  with  the 
saddle,  hunted  for  his  life,  he  laid  down 
in  the  house  of  his  friends  and  slept. 

He  slept.  Then  Wolf-plume  took 
the  lamp  out  of  the  east  window  and 
from  miles  away  started  the  policemen 
who  had  waited  only  for  that  signal. 
Soon  they  had  surrounded  the  little 
house.  They  let  him  sleep  as  a  free 
man,  sleep  as  the  snow  fell  and  the 
clouds  cleared  off,  and  stars  came  out 
piercingly  bright  in  the  sky.  He  woke 
toward  morning,  and  all  about  him 
was  the  stamping  of  horses  and  the 
movement  of  red  tunics. 


Many  days  after  that,  just  before 
they  hanged  him,  he  thought  of  the 
medicine-pole-bag.  He  had  often 
thought  of  Pretty-face,  but  he  did  not 
want  to  see  her.  He  had  thought  of 
many  things  which  he  did  not  under- 
stand. He  was  to  die  in  the  white 
man's  manner,  in  the  }Kzy  he  killed  the 
braves  of  his  own  race  who  had  dealt 
mightily  with  their  hands.  He  could 
not  comprehend  it  all.  They  had  driv- 
en away  the  buffalo,  and  made  the 
Indian  sad  with  flour  and  beef,  and  had 
put  his  muscles  into  harness.  He  had 
only  shot  a  bad  Indian,,  and  they  rose 
upon  him.  His  gun  had  shot  a  big 
policeman,  and  when  they  had  taught 
his  brother-in-law  their  own  morals  he 
was  taken  in  sleep,  and  now  there  was 
to  be  an  end.  He  did  not  know  what 
P^re  Pauquette  meant  by  his  prayers, 
and  the  presentation  of  the  little  cruci- 
fix worn  bright  with  many  salutations. 
It  was  all  involved  in  mystery,  dire 
and  vast.  Groping  about  for  some 
solace  he  sent  for  the  medicine-pole- 
bag,  and  when  they  brought  it  and  he 
was  left  alone,  he  placed  it  in  a  corner 
of  his  cell  and  gazed  for  a  long  time 
upon  the  parfleche  covering  with  its 
magical  markings.  When  they  had 
left  him  for  his  last  sleep  he  gathered 
it  to  his  breast,  and  all  night  he  slept 
with  it  there,  unutterably  content.  The 
next  morning  they  took  it  away.  It 
was  very  cold  for  early  spring.  He 
did  not  hear  or  understand  what  P^re 
Pauquette  murmured  in  his  ear.  His 
was  the  calm  of  a  stoic.  He  breathed 
deeply  the  scent  of  the  sweet  grass 
with  which  the  medicine-pole-bag  was 
filled,  ^hich  clung  to  his  tunic  and 
rose  like  incense  about  his  face.  And 
so  Star-blanket  died. 


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THE  GRAVES  OF  THE  ENGLISH  DEAD* 

BY  VERNON  NOTT 

IN  a  burial  ground  by  the  rim  of  the  sea,  that  fronts  toward  the  crimson  west, 
'Mid  gathering  twilight,  I  sat  alone  where  the  dead  were  lying  in  rest; 
And  meseem'd  that  voices  from  far  away  with  longing  vainly  cried — 
For  softly  I  heard,  as  it  sang  to  the  shore,  the  drone  of  the  ceaseless  tide. 
As  the  moon  uprose  from  the  purple  waves, 
I  looked  on  that  garden  of  serried  graves — 
And  sorrow  crept  to  my  side. 

*'These  are  such,"  I  mused,  ''all  sleeping  here,  as  have  chosen  the  peaceful  life; 
As  have  lived  and  died  in  their  wave-girt  home,  unlured  by  the  lust  of  strife; 
They  are  such  as  humbled  themselves  to  fate,  choosing  the  minor  pain — 
Yet  wrought  as  men  of  our  English  race — and  here  in  their  home  are  lain: 

But  what  of  the  others — the  heroes  they! — 

Who,  true  to  their  blood,  have  sail'd  away — 
And  will  never  return  again? 

''Where  do  they  lie,  those  dauntless  ones,  who  in  pride  of  their  English  birth 
Carried  the  sword  or  the  Word  of  God  to  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth; 
Who,  sharing  the  Christian's  burden,  have  suffered  and  wrought  and  bled — 
And  stamp'd  for  ever,  the  wide  world  over,  marks  of  their  tireless  tread?" 

And  lo!  in  a  vision  then  wrought  for  me, 

I  saw  in  the  lands  beyond  the  sea 

The  graves  of  the  English  Dead. 

I  saw  where  the  lonely  legion  lay,  afar  from  their  island  home. 

Like  seed  from  the  hand  of  a  sower,  like  stars  in  the  heavens'  dome: 

They  lie  in  the  five  big  continents;  they  are  lull'd  by  every  breeze; 

Are  tomb'd  in  the  ice  of  antipodal  Poles,  or  'neath  shade  of  the  tamarind  trees: 

And  such  as  were  whelm'd  by  the  vengeful  waves 

Are  asleep  in  the  dusk  of  coral  caves 

In  the  depths  of  the  outer  seas. 

Where  sunless  the  far-away  circles  gloom  and  the  cold  winds  moan  around 
Are  their  footsteps  lock'd  in  the  icefloe,  by  Death  their  foeman  bound ; 
'Mid  the  waterless  deserts'  dustblown  drifts,  by  God  and  devil  bann'd. 
The  tracks  of  our'brothers  who  challenged  Death  are  lost  in  the  shifting  sand. 
Oh,  bravely  they  lived  and  as  bravely  died. 
These  men  that  wrought,  to  their  country's  pride. 
The  works  of  heart  and  hand! 

In  the  burial  ground  by  the  side  of  the  sea,  that  fronts  to  the  mystic  west. 
By  light  of  the  moon,  I  sat  alone  where  the  dead  were  taking  their  rest; 
And  meseem'd  that  a  voice  from  over  the  world  in  a  yearning  whisper  said, 
"How  long,  how  long,  dear  Lord,  how  long  ere  race  to  race  be  wed?" —  - 

There's  a  voice  in  the  ocean's  muffled  roar 

Telling  a  tale  to  the  English  shore 

Of  the  graves  of  the  English  Dead. 

*From  "The  Journey's  End  and  Other  Verses,"  by  Vernon  Nott.  Montreal:  A.  T. 
Chapman.  Comt>are  "The  Chain  of  Empire,"  by  Clive  Phillipps-Wolley,  Canadian  Magazine, 
Vol.  xii,  pp.  494-495- 


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SHAW'S  COMEDY 

By  ALBERT  R,   CARMAN,  Auihor  of  **  The  Penstonnaires,''  etc. 


IR.  WILLIS  J.  SHAW 
started  guiltily  away  from 
Mrs.  Willis  J.  Shaw  at  the 
sound  of  a  ^harp  rap  at  the 
door.  Mrs.  Shaw  looked 
up  quickly  with  resentful  apprehension, 
and  her  eyes  said  petulantly — *'  Who 
can  it  be  ?"  Mr.  Shaw  had  an  annoyed 
and  hesitant  air  as  if  he  contemplated 
double-locking  the  door  and  pretend- 
ing that  they  were  dead,  or  had  gone 
out,  or  something  of  that  sort. 

**  You'll  have  to  see  who  it  is," 
whispered  Mrs.  Shaw. 

At  this,  Mr.  Shaw  looked  more  sav- 
age than  ever,  and  strode  angrily  to 
the  door.  He  flung  it  open;  and  there 
stood  the  bell  boy  with  his  hand  just 
raised  to  knock  again.  But,  instead, 
he  presented  his  silver  tray. 
**  A  card  for  you,  sir." 
Mr.  Shaw  took  the  card  and  read — 

Miss  Estbllb  Stanley 

"  You  are  sure  it  is  for  me  ?"  he  de- 
manded of  the  boy. 

'« It  is  for  Mr.  Shaw." 

'•Where  is  the  lady?" 

*'In  the  Ladies'  Parlour,  sir." 

'*  Um-m!  Did  she — wasn't  it  for 
Mrs.  Shaw?" 

••  I  was  just  told  *  Mr.  Shaw.'" 

"Who  is  it— dear?"  There  was 
just  a  little  hesitation  before  the 
<'  dear,"  and  after  it  Mrs.  Shaw  looked 
defiantly  at  the  bell  boy;  for  she  had 
been  "Mrs.  Shaw"  for  only  about 
twenty-four  hours,  and  it  was  still 
quite  a  feat  for  her  to  call  Willis 
"dear"  in  public. 

"  I  haven't  an  idea,"  said  Willis. 
• '  Do  you  know  a  Miss  Estelle  Stanley?" 

"No-o." 

"  There  must  be  some  mistake," 
said  Willis,  turning  to  the  boy. 

"I'll  see,  sir,"  said  the  boy;  and, 
taking  the  card  again,  he  backed  away. 

The  newly  married  couple  looked 
curiously  at  each  other.  "A  mis- 
take," said  Willis,  tossing  his  head  as 


if  to  fling  off  the  incident;  and,  smil- 
ing, he  turned  toward  his  bride.  But 
she  moved  away.  Until  the  intrusion 
of  this  other  woman  had  passed,  she 
felt  that  things  were  not  quite  as  they 
had  been. 

Another  rap  at  the  door;  and  then 
the  bell  boy  was  saying — 

"  She  says  that  she  has  an  appoint- 
ment with  you,  sir — and  that  she  don't 
know  anything  about  any  other  lady," 
looking  significantly  at  Mrs.  Willis. 

Willis  gasped  and  turned  toward 
Mrs.  Willis. 

"  You  had  better  see  her,"  Mrs.  Wil- 
lis was  saying  icily. 

"But  I  don't  know  her,"  stormed 
Willis.  "  You — would  you  come  down 
with  me?"  He  seemed  to  doubt 
whether  she  would  or  not ;  and  the 
doubt  settled  it.  If  he  had  taken  it  as 
a  matter  of  course,  she  would  have 
gone;  but  he  clearly  thought  that  the 
proper  thing  for  her  to  do  was  to  stay 
where  she  was — and  she  would  stay. 

"The  card  is  not  for  me,"  she  said 
with  determination;  and  then  seeing 
Willis  still  hesitate  in  painful  doubt, 
she  relented  toward  him  and  added 
kindly — "  You  will  probably  find  it  is 
a  mistake  when  you  get  there." 

"Very  well,"  said  Willis;  and  he 
brushed  off  the  shoulders  of  his  coat 
and  smoothed  his  hair,  and  went. 
Curiosity  had  nearly  driven  annoyance 
out  of  the  face  that  he  turned  to  her  in 
going;  so  that  when  the  door  was  quite 
closed  Mrs.  Willis  started  to  say — 
"  I  wonder — ;"  and  then  caught  her 
breath  and  bravely  refused  to  wonder. 

II 

There  was  only  one  lady  in  the  par- 
lour ;  and  she  wore  an  expectaqt  air. 
She  also  wore  a  flaming  hat  and  a 
costume  which  made  the  red  plush 
furniture  look  dull. 

"Miss  Stanley?"  said  Willis,  bow- 
ing, 

"Yes,"  said  the  girl,  getting  up  with 


"58 


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SHAW'S  COMEDY 


259 


a  bright  smile  that  was  almost  start- 
iiog  in  its  sudden  vivacity.  '*  So  you 
finally  decided  to  see  me?*'  There 
was  challenge  in  her  tones. 

"I  could  not  well  do  otherwise," 
replied  Willis  with  wondering  resent- 
ment. 

The  girl  smiled  confidently  and  said 
— **  I  should  think  not,  after  your 
promise. " 

•*  My  promise?" — in  open  astonish- 
ment 

**  Well,  it  was  equivalent  to  a  prom- 
ise surely.  You  said  that  you  would 
see  me  when  you  came  to  the  city  in 
connection  with  your  wedding  trip — " 

**  I — said — my — wedding  trip?"  Wil- 
lis managed  to  get  out. 

**  Yes,  you  really  did.  I  know  that 
you  have  so  much  to  think  of,  but  you 
really  wrote  me  that  or  I  would  never 
have  bothered  you."  The  girl  was 
quite  serious  now;  and  Willis  noticed 
that  she  was  a  good  deal  older  than 
she  had  seemed  when  he  came  in. 

•*  But—"  Willis  began. 

•'  Oh,  ril  believe  you  if  you  say  you 
have  forgotten  it,"  she  broke  in.  *'  I 
dare  say," — a  little  sadly — "you  have 
made  the  same  promise  to  twenty  other 
ladies—" 

«'  But  I  haven't,'*  burst  out  Willis. 

•*Well,  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  she 
said  with  apparent  relief.  "  But  you 
remember  me? — Miss  Stanley — Miss 
Estelle  Stanley  of  the  <  Night  Off' 
Company  ?" 

Willis  stared  at  her  with  open  mouth. 
Then,  realizingf  how  ridiculous  he  must 
look,  he  quickly  recovered  himself. 

**  I_I_have  seen—*  A  Night  Off,' " 
he  said  lamely. 

A  curious  smile  flitted  across  her 
face.  *•  Really!"  she  said  with  obvious 
irony. 

**  Were  you  in  it?"  he  asked. 

"You  never  saw  me  in  it,"  she  re- 
plied coldly.  "  But,  really,  Mr.  Shaw, 
if  you  have  already  chosen  your  bride 
for  your  wedding  trip,  there  is  no 
need  of  all  these  theatricals.  I  think 
I  could  fill  the  bill,  and  I  wanted  the 
chance;  but  I  dare  say  I  shall  get  on 
without  it.  I  am  sorry  that  I  inter- 
rupted you.     Good  afternoon!"     And 


she  swept  past  him  with  a  walk  very 
suggestive  of  the  footlights,  and  down 
the  hotel  corridor  toward  the  elevator. 
Instinctively,  Willis  stepped  into  the 
hall  to  watch  that  she  did  not  try  to 
jump  down  the  shaft. 

Ill 

Mrs.  Willis  had  hardly  had  time  to 
wish  that  she  had  put  her  pride  in  her 
pocket  and  gone  with  Willis  when 
there  was  a  quick  rap  on  the  door  of 
her  room  and  the  handle  was  instantly 
turned.  The  door  opened,  and  a 
smooth-shaven,  reddish,  rather  greasy 
countenance  was  thrust  through  the 
opening. 

"Ah!  'beg  pardon!"  said  a  hoarse 
voice.     "  Isn't  this  Shaw's  room  ?" 

**  Ye-es,"  said  Mrs.  Willis  tremu- 
lously. 

A  part  of  a  neatly  dressed,  stout  fig- 
ure followed  the  shining  face  through 
the  aperture,  and  the  smallish  eyes 
looked  quickly  all  around  the  apart- 
ment. "He's  out,  isn't  he  ?"  jerked  out 
the  pudgy  lips. 

"Yes — but  just  for  a  moment,"  said 
Mrs.  Willis.  She  was  getting  quite 
frightened,  and  noted  with  horror  that 
the  bell  button  was  right  at  the  door. 

"Ah!  Perhaps  you're  the  bride,'* 
cried  the  little  man,  now  coming  quite 
into  the  room  and  smiling  tentatively. 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs,  Willis.  It  was 
little  more  than  a  whisper  now.  "Are 
you  a  friend  of  Mr.  Shaw's?"  she  man- 
aged to  ask. 

"An  old  crony," — and  the  stout  lit- 
tle man  wiped  his  bald  head  with  a 
handkerchief  that  gave  off  a  wave  of 
strong  perfume  which  its  appearance 
indicated  that  it  needed. 

Mrs.  Willis's  eyes  indignantly  de- 
nied the  "old  cronyship,"  but  other- 
wise she  preserved  an  armed  neutrality 
toward  her  visitor. 

"Yes,"  went  on  the  oleaginous 
party  reflectively,  "  Shaw  and  I  have 
had  some  times  together.  He's  a 
pretty  game  bird,  I  can  tell  you — 
though  he  don't  look  it!  No,  he  don't 
look  it.  I'm  not  surprised  that  you're 
surprised — " 

The   indignation    in    Mrs.    Willis's 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


eyes  had  now  become  so  frantic  that 
the  little  man  thought  it  prudent  to 
pause  a  moment,  and  try  to  make  out 
the  meaning  of  these  signals. 

'*  I  am  sure  that  you  are  entirely 
mistaken  about  Mr.  Shaw/'  said  Mrs. 
Willis  in  a  tone  which  she  meant  to  be 
cold  and  firm;  and  it  might  have  been, 
if  her  under  lip  had  not  been  trembling 
and  a  new  indignation  filling  her  throat 
because  Willis  dared  to  stay  so  long 
away  with  that  '*  strange  woman/' 
while  she,  his  bride  of  a  day,  was  be- 
ing insulted  by  this  odious  creature. 

The  pig-like  eyes  of  the  fat  little 
man  moved  restively,  but  he  said 
nothing. 

**  Perhaps,"  went  on  Mrs.  Willis, 
"you  had  better  wait  for  Mr.  Shaw 
down  in  the  office." 

At  this  the  pig  eyes  flashed  in  a 
steely  manner.  *•  Perhaps,"  said  their 
owner  aggressively,  **you  do  not 
know  that  I  am  the  manager  of  the 
Booth  Theatre  ?" 

**  I  quite  believe  it,"  said  Mrs.  Wil- 
lis with  crushing  contempt. 

"You'd  better  believe  it,"  rejoined 
the  little  man,  now  thoroughly  angry. 
"You  may  have  cause,  if  you  go  on 
with  Mr.  Shaw,  to  learn  that  it  is  true." 
And  he  wagged  his  head  warningly. 

"  Sir!"  cried  Mrs.  Willis.  It  was 
all  that  she  could  get  out.  Then  she 
pointed  silently  to  the  door. 

"As  you  wish,  Lady  Macbeth," 
snapped  out  the  pudgy  lips  from  a 
face  now  purple  with  thoughts  of  ven- 
geance; and  he  flustered  out  and  slam- 
med the  door  after  himself. 

IV 

The  little  man  was  just  in  time  to 
catch  the  elevator.  A  brightly  dressed 
lady  was  in  it  already,  and  there  was 
something  familiar  about  her  face. 
He  looked  at  her  enquiringly,  when  she 
smiled  and  bowed. 

"You  don't  know  me,  Mr.  Samson?" 
she  said  archly. 

"  Yes  I  do.  Yes  I  do,"  he  returned 
jocosely.  "But  I've  just  forgotten 
my  cue.  See! — don't  I  come  on  like 
this?" — and  he  held  himself  in  what  he 
thought  was  an  imitation  of  the  Irving 


manner — "  and,  say — *  Beautiful  day, 
Miss — Miss — ' " 

"Stanley?" 

"Miss  Stanley! — Sure!  Why,  you 
were  at  the  Booth  last  fall  ?" 

««Yes— *A  Night  Off.'" 

"Yes,  yes."  They  were  walking 
by  now  across  the  office.  "  Well,  I 
have  to  stay  here,"  announced  Mr. 
Samson,  "to  meet  a  good  fellow  gone 
wrong." 

"Are  you  going  the  rest  of  the 
way  with  him  ?"  asked  Miss  Stanley 
brightly. 

Mr.  Samson  grew  suddenly  serious. 
"  Not  if  the  court  knows  itself,"  he 
declared  emphatically.  "  It's  a  fool 
friend  of  mine  who  has  written  a  play 
— a  good  play — a  delicate  piece  of 
comedy — no  *  knock-about,'  no  gaJ- 
lery  *  make-up  ' — nothing  of  that  sort. 
And  then,  what  do  you  think  he  has 
gone  and  done  ?" 

Miss  Stanley  shook  a  smiling  face 
at  him. 

"  He  has  picked  out  for  his  leading 
lady  a  sort  of  a  sawed-ofF,  weeping 
Lady  Macbeth,  who  thinks  it's  a  sin  to 
joke,  who  talks  like  East  Lynne  all 
the  time,  who  threatened  to  have 
hysterics  When  I  mentioned  that  Shaw 
was  *  one  of  the  boys' — " 

''Shaw?" 

"Yes." 

''So  that  was  what  he  turned  me 
down  for,"  she  shot  out  savagely,  her 
face  aging  ten  years  in  a  breath,  and 
green  venom  spitting  from  her  eyes. 

Mr.  .Samson  turned  and  looked  at 
her  understandingly.  He  did  not  have 
to  have  things  like  this  explained  to 
him. 

"  When  did  you  see  him  ?"  he  asked 
quietly. 

"  Just'now — upstairs.  I  had  to  tear 
him  away  from  the  lady  who  is  to  play 
in  his  play,   because  she  loves  him." 

*•  Loves  him?" 

"  Certainly.  Can't  you  see  that 
much  .from  what  you  have  told  me 
yourself  ?" 

Mr.  Samson  whistled.'  "And  I'm  to 
wait  here — *  in  the  office  ' — for  him, 
until  his  lovey-dovey  sends  him  down 
tome?     Well,  I'll— wait." 


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SHAWNS  COMEDY 


261 


It  was  about  half  an  hour  before 
••  Billy  "  Shaw  came  out  of  the  smok- 
ing-room and  crossed  the  office.  Mr. 
Samson  saw  him,  and  diverted  his 
walk  so  as  to  meet  him. 

**Tear  yourself  away?**  Samson 
asked  sarcastically. 

**  Hello,  Morris!  I've  been  wonder- 
ing why  you  didn't  turn  up." 

•*  Have  you  ?*' 

••Sure.  What's  the  matter  ?  Been 
imbibing  ?  Now,  see  here,  you  come 
right  along  up  to  my  room,  and — ** 

'•No,  you  don't!"— emphatically. 

••Why?" 

•'Been  Ihere." 

••  Oh!— well,  I  thought  you'd  sort  of 
look  for  me  in  the  smoking-room,  you 
know.  Very  sorry,  old  chap,  that 
you've  been  kept  waiting.  But — come 
and  have  a  drink,  anyway." 

••  No,  I  won't,"  said  Samson  bluntly. 
••  See  here,  Billy,  I  just  want  to  tell 
you  one  thing,  and  that  is  that  you 
are  the  absolute  limit  in  the  way  of  a 
fool!" 

Billy  stared  at  him  a  moment,  and 
then  said  ••  Thank  you!"  but  there  was 
more  wonder  than  resentment  in  his 
face. 

••  The  absolute  limit!"  insisted  Sam- 
son, smashing  one  fist  down  on  the 
other  hand.  ••You've  got  an  Ai  play, 
and  you  have  picked  out  a  leading 
lady  who  ought  to  be  on  the  nursing- 
bottle  yet — who  don't  know — " 

••  Great  Scott!  Have  you  seen  her?" 

••Have  I  seen  her?  Has  she  not 
bidden  me  •  Be  hence!'  as  if  I  were  a 
three-act  villain  ?" 

••  From  where?  Where  did  you  see 
her?" 

••  In  your  room." 

••Moly  Hoses!  How  did  she  get 
there!  Say,  you  simply  must  come  and 
have  a  drink." 

VI 

When  Willis  and  Mrs.  Willis  came 
out  into  the  corridor  to  go  down  to 
dinner  that  nrght  they  had  the  look  of 
people  who  thought  that  they  were 
being  ••put  upon."  There  were  signs 
of  weather  on  Mrs.  Willis's  face,  and 


a  storm  still  threatened  from  Willis's 
brow.  But  it  was  plain  that  all  ques- 
tion as  between  them  had  been  dis- 
missed. Willis  had  indignantly  denied 
that  he  had  ever  ••had  a  time"  with 
the  •*  horrid,  greasy  little  man,"  whom 
he  did  not  even  know;  and  Mrs.  Willis 
had  believed  him.  Then  he  had  told 
her  of  the  mysterious  talk  of  the  scarlet 
girl;  and  Mrs.  Willis  was  convinced 
that  they  were  in  league  to  bring 
sorrow  to  the  sweetest  love-match  the 
world  had  ever  known.  Just  why  they 
wished  them  ill  the  bride  was  not  quite 
sure;  but,  in  her  innermost  heart,  she 
thought  it  was  ••envy."  Now,  when 
they  stepped  into  the  corridor,  she 
'  could  hardly  keep  from  taking  Willis's 
hand,  simply  to  show  that  they  were 
••one  and  indivisible,"  and  that  noth- 
ing could  ever,  ever  separate  them. 

In  the  dining-room  the  considerate 
head- waiter  gave  them  a  table  to  them- 
selves. They  each  ordered  •  •  soup  "  as 
a  preliminary;  and  then  fell  to  advising 
each  other  over  the  menu  card. 

Somewhere  after  the  fish,  their 
waiter  approached  Willis,  and  said — 
••There  is  a  lady  in  the  office  asking 
for  you,  sir." 

Instantly  there  was  fight  on  Willis's 
face,  and  a  despairing  ••Just  as  I 
expected,"  on  that  of  Mrs.  Willis. 

••You  tell  the  •lady,'"  said  Willis 
firmly,  •  •  that  I  am  at  my  dinner. "  Mrs." 
Willis  looked  her  surprised  admiration 
at  him  for  this  stern,  and  yet  quite 
proper,  reply. 

••She  knows  that,  sir — but  she's 
scribbled  something  on  her  card  here;" 
and  he.  rather  unexpectedly,  handed 
Willis  the  card. 

Willis  went  white  and  red  and  black 
all  at  once  as  he  read  the  name  again — 

Miss  Estelle  Stanley 

Under  it  was  written,  •*  Mr.  S.  says 
that  you  want  to  see  me  again,  and  I 
am  leaving  town  in  an  hour." 

Willis  handed  the  card  silently  to 
Mrs.  Willis.  As  she  read  the  nam^ 
her  deep  blue  eyes  flashed  up  at  him 
again  with  a  look  that  said  here  was 
corroboration  of  her  darkest  suspic- 
ions; and  then  she  looked  quickly  back 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


to  read  the  pencilling.  As  she  did  so 
her  lips  set.  "I  don't  believe  she  is 
going  to  leave  in  an  hour/'  she  said 
decidedly,  as  if  that  were  the  chief 
point  at  issue. 

Willis  glanced  warningly  toward  the 
waiter,  and  then  asked — **  What  shall 
I  do,  dear?" 

"  I  don't  know,''  said  the  bride, des- 
perately pushing  the  whole  responsibil- 
ity over  on  him;  and  then  she  quickly 
added — **  I  don't  think  you  ought  to 
see  her,"  thus  limiting  his  ability  to 
carry  the  burden  gracefully. 

Willis  sat  back  in  perplexity;  and 
just  then  he  noticed  a  slick,  plump  lit- 
tle'man  carrying  a  shining  silk  hat  in  his 
hand,  hurriedly  following  the  head- 
waiter  into  the  room.  They  seemed 
to  be  coming  to  the  table  next — no,  to 
their  table. 

'*A  gentleman  to  see  you,  Mr.  Shaw," 
announced  the  head-waiter  blandly. 

Willis  stood  up  in  stiff  hauteur;  the 
gentleman  turned  two  pig-like  eyes  on 
him,  and  then  said — 

**  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  am  sure;  but 
this  is  a  mistake,  I  think." 

**  I  am  sure  of  it,"  returned  Willis. 

Quick  resentment  crossed  the  puffy 
little  face;  then  his  eyes  fell  on  Mrs. 
Willis.  At  this  he  turned  with  a  new 
assurance  to  Willis,  and  said — 

**  When  do  you  expect  Mr.  Shaw  in 
to  dinner?" 

Willis  opened  his  mouth  to  say 
something,  but  could  hardly  think 
what  it  ought  to  be.  Mrs.  Willis, 
now  recognizing  the  voice,  turned 
quickly  and  looked  at  Samson.  Then 
a  flash  of  triumph  lit  her  face. 

**  So,"  she  said  over  her  shoulder, 
without  thinking  how  it  would  sound, 
**you  don't  even  know  who  Mr.  Shaw 
is  when  you  see  him  ?" 

Samson  began  to  see  a  ray  of  light. 
**  Is  your  name  Shaw  ?"  he  asked  of 
Willis. 

**  It  is." 

"Well,  you  are  not  the  Mr.  Shaw 
I'm  looking  for,"  he  said;  '*and  I  beg 
your  pardon — and  this  lady's,  too." 

**  This  lady  is  Mrs.  Shaw,"  returned 
Willis,  at  which  Mrs.  Willis  visibly 
stiffened  with  satisfaction. 


'*  Glad  to  know  you,"  said  Samson, 
bowing  with  great  politeness;  a  per- 
formance which  was  rather  marred  by 
his  finding  a  heavy  hand  on  his  shoul- 
der when  he  went  to  recover. 

*'  Looking  for  me,  Morris  ?"  asked 
the  owner  of  the  hand 

♦'That's  what  I  am,  Billy,"  said 
Samson,  turning  his  fat  neck  around 
to  see  the  newcomer.  •*  And  say,"  he 
burst  out,  '* here's  where  the  'funny 
man'  unravels  the  complication  and 
lets  the  curtain  get  down.  Let  me 
make  two  Mr.  Shaws  known  to  each 
other — two;  one  " — putting  his  hand 
on  Billy's  shoulder — 'Hhe  author  of 
the  very  finest  comedy  ever  written, 
entitled  *  Their  Wedding  Trip,'  and 
the  other  ?" — and  he  waved  an  invita- 
tion to  Willis  to  describe  himself. 

For  a  hot  second  Willis  thought 
that  he  was  being  insulted.  The  only 
wedding  trip  he  knew  of  was  his;  and 
these  people  certainly  seemed  to  be 
trying  to  make  a  comedy  of  it.  But 
the  friendly,  unsuspecting  smile  on  the 
face  of  the  two  men  made  this  theory 
appear  impossible.  So  Willis  resolved 
upon  an  adroit  move. 

**  Have  you  your  comedy  with  you?" 
he  asked. 

•*  Sure!"  exclaimed  Billy.  "  I  sleep 
with  it  on  my  person."  And  he  drew 
from  somewhere  about  t^e  skirts  of 
his  coat  a  large,  flat  book.  '*  This  is 
the  first  act,"  he  went  on  gaily,  hand- 
ing it  to  Willis,  who  read  on  the  out- 
side 

THEIR  WEDDING  TRIP: 

A    SOCIAL   COMEDY 

BY 
WILLIAM    B.    SHAW. 

*'  What  I  am  up  against  now,"  said 
Billy,  as  Willis  was  awkwardly  leafing 
it  over,  ' '  is  the  selection  of  the  right 
kind  of  a  girl  to  play  the  ^  bride.'  " 

Instinctively  Willis  looked  toward 
Mrs.  Willis,  and  she  met  his  look  with 
a  corroborating  smile.  They  both 
knew  exactly  what  an  ideal  bride 
should  be  like.  Samson  tipped  Billy  a 
wink  and  cleared  his  tliroat. 

*'Now,"  he  said,  '*if  my  friend  could 


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263 


get  a  lady  like  yours,  whose  acquaint- 
ance I  formed  under  rather  inauspicious 
circumstances  to-day,  he  would  be  very 
fortunate." 

'*  I  should  not  think  of  going  on  the 
stage,"  said  Mrs.  Willis  with  decision, 
looking  to  Willis  for  commendation  of 
her  self-sacrifice. 

Billy  turned  a  reproachful  eye  on 
Samson,  which  reminded  him  of  the 
things  he  had  said  of  Mrs.  Willis  when 
he  thought  she  was  to  be  the  *'  bride;" 
but  Willis  said  nothing,  for  he  was 
blushing  again  and  wondering  if  the 
men  suspected  that  Mrs.  Willis  was 
really  a  bride. 

*'  Well,  I  am  sure  that  I  wish  you 


success,"  said  Willis  at  last,  handing 
b&ck  the  manuscript  play. 

'M  only  hope  that  it  approaches 
yours,"  returned  Billy  politely ;  and 
then  Willis  was  sure  that  they  ''knew." 

Bowing,  they  withdrew  to  the  dpor, 
where  Miss  Stanley's  hat  now  loomed 
uneasily,  like  a  sunset. 

•*So  that  was  it," said  Willis,  with 
a  sigh  of  relief,  as  he  sat  down  again. 

But  Mrs.  Willis  was  trying  to  see 
the  face  under  the  sunset.  **  To  think 
of  that  woman,"  she  muttered,  ''tak- 
ing the  part  of  a  bride."  And  she 
assumed  her  expression  of  sweetest 
innocence  that  Willis  might  appre- 
ciate the  contrast. 


SIR  GILBERT  PARKER'S  "OLD  QUEBEC" 

By   WILLIAM  WOOD,  President  of  the  Literary  and 
Historical  Society  of  Quebec 


IR  GILBERT  PARKER  is 
a  Canadian;  he  has  made 
a  special  study  of  the 
older  part  of  Canada  ;  and 
he  first  came  into  vogue 
with  a  novel  about  Quebec  in  the  time 
of  Wolfe  and  Montcalm.  These  re- 
markable qualifications  need  to  be 
pointed  out  at  once;  because  they  are 
all  so  modestly  concealed  beneath  the 
many  pages  of  his  "  Old  Quebec  "  that, 
if  they  were  not  pointed  out  before  be- 
ginning the  book,  no  one — least  of  all 
a  Quebecer — would  even  suspect  their 
existence.  His  readers  should  also 
bear  in  mind  that  this  book  is  not  only 
the  work  of  a  specially  qualified  man, 
writing  on  his  own  special  subject, 
but  also  the  final  result  of  a  particularly 
long  and  careful  preparation;  for  its 
appearance  was  heralded  by  announce- 
ments in  the  press  during  the  two 
years  before  its  actual  publication. 
Naturally  enough,  all  this  aroused 
high  expectations  among  the  large  and 


increasing  public,  which  is  becoming 
more  and  more  interested  in  this  fas- 
cinating subject. 

But,  somehow  or  other,  in  spite  of  all 
Sir  Gilbert  Parker's  advantages,  and 
in  spite  of  his  being  so  well-advertised 
an  authority  on  all  things  Canadian,  he 
has  only  succeeded  in  producing  one 
of  those  very  commonplace  specimens 
of  book-making  which  prove  how 
many  thousands  of  words  can  be  writ- 
ten all  round  about  a  given  subject, 
without  once  touching  any  of  its  vital 
issues,  much  less  reaching  the  heart  of 
it.  Of  course,  the  book  may  be  popu- 
lar enough  with  those  who  have  an 
appetite  for  a  richauffi  of  dilettante 
details,  sentimentalised  to  taste.  And 
all  this  public  needs  is  the  time-hon- 
oured recommendation,  that  those  who 
like  this  sort  of  thing  will  find  this  the 
sort  of  thing  they  like.  But,  for  the 
sake  of  those  others  who  are  a  little 
more  exacting,  it  might  be  worth  while 
to   examine   this  work   a   little   more 


*A  review  of  "Old  Quebec,  the  Fortress  of  New  France."  By  Sir  Gilbert  Parker  and 
Claude  G.  Bryan.  London  and  New  York,  Macmillan,  1903.  N.B. — This  review  was 
originally  written  in  December,  1903;  but  circumstances  delayed  its  appearance  till  the 
present  time. 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


closely,  both  as  literature  and  as  his- 
tory. 

AH  novelists  may  be  included  in 
three  great  classes — the  dramatic,  the 
melodramatic,  and  the  stagey.  Those 
in  vogue  to-day  generally  hover  about 
the  borderland  between  the  stagey  and 
the  melodramatic;  and  with  these  Sir 
Gilbert  Parker,  who  is  nothing  if  not 
fashionable,  is  perfectly  at  home.  He 
shines  as  a  star  of  the  first  magnitude 
upon  that  great  world  whose  moon  is 
Miss  Marie  Corelli  and  whose  sun  is 
Mr.  Hall  Caine.  And  though  he  once 
went  astray  into  another  solar  system, 
where  he  and  his  **  Donovan  Pasha" 
became  visible  to  the  naked  eye  as  sun- 
spots  on  Mr.  Kipling,  he  escaped  with 
nothing  worse  than*  a  singeing,  and 
has  now  come  back  again  to  his  proper 
place  in  literature  with  his  '*OId  Que- 
bec." For  here  is  what  he  calls  his 
own  "assimilation"  of  *•  history" — 
to  which  he  might  have  added  ''En- 
glish and  French  folklore." 

Some  of  his  English,  indeed,  may 
have  been  made  up  expressly  for  the 
readers  of  his  "Old  Quebec."  For 
instance,  the  "Lower  Town"  that 
"huddles  in  artistic  chaos,"  and  the 
"churches,  convents  and  schools  hud- 
dled together  in  the  fairest  city  of  the 
New  World."  He  is  also  quite  pos- 
sibly original  with  his  ^^ brave  Vaud- 
reuil"  and  ''ruggedVitX.:'  Could  all  the 
curiosa  felicitas  of  Mrs.  Malaprop  her- 
self have  made  a  "nicer  derangement 
of  epitaphs"?  The  term  ^''grisly  vet- 
erans" must  come  from  that  "assimi- 
lation" which  has  produced  so  many 
other  new  ways  of  treating  old  quota- 
tions. Edgar  Allan  Poe  is  "assimilat- 
ed" when  we  are  told  how  "the  great 
continent  of  promise  would  renew  in 
France  the  glories  that  were  Greece, 
and  the  grandeur  that  was  Rome;" 
and  Wordsworth,  when  the  authors 
meditate  on  "Old,  far-off^  unhappy 
things."  These  two  changes  can  only 
be  unconsidered  trifles  to  the  author  of 
them;  for  they  amount  merely  to  the 
substitution  of  the  plural  for  the  singu- 
lar in  one  case,  and  the  transposition 
of  adjectives  in  the  other.  Yet  neither 
mistake  could    possibly    be   made   by 


anyone  with  true  poetic  intuition. 
Both  are  of  the  same  significant  kind 
as  this  stray  newspaper  perversion — 

"Ah  Love !  in  truth,  half  ice,  half  fire; 
And  all  a  wonder  and  a  brave  desire  ! " — 

where  one  incorrect  vowel-sound  makes 
all  the  difi'erence  between  harmony  and 
discord;  except,  of  course,  to  tone-deaf 
ears.  The  crowning  glory  of  "as- 
similation" is  reached  when  a  passage 
from  the  Bible  is  so  much  improved 
that  it  will  actually  bear  comparison, 
on  perfectly  equal  terms,  with  one  tak- 
en from  "The  Seats  of  the  Mighty." 
Here  is  the  revised  quotation  from  the 
Bible,  as  it  appears  in  "Old  Quebec": 
"The  savage  Indian  with  his  reeking 
tomahawk  might  break  through  and 
steal,  the  moth  and  rust  of  evil  admin- 
istration might  wear  away  the  fortunes 
of  New  France  .  .  ."  And  here  is 
the  revised  version  of  the  "  Seats  of 
the  Mighty":  "A  vague  melancholy 
marked  the  line  of  [Wolfe's]  tall  un- 
gainly figure  .  •  .  and  a  chin,  falling 
away  from  an  affectionate  sort  of 
mouth,  made,  by  an  antic  of  nature, 
the  almost  grotesque  setting  of  those 
twin  furnaces  [Anglice  "eyes")  of  dar- 
ing resolve;  which,  in  the  end,  fulfilled 
the  yearning  hopes  of  England. "  Com- 
pare this  with  Thackeray's  little  in- 
cidental sketch,  written  long  before 
Wolfe's  life  had  been  fully  revealed 
by  modern  research!  But  Thackeray 
wrote  literature. 

"Assimilated"  French  is  a  thing  to 
set  one's  teeth  on  edge.  We  would  ven- 
ture to  suggest  that  Sir  Gilbert  Parker 
might  save  a  great  deal  of  very  dis- 
tressing trouble  by  imitating  the  in- 
genious undergraduate  who  headed  his 
Greek  paper  with  a  neatly  drawn  pill- 
box, filled  with  accents,  and  labelled, 
"to  be  used  at  the  discretion  of  the  ex- 
aminer." For  he  uses  accents  where 
they  are  quite  right,  as  in  RtcolLet^ 
while  leaving  them  out  in  such  expres- 
sions as  Bois  hri^les^  where  the  want  of 
them  changes  the  meaning  from  "half- 
breeds"  to  what  might  be  mistaken  for 
an  impatient  apostrophe  to  the  camp- 
fire  I  Of  course,  everyone  in  the  French 
army   is   given  a  superabundance   of 


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265 


**acutes" — Ripentigny^  Ramdeay^  and 
soon.  But  such  **foreigneering"things 
are  carefully  removed  from  the  names 
of  British  officers  like  Barre  and 
MontresoK  One  poor  s  is  all  that  is 
allowed  for  the  gentilhommes  who 
"gave  themselves  to  pick  and  spade.*' 
And  the  innocent  coijfe  poudre  (!) 
of  the  "seigneur's  wife"  is  mas- 
sacred in  cold  blood,  with  the  most 
heartless  indifference  to  the  claims  of 
the  female  sex.  But  it  is  in  his  tran- 
scription of  the  famous  epitaph  on 
Montcalm  that  Sir  Gilbert  Parker  has 
surpassed  even  himself.  '^Honneur  a 
Montcalm:  le  Destin,  en  lui  d^robant 
la  Victoire,  I'a  r^compens^  par  une 
Morle  gorieuse ! "  We  always  used  to 
think  that  Montcalm's  great  recom- 
pense was  a  glorious  death ;  but  this  up- 
to-date  authority  assures  us  that  it  real- 
ly consisted  of  a  splendid  female  corpse ! 

As  for  Folklore,  Sir  Gilbert  Parker 
seems  to  have  no  conception  of  the 
complete  difference  between  the  per- 
sonal lyric  and  the  impersonal  folk- 
song. And  as  all  folklore  lives  on 
longest  in  remote  country  places,  and 
withers  away  in  the  unsympathetic  at- 
mosphere of  towns,  it  is  rather  unfor- 
tunate that  he  invites  us  to  listen  for 
the  old  songs  'Mown  by  St.  Roch  or  up 
by  Ville  Marie,"  f.^.,  in  Quebec  and 
Montreal,  the  two  least  likely  spots  in 
the  whole  of  French  Canada.  What 
on  earth  does  he  mean  by  a  ''crude 
epic  of  some  valiant  atavar?"  Are  we 
to  hail  him  as  a  second  "coiner  of  a 
word  unknown  to  Keats" — not  to  men- 
tion the  great  new  Oxford  dictionary  ? 
Or  is  atavar  only  his  "  assimilation  "  of 
avatar^  In  this  case  we  might  remind 
him  that  the  crudest  epic  of  the  first 
avatar  of  Vishnu  tells  how  the