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THE 


Canadian  Magazine 


OF    POLITICS,   SCIENCE, 
ART    AND     LITERATURE 


VOL.  XXVIII 

NOVEMBER,  1906— APRIL,   1907,   INCLUSIVE 


TORONTO 

THE   ONTARIO    PUBLISHING    CO.,  LIMITED 

1907 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  XXVIII 


NOVEMBER,  1906— APRIL,  1907 


:  FRONTISPIECES  page 

Grecian  Stadium,  The From  a  Photograph  2 

Communicants,  The Painting  by  Jules  Breton  98 

Rural  Highway,  A From  a  Photograph  210 

Sadler's  Wells  Theatre From  an  Old  Engraving  314 

Basketry  on  Exhibition From  a  Photograph  418 

Christ  and  the  Magdalen 522 

ARTICLES 

.Athens — Ancient  and  Modern Illustrated E.  L.  Howe  3 

American  Capital  and  Canadian  Resources E.  VV.  Johnson  150 

Artists,  Canadian,  Abroad Illustrated Wm.  H.  Ingram  218 

Art,  a  Comparison  in Illustrated Randolph  Carlyle  276 

Advertising  and  Social  Evolution J .  D.  Logan  330 

Ancient  Art  Modernised,  An Illustrated Margaret  E.  Henderson  421 

Art,   Basketry Illustrated Margaret  E.  Henderson  421 

Armoury,   King  Edward's  Collection Illustrated Mortimer  Vernon  441 

Allan  Line Illustrated Randolph  Carlyle  481 

Awakening  of  Spring,  The S.  T.  Wood  578 

Athletics,   Professionalism  in  College Cyrus  MacMillan  593 

Are  Our  Indians  Pagans? W .  E.  H.  Stokes  602 

Benjamin  Franklin Rev.  R.  F.  Dixon  71 

British  Civil  Service,  The H.  Linton  Eccles  120 

Beauty,  Types  of Illustrated H.  S.  Scott  Harden  273 

Basketry Illustrated Margaret  E.  Henderson  421 

Britain  of  the  South,  The Illustrated T.  E.  Taylor  445 

Canadian  Celebrities.     No.  75. — Benj.amin  Rand,  Ph.D John  E.  Chapman  16 

v^iviL  Service,   British H .  Linton  Eccles  120 

Canadia.x  Resources  Plus  American  Capital E.  W .  Johnson  150 

CoUxVTRv  Clubs,  C.\.\'adi.jin Illustrations 153 

Chocolates,  The  Making  of Illustrated Norman  Patterson  161 

Canadian  Artists  Abroad Illustrated Willtam  H.  Ingram  218 

Can.\da's  Place  in  The  Empire A.  E.  McPhillips  235 

Characteristic  Types  of  Beauty Illustrated H .  S.  Scott  Harden  273 

Co.MP.ARisON  IN  Art,  A Illustrated Ratidolph  Carlyle  276 

Can.\d.\'s  Cha.mpion  Choir Illustrated E.  R.  Parkhurst  343 

Canada's  New  Immigrant Illustrated Saint  N.  Sing  and 

J.  Barclay  Williams  383 

'Can.\dian  Nationality Ira  A .  Mackay  432 

Celebrated  Coalport  Chin.v Illustrated Mortimer  Phillips  465 

CoALHORT  China Illustrated Mortimer  Phillips  465 

Christmas  Customs  in  England Illustrated Sarah  A.  Tooley  124 

Decoying  the  Golden  Eye Illustrated Bonnycastle  Dale  526 

Domestic  Problem Illustrated Mary  Spafjord  545 

Eddy-,   Mrs Adelaide  P.  Fitch  223 

Empire,  Canada's  Place  in  the A.  E.  McPhillips  235 

Education  in  Canada W.  Frank  Hathaway  237 

Emily  Montague,  History  of,  A  Review.. Illustrated Ida  Burwash  252 

Emperor  at  Work  and  at  Play,  An Illustrated Special  Correspondent  320 

Epoch  in  Canadian  Shipping,  An Illustrated Randolph  Carlyle  48\ 

Fort  William Illustrated J  T^-  Lumby  33 

Fr,\ncis   Joseph,  Emperor With  Portrait Special  Correspondent  320 

Gatew.w  of  the  North,  The Illustrated H.  A.  Cody  337 

Governor-Generalship,  The = H'.  D.  Lighthall  372 

'Germ   Killing Illustrated Angusttis  Bridle  377 

Governor -Generalship,  The C.  F.  Deacon  499 


CONTENTS  ii; 

PAGE 

Golden-Eye   Dlck Illuslrated Bonnycastle  Dale  526 

Harvest,   A  Western Myra  J .  Willson  67 

Helena  Coleman — A  New  Canadian  Poet \V .  T.  Allison  4U4 

Hindus,   New  Immigrant Illustrated J .  Barclay  Williams  and 

Saint  N.  Sing  383 

How  Mackenzie  Failed John  Charlton  558 

In  the  Haunts  of  the  Rail Illustrated Bonnycastle  Dale  11 

Indlans,  Are  Our,   Pagans? II'.  E.  If.  Stokes  602 

Jerusalem  and   its  Environments Illustrated Jean  Tempter  99 

Joseph  Howe,   Recollections  of Illustrated Emily  P.  Heaver  278 

King's  Highway,  The Illustrated Jane  Lavender  2 12 

King  Edward's  Expensive  Hobby Illustrated Mortimer  Vernon  441 

Linking  of  Montreal  and  Toronto,  The.. Illustrated 11  .  Amot  Craick  40 

Loyalty,  Precedence  of E .  Blake  Crojton  .365 

Love,   A  Shrine  of Illustrated H .  S.  Scott  Harden  575 

Montreal,  Linking  With  Toronto Illustrated W .  Amot  Craick  40 

Maki.vg  of  Chocolates,  The Illustrated Norman  Patterson  161 

Mother  of  Christian  Science,  The Adelaide  P.  Pitch  223 

Military  Trai.ning Illustrated .  .  .  .Lt.-Col.  11'.  H.  Merritt  257,  361 

Mendelssohn  Choir Illustrated E.  R.  Parkhurst  343 

Malta  and  the  Maltese Illustrated H .  S.  Scott  Harden  470 

Mackenzie,   Alexander John  Charlton  558 

New  Canadian  Poet,  A — Portrait  of  Helena  Coleman II'.  7".  Allison  404 

Natio.vality',  Canadian Ira  A.  Mackay  432 

A'ew  Zealand Illustrated T.  E.  Taylor  445 

Newfthndland  and  the    Dominion T.  A.]\'ightman  458 

Old  Christmas  Customs  in  England Illustrated Sarah  A.  Tooley  124 

Old-Time  Novel,  An Illustrated Ida  Buruash  252 

Opsonins  in  Can.ada Illustrated  .  .  .Augustus  Bridle  377 

Port  of  Western  Canada,  The Illustrated J.  R  Lumby  33 

PatnterTllustr.^tor,  a.... Two  reproductions  of  drawings  by  R.  Caton  Woodville  135 

Pl.\ys  of  the  Se.\son Illustrated John  E.  ll'ebher  171 

Patriotic  Military  Training Illustrated.  .  .  .Lt.-Col.  W.  H.  Merritt,  257.  361 

Precedence  of  Lov.\lty,  The E.  Blake  Croftvn  -565 

Poetry:   Scottish-Canadian Illustrated William  Campbell  585 

Profession.alism  in  College  Athletics Cyrus  MacMillan  593 

R.\iL.   In  the  Haunts  of  the Illustrated Bonnycastle  Dale  11 

R.  C.\TON  \\'ooDviLLE — Two  REPRODUCTIONS  OF  DRAWINGS R.  Caton  Woodville  135 

Recollections  of  Joseph  Howe Illustrated Emily  P.  Weaver  278 

Some  Phases  of  Student  Life A.  E.  Clark  18 

Student  Life,  Some  Phases  of A.  E.  Clark  18 

Some  .Sidelights  on  Benjamin  Franklin Rev.  R.  E.  Dixon  71 

Some  Canadian  Country  Clubs Full-page  Illustrations 1-53 

Stage,  The Illustrated   John  E.  Webber  171 

Stage  of  Former  D.\ys,  The Illustrated Goldwin  Smith  315 

Social  Evolutio.n  .\nd  Advertising J.  D.  Logan  330 

Swede  Girls  for  Canadian  Homes Illustrated Mary  Spafford  545 

Shrine  of  Love,  A Illustrated H .  Scott  Harden  575 

Spring S.  I\  ]\'ood  578 

Scottish -Canadian  Poetry- Illustrated William  Campbell  oSo 

Toronto,  Linking  with  Montreal Illustrated W.  Amot  Craick  40 

Toronto:   A  Turn  in  Its  History' Goldwin  Smith  523  - 

Totem,  A  Story  of Illu.strated Harold  Sands  550 

Western  Harvest,  A Myra  J.  WilLfon  67 

Worry — The  Disease  of  the  Age Dr.  C.  If.  Saleeby,  118,  225,  347,  452,  537 

White  Pass  Railway Illustrated H.  A.  Cody  337 

Woodpecker's  Revenge,  The Illustrated Harold  Sands  550 

FICTION 

An  Editorial  Rainbow G.   .\I.  L.  Broun  29 

Black  F"ox  of  St.  \'oltaire.  The -S.    A.    White  462 

Barry  the  Bad Jean  Bleweit  553 

Brown  Jug,  A Don    Graeme  622 

Canthooks  and  He.^rts Bradford  K.  Daniels  282 

Flight  to  Flamel.\nd,  The Illustrated E.  P.  Medley  45,  110 

Glove  Stakes,  The I!'.  .4.  Eraser  179 

Grim  Irony-  of  Luck.  The Prrceral  'r''-'^-^  2:^" 


iv  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Girl  from  Georgia,  The 11'.    .4.    Fraser  265 

His  New  Chance Mabel     Burkholder  241 

How  W'E  Built  the  Church Walter  Mills  310 

Habitant's  \'alentine,  The Grace  Winnijred  Boright  375 

Last  Turn  of  the  Screws,  The '.  .■ Andrew  Coltish  Smith  22 

Lost  Earl  of  Ellan Mrs.  Campbell  Praed  53 

Little  Immigrant,  A Alice    Jones  147 

Larraby's  Lope Peregrine     Acland  599 

Mohawk's  Revenge,  The Thomas  F.  Astlc  289 

Miss  Pontigrieve's  Parrot Beatrice  Rosenthal  354 

Mamie  in  Venice Albert   R.    Carman  436 

Motors  That  Pass  in  the  Night C.  .V.  and  A.  M.  Williamson  561 

Madame  de  Montier's  Cream  Puffs Mary  S.    Williams  581 

Other  Side  of  the  Fence,  The : .  .  .  .  Isabel   E.    Mackav  246 

Parting  of  the  Ways,  The L.  M.  Montgomery  335 

Pride  of  the  Penningtons N .  de  Bertrand  Lugrin  473 

Recall  of  the  River,  The Mabel  Dean  Macleod  427 

Unexpected  Surrender,  An Owen  E.  McGillicuddy  491 

Uncle  Tom's  Prototype William   Harrison  530 

Weaning  of  Arthur  Browning,  The A.    R.    Carman  326 

POETRY 

Autumn  Offering,  An Martha  E  Richardson  15 

At  William  MacLennan's  Grave Duncan    Campbell   Scott  151 

At  Christmastide Helen  B.  Lough  251 

At  the  Grave  of  Mum J.  E.B.  McCready  461 

April " '.H.  Isabel  Graham  544 

Appeal  of  Spring,  An Ivan  L.  Wright  601 

Cattle  Country,  The ,. , E.  Pauline  Johnson  240 

Contrast.  The E.  M.  Yeoman  577 

De  Donkey-DebblE 'James  P.  Haverson  329 

Experience Mabel   Burkholder  371 

Four  Winds,  The Spencer  Freer  234 

FuRREN  Pete H.  A.  Cody  496 

Folly Minnie  E.  Henderson  543 

Goal,  The Muriel  A.  Armstrong  134 

Lox^e's  Chains E.  M.  Yeoman  500 

Love's  Whisper Donald  A.  Fraser  529 

Meeting,  The Isabel  E.  Mackav  325 

My  Heaven.  . T.  Muriel  Merrill  431 

New  Year,  The W.    Inglis    Morse  236 

Night Minnie  E.  Henderson  435 

Passage,  The Jean    Blewett  109 

Sisters  of  Sorrow W .  Inglis  Morse  39 

Springtime  L\t?ic,  A W.    Inglis   Morse  552 

Thoughtlessness Donald  A.  Fraser  73 

Turning  of  the  Glass,  The Newton  MacTavish  211 

Thoughts " Mabel   Burkholder  469 

AVhen  Cupid  Sailed Muriel  A.  Armstrong  10 

Winter  A\'ood,  The Virna    Sheard  419 

Winter  :  A  Reverie /.  Harry  Smith  480 

Woodland  Meadow,  The Douglas   Roberts  536 

Where  Two  Roads  Meet Annie  L.  Jack  574 

DEPAJITMENTS 

About  New  Books 85,     199,    298,  396 

Canada  for  Canadians 95,  207 

Current  Events  Abroad 74,    187,    291,    392,    501,  605 

Idle  Moments 90,   204,  310 

Oddities  and  Curiosities : 93 

People  and  .Affairs 82,  195,  306,  409 

Woman's  Sphere 78,  191,  294,  400,  505,  609 

The  Way  of  Letters 513,  613 

At  the  Front  Window 509,  618 

Canadian  Celebrities: 

No.  I'l — Benjamin  Rand,  Ph.D John  E.  Chapman  16 


THE 


Canadian  Magazine 


VOL.  X.WIIl 


TORONTO,  NOVEMBER,   1906 


No.   1 


Athens— Ancient  and  Modern 


By  E.  L.  HOWE 


jHE  charm  of  travel  around 
the  Mediterranean  lies  in 
the  historic  splendour  of 
the  past.  On  and  near  its 
shore  are  man}-  battlefields  of 
the  world's  greatest  generals — Alexander, 
Hannibal  and  Caesar;  the  home  of  phil- 
osophers—Socrates and  Plato;  of  poets 
and  orators — Homer,  Virgil,  Cicero  and 
Demosthenes.  Nowhere  is  this  more  felt 
as  when  approaching  the  "  Isles  of  Greece." 
The  harbour  of  Piraeus,  protected  from 
the  sea  by  nature,  is  a  picture  of  the  ancient 
and  modern  side  by  side.  The  unreflect- 
ing grey  of  torpedo  boats,  cruisers,  and  the 
gleaming  white  of  w'arships  on  [larade, 
is  in  strange  contrast  with  the  tomb  of 
Themistocles  he^vn  in  the  living 
rock,  and  the  Bay  of  Salaniis  to 
the  left,  where  thf  Persian  fleet 
was  destroyed  by  Athen's  proud 
leader.  The  Bay  of  Piraeus 
w'ould  be  exceedingly  interesting 
in  itself  were  it  not  that  the  eye 
has  already  caught  s'ght  of  the 
distant  Athenian  Acropolis. 
From  the  ship's  top  deck  you 
command  a  view  of  wide  com- 
pass stretching  far  inland.  To 
the  left  lies  the  Bay  of  Eleusis, 
and  to  the  east  the  waters  of 
Phaleron.  In  the  distance  the 
Hymettus  Hills  shut  off  the  view- 
to  the  north-east,  while  nearer, 
in  solitary  grandeur.  Mount 
Lycabettus  stands  as  sentinel 
over  Athens.  To  the  north  of 
the  Attica  Plain,  Mount  Parnes 
forms  the  boundary,  and  next 
to  it  lies  Pentelicus  with  its 
inexhaustible  supply  of  the  fin- 
est white  marble.  There  being 
3 


little  to  attract  the  tourist's  attention  at 
the  seaport  city,  we  started  in  one  of  the 
small  compartments  of  a  train,  passing 
along  the  road  once  famous  by  the 
"Long  Walls"  towards  the  "City  of  the 
Violet  Crown." 

The  first  surprise  you  meet  on  the  Grecian 
coast  is  to  see  the  number  of  classical 
Greek  words  in  everyday  use.  The  fa- 
miliarity of  a  daily  paper  '^  0XP0y02'' 
(The  Times)  thrust  at  you  through  the  car 
window  with  its  advertisements,  head  lines, 
and  locals,  carries  the  mind  back  to  the 
Greek  Grammar  of  the  High  School,  while 
the  words  ''0J02"  (Hodos)  on  the 
street  comer,  "niPAKTS"  (Piraeus) 
on   the    station     front    unite    the     dead 


THE    MOXr.MEXT    OF    LYSICRATES 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


past  with  the  Uving  present. 
Lazily  the  little  siren-screeching 
engine  brought  us  through  olive 
groves,  past  little  hamlets  show- 
ing traces  of  classical  beauty  in 
their  tumble-down  condition,  a 
Greek  guard  at  some  w-ayside 
station,  and  yonder  a  horse  turn- 
ing an  old-fashioned  waterwheel 
bringing  up  buckets  of  water  to 
irrigate  the  gardens.  None  too 
soon  did  we  reach  the  capital, 
the  one-time  home  of  the  world's 
culture. 

The  general  aspect  of  Athens 
is  that  of  a  white,  glittering  city. 
Marble  buildings  stretching  out 
over  the  Attica  Plain  are  in- 
tensified by  the  beauty  of  olive 
trees  and  gardens  circling 
around.  The  streets  are  broad 
and  clean,  similar  to  those  of 
Southern  Italy,  but  cleaner.  The 
centre  of  life  is  around  the  Place 
de  la  Constitution,  where  fine 
hotels,  tourist  offices  and  stores 
at  once  attract  the  stranger. 
Lunch  at  the  Hotel  de  la  Grand 
Bretagne  is  thoroughly  Athenian. 
The  butter  is  fresh  like  rich 
whipped  cream,  and  the  honey 
of  H}'mettus  is  so  tempting  that 
a  can  must  be  bought  to  take 
home  to  friends.  Under  trees  and 
awnings,  on  the  pavements  and 
in  doorways,  little  groups  of 
people  seem  to  be  continually 
drinking  coftee  out  of  small 
white  cups.  Here  is  the  King's 
Palace,  a  huge  white  structure  of 
limestone  haAing  a  beautiful 
garden  in  the  rear.  The  Acad- 
emy of  Science,  a  noble  building 
of  PenteUc  marble  of  classic 
Greek  style,  the  exterior  adorned 
with  sculptured  figures  and  con- 
taining an  interesting  gallery  of 
mural  paintings.  In  front  stands 
two  lofty  Ionic  columns  bearing 
statues  of  Athena  and  Apollo, 
and  sitting  figures  of  Plato  and 
Socrates  adorn  the  main  entrance. 

To  take  in  the  full  propor- 
tion and  beauty  of  Athens  it 
is  well  to  view  the  modern  citv, 


ATHENS     AXCIEM    AM)    MODKKN 


encircling  the  hislcjric  ruins,  from 
Lycaljettus  Hill,  i,ooo  feel  high, 
and  then,  driving  in  a  carriage 
round  the  Acropolis  and  its  vi- 
cinity, both  position  and  detail 
can  be  more  correctly  ascertained. 
It  is  hard  to  describe  one's  feel- 
ings when  seeingfor  the  first  time 
the  Parthenon  crowned  Acropolis. 
This  is  certainly  the  centre  of 
ancient  Athens.  It  is  a  ledge  of 
limestone  about  200  feet  high,  a 
thousand  feet  long,  and  over  four 
hundred  feet  wide,  lying  on  the 
south  side  of  Modern  Athens, 
and  overlooking  the  site  where 
once  stood  the  old  city.  The 
outer  wall  of  rock  is  to-day  very 
nearly  perpendicular,  wath  the 
e.xception  of  the  south-west, 
where  the  approaches  were  built. 
Leaving  the  carriages,  our  part\- 
conducted  by  an  intelligent  and 
painstaking  guide,  we  ascended 
a  flight  of  steps  and  entered  the 
Propylaea,  the  true  portal  of  the 
Acropolis.  Nearly  five  hundred 
years  before  Christ,  Athens, 
under  the  mighty  rule  of  Pericles, 
rose  to  the  highest  point  of  the 
splendour  of  the  Golden  Age. 
No  longer  used  as  a  fortress  the 
Acropolis  was  chosen  as  the  site 
for  the  most  lavish  expenditiu^e 
to  celebrate  the  triumph  of  art 
and  the  mystic  rites  of  Pagan 
worship.  Of  that  magnificent 
pile,  the  work  of  Phidias,  these 
pathetic  ruins  survive  for  the 
admiration  and  ideal  model  of 
artists  and  builders  the  w'orld 
over.  Here  was  set  up  the 
wonderful  statue  of  Athena, 
wrought  of  ivory  and  gold,  a 
reduced  copy  of  which  is  an  ob- 
ject of  admiration  in  the  National 
Museum. 

The  Propylsea  has  a  front  of 
175  feet,  containing  a  central 
gateway  occupying  the  west  of 
the  Acropolis.  You  can  see 
through  five  openings  in  the 
central  structure,  and  on  each 
side  were  the  colonnades,  origi- 
nallv  crowned  bv   a    frieze  and 


THE    CANADLVN    MAGAZINE 


ATHEXS — THE    ACADEMV 


pediment,  now  destroyed.  On  the  left  is  a 
chamber  in  the  north  wing  intended  as  a 
gallery  for  votive  ofiferings.  On  the  right 
one  may  ascend  a  flight  of  marble  steps  to 
the  temple  of  Nike.  Once  within  the 
Propylaea  you  huny  across  a  gradual  slope 
of  rock  and  pass  through  fragments  of 
statuary,  overturned  bases,  broken  shafts, 
one  time  belonging  to  that 
"forest  of  statues"  when 
Athens  in  her  zenith  was  a 
dazzling  splendour,  but  in  her 
fall  left  lessons  to  the  world. 
In  \ain  you  wish  to  break 
off  a  piece  of  frieze  or  coloured 
decoration  of  column  lying 
prone  upon  the  ground,  but 
some  vigilant  Greek  guard 
is  liable  to  ajjpear  at  any 
moment  to  prevent  carrying 
away  souvenirs.  The  modern 
spirit  of  Athens  has  recovered 
from  the  plundering  and 
bondage  of  the  Turk,  and  is 
aiming  to  render  her  name 
still  more  immortal  hv  restor- 
ing to  some  extent  the  glorv 
of  former  da  vs. 

Crossing  to  the  riglit  the 
lovely  and  majestic  l)eautv 
of  the  Parthenon  fascinates 
the  gaze.  Going  up  three  steps 
to  a  platform  225  feet  long, 
100  feet  broad,  you  are  sur- 
rounded bv  columns.     Fortv- 


six  in  all  decorated  the  exterior,  seventeen 
on  the  side  and  eight  on  each  end.  The 
front  and  back  of  the  temple  were  sur- 
mounted by  triangular  pediments  in 
which  were  groups  of  marble  in  high 
relief.  In  the  fifth  century  the  structure 
was  changed  into  a  Christian  church  and 
Byzantine  mural  paintings  of  that  time  are 


THE    .\RCH    OF    HADKIAX 
Tliis  was  60  feet  high  and  45  feet  wide 


ATHENS— ANCIENT    AND    MODEliN 


ATHENS — THE   NATIONAL   MUSEUM 


Still  traceable.  In  1460  it  was  trans- 
formed into  a  mosque  by  the  Turks  who 
added  a  minaret  at  its  south-east  angle. 
Subsequently,  in  the  struggle  between  the 
Mohammedans  and  the  Venetians,  the 
Parthenon,  being  used  as  a  powder  maga- 
zine, was  blown  up  by  sacrilegious  hands, 
leaving  in  shattered  ruins  the  revered 
temples,  shrines  and  colonnades.  In  the 
accompanying  picture  the  reader  will 
notice  the  corners  of  the  marble  blocks 
broken  off  in  order  that  the  Turks  could 
gouge  in  and  take  out  the  lead  used  for 
cement,  to  make  ammunition. 

Close  to  the  Propylaea  on  the  north  side 
of  the  Acropolis  rose  the  Erechtheum, 
the  most  venerated  of  all  Athenian  sanc- 
tuaries and  connected  with  the  oldest 
religious  history  of  the  city.  The  ruins 
still  exist  sufficiently  to  allow  us  to  form 
a  very  correct  idea  of  its  external  structure. 
Its  architecture  being  Ionic  was  different 
from  the  Parthenon.  Instead  of  porches 
there  are  wings  or  vestibules.  The  cele- 
brated portico  of  the  Caryatides,  or  female 
tagures  in  place  of  columns,  is  renowned  in 
the  history  of  art  as  one  of  the  most  charm- 
ing creations  of  its  kind.  The  roof  of  the 
portico    is    supported   bv   six   figures    of 


maidens,  on  whose  heads  are  basket-like 
ornaments  bearing  the  entablature.  One 
of  the  statues  was  carried  off  by  Lord 
Elgin  and  placed  in  the  British  Museum. 
In  consequence  part  of  the  roof  gave  way. 
It  was  replaced  by  a  terra-cotta  Caryatide, 
as  was  also  the  arms  and  head  of  another 
figure.  Our  guide  pointed  out  two  mem- 
orable spots  within  the  Erechtheum,  the 
one  where  Athena,  the  chosen  tutelary 
divinity  of  the  young  city,  planted  the  olive 
tree,  and  the  other  where  the  salt  spring 
gushed  forth  when  Poseidon  smote  the 
earth  with  his  trident. 

Another  interesting  ruin  lying  on  the 
south  side  of  the  Acropolis  is  the  Theatre 
of  Dionysius,  the  cradle  of  the  Greek 
drama.  The  Auditorium,  capable  of 
seating  30,000  people,  rose  gradually 
in  semi-circular  form.  A  low  balustrade 
of  marble  separated  the  spectators  from 
the  stage.  The  lowest  tier  of  marble 
seats,  deftly  curved  and  shaped,  was  reserv- 
ed for  their  respective  occupants  whose 
chiselled  names  still  show.  Sitting  in 
one  belonging  to  some  aristocratic 
"IEP0KHPrK02"  (Hierokerukos)  and 
looking  down  upon  the  marble  base  in 
which  stood  the  chair  of  the    Emperor 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


THE    RUIXS    OF    THE    PARTHEXOX 

In  the  fifth  century  it  was  changed  into  a  Christian  church;  in  the  fifteenth  into  a  Turkish  mosque, 
subsequently  it  was  used  as  a  powder  magazine  and  blown  up 


Hadrian,  I  allowed  a  friend  to  take  a 
snapshot. 

Returning  to  our  carriage  we  crossed  a 
bridge  over  the  Ilisus,  and  came  to  the 
entrance  of  the  Stadium.  This  was  the 
famous  athletic  ground  planned  by  Ly- 
curgus  about  330  B.C.,  and  renewed  in 
140  A.D.  by  Herod  Atticus.  Mount 
PentiHcus  afforded  glistening  white  marble 
for  rows  of  seats  on  all  sides  of  a  natural 
hollow,  accommodating  50,000  spectators. 
During  the  dark  ages  the  marble  was  burnt 
for  lime.  A  wealthy  and  patriotic  Greek 
has  immortalised  his  name  by  restoring 
the  vast  stadium  at  a  tremendous  cost. 
The  picture  with  its  thousands  of  people 
in  holiday  attire  gives  a  good  idea  of  the 
present  hereditary  love  for  athletic  games. 
The  length  of  the  course  is  a  stade  (600 
Greek  feet). 

No  one  ever  seeing  the  Temple  of  Jupi- 
ter Olympus,  near  the  right  bank  of  the 
Ilisus,  can  forget  the  lonely  grandeur  of 
its  massive  time-stained  thirteen  columns, 
guarded  by  two  sentinel  columns  that 
stand  soHtary  and  apart  from  the  rest. 
In  size,  splendour  and  beauty, this  Temple 


excelled  all  other  Athenian  structures.  As 
far  back  as  530  B.C.,  Pisistratus  planned 
it  in  Corinthian  style  and  with  immense 
sums  of  money,  one  architect  succeeding 
another  till  the  building  called  "A  Struggle 
with  Time,"  was  finally  completed  by 
Hadrian  in  130  A.D.  Aristotle  speaks  of 
it  as  a  work  of  despotic  grandeur,  and 
equal  to  the  Pyramids  of  Egypt.  The 
exterior  was  decorated  by  about  120  fluted 
columns  over  sixty-one  feet  high  and 
more  than  five  and  a-half  feet  in  diameter. 
It  is  354  feet  long  and  171  feet  broad,  and 
contained  the  celebrated  statue  of  the 
Olympian  Jupiter  in  ivory  and  gold,  the 
work  of  Phidias. 

Another  Temple  of  significance,  which 
must  not  be  omitted,  is  the  Theseum,  a 
short  distance  from  the  upper  railway 
station.  It  is  the  best  preserved  archi- 
tectural monument  of  Greek  art  in  the 
world.  It  was  both  a  Temple  and  sub- 
sequentlv  the  tomb  of  Theseus.  This 
structure  is  of  Doric  style,  showing  dignity 
as  well  as  solidity  and  strength.  Time 
has  stained  its  columns  in  brown  and  red. 
For  centuries  it  was  a  Christian  church. 


A  rilKXS— AN(  IKXT    AND    .MODKRX 


THE  ACROPOLIS    AND    THE   TEMPLE   OF  JUPITER   OLYMPUS 
"Aristotle  speaks  of  it  as  a  work  of  despotic  grandeur,  and  equal  to  the  Pyramids  of  Egypt" 


and  was  dedicated  to  St.  George,  the  chiv- 
alrous hero  of  the  "dark  ages,"  as  The- 
seus had  been  of  the  "dark  ages"  of  Attic 
history. 

Not  far  from  the  ruins  of  Jupiter  there 
stands  the  Arch  of  Hadrian,  which  form- 
erly marked  the  boundary  of  the  ancient 
city  from  that  which  grew  up  in  the  time 
of  Hadrian.  The  gateway  is  60  feet  high 
and  45  feet  wide,  with  an  arched  passage 
20  feet  in  width.  Above  this  is  a  second 
story  of  Corinthian  column  supporting  an 
entablature  and  pediment.  Hard  by  is  a 
beautiful  white  statue  of  Lord  Byron, 
whose  enthusiasm  and  love  for  Greece 
led  him  to  plead  her  cause  and  sympathy 
in  verse  before  the  world. 

It  would  become  tedious  to  mention  all 
the  ruins  that  speak  of  Athens'  ancient 
glory.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  not  in 
any  land  were  gods  honoured  more.  Her 
strong  faith  in  mythology  turned  her  re- 
ligion into  art  and  monumental  splendour. 

Besides  these  wonders  of  art,  we  must 
visit  the  hills  of  the  Pny.x,  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  to  the  west  of  the  Acropolis,  a  place 
of  public  assembly  of  a  large  semi-cir- 
cular area.     This  is  faced  with  a   lime- 


stone wall,  black  with  age,  having  a 
pedestal  carved  out  of  the  rock.  Ascend- 
ing broad  and  wide  steps  we  stand  upon 
the  spot,  our  minds  recalling  the  time 
when  some  six  thousand  Athenian  citizens 
here  assembled  to  hear  a  Demosthenes. 

Close  by  is  a  grotto  or  small  room 
hewn  out  of  the  face  of  the  rock  to  which 
tradition  sadly  points  as  the  prison  of 
Socrates.  The  little  room,  now  furnished 
with  an  iron  door,  has  a  circular  opening 
leading  up  to  the  top,  around  which  the 
vouths  of  Athens,  it  is  said,  congregated 
to  listen  to  his  words  of  wisdom. 

The  last  place  we  visit  is  ]Mars  Hill,  a 
rocky  eminence  at  the  western  end  of  the 
Acropolis.  Up  a  flight  of  steps  cut  in  the 
almost  precipitous  sides,  we  reach  the 
top,  bare,  flat,  and  without  a  vestige  of  the 
.\reopagus — the  highest  court  of  Athens. 
It  was  here  St.  Paul  stood  when  he  de- 
livered his  address  recorded  in  Acts  17. 
Standing  there  alone,  the  ambassador  of 
a  crucified,  but  resurrected.  Saviour  of  the 
world,  he  could  see  the  whole  city  given 
over  to  idolatry.  That  was  nineteen  cen- 
turies ago.     To-dav,  how  different! 

Then  the  Epicurean  and  Stoic  listened 


10  THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 

curiously  to  Paul  of  Tarsus,  asking  "What  Athenian    vendors,    soldier,    idler,    and 

would  this  babbler  say?"     But,  to-day —  children,  gathered  through  ciuriosity,  as  of 

Palm  Sunday  morning  of  1904,  when  over  old,  when  Paul  preached.     The  opening 

eight  hundred  Christians* of  Canada  and  ^vmn  of  "All  Hail  the  Power  of  Jesus' 

the  United  States,  representing  the  Sun-  ^ame,"  was  sung  in  devout  thankfuhiess 

day  schools  of  the  New  World,  on  a  cruise  ^^  ^j^^  manifold  blessings  of  God  Incar- 

to  the  Holy  Land,  gather  together  upon  ^^^^      ^^^^  ^^^^^^  ^.^^  preached  by  the 

the  mil  of  Mars  to  honour  the  memorv  of  ^^^^    ^^  ^^  ^^  ^^^^^  ^^^^^ 

that  fearless  Apostle  of  old,  and  to  worship  '  ' 

the  same  "Lord  of  Lords  and  King  of  f   eloqueiice   and   power   moved   many 

Kings"— the  steps  to  the   summit    were  hearts.     There  was  one  theme  to  speak 

filled,  and  below  the  carriages  with  their  about  and  that  was  St.  Paul's— "  Jesus 

occupants     stood     near    to     hear.     The  and  the  Resurrection.' 


When  Cupid  Sailed 

BY   MURIEL  .\LBERTA  ARMSTRONG 

T  was  the  fairest  day  of  all  the  year, 
A  morn  of  cloudless  sky  of  deepest  blue, 
And  gentle,  whispering,  perfume-laden  wind, 
And  dew-bathed  woods  of  brightest  verdant  hue. 


I 


We  sailed  upon  a  sun-kissed  sapphire  sea. 
In  Cupid's  boat  with  Cupid  at  the  helm, 

Our  snowy  sails  unfurled  before  the  breeze 
That  blew  us  into  Love's  unknown  realm. 

On,  on  we  sped  along  our  gilded  course, 

'Twas  Cupid's  first  long  cruise  with  Jack  and  me, 

Before  he  merely  stood  upon  the  beach 
And  waved  us  bon  voyage  across  the  sea. 

But  now  the  love-god  was  in  full  command, 
As  o'er  the  foam-wrapped  dancing  waves  we  went. 

Not  heeding  passing  hours  nor  fleeting  time, 
But  lost  in  rapture,  buried  in  content. 

So  all  day  long  we  sailed  the  summer  sea. 
Until  the  gold  ghnts  faded  from  the  sky; 

Then  swiftly  turning,  homeward  bound  we  raced. 
We  three  good  comrades — Cupid,  Jack  and  I. 

And  when  the  gentle,  white-faced  moon  arose 
From  somewhere,  far  behind  the  wooded  hill, 

The  little  winged  sailor  sUpped  away 
Into  the  violet  distance,  calm  and  still. 

And  we — we  two  alone — just  Jack  and  I, 
Stood  on  the  beach,  beside  the  silver  sea, 

And  sighed  because  the  cherub-god  was  gone, 
And  we  were  only  two,  instead  of  three. 


"Eight  light  olive  and  red  and  lilac  spotted  eggs  almost 
filled  the  well-woven  basket" 


In  the  Haunts  of  the  Rail 


By  BONNYCASTLE  DALE 

Photographs  bv  the  Author 


R(j3il  far-ott  Sotilhern  States, 
^vhere  the  warm,  lazy  days 
>hould  have  tempted  the 
\'irginian  Rails  to  remain, 
north  to  Rice  Lake  in  this 
good  old  Canada  of  ours,  where  the  waters 
were  still  covered  with  their  icy  coat,  is  a 
long  migration  and  a  sudden  change,  but 
the  Otonabee  Ri\er  was  in  llood,  and  the 
early  bird  gets  the  best  nesting  place. 
So  over  its  honeycombed  riven  surface, 
past  the  many  islands  in  mid-lake,  they 

11 


sped,  and  dropped  down  with  a  hoarse 
croak  of  satisfaction — right  beside  my 
canoe,  hidden  amid  the  tall  dry  rushes  on 
the  bog  edge. 

I  watched  a  pair  of  richl\ -marked  birds, 
a  study  in  browns,  pick  up  a  few  tiny 
snails,  and  after  peeping  here  and  poking 
there  run  in  inider  the  cover  of  the  rushes. 
Evidently  this  piece  of  floating  bog  was 
their  old  stamping  ground,  for  they  ex- 
amined it  all  over  as  we  do  our  summer 
cottases   after   a   winter's   absence,   each 


12 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


' '  Goin.i 


taking  a  run  to  the  top  of  a  couple  of 
spring  muskrat  houses,  then  returning 
and  telling  one  another  in  rail-bird  talk 
that  everything  was  in  good  shape.  Their 
communicating  was  done  with  a  variety 
of  notes  unusual  in  any  one  bird,  some 
clear  and  reedlike,  others  as  hoarse  as  a 
bullfrog's  bellow,  but  all  too  great  for  the 
small  plump  body  that  uttered  them. 
Suddenly  they  ran  out  on  the  little  black 
point  of  mud  against  which  my  intruding 
canoe  lodged,  and  eyed  me  with  many  a 
start  and  a  croak,  turning  their  bright 
eyes  and  sealing-wax  red  bills  from  side 
to  side.  They  evidently  thought  the  long, 
olive-green  canoe  was  some  great  living 
thing,  half  fish,  half  animal,  for  they 
darted  into  the  rushes  and  were  lost  to 
sight. 

This  piece  of  bog  had  given  me  manv 
pleasant  scenes  and  good  snapshots  in 
my  interesting  work  of  photographing 
the  feathered  game  in  their  natural  haunts, 
for  this  patch  of  black  mud  and  standing 
dry  rush  was  teeming -with  life.  The  two 
large  muskrat  houses,  with  their  colonies 


of  "kittens"  squeahng  inside,  adorned  one 
end;  across  on  the  other,  scarce  ten  yards 
distant,  numbers  of  marsh  wrens  were 
building  their  tiny,  dainty,  round  homes, 
with  a  circle  left  in  each  for  entrance,  and 
ever  as  they  worked  they  creaked  out  their 
harsh  notes  and  held  up  their  little  tails  at 
a  most  ridiculous  angle.  In  a  fnmtic  over- 
working rush  of  energ}-  these  Ijusy  wives 
build  several  more  houses  than  they  need. 
Oh  I  if  there  were  a  matrimonial  agency 
in  the  bird  kingdom,  what  an  excellent 
advertisement  this  would  be  I 

^lany  of  those  scarlet-tipped  >entries  of 
the  marsh — the  red-winged  blackbirds — • 
were  uttering  that  rich  rolling  call  of  theirs 
from  every  tree  and  bush  and  stump  in  all 
these  "drowned  lands,"  while  the  females, 
plainly  clad,  as  all  females  should  be.  were 
busily  building  the  roughly  woven  homes 
amid  the  standing  rushes.  It  is  deeply 
impressed  on  the  mind  of  students  of  the 
feathered  game  that  the  females  not  only 
do  the  housework  and  tend  the  little  ones, 
but  they  save  their  brilliantly-clad  lord  and 
master  all  the  worries  of  house-building 


IN     rHK    liAlNTS    Ol"     I'lIK    KAII. 


13 


and  providiiiii  iov  the  table,  while  he,  care- 
free <oul,  is  daintily  pickini^  tit-bits  of  the 
mar-h,  and  smoothing  his  beautiful 
l)lunuige.  I  fear  to  apply  this  fable  to  a 
lander  race  of  bipeds — lest  the  females 
would  copy  the  bird  kinj^dom,  and  the 
whole  countryside  be  covered  with  houses. 
A  mudhen  sit  watchinu  me  across  the 


swarmed  in  countless  millions,  providin*^ 
manv  davs'  g<K)d  feeding  for  all  the  indus- 
triou>  marsh-dwellers.  With  a  "whirr" 
a  Hooded  -NEerganser  flew  up,  dropped 
gracefully  into  the  water,  stared  at  me  for 
a  moment  with  his  l>lackand  white  "hood" 
(quivering  with  attention,  and  then  with 
alarmed   quack,   rose  and  si)ed  over  the 


'  Goins 


little  pond  wiiile  1  mentall_\-  wandered  as 
above;  a  corn-crake  ran  in  and  oiit  collect- 
ing ^'ild  rice  straw,  crimping  it  by  passing 
it  through  her  bill,  while  her  mate,  with 
his  dapper  little  body  as  brilHant  as  a  paint 
box,  lazily  watched  her,  and  occasionalh" 
refreshed  himself  with  a  juicy  snail.  (I 
believe  I  will  join  this  matrimonially  per- 
fect kingdom).  Everywhere,  from  rush 
root  to  tall  swamp  maple  top.  the  snails 


marsh,  the  bright  April  sun  tJashing  in 
points  off  his  beautiful  plumage.  All 
Nature  was  astir  this  bright  day,  and  earth, 
air  and  water  were  fairly  alive  with  her 
many  animated  wonders. 

Many  a  day  as  the  canoe  wound  in  and 
out  tlirough  these  long  marshes,  stopping 
here  and  there  to  snap  a  rare  sight,  or 
driven  far  in  amid  the  rushes,  when  time 
exposiu"e.  concealed  floating  camera  and 


14 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


"Gonel'' 


unique  results  were  the  order  of  the  day, 
it  has  stopped  beside  the  bog  island  on 
which  the  Virginian  Rails  had  selected  a 
nesting  spot.  Look  ever  so  closely  no 
sign  was  there  to  indicate  its  position.  Of 
all  the  birds  that  carefully  conceal  their 
nests  by  thoroughly  matching  them  with 
the  surroundings,  these  rank  the  highest. 
A  clump  of  rushes,  with  the  tops  inter- 
woven by  growth  and  wind,  had  been 
chosen  and  the  entire  centre  carefully  cut 
and  puUed  out.  In  this  standing,  hollow 
column  was  woven  a  nest,  fitting  so  exactly 
and  matching  the  rushes  so  perfectly  that  it 
was  passed  without  knowledge  time  after 
time,  until  finally  the  female  ran  out  of  the 
two  rush  stalks  that  formed  the  entrance 
and  located  it  for  me.  I  found  she  had 
daily  laid  an  egg,  until  now  eight  light 
oUve  and  red  and  lilac  spotted  ones  almost 
filled  the  well- woven  basket  that  held 
them.  At  my  close  approach  she  again 
ran  off  the  nest,  calling  in  harsh  gutturals 
for  her  mate,  whose  ready,  bold  answer 
sounded  close  at  hand.  ^More  bold  than 
she,  he  stopped  for  a   moment,  uttering 


low  notes,  then  walked  into  the  nest,  and 
after  being  satisfied  the  eggs  were  intact, 
he  emerged  and  eyed  me  with  great  steadi- 
ness, deeply  interested  in  the  camera 
''hide"  I  was  arranging. 

AYTien  it  was  aU  concealed  I  withdrew 
into  a  neighbouring  clump  of  rushes, 
Hghted  my  pipe  and  awaited  the  female's 
return.  In  a  few  minutes  the  long  red 
bill  and  bright  eyes,  and  the  golden  brown 
body  appeared  from  behind  the  rushes  and 
she  stood  nervously  examining  the  camera. 
With  dainty  steps  she  walked  into  focus, 
"clang''  rang  the  curtain  and  I  pre- 
sent you  with  the  camera's  impression  of 
her.  A  long  time  elapsed,  after  my  pad- 
dling up  to  reset  the  floating  machine 
had  driven  her  away,  before  she  returned. 
First  the  long  red  bill  and  bright  eyes 
poked  out  as  a  comedian  does  from  the 
"wings,''  then  she  came  gracefully,  shyly, 
right  out  in  front  of  the  nest — again  the 
shutter  clanged  and  she  turned  and  sped 
for  cover,  giving  me  a  picture  with  an 
excellent  reflection  in  the  water. 

Again,  after  a  wait  that  used  up  a  large 


AN    AUTUMN    0FFP:RING 


15 


stock  of  patience  (for  full}-  two  hour.^elajj.sed 
before  the  little  plum])  hrown  and  buff 
beauty  put  in  an  appearance)  she  sedately 
walked  out  along  the  bending  rushes  that 
wetted  her  greyish  brown  legs,  and  step])ed 
between  the  rush  pillars  of  her  home.  1 
got  her  when  just  the  tail  and  a  retreating 
foot  remained  behind.  This  completes 
the  set  of  pictures  called  ''Going,  Going, 
Gone." 

Three  weeks  later  it  was  hard  work  to 
push  in  as  far  as  the  floating  bog  that  held 
her  nest.  We  did,  but  it  was  empty,  and 
seated  on  the  sunny  muskrat  ''draw-up" 
was  her  lad}-ship  and  five  yellow}-,  greyish, 
browny  little  darlings,  that  lied  with  a 
rapid  pattering  of  feet  over  the  lily  pads 
and  floating  rushes  and  flags,     ^^'ith  man}- 


low  calls  the  mother  quieted  them,  evi- 
dently not  greatly  fearing  the  familiar  long 
olive-green  monster,  with  bobbing  head 
and  paddling  arms.  Then  through  long 
mosquito  haunted  hours  1  waited  for  a 
''snap "  The  mosquitoes  got  it,  not  I,  for 
just  as  the  family  as.sembled  on  the  black 
mud  in  focus,  the  little  ones  a  downy  line, 
the  mother  alert  and  watchful,  the  male 
bird,  well  fed,  dozing  in  the  sunlight  (I 
feel  I  must  join  this  perfect  circle  of  well- 
kept  homes  and  busy  wives),  all  fair  for  a 
good  picture,  out  plunged  a  muskrat 
"kitten"  from  its  subterranean  home,  and 
came  to  the  surface  right  beside  the  Rails. 
Away  the}'  sped,  and  with  a  laugh  at  the 
scurry  of  the  bird?  I  picked  up  my  camera 
and  poled  off. 


An  Autumn  Offering; 

BY    M.A.RTHA    E.    RICHARDSOX 

I'VE  wandered  to-day  on  the  hillside. 

Seeking  rest  after  hours  of  toil; 
I  have  ravaged  each  nook  and  rillside. 
To  bring  you  the  llowery  spoil. 

Here  are  stars  of  the  purple  aster. 
Nodding  plumes  of  the  golden -rod, 

Clusters  white  of  the  plebeian  yarrow, 
Late  plucked  from  the  yellowing  sod. 

Velvet  ct)nes  of  the  crimson  sumach, 
Brittle  boughs  from  the  russet  oak. 

Scarlet  leaves  of  the  piebald  maple, 
From  the  forest's  gay  autumn  cloak. 

Modest  blooms  of  the  sweet  red  clover. 

Latest  born  of  its  honeyed  kin; 
With  a  spray  of  bright-tinted  creeper, 

From  the  wall  of  a  rustic  inn. 


As  they  stood  in  desolate  beauty, 

As  they  tossed  in  the  north  wind's  breath, 
Were  they  waving  farewell  to  summer, 

Or  flinging  a  challenge  to  death  ? 


DR.    BKNjAMI.V    RAND 


Canadian  Celebrities 


No.  75— BENJAMIN  RAND,  PH.D. 


EXJAMIX  RAXD,  PH.D., 
was  born  in  Canning,  Xova 
Scotia,  July  17,  1856.  His 
father  was  Ebenezer  Rand, 
E.sq.,  who  for  more  than  a 
quarter  of  a  century  held  the  office  of 
Chief  Collector  of  Customs  for  King's 
County,  and  was  one  of  its  most  prom- 
inent citizens.  His  mother  was  Ann 
Isabella  (Eaton),  daughter  of  Ward 
Eaton,  Esq.,  a  gentleman  of  superior 
ability  and  of  the  highest  standing  in 
the  same  county.  The  Rands,  of  Xova 
Scotia,  are  descended  from  Robert  Rand, 
who  emigrated  from  England  to  Charles- 
town,  Massachusetts,  before  1657;  through 
a  great-grandson,  John  Rand,  who,  five 
years  after  the  expulsion  of  the  Acadians 

16 


from  Xova  Scotia,  removed  from  Nan- 
tucket Island  to  that  province  and  re- 
ceived an  extensive  grant  of  land  in  the 
Township  of  Cornwallis. 

Dr.  Benjamin  Rand,  eldest  son  of 
Ebenezer  Rand,  received  his  early  edu- 
cation at  Horton  Academy,  afterward 
going  to  the  University  of  Acadia  Col- 
lege, Xova  Scotia,  by  which  institution 
he  was  given  the  degree  of  Bachelor  of 
.Arts  in  1875,  ^1^^  Master  of  Arts  in  1879. 
From  1877  to  1879  he  spent  at  Harvard 
University,  where  he  again  received  the 
degree  of  B.A.,  and  iii  1880,  of  M.A. 
Between  1882  and  1885,  he  held  the 
Walker  Fellowship  from  Harvard,  and 
during  this  period  studied  philosophy  at 
Heidelberg    University,    imder    the    dis- 


CANADIAN    CELEBRITIES 


17 


tinguished  historian  of  philosophy,  Kemo 
Fischer.  In  1885  he  received  from  Har- 
vard the  degree  of  Ph.D.  in  Philosophy, 
the  distinction  having  been  given  only 
one  person  by  Harvard  before.  From 
that  time  to  the  present  he  has  been  in- 
timately, and  with  the  exception  of  a 
short  period,  officially,  connected  with 
the  Philosophical  Department  of  this 
greatest  American  University.  In  1888- 
89,  however,  he  occupied  the  post  of 
Instructor  in  English  at  the  Massachu- 
setts Institute   of  Technology  in  Boston. 

If  Nova  Scotia  has  a  son  of  whose 
scholastic  and  literary  attainments  she 
may  justly  be  proud,  it  is  the  subject  of 
this  sketch.  The  range  of  his  scholar- 
ship has,  perhaps,  been  wider,  and  the 
literary  work  he  has  done  more  labor- 
ious, than  that  of  any  other  hving  Cana- 
dian, at  home  or  abroad.  This  range 
includes  history,  economics,  philosophy, 
and  biography.  In  history,  he  first  dis- 
covered and  made  known  the  extent  and 
importance  of  the  New  England  migra- 
tion to  the  Maritime  Provinces  in  1760, 
which  movement  had  previously  been 
overshadowed  by  the  Loyalist  migration 
of  1776  and  1785.  On  this  subject  Dr. 
Rand  read  a  valuable  paper  before  the 
American  Historical  Association  in  Wash- 
ington, and  also  published  several  arti- 
cles. Among  other  interesting  mono- 
graphs he  has  published  a  life  of  Rev. 
Aaron  Cleveland,  and  articles  suggested 
by  his  own  travels  in  countries  about  the 
Mediterranean  and  Black  seas. 

In  economics,  Dr.  Rand  is  the  author 
of  "Selections  Illustrating  Economic  His- 
tory since  1763,"  a  work  that  has  al- 
read\'  reached  its  fourth  edition,  and 
has  become  widely  used  as  a  college 
text-book.  It  was  the  first  work  to 
appear  with  the  title  ''Economic  His- 
tory," and  it  thus  gave  the  name  to  a 
new  department  of  economic  thought 
and  prepared  the  way  for  a  new  subject 
in  the  curriculum  of  American  univer- 
sity education.  In  this  department  Dr. 
Rand  has  also  made  contributions  to 
the  study  of  Canadian  railways. 

In    philosophy,    besides   an    "Abstract 

of  Ferrier's   Greek  Philosophy,"  he  has 

issued   some   important   works.     As   the 

result   of  several   summers  spent   in   ex- 

9 


amining  the  treasures  in  Bnti.-,li  archives, 
he  published  in  1901  "The  Life,  Unpub- 
Hshed  Letters,  and  Philosophical  Regi- 
men of  Anthony,  Third  Earl  of  Shaftes- 
bury," the  author  of  the  well-known 
"Characteristics."  Shaftesbury's  "Phil- 
osophical Regimen"  was  discovered  by 
Dr.  Rand  in  the  archives  of  the  Record 
Office  in  London.  It  embodies  a  phil- 
osophy which  the  discoverer  character- 
ised as  "the  strongest  expression  of 
stoicism  since  the  days  of  Epictetus 
and  Marcus  Aurehus;"  and  its  author 
he  described  "as  both  in  theory  and 
in  practice  the  greatest  Stoic  of  modern 
times."  On  the  appearance  of  Dr. 
Rand's  work  the  British  press  declared 
that,  by  the  many  American  scholars  who 
were  then  devoting  themselves  to  the 
examination  of  English  unpubhshed  rec- 
ords, no  discovery  had  been  made 
"comparable  in  literary  value  to  these 
unpublished  letters  and  ethical  doc- 
trines of  Shaftesbury." 

More  comprehensive  in  scope  than  the 
preceding  works,  the  result  of  years  of 
incessant  labour,  is  Dr.  Rand's  lately 
published  "Bibliography  of  Philosophy." 
This  great  work  comprises  bibliogra- 
phies of  the  history  of  philosophy,  sys- 
tematic philosophy,  logic,  aesthetics,  phil- 
osophy of  religion,  ethics,  and  psychology. 
The  mere  recital  of  these  subjects  suffices 
to  indicate  how  vast  has  been  the  do- 
main of  knowledge  Dr.  Rand  has  ex- 
plored. 

During  the  past  year,  in  continuation 
of  the  notable  work  of  the  late  Mr.  John 
Langdon  Sibley,  M.A.,  he  has  prepared 
for  publication  a  fourth  volume  of  Bio- 
graphical Sketches  of  Harvard  gradu- 
ates. He  is  now  engaged  on  a  fifth 
volume  of  the  same  work. 

One  of  the  most  important  extensions 
of  the  ever-developing  work  of  Harvard 
University  has  been  the  recent  erection 
of  Emerson  Hall,  to  perpetuate  the 
name  and  influence  of  the  great  New 
England  sage.  In  that  hall  will  hence- 
forth centre  all  the  distinctively  philo- 
sophical interests  of  the  university,  and 
there  has  already  been  gathered  a  large 
librar}^  bearing  on  philosophical  sub- 
jects, for  the  purpose  of  original  re- 
search.    Of  this   librarv   Dr.   Rand  has 


18 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


lately  been  made  the  oiiicial  head.  The 
appointment  of  Librarian  of  Philosophy 
has  been  given  him  in  recognition  of  his 
great  service  as  a  speciahst  in  the  bibli- 
ography of  philosophy,  and  it  is  the  first 
appointment  of  the  kind  ever  made. 

Dr.  Rand  belongs  to  numerous  learned 
societies,  among  which  may  be  mentioned 
the  American  Historical  Association,  the 
American  Folk  Lore  Society,  and  the 
American  Philosophical  Association.  He 
was  a  member  of  the  International  Geo- 
graphical Conference  held  in  London  in 
1895,  and  a  delegate  of  the  American 
Historical  Association  to  the  celebration 
in  Hahfax,  Nova  Scotia,  in  1897,  of  the 
discovery  of  America  by  John  Cabot. 

Although  Dr.  Rand's  work  for  years 
has  been  pursued  in  the  United  States, 
he  has  never  renounced  his  Canadian 
citizenship.     It  is  probable,  also,  that  no 


Canadian  who  has  ever  been  connected 
with  Har\'ard  University,  has  done  so 
much  to  render  available  to  his  own 
land  the  great  resources  of  this  notable 
university.  Through  his  influence  the 
late  Mr.  Frank  Bolles,  of  Harvard,  was 
induced  to  visit  Canada  and  write  his 
well-known  book,  "From  Blomidon  to 
Smoky."  At  his  suggestion  Professor 
M.  L.  Femald,  the  chief  botanist  of 
New  England  flora,  was  led  to  devote 
his  attention  to  the  study  of  Acadian  flora. 
At  present  Dr.  Rand  is  honorary  pres- 
ident of  the  Harvard  Canadian  Club. 
With  Canadian  cabinet  ministers  he 
has  always  been  in  close  touch.  Thus 
in  many  ways  he  is  a  binding  link  in 
this  ancient  university,  between  the  two 
great  countries  which  divide  the  North 
American  continent. 

John  EUphaz  Chapman 


Some  Phases  of  Student  Life 


By  A.  F.  B.  CLARK 


|HE  death  of  Henrik  Ibsen 
has  removed  the  most  un- 
compromising radical  of  a 
radical  century,  and  re- 
minds us  that  it  is  now  in- 
dispensable to  approach  a  social  or  polit- 
ical or  educational  question  with  the 
gravity  and  mercilessness  of  a  surgeon 
approaching  his  corpus  vile.  Writers 
who  wish  to  convince  their  readers  of 
their  own  sincerity  can  no  longer  hover 
over  their  subjects  in  the  high  ether  of 
artistic  detachment,  and  obtain  of  them 
a  bird's-eye  view  in  which  there  are  no 
blots  on  the  landscape.  They  must 
rather,  like  the  lava  or  the  water-spring, 
force  their  way  up  to  the  light  through 
the  underlying  earth,  must  mine  under- 
neath their  subject  and  surprise  its  sub- 
terraneous piers  and  passages  with  their 
picks  and  miners'  lamps.  This  is  my 
apolog}'  for  approaching  what  may  seem 
a  very  unassuming  subject  in  a  very 
radical  way  by  asking  why  student  life, 
as  it  is  understood  at  a  university,  should 
exist,   why   universities   exist,    how   they 


justify  themselves?  These  questions,  be 
sure,  are  being  posed  every  day  by  peo- 
ple w^ho  have  heard  wise  men  say  that 
books  are  the  vmi versify  of  the  future, 
that  if  we  closed  all  our  university  build- 
ings except  the  library,  we  wovild  lose 
nothing,  and  who  ask  themselves  why 
young  men  should  spend  four  precious 
years,  of  which  thrice  four  months  is 
enforced  holiday,  in  listening  to  men 
articulating  in  a  class-room  words  which 
can  be  found  by  anyone  in  a  good  book 
of  reference.  Then  the  social  Hfe,  the 
athletics,  the  theatre  nights,  the  par- 
ades, the  hustles — are  not  these  things 
merely  glorif\ing  the  animal?  WTiat  re- 
lation have  they  to  success,  material  or 
spiritual,  in  this  world  of  men  ?  If  some 
comments  on  some  of  the  most  intimate 
phases  of  university  Hfe,  as  seen  specific- 
ally in  the  University  of  Toronto,  can 
enlighten  those  doubting  Thomases  in 
the  outer  coiirt,  they  may  sen^e  a  higher 
object  than  mere  description. 

I  am  still  orthodox  enough  to  beheve 
that  the  most  important  duty  of  a  uni- 


SOME    PHASES    OF    STUDENT    LIFE 


19 


versity  is  to  give  an  intellectual  training. 
But  1  recognise  in  the  atmosphere  of  a 
university  quite  a  different  determining 
medium  through  which  this  training  is 
given  from  that  which  surrounds  the 
solitary  self-made  student.  And  it  is 
this  very  atmosphere — an  exhalation, 
perhaps,  partly  from  the  intellectualism 
of  university  life,  yet  separate  from  it — 
which  constitutes  the  unique  and  indis- 
pensable value  of  a  university  course. 
What  do  I  mean  by  this  atmosphere? 
I  do  not  mean  the  atmosphere  of  cul- 
ture, that  vague  element  so  glibly  recom- 
mended as  one  of  the  assets  of  university 
education.  I  mean  a  kind  of  rarefying 
medium  which  relieves  study  and  erudi- 
tion of  their  utiHtarian  density,  which 
prevents  them  from  falling  mole  sua, 
which  enables  a  student  to  wear  all  his 
"weight  of  learning  hghtly  like  a  flower." 
It  is  commonly  observed  that  the  self- 
made  scholar  has  the  defect  of  looking 
upon  learning  as  the  sectaries  of  the 
Ptolemaic  astronomy  looked  upon  this 
earth — as  the  centre  of  everything.  He 
fails  to  relate  learning  to  life.  This  is 
probably  the  result  of  a  divorce  between 
study  and  social  duties  in  his  life.  Hence 
when  he  acts  the  man,  he  is  not  a  scholar; 
when  he  acts  the  scholar,  he  is  not  a  man. 
This  defect  is  obviated  in  two  ways 
by  assimilating  learning  through  the 
university  medium.  In  the  fi^rst  place, 
the  student  body  is  a  small  society  in 
itself,  demanding  certain  social  respon- 
sibilities from  each  member.  The  di- 
verse interests  of  this  university  society — 
study,  athletics,  dances,  debates — are  in- 
terwoven into  a  kind  of  tapestry  in  a 
single  morning's  work  at  the  university — 
not  kept  for  separate  periods  of  the  day. 
At  ten  minutes  to  nine,  the  rotunda  be- 
gins to  fill  with  conversing  groups — the 
last  Rugby  game,  the  new  Students'  Par- 
liament, the  Insurance  Investigation,  the 
play  at  "the  Princess"  are  being  dis- 
cussed— the  bulletin  board  presents  its 
multifarious  notices.  As  the  hands  of 
the  clock  move  to  9.10,  the  groups  dis- 
perse, professors  in  gowns  and  with 
sheaves  of  paper  in  their  hands  pass  to 
the  lecture-halls,  and  for  fifty  minutes 
these  youths  whose  conversation  has 
been  ranging  "from  Heaven  through  the 


W<jrld  to  Hell,"  concentrate  their  minds 
on  some  single,  narrow  field  of  scholarly 
discussion.  Then,  at  the  end  of  the 
hour,  come  another  ten  minutes  of  gen- 
eral interests — or  perhaps  a  student  has 
a  spare  hour  which  he  spends  in  the 
"Union,"  discussing  the  morning  news- 
paper over  a  pipe,  or  playing  a  game  of 
billiards.  Not  only  does  this  alternate 
expansion  and  contraction  of  the  mind, 
comparable  to  the  diastole  and  systole 
of  the  heart,  give  mental  elasticity 
and  readiness;  more  than  that,  it  is 
evident  that  in  this  life  learning  takes 
its  place  as  an  incident — the  most  im- 
portant incident,  perhaps;  still,  only  an 
incident  in  the  business  of  life.  Learn- 
ing is  given  an  immediate  frame  of 
organised  human  existence;  the  study  of 
the  solitary  student  has  no  such  frame. 
In  a  university  one  has  constantly  be- 
fore one's  mind  study  in  close  juxta- 
position to  social  activity,'  to  life's  ma- 
chinery; and  even  though  it  is  but  the 
mimic  machinery  of  student  life  in  this 
case,  it  fulfils  its  purpose. 

Some  words  on  the  true  significance 
of  athletics  and  "scraps"  and  "hustles" 
are  appropriate  here,  because  they  are 
a  phase  of  this  medium,  this  frame  into 
which  study  is  put  at  a  university.  From 
one  point  of  view,  they  are  simply  the 
inheritance  of  the  Hellenic  ideal  which' 
brought  the  poet  and  the  athlete  into 
the  same  arena  at  the  Olympian  games, 
and  which  made  the  great  artists  of 
the  Renaissance  like  Michelangelo  re- 
joice in  billowing  muscles  as  much  as 
in  prone  brows,  in  the  brawny  arm  and 
the  masculine  beard  of  Moses  as  much 
as  in  the  Book  of  the  Laws  which  he 
holds.  Then  the  corporate  contests — 
those  between  one  college  or  faculty  and 
another — have  a  peculiar  value  of  their 
own;  they  tend  to  preserve  the  sense  of 
clannishness — a  measurable  presentation 
of  which  in  the  world  is  not  unwise — 
amid  the  individualistic,  the  cosmopoh- 
tan  tendencies  of  learning.  But  per- 
haps the  greatest  value  of  the  hustles 
and  scraps  is  that  they  place  in  juxta- 
position with  grave  and  ascetic  study 
the  pure  physical  joy  of  living.  In  after 
life,  this  joy  is  sharply  separated  from 
working  hours.     Men  of  affairs  turn  the 


20 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


key  in  the  door  of  their  warehouse  or 
bank  ofSce,  and  make  for  the  yachting 
club  or  the  bowling  alley.  They  would 
never  dream  of  profaning  the  inviolate 
atmosphere  of  mahogany  desks  and 
green-shaded  incandescent  bulbs  with 
the  odour  of  healthy  sweat  and  the 
sound  of  pulsing  hearts.  But,  as  we 
have  seen,  the  university  is  a  world  of 
sharp  contrasts.  The  Retail  Merchants' 
Association  invading  the  offices  of  the 
Bank  of  Commerce  with  paint  pots  and 
making  palettes  of  the  tellers  and  ledger- 
keepers,  while  the  latter  retaliate  by 
means  of  the  emergency  fire-equipment, 
is  an  almost  inconceivable  image.  But 
I  have  seen  many  an  analogous  scene 
in  the  august  corridors  of  my  Alma 
!Mater,  where  dwells  a  race  as  dignified 
and  serious  as  the  men  down  town.  I 
have  seen  men  issue  from  the  contem- 
plation of  Plato's  Republic  to  a  bath  of 
cerulean  blue  paint  at  the  hands  of  em- 
bryonic C.E.'s.  Five  minutes  later  I 
have  seen  those  corridors  full  of  a  surg- 
ing mass  of  learned  youth  rejoicing  that 
it^has  arms  to  strike  with,  legs  to  kick 
with,  lungs  to  roar  with,  and  bones  that 
will  resist  high  pressure.  Finally  I  havf 
seen  one  party  conquer  by  driving  back 
their  foes  at  the  point  of  the  fire  hose. 
And  I  maintain  with  Sir  "Walter  Scott, 

"  'Twere  worth  ten  years  of  peaceful  life, 
One  glance  at  their  array!  " 

Indeed,  if  you  know  your  Scott,  you 
know  what  a  benefit  the  university  con- 
fers on  the  country  by  winking  at  these 
pranks.  He  was  a  scholar,  an  artist, 
an  indefatigable  worker,  a  man  of  the 
most  refined  and  gentle  spirit;  yet  how 
dearly,  amid  all  his  antiquarian  lore 
and  love  of  natural  beauty,  did  he  adore 
a  good  physical  tussle!  That  is  what 
makes  his  novels  and  poems  an  eternal 
fountain  of  youth.  And  especially  in 
this  age  of  mechanical  efficiency,  when 
spontaneous  joy  is  proscribed  even  in 
so-called  amusements,  it  is  well  that 
the  university  should  renew  the  youth 
of  the  world  by  combining  the  "wild 
joys  of  living"  \\ath  the  quiet  delights  of 
study  and  meditation,  by  letting  men 
on  the  threshold  of  life  "see  that  life 
steadily  and  see  it  whole." 

But    there   is   another   wav   in    which 


learning  is  kept  elastic  in  a  university, 
and  in  this  case  within  its  own  univer- 
sally recognised  domain.  According  to 
the  curriculum,  instruction  is  given  by 
courses  of  lectures.  Well,  in  the  first 
place,  it  is  an  open  secret  that  there  is 
a  growing  scepticism,  not  only  among 
students,  but  among  teachers,  as  to  the 
efficacy  of  cut-and-dried  lectures.  Ruskin 
once  remarked  on  the  absurdity  of  ex- 
pecting a  man  to  deliver  in  one  hour  the 
results  of  researches  which  might  have 
occupied  him  for  weeks  or  months;  but 
he  added  that  much  good  might  be  got 
from  the  personal  commentary  of  a 
teacher  on  a  book  or  picture  or  natural 
object  which  a  class  might  be  studying. 
The  wisdom  of  his  remark  is  shown  by 
the  fact  that  this  method  is  obtaining 
increasing  favour  in  the  teaching  of  all 
subjects  that  can  possibly  be  treated  in 
such  a  way.  Thus  a  student  learns  that 
information  may  be  procured  in  irregular 
ways  that  do  not  permit  it  to  be  jotted 
down  in  the  note-books.  He  accustoms 
himself  to  receiving  gratuitous  informa- 
tion in  side-remarks,  as  well  as  in  pre- 
meditated expositions. 

Outside  of  lectures  altogether,  univer- 
sity life — on  its  purely  scholastic  side — 
does  much  to  mellow  learning.  The 
Departmental  Societies,  each  of  which 
devotes  itself  to  some  special  branch  of 
studies,  such  as  the  Classics,  Natural 
Science,  Semitic  Languages,  Mathe- 
matics, allow  students  and  professors  to 
meet  and  express  informal  opinions  on 
an  equal  footing.  Here  professors,  after 
their  summer  holidays,  may  communi- 
cate to  the  students  some  enthusiasm 
they  have  caught  at  some  convention 
abroad,  or  describe  some  country  or 
scene  of  historic  or  literary  fame  easily 
connected  with  some  special  study.  Here 
professors  from  other  departments  may 
be  invited  to  speak  on  one  of  those  sub- 
jects which  he  in  the  inexactly  dehmited 
borderland  between  difi'erent  sciences, 
thus  emphasising  the  underlying  solid- 
arity of  learning  and  counterbalancing 
the  extremes  of  specialisation.  Less 
academic  are  the  small  exclusive  clubs 
to  which  the  entree  may  be  won  only  on 
the  presentation  of  an  acceptable  per- 
sonality,  and   which   meet   for   fraternal 


SOME    PHASES    OF    STUDENT    LIFE 


21 


and  usually  post-prandial  discussion  on 
all  subjects  whether  they  be  classifiable 
under  university  studies  or  not.  Here 
subjects  are  discussed  without  reference 
to  text-book  or  authority,  but  entirely 
from  the  personal  standpoint — little  cote- 
ries of  Hamlets,  ever  ready  to  track  an 
idea  to  its  lair,  are  these  circles,  specu- 
lating amid  a  haze  of  blue  smoke  and  an 
incense  of  hot  coffee  which  conduces  ad- 
mirably to  a  feeling  of  mild-eyed  tolera- 
tion towards  all  kinds  of  heresies  and 
heterodoxy.  Sometimes  professors,  or 
interesting  strangers  visiting  Toronto,  are 
invited  to  address  these  clubs.  Still 
other  societies  hold  meetings  at  the  resi- 
dences of  prominent  citizens,  where 
students  and  professors  are  brought 
from  poring  over  musty  books  into  im- 
mediate dramatic  contact  with  the  lead- 
ers in  practical  life,  with  physicians, 
clerg}'men,  princes  of  finance  and  cap- 
tains of  industry.  Thus,  even  within 
the  confines  of  instruction  and  mental 
culture,  the  organisations  of  a  univer- 
sity do  much  to  give  learning  its  orienta- 
tion in  the  world  of  men. 

This  use,  then,  at  least,  we  have  found 
for  a  university  course  as  against  self- 
culture — it  sets  learning  out  in  the  world 
of  men,  makes  it  less  self-conscious.  I 
have  only  treated  those  phases  of  stu- 
dent life  which  contribute  to  this  end. 
Some  will  ask  if  university  "politics" 
do  not  take  their  place  here.  I  w-ould 
answer,  No.  It  will  be  observed  that 
all  the  elements  which  have  been  ad- 
duced as  tending  to  mellow  learning 
have  been  realities — athletics,  dances, 
societies,  meeting  at  prominent  men's 
homes — all  these  things  are  phases  of 
real    life.     But    university    ''politics"    is 


playing  at  real  life,  just  as  much  as  a 
little  girl's  fussing  with  her  doll's  house 
is  playing  at  real  life.  And  university 
students  ought  to  be  above  playing  at 
reality.  No  word  of  disparagement  is 
meant  against  the  value  of  debates,  the 
adoption  of  parliamentary  procedure  in 
the  Lit.,  etc.;  it  is  only  claimed  that  the 
■'peanut  politics"  at  present  rampant 
at  the  university  have  no  relation  what- 
ever to  intellectual  training  or  to  the 
mellowing  of  that  training,  and  some- 
times come  dangerously  near  damaging 
the  dignity  of  the  status  of  students. 

A  very  interesting  phase  of  student 
life  as  it  exists  at  our  university — a  phase 
which  deserves  far  other  than  the  frivo- 
lous consideration  usually  given  to  it — 
is  co-education.  To  the  intellectual  and 
social  idealist  co-education  is  full  of 
attraction.  Its  possibilities  recall  the 
famous  Parisian  salons  of  the  seventeenth 
and  eighteenth  centuries,  where  bril- 
liant ladies  and  gentlemen  met  as  in- 
tellectual equals,  and  discussed  scien- 
tific and  philosophical  questions,  the 
clash  of  the  masculine  and  the  feminine 
mind  giving  a  pungency  and  variety  to 
the  deliberations  of  those  select  coteries 
unknowm  since  in  the  same  degree.  The 
attempt  to  introduce  such  a  variety  into 
modern  university  life  is  still  in  the  ex- 
perimental stage,  and  no  judgment  can 
be  given  upon  its  success.  But  what- 
ever opposition  to  the  experiment  exists 
can  only  come  from  the  unreasoning 
prejudice  which  for  centuries  has  made 
a  mock  of  the  easy,  superficial  gallantry 
of  men,  and  which  has  perhaps  done 
more  to  retard  the  spiritual  progress  of 
humanity  than  will  be  appreciated  until 
a  purer  air  is  reached. 


The  Last  Turn  of  the  Screws 

A  Story   of  Modern   Merchandising 
By  ANDREW  COLTISH  SMITH 


G.  FRASER  stood  behind 
his  counter  gazing  thought- 
full}"  about  his  shop.  For 
forty  }ears  he  had  been  shak- 
ing the  tree  of  business — 
shaking  it  hard.  And  if  now,  while  the 
fruit  lay  thick  about  him,  he  was  vaguely 
conscious  that  his  hold  on  it  had  lost 
something  of  the  old-time  firmness  and 
confidence,  it  was  little  wonder. 

Just  forty  years  ago  he  invested  every 
cent  of  his  hard-earned  savings  in  the 
grocery  business.  At  that,  his  capital 
was  small  enough  in  cash,  but  he  helped 
it  out  with  perseverance,  honesty  and 
courteous  manners— and  the  business 
grew.  Stern,  hard,  consistent  work,  giv- 
ing one  hundred  cents  of  value  for  every 
dollar  taken  in,  and  above  aU,  keeping 
always  at  it,  morning,  noon  and  night, 
spring,  summer,  winter,  fall,  brought  him 
customers  and  then  more  customers,  and 
then  more  customers  stiU.  At  first,  he 
took  his  o\Mi  orders,  delivered  his  own 
goods  and  hired  a  girl  to  look  after  the 
shop  while  he  was  out.  Now  he  had 
several  clerks,  three  delivery  waggons,  and 
a  book-keeper,  and  his  shop  was  far  and 
away  the  largest  one  in  town. 

It  was  right  in  this  same  building  that 
he  had  opened  up,  too — \\\\h  all  the  buoy- 
ant energy  of  youth.  As  he  looked  back, 
it  seemed  scarcely  possible  that  it  had  been 
forty  years  ago.  It  was  a  modest  little 
business  in  those  days,  but  bit  by  bit  he 
had  built  it  up,  adding  a  department  here, 
making  some  improvement  there,  putting 
into  it  all  he  had  of  virility  and  strength. 
As  the  years  passed  on,  the  thing  had  be- 
come a  part  of  him,  bone  of  his  bone,  flesh 
of  his  flesh.  It  had  taken  the  place  of 
friends,  and  home,  and  wife  and  children, 
for  he  had  been  so  engrossed  in  his  business 
that  he  had  had  time  for  none  of  these. 
Gradually  he  had  come  to  love  it  as  a 
mother  does  her  first-bom.  It  was  the 
expression  of  his  whole  life's  work. 

Suddenly,  as  he  stood  there,  the  door 


swung  open  and  a  fresh,  energetic  traveller 
entered.  Setting  down  his  grip,  he  walked 
up  to  the  proprietor  confidently. 

"Mr.  Fraser,  I  believe?"  he  said,  offer- 
ing his  hand. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Aly  name  is  Chancellor.  I  am  repre- 
senting Tumable  and  Co." 

Fraser  frowned. 

"Yes,"  he  said.  "Some  of  your  travel- 
lers have  called  before." 

Tumable  &  Co.  stood  for  the  mightiest 
power  in  the  Canadian  grocery  world; 
most  storekeepers,  indeed,  including  Fra- 
ser, considered  them  to  be  a  menace.  Their 
coming  marked  the  beginning  of  a  new 
era  of  things — the  day  of  package  goods,  a 
movement  regarded  with  great  consterna- 
tion by  storekeepers  of  the  old  school, 
who  saw  their  long  profits  gradually  being 
divided  between  themselves  and  the  manu- 
facturers. Tumable  &  Co.  put  up  jams, 
pickles,  sugars,  syrups,  rolled  oats,  tea, 
rice,  flour — ever\-thing,  in  fact,  capable  of 
being  converted  into  a  neat  and  attractive 
package.  They  advertised  freely,  packed 
first-class  goods,  sold  them  at  a  fair  price 
and  allowed  the  retailer  the  smallest  profit 
of  any  firm  in  the  business. 

Turnable  &  Co.  had  been  an  American 
concern  in  the  first  place.  Latterly  they 
had  invaded  Great  Britain  and  pretty  well 
overrun  it.  Now,  they  were  turning  their 
attention  to  Canada,  a  small  business  area 
as  yet,  but  rapidly  increasing.  At  first, 
they  had  been  merely  manufacturers; 
later  on,  when  the  trade  refused  to  handle 
their  goods  on  the  small  margin  of  profit 
allowed,  they  became  retailers  themselves ; 
until  now  their  stores  were  scattered 
through  every  town  and  village  in  the 
United  States  and  Great  Britain.  Fine, 
airy,  city-like  shops  they  were,  with  splen- 
did fixtures,  obliging  clerks,  prompt  ser- 
vice and  close  prices.  And  they  were 
successes — evePk-vs^here. 

Many  an  an.xious  eye  watched  Turn- 
able's  coming  to  Canada,  for  they  showed 


THE    lAST   TURN'    OF    THE    SCREWS 


23 


no  mercy  to  any  man.  Their  entry  into  a 
new  town  was  invariably  the  signal  for 
such  ruinous  selling  that  the  other  store- 
keepers were  forced  sooner  or  later  to 
either  go  out  of  business,  or  to  handle 
Turnable's  products  exclusively — in  other 
words,  to  become  mere  agents  of  the  big 
company.  The  opposition  having  been 
disposed  of,  prices  usually  went  up.  It 
was  such  high-handed  proceedings  as 
these  that  had  gained  for  them  the  fear 
and  hatred  of  every  independent  store- 
keeper in  the  country.  And  yet  they  were 
spreading  out  slowly,  ceaselessly,  relent- 
lessly. 

"  We  have  never  been  able  to  sell  to  you. 
Mr.  Fraser." 

"No,"  smiled  Fraser. 

"May  I  ask  why?" 

The  traveller  unbuttoned  his  overcoat 
and  threw  one  foot  up  on  the  stool  before 
the  counter,  resting  his  chin  on  his  hand. 
Fraser  leaned  back  nonchalantly  with 
elbows  on  the  shelving. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know'.  I've -always  been 
stocked  up  in  your  lines,  I  suppose." 

The  traveller  shook  his  head. 

"  Mr.  Fraser,  we  carry  two  hundred  and 
twenty-seven  different  Hnes,  and  our 
travellers  have  called  on  you  twelve  times. 
It  is  impossible  that  you  have  not  been  out 
of  any  of  them  in  all  that  time.  And  I  do 
not  see  one  of  our  articles  in  the  place." 

And  he  swept  a  comprehensive  look 
around. 

"Do  you  know  that  you  are  the  only 
grocer  in  Renshaw  who  handles  none  of 
our  goods  ?"  he  went  on. 

"No,  I  was  not  aware  of  it." 

"What  is  the  matter,  anyway?  You 
know  what  our  brand  stands  for.  AVhen- 
ever  you  see  the  'Little  Joker'  on  a  pack- 
age, you  know  the  goods  are  right  and  the 
prices  are  right.  The  packages  are  at- 
tractive. We  advertise  freely.  \\%at  more 
do  you  want?" 

"Profit,"  said  Fraser,  laconically. 

"How  big  a  margin  do  you  expect? 
The  progressive  merchant,  Mr.  Fraser, 
has  ceased  to  figure  percentage.  Amount 
of  goods  turned  over  and  profits  accrued, 
are  his  method.  Every  time  you  sell  a 
package  instead  of  bulk  goods,  you  save 
one  dowm  weight,  one  paper  bag,  one 
string  and  several  minutes  of  vour  sales- 


man's time,  and  your  customer  gets  a 
better  article  in  a  more  attractive  form.  I 
don't  need  to  tell  you  that  a  smaller  profit 
with  those  savings  pays  you  better  than 
the  old  one.  You,  as  an  up-to-date  busi- 
ness man,  know  these  things.  Our  ways 
are  satisfying  every  other  merchant  in 
Renshaw,  and  I  know  they  would  suit  you, 
if  you  once  tried  them.  Let  me  show  you 
some  of  my  lines,  anyway." 

And  he  reached  down  for  his  grip. 

"No,"  interposed  Fraser,  suddenly. 
"It's  no  mortal  use,  Mr.  Chancellor.  I 
can't  buy  from  you  under  any  considera- 
tion. It's  not  the  package  idea  that  I 
object  to — I  am  handling  goods  in  that 
way  now.  It's  your  invasion  of  the  retail 
field  that  I  oppose." 

"Oh!"  said  Mr.  Chancellor,  and  Fraser 
was  sensible  of  a  certain  subtle  change  in 
his  tone.  "You  stand  on  principle  in 
this  matter." 

"Exactly,"  said  Fraser.  "When  you 
withdraw  your  retail  stores  from  Canada, 
then,  and  not  until  then,  will  I  buy  from 
you." 

"Now  see  here,  Mr.  Fraser,"  he  said, 
adopting  a  friendly  tone,  "I'm  going  to 
tell  you  something,  though  I  have  no  right 
to  do  it.  This  is  just  between  ourselves, 
you  understand.  Turnable  &  Co.  are 
thinking  mighty  seriously  of  starting  a 
store  right  here  in  Renshaw.  They  want- 
ed to  do  it  two  months  ago,  but  I  stood 
them  off.  WTiy?  I'U  teU  you.  We're 
doing  a  good  business  here  now,  and,  as  I 
said,  we  are  selling  to  every  other  store  in 
the  city  and  it  seems  just  a  trifle — well, 
treacherous — after  they  have  patronised 
us  so  long,  to  open  up  here  and  strew  their 
blood  and  bones  along  the  street.  Now 
doesn't  it?" 

"Oh,  that's  nothing!"  smiled  Fraser, 
grimly.  "You  are  far  too  tender-hearted, 
Mr.  Chancellor." 

"Well,  but  it  does.  I  hate  to  see  a 
friend's  throat  cut.  But  Turnable  &  Co. 
say  they  are  not  yet  getting  a  big  enough 
share  of  the  Renshaw  business.  Now  I 
have  a  good  deal  to  say  in  the  management 
of  the  Canadian  branches,  and  I'll  tell  you 
what  I'll  do."  And  he  tapped  a  forefinger 
impressively  on  the  counter  and  lowered 
his  voice  to  a  whisper.  "I'll  guarantee 
to   keep  them  out    of    Renshaw   for    a 


24 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


year.  Guarantee  it,  mind  I  How  does  that 
catch  you?" 

"And  your  terms?"  asked  Fraser, 
rather  contemptuously. 

"  Oh,  terms  I  We  won't  speak  of  terms. 
I'm  no  blackmailer.  I've  told  you  this  in 
a  friendly  way.  Of  course,  I  should  like 
you  to  help  me  out  by  an  occasional  order. 
You  do  a  large  business  here.  Couldn't 
you  give  us,  say,  ten  thousand  a  year  of  it  ? 
If  the  firm  should  wholesale  that  much 
more  in  Renshaw,  I  think  I  could  persuade 
them  not  to  retail  here  at  all." 

"No  thanks,"  said  Fraser.  "It's  not 
good  enough." 

"  Tumable  &  Co.  make  a  strong  opposi- 
tion, Mr.  Fraser." 

"And  an  unscrupulous  one,  I  am  well 
aware.  But  they  are  welcome  to  do  as 
they  please  for  all  of  me.  I'll  go  on  doing 
business  right  here." 

"We  are  now  firmly  established  in  thirty 
towns  of  this  size  in  Canada;  have  you 
considered  that  by  raising  the  selling  price 
only  three  per  cent,  in  each  of  these  places 
we  could  lower  it  in  Renshaw  at  least 
twenty-five  per  cent.?" 

"Maybe  you  could.  I  am  not  interest- 
ed in  that.  And  I'm  busy  now.  You 
will  have  to  excuse  me." 

"This  makes  our  thirteenth  call,  Mr. 
Fraser.  Thirteen  is  an  unlucky  number. 
You  are  sure  there  is  nothing  I  can  send 
you?" 

"Dead  sure." 

"  Good-bye,  then.     We'll  call  it  off." 

"Good-bye,"  said  Fraser,  turning  on 
his  heel. 

He  had  carried  himself  through  the 
interview  with  bold  and  careless  ease,  but 
he  walked  into  his  oflSce  with  a  sinking 
heart.  Tumable  &  Co.  were  evidently 
coming  at  last.  He  had  suspected  it  some 
time  ago  when  their  travellers  began  call- 
ing upon  him  so  persistently.  For  months 
he  had  watched  them  spreading  out  over 
the  countn,'  like  some  great  lava  stream, 
relentlessly  licking  up  the  smaller  stores 
and  leaving  behind  them  a  broad  trail  of 
desolation,  but  his  innate  hopefulness  had 
almost  blinded  him  to  the  fact  that  they 
must  in  time  reach  Renshaw.  Now  they 
were  actually  at  his  door,  and  his  general 
disapproval  of  their  methods  changed  to  a 
sharp     personal     resentment.      He    was 


evidently  going  to  be  their  special  mark, 
and  he  had  heard  much  of  the  ends  to 
which  they  were  prepared  to  go  to  get  rid 
of  an  objectionable  opponent. 

It  did  not  take  the  new  firm  long  to 
act.  Just  a  week  later,  the  local  papers 
announced  an  important  real  estate  deal. 
The  store  property  of  McDonald  Bros., 
confectioners,  two  doors  from  Fraser's, 
had  been  purchased  by  Tumable  &  Co., 
of  Montreal,  who  intended  remodelling 
the  premises  immediately,  with  a  view  to 
estabhshing  a  branch  of  their  business 
in  Renshaw. 

Whereat  Fraser  drew  himself  up  and 
squared  his  shoulders.  Let  them  come. 
They  would  find  him  the  very  toughest 
proposition  they  had  ever  been  up 
against.  He  had  done  business  in  Ren- 
shaw for  forty  years,  and  it  was  funny 
if  he  could  not  keep  it  up  a  few  years 
more. 

The  days  passed  on.  Tumable  &  Co. 
took  possession.  A  band  of  workmen 
came  and  departed,  brightening  the  old 
store  like  the  sweep  of  spring  across  a 
winter  landscape.  An  imposing  expanse 
of  shining  plate  glass,  hea\y  brass  plates, 
quarter-cut  oak  finishings,  long  glittering 
show  cases,  glass  counters — ever^iihing 
showed  power,  confidence  and  solidity. 
The  new  firm  had  obviously  come  to  stay. 

Then  came  opening  day,  heralded  by 
news  of  a  great  cut-price  sale.  Large 
advertisements  in  each  of  the  papers,  hand- 
bills glaringly  stamped  with  the  firm's  name 
adorning  every  city  door-knob,  huge  pla 
cards  at  the  store  front,  and  well  dressed, 
well-ticketed  windows  announced  the  fact 
to  the  public.  The  savoury  aroma  of 
grocery  bargains,  dear  to  the  housewife's 
heart,  hung  heaw  on  the  Renshaw  air. 
The  new  store  did  a  land-office  business 
for  the  first  few  days. 

Fraser  looked  on  cheerfully.  He  had 
seen  this  kind  of  thing  before.  The  store 
was  a  novelty  yet.  People  went  there  to 
see  the  sights,  as  though  it  was  the  fall 
fair  or  a  church  bazaar.  After  about  a 
week  business  would  settle  down  to  its 
normal  flow  and  it  would  be  time  enough 
then  to  see  how  much  would  run  in  the 
new  channel. 

During  the  first  week,  Fraser's  sales 
were    obviouslv    lessened.     The    second 


THE   LAST   TURN    OF    THE    SCREWS 


85 


week  his  lousiness  swung  back  pretty 
much  to  the  old  level,  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  Turnable  tS:  Co.'s  prices  were  prac- 
tically cost  and  Fraser  had  made  no  at- 
tempt to  meet  them  except  on  one  or  two 
lines.  After  all,  he  reflected  perhaps 
there  was  going  to  be  room  for  both  of 
them  in  Renshaw. 

But  a  month  later  he  was  undeceived 
in  the  hope  that  there  was  to  be  any- 
thing of  a  friendly  business  rivalry 
between  them.  Whatever  their  attitude 
might  be  to  the  others,  with  him  it  was 
to  be  a  death-feud — no  fair  fight  in 
the  open,  with  an  honest  hand- 
shake at  the  start,  and  the  spirit  of 
good-fellowship  mingled  with  the  lust  of 
battle,  but  a  deadly,  silent  grapple  in 
the  dark,  a  hacking,  stabbing  and  throt- 
tling in  blind  hatred,  with  only  murder 
in  the  heart. 

It  began  when  Turnable  &  Co.  issued 
their  new  price-list  making  a  further  re- 
duction of  lo  per  cent,  all  round.  Fraser 
read  it  over  with  dismay.  The  prices 
were  away  below  what  he  was  paying  for 
his  goods. 

A  week  or  two  more  passed.  Then,  for 
the  first  time,  it  became  obvious  that  some- 
thing was  going  wrong.  His  business 
began  to  dw^indle  quite  suddenly,  a  de- 
pression the  more  alarming  that  it  hap- 
pened at  a  time  when  such  a  change  was 
not  justified  by  local  trade  conditions. 
Cash  purchasers  w^ho  had  dealt  with  him 
for  years  began  all  at  once  to  buy  next  to 
nothing.  Even  credit  customers,  who 
may  generally  be  depended  upon  to  stay 
with  a  .merchant  through  all  changes, 
were  lessening  their  purchases  in  an  alarm- 
ing manner.  Yet  there  were  no  com- 
plaints. His  soHcitors  were  still  calling 
at  all  the  old  places  for  orders.  No  one 
had  left  him.  They  were  simply  buying 
fewer  groceries  than  they  used  to  do. 

As  the  days  passed  on  and  the  change 
became  more  marked,  he  began  to  be 
seriously  uneasy.  Some  great  unseen 
force  appeared  to  be  at  work  about  him, 
making  for  his  downfall.  Day  by  day 
his  sales  kept  falling,  yet  try  as  he  would 
he  could  not  find  the  cause,  and  the  forced 
inactivity  was  the  most  trying  ordeal  he 
had  ever  known.  If  this  kind  of  thing 
kept  on,  he  saw  nothing  but  ruin  ahead  of 


him,  and  that  phantom  haunted  him  day 
and  night.  His  face  began  to  carry  a 
worried,  haggard  look'.  For  the  first 
time,  people  began  to  notice  how  old  a 
man  he  was. 

A  few  weeks  later,  the  cause  of  the 
trouble  came  to  light  suddenly,  when 
Stuart,  his  head  clerk,  came  to  him  in 
deep  dejection. 

"Look  here,  Mr.  Fraser,"  he  said. 
"See  my  order  book.  My  sales  have 
dropped  off  twenty-five  per  cent.  And 
I  can't  help  it.  I  call  at  all  my  old  places, 
but  the  people  simply  w^on't  buy,  and  I 
have  not  been  able  to  make  it  out  until 
to-day.  It's  Tumables.  They  are  get- 
ting after  us  hotfoot.  They  had  a  man 
around  at  every  one  of  our  customer's 
doors  this  morning  with  the  new  price- 
list,  offering  to  sell  them  a  loo-lb.  sack  of 
Redpath  sugar  for  $3  with  every  five 
dollar  order.  That's  equal  to  a  further 
cut  of  20  per  cent,  at  least." 

"It's  ruination,"  said  Fraser.  "They 
can't  keep  it  up." 

"They  are  not  advertising  this.  They 
are  offering  it  to  our  customers  only." 

For  the  first  time  then,  some  sense  of 
the  futility  of  the  contest  he  had  entered 
upon  came  to  Fraser.  But  he  put  it  by 
him  resolutely,  determined  to  fight  it  out. 

Then  suddenly,  as  if  to  show  their 
versatility,  Turnable  &  Co.  completely 
changed  their  plan  of  campaign.  Hither- 
to, they  had  devoted  their  attention  to 
crippling  his  selling  powers.  Now  they 
struck  their  first  blow  at  his  buying,  a 
mode  of  attack  much  more  effective,  as 
the  event  proved. 

For  years,  Fraser  had  bought  his  lard, 
bacon,  ham,  and  other  pork  products 
from  the  Riverside  Packing  Co.  Their 
goods  were  the  recognised  standard  of 
quality  in  Western  Ontario,  and  he  had 
known  their  traveller,  Milner,  for  twenty 
years  or  more.  He  put  implicit  trust  in 
Milner's  word  and  judgment. 

This  week  Milner  called  as  usual. 

"Fraser,"  he  said,  "buy  lard.  It's  got 
to  go  up.  Absolutely  got  to.  Listen. 
The  packers'  operations  are  mighty  lim- 
ited just  now' — practically  at  a  standstill. 
Pork  is  45c.  higher  on  the  street  market 
at  this  minute.  The  packers  have  ad- 
vanced live  hogs  to  $7.85  F.O.B.  in  this 


26 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


country.  That  means  mighty  high  lard. 
Prices  are  going  up  nearly  20  per  cent,  in 
the  near  future.  I  tell  you  this  is  the 
straight  tip." 

'Fraser  had  not  followed  the  provision 
markets  as  closely  lately  as  he  should  have 
done.  He  had  so  many  weightier  things 
to'think  of  just  at  present.  Besides,  as  I 
have  said,  he  had  positive  faith  in  Milner. 

"Look  here,"  the  traveller  went  on, 
"the  regular  price  is  12 J.  I'll  lay  you 
down  200  tubs  at  ii|c.  Right  at  your 
door.  It's  a  snap,  sure.  And  no  one  else 
in  Renshaw  will  get  a  single  pound.  You 
can  have  a  go  at  Turnables  on  that." 

"Send  them  along,"  said  Fraser. 

Three  days  later,  Turnable  &  Co.  ad- 
vertised the  best  Riverside  lard  at  loc.  a 
lb.  retail. 

Fraser  dropped  the  company  a  line  to 
see  how  it  happened. 

Their  answer  was  disconcerting,  to  say 
the  least  of  it.  Turnable  &  Co.  had  re- 
cently acquired  a  controlling  interest  in 
the  Riverside  Packing  Co.  They  should 
always  be  glad  to  supply  Fraser  at  the 
regular  wholesale  rates,  but  must  reserve 
the  right  to  retail  the  products  of  the  com- 
pany at  their  own  figures. 

Fraser  was  dazed.  It  was  the  deadliest 
blow  he  had  received  yet.  It  was  not 
that  the  Riverside  products  were  placed 
beyond  -his  reach — he  could  get  others; 
and  it  was  not  the  monetary  loss  on  this 
last  deal — that  was  trifling.  It  was  Mil- 
ner— Milner  whom  he  had  known  so  well 
for  twenty  years,  whom  he  had  trusted  so 
implicitly,  whose  honesty  he  could  have 
vouched  for  with  his  life.  Milner  had 
simply  knifed  him.  There  was  no  getting 
around  that  fact,  for  it  was  inconceivable 
that  he  had  not  kno\vn. 

That  night  Fraser  was  as  nearly  dis- 
heartened as  he  had  ever  been  in  his  life. 
The  vast,  inexorable  might  of  the  big  com- 
pany was  brought  home  to  him  at  last. 
What  could  he,  one  puny  man,  do  against 
a  huge  power  that  reached  out  above,  be- 
low, and  around  him  ?  A  force  that  could 
thus,  at  a  word,  make  traitors  of  his  best 
loved  friends  ? 

A  few  days  later,  he  had  a  call  from 
Woods,  of  Woods,  Marshall  &  Co.,  the 
great  wholesale  house  in  Toronto.  This 
firm    had    practically    started    Fraser    in 


business.  They  had  backed  his  note  for 
five  hundred  dollars  when  he  was  just 
beginning,  and  trusted  him  to  any  amount 
of  goods  he  cared  to  order,  and  that  meant 
a  strong  supporting  arm  to  him  in  his 
early  struggles.  Now  that  his  business 
was  on  a  good  substantial  footing,  he 
still  bought  the  bulk  of  his  goods  from 
them,  as  was  right  and  proper. 

"Well,  Fraser,"  said  Woods,  "I  hear 
you're  fighting  Turnables." 

"Yes,"  smiled  Fraser.     "Trying  to." 

"It  can't  be  done,  my  boy.  They're 
too  big  for  any  one  retailer,  or  one  whole- 
saler, or  even  one  manufacturer  to  buck 
against." 

"But  what  am  I  to  do?"  asked  Fraser. 
"I  didn't  want  to  fight  them.  I  simply 
wanted  to  be  left  alone.  Surely  a  man  is 
privileged  to  mind  his  own  business  and 
sell  whatever  goods  he  wants  to,  without 
being  dictated  to  by  every  manufacturer 
that  comes  along." 

And  he  told  him  the  tale  of  the  struggle 
up  to  date. 

"Well,"  said  Woods,  "it's  imposition 
of  the  worst  kind,  I  admit.  But  it  can't 
be  helped.  We're  up  against  much  the 
same  proposition  the  Indians  were,  when 
the  white  man  first  came  around.  They 
had  right  and  justice  on  their  side  all 
right,  but  it  didn't  cut  much  of  a  figure 
against .  the  paleface  guns.  The  Indians 
went  down  and  out,  and  I  guess  we'll 
follow  suit.  We  are  beginning  to  feel 
the  touch  of  the  thumbscrews  ourselves, 
up  at  the  house.  The  fact  is,  they've 
given  us  a  gentle  hint  that  if  we  keep  on 
selling  to  you,  they'll  smash  our  credit. 
Pleasant,  isn't  it?" 

"It's  a  cursed  outrage!"  exclaimed 
Fraser. 

"Exactly.  But  you'll  have  to  submit. 
So  will  we." 

"You  mean  that  you  have  agreed  not 
to  sell  me  goods?" 

"We  haven't  yet,  but  it's  coming  to 
that.  Man,  man,  can't  you  see  you're 
beaten  ?  You've  got  to  give  in.  What 
harm  can  you  do  such  a  corporation  as 
Turnables  when  the  httle  loss  they  sus- 
tain by  this  struggle  in  Renshaw  is  more 
than  made  up  by  an  imperceptible  raise 
in  prices  in  twenty  or  thirty  other  towns  ? 
When  I  was  a  rebellious  little  kid  they 


THE    LAST   TURN    OF   THE    SCREWS 


used  to  lock  me  up  in  a  dark  room  and  I 
used  to  raise  Ned  in  there  and  kick  my 
hardest  at  the  door,  but  it  never  did  any 
mortal  harm  to  anything  but  my  own 
toes.  I  learned  to  submit  in  those  days, 
and  the  experience  has  been  useful  to  me 
since.  You've  got  to  learn  it  now. 
They've  got  you  beat,  Fraser,  I  tell  you. 
The  Turnable  power  is  too  great  for  any 
one  man." 

"Submit?"  thundered  Fraser.  "Sub- 
mit to  such  an  imposition  as  that  ?  What 
do f you  take  me  for?  Not  as  long  as  I 
have  a  single  breath  in  my  body  or  one 
dollar  to  chink  against  another  will  I 
yield  to  any  such  damned,  unmitigated 
tyranny.  Why  it's  an  outrage!  It's  a 
disgrace  to  the  business  methods  of  the 
nineteenth  century!" 

"Well,  maybe,"  said  Woods,  as  he  rose 
to  go.  "But  don't  say  I  didn't  warn 
you." 

It  was  past  closing  time  and  the  clerks 
had  all  left.  Fraser  paced  like  a  tiger  up 
and  do\vn  the  shop,  every  fibre  of  his 
being  in  revolt  at  the  injustice.  It  was 
not  the  financial  loss  he  would  sustain 
either  by  selling  out  or  becoming  an  agent 
for  the  big  company  that  disturbed  him; 
he  would  have  faced  that  as  bravely  as 
he  had  many  another  trial.  It  was  the 
thought  of  seeing  his  cherished  business 
pass  into  other  hands,  of  having  his  shop 
degenerate  into  a  mere  storehouse  for 
Turnable  goods  that  seemed  as  bitter  as 
the  death  of  a  dearly  beloved  one.  It 
would  be  a  gross  ingratitude  to  so  defile 
the  business  that  had  stood  by  him 
through  good  and  evil  days.  And  he 
would  not  have  it  so.  Sooner  would  he 
face  death  itself. 

So  he  strode  back  and  forth  with  blazing 
eyes,  white  face  and  clenched  hands.  It 
was  the  same  light  that  had  burned  in 
many  another  Fraser's  eyes  in  days  gone 
by,  at  Flodden  and  Killecrankie  and 
CuUoden,  and  many  a  hard-fought  clan 
battle  and  fierce  foray.  And  from  far 
back  among  those  Highland  forbears, 
bom  of  their  turbulent  life  among  the 
grey  hills  and  wild  heather-clad  moor- 
lands, came  down  to  him,  clear  and  strong 
through  the  generations,  the  same  bold 
intolerance  of  oppression,  the  capacity 
for    sustained    vindictiveness,    and    the 


fierce-burning  Scottish  pride  that  deigned 
to  ask  quarter  from  no  man,  nor  knew 
any  commerce  with  an  enemy  but  the 
skene-dhu  beneath  the  fifth  rib.  At  that 
moment  Fraser  was  a  thoroughly  danger- 
ous man. 

Morley,  the  Renshaw  manager  for 
Turnable  &  Co.,  had  surely  never  chosen 
so  inopportune  a  moment  for  an  interview 
with  a  beaten  adversary. 

"I've  called  to  see  if  we  could  not  come 
to  some  agreement  about  handling  our 
goods,  Mr.  Fraser,"  he  said.  "You  see, 
even  though  the  commencement  of  hos- 
tilities cannot  be  laid  to  our  door,  we  are 
willing  to  make  some  little  sacrifice  to 
ensure  peace.  While  of  course  Turnable 
&  Co.  have  by  no  means  come  to  the  end 
of  their  resources,  they  are  aware  that 
any  commercial  strife  necessarily  entails 
considerable  loss.  Now  we  have  thought 
the  matter  over  very  carefully  and  we 
have  a  proposition  to  submit  to  you.  We 
are  willing  to  agree  to  adhere  to  any  rea- 
sonable scale  of  prices  which  you  may 
arrange,  if  you,  in  return,  will  pledge 
yourself  to  handle  our  products  exclusively. 
We  are  confident  that  you  will,  upon 
reflection,  see  the  expediency  of  embrac- 
ing this  offer,  which  is,  I  can  assure  you, 
much  more  generous  than  Turnable  &  Co. 
are  usually  disposed  to  make.  Person- 
ally, it  would  give  me  the  greatest  pleasure 
for  us  to  work  together  in  harmony  and 
— and — " 

His  voice  died  away  in  dismay  when 
Fraser  turned  upon  him  with  a  snarl  like 
a  timber  wolf. 

"You  are  willing  to  make  some  sacri- 
fice, are  you,  you  damned,  good,  pious 
soul?  And  I  began  the  hostilities,  did  I? 
Well  let  me  tell  you,  I  will  be  in  at  the 
death.  I  will  be  in  at  the  death.  D'you 
hear,  you  smirking  villain?" 

In  a  paroxysm  of  rage  he  sprang  for- 
ward and  seized  the  other  by  the  throat. 
Morley  was  a  young  man  and  muscular, 
but  he  was  an  infant  in  that  grasp.  The 
abnormal  excitement  of  the  last  few  min- 
utes had  momentarily  hardened  Fraser's 
flabby  muscles  into  sinews  worthy  the 
hind  leg  of  a  stag. 

"Now,  will  you  hear  my  answer?"  he 
shouted.  "TurnaJDle  &  Co.  can  go  to 
the  devil  with  their  srenerous  offer,  and  so 


28 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


can  you.  I  wouldn't  sell  a  single  can  of 
your  cursed  preparations  to  keep  my  soul 
from  burning  in  everlasting  hell.  D'you 
imderstand  that  for  plain,  do\\'nright  Eng- 
lish? It's  damned  seldom  that  you  can 
hear  any  straightforward  talking  around 
Tumable  &  Co.'s  premises,  I'll  be  bound. 
And  if  you  ever  dare  to  show  your  face 
again  about  my  place,  I'll  wring  yovir 
sparrow's  neck.  D'vou  imderstand  that  ? 
Eh?     Do  you?" 

And  with  every  question  he  gave  his 
man  a  shake,  finally  dropping  him  con- 
temptuously, a  hmp  figure,  leaning  heavily 
against  the  counter. 

"Bah I  I  suppose  it's  no  use  talking  to 
you,  who  are  only  a  sort  of  half-bred 
spaniel  after  all,  trained  to  retrieve  your 
master's  game:  I  must  see  Tumable 
himself.  He  is  the  man  to  answer  for 
this  insiilt.  And  he  shall,"  he  went  on, 
bringing  his  fist  down  with  a  bang  on  the 
counter,  "he  shall,  by  heavens!" 

Morley  retreated  to  the  door  and  stood 
there,  white  to  the  lips. 

"You  had  better  take  time  to  reflect, 
Eraser,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  that  floated 
thin  and  weak  upon  the  air  after  Eraser's 
bello^\'ing  thunders.  "You  are  not  your- 
self to-night." 

But  Eraser  had  already  turned  his  back 
upon  him. 

"Get  outl    Get  out'.  "  he  said. 

W.  H.  Tumable,  the  president  of  Tum- 
able &  Co.,  in  the  course  of  a  motor  tour, 
arrived  at  Niagara  Ealls,  N.Y.,  accom- 
panied by  his  wife  and  daughter.  They 
stopped  at  the  Cataract  House.  It  was 
the  very  night  of  Morley's  ignominious 
ejection  from  Eraser's  store,  and  the  next 
morning  Eraser  himself  strode  into  the 
Cataract  House  oflace.  His  clothes  were 
disordered,  his  face  was  very  white  and 
his  eyes  were  still  blazing.  The  clerk 
looked  at  him  curiously,  when  he  searched 
the  register.    Men  labouring  under  similar 


mental  excitement  at  the  Ealls  are  apt  to 
be  watched,  as  possible  pilgrims  to  Sui- 
cide's Point. 

At  9.30,  a  lady  and  gentleman  came 
down  the  stairs  on  their  way  to  the  en- 
trance. Eraser  inquired  of  the  clerk  who 
they  were.     Then  he  called  to  them. 

"  Mr.  Tumable,  I  want  to  see  you." 

The  gentleman  paused  and  stepped  for- 
ward to  the  ofl&ce  door. 

"My  name  is  I.  G.  Eraser.  I  am  a 
grocer  in  Renshaw  Ont.  I  am  probably 
the  last  one  you  have  ruined,  and  I  am 
determined  that  I  shall  be  the 'last  one 
you  ever  will  ruin.  Mrs.  Tumable,"  he 
went  on,  for  the  lady,  too,  was  now  stand- 
ing in  the  doorway,  "I  am  very  sorr\'  that 
yovir  husband's  rapacity  has  made  you  a 
widow." 

And  he  suddenly  produced  a  revolver 
and  fired.  But  during  this  speech  the 
clerk  had  had  time  to  realise  his  inten- 
tions. He  had  reached  for  a  box  of 
cigars  and  now  hurled  it  at  Eraser's  head. 
It  struck  him  fuU  in  the  face  just  as  he 
fired,  and  destroyed  his  aim.  The  bullet 
harmlessly  shivered  the  transom. 

Mr.  Tumable  seized  his  wife  and  swung 
her  into  safety  in  the  hall.  The  occu- 
pants of  the  room  dashed  forward  at 
Eraser.  He  fought  them  off  and  sprang 
back  against  the  farthest  wall,  then 
backed  slowly  into  the  billiard  room, 
where,  for  the  moment,  none  dared  to 
follow  him.  His  nctim  had  escaped  him 
after  all. 

"They've  got  you  beat,  Eraser,  I  tell 
you.  The  Tumable  power  is  too  great 
for  any  one  man."  Woods'  words  came 
to  him  now.  They  had  been  true,  even 
at  the  last. 

■  The  men  were  making  ready  again  for 
a  rush  into  the  room  at  him,  but  Eraser 
merely  glanced  at  them.  Then  he  turned 
the  revolver  upon  himseh'.  WTien  he 
fired  this  time  he  did  not  miss  his  aim. 


An  Editorial  Rainbow 

The  Strange  Experience  of  a  Canadian  Free  Lance 
By  G.  M.  L.  BROWN 


HIS  is  the  story,  as  I  have 
heard  Saunders  tell  it  over 
and  over  again.  Unfortu- 
nately his  modesty  has  not 
permitted  him  to  repeat  it 
bet  ore  authors  or  newspaper  men — for 
fear  of  publicity,  I  suppose.  To  me  this 
has  seemed  a  great  pity,  as  it  should  en- 
courage young  writers — especially  Cana- 
dian writers — to  persevere;  hence  I  give 
the  story  myself. 

Mter  Saunders  had  been  a  few  months 
in  New  York,  he  decided  to  confine  his 
literary  endeavours  to  short  stories,  for 
which  he  had  a  tolerably  sure  market  with 
seven  popular  magazines.  Toward  the 
end  of  his  first  year  in  the  city,  in  fact,  he 
found  that  he  had  sold  exactly  four 
stories  to  each  of  these  publications,  and 
had  consequently  received  therefrom  twen- 
ty-eight goodly  checks.  Not  content  with 
such  an  excellent  record,  however,  he  re- 
solved to  round  out  the  year  with  seven 
more  acceptances,  and  forthwith  settled 
down  to  his  task. 

After  two  weeks  of  strong  coffee,  gas- 
light, and  cigarettes,  he  had  the  satisfac- 
tion of  mailing  the  seventh  and  last  manu- 
script; whereupon  he  not  unwisely  de- 
cided to  take  a  rest.  The  title  of  the 
stories,  as  well  as  I  can  remember,  and 
the  names  of  the  magazines  he  sent  them 
to,  are  as  follows: 

THE  HOWL  OF  THE  WOLF— McPher- 

son's. 
TWO  LOVERS  AND  A  MAID— Crandall's 

Weeklv. 
THE  BRAVE  BUCCANEER— Anybody's 

Magazine. 
PERKINS  OF  SHEEP  RANCH  FAME— 

Purdv's. 
THE     WIND    FROM    THE    NORTH— 

Achievement. 
A^MAY   DAY  WEDDING — The   Ladies' 

Delight. 
AN  INTERPLANETARY  ROMANCE— 

The  UniversaL 

Saunders  had  weighed  the  matter  so 
thoroughly  before  making  this  allotment, 

29 


that  he  smiled  in  anticipation  of  speedy 
returns.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  returns 
came  promptly  enough,  but  were  not  of 
such  a  nature  as  to  gratify  a  rising  young 
author.  The  MSS.,  in  short,  were  re- 
jected— all  seven  of  them — with  a  una- 
nimity and  dispatch  as  admirable  as  it  was 
disconcerting.  Nothing  daunted,  how- 
ever, Saunders  readjusted  his  list  and 
sent  the  stories  out  in  the  following  order: 

THE  HOWL  OF  THE  WOLF— Purdy's. 

TWO  LOVERS  AND  A  MAID— Achieve- 
ment. 

THE  BRAVE  BUCCANEER— The  La- 
dies' Delight. 

PERKINS  OF  SHEEP  RANCH  FAME— 
The  Universal. 

THE  WIND  FROM  THE  NORTH— Mc- 
Pherson's. 

A  MAY  DAY  WEDDING — Crandall's 
Weekly. 

AN  INTERPLANETARY  ROMANCE— 
Anybody's  Magazine. 

This  combination  was  no  more  suc- 
cessful; moreover,  Saunders  noticed  with 
dismay  that  the  manuscripts  bore  e\-idence 
of  rough  usage  in  the  mail.  But  his  faith 
was  in  the  quality  of  the  fiction,  not  in 
outward  embellishments,  so  he  straight- 
way prepared  for  a  third  editorial  invasion. 
The  stories  were  now  directed: 

THE  HOWL  OF  THE  WOLF— The  La- 
dies' Delight. 

TWO  LOVERS  AND  A  MAID— The  Uni- 
versal. 

THE  BRAVE  BUCCANEER— McPher- 
son's. 

PERKINS  OF  SHEEP  RANCH  FAME— 
Crandall's  Weekly. 

THE  WIND  FROM  THE  NORTH— Any- 
body's Magazine. 

A  MAY  DAY  WEDDING — Purdy's. 

AN  INTERPLANETARY  ROMANCE— 
Achievement. 

The  results  were  no  better;  again  the 
MSS.  were  flung  back  at  him,  their  cor- 
ners doubled,  their  edges  frayed,  all  their 
crispness  gone — truly  a  sorry  lot,  thought 
Saunders,  as  he  surveyed  them.  Steam 
and  hot  irons,  however,  have 'a  wonder- 


30 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


fully  reviving  effect  upon  crumpled  paper, 
as  has  old  Scotch  and  Vichy  upon  a  dis- 
couraged writer;  so  that  in  half  an  hour's 
time  Saunders  had  seven  tolerably  respect- 
able looking  manuscripts  ready  once  more 
for  the  mail.  And  this  was  the  disposition 
that  he  made  of  them: 

THE  HOWL  OF  THE.WOLF— Crandalls 
Weekly. 

TWO  LOVERS  AND  A  MAID— Any- 
body's Magazine. 

THE  BRAVE  BUCCANEER— Purdy's. 

PERKINS  OF  SHEEP  RANCH  FAME— 
Achievement. 

THE  WIND  FROM  THE  NORTH— The 
Ladies'  Delight. 

A  MAY  DAY  WEDDING— The  Universal. 

AN  INTERPLANETARY  ROMANCE— 
McPherson's. 

Back  they  came  again — "'like  so  many 
homing  pigeons,"  Saunders  observed  to 
his  room-mate,  v.'ho  had  taken  no  slight 
interest  in  the  enterprise,  and  had  prof- 
fered the  advice  and  sympathy  usual  in 
such  circumstances. 

"But  I  can't  say  they  don't  work,"  he 
continued,  "for  they  bring  back  nice  Httle 
printed  messages  every  time.  I  hope  I'm 
not  exercising  them  too  hard!" 

And  he  sent  them  out  again,  as  follows: 

THE  HOWL  OF  THE  WOLF— The  Uni- 
versal. 

TWO  LOVERS  AND  A  MAID— Mc- 
Pherson's. 

THE  BRAVE  BUCCANEER— Crandall's 
Weekly. 

PERKINS  OF  SHEEP  RANCH  FAME— 
Anybody's  Magazine. 

THE  WIND  FROM  THE  NORTH— 
Purdy's. 

A  MAY  DAY  WEDDING — Achievement. 

AN  INTERPLANETARY  ROMANCE— 
The  Ladies'  Delight. 

After  the  return  of  the  last  straggler 
from  this  expedition,  Saunders  began  to 
find  the  arrangement  of  further  combina- 
tions a  difficult  matter. 

"I  don't  think  there  are  many  more 
combinations  to  make,"  he  remarked. 

His  room-mate  laughed.  "There  are 
exactly  two  more — can't  you  see  that?" 
he  asked.  "Unless,  of  course,  you  want 
to  send  them  around  a  second  time." 

Saunders  gritted  his  teeth  and  turned 
to  the  problem  before  him.  When  he 
had  solved  it,  he  stamped  and  addressed 
seven  new  envelopes;  and  the  manuscripts 
went  out  in  this  order: 


THE  HOWL  OF  THE  WOLF— Any- 
body's Magazine. 

TWO  LOVERS  AND  A  MAID— Purdvs, 

THE  BRAVE  BUCCANEER— Achieve- 
ment. 

PERKINS  OF  SHEEP  RANCH  FAME— 
The  Ladies'  Dehght. 

THE  WIND  FROM  THE  NORTH— The 
Universal. 

A  MAY  DAY  AVEDDING— McPherson's. 

AN  INTERPLANETARY  ROMANCE— 
Crandall's  Weekly. 

With  the  septet  again  arrayed  upon  his 
desk,  Saunders  became  so  discouraged 
that  he  began  to  think  of  forsaking  htera- 
ture  for  the  surer  paths  of  commerce.  He 
had  recently  been  offered  a  position  in  the 
Klondyke,  and  the  more  he  thought  of  it 
the  less  distasteful  the  proposal  appeared. 
After  some  reflection  he  decided  to  give 
the  recalcitrant  editors  one  final  chance, 
and  let  the  results  determine  his  course  of 
action.  Surmising,  however,  what  the 
outcome  would  be,  he  craftily  made  cap- 
ital of  a  probable  event  to  render  the  same 
improbable.  In  short,  he  enclosed  fare- 
well letters  with  each  manuscript,  hoping 
thereby  to  lessen  materially  his  chance  of 
going.  There  was  but  one  remaining 
combination  to  adopt,  so  the  stories  were 
directed: 

THE  HOWL  OF  THE  WOLF— Achieve- 
ment. 

TWO  LOVERS  AND  A  MAID— The  La- 
dies' Dehght. 

THE  BRAVE  BUCCANEER— The  Uni- 
versal. 

PERKINS  OF  SHEEP  RANCH  FAME— 
McPherson's. 

THE  WIND  FROM  THE  NORTH— 
Crandall's  Weekly. 

A  MAY  DAY  WEDDING— Anybody's 
Magazine. 

AN  INTERPLANETARY  ROMANCE— 
Purdy's. 

When  the  unlucky  missives  were  safely 
on  their  way,  Saunders  breathed  a  sigh  of 
rehef.  He  had  played  his  last  card,  and 
he  defied  Fate  to  do  her  worst.  Conse- 
quently his  face  wore  the  smile  of  con- 
tentment that  generally  comes  at  such  a 
crisis.  If  he  couldn't  live  in  the  East 
there  was  a  home  for  him  in  the  West,  so 
the  editors  be  — I  In  this  frame  of  mind 
he  began  to  speculate  as  to  which  story 
would  be  back  first.  The  "Wolf"  had 
generally  been  in  the  lead,  but  he  now 
favoured  the  "Buccaneer,"  even  to  betting 


AN    EDITORIAL    RAINBOW 


31 


half  a  dollar  with  his  room-mate  on  that 
manuscript.  On  the  eve  of  the  anniver- 
sary of  his  arrival  in  New  York,  he  began 
to  pack  his  trunk. 

The  day  following,  as  if  by  appoint- 
ment, the  stories  came  trooping  back,  the 
"Wolf"  again  in  the  lead,  but  the  other 
six  close  on  its  heels.  Saunders  received 
them  with  a  good-natured  laugh  and 
placed  them  in  his  open  trunk.  After 
handing  fifty  cents  to  his  room-mate,  how- 
ever, he  decided  that  the  waste  basket  was 
a  better  place  for  such  material,  and  ac- 
cordingly tossed  them  out  upon  the  floor. 
There  they  lay,  seven  disreputable,  use- 
less documents  with  an  aggregate  postage 
charge  against  them,  as  Saunders  esti- 
mated, of  seven  dollars  and  eighty-four 
cents.     It  was  exasperating. 

Seizing  a  broom  he  began  to  sweep 
them  into  the  comer,  hastening  the  opera- 
tion by  an  occasional  well-aimed  kick. 
No  words  could  so  well  have  expressed 
his  sentiments.  As  he  did  so,  however, 
he  noticed  that  a  slip  of  red  protruded 
from  one  of  the  envelopes.  He  stooped 
to  investigate  and  found  it  to  be  a  check 
from  McPherson's  for  fifty  dollars.  The 
editor  informed  him  in  the  accompanying 
note  that  he  deeply  regretted  Saunder's 
change  of  plans,  and  wished  verv-  much  to 
procure  another  story  from  him  before  he 
should  leave.  "Perkins  of  Sheep  Ranch 
Fame,"  unfortunately,  was  too  similar  to 
a  story  they  had  recently  accepted  to 
prove  available,  but  if  Mr.  Saunders  could 
return  to  them  "The  Howl  of  the  Wolf," 
which  they  had  inadvertently  let  shp 
through  their  fingers,  they  would  gladly 
pay  him  the  sum  of  fifty  dollars,  a  check 


for  which  they  begged  to  enclose.  If^Mr. 
Saunders  had  already  parted  with  that 
admirable  story,  could  he  not  write  them 
another  on  similar  lines?  Furthermore, 
should  he  reconsider  his  trip  to  the  West, 
they  were  in  a  position  to  promise  him 
several  valuable  commissions  in  the  near 
future.  In  any  case,  they  desired  Mr. 
Saunders  to  run  in  and  see  them  that  they 
might  have  the  pleasure  of  discussing  the 
matter  with  him. 

Well,  you  may  believe  it  or  not,  just  as 
you  choose,  but  the  other  editors  had  done 
the  very  same  thing — returned  the  last 
MS.  and  asked  for  the  stor}'  that  Saunders 
had  submitted  in  the  first  place.  Each 
editor,  moreover,  enclosed  a  check,  and 
the  seven  checks  totalled  exactly  three 
himdred  and  fifty  dollars.  It  was  a  tre- 
mendous triumph  for  Saunders,  being,  as 
his  room-mate  pointed  out,  no  less  a 
tribute  to  his  judgment  and  diplomacy 
than  to  his  persistence  and  grit. 

But  the  most  unique  part  of  the  affair 
has  yet  to  be  told,  and,  really  this  might 
seem  to  savour  of  the  improbable.  Each 
of  those  seven  checks,  it  appears,  was  of  a 
different  colour,  and  the  more  Saunders 
looked  at  them  the  more  puzzled  he  be- 
came. After  he  had  re-directed  the  MSS. 
to  their  final  destination,  he  arranged  the 
checks  on  the  desk  and  gazed  hard  and 
thoughtfully.  Then  a  light  broke  upon 
him.  The  checks  were  of  the  seven  pris- 
matic colours — red,  orange,  yellow,  green, 
blue,  indigo,  and  violet. 

"A  perfect  rainbow!"  he  called  excit- 
edly to  his  room-mate,  his  eyes  fastened 
on  the  bits  of  colour;  "I  take  that  as  a 
promise  of  a  great  career." 


The  Fallacy  of  the  Young  Nation 


HERE  are  two  British  writers 
of  the  present  day  whom  it 
Aould  be  both  dangerous 
and  untrue  to  term  ''com- 
mon-place." They  are 
George  Bernard  Shaw  and  Gilbert  K. 
Chesterton.  We  may  declare  of  the 
latter  what  we  may  not  of  the  former: 
he  frequently  cheers  and  never  irritates. 
In  his  essay  on  the  subject  of  young  na- 
tions, falsely  so-called,  Mr.  Chesterton 
makes  some  startling  assertions  which 
are  of  immediate  interest  to  Canadians  as 
well  as  to  the  many  millions  popularly 
called  Americans: 

"I  wish  to  speak  of  a  general  delusion. 
It  pervades  the  minds  and  speeches  of  all 
the  practical  men  of  all  parties;  and  it  is 
a  childish  blunder  built  upon  a  single 
false  metaphor.  I  refer  to  the  universal 
modern  talk  about  young  nations  and 
new  nations;  about  America  being 
young;  about  New  Zealand  being  new. 
The  whole  thing  is  a  trick  of  words. 
America  is  not  young,  New  Zealand  is  not 
new.  It  is  a  very  discussable  question 
whether  they  are  not  both  much  older 
than  England  or  Ireland. 

"Of  course  we  may  use  the  metaphor 
of  youth  about  America  or  the  colonies, 
if  we  use  it  strictly  as  implying  only  a 
recent  origin.  But  if  we  use  it  (as  we  do 
use  it)  as  implying  vigour,  or  vivacity,  or 
crudity,  or  inexperience,  or  hope,  or  a 
long  life  before  them,  or  any  of  the  ro- 
mantic attributes  of  youth,  then  it  is  surely 
as  clear  as  daylight  that  we  are  duped  by 
a  stale  figure  of  speech.  .  .  That  America 
was  founded  long  after  England  does  not 
make  it,  even  in  the  faintest  degree,  more 
probable  that  America  will  not  perish  a 
long  time  before  England.  That  England 
existed  before  her  colonies,  does  not  make 
it  any  the  less  likely  that  she  will  exist 
after  her  colonies.  When  we  look  at  the 
actual  history  of  the  world,  we  find  that  if 
there  is  a  thing  that  is  born  old  and  dies 
young,  it  is  a  colony. 
32 


"The  colonies  may  have  given  England 
a  new  emotion;  I  only  say  that  they  have 
not  given  the  world  a  new  book. 

"Touching  these  EngUsh  colonies,  I 
do  not  wish  to  be  misunderstood.  I  do 
not  say  of  them,  or  of  America,  that  they 
have  not  a  future,  or  that  they  will  not  be 
great  nations.  .  .  All  the  absurd  physical 
metaphors,  such  as  youth  and  age,  living 
and  dying,  are,  when  applied  to  nations, 
but  pseudo-scientific  attempts  to  conceal 
from  men  the  awful  liberty  of  their  lonely 
souls. 

"There  are  three  main  shapes  or  sym- 
bols in  which  a  nation  can  show  itseK 
essentially  glad  and  great — by  the  heroic 
in  government,  by  the  heroic  in  arms,  and 
by  the  heroic  in  art.  Beyond  govern- 
ment, which  is,  as  it  were,  the  very  shape 
and  body  of  a  nation,  the  most  significant 
thing  about  any  citizen  is  his  artistic 
attitude  towards  a  holiday  and  his  moral 
attitude  towards  a  fight — that  is,  his  way 
of  accepting  life  and  his  way  of  accepting 
death. 

"When  we  come  to  the  last  test  of 
nationality,  the  test  of  art  and  letters,  the 
case  is  almost  terrible.  The  English 
colonies  have  produced  no  great  artists; 
and  that  fact  may  prove  that  they  are 
still  full  of  silent  possibilities  and  reserve 
force.  But  America  has  produced  great 
artists.  And  that  fact  most  certainly 
proves  that  she  is  full  of  a  fine  futility  and 
the  end  of  all  things.  Whatever  the 
American  men  of  genius  are,  they  are  not 
young  gods  making  a  young  world.  Is 
the  art  of  Whistler  a  brave,  barbaric  art, 
happy  and  headlong?  Does  Mr.  Henry 
James  infect  us  with  the  spirit  of  a  school- 
boy? No;  the  colonies  have  not  spoken 
and  they  are  safe.  Their  silence  may  be 
the  silence  of  the  unborn.  But  out  of 
America  has  come  a  sweet  and  startling 
cry,  as  unmistakable  as  the  cry  of  a 
dying  man." 

But  has  Mr.  Chesterton  read  Mark 
Twain  ? 


VlliW    OF    FORT    WILLIAM    HARBOUR,  SHOWING    C.P.R.  ELEVA'KiK     B 


The  Port  of  Western  Canada 

By  J.  R.  LUMBY 

From  the  flash  of  the  Indian  paddle,  to  the  throb  of  the  steamer's  screw; 
From  the  halting  steps  of  the  old  days,  to  the  rush  of  the  busy  new; 
From  the  mart  of  the  trapper's  peltry,  to  the  port  where  back  and  forth 
Plv  the  laden  treasure-vessels  of  the  Empress  of  the  North. 


SEA-PORT  in  the  centre 
of  a  continent,  lying  almost 
midwav  between  the  Atlantic 
and  the  Pacific  oceans,  the 
spot  where  now  stands  the 
town  uf  1  ort  William,  has  long  been  the 
rendezvous  and  starting-point  of  all 
who  journey  westward  beyond  the  Great 
Lakes  into  the  grassy  plains  of  the  western 
prairies.  It  was  here  that  the  two  great 
rivals  for  the  trade  of  that  then  unknown 
empire  planted  their  most  important 
trading-posts.  Later,  when  the  North- 
west Fur  Company  combined  with  its 
powerful  rival  (anticipating,  by  nearly  a 
century,  the  methods  of  modern  trusts), 
it  was  near  the  mouth  of  the  Kaministiquia 
"River  that  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company 
of  adventurers  established  the  fort  that 
for  years  witnessed  the  annual  foregather- 
ing of  the  traders,  whose  army,  scattered 
for  twelve  months  from  Lake  Superior  to 
the  Rocky  ^lountains,  from  the  Missouri 
in  the  south  to  the  Mackenzie  river  in  the 
north,  once  a  year  swept  in  their  bales  of 

3—33 


furs  to  this  pivotal  point,  and  received  the 
supplies  which  would  carry  them  through 
the  twelve  months  of  barter  and  hunting 
which  must  elapse  before  the  ne.xt  re- 
union. 

Side  by  side  with  the  trader  came  the 
other  great  pioneering  force  of  the  white 
man.  Almost  as  soon  as  the  men  of  com- 
merce had  built  a  fort,  the  black-robed 
Jesuit  Fathers  were  establishing  a  mission, 
taking  possession  of  the  south  bank  of  the 
river,  upon  one  of  the  islands  forming  a 
delta  at  its  mouth.  Subsequently  they 
re-located  their  church,  their  convent,  and 
their  schools  upon  the  mainland  higher 
up  the  stream,  where  they  remain  to-day, 
soon  however  to  be  removed  to  further  the 
plans  of  the  remorseless  commercialism 
of  the  twentieth  centur}\  A  span  of  only 
thirty  years  divides  the  old  order  of 
things  from  the  new.  It  is  only  thirty 
years  ago  that  the  Canadian  Government, 
after  the  planting  of  a  straggling  settlement 
of  farmers  in  Manitoba  by  Lord  Selkirk, 
and  the  rise  and  fall  of  the  first  half-breed 


34 


I'HE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


KAKABEKA    FALLS,    SIXTEEN    MILES    FROM    FORT    WILLIAM 


rebellion  under  Louis  Riel,  decided  to 
connect  the  east  and  the  west  by  a  hne  of 
railway,  and  took  the  initial  steps  which 
have  resulted  in  making  Fort  William 
the  centre  of  the  railway  systems  which 


radiate  through  the  Western  provinces 
as  it  formerly  was  the  focal  point  at  which 
the  trails  of  the  voyageur  converged. 

With  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  the 
past  of  the  town  was  intimately  bound  up. 


EMPIRE    ELEVATOR   AT  THE    MOUTH    OF    KAMINISTIQUIA    RIVER.      FIRST   IXDEPEXDENT 
ELEVATOR    BUILT.      CAPACITY,   1,500,000   BUSHELS 


riiK  I'oirr  of  western  Canada 


3.5 


and  tlie  changes  w hirh  ha\c  re\ Diulionised 
the  old  company  are  mirrored  ui  the  trans- 
formation of  their  fort  from  trading-post 
t(j  city.  Tile  Ijiiilding  up  of  a  modern 
industrial  civilisation  in  Western  Canada 
has  turned  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company 
post  to  a  replica  of  the  departmental  store 
of  the  east,  and  replaced  the  leather- 
shirted,  moccasined  factor  by  a  stafY  of 
well-groomed  clerks  and  damsels.  In  like 
manner  it  has  torn  down  their  stone  fortifi- 
cations on  the  river  bank  to  make  room 
for  the  terminal  works  of  a  great  railway- 
system,  built  elevators  and  huge  freight 
sheds  in  lieu  of  the  old  warehouses,  while 
the  last  remaining  relic  of  the  fort  is  con- 
verted into  the  ofiices  for  the  coal  plant  of 
the  Canadian  Pacific  Railway,  where 
over  half  a  million  tons  of  coal  are  annually 
passed  over  the  docks  to  be  used  up  in  the 
industries  of  the  West. 

It  was,  after  all,  the  same  natural  ad- 
vantages which  made  the  banks  of  the 
Kaministiquia  River  the  trysting  place  of 
the  fur  traders  which  has  made  them  the 
terminal  point  for  the  great  trans-contin- 
ental railways.  Given  a  deep,  wide 
stream,  readily  made  navigable  to  vessels 
of  the  deepest  draught,  the  natural  depth 
of  the  river  being  thirty  feet,  place  tribu- 
tary to  this  a  hinterland  as  illimitable  and 
with  such  possibiHties  and  actualities  of 
wealth  as  the  Canadian  West,  and  the 
combination  is  bound  to  give  rise  to  an 
important  city.  It  is  this  which  convinces 
Canadians  that  the  western  port  of  Lake 
Superior  must  of  necessity  become  a  rival 
in  size,  wealth  and  commerce  of  anv  of  the 


American  lake  port  towns  which  ha\  e  l;een 
fostered  by  the  settlement  and  develoj;- 
ment  of  the  Western  States.  The  growth 
of  this  port  is  not  a  matter  of  merely  local 
concern,  it  is  one  of  national  interest  to 
the  whole  Dominion,  and  the  increasing 
expenditure  of  public  money  upon  harbour 
works  and  improvements  shows  that  the 
fact  is  recognised  at  Ottawa. 

As  the  lake  terminal  of  the  Canadian 
Pacific  Railwa}',  Fort  William  moved 
slowly  forward,  keeping  pace  with  the  slow 
development  that  marked  the  first  decade 
of  Western  settlement.  A  second  trans- 
continental railway  was  projected  and 
came  into  being,  and,  under  the  skilful 
management  of  Messrs.  Mackenzie  and 
Mann,  the  Canadian  Northern  became 
a  factor  in  the  building  up  of  the  ^^'est. 
Their  lake  terminal  was  at  Port  Arthur, 
on  the  shores  of  the  bay  about  four  miles 
from  Fort  William,  their  line  of  railwav 


CANADIAN-    PACIFIC    COAL    DOCKS    OX    SITE    OF    HUDSON'S    BAV    COMPANY'S    FORT 


30 


THE    CANADL\N    MAGAZINE 


GENERAL    VIEW    OF    R.C.    MISSION" 
The  property  on  which  the  Grand  Trunk  Pacific  will  have  its  terminals.     It  contains  1,600  acres' 


traversing  Fort  William,  with  a  spur  track 
tapping  the  river  frontage.  But  the 
movement  westward  acquired  such  im- 
petus that  a  third  railway  became  a  neces- 
sity, if  Canada  were  to  keep  control  of  her 
owTi  trade,  and  Sir  Wilfrid  Laurier's  gov- 
ernment launched  the  Grand  Trunk 
Pacific  Railway  project,  which  is  now  on 
the  high  way  to  becoming  an  accomplished 
fact.  For  the  lake  port  of  this  third  rail- 
way, the  management  chose  Fort  William, 
and  acquired  a  tract  of  sixteen  hundred 
acres  on  the  south  bank  of  the  river,  op- 
posite to  the  river  frontage  of  the  Canadian 
Pacific  Railway.  They  have  purchased 
their  lands  from  the  Indians,  of  whose 
reserve  they  formed  a  part.  This  has 
rendered  necessary-  a  second  exodus  of  the 
Mission,  with  its  churches  and  convent, 
to  a  point  farther  down  the  lake  where,  for 
a  time  at  least,  the  priests  and  their  little 
flock  of  Christian  natives  can  rest  undis- 
turbed by  the  insistent  demands  of  modern 
industrialism,     .\lreadv    the    new    homes 


for  the  Indian  villagers  are  being  built,  and 
in  a  year  from  now  the  house  of  the  priests 
will  have  passed  from  the  possession  of  the 
Jesuit  Fathers,  and  become  the  office 
quarters  of  the  new  railway. 

Fort  William  pays  three  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars  to  the  Grand  Trunk  Pacific 
when  their  terminal  works  are  completed, 
these  improvements  amounting  to  more 
than  a  million  dollars,  and  in  return  for 
this  the  whole  of  the  area  purchased  by 
the  railway  company  is  added  to  the  limits 
of  the  corporation.  It  is  taxable  for  school 
purposes,  becoming  liable  for  all  taxes  in 
the  event  of  its  being  used  for  anything  but 
terminal  works,  and  in  any  event  becoming 
taxable  in  ever}-  respect  after  fifteen  years. 
This  arrangement  has  in  some  quarters 
been  characterised  as  a  hard  one  for  the 
to-o-n,  but  few  of  the  people  would  alter  it, 
if  any  proposed  change  involved  the  estab- 
lishing of  a  rival  town  on  the  southern 
bank  of  the  Kaministiquia  River. 

'While  the  interest  of  two  powerful  trans- 


'I'm:  poirr  ov  western  Canada 


CONCRETE    I'll'E    lu',    FEET    IX    DIAMETER    LEADING    FROM    INTAKE    TO    FOREBAY    OR    RESERVOIR 


portation  companies  was  turned  to  the 
upbuilding  of  this  port,  other  agencies 
were  not  lacking,  tending  towards  the 
same  end.  Sixteen  miles  from  Fort  Wil- 
liam lie  the  famous  Kakabeka  Falls,  over 
which  the  whole  of  the  waters  of  the 
Kaministiquia  tumble,  with  a  potential 
energy  of  probably  200,000  horse-power. 
For  many  years  capitalists  have  had  in 
view  the  harnessing  of  this  power,  but  it 
was  only  in  1905  that  the  work  was 
undertaken  by  Messrs.  Hosmer,  Holt  and 
Thompson,  who  organised  as  the  Kamin- 
istiquia Power  Company,  and  set  to  work 
with  such  vigour  that  there  is  now  available 
14,000  horse-power  delivered  at  the  com- 
pany's central  distributing  station  in  the 
town  of  Fort  William.  Part  of  this  is  be- 
spoken, but  the  greater  portion  is  still  on 
the  market  at  reasonable  rates  for  the  use 
of  manufacturers.  Cheap  electric  power, 
together  with  the  low  freight  rates  by 
water  on  raw  material  from  eastern  points 
to  Fort  William,  form  a  combination  that 
will  have,  in  fact  is  now  having,  a  powerful 
effect  in  attracting  manufacturers  to  a 
point    where    they    have    the    expanding 


markets  of  the  whole  of  the  Canadian 
West  brought  in  touch  with  them  by  three 
lines  of  railway  which  converge  in  Fort 
William,  at  a  point  where  the  three  tracks 
almost  coincide.  The  Canadian  Iron  and 
Foundry  Company  have  commenced  work 
on  a  large  plant  for  the  manufacture  of 
car-wheels,  iron  waterpipe,  and  heavy 
castings,  and  other  works  are  in  contempla- 
tion, while  the  building  by  independent 
grain  companies  of  terminal  elevators  is 
adding  yearly  to  the  storage  capacity  in  the 
town,  which  now  totals  12,000,000  bushels. 
The  turning  on  of  the  electric  current 
bv  the  Kaministiquia  Power  Company 
marks  an  era  in  the  history  of  the  town 
no  less  important  than  those  ushered  in 
by  the  turning  of  the  first  sod  of  the 
Canadian  Pacific  Railway  at  Fort  William, 
or  the  similar  ceremony  which  took  place, 
thirty  years  later,  when  Sir  Wilfrid  Laurier 
turned  the  first  sod  of  the  Grand  Trunk 
Pacific.  By  special  arrangement  with 
the  power  company  it  was  left  to  Presi- 
dent Cockshutt,  of  the  Canadian  Manu- 
facturers' Association,  to  press  the  button 
which  started  the  first  wheels  moving  bv 


38 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


TWO    SEVEN -FOOT    P3XSTOCKS    FROM    FOREBAY    TO    POWER    HOUSE,     1 8o    FEET   OF    HEAD 


the  new  power.  At  the  luncheon  given  to 
the  visiting  manufacturers  by  the  town,  a 
small  printing  press  was  installed  in  the 
room,  and  arranged  so  as  to  be  driven  by 
an  individual  motor  supplied  with  its 
motive    power    from    the    new    source. 

When  the  President  completed  the  con- 
nection, badges  commemorative  of  the 
occasion  were  printed  in  the  sight  of  the 
company  and  distributed  to  the  guests 
as  mementoes  of  the  completion  of  this 
great  project.  Nothing  could  have  been 
devised  that  would  more  thoroughly 
impress  upon  the  minds  of  the  interested 
spectators  the  fact  that  fresh  opportunities 
for  manufacturing  were  now  being  opened 
up  at  the  head  of  lakes  and  at  the  gate- 
way of  the  newest  West. 

Across  the  Kaministiquia,  just  below 
the  intake,  a  dam  has  been  thrown,  20 
feet  in  height,  there  being  alreadv  a 
depth  of  14  feet  in  the  river  at  this  point. 
The  design  of  this  dam  is  such  as  to  ad- 
mit the  passage  of  the  maximum  flow  of 
water,  without  materially  affecting  the 
levels  of  the  upper  reaches  of  the  river 


when  it  is  in  flood,  while  retaining  enough 
to  keep  the  big  flume  filled  to  its  capacity 
even  when  the  stream  is  at  its  lowest. 

From  the  point  of  intake  to  the  outlet 
into  the  main  reservoir,  which  is  on  the 
brow  of  a  steep  ridge  overlooking  the 
site  of  the  power-house,  180  feet  below, 
this  pipe  lies  practically  level  for  a  dis- 
tance of  7,000  feet,  and  after  being  dis- 
charged into  this  reservoir  the  water  is 
divided  and  flows  through  two  seven- 
foot  j)enstocks  that  run  at  a  steep  incline 
to  the  waterwheels  on  the  bank  of  the  river. 

The  reservoir  into  which  the  flume 
discharges  is  a  massive  structure  of  con- 
crete and  steel,  from  which  are  fed  two 
steel  penstocks  leading  direct  to  the  tur- 
bine wheels,  180  feet  below.  Each  of 
these  wheels  will  be  capable  of  develop- 
ing 7,000  horse-power,  the  initial  develop- 
ment which  is  now  under  way  being 
thus  14,000  horse-power.  The  plans 
are,  however,  being  prepared,  and  the 
work  laid  out  so  as  to  permit  of  this  be- 
ing doubled  at  any  time  by  the  building 
of    a    second   flume   and    providing    two 


SISTERS    OF    SORROW 


39 


addilioiKil  penstocks,  all  the  rest  of  the 
|)lanl  being  capable  of  \V(orking  to  the 
double   cai)acity. 

Meantime  the  town  itself,  recognising 
its  responsibilities,  has  not  been  backward 
in  munici])al  improvements.  An  alarm  of 
lyi)ht)id  fever  in  the  latter  part  of  the  winter 
of  1905  and  1906  has  caused  the  construc- 
tion of  a  gra\-it}-  water  system  from  a  lake 
l)ehind  Mount  McKay,  whence,  from  an 
elevation  of  350  feet,  an  ample  supply  of 
pure  water,  under  great  pressure,  is  ob- 
tained, sufficient  to  supply  a  city  of  100,000 
inhabitants.  This  water  system,  electric 
lighting,  telephone  and  all  public  utilities, 
are  owned  by  the  municipality,  with  the 
result  that  the  public  is  served  at  a  mini- 
mum cost,  and  any  profit  accruing  there- 
from is  for  the  benefit  of  the  entire  com- 
munity. 

With  the  enormous  increase  of  popula- 
tion now  taking  place  in  the  newer  west 
of  Canada,  an  increase  which  has  not  yet 
reached  its  maximum  speed,  and  with  the 
wealth  which  is  being  accumulated,  creat- 
ing new  markets  and  a  demand  for  every 
accessory  of  civiHsed  life,  it  is  only  reason- 
able to  conjecture  that  at  some  point  con- 
venient to  this  territory  there  must  be 
estabHshed  a  manufacturing  and  distribut- 
ing centre  from  which  the  whole  Western 
Territory  will  be  supplied.  Despite  the 
fact  that  adventitious  circumstances  have 
built  up  important  cities  inland,  it  still 
seems  more  than  probable,  almost  certain, 
that  the  largest  portion  of  that  trade  will 
be  done  at  the  head  of  navigation,  at  the 
point  indicated  by  the  natural  facilities 
which  make  Fort  \\'illiam  the  common 
gathering  place  of  the  earliest  pioneers 
in  western  trade. 


Although  for  a  time  the  chance  action 
of  men  may  direct  commerce  from  its 
natural  channel,  yet  in  the  end  the  laws 
of  nature  will  demand  that  it  shall  follow 
the  line  of  least  resistance;  and  then 
the  Canadian  city  at  the  head  of  Lake 
Superior  will  occupy  the  positicjn  which 
has  been  secured  by  ports  similarly  situat- 
ed on  the  inland  lake  frontage  of  the 
United  States.  Nothing  can  now  check 
the  progress  of  the  West,  and  no  place  is 
more  intimately  bound  up  with  and  more 
sensitive  to  the  welfare,  or  the  reverse,  of 
the  West  than  Fort  A\'illiam. 

Prosperity  demands  both  the  oppor- 
tunity and  the  man.  The  re.sources  may 
be  golden,  but  he  who  makes  use  of  them 
must  have  the  wit  to  recogni.se  their 
auriferous  i)ossil)ilities.  In  Canada,  the 
occasion  has  usually  brought  with  it 
those  who  have  the  facility  for  develop- 
ment, and  this  has  been  the  history  of 
the  fort-named  town.  By  the  irony  of 
fate  the  harnessing  of  Kakabeka  Falls 
has  fallen  into  the  hands  of  parties  to- 
tally unconnected  with  the  two  original 
contestants  for  the  right  of  ownership. 

The  forecast  made  by  Lord  Du fieri n 
concerning  the  West  was  considered 
wildly  extravagant  thirty  years  ago.  But 
the  great  diplomat  was  a  seer  as  well, 
and  his  words  have  been  amply  fulfilled. 
There  is  nothing  tentative  or  experi- 
mental about  the  preparations  being 
made  to  meet  the  demands  of  a  large  and 
vigorous  population  in  the  region  be- 
tween the  Great  Lakes  and  the  Rockies. 
WTierefore,  Fort  William  may  at  no  dis- 
tant date  find  itself  in  a  prouder  position 
than  ancient  Venice,  holding  both  the 
East  and  West  in  fee. 


Sisters  of  Sorrow 


BY    IXGLIS    MORSE 


Vl^HEN  daylight  fades 
^^    The  stars  appear; 
When  Sorrow  bides 

Then  Faith  is  near. 
When  dark  Despair 

Sits  by  the  tomb, 
Then  Hope  dispels 

Th'  enshrouding  gloom 


A   GLIMPSE    OF    THE    GRAXD    TRUNK    RAILWAY    SYSTEM.       DOUBLE    TRACK    ROUTE    BETWEEN 

MONTREAL    AND    CHICAGO 


The  Linking  of  Montreal  and  Toronto 


Fiftv  V'ears  of  Railroad  Communication 
B\  W.  ARXOT  CRAICK 


\  Monday,  October  27th, 
1S56,  an  event  occurred  in 
the  history  of  the  Canadian 
people,  wliich  was  heralded 
by  >the  press  of  that  day  as 
"  undouljtedly  the  most  notable  in  the 
annals  of  our  country." 

For  the  first  time  rail  communication 
between  the  two  foremost  cities  of  Canada 
— Montreal  and  Toronto — had  been  defi- 
nitely established  and  trains  had  traversed 
the  entire  length  of  the  line  in  both  direc- 
tions with  safety  and  despatch.  The 
inauguration  of  this  service  on  that  day 
by  the  Grand  Trunk  Railway  Company 
marked  the  culmination  of  the  labour  of 
years.  It  was  an  event  which  was  as 
epoch-making  to  the  people  of  Canada 
then  as  was  the  completion  of  the  Cana- 
dian Pacific  Railway  across  the  continent 
to  a  later  generation. 

It  was  in  1852  that  the  Grand  Trunk 
Railway  project  was  decided  upon,  and 
the    work    of    construction    begun,    with 

40 


Messrs.  Jackson,  Peto,  Brassey  and  Betts 
as  contractors.  At  first  money  was  pro- 
curable at  the  low  rate  of  two  and  one- 
half  per  cent.,  and  the  work  was  carried 
along  expeditiously.  Unfortunately  the 
outbreak  of  the  Crimean  War  raised  the 
rate  to  seven  per  cent.,  and  the  outlook 
became  very  dark.  In  this  emergency 
the  Government  was  appealed  to,  and, 
by  means  of  large  subsidies,  succeeded  in 
keeping  building  operations  going.  Fin- 
ally, after  a  great  many  obstacles  had  been 
surmounted,  the  last  rail  was  spiked  down. 

On  October  20th,  the  first  train  to  make 
the  through  trip  from  Montreal  to  Toronto 
reached  the  latter  city,  having  on  board 
Mr.  A.  M.  Ross,  the  chief  engineer  of  the 
company;  ^Ir.  Betts,  one  of  the  con- 
tractors, and  several  officials.  Though  the 
work  of  ballasting  had  not  been  com- 
pleted excellent  time  was  made,  a  speed 
of  forty,  fifty,  and,  at  times,  sixty  miles 
an  hour  ha\-ing  been  obtained. 

On    the    following    Mondav    all    was 


THE  T.INKIXC;  OF  MONTREAL  AND  TORONTO     41 


bl'A.NUARD    t.KAXU    TKUXK    LOCOMOTIVE    uF    Fibl\     \t.\Ks    Aou 


in  readiness  to  inaugurate  the  regular 
through  service.  In  accordance  with 
the  notices,  which  had  been  inserted  in 
the  newspapers  of  both  cities  during  the 
preceding  week,  a  train  left  Toronto  for 
Montreal  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
and  half  an  hour  later  a  similar  train  was 
despatched  from  the  eastern  terminus, 
en  route  for  Toronto.  Both  trains  were 
made  up  of  three  first-class  and  three 
second-class  coaches,  and  both  carried  a 
goodly  number  of  passengers  and  the  mails. 
Among  those  on  board  the  Toronto  train 
were  Sir  John  Beverlev  Robinson  and 
Mr.  A.  M.  Ross. 

All  things  considered,  excellent  time  was 
made.     District    headquarters    at    Belle- 


ville and  Brockville  were  reached  very 
nearly  on  schedule,  and  about  two  o'clock 
the  two  trains  steamed  into  the  depot  at 
Kingston.  After  a  stop  of  half  an  hour 
the  journey  was  resumed.  There  was  an 
absence  of  demonstration  along  the  line, 
and  only  a  few  curious  spectators  were  to 
be  observed  at  the  various  stations. 

Towards  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening  a 
crowd  began  to  congregate  at  the  Don 
Station,  then  the  terminus  of  the  railroad 
in  Toronto,  in  order  to  welcome  the  first 
passengers  to  arrive  in  the  city  by  rail  from 
Montreal.  The  train  was  due  at  half-past 
nine,  but  it  was  after  ten  before  the  head- 
light of  the  locomotive  was  descried  com- 
ina:  down  the  Scarboro  hill.     Considerable 


ST.\MDARD    lO-WHEEU    PASSENGER    ENGINE    OF    TO-DAY.       GRAND    TRUNK    RAILWAY    SYSTEM 


43 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


enthusiasm  was  manifested  when  the  cars 
at  length  came  to  a  standstill  at  the  station, 
and  the  satisfaction  of  the  crowd  was  still 
further  enhanced  by  the  news  handed  out 
from  the  telegraph  office,  that  the  Montreal 
train  had  also  reached  its  destination  at 
Point  St.  Charles  in  safety.  In  the  news- 
paper offices,  editors  were  rejoicing  in 
the  novel  pleasure  of  reading  the  Montreal 
morning  papers  of  the  same  date. 

Celebrations  in  honour  of  the  opening  of 
the  various  sections  of  the  road  had  been 
held  from  time  to  time  during  the  preced- 
ing months.  These  jollifications  usually 
took  the  form  of  a  complimentary  excur- 
sion over  the  completed  line,  a  luncheon 
or  banquet  at  the  terminus,  and  frequently 
a  big  public  ball.  In  November  of  the 
preceding  year  there  had  been  just  such  a 
celebration  in  Montreal  in  honour  of  the 
opening  of  the  line  to  Brockville.  On 
December  20th  of  the  same  year,  Toron- 
tonians  had  celebrated  the  completion  of 
the    Hamilton    and    Toronto    Railway. 

On  August  2gth,  1856,  Oshawa  had 
been  the  scene  of  a  demonstration,  and  on 
October  8th,  Stratford  had  celebrated  the 
entrance  of  the  road  from  Toronto. 

\\Tien  at  length  the  three  hundred  and 
thirty-three  miles  lying  between  Montreal 
and  Toronto  had  been  opened  and  trains 
were  running  regularly  over  the  new  road, 
it  was  deemed  fitting  that  something  a  little 
more  elaborate  should  be  provided  in 
honour  of  the  event.  In  anticipation  of 
the  completion  of  this  important  link  in 
the  country's  railroad  system,  a  committee 
of  ^lontreal  citizens  had  been  appointed 
to  evolve  a  plan  of  celebration.  At  their 
first  meeting  the  sum  of  ;^3,ooo  had  been 
subscribed,  and  this  was  subsequently 
largely  augmented. 

The  dates  set  for  the  celebration  were 
November  12th  and  13th,  and  thousands 
of  inAntations  were  sent  out,  not  alone  to 
the  leading  citizens  of  Canada,  but  to 
many  prominent  people  in  the  United 
States  as  w^ell.  In  each  case  free  trans- 
portation to  Montreal  over  every  necessary 
railroad  was  included. 

In  the  glowing  words  of  a  scribe  of  that 
day,  "The  celebration  was  of  the  most 
brilliant  and  magnificent  description, 
rivalling,  in  the  opinion  of  all  the  American 
citizens  who  were  present,  the   grandest 


demonstrations  wliich  have  ever  taken 
place  on  this  side  of  the  ocean."  With 
due  regard  to  the  wTiter's  sense  of  propor- 
tion, the  event  was  undoubtedly  one  of 
much  importance.  Fifteen  thousand  visi- 
tors augmented  the  population  of  the  city, 
which  was  lavishly  decorated  with  flags, 
bunting,  arches  and  inscriptions.  The 
Governor-General,  Sir  Edmund  Head, 
and  his  suite,  honoured  the  occasion  with 
their  presence  and  many  distinguished 
gentlemen  accepted  the  proffered  hospital- 
ity of  the  railroad  company. 

The  contingent  from  Toronto  and 
\\'estern  Ontario,  occupying  a  train  of 
fifteen  cars,  arrived  at  Point  St.  Charles 
late  on  the  evening  of  the  nth,  and  were 
driven  into  the  city  beneath  illuminated 
arches  and  between  huge  bonfires.  On 
the  following  morning  a  trades  procession 
formed  up  in  Commissioner  (now  Victoria) 
Square,  and  paraded  the  principal  streets. 
At  the  conclusion  of  the  parade  a  huge 
banquet  was  tendered  to  the  visitors  in  the 
railroad  sheds  at  Point  St.  Charles.  Ac- 
commodation for  five  thousand  guests  was 
provided  and  the  ten  long  tables  groaned 
beneath  the  weight  of  the  fruit,  fowl,  sand- 
wiches, sherry  and  champagne,  which  was 
heaped  upon  them.  Above  the  Chair- 
man's table,  the  Union  Jack  and  Stars  and 
Stripes  were  intertwined,  while  bunting 
and  flags  in  profusion  turned  the  dismal 
shed  into  a  place  of  light  and  beauty. 

The  toast  to  the  Queen  was  responded 
to  by  Sir  Edmund  Head,  who  in  turn  pro- 
posed the  health  of  the  President  of  the 
United  States.  To  this  Senator  Wilson 
replied.  The  toast  to  the  United  States 
guests  was  responded  to  by  ex- Governor 
Kent,  that  to  Canada  by  Judge  Day,  and 
that  to  the  Grand  Trunk  Railway  Com- 
pany by  the  Hon.  John  Ross,  President  of 
the  company.  The  only  incident  to  mar 
the  pleasure  of  the  occasion  was  the  refusal 
of  the  St.  Patrick  Society  to  drink  to  the 
health  of  the  Governor-General. 

In  the  evening  a  most  elaborate  torch- 
light procession  was  organised.  On  the 
following  morning  an  excursion  was  run 
by  boat  to  the  Victoria  Bridge,  which  was 
then  in  the  initial  stages  of  its  construction. 
Mter  the  visitors  had  inspected  the  works 
they  boarded  a  train  of  twenty-one  cars 
and  were  taken   to  see  the  new  wheel- 


43 


44 


THE    CANADIAN   MAG.\ZINE 


house  of  the  Montreal  waterworks  at 
Lachine.  The  afternoon  was  occupied 
with  a  military  review  at  Logan's  farm, 
while  the  celebration  was  brought  to  a 
'close  with  a  mammoth  ball  that  evening 
in  the  Bonsecours  Market  and  a  brilliant 
display  of  fireworks  from  the  island  wharf. 
Thus  ended  the  inauguration  of  the  rail- 
road from  Montreal  to  Toronto. 

The  passing  of  fifty  years  has  wrought 
wondrous  changes  in  the  operation  of  the 
railroad.  Probably  no  more  striking 
object  lesson  of  the  progress  that  has  been 
made  in  Canada  during  this  period  could 
be  afforded  than  by  instituting  a  few  com- 
parisons between  conditions  of  railway- 
travel  and  equipment  then  and  now. 

So  far  as  speed  is  concerned  the  journey 
between  Montreal  and  Toronto  has  been 
cut  in  two.  It  took  the  first  train  fifteen 
hours  to  cover  the  distance  between  the 
two  cities,  while  to-day  the  International 
Limited  completes  the  run  wuthin  seven 
hours  and  a  half.  In  1856  one  passenger 
train  each  way  per  day  was  found  sufiic- 
ient;  to-day  the  demands  of  the  travelling 
public  require  four,  in  addition  to 
numerous  local  trains. 

In  1856  the  Grand  Trunk's  most 
powerful  locomotive  weighed  only  a  few 
pounds  over  twenty-eight  tons.  Its  driv- 
ing wheels  measured  five  feet  in  diameter, 
and,  with  tender  coupled,  its  entire  length 
did  not  exceed  forty-five  feet.  An  aver- 
age engine  of  the  present  day,  on  the 
other  hand,  is  over  three  times  as  heavy; 
its  dri\'ing  wheels  have  a  diameter  of 
six  feet,  and,  with  its  tender,  its  length 
over  all  is  sixty-seven  feet. 

The  cars  were  of  American  construction, 
small  and  light  as  compared  with  the 
rolling-stock  of  the  present  day.  Even 
under  these  circumstances,  the  best 
freight  engine  had  a  capacity  for  hauling 
only  fifteen  loaded  cars.  To-day  trains 
of  forty  and  fifty  cars  are  no  uncommon 
sight. 

The  improved  accommodation  for  pas- 
sengers can  best  be  demonstrated  by  a 
reference  to  the  sleeping  cars.  To-day, 
notwithstanding  the  usual  run  of  com- 
plaints, a  passenger  can  board  his  Pullman 
in  Montreal  at  ten-thirty  in  the  evening, 
retire  in  comparative  comfort  and  seclu- 
sion and  wake  up  next  morning  in  Toronto 


soon  after  seven  o'clock.  WTien  the 
first  sleeping  car  was  put  on  the  run  in 
March,  1857  (after  considerable  opposi- 
tion from  a  number  of  directors,  on  the 
ground  that  it  would  be  Hable  to  be  in- 
fested by  bad  characters),  it  was  practical- 
ly a  box  car,  fitted  up  with  benches  running 
its  entire  length.  The  luckless  traveller 
had  to  go  on  board  in  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon.  There  was  no  seclusion  what- 
ever, the  only  comforts  being  a  rug  and  a 
small  pillow  for  each  passenger,  and  the 
long  night  journey  was  veritably  a  weari- 
ness to  the  flesh. 

Be  it  said,  however,  to  the  credit  of  the 
Grand  Trmik  that  soon  after,  vast  im- 
provements were  made  in  sleeping  ac- 
commodation on  the  line.  A  British 
traveller,  touring  America  in  1859,  was 
so  delighted  with  the  service  that  he 
writes : 

"On  the  Grand  Trunk  Railroad  in  Can- 
ada, the  sleeping  cars  are  the  most  comfort- 
able of  any  we  have  seen;  almost  in  every 
respect  like  the  berths  of  a  first-class  cabin 
in  a  steamer, — all  enclosed  with  the  conven- 
iences and  comforts  of  a  good  bed,  wash- 
stand,  etc., — so  that  travellers  going  between 
Montreal  and  Toronto  during  the  night  can 
go  to  bed  and  rise  in  the  morning  at  their 
destination  much  more  refreshed  than  if  they 
had  sat  up  all  night.  This  luxury  can  be 
enjoyed  by  paying  $1.00  extra." 

Despite  the  fact  that  the  first  trains 
over  the  road  performed  the  joiuney 
without  mishap,  this  was  not  the  usual 
experience  during  the  early  years  of  the 
road's  operation.  The  rails  were  light 
and  many  of  them  were  imperfectly  made. 
The  result  was  that  runs-off  were  fre- 
quently occurring,  and  a  traveller's  chances 
of  reaching  his  destination  without  serious 
delay  were  very  slim. 

Terminal  facihties  in  1856  were  most 
inadequate.  Both  in  Toronto  and  Mon- 
treal, the  stations  were  located  outside 
the  limits.  The  deficiency  was  soon 
remedied  in  Toronto,  for  in  June  of  the 
following  year  the  tracks  w^ere  extended 
from  the  Don  along  the  south  side  of 
Front  Street  to  the  intersection  of  Bay 
Street,  where  a  union  station  was  built, 
but  in  ^Montreal  the  terminus  remained 
at  Point  St.  Charles  for  some  time, 
necessitating  the  estabhshment  of  an 
omnibus  line  to  convey  passengers  to  and 
fro  between  the  city  and  the  depot. 


Illustrations  by 
Emily  Hand 


A  FLIGHT 
i_  ?fLAnELM^D 

BY  1  I 

ULP-jlEDLEyL 9 


CHAPTER  I 

OSH  LAMBERT  lay  on  the 
grass  with  his  hands  clasped 
under  his  head,  winking 
harder  than  he  had  ever 
winked  in  his  life,  when  he 
was  startled  to  see  the  Flamniverous 
Flamingo  looking  down  on  him  and  saying, 
"Well,  I  can  take  you  there  if  you  want 
to  go  so  much." 

' '  How  do  you  know  where  I  want  to  go  ?" 
asked  Josh. 

"Birds  don't  have  long  necks  like  mine 
for  nothing,"  said  the  Flamniverous 
Flamingo,  wriggling  his  head. 

"What  has  your  long  neck  to  do  with 
it?"  asked  Josh  sharply. 

"Well,  it  must  be  neck  or  nothing," 
said  the  Flamingo;  "and  I  have  certain- 
ly more  neck  than  nothing." 

"More  neck  than  anything  you  should 
say,"  corrected  Josh  grandly. 

"Oh,  that  is  grammar!"  said  the  Flam- 
ingo. "I  have  no  time  to  go  in  for  gram- 
mar, besides  it  would  stick  in  my  neck  and 
choke  me."  And  he  wriggled  his  head 
faster  than  ever. 

"I  want  to  go  to  Flameland,"  said 
Josh. 

"Yes,  I  know  that,"  said  the  Flamingo. 

"I  don't  see  how  I  am  to  get  there," 
said  Josh,  "as  I  cannot  fly." 

"But  I  can,"  said  the  Flamingo. 
"  Jump  on  my  back  and  hold  on  by  your 
eyelids." 

"All  right,"  said  Josh.  "It  will  be  a 
spree." 

The  Flamingo  bent  his  long  legs  and 

45 


Josh  climbed  on  to  his  back.  He  was  a 
thin  boy  of  thirteen,  with  no  fear  of  any- 
thing or  anybody.  He  laughed  with  joy 
as  the  great  bird  rose  high  in  the  air,  but 
instead  of  holding  on  by  his  eyelids  he 
spread  his  arms  out  and  waved  them  as  if 
he  were  helping  to  fly  too.  Unles.=  you 
have  tried  it  you  cannot  reahse  how 
delightful  it  is  to  fly,  and  next  best  to  flying 
yourself  is  to  ride  on  the  back  of  the 
Flamniverous  Flamingo,  flying  like  the 
wind. 

In  due  time  they  reached  the  summit 
of  Mount  Flameland,  a  celebrated  vol- 
canic mountain,  which  everybody  can  find 
in  the  Atlas  if  they  look  long  enough.  It 
is  the  kingdom  of  the  mighty  Salamandar, 
who  for  power  and  strength  is  a  regular 
scorcher. 

".\re  you  coming  with  me?"  asked 
Josh,  as  he  scrambled  off  the  Flamingo's 
back. 

"Not  I,"  said  the  bird.  "It  is  several 
shades  too  hot  for  my  feathers.  It  makes 
them  too  curly.  Vou  tahU  be  all  right. 
Ta,  ta,  keep  warm!"  .\nd  away  he  flew, 
leaving  Josh  to  explore  the  strange  land 
of  the  Fire-king. 

He  climbed  one  of  the  highest  rocks  to 
look  round,  and  saw  a  curious  being 
evidently  waiting  for  him.  He  was  short 
and  broad,  and  dressed  in  an  uncommon 
kind  of  leather  garment,  mountain  leather 
it  is  called,  which  never  bums;  on  his  head 
was  a  helmet  of  the  same,  and  right  in  the 
middle  of  his  forehead  was  one  large, 
bright,  glittering  crimson  eye. 

"Hullo!"  said  Joi=h.  "I  guess  you  are 


46 


THE    CANADIAN    AL\GAZL\E 


one  of  the  Cyclops  gentlemen.  I  ha\e 
heard  about  your  family  eye." 

"Right  you  are,"  said  the  Cylcop. 
"You  seem  a  bright  boy."  He  winked 
his  crimson  eye  and  chuckled. 

Josh  laughed  and  winked  too.  "  I  know 
a  few  things,"  he  said.  "I  can  see  further 
than  you,  as  I  have  two  eyes." 

"But  my  eye  is  as  large  as  four  of 
yours,"  said  the  Cyclop,  "and  I  am  better 
off  than  you  for  I  never  get  dust  in  my 
eyes." 

"How  is  that  ?"  asked  Josh. 

"Because  I  have  only  one,"  said  the 
Cyclop,  chuckling  again. 

"You  are  a  joker,"  said  Josh.  "But 
now  show  me  your  wonderful  Flameland." 

"This  way  to  the  crater;  follow  me," 
said  the  Cyclop. 

Josh  was  only  too  glad  to  follow  him 
and  began  walking  fast. 

"Stop,  stop  I  you  must  come  to  our 
tailor  first,"  said  the  Cyclop,  "and  have 
a  suitable  suit." 

"I  don't  want  any  more  suits  on;  it  will 
be  too  jolly  hot,"  said  Josh. 

"You  wall  be  too  jolly  hot  if  you  don't," 
said  the  Cyclop.  "You  can  take  oflf 
your  coat  if  you  like." 

At  that  moment  another  man  came  to- 
wards them,  also  one-eyed. 

' '  Are  you  a  tailor  ? ' '  asked  Josh .  ' '  W'ha  t 
is  your  name?" 

"Smith,"  said  the  tailor. 

Josh  laughed  loudly.  "I  have  heard 
that  name  before,"  he  said. 

"I  expect  you  will  hear  it  again,"  said 
the  tailor  hotly.     "  Do  you  want  a  suit  ?  " 

"This  chap  says  I  must  wear  it,"  said 
Josh.  "So  hurrv  up  and  put  it  on  for 
me." 

They  put  him  into  the  most  extraordin- 
ary suit  he  had  ever  seen.  It  was  made  of 
a  stuff  called  asbestos.  It  covered  him 
from  the  soles  of  his  feet  to  the  crown  of 
his  head  and  there  were  two  little  clear 
windows  for  him  to  see  through.  Then 
they  gave  him  a  pair  of  gloves  with  gaunt- 
lets. 

"There,"  said  the  tailor,  "that  is  one 
of  our  best  asbestos  suits.  You  might 
mention  my  name  to  your  friends." 

"Let  me  see,"  said  Josh;  "Smith,  I 
think  vou  said;  I  won't  forget." 


"He  is  a  bright  boy,"  said  the  Cyclop. 

"  Now,  I  am  ready,"  said  Josh.  "  Good 
day,  Mr.  Smith."     The  tailor  bowed. 

"Here  is  the  Crater  Gate,"  said  the 
Cyclop.     "We  will  go  in  the  lift." 

He  blew  a  blast  on  a  pair  of  bellows  and 
immediately  the  lift  appeared. 

"Where  to?"  asked  the  '  Cyclop  who 
worked  it.     "Step  in,  please." 

"I  want  to  see  everything,"  said  Josh. 

"Even  with  two  eyes  you  cannot  do 
that  all  at  once.  We  will  begin  with  the 
kitchen,"  said  the  Cyclop. 

Josh  thought  the  lift  would  never  stop, 
but  at  last  they  reached  the  kitchen.  It 
was  so  immense  that  no  walls  could  be 
seen  anywhere.  Scattered  about  in  every 
direction  were  pots  and  pans  and  kettles, 
and  gridirons  of  all  sorts  and  sizes.  There 
were  countless  stoves,  with  fires  burning 
in  them,  and  at  each  stove  stood  a  one- 
eyed  cook.  As  the  Cyclop  passed  them 
Josh  heard  him  say,  "Hullo,  Polly!"  to 
each  one  who  was  putting  a  kettle  on  the 
fire,  ])ut  if  she  were  taking  it  off  he  said, 
"Hullo,  Sukey!" 

"They  all  look  alike,"  said  Josh. 
"How  do  you  know  which  is  Polly  and 
which  is  Sukey?" 

"Polly  puts  the  kettle  on  and  Sukey 
takes  it  off  again.  It  is  quite  easy  to 
know.     Presentlv  thev  wall  all  have  tea." 

"Ah!"  said  Josh"  "WTio  are  those 
funny  creatures  dressed  in  black  and 
holding  sieves?" 

"Those  are  char-men,"  said  the  Cy- 
clop. 

"You  mean  char-women,"  said  Josh. 

"  No,  I  do  not,"  said  the  Cyclop.  "  You 
are  a  very  bright  boy  but  you  are  some- 
times wrong;  they  are  char-men,  and  they 
have  a  busv  time  in  Flameland  amongst 
the  cinders  at  our  grand  Flare-up." 

"What  is  your  Flare-up?"  asked  Josh. 

"You  won't  want  telling  when  you  see 
it,"  said  the  Cyclop,  mysteriously. 

"\Miy  a  duft'er  might  know  that,"  said 
Josh. 

"Yes,  you  are  pretty  cute  for  a  boy," 
said  the  Cyclops,  but  did  not  explain. 

While  they  talked  they  had  been  walking 
a  long  distance  and  at  last  they  came  to  a 
row  of  grill  stoves  stretching  for  miles.  At 
each  stove  stood  a  Cyclop,  frying  bacon  as 


A    FLIGHT    TO    FLAMELAXD 


47 


fast  as  possible  and  packing  it  inlu  iron 
boxes  which  were  fastened  down  tighll\ 
and  carted  away  on  trucks. 

"What  are  these  chaps  doing?"  said 
Josh. 

"The}-  are  ])Utting  things  to  rights," 
said  the  Cyclop.  "Cooking  everybody's 
bacon.  To-morrow  they  cook  every- 
body's goose.  They  never  get  a  holiday 
from  one  year's  end  to  another." 

"May  I  fry  some  bacon?"  said  Josh. 
"  I  know  how." 

"Fry  away,"  said  the  Cyclop,  winking 
at  one  of  the  cooks.  "But  vou  cannot 
do  it." 

The  cook  stood  aside  and  Josh  took 
hold  of  the  frying-pan  and  jjut  a  large 
piece  of  bacon  onto  it.  In  a  twinkling 
it  fell  over  the  side  into  the  fire. 

"There,  you  see,  out  of  the  frying-pan 
into  the  fire,"  laughed  the  Cyclop.  "Try 
again." 

This  time  Josh  was  more  careful  and 
kept  dabbing  at  the  bacon  with  a  fork  to 
hold  it  on  the  frying-pan,  till  at  last  he  had 
torn  it  into  little  shreds,  which  sputtered 
about  in  fat. 

"Now,  you  have  made  a  hash  of  it," 
said  the  Cyclop.  "I  knew  you  could  not 
cook  bacon — I  told  you  so." 

"It  is  the  fault  of  these  silly  gloves," 
said  Josh.  "  How  can  a  fellow  cook  bacon 
with  gloves  on  ?" 

"Well,  I  told  you  you  could  not  do  it," 
said  the  Cyclop,  "but — 

'If  at  first  you  don't  succeed, 
Fry,  frj',  fry  again!'" 

"I  shall  not,"  said  Josh.  "I  ha\'e  had 
enough  of  it." 

"We  must  get  on  now,"  said  the  Cy- 
clop, "if  you  want  to  be  in  time  for  the 
snap-dragon  party." 

"I  am  jolly  good  at  that  game,"  said 
Josh.  "I  can  beat  anyone  at  it.  I  can 
pick  out  more  plums  in  a  minute  than  most 
people." 

"You  don't  boast  at  all,  do  you?"  said 
the  Cyclop.  "You  don't  think  yourself 
very  superior,  do  you?" 

"No,"  said  Josh. 

"Well,  it  seemed  to  me  you  did  not  re- 
quire anyone  to  blow  a  trumpet  for  you," 
said  the  Cyclop;  "but  perhaps  that  comes 
of  being  such  a  liright  boy." 


"  V(ju  are  chaf!ing,"  .said  Josh.  "  Hurry 
u[>  to  the  snap-dragon  party." 

On  the  way  Josh  scarcely  felt  properly 
dressed  for  a  part}-,  but  when  he  saw  the 
guests  he  forgot  to  think  about  his  best 
clothes. 

"Well  I'm  blowed,"  he  said,  and  stood 
still. 

"That  wall  keep  you  cool,"  said  the 
Cyclop.  "As  a  rule  we  do  not  manage 
to  be  blowed  in  Flameland." 

"It  means  I  am  surprised,"  said  Josh. 
"I  never  saw  such  a  funny  party.  Who 
are  they?" 

"The  party  is  given  by  Lord  and  Lady 
Tom-Noddy.     Shall  I  introduce  you?" 

But  Josh  was  much  too  important  to 
wait  for  an  introduction.  He  pushed  past 
the  Cyclop  and  marched  forward. 

"I  am  come  to  your  snap-dragon 
party,"  he  said. 

Lord  and  Lad\-  Tom-Noddy  did  not 
reply,  but  glared  at  him  with  steely  eyes. 

"Can  anybod}  tell  me" — Josh  began. 

All  the  company  looked  at  him  in 
amazement.  He  turned  to  ask  a  question 
of  the  Cyclop,  but  he  had  disappeared. 
Conceited  as  Josh  was,  he  felt  rather  un- 
comfortable, as  he  suddenly  understood 
what  a  terrible  mistake  he  had  made,  for 
not  one  of  the  party  had  a  body!  Some 
had  very  small  heads  and  two  long  legs, 
and  others  small  heads  and  only  one  leg. 

"Good  gracious!  they  look  like  pokers 
and  tongs,"  said  Josh. 

All  at  once  a  tremendous  din  began. 
Such  a  chattering  and  banging.  Josh  felt 
deafened.  Then  he  saw  that  Lord  and 
Lady  Tom-Noddy  and  the  hundreds  of 
friends  they  had  invited  were  aU  mo\-ing 
at  once,  and  as  they  moved  beside  each 
other  they  jangled  and  hit  one  another, 
but  quite  in  a  friendly  way,  it  appeared. 
Josh  followed  the  crowd  for  some  distance, 
till  everyone  stood  still;  and  as  he  felt 
rather  tired  he  thought  he  could  sit  down, 
and  plumped  onto  the  ground  with  a 
bang.  Immediately  every  steely  eye  was 
turned  on  him  in  surprise.  Then  it 
struck  him  that  in  all  that  huge  crowd  he 
was  the  only  one  who  could  sit  down. 
All  the  others  leaned  against  railings  or 
lav  down  straight  with  their  heads  on  iron 
rests.     So   for   a  time  he    walked  about. 


48 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


"  Birds  don't  have  long  necks  like  mine 
for  nothing,"  said  the  Flamingo 

plumping  down  at  intervals,  to  show  how 
grand  and  clever  he  was,  but  he  got  tired 
of  that  game  and  wished  the  snap-dragon 
could  be  brought  in. 

It  took  a  great  deal  to  surprise  him,  but 
he  had  not  been  prepared  for  the  sight  of 
the  awful  creature  which  at  last  appeared. 
Flying  above  the  heads  of  the  crowd,  with 
widespread  wings,  came  the  monster. 
Its  eyes  were  burning  and  its  mouth  wide 
open,  showing  cruel  teeth  and  fangs, 
while  flames  poured  from  its  throat.  It 
hovered  overhead  for  a  while,  then  the 
crowd  parted  in  a  wide  circle,  making 
space^for  the  dragon  to  settle  down  in  the 


midst  of  them.  Then 
Josh  saw  on  its 
spread  wings  a  large 
flat  dish  full  of  some- 
thing burning.  'He 
was  glad  the  Cyclop 
had  disappeared,  for 
in  spite  of  his  boast- 
ing he  could  not  join 
in  the  game  which 
began.  It  was  per- 
fectly marvellous  to 
see  how  the  one- 
legged  guests  hopped 
onto  the  burning  dish 
and  kicked  oft"  flam- 
ing lumps,  at  which 
the  two-legged  guests 
rushed,  to  catch  them 
between  their  feet 
and  throw  them  to  a 
friend.  The  jangling 
and  clattering  in- 
creased till  they  were 
maddening,  and  Josh 
had  to  keep  dodg- 
ing away  from  the 
flying,  burning 
lumps, which  whizzed 
and  spluttered  faster 
and  faster,  till  he 
could  stand  the  heat 
and  noise  no  longer; 
and  even  he,  brave 
as  he  was,  looked 
round  for  a  way  of 
escape  from  the  fear- 
ful wild  game  they 
called  snap-dragon. 
He  tried  not  to 
appear  too  relieved  when  he  saw  his 
friend  the  Cyclop  signalling  to  him  about 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  away.  He  was  wav- 
ing a  flaming  torch  and  Josh  ran  quickly 
towards  him,  wondering  what  was"  to 
happen  next.  When  he  reached  him  he 
saw  beside  him  an  immense  cannon. 

''Make  haste,  I  have  engaged  an  in- 
side place  for  you,"  said  the  Cyclop. 
"Jump  in." 

''What  do  you  mean?''  asked  Josh. 
"What  do  you  take  me  for?" 

■'There  is  no  charge  outside,"  replied 
the  Cyclop.  "  They  make  the  charge  in- 
side.    Get  in  quickly." 


A   FLIGHT   TO    FLAMELAND 


49 


Josh  walked  to  the  mouth  of  the  can- 
non, but  it  was  high  above  him,  he  could 
not  reach  it. 

"What  a  bore!"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  large  size,"  said  the  Cyclop 
gravely,  "one  of  our  largest  bores." 

"Joking  again,"  said  Josh.  "How  do 
I  get  inside?" 

"Here  come  the  steps,"  said  the  Cyclop, 
and  as  he  spoke  a  waggon  came  along 
drawn  by  an  iron  ram  and  on  the  waggon 
were  the  steps.  Josh  soon  climbed  into 
the  cannon's  mouth  and  turned  to  look 
for  the  Cyclop,  when  suddenly  he  felt 
himself  dragged  forward  and  then  pushed 
along  far  into  the  tube. 

tr 

CHAPTER  II 

"  VTOU  are  in  my  charge,"  said  a  voice 

-^    close  to  his  ear. 

"Am  I?"  said  Josh.  "Well,  just  get 
me  out  of  this  as  quick  as  you  like  and 
leave  off  holding  my  arm,  I  object  to  it." 
He  shook  himself  roughly. 

"I  will  see  you  shot  first,"  said  the 
voice  politely. 

Josh  had  become  accustomed  to  the 
dim  Hght  and  looked  at  the  httle  object 
who  was  holding  him.  Its  eyes  were 
heavy  and  dull  and  its  hand  lay  as  heavy 
as  lead  on  Josh's  arm. 

"You  will  see  me  shot  first,"  repeated 
Josh  indignantly,  "will  you  ?     I  hke  that." 

"Yes,  it  won't  hurt  vou;  I  hope  vou  will 
Hke  it." 

"You  are  a  queer  chap,"  said  Josh. 
"What  is  your  name?" 

"Cartridge.  It  is  a  double-barrelled 
name — Blank-Cartridge.  Now,  if  you 
will  allow  me,  I  will  see  you  shot  first." 

"You  do  say  cheeky  things  politely," 
said  Josh.  "But  get  me  out  of  this;  fire 
away." 

"  Do  not  be  afraid,  you  are  our  only 
passenger  to-day  and  you  will  travel 
quickly." 

"Where  am  I  going?"  asked  Josh. 

"To  the  Smiths,"  w^as  the  answer. 

Josh  laughed.  "The  same  old  Smiths, 
I  suppose?" 

Without  a  smile  Mr.  Blank-Cartridge 
replied:  "  I  refer  to  the  Black-Smiths  who 
live  in  Vulcan  Valley.  Now,  if  you  will 
shut  your  eyes  we  will  discharge  you." 


"Ohl  that  reminds  me,"  said  Josh, 
"tell  me  what  have  I  to  pay — " 

'"  Allentiont^^ 

There  was  a  terrific  bang,  and  Josh  felt 
himself  hurled  swiftly  through  space.  He 
had  thought  the  ride  on  the  Flamingo  fast 
enough,  but  this  beat  it  altogether.  It 
quite  took  his  breath  away  and  he  became 
so  excited  he  did  not  care  what  happened 
ne.xt.  Before  he  could  say  "Jack  Rob- 
inson," he  was  dashed  against  something 
soft  and  springy,  which  stopped  him  sud- 
denly. 

"You  buffers!  What  are  you  doing?" 
he  exclaimed. 

"So  you  recognise  us,"  said  the  first  of 
a  band  which  came  to  meet  him  with 
round,  pleasant  faces.  "  Our  family  name 
is  Buffer." 

Of  course  Josh  did  not  explain  that 
when  he  had  called  them  buffers  he  meant 
to  be  rude,  so  he  nodded  to  them  and 
smiled. 

"We  always  receive  visitors  to  the 
Vulcan  Valley,  but  we  cannot  ask  you  to 
stay  with  us  as  we  are  very  busy,  on  and 
off  again." 

"Are  you?"  said  Josh.  "You  look 
rather  knocked  about,  certainly." 

"We  have  a  great  deal  to  put  up  with," 
said  the  Buffer;  "but  it  is  nothing  when 
you  are  used  to  it." 

"Can  you  tell  me  the  nearest  way  to 
Mr.  Smith's?"  asked  Josh. 

"Of  course  you  mean  Mr.  Black- 
Smith's?"  said  the  Buffer.  "He  owns 
the  Valley  and  all  the  forges." 

"Is  he  cousin  to  the  Village  Black- 
Smiths,  and  does  he  make  horse-shoes?" 
asked  Josh. 

"I  never  heard  of  them,"  said  the 
Buffer.     "His  business  is  in  tempers." 

"Tempers?  What  humbug!"  said 
Josh. 

"Yes,  tempers.  He  supplies  tempers  of 
all  sorts  and  sizes.  Will  you  travel  by  the 
Rocket  Rail?     There  is  the  station." 

Josh  ran  in  the  direction  sho\\Ti  him, 
but  before  he  was  half  way  two  strong 
men  came  to  meet  him  and  lifted  him 
quickly. 

"Just  in  time,"  they  said,  as  they  ran 
with  him  to  the  station.  There  they 
placed  him  on  a  large,  flat  iron  plate,  tell- 


50 


THE    CANADIAN    JVIAGAZINE 


ing  him  to  keep  calm  and  he  would  be  all 
right. 

Josh  had  never  felt  so  happy  in  his  life. 
He  hated  to  be  dull,  and  all  this  flying 
about  from  place  to  place  was  lovely.  So 
when  the  men  pressed  a  spring  and  he  was 
again  shot  away  into  space,  he  shouted 
with  delight.  He  only  thought  the  ride 
far  too  short,  but  at  last  he  had  reached 
the  Temper  Forges. 

It  was  a  wonderful  scene  which  met  his 
view.  There  was  one  forge  in  which  was 
a  fire  as  high  as  a  mountain.  Round  this 
forge  were  hundreds  of  smaller  fires  and 
forges,  the  further  away  they  were  from 
the  big  fire  the  smaller  they  became.  The 
clang  and  the  clash  of  the  anvils  cannot 
be  described.  Josh  found  himself  stand- 
ing close  to  one  of  the  smaller  fires,  and 
as  the  worker  at  it  did  not  seem  busy  he 
spoke  to  him. 

"Can  you  tell  me  where  Mr.  Smith 
lives?"  he  asked. 

"I  am  Mr.  Smith,"  was  the  answer. 
"Mr.  Black-Smith  is  my  name." 

"Are  you  the  Mr.  Black-Smith  who 
owns  this  valley?"  asked  Josh. 

"All  the  same  family,"  said  Smith. 
"Would  you  like  to  look  round?  My 
tempers  are  cooling  off  just  now." 

If  there  was  one  thing  Josh  wanted  to 
do  more  than  another  it  was  to  try  his 
hand  at  a  forge,  so  he  said  pleasantly: 

"If  you  like  I  will  stay  and  watch 
your  tempers  while  you  take  a  walk." 

" Thank  you,"  said  Smith.  "But  don't 
you  meddle  with  them.  They  are  cool- 
ing nicely,  but  the  least  thing  is  apt  to 
put  them  out  of  shape." 

"All  right,"  said  Josh,  anxious  to  be 
left  alone.     "I  promise." 

Once  more  telling  him  not  to  touch 
anything.  Smith  went  off. 

As  soon  as  he  was  out  of  sight  Josh 
thought  he  had  kept  his  promise  long 
enough,  so  he  gently  blew  the  bellows 
and  the  fire  began  to  glow.  For  a  little 
while  this  amused  him,  then  he  lifted  a 
hammer  and  struck  a  blow  on  the  anvil. 
The  first  soimded  so  fine  he  tried  another, 
and  then  another. 

"It  would  be  jolly  to  make  one  of 
those  tempers  red-hot,"  he  thought  to 
himself.  "I  can  easily  put  it  back,  and 
Mr.  Smith  will  never  know." 


He  found  a  pair  of  tongs  and  carefully 
took  up  one  of  the  curious  looking  things 
which  were  lying  on  shelves.  It  was  hke 
a  large  watch-spring  coiled  evenly  round 
and  round  a  w-heel. 

"It  looks  harmless  enough,"  thought 
Josh,  as  he  put  it  in  the  flames. 

He  watched  it  for  a  few  minutes,  and 
as  it  remained  just  as  he  first  saw  it,  he 
laid  it  aside  and  took  up  a  coil  of  a  dif- 
ferent shape. 

If  he  could  have  been  frightened  at 
anything,  he  would  have  been  so  then. 
In  one  minute  the  wheel  in  the  coil  was 
red-hot,  and  the  coil  itself  began  to  un- 
wind and  wriggle  and  twist  and  twirl 
till  he  could  scarcely  hold  it.  Instead  of 
being  afraid  Josh  screamed  with  laughter, 
and  the  louder  he  laughed  the  more  the 
hideous  thing  twisted  and  twirled  and 
grew  and  grew  till  it  looked  like  a  huge 
snake.  At  last  it  had  grown  so  enor- 
mously that  he  had  to  drop  it  into  the 
fire. 

"Mr.  Smith  will  be  jolly  smgry,"  he 
said  to  himself.  "But  how  was  a  fel- 
low to  guess  it  would  grow  like  that  ?  I 
must  let  the  fire  down  and  see  what  hap- 
pens. I  hope  Mr.  Smith  will  be  back 
soon;  I  want  to  see  how  he  works  the 
tempers  down." 

When  he  looked  up,  there  was  Smith 
gazing  at  him. 

"Hullo!"  said  Josh.  "Do  you  see 
anything?" 

Smith  shook  his  head  sadly. 
Josh    had    expected    him    to    be    very 
SLTigry,  and  was  prepared  to  say  all  sorts 
of  sharp  things. 

"Young  man,"  he  said;  "do  you 
know  what  you  have  done?" 

"No,"  said  Josh,  pertly.  "It  seems 
to  me  I  have  undone  a  lot." 

"That's  just  it,"  said  Smith.  "You 
have  undone  the  work  of  years.  That 
temper  has  been  first  in  our  forge  and 
then  in  another,  and  it  was  just  ready 
for  use,  nice  and  quiet  and  cooled  do\\Ti, 
and  now  from  rough  handling  it  is  all 
out  of  shape  and  will  have  to  be  worked 
all  over  again." 

"Oh!  that  does  not  matter,"  said  Josh, 
"what  about  this  one?"  He  pointed  1o 
the  even  coil. 

"That,"  said  Smith,  "is  of  no  use.    It 


A    FLIGHT   TO    FLAMELAND 


51 


does  not  suit  any- 
body. Lots  have 
tried  it,  but  they  say 
they  might  as  well 
have  no  temper  at 
all  as  one  with  no 
go  in  it." 

"I  thought  you 
would  give  it  me 
hot  for  meddling," 
said  Josh. 

"Not  I,"  said 
Smith.  "I  always 
keep  a  good  temper 
for  my  own  use. 
Here  is  a  motto  for 
you:  "Never  keep 
your  temper  if  it  is  a 
bad  one." 

Josh  immediately 
wanted  to  argue. 

"If  you  can  keep 
your  temper  it  must 
be  good,"  he   said. 

"  Not  at  all,"  said 
Smith.  "It  is  be- 
cause it  is  not  good 
that  you  cannot 
keep  it.  You  must 
lose  it." 

"Rubbish!"  said 
Josh  angrily. 

Smith  smiled. 

"Would  you  Hke 
to  go  to  our  ware- 
house to  try  on  a 
few?"  he  asked. 

Josh  was  glad  of 
an  e.xcuse  to  get  away  from  such  a  good- 
tempered  man,  so  said  he  would  go  for 
the  fun  of  the  thing. 

"It  is  not  the  first  store  you  come  to," 
said  Smith.  "Everything  is  second-hand 
there.  Tempers  which  have  been  lost. 
We  get  them  back  by  the  ton.  The 
warehouse  is  the  next  building." 

Josh  passed  many  forges  before  he 
reached  it.  The  din  of  the  hammering 
was  tremendous,  and  he  was  feeling  very- 
irritable  from  trying  to  make  the  motto 
come  right. 

"If  a  chap  has  a  good  temper  it  can- 
not be  bad,  if  he  can  keep  his  temper  it 
must  be  good,"  he  repeated  to  himself, 


"Fry,  Fry  Again,"  laughed  the  Cyclop 


and  yet  that  fellow  Smith  says:  "Never 
keep  your  temper  if  it  is  bad." 

"A  chap  always  loses  his  temper  when 
it  is  bad  as  a  matter  of  coxirse."  He 
could  not  get  the  argument  right  any- 
how, and  was  glad  to  reach  the  ware- 
house. Over  the  door  was  written: 
'^Tempers,   Good,   Bad  and  Indifferent." 

"WTio  but  a  silly  would  buy  an\1;hing 
but  a  good  temper?"  thought  Josh  as 
he  went  inside. 

A  polite  assistant  came  forward.  "Are 
you  out  of  temper?"  he  asked,  bowing 
respectfully. 

"No,  I  am  not,"  said  Josh  sharply. 

"WTiat  can  we  do  for  vou?" 


52 


THE    CANADL\N    MAGAZINE 


"Nothing,"  said  Josh,  still  more 
sharply. 

"Thanks,"  said  the  assistant.  "I  see 
exactly  what  is  wrong.     Step  this  way." 

Josh  was  too  astonished  to  reply,  and 
followed  meekly. 

"This  young  gentleman  has  shown  me 
his  temper,"  said  the  assistant  to  an- 
other.    "And  it  is  a  trifle  short  for  him." 

"Nonsense!  Shut  up!"  said  Josh,  quite 
rudely. 

"There,"  said  the  assistant.  "You 
see  how  it  is,  short  and  a  trifle  hot." 

"Bother!  leave  me  alone,  I  tell  you," 
said  Josh;  "and  my  temper  too,  there  is 
nothing  wrong  with  it." 

"Do  you  wish  to  keep  it,  then?"  asked 
the  assistant. 

"Yes,  of  course  I  do,"  said  Josh,  and 
burst  out  laughing. 

"Ah!"  said  the  assistant,  "I  recog- 
nise it  now  as  one  of  our  best  make,  but 
slightly  out  of  order." 

"It  is  the  heat,"  said  Josh,  more  pleas- 
antly. 

"Quite  so,  quite  so.  The  heat  does 
affect  even  our  best  tempers.  You  think, 
after  all,  you  prefer  to  keep  yours.  You 
only  have  to  keep  it  as  cool  as  possible," 
said  the  assistant. 

At  that  moment  Josh  heard  a  most 
extraordinary  crackling  sound. 

"What  is  that  noise?"  he  asked. 

"It  comes  from  our  Wild-fire  factory. 
The  Wild-fire  has  to  be  kept  in  water." 

"What  a  likely  thing!"  said  Josh,  who 
thought  he  was  being  made  fun  of. 

"Come  and  see  it,"  said  the  assistant. 

He  led  the  way  to  huge  tanks  full  of 
water,  and  Josh  would  scarcely  believe 
his  eyes  when  he  saw  great  fires  burning 
brightly  in  the  midst  of  the  water. 

"By  jove!"  he  exclaimed.  "How  do 
you  do  it?" 

"It  is  quite  natural,"  was  the  answer. 

"What  nonsense!"  said  Josh.  "Do 
you  think  I  am  a  fool?  It  is  not  natural 
for  fire  to  burn  under  water,  I  tell  you. 
You  don't  know  what  you  are  talking 
about." 

He  looked  quite  as  angry  as  he  felt, 
especially  as  the  assistant  only  smiled. 

"It  seems  wrong  again,"  he  said.  "I 
wish  vou  would  let  me  see  to  it." 


"What  are  you  talking  about?"  said 
Josh. 

"Your  temper.  I  don't  fancy  you  will 
ever  be  able  to  keep  it.  If  it  gets  out  of 
order  so  quickly  you  are  apt  to  lose  it." 

He  spoke  so  seriously  and  anxiously 
that  Josh  thought  he  was  quizzing  for  a 
moment,  and  then  it  struck  him  as  being 
so  funny  that  he  laughed  loudly,  at 
which  the  man  looked  happy  again  and 
said: 

"Not  much  wrong  with  it  after  all; 
but,  as  I  said  before,  just  a  trifle  too 
short." 

"All  serene,"  said  Josh.  "What  do 
you  use  this  Wild-fire  for?" 

"Nearly  every  temper  we  make  has 
a  dash  of  it.  Of  course  we  make  some 
without  it,  as  it  does  not  suit  everybody, 
but  they  don't  last.  Now,  perhaps  you 
will  hardly  believe  it,  but  quite  little 
babies  enjoy  a  dash  of  Wild-fire;  it  helps 
them  to  scream  when  there  is  nothing 
the  matter." 

"By  jove!  they  do,  too,"  said  Josh, 
thinking  of  the  baby  at  home.  "But 
see  what  I  am  going  to  do  for  a  lark." 

In  an  instant  he  had  plunged  into  one 
of  the  tanks,  and  as  he  could  swim  hke 
a  fish,  they  saw  him  diving  and  rolling 
about  and  being  well  protected  in  his 
asbestos  suit,  he  ran  through  the  fires 
and  into  the  water  again  dehghted  with 
his  new  game. 

"Have  you  seen  a  bright  boy?"  said 
a  voice  suddenly;  "because  I  lost  one 
a  little  while  ago,  and  as  he  has  to  get  on 
to  the  Salamandar's  Palace,  he  must 
hurry  up.  Ah!  there  he  is.  Bravo, 
bravo,  my  bright  boy,  you  are  a  plucky, 
bright  boy!" 

It  was  the  little  Cyclop,  and  he  clapped 
his  hands  as  Josh  went  on  with  his 
strange  bath;  but  when  he  caught  sight 
of  his  one-eyed  friend  he  leaped  out  of 
the  water  and  stood  beside  him  laughing. 

"Never  had  such  fun  in  my  life,"  he 
said.  "I  would  not  have  missed  it  for 
anything.  The  joke  is,  I  am  neither 
wet  nor  burned.  As  fast  as  the  water 
left  off  being  wet  the  fire  left  off  burn- 
ing.    I  am  glad  I  came  here." 

"You  have  plenty  more  to  see,"  said 


THE    LOST   EARL   OF   ELLAN 


53 


the  Cyclop.  "1  am  ordered  to  lake  you  to 
the  Palace  at  once,  or  sooner,  if  possible." 

"All  right,"  said  Josh.  "I  will  come 
Hke  a  shot." 

"So  you  shall,  bright  boy,  just  like 
a  shot." 


Josh  was  beginning  to  have  no  sur- 
prise left,  he  thought;  but  on  his  way  to 
the  Palace,  and  when  he  got  there,  he 
found  he  had  .still  plenty  for  immediate 
use;  it  seemed  to  grow  as  time  went 
on. 


TO    BE    CONCLUDED    NEXT    MONTH 


The  Lost  Earl  of  Elian 

A   Story  of  Australian   Life 

By  MRS.  CAMPBELL  PRAED,  author  oj''My  Australian  Girlhood;' 
''Fugitive  Anne;'  "Nyria;'  etc.,  etc. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

'out  where  the  dead  men  lie" 

rlHE  Galbraiths  were  at  Narra- 
wan.  Rain  had  fallen  plen- 
teously;  the  drought  was 
completely  broken;  creeks 
were  running;  the  lagoon  had 
risen  Hush  to  its  banks.  Ah  Sin's  garden 
was  a  mass  of  young,  succulent  green ;  the 
plain  beyond  the  slip-rails  no  longer  looked 
thirst-stricken;  even  the  mournful  gidyas 
had  brightened.  Immediately  round  the 
head  station  there  seemed  a  curious  blend- 
ing of  autumn  and  spring.  The  leaves  of 
the  vine  from  which  Susan  had  plucked 
grapes  on  that  night  of  Wolfe's  coming, 
only  two  or  three  months  back,  were  now- 
yellow  and  red,  and  a  stephanotis  twining 
one  of  the  posts  shewed  clusters  of  white 
blooms,  blending  a  heady  perfume  with  the 
fragrance  of  orange  blossoms — for  the 
two  mandarin  trees  at  the  end  of  the 
house  were  in  flower  and  green  fruit  to- 
gether. Susan  herself  seemed  to  be  in 
the  curiously  brooding  condition  that  may 
be  observed  in  Nature  before  she  blossoms 
forth  into  fresh  life — a  condition  that  may 
result  in  any  wild,  wonderful  or  delightful 
change.  But  whereas  Nature  is  in  all  her 
phases  sublimely  interesting,  poor  human 
Susan,  tossed  and  worn  by  doubts  as  much 
concerning  her  own  feelings  as  those  of  her 
two  lovers,  and  wath  the  canker  of  her 
brother's  fate  and  her  father's  remorse 
preying  upon  her,  was  sadly  lacking  in 
that  dignity  which  Nature  shows  even  in 


her  most  crabbed  humour.  Susan's  mood 
had  indeed  been  very  crabbed  and  freakish 
since  the  return  from  Acobarra.  At 
times  she  would  sit  silent  and  brooding 
over  book  or  needlework  or  else  would 
show  an  irritable  temper  not  common 
with  her.  When  rallied  by  Patsy  she 
would  attribute  her  own  melancholy  to  the 
depressing  influence  of  Mr.  Galbraith's 
wordless  regret  after  his  missing  son. 

For,  notwithstanding  the  reward  which 
Mr.  Kirby  the  lawyer  was  instructed  to 
offer  for  information  of  Harry  Galbraith, 
nothing  more  had  been  heard  at  Narrawan 
of  him  or  of  Flash  Sam,  about  whom  Mr. 
Kirby  had  also  been  asked  to  make 
enquiries. 

Good  Patsy  was  puzzled  by  Susan's 
fitfulness,  and  could  only  account  for  it  on 
the  supposition  that  her  love  affair  was 
not  going  smoothly.  But  Patsy  could  not 
very  well  see  how  that  was  possible,  for 
she  had  arrived  at  the  conclusion,  during 
those  last  few  hours  before  they  left 
Thursday  Island,  when  the  First  Lieu- 
tenant of  the  Clytie  had  given  them  tea  on 
board  the  man-of-w^ar  and  had  returned 
to  spend  the  evening  wnth  them  at  the 
hotel,  that  Susan  meant  to  accept  Brian 
Cordeaux.  Certainly  Brian  himself  had 
left  no  room  for  doubt  as  to  his  intentions. 
Directly  he  could  get  further  leave,  he 
declared  that  they  would  see  him  at 
Narrawan,  but  he  thought  it  best,  he  said, 
not  to  press  the  point  at  the  moment. 

As  for  Oora,  she  held  herself  more  or 
less  aloof  from  the  familv  interests.     She 


54 


THE   CANADIAN   IVIAGAZINE 


was  taciturn  and  self-absorbed  in  her 
manner,  while,  though  nobody  expected 
Oora  to  be  hke  other  people  in  her  doings, 
she  was  odd  and  more  erratic  even  than 
was  her  wont.  Strength  had  come  back 
to  her,  and  all  her  former  power  of  endur- 
ance. Most  of  the  time  she  lived  out  of 
doors  and  would  go  long  rides  on  any 
pretext  that  presented  itself — carrying 
rations  to  a  distant  shepherd  or  fencer, 
tracking  lost  sheep  or  strayed  horses,  or 
making  the  excuse  of  asking  for  telegrams, 
in  order  to  ride  across  country  to  Wooral- 
ba.  As  her  father  did  not  consider  a 
revolver  sufficient  protection  for  her,  she 
was  under  honour  never  to  go  on  a  long 
excursion  without  taking  Pintpot  or  one 
of  the  tame  black  boys  from  the  camp. 
As  Pintpot  was  the  most  venturesome  of 
these,  he  was  the  one  who  usually  accom- 
panied her. 

The  great,  grim  wild  had  for  Oora  some- 
thing of  the  fierce  joy  of  the  sea,  some- 
thing of  the  compeUing  fascination  that 
had  drawn  her  to  the  Stranger  Man. 
The  sight  of  those  endless  gum  trees, 
gaunt,  hag-like,  often  lightning-blasted — 
was  to  her  as  the  sight  of  a  great  company 
of  friends.  The  voiceless  mid-day  hush 
of  the  Bush  had  a  dreamy  influence  upon 
her,  soothing  the  heart  pain  by  which  she 
was  continually  tortured.  The  mysteri- 
ous stirrings  and  whisperings  in  the  forest 
towards  evening  spoke  to  her  of  Destiny 
and  of  Fulfilment.  As  she  rode  along 
through  dreary  stretches  of  gidya  and  iron- 
bark,  and  over  plains  that  had  been  arid 
desert  a  little  while  back,  she  would  see 
here  and  there  decaying  carcasses  or 
bleached  bones  of  beasts  that  had  been 
destroyed  by  drought  or  poison-bush, 
knowing  perfectly  well  that  they  might 
have  easily  been  the  remains  of  some 
hapless  wanderer  killed  by  a  black's  spear, 
or  dead  of  thirst.  Yet  Oora  was  never 
afraid  of  blacks  herself;  she  had  been 
too  much  with  them  and  knew  too  well 
their  language,  customs  and  superstitions. 
But  the  thought  of  the  wanton  destruction 
of  life,  of  the  inexorable  cruelty  of  the 
bush,  would  bring  her  an  odd  sense  of 
consolation,  for  it  made  her  reahse  better 
what  the  Stranger  had  meant  when  he 
spoke  of  the  callous  indifference  bred  from 
the  brutalities  of  out-back  diggings.     The 


life  of  a  man  or  of  a  beast,  one  more  or  less, 
what  did  it  matter  in  the  whole?  Su- 
premely little  in  comparison  with  the  wel- 
fare of  the  living;  and  weird  imagin- 
ings would  sweep  into  the  girl's  mind,  and 
she  would  think  she  heard  elemental 
voices  and  would  seem  to  see  visions  of 
ghosts  haunting  this  same  great,  grim 
wild.  Though  she  sometimes  scoffed  at 
her  sister's  poetic  interpretations  of 
Australian  Nature,  Oora  had  her  own 
taste  in  poetry,  an  uncommonly  ghoulish 
taste,  and  sometimes  she  would  repeat 
aloud  scraps  of  wild  verse  like  "Boake's" 
lines: 

"Otit  in  the  wastes  of  the  Nevcr-Never, 
That's  where  the  dead  men  lie! 
That's  where  the  heat-waves  dance  for  ever, 
That's  where  the  dead  men  lie! 
That's  where  the  earth's  loved  sons  are  keeping 
Endless  tryst:  not  the  west  wind  sweeping 
Feverish  pinions  can  wake  their  sleeping — 
Out  where  the  dead  men  lie! 

"Only  the^hand  of  night  can  free  them 
That's  where  the  dead  men  fly 
Only  the  frightened  cattle  see  them — 
See  the  dead  men  go  by! 
Cloven  hoofs  beating  out  one  measure, 
Bidding  the  stockman  know  no  leisure: 
Ttiat's  where  the  dead  men  take  their  pleasure; 
That's  where  the  dead  men  lie!" 

The  weather  was  warm  still,  scorching 
at  noon,  but  getting  fresher  in  the  early 
morning  and  towards  evening  with  a  fore- 
taste of  winter,  which  made  reptiles 
and  insects  sluggish  and  more  than 
ordinarily  pertinacious  in  their  onslaughts 
on  beasts  and  humans.  It  was  cooler 
than  usual  one  afternoon,  yet  even  soon 
after  luncheon  the  flies  were  bothering 
Patsy  considerably  as  she  sat  in  a  rocking 
chair  in  the  verandah,  darning  stockings, 
with  the  baby  on  her  knee.  Notwith- 
standing this  small  grievance,  however, 
and  the  larger  one  of  some  secret  worry 
concerning  her  husband.  Patsy's  kindly 
face  and  bountiful  form  seemed  to  radiate 
satisfaction.  She  was  so  delighted  to  get 
back  among  her  own  beasts,  her  own 
blacks,  and  beyond  all,  her  own  children, 
once  more.  The  unusual  swarms  of  flies 
which  Patsy  laid  to  the  Milligan's  care- 
lessness in  not  having  kept  the  meat  store 
verandah  in  a  properly  scoured  condition, 
and  in  having  allowed  the  dogs  to  carry 
their  bones  to  the  front  garden,  as  well  as 


THE   LOST   EARL   OF   ELLAX 


55 


sundry  other  reprehensible  practices  which 
she  had  discovered  by  their  results,  were 
minor  considerations  to  Mrs.  Galbraith. 
Half-caste  Charlotte  had  resumed  her 
regular  duties  as  nurse,  and  was  resplend- 
ent in  a  new  skirt  and  jacket  of  turkey- 
red  twill.  She  now  hovered  at  the  edge 
of  the  verandah,  superintending  the  chil- 
dren's play.  Jacky  was  making  hideous 
music  with  the  jew's-harp,  and  Polly  had 
emptied  from  Charlotte's  dilly-bag  a 
carefully  selected  heap  of  small  round 
pebbles,  with  which  she  was  playing  a 
game  of  knuckle  bones,  having  discarded 
the  genuine  article  because  the  bones  were 
too  big  to  go  between  her  fingers.  She 
had  made  "Cubby  House"  with  her  little 
brown  paw  arched  and  the  fingers  wide 
apart,  but  even  still,  one  or  two  refractory 
pigs,  in  the  shape  of  bigger  sized  pebbles, 
would  nol  go  in. 

"One  feller;  two  feller,"  Polly  was 
counting  in  her  black's  lingo.  "Piggy  go 
to  bed!  Three  feller! — Ba'al  budgery 
(no  good)  that  one — Four  feller!  My 
word,  three  feller  stop  outside — Damn 
Mr.  Piggy  (very  sweetly  and  deliber- 
ately). Mine  cobbon  coola  (very  angry) 
belonging  to  you!" 

The  Picaninny  looked  up  at  her 
mother  out  of  her  black  eyes,  having  a 
hazy  remembrance  that  such  expressions 
were  prohibited.  But  Patsy  was  busy 
slapping  her  hands  at  a  vicious  red  and 
yellow  Father  Mason  fly,  whose  spouse 
was  hovering  in  front  of  their  clay  nest, 
just  above  Patsy's  head. 

Just  then  the  dogs  started  barking,  and 
to  avoid  Patsy's  gaze  Susan  got  up  and 
went  to  the  end  of  the  verandah  to  see 
who  was  coming  towards  the  slip-rails. 

"I  e.xpect  it's  Oora  back  from  her  ride," 
said  Patsy. 

"No,  it's  not  Oora,"  Susan  answered, 
"It's  a  man." 

"Oora  ought  to  be  back,"  Patsy  went 
on.  "She  was  taking  some  blue-stone 
and  rock-salt  and  things  your  father 
wanted  to  go  to  the  Iron  Bark  Camp. 
My  word,  she  has  been  a  long  time! 
There's  nobody  to  look  after  her,  Su,  if 
Pintpot  makes  oflf  to  the  blacks'  camp  and 
she's  thrown  and  breaks  her  leg!" 

"Oora  isn't  such  a  fool  as  I  am," 
answered  Susan  with  curious  self-scorn. 


"Well,  it  would  take  more  than  a  pig- 
jump  to  throw  Oora,"  placidly  observed 
Patsy.     "Who  is  it  at  the  slip-rails,  Su  ?  " 

"The  mail  has  come,"  answered  Susan. 

"White's  a  whole  day  late  and  your 
father's  been  worr)'ing  so  that  he  wouldn't 
go  out  himself  to  the  Ten  Mile.  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  it  was  the  creeks  com- 
ing down  that  had  kept  White.  Now, 
Jacky,  be  done  with  that  beastly  jew's- 
harp  like  a  good  boy  and  find  Dada  and 
tell  him  the  mail  has  come  at  last." 

But  Mr.  Galbraith,  hanging  about  the 
head  station  on  pretext  of  .superintending 
some  repairs  at  the  ^^'oolshed,  was  return- 
ing across  the  home  paddock  and,  spying 
the  postman,  galloped  up  and  met  him 
within  the  sUp-rails.  Susan  heard  her 
father  accost  him: 

"HeUo!  Good-day,  WTiite.  WTiat 
makes  you  twenty-four  hours  over  time? 
River  up,  eh?  It's  been  coming  down  a 
bit  here,  though  we've  had  no  rain  to  speak 
of  this  week." 

"G'day,  Boss.  There's  been  plenty  of 
rain  up  at  the  heads  of  Narra,  my  word. 
You  know  what  these  rivers  are  out  west, 
coming  down  a  banker  from  a  thunder- 
storm you  dunno  where,  for  the  country 
may  be  as  dry  as  a  bone  lower  down.  I 
hed  to  go  round  by  Gidyee  Crossing,  and 
I'd  close  up  to  gev  up  that,  if  it  hadn't 
been  that  one  of  the  Gidgee  Downs  stock- 
men come  along  and  swum  my  horse  for 
me  and  helped  me  over  a  log.  I  was 
•pretty  sure  you'd  be  wanting  your  mail, 
sir,  and  so  I  made  a  try.  But  you  see, 
boss.  Government  don't  arsk  of  me  to  go 
over  my  saddle  flaps,  eh?"  and  the  man, 
who  was  whitey-browTi,  all  legs  and  arms, 
his  knees  bowed  inward  from  riding — a 
colonial  bom — gave  a  laugh  that  seemed 
a  faint  echo  of  the  laughing  jackass' 
chuckle. 

".\11  right,  WTiite.  Come  ben  to  the 
house  and  have  a  glass  of  grog." 

"Thankee,  Mr.  Galbraith.  Had  to 
make  a  s\rim  at  the  Bean-tree  Crossing,  and 
got  soaked  to  the  skin.  Mail's  a  bit 
damp,  sir,  but  you  won't  mind  that." 

Susan  watched  ^\^lite  dismount  and 
unstrap  from  his  saddle  the  pile  of  browm 
leather  bags,  each  tied  up  and  sealed  with 
the  big  official  splotch  of  'red  wax  that 
caught    the    sun.     ^Vhite    .continued    to 


56 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


talk,  as  he  remounted  and  rode  up  to  the 
headstation,  quickening  his  horse's  pace 
to  that  of  the  one  ridden  by  Mr.  Galbraith. 

"My  word!"  said  the  mail  man;  "looks 
as  if  the  Government  didn't  expect  police 
sergeants  nor  troopers  to  go  in  over  their 
flaps  neither.  There  was  a  party  of  them 
round  by  Gidgee  just  afore  I  come,  the 
chap  told  me  that  helped  me  over  the  log. 
They  was  after  some  cove  they  wanted  to 
collar — I  bet  he'd  have  swum  the  river 
before  them  and  got  away  most  like — 
though  he  might  have  been  drowned  doing 
it.  You  know  when  the  Narra's  up  she 
runs  pretty  strong  and  there's  a  nasty 
current  in  the  middle.  Now,  d'ye  think 
they'd  risk  it  ?  No  fear — afraid  of  rusting 
their  carbines  and  spoiling  their  uniforms, 
— so  they  made  a  round  of  fifteen  miles  to 
get  a  better  crossing.  A  set  of  white- 
livered  funks,  I  call  the  police  of  this 
district.  It's  a  wonder,  sir,  that  the 
squatters  stand  it.  That's  why  there's 
never  a  cattle  or  horse  duffer  caught  in 
these  parts  nor  any  dashed  spieler  that 
nabs  a  shearer's  cheque  like  that  Flash 
rouseabout  there  was  such  a  talk  about 
last  shearing — vou  reck'let,  Mr.  Gal- 
braith?" 

But  Susan  saw  that  her  father  was  not 
paying  much  attention  to  the  mail  man's 
discourse.  He  had  begun  at  once  to  cut 
the  string  of  the  mail  bag  with  the  knife 
he  drew  from  his  belt.  Then  before  the 
two  turned  the  comer  of  the  Chinaman's 
quarters  and  were  lost  for  the  moment  to 
Susan's  view,  he  sorted  the  letters  from 
the  newspapers,  examining  the  superscrip- 
tion of  each  in  eager  search  for  the  one  he 
wanted,  and  which  when  found,  he  tore 
open  and  started  hurriedly  reading. 

Patsy  went  into  the  dining-room  to  get 
the  decanter  of  rum  for  the  mail  man's 
customary  nip,  and  presently  the  usual 
compliments  passed. 

"Thank  ve.  Here's  to  you,  Boss!" 
And  from  Mr.  Galbraith: 

"A  safe  trip  to  vou.  White,"  and  the 
mail  man  departed  for  further  refresh- 
ment to  the  kitchen  before  resuming  his 
journey. 

Susan,  stepping  out  to  the  back  verandah 
to  get  her  own  letters,  met  her  father  and 
step-mother  coming  through  the  dining- 
room  with  the  mail  in  their  hands.     Mr. 


Galbraith  looked  agitated  and  excited. 
He  held  an  open  letter,  which  showed  at 
the  corner  of  the  sheet  the  address  of  Mr. 
Kirby's,  the  solicitor's,  office. 

"I'm  in  two  minds,  Pat,  to  get  on  my 
horse  and  ride  dowTi  at  once  to  see  what 
they're  up  to,"  Mr.  Galbraith  was  saying. 

"  No,  no,  Duncan,"  she  answered.  "It's 
safer  you'll  be  to  wait  a  day  or  two.  Kirby 
says  he'll  let  you  know  directly  anything 
comes  of  his  telegram  that's  anyway 
definite.  You  see,  he  told  us  that  he's 
traced  Harry  to  that  new  rush  along  the 
Yellaroi  and  Flash  Sam,  too,  but  it  stands 
to  reason  you  can't  rake  up  news  in  that 
wild  country  in  a  day." 

"The  Yellaroi  Rush!"  repeated  Mr. 
Galbraith  thoughtfully.  "Do  you  mind 
how  Wolfe  said  he'd  been  in  that  ?  And  it 
looks  as  if  Harry  must  have  taken  a  false 
name  or  he'd  have  heard  of  him.  If  only 
I  could  get  hold  of  Wolfe  now,  he  might 
tell  me  something  about  the  lad." 

Again  the  little  stab  which  always  came 
with  the  mention  of  Wolfe,  went  through 
Susan's  heart. 

"But  what  does  Kirby  mean  by  his 
hints  and  all  the  while  telling  me  nothing ! " 
exclaimed  Mr.  Galbraith  angrily.  "  Why 
not  let  me  know  straight  what  he's  after 
— for  weel  or  for  ill?" 

"But  if  he's  found  out  nothing  certain, 
where's  the  sense  of  putting  you  off  your 
head,  Duncan,  old  man,  expecting  good 
news  that  mightn't  come  off  or  else  some- 
thing bad  that  likely  as  not  isn't  true 
either  ?  What  I'm  thinking  is  that  Kirby 
might  have  had  the  gumption  to  keep 
quiet  until  he'd  made  sure  he  could  set 
our  minds  at  rest." 

Susan  came  swiftly  to  her  father's  side 
and  put  her  hand  on  his. 

"Dad,  you've  got  news  of  Harry.  Tell 
me  what  Mr.  Kirby  says."  She  spoke 
tremulously,  roused  out  of  her  self-ab- 
sorption by  that  spasm  of  mingled  dread, 
repulsion  and  pained  affection  which  had 
been  a  frequent  sensation  in  the  troublous 
days  of  Harris's  youth  at  Bundah.  and 
which  recurred  invariably  at  any  sugges- 
tion that  tidings  had  come  of  her  twin 
brother. 

Old  Duncan  Galbraith  looked  at  his 
daughter  yearningly. 

"Mv  bonnie  lassie!"   he  began.     His 


THE    LOST   EARL   OF    ELLAN 


57 


face  worked,  the  eyelids  twitching  and 
moisture  showing  on  the  shaggy  red-grey 
eyelashes.  Susan  had  never  seen  her 
father  so  moved  since  the  day  when  he  had 
i;oIcmnly  disowned  Harry.  Now  it  was 
as  if  tiie  natural  affection  of  a  parent,  kept 
rigorously  pent  since  then,  were  forcing 
a  way  of  itself.  He  crushed  the  girl's  soft 
hand  in  his  great  brown  one.  "I've 
sinned  against  my  own  tiesh  and  blood, 
girl,  and  the  Lord  has  punished  me." 

"Dad,  you  mustn't  say  that.  It  was 
Harry  who  sinned  against  you  and  against 
the  good  blood  that  ran  in  him,"  she  said, 
frightened  and  stirred  to  the  depths  of  her 
heart.  "Tell  me  what  you  have  heard 
from  Mr.  Kirby,  father;  I  want  to  know. 
You're  not  the  only  one  who  has  minded. 
I've  minded  dreadfully,  too." 

"  Yes— yes,  Su.    He's  your  twin  brother, 
and    blood    counts.      Ah,    well!  Kirby's 
news  doesn't  amount  to  so  much  after  all; 
but  he  says  he's  got  a   straight  clue   to 
what's  become  of  Harry.     You  heard  Pat 
telling  that  the  lad  had  been  traced  to  that 
Yellaroi  Rush,  which  it  seems  duffered  out 
to  nothing  and  the  place  is  all  deserted  now. 
Kirby  had  been  telegraphing  up  Cook- 
town  and  the  Palmer  way — he  seems  to 
take  it  for  certain  that  Harry's  there — 
and  he  says  that  he  hopes  in  about  a 
.  week's  time  at  most,  he'll  have  something 
definite  to  tell  us.     That  would  mean  a 
week  from  the  day  he  wrote,  and  White's 
a  good  twenty-four  hours  late  with  the 
mail.     I'm  sure  Kirby  wouldn't  have  said 
that  much  unless  he'd  been  fairly  certain 
of  things  being  right.    Only,  why  the  de'il 
couldn't  the  man  have  said  what  his  clue 
was!"     Mr.  Galbraith's  indignation  flared 
up  for  a  moment,  then  flickered  out,  and 
he    went    on    energetic    but    irresolute: 
"  What's  the  best  thing  for  me  to  do  ?    It's 
the  suspense  that   I   can't   stand — never 
could  stand  doing  nothing — and  so  I  did 
the    v^Tong    thing — struck    out  '  when    I 
should  have  waited.     Pat,  you  can   tell 
Tommy   George  to   run   up  the  horses. 
I'll    take    Gipsy    Girl — she's    got    racing 
blood  in   her — and  staying  power,  too — 
she'll   do   the   distance   best.     If   I   ride 
sharp  all  night  I  might  catch  the  morning 
train  and  get  to  Kirby's  oflfice  first  thing 
Thursday." 

"No,   no,   Dad.     Patsy   is  right.     It's 


far  belter  to  wait.  Stop  until  lo-morrow 
at  least.  Perhaps  Mr.  Kirby  will  tele- 
graph, and  there'll  be  somebody  bringing 
it  from  Wooralba." 

"Well,  well!  There's  something  in 
that.  It  was  Saturday  last  Oora  rode 
over  to  Wooralba  and  there  was  nothing 
come  then.  Well,  I'll  see  when  to-morrow's 
here.  You're  a  braw  lassie,  Su.  You 
take  after  your  grandmother.  And  you 
were  always  the  one  that  tried  to  beg 
Harry  off  a  thrashing."  Mr.  Galbraith 
groaned  as  though  the  memory  hurt  him. 
"You  were  fond  of  Harry,  weren't 
you,  Su?  Though  you  didn't  always  get 
on  so  well  either.  But  there's  aye  a  fond- 
ness between  twins.  Well,  it's  you  and  me 
now,  that's  going  to  try  and  keep  the  lad 
straight.  Rough  treatment  didn't  answer 
before.  Poor  boy!  I'll  wager  he's  had 
worse  roughing  since.  Now  we'll  see  how 
kindness  works.  Maybe  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  the  thrashing — and  that  time  I  chained 
him  up — the  laddie  was  in  the  right  of  it. 
It  wasn't  a  Douglas  or  a  Galbraith  that 
'ud  have  submitted  to  a  murdering  black- 
fellow's  treatment — and  from  his  own 
father!  Aweel!  that's  past,  and  you  and 
me,  girlie,  we'll  pull  the  boy  through,  if 
anything  will  do  it,  and  make  a  straight 
man  of  him  yet.  You'll  help  your  old 
dad — eh,  lassie,  eh  ? " 

"Yes,  father,  indeed  I  will,"  she  was 
sobbing,  electrically  touched  by  his  emo- 
tion, so  foreign  to  his  reserved  Scotch 
nature.  "Oh,  I  hope,  for  all  our  sakes, 
that  Harry  may  be  found!  I'll  do  any- 
thing— anything  to  make  him  good  again. 
Oh!  he  must  respond.  It  wouldn't  be 
possible  that  he  shouldn't.  Let  us  try 
and  wait  in  patience  and  not  fret  our- 
selves until  we  know  what  Mr.  Kirby  has 
done." 

Patsy,  who  had  been  looking  on  at  the 
scene,  her  homely  face  troubled  and  per- 
plexed, gave  her  step-daughter  a  grateful 
glance. 

"Sure  that's  the  right  way  to  look  at  it," 
Patsy  put  in. 

Patsy  turned  away  half  laughing,  half 
crving,  to  sort  the  letters  she  had  laid  on 
the  table.  "There's  a  heap  here  for  you, 
Duncan,  and  the  store  list  has  to  be  made 
out  this  mail,  for  we  are  running  short  of 
several  things,"  she  said,  with  a  purpose- 


58 


THE   CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


f ul  change  of  tone  to  the  brisk  and  prac- 
tical. "You'll  want  to  go  over  these,  as 
there's  a  chance  of  your  starting  off  on  a 
sudden  to  Townsville.  Will  you  go  along 
to  the  office,  and  I'll  come  to  you  as  soon 
as  I've  got  through  the  others?" 

Mr.  Galbraith  took  the  pile  of  docu- 
ments. "Ah!  well,  maybe  I'll  be  readier 
by^^myself,  Pat,  for  a  bit,"  he  said,  and 
went  off,  still  agitated,  but  looking 
ashamed  of  the  feeling  into  which  he  had 
been  betrayed.  Mrs.  Galbraith  turned  to 
the  contents  of  the  mail  bag,  which  she 
spread  out  on  the  dining  table — letters, 
papers,  small  parcels,  and  among  these  a 
packet  marked  "garden  seeds,"  for  Ah  Sin. 

"It's  queer  all  the  seeds  they  get — 
those  Chinamen,"  observ^ed  Patsy. 

"It  was  only  a  fortnight  ago  that  Ah 
Sin  had  a  parcel  of  Indian  shot  seed — 
such  a  lot  of  them — like  so  many  teeny 
bullets!" 

Susan  glanced  up  quickly  from  the  in- 
spection of  her  own  correspondence  and 
caught  her  breath  in  a  quick  little  shiver. 
There  rose  before  her  a  vision  of  the 
bough  shade  verandah  at  the  Bore  humpey 
— now  empty — and  of  Wolfe  arranging  the 
'possum  rug  on  the  settle  and  of  the  smile 
that  had  played  on  his  mouth  as  he  asked 
about  Ah  Sin's  mail.  But  she  said  noth- 
ing to  her  step-mother. 

Her  eye  was  attracted  by  a  letter  from 
Brian  Cordeaux,  last  in  her  budget,  which 
was  mostly  from  Sydney  friends,  with  the 
exception  of  an  envelope  of  thin  common 
paper,  addressed  in  poor  Mr.  Meiklejohn's 
laboriously  even  writing.  There  was  a 
letter,  also,  from  Brian  for  Mrs.  Galbraith. 
Patsy,  leading  the  way  to  the  front  veran- 
dah, opened  hers  first,  exclaiming  to  her 
step-daughter  as  she  read  it,  in  a  tone  of 
pleased  surprise: 

"There  now,  Su!  I  hope  this  will 
shake  you  out  of  the  dumps — and  faith! 
setting  aside  poor  Harr}*,  I  haven't  been 
able  to  make  out  what's  put  you  into 
them,  for  there  never  was  a  nicer  young 
man  than  Mr.  Cordeaux,  nor  one  more 
ready  to  make  you  a  devoted  husband,  if 
that's  what  you  have  been  fretting  o\-er. 
He's  got  his  leave,  and  he'll  be  up  here 
almost  as  soon  as  this,  he  says,  if  he  can 
catch  the  same  boat  that's  brought  it. 
I'll  just  go  and  talk  to  Ah  Hong  and  see 


whether  they're  going  to  kill  that  sheep 
this  evening.  Oora  did  say  she'd  shoot 
some  wild  duck  when  she  was  out  and 
bring  them  home,  but  there's  no  depend- 
ing on  Oora.  What  room  shall  I  put  Mr. 
Cordeaux  in,  Su?" 

Susan  lifted  her  eyes  from  her  own  let- 
ter, which  was  a  little  longer  than  Patsy's. 
The  lids  were  red,  more  from  the  tears 
she  had  suppressed  than  those  she  had 
shed.  The  traces  of  emotion  were  clearly 
marked  on  her  face,  but  it  had  an  expres- 
sion of  girlish  anticipation,  which  Patsy 
noted  with  satisfaction,  for  Patsy  dis- 
tinctly favoured  Brian's  suit. 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know,  Pat.  Put  him 
anvwhere — he  won't  mind." 

"He  is  coming,  isn't  he?"  asked  Patsy, 
glancing  at  Susan's  longer  letter. 

"  Oh,  yes,  he's  coming,"  Susan  answered 
with  a  tremulous  laugh.  "  Of  course  he's 
coming." 

"Do  you  think  the  verandah  room, 
where  Mr.  W^olfe  slept,  would  do?"  asked 
Patsy. 

"No,  no;  he  mustn't  have  that  room!" 
Susan  exclaimed,  with  an  energy  that 
puzzled  Patsy.  "Let  him  have  the  one 
at  the  other  end  of  the  verandah." 

"Sure,  it's  a  bit  bigger,  but  I  wouldn't 
say  it  was  as  comfortable,"  said  Patsy, 
considering.  "You  know  the  lining  is 
loose  from  the  wall  and  the  centipedes  and 
scorpions  do  make  a  horrid  scrabbling  in- 
side the  canvas.  Still,  if  he's  been  in 
other  Bush  places  he'll  know  they  can't 
get  out,  and  that  you've  got  to  expect 
white  ants  and  centipedes  in  old  slab 
houses." 

Susan  made  an  impatient  gesture.  "  It's 
all  nonsense  about  the  centipedes,  and  if 
they  are  there,  he  won't  bother  about 
them." 

"No,  he'll  be  bothering  too  much  over 
a  two-legged  creature,"  laughed  Patsy,  and 
betook  herself  to  her  consultation  with 
Ah  Hong. 

Susan  read  Brian's  letter  over  again. 
It  had  in  its  tone  a  certain  restrained  ex- 
citement, as  though  the  writer  were  burst- 
ing with  some  intelligence  that  prudence 
or  other  considerations  made  him  refrain 
from  telling.  There  was,  however,  one 
piece  of  news  which  he  had  just  received 
bv  the  English  mail,  on  which  he  ventured 


THE   LOST   EARL   OF   ELLAN 


69 


to  be  Gommunicative.  After  remarking 
that  Susan  would  perhaps  understand  his 
not  feeling  at  liberty  yet  awhile  to  go  into 
full  details  concerning  his  future  prospects, 
he  went  on  to  say  that  one  bit  of  luck  had 
fallen  to  his  share  and  that,  whatever  hap- 
pened— the  words  were  underscored — he 
would  at  least  be  in  a  position  to  make  a 
small  settlement  upon  his  wife,  should  he 
ever  be  fortunate  enough  to  win  the  one 
woman  in  the  world  he  wished  to  marry. 
For,  he  related,  it  had  been  found  that 
a  few  days  before  starting  on  that  fatal 
railway  journey.  Lord  Elian  had  had  a 
new  will  drawn  up  in  Chicago,  under 
which  Brian  inherited  the  sum  of  ;^i 5,000 
— not  a  fortune,  but  sufficient  to  make 
him  independent  of  the  Navy.  It  ap- 
peared from  a  letter  written  by  Lady  In- 
verell — the  late  Lord's  only  other  child — 
to  Brian's  mother,  who  was  also  a  bene- 
ficiary, that  this  last  will  was  the  result  of 
a  quarrel  between  Lord  Linne  and  his 
father,  the  son  having  declared  his  inten- 
tion of  marrying  the  undesirable  lady  of 
his  choice.  For  that  reason  Lord  Elian, 
infuriated,  had  left  everything  he  could, 
outside  the  entailed  property,  away  from 
his  heir,  between  Madge  Inverell  and  the 
family  of  his  second  brother,  Brian's  father. 

Susan  was  contentedly  digesting  this 
information  when  there  came  the  sound 
of  horses'  feet  cantering  down  from  the 
gidya  forest  at  the  side  of  the  house 
furthest  from  the  slip-rails,  and  present- 
ly Oora,  coming  through  a  side  gate  in 
the  garden,  stepped  from  behind  a  thick 
lagerstromia  shrub  towards  the  veran- 
dah. She  looked  pale  and  excited  and 
her  eyes  were  large  and  eager. 

Seeing  her  sister  alone,  she  beckoned 
her  to  the  end  of  the  verandah. 

"Su,  put  on  your  hat  at  once  and 
come  out  with  me.  I've  got  something 
to  tell  you  that  I  don't  want  the  others 
to  know  about  until  I'm  quite  certain. 
I  want  you  to  help  me." 

rr 

CHAPTER  XXII 

OUSAN  ran  down  the  verandah  steps 
^  and  out  into  the  shrubbery,  where 
Oora  waited,  her  habit  gathered  up, 
showing  her  shapely  foot,  on  which  was 
a  lady's  spur. 


"  What  is  it  ?"  Susan  exclaimed.  "  What 
do  you  want  me  to  do?" 

"I'm  going  out  again  at  once,"  said 
Oora,  "and  there  are  .some  things  I 
want  you  to  get  me  in  the  house.  I'll 
tell  you  presently." 

Susan  glanced  towards  the  belt  of 
forest  that  curved  towards  the  head 
station.  "Why  is  Pintpot  unsaddling 
your  horse  up  there  among  the  gidgee 
trees?" 

"I  told  him  to  let  her  go  and  run  me 
up  Gipsy  Girl.  My  mare's  gone  lame 
and  there'd  be  a  fuss  that  I  don't  want 
just  now,  if  father  saw  it.  She  put  her 
foot  in  a  paddy-melon  hole  four  miles 
this  side  of  the  Iron-Bark.  I  was  going 
to  cut  across  to  the  Range  country,  but 
there  was  no  use  in  going  on  and  I'm 
afraid  I've  spurred  her  pretty  badly, 
poor  creature,  to  get  her  home  in  time." 

"In  time  for  what?"  asked  Susan. 
"You've  left  the  blue-stone  and  things 
at  the  Iron-Bark?"  For  she 'saw^  that 
the  pack-saddle  on  Pintpot's  horse  was 
unloaded. 

"Yes,  yes.  I  took  the  things  to  the 
Iron-Bark,  and  I  should  have  been  miles 
away  by  now,  if  the  mare  hadn't  gone 
lame.  Perhaps  it's  as  weU,  though,  for 
Gipsy  Girl  is  a  better  goer  and  I  want 
a  better  horse  than  that  old  ration-carrier 
for  Pintpot  and  a  quiet  hack  besides." 

"But  what  for?"  said  Susan,  puzzled 
by  Oora's  manner.  "Are  you  going  to 
fetch  anybody  here?" 

"Perhaps — I  hope  so.  Oh!  Su,  don't 
ask  questions — and  you  are  not  to  say 
a  word  to  Dad  until  I  come  back,  for  it 
would  drive  him  wild  if  he  knew.  He'd 
want  to  be  rushing  off  and  perhaps, 
after  all,  there's  nothing  in  it.  And  I'm 
afraid  something  dreadful  may  have  hap- 
pened for  Harry  to  be  out  like  that  with 
the  blacks." 

"Harry  out  with  the  blacks!"  repeat- 
ed Susan  in  amazement. 

"He  must  have  been  wandering  with 
them  for  ever  so  long — if  it's  he — and 
his  head  is  wrong  they  say — I  don't 
know  how." 

"But  what  do  you  mean?  WTio  has 
told  you  this?" 

"I  met  old  King  Birraboi  and  Mari- 
anne this  side  of  the  Iron-Bark  as  I  was 


60 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


coming  back.  I  believe  they  were  com- 
ing in  to  get  opium  from  Ah  Sin — the 
wretches!  All  the  other  blacks  are 
camped  at  the  foot  of  the  range.  Bir- 
raboi  said  they'd  been  having  a  big 
woolla  (council)  and  most  of  the  strange 
blacks  have  gone  away.  One  set  of 
them  was  a  Bundah  tribe,  and  Birraboi 
said  they  had  a  white  man  with  them 
very  like  Harry,  but  'white  man  alto- 
gether black  fellow  now,'  he  said.  And 
then  he  began  to  tell  me  that  Billabri — 
that's  one  of  their  debil-debils — had 
made  the  white  man  'plenty  sick  long-a 
cobra-head — scrub  madness  they  call  it 
— so  that  they  couldn't  eat  him,  because, 
of  course,  the  blacks  think  mad  people 
sacred.  Besides,  Birraboi  told  me,  some 
of  the  Bundah  blacks  called  themselves 
brothers  belonging  to  the  white  man, 
and  wouldn't  let  the  others  eat  him." 

Susan  stared  bewilderedly  at  her  sis- 
ter, unable  to  grasp  the  possible  signifi- 
cance of  this  apparently  wild  tale.  Her 
own  mind  was  in  chaos.  She  almost 
ridiculed  the  suggestion  which  seemed 
to  her  impossible  and  fantastic. 

"Really,  Oora,  I  think  it  is  you  who 
are  crazed.  As  for  Birraboi,  I  believe 
his  fancies  are  generally  due  to  opium. 
If  there  is  a  white  man  among  the  blacks, 
it  cannot  be  Harry.  How  could  you 
imagine  it  could  be?  Harry  was  not 
at  all  likely  to  go  mad,  and  if  he  were 
sane,  he  certainly  would  not  live  with 
black  fellows.  But  of  course  you  didn't 
know — there  was  a  letter  in  the  mail 
bag  from  Mr.  Kirby  saying  he'd  got  a 
clue  up  north  and  was  following  it. 
He'd  telegraphed  to  Cooktown  and  the 
Palmer  and  expects  to  let  us  have  def- 
inite news  directly.  Harry  can't  be  in 
both  places  at  the  same  time.  Your 
idea's  perfectly  impossible." 

"Very  well,  think  so.  Anyhow,  I'm 
going  to  find  out,"  answered  Oora  dog- 
gedly. 

"Going  where?" 

"To  the  camp." 

"Going  to  the  camp  of  a  lot  of  canni- 
bal blacks!  Do  you  think  I  shall  let 
you  do  such  a  wild  thing  and  not  tell 
father  to  stop  you?  You  might  be 
killed  and  eaten  yourself." 

Oora's  answer  was  to  pull  out  of  the 


breast  of  her  riding  jacket  the  chain  with 
the  shark's-tooth  amulet. 

"Why,  you  have  got  your  charm 
again!"  cried  Susan  in  astonishment, 
for  Oora  had  said  nothing  about  the  re- 
covery of  her  treasure.  "How  did  you 
find  it?     \\'ho  got  it  for  you?" 

"If  you  wish  to  know,  it  was  Mr. 
Cordeaux,"  replied  Oora  unguardedly, 
and  too  impatient  to  consider  what  her 
admission  might  lead  to.  "He  brought 
it  back  to  me — but  I  can't  be  worried 
now  with  questions." 

Susan's  face  changed.  Her  former 
vague  jealousy  began  to  work  again, 
though  if  she  had  reflected  reasonably 
for  a  moment,  she  would  have  seen  that 
there  was  no  foundation  for .  it.  But 
Susan  was  not  reasonable.  She  was  far 
too  much  wrought  up  to  take  a  reason- 
able view  of  anything.  She  w^as  like  a 
leaf  tossed  by  the  gusts  of  a  tempest. 
Brian  Cordeaux  might,  however,  have 
augured  well  for  his  suit  from  the  chill 
resentment  in  her  tone  as  she  answered: 

"Certainly,  I  don't  wish  to  pry  into 
your's  and  Mr.  Cordeaux's  secrets." 

Oora  shrugged  her  shoulders  in  petu- 
lant contempt,  and  Susan,  nettled,  went 
on: 

"I  suppose  you  know  that  he  is  on 
his  way  up  here?" 

Oora  stopped  in  her  walk  a  second — 
the  two  were  pacing  along  the  fringe 
of  gidya  scrub.  "Oh!  I  am  glad  of  that," 
she  said  impulsively.  "He  will  be  such 
a  help  and  comfort." 

Susan  misinterpreted  the  gladness.  The 
pendulvmi  of  her  mood  swayed  anew 
towards  Brian.  Now  Oora  stopped  again 
and  spoke  impetuously  to  her  sister. 

"You  don't  seem  to  mind  much  about 
Harn,',  Su— but  he's  yottr  twin,  and  I 
thought  you  cared  for  him  almost  more 
than  for  anybody." 

"Yes,  I  care  for  him,"  Susan  an- 
swered in  a  stifled  voice.  "I  feel  about 
Harry  in  a  way  you  could  never  under- 
stand." 

"It  doesn't  matter  how  one  feels!" 
Oora  exclaimed.     "The  thing  is  to  act." 

"Yes.  when  there's  anything  sensible 
to  do,  but  you  are  bent  on  a  useless 
chase — useless  and  dangerous." 

"No,     perfectly     safe — for     me.     The 


THE    LOST   EARL   OF   ELLAN 


«1 


most  savage  black  wouldn't  harm  me 
if  I  showed  him  that  charm.  It's  as 
sacred  to  them  as  a  Bora  message-stick. 
And,  anyway,  there's  nothing  to  be 
afraid  of.  The  Myall  tribes  are  get- 
ting bunya-bunyas,  and  the  Bundah  one 
is  camping  with  ours — the  white  man 
with  them,  Birraboi  told  me.  If  it  comes 
to  that,  Birraboi  and  Marianne  can  be 
kept  here  to-night  as  hostages — they'll 
be  found  camping  outside  x^h  Sin's  gar- 
den, probably  smoking  opium,  so  you 
see  I'm  quite  safe." 

Susan  assented.  There  was  some- 
thing in  that.  She  remembered  again 
what  Wolfe  had  said,  and  she  had  never 
told  her  father  about  the  opium  trafftc 
with  the  blacks.  Oora  continued  eagerly. 
"1  know  exactly  where  the  blacks' 
camp  is — just  at  the  entrance  to  Razor- 
Back  Gully.  Pintpot  has  been  there. 
I  could  go  and  be  back — easily,  allow- 
ing for  the  led  horse — by  midnight.  It's 
full  moon.  I've  got  my  revolver  and 
plenty  of  cartridges,  and  it  isn't  the  first 
time  I've  done  the  same  sort  of  thing. 
Now,  wall  you  help  me  Su,  and  hold 
your  tongue?  Don't  you  see,  if  you  go 
and  make  a  fuss,  Dad  won't  beheve  me 
any  more  than  you  do,  because  of  Kirby's 
letter,  but  he'll  get  out  his  guns  and 
make  no  end  of  preparation,  as  if  he  were 
going  forth  to  battle,  and  perhaps  not 
start  till  to-morrow.  Then  the  blacks 
will  get  warning,  and  as  they've  prob- 
ably been  spearing  cattle  and  stealing 
sheep,  they  will  be  frightened  and  make 
for  the  gorges;  and  the  opportunity — 
for  whatever  it  may  be  worth — is  lost. 
Whereas,  I  will  ride  over  quickly  and 
quietly  with  Pintpot,  talk  to  them  in 
[  their  own  language,  show  them  my 
I  charm,  and  if  there  are  any  Bundah 
I  blacks  there  the  whole  thing  will  be 
I   plain  sailing." 

'       Susan  had  to  confess  that  Oora's  argu- 

'■    ments  were  plausible,  and  moreover,  the 

girl  was  overpowered  in  spite  of  herself 

I   by  Oora's  strong  will,  though  as  to  the 

!   object    of    the    enterprise    she    remained 

incredulous.  ^ 

I        "I'll  tell  you  what  I  want  you  to  do. 

I   Go  back  to  the  house  and  get  me  some 

'  food  that  I  can  easily  carry — sandwiches 

and  some  of  those  meat  lozenges  Patsv 


got  for  me  when  I  was  ill — they  might 
be  useful.  And  get  me  a  flask  of  brandy, 
and  if  you  can  manage  it,  an  old  suit  of 
Dad's.  I  expect  that  is  about  all  you  can 
fetch.  And  will  you  bring  the  things  to 
the  bunyip's  water-hole?  It  is  by  the 
road  to  the  Iron-Bark,  and  I  told  Pintpot 
to  lead  the  horses  down  there  when  he'd 
got  them  run  up  and  .saddled.  He  .said 
he  could  catch  them  and  saddle  them 
up  among  the  gidgee,  for  it  won't  do  to 
run  them  into  the  yard.  I'll  be  waiting 
at  the  water-hole."  Susan  went  back 
to  the  house  and  Oora  proceeded  alone 
to  the.  bunyip's  water-hole.  The  after- 
noon was  advancing  and  Oora  grew 
impatient.  While  she  waited,  her  quick 
ear  caught  the  sound  of  horses  cantering 
from  the  direction  of  the  lower  slip-rails 
towards  the  head  station,  and  then  came 
the  faint  noise  of  dogs  barking.  But 
for  the  dogs  barking  she  might  have  sup- 
posed that  Tommy  George  was  running 
up  riding  horses  from  the  larger  paddock. 
As  it  was,  she  fancied  visitors  must  have 
arrived  at  the  head  station.  There  was 
nothing  strange,  however,  in  that,  for 
travellers  often  passed  by.  But  she 
thought  both  Pintpot  and  Susan  must  have 
lingered  needlessly,  perhaps,  to  see  the 
visitors,  though  in  reality,  neither  could 
have  come  so  soon.  Now  she  fancied 
that  she  heard  a  horse  trotting  in  the 
distance  from  the  opposite  direction, 
and  she  stood  still  on  the  bank  of  the 
water-hole,  peering  into  the  bush  with 
her  long-sighted  eyes,  her  ears  strained 
to  listen.  No  ordinary  person  would 
have  heard  the  faint  sound,  but  Oora 
was  alwa3's  said  to  be  as  good  a  tracker 
as  a  black  fellow. 

She  was  not  deceived.  A  man,  urging 
a  tired  beast  along  the  track  saw  her,  but 
not  till  after  she  had  seen  him.  He 
thought  that  his  eyes  dazzled  him.  She 
was  standing  with  her  back  to  the  sun, 
in  the  shadow  of  a  great  glossy-leaved  tree, 
through  which  shone  shafts  of  golden 
light.  Tinged  by  the  foliage,  they  seemed 
to  surround  her  with  a  yellow-green  flame 
that  instantly  recalled  to  him  a  certain  dell 
in  the  shrub  at  Acobarra  and  a  girl  stand- 
ing against  the  background  of  setting  sun 
and  serpent-like  creeper  withes.  A  thick- 
stemmed,  curiouslv  mottled  climber  hung 


6S 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


close  to  her  now,  coiling  about  a  branch. 
The  girl  did  not  wear  ethereal  white  and 
green  garments,  but  a  bush  riding-habit 
of  greyish-brown,  with  a  brown  cap  on  her 
rough  dark  hair,  yet  there  was  something 
of  the  sinuous  grace  and  witchery  that  he 
remembered  so  well. 

He  rode  towards  her  like  a  man  in  a 
dream,  and  she,  recognising  him,  watched 
his  progress  with  a  wrapt,  triumphant 
gaze.  As  he  drew  nearer  she  saw  that  his 
horse  was  jaded  and  that  its  coat  was 
marked  with  mud  and  wet  that  had  caked 
and  dried  as  if  the  animal  had  been  ridden 
fast,  and  had  recently  swum  through 
flooded  waters.  The  man,  too,  was 
travel  stained  and  unkempt,  and  his  face 
was  of  a  ghostly  pallor. 

As  he  came  down  to  the  stream,  his 
horse,  feehng  its  rider's  attention  diverted 
and  the  reins  relaxed,  stooped  to  nibble 
the  green  grass  at  the  water's  edge.  The 
stranger  stared  at  Oora  in  the  wild  manner 
of  one  who  is  not  sure  whether  he  sees  a 
vision  or  a  reality.  Then  a  hoarse  cry 
came  from  his  lips:  "Sea  Witch!  Oh  I 
little  Sea  Witch,  is  it  truly  you?" 

She  stretched  out  her  arms  to  him  from 
the  bank  above  the  water-hole. 

"Oh!  come  to  me.  Yes,  it  is  I — Sea 
Witch.  Did  I  not  tell  you  that  we  should 
soon  meet  again  ?  Come  and  tell  me  how 
you  have  found  me  here." 

He  spurred  his  tired  horse  through  the 
water  and  slipped  oflf  its  back  at  Oora's 
feet.  He  was  almost  too  exhausted  and 
too  dazed  to  speak.  The  reins  dropped 
from  his  hand,  and  the  horse  jerked  its 
head,  neighing,  and  moving  a  step.  Oora 
caught  the  bridle,  seeing  at  the  same  time 
that  the  beast  had  the  Narrawan  brand, 
and  knowing  that  it  would  make  for  the 
yard,  she  buckled  the  bridle  round  that 
same  sapling  to  which  Wolfe  had  fastened 
the  same  horse  a  few  months  before. 

Then  she  turned  to  him  in  surprise. 
"How  did  you  come  to  be  riding  The  Out- 
law?" she  asked. 

Her  simple  question  brought  him  back 
to  a  sense  of  everyday  life. 

"I — I  took  him,"  he  stammered.  "I 
found  he  was  in  the  paddock  at  the 
Terminus.  My  owti  horse  was  knocked 
up.  I  had  to  take  him.  I  had  to  get  up 
here  as  quickly  as  I  could." 


"You  wanted  to  come — to  see  wef" 

"  No — it  was  not  to  see  yon, "  he  faltered, 
and  a  wondering  look  of  horror  came  over 
his  face.  "How  did  you  know  The 
Outlaw?"  he  asked  sharply. 

"Because  I  helped  to  break  him  in." 

He  staggered  back  a  step.  On  her  face 
too  was  a  look  of  part  wonder — part 
understanding. 

"I  know  now  who  you  are,"  she  said 
slowly.  "You  are  James  Wolfe.  I  have 
suspected  it  once  or  twice  since  I  came 
home." 

"Since  you  came  home!"  he  exclaimed. 
"Then  you  are — Oh!  I  was  blind  not  to 
see " 

"I  am  Oora  Galbraith,"  she  answered. 
"But  it  is  no  matter  who  or  what  I  am — 
or  you  either.  To  me,  always,  you  are  he 
whom  the  sea  gave  to  me — my  heart's 
mate;  my — beloved." 

She  uttered  the  last  word  in  a  tone  in- 
finitely sweet  and  caressing,  yet  in  which 
there  was  no  unmaidenliness,  nor  did  she 
invite  him  nearer  by  look  or  gesture.  He 
stood  gazing  at  her.  The  green  flame 
of  her  eyes  shone  upon  him ;  her  face  had 
its  mystic  look.  His  eyes  met  hers  with 
answering  passion. 

"And  you! — Oh!  You  are  indeed 
my  heart's  mate — my  best  beloved,"  he 
said,  and  taking  her  hands  in  his  he 
kissed  them  with  wild  tenderness.  Yet 
the  pain  in  his  voice  made  her  quiver 
apprehensively. 

"Yes,  but  it  does  matter!"  he  exclaimed. 
"It  matters  terribly  who  we  are — it 
matters  cruelly." 

"Why  cruelly — since  I  am  your  best 
loved  ?  Did  I  not  .say  from  the  beginning 
that  Fate  meant  us  to  belong  to  each  other  ? 
Did  I  not  tell  you  at  Acobarra,  when  you 
bade  me  good-bye,  that  we  should  soon 
meet  again  ?  I  was  not  afraid — I  knew. 
For  you  are  my  Destiny  and  I  am  yours. 
The  sea  gave  you  to  me  first;  and  now  the 
bush  gives  you  to  me  a  second  time." 

Again  he  kissed  her  hands. 

"You  told  me  that  there  was  another 
woman,"  Oora  went  on.  "I  guess  now 
who  that  other  woman  is.  Don't  mind 
about  her.  You  won't  make  her  unhappy. 
She'll  tell  you  herself  that  it  does  not 
matter.  For  there  couldn't  have  been 
anything  real  between  you  and  her,  when 


THE   LOST   EARL   OF   ELLAN 


63 


all  the  time,  though  we  did  not  know  each 
other  then,  it  was  our  two  lives  that  were 
joined  together." 

A  choking  murmur  of  endearment  fell 
from  \\'olfe,  and  still  holding  her  hands, 
he  drew  her  nearer  to  him  while  his  sor- 
rowful eyes  seemed  to  devour  her  face. 

"You  don't  understand — Oh!  Sea 
Witch,  dear,  true,  brave  Sea  Witch,  how 
can  I  make  you  understand?" 

Suddenly  there  came  now  clearly  dis- 
tinguishable, a  nearer  tread  of  horses 
rounding  the  curve  of  the  gidya  forest,  and 
almost  immediately  Pintpot  appeared 
mounted  and  leading  Gipsy  Girl  with 
Oora's  side-saddle  and  another  horse 
which  had  a  man's  saddle,  on  which  a 
pack  was  fastened.  Though  the  interrup- 
tion was  unwelcome,  Oora  was  relie\ed 
to  see  by  this  that  the  black  boy  had  been 
successful  in  catching  and  saddling  the 
animals  unobserved.  The  Outlaw  neigh- 
ed, straining  at  his  bridle,  and  Gipsy  Girl 
gave  a  s}inpathetic  whinny. 

"Mine  been  lookout  yarraman  (horse), 
Missee  Oora,"  cried  the  boy.  "You 
ready  to  start?" 

".All  right,  Pintpot.  Mine  close  up 
ready.  You  wait  two,  three  minute.  Sit 
down  there  long-a  gidgee.  You  been  see 
Missee  Susan?" 

"Yowi  (yes).  That  feller  come  along. 
My  word!  I  believe  that  Missa  Wolfe 
back  again." 

The  black  boy  grinned,  showing  all  his 
white  teeth  and  cut  a  caper  on  his  horse's 
back.  Oora  silenced  him,  bidding  him 
wait  inside  the  scrub,  and  he  disappeared 
from  \-iew.  Then  she  turned  to  Wolfe, 
but  as  she  did  so  her  glance  fell  on  the 
mottled  stem  of  the  huge  creeper  that  hung 
in  loops  and  knots  over  some  thick  under- 
growth beside  the  path.  She  saw  the 
creeper  shake  and  recoil  M*olently.  Some- 
body had  grasped  a  loop  among  the 
greener}',  and  Oora  guessed  that  it  must 
be  her  sister  whose  approach  she  had  not 
heard. 

"Susan,  is  that  you?"  she  called.  "I 
had  forgotten  all  about  you.  Hurr}', 
please,  for  I  must  be  off." 

The  greenery  stirred  afresh  and  in  a 
moment,  Susan,  passing  swiftly  through 
the  fringe  of  jungle  stood  upon  the  grassy 


space  where  she  had  once  talked  to  W  oife, 
and  confronted  him  and  Oora. 

She  was  very  white.  Her  whole  form 
was  quivering  with  barely  suppressed 
anger.  She  held  herself  very  straight,  her 
small  fair  head  erect,  and  all  the  dignity 
of  Lady  Susan  Galbraith  in  her  mien. 
But  Oora  shrank  at  the  sight  of  her  sister's 
face.  For  the  first  time  she  began  to 
think  that  it  was  Wolfe  for  whom  Susan 
had  cared. 

"I  am  sorry  to  have  been  so  long,"  said 
Susan  quietly.  "Mr.  Cordeaux  is  here," 
she  went  on,  the  intensity  of  her  emotion 
forcing  her  to  take  refuge  in  conventional 
speech  lest  she  should  betray  too  much. 
"It  was  he  who  kept  me;  he  has  just 
ridden  up  with  a  stockman  who  was 
coming  from  \\'oorral  and  who  showed 
him  the  track." 

"Oh,  that's  aU  right!"  faltered  Oora, 
awkwardly.  "Look  here,  Su — I'd  better 
tell  you " 

"There  is  no  need  to  tell  me  anything," 
Susan  answered  haughtily.  "I  have  seen 
and  heard  enough  to  understand  what 
your  relations  are  with  this  gentleman." 

Her  eyes  swept  coldly  past  Oora  and 
rested  full  on  Wolfe.  There  was  a  passion 
of  wounded  tenderness  and  indignation, 
and  of  something  deeper-seated  still — 
something  that  looked  Hke  scorn — in  their 
troubled  blue  depths.  But  \\'olfe  returned 
her  look  straightly  with  one  of  tragic 
solemnity. 

"I  am  glad  you  are  here.  Miss  Gal- 
braith," he  said  in  tones  that  he  tried  to 
render  very  gentle,  "for  I  must  speak  to 
you,  though  I  don't  know  how  to  word  my 
intense  regret  for  the  manner  of  this  meet- 
ing. But  whatever  I  say  will  count  for 
nothing  when  you  know  the  truth.  Miss 
Galbraith,  I  have  come  on  a  terrible  errand. 
I  came  because  I  promised  you  that  I 
would  do  so,  and  it  seemed  the  only  mark 
of  gratitude  and  respect  that  I  could  show 
you.  Believe  me,  I  had  no  idea  that  I 
should  see  yom-  sister  here.  I  didn't 
even  know  that  this  lady  was  your  sister." 

He  paused  and  Susan  shivered  as  she 
saw  the  look  he  cast  at  Oora,  w^ho,  her 
confidence  restored  at  the  sound  of  his 
voice,  stood  proudly  by,  listening  to  ever>' 
word.     Wolfe  continued:  "We  were  to- 


64 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


gether,  as  perhaps  you've  heard,  on  a 
raft  after  the  wreck  of  the  Qiietta,  when 
she  saved  my  Ufe  by  acts  of  the  most  heroic 
unselfishness — and  I — ^we — "  his  voice 
shook,  and  the  shiver  seized  Susan  again. 
"During  that  awful  time,"  he  went  on, 
''we  came  to  love  each  other  without  either 
of  us  knowing  who  the  other  was.  But 
afterwards — at  Thursday  Island — I  found 
out  what  you  know  I  was  going  up  there  to 
learn — that,  as  I  feared,  I  had  the  life  of  a 
fellow-creature  to  answer  for.  Since  then. 
Miss  Galbraith,  I  have  discovered  who 
that  fellow-creature  really  was — but  still 
I  felt  that  I  was  in  honour  bound  to  come 
and  tell  you  the  truth  before  giving  myself 
up  to  justice,  which  of  course  I  shall  do 
now.  You  know  the  story — and  so  does 
your  sister." 

His  tender,  tragic  gaze  turned  again  to 
Oora,  who  drew  nearer,  her  own  eyes,  full 
of  love  and  trust,  fixed  upon  his  face. 
Susan  turned  her  head  dumbly  away. 

"I  need  not  go  over  the  whole  horrible 
outUne  of  it  again  to  either  of  you,"  said 
Wolfe,  huskily,  jerking  out  his  words  now 
in  a  hard  rush  that  grated  upon  his  hearers. 
"  Only,  I  must  tell  you  this- — and  it  is  best 
that  you  should  both  hear  it  at  once.  She 
does  not  know  any  more  than  you,  who 
the  man  was  that  I  killed.  But  can't  you 
guess  who  it  was  ?  " 

There  was  silence.  Neither  of  the  girls 
answered  him.  Susan  stood  as  if  turned 
to  stone.  And  into  Oora's  uplifted  eyes 
a  cloud  of  apprehension  crept. 

"You  had  a  brother  once,"  continued 
"Wolfe.  "He  ran  away  and  was  after- 
wards on  the  diggings  where  I  was. 
They  used  to  call  him  Harr}-  the  Blower. 
He  was  only  a  lad — a  hot-tempered  lad — 
I  should  have  had  patience  with  him,  and 
never  have  allowed  myself  to  be  drawn 
into  a  quarrel.  But  I'm  hot-tempered 
too.  and  that  night  I'd  been  drinking  and 

and— I    saw    red "      Wolfe    halted 

and  his  miserable  eyes  turned  from  one  to 
the  other  of  the  two  women.  But  neither 
of  them  spoke.  On  the  faces  of  both  rose 
a  slow  comprehension  that  seemed  to 
stupefy  them.     Wolfe  went  on  harshly: 

"I've  nothing  to  say  in  my  owti  defence 
— except  that  I  didn't  realise  what  I  had 
done.  And,  of  course,  I  wasn't  sure — 
and  at  first  I  didn't  want  to  find  out.  Then 


you.  Miss  Galbraith,  in  your  angelic 
kindness  to  an  outcast,  gave  me  the  glim- 
mering hope  of  getting  back  to  be  some- 
thing of  what  I  had  really  once  been — a 
gentleman  and  a  man  of  honour.  You 
seemed  a  tj-pe  of  Goddess  to  me — I 
reverenced  and  worshipped  you;  I  shall 
always  reverence  you  for  what  you  did  for 
me.  But  now  I've  got  to  make  this 
awful  confession  to  }'ou — and  to  this  other 
dear  woman  whom  I  love  and  whom  I 
can  never  hope  to  win.  The  man  whom 
I  struck  down  with  a  tomahawk  up  there 
in  the  Yellaroi  Range,  and  then  ran 
away  from  like  a  cur  through  fear  that  I'd 
killed  him — that  man  I've  just  lately  learnt 
was  your  brother." 

The  two  girls  simply  stared  as  if  they 
had  not  taken  in  Wolfe's  words. 

"Don't  you  understand?"  he  ex- 
claimed desperately.  "It  was  your  own 
brother  1"  Then,  as  they  still  stared  in 
silence,  "The  brother  that  you  would 
not  speak  of,"  he  said,  addressing  Susan. 
"  If  you  had,  perhaps  I  should  have  known, 
and  then  I  should  have  gone  away  at 
once  most  likely,  and  you  would  have 
heard  of  me  no  more.  I  did  not  know 
his  real  name — nobody  does  know  any- 
one's real  name  on  the  diggings.  I 
knew  him  just  as  Harr\%  the  mate  of  a 
scoundrel  called  Flash  Sam.  It  is  only 
the  other  day  that  I  learned  who  he  was. 
My  own  mate  wrote  and  told  me  at 
Townsville.  He  found  it  out  through 
two  men  who  were  in  the  hut  at  the 
time,  and  who,  it  seems,  applied  the 
other  day  to  your  father's  lawyer  for  a 
reward  which  he  had  offered  for  any 
information  concerning  your  brother.  I 
am  trying  to  explain  so  that  you  may 
understand.  But  what  do  details  mat- 
ter? The  fact  is  enough,  and  every- 
thing will  be  made  clear  soon.  The 
police  are  after  me.  I  got  ahead  of 
them  by  swimming  a  flooded  river  they 
wouldn't  go  into.  But  I  meant  to  sur- 
render and  take  my  sentence,  either  for 
manslaughter  or  murder — whichever  they 
bring  it  in.  If  the  worst  happens,  it 
will  only  be  a  fitting  finish  to  a  blunder- 
ing fife.  Only  I  felt  that  I  must  come 
here  first,  because  there  was  my  promise 
to  you,  and  I  wanted  to  give  myself  up 
to   your   father.     It   seemed   only   fair —     | 


THE    LOST    EARL   OF   ELLAN 


65 


for  you've  both  been  so  good  to  me  and 
— and  I  wanted  to  thank  you — if  I  may." 

His  voice  broke  in  a  groan.  He  had 
dragged  himself  closer  to  Susan  and 
held  out  his  hands,  which  were  shaking. 
But  Susan  gave  a  smothered  cry — she 
seemed  unable  to  speak — and  waved  him 
aside  with  a  shuddering  gesture.  She 
had  covered  her  face,  but  in  the  fleeting 
glimpse  Wolfe  caught  of  it,  he  saw  that 
the  conflict  of  her  scorn  and  tenderness 
was  over.  Her  features  had  turned  to 
a  mask  of  stone.  He  looked  distract- 
edly from  Susan  to  Oora.  But  even 
Oora  made  no  sign.  She,  too,  ap- 
peared horror-stricken,  and  an  exclama- 
tion of  despair  came  from  the  man. 

''My  God!  What  shaU  I  do?  It  is 
more  than  I  can  bear." 

He  staggered  towards  his  horse.  But 
as  he  passed  her,  Oora  put  out  her  hands 
to  him  with  a  curious  yearning  murmur. 
Her  limbs  trembled,  but  otherwise  she 
was  calm.  He  caught  her  hands  in  his 
and  the  strange  green  eyes  smiled  faintly 
at  him — the  ghost  of  a  smile,  but  one  of 
steadfast  sweetness. 

"Courage!  courage!"  she  whispered, 
"you  are  mine,  remember.  Fate  gave 
me  your  life.  I  saved  you  on  the  sea, 
and  if  need  be,  I  shall  save  you  here  in 
•the  bush.  Harry  isn't  dead.  I  believe 
he  is  not  far  ofif.  I  was  just  now  going 
to  look  for  him.  There  has  been  some 
dreadful  mistake  about  all  this.  Trust 
me  to  find  it  out,  but  don't  give  up  hope." 

'Thank  heaven  for  those  words,"  he 
returned;  "thank  heaven  for  your  faith  in 
me,  Sea  Witch.  For  now  I  know  that 
in  your  heart  of  hearts  you  don't  blame 
me.  And,  indeed,  I  am  guiltless  of  in- 
tent, but  what  hope  can  there  be,  my 
dear?    I— I  killed  him." 

"You  didn't,"  she  cried.  "It  may 
have  been  someone  else,  but  it  was  not 
Harry.  Of  that  I  am  siire.  Oh — I  am 
sure  now  that  my  power  of  thought  is 
coming  back  to  me.  You  froze  it  just 
at  first.  Hold  me — w-arm  me — so  that 
I  can  think  the  better.  Hold  me  close 
to  you." 

She  clung  to  him,  trembling  still,  and 
shut  her  eyes,  leaning  against  his  breast. 
He  folded  his  arms  passionately  around 
her,  but  there  was  the  agony  of  a  last 


fareweU  in  his  look.  Neither  of  them 
noticed  Susan,  nor  thought  of  her  at 
this  supreme  moment  of  their  fives. 
Oora's  tremblings  gradually  ceased,  and 
presently  she  began  speaking  in  a  rapid 
undertone.  "Listen!"  she  said.  "Some 
one  has  been  wandering  in  the  bush 
among  the  blacks.  I  heard  it  from  one 
of  them.  They  think  it  is  Harry,  and  I 
am  going — now,  at  once — to  see  him. 
It  is  not  very  far  from  here.  Suppose 
you  come  with  me.  Then  we  can  judge 
for  ourselves  what  is  the  best  thing  to 
do."  As  Wolfe  did  not  answer  she 
looked  up  at  him,  wide-eyed  and  wonder 
ing.  "  Don't  you  see  there  is  just  a  chance 
— and  we  had  better  take  it,"  she  said, 
raising  her  voice,  "I  meant  to  go  in  any 
case,  but  now  we  ought  not  to  delay. 
Won't  you  come  with  me,  or  must  I  go 
alone?" 

His  arms  tightened  round  her. 

"My  dearest!  I  would  go  with  you 
to  the  end  of  the  world,  but — my  life  is 
forfeit.  It  would  seem  fike  running 
away — again." 

"Nonsense!"  she  exclaimed.  "And  if 
it  were,  I  would  help  you  to  that  too.  We 
must  find  some  means  of  escape  out  of 
this."  Oora  drew  herself  from  his  arms 
and  pushed  him  a  fittle  away,  while  she 
turned  hastily  to  Susan  who,  roused  by 
her  tone,  had  turned  likewise  and  faced 
her  with  a  strained  look.  She  also  be- 
gan to  speak,  and  Oora  was  silenced 
before  the  few*  white  hot  words  that  fell 
from  her  sister's  dry  Hps. 

"You  want  to  help  our  brother's  mur- 
derer to  escape?  You  would  do  that! 
Little  you  care  about  finding  Harry — 
except  for  the  sake  of  this  man.  Ah!  it 
is  like  you  to  think  only  of  him.  I  thought 
I  cared  for  him  too,  once,"  and  Susan 
struck  her  hands  passionately  together, 
"but  now — now — "  she  stopped  chok- 
ingly.    The  words  strangled  her. 

"Don't  say  any  more,  Su,"  muttered 
Oora  pityingly.  But  Susan's  control 
had  broken  down. 

"Don't  say  any  more!"  she  almost 
shrieked.  "Leave  you  to  ride  off  with 
him — to  help  him  to  escape  from  jus- 
tice? But  he  shaU  not.  You  shaU  not. 
It  is  too  cruel.  You  have  no  natural 
feelings.     All  that  you  think  of  is  this 


66 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


stranger — a  man  whom  )'ou  scarcely 
know.  You  ought  to  be  ashamed — 
Oora — you — who  made  love  to  him  out 
in  the  sea.  Oh!  I  know!  You  forget 
that  I  heard  all  your  mad  talk  in  the 
fever.  It  was  he  to  whom  you  gave  your 
charm — it  was  he  who — oh!  oh!"  Susan 
was  forced  to  stop  again,  her  throat  con- 
vulsed. She  made  a  violent  efifort  to 
regain  some  measure  of  calmness,  and 
Oora  looked  on  with  growing  impatience, 
while  Wolfe  tried  not  to  overhear  what 
passed  between  them. 

"You  must  have  had  a  secret  meet- 
ing with  this  man  at  Acobarra,"  con- 
tinued Susan.  "Did  he  bring  you  back 
your  chain?  Did  you  lie  to  me  about 
Brian?  Brian  could  never  have  lent 
himself  to  anything  false  or  dishonour- 
able.    He  at  least  is  true  and  good." 

"Of  course  he  is,"  put  in  Oora  toler- 
antly. "But  all  that  is  nothing  to  what 
we  have  to  consider  now.  Su,  stop 
raving  for  a  minute  and  listen  to  com- 
mon sense." 

"I  have  Hstened  to  enough  to-day," 
said  Susan,  in  chill  disdain.  "Do  you 
understand  that  this  man  murdered  our 
brother?" 

"No,  he  did  not,"  said  Oora  quickly. 
"Even  if  he  had  killed  Harry,  it  wouldn't 
have  been  murder,  for  he  never  meant 
to  do  it.  He  struck  at  Harry  in  anger, 
because  Harry  insulted  him — didn't  he 
tell  you  that?  It  was  an  accident.  But 
I  tell  you  that  Harry  is  not  dead.  I 
know  it.  Something  inside  me  says  so. 
It's  a  voice  I  sometimes  hear;  it  very 
seldom  speaks,  but  when  it  does,  it  is 
never  vn"ong.  I  am  going  now  to  prove 
the  truth  of  what  I  say.  I  shall  ride  as 
fast  as  I  can,  and  I  .shall  be  back  before 
midnight,  maybe."  She  swung  round 
and  laid  her  hand  on  Wolfe's  arm. 

"Will  you  go  with  me — or  not?" 
•    "Certainly   I   shall   go   with  you,"   he 
answered.     "I  cannot  let  you  go  alone." 

"Good!     Then  we  start  at  once." 

She  gave  her  own  "coo-ee"  and  Pintpot 
immediately  responded,  appearing  from 
within  the  curve  of  the  gidya  scrub  with 
the  two  led  horses. 

"Stop  along-a-track,"  commanded  Oora. 
"I  come."  She  turned  to  her  sister. 
"Su,  did  you  fetch  me  the  brandy  and 


things  I  asked  you  to  get?  I  must  not 
go  without  them." 

"I  gave  them  to  Pintpot.  They  are 
in  the  pack,"  Susan  answered  still  in 
chill  resentment.  It  seemed  to  her  that 
Oora  was  desperately  wicked  or  else 
quite  mad.  But  Oora  did  not  care  what 
she  thought. 

"You'll  ride  the  horse  I  was  taking 
to  fetch  Harry,"  she  said  to  Wolfe.  "The 
Outlaw  is  quite  unfit  for  further  work. 
We  can  put  Harry  on  the  pack-horse, 
and  Pintpot  can  find  his  own  way  home. 
Come."  But  Wolfe  was  looking  at 
Susan,  and  a  spasm  of  intense  commis- 
eration suddenly  contracted  Oora's  heart. 
She  went  up  to  her  sister. 

"Dear  Su!  Don't  mourn  for  Harry 
as  quite  dead  until  we  have  made  sure 
that  he  is.  I  don't  think  he  can  be  my- 
self, but  at  all  events  we  shall  know  better 
in  a  few  hours.  Wish  us  luck — won't 
you?" 

But  Susan  thrust  the  sympathetic  hand 
away.  She  had  sunk  upon  the  ground 
and  was  crouching  under  a  tree,  the  cold 
outline  of  her  face  as  though  carved  in 
clay  against  its  mottled  trunk.  Fearing 
another  outbreak  if  she  waited  for  her 
to  speak,  Oora  dropped  a  light  kiss  upon 
the  bent  head  and,  gathering  her  habit 
together,  scrambled  up  the  bank  towards 
Pintpot.  \A'olfe  followed  her.  But  just 
at  the  top  where  Pintpot  held  the  horses, 
she  stopped  and  turned.  She  had  heard 
the  sound  of  someone's  tread,  quick, 
brisk,  and  even.  "Look!"  she  cried, 
and  caught  Wolfe's  hand  in  hers. 

Brian  Cordeaux  came  down  the  track 
from  the  head  station,  looking  trim  and 
neat  as  was  his  wont.  His  alert  eyes 
were  glancing  from  side  to  side,  but  they 
did  not  see  Oora  and  Wolfe,  for  they 
fell  on  Susan  crouching  by  the  tree.  He 
hurried  forward  and  knelt  beside  her 
while  the  pair  beyond  watched  him.  Very 
gently,  very  tenderly,  with  an  inex- 
pressibly sheltering  motion,  he  bent  over 
Susan,  and  she,  becoming  conscious  of 
his  presence,  turned  suddenly  and  flung 
herself  into  his  arms,  sobbing  as  though 
her  heart  would  break. 

"That's  all  right,"  said  Oora,  grimly 
setting  her  teeth.  "Let  'em  comfort 
each  other.     Now  we'll  ride  for  Harrv's 


A    WESTERN    HARVEST 


67 


life — and  what  is  more  to  me — for  yours." 
Wolfe  swung  her  into  the  saddle  with- 
out a  word,  for  it  was  not  the  time  for 
endearments.  Gipsy  Girl  was  arching 
her  perfect  neck  and  curvetting  to  be 
oflf.  She  was  a  black  mare  of  blood 
stock,  and  had  won  many  bush  races. 
Now,  as  Oora  shook  the  reins  out  she 
sped  off  like  an  arrow  through  the  creek 


and  away  over  the  undulating  ground 
upon  the  opposite  side.  Wolfe  had 
never  asked  Oora  where  she  meant  to 
go,  but  in  a  moment  he  had  mounted 
and  was  after  her,  and  through  the  end- 
less lines  of  gums  and  bendee  he  fol- 
lowed, scarcely  drawing  breath,  while 
Pintpot  on  the  pack  horse  made  the  best 
speed  he  could  in  the  rear. 


TO    BE    CONCLUDED 


A  Western  Harvest 

By  MYRA  J.  WILLSON 

Editorial  Note. — This  essay  was  written  by  a  scholar  in  the  Portage  la  Prairie  High 
School  in  competition  for  a  prize  offered  by  The  Canadian  Magazine  for  the  best 
description  of  this  typical  feature  of  western  life.  A  number  of  compositions  were  received, 
and  this  one  was  awarded  the  prize. 


HE  farmer  had  looked  with 
prophetic  eye  at  the  swaying 
golden  grain,  spreading  away 
in  endless  fields  to  left  and 
right.  For  days  he  has  been 
watching  it,  and  now  goes  off  to  bed  with 
his  mind  made  up  that  they  can't  get  that 
wheat  down  too  soon. 

Night  closes  in  slowly,  the  setting  sun 
spreads  a  rosy  glow  over  the  shimmering 
golden  fields  and  tinges  the  whole  sky 
with  pale  transparent  pink  and  blue;  fleecy 
white  clouds  float  over  the  great  fiery  ball 
and  soften  the  glare.  Then  it  sinks 
below  the  horizon,  drawing  with  it  its 
shafts  of  glowing  light  and  its  trailing 
streamers  of  bright  colour.  The  yellow- 
grain  looks  duller  as  though  bereft  of  its 
crown,  but  soon  the  moon  rises  and  there 
is  another  coronation,  tender  and  white 
and  pure,  symbolic  of  calmness  and  plenty 
and  love.  A  great,  calm  peace  settles 
overall  the  wide,  wide  prairie,  which  creeps 
into  your  soul,  and  here,  where  everything 
seems  in  harmony  with  God  and  Nature, 
you  can  bless  and  love  all  mankind,  and 
thank  the  Great  Creator  for  your  life  and 
your  wonderful  country. 

It  doesn't  seem  so  very  long  before  the 
great  red  sun  appears  above  the  eastern 
horizon.  He  has  a  soft  spot  in  his  warm 
red  heart  for  this  great  wheatland,  for  he 


rushes  back  to  it  and  by  long,  long  days 
of  light  and  warmth  fills  out  the  grain  and 
makes  the  plump  No.  i  hard  wheat  of 
Manitoba  famous  the  world  over.  Now 
brightly  he  sheds  his  rays  and,  flinging 
his  sunbeams  over  all  the  land,  mingles 
them  with  the  sunny  glancings  of  the 
waving  yellow  sea,  that  stretches  away, 
away  across  the  prairie. 

A  diamond  dewdrop  marks  each  fairy's- 
footprint  where  they  danced  in  the  moon- 
light over  the  nodding  grain.  This  shines 
and  ghstens  for  a  moment,  when  a  sunbeam 
kisses  it,  then  fades  from  sight.  The  birds 
begin  to  twitter  and  chirrup,  a  rooster 
crows.  In  the  bam  the  horses  stir  around 
in  their  stalls.  The  flowers  hft  their 
faces  to  the  sun  and  the  trees  nod  and 
smile,  sleeping  Nature  is  awakened,  and 
then  "in  less  than  a  jiffy"  the  whole  house 
and  yard  is  stirring.  The  doors  are 
thrown  open  and  men  are  soon  busy 
watering  and  feeding  the  stock.  In  the 
kitchen  there  is  the  hum  and  crackle  of 
boiling  and  frying,  the  sw'ish  of  skirts  and 
the  clatter  of  dishes. 

Talk  about  the  western  farmer  and  his 
importance;  if  it  were  not  for  the  western 
farmer's  stirring  wife  and  clever,  hustling 
daughters  affairs  would  not  run  as  smooth- 
ly nor  as  w-ell. 

But  vers- soon  breakfast  is  on  the  table — 


68 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


a  great,  long,  wide  table  it  is — with  large, 
steaming  dishes  of  porridge  and  potatoes, 
and  meat,  and  maybe  plates  of  hot  buns 
or  biscuits  on  it. 

The  men  come  in,  and  amidst  their 
talk  and  banter  wash  themselves,  with  a 
great  deal  of  splashing,  in  the  basins  on  the 
back  porch.  There  are  ten  in  all;  all,  very 
nearly,  sturd}-  sons  of  toil.  Here  is  a 
young  EngHshman,  just  out,  feeling  very 
big  and  very  superior  because  he  has  got 
such  a  good  job  in  so  short  a  time.  He 
shrank  from  sleeping  in  the  horse  stable, 
but  he  was  "simply  dying"  to  be  "west- 
ern," and  if  it  were  "western"  to  sleep  on 
the  windmill,  he  would  have  done  it  in  his 
present  mood.  He  was  very  "cocky" 
just  then,  and  was  spouting  his  views  on 
farming,  harvesting  and  everything  in 
general  that  he  didn't  know  much  about. 
Old  German  John  eyed  him  with  amuse- 
ment and  disdain,  just  as  an  old  wise  dog 
would  watch  the  foolish  performances  of 
a  very  young  puppy.  So  when  the  Eng- 
lishman had  for  the  tenth  time  that  morn- 
ing said:  "Naow  in  the  old  country  they, 
etc.,"  he  turned  with  a  grunt  and  went 
into  the  house.  Soon  they  all  followed, 
two  young  Ontario  farmers,  three  Galic- 
ians,  a  sandy  Scotchman,  an  Irishman, 
and  the  farmer  and  his  son. 

With  a  clatter  of  heels  and  scraping  of 
chairs  they  seated  themselves  and  "fell 
to"  with  a  vengeance.  All  was  still  for 
about  ten  minutes,  that  is,  voices  were, 
knives  and  forks  never  paused  for  an  in- 
stant. Toward  the  end  of  the  meal  the 
farmer  said:  "Well,  boys,  everything  in 
trim?" 

"Yes,"  they  answer  in  chorus. 

Then  the  Englishman  chimes  in  with : 

"Gad,  you  know  naow,  I  think  those 
horses  would  feel  the  heat.  In  London, 
don't  you  knaow,  they  have  caps  with  wet 
sponges  in  them,  ice  cold,  you  knaow." 

The  farmer  answers:  "Oh,  we've  no 
need  of  that  here!"  and  the  men  mutter 
in  chuckling  whispers :  "Yes,  you  knaow, 
you  can  have  the  job  of  keeping  the 
sponges  wet." 

"Needs  a  sponge  himself,"  says  another. 

"I  guess  he  will  be  puttin'  a  sponge  in 
his  own  hat,"  cheerfully  remarks  another. 

With  this  jolly  banter  they  stroll  out  to 
the  bam.     The  binders  stand  out  in  the 


yard.  Four  wonderful-looking  machines, 
needing  only  the  three-horse  teams  to  fit 
them  for  the  fray.  The  horses  are  driven 
out,  sleek  and  trim-looking,  and  they  start 
off  with  a  cHcking  and  a  clattering.  The 
German  leads,  then  the  farmer's  son,  then 
a  Galician,  then  the  Scotchman;  soon  a 
line  of  sheaves  is  lying  on  the  ground,  and 
the  stookers  quickly  follow  them  up  and 
leave  behind  them  the  thick,  neat-looking 
stooks. 

The  binders  clatter  on,  sheaves  in 
plenty.  The  straw  is  tall  and  strong,  the 
heads  are  heavy  and  nodding.  Click, 
clack,  clickety,  clickety,  clack.  The  bind- 
ers roll  on.  The  long  whips  crack,  the 
horses  switch  their  tails  but  never  slacken 
their  quick  walking  pace.  The  men 
follow,  hot  and  perspiring.  It  is  just  as 
easy  to  tell  the  new  men  from  the  old  by 
their  clothes  as  by  their  work,  for  each 
beginner  is  "togged  out"  in  bran  new 
overalls,  new  sateen  shirt,  new  cowhides, 
and  new  straw  hats.  The  old  hands  are 
dressed  in  a  miscellaneous  assortment  of 
half- worn-out  trousers,  patched  shirts  and 
disgracefully  dirty  and  torn  straw  hats, 
brown  faces  and  brown  arms. 

Round  and  round  go  the  noisy  binders, 
round  and  round  follow  the  men,  and  be- 
hind them  grows  row  after  row  of  golden 
stooks,  springing  from  the  field  of  golden 
stubble.  The  sun  shines  brightly  in  a 
deep  blue  sky,  and  when  an  occasional 
fleecy  white  cloud  floats  over  its  broad 
face,  a  wavering  inky  shadow  goes  over 
the  grain  that  is  still  standing.  A  fret- 
work of  shadows,  changing,  shifting, 
broadening,  narrowing,  plays  over  the 
stubble. 

"Begorra!  but  me  stomach  is  sure 
stuck  to  me  backbone,"  sighs  the  Irish- 
man, with  a  hungry  laugh.  The  men 
pause  for  an  instant  to  wipe  their  faces 
with  "astonishingly  red  handkerchiefs." 
When  the  dinner  bell  is  heard,  with 
thankful  sighs  they  turn  towards  the  house. 
The  horses  are  put  up  and  fed,  and  very 
soon  there  is  again  heard  a  great  splashing 
on  the  back  porch.  Inside,  boiling,  fry- 
ing, dishes  rattling  and  the  sound  of  hurry- 
ing, flurrying  footsteps. 

The  men  need  no  second  word,  but 
troop  in  and  with  as  few  words  as  possible 
are  soon  trying  to  get  rid  of  that  hungry 


A    WESTERxX   HARVEST 


ti9 


feeling.  This  healthy  workingman's 
hunger  quiets  even  the  Englishman  for  a 
longer  time  than  usual.  His  back  is  sore 
and  his  hands  are  blistered,  he  feels  no 
interest  in  the  "how"  or  the  ''why"  of 
farming  or  harvesting  methods.  The 
uppermost  thought  in  his  mind  is  how  to 
get  through  the  afternoon  without  being 
"knocked  up." 

Heaping  dishes  of  potatoes  and  a  huge 
round  of  beef,  pies,  rhubarb,  custard  and 
raspberries  disappear  as  if  by  magic. 
Glasses  are  replenished  with  milk,  plates 
are  refilled  with  bread  and  buns,  and  at 
last  with  a  sigh  of  relief  the  farmer's  wife 
sees  them  push  back  their  chairs  and  pre- 
pare to  go  out  again. 

All  through  the  meal  the  German  has 
been  casting  amused  and  satisfied  glances 
at  the  Englishman,  but  when  he  notices 
that  with  the  disappearance  of  the  beef 
and  potatoes  his  spirits  have  risen,  he  gets 
up  and  with  something  between  a  chuckle 
and  a  grunt  walks  out.  As  he  lights  his 
pipe  in  the  kitchen  he  slyly  remarks  to  the 
farmer's  wife:  "You  vant  to  have  your 
sweet  cream  and  your  liniment  ready  vor 
Meester  Algernon  Augustus  Theodore 
Sidney  Ronald  Egbert  Vesteman  when  he 
says  his  "Now  I  lay  me,'  for  he's  the  boy 
vat  vill  be  sore  this  night."  Then  he 
strolls  on  out  and  stretches  himself  in  the 
"bluff"  for  his  "noonin',"  while  the 
horses  feed.  The  other  men  come  out  in 
a  minute  or  two,  and  "reckon"  and  svu:- 
mise  as  to  how  much  grain  they  have 
knocked  down  since  morning.  Poor  Al- 
gernon Augustus  Theodore,  etc.,  lies  apart 
from  the  rest,  very  quiet,  very  sad.  But 
now,  with  a  long-dra^\^^  sigh  speaks. 
"Gad!  I  think,  by  the  feel  of  me,  that  I 
have  walked  fifty  miles  and  picked  up 
one  thousand  sheaves  of  wheat.  Wheat  I 
Wheat!  Oh,  how  I  wish  this  human 
race  had  never  taken  a  notion  to  bread!" 

"Oh!  buck  up,  old  man,  the  worust  is 
yet  to  come,"  cheerfully  remarks  the 
Irishman,   rising. 

Then  back  to  work,  the  fresh  horses  are 
put  on  the  binders,  and  they  start  off  in  the 
same  order.  By  now  the  binders  are 
away  ahead  of  the  stookers;  long  lines  of 
sheaves  lay  upon  the  ground,  emblems  of 
beauty  and  power  fallen  to  mere  useful- 


ness. The  men  work  on  steadily,  vigor- 
ously, and  gradually,  slowly,  gain  on  the 
binders. 

At  four  o'clock  they  go  in  and  again  the 
importance  of  the  farmer's  wife  is  demon- 
strated in  a  very  telling  and  beneficial 
way.  No  rest  is  taken  this  time,  all  hands 
rush  back  and  the  work  goes  on.  Stooks 
spring  up,  swiftly  followed  by  another 
and  another,  clouds  begin  to  gather  and 
all  hands  turn  in  to  put  up  the  sheaves  that 
are  already  upon  the  ground.  Thunder 
threatens,  and  they  work  swiftly.  The 
farmer  turns  in,  and  by  nine  they  have 
finished.  With  a  partially  calm  heart  the 
farmer,  followed  by  the  men,  walks  slowly 
into  the  house.  At  the  door  the  farmer 
turns  for  one  more  last  look  at  the  sky 
and  notices  that  the  clouds  are  clearing 
away  and  drifting  eastward.  So  with  a 
lighter  heart  he  eats  his  supper.  The  men 
were  too  tired  to  wash  well,  so  around  the 
generously  spread,  lamp-lit  table  there  are 
seated  many  grimy  faces.  The  English- 
man is  thoroughly  squelched,  and  eats 
in  silence.  When  the  meal  is  finished  they 
file  out  and  before  very  long  are  rolled  in 
their  blankets,  comfortably  snoring  and 
dreaming  of  a  country  where  the  sun  never 
sets,  and  they  cut  wheat  all  the  year  round. 
In  the  kitchen  the  prime  movers  work  on 
washing  dishes,  straightening  up  and  get- 
ting things  ready  for  morning. 

Ever}1:hing  stirs  out  doors  from  early 
morning  until  dark.  Everything  stirs 
indoors  from  dawn  until  long  after  the 
tired  men  are  sound  asleep,  and  when  the 
women  go  to  bed  'tis  very  often  quite  near 
to  the  next  day. 

Out  in  the  moonhght  the  fairies  are 
dancing  over  the  nodding  heads  of  grain; 
they  do  not  dream  that  very  soon  they  will 
come  to  dance  and  find  their  dancing  floor 
all  gone.  The  wind  rises  and  moans 
through  the  bluff  around  the  house,  moans 
in  sorrow  for  the  fairies,  moans  at  the 
downfall  of  the  proudly  swawg  golden 
grain.  Then  at  sight  of  a  bright  light 
dawning  in  the  east  the  little  elves  skip 
awav  and  hide  themselves. 

One  day  follows  another  very  much  the 
same  as  the  last,  only  each  day  brings 
them  nearer  the  end.  nearer  the  thresh- 
ing,  nearer    seeing    the   results   of  their 


70 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


labours.  The  farmer  looks  benign  and 
happy.  No  storm  has  come  to  beat  the 
heavy  heads  to  earth,  no  hail. 

The  last  day  comes  around.  There  is 
just  about  an  easy  day's  work  yet  to  do, 
but  what  great  black  clouds  roll  up  before 
the  sun!  The  thunder  grumbles  and 
growls,  then  rolls  across  the  sky  with  the 
noise  of  one  thousand  horsemen  crossing  a 
bridge.  Every  man  is  rushed  out.  The 
binders  go  round  and  round,  quickly  and 
steadily  leaving  sheaves  in  plenty  behind, 
separate  sheaves  for  only  a  minute,  soon  all 
in  stooks. 

As  the  first  great  drops  fall  the  men  turn 
from  the  fields  toward  the  distant  barn 
with  a  wave  and  a  shout.  "All's  well;  let 
her  come  now ! "  says  the  farmer.  Binders 
are  rushed  into  sheds,  horses  into  stables, 
the  men  are  drenched  and  dripping  when 
they  reach  a  place  of  shelter,  but  this  is 
soon  remedied  and  soon  all  are  dr}-. 

"Well,  sir,  that  little  spurt  just  saved 
me  about  one  hundred  and  eighty  dollars," 
says  the  farmer  with  a  satisfied  smile  on  his 
face.     "We  will  consider  it  a  day's  work." 

The  stooks  stood  for  a  couple  of  days, 
and  then  one  evening  at  dark  up  the  land 
comes  the  puffing  engine,  and  trailing  on 
behind  the  long,  flat-sides  red  separator 
and  the  water  tank  and  caboose.  The  en- 
gineer and  fireman,  black  and  greasy,  stop 
to  speak  to  the  farmer,  then  they  all  go  on 
out  to  the  clear  space  in  the  field  and  set 
up  the  machine. 

In  the  grey  dawn  of  the  next  morning 
the  black  figures  of  the  engineer  and  fire- 
man may  be  seen  busy  about  the  machine. 
As  soon  as  they  have  eaten  their  earl}- 
breakfast,  things  are  put  in  full  swing. 
Four  teams  draw  the  sheaves  to  the  ma- 
chine, one  man  feeds,  two  teams  haul  the 
grain  away  from  the  machine  to  the  gran- 
ary, three  or  four  men  are  on  the  stack  and 
four  or  five  in  the  field  loading. 

The  first  team  drives  up  with  its  load  of 
sheaves  to  satisfy  the  insatiable  hunger  of 
this  red  monster.     As  soon  as  the  first  is 


emptied  another  drives  up  and  round  and 
round  they  go,  never  pausing,  never  stop- 
ping until  the  shrill  steam  whistle  of  the 
engine  announces  dinner.  Black  and 
grimy  the  men  slip  down  from  the  stack. 
The  horses  are  unhitched,  the  steam  is 
turned  off,  the  straw  fire  banked  up,  and 
the  men  troop  to  the  house  where  the  long 
table  fairly  groans  with  its  weight  of  sub- 
stantial things  to  eat.  With  very  little 
ceremony  the  men  all  get  a  seat  and  then 
it's  every  man  for  himself.  The  farmer's 
wife  and  her  helpers  hurry  and  scurry  from 
kitchen  to  table  and  back,  never  pausing, 
never  resting. 

This  goes  on  for  a  week  or  maybe  two 
weeks.  In  the  house  nothing  but  baking, 
meals,  and  dishes;  meals,  dishes,  and 
baking.  Outside,  hauling,  threshing,  fir- 
ing, drawing  water,  feeding  engine  and 
separator,  and  drawing  grain  away.  The 
yield  is  averaging  twenty-eight  bushels  to 
the  acre,  and  that  is  a  fair  paying  yield. 

The  children  revel  in  the  sport;  they 
examine  the  engine  in  the  noon  hour,  they 
sHde  in  the  straw  and  romp,  they  ride  in 
the  waggons  and  on  the  tank,  they  get 
their  eyes  full  of  dirt,  and  through  it  all 
chew  wheat. 

It  is  evening  again,  the  pale  )eUow 
harvest  moon  shines  again  in  the  same  old 
way,  on  the  same  old  field,  but  what  a 
difference !  The  great  monster  that  has 
caused  this  devastation  looms  black  in  the 
night,  and  far  to  the  right  of  it  and  far  to 
the  left  stretches  the  fields  clearer  than  the 
virgin  prairie.  No  wheat  swaying  and 
nodding  in  the  pale,  shimmering  light,  no 
sheaf,  no  stook,  just  clear  distance  of 
yellow,  glittering  stubble. 

From  the  sombre  shadows  of  the  straw 
stack  a  weird  chanting  song  floats  out  on 
the  still  grey  night.  The  Galicians  are 
chanting  their  evening  hymn.  The  song 
rises  and  falls  and  drifts  away  into  the 
darkness,  weird  and  fascinating;  a  cloud 
drifts  over  the  moon,  and  all  is  still. 


Some  Sidelights  on  the  Life  and 
Character  of  Benjamin  Franklin 


By  REV.  R.  F.  DIXON 


y  has  always  been  my  con- 
viction that  Frankhn,  though 
probably  all  round  the  ablest 
man  born  on  this  continent, 
and  next  to  George  Wash- 
ington, undoubtedly  the  most  influential 
actor  in  the  American  Revolution,  v^^as 
not  a  man  of  a  high  type  of  character. 
He  was  strong-minded,  but  not  high- 
minded.  There  was  an  ineradicable  vein 
of  trickery  in  him,  which  was  continually 
cropping  out.  George  Washington,  on 
the  other  hand,  though  nothing  wonder- 
ful in  the  matter  of  ability,  and  in  mere 
cleverness  outclassed  by  at  least  half  a 
dozen  of  his  associates,  including  his  rival, 
the  so-called  "traitor"  Arnold,  was  al- 
ways, everywhere,  and  with  all  men,  em- 
phatically a  high-minded  man.  With- 
out the  moral  force  of  Washington's  char- 
acter behind  it,  the  Revolution  could 
hardly  have  been  accomplished.  It  was 
only  Washington's  personality  which  pre- 
vented the  innumerable  dissensions  that 
raged  among  the  Republicans  from  com- 
ing to  a  head,  and  producing  a  fatal 
cleavage.  x\mid  all  the  plotting  and 
counter-plotting,  the  mean  and  under- 
hand caballing,  and  sordid  scheming  that 
went  on  among  the  "patriots,"  he  alone 
remained  unsullied,  trusted,  and  trusty. 
Everyone  was  so  firmly  convinced  of  his 
absolute  integrity  and  nobility  of  char- 
acter, that  faction  was  silenced  in  his 
presence.  He  became  a  rallying  point 
for  every  section.  He  held  things  to- 
gether, which,  thanks  to  the  imbecility 
of  the  British  generals  who  could  not 
profit  by  their  repeated  victories  or  the 
mistakes  of  the  enemy,  was  all  that  was 
needed.  His  character  was  the  key- 
stone of  the  arch,  whose  displacement 
would  have  reduced  the  whole  edifice  to 
a  heap  of  ruins. 

There  is  no  finer  instance  in  history 
of  the  superiority  of  character  over  mere 
cleverness,  than  the  final  triumph  of  the 
American   Revolution,   or  a   more   strik- 

71 


ing  illustration  of  the  saying,  that  men 
are  great  rather  Ijy  what  they  are  than 
by  what  they  do. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  cannot  divest 
myself  of  the  conviction  that  FrankHn, 
with  all  his  wonderful  force  and  genius, 
was  morally  of  the  earth,  earthy.  He 
was  undoubtedly  capable  of  rising  at 
times  to  a  certain  height  of  public- spirit- 
edness;  he  was  a  man  of  immense  moral 
courage;  he  was  not  lacking  in  benevo- 
lent instincts;  he  could  stand  by  a  friend; 
but,  I  repeat,  he  was  not  a  high-minded 
man,  and  morally  unworthy  of  being 
mentioned  in  the  same  breath  with  George 
Washington,  who  is  the  only  heroic  figure 
in  the  American  Revolution.  Franklin's 
private  morals,  again,  at  all  events  in 
his  young  days,  were  somewhat  disrepu- 
table, and  probably  never  entirely  above 
suspicion.  And  then  while  Washington 
was  always  and  everywhere  the  gentle- 
man in  every  fibre,  Franklin,  with  all  his 
wnde  experience  of  courts  and  celebrities, 
never  was  and  never  could  be. 

These  impressions  have  been  recently 
intensified  on  my  own  part  by  the  perusal 
of  a  long-forgotten  work,  entitled  "  Bouch- 
er's View^  of  the  American  Revolution," 
pubHshed  in  1797,  consisting  of  thirteen 
sermons  preached  by  Rev.  Jonathan 
Boucher,  an  Ante-Revolutionar}^  Vir- 
ginian rector,  on  public  questions  cov- 
ering a  period  of  about  fifteen  years 
(1760-75). 

Boucher,  who  was  a  native  of  the 
county  of  Cumberland,  Eng.,  came  to 
Virginia  about  the  middle  of  the  century 
to  engage  in  teaching.  For  some  years, 
he  was  tutor  to  George  Washington's 
step- children,  and  became  his  warm  and 
intimate  personal  friend.  He  took  a 
very  prominent  part  in  the  controversy 
which  preceded  the  actual  rupture  be- 
tween the  colonies  and  the  mother  country, 
and  though  a  fearless  and  outspoken  op- 
ponent, was  broad-minded  and  honest 
enough  to  perceive  and  censure  the  mis- 


72 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


takes  of  the  Home  authorities.  He  is 
said  to  have  officiated  for  months  with 
loaded  pistols  on  his  desk,  and  to  have 
prayed  on  one  occasion  for  King  George 
vmder  the  loaded  muskets  of  the  rebels 
at  the  risk  of  his  Ufe.  In  1775,  his  church 
at  Queen  Anne's,  in  Prince  George  county, 
was  forcibly  closed,  and  he  returned  to 
England,  where  he  was  subsequently 
appointed  vicar  of  Epsom.  He  died 
there  in  1807. 

The  sermons  are  prefaced  by  certain 
general  reflections  on  the  causes  of  the 
American  Revolution,  and  are  dedicated 
in  very  cordial  terms  to  "George  Wash- 
ington, Esquire,  of  Mount  Vernon,  in 
the  county  of  Fairfax,  Virginia."  Though 
in  some  cases  disguised  in  BibUcal 
phraseology,  these  sermons  all  treat  of 
public  questions,  of  which  the  following 
examples  of  subjects  may  be  given:  "On 
the  Treaty  of  Peace  of  1763"  (the  first 
Treaty  of  Paris  and  the  cession  of  Can- 
ada), "On  the  strife  between  Abram 
and  Lot,"  "On  the  character  of  Ab- 
salom," "On  the  disputes  between  the 
Israehtes  and  the  two  tribes  and  a  half," 
"On  civil  Uberty,  passive  obedience,  and 
non-resistance."  These  sermons,  as  was 
characteristic  of  those  leisurely  times, 
are  prodigiously  lengthy,  and  must  have 
occupied  at  least  an  hour  and  a  half  in 
dehvery,  and  with  notes,  dedication, 
appendices,  and  preface,  form  a  goodly 
voliune,  each  sermon  in  length  being 
equal  to  a  modem  pamphlet.  They  are 
what  we  may  caU  "massive"  discourses 
and  display  great  learning,  a  wide  and 
close  acquaintance  with  the  classical 
writers,  a  profound  knowledge  of  the 
Holy  Scriptures,  as  well  as  a  keen  and 
intelligent  apprehension  of  the  public 
questions  of  the  day.  Although  the 
author  makes  no  attempt  to  disguise  his 
intense  disapproval  of  the  course  pursued 
by  the  malcontents,  the  tone  of  the  ser- 
mons is  remarkably  moderate,  for  those 
times,  at  all  events. 

The  allusions  to  Franklin  are  to  be 
foimd  in  the  notes  and  appendices,  and 
are  characterised  by  a  directness  and 
assurance  which,  in  a  writer  of  Boucher's 
manifest  honesty  and  fairmindedness, 
render  them,  to  say  the  least,  well  worthy 
of  a  very  respectful  hearing.     The  ap- 


pendix, by  the  way,  follows  the  sermons 
on  "Absalom  and  Ahitophel."  Boucher 
had  been  accused  of  fitting  the  charac- 
ter of  Ahitophel  (the  seducer  of  Ab- 
salom) on  Frankhn.  In  the  appendix, 
he  denies  any  special  intention  of  doing 
this,  but  adds  that  he  cannot  deny  a 
striking  resemblance  between  Ahitophel 
and  Franklin.  He  then  proceeds  to 
show  up  the  "Doctor,"  as  he  appears  to 
have  been  very  generally  called. 

That  he  was  an  unblushing  plagiarist 
is,  I  suppose,  very  generally  known.  I 
need  not  therefore  reproduce  the  cele- 
brated epitaph  named  by  himself  "The 
author's  epitaph  on  himself,"  which  was 
simply  a  translation  from  the  Gentle- 
man's Magazine  for  February,  1763, 
and,  which,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  now 
appears  on  his  tomb. 

Boucher  exposes  another  flagrant  in- 
stance of  the  same  failing  from  Frankhn's 
published  works  entitled  "A  Parable 
Against  Persecution,"  which  he  shows, 
by  parallel  quotations,  was  undoubtedly 
borrowed  from  a  sermon  of  Bishop  Jeremy 
Taylor. 

Of  his  political  career,  our  author 
speaks  with  even  greater  severity.  To 
quote  his  words: 

"In  the  affair  of  the  Stamp  Act,  the 
duplicity  of  his  character  became  still 
more  manifest.  There  is  as  good  evi- 
dence as  such  a  case  will  admit  of,  that 
the  idea  of  raising  a  revenue  by  means 
of  a  stamp  duty  originated  with  him. 
He  certainly  spoke  of  such  an  Act,  as 
likely  to  take  place,  long  before  it  did 
take  place.  With  the  promoters  of  the 
Stamp  Act  he  had  interest  enough  to 
procure  the  nomination  of  two  of  the 
stamp  masters,  notwithstanding  that  in 
.\merica  he  opposed  the  Act  with  all 
his  might." 

After  an  allusion  to  his  little  affair 
with  the  Post  Office  Department,  and 
his  severe  cross-examination  by  Wed- 
derbum,  which  doubtless  is  an  old  story 
to  nine-tenths  of  our  readers,  Boucher 
continues: 

"In  this  Irritated  and  vindictive  state 
of  mind,  he  left  England  and  returned 
to  America.  It  was  said  at  the  time 
that  the  moment  that  he  set  his  foot  on 
shore,    he    drew    his    sword.     This    was 


THOUGHTLESSNESS 


73 


done  to  show  the  people  in  what  temper 
he  returned  to  them.  But  in  their  re- 
ception of  him  there  was  no  appearance 
of  that  ardour  of  affection  which  they 
afterwards  ofl&ciously  displayed.  This 
coolness  was  attributed  to  their  then  sus- 
pecting that  he  could  be  true  to  no  cause, 
and  that,  therefore,  if  he  joined  the  ad- 
vocates for  hostilities,  it  would  probably 
be  with  a  view  of  betraying  them.  He 
was  much  afifected  by  these  suspicions, 
and  for  some  time  hesitated  to  which 
party  he  should  attach  himself.  For 
many  days  this  point  was  warmly  de- 
bated between  him  and  two  near  and 
dear  friends,  who  are  still  living,  and 
who,  it  is  hoped,  will  leave  behind  them, 
if  it  should  still  be  thought  right  to  for- 
bear publishing  in  their  Hfetime,  some 
account  of  this  and  other  interest- 
ing transactions.  Resentment  prevailed; 
every  other  argument  was  parried.  It 
was  some  time  before  he  gained  the  en- 
tire confidence  of  his  countrymen 

There  was  a  littleness  or  meanness  of 
mind  in  his  paltry  sneer  when,  on  the 
dismemberment  of  the  Empire,  he  ob- 
served that  the  world  had  now  a  prac- 
tical demonstration  of  the  way  in  which 
a  great  empire  could  be  reduced  to  a 
small  one.  ...  Of  the  same  case  was 
his  making  a  point  of  signing  the  pre- 
liminaries of  peace  in  the  same  coat 
which  he  wore  when  he  was  affronted  at 
the  bar  of  the  Privy  Council." 

Of  his  electrical  researches  and  in- 
ventions, Boucher  speaks  in  another 
part  of  this  appendix:  "Franklin's  ene- 


mies, however  bitter,  have  seldom  been 
found  so  wanting  in  truth  and  justice  as 
to  deny  him  great  merit  in  his  philo- 
sophical character.  It  was  in  Philadel- 
phia chiefly,  if  not  wholly,  that  he  was 
charged  with  having  stolen  from  an  Irish 
gentleman  of  the  name  of  Kinnersley 
many  of  his  useful  discoveries  respecting 
electricity." 

The  truth  of  the  matter  is  that  Frank- 
lin is  one  of  those  men  who  have  been 
canonised  by  success.  He  took  a  very 
prominent  part,  Boucher  thinks  the  most 
prominent  part,  in  the  estabhshment  of 
the  United  States,  which  has  turned  out 
to  be  such  a  gigantic  affair  that  posterity 
has  lost  the  true  perspective.  The  act- 
ors in  what  has  eventually  proved  to  be 
one  of  the  greatest  of  all  historical  dramas, 
have  therefore  assumed  proportions,  and 
have  been  invested  with  qualities,  if  not 
mythical,  at  all  events,  hugely  exagger- 
ated. Franklin,  as  one  of  the  chief 
founders  of  a  nation  that  promises  to 
become  one  of  the  greatest  in  the  his- 
tory of  mankind,  shines  with  a  bor- 
rowed lustre.  He  has  "grown  with 
the  country." 

Ready  as  I  am  to  admit  his  remark- 
able ability,  and  his  many  minor  good 
quaUties,  benevolence,  zeal  for  educa- 
tion, a  certain  public-spiritedness,  a 
strong  sense  of  humour,  he  is  not  the  stuff 
that  real  heroes  are  made  of,  and  along- 
side the  figure  of  George  Washington, 
towering  in  lonely  grandeur,  he  makes 
a  poor  appearance. 


Thoughtlessness 

BY  DONALD   A.    PR.\SER 

ONE  strained  to  reach  a  shining  height, 
But  perished  e'er  he  could  attain; 
Another  o'er  his  levelled  corse 

Stretched  out  his  hand;  but  stretched  in  vain. 

On,  on  they  thronged  to  gain  the  goal; 

One  fails;  another  follows  fast; 
His  clay  but  swells  the  pile  that  brings 

The  next  still  nearer  than  the  last. 

Now  one  arrives,  who  mounts  the  heap 
And  with  a  bound  the  height  is  w^on; 

Then,  thoughtless,  proud,  erect,  he  cries: 
"O  World,  behold  what./  have  done!" 


^pHE  readers  of  "Harper's  Weekly" 
A  do  not  often  find  in  that  stimulating 
journal  a  more  candid  and  refreshing 
article  than  the  discussion,  "Shall  We 
Meddle  With  Cuba?"  by  Rupert  Hughes. 
He  brings  the  great  American  Republic 
to  time  in  a  fashion  that  may  take  Uncle 
Sam's  breath  away,  for  that  worthy  is 
so  accustomed  to  Fourth-of-July  orator}- 
that  it  is  difficult  for  him  to  realise  that 
there  ever  was  a  time  when  the  American 
colonies  or  people  were  little  and  un- 
known. 

Of  the  indifference  of  the  United 
States  to  the  infant  efforts  of  new  repub- 
lics, Mr.  Hughes  says:  "About  the  most 
unbeautiful  thing  in  the  general  frame 
of  American  opinion  is  its  contempt  for 
small  republics  struggling  with  internal 
troubles.  When  the  French  people  threw 
off  monarchy  in  their  Revolution,  they 
offered  their  aid  to  any  other  people  of 
the  same  ambition.  The  first  thing  our 
infant  nation  did  was  to  refuse  aid  to 
the  French  Republic.  It  was  prudent, 
but  it  was  not  pretty. 

"On  every  possible  occasion  citizens 
of  the  United  States  talk  gravely  of  the 
necessity  of  our  intervening  to  save  Cuba 
from  internal  dissension,  as  if  we  had 
never  been  small,  and  as  if  we  Anglo- 
Saxons  had  never  known  what  internal 
dissension  and  insurrection  meant.  It 
has  a  certain  similarity  to  our  pharisaic 
attitude  towards  Russia;  we  caricature 
her  alleged  fondness  for  assassination, 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that,  in  the  last  half- 
century,  we  have  had  three  Presidents 
assassinated,  while  they  have  so  lost 
but  one  Czar." 


Mr.  Hughes  proceeds  to  remind  his 
fellow-countrymen  of  the  similarities  in 
the  histories  of  the  two  countries,  which 
are  "eloquently  numerous."  Canadians 
■who  know  what  their  U.  E.  Loyalist  fore- 
fathers suffered  will  be  delighted  to  find 
74 


an  American  writer  making  such  frank 
admissions  as  these:  "When  the  thirteen 
colonies  revolted,  they  contained  only 
three  million  souls,  of  whom  fully  one- 
third,  and  those  chiefly  of  the  upper 
classes,  were  opposed  to  independence, 
and  gave  support  and  comfort  to  the 
home  government,  for  which  they  en- 
dured from  their  more  patriotic  neigh- 
bours much  hanging  and  maltreatment 
during  the  war,  and  wholesale  confisca- 
tion and  exile  afterward.  Read  Jones's 
History  of  New  York  on  the  sufferings 
of  the  loyalists  and  it  will  open  certain 
eyes. 

"Cuba's  war  for  independence  would 
probably  have  failed  without  the  inter- 
vention of  the  United  States.  But  so 
our  Revolution,  which  lasted  seven  years, 
would  certainly  have  failed  without  the 
aid  of  France.  Think  of  Yorktown  with 
the  French  fleet  away!  Think  of  the 
absolute  salvation  that  the  French  money 
rendered  our  pitiful  treasury,  and  the 
refuge  French  ports  gave  to  our  priva- 
teers, like  Paul  Jones!" 

X3 

The  writer  rebukes  the  Americans  for 
their  ridicule  of  the  Cuban  army  be- 
cause of  its  smallness,  its  raggedness, 
its  extreme  mobility  amounting  to  timid- 
ity, and  shows  an  inconvenient  memory 
for  his  countr}''s  exhibition  of  the  same 
defects. 

"When,  on  Christmas  eve,  Washing- 
ton surprised  the  Hessians  at  Trenton, 
his  barefoot  soldiers  left  bloody  foot- 
prints on  the  snow,  as  later  at  Valley 
Forge.  Yet  our  satirists  used  to  laugh 
at  the  Cuban  armies  barefooted  in  the 
tropics. 

"The  morale  of  the  army  was  often 
as  bad  as  that  of  the  Cubans  at  its  worst. 
Burgoyne  drove  the  Americans  back  at 
all  points  till  he  finally  got  too  far  from 
his  base  and  allowed  himself  to  be  sur- 
rounded.    He    surrendered    5,000    men, 


CURRENT    EVENTS   ABROAD 


75 


but  the  army  that 
captured  him  num- 
bered 18,000  men. 
At  Camden,  under 
the  command  of  the 
same  General  Gates, 
our  troops,  far  out- 
numbering the  Brit- 
ish, were  routed 
shamefully  at  the 
first  volle\-  and  ran 
till  they  dropped  of 
exhaustion. 

"Yet  somehow 
they  managed  to 
'rub  through'  till 
Fjigland's  other  in- 
terests forced  her  to 
give  up.  Then  did 
peace  settle  down  ? 
Not  to  any  notice- 
able extent.  There 
were  the  Tories  to 
pay  up.  At  least  30,- 
000  were  forced  into 
Canada.  Then  came 
the  struggle  with  in- 
ternal afifairs;  there 
were  five  }'ears  of 
a  chaos  which  John 
Fiske  called  "the 
most  critical  period  in 
all  the  history  of  the 
American  people.'  .  . 
Europe  looked  on 
in  contempt,  and 
prophesied  doom  far 
more  positi\ely  than  it  is  now  prophesied 
of  Cuba." 


Assuredly  the  writer  of  this  article 
multiplies  instances  to  convince  the  peo- 
ple of  the  United  States  that  they  should 
not  feel  ultra-critical  of  Cuba's  comic- 
opera  government.  A  Canadian  who 
has  read  the  accounts  given  by  Ameri- 
can school  histories  of  the  War  of 
181 2  can  recall  his  irritation  by  the  said 
historian's  failure  to  chronicle  the  small 
affair  at  Queenston  Heights  and  other 
events  in  which  the  American  forces 
were  not  brilliantly  successful.  But  Mr. 
Hughes    makes    handsome    amends    in 


TWISTING   THE  LION'S  TONGUE. 

F.\THER  Time  (closely  examining  small  incision  in  tree-trunk) : 
"Who's  been  trying  to  cut  this  tree  down?" 

"Teddy"  Roosevelt  (in  mantier  of  young  George  Washington): 
"Father!    I  kannot  tel  a  H.    I  did  it  with  my  Utl  ax." 

F.\THER  Jime:     "Ah  welll    Boys  will  be  boys!" — Punch. 


this  manly  style:  'I  remember  being 
taught  in  school  that  we  won  the  War 
of  181 2  gloriously.  I  remember  my  dis- 
may on  finding  the  true  details;  there 
was  a  land  campaign  in  which  cowardice 
vied  with  inelficienc}'  in  attaining  the 
sublime,  in  which  our  capital  was  cap- 
tured by  the  British,  and  in  which  the 
onlv  respectable  victory,  that  at  New 
Orleans,  was  won  after  a  treaty  in  which 
we  dared  not  insist  on  he  very  subject 
for  which  we  went  to  war.  The  naval 
history  is  brighter  in  splendid  duels,  but 
we  are  apt  to  forget  that  in  September, 
1 8 14,  we  had  not  a  single  vessel  on  the 
sea — every  one  being  captured,  sunk  or 
blockaded  in  port."    The  Canadian  reader 


76 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


AUSTRALIA  AND  THE  FLESHPOTS. 

"You  ask  that  I  shall  show  no  preference  to  my  own  flesh  and 
blood!     Mv  nature  is  somewhat  different." — Britannia. 


may  question  Mr.  Hughes's  remarks 
about  the  "indignities  sufifered  from 
British  ships"  and  the  propriety  of  the 
description  "shamefully  delayed"  war. 
England  was  in  the  last  grapple  with 
Napoleon  and  the  Orders-in-Council, 
so  obnoxious  to  the  Americans,  had  been 
repealed. 


It  is  with  some  searching  of  heart  that 
we  read  such  a  paragraph  as  this:  "One 
even  hears  fellow-citizens  talking  about 
graft  in  Cuba's  poHtics,  about  the  self- 
seeking  of  certain  of  her  statesmen, 
about  the  bitterne.ss    of  her  party  rival- 


ries. It  is  hardly 
worth  while  to  men- 
tion our  own  repu- 
tation in  this  respect. 
Our  poHtics  has  al- 
ways been  a  source 
of  shame  to  ourselves 
and  a  consolation  to 
foreign  monarchies. 
There  never  has  been 
a  time  when  our 
political  life  has  not 
given  off  a  bad  smell; 
and  a  foreign 
Diogenes  would  be- 
grudge us  even  a 
swing  of  his  lantern." 
The  citizen  of  our 
own  Dominion  is  not 
in  a  position  at 
present  to  assume  an 
"I  -  am  -  hoHer  -  than  - 
thou"  expression, 
and  invite  Diogenes 
to  a  place  as  a 
Commissioner.  Mr. 
Hughes,  however, 
makes  it  abundantly 
evident  that  Uncle 
Sam  is  not  needed 
as  a  political  puri- 
fier in  Cuba.  The 
conclusion  of  the 
whole  matter  is  in  a 
tone  of  sincere  and 
searching  patriotism. 
"Now,  let  all  that  I 
have  written  be 
understood  as  it  is 
meant.  It  comes  from  a  patriot  who  would 
rather  be  a  citizen  of  the  United  States  to- 
day than  of  any  other  nation  in  history,  and 
who  is  keenly  alive  to  the  marvels  of 
ancestral  and  contemporary  achieve- 
ments. I  have  purposely  selected  only 
the  bad  in  our  annals,  because  the  med- 
dlers with  Cuba  select  only  the  bad  in 
her  history.  She  also  has  had  ideals, 
has  had  mart}Ts,  has  mustered  her  armies 
and  endured  poverty,  exile,  shame,  de- 
feat, and  the  problems  that  follow  vic- 
tory. She  has  her  noble  men  to-day  as 
we  have  ours.  If  she  has  also  evil  men 
and  serious  dilemmas,  so  have  we  had 
them — ^in     full     measure.     As    we    have 


CURRENT  KVKN  IS  AHKOAl) 


77 


resented  and  do  resent  outside 
interference  or  even  advice, 
let  us  not  force  them  on 
others.  There  are  enough 
blotches  on  our  escutcheon 
without  adding  the  names  of 
busybody,  hvpocrile,  and 
buUy." 

When  one  considers  how 
the  dear  pubhc  exults  in  read- 
ing about  "how  great  we 
are,"  and  resents  anything  in 
the  form  of  discriminating 
judgment,  the  words  of  Mr. 
Hughes  must  be  regarded 
as  those  of  a  brave  man,  who 
has  the  courage  of  his 
criticisms.        -^ 

The     Australian  j^  Govern- 
ment,   having    negotiated    a 
preferential  arrangement  with  New  Zea- 
land,   has    given    a    preference    to    the 
Mother     Country    without    any    under- 
standing  as   to   favours  to  be   returned. 
There    is    a    generous    abandon   about 
this    policy    which    may    be    embarrass- 
ing to  the   Radical   friends  at   "home." 
An  Enghsh  authority  comments:   "Pos- 
sibly the  fact  that  the  great  self-govern- 
ing colonies  are  keen  to  enter  into  special 
fiscal    arrangements    among    themselves, 
whilst  Great  Britain  remains  out  in  the 
cold,  may  bring  even  the  benighted  Free 
Importer  in  time  to  understand  realities. 
Every  year  the  country  is  throwing  away 
commercial  chances  of  the  first  magni- 
tude by  its  rejection  of  Mr.   Chamber- 
lain's poHcy."     The  attitude  of  Canada 
and  Australia  towards  Great  Britain,  in 
the  matter  of  fiscal  arrangements,  is  not 
affected  by  party  questions  in  the  Mother 
Country.     The  seK-goveming  colonies  pay 
comparatively  little  heed  to  political  ups- 
and-downs  in  Great  Britain,  and  would 
offer  the  same  preference  to  a  Radical 
as  to  a  Tariff  Reformer.     A  speaker  in 
the  British  House  of  Commons  recently 
declared   that    foreign    policy    had    been 
removed  entirely  from  the  realm  of  party 
poUtics,    and   further,    that    the    Empire 
could  not   continue   unless   it   was   held 
together  by  some  bond,  and  there  were 
only    two — mutual    profit    and    mutual 
sacrifice. 


KING  EDWARD   AS  FAUST. 

Marguerite  (Germany)  :  "He  loves  me,  he  loves  me 
not,  he  loves  me.   .   . 

(From'the  garden  scene  in  "Faust."') 

— Kladderadatsch  of  Berlin. 


The  recent  celebration  by  Aberdeen 
University  of  its  fourth  centenary  has 
been  marked  by  interesting  and  unusual 
features.  That  large-hearted  Scottish- 
Canadian,  Lord  Strathcona  gave  .  a 
monster  banquet  to  the  poor  of  the  city, 
and  contributed  in  every  way  in  his 
power  to  the  success  of  what  proved  a 
notable  gathering.  King  Edward  and 
Queen  Alexandra  were  present  at  the 
opening  of  the  new  buildings  erected  by 
the  subscriptions  of  Aberdonians.  There 
were  representatives  from  the  educa- 
tional institutions  of  Canada,  Austra- 
lia, New  Zealand,  Malta,  India,  the  Unit- 
ed States,  France,  Germany,  and  other 
foreign  countries.  The  Scottish  Univer- 
sity has  always  been  an  institution  of 
strong  individual  qualities,  retaining,  like 
the  country,  a  certain  pride  in  its  aloof- 
ness. It  has  always  had  a  strong  hold 
on  the  people,  and  has  been  the  ambi- 
tion of  the  poor  boy  rather  than  the  rich. 
The  son  of  the  shepherd  and  the  son  of 
the  crofter  have  found  their  way,  by 
sternest  self-denial,  to  Edinburgh,  Glas- 
gow and  Aberdeen,  thereby  giving  Ian 
MacLaren  abundant  material  for  "A 
Lad  o'  Pairts."  There  must  have  been 
many  a  "Domsie"  in  that  gathering  at 
Aberdeen,  gazing  with  bashful  pride  at 
"laddies"  from  the  ends  of  the  Empire  who 
have  showTi  that  the  lessons  taught  in  the 
old  school-house  w-ere  not  learned  in  vain. 


\^T^AN 


sSPHtRL 


"W/ITH  magic  colour  the  forest  glows, 

"       Fit  for  a  pageant  fair; 
Gold  and  scarlet,  ruby  and  rose. 

Bright  as  a  bugle's  blare; 
Sky  and  river  and  woodland  shine, — 
But  chill  is  the  wind  that  sways  the  vine, 

And  the  frost  no  bloom  shall  spare. 

The  dark  days  come  and  the  bitter  chill 
Whispers  the  word,  "Good-night"; 

Winter  lurks  by  the  lonely  hill, 
^^'rapped  in  his  robe  of  white. 

Soon,  ah,  soon,  he  shall  banish  far 

Forest-beacon  and  blossom-star, — 
But  a  dream  defies  his  might! 

— Elizabeth  Roberts  MacDonald. 

rr 

IN  THE  WAXING  YEAR 

WHEN  we  read  the  poetry  of  Bliss 
Carman,  C.  G.  D.  Roberts,  Theo- 
dore Roberts  and  EhzaVjeth  Roberts  Mac- 
Donald,  it  is  easy  to  see  how  these  poets 
of  the  sea  province  have  felt  and  expressed 
the  beauty  of  autumn.  Victoria  and 
Vancouver  may  know  all  the  delicate  en- 
chantment of  an  English  .spring  in  the 
west,  but  for  Eastern  Canada,  the  months 
when  we  behold  what  Bliss  Carman  calls 
"the  .scarlet  of  the  year,"  are  those  which 
illumine  the  calendar.  Professor  Roberts 
makes  no  secret  of  his  preference  for  the 
glowing  season  when,  in  his  poem,  "To 
Winter,"  he  turns  from  ice-bound  lakes 
and  streams  to  long  for  ''the  Autumn's 
ripe  fulfilling."  In  the  dainty  book, 
"Dream  Verses,"  by  his  sister,  there  are 
many  lines  that  show  the  writer's  sym- 
pathy and  kinship  with  Nature;  but  those 
that  are  most  easily  remembered  tell  of  the 
year's  later  glories,  as  when  we  are  a.ssured  : 

"Something  that  the  frost  foretells. 
Something  that  the  woods  forebode, 
Waits  us  where  the  sumach  looms 
Rich  in  glories  and  in  glooms, 
Down  the  dreary  road." 

78 


COUNT  TOLSTOY  ON  '•  WOMAN'S 
MISSION" 

WHEN  Tolstoy  becomes  hysterical 
he  is  worse  than  any  Ladies' 
Seminary  in  an  attack  of  shrieking  or 
giggles.  Just  now  he  is  exercised  about 
what  is  called  the  woman's  movement, 
and  has  been  expressing  himself  direfuUy 
in  the  Fortnightly  Review  on  the  trouble- 
some subject.  Among  other  wise  re- 
marks we  find  the  following:  "Men  can- 
not accomplish  that  highest  and  best 
work  which  brings  them  nearest  to  God — 
the  work  of  love,  of  complete  self-surrender 
to  the  one  loved,  which  good  women  have 
done  so  well  and,  naturally,  are  doing, 
and  will  always  do.  Without  such  women 
life  on  earth  would  be  poor  indeed.  .  .  . 
There  would  not  be  those  thousands  and 
thousands  unknown,  and,  like  all  that 
is  unknown,  the  very  best  women,  con- 
solers of  drunken,  weak  and  dissolute 
men,  who  are  more  than  anyone  else 
in  need  of  the  consolations  of  love." 

The  feminine  reader  of  this  remarkable 
outburst  may  consider  that  to  be  the 
"consoler  of  drunken,  weak  and  dissolute 
men,"  is  to  play  a  part  that  is  neither 
dignified  nor  becoming.  To  be  an  ama- 
teurish gold  cure  is  not  satisfying  to  the 
average  maiden's  ambition.  There  really 
is  no  "woman's  question,"  in  the  sense 
of  considering  whether  the  feminine  por- 
tion of  humanity  is  sufficiently  devoted 
to  the  joys  of  home.  The  vast  majority 
of  women  will  always  prefer  domestic 
life  to  the  studio,  the  stage,  the  office  or 
the  dissecting-room.  But  let  the  min- 
ority go  on  its  way  in  search  of  a  "  career," 
and  wish  the  artist,  the  novelist,  the  nurse, 
or  the  actress,  the  best  of  luck.  Even  in 
these  active  days,  the  bride  still  receives 
the  most  sincere  attention  and  the  choicest 


WOMAN'S   SPHERE 


79 


of  our  roses.  There  is  no  danger  of 
Cupid  being  frozen  out  of  the  modern 
woman's  heart,  but,  thanks  to  the  ease 
with  which  the  girl  of  to-day  may  obtain 
equipment  for  her  chosen  calHng,  she  is 
not  forced,  as  our  grandmothers  some- 
times were,  into  becoming  the  "consoler 
of  drunken,  weak  and  dissolute  men," 
because,  forsooth,  they  were  not  allowed 
to  do  anything  so  unwomanly  as  support 
themselves.  This  is  a  more  sensible  and 
wideawake  age,  in  which  a  woman  has 
a  higher  ideal  of  the  manhood  which  she 
is  to  love  and  honour,  than  the  drunken 
and  dissolute  creature  whom  Tolstoy 
seems  to  consider  it  her  privilege  to 
console.  Ruskin  has  a  purer  conception 
of  modern  knighthood.  Horrible  thought  I 
Can  the  democratic  Count  have  written 
these  lamentations  under  vodka  inspira- 
tion ? 

An  English  reviewer  takes  him  to  task 
in  this  wise:  "What  nonsense  the  dear 
old  prophet  of  Yasnia  Poliana  sometimes 
talks!  As  if  allowing  women  liberty  to 
pursue  their  natural  bent,  untrammelled 
by  male  interdicts,  would  impair  their 
capacity  to  accomplish  the  work  of  love! 
If  the  power  of  woman  is  so  important, 
great  and  irreplaceable,  as  I  agree  it  is, 
why  deprive  any  department  of  human 
life  of  its  beneficent  influence?"  If  we 
are  to  take  the  heroines  of  Tolstoy  fiction 
as  the  novehst's  ideal  women,  he  is  to  be 
pitied  for  the  conception  he  has  formed 
of  feminine  qualities  and  capabilities. 

XJ 

AT  VICTORIA  FALLS 

/CANADIANS  are  so  familiar  with 
^^  the  wonders  *  of  Niagara  that  they 
are  apt  to  forget  there  are  cataracts  in 
other  parts  of  the  world.  In  The  Em- 
pire Review,  Gertrude  Page  has  written 
a  series  of  letters,  "Farm-Life  of  Rho- 
desia," of  which  the  concluding  number 
tells  of  a  visit  to  the  Victoria  Falls  on  the 
Zambesi.  It  is  interesting  to  compare 
this  description  with  the  surroundings  of 
our  own  great  falls:  "There  is  something 
splendid  about  the  spray  itself,  with  its 
exquisite  rainbows,  and  it  continually 
blows  to  one  side  or  another,  revealing 
marvellous  glimpses  at  unexpected  mo- 
ments.   Then  the  Rainy  Forest  is  so  beau- 


tiful at  this  time.  One  gets  wet  through 
and  through  without  oilskins  (which  are 
always  procurable  at  the  hotel  for  those 
who  can  be  bothered  with  them),  but 
the  forest  itself  amply  repays  any  wetting. 
The  ferns  and  foliage  are  exquisite,  and 
the  effect  of  baby  rainbows  among  the 
trees  and  playing  round  one's  feet,  is 
entliralling.  These  tiny  rainbov^-s,  or 
rainbows  in  assorted  sizes,  are  every- 
where— above  your  head,  round  your 
feet,  in  the  foreground  and  in  the  back- 
ground— and  they  are  perfect  in  sym- 
metry and  colour,  occasionally  forming 
complete  circles.  During  the  summer  the 
forest  is  gay  with  orchids  and  other 
flowers,  but  I  cannot  think  they  please 
quite  as  much  as  the  rainbows.  One  can 
see  orchids  growing  wild  in  many  dis- 
tricts, but  never,  at  any  time  or  place, 
have  I  seen  baby-rainbows  disporting 
themselves  among  trees  and  ferns."  So 
far  as  rainbows  go,  the  African  cataract 
seems  to  be  more  brilliantly  equipped 
than  Niagara.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that 
the  "eighth  wonder"  will  never  be  so 
despoiled  by  commercialists  and  monop- 
olists as  has  been  the  fate  of  the  great 
falls  of  this  continent. 

The  writer's  description  of  farm-Hfe 
in  Rhodesia  is  not  alluring,  and  as  one 
reads  of  poor  crops,  horse-sickness  and 
blackwater  fever,  one  thinks  with  grateful 
pride  of  our  wonderful  West  and  fertile 
Ontario,  and  cannot  be  anything  but 
sympathetic  when  Mrs.  Page  sighs: 
"Again  I  say,  poor  Rhodesia!  Wild 
beasts,  blights,  diseases,  unscrupulous 
financiers — what  has  she  not  persistently 
to  contend  against?"  In  Canada,  on  the 
contrary,  the  wild  animals  we  have  kno\Mi 
are  rapidly  disappearing,  blights  are  in- 
frequent, we  have  our  own  share  of  the 
"white  plague,"  while  concerning  un- 
scrupulous financiers,  of  course,  we  care 
to  make  few  comments  Rhodesia  is 
welcome  to  a  few  of  our  captains  of 
industry. 

But  it  is  curious  how  fond  we  become 
of  a  country  where  we  have  made  our 
very  own  home,  at  the  cost  of  toil  and 
suffering  The  writer  concludes:  "So 
good-bye,  Rhodesia — brave,  unlucky,  tor- 
mented little  country — ^I  shall  think  of 
vou  often  in  the  far  island  home — vearn- 


80 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


ing  at  any  rate,  I  haven't  a  doubt,  for 
some  of  your  glorious  sunshine,  and 
ready  enough  to  come  back,  as  all  the 
rest  are,  after  six  or  nine  months  of 
idling.  You  haven't  been  over-kind  to 
me — but  what  of  it  ?  I  wish  you  well — I 
almost  love  you — I  will  certainly,  if  oppor- 
tunity arises,  endeavour  to  be  your  cham- 
pion through  thick  and  thin." 

U 
PRINCESS   PATRICIA'S   BETROTHAL 

THE  announcement  that  Princess 
Patricia,  daughter  of  the  Duke  of 
Connaught,  is  to  become  the  wife  of 
Grand  Duke  Michael  Alexandrovitch, 
only  brother  of  Emperor  Nicholas,  has 
been  received  with  more  interest  than 
such  a  bit  of  royal  news  usually  creates. 
Aside  from  the  international  signiiicance 
of  such  an  alliance  Princess  Patricia  her- 
self is  much  more  interesting  than  most 
young  persons  of  her  rank.  She  is  de- 
cidedly pretty,  which  is  more  than  can 
be  said  for  her  sister,  the  wife  of  the 
heir  presumptive  to  the  Swedish  throne, 
or  for  her  cousin  Princess  Ena,  now 
Queen  Victoria  of  Spain.  In  addition 
to  her  charms  of  person,  she  has  a  bright- 
ness of  disposition  and  a  vivacity  of  man- 
ner that  have  made  her  generally  popular, 
especially  in  Ireland,  where  a  smile  and 
a  bon  mot  go  a  long  way.  Perhaps  the 
fairies  of  the  Land  of  the  Shamrock  have 
been  unusually  benevolent  to  this  English 
princess  with  the  Irish  name,  for  she  was 
bom  on  St.  Patrick's  Day,  1886,  and  is 
said  to  be  proud  of  the  nickname,  "Prin- 
cess Pat.'' 

But  to  be  the  wife  of  a  Russian  Grand 
Duke  is  not,  in  the  present  crisis,  an  en- 
viable lot.  The  poor  Uttle  Spanish  bride 
had  a  tragical  wedding-day,  but  her 
cousin  ■will  go  to  a  countr}^  over  which  the 
darkest  clouds  hover,  and  the  best  of 
good  wishes  that  England  can  give  will 
seem  but  a  mockery.  She  is  the  first 
cousin  of  the  Czarina,  who  is  a  daughter 
of  England's  beloved  Princess  Alice,  and 
her  presence  in  Russia  will  make  another 
strand  in  the  bond  that  certain  statesmen 
are  anxious  to  make  between  Russia  and 
England.  During  recent  years,  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Connaught  family  have  trav- 
elled somewhat  extensively  in  the  British 


Empire.  Last  year  Prince  Arthur,  Prin- 
cess Patricia's  only  brother,  made  a 
Canadian  tour,  and  there  is  a  rumour 
that  his  distinguished  father,  who  has 
been  here  more  than  once,  will  visit 
Canada  again  next  year. 

tr 

THE  SUFFRAGETTES 

ONCE  more  the  voice  of  the  suffragette 
is  heard  in  England,  for  the  erstwhile 
imprisoned  agitators  are  at  hberty,  and 
are  making  the  most  of  their  self-incurred 
mart}^Tdom  Those  who  beheve  firmly 
in  woman  exercising  the  franchise  are 
not  at  all  united  in  admiration  of  these 
strenuous  sisters.  No  good  is  done  to 
such  a  cause  by  performances  that  are 
of  the  fishwife  class,  and  that  place  the 
perpetrators  on  a  level  with  the  shrews 
of  the  poUce  court.  Woman  is  not  going 
to  secure  a  vote  by  using  fierce  epithets 
and  swinging  a  bludgeon.  The  truth  of 
the  matter  is,  that  not  many  women  are 
desirous  of  voting.  When  the  majority 
of  the  gentle  (occasionally)  sex  really 
wish  to  vote,  they  will  have  ballots  in  a 
very  short  time,  for  women  always  get 
what  they  sincerely  and  ardently  desire. 
Let  the  fighting  Englishwomen  endeavour 
to  influence  their  own  sex,  instead  of 
badgering  the  Right  Honourable  H.  H. 
Asquith,  and  ringing  his  doorbell  in  a 
perfectly  unladylike  way.  In  the  mean- 
time, an  English  exchange  informs  us 
that  a  society  has  been  formed  "to  keep 
women  in  their  proper  place."  This,  the 
chairman  explained,  was  the  home  circle. 
The  really  interesting  speculation,  as  the 
Westminster  Gazette  observes,  "is  to  con- 
sider what  the  v\ives  of  these  demonstrat- 
ors said  to  them  when  they  got  home." 

WHEN  MARY  ANN  DISAPPEARS 

THERE  is  one  way  of  dealing  with  the 
servant  problem — by  the  process  of 
eliminating  the  servant  and  "doing  the 
work  alone."  In  an  English  home  maga- 
zine, there  is  a  description  of  how  many 
American  women  of  refinement  and  social  j 
aspirations  manage  to  dispense  with  the  j 
services  of  cook  and  housemaid.  But  it 
is  admitted  that  these  servantless  Amer- 
ican   households    have    conveniences    of 


WOMAN'S  sphp^rp: 


81 


which  the  EngHshwuman  knows  very 
little.  Also,  the  prevalence  of  ''tinned 
food''  i.s  mentioned,  and  one  shivers  at 
the  thought  of  Chicago  pressed  chicken. 
But  the  writer  of  the  article  is  doubtful 
as  to  the  success  of  "being  your  own 
domestic"  in  England,  and  concludes 
with  the  reflection : 

''Whether  the  American  woman  who 
combines  the  duties  of  wife,  mother, 
nurse,  cook,  housemaid,  club-woman, 
washer-woman,  student  of  Greek,  musi- 
cian and  what-not,  becomes  thus  a  queen 
or  a  mere  drudge,  is  a  question  for  dispute. 
Personally,  I  am  incUned  to  the  opinion 
that  she  is  more  drudge  than  queen,  and 
not  by  any  means  to  be  envied  by  her 
English  cousins,  who  think  they  have 
a  servant  problem,  and  are  desirous  of 
knowing  how  the  American  woman  man- 
ages to  do  her  own  housework,  and  so 
rid  herself  of  the  annoyances  that  help  to 
make  miserable  the  English  life." 

The  servantless  households  are  prob- 
ably found  in  the  West,  where  the  de- 
mands of  social  life  are  not  complex. 
But  modem  women  seem  to  be  divided 
into  two  camps — ^those  who  have  too 
much  work,  and  those  for  whose  idle 
hands  the  "smart  set"  finds  some  mis- 
chief to  do.  The  wom-out  woman  and 
she  who  is  suffering  from  ennui  ahke  end 
in  the  rest  cure.  In  the  meanwhile,  most 
of  us  can  appreciate  the  feelings  of  the 
old  woman  who  had  borne  other  people's 
burdens  aU  her  hfe,  and  who  announced 
on  her  death-bed:  "Dear  friends,  I  am 
going  to  do  nothing  forever  and  ever." 

U 
WHERE  MAN  FALTERS 

A  REVIEWER  recently  said  that  a 
woman  writer  w-as  never  happy 
unless  she  represented  men  as  slapping 
each  other  on  the  back  and  addressing 
each  other  as  "old  chap."  There  is  a 
certain  hesitancy,  when  a  woman  novelist 
plunges  two  men  into  a  confidential  con- 
versation. But  the  weak  point  of  the 
man's  story  is  where  he  ventures  to  de- 
scribe the  heroine's  gown.  Reference 
has  been  made  before  to  Miss  Mvrtle 
Reed's  clever  article  on  the  subject,  and 
6 


driving! 

Miss  Mabel  Thomson  of  St.  John,  N.B..  winner 
of  Golf  Championship 


these    further    remarks    are    worthy    of 
notice : 

"In  'The  Story  of  Eva,'  Mr.  Payne  an- 
nounces that  Eva  climbed  out  of  a  cab  in 
'a  fawn-coloured  jacket'  conspicuous  by 
reason  of  its  newness,  and  a  hat  'with  an 
owl's  head  on  it.'  The  jacket  was  prob- 
ably a  coat  of  tan  covert  cloth  with  strapped 
seams,  but  it  is  the  startling  climax  which 
claims  attention. 

"An  owl?  Surely  not,  Mr.  Payne!  It 
may  have  been  a  parrot,  for  once  upon  a 
time,  before  the  Audubon  society  met  with 
widespread  recognition,  women  wore  such 
things,  and  at  afternoon  teas,  where  many 
fair  ones  were  gathered  together,  the  parrot 
garniture  was  not  without  significance.  But 
an  owl's  face,  with  its  staring,  glassy  eyes, 
is  too  much  like  a  pussy  cat's  to  be  appro- 
priate, and  one  could  not  wear  it  at  the 
back  without  conveying  an  impleasant  im- 
pression of  two-facedness,  if  the  coined 
word  be  permissible." 

Jean  Graham 


SOME  ytai>  ago,  I  was  instrumental 
in  having  inserted  in  The  Canadian 
Magazine  an  article  oh  Mr.  W.  R. 
Hearst,  proprietor  of  the  New  York 
Journal  and  other  papers,  millionaire 
and  politician.  In  that  article  it  was 
pointed  out  that  this  was  a  most  danger- 
ous man — dangerous  to  the  United  States 
and  dangerous  to  Canada.  He  was,  and 
is,  the  arch-advocate  in  favour  of  the 
annexation  of  this  country  to  the  Republic. 
Since  then,  Mr.  Hearst  has  been  a 
candidate  for  the  position  of  mayor  of 
New  York  City,  and  he  came  within  a 
few  votes  of  being  elected.  Now  he  is 
the  candidate  of  the  Democratic  party 
for  the  governorship  of  New  York  State. 
Should  he  succeed  he  will  be  an  opponent 
of  W.  J.  Br}an  for  the  Democratic 
nomination  for  President.  Here  is  a 
man  who  is  worth  watching. 

X3 

Mr.  Hearst's  power  rests  on  inherited 
millions,  on  the  ownership  of  several 
large  and  successful  newspapers,  on  ability 


to  surround  himself  with  strong  men, 
and  on  nerve.  His  ambition  knows  no 
moral  responsibihty  apparently,  and  he 
is  as  licentious  in  his  political  warfare  as 
he  has  been  in  his  private  hfe  and  in  his 
joumaHstic  career.  He  is  a  modem  buc- 
caneer, with  many  of  the  qualities  of  a 
popular  leader. 

In  a  speech  in  Brooklyn  the  other 
evening,  his  opponent,  Mr.  Charles  E. 
Hughes,  e.xclaimed:  "We  do  not  want 
government  by  headlines'."  The  phrase 
is  worthy  of  contemplation.  Mr.  Hearst's 
power  over  the  people  has  been  due  to 
his  quickness  in  recognising  that  the 
people  of  the  United  States  can  be  gov- 
erned by  headlines — they  are  to-day. 
With  the  majority,  argiunent  and  reason 
are  of  little  avail.  They  take  their  im- 
pressions from  the  big  type  at  the  top  of 
the  page.  Hearst  cares  not  who  makes 
the  arguments,  so  long  as  he  makes  the 
headlines.  y~ 

In  Canada,  government  by  headlines 
is   speedily  coming   in.     The  editorial  is 


THE    TORONTO    .AUTOMOBILE    CLUB   G.^THERS    THE   ORPH.\XS    OF    THE    CITY    FOR 
FUN — THE    RENDEZVOUS   IN   QUEEN'S   PARK 

82 


PEOPLE    AND   AFFAIRS 


83 


THE    CLUB    ARRIVES    AT    THE   EXHIBITION   GROUND 


receding  before  the  headline.  It  has  been 
well  exemplified  in  the  Insurance  investi- 
gation reports.  When  the  Canada  Life 
was  being  invested,  the  papers  friendly 
to  Senator  Cox  wrote  headlines  which 
indicated  how  well  he  came  through  the 
investigations;  those  which  were  unfriend- 
ly, took  the  opposite  course.  The  evi- 
dence was  practically  the  same.  So  when 
the  Foresters  were  being  investigated,  the 
headlines  were  mainly  for  Dr.  Oronhya- 
tekha,  and  a  very  favourable  impression 
was  created  throughout  the  country. 
When  it  came  to  the  Union  Trust  Co. 
and  Mr.  Foster,  the  newspapers  were 
less  unanimous.  The  Liberal  newspap- 
I  ers  showed  how  wicked  he  had  been ; 
I  while  the  Conservative  papers  were  more 
!  judicial.  The  headlines  were  quite  dif- 
I  ferent.  It  does  not  matter  for  the  sake  of 
;  this  argument  whether  or  not  these  gentle- 
|men  came  through  the  ordeal  with  or 
I  without  honours;  aU  that  I  am  pointing 
out  is  that  the  impression  created  in  the 
,mind  of  the  unprejudiced  observer  by  the 
evidence  may  or  may  not  have  been  re- 
iflected  in  the  headlines. 


Another  thing  pointed  out  by  Mr. 
Hughes,  Mr.  Hearst's  opponent  in  New 
York  State,  was  the  foolishness  of  the 
cry,  ''Down  with  the  Corporations."  All 
the  railways,  banks,  Hfe  insurance  busi- 
nesses, trust  companies  and  most  mer- 
cantile concerns,  are  controlled  by  cor- 
porations. The  most  significant  feature 
of  business  development  is  the  corpora- 
tion. To  aboKsh  it,  is  to  abolish  much 
of  private  enterprise  and  to  introduce 
general  state-ownership.  The  world  is 
not  prepared  for  that,  and  the  corporations 
must  stay. 

The  aim  of  the  genuine  reformer  is  not 
to  abolish  corporations,  but  to  curb  the 
abuse  of  their  privileges.  The  laws  under 
which  corporations  act  should  be  made  as 
strict  as  may  be  necessary  and  should  be 
properly  enforced.  If  a  director  of  an 
insurance  or  other  corporation  betrays 
his  trust,  let  him  be  punished.  There 
are  dozens  of  them  in  Canada  who  should 
be  punished — and  yet  will  likely  escape. 
It  is  an  enforcement  of  the  law^  regarding 
corporations,  not  abolition,  which  is  re- 
quired.    The   Attorney- General    of  JOn- 


84 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


DISTRIBUTIXG   SOUVENIRS    AFTER    THE   DAY  S  SPORT   WAS    OVER 


tario  is  seeking  to  punish  London  voters 
who  accepted  $io  each  for  their  votes; 
that  is  good.  Will  he  also  prosecute  the 
men  who,  being  directors  in  several  large 
companies,  used  their  positions  to  their 
private  prolits?  What  about  these  men 
who  have  become  unreasonably  wealthy 
through  the  control  of  the  funds  of 
insurance  companies  and  banks? 

It  is  the  director  who  requires  regulation 
and  discipline,  not  the  corporation.  The 
thinkers  should  insist  on  this  and  see  that 
demagogic  politicians  and  joumaUsts  do 
not  thnjw  dust  in  the  eyes  of  the  unin- 
formed public. 


graduated   tax   from 

two  to  six  per  cent. 

.    *   -  per  annum.     In  Ca- 

^11^  nada,  the  banks  may 

'  issue     notes     up    to 

the  amount  of  their 
paid-up,  unimpaired 
capital — not  merely 
35  per  cent,  of  it, 
as  is  asked  for  the 
national  banks.  They 
have  a  splendid  priv- 
ilege or  franchise,  and 
the  privilege  has 
national  advantages 
in  that  it  supplies  an 
abundant  and  elastic  currency.  There- 
fore, if  the  national  banks  of  the  United 
States  can  afford  to  pay  an  average  tax 
of  four  per  cent,  on  their  currency,  why 
should  not  the  Canadian  banks  do  the 
same  at  least,  since  their  privilege  or 
franchise  is  even  greater? 

This  suggestion  does  not  emanate  from 
socialists  or  demagogues,  or  even  from 
joumaHsts;  it  comes  from  experienced 
financiers  in  New  York.  In  Canada, 
banking  business  is  more  profitable  than 
in  the  United  States;  the  profit  averages 
from  lo  to  2o  per  cent,  per  annum.  In 
fact,  it  is  nearer  20  than   10. 


It  is  becoming  more  and  more  evident 
that  a  tax  on  the  bank-note  circulation 
would  be  a  good  tax.  That  is,  it  would 
be  a  tax  which  would  come  out  of  bank 
profits,  and  would  not  seriously  hamper 
any  business  or  any  set  of  investors. 
Bank  profits  are  large,  larger  than  in 
almost  any  other  line  of  business.  The 
right  to  issue  bank-notes  is  a  valuable 
franchise  which  grows  more  and  more 
profitable  as  the  country  expands.  It  is 
onl}'  fair  that  some  portion  of  the  profit 
which  comes  from  this  exclusive  franchise 
should  be  taken  for  the  purposes  of 
government. 

The  New  York  Chamber  of  Commerce 
Committee,  appointed  to  inquire  into  the 
condition  of  the  currency  in  the  United 
States,  have  recommended  that  the  na- 
tional banks  be  allowed  to  issue  notes 
equal  n  amount  to  35  per  cent,  of  its 
capital;   that  on   such  notes  there  be  a 


When  a  man  writes  a  cheque  for  $10, 
S25,  Sioo,  or  SijOoo,  and  hands  it  over 
to  a  charitable  organisation,  he  is  not 
necessarily  charitable.  He  may  be  in- 
fluenced by  a  desire  to  see  his  name  in 
print,  by  a  fear  that  he  may  be  considered 
stingy,  or  by  a  desire  to  show  that  he 
has  made  money.  When,  however,  the 
members  of  the  Toronto  Automobile  Club 
took  their  70  odd  machines,  visited  the 
orphan  institutions  of  the  city,  collected 
400  orphans,  drove  them  around  the  city 
and  out  to  High  Park,  gave  them  a 
luncheon,  conducted  a  series  of  races  for 
the  boys  and  girls,  and  finally  wound  up 
with  a  distribution  of  doUs  and  mouth- 
organs — there  was  a  genuine  charity.  It 
is  not  often  that  wealthy  business  men 
take  a  day  off  to  cheer  the  hearts  of  a 
few  orphans,  and  consequently  the  occa- 
sion is  the  more  noteworthy. 

John  A.  Cooper 


Abovt 

Rew 


WHEN   BADGER  "DOES"   A   POET 

IT  would  be  difficult  to  name  a  city  in 
North  America  possessed  of  more  stir- 
ring historic  associations  and  rarer  liter- 
ary traditions  than  the  ancient  and  hon- 
ourable town  of  Boston.  But  in  these 
later  days  Boston  has  become  more  cele- 
brated for  freak  religions  and  Hibernian 
politicians  than  for  the  culture  that  is 
more  excellent.  No  institution  is  more 
significant  of  the  modem  methods  of 
Boston  finance  than  that  known  as  the 
Gorham  Press,  of  which  Richard  G. 
Badger  is  the  presiding  genius.  The  pub- 
lication by  this  house  of  "The  Silver 
Trail,"  a  book  of  poems,  by  Evelyn 
Gunne,  a  Canadian  writer  of  some  repute, 
gives  occasion  for  certain  reflections  on 
the  ways  and  methods  of  Richard, 
whose  surname  is  Badger. 

The  gentle  art  of  "jollying"  is  brought 
to  that  flowering  perfection  which,  we 
are  proverbially  assured,  can  be  reached 
only  by  frequent  and  conscientious  prac- 
tice. Mr.  Badger  knows  that  the  heart 
of  the  poet  is  sensitive  above  all  things, 
and  desperately  eager  for  appreciation, 
not  to  speak  of  publication.  Thus,  when 
a  few  melodious  sonnets  and  gentle  lyrics 
have  appeared  in  magazines,  the  wily 
Badger  takes  the  opportunity  to  write  a 
sweetly  sympathetic  note  to  the  author 
thereof,  hinting  dreamily  of  possible  pub- 
lication. The  poetic  heart  straightway 
becomes  a-flutter  and  a  pile  of  poems 
takes  its  flight,  by  mail  or  express,  to  the 
Boston  pubhsher,  whose  classic  motto, 
by  the  way,  is  "Arti  et  Veritati,"  with 
emphasis  on  the  latter.  The  poet,  un- 
versed in  the  records  of  publishing  houses, 
sees  visions,  not  only  of  public  favour,  but 
of  golden  returns,  and  Hke  a  "good, 
easy  man,"  as  Wolsey  might  describe 
him,  thinks  "his  greatness  is  a-ripening," 
85 


signs  a  contract  and  sends  a  cheque  for 
more  than  a  hundred  dollars,  cheerfully 
assuring  the  ingenuous  Badger  that  a 
further  sum  of  equal  amount  to  the  first 
payment  will  be  forthcoming  on  that 
proud  and  magic  day  when  the  poems 
are  actually  pubhshed. 

Mr.  Badger  has  been  known  to  reduce 
his  price  and  offer  amazingly  moderate 
terms  to  the  aspiring  bard,  while  he 
blandly  informs  the  latter  that  this  is 
indeed  an  exceptional  reduction^n  fact, 
nothing  but  the  siu^passing  quality  of 
the  poems  and  the  fear  of  their  being 
lost  to  the  world  would  bring  him  to  such 
a  financial  sacrifice.  He  is  no  Shylock — 
three-quarters  of  a  pound  of  flesh  has 
been  known  to  send  him  away  satisfied. 
As  we  may  have  stated  ere  this  publi- 
cation, the  stationery,  type  and  paper 
of  the  Gorham  Press  are  irreproachable, 
and  the  recipient  of  these  immaculate 
letters  is  properly  impressed  by  the  good 
form  of  all  mechanical  devices.  Then 
the  books  are  so  small  and  dainty  that 
the  poet  merely  reflects  upon  the  "win- 
nowing" process,  and  does  not  entertain 
the  sordid  thought  that  a  slender  volume 
is  really  cheaper  in  production  than  one 
containing  four  hundred  fat  pages.  It 
would  be  interesting  to  know  just  what 
these  frail  books  cost  the  publisher  when 
issued  in  a  modest  edition  of  one  thousand. 
But  disappointment  of  the  poet  is  too 
sacred  a  theme  for  public  discussion,  and 
so  the  world  never  knows  how  many 
high  hopes  are  buried  wath  the  Badger 
books  that  have  such  lovely  clear  type, 
such  extremely  wide  margins  and  such 
dinky  little  illustrations.  The  pictures 
which  adorn  the  present  volume  are 
suggestive  to  the  initiated  reviewer.  They 
are  such  cunning  little  haff-tones — some 
of  them  an  inch-and-a-half  long,  and  a 
whole  inch  in  width.     We  are  not  com- 


86 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


W 


Mlsr.    MARV    CHOLMONDELEV 
Author  of  "Prisoners" 

meriting  at  present  on  their  artistic  merit, 
although  the  pretty  sketch  of  the  moon 
takes  our  fancy;  but  we  are  thinking  of 
how  admirably  Mr.  Badger  has  com- 
bined picturesque  effect  and  economy. 

If  a  writer  is  so  desirous  of  giving  his 
productions  to  a  world  which  is  singularly 
indifferent  to  the  poet,  that  he  is  willing 
to  expend  a  considerable  sum  on  the 
publication,  let  him  go  on  his  extravagant 
way  and  be  willing  to  take  it  out  in  local 
fame  or  the  soothing  consideration  that 
his  readers  are  tit,  if  few.  But  let  not 
the  "mute,  inglorious"  poet  believe  the 
beguiling  publisher  who  writes  of  con- 
tracts and  contributions.  Who  will  tell 
us  of  the  "royalties"  that  have  blessed 
the  credulous  bard,  and  have  made  him 
wTite  and  call  Badger  blessed?  These 
are  matters  with  which  the  public  has 
no  concern,  but  which  the  poet  should 
ponder  many  hours  before  he  comes 
do'^Ti  to  a  prose  reply  to  the  first  ap- 
proaches of  the  Boston  publisher. 

Mr.  Badger  makes  the  conventional 
request  that  in  any  notice  given  the  book 
his  name  will  be  mentioned  as  publisher, 
and  also  a  statement  be  made  as  to 
retail  price.  We  have  cheerfully  com- 
plied with  the  former  part  of  the  re- 
quest and  now  make  the  announcement 
that  these  poems  may  be  purchased  for 
the  sum  of  one  dollar  and  a  quarter. 


PRISONERS 

,'HILE  Aliss  Cholmondeley  had  her 
discriminating  admirers  before  the 
publication  of  "Red  Pottage,"  that  pow- 
erful story  may  be  regarded  as  her  first 
popular  success.  "Moth  and  Rust"  was 
somewhat  disappointing,  as  is  the  usual 
effect  of  a  novelist's  collection  of  short 
stories,  although  the  ghost  story  is  re- 
luctanth-  remembered  as  a  narrative  of 
surpassing  horror.  Her  latest  publica- 
tion, "Prisoners,"*  is  as  vivid  in  literary 
force  as  "Red  Pottage,"  and  is  more 
wholesome  in  tone.  It  is  essentially  a 
"study,"  and  the  characterisation  is 
almost  mercilessly  keen  and  unerring. 
Yet,  with  all  its  piercing  quality,  the 
book  does  not  belong  to  the  surgical 
school  of  fiction.  It  is  the  work  of  an 
artist,  not  of  a  vivisectionist. 

Those  who  can  remember  "Diana 
Tempest,"  one  of  Miss  Cholmondeley's 
earliest  works,  will  be  reminded  of  the 
"selfish  father"  of  that  novel  when  they 
become  acquainted  with  Colonel  Bel- 
lairs,  a  similar  character  in  "Prisoners." 
It  is  curious  to  remark  how  this  repulsive 
t^-pe  of  the  paternal  frequently  appears 
in  the  English  novel.  The  "hea\7 
father"  is  an  exotic  in  American  fiction 
and  is  regarded  as  of  foreign  extraction. 

This  novel  is  essentiall}^  a  tragedy, 
with  an  Italian  setting  for  the  initial 
crime,  that  brings  about  the  punishment 
of  an  innocent  man  through  a  woman's 
revolting  cowardice.  The  action  of  the 
novel  centres  about  the  redemption  of 
the  small-souled  woman  who  emerges  as 
a  fairly  honourable  character.  If  there 
be  a  chance  for  criticism  we  might  re- 
quest that  the  author,  in  creating  her 
characters,  should  put  a  little  more  good 
in  the  worst  of  them,  and  a  little  more' 
bad  in  the  best  of  them.  Fay  is  aknost 
too  contemptible,  and  Magdalen  too  mag- 
nificent. But  the  eff'ect  is  of  dramatic 
value,  and  the  modern  world  approves 
of  "the  falsehood  of  e.xtremes." 

In  humorous  description.  Miss  Chol- 
mondeley is  decidedly  happy,  and  the 
reader  turns  with  relief  from  the  martyr- 
dom of  Michael's  unjust  imprisonment 
to  a  contemplation  of  the  "aimts"  of  the 

*Toronto:  The  Copp,  Clark  Company. 


ABOUT  NEW    BOOKS 


Bellairs  household,  whose  imi)erfccti(jii.- 
iire  set  forth  with  a  wit  as  delif^htful  as 
it  is  airily  malicious.  One  fairly  chuckles 
over  the  match-making  creature  who  cap- 
tures the  poor  general  and  makes  him 
uncomfortable  ever  after.  Such  delinea- 
tions are  all  too  rare,  and  the  reader  feels 
grateful  for  an  opportunity  to  trace  the 
resemblance  between  the  pilloried  char- 
acters and  his  own  dear  friends.  Miss 
Cholmondeley  may  yet  give  us  a  Mrs. 
Peyser,  or  a  Betsy  Trotwood. 

rr 

A  DISCERXIXG  TRIBUTE 

THE  articles  on  the  late  Mrs.  Craigie 
(John  OHver  Hobbes)  have  a 
deeply  emotional  tinge,  as  if  the  novelist's 
personality  had  appealed  strongly  to  both 
readers  and  friends.  The  most  interest- 
ing sketch  is  that  written  by  Desmond 
Mountjoy  Raleigh,  in  the  September  num- 
ber of  the  "Review  of  Reviews,"  in  which 
he  dwells  with  tine  imaginative  touch  on 
the  threefold  nacure  of  "Pearl  Mary- 
Teresa"  Craigie: 

"She  was  'John  Oliver  Hobbes,'  the 
somewhat  Puritan,  who,  with  unfailing 
finger,  pointed  out  the  evils  and  sores  of 
modem  life,  and  who  had  much  of  the 
stem  Puritan  hatred  for  make-believe 
and  sham. 

"Then  she  was  Pearl  Craigie,  the  dar- 
ling of  her  friends,  the  intimate  of  the 
great  social,  artistic  and  literary  world, 
the  equal  of  queens,  a  woman  who  faith- 
fully served  her  contemporaries  to  her 
utmost  ability. 

"Last,  and  most  alluring  picture  of  all, 
she  was  'Mary-Teresa,'  and  she  was  not 
unworthy  of  the  great  women  whose 
namesake  she  was,  and  in  whose  steps 
she  humbly  sought  to  follow." 

SCOTTISH  ART 

T1/-ILLIAM  D.  McKAY,  R.S.A.,  who 
VV  is  librarian  to  the  Royal  Scottish 
Academy,  has  accomplished  a  commend- 
able and  valuable  work  in  the  volume, 
"  The  Scottish  School  of  Painting."*  From 
Raebum  to  William  B.  Scott  covers  a 
space  of  almost  a  centurj'  and  a  half,  of 

*London:    Duckworth  &  Co. 
New  York;    Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 


MRS.    CR.AIGIE 
(John  Oliver  Hobbes) 

which  the  author  treats  in  such  a  fashion 
that  those  who  have  been  somewhat  in- 
formed on  this  subject  are  stimulated  to 
desire  a  further  acquaintance  with  Scot- 
tish painters,  while  those  Canadian  read- 
ers whose  knowledge  thereof  has  been 
gained  only  from  the  exhibition  of  Scot- 
tish pictures  sent  to  Canada,  are  given 
a  glimpse  of  the  treasures  that  await 
them  in  Edinburgh  and  Glasgow.  Prob- 
ably the  most  interesting  chapter  to  the 
la>Tnan  is  "Social  and  Artistic  Life  in 
Edinburgh,  1773-1823,"  in  which  we 
are  informed  concerning  the  early  part 
of  the  Nineteenth  Century:  "Through 
those  years  the  genial  presence  of  Scott 
runs  like  a  golden  thread.  Though  the 
aesthetic  was  not  the  strong  side  of  his 
nature,  none  were  more  welcome  to  his 
fireside,  in  town  or  on  Tweedside,  than 
the  artist  fraternity.  It  was  not  till 
later  that  he  humorously  says  that  the 
very  dogs  were  uneasy  when  a  painter 
made  his  appearance."  That  Stuart 
misfortunes  should  be  immortalised  in 
Scottish  art  and  fiction   is  becoming  to 


88 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


ILLUSTRATION    BY    G.    E.    MCELROY    FROM       THE    CAMERO.XS    OF 
BRUCE"    BY    R.    L.    RICHARDSON 


a  race  so  true  to  the  clan.  Among  the 
forty-five  illustrations  which  adorn  the 
book,  there  is  none  more  suggestive  of 
Highland  traditions  than  the  reproduc- 
tion of  Archer's  "The  King  Over  the 
Water."  The  "tender  grace  of  a  day 
that  is  dead"  is  in  the  upturned  face 
and  lifted  arm  of  the  lady  of  the  old 
school  who  drinks  to  her  banished  king, 
while  the  white  rose  of  the  cause  lies  in 
lonely  significance  on  the  table.  The 
frontispiece  is  "Mrs.  William  Urquhart," 
by  Raeburn,  the  portrait  being  the  prop- 
erty of  the  Corporation  of  Glasgow. 


WHEN  STEAD 
SCOLDS 

TT  is  a  curious  cir- 
-'■  cumstance  that 
Mr.  W.  T.  Stead, 
who  is  an  enthusi- 
astic opponent  of 
militarism,  should  be 
the  most  belligerent 
scribe  in  the  British 
Empire  when  he 
really  undertakes  a 
journalistic  crusade. 
Miss  Corelli  herself 
cannot  begin  to  scold 
as  vigorously  as  this 
Knight  of  the  Wrath- 
ful Countenance. 
Mr.  Stead  is  engaged 
in  writing  "Impres- 
sions of  the  Theatre," 
and  in  the  article 
"My  First  Music- 
Hail"  he  gives  in  no 
uncertain  language 
his  opinion  of  the 
degenerate  perform- 
ance and  the  vacuous 
audience.  Mr.  Wil- 
liam Winter,  the 
veteran  dramatic 
critic  of  the  New 
York  Tribune,  will 
probably  endorse 
with  heartiness  the 
Englishman's  con- 
demnation. Those 
who  are  acquainted 
with  such  vaudeville 
performances  as 
our  few  Canadian  cities  provide,  can 
appreciate  this  characteristic  Steadian 
outburst  : 

"If  I  had  to  sum  up  the  whole  per- 
formance in  a  single  phrase  I  should  say, 
'Drivel  for  the  dregs' — only  that  and 
nothing  more."  Referring  to  actors  and 
"the  more  degraded  creatures  in  the 
stalls,"  he  says:  "And  this  is  what  we 
have  made  of  them!  This  is  the  net 
product  of  centuries  of  Christian  teach- 
ing, of  our  ancient  Universities  and  our 
modern  Education  Acts,  of  our  cheap 
press  and  our  free  Hbraries!" 


ABOUT  np:w  books 


89 


NOTES 

"  V' ia  liurealis,"  a  poem  by  Duncan 
Campbell  Scott,  forming  a  Ijooklet  of 
thirty-two  pages,  has  been  published 
this  month  by  William  T)Trell  and  Com- 
pany of  Toronto.  The  cover  design 
and  decorative  illustrations  are  the  work 
of  A.  H.  Howard,  who  has  admirably 
caught  the  spirit  of  the  poem. 

"The  Cornllower  and  Other  Poems," 
by  Jean  Blewett,  is  assured  of  a  Cana- 
dian welcome.  The  book  will  be  pub- 
lished by  William  Briggs,  as  will  also 
"A  Hymn  of  Empire  and  Other  Poems," 
by  Frederick  George  Scott,  and  "Among 
the  Immortals,"  by  R.  Walter  Weight. 

Among  the  new  novels  by  Canadian 
authors  published  by  William  Briggs 
are  "Cupid  and  the  Candidate"  and 
"The  Camerons  of  Bruce."  The  former 
is  by  Mrs.  Leeming  Carr,  a  Hamilton 
author.  Those  who  have  had  a  prelim- 
inary glance  at  the  story  are  confident 
of  its  appeal  to  Canadian  readers,  since 
it  deals  with  humour  and  vivacity  with 
an  Ontario  election,  the  hero  being  an 
aspirant  for  political  office.  The  book 
will  have  a  pretty  cover  design  by  Ida 
M.  Sutherland.  "The  Camerons  of 
Bruce"  is  the  work  of  R.  L.  Richardson, 
the  editor  of  the  Winnipeg  Tribune,  who 
has  already  published  "Colin  of  the 
Ninth  Concession."  The  present  story 
affords  vivid  glimpses  of  life  in  Western 
Canada,  which  is  just  now  the  most 
attractive  part  of  the  continent.  Mr.  G. 
E.  McElroy,  an  artist  with  New  York 
training,  is  making  a  series  of  five  illus- 
trations and  a  cover  design  for  the  book. 
"The  Pancake  Preacher,"  by  Mack 
Cloie,  has  a  promising  title.  The  Briggs 
publishing  house  will  also  bring  out  a 
new  Canadian  edition  of  "Marjorie's 
Canadian  Winter,"  by  Agnes  Maule 
Machar,  a  story  which  was  originally 
published  in  Boston  and  which  ought 
to  gladden  the  heart  of  many  a  small 
Canadian  this  Christmastide. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  name  a  Christ- 
mas story  of  greater  charm  than  "The 
Other  Wise  Man,"  by  Henry  Van  Dyke. 
Those  who  have  read  it  will  need  no  urg- 
ing to  read  "The  First  Christmas  Tree" 


by  the  same  author.  It  is  to  be  ]jub- 
lished  in  Canada,  in  Vjoth  cloth  and  leather 
binding,  by  the  Copp,  Clark  Company. 

"Studies  of  Plant  Life  in  Canada," 
by  Mrs.  Catharine  Parr  Traill,  a  reprint 
of  a  valuable '  book  that  for  many  years 
has  been  unobtainable,  will  Ije  jHiblished 
by  William  Briggs.  The  new  edition 
is  an  excellent  piece  of  book-making, 
with  eight  full-page  illu.strations  in  nat- 
ural colours  and  twelve  half-ttme  re- 
productions, all  from  reproductions  by 
Mrs.  Agnes  Chamberlin. 

"The  Adventures  of  Billy  Topsail," 
by  Norman  Duncan,  is  published  in 
Canada  by  the  Fleming  H.  Revell  Com- 
pany. The  wholesome  strength  and  \  ivid 
style  that  made  "The  Way  of  the  Sea" 
and  "Dr.  Luke  of  the  Labrador"  such 
a  refreshing  salt  breeze  in  the  world  of 
fiction  are  said  to  render  this  latest  vol- 
ume a  favourite,  especially  with  the 
youth  who  Ukes  "earnest  wed  with  sport." 

About  forty  years  ago  Lord  Redesdale, 
then  Mr.  A.  B.  Freeman-Milford,  was 
a  secretary  of  the  British  Legation  in 
Japan.  Ever  since  that  time  he  has 
been  an  enthusiastic  student  of  Japanese 
affairs,  and  has  recently  acted  as  a  sort 
of  official  historian  in  the  recent  mission 
of  King  Edward  to  invest  the  ^Mikado 
with  the  Order  of  the  Garter.  Lord 
Redesdale's  new  book  on  the  mission, 
which  the  Macmillan  Company  has  just 
published,  is  to  bear  the  .subhead,  "The 
New  Japan." 

One  of  the  most  important  publica- 
tions in  Canadian  poetry  is  "The  Pipes 
of  Pan, "which  has  just  been  issued  in 
complete  form  by  the  Copp,  Clark  Com- 
pany. The  volume  contains:  "From 
the  Book  of  Myths,"  "From  the  Green 
Book  of  the  Bards,"  "Songs  of  the  Sea 
Children,"  "Songs  from  a  Northern 
Garden,"  and  "From  the  Book  of 
Valentines." 

The  October  issue  of  Acadiensis  opens 
with  a  brilliant  reproduction  of  the  arms 
of  Brigadier-General  Otter  as  frontispiece. 
"Alajor  Ferguson's  Riflemen"  is  an  in- 
teresting story  of  volunteers  who  played 
an  important  part  in  the  revolutionary 
struggle  in  the  Carolinas,  and  forms  a 
distinct  contribution  to  Lovalist  literature. 


IDLE      MOMENTS 


CALCULATED  CALLS 

HOW    THE    CADETS    GOT    EVEN    WITH    IVAY 

PROFESSOR  RAY  was  a  great  fa- 
vourite with  the  cadets  at  the  Royal 
Military  College  of  Canada. 

They  all  considered  him  a  "square- 
head"; and  they  all  agreed  that  no  one 
could  touch  him  at  mathematics. 

But  Professor  Ivay  had  A  Little  Pet 
Weakness,  whose  everj'  suggestion  he 
indulged. 

The  name  of  this  Weakness  was  A 
Fondness  For  Digression.  To-day,  the 
Professor  had  gone  from  Calculus  to 
Calls. 

The  Senior  Class  began  to  grow  rest- 
less. This  was  the  last  mathematics  at- 
tendance before  the  Christmas  exam., 
and  the  To-be-examined  had  counted  on 
unlimited  pointers  from  the  Professor 
at  the  sitting.  Through  weeks  of  foot- 
ball, their  minds  had  wandered  far 
a-field;  but,  now,  they  had  run  up  against 
the  Inevitable. 

Still,  the  Professor  continued  his  Com- 
ments on  Calls,  now  clearing  up  the 
Career  of  the  Calling  Card. 

The  Class  bore  with  this  as  patiently 
as  it  could;  but,  after  a  time,  it  began  to 
shuffle  its  feet — at  first,  just  a  little,  then, 
more  and  more,  and,  at  last,  as  much  as 
it  dared. 

But  the  Complacent  Contemplation  of 
Calls  went  on. 

The  clock  ticked  away  the  precious 
minutes  of  the  attendance,  while  a  creep- 
ing horror  came  upon  the  rnathematics- 
less  listeners. 

Then,  the  hands  of  the  Class  began 
to    make    mysterious    signs.     In    a    few 

90  " 


moments,  a  Champion  arose  and  politely 
asked  a  question  on  Calculus. 

The  inquiry  was  promptly  satisfied; 
but,  immediately,  the  Professor  returned 
to  the  Calling  Code. 

Two  or  three  other  mathematical 
queries  were  ventured;  but  these  eUcited 
only  brief  replies. 

For,  now,  the  Professor  was  in  full 
swing,  cantering  cheerfully  along  over 
CaUing  Claims. 

At  length,  he  reached  the  Claims  of 
the  Staff. 

Then,  the  Conscience  of  the  Class  be- 
gan to  prick,  and  a  light  was  borne  in 
upon  it.  It  remembered,  now,  Mrs. 
Ivay's  last  dance,  which  had  been  given 
to  the  Seniors,  and  that,  since  that  event, 
the  cadets  had  altogether  neglected  to 
pay  their  respects.  Football  had  knocked 
out  a  variety  of  Claims. 

At  last,  a  loud  Clang  brought  the 
Careful  Consideration  of  Calls  to  a  Close. 

That  evening,  the  cadets  of  the  Senior 
Class  held  a  Solemn  Conclave,  for  they 
had  resolved  to  show  Professor  Ivay 
that  they  appreciated  his  lecture  on 
Calls.  The  Confabulation  was  strictly 
Confidential.  Upon  its  conclusion,  the 
"Chief"  of  the  "Recruits"  was  sirni- 
moned,  and  a  Curious  Commission  was 
given,  through  him,  to  his  Class,  which 
the  Commanding  Seniors  held  in  Com- 
plete Control. 

On  a  snowy  afternoon,  late  in  Decem- 
ber, ^Irs.  Ivay's  drawing-room  was  par- 
ticularly bright  and  attractive.  A  cheer-' 
ful  fire  was  burning,  ready  to  give  its 
pleasant   welcome   to   callers   coming   in 


IDLE    MOMENTS 


!)1 


from  the  wintry  outside  world, 
and  tea  had  just  been  brought 
in,  fragrant  and  tempting. 

But  Mrs.  Ivay  was  very 
dull.  She  was  thinking  how 
stupid  she  had  been  to  receive 
to-day,  when  ever\one  was  too 
busy  with  Christmas  presents 
to  bother  about  Calls.  During 
all  the  afternoon,  only  three  old 
bores  had  come  in,  and  it  had 
been  trying  work  talking  to 
them. 

Just  then,  there  was  a  ring 
at  the  door,  and  t\vo  cadets  of 
the  "  Recruit"  Class  were  shown 
into  the  drawing-room. 

Mrs.  Ivay  greeted  them  cor- 
dially. They  seemed  awfully 
joll\-,  after  the  owls  who  had 
been  in  before,  and,  with  ready 
hospitality,  she  pressed  tea  and 
cake  and  crumpets  upon  them. 
Mrs.  Ivay  had  a  notion  that 
you  could  always  be  kind  to  a 
cadet  by  feeding  him. 

The  hostess  really  felt  quite 
sorry,  when,  in  a  very  few 
minutes,  these  callers,  after  a 
reproachful  glance  at  the  clock, 
and  a  regretful  look  at  the  fire 
and  the  crumpets,  took  their 
leave.  The  room  seemed  lonely 
when  they  had  gone,  for  it  was 
a  dreary  sort  of  afternoon. 

But  Mrs.  Ivay  was  not  left 
long  alone.  In  a  little  while, 
there  was  another  ring  at  the 
door,  and  now  three  cadets,  also  "Recruits," 
were  ushered  in.  Like  their  predecessors, 
these  remained  but  a  short  time^the 
instructions  of  the  Seniors  on  that  point 
had  been  very  strict. 

Scarcely  had  the  three  departed  when 
two  others  entered.  Cake  and  crumpets 
began  to  vanish  in  an  alarming  manner, 
but  still  the  "Recruits"  continued  to 
come.  Sometimes  there  were  two  of 
them,  sometimes  three.  In  an  interval 
between  Calls,  a  housemaid  hurried  in 
to  whisper  despairingly  that  there  was  not 
even  a  piece  of  bread  left  in  the  house. 
Mrs.  Ivay  sent  her  to  the  telephone — 
while  the  cadets  continued  to  appear. 


VOLUMES 

Lady  Gushixgton:  "So  your  son  is  a  real  author! 
How  distractingly  interesting!  And  does  he  write  for 
money?" 

Practical  Dad:  "Yes.  I  get  his  applications  about 
once  a  week." — Punch. 


The  "Recruits"  carried  out  the  orders 
the  Seniors  had  given  them  to  the  letter, 
and  thus  the  Class  revenged  itself  upon 
the  house  of  Ivay  for  the  Professor's  un- 
timely digression. 

By  the  time  the  entire  "Recruit"  Class 
had  presented  itself  in  instalments,  the 
telephone  was  almost  having  spasms  and 
the  housemaids  v/ere  nearly  in  hysterics, 
while  bakers'  carts  were  rushing  up  to 
the  house  with  the  speed  of  fire-engines, 
and  poor  Mrs.  Ivay  was  well-nigh  ex- 
hausted. 

Professor  Ivay  must  have  concluded 
that  the  education  of  the  Senior  Class, 


92 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


He:  "So  that's  the  young  thing  old  Slocum's  married!    May  and 
December — what !' ' 
She:  "Yes — or  the  First  of  April  and  the  Fifth  of  November!" 

— Punch. 


in  at  least  one  subject,  was  complete, 
for  he  digressed  no  more  from  Calculus 
to  Calls.  May  Gober  Agnew. 

U 
A  MATTER  OF  CONFIDENCE 

A  CLERGYMAN  on  an  Atlantic  voy- 
age had  to  share  a  stateroom  with 
another  man.  "After  a  short  while," 
said  the  clergyman,  "I  began  to  worry 
about  some  valuables  I  had  with  me,  and 
at  last  I  took  them  to  the  ptirser,  saying: 
'I  should  Uke  to  explain  to  you  that  I  am 
very  pleased  with  my  feUow-passenger. 
That  is,  I  find  him  a  gentleman  in  every 
respect,  and  I  wouldn't  have  you  think 
that — well,  I  wouldn't  have  you  think  that 
my  coming  to  you  with  these  valuables  is 


to  be  taken — er— er 
— as  any  reflection  on 
him.'  The  purser 
interrupted  me  with 
a  broad  smile,  and 
-  said:  'Oh,  it's  all 
right,  sir;  your  friend 
has  come  to  me  with 
some  valuables  of  his 
own,  and  he  said  pre- 
cisely the  same  thing 
about  yourself.'" 
— Selected. 

rr 

FROM    THE 
GALLERY 

A  PROVINCIAL 
■^  theatre  in  the 
east  of  Scotland  is 
much  tormented  by  a 
wit,  who  is  a  regular 
attender,  and  who 
insists  on  keeping  up 
a  running  comment- 
ary  on  the  play. 
Sometimes  his 
remarks  enhvens  a 
dull  piece,  and  so  the 
audience  do  not  ob- 
ject to  his  presence. 
His  latest  hit  occurred 
when  a  thrilling  melo- 
drama was  being 
enacted. 

The  principal  actor 
was  laid  aside  sud- 
denly by  illness,  and  his  part  had  to  be 
taken  up  by  his  understudy,  who  was 
talented  but  slender.  At  a  critical  moment 
in  the  play  the  princess  faints  and  falls, 
when  the  hero,  coming  to  her  assistance, 
lifts  her  in  his  arms  and  carries  her  out. 
The  princess  on  this  particular  occasion 
was  as  heavy  as  she  was  lovely,  and  the 
slender  understudy  realised  the  magnitude 
of  the  task  that  was  put  upon  him.  When 
she  fainted,  he  leaned  over  her,  but  hesi- 
tated perceptibly. 

The  hesitation  was  not  lost  on  the  wit, 
who,  from  his  seat  in  the  gallery,  broke 
the  stilled  hush  by  exclaiming,  in  a  thin, 
tremulous  voice: 

"Just  tak'  what  ye  can,  my  man,  and 
come  back  for  the  rest.'' — Selected. 


©(KODIID 


A  UNIQUE  RAILWAY 

ONE  of  the  most  unique  railways   to 
be  found  in   Canada  is  the  piece  of 
road   which   has   re- 
cently been    con- 
structed over  the 
portage  between  Pen-  ^ 

insular  Lake  and 
Lake  of  Bays,  in  the 
Lake  of  Bays  district. 
It  is  a  narrow-gauge 
track  about  a  mile  in 
length,  and  the  road 
is  operated  by  the 
Huntsville  and  Lake 
of  Bays  Navigation 
Co.  in  transferring 
tourists  from  one  line 
of  steamers  to  an- 
other. The  diminu- 
tive   train    is    made 

up  of  a  Httle  engine,  "just  the  size  of  two 
plug  hats,"  I  once  heard  it  described;  a 
home-made  baggas;e  car,  and  one  of  the 


old  Toronto  street  cars  for  a  passenger 
car.  The  two  engines  in  use  were  ob- 
tained from  the  E.  B.  Eddy  Co.,  Hull, 
and  were  formerlv  used  in  their  lumber 


93 


A    LOG    SCHOOL-HOUSE 


A   UNIQUE   RAILWAY 

yards.  They  have  been  christened  by 
the  small  boys  on  the  line,  "The  Susan 
Push"  and  "The   Corkscrew  Limited," 

and  the  names  are  certainly 

not   inappropriate. 

tr 

A  PICTURESQUE  COUNTRY 
SCHOOL-HOUSE 

OXE  of  the  most  picturesque 
country  school-houses 
that  I  have  seen,  is  the  little 
log  structure  that  is  situated 
on  the  shore  of  Haystack  Bay, 
in  the  Lake  of  Bays.  It  is 
surrounded  on  three  sides  by 
a  thick  forest  of  pine,  spruce, 
and  f  hemlock,  and  on  the 
fourth  by  the  waters  of  the 
bay;  and  the  school  yard 
itself  constitutes  one  of  the 
finest  wild  raspberry  patches 
in  the  district.    There  is  not 


94 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


known  as  the  Elbows.  In  the 
one  case,  as  will  be  readily 
seen,  the  original  trunk  has 
been  destroyed  and  the  life 
of  the  tree  has  gone  into  the 
branch,  which  has  assumed 
the  proportions  of  a  full-grown 
tree.  In  the  other  case  some 
accident  to  the  sapling  has 
resulted  in  the  pecuhar  form- 
ation of  the  trunk. 


PRINCE  ALEXANDER  OF 
BATTENBERG 

PRINCE    ALEX.\NDER 
OF   BATTENBERG, 


THE    ELBOWS — A  TREE    FROM    A    BRAXC 

a  house  within  a  mile  of  the  school, 
but  nevertheless  this  is  the  most  central 
point  in  the  section.  The  children  on 
the  one  side  come  through  the  woods 
from  Port  Cannington,  on  the  other  side 
of  the  peninsula;  and  in  the  other  direc- 
tion they  come  by  canoe  or  skiff  from 
the  scattered  houses  on  the  other  side  of 
Haystack  Bay.  There  are  only  a  score 
or  so  of  pupils  altogether,  and'  needless 
to  say  when  the  weather  is  stormy  the 
attendance  is  not  worth  speaking  of. 

U 
THE  ELBOWS 
'T^HE  two  illustrations  are  pictures  of 
i     two  peculiar  shaped  trees  near  Ridge- 
town,    Ont.,   both   of   which   are   locallv 


brother  of  the  Queen  of  Spain, 
will  soon  become  a  personage 
in  the  world  of  London.  An 
amusing  stor}-  has  been  told  of  his  school 
days.  Like  many  other  little  boys  he 
ran  short  of  pocket  money,  and  wrote  a 
carefully  w^orded  letter  to  his  grand- 
mother, the  late  Queen  Victoria,  asking 
for  some  slight  pecimiar}-  assistance.  He 
received  in  return  a  just  rebuke,  saying 
that  schoolboys  should  keep  within  their 
limits,  and  that  he  must  wait  until  the 
next  payment  of  his  allowance.  But  the 
youthful  Prince  was  quite  undefeated  and 
shortly  afterwards  resumed  the  corre- 
spondence as  follows:  "My  dear  grand- 
mamma, I  am  sure  you  wnll  be  glad 
to  know  that  I  need  not  trouble  you 
for  any  money  just  now,  for  I  sold 
your  last  letter  to  another  boy  for  thirty 
shillings." 


THE    ELBOWS — A    T^^^STED    TRUNK 


CALL  LOANS 

BANKHRS  in  this  country  have  al- 
ways feh  justified  in  sending  mil- 
Uons  of  dollars  to  New  York  to  be  loaned 
for  the  use  of  the  speculators  of  Wall 
Street.  It  may  surprise  them  to  know  that 
the  same  practice  on  the  part  of  United 
States  banks  outside  of  New  York  has 
been  condemned  by  no  less  an  authority 
than  Mr.  Shaw,  the  Secretary  of  the  United 
States  Treasury.  Mr.  Shaw's  circular 
letter  to  the  depository  banks  is,  in  part, 
as  follows: 

"I  am  advised  that  many  banks,  scattered 
throughout  the  country,  are  loaning  their  sur- 
plus funds  through  brokers  and  others  in  New 
York  on  call  at  high  rates  of  interest.  Money 
loaned  on  call  is  well-nigh  universally  for 
speculative  purposes.  .  .  .1  am  not  willing.  .  .  . 
that  Government  money  should  be  enticed 
away  from  the  locality  where  it  has  been 
deposited,  for  the  purpose  of  being  used  in 
this  way.  Public  deposits  are  made  in  aid  of 
legitimate  business  as  distinguished  from 
speculation. 

"If  you  have  more  money  than  your  com- 
mtmity  can  appropriately  absorb  please 
return  it  to  the  Treasury,  for  it  can  be 
promptly  placed  where  it  will  do  much  good." 

The  Canadian  banks  have  about  forty 
million  dollars  in  call  loans  elsewhere 
than  in  Canada.  At  times  this  rises  to 
fifty  millions.  Its  great  virtue  is  that  it 
is  a  "liquid"  asset,  w^hich  may  be  turned 
into  cash  at  a  moment's  notice;  that  it 
is  much  more  "liquid"  than  call  loans 
at  home. 

\Vhatever  may  have  been  the  value  of 
this  argument  in  the  past,  the  country  is 
getting  so  large  and  so  rich  that  w'hat 
was  true  yesterday  is  not  true  to-day. 
Consequently,  Canadian  bankers  might 
well  consider  seriously  the  warning  given 
by  Secretary  Shaw.  In  fact,  the  govern- 
ment would  not  be  ill-advised  in  consider- 
ing the  question  of  putting  some  limit 
95 


upon  this  supporting  of  New  York  specu- 
lation. 

Incidentally  it  may  be  mentioned  that 
Canadian  banks  are  financing  large  under- 
takings in  Mexico,  Cuba,  and  South 
America,  and  that  these  advances  are 
classed  with  "call  loans  in  Canada." 
They  are  in  fact  "call  loans  elsewhere 
than  in  Canada,"  and  should  be^so 
classified.  This  would  decrease  the  one 
item  ten  or  fifteen  miUions  and  increase 
the  other  by  the  same  amount. 

U 
AMERICAN  FARMERS  IX  CANADA 

THE  London  Globe  is  displaying  deep 
concern  over  the  fact  that  American 
farmers  are  being  permitted  to  homestead 
in  Canada  before  they  Vjecome  British 
subjects.  The  Globe  insists  that  the.  Ca- 
nadian authorities  are  unwise  in  consent- 
ing to  such  an  arrangement,  especially 
"while  men  in  England  are  clamouring 
to  get  back  to  the  land."  The  Globe  is 
incorrectly  informed  if  it  assumes  that 
men  may  homestead  in  Canada  while 
subjects  of  another  sovereignty.  Titles 
do  not  pass  to  homesteads  until  the  claim- 
ant has  resided  upon  the  property  the 
better  part  of  three  years  and  taken  out 
naturalisation  papers. 

To  follow-  the  Globe's  suggestion  and 
require  a  proposed  homesteader  to  reside 
in  the  country  long  enough  to  qualify  as  a 
citizen  before  being  permitted  to  occupy  a 
quarter  section  under  the  homestead  law 
would  be  to  defeat  the  whole  plan  under 
which  it  is  proposed  to  bring  the  vast 
western  domain  under  cultivation.  The 
men  of  England  may  be  clamouring,  as 
the  Globe  insists,  to  get  back  to  the  land, 
but  the  fact  that  the  government  is  forced 
to  pay  a  bonus  to  the  North  Atlantic 
Trading  Company  and  similar  organisa- 
tions to  promote  immigration  from  the 


96 


THE    CANADIAN    >L\GAZIXE 


United  Kingdom,  while  the  American 
settlers  are  pouring  into  this  country  with- 
out artificial  stimulation,  rather  indicates 
that  the  Globe's  assumption  is  false. 

The  men  of  the  West  are  a  imit  in  the 
belief  that  farmers  from  Eastern  Canada 
and  the  States  supply  the  best  settlers 
available  for  the  \\'est.  The  reasons  are 
obvious.  In  fact  the  man  who  has  home- 
steaded  in  Iowa,  Nebraska  and  the  Da- 
kotas  becomes  a  homesteader  in  Canada 
under  infinitely  more  favourable  conditions 
than  any  other  class  of  settlers.  He  has 
farmed  under  conditions  identical  with 
those  prevaiUng  in  Western  Canada.  For 
the  government  to  be  forced  into  restrict- 
ing a  movement  from  the  States  that  has 
cost  thousands  of  dollars  and  years  of 
time  to  stimulate  would  be  stupidity  too 
dense  to  contemplate.  The  fact  that 
these  American  farmers  usually  enquire 
about  the  conditions  under  which  they 
may  be  naturalised  at  the  time  they  pre- 
pare lor  homesteading  is  ample  evidence 
of  their  sincerity,  and  the  conditions 
should  not  be  made  more  arduous  thanat 
present. — Winnipeg  Telegram. 

U 

POLITICAL  ECONOMY  IN  BUSINESS 

PERHAPS  the  most  widely  read  text- 
book on  PoUtical  Economy  among 
American  college  students  to-day  is  Pro- 
fessor Gide's  "  Principles  of  Political  Econ- 
omy," the  second  translation  of  which  from 
the  8th  French  edition  is  issued  by  Heath  & 
Co.  The  book  is  written  in  a  lucid  style, 
and  appeals  to  business  men  as  well,  on 
whose  book-shelves  it  might  readily  find 
a  place  alongside  of  their  Adam  Smith 
and  their  John  Stewart  Mill,  which,  in 
spite  of  all  competitors,  never  grow  old. 

Business  men  frequently  disdain  col- 
lege books  as  being  academic  and  im- 


practical. To  a  considerable  extent  they 
are  right,  for  no  text-book  or  treatise  on 
principles  can  be  a  practical  treatise  like 
a  medical  manual  or  a  Mrs.  Beeton's  cook 
book,  full  of  nostrums  and  recipes.  It 
can  only  offer  a  discussion  of  principles 
with  perhaps  some  t}^ical  applications. 
Even  then  it  is  unfortunate  for  theory  that 
the  applications  can  never  be  entirely 
identical  with  conditions,  for,  like  history, 
conditions  often  fail  to  repeat  themselves, 
and  the  applications  of  to-day  are  no  im- 
mutable guides  for  to-morrow.  Theory, 
too,  in  every-day  affairs  cuts  often  a  sorry 
figure  simply  because  some  raw  recruit 
fires  it  off  at  half-cock. 

It  is  these  facts  that  go  to  explain  the 
readily-flung  cries  of  theoretical  and  aca- 
demic. But  theor}'  is  well  in  its  place; 
it  is  as  indispensible  as  practice.  Theory 
is  the  idea  or  the  basis  of  the  idea;  prac- 
tice is  the  result.  And  after  all  is  said 
and  done  the  world  owes  a  great  deal  to 
theory,  perhaps  more  than  most  of  us 
have  any  adequate  conception  of;  and 
the  best  practical  man  is  the  man  who  is 
thoroughly  familiar  with  actual  conditions, 
and  also  with  the  theor}'  of  those  con- 
ditions. 

On  a  little  reflection,  these  statements 
are  obvious  enough.  We  use  them  here 
to  emphasise  the  importance  to  business 
men  of  such  works  as  Professor  Gide's 
Political  Economy.  Never  before  has 
the  labour  problem  been  so  universally 
prominent  and  dehcate,  never  before  have 
banking  and  credit  assumed  such  tre- 
mendous importance,  never  before  have 
taxation  and  customs  tariffs,  and  com- 
bines of  all  kinds,  and  social  problems 
loomed  larger.  If  ever  a  thoughtful  study 
of  the  theory  of  society  and  wealth  was 
called  for,  that  call  is  heard  to-day. — 
S.  M.  W.  in  Industrial  Canada. 


DO  YOU  CARE.? 

A  Civil  Service  Reform  League  is  required  to  stimulate  legislation 
for  the  elimination  of  patronage.  If  you  would  join  such  a  league  put 
your  name  on  a  post  card  and  mail  to  "Civil  Service,"  Canadian 
Magazine,  Toronto.  This  will  entail  no  obligation,  pecuniary  or 
otherwise,  but  it  will  show  that  you  are  one  of  a  thousand  who  care. 


~       3-' 


X     =  : 

-—     '-J 


S  T.'O 


^s 


I 


THE 


Canadian  Magazine 


\UL.  XX\"I11 


roRoXTO,  DECEMBER,   1906 


So.  2 


Jerusalem  and  Its  Environments 


Bv   JEAN    TEMPLER 


T  last  the  dream  of  a  lifi'- 
timc  was  about  to  become  a 
reality.  At  high  noon  on 
A|)ril  5th,  1904,  the  Grosser 
Kurjurst,  a  steamer  of  the 
German  Steam  Lloyd  Company,  found 
her  moorings  in  the  open  roadstead  before 
Jaffa.  On  board  were  eight  hundred 
Canadian  and  ^American  pilgrims  on 
their  way  to  attend  the  World's]  Fourth 
Sunday-School  Convention,  to  be  held  in 
Jerusalem.  Landing  at  Jaffa  is  no  easy 
task,  and  hence  no  sinecure  for  the 
native  rowers;  but  they  handled  the  oars 
with  skill  and  we  were  safely  piloted 
through  the  great  rocks  and  boulders 
piled  along  the  harbour  front. 

Jaft'a  is  the  gateway  through  which 
thousands  of  pilgrims^Christians  and 
Jews — ^enter  the  Holy  Land  every  year. 
When  our  contingent  of  Jerusalem 
pilgrims  stepped  on  shore  we  were 
obliged  to  push  our  way  through  the 
swarm  of  Orientals  that  curiously 
watched  our  coming.  The  one  narrow, 
squalid  street  was  traversed  and  a  visit 
paid  to  the  house  of  Simon  the  Tanner. 
Our  dragoman  next  led  the  way  to  the 
station,  and,  as  we  passed  along  the 
street  and  saw  the  children  in  their 
rags  and  filthiness,  we  felt  that  Dorcas 
had  left  few,  if  any,  sviccessors.  The 
older  citizens  were  in  a  condition 
equally  unattractive,  and  it  was  diffi- 
cult to  imagine  that  one  of  the  chief 
industries  in  Jaffa  was  a  soap  factorv. 
Being  one  of  the  oldest  cities  in  Pales- 
tine, Jaffa  was  the  scene  of  many  in- 
cidents chronicled  in  the  Old  Testa- 
ment Scriptures.  It  was  at  this  port 
that  Solomon  landed  the  cedars  brought 
from  Mount  Lebanon  for  the  Temple 
99 


building.  It  was  here  that  Jonah  took 
his  passage  for  another  land  when  God 
wanted  him  to  go  and  warn  the  people 
of  Nineveh  regarding  their  impending 
doom,  and  when  the  land  was  parcelled 
out  to  the  tribes  of  Israel,  Jaffa  was  the 
capital  of  the  portion  that  fell  to  Dan. 

The  small  compartment  coaches  were 
soon  filled  with  passengers,  and  the  first 
train  moved  out  towards  Jerusalem, 
thirty-three  miles  inland.  Beautiful  orange 
groves,  with  their  wealth  of  golden  fruit, 
clustered  around  the  city,  and  delicious 
were  the  odours  wafted  to  us  on  the 
afternoon  breeze.  Delightful  old  olive 
orchards  and  large  svcamore  groves  were 


WATER-CARRIER  WITH  GOAT-SKIN  WATER  BOTTLE 


100 


THE    CANADIAN    IViAGAZINE 


THE    CHANNEL    AT    JAFFA    (JOPPa),    THE    PORT    OF    JERUSALEM 


passed,  and  we  were  out  upon  the  plains 
of  Sharon.  Great  fields  of  grain  lay  along 
our  route  and  near-by  ploughmen  in 
sheepskins  prepared  the  soil  for  other 
crops.  Here  a  camel  drew  a  primitive 
plough,  there  an  ox  and  an  ass  plodded 
along  together.  The  whistle  of  the  train 
started  a  pair  of  oxen  across  the  field  at 
a  lively  pace — to  the  great  indignation  of 
their  driver,  and  the  irrepressible  merri- 
ment of  the  pilgrims.  Cactus  fences 
often  hedged  the  way,  and  flocks  of  sheep 
and  goats  fed  under  the  shepherd's  watch- 
ful care.  A  beautiful  lake  reflecting  a  row 
of  native  huts  attracted  our  attention. 
We  watched  it  for  several  minutes  in 
wonder  at  the  perfect  picture  thrown  up 
from  the  surface  of  the  water. 

"It's  a  mirage,"  some  one  commented, 
and  instantly  everybody  looked  wise. 
The  deception  had  been  complete  and 
nobody  pretended  to  laugh.  We  had 
ridden  twenty  miles  over  the  rich  plains, 
passing  several  villages,  whose  dome- 
shaped  houses  were  built  of  sod,  and  were 
about  to  enter  the  rocky  gorge  leading 
through  the  barren  Judean  hills.  To  the 
left  lay  the  Httle  valley  of  Ajalon  where 
Joshua  commanded  the  sun  to  stand  still. 
Nearer  the  railroad  excavators  were  at 
work  in  the  ruins  of  old  Gezer,  the  royal 
city  of  the  Canaanites,  which  had  formed 
part  of  the  do^\Ty  of  Pharaoh's  daughter 
when  she  was  married  to  Solomon.  Our 
train  rattled  by  the  brook  where  David 
gathered  the  pebbles  with  which  he  slew 
the  giant  Goliath,  and  we  were  passing 


through  Samson's  country,  the  scene  of  his 
birth,  and  also  of  his  exploits  against  the 
Philistines.  Flocks  of  black  goats  fed  on 
the  sparse  pasturage  of  the  hillsides,  and 
occasional  shepherds  with  their  sheep 
occupied  little  fertile  flats.  Just  across 
the  narrow  ravine  of  the  valley  of  Hinnom, 
high  on  its  rocky  butments,  loomed  the 
great  embattled  walls  behind  which  lay 
the  city  of  Jerusalem.  It  was  just  twenty- 
five  minutes  past  six  o'clock  on  the  fifth  of 
April. 

Our  feeUngs  can  be  better  imagined 
than  described;  even  the  most  thought- 
less were  hushed  to  silence.  Only  for  a 
moment  were  we  permitted  to  enjoy  our 
deHghtful  reverie.  The  rattle  of  carriage 
wheels  and  the  shouts  of  drivers  warned 
us  that  further  meditation  was  impossible, 
and  we.  hastened  to  the  conveyance  that 
was  to  carr\-  us  over  the  bridge  spanning 
the  ravine  and  along  the  eastern  side  to  the 
city  gate.  Notre  Dame,  a  Roman  Cath- 
olic convent  which  sheltered  over  three 
hundred  and  fifty  of  our  pilgrims,  stands 
across  the  street  from  the  new  gate  in  the 
north-west  comer  of  the  city  wall.  It  was 
a  cold,  gloomy-looking  building,  stone 
walls,  stone  floors,  stone  stairways;  yet 
the  kindness  of  the  attendants  and  the 
warm  cheer  brought  in  by  the  pilgrims 
made  our  stay  a  ver\-  happy  one.  Bright 
and  early  we  were  astir  the  next  morning, 
and  hastened  from  the  third  floor  up  two 
flights  of  stairs,  where  we  stood  upon  the 
flat  roof,  protected  by  a  stone  parapet. 
Jerusalem,  the  city  of  Da\nd,  lay  before 


JERUSALEM    AND    ITS    ENVIROXMEXTS 


101 


^^-l^M't' 


JERUSALEM — D.\>IASCUS   GATE 


us!  Yonder  to  our  left  lay  Olivet,  and 
over  her  sacred  brow  the  rising  sun  had 
reddened  the  eastern  sky.  Softly,  tender- 
1\-,  her  warm  beams  of  light  fell  upon  the 
sleeping  city,  and  silently  we  lifted  our 
hearts  in  thanksgiving  to  our  God  for  the 
wonderful  privilege  we  were  permitted  to 
enjoy.  Then,  as  the  sun  shone  forth  in  all 
her  splendour,  a  paean  of  joy  and  gladness 
burst  from  our  lips : 

Praise  God   from  whom  all  blessings    flow; 

Praise  Him  all  creatures  here  below; 

Praise  Him  above  ye  heavenly  host ; 

PraiseFather,  Son  and  Holy  Ghost. 

The  Mount  of  the  Ascen- 
sion, Mount  Zion,  Calvary, 
the  Temple  Area  and  the 
Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre, 
were  easily  distinguished,  as 
we  had  been  familiar  with 
their  pictures  from  early  child- 
hood. Gladly  we  obeyed  the 
breakfast  summons,  for,  im- 
mediately after,  we  were  to 
enter  the  city  gate.  Jerusalem 
is  the  most  interesting  city  in 
the  world,  ^^'e  first  read  of 
it  as  a  city  of  the  Jebusites, 
captured  by  David  and  made 
the  capital  of  his  empire. 
Solomon  enclosed  the  city 
with  walls  and  built  the 
temple  as  a  permanent  sanctu- 
ary of  worship.  It  occupies  a 
tableland,  around  the  three 
sides  of  which  run  deep  ravines. 
The  valley  of  Jehosaphat,  or 
Kedron,  runs  nearly  straight 
along  the  east  side.  The 
valley  of  Hinnom,  besjinning 


at  the  north-west  corner,  runs  along  the 
west  and  south  sides,  joining  the  valley  of 
Jehosaphat  near  the  Pool  of  Siloam.  In 
the  rainy  season  their  waters  rush  together 
and  on  down  the  gorge  to  mingle  with 
the  waters  of  the  Dead  Sea. 

Modem  Jerusalem  is  an  irregular  quad- 
rangle, built  on  an  accumulation  of  debris 
from  forty  to  one  hundred  feet  deep.  A 
massive  wall  two  and  a  half  miles  in  cir- 
cuit, from  ten  to  twelve  feet  thick,  and 
varying  in  height  from  twenty  to  seventy- 
five  feet,  surrounds  it.     The  houses  are  of 


"baksheesh!" 

Taken  on  Herod's  Colonnade,  Samaria 


102 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


A   STREET  IX   JERUSALEM 

stone  with  flat  or  dome-shaped  roofs. 
The  streets  are  paved  with  small,  irregular 
stones,  and  are  narrow, 
crooked  and  filthy.  The  popu- 
lation is  cosmopolitan,  com- 
prising Jews,  Greeks,  Ar- 
menians, S}Tians  and  a  few 
Abyssinians,  and  numbering 
about  twenty-five  thousand. 

"The  Mosque  of  Omar, 
who's  going  to  see  the 
Mosque?"  we  heard  a  bright 
young  Hebrew  ask  in  ex- 
cellent Enghsh,  just  as  we 
came  into  the  hall.  \A'e  liked 
the  earnest,  intelligent  face  of 
the  lad  and  attached  ourselves 
to  his  party.  The  entrance 
to  the  city  was  made  in  the 
west  wall,  through  Jaffa  gate, 
which  overlooked  Tophet, 
that  part  of  the  Hinnom  ^•alley 
that  had  been  the  scene  of 
such  awful  carnage  in  the 
early  history  of  the  city. 

"This  gate,"  said  Abraham, 
"was  enlarged  a  few  years 
ago,  when  the  German  Em- 
peror visited  Jerusalem." 

We  stepped  through  the 
great  archway.  "This  is  St. 
David's  Street,"  continued  our 


guide,  "and  it  is  the  only  street  where 
a  carriage  can  go." 

We  turned  to  look  at  the  Tower 
of  David  that  guarded  the  entrance,  a 
great  stronghold  built  o\"er  the  palace  of 
Herod. 

"\Miat  animals  are  those  boys  carry- 
ing?" innocently  asked  one  of  our  com- 
pany. Abraham's  merry  laugh  was  the 
only  answer,  and  just  then  two  more  lads 
issued  from  a  side  alley  close  by.  The 
laugh  became  general. 

"These  are  water  bottles,'"  explained 
our  guide,  as  he  greeted  the  lads  in  Arabic 
and  asked  them  to  let  us  look  at  the 
curious  vessels.  "You  see,  they  are  goat- 
skin bottles,  and  if  you  go  to  Hebron,  you 
will  see  the  tannery  where  they  are  pre- 
pared." 

We  could  distinguish  the  Jews  by  their 
pecuhar  fur  head-dress.  Their  sad  faces 
drew  many  expressions  of  sympathy  from 
our  party,  and  the  feeling  was  greatly 
deepened  before  nightfall.  Many  por- 
tions of  the  streets  were  arched  over,  and 


Jeremt 


(getf:,52f^.an^ 


i=. 


f~\\sl\\S  «/.-.nc!2i".f  m?.3. 


OUTLINE    M.^    OF   JERUS.\LE.M 


fl 


JERUSALEM    AND    ITS    EXVIROXMEXTS 


103 


curious  eyes  looked  down  ii])()n  us  from 
latticed  windows. 

''The  Temple  Area,"  explained  Aljra- 
ham,  as  we  stepped  through  a  gateway 
into  a  beautiful  green  sward  dotted  with 
wild  flowers,  and  here  and  there  a  cypress 
or  olive  tree;  "there  are  thirty-five  acres 
enclosed  within  these  walls." 

We  did  not  need  to  be  told  that  the 
wonderful  building  across  from  us  was  the 
■  Mosque  of  Omar,  which  occupied  the  site 
of  Solomon's  temple.  A  raised  platform 
of   flagstones     surrounded    the    Moslem 


green  and  gold  mosaic.  Cosll_\-  marble 
])illars  support  the  ceiling  and,  with  the 
rich  curtains,  form  a  screen  between  the 
outer  and  the  inner  corridors. 

Immediately  under  the  dome  is  a  great 
mass  of  natural  rock. 

''The  Sakhra,  or  Sacred  Rock,  it  is 
called,"  Abraham  informed  us.  "It  is 
the  top  of  Blount  Moriah  and  was  enclosed 
in  Solomon's  Temple.  It  was  here  that 
Father  Abraham  was  about  to  offer  up 
his  son  Isaac  as  a  sacrifice,  when  the  voice 
of  God  stayed  his  hand.     David  sacrificed 


VALLEY    OF    HIXXOM 


temple.  A  Turkish  soldier,  armed  with 
formidable  looking  weapons,  joined  us, 
and  added  bits  of  information  to  our 
guide's  ready  store,  grunting  an  occa- 
sional dissent  to  his  story. 

The  ^losque  is  octagonal  in  shape,  each 
side  measuring  sixty-six  feet,  and  it  is  sur- 
mounted by  a  dome,  the  top  of  which  is 
one  hundred  and  seventy  feet  from  the 
ground.  It  is  a  magnificent  structure. 
Several  Mohammedan  priests  stood  by  the 
door,  and  before  we  were  permitted  to 
enter  they  drew  a  pair  of  slippers  on  each 
of  us  over  our  shoes.  The  interior  of  the 
temple  is  richly  ornamented  in   purple. 


the  oxen  here  for  having  numbered  the 
children  of  Israel." 

A  fence,  forty-three  by  fifty-seven  feet, 
guards  the  rock  from  profane  fingers,  and 
a  canopy  of  crimson  silk  is  gracefully 
draped  over  it.  It  was  on  this  rock  that 
the  Jews  built  their  sacrificial  altars,  and 
the  furrows  that  scarred  it  were  doubtless 
chiselled  by  the  hand  of  man  to  carry  off 
the  blood  from  the  sacrifice. 

"The  Moslems  claim  that  the  rock  is 
suspended  in  the  air,"  Abraham  told  us, 
as  we  stood  by  the  wall  enclosing  it,  "and 
these  marks,"  pointing  to  the  print  of  a 
hand,  "were  made  by  the  hand  of  the 


104 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


AX    OLIVE    TREE    OX    THE    PL-UXS    OF    SHARON 


angel  Gabriel,  who  stayed  the  rock  as  it 
was  following  Mahomet  up  to  heaven. 
Come  with  me  and  I'll  show  you." 

We  followed  him  down  a  flight  of  steps 
to  a  rock-hewn  chamber  beneath.  We 
could  see  no  visible  means  of  support  to 
the  rock  overhead.  A  circular  slab  lay 
at  our  feet. 

"Under  this  is  the  Well  of  Souls,"  we 
were  informed.  "No  female  is  allowed 
to  look  down  into  its  hidden  depths. 
Women  used  to  have  the  privilege,  but 
they  carried  away  so  many  secrets.  Two 
or  three  were  hung,  but  it  did  not  have 
the  desired  effect,  so  they  have  been  shut 
out  entirely.  No,  no!  Christian  men 
can't  look  in,"  Abraham  quickly  added, 
as  one  of  our  gentlemen  stooped  down  and 
touched  the  stone.  The  armed  soldier 
had  stepped  quickly  forward.  Nothing 
escaped  his  watchful  eye. 

Before  leaving  the  temple  we  were 
shown  a  couple  of  hairs— valuable  and 
sacred  relics — sacred  because  they  were 
from  the  beard  of  Mahomet,  and  valuable 
because  when  ^lahomet  comes  to  judge 
the  people  of  the  earth  these  hairs  will 
turn  into  golden  cables  and  be  stretched 
from  Mount  Olivet  to  the  Golden  Gate  in 


the  east  wall.  Here  they  will  form  a  bridge 
over  which  all  the  faithful  shall  pass  into 
the  City  of  Rest. 

Friday  afternoon  we  visited  the  Jews' 
WaiUng  Place.  A  large  mmiber  of  Jews, 
men  and  women,  stood  along  a  portion  of 
the  wall  on  the  north  side  of  the  Temple 
Area,  and  just  over  the  wall  had  stood 
Solomon's  temple.  The  Moslem  will  not 
permit  the  Jews  to  enter  the  Area,  so  they 
gather  here  every  Friday  to  weep  and  wail 
over  the  downfall  of  Israel,  and  to  pray  to 
God  for  her  restoration.  For  several 
yards  the  old  grey  waU  was  worn  as  smooth 
as  glass  with  their  kisses.  Their  agony 
was  pitiful  to  witness,  and  we  better  under- 
stood why  the  old  Jews  always  had  such 
a  sad  visage. 

For  sixteen  hundred  years  the  Church 
of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  has  marked  the 
place  of  the  crucifixion.  Abraham's  fund 
of  information  seemed  in  no  way  dimin- 
ished. "This  church,"  said  he,  "was 
built  by  order  of  St.  Helena,  mother  of 
Constantine  the  Great,  to  mark  the  spot 
where  our  Saviour  was  crucified." 

Several  chapels  were  built  around  the 
central  one,  which  belongs  to  the  Greeks, 
and  five  or  six  Christian  bodies  worship 


JERUSALEM    AND    ITS    ENVIRONMENTS 


105 


in  the  different  chapels,  each  claim- 
ing that  their  building  covers  the  spot 
where  some  incident  of  the  crucifixion 
took,  place.  The  interiors  were  dec- 
orated with  gaudy  tinsel  trappings  and 
lamps,  and  candles  lit  up  the  dark 
places.  Several  hundred  Russian  pil- 
grims almost  blocked  the  way. 

"Are  these  armed  Turks  here  to 
watch  these  pilgrims  ?  "  some  one  asked. 

"Oh,  no,"  replied  Abraham,  "they 
have  to  be  here  all  the  time  to  keep  the 
Christians  from  going  at  each  other'- 
throats!     They  quarrel  so  all  the  time.' 

Here,  near  the  place  where  tht 
Son  of  God  died  to  save  a  lost  world. 
His  followers  quarrel  and  light  o\x'r 
imaginary  sites  and  the  end  is  not  yet, 

"This,"  said  our  guide,  pointing  to 
a  small  marble  structure,  "is  the  sepul 
chre." 

With  a  lighted  taper  in  hand  we 
crept  into  a  small  doorway  and  saw 
the  place  where  the  body  of  our 
Saviour  is  reputed  to  have  lain  in  the 
tomb;  then  we  passed  into  the  Greek 
chapel,  which  is  immediately  under 
the  dome.  It  is  more  richly  adorned 
than  the  others.  Golden  candlesticks 
and  crucifixes,  and  the  gold  cloth  on 
the  altar  glittered  in  the  light  of 
numerous  lamps  and  candles. 

"From  under  this  pillar,"  said  our 
guide,  indicating  a  small  stone  pillar 
standing  in  the  centre,  "was  taken  the 
dust  from  which  Adam  was  made.  The 
navel  of  the  world,  it  is  called  by  the 
Greeks." 

Descending  a  few  steps  to  a  lower  le\-el 
we  were  shown  to  a  chapel  erected  to  the 
memory  of  St.  Helena,  and  we  sat  in  a 
chair  said  to  have  been  used  by  the  princess. 
A  marble  slab  lying  at  the  door  marked 
the  spot  where  the  crosses  had  been  found 
three  hundred  years  after  Golgotha's 
tragedy,  and  on  an  elevation  of  natural 
rock  in  the  Greek  chapel  we  were  shown 
the  holes  in  which  they  had  stood  when 
humanity's  debt  was  paid  by  the  Gali- 
lean. 

Leaving  this  ancient  church  b}-  the 
south  door,  we  walked  down  Christian 
Street.  We  paused  for  a  few  moments 
by  the  Pool  of  Hezekiah,  and  reviewed  in 
part  the  history  of  Israel's  great  King. 


GIRLS    CARRYING    WATER    FROM    PILGRIM'S 
FOUXTAIX,    NAZARETH 

In  the  twentieth  chapter  of  Second  Kings 
it  is  recorded  that  he  built  a  pool.  On 
the  lower  steps  stood  some  native  lads 
filling  their  goat-skin  bottles  with  water. 

St.  Stephen's  Gate  is  in  the  east  wall. 
Abraham  had  guided  our  steps  along  the 
north  wall  to  this  point  and  explained  that 
it  was  here  where  St.  Stephen,  the  first 
Christian  martyr,  met  his  fate.  The 
Pool  of  Bethesda  was  to  the  left  of  the 
entrance,  and  farther  on  to  our  right  we 
visited  the  tower  of  Antonio.  Near  by 
stood  Pilate's  Judgment  Hall,  which  stood 
at  the  head  of  the  Via  Dolorosa,  a  narrow, 
crooked  street  along  which  it  is  said  our 
Saviour  was  led,  after  His  trial,  to  the 
place  of  crucifixion.  Passing  around  the 
Temple  Area,  we  left  the  city  through 
Zion  Gate,  in  the  south  wall.  Here 
Abraham  showed  us  the  house  of  Caia- 
phas  and  the  tomb  of  David.  In  an 
upper  room  of  the  latter  is  the  traditional 


106 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


place  of  the  Last  Supper.  Through  a 
barred  doorway  we  looked  down  into  a 
vault  where  David's  body  had  been  laid 
away.  The  Moslem  sacredly  guards  the 
entrance.  On  the  hillside  near  by,  a 
ploughman  was  turning  over  the  soil  with 
his  primitive  plough,  reminding  us  of  the 
prophecy  concerning  Mount  Zion. 

"A  donkey  ride  around  the  walls  is  the 
programme  for  to-day,"  was  Abraham's 
message  for  us  at  the  breakfast  table  next 
morning.  Duly  mounted,  we  skirted  the 
north  wall,  and  at  the  north-east  comer 
descended  into  the  valley  of  Jehosaphat. 
Mount  Olivet  towered  above  us  on  our  left, 
and  nestling  at  its  base  was  the  Garden  of 
Gethsemane.  Past  these  we  rode  on 
through  the  Jews'  burying  ground,  where 
the  tombs  of  Absalom  and  Zachariah  were 
pointed  out.  Along  a  rocky  pathway  on 
the  slope  of  Blount  Ophel  we  made  our 
way.  Groups  of  lepers  were  passed,  and 
the  poor  afflicted  creatures  were  a  pitiable 
sight.  Handless  stumps  of  arms  were 
held  up  before  us,  and  legs  from  which  the 
feet  had  almost  rotted  oft"  were  thrust  out 
from  under  tattered  and  filthy  garments. 
The  guttural  cry  "Baksheesh!  Bak- 
sheesh!" from  diseased  throats  made  us 
turn  away  almost  sick  as  we  tossed  coins 
into  their  laps  and  urged  our  donkeys 
forward.  Down  we  went  until  we  reached 
the  Pool  of  Siloam,  at  the  junction  of  the 
valleys  of  Hinnom  and  Kedron.  East  of 
the  pool  lay  the  village  of  Siloam  and 
above  it  the  Mount  of  Oftence,  where 
Judas  betrayed  our  Lord. 

Following  the  pathway  along  the  north 

slope  of  Hinnom,  the  Tophet  of  Scripture, 

we  joined  the  main 

y.-^  road  to  Hebron,  at 

/"        ''-.  the  south - 

)-'^'^^s~--,        west    cor- 

'   '  '  ^     ner  of  the 


PLOUGHING   ON    OLIVET 


wall.  Owing  to  the  roughness  of  the 
paths  our  progress  had  necessarily  been 
slow,  but  here  our  donkeys  broke  into  a 
brisk  run,  and  we  were  soon  at  our 
hotels. 

Llie  Tomb  of  the  Kings  lies  half  a  mile 
north  of  Damascus  gate,  the  main  en- 
trance through  the  north  wall.  We  passed 
down  a  broad  flight  of  steps,  entering  first 
a  large,  open  court,  whose  walls  bore 
signs  of  having  once  been  highly  orna- 
mented. Creeping  in  through  a  low 
doorway,  we  followed  Abraham  through 
several  passageways.  A  short  distance 
farther  north  lay  the  American  Colony's 
quarters,  a  communistic  settlement  of 
about  one  hundred  and  twenty  persons. 
We  found  them  very  hospitable  and  spent 
many  hours  in  their  pretty  parlours. 

The  most  interesting  underground  cav- 
ities we  saw  were  under  the  city,  and  were 
knowTi  as  Solomon's  Quarries.  A  short 
distance  from  Damascus  Gate  is  a  small 
opening  chiselled  through  the  solid  rock 
that  forms  the  foundation  of  a  part  of  the 
north  wall.  Stooping  low  we  made  our 
way  down  a  few  steps  and  into  a  huge 
cavern.  With  small  lighted  tapers  in  hand 
we  spent  an  hour  traversing  the  passages 
that  led  from  one  cave  to  another.  Here 
and  there  rubbish  had  fallen  through  the 
roof,  letting  in  the  light.  Great  blocks  of 
stone,  quarried  out  for  the  builder,  hung 
from  the  roof  and  walls,  while  others  lay 
upon  the  floor.  It  is  claimed  that  the 
material  for  Solomon's  Temple  and  other 
buildings  of  the  time  was  taken  from  this 
quarr}^  and  carried  along  a  subterranean 
passage,  still  existing,  and  hoisted  to  the 
Temple  Area. 

Just  across  the  way  lies  the  Garden 
Tomb  and  Gordon's  Calvary.  For  six- 
teen hundred  years  the  Church  of  the 
•Holy  Sepulchre  has  been  accepted  by  the 
Christian  world  as  marking  the  place  of 
the  crucifixion,  but  more  than  half  a 
century  ago  General  Gordon  spent  a 
great  deal  of  time  in  study  and  explora- 
tion, and  finally  decided  that  the  place 
lay  -without  the  city  walls.  Many  scholars 
have  since  confirmed  his  views,  and  the 
Protestant  Church  generally  accepts  the 
decision.  We  wished  to  view  the  sacred 
spot  at  closer  range,  but  our  guide  assured 
us  that  we  could  not  enter  the  wall,  as  the 


JERUSALEM    AM)    ITS    EN\  IKUNMKNTS 


107 


Moslems  were  using  the  s])()t  for  a  bury- 
ing ground.  They  luid  Ijuill  the  wall  to 
[)revent  strangers  from  desecrating  the 
|)lace.  The  great  Convention  tent  was 
pitched  a  few  yards  north  of  it,  and  under 
its  shelter  met  the  delegates  who  repre- 
sented the  world's  Sunday-School  work- 
ers. The  World's  Fourth  Sunday-School 
Convention  had  in  attendance  the  most 
unique  com{)any  of  individuals  that  ever 
gathered  in  the  interests  of  Christian 
work. 

At    four    o'clock    in    the    afternoon    of 


Our  way  to  the  Mount  was  beset 
with  beggars.  "Baksheesh!  Baksheesh!" 
whined  the  miserable  creatures.  Lepers 
were  grouped  altjng  the  roadside,  and  such 
a  picture  of  wretchedness  and  hopeless 
misery  will  not  soon  be  forgotten.  As  we 
tossed  a  metallic  into  their  laps  or  boxes, 
our  hearts  went  out  in  dumb  protest 
against  their  awful  fate.  Reaching  Olivet, 
we  left  our  donkeys  with  our  young  at- 
tendants and  passed  through  the  gateway. 
The  Armenians  have  enclosed  a  consider- 
able   area    bv   a    rude   stone   wall.     We 


PLAIN    OF    MAMRE HEBRON'    IX    THE    DISTANCE. 

THESE    FIELDS 


ABRAHAM    ONCE    CULTIVATED 


April  i6th,  the  little  company  of  eight  ])il- 
grims,  with  their  baskets  on  their  arms, 
started  on  donkeys  for  the  sacred  Mount 
of  Olivet.  Passing  along  the  north  wall 
and  down  the  Kedron  gorge  until  opposite 
the  Golden  Gate,  we  turned  to  our  left 
and,  dismounting,  entered  the  Garden 
of  Gethsemane.  Courteous  Franciscan 
monks  attended  us  as  we  walked  around 
the  paths,  and  laid  a  few  of  the  flowers  in 
our  hands.  We  stood  for  a  moment 
beneath  the  shadows  of  the  traditional 
olive  tree  under  which  our  Saviour  sat  in 
His  moment  of  intensest  asionv. 


seated  ourselves  under  cypress  trees, 
just  at  the  edge  of  a  sudden  descent  on 
the  east  side  of  the  Mount.  A  sea  of 
barren,  dreary  hills  lay  before.  Twenty 
miles  distant  we  could  see  the  plains  of 
Jericho  and  a  dark  line  marked  the  trees 
fringing  the  River  Jordan,  while  olive 
orchards  relieved  the  immediate  landscape. 
Just  behind  us  was  the  place  of  the  Ascen- 
sion, and  all  around  was  replete  with 
sacred  memories.  Pausing  for  a  moment 
on  the  western  slope,  we  watched  the 
sun's  rays  glinting  over  the  domes,  min- 
arets and  white-roofed  buildings  of  the 


108 


THE   CANADIAN   IMAGAZINE 


city,  and  the  words  of  our  Lord,  doubtless 
said  upon  the  very  spot,  came  to  us: 

"O,  Jerusalem!  Jerusalem!  thou  that 
killest  the  prophets  and  stonest  them  which 
are  sent  unto  thee,  how  often  would  I  have 
gathered  thy  children  together,  even  as  a 
hen  gathereth  her  chickens  under  her 
wings,  and  ye  would  not!" 

A  drive  to  the  Jordan  had  been  planned 
for  the  morrow.  We  were  to  start  early 
and  the  drive  would  occupy  a  day  and  a 
half.  Bethany,  on  the  slope  of  Olivet, 
was  first  visited.  Our  drivers  drove  fur- 
iously and  at  times  caused  much  concern, 
but  fortunately  no  serious  accident  oc- 
curred. We  stopped  to  rest  and  feed  the 
horses  at  the  Inn  of  the  Good  Samaritan. 
An  occasional  train  of  camels,  laden  with 
coal  from  the  country  beyond  the  Jordan; 
groups  of  Russian  pilgrims,  returning  to 
the  city;  a  herdsman  with  his  flock  in  a 
small  green  valley,  or  away  on  some  dis- 
tant hillside,  were  the  only  signs  of  life. 
Standing  on  a  slight  eminence  by  the  road- 
side we  looked  do^\^l  into  the  dry  brook 
Cherith,  where  God  had  cared  for  Elijah, 
and  looking  at  the  sterile  hills,  we  knew 
that  nothing  short  of  a  miracle  could  have 
sustained  life  in  that  region.  The  cliffs 
are  honeycombed  with  caves,  where  a 
tribe  of  Bedouins  live,  known  as  the 
Ravens.  Descending  into  the  valley,  we 
were  in  old  Gilgal,  and  we  had  just  time 
to  visit  Elisha's  Fountain  before  luncheon. 
Here  we  drank  of  the  sweet  waters  that 
in  Elisha's  time  had  been  so  bitter. 

An  eight  mile  drive  over  the  sandy 
plains  brought  us  to  the  Dead  Sea. 
Bronzed  and  stalwart  Bedouin  chiefs, 
mounted  and  armed,  dashed  to  and  fro 
over  the  plains  like  scouting  parties.  We 
watched  them  curiously  and  enquired 
their  mission. 

"Why,"  said  our  dragoman,  "didn't 
you  know  they  have  come  with  us  from 
Jerusalem?  They  were  hired  to  protect 
us  from  robbers."  He  dropped  his  voice 
as  one  of  the  warlike-looking  fellows 
dashed  past.  "Yes,  and  you  know  that 
if  they  hadn't  been  hired  to  protect  they 
would  have  raided  us  and  perhaps  killed 
somebody."  We  wanted  to  laugh,  but 
our  guide  looked  so  serious  that  we  con- 
cluded it  was  better  not  to  question  his 
statement. 


The  Dead  Sea — rightly  named — lay  be- 
fore us.  It  is  the  most  remarkable  body 
of  water  in  the  world.  No  life  sports  in 
its  waters;  no  sign  of  vegetation  is  seen  on 
its  shores.  Its  waters,  salt  and  bitumin- 
ous, lie  thirteen  hundred  feet  below^  the 
Mediterranean.  On  the  far  side  rose  the 
hills  of  Moab,  and  Nebo's  Peak,  rising 
above  its  fellows,  brought  to  mind  the 
words  of  the  poet : 

"By  Nebo's  lonely  mountain 
On  this  side  Jordan's  wave, 
In  a  vale  in  the  land  of  Moab, 
There  lies  a  lonely  grave." 

It  was  the  grave  of  Moses. 

Six  miles  farther  north  we  came  to  the 
historic  ford  of  the  Jordan.  Here  the 
Israelites  passed  over  on  drj'  land.  Here 
EUsha,  using  Elijah's  mantle,  divided  the 
water;  here  Naaman,  the  leper,  dipped 
seven  times  in  the  sacred  waters  and  was 
healed,  and  here,  too,  came  Jesus  to  be 
baptised  of  John.  It  was  disappointing 
to  see  the  waters  so  murky,  yet  it  was  the 
Jordan,  and  we  thought  of  many  sacred 
things  as  we  stood  on  its  banks.  We 
spent  the  night  in  Gilgal,  and  for  a  part 
of  the  evening's  entertainment  watched  a 
Bedouin  dance.  The  sun  was  lighting 
up  the  hills  of  Moab  when  we  started  on 
our  return  trip  to  Jerusalem  the  next 
morning. 

The  following  day  we  journeyed  to 
Hebron,  taking  less  time,  yet  perhaps, 
with  less  comfort,  than  when  the  patriarch 
Abraham  had  journeyed  hither,  four 
thousand  years  before.  Rachel's  Tomb 
stood  by  the  wayside,  four  miles  from 
Jerusalem,  and  a  mile  and  a  half  farther 
on  lay  the  upland  town  of  Bethlehem. 
Before  beginning  the  ascent  our  guide  re- 
peated to  us  the  pretty  ston,'  of  Ruth,  the 
Moabitess,  and  pointed  out  the  field 
where  she  gleaned  under  the  admiring  eye 
of  Boaz.  From  the  stone-flagged  court- 
yard before  the  Church  of  the  Nativity, 
we  looked  upon  the  grassy  plains  where 
their  great  grandson  David  tended  his 
flocks.  Centuries  later  shepherds,  on  the 
same  plains,  heard  that  heavenly  chorus : 
"Peace  on  earth,  good-will  to  men," 
heralding  the  earthly  advent  of  the  Son  of 
God.  In  a  grotto  underneath  the  church 
a  silver  star  marks  the  place  of  the  Sav- 
iour's birth.   , 


THE    PASSAGE 


109 


A  few  miles  from  Bethlehem  we  came 
to  Solomon's  Pools,  three  immense  reser- 
voirs that  once  formed  the  base  of  the 
water  supply  for  the  temple.  Fourteen 
miles  of  stone  aqueducts  carried  the  water 
to  the  city. 

''For  centuries  these  pools  have  been 
out  of  repair,"  our  guide  informed  us, 
"but  five  years  ago  the  Turkish  Govern- 
ment repaired  them  and  laid  iron  i)ipes  to 
the  city." 

Around  these  pools  once  bloomed  the 
magnificent  gardens  of  Solomon.  To- 
day, heaps  of  ruins  and  brilliant  wild 
flowers  dot  the  grassy  slopes.  We  reached 
Hebron  about  noon.  Four  thousand 
years  ago  Abraham  chose  this  hill  countr}- 
for  his  home  and  purchased  the  Cave  of 
Machpelah  for  a  family  vault.  For  seven 
years  Hebron  had  been  the  seat  of  David's 
empire,  and  in  the  valley  Eshcol,  near  by, 
the  men  sent  by  Joshua  to  spy  out  the 
land,    gathered    the    huge    bunches    of 


grapes  that  told  to  Israel's  leader  the 
richness  of  the  land.  Hebron  was  one  of 
the  cities  of  refuge,  and  is  one  of  the  oldest 
towns  of  which  we  have  any  record.  There 
is  now  in  operation  a  large  tanner)'  which 
supplies  all  Palestine  with  goat-skin  bot- 
tles. A  second  industry  is  the  manufac- 
turing of  glass  vessels  and  ornaments. 
Bracelets,  hot  from  the  furnace,  were 
dropped,  in  exchange  for  a  Hberal  bak- 
sheesh, into  our  satchels,  but  the  workmen 
claimed  that  they  had  not  received  suffi- 
cient remuneration,  and  some  altercation 
arose.  The  wordy  strife  grew  and  our 
guides  advised  us  to  hasten  to  our  car- 
riages. We  needed  no  second  admonition , 
and  left  the  town,  followed  by  impreca- 
tions from  the  fanatical  mob  of  Moham- 
medans and  the  rattle  of  stones  against 
our  carriage  wheels,  which  advised  us 
that  our  stay  could  not  with  safety  have 
been  prolonged. 


The   Passage 

BY   JEAN    BLEWETT 

/^  SOUL  on  God's  high  seas!  the  way  is  strange  and  long, 

Yet  fling  your  pennons  forth,  and  spread  your  canvas  strong; 
For  though  to  mortal  eyes  so  small  a  craft  you  seem, 
The  highest  star  in  heaven  doth  lend  you  guiding  gleam. 

O  Soul  on  God's  high  seas!  look  to  your  course  with  care, 
Fear  most  when  winds  are  kind,  and  skies  are  blue  and  fair; 
Thy  helm  must  sway  at  touch  of  no  w^and  save  thine  own. 
The  Soul  that  sails  on  God's  hisfh  seas  must  sail  alone. 


O  Soul  on  God's  high  seas!  sail  on  with  steady  aim, 
Unmoved  by  winds  of  praise,  untouched  by  seas  of  blame, 
Beyond  the  lonely  ways,  beyond  the  guiding  star 
There  stretches  out  the  golden  strand,  the  harbour  bar. 


~^,^ 


m^  AFUGHT 


Illustrations  by 
Emily  Hand 


;LP.rlEI)LE]fI 


CHAPTER  III 
HEY    started   for   the    Sala- 
mandar's  palace. 

''Have    we    far    to    go?" 
asked  Josh. 

"Xo;  we  shall  be  there  in 
a  minute  or  two.  It  is  only  eight  miles 
distant." 

"Eight  miles  in  a  minute  or  two  I 
You  mean  an  hour  or  two,"  said  Josh. 

"I  mean  what  I  say,"  repHed  the 
Cyclop.  "You  said  you  would  go  like 
a  shot,  and  so  you  shall." 

Josh  longed  for  another  fast  ride,  and 
wondered  what  it  would  be  like  this 
time. 

"You  are  going  by  our  Pop-gun  shute," 
said  the  Cyclop.     "You  must  hold  tight." 

".•Vre  you  coming  too?" 

"Yes.  I  will  follow  you,  but  only  one 
can  shute  at  a  time." 

Thev  had  now  reached  the  brow  of  an 
immense  hill  of  sandstone. 

"You  see  that  thing  there?"  said  the 
Cyclop.  "It  is  a  cradle.  You  must  lie 
down  in  it." 

"Do  vou  take  me  for  a  big  baby?" 
asked  Josh. 

"I  have  told  you  that  I  take  you  for 
a  precious  bright  boy.  But  I  expect  you 
were  a  baby  once.     Now,  lie  down." 

Josh  lay  down  in  the  cradle,  which 
was  made  of  iron. 

"I  don't  fit  ver>'  well,"  he  said. 

"There  is  no  time  for  a  fit.  \Miat  do 
you  want  a  fit  for?     Lie  down." 

Josh  lay  still,  but  his  heart  beat  fast. 
The  Cvclop  wheeled  the  cradle  towards 

110 


the  edge  of  the  hill  and  pushed  it  back- 
wards into  a  round  iron  pipe,  just  large 
enough  to  hold  it.  Then  he  went  to 
the  back  of  the  pipe  and  pulled  a  chain. 
This  drew  the  cradle  further  into  the  pipe. 
Still,  Josh  was  not  frightened,  he  was 
too  excited.  He  only  waited  a  few- 
seconds,  then  he  heard  the  Cyclop  sing 
out: 

"That's  the  way  the  Pop-shute  goes, 
and  pop — goes  the  cradle'." 

Josh  was  sliding  down  the  incline  like 
a  streak  of  lightning.  He  tried  to  open 
his  eyes,  but  had  no  time  before  he  was 
pulled  up  with  a  sudden  jerk.  This  did 
make  him  open  his  eyes,  and  he  found 
two  little  black  dogs  squinting  at  him. 
He  jumped  out  of  the  cradle,  which 
swiftly  returned  up  the  hill,  and  imme- 
diately a  pack  of  little  black  dogs  came 
round  him.  "You  are  horrid  little  ani- 
mals," he  cried,  "and  I  declare  every 
one  of  you  has  a  squint!" 

It  was  quite  true;  all  the  dogs  were 
cross-eyed,  and  snarled  and  yapped  in  a 
most  disagreeable  manner.  One  tried  to 
jump  on  Josh's  shoulder,  but  he  pushed 
it  oft",  saying:  "Xone  of  that!  I  like  a 
jolly  dog,  full  of  fun  and  good  temper, 
but  as  for  having  a  yapping  little  cur 
sitting  on  mv  shoulder,  it  gives  me 
fits." 

At  once  all  the  little  squinting  dogs 
shrunk  away  snarling,  and  the  Cyclop 
came  and  stood  beside  him. 

"I  see  you  have  no  use  for  our  cross- 
eyed dogs,"  he  said.  "  But  lots  of  children 
are  fond  of  keeping  them." 

"WTiat  for?"  said  Josh. 


A    FLIGHT    lO    FLAMELAND 


11 


"It  helps  ihcni  to  he  snappy  and  cross, 
too,"  said  the  Cyclop.  ''Especially  about 
bed-time.  In  fact  .some  children  take 
them  to  bed  with  them." 

"Stupid  kids!"  said  Josh. 

By  this  time  they  had  arrived  near  a 
wonderful  building  made  of  glowing 
crystalline. 

"This  is  the  palace  of  His  Miglit  the 
Mighty  Salamandar,"  said  the  Cyclop. 
"But  you  cannot  go  inside.  If  His 
Mightiness  welcomed  you  in  his  warmest 
manner  you  would  be  turned  into  a 
cinder." 

"I  will  risk  it,"  said  Josh,  going  to- 
wards the  great  door,  out  of  which  sparks 
were  thickly  flying. 

The  Cyclop  seized  him  roughly. 

"No  one  but  the  Mighty  Salamandar 
can  stand  the  heat  of  his  palace.  He  has 
lived  there  for  ever,  and  will  go  on  living 
there  for  evermore." 

"But  I  want  to  see  him,"  said  Josh; 
"that  is  why  I  came  here." 

"You  shall  see  him  at  lunch  time.  He 
expects  you  then.  It  will  be  prepared  in 
the  grill-ground." 

"Are  any  more  fellows  coming?"  asked 
Josh. 

"Ever  so  many  more,"  said  the  Cyclop; 
"the  tables  are  several  miles  long." 

"You  mean  several  feet,  not  miles," 
said  Josh,  grandly. 

"It  is  an  extraordinary  thing  that  you 
always  think  you  know  better  what  I 
mean  than  I  do  myself.  I  said  miles, 
and  I  mean  miles.     Do  you  smoke?" 

"Not  yet,"  said  Josh. 

"You  soon  will,"  said  the  Cyclop. 
"Evervone  smokes,  after  a  time,  in  Flame- 
land."' 

"Pipes?"  asked  Josh. 

"No,  not  pipes." 

"Cigars,  perhaps?" 

"No,  not  cigars." 

"Cigarettes,  I  suppose?"  said  Josh. 

"No,  not  cigarettes." 

"What  then?"  asked  Josh.  "It  must 
be  one  or  the  other." 

"Every  one  smokes  himself"  said  the 
Cyclop,  mysteriously.     "Wait  and  see." 

"What  twaddle!"  said  Josh,  crossly. 
"No  one  can  smoke  himself." 


"J>o  \<)u  happen  to  have  put  one  of 
our  little  dogs  in  your  pocket?"  asked 
the  Cyclop.     "It  .sounds  like  it." 

"No,  I  have  not,"  said  Josh,  crossly. 

"You  get  on  pretty  well  without  one," 
said  the  Cyclop.  "You  manage  to  snarl 
pretty  well." 

Josh  laughed  at  that.  He  never  c<;uld 
be  cross  long.  "  I  am  getting  rather  warm 
I  fancy,"  he  said.  "I  wish  His  Mighty 
Mightiness  would  hurry  up." 

As  he  spoke  the  heavy  doors  of  the 
palace  burst  open.  For  se\eral  seconds 
Josh  saw  only  rolling  clouds  of  smoke, 
but  as  these  cleared  off  he  gazed  in  aston- 
ishment at  sight  of  the  Burning  Being 
which  met  his  view. 

His  height  was  enormous.  His  body 
was  flat  and  broad,  covered  with  scaled 
skin,  the  colour  of  burnished  copper.  He 
had  seven  heads  on  seven  necks,  and  the 
hair  of  his  heads  w-as  yellow,  and  stood 
ujj  like  flames  of  fire.  He  had  fourteen 
glittering  eyes,  and  fourteen  ears.  His 
seven  mouths  had  fourteen  rows  of  sharp 
teeth  like  iron  nails.  He  had  only  seven 
noses.  His  fourteen  arms  had  fourteen 
hands,  and  on  the  hands  were  twenty- 
eight  thumbs,  and  one  hundred  and  twelve 
fingers.  He  had  fourteen  feet  on  four- 
teen legs,  and  one  hundred  and  forty  toes. 
At  his  back  was  an  immensely  long  tail, 
narrowing  towards  the  end,  and  to  save 
trouble  he  twisted  the  tail  into  a  huge 
knot,  on  which  he  sat,  instead  of  carrying 
a  camp-stool  or  a  garden-chair.  As  he 
approached  sparks  were  flying  from  him 
in  every  direction. 

"Like  a  blooming  bonfire,"  said  Josh 
to  himself,  "or  a  jolly  old  firework  show. 
Must  I  shake  hands  with  him  ?"  he  asked 
the  Cyclop. 

"Yes,"  he  rephed. 

"Which  hand?"  asked  Josh. 

"The  right  one,"  said  the  Cyclop. 

"Which  does  he  call  his  right  hand?" 

"It  depends  which  one  is  left,"  said 
the  Cyclop.  "If  he  only  gives  you  one 
to  shake  all  the  others  are  left." 

Josh  had  no  time  to  argue  this  out  be- 
fore the  Salamandar  stood  still  and  seemed 
about  to  speak,  but — he  sneezed. 

It  was  indeed  a  sneeze!     Seven  sneezes 


112 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


"Must  I  shake  hands  with  him?"  asked  Josh 
Dravm  by  Emily  Hand 

rolled  into  one  gigantic  sneeze  from  seven  "What  concert?"  asked  Josh, 

gigantic  mouths.  "Our    Grand    Flare-up    Concert,   but, 

"Influenzal"  said    Josh   promj^tly.  hush!  he  is  going  to  speak." 

"I  hope  not,"  said  the  Cyclop,  "or  he 

will  not  be  able  to  sing  at  the  concert."  In  vain  Josh  tried  to  understand  what 


A   FLIGHT   TO    FLAMELAND 


113 


the  Salamandar  said,  as  each  of  his  seven 
heads  chose  a  different  thing  to  talk  of. 
When  the  talking  ceased  Josh  could  only 
think  of  one  word  to  say,  and  he  said  it. 

"Conversazione!"  he  shouted. 

The  Salamandar  smiled  all  over  his 
seven  faces,  and  clapped  his  fourteen 
hands. 

"He  likes  you,"  said  the  Cyclop. 
"Look,  he  beckons  you  to  follow  him." 

The  Salamandar  turned  himselves,  and 
Josh  followed,  keeping  as  far  as  possible 
from  the  sparks  which  sparked  incessantly 
from  the  monster. 

At  last  they  came  to  the  grill-ground, 
and  the  Salamandar  stood  still. 

"Keep  behind  him,"  said  the  Cyclop. 

"Though  nothing  really  puts  him  out, 
he  is  a  scorcher  to  flare,  and  something 
has  gone  wrong  with  the  gridirons." 

"What  are  twice  one?"  demanded  the 
Salamandar  in  his  seven  loudest  voices. 

"He  is  asking  for  the  tables,"  whis- 
pered the  Cyclop.  "When  he  once  be- 
gins he  goes  on  till  twelve  times.  I  am 
afraid  there  will  be  no  lunch  to-day." 

"Why  not?"  asked  Josh. 

"Because  the  tables  are  forgotten." 

"What  are  twice  two?"  screamed  the 
Salamandar. 

Josh  could  stand  it  no  longer;  he  ran 
and  stood  before  the  mighty  monster  and 
shouted:    "I  know  all  about  the  tables." 

He  almost  wished  he  had  not  spoken, 
for  the  Salamandar  held  out  seven  hands 
to  him  and  he  did  not  know  which  to 
shake  first.  But  he  grasped  one,  and  much 
to  his  delight  he  found  it  was  the  right 
one,  for  he  saw  all  the  others  were  left. 

Never  had  he  received  such  a  warm 
hand-shake.  It  was  warm  enough  to  last 
all  his  life. 

"Twos  into  three?"  asked  the  Sala- 
mandar, with  all  his  seven  smiles  smiling. 

"Won't  go,"  said  Josh,  promptly. 
^'Only  one  two  will  go  in  three  and  one 
over." 

The  Salamandar  raised  one  of  his  feet 
and  kicked  Josh  down. 

"Hullo!  I  am  the  one  over,"  he  said, 
as  he  jumped  up  again  laughing.  The 
Salamandar  was  evidently  very  pleased 
at  his  pluck,  for  he  tried  to  pat  him  on  the 
head,  but  Josh  dodged  away  from  the 
seven  hands  and  ran  back  to  the  Cyclop. 


"When  is  lunch  coming?"  he  asked. 

"I  tell  you  there  is  something  wrong 
with  the  gridirons  and  the  fires  won't 
burn.  I  expect,  as  usual.  His  Mighty 
Mightiness's  party  will  end  in  smoke." 

"A  cheap  way  of  giving  parties,"  said 
Josh.     "What  are  we  to  do  now?" 

"Wait  and  see  what  he  wishes.  Per- 
haps he  will  have  a  performance  of  the 
match-top  dance." 

"That  will  be  a  spree!  May  I  dance, 
too?" 

"Certainly,  if  you  can." 

"If  I  can?  Of  course  I  can.  Any 
chap  can  dance." 

The  Cyclop  smiled  and  said  nothing. 

The  Salamandar  had  now  sat  down  on 
his  tail  with  his  fourteen  hands  on  his 
fourteen  knees,  and  screwing  up  his  seven 
mouths  he  began  to  whistle. 

" I  thought  so,"  said  the  Cyclop.  "You 
are  going  to  see  the  match-top  dance." 

Gradually  the  Salamandar  whistled 
more  loudly,  till  the  sound  was  Hke  an 
organ  and  it  seemed  as  if  it  must  reach 
to  the  end  of  the  world.  Suddenly 
he  changed  the  tune  to  one  in  quick 
time. 

"Here  come  the  dancers,"  said  the 
Cyclop. 

"It  is  getting  dark,"  said  Josh. 

"The  dance  is  better  in  the  dark,"  said 
the  Cyclop. 

Soon  all  was  darkness  except  the  Sala- 
mandar, who  never  ceased  sending  out 
sparks  and  whistling.  Then  Josh  saw 
hundreds  of  beings  coming  through  the 
darkness.  They  appeared  like  ghosts, 
and  as  they  came  nearer  he  saw  they  were 
not  substantial,  but  figures  of  bright  shin- 
ing clouds.  They  waved  their  arms  as 
they  danced,  and  sometimes  they  were 
thin  and  tall,  and  again  short  and  broad. 
At  times  they  were  so  tall  their  heads  dis- 
appeared, but  when  they  came  to  the 
ground  again  they  lay  down  and  were  level 
with  it.  All  the  while  they  shone  with  a 
strange  yellowish  blue  brightness. 

"It  is  jolly  pretty,"  said  Josh,  "^^^ly 
is  it  called  the  match-top." 

"Because  they  are  phosphorous  or  sul- 
phur spirits,"  said  the  Cyclop,  and  was 
going  to  say  more  about  them  when,  with- 
out a  word  of  warning,  Josh  darted  in 


114 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


amongst  the  dancers.     In  vain  he  called 
on  him  to  come  back. 

"WTiat  a  cheeky  boy  he  is!  His  Ma- 
jesty will  be  furious." 

But  there  was  no  doubt  the  Salamandar 
had  taken  a  great  fancy  to  Josh,  for  when 
he  saw  him  in  the  midst  of  the  dancers,  he 
whistled  more  loudly  and  quickly.  Josh 
capered  and  pranced  madly  while  the 
spirits  circled  and  wreathed  round  him. 
Faster  and  faster  they  went  till,  with  a  last 
wild  shout,  Josh  sprang  into  the  air  and 
then  fell  on  the  ground  utterly  exhausted. 

"Firebrandy  hot,"  screamed  the  Sala- 
mandar with  four  loud  voices,  while  with 
the  other  three  he  thundered  loudly  for 
"  Gunpowder-tea,"  which  they  gave  him. 
Josh  never  knew,  but  it  must  have  been 
very  strong,  for  he  quickly  fell  asleep,  feel- 
ing happier  than  he  had  ever  been  in  his 
life  before. 

U 

CHAPTER  IV 

HE  wakened  gradually,  to  find  himself 
being  carried,  and  by  the  time  he 
was  wideawake,  he  saw  he  was  in  quite  a 
different  part  of  Flameland.  He  was  also 
pleased  to  see  that  one  of  the  Cyclops  who 
carried  him  was  his  first  one-eyed  friend. 

"We  have  brought  you  to  our  Concert 
Crater,"  he  said.  "We  have  the  Irrup- 
tion Concert  first,  and  end  with  our  grand 
Flare-up.  That  will  astonish  you  a  bit, 
my  bright  boy." 

Josh  smiled  a  superior  smile,  as  if  to 
say  nothing  could  astonish  him,  and  as 
thev  set  him  down  he  looked  round  what 


they  called  the  Concert  Crater.  It  was 
such  a  large  and  spreading  place  that  he 
could  see  no  end  to  it.  Running  about  in 
every  direction  were  fiinny  little  creatures, 
black  as  coal,  with  heads  shaped  like  a 
goUiwog's,  but  their  eyes  went  right 
through  their  flat  heads,  so  that  they  could 
see  both  ways  at  once,  behind  and  before 
them,  and  the  eyes  were  bright  sapphire 
blue.  Josh  caught  one  of  the  little  crea- 
tures and  held  him  fast. 

"You  are  a  droll  imp,"  he  said.  "WTiat 
do  you  call  yourself?" 

"Salam,"  said  the  imp,  as  he  ^^Tiggled 
out  of  his  clutch. 

He  caught  another  and  asked  the  same 
question. 

"Salam,"  said  the  imp,  and  also  ran 
away.  Then  Josh  saw  they  were  all  busy 
lighting  hundreds  of  fires,  and  beside  each 
fire  stood  a  cauldron  or  large  pot,  ready 
to  be  placed  on  the  fires. 

"What  are  they  cooking?"  asked  Josh. 

"  Lava,"  said  the  Cyclop. 

"Is  it  good  to  eat?" 

"Tr}^  if  you  like  it,"  said  the  Cyclop. 

Josh  lifted  his  helmet  and  put  a  piece 
of  lava  in  his  mouth.  He  expected  to 
find  it  like  candy,  so  put  quite  a  large 
piece  in.  He  wished  he  had  not,  for  he 
had  to  splutter  a  great  deal  to  get  rid  of  it. 

"I  shall  make  you  eat  some  of  it,"  he 
said  to  the  Cyclop,  taking  a  piece  and 
going  towards  him,  and  no  doubt  there 
would  have  been  a  struggle  between  them 
if  something  ver}-  extraordinary^  had  not 
happened. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  blast  of  trumpets, 


"When  hundreds  of  ceoks  beat  kettle-drums 


A   FLIGHT   TO   FLAMELAND 


115 


and  Josh  saw  a  tremendous  crowd  ap- 
proaching led  by  a  band.  The  trumpets 
were  ]jlayed  by  long,  thin  men  dressed  in 
white  paper  with  red  paper  collars.  They 
were  all  very  thin,  but  some  were  short 
and  others  tall,  with  spindle  legs  and 
curious  twisted  feet  in  paper  shoes. 

Josh  thought  they  looked  like  walking- 
fireworks,  and  told  the  Cyclop  the  im- 
pression they  made  on  him. 

"Right  you  are,  bright  boy,"  said  he. 
"It  is  our  squib-cracker-rocket  band. 
The  blasts  of  their  trumpets  and  flare  of 
their  horns  are  noted  in  Flameland  and 
they  play  set-pieces  at  the  concerts.  They 
also  accompany  His  Mighty  Mightiness's 
songs.     See,  he  comes." 

The  scorching  Salamandar  was  march- 
ing with  the  music,  and  behind  him 
marched  everybody  who  lived  in  Flame- 
land,  including  all  the  cooks.  Evidently 
everyone  had  a  holiday. 

"Are  there  any  drums?"  asked  Josh. 
"I  would  hke  to  play  a  drum." 

"Of  course  there  are  drums.  Don't 
you  hear  the  cooks  playing  their  kettle- 
drums?" 

As  they  came  nearer,  Josh  wished  he 
could  not  hear.  When  hundreds  of  cooks 
play  kettle-drums  there  is  no  time  to  hear 
anything  else.  In  front  of  the  cooks 
marched  one  alone,  holding  up  a  huge 
kettle  with  a  wreath  of  sunflowers  round 
it;  it  was  evidently  considered  rare  and 
beautiful. 

"What  is  wrong  with  the. lonely  cook?" 
asked  Josh.  "Why  does  he  make  such  a 
show  of  his  dressed-up  kettle?" 

"That  is  the  much    talked  of  'Pretty 


Kettle  of  Fish,'  often  mentioned  in  his- 
tory," said  the  Cyclop. 

"What  a  silly  old  fusser!"  said  Josh. 
"I  am  half  a  mind  to  upset  it  over  his 
silly  old  head." 

"Do  so  if  you  like,"  said  the  Cyclop. 
"But  you  will  offend  His  Majesty  and  spoil 
the  concert." 

"What  time  does  it  begin  ?"  asked  Josh. 

"In  double-quick  time,"  said  the  Cy- 
clop; "when  nobody  is  expecting  it." 

"How  jolly!"  said  Josh.  "Then  there 
are  no  programmes.  I  hate  programmes. 
Are  there  any  comic  songs?" 

"Yes,  and  His  Majesty  ends  up  with  a 
break-down.     It  will  make  you  laugh." 

"I  can  dance  a  break-down,"  said  Josh. 

"You  can  if  you  like,"  said  the  Cyclop. 
"I  forgot  to  tell  you  it  is  a  smoking  con- 
cert. You  will  have  to  smoke  whether 
you  Uke  it  or  not." 

Josh  was  very  impatient  for  the  concert 
to  begin,  and  was  glad  to  see  the  Sala- 
mandar had  sat  down  on  his  tail  with  the 
fire-work  band  all  round  him.  The  rest 
of  the  crowd  found  places  as  near  as  pos- 
sible. The  Httle  black  imps  had  put  their 
cauldrons  on  the  fires  and  were  stirring 
the  lava.  It  bubbled  and  squeaked  and 
smoked  red-hot.  The  noise  when  the 
band  tuned  up  and  the  Salamandar  cleared 
his  seven  throats,  and  the  cooks  tried  their 
kettle-drums,  and  the  crowd  talked  loudly, 
made  Josh  wonder  if  there  could  be  any 
noises  left  for  other  places. 

"Do  you  Hke  it?"  asked  the  Cyclop. 

"I  have  not  begun  to  be  fond  of  it  yet," 
said  Josh.     "  WTiat  are  they  waiting  for  ?  " 

"The  conductor,  of  course,"  said  the 


IV:' 


there  is  no  time  to  hear  anything  else" 


116 


THE    CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


Cyclop.  "We  expect  Lightning,  our  fa- 
mous conductor.  He  keeps  them  in  order 
a  bit." 

"I  could  play  a  big  drum,"  said  Josh, 
anxious  to  take  part  in  the  concert. 

"You  can  if  you  like,"  repeated  the 
Cyclop.  "They  will  come  along  soon. 
You  won't  mind  if  your  drum  bursts  with 
a  bang,  will  you?" 

"Not  a  bit,  but  why  should  it  burst?" 

"Because  our  best  drums  are  filled  with 
petroleum  and  dynamite;  but  you  will 
get  used  to  them." 

Josh  longed  to  begin  playing  a  drum,  it 
was  so  dull  doing  nothing,  while  everyone 
else  was  so  busy.  He  had  just  decided  to 
have  his  joke  and  tip  over  the  "Pretty 
Kettle  of  Fish,"  when  there  was  another 
blast  of  trumpets,  and  the  conductor  sud- 
denly appeared  riding  on  an  electric 
motor.  He  was  a  thin,  sharp  person,  but 
evidently  thought  himself  very  important. 
As  he  took  up  his  position  he  bowed  to  the 
mighty  Salamandar,  who  was  fuming  and 
fussing,  and  sending  out  showers  of  sparks 
faster  than  ever. 

"His  Majesty  is  preparing  to  sing," 
said  the  Cyclop. 

Jo.sh  could  think  of  nothing  but  pla}ing 
the  drums  and  was  watching  eagerly  for 
them  to  appear. 

Soon  a  terrific  rumbhng  noise  was 
heard  in  the  distance. 

"There  are  the  drums  coming,"  said 
the  Cyclop.  "They  are  not  far  off,  only 
about  I, GOO  miles." 

"You  are  a  silly  one-eyed  duffer,"  said 
Josh.  "You  don't  mean  a  thousand 
miles,  I  am  sure." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  Cyclop,  cheer- 
fully. "Of  course  you  know  best  what 
everyone  means,  because  you  think  your- 
self even  a  brighter  boy  than  you  are." 

"O  hush  up!"  said  Josh  crossly.  He 
was  getting  warmer  and  warmer  every 
minute.  His  head  felt  six  times  too  large 
for  its  skin,  and  he  almost  tore  off  his 
helmet  in  his  excitement. 

Again  the  terrible  rumbling  was  heard, 
nearer  this  time,  and  the  conductor  held 
up  a  wand,  which  he  waved  in  a  zig-zag 
fashion,  so  that  it  flashed  like  lightning  in 
double-quick  time.  The  trumpets  blared 
and  blasted  and  the  horns  flared,  and 
then — then  the  Salamandar  began  to  sing. 


Never  as  long  as  he  lives  will  Josh  for- 
get the  Salamandar's  song.  His  low 
notes  reached  to  the  lowest  depths  of  the 
earth  and  made  it  tremble  beyond  any 
trembling  that  ever  had  been  trembled. 
His  top  notes!  Well  his  top  notes  were 
the  tip-toppest-top  notes  that  ever  have 
been  or  ever  will  be  topped.  Then  when 
the  chorus  came  and  every  one  joined  in, 
just  as  the  fancy  struck  him.  Josh  howled. 
He  did  not  know  why  he  howled  or  what 
he  howled,  he  simply  howled  and  looked 
wildl}-  round  for  a  big  drum. 

The  conductor  .flashed  his  wand  and 
between  each  flash  could  be  heard  the 
rumbling  coming  nearer  and  nearer.  The 
coal-black  imps,  looking  sharply  both 
ways  at  once,  stirred  their  fires  for  miles 
round.  The  cauldrons  almost  boiled  over, 
but  were  kept  from  quite  doing  so  by  the 
char-men,  who  threw  cinders  into  them 
just  at  the  moment  they  seemed  to  be 
running  over. 

"  Do  you  like  it  now  ?"  asked  the  Cyclop, 
who  kept  his  crimson  eve  on  Josh. 

"I  shaU— burst,"  cried  Josh;  "I  shall 
go  bang.     Give  me  a  drink  of  cold  water." 

The  Cyclop  laughed.  "Everything  is 
hot  here,"  he  said;  "even  the  cold  water." 

Josh  was  about  to  reply  when  the  con- 
ductor flashed  a  flash  more  vivid  than 
before,  and  at  last  the  big  drums  rolled 
into  sight,  but  so  different  to  what  he  had 
expected. 

"They  are  not  drums  at  all!"  he  said 
hoarsely.  His  throat  was  so  dry,  he 
longed  for  an  ice-cream. 

"Poor  boy!  Poor,  bright  boy,"  said 
the  Cyclop.  "I  fear  you  are  a  little  up- 
set; but  vou  will  be  more  so  before  the 
end." 

"Shut  up!"  whispered  Josh,  faintly. 

He  had  no  wish  to  play  the  drum  now. 
There  had  been  a  slight  lull  in  the  noises 
after  the  drums  were  placed,  but  now 
once  again  they  all  started,  louder  than 
before,  and  the  Salamandar  prepared  to 
sing  his  last  song. 

"Our  grand  Flare-up  comes  with  the 
chorus,"  said  the  Cyclop.  "I  think  you 
had  better  sit  down  on  this." 

Josh  allowed  himself  to  be  led  to  a  seat 
and  plumped  dowTi  on  to  it. 

"You  will  be  all  right,  if  you  sit  tight," 


A    FLIGHT   TO   FLAMELAND 


117 


rhymed  the  Cyclop.  "When  the  chorus 
starts  hold  on  to  the  handles." 

He  showed  him  two  handles  at  the 
sides  of  the  iron  seat,  and  though  Josh 
was  not  at  all  frightened — oh,  dear,  no, 
of  course  not — he  took  hold  of  the  handles 
at  once  and  began  to  wonder  if  the  Fla- 
mingo would  be  waiting  for  him  outside 
when  he  left  Flameland.  He  was  very 
eager  to  be  sure  about  the  Flamingo,  and 
turned  to  ask  the  Cyclop  what  he  thought, 
and  if  he  could  leave  before  the  end  of  the 
concert,  but  to  his  dismay  his  one-eyed 
friend  had  disappeared. 

What  happened  after  that  Josh  cannot 
clearly  remember,  nor  what  the  Sala- 
mandar  sang,  or  if  he  joined  in  the  chorus, 
but  he  does  remember  that  the  conductor 
suddenly  flashed  his  wand  right  in  his 
eyes,  which  bUnded  him.  An  instant 
afterwards  every  fire  flamed  high,  the 
cauldrons  all  boiled  over,  the  trumpets 
blasted,  and  the  kettle-drums  drummed, 

and  the  big  drums  .     Josh  supposes 

they  burst,  but  with  a  howl,  which  he  had 
never  howled  before,  nor  can  repeat,  he 
grasped  the  handles  of  his  seat  as  he  felt 
himself  lifted  suddenlv  and  rising  swiftlv. 


Up,  up,  up  he  went,  as  if  he  were  pushed 
by  thousands  of  burning  hands. 

When  he  opened  his  eyes  he  was  lying 
where  the  Flamnivorous  Flamingo  had 
found  him,  and  strangely  enough  the  great 
bird  was  looking  down  on  him.  Josh 
blinked  at  him.  "How  did  I  get  here?" 
he  asked. 

"I  was  waiting  for  you,"  said  the 
Flamingo.     "Did  you  enjoy  your  visit?" 

"It  was  a  shade  hot,"  said  Josh. 

"Made  your  hair  curl,  eh?"  asked  the 
bird,  twisting  his  neck.  "Tell  us  all  about 
it,  there's  a  good  boy." 

If  there  was  one  thing  Josh  disliked 
more  than  another,  it  was  to  be  called  a 
good  boy.  It  w'as  so  childish.  So  he  rose 
quickly,  said  "shan't"  as  rudely  as  possi- 
ble, and  w^alked  off  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets. 

The  Flamingo  watched  him  a  minute, 
wriggled  his  neck  straight,  then  flew  to 
spread  the  news  of  a  terrific  volcanic 
irruption  in  a  land  far  away. 

Josh  heard  everyone  speaking  of  it  and 
laughed  loudly  at  the  siUy  things  old  wise- 
heads  explained  about  it,  for,  did  not  he 
know  better  than  them  all  what  had  really 
happened,  having  been  to  the  concert  of 
the  ^lightv  Salamandar  King? 


THE   END 


THE    DRAGON 


Worry — the  Disease  of  the  Age 

By  DR.  C.  W.  SALEEBY 

Introduction  to  a  Series  of  Six   Articles 


UR  "being's  end  and  aim" 
is  happiness — not  necessar- 
ily the  material  happiness  of 
the  inebriate  or  the  epicure, 
but  happiness  of  some  kind, 
having  its  highest  form  in  the  spiritual 
exaltation  of  those  rare  souls  who,  in  this 
world  of  shadows  and  half-lights,  have 
seen  a  vision  and  follow  the  gleam.  Thus 
to  worry  is  to  miss  the  purpose  of  one's 
being:  it  is  to  fail — to  fail  for  self,  to  fail 
for  others,  and  it  is  to  fail  gratuitously. 
"It  is  worse  than  a  crime,  it  is  a  blunder"; 
but  the  blunder  is  almost  universal,  and 
is  the  characteristic  symptom  of  an  age 
which — the  laudator  temporis  acti  not- 
withstanding— I  believe  to  be  the  greatest 
in  human  history  hitherto.  To  the  evo- 
lutionist no  other  behef  is  open. 

"What   a    piece   of   work    is   a    man! 

How  noble  in  reason! in 

apprehension  how  Hke  a  god!"  Cer- 
tainly none  has  a  greater  right  to  praise 
him  than  his  greatest  poet.  But  alas, 
how  significant  is  the  change  in  meaning 
of  one  of  Hamlet's  words!  When  Shake- 
speare wrote  "apprehension,"  he  meant 
understanding,  but  to  us,  three  centuries 
later,  the  word  means  worry!  To  worry, 
indeed,  is  human:  my  concern  may  be 
with  my  butcher's  bill  or  with  the  threat- 
ened extinction  of  the  sun;  I  may  worry 
for  myself  or  for  my  child  or  for  my  creed, 
but  worry  it  would  seem,  I  must;  and 
yet  happiness  is  my  being's  end  and  aim. 

Good  and  evil,  we  know,  are  com- 
plementary. To  love  implies  the  possi- 
bility of  hate;  to  look  before  and  after, 
to  anticipate,  to  hope,  imphes  the  possi- 
bility of  fear. 

"Yet  if  we  could  scorn  hate  and  pride 
and  fear,"  we  should  live  upon  a  new 
earth.  And  men  have  scorned  these 
things;  they  have  known  "that  content 
surpassing  wealth,  the  sage  in  meditation 
found,  and  walked  with  inward  glory 
crovv^ned."  The  wise  of  all  ages  have 
been    the    captains    of    their    souls.     Of 

118 


these  wise,  the  wisest  few  have  founded 
great  religions  which — their  substance,  not 
their  form,  accepted — have  redeemed 
many  generations,  and  wiped  the  tears 
from  many  eyes.  Even  pagan  stoicism 
has  some  claim  to  be  counted  with  these. 
In  our  own  time,  as  in  all  preceding 
times,  there  is  necessity,  but  in  our  own 
time  it  is  pre-eminent  necessity,  for  the 
irradiation  amongst  the  peoples  of  that 
fine  temper,  half  philosophic,  half  rehgious, 
half  intellectual,  half  emotional,  half 
rational  acceptance,  half  faith — the  faith 
of  Socrates  that  to  the  good  man  no  evil 
thing  can  happen — the  temper  that  pos- 
sessed the  soul  of  Wordsworth,  who, 
whilst  others  were  distressed,  disheartened; 
at  the  betrayal  of  a  patriot,  addressed 
him  in  these  great  words: 

"There's  not  a  breathing  of  the  common  wind 
That  will  forget  thee;  thou  hast  great  allies; 
Thy  friends  are  exaltations,  agonies, 
And  love,  and  man's  unconquerable  mind." 

In  the  succeeding  articles  it  is  my 
purpose  adequately  to  demonstrate,  if 
possible,  the  importance  of  worry  and  of 
its  acuter  form,  which  we  call  fear;  to 
seek  for  an  analysis  of  its  causes;  and, 
more  especially,  to  discuss  the  means  by 
which  it  has  been  controlled,  cured  or 
transfigured  in  the  past,  and  which,  well 
directed  and  employed,  may  perform  a 
like  service  for  us  and  our  heirs. 

The  wisest  thinkers  of  all  times  have 
seen  that  worry,  apprehension,  and  fear 
condemn  the  many  to  futility,  to  real  or 
imaginary  disease,  to  premature  death, 
to  ever\'thing  that  is  the  negation  of 
abundant  life.  But  it  is  only  quite  lately 
that  the  double  aspect  of  the  importance 
of  worry  has  been  capable  of  due  recog- 
nition. It  is  indeed  easy  to  assert  in  a 
philosophic  way  that  since  it  is  well  to  be 
happy,  it  is  ill  to  fret  or  fear;  but  what 
has  not  been  sufficiently  recognised  is  the 
importance  of  worry,  not  merely  in  itself 
as  implying  the  absence  of  happiness, 
but  as  the  cause  of  ills  far  greater  than 


s 


WORRY— THE    DISEASE    OF   THE   AGE 


119 


itself — the  cause  predisposing  to  disease 
which  would  otherwise  have  been  escaped 
altogether;  the  cause  determining  the 
fatal  issue  of  illnesses  which  would  other- 
wise have  been  recovered  from;  a  potent 
cause,  probably  the  most  important  of  all 
causes  of  sleeplessness;  a  great  con- 
sumer of  the  bodily  energies,  both  directly 
and  by  reason  of  its  effect  upon  sleep. 
This  brief  list  is  very  far  from  exhausting 
or  even  adequately  suggesting  the  physical 
consequences  of  worry.  It  is  quoted 
merely  as  some  indication  of  the  influence 
of  the  mind  upon  the  body,  an  influence 
which  has  always  been  credited,  and 
which  unfortunately  has  given  rise  to 
innumerable  mysticisms  and  superstitions, 
but  which  has  only  lately,  only  indeed 
since  the  destruction  of  materialism 
thirty  years  ago,  been  elevated  to  the  rank 
of  a  scientifically  appraised  truth.  Worry, 
then,  is  not  only  a  disease  in  itself,  it  is 
the  precursor  or  predisposing  cause  of 
many  bodily  diseases,  as  also  of  many 
mental  disorders  of  far  greater  gravity 
than  its  own.  But  this  disease,  hitherto 
deemed  iinworthy  of  serious  consideration, 
is  ncft  only  potent  in  influencing  the 
health  and  happiness  and  accomplish- 
ments of  those  whom  it  affects,  but  those 
whom  it  affects  are  the  entire  community, 
with  very  rare  exceptions.  I  have  said 
that  the  mse  of  all  ages  have  been  the 
captains  of  their  souls — the  masters  of 
their  fate.  But  the  wise  of  any  age  are 
the  minority,  the  numerically  insignifi- 
cant minority.  Very  few  of  us  have 
time  for  reflection,  for  philosophic  medi- 
tation. The  overwhelrning  majority  of 
men  and  women  are  unable,  usually 
through  no  fault  of  their  own,  to  free 
themselves  from  this  ailment — an  ailment 
which,  as  we  shall  see  when  we  come  to 
consider  its  causes,  is  an  all  but  inevitable 
consequence  of  the  supreme  characteristic 
of  the  human  mind,  the  power  of  con- 
templating itself,  the  past  and  the  future. 
This  is  thus  an  ailment  which  plays  a 
more  or  less  malign  part  in  almost  every 
life.  The  variations  of  its  influence  are 
very  wide,  depending  largely  upon  differ- 
ences of  what  we  vaguely  call  tempera- 
ment. But  I  question  whether  there  is 
any  life  in  which  it  does  not  have  some 
say.     One  man   it  may  merely  prevent 


from  the  full  enjoyment  of  his  work  and 
play.  Another  man  it  hurts  rather  in 
interfering  with  the  quality  of  his  work, 
causing  him  to  make  mistakes  due  to 
over-anxiety  or  want  of  sleep.  In  an- 
other case  it  interferes  with  the  sum  total 
of  a  man's  output;  in  yet  another  and 
a  very  frequent  case,  it  interferes  with  his 
domestic  happiness  or  his  sociability, 
making  him  an  irritable  husband  and 
father  and  an  unloved  guest.  But  it 
would  be  absurd  to  attempt  to  discuss 
here  in  detail  the  multitudinous  conse- 
quences of  worry  or  to  insist  upon  their 
many  ramifications.  Merely  I  would  in- 
sist at  the  moment  upon  the  importance 
of  worry,  afterwards  to  be  demonstrated, 
not  so  much  in  the  melancholic  nor  in 
persons  having  vast  responsibilities  nor 
at  the  great  crises  of  life,  but  rather  its 
importance  as  a  common,  constant, 
commonplace  fact,  influencing  body  and 
mind,  in  greater  or  less  degree,  throughout 
the  lives  of  the  ordinary  people  with 
ordinary  affairs,  who  constitute  the  over- 
whelming bulk  of  humanity. 

I  have,  therefore,  deliberately  avoided 
the  more  obvious  of  this  too  logical 
arrangement  which  the  series  might 
display.  I  propose  to  deal  not  first  of  all 
with  the  causes  of  worr\'  and  then  with  its 
consequence  and  cure,  but  first  of  all 
with  its  consequences  and  subsequently 
with  its  cure  and  causes.  This  order, 
however,  may  be  logically  defended;  it 
corresponds  to  the  defining  of  your  sub- 
ject before  you  expatiate  upon  it.  First 
of  all,  we  must  know  what  worn'  is  and 
what  it  signifies  to  human  life;  then,  since 
its  curableness  is  a  matter  of  historv',  we 
must  observe  the  modes  in  which  men 
have  cured  it,  and  consider  how  their 
experience  may  serve  our  o'ttTi  need. 
Lastly,  we  shall  consider  the  more  ab- 
stract problem — a  problem  in  pure  psy- 
chology— of  the  causation  of  worr}'.  From 
some  points  of  view  this  is  the  most  inter- 
esting question  of  aU,  but  it  is  interesting 
only  because  we  know  how  much  worry 
signifies,  and  so  our  discussion  of  it  may 
logically  be  placed  last. 

In  seeking  the  fimdamental,  though  not 
the  only  cure  for  worr\',  our  guide,  I 
believe,  will  be  the  closing  lines,  which  I 
have  quoted,  of  the  sonnet  to  Toussaint 


120 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


L'Ouverture.  Mind  and  body,  as  we 
shall  see,  are  inextricably  one,  and  yet 
are  not  identical.  Primarily,  worry  is 
a  mental  fact,  and  is  to  be  dealt  with  by 
mental,  not  material,  means,  by  dogmas 
rather  than  by  drugs. 

They  must  be  true  dogmas,  else  they 
cannot  survive  the  onslaught  of  "man's 
unconquerable  mind."  Yet  more,  our 
philosophy  must  recognise  that  the  soul 
of  man  has  more  than  its  intellectual 
component;  it  has  "exaltations,  agonies 
and  love."  These,  as  well  as  our  mind, 
our  emotions  as  well  as  our  reason,  are 
our  friends,  if  we  wiU  have  them.  We 
shall  cure  worrv'  neither  at  the  cost  of 
our  intellectual  chastity,  as  by  cozening 
ourselves  to  believe  that  which  we  know 
to  be  untrue,  nor  by  striving  to  eflFect 
our  end  ^vith  the  aid  of  the  dry  light  of 


reason  alone,  casting  scorn  on  the  emotion- 
al nature.  If  we  are  to  live  completely 
and  throw  worry  to  the  dogs,  we  must 
honour  and  recognise  our  complex  nature 
in  its  completeness.  The  stoicisms  have 
failed  because  they  denied  the  emotions, 
and  the  emotionalisms  have  failed  because 
they  were  opposed  to  man's  mind  and 
the  truth  which  it  worships.  The  cures 
that  have  endured,  the  optimisms  that 
have  survived,  are  those  which  have  af- 
fronted no  essential  part  of  human  nature, 
the  sufficient  \indication  for  both  aspects 
of  which,  the  intellectual  and  the  emotional 
— for  the  evolutionist,  at  any  rate — is  the 
fact  of  their  survival,  their  sur\ival  with 
increase,  their  triumph  indeed,  after  the 
supreme  test  imposed  upon  them  for 
countless  ages  by  the  struggle  for  exist- 


FIRST    ARTICLE    IN    JANUARY 


The  British  Civil  Service 

By  H.  LINTON  ECCLES 

The  autho'r  of  this  article  outlines  both  the  faults  and  the  excellences  of  the  British  Civil 
Service,  and  indicates  wherein  it  differs  from  the  system  in  force  in  Canada. 


HE  Civil  Ser\'ice  in  Great 
Britain  is  a  fearful  and  won- 
derful organisation.  It  is 
fearful  because  it  would  need 
a  man  of  strong  moral  cour- 
age and  much  pertinacity  to  change  or 
amend  it ;  wonderful  not  so  much  because 
of  its  principles  as  of  the  way  in  which 
those  principles  are  manipulated.  Still, 
it  is  the  C\\\\  Service,  and  in  the  present 
case  we  have  to  consider  what  it  is  and  not 
what  it  might  be. 

In  comparison  with  the  civil  services  of 
the  two  other  great  English-speaking 
countries,  Canada  and  the  United  States, 
the  balance  of  advantages  rests  with  the 
British  system,  capable  of  improvement 
as  it  undoubtedly  is.  The  principle  of 
open  competition  has  been  more  widely 
adopted  in  Great  Britain,  consequently 
the  display  of  "log-rolling"  appears  quite 
mild  and  inoffensive  compared  with  the 
two    "halves"    of    North    America.     It 


would  be  a  severe  task  on  one's  imagina- 
tion to  picture  a  government  governing 
quite  without  patronage,  therefore  we 
must  needs  add  this  method  of  easy  prefer- 
ence to  the  hst  of  "  necessary  evils,"  and 
not  waste  words  in  deploring  it.  But  all 
e\als  can  be  lessened,  and  the  end  of  good 
government  is  served  when  it  wisely  con- 
trols patronage  instead  of  being  unwisely 
controlled  by  it. 

In  Great  Britain  previous  to  1855,  pat- 
ronage stalked  unchecked  in  all  branches  of 
Government  service.  In  those  days,  if  a 
man  wanted  to  "get  on"  and  incidentally 
reap  a  fat  salary  from  public  money,  it  was 
not  at  all  necessary  that  he  should  be  gifted 
with  any  but  the  most  ordinary  ability. 
He  was  not  required  to  know  the  "ins  and 
outs"  of  Latin,  mathematics,  and  English 
— this  was  mere  "polish"  which  he  could 
afford  to  disregard.  The  one  thing  need- 
ful consisted  in  having  someone  well 
placed — the  higher  the  better — with  the 


THE   BRITISH   CIVIL   SERVICE 


121 


Government  of  the  day;  someone,  say, 
who  was  a  Lord  of  the  Admiralty,  or, 
failing  that,  the  intimate  friend  of  one;  or 
a  member  of  the  inner  council  of  state,  or 
at  least  a  man  to  whom  that  member  was 
under  some  sort  of  obligation.  Then, 
indeed,  might  the  sun  shine!  Of  course, 
many  good  men  and  true  succeeded  in 
getting  over  the  fence — with  more  or  less 
difficulty — and  we  have  handed  down  to 
us  the  historical  spectacle  of  such  men  as 
Nelson  waiting  the  pleasure  of  the  powers 
that  were,  at  each  step  of  their  earlier 
careers,  before  they  could  make  the  ad- 
vance their  talents  and  performance  de- 
manded. The  word  which  officially  de- 
scribed this  system  was  "nomination," 
so  by  nomination,  up  to  1855,  were  all  posi- 
tions in  the  Civil  Service  filled.  There 
was  even  an  examination  to  be  passed — 
one  which  the  twelve-year-old  schoolboy 
of  to-day  would  laugh  at;  but  it  was 
whispered  that  a  man  "in  the  know,"  or 
in  the  counsels  of  someone  else  "in  the 
know,"  might  easily  get  round  this  exam- 
ination by  another  door. 

In  the  year  1855  a  qualifying  examina- 
tion of  a  more  or  less  difficult  nature  was 
introduced,  and  this  held  good  until,  in 
1870,  the  system  of  open  competition  was 
generally   adopted.     The   success   which 
followed  the  introduction  of  this  S3^stem 
was  immediate  and  salutary  in  effect,  as 
will  be  seen  from  the  following  details: 
From  May,  1855,  to  June,  1870,  the  period 
during   which   a   qualifying   examination 
was  made  a  necessary  preliminary  to  ap- 
pointment— there  were   1,504  candidates 
for  37  appointments,  averaging  43  for  each 
appointment.     From  June,  1870,  to  De- 
cember, 1885,  following  the  introduction 
of  open  competition,  there  were  108,400 
competitors     for     14,717     appointments, 
i   averaging  7  for  each  appointment.     Since 
I   1885  the  number  of  competitors  has  in- 
'   creased  with  the  additional  vacancies,  and 
I  the  average  number  of  candidates  for  each 
;  appointment  in  open  competition  is  now 
]  about  eight. 

I  By  an  Order-in-Council,  dated  Febru- 
I  ary  12,  1876,  following  the  report  of  the 
j  Playfair  Commission,  the  Civil  Service 
I  was  split  into  two  divisions,  upper  and 
lower,  and  the  Civil  Service  Commission 
^  assumed    control    over    entrance    to    the 


service.  From  the  first  there  was  evidence 
of  a  good  deal  of  friction  and  dissatisfac- 
tion between  these  two  divisions,  and  the 
men  of  the  "Lower  Division"  found 
plenty  of  cause  for  grumbling  in  the  prefer- 
ential treatment  and  the  privileges  meted 
out  to  those  of  the  "Upper  Division."  At 
last,  in  1886,  a  Royal  Commission  was 
appointed  to  enquire  fully  into  the  working 
of  the  service.  In  the  first  place  the  Com- 
missioners recommended  that  the  disting- 
uishing terms  "Upper"  and  "Lower," 
which  had  become  objectionable  to  mem- 
bers of  the  Lower  Division,  should  be 
altered  to  "First"  and  "Second"  Division 
respectively.  It  was  also  recommended 
that  the  salaries  of  the  First  Division  begin 
at  ;!^2oo  and  rise  to  ;^i,ooo  a  year,  and 
that  those  of  the  Second  Division  begin  at 
;^7o  and  rise  to  ;^35o  a  year.  It  was  thus 
hoped  to  secure  uniformity  in  the  Service, 
and  to  facilitate  transfers  from  one  depart- 
ment to  another.  There  was  an  addi- 
tional proviso  for  a  revision  of  the  pension 
system.  These  recommendations  of  the 
Commission  were  never  completely  adopt- 
ed, and  as  a  consequence  there  has  ever 
since  been  subject  matter  for  grievance  on 
the  part  of  civil  servants,  especially  in  the 
lower  divisions.  The  excellent  principle 
of  uniformity  aimed  at  in  the  report  of  the 
Commission  of  1886  has  not  yet  been  fully 
reaHsed,  but  the  salaries  paid  nowadays 
are  more  in  harmony  with  the  work  of 
each  department  than  they  previously 
were. 

The  Civil  Service  Commission,  called 
into  being  by  the  Order-in-Council  of 
1876,  is  administered  by  two  permanent 
Commissioners,  who  are  appointed  by  the 
First  Lord  of  the  Treasury.  It  is  their 
duty  to  fix  the  regulations  as  to  age, 
health,  and  character  of  candidates,  and 
they  also  arrange  the  different  literary 
examinations  for  the  Home  Civil  Service, 
for  the  Indian  Civil  Service,  and  for  the 
admission  of  students  to  the  Royal  MiU- 
tary  Academy  at  Woolwich  and  the  Royal 
Military  College  at  Sandhurst.  The  In- 
dian branch  of  the  service  is  quite  distinct 
from  the  EngHsh;  it  has  its  own  peculiar 
conditions  and  problems,  and  must  be 
considered  apart  from  the  Home  Service. 
The  examinations  for  the  admission  of 
students  to  the  Royal  Military  Academy 


122 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


and  the  Royal  Military  College  are  ar- 
ranged by  the  Civil  Service  Commission 
for  the  convenience  of  the  military  auth- 
orities, and  do  not  concern  us  here. 

The  best  positions  in  the  English  Cixal 
Service  are,  of  course,  to  be  found  under 
the  heading  of  Class  i,  or  First  Division. 
The  age  limits  for  entrance  are  22  to  24, 
and  the  successful  candidates  are  mostly 
graduates  from  a  university  or  those  who 
have  had  special  advantages  in  the  way  of 
education.  This,  one  is  informed,  is 
desirable  because  Class  i  of  the  service 
must  be  rendered  exclusive,  and  the  suc- 
cessful candidate,  when  he  has  succeeded 
in  overcoming  all  the  obstacles  which  guard 
the  way  of  entrance  to  the  First  Division, 
is  enabled  to  move  in  what  is  really  a  verv- 
superior  grade  of  society.  That  there  are 
other  compensations  will  be  gathered  from 
the  following  scale  of  salaries  attached  to 
some  of  the  principal  offices  where  Class 
I  clerks  are  employed : 

Treasury — ;^2oo,  rising  annually  by 
;;£20  to  £soo;  £-joo  to  £900;  ;^i,ooo  to 
£1,200.  In  addition,  extra  allowances 
are  given,  varying  from  ;;^i5o  to  ;^300  per 
annum. 

CoLONX\L  Office — ;^2oo,  rising  by  ;^2o 
to  ;^Soo;  £700  by  £25  to  £800;  ;^85o  by 
;^5otO;^i,ooo. 

Home  Office — The  same  as  Colonial 
Office  to  ;^8oo;  £900  by  ;^5o  to  ;^i  ,000. 

Local  Goverxment  Board — £150, 
rising  by  ;^i5  to  £300;  ;^3oo  by  £20  to 
;^5oo;    ;^5oo  by  £20  to  ;^6oo;    £625  by 

;^2StO;^800. 

Board  of  Tr.\de — ;;^i5o,  rising  by 
;i^i5  to  £350;  ;^4oo  by  ;^2o  to  ;^6oo; 
;;^65o  by  £25  to  ;^8oo. 

Adshralty — £150,  rising  by  £15  to 
;^30o;  ;^3oo  by  ;^2o  to  ;^5oo;  ;^6oo  by 
£25  to  ;^8oo;  ;;^825  by  ;!^5o  to  ;^i,ooo. 

Post  Office:  Secretary's  Office — 
;£i5o,  rising  by  ;^i5  to  ;^3oo;  ^^300  by 
£20  to  ;£5oo;  £600  by  £2^  to  £800. 

Inlaxd  Revenx'E — £150,  rising  by 
;iSi5  to  ;^3oo;  ;^3oo  by  ;^2o  to  ;^5oo;  ;^6oo 
by  ;^25  to  £700;  ;^725  by  £2^  to  ^^800; 
j^825by;^2  5tO;^9oo. 

War  Office — ;i^i5o,  rising  by  £15  to 
;^40o;  ;£45o  by  £20  to  ;^65o;  ;^7oo  by 
£2S  to  ;/^9oo. 


There  are  further  opportunities  for  a 
First  Division  man — needless  to  say,  with 
influence  at  his  back — in  the  shape  of 
Assistant  Secretaryships,  Permanent  Un- 
der-Secretaryships,  and  Private  Secretary- 
ships, which  carry  additional  salaries 
varying  between  ;^ioo  and  ;^3oo  per 
annum. 

The  bulk  of  the  ordinary  clerical  vacan- 
cies in  pubUc  departments  are  now  filled 
by  Second  Division  (or  Class  ?)  clerks. 
The  age  limits  for  these  appointments  are 
17  and  20,  and  the  salary  attached  to  them 
commences  at  £^0  and  rises  by  ;^5  annual- 
ly to  ;:^ioo,  then  by  £7  los.  to  ^190,  and 
from  ;^i90  by  ;^io  to  £ss^-  When  a 
Second  Division  man's  salary  by  this 
method  reaches  ;^25o,  his  further  advance- 
ment depends  upon  merit  and  not  upon 
seniority.  The  qualifying  examination 
for  appointments  to  the  Second  Division 
is  severe,  and  the  competition  of  candi- 
dates very  keen. 

The  official  regulation  says  that  Second 
Division  clerks  may  be  specially  promoted 
to  the  First  Division  after  eight  years' 
service — the  promotion  presumably  de- 
pending on  the  favourable  recommenda- 
tion of  the  heads  of  departments.  The 
italics  are  quite  justified,  for  careful 
enquiries  have  discovered  the  fact  that 
this  option  of  special  promotion  is  but 
sparingly  exercised  by  the  powers  that 
rule  the  different  departments,  either  to 
the  advantage  of  the  general  body  of 
Second  Division  men  or  of  the  service. 
It  is  unfortunate  that  promotion  from  the 
Second  Division  to  the  First  depends  upon 
the  whim  and  fancy  of  a  higher  official, 
because,  like  every  himian  being,  that 
official  is  bound  to  have  prejudices  and  to 
be  subject  to  the  temptation  to  serve 
someone  whom  he  naturally  enough 
desires  to  see  promoted.  That  is  just  one 
of  those  little  crevices  where  patronage, 
ever  insidious  in  its  application  and 
methods,  creeps  in.  The  remedy,  of 
course,  lies  in  the  direction  of  making 
promotion  dependent  upon  the  judg- 
ment of  not  one  official  only,  but  upon 
two  or  three  independent  officials.  The 
worst  examples  of  the  abuse  of  this  option 
of  promotion  are  seen  in  the  War  Office, 
the  Post  Office,  and  the  Admiralty. 

There  are  considerably  over  three  thou- 


THE   BRITISH   CIVIL   SERVICE 


123 


sand  Second  Division  clerks  employed 
in  the  service,  and  the  great  majority  of 
them  are  distributed  over  the  various 
Government  offices  in  London.  The  Post 
Office  alone,  with  its  various  sub-depart- 
ments, employs  about  half  the  number. 

In  addition  to  the  two  Divisions  of  the 
Civil  Service  already  mentioned,  there  are 
large,  and  in  some  directions  increasing, 
numbers  of  boy  copyists  (boy  clerks), 
abstractors  (or  assistant  clerks),  and 
temporary  clerks  engaged.  There  is  also 
a  growing  number  of  women  employed 
in  the  service,  though  they  are  chiefly  con- 
fined to  the  Post  Office  and  the  Post  Office 
Savings  Bank.  In  London  Post  Offices, 
independently  of  the  Savings  Bank,  there 
are  about  a  thousand  women  clerks, 
telegraphists  and  sorters. 

The  British  Civil  Service  costs  well 
over  twenty  millions  of  pounds  annually. 
A  Parliamentary  return,  issued  in  January, 
1903,  showed  that  the  total  number  of  per- 
sons employed  in  the  Civil  Service  on 
March  13,  1902,  was  107,782,  including 
77,035  employed  in  the  postal  .service,  and 
8,869  in  the  Admiralty.  These  figures 
are  now  largely  increased.  It  is  worthy  of 
notice  that  the  total  number  of  persons  in 
the  Classified  Civil  Service  of  the  United 
States  is  less  than  one  hundred  thousand. 

During  1904  there  were  ninety-seven 
open  competitions  conducted  by  the 
Civil  Service  Commissioners  in  connec- 
tion with  the  Home  Service.  Eight  of 
them  were  of  a  professional  or  technical 
character,  and  the  remaining  eighty-nine 
non-technical.  Of  the  non-technical  com- 
petitions, sixty-four  were  for  appointments 
in  the  Post  Office.  In  twenty-eight  of 
these  sixty-four  examinations,  3,096  fe- 
male candidates  competed  for  349  situa- 
tions, averaging  nearly  nine  for  each  ap- 
pointment, and  in  the  remaining  thirty- 
six  examinations,  there  were  2,512  male 
candidates  for  312  situations,  or  eight  for 
each  appointment.  The  figures  show 
a  slight,  though  apparently  steady,  falling 
off  in  the  number  of  candidates  competing 
for  each  situation  since  1904. 

It  will  readily  be  seen  that  the  principle 
of  open  competition  governing  entrance  to 
the  English  Civil  Service  has  been  abund- 


antly successful  ever  since  it  ^vas  first  put 
into  practice  over  thirty  years  ago.  Cer- 
tainly the  service  gets  the  pick  of  the  can- 
didates, if  the  numbers  who  enter  for  the 
preliminary  examinations  are  any  indica- 
tion. Ijn  fact,  the  Civil  Service  Commis- 
sion has  literally  had  to  defend  itself 
against  the  rush  of  candidates  by  imposing 
more  and  more  restrictions  and  by  stiffen- 
ing the  examinations,  until  it  is  almost 
necessary,  in  order  to  pass  a  popular  ex- 
amination like  that  for  the  Second  Divi- 
sion, to  avail  one's  self  of  the  .services  of  an 
experienced  tutor  for  at  least  twelve  months 
beforehand. 

Here  then  should  Canada  learn  the  first 
step  towards  placing  her  Civil  Service  in  a 
healthy  and  efficient  state.  Appointments 
made  solely  on  the  strength  of  nomination 
are  not,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  the  best 
appointments.  There  must  be  a  trial  of 
strength  between  candidates  for  the  ap- 
pointments, so  that  the  best  may  win. 
The  qualifying  examinations  must  be 
ruled  on  the  principle  of  open  competition, 
and  the  ruling  must  not  be  tinged  or  in- 
fluenced in  any  way  by  politics.  That  is 
the  ideal  to  work  for!  Just  as  a  great  rail- 
road lasts  out  administrations,  so  must  a 
permanent  Civil  Service  outlive  elected 
Governments,  and  what  is  a  Civil  Service 
that  is  not  permanent  but  a  chaos  ?  Just 
as  the  railroad  can  carry  on  its  business 
and  preserve  its  usefulness  quite  independ- 
ently of  the  winds  of  ordinary  political 
doctrines,  so  can  a  Civil  Service  be  organ- 
ised and  carried  on  independently  of 
whatever  party  is  in  power.  In  fact  that 
is  the  only  successful  way  in  which  to 
organise  and  carry  it  on.  In  England,  a 
Civil  Servant  placed  in  a  responsible  posi- 
tion is  expressly  forbidden  to  take  any 
active  or  pubUc  part  in  politics,  and  is 
liable  to  instant  dismissal  on  infringement 
of  this  rule.  This  is  the  principle  which 
should  be  in  operation  in  Canada.  Purge 
the  Civil  Service,  as  far  as  is  humanly 
possible,  of  politics  and  patronage — a 
reform  not  at  all  outside  the  bounds  of 
possibility — and  the  first  great  step  to- 
wards economy  and  efficiency  is  taken. 
Before  anything  else  is  thought  of,  this 
must  be  accomplished. 


Old  Christmas  Customs  in  England 


By  SARAH  A.  TOOLEY 


"England  was  merry  England  when 

Old  Christmas  brought  his  sports  again. 

'Twas  Christmas  broached  the  mightiest  ale, 

'Twas  Christmas  told  the  merriest  tale; 

A  Christmas  gambol  oft  would  cheer 

The  poor  man's  heart  through  half  the  year." 

HILE  the  celebration  of 
Christmas  has  largely  be- 
come a  stereotyped  national 
holiday  at  which  e\'er)^body 
eats  turkey  and  plum  pudding 
and  sends  cards  with  the  season's  greeting, 
there  still  lingers  in  ancient  townships  and 
remote  hamlets  customs  which  survive 
from  the  days  when  each  county  had  its 
separate  dialect  and  usages. 

Hoary  and  classic  Oxford  has  preserved 
in  its  original  form  the  Boar's  Head  Feast, 
an  old  Christmas  custom  of  the  northern 
counties  which  is  celebrated  at  Queen's, 
the  college  founded  by  Robert  de  Egles- 
field,  rector  of  Brough,  in  Westmoreland, 
in  1340,  for  the  benefit  of  scholars  from 
Cumberland  and  Westmoreland. 

Let  us,  in  imagination,  enter  the  old 
oak-panelled  Hall  of  Queen's  College  on 
Christmas  afternoon.  A  huge  fire  blazes 
on  the  hearth,  and  casts  a  cheerful  glow 
over  the  holly-decked  walls  and  the  crowd 
of  townsfolk,  who,  according  to  established 
rule,  are  admitted  to  see  the  celebration. 
All  eyes  are  fixed  on  the  door,  and  there  is 
a  flutter  of  expectancy  when  the  blast  of 
the  trumpet  is  heard  which  heralds  the 
approach  of  the  procession.  First  come 
the  Provost  and  the  Fellows  in  their  black 
gowns,  and  then  the  bearer  of  the  feast 
follows,  holding  aloft  on  a  great  silver  dish 
the  boar's  head  gaily  decked  with  tiny 
banners  and  crowned  with  garlands  of 
bay  and  rosemary.  The  Chaplain  and  the 
choir  boys  follow,  chanting  the  old  carol, 
beginning: 

"The  boar's  head  in  hand  bear  I, 
Bedeck'd  vAxh  bays  and  rosemary; 
And  I  pray  you  my  masters  be  merry, 
Quot  estis  in  convivio. 
Caput  apri  defero 
Reddens  laudes  Domino." 

124 


On  moves  the  stately  procession  to  the 
rhythmic  sound  of  the  carol,  the  chorus, 

"Caput  apri  defero 
Reddens  laudes  Domino," 

swelling  at  the  end  of  each  verse,  until  the 
high  table  at  the  further  end  of  the  Hall  is 
reached,  where  the  Boar's  head  is  set  down 
amidst  a  thrill  of  admiration.  The  Prov- 
ost distributes  the  decorations  amongst 
the  townspeople,  who  now  withdraw, 
while  the  Dons  and  Fellows  sit  down  to 
dine.  Round  goes  the  old  wassail  bowl, 
and  the  wine  tankard,  with  the  useful 
whistle  in  the  handle,  and  the  great  Black 
Jack,  and  the  feast  proceeds  as  it  has  done 
these  500  years,  since  it  was  instituted,  as 
the  legend  goes,  in  honour  of  a  scholar  of 
"Queen's,"  who  killed  a  wild  boar  in  the 
woods  by  thrusting  his  Aristotle  down  its 
throat,  as  he  cried  "Accipe/  Grcecum." 
However,  the  boar's  head  was  honoured 
long  before  the  advent  of  this  valiant 
scholar,  and  is  a  relic  of  a  Scandinavian 
rite  w'hich  took  firm  root  amongst  our 
Saxon  forefathers.  In  the  old  halls  and 
manor  houses'  of  the  northern  counties 
was  the  Boar's  Head  Feast  observed  in 
days  of  yore,  and  the  custom  preserved  at 
Oxford  has  found  followers  in  modern 
times  in  mansions  where  the  owners,  like 
Squire  Bracebridge,  recall  its  celebration 
in  the  noble  old  college  hall  of  their  youth. 
Oxford  has  also  kept  ahve  the  ancient 
carol  service.  This  takes  place  on 
Christmas  Eve  in  Magdalen  College.  At 
eight  o'clock  the  hall  presents  a  gay  and 
festive  appearance,  with  the  burning  logs 
and  Christmas  decorations.  At  the  Fel- 
lows' high  table  at  one  end  of  the  hall 
supper  is  laid  for  the  choir  boys,  who  are 
the  chief  guests  of  the  evening,  and  there 
is  a  giant  Christmas  tree,  sparkling  wdth 
gold  and  silver  bells,  and  lighted  with 
coloured  tapers.  Visitors  from  the  town 
are  admitted  to  view  the  scene,  and  there 
is  always  a  good  gathering  in  the  ladies' 
gallery.  At  the  appointed  hour  the  Presi- 
dent, choir-master,  organist,  and    choris- 


OLD    CHRISTMAS    CUSTOMS   IX    ENGLAND 


125 


ters  procession  into  the  hall,  and  open 
the  ceremony  with  selections  from  the 
"Messiah."  Then  the  boys  sit  down  to 
supper.  Frumety,  the  time-honoured  dish 
of  Yorkshire  at  Christmas  time,  is  passed 
round  in  silver  tureens,  after  which  the 
banquet  proceeds  with  more  substantial 
and,  it  must  be  admitted,  more  popular 
dishes.  At  the  conclusion  of  supper 
the  tree  is  illuminated,  and  the  choris- 
ters, standing  round,  sing  "Many  a 
Carol,  Old  and  Saintly."  The  carol 
singing  continues  until  a  little  before 
twelve  o'clock,  when  the  Adeste  Fideles  is 
rendered  in  Latin  and  followed  by  some 
moments  of  profound  silence.  Then  the 
chimes  which  tell  the  hour  that  ushers 
in  the  Christmas  morn  break  the  stillness 
as  the  bells  clang  out  a  merry  peal  from 
Magdalen  Tower.  The  choristers  raise 
the  triumphant  notes  of  the  Gloria  in  Ex- 
celsis,  and  as  it  ceases  one  hears  "A  Merry 
Christmas,  Sir,"  and  the  President,  raising 
the  old  silver  tankard  to  his  lips,  gives  the 
time-honoured  toast.  There  is  no  Master 
of  the  Revels  or  Lord  of  Misrule  among 
the  stately  Dons,  still,  the  choir  boys  have 
a  merry  time  and  depart,  bearing  gifts  from 
the  Christmas  tree,  while  the  company, 
who,  in  accordance  with  the  old  tradition 
that  all  comers  shall  be  freely  entertained, 
having  partaken  of  mince  pies,  sandwiches, 
and  hot  negus,  wend  their  way  through 
the  stately  old  quadrangle  back  into  twen- 
tieth century  life.  This  festival  was  insti- 
tuted for  the  choir  boys  many  years,  ago  by 
a  patron  of  the  college  who  desired  to 
promote  the  singing  of  carols. 

One  may  mention,  in  passing,  the  an- 
cient candle  socket  preserved  in  the  buttery 
of  St.  John's  College,  Oxford,  which  was 
formerly  used  to  bum  the  Christmas 
candle  on  the  high  table  during  the  twelve 
nights  of  the  festival,  and  was  also  used  at 
the  College  Sealings.  It  is  of  stone,  carved 
and  painted  and  ornamented  with  the  fig- 
ure of  the  Holy  Lamb.  It  is  about  twelve 
inches  high  and  will  hold  a  large  two-inch 
candle.  This  is  a  relic  of  the  times  when 
each  householder  lighted  his  candles  from 
the  great  church  candle.  In  many  country 
places  the  custom  of  Christmas  candles  is 
still  observed  along  with  the  burning  of  the 
yule  log.  At  the  ancient  village  of  Barley, 
in  Hertfordshire,  there  is  a  tract  of  land 


called  "Plough  Candles,"  the  rent  of  which 
went  to  furnish  the  candies  which  were 
kept  burning  before  the  high  altar  in  pre- 
Reformation  times,  from  Christmas  Eve 
until  Twelfth  Day.  After  that  came 
Plough  Monday  when  the  rustics  returned 
to  work. 

Another  nteresting,  though  not  quite  so 
charming  a  survival  occurs  at  Dewsbury  in 
Yorkshire,  w:here  the  Devil's  Knell  is  tolled 
on  Christmas  Eve.  The  custom  was  dis- 
continued for  many  years,  but  was  revived 
by  the  vicar  in  1828,  and  has  continued  to 
the  present  time.  The  bell  is  tolled  the 
same  number  of  times  as  the  year,  viz., 
igo2,  on  the  last  occasion.  The  practice 
is  supposed  to  signify  that  when  Christ  was 
born  the  Devil  died,  hence  the  ringing  of 
his  death  knell.  At  East  Dereham  in 
Norfolk;  Woodchester,  Gloucestershire; 
and  Leigh-upon-Mendip,  Somersetshire, 
muffled  peals  used  to  be  rung  during 
Chri  tmas  week. 

Y^et  ano.her  old  Y^orkshire  custom  must 
be  noted  in  the  "Christmas  Cheers,"  or 
raffles  for  provisions,  which  take  place 
among  the  w^orking  people.  These  prin- 
cipally prevail  in  the  North  Riding.  About 
ten  days  before  Christmas  the  ''Cheers" 
take  place  in  the  public  houses,  where 
geese,  ducks,  turkeys,  bottles  of  gin,  and 
barrels  of  ale  are  raffled  at  a  shilling  a 
"shake."  A  year  or  two  ago,  the  Count- 
ess of  Carlisle  and  Lady  Cecelia  Roberts 
tried  to  suppress  the  ' Christmas  Cheers," 
in  the  interests  of  temperance.  But  the 
Yorkshire  folk  love  their  feasting,  and  the 
"Cheers"  will  die  a  hard  death.  Pleas- 
anter  to  contemplate  is  the  typical  Christ- 
mas E^ve  in  this  ancient  county,  when  the 
yule  "clog"  blazes  on  the  hearth,  the  yule 
candles  are  lighted,  a  yule  cake  is  made  for 
each  member  of  the  family,  and  from 
mansion  to  cottage  is  served  the  time- 
honoured  dish  of  frumety,  while  good 
Yorkshire  pies  are  not  wanting. 

The  Staffordshire  folk  are  a  lively  people, 
and  one  finds  at  the  decayed  market 
town  of  Abbots  Bromley,  about  ten  miles 
from  Stafford,  a  most  interesting  survival 
of  the  Horn  and  Hobby-horse  dancing, 
which  used  to  be  so  generally  observed  in 
the  days  of  JNIerrie  England  at  Christmas 
and  other  festivals.  The  dancing  was 
generally  connected  with  the  church,  and 


126 


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often  began  in  the  church  porch,  and  this 
association  still  prevails  at  Abbots  Brom- 
ley. The  reindeer  antlers,  with  which  the 
dancers  surround  their  heads,  until  each 
man  seems  an  impersonation  of  Heme,  the 
phantom  hunter,  and  the  old  hobby-horse 
are  kept  in  the  parish  church  of  St.  Nicho- 
las, being  deposited  in  the  tower  each  year 
after  the  celebration  of  the  dance,  which 
now,  however,  takes  place  at  the  Wake  on 
the  first  Monday  after  September  ist. 
Still,  though  the  fact  does  not  appear  to  be 
recognised  locally,  so  far  as  my  enquiries 
go,  the  Horn  Dance  was  originally  a 
Christmas  custom,  and  might  for  old 
association's  sake  be  again  re\aved  at  that 
season.  Plot,  in  his  history  of  Staffs, 
1686,  savs:  "Within  memory,  at  Abbots 
or  Pagets  Bromley,  they  had  a  sort  of 
sport  which  they  celebrated  at  Christmas, 
on  New  Year  and  Twelfth  Day,  called  the 
Hobby-horse  Dance  from  a  person  who 
carried  an  image  of  a  horse  between  his 
legs,  made  of  thin  boards,  and  in  his  hands 
a  bow  and  arrow,  which,  passing  through 
a  hole  in  the  bow  and  stopping  upon  a 
shoulder  it  had  in  it,  he  made  a  snapping 
noise  as  he  drew  it  to  and  fro,  keeping 
time  with  the  musick;  with  this,  men 
danced,  six  others  canning  on  their  shoul- 
ders as  many  reindeer  heads,  three  of  them 
painted  white,  with  three  red,  with  the  arms 
of  the  chief  families  (viz.,  Paget,  Bagot 
and  Wells),  to  whom  the  revenues  of  the 
town  chiefly  belonged,  depicted  on  the 
palms  of  them,  with  which  they  danced' 
the  hays  and  other  country  dances."  The 
historian  goes  on  to  describe  a  pot  which 
the  dancers  carried,  and  into  which  they 
received  gifts  of  cake  and  ale,  also  money, 
the  latter  being  used  to  repair  the  church 
and  feed  the  poor.  Such  was  the  original 
Christmas  custom  at  Abbots  Bromley. 

To-day,  the  Horn  Dancers  assemble  on 
the  Wake  ^Monday  at  the  church,  and 
having  arrayed  themselves  in  the  deer 
antlers  and  grotesque  garments  which 
they  receive  from  the  parish  clerk,  they  go 
round  the  village  and  outlying  parts  per- 
forming the  dance.  One  of  the  number 
leads  with  the  hobby-horse,  and  another 
plays  an  accordion.  After  each  perform- 
ance they  send  round  the  hat  and  receive 
a  nice  little  sum  of  money,  which  they 
divide  amongst  themselves.     They  keep 


up  the  dancing  until  nightfall,  when  they 
return  to  the  church  and  deposit  the  horns 
and  hobby-horse  until  the  next  anniversary 
comes  romid. 

A  modem  revival  of  the  Mummers, 
or  old  Christmas  play,  formerly  general 
throughout  the  country,  takes  place  in 
Warwickshire,  where  the  speU  of  "Will 
of  Stratford"  keeps  the  play-acting  spirit 
alive.  Rugby,  and  the  neighbouring  vil- 
lage of  Newbold,  are  the  scenes  of  the 
revived  ]Mummers'  plays,  in  which  the 
time-honoured  fight  between  St.  George 
and  the  Turkish  Knight  takes  place,  with 
the  attendant  drolleries  of  Dr.  Brown, 
and  other  characters.  Mysterious  min- 
strels, I  am  told,  also  parade  the  town  of 
Rugby  at  Christmas,  and  give  much 
pleasure  to  the  people.  In  many  parts  of 
\^'anvickshire,  especially  in  the  houses  of 
the  gentry,  the  ancient  mumming  has  been 
renved  of  late,  and  exhibitions  of  masks 
and  mummers  are  stiU  occasionally  seen 
in  the  farm  kitchens. 

Indeed,  Shakespeare's  "Greenwood"  is 
rich  in  old-lime  customs.  The  festivities 
begin  on  December  21st,  St.  Thomas's 
Day,  when  the  children  go  a-Thomasing 
round  the  hamlets  and  villages,  begging 
gifts  for  Christmas,  and  often  furthering 
their  claims  by  singing  old  carols,  such  as 

' '  Little  cock-robin  sat  on  a  wall — 
We  wish  you  a  merry  Christmas 
And  a  great  snow  ball." 

The  }-ule-log  is  stiU  dragged  in  proces- 
sion from  the  woods  to  stand  in  the  ingle- 
nook  until  the  auspicious  eve,  and  the  great 
melon  or  marrow  decked  with  ribbons 
hangs  from  the  rafters  of  the  farm-house 
parlour  ripening  ready  for  the  festival.  On 
Christmas  Eve,  it  is  prepared  and  stuft'ed 
ready  for  the  table.  The  stuffed  chine  of 
pork  is  another  dish  which  the  Warwick- 
shire housewife  prepares  for  the  season,  as 
also  the  stewed  crab-apples,  which  live  in 
Shakespeare's  verse: 

"WTien  roasted  crabs  hiss  in  the  bowl." 

The  old  people  set  great  store  by  this  dish 
and  offer  it  to  their  friends  in  the  winter 
evenings  when  Christmas  approaches,  and 
on  Christmas  morning  elder  wine  is  drunk 
in  the  rustic  households  with  unfaiUng 
regularity,  a  custom  which  Squire  Cass 
observed  in  "Silas  Mamer." 


OLD   CHRISTMAS    CUSTOMS    IX    ENGLAND 


127 


Kent  was  a  county  noted  for  ''hoden- 
ing,"  or  going  round  with  the  "hodening" 
horse,  a  fearsome  creature  made  of  wood 
with  great  jaws  studded  with  hobnails  for 
teeth.  A  boy  carried  the  head,  having  his 
own  person  concealed  by  a  horsecloth. 
He  held  a  cord  which  worked  the  hinges 
attached  to  the  hideous  jaws  and  made 
them  open  in  a  ferocious  manner;  at  the 
same  time  he  kept  up  as  much  kicking  and 
plunging  as  possible.  Young  men  from 
the  farm  stables  usually  went  round  with 
the  horse,  to  the  terror  of  small  children. 
The  custom  was  kept  up  at  Walmer  and 
Hoath  until  comparatively  recent  times  at 
Christmas,  and  also  at  Sittingbounie. 

Essex  had  its  own  peculiar  custom  of 
wrestling  for  the  boar's  head,  formerly  ob- 
served at  Horn  church,  on  Cliristmas  Day. 
The  lessee  of  the  tithes,  which  belonged  to 
New  College,  Oxford,  used  to  supply  the 
boar's  head  dressed  and  garnished  for  the 
contest,  which  took  place  in  a  field  adjoin- 
ing the  church.  The  boar's  head,  decked 
with  ribbons,  was  elevated  on  a  pole  and 
brought  into  the  ring  to  be  wrestled  for; 
the  prize  being  awarded  to  the  winner. 
The  custom  was  by  ancient  charter,  and 
although  the  practice  has  been  discon- 
tinued, the  bull's  horns  and  head  are  still 
exhibited  on  the  east  end  of  the  chancel  of 
the  church. 

Haxey,  the  ancient  capital  of  the  Island 
of  Axholme,  in  the  Lincolnshire  Fen  coun- 
try, which  the  author  of  "The  MS.  in  a 
Red  Box"  has  rendered  famous,  is  the 
scene,  on  old  Christmas  Day,  of  an  in- 
teresting survival  of  the  custom  called 
"Throwing  the  Hood.''  Li  his  "'History 
of  Axholme,"  Peek  relates  that  the  custom 
was  first  instituted  by  the  daughter  of  one 
of  the  ^lowbrays,  a  landed  family  residing 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  Haxey.  It  chanced 
one  old  Christmas  Day,  that  the  young 
lady  was  out  riding  and  had  her  hood 
blown  off  by  the  wind.  Twelve  men, 
working  in  the  fields,  ran  to  pick  it  up,  and 
their  efforts  aff'orded  Lady  Mowbray  so 
much  merriment,  that  when  at  length  the 
hood  was  captured  she  gave  the  men 
money  and  promised  that  a  piece  of  land 
should  be  vested  in  trustees  for  the  purpose 
of  annually  carrying  out  a  sport  on  old 
Christmas  Day  to  be  called  "  Throwing 
the  Hood."     The  land  consisted  of  fortv 


acres,  and  to-day  bears  the  name  of 
Hoodlands.  Formerly  a  mill  stood  there, 
but  only  the  old  mill-house  remains,  and 
the  field  surrounding  it  is  the  scene  of  the 
quaint  survival 

There  is  locally,  I  find,  another  version 
to  the  eff^ect  that  the  lady  of  the  manor  was 
on  her  way  to  Mass  on  Christmas  morning, 
and  while  crossing  the  mill  field  her  hood 
blew  oft"  and  the  villagers,  also  on  their 
way  to  church,  joined  in  trying  to  recover 
it.  The  wind  blew  the  hood  hither  and 
thither,  and  the  fun  grew  fast  and  furious, 
to  the  amusement  of  the  lady,  who,  after 
the  hood  was  restored,  commanded  that  the 
game  should  be  annually  commemorated, 
and  left  at  her  death  an  endowment  of 
lands  for  the  purpose. 

Haxey  has  most  chivalrously  stood  by 
the  lady's  wish,  and  the  good  townsfolk 
to-day  hunt  the  hood  with  all  the  old-time 
zest  and  observance.  At  three  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  of  old  Christmas  Day,  the 
"  Boggans,"  four  or  six  men  dressed  in  red 
and  having  the  real  hood  and  several  sham 
hoods,  march  in  order  to  the  remains  of  the 
old  stone  cross  by  the  church,  led  by  the 
"fool,"  who  is  dressed  in  rags  stuck  about 
with  birds'  feathers.  Arrived  at  the  cross 
the  fool  mounts  it  and  makes  a  humorous 
speech  to  the  people.  Then  he  leads  the 
way  to  the  field  where  the  "sham"  hoods, 
made  of  red  baize  or  flannel  and  stuffed 
with  sawdust,  are  thrown  amongst  the 
crowd.  Any  one  who  secures  a  hood  and 
escapes  without  being  touched  by  the 
boggans,  stationed  at  the  comers  with 
long  sticks,  runs  down  to  the  village  with 
his  trophy  and  is  entitled  to  free  drinks  at 
any  public  house  he  chooses  to  enter. 

At  four  o'clock  the  real  hood,  which  is 
twenty-five  inches  long,  nine  inches  in 
circumference,  shaped  Uke  an  elongated 
sausage  and  made  of  stout  leather  stuffed 
with  straw,  is  thro\^^l,  and  the  sport  be- 
comes boisterous.  One  end  of  the  hood 
is  seized  by  one  side  of  the  parish  and  the 
other  end  by  the  opposite  side,  and  the 
"sway"  begins,  the  rival  \dllagers  trv'ing 
to  drag  the  trophy  to  their  particular  end 
of  the  parish.  Prudent  folk  put  up  the 
shop  shutters  and  barricade  their  windows, 
as  there  is  no  knowing  to  what  length  the 
sport  may  go,  for  though  the  swayers  are 
not  malicious  in  intention,  the  \ngour  with 


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THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


which'  each  side  strives  for  the  hood,  and 
the  number  of  people  engaged  in  the  strug- 
gle, make  the  affair  rather  dangerous. 
Anyone  standing  in  the  street  is  regarded 
as  legitimate  prey,  and  is  liable  to  be 
dragged  in  o  the  "sway."  Women  and 
children  view  the  scene  from  the  privacy  of 
their  bedroom  windows,  or  if  they  venture 
out  obtain  sanctuary  for  the  time  being 
behind  the  churchyard  wall.  On  this  day 
the  local  laws  are  popularly  supposed  to  be 
suspended,  c  nd  Haxey  runs  the  gauntlet 
of  established  order  in  as  free  and  easy  a 
spirit  as  it  did  in  davs  of  yore,  when  the 
hero  of  the  "MS.  in 'the  Red  Box"  flour- 
ished. If  shutters  are  battered  in  or 
windows  broken,  not  even  the  grim  Earl, 
who  tortm'ed  offenders  on  the  rack  at 
Castle  Musgrave,  were  he  alive  to-day, 
would  venture  to  punish  an  offender  on 
Old  Christmas  Day.  The  present  vicar, 
the  Rev.  H.  Clifford,  tells  me  that  when  he 
first  came  to  Haxey,  his  gard .  ner  insisted 
on  barring  and  bolting  up  every  entrance 
to  the  vicarage  preparatory  to  the  "Hood" 
celebration,  asserting,  as  a  native  of  the 
place,  that  no  damage  for  trespass  could  be 
punished  on  that  day. 

The  game  lasts  till  dusk,  and  the  victors 
bear  the  hood  to  their  part  of  the  parish, 
where  it  remains  for  the  ensuing  year. 
The  evening  closes  with  much  merry- 
making, and  copious  healths  are  drunk  to 
my  Lady  Mowbray,  who  instituted  such 
good  sport.  On  the  following  day  it  used 
to  be  the  custom  for  the  revels  to  be  con- 
tinued at  West  Woodside  by  the  smoking 
of  the  "fool."  A  fire  was  made  of  straw, 
and  the  fool,  fastened  with  a  rope,  was 
swung  to  and  fro  over  the  fumes  until  he 
was  properly  smoked  (or  choked?),  after 
which  he  was  liberated  and  went  round 
with  the  hat. 

Although  the  generally  accepted  origin 
of  Throwing  the  Hood  at  Haxey  is  traced 
to  Lady  Mowbray,  some  antiquarians 
assert  that  the  custom  is  connected  with 
the  ancient  rites  and  ceremonies  of  sun- 
worship.  It  seems,  however,  that  if  such 
were  the  case  the  custom  would  have  been 
observed  in  other  places  besides  Haxey. 

Cornwall  is  a  county  rich  in  folklore  and 
old  traditions,  and  still  retains  distinctive 
Christmas  customs,  several  of  which  are 
associated  with  the  mining  industry.     The 


festival  practically  begins  with  Picrons- 
day,  the  second  Thursday  before  Christ- 
mas, when  the  Cornish  miners  feast  in 
honour  of  St.  Piran  {alias  St.  Kinan),  the 
supposed  discoverer  of  tin.  On  the 
Thursday  before  Christmas  is  observed 
the  feast  of  Chewidden,  in  commemora- 
tion of  the  first  manufacture  of  smelted 
(white)  tin.  The  name  is  Celtic,  and 
signifies  "white  house."  The  factories 
where  the  smelting  is  done  are  always 
spoken  of  as  "houses."  Some  places 
celebrate  one  of  these  days  and  some 
another,  but  Mr.  Thurstan  C.  Peter,  of 
Redruth,  an  authority  and  enthusiast 
regarding  the  customs  and  traditions  of 
his  native  country,  tells  me  that  he  does 
not  know  of  any  place  where  the  two  "tin" 
festivals  are  kept.  It  would  seem  that  in 
some  districts  the  miners  choose  to  honour 
the  discoverer  of  tin  and  in  others  to 
celebrate  the  first  process  of   melting. 

The  Cornish  miners  have  a  superstition 
against  working  underground  on  Christ- 
mas Eve,  because  of  the  tradition  that  on 
that  night  the  fairies  meet  at  the  bottom  of 
the  mines  to  hold  a  Mass  in  celebration 
of  the  birth  of  Christ.  Sounds  of  melodi- 
ous singing  are  alleged  to  have  been  heard. 
This  is  not,  however,  pecuUar  to  Cornwall; 
I  have  known  a  similar  superstition  re- 
peated by  old  miners  in  the  Black  Country. 

Among  other  practices  still  observed  in 
Cornwall  is  Going-a-Gooding  on  Christ- 
mas Eve.  Parties  of  poor  women,  some- 
times as  many  as  twenty-five  in  a  party,  go 
round  from  house  to  house  begging  for 
something  to  celebrate  the  festival.  Money 
is  sometimes  given,  but  more  frequently 
the  "goodys"  return  home  with  gifts  of 
clothing  and  eatables.  The  yule-log,  or 
"mock"  as  it  is  locally  called,  is  still 
dragged  in  triumph  from  the  wood  to 
many  farmhouses  and  country  halls  in 
Cornwall  and  burned  on  Christmas  Eve, 
with  all  the  old  traditions.  The  "mock" 
was  never  supposed  to  be  bought,  and 
those  who  did  not  own  land  obtained  it 
for  the  fetching  from  their  neighbours' 
woods.  A  modern  survival  of  this  custom 
is  the  load  of  firewood  which  many  timber- 
sellers  in  Cornwall  send  to  their  customers 
at  Christmas.  The  pleasant  practice  of 
the  tradespeople  sending  Christmas  boxes 
in  kind  to  their  patrons  still  obtains  in  the. 


OLD    CHRISTMAS    CUSTOMS    L\    EX  GLAND 


129 


county.      One    might   suggest  that    it    is 
worthy  of  being  revived  in  London. 

In  days  gone  by  every  Cornish  house- 
wife provided  "the  Christmas"  for  her 
household.  This  was  a  small  saflfron  and 
currant  cake,  given  on  Christmas  Eve  to 
each  member  of  the  family  and  to  each 
guest,  and  the  custom  w'as  for  everybody 
to  taste  everybody  else's  cake  by  way  of 
good-fellowship.  The  practice  has  gone 
out  of  fashion  for  the  most  part,  but  was 
observed  so  recently  as  last  year  in  some 
cottage  homes  about  Redruth.  Another 
vanishing  custom  is  "  Oiglot  Fair,"  which 


days  gone  by  family  parties  on  Christmas 
Eve  sat  round  the  blazing  "mock"  eating 
the  sjjecial  cakes  already  referred  to,  and 
singing  quaint  carols  far  into  the  night. 
On  Christmas  Day,  carols  took  the  place 
of  psalms  in  the  churches,  and  at  the  end 
of  the  service  the  parish  clerk  in  a  loud 
voice  wished  the  congregation  a  "Happy 
Christmas."  A  few  years  ago  Mr.  Heath, 
organist  at  Redruth,  discovered  a  collection 
of  old  carols  in  MS.  hidden  in  a  chest  in 
the  church.  These  gave  evidence  that 
they  had  been  written  and  set  to  music  by 
some  village  worthies  for  local  use.  Similar 


THE    PROCESSION'   OF   THE   HORN   DANCERS  AT   ABBOTS   BROMLEY 
Pholo  by  A.  W.  Hill,  Abbots  Bromley 


used  to  be  celebrated  with  great  spirit  at 
Launceston  the  week  after  Christmas.  It 
savoured  of  leap  year  customs,  for  every 
one  was  free  to  speak  to  one  of  the  opposite 
sex  without  the  formality  of  an  introduc- 
tion. Chaperones  were  rigidly  excluded 
from  the  fair.  They  have  had  their 
revenge,  however,  for  I  am  told  that  the 
merry-making  which  still  struggles  to 
survive  amongst  the  yoimg  people  is  being 
suppressed  "by  the  better  sense  of  the 
elders,  who  see  the  ill  consequences  which 
too  often  result  from  such  Hberty." 

Carol-singing  is  less  risky,  and  is  ob- 
served  throughout   Cornwall    by   special 
services  in  the  churches  and  chapels.     In 
3 


collections  of  original  carols  were  after- 
wards discovered  in  some  of  the  Devon- 
shire churches,  pointing  to  the  old  custom 
of  districts  and  coimties  ha\'ing  their  own 
special  carols.  The  rh}Tnes  of  the  village 
composers  were  more  curious  than  edify- 
ing, having  been  handed  down  from 
mouth  to  mouth  with  accumulated  corrup- 
tions of  words  and  expressions,  and  are 
still  sung  in  the  country  districts  of  Corn- 
wall. Locally  it  is  called  "curl"  singing. 
The  late  Mr.  Davies  Gilbert  published 
some  of  these  ancient  carols  set  to  music. 

The  Guise-dancing,  which  used  to  be 
observed  in  the  Land's  End  district,  has 
now  degenerated  into  a  romping  game  by 


130 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


TlIE    ASSEMBLY    OI"    UUR.N    DA.XLIiK.-:.    A.\U     lilE    IIUBBV -llUKbK    AT    TllU    CHUKCH    DOOR, 

ABBOTS    BROMLEY 

Photo  by  A    U".  Hill.  Abbots  Bromley 


children,  who  go  round  the  \-illages  and 
smaller  towns  with  whistles,  beating  iron 
tea  trays  and  making  as  many  discordant 
sounds  as  a  "cat's  concert"  would  supply. 
The  police,  not  being  troubled  with  anti- 
quarian sentiments,  suppress  the  "sur- 
vivals" in  the  larger  towns. 

The  ancient  superstition  of  "  wassailing" 
the  apple  trees  on  old  Christmas  Eve  for 
good  luck  is  still  observed  in  a  few  places 
in  East  Cornwall,  but  the  practice  has  sur- 
vived more  generally  in  the  neighbouring 
counties.  In  West  Somerset,  in  the  Bridg- 
water district,  for  example,  wassailing  the 
apple  trees  is  still  observed,  and  has  been 
described  by  \lr.  Walter  Raymond  in 
"Young  Zam  and  Zabina."  The  idea  is 
to  drink  wassail,  which,  according  to  its 
Saxon  derivation,  is  waes-hael  (health  be 
to  you)  to  the  apple  trees  at  the  time  of 
the  winter  solstice,  so  that  they  may  bear 
a  good  crop  of  fruit  in  the  coming  season. 
The  poet  Herrick  has  a  verse: 


"W'assaile  the  trees  that  they  may  beare 
You  many  a  j)lum  and  many  a  peare; 
For  more  or  less  fruits  they  will  Sring 
As  you  do  give  them  wassailing." 

The  custom  is  thus  described  by  a  local 
resident.  On  old  Twelfth  Eve  (Jan.  17) 
a  small  band  of  farm  labourers,  sometimes 
reinforced  with  the  local  blacksmith  or 
carpenter,  pays  a  visit  to  all  the  orchards 
in  the  neighbourhood  to  carry  out  the  old 
custom  of  wassailing. 

The  tour  begins  at  7  p.m.,  when  the  men 
have  left  work.  On  entering  the  orchard 
they  form  a  circle  beneath  the  largest  tree 
and  sing  the  wassail  song,  the  quaint  words 
of  which  have  been  handed  down  orally 
from  father  to  son  for  many  generations. 
The  whole  company  join  in  the  singing. 
Formerly  an  old  musket  was  fired  at  the 
end  of  the  song,  but  of  late  this  part  of  the 
ceremony  is  omitted.  When  the  singing 
ceases  the  owner  of  the  orchard,  whether 
squire  or  farmer,  sends  out  a  bucket  of  hot 


OLD    CHRISTMAS    CUSTOMS    IX    ENGLAND 


131 


t 


THROWING     IHE    HUOU    AT    HAXEY:    THE       FOOL"    MAKING    HIb    SPEECH    AT    THE    ULU    bTONB 
CROSS,    PREPARATORY   TO    THE    THROWING   OF    THE    HOOD 

Photo  by  George  Hammond,  Haxey 


cider  with  toast  floating  on  the  top.  The 
toast  is  placed  on  the  apple  trees  for  the 
robins  to  eat,  while  the  cider  lubricates  the 
throats  of  the  singers.  The  scene  is  a 
curious  and  picturesque  sight  with  the 
rustics  in  their  rough  working  clothes 
standing  beneath  the  bare,  rugged  branches 
of  the  apple  trees,  chanting  their  quaint 
song  by  the  light  of  lanterns;  but  if  the 
moon  shines,  and  there  is  hoar  frost  on  the 
tree  and  snow  on  the  ground,  the  sight  is 
perfect.  It  might  be  a  Druidical  function 
of  the  dark  ages.  The  ceremony  com- 
pleted, 'he  company  march  up  to  the  house 
of  the  owner,  where  more  cider  and  good 
cheer  await  them.  Old  men  still  believe 
that  if  this  custom  is  not  observed  a  bad 
crop  of  apples  will  be  the  result,  and  if  a 
farmer  is  unpopular  his  orchard  is  left 
unwassailed. 

I  have  before  me  several  local  versions 
of  the  rhymes  sung  to  the  apple-trees,  but 
the  Halse  Wassail  Song  is  the  most  com- 
plete, and  owes  its  preservation,  I  believe, 


to  Dr.  Prior,  of  Halse,  who  died  last  year. 
It  is  partly  in  Somersetshire  dialect : 

"Wassail,  wassail,  all  round  the  town, 

The    zidur-cup    is    white,    and    the    zidur    is 

brown, 
Our  zidur  is  made  from  good  apple  trees. 
And  now,  my  fine  fellows,  we'll  drink,  if  you 

please. 
We'll  drink  your  health  with  all  our  heart, 
We'll  drink  to'e  all  before  we  part, 
Here's  one,  and  here's  two. 
And  here's  three  before  we  goo. 
We're  three  jolly  boys  all  in  a  row, 
All  in  a  row,  boys,  all  in  a  row, 
And  we're  three  jolly  boys  all  in  a  row. 

Chorus — 

"This  is  our  wassail,  our  jolly  wassail. 
And  joy  go  with  our  jolly  wassail. 
Hatfuls,  capfuls,  dree  basket,  basketfuls, 
And  a  little  heap  in  under  the  stairs. 

"  Down  in  a  green  copse  there  sits  an  old  fox. 
And  there  he  sits  a-mopping  his  chops. 
Shall  we  go  catch  him,  boys — say,  shall  we  go? 
A  thousand  to  one  whor  we  catch  him  or  no. 

■"There  was  an  old  man,  and  he  had  an  old 

cow. 
And  for  to  keep  her  he  couldn't  tell  liow, 


132 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


THROWING    THE    HOOD:    THE   SPOT   WTIERE    THE    SPORT 
COMMENCES 

On  the  left  of  the  "Fool"  is  standing  the  "Lord"  holding  the  mock  hoods 
Photo  by  George  Haniviond,  Haxey 


So  he  built  up  a  barn  to  kip  his  cow  warm ; 
And  a  liddle  more  liquor'U  do  us  no  harm. 

"And  now  we'll  go  whoam  and  tell  our  wife 

Joan, 
To  put  in  the  pot  the  girt  marrow  bones, 
That  we  may  have  porridge  when  we  do  cum 

whoam. 

"There  was  an  old  man,  and  he  lived  in  the 

West, 
The  juice  of  the  barrel  was  what  he  loved 

best. 
He  loved  his  auld  wife  as  dear  as  his  life, 
But  when  they  got  drunk,  why,  thay  soon 

cum  to  strife." 

The  chorus  is  repeated  after  each  verse, 
and  the  "Hatfuls,  capfuls,"  given  with 
great  gusto. 

The  Rev.  C.  M.  Whistler,  of  Stockland, 
in   Devonshire,  says  that  the  custom  of 


wassaihng  the  apple  trees 
was  practised  in  his  neigh- 
liourhood  when  he  came 
eight  years  ago,  and  the 
wassailers  wanted  to 
"  do  "  his  apple  trees.  He 
was,  however,  from  home, 
and  his  man  drove  them 
off,  and  he  has  not,  to 
his  regret,  been  again 
approached  on  the  sub- 
ject. 

Among  other  Somerset- 
shire customs  w'hich  have 
survived  to  modern  times, 
is  the  drinking  of  Flap- 
dragon  at  dinner  on 
Christmas  Day.  The 
practice  is  for  the  com- 
pany to  float  almonds, 
cut  in  the  form  of  boats, 
in  their  wine  glasses,  then 
to  set  fire  to  the  almond 
and  toss  off  the  wine 
with  it  ahght.  This  is 
a  modified,  and  certainly 
pleasanter,  form  of  the 
ancient  custom  of  drink- 
ing while  candle-ends 
floated  alight  in  the  wine, 
as  an  offering  to  the  Sun 
god. 

The  superstition  re- 
garding the  blossoming  of 
the  W'hite  thorn  w'hich 
Joseph  of  Arimathea 
planted  at  Glastonbury, 
and  from  which  plants  have  been  propa- 
gated in  many  parts  of  the  country,  sur\aves 
in  remote  districts  in  Somersetshire.  A  gen- 
tleman relates  that  on  Old  Christmas  Day 
in  1891  he  met  a  young  girl  in  a  North 
Somersetshire  village,  who  told  him  she 
was  going  to  see  the  Christmas  thorn  in 
blossom.  He  accompanied  her,  and 
found,  to  his  surprise,  a  tree  propagated 
from  the  Glastonbury  thorn,  and  gathered 
sprigs  in  blossom.  He  was  told  that  it  used 
to  be  the  custom  for  the  young  people  of 
the  district  to  assemble  under  the  tree  on 
Christmas  Eve  to  hear  the  popping  of  the 
bud  as  it  burst  into  bloom.  Stonyhurst, 
in  Lancashire,  has  a  local  thorn  which 
flowers  at  Christmas. 

Devonshire  is  a  countv  where  old  cus- 


OLD    CHRISTMAS    CUSTOMS    IN    ENGLAND 


133 


toms  die  hard,  and  the  peasantry  hold 
fast  to  their  ancient  rites  and  ceremonies. 
Folklore  and  picturesque  superstition  per- 
meate the  atmosphere  of  Dartmoor,  and 
have  not  been  completely  eradicated  by 
the  prosaic  invasion  of  the  convicts  and 
warders  of  Princetown,  or  the  unbelieving 
Board  Schools.  Coy  maidens  still  go  to 
church  on  Christmas  Day  wearing  last 
midsummer's  rose,  and  doubtless  find  the 
right  swain  waiting  to  claim  it;  while 
careful  housewives  bewail  the  pranks  of 
the  "pixies,"  those  Devonshire  "Robin 
Goodfellows"  who  are  always  alert  for 
mischief  There  may  even  yet  be  in  some 
isolated  cottage  of  Dartmoor  a  young 
person  untroubled  by  a  knowledge  of 
the  Ten  Commandments.  It  is  related 
that  some  sixty  years  ago,  a  girl  prepar- 
ing for  contirmation  gave  the  Command- 
ments as:  "Crismis,  Lady  Day,  Aister, 
Whitsuntide,  our  vair,  and  brither  Dan's 
birthday." 

"Crismis"  evidently  figured  first  in  her 
imagination.  The  word  recalls  the  Ash- 
ton  faggot,  which  on  Christmas  Eve  blazes 
on  the  wide  hearths  of  the  moorland  farms. 
It  differs  from  the  yule-log  in  being  com- 
posed of  separate  sticks  and  branches  of 
wood  securely  bound  together  with  bands 
of  ash.  Round  the  blazing  pile  the  family 
sit  cracking  jokes,  playing  games  and  par- 
taking of  good  cheer.  The  timber  being 
green,  the  hoop  bands  of  the  fagot  burst 
with  a  loud  report,  and  at  each  bursting 
the  farmer  calls  for  a  quart  of  cider  and 
toasts  his  friends.  Later,  if  there  is  an 
orchard,  the  company  go  out  with  a  bowl 
of  hot  cider  and  wassail  the  apple  trees. 

Mrs.  Bray,  in  "The  Borders  of  the 
Tamar  and  the  Tavy,"  refers  to  this  cus- 
tom still  surviving  in  the  villages  on  the 
I  borders  of  Dartmoor.  "On  Christmas 
1  Eve,"  she  relates,  "the  farmers  and  their 
I  men  take  a  large  bowl  of  cider  with  toast 
I  in  it  and  carry  it  in  state  to  the  orchard, 
i  and  salute  the  apple  trees  with  much  cere- 
j  mony,  in  order  to  make  them  bear  well 
i  next  year.  The  salutation  consists  in 
I  throwing  ome  of  the  cider  about  the  roots 
of  the  trees,  placing  bits  of  toast  in  the 
(branches,  and  then  forming  themselves 
I  into  a  ring,  like  the  bards  of  old,  they 
'sine: 


"Here's  to  tliec,  old  upple  tree, 

Whence   thou  may'st   bud,   and   where   thou 

may'st  blow! 
And  whence  thou  may'st  bear  apples  enow." 

Sj)ecial  honour  is  paid  to  a  tree  on  which 
mistletoe  is  found,  and  the  fact  that  this 
sacred  plant  of  the  Druids  occasionally 
grows  on  apple  trees  may  connect  the 
wassailing  custom  with  the  Pagan  rites. 
The  custom  is  not  confined  to  Somerset- 
shire and  Devon,  but  has  survived  within 
living  memory  in  Hertfordshire,  Shropshire, 
Herefordshire,  and  in  the  New  Forest, 
Hampshire.  At  Chailey,  in  Sussex,  too, 
the  custom  has  hngered  on,  and  the  was- 
sail song  of  that  district  begins: 

"Stand  fast  root,  bear  well  top,     " 

Pray  the  God  send  us  a  hood  howling  crop." 

Shooting  the  apple  trees  is  another  cus- 
tom observed  n  Devonshire.  Mr.  F.  G. 
Snell,  M.A.,  writing  n  the  "Antiquary," 
in  1894,  relates  that  while  residing  at 
Bolham,  a  small  Devonshire  hamlet,  he 
was  startled  when  sitting  up  late  one 
January  night  (presumably  January  17th, 
Old  Twelfth  Eve)  by  the  report  of  a  gun 
which  was  reported  at  intervals.  Next 
morning  he  learned  that  some  villagers 
had  been  firing  at  the  apple  trees.  From 
recent  enquiries,  I  find  that  an  old  man 
in  Moretonhampstead,  Devon,  recalls  the 
practice  of  shooting  the  apple  trees  as 
having  been  common  in  his  youth.  One 
fails  to  understand  the  reason  for  shooting 
the  trees,  unless  it  was  in  the  nature  of  a 
threat  akin  to  a  custom  in  Poland,  where 
the  farmer  goes  round  his  orchard  with  a 
hatchet,  and  threatens  each  tree  if  it  does 
not  bear.  Antiquarians  trace  the  custom 
to  the  Pagan  ceremony  of  casting  a  spear, 
or  shooting  an  arrow'  over  the  tree  to 
dedicate  it  to  Odin. 

The  Isle  of  Man  is  a  separate  kingdom, 
and  not  a  county,  but  in  concluding  the 
account  of  old  Christmas  survivals  one 
may  mention  he  Manx  custom  of  "Hunt- 
ing the  Wren,"  on  December  24th  or  on 
December  26th.  The  men  and  boys  of 
the  island  used  to  set  out  in  companies  and 
chase  the  poor  Httle  wrens  all  day  long, 
because  of  some  superstition  of  the  past. 
At  the  end  of  the  chase  one  of  the  birds 


134  THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 

was  fixed  on  the  top  of  a  long  pole,  with  Afterwards  the  wren  was  laid  on  a  bier, 

wings  extended,  or  sometimes  hung  by  the  and  buried  with  full  rites  in  the  parish 

leg  between  two  hoops  crossed  at  right  churchyard. 

angles  and  decked  with  ribbons,  and  car-  Mr.  Hall  Caine  tells  me  that  the  wren 

ried  by  the  wren  boys  in  procession,  from  boys  still  go  round  singing  on  St.  Stephen's 

house  to  house,  as  they  sang:  Day  (December  26th),  but  the  actual  hunt- 

"  We  hunted  the  Wren  for  Robin  the  Bobbin,"  |ng  of  the  wren  does  not  now  take  place 

etc.  in  the  Isle  of  Man. 


The  Goal 

BY   MURIEL    ALBERTA   ARMSTRONG 

I  STOOD  at  the  foot  of  a  mountain 
On  a  lovely  morn  in  June, 
Gazing  aloft  at  the  gilded  peaks 
In  the  glare  of  a  summer  noon. 

The  mountain  was  massed  with  verdure. 

And  almost  hidden  from  view 
A  narrow  pathway  ascended 

To  a  haven  beneath  the  blue. 

The  course  stretched  steep  and  stony. 
And  the  way  lay  lonely  and  drear, 

But  the  madness  of  youth  and  summer 
Had  blotted  out  faintness  and  fear. 

So,  boldly  courageous  I  started, 

And  all  through  the  golden  day 
I  climbed  and  struggled  to  reach  the  top 

'Till  the  darkness  blinded  the  way. 

My  heart  grew  wear}-  and  timid. 

And  the  ardour  within  me  was  chilled, 

But  the  thirst  for  that  haven  could  not  be  slaked. 
Nor  the  longing  for  fame  be  stilled. 

So  again  and  again  I  endeavoured. 

And  the  summer  glory  waned, 
But  still  I  gazed  at  the  distant  goal, 

And  Ambition  was  not  restrained. 

Till  at  length  the  gold  all  faded 

And  paled  on  December's  cheek. 

Then  with  one  last  mighty  effort 
I  gained  the  topmost  peak. 

But  why  was  the  brightness  clouded, 
And  where  was  the  haven  of  gold? 

Alas!  the  ghtter  had  vanished, 

And  the  h'ght  had  grown  cold. 


A   PAIXTIvR-ILI.rSTRATOR 


THE  DAWN  OF  MAJUBA  DAY— r.  catox  woodville,  r.i. 

The  Canadians  at  the  Battle  of  Paardeberg,  when  Cronje  surrendered.     This  painting  was 

purchased  by  the  Toronto  Industrial  Exhibition  Association  and 

will  be  presented  to  the  City  Art  Gallery 

135 


136 


The  Lost  Earl  of  Elian 

A  Story  of  Australian   Life 

By  MRS.  CAMPBELL  PRA ED,  author  of ''My  Australian  Girlhood," 
"Fugitive  Anne,"  "Nyria,"  etc.,  etc. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

mick's  shaft 

PART  from  the  personal 
consolation  of  Susan,  Brian's 
arrival  at  Narrawan  was  op- 
portune, for  it  relieved  the 
tension  of  suspense  that  had 
followed  upon  the  receipt  of  the  mail,  and 
forced  Mr.  Galbraith  out  of  his  dreary 
brooding  in  the  "office"  to  welcome  his 
guest.  Susan's  father  had  gathered  easily 
enough  what  Brian's  visit  portended,  and 
perhaps  nothing  short  of  a  suitor  for  the 
hand  of  his  favourite  child  would  have 
made  him  put  aside  for  the  moment  the 
futile  speculations  roused  by  Mr.  Kirby's 
letter,  or  have  given  him  a  short  respite 
from  the  gnawings  of  self-reproach. 

As  the  dinner  hour  drew  on,  however, 
he  began  to  worry  over  Oora's  absence, 
and  sent  for  Tommy  George  to  ask  if 
anything  had  been  seen  of  Pintpot.  Then 
it  appeared  that  the  horse  Oora  had  ridden 
to  Iron  Bark  Camp  was  running  lame  in 
the  Home  Paddock,  and  that  Gipsy  Girl 
and  two  other  hacks  were  missing,  so  that 
when  Mr.  Galbraith  came  in,  angry  and 
alarmed,  to  consult  Patsy,  Susan  was 
obliged  to  tell  him  part  of  what  had  hap- 
pened. So  she  related  how  Oora,  having 
heard  a  story  from  the  blacks  of  a  sick 
white  man,  whom  a  Bundah  tribe  had 
brought  down  with  them  from  the  north, 
and  who  was  now  in  the  native  camp  at 
the  foot  of  the  Range — had  foolishly  in- 
sisted on  going  off  at  once  to  see  into  the 
matter,  in  case  this  unknown  white  man 
could  possibly  be  Harry,  and  how,  as  Susan 
was  seeing  her  start,  they  had  met  Wolfe 
at  the  Bunyip's  waterhole  on  his  way  to 
the  house.  Here  Susan  became  confused 
and  reticent,  and  Brian  came  clumsily  to 
'her  rescue,  explaining  that  Mr.  Wolfe  had 
'evidently  considered  it  unfit  for  a  young 
lady  to  be  riding  at  that  hour  through  the 

4—137 


bush  with  no  better  company  than  a  black- 
boy,  and  had  very  properly  given  her  his 
escort.  There  was  nothing  extraordinary 
in  the  latter  part  of  the  tale,  except  indeed 
the  coincidence  of  Wolfe's  unexpected 
arrival,  and  that,  after  all,  was  what  Mr. 
Galbraith  had  been  hoping  would  happen, 
for  he  had  taken  it  badly  that  Wolfe 
should  have  repaid  his  kindness  with 
apparently  such  ingratitude.  He  was 
now  glad  to  think  he  had  misjudged  him 
and  also  extremely  glad  that  he  had  got 
an  eflScient  stockman  back  again.  It  was 
perfectly  natural  too  that  Wolfe  should 
have  taken  upon  himself  the  responsibility 
of  guarding  Oora,  seeing  that  he  knew  the 
wild  country  beyond  Iron  Bark  Camp, 
having  mustered  cattle  and  hunted  brum- 
bies on  the  lower  spurs  of  the  Range. 
jMr.  Galbraith  was  therefore  mollified 
concerning  Wolfe  and  commended  his 
action,  but  the  others  had  to  listen  to 
some  severe  condemnation  of  Oora's 
reckless  impulsiveness  and  madcap  ways. 

"WTay,"  the  Boss  asked  querulously, 
"must  she  be  always  running  after  single- 
handed  adventure?  \Vliy  couldn't  she 
have  come  in  and  consulted  him,  and  then 
they  might  have  gone  sensibly  into  the 
business,  have  questioned  the  blacks, 
made  suitable  preparations  and,  in  short, 
have  done  all  the  things  Oora  had  been 
anxious  to  avoid.  Still  Oora  was  Oora, 
and  as  Patsy  good-naturedly  tried  to  point 
out,  there  was  no  use  in  expecting  her  to 
do  anything  after  the  manner  of  an 
ordinary  girl.  She  was  a  half-wild  crea- 
ture, and  whether  on  the  sea  or  in  the  bush 
she  was  bound  to  be  as  much  at  home  as  a 
fish  or  a  kangaroo. 

Nevertheless,  dinner  was  not  altogether 
a  sociable  meal,  though  Cordeaux  felt  far 
too  content  at  the  success  of  his  own  love- 
affaiT  not  to  try  and  appear  cheerful;  and 
painfully  embarrassed  though  he  had  been 
at  some  of  Susan's  confidences,  he  did  his 


138 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


best  to  entertain  the  little  company  with 
an  account  of  the  Clyties  recent  voyag- 
ings  along  the  coast.  But  everyone  else 
was  more  or  less  pre-occupied.  Even  the 
Pickaninny,  as  a  rule  the  most  conversa- 
tional of  mortals,  sat  silently  staring  at 
the  new-comer  with  solemn  black  eyes 
shadowed  by  elf  locks  that  hung  down 
over  her  night-gown  in  which  she  usually' 
appeared  at  this  hour.  She  was  puzzled 
and  awed  by  this  "new  feller  Benjamin 
belonging  to  Susan," — as  to  her  sister's 
intense  discomfiture  she  described  Brian — 
having  divined  with  the  sharp  intuition 
common  to  children  and  to  the  blacks, 
that  he  was  Susan's  lover. 

When  the  meal  was  over,  Patsy  retired 
to  put  her  children  to  bed  and  the  Boss 
went  back  to  the  office  and  his  solitary 
self-communings,  while  Susan  took  Brian 
to  the  verandah  and  thence  into  the  moon- 
lit garden. 

She  had  already  opened  out  her  heart 
to  him  and  found  delicious  salve  for  her 
wounded  feelings  in  his  tenderness  and 
consideration,  which  were  greater  to-day 
than  ever.  He  would  have  liked  to  ask  her 
a  good  many  questions  concerning  this 
James  Wolfe,  of  whom  he  had  just  heard 
so  much  at  Xarrawan,  for  a  certain  letter 
in  his  pocket  from  Craies,  the  solicitor 
who  had  got  on  the  track  of  his  missing 
cousin,  had  intensified  Brian's  suspicion 
that  the  Lost  Earl  of  Elian,  James  Wolfe 
and  James  Robinson,  were  one  and  the 
same  individual.  Now,  judging  by  what 
Brian  learnt  from  Susan,  it  seemed  to  him 
an  undoubted  fact  that  this  James  Wolfe 
was  the  James  Robinson  whom  he  had 
seen  at  Thursday  Island,  and  also,  that  he 
w'as  really  James  Wolfe  Cordeaux.  But 
though  Susan  in  her  first  indignant  con- 
fidences, sobbed  out  on  Brian's  shoulder 
down  by  the  waterhole,  had  told  him 
enough  of  Oora's  acquaintance  with  the 
man  to  make  this  clear  to  Brian,  she 
shrank  from  personal  questions  concern- 
ing Wolfe,  and  Brian  wisely  determined 
not  to  press  her  in  the  matter.  Thus  he 
never  quite  knew  the  rights  of  Susan's 
share  in  that  story  nor  how  she  had  once 
believed   that    she    loved    James    Wolfe. 

Of  Harry  Galbraith,  Brian,  of  course, 
had  known  nothing;  but  when  Susan 
sobbingly    recounted    Wolfe's    confession 


that  he  had  killed  her  brother,  Brian  was 
deeply  dismayed,  and  could  not  forbear 
showing  close  interest  in  the  matter.  But 
Susan,  blinded  by  her  own  grief,  supposed 
that  his  evident  distress  was  entirely  on 
her  behalf.  It  never  occurred  to  her  that 
the  trouble  could  concern  Brian  except 
through  her.  And  as  things  were,  he  did 
not  care  to  tell  her  who  he  supposed  James 
Wolfe  to  be.  Better  to  wait,  he  thought. 
Susan  had  been  through  enough  already, 
and  further  suspense  and  uncertainty 
would  but  add  to  the  load  she  had  to  bear. 
Then  there  was  the  chance  of  the  recovery 
of  Harry  Galbraith,  which  would  relieve 
James  Wolfe,  or  Jem  Cordeaux — as  he 
might  be — from  the  terrible  stigma  of 
murder,  for  Susan  had  told  Brian  all 
about  Oora's  wild  project  to  seek  out  the 
Bundah  tribe  of  blacks  who  were  camped 
at  the  edge  of  Razor-back  Gully.  And 
though  Susan  still  professed  disbelief  in 
the  possibility  of  Harry  being  among  them, 
the  idea  had  begun  to  take  some  hold  upon 
her,  and  she  talked  over  it  unceasingly 
with  her  lover.  Thus,  though  Brian 
looked  unusually  grave  and  certainly  con- 
sidered the  whole  situation  very  serious 
indeed,  he  was  nevertheless  inwardly 
happy,  as  far  as  he  himself  was  concerned, 
at  the  turn  affairs  had  taken. 

It  was  a  glorious  night,  the  moon  almost 
bright  enough  to  read  by,  yet  casting  fan- 
tastic and  deceptive  shadows  that  made 
trees  and  shrubs  seem  things  of  a  dream. 
The  lagoon  below,  with  its  silvery  reflec- 
tions, and  the  ghostly  trunks  of  the  white 
gums  surrounding  it,  looked  Hke  some  en- 
chanted lake.  The  dim  stretch  of  plain 
and  clumps  of  sandalwood  and  eucalyptus 
upon  it ;  the  rpoumful  gidya  forest  growing 
towards  it,  and  the  strange  night  calls  of 
the  bush — the  screeching  of  waterfowl,  the 
wail  of  curlews,  the  distant  howling  of 
dingoes,  the  cr}'  of  the  more-pork,  and  all 
the  many  eerie  sounds  added  to  the  sense 
of  weirdness  and  illusion. 

Susan  and  Brian  strolled  along  the 
garden  paths  between  orange  trees  and 
aromatic  shrubs,  which  were  pale  pillars 
of  blossom ;  here  v.-ere  stumps  twined  with 
monstrous  cactus  plants,  and  a  night- 
blooming  cereus  opened  its  enormous  white 
heart  to  the  moon  beams.  The  night  was 
heavy  with  perfume,  and  the  scent  of  the 


THE    LOST   EARL   OF   ELLAN 


139 


gardenias  and  stephanolis,  blending  with 
other  tropic  odours,  was  almost  over- 
powering. But  there  were  many  mos- 
quitoes amidst  the  greenery,  so  she  took 
him  b\'  a  gate  set  in  the  passion  creepers 
that  covered  the  garden  paling,  out  on  to 
the  open  path  leading  to  the  slip-rails. 
While  they  were  leaning  upon  the  paddock 
fence  and  looking  over  the  plain,  they  saw 
a  man  riding  towards  them.  He  was 
alone,  and  front  the  movement  of  his  horse 
thev  could  tell  that  the  animal  was  dead- 
beat.  The  rider  came  straight  to  the  sHp- 
rails  and  before  dismounting  looked 
steadily  up  to  the  cluster  of  buildings  on 
the  hill  brow,  evidently  taking  stock  of  the 
head  station.  He  had  not  noticed  Brian 
and  Susan,  who  were  in  the  shadow  of  a 
thick  clump  of  sandalwood  trees  that  grew 
close  to  the  fence,  and  who,  being  both  in 
black,  did  not  readily  attract  attention. 
Moreover,  the  stockman,  as  he  seemed, 
would  scarcely  have  expected  to  meet  a 
lady  in  a  dinner  dress  and  a  gentleman  in 
a  lounge  suit  so  far  from  the  house  at  this 
time  of  the  evening.  It  was  not  till  he  had 
put  down  the  slip-rails  that  he  saw  there 
was  somebody  there. 

"  Hello  1"  he  cried,  and  retreating  a  step, 
he  took  off  his  cabbage  tree  hat  in  con- 
fusion.     "  G'd    evening.    Miss.     I'm    on 

the  look  out "  he  stopped  suddenly, 

recognising  Brian  who  had  followed 
Susan  out  of  the  circle  of  shadow.  "Oh! 
My  word!  I'm  dashed  if  this  isn't  the 
sailor  gentleman.  G'd  day,  Mister;  it's 
a  rum  start  seein'  you  here,"  he  added, 
with  his  drawling  colonial  laugh. 

"Good  evening,  Mr.  Flinders  Dick," 
returned  Brian.  "Yes,  people  in  the 
bush  do  seem  to  have  a  queer  knack  of 
turning  up  several  hundred  miles  away 
from  where  you  might  expect  to  see  them. 
Last  time  we  met  was  at  Thursdav 
Island." 

Flinders.  Dick  seemed  embarrassed  at 
the  recollection,  and  occupied  himself  in 
trying  to  persuade  his  horse  to  walk  over 
the  slip-rails  which  were  lowered  at  one 
end,  but  the  beast  seemed  stupefied  from 
having  been  over-ridden,  and  shied  at  the 
shadows  of  the  poles  on  the  ground. 
I  Susan  moved  aside  from  its  heels. 
'     "Don't  you  be  afraid.  Miss.     The  poor 


old  crawler  hasn't  got  a  kick  in  him.  He 
wants  to  lie  down,  that's  all." 

"Have  you  come  from  Wooralba  with  a 
telegram  ?"  she  asked. 

"Wooralba!  Xo  fear.  I  reckon  I've 
come  more'n  ninety  miles  further  than 
that,  riding  hard  and  soldiering  a  horse 
wherever  I  got  the  chance.  A  cattle-boat 
took  me  to  Rockingham  Bay.  I  couldn't 
wait  for  the  steamer,  so  I  over-landed  the 
rest  from  Cardwell." 

"Miss  Galbraith,  I  see  you're  not 
acquainted  with  my  friend,  Mr.  Flinders 
Dick,"  said  Brian  genially. 

"At  your  service.  Miss.  I'm  pleased  to 
see  you,  for  maybe  you  can  tell  me  if  my 
mate  has  been  up  this  way." 

"Your  mate?"  asked  Susan.  "WTiat 
is  his  name?" 

Flinders  Dick  found  himself  confronted 
with  an  unexpected  difficulty.  He  looked 
sheepishly  at  Brian.  How  was  he  to  say 
James  Wolfe,  when  ^^'olfe  had  announced 
himself  to  Cordeaux  as  James  Robinson, 
and  had  warned  Dick  against  disclosing 
his  identity. 

"W^a-al — I  dunno — it's  a  bit  awkward 
to  explain,"  he  stammered.  "It's  this 
way.  Miss.  My  horse  is  knocked  up,  and 
I  wanted  to  get  on  to  the  Iron  Bark  Bore, 
which  is  seven  miles  about,  I  b'heve — I — I 
haven't  been  up  in  this  part  lately." 

"But  why  do  you  want  to  go  to  the 
bore?"  asked  Susan.  "It's  not  being 
worked  now,  and  there's  no  one  at  the 
humpey." 

"My  mate  wired  me  from  Townsville 
that  I  should  find  him  there,  and  that  if 
I  didn't  he'd  leave  word  where  he  was 
gone,"  said  Flinders  Dick. 

Susan  suddenly  guessed  who  his  mate 
was.  Her  face  stiffened  and  her  voice 
changed  as  she  asked  in  a  constrained 
manner: 

"Is  it  :Mr.  Wolfe  that^vou  want?" 

Again  Dick  hesitated.  Brian,  remem- 
bering the  interview  at  Thursday  Island, 
struck  in : 

"James  Wolfe  or,  as  he  called  himself 
when  we  met,  James  Robinson.  You  need 
not  mind  speaking  out  before  me.  Flinders 
Dick,  if  there's  anything  you  wash  to  say. 
I  sha'n't  harm  vour  friend.     I  understand 


140 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


his  reason  for  preferring  to  use  a  different 
name,  and  I  fully  sympathise  with  it." 

Flinders  Dick  glanced  at  Cordeaux 
gratefully.  He  shifted  his  weight  from 
one  foot  to  the  other  in  a  puzzled  way. 
"I  see  you've  got  the  hang  of  something 
beyond    me,    Mister,"    he    said    simply. 

"But  I  reckon  it's  an  all-right  mix,  for 
as  far  as  I  can  tell  nothin'  can  make  any 
odds  naow.  Jem  can  spit  out  the  whole 
back  lot  and  chuck  this  thundering  old 
show  and  clear  to  England  if  he  jolly  well 
pleases,  and  float  the  Shark's  Tooth  Gold 
Mine  Company,  and  keep  half  the  shares 

Queer  name   to   choose,   ain't   it, 

Mister,  but  a  shark's  tooth  brought  him 
luck,  d'ye  see  ?  " 

Neither  of  the  other  two  spoke. 

"My  mate  'uU  be  a  rich  man,"  went  on 
Dick.  "It's  another  Mount  Morgan,  I 
b'lieve.     D'ye  understand?" 

"I  vmderstand  that  you  must  have 
struck  gold,"  answered  Brian  stiffly. 
There  seemed  something  in  Flinders 
Dick's  levity  that  jarred  upon  both  Susan 
and  Cordeaux.  Then  a  wild  hope  sprang 
up  in  Susan's  breast.  Was  it  possible  that 
Oora  was  right  after  all?  Could  the 
black's  story  be  true? 

"Mr.  Flinders  Dick,"  she  said  tremu- 
lously, "I  don't  think  you  could  speak  Hke 
that  if  you  knew  everything.  You  couldn't 
seem  so  glad  about  your  mate  if  you  under- 
stood what  Mr.   Wolfe  told  me  himself 

to-day  about — about "  her  voice  died 

off  sadly.     Dick  only  caught  the  murmur- 
ed words,  "my  brother." 

In  a  moment  he  was  subdued  and  utter- 
ly remorseful.  "I've  done  it  now!"  he 
cried  bitterly.  "I'm  a  blunderin'  jumpt-up 
brute.  I  deserve  a  hidin'  fer  my  dashed 
keerlessness.  I  was  carried  off  my  head 
for  the  minute  and  I  clean  forgot  that  poor 
Harry  the  Blower  was  your  brother. 
Miss." 

Susan  turned,  sobbing,  away,  and 
Brian  put  his  arms  round  her. 

"Don't  you  let  her  fret,  Mister," 
pleaded  Dick  anxiously.  "  So  fer  as  I  can 
make  out  pore  Harry's  all  right.  Least- 
ways  " 

"You  cannot  be  aware,"  interrupted 
Brian,  "that  only  an  hour  or  two  ago. 
Miss  Galbraith  had  the  terrible  shock  of 
hearing  from  Jem's — from  your  mate's — 


own  lips,  that  he  had  killed  her  brother." 

"Naow — Naow!"  exclaimed  Flinders 
Dick.  "Jem  didn't  know  himself  what 
I've  come  all  this  way,  quick  as  I  could,  to 
tell  him  and  the  rest  of  you  people  here. 
I've  got  a  lot  to  explain  to  the  Boss.  But 
first  I  want  to  know — is  my  mate  up  there  ? 
He  jerked  his  thumb  towards  the  head 
station. 

"No,  he  isn't,"  answered  Brian.  "Up 
there  they  don't  know  anything  about 
him." 

"Where  is  he  then?"  asked  FHnders 
Dick  excitedly.  "The  police  haven't 
caught  him,  have  they?  I  know  they 
have  been  put  on  to  him,  but  I  reckoned 
I'd  be  in  time  to  set  things  straight.  Where 
is  Jem?" 

"He  has  gone  with  Miss  Oora  Gal- 
braith to  the  blacks'  camp,  at  a  place 
called  Razor-back  Gully,  in  search  of  a 
sick  white  man,  who  they  heard  had  been 
brought  down  there  by  the  natives." 

Flinders  Dick  threw  out  his  long,  loose- 
jointed  arms  in  jubilation. 

"Oh,  Jiminy!  they've  got  hold  of  him. 
That's  fine.  Dash  me,  if  it  isn't  Harry 
himself?" 

"We  don't  know  that  it  is.  We  don't 
know  anything  except  that  one  of  the 
blacks  in  this  neighbourhood  declared 
that  this  white  man  was  something  like 
Harry  Galbraith,"  interposed  Brian. 

"Blow  me  if  it  isn't  Harry!  It  must 
be  Harr}'!"  cried  FHnders  Dick.  "The 
blacks  were  making  for  Narrawan.  But 
who  could  ha'  hoped  that  they  would  have 
turned  up  to  time  hke  this." 

Susan  appealed  to  him  agitatedly. 

"  For  God's  sake  tell  me  what  you  know. 
Do  you  really  think  that  my  poor  brother 
is  not  dead  and  that  he  is  with  the  blacks? 
It  seems  incredible.  Tell  me  what  makes 
you  think  it?" 

"  Wa-al,  Miss,  I  got  on  the  track  of  him 
outside  Card  well — all  of  a  sudden.  It 
was  a  Hinchinbrook  Island  boy — one  of 
the  Bundah  blacks,  and  he  told  me  his 
tribe  had  all  gone  on  the  walk  about  up 
Narra  way  to  the  bunya  country,  and 
that  they'd  got  Harry  Galbraith  with  them. 
He  was  alive  all  right  then,  but  a  bit  queer 
in  his  head,  the  black-boy  told  me — said 
he  talked  ' like  it  HI  feller  pickaninny'. " 

Susan    looked    easrerlv    at    Brian.     "I 


THE   LOST   EARL   OF   ELLAN 


141 


told  you  how  Birraboi  told  Oora  that  the 
white  man  had  got  scrub  madness — but 
sUrely  that  couldn't  mean  that  he  was 
really  out  of  his  mind.  He  might  have 
had  a  bad  attack  of  fever.  Oh,  Brian, 
Oora  may  have  been  right  after  all!" 

"You  can  take  my  oath,  Miss,  that  so 
fer  as  I  know  at  this  minute  what  Fve  said 
is  gospel  truth,"  broke  in  Dick.  "If  I 
was  to  begin  giving  you  the  whole  blessed 
lay-out  I'd  have  to  start  a  good  way  back, 
and  it  seems  to  me  I'd  best  get  hold  of  my 
mate  first.  If  the  Boss  will  let  me  have  a 
fresh  horse  straightaway  I'll  tell  him 
while  they  are  changing  saddles  as  much 
as  will  set  his  mind  at  rest,  and  then  I'll 
ride  like  blazes  after  Jem.  How  do  I 
know  that  the  troopers  haven't  spotted 
him  through  the  telegrams  we  sent  ?  Dang 
my  stupidity!  I  only  thought  of  that 
afterwards.     And  they  may  be  making  to 

the    bore    same    as    me By    Gosh! 

listen!" 

Flinders  Dick's  trained  Bush  ears  were 
on  the  alert  in  an  instant,  and  his  dog- 
like eyes  strained  into  the  night;  but  it  was 
several  seconds  before  either  Susan  or 
Brian  could  hear  the  mufSed  sound  of 
horses'  hooves  approaching  the  head 
station  from  the  opposite  direction — that 
of  the  Bun\np's  waterhole  and  the  bore 
track.  As  the  sounds  came  nearer,  it  was 
easy  to  tell  that  they  were  made  by  a  com- 
pany of  horses  going  at  the  quick,  steady 
pace  of  mounted  and  well-ridden  beasts. 
The  men  who  rode  them  were  drilled  men; 
the  horses  knew  their  work.  There  was  no 
mistaking  the  even  hoof-thuds.  Only  a 
band  of  troopers  could  ride  like  that. 

FUnders  Dick  pulled  the  bridle  off  his 
own  jaded  beast  and  guided  it  gently  over 
the  lowered  ends  of  the  slip-rails,  but  with 
the  instinct  of  the  bushman  he  stopped  to 
lift  the  top  rail  and  slip  it  back  into  the 
morticed  holes,  and  then  with  a  quick 
jerk  fixed  the  lower  one. 

"My  word!"  he  said,  "there's  the 
troopers,  sure  enough,  but  they  ain't 
ridin'  as  if  they'd  got  their  man.  They're 
in  too  damned  a  hurry  for  that." 

Susan's  first  thought  was  of  the  shock  to 
her  father  in  this  unexpected  onslaught  of 
the  pohce. 

"  Oh,  let  us  go  back  quickly! "  she  cried. 
"  Dad  doesn't  know.     He  is  buoying  him- 


self up  with  Mr.  Kirby's  letter,  and  these 
men  will  tell  him  that  Harrj'  is  dead. 
Come,  come,  I  must  .speak  to  him  first." 

She  darted  ahead  of  the  two  men,  her 
light  feet  seeming  scarcely  to  touch  the 
grass.  Flinders  Dick  did  nof  stop  to 
mount  his  horse  but  tugged  him  by  the 
bridle  as  he  ran  beside  Brian.  Before  they 
had  gone  many  paces  they  saw  the  troop- 
ers turn  round  the  bend  of  gidya  and  ride 
at  a  rapid  trot  towards  the  head  station. 
There  were  five,  the  sergeant  leading,  and 
in  the  moonlight,  as  Susan  ran,  she  could 
see  the  steel  on  their  rifles  and  could  also 
distinguish  that  three  of  the  men  were 
white  troopers  and  the  other  two  black 
trackers.  In  a  moment,  she  realised 
that  it  was  out  of  the  question  she  could 
get  to  the  house  before  the  policemen. 
But  she  had  not  run  half-way  up  the  slope 
from  the  slip-rails  before  the  trooper  pulled 
up  at  the  railings  of  the  back  yard.  Susan 
heard  them  dismount,  heard  the  sergeant 
address  the  frightened  Chinamen  and  ask 
for  Mr.  Galbraith.  Almost  immediately 
her  father's  voice  sounded  from  the  back 
verandah,  enquiring  peremptorily  what 
business  the  police  had  on  his  station  at 
that  hour  of  the  night. 

Susan  stopped,  breathless  and  dismayed, 
to  catch  the  sergeant's  reply,  but  it  was 
lower-toned  and  she  could  not  hear  what 
he  said.  A  wave  of  despair  swept  over  her. 
Yet  there  was  immense  comfort  in  the 
knowledge  that  Brian  Cordeaux  was  at  her 
side,  his  strong  arm  supporting  her,  his 
kind  voice  speaking  words  of  encourage- 
ment. 

"We  are  too  late,"  she  gasped.  Don't 
you  see  they've  gone  in  ?  They  are  teUing 
father.  Oh!  it  will  kill  Dad  to  hear  that 
awful  news  in  this  sudden  way.  You 
don't  know  how  he  has  been  feeling  about 
poor  Harry,  and  how  he  has  been  blaming 
himself." 

"Have  faith,  dearest,"  said  Brian 
tenderly.  "An way,  I'm  here  to  be  all 
the  comfort  I  can  be  to  you  and  to  your 
father,  if  he  will  let  me.  Besides,  this 
good  fellow,  Flinders  Dick,  seems  fairly 
sure  he  is  going  to  get  things  straight — 
and  somehow,  I  believe  him.  Who 
knows!  your  brother  may  soon  be  with 
us  to  tell  us  his  owti  tale." 

"Oh!  if  only  Oora  would  only  come!" 


142 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


murmured  Susan,  turning  in  her  despair 
to  the  wild  hope  she  had  at  first  refused. 

She  stopped  at  the  gate  set  among  the 
passion  vines,  through  which  she  and 
Brian  had  gone  forth.  Fhnders  Dick  was 
close  behind  them,  vituperating  his 
broken-down  hack,  which  was  sulky  and 
would  not  answer  to  the  bit.  Susan  spoke 
hurriedly  to  the  bushman:  "Will  you  go 
roimd  with  your  horse?  No,"  she  added 
on  a  second  thought  "you'd  better  hang 
him  up  to  the  pahngs  and  come  this  way 
with  us." 

She  did  not  wait  for  Dick  to  reply,  but 
flew  along  the  garden  path,  Brian  with 
her.  Already,  the  troopers'  arrival  had 
made  a  small  commotion  at  the  place. 
Some  men  were  coming  up  hastily  from 
the  huts.  Late  as  it  was — the  time  was 
near  eleven — it  appeared  that  nobody  had 
gone  to  bed,  for  most  of  the  rooms  were 
Ughted.  Half-caste  Charlotte  was  in  the 
verandah  gangway  of  the  nursery  wing 
with  the  pickaninny,  roused  from  sleep, 
in  her  arms.  She  was  pointing  out  to  the 
cliild  the  troopers'  budgery  yarraman.  The 
old  black  gin  employed  by  .-Vh  Hong  gib- 
bered in  terror,  crying  "^larmi,  Marmi!" 
the  blacks'  name  for  the  native  police. 
Doubtless  he  remembered  some  old-time 
camp  raids.  Tommy  George,  at  the 
other  end  of  the  gangway,  was  busily  con- 
ferring with  the  two  black  trackers.  The 
Chinamen  were  there  also. 

Light  streamed  onto  the  verandah 
through  the  open  French  windows  of  the 
parlour,  and  Brian  and  Susan,  as  they 
mounted  the  steps,  saw  clearly  into  the 
room.  The  sergeant,  whose  name  was 
McGrath,  a  lean,  wiry  Irishman,  with  a 
scrubby  black  beard  and  vulpine  counten- 
ance, stood  before  a  small  table.  Behind 
him  stood  the  two  other  troopers,  erect  in 
their  uniforms,  but  with  interested,  im- 
patient expressions.  At  the  first  glance 
into  the  room,  Mr.  Galbraith  was  not 
visible,  though  he  might  be  heard  arguing 
in  shaky,  querulous  tones  with  the  oflicer, 
who  had  already  produced  his  warrant. 
At  the  moment,  Patsy  came  hurr}-ing  along 
the  verandah,  a  small  kerosene  lamp  in  her 
hand. 

"Oh!  Su,  what  has  happened?"  she 
cried  in  perturbation,  but  without  waiting 
for  an  answer  she  hastened  into  the  room 


and  put  her  lamp  down  upon  the  table 
where  the  sergeant  had  laid  his  warrant, 
while  she  bent  over  beside  her  husband 
and  tried  to  read  the  paper  with  him.  A 
circle  of  hovering,  winged  things  collected 
at  once  round  the  lamp  which  smelt  of 
kerosene,  and  Susan  noticed  that  unim- 
portant detail  and  wondered  at  herself 
afterwards  for  ha^^ng  done  so.  She  went 
quietly  up  to  her  father  on  the  other  side. 
He  had  his  back  to  the  French  window, 
and  stood  opposite  to  the  sergeant,  but  in 
that  short  time  he  seemed  to  have  become 
old  and  almost  senile.  His  strong,  bony 
frame  had  suddenly  shrunk,  his  shoulders 
were  huddled  together  and  he  was  stoop- 
ing so  low  over  the  table  that  his  reddish 
grey  beard  swept  the  edge  of  the  warrant 
which  he  was  laboriously  spelling  out,  his 
trembling  forefinger  tracing  the  writing 
upon  it. 

"  I  cannot  make  this  out,"  he  was  saying 
in  a  voice  that  quavered,  with  the  Scotch 
accent  very  pronounced,  as  was  his  way 
when  under  stress  of  emotion.  "Ye  must 
be  daft,  man,  or  else  this  is  some  sort  of 
sillv  devilrv  ve're  plaving  on  me,  Mc- 
Grath." 

"Faith,  and  I  wish  it  was  only  that,  for 
sorry  I  am  intoirely  to  be  bringing  you  this 
bad  news,  Mr.  Galbraith,"  replied  the 
sergeant  compassionately.  "I'd  not  have 
blurted  it  out  like  that,  av  I'd  thought 
you  wasn't  prepared.  Ye'U  see,  sorr, 
that  the  document  is  in  regular  order,  and 
that  it  is  a  warrant  for  the  arrest  of  one 
James  Wolfe,  formerly  in  your  employ- 
ment here,  on  a  charge  of  murder." 

"Lord  save  us  I"  exclaimed  Patsy. 
"AMiat's  that  you're  saying,  McGrath? 
Wolfe  a  murderer  I  WTiy,  he  came  up 
this  very  afternoon,  and  he's  gone  out  with 
Miss  Gora  to  fetch  a  white  man  they  are 
telling  of  that's  at  the  blacks'  camp. 
Sure,  you'll  be  out  of  vour  mind,  Mc- 
Grath." 

"And  where  moight  the  blacks'  camp 
be,  Mam?"  asked  McGrath  eagerly, 
ignoring  the  last  half  of  her -remark. 
"I've  got  to  foind  me  man,  and  I  mustn't 
waste  me  toime  in  talking." 

"I  canna  mak'  this  oot,"  Mr.  Gal- 
braith repeated,  helplessly  raising  his 
head  and  looking  round  with  a  blank  stare. 
"Pat,  my  woman,  can  ye  mak'  this  oot?" 


THE    LOST   EARL    OF   ELLAN 


143 


Patsy  caught  up  the  warrant  and  yx)red 
over  it  absorhedly. 

Susan  sprang  to  her  father's  side. 
"  Dad,  dear  Dad.  Let  me  explain  it  all  to 
you.     But  come  away,  come  outside." 

She  clung  to  him  and  besought  him, 
trying  to  draw  him  with  her  into  the  ver- 
andah, but  he  shook  his  head  stubbornly. 

"No,  no,  lassie,  I  maun  hear  what  ex- 
planation McGrath  has  got  to  give,  but, 
'deed,  that  it's  no  fitting  for  you  to  be 

mixed  uj)  wi'  such  things Weel,  weel, 

if  you  must  be  wrastlin'  with  trouble,  Su, 
then  mak'  out  the  meaning  of  this!  The 
laddie's  name  is  put  down  there — Henry 
Galbraith.  That's  oor  Harry  right  enough 
— but  what's  a'  this  talk  of  murdering? 
Who  says  that  Harry's  murdered  ?  Didn't 
Kirby  write  me  to  say  he'd  tracked  oor 
bonnie  lad  up  into  the  Yellaroi  country, 
and  he  was  only  waiting — just  waiting  to 
make  sure,  and  forbye  he'd  send  the  full 
particulars  of  where  to  find  him?" 

"Oh,  Kirby  meant  you'd  never  find  the 
boy!  Duncan,  old  man,  it's  a  cruel  blow 
that  they've  dealt  you!"  cried  Patsy,  the 
tears  streaming  down  her  cheeks  as  she 
pushed  the  warrant  fiercely  across  to  Mc- 
Grath. "Kirby  had  best  have  told  you 
the  truth  at  once  instead  of  letting  it  come 
on  you  like  this.  Sure,  he  must  have 
known  it  himself,  for  here  the  place  is 
written  plain,  '  Coolibah  Gully,  Yellaroi 
Range.'  But  I  can't  believe  that  Harry's 
dead.  And  I'll  never  beheve  Wolfe  meant 
to  kill  him." 

"My  word!  M'am,  you're  in  the  right 
there,"  shouted  Flinders  Dick,  stepping 
in  from  the  verandah  with  his  slouching 
stride  and  taking  up  a  determined  position 
among  the  group.  All  eyes  turned  upon 
him,  but  he  was  in  no  way  disconcerted  by 
the  scrutiny. 

"Cheer  up,  Boss!"  he  said  stoutly  to 
Mr.  Galbraith,  who  had  sunk  into  a  chair, 
his  head  upon  his  hands.  "Your  boy's 
alive,  to  the  best  of  my  belief;  and  yeou 
know,  Mr.  McGrath,"  he  added,  address- 
ing the  sergeant,  "it's  agin  the  law  to  hang 
a  cove  fer  murderin'  another  cove  who's 
walking  about  the  Bush." 

Mr.  Galbraith  looked  up  slowly  and 
McGrath  stared  at  FKnders  Dick.  "  Faith 
I'd  loike  to  be  sure  he  was,  my  man," 
said  the  sergeant  drily. 


"All  right.  So  you  shall.  I've  been 
waiting  for  the  Boss  to  hear  my  say,  after 
you'd  done  yours.  But  you'd  better  look 
at  my  dokkyment,  sergeant.  It's  drawn 
out  reg'lar  too,  and  signed  and  witne.ssed. 
Last  Dying  Confession  of  as  big  a  scoun- 
drel as  ever  peached  on  a  pal — commonly 
known  as  Flash  Sam.  God  have  mercy 
on  his  soul!  Run  your  eye  down  this, 
captain,  and  you  won't  be  in  such  a  hurry 
perhaps  to  make  tracks  after  Jem." 

Flinders  Dick  drew  a  dirty  blue  envelope 
from  a  pocket  inside  his  jumper,  and  took 
from  it  some  rough  sheets  of  i)aper,  evi- 
dently torn  from  a  bushman's  notebook, 
which  he  handed  solemnly  to  the  police 
officer. 

McGrath  opened  out  the  paper  and 
perused  it  intently  for  a  minute  or  two, 
while  the  entire  party  hung  upon  words 
they  expected  him  to  say,  but  which  did 
not  come  with  readiness.  Clearly,  Mc- 
Grath was  exceedingly  astonished  and 
perplexed — and,  if  the  truth  were  known, 
a  little  disappointed. 

"This  seems  all  right,"  he  said  at  last. 

"Can't  you  tell  us  what  it's  about?" 
asked  Patsy  impatiently. 

Now,  Brian  Cordeaux  standing  close 
behind  Susan,  stepped  forward,  saying  in 
a  quiet,  commanding  way: 

"Let  me  have  that  paper!"  Turning 
to  Mr.  Galbraith,  he  added:  "I  think, 
sir,  perhaps  it's  best  for  me  to  look  at  this 
first  and  give  you  an  idea  of  what  it's 
about." 

He  took  the  document  from  Sergeant 
McGrath  and  in  his  turn  mastered  its 
contents.  It  may  be  remarked  that  his 
rapid  mental  digest  of  the  substance  of 
Flash  Sam's  complicated  deathbed  state- 
ment was  good  testimony  to  the  clearness 
of  Brian's  brain. 

"This  is,  as  my  friend,  Flinders  Dick, 
has  told  us,"  he  said,  "the  dying  deposition 
of  a  fellow  called  Flash  Sam — otherwise, 
it  appears,  Samuel  Burdon — taken  down 
from  his  own  lips  and  duly  witnessed  by  a 
certain  Peter  Rawlins,  described  as  part- 
ner with  Richard  Cross  at  the  Shark's 
Tooth  Claim,  and  by  Joseph  Cassidy  of 
Little  Caroline  Reef  on  the  Palmer  Dig- 
gings, and  sworn  to  on  affidavit  before 
John  Parkinson,  Police  Magistrate  in  the 
Palmer  District.     That's  right,  sergeant, 


144 


THE   CANADIAN   iVIAGAZINE 


isn't  it?"  And  he  looked  enquiringly  at 
the  police  officer,  who  had  a  discomfited 
air. 

"Better  read  it  over,  sorr — as  much  as 
you  can  make  head  or  tail  of,"  responded 
Sergeant  ;McGrath  sulkily.  "  Seems  as  if  I 
and  mv  men  had  been  made  fools  of  in- 
toirely." 

"My  word!  I  beheve  you,  captain," 
said  Flinders  Dick,  in  irrepressibly  cheer- 
ful tones.  "Yeou  read  it,  ^Ir.  Cordeaux. 
It's  all  square,  for  I  took  it  do\\Ti  mysel'. 
After  you've  done,  I'll  gev  up  my  show." 

Brian  read  obediently,  with  frequent 
skippings  of  irrelevant  matter,  relating  to 
Ratty  Bill's  ghost,  who,  according  to 
Flash  Sam,  had  lured  him  to  his  destruc- 
tion. 

"/,  Samuel  Burdon,  being  done  for  by 
Old  Dave,  and  hoping  for  mercy  on  my  soul, 
do  make  my  dying  confession.  I  declare, 
on  my  sacred  oath,  so  help  me  God!  that 
the  charge  I  laid  against  Jem  Wolfe  for 
having  murdered  Harry  the  Blower — who 
was  Harry  Galbraith  that  I  knew  at  Bun- 
dah  Station — was  a  lie.  I  swear  that  the 
tomahawk  Gentleman  James — thafs  Wolfe 
— thrriv  at  Harry  the  Blower  didn't  kill 
him,  but  only  stunned  him,  so  we  thought 
he  was  dead.  J  swear  I  found  it  out  after 
the  lot  had  cleared,  and  I  swear  Harry  was 
alive  when  I  left  him  in  my  hut  for  to  go 
and  bury  Ratty  Bill.  lAkewise,  I  hereby 
make  my  solemn  confession  that  I  killed 
Ratty  Bill  previous  to  this  by  sticking  my 
knife  into  him  when  we  had  a  scuffle  over 
Old  Dave's  nugget.  I  swear  likewise  that 
it  was  me  that  shook  Old  Dave  of  his  nugget, 
which  a  damned  Chinky  collared  from  me 
and  made  off  with  afterwards.  I  swear 
that  Ratty  Bill's  body  is  at  the  bottom  of 
Mickys  Shaft  in  Coolibah  Gully — the 
shaft  that  duffered  out.  I  swear  that  since 
I  done  it.  Ratty  Bill's  ghost  has  been 
haunting  me  and  drove  me  to  Mick's  Shaft 
to-night  on  purpose  for  Old  Dave  to  get 
hold  of  me  and  do  for  me." 

Brian  paused  a  moment.  Flinders 
Dick's  hand\ATiting  was  difficult  to  de- 
cipher, and  at  this  point,  there  was  a  good 
deal  about  Ratty  Bill's  ghost,  which  it 
seemed  unnecessary  to  read  aloud.  All 
present,  except  perhaps  AIcGrath,  who 
had  the  injured,  half -resigned  look  of  one 


defrauded  of  his  just  dues,  had  been 
listening  with  strained  nerves,  and  in  the 
short  silence,  ]SIr.  Galbraith's  voice  cried 
hoarsely:  "My  son — what  did  they  do  with 
my  son?" 

"Flash  Sam  goes  on  to  tell  that  he 
went  back  to  his  hut,  thinking  to  find 
Harry,  but  that  your  son  had  disappeared," 
said  Brian  with  deep  pity  in  his  tones,  and 
he  resumed  his  reading: 

"/  wanted  to  know  where  Harry  had 
gone,  because  I  was  afraid  he'd  peach,  for 
he  knew  I'd  killed  Ratty  Bill.  When  I 
come  back  near  morning,  from  burying 
Ratty  Bill,  I  looked  all  about  the  Gully  but  I 
couldn't  find  Harry.  Then,  I  saw  his 
horse  was  gone,  so  I  made  out  he'd  cleared 
too — most  like  to  catch  up  the  rest  and  be  in 
at  Hogan's  Show.  I  iircxr  had  much  idea 
of  Hogan's  Show,  which  has  duffered  out 
since,  but  I  thought  I'd  best  get  out  of  the 
place.  So  I  up  and  cleared  too,  and  made 
cuts  outside  the  Diggings  Country  in  case 
the  police  might  have  got  wind  of  the  job. 
Seemed  as  if  Harry  had  got  the  same  notion, 
and  as  if  we  was  bound  to  hit  each  other, 
for  I  come  across  him  on  a  dry  spell  a  little 
while  after,  when  I  was  making  for  a 
'dead  end'  I  knew  of.  It  turned  out  he'd 
been  trying  for  the  same  waterhole,  but 
when  I  come  up  to  it  there  was  not  a  drop 
of  water  in  it.  Harry  had  got  no  horse — I 
made  out  it  had  dropped  dead  under  him, 
and  there  we  were.  My  horse  was  close  up 
done,  and  my  water-bag  had  only  half  a 
pannikin  left.  Harry  was  mad  with 
thirst,  and  as  naked  as  when  he  was  born. 
And  that  means  a  chap  is  near  the  end. 
So  I  thought  to  myself  where  was  the  good 
of  my  half-pannikin  of  water,  and  not 
another  billabong  within  fifty  miles  that  I 
ever  heard.  It  must  be  certain  death  for 
both  of  us  unless  I  put  my  spurs  to  my 
horse — which  I  did,  and  left  him." 

A  bitter  cry  rang  from  Mr.  Galbraith; 
he  had  been  leaning  fon\'ard  in  the  chair, 
his  elbows  on  the  table,  supporting  his 
chin,  and  his  bloodshot  eyes  staring  out 
of  red  eyelids.  Then  he  covered  his  face, 
and  groaning  hke  the  Hebrew  father  of 
old,  cried:  "My  son!  my  son!" 

"Xaow,  Boss,  don't  take  on  like  that. 
Your  son's  not  dead."  Flinders  Dick  put 
his  rough  hand  on  Mr.  Galbraith's  shoul- 


THE    LOST   EARL   OF    ELLAN 


145 


der  and  urgently  addressed  Susan  and 
Brian. 

"You  know  what  I  told  you,  M  iss—  you 
know  Mr.  Cordeaux — the  Jiundah  black- 
boy,  Hinchinbrook  Island  way,  gev  me  the 
rights  of  the  story  which  I  told  to  Flash 
Sam  before  he  was  a  gone  'un,  thinkin'  it 
'ud  be  a  comfort  to  him  to  know  his  mate 
wasn't  dead  through  him  leaving  of  him. 
But  he  was  past  caring  then,  was  Flash 
Sam.  But  yeou  know — I  telled  you, 
Miss — there  came  a  tribe  of  Bundah 
blacks  in  the  very  nick  of  time  and  they 
reckernised  Harry  and  took  him  along 
with  them.  Yeou  know  how  the  rivers 
run  in  these  parts  in  a  dry  season.  Why, 
you  may  see  nothing  but  a  dry  four-mile 
wide  bed,  and  yet  there'll  be  branches  all 
alongside  of  it  and  you  might  be  quarter 
of  a  mile  from  a  waterhole  in  one  of  the 
branches  and  not  know  it.  That  was  how 
it  was  with  Harry.  Yeou  know  the  blacks 
can  find  water  when  a  bushman  can't.  I 
expect  that's  when  it  was  Harry  went  off 
his  head,  for  he's  a  bit  dotty  the  black- 
boy  said.  Wa-al,  no  doubt  it  was  jest  one 
thing  on  top  of  another,  or  maybe  he  ate 
some  of  them  maddening  berries  that 
grows  along  dry  river  beds.  A  chap's  as 
like  as  not  to  when's  he's  starving,  and  the 
damned  things  acts  straight  on  a  chap's 
brain  when  there's  nothing  else  in  his  pore 
stomach.  Harry'll  come  all  right — they 
mostly  do.  I  have  known  cases  cured  all 
right.  Never  fear!  Buck  up.  Boss! 
And  jest  you  wait  a  bit,  Mr.  Sergeant. 
Harry  GalbraitH'll  be  facing  the  lot  of  you 
like  a  man." 

Flinders  Dick  looked  round  triumphant- 
ly. It  must  be  confessed  that  he  rather 
enjoyed  the  situation  and  his  explanatory 
speech  flowed  all  the  freer  for  his  previous 
self -repression.  Thrusting  his  hands  deep 
into  his  breeches  pockets,  he  lolled  com- 
placently back  on  his  heels. 

"I  reckon  it's  about  my  turn  to  spout 
naow,"  he  began. 

"Wa-al,  after  that  row  you've  heard  of 
in  Flash  Sam's  humpey,  I  cut.  I  didn't 
want  to  think  no  more  of  what  had  hap- 
pened. But  Jem  had  a  tenderer  consci- 
ence than  me.  He''s  a  gentleman — yeou 
know,  Mr.  Cordeaux — and  he  went  up  in 
the  Quetta  thinking  to  spot  Flash  Sam  at 


Thursday  Island,  and  to  get  the  truth 
from  him,  and  was  wrecked  in  the  straits 
and  pretty  near  done  for.  But  I  come 
across  Flash  Sam  myself  at  the  settlement, 
and  he  told  me  Harry  the  Blower  was 
killed  for  certain  by  that  dashed  tomahawk 
and  I  believed  him,  like  a  jackass,  and  I 
told  Jem.  Wa-al,  Jem  was  terribly  down 
in  the  mouth.  He  was  sweet  on  a  gell,  )er 
see,  but,o'  course  he  couldn't  marry  her 
with  the  gallers  hanging  over  his  head. 
But  blow  me  if  he  wouldn't  go  and  .see 
that  gell,  just  to  smooth  her  down  a  bit — 
women  being  so  contrary,  and  then  dashed 
if  he  didn't  want  to  come  up  this  way  jest 

to  keep  a  promise  to  another  of  'em 

Dang  women,  I  said  to  him.  Chuck 
females,  I  said  to  him.  We've  got  a  good 
chanst  now  for  to  make  our  fortunes  and 
clear  out  of  this  rotten  old  country.  Let's 
go  up,  I  said,  to  the  place  where  I'd  been 
prospectin',  I  said,  where  I'd  struck  the 
colour — fair,  my  word!  But  Jem  had 
got  some  gentleman's  notion  about  doing 
the  right  thing,  and  so  we  parted  company. 
I  went  up  to  the  claim  and  he  come  south. 
But  he  was  laid  down  again  at  Cooktown 
with  fever,  and  when  he  pulled  up  at 
Townsville  afterwards  he  was  that  bad 
again,  he  couldn't  move  for  a  week. 
Wa-al,  Pd  gone  to  put  things  straight  with 
the  Goldfields  Warden  at  the  Palmer 
Diggings,  and  there  I  come  across  Wall- 
eyed Bill  and  Califoniian  Joe — Joe 
Cassidy,  yeou  know — and  Wall-eyed  Bill 
he  put  me  up  to  Harry  the  Blow^er  being 
the  son  o'  the  Boss  here,  and  made  out  he 
and  Old  Never  Despair,  and  Joe  Cassidy 
— w^ho  was  in  it  too  by  that  time — 'ud  get 
the  reward  Kirby  was  offering  for  inform- 
ation. Wa-al  I  WTote  off  straight  to  catch 
Jem,  thinking  I'd  stop  him  from  going 
further.  But  he  wired  me  back  that  he 
was  starting  south  and  that  he  was  jolly 
well  going  to  kerry  out  his  plans.  So  then 
I  thought  I'd  nip  along  Coolibah  Gully, 
where  I'd  heard  Flash  Sam  was  and  see 
how  the  cat  were  jumpin'.  Flash  Sam  was 
there  sure  enough,  prow-ling  about  Mick's 
Shaft.  There  was  something  he'd  made 
to  do  at  that  shaft  and  I  never  could  tell 
what  it  was,  though  I  can  gev  a  pretty 
good  guess  naow.  Old  Dave  was  up  there 
too.     Yeou  know,  he'd  turned  hatter  since 


146 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


Ratty  Bill  disappeared,  and  he  was  just 
mad  over  losing  his  nugget." 

At  this  juncture,  Dick,  observing  signs  of 
anxious  impatience  among  his  hearers, 
brought  his  story  to  an  abrupt  close. 

"Hold  on  half  a  minute,"  he  said,  with 
a  bland  and  imperturbable  smile,  "the 
plum's  jest  a  comin.'  One  night  when  me 
and  Lean  Peter,  a  pal  of  mine,  was  scootin' 
round  on  the  quiet,  we  seen  the  p^'r  of  'em 
— Flash  Sam  and  Old  Dave — who'd  a 
de\-iUsh  stiff  arm,  though  you  wouldn't 
think  it,  having  a  hand-to-hand  fight  on 
the  edge  of  Mick's  Shaft.  But  when  we 
come  up  we  was  too  late  to  stop  it,  for  Old 
Dave  had  somehow  managed  to  pitch  Sam 
down  the  shaft,  and  there  he  was  with  his 
back  broken,  swearing  like  hell  that  it  was 
Ratty  Bill's  ghost  who'd  helped  Dave  do  it. 
But  we  got  him  up,  and  we  done  the  best 
we  could  for  him  and  I  went  at  him — I  did 
— to  confess  the  truth  before  he  died,  me 
and  Lean  Peter  between  us,  and  there^s 
the  dokkyment.'" 

Flinders  Dick  stopped  from  sheer  lack  of 
breath.  But  the  attention  of  the  people 
in  the  parlour  was  suddenly  distracted 
from  him.  They  had  become  aware  of 
the  entry  of  two  other  persons  who  had 
appeared  noiselessly  on  the  scene.  No 
one  had  heard  them  come,  for  in  the  ex- 
citement of  the  troopers'  arrival,  and  of 
the  disclosure  which  followed  it,  other 
sounds  had  passed  unheeded.  So  the 
faint  echo  of  horses'  feet  was  not  noticed 
bv  anv  one,  as  a  httle  party  rode  quietly 
and  carefully  round  the  fringe  of  gidya 
scrub  towards  the  house. 

Now  Wolfe,  gaimt  and  haggard,  leant 
against  a  lintel  of  the  window,  and  at 
sight  of  him  Dick  gave  a  cheerful  crow, 
which,  however,  broke  in  his  throat.  "  Hel- 
lo! Jem,  old  mate!"  he  mumbled,  lean- 
ing forward  with  eager,  outstretched 
hands,  but  Wolfe  remained  motionless,  his 
wear\'  eves  passing  enquiringly  from 
figure  to  figure  as  if  questioning  dumbly 
what  each  present  thought  of  him.  There 
was  nothing  of  assurance  in  his  gaze. 
Nothing  of  triumph,  but  he  looked  like  a 
man  who  after  long  stress  beheld,  even  in 
that  troubled  scene,  a  vision  of  peace. 
Beside  him  stood  Oora,  erect  and  smiling, 
though  pale   as   a   \\Taith   herself.     One 


hand  raised  to  ensure  silence,  she  swiftly 
crossed  the  room. 

"Father,"  she  said.  And  with  gestures 
that  were  gentle  but  insistent  she  drew  the 
old  man's  hands  down  from  his  face. 
"We  have  found  Harry,  Mr.  Wolfe  and  I. 
We  have  brought  him  home.  Come  and 
see  him." 

The  old  man  stared  at  her  blankly. 

"Come  and  see  him,"  repeated  Oora. 
"He  is  in  his  own  room.  We  took  liim 
there  because  his  head  is  very  weak,  and  he 
talks  like  a  little  child.  But  he  would  like 
to  see  you.  Dad.  Won't  you  come  to  him  ?" 

The  old  man  tottered  to  his  feet.  He, 
too,  was  weak  and  shaken  after  the  blow 
he  had  received,  and  that  terrible  picture 
his  fancy  had  conjured  up  of  Harry  d}ing 
alone  of  thirst  in  the  Bush.  But  at  Oora's 
words  he  became  more  like  himself.  A 
fresh  flow  of  energy  seemed  to  be  surging 
through  him. 

"Harry  asked  for  you,"  said  Oora. 
"He  recognised  your  picture,  the  one  that 
used  to  hang  in  his  room  when  he  was  a 
boy.  Come,"  and  she  drew  her  father 
towards  the  French  windows.  This  time 
he  was  eager  to  be  gone.  Susan  attempt- 
ed to  follow,  but  Oora  sharply  motioned 
her  to  remain,  and  she  shrank  back  into 
the  shadow,  while  their  father  stumbled 
ha.stily  over  the  threshold  and,  led  by 
Oora,  passed  along  the  verandah  to  a 
skillion  room  that  was  never  used,  for  it 
had  Harry^'s  things  in  it.  Every  one  in 
the  parlour  heard  the  door  open  softly — 
heard  the  muffled  en,-,  "My  son!  my 
son!"  and  heard  the  queer,  broken,  husky 
response,  like  the  voice  of  some  wounded 
creature  that  had  found  rest.  And  then 
the  door  shut,  and  Oora  stole  back  along 
the  verandah. 

Brian  had  dra\Mi  Su.san's  arm  within  his 
o\\Ti  and  led  her  up  to  Wolfe. 

"You  won't  refuse  to  shake  hands  now," 
he  said  cheerily.  "We  are  cousins,  you 
know,  Jem.  Let  me  be  the  first  to  tell 
our  kind  friends  here  who  you  really  are. 
They  ought  to  know.  But,  perhaps  you 
haven't  heard?" 

"About  Uncle  Eflan  and  poor  Linne?" 
Wolfe  held  out  both  hands  warmly.  "  Yes 
I  saw  it  in  the  papers,  but  as  things  were 


A    LITTLE    IMMIGRANT 


147 


I  could  scarcely  put  forward  my  claim. 
Now,"  and  he  turned  tenderly  to  Oora, 
"  I  have  some  one  else  to  consider,  who  will 
make  it  well  worth  my  while  to  do  so." 

Brian  was  looking  at  Susan  and  in  his 
mind  was  the  thought  that  she  would  have 
made  a  fairer  Countess  of  Elian.   But  anv 


shadow  of  constraint  was  dissipated  by  little 
Polly,  who  had  been  solemnly  watching 
the  progress  of  affairs  from  half-caste 
Charlotte's  arms.  Now  she  clapped  her 
hands  to  claim  attention: 

"I  b'lieve   mine   been   get   Mm   plenty 
brother  belonging  to  me,"  she  remarked. 


THE    END 


A  Little  Immigrant 

By  ALICE  JONES,  author  of  ''Bubbles   We  Buy,"  ''The 
Night  Hawk,"  etc. 


T  was  midwinter,  and  once 
or  twice  a  week  the  great 
liners  were  disgorging  their 
forlorn  steerage  crowds  into 
the  new  Canadian  land  of 
their  .seeking. 

From  thatched  English  villages,  or 
sordid  town  streets;  from  remote  Swedish 
farms  and  far-off  unpronounceable  places 
in  Eastern  Europe  they  came,  some  with 
youth  and  high  hopes,  some  worn  and 
middle-aged,  with  as  little  conscious 
volition  as  driven  cattle.  After  the  steam- 
ers, the  waiting  cars  engulfed  them, 
though  here  and  there,  from  illness  or 
poverty  or  accident,  a  forlorn  waif  dropped 
out  of  the  stream,  perhaps  to  be  sent  back 
across  the  just  traversed  weary  waste  of 
water,  perhaps  to  find  temporary  refuge 
or  friends  in  a  hospital. 

"Please,  miss,  can  you  tell  me  if  this 
here's  the  ward  where  I'll  find  the  little 
English  boy  as  broke  his  leg  on  the 
viyage?" 

The  speaker  was  a  ruddy  artilleryman, 
looking  very  big  in  his  rough  khaki 
uniform,  bigger  perhaps  from  his  environ- 
ment of  puny,  pale  faces  and  shrunken 
forms  stretching  down  the  vista  of  little 
white  beds  in  the  children's  ward  of  the 
city  hospital.  As  though  to  draw  a  vicar- 
ious strength  from  his  hearty  manhood, 
each  weary  face  was  turned  to  watch  him 
where  he  stood,  in  flushed  good-nature, 
confronting  pretty  nurse  Rosalie  whom 
the  children  looked  on  as  their  peculiar 
property. 


They  dimly  felt  a  pride  of  ownership 
in  the  dark  hair  that  curled  all  round  the 
white  cap  as  though  to  escape  from  its 
Ijondage,  in  the  soft  curves  that  made  the 
blue  cotton  dress  fit  so  smoothly,  in  the 
rosy  tinted  face  with  its  pleasant  smile. 

"When  I  looks  at  you  last  thing  fore  I 
shuts  my  eyes,  then  I  dreams  of  the  ripe 
apples  in  the  orchard  to  home,"  said  a 
small  country  boy  lying  for  weary  months 
with  a  weight  fastened  to  his  leg. 

That  pleasant  smile  was  well  in  evi- 
dence now  as  she  held  out  her  hand  for 
the  ticket  he  had  received  in  the  office. 
Misunderstanding  the  gesture  he  solemnlv 
took  that  hand  in  his  own  and  gave  it  a 
ponderous  shake. 

Nurse  Rosalie's  colour  deepened,  and 
she  felt  the  scrutiny  of  rows  of  eyes  eager 
for  new  sensations. 

But,  used  to  live  under  the  public  gaze, 
and  perhaps  feeling,  like  the  children,  a 
pleasure  in  the  contrast  of  his  stalwart 
strength,  she  responded  graciously  to  his 
question : 

"Little  Nat  Converse?  Oh,  yes;  he 
over  dere  by  de  end  window.  I'm  glad, 
me,  dat  you  know  him.  He  lonely  and 
frets  when  de  oder  children  have  friends 
come  to  see  dem." 

Her  eager  bro\^'n  eyes  and  her  queer 
English  flustered  the  artiller\Tnan  a  bit, 
and  he  shifted  a  brown  paper  parcel  from 
one  arm  to  the  other  as  he  answered : 

"Well,  it's  not  to  say  that  I  know  him 
exactly,  but  I  seen  in  the  paper  as  he  and 
his  pa   come  from   Maidenhead   on   the 


148 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


Thames,  at  home  in  England,  and  my 
father  being  a  waterman,  it  was  there  as 
I  lived  when  I  was  a  boy,  afore  I  listed  and 
got  sent  near  all  over  the  world,  ending  up 
here  in  Canady,  so  I  thought " 

"Oh,  dat  was  kind  of  you!"  she  inter- 
rupted, not  seeing  an  immediate  prospect 
of  coming  to  the  point,  and  being  a  busy 
person.  'Tf  you'U  come  over  to  his  bed," 
and  she  led  the  way  towards  a  far  comer, 
the  sergeant  following  with  somewhat  the 
sensations  of  an  elephant  marching 
through  a  sheep  pasture. 

A  pair  of  shining  blue  eyes,  enlarged  by 
iUness,  and  a  shock  of  red  hair  above  a 
peaked  face,  were  what  the  sergeant  looked 
dov\-n  on. 

He  had  seen  the  sudden  illnesses  of  Cape 
and  Eg}'ptian  campaigns  and  his  smile 
lost  something  of  its  breadth  as  he 
marked  the  flush  on  the  hollow  cheek  and 
the  hurried  rise  and  fall  of  the  narrow 
chest. 

As  if  in  answer  to  his  thought  the  nurse 
said: 

"Nat  has  had  what  de  doctor  call 
pneumony" — she  pronounced  the  word 
with  proud  distinctness.  "That  make 
him  bad  beside  his  broken  leg,  but  now  he 
get  all  right,  don't  you,  Xat  ?" 

"I  s'pose  so,"  said  a  thin,  husky 
voice.  "WTio's  that?"  the  blue  eyes 
taking  in  with  interest  every'  detail  of 
button  and  strap.  The  big  hand  was 
again  thrust  forward,  this  time  engulfing 
the  bony  one  surrendered  to  it  in  a  non- 
committal fashion. 

"I'm  Sergeant  Stubbs  of  the  Riyal 
Artiller}',  and  seein'  as  I  come  from 
Maidenhead  mvself,  I  just  thought  I'd 
look  in " 

The  critical  inspection  changed  into  an 
eager  stare. 

"Not  Maidenhead,  in  En  gland?  ^^ 

"The  same.  And  I  hopes  before  I  die 
as  I'll  take  a  punt  up-stream  to  Cookham 
or  ^larlow  again.  WTio  eat  puppy-pie 
xmder  ]Marlow  bridge,  eh?" 

A  rapturous  if  hoarse  laugh  caused 
several  heads  in  neighbouring  beds  to  be 
turned.  It  was  the  first  time  that  a  laugh 
had  been  heard  from  that  bed  since  little 
Nat  Converse  had  occupied  it. 

This  local  shibboleth,  for  some  forgot- 
ten reason  deadliest  insult  to  any  Thames 


bargeman,  effectually  broke  down  the 
barriers. 

"Oh,  did  you  ever  call  that  out  to  a 
bargeman  ?  I  did,  once,  and  then  I  ran — 
didn't  I  run — "  and  little  Xat  beamed 
at  the  memory,  though  he  added  with  a 
sigh:  "Oh,  I  do  wish  I  was  home  again!" 

But  the  nurse  stiU  lingered  and  the 
sergeant  felt  that  it  would  be  advisable  to 
include  her  in  the  conversation. 

"You  see,  miss,  I  think  folks  as  lives 
on  rivers  gets  fond  of  them,"  he  explained; 
then  with  a  happy  thought :  "Perhaps  you 
might  happen  to  have  lived  by  a  river 
yourseK?" 

Nurse  Rosalie,  who  was  of  a  French 
Acadian  family,  shook  her  pretty  head 
with  national  vehemence. 

"Oh  no,  I  live  by  the  sea,  me!  Dere 
are  big  rocks  and  de  waves  dey  make 
a  great  noise  in  de  storms.  It  is  near  de 
big  coal  mines  where  my  fader  and  my 
broders  work.  Ah,  but  first  I  was  home- 
sick sometimes,  me!" 

The  sergeant  stared  at  this  new  and 
attractive  t\-pe  with  all  his  honest  eyes,  and 
the  little  immigrant  watched  his  two 
friends  with  the  proud  complacency  of  a 
showman. 

"You  don't  happen  to  think  of  going 
back  though?"  the  sergeant  asked  with 
a  hint  in  his  voice  that  such  a  course  would 
be  regrettable. 

But  this  suggestion  was  too  much  for 
little  Nat,  w^ho  put  in  eagerly: 

"Oh,  no,  please  sir!  ^^"hen  I'm  well 
she's  going  to  take  me  out  to  the  country 
where  father's  gone — such  a  hard  name 
they  call  it — Sas-kat-che-wan "  he  pro- 
nounced slowly.  "She'U  have  to,  for  she 
said  as  it  would  be  a  shame  to  send  me  aU 
the  way  alone  with  my  name  sewed  on  to 
me,  like  they  told  father  they'd  have  to." 
He  paused  as  if  to  consider  the  situation 
and  then  added  finally: 

"Besides,  I  want  her  to  stay  there  a,nd 
take  care  of  me.  Mother's  dead  and 
father  an'  me  are  so  lonely.  So  she  could 
be  my  mother." 

At  this  the  sergeant  laughed  and  looked 
at  the  nurse  who  blushed  finely. 

"I  guess  you'd  better  see  what  your 
father  says  before  you  give  them  sort  of 
invitations,  my  man,"  he  said. 

To  change  the  subject  he  proceeded  to 


A    LITTLE    IMMIGRANT 


149 


open  his  paper  parcel,  and  j)r(jduce  a 
Noah's  Ark,  which  was  hailed  with  rapture, 
and  the  animals  were  set  in  riggly  marches 
on  the  level  edge  of  the  bedclothes. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  many  more 
such  visits,  though  as  the  winter  days 
went  on  the  small  immigrant  seemed  to  be 
slackening  his  hold  on  life,  the  toys  that 
the  sergeant  brought  often  failing  to  rouse 
him,  though  he  nearly  always  had  a  smile 
for  tales  of  his  friend's  youth  on  the  famil- 
iar Thames  banks  he  was  to  see  no  more. 

Besides  reminiscences  of  England  the 
sergeant  had  fallen  into  a  way  of  descant- 
ing on  his  neat  little  cottage  within  the 
precincts  of  the  fort  down  at  the  harbour's 
mouth  between  the  thick  spruce  woods 
and  the  sea. 

"From  what  you  say,  I'm  l)lest  if  I  don't 
think  it  would  remind  you  of  your  home, 
miss;  that  I've  never  seen  any  coal  mines 
round,  more's  the  pity,  for  they'd  be  handy 
in  this  bitter,  bad  weather." 

Nurse  Rosalie  laughed  and  blushed  and 
seemed  to  think  that  the  cottage  must  be  a 
very  nice  place,  even  if  it  did  lack  coal 
mines. 

It  happened  one  week  that  visiting  days 
at  the  ho.spital  clashed  with  military  duties, 
so  that  little  Nat  did  not  see  his  friend. 

On  the  Saturday,  an  envelope  directed 
in  a  big,  childish  hand  reached  the  artillery- 
man. It  contained  a  laboriously  written 
letter : 

"  Dear  Mister  Sergent, — I  think  I'm 
never  going  to  father.  Too  far  for  a 
little  chap  like  me.  Pleese  mary  nurse 
Rosalie,  and  I'll  come  stay  with  you. 
Get  her  to  were  her  red  Sunday  dress. 
Yours  truly, 

Nathaniel  Converse." 

The  sergeant  was  by  now  familiar  with 
the  nurse's  Sunday  hours,  and  the  next 
evening  about  dusk  he  joined  the  groups 
going  to  vespers  in  the  grev  granite 
cathedral. 

It  was  not  the  first  time  he  had  been  there, 
and  to  the  English-bred  man,  the  hghts, 
the  music,  the  movements. of  this  ahen 
sepvice  were  vaguely  impressive  and  seem- 
ed part  of  the  exotic  charm  which  the 
French  girl  had  woven  round  him.  To- 
night he  was  doubtful  if  she  would  be  there, 
for  the  lights  from  the  open  church  door 


.streamed  forth  on  a  white  whirl  of  snow 
driven  on  a  bitter  north-east  wind. 

All  day  the  snow  had  fallen,  and  to- 
wards night  the  wind  rose,  piling  the  peak- 
ed drifts  high  at  the  street  corners.  The 
trams,  after  struggling  for  an  hour  or  so, 
had  st(jj)j)ed  running,  and  the  great  bulk 
of  the  dull  red  snow-j)lough,  looking  like  a 
huge  guillotine,  moved  alone  through  the 
deserted  streets  amidst  its  own  white  whirl- 
wind. But  for  all  the  storm  the  nurse's 
red  hat  was  there  in  its  usual  corner,  and 
the  sergeant  got  a  seat  a  little  to  one  side 
where  he  could  watch  the  curve  of  her 
cheek,  and  the  loose  dark  hair  above  it. 

Surely  the  red  hat  was,  to-night,  bowed 
lower  than  usual;  surely  the  whole  pose  of 
the  figure  revealed  a  more  devout  absorp- 
tion; and  yes,  surely  the  light  caught 
something  on  her  cheek  which  must  be  a 
tear.  The  stolid  Saxon  heart  stirred  with  a 
responsive  tumult,  a  tumult  tender  and  pro- 
tective at  this  hint  of  some  unknown  trouble. 

A  new  shyness  made  the  sergeant  hang 
back  as  the  crowd  bore  the  red  hat  out 
with  it,  but  he  was  close  on  her  traces  as 
she  went  up  the  hill.  There  was  no  pre- 
tence at  a  path  left  on  the  sidewalk,  and 
the  returning  church-goers  followed  the 
space  between  the  rails  temporarily  cleared 
by  the  snow-plough. 

This  was  all  right  as  long  as  it  lasted, 
but  the  way  to  the  hospital  lay  over  an 
exposed  open  slope,  and  soon  the  nurse 
was  floundering  in  the  drifts  that  taxed  her 
all  lifelong  skill.  This  sight  quenched 
the  sergeant's  new  bashfulness,  and  a 
famihar  voice  sounded  at  her  ear: 

"I  expect,  miss,  you'll  be  needing  my 
arm  if  you're  going  to  get  back  to  the  hos- 
pital to-night.  You  haven't  got  a  friend 
as  lives  handy,  by  any  chance,  have  you?" 

"Ah,  but  I  been  out  worse  nights  dan 
dis,  and  besides  I  must  get  back  for  sure!" 
she  ended  in  a  distressful  fashion. 

"Nothing  wTong,  eh?" 

Her  arm  was  now  tucked  under  his,  and 
they  were  making  better  progress. 

"  No — only — "  she  had  to  get  her  breath 
in  gasps,  for  the  wind — "little  Nat  died 
dis  afternoon  and  I  want  to  see  him  again 
before  dey  take  him  away." 

For  all  the  storm  her  sob  was  plainly 
perceptible  and  his  grunt  echoed  it. 

"Dear,  dear,  and  I  never  saw  the  poor 


150 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


little  chap  to  say  good-bye  1  That's  too 
bad  I  You  didn't  happen  to  see  the  letter 
he  wTote  me,  miss?"  he  demanded 
valiantly. 

"Xol'  A  letter?  I  never  knew!" 
"Well,  then,"  with  a  sudden  resolution, 
"I'll  show  it  to  you.  He's  left  me  a 
legacy,  you  see,  miss.  Here's  a  lamp-post. 
I'll  hold  up  my  coat  to  shelter  you  if  you'll 
try  to  read  it." 

With  the  night's  wild  swirl  around  her, 
the  white  electric  Hght  on  her  face,  and  the 


sergeant's  big*figure  between  her  and  the 
dri\ing  snow,  the  nurse  did  her  best  to 
decipher  the  little  immigrant's  letter. 

"Oh,  dearl"  she  said  with  a  gasp,  that 
was  something  between  a  sob  and  a  laugh, 
and  the  sergeant  took  this  as  a  signal  of 
comprehension. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "  I  ain't  goin'  to  be  done 
out  of  poor  Kttle  Nat's  legacy,  am  I  ?" 

"I  s'pose  not,"  were  the  words  he  made 
out  by  bending  his  head,  and  then  the  big 
mihtarv  overcoat  engulfed  her  altogether. 


Canadian  Resources  Plus  American  Capital 


Bv  E.  ir.  JOHXSOX 


IREATHES  there  a  man 
with  soul  so  dead,  who 
never  to  himself  hath  said, 
this  is  my  o\ati,  my  native 
land";  and  yet  the  old 
adage  of  "WTiat  we  have  we  hold,"  the 
boast  of  aU  true  Canadians,  sinks  into 
obh\ion  when  the  dollars  and  cents  that 
dominate  the  world  of  to-day  are  brought 
into  play  to  chnch  the  bargain. 

Perhaps  in  no  part  of  the  world  at  the 
present  time  is  this  more  noticeable  than 
in  the  Dominion  of  Canada,  particularly 
in  the  western  section,  where  from  On- 
tario to  the  Pacific  Coast,  two-thirds  of  the 
countr\-  is  in  the  hands  of  influential 
American  capitalists. 

Ask  the  loyal  Canadian  to-day  what  he 
thinks  of  selling  Western  Canada  or  any 
part  of  the  fair  Dominion  to  his  Yankee 
cousins,  and  immediately  his  face  will 
grow  red  with  indignation  at  the  thought 
of  such  a  transaction;  yet  before  the  ruddy 
hue  has  died  from  his  countenance,  he  has 
well  under  way  a  deal  whereby  many 
acres  of  Northwest  wheat  district.  Pacific 
coast  timber  lands,  or  British  Columbia 
mining  territor\-  will  be  transferred  from 
the  hold  of  this  staunch  British  subject  to 
the  same  ^American  friend  who  was  so 
unfortunate  but  a  short  time  before  to 
ofi"end  the  loyal  dignity  of  Canada's 
faithful  property-vendor. 

In  British  Columbia,  the  life  and  enter- 
prise of  the  American  capitalist  is  most 


marked.  Their  syndicates  control  the 
development  of  our  mining  and  timber 
properties,  our  tanning  and  pulp  manu- 
facture, and  are  gradually  securing  railroad 
rights  that  will  permit  of  their  ofi"ering  to 
the  producer  in  the  Dominion  of  Canada 
prices  that  will  give  the  American  railroads 
the  major  portion  of  the  seaboard-bound 
traffic,  both  east  and  west. 

Selling  C'ne's  birthright  for  a  mess  of 
pottage  has  always  been  considered  a  sin, 
but  the  face  of  selling  one's  countn,'  for  a 
few  paltry  dollars  is  featured  with  an 
appalling  future,  when  should  international 
complications  arise  at  any  time,  the 
wheels  of  industry  in  the  Dominion  of 
Canada  could  be  suddenly  stopped  and 
the  countn'  left  in  one  vast  idleness. 
American  capital  has  been  a  large  factor 
in  the  development  of  the  Dominion  of 
Canada,  but  the  hand  of  the  United  States 
financier  controls  our  industries,  particu- 
larly in  British  Columbia,  where  less  than 
half  a  dozen  sawmills  out  of  the  several 
hundred  plants  in  operation,  and  but  four 
operating  mines  are  under  the  control  of 
Canadian  or  British  capital.  Financiers 
in  France  hold  the  stock  of  one  mine,  and 
without  exception  the  remainder  belong  to 
American  sxiidicates. 

The  question  is  frequently  asked: 
"Where  is  British  capital?"  that  it  is 
not  invested  where  the  returns  are  as  good 
as  those  from  Canada,  but  the  explanation 
has  been  found  in  the  fact  that  British 


AT   WILLIAM   MacLENNAN'S   GRAVE 


151 


capitalists,  trusting  to  the  honesty  of  the 
middlemen,  have  been  too  often  duped  by 
the  wily  gold-brick  man,  who,  realising  the 
possibilities  in  distance,  has  found  a  ready 
tield  in  which  to  sell  stock  in  fake  pros- 
pects. Thousands  of  dollars  have  thus 
been  sunk  in  baseless  mining  pro])ositions 
supposed  to  exist  in  British  Columbia,  and 
the  failure  of  these  stocks  to  give  any 
returns  has  made  the  trans-oceanic  finan- 
cier leary  of  British  Columbia  mines  and 
mining. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  proximity  of  the 
United  States  made  it  possible  for  the 
capitalists  of  that  country  to  supervise 
every  investment  in  Canadian  mines  by 
expert  engineers,  who  bought  nothing  but 
the    best,    and    in    this    manner,    British 


Columbia  gold,  copper,  silver,  iron  and 
coal  properties,  together  with  our  best 
timber  limits  and  largest  sawmills,  have 
gone  over  into  the  hands  of  the  shrewd 
American  financier  or  the  influential 
syndicates  that  control  the  largest  mines 
in  the  United  States.  These  people  have 
made  mining  in  British  Columbia  pay, 
because  of  the  expert  supervision  given  it. 
The  general  feeling  has  been  against 
the  appropriation  of  American  capital  to 
develop  the  Dominion  of  Canada,  but 
indiviclual  deals  have  appeared  so  small 
in  the  eyes  of  the  vendor  that  it  was  not 
realised  until  too  late  the  enormous  hold 
the  United  States  was  getting  on  Canada 
on  the  plan  of  "get  the  acres  and  the  miles 
will  look  after  themselves." 


At  William  MacLennan's  Grave' 


NEAR   FLORENCE 

BY    DUNCAN    CAMPBELL    SCOTT 

TTERE  where  the  cypress  tall 
Shadows  the  stucco  wall. 
Bronze  and  deep, 
Where  the  chrysanthemums  blow. 
And  the  roses — blood  and  snow — 
He  lies  asleep. 

Florence  dreaming  afar. 
Memories  of  foray  and  war. 

Murmurs  still; 
The  certosa  crowns  with  a  cold 
Cloud  of  snow  and  gold 

The  olive  hill. 

What  has  he  now  for  the  streams 
Born  sweet  and  deep  with  dreams 

From  the  cedar  meres  ? 
Only  the  Amo's  flow, 


*The  last  days  of  AA'illiam  MacLennan,  poet  and  novelist,  were 
spent  in  Italy  seeking  ease  from  suffering.  Under  those  sunny  skies, 
far  from  the  Canada  he  loved,  he  breathed  his  last.  The  magnificent 
legacy  of  song  and  story  which  he  has  left  us,  must  be  our  solace. 


152  THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 

Turbid,  and  weary,  and  slow 
With  blood  and  tears. 

What  has  he  now  for  the  song 
Of  the  boatmen,  joyous  and  long, 

Where  the  rapids  shine? 
Only  the  sound  of  toil, 
WTiere  the  peasants  press  the  soil 

For  the  oil  and  wine. 

Spirit-fellow  in  sooth 

With  bold  La  Salle  and  Duluth, 

And  La  Verandrj-e, — 
Nothing  he  has  but  rest, 
Deep  in  his  cypress  nest 

With  memory. 

Hearts  of  steel  and  of  fire, 
Why  do  ye  love  and  aspire, 

When  follows 
Death — all  your  passionate  deeds, 
Garnered  with  rust  and  with  weeds 

In  the  hollows? 

"  God  that  hardened  the  steel. 
Bid  the  flame  leap  and  reel, 

Gave  us  unrest; 
We  act  in  the  dust  afar, 
In  a  star  beyond  your  star, 

His  behest. 

"We  leave  you  dreams  and  names 
Still  we  are  iron  and  flames, 

Biting  and  bright; 
Into  some  virgin  world, 
Champions,  we  are  hurled, 

Of  venture  and  fight." 

Here  where  the  shadows  fall, 
From  the  cypress  by  the  wall. 

Where  the  roses  are, — 
Here  is  a  dream  and  a  name, 
There,  like  a  rose  of  flame. 

Rises — a  star. 


SOME 

Q4NADIAN 
Q)UNTI^QjJBS 


Caledon  Mountain  Trout  Club 
Inglewood,  Ont. 


-153 


ii 


1-54 


155 


156 


157 


158 


159 


160 


TAKIXG    CACAO    BEANS    FROM    THE    POD?    IN    TRINIDAD,    B.W.I. 


The  Making  of  Chocolates 


Bv  XORMAX  PATTERSOX 


to 


T  will  be  the  purpose  of  this 
article  to  show  the  origin  of 
chocolate;  to  give  the  history 
of  the  famous  Cacao  Bean 
from  which  chocolate  is  made; 
investigate  chocolate  as  a  food;  to 
describe  its  uses  in  the  making  of  confec- 
tionery, and  to  illustrate  the  whole  with 
pictures  and  particulars  of  a  Canadian 
confectionery  factory  of  the  best  type. 

THE   BEGINNING 

The  modem  history  of  chocolate  is  as 
romantic  as  the  introduction  of  tobacco 
smoking  among  the  Anglo-Saxons  by  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh,  ^^^len  Cortez  arrived  in 
Mexico  in  15 19,  he  found  the  Mexicans 
making  a  drink  from  ground  beans.  He 
introduced  it  into  Spain,  where  the  secret 
was  closelv  guarded  for  some  time.  Later, 
information  regarding  this  popular  drink 
passed  over  Europe  and  into  England. 
The  first  English  advertisement  of  it  is 

6—161 


said  to  have  appeared  in  a  London  paper 
in  1657.  It  was  nearly  one  hundred  years 
later  that  the  people  of  ^Massachusetts 
acquired  the  habit  from  the  \^'est  Indies. 
It  is  said  that  among  the  Indians  of 
Mexico  it  was  more  highly  regarded  than 
wine.  It  was  probably  more  of  a  drink 
than  a  food  with  them.  In  their  prepara- 
tion of  it  they  used  it  cold,  beating  and 
stirring  it  until  it  frothed.  These  beans 
grow  on  a  tree  technically  known  as  the 
"Broma  Cacao."  The  word  "Cocoa" 
is  a  corruption  of  "Cacao,"  and  "Choco- 
late" is  a  further  development.  The 
name  of  the  Mexican  drink  was  "Cacahu- 
alto."  The  cacao  is  a  tender  tree,  growing 
in  tropical  districts,  requiring  the  umbra- 
geous protection  of  larger  trees.  It  grows 
from  seed,  bears  its  first  fruit  when  about 
six  years  old,  comes  to  maturity  at  ten 
years  of  age,  and  finally  grows  to  a  height 
of  twenty  to  thirty  feet.  The  weight  of 
seeds  produced  annually  runs  from  one  to 


162 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


PODS  ON  BRAXCH  OF  CACAO  TREE 

eight  pounds,  but  probably  averages  two 
and  one-half  pounds.  The  blossom  is 
small,  pinkish-white,  and  wax-like  in  ap- 
pearance. It  grows  out  of  the  main  trunk 
or  older  branches.  A\Tien  the  pod  is 
formed  it  is  of  a  golden  colour,  is  from  eight 
to  fifteen  inches  in  length,  two  to  six  inches 
in  thickness,  and  is  exceedingly  hard. 
Each  pod  contains  from  twenty  to  thirtv- 
five  ''  beans  "  or  seeds.  They  are  cut  from 
the  trees  by  pruning  knives  on  the  ends  of 
long  poles,  spHt  open  and  the  "beans" 
extracted  therefrom. 


Haiti 11.000  bags 

Surinam 10,000  " 

Cevlon 10,000  ■' 

Otliers 17,900  •' 

Of  course  the  quality  varies.  Vene- 
zuelan cocoa  is  probably  the  best  and  sells 
iis  high  as  thirty-five  cents  a  pound,  while 
that  from  Africa  and  Haiti  brings  abovit 
eight  cents.  A  cocoa  or  chocolate  may 
thus  be  pure  and  still  vary  considerably 
in  value  on  account  of  the  flavour. 

An  analysis  of  the  cacao  bean  or  raw 
cocoa  gives  the  following  result: 

Fat— Cocoa-Butter -50.00 

Nitrogenous  Compounds 20.00 

Starch 10.00 

Cellulose 2.00 

Theobromine 2  .  00 

Saline  Substance? 4 .  00 

Water 10.00 

Others 2.00 

100.00 
COCOA    AXD    CHOCOLATE 

Cocoa  and  chocolate,  as  the  housekeeper 
knows  them,  are  each  produced  from  the 
cacao  bean.  These  beans  contain  fifty 
per  cent,  of  fat  or  "cocoa-butter,"  as  it  is 
called.  To  produce  breakfast  or  com- 
mercial cocoa,  the  oil  is  taken  out  of  the 
beans;  to  produce  chocolate,  the  oil  is  left 
in  and  sugar,  spice  or  vanilla  added. 

To  produce  breakfast  cocoa,  the  seeds 
or  beans  are  shelled  and  then  ground  in 


SOURCE   OF   SUPPLY 

The  world's  demand  for  cacao  beans, 
as  they  are  called,  is  quite  large.  A 
quarter  of  a  billion  pounds  are  required 
annually,  made  up  ajjproximately  as 
follows : 

Great  Britain 4.5,(11)0,000  lbs. 

France 4S,000,00(;»  " 

Germany 60,000,000  " 

United  States 7.3,000,000  " 

The  sources  of  supply  are  various.  The 
stocks  received  in  New  York  in  1Q05  ran 
thus: 


Trinidad 106.000 

Africa 82,000 

Bahia 61,000 

Sauchez 46,000 

Venezuela   4.5,000 

Cuba 14,000 

Grenada 12,000 

Para 11,000 


bags 


AN    HYDRAULIC    PRESS    WHICH    REMOVES    A 

PORTION  OF   THE  COCOA-BUTTER  FROM 

THE   BEANS — THE    RESIDUE   IS 

"breakfast"    COCOA 


THE    MAKING    OF    CHOCOLATES 


163 


stone  mills,  being  at  the  same  time  .>liglitly 
heated.  The  result  is  a  syru]n-  fluid. 
The  oil  has  been  liberated  by  the  grinding 
and  liquified  by  the  heat.  If  the  oil  is 
pressed  out,  the  cocoa  of  commerce 
remains. 

If  the  oil  is  not  pressed  out,  and  if  the 
liquor  is  treated  with  sweetenings  and 
flavours,  ground  further  in  stone  mills, 
and  "worked  up  fine,"  it  becomes  a 
smooth  and  mellow  chocolate.  Perhaps 
a  certain  percentage  of  e.xtra  "cocoa- 
butter"  may  be  added  to  still  further  in- 
crease its  smoothness  and  achq^tability 
for  covering  candies  of  one  kind  or  another. 

It  is  in  the  substitution  of  other  vegetable 
or  animal  fats  for  the  pure  cocoa-butter, 
that  much  of  the  adulteration  of  the  cover- 
ings for  chocolate  confectioner}-  occurs. 
These  substitutes  invariably  are  more  or 
less  aft'ected  by  heat,  which  decomposes 
them,  sjjoiling  the  flavour  of  the  goods, 
which  frequently  turn  rancid. 

Cocoa  is  used  to  make  a  beverage; 
chocolate  is  used  directly  as  a  confection  or 
as  a  food. 

CHOCOLATE   AS    A   FOOD 

It  is  t)nly  in  recent  years  that  the  world 
has  learned  the  food-value  of  chocolate. 
When  people  read  that  Queen  Mctoria 
had  sent  a  box  of  chocolates  to  each  of  the 
soldiers  in  South  Africa,  they  thought  she 
had  sent  them  a  "confection."  She  her- 
self probably  knew  that  she  was  sending 
them  a  splendid  food. 

Comparing  the  percentage  of  fat  in  cer- 
tain foods,  we  find  chocolate  second  only 
to  butter.     Take  this  list: 

Steak 14  per  cent,  fat 

Eggs 9     "         "     " 

Bread 4     "         "     " 

Butter 85     "         "     " 

Chocolate 40     "         "     " 

Chocolate  is  therefore  a  splendid  pro- 
ducer of  energy  and  heat.  As  a  tissue 
builder  it  is  almost  equal  to  eggs  and  steak, 
containing  as  it  does  considerable  protein. 

The  following  are  approximate  figures: 

Steak 14  per  cent,  protein 

Eggs 14  " 

Bread 9  " 

Butter .3  " 

Chocolate 11  '"         "         " 

It  would  seem,  therefore,  that  chocolate 


f"; 


^  :^ 


A    MELA.XGEUK 


A     I2-ST()XE     REFIXER 


A   COXTIXUOUS    REFIXER 

These  three  machines  are  employed  in  the  grinding 
and  refining  of  chocolate  coating 


properly  prepared  is  both  a  tissue  builder 
and  an  energy  producer  of  high  value. 
Hence,  one  may  understand  why  it  is 
supplied  regularly  to  the  German  army. 

M.  Payen,  writing  in  "Des  Substances 
Alimentaires,"  says: 

"The  cocoa  bean  has  in  its  composition 
more  nitrogen  than  wheat  flour,  about 
twenty  times  as  much  fatty  matter,  a  con- 
siderable    proportion     of     starch,     and     an 


164 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


PAX    ROOM — IX    THESE    REVOLVING    PANS    CERTAIX   FILLIXGS,    SUCH    AS    XUTS,    ARE 
COATED   WITH   CHOCOLATE 


agreeable  aroma  which  excites  the  appetite. 
We  are  entirely  disposed  to  admit  that  this 
substance  contains  a  remarkable  nutritive 
power  Besides,  direct  experience  has  proved 
this  to  be  the  case.  In  fact,  cocoa,  closely 
combined  with  an  equal  or  two-third's 
weight  of  sugar,  forming  the  article  well- 
known  under  the  name  of  chocolate,  con- 
stitutes a  food,  substantial  in  all  respects, 
and  capable  of  sustaining  the  strength  in 
travelling." 

And  a  little  further  on,  he  adds: 

"Cocoa  and  chocolate,  in  consequence  of 
their  elementary  composition,  and  of  the 
direct  or  indirect  addition  of  sugar  before 
their  consumption,  constitute  a  food,  res- 
piratory, or  capable  of  maintaining  animal 
heat,  by  means  of  the  starch,  sugar,  gum, 
and  fatty  matter  which  they  contain;  they 
are  also  articles  of  food  favourable  to  the 
maintenance  or  development  of  the  adipose 
secretions,  by  reason  of  the  fatty  matter 
(cocoa-butter)  belonging  to  them;  and, 
finally,  they  assist  in  the  maintenance  and 
increase  of  the  tissues  by  means  of  their 
congeneric  azote  substances,  which  assimi- 
late therewith." 

CANADIAN   niPORTATIOXS 

The  customs  classification  is  hard  to 
understand  and  analyse,  but  the  importa- 
tions of  cocoa  and  its  products  show  a 
rapid  increase.  In  1874,  the  importations 
amounted  to  less  than  $5,000.  In  1881, 
it  was  about  $10,000.  The  figiu-es  for  the 
last  five  years  are  as  follows : 


1901 $438,417 

1902 414,351 

1903 561,270 

1904 654,500 

1905 744,637 

About  seventy-five  per  cent,  of  these 
importations  came  from  Great  Britain  and 
the  United  States,  with  the  British  West 
Indies  a  poor  third.  Holland  and  Switzer- 
land come  next — these  being  principally 
milk  chocolates. 

WTiile  the  imports  of  cacao  beans,  cocoa 
and  chocolate  have  thus  enormously  in- 
creased, we  find  the  importation  of  con- 
fectionery declining.  For  example,  in 
I  go  I  Canada  bought  $228,000  worth  from 
the  United  States,  and  in  1905  this  had 
fallen  to  8124,000  worth.  This  is  due  to 
the  growth  of  cocoa  and  chocolate  factories 
in  this  cotmtry.  These  import  the  raw 
product  and  manufacture  it  into  various 
forms  suitable  for  the  nation's  taste  and 
demands. 

SUGAR  AS   FOOD 

Mr.  R.  Bannister,  of  London,  in  a  lecture 
said:  "The  sense  of  taste,  wliich  resides  in 
the  gustatory  ner\^es  of  the  tongue,  seems  to 
have  been  provided  for  the  ptirpose  of 
guarding  against  the  taking  into  the  sys- 
tem, through  the  mouth,  of  any  injurious 
substances,  and  also  for  the  purpose  of 


THE    MAKIXC    ()|-    (  Il()(  OI.ATKS 


165 


A    CORXEK    IX    A    BON-BOX    DIPPING    ROOM 


impartinj:;  pleasure  to  the  necessary  act  of 
eating  and  drinking.  The  instinctive 
love  of  sugar  seems  to  point  out  how  well  it 
is  adapted  to  our  natural  wants.  This 
love  is  not  confined  to  one  nation;  wher- 
ever it  is  most  easily  obtained,  there  its 
consumption  is  found  to  be  enormous." 

Sugars  are  more  speedily  dissolved  by 
the  saliva  and  more  quickly  assimilated 
than  any  other  food,  and  the  energy  there- 
from is  more  immediately  available. 
It  also  very  materially  assists  the 
digestion  of  other  foods.  AMien  sugar 
has  been  inverted  or  changed  from  its 
crystnlline  form,  which  occurs  in  the 
manufacture  of  confectionery,  and  has 
been  combined  with  pure  chocolate, 
then  we  have  an  absolutely  natural 
food.  A  child's  desire  for  candy  is 
perfectl}-  natural  and  should  be  grati- 
fied within  reasonable  limits,  as  there 
is  no  more  wholesome  food.  In  young 
men  it  has  become  a  very  noticeable 
fact  that  few,  if  any,  who  are  fond  of 
confectionery  are  likely  to  carry  the 
aroma  of  "Cocktails.-'  The  candy- 
eating  habit  is  a  fair  evidence  of 
temperate  habits. 

With  access  to  every  market  in  the 
world  for  raw  products,  such  as  cacao, 
vanilla  beans,  essential  oils,  fruit  for 
flavouring,  and  shelled  nuts;  with  re- 
fined sugar  of  the  finest  quality  as  a 
basis,  and  with  latest  type  machinery 
and  highly-skilled  workmen,  there  is 
no  reason  why  Canada  should  not  pro- 


duce confectionery  of 
as  fine  Havour,  text- 
ure, and  finish  as  any 
countr\'  in  the  world. 
In  fact,  the  decreas- 
ing imports  give  evi- 
dence that  her  own 
people  are  appreciat- 
ing this  fact,  and 
are  giving  home  pro- 
ductions the  prefer- 
ence. 

A  TYPICAL  FACTORY 

Of  these  Canadian 
factories,  that  of 
Ganong  Bros.,  of  St. 
Stephen,  New  Bruns- 
wick, may  be  taken  as  typical.  St.  Stephen 
is  a  lively  little  town,  situated  on  the 
St.  Croix  River  about  twenty  miles  from 
the  Bay  of  Fundy,  and  at  the  head  of  the 
navigable  part  of  that  river.  It  is  a  place 
where  one  might  more  naturally  exjject  saw 
mills  than  a  chocolate  factory  and  a  cotton 
mill.  Yet  it  is  the  latter  one  finds.  Men 
as  well  as  nature  are  an  element  in  deter- 
mining the  characteristics  of  a  community, 


m 


DIPPING    BON-BOXS 


166 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


and  thi>  town  and  its  twin  neighbour. 
Milltown,  owe  their  prosperity  and  fame 
to  the  en  erg}-  of  se\eral  enterprising  citi- 
zens. 

The  Ganong  business  has  been  of  a 
steady  and  natural  growth.  The  two 
brothers  were  in  the  commission  business 
about  thirty  years  ago,  and  incidentally 
handled  confectionery.  A  small  candy- 
making  business  came  on  the  market,  and 
the\-  bought  it  out  and  developed  it  until 
they  have  a  factor}-  employing  over  three 


nor  acids  nor  foreign  substances  may  be 
used  to  assist  in  the  dissolution. 

The  first  step  in  the  process  is  the  sort- 
ing and  cleaning  of  the  beans.  As  they 
come  in  sacks  from  foreign  forests,  there 
is  necessarily  some  dirt  mixed  with  them. 
This  must  be  absolutely  removed,  either 
b\-  machinery  or  by  hand,  or  by  both.  As 
the  beans  are  to  be  roasted,  the  different 
sizes  must  be  separated,  otherwise  the 
small  beans  would  be  burnt  while  the 
large   ones   were   getting   sufficient    heat. 


A    SECTION    OF    "  DIPPING    ROOM"    WHERE   G.B.    CHOCOLATES    .\RE    COATED 


hundred  hands  and  turning  out  tons  of 
confectionery  each  day. 

MAKIXG   CHOCOLATE   CO.A.TIXGS 

In  the  factory  of  Ganong  Bros.,  all 
the  chocolate  that  is  made  is  used  in 
coating  confectionery,  or  in  the  making 
of  sweet  chocolate,  and  good  chocolate 
coating  is  much  more  difficult  to 
make  than  any  other  form  of  this 
substance,  with  the  possible  exception 
of  milk  chocolate.  Success  in  making 
chocolate  coatings  depends  largely  on 
skill  and  taste  in  blending  the  products 
of  different  countries,  all  of  which  dift"er 
in  flavour.  This  is  c{uite  as,  if  not  more, 
difficult  than  the  blending  of  teas  and  cof- 
fees, and  requires  men  of  great  experience. 
It  is  along  this  line  that  this  firm  especially 
excels.  From  the  hard  bean  to  the  smooth 
liquid  is  a  far  cry,  because  neither  alkali 


Exactness  in  roasting  means  much  for  the 
flavour  and  colour  of  the  chocolate.  It 
requires  about  forty-five  minutes  to  roast  a 
batch  of  Ijeans  in  the  large  revolving 
cylinders  used  for  that  purpose,  the  heat 
being  applied  by  gas  jets  under  forced 
air  draughts. 

After  roasting,  the  beans  are  broken  and 
shelled.  After  passing  through  a  breaker 
the  broken  beans  drop  into  a  cylindrical 
sieve,  through  which  fans  are  continually 
forcing  enough  air  to  blow  out  the  lighter 
■'  sheU." '  The  cleaned  and  broken  interior 
drops  into  receivers  below. 

From  here  it  passes  to  a  mill,  not  unlike 
a  flour  mill,  where  two  sets  of  stones  grind 
it  still  smaUer.  At  the  same  time  it  is 
slightly  heated  so  as  to  release  the  oil  or 
cocoa-butter  which  forms  one-half  of  its 
sulistance.  From  the  mill  it  passes  as  a 
slightly  gritty  licjuid  to  a  refiner  consisting 


THE    MAKI\(;    or    (  HOCOLATES 


U)7 


FACTORY    AND    OFFICES   OF   GANOXG    BROS.,    ST.   STEPHE.N,    X.B. 


of  from  six  to  twelve  granite  roller?  set 
close  together,  which  still  further  adds  to 
its  smoothness.  The  stones  work  in  sets 
of  three,  each  with  a  different  speed. 

From  here  it  passes  to  the  "hot-room," 
where  for  several  hours  it  is  subjected  to 
heat  in  order  that  the  "butter"  shall  be 
fullv  melted  and  mixed  with  the  other  sub- 
stances which  the  bean  originally  contain- 
ed. From  the  hot-room  it  goes  to  the 
melanguers  to  be  still  further  stirred, 
rolled  and  mixed;  then  to  huge  drum 
continuous  refiners  for  the  finishing  pro- 
cess. The  liquor  is  now  ready  for  choc- 
olate coatings. 

Even  yet  the  process  is  not  complete. 
If  required  for  immediate  use,  it  is  placed 
in  another  melanguer  and  mixed  with  a 
certain  amount  of  finest  pulverized  sugar 


and  flavouring.  It  then  goes  through 
another  set  of  refiners  to  make  sure  that 
the  sugar  and  chocolate  liquor  are  thor- 
oughly mixed.  At  this  stage,  when 
necessary,  and  it  always  is  in  the  best 
chocolate  coatings,  more  pure  cocoa- 
butter,  is  added  to  still  further  increase 
its  mellowness  and  plasticity. 

THE   FILLINGS 

Chocolate  coatings  are  made  several 
weeks  before  using,  as  when  properly 
made  they  impro\'e  with  age.  The  next 
step  is  to  have  proper  fillings  or  centres. 
These  may  be  of  cream,  jelly,  nuts,  etc. 
The  ordinary  cream  filling  is  made  from 
high-grade  sugar.  Some  chocolate-makers 
use  a  high  percentage  of  glucose,  and  thus 
cheapen  and  deteriorate  their  goods.     Xot 


GENERAL    OFFICES 


168 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


SECTION    OF    P.\PER    BOX    ROOM 

SO  with  the  "G.B."  fillings — they  have 
only  one  standard.  The  sugar  is  melted 
and  then  beaten  or  '"creamed,"  then  re- 
melted,  tlavoured  and  moulded.  When 
ready  for  the  finishing  touches  they  are 
slightly  hard,  just  sufiicient  to  keep  their 
shape  while  being  rolled  in  the  warm 
chocolate,  but  in  a  few  days  after  coating 
this  hardness  disappears  and  the  shape  of 
the  chocolate  is  preserved  only  by  the 
hardness  of  the  outing  coating. 

The  coating  may  be  done  either  by 
machinery  or  by  hand.  The  chocolate  used 
in  machine-coated  goods  is  of  inferior 
grade,  and  the  centres  cannot  be  coated  as 
heavily  as  by  the  "hand-dipping"  process, 
as  the  hquor  used  for  coating  has  to  be 
much  thinner,  that  the  machine  may 
thoroughly  cover  them. 


WEST    WIXG    AXD    SITE    FOK 


All  "G.B."  choco- 
lates   are    "hand- 
dipped."    Long  rows 
of    girls    sit    beside 
tables    containing 
small  vats  of  warmed 
chocolate.     Each 
centre    is    immersed 
or  rolled  in  the  choco- 
late, lifted  out  separ- 
ately, and  placed  on 
placques     stamped 
"G.B.,"  thus  giving 
to  each  chocolate  the 
"G.B."    imprint, 
without  which  none 
are  genuine.     These  girls  acquire  great 
skiU  in  this  work.     A  new  girl  will  waste 
and  spoil  more  chocolate  than  her  work  is 
worth.     An  experienced  hand  will  spoil 
none.     She  works  by  "the  piece,"  in  this 
case  by  the  number  of  pounds  she  handles. 
She  will  deftly  add  some  little  ornamenta- 
tion across  the  top  of  each  chocolate,  which 
removes  the  otherwise  plain  appearance  of 
even  a  "hand-dipped"  drop. 

From  here,  the  trays  of  chocolates  are 
rushed  to  a  cooling  room,  where  in  a  few 
minutes  they  are  sufiiciently  chilled  to  go 
into  the  packing  room.      The  "packing" 
room  is  kept  at  an  even  temperature,  and 
here  the  chocolates  are  put  in  half-pound, 
pound,  or  five-pound  boxes,  all  one  kind, 
or  mixed,  as  the  occasion  or  the  trade 
requires.     They  must,  however,  be  packed 
at  once.     Chocolates, 
left     lying    around 
would    be    liable   to 
accumulate    a   shght 
quantity  of   dust,  or 
lose  their  finish. 

Of  course  cream 
centres  are  not  the 
only  kind  that  are 
coated.  Cocoanut 
centres  are  used  and 
cocoanut  must  not 
be  confounded  with 
the  cacao  bean  from 
which  cliocolate  is 
made.  For  the  other 
centres,  Ganong 
Bros,  import  ginger 
from  China,  dates 
from    the    Xile,    figs 


■oWER   HOUSE 


I 


THE    MAKING    OF   (  IIOCOLATES 


1«»!) 


refuse    to     make 


from  Smyrna,  raisins 
from  Spain,  chcrrie>, 
apricots  from  France, 
pineapples  from  the 
Bahamas,  and  nuts 
from  Sicily,  Spain, 
France,  Brazil,  and 
the  United  States. 
Caramels,  cordial> 
such  as  coffee  or 
ginger,  nougatines. 
and  biscuits  add  to 
the  variety,  one  of 
the  greatest  favour- 
ites being  made  from 
our  own  Canadian 
maple. 

The  Ganongs  have 
a  strong  objection 
to  incorporating 
liquors  of  any  kind 
in  their  manufact- 
ures, and  absolutely 
brandy  or  other  cordials  of   this   nature. 

The  dipping  or  coating  of  all  these  is 
much  the  same,  though  slight  variations 
are  required.  In  all  this  work,  mechan- 
ical cold  storage  plays  a  very  important 
part  in  regulating  necessary  temperatures. 
For  this  purpose,  this  factory  is  equipped 
■with  a  plant  up-to-date  in  every  particular. 

BOXING 

The  Ganongs  manufacture  all  their  own 
bo.xes.  They  have  a  well-equipped  box 
factory,  with  all  the 
latest  machinery  and 
a  supply  of  expert 
workmen  and  work- 
women. Boxes  of 
all  sizes  and  shapes 
are  produced,  from 
the  plain  £ve-pound 
boxes,  in  which  the 
grocer  or  confectioner- 
buys  his  general  su]  > 
plies,  to  fancy  boxes 
from  half-pound  and 
one  pound  up  to  five 
pounds,  tied  up  in 
ribbon,  which  are 
sold  unbroken  by  the 
same  dealers. 

For     the    holiday 
trade,  fancv  boxes  of 


BOARDING-HOUSE ACCO.MMOD.\TIOX    FOR    FIFTY    GIRLS 


assorted  goods  to  sell  at  prices  varying 
from  one  to  ten  dollars  are  prepared. 
The  demand  for  these  is  extensive,  and 
the  markets  of  the  world  are  searched  for 
novelties  and  dainty  designs  to  work  up 
into  fancy  baskets  and  boxes.  The  stand- 
ard box  used  for  G.B.  chocolates  has  a 
picture — a  line  conception  of  Longfellow's 
Evangeline — on  the  cover.  New  Bruns- 
wick was  formerly  a  part  of  Acadie,  though 
not  that  part  around  which  the  famous 
romance  has  thrown  a  cloak  of  sentiment. 
The  famous  vallev  of  Grand  Pre   is  a  few 


'..B.  CHOCOLATES  FOR  VANCOUVER 

Part  of  a  15-ton  car  on  the  way  to  the  railway  station.     Xote  the  characteristic 
lorry  of  the  Maritime  Provinces 


170 


THF.    CAXADIAX    MAGAZINE 


RESIDENCE    OF   G.    W.    GAXOXG,   M.P.,  ST.    STEPHEN 

miles  from  St.  Stephen  across  the  Bay  of 
Fundy.  Nevertheless,  wherever  the  G.B. 
chocolates  go,  there  goes  with  them  a 
reminder  that  down  by  the  Atlantic  is  a 
land  of  romance,  of  sentiment  and  of 
sweetness. 

CLEAXLIXESS 

In  the  making  of  confectionery  absolute 
cleanliness  is  essential.  The  Ganong 
factory  is  a  roomy  set  of  buildings,  well 
lighted,  with  high  ceilings.  Every  room 
is  painted  white  and  is  gone  over  with  a 
brush  at  least  once  a  year.  Every  utensil, 
every  pot,  every  pan,  every  tray  must  be 
kept  spotlessly  clean.  Employes  must 
keep  themselves  tidy  and  must  come 
from  homes  where  neatness  and  cleanli- 
ness are  part  of  the  daily  creed.  Negli- 
gent or  careless  employes  are  not  tolerated. 

In  order  to  insure  a  constant  supply  of 
first-class  women  the  firm  has  recently 
estabhshed  a  large  boarding-house.  This 
is  in  charge  of  a  competent  matron,  and 
the  highest  class  of  accommodation  is 
afforded.  Here  the  girls  may  board  at 
low  rates  and  may  have  many  prinleges 
not  found  in  an  ordinary  boarding-house. 
Lavatories,  bathrooms,  washing  rooms, 
ironing  rooms  and  reading  rooms  are  at 
their  disposal.  A  croquet  lawn  has  been 
in  use  this  year,  and  a  tennis  lawn  will  be 
ready  next  year. 

THE    DISTRIBUTION" 

That  Canada  is  a  growing  country; 
that  Canadian  manufacturers  are  gaining 
ground  rapidly  is  well  exemplified  in  the 


growth  of  the  Ganong 
busi  ness.  Situated 
though  it  is  in  a  small 
town,  in  the  far  east  of 
the  Dominion,  it  yet 
distributes  its  products 
in  every  province. 
When  the  writer  visited 
the  factory  they  were 
just  about  to  ship  three 
carloads,  one  to  \'an- 
couver,  one  to  \\'innipeg 
and  one  to  Quebec.  The 
small  town  is  no  handi- 
cap where  the  manu- 
facturer is  enterprising; 
distance  is  no  bar  when 
he  understands  his 
business  and  has  it  well  organised. 

^^'hen  asked  why  their  business  has 
grown  so  rapidl}-,  the  manager  modestly 
said  he  was  not  certain,  but  thought  prin- 
cipally because  the  firm  believed  the  people 
would  pay  reasonable  prices  for  goods  of 
high  quaUty." 

''Our  candies  are  good  to  eat.  of  that  I 
am  certain,"  said  he.  "I  eat  large  quan- 
tities every  day  myself,  and  so  do  my 
associates.  Therefore  I  am  not  surprised 
that  the  people  eat  them.  We  try  to  make 
good  eating  chocolates,  that  are  suited  to 
the  Canadian  climate.  We  are  proud  of  all 
our  goods  and  have  never  found  it  neces- 
sary to  lower  the  standard  to  make  sales." 
There  is  an  impression  abroad  in  the 
land  that  chocolates  should  be  bought 
fresh.  The  "G.B."  chocolates  are  made 
in  such  a  way  that  they  do  not  attain  their 
greatest  "mellowness"  until  about  thirty 
days  after  they  are  ready  for  shipment. 
This  gives  plenty  of  time  to  send  them  the 
long  distances  which  they  must  be  sent  in 
Canada.  They  also  retain  their  mello\Miess 
and  full  flavour  for  a  long  time  when 
properly  cared  for.  The  greatest  care  is 
taken  to  secure  evenness  of  quality,  so  that 
the  purchaser  am'Avhere  in  Canada  may 
be  reasonably  certain  of  getting  the  highest 
grade  chocolates  when  he  buys  anything 
stamped  "G.B." 

It  is  gratifying  to  see  Canadians  turn- 
ing out  so  high  a  grade  of  goods  that 
"^lade  in  Canada"  is  becoming  a  svTi- 
onym  for  good  quality.  This  is  a  tribute 
to  the  nation's  honesty  as  well  as  the 
nation's  enterprise. 


Plays  of  the  Season 


Bv  JOIIX  A.  WEBBER 


flHK  Kreutzer  Sonata"  iA 
Jacob  Gordin  had  the 
honour  of  opening  the  pres- 
ent dramatic  season  in 
^  New  York,  an  English 
vcraiun  ui  the  sombre  Yiddish  play,  with 
Miss  Blanche  Walsh  in  the  leading  role, 
appearing  in  mid-August,  while  the 
world  of  folly  was  still  occupied  with 
Cone}'  Island  and  Roof  Garden  enter- 
tainment. Further  interest  lay  in  the 
fact  that  a  rival  production  of  the  piece 
was  in  preparation,  and  the  early  ap- 
pearance of  Miss  Walsh  proved  a  tactical 
move  on  the  part  of  her  management  to 
forestall  Mr.  Fiske's  plans  for  present- 
ing ^Ime.  Bertha  Kalich — 
for  whom  the  play  was 
originally  written  and  in 
whose  repertoire  it  had  a 
prominent  place  for  several 
years  at  the  Yiddish  theatres 
— in  an  English  adaption 
of  her  old  role.  Mr.  Fiske's 
more  careful  preparation, 
however,  followed  in  due 
course,  and  the  result  to  the 
public  was  an  opportunity 
to  compare  two  very  interest- 
ing and  capable  presenta- 
tions of  the  play. 

"The  Kreutzer  Sonata," 
which  by  the  way  must  not 
be  confounded  with  Tol- 
stoi's well-known  novel,  is 
of  the  old  melodrama  type, 
with  strong  acting  scenes, 
some  very  interesting 
character  work  and  of  thril- 
ling emotional  interest.  The 
characters  are  Russian,  and 
with  one  exception  Hebrew, 
and  the  story  is  based  on 
the  love  of  a  Jewish  girl  for 
a  Gentile  officer  who,  barred 
by  race  prejudices  from 
marrying  her,  has  committed 
suicide.  The  usual  compli- 
cations  disclose  themselves. 


the  disposal  of  the  "ruined"  girl  to  a 
young,  ambitious  musician,  and  the  de- 
parture of  both  for  America.  The  rest 
is  a  story  of  domestic  unhappine.ss,  where- 
in cruelties,  indignities  and  infidelity  that 
compromises  the  wife's  younger  sister, 
are  exposed;  all  meekly  Ijorne  by  the  un- 
happy victim  of  our  "woman  damnation" 
theories,  until  patience  can  bear  no  more 
— and  the  double  tragedy  follows.  Some 
excellent  comedy  scenes  are  furnished 
by  an  eccentric  old  musician,  and  the 
humour  he  imparts  is  a  welcome  lamp 
in  the  gloom  of  the  woeful  traged\". 

Madame    Kalich    had    the    advantage 
of  appearing  in   a  role  long  familiar  to 


and  the  action  begins 
171 


with 


BERTHA    KALICH    IX    "THE    KREI'TZER    SOXATa" 


17^2 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


GERTRUDE   ELLIOTT   AS  "cLEOPATRA" 


FORBES    ROBERTSON    AS  "C^ESAR" 


her,  and  one  for  which  she  is  pecuharly 
fitted,  physically  and  temperamentally. 
Her  performance  was  very  finished  and 
artistic,  and  the  portrait  well  toned  down 
to  the  tastes  of  her  Enghsh  audience. 
Miss  Walsh,  on  the  other  hand,  seemed 
to  revel  in  emotional  opportunities,  and 
the  result  was  a  highly  coloured  picture, 
graphic,  crude,  and  in  a  certain  physical 
sense  forceful.  The  supporting  com- 
panies were  in  each  case  so  excellent  that 
there  is  little  to  choose  between  them. 
Special  mention  should  be  made,  how- 
ever, of  Jacob  Katzm'an's  characterisa- 
tion of  the  eccentric  musician  in  the 
Kalich  company  and  of  ^liss  Helen  Ware 
as  the  sister  in  the  other. 

Notwithstandinsr  this  earlv  and  some- 


what sober  start,  the  season  had  not 
found  itself  up  to  October.  But  with 
October — the  month  when  in  the  course 
of  nature  the  gay  first  colourings  of  early 
autumn  have  sobered  and  deepened  to 
brown,  when  ripened  fruits  hang  ready 
for  the  wine-press  and  the  corn  is  garn- 
ered for  the  gleaners — in  this  month  of 
nature's  fulness  came  such  rich  October 
offerings  as  Mr.  H.  B.  Irving  in  Stephen 
Phillips'  "Paola  and  Francesca,"  Henry 
Miller  and  Margaret  Anglin  in  Wm. 
Vaughn  Moodv's  ''The  Great  Divide," 
Lena  i\shwell  'in  "The  Shulamite,"  Mr. 
E.  S.  Willard  in  his  admirable  portrait 
of  "Colonel  Newcome,"  and  jNIr.  !Mans- 
field  in  an  imposing  production  of  Ibsen's 
•'Peer  Gynt."     With  these  offerings  the 


PLAYS    OF    rilK    SKASON 


173 


note  of  serious  dramatic  interest,  for 
which  we  had  been  waitins,  was  firmly 
and  unmistakably  struck. 

The  appearance  of  Mr.  Forbes  Rob- 
ertson, too,  in  "Caesar  and  Cleopatra," 
marks  a  revival  of  the  intellectual — as 
opposed  to  emotional  and  pictorial — 
drama,  which  distinguished  the  earl}- 
months  of  last  season  when  the  Shaw 
vogue  was  at  its  height.  It  also  marks  a 
further,  and  let  us  hope  decisive,  step  in 
the  moral  rehabilitation  of  the  prince  of 
humorists,  whose  sensational  banish- 
ment a  year  ago  proclaimed  our  Com- 
stockianism  so  loudly  to  the  world.  This 
banishment,  we  may  remind  ourselves, 
however,  was  followed  by  a  more  or  less 
triumphant  return  in  the  late  spring, 
when  Mr.  Arnold  Daly  rounded  up  the 
season's  work  with  an  excellent  presenta- 
tion of  "Arms  and  the  Man."  Since  that 
time,  also,  the  courts  have  decided  that 
"Mrs.  Warren's  Profession"  is  not  an 
immoral  play  at  all.  And  now  that  an 
ally  has  been  gained  of  such  unquestion- 
able standing  as  Mr.  Forbes  Robertson. 
Mr.  Shaw's  entire  respectability  will  sure- 
ly be  grudged  no  longer.  If  this  is  not 
enough,  there  still  remains  the  announce- 
ment of  Miss  Ellen  Terry  in  a  production 
of  "Captain  Brassbound's  Conversion." 
We  have  mentioned  these  names  for  the 
reason  that  example  is  so  often  more 
potent  than  argument. . 

In  the  somewhat  conspicuous  absence 
of  ^Nlr.  Shaw  up  to  this  time,  Enghsh 
drama  had  been  fully  represented  by 
such  of  his  leading  contemporaries  as 
Mr.  Pinero,  whose  admirable  "His  House 
in  Order"  is  one  of  the  most  important 
plays  of  the  year;  Henry  Arthur  Jones' 
"The  Hvpocrites,"  and  Mr.  Alfred  Sutro 
in  "The  Price  of  Money."  Following 
these  leaders  at  varying  intellectual  dis- 
tances we  had  Michael  Morton  in  "The 
Little  Stranger,"  St.  John  Rankin  in 
"The  Two  Mr.  Wetherbys,"  Inglis  Allen 
in  "The  Dear  Unfair  Sex,"  Harold  Heaton 
in  "Lady  Jim,"  and  Alicia  Ramsey  in 
"John  Hudson's  Wife."  Of  these  only 
two,  "His  House  in  Order"  and  "The 
Hypocrites."  can  be  classed  as  popvilar 
successes,  though  one  or  two  others  were 
complete  artistic  successes,  and  under 
other  conditions  misrht  have  found  more 


MR.  H.   B.  IRVTXG 

favour  with  the  public.  The  terms,  unfor- 
tunately, are  not  always  synon}Tnous 
and  the  pubhc  mood  is  variable  and 
fleeting. 

"The  Two  IMr.  Wetherbys"  was 
described  as  a  domestic  fact  in  three 
acts,  taking  for  its  text  the  familiar 

"  Life  is  a  comedy  to  those  who  think, 
A  tragedy  to  those  who  feel." 

The  piece  is  said  to  have  had  a  very 
long  run  in  London  last  season,  but  the 
sea  voyage  apparently  impaired  its  vital- 
ity. There  were  some  very  agreeable  act- 
ing moments,  certainly  some  witty  lines, 
as  for  example — "She  is  a  good  woman 
and  she  has  a  grievance.  WTiat  more 
can  she  want?"  But  its  chief  claim  to 
notice  is  Mr.  ^^'illiam  F.  Hawtrey's  im- 
personation of  the  (conventionally)  bad 
Mr.  Wetherhy.  This  was  wholly  de- 
lightful and  flawless,  and  its  impressions 
will  remain  when  much  of  this  season's 
work  is  forgotten. 

"The  Dear  L"infair  Sex,"  in  which 
Miss  Ellis    Jeffreys  appeared  for  a  time 


174 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


this  season,  would  seem  to  be  a  modern 
variation  of  ''The  Taming  of  the  Shrew,'' 
in  which  Mrs.  Haviland  Brooke,  spoiled, 
capricious,  petulant  and  unreasonably 
peevish  toward  a  kind-hearted  husband 
who  adores  her,  is  finally  brought  to 
bay  and  becomes,  for  the  time  at  least, 
a  most  dutiful  and  meek  spouse.  The 
chastening  is  accomplished  by  means  of 
an  old  theatrical  device,  her  discovery  in 
a  compromising  situation  to  which  her 
vanity  has  brought  her.  Suspecting  that 
]Melville,  whom  she  fancifully  supposes 
to  be  in  love  with  herself,  is  marrying 
another  against  his  desire,  she  goes  to 
his  room  to  intercede.  ^lelville,  learn- 
ing the  truth,  promptly  sends  for  her 
husband,  but  before  he  arrives  a  mutual 
friend.  Captain  Gleinster,  in  an  ad- 
vanced state  of  conviviality,  unexpect- 
edly arrives  on  the  scene.  Other  com- 
plications follow,  and  by  the  time  the 
captious  wife  is  extricated,  the  taming 
is  complete.  Not  as  important  a  com- 
edy by  any  means  as  Mr.  Sutro's  "The 
Fascinating  Mr.  Vanderveldt,"  although 
the  role  of  Mrs.  Brooke  in  the  variety  of 
its  moods  affords  Miss  Jeffreys  a  wider 
score  for  the  display  of  her  talents  than 
any  other  in  which  we  have  seen  her. 
A  lady  of  breeding  Miss  Jeffreys  is,  in 
all  her  parts,  and  she  is  able  to  suggest 
this  quality  to  a  degree  that  no  other 
actress  we  know  can. 

"The  Dear  Unfair  Sex,"  in  spite  of  a 
rather  distinguished  cast  that  included 
Mr.  Chas.  CartwTight  and  Mr.  Geo. 
Giddens,  found  only  moderate  favour, 
however,  with  the  dear,  unfair  public, 
and  withdrew. 

Miss  Jeffrey's  non-success  with  this 
piece  and  Mr.  Crane's  similar  experience 
with  the  "Price  of  Money,"  has  resulted 
in  their  joint  appearance  in  a  revival  of 
"She  Stoops  to  Conquer,"  with  Mr. 
Crane  as  Mr.  HardcastJe,  and  Miss 
Jeffreys  as  the  winsome  Kate,  in  which 
happy  outcome,  the  proverb  of  the  ill 
wind  will  be  once  more  recalled. 

In  some  respects  Henry  Arthur  Jones' 
new  play  "The  Hypocrites"  shows  the 
author  at  his  best.  In  other  respects, 
he  is  equally  at  his  wors*.  There  is  the 
inevitable  pulpit,  for  instance,  conspicu- 
ouslv    placed    in    the    foreground,    and 


appropriately  enough,  a  high-minded, 
uncompromising  young  curate  to  occupy 
it.  He,  of  course,  is  the  author's  mouth- 
piece, and  proceeds  to  expound  the 
author's  text,  "Expediency  is  man's  wis- 
dom, doing  right  is  God's."  The  scene 
of  the  play  is  Weybury — peaceful,  re- 
mote, exclusive,  hypocritical  Weybury, 
whose  church-laden  respectability  is  one 
day  rudely  upset  by  the  intrusion  of  a  pale- 
faced  young  girl.  We  know  her  story  at 
once  without  the  unnecessary  details  that 
follow,  even  to  the  matter  of  dates.  We 
know,  too,  that  the  son  of  the  Lord  of  the 
^lanor  of  Weybury  is  implicated.  And 
the  dramatic  conflict  revolves  round  the 
duty  of  Weybury  in  the  matter  as  Wey- 
bury sees  it,  and  its  duty  as  the  high- 
minded  curate  conceives  it.  The  issues 
broaden,  however,  as  the  play  progresses, 
until  the  initial  motive  becomes  a  mere 
incident  in  the  arraignment  of  our  social 
hypocrisies.  In  inventiveness  and  a  keen 
sense  of  his  dramatic  opportunities,  Mr. 
Jones  has  never  appeared  to  better 
advantage.  The  play  is  in  the  hands 
of  an  exceedingly  capable  and  well-bal- 
anced company,  and  much  of  its  success 
is  due  to  their  able  presentation. 

Why  Mr.  Sutro's  "The  Price  of  Money  " 
was  not  a  success  is  hard  to  say.  With 
Mr.  Crane  in  the  central  role,  the  piece 
had  a  worthy  presentation,  and  in  point 
of  dramatic  interest  is  a  better  offering 
than  the  same  author's  "Walls  of  Jeri- 
cho," which  ran  so  well  last  season.  It 
deserved  a  much  better  reception. 

.\merican  dramatists  have  met  with  bet- 
ter success  in  proportion  than  their  Eng- 
hsh  contemporaries,  three  of  the  season's 
hits,  "Clothes,"  "The  Chorus  Lady," 
and  "The  Great  Divide,"  owning  to 
.\merican  authorship.  "  Clothes,"  by 
Mr.  Channing  Pollock,  \vith  which  Miss 
Grace  George  has  inaugurated  her  pres- 
ent season,  is  a  strong  play  of  very  evi- 
dent popular  appeal.  Though  it  quotes 
the  immortal  Sartor  Resartus,  it  is  not 
a  philosophy  of  clothes  by  any  means, 
but  a  timely  preachment  against  the 
modern  social  peril  variously  expressed 
in  "Clothes."  It  follows — though  some- 
what afar  off,  we  fear,  in  point  of  literary 
interest — Mr.  Sutro's  stirring  appeal  in 
"The  Walls  of   Jericho."     Miss  George 


PLAYS    OF     11 1 K    SEASON 


175 


has  been  provided  with  an  t-xt client  pari 
and  much  of  the  success  of  the  \nt\t'  i> 
due  to  her  splendid  work.  Mr.  Frank 
\\'orthing  also  adds  distinction  to  the 
performance. 

"Nurse  Marjorie"  is  an  interesting^ 
comedy,  written  in  one  of  Mr.  Zangwill's 
lighter,  happier  veins,  and  the  role  in 
which  it  presents  Miss  Eleanor  Robson, 
if  somewhat  familiar  though  repeated 
association,  is  an  ever  charming  one. 

The  performance,  as  we  have  it,  was 
somew'hat  hurried,  perhaps,  for  the  per- 
fect enjoyment  of  certain  little  subtle- 
ties that  are  peculiar  to  Mr.  Zangwill, 
and  the  characterisations,  especially  of 
our  English  peers,  were  not  always  happ\-. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  fish  market  scene 
in  Whitcchapel  was  capital.  ^liss  Rob- 
son  is  billed  for  a  season  of  thirty  weeks, 
and  during  that  time  will  present  a  large 
repertory  of  new  plays. 

"The  Love  Letter,"  an  adaption — 
very  much  an  adaption  one  would  say — 
of  Sardou's  "La  Piste,"  offers  ]Miss  Vir- 
ginia Hamed  golden  opportunities  for 
the  display  of  her  many  personal  charms, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  display  of  hats  and 
gowns  that  are  the  envious  delight  of 
the  feminine  portion  of  her  audience. 
There  are  charming  bits  of  comedy,  too, 
that  aijford  momentary  glimpses  of  Sar- 
dou's bright  original,  but  for  the  most 
part  the  .American  version  is  too  ob- 
viously discreet  to  be  either  interesting 
or  plausible.  An  old  love  letter  turns 
up  unexpectedly,  and  though  the  indis- 
cretions brought  to  light  refer  to  the 
period  of  husband  number  one,  now- 
divorced,  the  testimony  of  dates  is  un- 
fortunately lacking.  Before  this  lack  is 
suppHed  many  farcical  situations  are  in- 
troduced, and  in  the  original  some  con- 
vincing comedy.  The  popular  success 
of  the  play  is  a  personal  triumph  for 
Miss  Hamed,  who  is  invariably  dehght- 
ful  in  comedv  roles. 

Shakespeare  has  been  well  represented 
so  far,  first  in  a  lovely  production  of  "A 
Midsummer  Night's  Dream,"  with  Miss 
Annie  Russell  as  -'Puck,"  and  later  by 
Miss  Viola  Allen's  equally  beautiful  pro- 
iluction  of  "Cymbehne,"  both  at  the  New 
Astor  theatre,  recently  opened.  Miss 
Allen's    return    to    Shakespearean    roles 


mr.  hexrv  miller  ix     the  great 
divide" 


will  be  especially  welcomed  by  lo^■er5  of 
classical  drama  everywhere. 

One  unmistakable  beacon  light  in  the 
earlier  dramatic  fog  we  have  referred 
to  was  Pinero's  "His  House  in  Order," 
in  which  John  Drew  and  ^largaret  Illing- 
ton  have  been  appearing  with  marked 
success  since  the  season  opened.  Pinero 
is  probably  the  most  finished  plax'Avright 
we  have,  and  "His  House  in  Order'"  re- 
flects these  qualities  in  their  perfection. 

Filmer  Jesson's  first  wife  has  been 
dead  three  years,  but  notwithstanding 
this  lapse  of  time  and  the  fact  that  her 
successor  has  been  installed  for  six 
months,  "Filmer's"  house  is  still  a  house 
of  mourning  for  the  dear  departed  "An- 
nabel," and  he  himself  the  pathetic  slave 
of  her  snobbish,  cruel  relatives.  This  is 
the  situation  that  confronts  the  second 
wife,  and  after  endviring  for  some  time 
the  indignities  that  such  a  situation 
would  naturally  provoke,  the  power,  in 
the  form  of  compromising  letters,  is  sud- 
denly put  into  her  hands  to  destroy  this 
dead  idol,  and  take  her  own  lawful  place 
in  the  home.  The  husband's  brother, 
"Hillary,"  who  has  been  her  sole  friend, 
pleads  with  her  in  a  beautifully  impas- 


176 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


MARGARET    AXGLIX    AS     'RUTH    JORDAN'"   IX    "THE    GREAT    DIVIDE 


sioned  speech  either  to  destroy  the  let- 
ters or  give  them  to  him. 

She  hands  the  letters  to  "Hillary,"  and 
through  him  the  husband  finally  learns 
the  truth  and  oft'ers  reparation.  This 
offer  the  wife  complacently  accepts. 
Dramatic  justice  would  have  dealt  other- 
wise we  think,  had  the  Pinero  we  knew 
aforetime  held  the  scales.  Nor,  in  that 
event,  would  the  lover  of  the  dead  Anna- 
bel and  father  of  the  child  before  us, 
have  complacently  allowed  himself  to 
be  kicked  out  of  doors  for  a  villain.  And 
as  it  proves,  the  cold,  rather  insuffer- 
able, order-loving  "Filmer"  had  driven 
the    ardent     "Annabel"     elsewhere    for 


consolation.  In  spite  of  these  weak- 
nesses the  drama  is  a  powerful  one,  and 
is  presented  with  ever\^  appreciation  of 
its  dignity  and  fine  literary  qualities. 
Mr.  John  Drew  as  "Hillary  Jesson" 
has  never  been  seen  to  better  advantage, 
and  Miss  Margaret  lUington  as  "Nina" 
is  wholly  admirable  and  charming. 

The  visit  of  Mr.  H.  B.  Irving  to  this 
country  has  been  in  pleasant  contemplation 
for  some  time.  Part  of  the  interest  was 
due  to  the  excellent  reputation  he  had 
already  made  for  himself  in  England, 
but  still  more  undoubtedly  to  the  fact 
that  he  was  the  son  of  the  beloved  Sir 
Henry,   that   prince   of  actors,   at   whose 


PLAYS    OF   THE    SEASON 


177 


shrine  every  devout  lover  of  the  drama 
will  long  kneel  in  reverence.  Compari- 
sons between  son  and  sire  were  in  the 
nature  of  things  inevitable,  but  beyond 
a  haunting  likeness  occasionally  noted 
in  gesture  or  look,  we  had  soon  forgotten 
the  old  in  the  contemplation  of  the  new 
personality  before  us. 

His  first  appearance  in  Stephen  Phil- 
lips' "Paola  and  Francesca,"  showed 
not  only  a  scholarly  appreciation  of  its 
poetic  qualities,  but  was  full  of  those 
human  touches  that  appeal  so  strongly 
in  Mr.  Phillips'  rare  and  beautiful  ver- 
sion of  the  Dante  theme.  And  not  since 
Forbes  Robertson's  "Hamlet"  have  we 
seen  a  more  moving  tragic  picture  than 
his  "Malatesta,"  every  note  of  whose 
character  is  sounded  from  love  for  his 
brother  "Paola"  in  the  first  scene,  to 
that  top  note  when  he  staggers  back 
from  the  murder,  his  hand  stained  with 
blood,  and  tells  us  in  tones  of  unutterable 
pity:  "They  look  like  children  fast 
asleep."  No  more  poetic  drama  has 
been  seen  on  the  American  stage  since 
Mrs.  LeMoyne's  exquisite  productions 
of  Browning's  "In  a  Balcony"  and  "A 
Blot  on  the  Scutcheon,"  both  of  which 
are  being  revived,  by  the  way,  in  con- 
junction wnth  Mr.  Henry  Miller. 

As  if  to  emphasise  his  versatility  by 
contrast,   Mr.    Irving's   next   appearance 
was  in  one  of  Sir  Henry's  old  successes, 
"The  Lyons  Mail,"  that  fine  old  melo- 
drama   of    Charles    Reade,    Mr.    Irving 
assuming    the    double    role  of    "Joseph 
Lesurques,"     Merchant     of     Paris,   and 
"Dubose,"  captain  of  a  gang  of  thieves. 
Both    characterisations    were    excellent, 
but  Dubose  in  the  last  act,  the  scene  of 
the   fatal    debauch,    when    his    hilarious 
triumph  is   cut   short   by  the  arrival  of 
soldiers,   was   especially   powerful   in   its 
grim,  sardonic,  malevolent  humour. 
1      His    "Charles    I,"    by    W.    G.    Wills, 
I  which  followed,  is  tender  and  dignified, 
with  a  nice  kingly  poise,  lighted  up  by 
j  most   playful   touches,  as  when   he   lays 
I  aside  affairs  of  state  to  romp  with  the 
,  children.     His    best    scene    is    when    he 
meets  Cromwell  face  to  face  at  Whitehall, 
and  ^\ath  fine  kingly  scorn  reproves  him 
for  his  duplicity.     There  is  a  still  deeper 
note  of  poignant  sorrow  in  the  scene  with 


Moray  when  he  paints  the  portrait  of  the 
traitor.  The  final  scene,  his  parting  from 
wife  and  children,  is  tender  and  affecting 
in  the  extreme. 

"The  Great  Divide,"  by  William 
Vaughn  Moody,  as  presented  by  Mr. 
Henry  Miller  and  Miss  Margaret  AngHn, 
is  perhaps  the  richest  experience  of  the 
present  dramatic  season.  The  only  pos- 
sible exception  would  be  "His  House  in 
Order,"  just  noticed,  and  while  Mr. 
Moody's  is  a  less  finished  play  than  the 
Pinero  offering,  it  is  of  far  deeper  import 
and  of  more  sincerity.  It  is  also  well 
within  the  Hmits  to  claim  that  the  Moody 
piece  marks  a  most  important  epoch  in 
the  drama  of  this  country,  if  it  be  not  indeed 
the  great  event  in  our  dramatic  history. 
The  fact  is  notorious  that  men  eminent 
in  letters  have  almost  invariably  aspired 
to  write  in  the  dramatic  form,  and  men  as 
famous  as  Henry  James  and  George  Mere- 
dith have  failed  altogether  in  the  attempt, 
while  Browning  and  Tennyson  succeeded 
only  in  a  measure.  But  the  author  of 
"Gloucester  Moor,"  who  holds  a  leading 
place  among  American  poets,  has  in  "The 
Great  Divide"  added  to  this  fame  that  of 
a  truly  great  dramatist  also.  In  this  offer- 
ing he  has  also  abandoned  his  earlier  class- 
ical form  represented  in  "The  Fire 
Bringer,"  and  "The  Masque  of  Judg- 
ment," and  treated  modem  life  in  a  highly 
original  and  unconventional  manner. 

One  would  hke  to  hnger  over  this  play 
lovingly  and  appreciatively  throughout 
the  course  of  an  entire  article  instead  of 
trying  to  condense  its  impressions  into  a 
paragraph  or  two.  Towering  as  the  play 
does  in  its  own  mountain  solitude,  it  offers 
sides  of  approach  so  many  that  a  choice 
is  bewildering.  There  are  its  human 
interest,  its  psychology,  its  drama,  its 
literary  and  poetic  charm,  and  having  ex- 
hausted these  there  would  still  remain  its 
great  spiritual  interest  dominating  all  the 
other  and  lifting  us  farther  into  its  own 
solitude.  It  has  been  called  the  great 
American  play,  and  while  it  is  great  and  of 
American  authorship,  in  its  more  import- 
ant sense  it  is  no  more  an  American  play 
than  "Ghosts"  is  a  Norwegian  play,  or 
"Magda"  a  German  play.  For  like 
"  Ghosts  "  or  "  Magda,"  or  any  great  con- 
tinental play,  its  theme  is  universal,  and  its 


178 


THE   CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


truths  as  eternal  as  the  hills,  which  Mr. 
Moody  has  so  well  chosen  for  the  play's 
setting.  The  author,  it  is  true,  takes  his 
inspiration  from  the  West,  but  only  the 
West,  by  which  we  mean  the  new  Western 
World  of  broader  opportunity,  where  life 
is  lived  somewhat  at  first  hand — could 
supply  either  the  background  or  the  ele- 
mental brute  force  necessary  to  the  struggle 
which  he  precipitates  with  our  own  con- 
ventionally spiritual  life.  And  in  this 
connection  we  have  sometimes  wondered 
if  Mr.  Moody's  fine  poem,  "The  Brute," 
does  not  oflfer  a  suggestive  clue,  if  not  to 
the  theme  of  "The  Great  Divide"  itself, 
at  least  to  his  own  larger  appreciation  of 
the  physical  elements  of  life.  For  the  play 
is  above  all  things  an  attempt  to  breathe 
the  larger  spirit  of  the  West,  with  all  it 
stands  for,  into  the  effete  East,  and  to  see 
spiritual  truths  in  a  much  broader  relation 
to  the  physical  universe  than  our  pious 
prayer-books  permit.  But  this  delays  the 
story. 

"Ruth  Jordan,"  left  alone  one  night  in 
her  brother's  ranch  house,  is  attacked  by 
three  roystering,  drunken  ruffians,  whose 
criminal  intent  toward  her  is  soon  made 
obvious.  To  save  herself  she  offers  to  go 
away  and  be  married  in  due  form  with  the 
least  offensive  of  the  three,  "Stephen 
Ghent,"  a  major  promise  which,  as  it 
stands,  lacks  plausibility  and  is  the  weak 
point  in  the  dramatic  structure.  But, 
the  situation  had  to  be  created  even  at  the 
cost  of  a  little  intellectual  brutality,  if  one 
may  so  describe  it,  and  once  created,  it 
abundantly  justifies  itself.  This  some- 
what melodramatic  opening  furnishes  only 
a  very  slight  clue,  if  any,  to  the  dramatic 
conflict  that  follows.  The  issues  are  es- 
sentially spiritual,  as  already  stated,  and 
the  nominal  factors  in  the  struggle  are  the 
Puritan  conscience  represented  in  "Ruth 
Jordan,"  and  the  brute  force  of  physical 
nature  represented  in  "Stephen  Ghent." 
And  out  there  on  "the  great  doorsteo  of 
the  world,"  as  it  is  more  than  once  beauti- 
fully described,  where  Ruth  Jordan  and 
Stephen  Ghent  take  up  their  life,  the  eter- 
nal conflict,  the  adjustment  of  the  physical 
and  the  spiritual,  is  waged.  To  Ruth  the 
situation  is  odious,  and  in  the  second  act 
where  her  brother  and  friends  come  upon 
her  in  a  scene  full  of  most  exquisite  human 


touches — she  is  secretly  weaving  baskets 
to  buy  back  her  freedom  from  the  man 
who  now  loves  her,  and  treats  her  with 
the  utmost  consideration  and  kindness. 
"Stephen  Ghent's"  natural  nobihty  of 
heart,  touched  by  spiritual  truth,  has  be- 
come pure  gold,  passion  and  impulse  are 
bowed  down  in  sorrow,  and  though  he 
cannot  understand  his  wife's  unhappiness, 
the  scene  closes  with  her  surrender  to  her 
brother. 

The  next  scene  finds  her  in  her  httle  New 
England  home  whither  "Stephen,"  blun- 
dering as  ever,  has  followed  her  and,  un- 
known to  her,  cared  for  and  saved  herself 
and  family  from  ruin.  The  discovery  of 
all  this  finally  results  in  her  own  awaken- 
ing to  the  larger  nobility  of  the  uncouth 
man  whom  she  has  unconsciously  loved 
all  the  time,  but  between  whom  and  herself, 
as  between  East  and  West,  yawned  "The 
Great  Divide." 

Of  the  acting  of  Miss  Anglin  and  Mr. 
Miller  in  their  respective  roles  too  much 
praise  can  hardly  be  given.  Mr.  Miller's 
"Stephen  Ghent,"  while  it  misses  nothing 
of  the  recklessness  and  daring  of  the 
western  frontier  man,  compels  your 
honest  admiration  and  sympathy  in  spite 
of  the  original  deed  of  violence.  The 
characterisation  is  full  of  strength — the 
strength  of  bone,  brain  and  muscle — 
with  the  simplicity  of  expression  that  is 
often  associated  with  physical  strength. 
The  quiet,  subdued  note  of  his  perform- 
ance was  precisely  the  note  the  play 
demanded  for  its  deeper  significance. 

Miss  Anglin's  "Ruth  Jordan"  marks 
the  most  important  step  in  her  upward 
career.  There  are  no  bursts  of  frenzy, 
such  as  characterise  "Zira, "  to  dazzle  us, 
with  their  brightness,  but  a  difficult,  sus- 
tained performance  such  as  only  an  artist ' 
in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  term  could 
carr\'  through  convincingly.  No  severer 
test,  unless  it  be  the  "Electra  of  Eurip- 
ides," could  be  imposed  on  an  actress 
perhaps,  than  the  prolonged  note  of  the 
second  act,  that  runs  almost  the  entire 
scale  of  human  emotion.  It  is  all  the 
more  diflicult  from  the  fact  that  the  action 
is  almost  entirely  psychological.  Yet, 
Miss  Anghn  not  only  carries  the  action 
successfully,  but  holds  her  audience  as  if 
in  a  thrall. 


The  Glove  Stakes 

A    Race-Track  Story 
By  W.  A.  ERASER,  author  oj  ^'Thoroughbreds,"  etc. 


IGHT  riders  gallopin;.'  on 
the  parapet  of  eternity;  seven 
men,  beckoned  by  the  hand 
of  fate  truant  in  a  lady's 
glove,  and  the  silent  horse- 
man: that  was  the  "Glove  Stakes" — the 
"extra"  at  the  Belmont  Hunt  Race  meet. 
It  was  Kathleen  Braund's  proposing,  and 
fate's  disposing. 

The  Braund  acres,  lying  broad  and 
many  about  the  old  manor,  "Twin 
Elms,"  stretched  away  in  luxuriant 
verdure  and  the  golden  drape  of  grain- 
fields  to  the  bordering  lands  that  had 
been  Patrick  Raebum's.  Raeburn  the 
elder  had  toyed  with  the  gods  of  chance 
with  fatuous  insistence  to  the  end  that 
there  had  come  an  intermission  in  the 
ownership  of  Killahoe;  and  James,  the 
son,  had  started  out  in  life  capitahsed 
only  by  his  inheritance  of  the  gambhng 
taint. 

Perhaps  fate  had  tired  of  his  surly 
mood;  perhaps  Dame  Fortune  hked  the 
happy,  smiUng,  Irish  face  of  the  younger 
Raeburn;  perhaps  the  youth's  clear- 
cut  decision  had  something  to  do  with  it; 
however  that  may  be,  Jim  Raeburn 
had  steadily  drained  from  the  race- 
course a  little  stream  of  gold,  and  now 
"Killahoe"  knew  a  Raeburn  again.  In 
the  rich  pasture-fields  thoroughbreds 
begot  thoroughbreds,  and,  like  all  else 
that  the  lord  of  the  manor  touched, 
profit  accrued. 

Belmont  County  was  a  land  of  horse 
and  horsemen;  and  the  Belmont  Hunt — 
'.veil,  it  was  a  hunt. 

The  week  of  the  race  meet,  quite  ap- 
propriately, the  play  "Caruth  Hall," 
splendidly  begilt  with  red  coats  and 
1  velvet  caps  and  knock-kneed  horses, 
eventuated  in  the  little  theatre  of  Bel- 
mont town.  Nobody  knew  that  Rae- 
!  bum  owned  the  company,  lock,  stock, 
;  and  barrel — or,  rather,  coat,  cap,  and 
horse,  but  he  did.  The  characteristic 
of  Raebum's  way  of  going  was  secrecy, 

179 


which  is  highly  commendable  on  the 
turf. 

In  the  stage  hunt,  the  master  of 
hounds.  Lord  Caruth,  was  Banfield 
Leigh,  whose  chief  qualification  for  the 
leading  part  was  that  Raeburn  admired 
him  as  he  did  a  stake-horse,  which  was 
regard  in  excelsis.  Leigh  was  a  gen- 
tleman; not  only  because  his  pater, 
like  Raebum's,  had  had  money  and  lost 
it,  and  had  schooled  Banfield  only  in  the 
gentle  art  of  doing  nothing  gracefully, 
but  because  he  was  thoroughbred — wind, 
hmb,  and  brain. 

Now  we  come  to  the  night  Kathleen 
Braund,  Fenner,  Barry,  and  two  others 
sat  in  a  box  trying  to  follow  the  tortu- 
ous plot  of  Lord  Caruth' s  wondrous 
career.  Fenner  was  an  egoist,  an  egotist, 
a  prig — he  was  many  more"  disquieting 
things;  and,  being  all  this,  his  worst  sin 
was  an  insistent  attention  to  the  young 
mistress  of  Twin  Elms. 

Banfield  could  look  the  part  of  Lord 
Caruth,  or  Lord  Anybody,  for  he  was 
handsome — tall,  lithe,  and  supple  as  an 
Indian.  And  Kathleen,  imaginative, 
susceptible,  as  the  big  violet-gray  eyes 
proclaimed,  grew  blind  to  the  incongruity 
of  the  cheap  play,  and,  after  a  little, 
Fenner,  with  jealous  intuition,  felt  the 
presence  of  an  annoying  influence,  and, 
unwisely,  grew  brutally  captious.  It  was 
the  egoist's  e\-il  destiny  that  Raeburn 
should  have  come  into  the  box,  to  sit 
through  his  sneering  arraignment  of  the 
make-believe  M.F.H.  and  his  knee-scarred 
hunter. 

Raeburn,  hstening,  knew  that  Fenner 
ought  to  be  punished  for  his  own  sake; 
and  in  the  violet  eyes  that  had  darkened 
to  ultramarine  he  read  that  the  man  ought 
to  be  punished  for  the  girl's  sake.  So, 
in  his  room  that  night,  he  drove  his  mind 
along  the  tortuous  trail  of  Fenner's  gratu- 
itous affronts,  which  was  altogether  un- 
lucky for  the  captious  one;  and  the  next 
morning   he   went   to   Twin    Elms   with 


180 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


anger  in  his  hot  Irish  heart,  and  a  plan 
in  his  cool  American  head. 

He  smiled  inwardly  when  talk  of  the 
play,  which  he  started,  passed  prematurely 
into  an  admiring  eulogy  of  Lord  Canith. 
Then  he  knew  he  was  on  safe  ground, 
and  said:  "Miss  Kathleen,  your  friend 
Fenner  is  considerably  a  bore,  isn't  he?" 

"He  was  uncomfortably  facetious  last 
evening." 

"Generously  rude.  He  ought  to  be 
punished — don't  you  think  so?" 

"I  haven't  thought  about  it — I  never 
do,  about  Fenner.  It  would  be  a  life's 
work  for  somebody  to  take  up." 

"I'll  take  it  up  gladly  if  you'll  help — 
for  a  dav." 

"Why— how?  Why  worry?  It  doesn't 
matter." 

"He  poked  stupid  fun  at  Banfield 
Leigh.  Leigh's  a  gentleman" — the  fugi- 
tive flush  that  faintly  rosed  the  girl's 
neck  and  cheek  was  not  too  short-lived 
for  the  speaker's  sharp  eye — "and,  worse 
— I  mean  also — he  sneered  at  Smuggler." 

"Who  is  Smuggler — the  villain  of  the 
play,  or  the  bailiflf  ?" 

"Smuggler  is  Leigh's  hunter.  Here, 
Miss  Kathleen,  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it. 
There's  sport  ahead,  I  can  promise  you. 
Smuggler  is  my  horse " 

"Fowr  horse?" 

"Oh!  I  forgot.  The  whole  outfit  is 
mine — yes,  I'm  fairy  godfather  to  that 
melodramatic  entanglement.  I'm  a  the- 
atrical promoter.  I  don't  know  anything 
about  the  profession,  and  neither  do  they, 
but  that  doesn't  matter,  we're  having  a  lot 
of  fun  out  of  it;  and — well,  I  like  Leigh. 
He's  not  a  bad  actor — I'vq  seen  worse — 
though  Booth's  fame  is  safe." 

"This  grows  interesting,  Mr.  Raeburn. 
Mr.  Leigh  certainly  is  a  gentlemanly 
actor,  an  way." 

"Yes,  and  he  can  ride;  and  that  beast 
Fenner  said  Leigh  sat  his  horse  like  a 
tailor.  I'm  going  to  tell  you  a  secret. 
Oh,  don't  expostulate!  I  don't  need  it 
as  a  secret  now,  or  I  wouldn't  tell  you — 
any  woman,  I  mean." 

"Thanks,  from  all  of  us." 

"Smuggler  is  a  rare  steeplechase  horse 
— or  he  was  till  he  broke  his  knees.  He 
jumped  so  well  that  he  grew  overcon- 
fident— understand  ?  " 


"Yes  I  know;  Black  Diamond  is  like 
that.  He  has  got  to  skimming  his  jumps 
till  he  is  unsafe." 

"Well,  Smuggler  hit  the  rails  once  too 
often,  and  came  down  with  his  knees  on 
a  granite  monument  or  something,  and 
cracked  them.  I've  nursed  him  for  over 
a  year;  stuck  him  in  that  play  just  to 
keep  him  from  moping;  he's  got  brains — 
he's  like  a  human.  He's  all  right  now — 
I  was  saving  him  for  a  big  coup,  I  don't 
mind  telling  you;   and  that — that " 

"Mr.  Fenner?" 

"Yes,  that  called  Smuggler — the  best 
steeplechaser  I  ever  owned — a  broken- 
down     cab-horse;     and "     Raeburn 

broke  off  and  clenched  his  fist  at  an  in- 
visible enemy. 

"WeU?" 

"The  coup  is  ofif,  that's  all.  Your 
hunt  meet  commences  to-morrow,  and  if 
you'll  make  a  social  hour  for  the  hunt 
chaps  and  invite  Leigh  and  me — why 
couldn't  we  make  an  extra  race — a 
special?" 

"I  see;  for  the  undoing  of  the  critical 
one,  eh?" 

Raeburn  nodded  eagerly,  saying:  "It 
will  be  easy;  I'll  put  Barry  up  to  draw 
Fenner  to  disparage  what  he  styled  last 
night  the  equine  bric-^-brac  at  Caruth 
Hall." 

"Mr.  Fenner  has  a  very  good  hunter. 
Firefly;  do  you  think  Smuggler  up  to 
beating  anything  we  have  here  ?  Because, 
if  we  made  a  race,  and  Fenner  won — 
you  don't  know  what  he  really  is  like — 
we'd  simply  have  to  sell  off  the  hounds 
and  abohsh  the  hunt.  He  can  ride,  too; 
though,  for  the  sake  of  content,  there  is  a 
sworn  compact  in  the  club  never  to  admit 
this." 

"Smuggler  can  beat  Firefly  or  Wasp, 
or  any  other  ornithological  quadruped 
Fenner  owns;  and  Leigh  can  outride 
him.  Smuggler  is  fit,  too — fit  enough; 
and  his  class  will  more  than  make  up  any 
little  difference  in  condition.  He's  been 
galloped  regularly — long,  slow  work,  of 
course — by  the  boy  who  looks  after  him; 
besides,  Leigh  rides  him  a  great  deal,  so 
he's  had  plenty  of  work." 

"Mr.  Leigh  knows,  then,  about  Smug- 
gler's qualities?" 

"Not  a  bit  of  it.     I  don't  work  a  coup 


THE    GLOVE   STAKES 


181 


1 


by  telling  everybody  what  I've  got. 
Smuggler  broke  down  before  he  advertised 
himself  to  the  public,  and  I  sha'n't  tell 
Leigh  of  the  horse's  quality  till  he  is  in  for 
the  race.     I  want  to  try  out  his  nerve." 

"I  like  it;  it  sounds  like  those  impos- 
sible racing  stories  I've  read  in  the  mag- 
azines, where  the  horses  and  the  people 
all  play  into  each  other's  hands.  I'll  do 
the  social,  and  you  the  horse  part.  You 
want  me  to  write  a  note  inviting  Mr. 
Leigh,  I  suppose?" 

"Make  it  a  man  affair,"  Raeburn 
added.  "D.O.,  demi-ofl5cial,  to  drink 
tea  and  arrange  about  the  hunt  races.  If 
you  had  women,  they  wouldn't  give  us  a 
chance  to  pit  Leigh  and  Fenner  together; 
they'd  mob  the  boy — they  always  do. 
He's  handsome  off  the  stage." 

As  Raeburn  left  Twin  Elms  he  chuckled. 
"Two  birds  with  one  barrel,"  he  muttered. 
"Mr.  Critic  will  get  the  surprise  of  his  life, 
and  Kathie — she's  too  good  for  such  a 
creature — she'll — well,  I  won't  say  what 
will  happen — I  hope  it  does.  I  like  the 
boy;  he's  like  herself — a  thoroughbred." 

Kathleen  sent  a  horseman  about  with 
an  invitation  that  was  like  a  summons, 
and  when  Raeburn  and  Leigh  arrived 
at  Twin  Elms,  on  the  stroke  of  four, 
there  were  a  dozen  men  of  the  Belmont 
Hunt  in  the  di'a wing-room.  As  Raeburn 
drew  Leigh  toward  the  comer  of  the 
room  where  Kathleen  was  holding  a 
little  court,  he  said:  "Keep  your  temper, 
Leigh,  if  that  sallow,  hawk-faced  individual 
beside  Miss  Braund  says  stupid  things. 
It's  his  way,  and  he's  a  bit  jealous.  Just 
leave  his  punishment  to  others — he'll 
get  it." 

"Ah,  Mr.  Leigh,  so  good  of  Mr.  Rae- 
burn to  bring  you,"  the  girl  welcomed, 
and  the  violet  eyes  made  stronger  the 
greeting.  "Now,  we'll  have  something 
besides  horse  to  talk  about.  Sit  beside 
me." 

But  presently  she  rose  and,  slipping  her 
hand  through   the  arm   of   Barry,   said: 

"Come  with  me.     I  want  you." 

"At  last!" 

"No,  not  yet,  that  way."  She  drew 
him  into  a  recessed  window. 

"What's  the  game,  Kathleen?"  he 
asked.  "Raeburn  looks  as  mysterious! 
There's  something  up — what  is  it?" 


"You  love  me,  Barry,  don't  you?" 

"If  I  say  yes,  you  won't  beUeve  me — 
you  never  do;  if  I  say  no,  you'll  know 
it's  a  lie." 

"Don't  be  stupid;  I  want  vou  to  prove 
it." 

"That  I'm  stupid?" 

"You  have;  that  you  love  me.  Fenner 
was  beastly  last  night." 

"He's  such  a  natural  chap — never  hides 
anything." 

"Well,  we've  got  to  put  him  through 
a  kindergarten  course  in  manners;  Rae- 
burn thinks  so,  .so  do  I.  You're  to  make 
the  running,  Barry.  Draw  him;  give 
him  a  chance  to  be  witty — over  the  play, 
you  know;  that  horse,  and  Mr.  Leigh 
yonder.  It's  all  Raebum's  idea."  This 
explanation  was  an  answer  to  a  quizzical 
gleam  in  Barry's  blue  eyes.  "Then  start 
the  idea  of  an  extra  race,  keep  Fenner 
going.  He's  sure  to  corner  Mr.  Leigh  to 
enter  his  stage  hunter.  He  had  some 
wretched  joke  last  night  that  it  was  a  saw- 
horse.  Oh,hei5  witty,  Barry!  Now, come." 

"I  don't  understand  it,  Kathleen," 
Barry  complained,  wrinkling  his  brows 
as  they  moved  toward  the  men.  "Who's 
the  joke  on  ?  W^iat  chance  will  the  stage 
horse  have  against  Firefly  if  we  make  a 
race  for  them?" 

"  Do  your  part,  Barry.  And  leave  it  to 
the  gods." 

"And  the  Lady  of  the  Silver  Veil." 

As  they  joined  the  group,  Leonard, 
of  the  hunt,  was  saying:  "We're  shy  of 
horses,  and  fellows,  too,  by  Jove!  Half 
the  Padoug  Hunt  chaps  have  gone  down 
to  Brookline  to  back  that  crazy  rack  of 
bones.  Topsail,  in  the  International. 
•  The  Foxglove  Annual  has  fallen  through; 
it  had  bad  conditions,  anyway." 

"Have  to  make  up  another  race  to  take 
its  place,"  Barry  suggested  casually. 

"WTiere  are  the  horses  to  come  from?" 
Stanton  asked  in  objection  to  this. 

"Change  the  conditions — throw  it  open 
to  anything.  There  are  no  fliers  coming 
to  Belmont." 

"We're  shy  of  riders,  too,"  Fenton 
wailed. 

"Mr.  Leigh  might  take  a  mount," 
Kathleen  lisped  tentatively;  "that  would 
be  one  more." 

"Capital!"  exclaimed  Fenner,  who  had 


183 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


been  watching  for  an  opening.  "Mr. 
Leigh  might  also  enter  that  chestnut  of 
his;  he'd  quaUfy,  regularly  ridden  to 
hounds  in  the  Caruth  Hunt." 

The  girl  smiled.  It  was  lovely;  the 
ready  rise  to  the  bait.  Barry  laughed 
outright,  maliciously. 

Leigh  coloured,  his  smooth  face  show- 
ing stronger  under  the  brick  red. 

And  Fenner,  not  knowing,  returned 
cheerfully  to  the  attack: 

"  I  should  say  he  was  a  safe  sort  of  beast, 
that  hunter  of  yours,  Mr.  Leigh;  no 
nonsense  about  him — go  straight  as  an 
arrow." 

Raeburn  smiled  indulgently.  "You 
have  a  good  eye  for  a  hunter,  Fenner," 
he  drawled  approvingly;  "the  chestnut 
is  as  fine  a  made  one  as  I've  seen  for 
many  a  day.  I  shouldn't  be  afraid  to  bet 
a  thousand  he's  seen  the  real  thing  in  his 
time.  He  looks  it.  Have  you  ever  put 
him  over  the  jumps,  Leigh?  He  takes 
the  bars  on  the  stage  Hke  a  cat." 

Kathleen  had  most  esoterically  come  by 
a  paper  and  pencil,  and  she  said:  "We'd 
better  arrange  this  race  at  once.  Who'll 
enter — who'll  ride — what's  it  to  be?  An 
extra  to  take  the  place  of  the  Foxbrook 
Annual,  not  filled?  What's  it  to  be? 
■  Distance,  weights,  and  all,  first." 

The  girl's  earnestness  spurred  the 
men  to  eager  suggestion.  Every  one 
contributed. 

Kathleen  wrote  rapidly,  filtering  the 
buzz  of  miles,  pounds,  conditions,  sim- 
plifying the  interminable  mass.  "Lis- 
ten!" then  aloud  she  read:  "A  steeple- 
chase for  horses  owned  by  members  of  the 

Belmont  Hunt  and "   she  hesitated, 

her  eyes  had  wandered  toward  Leigh; 
they  ran  cognizantly  over  his  lean,  sinewy 
figure — "and  members  of  the  learned 
professions;  catch  weights  over  one 
hundred  and  sixty  pounds;   two  miles." 

"Oh,  Augustus!"  muttered  Barry. 
"If  that  isn't  clever!  I'll  bet  Leigh  can 
scale  it,  and  Fenner  can't  ride  under  one 
hundred  and  seventy  to  save  his  neck." 
Aloud  he  queried:  "What  do  we  run 
for?" 

"That's  so,"  added  Raeburn.  "WTio 
donates — what's  the  prize  ?  " 

"We  must  make  the  stakes  worth 
while,"  came  with  Fenner's  disagreeable 


voice.  "Mr.  Leigh's  horse,  I  suppose,, 
draws  a  large  salary,  doesn't  he?  He 
can't  take  a  chance  of  breaking  a  leg  for 
nothing." 

Leigh  had  a  strong  temptation  to  reach 
over  and  tweak  Fenner's  nose,  but  even 
the  angry  retort  that  rose  to  his  lips  was 
checked  by  the  girl's  voice  saying:  "This 
is  to  be  an  affair  of  chivalry.  Belmont  is 
many  hundreds  of  years  behind,  so  this  is 
tournament  days.  You  knights  shall  ride 
for  My  Lady's  Glove — I  donate  it — the 
Glove  Stakes." 

"My  best  horse,  Oregon!"  exclaimed 
Barry;    "I'll  win  that  glove  or " 

"If  you  beat  Bluepoint,"  interrupted 
Stanton. 

"Wait,  please,"  Kathleen  pleaded;  "L 
shall  get  the  sentiment  and  the  boasting 
and  the  horses  all  mixed.  Now — Firefly, 
Mr.  Fenner?" 

He  nodded  eagerly. 

As  the  girl's  sHm,  tapered  fingers 
limned  the  outHne  of  the  plot,  the  men, 
enthused,  made  entry  with  clamour — all 
but  Banfield  Leigh,  who  sat  silent  in 
astonished,  sullen  anger.  He  was  evi- 
dently being  baited;  and  it  was  altogether 
execrable  form,  or  else  he  had  lost  all 
bearings  as  to  what  constituted  sport  or 
good  breeding.  He  was  like  a  captive 
among  brigands,  about  to  be  made  to 
dance  for  their  amusement.  But  Raeburn  I: 
That  was  the  confusing  part  of  it — that 
Raeburn,  his  friend,  was  one  of  the  in- 
sistents.  If  he  had  not  been  there,  Leigh 
would  have  flung  himself  from  Twin  Elms 
without  the  grace  of  a  farewell — indeed, 
with  an  imprecation  on  his  lips. 

"Now,  Mr.  Leigh,  your  horse?" 

It  was  the  soft  voice  Leigh  had  linked 
so  pleasantly  with  the  violet-gray  eyes. 
Yes,  they  had  looked  thoroughbred;  but 
if  their  owner  was  not  heartless — well, 
she  was  lacking  in  other  qualities  equally 
desirable. 

"It  would  be  nonsense,"  he  objected. 
"My  horse,  Dick " 

"Dick?"  Fenner  re-echoed  the  name 
in  a  voice  that  might  be  interpreted  to 
mean  anything  of  derision. 

"That  name  won't  do  at  ah,"  Rae- 
burn declared — "not  for  a  classy  race 
like  the  Glove  Stakes.     Enter  him  as — 


THE    GLOVE    STAKES 


183 


as — Smugjicler,  Miss  Kathleen;    that's  his 
name,  I'll  be  bound." 

The  violet  eyes  drooped  over  the  paper, 
and  only  the  name-horses  saw  the  mahci- 
ous  merriment  that  ran  riot  in  their 
depths.  "It's  delicious,"  she  whispered 
to  her  pencil.  "Poor  chap — I  mean 
Fenner.  There,  gentlemen,"  she  cried, 
passing  the  entry  list  to  Barry. 

The  men  crowded  around  him  and 
saw : 

THE  GLOVE  STAKES 

A  Steeplechase  for  horses  owned  by  mem- 
bers of  the  Belmont  Hunt  and  the  Learned 
Professions.  For  a  Lady's  Glove.  Catch 
weights  over  160  lbs.     Two  miles. 

1.  Mr.  Barrv's  Oregon. 

Blue   White  Cap. 

2.  Mr.  Fenner's  Firefly. 

Cerise. 

3.  Mr.  Stanton's  Bluepoint. 

Magpie. 

4.  Mr.  Leonard's  Tally-Ho. 

Old  Gold. 
.5.  Mr.  Stewart's  Mars. 
Silver  Gray. 

6.  Mr.  Loudon's  Red  Rose. 

Green.  Black  Sleeves. 

7.  Mr.  Leigh's  Smuggler. 

"By  Jove! "  cried  Barry.  That'll  make 
a  corking  fine  race.  \\'hat  are  your 
colours,  Leigh  ?     There's  none  here." 

"Leigh  will  ride  in  my  jacket — crimson 
and  black  cap,"  volunteered  Raebum. 

"To  be  run  the  last  day,  Saturday," 
Kathleen  added;  "that  will  give  Mr. 
Leigh  a  chance  to  school  his  horse." 

"I  can't  make  one  hundred  and  sixty," 
growled  Fenner;  "I  can't  ride  a  pound 
under  one  hundred  and  seventy." 

"You've  got  to  waste  or  carry  over- 
weight, that's  all,  then,"  Barry  declared. 
"I  can't  make  it  either.  Firefly  ought  to 
be  handicapped  at  one  hundred  and 
eighty,  an}^vay.  For  my  part,  I'm  going 
to  get  down  light — I'll  live  on  cream-puffs 
between  now  and  Saturday  to  win  Miss 
Kathleen's  glove." 

In  reality,  the  raison  d'etre  of  the 
afternoon  tea  had  been  realised,  so  soon 
1  the  broad  avenue,  with  its  double  file 
I  of  soldier  elms,  echoed  to  the  grinding 
!  whirr  of  wheels,  and  the  metalled  tramp 
i  of  eager  hunters.  As  Raebum  and  Leigh 
I  bowled  along  in  the  master  of  Killahoe's 
I  trap,   the   younger  man   said:     "It's   all 


devilish  fine — damn  funny,  I  must  say — 
but  I  tell  you  this,  Raebum — it's  not 
startlingly  original,  but  it's  trite  to  the 
occasion — you  can  lead  a  horse  to  water, 
but  you  can't  make  him  drink." 

"Trite  as  related  to  anything  in  par- 
ticular?" 

"Yes,  that  I  don't  play  the  goat  Satur- 
day, and  I  won't  play  the  inhuman  with 
old  Dick  by  giving  him  the  chance  to 
crack  a  leg.  What  the  devil  does  it  all 
mean,  anvvvay?  The  laugh  was  on  me, 
of  course,  but  why?  That's  what  I  want 
to  know — why?" 

The  master  of  Killahoe  looked  quiz- 
zically at  the  flushed,  angry  face  of  his 
companion.  "My  dear  boy,"  he  said 
presently,  "you've  got  the  loveliest  chance! 
Heavens!  It's  glorious.  That  girl's  all 
in,  I  tell  you;  you're  a  three  to  five 
chance." 

"In  the  race?" 

"Yes,  even  in  the  race,  but  I  meant 
something  else.  Let  me  tell  you — you've 
got  to  know,  of  course.  Smuggler,  if  it 
weren't  for  those  knees,  would  now  be  the 
best  steeplechase  horse  in  America.  He's 
that  now,  because  the  knees  are  all  right 
again,  only  he'd  need  six  months'  school- 
ing to  beat  the  cracks;  but  he  can  win 
from  these  hunters  or  I'll  eat  crow." 

"Does  Miss  Braund  know  this?" 

"Of  course  she  does.  Together  we've 
cooked  this  little  business  to  trim  that 
objectionable  cuss,  Fenner.  And  from 
now  on  ever}'thing  rests  with  you,  and 
I'll  back  you  to  make  good.  \\Tien 
you've  won  that  glove,  you'll  have  landed 
one  of  the  biggest  stakes  ever  ridden  for 
in  this  countr)-.  I  know  what  Kathleen 
Braund  is — she's  a  Braund,  and  they're 
all  ahke,  thoroughbred.  You've  got  four 
days  to  show  Smuggler  the  Belmont  course. 
You  needn't  worn^  over  his  jumping; 
he  knows  every  trick  of  the  game.  Just 
Hft  him  a  bit  at  the  mud  walls;  he  Ukes 
to  race  over  them — jumps  too  close." 

As  the  horses  were  being  saddled  for 
the  Glove  Stakes  Saturday,  Kathleen 
stood  beside  Raebum,  looking  at  Smug- 
gler. Somehow,  the  two,  rider  and  horse, 
made  up  a  picture  that  sent  the  girl's 
eager  blood  galloping.  The  sun  drew 
little  rainbows  of  bronze  and  green  and 
purple  from  the  vein-mapped  satin  skin 


184 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


of  the  big  chestnut;  and  the  perfume 
of  the  clovered  inner  field,  the  indefinable 
scent  of  battle  that  was  in  the  soft  summer 
air,  wafted  through  the  big,  thin,  coral- 
lined  nostrils  of  the  blooded  horse,  and 
roused  his  racing  spirit,  ennobUng  him 
into  a  dream  of  equine  beauty. 

As  the  girl  looked,  she  understood 
why  Raebum  had  said  that  Smuggler 
was  one  of  the  grandest  horses  he  had 
ever  owned.  Surely  it  was  in  those 
powerful  loins,  the  great  quarters,  and 
the  sweet-lined  neck  to  gallop  so  strong 
that  the  humiliation  of  Firelly  and  his 
owner  was  assured.  And  as  she  passed 
her  small  gloved  hand  down  the  seal- 
brouTi  neck,  the  horse  turned  his  lean, 
bony  head  and  snuggled  her  shoulder 
with  a  gentle  pressure  of  his  lips. 

"What  an  eye,  Miss  Kathleen!"  Rae- 
burn  cried,  in  the  voice  of  a  horse  lover. 
"  Isn't  that  courage  for  you  ?  And  wise — 
he  knows  more  than  a  great  many  men, 
I  can  tell  you." 

Just  beyond,  talking  to  Smuggler's  boy, 
was  Banfield  Leigh. 

The  girl  felt  that  some  strange  necro- 
mancy must  have  transformed  every- 
thing into  a  complement  of  beauty  fines. 
How  wide  and  square  the  shoulders 
•looked  under  the  crimson  silk;  how  the 
limbs  tapered  in  the  riding  gear,  fined 
dowTi  in  fines  of  suppleness  and  strength, 
and  beneath  the  black  cap.  the  clear-cut 
face  was  like  an  eager,  confident  boy's! 

Yes,  surely  those  two  actors  in  the 
fittle  drama  plot  would  play  their  part 
well,  whatever  happened. 

"Ah,  now  they're  going  to  mount!" 
Raebum  cried,  and  as  Leigh  swung  him- 
self leisurely  into  the  saddle  on  the  strong- 
backed  chestnut,  the  girl  said:  "My  good 
wishes,  Mr.  Leigh."  He  smiled  in  happy 
gratefulness,  and  when  his  face  was 
tiu-ned  towards  the  course  she  flicked 
Smuggler's  quarter  with  the  glove  of 
desire — just  a  foofish  touch  for  luck. 

Raeburn  walked  on  at  Leigh's  stirrup, 
sa)nng:  "Watch  that  beast  on  Firefly; 
I  know  what  he's  like.  If  he  thinks  you 
can  beat  him,  he'll  try  to  bring  you  dowTi. 
Keep  clear  of  him.  Smuggler  can  stay 
forever,  so  don't  be  in  a  hurry." 

As  Fenner  passed  Kathleen,  he  checked 
Firefly,  and,  bending  down,  with  an  ugly 


look  in  his  eyes,  said:  "This  was  to  have 
been  a  gentlemen's  race,  but  now  it's  the 
best  man  wins.  Oh,  I'll  give  them  enough 
of  it!  I'll  come  for  the  glove;  the  actor 
will  find  he's  not  on  the  stage." 

He  was  crowded  past  by  Barry  calling 
to  him  to  go  on. 

"Barry,"  the  girl  whispered,  "Fenner's 
ugly;  don't  let  him  bring  on  any  accident." 

"I'll  put  him  over  a  wall  if  he  cuts  up! 
Never  fear,  Kathleen;  I'll  watch  the 
sweep.  I'm  still  in  this  game  to  draw 
Fenner,  Kathleen.  I  know  I'm  not  in  it 
to  win,  but  I  don't  mind.  I'll  race  Firefly 
oft'  his  legs  for  a  mile;  I'll  make  the  pace 
so  hot  that  he'll  be  staggering  the  second 
time  round.  Firefly  is  high-strung — he'll 
want  to  race.  If  Fenner  attempts  to  take 
him  back,  he'll  sulk  and  blunder.  I  know 
— so  does  Fenner." 

"You  do  love  me,  Barry;  you've 
proved  it,"  the  girl  answered.  "I'll  be  a 
sister  to  you." 

From  the  stand,  sitting  beside  Raebum. 
Kathleen  watched  the  splash  of  colour 
that  was  like  a  great  square  of  tapestry 
let  into  the  green  background  of  the 
course.  The  horses  were  at  the  upper 
turn  for  the  start.  A  crimson  dot  claimed 
her  eye  always.  How  quiescently  restful 
it  was  in  that  irritating,  ever-changing 
woof  of  green  and  blue  and  old  gold,  that 
wove  in  and  out  interminably! 

Raebum,  watching  through  his  glasses, 
kept  up  a  monologue.  "That  Fenner's 
an  exquisite  beast!  That  would  have 
been  a  good  start,  but  he  calmly  swung 
Firefly  about,  just  to  rattle  Leigh;  can- 
noned into  Smuggler,  too.  He  is  a  beast ! 
There  they  go!  The  only  way  they'd 
e\-er  get  off — Fenner  in  front.  He's  just 
a  cheap  jockey!" 

A  horn  sounded  on  the  lawn;  a  yel- 
low flag  fluttered  to  the  turf  just  in  front 
of  the  rushing  charge  of  eager  horses; 
there  was  a  shuffling  of  feet  in  the  stand; 
the  air  came  up  off  the  course  carrving 
soft  s\Tnbols  of  struggle  as  though  it  felt 
the  press  of  straining  muscles  against  its 
back. 

As  the  big  chestnut,  swinging  along  in 
easy  stride,  took  the  first  mud  wall  as 
though  it  were  a  shadow  across  his  path, 
Raebum  looked  at  the  girl  with  a  smile  in 


THE   GLOVE   STAKES 


185 


his  eyes,  and  said:  "He'll  do  I  Isn't 
he  a  great  one  ?" 

"But  he  struck!  It  was  too  close!" 
The  girl's  voice  carried  a  wail  of  appre- 
hension. Across  at  the  mud  wall,  where 
Smuggler  had  skimmed  its  top,  a  cloud  of 
dust  rose  in  the  air  like  a  puff  of  rifle 
smoke.  Raeburn  looked  curiously  at  the 
drawn  face  of  the  girl,  and  as  he  turned 
to  the  field  again  he  muttered:  "Gad! 
She's  harder  hit  than  the  mud  wall." 

Down  the  back  they  raced  with  the 
speed  of  horses  that  strove  on  the  flat, 
Barry  driving  at  Oregon,  drawing  the 
high-mctalled  Firefly  into  foolish  haste. 
In  \'ain  Fenner  soothed  at  the  bay  with 
gentle  restraint  of  the  rein — he  dared  not 
do  more;  strong-checked.  Firefly,  rattled, 
would  surely  blunder  at  his  jumps. 

Out  in  front  the  two  swept  around  the 
lower  turn,  and  up  the  green-swarded 
course  toward  the  stand  the  seven  horses, 
eager  of  strife,  thundered,  their  hoofs 
rolling  from  the  turf  a  merry  tattoo,  the 
green  and  crimson  and  magpie  and  blue 
silks  coloured  against  the  sombre  back- 
ground of  the  distant  trees  like  a  memorial 
window  in  some  vast  cathedral.  Now 
the  leaders,  Firefly  and  Oregon,  were 
abreast  the  stand;  now  they  gathered 
their  loins  to  fly  the  water  jump. 

"Fenner's  over!  That  Firefly  is  a 
good  horse.  And  Barry,  too,"  Raeburn 
drawled.     "Ah-h-h!" 

The  "Ah"  ran  through  the  stand  as 
though  it  were  a  living  thing  that  shiv- 
ered in  apprehension,  as  Red  Rose, 
jumping  short,  reeled,  shot  downward 
shoulder  first,  blotting  Loudon,  her 
rider,  from  view.  But  a  sigh  of  relief 
went  up  as  something  in  green,  draggled 
and  wet,  sprawled  drunkenly  from  the 
ditch.     Loudon  was  alive. 

Almost  at  the  mare's  heels  Smuggler, 
with  lean,  far-stretched  neck  and  ears 
pricked  inquisitively,  gathered  his  mighty 
muscles,  crouched;  then,  rising,  his  knees 
well  clear  of  the  hedge,  shot  forward  and 
landed  many  feet  clear  of  the  water  that 
lay  like  a  huge  flat  mirror  in  the  green- 
sward. 

"That'll  do  for  riding,"  Raeburn  said, 
soft  joy  in  his  voice.  "Did  you  see 
Leigh  ease  his  weight  from  the  horse's 
quarters,   and   crouch   over   the   wither? 


When  they  landed  he  wouldn't  have 
crushed  an  egg  in  the  saddle.     He'll  do!" 

On  the  ujjper  turn  P'enner  failed  to 
steady  Firefly,  and  Oregon  shot  across  to 
the  inside.  Barry's  blue  jacket  blotted 
out  the  cerise  for  a  moment,  then  flickered 
derisively  in  front. 

Down  the  backstretch,  like  a  yacht's 
pennant,  floated  the  parti-coloured  silk 
streamer — Barry's  blue,  then  Fenner's 
cerise,  the  checkered  magpie  of  Stanton, 
and,  trailing  the  others,  a  splash  of  crim- 
son that  was  Smuggler.  The  great  chest- 
nut's slender  ears  were  pricked  in  the 
happy  content  of  conscious  power,  for  on 
his  rein  rested  a  hand  as  light  as  a  woman's. 

Just  before  the  lower  turn  Firefly  and 
Oregon  took  the  first  jump  of  the  in-and- 
out  together,  and  blue  and  cerise  blended 
as  one.  As  they  rose  for  the  second, 
Oregon  hung,  wavered,  a  cloud  of  dust 
almost  hiding  the  horse. 

"Fenner  crowded  Barry,"  Raeburn 
began.  "He's  down!  No,  he's  not. 
Good!  My  God!  something  else  gone. 
Smuggler's  in  on  top  of  them — they'll 
bring  him  down!" 

Kathleen  held  her  breath,  her  eyes 
strained  on  a  blotch  of  colour  that  lay 
quiescent  on  the  grass;  her  hand 
clutched  at  Raeburn's  arm.  "Who's 
down — oh,  my  God!   who's  down?" 

"Leonard.  There  goes  Tally-Ho  rider- 
less; poor  Leonard's  out  of  it!  Smuggler's 
all  right.  See  him  come!"  Raeburn's 
voice  was  a  squeal  of  vmholy  triumph — 
selfish,  indifferent,  claiming  interest  in 
nothing  but  the  big  chestnut. 

Then  sobered,  the  two  sat  silent,  and 
up  the  course  for  the  last  round,  came  the 
bay  horse  Firefly,  still  in  the  lead.  At  his 
heels  Barry  urged  Oregon,  cursing  the 
man  who  had  tried  to  bring  him  down  at 
the  in-and-out.  Just  behind  ^lars  and 
Bluepoint  raced  Smuggler,  with  his  long, 
swinging  stride.  With  a  weary  lurch  as 
he  galloped,  Bluepoint  crossed  his-  legs 
on  the  flat  and  fell,  shooting  Stanton  under 
the  very  nose  of  Smuggler.  The  stand 
held  its  breath  and  shuddered.  But  the 
chestnut  lifted  over  the  sprawled  man  as 
though  he  took  a  low  wall  in  his  stride, 
and  a  chorus  of  praise  vibrated  the  air. 

And  now  Leigh  drove  his  horse,  and 
Smuggler  spread  his  muscles  till  the  turf 


186 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


floated  by,  a  smooth  sea,  a  many-acred 
mantle  of  green  velvet.  Leigh  knew  that 
he  must  pass  Mars,  who  was  rolling  grog- 
gily  in  his  gallop,  before  he  reached  the 
water  jump,  or  the  tired  horse  might 
bring  him  down.  Now  Smuggler  was 
clear  of  Mars,  and  at  Oregon's  quarter; 
now  Leigh  raced  shoulder  to  shoulder 
with  Barry;  and  in  front  beckoned  the 
cerise  jacket  of  Fenner. 

"Go  on,  Leigh!"  Barry  panted.  "I'm 
done!     My  mount's — dead  beat." 

Fenner  heard  the  pound  of  eager  hoofs. 
He  shot  a  look  backward,  and  saw  the 
golden  head  of  the  horse  he  had  jeered  at. 
He  swung  at  Firefly  with  arm  and  knee, 
he  drove  his  spurs  into  the  bay's  flank; 
but  inch  by  inch  the  chestnut  head  thrust 
forward  till  it  was  at  his  girth. 

"Curse  that  lumbering  chestnut!"  he 
muttered.     "I'm   beat." 

Just  ahead,  a  dozen  strides,  the  brushed 
rail  of  the  water  jump  showed,  and  the 
angled,  guarding  wing.  A  small  devil 
whispered:  "Put  the  chestnut  over  the 
wing.  All's  fair  in  love  and  war.  You're 
beat,  you're  beat,  you're  beat!" 

The  drumming  hoofs  of  the  chestnut 
thundered  the  drear}'  monotone:  "  You're 
beat!     You're  beat!     You're  beat!" 

Fenner's  shoulders  swung  low  over  the 
bay's  withers,  his  right  hand  hung  heavily 
on  the  rein,  and  Firefly,  boring  to  the  right, 
blotted  from  Leigh's  eyes  the  jump-guard- 
ing hedge  till  he  saw  only  the  white  rails 
of  the  wing,  and  they  were  two  lengths 
away.  "Pull  out — give  me  a  chance!" 
he  yelled;  and  Barry,  a  length  behind,  saw 
the  deviltr}'  afoot,  and  drove  at  Oregon. 

A  stride;  too  late  to  pull  back — a 
■fall  is  inevitable!  Leigh  will  be  put  over 
the  wing  and  out  of  the  race! 

A  fury  of  strength  made  strong  his  heart. 
If  fall  he  must,  they  would  come  do^\Tl  to- 
gether;  he  would  bring  down  Fenner. 

As  the  head  of  Firefly  rose  in  the  air 
for  the  jump,  Leigh,  with  a  drive  of  the 
spur  and  a  swing  of  his  arms,  Hfted  the 
chestnut  and  swung  him  full  at  the  bay. 
DowTi  they  go,  cerise  and  crimson,  like 
splashes  of  spurting  blood;  bay  horse  and 
chestnut  brought  to  earth  Hke  fighting 
stags. 


And  Oregon,  with  a  hft  from  Barry,, 
swerved  to  the  left  and  landed  clear. 

The  stand  echoed  a  moan  that  was  a 
smothered  cry  of  fright. 

"Hurrah,  they're  up! "  somebody  yelled, 
in  an  exultant  tone  of  relief,  as  the  bay 
struggled  to  the  grass,  dragging  his  rider. 
Now  Fenner,  one  foot  in  the  stirrup,  pulls 
drunkenly  at  the  rein,  and  Firefly  spins 
around  in  a  circle.  Leigh  has  been 
thrown  clear;  the  chestnut  struggles  to  his 
feet,  plunges,  is  off.  Just  in  time!  Barry, 
who  had  pulled  up  Oregon,  grasps  Smug- 
gler's reins.  Leigh  is  in  the  saddle; 
Fenner  is  up.  "Hurrah!"  shakes  the 
stand  in  a  roar  of  applause. 

Down  the  backstretch,  bay  and  chestnut 
and  gray,  the  three  race;  cerise  and 
crimson  and  blue  sitting  atop.  Over  the 
two  jumps  of  the  in-and-out  the  trinity 
of  colour  undulates,  the  cerise  first.  Fire- 
fly is  surely  drawing  away;  he  has  a  length 
the  best  of  it.  Into  the  stretch  they  come, 
and  it  is  a  race.  Even  there  on  the  turns 
Leigh  has  nursed  the  chestnut  in  wisdom; 
now  he  calls:  "On,  boy,  on!"  He  lifts 
the  horse  with  his  knees — he  gains. 

The  golden  chestnut  and  the  bronze 
bay  now  blur  into  one. 

The  stand  shouts:  "Smuggler  wins! 
Firefly  wins!" 

It  is  anybody's  race.  The  tvu-moil  in 
the  stand  dies  away,  the  tongues  are 
hushed;  the  fierce  struggle  between  bay 
and  chestnut  has  silenced  the  clamour. 

Smuggler's  head,  lean,  eager,  black- 
wet,  pushes  past  the  bay's  quarter,  past 
his  girth,  past  his  shoulder;  they  take 
each  other's  breath.  Fenner's  whip- 
hand  falls  useless  at  his  side — the  chestnut 
blocks  the  sweep  of  his  lash.  A  dozen 
strides,  a  last  effort;  then  Raebum, 
shpping  his  glasses  into  their  leather  case, 
turned  to  Kathleen  with  a  sigh  of  rehef: 
"Gad!  it  was  a  close  thing,  but  we  won." 

And  presently  a  man  in  a  crimson 
jacket  came  across  the  lawn  from  the 
judge's  stand,  and  over  his  face,  still 
drawn  from  the  grasp  of  strife,  flitted  a 
happy  smile  as  the  girl,  looking  into  the 
tired  face  out  of  deep  violet  eyes,  gave 
him  a  glove  that  was  crumpled  and  twisted 
out  of  all  semblance  to  a  gage  of  love. 


A  SEQUEL  TO  THIS  WILL  APPEAR  IN  JANUARY 


FRITHIOF  XAXSEN'S  "  Farthest 
North,"  was  the  last  word  about 
Arctic  exploration  in  1895.  Then  the 
Duke  of  Abruzzi  pushed  a  few  more 
miles  beyond  eighty-six  degrees  in  1900, 
and  now  Commander  Peary  has  written 
the  latest  edition  of  "Farthest  North," 
with  the  record  of  87.6  degrees.  To  be 
thirty-four  miles  ahead  of  former  Arctic 
explorers  is  a  proud  position  indeed,  for 
the  north  is  a  test  of  those  qualities  of 
pluck  and  endurance  which  are  deemed 
manly  even  by  this  commercial  age.  One 
of  the  earliest  congratulatory  messages 
to  the  Peary  Arctic  Club  came  from  Wil- 
liam Bruce,  of  Edinburgh,  who  spent 
two  years  exploring  the  ^Arctic  regions 
with  the  Scotia.  To  the  absolute  utili- 
tarian, the  spirit  of  Nansen,  Peary  and 
Abruzzi  is  something  to  marvel  at,  if  not 
to  despise.  But  in  every  age  there  are 
some  natures  to  whom  the  long  trail  is 
irresistible;  and  to  these  adventurous 
spirits  civiHsation  owes  many  a  new  high- 
way and  fresh  territor}'.  The  Arctic 
snows  have  dra\\Ti  explorers  from  all 
latitudes;  the  Italian  nobleman  has  felt  the 
lure  as  keenly  as  the  Norseman.  Com- 
mander Peary  of  the  Roosevelt  at  present 
holds  the  distinction  of  having  been  nearer 
the  Pole  than  any  other  of  the  adven- 
turous band.  But  his  supremacy  is 
already  threatened  by  Walter  \\'ellman, 
who  has  strong  hopes  that  his  airship  will 
cover,  next  summer,  the  two  hundred 
miles  between  Peary's  stopping-place  and 
the  Pole.  Wellman's  base  is  to  be 
Spitzbergen  and  he  is  to  have  every  aid  of 
modem  science  and  finance.  Should  he 
succeed  in  his  aerial  trip,  it  will  be  like  a 
Jules  Verne  tale  come  true.  The  ex- 
plorer appeals  to  cosmopolitan  sympathies 
and  his  success  means  international  con- 
gratulation, for  all  the  world  will  be  in  debt 
to  the  man  who  reaches  the  Ultimate  North. 

u 

The  work  of  the  National  Congress 
party  in  India  has  lately  been  attracting 
European  attention,  and  strangely  enough 

187 


the  French  journals  have  shown  more 
active  intere.st  in  the  matter  than  those  of 
Germany.  The  defeat  of  Russia  by 
Japan  has  had  the  effect  of  making  more 
remote  the  danger  that  always  threatens 
England  from  beyond  the  Khyber  Pass. 
But  it  has  also  had  the  effect  of  rousing  the 
Hindu  to  a  reahsation  of  the  possibilities 
of  Oriental  resistance  to  an  European 
power.  The  authorised  programme  of 
the  National  Congress  party  includes  in- 
creased representation  of  native  opinion  on 
the  councils  of  government,  a  larger  share 
in  the  administration  and  a  more  effective 
control  of  public  expenditure.  However, 
a  matter  that  has  touched  the  Hindu 
people  much  more  closely  than  the  ques- 
tions of  representation  or  finance  is  the 
partition  of  Bengal^  which  act,  according 
to  a  French  critic,  "divided  a  territor}' 
ethnically  one,  and  hurt  the  pride  of  a 
race  of  fine  civilisation."  What  may  seem 
entirely  reasonable  and  practical  in 
Western  eyes  may  be  to  the  Oriental  an 
insult  to  his  faith  or  an  outrage  of  his 
prejudices.  Half  a  century-  ago  innocent 
English  women  and  children  paid  a  fear- 
ful price  for  the  blundering  of  unimagina- 
tive officials. 

But  it  must  be  remembered  that  this 
National  Congress  party  can  hardly 
represent  the  complex  millions  of  India, 
peoples  of  different  races,  creeds  and 
languages.  The  warlike  tribes  are  al- 
most contemptuous  of  the  political  aspira- 
tions of  native  teachers  and  professors, 
and  the  body  of  barristers  and  pleaders. 
There  is  no  question  about  the  spread  of 
a  restless  desire  among  the  Hindus  to  take 
a  more  active  and  conspicuous  part  in  the 
public  service,  and  Home  critics  of  the 
Government  have  not  been  altogether 
judicious  in  the  attitude  they  have 
assumed  towards  native  agitations.  The 
British  electorate  imderstands  the  "Pick- 
wickian" interpretation  of  campaign 
oratory,  but  the  Hindu  is  too  likely  to 
think  that  the  politician  is  as  sincerely 
do\\Tiright  as  the  soldier.  The  statement 
made  bv  a  writer  in  the  London  Times: 


188 


THE   CANADIAN   IVIAGAZINE 


A  SOLACE  FOR  DISHONOUR 

Gexer.\l  Officer:  "I  see  some  of  our  fellows  have  got 
the  punishment  they  deserve  for  this  job.  What  have  you 
got?" 

Army  Contractor:     "Apoto'  money,  my  boy!" — Punch. 


"The  English  educational  system,  com- 
bined with  the  introduction  of  representa- 
tive institutions,  has  created  new  poUtical 
forces  antagonistic  to  Enghsh  Rule," 
recalls  the  reflection  of  the  historian 
Green,  that  the  success  of  Thomas  Crom- 
well's policy  involved  its  final  defeat. 
England  may  discover  that  a  little  Occi- 
dental learning  in  the  school  of  poUtics 
is  a  dangerous  thing  for  the  Hindu. 

However,  the  comment  of  an  .\merican 
obsetA-er:  "The  natives  of  India  seem  to 
be  working  for  the  same  objects  as  really 
occupied  the  minds  of  our  forefathers 
when  they  took  part  in  the  'Boston  Tea 
Party',"   is   highly   amusing.      To   com- 


pare the  Hindu  poUti- 
cal conditions  of  1906 
mth  the  ferment  in  the 
American  colonies  of  1776 
is  to  mistake  entirely  the 
peoples  and  their  prob- 
lems. The  Americans  who 
revolted  were  chiefly  men 
of  British  and  Dutch  de- 
scent, with  traditions  of 
centtu"ies  of  political  con- 
flict and  conquest  in  their 
blood.  The  Hindu  has 
but  a  vague  idea  of  rep- 
resentation and  a  still  more 
nebulous  conception  of 
ministerial  responsibihty. 
\\'e  have  Mr.  Kipling's 
authority  for  it  that  the 
East  ^vill  never  learn  to 
\'ote  save  with  swords  for 
tickets.  He  also  represents 
the  late  Marquis  of  Dufferin 
as  declaring  that  the  Vice- 
roy of  India  is  a  man  who 
smokes  in  powder-maga- 
zines. The  present  situa- 
tion, no  doubt,  calls  for  all 
''that  singular  sagacity  with 
which  England  has  retained 
her  hold  on  the  Eastern 
Continent."  But  it  is  com- 
forting to  British  subjects 
in  the  self-governing  colo- 
nies to  reflect  that  England 
has  seldom  lacked  the  far- 
\isioned  statesman  who 
knows  when  and  how  "to 
make  the  boimds  of  freedom  wider  yet." 

French  ministries  change  so  often  that 
it  is  diffictflt  for  a  Canadian  to  keep 
famihar  with  the  names  of  the  Premiers, 
much  less  with  the  various  members  of 
the  ministr}'.  In  the  recent  Sarrien 
cabinet,  there  was  one  name  better 
known  than  that  of  the  Premier;  M. 
Georges  Clemenceau,  Minister  of  In- 
terior, has  long  been  a  notable  figure  in 
French  pohtics.  When,  therefore,  it  was 
announced  that,  owing  to  poor  health, 
M.  Sarrien  would  retire,  public  opinion 
at  once  concluded  that  he  would  be  sue- 


CURRENT  EVENTS  ABROAD 


180 


cecded  in  the  reconstruction 
by  M.  Clemenceau,  and  the 
surmise  proved  correct. 

M.  Clemenceau  is  a  highly 
cultured  scientist  and  philos- 
opher. He  is  known  through- 
out Europe  as  a  scholar  and 
a  man  of  affairs.  Though 
he  entered  Parliament  in  1870, 
he  only  recently  became  a 
cabinet  minister,  but  his  prog- 
ress to  the  leading  position 
was  rapid  and  decisive.  By 
education  he  is  a  medical 
man;  by  experience  he  is  a 
journalist  and  a  professor  of 
literature;  by  choice  he  is  an 
administrator. 

When  the  Empire  fell  in 
1870,  Arago  made  him  Mayor 
of  jSIontmarte,  where  he  had 
some  rare  experiences  for  even 
those  troublous  times.  He 
was  a  conciliator  and  as  such 
narrowly  escaped  extermina- 
tion because  of  his  opposition  to  Thiers. 
In  1876,  he  entered  the  Chamber  of 
Deputies,  and  has  since  been  a  brilliant 
exponent  of  strict  repubUcan  principles. 
He  has  laboured  strictly  to  give  France 
industries,  schools,  roads  and  the  highest 
domestic  prosperity.  He  has  protested 
against  all  colonial  ventures  as  dissipating 
the  strength  and  effort  of  the  republic. 

He  became  editor  of  UAurore  just 
when  the  Dreyfus  case  was  first  heard 
of,  and  L'Aurore  struck  the  first  blow 
for  revision.  Through  this  journal,  Zola 
spoke  his  protests.  Zola  is  dead,  Drey- 
fus is  vindicated,  Clemenceau  is  Premier 
— but  what  a  ten  years'  struggle!  What 
a  conflict  of  honour  and  dishonour! 
Until  that  case  was  settled,  M.  Clemen- 
ceau could  not  have  become  Premier. 
When  a  man  unites  with  a  cause,  he 
cannot  reap  personal  reward  until  after 
his  cause  has  won.     And  it  is  best  so. 


M.  Clemenceau  must  take  up  the  con- 
tinuous struggle  with  the  Pope.  Like 
his  predecessors,  he  believes  in  dis- 
establishment, and  will  carry  out  their 
policy.      Because    of    his    bulldog    char- 


<\S    his     P^tI'^    kifct'M.ves 
k.'.._  .  i 


FROM  AN  ARTIST'S  NOTE-BOOK 

— E.  W.  Kemble  in  Collier's  Weekly 


acter,  his  forcible  methods,  his  undoubt- 
ed courage,  the  Church  has  little  to 
hope  from  him.  Yet  he  is  not  a  socialist. 
He  has  no  sympathy  with  that  extreme 
movement,  and  he  will  not  even  dally 
with  it  in  the  manner  of  the  present 
British  ministry.  He  considers  that 
movement  to  be  anti-republican,  and 
that  is  enough. 

rr 

Germany  has  had  a  month  of  excite- 
ment over  the  publication  of  excerpts 
from  the  diary  of  the  late  Prince  Hohen- 
lohe-Schillingsfirrst.  These  were  pub- 
lished in  two  periodicals,  and  afterwards 
issued  in  book  form.  They  throw  new 
light  on  the  career  of  the  late  Prince 
Bismarck,  and  prove  that  he  was  a  great 
menace  to  European  peace,  that  he 
desired  a  second  war  with  France  five 
years  after  the  first  had  closed,  that  he 
was  continually  aiming  at  an  aggressive 
policy  which  would  increase  his  own 
power.  It  is  also  made  plain  that  during 
the  short  regime  of  Emperor  Frederick, 
Bismarck  caused  him  much  trouble  by 
his  autocratic  methods.  He  was  rude 
to  the  late  Empress  Frederick,  and  aroused 


190 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


REST,  REST,  PERTURBING  SPIRIT! 

Kaiser  Wilhelm:  "Donnerwetter!  I  thofight  I'd  seen  the 
last  of  you!" 

Shade  of  Bismarck:  "The  last  of  me?  A\'ait  till  you  see  my 
revelations!" — Punch. 


the  even  temper  of  King  Edward,  then 
Prince  of  Wales.  Finally,  the  young 
Emperor  found  it  necessary  to  get  rid 
of  him  because  of  the  incompatibility 
of  their  aims.  In  a  word,  a  rude  and 
ambitious  Bismarck  stands  revealed. 

Even  more  interesting  to  Britishers, 
in  these  Hohenlohe  memoirs,  is  to  be 
found  a  declaration  by  the  late  Czar, 
Alexander  II,  that  the  reputed  will  of 
Peter  the  Great,  which  has  caused  so 
much  antagonism  between  Russia  and 
Great  Britain,  is  a  myth.  It  is  stated 
that  the  Czar  told  this  to  Lord  Augustus 
Loftus,  the  British  ambassador  at  St. 
Petersburg,  and  asked  him  to  remember 
three  points:   (i)   The  will  of  Peter  the 


Great  does  not  exist; 
(2)  I  shall  never 
make  conquests  in 
India;  and  (3)  I  shall 
never  go  to  Con- 
stantinople. 

On  the  whole,  it 
would  seem  that  the 
pubHcation  of  these 
memoirs  will  tend 
towards  a  better  un- 
derstanding in  Eu- 
rope. In  spite  of 
the  Times'  protest 
against  such  disclos- 
ures as  not  being 
in  the  interests  of 
diplomacy,  it  would 
.  seem  as  if  the  secrecy 
of  the  diplomacy  of 
the  past  allowed 
nations  to  be  plunged 
into  conflicts  which 
they  did  not  under- 
stand. With  more 
information,  the 
people  would  have 
been  less  likely  to  be 
misled,  and  conflict 
would  have  been 
avoided. 

V 

The  continental 
press  is  still  busy 
with  the  alleged  rela- 
tions between  Great 
Britain  and  Ger- 
many. Those  "Pan- 
German"  alarmists,  who  believe  that 
the  Anglo-French  entente  means  antag- 
onism to  Germany,  have  been  disturbed 
by  the  visit  of  the  Lord  Mayor  of  Lon- 
don and  certain  aldermen  to  Paris.  The 
Parisians  proved  admirable  hosts  to  the 
visiting  Britons,  while  the  lavish  display 
in  entertainment  reminded  one  of  the 
historic  description,  "Field  of  the  Cloth 
of  Gold,"  and  the  brave  days  of  old  when 
Henry  of  England  and  Francis  of  France 
met  for  a  friendly  conference.  The  un- 
fortunate Meteor  episode  proved  that  the 
visit  of  the  German  editors  to  England 
had  been  swiftly  forgotten  by  the  guests, 
who  were  at  no  pains  to  allay  the  popu- 
lar irritation  and  misunderstandinsf. 


\^?tAN 


^PHtRL 


/^I.D  friends,  old  hopes  for  Christmas, 
^^  And  the  dreams  of  days  gone  by! 
Hark  how  the  bells  are  clanging, 

Beneath  the  frosty  sky; 
The  world  is  full  of  gladness, 

Greeting  and  clasp  and  song; 
And  in  our  hearts  a  music  wakes 

That  has  been  silent  long. 

Old  ways,  old  words  for  Christmas, 

And  the  love  that  knows  no  bar ; 
Though  some  true  hearts  are  near  us, 

And  some  are  scattered  far; 
The  world  is  full  of  partings, — 

But  space  and  time  are  vain     • 
To  blut  the  glass  that  memory  holds 

When  Yule-tide  comes  again ! 

— Elizabeth  Roberts  MacDonald. 

u 

THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  GIFT 

*'■  XT  rHAT  was  the  nicest  present  you 
''  ever  received  ? "  was  the  question 
asked  of  a  popular  woman.  "A  long 
letter  from  a  busy  friend,"  was  the  reply. 
''I  received  it  the  day  after  Christmas  and 
I  was  just  beginning  to  feel  the  blueness 
of  the  next  morning  when  it  came  to  me, 
full  of  jolly  'don't  you  remembers!'  and 
little  evidences  of  not  having  forgotten 
the  old  times  and  associations.  It  was 
so  brimful  of  thought  for  me  that  I  put  it 
away  more  carefully  than  I  did  the  silver 
toilet  set  that  had  come  the  day  before." 

We  are  all  affected  by  the  fact  of  a 
friend's  remembrance  of  our  individual 
tastes  and  preferences;  and  the  woman 
who  is  quite  superior  to  being  appreciated 
and  considered  is  altogether  too  impersonal 
for  human  nature's  daily  diet.  The  small 
gift  tied  with  ribbons  of  your  favourite 
colour  and  accompanied  by  a  message 
which  belongs  to  you  alone  is  more  to  be 
desired  than  the  richer  gift,  chosen  care- 
lessly, with  no  thought  of  the  dainty 
intimate  touches  that  make  the  better 
part    of   the    present.     "Rich    gifts    wax 

191 


poor  when  givers  [)rove  unkind,"  was  the 
English  poet's  judgment,  and  an  indiffer- 
ent giver  is  almost  as  bad  as  one  that 
proves  unkind. 

In  spite  of  the  ridicule  of  wedding  gifts 
and  Christmas  presents,  the  custom  of 
bestowing  gifts  on  a  bride,  and  of  inter- 
changing friendly  remembrances  at  Christ- 
mas time  are  among  those  traditions 
which  touch  life  with  a  glow  of  unselfish- 
ness. Like  everything  good,  these  prac- 
tices may  be  abused;  but  only  a  Scrooge, 
as  that  crabbed  old  chap  was  before  his 
change  of  heart,  could  wish  a  bride  to  go 
giftless  or  could  rejoice  if  the  Christmas 
candles  remained  unlighted.  But  we 
have  got  into  a  foolish  way  of  thinking 
that  a  present  must  suggest  money,  or,  in 
other  words,  show  its  price.  That  idea 
kills  all  the  real  Christmas  joy,  while  it 
soils  and  spoils  the  custom  that  sprang 
from  "good-will  to  men."  That  which 
shows  thought  and  time  bestowed  by  the 
giver  is  the  gift  that  kindles  and  brightens 
the  blaze  of  Yule-tide. 


TIMELY    DON'TS 

CERTAIN  columns  for  women  have  a 
cheerful  way  of  suggesting  little  gifts 
for  the  men  of  the  household — ties  made 
out  of  discarded  piano  drapes,  and  such 
dainty  fancies!  It  is  always  easy  to  choose 
a  present  for  a  woman  friend,  for  the  small 
feminine  wants  are  so  many  that  it  is 
difficult  to  make  a  serious  blunder.  But 
a  present,  however  insignificant,  for  a  man 
is  entirely  another  story,  sometimes  with 
a  sad  or  profane  sequel.  WTiatever  you 
experiment  with,  refrain  from  My  Lady 
Nicotine.  WTiat  is  said  by  the  profes- 
sional humorists  concerning  man's  despair 
over  woman's  choice  of  tobacco  is  pro 
foundlv  true.     The  woman  does  not  live 


192 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


who  can  please  a  man  by  her  tobacco 
tributes.  "A  woman  is  only  a  woman; 
but  a  good  cigar  is  a  smoke, "  sang  Kipling 
defiantly.  There  is  an  inherent  feminine 
inability  to  tell  what  cigars  make  a  smoke; 
and  the  wise  woman  refrains  from  the 
attempt  to  choose  the  "dusky  brides." 

Then  it  may  be  remembered  that  men 
dislike  fussy  things.  Whisk-holders  that 
are  chiefly  pink  ribbon,  hand-painted 
inkstands  and  highly-decorated  Steven- 
son's prayers  are  not  among  the  things 
that  make  for  masculine  comfort.  Pictures 
also  are  not  to  be  bought  in  an  idle  mo- 
ment, for  the  average  man  has  weird 
notions  about  art  and  is  likely  to  prefer  a 
cartoon  or  a  football  photograph  to  "The 
Angelus,"  or  the  Sistine  Madonna.  Per- 
haps a  good  dinner  or  "just  being  let 
alone"  is  the  greatest  favour  that  can  be 
bestowed  upon  man  by  his  feminine 
relatives. 

tr 

WOMEN  AND  THE  WEST 

A  GREAT  deal  is  being  written  just 
now  about  the  golden  opportunities 
that  are  lying  about,  all  unseized,  in  the 
West.  A  correspondent  has  written  a 
word  of  warning  about  the  chances  for 
enterprising  women  to  make  good  liveli- 
hoods in  Newest  Canada.  While  she 
admits  that  a  woman  possessed  of  strength 
and  pluck  may  make  a  place  for  herself 
and  prosper  greatly,  she  asks  would-be 
Westerners  to  remember  that  Manitoba 
and  the  two  new  provinces  are  not  the 
home  for  weaklings,  or  for  those  who 
consider  work  a  hardship.  You  must  be 
prepared  to  labour  and  to  wait,  and  even 
to  smile,  "when  everything  goes  dead 
wrong."  The  woman  who  cannot  cook, 
who  cannot  sew,  who  cannot  enjoy  long 
walks  and  rides  is  better  away  from  the 
West.  There  is  no  room  there  for  the  loafer 
or  the  grumbler.  Wherefore,  if  pink  teas 
and  bridge  parties  are  essential  to  your 
happiness,  do  not  take  the  express  for  the 
prairies.  For  advice  on  the  subject,  given 
by  one  who  has  recently  had  an  excellent 
opportunity  to  find  out  the  openings  of 
Western  life,  the  letters  written  for 
"Woman's  Kingdom,"  by  "Kit"  of  the 
Mail  and  Empire,  are  timely  and  valuable. 
A  writer  in  T.  P.'s  Weekly  says:    "In 


my  own  case,  I  may  add,  I  came  to  the 
Canadian  West  with  exactly  thirty-five 
cents  in  my  purse;  just  enough  to  buy 
my  first  breakfast.  In  three  hours  I  got 
work;  in  two  years  I  began  to  have  a  small 
bank  account,  and  after  twenty-six  years' 
experience  of  wait  and  work,  as  a  journal- 
ist, I  can  say  to  all  other  women,  come  to 
Canada  the  golden — come  with  means  or 
come  without  means;  but  if  you  do  come, 
come  prepared  to  work,  for  the  reward  is 
sure." 

CO-OPERATIVE   HOUSEKEEPING 

T^HE  Women's  Institutes  of  Ontario 
-*■  now  have  quite  a  considerable 
literature  of  their  own,  issued  by  the 
Department  of  Agriculture.  The  "Hand 
Book"  contains  much  interesting  informa- 
tion, among  which  is  a  series  of  articles 
by  Ellen  H.  Richards  concerning  modem 
housekeeping.  The  following  remarks  on 
co-operative  methods  are  of  interest,  in 
view  of  the  frequent  advocacy  of  such  a 
course : 

"Those  who  advocate  co-operative  house- 
keeping, often  forget  the  infinite  diversity  of 
American  habits,  tastes  and  incomes.  Even 
in  an  industrial  or  trade  centre,  where  there 
are  thousands  of  operatives  or  clerks  doing 
the  same  work  and  receiving  the  same  wages, 
the  homes  of  the  majority  of  those  earning 
more  than  a  living  wage  will  be  found  to 
differentiate  into  infinite  variety:  one  family 
spends  all  its  surplus  on  clothes,  another  on 
food,  another  on  pleasures. 

"It  is  the  very  freedom  which  we  boast 
that  our  air  is  carrying  into  everyone's  lungs 
and  with  which  everyone's  brain  is  being  in- 
toxicated, that  favours  the  diversity  of  ap- 
petite which  is  the  bane  of  every  boarding- 
housekeeper's  Hfe  and  every  shopkeepers' 
balance  sheet. 

"To  one  who  has  listened  to  the  caustic 
criticism  of  a  group  of  housewives  upon  the 
methods  of  an  absent  acquaintance,  the 
praises  of  co-operative  housekeeping  provoke 
only  an  incredulous  smile.  No  painstaking, 
conscientious  woman  who  likes  housekeeping, 
who  feels  a  pride  in  the  power  she  wields  in 
her  domain,  will  ever  take  kindly  to  any 
plan  which  compels  her  to  subordinate  her 
will  to  that  of  any  number  of  others.  We 
may  as  well  acknowledge  defeat  in  that  direc- 
tion; but  there  are,  if  rumour  be  correct  and 
appearance  not  deceitful,  many  women  who 
find  housekeeping  irksome,  and  who  do  not 
care  to  have  things  as  their  grandmothers 
had  them,  and  who  are  deaf  to  their  husband's 
pleadings  for  'mother's  mince  pies.'     There 


WOIVIAN'S   SPHERE 


103 


arc  women  who  would  wel- 
come any  relief  from  the 
constant  strain  upon  nerve 
and  temper  and  purse  which 
modern  conditions  are  impos- 
ing on  the  city  housekeeper. 
These  women  are  now  seek- 
ing the  comforts  of  'a  home' 
in  boarding-houses,  chang- 
ing them  with  Easter  hats 
and  winter  cloaks.  To  my 
mind  the  worst  evil  of  this 
habit,  after  its  deleterious 
effect  upon  the  health  and 
character  of  the  children,  is 
the  license  it  gives  to  a 
woman  to  grumble  about 
everything  without  lifting 
her  finger  to  improve  any- 
thing. Chronic  complain- 
ing has  come  to  be  a  famil- 
iar spectre  at  gatherings  of 
women." 

This  is  not  a  rosy  picture 
of  co-operative  conditions. 
Of  course,  the  latter  ar- 
rangements are  artificial, 
but  city  life  is  a  poor  thing, 
at  best,  for  small  people, 
who  ought  to  have  some- 
where to  skate  and  run  and 
shout,  instead  of  being  fed 
and  housed  in  a  stuffy  flat 
and  educated  upon  the 
street  with  such  stra} 
crumbs  of  culture  as  the 
ethics  and  art  of  "'Buster 
Brown"  may  provide,  but 
if  one  is  obhged  to  live  in  a  city,  co-op- 
erative housekeeping  seems  to  afford 
one  solution  of  the  difi&cult  problem  of 
"keeping  up  the  table."  It  is  not  likely 
to  become  decidedly  popular,  for  it  is 
against  the  strong  desire  most  women  have 
to  do  things  in  their  own  way.  Two 
women  may  be  excellent  housekeepers,  but 
they  will  differ  in  small  ways  and  tri^•ial 
tastes,  so  that  trying  to  work  together 
is  not  likely  to  be  a  domestic  triumph. 
"Looking  Backward"  and  similar 
novels  were  widely  read  and  discussed 
during  the  last  decade  of  the  Nineteenth 
[  Century.  They  depicted  a  condition  of 
I  affairs  in  which  everything  was  done 
!  by  electricity  and  everyone  was  clean 
\  and  calm.  The  whole  arrangement  was 
'  deadly  and  mechanical,  even  to  the  music 
that  went  by  springs  and  buttons.  "A 
poor  thing,  but  mine  own,"  was  Touch- 

i  8 


■  i 

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"1 

\  ] 

*"'^4^^^H 

1 

'  /■  '\' 

.'.  ""-■■>' 

9 

'■■«    '  '■  A 

^^^^H 

mt 

m 

Biii 

■HJ^ 

EX-EMPRESS  EUGENIE 

stone's  sprightly  reference  to  his  rustic 
wife.  Most  women  would  prefer  the  tiniest 
kitchen  where  the  rulership  was  undisputed 
to  the  dreary  sameness  of  having  and  eating 
meals  in  common.  Give  us  individuality 
and  indigestion  therewith  rather  than  the 
stalled  ox  of  co-operative  housekeeping. 

tr 

THE  EMPRESS  EUGENIE 

ALTHOUGH  the  Hfe  of  a  generation 
has  passed  since  Eugenie,  as  the 
consort  of  the  Emperor  of  the  French, 
held  one  of  the  proudest  positions  in 
Europe,  her  name  still  occasionally  ap- 
pears in  the  jotumals  that  keep  track  of 
forgotten  celebrities.  Her  fondness  for 
Queen  Victoria's  yoimgest  daughter.  Prin- 
cess Henry  of  Battenberg  or  Princess 
Beatrice,  has  been  frequently  manifested; 
and  this  affection  she  has  extended  to  a. 


194 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


SOME    LEADING   STAGE   BEAUTIES 


later  generation  in  the  person  of  tlie 
present  Queen  Victoria  of  Spain.  The 
woman  whose  life  was  once  a  round  of 
the  most  brilliant  gayeties  now  spends 
her  days  in  nun-like  seclusion,  and  is 
said  to  present  a  pathetic  appearance 
with  her  robes  of  heaviest  black  and  her 
face  lined  with  age  and  sorrow.  One 
reason  given  for  her  extreme  fondness 
for  Princess  Beatrice  is  the  attachment 
said  to  have  existed  between  the  late 
Prince  Imperial  and  the  English  prin- 
cess. .  Long  ago,  before  the  son  of  Na- 
poleon III  went  out  to  fight  for  England 
in  Zululand,  it  was  rumoured  that  Queen 
Victoria  would  not  oppose  a  match  unit- 
ing the  exiled  French  royalty  with  her 
own  household.  But  the  young  Prince 
was  to  give  his  life  for  the  country  which 
was  the  great  Napoleon's  premier  foe 
and  for  many  years  the  love  and  joy  of 
her  earlier  life  must  have  seemed  to  the 
lonely  Eueenie    nothing    but  a  shadow. 

rr 

FOOD  FASHIONS 

THE  meat  packing  disclosures  have  re- 
sulted, as  was  prophesied,  in  women 
turning  their  attention  to  home-made 
meat  jellies,  veal  loaf  and  other  luncheon 
dishes  that  are  never  as  good  when  manip- 
ulated by  a  can-opener  as  when  they  are 
turned  out  of  the  familiar  mould.  These 
revelations  regarding  Chicago's  little  way 
of  "using  everything"  have  also  given  the 
rigid  vegetarian  a  chance  to  deer}'  the  diet 
of  his  carnivorous  friend.  It  is  an  inter- 
esting fact  that  never  has  there  been  such 
a  variety  of  vegetable  dishes  as  we  now 


enjoy.  Even  in  these 
days,  however,  there 
are  many  people  who 
are  quite  unac- 
quainted with  more 
than  half  a  dozen  veg- 
etables. Our  grand- 
mothers  thought 
that  the  tomato  was 
deadly  poison,  called 
it  the  "love  apple," 
and  used  it  as  a  ruddy 
ornament  for  the 
mantel.  Unknown  to 
them  was  the  piquant 
salad,  the  delicious 
baked  tomato,  the  comforting  cream  soup 
and  the  scooped-out  receptacle  for  the 
latest  concoctions  with  fruit  and  nuts, 
crowned  with  a  whisk  of  mayonnaise 
dressing.  We  are  glad  that  someone  was 
brave  enough  to  experiment  with  the 
tomato  and  discover  its  virtues. 

But  for  the  very  latest  fashion  in  foods 
we  must  look  to  London.  There  the 
currant  fad  is  at  its  height,  and  there 
are  already  currant  cups  and  dishes 
with  small  silver  currant  forks.  But  the 
fashionable  currant  is  not  at  all  the  small 
black  affair  which  adorned  the  plebeian 
bun  of  our  childhood.  It  comes  in  the 
daintiest  wTappings  from  Zante  and  Corfu, 
or  whatever  classic  islands  are  noted  for 
that  toothsome  product.  Its  virtues  are 
being  extolled  daily  and  its  value  as  a 
complexion  purifier  has  put  cold  cream 
and  skin  food  in  the  background.  A 
hopeful  article  has  appeared,  declaring  that 
the  poet  Shelley  was  in  the  habit  of  dining 
upon  raisins  exclusively,  and  suggesting 
that  a  course  of  currants  may  provide 
poetic  stimulus.  But  such  a  consummation 
is  hardly  to  be  expected.  Mr.  Balfour 
said  in  criticism  of  Mr.  Winston  Churchill : 
"Unfortunately  good  taste  is  not  to  be 
acquired  by  industry."  Likewise,  a  diet 
of  currants  will  hardly  prove  stimulating 
to  the  dull  or  the  uninspired.  But  what- 
ever powers  are  behind  all  the  shifting 
fashions  in  food  must  be  highly  enter- 
tained by  the  seriousness  with  which 
society  takes  up  each  new  doctrine  of  diet 
and  preaches  it  with  earnestness  for  at 
least  a  month. 

Jean  Graham 


ART  AND  THE  PUBLIC 

DURING  the  present  year,  art  ex- 
hibitions in  this  country  have  been 
conspicuous  by  reason  of  their  number 
and  their  excellence.  Those  held  by  the 
Ontario  Society  of  Artists  and  the  Royal 
Academy  were  more  notable  than  their 
predecessors,  yet  almost  futile  because  of 
the  poor  buildings  in  which  they  were 
held  and  because  of  the  lack  of  public 
attendance.  The  artist  associations  have 
placed  themselves  on  a  very  high  pedestal 
so  far  as  their  own  exhibitions  are  con- 
cerned, \vith  the  result  that  they  are  diffi- 
cult to  see.  The  public  are  fairly  busy 
founding  new  families  and  new  fortunes, 
and  they  are  not  inclined  to  gaze  any 
great  length  of  time  at  a  body  of  people 
that  cannot  be  understood  nor  criticised. 
They  go  to  see  the  drama,  but  they  do  so 
under  decidedly  attractive  conditions — 
music,  coloured  lights,  graceful  action, 
cushioned  seats,  and  the  approbation  of 
their  neighbours.  To  go  to  a  deadly  dull 
gathering  of  canvases,  even  though  some 
of  them  be  "speaking''  likenesses,  is  not 
to  be  compared  with  an  evening  in  a 
fashionable  theatre. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  art  displays 
at  the  Winnipeg,  Ottawa,  Halifax  and 
Toronto  fairs,  were  much  more  important, 
simply  because  the  public  saw  the  pic- 
tures. At  Toronto  some  excellent  can- 
vases were  displayed  under  favourable 
conditions  in  a  suitable  gallery.  Some 
of  these  were  Canadian,  some  were  by 
other  British  artists  and  some  were  by 
foreigners.  People  gathered  from  all 
over  the  Province  of  Ontario  to  see  this 
notable  collection  selected  from  the  art 
galleries  of  Great  Britain  and  from  the 
private  collections  of  Lord  Strathcona, 
Sir  George  Drummond  and  Earl  Grey. 
There  is  a  lesson  in  this  for  the  Canadian 
artists,  but  it  is  doubtful  if  they  will  see  it. 

Three  of  the  pictures  exhibited  at  that 

195 


time  are  reproduced  in  this  issue.  The 
two  by  Caton  Woodville  are  not  of  the 
highest  form  of  art,  but  they  are  excellent 
examples  of  paintings  made  primarily  for 
illustrating  and  plate-making.  The  paint- 
ing by  Jules  Briton,  from  which  the  front- 
ispiece in  this  issue  is  made,  is  one  of  the 
most  celebrated  of  modem  canvases. 
The  story  is  told  of  a  keen  contest  for  this 
picture,  some  years  ago,  when  it  was  sold 
at  auction  in  New  York.  The  rival  bid- 
ders were  Lord  Strathcona  and  Mr.  J.  J. 
Hill.  The  value  was  supposed  to  be 
$18,000  and  when  Mr.  Hill's  agent  got  to 
$20,000  he  proposed  to  stop.  Mr.  Hill, 
however,  would  not  stop  there,  and  it  was 
bid  up  to  $45,000.  Then  Lord  Strath- 
cona made  a  bold  bid  of  $50,000  and 
secured  the  prize.  When  he  afterwards 
learned  that  Mr.  Hill  had  desired  to  secure 
it  for  his  wife,  who  is  a  devout  Roman 
Catholic,  Lord  Strathcona  offered  to  pre- 
sent it  to  her.  The  Hills  would  not  hear 
of  this  too  generous  offer  and  so  the  pic- 
ture remains  with  its  purchaser.  For  a 
while  it  was  kept  in  Montreal,  but  recently 
it  has  been  housed  at  Knebworth  Park, 
Lord  Strathcona's  near- London  residence. 


A  BUDDING  BISHOP 

ON  the  second  of  October,  at  a  meet- 
ing of  the  diocesan  sjmod  of  Fred- 
ericton.  Rev.  Canon  Richardson,  rector 
of  Trinity  Church,  St.  John,  was  elected 
coadjutor  Bishop  of  Fredericton.  Canon 
Richardson  was  bom  at  historic  W^arwick, 
England,  in  1868,  and  came  to  Canada  in 
1888,  going  to  the  West.  He  took  his 
arts  course  at  St.  John's  College,  Uni- 
versity of  Manitoba,  graduating  in  1895 
with  first-class  honours  in  mental  and 
moral  science.  He  received  his  M.A.  in 
1898.  In  1897  he  became  rector  of  St. 
Luke's,  Winnipeg,  and  two  years  later 
he  was  appointed  rector  of  Trinity  Church, 
St.  John.     He  is  a  Churchman  of  broad 


19(5 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


REV.    CANON   RICHARDSON 

The  newly-elected  Coadjutor  Bishop  of 
Fredericton 


views,  evangelical  earnestness  and  prac- 
tical common  sense  and  should  find  a 
wide  field  for  his  episcopal  activities  in 
the  Cathedral  City. 

John  A.  Cooper 

U 

THE  STEEL-COAL  CONTROVERSY 

THE  friction  between  the  Dominion 
Iron  and  Steel  Company  and  the 
Dominion  Coal  Company,  which  resulted 
recently  in  open  hostilities,  might  almost 
rightly  be  described  as  a  pitched  battle 
between  two  of  the  largest  industrial  con- 
cerns in  the  Dominion.  There  is,  how- 
ever, a  modifying  influence:  the  fact  that 
some  of  the  directors  of  one  company  are 
directors  also  of  the  other.  But  in  face 
of  that  there  is  much  significance  in  the 
announcement  made  the  other  day  by  Sir 
William  Van  Home  that  he  had  resigned 
from  the  directorate  of  the  Dominion  Coal 
Company  as  a  protest  against  the  action 
of  that  company  in  supplying  to  the  Do- 
minion Iron  and  Steel  Company  what 
was  claimed  to  be  an  inferior  grade  of 
coal  to  what  had  been  previously  supplied. 


To  some  persons  it  might  be  quite  as 
significant  also  that  Sir  William  was  at 
the  time  of  his  resignation  only  a  small 
holder  of  Dominion  Coal  stock,  and  it 
might  reasonably  enough  be  inferred  that 
the  resignation  was  made  in  order  that  a 
greater  interest  in  the  Steel  Company 
might  be  served  without  a  conflicting  in- 
terest in  the  Coal  Company.  At  the 
same  time,  while  there  may  be  some 
reason  in  that,  it  should  be  borne  in  mind 
that  Sir  William  Van  Home  is  not  a  man 
to  be  lightly  moved,  nor  is  a  matter  like 
a  few  shares  of  stock  in  an  industrial 
enterprise  at  all  likely  to  induce  him  to 
sacrifice  the  principle  involved. 

One  would  naturally  suppose,  in  view 
of  preceding  facts,  that  this  dispute  has 
involved  a  good  deal  of  personal  feeling. 
Mr.  James  Ross,  the  President  of  the 
Dominion  Coal  Company,  has  not  been 
kindly  disposed  towards  the  Steel  Com- 
pany ever  since  the  two  companies  were 
separated  about  two  years  ago.  The 
Steel  Company  had  leased  the  Coal  Com- 
pany's properties  for  a  term  of  years,  but 
Mr.  Ross  had  wished  to  cancel  the  lease 
in  order  to  develop  the  coal  properties  as 
a  separate  industry,  untrammelled  by  the 
weaknesses  of  the  Steel  Company.  About 
this  time  Mr.  J.  H.  Plummer,  late  of  the 
Canadian  Bank  of  Commerce,  was  in- 
duced as  an  expert  financier  to  guard  the 
interests  of  the  steel  companies  in  the 
negotiations  that  were  about  to  begin, 
with  a  breaking  of  the  lease  in  view. 
Seldom  in  Canada  has  a  keener  contest 
taken  place  between  big  men  of  affairs 
than  took  place  then  over  the  separation 
of  these  two  chief  mainstays  of  prosperity 
in  Cape  Breton.  Mr.  Ross  did  then  al- 
most precisely  the  same  thing  that  Sir 
William  Van  Home  did  a  few  days  ago. 
He  was  President  of  both  companies,  but 
his  chief  interest  was  in  coal,  and  he  there- 
fore abandoned  steel.  He  would  have 
Uked  to  break  the  lease  without  any  bind- 
ing agreement  as  to  the  future  supply  of 
coal  to  the  Steel  Company.  But  Mr. 
Plummer,  who  was  closely  in  touch  with 
Mr.  Frederick  NichoUs  throughout  the 
negotiations,  held  out  for  months,  and 
finally  secured  for  the  Steel  Company 
what  at  the  time  was  considered  to  be  an 
almost  perpetual  supply  of  coal  for  smelt- 


PEOPLE    AND    AFFAIRS 


197 


ing  purposes  at  a  very  low 
price.  The  agreement  was  to 
last  for  999  years,  and  the 
coal  was  to  be  run  of  mine, 
suitable  for  use  in  smelting, 
and  was  to  cost  $1.24  a  ton, 
but  subject  to  an  advance 
every  five  years  in  proportion 
to  the  advance,  if  any,  in  the 
cost  of  labour.  Lately,  how- 
ever, the  Steel  Company  com 
plained  that  the  coal  then  be- 
ing deUvered  was  inferior  to 
the  usual  supply,  and  on  that 
claim  they  absolutely  refused 
to  accept  any  more.  As  the 
President  of  the  Coal  Com- 
pany, Mr.  Ross  ofifered  to  risk 
$50,000  on  the  question  of 
whether  the  coal  was  of  the 
grade  defined  in  the  agreement 
or  not,  accepting  the  decision 
of  a  committee  of  coal  experts 
as  final,  the  issue  assumed 
an  interesting  stage.  Unless 
those  who  are  directors  of 
both  companies  can  bring 
about  a  reconcihation,  the 
dispute  threatens  to  be  un- 
fortunately acute,  and  to  result 
in  a  period  of  negotiation, 
if  not  litigation,  causing  much 
lonrest,  not  only  in  Cape 
Breton,  but  in  many  other  parts  of  the 
Dominion. 

STUDENT  ROWDYISM 

AUTHORITIES  of  McGill  University, 
Montreal,  have  decided  to  hold  a 
number  of  students  responsible  for  in- 
excusable conduct  on  what  is  known 
as  "Theatre  Xight."  When  this  natur- 
ally fascinating  custom  was  observed  re- 
cently, bodies  of  students  marched  through 
the  streets,  before  and  after  the  perform- 
ance at  the  theatre,  and  not  only  did  they 
indulge  in  what  might  be  described  as 
highly  boisterous,  yet  generally  harmless 
demonstrations,  but  they  actually  found 
cause  for  merriment  in  wantonly  destroy- 
ing property.  That  is  why  students  often 
fall  into  disrepute.  And  that  is  a  regret- 
table fact,  because  if  any  body  of  young 


RT.    HOX.    SIR   HEXRV   MORTIMER   DUR.-VXD,  G.C.M.G.,  P.O. 

Who  has  resigned  the  post  of  British  Ambassador 
to  the  United  Sta'tes 


men  should  be  looked  to  for  assurances 
of  general  culture,  good-breeding  and  re- 
finement, it  is  the  young  men  who  go  up 
to  our  seats  of  learning.  Following  the 
outburst  of  rowd}-ism  by  McGill  stu- 
dents, Principal  Peterson  took  the  first 
opportunity  to  express  his  extreme  dis- 
approval of  this  reckless  conduct  and  to 
annomice  that  thereafter  "Theatre  Night " 
would  have  no  official  recognition.  WTiile 
"Theatre  Xight"  is  now,  as  it  were, 
under  the  ban  of  the  faculties  of  McGill 
University,  that  fact  will  scarcely  strike 
terror  to  the  heart  of  the  average  student, 
and  to  those  whose  tendencies  are  to- 
wards rowdyism  the  absence  of  the 
professors  from  the  boxes  will  likely 
merely  serve  to  cause  a  further  loosening 
of  the  cord.  Official  recognition  would 
almost  always  be  acceptable,  but  official 
presence   would   be   readily   excused.     It 


198 


THE   CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


should  not  be  misunderstood  that  these 
observations  apply  solely  to  Ale  Gill  Uni- 
versity, because  there  are  other  halls  of 
learning  in  Canada  where  student  rowdy- 
ism is  not  unknown. 

In  considering  this  subject  seriously,  and 
it  is  really  a  very  serious  subject,  one  natur- 
ally wonders  whether  student  life  at  Cana- 
dian universities  will  follow  the  example 
set  at  some  American  universities,  and  go 
on  to  downright  brutaUty  and  ruffianism, 
or  whether  it  will  mellow  out  into  the 
more  sedate  and  becoming  characteristics 
of  the  universities  of  Great  Britain.  Close 
proximity  to  the  United  States  is  against 
us,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  our  professors 
and  lecturers  are  drawn  largely  from 
those  whose  training  has  been  received  at 
the  older  universities,  and  they  undoubt- 
edly have  had  and  should  still  have  a 
tempering  influence.  It  would  be  an  un- 
fortunate thing  indeed  were  the  ones  who 
are  largely  responsible  for  the  manners 
of  university  students  to  neglect  an  op- 
portunity to  check  unbecoming  tendencies. 
Principal  Peterson  took  a  stand  against 
rowdyism  at  the  peril  of  his  own  personal 
popularity,  but  it  is  only  by  such  action 
that  the  good  name  and  integrity  of  our 
universities  can  be  safeguarded. 

But  there  is,  after  all,  a  word  for  the 
student.  The  young  man  who  comes  to 
the  city  fresh  from  the  farm  or  the  coun- 
trv  village  and  finds  himself  in  a  class 
apart  from  other  people  naturally  and 
imperceptibly  feels  that  the  rules  that 
govern  the  ordinarv  members  of  societv 
do  not  apply  to  him.  He  cannot  help 
wishing  to  shout  when  the  lecture  is  over, 
or  to  pound  the  desk  with  his  note-book 
before  it  begins.  Nor  can  he  prevent 
himself  from  being  described  as  an  un- 
tethered  steed  which,  finding  itself  loose 
from  the  ties  that  have  hitherto  bound  it, 
dashes  recklessly  forth  and  causes  dam- 
age, not  only  to  itself,  but  to  almost 
everything  with  which  it  comes  into  con- 
tact. It  is  not  altogether  the  animal's 
fault,  nor  is  it  altogether  the  student's 
fault.  Neither  intelligently  realises  the 
situation.  A  horse  that  is  docile  and 
obedient  will  sometimes  become  fractious 
under  strange  hands.  A  young  man  who 
carries  himself  becomingly  under  parental 
or  communal  restraint,  oftentimes  defies 


the  law  or  the  canons  of  respectability 
when  he  passes  out  into  new  fields.  And 
when  we  get  together  a  large  number  of 
3'oung  men  undergoing  the  same  transition, 
it  should  astonish  no  one  if  enough  of 
them  should  combine  and  encourage  their 
waywardness  until  the  whole  company 
has  been  disgraced.  Still,  it  is  a  poor 
sample  of  humanity  that  cannot  sympa- 
thise to  some  extent  with  the  student,  and 
it  must  be  admitted  that  in  a  new  country 
like  Canada,  or  extn  like  the  United 
States,  many  of  the  students,  and  fre- 
quently the  best  students,  come  up  from 
an  environment  where  there  is  necessarily 
a  limited  opportunity  to  practise  the 
graces  and  refinements  that  usually  come 
in  after  years.  Increasing  university 
"residence,"  and  a  broader  consideration 
of  the  advantages  of  club  life  and  mutual 
intercourse,  are  among  the  things  that  are 
likely  to  give  the  student  a  better  under- 
standing of  his  place  in  the  community. 

U 
A  UNIQUE  EXPERIENCE 

1^0  have  served  under  every  Prime 
Minister  of  Canada  since  Confedera- 
tion, and  under  every  Minister  of  Finance, 
save  one,  is  a  remarkable  record,  and 
vet  that  distinction  can  be  claimed  for 
Mr.  J.  M.  Courtney,  C.M.G.,  who  re- 
cently resigned  the  post  of  Deputy 
Minister  of  Finance.  Air.  Courtney  ob- 
served that  fact  himself,  in  addressing  the 
Canadian  Club  at  Toronto,  and  as  a 
little  sidelight  on  this  unique  experience 
he  called  attention  to  the  fact  that  in 
1869,  when  he  entered  the  public  service 
of  Canada,  the  entire  revenue  of  the 
Dominion  was  but  thirty  million  dollars, 
while  last  year  it  was  more  than  eighty 
millions.  It  is  interesting  to'  note  in  this 
connection  that  while  the  population  of 
the  country  has  not  quite  doubled  since 
the  time  of  Confederation,  the  total 
annual  revenue  has  been  multiplied  by 
six.  But  there  was  something  of  even 
more  significance  in  Mr.  Courtney's  ad- 
dress, his  avowal  that  while  the  public 
service  of  Canada  is  efficient,  comparing 
well  with  any  other  public  service  in  the 
world,  it  is  miserably  underpaid. 

Newton  MacTavish 


A  BOOK  OF  CONJURY 

''rHERK  is  only  one  thing  certain 
*■  about  Mr.  Kipling — that  he  will 
write  the  unexpected.  Just  as  the  critics 
are  deploring  his  prosaic  motor  verse  and 
his  political  lyrics,  a  volume  is  produced, 
so  full  of  the  "careless  rapture"  of  child- 
hood and  fairy  lore,  that  hostile  voices 
are  silent,  and  there  is  nothing  to  do  but 
listen  with  Dan  and  Una  to  the  stories 
told  by  "Puck  of  Pook's  HiU."*  In  one 
of  his  later  volumes  of  verse,  Mr.  Kipling 
writes  lovingly  of  his  new  Enghsh  home 
in  "Sussex  by  the  sea,"  and  it  is  the  very 
spirit  of  ancient  Sussex  that  takes  us  back 
to  the  days  of  "A  Centurion  of  the  Thir- 
tieth," and  makes  us  breathless  eaves- 
droppers as  the  "Old  Men  at  Pevensey" 
tell  of  the  dangers  they  .have  passed. 
There  is  a  history  of  England  in  these  ten 
magic  chapters,  only  the  author  did  not 
intend  to  write  anything  so  dull  as  a  mere 
history  when  he  set  out  on 

"  .    .    .    .   the  dimpled  track  that  runs 
All  hollow  through  the  wheat." 

"Puck  of  Pook's  HiU"  has  been  called 
a  book  for  children;  but,  like  "Alice  in 
Wonderland,"  it  is  for  all  those  readers 
who  have  the  luck  to  remain  boys  and 
girls,  so  far  as  the  enjoyment  of  a  real 
story  goes.  We  have  not  forgotten  the  "joy 
of  life  unquestioned"  in  the  wanderings 
of  "Kim,"  or  the  multifarious  wayfarers 
that  thronged  the  Great  Trunk  Road 
of  India.  Mr.  Kipling  knows  the  way 
to  the  heart  of  youth,  and  this  time  he  has 
allowed  a  small  sister  to  accompany  the 
boy  who  strays  into  the  domains  of  the 
"People  of  the  Hill."  In  the  dreary 
wastes  of  popular  fiction,  this  is  a  place 
of  enchantment,  where  the  flowers  are 
always  fragrant  and  the  river  murmurs 
just  enough  to  let  us  know  that  it  is  on  the 
way  to  the  great  restless  ocean.     Stupid 

♦Toronto :  The  Macmillan  Company  of  Ca- 
nada, Limited. 

199 


children,  surfeited  by  the  vulgarities,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  inartistic  atrocities  of 
the  "comic"  supplement,  may  fail  to  be 
captivated  by  "The  Knights  of  the 
Joyous  Venture,"  but  to  them  of  unspoiled 
imagination,  these  tales  of  gentlemen  un- 
afraid ought  to  be  rare  reading. 

There  are  bits  of  verse,  slipped  between 
the  stories,  that  are  as  daintily  fanciful  as 
any  of  the  author's  earlier  lines.  There 
are  three  leaves  that  bring  the  children 
back  to  the  ever)''day  world — leaves  of 
oak  and  ash  and  thorn : 

"Sing  Oak,  and  Ash,  and  Thorn,  good  Sirs, 

(All  of  a  Midsummer  morn) ! 
England  shall  bide  till  Judgment  Tide, 

By  Oak,  and  Ash,  and  Thorn!" 

In  "The  Children's  Song,"  which  con- 
cludes the  volume,  we  have  the  poet  of  the 
"Recessional"  and  "Envoi  to  Life's 
Handicap": 

"Teach  us  the  Strength  that  cannot  seek. 
By  deed  or  thought,  to  hurt  the  weak; 
That  under  Thee,  we  may  possess 
Man's  strength  to  comfort  man's  distress." 

"  Puck  of  Pook's  Hill "  is  the  work  of  an 
artist,  of  a  man  who  has  \^Titten  for  the 
joy  of  the  writing.  He  has  kept  the  prom- 
ise made  to  us  by  Puck: 

' '  She  is  not  any  common  Earth, 

Water  or  wood  or  air, 
But  Merlin's  Isle  of  Gramarye, 

Where  you  and  I  will  fare." 

^lay  it  be  long  ere  he  betakes  himself 
to  that  "separate  star"  where  he  wiU 
"never  be  tired  at  all." 


GASOLINE  FICTION 

THE  motor  car  has  vmdoubtedly  come, 
as  the  Americans  phrase  it,  "to 
stav."  But.  whatever  may  be  public 
sentiment  towards  the  latest  thing  in  loco- 
motion, the  automobile  novel  is  becoming 
a  weariness  to  the  reader  of  magazines 
and  popular  fiction.  There  is  such  a 
deadlv  monotony  about  the  whole  range 


200 


THE    CANADL\N    :MAGAZINE 


FREDERICK  GEORGE  SCOTT 
Author  of  "A  Hymn  of  Empire" 

of  gasoline  stories.  The  chauffeur  is 
usually  an  English  duke  or  a  French 
marquis  (an  Italian  count  is  rather  below 
the  notice  of  the  up-to-date  novehst),  who 
is  wonderfully  and  fearfully  in  love  with 
the  incomparable  American  heroine,  who 
has  a  l)eauty  which  shines  even  through  a 
motor  veil  and  a  wit  which  sheds  sparkling 
epigrams,  though  the  motor  car  may  be 
whirling  along  at  fifty-something  miles  an 
hour.  The  Canadian  writer  is,  as  yet, 
comparatively  unversed  in  the  moods  of 
the  machine  with  a  wild-goose  note.  The 
plebeian  ways  of  the  bicycle  and  the  buggy 
are  more  familiar  to  the  native  teller  of 
tales.  But  as  large  fortunes  are  made  in 
Cobalt  and  Addington,  even  the  writer  of 
ephemeral  fiction  may  add  unto  his  posses- 
sions an  automobile  and  the  Canadian 
writer  will  no  longer  be  forced  to  go  to 
northern  woods  and  western  streams 
in  order  to  get  local  colour  and  odour. 

AMERICAN  BARDS  AND  AN  ENGLISH 
REVIEWER 

A  LONDON  critic,  dealing  with  two 
recent  anthologies  of  American 
poetry,  is  somewhat  concerned  to  find  it 
both  timid  and  mournful,  with  a  message 
of    "the    trivialitv  of  mundane  things." 


He  is  disappointed  at  not  finding  a  high 
spirit  of  youth  and  adventure.  But  may 
not  the  English  critic  be  mistaken  in 
attributing  merriment  to  youth?  There 
is  a  certain  kind  of  twilight  melancholy 
which  appeals  strongly  to  young  persons 
and  in  which  the  juvenile  bard  frequently 
indulges.  We  have  the  high  authority  of 
Robert  Louis  Stevenson  for  the  dictum 
that  the  Jubilate  Deo  belongs  rather  to 
age  than  to  youth.  No  greybeard  can  be 
so  utterly  in  despair  as  the  youthful  hero 
of  ''Locksley  Hall."  The  French  writer 
was  quite  within  the  truth  when  he  re- 
ferred to  those  delightful  days  when  we 
were  so  miserable. 

The  English  critic  accounts  for  some  of 
the  unpleasant  waiUng  in  .\merican  verse 
by  the  ''Calvinism"  inherent  in  the  Anaeri- 
can  temperament.  John  Calvin  has  been 
blamed  for  a  great  many  speeches  and 
principles  that  he  would  have  blushed  to 
own;  but  to  make  the  great  theologian 
responsible  for  the  maudlin  despondency 
of  much  of  our  modem  poetry  is  to  per- 
petrate a  great  injustice.  Blame  it  on 
our  politics,  our  diet  or  our  climate,  but 
not  on  our  theology.  In  fact,  the  Enghsh 
critic  at  this  point  shows  that  lack  of 
accurate  information  on  matters  trans- 
Atlantic  which  occasionally  pains  us  in 
the  criticisms,  geographical  and  otherwise, 
made  in  the  columns  of  the  British  peri- 
odical. The  observer  of  the  modem 
Americans  who  can  go  back  to  Europe 
and  declare  that  'Cahinism"  is  charac- 
teristic of  their  temperament  must  have 
viewed  New  York  and  San  Francisco 
through  smoked  glasses. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  the  Southern 
poets,  Lanier  and  Poe,  have  been  more 
sympathetically  studied  in  England  and 
even  in  France  than  in  their  owtq  coimtrj'. 
The  Times  critic  says  of  the  former: 

"He  was  the  most  considerable  of  all  the 
poets  who  came  after  the  war.  .  .  He  re- 
mains the  most  fearless  and  passionate,  the 
widest  in  range,  the  greatest  master  of 
melody  of  any  of  the  American  poets." 

Bliss  Carman  is  regarded  with  more 
favour  than  most  of  his  brother  bards: 

"The  poet  of  the  immortal  'Eavesdrop- 
per' has  too  often  written  nonsense.  But 
with  all  his  lamentable  extravagances,  weak- 
nesses  and   lapses   from   true   taste,   he   has 


ABOUT   NEW   BOOKS 


201 


that  jquality  of  which  we  have 
noted  the  lack  in  most  of  liis 
predecessors,  a  youthful  gaiety 
and  bravery,  due,  perhaps,  to 
his  iJanadian  birth.  It  seems, 
indeed,  as  if  he  might  be 
showing  to  his  adopted  country 
the  way  to  express  in  poetry 
that  enterprise,  that  adventurer- 
spirit,  which  has  hitherto  been 
reserved  for  its  affairs. 

"At  least,  he  is  never  senti- 
mental, never  afraid  of  passion, 
any 'more  than  he  is  afraid  of 
showing  the  learning  and  the 
mastery  of  his  art  that  he  too 
often  Jmisuses." 

rr 

A  POET'S  BIRTHPLACE 

OX  the  north  shore  of  Lake 
Erie  is  found  the  village 
of  Morpeth,  which  is  a  pic- 
turesque spot  in  summer  with  its  spread- 
ing shade  trees,  its  old  homesteads  and 
wharf,  where  juvenile  fishermen  may 
usually  be  seen.  From  Morpeth  to  Rond 
Eau  is  a  pleasant  drive  on  a  summer 
afternoon  with  the  sparkling  lake  to  the 
left  and  the  vineyards  of  Kent  to  the 
right.  In  this  quaint  village  of  one  of 
Ontario's  most  fertile  counties  the  poet, 
Archibald  Lampman,  was  bom.  He 
has  been  called  the  gentlest  of  our  poets, 
and  his  temperament  and  work  deserve  the 
epithet.  The  house  in  which  he  was  bom 
is,  as  may  be  seen,  the  plain,  old-fashioned 
frame  structure,  famihar  in  small  towns  of 
this  continent.  It  was  then  the  Church  of 
England  parsonage.  There  were  old  trees 
near  it,  and  we  hope  there  was  a 
garden.  The  lake,  so  sudden  in  storms, 
and  so  beguiling  in  calm,  was  not  far 
away.  Thus,  however  brief  may  ha\e 
been  the  poet's  experience  of  quaint  old 
Morpeth,  its  memories  may  have  lived 
in  his  Hues.  The  house  remained  stand- 
ing until  a  few  years  ago,  when  it  was  torn 
down  to  give  place  to  a  more  modern,  up- 
to-date  structure.  It  is  matter  for  regret 
that  some  steps  are  not  taken  to  preserve 
places  like  this — connected  in  sentiment 
at  least  with  the  beginnings  of  our  Cana- 
dian literature.  In  the  broken-down  vil- 
lage of  Morpeth  there  are  scores  of  build- 
ing lots  that  might  have  been  secured  for  a 
new  parsonage  site  almost  for  the  asking, 
without  interfering  with  a  building  which 
should  now  be  the  property  of  the  nation. 


WHERE    LAMPM.W   W.\S    BORX 


VIA  BOREAUS 


BOUND  in  a  forest-green  cover,  with 
a  woodland  vista,  comes  a  booklet 
of  twenty-one  pages.  And  of  each  of 
these  pages  it  may  be  written:  "This  is 
poetry."  Mr.  Duncan  Campbell  Scott 
has  followed  the  northern  trail  and  verily 
it  has  led  to  a  land  of  surprising  treasure, 
from  which  he  returns  with  such  songs  as 
seldom  fall  from  modem  lips.  Here  are 
seven  magic  poems,  rich  and  full  and  sweet 
as  the  notes  of  the  April  thrush.  From 
"Spring  on  Mattagami"  to  the  eight  Hues 
of  "Ecstasy,"  which  form  the  closing 
chords,  there  is  a  strain  of  deep  earth- 
gladness  which  reveals  and  stirs  the  best 
in  humanity.  The  exquisite  association 
of  the  earth's  new  life,  with  the  purest 
passion  of  manhood,  thrills  into  sheer 
poetic  rapture  in  the  lines: 

"  What  I  dream  is  mine,  mine  beyond 
all  cavil, 
Pure  and  fair  and  sweet,  and  mine 
for  evermore." 

Even  through  the  sombreness  of  "Night 
Burial  in  the  Forest"  gleams  the  final 
triumph  of  "The  Angel  who  gathers  the 
souls  from  the  wastes  of  the  world.'' 

The  charm  of  these  poems  comes  largely 
from  the  contact  of  a  delicate,  discerning 
nature  with  the  strength  of  primitive 
things.  "Afar  from  the  fret,  the  toil  and 
the  din "  the  poet  has  dreamed,  and 
wrought  his  fancies  into  forms  of  art  so 
rare  that  we  almost  think  them  effortless. 
"The  gold-moted  wood-pools"  is  a  phrase 


202 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


*^^hf^.^.. 


"Now  Good-bye,  and  Go  On" 
From  'Benita  •  by  Rider  Haggard.     Courtesy  of  the  Copp,  Clark  Co. 


to  delight  your  true  forester  and  to  bring 
a  throb  of  boyhood  memory'  to  the  heart 
of  the  city  toiler. 

In  feeling,  rhythm  and  colour,  "Via 
Borealis  "*  represents  the  best  work  of  the 
poet  whose  art  has  never  been  "without 
the  vision."     In  fact,  no  former  produc-      described    as    a    popular    handbook    on 


are  as  airy  and  fan- 
tastic as  the  winds 
and  the  shadows 
that  sweep  and 
haunt  the  forest 
ways.  He  has  the 
rare  good  sense  to 
know  when  to  sug- 
gest, rather  than  to 
depict,  and  pays  the 
reader  the  nice  com- 
pliment of  crediting 
him  with  taste 
and  imagination. 
Altogether,  "Via 
Boreahs"  takes  us 
along  a  path  where 
we 

"Feel  the  gipsy  airs 
that  gather  up  and 
tangle 
The  woodsy  odours  in 
a  maze  of  myrrh 
and  musk." 

tr 

NOTES 

"Inventors    at 
Work,"   by  George 
lies,    author    of 
''Flame,  Electricity 
and   the    Camera," 
is    the  work    of    a 
writer   well    known 
in    Montreal,    now 
living  in  New  York. 
The     recent    tech- 
nical improvements 
in    the    building  of 
bridges,  ships,  tools, 
telephones,     electrical     machinery,     gas 
engines    and    other     modem     mechani- 
cal  inventions   are   admirably   described 
and    explained.     The    volume    is    large, 
comprehensive,   well-conceived   and   pro- 
fusely   illustrated.     It    might    justly    be 


tion  of  Mr.  Scott's  ranks  in  depth  and 
tenderness  with  "Spring  on  Mattagami," 
which  for  some  subtle  reason  associates 
itself  with  Mr.  Maurice  Hewlett's  "The 
Forest  Lovers." 

The  illustrations  hx  Mr.  A.  H.  Howard 


*"Via  Borealis,"  by  Duncan  Campbell 
Scott,  with  decorations  by  A.  H.  Howard, 
R.C.A.     Toronto:  Wm.  Tvrrell  &  Co.    50c. 


mechanics.       (New     York:     Doubleday, 
Page    &  Co.     Cloth,  503  pp.). 

"Set  in  Authority,"  by  Mrs.  Everard 
Cotes  (Sara  Jeannette  Dimcan),  is  a 
novel  of  Indian  life  dealing  with  the 
trials  of  an  idealistic  Viceroy  whose 
views  regarding  the  natives  are  opposed 
to  the  ideas  of  all  other  Europeans  in 
the  state.     The  book  is  characterised  by 


ABOUT   NEW   BOOKS 


203 


the  subtle  humour,  the  quiet  fashion  of 
exposing  "hfe's  little  ironies,"  which 
make  Mrs.  Cotes'  fiction  a  source  of 
genuine  and  gentle  enjoyment.  (To- 
ronto:  William   Tyrrell  and  Co.) 

"The  Flock,"  by  Mary  Austin,  is 
beautiful  in  illustration  and  design.  It 
deals  with  sheep-herding  in  the  Western 
States,  and  may  justly  be  described  as 
an  idyll  of  the  shepherd's  Hfe  and  work. 
It  is  a  story,  but  is  not  fiction.  The 
"get-up"  is  like  that  one  of  Thompson 
Seton's  animal  books.  (Boston:  Hough- 
ton, Mifiin    &  Co.     Cloth,  $2.00). 

"Quiet  Talks  About  Service  "  is  the 
third  book  in  a  series  by  Dr.  S.  D.  Gor- 
don, dealing  with  the  elements  of  the 
Christian  hfe.  Its  earnestness  of  spirit 
and  purity  of  literary  expression  make 
it  a  suitable  companion  to  "Quiet  Talks 
on  Prayer"  and  "Quiet  Talks  on  Power." 
(Toronto:  The  Fleming  H.  Revell  Co.) 

The  Art  books  of  the  year  are  limited, 
but  "The  Old  Testament  in  Art,"  edited 
by  W.  Shaw  Sparrow  and  published  by 
a  reliable  English  firm,  is  worth  mention- 
ing. The  selections  are  representative  and 
the  m.echanical  work  is  creditably  done. 
(Toronto:  The  Copp,  Clark  Co.  Cloth, 
$2.50.) 

"Drawings  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci"  be- 
longs to  a  series  of  drawings  by  the  great 
masters,  published  by  George  Newnes, 
Limited,  of  London,  England.  The  pres- 
ent volume  contains  forty-eight  plates, 
which  amply  show  that  "Leonardo  da 
Vinci  found  in  drawing  the  readiest  and 
most  stimulating  way  of  self-expression." 
Among  the  reproductions  those  which  are 
studies  for  "The  Last  Supper"  will  have 
the  greatest  artistic  interest.  But  the 
"caricatures"  are  of  unique  value  in  dis- 
playing the  versatiHty  of  "that  continent 
called  Leonardo." 

"The  Woman  Thou  Gavest,"  by  Lady 
Troubridge,  is  a  stor}^  of  cheap  melo- 
drama, in  which  a  fair  creature  \vith 
purple-black  hair  plays  the  part  of 
persecuted  heroine,  and  a  most  un- 
pleasant "misunderstood"  wife  makes 
a  villain  of  exceeding  depravity.  (Lon- 
don: T.  Fisher  Unwin). 

Of  all  the  women  who  write  advice 
for  girls,  Margaret  E.  Sangster  is  easily 
the  foremost.     She  leads  both  in  quan- 


tity and  in  quality.  "Fairest  Girlhood," 
her  latest  volume,  deals  with  various 
topics — a  liberal  education,  an  even 
mind,  right  and  wrong  in  recreation, 
conversation,  our  restless  girls,  and  so  on. 
The  book  is  daintily  printed  in  brown 
ink,  with  charming  ornament  and  illus- 
tration, and  a  dainty  cream-yellow  cover 
with  gilt  lettering.  (New  York  and 
Toronto:  The  Fleming  H.  Revell  Co.) 

Hunting  big  game  in  the  Rockies  with 
camera  and  rifle  is  an  alluring  sport. 
For  those  of  us  who  must  stay  at  home, 
William  T-  Homaday,  director  of  the 
Xew  York  Zoological  Park,  has  written 
an  admirable  account  of  some  of  his 
recent  "Camp  Fires  in  the  Canadian 
Rockies,"  illustrated  with  some  mag- 
nificent photographs  taken  by  John  M. 
Phillips,  Pennsylvania  Game  Commis- 
sioner. It  is  a  book  to  thrill  the  ama- 
teur sportsman,  dehght  the  lover  of  ad- 
venture, and  add  to  the  sum  of  knowl- 
edge possessed  by  the  student  of  Cana- 
dian natural  history.  It  is  well  printed, 
handsomely  bound,  and  altogether  an 
admirable  and  desirable  volume.  (New 
York:  Charles  Scribner's  Sons.  Cloth, 
$3.00). 

The  Van  Dyke  "Friendly  Year"  will 
attract  any  person  looking  for  daily 
readings.  The  quotations  are  not  too 
short,  and  Dr.  Van  Dyke's  wisdom  and 
style  are  away  above  the  average. 
(Toronto:  The  Copp,  Clark  Co.  Cloth, 
$1.25). 

"  Frank  Brown,"  the  Sea  Apprentice, 
by  Frank  T.  BuUen,  is  a  splendid  story 
for  vouths.  (Toronto:  The  Copp,  Clark 
Co.) 

"Nelson,  the  Adventurer,"  by  Nora 
Archibald  Smith,  is  a  story  for  boys.  It 
is  breezy  because  it  is  told  in  the  first 
person  singular,  and  because  it  deals 
more  or  less  with  Nelson  and  the  sea. 
(Boston:  Houghton,  Miflin  &  Co.,  Cloth, 
ii.oo). 

"In  the  Van,"  by  Price-Brown,  is  a 
reprint  in  book  form  of  a  stor}-  pub- 
lished in  The  Canadian  Magazine  as 
"The  Builders,"  by  Eric  Bohn.  It  de- 
scribes some  incidents  in  connection 
with  the  War  of  1812-13-14.  The  illus- 
trations are  by  F.  H.  Brigden.  (To- 
ronto: McLeod&  Allen.     Cloth,  $1.25). 


IDLE      MOMENTS 


THE  FAULTFINDERS 

'T'HREE  men  took  joy  in  finding  fault, 

And  thus  it  came  to  pass 
The  gods  upon  each  one  of  them 
Bestowed  a  piece  of  glass. 

The  fool  contrived  of  his  a  lens 

Wherein  to  gloating  eyes 
The  smallest  blot  that  could  be  found 

Was  magnified  in  size. 

The  just  man  made  of  his  a  pane 

All  clear  without  a  flaw, 
Nor  summer  sun  nor  winter  rain 

Affected  what  he  saw. 

The  wise  man  pondered  long  and  well 

How  best  the  search  to  aid, 
Then  taking  up  the  crystal  gift 

Of  his  a  mirror  made. — New  York  Sun. 

REMARKABLE  RENTALS 

STRAXGE  rents  were  being  discussed 
— how  this  church  paid  one  red  rose 
annually  and  that  convent  paid  two 
doves.     A  real  estate  man  said: 

"We  have  some  remarkable  rentals, 
but  England  beats  us  here,  for  she  is  the 
older  country,  and  she  delights  in  main- 
taining the  quaint  customs  of  the  past. 

"The  splendid  manor  of  Famham 
Royal  is  held  by  the  service  of  putting 
the  glove  on  the  King's  right  hand  and 
by  supporting  the  arm  that  holds  the 
sceptre  on  Coronation  Day.  There  is 
no  other  pa}Tnent. 

"The  rental  of  the  manor  of  Aylesbinn*' 
is  three  eels  in  winter  and  three  green 
geese  in  summer,  besides  a  litter  of 
204 


straw  for  the  King's  bedchamber  thrice 
a  year  if  he  come  that  way  so  often. 

"The  manor  of  Addington's  rental  is 
a  pair  of  gilt  spurs,  a  pair  of  tongs,  a 
snowball  on  Midsummer  Day,  and  a 
rose  at  Christmas. 

"The  rental  of  the  manor  of  Coper- 
land  is  the  holding  of  the  King's  head, 
if  needful,  as  often  as  he  crosses  the  sea 
between  Dover  and  WTiitsand." — Phila- 
delphia Bulletin. 


THE  WILLIE  BOYS 

{Compiled  for  the  Baltimore  American  by 
Ralph  A  Lyon) 

Yf/ILLIE  to  the  circus  went, 

He  thought  it  was  immense ; 
His  little  heart  went  pitter-pat. 
For  the  excitement  was  in  tents. 

— Harvard  Lampoon. 

Willie  put  his  stocking  on 
Wrong-side  out  and  thought  it  fun, 
Mother  didn't  like  his  whim, 
So  she  turned  the  hose  on  him. 

— Philadelphia  Record. 

Loud  the  baby  screamed,  and  louder; 
Willie  fed  her  insect  powder. 
Scolded,  answered  %vith  a  shrug, 
•"Little  sister  acted  bug." 

— Anonymous. 

She  sits  in  sorrow,  her  refined 

And  still  imwrinkled  face  is  grave, 

Though  Time  to  her  has  been  most  kind- 
Her  Willie  has  begun  to  shave. 

— Chicago  Record-Herald. 

Willie  saw  some  dynamite ; 
Didn't  understand  it  quite; 


IDLE   MOMENTS 


i05 


Poked  it  with  his  little  stick; 
Rained  little  Willie  for  a  week. 

— Anonymous. 

Little  Willie,  in  the  best  of  sashes, 
Fell  in  the  tire  and  was  burned  to  ashes. 
By-and-by  the  room  grew  chilly — 
But  no  one  liked  to  poke  up  Willie. 

— Harry  Graham. 

Willie  ate  a  tablet 

The  family  doctor  gave; 
Now  he's  got  a  big  one 

On  his  little  grave. 

— Anonymous. 

Willie,  on  the  railroad  track, 
Failed  to  hear  the  engine  squeal ; 
Now  the  engine's  coming  back 
Scraping  \Mllie  off  the  wheel. 

— Anonymous. 

With  green  apples  little  Willie 

His  interior  precincts  piled; 
For  the  first  time  since  he  toddled 

Willie's  now  an  angel  child. 

— Baltimore  Am-erican. 


APPRECIATED 

T  ITTLE  Kathleen  was  being  put  to 
^  bed  during  a  heav>'  thunderstorm, 
after  being  assured  by  her  mother  that 
God  would  watch  over  her.  She  seemed 
much  concerned  for  a  time  and  then 
said: 

"Mamma,  does  God  make  all  this 
thunder  and  lightning?" 

"Yes,  dear." 

"And  can  he  see  me  here  in  bed?" 

"Yes,  dear." 

"Not  if  I  cover  up  my  head  like  this?" 

"Yes,  my  child.  God  can  see  you  at 
all  times." 

Her  little  face  looked  serious  for  a 
moment,  and  then  she  said:  "Well, 
mamma,  He  must  be  a  smarter  man 
than  my  papa."  P.  C.  S. 


THE  SEQUEL 

IS  it  true  that  at  one  of  Dr.  Reich's  re- 
cent   lectures    he    exclaimed:     "Take 
awav  woman,  and  what  would  follow?" 


Dick  {looking  at  picture-book):     "I  wonder  what  the  Noahs  did  with  themselvesiall  day 
long  in  the  Ark?" 

Mabel:     "Fished,  I  should  think." 

Bobbie:     "They  didn't  fish  for  long." 

Dick  and  Mabel:     "Why  not?" 

Bobbie:     "Well,  you  see,  there  were  only  two  worms!" — Punch. 


206 


THE    CANADIAN    J^IAGAZINE 


Is  it  also  a  fact  that  a  male  voice  cried 
out:  "We  would"?— rc/Zer. 


"I  DREAMED  I  WAS  A  KING" 

TWO  darkies  lay  sprawled  on  the  Lun- 
eta  on  a  hot  day.  Moses  drew  a 
long  sigh  and  said:  "Heey-a-h-h!  Ah  wish 
Ah  had  a  hund'ed  watermellions." 

Tom's  eyes  Hghted  dimly.  "Hum 
ya-h!  Dat  would  suttenly  be  fine.  An' 
ef  yo'  had  a  hundred  watermellions  would 
yo'  gib  me  fifty?" 

"No,  Ah  wouldn't  gib  yo'  no  fifty 
watermellions." 

"Would  yo'  gib  me  twenty-five?" 

"No,  Ah  wouldn't  gib  vo'  no  twenty- 
five." 

"Seems  ter  me  yous  powahful  stingy, 
Mose.  Wouldn't  yo' — wouldn't  yo'  gib 
me  one?" 

"No,  Ah  wouldn't  gib  yo'  one.     Look 


He:     "Fond  of  bridge?" 

She:     "Awfully!" 

He:  "Do  you  know  I  always  think  there's 
something  wanting  in  people  .  who  don't 
play?" — Punch. 


a  hyah,  niggar,  are  yo'  so  good-fer-nuffin 
lazy  dat  yo'  caihn't  wish  fo'  yo'  own 
watermellions. ' ' — Selected. 

XJ 
THE   LUCKY  RICH 

AjAMMA  ROXTOBURN:  Ethel wiU 
■^'-^  be  five  years  old  in  a  week. 

Papa  Roxtoburn:   True. 

"Of  course,  she  will  have  to  have  her 
own  footman  now,  as  well  as  her  three 
maids." 

"Of  course." 

"And  I've  been  wondering" 

"Well?" 

"If  she  oughtn't  to  have  her  own  social 
secretary  likewise,  what  with  all  the  affairs 
she  will  be  invited  to." — N.Y.  Life. 

GRANDPA'S  TOY 

"VY/HEN  grandpa  was  a  little  boy — 

And  that's  a  far-off  day, 
For  now  grandpa  is  very  old, 
And  never  thinks  of  play — 

Grandpa  lived  in  the  good  old  times 
When  "everything  was  right"; 

They  had  no  carpets  on  the  floors, 
And  they  read  by   candle-light. 

And  his  toy-horse  looks  very  crude, 

Its  tail  is  like  a  broom; 
The  waggon  is  high  and  funny, 

And  has  but  little  room. 

But  grandpa  thinks  it  the  nicest  toy 

That  ever  yet  was  made; 
He  would  not  for  an  automobile 

This  queer  old  waggon  trade. 

I  suppose  when  you  are  grandpas 

You  '11  think  your  toys  were  great 
'Way  back  in  the  days  when  you  were 
young; 
But  you'll  be  out  of  date. 

— St.  Nicholas. 


THE  OLD  LADY  FROM  DOVER 
•yHERE  was  an  old  lady  of  Dover 
Who  baked  a  fine  apple  turnover. 
But  the  cat  came  that  way, 
And  she  watched  with  dismay 
The  overturn  of  her  turnover. 


WOULD  EXTEND  OUR  TIvRRITORY 

DR.  R.  J.  WICKSTEED  recently  de- 
livered an  interesting  address  before 
the  St.  George's  Society,  Ottawa,  on  the 
delimitation  of  the  Canadian  boundaries. 
He  took  the  stand  that  the  time  has  come 
for  the  necessary  and  natural  extension  of 
the  territory  belonging  to  Canada;  the 
delimitation  of  the  boundaries  of  the 
Dominion,  and  the  more  equitable  recti- 
fication, adjustment  and  delimitation  of 
the  several  provinces  and  territories. 

He  recommended  in  effect  as  follows: 

That  Ontario  be  extended  to  Hudson 
Bay  until  it  reaches  the  parallel  of  58 
degrees  north  latitude. 

That  Manitoba  be  extended  within  the 
same  meridians  of  longitude  in  a  northerly 
direction  to  the  parallel  of  latitude  60 
degrees  north;  and  extended  easterly  be- 
tween the  parallels  58  degrees  north  lati- 
tude and  6c  degrees  north  latitude  to 
Hudson  Bay. 

That  Newfoundland  be  invited  to  come 
into  the  confederation. 

That  the  United  States  and  Denmark 
be  amicably  invited  to  cede,  surrender  and 
make  over  all  their  claims  and  titles  to 
Alaska  and  Greenland,  respectively,  to 
Canada. 

That  the  parallel  of  45  degrees  north 
latitude  running  eastward  from  the  county 
of  Compton  in  the  Province  of  Quebec  to 
•Passamaquoddy  Bay  or  the  Bay  of  Fimdy 
in  the  Province  of  New  Brunswick,  be  the 
southern  boundary  of  Canada;  and  that 
the  United  States  be  amicably  invited  to 
cede,  transfer  and  make  over  to  the  gov- 
ernment of  Canada,  with  the  free  consent 
of  the  legislature  of  the  State  of  Maine,  all 
claim  and  title  to  all  the  territory  lying 
and  being  to  the  north  of  the  said  line  of 
45  degrees  of  north  latitude. 

That  New  Brunswick,  Nova  Scotia  and 

207 


Prince  Edward  Island   be   united  under 
one  name  and  provincial  legislature. 

That  Canada  and  Russia  construct  and 
operate  a  line  of  ferry  boats  across  Behring 
Straits,  or  a  tunnel  under  the  straits,  or 
both;  and  also  lines  of  railway  connecting 
the  Trans-Siberian  Railway  and  the  Grand 
Trunk  Pacific  Railway  with  the  ferry  or 
tunnel  across  or  under  the  Behring  Straits; 
thus  connecting  the  continent  of  America 
with  the  continent  of  Asia. 

rr 

PARADES  ELSEWHERE 

ACCORDING  to  a  New  South  Wales 
exchange,  Canada  is  not  the  only 
country  where  certain  popular  parades 
have  attained  dimensions  sufficiently  large 
to  cause  inconvenience  to  persons  who 
wish  to  go  about  the  streets  in  the  or- 
dinary way.  In  Sydney  recently  there 
was  a  celebration  of  the  eight-hours'  day. 
Fifty-three  trades  unions  were  repre- 
sented in  the  procession,  and* a  number 
of  the  societies  presented  spectacular 
and  trade  displays.  Thousands  of  spec- 
tators lined  the  route  taken  by  the  pro- 
cession through  the  city,  and  tram  traffic 
had  to  be  temporarily  suspended. 

rr 

NO  MORE  DEFICITS 

APRO^SIISE  was  made  recently  by 
Hon.  Mr.  Emmerson,  before  the 
Canadian  Club  at  Ottawa,  that  there 
would  be  no  more  deficits  on  the  Inter- 
colonial Railway.  He  observed  that  the 
surplus  for  this  year  would  be  larger 
than  that  of  last  year,  and  it  would  con- 
tinue to  grow.  The  Intercolonial  was 
Canada's  greatest  national  asset,  and  as 
a  consequence  of  its  construction  and 
operation,  the  Canadian  Provinces  had 
been  welded  into  one  harmonious  whole. 
Had  past  deficits  been  ten  times  as  great, 
still  the  road,  from  a  patriotic  and  sen- 


208 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


timental  standpoint,,  would  have  been  a 
good  investment  for  the  Canadian  peo- 
ple. While  predicting  surpluses  in  the 
future,  Mr.  Emmerson  vehemently  com- 
batted  the  idea  that  the  Intercolonial 
should  ever  be  expected  to  be  a  great 
revenue-producer.  The  profits  should 
go  towards  its  improvement.  Eighty 
million  dollars  had  been  spent  on  the 
railway  for  the  development  of  trade  in 
the  same  manner  that  one  hundred  mil- 
lions had  been  spent  on  the  canal  sys- 
tems, one  hundred  and  seventy-five  mil- 
lions on  railway  subsidies,  and  twelve 
millions  on  steamship  subsidies. 

THE  NEW  TARIFF 

IT  is  easy  to  be  a  Free  Trader  in  Xova 
Scotia,  but  it  is  difficult  to  remain 
one  in  Ottawa.  If  Canada  will  continue 
to  bind  us  by  tariff  walls  so  as  to  prevent 
us  from  winning  ocean  trade  with  other 
lands;  if  Ottawa  will  go  on  making  all 
its  transportation  and  immigration  plans 
for  the  West  to  the  neglect  of  Xova  Sco- 
tia, where  are  we  to  come  in  ?  Just  now 
our  people  are  preparing  to  ask  for  a 
piece  of  pie  by  way  of  a  shipbuilding 
bonus,  but  you  can  see  by  the  backward- 
ness in  asking,  and  the  manner  of  going 
about  it,  that  there  is  not  a  strong  hope 
of  succeeding. — The  Suburban. 

X3 
WELL  DONE,  MR.  TAIT 

FOUR  years  ago  Mr.  Thomas  Tait,  a 
prominent  ofiicial  of  the  Canadian 
Pacific  Railway,  left  Canada  for  Aus- 
tralia on  what  many  people  called  a 
fool's  errand.  He  had  accepted  an  offer 
to  become  chairman  of  a  Commission  to 
manage  the  Government  railways  of 
Victoria.  For  years  the  lines  had  been 
a  continuous  drain  on  the  colonial  ex- 
chequer and  expert  railway  men  were 
ultra-pessimistic  as  to  the  probable  suc- 
cess of  Mr.  Tait's  efforts.  At  the  end 
of  the*  first  year  under  the  new  manage- 
ment (1902-3),  there  was  a  deficit  of 
$1,778,787.  Last  year,  which  ended  on 
June  30th,  there  was  a  surplus  after  all 
expenses  and  interest  charges  were  paid 
of  $968,960.  Moreover,  the  service  has 
been  the  most  efl&cient  in  the  historv  of 


the  country,  and  the  freight  rates  have 
been  reduced  considerably.  Besides  this, 
the  Commission  has  wiped  out  an  old 
liability  of  $3,000,000.  While  in  the 
blue  book  the  reason  for  these  figures  is 
said  to  be  the  general  prosperity  of  the 
country,  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  much 
credit  is  due  to  the  brilHant  abihties  of 
Mr.  Tait  and  his  colleagues,  Mr.  Fitz- 
patrick  and  Mr.  Hudson.  It  is  no  small 
achievement  to  make  a  railway  pay.  It 
is  a  task  of  herculean  proportions  to 
provide  a  surplus  for  a  Government 
railway.     Floreat  Tait. — Toronto  News. 

X3 
READY  FOR  THE  HUSBANDMAN 

A  CCORDING  to  Mr.  William  Mc- 
■^  Innes,  of  the  Geological  Survey, 
there  is  a  tract  of  land  lying  north  of  the 
lower  Saskatchewan,  between  the  river 
and  the  valley  of  the  Upper  Churchill, 
which  is  wooded  and  available  for  agri- 
cultural purposes. 

Here  is  what  Mr.  Mclnnes  has  had  to 
say  about  it:  "This  country  is  essentially 
a  rolling,  clay-covered  plateau,  from  seven 
to  nine  hundred  feet  above  sea-level,  the 
valleys  of  its  streams  and  lakes  lying  gen- 
erally but  little  over  a  hundred  feet  below 
the  level  of  its  uplands.  This  clay  mantle, 
a  hundred  feet  deep  in  the  eastern  end  and 
gradually  thinning  out  westwards,  is  the 
result  of  sedimentation  over  the  bottom  of 
an  ancient  glacial  lake  that  has  been 
named  Lake  Agassiz,  once  covering  all 
the  lower  parts  of  Manitoba.  Through- 
out the  whole  northern  part  of  the  area 
the  Indians  grow  potatoes  with  good  suc- 
cess, and  to  any  one  who  is  at  all  familiar 
with  Indian  agricultural  methods  this 
means  that  the  potatoes  are  grown  without 
a  great  deal  of  trouble,  to  say  the  least. 
Some  of  these  crops  are  quite  abundant, 
and  at  times  produce  tubers  of  exceptional 
size.  I  believe  that  all  the  common  vege- 
tables might  be  grown  there  as  well  as 
potatoes. 

"The  cHmate  is  not  at  all  so  cold  as  is 
commonly  imagined.  Records  were  taken 
during  the  summer,  from  the  middle  of 
June  to  the  29th  of  September,  and,  with 
the  exception  of  one  night  in  August,  when 
the  thermometer  fell  a  Httle  below  freezing 
point,  there  was  no  frost  during  that  time." 


THE 


Canadian  Magazine 


VOL.   XX\III 


TORONTO,  JANUARY,  190: 


No.   3 


Cije  Curninc!;  of  tl)e  Mm^ 

IT  has  come  once  more  to  flie  turning  of  flie  glass. 
The  sand  is  all  but  spent,  and  flie  days  of  flie  old 
year  are  as  chaff  in  flie  wake  of  the  wind.  By 
the  gray  light  in  flie  western  shack,  at  flie  heaped 
tables  of  flie  rich,  within  flie  great  places  of  exchange, 
and  even  amongst  fliose  who  go  out  upon  flie  high 
seas,  men  will  give  pause.  For  it  is  the  time  of 
reckoning,  and  sober  fliought  must  go  to  flie  balance 
against  mirth  and  merrymaking.  It  is  flie  supreme 
hour  of  resolution.  May  flie  trend  of  worship  be 
not  towards  ftie  god  of  gold.  May  men  not  overlean 
towards  the  side  of  materialism.  May  diere  be 
reverence  for  simple  filings,  for  flie  young  babe 
in  me  cradle  and  flie  old  man  nearing  flie  valley. 
May  flie  milk  of  human  kindness  and  the  good 
hand  of  common  sympathy  go  forth  to  flie  natal 
feast.  Then  might  flie  New  Year  dawn  bright, 
and  people  flie  world  over  could  repeat  with  flie  poet: 

"Turn  again  die  wasted  glass. 
Kingly  crown  and  warrior  s  crest 
Are  not  worth  flie  blade  of  grass 
God  fasnions  for  die  swallow  s  nest. 

Newton  MacTavish 


AX    ANCIENT   HIGHWAY    IX    ENGLAND 


The  King's  Highway 


Bv  JAXE  LAVENDER 


HERE  is  the  Britisher  in 
all  the  world  who  has  not 
felt  the  tingle  of  his  owti 
importance  as  he  walks  forth 
on  the  King's  Highway? 
And  yet  few  perhaps  ever  stop  to  think 
of  the  glamour  of  romance,  the  great 
pageants  of  history,  the  traces  of  chivalry 
and  the  dignity  of  age  that  are  connected 
with  this  ancient  and  honouraljle  institu- 
tion. In  these  days  of  rapidly  advancing 
democracy  the  vagabond  may  follow  or  pre- 
cede the  footsteps  of  the  monarch,  and  the 
humblest  cart  in  the  whole  countryside 
has  an  equal  right  with  the  most  elabor- 
ate equipage  in  the  realm.  How  often  you 
hear  the  warning:  "Remember,  vou  are 
on  the  King's  Highway."  But  it  does  not 
matter  how  many  miles  you  have  trav- 
elled, or  how  many  years  you  have  lived 
212 


in  lands  that  are  new,  if  \(ju  would  see 
the  King's  Highway  in  all  its  primitive 
beauty  on  the  one  hand,  and  in  all  its 
majestic  splendour  on  the  other  hand, 
you  must  come  to  the  old  land.  There 
is  a  direct  divisional  line — stone  paved, 
dusty  enough,  treeless — which  separates 
modern  rows  of  houses  or  modem  rows 
of  shops,  and  has  no  greater  beauty  in 
the  British  Isles  than  anywhere  else;  and 
there  are  districts  in  even  smiHng  Eng- 
land where  a  village  street  is  bleak  and 
a  country  road  is  rough.  But,  as  I  re- 
call that  initial  glimpse  of  the  suburbs  of 
towns  and  of  British  country  generall}', 
there  it  appeared,  the  King's  Highway — 
a  broad  and  level  track  with  well-paved 
footpaths,  a  wide  sweep  of  tirm  earth 
curving  through  a  valley,  a  gleaming 
streak  of  vellow-white  skirting  a  hillside, 


TIIK    KINCS    lll(ill^\.\^ 


>V} 


a  splendid  (.'mlosua'  hclween  safe,  st(jne 
walls,  an  alluring  thing,  winding  among 
green  hedges  and  over  little  rills  and  un- 
der branching  trees,  on  through  a  very 
garden  land,  (juite  from  the  southern 
seaports  uji  to  Gretna  Green;  a  road 
continuing  indeed,  a  Thing  of  Beauty 
and  a  Joy  Forever,  all  the  way  up  to 
Edinburgh  Town. 

Maybe  you  have  slightly  outgrown  the 
idea  that  only  three  great  reasons  attract 
tourists  to  England,  particularly  to  Lon- 
don— to  see  the  King  with  his  crown  on, 
to  visit  Madame  Tussand's,  and  to  go 
to  the  Zoo.  Hut  a  primary  glimpse  of 
the  gold  and  the  white  and  the  scarlet  at 
the  gates  of  Whitehall,  and  you  have  the 
sen.sation  of  a  beginner  learning  to  read 
living,  not  printed,  history.  You  de- 
liberately stop  a  friend  or  a  street  oflficer 
and  ask, "What  are  these?"  just  because 
you  wi.sh  to  hear  him  say, "Those  are  the 
Horse  Guards,"  and  to  answer,  "Ohl 
are  they?" 

Perhaps  any  one  crossing  for  a  first 
time  from  the  West  rather  expects  to 
plunge  into  the  differences  of  the  older 
civilisations;  even  an  English  street  is 
going  to  be  at  once  a  strange  and  at- 
tractive thintr. 


lUil  all  Atlantic  >hii)>  do  not  come  to 
jjorl  at  Londfjn  City  and  in  bnjad  day- 
light. V(ju  stop  perhaps  at  Liverpool, 
and  drive  to  a  hotel  when  it  is  almost 
dusk,  thinking  only  of  how  similar  are 
the  evening  streets  of  everywhere — 
patches  of  shade  and  areas  of  brilliance, 
the  flickering  of  lights  set  up  on  lamp- 
posts, and  a  flashing  past  of  high  and 
shining  trams. 

However,  just  this  itself,  the  English 
tram,  is  not  quite  familiar,  not  exactly 
our  own  street  car.  There  is  an  air  of 
difference  as  about  the  coal-scuttle  and 
the  window  blind,  and  a  few  other  fur- 
nishings of  the  pleasant  room  allotted  for 
rest  and  sleep;  so  that  at  the  sound  of 
morning  traffic  you  awake,  interested  to 
view  things  generally  and  to  look  from 
the  window  at  the  day-lit  street 

It  is  strange  not  to  think  of  it  at  night, 
this  deck  or  upper  story,  which  is  the 
different  thing  from  the  electric  car. 
These  places  on  top  appear  to  be  popu- 
lar. Down  there  on  the  roadway  are 
hurr\ing  women  and  girls  of  the  masses, 
probably.  Each  has  an  apron  and  a 
shawl;  no  one  has  a  hat;  and  how  does 
the  one  with  the  loaded  basket  balance 
it  on  her  head  ?     How  did  she  lift  it  up 


ROTTEX    ROW,    LOXDOX 


214 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


ROADWAY   IX   EVESHAM,    WORCESTER,    EXGLAXD 


there?  There  are  long  rows  of  very 
flat-looking  houses  over  that  way;  here, 
a  monument,  and  another  partly  in  sight 
at  the  top  of  the  square,  and  splendid 
groups  those  massive  brown  buildings 
opposite. 

Thus,  a  few  people  and  a  few  things 
at  close  hand,  a  bit  of  life  or  action 
centred  at  some  spot,  a  glimpse  through 
a  window,  and  the  stranger,  any  day, 
anywhere,  gathers  some  first  impression. 
He  may  hardly  say  to  himself  or  others, 
this  is  acquaintance  with  a  countr}-  or  a 
folk;  but  isn't  it  the  conviction  with 
most  of  us  that  first  impressions  are  fre- 
quently characteristic  things? 

It  was  just  in  glimpses  from  a  railway 
carriage  window  that  the  ordinary  British 
thoroughfare  began  to  interest,  for  in- 
stance, me;  and  a  bit  of  glamour  that  was 
ever  attached  must  have  truly  belonged 
to  what  was  seen.  Quite  practical' ac- 
quaintance since  has  not  dispelled  the 
conclusions  of  first  sight. 

When  I  reached  Edinburgh  it  was 
clear  that  here  were  stones  to  walk  upon, 
even  cobble  stones;  for  it  was  in  Castle 
Street  that  cars  and  cabs  finally  left  me 
standing,  with,  alack  I  my  face  turned 
not    to    Edinburgh's  storied    mount    of 


green  and  grey,  but 
toward  some  fifty 
circling  white- 
washed  steps  be- 
tween one  doorway 
at  the  ground  and 
another  at  the 
house-top.  But,  up 
and  rested,  do\Mi 
and  out  again  by- 
and-by,  and  there 
was  Castle  Rock 
against  the  sky;  and 
after  a  step  or  two 
along  the  cobbled 
way  it  was  but  a 
choice  whether  to 
walk  through  that 
upper  street,  whose 
ever  y  intersection 
has  a  monument  to 
some  maker  of  liis- 
tory  or  of  fame,  or 
directly  forward  to 
the  galleries  and 
the  statues,  the  green  gardens  and  the  mag- 
nificent vistas  of  the  city's  chief  highway. 
Now,  the  ubiquitous  tram  tra\'erses 
Princes  Street,  and  there  are  disagreeable 
people  who  intimate  that  the  folk  who 
do  not  come  and  see  Edinburgh  soon 
will  find  themselves  whizzed  through 
even  the  Wynds  off  the  Canongate  in  a 
narrow-gauge  "electric"  of  some  kind; 
but  the  month  of  June  and  glorious 
weather,  or  perhaps  just  Wind  prejudice 
(my  ancestors  were  Scotch),  make  me 
almost  Hke  to  meet  a  Princes  Street  tram. 
There  was  a  feeling  of  relative  safety  as 
to  crossing  a  public  street,  and  of  rela- 
tive comfort  as  to  the  getting  into  or  out 
of  a  public  conveyance,  which  even  yet 
comes  like  balm  at  any  comparison  of 
the  smoke-begrimed  monster  of  Paris 
or  the  whirring  racer  of  London,  and 
this,  at  least  for  one  season,  clean,  roomy, 
gentle-moving  Edinburgh  car. 

One  smaller  and  British  city  held  a 
rival  favourite — Chester,  whose  little,  new 
tramcar  was  in  keeping  with  its  quaint 
streets,  and  altogether  dignified  and  de- 
lightful in  freedom  from  a  load  of  outside 
advertisements,  and  in  quiet  colouring 
and  furnishing  within. 

The  King's  Hisfhwav — a  wav  made  or 


THE    KING'S   HIGHWAY 


215 


arranged  by  order  of  the  King,  or  be- 
cause a  king  would  travel  through!  How 
certainl)'  when  in  Edinburgh  you  first 
walk  down  from  Castle  Hill  to  Holy- 
rood;  or,  in  London,  walk  by  way  of 
Whitehall  to  Westminster  Abbey,  or  go 
around  to  the  Tower;  or,  when  at  Chest- 
er, at  Warwick,  at  Winchester,  }-ou  pass 
under  such  ancient  gateways  as  yet  span 
the  city  roads — how  certainly  your 
thoughts  turn  to  historic  pageants,  prog- 
resses, processions,  to  the  reasons  joyful 
or  tragic  why  these  occurred,  and  to  the 
civic  blessing  or  the  civic  bane  associated 
therewith. 

Perhaps  the  only  preventixe  to  much 
questioning  aloud,  is  that  which  keeps 
you  also  still  in  the  cathedrals— guide- 
books can  touch  but  the  margins  of  the 
story.  Old-world  roads  and  walks  and 
passages  mean  history  and  Hterature  at 
every  turn,  and  it  is  a  long  and  varied 
chapter  that  of  royal  streets  and  ways. 

\Vay,  mainroad,  avenue,  suited  to 
the^uses,   the   ceremonies,   the   pleasures 


of  a  kingdom  or  a  king!  Drive  through 
the  Long  Walk  at  Windsor,  or  even 
through  an}-  central  avenue  of  a  Lon- 
don park;  seat  yourself  on  a  bank  at 
Calton  Hill;  walk  from  Warwick  to 
Kenilworth,  or  out  and  along  such  coast 
roads  as  you  may  readily  discover  in 
Ireland,  in  Wales,  or  anywhere  aroimd 
the  British  Isles — then  tr}'  the  adjec- 
tives you  require  to  fit  the  splendour 
there  revealed. 

This  is  exactly  one  matter  that  im- 
presses at  least  a  Western  visitor,  the 
sense  of  length,  width,  space,  atmos- 
phere, found  in  some  strip  of  landscape, 
the  while  he  is  being  poUtely  assured 
that  greatness,  so  far  as  the  world  of 
outdoors  is  concerned,  belongs  to  his 
particular  country,  because  on  the  map 
it  is  so  big. 

A  highway  for  the  King,  yet  the  road 
or  public  highway  belonging  also  to  the 
people;  the  course  or  thoroughfare  open 
to  all  passengers;  the  way  kept  free, 
public,  safe  for  everyone — for  the  King 


"the    great    DmDE' 


216 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


PARISH    CHURCH,    CHIPPING    CAMPDEN,    GLOUCESTERSHIRE,    AND    OLD    THATCHED    CIDER 
MILL  (now   used    AS   DWELLING) 


and  for  the  citizen,  for  the  citizen  and 
the  stranger,  for  you  and  for  me. 

They  tell  you  lo-day  in  Italy  that  the 
wayfarer  has  no  longer  any  cause  to 
fear  the  brigand,  and  that  the  picturesque 
carabineers  of  the  villages  and  the  towns 
are  also  trustworthy  soldiers  watching 
everywhere  the  interests  and  the  safety 
of  the  people.  You  walk  about  and  do 
get  along  there  very  happily  indeed. 
Yet,  what  assurance  the  average  stranger 
on  the  London  streets  seems  at  once  to 
have  in  the  governing  power  of  the 
guardians  of  these  streets;  and  how  sel- 
dom the  tourist  from  anywhere  ques- 
tions of  dangers  to  his  purse  or  to  his 
scrip  when  walking  along  the  banks  of 
the  Avon  or  the  Isis  or  the  Dee. 

Oh,  the  hedge-bordered  lanes,  the 
tree-fringed  roads  of  peaceful  Britain! 

"You  tak'  the  high  road,  and  I'll  tak' 
the  low. 
And  I'll  be  in  Scotland  afore  thee." 

It  may  be  the  virtual  gipsy  of  more 
southern  climes  who  sings: 


"  Homeless,  ragged,  and  tanned. 
Under  the  sunlit  sky; 
AA'ho  so  free  in  the  land. 
Who  so  contented  as  I?" 

But  let  the  vagabond  mood  seize  your 
soul  some  summer  day  and  you'll  find  that 
Britain's  Isles  are  very  fair  fields  to  wander 
in;  and  that  the  wayfarer  there — if  not 
just  a  lawless  tramp — may  sing  if  he 
care  to : 

"Ride  past,  my  proud  Lord  and  your  Lady 
so  gay; 
I,  too,    share  the  sunshine,  and  all   you 

survey ; 
I'm  as  happy,  as  free,  on  the  King's  High- 
way." 

The  pedestrian  expects  a  few  things  to 
keep  a  holiday  in  any  land  from  being 
idyUic,  and  does  not  complain  when  he 
cannot  here,  for  instance,  leap  a  fence  and 
wander  through  quiet  country  woods  and 
fields  quite  as  in  the  new  world;  but,  he 
is  disappointed,  perhaps,  that  he  can  be 
importuned  as  freely  here  as  anywhere  to 
buv  at  least  shoe  laces  and  postal  cards 
and  posies  of  wild  flowers,  if  he  but  seat 


11  IK    K1.\(;S    IIKillW  A^ 


217 


himself  one  minule  In-  the  \va\>ide  or  gaze 
a  trifle  too  earnestly  at  things  notable  to 
view.  But  here  is  this  world  the  mania  for 
speed  seldom  permits  even  the  private 
motor-car  to  pass  along  at  a  pace  meaning 
a  modicum  of  discomfort  lo  those  travel- 
ling otherwise;  and  all  sorts  and  types 
of  things  called  modern  aids  to  travel 
threaten  to  infest  (not  adorn)  the  most 
retired  and  lovel\'  of  the  country  roads, 
rivers  and  lanes  of  this  whole  conserva- 
tive kingdom. 

Therefore,  come  soon  you  who  w^ould 
have  the  enchantment  of  walking  around 
at  all,  and  of  being  directed,  and  of  being 
lost  in  your  first  "old  country"  village. 

Bewitching  places  some  of  these  villages 
still  I  How  the  roads  curve  and  circle  be- 
tween the  high  garden  walls! 

Are  there,  indeed,  any  British  towns, 
outside  of  some  one  or  two,  where  the 
streets  do  cross  each  other  at  right  angles  ? 
And  what  fascination  to  be  told  over  again, 
after  having  already  tried  and  failed, 
"Go  straight  on,  just  a  wee  bit,  just  as 
straight  as  you  can  go,"  and  again  to  find 
the  road  immediately  forming  into  a  loop, 
or  splitting  into  the  letter  Y  so  that, 
however  pronounced  his  bump  of  location, 
no  newcomer  can  by  any  manner  of  means 
conclude  which  is  the  way  that  does 
"go  on." 

^^'here  would  I  drop  you,  practical 
citizen  of  the  West,  if  I  might,  into  these 
Islands  of  the  Sea  ? 

Into  just  which  village  of  streets  and 
lanes  and  interesting  by-ways  ? 

There  is  one  built  on  a  Welsh  hillside, 
another  on  an  Irish  lough;  there  are  some 
up  in  the  far  north,  and  several  in  the  east, 
the  Midlands  and  the  south. 

If  told,  would  you  go  quietly  and  walk 
around  a  little  and  find  enjoyment — that 
is,  not  take  all  your  motor-cars? 

For  a  few  sojourners  and  \va}'farers 
will  regret  when  every  bit  of  rural 
Britain  disappears,  and  no  longer  the 
budding  artist  shall  be  seen  picturing  sea 
sands  white  as  those  o'  Aberdour,  orange 
as  those  of  Ryde,  nor  the  youthful  poet 
found  addressing  sonnets  to  those  cot- 
tages that  whitewashed,  pinkwashed, 
thatch-roofed  and  tiled  are  still  the  t\-pical 
spots  along  the  country  highways. 


On  the  (Jld  C'ountr\-  thoroughfares  are 
the  Old  Country  people.  What  if  writers 
who  write  for  the  papers  have  used  all 
the  themes  over  and  over  again,  and 
}ou  read  that  folk  the  world  around 
now-a-days  dress  and  look  alike,  a  sort 
of  jjerennial  interest  remains,  a  some- 
thing new  for  every  new  tourist  in  the 
actual  meeting  with  residents  of  any 
other  country  whatever  than  his  own; 
and  therefore  there  is  for  each  stranger 
a  something  that  has  never  yet  all  been 
told  him,  and  that  he  sees  afresh  with  his 
own  eyes  in  The  London  Bus  Driver, 
The  Metropolitan  Police,  The  Huckster 
of  Cheapside,  The  Fisherman  of  the  Dee, 
The  Country  Squire,  The  Citizen  on  the 
Pavement,  The  Rider  in  the  Row. 

And  finally  there  is  yet  to  be  found — 
for  with  the  passing  of  the  horse  this  goes 
too — there  is  yet  on  the  British  street  the 
British  vehicle,  the  mere  list  of  its  names 
seems  to  set  a  W'esterner  comparing  high- 
way customs  and  habits:  his  car,  cab, 
coupe,  spring- waggon,  carriage  (single  or 
double),  buckboard,  buggy,  and  light 
"rig"  in  general,  contrasted  with  hackney, 
hansom,  brake,  brougham,  and  all  that 
array  of  cart  or  two-wheeled  private 
"rimabout"  which  culminates  in  the 
little  hoUoW'  cubical  box,  with  the  bolted 
door  behind.  Tell  me  the  district  of 
provincial  or  rural  England  without  this 
latter  and  favourite  conveyance,  this 
"rig"  as  noticeable  to  the  eye  of  the  tour- 
ist as  the  Irish  jaunting-car? 

But  have  you  ever  found  out  its  name  ? 
Ask  and  the  reply  will  be.  "What  do 
you  mean?  My  Governess- Car?  Pony- 
trap?  Gig?"  for  the  Englishman  never 
seems  to  have  a  name  for  it  himself,  for 
this  odd  little  two-wheeled  box,  into  whose 
rectangular  depths  the  citizen  of  any 
shire  will  drop,  two-thirds  out  of  sight, 
and  persist  to  the  rest  of  the  world  that 
the  vehicle  doesn't  look  funny. 

Altogether  there  are  reasons  why  some 
of  us,  Britain's  friends  or  kinsmen,  care 
to  cross  an  ocean  to  see  her  genial  face 
just  quite  at  home,  her  houses  and  her 
gardens  as  these  are;  to  view-,  in  pleasant 
fact,  scenes  of  city  and  of  country  that 
have  often  been  described — to  live  a  little 
while,  or  linger,  on  the  King's  Highway. 


STATUE   OF   STRATHCONA  HORSE   TO  BE   ERECTED    AT   MONTREAL 
WTTH  PORTRAIT  OF  THE  SCULPTOR,  G.  W.   HILL 


Canadian  Artists  Abroad 


B\-  WILLIAM  H.  INGRAM 


lay  mind 
arrive     at 


N  any  criticism  of  art  and 
artists  it  is  always  advisable 
to  state  what  you  consider 
the  essential  factors  in  a 
good  painting,  so  that  the 
:an  see  immediately  how  you 
certain  judgments.  Thus, 
with  premises  clearly  set  out.  there  shotild 
be  no  difficulty  at  all  for  critic  and  layman 
alike  to  reach  the  same  conclusions. 

That  being  the  case,  may  I  say  that 
according  to  the  best  French  critics  there 
are  in  reality  only  two  things  in  a  paint- 
ing: value  and  colour?  Without  the  first 
the  work  could  not  be  called  a  drawing. 

218 


It  could  be  called  only  a  daub,  or  splotches 
of  colour,  squeezed  wantonly  out  of  a 
tube.  As  for  the  second  factor,  colour, 
so  many  questions  arise  out  of  its  use 
that  it  would  be  far  easier  to  develop  its 
meaning  as  we  go  along. 

It  may  be  sufficient  for  us  now  to  say 
that  a  picture  is  exquisitely  coloured,  if 
it  is  warm  or  cold,  or  if  the  law  of  com- 
plementar}'  colours  is  well  observed.  In 
other  words,  if  we  mix  yellow  and  red  we 
get  orange,  which  in  turn  imparts  that 
feeling  so  well  described  as  "warmth." 
Contrarily,  if  we  use  blue  the  resultant 
feeling;  is  one  of  a  decidedlv  lower  tern- 


CANADIAN    AR'JIS'I'S    ABltOAD 


^219 


peraturc.  Green  aiul 
violet,  the  comple- 
mentary colours  <.f 
red  and  yellow,  if 
mixed  with  blue  also 
produce  the  same 
effect.  Thus  in  ever\ 
composition  of  colour 
there  should  alwa\> 
be  this  harmony  and 
equilibrium. 

Carrying  this  idea 
further,  we  can  safely 
conclude  that  in 
studies  of  outdoor 
life,  if  the  lights  arc 
warm,  the  shadows 
are  cold,  and  vice 
versa  for  views  of 
interiors.  It  is 
from  this  standpoint 
that  I  intend  to  consider  Canadian   art. 

Before  doing  so,  however,  I  must  re- 
vert again  to  the  first  factor,  value,  which 
is  the  degree  of  intensity  of  light  from  the 
object  lighting  to  the  thing  illuminated. 
Naturally,  the  greater  the  distance  be- 
tween these  objects  the  deeper  will  be 
the  shadow.  Values,  then,  are  the  vari- 
ous plays  of  light  and  shadow;  the  latter, 
b}'  the  way,  always  retaining  its  trans- 
parency. 

In  stating  the  above  facts,  I  feel  that 
I  must  make  some 
apology,  because  to 
the  initiated  they  will 
savour  not  a  little 
of  kindergarten 
methods.  But, know- 
ing as  I  do  how 
many  musical  and 
art  critics  are  turned 
out  in  modern  com- 
mercial life,  these  ex- 
planations may  not 
be  entirely  inane. 

To  realise  this  one 
has  only  to  walk  into 
an  ordinary  galler} 
and  listen  for  a 
brief  moment  or  two 
to  the  adjectives 
bandied  about  b\ 
the    learned.     Tone, 


THE   BEACH,   ST.    MALO — PAINTING    BY   MOKKICE 


touch,  atmosphere,  technique,  interpreta- 
tion, and  tens  of  other  words  are  used 
with  an  assurance  that  to  the  neophyte 
is  not  only  bewildering  but  appalling. 

That  James  W.  Morrice,  a  Canadian 
painter  who  is  now  in  Paris,  has  already 
done  something  is  an  established  fact. 
Born  forty-two  years  ago  in  Montreal, 
the  son  of  David  Morrice,  he  received  his 
early  education  in  the  University  of  To- 
ronto, where  he  was  graduated,  and  in  due 
course  he  entered  Oscroode  Hall.     It  would 


PUBLIC   GARDEN,   VENICE — PAINTING   BY   MORRICE 


220 


THE   CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


seem ,  how- 
ever, that 
the  life  in  the 
old  'Varsity 
"residence," 
together  with 
his  natural 
liking  for  the 
artistic,  called 
him  a  w  a  y 
from  the 
musty  tomes 
of  law.  For 
some  years 
after  he  could 
be  found  stud)'ing  art  in  England,  where 
his  surroundings  were  more  in  keeping 
with  his  profession.  Leaving  England, 
he  drifted  to  Paris,  the  great  art  centre 
of  the  world,  which  ever  since  has  been 
the  guiding  star  of  his  hfe's  w'ork. 

He  is  a  peculiar  fellow,  is  Morrice,  in 
more  ways  than  one,  but  in  none  more  so 
than  in  his  sensitiveness  to  personal  esti- 
mates. In  his  art,  however,  he  is  quite  at 
home,  and  thus  ready  and  wilHng  to 
discuss  what,  to  him,  is  a  labour  of  love. 
His  progress  in  that  is  indeed  an  interest- 
ing study,  because  one  can  gradually  trace 
his  emanciiwtion  from  a  ijarochial  stnnd- 


A   i^UEBEC    i'ASTOKAL PAIXTIXG    BY    MORRICE 


point  to  a 
broader  and 
more  cosmo- 
politan point 
of  view. 
Then,  again, 
it  can  be  seen 
how  he  was 
converted 
from  the 
classic  to  the 
i  m  pressionist 
school.  The 
picture,  "The 
Public  Gar- 
possession  if 
of  Montreal, 
picture  Mr. 
bv    the 


den.  Venice,"  now  in  the 
Mr.  E.  B.  Greenshields, 
amply  illustrates  this.  In  thi 
^lorrice  is  evidently  influenced 
work  of  Corot,  which  certainly  cannot 
l)e  said  of  his  ''Quai  des  Grands 
Augnstins,  Paris.''''  A  comparison  of  the 
trees  amply  proves  this.  In  the  scene  <.n 
the  qiiai  he  definitely  joins  the  impres- 
sionist school,  and  his  later  work  only 
tends  to  accentuate  his  conversion.  Both 
works,  however,  are  excellent  examples 
of  the  schools  to  which  he  has  adhered. 

But  it  is  to  his  earher  efforts,  perhaps, 
that    Canadia.is   are   more   akin.     In    his 


A    KKEXCH-CAXADIAX   VILLAGE PAIXTIXG,    BV    MoKRICE 

(Stc.  Anne  de  Beaupre) 


CANADIAN    AI{'nS'l'S    AliKOAI) 


221 


.studies  arouiid  Sle.  Anne  dc  Hcau[)rc, 
Quebec,  the  various  play>  of  liu;hl  and 
shadow  are  exceed insfly  suljtle.  One  un- 
consciously feels  the  atmosphere  inhaled 
bv  the  little  school  children  as  they  plod 
dutifully  on  to  that  \illage  in  New  France 
where  shrines  are  not  unknown  and  be- 
liefs are  always  simple.  Follow  the  same 
little  ones  up  the  hill  to  the  church  beyond 
the  way,  and  then  look  back  upon  the  road 
as  it  winds  tortuously  throus^h  the  snow. 

Yes,  Morrice  has  drawn  better  than  he 
knew. 

The  lights  are  warm,  even  if  tlie  shad- 
ows are  cold. 

I  must  now  come- 
to  the  recognition  of 
Morrice,  wherein 
p!a\'  the  various 
lights  and  shadows. 
In  doing  so  I  make 
no  comment.  If  the 
French  Government 
has  seen  fit  to  bu}- 
h is  winter  scene 
(>n  the  '' Quai  des 
Gra nds  A tigustms,' ' 
for  the  Palais  dii 
Luxembourg,  which 
i-  reserved  for  the 
work  of  the  great 
modern  painters, 
any  criticksm  from 
me  would  be  not 
I  -nly  uncalled  for  but 
decidedly  in  bad 
taste.  Let  it  be 
sufficient  to  show  a 

reproduction,  as  well  as  one  of  "The 
Beach,  Parame,''  which  is  now  in  the 
Philadelphia  ^luseum.  In  both,  one 
notices  the  intense!}-  human  touch  blotted 
in  an  unusually  eftective  atmosphere. 

And  now  for  a  recent  work  which 
combines  the  characteristics  of  them  all; 
one  which  is  a  composite  painting,  as  it 
were,  of  the  efforts  of  James  W.  ^lorrice. 
As  the  eye  sweeps  over  the  narrow 
stretches  of  sand  which  fringe  the  ancient 
town  of  St.  ]SIalo,  memory  takes  us  back 
in  fancy  to  an  episode  in  Canadian  history 
worthy  of  interpretation  by  a  Canadian 
artist.  Who  knows  but  that  Morrice  will 
essay  the  task  some  day,  and  that,  too, 
for  the  Government  of  Canada  ?     If  he 


LE  OU.\I   DES  GR.AXDS    AUGUSTIXS,  PARIS 


>liould,  rest  assurecl  that  the  result  will  be 
well  worth}'  of  his  effort. 

Put  tiiat  is  for  the  future  to  decide. 
Meantime  let  us  look  after  the  present, 
and  in  doing  .so  see  how  Canadian  art 
is  repre.sented  in  the  person  of  George 
William  Hill,  who  has  just  finished  his 
monument  to  the  Strathcona  Horse,  for 
Montreal.  To  the  good  people  of  Mon- 
treal this  seemingly  long  delayed  statue  in 
memory  of  the  fallen  Canadian  heroes  of 
the  South  African  War  will  arrive  at  a 
most  o])portune  time.  For  it  will  show 
that  in  the  davs  of  her  prosperity  Canada 
i-  not  unmindful  of 
the  obligation 
placed  upon  her 
when  the  existence 
of  the  Enii)ire  was  in 
danger.  It  will  be 
at  the  same  time 
a  fitting  monument 
to  one  of  Canada's 
grand  old  men,  the 
Emj)ire  Builder, 
Lord  Strathcona 
and  Mount  Royal. 
It  will  also  be  no 
mean  addition  to 
Canadian  art. 

From  a  purely  per- 
sonal standpoint  the 
i  n  d  i  \-  i  d  u  a  1  i  t  y  of 
George  ^^'illiam  Hill 
may  not  be  in- 
teresting, but,  assoc- 
iated as  it  is  with 
one  of  Canada's 
foremost  scul])tors,  the  question  as  to 
who  he  is  remains  a  pertinent  question. 

The  son  of  a  marble  dealer,  one  of  the 
people  of  old  Quebec,  young  Hill  learned 
his  "metier"  under  the  directing  care  of 
his  father,  who  probably  saw  in  the  son 
only  a  clever  artisan.  But  the  apprentice 
lad  had  higher  dreams  than  that.  He 
dreamed  of  other  heights  to  climb,  and 
in  one  of  those  ascents  of  fanc)'  won  the 
prize  in  an  architectural  competition. 
George  WiUiam  Hill  thereupon  left  the 
ranks  of  the  workmen,  though  continuing 
to  remain  in  those  of  the  workers.  For 
the  next  few  years  he  resided  in  Montreal, 
busily  engaged  upon  some  designs  for  a 
number    of    notable    residences.     Then, 


THE    CANADL\N    MAGAZINE 


i'AXEL,    sTKATHCOXA   liUK^E    -MU.XLMEXT       BY    HILL 


feeling  he  had  .cone  as  far  as  he  could 
there,  he  left  for  Paris,  where,  inspired  by 
the  work  of  the  great  masters,  he  hoped 
to  come  into  his  own.  Success  has  un- 
doubtedly attended  him. 

Upon  retiu-ning  home  Mr.  Hill  was  en- 
gaged to  design  the  Strathcona  monument, 
the  success  of  which  can  easily  be  seen  in 
the  accompanying  cliche.  As  there  was, 
however,  no  art 
bronze  factory  in  Ca- 
nada, he  was  com- 
pelled to  leave  for 
Paris  again,  where, 
almost  within  a 
stone's  throw  of  the 
Pantheon,  he  opened 
his  atelier.  And  now 
the  equestrian  statue 
c  o  ni  m  e  m  o  r  a  t  i  n  g 
Strathcona 's  Horse  is 
finally  completed. 
The  enlarging  ma- 
chines have  traced 
its  surface  for  the 
last  time.  The  large 
bronze  is  an  accom- 
plished fact. 

As  it  looms  up  in 
the  open,  the  story 
upon  which  the  mon- 
ument is  based  is 
plainly  legible,    so 


that  even  those  who 
run  may  read. 

A  Strathcona  Scout 
has  been  out  recon- 
noitring. An  unex- 
pected cannon  shot 
from  the  Boers  has 
caused  his  horse  to 
rear  up  in  fear  and 
trembling.  The 
statue  portrays  the 
brave  soldier  reining 
in  the  frightened 
steed,  as  he  him>elf 
gazes  keenly  in  the 
direction  of  the  hid- 
den enemy.  The  en- 
semble effect  is  most 
dramatic.  The  clean, 
sinuous  lines  of  the 
horse  stand  out  in 
marked  contrast  to 
the  rugged,  dusty  appearance  of  the  man. 
The  sculptor  has  moulded  faithfully  to 
life  his  masterpiece  for  posterity.  Mon- 
treal need  have  no  cjualms  about  the  re- 
ception of  this  work. 

In  James  \^ .  Morrice  and  George 
William  Hill  Canada  has  two  most 
worthy  representatives  of  the  two  most 
noble  arts — painting  and  scuplture. 


PAXEL,  STR.\THCON.^  HORSE  MONUMENT — BY  HILL 


^•5,;oii?2 


MRS.   EDDY    AS   SHE   APPEARED   ABOUT   A  QUARTER-CENTURY   AGO,   WHEN 
SHE  BEGAN  THE  CHRISTIAN  SCIENCE  MOVEMENT 


The  Mother  of  Christian  Science 

AN  APPRECIATION 

Bv  ADELAIDE  P,  FITCH 


IRS.  MARY  BAKER  GLOV- 
ER EDDY,  or  "Mother 
Eddy,"  as  her  followers  call 
her,  is  a  much-talked-of  in- 
dividual just  now.  Almost 
every  day  sets  afloat  some  extraordinary 
tale  concerning  her,  the  latest  rumovu: 
being  that  she  no  longer  exists.  Her 
disciples  refute  this  report,  stoutly  main- 
taining  that  in    spite  of    her   eighty-five 

223 


years,  she  is  as  much  alive  as  ever; 
indeed,  there  are  those  who  seem  to  be- 
have that  their  spiritual  mother  is  en- 
dowed with  perpetual  life,  and  will  con- 
tinue to  inhabit  her  earthly  tabernacle 
until  the  end  of  time  and  all  things. 
Furthermore,  say  they,  the  author  of 
"Science  and  Health,"  with  key  to  the 
Scriptvires.  the  medium  through  which 
Christian   Science  obtained  its  introduc- 


224 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


tion  to  the  world,  is  not -content  to  sit  in 
the  chimney  comer  with  idly-folded 
hands,  and  ruminate  on  the  successive 
triumphs  and  rapid  growth  of  the  society 
of  which  she  enjoys  the  distinction  of 
being  founder;  on  the  contrary  her  active 
brain  is  ever  employed  in  sohing  the  diffi- 
cult problems  which  confront  Christian 
Science,  or  composing  helpful  pastoral 
letters  to  the  various  churches  or  members 
of  her  tiock.  Thus  this  servant  labours 
as  assiduously  in  her  allotment  of  earth's 
vineyard  as  in  the  da}'  when  Christian 
Science  was  in  its  infancy,  and  stretching 
out  its  arms  for  recognition. 

Without  descending  to  the  level  of 
gossip,  I  shall  merely  repeat  a  few  harmless 
incidents  relating  to  Sirs.  Eddy,  which 
have  recently  come  to  my  knowlege,  and 
as  they  are  practically  true,  the  customary 
grain  of  salt  will  not  be  required.  Con- 
cord, Mass.,  is  Mrs.  Eddy's  abiding  place, 
but  she  does  not  mingle  with  her  towns- 
people, and  is  not  seen  by  them  e.xcept 
when  taking  her  daily  drive.  The  doors 
of  her  mansion  SNnng  open  to  none  but 
the  favoured  few — but  could  we  obtain  an 
entrance  we  woidd  find  the  house  full  of 
precious  gifts,  presented  by  doting  wor- 
shippers of  many  climes.  The  dra^^'ing- 
room  is  the  sanctuary  wherein  are  placed 
the  treasures  her  soul  most  dearly  loves. 
Upon  the  walls  of  this  room  hang  the 
portraits  of  her  three  departed  husbands. 
In  gazing  at  these  pictures  one  cannot 
but  wonder  if  a  large  measure  of  ^Lrs. 
Eddy's  fame  may  not  be  attributed  to 
their    inspiration    and    \irile    influence. 

One  summer  afternoon,  not  long  ago,  a 
friend  of  mine  in  passing  Mrs.  pMdy's 
house,  observed  stationed  at  certain  fixed 
spots  on  her  la\Mi  ordinary  bushel  baskets. 
Curiosity  prompted  him  to  linger,  in 
order  to  discover  for  what  purpose  they 
were  so  placed.  He  had  not  long  to  wait. 
Ere  he  had  time  to  pronounce  his  own 
name,  one  devotee  after  another  stepped 
up  from  a  gathering  crowd  and  dropped 
into  the  baskets  a  bank  note  of  greater  or 
less  value.  By  judicious  questioning  my 
friend  learned  that  the  money  thus  raised 
was  to  help  swell  some  Christian  Science 
Church  fund. 

In  an  incredibly  brief  period  the  baskets 
were  literallv  overflowing;  with  greenbacks. 


reel  airing  forcible  pressing  down  to  ac- 
commodate others.  Thus  the  shower  of 
money  descended  until  a  halt  was  called. 
Two  bushels  of  bank  notes  reaped  in  a 
single  afternoon  is  a  harvest  not  to  be 
despised. 

Mrs.  Eddy  is  no  bloodless  saint,  floating 
in  the  upper  regions  and  subsisting  on  air. 
She  too  yields  to  hard  facts,  or  bows  to 
passing  fancies,  and  while  frowning  upon 
the  so-called  claims  of  mortal  mind,  cir- 
cumstances compel  her  to  submit  to  the 
very  claims  she  so  strenuously  disclaims. 
She  is  a  firm  believer  in  the  gospel  of 
beauty,  is  always  attractively  gowned,  and 
dwells  in  an  atmosphere  of  refinement, 
luxury  and  comfort.  She  is  in  all  respects 
a  womanly  woman,  responding  to  the 
same  heart-longings  and  desires  that 
attach  themselves  to  the  rest  of  woman- 
kind, whatever  may  be  their  environment. 
She  hungers,  thirsts,  satisfies  the  cravings 
of  her  palate  with  good  food  and  drink, 
enjoying  to  the  fuU  the  little  pleasures  of 
life,  the  milk  and  honey  of  material  ex- 
istence. She  will  never,  if  she  can  possibly 
avoid  it,  permit  her  face  to  be  seen  except 
b\-  her  closest  intimates,  or  those  of  her 
o\\'n  household.  When  driving,  a  trusty 
parasol  completely  screens  her  visage  from 
peering  eyes. 

One  festival  day  a  deputation  of  two 
hundred  Christian  Scientists  called  upon 
their  "mother"  in  a  solid  body  to  pay 
their  respects  and  receive  her  blessing. 
Stepping  out  upon  the  balcony,  her 
favourite  rostrum,  she  addressed  a  few 
words  of  welcome  to  the  expectant  throng 
on  the  la^\Ti  below,  her  face  all  the  while 
concealed  behind  the  omnipresent  parasol. 
She  then  withdrew  after  the  manner  of 
angel  visitants  in  general;  all  that  was  seen 
of  the  "'Sage  of  Concord"  on  that  occasion 
was  the  back  of  her  head. 

Mrs.  Eddy  is  nearing  the  end  of  Ufe. 
She  cannot,  if  she  would,  remain  here  much 
longer.  As  far  as  the  general  world  knows 
no  successor  to  her  has  yet  been  appointed; 
whether  the  society  whose  every  action  has 
always  depended  upon  her  guiding  word 
will  crumble  away  \\-ithout  it.  or  whether 
another  will  be  raised  to  take  Mrs.  Eddy's 
place  and  continue  to  sow  the  seed  and 
gather  the  grain,  is  a  question  which  time 
and  circumstance?  will  solve. 


Worry— the  Disease  of  the  Age 


By  DR.  C.  W.  SALEEBY 
I.— THE  CONSEQUENCES  OF  WORRY 


'  He  that  is  of  a  merry  heart  hath  a   contin- 
ual feast." — Prov.  xv:  15. 

'  The  mind  is  its  own  place,  and  in  itself 
Can    make    a   Heaven   of   Hell,    a    Hell   of 
Heaven." — Paradise  Lost. 

HE  supreme  and  unique 
character  of  the  mind  of 
man  is  self-consciousness. 
This  it  is  which,  as  Hamlet 
says,  makes  him  a  being 
of  "such  large  discourse  looking  before 
and  after."  If  he  loses  it,  he  ceases  to 
be  human.  Thus,  at  bottom,  the  cause 
of  worry  is  life;  its  cure  is  death. 
To  live  is  to  care,  and  therefore  neces- 
sarily, at  times,  to  live  is  to  worry.  But 
the  end  of  life  is  happiness,  whether  for 
self  or  for  others,  and  therefore  worry, 
iear  and  care,  though  inevitable,  are  in 
direct  opposition  to  the  end  for  which 
we  live.  For  what  do  they  count  in 
human  life? 

The  two  quotations,  one  ancient  and 
■one  modern,  which  I  have  placed  at  the 
head  of  this  chapter,  indicate  clearly 
enough  what  must  necessarily  be  the 
case — that  the  importance  of  the  mind 
and  of  the  manner  in  which  it  looks 
upon  life  has  been  recognised  b}-  the 
wise  of  all  ages.  Before  we  attempt  to 
classify  the  various  states  of  mind  which 
we  are  to  study;  before  we  consider 
whether  there  is  any  worry  that  may  be 
called  normal  and  necessary,  or  study 
the  worry  that  is  the  product  of  disease 
or  ill-health,  or  the  worry  of  which  dis- 
ease is  a  product,  let  us  first  ask  our- 
selves what  this  fact  of  worry  signifies 
in  human  life  in  our  own  age  and  civil- 
isation. 

I  have  called  it  the  disease  of  the  age. 
This  is  by  no  means  to  assert  that  worry 
is  not,  when  widely  defined,  a  disease  of 
every  age.  But  if  we  consider  the 
psychologi  cal  condition — self -conscious- 
ness— upon  which  the  possibiUty  of 
worry  depends,  we  shall  see  that,  as 
2 — 225 


evolution  advances,  as  man  becomes 
more  civilised  and  more  thoughtful,  as 
he  comes  to  live  less  in  the  present,  more 
in  the  past,  and  yet  more  in  the  future, 
as  his  nervous  system  undergoes  a  higher 
organisation,  becomes  more  delicate  and 
sensitive — in  a  word,  as  man  becomes 
more  self-conscious  and  therefore  more 
human,  so  he  becomes  more  liable  to  that 
disease  of  the  mind  which  is  certainly 
unique  in  this  respect,  that,  alone  of  all 
human  diseases,  there  is  no  analog}'  to  it 
whatever  in  the  case  of  any  of  the  lower 
animals. 

Every  access  of  civilisation  increases 
the  importance  of  this  malady.  Print- 
ing must  have  multiplied  it  a  hundred- 
fold; cities,  with  their  pace  and  their 
competition  and  their  foul  air,  have  done 
the  like — and  we  are  all  becoming  citi- 
fied, if  not  civilised  to-day.  I  wTite  not 
for  the  easy-going  bucolic  who,  happy 
fellow,  takes  no  thought  for  the  morrow, 
realising  that  sufficient  unto  the  day  are 
the  evil  and  the  good  thereof;  nor  do  I 
write  for  any  other  whom  the  s\A'irling 
tide  of  the  evolutionary  struggle  has 
passed  by,  to  lead  a  quiet  life — quiet  but 
insignificant  for  the  future  of  the  race — 
far  from  the  madding  crowd.  I  write 
for  those  to  whom  the  struggle  for  exist- 
ence is  a  stem  necessity — those  who 
have  others  dependent  upon  them;  those 
who  fear  forty  and  grey  hair  and  death 
and  consumption  and  cancer;  and,  be- 
yond all  these,  "the  dread  of  something 
after  death."  And  I  submit  that  worr}' 
is  pre-eminently  the  disease  of  this  age 
and  of  this  ci^^lisation,  and  perhaps  of 
the  English-speaking  race  in  particular. 

We  do  well  to  be  "strenuous";  we  do 
well  to  "strive  and  agonise";  we  do  well 
to  know  the  discontent  that  is  divine, 
that  precious  seed  of  insurrection,  of 
which  all  progress  is  the  fruit.  We  do 
well  to  think  of  the  morrow.  Far  be  it 
from  me  to  suggest  that  we  should  emu- 


226 


THE    CANADIAN    AL\GAZ1NE 


late  the  modern  Spaniard  or  Greek  or 
Italian.  To  renounce  tiie  struggle  for 
life  is  not  really  to  live,  but  to  vegetate. 
But  we  must  pay  the  pi  ice — and  indeed 
we  are  doing  so. 

Year  by  year,  worry  and  fear  and 
fretting  increase  the  percentage  of  deaths 
that  are  self-iniiicted — surely  the  most 
appalling  of  aU  comments  upon  any 
civilisation.  Year  by  year,  men  and 
women  show  their  need  for  psychic  help 
by  the  invention  of  new  religions,  every 
one  of  which,  in  so  far  as  it  brings  peace 
and  content  of  mind,  has  a  serious  claim 
upon  the  respect  of  the  philosopher. 
Year  by  year,  we  seem  more  steadily  to 
lose  our  fathers'  faith  that  "underneath 
are  the  Everlasting  Arms."  And  we 
turn  to  Christian  Science  and  the  Higher 
Thought  and  Psycho-Therapeutics  and 
Occultism  and  ^laterialism,  or  to  sheer 
Epicureanism  ("Let  us  eat  and  drink, 
for  to-morrow  we  die") — to  arms  that 
are  shortened  and  weak  and  temporal. 

Meanwhile,  all  experts  tell  us  that  the 
struggle  for  existence  is  becoming  too 
severe,  and  is  telling  upon  the  mind  of 
the  race.  In  olden  days  men  fought 
with  their  muscles  or  their  teeth,  directly 
and  indirectly.  The  prizes  of  life  and 
survival  went  to  him  who  had  the  strong- 
est teeth^and  the  most  vigorous  digestion, 
or  to  him  who  was  the  fleetest  or  wiriest. 
Those  who  were  beaten  in  such  compe- 
tition had  indeed  to  do  without  the  lion's 
share.  But  a  beaten  muscle  is  merely 
beaten:  it  is  as  good  as  it  was,  and  prob- 
ably better. 

Not  so  with  the  beaten  mind.  Infin- 
itely higher  in  organisation — or  rather 
in  the  organisation  of  the  nervous  system 
on  which  it  depends — the  beaten  mind 
is  much  more  than  beaten:  it  tends  to 
undergo  vitil  injury.  Unlike  a  muscle, 
it  can  recognise  or  brood  over  its  own 
loss  or  disgrace.  "In  ten  years,"  says  a 
prophet  of  e\nl,  "the  hospitals  will  be 
on  the  rates."  He  is  a  Cassandra,  I 
fear — whose  prophecies  came  true.  Yet 
the  death  rate  from  the  filth  diseases  falls 
every  year.  Thank  goodness  our  wise 
fathers  wisely  worried  over  sanitation. 
Every  condition,  however,  which  elimin- 
ates the  physical  in  the  struggle  for  exist- 
ence  merely   increases   the  importance   of 


the  psychical;  for  there  is  no  discharge  in 
that  war.  Hence,  the  more  we  control 
infectious  diseases  and  the  like,  the 
greater  is  the  strain  which  we  throw 
upon  those  psychical  instruments  with 
which  the  struggle  for  life  is  now  waged. 
In  olden  days  some  could  not  stand  the 
physical  strain;  they  had  to  work  long 
hours  for  poor  gain  and  early  graves. 
Nowadays  many  cannot  stand  the  psych- 
ical strain.  They  are  injured  partly 
by  fatigue,  partly  by  worry.  //  is  a 
proved  and  accented  physiological  truth 
that  the  adult  is  much  more  gravely  in- 
jured by  worry  than  by  fatigue.  Hence 
our  nerve  doctors  are  kept  busy.  Hence 
the  incessant  discovery  of  new  nervous 
diseases. 

Of  these,  two  explanations  are  pos- 
sible. One  is,  that  observers  in  the  past 
were  not  acute  and  skillful  enough  to 
detect  them.  But  this  is  on  the  face  of  it 
incredible.  Men  of  the  stamp  of  Syden- 
ham had  trained  powers  of  clinical  ob- 
servation which  probably  no  physician 
of  the  present  day  can  rival.  On  the 
contrary,  it  is  generally  admitted  that 
the  introduction  of  new  (and  immensely 
important)  methods  into  medicine,  such 
as  all  those  which  depend  upon  the  dis- 
covery of  microbes,  has  gravely  tended 
to  lessen  our  skill  in  clinical  observation. 
The  only  reasonable  explanation  of  these 
new  nervous  diseases  is  that  they  are 
new.  I  beUeve  that  on  this  point  Dr. 
Max  Nordau  is  undoubtedly  correct. 
Their  victims  represent  the  consequences 
to  society  and  to  the  individual  of  the 
increasing  strain  to  which  the  ner\-ous 
organisation  of  men  is  now  subjected. 
And  I  repeat  that  the  general  truth,  long 
recognised  by  wise  men,  that  nothing 
kills  so  surely  as  care,  has  now  received 
physiological  confirmation.  These  pa- 
tients are  not  the  victims  of  over-work 
as  such.  I  very  much  question  whether 
mere  mental  over-work  ever  killed  or 
injured  anybody.  Amid  the  chaos  of 
error  and  fallacy  which  embodies  the 
popular  conception  of  insanity — as  of 
all  other  subjects — we  may  find  a  fairly 
definite  impression  that  mental  "over- 
work" is  the  cause  of  much  insanity  and 
premature  decay.  Now  let  me  assert,  as 
dogmatically  as  words  will  permit,  that 


WORRY— THE    DISEASE    OF    THE    AGE 


!22'; 


this  is  the  most  arrant  nonsense,  un- 
supported by  facts  or  logic.  The  case  is 
simply  not  so.  Do  you  beg  to  differ? 
Well,  look  up  any  text-book  on  insanity, 
or  neurology,  or  make  arrangements  for 
studying  the  facts  of  asylums;  thereafter 
you  will  agree  with  what  is  not  an  in- 
dividual opinion  of  mine,  but  a  simple 
statement  of  scientific  truth.  Brain-work 
— as  such — never  killed  or  harmed  any- 
body. Brain-work  in  a  stuffy  room  will 
kill  you  of  tuberculosis;  brain-work  plus 
worry  has  killed  thousands;  brain-work 
plus  worry  plus  insomnia  many  thou- 
sands more;  but  if  the  brain-work  had 
been  omitted  the  impure  air  or  the  worry- 
and  the  consequent  loss  of  sleep  would 
have  had  just  the  same  result.  If  you 
are  prepared  to  believe  a  simple  asser- 
tion that  you  hear  or  read  this  year,  pray 
believe  me.  for  this  is  a  matter  of  per- 
sonal, national  and  planetary  conse- 
quence, as  we  shall  see. 

I  have  passed  from  nervous  disease, 
as  ordinarily  understood,  to  insanity,  but 
surely  it  scarcely  needs  to  be  said  at  this 
time  of  day  that  the  transition  is  merely 
from  one  part  of  the  same  subject  to 
another.  Mental  disease,  in  a  word,  is 
physical  disease  or  nervous  disease, 
and  there  is  no  mental  disease  that  is 
not.  If  obscure  paralysis  and  losses  of 
muscular  control  or  muscular  co-ordina- 
tion are  increasing,  so  also,  it  must  un- 
fortunately be  admitted,  are  diseases  of 
the  mind  as  that  term  is  usually  under- 
stood. For  some  years  I  have  tried  to 
do  my  share  in  attempting  to  relieve  the 
public  mind  on  this  score.  To  infer 
that  insanity  was  increasing,  merely  be- 
cause the  number  of  the  certified  insane 
was  increasing,  and  increasing  out  of 
proportion  to  the  national  increase  of 
the  population,  was  a  worthless  argu- 
ment. A  great  measure  of  the  appar- 
ent increase  of  insanity  is  only  apparent 
— due  to  the  fact  that  a  larger  proportion 
of  the  insane  are  nowadays  certified  as 
such  and  treated  in  asylums  or  homes. 
This  results  partly  from  increased  public 
confidence  in  such  places,  partly  from 
the  increase  in  all  varieties  of  accommo- 
dation. But,  even  when  these  consider- 
ations are  fully  allowed  for,  it  appears  to 
be    certain    that    insanitv    is    increasins: 


among.st  us.  Recent  articles  on  this  sub- 
ject in  the  Times  have  drawn  very  neces- 
sary attention  to  this  subject.  How, 
then,  are  we  to  account  for  the  "growth 
of  insanity"?  And  even  if  it  be  not 
growing,  it  is  by  universal  admission  pre- 
eminently a  disease  of  civiHsation,  and 
is  already  formidable  enough  in  all 
conscience. 

Unquestionably  we  must  recognise  that 
insanity  is  in  no  small  measure  a  con- 
sequence or  symptom  cf  what  I  have 
called  the  disease  of  the  age.  But,  with- 
out emphasising  the  obvious,  I  would  pass 
on  to  consider  those  many  causes  of  mental 
disorder  which  are  not  commonly  looked 
upon  or  treated  as  cases  of  insanity. 
The  medical  profession  knows  these  as 
"borderland  cases."  They  exhibit  neither 
sanity  nor  insanity  as  these  terms  are 
generally  understood,  but  furnish  li\-ing 
instances  of  the  absurd  fallacy  which 
leads  us  to  imagine  that  men  can  be 
classified,  like  cheeses,  into  this  brand  and 
that.  Between  complete  sanity  and  com- 
plete insanity  there  are  all  conceivable 
stages,  and  of  all  such  stages  many  in- 
stances everj'where — whereas  probably 
of  complete  sanity  or  complete  insanity 
it  would  be  difficult  to  find  ten  specimens 
in  as  many  years.  The  most  that  can  be 
said  of  many  of  us  is,  as  Stevenson  puts  it, 
"Ever}^  man  has  a  sane  spot  somewhere." 
The  recognition  of  these  borderland  cases 
and  of  the  problem  which  they  present  is 
urgently  required  by  society;  that  their 
number  is  increasing,  and  rapidly,  I 
suppose  no  one  would  dream  of  question- 
ing. Without  any  desire  to  magnify  my 
office  or  to  seek  for  simple  but  false 
explanations,  I  am  willing  to  assert  that 
worr}^,  directly  and  indirectly,  plays  an 
enormous  and  constantly  increasing  part 
in  the  production  of  these  cases. 

Yery  commonly  worry  acts  indirectly. 
The  unfortunate  seeks  to  drown  his  care 
in  drink,  to  stifle  it  with  morphia  or  to 
transmute  it  with  cocaine.  A  note- 
worthy fact  of  the  day  is  the  lamentable 
increase  of  self-drugging,  not  only  amongst 
men  but  also  amongst  women — the 
mothers  of  the  race  that  is  to  be.  Alcohol 
and  morphia  and  cocaine,  sulphonal, 
trional,  and  even  paraldehyde;  these 
and  manv  other  drugs  are  now  readilv — 


228 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


far  too  readily — accessible  for  the 
relief  of  worry  and  of  that  sleeplessness 
which,  as  a  symptom  of  worry  and  as  a 
link  in  the  chain  of  lamentable  events 
to  which  worry  leads,  must  hereafter  be 
carefully  dealt  with.  These  are  friends 
of  the  falsest,  one  and  all,  as  none  know 
better  than  their  victims.  Hence  border- 
land cases,  misery,  suicide  and  death 
incalculable.  There  are  no  causes  of 
worry  so  potent  as  foolish  means  for 
relieving  it. 

As  the  belief  in  dogmatic  religion 
undergoes  that  decline  which,  whether 
for  good  or  for  evil,  is  unquestionably 
characteristic  of  our  time,  the  importance 
of  worr}'  increases.  A  recent  writer  has 
shown  how  the  increase  in  suicide  is 
correlated  with  religious  belief  and  dis- 
belief. In  European  countries  the  pro- 
portion of  suicide  is  least  where  the 
Greek  and  Roman  Catholic  Churches 
prevail,  and  highest  amongst  the  Protest- 
ants. The  number  in  Paris,  as  compared 
with  those  in  all  France,  is  enormous — 
"the  irrehgious  city  in  a  partially  religious 
countr}'.  Italy  and  Spain  are  examples 
of  less  suicide  in  countries  where  Roman 
Catholicism  yet  holds  her  own,  but  Italy 
has  begun  to  think,  while  Spain  remains 
priest-trammelled,  and,  therefore,  the 
Italian  average  is  twice  as  high.  Ger- 
many and  Switzerland,  having  very  high 
numbers,  may  indicate  the  mental  unrest 
in  countries  where  two  religions  clash. 

"Protestantism — a  term  here  inclusive 
of  Lutheran,  Calvinist,  and  other  forms — 
invariably  has  a  high  number  as  com- 
pared with  Greek  and  Roman  Catholic 
churches;  this  probably  points  to  the 
dark  and  hopeless  Calvinistic  principle  of 
predestination,  and  also  to  the  need  of 
guidance  in  mental  disquietude,  the  divine 
touch  of  human  sympathy,  of  which  every 
soul  at  some  time  is  in  need,  being  met, 
more  or  less  well,  by  the  system  of  con- 
fession."* 

But  the  increase  of  suicide  is  merely 
the  most  complete  and  important  result 
of  the  decline  of  dogmatic  religion  as  an 
antidote  to  worry.  Many  lives  are  blight- 
ed by  doubt  or  sorrow  or  fear  for  which, 
500  years  ago,  the  Church  would  have 

♦Miss  C.  F.  Yonge,  in  the  International 
Journal  Ethics. 


provided  a  remedy.  Hence  it  is  un- 
questionably true  that  the  consequences 
of  worry,  both  as  an  individual  and  a 
social  phenomenon,  become  more  apparent 
as  men  tend  to  pass  further  and  further 
from  beliefs  and  practices — such  as  private 
and  family  prayer — against  which  worry 
has  been  powerless  to  prevail  in  times 
past. 

The  consequences  of  worry  in  relation 
to  ordinary  physical  disease  are  familiar 
to  every  physician.  Not  a  few  non- 
infectious diseases  are  known  which  seem 
frequently  to  be  predisposed  to  by 
worry.  Amongst  these  are  gout,  diabetes, 
and  a  certain  form  of  goitre.  My  friend 
Dr.  Schofield  is  of  opinion  that  worry 
about  cancer,  in  any  particular  site,  may 
actually  determine  its  occurrence  there; 
but  personally  I  am  unable  to  share  this 
opinion. 

Directly  we  turn,  however,  to  infectious 
diseases,  the  fac^s  are  seen  to  be  evident 
and  indisputable.  All  kinds  of  infection 
which  depend  upon  lowering  of  the 
standard  of  general  health  are  unques- 
tionably predisposed  to  by  worn,'.  We 
know  now  that  in  the  case  of  such  a 
disease  as  consumption  the  microbe  is 
encountered  by  every  one.  Those  pass 
on  unscathed  who  can  resist  it.  That 
the  bodily  resistance  is  definitely  affected 
by  the  state  of  mind — and  notably,  in 
the  case  of  nurses  and  doctors,  for  in- 
stance, by  the  fear  of  infection — no  one 
who  is  acquainted  with  the  facts  can  for  a 
moment  question.  In  other  words,  worry- 
about  disease  is  a  predisposing  cause  of 
disease,  and  so  is  worry  about  anything 
whatever.  It  is  the  repeated  lesson  of 
experience  that,  other  things  being  equal, 
infectious  disease  tends  to  seize  upon 
those  who  fear  it  and  to  pass  over  those 
who  keep  their  flag  flying.  The  nurse  or 
doctor  or  relative  who  knows  that  the 
disease  is  infectious,  and  who  has  always 
feared  its  name,  does,  in  point  of  fact, 
more  frequently  succumb  than  he  or  she 
who  takes  no  thought  for  self  at  all. 

As  a  direct  cause  of  the  kinds  of  nerv- 
ous disease  which  we  call  functional, 
worry  is,  of  course,  all  important.  Many 
people  cannot  sleep  because  they  worry 
about  their  inability  to  sleep.  The  more 
vigorously  such  persons  set  themselves  to 


WORRY— THE    DISEASE    OF   THE   AGE 


22» 


coax  sleep — meanwhile  becoming  more 
apprehensive  of  failure — the  more  likely 
does  failure  become.  The  case  is  notori- 
ously the  same  with  nervous  dyspepsia. 
Indeed,  any  part  or  function  of  one's  body 
is  apt  to  become  disordered  if  we  pay  it  too 
much  attention.  The  higher  part  of  the 
nervous  system,  that  which  is  associated 
with  consciousness,  is  wise  when  it  leaves 
the  lower  levels  to  do  their  own  business 
in  their  own  way. 

Hysteria  in  all  its  many  forms  seems  to 
be  increasing,  and  worry  is  one  of  its  most 
potent  causes.  The  patient  has  lost  his 
or  her  power  of  volition.  As  Sir  James 
Paget  puts  it:  ''The  patient  says  I  cannot; 
her  friends  say  she  will  not;  the  truth 
IS  she  cannot  will."  In  other  words,  she 
has  lost  her  self-confidence.  But  space 
does  not  at  present  avail  for  consider- 
ing, at  this  moment,  the  value  of  self- 
confidence  as  an  attribute  of  self-con- 
sciousness. Suffice  it  to  observe  that 
worry  and  self-confidence  cannot  co-exist. 

If  proof  of  the  power  of  the  mind  in 
relation  to  hysteria  and  all  forms  of 
functional  nervous  disease  be  desired, 
the  mere  progress  of  Christian  Science 
will  provide  it.  Christian  Science,  which 
we  must  afterwards  discuss,  is  increasing 
and  is  even  threatening,  as  Mark  Twain 
declares,  to  become  the  dominant  religion, 
because  it  meets  a  real  need.  It  teaches 
that  to  worry  and  to  fear  must  be  attrib- 
uted all  the  ills  that  flesh  is  heir  to. 
And  this  is  true  of  such  an  amazing  pro- 
portion of  these  ills  that  Christian  Science 
cures  them.  The  religion  that  has  this 
kind  of  survival  value  will  survive,  and 
is  quite  independent  of  the  good  luck 
which,  I  for  one,  wish  it.  That  the  thing 
must  be  purged  of  quackery  and  of  the 
lies  with  which  it  abounds  is  certainly 
true,  but  this  must  not  blind  us  to  a 
recognition  of  the  great  truth  which, 
however  unworthily  Christian  Science 
enshrines  it,  assuredly  is  as  true  as  it  was 
nineteen  hundred  years  ago,  "Thy  faith 
hath  made  thee  whole."  That  there  is 
or  may  be  a  true  religion,  though  I  am 
a  professed  student  of  science,  I  do 
assuredly  believe.  Such  a  true  religion 
will  recognise,  as  religion  ever  has  recog- 
nised with  less  or  greater  admixture  of 


Tlie  relations  of  religion  and  worry  are 
most  singular  and  striking.  The  true 
religion  and  the  truths  perceived  by 
present  and  past  religions  are  cures  of 
worry  and  preventives  of  its  consequences. 
On  the  other  hand,  many  religions  have 
been  causes  of  worry,  laying  stress  upon 
the  sinfulness  of  sin,  of  the  doctrine  of 
future  punishment,  and  immeasurably 
increasing  the  fear  of  death. 

Human  life  is  worth  living,  not  in 
virtue  of  great  discoveries  or  empires  or 
banking  accounts,  or  armies  or  navies  or 
cities.  "Only  in  the  consciousness  of 
individuals  is  the  worth  of  life  experienc- 
ed." It  may  do  for  the  ants  and  the  bees  to 
achieve  mere  social  eflaciency,  but  this,  as 
such,  is  nothing  in  the  eyes  of  self-con- 
scious man.  In  the  words  of  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence,  "Every  man  is 
entitled  to  life,  liberty  and  the  pursuit  of 
happiness."  When  one  dares  to  mention 
happiness  as  the  end  of  life,  foolish  people 
commonly  speak  as  if  one  were  thinking 
of  race-courses  or  low  music-halls,  or  wine, 
or  worse.  But  the  word  happiness,  as 
used  in  the  Bible  and  other  classics,  has 
no  such  low  meaning.  There  is  no 
human  end  but  happiness,  high  or  low. 
Its  one  absolute  negation  is  neither 
poverty  nor  ill-health  nor  material  fail- 
ure, nor  yet  starvation — "he  that  is 
of  a  merry  heart  hath  a  continual 
feast."  The  one  absolute  negation  of 
happiness  is  worry  or  discontent.  A 
prosperous  society,  consisting  of  stren- 
uous, worried  business  men  who  have  no 
time  to  play  with  their  children  or  listen 
to  great  music  or  gaze  upon  the  noble  face 
of  the  sky  or  commune  with  the  soul  from 
which  we  have  quoted,  and  of  which 
another  poet,  Wordsworth,  said  that  it 
was  "like  a'  star  and  dwelt  apart" — such 
a  society  may  be  as  efficient  as  a  beehive, 
as  large  as  London,  and  as  wealthy,  but  it 
stultifies  its  own  ends,  and  would  be  better 
not  at  all.  "Better  is  an  handful  with 
quietness  than  both  the  hands  full  with 
travail  and  vexation  of  spirit." 

Such,  in  brief,  are  the  main  consequences 
of  worry  which,  in  a  word,  is  the  negation 
of  all  that  makes  life  worth  living.  As 
I  believe  that  life  is  worth  living,  or  may 
be,  I  propose  to  consider  the  matter  fur- 
ther hereafter. 


I 


falsity,  that  faith  is  a  supreme  power. 

{The  Second  Article  of  this  Series  will  Appear  in  the  February   Canadian  Magazine'^. 


The  Grim  Irony  of  Luck 


Bv  PERCEVAL  GIBBON 


HROUGHOUT  the  brief 
afternoon,  from  the  time  that 
the  troops  opened  fire  on  the 
people  till  the  cold  night  of 
Russian  winter  smothered 
the  fighting,  Pavel  had  nurtured  a  fanatic 
enthusiasm.  He  was  of  the  fair  breed 
that  is  by  instinct  law-abiding,  a  youth  of 
the  slow  Gothic  stem,  long-suffering 
and  thorough,  and  it  needed  the  barri- 
cades in  the  streets,  the  doors  torn  out, 
the  sledges  overturned,  the  songs  and 
the  shouting,  to  fire  him  to  the  point  of 
fighting  against  the  liver}^  of  authority. 
The  taint  of  rebellion  that  ran  like  a 
quick  flame  through  the  universities 
of  Russia  had  furnished  him  only  with 
a  creed  and  a  bundle  of  phrases — it 
needed  action  to  inform  him  with  faith. 
He  stood,  panting  and  blinking,  at  the 
mouth  of  an  alley,  into  which  he  had 
been  forced  when  a  sally  of  Cossacks 
drove  a  lane  through  the  mob.  He 
was  realising  the  day's  work,  driving 
his  dazed  brain  back  to  its  normal  pro- 
cesses. His  right  hand  was  tingling, 
and  he  peered  at  it  in  the  shadow  of  the 
alley — the  crutch  of  it  was  black  and 
burned  with  the  back-spit  of  his  cheap 
revolver.  Half  the  buttons  were  gone 
from  his  student's  uniform,  and  his  cap 
was  missing  too. 

He  laughed  suddenly  at  the  con- 
trast of  his  small  troubles  with  those 
of  the  men  and  women  whose  bodies  lay 
at  that  moment  huddled  about  the 
streets.  There  were  some  not  a  dozen 
feet  from  him.  The  Cossacks  had  passed 
that  way  and  the  dragoons,  slashing 
feverishly  at  a  mob  which,  for  once, 
fought  back.  There  had  been  some 
saddles  emptied,  Pavel  remembered,  with 
a  return  of  exultation.  He  had  seen  one 
oflScer's  fair  head  very  clearly  over  the 
sights  of  his  revolver,  and  it  had  been  a 
good,  thrilling,  clean  shot. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  he  heard 
the  voice,  whining  with  a  querulous 
note,  very  like  the  whimper  of  a  chained 

230 


dog.  It  came  from  among  those  still 
citizens  who  lay  in  the  road,  stark  black 
against  the  snow.  Pavel  reconnoitred. 
From  a  far  quarter  beyond  the  houses 
there  was  yet  the  noise  of  war,  the  dis- 
tant clatter  of  shod  hoofs  on  cobbles, 
shots  and  screams,  but  this  road  was 
clear.  He  adjusted  his  revolver  in  his 
side  pocket  to  be  handy  if  he  needed  it, 
and  moved  over  towards  the  voice. 
He  stepped  gingerly  over  a  dead  woman, 
who  sprawled  with  hands  that  clutched 
at  the  snow,  and  foimd  his  man.  It 
was  very  dark,  for  the  street  lamps  were 
all  broken,  and  at  first  he  could  only 
see  that  the  man,  throttling  his  groans 
to  a  whine,  was  struggling  to  rise  on  his 
elbow.     Dead  bodies  were  all  around. 

"Have  courage,  brother,"  said  Pavel, 
kneeling  beside  him. 

The  wounded  man  gasped  an  oath 
and  fell  back  on  the  snow. 

It  was  some  quality  in  the  voice, 
perhaps,  or  possibly  a  mere  precaution, 
that  drove  the  student  to  lean  closer 
and  look  well.  He  made  out  a  white, 
aquiline  face,  no  older  than  his  own, 
but  it  was  not  this  that  held  him.  The 
shoulder-straps  on  the  long  coat  were 
of  heavy  gold,  a  broad  scabbard  was 
slung  from  the  belt.  It  was  a  soldier, 
this  groaner;  more,  it  was  an  oflScer. 
Pavel  started  back  sharply,  divided  be- 
tween instinctive  terror  and  honest  hatred. 
He  could  never  have  told  which  was  the 
stronger.  He  was  staring  dumbly  at 
the  man  on  the  ground,  and  then  he 
realised,  with  another  start  and  a  strange 
shrinking,  that  the  man  was  smiling. 

"I  cannot  hurt  you,"  he  heard,  in  a 
voice  which  still  ran  chill  with  easy  con- 
tempt. "Just  now  I  am  harmless.  So 
have  courage  yourself." 

It  tailed  off  into  a  groan.  Pavel  could 
see  well  enough  now,  and  he  watched  the 
handsome  face  knit  in  a  spasm  of  agony. 

"Where  are  you  hit?"  he  asked,  as  he 
began  to  recover  himself. 

"Neck,"   snapped   the   other.     It   was 


THE    CiKI.M    IRONY   OF    LUCK 


231 


0(1(1  to  note  the  .shiir|)  irritation  that 
armed  the  weak  voice — like  the  threshing 
of  a  boxed  snake. 

"Get  a  doctor,"  he  continued,  "or  go 
and  tell  my  sergeant.  I  shall  die  if  T 
lie  here." 

Pavel  was  squatting  back  on  his  heels, 
and  he  shook  his  head  decisively. 

"No,"  he  said  caknly.  "I  will  help 
you  if  I  can  do  it  at  no  danger  to  myself, 
but  I  will  not  show  myself  to-night 
either  to  a  doctor  or  your  sergeant.  Do 
you  not  see  I  am — I  am " 

"Ah!  you  are  one  of  them!"  The 
young  officer  turned  his  h(  ad  with  an 
effort  and  Icjoked  up  at  him.  "Perhaps 
it  was  you  that  shot  me,  eh?" 

Pavelnodded.  "  Perhaps," he  answered. 

"Well,"  said  the  other,  "if  you  leave 
me  here  as  I  am  you  will  have  killed  me 
— and  not  in  open  fight.  Does  that 
appeal  to  you  at  all  ?  It  will  be  a  murder. 
But  possibly  you  do  not  draw  the  line  at 
murder?  You  gentlemen  of  the  barri- 
cades are  not  troubled  wth  scruples,  I 
believe." 

"Now,  look  here,"  said  Pavel.  "When 
you  call  us  murderers  you  lie.  If  you 
think  that  men  who  see  the  light " 

The  other  interrupted  acidly: 

"Oh,  look  round  you,  man!"  he  cried 
feebly,  but  with  spirit  enough.  Pavel 
stared,  but  there  w^as  compulsion  in 
the  miere  tone,  and  he  looked  about  un- 
comprehendingly.  There  was  nought  but 
the  naked  snow  on  the  empty  street, 
the  dark  houses,  and  the  unresentful 
bodies  of  the  dead. 

"Well?"  demanded  the  wounded  man, 
"is  that  a  theatre  for  your  speechifving? 
Can  you  do  nothing  but  babble  on  such 
a  night  as  this?  By  the  Lord,  I  don't 
wonder  some  of  you  are  hard  to  con- 
vince!    Such  stupidity!     Oh,  my  neck!" 

He  groaned  frankly,  withholding  none 
of  the  torment  that  racked  him,  and  his 
extremity  stirred  Pavel  to  aid.  His 
head  w^as  clear  enough.  He  w^ould  not 
invite  scorn  with  talk.  He  could  do 
something  to  serve  the  moment's  need. 

"Listen!"  he  said.  "You  can  have 
no  doctor,  or  I  should  hang  to-morrow. 
Don't  trouble  to  offer  your  word.  I 
shouldn't  take  it.  But  I  can  take  you  to 
a  room  and  a  bed,  if  vou  wish.     What 


comes  after  must  arrange  itself.  The 
alternative  is  to  lie  here — and  freeze. 
Which  will  you  have?" 

"How  will  you  take  me?"  asked  the 
officer. 

Pavel  rose  to  his  feet  and  bent  over 
him.  "  Like  this,"  he  said,  and  lifted  him 
easily.  The  wounded  man  bit  on  a  cry 
of  pain,  and  suddenly  his  slender  body 
became  limp  in  the  student's  arms.  He 
had  fainted. 

It  was  not  far  to  the  room.  None 
accosted  them  on  the  way.  The  dead 
and  the  maimed  were  commonplaces  of 
the  street  in  those  days,  and,  for  certain 
reasons  of  which  Pavel  was  aware,  the 
door  of  the  house  was  unwatched  by  a 
dvomik.  He  laid  his  burden  on  the 
bed  and  dragged  off  his  boots.  As  he  got 
ready  the  brandy  to  restore  him  he  took 
a  good  look  at  his  captive. 

The  wounded  man  was  very  young. 
Pavel  saw  his  boyishness  with  a  wise  pity, 
not  reflecting  that  he  himself  lacked  a 
month  or  two  of  twenty-one.  He  wore 
the  uniform  of  an  officer  of  dragoons, 
beautifully  laced,  and  his  spurs  were 
obvious  silver.  There  was  a  foppishness 
in  the  tunic's  cut  that  somehow  was  not 
ridiculous.  The  clear-cut  young  face, 
obtruding  caste  and  high-bree(iing  in 
every  line,  was  such  that  luxury  seemed 
appropriate  to  its  setting.  As  the  brandy 
stung  his  tliroat  the  eyes  opened.  He 
came  from  his  swoon  to  all  his  faculties 
at  one  step.  He  surveyed  the  poor 
little  room  with  its  coarse  furnishings 
lonely  amid  its  bareness,  with  a  kind  of 
complacent  amusement. 

""\\Tiose  room  is  this?"  he  asked 
presently. 

Pavel  put  the  brandy  on  the  table,  and 
sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed. 

"It  was  the  room  of  one  Stepan  Duraf," 
he  replied.  "He  was  cut  down  by  your 
dragoons  this  afternoon,  so  none  will 
know^  that  you  he  in  his  bed," 

"But  the  dvomik?"  asked  the  officer. 
For  a  dvomik  watches  every  door  in 
Russia — he  is  the  policeman  on  each 
threshold. 

"The  dvomik  also  died,"  explained 
Pavel.  "Stepan  shot  him  at  tw^o  o'clock. 
So,  you  see,  I  am  safe." 

The   wounded   man   smiled.     "I   sup- 


232 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


pose  you  won't  tell  me  your  name?"  he 
suggested. 

"Naturally  not,"  answered  the  student. 
"  I  am  taking  risks  enough  as  it  is.  What 
is  yours?" 

"If  you  will  get  my  cigarette  case  out, 
there  are  cards  in  it." 

Pavel  complied. 

"Thanks!"  continued  the  other.  "Here 
you  are  then." 

Pavel  carried  the  pasteboard  over  to 
the  lamp.  "Prince  Constantine  Obrie- 
vitch,"  he  read  aloud.  He  looked  over 
to  the  officer. 

"I  never  met  a  Prince  before,"  he  said 
simply. 

The  Prince  laughed.  "The  introduc- 
tion is  not  complete,"  he  said.  "It  is 
one-sided.  It  is  like  being  presented 
to  a  royalty.  You  hear  your  own  name 
but  never  that  of  the  High  ^Mightiness. 
You  might  be  the  Tsar.  And,  do  you 
know,  I  think  my  wound  is  thawed.  It's 
bleeding." 

Pavel  came  over  to  him  quickly. 
"If  I  were  the  Tsar,  I  suppose  you'd 
simply  have  to  bleed,"  he  said.  "As  it 
is,  I  can  probably  do  something." 

He  worked  with  bandages  over  the 
hideous  wound  in  •  the  neck,  while  the 
Prince  groaned  and  strove  to  still  his 
shuddering. 

"Nasty  place  to  be  hit — the  neck," 
he  said  faintly,  when  the  thing  was  done. 
"There  are  all  kinds  of  arteries  in  it  and 
such  things,  and  the  bullet's  still  there, 
some^\here.  I  say,"  he  continued,  in 
a  tone  of  anxiety  and  remonstrance, 
"couldn't  you  manage  to  get  a  doctor  here 
somehow?" 

Pavel  shook  his  head.  "You  ask  too 
much,"  he  said.  "You  don't  under- 
stand the  matter.  You're  a  Prince, 
and  walk  where  you  please.     I'm  not." 

He  was  fumbling  in  a  little  cupboard 
as  he  spoke,  and  now  he  turned  with  some 
black  bread  in  his  hand. 

"This  should  have  been  Stepan's 
supper,"  he  remarked.  "It  will  serve  for 
us.  Stepan  would  never  have  grudged 
it.  He  was  a  good  sort.  AVill  you  have 
some?" 

The  Prince  refused.  "Well,"  said 
Pavel,  "I   will,   at   any  rate.     This  and 


the   brandy   and   a   dice-box — there   was- 
nothing  else  in  the  cupboard." 

He  sat  do\\7i  on  the  bed  again  and 
commenced  to  eat. 

"  Dice  ?  "  queried  the  Prince. 

"Yes,"  said  Pavel.  "Stepan  was  fond 
of  the  dice.  Last  night  he  threw  three 
casts,  his  left  hand  against  his  right, 
for  the  dvomik's  Ufe.  The  right  hand 
won.     Thus  he  shifted  his  responsibility." 

He  went  on  eating.  The  Prince  watch- 
ed him,  and  a  sparkle,  as  of  hope  or  fun 
or  maHce,  ht  his  eyes. 

"You  think  the  responsibility  was 
really  shifted?"  he  asked  at  length. 

"Why  not?"  said  Pavel.  "Here  was 
a  life  at  stake,  and  God  looking  on.  Do 
sparrows  fall  by  chance?  Why,  then, 
should  the  dice  or  the  dvornik  fall  for- 
tuitously?" 

"Well,"  said  the  Prince,  deliberately, 
"I  will  play  you  for  my  life.  Your  re- 
sponsibility is  not  less  than  your  friend's. 
Do  you  also  shift  it  ?  " 

Pavel  ceased  eating.  "I  don't  under- 
stand you,"  he  said. 

"Look  at  it  sensibly,"  urged  the  Prince. 
His  voice  was  already  stronger.  "I 
am  shot  in  an  ugly  place,  and  I  think  I 
am  going  to  die  of  it.  At  this  moment 
I  am  all  athrill  with  a  fever.  The  bullet 
is  lodged  inside,  in  a  nest  of  vital  parts. 
It  needs  a  doctor  to  pull  me  through — 
it  needs  a  doctor  nou<.  It  may  be  that 
I  ought  to  die — that  I  belong  where  you 
and  your  fellows  have  tried  to  send  me. 
And,  then,  it  is  as  likely  that  you  are  wrong. 
W'ho  is  to  judge?  Will  you  take  such  an 
authority?" 

Pavel  heard  him  in  a!  grave  silence,, 
and,  as  he  stopped,  nodded.  "I  see," 
he  said.  "W^hat  is  to  be  the  arrange- 
ment?" 

"This,"  answered  the  Prince,  with 
a  slow  flush  of  excitement  reddening 
his  face.  "Three  throws  apiece,  aces  to 
count  as  seven  each.  If  I  win,  you  go^ 
out  at  once  and  bring  me  either  a  doctor 
or  my  sergeant.  If  I  lose,  you  do  as  you 
please — stay  here  and  let  things  take 
care  of  themselves.  Fetch  the  dice  and 
throw  first." 

Pavel  sat  for  some  seconds  in  thought. 
"It  is  fair,"  he  said  and  brought  the  dice- 
box.     He  placed  it  on  the  pillow  while 


THE    GRIM    lUONV    OF    LUCK 


233 


he  wheeled  the  table  to  the  bedside,  and 
then  propped  the  Prince's  shoulders  with 
a  folded  coat  so  that  he  might  see  the 
results. 

He  took  the  box,  rattled  it,  and,  with 
an  expert  turn  of  the  wrist,  strewed  the 
three  bone  cubes  forth.  Five,  five,  six — 
sixteen  in  all.  He  pushed  the  six  aside, 
and  collected  the  two  fives  into  the  box. 
Again  he  threw,  and  the  Prince  craned 
in  his  bandages. 

"What  is  it?  What  is  it?"  he  was 
crying. 

Pavel  pushed  the  cubes  nearer  to  him 
with  his  forefinger.  A  six  again  and  a 
four.  The  student  picked  up  the  four 
for  the  final  cast,  and  threw  at  once.  A 
six  again — eighteen  in  all. 

"That  will  be  hard  to  beat,"  said  the 
Prince,  in  a  voice  of  dead  calm.  "You 
must  throw  for  me,  my  friend.  This 
leaning  forward  hurts  me." 

Pavel  threw,  and  two  sixes  and  a  deuce 
were  the  result. 

"Leave  the  sixes,"  said  the  Prince, 
and  Pavel  threw  again  with  one  dice. 
It  was  scarcely  better — a  trey. 

"What  shall  I  pick  up  for  the  last 
throw?"  he  asked.  He  was  quite  calm. 
This  was  a  thing  he  vmderstood. 

"Pick  them  all  up,"  commanded  the 
Prince.  "  Throw  them  all.  Let  the  luck 
speak  at  the  top  of  its  voice  or  not  at  all. 
Throw  me  three  aces." 

Pavel  swept  up  the  cubes,  rattled  them 
well,  and  spilled  them  out  on  the  table. 
The  Prince  was  l>ing  back  looking  at 
the  ceiling,  and  Pavel  stood  without 
speaking. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  the  wounded 
man  at  last. 

"Three  aces,"  said  Pavel  quietly,  "and 
I  hang." 

He  turned  to  the  door  at  once,  and 
the  Prince  lay  watching  him  as  he  went, 
vnth  a  face  of  calm,  unemotional  interest. 
His  heavy  feet  descended  the  stairs,  and 
once  they  hesitated.  The  Prince,  Hsten- 
ing,  smiled.     But  they  went  on. 

Pavel  walked  steadily  through  the 
still  streets,  tracking  the  troops  by  ear. 
He  found  the  dragoons  bivouacked  about 
their  fires  in  the  square  before  the  Gover- 
nor's   palace,    asked    for    the    sergeant, 


delivered  his  message,  and  was  then 
arrested.  He  was  held  for  an  hour  or 
two  among  the  soldiers,  who  offered  him 
vodka  and  stared  not  unkindly  at  this 
live  enemy.  Then,  when  the  guard  was 
changed,  he  was  marched  off  and  regu- 
larly lodged  in  the  gaol.  He  had  com- 
pany enough  there,  for  the  net  had  been 
filled  to  bursting,  and  the  great  stone 
corridors  were  crowded  with  men  from 
whom  the  fever  of  rebellion  had  leaked 
forth,  giving  place  to  the  anguish  of  fear 
and  repentance. 

"Where  did  they  catch  you?"  he 
was  asked,  as  he  was  thrust  in  among 
them. 

"In  the  company  of  Prince  Constan- 
tine  Obrievitch."  he  answered 

"The  gambler?"  queried  someone. 
"The  young  man  who  lost  a  million 
roubles  in  two  nights?" 

"I  believe  so,"  said  Pavel.  "In  fact, 
I  feel  sure  of  it.  But  his  luck  has  changed." 

He  abode  in  the  gaol  for  twelve  weeks. 
He  learned  what  only  a  Russian  gaol  in 
time  of  trouble  can  teach — and  that  is 
not  to  be  written  in  a  story.  From 
time  to  time,  batches  of  the  prisoners 
were  taken  away.  They  had  been  tried 
in  their  absence,  sentenced  behind  their 
backs,  and  now  had  to  face  the  music. 
None  came  back.  Pavel  had  Uttle  curi- 
osity about  his  own  fate.  He  knew  he 
should  achieve  it  soon  enough.  There 
were  dice  in  the  room,  and  he  played 
day  and  night  till  he  lost  his  boots  and 
had  nothing  further  to  stake.  Then 
one  day  a  warder  thrust  in  a  head  and 
called  him  by  name. 

"Only  one,"  wondered  the  others. 
"What  is  the  idea?  Are  they  going 
to  burn  men  alive  that  they  call  them 
one  at  a  time?" 

Pavel  was  led  across  the  courtyard, 
and  as  he  went  he  looked  hard  at  the 
sky.  But  there  was  no  platoon  await- 
ing him,  no  gallows  black  against  the 
snow-clouds.  He  was  conducted  into  the 
Governor's  room,  and  there,  sitting  limp 
in  a  chair,  but  smart  and  imperturbable 
yet,  was  Prince  Constantine. 

The  Prince  nodded  to  him.  "They 
dug  it  out,  you  see,"  he  said.  "You 
were   not   a   minute   too   soon.     I   don't 


234  THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE    . 

know  why,  seeing  it  was  fair  pla}-,  but  to   the   mines.     You   will   be   shot.     It's 

I  have  been  feeling  sorry  for  you."  not    so   bad,  is   it?    And   you    certainly 

"I    have    been    wondering    how   .you  paid  up  Hke  a  gentleman." 

were,"  said  Pavel.  Pavel  bowed  to  him.     "Thank  you," 

The  Prince  smiled.     "More,"  he  went  he     answered     heartily.     "Thank     you. 

on,  "I  have  done  what  I  could  for  you.  You  certainly  \vin  like  a  gentleman." 

You  know  your  sentence  is  to  the  mines  ? "  The    Prince    rose    carefully    from    his 

"I  didn't  know,"  said  Pavel.     He  paled  chair,  and  held  out  his  hand, 

at  the  thought  of  it.  "We  are  well  matched  for  a   game," 

"Yes,"    continued    the    other.     "The  he    said.     "Good-bye,    and    better    luck 

mines,  but  I  didn't  like  the  idea.     I  have  next  time." 

not  much  influence  in  these  matters,  but  Pavel  grinned.     He  sav,-  the  Joke,  and 

I  have  arranged  it  that  vou  will  not  go  took  the  hand  cordiallv. 


The  Four  Winds 

BY  SPENCER   FREER 

"I^7IND  of  the  south,  wind  from  the  southland  kind. 
Blow  soft  and  low  from  out  the  southern  nighi, 
And  kiss  the  flowers,  slumbering  so  light, 
Thev  are  thy  lovers,  beauty  all  enshrined. 
Oh,  springtime  wind! 

Wind  of  the  west,  wind  of  fair  sky  and  plain. 
Blow  clear  and  cool  across  the  heated  land, 
Thine  air  is  tempered  by  the  Mountain  Hand; 

And  welcome  is  thy  breath  to  waving  grain. 
Blow,  summer  wind! 

Wind  of  the  east,  wind  of  the  change  and  sleet, 
W'hich  traileth  winter  in  the  weird  refrain. 
And  bringeth  up  the  storm-cloud  and  the  rain. 

The  last  lone  blackbird  dieth  at  thy  feet. 
Oh,  autumn  wind! 

Wind  of  the  north,  wind  of  the  northern  sky. 

Blow  chill  and  cold  across  the  waste  of  snow, 
Across  the  prairie  land  where  coyotes  go; 

The  wild  geese  scent  thee  and  they  southward  ily. 
Blow,  winter  wind! 


Canada's  Place  in  the  Empire 


By  A.  E.  McPHILLIPS 


HE  growth  of  the  British 
Empire,  made  up  as  it  is  of 
the  British  Isles,  Ireland  and 
the  Dominions  beyond  the 
Seas,  has  been  phenomenal. 
That  which  has  tended  most  to  the  en- 
largement of  its  bounds  has  been  the 
adventurous  spirit  of  the  Anglo-Saxon 
and  Celtic  races,  so  well  combined  in  the 
march  of  progress,  ever  reaching  out  for 
new  fields  of  conquest.  WTierever  the 
flag  has  been  raised  there  has  been 
established  freedom  of  personal  liberty, 
protection  to  property  and  Christian 
civilisation.  In  the  upbuilding  of  this 
world-wide  zone  of  government,  the 
British  Empire  has  now  within  its  confines, 
not  only  millions  of  people,  but  distinct 
nationaUties.  Unquestionably,  national 
imity  and  strength  has  its  mainspring  in 
sentiment  and  tradition.  At  times  it  is 
hurtled  about  that  soon  will  be  seen  the 
dismemberment  of  this  aggregation  of 
nations.  Those  who  know  best  do  not 
hesitate  to  deny,  and  A\ith  emphasis, 
that  there  is  any  well-defined  sentiment 
that  makes  for  separation.  This,  how- 
ever, brings  us  to  the  point  that  I  desire 
to  make;  that  is,  there  must  be  an 
awakening  and  a  realisation  that  the 
Dominions  beyond  the  Seas  must  have 
some  voice  in  the  large  affairs — questions 
of  imperial  importance.  It  is  inconceiv- 
able that  any  subsidiary  place  is  to  be 
taken  or  always  imposed  upon  the  peoples 
that  for  a  time,  perhaps,  were  doomed  to 
be  at  the  outposts  of  the  Empire. 

The  question  is,  How  best  can  the 
change  be  brought  about  and  at  an  early 
date?  Take  Canada's  position  to-day 
with  a  population  of  six  miUions.  Ten 
years  hence  will  see  ten  millions;  and  in 
a  quarter  of  a  century  it  is  not  improbable 
that  the  figure  will  be  twenty  millions. 
Population  alone  is  not  to  circumscribe 
national  aspirations  (witness  the  national 
prominence,  prestige  and  power  of  the 
people  of  the  United  States  when  the 
population    did    not    approach    that    of 

235 


Canada  to-day).  It  cannot  be  expected 
that  the  genius  and  laudable  ambition  of 
the  Canadian  people  will  be  forever 
dwarfed  and  made  secondary  to  that  of 
the  British  subjects  who  reside  in  Great 
Britain  and  Ireland.  This  is  a  matter 
that  must  be  grappled  with.  The  large 
questions  of  empire  must  come  for  settle- 
ment before  the  representatives  of  the 
whole  empire;  and  it  is  for  the  statesmen 
of  the  day  to  devise  the  means  to  accom- 
pUsh  that  great  end. 

It  is  my  opinion  that  there  should  be 
legislative  bodies  for  England,  Scotland, 
Wales,  and  Ireland,  which  would  give 
complete  self-government,  covering  the 
scope  of  legislation  that  we  have  in  Canada 
and  similar  legislative  bodies  throughout 
the  Empire.  This  being  accompHshed, 
there  would  follow  an  Imperial  Parlia- 
ment made  up  of  elected  representatives 
from  all  self-governing  parts  of  the  Em- 
pire; and  this  truly  Imperial  Parliament 
would  deal  with  all  those  great  questions 
of  Imperial  import,  commerce,  treaties, 
peace,  war  and  the  like.  Until  something 
of  this  character  obtains  there  will  always 
be  danger  of  dismemberment.  It  is  not 
in  the  order  of  things  tha  the  present 
self-governing  nations  which  make  up  the 
Empire  will  always  be  contented  as 
things  are  now.  It  cannot  be  gainsaid 
that  to-day  the  Canadian  passing  along 
the  Strand  does  not  hold  the  same  position, 
nor  is  he  the  same  factor  in  the  affairs  of 
the  Empire,  as  the  London  citizen.  This 
should  not  be.  The  British  subject  beyond 
the  Seas  should  have  equality  of  position 
and  equality  of  opportunity  in  all  matters 
appertaining  to  the  Imperial  Government. 
Some  will  say  that  this  view  is  visionary 
and  cannot  become  an  accomplished  fact. 
I  do  not  think  it  impracticable.  It  must 
be  and  is  the  only  reasonable  consumma- 
tion of  the  forces  that  are  now  making  for 
the  consolidation  of  the  Empire.  In  so 
far  as  trade  relationship  is  concerned  to- 
day with  a  policy  of  protection,  we  find 
Chamberlain  the  cvnosure  of  all  colonial 


236 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


eyes;  and  it  is  but  a  part  of  the  whole 
movement  which  must  come  and  must 
be  struggled  with.  Ireland  has  rather 
forced  the  question  that  I  have  here  dis- 
cussed; and  the  situation  there  will  go 
far  to  solve  the  problem,  as,  undoubtedly 
home  rule  will  soon  become  a  jail  accompli. 
The  Unionist  Terrorists,  with  their  cry 
that  home  rule  means  separation,  have  got 
their  quietus.  Mr.  James  Bryce,  the 
Chief  Secretary  for  Ireland,  speaking  to 
his  constituents  in  South  Aberdeen,  said: 
"The  Irish  people  ought  to  get  a  far 
larger  share  of  the  management  of  their 
affairs  to  produce  confidence  in  the  law 
and  make  them  feel  that  the  Government 
of  Ireland  was  their  Government  in  the 
same  sense  as  the  British  Government 
was  the  Government  of  the  British  people." 
That  could  be  safely,  moderately  and 
temperately  done,  and  it  was  for  that  he 
was  going  to  Ireland. 

Then  we  have  Mr.  Haldane,  Secretary 
of  State  for  War,  in  his  address  to  the 
electors  of  Haddingtonshire  (East  Lo- 
thian), saying:  "Under  any  system  of 
government,  the  Irish  people  can  only  be 
ruled,  if  attention  be  paid  to  their  own 
wishes,  and  these  \\nshes  be  allowed  to 
prevail  in  matters  which  do  not  touch  the 
integrity  of  the  Empire.  Such  a  policy 
involves  progressive  development  of  the 
policy  of  devolution  begun  by  Mr.  Gerald 
Balfour  and  by  Mr.  Wyndham.  The 
spirit  and  ideal  of  such  a  policy  is  home 
rule.  For  home  rule  means  the  bringing 
of  the  system  of  Irish  Government  into 
harmony  with  the  wishes  of  the  Irish 
people." 


There  is  no  doubt  that  in  the  granting 
of  home  rule  to  Ireland  questions  will  come 
up  for  consideration  that  will  make  towards 
a  better  conception  of  the  Government 
of  the  Empire  and  for  a  wider  range  of  re- 
sponsibility in  matters  of  Imperial  import. 

What  a  Parliament  of  Parliaments  that 
would  be  at  St.  Stephen's,  made  up  of  rep- 
resentatives from  all  parts  of  the  Empire, 
for  there  should  be  the  meeting-place;  and 
with  the  ease  and  celerity  of  transportation 
present  in  these  days  no  difficulties  of 
distance  stand  in  the  way.  In  this  con- 
nection it  is  somewhat  pertinent  to  the 
matter  under  review  to  recall  the  words 
of  Edmund  Burke:  "My  poor  opinion  is 
that  the  closest  connection  between  Great 
Britain  and  Ireland  is  essential  to  the 
well-being,  I  had  almost  said  to  the  very 
being,  of  the  two  kingdoms.  For  that 
purpose  I  humbly  conceive  that  the  whole 
of  the  superior,  and  what  I  should  call 
Imperial  politics,  ought  to  have  its  resi- 
dence here  (London);  ana  that  Ireland, 
locally,  civilly,  and  commercially  inde- 
pendent, ought,  politically,  to  look  up  to 
Great  Britain  in  all  matters  of  peace  or 
of  war  (A  Letter  on  the  Affairs  of  Ireland, 

^797)- 

Canada  should,  of  course,  not  yield  up 
any  of  her  present  constitutional  powers. 
If  anything,  she  should  even  have  these 
powers  e.xtended;  but,  certainly,  Canada 
should,  as  should  all  other  self-governing 
nations  within  the  Empire,  have  a  \oice 
in  Imperial  politics  and  in  what  should  be 
a  truly  Imperial  Parliament.  Nothing 
short  of  this  would  satisfy  the  genius  of 
the  Canadian  people. 


The  New  Year 


BY    INGLIS    MORSE 


CLOWLY  from  the  steeple,  near, 

I  hear  the  midnight  bell— the  breaking  \ear; 
A  signal  that  the  old  has  passed 
And  given  place  at  last — 
E'er  yet  the  wings  are  furled — 
To  vouth  that  cheers  the  world. 


Education  in  Canada 


By  W.  FRANK  HAT  HEW  AY 


DUCATION  means  a  draw- 
ing out  of  the  faculties  and 
so  evolving  their  powers  that 
students  will  become  the 
very  best  men  and  women. 
We  need  to  be  actors,  and  doers  and 
thinkers,  not  mere  imitators  and  followers. 
The  average  intelligence  can  learn  more 
quickly  by  acting,  doing  and  seeing  things 
done  than  merely  by  hearing  the  details 
of  how  things  are  done.  The  education 
needed  for  the  engineer,  the  architect,  the 
mason,  the  pattern-maker,  the  farmer, 
the  miner,  the  eighty-five  per  cent,  of 
every  country's  population  should  be 
provided  mainly  by  manual  training 
schools,  technical, agricultviral,  and  mining 
schools.  Germany  and  Austria  woke  to 
their  importance  in  i860,  with  the  result 
that  German  manufacturers  are  com- 
peting in  Great  Britain  to  the  anxiety  of 
British   statesmen. 

In  Canada  we  are  lamentably  behind 
the  Austrian  and  the  German.  These 
countries,  although  they  keep  up  enormous 
armies,  think  it  also  wise  to  spend  about 
three  dollars  a  head  for  education,  much  of 
which  is  expended  by  the  state  directly  for 
technical  and  agricultural  schools.  It  is 
estimated  that  thirty  thousand  young 
persons  in  Canada  have  paid  fees  to  a 
Pennsylvania  correspondence  school  since 
1900,  at  a  cost  of  over  $1,000,000.  This 
money  was  paid  into  a  United  States 
school  in  the  hope  of  getting  that 
ver}^  education  which  our  o\ati  Govern- 
ment should  establish  in  every  Province. 
Scores  of  young  men  leave  Canada  ever}' 
year  to  enter  the  splendidly  equipped 
technical  schools  and  colleges  of  the 
United  States,  and  become  experts  in 
mining,  engineering,  etc.  The  fees  go 
to  United  States  teachers  and  the  cost 
of  living  to  United  States  people.  The 
sad  feature  of  this  is  that  it  grad- 
ually turns  the  clever  Canadian  boy  into 
I  an  active  United  States  expert  and  in- 
'  clines  him  to  think  of  Canada  as  a 
pleasant    memory.     I  admire  the   policy 

237 


claimed  by  Sir  Wilfrid  Laurier,  and  often 
expressed  in  his  speeches.  It  is  essentially 
Canadian  in  its  demand  that  "transpor- 
tation lines  must  run  on  Canadian  soil," 
and  that  the  "trade  of  Canada  shall  flow 
only  through  Canadian  ports." 

I  ask  him  to  search  through  the 
British  North  America  Act  and  see  what 
there  is  to  prevent  the  central  Govern- 
ment taking  some  thought  of  the  educa- 
tional future  of  the  Canadian,  so  that 
the  farmer,  the  miner,  the  engineer  and 
the  mechanic  will  have  his  manual  train- 
ing school  and  his  technical  and  agricul- 
tural college  to  fit  him  for  the  fife  contest. 
Spend  fewer  millions  in  the  militia  de- 
partment, and  through  a  minister  of  edu- 
cation spend  proportionally  in  each  Prov- 
ince millions  more  in  technical  education. 
Instead  of  our  people  spending  their 
thousands  in  United  States  correspondence 
schools,  let  the  central  Government  aid 
each  Province  to  provide  technical  high 
schools  to  wliich  the  youth  might  flock. 

Canada,  however,  shows  small  inchna- 
tion  to  establish  herself  on  the  firm  ground 
of  thorough  education.  A  young  country 
of  six  millions  which  has  no  enemy,  which 
needs  no  defence,  only  a  fairly  strong 
mihtia  police,  is  turning  the  people  away 
from  education  and  embarking  on  a 
policy  of  defence,  as  if  war  were  knock- 
ing at  .our  gates.  Little  S^^'itzerland,  which 
spends  three  dollars  a  head  for  education, 
has  to  have  an  army  and  forts,  but  why 
should  we  need  them?  The  Arctic  zone 
on  the  north  bars  out  the  Russian  bear. 
The  ISIonroe  Doctrine  makes  us  safe  on 
the  Pacific  and  Atlantic.  Our  neighbours 
to  the  south  are  our  friends.  We  have  no 
lands  to  conquer,  and  do  not  need  war- 
ships. We  have  no  enemy  to  repel  and 
do  not  need  more  forts.  We  do  need  the 
ordinary  active  mihtia  such  as  we  had  in 
1890  to  1900  to  act  as  police.  Externally 
we  are  safe  and  protected.  Our  expan- 
sion must  be  internal.  We  need  farmers, 
miners  and  mechanics,  and  we  need  good 
ones  who  take  pride  in  their  work  and  who 


238 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


are  skilled.  These  are  more  than  militia 
or  navy,  or  traders  or  professions.  These 
are  the  makers  of  wealth.  They  fashion 
and  form  the  raw  material  of  the  field,  the 
mine  and  the  forest  into  those  commodi- 
ties which  make  up  our  export  trade. 
Let  our  rulers  spend  money  lavishly  for 
the  education  of  these  and  their  children. 
These  are  the  Adamses  and  the  workers 
in  brass,  and  they  demand  education, 
not  education  for  the  physician,  the 
lawyer,  or  the  clergyman,  who  are  but 
the  chips  thrown  up  to  the  high  level 
of  the  tide-drift  on  the  shores  of  labour's 
ocean;  not  the  education  of  languages 
and  of  the  past  history  of  effete  mon- 
archies with  all  their  Wars  of  the  Roses, 
the  Tudors,  the  Stuarts;  not  that  edu- 
cation which  deals  with  dead  sover- 
eigns and  dead  languages,  but  a  live, 
solvent  education  of  the  world  around  us, 
the  natural  world,  the  chemistry  of  the 
earth,  the  physics  of  what  we  feel  and  the 
mathematics  of  what  we  see.  This 
mechanic,  this  industrial  force,  this  worker 
stands  like  the  German  trumpeter.  The 
blast  he  blows  comes  from  knowledge  of 
an  abused  past.  His  trumpet-note  shall 
tximble  down  the  walls  of  prejudice  to 
make  way  for  the  new  Canadian  Technical 
Colleges.  He  cries  aloud,  "In  all  Canada 
there  is  not  one  Technical  College  or 
Institute,  and  only  one  Technical  High 
School,  and  that  is  maintained  by  the  city 
of  Toronto.  Take  then,"  he  says,  "from 
the  millions  we  pay  in  duties  for  militia 
cost,  for  judges  and  parliamentary  salaries, 
take  millions  each  year  and  estabhsh  a 
national  system  of  education  whereby  vv-e 
may  have  technical  schools  and  a'gricul- 
tural  colleges,  so  that  we  could  keep  our 
youth  at  home  and  equip  them  at  all 
points  to  compete  in  Europe  against 
the  skill  of  the  industrial  classes  of  the 
United  States." 

That  is  what  labour,  selfish,  active, 
eager  labour  says  to  the  rulers  and  spend- 
ers of  Canada's  yearly  revenue  of  eighty 
millions  of  dollars.  There  is,  however, 
a  much  higher  grovmd  than  the  mere 
trade  success  on  which  the  industrial 
forces  of  Canada  should  demand  more 
education.  Our  teaching  has  in  the  past 
been  too  formal,  too  much  to  memorise, 
and  too  little  upon  the  development  of 


the  child's  thought.  We  are  awake  to 
this  error,  but  in  our  enthusiasm  may  run 
the  danger  of  developing  all  towards  the 
technical  in  the  useful  arts,  forgetting  that 
the  plough  came  after  earth  and  her  beauti- 
ful forms  were  created,  forgetting  that 
beauty  existed  long  before  utility  was 
known,  that  beauty  is  the  special  need  of 
the  soul,  whereas  utiHty  is  for  the  needs 
of  the  body.  Plato,  who  knew  much,  says 
"that  children  should  have  such  a  plan 
of  teaching  that  they  may  learn  without 
compulsion."  Centuries  before  Froebel 
or  Pestalozzi,  he  said:  "Do  not  force  boys 
to  their  learning,  but  train  them  by  amuse- 
ment, so  that  you  can  better  be  able 
to  discern  the  direction  of  each  one's 
genius." 

In  this  kindergarten,  this  manual 
training,  we  must  give  precedence  to  the 
beauty  of  nature,  for  by  that  we  develop 
the  highest  Canadian.  We  must  be  more 
than  skilled  artificers,  miners  and  farmers. 
By  this  skill  we  may  compete  for  trade, 
which  provides  the  body  with  food,  cloth- 
ing and  comforts.  In  this  we  are  only  a 
little  higher  than  the  animals.  That  is 
what  they  seek — food,  comforts,  shelter. 
That  in  man  which  demands  music,  paint- 
ing and  poetry  is  the  soul  reaching  out 
for  beauty.  This  desire,  this  reaching  out, 
demands  the  study  of  nature,  from  which 
comes  all  art,  both  the  useful  and  the 
finer  arts.  The  trees  beyond  the  field 
must  be  to  us  more  than  timber  for  ships, 
or  cords  of  w'ood  to  biuTi;  they  must  in 
their  beauty  express  the  power  that  created 
the  Hfe  in  the  germ  from  which  they 
sprang.  The  white  vein  of  quartz  in 
which  our  eager  eyes  see  a  thin  line  of 
gold  or  lead,  must  not  be  only  the  gold  or 
lead,  but  shall  show  us  the  laws  that  rent 
tliese  hills,  channelled  these  valleys,  and 
poured  that  white  quartz  tlu-ough  the 
coarse  granite.  The  unerring  flight  of 
the  wild  geese  returning  to  the  marshes  of 
the  Hudson  Bay  and  James  Bay  must  not 
mean  only  the  shipload  of  provisions  and 
furs  sent  by  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company 
every  August  to  the  British  market;  it  must 
also  make  us  wonder  at  the  intelligence 
that  guides  for  thousands  of  miles  the 
fleet-winged  loon  and  wild  goose  as  they 
move  northward  in  spring.  Thus  the 
bird,  mountain,  tree,  river  and  lake  speak 


ETHICS    OF   THE    FARM 


£39 


to  us  at  last,  as  the  higher  educatiuii  tells 
us  of  the  power  that  makes  and  unmakes. 
It  takes  not  away  from  the  skill  of  the 
farmer  to  feel  tenderly  towards  the  daisy 
and  the  clover  that  his  scythe  has  to 
sweep  into  rows  behind  him.  He  is  a 
better  Canadian  if  he  permits  his  scythe 
to  pass  by  unscathed  the  fringed  beauty 
of  the  purple  orchid  as  its  perfume  tells 
him  of  its  presence  in  the  damper  soil. 
That  miner  is  a  higher  Canadian  who,  as 
he  searches  for  his  outcrop,  stands  a 
minute  in  admiration  of  the  purple 
amethyst  or  the  stalactite  hollowed  by 
natural  law.  He  is  a  higher  Canadian 
who  sees  in  the  rapid  flight  of  the  king- 
fisher, joy  at  its  swift  motion  and  pity  for 
its  frightened  note,  who  feels  in  the  sweet 
breath  of  the  arbutus  in  April,  or  in  the 
last  fragrance  of  the  ferns  in  October,  a 
visible  sign  of  the  spirit  of  God  brooding 
over  the  smallest  of  His  creatures  in  their 
awakening  and  in  their  death.  This  is 
the  education  of  the  spirit  of  beauty, 
the  soul,  which,  as  it  belongs  to  the  eternal 
and  is  eternal,  understands  the  message 
that  Nature  has  in  leaf  and  flower,  in 
wave-crest  and  in  mountain-peak.  It  is 
the  revealing  of  this  spirit  which  forms 
part  of  the  duty  of  the  higher  education, 


and  when  our  Governments  carry  out 
deeply  these  esthetics  in  a  national  system 
of  education,  then  will  our  fine  arts  and 
our  useful  arts  unite  in  producing  the  only 
sure  foundation  for  the  highest  national 
education. 

"Without  the  rich  heart,  wealth  is  an 
ugly  beggar,"  and  a  nation  that  loses  its 
civihty,  its  love,  its  heart  in  the  amassing 
of  wealth  has  lost  at  the  same  time  rever- 
ence for  its  institutions  and  love  for  its 
natural  surroundings.  And  these,  too, 
are  largely  the  basis  of  true  patriotism. 
Such  a  nation  loses  the  power  to  make 
songs  for  the  people,  and  when  a  nation 
forsakes  poetry  and  music  it  has  stopped 
the  channels  that  held  it  to  God,  it  has  cut 
the  ties  that  bound  it  to  the  spirit.  Then 
come  the  days  when  Satan  walks  forth  and 
advises  that  the  world  is  only  for  a  few, 
that  all  men  are  not  to  have  equal  oppor- 
tunities, that  one  great  class  will  always 
be  the  slave  of  one  small  class.  Thus 
may  it  not  be  with  Canada,  but  let  the 
higher  education  so  inform  her  new  life 
that  the  splendid  promise  of  her  Saxon- 
Gallic  people  \v\\\  be  fulfilled  in  a  way 
worthy  of  this  new  centurv'  and  worthy 
of  the  Saxons  and  Celts  from  whom  we 
have  descended. 


Ethics  of  the  Farm 


^l^HEN  I  have,  say,  a  thousand  bushels  of  beans  to  sell,  and  my  neighboiirs  have 
enough  among  them  to  affect  the  market,  I  know  just  exactly  what  to  do  when 
a  buyer  comes  along  ^\ath  a  price  that  is  not  high  enough  to  suit  me.  I  sell  him  a 
hundred  bushels,  and  mildly  hint  that  he  tell  the  neighbours  I  have  sold.  Of  course, 
we  are  all  eager  for  a  higher  price,  but  example  is  just  about  as  big  a  thing  in  the  coimtry 
nowadays  as  it  is  in  the  city.  The  neighbours  sell,  and  their  beans  go  off  the  market. 
Again  the  buyer  comes  around,  and  now  he  must  pay  my  price  or  get  no  beans.  And 
the  beauty  of  it  is,  he  can  afford  to  pay  me  more,  because  I  set  the  fashion  for  him  in 
the  first  place.  Besides  that,  he  knows  that  he  is  raising  the  price  only  for  me  and 
only  because  he  needs  the  beans  to  finish  a  carload. 

Of  course,  my  neighbours  and  I  are  on  friendly  terms  \\'ith  one  another.  We 
exchange  visits,  play  cards  together,  and  are  generally  sociable.  But  above  all  things, 
and  at  all  times,  we  are  looking  out  for  Number  One.     I  am  not  an  exception. 

Farmer  John 


The  Cattle  Country 

BY    E.   PAULINE  JOHNSON 
( Tekahionwake ) 

T  IP  the  dusk-enfolded  prairie, 

Foot-falls  soft  and  sly, 
Velvet  cushioned,  wild  and  wary  ; 
Then — the  coyote's  cry. 

Rush  of  hoofs  and  roar  and  rattle  ; 

Beasts  of  blood  and  breed — 
Twenty  thousand  frightened  cattle  ; 

Then — the  wild  stampede. 

Pliant  lasso,  circling  wider, 

With  the  frenzied  flight ; 
Loping  horse  and  cursing  rider 

Plunging  through  the  night. 

Rim  of  dawn  the  darkness  losing, 

Trail  of  blackened  loam, 
Perfume  of  the  sage  brush  oozing 

On  the  air  like  foam. 

Foot-hills  to  the  Rockies  lifting, 
Brown,  and  blue,  and  green ; 

Warm  Alberta  simlight  drifting 
Over  leagues  between. 

That's  the  countr}'  of  the  ranges, 

Plain,  and  prairie-land ; 
And  the  God  who  never  changes 

Holds  it  in  His  hand. 


240 


His  New  Chance 


Bv  MABEL  BURKIIOLPER 


O  the  strained  sight  of  Mari 
ette  the  figure  on  horseback 
toiling  slowly  down  the  gorge 
road  gradually  grew  smaller. 
Although  in  the  clear  moun- 
tain air  that  bathed  Kagles'  Nest  Cliff 
the  vivid  colours  of  his  trappings  were 
still  easily  discerned,  the  girl  knew  that 
her  father  must  be  fifteen  miles  away. 
Dreamily  she  w-atched  him,  clutching 
ever  more  tightly  the  mysterious  packet 
he  had  placed  in  her  hand  at  parting. 
Now  he  had  reached  the  bottom  of  the 
canyon  and  w^as  lost  at  the  bridge  where 
the  shadows  lay  thick;  but  eventually  he 
reappeared  on  the  other  side,  and  w-ent 
crawling  painfullv  up  the  opposite  slope. 
"Father  doesn't  seem  to  see  the  danger 
of  treading  the  gorge  alone  by  night,"  she 
mused,  as  she  finally  lost  him  in  the 
silent  dusk.  "Perhaps,  as  he  says,  there 
is  no  danger";  and  her  laugh  rang  out 
like  a  silvery  chime,  as  the  new^  thought 
struck  her.  "What  a  joke  if  someone 
would  w'avlav  him,  when  the  treasure  is 
all  here!"" 

Eagles'  Nest,  the  most  impregnable 
fastness  in  the  Rockies,  was  supposed  to 
he  kno\^^l  only  to  Mariette  and  her 
father,  and  was  reached  by  the  secret  path 
familiar  onlv  to  the  faithful  feet  of  old 
Buck. 

The  girl  glanced  up  affectionately  at 
the  frowning  walls  that  crowned  the 
jagged  head  of  the  cliff.  The  pile  had 
probably  once  been  a  monks'  abode, 
erected  in  the  impenetrable  soUtudes  by 
some  intrepid  religious  enthusiast,  but 
long  abandoned  for  a  more  favourable 
and  sheltered  spot.  It  w'as  in  ruins  utter- 
ly, and  from  a  distance  appeared  like  a 
ragged  projection  of  rock,  showing  no 
signs  of  the  life  t^iat  lately  infested  it. 
No  better  spot  could  be  imagined  for  con- 
cealing treasure,  and  that  is  the  use 
Mariette's  father  w^'^s  putting  it  to;  for 
he  had  discovered,  in  the  valley  below,  a 
monk's  treasure,  which  would  bring  him 
a   fortune   in   the   cities,   could   he   only 

3—241 


collect  it  all  and  get  it  safely  past  high- 
waymen and  other  scoundrels  interested 
in  the  problem  of  living  without  working. 

The  girl  retreated  into  her  little  room 
and  opened  the  roll  which  her  hand 
tightly  clutched.  There  on  a  bed  of 
deca^-ed  velvet  lay  three  diamonds,  whose 
value  she  could  only  vaguely  estimate. 
She  turned  them  to  the  light,  and  the  vivid 
blue  leapt  up  gleefully  after  the  darkness 
of  years.  She  was  dropping  them  one  by 
one  into  the  little  bag  where  more  of  their 
kind  reposed  darkh',  when,  moved  by  a 
sudden  impulse,  and  wholly  contrary  to 
her  father's  directions,  she  took  the  bag 
and  thrust  all  its  precious  burden  into 
her  bosom,  hooking  her  dress  over  it. 

"For  what  concealment  does  that  box 
afford,"  she  muttered,  "being  the  most 
conspicuous  object  in  this  bare  little  room 
to  a  robber — should  one  ever  succeed  in 
finding  our  retreat?'' 

A  strange  new  fear  fastened  on  her  out 
of  the  darkness. 

"This  being  left  alone  is  plaving  on 
my  nerves,"  she  thought,  starting  nervous- 
ly at  the  creaking  of  a  board.  "I  wish 
we  could  get  the  stuff  to  El  Paso.  But," 
going  to  what  she  called  her  front  window 
and  gazing  down  the  sheer  face  of  the 
cliff  now  silvered  in  the  moonlight,  "I  am 
as  safe  here  as  I  would  be  in  the  heavens 
I  so  nearly  touch.  My  home  by  day  is  only 
a  rock,  as  my  Hght  by  night  is  only  a 
star." 

Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  this  immunity 
from  harm,  which  she  had  proved  to  her 
entire  satisfaction,  Mariette  took  down 
the  little  revolver  and  thrust  it  into  her 
petticoat  pocket. 

"Trusty  little  friend,"  she  said,  patting 
it,  "come  with  me  into  that  drear  old 
kitchen  while  I  gather  up  my  dishes." 

Did  the  floor  creak  again?  Oh!  she 
was  becoming  absurdly  womanish,  she 
who  had  ever  been  her  father's  "man." 
She  picked  up  her  lamp,  humming  un- 
concernedly, but  stopped  on  the  threshold 
as  suddenlv  as  if  a  sword  had  been  flashed 


242 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


in  her  face.  There  in  the  outer  dimness 
sat — a  man,  a  real  man,  a  big  man — a — a 
Mark  man,  with  his  legs  comfortably 
propped  up  on  a  chair,  and  his  head 
meditatively  thrown  back  on  her  favourite 
cushion.  At  sight  of  the  apparition  with 
the  bright  Hsht,  he  gave  a  start  that 
nearly  threw  him  off  his  chair. 

"Confound  you!"  he  cried  sharply. 
■■'What  are  you  doing  here?" 

'Tt  might  be  more  to  the  point  to  ask 
what  are  you  doing  here?"  :^he  replied, 
trying  to  steady  her  voice,  which  seemed 
to  her  like  the  thin  edge  of  sovmd. 

He  stretched  lazily.  "I  only  dropped 
in  for  a  bite  of  supper,  ma'am."  he  said, 
with  due  meekness. 

"I'm  sure  you're  welcome  to  what  you 
see,"  she  responded,  indicating  the  re- 
mains of  her  father's  supper.  He  sat 
up  without  further  invitation,  and,  while 
she  tremblingly  set  before  him  what  her 
meagre  store  afforded,  she  was  studying 
him  minutely  from  behind. 

He  was  not  black.  What  had  seemed 
to  her  the  marks  of  foreign  birth  in  the 
uncertain  light  vv-as  a  sunbrowned  skin 
and  a  shock  of  carelessly  kept  black  hair, 
but  the  man  was,  without  doubt,  a  native 
of  America.  He  wore  the  gay  shirt  and 
scarf  of  the  Spanish  herdsmen,  and  buck- 
skin breeches  that  had  seen  hard  service 
in  the  saddle.  His  whole  makeup  was 
one  of  gay  grace,  the  queerest  mixture  of 
ruffianly  politeness  that  ever  tormented 
the  world.  To  Mariette,  those  great, 
restless,  brown  eyes  seemed  strangely 
famihar,  and  she  searched  her  mind  to 
catch  the  memory  connected  with  that 
face  somewhere  in  the  dim  past,  but  it 
eluded  her. 

After  eating  heartily,  he  pushed  Ijack 
his  chair  and  came  toward  her.  She  had 
risen  also,  and  he  had  no  difficulty  in 
hearing  the  sharp  hiss  of  her  frightened 
breath. 

"Confoimd  it!"  he  cried  again,  grinding 
his  heel  savagely.  "  T  didn't  expect  to  find 
you  here." 

"You  chmbed  the  Eagles'  Nest  to  get 
your  supper  from  a  deserted  ruin,  did 
you?'" 

"I  was  told  the  house  was  empty.  I 
didn't  expect  to  have  to  deal  with  a 
woman." 


"You  ought  to  be  thankful  I  am  not  a 
man  to  throw  you  over  the  cliff  for  yotir 
impudence." 

"I  am  not  glad  though,"  he  responded 
dubiously. 

"I  don't  know  but  what  I'll  do  it  myself, 
woman  though  I  am";  and  she  whisked 
the  revolver  from  her  skirt.  "Now 
leave!" 

"Come,  come,  don't  be  rash,"  he  .said 
calmly,  thrusting  his  hands  into  his  pockets, 
a  movement  calculated  to  bring  to  light 
the  shining  barrel  of  a  murderous  weapon 
at  his  belt.  "And  pray  don't  be  nervous. 
I  hate  nervousness  in  anyone.  You  act 
as  if  you  might  be  conceahng  something, 
some  precious  treasure.  By  the  way, 
there  is  a  treasure  here,  isn't  there?" 

Involuntarily  she  grabbed  her  throat 
to  see  if  it  was  safe,  and  he  laughed  dryly 

"Never  mind,  ma'am,"  he  chuckled. 
"  I  don't  want  to  see  it — at  least  not  now." 

He  striick  a  match  on  the  heel  of  his 
boot  and  proceeded  to  light  his  pipe. 
"Hoping  you  don't  object,  ma'am." 

It  was  that  hateful,  lung-drawn  "ma'- 
am "  that  supplied  to  Mariette  the  missing 
link  in  a  long  chain  of  memories.  She 
recognised  him. 

"You  are — you  are — you — " 

"Yes,  I  am,"  he  laughed,  pleasantlv. 

"Black  Duff!" 

He  acknowledged  the  title  by  a  sweep- 
ing bow  that  was  characteristic  of  him. 

"In  more  resptctful  terms,  Mr.  Dufferin 
Black,  at  your  service."  His  grace 
would  have  charmed  any  admirer  of 
manly  beauty,  as  he  stood  so  provokingly 
cool  before  her,  but  Mariette  v.as  not 
thinking  of  grace.  She  was  in  a  puny 
rage  at  his  invtilnerableness. 

"At  least,"  he  said  sadly,"  they  used  to 
call  me  that  when  I  wore  irese." 

Mariette  looked  and  discovered  on  his 
blouse  the  scarlet  and  gold  colours  of  the 
University  of  Denver.  A  college-trained 
brigand!  But  that  was  only  one  of  the 
odd  contrasts  about  him. 

"Come,  come,"  he^'^aid  banteringly,  as 
she  shuddered;  "you'll  have  to  stiffen  up 
if  you  are  going  to  throw  me  over  the  cliff." 

She  closed  her  eyes  to  shut  out  his  horrid 
image,  while  her  quivering  form  swayed 
and  would  have  fallen  but  for  the  chair 
against  which  she  leaned.  She  had  no  show 


HIS    NEW    CHANCE 


?43 


of  courage,  no  bluffs,  in  the  haled  presence 
of  Black  Duff.  The  useless  weapon 
slipped  through  her  fingers,  and  it  seemed 
she  must  fall  on  her  knees  and  implore  her 
life  at  the  hands  of  the  most  daring  and 
merciless  Ijrigand  of  the  south. 

"You  poor  little  thing!"  he  said  not  un- 
kindly. "This  is  a  real  mean  scare  I'm 
giving  you.  Open  your  eyes.  Holy 
Smoke!    It's  little  Mariette!" 

She  gave  a  dry  sob.  Was  the  fiend 
omniscient?  Where  had  he  learned  her 
name  ?  She  wondered  if  he  had  squeezed 
it  out  of  her  as  he  had  the  hiding  place 
of  her  treasure. 

"You  are  thinking  of  the  place  where 
we  last  met,"  he  said  slowly,  the  smoulder- 
ing fires  of  a  tender  memory  lighting  up 
his  magnificent  eves. 

Both  their  minds  had,  indeed,  jumped 
back  to  that  day  in  the  dim  past.  It  was 
market  day  in  El  Paso.  The  native 
women,  gay  in  their  blue  and  red  skirts, 
cried  their  luscious  wares  to  the  passers-by. 
Darkies  sang  at  the  wharves  of  the  river, 
and  heavily  laden  mules  came  leisurely 
down  the  mountain  roads.  Suddenly 
the  crowd  divides,  for  a  guard  strides 
through,  dragging  a  dusty  prisoner,  foot- 
sore and  faint  from  hunger.  Pie  is  only 
a  boy  with  great  wild,  passionate  eyes, 
and  a  quivering  mouth  that  cannot  look 
stolid  in  crime,  but  the  whisper  goes  from 
mouth  to  mouth  that  it  is,  indeed,  the 
notorious  Black  Duft,  driven  from  his 
mountain  fastnesses  by  the  hand  of  justice. 

"You  were  there  with  your  father,"  he 
murmured,  and  his  mouth  slill  quivered, 
though  the  years  had  hardened  it.  "I 
remember  how  yo\]  sobbed  when  thev 
gave  me  the  lash  in  the  market-place. 
'Father!  Father!'  you  cried;  'those  men 
have  made  some  mistake!  He  is  not  a 
criminal.  He  looks  as  if  he  had  a  con- 
science that  would  kill  him  if  he  did 
wrong.'  How  the  crowd  laughed !  'Hush 
Mariette,'  your  father  said  (ycm  see  I 
have  kept  the  name)  ;  'it  is-,  indeed,  Black 
Duff,  the  most  infamous  robber  in  the 
south.  Conscience  indeed!'  But  you  were 
not  convinced,  and  when  your  father's 
back  was  turned  you  gave  me  a  cluster  of 
grapes  from  your  basket — great  luscious 
grapes  which  tasted  like  a  heavenly  feast. 
I  bowed  and  kissed  the  hand  that  save 


them — they  say  I  was  never  lacking  in 
gallantry — and  then  your  father  dragged 
you  back  into  the  crowd  as  if  a  leper  had 
touched  you.  Two  weeks  later,  you  and 
all  the  world  heard  that  Black  DufT  had 
broken  loose  and  had  gone  to  the  moun- 
tains again.     Ha!  it  is  a  gay  life." 

A  laugh  and  a  frown  chased  each  other 
over  his  dark,  e.\pres.sive  face,  for,  while 
his  lips  smiled,  his  eyes  never  left  off 
looking  sad. 

"Strange,"  he  continued  half-reluctant- 
ly,  as  one  who  tells  against  his  will,  "how 
straight  you  struck  it  about  the  conscience. 
I  have  one  that  nearly  kills  me  at  times. 
Like  to  see  it?" 

He  tore  open  his  shirt  and  exposed  the 
gleaming,  untanned  skin  of  the  shoulder. 
The  light  fell  on  a  short,  jagged  scar,  with 
the  white  bone  shining  under  the  drawn 
skin.  Mariette  shuddered,  but  gazed  in 
horrified  fascination. 

"Why  do  you  call  it  your  conscience? 
Does  it  remind  you  of  something?" 

"Remind  me?     Oh,  yes,  it  does  that!" 

"Does it  hurt?" 

"It  stings  occasionally,  as  consciences 
will."  He  buttoned  his  collar  ajid  shrug- 
ged his  shoulders.  "Oh,  well!  shall  not 
a  man  [)ay  for  his  sins?" 

She  gazed  at  him  in  awestruck  silence 
that  coaxed  his  confidence.  She  was  not 
trembling  any  more,  but  seemed  to  be 
listening  with  all  her  senses. 

"You  see  it  was  my  first  attempt,  and 
that  is  why  I  remember  it.  Gracious,  how 
much  has  happened  since,  that  I  cannot 
remember!  It  occurred  to  me  while  I  was 
wearing  these,"  and  he  touched  the  colour? 
of  which  he  seemed  so  proud:  "as  a  result 
my  chum  was  put  out  of  business  just 
three  weeks  before  his  graduation." 

"Put  out  of  business?"  she  murmured. 

"Killed,  ma'am,  killed,"  he  explained 
with  dark  emphasis.  "They  got  me 
away.  A  new  country,  a  new  chance, 
they  argued.  So  I  thought  then,  but 
now  I  know  that  no  new  chance  comes  to 
the  man  who  has  taken  away  the  chance 
of  another." 

He  lapsed  into  a  long  silence,  broken 
occasionally  by  a  deep  sigh. 

In  her  intense  interest,  Mariette  had 
leaned  forward  until  almost  double,  allow- 
ing the  treasure  bag  to  slip  loose  with 


244 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


unfastened  mouth.  It  is  safe  to  say  that 
both  had  forgotten  its  existence,  until  the 
tinkle  of  a  tiny  jewel  on  the  floor  brought 
them  back  to  the  subject  in  hand.  Into 
the  farthest  corner  it  took  its  ?:igzag  way. 
Black  Duff  followed  and  rescued  it,  bal- 
anced it  on  his  fingers  admiringly,  and 
returned  it  to  her. 

"As  far  as  I  am  concerned,"  he  said 
gently,  "you  are  C[uite  safe.  I  will  not 
touch  your  treasure—little  Mariette." 

"  Oh,  then  you  are  going  now  ?  "  she  said 
simply.  x\ll  at  once  she  discovered  that 
she  was  no  longer  afraid  of  him,  any 
more  than  if  a  mighty  cannon  that  had 
been  pointed  at  her  had  been  tun:ied  to 
face  the  other  way.  It  would  be  darker 
and  colder  on  the  mountain  when  the 
brilliancy  of  his  presence  was  removed. 

"  Yes,  lam  going,"  he  rephed.  " Come 
with  me  to  the  edge  of  the  cliff.  Come 
see  me  off.'' 

The  moon  was  above  the  summit  of  the 
hills  and  its  light  filled  the  sombre  canyon 
with  weird  witchery.  Far,  far  below, 
moving  uneasily  among  the  spiny  cactus 
growth  of  the  \alley  were  three  specks, 
which  must  be  men.  He  pointed  to 
them. 

"What  are  they  doing?"  she  whispered. 

"Keeping  guard  till  I  get  back,"  he 
replied.  "That  is  Shorty  and  Gus  and 
Big  Job,  the  CaHfomia  Smasher.  They 
are  impatient.     Listen." 

"I  hear  only  the  hoot  of  the  owls  in  the 
cliffs,"  she  answered. 

"That  is  our  call." 

"Are  they  coming  up?" 

"Not  if  they  can  help  it.  It  is  too 
hazardous.  But  if  T  am  not  back  by 
midnight,  they  will  come.  You  see, 
ma'am,  I  didn't  expect  to  find  anyone 
home  on  the  cliff,  and  calculated  all  I'd 
have  to  do  was  to  get  the  box.  I  knew 
all  about  it  from  your  boy  Bill.  There, 
don't  plan  to  have  his  blood — he  didn't 
mean  to  tell." 

She  thought  of  her  own  weakness  in 
revealing  the  treasure,  and  v/as  silent. 

"AVhat  are  you  going  to  do  ?"  she  asked 
in  childish  faith. 

"I  am  going  down  to  them  to  try  to 
trump  up  a  story  about  not  being  able  to 
find  the  path,  getting  lost,  rolling  over  the 
cliffs,    anything    in    fact    to    gain    time. 


Ma}'l)e  your  father  and  his  boy  will  return 
sooner  than  vou  thought." 

"Well,  good-by."' 

"  Good  by— Httle  Mariette." 

She  put  her  hand  in  his  and  discovered 
that  it  was  cold  and  clammy. 

"You  are  breaking  faith  with  your 
gang.  You— you  think  they  will  kill 
you,  1  believe." 

"I  think  Big  Job  will  kill  anyone  who 
deceives  him,  and  I  am  going  to  deceive 
him  an.d  keep  him  deceived  all  night." 

"Oh!  is  there  no  other  way?  I^^et's 
stay  here  and  deal  with  them  as  they  come 
up." 

"I  would  rather  deal  with  them  by 
stratagem  than  muscle,"  he  replied.  "I 
am  willing  to  do  your  bidding,  ma'am; 
but,  consider,  I  am  only  one  to  three." 

"Two  to  three,"  she  corrected  proudly. 

"You?     You  are  only  a  woman." 

Mariette  was  nettled.  ".And  therefore 
make  up  in  wit  vrhat  I  lose  in  muscle." 

"No,  my  way  is  best."  He  was  over 
the  edge  of  the  cliff. 

"Men's  ways  generally  are.  You  are 
going  straight  to  your  death." 

"I-ikely,"  he  said  ob.stinately. 

"Then  go,"  she  muttered  under  her 
breath,  and  he  went. 

Mariette  lay  flat  on  the  ground  with  her 
face  over  the  cliff. 

"Sav!"  she  called.  "Sav,  Mr.-  er— 
Mr.  Black!" 

He  turned  at  once  and  looked  up.  The 
moon  struck  his  pale  face  set  with  grim 
purpose. 

"Don't  eo  awav  like  that,"  she  pleaded. 

"Like  what?"' 

".\ngry." 

His  fare  cleared  at  once. 

"If  you  see  they  are  really  going  to  kill 
you,"  she  planned,  "confess  the  truth, 
and  I  will  give  you  the  treasure  for  them." 

"Never!"  he  cried,  stamping  hi?  foot. 

"There,  he  is  angr}-  again,"  she 
pouted. 

"Never,"  he  said  again,  but  the  tone 
was  ven-  different. 

"I  will  save  him  yet,  the  handsome 
dare-devil,"  she  cried,  springing  up,  wild 
with  thought.  "A  woman's  wit,  which 
he  despises,  shall  save  him.,  and  herself, 
and  the  treasure — save  the  whole  situa- 
tion, in  fact." 


HIS   NEW   CHANCE 


245 


She  picked  up  the  f^un,  anfl  when  he 
emerged  into  the  full  moonJijiht  she  took 
deliberate  uim.  It  was  beautifully  done. 
Instantaneously  with  the  report  the  man 
dropped  in  a  limp  heap  across  the  path. 

The  specks  among  the  cacti  moved  to 
and  fro  uneasily.  It  was  past  midnight 
and  Black  Duff  had  not  returned.  At 
times  they  disappeared,  only  to  reappear 
on  higher  ground.  They  were  coming  up. 
Steadily,  painfully  they  climbed,  seeking 
always  to  cover  their  movements  behind 
huge  rocks,  until  they  came  into  the 
open  space  where  the  limp  body  lay, 
making  a  gruesome  warning  to  trespassers. 
They  stopped  behind  a  rock,  looking 
anon  furtively  up  to  the  top,  and  held  a 
parley.  The  Eagles'  Nest  gleamed  with 
subdued,  expectant  lights,  as  if  its  eyes 
fairly  bulged  with  eagerness  to  sight  the 
foe.  "We  are  betrayed,"  they  agreed. 
"The  house  is  guarded.  Bill  has  repented 
after  all — so  much  the  worse  for  Bill. 
Black  Duff  is  wounded  in  the  back  while 
fleeing.  Judge  the  magnitude  of  the 
danger  that  would  make  Black  Duff  run." 
.And  though  they  kicked  his  body  and 
called  him  a  coward  not  one  of  them  dared 
venture  across  the  open  space  where  he 
had  met  his  fate.  By  common  con.sent, 
they  v.'ound  down  the  hill  as  painfully 
as  tliey  had  come,  concealing  every 
movement  until  they  reappeared  on  the 
plain  below. 

Then — then  a  wild  figure  sprang  to  the 
edge  of  the  cliff,  dropped  over,  and  by 
leaps  and  bounds  came  to  her  bleeding 
victim.  She  put  her  ear  to  his  heart,  wiped 
the  blood  that  oozed  from  his  lips,  and 
deftly  from  her  apron  made  a  bandage  for 
the  shoulder  wound. 

"Oh,  my  hero,  my  hero,"  she  moaned. 
"Cursed  be  that  fatal  shot!  Cursed  be 
woman's  wit  that  has  no  strength  to  carry 
out  her  plan.  Do  you  not  see  that  I  did 
it  for  the  be.st  ?  To  save  you  and  me  ?  I 
have  saved  my  self  and  the  worthless 
treasure— but  you — you!  Don't  look 
at  me  with  tliat  glassy  stare.  I  tell  you  I 
did  it  for  the  best!" 

All  night  she  watched  over  the  head 
that  lay  in  her  lap,  the  head  that  no  one 
else  in  all  the  world  would  have  mourned 
to  see  in  the  dust,  the  head  that  was  worth 
five  thoii.sand   dollars  in   El  Paso.     She 


watched  the  moon  set  thick  and  red  in  the 
we.st,  and  the  stars  fade  before  the  ap- 
proach of  day.  When  the  sun's  broad 
face  .smiled  above  the  n.ountains,  the 
sufferer  stirred  for  the  first  time  and 
opened  his  eyes. 

"You  are  crying,"  he  said  vaguely,  with 
a  feeble  attempt  to  brush  away  her  tears. 
Then  reason  came  back,  and  he  remember- 
ed how  he  had  fallen  across  the  path. 

"You  little  vixen,  you  tried  to  kill  me!" 
he  panted. 

"No,  no,  no!"  she  cried,  covering  his 
mouth.  "Don't  you  see  how  I  have 
saved  the  situation  ?     We  are  all  safe." 

"Woman's  wit,"  his  fevered  lips  mut- 
tered admiringly.  "But  why  didn't  you 
tell  me  about  this  open  space,  where  we 
might  have  picked  them  off  one  by  one 
as  they  came  up?     I  had  overlooked  it." 

"I  was  trying  to  tell  you,  but  }ou  per- 
sisted in  your  own  way." 

"You  might  have  made  me  under- 
stand," he  said  with  the  petulance  of 
extreme  w^eakness. 

"I  was  afraid,"  began  Manette,  and 
her  cheeks  became  rosy.  "I  was  afraid, 
if  you  stayed  up  on  top,  you — you  mightn't 
get  wounded." 

He  nestled  his  head  into  a  more  cum 
fortable    position.     "You    put    a    bullet 
into  me  so  I  shouldn't  get  off  with  the 
gang  again,  but  to  all  appearances  be  dead 
to  the  world  and  to  them." 

"Ye-es." 

He  sighed  contentedly.  "Well,  we'll 
hope  this  won't  be  better  for  four  or  five 
weeks.  By  the  way,  where  is  it  ?  I'm 
numb  all  over." 

"You  are  wounded  exactly  on  the  spot 
of  the  old  scar,"  she  told  him.  "Your 
conscience  is  gone — that  old  conscience 
that  was  always  reminding  you  of  things. 
From  this  time  forth,  you  will  have  a  new 
conscience  that  will  remind  vou  of  a  noble 
deed." 

The  hard  lines  fell  away  from  his 
sensitive,  womanish  lips.  The  sun  shone 
on  his  bronzed  face,  kindling  upon  it  a 
boyish  newness  of  hope.  "Oh,  see  the 
sun!"  he  whispered  as  the  light  leapt  up 
the  cliffs.     "I  shall  see  a  new  day." 

"And,  please  God,  a  new  chance," 
she  said,  solemnly  lifting  her  brow  to  the 
morning. 


The  Other  Side  of  the  Fence 

B\  ISABEL  ECCLESTONE  MAC  KAY 


OMEONE  has  come  to 
live  on  the  other  side  of  the 
fence,"  announced  EHza- 
beth  at  the  breakfast  table. 
"Dear  mel"  said  Uncle 
Edward.  ''Does  the  personage  occupy 
the  whole  fence  or  only  part  of  it?" 

Miss  Adams,  pouring  out  the  coffee, 
looked  up. 

''How  you  tease  the  child,  Edward,'" 
she  remarked  with  a  fond  glance  in  the 
direction  of  EHzabeth.  "Bothersome 
little  thing'."  she  thought. 

Uncle  Edward  smiled  across  the  table. 

"Oh,  pshawl"  .said  EUzabeth,  impa- 
tiently. Then  with  a  palpable  effort  to  be 
polite:  "It's  just  a  way  Uncle  and  I  have. 
He  understands  what  I  mean,  and  I 
understand  what  he  means,  and  neither 
of  us  ever  means  very  much  anyway — not 
at  breakfast.  It  is  what  is  called  light 
conversation." 

"Something  in  the  nature  of  a  !)reak- 
fast  food,"  explained  Uncle  Edward 
gravely — "predigested.  Elizabeth  and  I, 
according  to  Miss  Corelli,  must  belong  to 
the  same  circle  of  whatdoyoucallums; 
we  understand  each  other  b}'  electricity." 

Miss  Adams'  smile  lost  a  little  of  its 
sweetness.  It  was  really  most  annoying, 
the  fuss  Edward  made  over  that  ugly 
little  niece  of  his — a  saucy,  uncomfortable 
child  with  eyes  Hke  gimlets.  Still,  it  would 
never  do  to  protest — not  yet. 

"How  nice!"  she  murmured,  a  tritie 
vaguelv.  "Is  it  one  lump  or  two, 
Teddy?" 

Edward  Norton  looked  up,  wonderment, 
patient  and  unflattering,  written  broadly 
on  his  face.  Miss  Adams*  eyes  were 
modestly  bu.sy  with  the  sugar  bowl.  It 
came  to  him  \\ith  a  little  shock  that  she 
was  blushing. 

"Oh,  excuse  me'.''  she  murmured. 
"Being  so  much  with  Mabel,  it  comes  so 
naturally." 

"Mother  hardly  ever  calls  him  Teddy." 
Elizabeth's  voice  was  shrill  with  jealous 
indignation.     "He  doesn't  like  even  me 

246 


to  call  him  that,  since  a  year,  because — 

"Betty!" 

"Because — oh,  just  because,"  finished 
Elizabeth,  applying  herself  to  her  toast. 

But  Miss  Adams'  quick  black  eyes, 
though  modestly  busy  with  the  sugar 
bowl,  had  not  lost  the  look  which  passed 
across  the  table,  nor  her  ears  missed  the 
low  exclamation.  It  was  really  insuffer- 
able. 

"A  good  reason,"  she  remarked  dryly. 
"Evidently  one  of  those  understood  only 
by — electricity." 

.\gain  Elizabeth  came  gallantly  to  the 
rescue.  "As  a  matter  of  fact,"  .said  she, 
"I  guess  there  is  not  any  reason,  except 
that  it  soimds  kiddish." 

Miss  Adams,  of  large,  if  unprofitable, 
experience  in  the  ways  of  men,  knew  that 
it  never  pays  to  be  cross.  She  raised 
her  eyebrow's  prettil}-  at  Uncle  Edward. 

"Chi'dren  talk  so  much,"  she  said 
plaintively.  "There  used  to  be  a  very 
proper  rule  about  being  seen  and  not 
heard." 

"It  sounds  familiar."  agreed  Uncle 
Edward. 

"Ever  hear  about  that  rule,  Betty?" 

"T  never  talk  when  I'm  not  wanted  to," 
stiffly,  "if  that's  what  you  mean.  Shall 
I  stop  now?" 

Uncle  Edward  waved  his  hand  in  a 
courteous  negative.  "On  the  contrary," 
said  he.     Miss  Adams  frowned. 

"Ohl"  said  Elizabeth,  "I  knew  you 
were  dpng  to  know  who  has  come  to 
live  on  the  other  side  of  the  fence." 

"I  am,"  admitted  Uncle  Edward, 
eagerly.  "Hurr}^  up.  I  don't  want  to 
die  with  two  eggs  and  a  slice  of  toast  still 
before  .me.     Who  is  it?'' 

"  Give  you  three  guesses.'' 

"Let's  see!  Old  Mr.  Merrion  come 
back  to  live?" 

"Wrong.     He's  dead." 

"  Old  Mrs.  Merrion  come  back  to  live  ?" 

"Wrong  again.     She's  dead." 

"  Well,  then,  old  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Merrion 
come  back  together  to  live — ghosts!" 


THE    OTHER   SIDE    OF   THE    FENCE 


247 


JOlizabeth  eyed  him  with  suspicion. 
■"Are  you  quite  sure  you  don't  know?" 
she  asked.  "The  person  has  been  here 
three  days,  perhaps  you  have  met  h — 
the  person  ?" 

"  If  he  had  lie  would  most  certainly  have 
mentioned  it."  Miss  Adams'  tones  were 
full  of  the  utmost  trust  and  confidence. 
Uncle  PMward  fidgeted.  Elizabeth 
grinned. 

"Would  he?"  she  asked  skepticalh . 
"Anyway  there's  no  harm  in  telling.  It 
is  old  Mr.  Merrion's  niece  who  has  come, 
and  I  think  it's  horrid.  She's  sure  to  go 
poking  around.  She'll  tind  out  all  my 
nice  places  and  I'll  never  be  able  to  make 
believe  they  belong  to  me  any  more.  I 
shouldn't  be  surprised  if  she  claims  my 
All  Raba  cave  just  because  it  happens  to 
be  on  her  side  of  the  fence — see  if  she 
doesn't!" 

"Merrion,  Merrion,''  said  Miss  Adams 
thoughtfully;  "if  it  is  Miss  Gertrude 
Merrion  to  whom  Elizabeth  refers,  Ed- 
ward, you  could  not  have  a  more  charm- 
ing neighbour.  She  is  the  greatest  linng 
woman  authority  on  religions — other 
peoples'  religion.  I  mean,  of  course, 
heathen  peoples.  I  once  heard  her  give  a 
paper  on  Buddhism.  I  was  quite  taken 
with  her.  Not  at  all  good-looking,  you 
know;  at  least  I  never  could  .see  it,  and 
not  very  young,  but  so  intellectual.  You 
will  like  her  immensely.  I  remember  the 
Hon.  D'Arcy  Malloy  saying  afterwards 
that  she  was  simply  tremendous." 

"Tremendous!"  said  Uncle  Edward  a 
little  sharply.  "Why,  she  is — at  least  I 
don't  see  how  a  child  of  Rodger  Merrion 
could  possibly  be  tremendous." 

Miss  Adams  placidly  sipped  her  coffee. 
"I  presume  he  meant  the  paper  on  Budd 
hism,"   she  said  coldly.     "Personally.   I 
believe  Miss  IMerrion  is  rather  slight." 

"That's  better."  Uncle  Edward  ro.se 
from  the  table  a  little  hurriedly.  "I  like 
sUght  people." 

Miss  Adams  smiled.  She-  also  ad- 
mired slight  people. 

"Not  when  they're  thin  as  sticks, 
though,"  commented  Elizabeth. 

Miss  Adams,  to  whose  carefully  pre- 
served figure  an  enemy  might  possibly 
have  applied  the  word  skinny,  exercised 


a  truly  Spartan  self-control  and  continued 
to  address  Uncle  Edward  archly: 

"Oh!  you  don't  have  to  admire  her, 
you  know." 

Elizabeth  saw  the  archness  and  re- 
belled inwardly.  Aloud  she  said  inno- 
cently: "Oh!  there's  no  danger  of  that. 
Uncle  Edward  doesn't  admire  girls  any 
more  since 

"Betty!" 

"W'hat  were  you  going  to  say,  Eliza- 
beth?" Miss  Adams'  voice  was  very 
smooth  and  gently  persuasive,  but  Eliza- 
beth, knowing  the  look  upon  her  uncle's 
face  and  considering  discretion  the  better 
{)art  of  valour,  had  already  followed  his 
retreating  figure  from  the  room. 

Left  alone,  Miss  Adams  sat  idly,  frown- 
ing a  little  and  crumbling  her  bread  with 
nerv^ous  fingers.  Gradually,  however, 
the  frown  smoothed  itself  out  and  with  a 
sigh  of  relief,  as  if  her  meditations  had 
been  comforting,  she  arose,  smiling  cheer- 
fully. 

"He  simply  couldn't  stand  Buddhism." 
said  Miss  Adams  to  the  coffee  cups. 

Meanwhile  Elizabeth,  outside,  had 
slipped  a  repentant  hand  into  an  unre- 
sponsive one. 

"Uncle!" 

No  answer. 

"I  sav,  Uncle,  shouldn't  I  have  said 
that?"  " 

"Said  what,  EUzabeth?" 

"WHnv  that — what  I  didn't  sav,  vou 
know?'"' 

"Oh,  that!  I  don't  know.  I  was 
afraid  you  were  going  to  refer  to  my 
private  affairs.  If  I  was  wrong,  I  beg 
your  pardon." 

"No,  I  guess  you  weren't  \\Tong,"  re- 
gretfully. "I  was  going  to  say,  'Since 
you  stopped  being  engaged  to  Kitty 
Ferrers.'  I  suppose  you  might  call  that 
a  private  affair." 

"Well,  yes,  rather  private,  I  think." 

"I'm  sorr}^  then.  But  when  Miss 
Adams  looked  at  you  so — so — oh,  so 
flirty — "  Elizabeth  paused,  as  one  who 
is  unable  to  find  further  words,  and  to- 
gether they  walked  in  silence  to  the  orchard 
gate. 

"Betty,"  said  Edward  Norton  at  last, 
"I  think  I  ought  to  correct  a  misapprehen- 


248 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


sion.  Your  partiality  for  me  is  apt  to 
prejudice  you.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Miss 
Adams  did  not  look  at  me  in  the — er — 
manner  vou  describe.'' 

"Didii't  she?" 

"Miss  Adams,  being  such  an  old  chum 
of  your  mother,  naturally  looks  upon  you 
as — well,  as  a  near  relative,  you  know?" 

"What  kind  of  relative?"  asked  Eliza- 
beth. 

"  And  I  look  upon  her  in  the  same  light, 
in  the  same  light  entirely.  I  do  not  hke 
to  see  a  spirit  of  jealousy  in  you,  Eliza- 
beth, and  nov.-  that  this  little  misapprehen- 
sion is  removed  I  hope  to  see  an  improve- 
ment in  your  manners — they  need  it." 

Elizabeth  reflected.  "And  why," 
asked  she  softly,  "v,hy  didn't  you  remove 
this  misapprehension  before — say  three 
days  ago?" 

"Well,  you  see,  it  is  only  lately  that  I  — " 

"Began  to  consider  the  question  (jf  the 
near  relationship  of  Miss  Adams,"  fin- 
ished Elizabeth.  "I  see.  But  oh.  Uncle, 
I  don't  think  I'll  like  the  new  one  any 
better  if  -jhe  reads  papers  of  Buddhism !  " 

"Elizabeth!" 

"Oh!  you  needn't;  you  didn't  tell  me. 
I  just  guessed — electricity,  you  know." 


Elizabeth  was  now  a  panther,  creeping 
stealthily  through  the  underbrush  toward 
the  river,  ready  to  spring  and  seize  upon 
her  prey  when  it  came  to  drink.  Though 
the  prey,  in  this  instance,  was  only  an  old 
grey  cat,  the  utmost  caution  was  necessary, 
for  old  Timothy  had  become  so  used  to 
being  a  prey  that  his  hearing  had  develop- 
ed an  acuteness  almost  abnormal.  But 
to-day,  although  the  panther  crept  with 
absolute  noiselessness,  it  was  =till  not 
within  springing  distance  when  the  prey 
arose  and  walked  slowly  but  determinedly 
away.  The  panther  crouched.  She 
knew  what  that  meant — Hum.an  Beings 
were  approaching. 

"I  will  show  you  all  the  very  best  places 
for  fish,"  .said  one  Human  Being,  persuas- 
ively. The  panther  frowned,  it  was 
Uncle  Edward's  voice. 

"Oh!  thanks,"  answered  the  Other  Hu- 
man Being,  doubtfully.  "But  really, 
you    know.    I    think    perhap';— you    .see 


I've  known  you  such  a  very  short  time, 
^Ir.  Norton." 

The  panther  peaked  through  the  bushes. 
The  Other  Human  Being  wore  a  blue  shirt- 
waist suit  and  a  shady  hat.  The  panther 
had  never  seen  either  of  these  before.  "It 
must  be  the  other  side  of  the  fence,"  de- 
cided she.  "  Oh,  how  I  wi.sh  Miss  .Adams 
vvould  come  along!" 

"Yes,  but  I  seem  to  have  known  you 
for  ages,"  Uncle  Edward's  voice  went  on. 
From  what  the  panther  could  see,  he 
seemed  to  be  addressing  himself  to  the 
shady  hat.  "You  see,  Miss  Merrion, 
when  a  lady  is  more  or  less  in  the  eyes  of 
the  pubHr — —  " 

"Public!" 

"Well,  not  public,  exactly.  BlU  I 
can't  feel  hke  an  acquaintance  of  three 
days.  After  having  heard  you  give  y(.ur 
remarkable  paj)er  of  Buddhism  I  felt  that 
I— that  I " 

"You  must  have  felt  very  strangely 
indeed,"  interrupted  Miss  Merrion  kindly. 
"So  you  heard  me  give  that  paper?  Let 
me  see,  it  was  at — where  was  it,  Mr. 
Norton?" 

Quite  carelessly  the  shady  hat  had 
turned  itself  so  that  he  could  observe 
nothing  but  an  interesting  bow  at  the  back, 
but  the  panther,  watching,  saw  a  delight- 
fullv  fresh  and  youthful  face  with  dancing 
eyes  and  lips  that  were  trying  hard  to  keep 
from  smiling.  "Oh!''  said  the  panther, 
"and  Miss  Adams  said  the  other  day 
she  rouldn't  see  it ! " 

"It  was,  let  me  see,"  said  Mr.  Norton, 
hesitatingly — "well  really  now,  I'm  not 
quite  sure.  Awfully  treacherous  thing, 
memory.  Now,  though  the  place  escapes 
me,  I  can  quite  well  recollect  Hon. 
D'Arcy  Malloy  saying  afterward  that 
it  was  simply  tremendous." 

The  shady  hat  turned  round  again. 
Miss  Merrion's  face  was  sweetly  serious. 

"How  kind!"  she  smiled.  "The  Hon. 
D'.\rcy  always  makes  such  luminous  re- 
marks, they  are  apt  to  dazzle  one.  But 
do  I  understand  that  you  are  interested 
in  Buddhism,  Mr.  Norton  ?  You  have 
studied  the  subject?" 

"Oh,  awfully!  But  as  I  was  sa}nng,  I 
really  believe  you  will  find  me  indispens- 
able   in    vour    fishing,     ^^fv  little    niece 


THE    OTHER    SIDE    OF    THE    FENCE 


249 


knows  this  stream  by  heart,  and  if  you 
will  let  me  come  with  you  I  can  show  }-ou 
some  splendid  pools." 

The  panther  writhed.  "(Jh!"  she 
whispered,  "'the  mean  thin^,  the  traitor! 
He'll  tell  her  about  my  Wd  Baba  cave 
next!" 

" If  I  could  be  sure  }ou  would  talk  about 
an  improving  sul)ject,"  said  Miss  Merrion 
thoui^htfully. 

"I  assure  you " 

"Well  then,  perhaps.  I  am  so  pleased 
that  you  know  all  about  Buddhism.  So 
few  people  do.  I  should  so  much  like  to 
know  your  opinion  of  it,  from  a  relidous 
standpoint,  say,  or  a  Socialistic  stand- 
point, or  a  poHtical  standpoint,  and  from 
any  other  standpoint  that  hay^pens  to 
occur  to  you." 

''They  don't,"  said  Uncle  Kdward, 
helplessly. 

"Don't  what?" 

"Occur  to  me.  That  is — er — you  see 
the  whole  thing  is  so  tremendous.  It's  just 
as  that  ^Nfalloy  chap  said,  it  is  tremendous, 
you  know." 

Miss  Merrion  sighed.  "Indeed,  I  feel 
it  as  dee]>ly  as  you  do,"  she  .said,  gently. 
"Still,"  she  went  on,  evenly,  "I  would  .so 
much  like  to  know  what  you  think  of  it 
as  a  Avhole." 

"Shall  I  put  your  worm  on?"  The 
tone  was  so  humble  that  Uncle  Edward 
might  almost  have  been  the  worm  him- 
self. 

"Thank  you.  I  admit  that  I  do  not 
manage  worms  successfully.  Biit  you 
were  going  to  tell  me  hov.-  you  looked  upon 
Buddhism  as  a  whole." 

"Oh,  well!"  desperately,  "as  a  whole  T 
expect  there  are  some  pretty  decent  points 
about  it,  don't  you  think  ?" 

Miss  l^.Ierrion  rrdsed  her  prettv  eve- 
brows  slightly. 

"Decent  points'  Oh,  I  suppose  you 
mean  that  Buddhism  does  contain  some 
ideas  which  are  essential  truths  and  with- 
out which  no  religion  could  be  built  up  ?  T 
see.     Now,  what  do  you " 

"Hush!  s — s — sch!  Now  then,  put 
her  there,  no,  no,  a  little  to  the  left. 
Right.  Now  then  hang  on  to  him!  Oh, 
look  out,  let  me  help  yon!  Got  him? 
Slowly  now;  there  he  is!" 

"Oh,    what   a    beautv'     Did  vou  ever 


catch  as  big  a  one  as  that,  Mr.  Norton?" 
Miss  Merrion's  tone  was  ecstatic. 

"Never!"  said  Mr.  Norton,  eagerly. 

" Did  your  niece?  The  one  who  knows 
the  river  so  well?" 

"Certainly  not." 

The  listening  panther  fairly  wriggled 
with  rage.  "Oh,  if  Miss  Adams  would 
only  come!"  she  breathed.  And  then, 
because  things  like  this  do  happen  right 
along,  Miss  .Adams  did  come. 

"Oh — Edward,"  said  a  smooth  voice 
which  could  belong  to  but  one  lady.  "I 
thought  you  were  running  into  town  on 
business  this  morning." 

"Just  returned,"  cheerfully.  "Miss 
Merrion — Miss  Adams;  but,  of  course,  you 
ladies  have  met  before." 

"Never  before.  I  think."  Miss  Adams' 
tone  was  chillv. 

"Oh,  no, 'never!"  If  Miss  .\dams' 
tone  was  cold,  Miss  Merrion  was  frigid. 

"I  remember  meeting  your  charming 
and  talented  sister  once,"  went  on  Miss 
Adams.  "I  had  the  privilege  of  hearing 
her  paper  on  Buddhism.  It  was  a  re- 
markable paper.  I  remember  hearing 
the  Hon.  D'Arcy  Malloy  speak  of  it  after- 
ward.    He  said  it  was " 

"Tremendous,"  finished  Miss  Merrion 
sweetly.  "Mr.  Norton,  too,  has  just  been 
telling  me  how  much  he  enjoyed  that 
paper!" 

"Edward!  Why,  I  was  not  aware  that 
he  was  present." 

"Oh,  but  he  was,  only  he  took  me  for 
my  sister.  Do  you  think  me  hke  her. 
Miss  Adams?" 

"Not  at  all,"  slightingly. 

"Oh!"  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  "I  am  so 
glad.  Esther  looks  so  learned,  she  fright- 
ens people.  Now,  I  am  quite  harmless.  I 
never  wrote  but  one  payjer  in  my  life,  and 
that  was  at  school  on  "The  Cat  as  a 
Domestic  Animal,"  "^o  I  don't  consider 
myself  learned,  you  know.  Mr.  Norton 
has  been  terrifying  me  by  bis  display  of 
profound  knowledge." 

"Oh!"  Miss  Adams'  tone  was  not 
encouraging. 

"I  was  giving  a  fishing  lesson — er — 
just  a  few  hints,  you  know,"  explained 
Edward  hastily.  "You  mav  perceive  that 
we  have  caught  a  fish." 

"We!"    said    Miss    Merrion,  sharply. 


250 


THE    CANADIAN   iMAGAZINE 


"Do  I  understand  that  yuu  claim  a  share 
of  that  fish?" 

"You  could  hardly  divide  it,"  remarked 
Miss  Adams  kindly.  "  It  is  so  very  small; 
not  bad,  though,  for  one  who  is  taking 
lessons." 

"Oh,  but  I  don't  think  it's  small!"  said 
the  proud  fisher.  ''It's  quite  large. 
Mr.  Norton  says  he  never  caught  one  as 
large  himself." 

"Does  he?"  If  looks  could  kill,  it  is 
terrifying  to  think  of  what  might  have 
happened  to  Uncle  Edward.  "Then 
some  of  the  stories  I  have  heard  him  tell — 
however,  I  must  not  interrupt  the  lesson. 
Good  morning,  Edward.  Miss  Merrion, 
I  will  do  myself  the  pleasure  of  calling 
soon.     Good  morning." 

The  culprits  stood  spellbound  until  the 
last  flutter  of  the  indignant  lady's  dress 
had  disappeared.  Then  they  both  sighed. 
I  can't  explain  just  why,  because  people 
sigh  from  such  different  causes. 

"Gracious!"  said  Miss  Merrion,  when 
she  had  collected  herself.     "Who  is  she ?" 

"Chum  of  Mabel's,  my  sister-in-law; 
she  is  staying  with  us  at  present.  In  fact 
she  is  almost  an  institution  here.  Acts 
rather  as  if  she  owned  the  place,  doesn't 
she?" 

"If  you  might  be  considered  as  going 
with  the  place,  she  does." 

"You  are  unkind.  I  a.ssure  you,  I  am 
quite  ownerless.  Often  I  have  tried  to 
even  give  myself  away,  but  no  one  seemed 
to  be  looking  for  snaps.  Once,  I  grieve 
to  say,  I  was  returned  with  thanks." 

*"Ah!  any  reason?" 

"More  material  on  hand  that  could  be 
conveniently  used  for  matrimonial  pur- 
poses." 

"I  suppose  you — felt  quite  badly?" 

"Y-es.  T  did  then.  Lately  I  have 
begun  to  wonder  if  I  \\ere  not  reserved 
for  better  things.'' 

"The  study  of  Buddhism,  perhaps " 

"Oh,  Miss  Merrion,  please!  You 
wouldn't  tread  upon  a  worm,  would  you? 
Not  a  humbled  and  helpless  worm  like 
me?" 

"I  don't  know.  If  I  were  a  Buddhist 
worm  I  might,  or  a  worm  that  told  dread- 
ful fibs." 

Uncle  Edward  began  to  reel  in  his  line. 


Dejection  showed  plainly  in  every  line 
of  his  handsome  countenance.  The 
watching  panther  was  disgusted.  ''He 
thinks  she's  mad,"  moaned  she.  "Oh! 
isn't  a  man  silly?" 

"I  suppose,"  Uncle  Edward's  tone  was 
dogged,  "I  suppose  I  may  as  well  go 
along.  It's  evident  that  you  won't  play 
\viih  me  any  more.  Miss  Merrion.  And 
yet  I  did  it  for  the  best.  It  is  always 
when  I  am  doing  things  for  the  best,  that 
I  put  my  foot  in  them.  It  is  exceedingly 
discouraging  to  a  man  of  high  principles." 

"You  would  call  it  high  principles,  I 
suppose,  to  say  that  you  remembered  me 
reading  that  paper?" 

"I  hold  that  it  was  an  extreme  case,  in 
which  the  means  were  justified  by  the 
end." 

".A.nd  the  end  was?" 

"The  end  was — may  I  tell  you  what 
the  end  was — Dorothy?'" 

"You  may  not,  ^fr.  Norton.  I  am 
com  [jelled  to  remind  you  that  you  have 
known  me  just  three  days. 

"You  don't  need  to  remind  me.  I  vvMll 
never  forget  those  three  days.  .\re  you 
angry?  Do  you  think  I  had  better  go 
home?" 

"Perhaps  you  had.'" 

"Do  you  think  I  had?" 

"I'm — afraid  so." 

"Very  well,  I  go.  But  to-morrow  I 
return." 

"I  can't  help  that.'" 

".And  the  next  day." 

"I  can't  prevent  you,  of  course." 

".\nd  the  day  after,  and  every  day 
after,  right  on  to  the  end." 

Dorothy  threw  little  stones  into  the 
water,  and  said  nothing.  Uncle  Edward 
began  to  disjoint  his  rod. 

"Don't  you  want  to  know  lo/ioi  end?" 
he  asked  persuasively. 

Dorothy  threw  another  stone  and  fol- 
lowed it  critically  with  her  eye.  "Did 
you  see  that  stone  skip?"  asked  she. 

"  Don't  you  ?"  he  persisted. 

"\Anien  I  read  a  book  I  never  look  at 
the  last  chapter." 

"Never?" 

"Never." 

"Not  even  when  you  get  there  f"' 

Dorothy  stopped  thro\^ing  stones.  Her 


AT   CHRISTMASTIDE 


251 


face  was  now  (juitc  hidden  by  the  shady 
hat. 

''Oh,  when  I  get  there,  naturally!" 

"Then  don't  you  think,"  said  Uncle 
F.dward,  taking  in  a  finn  clasp  the  little 
sunl'urnt  hand,  searching  aimlessly  for 
stones,  "don't  you  really  think  that  a  man 
would  be  a  fool  if  he  didn't  try  to  hurry 
up  t!ie  last  chapter — Dolly?" 

"Don't!"  cried  she,  starting  up,  trim- 
son  and  trembling.  "Oh,  please  don't! 
I  want  time,  I  want  to  be  sure,  I — please 
let  me  go.  now." 

"I  don't  suppose  I'm  supposed  fo 
listen  to  this,"  thought  the  panther  miser- 
ably. "I  never  dreamed  they  were  going 
to  be  so  silly!  He's  dropped  her  hand; 
what's  she  waiting  for?" 

Rut  the  liberated  lady  did  not  make 
good  her  escape.  Instead  of  flying  she 
even  came  a  little  nearer  :tnd  siving  him 


a  glance,  half  entreating  and  v.hoUy 
beautiful,  she  whispered:  "It  has  been 
such  a  lovely  story,  I  want  to  be  quite, 
quite  sure  that  the  ending  will  be  a  happy 
one!" 

Then,  swiftly  eluding  his  outstretched 
arms,  she  vanished  into  the  wood. 

And  the  panther,  as  she  crept  stealthily 
away  to  seek  once  more  her  prey,  mused 
sorrowfully,  and  perhaps  a  trifle  scorn- 
fully, upon  the  unaccountable  ways  and 
manners  of  human  beings.  Yet  deep  in 
the  panther's  heart  there  lurked  a  very 
unpantherlike  determination,  which  might 
have  been  interpreted  in  words  somewhat 
after  this  manner. 

"WTien  I  grow  up  I  will  have  a  shady 
hat,  and  goldy  hair  and  eyes  that  look 
like  the  sky  in  the  fishing  pools,  and — oh, 
dear,  I'm  afraid  Uncle  Edward  will  be 
awful  old  then!" 


At   Christmastide 


BY   HELEN    B.A.PTIE   LOUGH 

A  T  Christmastide,  what  matter  if  the  trees 

Stand  gaunt  and  leafless,  and  the  early  snows 
In  ragged  drifts,  wind-scattered  here  and  there, 
But  make  the  dull,  brown  fields  more  dull  and  brown, 
And  flowers  sleep  as  though  to  never  wake? 
Tlie  old  world  dreams  of  holier  things,  and  all 
The  hearts  of  men — hard  though  they  be  and  cold — 
Throb  with  a  mightier  joy  than  summer  flowers 
Or  spring's  full-flowing  brooks  could  ever  bring, 
Because  the  God  of  heaven  and  earth  and  sea 
Deigned  to  send  down,  in  His  surpassing  love, 
That  mightiest  gift  of  Fatherhood  di\'ine, 
His  own  begotten  Son  at  Christmastide. 


SILLERY  IN  THE  EARLY   DAYS 
From  en  Old  Print 


An  Old-Time  Novel 

"The  History  of  Emilv  Montague" 
REVIEWED  BY  IDA   BURWASH 


T  is  not  surprising  that  this 
old-fashioned  book  is  now 
seldom  seen.  Judged  from 
the  standpoint  of  letters  its 
story  has  little  to  commend  it. 
though  in  its  day  it  ran  to  two  editions — 
one,  published  in  London  in  1769,  the 
other  in  Dublin  in  17S6,  in  four  thin 
volumes. 

Yet  the  book  has  a  certain  interest — 
chiefly  perhaps  in  the  fact  that  it  stands 
to-day  the  first  attempt  to  reflect  the 
social  life  of  Canada  in  the  days  of  English 
rule.  In  the  first  of  those  transfer  days 
Frances  Brooke,  the  wTiter  of  the  book, 
came  to  Quebec,  where  her  husband 
was  chaplain  of  a  regiment.  Accord- 
ing to  the  fashion  of  the  time,  in  the  year 
1769,  the  preface  of  her  novel  is  addressed 
"To  His  E.xcellency  Guy  Carleton,  Esq., 
Governor  and  Commander  in  Chief  of 
His  Majesty's  Province  of  Quebec,  etc.. 
etc." 

As  an  author  Mrs.  Brooke  was  not  a 
2.52 


novice.  She  had  already  written  an 
opera  which  was  produced  at  Covent 
Garden  and  a  novel,  "Lady  Julia  Mande- 
ville,  "  which  was  widely  read  in  England. 
In  London  she  was  somewhat  of  a  per- 
sonage, a  familiar  of  the  famous  "Blue- 
Stocking  Club,"  and  an  associate  of  such 
distinguished  wits  as  Johnson  and  Gar- 
rick.  She  kept  her  footing  too  in  the 
world  of  art,  for  in  connection  with  Mary 
-Anne  Yates,  a  noted  actress,  she  was  co- 
lessee  of  the  Haymarket  Opera  House,  and 
in  the  studio  of  her  friend,  Miss  Reid.  she 
mingled  with  the  celebrities  of  her  day. 
There  she  encountered  Fanny  Bumey, 
whose  novel  "Evelina"  was  soon  to  take 
the  London  world  by  storm.  Shy  Fanay 
as  yet  had  not  ventured  into  print,  but  if 
her  greeting  to  Mrs.  Brooke  was  timid, 
her  opinion  of  that  authoress  was  boldly 
confided  to  her  Diary.  As  usual  on  re- 
turning home  that  evening,  down  went  her 
live  impressions.  "Mrs.  Brooke  is  short 
and  fat  and  squints,"  she  scribbled,  "but 


AN  old-timp:  novel 


253 


she  has  the  art  of  showing  agreeable  ugli- 
ness. She  is  very  well  l)red  and  expresses 
herself  with  modesty  upon  all  subjects, 
which  in  an  authoress,  a  woman  of  known 
understanding,  is  extremely  pleasing." 
So  much  for  the  woman. 

For  the  writer  there  is  unfortunately 
less  to  be  said.  Mrs.  Brooke  had  a  rare 
opportunity.  The  life  of  a  New  World 
vivid  in  its  contrasts  lay  open  to  her  view. 
Daily,  men  and  women  of  different  races 
and  nations  went  their  ways  beside  her 
within  the  walls  of  old  Quebec.  A  pen- 
picture,  even  of  the  surface  life  about  her, 
would  have  been  a  precious  heritage  to-day. 
The  old  Chateau  St.  Louis  must  have  been 
the  background  of  fascinating  scenes.  A 
description  of  its  quaint  interior,  or  of 
the  odd  mixture  of  Old  World  pomp  and 
New  World  circumstance  that  doubtless 
marked  its  state  receptions — an  account, 
indeed,  of  any  of  its  functions  w-ould  have 
been  invaluable  to  the  story-writer  of  a 
later  date,  a  treasure  to  the  modem 
student  struggHng  to  recover  a  true  im- 
pression of  the  past.  But  the  great 
novelist,  Hke  the  poet,  is  bom,  not  made. 
With  all  her  chances,  Mrs.  Brooke  but 
grazed  the  surface.  Not  a  word  descrip- 
tive of  the  city  did  she  leave.  Not  a 
social  event  is  detailed.  She  had  not  the 
power  to  create  a  single  character.  Yet 
weak  though  her  book  may  be,  we  owe 
her  something  for  the  effort — something 
for  the  fact  that  behind  the  "plot"  there 
still  flit  glimpses  of  a  Canada  of  long  gone 
days.  They  are  fleeting  glimpses,  it  is 
true:  but  "he,"  says  the  wise  man  of  old, 
''who  ha\'ing  eyes  to  see  what  time  and 
chance  are  perpetually  holding  out  to  him 
as  he  joumeyeth  on  his  way,  misses  nothing 
he  can  fairly  lay  his  hands  on."  Ha\'ing 
fairly  laid  our  hands  then  on  this  old  book, 
a  glance  at  its  fading  pages  may  not  be 
amiss. 

The  outline  of  the  story  briefly  runs  as 
follows: 

To  ease  his  mother's  embarrassments 
at  home,  Ned  Rivers,  a  young  Englishman, 
takes  up  a  grant  of  land  in  the  New  World, 
preferring  Canada  to  New  York,  l^ecause 
"it  is  wilder  and  its  women  are  hand- 
somer." At  once  a  favourite  in  "society," 
he  meets  at  Montreal  the  charming  Emily, 
and  regardless  of  her  engagement   to   a 


rather  vulgar  Baronet,  Rivers  falls  in 
love  with  her  at  first  sight.  Luckily  the 
baronet  becomes  heir  to  a  fortune  and  is  in- 
duced by  his  scheming  mother  to  put  off 
his  marriage  for  six  months.  During  this 
interval  Rivers  and  Miss  Montague  are 
thrown  together  at  the  house  of  a  mutual 
friend,  Miss  Arabella  Fermor  of  Quebec. 
The  usual  happens  in  good  old-fashioned 
stor)'-book  style.  Emily's  engagement  to 
Sir  George  is  broken  off — to  the  delight  of 
.\rabella,  who  considers  the  Baronet 
•more  an  antidote  to  joy  than  a  tall 
maiden  aunt."  Rivers  woos  and  wins  his 
Emily,  but  on  the  point  of  marriage  is 
disturbed  by  news  of  his  mother's  illness. 
Fearful  of  interfering  with  her  lover's 
"duty,"  Emily  in  a  transport  of  self- 
sacrifice  sails  for  England.  Rivers,  fran- 
tic, follows  in  a  second  ship.  Arabella 
goes  later  with  her  father,  and  the  story 
shifts  to  England.  There  all  is  arranged 
as  in  the  fairy  tales  of  old.  The  plot  be- 
comes extremely  confused,  but  Emily's 
unknown  father  turns  up  at  the  right 
moment  to  bestow  her  hand  on  Rivers. 
Mrs.  Rivers  is  left  a  fortune  in  the  nick  of 
time.  Arabella  marries  her  Irish  Captain 
Fitz,  Lucy  Rivers  her  brother's  favourite 
friend,  and  in  the  light  of  this  ghttering 
honeymoon  the  story  ends. 

Follo\ring  a  fashion  of  the  day,  the  tale 
is  told  in  the  form  of  a  series  of  letters 
written  by  these  English  settlers  in  Canada 
to  their  friends  at  home. 

These  letters  are  wTitten  chiefly  to  the 
Colonel's  sister,  Lucy  Rivers.  Her  brother 
at  first  gives  her  his  impressions  of  the 
country  as  he  sails  up  the  St.  La^^Tence 
from  the  Gulf.  He  describes  "its  \n\d- 
ness  and  loneliness,  its  solemn  silence  with 
no  sign  of  man's  occupation,"  when 
wrapped  in  the  myster}-  of  primeval  woods 
and  hills,  it  is  more  than  beautiful  and 
rouses  in  him  a  sense  of  the  "great 
subhme." 

But  gradually  overcome  by  his  passion 
for  the  pretty  but  bespoken  Emily,  his 
outlook,  manlike,  takes  a  pessimistic 
turn.  He  grumbles  that  the  glory  of  the 
Indian  is  fallen — that  the  savage  has 
learned  little  from  the  white  man  but 
"excess  in  drinking."  Disgusted,  he 
declares  the  French  Canadians  are  super- 
ficial; that    gay  and  fascinating  as  the 


254 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


•women  are,  ''never  on  earth  has  he  met 
females  that  talk  so  much  and  feel  so 
little  of  love."  The  nuns,  it  .is  true,  are 
gracious  and  dignified,  gentle  by  birth  and 
breeding — the  Ursulines  so  much  so  that 
"he  frequently  forgets  the  recluse  in  the 
woman  of  condition" ;  but,  while  he  is 
willing  "to  let  the  world  play  the  fool  in 
its  own  way,"  he  is  depressed  by  the  sacri- 
fice of  so  much  youth  and  beauty  swallow- 
ed up  by  convents  and  in  gloom  watches 
novice  after  novice  go  to  her  doom. 

Luckily  for  Lucy,  she  has  a  gayer  cor- 
respondent than  her  love-sick  brother. 
Arabella  Fermor,  a  school  friend  of  the 
Rivers,  had  recently  joined  her  father  on 


forty  or  fifty  "'caleches"  bearing  their 
burden  of  pretty  women,  French  and 
Enghsh  ;  the  latter  wrapped  in  loose, 
floating  cloaks  of  India  silk. 

The  climate  is  described  as  all  the  year 
round  agreeable  and  healthy,  the  summers 
divine,  the  sun  cheering  and  enlivening, 
the  heat  as  great  as  that  of  Italy  or  South- 
em  France,  without  the  damp  of  England. 
And  then,  as  now,  this  glorious  summer 
was  made  the  most  of.  Then,  as  now, 
picnic  parties  visited  the  lovely  scenes 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  Quebec.  The 
exquisite  Falls  of  Montmorenci  and  the 
wild  charm  of  the  Natural  Steppes  cast  as 
keen  a  spell  on  beauty-loving  natures  a 


AK  OLD-FASHIONED  CALICHE 


his  charming  property  at  Sillery.  The 
letters  she  sends  to  Lucy  are  full  of  chatter 
of  Quebec  and  its  surroundings.  To 
the  English  girl  in  the  midst  of  London 
fogs  the  English  girl  in  Canada  vmtes 
delightedly  of  the  clear  skies,  the  brilliant 
Northern  Lights  and  the  glorious  moon- 
light of  the  West.  Though  the  sun  is 
hotter  than  in  England,  it  is  tempered  by 
breezes  and  the  evenings  are  deliciously 
beautiful  and  cheerful,  particularly  when 
the  flashing  fireflies,  like  a  thousand  stars, 
shed  their  delicate  splendour  on  trees  and 
grass.  The  modem  Quebecker  will  smile 
as  she  reads  that  on  such  evenings  it  was 
a  common  sight  to  see  on  the  Ste.  Foye 
Road  (then  the  Hyde  Park  of  Canada) 


hundred  and  forty  years  ago  as  they  do 
to-day.  Arabella  \\Tites  in  transports  of 
admiration  "of  the  wild  grace  of  the 
Montmorenci  River,  deep  and  beautiful, 
bursting  its  way  through  the  stupendous 
rock — of  its  magnificent  walls  cro^Tied 
with  noblest  woods,  its  gayest  flowers, 
its  httle  inlet  streams  gushing  through  a 
thousand  grottos,  suggesting  the  haunts  of 
the  Nereids,  and  of  its  little  island  set  in 
mid-stream,  like  the  home  of  the  river- 
goddess  herself,  beyond  which  the  rapids 
rival  in  beauty  even  the  cascade."  This 
in  itself,  she  writes,  "is  worth  crossing  the 
Atlantic  to  see." 

To  describe  the  beauty  of  autiunn  she 
can  find  nothing  more  expressive  than  the 


AN   OLD-TIME   NOVEL 


255 


Canadian  phrase  "  superbe  et  magnifique." 
In  No^•ember,  however,  she  is  surprised 
to  see  "windows  being  pasted  up,"  par- 
ticularly as  Vjoth  Indians  and  beavers  have 
prophesied  a  milder  winter.  But  when 
December  arrives  with  emphasis,  the 
beaver's  fidsity  is  insult  heaped  on  injury, 
forthe  snow  lies  six  feetdeepon  the  ground, 
rising  above  the  windows  so  that  they  have 
literally  to  be  "dug  out "  every  morning. 

The  Canadian  girl  of  to-day  carries  her 
summer  with  her  through  the  depths  .of 
winter.  Dressed  in  the  flimsiest  of  gar- 
ments as  she  floats  about  her  furnace- 
heated,  fiower-decorated  rooms,  she  doubt- 
less has  her  own  opinion  of  the  "good  old 
days  of  her  ancestors."  She  may  even 
hug  that  opinion  to  herself  with  an  inward 
chuckle  as  she  reads  of  Arabella,  shivering 
and  distinctly  cross,  trying  to  write  in  an 
atmosphere  where  the  ink  freezes  on  her 
pen;  where  wine  freezes  beside  the  stove 
and  brandy  thickens  like  oil;  and  where 
the  largest  wood-fire  in  the  chimney  does 
not  throw  the  heat  a  quarter  of  a  yard." 

But  Arabella  had  her  compensations. 

If  there  were  days  when  she  ruefully 
gazed  at  the  snowy  path  down  the  hiU  to 
the  farm — down  whose  turnings  on  sum- 
mer days  past  she  had  gleefully  watched 
"her  beaux  serpentize" — at  least  on  every 
Thursday  there  were  the  Governor's 
Assemblies,  when  into  the  Assembly 
Chamber  the  little  beauty  swept  surround- 
ed by  a  troup  of  her  encircling  "beaux"; 
and  at  the  State  Ball  in  the  Governor's 
Palace,  she  writes  to  her  friend,  "at  least 
three-quarters  of  the  guests  were  men." 

Nor  were  cariole-drives  despised  by 
this  saucy  beauty — when  "weather  or  no," 
wrapped  in  buffalo  robes  and  snug  in 
peaked  scarlet  hood  lined  with  sables,  quite 
the  prettiest  hood  in  the  country,  winning 
for  its  wearer  from  the  "military"  the 
name  of  Little  Red  Riding  Hood — the 
little  coquette  was  off  at  a  pace  of  twenty 
miles  an  hour,  skimming  over  the  beaten 
snow  and  finding  the  inevitable  "upset" 
not  the  least  exhilarating  part  of  the 
"experience."  Even  in  weeks  when  the 
cold  was  too  severe  for  any  outing,  in  the 
old  house  at  Sillery  the  days  were  scarcely 
dull.  There  was  little  chance  for  moping 
with  Emily  Montague  and  Colonel  Rivers 
and    Arabella    and    her    Irish    Captain 


Fitzgerald  playing  shuttlecock  all  morning 
to  keep  their  frozen  blood  in  action,  and 
livening  up  their  evenings  by  "playing  at 
cards — playing  the  fool — making  love 
and  making  moral  reflections."  Among 
the  latter,  Arabella  in  a  very  chilly  moment 
"reflects"  on  those  stupid  enthusiasts 
who  talk  of  a  "new  Athens  near  the  Pole," 
being  firmly  convinced  that  "Genius  can 
never  exist  in  Canada,"  where  the  faculties 
lie  benumbed  six  months  in  the  year." 
She  is  also  illumined  by  the  possibility  that 
Pygmalion's  statue  was  after  all  "only  a 
frozen  woman  thawed  bv  a  sudden  warm 
day." 

The  colonial  fashion  of  receiving  gentle- 
men on  New  Year's  Day  meets  with  her 
heartiest  approval.  That  the  gentlemen 
of  the  city  should  call  in  person  to  wish 
their  friends  and  hostesses  the  Compli- 
ments of  the  Season  was  a  graceful  atten- 
tion. A  later  writer  states  that  on  such 
occasions  the  ladies  were  greeted  by  their 
visitors  with  a  "chaste  and  holy  salute." 
When  it  is  remembered  that  this  was  a 
time  when  tea  was  twenty-five  shillings  a 
pound,  and  wine  twelve  shillings  a  dozen, 
the  modem  hostess  may  have  her  doubts 
as  to  the  peculiar  grace  of  this  ancient 
custom. 

While  Arabella  dashes  ofif  her  quips  to 
Lucy,  her  father  corresponds  with  a  noble 
Earl.  To  his  lordship  he  writes  sedately: 
"The  system  of  the  French  is  military  not 
commercial.  Every  peasant  is  a  soldier, 
ever}'  seigneur  an  officer;  all  serve  with- 
out pay,  and  their  lands  are  practically 
free.  The  habitants  are  tall,  robust  and 
indolent,  loving  war  and  hating  labour; 
brave,  hardy  and  alert  in  the  field,  but 
indolent  at  home  like  the  savages  whose 
ways  they  quickly  take  to.  But  though 
ignorant  and  stupid  they  have  a  strong 
sense  of  honour,  and  are  vain  and  look 
on  France  as  the  only  civilised  country  in 
the  whole  world.  Yet  they  have  an 
aversion  to  French  troops,  but  idolise 
Montcalm,  for  whom  even  his  enemies 
wept." 

Montmorenci  has  its  charms  for  Cap- 
tain Fermor  too.  In  winter,  as  he  stands 
below  'the  fall,  on  the  "glassy  level"  of 
the  frozen  river,  he  is  dazzled  by  the  colours 
as  the  sunlight  strikes  the  ridges  of  the  ice. 
He  describes  the  scene  in  its  wild  mag- 


256 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


nificence  as  one  of  grandeur,  variety  and 
enchantment. 

"Quebec,"  he  confides  to  his  friend, 
"ranks  as  a  third  or  fourth  rate  EngUsh 
countr}'  towTi;  where  there  is  much  hos- 
pitality, but  little  society — where  there  are 
cards,  scandal,  dancing  and  good  cheer, 
but  where  the  poHtics  are  as  difficult  to 
understand  as  the  Germanic  System." 

This  correspondence  is  short  and  ends 
with  the  following  unique  suggestion : 

"Your  Lordship's  idea  in  regard  to 
Protestant  convents  here  on  the  footing 
of  the  one  we  visited  together  at  Ham- 
burgh is  extremely  well  worth  the  con- 
sideration of  those  whom  it  may  concern, 
especially  if  the  Romish  ones  are  abohshed, 
as  will  most  probably  be  the  case.  The 
noblesse  have  numerous  families,  and  if 
there  are  no  convents  they  will  be  at  a  loss 
where  to  educate  their  daughters,  as  well 
as  how  to  dispose  of  those  who  do  not 
marry  at  a  reasonable  time,  and  the  con- 
venience they  find  in  Ijoth  respects  from 
these  houses  is  one  strong  motive  to  them 
to  continue  in  their  ancient  religion. 

"I  would  wish  only  the  daughters  of  the 
seigneurs  to  become  nuns,  obliged  on 
taking  the  vow  of  obedience  to  prove 
their  noblesse  for  three  generations,  which 
would  secure  them  respect  and  limit  them. 
They  would  take  the  vow  of  obedience  but 
not  of  celibacv',  with  power  as  at  Ham- 
burgh of  going  out  to  marry,  but  only  for 
that,  and  as  at  Hamburgh  even  the  Abbess 
should  have  power  to  resign." 

Before  the  scene  shifts  from  Canada, 
however,  we  have  Arabella's  farewell  to 
the  spot  she  prefers  above  all  others  in  the 
world  except  I.,ondon — her  farewell  to  gay 
Quebec  where  '  'the  beaux  were  six  to  one," 
where  she  drank  chocolate  with  the  Gen- 
eral in  to\^^l,  and  syllabub  with  her  friends 
in  the  woods  of  Siller}' ;  her  farewell  to 
"the  sweetest  countr}'  in  the  world,  where 
she  danced  twenty-seven  dances  at  the 
Governor's  Ball  on  Thursday."  To 
Montmorenci  she  hurries  again,  where 
"for  the  last  time,"  she  wTites  to  Lucy, 
"I  xisited  every  grotto  in  its  lovely  banks, 
kissed  every  flower,  raised  a  votive  altar 
on  the  little  island,  poured  a  libation  of 
^wine  to  the  river-goddess;  and,  in  short, 


did  everything  it  becomes  a  good  heathen 
to  do."  ' 

Every  age  has  its  exaggerations.  To 
the  visitor,  fleeing  from  the  modern 
park,  the  blare  of  the  merry-go-round, 
and  the  cruel  advertisement  of  the  zoo, 
this  picture  of  whimsical  Arabella  saying 
a  romantic  farewell  to  grove  and  stream 
in  the  wild  silence  of  the  gorge  has  its 
enviable  points. 

Then  comes  an  impression  of  the  Bic 
of  a  hundred  and  forty  years  ago,  jotted 
down  in  passing.  "At  Bic,"  she  continues, 
"we  landed  to  pick  raspberries,  just  in 
view  of  shores  wildly  majestic,  the  south 
water  just  trembling  to  the  breeze,  the 
ship  with  all  her  streamers  out,  floating 
on  the  tide,  with  a  few  scattered  houses 
seen  among  the  trees  in  the  distance." 

Finally,  we  have  a  last  glance  at  the 
lively  scribe  just  as  she  disappears  from 
western  shores,  for  in  August  the  ship 
Ues  becalmed  in  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence. 
"Here,"  she  writes  once  more,  "we  fished 
under  the  Magdalen  Islands  in  a  dimpled 
sea  and  dancing  sunbeams,  the  fish  play- 
ing on  the  surface  of  the  water,  while  in 
the  distance  rose  the  Magdalens,  fenced  in 
by  their  walls  of  rock." 

Here  the  connection  of  the  story  with 
Canada  is  dropped.  If  the  impression  it 
leaves  is  slight,  it  is  not  unpleasing — this 
passing  glimpse  of  an  old  New  World, 
of  Montmorenci  in  its  first  wild  grace,  as 
of  the  majesty  of  the  St.  Lawrence  in  its 
lonely  and  unpeopled  days'.  This  glimpse 
of  first  winters  when  the  snows  lay  deep 
on  isolated  farms — when  houses  were  bare 
of  luxuries,  yet  had  a  grace  of  their  own  as 
we  see  them  still  in  the  light  of  their  pine- 
wood  fires  blading  up  the  rough  chimneys 
and  in  the  warmth  of  the  welcome  they  so 
graciously  included!  This  ghmpse  too 
of  amusements  simple  in  style  yet  keenly 
enjoyed,  and  of  that  first  rubbing  together 
of  the  edges  of  French  and  English 
natures,  each  at  the  moment  incapable 
of  understanding  the  other's  point  of  view. 
Best  of  all,  perhaps,  to  the  present  day 
Canadian  is  the  suggestion  of  the  growth 
even  then  of  the  settler's  love  for  the  home 
of  his  adoption — for  "  Canada  the  sweetest 
country  in  the  world." 


LEAVING  CAMP  FOR  THE  DAY  S  WORK 


Patriotic  Military  Training 

Bv  LT.-COL.  WILLIAM  HAMILTOX  MERRITT 


SHALL  in-  to  consider  mili- 
tary service  purel\-  from  the 
point  of  view  of  a  patriotic 
citizen  of  tiie  British  Empire, 
and  indeed  hmited  to  the 
exigencies  of  our  Xorth  American  situ- 
ation. In  our  people  at  large  there  is 
a  phlegmatism  with  regard  to  our  Cana- 
dian militia  which  is  appalling  when 
we  think  that  the  very  existence  of  our 
country  may  depend  on  the  basis  of  our 
military  organisation  as  largely  as  upon 
the  spirit  of  our  people;  and  that  the 
former  may  be  moulded  to  influence  the 
latter. 

It  may  readily  be  answered  that  the 
reason  such  a  small  number  of  represent- 
atives of  the  people  take  any  part  in 
parliamentary  discussions  of  the  militia, 
or  why  so  few  persons  in  the  country 
at  large  even  write  or  speak  on  questions 
affecting  it,  is   because   these   things   are 


held  to  be  purely  technical  and  profes- 
sional. The  average  citizen  thinks  that 
thev  should  be  left  to  the  comparatively 
small  circle  of  men  who  are  at  the 
moment  taking  an  active  part  in  the 
militia  itself. 

The  technical  or  professional  side  of 
the  matter  is  not  what  I  aspire  to  treat 
of  in  this  article,  but  rather  of  other 
considerations  which  should  be  apparent 
to  ever\-  patriotic  citizen.  And  I  hope 
that  I  can  put  them  plainly  as  grave 
matters,  which,  instead  of  being  merely 
of  academic  interest,  will  appeal  to  every 
intelligent  man  and  woman  in  Canada 
as  primary  duties  to  the  country.  Take 
as  preliminary  considerations:  What  is 
the  object  of  our  miHtary  force?  Do  we 
need  a  military  organisation  in  Canada? 

Taking  the  object  into  consideration, 
what  should  be  the  form  of  our  military 
organisation?     If  it  is  necessarv  to  give 


258 


THE    CANADL\N   ISIAGAZIXE 


every  able-bodied  citizen  some  training 
to  fit  him  to  defend  his  country,  then 
how  will  it  aft'ect  the  individual,  the 
community  at  large,  and  the  British 
Empire  ? 

With  these  preliminary  matters  in  view 
u-e  first  ask  the  question,  What  is  the  ob- 
ject of  our  militia  ?  Is  it  a  paid  army  kept 
by  the  rest  of  the  community  to  defend 
them  against  attack  from  foreign  foes, 
or  is  it  a  species  of  constabulary  like  our 
North-West  Mounted  Police  or  the  Irish 
Constabulary,  but  in  this  instance  main- 
tained to  act  against  strikers,  or  to  pre- 
vent riots?  An  answer  to  the  first  ques- 
tion might  reasonably  be  that  the  mihtia, 
as  it  exists,  is  so  helplessly  inadequate 
when  considered  as  a  force  which  could 
defend  the  country,  that  some  s}Tnpathy 
must  arise  for  the  people  at  large  w'ho 
do  not  take  it  seriously.  Then,  on  the 
other  hand,  if  it  is  viewed  as  an  organisa- 
tion whose  object  is  chiefly  to  enforce 
law  and  order  when  called  upon,  we  are 
amazed  that  we  require  such  a  large  and 
expensive  constabulary  in  the  heart  of 
Canada;  and  the  question  immediately 
arises  whether,  having  this  object  in 
view,  it  could  not  be  remodelled  on  vastly 
simpler  and  less  expensive  Hues. 


^^"hen  we  look  back  and  consider  the 
history  of  the  mihtia,  with  which  is  in- 
separably linked  the  history  of  our 
country,  we  find  what,  at  all  events,  was 
the  intention  of  our  forefathers  as  to 
the  object  of  the  militia,  and  we  are  also 
brought  face  to  face  with  the  considera- 
tion of  the  second  question,  "Do  we 
need  a  miHtary  organisation  in  Canada?" 

In  1812-13-14,  for  three  long  eventful 
years,  the  handful  of  people  in  Canada 
withstood  the  armed  force  of  the  grow- 
ing nation  to  the  south  of  us  and  bravely 
repelled  thirteen  invasions  of  that  vastly 
more  numerous  people.  After  that  was 
all  over  these  brave  men  decided  on  a 
form  of  national  defence,  in  the  light  of 
the  practical  experience  obtained  by 
them  in  their  three  years'  successful 
death-struggle  for  their  country  and 
their  flag.  The  plan  they  decided  upon 
is  the  same  plan  that  has  been  adopted 
by  every  country  in  the  world  save  Eng- 
land in  her  "magnificent  isolation"  and 
the  United  States  in  her  North  Ameri- 
canism and  vast  numerical  strength. 
The  plan  our  forefathers  deemed  essen- 
tial to  the  safety  of  Canada  w-as  that  of 
the  Boers,  of  the  Swiss,  of  the  Japanese 
(though  less  drastic),  and  with  the  same 


1906  CAMP,  CANADIAN  MOUNTED   RIFLES,   ALBERTA 


I 


r\'i"i{i(rri("  MiLiTAin    ri{\i.\i.\(; 


^2.y.) 


C.M.R.  CAMP — TROTTING  DRILL 


jjatriotic  fundament  of  home  defence 
that  iinderUes  the  extreme  rendering 
given  by  Germany,  France,  Italy  and 
Russia,  to  the  only  possible  s}stem  for 
a  brave  and  patriotic  people. 

Our  forefathers  therefore  determined 
to  provide  for  again  defending  their 
country  if  it  should  be  necessary;  and  as 
they  reasonably  held  it  to  be  "an  every 
man's  job,"  they  framed  laws  which 
compelled  every  able-bodied  citizen  who 
was  not  a  criminal  to  turn  out  under 
arms  once  a  vear  while  in  the  prime  of 
life. 

But  unfortunately  in  Canada  in  that 
day  there  was  inequality  in  the  render- 
ing of  an  otherwise  perfect  system. 

In  Ontario  it  was  necessar}'  to  turn 
out  but  on  a  single  day;  in  Nova  Scotia 
during  the  five  days'  training  provided 
for  in  that  province  much  useful  work 
was  done,  while  in  Quebec  three  muster 
days  were  exacted  at  difterent  times. 
Naturally  anything  like  efficiency  was 
out  of  the  question  in  Ontario,  and  after 
the  union  of  Upper  and  Lower  Canada, 
the  Acts  of  1846  and  1855,  instead  of 
strengthening  the  weak   spots  in   a   na- 


tional patriotic  military  system  inaug- 
urated the  voluntary  standing  army  system 
of  England,  which  all  recent  enactments 
have  been  following  and  emphasising 
ever  since. 

We  have  drifted  somewhat  away  from 
a  direct  answer  to  our  question.  Evi- 
dently our  forefathers  thought  a  militia 
organisation  necessary.  Their  view  of 
its  object  undoubtedl}-  was  to  repel  in- 
vasion from  the  south  should  the  great 
nation  there  at  any  time  make  up  its 
mind  to  repeat  the  attempts  of  a  century 
ago. 

Though  the  original  design  of  our 
militia  has  been  lost  sight  of,  though  we 
are  not  working  on  the  lines  thought 
necessary  by  our  forefathers,  and  though 
we  have  so  far  drifted  away  from  them 
as  to  have  made  the  inadequacy  of  our 
system  for  the  defence  of  the  country 
so  apparent  that  the  average  business 
man  does  not  take  the  present  militia 
seriously,  }"et  with  all  that  the  heart  of 
the  people  is  true  as  steel;  they  believe 
that  the  object  of  our  militia  should  be 
the  defence  of  Canada  to  the  death,  and 
that  we  do  need  a  militarv  organisation. 


260 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


I  cannot  give  a  better  example  in  sup- 
port of  this  than  to  allude  to  the  splen- 
did feeling  of  loyalty  whenever  a  county 
council  is  appealed  to  in  support  of 
Canadian  defence  organisations. 

It  is  not  many  years  since  I  approached 
more  than  one  county  council  and  laid 
before  them  the  matter  of  the  struggles 
and  difficulties  in  connection  with  keep- 
ing up  our  volunteer  militia.  I  put 
the  question  to  them  somewhat  in  this 
wise:  If  for  any  reason  the}'  beHeved 
the  defence  of  Canada  so  hopeless  as  to 
be  waste  of  energy  in  attempting,  or 
undesirable  for  any  other  reason,  the 
matter  could  end  there;  but  if  they  be- 
lieved we  should,  and  would,  put  up 
the  fight  that  our  forefathers  did  in 
1812-14,  then  the  county  should  play 
its  part  in  giving  countenance  and  aid 
made  necessary  under  our  present  military 
organisation.  Though  it  is  usual  to 
have  party  feeling  shown  in  almost  every- 
thing in  our  Canadian  administrative 
bodies,  I  have  yet  to  see  a  want  of  una- 
nimity in  a  county  council  on  this 
question.  Conservatives  and  Liberals 
alike  vote  solidlv  to  a   man   in  favour  of 


the  principle  of  the  defence  of  Canada 
and  a  willingness  to  give  any  reasonable 
aid  on  their  part  to  necessary  and  well- 
conducted  military  organisations.  I  will 
say  this,  that  instances  have  arisen 
where  the  behaviour  of  some  loafers 
who  have  "gone  out  to  camp"  for  the 
money  they  could  get  out  of  it,  has 
shocked  county  councils  and  caused 
withdrawals  of  assistance.  These  men 
care  as  little  for  the  work  or  the 
regiment  they  enroll  in,  as  for  the 
patriotic  object  of  the  training,  and 
do  grave  wrong  to  the  mihtia  in  the 
ej-es  of  many  worthy  men  and  women 
among  the  farms  and  villages  of  our 
country.  There  are  many  county  coun- 
cils whose  recognition  of  their  duty  to 
their  country  is  a  gem  in  the  diadem 
of  Canada,  but  I  am  never  tired 
in  instancing  the  sterling  loyalty  and 
patriotic  devotion  of  the  good  old  coun- 
ties of  York  and  Peel,  as  examples  of 
the  stuff  of  which  the  county  councils 
are  made. 

This  brings  us  to  the  consideration 
of  the  third  question.  Taking  the  ob- 
iect  of  our  militia  to  be  for  the  defence 


mti^.  ».s^ "" 

"*^*^^'             ^^^falii 

"^ '          -  w  -.  .,  * . 

^^^^m^^^^^^^^SjA 

IH^HHI^B^'''        ^  -                    ^'^^^^''^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H 

^^^^^^^^^^^H^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Hm 

B^*^ '    unU^H 

. ,   'y^y^S^^BBi 

^^           "'-^^B^^^^Km 

«^^^H 

...^^.^Z^^^H 

C.M.R.   C.\MP       liI^MOUMHD  FOR  THE  FIRING  LINE 


I'A'IlilOTK      MIIJ^AI{^      TPvAIMXG 


261 


C.M.R.  CAMP — THE  HORSE  LINE 


of  Canada  and  not  a  police  force,  what 
then  should  be  the  form  of  its  military 
organisation?  In  any  ordinar\-  ever)-- 
day  affair,  when  people  wish  to  feel  sure 
that  they  will  have  a  safe  opinion — or 
as  safe  as  we  can  get  anything  in  this 
life — they  turn  to  those  who  have  had 
experience  in  the  particular  matter  con- 
cerned. It  would  be  expected,  there- 
fore, we  would  obtain  the  best  practical 
view  as  to  the  most  satisfactory  form  of 
military  organisation  to  ensure  the  safety 
of  Canada,  from  the  men  who  have 
taken  part  in  actual  operations  carried 
on  with  that  object  in  view. 

This  naturally  takes  us  back  again  to 
those  giants  of  1812,  whose  plan  of  miH- 
tary  organisation  I  have  touched  upon. 
The  original  plan  mapped  out  by  these 
men,  from  their  practical  experience, 
was  that  ever>'  male  citizen,  physically 
fit  and  not  a  criminal,  should  be  liable 
for  militar}'  service  between  the  ages  of 
eighteen  and  sixty.  They  also  were  of 
the  opinion  that  an  untrained,  undis- 
ciplined mob,  not  knowing  one  end  of 

I  a  rifle  from  the  other,  was  undesirable; 

I  they  therefore  provided  by   law   that    all 


should  be  comjjelled  to  acquire  some  ex- 
perience in  military  organisation  and  the 
use  of  arms.  As  has  been  pointed  out, 
all  the  provinces  in  Canada  at  that  time 
adopted  this  principle,  but,  unfortunately 
for  the  general  success  of  the  plan,  it 
appears  to  have  been  carried  out  in  a 
very  slip-shod  manner  and  it  soon  de- 
generated into  a  voluntary  turnout,  those 
who  cared  to  be  present  at  muster  an- 
swering their  names.  It  is  even  said 
that  often  an  adjournment  to  the  nearest 
pubhc  house  constituted  the  dismissal. 
A  system  such  as  that  must  soon  fall  into 
disrepute,  which  was  the  case  in  this 
instance.  This  system  is  what  is  known 
as  imiversal  service  or  conscription.  It 
is  in  reality  a  form  of  patriotic  service 
in  that  it  provides  a  national  organisation, 
whereby  all  loyal  citizens  can  co-operate 
in  the  defence  of  their  hearths  and  homes. 

There  is  another  form  of  military  ser- 
vice which  reached  its  acme  in  the  "mer- 
cenaries" of  the  middle  ages.  In  this 
class  the  consideration  for  service  is  not 
on  the  basis  of  patriotic  devotion,  but 
for  50  much  money  paid  for  ser\-ices. 

To-dav  in  Canada  the  regulating  fac- 


262 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


tor  in  our  militia,  outside  of  those  city 
corps  which  do  not  draw  pay,  is  the 
amount  of  money  that  will  induce  a  man 
to  give  his  service  to  the  state. 

I  do  not  say  for  one  moment  that  in 
time  of  danger  a  very  large  proportion 
of  the  populace  would  not  be  willing 
and  anxious  to  fly  to  arms  in  defence  of 
the  coimtry.  But  on  the  one  hand  there 
are  not  arms  to  which  they  could  fly, 
and  on  the  other  hand  absolutely  un- 
trained men,  with  strange  and  untried 
arms,  would  be  of  little  use  in  an  emer- 
gency, such  as  the  invasion  of  Canada. 
The  thing  to  be  considered  is  the  best 
actual  form  of  military  organisation  for 
times  of  peace  as  well  as  for  times  of 
war.  It  is  inconceivable  that  there 
ought  to  be  two  different  systems,  one 
for  peace  and  one  for  war,  as  we  now 
have  them;  so  that,  virtually,  it  comes 
down  to  the  question  of  the  choice  of 
the  two — the  patriotic  form  laid  down 
by  oiu"  forefathers  or  the  dollar  basis  on 
which  we  are  now  working. 

Two  considerations  of  considerable 
moment  present  themselves  with  refer- 
ence to  the  latter: 

Can  we  afford  to  keep  a  paid  soldiery 
of  suflicient  numbers  to  do  the  fighting 
for  the  rest  of  the  people?  Are  we  rich 
enough,  are  we  debased  enough  to  have 
to  rely  on  such  a  system  for  our  defence 
and,  indeed,  if  such  a  national  luxury 
is  to  be  continued,  is  it  a  possible  system 
from  another  point  of  view,  namely,  the 
successful  defence  of  the  coimtry? 

Therein  lies  the  gist  of  the  whole  matter. 
The  fact  that  the  "levee  en  masse" 
clauses  still  exist  in  the  ^lilitia  Act — 
the  dead-letter  part  of  the  Act — is  the 
best  answer.  The  clauses  say  plainly  that 
existing  conditions  are  not  supposed  to 
defend  Canada,  but  that  in  case  of  real 
national  emergency  ever}-  man  would  be 
called  upon  to  bear  arms. 

Accepting  the  fact  that  the  defence  of 
Canada  is  "an  every  man's  job,"  then  it 
follows  that  as  trained  men  are  better 
than  ignorant  men,  it  would  be  alto- 
gether adxasable  to  have  the  "levee  en 
masse"  clauses  in  the  ]Militia  Act  a  live 
principle,  instead  of  a  dead  letter,  and 
that  we  should  have  some  form  of  pat- 
riotic service  in  Canada  wherebv  every 


sound  man  in  the  country  should  have 
sufficient  training  to  be  able  effectively 
to  take  his  place  in  the  line  of  defence 
of  his  country. 

This  now  brings  me  to  the  fourth 
question  I  undertook  to  consider  at  the 
start:  If  it  is  necessary  to  give  every  able- 
bodied  citizen  some  training  to  fit  him 
to  defend  his  country,  then  how  wiU  it 
aft'ect  the  individual,  the  community  at 
large  and  the  British  Empire?  It  would 
be  mere  theory  to  say  that  a  certain 
amount  of  military  training,  engender- 
ing system,  discipline  and  obedience,  is 
good  for  any  man.  That,  added  to  the 
intelligence  resulting  from  our  excellent 
school  system  and  the  individual  re- 
sourcefulness coming  from  effort  to  over- 
come natural  conditions  in  a  new  coun- 
try, the  results  of  military  training  become 
a  distinct  asset  to  the  country.  And  again, 
that  the  underlying  spirit  of  loyalty,  and 
probable  co-operative  basis  of  training, 
must  have  a  distinct  bearing  on.  the 
unity  and  power  of  the  whole  British 
Empire. 

We  can,  however,  do  better  than  merely 
theorise.  We  can  look  for  example  to 
such  coimtries  as  Japan  and  Switzerland 
for  results.  Perhaps  Japan  demands 
more  time  and  attention  to  patriotic 
training  at  the  hands  of  her  citizens  than 
Canada  would  deem  necessar\',  though 
the  compulsor\'  service  in  Japan  is  lighter 
than  in  most  European  countries,  and 
is  designed  to  interfere  as  little  as  possible 
\\\\\\  business.  Of  course,  every  school 
in  Japan  is  under  a  military  system,  and 
from  the  time  a  male  child  can  think  at 
all  the  magnificently  unselfish  ideal  of 
dying  for  his  country,  as  the  highest 
distinction  that  can  come  to  a  man,  is 
the  goal  set  for  him.  The  development 
of  individual  intelligence,  respect  to 
superiors  and  implicit  obedience — the 
outcome  of  this  intelligence — coupled 
with  the  abasement  of  self,  in  devotion 
to  emperor  and  countr}-,  has  made  Japan 
one  of  the  most  ideal  communities  of 
people  in  the  world.  In  this  latter  case 
I  am  only  able  to  point  to  results  and  to 
what  has  been  told  me  by  persons  who 
have  recently  been  enquiring  into  the 
reason  of  these  results  in  Japan. 

But  in  the  case  of  Switzerland  we  for- 


PATRIOTIC    MILI'IAIJ^      TKAIMXC; 


263 


lunately  have  the  opinions  of  men  who 
have  summarised  statistical  information 
from  the  result  of  I'lfty-two  years'  experi 
ence  of  the  system  in  their  own  country. 
Col.  Camille  Favre  is  one  of  these.  He 
gave  a  lecture  in  June,  1903,  before  the 
National  Service  League  in  London. 
The  Duke  of  Wellington,  President  of 
the  League,  alluded  to  the  lecturer  as 
"the  distinguished  Swiss  military  writer 
and  historian."  The  lecture  is  pub- 
lished in  pamphlet  form,  with  a  preface 
written  by  the  noble  duke  which  con- 
cludes as  follows:  "In  the  belief  that 
the  Swiss  militia  system  presents  a  sound 
model  on  which  we'  may  form  an  ade- 
quate and  efificient  home  defence  force, 
'A  Nation  in  Arms,'  without  laying  un- 
due burdens  upon  the  people,  without 
harmful  interference  with  industry,  and 
without  departing  from  those  traditions 
of  ci\ic  freedom  which  we  share  with 
the  Helvetian  Republic,  I  commend 
these  pages  to  the  thoughtful  considera- 
tions of  my  countrymen." 

The  first  thought,  by  way  of  digres- 
sion, that  at  once  arises  to  the  mind  of 
any  Canadian  is,  AVhat  on  earth  does 
England  need  the  Swiss  system  for,  cut 
off  as  she  is  from  all  the  world  by  one  of 
the  choppiest  and  most  disagreeable 
parts  of  the  storm-ridden  North  Atlantic 
ocean?  The  second  thought  is  that 
there  must,  however,  really  be  some- 
thing in  it  if  regular  organisations  to 
promote  patriotic  service  exist  in  Eng- 
land, headed  by  such  men  as  the 
Duke  of  Wellington,  and  that  we 
recollect  having  read  extracts  from 
speeches  of  Lord  Roberts  advocating 
these  principles.  And,  finally,  a  third 
thought  must  creep  up  in  oiu"  minds,  to 
the  effect  that  if,  indeed,  there  is  any 
real  need  for  the  Swiss  system  of  pat- 
riotic service,  as  against  the  Canadian 
"dollar'"  system,  in  sea-girt  England,  the 
matter  instantly  becomes  of  burning  in- 
terest to  every  Canadian  w^ho  realises 
that  the  only  bulwarks  that  exist  for  3 ,000 
miles  between  ourselves  and  a  pow-erful 
race  with  another  flag  are  the  loyal 
hearts  and  unarmed,  untrained  hands 
of  a  sturdy,  fast-growing  branch  of  the 
British  race. 

Among  hi?  opening  remarks  Col.  Favre 


says:  "If  we  wish  to  discover  the 
foundation  of  the  Swiss  army,  itself 
identical  with  the  Swiss  nation,  we  mu.st 
seek  it  in  her  past  history.  It  is  her 
hi.story  that  has  created  the  military 
spirit  and  the  national  traditions,  which, 
after  the  lapse  of  centuries,  form  the 
basis  of  our  military  .sy.stem  as  it  .stands 
to-day.  The  memory  of  the  great  deeds 
of  our  forefathers  remains  graven  on 
the  hearts  of  the  people,  and  is  kept 
aUve  by  festivals  and  public  commem- 
orations, which  it  is  customary  to  hold 
on  the  anniversaries  of  the  great  battle.s 
of  the  middle  ages.  It  is  remarkable 
that  these  celebrations  do  not  provoke 
any  resentment  on  the  part  of  the  de- 
scendants of  the  vanquished,  and  that,  in 
spite  of  diversity  of  language  and  of 
race,  the  sentiment  of  national  unity  is 
a  dominating  force." 

One  point  that  Col.  Favre  brings  out 
\ery  strongly  is  the  great  improvement 
in  the  class  of  the  Swiss  soldiery  since 
the  adoption  of  their  patriotic  service. 
In  connection  with  this  he  says:  "In  the 
old  days,  two  centuries  ago,  armies  were 
the  scum  of  the  population.  By  the 
beginning  of  last  century  things  had  be- 
gun to  improve;  but  since  the  adoption 
of  compulsory  universal  sennce,  which 
has  drawn  into  the  ranks  every  able- 
bodied  man  of  the  nation,  the  personnel 
has  undergonea  very  considerable  change." 
Of  the  necessity  of  the  system  to  the 
community  he  says:  "But  whatever  the 
future  may  have  in  store  for  us,  one 
thing  is  quite  certain,  namely,  that  if 
we  wish  to  counteract  the  evils  inherent 
in  a  democracy  by  a  system  of  national 
discipline,  we  must  make  a  beginning 
either  at  the  school-boy's  desk  or  on  the 
parade  ground.  In  no  other  way  can 
a  nation  be  taught  self-control." 

In  this  connection  it  is  not  impossible 
to  imagine  the  day  coming  when  Cana- 
dians may  pray  to  be  delivered  from  a 
bureaucracy  more  intolerant  than  any 
knoAATi  form  of  aristocracy. 

Col.  Fabre  sums  up  the  whole  experi- 
ence of  the  fifty- two  years'  trial  of  pat- 
riotic system  in  Switzerland,  coupled 
with  his  personal  knowledge  of  it,  in  the 
following  conclusions:  ^^ Judging,  then, 
from    the   experiences   of   Switzerland   we 


264 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


may  sajely  say  that  compulsory  service, 
besides  being  intrinsically  sound  and 
right,  is  beneficial  to  the  country  as  a 
whole  and  to  the  individual  man.  It  is 
right  that  in  a  country  which  calls 
itself  free  every  citizen  should  make 
a  personal  contribution  towards  the  de- 
fence of  his  home.  It  is  not  right  that 
this  sacred  duty  should  be  left  to  those 
who  make  soldiering  their  profession, 
or  to  those  who,  actuated  by  the  loftiest 
motives,  are  prepared  of  their  own  free 
will  to  devote  a  large  part  of  their  time 
and  money  to  the  cause.  If  the  material 
and  moral  advantages  of  education  are 
to  be  realised  to  the  full,  it  becomes 
imperative  that  every  man  should  fully 
understand  the  meaning  of  the  words 
duty,  obedience,  discipline  and  self- 
sacrifice  in  time  of  war.  And  not  only 
from  the  moral  standpoint  is  military 
service  thoroughly  sound,  but  also  for 
purely  physical  reasons.  We  must  take 
what  stand  we  can  against  the  physical 
degeneration  which  is  one  of  the  inevit- 
able consequences  of  modern  civilisation. 
Finally,  it  is  well  that  all  classes  of  men, 
brought  together  by  the  common  duty 
of  military  service,  should  mix  freelv 
\vith  each  other.  Many  false  notions  will 
be  dissipated,  many  Hfelong  friendships 
will  be  formed.  If,  indeed,  we  feel  any 
misgi\ings  lest  some  of  the  younger  men 
pick  up  bad  habits  from  their  town-bred 
comrades,  it  should  be  perfectly  easy, 
by  the  exercise  of  some  judgment,  to  re- 
fuse admission  to  those  who  do  not 
appear  to  offer  a  sufficient  guarantee  of 
good  behaviour."  (In  the  case  of  Japan, 
as  many  more  men  every  year  are  liable 
for  service  than  they  can  afford  to  train, 
the  foregoing  principle  is  brought  much 
into  use.  Thus  it  is  a  mark  of  honour 
to  be  chosen  in  that  country.) 

"But  now  you  will  ask.  What  are  the 


drawbacks  to  universal  service  ?  In  the 
first  place,  the  personal  inconvenience 
to  the  civil  population.  But,  as  I  have 
endeavoured  to  show  you,  this  incon- 
venience is  in  reality  a  blessing  in  dis- 
guise, and  confers  great  benefits  upon 
the  nation  as  a  whole.  By  developing 
the  character,  and  giving  a  certain  sta- 
bility, the  sum  total  of  the  moral  and 
material  energy  of  the  country  is  largely 
increased.  The.  second  drawback  is  the 
risk  inseparable  from  all  human  efforts. 
It  might  prove  a  failure  (Col.  Favre  was 
speaking  in  England),  but  if  a  country  were 
unable  to  produce  a  satisfactory  army  by 
this  means,  it  would  timply  mean  that  the 
moral  stamina  of  the  people  had  so  far 
degenerated  that  they  refused  to  make  the 
sacrifice  necessary  for  national  safety.  A 
national  army  is,  for  good  or  evil,  the 
national  barometer.  If  the  army  does  not 
prosper,  it  means  that  the  country  despairs 
of  itself.  Is  it  not  well  worth  while,  then, 
making  an  effort  towards  its  salvation?" 
To  those  who  have  read  thus  far,  the 
deduction  will  be  very  clear  tliat  the 
popular  prejudices,  which  undoubtedly 
exist,  against  what  people  have  in 
their  minds  as  "conscription"  are 
due  entirely  to  misunderstanding.  Any- 
thing can  be  overdone.  The  most 
sacred  subjects  can  be  misrepresented 
and  misused.  Where  the  training  of 
men  to  make  them  fit  to  defend  their 
firesides  takes  the  form  of  years  of  ser- 
vice, the  thing  is  overdone,  is  unneces- 
sary, and  is  a  burden.  But  where  a 
form  of  national  patriotic  ser\'ice  can  be 
carried  on  somewhat  as  in  Switzerland, 
it  becomes  a  benefit  to  the  individual 
and  to  the  community  in  many  ways,  and 
might  easily  be  the  means  of  defeating 
the  ends  of  some  powerful  aggressive 
nation  who  could  otherwise  tear  down 
our  flag  and  conquer  our  country. 


TO  BE  COXCLUDED  IX  THE  FEBRUARY  XU.MBER 


^ra^RgiA 


wafraseL 


A  Sequel  to 
"THE  GLOVE  STAKES" 


jAEBURN,  the  astute,  the 
cool-nerved,  the  boyish- 
faced  plunger  that  scorch- 
ed the  betting-ring  with 
a  playful  smile  on  his 
lips,  was  sauntering 
through  Lincoln  Park  so 
early  that  the  birds  peeped  at  him  in- 
quiringly. It  was  quite  too  early  for  a 
well-dressed  human.  But  that  was  Rae- 
bum's  way  of  life;  he  kept  as  clean  physi- 
cally and  morally  as  he  could,  environed 
by  doubtful  associations  as  he  was.  The 
horses  and  the  dollars  he  considered 
clean;  but  where  others  faced  the  bottle 
or  the  cards,  he  roosted  early  and  rose 
early. 

Just  now  he  was  turning  over  in  his 
mind  the  matter  of  Pibroch's  presence 
at  the  Woodlawn  races.  A  slight  mys- 
tery over  a  horse  had  a  charm  for  Rae- 
bum's  grappling  mind.  Mystery  meant 
a  projected  coup;  and  in  every  coup, 
with  its  necessarily  limited  elect,  was 
room  and  chance  for  a  master  hand. 

Suddenly  the  student  was  reached 
from  his  deep  retrospective  study  of 
Pibroch's  races  in  the  past  by  a  woman's 
cry  and  the  haphazard  clatter  of  iron- 
shod  hoofs.  A  dozen  paces  away  a  girl 
dangled,  foot  in  stirrup,  from  a  blood- 
bay  horse,  that,  half  held  by  the  clutched 
rein,  head  drawn  to  chest,  struggled  to 
break  into  a  frenzied  race  of  death. 

Raebum,  man  of  quick  decision,  lithe 
and  strong  as  a  panther,  sprang  for- 
ward and,  as  the  animal's  head  came  up 
with  the  loosened  rein,  slipped  his  fin- 
gers through  the  ring  of  the  snaffle,  and 
swung  his  weight  against  the  bay's 
shoulder.  Then  comm.enced  a  fierce 
struggle  for  mastery  betv.een  the  fright- 
crazed  horse  and  the  cool,  strong,  deter- 
mined man.  Once  Raebum  was  lifted 
clear  ofiF  his  feet;  then  he  had  the  bay's 

5—265 


head  down  against  his  chest,  and  his 
fingers  closed  over  tlie  wide-spread  nos- 
trils till  the  struggling  creature  choked 
for  breath.  The  man  was  dragged 
twenty  feet;  then  the  horse  was  brought 
to  his  knees,  his  lungs  strangled  by  the 
clutch  on  the  nostrils.  ,  But  he  was  up, 
and  they  still  fought — always  in  a  circle 
to  the  left,  that  kept  the  cutting  ironed 
hoofs  clear  of  the  girl.  A  crumpled 
sheet  of  brown  paper,  tortured  by  a 
scurrying  wind,  crackled  insanely  against 
the  white-stockinged  legs  of  the  horse. 
This  was  the  inanimate  fiend  that  had 
caused  the  trouble.  A  sudden  gust 
whisked  the  paper  to  the  grassed  sward 
fifty  feet  away,  and  the  bay,  held  in 
that  strong  grasp,  cried  inwardly:  "Mas- 
ter!" and  stood  still,  trembling  like  a 
leaf. 

With  his  left  hand  still  on  the  snaf- 
fle, Raebum  cautiously  stretched  his 
right  till  he  reached  the  stirrup;  with  a 
\vrench  he  slipped  the  girl's  foot  from 
its  holding-iron,  and  swung  the  horse 
clear.  Then,  as  he  turned,  his  eyes 
opened  wide  with  astonishment,  and  in- 
voluntarily he  exclaimed:  "By  Jove, 
you're  plucky!" 

The  girl  was  on  her  feet.  "I'm  not 
hurt,"  she  said  simply,  "thanks  to  you, 
sir;  you've  saved  my  life." 

"Nothing  of  the  sort.     I— I " 

"Yes,  you  did;  I  saw  it  all;  you  did 
just  the  cleverest  thing — you  know  about 
horses." 

The  girl  had  big  brown  eyes,  and 
there  was  a  soft  Southern  drawl  in  her 
voice. 

"Are  you  hurt?  Shall  I  get  you  a 
cab?"  Raebum  interrupted  the  girl's 
flow  of  gratitude. 

"I'll  ride  Redskin,  thank  you;  I'm  not 
hurt." 

"But " 


£66 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


"Oh,  nothing  will  happen!  It  wasn't 
his  fault;  I  was  careless — I  fancy  I  was 
dreaming.  The  paper  startled  him — 
he's  been  a  race-horse,  and  has  nerves 
— he  jumped,  and  I  fell;  that's  all." 

Raebum  held  his  hand  to  his  knee, 
and  from  it  the  girl  vaulted  Hghtly  to 
the  saddle.  There  was  a  half  invita- 
tion in  the  brown  eyes,  and  Raebum 
walked  along  beside  the  stiU  restive 
horse,  saying:  "This  is  my  way,  too. 
Redskin  does  look  as  though  he  might 
gaUop  some  with  those  powerful  quar- 
ters.    Do  you  race  him?" 

"Oh,  no;  he  belongs  to  Jack — "  The 
girl  hesitated,  and  the  man,  shooting 
an  upward  glance,  saw  that  her  face 
was  rose-blushed,  also  that  the  features, 
well  chiselled,  were  good  to  look  upon, 
and  the  brown  eyes  swimmingly  full  of 
unknowing. 

"Jack  is  your  brother?" 

"No;  he's  a — a  friend." 

"Does  'Jack'  race  Redskin?  Is  he  a 
racing  man?  I'm  interested  because  I 
— well,  I  see  a  good  deal  of  racing,  one 
way  or  another." 

"No,  I  don't  think  he  knows  much 
about  it — he  does  sometimes."  The  girl 
hesitated,  looked  at  her  companion, 
then  brushed  the  horse's  black  mane 
with  her  riding-crop,  as  though  she 
were  debating  something. 

"Well,"  continued  Raebum,  "you  must 
tell  him  not  to  bet  on  the  horses.  Tell 
Jach'" — he  showed  his  even,  white  teeth 
in  a  smile — "tell  him  it's  a  foolish,  los- 
ing game.  You  see,  I  know  about  this 
thing,  and — and — well,  I  like  pluck." 

"He's  not  going  to  bet  after  to-day." 

"Why  'after  to-day'?" 

"He's  going  to  make  a  lot  of  money; 
a  friend's  horse  is  going  to  win,  and 
after  to-day  we — I  mean.  Jack  is  not 
going  to  bet  again.  Do  you  bet  on 
horses?  You  do?  You  saved  my  life 
— I'd  like  to  show  you  that  I'm  grate- 
ful— if  I  told  you  the  horse's  name,  you 
could  bet,  and  make  a  lot  of  money,  too, 
couldn't  you?" 

"Please  don't — stop,  you  mustn't." 
Raebum  raised  his  hand  wamingly. 
Too  late!     It  was  out. 

"Pibroch  is  the  horse's  name."  The 
girhsh  lips  threw  the  words  at  him  al- 


most defiantly — certainly  with  ingenu- 
ous naivete. 

The  man  flushed  guiltily.  He  had 
stolen  a  stable  secret.  But  what  an  ex- 
traordinar\'  coincidence — telepathic,  to 
say  the  least  of  it;  the  very  horse  that 
had  •  occupied  his  thoughts  when  the 
girl's  frightened  cry  had  rung  in  his  ears. 

"Have  I  done  anything  dreadful?" 
she  queried.     "You  look  shocked." 

"No — that  is — well,  you  mustn't  be- 
tray Jack's  secrets.  But  a  woman  that 
can  keep  a  secret  is — well,  dangerous." 

"I'm  sorry;  but  you  saved  my  life, 
Mr. ?" 

"Raebum,  Miss ?" 


"Brooks."  The  girl  smiled.  She  had 
pulled  the  bay  to  a  stand.  She  pointed 
to  a  many-gabled  house  with  her  riding- 
crop,  and  continued:  "I'm  Uving  w^th 
my  aunt.  My  real  home  is  in  Georgia. 
Will  you  be  at  the  place  where  they 
race  to-day?  I  want  Jack  to  meet  you 
— to  thank  you." 

"And  to  tell  me  about  Pibroch,  eh? 
Yes,  I'll  look  for  you  at  the  course.  I'm 
glad  you  escaped  so  well."  He  lifted 
his  hat,  and  the  girl  reached  down  her 
small,  gloved  hand.  Raebum  just 
touched  the  finger-tips,  as  Redskin,  still 
ners-ous,  lunged  sideways. 

A  smile  conquered  Raebum's  strenu- 
ous attempts  at  suppression,  and  \ATin- 
kled  his  lips  as  he  tumed  away.  It  was 
too  droll,  this  grotesque  idea  of  his  re- 
ceiving a  tip)  from  a  girl  who  spoke  of 
the  race-course  as  "the  place  where 
they  race."  There  was  a  sweetness 
about  the  simple,  direct  expression  of 
gratitude;  the  sublime  faith  in  Jack's 
certainty  of  winning  a  lot  of  money  andl 
then  swearing  off.  The  whole  thing 
flitted  through  Raebum's  experienced 
mind  like  a  dream  of  stepping  oft'  Broad- 
way into  a  pasture-field  where  maids  in 
white  poke  bonnets  milked  quiescent  cows. 

"So  Pibroch's  due  to-day,"  he  mut- 
tered as,  his  hotel  now  the  definite  ob- 
ject of  attainment,  he  swung  along  loose- 
limbed.  "I  must  find  out  who  really 
has  the  horse  here." 

He  drew  from  his  pocket  a  book  of 
race  entries. 

"Mr.  Bender's  Pibroch.  I  guess  Mr. 
Bender     is    from     No-Man 's-Land — the 


THE    GIRL   FROM  GEORGIA 


267 


man  in  the  moon.  It's  a  hundred  to 
one  Pibroch  is  running  for  the  books. 
And  if  I'm  a  judge,  the  big  brown  eyes 
of  the  girl  from  Georgia  will  swim  fuller 
of  tears  than  laughter  after  Jack's  plunge- 
on  Pibroch.  Highland  doesn't  make 
any  mistakes,  and  he  warned  me  in  New 
York  that  Pibroch  had  been  sold  to  a 
short-card  gang.  I'm  going  to  break 
up  that  piny  just  for  fun — and  for  the 
sake  of  that  girl  from  Georgia." 

For  an  hour  Raebuni  trailed  the  name 
of  Bender  through  Woodlawn,  in  and 
out  of  hotels,  and  a  couple  of  saloons 
where  were  hand-books,  without  coming 
upon  the  slightest  trace  of  a  corporate 
body  labelled  Bender.  Leading  ques- 
tions, diplomatically  put,  threw  no  light 
upon  the  ownership  of  Pibroch.  In 
all  Woodlawn  nobody  evinced  the  sHght- 
est  interest  in  the  horse.  Nothing  of 
his  quality  had  leaked. 

Chafing  at  the  complete  stillness  of 
this  thing  that  should  have  clinked  a  lit- 
tle in  some  link  of  its  chain,  Raebum, 
his  eyes  lowered  in  concentrated  thought 
as  he  walked,  almost  fell  over  a  little 
man. 

"Pardon— by  Jove!  you,  Paddy?" 

It  was  Paddy  Boone,  the  jockey;  and 
Paddy  owed  the  full  success  of  his  up- 
coming to  the  man  who,  because  of 
that,  had  privilege  to  ask:  "What  are 
you  riding  to-day,  Paddy?" 

"Nothing  in  the  first  race,  sir;  in  the 
second,  the  Lincoln  Handicap,  I  ride 
Pibroch." 

"Pibroch!" 

No  wonder  Raebum  reiterated  the 
name  with  an  emphasis  of  svuprise. 
Woodlawn  seemed  full  of  Pibrochs — 
just  the  name;  but  here,  surely,  would 
be  tangibility.  And  if  Boone  had  the 
mount,  the  horse  must  be  out  to  win. 
There  wasn't  money  enough  in  the  full 
coffers  of  the  bookies  to  bribe  Paddy 
Boone — he  knew  that.  Besides,  when 
the  owner  put  up  one  of  the  best  jockeys 
in  America,  he  must  mean  wanning. 

"WTio's  the  owner?"  Raebum  asked. 

"Mr.  Bender,  sir." 

"Who's  Bender  ?    Never  heard  of  him." 

"I  don't  know\  I  never  heard  of  him 
before  yesterday." 

"^^^lo  engaged  you?" 


"A  man  named  Cusick.  He's  man- 
ager for  Bender." 

"Cusick — Bart  Cusick!  Paddy,  that 
man  is  the  whole  gamut;  he's — did  he 
make  any  break?  Did  he — well,  sug- 
gest any  funny  business?" 

"Not  on  your  life,  Mr.  Raebum!  Do 
you  think  I'd  take  the  mount  if " 

"No,  I  know  you  wouldn't,  Paddy; 
they  must  be  going  to  win." 

"I  think  it's  a  sure  thing,  sir.  I  think 
you  can  bet  the  full  limit  on  Pibroch. 
I  know  he's  well,  for  I  see  him  do  a 
sweating  gallop  with  his  clothes  on,  and 
he  was  puUin'  the  boy  out  of  the  saddle. 
And  you  know  what  the  horse  was  like 
early  in  the  season,  sir,  dowm  on  the 
Metropolitan  tracks.  Anyway,  Mr.  Rae- 
bum, I'll  w'in  on  him,  no  matter  what 
they  want." 

"You  stick  to  that,  Paddy.  I'll  see 
you  before  the  race." 

"So  it's  Bart  Cusick's  hand,"  Rae- 
bum thought.  "A  sweet  friend  for 
Jack!  A  delightful  prospect  this  for 
the  girl  from  Georgia.  That  tumble 
this  morning  came  near  cracking  her 
neck,  but  it  may  save  her  from  break- 
ing her  heart.  Cusick  is  no  philanthro- 
pist, and  Jack  is  up  against  it.  But  it 
puzzles  me." 

Again  he  visited  a  couple  of  hotels, 
poring  studiously  over  their  registers. 
He  smiled  when  he  read  in  one,  "Bar- 
ton Cusick,  New  York,"  and  beneath, 
on  the  next  line,  "Fritz  Finkle,  New 
York."  He  noted  that  their  allotted 
rooms  w-ere  next  each  other.  "A  worthy 
running-mate,  ^Ir.  Cusick!  Finkle,  book- 
maker, is  about  as  immoral  as  Bart 
Cusick,  gentleman  tout;  and  I  guess 
Bender  stands  for  both  names.  Gal- 
lant old  Pibroch,  you  thoroughbred, 
you've  fallen  among  the  forty  thieves." 

Raebiim  took  a  seat  in  a  recessed 
comer  of  the  office,  and  watched  over  a 
paper  for  occult  testimony  of  the  con- 
nection between  the  two  crooked  ones. 
Presently  Cusick  and  a  square-shoul- 
dered young  man  stepped  from  the 
elevator;  the  racing  man  laid  his  hand 
upon  the  young  fellow's  shoulder  re- 
assuringly, and  his  face  was  the  picture 
of  sincerity. 

"I'll  bet  that  is  Jack  getting  the  final 


268 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


tip  that  Pibroch^  is  to  wan,"  muttered 
Raebum;  "he  looks  an  easy  mark  for 
Cusick." 

The  young  man  of  easy  confidence 
grasped  Cusick's  hand  gratefully,  and, 
saying  something  which  Raebum  could 
not  hear,  nodded  his  head  decisively  in 
parting. 

"When  he  had  gone,  Cusick  went  out 
for  a  minute;  but  presently  he  reap- 
peared cheek  by  jowl  with  Book-maker 
Finkle.  A  satisfied  smile  hovered  about 
the  thick  lips  of  the  rich-gorged  man  of 
odds,  and  the  tout's  face  seemed  to 
cur\'e  Uke  a  hawk's  beak  as  he  explained 
to  his  confrere  in  this  thief's  game  how 
they  were  to  get  a  thousand  easy  ex- 
pense money  while  they  fooled  the  pubUc. 

"That  much  for  mine,"  Raebum 
laughed  softly,  as  he  shpped  quietly 
through  the  door  and  hurried  to  his  own 
hotel. 

StiU,  he  was  puzzled.  He  knew  Cu- 
sick's general  game,  which  was  to  get 
into  the  confidence  of  some  man  with 
money  and  betting  tendencies,  and  steer 
him  on  to  a  loser,  sharing  the  spoil  with 
the  book-maker.  But  they  had  engaged 
Boone  to  ride,  and  the  horse  was  fit, 
that  meant  winning.  They  had  the 
money  to  bet  themselves  if  the  horse 
could  win,  and  wouldn't  give  the  tip 
to  any  one.  Indeed,  it  was  puzzHng, 
even  to  Raebum.  Also  it  was  alto- 
gether lovely,  fascinating,  this  puzzle 
of  many  rings  that  wouldn't  come  off. 

Though  Raebum  hurried,  he  had 
neglected  some  matters  of  his  own  over 
this  affair  of  the  girl  from  Georgia;  and 
these  personal  things — a  change  of  at- 
tire, his  lunch,  and  an  importunate 
friend  who  could  not  be  shaken  oft" — 
ate  into  the  time  that  is  always  swift- 
fleeting;  and  he  reached  the  course  late, 
just  as  its  fevered  occupants  were  in 
the  throes  of  preparing  for  the  first  race. 

His  sharp  eyes  questioning  the  lawn 
for  the  girl,  Raebum  passed  twice  up 
and  down  the  grassed  floor.  Ah!  there 
were  the  big  brown  eyes  of  the  girl,  and, 
almost  hiding  her,  were  the  wide  shoul- 
ders which  now  most  certainly  meant 
Jack — Mr.  Hutton,  as  the  girl  intro- 
duced him,  full  of  thanks  to  Raebum 
for  saving  the  lady's  life. 


"Now,  tell  Mr.  Raeburn  about  Pi- 
broch, Jack." 

"Yes,  there's  no  reason  why  I  shouldn't 

now,"  Jack  laughed,  "for  my  money Js 

'on,  and  at  a  good  price,  too."  ,, 

Raebum  started.  "You've  bet  al- 
ready? \Vhy,  there's  no  betting  on  the 
second  race  yet?"  : 

"I  know  that.  That's  where  I  get  the 
bulge  on  the  pubUc  bv  knowing  some- 
thing." '  r,! 

"Who  told  you  about  Pibroch?" 

Jack  hesitated.  "I  promised  not;  to 
tell  any  one,"  he  answered;  "but — weU, 
you're  to  know  all  about  it,  so — a  Mr. 
Cusick;  he  manages  the  stable  for  the 
o^^Tler,  Mr.  Bender.  They're  backing 
Pibroch  away  at  the  pool-rooms  in 
New  York,  for  he's  a  sure  winner." 

"Is  Cusick  an  old  friend?  I  have  a 
good  reason  for  asking  this." 

"No,  I  met  him  here — he  came  to  the 
bank  to  get  large  bills  iuv  a  lot  of  small 
ones.  He  volunteered  to  do  me  a  good 
turn  for  the  trouble  I  took  over  his 
Httle  matter." 

"GadI  this  is  a  thieves'  game,"  Rae- 
bum grunted. 

"A  what?" 

"Well,  this  Cusick  is  a  tout,  a  race 
thief,  and  you've-  bet  your  money  with 
the  man  who  owns  Pibroch.  Now, 
what  do  you  make  of  that?" 

"I— I— don't  know." 

"Neither  do  I — quite." 

The  girl's  face  was  white,  her  eyes 
were  big  with  dread. 

"Well,  he's  a  crook,  I'm  sorry  to  say, 
and  we  must  see  what  his  game  is. 
How  did  you  bet  so  early?" 

"Cusick  said  the  horse  would  be 
backed  as  soon  as  the  betting  on  the 
race  commenced,  and  he  could  get  the 
book-makers  to  lay  him  a  better  price 
before  the  first  race.  He  got  me  four 
thousand  to  one  thousand  dollars,  and. 
the  horse  wiU  start  two-to-one  or  less."     ' 

"Let  me  see  your  ticket,  please." 

Jack  drew  two  betting-tickets  from 
his  pocket. 

"Ah,  I  thought  so— Finkle  &:  Co. 
Just  stand  here,"  Raebum  commanded. 
"No,  that  won't  do — go  into  the  club 
lunch-room,  Afr.  Hutton,  and  wait. 
Don't  stir  from  there,  as  you  value  your 


THE    GIRL    FROM    GKOUdlA 


^09 


thousand.  I'll  he  back  1)efure — well, 
soon." 

He  almost  ran  to  the  paddock.  Ah, 
luck  was  with  him!  There  was  Paddy 
Boone,  looking  like  a  gaudy  wasp  in  a 
black  jacket  .striped  with  yellow.  Rae- 
burn  ran  his  eye  over  the  throng  of 
people.  Cusick  was  nowhere  in  sight. 
He  sauntered  leisurely  up  to  the  jockey, 
and,  speaking  in  a  low  tone,  said:  "Pad- 
dy, r'inkle  owns  Pibroch,  and  Cusick 
is  running  fool  money  into  the  book  on 
the  horse;  that  means  he  won't  win." 

"My  God,  sir,  I  won't  ride  a  stiff  'un! 
I  might  get  ruled  olT  for  life.  I'll  go  to 
the  stewards!"  There  was  a  wail  in 
the  boy's  voice. 

"No,  you  won't,  Paddy;  I'll  see  you 
through.  Go  down  to  Pibroch's  stabling 
— hurry,  I'll  wait  here — who's  in  charge  ?" 

"A  nigger,  Dave  Johnson." 

"He'll  be  easy.  Find  out  if  they've 
given  Pibroch  anything — you  can  tell. 
Find  out,  if  you  have  to  promise  the 
nigger  five  hundred — I'll  pay.  Hurry! 
Make  an  excuse  that  you've  forgot  the 
weight  you're  to  make — anything." 

When  the  boy  had  gone,  Raeburn 
shifted  his  position  to  the  gate  that  led 
from  the  paddock  to  the  course  stabling, 
which  was  but  fifty  yards  away.  Twice 
he  looked  at  his  watch — strong  tribute 
to  a  most  unusual  nervous  interest. 
Three  minutes,  five  minutes — ah,  there 
was  the  wasphke  jacket  coming  up  the 
little  hill  from  the  stabling  hollo\\-. 

.A.nd  the  boy's  face!  Wlien  their 
eyes  met,  Raebuni  slipped  into  a  near- 
by paddock  stall,  followed  in  nervous 
haste  by  the  jockey. 

"It's  a  ringer,  sir,"  he  gasped.  "Two 
of  them " 

"What  the  devil  do  you  mean,  Paddy  ?" 

"  Do  you  remember  the  chestnut  horse, 
Sammy  B.,  sir — he  was  no  good?" 

"I  don't." 

"Well,  I  do;  I  rode  him.  And  they're 
goin'  to  run  Sammy  B.  to-day  as  Pi- 
broch." 

"Of  all  the  frappe  nerve!  I  see — I 
understand!  And  they're  putting  you 
up  so  the  public  and  the  stew'ards  will 
see  a  strong  ride  on  this  horse  that  can't 
win;  and  that's  why  Cusick  is  touting 
the  monev  into  Finkle's  book." 


"Pibroch's  there,  too,  sir;  both  horses 
are  in  No.   12  stable." 

"Great  Scott!  Icicles  for  nerves!" 
Raeburn  knitted  his  brows.  Was  there 
ever  such  a  puzzle  in  racing? 

"I've  got  it,  Paddv.  Do  the  horses 
look  alike?" 

"Their  breeders  wouldn't  know  them 
apart,  sir.  I  wouldn't  if  I  hadn't  been 
lookin'  for  trouVjle,  and  didn't  know 
Sammy  B.  like  my  own  brother.  He 
used  to  bore  out  in  running,  so  he  was 
raced  with  a  pricker  on  the  bit;  and  I 
saw  the  old  marks  of  the  brads  on  the 
lips  of  the  horse  they  said  was  Pibroch 
do^vn  at  the  stable.  Pibroch  hasn't  got 
no  marks  like  that,  'cause  he  runs  straight 
as  an  arrow.  Just  then  a  horse  pokes 
his  nose  out  of  the  next  stall,  and  I 
knows  it's  the  real  Pibroch.  They  were 
both  blanketed,  sir." 

"Good  boy,   Paddy!    I'U  skip.     Stay 
here  for  a  httle,  then  get  ready.     Weigh " 
out    for    Pibroch — I    think    you'll    ride 
him.     If  you  don't,   I'll  stop   it  at   the 
last  minute." 

The  bugle  was  sounding  for  the  jock- 
eys to  mount  horses  for  the  first  race 
as  Raeburn  hurried  through  the  pad- 
dock and  dove  into  the  lunch-room. 

"Here,  Mr.  Hutton,"  he  said,  draw- 
ing a  roll  of  bank-notes  from  his  pocket, 
"here's  a  thousand  dollars.  I  want 
you  to  nail  this  Cusick — tell  him  that 
you  want  to  bet  another  thousand.  Keep 
him  aw^ay  from  the  paddock,  even  if 
you  have  to  knock  him  do^vn.  It's  all 
right.  If  it  isn't,  I'll  appeal  to  the  stew- 
ards at  the  last  minute.  Give  me  that 
betting-ticket — ^)-ou  have  two — the  small 
one — that's  it,  four  hundred  to  one 
himdred  dollars." 

"I  bet  that  for  the  lady,"  Jack  said, 
with  an  apologetic  smile. 

"I'm  going  to  use  it  to  make  your 
other  bet  come  off.  Get  my  thousand 
on  sure."  Then  he  was  gone,  racing 
through  the  paddock  and  down  to  the 
stabling.  Just  in  time.  A  chestnut- 
headed  horse  was  on  the  point  of  be- 
ing led  out  of  a  stall  in  No.  12. 

"Hold  on,  Johnson,"  Raeburn  cried. 
"Put  Sammy  back;  we  want  the  other 
one!" 


270 


THE   CANADIAN   IVIAGAZINE 


The  eyes  of  the  big  negro  became 
large,  wtute-rimmed  china  alleys. 
"What's  dat,  boss?" 
"Finkle  has  switched.  We're  out  for 
a  killing,  see?  Here's  yours?"  Rae- 
bum  shoved  the  ticket,  "Four  hundred 
to  one  hundred  dollars,  Pibroch," 
stamped  "Finkle  &  Co.,"  into  the  train- 
er's hands. 

"Now  sliift,  quick,"  he  commanded. 
"Finkle  wants  Pibroch — there  he  is  in 
the  next  stall.  Get  him  out.  Some- 
thing has  leaked,  and  if  we  run  Sammy, 
we'll  get  ruled  off  for  life." 

The  darky  hesitated.  He  knew  Rae- 
bum — knew  him  for  a  big  turf  plunger, 
and  that  if  he  were  backing  Pibroch 
there  would  be  thousands  won;  but  he 
was  confused,  and  he  was  a  slow-witted 
negro. 

"WTiere's  de  boss,  sir?" 
"Cusick?  He's  betting  my  money  in 
the  ring" — which  was  really  quite  true. 
"Hurry  up,  you're  late  now.  There'll  be 
some  of  the  officials  coming  dowTi  here, 
first  thing  we  know." 

Still  in  a  woolly-brained  muddle,  the 
darky  ordered  the  stable-boy  to  bring 
out  the  other  horse. 

Raebum  waited  until  the  real  Pi- 
broch was  on  his  way  to  the  paddock, 
then  he  followed.  In  the  paddock  he 
said  to  Paddy  Boone r  "This  is  Pibroch, 
isn't  it?" 
"Yes,  sir." 

"Keep  the  nigger  busy,  Paddy.  Make 
him  saddle  at  once."  Then  he  took  up 
his  stand  close  to  the  stall  in  which  was 
Pibroch.  Cusick  might  come  into  the 
paddock  to  speak  to  the  trainer — prob- 
ably would,  so  Raebum  waited  to  inter- 
cept him.  Presently  he  saw  that  shck 
gentleman  heading  for  Pibroch's  stall. 

Raebum  waited  until  the  tout  was 
close,  then  he  stepped  forward  and 
gieeted  Cusick  cordially.  The  latter 
was  flattered.  To  be  taken  notice  of 
by  the  great  plunger  was  decidedly 
v/orth  something. 

The  plunger  took  Cusick  familiarly 
by  the  arm  and  led  him  away,  sa\ang: 
"Do  you  know  an}i;hing  about  that 
horse  Pibroch?  I'd  like  to  have  a  bet 
on  him — he  ought  to  win — but  I  heard 
a    whisper    that    some    thieves  have  got 


him  here,  and  I  don't  know  what  he's 
doing.     Have  you  heard  anything?" 

Strangely  enough,  they  were  both 
actuated  by  the  same  governing  desire 
— Raebum  to  keep  Cusick  away  from 
Pibroch  and  his  coloured  trainer,  and 
Cusick  equally  anxious  to  keep  the 
acute-eyed  plunger  away  from  what 
Cusick  supposed  to  be  Sammy  B.  So. 
happy  in  the  achievement  of  their  wishes, 
they  sauntered  on  across  the  stand  lawn 
and  down  toward  the  betting-ring. 

"I  think  Pibroch  ought  to  win,"  Cu- 
sick said.  "The  owner's  backing  him — 
I  know  that  for  a  fact.  I'm  backing  him 
myself." 

By  this  they  had  reached  the  book- 
makers' mart. 

"Well,  I'll  pay  five  hundred  on  Pi- 
broch and  chance  it,"  Raebum  said. 
"He's  three  to  one,  I  see." 

"There's  three  and  one-half,"  seven 
to  two,"  suggested  Cusick,  pointing  with 
his  thumb  toward  Finkle's  book. 

"Gad!  I'U  have  five  hundred  of  that," 
Raebum  declared. 

And  as  he  handed  up  the  yellow- 
backed  certificates  of  gold,  Finkle  winked 
solemnly  over  liis  head  at  Cusick,  and 
Cusick  winked  back;  and  when  Rae- 
bum had  departed,  the  book-maker 
leaned  over  to  his  sheet- waiter  and  said: 
"God  in  heaven,  Jake!  did  you  ever  see 
such  a  day  for  suckers?  And,  of  all 
men,  Jim  Raebum!" 

And  Raebum,  clinging  with  tenacity 
to  Cusick,  threaded  his  way  through  the 
stunted  forest  of  humans  across  the 
lawn  to  a  bench  on  which  sat  Hutton 
and  the  girl  from  Georgia,  saying: 
"The  horses  have  gone  to  the  post;  let's 
watch  the  race  from  here.  Why,  Mr. 
Hutton!"  Raebum  cried,  holding  out 
his  hand  to  the  young  man  with  eager- 
ness; then  he  winked,  and  Jack  took  the 
hint.  "Ah,  you  know  Mr.  Cusick? 
Good!  W^e'll  watch  this  race  together. 
WTiat  are  you  betting  on,  Hutton?  Pi- 
broch? So  am  I — I've  just  bet  five 
himdred  on  him.  He'll  win — ]SIr.  Cu- 
sick says  so;  it's  all  right."  He  nodded 
cheerfully. 

The  race  was  three-quarters  of  a  mile; 
and  over  at  the  six-furlong  post,  behind 
the  barrier,  stretched  across  the  course 


THE    GIRL   1  ROM    GEORGIA 


271 


like  a  fish-net,  eight  horses  gyrated  and 
interwove  like  goats  on  a  sun-warmed 
rock. 

"They've  doped  that  black.  Rocket," 
Raeburn  said  from  beneath  his  race- 
glasses;  "he's  shoved  his  nose  through 
the  barrier  twice.     He's  fair  crazy." 

"Sammy's  quiet "      Cusick,  in  his 

unctuous  interest  forgetting  that  it  was 
not  Finkle  beside  him,  thus  far  worded 
his  thoughts,  breaking  off  in  the  dawn 
of  intelligence  with  a  jerk  that  nearly 
threw  him  off  the  bench. 

"Eh?  Sammy?  There's  no  Sammy 
in  this  race,  is  there?"  and  the  plunger's 
placid  eyes  searched  Cusick's  face  with 
a  disconcerting  probe. 

"Ha!  ha!"  laughed  Cusick.  "I  mean 
the  little  nigger  on  Whistler.  He's 
asleep." 

Indeed,  Pibroch,  that  Cusick  thought 
was  Sammy,  was  possessed  of  the  un- 
ruffled quietude  that  great  horses  show 
at  the  starting-post.  The  big  chestnut 
wheeled  leisurely  under  the  gentle  hands 
of  Paddy  Boone,  as  each  line-up  was 
disrupted  by  the  foolish-brained  Rocket; 
and  then,  as  the  eight  came  forward 
groggily,  Hke  an  awkward  squad  of 
recruits,  Pibroch's  head  would  be  straight 
out,  his  powerful  limbs  carrying  his 
weight  evenly,  and  his  eye  on  the  gos- 
samer thing  of  restraint  that  barred  him 
from  the  joyous  battle  of  speed. 

Pibroch's  sluggish  at  the  post,"  Rae- 
burn remarked.  "He  may  get  left, 
with  that  crazy  dope-horse  breaking  up 
the  starts;  and  if  he  gets  left  we're  in 
the  soup,  Mr.  Hutton." 

This  he  backed  up  with  a  wink  and  a 
little  nod,  and  Jack,  guessing  at  his 
meaning,  said:  "Oh,  Pibroch  won't  get 
left;  the  starter  w^on't  let  them  away 
until  our  horse  is  in  the  lead.  You've 
arranged  that,  haven't  you,  Mr.  Cu- 
sick?" 

Raeburn  could  have  patted  Hutton 
on  the  back  for  this  glint  of  intelligence. 
Chuckling  inwardly,  he  stared  in  feigned 
astonishment  and  reproof  at  Cusick. 
The  latter  gentleman  laughed  uneasily, 
saying:  "That's  a  dangerous  joke,  Hut- 
I    ton.     Mr.  Raeburn  might  think " 

His  voice  was  drowned  by  a  commo- 
tion.    "Thev're    off!     There    thev    so!" 


voices  cried.  There  was  the  rustle  of 
dresses,  the  clatter  of  feet,  as  men  and 
women  clambered  to  stand  on  the  bench 
seats  on  the  lawn;  a  vibrant-ton gued 
bell  was  clattering  a  warning  to  the 
ring;  and  across  the  oval  field,  like  a 
mob  of  colts  that  had  croached  a  fence, 
the  eight  thoroughbreds  were  springing 
to  the  best  of  speed  and  endurance. 

Small,  strong  fingers  clutched  Rae- 
burn's  arm  and  pulled  their  owner  up 
to  the  bench  beside  him.  Turning,  he 
looked  into  the  big  bro\vn  eyes  that 
were  now  jet  black  with  the  intensity 
of  restrained  excitement. 

"Will  he  lose?"  she  gasped.  "He's 
behind — will  that  black  horse  win  now  ?  " 

Raeburn  studied  the  colour-mottled 
mass  of  legs  and  heads  and  undulating 
bodies  that  was  now^  drawing  out  seg- 
ments of  itself,  lengthening  Hke  the  body 
of  a  writhing  serpent,  as  the  fleeter 
ones  breasted  into  the  lead. 

"The  black?"  he  muttered.  "No, 
Rocket  W'On't  do — he's  got  a  pin-head 
boy  in  the  saddle."  He  shot  a  look  at 
his  program.  "Apprentice  allowance — 
I  thought  so — a  stable-boy,  running  the 
horse  off  his  legs.  Don't  w-orr\^  about 
the  black,  ]SIiss  Georgia;  he'll  crack  up." 

"But  our  horse  is  behind,  and  you 
said "  ""  1 

But  Raeburn 's  ears  were  adder's  ears; 
the  joy  of  the  struggle  across  the  ellipse 
of  chance,  the  course,  now  at  the  lower 
turn,  crept  into  his  soul,  and  he  raced 
with  the  eager,  straining  thoroughbreds. 
He  was  at  Paddy  Boone's  ear  with  his 
w'ise  counsel  and  his  admonition.  Open- 
mouthed,  the  black,  unchecked  by  the 
brainless  babe  on  his  back,  bmned  up 
his  strength  in  useless  speed;  raced  wdth 
the  posts  of  the  rail,  galloping  against 
himself  six  lengths  beyond  the  bay, 
Whistler,  and  the  white-legged  Mascot. 
Close  to  the  rail,  with  ears  pricked,  his 
outstretched  muzzle  nosing  jNIascot's  quar- 
ter, was  Pibroch,  his  boy  as  still,  as  mo- 
tionless, as  part  of  the  great  chestnut 
himself. 

"That's  the  trick,  Paddy,"  Raeburn 
w'hispered  to  his  glass.  "Wait,  my  boy; 
you've  got  all  the  best  of  it;  don't  fight 
them,  Paddy.  There  comes  the  black 
back  to  you — the  dope's  effervesced." 


272 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


At  the  bottom,  broadside  on,  the  rac- 
ing steeds  seemed  to  lengthen  out; 
optically  they  grew  many  feet;  their 
speed  magically  increased;  they  crept 
stride  by  stride  to  the  black.  At  the 
turn  into  the  straight,  the  line  of  sight 
again  was  a  necromancer;  the  four  that 
raced  in  front  were  like  one  team  in  a 
chariot-race;  the  colours  of  the  jackets 
blended — they  interwove  like  gay  rib- 
bons on  a  ^lay-pole.  Over  the  watch- 
ers was  a  hush  of  perplexity.  No  one 
knew;  no  one  called  in  triumph.  Even 
Raebum,  long  schooled,  waited  for  a 
sign.  Ah,  it  was  Rocket  stiU  in  the 
van!  He  saw  the  black  horse  sway  to 
the  rail  in  his  tiring,  and  blot  the  gold- 
yellow  of  the  chestnut  like  a  curtain 
bars  the  sunlight.  And  against  the. 
black's  flank  leaned  Whistler;  and  be- 
yond, hugging  Whistler,  twinkled  the 
white  legs  of  Mascot. 

"Damn  that  dope-horse!  I'd  Hke  to 
shoot  him.  He's  pocketed  Pibroch!" 
Raebum  muttered.  "Now,  Paddy,  good 
boy,  watch  for  your  opening." 

He  lowered  his  glasses,  and  stole  a 
look  at  the  girl's  face;  then  he  set  his 
teeth  and  watched  again  this  thing  that 
was  now  altogether  in  the  \icarious 
grasp  of  chance.  It  wasn't  the  tri\'ial 
thing  of  a  bet  won  or  lost;  it  was  happi- 
ness or  a  long  wait  for  the  girl  from 
Georgia  that  was  there  in  that  pocket 
fashioned  by  the  straggUng,  useless  black. 

"They're  all  riding  hke  devils,"  Cu- 
sick  declared — "all  but  the  boy  on  Pi- 
broch. I'll  take  my  oath  he's  been 
got  at  by  some  one — he's  not  making  an 
effort.  If  Pibroch's  beat,  it  will  be  the 
iockev's  fault." 


Raebum  answered  this  with  a  mut- 
tered imprecation.  Was  chance  going 
to  throw  the  race,  and  all  it  meant  to 
the  girl  at  his  side,  into  the  thieving 
hands  of  Finkle  and  his  friends?  And 
the  horses  were  opposite  the  betting- 
ring  now;  ten  seconds  more  of  the  pock- 
et's hold  and  it  would  be  too  late.  Sud- 
denly the  black  faltered;  his  boy  cut 
once,  twice,  with  his  foohsh  whip,  and 
as  it  bit  into  Rocket's  flank,  the  horse, 
courage  gone,  shrank,  and  curled  to- 
ward the  thing  that  stung  him. 

"Pull  out,   Danny — knee  out  and  let  . 
me  up!"     Paddy's  voice  was  a  pleading 
wail    as    it    filtered    between    Pibroch's 
eagerly  pricked  ears. 

To  the  stable-lad  on  the  drunken 
black  Jockey  Boone  was  a  revered  idol, 
and  he  answered  the  command.  A 
slight  turn  of  the  wrist,  a  twist  in  the 
short-knotted  rein,  and  the  weary  Rocket 
leaned  in  his  stride  against  the  bay. 
Then  the  watchers  on  the  bench  saw 
the  wnde-nostriled  head  of  Pibroch  creep- 
ing up  the  narrow  lane;  then  the  wasp- 
hke  jacket  of  Paddy  Boone  fluttered 
beside  the  blue  and  crimson  of  Whistler 
and  Mascot.  Now  there  is  full  open- 
ing; and,  like  a  greyhound  shpped  from 
leash.  Pibroch  comes  through  with  a 
great  pounding,  thunderous  gallop,  and 
somebody  clutching  Raebiun's  arm  sways 
and  cuts  fooHshly  downward  in  a  sudden 
letting  loose  of  pent-up  blood. 

"Gad!  you  were  playing  for  foolish- 
ly big  stakes,"  Raebum  whispered,  as 
he  eased  the  girl  from  his  arm;  "but 
you've  won,  and  I'm  glad.  Remember, 
no  more  betting  after  to-day  for  Jack. 
It's  a  fool's  game." 


Fi^>-^ 


/^^ 


'^^?\;J;^4 


A  GROUP   OF   PAUsEE   MAIDEN; 


Characteristic  Types  of  Beauty 


B\  H.  S.  SCOTT  HARD  EX 


HE  characteristics  of  a  people 
are  often  best  judged  when 
you  watch  how  they  eat,  how 
they  do  their  work,  and 
how  they  pray.  Perhaps  no 
people  in  the  world  are  so  contented  with 
their  lot  as  the  Parsees.  It  was  some  time 
in  the  seventh  century  that  their  descend- 
ants were  driven  out  of  Persia  by  the 
pread  of  the  ^Mohammedan  religion,  and 
they  settled  in  India.  Ever  since,  this 
race  has,  like  the  Jews,  clung  together  with 

6—273 


that  Free  ^Masonry  that  has  brought  them 
success  wherever  they  have  gone.  To- 
day we  find  amongst  them  throughout  the 
Indian  Em|jire  some  of  the  v.ealthiest 
merchants  and  many  of  the  leading  lawyers 
and  doctors.  In  their  good  works  they 
are  most  charitable,  most  liberal  and 
most  devoted.  One  has  only  to  look  at 
their  magnificent  homes  on  ]Malabur 
Hill  in  Bombay,  to  see  their  temples  of 
prayer  and  their  charitable  institutions, 
to  studv  the  lives  of  the  Parsees.     The 


274 


THE    CANADIAN    >L\GAZINE 


Parsee  women  are,  as  a  race,  extremely 
handsome.  One  cannot  call  them  beauti 
fill,  hut  their  picturesque  shavv'ls,  which 
are  often  of  the  most  delicate  colours, 
show  off  the  jet-black  hair  and  fine  fea- 
tures as  they  drive  in  their  open  carriages 
along  the  promenade  by  the  sea.  Unlike 
the  Indian  women  they  attend  European 
balls  and  garden  parties,  and  are  often  to 
be  seen  dining  at  the  fashionable  hotels, 
escorted  by  their  husbands  and  men 
friends,  who  wear  the  curious,  shiny-black, 
Beretta-shaped  cardboard  hat,  and  who 
do  not  uncover  the  head  even  in  the  pres- 
ence of  royalty.  The  Parsees  neither 
bury  their  dead  nor  burn  them,  but  the 
naked  bodies  are  laid  out  on  a  grating  in- 
side a  round  tower  of  silence,  exposing 
them  to  the  sun  and  the  birds  of  prey. 
As  the  funeral  yjrocession  passes  through 
the  grounds  one  sees  the  vultures  assemb- 
ling on  the  walls,  and  in  half  an  hour  or 
so  after  the  body  has  been  deposited 
nothing  is  left  but  the  bones,  and  these 
fall  through  the  gratings  and  are  washed 
away  to  sea.  The  sun  dries  up  anything 
that  remains.     The  accompanying  picture 


shows  a  group  of  sisters — a  xery  wealthy 
family  in  Bomljay.  Two  of  the  girls 
married  Englishmen. 

It  \\as  my  good  fortune  not  long  ago  to 
stay  for  a  time  with  a  tea  planter  in 
Ceylon.  In  the  early  morning  when  the 
mist  was  still  hanging  over  the  valleys 
we  watched  the  coolies  v.ith  their  Itaskets 
on  their  l^acks  wending  their  way  to  the 
fields.  The  dav's  work  had  begun.  A> 
the  pluckers  filed  ])ast  our  bungalow  I 
saw,  half  hidden  behind  the  coloured 
shav.ls,  faces  of  girls  from  Southern  India, 
some  with  beautiful  features  and  many  of 
them  pretty.  These  women  are  hired  by 
agents  and  come  over  in  large  parties  to 
the  island,  and  are  employed  to  pick 
the  leaves  and  trim  the  tea  bushes.  They 
work  in  the  fields  until  six,  spreading  out 
like  a  line  of  soldiers  A\hen  skirmishing 
through  the  bush,  halting  now  and  then  to 
empty  the  baskets,  which  are  weighed. 
Payment  is  made  according  to  the  amount 
picked,  and  some  girls  become  so  quick 
at  plucking  the  leaves  that  at  the  end  of  the 
week  there  is  quite  a  nice  little  sum  to 
their  accounts. 


CHIXESE   LADIES  GOING   SHOPPIX' 


(  HA1{A(   1  r.UISTIC    TYPES    OF    BEAUTY 


275 


These  women  never  mi\'  with  the 
natives  of  the  island,  hut  hve  in  linc> 
of  sun-dried  Ijrick  houses  surroui^ded 
hv  a  compound  fence. 

fTere,  when  the  work  is  f)ver,  thc\ 
wash  and  feed,  sitting  on  their  nnu! 
floors,  often  with  their  children  hy 
heir  sides,  eating  rice  and  wheatcii 
cakes.  On  Sundays  they  adorn  them- 
selves with  their  Dicturesfjue  costumes, 
each  one  outvying  the  other  in  some 
coloured  drapery  which  hangs  grace- 
fully over  the  shoulders  across  the 
well-formed  figures.  Their  arms  and 
ankles  are  covered  with  silver  and 
brass  bangles  and  the  fingers  with 
rings  studded  with  stones. 

In  China  the  roads  are  rough  and 
narrow,  and  very  few  carriages  are  used, 
so  the  Chinese  ladies  go  out  shop- 
ping in  wheelbarrows.  In  the  country 
there  they  are  A\heeled  in  for  miles, 
and  the  barrow  men,  as  they  are  called, 
wheel  their  loads  over  the  ruts  and 
stones  without  upsetting.  The  ladies 
seem  to  enjoy  the  ride.  In  summer  they 
wear  dainty  white  costumes.  Their  feet 
when  children  are  bound  up  with  white 
cloth  bandages — so  tightly  that  as  time 
goe<  on  the  toes  almost  disappear,  ^^'alk- 


«^ 


A   MAORI   WOMAN 


A  PRETTY    TEA-GATHERER 

ing  on  the  toes  strengthens  the  hips,  and 
it  is  a  sign  of  beauty  with  a  woman 
to  have  a  strong,  well-developed  figure. 
The  hair  is  most  carefully  arranged 
and  caught  up  at  the  back  with  a 
net,  through  which  long  pins  are 
pierced  to  keep  it  in  order.  Chinese 
women  are  often  quite  A\hite  and  have 
pretty  little  faces.  They  are  always 
spotlessly  clean --although  not  so 
courtly  and  well  educated  as  the 
Japanese,  yet  they  are  in  society  al- 
ways polite,  and  they  manipulate  their 
chop-sticks  in  a  most  dehcate  manner. 
It  is  predicted  in  New  Zealand  that 
the  stalwart  ^laori  race  will  soon 
be  extinct.  According  to  the  latest 
census  there  are  less  than  fifty  thou- 
sand of  them  in  all.  Of  what  might 
be  called  the  native  races  of  New 
Zealand,  they  are  easily  the  brightest 
and  most  respected,  and  unlike  most 
peoples  similarly  situated  they  are 
extremely  generous,  hospitable,  fair- 
minded  and  daring  to  the  degree  of 
recklessness.  The  accompanying  pho- 
tograph .shows  a  good  t\-pe  of  Maori 
womanhood. 


Monument  lo  the  LaU  Ai 


"LOOK  UPOX  THIS  PICTURE 


'Hzi'-h-i 


A  COMPARISON   IN  ART 


Sometimes  it  is  said  in  a  public  way  that  there  is  no  native  art  in  Canada.  That 
seems  to  be  at  least  not  exactly  correct.  On  Dominion  Square,  Montreal,  stand  two 
monuments  within  speaking  distance  of  each  other.  One  of  them  is  the  work  of 
a  Canadian  sculptor,  Hebert.  It  was  erected  to  keep  fresh  in  the  minds  of  the  faithful  the 
work  that  -\rchbishop  Bourget  had  done  for  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  in  that  great 


^follllJ)lcnl  to  the  Late  Sir  John  A.  Miicdcitjld 


"AXD  UrOX  THIvS" 


-Homtel 


diocese.  The  nther  is  the  work  of  an  old-country  sculptor,  and  was  erected  by  the  Sir 
John  A.  ]\Iacdonald  Club,  of  Montreal,  to  the  memory  of  "Canada's  Grand  Old  Man." 
But  what  a  difference  there  is  between  these  two  works  of  art!  It  should  rather 
be  said,  what  a  difference  between  the  one  work  of  art  and  ilie  other  monument! 
After  looking  at  the  photographs,  would  any  person  care  to  say  that  Canadians  must 
always  go  abroad  to  obtain  real  art?     The  answer  is  obvious. 

Randolph  Carlyh 


Recollections  of  Joseph  Howe 


and   His   Family 


Bv  EMILY  P.  WEAVER 


RS.    CATHCART    THO^I- 

SOX,  the  only  surviving 
(laughter  of  the  great  Xova 
^cotian  Reformer,  having 
read  an  article  in  The  Caxa- 
DLVX  ^Magazine  of  April,  1905,  on  "The 
Haunts  and  Homes  of  Joseph  Howe,''  has 
kindly  placed  at  my  disposal  several  in- 
teresting photographs  and  some  not  less 
interesting  notes  on  her  father  and  his 
family.  These  are  partly  from  memory, 
[)artly  from  memoranda  made  by  her 
mother  on  family  affairs.  From  this 
latter  source  comes  some  at  least  of  the 
information  concerning  John  Howe, 
Joseph's  father,  a  fine  old  Loyalist,  of 
whom  his  son  ever  spoke  with  love  and 
veneration. 

John  Howe  believed  that  he  could  count 
amongst  his  ancestors  his  namesake,  the 
Puritan  chaplain  of  Oliver  Cromwell,  but 
was  unable  to  prove  this.   He  was  descend- 


JOHX  HOWE,  F.\THER  OF  JOSEPH 
From  an  Old  Paiiilhio 

278 


ed  from  one  of  two  brothers  who  left 
England  at  the  Restoration,  and  was  the 
only  representative  "of  the  Howes  who 
took  the  British  side  in  the  Revolutionary 
\\'ar.'"  At  that  time  he  was  editor  and 
printer  of  a  Boston  newspaper,  and  was 
also  King's  Printer  of  the  Royal  Gazette. 
Retiring  to  Halifax  in  1776,  he  was  made 
King's  Printer  and  Postmaster  of  Nova 
Scotia,  with  the  right  of  appointing  sub- 
ordinate officers  for  different  parts  of  that 
(then)  huge  province,  and  for  Prince 
Edward  Island.  He  received  also,  like 
other  Loyalists,  a  grant  of  land  on  the 
Northwest  Arm,  "where  he  put  up  a  kind 
of  bimgalow  and  got  over  such  furniture 
as  he  could  from  Boston.'' 

He  married  twice.  His  first  wife's 
children  were  John,  who  succeeded'  him 
as  King's  Printer  and  Postmaster;  William, 
who  became  Commissary-General;  David, 
who  died  comparatively  yovmg,  and  a 
daughter,  Mrs.  Austen,  who  was  for  m^any 
}ears  head  of  a  Ladies'  School  in  St.  John, 
N.B.  The  second  wife's  children  were  a 
daughter,  who  married  and  died  young, 
and  Joseph  Howe. 

His  case  hardly  bears  out  the  popular 
idea  that  great  men  owe  most  of  their  fine 
qualities  to  their  mothers,  for  the  second 
Mrs.  Howe  does  not  appear  to  have  been 
a  woman  of  very  marked  personality. 
Her  grand-daughter  says:  "Very  little  is 
remembered  of  Joseph  Howe's  mother, 
except  that  she  was  a  notable  New  Eng- 
land woman,  looking  well  to  the  ways  of 
her  household."  She  adds  that  her  son 
had  "the  greatest  respect  for  her  memory, 
but  more  sympathy  with  his  father,  whose 
sermons  and  other  writings  he  hoped  to 
have  leisure  to  edit  and  publish" — a 
leisure  that  never  came. 

John  Howe  was  for  many  years  leader 
of  the  sect  of  Sandemanians,  kno\\'n  in 
Scotland  as  Glassites,  and  said  to  believe 
in  community  of  goods,  abstinence  from 
blood  and  from  things  strangled,  love- 
feasts,'' and  a  weekly  celebration   of  the 


I 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    JOSEPH    HOWE 


'279 


Communion.  His  son,  Jusejjh.  did  nol 
become  a  member  of  this  seel,  but  "was  a 
Churchman,  not  hking  dogma.  He  was 
brought  uj),  as  he  always  said,  'on  the 
Bible  and  Shakesj)eare.'  but  in  the  ethics 
of  the  New  Testament  and  the  patriotism 
and  trust  in  God  of  the  Old  he  was  a]wa\  -- 
a  believer." 

The  elder  Howe  was  "a  most  benevo- 
lent and  good  man."  He  took  a  great 
interest  in  the  Maroons,  a  body  of  negroes 
from  Jamaica  who,  after  long  defiance 
of  the  British  authorities,  were  concjuered 
and  transported  to  Xova  Scotia  in  179^) 
They  were  settled  at  Preston,  a  \illagc 
fourteen  miles  from  Halifax  on  the  o]) 
posite  side  of  the  harbour.  Mr.  Howe 
went  out  often  "to  preach  to,  teach  and 
sympathise  with  them."  In  1800  the 
Maroons  were  sent  to  Sierra  Leone,  but 
a  few  years  later,  when,  during  the  war  of 
1812,  a  number  of  southern  negroes  sought 
refuge  with  the  British  troops,  Preston 
again  became  a  coloured  settlement;  and 
seemingly  ^Ir.  Howe  once  more  took  u]j 
his  w^ork  of  charity  amongst  the  ignorant 
and  poverty-stricken  blacks.  Evidently 
he  was  not  one  of  those  content  to  say  to 
the  destitute:  "Depart  in  peace,  be  ye 
warmed  and  tilled,"  for  his  wife  consider- 
ed it  necessary  to  protect  him  against  his 
own  charitable  impulses,  and  on  these 
expeditions  to  Preston  took  care  that  he 
had  only  money  enough  for  his  expenses, 
and  even  that  she  put  into  the  hands  of 
Jerry,  his  young  Irish  servant.  "The 
master's  way  of  giving"  w^as  "trying  in  a 
family  where  money  was  none  too  plenti- 
ful." He  was  on  one  of  these  benevolent 
excursions  on 
the  [last  day  of 
his  life,  and  it 
was  Jerry  who 
found  him  dead 
one  S  u  n  d  a  y 
morning  in  his 
lodging  at  Pres- 
ton. 

He \\as  a  man 
of  good  educa- 
tion and  of  liter- 
ary tastes,  and 
to  him  directly 
L.^sT  PHOTOGRAPH  OF  ^^s  voungest  son 
JOSEPH  HOWE  ow^ed    the    chief 


JOSEPH  HOWE  AT  45  YE.-VRS 
From  an  Oil  Painting 


He 


part  of  his  rather  desultory  education, 
could,  indeed,  make  nothing  of  him  as  :i 
classical  scholar,  but  the  lad,  "though 
healthy  and  athletic,"  took  kindly  to  books 
in  general.  His  sister,  a  few  years  older 
than  himself,  was  his  comi^-anion  and  assist- 
ant in  his  studies.  When  she  married  an 
English  gentleman  in  business  in  Monte- 
video, her  husband  promised  her  young 
brother  "a  place  in  his  office  and  his 
house."  With  this  hope  in  view.  Joseph 
was  learning  Spanish  W'hcn  the  dreadful 
news  of  his  sister's  sudden  death  changed 
his  plan  of  life. 

As  "the  family  had  no  interest  in  or 
perhaps  aptitude  for  mercantile  pursuits, 
nothing  seems  to  have  occurred"  to 
Joseph  but  "to  enter  his  brother  John's 
estabhshment,  where  he  acquired  the 
manual  dexterity  which  enabled  him  to 
boast,  years  after,  that  'he  could  set  types 
with  the  best  of  them.'"  Meanwhile  he 
^^Tote  for  "literary  papers,  both  in  prose 
and  verse,  and  studied  men  and  manners 
in  the  society  he  met  in  his  brother's  house, 
only  going  to  the  'Arm'  from  Saturday  till 
^Monday."  He  made  himself  so  usefxil 
that  his  brother  "was  reluctant  to  part 


£80 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


with  him,  when  at  the  age  of  twenty-one 
he  decided  to  strike  out  for  himself." 
He  bought  the  Nova  Scotian  newspaper 
from  the  brothers,  WiUiam  and  George 
Young,  who  afterwards  became  respect- 
ively Chief  Justice  and  Solicitor-General 
of  No\a  Scotia, 

"The  paper  did  not  suffer"  in  the 
hands  of  its  young  editor.  "He  (Joseph) 
had  always  a  great  power  of  attracting  to 
himself  able  and  enthusiastic  young  men," 
and  at  twenty-three  "he  felt  emboldened 
to  propose  himself  as  a  husband  to  the 
daughter  of  Captain  John  Macnab,  a 
retired  officer  of  the  Xo^"a  Scotia  Fencibles, 
Uvin>:  on  his  father's  estate,  Macnab's 
Island." 

Miss  Susan  Ann  Macnab  was  bom  in 
the  officers'  quarters  at  St.  John's,  New- 
foundland, and  "one  of  her  first  remem- 
brances was  hearing  the  reveille.^'  After 
the  Peninsular  \A'ar,  Captain  Macnab  was 
retired  with  his  rank  and  pay,  and  went 
to  live  at  ^lacnab's  Island,  where  his 
father  gave  him  a  house  and  garden. 
His  daughter,  then  ten  or  twelve  years  old, 
was  educated  by  her  mother,  and  a  gover- 
ness, brought  out  from  Scotland  by  her 
uncle,  Hon.  Peter  ^lacnab,  to  educate 
his  o\^■n  daughter.  "These  young  ladies 
spent  some  time  each  winter  with  relations 
in  Halifax  to  enjoy  some  of  the  gaieties, 
and  it  was  on  these  occasions  Miss 
^Macnab  met  her  future  husband." 

Her  father's  "horror  and  indignation" 
at  Joseph's  proposal  "were  extreme,  but 
the  young  people  knew  their  own  minds; 
^Ir.  Howe  persisted  in  making  frequent 
visits  to  the  island;  ]Mrs.  ^lacnab  became 
his  friend;  and  in  Februar}-,  1828,  Cap- 
tain Macnab  brought  his  wife  and 
daughter  to  Halifax  for  fear  of  bad  weath- 
er," and  the  yoimg  people  were  quietly 
married  at  the  house  of  a  cousin  of  the 
Captain's  by  Archdeacon  ^^'ilHs,  of  St. 
Paul's  Church.  Neither  bride  nor  bride- 
groom belonged  to  the  Church  of  England, 
but  at  that  date  the  ministers  of  other 
Protestant  chiu^ches  were  not  allowed  to 
perform  the  wedding  ceremony. 

Their  first  home  was  in  Bedford  Row, 
where  they  lived  two  years,  during  which 
they  "lost  their  first  child,  and  !Mrs. 
Howe  her  good  health."  Joseph  Howe 
then    bought    two    houses    opposite    the 


Province  Building,  and  turned  them  into  a 
comfortable  dwelling  and  printing  office. 
"From  the  publishing  office  were  sent  out 
many  notable  books,  and  in  time,  it,  with 
the  paper,  would  have  been  mone\--mak- 
ing,"  though  in  connection  with  it  was  a 
stationer's  shop,  which  "was  not  a  success. 
The  manager  did  not  manage,  and  it 
was  eventually  closed  at  a  loss." 

During  these  years,  Howe  made  many 
friends  for  himself  and  his  paper  in  his 
o\Mi  province  and  in  Prince  Edward 
Island,  and  "his  wife  always  looked  back 
with  regret  to  that  time  of  peace  and 
plenty;  and  wished  often  that  he  had 
waited,"  before  entering  on  his  political 
career,  "till  he  was  more  independent 
in  means  and  till  every  liabihty  had  been 
cleared  off." 

But  the  great  libel  trial  hurried  him 
into  the  political  arena,  and  when  he  be- 
came Speaker  of  the  House  and  Indian 
Commissioner,  he  removed  to  Poplar 
Grove,  "a  very  handsome  house  with 
garden  and  ice  house,"  in  what  was  then 
an  aristocratic  quarter  of  the  to\\Ti. 
Howe's  next  neighbour  was  Hon.  Michael 
Tobin,  the  President  of  the  Legislative 
Coimcil,  and  the  officers'  quarters  were 
near  by.  Opposite  the  house  was  a  large 
open  field,  with  a  few  trees  which  had 
given  the  place  its  name,  and  from  its 
\nndows  "there  was  a  lovely  view  of  the 
harbour  and  Dartmouth." 

When  Howe  retired  from  the  Govern- 
ment, retrenchment  became  necessary, 
and  after  a  brief  sojourn  in  a  smaller  house 
in  towU;  he  removed  to  Musquodoboit,  "to 
a  lovely  place  o\Mied  by  Mr.  Annand  and 
his  brother.  The  house  was  large,  on  a 
hill  sloping  do^^'n  to  the  river.  .  .  The 
farm  was  worked  by  others,  but  Mr. 
Howe's  time  was  fully  occupied."  He 
was  absent  three  months  each  winter  to 
attend  "the  House/'  but  when  at  home 
was  constantly  writing  for  the  papers,  or 
using  rod  or  gun,  and  it  was  "one  of  the 
disappointments  of  his  Ufe"  that  he  never 
succeeded  in  shooting  a  moose. 

"Mr.  Howe  was  passionately  fond 
of  ballad-singing — the  ballads  of  all 
countries — and  would  often  interrupt  the 
performer  by  joining  in  to  show  where 
expression  should  be  given." 

Like  his  father,  Howe  was  a  man  of 


RECOLLECTIONS   OF    JOSEPH    HOWE 


281 


simple  habits.  He  ate  "a  lar^c  breakfast 
at  eight  o'clock,"  then  "nothing  more  till 
6.30,  except  apples  or  other  fruit  at  one." 
He  was  "a  great  water  drinker,"  taking 
nothing  but  that  till  after  dinner,  when 
"he  had  a  few  glasses  of  port  in  his  own 
room,  and  a  cigar  (very  large),  afterwards 
coming  into  the  drawing-room  for  tea  at 
eight  o'clock,  followed  by  a  rubber." 
Mrs.  Howe  was  "a  splendid  whist-player," 
and  thus  she  and  her  husband  usually  won. 
When,  after  the  great  Liberal  \ictory 
in  1847,  Howe  became  Premier,  he  re- 
turned to  town,  and  after  a  few  months  in 
a  small  house  on  Morris  Street,  took  one 
with  a  good  garden  on  a  new  road  facing 
the  common,  not  too  near  to  neighbours. 

The  question  of  education  appears  to 
have  been  a  difficult  one  in  the  days  when 
Howe's  children  were  growing  up.  Mrs. 
Thomson  mentions  that  at  one  time,  the 
editor  of  The  Pearl,  who  kept  a  school  for 
boys,  gave  instruction  to  herself  and  her 
sister,  "perhaps  to  oblige  my  father,  whose 
ideas  of  a  liV)eral  education  for  girls  were 
quite  in  advance  of  that  age."  Now, 
soon  after  the  family  returned  to  Halifax, 
the  ladies  of  "  The  Sacred  Heart  Convent " 
opened  a  school  for  girls,  under  Madame 
Peacock,  the  Lady  Superior,  "a  dehght- 
ful  and  clever  woman,"  and  Howe  entered 
his  daughters  on  the  list  of  pupils.  But 
their  attendance  was  not  for  long,  for  the 
eldest  married  in  185 1,  and  the  .second, 
"a  beautiful  and  sweet  girl,  engaged  to  a 
young  naval  officer,''  died  in  the  following 
year,  "to  the  lifelong  regret  of  those  that 
loved  her." 

Li  1854  Howe  returned  to  his  own  house 
opposite  the  Province  Building,  to  be 
near  his  work,  the  office  of  first  Commis- 
sioner of  Railways  having  been  accepted 
by  him.  This  office  "was  intended  to  be 
permanent,"  and  Howe,  thinking  "he  had 
seen  his  life's  public  aims  accomplished," 
"hoped  thus  to  have  a  certain  income 
assured,  which  would  enable  him  to  make 
a  provision  for  his  family  and  old  age." 

But  this  was  not  to  be.     In  a  very  short 

space  of  time,  he  again  took  on  himself  the 

I    leadership  of  his  party,  and,  having  offend- 

I    ed  the  Roman  Catholics,  generally  hither- 

1   to   numbered    with   his   supporters,    was 

defeated  at  the  next  general  election. 


He  \\a.>  ncnv  appointed  by  the  British 
Government  F'ishery  Commissioner  for 
Newfoundland,  and  removed  to  a  pleasant 
cottage  near  Dartmouth.  There,  after 
his  return  from  Newfoiindland,  "he  gave 
the  first  of  tho.se  afternoon  parties,  after- 
wards so  fashionable,"  attended  bv 
"people  of  all  ranks  and  classes,  headed 
by  Admiral  Sir  J.  Hope,  who  kindly 
sent  blue-jackets  to  assist  with  outdoor 
games." 

It  was  at  this  time  that  "the  Tories 
were  attempting  to  pass  Confederation, 
but,  against  Re.sponsible  Government, 
without  an  appeal  to  the  people.  Mr. 
Howe  had  written  and  spoken  in  favour 
of  Confederation  always,  also  of  some 
closer  political  union  with  the  Mother 
Country,  but  the  country  was  not  ripe 
for  it."  Its  advocates  "  were  afraid  to  put 
it  to  vote  by  an  election,  which  Mr.  Howe 
and  his  friends  demanded."  At  length 
Howe  and  a  colleague  were  sent  to  repre- 
sent their  case  to  the  British  government. 
"In  vain.  He  was  told  that  it  must  be 
carried,  and  was  begged  to  use  his  in- 
fluence to  keep  the  peace.  .  .  .  He  came 
home  to  repeat  this,  but  men's  minds  had 
been  inflamed.  .\  public  meeting  was 
called.  One  gentleman  declared  that 
'the  United  States  would  help  us,'  another 
that  'it  was  time  the  English  flag  was 
hauled  down  from  the  Government  House!' 
Mr.  Howe  decided  to  take  his  own  course. 
He  accepted  Confederation  with  'better 
terms'  for  his  own  province,  entered  the 
Government  at  Ottawa.  .  .  .  and  loyallv 
helped  to  make  it  a  success.  Time  has 
shown  the  wisdom  of  his  decision." 

"All  these  an.xieties  and  e.xertions  had 
affected  his  health.  His  disease  (enlarge- 
ment of  the  heart)  had  begun  to  declare 
itself,"  and,  at  69,  "he  felt  rest  and  free- 
dom from  responsibility  essential."  He 
accepted  the  Lieutenant-Governorship  of 
Nova  Scotia,  and  "left  Ottawa,  to  die 
amongst  those  he  loved  best.  The  end 
soon  came.  He  passed  away  after  great 
sufi'ering  on  the  night  of  June  ist,  alone 
with  his  devoted  wife  and  youngest  son. 
The  others  were  not  sent  for,"  as  it  was 
not  realised  "till  too  late  that  his  attack 
was  more  serious  than  the  pain  he  often 
endured  without  a  murmur." 


Canthooks  and  Hearts 


Bv  BR.iDFORD  K.  DANIELS 


ARRY  CONKLIX  sat  on  a 
deal  bench  and  watched  with 
outward  calm  the  flushed, 
triumphant  face  of  Lou  Le 
MJ  Grande  as  she  was  whirled 
away  into  the  midst  of  the  dancers  on  the 
arm  of  Jean  Boutellier,  the  swarthy,  red- 
shirted  giant  who  had  so  suddenly  ap- 
peared on  the  scene  as  his  rival.  As  the 
couple  reached  the  middle  of  the  room, 
Lou  tossed  him  a  saucy,  defiant  look  over 
her  shoulder,  which  made  some  of  the 
river-drivers  who  noticed  it  laugh  up- 
roariously. ConkUn  joined  good  natiu-ed- 
ly  in  the  laugh  at  his  expense,  and  then 
leaned  back  against  the  wall  and  watched 
the  merry  crowd,  which  filled  the  shanty 
to  overflo-nnng.  To-morrow  the  rival 
gangs  would  start  to  bring  down  the  fall 
drives  to  Martin's  mill,  and  they  were 
celebrating  the  occasion  by  a  grand 
"shakedown." 

For  a  time  Conklin  got  glimpses  of  the 
fluffy  brown  head  which  graced  the  most 
marvellous  throat  and  bust  that  his  eyes 
had  ever  rested  on,  and  then  as  he  saw 
that  Lou  did  not  purpo.se  to  return  his 
way,  he  fell  to  reviewing  the  strange  cir- 
cumstances of  their  friendship.  Out  on  a 
moose  himt  in  the  Quebec  woods,  he  had 
climbed  up  a  spruce  trunk  which  the 
wind  had  toppled  over,  and.  rifle  in  hand, 
watched  for  the  big  bull  moose  that  was 
heading  down  the  valley.  Although  thirty 
feet  above  the  ground,  he  was  not  high 
enough  to  see  far  through  the  thicket  of 
winter  beech  about  him,  to  which  the  dn.- 
leaves  still  clung. 

Suddenly  the  leaves  rustled  not  twenty 
yards  ahead  of  him,  and  in  an  instant  his 
rifle  covered  the  spot.  Then  something 
browTi  slipped  past  an  opening  in  the 
branches,  and  his  muscles  were  just 
stiffening  for  the  recoil  when  the  same 
tempting  face  with  its  mass  of  gold-bro^ATi 
hair,  which  he  saw  now  dimly  through  a 
halo  of  tobacco  smoke,  appeared  directly 
in  line  with  the  sights  of  his  rifle,  and  with 
an  involuntan-  cr}'  he  jerked  up  the  muzzle 
282 


a  fraction  of  an  inch  as  his  finger  pressed 
the  trigger.  In  his  new  position  he  over- 
balanced and  toppled  off  the  tree  trunk. 
As  he  fell  he  heard  a  woman  shriek,  and 
then  all  was  a  blank  till  he  opened  his  eyes 
in  the  little  room  back  of  where  he  now  sat. 
He  remembered  yet  the  thrill  of  joy  which 
came  to  him  when  he  saw  the  same  face 
bending  over  him  which  had  filled  the 
last  moment  of  his  consciousness. 

There  was  a  premonitory-  scraping  of 
fiddles,  a  red-faced  girl  in  a  yellow  waist 
and  with  stray  locks  of  hair  hanging  down 
the  back  of  her  neck  in  damp  strings, 
stepped  before  him  on  the  arm  of  a  burly 
river-driver,  and  the  dancing  was  resimied. 
Conklin  watched  the  yellow  waist  absently 
for  a  moment,  and  then  resumed  his 
reverie.  Old  Joe  Le  Grande,  Lou's 
father  and  the  boss  of  the  mill,  in  the 
absence  of  a  surgeon,  had  set  his  broken 
arm  and  patched  up  the  ugly  gash  in  the 
back  of  his  head;  and  then  Lou — willftil, 
perverse,  passionate  Lou — had  nursed 
him  back  to  health  and  strength. 

Then  had  come  the  delightful  days 
when  -^he  had  sat  by  the  window  and 
sewed,  and  he  had  lain  and  admired  the 
profile  of  the  faultless  face  against  the 
whitewashed  wall,  while  he  told  her  about 
his  college  life,  and  she  had  listened  with 
an  eagerness  that  made  him  want  more 
and  more  to  take  her  away  from  her 
present  sordid  surroundings  and  give  her 
the  chance  in  the  world  which  she  so 
richly  deserved.  In  his  growing  infatua- 
tion for  her  he  had  put  off  %\Titing  to  the 
captain  of  his  college  football  team,  who 
doubtless  was  impatiently  awaiting  his 
return,  until  finally  he  had  become  asham- 
ed to  write.  Luckily  his  parents  were  in 
Europe. 

The  race  between  the  two  gangs  of 
river-drivers  to  see  who  would  shoot  the 
first  log  into  IMartin's  miU-pond  had  begtin 
by  a  mere  chance,  but  interest  in  it  had 
steadily  grown,  until  now  it  was  a  contest 
beside  which  a  race  between  two  'Varsity 
boat  crews  dwindled  into  insignificance. 


CANTHOOKS   AND   HEARTS 


283 


"Devil"  Jean  Boulellier  and  his  gang  of 
red-shirtcd  giants  worked  on  Wildcat 
River,  bringing  in  the  logs  from  Salmon 
Lake;  Dave  Maxon's  men  wore  blue 
shirts  and  operated  on  West  Branch. 
Boutellier's  men  had  the  reputation  of 
being  the  hardest  set  that  had  ever  spun  a 
log.  Boutellier  himself,  whose  very  look 
struck  terror  into  the  ordinary  man,  had 
been  in  charge  of  the  Wildcat  River  outfit 
for  six  years,  and  the  stories  of  his  heart- 
less discipline  were  told  with  bated  breath, 
even  among  hardened  river-men.  Before 
joining  Boutellier's  gang  a  candidate  was 
put  through  a  series  of  tests  in  river  driving 
which  for  coolness  of  head,  quickness  of 
decision,  strength  and  agility,  would  have 
made  the  accomplishments  of  the  average 
football  man  seem  those  of  a  mere  child. 

But  the  supreme  test,  while  kept  a 
secret  by  an  oath  which  no  man  had  ever 
dared  to  break,  was  known  to  be  one  of  the 
most  heartbreaking  and  brutal  things  to 
which  any  human  being  was  ever  subject- 
ed. It  always  took  place  at  night  at  some 
secret  rendezvous  far  up  Wildcat  River 
to  which  the  candidate  was  taken  blind- 
folded, and  many  a  superb  specimen  of 
manhood  who  had  come  through  all  the 
other  tests  triumphant  had  been  sent  down 
the  river  after  this,  a  poor,  broken-hearted 
wretch  who  invariably  slunk  away  from 
the  settlement  in  disgrace. 

Conklin  rose  and  slipped  out  into  the 
keen  frosty  air,  for  it  was  November.  He 
wanted  to  get  away  from  the  dancers  and 
the  fetid  air  of  the  shanty  to  some  quiet 
spot  where  he  could  think.  It  had  all  been 
so  novel,  so  extraordinary,  that  he  had 
never  really  asked  himself  the  blunt  ques- 
tion as  to  whether  or  not  he  loved  Lou  Le 
Grande.  But  the  sight  of  her  smiling  up 
into  that  swarthy  giant's  face  had  sudden- 
ly revealed  the  truth  to  him.  His  bache- 
lor's degree  next  spring?  His  place  on 
the  football  team?  \Yhsit  were  they  to 
Lou  Le  Grande! 

Conklin  paused  in  his  aimless  ramble 
under  a  naked  sugar-maple,  and  suddenlv 
remembered  that  on  that  very  spot  he  had 
done  the  only  unmanly  thing  toward  Lou 
that  he  could  remember.  Thev  had 
paused  here  in  one  of  their  strolls — he 
had  been   telling  her  about   commence- 


ment exercises — and  as  the  moonlight 
filtered  through  the  boughs  and  touched 
her  shining  eyes  and  parted  lips  he  had 
taken  her  in  his  arms  in  a  moment  of  mad 
impulse  and  kissed  her  in  a  way  that  had 
left  her  white  and  trembling.  She  had 
remained  quite  still  for  a  little  while,  and 
then,  suddenly  bursting  into  tears,  had 
freed  herself  and  run  away  to  the  house. 
The  next  day  she  had  met  him  in  the  old 
saucy,  imperious  way,  and  quite  ignored 
the  incident  of  the  night  before.  But 
they  had  never  taken  another  moonlight 
stroll  together. 

And  was  this  shaggy  black  bully  the 
explanation  of  it  all?  Well,  if  he  wished 
to  win  Lou  Le  Grande  he  must  put  up 
the  fight  of  his  life.  For  a  time  Conklin 
stood  lost  in  thought.  "I'll  do  it!  "  he 
said  at  length,  as  an  idea  suddenly  occur- 
red to  him.  With  a  new  light  in  his  clear 
gray  eyes  he  returned  to  the  shanty  and 
went  straight  to  Dave  Maxon,  who  along 
with  several  other  men  of  his  own  age 
was  seated  in  a  comer  discussing  the 
coming  contest. 

"  I've  decided  to  take  up  with  your  offer, 
Mr.  Maxon,"  said  Conkhn  quietly. 

"What!  go  up  as  a  hand  along  with  the 
boys?  Good  for  you,  young  man!"  ex- 
claimed the  squat,  massive  river-boss,  his 
beady  blue  eyes  almost  disappearing  in  a 
mass  of  wrinkles  as  he  rose  and  slapped 
Conklin  on  the  back  in  a  way  that  nearly 
knocked  him  off  his  feet.  "I  always 
wanted  you  from  the  first  time  I  saw  you 
on  a  log"  (Conkhn  had  been  practising 
for  the  sheer  sport  of  the  thing).  "And 
besides,  now's  your  chance  to  make  a 
showing  over*  there,"  he  added,  glancing 
in  the  direction  of  Lou  Le  Grande  with  a 
kindly  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

In  a  few  moments  the  room  was  buzzing 
with  the  news  that  Conkhn  was  going  to 
join  Maxon's  gang.  "He'll  fall  in  and 
wilt  his  collar,"  said  a  driver  with  a 
freckled  face  and  a  shock  of  bristhng  hair 
as  red  as  his  shirt.  At  this  deliberate 
insult  to  the  new  member  of  their  gang  a 
low  groW'l  ran  through  the  groups  of  jMax- 
on's  men  scattered  about  the  room,  and 
for  a  moment  it  looked  as  if  the  effrontery 
would  be  answered  for  with  blood.  Just 
as  the  strain  was  reaching  the  breaking 


^284 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


point  Lou  left  the  side  of  Jean  Boutellier, 
and  going  quickly  over  to  Conklin.  held 
out  her  hand. 

"I'm  so  glad  you  did  it!"  she  said  im- 
pulsively, giving  him  a  look  which  Conk- 
lin never  forgot.  "I  was  beginning  to 
think  you  were  a  coward."  Then  she 
tvimed  and  went  over  to  the  fiddlers, 
asking  them  to  play  the  "Fisher's  Horn- 
pipe." 

^len  who  a  moment  before  had  been 
glaring  into  each  other's  eyes,  coughed, 
scraped  their  feet  on  the  floor,  and  then 
looked  about  them  for  a  partner  to  the 
music  which  was  already  in  full  swing. 
In  a  flash  the  truth  came  home  to  Conklin. 
Lou  had  been  secretly  despising  him  for  a 
weakling  \\ith  not  sufficient  strength  to 
put  up  a  real  fight  for  her.  Raising  his 
eyes,  they  met  those  of  Jean  Boutellier 
fixed  upon  him  in  a  curious  sort  of  way. 
as  if  to  say: 

"Well,  you  may  possibly  demand  my 
personal  attention  after  all." 

With  unerring  intuition  Conklin  di- 
vined the  man's  thoughts,  and  squaring 
his  jaw  with  its  deeply  cleft  chin,  started 
across  the  room  toward  Loi^,  who  still 
stood  alone  watching  the  fiddlers.  Bou- 
tellier, reading  the  challenge  aright,  shoved 
aside  the  half-dozen  drivers  who  stood  in 
his  way,  and  the  two  men  reached  Lou's 
side  at  the  same  time. 

"May  I  have  the  pleasure  of  the  last 
dance,"  began  Conkhn.  With  an  angry 
snort  Boutellier  pushed  past  him  and 
ofifered  Lou  his  arm  in  a  way  which  was 
more  a  command  than  a  suing  for  her 
favour. 

The  fiddlers  paused,  thfeir  arm.s  still 
crooked  and  their  bows  hovering  above 
the  strings.  The  dancers  stopped  as  if 
by  a  preconcerted  signal,  and  every  pair 
of  eyes  in  the  room  was  fixed  upon  the  trio. 

Lou  looked  coolly  at  the  big  arm  thrust 
out  at  her,  and  then  said  with  an  air  of 
finality  which  could  not  be  mistaken: 
"I  don't  care  to  dance  any  more  to-night; 
but  I  promise  the  next  dance  to  the  man 
who  shoots  the  first  log  into  ^Tartin's 
mill-pond." 

''Bravo!'"  exclaimed  Dave  Maxon, 
and  at  the  signal  the  spectators  broke  into 
deafening  applause. 


II 

Barry  Conklin,  canthook  in  hand,  stood 
poised  beside  a  pile  of  logs  in  the  gray 
frosty  night  of  a  November  morning. 
All  down  the  banks  of  the  stream  among 
the  frost- whitened  bushes,  blue-shirted 
river-drivers  stood  in  the  same  eager 
posture  as  himself.  All  were  awaiting  the 
rifle-shot  from  Pine  Hill  on  the  crest  of 
the'  divide,  which  could  be  heard  at  the 
same  time  by  Boutellier's  men  at  Salmon 
Lake. 

Maxon,  cool,  massive,  masterful,  stood 
on  a  rock  in  the  centre  of  the  stream,  try- 
ing the  strength  of  apike-poleandoccasion- 
ally  glancing  along  the  line  of  blue-shirted 
figures.  In  the  tense  silence  a  jay  called 
raucously  from  the  top  of  a  white-birch, 
and  at  the  sound  the  men  started,  and  one 
man  dropped  his  canthook.  The  man 
next  to  him  ripped  out  a  scathing  oath, 
and  then  the  silence  flowed  back  like  a 
wave. 

"Crack!"  Before  the  rifle  report  had 
time  to  echo  from  the  surrounding  hills 
there  was  a  motion  among  the  blue  shirts 
as  if  a  hundred  steel  springs  had  been 
released  by  the  sound,  and  the  next 
moment  there  was  a  thunderous  splash  as 
pile  after  pile  of  logs  went  tuml)]ing  into 
the  river. 

Conklin  felt  the  blood  surge  to  his 
temples,  and  laughed  as  his  canthook  bit 
into  the  big  spruce  log  which  was  the  key 
to  the  pile  placed  in  his  charge.  It  was 
the  old  mad  exultation  which  he  had  e.\- 
perienced  in  his  first  football  game  against 
Toronto  L^niversity.  and  he  was  blind  and 
deaf  to  the  tumult  about  him  till  the  last 
log — a  spruce  with  a  sweep  in  it — went 
flopping  over  and  over  and  struck  the 
water  with  a  resounding  splash.  Conklin 
raised  his  head  for  the  first  time  since  the 
shot  had  reached  his  ears,  and  his  eyes 
met  the  inscrutable  gaze  of  ^ Faxon,  who 
uith  a  skill  that  seemed  little  short  of 
magic  was  turning  aside  the  logs  which 
seemed  bent  upon  clambering  upon  the 
ruck  on  which  he  stood.  Conklin  followed 
the  boss's  glance  do\^'n  the  line,  and 
noted  with  a  thrill  of  pride  that  he  had 
been  among  the  first  to  finish  his  pile. 

Now  that  the   nerve-racking  strain  of 


CANTHOOKS   AND    HEARTS 


285 


suspense  was  over,  the  men  threw  them- 
selves into  the  work  with  volleys  of  oaths 
and  an  utter  scorn  of  fear  that  awed 
Conklin.  They  ran  along  twirling  logs 
\vith  death  awaiting  them  if  they  made  one 
false  step,  plunged  into  the  dark,  seething 
water  through  some  momentary  opening, 
and  starting  a  log,  bounded  out  again  just 
a  second  before  the  two  approaching 
masses  rushed  together  with  a  grinding 
crash  which  would  have  literally  cut  them 
in  two  had  they  been  delayed  a  moment. 

Fear!  Some  miracle  had  cast  out  fear. 
They  had  cjuite  forgotten  themselves,  and 
were  toiling  only  for  the  honour  of  the 
West  Branch  River  gang. 

"Hullo,  there,  Conklin  I  run  down  to 
the  edd}^  and  keep  the  logs  from  piling  up 
in  the  backwater,"  roared  Maxon,  as  he 
drove  his  pike-pole  into  the  snout  of  a 
sixty-foot  pine  with  a  vicious  thrust  which 
made  the  monster  pause  in  its  mad  rush 
and  tremble  from  end  to  end.  Conklin 
looked  in  the  direction  in  which  Maxon 
had  jerked  his  head,  and  saw  that  the 
eddy  was  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
thrashing  mass  of  demented  things  sup- 
posed to  be  logs  which  lay  between. 
Clutching  his  canthook  near  the  ring,  he 
drew  a  deep  breath  and  ran  out  upon  the 
drive.  Once,  in  springing  over  an  open 
space  which  suddenly  ya\^Tied  beneath  his 
feet,  he  looked  do\\Ti,  and  the  experiment 
nearly  cost  him  his  life.  The  logs  seemed 
to  spin  round  and  round  him,  and  the 
very  hills  began  to  rock.  Leaping  blindly 
forward,  he  landed  upon  the  end  of  a 
small  spruce,  which  at  the  sudden  im- 
pact sank  with  him  to  his  waist,  and  re- 
bounding like  a  cork,  would  have  tossed 
him  into  the  air,  had  not  the  inch-long 
calks  in  the  soles  of  his  stout  shoes  held 
him  nailed  to  the  surface.  Toppling  over 
among  the  writhing  monsters,  he  would 
have  been  crushed  before  he  could  have 
drovMied,  had  not  a  passing  driver  freed 
his  feet  with  two  lightning-like  thrusts 
of  a  canthook  and  dragged  him  out  to 
safety. 

"Always  light  on  one  foot,"  the  rescuer 
called  as  he  dashed  away. 

Standing  waist  deep  among  the  ice- 
ihcrusted  bushes  at  the  backwater,  Conk- 
lin could  see  the  half  mile  of  madly  racing 
logs  with  blue-shirted  drivers  darting  to 


and  fro  over  their  shifting  surface.  The 
curses,  the  shouts,  the  wild  tumult  of 
pounding  logs  and  roaring  water  seemed 
to  set  his  blood  on  fire,  and  he  understood 
for  the  first  time  how  it  was  that  in  battle 
men  lost  all  sense  of  fear.  Fear  I  Bah! 
Fear  was  only  a  creature  bom  of  idle 
fancy. 

It  was  nine  o'clock,  and  now  that  the 
logs  were  going  well  down  a  long  stretch 
of  water  with  plenty  of  sheer-dams  at  the 
bends  to  keep  them  from  jjiling  up  along 
the  shore,  the  men  gathered  about  a  cook- 
house which  suddenly  appeared  through 
the  hemlocks  round  the  .shoulder  of  a  hill, 
and  each  seized  a  mug  of  boiling-hot 
coffee  and  a  "junk"  of  bread  dripping 
with  molasses,  which  had  been  prepared 
for  them. 

"A  bully  start,  boss.  Five  minutes 
ahead  of  last  fall  in  passing  the  third 
beaver  dam,"  said  a  long,  loose-jointed 
individual  named  Sanderson,  with  water 
spurting  out  of  the  slits  in  the  toes  of  his 
shoes  at  every  step.  Maxon  grunted  and 
buried  his  face  in  his  coffee  mug.  Before 
Conklin  had  fairly  begun  to  eat  the  rest 
of  the  gang  had  finished. 

It  was  the  morning  of  the  third  day, 
and  the  terrible  strain  was  beginning  to 
tell.  Men  who  had  scarcely  stopped  to 
eat  or  sleep  since  the  signal  shot  from 
Pine  Hill,  moved  about  like  somnambu- 
lists, breaking  jams,  keeping  watch  at 
shoals,  and  rolling  back  stranded  logs  in  a 
dull,  mechanical  way  which  even  the 
biting  curses  of  Maxon,  as  he  moved  up 
and  down  the  river  like  some  terrible 
grizzly,  were  powerless  to  change.  The 
drive  had  reached  Cariboo  still-water, 
and  before  the  herculean  task  of  pike- 
poling  the  logs  for  a  solid  mile  through 
dead  water  the  men  shrank  as  from  a 
blow.  They  leaned  dejectedly  upon  their 
canthooks,  their  slouch  hats  drawn  low 
over  their  eyes.  They  were  bitter,  re- 
vengeful— toward  whom  or  what  they 
could  not  have  explained. 

"Do  it,  or  by  the  red  roaring  belli — " 
came  suddenly  over  the  crest  of  the  hill 
which  separated  them  from  Wildcat 
River  in  a  voice  which  resembled  the  roar 
of  a  mad  bull.  Boutellier's  men  were 
almost  abreast  of  them '  For  one  breath- 
less moment  Maxon  stood  on  the  butt  end 


286 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


of  a  big  spruce  that  had  climbed  out  upon 
the  shore  like  a  tired  dog  to  rest,  and 
surveyed  his  gang. 

"Men,  are  we  going  to  let  that  black- 
hearted bully  beat  us?"  he  demanded, 
sharply. 

"No!"  replied  Long  Sanderson,  tossing 
his  greasy  slouch  hat  into  the  air  with  a 
wild  whoop  that  brought  a  yell  of  defiance 
from  over  the  hill. 

The  yell  was  returned  with  a  ringing 
cheer,  and  then  the  tremendous  task  of 
pike-poling  the  logs  across  Cariboo  still- 
water  was  begun.  Unless  the  job  was 
completed  in  two  hours  defeat  was  in- 
evitable. As  ConkHn  looked  at  the  vast 
mass  which  seemed  to  lie  sullen  and 
exhausted  after  the  mad  journey  which 
had  just  been  accomphshed,  he  was 
seized  with  an  idea.  \\'Tiy  not  keep  the 
middle  of  the  channel  open  by  means  of 
the  same  wedge-shaped  formation  which 
they  sometimes  used  in  football  to  carry 
the  ball  down  the  field  ?  With  a  bound  he 
(tossed  the  logs  and  was  at  Maxon's  side 
explaining  his  plan.  The  grizzled  old 
river-driver  watched  the  eager,  boyish 
face  narrowly  for  a  time,  and  then  said: 

"Young  man.  I've  knocked  youngsters 
into  the  water  before  now  for  wanting  tg 
teach  me  my  business."  Conklin  began 
to  stammer  apologies.  "Wait!"  Maxon 
commanded,  placing  a  great,  wrinkled 
paw  on  Conklin's  shoulder.  /'^You  can 
try."  • 

\Mth  curses  that  in  some  inexplicable 
way  were  understood  by  all  to  be  com- 
pHments,  the  men  followed  Conklin's 
directions  and  lashed  the  tops  6i  three 
strongly  tapering  logs  together,  and  \vith 
a  few  blows  of  an  axe  brought  the  blunt 
snout  to  a  point.  A  score  of  men  drove 
their  pike-poles  into  the  contrivance  and 
forced  it  into  the  mass  of  logs  which  filled 
the  channel.  To  their  unbounded  delight 
it  worked  like  magic,  and  soon  a  stream 
of  logs,  three  abreast,  was  moving  stead- 
ily along  in  the  wake  of  the  "rooter." 
as  Long  Sanderson  named  Conklin's 
invention.  In  an  hour  and  fifteen  min- 
utes from  the  time  that  the  idea  had  oc- 
curred to  Conklin  the  last  log  leapt  over 
Blueslate  Bluff.  With  a  cheer  that  could 
be  heard  above  the  deafening  roar  of  the 
waterfall,    the    steaminsr    drivers    seized 


Conklin  and  tossed  him  three  times  almost 
to  the  tops  of  the  trees. 

Ill 

Above  the  "Witch's  Caldron"  was  a 
mile  of  the  most  exasperating  rapids  on 
the  whole  run.  Down  this  last  descent, 
like  hounds  on  the  home  stretch,  the  logs 
were  now  leaping  in  headlong  flight.  Their 
ends  were  all  broomed  and  splintered  from 
days  of  butting  into  unyielding  rocks;  the 
few  strips  of  bark  which  the  blazers  had 
overlooked  had  long  since  been  worn 
away,  and  each  log  was  now  as  smooth  as  a 
pohshed  pillar.  To  venture  upon  them 
\vithout  well-calked  shoes  meant  a  sud- 
den plimge  into  the  dark-brown  water, 
and  almost  certain  death. 

Conklin  stood  fascinated.  On  the 
logs  came.  They  jostled  and  hustled  each 
other  as  if  fighting  fiercely  for  first  place. 
Here  a  log  struck  its  fellow  a  glancing 
blow  and  shot  out  high  and  dr}-  upon  the 
shore,  only  to  be  hurled  back  again  into 
the  struggle  by  the  watchful  drivers; 
there  a  big  pine  that  had  discovered  an 
open  space  shot  forward  over  a  fall,  butted 
squarely  into  a  rock  at  the  bottom  with 
such  force  that  it  turned  a  complete 
somersault,  its  glistening  length  -towering 
threateningly  above  the  heads  of  the  drivers 
for  a  moment,  and  then  fa  Ring  with  a  dull 
crash  across  a  boulder,  broke  in  two  in  the 
middle. 

Before  the  wide  swirling  water  which 
rose  from  the  blow  had  subsided  another 
pine,  three  feet  through  at  the  butt,  came 
leaping  after,  landing  upon  a  sharp  ridge 
of  slate  which  rose  midstream,  and  was 
cleft  in  two  as  neatly  as  if  struck  by  some 
giant  axe.  At  the  narrow  places  men  with 
canthooks  and  pike-poles  fought  desper- 
ately to  keep  an  open  passage;  for  if  but 
one  log  swung  cross\\'ise  of  the  channel  it 
meant  the  whole  drive  would  be  wedged 
into  a  solid  mass  which  would  take  hours 
to  set  in  motion  again.  The  "Witch's 
Caldron"  was  now  in  sight,  and  aheady 
a  dozen  picked  men  with  pike-poles  poised 
stood  waiting  at  the  narrow  opening  above 
the  falls,  where  the  treacherous  water 
sUpped  over  the  precipice  in  a  long, 
yellow  band  as  smooth  as  oil.  Across 
the  glassy  space  above  the  falls  the  logs 
came  steadily  on,  quickening  their  pace 


CANTHOOKS    AND    HEARTS 


287 


as  they  neared  the  place  as  if  gathering 
speed  for  the  final  plunge. 

"Look  there!"  Conklin  turned  to  the 
man  beside  him  in  surprise,  and  following 
his  glance  saw  that  one  of  the  men  had 
missed  his  raim  at  a  big  spruce  coming 
sideways,  and  it  now  lay  right  across  the 
brink  of  the  chasm,  either  end  fast  upon 
the  rocks.  A  few  logs  shot  over  it,  two 
or  three  wiggled  under  it,  and  then  the 
main  body  began  to  pile  up  against  it  in 
a  wall  which  mounted  higher  every  mo- 
ment. For  one  heartbreaking  moment 
the  men  stood  and  looked  helplessly  at 
one  another,  and  then  Conklin  got  a 
glimpse  between  the  branches  of  Joe  Le 
Grande's  cook-house  and  a  flag  waving 
from  its  top. 

Lou  was  waiting  to  welcome  the  victor! 
Seizing  an  axe  he  started  to  run  out  upon 
the  jam  to  cut  the  key-log  in  two,  but 
before  he  had  gone  three  steps  Maxon's 
great  paw  fastened  upon  his  shoulder  and 
dragged  him  back. 

"You're  here  to  ride  the  first  log  down 
the  flume,  young  man,"  he  said  with  a 
twinkle  in  his  eyes.  Then  he  snatched 
the  axe  from  Conklin's  hand  and  started 
out  himself.  He  would  order  no  man 
into  such  a  death  trap  as  that.  At  the 
sight  of  their  boss  taking  such  a  risk  upon 
himself ,  which  properly  belonged  to  them, 
a  dozen  men  sprang  forward;  but  Long 
Sanderson,  with  one  great  leap,  reached 
the  middle  of  the  log  ahead  of  them  all. 
He  turned  his  back  to  the  wall  of  logs 
which  towered  over  him,  and  spreading 
wide  his  feet,  swung  the  glittering  axe  in  a 
lightning-like  sweep.  At  the  first  blow 
the  spruce  snapped  like  an  overstrung 
bow  and  shot  Sanderson  forward  clean 
over  the  cliff,  where  his  unfailing  luck 
placed  the  overhanging  branches  of  a 
yellow  birch  within  his  reach.  With  a 
prelim inar\'  growl  that  ended  in  a  roar 
the  mass  of  logs  leapt  after  him,  and 
the  men  poured  down  a  narrow  path 
to  a  point  below  where  they  were  likely 
to  jam  again. 

At  a  signal  from  Maxon  the  gate  to  the 
flume  was  opened,  and  a  spruce  log  forty 
I  feet  long  and  two  feet  in  diameter  was 
i  quickly  selected  for  Conklin's  ride.  Dur- 
I  ing  the  brief  pause  in  which  the  log  was 
i  being  poled  across  a  few  rods  of  still  water 


the  should  of  Boutellier's  men  aime  past 
the  end  of  the  ridge.  They  too  were 
making  ready  for  their  giant  leader  to 
shoot  the  flume  which  ran  almost  parallel 
to  the  one  down  which  Conklin  was  about 
to  venture. 

The  two  gangs  were  not  more  than  thirty 
rods  apart  now,  and  as  Conklin  watched 
with  a  sort  of  horrible  fascination  his  log 
approaching  he  heard  Boutellier  rip  out 
an  oath,  saw  him  spring  into  the  water 
and  seizing  a  log  in  his  arms  hurl  it  out 
upon  the  shore  with  as  much  apparent 
ease  as  if  it  had  been  a  stick.  He  evident- 
ly had  rejected  the  first  log  selected  for  his 
ride.  Conklin's  log  reached  the  flume, 
and  seizing  his  pike-pole  in  the  middle, 
he  sprang  squarely  upon  the  back  of  the 
monster  as  it  shot  past  him.  Behind  him 
he  heard  the  shout  of  Boutellier's  men, 
but  he  dare  not  even  glance  to  one  side  to 
see  the  position  of  his  rival.  As  Conklin 
sped  down  the  plank  channel  fully  fifty 
feet  above  the  bottom  of  the  rock-strewn 
ravine  which  the  structure  of  stout  trestle- 
work  followed,  a  sudden  terror  seized  him, 
and  with  it  came  an  almost  uncontrollable 
desire  to  leap  over  the  side.  Then,  as  the 
keen  autumn  air  washed  him  like  an 
endless  wave,  he  got  the  impression  of 
simply  rushing  through  space,  and  all 
fear  left  him. 

He  was  nearing  the  mill-pond  now, 
going  straight  as  an  arrow  and  almost 
as  swift.  Above  the  mad  rush  of  the 
wind  in  his  ears  he  heard  his  name  go  up 
in  a  mighty  shout.  He  got  a  glimpse  of 
Joe  Le  Grande  waving  a  flag  from  the 
top  of  the  mill,  saw  the  crowd  sway,  and 
then  like  a  flash  the  log  which  he  rode 
shot  back  from  under  his  feet,  and  he 
went  flying  over  the  side  of  the  flume. 
A  splash,  a  great  roaring  of  water  in  his 
ears,  and  after  what  seemed  a  small 
etemitv  he  came  to  the  surface  of  the  deep 
pool  into  which  his  good  angel  had  guided 
him.  Glancing  over  at  the  parallel  flume 
he  saw  a  red  shirt  shoot  past  him,  and  the 
next  moment  a  wild  huzzah  arose.  At 
the  sound  the  face  of  Lou  Le  Grande  rose 
up  reproachfully  before  Conklin.  He 
felt  a  sudden  sense  of  unbearable  shame 
at  the  realisation  of  his  failure ;  and  then 
his  thoughts  were  diverted  by  the  sight  of 
a  man  mounting  the  trestle-work  above 


288 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


him.  With  the  agility  of  a  cat  the  man 
regained  the  ground  and  dashed  away 
toward  the  mill,  Conklin  following. 

"A  wire  across  the  flume!"  the  man 
shouted  from  the  top  of  the  dam.  and  at 
the  word  Ma.xon's  men,  who  at  that 
moment  came  pouring  through  a  gap, 
rushed  at  BouteUier  with  a  chorus  of 
oaths  and  dragged  him  from  the  log  on 
which  he  still  stood  near  the  shore,  doffing 
his  slouch  hat  and  bowing  to  the  cheering 
crowd. 

"  Put  a  wire  across  our  flume,  did  you  ?  " 
" To  hell  with  the  cowardly  curl " 
"Hang  him  to  the  beech-tree  up  on  the 
cliff!"  came  in  quick  succession  from  the 
infuriated  men  in  blue. 

BouteUier  fought  like  a  wild  beast, 
den)'ing  as  long  as  he  had  breath  the  base 
act  of  treachery-  of  which  he  was  accused, 
but  he  was  soon  overpowered,  and  lay 
helpless  upon  the  sawdust-covered  ground. 
For  a  moment  the  men  in  blue  glared  at 
him  as  if  they  were  tempted  to  stamp  the 
life  out  of  him  on  the  spot;  then  with 
hoots  of  derision  they  started  to  drag  him 
to  the  top  of  the  chfT.  Conklin  ran  after 
them,  imploring  them  to  hsten  to  reason, 
but  they  paid  not  the  slightest  heed. 
Maxon,  realising  that  his  men  had  at  last 
got  beyond  his  control,  stood  motionless 
hke  a  weather-beaten  block  of  granite. 
From  the  east  trail  came  the  shouts  of 
Boutellier's  men,  who,  having  to  make  a 
long  detour  in  order  to  reach  the  mill, 
were  just  beginning  to  appear  on  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  ravine.  .\t  the  warning 
the  men  in  blue  rushed  the  helpless  giant 
up  the  cliff,  part  of  the  men  attending  to 
the  hanging,  and  the  remainder  getting 
ready  to  receive  the  red-shirts.  Armed 
with  their  steel-pointed  canthooks,  they 
stood  about  the  brow  of  the  cliff  prepared 
to  do  deadly  e.xecution  in  case  the  on- 
coming gang  attempted  to  rescue  their 
leader. 

With  a  dexterous  hitch  Long  Sanderson 
lashed  Boutellier's  hands  behind  him, 
cursing  him  for  a  cowardly  cur  as  he 
worked.  Boutellier's  eyes  looked  as 
baleful  as  a  mad  bull's,  but  he  maintained 
a  sullen  silence.  Sanderson  slipped  a 
noose  over  the  victim's  dishevelled  head, 
tos.sed  the  end  of  the  rope  over  a  branch, 
and  as  it  fell  a  dozen  eager  hands  seized  it. 


"Do  you  want  to  say  your  prayers?" 
demanded  the  self-appointed  executioner, 
eyeing  contemptuously  his  victim  from 
under  his  shaggy  red  brows.  BouteUier 
gave  him  a  look  of  unutterable  scorn,  and 
then  the  momentary  silence  was  broken 
by  a  woman's  voice  at  the  base  of  the  cliff, 
calling  imperiously: 

"Wait  a  moment,  Sanderson!  I  have 
something  I  want  to  say."  Sanderson 
wheeled  and  glared  at  the  intruder,  and 
then  as  he  recognised  Lou  Le  Grande  he 
deferentially  doffed  his  hat. 

"I  put  that  wire  across  the  flume:  Jean 
is  as  innocent  as  a  child,"  she  said,  with 
flushed  face  and  heaving  breast.  Sander- 
son stared  incredulously  for  a  moment, 
and  then  dropped  his  old  hat  with  an 
oath. 

"Let  him  go,  men!"  came  in  a  deep 
growl  from  the  base  of  the  cliff,  where 
Maxon  stood  massive,  motionless,  his 
great  paws  resting  on  the  top  of  his  cant- 
hook.  Opening  a  tobacco-stained  clasp- 
knife,  Sanderson  cut  the  cords  which 
bound  the  man,  who  had  escaped  hanging 
by  a  hair's  breadth,  and  Boutellier  climbed 
slowly  to  his  feet  and  shook  himself  like  a 
shaggy  dog  fresh  from  the  water.  Then 
his  eyes  met  Lou's,  and  with  a  bound  he 
went  over  the  edge  of  the  cliff  and  reached 
her  side. 

"Oh,  forgive  me,  Jean!  Say  you  for- 
give me!  It  was  a  dreadful  thing  to  do; 
but  I  was  so  afraid  you  would  lose ! "  W^th 
something  between  a  groan  and  a  cry 
BouteUier  wound  his  great  arms  about 
the  sobbing  girl,  and  drawing  her  close  to 
him  kissed  her  with  rare  tenderness. 
Then,  throwing  back  his  massive  head 
with  its  shaggy  hair,  he  looked  out  upon 
the  astonished  crowd  with  a  light  of 
triumph  in  his  flashing  black  eyes  such  as 
a  man  knows  but  once  in  Hfe. 

".Accept  mv  congratulations!"  said 
Conkhn,  stepping  up  and  offering  Boutel- 
lier his  hand,  when  the  touching  little 
tableau  was  over.  Boutellier  looked 
squarely  into  Conklin 's  eyes  for  a  moment, 
and  then  seized  the  proffered  hand  be- 
tween both  his  o\\Ti  and  wrung  it  in  silence. 

Three  hours  later  the  following  telegram 
reached  the  coach  of  the  McGill  football 
team:  "If  possible  save  place  on  team. 
Back  in  week      Conkli"." 


The  Mohawk's  Revenge 


By  THOMAS  F.  ASTLK 


KCILK  DK  SEVIGNY  had 

been  the  ha])piest  maiden  in 
all  New  France,  but  now  an 
unaccountable  foreboding  of 
calamity  possessed  her.  Her 
father,  Monsieur  le  Marquis  de  Sevigny, 
had  not  found  the  country  to  his  taste. 
He  was  the  leader  of  the  brilliant  company 
of  nobles  who  had  come  with  the  Marquis 
de  Tracy  to  Quebec  to  retrieve  lost  for- 
tunes or  to  satisfy  a  desire  for  adventure. 
But  Canada  was  not  an  Eldorado,  and 
fightinjf  sa\'ao;es  was  not  heroic  according 
to  tlie  standards  of  the  courtiers  of  Louis 
the  Magnificent.  Therefore '  Monsieur 
was  dissatisfied  and  determined  to  return 
to  the  land  of  his  birth. 

The  Marcjuis  wished  to  bid  farewell  to 
his  friends  in  a  manner  worthy  of  himself, 
and  on  the  eve  of  his  departure  entertained 
in  his  residence  those  of  the  citizens  of 
Quel:)ec  whom  he  considered  worthy  of  his 
notice. 

Merrily  the  evening  passed.  Young 
nobles  vied  with  the  officers  of  the  Carig- 
nan  Regiment  for  the  favour  of  the 
daughters  of  Old  France  and  of  those  of 
New  France,  the  first  of  the  Canadiennes. 
But  around  the  daughter  of  the  Marquis 
were  most  of  those  gay  spirits  gathered. 
No  maid  in  all  New  France  was  just  like 
Cecile  de  Sevigny,  none  so  courted,  but 
alas,  not  one  so  inaccessible. 

Amid  the  general  gaiety  and  laughter  it 
was  noticed  that  Cecile  was  unusually 
pensive  and  sad.  She  danced  and  sang, 
and  her  wit  was  sharp  as  ever,  but  she  was 
not  the  merry,  joyous  Cecile  of  other 
times. 

The  aged  Marquis  de  Tracy,  most  gal- 
lant of  gentlemen,  spoke  encouragingly 
to  her. 

"How  now,  pretty  one,"  .said  he.  "Is 
your  heart  hea\y  at  being  compelled  to 
leave  us ?  Or  perhaps,"  he  added  joking 
ly,  "you  are  sad  at  leaving  that  little  heart 
behind.  There  are  enough  here  who 
would  like  to  detain  it." 

"Who    knows,    Monsieur?"  answered 

289 


Cecile  with  a  far-away  look.  "This 
heart  of  mine  may  be  buried  here."  She 
was  thinking  of  Paul  and  the  revengeful 
Indians. 

The  music  started  for  the  ne.\t  dance, 
and  a  uniformed  officer  came  forward  to 
claim  Cecile  as  his  partner,  but  to  his 
chagrin  she  excused  herself. 

"I  must  be  alone  a  moment,"  she  said. 
"Monsieur  will  pardon." 

A  moment  later  she  passed  unnoticed 
through  the  dining-hall  to  a  side  door 
leading  to  the  verandah.  There  she 
paused  a  second,  but  no  one  was  following; 
then  stepped  noiselessly  to  the  soft  grass 
at  the  side  of  the  gravel  walk.  She  passed 
quickly  through  the  garden  to  the  back  of 
the  house;  then  into  a  grove  of  spruce 
trees  which  hid  from  view  the  maize  field 
beyond.  The  hght  of  the  candles  was  still 
dimly  outlining  her  graceful  figure  when 
a  youth  stepped  from  behind  a  tree. 

"Is  it  you,  Paul?"  she  a.sked  in  a  sweet 
mellow  whisper.  And  for  answer  she 
was  clasped  in  strong  arms  and  ardently 
embraced. 

"C'esi  nioi,  cherie.  I  was  afraid  you 
would  not  get  away.  But  come  behind 
these  bushes,  a  coureiir  de  hois  must  not 
be  seen  with  Mad'moiselle  Cecile  de 
Sevigny." 

"Yes,  I  am  so  afraid!  I  can  only  stay 
a  moment,  Paul.  Let  us  not  prolong  the 
pain  of  parting.  Oh  I  I  am  so  afraid 
something  terrible  will  happen  to  you! 
Those  blood-thirsty  savages!  Would  that 
I  could  stay  to  share  the  danger!" 

"Then  you  are  to  leave  for  France  to- 
morrow?" asked  the  youth  hopelessly. 

"Yes,  Paul,  it  must  be  so.  Our  dream 
\A'as  beautiful,  but  now  all  is  over." 

"Dieu,  if  there  was  only  some  way!" 
exclaimed  Paul.  "But  it  would  be  mad- 
ness. If  you  followed  me  in  my  wild  life 
you  would  not  live  a  month.  If  I  could  go 
to  France-;-but  you  know  why  I  am 
banished  hence." 

"Oh,  there  is  no  way,  Paul,  no  way! 
Our  fate  is  hard,  but  cannot  be  resisted." 


290 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


She  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck  and, 
looking  eagerly  into  his  face,  said  broken- 
heartedly :  "  You  will  always  have  my  love, 
Paul.  I  leave  my  heart  with  you.  \\Tien  I 
reach  France  I  will  renounce  the  world  and 
spend  the  rest  of  my  life  praying  for  you." 

"And  I,"  said  Paul,  "will  go  back  to 
the  forest  and  seek  the  death  that  ever 
lurks  there — what  was  that?" 

They  listened.  The  quick  ear  of  the 
bushranger  had  caught  some  faint  sound, 
but  it  was  not  repeated.  The  girl's  heart 
gave  a  great  thump. 

In  the  dancing-room  the  merriment  in- 
creased. 

"We  must  part  now,  Paul,"  sobbed  the 
trembling  girl.     "They  will  miss  me  in  a 


moment,  and  if  they  find  you  here  they 
will  kill  you.  Kiss  me,  Paul,  and  end 
this,  for  it  is  killing  me.  Adieu,  adieu! 
would  that  it  were  '  au  re  voir.' " 

Once  more  she  was  clasped  in  his  strong 
arms.  For  a  moment  the  ecstasy  of  love — 
then  a  feathered  figure  leapt  from  the 
darkness.  There  was  the  glint  of  steel, 
followed  by  muffled  groans  and  all  of  pain 
and  sorrow  was  gone  from  the  lovers 
forever. 

Swiftly,  noiselessly,  the  Mohawk  war- 
rior glided  like  a  snake  through  the  trees 
and  shrubbery,  while  the  straggling 
moonbeams  shone  on  the  nut-brown  hair 
and  golden  tresses  at  his  belt.  He  had 
meted  out  his  revenue. 


f        J 


POINTS  OF  VIEW 
FoREM.AX.     "Donal'  carries  twa  o'  thae  pipes." 
Dugald:     "Ay,  I  hae  obsairved  him  a'  the  forenoon, 
maun  jist  remonstrate  wi'  Donal'  yersel'." — Punch. 


--^^ 


But  ye 


THE  President's  Message  to  Congress 
covered  a  wide  range,  but  was  not 
as  startlingly  radical  as  some  had  antici- 
pated. Tiie  clause  in  which  Canadians 
were  chietiy  interested  was  that  with  refer- 
ence to  the  sealing  industry  in  the  Pribyloff 
Islands.  The  President  furnished  statis- 
tics showing  the  rapid  diminution  of  the 
seal  herds  and  attributed  it  to  pelagic 
sealing,  or  in  other  words  to  the  catching 
of  the  animals  at  sea.  It  will  be  remem- 
bered that  the  whole  question  was  consid- 
ered by  an  international  court,  of  which  Sir 
John  Thompson  was  a  member,  some 
years  ago.  The  chief  decisions  of  that 
court  were  that  a  close  season  should  be 
established  during  the  summer  months 
and  that  hunting  should  be  prohibited 
within  sixty  miles  of  the  islands.  As 
Japan  was  not  a  party  to  this  convention, 
the  Japanese  have  ignored  these  rules, 
and  it  is  altotjether  likelv  that  it  is  the 


^=7^^o^^ 


9.<^'<;/< 


THE  RAINBOW  BRIDGE 


1:91 


operations  of  their  hunters  that  have 
awakened  the  President's  interest  in  the 
matter.  ™ 

Nevertheless,  it  is  to  Great  Britain  he 
goes  with  complaints,  although  Great 
Britain  has  consented  to  an  extension  of 
territorial  waters  twenty  times  greater 
than  that  recognised  by  normal  inter- 
national law  in  any  other  part  of  the 
world.  The  President  seems  to  desire 
that  Canadians  should  cease  seal-hunting 
altogether.  Last  year  the  value  of  the 
Canadian  catch  was  $322,000.  The  ob- 
jection to  this  traffic  is  not  altogether,  we 
may  be  sure,  because  of  the  niunber  of 
seals  taken,  but  because  it  interferes  with 
that  monopoly  which  the  Alaska  Com- 
mercial Company  desires  to  preserve  in 
the  business.  The  company  leases  the  seal 
islands  from  the  United  States,  and  un- 
doubtedly regards  with  extreme  disfavour 
the  free  hunters  whose 
sales  of  skins  prevent 
it  from  regulating  prices 
and  exercising  the  other 
pleasurable  privileges 
that  appertain  to  monop- 
olies. .^ 


It  may  readily  be  agreed 
that  the  extermination  of 
the  seal  herds  could  justly 
be  called  an  act  of  van- 
dahsm,  and  if  it  be  shov\'n 
that  pelagic  sealing  must 
inevitably  lead  to  that 
result  it  should  be  stopped. 
But  it  must  be  stopped 
under  conditions.  The 
other  nations  interested 
will  not  stop  in  order  that 
the  United  States  may 
reap  all  the  benefits.  The 
national  treasury  derives 
a  handsome  revenue  from 
the  lease,  and  the  leasing 
company,    once    it    had 


-Brooklyn  Eagle 


292 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


a  monopoly  of  the  busi- 
ness, could  fix  its  profits 
to  suit  itself.  What  prop- 
osition is  Uncle  Sam  pre- 
pared to  make?  The 
islands  should  be  inter- 
nationalised and  the  com- 
merce in  skins  managed 
with  some  eye  to  the 
public  interest. 

U 

Another  matter  attract- 
ing much  interest  among 
our  neighbours  is  the 
trade  of  the  South  Amer- 
ican countries.  Secretary 
Root  journeyed  to  all  the 
principal  Pan-American 
capifals  last  summer,  but 
does  not  appear  to  have 
found  an  immediate  solu- 
tion of  the  problem  of 
securing  a  greater  share 
of  the  trade  of  these  coun- 
tries for  the  United  States. 
At  present  they  do  not 
enjoy  ten  per  cent,  of  it, 
Great  Britain  and  Ger- 
many securing  the  lion's 
share.  The  Secretary  now  tells  his 
countrymen  that  they  cannot  capture  their 
fair  proportion  of  this  trade  mitil  they  can 
carry  on  their  exchanges  in  American 
bottoms.  The  United  States  flag,  he 
says,  is  never  seen  in  the  harbours  of 
South  .America.  The  remedy  he  suggests 
is  the  Ship  Subsidy  Bill.  Unfortunately, 
in  the  middle  West  the  Shi])  Subsidy  Bill 
is  not  popular  even  among  Republicans, 
and  Democrats  all  over  the  couutry 
oppose  it  with  one  accord.  The  Senate 
passed  the  bill  during  the  former  session, 
but  the  House  rejected  it.  A  determined 
effort  will  be  xnade  to  get  it  through  at 
the  current  session.  It  will  confirm  the 
xaew  that  the  party  in  power  is  tied  hand 
and  foot  to  self-interested  cliques  of 
monev-makers  in  the  Atlantic  coast  cities. 


In  the  British  Parliament  the  Educa- 
tion Bill  is  still  the  .storm-centre.  The 
other  day  in  the  House  of  Lords  the 
Marcjuis   of    Lansdowne,    leader    of   the 


A  LITTLE  RECOXSTITUTION 

The  Bishops — "There!  he  looks  quite  nice  now — his  own 
parents  won't  know  him  when  we  send  him  back  to  them." 

— Westminster  Gazette 


Opposition  in  that  body,  laid  down  cer- 
tain principles  with  regard  to  the  attitude 
of  that  House  on  public  measures  that 
have  attracted  some  attention.  He  ex- 
pressed his  total  dissent  from  the  pro- 
visions of  the  Trades  Disputes  Bill,  but 
said  that  he  would  not  call  upon  the  peers 
to  throw  it  out,  because  it  was  one  of  the 
measures  which  he  recognised  as  having 
played  a  part  in  the  general  election. 
The  voters  by  their  ballots  had  approved 
of  the  principle  involved  in  it,  and  he 
was  not  prepared  to  set  his  predilections 
in  opposition  to  that  decision. 


It  will,  of  course,  be  asked  whether  the 
existing  educational  situation  was  not 
equally  condemned  at  the  general  election. 
The  two  prominent  topics  were  undoubt- 
edly Mr.  Chamberlain's  fi.scal  proposals 
and  the  Unionist  educational  policy. 
Mr.  Chamberlain  and  all  his  followers 
l;elieve  that  the  success  of  the  Liberals 
was  not  so  much   due  to  the  opposition 


CURRENT  EVENTS  ABROAD 


293 


to  the  revival  of  Protection 
as  hostility  to  the  Unionist 
solution  of  the  educational 
problem.  That  played  ([uite 
as  [>rominent  a  part  as  the 
question  whether  a  Trades 
Union  could  be  the  subject 
of  legal  proceedings  for 
damage  caused  by  the  action 
of  its  officers.  Many  will  feel 
that  neither  the  Liberal  nor 
the  Unionist  solution  of  the 
educational  question  is  satis- 
factory any  more  than  it  is 
satisfactory  in  Canada.  Both 
here  and  in  the  Old  Country 
we  must  recognise  that  denom- 
inational teaching,  however 
desirable,  is  impossible  in 
state-aided  schools.  When 
that  is  said,  however,  it  should 
not  e.xclude  the  children  from 
gaining  an  accjuaintance  with 
the  most  important  book  that 
comes  from  the  press.  The 
idea  of  withholding  from 
children  a  wide  knowledge  of 
a  book  that  is  imbedded  in  the 
history  of  the  country  and  which  tinctures 
and  informs  literature  in  all  its  branches, 
b  one  to  which  too  strong  terms  of  con- 
demnation could  scarcely  be  applied. 
There  is  surely  a  solution  that  would 
take  away  this  reproach.  A  pupil  who 
emerges  from  the  schools  without  a  fairly 
extensive  knowledge  of  the  Old  and  New 
Testaments  has  a  large  })art  of  his  educa- 
tion to  complete. 

Pope  Pius  X  has  determined  to  resist, 
in  a  passive  way  at  least,  the  etTorts  of 
the  French  authorities  to  separate  church 
and  state.  The  impression  created  on 
most  fair-minded  people  is  that  whatever 
the  merits  or  demerits  of  the  movement 
may  be,  the  work  is  being  done  in  a  quite 
unnecessarily  harsh  and  unfeeling  way. 
A  man  has  a  right  to  dispossess  his  tenants, 
but  when  he  e.xercises  that  right  in  an 
inhumane  wa}'  public  opinion  is  not  slow 
to  express  itself.  Tf  he  turns  a  helpless 
I  woman  and  a  brood  of  half-clothed  chil- 
I  dren  on  to  the  roadside,  public  condem- 
nation  of  his  conduct   almost   overbears 


THE  OYSTER  AND  THE  SHELL 


A  condition  Secretary   Root  is  said   to  have   faced  in 
South  America. — Minneapolis  Jourual. 


his  legal  rights.  The  case  in  France  has 
some  analogy  to  this.  Men  have  grown 
grey  in  the  service  of  the  church  in  France 
and  now,  in  the  midst  of  the  debility  of 
age,  they  are  cast  forth  to  make  what 
provisions  they  can  for  the  maintenance 
of  life.  There  is  no  special  hardship  in 
asking  the  church  to  depend  upon  the 
voluntary  offerings  of  its  worshippers  in 
France  as  in  America,  but  the  cruelty 
arises  in  the  sudden  change  of  conditions 
without  adequate  prt)\ision  for  bridging 
the  gulf  between  the  old  aud  the  new. 

What  will  be  the  result?  Are  there 
enough  true  sons  of  the  church  in  France 
to  establish  a  crusade?  Some  talk  of 
revolution  under  a  Bourbon  or  a  Bona- 
parte, but  the  way  revolutions  are  effected 
nowadays  is  at  the  ballot-box.  If  there  is 
a  majority  of  the  voters  of  France  hostile 
to  the  Clemenceau  programme  they  should 
be  able  to  upset  all  that  is  being  done  at 
the  next  election .  But  the  call  of  the  Pope 
mav  awake  fires  that  are  now  smouldering. 

John  A.   Ewan 


\^rrAN 


^PME^Rt 


Q::..s^-^.^x?mmm 


'  I  HERE'S  a  thing  we  love  to  think  of  when 

the  frost  and  ice  and  snow 
Hold  high  carnival  together,  and  the  biting 

north  winds  blow. 
There's  a  thing  we  love  to  think  of  through 

the  bitter  winter  hours, 
For  it   stirs  a   warmth  within  us — 'tis  this 

fair  young  land  of  ours. 
Something  sings  it  all  the  day, 

Canada,  fair  Canada; 
And  the  pride  thrills  through  and  through  us, 
'Tis  our  birthplace,  Canada. 

—  lean  Blewett 

u 

PRACTICAL   PATRIOTS 

THE  city,  on  what- used-to-be-called 
Burlington  Bay,  deserves  the  ad- 
jective that  has  become  historic.  When  a 
Hamiltonian  goes  to  Marathon,  he  shows 
the  rest  of  the  world  a  clean  pair  of  heels. 
When  the  Hamilton  Daughters  of  the 
Empire  undertake  to  fight  the  white 
plague,  the  tuberculosis  germ  or  microbe, 
or  whatever  it  is,  simply  curls  up  in  con- 
sternation. Last  May  the  Governor- 
General  of  Canada  opened  the  Mountain 
Sanatorium,  equipped  by  the  chapters  of 
the  I.O.D.E.,  who  had  worked  most  suc- 
cessfully under  their  enthusiastic  regent, 
Mrs.  P.  D.  Crerar.  Just  before  Christ- 
mas these  Hamilton  daughters  gave  a 
vmique  entertainment,  "Childhood's 
Days,"  which  resulted  in  a  handsome 
stmi  being  expended  on  winter  comforts 
for  the  patients  at  the  sanatorium. 

As  women  all  over  Canada  are  anxious 
to  receive  suggestions  for  new  entertain- 
ments, it  may  be  well  to  describe  this 
delightful  affair.  Every  booth  in  the 
Thistle  Rink  was  arranged  in  illustration 
of  a  rh\TTie  or  tradition  of  childhood. 
Four  and  twenty  blackbirds  served  the  best 
of  substantial  fare,  green-and-silver  fairies 
dispensed  ice-cream,  the  Queen  of  Hearts 

294 


and  all  the  little  Hearts  displayed  the 
fancy  work,  chr3-santhemum  girls  served 
cooling  lemonade,  and  the  most  "fetch- 
ing" Turkish  maidens  served  black  coffee 
in  an  Oriental  comer.  There  were  no 
fancy  or  Cobalt  prices,  and  the  Hamilton 
"Daughters"  deserved  every  cent  for 
their  commendable  cause. 

tr 

THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SNOB 

A  CANADIAN  newspaper  got  into 
all  sorts  of  trouble  not  long  ago 
and  the  story  of  its  tribulation  provided 
amusement  for  the  men  readers.  A?  all 
the  feminine  world  knows,  the  modem 
daily  newspaper  usually  has  a  department 
tnowii  as  the  society  column,  in  which 
pink  teas  and  noisy  weddings  are  chron- 
icled. Happy  is  the  woman  whose  name 
appears  "among  those  present, "and  thrice 
happy  is  she  whose  chic  gown  and  re- 
cherche boa  are  deemed  worthy  of  men- 
tion I  Such  columns  are  usually  marked 
by  bad  English  and  worse  French,  while 
the  men  who  call  them  silly  slush  are  not 
far  wrong.  However,  they  are  no  worse 
than  the  page  devoted  to  sport,  and  if  you 
do  not  believe  me  just  read  a  few  para- 
graphs about  the  "bonspiels"  and  such 
trivialities. 

But  to  return  to  the  aforesaid  news- 
paper. Quite  without  the' editor's  knowl- 
edge, "inadvertently"  as  the  politicians 
say,  a  letter  signed  "Anonyma"  found 
its  way  into  print.  The  writer  expres.sed 
herself  as  disgusted  that  the  name  of  a 
certain  woman  whose  husband  is  connect- 
ed with  "trade"  should  appear  in  the 
social  columns  of  the  paper  to  which  the 
Avriter  addressed  herself.  The  offender's 
onlv  oljiectionable  feature  was  her  hus- 


WOMAN'S    SPHERE 


295 


band's  business.  After  this  letter  came  a 
deluge  ot  protesting  correspondence  from 
democratic  citizens  who  tore  the  foolish 
'"Anonyma"  to  shreds.  Taking  it  alto- 
gether, the  episode  is  highly  humorous, 
especially  when  one  considers  the  lady's 
pen-name.  Has  "Anonyma"  ever  stud- 
ied Greek?  We  fear  that  her  ancestors 
had  more  dollars  than  culture  or  she  would 
not  have  made  such  a  blunder. 

A  Canadian's  house  is  his  castle,  and  his 
wife  makes  out  the  visiting  list.  She  has 
a  perfect  right  to  invite  or  exclude  as  her 
personal  taste  may  dictate.  If  "trade" 
be  offensive,  let  her  avoid  its  associations. 
But  she  only  exposes  herself  to  ridicule 
w'hen  she  indulges  in  such  criticism  as 
that  of  the  complaining    correspondent. 

In  a  new  country  like  ours,  the  small 
grocer  of  to-day  is  the  capitalist  of  to- 
morrow. It  w'ould  be  edifying  to  know 
just  what  the  de.scendants  of  the  "old 
families"  of  one  hundred  years  ago  are 
doing  to-day.  It  would  also  be  edifying 
to  know  who  "Anonyma's"  grandpapa  is 
or  was.  All  this  talk  about  "trade" 
savours  of  antiquity  in  the  extreme.  John 
Bull  is  a  shopkeeper,  although,  as  Merri- 
man  tells  us,  he  usually  keeps  a  gvm 
behind  the  counter.  Lord  Iveagh  and  Sir 
Thomas  Lipton  go  in  surprisingly  "good" 
society  and  are  tired,  no  doubt,  of  seeing 
their  names  among  those  present.  It  is 
not  those  of  gentle  birth  who  assert  super- 
iority. It  is  the  new  rich  who,  in  the 
language  of  "Lady  Baltimore,"  have  not 
"money  enough  to  gild  their  bristles." 

rr 

MISLEADING  ADVERTISEMENTS 

CEVERAL  of  the  Canadian  news- 
^  papers,  among  them  the  Toronto 
Globe,  have  published  editorial  warnings 
against  a  certain  class  of  advertisements 
that  promises  yoimg  Canadian  girls  em- 
plo\Tnent  in  United  States  cities.  \\Tiile 
our  newspapers  exercise  great  caution 
regarding  advertisements  that  seem  in 
any  way  dubious,  it  is  impossible  to  obtain 
absolute  safety  in  advertising  matter.  It 
is  of  the  most  \-ital  importance  that  young 
girls,  especially  those  in  villages  or  the 
country,  should  be  on  their  guard  regard- 
ing offers  of  employment  in  Buffalo, 
Detroit    or    Chicago.     One    can    hardly 


believe  in  the  diabolical  depravity  that 
has  lured  unsuspecting  girls  into  .shame 
worse  than  death.  But  facts,  as  terrible 
as  they  are  true,  are  in  the  possession  of 
certain  charitable  and  social  organisations 
in  our  cities,  and  once  more  the  girls  of 
Canada  seeking  foreign  or  city  em[)loy- 
ment  are  urged  to  make  every  inquiry 
before  taking  steps  towards  .securing  the 
advertised  positions. 

U 

RUSKIN  AND  GIRLHOOD 

TN  the  November  number  of  Scribner'i 
-*■  Magazine  is  a  most  interesting 
article  on  "Ruskin  and  Girlhood,"  by  L. 
Allen  Marker.  The  writer  tells  how  a 
Ruskin  Society  was  formed  in  her  native 
town  w'hich  tried  to  bring  beauty  and 
pleasantness  into  the  homes  of  the  ex- 
tremely poor.  One  of  the  youthful 
members  was  in  favour  of  distributing 
photographs  of  Era  Angelico's  pictures 
among  the  distressed.  The  author  of 
the  article  wrote  to  Ruskin  complaining 
that  a  photograph  of  Carpaccio's  St. 
Ursula  had  been  received  with  the 
scantiest  approbation  by  a  bed-ridden  old 
woman.     Ruskin  said  in  reply: 

"Give  the  poor  whatever  pictures  you 
find  they  like  of  nice  things,  not  of  merely 
pathetic  or  pompous  ones.  They're  apt 
to  like  sick  children  star^nng  in  bed, 
beggars  at  street  doors,  Queen  Vic  open- 
ing Parliament,  etc.  Give  them  anything 
that's  simple,  cheerful  or  pious;  always,  if 
possible,  coloured — never  mind  how  badly. 
Shall  I  send  you  some  coloured  birds?" 

One  of  the  difficulties  with  a  certain 
class  of  young  w^omen  is  that  they  take  life 
too  seriously  and  are  everlastingly  worrvnng 
over  their  feelings,  as  if  their  mental  and 
emotional  "states"  were  of  planetary 
importance.  These  are  the  honestly  mis- 
led young  persons  w-ho  adore  fashionable 
clergymen  and  run  after  fake  philoso- 
phers. ^A  ould  that  they  might  meet  such 
a  wnse  Mentor  as  Ruskin  proved  himself! 
Here  is  a  bit  of  advice:  "To  answer  your 
main  question  about  having  a  right  to  be 
happy,  it  is  not  only  everybody's  right 
but  duty  to  be  so,  only  to  choose  the  best 
sort  of  happiness.  And  the  best  sorts  are 
not  to  be  had  cheap." 

Ruskin,  according  to  the  writer,  would 


296 


THE   CANADIAN   IVIAGAZINE 


never,  even  to  [)lease  his  pels,  pretend 
either  interest  or  admiration  which  he  did 
not  feel.  "And  there  are  perhaps  per- 
sons who  Avill  heartily  sympathise  with 
the  foUowins;  sentiments": 

"Indeed  I'm  sorry  to  have  grieved  \ou 
and  A.  I  knew  I  should,  but  couldn't 
help  it.  I  can't  pretend  to  care  for  things 
I  don't  care  for.  I  don't  care  for  babies. 
Rather  have  an  objection  to  them.  Have 
no  respect  for  them  whatsoever.  Like 
little  pigs  ever  so  much  better.  Here's 
my  Utile  wood  woman  come  down  to  fetch 
me  my  faggots;  she's  got  nine  piglets  to 
take  care  of,  and  her  whole  hean  is  set 
on  them,  and  I  call  her  PigAviegina,  and 
infjuire  for  her  family  veri-  anxiouslv 
every  day — but  you  really  mustn't  expect 
me  to  care  for  inferior  beings."  What- 
ever may  be  thought  of  Ruskin's  prefer- 
ence, whereby  the  piglet  is  set  above  the 
humianlet,  he  was  a  very  brave  and  honest 
man  to  wTitc  such  a  letter  to  an  enthusias- 
tic young  mother.  But  he  would  have 
been  defeated  as  a  candidate  for  parlia- 
mentary honours. 

There  are  many  whimsical  turns  in  his 
letters  to  the  \-oung  folks.  After  a  period 
of  severe  illness  and  depression  he  wrote: 
■"I  had  great  joy  and  sense  of  being  in 
my  right  place  to-day  in  the  Turner  room, 
and  am  going  to  stay  in  London  till  people 
have  been  taught  that  they  can't  make 
my  skin  into  gloves  yet.  ...  I  went  to 
the  Private  View  of  the  old  Water  Colour 
yesterdav,  and  there  were  people  glad  to 
see  me  there.  Robert  Bro\\T>ing  among 
others.  And  I've  been  to  the  British 
museum  and  am  sta\nng  very  contentedly 
within  reach  of  it  and  some  other  places. 
And  I'm  not  going  to  theatres,  and  alto- 
gether I'm  as  good  just  now  as  I  know 
how  to  be."  w 

PROFESSORS  OF  DOMESTIC 
ECONOMY 

IN  Canada,  as  well  as  in  the  United 
States  and  England,  the  teaching  of 
domestic  economy  is  becoming  a  calling 
for  women.  Miss  Eunice  T.  Biggs  in  an 
article  cm  the  subject  in  an  Enghsh  period- 
ical says:  "A  cheerful  brisk  tone  prevails 
among  the  students,  and  their  unanimous 
verdict  is  that  the  work,  though  hard,  is 
enjovable.     It    is    certainly    work     well 


suited  to  womanly  tastes  and  capainliries; 
to  carry  it  through,  physical  activity  must 
be  combined  v,-ith  a  high  degree  of  mental 
alertness."  w 

WOMEN'S  CLUBS  IN  LONDON 

ACCORDING  to  an  article  in  the 
Grand  Magazine,  "the  first  genuine 
women's  club  in  London  was  the  Somer- 
xille.  Established  in  1878,  it  passed 
through  years  of  change  and  \icissitudes 
in  its  modest  premises  over  a  popular  tea- 
shop.  It  began  modestly  wdth  a  sub- 
scription and  entrance-fee  aHke  fixed  at 
five  shillings.  \A'hen  it  took  smarter 
premises  in  Hanover-square  it  soon  suc- 
cumbed, and  is  now  only  remembered  as 
a  pioneer  in  club  history. 

"In  1884  the  Alexandra  Club  was 
founded.  Its  membership  soon  reached 
900.  The  qualification  was  ehgibility  to 
attend  H.M.'s  drawing-rooms. 

"In  1887  the  University  Club  came 
into  being,  and,  as  its  name  denotes,  was 
the  meeting-place  for  students  and  women 
who  had  been  at  college  together.  The 
Umit  of  members  was  then  300;  quahfica- 
tion,  a  degree  at  any  imiversity  or  regis- 
tration as  a  medical  practitioner  of  the 
United  Kingdom. 

"In  1892,  Mrs.  Massingberd  created 
the  Pioneer  Club.  .A.  woman  of  ideal 
aims,  she  was  always  ready  with  a  gener- 
ous purse  to  keep  her  creation  in  the 
vanguard  of  progress.  The  club  was, 
therefore,  very  progressive,  and,  though 
beginning  modestly  over  a  perfumer's 
shop  in  Regent  Street,  is  now  established 
in  a  house  of  its  own  at  No.  5  Grafton 
Street.  Each  Pioneer  wears  a  small  axe, 
the  club  badge,  and  is  known  by  a  number 
in  lieu  of  her  name  as  a  svmbol  of  perfect 
equahty.  Female  suffrage,  anti-vivi- 
section, temperance  and  vegetarianism 
appealed  to  many  Pioneers,  whilst  a 
number  of  writers,  actresses,  and  singers 
have  from  the  first  been  included  in  the 
list  of  members.  The  club  motto  is: 
'  They  say  ?  \^^lat  say  they  ?  Let  them 
say.'  Equipped  %vith  all  these  fine 
phrases,  the  Pioneers  serenely  disregarded 
the  sneers  of  facetious  people,  who  were 
highly  amused  that  a  Temperance  Club 
should  provide  a  smoking  room  for  its 
members.     .\   further   source   of   amuse- 


WOMAN'S   SPHERE 


297 


ment  was  the  evening  dress  of  the  Pioneers, 
a  black  satin  jacket,  with  a  white  collar 
and  tie,  taking  the  place  of  low-necked 
evening  toilettes." 

The  writer  concludes  a  most  entertain 
ing  article  by  asserting:  "When  women 
have  acquired  the  sense  of  comradeship 
learnt  by  men  in  public  schools,  which 
they  certainly  lack,  then  even  men  will 
allow  that  clubs  are  as  necessary  for 
women  as  for  themselves." 

tr 

POPULAR  ACTORS 

ON  this  continent  at  least,  the  stage  is 
more  popular  with  women  than 
^vith  men.  Concerts,  art  exhibitions, 
and  plays  are  patronised  by  audiences 
largely  feminine.  There  may  have  been 
few  women  who  deserve  to  be  called 
"artists"  in  the  creative  sense;  but  the 
men  who  write  the  great  novels  and 
dramas,  who  paint  the  masterpieces  and 
compose  the  magnificent  operas,  would  be 
left  with  slim  audiences  were  it  not  for 
the  appreciation  of  women.  However, 
the  stage  is  a  sphere  where  woman  has 
proved  her  equality  to  man,  since  acting 
is  her  ven-  nature.  Indeed  it  may  be 
questioned  if  an  actor  has  attained  the 
histrionic  perfection  of  Benihardt  or 
Rachel. 

.\n  actor  who  does  not  win  the  approval 
of  women  is  lost.     But  there  is  a  certain 
kind  of  actor  who  is  sure  to  appeal  to 
feminine  enthusiasm.     Of  this  class  are 
John  Drew,  Kyrle  Bellew,  Nat  Goodwin 
and,  in  a  lesser  degree,  James  K.  Hackett. 
They  are  artists  who  have  brought  the 
drawing-room  manner  to  perfection,  and 
who,  while  sacrificing  no  whit  of  manli- 
ness,   are    graceful    and    poetic    lovers. 
There  is  a  difference  between  sentiment- 
ality and  romance,  and  many  a  woman, 
[   who  is  merely  and  delightfully  romantic, 
is  accused   of   the   former   silly   quality, 
j  Anglo-Saxon  men  are  stolid  in  expression 
1  and  awkward  in  gesture,  whatever  they 
i  may  be   in   feeling.     Hence   the   woman 
who  craves  polished  manners  in  her  ad- 
mirer turns  with  quick  appreciation   to 
the   golden-voiced    actor,   finding   in   his 
I  speech   and   gallantrv   the   Ivanhoe.    the 


MR.   NAT  GOODWIN 

Rudolf  Rassendyll  or  the  Cyrano  whom 
she  has  secretly  cherished.  Women  do 
not  care  for  crude  or  lavish  expression; 
what  they  crave  is  delicate  suggestion, 
subtle  phrase,  courtly  wooing.  What 
wonder,  then,  that  they  turn  eagerly  to 
the  drama  for  what  they  seldom  find  in 
real  life?  Three  of  these  actors  who  ex- 
emplify the  gallant  equalities  have  recently 
been  in  Canada:  the  English  K}Tle 
Bellew,  the  American  Nat  Goodwin,  and 
our  own  James  K.  Hackett. 


WOMEN  EDITORS 

BOTH  in  ^^'est  and  East  the  woman  jour- 
nalist is  assuming  greater  responsibil- 
ity. ^Nliss  Clara  Hind  of  the  Manitoba 
Free  Press  has  achieved  unusual  suc- 
cess in  the  business  department,  her  crop 
estimates  being  held  in  high  regard.  Miss 
Annie  B.  MerriU  is  doing  creditable  edi- 
torial work  on  the  Calgary  Townsman, 
while  Miss  Isabel  Armstrong  of  London, 
Ontario,  has  fuU  charge  of  the  Echo 
and  got  out  this  year  an  extremelv  hand- 
some hoHday  number  of  that  enterprising 
weekly. 

Jean  Graham 


?\bovt 

Aew 


BOOKS  BY  CANADIAN  AUTHORS 

TEN  noteworthy  books  of  the  month 
are  by  Canadian  authors.  They 
are  as  follows:  "The  Doctor,"  by  Ralph 
Connor,  who  is  now  regarded  as  one  of 
the  leading  novelists  of  the  day;  "  The 
Undertow,"  by  Robert  S.  Knowles,  a  rising 
personality;  "Alexander  McBain,  B  A.," 
by  AdeHne  M.  Teskey,  a  Welland  ladv, 
author  also  of  "The  Village  Artist"; 
"The  Camerons  of  Bruce,"  by  R.  L. 
Richardson,  author  of  "Colin  of  the 
Ninth  Concession";  "The  Cornflower 
and  Other  Poems,"  by  Jean  Blewett; 
"Songs  and  Sonnets,"  by  Helena  Cole- 
man; "A  Song  of  Empire  and  Other 
Poems,"  by  George  Frederick  Scott; 
"Preludes:  Sonnets  and  Other  Verses,'' 
by  John  Daniel  Logan;  "Studies  in  Plant 
Life,"  by  Catharine  Parr  Traill;  "Cupid 
and  the  Candidate,"  by  Mrs.  Leeming 
Carr,  of  Hamilton. 

U     . 

"THE  DOCTOR" 

ONE  might  be  almost  justified  in  say- 
ing that  "The  Doctor"  (Toronto: 
The  Westminster  Company,  Limited,) 
is  Ralph  Connor's  best  work.  If  one  were 
content  to  stop  at  the  night  when  Barney 
entered  Dick's  bachelor  apartments  and 
found  his  trusted  brother  and  lola,  his 
sweetheart,  in  a  passionate  embrace — if 
one  were  content  tu  stop  there  and  read 
no  further,  the  verdict  would  likely  be 
that  the  author  had  exceeded  himself. 
But  it  is,  perhaps,  the  best  word  for  the 
story  to  say  that  the  reader  is  not  con- 
tent to  stop  there.  Unfortunately,  how- 
ever, the  latter  half  does  not  seem  to 
ring  true,  and  the  denouement  is  any- 
thing but  satisfactory.  Maybe  it  suf- 
fers the  fate  of  many  so-called  purpose- 
ful novels,  and  it  is  interesting  to  wonder 
whether    the    author    has    sacrificed    the 

298 


acclaim  of  posterity  in  order  to  serve 
what  to  him  appears  to  be  the  present 
and  higher  duty.  "The  Doctor"  is  a 
well-executed,  almost  delightful  ro- 
mance up  to  the  end  of  the  fourteenth 
chapter,  but  from  the  fifteenth  chapter 
on  there  is  deterioration.  The  first 
chapter  takes  the  reader  into  sweet  rural 
bypaths  in  old  Ontario,  and  introduces 
a  charming  maiden,  with  the  red  of  the 
thistle  in  her  cheek,  the  perfume  of  the 
clover  in  her  hair,  and  the  frankness  of 
truth  and  the  glory  of  good  breeding  as 
the  chief  mainstays  of  her  character. 
Margaret  Robertson  loves  and  is  loved 
by  a  neighbour's  son,  Barney  Boyle. 
Barney  has  a  brother  Dick,  who  is  about 
to  return  from  college,  and  the  three 
meet  at  a  dance  following  a  bam  raising. 
At  the  dance  unexpectedly  appears  a 
young  school  teacher  named  lola,  a 
Southern  damsel,  possessing  a  wonder- 
fully seductive  voice  and  a  face  and  form 
full  of  sensuousness  and  alluring  beauty. 
Tola  sings  and  striuns  upon  a  guitar  and 
captivates  the  rude  but  sensitive  Bamey. 
Barney  had  pledged  his  word  to  his 
mother  to  "see"  Dick  through  college, 
but  suddenly  his  eyes  are  opened,  and 
if  Dick  is  to  be  a  minister  he  will  be  a 
doctor.  But  Dick  is  in  no  uay  slighted, 
and  a  means  is  provided  for  both  youths 
to  go.  Then  the  scene  of  action  shifts 
from  the  coimtry  to  Toronto,  where  we 
find  Bamey  and  Dick  at  college,  Mar- 
garet in  training  as  a  nurse,  and  lola 
cultivating  her  voice.  Margaret  loves 
Bamey  intensely;  Barney  loves  lola  al- 
most madly;  Dick  loves  Margaret  per- 
haps less  passionately,  while  lola  is 
ambitious  for  a  "career."  lola  con- 
ducts herself  loosely,  if  not  altogether 
wantonly,  and  so  drives  Barney  to  Bal- 
timore in  despair.  While  Bamey  is 
away,  Dick,  who  has  fallen  somewhat 
because  of  academical  chastisement  for 


ABOUT   NEW   BOOKS 


299 


heretical  leanings,  and  who  has  no  hope 
of  winning  Margaret,  cultivates  the  com- 
panionship of  lola.  One  night  the  two 
give  way  momentarily  to  a  common 
moral  weakening,  and  are  discovered 
by  Barney,  who  has  returned  in  obedi- 
ence to  his  frantic  affection  for  this  young 
woman.  Then  Barney  disappears,  and 
lola  goes  abroad  to  conquer  Europe. 
Dick  goes  as  a  missionary  to  British 
Columbia,  having  reconciled  the  church 
authorities,  and  it  becomes  convenient 
also  to  transfer  Margaret  thither  as 
matron  of  Kuskinook  hospital.  Barney 
turns  up  in  that  western  district,  where 
he  is  medical  superintendent  for  a  rail- 
way company.  Finally  a  letter  is  re- 
ceived from  lola,  and  Barney  sets  off 
to  \asit  her  in  Scotland  He  finds  her 
at  death's  door,  she  having  gone  into 
decline,  and  after  she  dies,  on  the  day 
of  his  arrival,  he  returns  to  the  Rockies 
and  falls  a  victim  of  appendicitis.  Mar- 
garet and  Dick  are  present  at  the  last, 
and  Margaret's  love  of  Barney  stands 
the  test  of  years.  But  the  last  chapter 
finds  Dick  and  Margaret,  a  year  later, 
back  in  the  old  b}^aths,  and  when  Dick 
repeats  his  love  story-  it  falls  on  respon- 
sive ears.  According  to  the  light  of  the 
story  lola  was  intended  for  Dick  and 
Margaret  for  Barney.  But  "The  Doc- 
tor" is  a  purposeful  novel,  misnamed 
withal,  for  Bamev  Boyle  was  "The 
Man"  first  and  "The  'Doctor"  after- 
wards. Nevertheless  word  comes  from 
the  publishers  that  already  i50;00o  copies 
have  been  sold. 


"THE   UNDERTOW" 

T^HE  author  of  "  St.  Cuthbert's,"  which 
•^  easily  proved  the  best  selling  Cana- 
dian novel  of  1906,  has  produced  a  new 
stor)^"The  Undertow"  (Toronto:  The 
Fleming  H.  Revell  Company) ,  which  sur- 
passes its  predecessor  in  every  quality.  In- 
deed, Mr.  Knowles  in  this  new  novel  has 
done  work  which  has  not  yet  been  attempt- 
ed by  any  other  Canadian  writer,  and 
which  places  him,  in  the  estimation  of  some 
critics,  beside  such  workers  in  the  same 
field  as  Thomas  Hardy,  Henry  James, 
and  George  Aleredith.  ''  The  Undertow  " 


MR.  ROBERT  S.  KNOWLES 

Whose  novel  "The  Undertow"  is  arousing  a 
good  deal  of  comment 


is  an  enlargement  upon  a  metaphor. 
What  the  strong  swimmer  most  fears  is 
not  the  rolling  billows  and  the  rushing 
waters,  but  the  hidden  vmdercurrents 
which  tug  at  him  and  devour  his  strength. 
So  is  it  in  life — in  the  moral  and  spiritual 
life.  The  forces  that  make  for  the  down- 
fall of  the  human  soul  are  not  those  which 
one  can  combat  in  the  open;  they  are 
the  hidden  sins  that  haunt  the  soul's 
obscure  recesses.  This  is  the  theme  of 
^Ir  Knowles'  novel,  and  he  has  worked 
it  out  with  great  power  and  skill.  Since 
Mr.  Knowles  seems  to  have  gifts  for 
melodrama,  w^e  w^ould  suggest  that  the 
story  be  dramatised.  Properly  staged, 
it  would  make  an  effective  presentation  of 
a  cardinal  truth  which  the  preachers 
either  neglect  altogether  or  handle  with 
doubtful  power.  We  recommend  the 
book  strongly.  We,  however,  suggest 
that  in  a  future  edition  it  would  be  well 
for  the  author  to  eliminate  as  much  as 
possible    the    homely,    pathetic    element. 


300 


THE   CANADIAN   AIAGAZINE 


MRS.  JEAX    BLEWETT 
Author  of  "The  Cornflower  and  Other  ] 

dubiously  secured  by  quotations  from  the 
Presbyterian  Book  of  Praise. 

A  TEMPERANCE  STORY 

ALEXANDER  McBAIN,  B.A."  (To- 
ronto: The  Fleming  H.  Revell  Com- 
pany) is  the  story  of  a  promising  life 
ruined  because  of  an  inherited  weakness 
for  stimulant.  A  young  man  of  unusual 
capabilities,  enjoying  the  respect  of  his 
community  and  the  love  of  a  charming 
village  maiden,  is  permitted  to  go  to 
college  owing  to  the  industr}-  and  self- 
sacrifice  of  a  widowed  mother.  He  is  a 
good  student,  and  a  good  man  at  heart. 


but  his  inherent  tend- 
ericy  towards  in- 
ebriety finally  over- 
comes his  good  ap- 
preciation of  decorum. 
He  falls  into  indolent 
and  drunken  habits. 
He  is  discharged  from 
a  modest  position  in 
the  village  store,  and 
finally  leaves  home  in  a 
state  of  penury,  from 
Vv'hich  he  fails  to  re- 
cover. Finally,  on  his 
way  home  again  in  a 
repentant  mood,  he  is 
converted  at  a  religious 
meeting,  but  whether 
there  was  a  sufficient 
change  to  overcome  the 
desire  for  drink  is  not 
put  to  the  test,  because 
almost  immediately 
afterwards  the  young 
man  is  killed  while 
rescuing  a  child.  That 
is  where  the  story  fails 
most,  although  at  best 
it  is  disappointing,  the 
chief  character  lacking 
definiteness  and  mag- 
netism with  the  others 
verging  on  the  com- 
monplace. However,  as 
a  temperance  story, 
"Alexander  McBain, 
ems"  B.-'V.,"    should    find    a 

place.  It  is  also  a  faith- 
ful picture  of  life  in  the  average  Ontario 
village  where  gossip  and  wholesomeness 
compete  for  first  place. 

tr 

MRS.  BLEWETT'S  WORK 

FEW  writers  of  verse  in  Canada  have 
a  more  sympathetic  or  admiring 
following  than  Jean  Blewett,  whose 
latest  volume,  "The  Cornflower  and 
Other  Poems,"  has  just  been  issued  by 
William  Briggs,  Toronto.  There  is  per- 
haps good  reason  for  that,  for  ^Irs.  Blew- 
ett has  a  genius  for  expressing  in  a  pic- 
turesque way  the  very  sentiments  that 
wholesome  people  like  to  hear  expressed, 


ABOUT    NEW    BOOKS 


301 


of  playing  in  a  delicate  way  upon  the 
very  emotions  that  unvarnished  people 
like  to  have  played  upon,  and  with  a 
confiding,  yet  artistic  aptitude,  of  draw- 
ing inspiration  from  the  well-springs  of 
a  common  human  sympathy.  It  means 
a  great  deal  to  he  able  to  do  that,  and  no 
writer  who  values  endurance  can  afford 
to  ignore  it.  It  is  gratifying  to  read  a 
verse  in  which  there  is  no  philosophic 
problem  to  solve,  no  unseen  motive,  no 
harsh,  mean  treatment,  nothing,  in  fact, 
to  jar  the  sweet-minded.  Such  is  the 
work  of  Jean  Blewett,  and  as  such  will 
her  work  find  an  abiding  place  in  the 
affections  of  her  readers. 

Note  Mrs.  Blewett's  poetic  touch  in 
this  extract  from  "The  Highland  Shep- 
herd": 

"O  the  hills  of  purple  heather, 

And  the  skies  so  warm  and  gray! 
O  the  shimmer  of  the  sea-mist 

In  the  sea-wind  far  away ! 
O  the  calling  of  the  torrent 

Sweeping  down  Ben  Vorlick's  side. 
And  my  white  flocks  faring  foldward 

In  the  hush  of  eventide!" 

n 

DELIGHTFUL  VERSE 

RARELY  has  so  delightful  a  volume 
of  poems  been  sent  out  from  a  Ca- 
nadian publishing  house  and  by  a  Cana- 
dian author  than  "Songs  and  Sonnets," 
the  work  of  Miss  Helena  Coleman 
(Toronto:  William  Briggs).  Apart  alto- 
gether from  the  true  rhythmic  beauty 
of  the  verse  and  the  embodiment  of 
lofty  conceptions,  the  letter  press  and 
cover  design  make  of  the  book  a  pleas- 
ing, artistic  production.  There  are  in 
all  aV>out  one  hundred  songs  and  son- 
nets, and  they  have  in  them  the  ring  of 
genuineness.  Many  persons,  having  read 
from  time  to  time  some  of  this  author's 
verses,  vn-itten  under  a  nom  de  plume, 
had  wondered  who  the  writer  was,  and 
it  will  be  gratifying  for  them  to  know 
that  so  valuable  a  collection  is  now 
available  in  book  form.  Miss  Coleman 
has  the  rare  accomplishment  of  rich, 
magnetic  expression,  while  her  technique 
is  admirable.  Her  style  is  not  unhke  that 
of  Clinton   Scollard,  and  that  is  saving 


a   good   deal.     Here  is  an   extract  from 
"Indian  Summer": 

We  linger  by  the  crimson  vine, 

Steeped  to  the  heart  with  fragrant  wine, 

And  where  the  rowan-berries  shine, 

And  gentians  lift  their  blue; 
We  stay  to  hear  the  wind  that  grieves 
Among  the  oak's  crisp,  russet  leaves; 
And  watch  the  moving  light  that  weaves 

Quaint  patterns,  peering  through. 

THE  KELT  IN  POETRY 

TT  is  gratifying  to  see  that  the  verse 
-*■  of  John  Daniel  Logan,  which  is  well 
known  to  the  magazines,  has  been  col- 
lected and  published  in  a  neat  volume 
by  William  Briggs,  Toronto,  under  the 
title  "Preludes:  Sonnets  and  Other  Ver- 
ses," with  an  epistle  in  criticism  and  an 
essay  entitled  "The  Rhythmical  Dummy: 
■  A  Recipe  for  Verse-Makers."  The  vol- 
ume is  not  pretentious,  but  the  thoughts 
contained  therein  are  clothed  in  chaste 
English,  and  there  is  evidence  of  a  care- 
ful study  of  technique.  The  "Fpistle 
in  Criticism"  is  addressed  to  Peter  Mac- 
Laren  ^VlacDonald,  and  is,  we  should 
sa}',  an  expression  of  admiration  for  the 
true  poetic  fire  possessed  by  the  Keltic 
race,  and  as  well  an  appreciative  ex- 
planation of  the  failure  of  the  Canadian 
Kelt  in  poetry. 

Dr.  Logan  is  a  native  of  Pictou  County, 
Nova  Scotia,  a  young  man  yet,  but  one 
of  considerable  attainment.  He  is  a 
Ph.D.  of  H;irvard,  and  a  cultured  gentle- 
man of  letters.  Of  his  poetic  instinct 
the  following  sonnet,  "The  Solitary," 
will  speak: 

I  lie  where  oft  your  rare  swart  tresses  lay 
And  oft  your  sweet  voice  called  me  in  the 

night, 
But  all  the  slow,  blank  hours  in  their  flight 
Do  mock  me  as  I  call  and  vainly  pray 
That  your  fond,  vivid  vision  long  may  stay 
In  my  dear  dreams,  and  with  dawning  light 
Bfing  realer  dreams  of  days  'mongst-  vales 

bedight 
With  flowers  of  Joy  when  we  the  winding  way 
Of  Love  trod  carelessly.     Dear  Heart,  alas! 
The  lone,  long,  lingering  trail  of  life  must  I 
Forever  unaccompanied  take  and  pass 
Forever  disinherited  by  Hate? 
O  hear  me,  Heart  of  mine,  O  hear  my  cry: 
"Still  do  I  love  thee,  still  do  I  love  and  wait." 


302 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


MR.  R.  L.  RICHARDSON 

WTiose  latest  novel  "The  Camerons  of  Bruce' 
issued  by  William  Briggs 


MR.  RICHARDSON'S  NEW  NOVEL 

ANY  book  that  describes  in  an  inter- 
esting, dramatic  way  the  difficulties 
and  hardships  that  were  encountered  by 
our  forefathers  is  worthy  of  much  com- 
mendation. Such  is  the  "Camerons  M)f 
Bruce,"  the  latest  work  of  Mr.  R.  L. 
Richardson  (Toronto:  WiUiam  Briggs). 
The  story  affords  the  author  much  oppor- 
tunity for  first-class  descriptive  work  and 
good  character  drawing.  It  deals  with 
the  adventures  of  Lachlan  Cameron,  a 
youth  of  twenty-one,  who  sets  out  from 


Bruce'  County  to  avenge 
the  disinheritance  of  his 
lamented  father  by  an 
imcle  who  lives  among  the 
Indians  along  the  Sas- 
katchewan river.  The 
incidents  of  this  adventure 
are  numerous  and  fuU  of 
action.  One  cunnot  help 
wondering  how  so  busy  a 
man  as  Mr.  Richardson 
could  find  time  to  cultivate 
his  taste  for  fiction.  Few 
journahsts  in  Canada  are 
more  widely  known  than 
he  is,  and  his  latest 
romance  will  therefore  be 
read  by  many  with  much 
interest. 

A  POLITICAL  STORY 

TN"  Cupid  and  the  Can 
A  didate"  (Toronto: 
WiUiam  Briggs) ,  Mrs. 
Carr  has  produced  a 
poUtical  story  of  good 
action,  originality  and 
interest.  It  is  by  no 
means  a  pretentious  vol- 
ume, but  it  is  written  with 
a  light,  facile  hand,  and 
should  have  a  place  with 
"the  clever  things." 
There  is  in  it  a  generous 
amount  of  wholesome 
humour,  and  it  is  perhaps 
as  a  humorist  that  Mrs. 
Carr  most  excels.  All  who 
read  "Cupid  and  the 
Candidate"  will  welcome 
another  book  by  the  same  author.  The 
dedication  is  to  Mr.  James  J.  Hill. 

A  BOOK  FOR  NATURE  LOVERS 

"CTUDIES  of  Plant  Life  in  Canada" 
^  (Toronto:  William  Briggs)  is  a 
new  and  revised  edition  of  a  volume  is- 
sued by  Mrs.  Traill  under  the  same  title 
some  years  ago,  and  which  is  so  well 
known  to  those  who  have  been  interested 
in  Canadian  wild  flowers  that  but  little 
need  be  said  of  it  here.     This  new  edition 


has  just  been 


ABOUT   NEW   BOOKS 


SOS 


is  isbued  in  an  attractive  form,  and  besides 
eight  reproductions  in  colours,  there  are 
twelve  half-tone  engravings  from  special 
drawings  by  Mrs.  Agnes  D.  Chamberlin. 
It  is  dedicated  to  the  Countess  of  Grey, 
and  its  object  is  perhaps  best  set  forth  by 
the  author,  who  says  in  the  preface:  "It 
is  not  a  book  for  the  learned.  The  aim 
of  the  writer  is  bimply  to  show  the  real 
pleasure  that  may  be  obtained  from  a 
habit  of  observing  what  is  offered  to  the 

eye    of    the    traveller Even    to 

know  the  common  name  of  a  flower  or 
fern  is  something  added  to  our  stock  of 
knowledge,  and  inclines  us  to  wish  to 
know  something  beyond  the  mere  name." 

IMPERIAL  VERSE 

"  A  HYMN  of  Empire  and  Other 
-^  Poems"  (Toronto:  William  Rriggs), 
by  Frederick  George  Scott,  is  a  daintily- 
bound  volume  containing  more  than 
thirty  poems  by  this  Quebec  writer. 
The  initial  poem  is  an  expression  in 
dignified  verse  of  the  true  Imperial 
sentiment,  which  is  filled  not  only  with 
pride,  but  with  a  sense  of  responsibiHty. 
The  poems  on  nature  are  appreciative  of 
the  peculiar  ruggedness  of  Quebec  scenery, 
as  well  as  of  the  summer  aspects  as 
shown  in  the  glancing  rivulet.  We  have 
not  often  seen  the  quatrain  in  Canadian 
poetry,  and  this  selection  "By  the  Sea," 
is  such  as  to  make  us  wish  for  more  ex- 
amples: 

"Ever  the  strong,  salt  life,  ever  the  dream, 
Ever  the  pulsing  force,  the  mystery 
Of  tireless  Nature  working  'neath  the  stars, 
Her  destiny  apart  from  human  things." 


A  BOOK  FOR   BUSINESS   MEN 

"T^HE  Making  of  a  Merchant"  is  an 
■*■  excellent  book,  particularly  for 
young  men  starting  out  on  a  business 
career.  The  author,  Harlow  N.  Higin- 
botham,  was  a  partner  of  the  late  Marshall 
Field.  He  is  also  a  well-known  financier 
and  President  of  the  World's  Colimibian 
Exposition.  He  should  therefore  be  re- 
garded as  an  authority  in  the  business 
world.  Indeed,  his  career  has  long  been 
watched  by  merchants  all  over  the  coun- 
try, and  he  is  generally  pointed  out  in  the 


mercantile  world  as  one  of  the  outstand- 
ing successes  of  the  last  quarter-century. 
Undoubtedly  his  book  will  have  a  large 
sale.  It  is  published  by  Forbes  and  Corn- 
pan  v,  Chicago. 

u 

NOTES 

It  is  gratifying  to  note  that  Bliss  Carman 
has  had  pubhshed  (Toronto:  The  Copp, 
Clark  Company)  a  comprehensive  vol- 
ume of  his  best  poems,  under  the  title 
"Pipes  of  Pan."  The  book  is  of  generous 
bulk,  and  contains  five  v/orks  that  were 
issued  separately  last  year  under  distinc- 
tive titles,  as  follows-  "From  the  Book 
of  Myths,"  "From  the  Green  Book  of  the 
Bards,"  "Songs  of  the  Sea  Children," 
"Songs  from  a  Northern  Garden,"  and 
"From  the  Book  of  Valentines."  Bliss 
Carman  is  regarded  as  one  of  the  first 
poets  of  the  day,  and  no  Canadian  should 
be  unacquainted  with  his  rare  style  of 
expression. 

Housekeepers,  that  is,  real  housekeep- 
ers, and  all  who  contemplate  building, 
occupying  or  furnishing  a  house,  or,  in- 
deed, all  who  live  in  at  least  fair  circum- 
stances, should  make  acquaintance  with 
"The  Complete  Home,"  by  Clara  E. 
Laughlin  (New  York:  D.  Appleton  and 
Company).  It  is  safe  to  say  that  wher- 
ever this  book  is  read  its  influence  will  be 
very  marked,  and  further,  that  if  its  con- 
tents were  generally  known  there  would 
be  in  household  arrangement  fewer  in- 
congruities to  shock  artistic  sensibilities 
and  more  recognition  of  the  fitness  of 
things.  The  volume  is  so  comprehensive 
that  it  is  impossible  to  cover  its  scope  in  a 
brief  review.  There  are  fourteen  chap- 
teis  and  nearly  a  score  of  full-  page  illus- 
trations. It  treats  of  almost  everything 
encountered  in  a  modem  household,  from 
the  extermination  of  vermin  to  the  choos- 
ing of  antique  furniture  or  decorations. 

The  "History  of  the  Royal  North-West 
Mounted  Police,"  by  Captain  Ernest  J. 
Chambers  (Black  Rod),  has  just  been 
issued,  and  is  an  exceedingly  interesting 
and  important  addition  to  contemporary 
historical  literature.  It  is  perhaps  the  only 
authentic  history  of  this  famous  corps,  and 
it  is  therefore  exceedingly  valuable  as  a  sou- 
venir.    It  is  printed  on  superior  coated 


304 


THE   CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


paper,  handsomely  bound,  and  contains 
a  profusion  of  excellent  half-tone  illus- 
trations. Although  the  name  is  not  given, 
it  is  understood  that  the  publisb.ers  are 
McPhee  Brothers  and  Bayley,  an  enter- 
prising Montreal  concern. 

A  new  volume  of  John  Imirie's  poems 
has  just  been  issued  (Toronto:  The  Imrie 
Printing  Co.).  This  makes  the  fifth  edi- 
tion, which  puts  the  output  up  to  7,500 
copies.  Mr.  Imrie's  poems  have  long 
been  admired  by  an  increasing  circle  of 
readers,  and  they  are  steadily  gaining  in 
appreciation.  The  new  volume  is  at- 
tractively bound  in  gilt  cloth,  with  gilt 
decorations. 

Ginn  and  Compan>,  Boston,  have  pub- 
lished a  neat  little  volume  entitled  "The 
Philosophy  of  Goethe's  Faust,''  by  Thomas 
Hamilton,  author  of  "The  Education  of 
the  Wage  Earners,"  etc. 

"Alcostis  and  Other  Poems"  is  the 
title  of  an  attractive  little  volume  by  Sara 
King  Wiley  (The  Macmillan  Company 
of  Canada).  The  book  is  composed 
mostly  of  blank  verse  of  a  classical  order. 

The  ven.'  title  of  "The  Running  Horse 
Inn "  bespeaks  a  story  chock  full  of 
romance  and  chivalry.  It  is  a  novel  of 
the  Colonial  Library  series,  and  written 
in  a  clever  way  by  Alfred  Tresidder 
Sheppard  (Toronto:  The  Macmillan 
Company  of  Canada).  All  who  enjoy  real 
stirring  scenes,  full  of  action  and  not  too 
much  tragedy,  will  take  readily  to  this 
book.  The  story  deals  with  exciting  in- 
cidents rendered  possible  by  the  Napo- 
leonic wars  which  were  then  agitating 
Europe.  The  author  has  handled  his  op 
portunity  well,  and  produced  a  novel  of 
popular  interest. 

"Hope:  My  Wife  "  is  a  story  by  L.  G. 
Moberley  (Toronto:  The  Copp,  Clark 
Company),  dealing  with  the  problem  of 
an  early  unhappy  marriage,  a  separation, 
and  a  reunion  after  some  years,  the  hus- 
band proposing  to  his  own  wife,  whom 
he  had  failed  to  recognise. 

"Highways  and  Byways  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi Valley,"  bv  Clifton  Johnson  (The 
Macmillan  Company  of  Canada),  is  a 
splendid  account  of  travel,  incident  and 
folk-lore  along  the  most  majestic  and 
interesting  rivers  on  the  North  American 
continent.     It    is    verv   evident   that   the 


author  was  heart  and  soul  in  his  work, 
and  what  adds  greatly  to  the  value  and 
attractiveness  of  the  volume  is  a  list  of 
more  than  si.xty  illustrations  from  actual 
photographs  taken  by  the  author.  It 
is  usually  the  case  that  persons  who 
write  entertainingly  and  instructively 
about  places  of  general  interest  fail  to 
])rovide  backing  for  their  work  in  the 
form  of  convincing  illustrations.  In  this 
particular  case  there  is  an  apt  combina- 
tion of  author  and  artist. 

The  thirty-eighth  volume  of  "The 
Studio"  (44  Leicester  Square,  London,) 
is  one  of  the  most  sumptuous  publica- 
tions that  comes  to  the  reviewer  during 
a  whole  twelvemonth.  To  give  an  idea 
of  its  immensity,  not  to  speak  of  its 
artistic  merits,  it  is  only  necessar\'  to 
say  that  it  contains  more  than  six  hun- 
dred illustrations  of  the  best  art  of  the 
day  and  of  the  highest  attainment  in 
reproductive  skill.  ^Many  of  the  full- 
page  illustrations  are  in  several  colours, 
producing  exceptionally  pleasing  results. 
Scarcely  anyone  is  able  to  keep  in  touch 
with  the  advance  of  art  who  is  not 
acquainted  with  this  work. 

"The  Studio"  for  November  con- 
tains 145  illustrations.  The  feature  is 
a  number  of  reproductions  from  Alex- 
ander Young's  collection  of  C.  F.  Dau- 
bigny's  work. 

Perhaps  no  country  in  the  world  just 
now  is  so  attractive  for  a  study  ground 
as  Persia,  and  on  that  account  "Persia, 
Past  and  Present,"  by  A.  V.  W.  Jackson, 
a  Columbia  University  professor  (To- 
ronto: The  IVIacmillan  Company  of 
Canada),  is  a  most  acceptable  and  very 
timely  production.  Prof.  Jackson  is  not 
only  an  observing,  painstaking  traveller,, 
but  he  is  also  an  accomplished  writer. 
The  work,  therefore,  is  the  result  of  rare 
perceptive  faculties,  following  a  first- 
hand study  of  the  subject,  and  a  clear 
conception  of  how  the  best  material 
should  be  placed  before  the  reader.  The 
book  is  rendered  exceedingly  valuable 
by  about  two  hundred  illustrations,  mostly 
reproduced  from  photographs  taken  by 
the  autlior  himself. 

"The  Old  Testament  in  Ait,"  edited 
by  W.  Shaw  Sparrow  (Toronto:  The 
Copp,  Clark  Company),  is  an  extremely 


ABOUT   NEW   BOOKS 


305 


valuable  and  instructive  volume,  com- 
prising, as  it  does,  reproductions  of  the 
best  works  of  the  best  painters  of  relig 
ious  subjects  from  the  Renaissance  down 
to  the  most  modem  schools.  The  vol- 
ume is  of  generous  pro])oriions,  and 
there  are  about  two  hundred  pages,  most 
of  which  contain  full-page  reproductions 
of  famou-  paintings.  Many  of  the  photo- 
gravures are  of  exceptionally  fine  qual- 
ity. Some  of  the  painters  whose  v^orks 
are  reproduced  in  an  illuminative  way 
are  Michelangelo,  Raphael,  Watts,  Rem- 
brandt, Dyce,  Burnejones,  Bonguereau, 
Holman  Hunt  and  Corot.  The  inter 
pretations  are  by  such  capable  critics  as 
Leonce  Benedita,  Keeper  of  the  Luxem- 
bourg, Paris,  and  Rev.  R.  J.  Campbell, 
London. 

The  interest  that  human  nature  takes 
in  such  occurrences  as  the  escape  of  a 
nun  from  a  convent  is  showai  by  the  dis- 
cussion that  has  been  aroused  in  some 
circles  in  England  .over  Joseph  Hock- 
ing's latest  novel  "The  Woman  of  Baby- 
lon" (Toronto:  The  Copp,  Clark  Com- 
pany). The  story  centres  around  the 
results  that  follow  an  adoption  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  faith  by  the  mother  of 
the  heroine  of  the  tale,  an  entrancing 
young  woman,  who  is  induced  by  a  chain 
of  circ;imstances  to  enter  a  convent, 
where  she  languishes  while  her  parents 
and  lo\er  search  for  her,  almost  in  vain. 
The  lover  finally  discovers  and  she  is 
released.  The  conditions  and  restric- 
tions of  convent  life  afford  a  diflScult 
subject,  and  many  may  therefore  ques- 
tion the  soundness  of  some  of  the  inci- 
dents. 

Eugene  Field's  well-known  "Poems 
of  Childhood"  would  be  dainty  morsels 
for  old  or  young,  even  if  presented  on 
brown  wrapping  paper,  but  they  are 
published  in  a  magnificent  volume  by 
Charles  Scribner's  Sons,  New  York,  with 
illustrations  by  the  clever  artist,  Maxfield 
Parrish,  and  form  one  of  the  best  holi- 
day productions  of  the  season.  The 
volume  starts  off  with  "With  Trumpet 
and  Drum,"  and  ends  with  "Over  the 
Hills  and  Far  Away." 

The  wonder  is  that  Stanley  WejTiian 
can  produce  so  many  books  and  yet 
maintain  the  snap  and  go  that  has  made 


his  name  famous.  His  latest  is  "Chip- 
pinge  Borough"  (Toronto:  The  Mac- 
millan  Company  of  Canada),  a  tale  of 
the  stirring  times  in  England  during  the 
period  of  the  Reform  bill.  Lovers  of 
exciting  romance  and  adventure  will 
find  this  novel  well  up  to  Mr.  Weyman's 
high  standard. 

One  of  the  most  acceptable  stories  of 
the  holiday  season  for  boys  is  "Brier- 
Patch  Philosophy,"  by  "Peter  Rabbit" 
(Toronto:  The  Copp,  Clark  Company). 
It  is  the  work  of  William  J.  Long,  who 
has  won  a  great  reputation  as  a  wTiter 
of  this  entertaining  class  of  literature. 
While  the  book  is  interesting  from  a 
purely  fanciful  standpoint,  it  contains 
many  philosophical  passages,  the  opin- 
ions of  Brier-Rabbit,  while  quaint  and 
original,  having,  nevertheless,  a  tinge  of 
wisdom  well  put. 

Rev.  J.  D.  Freeman's  "Life  on  the 
Uplands,"  a  study  of  the  Twenty-third 
Psalm  from  a  new  point  of  view,  has 
met  with  success  rare  among  books  of 
its  class.  The  publisher  (William  Briggs") 
reports  that  the  demand  for  the  book 
was  so  instant  and  strong  that  in  less 
than  a  week  of  publication  a  second 
edition  had  to  be  put  on  the  press. 

John  Coutts,  author  of  "Man's  Or- 
ganic Constitution,"  etc.,  has  written  a 
new  book  entitled  "The  Divine  Inherit- 
ance as  revealed  in  the  Bible,  Man 
and  Nature."  It  is  published  by  the 
National  Hygienic  Company,  Limited, 
London. 

The  Christmas  number  of  The  Globe 
has  long  been  regarded  as  equal  to  the 
best  European  and  United  States  holi- 
day publications.  That  is  saying  a 
good  deal,  but  it  is  even  more  significant 
when  it  is  supplemented  with  the  state- 
ment that  the  production  this  year  is  in 
advance  of  all  its  predecessors.  One 
of  the  noticeable  things  about  it  is  the 
increasing  attention  that  is  being  given 
to  the  artistic  treatment  of  advertising 
matter,  and  it  is  not  going  too  far  to 
sav  that  some  of  the  advertisements  are 
reall\-  works  of  art.  Advertising  of  a 
high  and  cultured  order  is  rapidly  com- 
ing to  the  front  in  Canada,  and  The 
Glebe  is  to  be  commended  for  its  enter- 
prise in  this  respect. 


A  STEP    IX    THE    MAKING 
LITERATURE 


OF 


THE  unveiling  of  a  monument  to  the 
memory  of  Alexander  McLachlan, 
poet  and  patriot,  at  Orangeville  last 
Thanksgiving  Day  is  one  more  indication 
that,  even  in  Canada,  the  admirers  of 
literary  genius  are  becoming  sufficiently 
energetic  as  to  place  before  the  public 
some  enduring  mark  of  their  appreciation. 
It  was  the  second  of  two  events  of  the 
kind  that  took  place  in  this  country  during 
1906.  The  first  was  the  unveihng  of  a 
monument  to  Cremazie  in  Place  St. 
Louis,  Montreal,  by  the  poet's  French- 
Canadian  compatriots.  Occasions  such 
as  these  t\^o  are  far  more  significant  than 
most  persons  would  think,  for  the  monu- 
ment's should  play  no  small  part  in  the 


making  of  a  Canadian  literature.  Some 
might  wonder  what  a  slab  of  marble  or  a 
cast  of  bronze  could  do  towards  the  mak- 
ing of  literature.  Either  one  might  do 
much.  The  Hterature  of  a  coimtry  need 
not  be  good,  but  it  must  be  enduring. 
Indeed,  it  must  have  already  endured  the 
changing  fancies  of  succeeding  genera- 
tions before  it  can  claim  the  dignity  of  a 
national  hterature.  That  is  why  no  per- 
son is  able  to  say  that  we  have  a  Canadian 
national  hterature.  The  making  of  books 
in  this  country  does  not  go  back  far 
enough  to  justify  any  person  to  say  that 
this  or  that  work  has  stood  or  will  stand 
the  test  of  time.  A  person  might  say  that 
some  particular  writing  \\\\1  Hve,  but  that 
assertion  could  be  at  best  only  a  prophec)'. 
\nd  therefore  the  decision  as  to  whether 


SCENE  AT  UNVEILING  OF  MONUMENT  TO  ALEXANDER  McLACHLAX  AT  ORANGEVILLE 
306 


PEOPLE    AND  AFFAIRS 


307 


or  not  Canada  has  a  national 
literature  must  he  a  prerog- 
ative of  posterity. 

But  by  building  monu- 
ments to  our  writers  we  can 
in  some  measure  affect  the 
exercise  of  that  prerogative 
and  cause  our  opinions  to  stand 
even  after  the  passing  of  many 
generations.  Looking  at  it 
from  that  standpoint,  we  must 
regard  it  as  a  great  and 
serious  privilege,  and  therefore 
the  building  of  monuments 
of  this  kind  should  not  be 
undertaken  in  haste.  When 
posterity  sees  the  monvmients, 
posterity  will  want  to  read 
the  writings,  be  they  good  or 
bad.  One  monument  or  some 
other  enduring  mark  of  ap- 
preciation might  cause  to  live 
the  work  of  an  inferior  mind, 
while  the  rare  touch  of  genius 
might  pass  away  in  the  for- 
getfulness  of  succeeding  gener- 
ations. However,  scarcely  any 
one  would  say  that  an  error 
was  made  in  erecting  a  mon- 
ument to  either  Mcl^achlan 
or'Cremazie.  Still,  there  exists 
the  potency  of  the  thing  for 
either  good  or  evil. 

The  monument  to  McLach- 
lan  was  unveiled  by  the  poet's  daughter, 
Miss  Elizabeth  McLachlan,  and,  as  may 
be  seen  from  the  photograph  (although 
most  of  those  present  are  not  shown),  there 
was  a  good  attendance.  The  money  to  pay 
for  the  cost  of  the  memorial  was  raised 
by  public  subscription.  The  chief  orator 
of  the  occasion  was  Joseph  C.  Clarke, 
B.A.,  Principal  of  Port  Elgin  High  School. 
The  venerable  figure  with  snow-white 
hair,  standing  on  the  platform,  is  that  of 
Dr.  Alexander  Hamilton,  of  Toronto, 
fditor  of  McLachlan's  works.  He  con- 
ducted the  proceedings. 


LAST  OF  THE  ANTI -CONFEDERATES 

CENATOR  W.  ROSS  contributes  the 
^  following:  "In  your  issue  of  April 
you  state  "the  death  of  Hon.  Alfred 
Giltin  Jones  removes  the  last  uf  the  Nova 


SENATOR  W.  ROSS 

Scotia  An ti- Confederates."  This  is  not 
correct.  Jones  was  never  in  the  House  of 
Assembly,  and  there  are  three  of  us  living, 
hale  and  hearty,  who  were  Anti-Confed- 
erates, as  well  as  the  late  Governor  Jones: 
Hon.  W.  H.  Ray,  now  in  the  Legislative 
Council  of  Nova  Scotia;  Samuel  Mac- 
Donnell,  the  Customs  Inspector  in  the 
Island  of  Cape  Breton,  and  the  writer, 
who  is  in  the  Senate  of  the  Dominion. 
Only  fifteen  Liberals  were  returned  in  the 
election  of  1863,  and  we  were  all  elected 
in  1867,  some  of  us  by  acclamation.  Sir 
Charles  Tupper,  then  Dr.  Tapper,  was 
the  only  Confederate  returned  from  Nova 
Scotia,  with  the  bare  majority  of  ^ixteen 
votes.  We  were  by  no  means  opposed  to 
the  union  of  the  provinces,  but  forcing 
this  measure  on  the  electors  without  an 
appeal  to  them,  and  hi  this  we  followed 
Joseph  Howe.    You  also  called  the  late 


308 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


SAMUEL  MacDONNELL     . 

Governor  Jones  "Sir,"  which  he  might 
have  been  entitled  to,  but  he  declined  the 
honour  ofTered  him  by  the  Prince  of  Wales 
during  the  last  visit  of  Royalty  to  Hahfax. 
I  will  be  pleased  if  you  make  these  cor- 
rections." ^ 

THE  BIRTHPLACE  OF  GILBERT 
PARKER 

TN  the  County  of  Lennox,  about  nine 
■*■  miles  from  Napanee  and  nestling 
cosily  between  two  low  hills,  lies  the  vil- 
lage of  Camden  East,  the  birthplace  of 
one  of  Canada's  most  brilliant  sons,  Sir 
Gilbert  Parker. 

Standing  on  one  of  the  hills  vou  can 
look  down  on  the  peaceful  little  village, 
lying  on  either  bank  of  a  most  beautiful 
bit  of  river  and  creeping  partial1\-  up  the 
opposite  hill. 

"One  of  those  little  places  that  have  run 
Half  way  up  the  hill,  beneath  the  blazing 

sun, 
And  then  sat  down  to  rest  as  if  to  say, 
I'll  climb  no  further  upward,  come  what 

may." 

The  AngHcan  church,  situated  at  the  top 
of  the  higher  of  the  two  hills,  is  the  most 
pretentious   structure    and    occupies    the 


most  prominent  position  in  the  village, 
standing  like  a  sentinel  among  the  moss- 
grown  marble  slabs  that  mark  the  resting 
places  of  those  asleep  in  the  quiet  hill-side 
churchyard. 

At  the  foot  of  the  hill  the  river  ghdes 
smoothly,  C[uietly  and  lazily  in  and  out 
among  the  shadows  and  nooks  of  its 
thickly  foliaged  banks,  turning  here  and 
there  to  ahnost  lap  the  doorstep  of  some 
tiny  home,  or,  flowing  aoftly  over  the  flat 
limestone  rocks,  makes  natural  laundries 
or  ideal  bathing  places  for  the  \illage 
children. 

Excepting  where  the  old  dam,  rotten 
with  age,  allows  the  water  it  pretends  to 
bold  back  to  slip  over  its  broken  edges  in 
little  cascades  of  frothy  olive-green  and 
yellow-white  foam,  the  river  glides  noise- 
lessly and  with  scarcely  a  ripple  to  disturb 
its  mirror-like  surface — typical  in  its 
serenity  of  the  village  and  its  inhabitants. 

At  the  foot  of  the  hill,  just  below  the 
church,  the  river  is  spanned  by  a  pictur- 
esque bridge  from  which,  looking  either 
up  or  down  the  stream,  beautiful  bits  of 
scenery  delight  the  artistic  eye. 

But  a  few  feet  from  this  bridge  and  al- 
most in  the  shadow  of  the  church,  stands 


HON.  W.  H.   RAY 
Member  Legislative  Council  of  Nova  Scotia 


I 


PEOPLE   AND   AFFAIRS 


309 


the  house  in  which  Gil- 
bert Parker  was  born.  It 
is  a  low,  two-story  frame 
building  and,  like  the  best 
of  the  village  homes,  is 
most  unassuming  iii  its  ap- 
pearance. It  stands  facing 
the  one  and  only  street  of 
which  the  village  boasts 
and  may  be  said  to  be  "in 
the  business  centre,"  for  al- 
jnost  opposite  it  is  the 
general  store  and  post 
ofl5ce,  wherein  one  ma\- 
post  his  letters,  purchase 
his  dry  goods,  groceries  or 
hardware,  and  where  the 
thrifty  house-wives,  owners 
of  a  cow  or  poultry,  may 
.sell  their  surplus  of  butter  or  eggs,  or  ex- 
change them  for  other  household  neces- 
sities. 

Time  passes  liglitly  over  the  village, 
and  changes  take  place  slowly,  and  ever\'- 
thing  in  the  place  is  practically  just  as  it 
was  when  Gilbert  Parker,  as  he  is  un- 
ceremoniously called  there,  with  other 
lads  of  his  age,  obeyed  the  summons  of 
the  school  bell,  and,  books  in  hand,  ran 
up  the  tiny  street  The  same  houses  that 
then  stood  there  are  there  now,  unchanged, 
and  owned  by  the  people  who  then  owned 
them  or  by  their  sons  and  daughters. 
Even  the  furnishing  of  some  of  these 
homes  have  not  been  altered  a  jot. 

The  blacksmith's  shop  on  the  river's 
bank  is  the  same  as  when 
little  Gilbert  paused  on  his 
way  to  watch  the  glowing 
furnace  or  the  shoeing  of 
a  neighbour's  horse,  and  the 
present  owner  of  the  shop  is 
a  son  of  the  blacksmith  Gil- 
bert knew  then,  and  the  dear 
old  lady  who  in  those  days 
displaved  in  her  window 
sundry  glass  jars  containing 
curly  sugar  sticks  and  striped 
red  and  white  peppermint 
bull's  eyes,  still  caters  to 
youthful  appetites. 

In  fact,  life  in  that  village 
goes  on  with  such  unchange- 
ableness,  serenity  and  sim- 
plicity,   that    one    would 


4lJS 


BIRTHPLACE  OF  GItBERT  PARKER 

imagine  the  change  and  haste,  and  the 
passions  and  worries  of  Ufe  had  failed  to 
lind  out  the  sheltered  nook  wherein  the 
village  lies,  or  else,  having  found  it,  were 
ashamed  to  intrude. 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne  had  a  remarkable 
appreciation  of  serenity  and  quietude  of 
this  kind.  A  sequestered  hamlet  must 
have  been  to  him  "a  thing  of  beauty  and 
a  joy  forever."  Those  who  dwell  in  these 
dehghtful  spots  scarcely  rise  to  the  occasion 
of  their  own  importance,  when  it  is  dis- 
covered that  they  have  given  birth  of 
some  genius,  or  thit  some  genius  has  given 
birth  to  them.  But  that  is  the  way 
of  life. 

The  Editor 


STREET 


SCENE  IN  CAMDEN  EAST,  WHERE  GILBERT 
PARKER  WAS  BORN 


IDLE      MOMENTS 


HOW  WE  BUILT  THE  CHURCH 

FOR  the  last  twelve  months  I  have 
been  occupying  the  position  of  chief 
clerk  and  floor-walker  in  a  small  \illage 
store,  situated  a  few  miles  down  the  lake 
road.  Here  we  handle  everything  from 
a  bottle  of  cough  mixture  to  a  post-mortem 
certificate.  As  a  rule  the  certificate  fol- 
lows a  dose  of  the  mixture. 

One  day  a  customer  from  a  farm  down 
on  the  second  concession  came  in  and 
asked  for  half  a  sheet  of  fly  paper  and  three 
cents'  worth  of  toothache  gum.  She 
then  wanted  to  know  if  we  gave  trading 
stamps.  Two  days  later  a  man  bought  a 
couple  of  washtubs.  He  had  heard  that 
the  town  council  were  going  to  do  away 
•with  the  saloon  and  he  wanted  to  put  in  a 
supply  against  a  calamity  like  that. 

I  had  always  been  accustomed  to  think 
of  pay-day  as  a  time  for  rejoicing.  But  it 
is  such  a  long  time  since  the  pay-car  has 
switched  off  on  my  siding  that  I  am  begin- 
ning to  show  signals  of  distress.  My 
wash  has  been  accumulating  at  the  laimdry 
for  the  past  two  months,  and  I  am  now 
reduced  to  the  last  shirt.  Last  week  I 
went  up  to  the  "Chinks"  to  beg  a  clean 
shirt  for  Sunday,  but  was  warded  off  wuth 
"no  monee,  no  shirtee."  I  am  in  such 
straitened  circumstances  that  I  have  been 
compelled  to  forego  the  pleasure  of  attend- 
ing church  servace.  I  used  to  enjoy  the 
singing  and  the  glowing  descriptions  the 
preacher  gave  about  the  lake  of  fiery 
brimstone — he  could  make  it  so  realistic 
that  your  tongue  would  become  dr\' 
listening  to  it.  He  had  the  same  power 
when  describing  a  sea  voyage.  He  would 
310 


paint  on  your  imagination  the  waves  and 
storm-tossed  vessel  so  vividly  as  to  almost 
make  you  sea-sick.  Once  a  man  sitting 
next  me  had  to  get  up  and  make  a  run  for 
the  door.  When  a  fellow  is  "broke,"  the 
most  embarrassing  part  of  church  service 
is  when  the  deacons  start  taking  toll 
with  the  tinw^are.  They  seem  to  hold  the 
plate  in  front  of  you  with  so  meek  an  ex- 
pression on  their  countenances  that  you 
are  reminded  of  a  patient  stepping  into 
the  dentist's  chair.  Five  cents  is  a  small 
enough  amount  to  put  on  a  collection 
plate,  but  some  people  when  they  get  a  bad 
coin  passed  off  on  them  during  the  week 
save  it  for  the  offering  on  Simday,  and 
then  pray  that  the  heathen  in  far-away 
lands  may  be  taught  to  see  the  error  of  their 
ways. 

At  one  time  the  humblest  building  in 
this  part  of  the  countr\'  w'as  the  Methodist 
church.  .\nd  the  manse  adjoining  had 
such  a  cheerless,  sun-baked  appearance, 
that  even  the  wandering  hoboes  never 
considered  it  as  being  a  place  for  a  likely 
hand-out,  and  so  .side-tracked  it  complete- 
ly. When  the  minister  first  vmdertook 
the  task  of  supphing  spiritual  manna  to 
the  flock  in  this  community,  he  hadn't 
enough  of  the  national  currency  to  pay 
bus  fare  from  the  station  to  his  new  place 
of  abode,  which  was  not  his  fault.  Accord- 
ingly, he  did  the  next  best  thing — walked 
the  four  miles  with  a  baby  on  one  arm 
and  his  safe's  hatbox  on  the  other. 

Within  the  last  year  all  this  has  changed. 
The  little  wooden  meeting-house  has  been 
supplanted  by  an  expensive,  pressed  brick 
edifice.  In  the  old  building  the  preacher's 
table  stood  on  a  level  %nth  the  seats.     Now 


f 

I 


IDLE    MOMENTS 


311 


1 


the  pulpit  is  elevated  half  way  to  the  ceil- 
ing. On  the  -wall,  directly  above  the 
minister's  head,  is  the  text:  "He  is 
risen." 

The  manse,  also,  has  undergone  a 
transformation,  but  it  is  still  avoided  as 
much  as  ever  by  the  tramps,  for  a  bull 
dog  is  now  chained  near  the  gate  wi'.'i  a 
well-practiced  habit  of  sinking  hi.s  teetn 
into  the  tasty  shanks  found  beneath  the 
trouser  legs  of  the  ragged  gentry. 

The  church  choir  has  likewise  'S,aught 
on."  On  Sunday  all  the  latest  "Parisian" 
millinery  styles  are  displayed,  while  seal- 
skin jackets  and  mink  caperines  suggest 
a  run  on  the  bank  account  of  some  out- 
raged papa  or  protesting  but  helpless 
husband. 

This  sudden  rise  from  an  obscure  gather- 
ing of  the  faithful  to  an  up-to-date  con- 
gregation is  easily  accounted  for.  The 
new  minister  soon  after  his  arrival  called 
a  meeting  of  the  church  dignitaries  and 
their  wives.  A  series  of  boldly  planned 
"schemes"  were  suggested  and  after- 
wards successfully  carried  out. 

The  first  event  was  a  misnamed 
"strawberry  and  angel  cake  social." 
After  paying  for  admission  an  additional 
ten  cents  was  charged  for  checking  wraps 
and  headwear.  A  few  steps  farther  along 
I  was  encountered  by  a  well-groomed  indi- 
vidual who  tried  to  sell  me  a  small  book  of 
poems  written  by  a  local  poet.  I  was 
told  that  the  writer  had  lately  been  com- 
mitted to  an  asylvun,  and  that  the  sale  of 
his  poetical  works  w^as  to  defray  the  ex- 
pense of  getting  the  interior  of  his  cell 
padded.  \\Tien  I  had  bought  the  poems 
I  concluded  that  the  fellow's  brain  cells 
were  padded  enough  already.  At  this 
time  the  orchestra,  consisting  of  two 
violins  and  a  snare  drum,  were  going 
through  the  motions  of  playing  "William 
Tell,"  with  variations.  While  they  were 
waiting  for  applause,  the  minister  got  up 
to  say  how  glad  he  was  to  see  so  many 
people  enio3ang  themselves.  He  then 
asked  a  blessing  for  the  success  of  the 
venture,  and  the  conflict  was  on. 

The  thing  was  a  failure  from  the  start. 
Instead  of  compl}ang  vnih  the  specified 
bill  of  fare,  the  strawberry  crop  haAnng 
failed,  they  served  around  gooseberry  jam 
and  egg  muffins.     A  young  lady  was  on 


the  programme  to  sing  a  .solo,  but  by  a 
merciful  act  of  Providence  she  was  unable 
to  fulfill  her  engagement,  having  spilled  a 
cup  of  coffee  down  the  front  of  her  dress, 
which  had  been  white.  A  talented  young 
artist  from  Hamilton  was  to  have  given  a 
selection  on  the  mouth-organ,  but  he 
received  a  severe  cut  on  the  lip  from  a 
table  knife  while  trying  to  eat  a  piece  of 
muffin.  These  two  sudden  but  well- 
limed  reverses  put  an  end  to  the  musical 
part  of  the  programme.  A  special  col- 
lection was  then  taken  for  the  famine  fimd. 
Some  thought  the  riot  act  would  be  read, 
and  the  peaceably  inclined  departed  for 
their  homes. 

The  next  affair  was  a  bazaar,  which 
proved  a  great  success  as  a  money-getter. 
This  was  followed  by  a  series  of  concerts, 
socials,  house  solicitations  and  special 
e.Khortations  from  the  pulpit.  When  a 
monied  member  was  known  to  be  dying, 
the  minister  would  swoop  dow^n  upon  the 
unfortunate,  and  impress  upon  his  fast 
fading  memory-  that  one  more  generous 
donation  to  the  church  fund  would  act  as 
oil  for  the  beacon  to  fight  his  passage 
across  the  dark  sea.  On  the  other  hand, 
when  the  departing  one  had  no  worldly 
wealth  to  dispose  of  the  minister  would 
say:  ''Well,  John,  we  are  all  sorry  to  see 
you  going.  You  are  passing  out  of 
darkness  into  everlasting  fight."  In  this 
case,  it  seems,  there  were  no  beacons  to  be 
kept  suppfied  with  oil,  which  implied 
that  the  path  he  was  taking  would  be  well 
lighted  by  the  fires  which  seem  to  allure 
so  many  dow^n  that  way. 

So  in  a  short  time  enough  money  was 
raised  and  the  church  was  erected.  The 
congregation  is  described  as  being  go-a- 
head and  progressive,  w^hile  the  minister 
Is  looked  upon  as  the  right  man  for  the 
position.     So  he  is. 

Walter  Mills 
Ul 

ALPHONSE  AND  GASTON  OUTDONE 

TT  was  "befo'  de  wah"  in  old  Virginia,  and 
■*■  young  "Marse"  Martin  had  just  re- 
turned from  the  University.  Upon  his 
arrival  he  was  told  that  "Unc'  Patrick" 
and  Aunt  SaUie  had  plighted  their  troth, 
and  wished  to  be  married  with  becoming 
pomp    and    ceremony.     The    snows    of 


312 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


LIGHT  ROSES 


DARK  ROSES 

eighty  winters  had  silvered  Uncle  Patrick's 
woolly  locks,  and  Aunt  Sail}'  was  past 
threescore  and  ten.  So  "Marse"  Martin 
thought  the  occasion  might  be  humorously 
elaborated.  He  bestowed  upon  Uncle  Pat- 
rick a  discarded  swallow-tail  and  got  his 
sisters  to  bedeck  Aunt  Sally  out  with 
gorgeous  bridal  array.  Wien  the  mo- 
mentous evening  arrived  Aunt  Sally's 
wrinkled  cheeks  were  veiled  in  white 
mosquito  netting,  and  her  toothless  mouth 
smiled  expansively.     After  the  ceremony 


"Marse"  Martin 
turned  to  the  bride- 
groom and  said. 

"Unc'  Patrick, 
aren't  you  going  to 
salute  the  bride?" 

Unc' Patrick  bowed 
with  ChesterfieJdian 
grace,  as  he  replied: 
''Arfter  you,  Marse 
Martin,  arfter  you, 
Soh!"         J.M.B. 

X3 

A  LITTLE 

TWISTED 

A  GERMAN  re.si- 
dent  of  a  West- 
em  Ontario  town  has 
gained  a  local  repu- 
tation as  a  fun-maker, 
owing  to  his  fond- 
ness for  figures  of 
speech,  which  in  Eng- 
lish he  often  sadly 
distorts.  Once  he 
heard  a  man  refuse 
to  do  something  be- 
cause he  had  "other 
fish  to  fry."  When 
an  opportunity  to  use 
this  expression  arose, 
the  German  said: 
"I  can't  do  dot  ting. 
I  ha  f  to  go  home  and 
vry  some  vish." 
Again  when  he  had 
a  "crow  to  pick" 
with  an  acquaint- 
ance, he  remarked: 
"I  haf  to  rub  a 
schickens  mit  vou." 


X3 

THE  SNAIL  AND  THE  RACE-HORSE 

p\0  not  revile  the  patient  snail 

Because  he  crawls  so  very  slowly. 
As  a  race-horse  he  would  fail 

Without  doubt,  this  creature  lowly. 

But  think  of  this,  and  answer  true: 
Would  the  race-horse  on  the  track 

Than  the  snail  much  better  do 
With  his  stable  on  his  back. 

— F.  C.  Gordon  in  St.  Nicholas 


o 


VOI-.  ;:xviii 


THE 


Canadian  Magazine 


TOROXTO,  FEBRUARY'.    1907 


tpie^taf"!  former  |?ai}5 


B\' 


(y^c/^cj-i^     l/ -7- 


'T^Zt-^^P^ 


An  appreciation  of  players  long  gone  from  the  stage,  of 

the  play  itself  as  a  powerful  organ  of  culture,  with 

a  suggestion  for  Mr.  Andrew  Carnegie 


HE  death  of  Ristori  recalls 
''■!!  her  to  the  memory  of  such 
of  her  surviving  contem- 
I  poraries  as  were  lovers  of 
Hi  the  stage  in  those  days. 
Hers  was  a  figure  not  easily  forgotten. 
She  was  a  truly  noble  woman,  made 
to  express  noble  passions.  Her  favour- 
ite part  was  Camma,  the  heroine  of 
a  drama  by  ^Slontanelli,  and  she  was 
at  the  height  of  her  glory  in  the  scene 
in  which  Camma  cajoles  the  Tetrarch, 
who  for  guilty  love  of  her  had  murdered 
her  husband,  into  drinking  the  poisoned 
cup,  then  drinks  of  it  herself  and  dies. 
The  story  is  taken  from  Plutarch 
(Treatise  on  the  Virtues  of  Women). 
Tennyson  has  used  it  for  his  ''Cup." 

I  saw  Rachel  in  her  best  parts 
both  in  London  and  at  Paris.  It  is 
presumptuous  to  speak  of  her  after  such 
a  critic  as  Matthew  Arnold,  who  says 
that  Rachel  begins  almost  where  Sara 
Bernhardt  ends.  High  passion  was 
evidently  her  forte,  and  I  should  say 
passion  such  as  that  of  Phedre,  rather 
of  the  diabolical  than  of  the  seraphic 
kind.  That  she  was  magnificent  in 
her  way  could  not  be  doubted.  Her 
special  part  was  that  of  Adrienne  Lecou- 
\Teur.   in    a    drama    written   expresslv 


316 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


HELEN  FAUCI T 

Who  afterwards  became 
Lady  Martin.  She  was  re- 
garded as  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  women  of  her 
day.  Dr.  Smith  remem- 
bers her  as  a  tender,  grace- 
ful actress,  but  not  so  great 
in  passion  as  Ristfiri  or 
Rachel. 


-•:# 


RACHEL 

The  celebrated  French 
actress,  as  she  appeared 
in  Valeria  in  1851.  The 
realism  of  her  death  scenes 
was  said  to  be  remarkable. 
Matthew  Arnold  says  that 
she  begins  almost  where 
Sara  Bernhardt  ends. 


ADELAIDE  RISTORI 

Whose  death 
prompted  Dr. 
Smith's  remini- 
scences of  the 
stage.  Her  New 
York  debut  wa^ 
made  in  1866.  Sho 
is  shown  here  as 
she  appeared  in 
"Myrra." 


ALFRED   WIGAX 


As  Monsieur  Tourbillon  and  Mrs.  Wigan 
as  Virginie 


JENNIE   LIND 

The  world-renowned  songstress,  as  she 
appeared  in  "La  Sonnambula' 


Reproductions  from  Old  Engravings 


TllK    STAGE    OF    FOKMKIi    DAYS 


317 


MADEMOISELLE  TIETIENS 

Who  in  her  time  was  fine  as  an  actress 
in  Luctezia  Borgia 


CHARLES  KEAX 

Dr.  Smith  does  not  agree  with  the  opinion  that 
Kean  was  great  in  Hamlet 


E^ 

SAMUEL  PHELPS 

W^ho  was  a  well-known  figrnre  at 
Sadler's  Wells 


MADAME  ALBOXJ 

Whom  Dr.  Smith  refers  to  as  the  peerless 
queen  of  song 


Four  Reproductiom  from  Old  Engravings  by  D   J .  Pound 


318 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


for  her,  the  plot  of  which  turned  on  the 
rivalry  of  two  women  for  the  love  of 
Maurice  de  Saxe.  The  death  scene  at 
the  conclusion  was  certainly  a  remarkable 
piece  of  work.  It  was  said  with  proba- 
bihty  to  have  been  studied  in  a  hospital. 
Adrienne,  dying  ol  the  poison  administered 
by  her  rival,  was  placed  in  a  chair  in  which 
she  went  through  the  agonies  of  death  and, 
at  last,  convulsively  rising  fell  back  dead. 
Rachel  appeared  on  the  stage  glittering 
with  the  gifts  of  admirers. 

The  best  performers  on  the  English  stage 
in  those  times  were  Wigan  and  Helen 
Faucit.  Helen  Faucit  never  soared  to  the 
heights  of  Ristori  or  Rachel,  nor  was  she 
great  in  passion;  but  her  acting  was  full 
of  tenderness  and  grace.  Of  Wigan  it 
was  said  by  his  admirers  that  he  alone 
could  represent  a  gentleman.  The  saying 
was  scarcely  just  to  Wigan's  compeers. 

Some  of  the  opera  people  acted  as  well 
as  sang  well.  Jennie  Lind's  acting  was 
charming  in  pieces  that  suited  her,  such 
as  the  Gazza  Laddra  and  the  Figlia  del 
Regimento.  In  fact,  her  acting,  I  think, 
was  a  part  of  her  charm,  and  you  felt  that 
you  missed  something  when  she  sang  at  a 
concert.  Tietiens  was  tane  as  an  actress 
in  Lucrezia  Borgia,  while  Alboni,  the 
peerless  queen  of  song,  trod  the  stage  in 
her  tabard  like  a  female  elephant.  Jennie 
Lind's  popularity  was  enhanced  by  her 
character.  She  was  not,  like  other  prima 
donnas,  a  harpy,  but  left  something  for  the 
lesser  people. 

I  Hked  to  go  to  Sadler's  Wells,  the 
people's  theatre  in  those  days,  now  long 
numbered  with  the  past.  It  was  nice 
to  see  the  enjoyment  of  the  people  and 
their  loyalty  to  Shakespeare.  The  taste 
of  the  people,  being  simple,  as  a  rule  is  true. 
It  is  in  the  grade  above,  that  of  the  music 
hall,  that  the  false  taste  begins.  The 
popular  power  of  hearty  realisation  was 
amusing  and  pleasant  to  behold.  A  man 
carried  away  by  the  struggle  between 
Richard  II  and  the  murderers,  when 
Richard  felled  one  of  his  assailants,  junip- 
ed  up  and  shouted,  "  Go  it,  old  fellow! 
He's  getting  on  pretty  well." 

Phelps  was  the  chief  actor  as  well  as  the 
lessee  of  Sadler's  WelLs.  He  was  strong 
in   declamation.     He  gave  us  Prospero's 


great  speech  well.  Let  me  observe,  by 
the  way,  in  answer  to  a  critic,  that  I  never 
said  that  Prospero  was  James  I.  What  I 
did  say  was  that  James  I,  being,  Hke  Pros- 
pero, the  father  of  the  bride,  and  intensely 
proud  of  his  learning,  was  pretty  sure  to 
apply  to  himself  the  compliments  paid 
to  Prospero.  Nor  was  it  unlikely  that  he 
who  had  been  the  object  of  the  Gun- 
jxnvder  Plot,  and  was  at  the  time  of  the 
performance  struggling  with  a  violent  op- 
position in  Parliament,  would  chuckle 
over  the  discomfiture  of  the  double  plot  in 
the  Tempest. 

Sadler's  Wells  suffered  by  its  attempt 
to  emulate  the  historic  realism  which  was 
the  ill-starred  fancy  of  Charles  Kean. 
Kean  imagined  that  he  could  lend  reality 
to  the  performance  of  Shakespeare's  plays 
by  a  faithful  reproduction  of  contemporary 
costume  and  pageantry.  He  might  have 
known  that  in  Shakespeare's  time  there 
was  no  scenery,  but  only  a  stage.  The 
scenery  the  audience  were  expected  to 
supply  out  of  their  own  fancy.  They  had 
to  draw  on  their  imaginations  for  the  field 
of  Bosworth  or  Agincourt  with  contending 
armies,  for  the  Roman  senate  house,  and 
the  wood  of  Arden.  He  might  also  have 
known  that  Shakespeare  was  no  antiquar- 
ian, but  clothed  all  his  characters  with  the 
raiment  and  surrounded  them  with  the 
circumstances  of  his  own  time.  A  Duke 
of  Athens,  to  him,  was  like  a  Duke  of 
Milan  or  Ferrara.  Charles  Kean  made 
the  scene  of  the  Midsummer  Night 
ancient  Athens,  with  a  classical  Theseus 
and  at  the  same  time  with  fairies,  nunner- 
ies, and  a  duel. 

Charles  Kean  was  supposed  to  succeed 
in  Hamlet.  I  could  not  agree  with  the 
opinion.  Hamlet  is  a  desperately  difficult 
part.  Shakespeare  was  not  only  a  drama- 
tist in  the  strict  sense  of  the  word,  but  a 
philosophic  poet.  He  shows  it  in  the 
soliloquy  of  Hamlet  and  in  such  a  passage 
as  that  in  the  Merchant  of  Venice,  v.  i., 
"Sit  Jessica,"  etc.  The  subtlety  of  Ham- 
let's character  is  almost  beyond  the  scope 
of  drama.  Anyone  who  had  the  sensibility 
to  feel  it  would  scarcely  have  the  nerv'e  to 
act  it.  The  best  Hamlet  I  ever  saw  was 
Emile  DevTient,  in  Germany,  who  man- 
aged as  far  as  possible  to  make  you  feel 


'I  UK    S'lACiK    OF    K()|{Mi;i{    DA^S 


.SI  9 


@), 


^77. 


Wk 


%$ 


''^)j 


'((o 


/^?T!TT 


that    he  was    solilucjuising    Uj    liiniself 
and  not  to  the  pit. 

A  powerful  organ  is  the  stage,  not 
only  of  enjoyment  but  of  culture,  es- 
pecially for  the  masses  of  the  people. 
The  theatre  at  Dresden,  of  which  for 
.some  months  I  was  a  constant  attend- 
ant, sub.sidised  and  controlled  by  the 
Government,  must,  I  am  sure,  have 
been  a  powerful  and  salutary  instru 
ment  of  popular  education.  I  had  the 
[pleasure  of  witnessing  there  the  most 
rapturous  applause  of  Shakespeare, 
who  was  acted  in  the  excellent  German 
translation  of  Schlegel  and  Tieck.  If 
my  beneficent  and  honoured  friend 
Andrew  Carnegie  had  endowed  popular 
theatres  instead  of  endowing  libraries, 
which  are  multiplying  fast  enough  of 
themselves,  I  am  not  sure  that  his 
l)ounty  would  not  have  been  better 
bestowed. 


As  in  a  theatre,  the, eyes  of  men, 
After  a  well-graced  actor  leaves  the 

stage. 
Are  idly  bent  on  him  that  enters  next. 

— King  Richard  II 

The  play  is  the  thing  wherein  I'll  catch 
The  conscience  of  the  King. 

— Hamlet 


% 

^^^^^^^5^ 

^^^ 

Ij 

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~_^1 

— u 

An  Emperor  at  Work  and  at  Play 

BY  A  SPECIAL  CORRESPOXDENT 


Intimate  sketch  of  '^The  Grand  Old  Man"  among  Royalties, 
showing  the  simple  and  severe  life  of  an  esteemed  monarch 


UITE  apart  from  the  foolish 
praise  lavished  upon  mon- 
archs  for  their  sHghtest  act, 
His  Imperial  Majesty  Francis 
Joseph,  Emperor  of  Austria 
and  King  of  Hungary,  ruler  of  a  dozen 
States  and  twenty  peoples,  speaking  as 
many  languages,  is  one  of  the  most  re- 
markable figures  in  the  civilised  world 
to-day,  by  reason  of  his  great  age,  his 
severe  and  simple  life,  the  tragedies  of  his 
family,  and,  above  all,  the  wonderful  way 
he  holds  together  the  warring  factions 
within  his  empire. 

No    prince    of    the    Hapsburg    House 


THE    EMPEROR    OF    AUSTRIA    AND    KING    OF    HUNGARY 

^20 


ever  enjoyed  such  universal  respect  and 
reverence;  and  whoever  has  occasion 
to  approach  this  "Grand  Old  Man" 
among  the  monarchs  of  the  world  is  filled 
with  enthusiasm  for  his  charm  of  manner, 
his  democratic  approachableness,  his 
amazing  frankness,  and  his  sterHng  sense 
of  justice. 

Will  it  be  believed  that  this  aged  man, 
now  nearly  seventy-five,  works  ten  hours 
a  day  and  more  at  State  and  military 
affairs — and  that  for  weeks  on  end — 
often  contenting  himself  with  a  "quick 
lunch"  brought  to  him  at  the  desk  in  his 
study.  Old  Francis  Joseph  to-day  re- 
mains the  same  early  riser 
he  was  in  the  days  of  his 
youth,  and  summer  and  winter 
rises  from  his  little  iron  bed- 
stead at  the  unearthly  hour 
of  half-past  four.  His  toilet 
— bathing,  sha\'ing,  and  dress- 
ing— never  takes  him  longer 
than  half  an  hour;  and,  as  the 
Emperor  doesn't  care  for  civil- 
ian dress,  he  usually  dons  the 
uniform  of  a  Colonel  of  one  of 
his  own  regiments. 

On  his  frequent  shooting 
expeditions,  however,  he  wears 
the  coarse  dress  of  Alpine 
Austria,  and  in  his  study  ap- 
pears in  a  short  military  cloak 
with  a  peakless  soldier's  cap 
on  his  grey  head.  Every  single 
act  of  this  remarkable  old 
man's  life  is  conducted  with 
military  precision.  On  the 
\ery  stroke  of  five  his  break- 
fast— a  cup  of  coffee,  some 
cold  meat,  and  rolls — is 
brought  him,  and  before  six 
he  is  in  his  study. 

A  casual  glance  might  lead 
one  to  think  this  was  a  cosy 
sitting-room,  with    its  dainty 


AN  empp:ror  at  work  and  at  play 


3il 


pictures,  framed  photos,  and  charming 
furniture,  but  the  big  writing-table  in  the 
window,  the  bookshelves,  and  the  Htter 
of  newspaper  cuttings  on  tables,  chairs, 
and  floor  reveal  the  room's  true  purpose. 
Just  above  the  Emperor's  writing- 
table  hangs  a  portrait  of  his  late  Consort, 
the  Empress  Elizabeth,  who  was  stabbed 
to  the  heart  with  a  file  by  a  maniac 
anarchist  in  Geneva  some  years  ago. 
Alas!  this  is  but  one  of  the  many  dark 
tragedies  that  have  overshadowed  the 
unfortunate  House  of  Hapsburg.  In  this 
study  the  aged  Emperor  works  uninter- 
ruptedly until  noon.  Bulky  packets  of 
papers  and  ministerial  reports  are  read 
to  him,  and  so  carefully  does  he  go 
through  this  work  that  he  frequently 
pounces  upon  contradictions  between 
clauses  which  have  entirely  escaped  the 
notice  of  ^linisters  or  Under-Secretaries 
who  may  have  drafted  the  Bill. 

The  Austrian  Emperor  is  a  great  man 
for  inviting  petitions  from  all  sections 
of  his  wonderful  empire — and  few  people 
realise  the  diversity  of  nations  which 
go  to  make  up  the  Dual  ^lonarchy. 
May  not  the  domes  and  minarets  and 
cupolas  of  Islam  be  seen  in  Bosnia  and 
the  Herzegovina  ?  Is  not  Italian  the 
language  of  Istria  ?  Are  not  the  Hun- 
garians more  different  from  the  Austrians 
than  the  Irish  from  the  English  ? 

Naturally,  then,  petitions  are  numerous, 
and  every  one  of  these  documents  is 
r^ad  by  the  Emperor,  who  speaks  and 
writes  with  perfect  ease  seven  or  eight 
languages,  including  Magyar,  Croat,  and 
PoHsh,  as  well  as  ItaKan  and  Russian. 
If  he  thinks  any  petition  worthy  he  puts 
his  Imperial  sign  manual  upon  it  and 
passes  it  on  to  a  minister,  who  carries 
out  the  request.  Important  laws  may 
often  lie  on  the  table  in  this  room  for 
many  weeks  before  the  conscientious 
old  man  will  make  up  his  mind  to  sign 
them;  nor  does  he  ever  put  his  signa- 
ture   on    a    death-warrant    ^^•ithout    ex- 

i    haustive    study    of   the    case,    and    until 

j    he    is    con\inced    that    clemency    would 

i    be  an  injury  to  society. 

1        In    one    comer    stands    a    little    cup- 

I  board  of  egriot  wood  in  which  the  old 
Kaiser  Franz  Josef  keeps  his  private 
correspondence  and  accounts;    and  here. 


too,  he  keeps  papers  he  dislikes  to  sign 
and  equally  dislikes  to  return  to  the 
Ministers  unsigned,  lest  their  feelings  be 
hurt.  Such  documents  frequently  are 
concerned  with  the  conferring  of  honours 
and  distinctions. 

Having  read  and  signed  a  whole  host 
of  reports,  petitions,  bills,  and  other 
paper,  the  Emperor  glances  through 
the  Vienna  papers  and  also  the  big 
assortment  of  newspaper  cuttings  from 
all  the  leading  journals  of  the  world. 
It  is  worthy  of  note  that  within  the  last 
month  or  two  the  Emperor  gave  special 
instructions  that  the  press  cuttings  from 
America  were  to  be  trebled. 

At  nine  he  receives  his  Adjutant- 
General,  Count  Paar.  Next  come  the 
Directors  of  the  Chancelleries  of  Austria 
and  Hungary,  with  whom  he  may  work 
for  hours.  Later  the  Ministers  of  State 
and  Court  Dignitaries  arrive  to  present 
reports  and  receive  instructions.  All 
except  callers  wearing  militarv-  uniform 
appear  in  evening  dress  in  the  Imperial 
study,  even  though  the  hour  be  seven 
o'clock  in  the  morning. 

They  report  standing  till  the  Emperor 
sits  down  and  invites  them  to  a  chair. 
Ministerial  Councils  and  Military  Con- 
ferences are  not  held  in  this  room.  The 
Emperor's  so-called  private  apartments 
only  comprise  five  rooms — two  drawing- 
rooms,  the  study,  his  bedroom,  and  a 
Conference  Room.  In  the  Vienna  Hof- 
burg,  as  the  Imperial  Palace  is  called, 
general  audiences  are  held  twice  a  week, 
and  positively  anyone  wishing  to  prefer 
a  request  or  petition  may  approach  freely 
this  most  democratic  of  Emperors. 

It  does  not  matter  whether  the  Imperial 
visitor  is  a  street-sweeper  or  a  noble- 
man like  one  of  the  princely  House  of 
Esterhazy.  I  have  often  seen  Archdukes 
and  Princes  with  their  dress-coats  ablaze 
with  Orders  walking  into  the  presence 
of  the  Emperor  side  by  side  with  the 
poorest  of  peasants.  Naturally,  the  audi- 
ences cannot  last  long,  since  the  aged 
monarch  often  receives  over  a  hundred 
persons  in  a  single  forenoon. 

In  each  case  Franz  Josef  is  posted 
up  on  the  subject  from  the  -mitten  peti- 
tion; and  as  neither  an  adjutant  nor  any 
Court    official    is   present,    the    Emperor 


322 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


alone  is  face  to  face  with  his  petitioner. 
It  frequently  happens  that  the  latter 
is  struck  absolutely  speecliless  in  the 
Emperor's  presence,  but  the  old  man 
will  take  his  hand  and  speak  words  of 
kindly  encouragement  until  his  visitor 
is  quite  at  his  ease  and  recovers  his 
speech. 

Frequent  slips  of  the  tongue,  such 
as  "Your  Excellency"  and  even  "Mr. 
Emperor!"  are  never  heeded,  of  course; 
and  to  hear  the  old  Kaiser  ratthng  off 
the  dialects  of  his  polyglot  empire  is  an 
experience  probably  unique  in  Royal 
receptions.  He  drops  into  Hungarian 
for  one  set  of  subjects,  and  there  is 
Polish  for  the  Galicians;  Czech  for  the 
Bohemians;  ItaHan  for  the  people  round 
about  Trieste  and  the  Adriatic  seaboard, 
and  so  on. 

Of  course,  not  every  petition  can  be 
granted,  but  even  if  the  Emperor  is 
bound  to  refuse  his  manner  has  so  delicate 
and  gentle  a  charm  that  the  disappointed 
one  comes  away  full  of  love  for  the  old 
man.  A  Ught  nod  and  a  smile  is  a  hint 
to  the  visitor  that  the  audience  is  over, 
and  the  Emperor  hurries  over  to  his 
desk  to  make  a  few  notes  and  get  inform- 
ation from  the  list  there  about  the  next 
case. 

Comically  enough,  many  visitors,  prob- 
ably impressed  by  the  occasion,  or  filled 
with  their  own  troubles,  disregard  the 
monarch's  nod  altogether.  Such  incon- 
siderate folk  ^\'ill  remain  standing  in  the 
audience-room  and  begin  relating  their 
case  all  over  again.  But  never  once 
does  the  Emperor  show  signs  of  impa- 
tience, but  listens  with  that  air  of  atten- 
tive benignance  that  has  made  him  so 
beloved. 

It  has  been  kno^\Ti,  too,  that  old 
people  have,  in  their  agitation,  thrown 
themselves  at  their  sovereign's  feet,  and 
he  himself  assists  them  to  arise.  All 
these  duties,  coupled  with  the  opening 
of  Art  Exhibitions,  the  attending  of  the 
funeral  of  one  of  his  generals,  or  a  call 
on  a  foreign  royalty  or  ambassador, 
frequentlv  leave  hardly  any  time  for 
limch,  in  such  cases  a  plate  of  sand- 
wiches and  a  glass  of  Bavarian  beer  are 
brought  to  the  desk. 

In    the    ordinary-    way,    however,    the 


Emperor  lunches  with  his  Adjutant- 
General,  taking  only  a  soup,  two  dishes 
of  meat,  and  a  glass  of  beer.  His  Majesty 
afterwards  lights  one  of  the  cigars  made 
specially  for  him  of  choice  Havana 
leaves  rolled  in  the  Vienna  factory.  He 
often  presents  a  box  of  these  to  persons 
he  wishes  to  favour.  The  Imperial  dinner, 
usually  served  at  seven,  is  also  eaten 
in  private  with  the  Adjutant-General. 
Count  Paar.  As  a  rule,  it  consists  of 
five  coiu"ses — light  hors  d'ceu\Tes,  a  soup, 
some  boiled  or  roast  meat,  a  sweet,  and 
some  dessert,  with  the  inevitable  glass 
of  Bavarian  beer  and  a  cigar.  The 
Kaiser  disUkes  wine,  and,  when  giving 
toasts  at  State  banquets,  he  barely  touches 
the  champagne  glass  to  his  lips. 

He  almost  invariably  retires  to  rest 
early,  but  if  he  should  be  kept  up  late 
he  takes  nothing  more  before  going  to 
bed  except  a  plate  of  strawberries  in 
summer  or  a  glass  of  "bonny-clabber." 
Being  a  pillar  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church,  the  Austrian  Emperor  abstains 
from  meat  on  Fridays  and  fast  days, 
eating  fish  instead;  and,  in  general, 
the  monarch's  table  is  that  of  an  ordinary 
middle-class  Vienna  citizen.  The  Im- 
perial chej,  however,  is  always  tempting 
his  master;  but  at  night,  when  the  menu 
for  the  next  day  is  sent  dowTi  to  the 
kitchen,  it  always  contains  erasures  by 
the  Emperor's  pen. 

Naturally,  State  and  other  dinners 
are  a  very  different  matter,  for  it  is  well 
kno\\'n  that,  in  spite  of  the  abstemious- 
ness of  the  Emperor  as  an  individual, 
the  Court  of  Vienna  is  one  of  the  most 
brilliant  in  the  world,  and  the  women 
most  beautifully  dressed.  In  the  course 
of  a  year  many  magnificent  banquets 
are  given  at  the  Hofburg  in  honour  of 
foreign  Monarchs,  Princes,  and  Ambas- 
sadors; and  other  State  events  take  place 
in  the  Royal  Castle  at  Budapest,  when 
high  officers  of  State,  Court  digni- 
taries, and  members  of  the  Houses  of 
Parliament  of  Austria  and  Hungary  are 
invited. 

During  dinner  the  Emperor  converses 
in  his  liveliest  manner  with  the  guests  of 
honour  near 'him,  and  when  he  rises, 
the  whole  party  of  men  betake  them- 
selves to  the  smokinsr-room,  where  black 


AN    EMPEROR   AT    WORK   AND    AT    PLAY 


323 


coffee  is  served.  Here  begins  what  is 
known  as  the  cercle  at  the  Austrian 
Court.  The  Emperor  talks  in  turn  to 
everyone  present  about  personal  things 
or  current  events.  He  likes  the  frankest 
replies,  and  laughs  with  grand  joviaHty 
at  witty  sallies. 

Formerly  Francis  Joseph  devoted  two 
hours  to  his  family  after  lunch,  but 
since  the  painful  death  of  his  only  son, 
the  CrowTi  Prince  Rudolph,  and  the 
assassination  of  his  Empress  at  Geneva, 
coupled  with  the  marriage  of  his  two 
daughters,  he  leads  a  very  solitary  life 
for  the  greater  part  of  the  year.  In 
summer,  however,  he  makes  his  way 
to  his  lovely  villa  at  Ischl,  in  the  beauti- 
ful Salzkammergut,  and  here  he  is  sur- 
rounded by  his  daughters  and  their 
children.  It  is  then  this  pathetic  old 
man  is  happiest,  placing  grandfather 
with  the  babies,  taking  walks  with  them, 
and  forgetting  for  a  brief  season  the 
trials,  sufferings,  misfortunes,  and  dis- 
appointments which  life  has  brought 
him. 

\Mien  in  V^ienna  the  greater  part  of  the 
afternoon  and  evening  are  spent  at  work 
in  his  study,  but  now  and  again  His 
Majesty  will  take  a  drive  out  to  the 
villa  of  his  younger  daughter,  the  Arch- 
duchess Marie  Valerie,  at  Lainz,  not 
far  from  Vienna;  or  to  the  Imperial 
Chateau  of  Schonbrunn,  where  in  spring 
and  autumn  the  Emperor  resides  alto- 
gether. The  park  at  Schonbrunn  con- 
tains the  Emperor's  favourite  walks. 

\Mien  driving,  his  carriage  is  never 
surrounded  by  a  military  escort,  and  the 
Emperor  has  an  intense  personal  dislike 
of  any  police  precautions  for  his  safety. 
Of  course,  the  public  recognise  their 
beloved  sovereign  and  pay  him  homage 
and  reverence.  His  recreations  are  read- 
ing, the  theatre,  and  shooting.  He  is 
not  so  much  a  theatre-goer  now  as  he 
was  in  former  years,  but  still  he  loves 
to  see  a  new  play  in  the  Imperial  Burg- 
theatre  or  the  Imperial  Opera  House. 
His  Majesty  prefers  comedies,  and  may 
be  seen  laughing  heartily  at  the  fimny 
episodes. 

The  old  Emperor  gives  with  full  hands 

to    the    poor    and    suffering,    and    often, 

I  v/hen  sums  are  proposed  by  his  ministers 


and  Court  ofi&cials  in  aid  of  persons, 
villages,  or  districts  in  distress — Lai- 
back,  for  instance,  a  notorious  earth- 
quake centre — the  amounts  are  con- 
stantly raised,  and  even  doubled,  by 
the  Emperor. 

The  Austrian  Emperor  is  enormously 
rich  privately,  and  his  Civil  List  amounts 
to  22,6oo,ooc  kronen,  which  enables 
him  to  spend  enormous  sums  annually 
on  charitable  and  public  objects.  In 
this  way  he  outdoes  all  the  other  Sover- 
eigns of  Europe.  Then  there  are  allow- 
ances to  the  members  of  his  family,  the 
up-keep  of  palaces,  chateaus,  villas, 
shooting-bo.xes,  parks,  zoological  gardens, 
State  theatres,  and  libraries,  and  other 
drains  upon  the  Imperial  purse,  so  that, 
humble  as  the  Emperor's  personal  wants 
are,  he  would  face  a  big  deficit  every 
week  if  he  had  nothing  to  dispose  of  but 
his  Civil  List. 

A  valet  who  was  in  the  service  of  the 
Emperor  for  nearly  thirty  years  once 
remarked  to  a  friend:  'T  will  bet  that 
ten  kronen  a  day  would  be  quite  enough 
for  my  Imperial  master  to  live  upon." 
And  yet,  frugal  as  he  is,  economy  is  never 
allowed  to  be  practised  in  the  up-keep  of 
the  Austrian  Court,  as  anyone  knows  who 
has  attended  any  of  the  receptions, 
gala  banquets,  and  Court  balls  in  the 
Vienna  Hofburg,  or  the  castle  of  Buda — 
two  palaces  renowned  the  world  over 
for  the  brilliancy  and  splendour  of  their 
festivities. 

His  Majesty  is  also  a  very  liberal 
patron  of  arts  and  letters;  and  no  con- 
siderable exhibition  is  given  in  the 
capital  without  his  \-isiting  it  and  bu\-ing 
a  number  of  valuable  canvases  selected 
by  him  with  rare  taste.  In  both  capitals, 
\'ienna  and  Budapest,  will  be  found 
manv  magnificent  monuments  due  entirely 
to  the  Emperor.  If  he  does  not  attend 
the  theatre,  the  aged  Monarch  retires 
to  bed  at  half -past  eight,  so  it  is  no 
wonder  he  is  amazingly  vigorous  and 
healthy,  and  has  reigned  more  than 
fifty-six  years,  and  bids  fair  to  beat  the 
record  of  Queen  Victoria  in  this  respect. 

Once,  and  once  only,  has  the  Austrian 
Emperor  been  seriously  iU,  and  that 
was  in  1853,  when  a  tailor  named  Libeny, 
a  fanatical  adherent  of  Louis  Kossuth, 


324 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


made  an  attempt  on  his  life,  inflicting  on 
the  Emperor  a  serious  wound  with  a 
dagger.  Once  or  twice  recently  he  has 
suffered  a  little  from  lumbago,  and  here 
it  may  be  mentioned  how  scrupulously 
exact  the  Monarch  is  in  obeying  the  orders 
of  his  physician. 

For  many  years  he  smoked  a  very 
strong  cigar  known  as  the  Virginier- 
cigarren,  but  when  his  doctor  told  him 
one  day  these  smokes  might  injure  his 
health  the  Emperor  put  away  the  cigar 
he  had  just  lighted  and  has  never  smoked 
one  since.  No  fulsome  courtier's  praise, 
when  one  of  his  Ministers  declared  the 
Emperor  the  most  hard-worked  man  in 
the  Dual  Monarchy.  Whether  in  the 
Vienna  Hofburg  or  Buda  Castle,  His 
Majesty  is  hard  at  work  the  livelong 
day;  and  even  in  summer  and  autumn, 
when  in  his  villa  at  Ischl  or  the  Chat  au 
of  Schonbrunn,  or  even  in  his  far-off 
Hungarian  country  seat  at  GodoUo,  a 
constant  stream  of  couriers  find  him  at 
work  as  early  as  five  in  the  morning 
at  his  writing-table. 

The  Imperial  villas  at  Ischl  and 
Godollo  are  furnished  with  truly  Spartan 
simplicity,  and  here  the  old  Emperor 
walks  in  the  woods  or  drives  alone  or  with 
his  daughters  and  grandchildren.  But 
even  when  travelling  or  attending  the 
great  autumn  manoeuvres,  the  Emperor 
never  lets  his  work  slide;  and  even  on 
his  beloved  hunting  expeditions  his  guests 
often  find  their  Imperial  host  has  been 
up  an  hour  or  two  before  them  at  his 
desk. 

Not  less  strictl}-  does  the  Emperor 
discharge  his  religious  duties.  He  takes 
part  in  all  great  Church  festivals,  and  for 
this  reason  the  Corpus  Christi  proces- 
sion and  the  Easter  celebrations  are 
great  sights  for  the  pleasure-loving  Vien- 
nese. Then  on  IMaundy  Thursday,  in  the 
Great  Hall  of  Ceremonies  of  the  Hofburg, 
the  Emperor  goes  through  the  quaint 
mediaeval  ceremony  of  washing  the  feet 
of  twelve  aged  men. 

Unique  among  Monarchs,  the  .Austrian 
Emperor  has  no  favourites,  and  his 
Ministers,  no  matter  how  much  he  may 
distinguish  them,  can  never  tell  how 
near  to  their  Imperial  master's  heart 
they  really  are.     The  late  Counts  Bom- 


belles,  Taaffe,  and  Pejacsevics  were  always 
addressed  by  him  as  "thou,"  being  dear 
friends  from  childhood.  Yet  none  of 
the  three  could  assert  he  had  ever  been 
particularly  favoured  by  his  master. 

Above  all  things,  Francis  Joseph  is 
a  sportsman.  A  crack  shot  he  has  been 
all  his  life,  and  formerly  a  hardy  and 
daring  mountaineer  who  would  leave 
behind  even  the  best  huntsman  and 
keepers  when  after  a  chamois  in  the 
Austrian  Alps.  Even  now,  at  his  great 
age,  he  loves  the  freedom  of  woods  and 
mountains,  clad  in  a  short  shooting- 
jacket  of  rough  wool,  leather  breeches 
that  leave  his  knees  bare,  grey  stockings, 
coarse-nailed  shoes,  and  a  jaunty  hat 
decorated  with  feathers  of  the  black- 
cock. 

His  Majesty  has  shot  over  a  thousand 
capercailzie.  This  most  shy  and  diffi- 
cult of  birds  is  met  chiefly  in  Styria, 
and  for  this  sport  the  Emperor  would 
drive  to  his  shooting-box  at  Neuberg 
or  Murzsteg,  in  Northern  Styria.  The 
Emperor  ascends  the  mountain  after 
capercailzie  in  the  dead  of  the  night  and 
reaches  the  required  spot  just  before 
dawn.  An  amazing  amount  of  caution 
is  necessary,  as  the  hunter  can  only 
approach  when  the  bird  is  calling  to  the 
hens.  Expert  hunter  as  the  Austrian 
Emperor  is,  he  has  never  secured  more 
than  se\-en  of  these  cocks  in  a  single 
night.    . 

At  five  in  the  morning  this  sport  is  over 
for  the  day,  and  two  hours  later  the  • 
Emperor  is  down  in  the  valley  at  the 
station,  and  at  ten  is  seated  at  his-  desk 
in  the  Vienna  Hofburg,  trying  to  make  up 
for  lost  time.  When  after  large  game, 
such  as  stags  and  chamois,  which  the 
Emperor  likes  best,  he  makes  for  the 
Salzkammergut  and  Styria. 

He  has  shooting-boxes  at  Murzsteg, 
Neuberg,  Schladming,  and  Radmer,  as 
well  as  a  small  one  on  the  Langbath-See 
and  another  on  the  Offen-See.  AU  these 
houses  are  furnished  in  the  simplest 
manner,  their  only  decorations  being 
horns,  heads,  and  stuffed  specimens,  as 
well  as  wood  carvings  and  sporting 
pictures.  WTien  he  goes  deer-stalking 
the  Emperor  wU  leave  his  little  iron 
bed  as  earlv  as  two  o'clock  in  the  morn 


THE    MEETING 


325 


ing,  and  neither  cold,  rain  nor  deep  snow 
can  keep  him  from  his  favourite  sport, 
despite  his  seventy-four  years. 

No  path  is  too  steep  for  him  if  he  can 
get  a  fair  shot  at  a  chamois,  of  which  he 
has,  so  far,  bagged  more  than  two  thou- 
sand. After  the  morning's  chase  the 
Emperor's  guests  retire  to  rest  nfter  the 
arduous  climbs,  whereas  the  aged  Em- 
peror busies  himself  with  State  affairs 
till  noon.  There  may  be  another  hunt 
in  the  afternoon,  and  foremost  and 
briskest  in  it  is  the  indefatigable  Emperor. 
On  such  days,  however,  he  goes  to  bed 
earlier  than  usual.  Thus  it  is  no  wonder 
their  sovereign  should  be  the  idol  of 
Austrian  huntsmen.  When,  seven  years 
ago,  he  celebrated  the  fiftieth  anni- 
versary of  his  reign,  several  thousand 
sportsmen,  rangers,  and  gamekeepers 
came  to  Vienna  from  every  part  of  the 
Empire  to  pay  their  respects  to  "The 
First  Sportsman  in  Austria,"  and  to 
present  him  with  a  golden  oak  branch. 

They  were  received  in  the  park  of 
Schonbrunn,  where  the  Emperor  shook 
hands  and  conversed  with  the  humblest 
gamekeeper  as  though  he  were  an  old 
friend.  As  Chief  of  the  Austro-Hun- 
garian  Army,  this  "Grand  Old  Man" 
is  more  indefatigable  than  ever.  Heart 
and  soul  he  is  with  his  military  staff, 
and  inspects  the  garrisons  of  Vienna 
several  times  during  the  year.  In  spring 
he  visits  Bruck-on-the-Leitha,  the  great 
military  camp,  and  is  ready  for  the 
important    manoeuvres    of    autumn.     At 


such  times  the  Emperor  will  work  at  his 
writing-table  even  an  hour  or  two  before 
dawn. 

At  a  very  early  hour  he  is  on  the  scene 
of  the  fight,  and  may  remain  seven  hours 
in  the  saddle.  "To  ride  like  the  Kaiser" 
is  a  proverb  in  the  Austro-Hungarian 
Army.  For,  even  at  this  day,  the  sep- 
tuagenarian Emperor  will  drive  his 
charger  at  full  speed  over  stiff  fences  and 
hedges.  During  the  manoeuvres  he  may 
be  seen  galloping  from  battery  to  battery 
or  conferring  with  infantry  officers,  or 
superintending  an  onslaught  of  the  cavalry. 
He  withholds  neither  praise  nor  blame; 
and  all  headquarters  oflScers,  as  well  as 
the  foreign  militar}-  attaches,  are  His 
Majesty's  guests  during  the  manoeuvres, 
all  meals  being  served  in  a  huge  tent. 

Naturally,  at  such  times  the  conver- 
sation is  military,  and  the  Emperor  is 
fond  of  entering  into  conversation  with 
young  officers,  discussing  with  them  the 
dispositions  for  the  following  day.  Court 
etiquette  is  not  in  force  and  often  officers 
covered  with  dust  hurry  in  after  dinner 
or  lunch  is  begun,  and  sit  dowTi  wherever 
they  find  an  empty  chair.  Thus  there 
may  be  forty  officers  with  the  Emperor 
when  the  lunch  begins  and  over  a  hun- 
dred when  the  coffee  is  served. 

Afterwards  maps  are  produced,  and 
Baron  Beck,  Chief  of  the  General  Staff, 
reviews  the  day's  proceedings  and  criti- 
cises the  work  of  individual  commanders. 
A  general  debate  follows,  in  which  the 
Emperor  takes  a  prominent  part. 


The  Meeting 

BY   ISABEL   ECCLESTONE    MACK.^Y 

QHE  flitted  by  me  on  the  stair — 

A  moment  since  I  knew  not  of  her. 
A  look,  a  smile!    She  passed,  but  where 
She  flitted  by  me  on  the  stair 
Joy  cradled  exquisite  despair: 
For  who  am  I  that  I  should  love  her? 
She  flitted  by  me  on  the  stair — 
A  moment  since  I  knew  not  of  her. 


The  Weaning  of  Arthur  Browning 


By  ALBERT  R.  CARMAN 


An  English  youth  of  "quality,"  afflicted  by  the   wiles  of   a 
cottager'' s  daughter,  is  cured  by  an  unexpected  remedy 


HERE  was  more  to  see  in 
Naples  that  spring  than  the 
goats  on  the  sidewalk,  the 
tourists  buying  tortoise  shell 
and  the  Vesuvian  cone  smok- 
ing, away  across  the  bay.  There  was  the 
sight  of  Arthur  Browning  in  course  of 
being  taught  that  in  the  world  are  sweets 
which  he  must  not  touch. 

Arthur  had  been  brought  abroad  by 
his  mother,  Mrs.  Penryn  Browning,  and 
his  uncle  on  his  mother's  side,  Col. 
Arthur  Penryn,  with  a  view  of  getting 
■*'some  nonsense  out  of  his  head,"  as  his 
imcle  would  explain  after  two  cigars  in 
the  smoking-room.  The  "nonsense" 
was  a  piece  of  daintily-modelled  pink- 
and-white  clay,  of  a  quite  inferior  qual- 
ity in  its  origin — "the  daughter  of  a 
cottager  on  his  mother's  estate,  indeed!" 
— who  had  very  nearly  "inveigled  the 
boy"  into  a  love  escapade.  So  they  had 
borne  him  off  to  the  continent,  where 
the  Venuses  are  all  cold  marble,  and 
"the  cottagers  don't  speak  your  lan- 
guage, by  Jove!"  And  there  was  plenty 
of  desiccated  history  and  fine  old  relig- 
ious art  to  fill  his  mind.  But  moonlight 
on  the  Grand  Canal  at  Venice  had  done 
little  for  him;  and  even  three  days'  lec- 
tures in  and  about  the  Forum  at  Rome 
had  not  kept  him  from  trying  to  get  a  letter 
oflf  from  that  city  to  "Vi,"  the  "huzzy" 
with  the  milk-white  brow  and  the  rose- 
petal  cheek.  He  seemed,  however,  to 
take  more  interest  in  Naples. 

The  reason  for  this  might  have  oc- 
curred to  his  mother  and  uncle  if  they 
had  not  kept  religiously  indoors  every 
evening — Mrs.  Browning  because  of  ma- 
laria, and  Col.  Penryn  because  there 
were  English  people  to  be  talked  to  and 
English  papers  to  be  read  in  the  smok- 
ing-room. The  greatest  pleasure  which 
some  travellers  find  in  Europe  is  the 
326 


rare  luck  of  meeting  an  occasional  fellow- 
countryman  there.  Now  Arthur,  hav- 
ing no  proper  fear  of  malaria,  spent  his 
evenings  lying  in  the  grass  at  the  outer- 
most edge  of  the  hotel  garden,  with  the 
city  twinkhng  below  him,  and  three  pairs 
of  feminine  eyes  twinkling  from  three 
chairs — though  he  knew  it  not — behind 
him.  All  he  knew  was  that  three  friend- 
ly American  women  sympathised  with 
him  in  "his  sad  case,"  and  that  they 
would  talk  to  him  of  it  for  hours  together 
out  there  in  the  velvet  dark. 

They  were  three  sisters — Mrs.  Harte, 
Miss  Gardiner  and  Miss  Marion  Gard- 
iner, who  were  "doing"  Evirope  to- 
gether. Mrs.  Harte — a  widow — was  cyn- 
ical. She  would  advance  such  theories 
as  that  "Vi  had  not  written  because  she 
was  busy  with  the  spring  cleaning." 
Aliss  Gardiner  was  mischievous.  She 
would  suggest  that  Vi  might  have  found 
comfort  in  some  one  else.  Arthur  would 
smile  superiorly  at  this.  It  was  "not  at 
all  likely."  Miss  Marion,  on  the  other 
hand,  did  nothing  but  indulge  in  ex- 
clamatory explosions  at  her  elder  sis- 
ter's irreverence  in  the  presence  of  a 
romance.  Arthur  was  a  lover;  and 
Marion  was  a  very  queen  in  the  world 
that  loves  a  lover. 

One  night  something  happened  that 
put  an  end  to  these  little  gatherings  in 
the  garden.  Marion  was  seized  with  a 
desire  to  go  down  the  long  steps  and 
through  the  mysterious  streets  and  so 
to  the  sea-wall,  upon  which  she  could 
hear  the  baby  Mediterranean  waves 
breaking  in  the  stillness.  Mrs.  Harte 
said  that  it  had  been  a  long  time  since 
she  was  "romantic  enough  to  go  away 
down  that  hill  for  that";  and,  though 
her  second  sister  hinted  that  being 
"rheumatic"  had  more  to  do  with  it, 
she  would  not  go  herself  so  far  to  a  beach 


THE  WEANING  OF  ARTHUR  BROWNING 


327 


where  one  could  not  bathe.  Arthur 
thought  that  this  ended  it,  for  surely 
even  an  American  girl  would  not  go 
down  there  with  him  and  without  a 
chaperon;  but  he  misjudged  the  situa- 
tion, for  Marion  did  go,  and  hung  trem- 
bling on  his  arm  as  they  pushed  past 
cloaked  figures  on  the  dark  Italian 
streets,  and  felt  that  she  would  have  died 
if  this  "boy  of  an  Enghshman"  had 
shown  the  least  sign  of  being  afraid. 
As  they  sat  together  on  the  sea-wall, 
Marion  looked  at  him,  erect  and  self- 
sufficient,  and  had  a  new  sense  of  his 
bravery.  No  wonder  that  fair  girl  in 
an  English  village  would  believe  in  him! 
Then  she  found  herself  wondering  ir- 
relevantly how  attractive  this  English 
girl  was. 

"She  is  very,  very  pretty,  isn't  she, 
Mr.  Browning?" 

"Vi?— Yes." 

"I  am  so  sorry  for  you  both.  It  must 
be  so  hard  to  be  kept  apart — and — and 
— not  to  be — to  be  sure,  you  know,  that 
you  can  have  each  other." 

"We  are  sure!" — firmlv. 

"Oh!" 

Somehow  this  did  not  seem  so  com- 
forting to  Marion  as  it  ought  to  have 
been. 

When  they  got  back,  they  found  Col. 
Penryn  waiting  for  them  at  the  door  of 
the  hotel.  No  one  was  waiting  for 
Marion,  however;  so  she  chatted  with 
the  two  men  a  few  moments  and  then 
stepped  into  the  elevator. 

The  Colonel  shook  his  head  at  Arthur 
slowly,  but  with  a  questioning  smile  at 
his  lips,  and  led  the  way  to  a  quiet  cor- 
ner in  the  smoking-room. 

"The  mater  has  been  greatly  disturb- 
ed," he  said,  presently.  "Couldn't  be- 
lieve that  they'd  let  you  go  »  ff  with  one 
of  the  girls.  What  kind  of  girls  are 
they,  anyway?" 

"Very  nice  young  ladies,"  replied  Ar- 
thur, soberly. 

The  Colonel  pufifed  for  a  while. 

"Well,  better  see  the  mater,"  he  said. 
"This  is  not  in  my  department." 

The  result  was  that  the  Browning 
party  took  the  earlv  morning  boat  next 
day  for  Capri;  and.  incidentally,  Arthur 
learned   that    his   mother   thought    "un- 


known American  adventuresses"  quite 
as  objectionable,  though  far  less  at- 
tractive,    than     "cottagers'     daughters." 

The  Brownings  spent  three  days  at 
Capri,  the  Colonel  going  up  every  after- 
noon to  see  the  Tarantella  danced  on 
the  high  cHff  of  Tiberius  by  the  bare- 
footed Italian  woman  and  her  young 
husband,  with  the  St.  Sabastian  eyes; 
and  then  they  bought  scarfs  and  sat  on 
their  hotel  gallery  over  the  sea  at  Sor- 
rento for  another  day;  and  then  drove 
up  through  the  terraces  of  orange  groves 
and  fragrant  lemons  to  the  height  of 
land,  and  so  down  to  Amalfi,  cUnging 
to  its  cliff-side  by  the  Bay  of  Salerno. 

The  next  morning  Arthur  was  walk- 
ing alone  in  the  square  by  the  church, 
watching  the  dark,  graceful  Amalfi  girls 
drawing  water  from  the  mountain  stream 
as  it  ran  through  the  street,  and  carrying 
it  off  in  stone  jars  of  the  Roman  shape 
on  their  straight,  strong  shoulders;  when, 
looking  up,  he  saw  a  tourist  girl  on  the 
steps  that  rise  to  the  church.  It  was 
Marion!  Their  party  had  come  round 
the  other  way  from  Naples,  and  were 
now  going  on  to  Sorrento  and  Capri, 
and  finally  to  Pompeii.  Arthur  diplo- 
matically explained  his  sudden  depart- 
ure from  Naples  as  being  due  to  the  de- 
sire of  his  mother  to  take  advantage  of 
the  fine  weather  for  the  sea  trip  to  Capri; 
and  then  they  both  feared  that  they 
would  not  have  time  to  bring  the  rest  of 
their  parties  together  here  in  Amalfi. 
But  they  thought  that,  having  met  by 
good  fortune,  they  might  follow  this 
Httle  mountain  stream  up  the  cliflf-side, 
through  clustering  stone  houses  and  by 
dripping  water-wheels.  Baedeker  said 
that  it  was  a  thing  which  simply  must 
be  done;  and  they  felt  sure  that  neither 
Mrs.  Harte  nor  Mrs.  Browming  could 
be  tempted  to  make  such  a  climb.  And 
it  proved  a  real  climb.  There  were 
places  where  he  had  to  take  her  hand 
over  moss-slippery  stone  pathways  and 
under  the  grim  antiquity  of  mediaeval. 
walls. 

And  it  was  a  slim  scrap  of  hand,  look- 
ing so  frail  and  dependent,  and  yet  feel- 
ing so  Hve.  It  was  soft;  and  still — dis- 
loyal thought — it  had  not  the  padded 
feeling  of  hands  he  had  held.     He  could. 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


touch  it  nowhere — not  even  at  the  finger- 
tips— without  touching  the  vital  girl. 
Now  there  were  hands  that  you  had  to 
squeeze  to  call  the  attention  of  their 
owners  to  the  circumstance  that  you 
were  holding  them. 

And  then  brown  eyes,  when  lifted  in 
half -serious,  half-playful  fear,  or  in  sud- 
denly felt  trust,  made  you  A\'ish  you  could 
prolong  the  occasion  which  had  opened 
them  upon  you. 

Finally'  he  did  prolong  it. 

He  had  taken  her  hand  across  a  step- 
ping-stone, and  he  kept  it  when  she  was 
safely  on  the  other  side.  There  was  a 
moment  or  two  of  waiting;  then  the 
brown  eyes  came  up,  protesting,  re- 
proachful. He  released  it,  uneasily;  and 
the  next  crossing  she  made  without  no- 
ticing his  outstretched  hand. 

There  was  a  stiffness  between  them 
as  they  went  down  the  tortuous  path 
toward  the  church  square.  Presently 
he  said  boyishly: 

"You  are  angry." 

"You  deserve  that  I  should  be." 

"Why?" 

"You  know\" 

Silence  for  several  minutes. 

"I  can't  say  that  I'm  sorry,  for  I'm 
not,"  was  the  way  he  broke  it. 

"Well,  you  ought  to  be." 

"Why  is  it  so  wrong  to  hold  your 
hand  for  a  minute?" 

"It  is  for  you — you  are  engaged." 

"Yes,  I  know — but — she  wouldn't  care." 

Marion  opened  her  eyes  and  looked 
at  him. 

"Honest!  She  wouldn't'.  She  has  said 
so!" 

"She  didn't  mean  it  then." 

"Would  you? — that  is,  if— if  we  were 
engaged?" 

"Most  certainly,"  with  a  little  air  of 
dignified  resentment  at  the  question. 

Arthur  looked  at  her  as  if  he  liked 
that  way  of  keeping  an  engagement. 
"Well,  Vi  wouldn't,"  he  repeated.  "She 
4aughs  at  engaged  people  who  are  the 
least  bit  strict  with  each  other." 

There  was  s}'Tnpathy  now  in  the 
brown  eyes  that  Marion  raised  to  him. 

"Do  you  like  it  that  way?"  she  asked, 
softly. 

"No,"  he  said,  promptly,  looking  into 


the  sympathetic  eyes;  and  then  he  re- 
membered how,  when  Vi  had  laughed, 
he  had  laughed  too.     So  he  went  on: 

"Well,  it  seems  all  right  with  Vi, 
but — "  He  stopped,  blushing  furious- 
ly. Marion  was  looking  earnestly  at 
him,  so  she  caught  his  blush  and  her  own 
face  crimsoned. 

Silence  again  for  several  minutes. 

Then  Arthur  Hfted  his  head.  "I 
shall  marry  Vi  as  soon  as  I  get  back," 
he  said  sturdily.  "I  love  her,  you  know." 
•  "Yes,"  said  Marion,  quietly. 

They  were  in  the  church  square  now; 
and  the  Colonel  was  showing  Mrs. 
Browning  the  old  stone  fountain  there. 
Much  politeness  was  wasted  in  the  greet- 
ings, and  then  Marion  went  up  into  the 
church,  and  i\rthur  lifted  his  hat  in  a 
solemn,  final  farewell. 

Five  days  later,  Arthur  was  standing 
in  the  garden  of  the  House  of  the  Faun 
in  Pompeii,  his  mother  and  uncle  resting 
themselves  meanwhile  on  the  steps  of 
the  Temple  of  Jupiter,  when  a  head  was 
poked  through  the  doorway,  and  he  was 
looking  at  the  familiar,  alert,  bird-like 
poise  of  Marion.  He  stepped  toward 
her,  and  she  looked  up.  Then,  with  a 
quick  glance  behind  her,  she  stepped  in. 
It  was  precisely  as  if  she  did  not  want 
her  sisters  to  see  which  particular  open- 
ing out  of  the  street  she  had  vanished 
through.  But  in  a  moment  she  seemed  to 
remember,  and  made  as  if  to  go  out  again. 

"Don't  go,"  cried  Arthur,  quickly. 

"But  I  must." 

"No.     Why?" 

"I  ought  to." 

"No,"  cried  Arthur  again,  though  he 
felt  it  a  futile  sort  of  thing  to  say.  But 
it  was  useless  for  either  of  them  to  pre- 
tend now  that  nothing  had  happened 
at  Amalfi. 

Suddenly  Arthur's  eyes  were  grave, 
and  his  mouth  came  firmly  together — a 
rare  thing  with  him — and  he  asked: 

"Can  a  man  change  his  mind?" 

"No!     Oh,  no!!" 

"But  I  have."  ; 

Silence. 

"It  is  you  I  want,"  Arthur  went  on, 
almost  fiercely. 

The    brown    eyes    came    up    bravely. 


DE    DOXKEY-DEBBLE  329 

"But — you — can't — have — "   And  then  to   get   into   the   same   compartment   on 

the  brown  was  all  shining  with  tears.  the  crowded  train  from  Pompeii  to  Naples 

"I  will,"  said  Arthur.  He  thought  it  with  Mrs.  Harte,  from  whom  he  learned 
was  a  shout,  but  it  was  little  more  than  that  the  Gardiners  were  a  Yorkshire 
a  whisper.  And  he  took  her  in  his  arms;  family  originally,  having  two  Bishops 
and  the  bright  sun  shone  about  them  and  and  one  Baronet  to  their  credit.  More- 
over the  roofless  city;  and  white  walls  over,  Mrs.  Harte  spoke  of  their  cottage 
which  had  seen  the  loves  of  the  first  cen-  at  Newport — one  of  the  few  places  in 
tury,  learned  that  it  is  still  the  same  America  of  which  the  Colonel  knew.  So 
race  which  comes  to  stare  at  them  after  Mrs.  Browning,  who  had  been  saving 
the  long  night.  Arthur  for  his  cousin  whom  "a  fool  of 

a  father"   was  taking  round  the  world, 

Mrs.   Penryn   Browning  and   Col.   Ar-  resolved  to  leave  the  future  on  the  knees 

thur   Penr}'n   would   certainly   have   car-  of    the    gods.     With    this    arrangement 

ricd   Arthur  off  that   night — perhaps   to  .Arthur   and   Marion  seemed   content,  so 

Russia — if  the  Colonel  had  not  chanced  long  as  they  could  name  the  god. 


De  Donkey-Debbie 

BY   JAMES   P.    H.4VF.RS0N 

FjOXKEY-DEBBLE  am  a  pes'. 
'■^     (Hush  ma  honey  chile) 
Little  Lady,  tak'  yo'  res'. 

(Hush  ma  honey  chile). 
He  woan  'sturb  yo',  nevah  feah, 
Xot  while  you'  ole  mammy's  neah. 

(Hush  ma  honey  chile). 

Whoa,  Donkey-Debbie! 
Go,  Donkey-Debbie! 
Doan  yo'  scar'  ma  chile. 

Donkey-Debbie's  awful  taU, 

(Hush  ma  honey  chile); 
See  him  when  de  shadders  fall, 

(Hush  ma  honey  chile). 
My!  his  yers  is  dreffle  long. 
An'  his  laigs  is  pow'ful  strong, 

(Hush  ma  honey  chile). 

So,  Donkey-Debbie! 
Slow,  Donkey-Debbie ! 
Doan  yo'  scar'  ma  chile. 

Donkey-Debbie's  ole  as  sin, 
(Hush  ma  honey  chile) ; 

Luck  goes  out  when  he  comes  in, 
(Hush  ma  honey  chile). 

Sho'  we  got  de  rabbit's  paw 

Xail  up  overneath  de  doh; 

Donkey-Debbie's  fooled  foh  sho', 
(Hush  ma  honey  chile). 

Whoa,  Donkev-Debble! 
Go.  Donkey-Debbie  1 
Doan  vo'  scar'  ma  chile. 


Social  Evolution  and  Advertising 


By  J.  D.  LOGAN 


Mr.  Logan  discovers  an  interesting  evolution  making 
for  higher  culture  in  trade 


i 

B 

(ORE  than  a  quarter-century 
ago  we  first  heard  of  the 
"New  Chemistry";  later  we 
heard  of  the  "New  Theol- 
ogy"; to-day  we  hear  of  the 
"New  Knowledge."  It  %^'ill,  however, 
surprise  many  to  learn  that  there  is  such 
a  thing  as  the  "New  Advertising."  And, 
in  view  of  their  experience  and  preju- 
dices, it  'nill  surprise  them  all  the  more 
to  learn  that  the  new  advertising  is  con- 
ceived and  applied  as  a  positive  efficient 
cause  in  social  evolution. 

By  this  it  is  not  meant  that  modem 
advertising  develops  trade  and  com- 
merce, and  keeps  the  world  a-monng. 
It  is  true  that  from  its  beginnings  in  the 
publicity  of  proprietar}-  medicines  to  our 
own  day,  modem  advertising  has  in- 
creased the  energies  of  men,  opened  new 
channels  of  trade,  transformed  the  meth- 
ods of  commerce,  estabhshed  innumer- 
able industrial  arts  and  crafts.  But  it 
is  conceivable  that  advertising  may  have 
done  all  this  service,  without  ha\'ing 
added  an  iota  to  the  spiritual  cultiue  of 
the  world,  without  ha\nng  changed  the 
ideals  or  the  structure  of  society.  In 
this  regard  we  may  consider  how  the 
matter  works  out  in  so  simple  a  case  as 
trade-marking  a  manufactured  article, 
say,  for  instance,  a  breakfast  food.  It 
is  not  long  since  those  of  us  who  are  in 
our  thirties  ate  for  breakfast  the  crudely 
ground  groat,  under  the  name  of  oat- 
meal porridge — the  Scotchman's  "par- 
ritch"  and  the  Yankee's  "mush."  The 
oatmeal  itself  from  which  the  food  was 
made  arrived  at  the  retailer's  in  bulk. 
Whose  it  was  and  whence  it  came  was 
not  even  thought  of  as  a  pertinent  ques- 
tion in  domestic  economy.  It  was  just 
oatmeal — nameless,  imidentifiable,  and  re- 
tailed to  the  purchaser  in  bulk,  with 
what   lack   of  cleanliness  and  what  loss 

330 


in  quality  and  w^holesomeness  we  may 
merely  surmise.  But  the  genius  who 
for  purely  business  reasons,  or  under 
social  and  legal  restrictions,  first  thought 
of  trade-marking  his  foodstuffs  served 
society  in  many  ways.  First,  he  created 
and  developed  several  industries  and 
arts — the  designing,  weaving  or  print- 
ing of  trade-marks,  the  manufacture  of 
sanitary  wrapping  papers  and  of  handy 
cartons.  Again,  he  decreased  the  awk- 
wardness and  slowness  in  handUng,  ship- 
ping or  deUvering  the  commodity,  with 
a  consequent  saWng  of  time  and  money 
to  the  manufacturer,  the  retailer  and 
the  purchaser.  Fiurther,  by  means  of 
mental  suggestion  through  the  trade- 
mark on  a  commodity,  he  increased  the 
demand  for  the  article  and  established  a 
standard  of  excellence.  The  manufac- 
turer thenceforward  must  enlarge  his 
output  and  maintain  the  standard  of 
quaUty  which  his  foodstuff  was  origin- 
ally knovNTi  to  possess.  A  trade-mark, 
or  the  exploiting  of  a  mere  name,  then, 
has  wTought  significant  commercial,  eco- 
nomic, hygienic  and  ethical  results  in 
society.  But  these,  may  have  been,  as 
in  all  likelihood  they  were,  the  outcome, 
in  the  first  instance,  of  quick  vat  seizing 
a  business  chance.  The  whole  may  have 
been  inspired  merely  by  the  desire  to 
make  money.  What  honesty  or  other 
moral  quality  was  involved  in  the  pro- 
cess may  have  been  selfishness  masquer- 
ading in  the  guise  of  disinterestedness. 
At  any  rate,  the  ser\'ice  to  society,  while 
undoubtedly  real,  is  in  no  sense  below 
the  surface  of  things,  and,  save  for  the 
incidental  benefits,  is  in  no  degree  spirit- 
ual. The  good,  in  short,  advertising 
thus  \'iewed  has  done  is  ephemeral,  sec- 
ondary and  unconscious. 

On  the  other  hand,  modem  advertis- 
ing,  though   it   began   as   a   commercial 


SOCIAL   EVOLUTION   AND    ADVERTISING 


331 


instrument,  in  literary  and  moral  qual- 
ity ranking  no  higher  than  the  machina- 
'  tions  of  the  patent  medicine  fakir,  has 
become — in  the  new  phase  yet  to  be  de- 
scribed— a  spiritual  force,  slowly,  but 
surely,  transforming  the  ideals  and  the 
structure  of  society.  Not  merely  by 
theory  or  doctrine,  but  by  deed  and 
practice,  it  is  changing  humanity  from 
competitive  into  non-competitive  society. 
In  general,  this  is  what  is  meant  in 
submitting  that  the  "new  advertising" 
is  conceived  and  applied  as  a  positive 
and  efficient  cause  in  social  evolution. 

I 

On  first  view  such  a  thesis  is  hardly 
creditable.  For  as  competition  is  the 
life  of  trade,  so  advertising  is  the  life  of 
competition.  If  advertising  does  any- 
thing at  all,  seemingly  it  ruthlessly  pro- 
motes wider  and  keener  competition. 
This  was  indeed  the  truth;  to-day,  how- 
ever, such  a  belief  is  either  a  survival 
or  the  result  of  imperfect  observation 
and  induction.  The  ideals  and  tenden- 
cies of  advertising  in  some  departments 
of  commerce  have  wholly  changed,  and 
in  others  are  rapidly  changing.  We 
may  note  a  few  of  the  general  and  super- 
ficial changes. 

First:  The  conception  of  the  function 
and  methods  of  advertising  has  become 
sublimated.     Formerly  it  was  conceived 
as  a  species  of  sensational  and  sophistic 
pleading    that    called    for    no    thorough 
knowledge,     intelligence,     literary     skill, 
good  taste  or  moral  integrity,  but  only 
for  totirs  de  force  in  vulgar  expression  of 
doubtful   fact.     Unfortunately    this    con- 
ception of  advertising  still  obtains  where 
we  might  reasonably  expect  better.     For 
the  most  part   (I  write  from  first-hand 
i  experience)  many  advertisements  are  pro- 
I  found  untruths,  conceived  and  construct- 
i  ed,  without  science  or  art,  to  deceive  and 
hypnotise  the  common  people.     On  the 
other  hand,   in   the   case   of   the   adver- 
tisements of  maniifactured  articles,  from 
textiles   to   automobiles,   the   advertising 
itself,    especially    as    it    appears    in    the 
literary  and  popular  magazines,  is  con- 
'  ceived  as  a  science  and  an  art,  and  is 
'  written  under  this  conception  by  men  of 
education    and   intelligence,    gifted    ^vith 


literary  skill  and  conscious  of  their  moral 
responsibility  to  the  common  weal.  So 
true,  indeed,  is  this  to-day,  that  the 
readers  of  the  better  class  of  popular 
magazines  turn  to  the  advertising  pages 
with  as  much  curiosity  and  attention  as 
to  the  strictly  literary  pages,  and  derive 
from  the  advertisements  considerable 
entertainment  and  instruction.  Perhaps 
it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  often  they 
are  more  entertaining  and  instructive 
than  the  literary  pages  as  such.  The 
slightest  examination  of  the  advertise- 
ments of  many  well-known  commodi- 
ties in  the  current  magazines  will  reveal 
the  cause.  The  advertisements  are  thor- 
oughly interesting,  because  they  embody 
in  an  eminent  degree  that  fine  good 
sense  which  is  the  psychological  and 
moral  basis  of  all  fine  art.  It  is  com- 
paratively easy  to  write  an  essay  on  Greek 
Metaphysics,  because  the  interest  in  the 
subject  is  special  and  esoteric,  the  pro- 
cesses expository  and  argumentative,  and 
the  space  allotted  for  treatment  prac- 
tically unhmited.  It  calls  for  knowl- 
edge, but  not  necessarily  for  literary 
skill;  it  will  be  read  in  spite  of  the  treat- 
ment. But  to  write  within  a  very  limited 
space  an  advertisement  of  textiles,  or 
foods,  or  furniture,  that  will  be  read  for 
its  own  sake,  that  will  interest,  inform, 
entertain,  or  point  a  moral,  and  do  so 
within  the  bounds  of  fact,  good  taste 
and  to  the  detriment  of  no  other  com- 
mercial enterprise,  to  do  this  requires 
no  mean  knowledge  of  men  and  things, 
no  small  gift  of  intelligence,  no  uncer- 
tain skill  in  literary  expression,  and  no 
lack  of  moral  strength. 

Advertising,  as  now  conceived,  is 
original  and  creative.  It  is  not  at  all 
too  much  to  say  that  in  America  the  men 
who  conceive  and  construct  it  are  those 
who  "in  any  other  country  would  fill 
places  in  the  church  or  state,  in  diplo- 
matic work  or  the  army,  and  who  in  any 
other  age  would  be  makers  of  history." 
Indeed,  they  are  (and  in  the  special  way 
yet  to  be  described  we  shall  see  how 
they  are)  already  makers  of  history. 
For  the  present  it  is  at  any  rate  not  top 
much  to  say  of  the  twentieth  century 
advertisement  viTiter,  that  his  psycho- 
logical processes  are  in  elemental  func- 


932 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


tion  identical  with  those  of  the  teacher, 
the  journalist,  the  man  of  letters  and  the 
artist.  For  him  advertising  means  not 
merely  the  constructing  of  an  announce- 
ment of  the  quaUties  and  prices  of  a 
commodity,  but  rather  the  publishing 
of  interesting  and  important  news,  the 
awakening  and  sustaining  in  the  mind 
and  imagination  of  the  pubUc  a  desir- 
able train  of  thought  and  feeling.  On 
the  intellectual  side,  advertising  is  the 
publishing  of  a  given  idea  with  such 
aptness  and  power  that  it  becomes  event- 
ually part  of  the  general  conscience. 

Now  what  is  to  be  said  of  the  moral 
processes  involved  in  modern  advertis- 
ing? These,  too,  are  as  human  and 
ideal  as  those  of  the  teacher,  man  of 
letters,  or  artist.  In  the  mind  of  the 
later  advertisement  writer,  a  thoroughly 
proper  advertisement  is  overtly  or  im- 
plicitly a  moral  force.  For  one  thing 
it  must  be  the  embodiment  of  truth. 
This  does  not  mean  that  it  must  state 
exact  fact,  or  not  tell  a  he.  It  means 
rather  that  the  advertisement  must  come 
from  one  who  believes  on  reasonable 
grounds  the  commodity  or  institution 
advertised  to  be  thoroughly  worthy  of 
what  is  said  about  it,  and  that  the  \\Titer 
must  express  in  the  advertisement  sin- 
cerity of  intention  and  a  positive  aim 
to  benefit  society.  No  man,  indeed,  who 
has  not  the  spirit  of  truth  in  him  can 
write  a  thoroughly  good  advertisement. 
He  may  simulate  its  outward  form  and 
method.  But  though  he  write  with  the 
pen  of  a  ready  writer,  and  never  so  clev- 
erly, in  the  end  he  shall  fail  to  convince 
the  pubUc  conscience  or  control  the 
public  will,  unless  he  thinks  the  truth 
and  expresses  it  \\'isely  in  what  he  writes. 
From  the  moral  recesses,  then,  of  a  man's 
being,  as  much  as  from  his  intellectual 
and  aesthetic  processes,  is  boni  the  knowl- 
edge and  the  art  which  create  thoroughly 
good  advertising. 

The  results  of  these  changes  in  the 
conception  of  the  function,  methods,  and 
psychological  bases  of  modem  advertis- 
ing are  noteworthy.  To-day  reputable 
psychologists,  economists,  sociologists, 
statisticians,  and  historians  are  busy 
investigating  its  origin,  its  data,  meth- 
ods, and  aims,  and  formulating  its  laws. 


fitting  it  for  a  place  in  the  department 
of  science.  Finally,  men  of  letters  (or 
at  least  men  of  thorough  education  and ' 
skill  in  literature  as  such)  are  engaged 
in  originating  and  writing  advertise- 
ments, not  merely  as  a  remunerative 
pastime  or  as  a  means  of  livehhood,  but 
seriously  as  a  profession  vdthin  the  de- 
partment of  letters,  quite  worthy  of  the 
ambition  and  energy  of  trained  and 
cultivated  minds.  Through  them  what 
was  originally  in  function  and  expression 
a  blatant,  \-ulgar  instrument  of  com- 
merce has  become  a  dignified  vehicle  of 
truth  and  a  trustworthy  social  servant. 

Before  we  pass  to  that  phase  of  mod- 
em advertising  which  has  its  basis  in  a 
definite  social  theor}-,  and  which  con- 
sciously aims  to  aflfect  social  evolution, 
it  is  worth  while  to  offer  some  empirical 
proof  of  the  justice  of  the  high  claims 
we  have  so  far  made  for  the  new  adver- 
tising. It  is  well,  however,  to  submit 
here  two  20th  Century  advertisements — 
one  in  the  old  spirit  and  one  in  the  new 
social  spirit. 

Under  the  caption  "An  hnpressive 
Informal  Showing  of  Beautiful  Spring 
Millinery  ^^  a  large  store  in  New  York 
City  had  the  follo\\'ing  dith}Tamb  on 
Spring  Hats  for  Women: 

"Unquestionably  one  of  the  most  interest- 
ing informal  displays  of  exquisite  hats  in 
New  York.  This  exposition  is  a  positive 
revelation.  It  is  a  splendid  surprise.  It  will 
delight  and  enthuse,  for  it  affords  you  a 
great  opportunity  to  buy  a  new  spring  hat 
at  much  less  than  you  would  have  to  pay  at 
some  exclusive  shop.  It  is  a  display  that 
will  compare  briUiantly  with  the  choicest 
popular  lines  in  New  York.  There  are  hats 
of  every  imaginable  size,  shape  and  effect. 
Combinations  both  as  to  colour  and  material 
that  are  simply  irresistible.  Hats  that  are 
gems  Hats  that  owe  their  inspiration  to  the 
Empire  Period.  Hats  of  striking  originality. 
Paris  hats  daringly  .\mericanised.  Styles 
that  are  beautiful ;  that  are  radically  different 
from  those  of  last  year.  There  is  a  wonder- 
ful variety  of  these  hats,  and  spring  blooms 
sunnily  in  them.  Fresh  as  newly  plucked 
roses;  doubly  beautiful;  intensely  becoming. 
Daintily  trimmed  with  flowers,  ribbons, 
wings  and  malines.  In  no  other  store  in 
New  York  is  there  a  better,  more  delightful 
showing." 

This  is  supposed  to  be  strong  adver- 
tising. You  will  be  told  that  it  is  so 
because    it    draws    immense    throngs    of 


SOCIAL   EVOLUTION   AND   ADVERTISING 


333 


people  and  "sells  the  goods."  It  con- 
tains nothing  but  a  series  of  overcoloured 
statements  of  doubtful  fact.  ,  It  sells 
the  goods.  Yet  the  merchant  who  per- 
mits his  advertising  merely  to  sell  goods, 
and  at  the  expense  of  the  public  conscience, 
will  some  day  not  sell  goods  at  all.  Such 
stuff  on  the  literary  side,  to  say  nothing 
worse  about  it,  ranks  with  the  .senseless 
utterances  of  the  old-time  darky  preach- 
er, and  in  our  day  with  the  specious  and 
insincere  rhetoric  of  the  political  spell- 
binder. On  the  moral  side,  it  is  thor- 
oughly false  and  harmful.  It  breeds 
vulgarity,  hypnotises  the  imagination 
and  the  will,  fosters  covetousness,  envy, 
hatred,  and  underhand  competition.  And 
in  the  total  social  aspect  it  is  worse  than 
wasted  energy.  For  it  abets  the  spirit 
of  strife  from  the  thrall  of  which  the 
home,  the  school,  the  church  and  the 
State  are,  each  in  its  own  way  and  de- 
gree, working  to  deliver  us. 

Contrast  now,  in  every  quahty,  with 
the  foregoing  advertisement  the  fol- 
lowing announcement,  under  the  cap- 
tion, '"r/?e  Cost  of  //": 

"In  a  board  walk  the  largest  item  of  ex- 
pense is  the  lumber.  In  a  plain  wall  the 
-ctone  is  the  chief  cost ;  in  a  piece  of  classic 
.statuary  the  cost  of  the  stone  is  hardly 
reckoned.  This  principle,  in  a  certain  de- 
gree, applies  to  the  making  of  fine  varnish. 
We  do  not  pretend  that  we  put  from  two  to 
five  dollars'  worth  of  material  into  each  liquid 
gallon,  but  we  do  put  in  the  scientific  knowl- 
edge and  the  expert  skill  and  the  long-con- 
tinued care  which  no  ordinary  varnish  con- 
tains. If  you  v.'ish  to  get  rich  music  or  a 
treasure  of  the  sculptor's  art,  or  a  job  of 
varnishing  that  will  be  satisfactory,  you 
must  pay  for  something  more  than  the  raw- 
material." 

This  is  a  well-written,  sensible,  sin- 
cere, truthful,  interesting  and  social 
advertisement.  Its  aim  is  to  estabhsh 
a  reasonable  ideal  in  the  mind  of  one 
who  may  want  to  purchase  an  article 
in  which  fine  varnish  is  a  significant  ele- 
ment, as  in  an  expensive  piano  or  an 
automobile.  An  advertisement  of  this 
sort  serves  society  in  a  double  way.  The 
appreciation  given  the  manufacturer  for 
his  efforts  to  supply  the  world  with  a 
high-grade  quality  of  goods  fixes  a  stand- 
ard of  worth  as  his  own  ideal  and  increases 
the  demand  for  worth}-  goods  by  causing 


the  purchaser  to  be  solicitous  about  the 
varnish  itself.  Nothing  could  be  more 
genuinely  moral,  non-competitive  and 
social  than  this  advertisement,  when  a 
contrary  spirit  was  not  only  possible, 
but  would  sell  the  goods,  worthy  or  not 
worthy,  and  would  have  been  commend- 
ed as  smart  business. 

Ill 

We  may  now  pass  to  the  latest  phase 
of  modem  advertising,  a  phase  which  is 
hardly  more  than  begun,  which  has  its 
basis  in  a  definite  social  theory,  and 
which  aims  to  be  constructive.  We 
must  not,  however,  confound  the  con- 
structive phase  of  the  new  advertising 
with  its  general  performances  in  social 
service.  It  is  true  that  largely  to  the 
new  advertising  we  owe  advances  in 
industrial  arts  and  commercial  methods. 
To  it  we  are  indebted  also  for  advances 
in  pubhc  utilities  and  domestic  economy, 
sanitary  foods,  clothing,  and  housing, 
improved  highw^ays,  and  mail  service 
and  educational  methods  and  appH- 
ances.  Finally,  to  the  new  advertising 
we  owe  significant  changes — perhaps 
not  always  advances — in  thought  and 
feehng,  in  language  and  customs.  But 
these  services,  while  real  and  desirable, 
are  not  embraced  within  the  conspectus 
of  advertising,  are  not  consciously  pro- 
moted by  it  for  their  own  sake,  altruis- 
tically. They  are  the  accidents  of  com- 
petitive commercial  enterprise  which  by 
persistent  advertising  first  creates  the 
demand  for  what  it  would  supply,  that 
it  may  reward  itself  abundantly.  ^ 

To  say  this  does  not  derogate  from 
the  manliness  of  the  advertisers'  char- 
acter or  from  the  reasonableness  of  their 
business  ideal.  The  old  advertising  is 
pathological;  the  later  advertising  is 
sane;  both  are  equally  strenuous.  The 
old  advertising  had  its  origin  in  fear  and 
its  impetus  in  greed.  It  sprang  from 
men  who  had  business  sense  and  energy, 
but  who  aimed  by  pathological  methods 
of  persuasion  to  seduce  possible  pur- 
chasers to  prefer  and  buy  A's  goods 
rather  than  B's,  whether  the  commodity 
was  really  preferable  or  really  needed. 
The  later  advertising  sprang  from  men 
who  had  business  sense  and  energy,  but 


S34 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


who  had  also  good  taste  and  who  aimed 
to  give  plain  and  competent  publicity  to 
commodities  of  honest  worth.  They 
worked  on  the  theory  that  the  energy 
spent  in  the  pathological  advertising,  if 
in  the  commercial  plane  not  wholly 
waste,  were  better  spent  in  estabhshing 
thorough  merit  in  the  commodities  ad- 
vertised. In  other  words,  they  believed 
and  acted  on  the  belief  that  meritorious 
goods,  if  justly  and  competently  adver- 
tised, will  abundantly  sell  themselves. 
And  so,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  happens. 
The  pathological  advertising,  however, 
is  doomed.  Already  its  death  is  prac- 
tically compassed  by  the  men  who  with 
scientific  knowledge  and  literary  skill  are 
now  applying  to  the  substance,  to  the  form, 
and  to  the  method  of  the  later  publicity 
the  so-called  Social  Theory  of  Advertising. 
These  men  base  their  theory  and 
practice  on  an  ethical  interpretation  of 
one  of  the  chief  doctrines  of  evolutionary 
science.  With  Darwin,  Spencer,  Hux- 
ley, and  Kidd,  they  agree  that  all  the 
world  processes  are  remorseless.  But 
they  believe  that  the  survival  of  the  fit- 
test is  only  a  formula  for  stating  in 
terms  of  mechanics  and  biolog>'  a  phase 
of  a  universal  ideal,  namely,  the  inevit- 
ableness  of  -worth  or  excellence.  Might 
and  competition  are  in  their  time,  place, 
and  fimction  necessary  and  excellent, 
though  indeed  tragical.  So,  too,  love, 
friendliness,  humane  and  just  rivalry-  in 
occupation,  are  in  their  time,  place  and 
function  necessan,',  and  in  the  end  much 
more  excellent.  Let,  then,  they  say,  the 
world  processes,  cosmic  and  social,  be, 
if  they  will,  remorseless,  tragical,  still 
men  may  see  to  it  that  these  processes 
shall  nevertheless  be  also  free,  human, 
and  spiritual.  Others  had  fixed  their 
attention  on  the  obvious  remorselessness 
of  things  as  they  are.  They  did  not  see 
in  the  historic  process  the  birth-throes 
of  a  pregnant  social  ideal.  Things  as 
they  are,  they  said,  are  as  they  shall  be, 
as  they  ought  to  be,  and  in  the  commer- 
cial   consciousness    this    took    the    form 


of  a  mighty  system  of  inhuman,  ingen- 
ious, unscrupulous,  and  ruthless  com- 
petition. •  The  new  band  of  advertis- 
ers, on  the  other  hand,  are  the  first,  by 
actual  practice  and  success  in  result,  to 
bring  home  to  the  general  social  con- 
sciousness, through  the  commercial  con- 
sciousness, the  idea  that  society  is  under 
no  inward  necessity  to  be  competitive  and 
has  no  moral  right  to  he  competitive.  And 
this  doctrine,  as  we  said,  has  its  basis 
in  the  belief  that  the  survival  of  the  fit- 
test means,  even  in  the  commercial 
plane,  the  ultimate  triumph  of  worth. 
If  nature  seemingly  overstocks  the  world 
with  human  beings  struggling  for  life  and 
possessions,  then  it  is  the  duty  of  all  to 
establish  standards  of  worth  as  the  most 
excellent  thing  in  what  one  conceives, 
produces,  or  markets,  and  leave  the  re- 
sult to  nature.  Despite  the  remorse- 
lessness of  things  as  they  are,  the  God  of 
Worth  wiU  take  care  of  his  own. 

This  does  not  negate  good  business 
sense,  or  reduce  commercial  enterprise 
to  pure  philanthropy;  it  implies  only 
the  socialising  of  the  conspectus  of  ad- 
vertising. Rivalr\'  and  endless  energy' 
must  still  exist  in  the  commercial  plane. 
But  what  rivalry  may  exist  under  the 
new  movement  is  not  in  any  sense  com- 
petitive; it  is  not  the  offspring  of  any  un- 
social obsession,  such  as  fear,  envy,  or 
avarice.  There  shall  be  only  the  rivalry 
of  intrinsic  worths  themselves  and  of 
the  desire  to  serve  society  disinterestedly 
through  sane  and  truthful  publicity.  By 
these  high  aims  and  human  methods  in 
the  commercial  plane,  the  new  advertis- 
ing is  a  positive  efficient  cause  in  social 
evolution.  It  estabhshes  and  makes  real 
by  practice  a  standard  of  worth  as  the 
end  and  law  of  commercial  conduct  and 
enterprise.  It  denies  the  necessity  and 
efficacy  of  competition.  It  fosters  truth, 
sincerity,  honesty,  and  justice.  And  so 
through  the  foolishness  of  the  new  ad- 
vertising it  has  pleased  the  power  that 
makes  for  righteousness  to  reassert  in 
societv  the  ideal  of  reason. 


The  Parting  of  the  Ways 


By  L.  M.  MONTGOMERY 


Showing  that  slight,  almost  unnoticeable  things  are  some- 
times important  milestones  in  the  pathway  of  life 


RS.  LONGWORTH  crossed 
the  hotel  piazza,  descended 
the  steps,  and  walked  out  of 
sight  down  the  shore  road 
with  all  the  grace  of  motion 
that  lent  distinction  to  her  slightest 
movement.  Her  eyes  were  very  bright, 
and  an  unusual  flush  stained  the  pallor 
of  her  cheek.  Two  men  who  were 
lounging  in  one  corner  of  the  hotel  piazza 
looked  admiringly  after  her. 

"She  is  a  beautiful  woman,"  said  one. 

"Wasn't  there  some  talk  about  Mrs. 
LongAvorth  and  Cunningham  last  winter?" 
asked  the  other. 

"Yes.  They  were  much  together. 
Still,  there  may  have  been  nothing  wTong. 
She  was  old  Judge  Carmody's  daughter, 
you  know.  Longworth  got  Carmody 
under  his  thumb  in  money  matters  and 
put  the  screws  on.  They  say  he  made 
Carmody 's  daughter  the  price  of  the  old 
man's  redemption.  The  girl  herself  was 
a  mere  child.  I  shall  never  forget  her 
face  on  her  wedding  day.  But  she's 
been  plucky  since  then,  I  must  say.  If 
she  has  suffered,  she  hasn't  shown  it.  I 
don't  suppose  Longworth  ever  ill-treats 
her.  He  isn't  that  sort.  He's  simply  a 
grovelling  cad — that's  all.  Nobody  would 
sympathise  much  with  the  poor  devil  if 
his  wife  did  run  off  with  Cunningham." 

Meanwhile,  Beatrice  Longw^orth  walked 
quickly  down  the  shore  road,  her  white 
skirt  brushing  over  the  crisp  golden 
grasses  by  the  way.  In  a  sunny  hollow 
among  the  sandhills  she  came  upon 
Stephen  Gordon,  sprawled  out  luxiu^i- 
ously  in  the  warm,  sea-smelling  grasses. 
The  youth  sprang  to  his  feet  at  sight  of 
her,  and  his  big  brown  eyes  kindled  to 
a  glow. 

Mrs.  Longworth  smiled  to  him.  They 
had  been  great  friends  all  summer.  He 
was  a  lanky,  overgrown  lad  of  fifteen  or 

335 


sixteen,  odd  and  shy  and  dreamy,  scarce- 
ly possessing  a  speaking  acquaintance 
with  others  ot  the  hotel.  But  he  and 
Mrs.  Longworth  had  been  congenial 
from  their  first  meeting.  In  many  ways, 
he  was  far  older  than  his  years,  but  there 
was  a  certain  inerradicable  boyishness 
about  him  to  which  her  heart  warmed. 

"You  are  the  very  person  I  was  just 
going  in  search  of.  I've  news  to  tell. 
Sit  down." 

He  spoke  eagerly,  patting  the  big  gray 
boulder  beside  him  with  his  slim,  brown 
hand.  For  a  moment  Beatrice  hesi- 
tated. She  wanted  to  be  alone  just  then. 
But  his  clever,  homely  face  was  so  ap- 
pealing that  she  yielded  and  sat  down. 

Stephen  flung  himself  down  again  con- 
tentedly in  the  grasses  at  her  feet,  pil- 
lowing his  chin  in  his  palms  and  looking 
up  at  her,  adoringly. 

"You  are  so  beautiful,  dear  lady.  I 
love  to  look  at  you.  Will  you  tilt  that 
hat  a  little  more  over  the  left  eye-brow  ? 
Yes — so — some  day  I  shall  paint  you." 

His  tone  and  manner  were  all  simplicity. 

"When  you  are  a  great  artist,"  said 
Beatrice,  indulgently. 

He  nodded. 

"Yes,  I  mean  to  be  that.  I've  told 
you  all  my  dreams,  you  know.  Now  for 
my  news.  I'm  going  away  to-morrow. 
I  had  a  telegram  from  father  to-day." 

He  drew  the  message  from  his  pocket 
and  flourished  it  up  at  her. 

"I'm  to  join  him  in  Europe  at  once. 
He  is  in  Rome.  Think  of  it — in  Rome! 
I'm  to  go  on  with  my  art  studies  there. 
And  I  leave  to-morrow." 

"I'm  glad — and  I'm  sorry — and  you 
know  which  is  which,"  said  Beatrice, 
patting  the  shaggy  brown  head.  "I 
shall  miss  you  dreadfully,  Stephen." 

"We  have  been  splendid  chums,  haven't 
we?"  he  said,  eagerly. 


336 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


Suddenly  his  face  changed.  He  crept 
nearer  to  her,  and  bowed  his  head  until 
his  lips  almost  touched  the  hem  of  her 
dress. 

"I'm  glad  you  came  down  to-day,"  he 
went  on  in  a  low,  diffident  voice.  "I  want 
to  tell  you  something,  and  I  can  tell  it 
better  here.  I  couldn't  go  away  without 
thanking  you.  I'll  make  a  mess  of  it — 
I  can  never  explain  things.  But  you've 
been  so  much  to  me — you  mean  so  much 
to  me.  You've  made  me  believe  in 
things  I  never  believed  in  before.  You 
— you — I  know  now  that  there  is  such 
a  thing  as  a  good  woman,  a  woman  who 
could  make  a  man  better,  just  because 
he  breathed  the  same  air  with  her." 

He  paused  for  a  moment;  then  went 
on  in  a  still  lower  tone: 

"It's  hard  when  a  fellow  can't  speak 
of  his  mother  because  he  can't  say  any- 
thing good  of  her,  isn't  it?  My  mother 
wasn't  a  good  woman.  When  I  was 
eight  years  old  she  went  away  with  a 
scoundrel.  It  broke  father's  heart.  No-- 
body  thought  I  understood,  I  was  such 
a  little  fellow.  But  I  did.  I  heard  them 
talking.  I  knew  she  had  brought  shame 
and  disgrace  on  herself  and  us.  And  I 
had  loved  her  so!  Then,  somehow,  as 
I  grew  up,  it  was  my  misfortune  that  all 
the  women  I  had  to  do  with  were  mean 
and  base.  They  were  hirelings,  and  I 
hated  and  feared  them.  There  was  an 
aunt  of  mine — she  tried  to  be  good  to 
me  in  her  way.  But  she  told  me  a  lie, 
and  I  never  cared  for  her  after  I  found 
it  out.  And  then,  father — we  loved  each 
other  and  were  good  chums.  But  he 
didn't  believe  in  much  either.  He  was 
bitter,  you  know.  He  said  all  women 
were  alike.  I  grew  up  with  that  no- 
tion. I  didn't  care  much  for  anything — 
nothing  seemed  worth  while.  Then  I 
came  here  and  met  you." 

He  paused  again.  Beatrice  had  list- 
ened with  a  gray  look  on  her  face.  It 
would  have  startled  him  had  he  glanced 
up,  but  he  did  not,  and  after  a  moment's 
silence  the  halting  boyish  voice  went  on: 

"You  have  changed  everything  for 
me.  I  was  nothing  but  a  clod  before. 
You  are  not  the  mother  of  my  body,  but 
you  are  of  my  soul.  It  was  bom  of  you. 
I  shall  always  love  and  reverence  you  for 


it.  You  will  always  be  my  ideal.  If  I 
ever  do  anything  worth  while  it  will  be 
because  of  you.  In  everything  I  shall 
ever  attempt  I  shall  try  to  do  it  as  if  you 
were  to  pass  judgment  upon  it.  You 
will  be  a  lifelong  inspiration  to  me.  Oh, 
I  am  bungling  this!  I  can't  tell  you 
what  I  feel — you  are  so  pvu"e,  so  good, 
so  noble  1  I  shall  reverence  all  women 
for  your  sake  henceforth." 

"And  if,"  said  Beatrice,  in  a  very  low 
voice,  "if  I  were  false  to  yoiu-  ideal  of 
me — if  I  were  to  do  anything  that  would 
destroy  your  faith  in  me— something 
weak  or  wicked — " 

"But  you  couldn't,"  he  interrupted, 
flinging  up  his  head  and  looking  at  her 
with  his  great  dog-like  eyes,  "you 
couldn't!" 

"But  if  I  could?"  she  persisted,  gen- 
tly, "and  if  I  did— what  then?" 

"I  should  hate  you,"  he  said,  passion- 
ately. "You  would  be  worse  than  a 
murderess.  You  would  kill  every  good 
impulse  and  belief  in  me.  I  would  never 
trust  anything  or  anybody  again — but 
there,"  he  added,  his  voice  once  more 
growing  tender,  "you  will  never  fail  me, 
I  feel  sure  of  that." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Beatrice,  almost 
in  a  whisper.  "Thank  you,"  she  re- 
peated, after  a  moment.  She  stood  up 
and  held  out  her  hand.  '  'I  think  I  must 
go  now.  Good-bye,  dear  laddie.  Write 
to  me  from  Rome.  I  shall  always  be 
glad  to  hear  from  you  wherever  you  are. 
And — and — I  shall  always  try  to  live  up 
to  yoUr  ideal  of  me.  Stephen.'" 

He  sprang  to  his  feet  and  took  her 
hand,  lifting  it  to  his  lips  with  boyish 
reverence.  "I  know  that,"  he  said, 
slowly.     "Good-bye,  my  sweet  lady." 

When  Mrs.  Longworth  found  herself 
in  her  room  again,  she  unlocked  her' 
desk  and  took  out  a  letter.  It  was  ad- 
dressed to  Mr.  Maurice  Cunningham. 
She  slowly  tore  it  twice  across,  laid  the 
fragments  on  a  tray,  and  touched  them 
with  a  lighted  match.  As  they  blazed 
up  one  Hne  came  out  in  writhing  redness 
across  the  page:  "I  \vill  go  away  with 
you  as  you  ask."  Then  it  crumbledi 
into  gray  ashes. 

She  drew  a  long  breath  and  hid  heri| 
face  in  her  hands. 


DEAD    HORSE    GULCH,    WHERE    MUCH    HARDSHIP    WAS    EXDURED.       THE    GULCH    IS    SEEN 
FAR    BELOW   THE    WINDING   RAILWAY 


The  Gateway  of  the  North 


By  HIRAM  A.  CODY 


How  lust  for  gold  led  to  stupendous  hardships  and  great  endurance 
in  the  making  of  a  highway  to  the  Klondyke 


"Portal  that  leads  to  an  enchanted  land 
Of  cities,  forests,  fields  of  gold, 
Vast  tundras,  lordly  summits,  touched  with 
snow."' 

HEN  the  great  gold  dis- 
coveries in  the  Klondyke 
thrilled  the  whole  world  and 
thousands  of  people  pressed 
into  the  country,  suffering 
untold  hardships,  many  were  the  schemes 
]»kinned  for  transferring  freight  over  the 
mountain  passes  and  down  the  Yukon 
Ri\er.     Steam  motors,  traction  sleds,  and 

3—337 


railless  locomotives  were  almos';  as  numer- 
ous as  the  stars.  One  man,  who  had  no 
knowledge  of  freighting  and  had  never 
been  near  the  Yukon  River,  invented  a 
machine  -with  cog  wheels  with  a  treadmill 
behind  to  rtm  on  the  ice.  He  imagined 
the  river  was  as  smooth  as  a  skating  rink, 
and  knew  nothing  of  the  jammed  and 
t\nsted  piles  of  ice  which  in  winter  mark 
every  foot  of  the  way.  -\nother  invented 
a  machine  even  more  cumbrous  and 
ridiculous,  but  this  contrivance  got  no 
further  than  Dyea,  for  when  the  inventor 


338 


THE    CANADIAN    .MAGAZINE 


looked  upon  the  frowning  Chilkoot  Pass 
he  took  the  first  boat  for  Seattle  and 
never  returned. 

When  the  gold  fever  was  at  its  height, 
and  all  sorts  of  wild  schemes  were  being 
daily  put  forth,  the  AMiite  Pass  and 
Yukon  Railway  Company  looked  around 
for  the  best  route  for  the  proposed  rail- 
road. Many  surveys  were  made  and  the 
whole  contour  of  the  country  carefully 
considered. 

Stretching  away  from  Skagway,  on  the 
Lvnn  Canal,  was  the  famous  White  Pass 
route  over  which  thousands  of  people 
passed  to  the  gold  fields.  In  1887  Mr. 
Ogilvie,  who  was  sent  out  by  the  Honour- 
able Thomas  White,  then  ^linister  of  the 
Interior,  for  the  exploration  of  the  country 
drained  by  the  Yukon  River,  heard  of  a 
low  pass  which  led  to  the  head  waters  of 
that  mighty  stream.  The  Chilkat  In- 
dians professed  to  know  nothing  of  the 
way,  wishing,  no  doubt,  to  keep  it  a 
secret  for  trading  purposes  with  the  In- 
dians along  the  Yukon  River.  After 
some  difficulty  a  Tagish  Indian  was  ob- 
tained who  knew  the  trail,  and  guided 
Captain  Moore  over  the  summit,  which 
was  then  named  by  Mr.  Ogilvie  the 
"White  Pass,"  in  honour  of  the  Minister 


of  the  Interior.  This  was  the  route 
finally  settled  upon  by  the  White  Pass 
and  Yukon  Railway  Company  when  in 
i8g8  they  began  the  building  of  that 
narrow-gauge  road  which  has  become 
so  famous. 

It  was  a  great  engineering  feat,  worthy 
to  be  classed  with  the  celebrated  labours 
of  Hercules.  On  'the  seventh  of  July, 
1897,  the  first  pack  train  started  from 
Skagway  over  the  \\"hite  Pass  trail  to 
Lake  Bennett,  and  on  the  same  date  one 
year  later  the  White  Pass  and  Yukon 
Railway  Company  ran  its  first  locomotive 
through  Skagway's  central  thoroughfare. 

The  first  fifteen  miles  of  the  road  rises 
to  an  altitude  of  nearly  three  thousand 
feet,  winding  up  and  around  the  stone- 
walled confines  of  the  Skagway  \'alley. 
On  the  old  trail  there  was  the  "White 
Pass  City,"  where  thousands  of  packers 
rested  in  their  terrible  cHmb  of  1897. 
Above  the  remains  of  the  old  resting-place 
the  strenuous  workmen  carved  the  road 
into  the  mountain  side  along  a  high  bluff, 
whilst  far  below,  the  men  who  were  work- 
ing on  the  same  line  appeared  like  so 
many  dots,  and  the  houses  of  the  deserted 
resting-place  Hke  children's  toys. 

How  foolhardv  the  whole  work   must 


P.\SSE.\r.ERS    .\.\D    M.\IL   ON    WHITE    P.-VSS    AND    YUKON    WINTER    ST.\r,E    ROUTE, 
HE.\DI.\G    FOR    DAWSON    CITY,    320   MILES   AWAY 


rm:  (jateway  of  tuk  nori^ii 


.^5-50 


SWINGING    INTO    WHITEHUKSE,    VIKOX    TERRITORY,    WITH    A    LOAD    OF    GOLD-SEEKERS 


have  seemed  to  an  ordinary  onlooker  I 
But  the  engineers  knew  their  work. 
Thousands  of  tons  of  powder  were  used, 
an  army  of  workmen  employed,  and 
millions  of  dollars  poured  out  in  the 
construction  of  that  road,  and  yet,  with- 
out the  brains  of  those  great  engineers, 
the  w^ork  would  have  been  in  vain. 

Up,  steadily  up,  the  road  forced  its 
sinuous  way,  passing  along  the  side  of 
a  sheer  wall  of  rock,  from  which  a  splendid 
view  was  obtained  down  the  valley  to 
Skagway  and  the  waters  of  the  Lynn 
Canal ;  whilst  away  to  the  westward 
towards  Dyea,  great  snow-capped  peaks 
could  be  seen,  bleak,  rugged,  and  grand. 

At  the  summit,  a  distance  of  twenty- 
one   miles,   an    altitude   of   almost   three 


thousand  feet  was  reached,  and  then 
the  road  began  to  dip  on  the  other  side. 
Across  that  wind-swept  region,  where  in 
winter  the  snow  piles  like  mountains,  the 
workmen  stretched,  week  after .  week, 
those  two  steel  bands  till  the  silver  sheen 
of  Lake  Bennett  burst  into  view.  And 
there,  on  the  border  of  that  memorable 
sheet  of  water,  those  toil-wom  men  paused 
for  a  time  to  indulge  in  a  well-earned 
celebration — a  celebration  which  is  full 
of  interest  for  us  to-day. 

Bennett  was  beautifully  situated  on 
the  border  of  the  lake,  which  received  its 
name  in  1883  from  Lieutenant  Schwatka, 
oT  the  United  States  army,  in  honour 
of  Mr.  James  Gordon  Bennett,  of  the 
Xew    York    Herald.     This   place  at  the 


340 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


present  time  is  almost  deserted,  but,  in 
May,  1898,  the  people  in  and  around 
Bennett  numbered  twenty-five  thousand. 
It  was  the  central  point  for  gold-seekers 
who  travelled  over  the  Chilkoot  and 
A\'hite  Pass  trails.  From  one  hundred 
to  one  thousand  tons  of  supplies 
were  daily  shipped  into  the  interior 
of  the  country  through  this  point,  and  it 
is  estimated  that  as  many  pounds  of  gold 
were  taken  out.  There  were  two  banks, 
one  newspaper,  sixteen  hotels  and  res- 
taurants, ten  general  stores,  two  saw- 
mills, three  physicians,  seven  churches, 
and  two  saloons. 

!►  -  This  was  the  to\A"n  which,  on  July  the 
6th,  1889,  arrayed  itself  in  hoHday  attire 
to  celebrate  the  driving  of  the  golden 
spike  which  completed  the  road  from 
Skagway  to  Bennett.  Carloads  of  ex- 
cursionists came  from  the  coast  to  view 
the  ceremony,  which  was  most  imposing. 
From  the  steel  track  to  the  water's  edge 
the  carts  of  the  Red  Line  Transportation 
Company  were  drawn  up  four  tier  deep, 
whilst  on  the  lake,  forming  a  splendid 
background,  floated  numerous  steam- 
boats. Not  without  reason  was  this 
arrangement,  for  the  impressive  act  signi- 
fied that  the  connecting  link  was  forged 
which  united  Skagway  with  St.  Michael's, 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Yukon  River,  over 


three  thousand  miles  away.  Since  then 
over  that  unbroken  Une  multitudes  of 
people  have  passed,  and  thousands  of 
tons  of  freight  carried  to  all  parts  of  the 
countrw  But  the  glory  of  Bennett  was 
soon  to  depart,  for  the  tide  of  progress 
swept  on,  and  the  once  prosperous  place 
was  left  desolate  and  forsaken,  a  city 
without  inhabitant. 

The  building  of  the  extension  to  White- 
horse  was  less  difficult.  The  country 
was  not  so  rugged,  and  the  course  lay 
past  many  lakes,  over  creeks  and  rivers, 
through  woods  and  fens,  into  lowlands 
covered  with  poplars,  wild  fruit,  and 
flowers,  and  through  a  meadowy,  swampy 
country  till  Whitehorse  was  reached. 
Yet  there  were  many  interesting  problems 
for  the  engineers  to  face  during  the  build- 
ing of  this  portion  of  the  road.  One  is 
significant.  A  lake  of  considerable  size 
threw  its  sheet  of  water  as  a  barrier  across 
the  way.  It  was  proposed  to  drain  it,  and 
when  the  work  was  partly  completed,  the 
clay  soil  gave  way  with  a  mighty  rush, 
and  the  lake,  confined  for  ages,  burst  forth 
glad  of  its  freedom,  carrying  e\erything 
before  it  into  the  Watson  River,  and  now 
the  huge  basin  is  seen  with  clay-cracked 
sides,  through  which  a  little  stream  winds 
its  devious  way.  Such  speed  was  made 
with  this  portion  of  the  road  that  on  July 


A   GLIMPSE    OF    THE   FAMOUS   LAKE    BENNETT — THIRTY    MILES    LONG;     THREE    MILES 
•mOE.      ELEVATION,   2,150   FEET   ABOVE    THE   SEA 


THE    GATEWAY    OF   THE    NORTH 


;ui 


A    DESERTED    CITY 

Bennett,  which  once  had  a  population  of  2.S,000,  has  now  only  a  few  employees  of  the  White  Pass  and 
Yukon  Railway.      The  church  and  house  in  the  background  are  stripped  and  bare 


the  30th,  1900,  the  first  passenger  train 
ran  from  Skagway  to  Whitehorse,  a  dis- 
tance of  one  hundred  and  ten  miles. 
Since  then,  the  latter  town  has  been  the 
terminus,  and  all  passengers  and  goods 
bound  for  the  interior  of  the  country  are 
transferred,  in  summer  to  the  fine  river 
boats  of  the  company,  and  in  winter  to 
the  comfortable  sleighs  which  ply  between 
Dawson  and  Whitehorse. 

\A'hitehorse  was  at  first  but  a  very 
small  camp  called  "Closeleigh,"  after 
the  Close  Bros.,  of  Chicago,  stockholders 
of  the  railroad.  The  experiment  of  the 
name  was  a  bad  one,  and  later.  April  the 
2ist,  igoo,  the  company  officially  announc- 
ed that  the  name  henceforth  would  be  the 
"old  one,  well  known  on  two  continents — 
'White  Horse.'" 

Too  much  credit  cannot  be  given  to  one 
man,  Michael  J.  Heney,  the  contractor 
and  physical  constructor  of  the  famous 
line.  For  two-thirds  of  its  way  it  is  the 
most  costly  road  in  America,  and  it  was 
by  the  expenditure  of  millions,  and  the 
imtold  energy  of  an  army  of  men,  horses 
and  mules,  and  thousands  of  tons  of  pow- 
der, that  the  highway  was  blasted  and 
forced  through  the  stem  defiles  to  the 
Yukon  basin.     Through  the  blizzards  of 


winter,  the  rains  and  summer  days  of 
sunshine  and  dust,  Michael  Heney  and 
his  men  forced  their  way.  The  follow- 
ing is  characteristic  of  the  many  stories 
told  of  the  building  of  the  road : 

Financially  the  road  has  been  a  great 
success,  and  it  is  estimated  that  during 
the  first  year  after  it  was  built  from 
Skagway  to  Bennett  it  paid  for  the  whole 
cost  of  construction.  The  charge  for 
travel,  twenty  cents  per  mile,  is  considered 
very  high.  Freight  is  in  the  same  pro- 
portion, though  great  reductions  have 
been  made  in  the  latter  since  the  road  was 
built.  During  the  year  1904  almost 
twelve  thousand  passengers  were  carried 
over  the  road,  and  over  thirty  thousand 
tons  of  freight.  The  gross  earnings  were 
nine  hundred  and  ninety-one  thousand 
dollars,  and  the  operating  expenses  five 
hundred  and  fifty-one  thousand. 

The  furious  storms  of  winter  mihtate 
against  the  good  working  of  the  road. 
On  the  summit,  especially,  for  weeks  at  a 
time  it  has  been  impossible  to  clear  the 
track,  and  the  rotary  snow-plow  with 
three  or  four  engines  plunging  its  way 
through  vast  drifts  is  a  magnificent  spec- 
tacle, though  to  the  men  working  the  plow 
great  danger  is  often  experienced.     Du*-- 


34^2 


THE    CANADIAN    MACIAZINE 


ing  the  hea\-}'  storms  of  1906  a  snow-slide 
struck  a  seventy-ton  rotary  and  sent  it 
rolling  dowTi  the  mountain  side  with  the 
crew  inside,  all  of  whom  escaped  as  if  by 
a  miracle,  though  much  bruised.  The 
plow  was  caught  b}-  a  bench  thirty  feet 
below  the  track,  where  it  remained  bottom 
side  up,  buried  in  the  snow. 

In  the  early  days  of  the  road,  when  the 
rotary  surged  through  after  a  heaw  fall 
of  snow,  it  would  be  followed  by  many 
dog  teams  makinsr  for  the  interior  over 


Tagish  Lake,  and  Windy  Arm,  to  Conrad, 
a  distance  of  twelve  miles.  A  second 
from  Log  Cabin  station,  on  the  main 
line  of  the  White  Pass  and  Yukon  Railway, 
above  Lake  Bennett  by  way  of  Tutshi 
Lake  to  Windy  Arm. 

Should  Conrad  prove  to  be  an  important 
mining  centre  the  branch  line  will  no 
doubt  be  soon  constructed,  which  can 
be  done  with  little  difficulty. 

^\'hat  the  future  of  the  ^^■hite  Pass  and 
Yukon  Railwav  will  be  we  can  onlv  con- 


THE    OLD    WOODEX    TRAMWAY,   USED    FOR    CARRYING    FREIGHT    AROUXD    THE    WHITE    HORSE 
RAPIDS  BEFORE    THE    WHITE    PASS   AND  YUKON   RAILWAY  WAS    BUILT 


the  track.  At  times  the  trains  are  forced 
to  cease  running,  owing  to  the  extreme 
cold.  Last  winter  when  it  registered 
from  seventy  to  eighty  degrees  below  zero, 
the  rails  snapped  like  glass  as  the  train 
passed  over  them,  and  great  danger  was 
encountered. 

The  new  mining  town  of  Conrad  on 
Windy  Arm,  a  southerly  branch  of  Lake 
Tagish,  is  occupying  much  attention  at 
the  present  time,  and  surveys  have  been 
made  by  the  engineers  of  the  White  Pass 
and  Yukon  Railway.  One  was  made 
from  Carcross  (formerly  Caribou  Cross- 
ing)  along  the  shores   of    Lake    Nares, 


jecture  now.  ^Nluch  depends  upon  the 
development  of  the  natural  resources  of 
the  country,  and  that  they  are  great  and 
valuable  there  can  hardly  Ije  a  shadow 
of  a  doubt.  Hitherto,  the  rush  has  been 
for  gold,  and  the  vast  deposits  of  silver, 
copper,  and  coal,  almost  overlooked. 
The  countr}'  is  only  in  its  infanc\'.  Other 
railroads  are  in  operation  in  Alaska,  and 
proposed  routes  are  talked  of  as  rivals  to 
the  White  Pass  and  Yukon  Railway,  but 
come  what  may  the  latter  will  be  recorded 
on  the  pages  of  American  history  as  one 
of  the  marvellous  feats  of  the  nineteenth 
centurv. 


I 


Canada's  Champion  Choir 


By  E.  R.  PARK  11  LUST 


A  Canadidu  amateur  organisation  that  will  /are  the  New 
York  critics  this  month 


tlHIS  month  of  February  will 
be  notable  in  the  musical 
annals  of  the  Dominion,  in- 
asmuch as  it  will  witness  the 
first  aj)pearance  of  a  Cana- 
dian choir  in  full  streni^th  in  the  metro- 
politan city  of  New  York.  The  Men- 
delssohn Choir  having  carried  the  fame 
of  Toronto  as  a  musical  centre  to  Buffalo, 
have  decided,  with  rare  enterprise  and 
confidence,  to  invite  the  verdict  of  the 
musical  people  of  New  York  itself — a  city 
in  which  there  is  often  an  embarrassment 
of  music  of  all  kinds,  a  city  which  hears  the 
best  singers  and  instrumentalists  in  the 
world,  and  consequently  a  city  in  which 
critical  opinion  is  very  advanced  and  very 
exacting.  But  despite  all  this,  Toronto 
need  have  no  misgivings  as  to  the  result, 
for  it  is  doubtful  whether  New  York 
.possesses  a  chorus  of  ecjual  distinction. 
The  only  choir,  I  understand,  that  can 
challenge  comparison  with  the  Mendel- 
ssohn Choir  is  a  small  professional  organ- 
isation. The  visit  of  the  Mendelssohn 
Choir  to  the  metropolis  will  most  directly 
redound  to  the  credit  of  Toronto  as  a 
centre  of  musical  culture;  but  in  a 
measure  Canada  as  a  whole  will  partici- 
pate in  whatever  honours  are  won.  The 
undertaking  of  our  local  choir  in  deciding 
on  giving  two  concerts  in  New  York  with- 
out making  an  appeal  to  the  general  public 
for  financial  aid  is  in  keeping  with  its  gen- 
eral history.  And  yet  it  seems  somewhat 
ungenerous  on  the  part  of  the  pubhc  that 
they  have  as  yet  made  no  otYer  to  provide 
a  financial  guarantee  for  the  very  heavy 
expenditure  which  wiU  of  necessity  be 
entailed  by  the  excursion.  The  first 
music  festival  of  Toronto  was  guaranteed 
to  the  amount  of  about  $25,000.  The 
Mendelssohn  Choir  projects  for  this  season 
are  of  greater  magnitude  than  was  that 
Historic    musical    celebration.     Thev    are 

.343 


to  give  four  concerts  in  Toronto,  one  in 
Buffalo  and  two  in  New  York,  all  in 
conjunction  with  the  Pittsburgh  orchestra 
— truly  a  stupendous  programme  for  an 
amateur  Toronto  Society. 

"Lest  w^e  forget,"  one  may  profitably 
take  a  retrospective  glance  at  what  has 
been  accomplished  by  this  remarkable 
chorus,  and  their  equally  remarkable 
conductor.  The  inspiration  which  led 
to  the  inception  and  the  development  of 
the  choir  was  found  in  a  German  city. 
While  studying  in  Leipzig,  A.  S.  Vogt  was 
so  profoundly  impressed  by  the  singing 
of  the  St.  Thomas  Choir  of  that  city — a 
choir  with  a  history  of  centuries  and  one 
which  could  point  with  pride  to  the  fact 
that  its  roll  of  conductors  included  such 
names   as   John    Sebastian   Bach,   Hiller 


MR.    A.    S.    VOGT 

Founder  and  conductor  of  the  celebrated 
Mendelssohn  Choir 


344 


CANADA'S   CHAMPION    CHOIR 


345 


and  other  great  musicians — that  he 
became  fired  with  the  ambition  to  found  a 
Canadian  choir  which  might  emulate  the 
highly  finished  choral  singing  of  the 
ancient  German  society.  His  ideas, 
which  for  some  time  germinated  in  his 
mind,  bore  forth  its  first  fruition  when  he 
became  choirmaster  of  the  Jarvis  Street 
Baptist  Church.  In  less  than  two  years 
he  had  trained  this  select  body  of  singers 
to  a  degree  of  efficiency  that  made  its 
name  favourably  known  throughout 
Canada.  The  next  step  was  the  organ- 
isation of  the  Mendelssohn  Choir,  with 
which  he  carried  out  his  theories  of  choir 
training  on  a  more  comprehensive  scale. 

The  Mendelssohn  Choir  was  a  success 
almost  from  its  inception.  Originally  its 
mission  was  intended  to  develop  the  art 
of  singing  unaccompanied  part  songs  and 
choruses  with  refinement  and  oratorical 
expression — something  attempted  with 
success  a  few  years  previously  by  Mr. 
Elliott  Haslam  with  his  Vocal  Society. 
But  the  Mendelssohn  Choir's  maiden 
effort  in  1895  transcended  in  quahty  and 
distinction  the  achievements  of  the  Has- 
lam Society,  creditable  as  they  were.  The 
public  and  the  press  at  once  recognised 
that  a  new  factor  had  come  into  exist- 
ence in  the  musical  art  life  of  the  city. 
The  critical  notices  of  the  Toronto  press 
on  the  first  concert  were  most  appreciative 
and  encouraging,  and  after  the  re-organ- 
isation of  the  choir  in  1900  the  praise  their 
singing  received  became  more  unquali- 
fied. Speaking  of  the  February  concert 
in  1901,  Saturday  Night  said:  "The 
singing  was  as  remarkable  for  its  rich 
musical  and  tonal  qualities  as  for  its  pre- 
cision, certainty  of  attack,  and  fine  shad- 
ing. In  close  harmonies  the  voices 
coalesced  with  the  perfection  of  a  fine 
instrument."  The  Globe  said:  "The 
choir,  while  they  have  retained  their 
former  beauty  of  tone  and  finished  detail 
work,  have  gained  in  power  and  breadth 
of  treatment."  The  Mail  and  Empire  of 
Jan.  31st,  1902,  said:  "The  chorus  has 
never  been  surpassed  on  this  continent." 

The  logic  of  circumstances  and  the 
force  of  public  opinion  influenced  Mr. 
Vogt  and  the  society  to  enlarge  their  field 
of  operations.  And,  step  by  step,  and 
Vvfithout    encroaching    upon    the    special 


work  of  our  oratorio  societies,  the  choir 
has  expanded  its  repertory  to  include  the 
great  choral  compositions  of  the  best  mas- 
ters, with  and  without  accompaniment; 
have  taken  into  association  (^ne  of  the  best 
orchestras  in  America,  and  have  multi- 
plied their  single  concert  by  four,  so  that 
their  undertaking  has  grown  to  festival 
proportions.  But  above  and  beyond  all 
this  they  have  twice  crossed  the  border 
and  delighted  thousands  of  the  citizens  of 
Buffalo  with  their  beautiful  singing,  and 
as  already  mentioned,  this  month  their 
enterprise  will  culminate  in  their  visit  to 
New  York  itself. 

The  creation,  the  development  and  the 
success  of  the  Alendelssohn  Choir  have  all 
been  due  to  the  genius  of  one  man — Mr. 
A.  S.  Vogt,  their  conductor.  Po.ssessing 
high  artistic  ideals  and  an  exceptional 
capacity  for  directing  and  instructing  a 
chorus,  Mr.  Vogt  joins  to  these  qualities 
consummate  tact,  sound  business  instinct 
and  steady,  untiring  and  persistent  per- 
severance and  energy,  the  last  none  the 
less  effective  because  it  has  none  of  the 
American  ostentation  or  strenuousness 
and  none  of  its  feverish  restlessness. 
To  his  artistic  ideals  and  his  ability  for 
direction  may  be  attributed  the  enlist- 
ment under  his  banner  of  the  best  chorus 
singers  of  the  city;  to  his  tact,  the  fact 
that  he  has  been  able  to  retain  them 
from  season  to  season,  to  hold  their  loyalty, 
to  increase  their  interest  and  enjovTnent; 
to  his  business  capacity,  the  summoning 
to  his  aid  committees  of  hard-working, 
clear-sighted  men;  and  to  his  energy  and 
perseverance,  the  attainment  of  a  high 
standard  of  perfection  in  the  performances 
of  the  choir.  And  financial  success  has 
kept  hand  in  hand  with  artistic  success. 
The  choir,  I  believe,  has  never  had  to 
struggle  with  adversity.  Public  recog- 
nition of  Mr.  Vogt's  labours  was  from 
the  first  prompt,  responsive  and  generous. 
x\nd  so  during  the  ten  seasons  of  the 
society  they  have  progressed  from  triumph 
to  triumph,  each  one  being  more  pro- 
nounced than  the  last. 

The  question  may  be  pertinently  asked, 
what  has  Mr.  Vogt  and  his  choir  accom- 
plished for  which  the  musical  commimity 
should  be  grateful  ?  I  offer  the  following 
answer: 


346 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


I.  A  general  elevation  of  the  standard 
of  choral  singing,  not  only  in  Toronto,  but 
in  all  the  cities  and  towns  in  Ontario  where 
there  is  a  mixed  choir,  large  or  small, 
sacred  or  secular.  As  soon  as  it  was 
found  that  the  public  were  attaching 
supreme  importance  to  the  refinemcils 
of  choral  singing,  to  the  production  of 
beautiful  and  varied  tone,  to  appropriate 
oratorical  expression,  choir  leaders  en- 
deavoured to  follow  the  example  set  them 
by  Mr.  Vogt.  I  may  go  further  than  this 
and  say  with  good  groimds  that  the  in- 
fluence of  the  Mciidelssohn  Choir  has 
extended  across  the  border.  Since  the 
visit  of  the  choir  to  Buffalo  a  number  of 
mixed  choirs  have  been  organised  there, 
the  frank  admission  being  made  that  the 
aim  was  to  accomplish  results  similar  to 
those  accomplished  by  the  Toronto  choir. 
This  fact  is  direct  e\ddence  of  the  practical 
influence  of  the  work  of  our  society.  It 
is  difficult  to  say  how  far-reaching  this 
influence  has  been,  the  recent  concerts  of 
the  choir  having  been  attended  by  nearly 
every  musician  of  eminence  in  the  Prov- 
ince, and  by  many  from  outside  points  in 
Quebec  and  the  States  of  the  adjoining 
Republic. 

2.  By  suppl)ing  first-class  orchestral 
music  regularly  since  1902,  the  choir 
have  -ttithin  that  short  time  developed  an 
increased  taste  on  the  part  of  the  pubUc, 
not  only  for  purely  orchestral  composi- 
tions but  for  choral  works  in  which  an 
efl&cient  orchestra  is  the  medium  of  ac- 
companiment. In  this  the  pubUc  appetite 
seems  to  have  gro'n'n  on  what  it  has  fed. 
Other  societies  have  found  it  to  their 
advantage,  artistic  and  othenvise,  to 
co-operate  with  first-class  orchestras. 
In  Toronto  I  may  point  to  the  fact  that  the 
National  Chorus  now  sings  regularly  in 
association  wath  the  splendid  New  York 
Symphony  Orchestra ,  while  Mr.  Fletcher 
has  engaged  the  Chicago  S\Tnphony  Or- 
chestra for  the  concert  of  one  of  his  choirs. 


3.  The  very  surprising  increase  in 
the  number  and  variety  of  important 
musical  works  of  different  schools 
performed  in  this  city.  It  is  a  matter  of 
general  admission  that  for  several  years 
prior  to  the  re-organisation  of  the  Men- 
delssohn Choir  in  1900.  the  list  of  works 
performed  in  Toronto  was  ver}-  limited. 
"Noiis  avons  change  tout  cela."  During 
the  past  two  seasons  it  has  puzzled  the 
newspaper  writers  to  deal  adequately  with 
the  numerous  novelties  or  new  works 
that  the  Mendelssohn  Choir  alone  have 
introduced.  The  effect  cannot  but  be 
a  broadening  of  the  public  taste  and  the 
replacement  of  narrow,  provincial  stand- 
ards by  a  catholic  and  intellectual  ap- 
preciation of  whatever  is  good  in  music, 
no  matter  what  its  origin  may  be. 

It  will  be  interesting  to  know  that 
the  chorus  that  will  be  heard  in  New 
York  and  Buffalo  will  number  two 
hundred  and  twenty-five  singers,  divided 
as  follows:  Sopranos,  63;  altos,  52; 
tenors,  50;  basses,  60.  The  quality  of 
the  voices  is  exceptionally  good.  The 
altos  and  basses  have,  it  is  said,  not  the 
breadth  and  fullness  of  the  similar  sec- 
tions of  the  crack  Yorkshire  choirs,  but 
the  beauty  of  their  tone  more  than  com- 
pensates for  lack  of  weight. 

I  have  not  attempted  in  this  article  to 
give  a  chronological  history  of  the  choir, 
nor  to  enumerate  the  compositions  they 
have  produced.  The  programmes  of 
the  concerts  since  re-organisation  reveal 
an  eclectic  taste  in  the  selection  of  the 
numbers  and  they  have  been  of  great 
educative  value.  The  supreme  achieve- 
ment of  the  choir  was,  it  is  considered  by 
advanced  critics,  the  production  last 
season  of  Beethoven's  colossal  Choral 
Sjinphony,  a  work  which  has  been  the  ; 
despair  of  many  conductors  and  many 
societies.  The  S}Tnphony  will  be  repeated 
this  season,  and  will  also  be  sung  at  one  of 
the  New  York  concerts. 


Worry-the  Disease  of  the  Age 


By  DR.  C.   W.  SALEEBY 


Further  evidence  that  worry  enfeebles  the  bodily  defences  and 
thus  helps  to  prepare  the  soil  for  the  germ  of  disease 


II.— WORRY  A\D  DISEASE 

NE  should  not  use  such  a 
term  as  disease  without  an 
attempt  to  define  it,  and 
this  I  propose  to  do  by  as 
brief  a  description  as  pos- 
sible of  its  opposite — ease,  or  health. 

So  accustomed  are  the  majority  of 
people  to  a  standard  of  their  own  which 
custom  has  led  them  to  regard  as  normal, 
that  any  plain  statement  of  what  con- 
stitutes real  health  will  perhaps  be  re- 
garded as  too  rigid  and  overdrawn. 
Nevertheless,  it  surely  seems  reasonable 
to  assert  something  like  the  following  as 
the  condition  of  health.  The  reader  will 
notice  that  I  do  not  include  any  estimate 
as  to  the  number  of  foot-pounds  of  work 
that  a  healthy  man  should  be  able  to 
perform  in  a  day,  or  as  to  the  number 
of  hours  that  he  should  be  able  to  spend 
in  intellectual  labour.  These  things  de- 
pend upon  a  thousand  factors,  varying 
in  almost  every  individual.  Of  such 
variations  my  definition  of  health  will 
take  no  heed.  I  am  not  satisfied  with 
the  definition  of  health  as  freedom  from 
disease;  that  affords  me  no  more  visible 
enlightenment  than  the  proposition  that 
disease  may  best  be  defined  as  a  depart- 
ure from  the  state  of  health.  But  with- 
out drawing  upon  my  imagination,  or 
attempting  to  set  any  standard  that  is 
not  realised  by  many  persons,  I  will  offer 
some  such  description  as  the  following, 
of  the  man  whom  I  regard  not  neces- 
sarily as  robust  or  energetic,  but  merely 
as  well.  My  concern  here  is  not  with 
what  we  call  rude  health,  but  merely 
with  health. 

When  the  healthy  man  wakes  in  the 
morning  he  should  have  no  recollection 
of  any  state  of  partial  or  entire  con- 
sciousness later  than,  say,  half  an  hour 

347 


after  he  went  to  bed  the  night  before; 
that  is  to  say,  his  sleep  has  been  un- 
broken, continuous,  complete:  if  he  has 
had  any  dreams  at  all,  he  has,  at  any 
rate,  no  recollection  of  them.  This  is 
the  kind  of  sleep  that  refreshes  a  healthy 
animal,  and  that  is  possible  for  a  healthy 
man.  The  sleep  that  is  broken  or  that 
is  not  readily  attained  when  the  hour 
comes  and  light  is  banished,  is  so,  not 
because  it  is  in  the  inherent  nature  of 
human  sleep  to  be  broken,  but  because 
there  has  been  too  much  strain,  either 
upon  the  brain  or  the  stomach,  or  both, 
before  sleep  was  sought.  We  need  say 
no  more  upon  this  subject  at  present. 
Having  waked  as  one  really  should  do, 
because  one  has  slept  enough,  and  not 
because  it  is  time  to  get  up,  and  an  ear- 
Uer  riser  has  told  one  so — the  healthy 
man  w^ants  to  be  up  and  doing.  That 
is  a  sign  of  health  which  I  admit  very 
nearly  entails  an  effort  of  my  imagina- 
tion. Nevertheless,  this  should  be  so. 
One  should  wake  because  one  has  slept 
long  enough,  and  should  no  more  want 
to  he  abed  than  one  wants  to  be  in  prison. 
The  healthy  man's  next  business  is  to 
perform  his  toilet  without  delay,  for  he 
is  hungry,  and  has  visions  of  breakfast. 
This  over,  his  concern,  like  that  of  the 
two  kings  in  the  "Gondohers,"  is  to 
proceed  without  delay  to  the  business 
of  the  day.  This  business  may  be  great 
or  small,  mental  or  physical,  long  or 
short;  but  he  leaves  it  wnth  a  surplus 
of  energ}-,  in  disposing  of  which  by  a 
happy  paradox  he  recreates  himself.  I 
will  not  dogmatise  as  to  whether  he 
should  walk,  or  play  with  his  children, 
or  read;  but  I  am  sure  that  the  healthy 
man  has  more  energy  to  dispose  of 
every  day  than  he  is  compelled  to  dispose 
of.  At  some  time  or  other  during  the 
day  he  indulges  in  work  or  play  of  his 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


own  choosing.  If,  like  most  of  us,  he 
has  compulsory  work,  and  leaves  it 
ready  only  for  dinner  and  bed,  he  can- 
not hope  to  answer  to  my  description, 
for  he  is  over-worked,  and  if  over-worked 
he  cannot  be  healthy.  His  work  done, 
and  contented  with  his  recreation,  my 
model  man  goes  to  bed.  I  have  already 
said  how  long  he  takes  to  get  to  sleep, 
and  what  sort  of  sleep  it  is  that  he  gets. 
During  the  whole  of  his  conscious  day 
his  health  has  been  marked  not  only  by 
positive  achievement,  but  by  certain 
negations.  Bored  he  may  have  felt, 
perhaps,  but  never  wear}-.  He  has  had 
no  pains  of  any  kind,  neither  headache 
nor  backache,  nor  any  other.  Through- 
out the  entire  day,  he  has  been  totally 
unconscious  of  his  own  person  and  of 
all  its  parts,  save  incidentally,  as  when 
wasliing  and  dressing.  He  has  never 
once  thought  about  his  digestion — all 
the  information  that  he  can  afford  on 
that  score  would  amount  simply  to  this: 
that  at  intervals  during  the  day  he  de- 
posited certain  pleasant  materials  in 
the  largest  aperture  of  his  face;  but 
that  of  their  subsequent  history  he  has 
no  record  whatever.  As  for  his  tongue, 
he  does  not  remember  ever  having  seen  it. 
If  this  desirable  state  be  health,  it  is 
little  wonder  that,  as  we  know,  the  fear 
of  disease  is  a  kind  of  worry  that  has 
played  a  part  in  men's  minds  since  the 
earliest  times.  The  histon,-  of  medicine 
was,  until  quite  recent  times,  the  histor}* 
of  superstition,  and  the  superstitious 
behefs  and  practices  to  which  worry 
about  disease  has  given  rise  are  without 
number.  Of  late  years  we  have  come 
to  a  rational  understanding  of  disease, 
and  the  manner  in  which  we  worr}^  about 
it  has  undergone  corresponding  modifi- 
cation. No  longer  do  we  conceive  dis- 
ease as  hurled  upon  us  by  an  avenging 
providence,  nor  by  outraged  and  slighted 
divinity.  Nor  do  we  any  longer  believe 
in  the  evil  eye,  nor  in  the  pestilent  influ- 
ence of  bad  air,  such  as  has  coined  for 
us  the  name  of  the  disease  "malaria." 
Nowadays  we  universally  accept  the 
germ  theor}-  of  disease.  We  know  that 
an  overwhelming  proportion  of  all  dis- 
ease is  due  to  the  fact  that  the  world  is 
inhabited  by  a  host  of  invisible  creatures, 


many  of  which  have  need  of  man's  body 
as  their  host  and  diet.  We  beUeve  that 
these  creatures  are  not  generated  in  the 
body,  but  enter  it  from  without;  and  we 
see  that  our  business,  if  we  would  be 
free  from  disease,  is  to  obviate  such 
entrance,  which  we  call  infection.  We 
thus  have  a  very  definite  process  to  worry 
about,  and  only  too  many  must  do  so  to 
much  purpose. 

The  purpose  served,  however,  is  not 
our  owTi,  but  that  of  the  microbes  which 
we  fear.  Let  us  consider  the  curious 
but  true  proposition  that  worry  about 
a  given  disease  may  be  the  deciding 
factor  whereby  it  is  enabled  to  attack 
and  even  to  slay  us. 

When  first  the  microbic  origin  of 
disease  was  discovered,  the  problem  of 
infection  seemed  to  be  a  simple  one; 
if  you  met  the  microbe  you  succumbed, 
if  not  you  went  free.  But  nowadays  we 
know  that  the  case  is  by  no  means  so 
simple.  The  bacilli  of  tuberculosis  are 
now  known  to  be  scarcely  less  than 
ubiquitous.  They  must  repeatedly  gain 
entrance  to  the  throat  and  air  passages 
of  every  city  dweller.  ^lore  alarming 
still,  discover)'  of  the  bacillus  of  diph- 
theria has  led  us  to  the  remarkable  con- 
clusion that  the  immediate  and  exciting 
and  indispensable  cause  of  this  terrible 
disease  is  apparently  a  normal  inhabi- 
tant of  the  mouth  and  throat  of  many 
healthy  people.  Not  so  long  ago  this 
last  proposition  would  have  seemed  to 
imply  that  such  a  bacillus  could  not 
possibly  be  the  cause  of  the  disease. 
But  we  are  discovering  that  the  microbe 
of  pneumonia  may  similarly  be  found 
in  the  throats  of  healthy  people.  The 
doctors  and  nurses  who  work  in  hospital 
wards  containing  cases  of  the  three 
diseases  I  have  mentioned,  and  many 
others,  are  quite  frequently  found  to 
have  abimdant  supplies  in  their  mouths 
and  noses  of  the  causal  organisms. 

It  is  plain,  therefore,  that  there  must  be 
another  factor  than  merely  the  presence 
of  the  seed  in  the  production  of  any  case 
of  disease,  and  plainly  that  factor  must 
be  the  suitability  of  the  soil.  The 
characters  of  the  human  soil  in  relation 
to  any  disease  are  expressed  by  the 
correlative  terms,  immunity  and  suscep- 


WORRY— THE    DISEASE    OF   THE   AGE 


349 


tibility.  It  is  now  known  to  be  not 
enough  that  the  seed  be  sown.  It  may 
die;  it  may  be  killed  where  it  falls. 

The  whole  problem  of  immunity  is 
perhaps  the  most  complicated  and  ob- 
scure in  the  whole  field  of  the  medical 
sciences.  It  varies  in  different  cases  ac- 
cording to  a  thousand  circumstances;  age, 
race,  temperature,  diet,  habits,  previous 
attacks,  the  strain  of  microbes,  and  so 
on.  Of  these  circumstances  there  is 
one  which,  though  of  great  importance, 
is  entirely  ignored  by  bacteriologists.  I 
am  not  acquainted  with  any  work  on 
immunity — not  even  that  which  has 
lately  been  published  by  Professor  Metch- 
nikoff— wherein  the  importance  of  the 
mind  in  relation  to  infectious  disease  is 
duly  recognised.  It  is  true  that  experi- 
ment cannot  be  made  upon  this  subject; 
it  is  true  also  that  no  exactitude  can  be 
hoped  for  in  its  study.  But  though  we 
are  confined  to  more  or  less  casual  ob- 
servation, and  though  we  cannot  ex- 
press these  consequences  of  mental  state 
in  terms  of  the  reactions  per  kilogram 
of  rabbit,  we  may  be  assured  that  the 
mind  does  play  a  most  important  part  in 
determining  whether  or  not  an  individual 
shall  suffer  from  a  given  disease.  Doubt- 
less, infectious  diseases  may  be  divided 
for  convenience  into  two  classes.  There 
are  some,  such  as  malaria  in  the  case  of 
the  white  man  and  measles  in  the  case 
of  every  child,  to  which  the  individual 
must  succumb,  so  soon  as  he  encounters 
the  microbes  upon  which  they  depend. 
In  such  cases  we  must  admit  that  the 
influence  of  the  mind,  if  it  has  any  place 
at  all,  is  practically  neghgible.  But  on 
the  other  hand,  we  know  that  there  is 
a  large  number  of  diseases,  susceptibihty 
to  which  is  determined  by  the  general 
health,  as  we  may  conveniently  if  vaguely 
term  it;  so  long  as  we  conform  to  a  cer- 
tain standard  of  vigour  we  may  harbour 
the  tubercle  bacillus,  the  diphtheria  bacil- 
lus and  the  pneumococcus  in  our  mouths 
and  suff'er  no  harm.  Doubtless  they 
multiply  but  slowly,  and  five  either  upon 
one  another  or  upon  the  secretions  of 
the  mucous  membrane  near  which  they 
lie;  at  any  rate,  they  make  no  inroads 
upon  the  living  tissues.  But  if  there 
comes  a  chill  or  a  bout  of  dnmkenness. 


or  an  attack  of  influenza,  or  any  other 
devitahsing  factor,  the  resistance  of  the 
individual  is  diminished,  and  he  may 
well  fall  before  the  attacks  of  microbes 
which  he  has  housed  for  months  with- 
out hurt.  In  the  case  of  such  diseases, 
then,  it  would  appear  that  it  is  simply 
the  general  vitality  or  lack  of  vitality 
that  determines  immunity  or  suscep- 
tibility. 

The  reader  will  draw  for  himself  the 
obvious  conclusion.  If  there  be  diseases 
which  depend  for  their  success  upon 
failure  of  general  health — the  exciting 
microbic  causes  being  unable  to  act  save 
with  the  co-operation  of  predisposing 
causes — then  it  is  plain  that  any  factor 
which  lowers  the  general  health  may 
turn  the  scale  in  favour  of  the  attacking 
forces.  Now,  if  there  is  one  fact  more 
indisputable  than  another,  it  is  that 
worry  is  able  to  weaken  the  bodily  de- 
fences. It  was  care  that  killed  even  the 
nine-lived  cat. 

Whenever  it  is  possible,  I  dearly  love 
to  support  a  proposition  by  distinct  lines 
of  argimient— the  argument  which  asserts 
that  the  proposition  must  be  true  be- 
cause it  necessarily  follows  from  other 
propositions  assumed  to  be  true,  and 
the  more  properly  scientific  argimient 
that  the  proposition  is  true  because  when 
we  come  to  look  at  the  facts  they  con- 
firm it.  Now,  by  the  first  or  a  priori 
method,  we  have  already  convinced  our- 
selves, I  think,  that  if  the  accepted 
theories  of  disease  be  correct,  worry 
about  disease  must  necessarily  be  a  pre- 
disposing cause  of  disease.  But  it  is  also 
possible  to  quote  the  evidence  of  experi- 
ence and  observation  in  support  of  this 
proposition. 

I  must  insist  upon  the  manner  in  which 
I  have  qualified  this  statement.  It  is 
impossible  to  assert  that  lack  of  fear 
will  protect  an  unvaccinated  person  from 
smallpox.  In  such  a  case,  immunity 
and  susceptibility  depend  not  at  all  upon 
the  general  health,  but  exclusively  upon 
the  circumstances  whether  the  threatened 
individual  has  or  has  not  previously 
suffered  from  the  disease  or  any  of  its 
modifications.  The  role  of  worry  in  the 
causation  of  infectious  disease  is  con- 
fined   entirely    to    those    diseases    which 


350 


THE  CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


depend  for  their  power  upon  failure  of 
general  health.  Worry  acts  not  in  any 
mystical  fashion,  but  merely  in  virtue 
of  its  effect  upon  general  vitality,  and 
if  the  estate  of  the  general  vitality  be 
irrelevant,  as  it  appears  to  be  in  the  case 
of  a  large  nvunber  of  diseases,  then 
worry  must  count  for  very  little,  one 
way  or  another.  This  admission  does 
not  at  all  prejudice  the  fact  that  in  a 
very  large  number  of  instances  worn,- 
counts  for  a  great  deal  in  this  connection. 

But  when  we  have  exhausted  the  con- 
sideration of  worry  and  fear  in  relation 
to  diseases  of  microbic  origin,  we  are 
very  far  indeed  from  having  reached  the 
end,  for  we  have  yet  to  consider  the  in- 
numerable diseases  or  disordered  con- 
ditions of  the  nervous  system,  and  these, 
as  might  be  expected,  are  profoundly 
afifected  by  worry. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  all  we 
have  here  to  say  is  simply  that  if  one 
worries  long  enough  about  a  nervous 
disease  the  worn,^  will  be  justified  at 
last.  For,  let  us  take  the  instance  of 
the  modem  curse  of  sleeplessness.  It  is 
the  fact  that  worr)^  about  sleep,  as  dis- 
tinguished from  worry  about  one's  affairs, 
is  in  itself  suflBicient  only  too  often  to 
cause  a  sleepless  night.  In  attempting 
to  control  a  case  of  sleeplessness,  nothing 
is  of  more  importance  than,  if  possible, 
to  restore  the  patient's  confidence  in  his 
power  to  sleep.  Only  too  many  people, 
whose  sleep  tends  to  be  uncertain,  begin 
to  worry  about  their  prospects  directly 
they  get  into  bed,  and  their  apprehension 
justifies  itself. 

The  case  is  the  same  with  many  other 
nervous  functions,  as,  for  instance,  diges- 
tion. The  more  conscious  attention  one 
pays  to  it,  the  less  likely  is  it  to  succeed. 

Indeed  we  may  now  recognise  a  general 
truth  which  is  of  ver}^  great  psychological 
interest:  that,  in  general,  those  bodily 
processes  and  functions  which  are  under 
the  control  of  the  lower  levels  of  the 
nervous  system  are  best  performed  when 
those  lower  levels  are  left  undisturbed 
by  orders  from  above.  This  is  true,  not 
only  of  such  fimctiona  as  sleep  and 
digestion,  but  also  of  other  fimctions 
which,  at  one  time  in  the  history  of  the 
individual,  have  required  the  most  direct 


and  painstaking  efforts  of  conscious  atten- 
tion. This  is  conspicuously  true  of  vari- 
ous games  and  arts.  When  playing  bil- 
Uards,  for  instance,  the  trained  organism 
may  be  trusted  to  perform  simple  strokes, 
almost  automatically.  If  the  player  be- 
gins to  devote  too  much  attention  to  them, 
he  is  the  more  likely  to  fail.  But  the 
most  conspicuous  instance  of  my  prop- 
osition is  fimiished  by  singing.  It  is 
the  common  experience  of,  I  suppose, 
every  singer  that  he  is  capable  of  attacking 
and  sustaining  without  diflSculty,  pro- 
vided that  he  be  unaware  of  their  pitch, 
notes  which,  as  a  rule,  he  does  not  dare 
to  essay.  A  bass  singer  knows,  for 
instance,  that  his  upper  limit  of  com- 
fort is  E;  if  he  knows  that  there  is  an 
F  coming  he  begins  to  worry  about  it, 
and  often  pays  the  penalty.  But  if  a 
song  which  he  usually  sings  in  E  major 
be  played  for  him  without  the  music 
in  F,  he  will  take  the  upper  tonic  with 
ease,  simply  because  he  thinks  it  is  E. 
Similarly,  in  the  case  of  variations  in 
pitch  between  diff'erent  pianos;  if  one 
has  a  piano  of  the  sensible  French  pitch 
one  does  not  venture  on  an  F,  but  will 
easily  take  an  E  elsewhere,  though  as  a 
matter  of  fact  it  is  almost  identical  with 
the  F,  on  which  one  never  ventures  at 
home. 

This  suffices  to  illustrate  the  proposition 
that  excess  of  attention — and  this  is  an 
accurate  definition  of  certain  kinds  of 
worry — interferes  at  least  as  markedly 
as  carelessness  with  the  performance  of 
many  subconscious  or  semi-automatic 
acts.  In  the  case  of  sleep  and  digestion, 
we  cannot  pay  too  little  attention.  In 
the  case  of  organised  compound  acts, 
hke  viohn  playing  and  singing,  a  measure 
of  attention  is  necessary,  but  directly 
that  measure  is  exceeded  and  the  con- 
sciousness becomes  too  eager  (which 
means  that  it  begins  to  worry)  failure  is 
imminent.  But  everyone  who  knows 
anything  about  executive  art  or  sport 
knows  what  this  fact  means. 

This  digression  ^^'ill  suffice  abundantly 
to  prove  that  the  behaviour  of  the  nervous 
system,  whether  in  relation  to  the  neces-| 
sary  functions  of  life,  or  to  its  arts  and; 
sports,  is  capable  of  very  great  modifica-; 
tion  bv  means  of  the  mere   direction  oir 


WORRY— THE    DISEASE   OF   THE   AGE 


351 


consciousness  thereto.  In  its  popular 
meaning,  the  word  self-consciousness  pre- 
cisely signifies  that  excess  of  attention 
to  self,  always  with  the  emotional  tone 
of  apprehension  or  worry,  which  so  often 
leads  to  failure.  "Nervousness"  again, 
in  its  popular  meaning,  implies  a  similar 
emotional  tone,  and  we  all  know  its 
consequences.  Now,  if  we  once  admit 
the  fact  that  the  functions  of  the  nervous 
system  are  somehow  modifiable  by  the 
mere  direction  of  consciousness  to  them, 
it  must  necessarily  follow  that  worry 
about  any  nervous  function  may  cause 
disease.  Such  disease,  for  convenience, 
we  may  call  a  disease  of  function  or  a 
functional  disease,  and  in  point  of  fact 
the  distinction  between  organic  and 
functional  nervous  diseases  is  every- 
where recognised  by  neurologists.  From 
every  point  of  view,  practical  and  theoreti- 
cal alike,  the  distinction  is  one  of  the 
first  importance,  and  we  cannot  begin 
to  make  any  progress  in  our  study  of 
the  relations  of  worry  to  disease  imtil 
we  have  the  clearest  possible  conception 
of  the  difference  between  these  two  great 
classes  of  nervous  disorder 

With  the  general  structiu-e  of  his  nerv- 
ous system  the  reader  is  doubtless  familiar. 
A  cerebro-spinal  axis,  consisting  of  brain 
and  spinal  cord  continuous  with  it;  a 
series  of  nerves  passing  to  and  from  all 
but  the  highest  portions  of  this  axis; 
and  a  broad  division  of  nervous  tissues 
into  cellular  or  grey  matter,  and  conduct- 
ing or  white  matter,  every  such  conduct- 
ing fibre  being  really  a  linear  continuation 
of  a  nerve  cell — these  are  the  outhne  facts 
of  the  nervous  system.  It  is  a  material 
structure  or  complex  of  structures,  to  be 
handled,  seen,  or  eaten,  as  in  the  case  of 
the  brain  of  a  calf.  And  though  the 
anatomy  of  the  nervous  system  is  a  matter 
for  many  volumes,  we  may  say  that,  even 
in  the  minute  anatomy  of  the  nerve  cell, 
there  is  nothing  which  does  not  or  might 
not  conceivably  \aeld  to  patient  and  ex- 
pert study.  As  far  as  the  anatomist  is 
;  concerned,  the  nervous  system  of  a  Shake- 
.  speare  or  a  Newton  is  simply  so  much 
matter  arranged  in  a  certain  way.  How- 
ever complex  the  arrangement,  there  is 
nothing  in  it  which  suggests  itself  to  be 
inherentlv  insoluble. 


Nor  does  the  morbid  anatomist  or 
pathologist  find  anything  at  which  his 
intellect  chokes  in  his  study  of  the  nervous 
system.  He  simply  finds  matter  in  the 
wrong  place;  a  clot  of  blood  pressing 
a  volitional  tract  and  causing  paralysis 
or  speechlessness;  a  thickened  projection 
of  bone  pressing  upon  a  certain  area  and 
depriving  it  of  its  function;  a  fluid 
accumulation  in  the  cavities  of  the  brain 
causing  a  hydrocephalus — and  so  on. 
You  may  spend  a  lifetime  on  this  study 
and  be  a  learner  at  the  end  of  it;  but 
you  will  never  be  brought  up  sharply 
at  a  problem  the  terms  of  which  you 
cannot  even  frame.  Yoiu:  difficulties, 
Uke  those  of  the  anatomist  proper,  are  at 
any  rate  never  unthinkable. 

Of  these  "gross  lesions"  of  the  nervous 
system,  then,  much  is  definitely  known. 
They  are  responsible  for  what  we  caU 
organic  disease  of  the  nervous  system, 
meaning  thereby  that  there  is  some 
matter  of  some  sort  out  of  place  in  the 
material  organ  of  our  study.  And  to 
ciu-e  the  malady  you  must  re-arrange 
the  matter  involved,  in  the  normal  way. 
This  you  may  roughly  do  in  a  few  in- 
stances— as  by  the  removal  of  a  tumour 
of  the  brain.  This  may  be  difficult  or 
impossible;  but  the  problem  presents 
no  inherent  difference  from  that  pre- 
sented to  the  watchmaker  when,  let  us 
say,  some  dirt  has  got  into  a  watch.  It 
is  simply  a  question  of  altering  the  position 
in  space  of  certain  portions  of  matter. 

In  contrast  with  all  the  organic  diseases 
of  the  nervous  system,  the  neiirologist 
recognises  an  indefinite  number  of  other 
maladies  which  he  calls  functional.  Mor- 
bid anatomy,  aided  even  by  the  micro- 
scope and  chemistry,  reveals  nothing  in 
such  cases.  There  is  no  organic  change 
to  be  discerned,  but  there  is  disorder  of 
fimction,  which  may  be,  and  often  is, 
quite  as  grave  as  that  done  by  a  structural 
change  which  you  could  see  ten  yards 
away,  were  it  exposed. 

Typical  of  these  functional  maladies — 
the  number  of  which  appears  to  be  con- 
stantly undergoing  addition  in  civihsed 
commimities — is  the  protean  disorder 
which  is  called  hysteria.  Despite  ety- 
molog}',  hysteria  is  met  with  in  both  sexes 
and  at  all  ages.     It  i?  a  reaUtV;  to  be 


352 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


confused  with  malingering  or  shamming 
only  by  those  who  know  nothing  of  it. 
Though  nothing  does  the  hysterical  pa- 
tient more  harm  than  sympathy,  he  is  as 
much  entitled  to  it  as  if  he  had  a  cerebral 
tumour  as  big  as  your  fist.  But,  though  to 
assert  the  reahty  of  hysteria  or  any  other 
fvmctional  disease  of  the  nervous  system 
is  easy,  to  define  its  natiire  is,  in  the  last 
analysis,  not  only  impossible,  but  as 
impossible  as  it  is  to  define  the  relation  of 
mind  and  matter— the  unknowable,  un- 
frameable,  unthinkable  problem.  The 
physician  may  glibly  say  of  his  patient's 
malady,  "Oh!  it  is  only  functional" — 
but  he  has  not  solved  the  ultimate  prob- 
lem with  that  phrase. 

We  cannot  believe,  indeed,  that  any 
"functional  malady"  is  not  the  symptom 
of  an  organic  or  material  change — a 
change  too  subtle  for  any  of  our  methods. 
That  we  may  hold  as  a  pious  belief;  but 
we  possess,  with  a  very  different  convic- 
tion, the  knowledge  that  in  the  cure  of  the 
two  classes  of  nervous  malady  there  is  a 
difference  as  profound  as  the  difference 
between  mind  and  matter.  This  may 
readily  be  shown. 

You  have  before  you  two  persons 
who  are  imable  to  move  the  right  arm — 
the  inability  in  the  two  cases  being 
identical.  The  first  is  a  case  of  organic 
disease.  You  remove  the  tumour  which 
is  pressing  on  the  arm  area  on  the  left 
side  of  the  patient's  brain,  and  he  regains 
the  use  of  his  arm  forthwith.  The  expert 
who  removes  an  obstacle  to  the  move- 
ment of  your  watch  performs  a  precisely 
comparable  operation.  But  the  second 
patient  has  a  functional  paralysis.  You 
will  not  cure  him  by  altering  the  position 
in  space  of  any  portions  of  matter  what- 
soever. But  if  you  act  on  his  mind — as 
in  the  instance  of  the  miracle  wrought 
on  the  Sabbath  Day — and  say,  "Stretch 
forth  thine  hand,"  the  paralysis  is  no  more. 
In  attempting  to  redew  an  enormous 
subject  in  a  few  fines,  I  may  therefore 
say  that  in  all  diseases  of  the  nervous 
system — insanity  of  even.-  kind  included 
— a  cure  is  conceivable  by  an  action  on 
matter  or  an  action  on  mind. 

The  piles  of  crutches  at  Lourdes  in- 
dicate real  cures  of  real  diseases.     The 


cures  wrought  by  Christian  Scien-ce  are 
real  cures.  Faith  heahng  is  a  fact. 
Neither  faith  nor  Mrs.  Eddy  can  remove 
mountains — or  kill  a  bacillus — but  mind 
can  act  on  mind.  Terrible  maladies  exist 
which  the  united  wisdom  of  every  physi- 
cian on  the  earth  might  be  impotent  to 
affect,  but  which  would  yield  instantly 
and  finally  to  the  nonsensical  jabbering 
of  an  immoral  imbecile,  if  only  the  pa- 
tient's mind  were  affected  thereby.  These 
are  scientific  facts,  as  certain  and  as  im- 
portant as  the  infectiousness  of  cholera, 
the  germ  causation  of  tubercolosis  or  the 
triumphs  of  Listerian  surger\'. 

But  my  assertion  of  these  facts  will 
not  delude  any  reader  into  forgetting 
the  immeasurable  distinction  between  a 
description  and  an  explanation.  The 
first  we  have  already;  the  second  would 
explain  not  only  hysteria,  but  the  cosmos 
in  its  entirety.  If  Tennyson  could  say 
as  much  of  the  flower  in  the  crannied 
wall,  it  may  certainly  be  said  of  an  ex- 
planation which,  in  answering  one  ques- 
tion, would  leave  none  unanswered. 

Having  thus  attempted  to  define,  as 
clearly  as  possible,  the  difference  between 
organic  and  functional  nervous  disease, 
we  must  now  note  some  qualifying  con- 
siderations which  complicate  the  matter 
in  practice.  For  instance,  there  is  often 
found  what  we  call  a  functional  element 
superadded  to  cases  of  organic  disease 
as  in  the  case  of  disseminated  solerosis 
of  the  brain  and  spinal  chord.  Such  cases 
frequently  deceive  the  physician,  who  is 
apt  to  regard  the  disease  as  entirely 
functional,  because  of  the  functional 
element  which  it  displays,  and  because 
he  is  familiar  with  functional  disorders 
which  exactly  simulate  this  disease.  On 
the  other  hand,  functional  disorder,  by 
interfering  with  the  general  nutrition, 
may  lead  to  organic  disease,  and  thus 
introduce  the  converse  complication. 
Hence  we  find  that  in  practice  it  is  im- 
possible to  maintain  any  ultimate  distinc- 
tion between  the  two  classes  of  disease. 

We  have  already  hinted  that  the  dis- 
tinction between  maUngering  or  shamming  j 
and  hysteria  is  a  real  one.     When  the  , 
patient  is  pretending  to  be  ill  his  disease 
is  fictitious;  when  he  suffers  from  hysteria 


WORRY— THE    DISEASE    OF   THE    AGE 


353 


we  may  describe  it  as  factitious,  but 
none  the  less  real  therefor.  With  ficti- 
tious disease  we  have  here  no  concern 
at  all. 

I  have  just  used  the  masculine  pronoun, 
and  the  reader  may  think  it  out  of  place 
in  relation  to  hysteria,  but  there  is  such 
a  thing  as  male  hysteria,  and  the  deriva- 
tion from  the  name  of  a  distinctively 
feminine  organ  implies  a  libel  upon  the 
gentle  sex.  Doubtless  hysteria  is  more 
common  amongst  women,  but  that  is 
all  that  can  be  said.  No  real  distinction 
can  be  maintained  between  the  various 
forms  of  what  it  is  usually  agreed  to  call 
hysteria,  and  the  countless  other  forms 
of  functional  nervous  disease,  and  we  may 
consider  them  all  together  indifferently. 
Now,  what  are  the  relations  of  worry  to 
the  two  classes  of  nervous  disease  ? 

We  may  say  that  worry  does  not  directly 
cause  organic  disease.  I  cannot  sub- 
scribe to  the  opinion  that  the  organic 
disease  (not  nervous)  called  cancer  may 
be  induced  in  any  organ  by  the  constant 
fear  of  its  occurrence  there.  Worr>'  can 
only  cause  organic  disease — such,  for 
instance,  as  the  bursting  of  a  blood- 
vessel in  the  brain — indirectly  ty  its 
influence  upon  general  nutrition.  On  the 
other  hand,  worry  may,  and  constantly 
does,  cause  functional  nervous  disease. 
We  have  already  seen  that  worry  about 
the  possibility  of  disorder,  such  as  sleep- 
lessness, may  induce  the  very  disorder 
in  question.  But  worry  about  ami:hing, 
whether  in  this  world  or  the  next,  is  a 
potent  cause  of  functional  nervous  disease. 
It  is  only  consistent  with  this  fact  that 
such  disease  should  be  curable  by  mental 
influences.  It  may  be  fairly  argued  that 
even  in  these  cases,  the  worry  may  cause 
the  disorder  by  its  interference  with 
appetite  or  sleep  or  both;  but  the  manner 


of  its  operation  is  not  so  important  as  the 
fact  that  it  does  so  operate. 

We  have  already  said  that  the  dis- 
tinction between  organic  and  functional 
disease,  all  important  though  it  be, 
cannot  be  universally  maintained.  An 
instance  of  this  is  now  furnished  by  the 
common  disorder  which  goes  by  the  good 
name  of  neurasthenia — the  Greek  for 
nerve  weakness.  This  has  gone  by  various 
names — general  debility,  nervous  debility, 
nervous  exhaustion,  letat  nerveux,  the 
vapours,  and  so  on.  It  is  unquestion- 
ably distinct  from  tj'pical  hysteria;  yet 
on  the  other  hand  it  is  equally  distinct 
from  definite  organic  disease,  such  as 
that  due  to  a  tumour  or  a  haemorrhage, 
and  it  is  curable  in  a  way  in  which  ordin- 
ary- organic  disease  is  not. 

Both  hysteria  and  neurasthenia  are 
frequently  caused  by  worry.  In  both 
cases,  however,  we  have  to  recognise  that 
worr\',  the  exciting  cause,  cannot  act 
without  the  help  of  a  predisposing  cause, 
which  is  ver}'  difficult  to  define,  but  which 
is  undoubtedly  a  reality.  It  is  a  matter 
of  inheritance,  and  we  may  call  it  in- 
herited nervous  instability,  or  the  neurotic 
tendency;  but  if  we  use  this  word  neu- 
rotic, we  really  must  guard  ourselves 
against  attaching  any  unpleasant  or 
sinister  meaning  to  it.  It  is  the  neurotic 
people  that  do  the  work  of  the  world, 
and  fortunate  are  those  who  have  the 
finely  strung,  dehcately  organised  nervous 
system  which  that  adjective  indicates. 
This  definitely  asserted,  we  may  go  on 
to  assert  that  worry  can  scarcely  cause 
hysteria,  neurasthenia,  or  any  other 
functional  nervous  disease  in  people  of 
the  phlegmatic  or  even  the  average  type. 
But  it  is,  of  course,  the  neurotic  people 
who    are    temperamentally    inclined    to 


Miss  Pontigreve's  Parrot 

B\  BEATRICE  ROSENTHAL 


How  a  feathered  creature  disturbed  a  quiet  neighbourhood  and  caused 
an  aging  spinster'' s  reconciliation  to  a  nephew's  plebeian  tastes 


illSS  PONTIGREVE  dwelt 
at  Cherxystead,  that  pleasant 
and  still  countrified  suburb 
within  easy  reach  of  South- 
West  London.  Her  house, 
"The  Acacias,"  TN-ith  its  spacious  garden, 
was  the  largest  and  most  picturesque  of  all 
the  "desirable  residences"  in  Western 
Avenue,  and,  as  regards  wealth  and  social 
position,  Miss  Pontigreve  was  accounted 
one  of  the  "best"  people  in  the  neigh- 
bovuhood. 

But  as  she  sat  in  the  bay  window  of  her 
handsome  dra%\'ing-room  that  bright  au- 
tumn morning  she  looked  anything  but  a 
contented  old  lady.  She  held  in  her  hand 
a  letter  which  she  had  just  shown  to  her 
old  friend,  Dr.  Bedford,  who  had  come 
in  to  look  at  the  cook's  scalded  hand. 
Miss  Pontigreve  had  read  the  letter  several 
times  herself,  though  she  had  resolved  not 
to  answer  it.  Her  heart  was  sore  against 
the  writer,  her  nephew  and  godson,  the 
Rev.  Felix  Pontigreve,  who,  after  dehght- 
ing  her  by  a  briUiant  career  at  the  univer- 
sity, had  declined  the  easy  duties  of  the 
curacy  his  aunt  had  desired  for  him,  to 
go  and  work  in  a  back  street  district,  ver}- 
far  east  of  Cherrystead. 

"The  quixotic  perverseness  of  the  young 
people  of  the  present  day  is  only  equalled 
by  their  ingratitude,"  remarked  Miss 
Pontigreve  to  her  medical  ad\aser. 

"Well,  we  must  give  these  idealists 
scope,"  answered  the  old  gentleman. 
"That  slum  experience  goes  to  the  making 
of  the  best  doctors,  and  the  best  parsons, 
too,  so  I'm  told.  It  must  be  an  interesting 
part  of  the  world,  ^^'hy  don't  you  take 
the  boy  at  his  word  and  pay  him  a  \isit  ?" 
"I  shall  do  no  such  thing,"  said  Miss 
Pontigreve  with  asperity,  folding  up  the 
letter.     "He  has  run  counter  to  all  my 

354 


wishes.  You  know  that  the  Rector  offered 
him  a  title,  and  I  meant  him  to  Uve  here 
with  me.  Isn't  there  enough  scope  in  a 
growing  place  like  this  for  any  reasonable 
young  man  ?  However,  it  has  taught  me 
a  lesson,"  she  added.  "I  shall  do  no 
more  for  thankless  people." 

Miss  Pontigreve  took  up  her  work  as 
the  doctor  went  away — the  fine  lace-work 
she  could  see  to  do  without  spectacles  in 
spite  of  her  sixty-odd  years.  Her  last 
words  gave  the  clue  to  the  grievance  she 
was  weaving  into  the  deHcate  mesh.  She 
brooded  bitterly  over  the  ingratitude  of 
the  world  in  general,  and  in  particular  of 
the  favourite  nephew  whom  she  had 
adopted  and  educated,  whose  sense  of  a 
vocation  had  thwarted  her  plans,  and 
whom  she  missed  more  than  words  could 
tell. 

Presently  she  looked  up,  and  called 
through  the  open  window : 

"Fluffy!" 

A  small  black  spaniel  scampered  across 
the  smooth  stretch  of  turf,  and  came  to  a 
stop  on  the  gravel  path,  all  four  legs  set 
wide,  regarding  his  mistress  'nnth  a  bright, 
attentive  eye;  then  frisked  through  a 
clump  of  cactus  dahlias. 

The  hard  Unes  of  the  old  spinster's  face 
relaxed  as  she  watched  the  little  creature. 
She  touched  a  hand-bell  on  the  table  beside 
her. 

"Tipples,"  she  said  to  the  elderly  man- 
servant who  answered  the  summons, 
"tell  Richard  to  take  Fluffy  for  his  walk. 
He  is  in  the  garden." 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Tipples,  whose 
name  was  an  obvious  libel  on  his  person. 
"  Anythink  else,  ma'am  ?  " 

"Tell  Simpson  to  come  round  and 
speak  to  me  about  the  bulbs  when  he  is 
readv." 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

He    withdrew,    and    Miss    Pontigreve 


MISS    PONTIGREVE'S   PARROT 


355 


dropped  her  work  into  her  lap  and  fell  into 
a  fit  of  musing,  from  which  she  was  roused 
at  length  by  a  step  on  the  gravel. 

"Is  that  you,  Simpson?" 

It  was  not  her  respectable  Scotch  gar- 
dener, the  inventor  of  a  new  variety  of 
rose-tulip,  but  a  man  of  seedy  appearance 
carrying  a  large  dome-shaped  object, 
shrouded  in  a  piece  of  dirty  blanket. 

He  set  it  down  on  the  ground,  and 
saluted  the  lady  seated  in  the  window  by 
touching  his  forehead  with  a  grimy 
finger. 

"Bewtiful  day  fer  the  time  er  year, 
mum,"  he  began  in  an  insinuating  voice. 

"Did  they  tell  you  at  the  back  door  to 
come  round  here  ?"  asked  Miss  Pontigreve 
disconcertingly.  "I  don't  give  to  beggars 
or  organ-grinders." 

The  individual  touched  his  forehead 
again. 

"I  ain't  a  beggar  nor  a  horgan-grinder. 
I'm  a  pore  feller,  wot's  trapsed  many  a 
weary  mile,"  he  said,  plaintively,  "and 
has  I  wos  a-passin'  the  gate  of  this  yer 
bewtiful  garding,  and  see  the  Httle  dawg 
a-bouncin'  hover  the  grars  as  'appy  as  cud 
be,  I  sez  ter  meself,  'There's  a  beneverlent 
lidy  livin'  'ere,'  I  sez,  'wot  wouldn't  refuse 
ter  do  a  reel  genuine  kindness." 

"I  don't  help  people  on  principle," 
said  Miss  Pontigreve.  "You  had  better 
apply  to  the  Charity  Organisation." 

"  'Tain't  fer  a  'uman  bein'  I  am  a-arstin', 
mum,"  went  on  the  man  eagerly.  "Not 
fer  meself,  but  a  pore  'elpless  bird  in  this 
yer  cige,  fer  'om  I  am  a-tryin'  ter  find  a 
'ome.  Money's  no  objeck.  It's  the  'ome 
that's  the  consideration." 

"What  kind  of  bird?"  inquired  Miss 
Pontigreve. 

"A  parrit,  mum — a  mawvil.  You 
never  see  'is  like.  'E  belonged  to  a  station- 
master  wot  is  a-eraigratin'  to  Canada 
with  wife  and  fam'ly,  and  arst  me  ter  find 
a  'ome  fer  'im.  Only  a  couple  o'  guineas, 
mum,  jest  wot  the  chap's  out  er  pocket  by 
the  cige — noo,  as  you  see,"  he  added, 
beginning  to  unshroud  it;  "that's  nothink 
fer  the  bird  'isself — jest  the  good  'ome — " 
The  old  lady  shook  her  head. 
"I  have  no  experience  of  parrots,"  she 
said,  rising  nevertheless  to  look  out  of  the 
window. 

The  removal  of  the  blanket  revealed  a 


large  cage  wherein  a  grey- white  bird  with 
an  orange-pink  crest  and  a  powerful  beak 
was  swinging  itself  on  a  metal  ring. 

It  descended  from  the  ring  to  a  much- 
gnawed  perch,  and  danced  from  side  to 
side,  bobbing  and  whistling  with  pleasure 
in  the  light  and  air. 

"What  species  of  parrot  is  it?"  asked 
the  old  lady. 

"Well,  mum,  there  is  parrits,  macaws, 
parrakeets,  but  this  yer  is  a  mawvil  of  a 
bird.  See  'im  now  chucklin'  at  yer.  Look 
at  the  wink  in  'is  heye.  You'd  never  be 
dull  with  'im  fer  a  minnit.  'E's  a  knowin' 
one,  'e  is,  as  grateful  as  a  Christian." 

"You  need  not  bring  that  in,"  said  Miss 
Pontigreve  tartly.  "  It  is  no  recommenda- 
tion to  me.  I  think  it  is  the  grey  African 
birds  that  talk." 

"No  offence  fer  contradictin',  mum," 
repUed  the  man,  holding  up  the  dingy 
blanket  as  a  foil.  "Torks!  'E's  at  it  aU 
day.  Pretty  Polly,  Pretty  Poll,"  he 
whistled,  as  the  bird  bobbed  up  and  down. 
"  Where's  Polly's 'amper  ?  'E  was  put  in 
one  onst,  and  'e's  never  fergot  it.  'E  can 
imertate  trains  and  boys  ter  the  very  life." 

"Not  swearing,  I  hope?"  said  Miss 
Pontigreve. 

"Never  known  to  use  langwidge  but 
onst.  'E  called  the  station-master's  wife 
a  name  which  you  would  not  wish  me  to 
repeat,  mum.  She  give  'im  the  stick  fer  it, 
and  ever  sence  'e's  'ad  a  sort  of  a  slight 
prejerdice  agin  the  female  persuasion. 
But  with  a  lidy  in  a  bewtiful  'ome — " 

"I  haven't  said  I  would  buy  him," 
said  Miss  Pontigreve,  quickly.  "I  know 
nothing  of  parrots.  What  are  they  fed 
on?" 

The  man  produced  a  packet  from  the 
breast  of  his  seedy  coat. 

"'Ere's  the  mixture.  You  can  buy  it 
at  any  seed  shop.  'E's  an  uncommon 
bird — be  ^ninderful  comp'ny  fer  you, 
mum.  You  cud  stand  the  cige  in  there  on 
the  floor,  or  get  'im  a  perch  out  'ere  and 
'e'd  set  on  that  with  a  chine  round  'is  leg 
as  'appy  as  possible.  'E'U  keep  you  aUve. 
Look  at  'im  bowing.  'E's  tuk  a  reg'lar 
fancy  ter  you,  mum." 

"i  don't  know,"  hesitated  Miss  Ponti- 
greve; looking  at  the  bird,  who  had  erected 
his  crest  and  was  cmrtseying  on  his  perch. 

"The  station-master's  emigratin',  and 


356 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


in  cors  a  bit  er  money  'ud  come  useful,  but 
'e  won't  arst  more  'n  two  guineas.  It's 
jest  the  'ome.  It's  been  a  rare  job  fer  'im 
ter  part  witli  the  bird." 

"The  parrot  is  in  good  health,  I  sup- 
pose?" 

"'Ealth!  'E's  in  prime  condition — a 
fine  young  bird.  'E'll  Uve  a  censhury 
barrin'  axdent,  and  in  years  to  come — may 
the  time  be  far  distant,  mum! — you  cud 
will  'im  ter  the  Zoo.  They  ain't  got  none 
like  'im.  Two  guineas;  it's  nothink — 
cige,  food,  kiver " 

"You  may  keep  the  cover,"  said  Miss 
Pontigreve,  feeling  for  her  purse.  "  Leave 
the  cage  there.  Yes — take  the  cover  away 
with  you,  please." 

II 

Mr.  Tipples  sat  in  his  pantry  with  a 
disturbed  expression  on  his  countenance. 
The  cook,  a  buxom  personage,  with  her 
right  arm  in  a  sling,  was  standing  by  the 
door;  also  Emma,  the  housemaid.  Both 
looked  "upset,"  and  the  cook  held  a 
handkerchief  in  her  uninjured  hand.  All 
appeared  to  be  listening  for  something. 

"Hall — eeee — loool  Hall — eeee — looo! 
Hall — eee — looooo — oo!"  The  shrieks 
were  repeated  twice  and  thrice  ■\\-ith  in- 
creasing force  each  time.  The  expression 
on  Mr.  Tipples'  face  deepened  into  a  look 
of  ineffable  disgust. 

"Sunday  afternoon,"  he  said.  "And  a 
week  ago  this  was  a  respectable  'ouse." 

"I  'aven't  a  nerve  but  what  isn't  shat- 
tered completely,"  bemoaned  the  cook, 
pressing  the  handkerchief  to  her  eyes. 
"And  there's  Richard  %\-ith  four  fingers 
tied  up  with  the  cruel  nips  'e's  got  putting 
the  food  in  the  cage,  and  the  poor  little 
feller  goin'  about  lookin'  so  miserable, 
feeling  that  the  dog  got  lost  through  him 
being  late  in  the  garden." 

"It's  my  firm  belief  and  conviction," 
said  Mr.  Tipples,  "that  the  miscreant  what 
took  in  the  missus  with  tales  of  good  homes 
and  emigrating  station-masters — though  I 
could  understand  anybody  going  to  the 
end  of  the  world  to  get  away  from  that 
feathered  demon — is  the  person  we  shovdd 
look  for  if  we  want  to  find  the  dog.  I'm 
a  man  of  obsen'ation,  and  I  can  put  two 
and  two  together." 


' '  Hal— lee— loo !— Hal— lee— loo  1  Hal 
— leee — looool" 

The  shrieks  were  even  more  piercing 
than  before.  The  cook  and  housemaid 
put  their  fingers  in  their  ears.  A  bell 
rang  sharply. 

"That's  for  Richard  to  bring  the  bird 
indoors,"  said  Mr.  Tipples,  rising.  "I 
dessay  he's  in  want  of  a  lead  pencil  or  a 
finger  to  chaw  up.  The  neighbourhood 
must  be  thinking  we've  gone  mad.  There 
was  complaints  yesterday.  To-morrow 
you  may  be  on  the  lookout  for  summonses. " 

With  this  reassuring  forecast  Mr.  Tip- 
ples departed.  He  found  his  mistress  at 
the  drawing-room  window.  The  cage 
was  on  the  middle  of  the  lawTi,  with  the 
disconsolate  Richard  in  attendance. 

"I  thought  that  green  might  be  sooth- 
ing," said  Miss  Pontigreve.  "But  per- 
haps he  had  better  bring  the  bird  in, 
and—" 

"Hal — lee — looo — ool "  broke  the  after- 
noon stillness. 

Some  passers-by  stopped  to  look  over 
the  gate. 

"Bring  in  the  cage  at  once,  Richard," 
called  his  mistress. 

The  boy  picked  it  up  gingerly  from  the 
bottom,  holding  his  head  back  as  far  as 
possible,  and  staggered  past  the  window. 

Some  cheerful  screeches  marked  the 
passage  through  the  house,  and,  with  a  sig- 
nificant grunt,  Mr.Tipples  opened  the  door. 

Richard  put  the  cage  dov\Ti,  and  stood 
ner\-ously  aloof.  However,  the  parrot 
now  seemed  restored  to  good  humour,  and 
bobbed  and  chortled  gaily.  The  bottom 
of  the  cage  was  littered  with  a  variety  of 
propitiator}'  ofi'erings  reduced  to  splinters 
of  wood  and  bone. 

"As  he  gets  more  used  to  us,  he  will 
calm  down;  it  is  being  with  strangers,  no 
doubt,"  said  the  old  ladv.  "Well,  Polly! 
Pretty  PoUy!" 

But  her  approach  seemed  to  goad  the 
bird  to  frenzy.  He  s^^'^mg  himself  wildly 
on  his  ring,  and  dashed  against  the  bars, 
uttering  a  series  of  the  most  vociferous 
"Hal — lee — loos." 

"Where's  the  cloth?  Throw  it  over. 
Anvlhing  to  stop  that  desprit  noise,"  cried 
Mr.  Tipples. 

It  ceased  as  suddenly  as  it  had  begun, 


MISS   PONTIGREVE'S   PARROT 


357 


and  queer,  low  chuckles  emanated  from 
beneath  the  cover  as  though  the  bird  took 
a  dehght  in  his  scandalous  behaviour. 

"They  talk  best,  I  believe,  when  covered 
up,"  said  Miss  Pontigreve,  chnging  ob- 
stinately to  a  last  hope. 

"This  one's  no  talking  bird,"  said  Air. 
Tipples  firmly,  feeling  that  she  must  be 
imdeceived.  "Not  a  word  has  he  said 
since  you've  had  him,  ma'am.  He's 
nothink  but  a  screamer;  it's  a  shameful 
imposition  on  a  lady,  as  I  ventured  to  re- 
mark before,  and  if  we  could  lay  our  hands 
on  that  swindhng  rogue,  it's  my  behef  we 
shouldn't  be  far  off  from  Fluffy." 

Richard  gave  vent  to  a  melancholy  sniff. 
He  was  burdened  '  by  a  sense  of  guilty 
responsibility  for  the  loss  of  the  pet  whom 
the  whole  household  mourned. 

The  spinster's  face  quivered  slightly. 

"  Go  and  ask  in  the  kitchen  for  another 
chicken  bone,"  she  said,  walking  over  to 
the  fireplace  where  the  poor  little  empty 
basket  stood.  "I  will  double  the  reward 
if  we  hear  nothing  by  to-morrow,"  she 
added. 

"Well,  we  must  hope  for  good  news," 
replied  Mr.  Tipples  in  a  despondent  voice. 
"It's  clear  enough  to  me.  Fluffy  wasn't 
a  dog  to  wander.  He  was  took,  picked  up 
by  that  scamp.  I  can  see  the  whole  thing 
with  my  eyes  shut." 

Richard  returned  with  the  bone,  and  a 
note,  which  Miss  Pontigreve  opened  and 
read: 

"MAL.A.BAR  Lodge,  Western  Avenue, 
"Sept.  28th. 

"Colonel  Curry  presents  his  compH- 
ments  to  IMiss  Pontigreve,  and  begs  to 
state  that  his  life  has  been  rendered  abso- 
j  lutely  intolerable  for  the  past  three  days 
'  by  the  squalling  of  the  parrot  she  has  in- 
j  troduced  into  her  household.  Unless  the 
I  nuisance  subsides,  he  will  be  forced  to  put 
;  the  matter  into  the  hands  of  his  solicitors." 

'  Miss  Pontigreve  sat  down  in  perplexed 
silence,  which  was  speedily  broken  by  a 
"Hal — lee — loo!"  in  the  bird's  most 
enthusiastic  manner,  accompanied  by  a 
\  yell  from  Richard,  who  had  been  poking 
I  the  bone  under  the  cover  and  retired  \\'ith 
another  wounded  finger. 

"Any  answer,  ma'am?"  inquired  Mr. 
Tipples,  who  divined  the  contents  of  the 


communication  with  considerable  acciu:- 
acy. 

"Take  the  cage  into  the  morning-room, 
and  shut  the  door  and  window,"  said  Miss 
Pontigreve,  "and  tell  Richard  to  call  at 
Dr.  Bedford's  on  his  way  to  church,  and 
ask  him  to  come  to-morrow  morning." 

Ill 

"The  man  told  you  he  imitated  trains 
and  boys — two  of  the  noisiest  things  in  the 
world,"  said  Dr.  Bedford.  "Really,  my 
dear  lady — " 

They  were  in  the  raoming-room,  where 
the  bird,  exhilarated  by  change  of  air  and 
scene,  had  given  them  a  spirited  greeting. 

Dr.  Bedford  stood  in  front  of  the  cage, 
eyeing  him  with  a  professional  air.  "  Well, 
Polly,  and  how  are  we  to  quiet  you  ?  Is  it 
a  case  of  severing  the  vocal  cord?" 

"Don't  talk  vivisection,"  said  Miss 
Pontigreve  sharply. 

Her  old  friend  laughed  heartily.  "  Well, 
what  am  I  to  suggest?  Something  will 
have  to  be  done  for  the  sake  of  the  neigh- 
bours." 

He  turned  towards  a  number  of  letters 
scattered  on  the  table.  ]Miss  Pontigreve 
took  up  one,  written  on  scented  paper, 
with  a  heavy  gilt  monogram. 

" '  Inverness,  Western  Avenue, 
"Sept.  28th. 
"Mrs.  Waterford-Smythe  encloses  a 
medical  certificate  showing  that  she  is  laid 
up  with  a  severe  attack  of  nervous  pros- 
tration from  the  fearful  screeching  of 
your  bird.  She  does  not  want  to  make 
unpleasantness,  but  it  must  be  put  a  stop 
to  immediately." 

"Waterford-Smythe,  indeed!"  exclaim- 
ed the  old  lady,  flinging  dowTi  the  missive. 
"Did  you  ever  hear  such  impertinence? 
They  were  Smiths  till  they  made  their  for- 
tune out  of  waterproofs  and  mackintoshes! 
And  I  believe  the  bird  will  quiet  down 
when  he  grows  more  accustomed  to  us — 
he  did  not  shriek  once  while  the  man  was 
with  him.  I  wish  you  could  help  me  to 
find  poor  Fluffy." 

"I  take  Tipples'  view,"  said  Dr.  Bed- 
ford. "However,  the  reward  is  a  bait. 
Shall  I  call  at  the  police-station,  and  give 
notice  that  you  will  increase  it?    Very 


358 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


well.  Perhaps  they  might  take  Polly  at 
the  Zoo.  Why  not  inquire?  Let  me 
know  if  I  can  do  anything." 

His  going  was  a  signal  for  a  fresh  out- 
burst on  the  part  of  the  bird,  in  the  midst 
of  which  Mr.  Tipples  appeared.  His 
face  wore  a  hopeful  look  which  had  been 
strange  to  it  of  late.  He  bore  a  salver,  on 
which  was  a  plate  containing  a  small 
quantity  of  green  stuff. 

"Cook  says  she's  heard  that  parsley  is 
poison  to  'em,  ma'am,"  he  said,  dropping 
his  voice  to  a  mysterious  whisper.  "It 
might  be  worth  trying." 

But  experiment  only  falsified  another 
theory.  Polly's  cage  was  strewn  with 
morsels  of  the  classic  herb,  and  the  many 
"fatal"  doses  he  assimilated  only  acted  as 
a  tonic  as  far  as  his  voice  was  concerned. 
After  lunch  he  was  banished  to  an  up- 
stairs room  to  see  what  solitary  confine- 
ment would  do,  but  his  protests  grew  so 
uproarious  that  Richard  and  Emma  took 
turns  at  keeping  him  company  by  ten- 
minute  shifts. 

Miss  Pontigreve  spent  the  afternoon  in 
a  fruitless  visit  to  the  Zoological  Gardens, 
and  thence  went  to  the  Dogs'  Home,  where 
there  was  no  trace  of  Flufi'y.  A  full  do- 
mestic conclave  was  held  meanwhile  in 
Mr.  Tipples'  pantry,  at  which  Richard, 
during  one  of  his  ten  minutes  off,  timidly 
made  a  suggestion  which  seemed  so  prom- 
ising to  Mr.  Tipples  that  he  resolved  to 
communicate  it  to  his  mistress. 

Miss  Pontigreve  had  little  appetite  for 
her  solitary  dinner  that  evening.  She 
gazed  with  abstracted  eyes  at  the  vacant 
chair  and  cushion  which  was  wont  to  be 
occupied  by  her  little  companion. 

"I  will  not  take  any  dessert,"  said  she, 
pushing  aside  a  dish  of  fine  pears. 

Mr.  Tipples  took  the  decanters  back  to 
the  sideboard,  fidgeted  a  little,  and  re- 
turned to  the  table. 

"The  lad,  ma'am,  has  an  ideer,"  he 
observed. 

The  old  lady  looked  up. 

"About  getting  rid  of  the  bird,"  he 
continued. 

"Yes,"  she  said. 

"The  lad's  early  'ome  was  down  by  the 
docks,"  the  butler  went  on,  "and  he  says 
he  knows  shops  that  buy  parrots  and  sech 
from  the  sailors.     Whv  not  send  the  bird 


there  to  be  disposed  of  for  what  he  would 
fetch  ?  You  would  not  mind  if  it  was  less 
than  you  gave  for  him,  ma'am  ?" 

"No,"  said  Miss  Pontigreve,  thought- 
fully. "You  and  Richard  might  go  and 
try,  perhaps." 

Mr.  Tipples  gave  a  deprecating  cough. 

"Well — under  the  circumstances, 
ma'am,  I  really  shouldn't  hke  leaving  the 
'ouse.  It  might  not  be  pleasant  for  you, 
ma'am,  with  these  complaints  and  injunc- 
tions coming  in,  and  I  know  nothink  of 
them  low  parts.  I  would  suggest  that 
cook  should  go  with  Richard.  She's 
willing,  and  the  lad  knows  the  way  weU, 
he  says." 

Miss  Pontigreve  considered  the  pro- 
posal. 

"No,"  she  said  suddenly,  "I  will  go 
with  Richard  myself  to-morrow  morning. 
Send  him  to  me." 

IV 

The  cab  stopped  at  the  comer  of  a 
narrow  street,  blocked  with  meat  and 
vegetable  stalls,  around  which  surged  a 
throng  of  dirty,  foreign-looking  people. 

Richard  jumped  down  from  his  place  by 
the  driver. 

"It's  dowTi  'ere,  ma'am,"  he  said  at  the 
cab  door.  "Cabby  says  he  can't  drive 
no  further.  Shall  I  go  and  you  wait? 
It's  a  rough  place." 

At  sight  of  the  numerous  faces  peering 
in  on  either  side,  a  nerv^ous  qualm  passed 
over  the  old  lady,  sitting  erect  in  her  black 
silk  mantle,  but  she  braced  herself  to  the 
adventure  with  characteristic  determina- 
tion. 

"I  think  I  will  come,  too,"  she  said. 

The  cage,  neatly  shrouded  in  brown 
paper,  was  lifted  from  the  roof  of  the  cab 
with  the  driver's  assistance,  the  bird,  who 
seemed  to  approve  of  motion,  contenting 
himself  with  a  few  bass  chuckles.  They 
walked  down  the  street,  followed  by  a 
curious  throng,  who  made  free  comments 
upon  Miss  Pontigreve's  appearance  and 
the  neat  livery  of  her  attendant.  They 
stopped  at  length  before  a  dingy  shop  with 
a  glazed  front,  over  which  was  the  in- 
scription, "S.  Hyman,  Live  Stock  Mer- 
chant, Dealer  in  Foreign  Curios." 

A  collarless  youth,  with  an  vmpleasant 
squint,  who  was  smoking  and  lounging  in 


MISS   PONTIGREVE'S   PARROT 


359 


the  doorway,  stared  sharply  as  they  enter- 
ed. It  was  a  dark,  ill-smelling  place,  full 
of  cages  and  hutches  containing  parrots, 
canaries,  dogs,  cats,  rabbits,  and  a  lively 
family  of  monkeys.  There  was  a  stack 
of  empty  cages  in  one  corner,  and  on  the 
other  side  a  litter  of  dusty  objects,  evident- 
ly the  foreign  curio  department. 

A  door  at  the  back  of  the  shop  stood 
ajar.  A  tattered  curtain  was  half-drawn 
across  the  upper  glass  panels.  Two  or 
three  figures  could  be  seen  beyond. 

Richard  set  down  the  heavy  cage  with 
relief.  The  youth  who  had  entered  after 
them  fixed  his  crooked  gaze  on  them  both. 

"Votcher  vant?"  he  said  in  a  thick 
voice  with  a  strong  Ghetto  accent. 

"We  wish  to  dispose  of  a  parrot,"  said 
Miss  Pontigreve,  holding  her  black  silk 
skirt  clear  of  the  floor. 

"Boss!"  bawled  the  youth,  without 
relaxing  his  stare. 

The  door  opened,  and  the  proprietor  of 
the  estabhshment  appeared.  He  was  as 
unkempt  as  the  other,  with  a  dark,  cun- 
ning face. 

"Vant  ter  sell  parrit,"  said  the  youth, 
with  a  jerk  of  his  thumb  and  a  private 
wink. 

The  man  walked  up  to  the  cage  and 
ptdled  off  the  wrappings.  The  bird  swung 
himself  excitedly,  danced,  and  curtseyed, 
as  though  he  recognised  an  old  acquaint- 
ance, contributing  his  part  to  the  incessant 
chorus   of   chirps,    cro^vings,   and   yelps. 

"Vy  do  you  vant  to  sell  'eem?"  asked 
the  man,  turning  to  Miss  Pontigreve. 

"To  tell  the  truth,  I  find  him  rather  too 
much  for  me  as  a  pet,"  she  replied.  "I 
did  not  know  that  parrots  were  so  noisy — " 

'"Taint  a  parrit,"  he  interrupted  short- 
ly; "it's  a  bare-eyed  cockatoo.  Screech- 
eth  orful,  and  thet's  vy  you  do  not  vant 
to  kip  'eem." 

"He  gets  on  better  with  gentlemen  than 
with  females,"  put  in  Richard,  feeling 
that  the  value  of  the  goods  was  being.im- 
duly  depreciated. 

"Does  'e,  ole  sport?"  said  the  youth, 
with  a  coarse  laugh,  in  which  the  man 
joined.     Then  he  turned  to  the  cage  again. 

"Veil,  vat  do  you  vant  for  'eem?  Or 
vill  you  take  anoder  bird  for  exchange?" 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Miss  Pontigreve,  hastily, 
"but  I  shall  be  glad  to  come  to  terms," 


she    added.     "What    do    you    offer    for 
him?" 

The  pair  exchanged  another  wink; 
then  the  man  said: 

"You  vish  to  be  rid  of  'eem?  Dot  is 
vot  it  is.  You  can  leave  'eem  'ere  fer  a 
quid." 

"A  quid?" 

"He  means  you  to  pay  a  sovereign  for 
him  to  take  the  bird,  ma'am,"  explained 
Richard  in  a  rapid  aside.  "Let's  try 
somewhere  else.     I  know  another  shop." 

"You  von't  choke  'im  orf  no  cheaper," 
said  the  youth.  '"E's  a  screecher.  No- 
body von't  buy  a  bare-eyed  cockatoo  if 
they  know  it." 

"He  was  sold  to  me  for  two  guineas," 
said  the  old  lady.  She  broke  off  with  a 
sudden  start,  and  stared,  as  though  fas- 
cinated, at  the  door  in  the  background. 
A  young  woman,  with  a  head  bristling  with 
curlers,  was  looking  out,  and  behind  her 
stood  a  man,  half  screened  by  the  curtain. 

"I  'ave  my  beezniss.  Vill  you  leave 
'eem  or  take  'eem  avay?"  said  the  man  in 
the  shop. 

"I  will  leave  him,"  said  Miss  Ponti- 
greve, decisively,  taking  a  pound  from  her 
purse  and  handing  it  over.  "Come, 
Richard." 

With  a  final  glance  in  the  direction  of  the 
torn  curtain,  she  turned  to  go,  stumbling 
and  almost  treading  on  a  little  black  object 
which  had  bounded  out  from  somewhere, 
and  was  tugging  the  border  of  her  skirt, 
and  jumping  about  her  feet,  with  ecstatic 
little  snaps  and  barks.  Miss  Pontigreve 
stopped  down  with  a  cry  of  amazement. 

"Fluffy!" 

Dirty,  uncombed,  and  collarless  as  the 
squint-eyed  youth,  it  was  Fluffy  himself. 
His  mistress  picked  him  up  with  trembling 
hands. 

"  This  is  the  dog  I  have  lost.  However 
came  he  here  ?  " 

"Dot's  a  nice  von,"  said  the  man, 
roughly.  "A  vail  able  schpaniel  vort  five 
quid." 

"It  is  my  own  dog,"  repeated  Miss 
Pontigreve,  clasping  the  recovered  treas- 
ure tightly  under  her  cloak. 

"Oh,  come,  ma'am,  come!"  cried 
Richard,  excitedly. 

They  had  the  advantage  of  being  close 
to  the  doorway,  and  were  quickly  outside, 


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THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


followed,  however,  by  the  man  and  the 
youth.  The  young  woman  with  the 
curlers  came  running  out  also,  and  a 
crowd  gathered  as  if  by  magic. 

"Hand  back  that  dawg!"  demanded 
the  man  threateningly.  "It  is  vort  five 
quid." 

"It  is  my  own  dog,  which  was  stolen 
from  me,"  said  Miss  Pontigreve,  endeav- 
ouring to  press  on. 

"  Dere's  a  revort  out  fer  'im,  ain't  dere  ?  " 
said  the  youth.     "Den  p'y  up  ze  revort." 

"I  have  paid  a  pound  already  and  left 
the  bird  and  the  cage." 

"Det's  a  good  'un,"  said  the  youth, 
addressing  the  crowd.  "She's  a  bilker, 
she  is,  comin'  down  'ere  in  silks  and  settins 
to  schvindle  pore  people." 

There  was  an  ugly  murmur  in  response 
from  the  mob,  who  were  beginning  to 
press  them  in. 

"Had  I  better  try  and  push  through  and 
get  the  cabman?"  whispered  Richard, 
breathlessly. 

"No — no,  stay  by  me!"  gasped  his 
mistress,  clutching  Fluffy  tighter. 

"You  don't  go  a  step  furder  till  you 
give  me  back  de  dawg,"  the  man  said, 
seizing  hold  of  her  arm.  The  red-haired 
assistant  thrust  Richard  aside.  The 
crowd  swelled  and  pressed  tighter.  Their 
faces  began  to  swim  before  the  old  lady's 
eyes.  Rough  hands  were  pulling  at  her 
cloak,  but  she  clutched  Fluffy  tighter  still. 

"  W'Tiat's  all  this  ?  "  cried  a  voice  strange- 
ly familiar  to  her  ears. 

A  tall  young  man  in  a  long  black  coat, 
to  which  Richard  was  cHnging  desperately, 
strode  into  the  middle  of  the  frav. 

"What's    all    this ?    WTiy,"    in    a 

voice  of  utter  astonishment,  "Aunt  Fe- 
licia !  WTiat  on  earth  are  you  doing  here  ? 
WTiat  is  the  matter?" 

"Felix!"  ejaculated  Miss  Pontigreve, 
with  relief  and  surprise.  "Help  me  to  get 
away.     Our  cab  is  at  the  comer." 

"Take  your  hand  off  this  lady's  arm  at 
once,"  said  the  tall  young  man,  sternly. 
H}TTian  obeyed,  but  stood  menacingly. 

"She's  got  a  dawg  of  mine  imder  'er 
cloak,  vich  she  must  p'y  for." 

"  A  dog  of  yours  ?  " 

"It  is  my  own  dog,  Fluffy,  who  was 
stolen  last  week.  I  found  him  here," 
said  his  avmt. 


"P'y  up  ze  revort  zen!"  interposed  the 
red-haired  assistant. 

"I  have  given  him  a  sovereign  and  the 
parrot,"  returned  Miss  Pontigreve,  point- 
ing to  the  "Boss." 

"The  parrot?"  echoed  the  Rev.  Felix. 

"I  will  tell  you  everything  as  soon  as  we 
are  in  the  cab.  Oh,  do  go  on!"  the  poor 
lady  urged. 

"Make  way  at  once,  please,"  said  the 
tall  young  clergyman  to  the  crowd  still 
hanging  eagerly  around  them.  "Now, 
one  moment,"  turning  to  the  angr\'  man 
and  his  assistant.  "You  accuse  this  lady 
of  taking  a  dog  which  she  declares  is  her 
o%vn  property,     ^^^lat  is  your  name?" 

"Solomon  Hyman,"  repHed  the  man 
sullenly. 

"And  that  is  your  shop,  Mr.  Solomon 
H}'man.  Very  well.  You  and  I  will 
settle  this  matter  later  on.  You  will  find 
me  at  St.  Mary's,  Blackyard  Lane.  Now, 
please." 

Before  Miss  Pontigreve  would  have 
believed  it  possible  she  foimd  herself 
in  the  cab  driving  back  to  the  station 
with  the  faithful  Richard  on  the  box, 
Fluffy  safe  in  her  lap,  and  her  nephew 
beside  her. 

"I  can't  help  thinking  that  the  man  I 
saw  behind  the  door  was  the  man  who 
made  me  buy  the  parrot,"  she  concluded. 

"That  is  quite  within  the  bounds  of 
possibihty,"  said  the  Rev.  Felix. 

"And  that  you  should  have  happened 
to  come  up!" 

"I  had  been  to  the  hospital  to  see  a  poor 
dying  child.  It  was  that  smart  lad, 
Richard,  who  spotted  me." 

"As  if  anyone  could  help  spotting  you, 
as  you  call  it,"  said  the  old  lady,  with  a 
proud  glance  at  the  tall  form  beside  her. 
"But,  oh!  my  dear  boy,  what  a  place! 
What  people!" 

"You  have  seen  one  little  glimpse," 
said  her  nephew,  with  his  hand  on  hers. 
"And  there  is  so  much  more — infinitely 
worse.  I  have  wanted  you  so  much  to  see 
for  yourself,  for  I  knew  that  when  you 
realised  what  the  need  is  you  would  feel 
you  could  spare  one  to  it." 

Miss  Pontigreve  stroked  Fluffy's  tangled 
mop  with  tremulous  fingers,  and  was 
silent  awhile.  "I  have  been  a  foolish  old 
woman,  Felix,"  she  said  suddenly  at  last. 


Canada's  citizen  soldiers — governor-general's  body  guard  on  church  parade 


Patriotic  Military  Service 

By  LT.-COL.  WILLIAM  HAMILTON  MERRITT 


A  further  plea  for  a  popular  military  service  in  Canada, 
with  an  appreciation  of  the  Swiss  System 


N  a  previous  article  we  en- 
deavoured to  show  that  the 
feeling  in  Canada  is  that  the 
Dominion  should  exist  as  it 
is.  To  that  end  Canada 
needs  some  form  of  military  service,  having 
as  its  basis  patriotic  or  universal  service, 
many  types  of  which  exist  all  over  the 
world. 

I  endeavoured  to  point  out  that  much 
misconception  exists  with  reference  to  the 
so-called  conscription,  patriotic  or  uni- 
versal service.  I  quoted  Col.  Favre,  an 
eminent  Swiss,  on  the  marked  benefits 
to  the  individual  and  the  people  at  large 
that  had  resulted  in  Switzerland  since  the 
adoption  of  that  form  of  military  service 
and  since  they  had  discarded  the  "dollar 
system"  which  we  have  in  Canada. 

.5—36 1 


It  is  a  curious  thing  how  in  the  minds  of 
some  the  cart  has  been  twisted  before  the 
horse  with  reference  to  mihtary  service, 
how  the  paid  professional  has  been  given 
the  place  of  honour  as  over  the  patriotic 
citizen  soldier,  who,  at  personal  loss  and 
inconvenience,  is  giving  his  time  and  means 
to  his  country  because  it  is  absolutely 
necessary. 

The  misconception  is  not  confined  to 
Canada ;  it  exists  in  the  ^lotherland,  as  is 
evinced  by  the  following  verses  which 
appeared  not  long  ago  in  the  London 
Punch: 

the  birthright  of  the  free 

(Mr.  Haldane,  in  exposing  his  new  army 
scheme,  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  the  coun- 
try 'will  not  be  dragooned  into  conscription." 
In  other,  and  less  conventional  terms,  it  is  the 


362 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


inalienable  right  of  the  freeborn  British  citi- 
zen to  decline  to  lift  a  finger  in  his  country's 
defence.) 

O  city  clerk,  in  whom  the  hopes  are  stored 
Of  England's  manhood,  let  me  talk  with 
you — 
With  you,   whose  pen  is  mightier  than  the 
sword 
(And  far,  far  safer,  too). 

Soon  you  will  trip  to  some  salubrious  Spa, 
Or  pluck  delight  from  South-end  shrimps 
and  tea ; 

Flaunting  beneath  a  so-called  Panama, 
Beside  the  so-called  sea. 

There  you  will  blow  the  expense  and  softly  lie 
In  some  hotel  abutting  on  the  brine, 

And  have  your  food  (en  pension)  served  vou 
by 
A  waiter  from  the  Rhine. 

Him  you  will  treat  with  well-deserved  con- 
tempt. 
Poor  Teuton,  seared  with  vile  conscription's 
brand. 
Not,  like  yourself,  a  gentleman  exempt 
From  duty  to  his  land. 

You  are  a  free-born  city  clerk,  and  boast 
That  you  can  buy  the  necessary  slaves — 

Tommies  that  undertake  to  man  the  coast, 
And  Tars  to  walk  the  waves. 

Besides,  the  leisure  hours  in  which  vou  slack 


Are  owed  to  sport — the  Briton's  primal  law ; 
You  have  to  watch  a  game  of  ball,  or  back 
A  horse  you  never  saw. 

Splendid,  mon  brave!    you  have  a   sporting 
nerve 
Unknown  to  these  dull  churls  of  Teuton 
breed ; 
Yet  here's  a  man  has  learned  at  least  to  serve 
His  Fatherland  at  need 

He  sings  his  Wacht  am  Rhein,  and,  if  the 
thing 
Wants  watching  with  a  rifle,  he'll  be  there ; 
When  you've  invited  Heaven  to  "save  the 
^  King," 
You  think  you've  done  your  share. 

They've  taught  him  how  to  march  in  fight- 
ing kit 

And  drill  a  likely  hole  in  human  butts; 
You  have  no  discipline  and  couldn't  hit 

A  haystack,  not  for  nuts. 

His  women-folk  are  safe  in  their  appeal 
To  his  protection  when  the  bullets  skirl, 

While  your  "fionsy" — well,  I  really  feel 
Quite  sorry  for  the  girl. 

For  this  poor  "conscript"  whom  the  tyrants 
grind, 
Though  he  may  miss  your  British  freedom's 
scope;  ., 
Yet  knows  the  use  of  arms,  where  vou  would 
find 
Your  legs  your  only  hope. 


< 

1       i-        •* 

tf^dlH 

L^^ 

^K^^^^^^^^^^^r^^^ ,                   9 

;---"  ^^^^-yV^^T^^         HfeSfl 

\  ..■^^,^j^^,'t^ 

p        ^  mm^m^  19E^  i= 

--^i-a^^^gpp^                                                 •    ■ 

'-^alBHHiMI 

SWITZERL.^XD's    citizen    soldiers A    FIELD    HOSPIT.\L 


PAIIUOTIC    MILITARY    SERVICE 


tW.i 


SWITZERLAND  S    CITIZEN    SOLDIERS CAVALRY    PORTABLE    MAXIM 


So  doff  your  hat  to  him  when  next  you  meet, 
And  pray  that,  when  his  j)rentice  task  is 
done, 
If  you  should  cross  him  on  a  raiding  beat. 
He'll  give  you  time  to  run. 

— London  Punch 

England  gradually  has  developed  a  per- 
manently paid  and  maintained  army 
because  of  her  widespread  possessions 
and  the  constant  wars  in  all  parts  of  the 
world  in  which  she  has  been  involved. 
This  force,  as  explained  by  the  present 
\\'ar-lord  in  England,  is  for  overseas-pur- 
poses, must  be  thoroughly  efficient,  every 
man  an  expert — though  som.e  cannot  hit 
a  bam-door  at  300  yards — and  the  force 
must  be  as  small  as  it  can  be  kept  with 
safety.  England  relies  on  her  na\T  to  keep 
foreign  foes  out  of  her  territory.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  continental  nations  con- 
sider home-protection,  the  integrity  of  their 
Fatherland,  as  the  matter  of  first  mo- 
ment with  them,  and,  as  set  forth  in  the 
verses  in  Punch,  they  think,  in  their  simple 
way,  that  it  is  the  first  and  highest  dut}- 
of  man  to  serve  his  coimtry,  to  defend 
his  hearth  and  home,  and  even  to  make 
some  sacrifice  to  fit  himself  to  do  so. 

The  Prussians  developed  great    excel- 


lency under  this  system,  and  England, 
seeing  this,  commenced  to  copy  many 
featiu'es  in  the  German  organisation  with- 
out adopting  the  underlying  principle. 
To  a  certain  extent  it  was  like  trying  to 
mix  oil  and  water,  hence  we  have  seen 
chopping  and  changing,  copying  and  re- 
modelling in  the  British  military  service, 
heartburnings  and  recriminations.  Royal 
Commissions  and  reorganisations,  until 
out  of  it  all  comes  the  discovery  of  the  aim 
and  object  of  the  professional  army  as 
laid  down  by  the  present  War-lord,  \V.  L. 
Haldane,  Barrister-at-Law,  who  has  struck 
the  right  nail  on  the  head,  as  above  quoted. 
In  the  last  article  I  alluded  to  the  power- 
ful organisations  and  to  the  influential 
personages  in  Great  Britain  who  are  ad- 
vocating the  patriotic  service  system, 
either  in  addition  to  the  force  for  "over- 
seas-purposes/' or  to  include  this  as  a 
voluntary  branch,  I  do  not  know  which. 
I  pointed  out  the  patent  fact — which  it 
almost  insults  a  Canadian's  intelligence 
to  stop  to  allude  to — that  if  the  slightest 
shadow  of  a  reason  exists  for  patriotic 
service  in  England,  protected  by  her  battle- 
ships,  every  argument   is  emphasised  a 


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THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


Lhousand  times  for  the  same  for  Canada 
with  her  long  line  of  undefended  frontier, 
which  never  can  be  protected  by  other 
means  than  by  loyal  men  and  true ! 

Strange  to  say  in  our  case,  in  Canada, 
while  situated  similarly  to  the  patriotic 
service  countries  on  the  continent  of  Eu- 
rope, and  unlike  England,  we  have  bhndly 
followed  the  British  dollar-system  for  the 
mihtia  of  Canada,  and  have  been  raising 
an  "over-seas-purposes"  permanent  force 
because  it  exists  in  the  British  Service. 
Of  course  the  more  services  of  any  kind 
with  appointments  in  the  hands  of  the 
Government  the  more  positions  there  are 
for  friends  of  whichever  party  happens  to 
be  in  power;  therefore,  so  long  as  the  tax- 
payer is  satisfied,  so  long  will  the  number 
of  a  permanent  force  continue  to  grow. 

But  is  the  force  permanent  ?  Does  the 
taxpayer  get  value  for  the  cost  ?  These  are 
matters  I  will  not  undertake  to  answer 
other  than  to  observe  that  it  is  very  com- 
monly reported  that  many  newcomers 
to  the  country  use  the  so-called  permanent 
force  as  a  convenient  stepping  stone  to  the 
United  States,  and  as  these  do  not  become 
citizens  of  the  countrv  at  all,  it  rcallv  does 


not  deser\e  its  name  of  permanent.  Then 
it  is  hinted  that  all  of  the  ofhcers,  N.C.O's 
and  men  are  not  expert  instructors,  or  even 
first-class  rifle  shots.  There  is  no  doubt 
about  the  demorahsing  influence  of  a 
large  body  of  ofiicers  and  men,  housed  and 
kept  at  great  expense,  who,  so  far  as  the 
average  citizen  can  observe,  have  nothing 
really  useful  to  do.  The  atmosphere  of 
the  whole  thing  has  a  depressing  effect  on 
the  rest  of  the  community.  If  it  was 
patent  to  every  one  that  all  of  the  oflacers 
and  other  ranks  were  expert  instructors 
and  were  distributed  as  leaven  among  the 
regiments  of  citizen  soldiers,  as  adjutants, 
caretakers  and  instructors,  then  the  aver- 
age citizen  could  soon  see  by  results  that 
the  leaven  was  "working."  Where  the 
professional  soldier  is  hived,  with  his  uni- 
form as  a  very  special  care  and  etiquette 
a  study,  then  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at 
that  a  feeling  of  personal  superiority  and  a 
tendency  to  belittle  the  citizen  soldier  is 
soon  engendered;  even  though  the  latter 
would  be  an  expert  guide  in  his  own  dis- 
trict, is  enured  to  stand  any  hardship, 
can  "rustle"  for  himself  in  the  field,  has 
used  hi?  rifle  since  bovhood.     But.  bless 


SWITZERLAND'S   CITIZEN'    SOLDIERS — A    FIELD   B.^TTERY 


PATRIOTIC    MILirVK^     Si:i{\  H  E 


365 


SWITZERLAND'S    CITIZEN    SOLDIERS A    BALLOON    DETACHMENT 

OF   THE    ENGINEERS 


your  heart,  how  can  a  man  be  a  soldier 
with  a  wrinkle  in  his  serge  and  who  eats 
with  his  knife '. 

There  is  one  very  important  considera- 
tion in  connection  with  this  whole  matter 
which  affects  the  civil  as  much  as  the  mil- 
itary aspect.  This  comes  under  that  of  the 
influence  of  some  form  of  mihtary  training 
on  the  people  at  large.  I  have  already 
alluded  to  the  great  improvement  in  the 
personnel  of  the  Swiss  army  since  the 
adoption  of  universal  ser\'ice  as  pointed 
out  by  Col.  Camille  Fa\Te.  The  same 
officer  in  connection  with  discipline  and 
health  goes  on  to  sav : 


"  In  a  battahon  of  national  mihtia  where 
men  of  lo  or  12  different  classes  or  years 
are  mixed,  there  are  always  some  of  at 
least  30  years  of  age  who  are  accustomed 
to  deaUng  with  men  and  are  used  to  exact- 
ing obedience,  who  have  a  proper  feeling 
of  their  own  responsibihties  in  ci\'il  life,  and 
as  high  a  sense  of  their  military  duty  as 
an  officer.  It  is  to  the  good  feehng  and 
pride  of  these  men  that  we  have  to  appeal 
for  the  preservation  of  discipline,  just  as 
in  the  case  of  their  superiors  we  appeal  to 
their  sense  of  honour.  There  are,  of  course, 
others,  rough,  insubordinate,  incapable 
of  any  finer  feeUngs,  for  whom  there  is, 


366 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


alas!  nothing  but  the  guard-room  and  the 
cells.  But  on  the  whole  the  discipline  of 
the  heart,  which  is,  so  to  speak,  natural  to 
the  better  class  of  men  and  carries  the 
coarser  natures  along  with  it,  makes  com- 
mon cause  with  the  discipline  of  the  head 
in  the  progress  of  military  science,  and  tits 
in  with  the  requirements  of  modern  war, 
which  demands  from  its  humblest  partic- 
ipants, including  the  pri\ate  soldier,  so 
large  a  measure  of  initiative";  and  "Health 
is  only  another  word  for  the  discipline  of 
the  body,  and  the  physical  advantages 
that  accrue  to  the  nation  from  military 
service  are  no  less  than  the  moral  gains. 

"This  is  so  universally  beheved  through- 
out the  country  that  I  am  not  aware  that 
there  has  ever  been  any  necessity  to  prove 
it.  I  shall  not,  therefore,  quote  any 
statistics,  but  I  shall  confine  myself  to 
asserting  that  according  to  the  best  author- 
ities, the  effect  of  military  service  upon  the 
general  state  of  public  health  is,  in  spite 
of  the  exertions  it  involves,  excellent. 
Certain  risks  must,  of  course,  be  run,  but 
the  occasions  on  which  serious  conse- 
quences ensue  are  rare.  The  young  men 
return  to  their  homes  thin,  sunburnt,  and 
ready  to  drop  from  want  of  sleep,  but  not 
sick.  Their  outing  has  been  practically 
one    long   holidav — of   untold    benefit    to 


those  of  sedentary  habits.  It  is  really 
surprising  how  little  sickness  there  is 
among  the  troops.  Judging  from  my 
o'ttii  experience,  and  that  of  my  comrades, 
I  believe  that  I  am  right  in  saying  that  in 
general  the  sick  men  in  a  company  of  in- 
fantry do  not  exceed  five  per  cent,  of  the 
strength,  except  in  times  of  epidemic. 
And  this  five  per  cent,  includes  many  trif- 
Hng  cases  such  as  sore  feet,  toothache,  etc., 
which  a  day's  rest  will  put  right." 

"I  have  already  shown  how  important 
it  is  for  strictly  military  reasons  to  recruit 
only  sound  men.  It  is  no  less  important 
for  hygienic  reasons." 

Mewed  therefore  in  the  light  of  Switzer- 
land's experience  it  would  appear  that 
if  Canada  reverted  to  the  mihtia  basis 
laid  dowii  by  our  forefathers,  and  which 
we  would  be  obliged  to  adopt  if  there  was 
danger  of  war,  two  things  at  least  would 
happen : 

1 .  We  should  have  not  only  an  immense- 
ly stronger  mihtia,  but  one  composed  of  a 
uniformly  higher-grade  representation  of 
our  population. 

2.  A  most  salutary  result  to  the  health, 
manners  and  bearing  of  the  whole  people 
from  a  course  of  military  training  and  its 
necessary  discipline. 

"Mens  sana  in  corpore  sano"  comes  to 


5WlTZKkL.\.\l>>    clll/i;.\    suLUKilo       A    LiKH.>^IXG    STATION 


I 


PATRKrric  MiLrrARv  sKini(  i: 


367 


us  unchallenged  from  the  palmy  days  of 
the  Grecians  and  Romans.  It  is  too  self- 
evident  to  require  argument  or  statistics 
to  prove  that  the  physical  training,  the 
fresh  air,  the  plain  diet  would  do  far  more 
than  all  the  doctors  and  medicine  in  the 
country  to  a  young  man. 

And  then  with  regard  to  manners  and 
bearing.  It  is  not  found  possible  in  any 
civilised  ])art  of  the  world  to  carry  on 
military  operations  based  on  the  fact  that 
all  men  are  equal,  and  that  the  outward 
and  visible  sign  of  that  is  best  evidenced 
by  brusque  independence  of  expression, 
amounting  on  the  part  of  many  of  those 
serving  the  public  to  downright  inso- 
lence. Such  is,  unfortunately,  the  stand- 
ard of  a  very  large  proportion  of  Canadians, 
which,  as  a  native  born  Canadian,  I  deeply 
deplore,  and  especially  that  it  is  by  no 
means  h'mited  to  the  male  sex.  If  for  no 
other  purpose  than  remedying  this  sad 
national  defect,  the  result  of  ignorance 
and  selfishness,  not  of  real  intelligence 
resulting  from  education,  enforced  mili- 
tary training  would  be  a  thing  to  be 
deeply  thankful  for.  Then  again  from  a 
sense  of  national  security  it  is  a  matter  of 
great  moment.  The  Japanese  achieved 
their  success  against  a  giant  people  be- 
cause of  their  intelligent,  high  standard  of 
sense  of  obedience  and  self-abnegation  in 
their  duty  to  Emperor  and  Fatherland. 
The  contrary  standard,  cultivated  in  Can- 
ada, is  fraught  with  danger  to  the  coun- 
try we  all  love  so  well. 

No  more  conclusive  proof  of  the  ad- 
vantage of  some  military  training,  in  its 
results  on  the  citizens,  can  be  offered  than 
by  noting  the  improvement  in  physique, 
manners  and  bearing  in  those  compara- 
tively few  young  men  who  are  patriotic 
enough  to  devote  time  voluntarily  to  the 
work  under  the  existing  svstem.  Were 
the  disadvantages  of  the  captains  being 
obliged  to  go  do^^Tl  on  their  knees  for 
recruits  and  the  custom  of  not  treating  the 
term  of  enlistment  seriously  no  longer  in 
vogue,  then  a  still  further  advantage 
would  occur  from  a  training  which  would 
I  be  done  on  a  business  basis  and  not  as  a 
I  casual  condescension  or  an  easy  way  of 
jmaking  a  few  dollars. 

In  this  article  I  have  alluded  several 
['times  to  the  svstem  of  militarv  training;  in 


Switzerland,  as  a  desirable  thing  for  Can- 
ada to  copy,  being  perhaps  the  nearest 
model  to  the  .system  our  forefathers  deem- 
ed essential  as  the  result  of  their  three 
years'  fighting  for  their  country. 

The  Swiss  .system  is  a  form  of  patriotic 
ser\ice  which  interferes  very  little  with 
business  and  gives  a  thorough  short  train- 
ing in  the  field,  in  alternate  years,  to  the 
majority  of  those  serving,  and  also  a  certain 
amount  of  shooting  every  year.  The 
preparation  for  the  military  training  com- 
mences at  school  and  the  trainings  con- 
clude before  a  man  has  lost  any  of  the 
vigour  of  youth. 

There  is  no  .standing  or  regular  army  in 
Switzerland,  but  in  its  place  a  .small  num- 
ber of  expert  instructors  assist  to  train 
the  citizen  army,  and  a  handful  of  skilled 
artisans  work  in  the  two  fortresses  to  keep 
them  in  repair,  etc.,  and  prevent  surprise 
until  that  part  of  the  citizen  army  which 
is  detailed  and  trained  for  that  special 
defence  work  can  be  mobilised  for  war. 
This  latter  common-sense  procedure  is  in 
marked  contrast  to  our  expensive  "over- 
seas-purposes" forces  at  HaUfax  and 
Esquimault.  For  practical  results  of  the 
two  systems  it  may  suffice  to  say  that  for 
less  money  than  we  are  spending  in 
Canada  on  our  smaU  force,  Switzerland 
has  an  army  of  282,000  strong,  better 
trained,  armed  and  equipped  than  our 
militia.  A  tax  is  levied  on  each  man  who 
does  not  serve.  In  Switzerland  young 
men  strive  to  get  passed  as  recruits  because 
the  mere  fact  of  not  serving  is  generally 
considered  as  a  mark  of  inferiority. 

Col.  Favre  very  strongly  advocates  a 
very  severe  medical  test.     He  says: 

"In  fact,  whichever  way  we  look  at  it, 
we  see  that  the  medical  examination  of 
the  recruit  must  be  the  primar\-  founda- 
tion of  a  imiversal  miUtia  force  like  ours, 
and  no  pains  ought  to  be  spared  to  make 
this  foundation  absolutely  sound.  For 
not  only  is  the  presence  of  men  physically 
unfit  injurious  instead  of  beneficial  to 
themselves,  but  they  become  the  greatest 
possible  hindrance  in  the  way  of  tactical 
efficiency.  I  need  not  remind  you  of  how- 
a  few  feeble  indi\aduals,  unable  to  sup- 
port fatigue  to  the  same  extent  as  their 
comrades,  may  ruin  the  work  of  the  whole 
of  their  company.     A  great  many  people 


368 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


seem  to  think  that  an}"one  is  good  enough 
for  a  militia,  and  that  all  you  have  to  do 
is  to  put  a  man  with  a  rifle  behind  every 
tree  in  the  country  in  order  to  obtain  the 
most  magnificent  results.  In  point  of 
fact  there  could  be  no  greater  mistake. 
The  less  time  there  is  to  train  an  army  in, 
the  more  necessity  it  is  to  exercise  care  in 
the  choice  of  men  and  the  means  of  train- 
ing them." 

As  opposed  to  the  dollar-system.  Col. 
Fa\Te  explains  that  "In  exchange  for 
their  military  services,  the  confederation 
pays  its  soldiers  at  a  rate  supposed  to 
cover  the  cost  of  maintenance  and  food 
while  on  duty.  The  amount  is  not,  of 
course,  payment  in  return  for  services 
rendered,  but  is  simply  intended  as  com- 
pensation. The  men  keep  their  uniform 
and  arms  in  their  own  homes;  when  they 
are  called  out  they  report  themselves  at 
the  place  of  assembly  in  their  o\mi  cantons, 
and  are  then,  in  the  course  of  a  few  hours, 
fitted  out  with  all  the  gear  they  require  to 
put  them  on  a  war  footing — ammunition, 
stores  and  carriages.  By  this  means 
every  man  is  made  familiar  with  the  pro- 
cess of  mobilisation." 

It  is  contended  that  this  system  would 
not  work  for  Canada,  that  it  would  not 
here  be  possible  to  keep  tab  on  the  men 
and  their  arms.  In  reply  to  this  I  would 
ask  how  many  men  does  a  civilian  tax- 
coUector  keep  tab  on  and  collect  taxes 
from?  If  a  civilian  were  posted  to  the 
work  of  checking  over  the  arms,  etc.,  in 
possession  of  citizen  soldiers,  as  in  Switz- 
erland, and  using  legal  means  of  having 
deficiencies  made  good,  there  would  be 
found  to  be  no  grounds  for  objection  to 
the  system.  Indeed,  the  great  advantage 
in  allowing  a  man  to  become  thoroughly 
familiar  with  his  rifle,  its  exact  shooting- 
power  and  peculiarities,  the  practice  in 
cleaning  it — which  is  very  important — and 
to  acquire  the  same  love  of  it  as  is  given  to 
a  horse  and  dog,  are  all  matters  of  such 
paramount  importance  as  to  far  outweigh 
any  sentimental  feeling  against  forms  of 
universal  service  which  so  improperly 
exists  in  the  minds  of  many  of  us  to-day. 
Lastly,  let  me  now  say  a  word  for  the 
much-imposed-upon  officers  under  our 
existing  dollar-system. 

Not  only  have  they  to  give  up  their  time 


for  the  performance  of  annual  training, 
which  less  patriotic  and  more  selfish 
fellow-citizens  can  shirk,  but  they  are 
required  gratuitously  to  devote  an  im- 
mense amount  of  time  in  recruiting, 
superintending  the  cleaning  of  all  stores, 
corresponding  at  endless  length  about 
every  trivial  claim  connected  with  pay,  in- 
jury to  men  and  horses  or  loss  of  any  stores, 
etc. — under  the  system  which  brought 
forth  from  the  Times  History  of  the 
South  African  War:  "It  is  hardly  an 
exaggeration  to  say  that  the  whole  army 
spent  the  greater  part  of  its  existence  in 
checking  its  own  accounts." 

The  Swiss  system  provides  for  no  such 
thing,  and  the  extra  time  put  in  by  officers 
is  given  in  improving  their  military  knowl- 
edge by  courses  of  instructions  at  special 
schools  for  the  purpose.  Even  in  England, 
where  there  are  so  many  men  of  wealth 
and  leisure,  no  such  sacrifice  is  demanded 
as  here.  In  Great  Britain  every  regi- 
mental commander  and  quartermaster 
is  assisted  in  the  mass  of  detail  neither  can 
escape  by  a  Government  paid  permanent- 
ly engaged  officer  as  "adjutant-quarter- 
master, "  who  saves  the  commanding 
officer  and  quartermaster  much  of  the 
time  they  are  obliged  to  put  in  for  no  pay 
under  our  "  dollar-system."  There  is  also 
provided  a  permanently  paid  regimental 
sergeant-major  who,  besides  being  in- 
structor, is  no  doubt  also  the  caretaker  of 
regimental  stores,  and  to  each  squadron 
or  company  is  given  a  permanent  instruc- 
tor who  undoubtedly  is  also  caretaker  of 
the  squadron  or  company  stores. 

While  the  permanent  instructors,  of  the 
corps  of  instructors,  could  be  used  for 
this  work,  if  thoroughly  competent,  yet 
under  our  existing  system  I  fear  that  if 
the  average  standard  of  those  existing  in 
the  present  permanent  corps  were  unload- 
ed on  regiments  in  above-mentioned  ca- 
pacities there  would  be  a  precious  howl 
from  one  end  of  the  country  to  the  other.  ; 

That  a  danger  of  this  might  exist  I '' 
might  instance  a  case  in  point,  without  in 
any  way  venturing  to  criticise  an  order 
recently  issued,  which  apparently  has  the 
effect  of  requiring  aU  caretakers  of  regi- 
mental stores  to  be  members  of  the  per-| 
manent  corps.  In  my  corps  there  was 
a    very    proficient    regimental     sergeant- 


PATRIOTIC    MILITARY   SERVICE 


369 


major  who  had  worked  his  way  up  from 
trooper,  and  who  had  acquired  much  ex- 
perience by  twice  serving  in  our  <  )wn  contin- 
gents in  the  Boer  Briton  war.  Besides  this, 
his  whole  heart  was  in  the  work,  and  I 
hoped  that  such  a  patriotic  expert  and 
enthusiast  could  be  appointed  as  a  member 
of  the  corps  in  which  he  had  been  for  many 
years,  to  look  after  the  stores  with  which 
he  was  thoroughly  familiar. 

The  above-mentioned  regulation,  how- 
ever, made  it  necessary  for  him  to  get  his 
discharge  from  his  own  regiment,  relin- 
cjuish  the  honourable  position  he  had 
worked  up  to,  and  enlist  as  a  private  in 
the  Royal  Canadian   Dragoons. 

It  might  be  considered  a  pity  if  in  any 
system  adopted  to  assist  the  over-burdened 
citizen  mihtia  officer,  on  the  basis  of  that 
existing  in  the  Motherland,  regulations 
should  debar  enthusiastic  officers  or  N.C. 
O's  from  improving  themselves  up  to  any 
required  point  and  then,  on  the  recom- 
mendation of  their  regimental  command- 
ers, being  eligible  for  appointment  as  per- 
manent instructors  and  caretakers. 

In  Switzerland  their  officers  for  the  staff 
are  taken  from  all  branches  of  the  service, 
but  must  not  be  below  the  rank  of  captain. 
As  already  mentioned,  there  are  no  perma- 
nent troops  in  Switzerland,  as  in  Canada. 
Col.  Favre  bays:  "The  corps  of  in- 
structors are  permanent  military  officials, 
taken  from  all  branches,  who  make  up  the 
corps  of  instructors.  They  receive  pay 
and  devote  themselves  exclusively  to 
military  instruction. 

"Their  principal  duty  is  to  see  that  the 
accepted  rules  and  principles  of  mihtary 
science  are  observed  and  put  in  practice 
on  a  uniform  plan  in  each  of  the  army 
corps.  To  enable  them  to  do  this  they 
have  special  charge  of  the  recruits'  course, 
where  both  officers  and  men  come  under 
the  influence  of  this  methodical  instruction. 
Besides  exercising  a  general  supervision 
over  details  of  the  annual  training,  the  in- 
structors are — at  any  rate,  in  the  higher 
ranks — the  natural  advisers  of  the  officers, 
to  whom  the  latter  may  turn  when  in 
difficulty,  their  experience  in  the  method 
of  teaching  being  of  greatest  value.  The 
object  aimed  at  is,  year  by  year,  to  make 
a  better  use  of  the  time — necessarily  very 
short — during  which  the  troops  are  under 

6 


arms.  With  this  end  in  view,  conferences 
of  instructors  are  held  annually,  at  which 
they  bring  forward  for  the  consideration 
of  the  authorities  proposals  for  improve- 
ments which  they  think  desirable — this 
arrangement  ensuring  uniformity  in  the 
teaching  throughout  the  army.  The 
results  of  these  conferences  are  communi- 
cated to  the  chiefs  of  each  arm.  The 
number  of  instructors  of  all  arms  is  about  "• 
200.  Besides  these,  there  are  officers  who 
are  aspiring  to  the  position,  and  N.C.O. 
assistant-instructors.  The  principle 
adopted  in  Switzerland  is  that  an  officer 
or  N.C.O.  of  lower  grade  must  act  in  the 
superior  rank  to  see  if  he  could  do  the  work, 
if  promoted.  To  keep  the  instruction 
thoroughly  practical  as  well  as  theoretical, 
the  instructors  themselves  are  occasionally 
taken  away  from  their  teaching  duties  and 
given  a  temporary  comrhand,  but  the  law 
distinctly  lays  down  that  not  more  than 
one-fourth  of  the  total  number  of  instruc- 
tors are  to  be  incorporated  in  regimental 
units.  If  the  higher  commands  were  al- 
ways held  by  instructors,  not  only  \vould 
their  duties  be  interfered  with  but  there 
would  be  nothing  to  encourage  the  ordin- 
ary regimental  officers.  These  latter 
would  obviously  be  relegated  to  an  inferior 
position  without  any  hope  of  promotion, 
and  would  consequently  lose  all  their 
keenness;  this  would  simply  mean  the 
ruin  of  the  army.  The  function  of  the 
instructors,  therefore,  is  not  to  take  the 
place  of  the  regimental  officer,  but  to  help 
the  latter  in  his  work  and  give  him  the 
benefit  of  his  experience.  Their  influence 
is  particularly  felt  in  the  schools  where  the 
training  of  the  recruits  is  the  main  object, 
not  in  the  regimental  units  to  which  the 
recruits  are  posted  after  their  preliminary 
training  is  completed. 

"  If  we  admit  that  the  instructors  are  in- 
dispensable in  their  capacity  of  teachers 
it  does  not  at  all  follow  that  they  are  suited 
for  high  command  simply  in  ^^rtue  of  their 
experience. 

"  There  will  always  be  plenty  of  good 
regimental  officers,  frequently  men  with 
considerable  tactical  ability,  in  a  national 
militia.  The  great  thing  is  to  pick  out  the 
good  men.  In  order  to  have  officers 
who  reach  a  certain  standard  of  excellence 
it   is   absolutely   indispensable   that   the 


370 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


militia  should  form  a  genuine  army, 
bound  together  by  the  traditions  of  its  past, 
the  hopes  for  its  future,  and  above  all, 
confidence  in  itself.  If  the  work  of  the 
ofl&cer  is  made  too  easy  for  him,  if  he  is 
held  in  leading  strings  all  his  hfe,  the 
result  will  be  that  he  will  lose  his  power 
of  initiative,  and  that  the  army  instead 
of  being  improved  vdll  become  demoral- 
ised." 

It  is  perhaps  quite  outside  the  scope  of 
this  article  to  touch  on  the  matter  of  mili- 
tary training  except  in  so  far  as  it  affects 
the  health  and  general  tone  of  the  people. 
But  while  we  are  on  this  subject,  and  taking 
a  few  leaves  out  of  the  Swiss  book,  it  might 
be  well  to  consider  the  old  adage,  "  In  time 
of  peace  prepare  for  war."  We  will  only 
apply  it  thus  far.  Taken  as  mere  hypoth- 
esis, if  the  class  and  plan  of  our  training 
should  be  so  inferior  as  to  be  of  Httle  use 
for  practical  purposes,  then  it  might  be 
well  to  consider  the  manner  in  which  the 
Swiss  carry  on  their  training  in  the  light  of 
an  existing  example.  In  S^\itzerland  the 
object  of  their  training  seems  to  be  to  test 
the  practicability  of  each  part  of  their 
system  by  field  tests  on  an  actual  war 
scale.  We  in  Canada  have  local  mobilisa- 
tions, our  troops  being  delivered  by  train 
or  boat,  and  then,  in  comparison  to  the 
Swiss  work,  for  the  most  part  perform  the 
set  work  of  barrack-square  manoeu\Tes 
on  commons.  As  a  description  of  the 
Swiss  system  I  shall  quote  Col.  Camille 
F'avre  once  more.  In  his  article  before 
alluded  to,  he  writes  under  "MancemTes" 
as  follows : 

"The  work  of  the  regimental  units  lasts 
eighteen  days  every  other  year  combined 
with  manoeu\Tes  more  or  less  extended. 
I'>ery  second  occasion  on  which  the 
infantry  and  also  the  special  services 
are  called  out,  i.e.,  every  fourth  year, 
the  time  is  devoted  principally  to  the 
detail  of  company  and  battalion  train- 
ing in  which,  as  we  have  seen,  is  in- 
cluded musketr}-.  This  training  is  usu- 
ally carried  out  under  the  direction  of 
the  commanding  ofl&cer  of  the  regiment, 
who  is  charged  \^-ith  the  dra^\-ing  up  of  a 
programme  of  work,  concluding  with  regi- 
mental manoeu\Tes  of  a  small  scale,  some 
of  our  speciahsed  ser^^ces  sometimes 
taking  part   in    them.     At   the  alternate 


trainings  the  work  takes  the  form  of  Grand 
manoemTes;  the  time  available  for  detail- 
ed instruction  is  greatly  reduced,  and 
musketry  is  not  attempted.  The  latter 
part  of  the  course  is  divided  thus:  two  of 
brigade  manceu\Tes,  three  of  divisional 
manoeu\Tes,  and  two  of  army-corps  man- 
oemTes. The  whole  is  brought  to  an  end 
with  a  re\new  of  the  army-corps.  The 
manoeu\Tes,.and  especially  the  final  re\'iew, 
are  a  source  of  very  great  interest  to  the 
people,  the  visitors  who  come  to  look  at, 
and  who  sometimes  seriously  hamper, 
the  troops  forming  a  small  army  in  them  - 
selves.  All  the  carriages  and  equipment 
required  for  active  service  are  brought  out 
on  these  occasions,  and  the  troops  are 
detailed  by  the  mihtary  authorities  pre- 
cisely as  they  would  be  in  war.  This  has 
the  advantage  of  ensuring  that  the  gear  is 
kept  constantly  in  a  ser\iceable  condition. 
In  addition  to  this,  the  emplojTnent  during 
the  manoeuvres  of  the  full  equipment, 
complete  as  regards  quality  and  quantity, 
is  of  the  greatest  value  from  an  instruc- 
tional point  of  view. 

"The  manoeuvres  are  a  very  fair  sub- 
stitute for  partial  mobihsation,  and  the 
railways  play  an  even  more  important  part, 
for  they  take  not  only  troops,  but  civilians 
as  well. 

"An  attempt  is  made  to  approximate 
the  conditions  as  closely  as  possible  to 
those  of  active  service.  At  the  beginning 
of  the  campaign,  therefore,  the  two  sides 
are  each  mutually  ignorant  of  each  other's 
disposition,  and  as  a  rule  nobody  knows 
where  he  is  going  to  spend  the  night.  The 
only  information  they  have  is  what  is  sup- 
plied to  them  by  the  Director  at  the  last 
moment.  This  state  of  things  naturally 
causes  some  hardship  to  the  men.  It 
often  happens  that  troops  are  on  the  march 
from  early  morning  until  late  in  the  even- 
ing, or  even  till  night  before  they  reach 
their  billets,  but  this  has  not  been  observed 
to  have  results  at  all  prejudicial  to  their 
health.  I  need  not  say  that  the  man- 
oeu\Tes  take  place  over  a  wide  stretch  of 
country,  and  not  on  familiar  ground. 

"The  regulations  for  the  conduct  of  the 
manoeuvres  have  been  simplified,  and 
even'thing  which  experience  has  shown 
to  be  imnecessar}'  has  been  abandoned. 
Thus,  manual  exercises  and  battalion  drill 


expeiuencp: 


371 


ha\e  been  reduced  to  a  minimum.  At  one 
time  it  seemed  to  certain  of  the  officers 
that  the  process  of  simplification  was  being 
carried  too  far;  but  it  has  been  shown  that 
in  the  long  run  the  discipline  of  the  troops 
has  not  suffered.  The  manoeuvres  are, 
of  course,  the  best  possible  training  for 
officers,  and  particularly  for  the  staff. 
Wifhoui  them  our  army  would  practically 
cease  to  be  an  army.  Therefore,  the 
tendency  to  give  them  a  continually  wider 
scope,  even  if  this  entails  a  sacrifice  of 
more  minute  instruction.  Moreover,  the 
army-corps  system  leads  directly  to  de- 
centralisation, which  undoubtedly  helps  to 
develop  to  a  constantly  increasing  extent 
the  individual  capacity  and  initiative  of 
the  regimental  commanders." 

Finally  it  appeals  to  common  sense  that 
the  principle  of  a  standing  army  is  totally 
opposed  to  the  idea  of  progress  and  indus- 
try in  a  new  and  growing  country.  Where 
it  is  necessary  to  keep  such  an  expensive 
burden  the  only  justification  is  when  it  is 
(in  the  words  of  the  Secretary  of  State  for 


War)  "required  for  over-seas-purposes." 
When  it  is  so  required,  as  in  the  case  of 
Great  Britain,  then  and  then  alone  is  the 
enormous  expense  to  which  it  puts  the 
country  justified.  With  us  here  in  Can- 
ada it  might  be  held  that  it  would  in- 
deed be  better  if  the  money  were  sunk 
in  the  ocean  for,  on  the  one  hand,  the 
false  sense  of  security,  from  the  large 
expenditure  it  involves,  would  not  be 
given  to  the  people  at  large,  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  there  would  not  be  the 
example  of  enforced  idleness  which  is  the 
inevitable  result  of  barrack-life  existence. 
Therefore  it  would  seem  altogether  in 
the  best  interest  of  the  safety  of  our  coun- 
try, and  the  physical  and  moral  develop- 
ment of  our  countrymen,  that  we  should 
"harkback"  to  the  principles  laid  down 
by  our  forefathers,  and  adopt  some  form  of 
patriotic  military  service  in  Canada;  and 
especially  when  we  could  have  under  it  a 
truly  strong  and  effective  national  army 
for  less  money  than  our  skeleton  substi- 
tute is  costing  us  to-day. 


Experience 


BY   MABEL   BURKHOLDER 


IF  I  could  tell  you  how  I  drank  that  cup 

You  raise  so  madly  to  your  lips  again, 
And  how  the  beaded  liquor  poisoned  me. 
Convulsing  all  my  veins  in  mortal  pain; 
And,  if  you'd  learn  from  hps  that  once  were  stung, 
You'd  save  a  bitter  taste  upon  your  tongue. 
If  I  could  write  in  words  of  flame,  the  truths 
The  hoar\-  years  have  taught  me  as  they  roll. 
How  much  of  pain  you'd  miss  by  marking  mine! 
What  profit  on  your  part  to  read  the  scroU! 
But,  since  you  deem  me  Httle  consequence, 
Go,  learn  in  that  hard  school,  Experience. 


The  Governor-Generalship 


By  W.  D.  LIGHTHALL,  K.C 


An  outspoken  criticism  of  the  Governor-General's  function 
in  Canada,  and  a  plea  for  a  ■  radical  change 


MONG  the  manifold  adjust- 
ments, national  and  Imperial, 
which  the  development  of 
both  Canada  and  the  Empire 
force  upon  us,  it  is  obvious 
that  a  time  will  arrive  when  we  shall  have 
outgrown  the  Governor-Generalship  in 
its  present  form — the  method  of  bringing 
over  an  incumbent  from  Great  Britain. 
In  a  simple  Cro\\Ti  colony,  the  Governor 
must  necessarily  be  sent  from  Home.  In 
a  small  possession  \\'ith  representative 
government,  he  is  still  necessary,  although 
with  reduced  powers.  But  when  tlae 
colony  develops  into  a  nation  in  the  sense 
in  which  we  apply  it  to  the  Canadian 
people,  the  head  should  be  an  integral 
part  and  outgrowth  if  the  office  is  to  prop- 
erly express  and  fulfil  the  national  life. 
It  is  the  object  of  the  present  lines  to  con- 
sider the  cjuestion  whether  the  time  for  a 
change  has  not  arrived  already.  The 
period  for  its  discussion  at  least  seems 
ripe. 

Let  me  not  be  assumed  as  attacking  the 
office,  and  least  of  all  the  genial  statesman 
who  now  graces  it.  The  fact  of  its  being 
so  satisfactorily  filled  for  the  current  term 
should  render  the  discussion  more  free  from 
any  suspicion  of  personaUties  or  malice, 
and  should  make  it  possible  to  examine 
it  in  the  light  of  only  the  pubHc  good. 

The  first  aspect  of  the  office  is  that  of 
the  link  with  Britain.  If  the  connection 
of  the  Canadian  with  the  British  people 
and  the  rest  of  the  Empire  were  to  suft'er, 
it  would  indeed  be  a  calamity;  but  surely 
the  coming  of  an  English  Governor- 
General  is  greatly  overestimated  if  it  be 
seriously  regarded  as  the  real  bond,  or 
even  necessary  or  very  useful  to  that  bond. 
The  real  bond  must  be  found  in  the  mutual 
jjatriotism  of  the  Imperial  peoples.  In 
so  far  as  he  is  a  personal  link,  the  same 
l)urpose  would  be  better  met  by  an  Im- 

372 


perial  representative,  somewhat  of  the 
nature  of  a  High  Commissioner,  appointed 
expressly  to  serve  the  interests  of  union. 
Such  a  representative,  sent  here  from 
the  Homeland,  as  at  present,  \\ould  have 
a  freer  and  more  natural  position,  and, 
from  the  very  nature  of  his  office,  an  im- 
mense influence,  at  least  as  large  as,  and 
probably  much  larger  than,  the  real  in- 
fluence of  the  Governor- General  of  the 
present  time.  He  could  speak  for  the 
outer  connection  much  more  freely,  would 
not  be  checked  by  the  limitations  of  a 
nominal  headship  of  the  nation  itself,  and 
could  do  a  number  of  things  for  which  the 
Vice-regal  officer  would  be  called  to 
account. 

For  the  Governor-General  is  in  a  false 
position.  He  must  pose  as  the  ex'ponent 
of  national  feelings  and  interests  of  which 
he  can  only  have  a  superficial  acquaint- 
ance, and  at  first  not  even  any  acquaint- 
ance. He  comes  knowing  little  of  Canada, 
except  in  the  sense  of  a  stranger;  he 
possesses  none  of  that  lifelong  experience 
of  our  men  and  movements  which  every 
inteUigent  native  has  stored  up;  he 
makes  no  real  connection  with  the  in- 
tellectual, moral  and  art  movements  of 
the  country;  when  he  ventures  to  dehver 
speeches  about  "our  national  future"  or 
"our  national  ship"  he  knows  as  well  as 
we  that  the  words  have  a  hollow  sound; 
he  has  sometimes  been  in  the  hands  of 
subordinates  of  the  t\^e  of  Major  Maude, 
who  have  made  his  intended  courtesies 
mildly  ridiculous;  but  far  graver  is  the 
fact  that  he  is  prevented  by  the  delicacy 
of  his  situation  from  dealing  boldly  with 
many  subjects  with  which  a  surer  hand 
might  grapple  beneficially  to  our  well- 
being.  He  is  restricted  in  fact  to  a  few 
ornamental  functions;  yet,  even  these  it 
is  not  always  possible  for  him  to  perform 
without  mistakes,  although  his  good-will 


THE   GOVERNOR-frENERALSHIP 


373 


be  great  and  the  responsive  good-will 
great  also.  The  achievements  of  a 
Dorchester,  a  Durham,  an  Elgin,  or  even 
a  Dufiferin,  are  no  longer  possible  because 
the  conditions  are  outgrown.  Contrast 
the  round  of  balls,  addresses,  horse-shows 
and  bazaars,  brightened  by  an  occasional 
Imperialistic  speech — the  true  purpose 
with  the  profound  influence  and  striking 
roles  of  the  successive  Presidents  of  the 
United  States — Lincoln,  whose  words 
and  deeds  have  struck  home  to  the  hearts 
and  consciences  of  many  millions  of 
Americans;  Garfield,  a  noble  national 
type  of  self-made  man;  Grant,  the 
master  of  iron  determination;  McKinley, 
undaunted  and  forgiving  in  death;  Roose- 
velt, rough-riding  with  manly  courage  and 
masterly  insight  against  the  giant  wTongs 
and  evils  of  his  people.  These  contrasted 
records  of  the  Governors-General  and 
the  Presidents,  are  the  results  of  the  two 
differing  systems,  of  imported  leadership 
and  native  leadership.  It  is  not  that  the 
Governors- General  have  not  been  for  the 
most  part  men  of  high  principles  and 
sufficient  abihty,  but  their  limitations  are 
against  them.  They  cannot  reach  down 
into  the  national  heart  for  an  obvious 
reason :  the  union  of  their  office  of  repre- 
sentative of  the  Imperial  organisation  with 
that  of  head  of  the  Canadian  national 
organisation  is  unnatural. 

There  are  other  objections  of  a  very 
solid   nature    to    continuing   the    present 
system.     A  high  opinion  of  us  by  foreign 
peoples  is  of  great  value  to  us.     Yet  it  is 
well  known  that  the  importation  (pardon 
the  term)  of  our  Governors-General  gives 
rise  to  a  most  false  and  injurious  impres- 
sion of  our  status  and  life  even  among 
people  so  well  informed  and  so  near  us  as 
the    Americans.     The    notion    is    wide- 
spread that  we  are  "ruled"  by  England 
through  the  Govern  or- General;    that  we 
have  no  autonomous  status  of  our  own. 
Among  even  the  most  enlightened  element 
1  the  situation  is  regarded  as  a  mark  of  in- 
i  feriority,  and  to  so  regard  it  is  perhaps 
more  natural  than  we  may  be  prepared  to 
•  admit,  knowing  as  we  do  the  kindly  nature 
of  the  relationship.     Another  grave  ob- 
jjection  is  the  importation  of  certain  ideals 
jwhich  represent  old-world  evils,  inimical 
Ito  the  welfare  of  our  people.     The  tenants 


of  the  position  are  invariably  members  of 
the  House  of  Lords  of  Great  Britain. 
They  embody  a  system  of  publicly  recog- 
nised privileges  and  grades  of  social  prece- 
dence; implying  the  importation  also  of  a 
system  of  social  inferiority,  which  is  con- 
trary to  our  institutions  and  bad  for  our 
people.  Our  bitterest  internal  'struggles 
have  been  concerned  with  the  abolition  ot 
such  systems,  and  the  hope  of  a  large  pro- 
portion of  the  people  of  the  Old  Land  is  to 
get  rid  of  them.  If  these  ideas  could  have 
no  other  effect  in  Canada  than  a  little 
amusing  snobbery  they  would  scarcely 
deserve  remark;  but  it  is  evident  from 
many  social  signs  that  a  mimic  system, 
based  upon  wealth,  is  actually  making 
headway  through  the  Dominion,  of  which 
Rideau  Hall  is  the  centre,  and  of  which 
the  effect  would  be  to  gradually  erect,  all 
through  the  land,  a  reign  of  class  distinc- 
tions, of  privileges  and  monopolies,  ulti- 
mately becoming  part  of  our  Govern- 
ment, as  well  as  of  our  society.  In  Canada 
this  can  only  mean  a  plutocracy;  and  such 
a  privileged  plutocracy,  possessing  not 
even  the  correctives  of  a  strain  of  ancient 
chivalry  and  history,  would  ine\'itably 
bring  upon  us  the  evils  of  revolution.  The 
growth  of  such  a  thing  is  no  dream,  but  is 
the  inevitable  goal  of  the  American  pro- 
cess of  trusts  which  is  taking  root  here. 
It  needs  a  corrective  at  Rideau  Hall  in 
place  of  encouragement  and  a  model. 
Another  objection  is  the  introduction  of 
the  example  of  certain  iMiglish  customs, 
such  as  the  winedrinking  and  horse- 
racing  influence,  which  we  are  better 
without.  Another  lies  in  the  fact  that 
the  Vice-regal  household  is,  still  more 
than  the  Governors,  out  of  real  touch 
with  the  country  and  its  interests.  There 
is  also  the  absence  among  our  young  men 
of  one  of  the  largest  possible  opportunities 
for  a  noble  career,  that  of  filling  worthily 
the  highest  position  in  the  State,  an  am- 
bition which  has  had  a  wonderful  effect 
on  American  youth. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  proposal  of  a 
Canadian  for  the  position  of  Governor- 
General  raises  several  pertinent  questions. 
Would  he  be  impartial?  I  think  as 
much  so  as  the  Lieutenant-Governors. 
Why  cannot  the  Prime  JSIinister  serve  the 
same  objects?     Because  he  is  too  much 


374 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


occupied  and  restrained  by  cares  of  an- 
other kind.  Alexander  ^lackenzie,  how- 
ever, used  to  serve  some  of  the  purposes  of 
a  national  mentor.  He  would  have  made 
a  splendid  Governor-General.  So  would 
have  D'Arcy  McGee. 

How  should  the  Canadian  Governor- 
General  be  appointed?  The  easiest 
hiethod  would  be  by  simple  appointment 
or  nomination  by  the  Cabinet.  But  he 
should  be  elected;  and  even  if  chosen  by 
a  victorious  party  after  election,  the  public 
would  exact  some  previous  assurance  from 
each  party  on  so  important  a  subject, 
which  would  be  the  equivalent  of  direct 
election.  Election  by  the  whole  people 
to  such  an  office  would  certainly  bring 
out  a  type  of  man  the  like  of  whom  we 
have    rarely   seen    in    public   life.     Each 


party  would  be  forced  to  discover  a  candi- 
date who  could  stand  the  v/hitest  light,  and 
the  process  would  be  a  good  thing  for  all. 
Would  not  his  party  alliance  restrict  and 
injure  him?  Obviously  no  more  than 
the  United  States  President's.  Would  his 
career  not  resemble  the  quiet,  colourless 
careers  of  the  lieutenant- Governors? 
No,  for  popular  election  and  the  greatness 
of  his  office  would  both  bring  out  a  more 
vigorous  type  of  man  and  furnish  a  power- 
ful stimulus  to  action.  The  world  to- 
day holds  no  more  interesting  opportimity 
than  would  be  that  of  a  Canadian-bom 
Governor- General,  possessing  the  living 
headship  of  a  vast  land  and  vigorous 
people,  and  while  loyally  true  to  the  Em- 
pire and  its  chief,  he  would  take  a  rightful 
place  among  the  sovereigns  of  the  world. 


Ethics  of  the  Farm 


"p\OLLARS  do  not  pass  easily  and  loosely  amongst  those  who  till  the  soil,  for  they 
represent  too  great  an  amount  of  genuine  labour.  So  I  pay  as  little  as  possible  for 
clothing,  for  groceries,  or  for  seed  grain.  Otherwise,  the  mortgagees  would  come 
around  to  inspect.  I  find  it  necessar}^  to  "strike  a  hard  bargain."  I  calculate  this 
way:  If  a  clothier  asks  me  twelve  dollars  for  a  suit  of  clothes,  and  I  can  buy  the  same 
suit, or  one  just  as  good,  for  ten  dollars  by  creating  rivalry  a  few  doors  down  the  street, 
I  make  two  dollars.  The  whole  transaction  need  not  detain  me  more  than  fifteen 
or  twenty  minutes.  Could  I  make  two  dollars  as  easily  following  the  plow  or  hauling 
cordwood  ? 

After  all,  farm-life  is  the  great  economical  drill.  Of  course,  we  know  that 
oftentimes  we  are  regarded  as  ''skinflints,"  but  our  only  apology  is — to  use  4  metro- 
politan expression — we  need  the  money. 

farmer  John 


The  Habitant's  Valentine 


Bv  GRACE  WINNIFRED  BO  RIGHT 


How  the  heart  in  distress  crys  hack  to  the  old  love  and  present  dis- 
appointment is  modified  by  the  hope  of  future  atonement 


E  had  been  sitting  in  silence — ■ 
he,  with  his  chair  tipped  back 
against  the  wall,  half  asleep, 
I  thought,  pufiing  at  his  old 
pipe;  I,  lounging  lazily  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  stove,  think- 
ing of  the  sender  of  a  certain  missive 
1  had  received  that  morning.  Then, 
]^rompted  by  the  lightness  the  dainty 
bit  of  paper  created  in  the  heart  against 
which  it  lay,  I  shot  a  sudden  C[uestion 
at  the  old  man: 

"Ever  receive  a  valentine,  'Poleon?" 

A  picture  of  his  extraordinarily  tyran- 
nical and  sour-visaged  wife  down  in  the 
village  flashed  into  my  mind  as  I  spoke, 
and  I  laughed  softly  at  the  absurdity  of 
my  question. 

"What's  dat  you  call  a  valentine?" 
he  inquired.  His  voice  sounded  thought- 
ful rather  than  sleep}-. 

"It  is  something  your  sweetheart 
sends  you  on  the  fourteenth  of  February 
to  tell  that  she  loves  you." 

'Poleon  drew  up  closer  to  the  fire, 
leaned  forward  with  elbows  on  knees, 
ctnd  gazed  at  the  red  glow,  with  eyes 
that  saw  neither  it  nor  me. 

"Yas,  yas,  I  git  som't'ing  lak  dat 
once,  me.  Lena,  she  geeve  it  to  me," 
lie  murmured.  Then  he  went  on  in  the 
same  soft  tone: 

"I  work  on  beeg  lumber  camp  over 
on  de  Wes'  Mounting,  togeder  wid  lot 
of  oder  fine,  young  fello — bons  cam- 
arades — all  ole  men  now,  too,  an'  some 
are  dead  also.  From  Monday  momin' 
till  Sat'day  night  we  work  hard  lak  one 
nigger.  It  was  fun  for  work  in  dem 
day,  de  sun  he  shine  so  bri'te,  de  bird  he 
sing  so  sweet  an'  we  so  young  an'  strong! 
But  cam'  Sunday  we  put  on  de  bes' 
clo'es  an'  go  to  de  church  on  de  village 
for  to  walk  home  wid  de  girl,  an'  mak' 
de  spark  wid  dem.     Bat  Viens  he  have 

375 


ten  girl.  Dey  all  very  nice  girl,  but  I 
don'  get  struck  for  mak'  any  of  dem  ma 
femme  till  Lena  she  cam'  home  from  de 
plac'  on  de  Stats  w'ere  she  work  for  two, 
t'ree  year.  De  very  firs'  tam  I  see  her 
I  love  her.  I  t'ink  for  sure  de  bon  Dieu 
He  mus'  have  mak'  it  so. 

"At  firs'  she  don't  care  for  me  any 
more  dan  for  de  res'  of  de  garfon,  which 
was  not  'tall.  But  af'er  a  w'ile,  w'en 
she  see  how  much  I  love  her,  she  get 
kin'er,  an'  at  las'  one  day  on  de  Spring 
she  promise  me  dat  bimeby  we  mak' 
de  marrie.  Oh,  dat's  de  mos'  bes'  tam 
of  all  ma  life!  In  de  woods  no  oder  man 
can't  keep  up  wid  me  'tall,  I  feel  so  good. 
De  fello  dey  all  say  dat  dey  each  one 
goin'  for  get  him  a  girl  if  it  mak'  him 
work  lak  me.  An'  Lena  she's  so  kin' — 
jus'  lak  some  leetle  bird  wid  her  mate. 
I  don'  t'ink,  me,  dat  w'en  we  get  togeder 
in  de  nex'  worl'  we  can  be  any  more 
happy  dan  we  was  den.  But — de  S})ring 
tam  don'  las'  forever — dough  why  not 
I  don'  know,  me." 

'Poleon  sighed  deep  and  drew  long  at 
his  pipe  before  continuing: 

"One  day  two  surveyor  dey  cam'  an' 
offer  me  five  dollar  for  show  dem  de  way 
over  de  mounting.  I  vera  glad  for  mak' 
dat  monie,  so  de  nex'  momin'  we  start. 
We  don'  have  no  troub'  till  we  get  up 
in  de  gully.  Den  one  beeg  rock  she 
start  for  come  down  right  on  de  top  of 
dem  surveyor.  I  do  mon  possible  for  stop 
her  an'  she  brak  ma  leg  in  two,  t'ree  place. 
Dey  take  me  to  a  cabane  dat's  not  a  long 
way  off,  an'  put  me  to  bed.  Den  de  pain 
she  cam'  so  great  dat  I  loose  ma  head 
an'  don'  know  not'ing  for  long,  long  tam. 
De  ole  bonhomme  who  leeve  dere  he  tak' 
care  of  me  an'  bimeby  I  begin  for  get 
better,  but  I  don'  dare  move  me  for  fear 
ma  leg  she  come  to  pieces  again.  So  I 
lie  dere  lak  one  log  in  de  forest,  an'  all 


376 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


de  tarn  I  t'ink  of  ma  belle  Lena.  \\''en 
I  sleep  I  dream  she's  sitting  beside  me; 
w'en  I  wak'  I  keep  t'inkin'  I  hear  her 
comin'.  I  know  vera  well,  me,  dat  de 
way  over  de  mounting  is  too  long  an' 
rough  for  her  to  come  to  her  'Poleon,  but 
jus'  de  sam'  I  keep  hs'ning,  Hs'ning  for 
her  footstep." 

Even  as  he  spoke,  the  old  man  seemed 
to  pause  as  if  expecting  stiU  to  hear  her 
coming. 

"At  las',  jus'  as  I'm  beginnin'  for  walk 
aroim',"  he  continued  presently,  "Bat 
Viens  he  cam'  for  see  me.  Dat  mak' 
me  vera  glad,  an'  as  soon  as  we  shake  on 
de  han'  I  say  quick: 

"'Mamselle  Lena,  how  goes  she?' 

"Bat  he  look  vera  queer,  an'  for  a 
moment  he  don'  spik.  Den  he  say: 
"Poleon,  mon  garcon,  dere  is  som't'ing 
I  mus'  tole  you.  Lena  don'  love  you  no 
more,  'Poleon,  she's  gone  clean  crazee 
over  one  fello  she  used  to  know  on  de 
Stats,  who  cam'  on  de  village  de  sam' 
day  dat  you  lef.  He  vera  han 'some 
fello,  more  swell  dan  de  poor  habitant, 
but  I  don'  lak  him  one  leetle  bit,  meself. 
I  tole  her:  'Lena,  you  fool,  can't  you  see 
dat  fello's  no  good?  Plentee  nice  looks 
an'  fine  clo'es  on  de  outside,  but  on  de 
inside  he's  bad,  bad,  manvais!  Bimeby, 
af'er  you  get  marrie,  he'll  get  tired  of 
you  an'  go  off  an'  leeve  you  for  starve. 
How  you  know,'  I  ax  her,  'dat  he  ain't 
got  two,  free  wife  already?  You  can't 
tell  not'ing  by  what  he  say.  You'll  be 
sorry  all  your  Hfe  if  you  geeve  de  mitten 
to  de  vrai  Canadien  who  love  you,  for 
dis  Yankee  man.  But  she  won'  Hs'en 
to  de  ole  man,  an'  she's  of  age,  so  I  can't 
stop  her.  I'm  vera,  vera  sorr}-  for  you, 
mon  garcon,  but  ma  ole  heart  she's  jus' 
brakin'  for  ma  foolesh  leetle  girl.'" 

A  hard  Hght  shot  from  the  old  man's 
eye  as  he  hastened  on: 

"I  don'  wan'  for  t'ink  of  de  tarn  dat 
cam'  to  me  den.  Le  bon  Dieu,  He  know 
dat  'Poleon 's  not  'Poleon  'tall,  but  jus' 
one  beeg,  poor  crazee  man,  an'  He'll  not 
lay  up  against  him  de  t'ing  dat  he  do 
den.  Yas,  yas,  jus'  one  beeg,  poor 
crazee  man!  An'  one  day  I  mak  de 
marrie  wid  Marie  Bedard. 

"Dat  nite,  it  was  de  fourteent'  Fevrier, 
mes  camarades  dey  geeve  a  gran'  partie 


for  to  celebrate  de  weddin'.  Sudden - 
ment,  w'ile  I'm  mak'  de  dance  an'  shout 
an'  lafe  wid  Marie,  de  garcon  he  come  in 
an'  geeve  me  a  letter.  'She's  marked 
"Rush,"  'Poleon,  so  I  brung  him  along,' 
he  say. 

"She's  from  Lena,  an'  I  tear  him  open 
quick.  "Poleon,  I'm  dying — all  alone 
— come  to  me.'  I  read  dat;  I  hear  de 
Boston  express  w'istle,  an'  I  joump  tru 
de  door  an'  run  lak  de  diable  for  catch 
dat  train.  Marie,  she  yell  af'er  me,  but 
I  can't  stop  for  not'ing.  I  spring  on  de 
car  jus'  as  he  start  for  leeve  de  station. 
Le  ban  Dieu,  He's  not  de  only  one  dat 
t'ink  for  sure  'Poleon's  crazee  dat  nite. 
At  las'  I  cam'  to  where  she  lay,  ma 
cherie!  ma  cherief  all  w'ite  lak  a  leetle 
lam'.  An'  she  reach  out  her  arm  for 
me  an'  call  "Poleon!"' 

"Cherie!  Cherie!"  The  old  man  half 
stretched  out  his  arms  and  his  cry  of 
heart -longing  rang  through  the  room. 
Then  he  sank  back,  and  went  on  softly: 

"She  say:  'I've  spoil  nm  o\\'n  hfe. 
but  for  dat  I  don'  care  now,  me.  I 
t'ink  only  of  you,  'Poleon.  Ever  since 
I'm  tak'  sick  an'  Malcolm  he  go  'way, 
I've  been  saying  de  prayer  nite  an'  day 
dat  de  good  God  he  sen'  me  some  way 
to  geeve  back  to  you  de  happiness  dat 
I  tak'  away.  A  leetle  w'ile  af'er  she 
die.  Her  face  so  sweet — jus'  lak  some 
ange'  in  Heaven. 

"Sixty-t'ree  year  come  to-night  she 
leeve  me.  Sixty-t'ree  year  I've  been  all 
alone,  'cept  for  Marie.  But  I've  done 
jus'  as  she  tole  me — never  mak  de  quarrel 
or  go  on  spree,  though  Marie,  she's  been 
terrible  hard,  an'  have  gone  on  de  Church 
too.  'An  now  I'm  eighty-nine  year  ole,  me ; 
an'  I  guess  I  no'  got  much  longer  for 
wait  till  de  tam  w'en  I'll  have  ma  cherie 


Last  week  I  happened  to  be  in  'Pol- 
eon's  village,  so  I  called  to  see  him.  His 
old  wife,  Marie,  came  to  the  door,  more 
sour-visaged  than  ever. 

"'Poleon's  dead,"  she  announced, 
calmly.  "Died  las'  year  jus'  'bout  dis 
tam.  He  say  if  ever  I  see  you  to  tell 
you  he  got  his  las'  and  bes'  valentine. 
i  don'  know  what  he  mean.  He  vera 
crazee  on  de  head  clos'  to  de  las'." 


THE  INCUBATOR  IX  WHICH  EXPERIMENTAL  BLOOD  AXD  BACTERIA  MIXTURES  ARE 

KEPT  AT  BLOOD  HEAT 


Opsonins  in  Canada 

By  AUGUSTUS  BRIDLE 


A  readable  account  of  the  practice  in  Canada  of  new  methods 
to  conquer  man's  arch  enemy,  the  disease  germ 


O  young  country  anywhere 
has  produced  a  more  notable 
aggregation  of  professional 
men  with  international  repu- 
tations than  Canada.  We 
have  turned  out  two  eminent  Osiers,  a 
David  ]\lills  and  an  Avlesworth,  a  Dr. 
!  )ouglas,  a  Charles  Eaton  and  a  Dr. 
Mackay;  a  Schurman  and  a  Parkin — and 
tliree  eminent  medical  men,  of  whom  this 
article  concerns  one. 

Three  Canadians  have  become  inter- 
nationally eminent  in  medicine.  Dr. 
'  >5ler,  the  "grand  old  man"  of  medicine, 

7—377 


needs  no  eulogy  here.  He  has  just  re- 
turned to  Oxford  from  a  Canadian  visit. 
His  successor  at  Johns  Hopkins,  Dr. 
Barker,  the  middle-aged  man  of  medicine, 
is  all  but  as  conspicuous  in  .\merica  as 
Osier  is  in  England.  The  young  man  of 
medicine.  Dr.  G.  W.  Ross,  has  just  left 
Canada  to  take  charge  of  a  new  depart- 
ment in  bacteriolog}'  in  the  Rockefeller 
Institute,  New  York,  His  present  speci- 
alty is  the  subject  of  this  article. 

Dr.  Ross  promises  to  be  as  well  remem- 
bered in  the  histon,-  of  medicine  as  his 
father  in  the  history  of  Canadian  politics. 


378 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


The  second  son  of  the  ex-Premier  of 
Ontario,  he  graduated  from  the  Toronto 
Medical  School  in  1902  and  spent  two 
years  abroad  in  post-graduate  work.  At 
St.  Mary's  Hospital  in  London  he  was  the 
first  American  pupil  of  Sir  Almroth  E. 
Wright,  the  eminent  discoverer  of  "opso- 
nins"; the  man  whom  doctors  are  now- 
beginning  to  place  on  a  par  with  Lister 
and  Pasteur.  Dr.  Ross  introduced  op- 
sonins as  a  practical  laboratory  study  into 
the  Toronto  General  Hospital  last  Novem- 
ber. The  Toronto  General  was  the  first 
hospital  in  America  to  practically  exploit 
opsonins.  Therefore  it  seemed  that  a 
brief  look-in  at  this,  the  latest  large  thing 
out  in  medical  science,  might  be  of  more 
than  passing  interest  to  Canadians. 

What  are  opsonins  ?  You  will  not  find 
the  word  in  even  the  latest  dictionary. 
It  stands  for  a  treatment  that  cures  boils, 
carbuncles,  typhoid,  diphtheria,  tuber- 
culosis and  blood-poisoning — in  fact  all 
diseases  caused  by  microbes  By  the  dis- 
covery of  opsonins  people  afflicted  with 
any  of  these  things  stand  a  much  better 
chance  of  being  cured  than  ever  before  in 
the  history  of  medicine;  and  the  study  of 
opsonins  is,  therefore,  as  practical  as  ventil- 
ation   or    the    reduction    of    taxes.     The 


CENTRIFUG.^USER    SEF.AR.A.TIi\G    BLOOD    CORFU 
.\T   300    REVOLUTIOXS    PER    MIX 


treatment  is  just  about  two  years  old  in 
England,  and  is  just  getting  a  practical 
introduction  into  America ;  therefore  it  is 
a  novelty. 

Having  been  shown  over  part  of  the 
General  Hospital  a  few  weeks  ago  by  Dr. 
J.  N.  E.  Brown,  the  Superintendent,  I 
was  suddenly  asked,  "Have  you  heard 
anything  of  the  new  opsonic  treatment?" 
Of  course  I  had  not. 

"Well,  come  into  the  laboratory." 
Dr.  Brown  gave  me  a  cursory  initiation. 
"Come  back  to-morrow,"  he  said.  "Dr. 
Caulfield  will  explain  it  to  you  thoroughly. 
Dr.  Caulfield  is  the  house  surgeon  who 
was  left  by  Dr.  Ross  in  charge  of  the  new 
department,  and  has  since  been  invited  to 
London  to  assist  Sir  Almroth  E.  Wright. 

Opsonins  are  a  new  principle  in  vaccine. 
\'accine,  of  course,  is  fairly  well  under- 
stood; for  instance,  that  by  injecting  a 
fluid  prepared  from  a  cow  infected  with  a 
mild  attack  of  smallpox,  you  might  escape 
smallpox;  by  another  sort  of  injection — 
thanks  to  Sir  Almroth  E.  Wright — that 
you  might  be  made  immune  to  typhoid; 
and  so  on.  But  vaccine  has  always  been 
ptipularly  regarded  as  the  ounce  of  pre- 
vention; Sir  Almroth  E.  Wright  has  done 
a  great  deal  to  make  it  the  pound  of  cure. 
But  how  does  vac- 
cinal! o  n  either  pre- 
vent a  man  from  tak- 
ing or  cure  him  of  a 
disease?  A  paradox — 
by  the  injection  of  a 
tluid  which  gives  him 
in  a  mild  form  the 
disease  for  which  he 
is  being  treated.  The 
fluid  contains  the 
microbes  of  the 
disease  or  the  product 
of  such  microbes  — 
killed  by  heat  but  not 
altered  in  their  chem- 
i  c  a  1  composition ;  so 
that  the  sterilised 
microbes  or  their  pro- 
ducts injected  into  the 
s}-stem  at  once  set  the 
blood  the  task  of  get- 
ting rid  of  them,  while 

scLEs  AND  SERUM  ^^'""^  ^ead,  they  have 
uTE  no  power  to  multiply 


OrSONINS    IN    CANADA 


:J79 


and  dangerously  iiifccl. 
Given  the  task  of  earn- 
ing off  dead  microbes, 
the  blood  rises  to  the 
occasion  on  much  the 
same  principle  that  when 
a  man's  blood  "is  up"  he 
can  fight  a  man  twice  his 
size,  whereas  before  he 
gets  the  stimulus  he 
might  be  as  harmless  as 
a'baby.  Or  to  make  a 
closer  parallel,  a  man 
might  feel  like  writing 
poems  a})()ut  mosquitoes 
till  he  meets  a  few — then 
he  feels  like  killing  a 
thousand  with  one  hand. 
And  what  mosquitoes 
are  to  a  man's  irrita- 
bility, microbes  are  to 
the  blood;  they  swarm 
everywhere  continually 
out  for  plunder,  and 
always  liable  to  get  into 
trouble  because  of  the 
fighting  properties  in  the 
blood.  So  that  to  inocu- 
late a  man  with  dead 
germs  rouses  the  blood  to 
resistance  and  gives  it  the 
power  to  fight  the  live  mi- 
crobes when  they  come. 

Microbes  are  international  and  most 
diseases  due  to  microbes  are  to  be  found 
in  Canada  as  far  north  as  the  last  Hudson's 
Bay  Company  post,  and  in  Africa  as  far 
south  as  Capetown.  Civilisation  has 
spread  germ  diseases.  Consumption,  for 
instance,  was  once  unknown  in  the  Cana- 
dian Northwest;  now,  nearly  every  Indian 
has  consumption — a  germ  disease.  Small- 
po.x  was  once  a  novelty  in  the  Saskatche 
wan  Valley.  Five  years  ago  half  that 
valley  was  under  quarantine  for  "variol- 
oid," and  a  doctor  whom  I  met  at  Onion 
Lake  vaccinated  200  Crees  in  a  single  day. 

Germ  diseases  spread  rapidly;  the 
"laity"  are  beginning  to  ask  the  question. 
What  diseases  are  not  caused  by  germs  ? 
Even  appendicitis,  once  regarded  as  a 
simple  inflammatory  malady,  is  now  ex- 
plained by  a  germ;  so  with  t^'phoid, 
diphtheria,  consumption,  measles,  scarlet 
ever,    boils    and    carbuncles.      So    that 


counting  bacteria  in  white  corpuscles  to  get 
"opsonic  index" 


whereas  once  upon  a  time  the  man  with 
the  telescope  who  could  see  solar  systems 
in  a  pack  of  star  dust  was  the  subject  of 
awe,  now  the  man  with  the  microscope 
who  is  able  to  see  microbes  at  work  in 
the  spreading  of  disease  has  become  of 
greater  importance. 

The  laboratory  at  the  Toronto  General 
Hospital  was  full  of  microbes  or  bacteria. 
The  doctor  had  several  glass  jars,  each 
containing  miUions  of  pet  microbes. 
There  were  glass  tubes  full  of  them  in 
emulsions.  There  were  little  microscopic 
films  smeared  with  them.  The  white 
guinea-pig,  huddled  morbidly  in  his  cage 
under  the  table,  was  probably  alive  with 
them,  for  he  had  been  inoculated  with 
just  about  every  disease  that  microbes 
cause  and  was  still  able  to  sit  up.  That 
guinea-pig  probably  knows  more  about 
opsonins  than  I  do. 

For  brevitv's   sake  the   doctors   rather 


380 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


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1)IA(;ram  of  opsonic  cirve-    varying  as  a  result  of  inoculation 


flippantly  call  these  micro-organisms — 
"bugs."  I  had  always  been  under  the 
impression  that  "bug-house"  was  bad 
slang.  Opsonins  has  convinced  me  that 
ever>'  man  is  a  literal  "bug-house!" 

"Did  you  ever  see  bacteria?"  asked 
Dr.  Caulfield.  "Well,  take  a  squint 
through  this  microscope  at  that  film." 
The  film  was  smeared  with  blood.  I  did 
so,  and  at  first  the  thing  was  a  blur. 

"Do  you  see  to  the  left  of  the  field  a 
splash  of  pink  things  ?  " 

"Oh,  certainlv — ves;  it's  nearlv  all 
pink." 

"Well,  those  are  red  blood  corpuscles; 
you've  got  about  six  hundred  million  of 
those  in  every  cubic  centimetre  of  blood  in 
your  body." 

This  seemed  highly  interesting  as  a 
branch  of  higher  mathematics,  and  I  was 
just  about  to  compute  how  much  of  a 
multi-millionaire  I  might  be  altogether, 
when  he  said; 

"But,  never  mind  them.  Look  for  a 
large,  white,  rather  kidney-shaped  figure." 

"Yes,  I  see  that — pink  in  the  back- 
ground." 

"Well,  that's  a  white  corpuscle.  Now, 
you'll  see  in  that  white  corpuscle  several 
pale  blue  shapes." 

"Oh — they're  the  bugs,  are  they?" 

"No — not  yet,  they're  nuclei  from 
which  are  being  formed  new  corpuscles, 
and  the  pink  layer  in  the   background   is 


the  protoplasm  out  of  which  are  being 
developed  the  nuclei;  so  you  see  every 
corpuscle  is  a  little  factory  in  active  opera- 
tion, and  if  it  wasn't  we'd  soon  all  be 
dead  ones." 

' '  Ah  1     Now  I  see  them ! ' ' 

"Oh,  you've  got  them,  have  you? 
A\'hat  colour?" 

"Deep  blue — four  in  one  bunch  and 
two  over  here,  and  two  more  yonder — 
eight  bacteria  in  one  corpuscle.     Hm!" 

"Yes,  that's  easv.  Sometimes  we  find 
fifty." 

These  blue  bacteria  were  "staphy- 
lococci," such  as  may  be  found  in  boils 
and  carbuncles;  one  of  many  kinds  that 
may  be  rampaging  through  the  human 
body  by  myriads. 

Now  for  a  few  facts  about  the  blood. 
Blood  is  red  because  of  its  red  corpuscles. 
It  also  contains  white  corpuscles  which 
have  been  regarded  as  the  germ-killers. 
It  also  contains  serum  which  you  may 
notice  when  you  cut  your  finger  and  the 
blood  clots  as  it  cools.  The  serum  is  the 
part  that  clots. 

Now  all  vaccinists  before  Sir  Almroth 
E.  Wright  claimed  that  the  white  corpus- 
cles did  all  the  germ-killing;  that  every 
morning  you  got  up  feeling  fit  and  proper 
after  a  headache,  for  instance,  it  was  be- 
cause the  "leucocytes, "  as  they  are  called, 
had  been  busy  all  night  throtthng  and 
lugging  out  the  bacteria  that  were  general- 


OPSONINS    L\    CANADA 


381 


ing  poison  in  your  system  the  day  before. 
And  when  you  can  loolc  through  a  micro- 
scope and  see  twenty  or  thirty  dead  bacteria 
in  one  leucocyte  ready  to  be  dumped  into 
the  sewer,  it  looks  very  much  as  if  the 
cheerful  little  leucocytes  were  the  real 
policemen  on  the  job.  \\e\\,  Wright  had 
great  respect  for  these  leucocytes,  but  he 
had  spent  years  making  e.xperiments  on 
bacteria  and  vaccines  which  convinced 
him  that  the  leucocytes  without  the  serum 
would  be  beaten  in  any  average  scuffle 
with  bacteria.  He  discovered  to  his  own 
satisfaction  and  that  of  his  pupils  that  it's 
really  the  serum  which  catches  the  bacteria 
and  makes  them  ready  for  the  leucocytes 
which  are  dotted  here  and  there  among 
the  red  corpuscles  like  snowtlakcs  on  a  red 
roof.  How  he  demonstrated  this  is  no 
particular  business  of  ours;  the  property 
in  the  serum  which  enables  the  white  cor- 
puscles to  take  up  bacteria,  he  called  by 
the  name  "opsonins,"  which  comes  from 
the  Greek  word  "opsono"  and  means 
"I  prepare  a  feast  for."  That  is,  the 
serum  was  the  caterer,  the  bacteria  were 
the  meat,  and  the  white  corpuscles  were 
the  guests  for  whom  the  bacteria  were 
served  up. 

Microbes  breed  faster  than  mosquitoes. 
You  can't  escape  them  any  more  than  you 
can  avoid  hunger.  Most  of  them  are 
hungry.  They  have  no  particular  designs 
on  the  human  body;  all  they  want  is  a 
good,  comfortable  place  to  live  in.  The 
blood  is  such  a  place.  Here  microbes  are 
able  to  multiply,  and  if  left  unchecked 
would  soon  rush  by  thousands  of  millions 
all  through  the  body.  But  though  mi- 
crobes may  thrive  on  blood,  blood  does 
not  thrive  on  microbes.  The  first  thing  is 
to  get  them  out.  The  blood  protects 
itself  by  elaborating  a  protective  substance 
which  directly  attacks  the  microbes. 
The  bacteria  do  the  same  thing;  they 
elaborate  a  substance  that  attacks  the 
blood  corpuscles.  This  substance  is 
called  toxin,  which  is  a  general  name  for 
poisons  such  as  course  through  the  body 
in  typhoid,  diphtheria,  tuberculosis  and 
the  like.  The  progress  of  every  disease 
of  that  sort  is  a  pitched  battle.  The 
winning  of  this  battle  by  the  blood  depends 
on  the  serum  being  able  to  elaborate  pro- 


tective sufjstances  enough  to  overcome 
the  microbes. 

Now  in  many  cases  the  blood  has  this 
power  in  only  a  low  degree.  To  stimulate 
the  blood  certain  vaccines  have  been 
injected  during  the  progress  of  the 
disease.  These  vaccines  were  sometimes 
prepared  from  animals  previously  infected 
with  the  disease  to  be  cured.  But  here 
arose  a  difficulty,  which  was  the  real 
emergency  that  led  to  the  practical  ap- 
plication of  opsonins.  It  had  been  found 
that  in  its  battle  with  microbes  the  blood 
has  a  habit  of  passing  Uke  the  mercun,-  in 
a  thermometer  from  a  low-resisting  power 
to  a  high-resisting  power.  This  is  true  in 
both  man  and  animals.  A  horse,  for 
instance,  was  infected  with  the  diphtheria 
microbe  for  the  purpose  of  taking  from 
its  blood  a  fluid  to  help  in  the  cure  of 
diphtheria  in  a  human  body.  But  often 
the  vaccine  was  prepar  d  when  the  blood 
of  the  horse  had  swung  to  its  low-resisting 
power.  Consequently  the  vaccine  had 
not  the  property  of  stimulating  the  human 
blood,  but  quite  the  reverse;  hence  patients 
have  been  known  to  die  from  the  effects 
of  vaccine.  Again  vaccine  has  been  in- 
jected into  a  patient  when  his  o\A'n  blood 
was  at  its  low-resisting  power.  This  also 
had  the  effect  of  weakening  rather  than 
stimulating  and  only  made,  the  disease 
worse  instead  of  better. 

So  it  became  evddent  to  Sir  A.  E. 
Wright  that  some  more  scientific  method 
must  be  evolved.  By  his  repeated  ex- 
periments with  the  blood  he  had  found 
that  the  serum  contains  a  germ-destroying 
power  not  possessed  by  the  white  cor- 
puscles; that  the  two  were  engaged  in 
team-play  in  the  battle  with  microbes;  and 
that  upon  the  condition  of  the  patient's 
serum  depended  his  power  to  fight  a 
microbe  disease. 

This  was  his  first  new  departure.  His 
second  was  this — to  find  out  from  a 
microscopic  examination  of  the  patient's 
blood  just  what  its  resisting  power  might 
be  at  any  given  time,  and  by  this  to  find 
out  when  to  inject  the  vaccine.  In  this 
way  the  treatment  is  made  to  conform  to 
the  patient,  and  not  the  patient  to  the 
treatment.  This  was  a  study  in  practical 
humanism,  and  is  only  a  scientific  way  of 


382 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


saying  that  in  the  cure  of  disease  the 
personality  of  the  patient  is  a  very  im- 
portant factor.  The  third  step  is  having 
determined  what  microbe  the  patient  has. 
from  it  to  prepare  a  vaccine  for  injection. 

You  walk  into  the  laboratory  of  the 
Toronto  General  Hospital  and  ask  for 
the  opsonins  treatment.  The  doctor  tells 
you  that  the  carbuncle  on  your  neck  is 
caused  by  a  "staphylococcus"  germ — and 
you  have  nothing  in  your  vocabulary  to 
contradict  him. 

"  Ever  see  that  germ  ?-"'  he  asks.  "  ^^'ell 
here "'  He  picks  up  a  bottle  contain- 
ing a  piece  of  gelatin,  or  something  of 
that  sort,  on  which  he  has  cultivated  a 
furze  something  hke  a  mould.  ''There 
they  are.  That  carbuncle  contains  mil- 
lions of  them." 

Here  again  you  are  wise  not  to  argue. 
You  expect  that  he  will  at  once  inject  a 
fluid  into  you  and  next  morning  you  will 
have  no  carbuncles.  Not  so  fast,  my  friend. 
He  must  first  discover  your  "opsonic 
index." 

"And  what  might  the  opsonic  index 
be?-'"  you  ask  him. 

He  smiles.  "We  shall  see";  picks  up  a 
glass  needle  about  the  size  of  a  hair  and 
jabs  it  painlessly  into  the  top  joint  of  your 
finger.  Blood  comes.  This  he  must 
analyse  in  order  to  see  what  your  serum 
is  doing;  but  first  to  prevent  the  serum 
from  clotting  as  it  cools,  he  draws  off  this 
blood  and  mixes  it  wdth  a  saline  solution 
to  prevent  it  from  clotting.  Then  he 
empties  the  mixture  into  a  machine  that 
looks  like  a  diminutive  cream  separator, 
which  in  eft'ect  really  it  is.  He  sets  this 
centrifugaliser  jigging,  and  in  a  glass 
tube  appears  the  mixture,  but  the  red 
corpuscles  are  at  the  bottom,  then  the 
whites,  and  on  top  of  that  the  serum. 
Now,  haMing  got  these  elements  separated, 
he  is  well  on  the  road  to  getting  your 
opsonic  index.  Into  a  long  needle-like 
glass  tube  viith  marks  on  the  outside  and 
a  syringe  rubber  at  the  big  end,  he  draws 
a  certain  measured  quantity  of  white 
corpuscles;  then  a  pad  of  air;  then  by 
measurement  an  equal  quantity  of  serun^ 


then  more  air  to  keep  them  from  mixing 
for  the  present;  then  an  equal  quantity 
of  an  "emulsion"  which  he  has  prepared 
from  the  bacteria  in  the  bottle. 

This  threefold  mixture  he  squirts  into  a 
tube,  shakes  them  up  like  medicine  and 
sets  the  tube  away  in  an  incubator.  This 
incubator  is  kept  at  blood  heat,  and  it 
brings  the  mixture  of  serum,  leucocytes 
and  bacteria  to  the  same  temperature  as 
the  blood  in  your  body  from  which  the 
serum  and  the  leucocytes  came.  Fif- 
teen minutes  is  long  enough  for  that,  and 
during  that  fifteen  minutes  at  blood  heat 
in  the  incubator  your  opsonic  index  has 
been  figured  out  to  a  dot  by  the  serum 
and  the  leucocytes  in  the  mixture. 

The  mixture  is  now  smeared  on  films 
and  the  films  put  under  the  microscope. 
The  doctor  wishes  to  find  how  the  germ- 
killing  power  of  your  blood  compares 
to  that  of  a  healthy  man  or  to  that  of  four 
healthy  men  averaged  up.  He  has  already 
got  the  opsonic  index  of  the  healthy  blood. 
The  comparative  result  shows  five  of  your 
white  corpuscles  containing  ten  dead 
bacteria;  with  five  corpuscles  from  healthy 
blood  containing  twenty  bacteria.  From 
this  he  figures  that  the  germ-disposing 
properties  of  the  serum  in  your  blood  is 
as  lo  to  20;  or  that  your  opsonic  index 
is  .5.  That  may  be  the  fighting  power 
of  your  blood  at  the  first  injection  of 
vaccine. 

The  first  result  of  the  injection  is  that 
your  opsonic  index  goes  down;  then  it 
rises  as  shewn  in  the  foregoing  curve  and 
rises  a  httle  higher  than  before — that  is, 
your  white  corpuscles  take  up  more 
bacteria.  Then  again  is  the  time  for 
another  injection;  and  so  on,  time  after 
time,  always  injecting  at  the  favourable 
moment  when  the  resisting  power  of  the 
blood  is  on  the  upward  movement,  till 
your  opsonic  index  rises  to  normal  or 
above   it   and   does  not   go   below   that. 

This,  as  far  as  possible  free  from 
technicalities  and  from  at  least  radical 
inaccuracies,  is  the  treatment  kno^vTi  as 
the  opsonic  theory  of  which  a  Canadian 
doctor  was  the  first  American  student. 


EX-HI.\UU    SOLDIERS    AT    VICTORIA, 


Canada's  New  Immigrant 

By  J.  BARCLAY  WILLIAMS  and 
SAINT  N.  SIXG 


Mr.  Williams,  a  Canadian,  and  Mr.  Sing,  a  native  of  India,  widely 
differ  regarding  the  desirability  of  Hindu  immigrants 


R.WILLIAMS  writes:  The 
Province  of  British  Col- 
umbia seems  doomed  to  have 
a  standing  trouble  in  the 
matter  of  immigration.  For 
years  the  intrusion  of  the  Chinese  and 
Japanese  gave  rise  to  all  manner  of 
difficulty,  and  resulted  in  the  passing  of 
exclusion  acts  by  the  local  legislature, 
to  be  in  turn  disallowed  by  the  Federal 
Government  at  Ottawa.  This  difficulty 
was  overcome  some  seventeen  months 
ago,  when  the  Dominion  Government 
practically  excluded  the  Chinese  by  the 
raising  of  the    head    tax    to    S5C0.      As 

383 


a  precautionary  measure  the  Japanese 
Government  had  prior  to  this  taken 
upon  itself  to  restrict  the  emigration  of 
subjects  from  that  country,  rather  than 
submit  to  the  indignity  of  having  exclusion 
laws  enacted  against  their  admission. 
But  no  sooner  had  the  Chinese  and  Japan- 
ese immigration  been  brought  to  a  satis- 
factory condition  than  a  new  contention 
arose.  This  was  an  invasion  from  India, 
which  promises  to  be  a  more  difficult  one 
to  control,  owing  to  the  fact  that  the 
Hindus  are  British  subjects,  and  as  such 
cannot  be  excluded  from  the  Empire. 
The    word    has   apparently   been    passed 


384 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


NEWLY-ARRIVED    IIIMH   ~     l.l\i;i>    UP    OX    C.P.R.    WHARF    AT   VICTORIA,    B.C. 


around,  and  each  steamer  from  the  Orient 
brings  its  quota  of  these  people. 

The  class  of  Hindus  that  have  invaded 
British  Columbia  are  commonly  known 
as  Sikhs,  meaning  the  lower  class,  entirely 
dependent  upon  their  physical  capabilities 
— those  who  have  no  set  aim  in  life. 
They  are  the  "coolies"  of  Calcutta.  In 
stature  the  average  Sikh  is  taller  than  our 
countrymen.  His  limbs  are  slender  and 
his  body  gaunt.     The  complexion  is  dark 


brown,  while  his  hair  is  long  and  black. 
In  dress  he  copies  the  European  with  the 
exception  of  the  head  adornment,  which 
is  substituted  by  the  turban. 

The  Hindu  is  not  adapted  to  take  the 
})lace  filled  by  the  Chinamen  and  Japs  in 
this  country.  He  is  not  satisfied  in  turn- 
ing himself  to  any  and  every  class  of  work 
which  presents  itself.  A  job  lasting  a 
day  or  a  week  has  no  allurement  for  him. 
He  must  be  ensured  steadv  work  for  a 


HINDU    IMMIGRANTS    PREPARING    A    MEAL    ON    C  P.R.    WHARF    AT    VICTORIA,    B.C. 


CANADA'S    NEW    IMMIGRANT 


.S85 


}ear  or  l(;nger.  The  caste  system  ex- 
cludes his  employment  as  a  cook,  as  well 
as  in  many  other  hnes  of  work.  No  meat 
would  be  prepared  by  him,  much  less 
would  he  handle  any  animals  about  to  be 
slaughtered  for  the  purpose  of  food. 

The  caste  of  the  Hindu  embodies 
many  singular  and  fancied  beliefs.  Ac- 
cording to  the  laws  of  Brahmanism,  the 
Hindus  are  divided  into  hereditary 
classes  or  castes.  All  members  of  one 
caste  are,  theoretically,  of  equal  rank,  and 
of  the  .same  profession  or  occupation,  and 
are  prohibited  from  intermarriage  or 
eating  with  those  not  of  their  own  caste. 
The  original  castes  are  four,  namely:  the 
Behmins,  or  sacerdotal  order;  the  Ksha- 
triyas,  or  soldiers  and  rulers ;  the  Vaisyas, 
or  husbandmen  and  merchants;  the 
Sudras,  or  labourers  and  mechanics.  Men 
of  no  caste  are  Pariahs,  or  outcasts. 
Numerous  mixed  classes  or  castes  have 
sprung  up  in  the  course  of  time.  The 
castes  emigrating  to  Canada  seem  to  be 
a  mi.xture  of  Kshatriyas  and  Sudras, 
although  they  have  transgressed  the  com- 
mandments originally  laid  down  by  their 
different  Mahomets. 

Unless  these  ridiculous  forms  of  wor- 
ship are  totally  relinquished,  the  Hindu 
will  be  practically  worthless  in  a  country 
Hke  ours  for  numerous  reasons.  He  is 
forced  to  do  his  own  cooking,  and  par- 
take of  only  such  morsels  as  are  prepared 
either  by  himself  or  a  member  of  his  caste. 
Two  castes  are  not  permitted  to  work  side 
by  side,  nor  for  the  same  company,  and 
were  the  number  of  one  caste  inadequate, 
it  would  be  necessary  to  delegate  a  member 
of  that  sect  in  quest  of  reinforcements,  or 
be  under  the  penalty  of  losing  those  al- 
ready employed.  This  naturally  has  a 
deterrent  effect  on  the  welfare  of  the  Hindu. 
Probably  the  two  most  prosperous  com- 
munities of  Hindus  in  British  Columbia 
are  those  working  in  the  rural  district  near 
Victoria,  and  at  Mileside,  near  New 
Westminster.  At  the  former  place  over 
loo  are  employed;  in  the  latter  place  there 
is  a  similar  number.  These  have,  so  far, 
proved  satisfactory  to  a  certain  extent, 
but  do  not  equal  the  Orientals. 

As  tradesmen,  these  East  Indians  do 
not  seem  to  become  apt  scholars,  and  their 
knowledge    of    domestic    duties    is    very 


limited.  P!iy>i(ally,  they  are  untiti/or 
manual  labour,  their  diet  being  .so  light 
and  unsustaining  as  to  have  reduced 
them  to  weaklings.  Not  accustomed  to 
the  mode  of  labour  as  conducted  in  this 
country,  they  soon  become  weary,  and 
only  by  dint  of  force  do  they  manage  to 
hold  through  the  day. 

The  condition  of  the.se  deluded  Hi.ndus 
is  a  sad  one.  It  is  a  daily  sight  to  see 
them  wandering  here,  there  and  every- 
where, half-starved,  half-naked,  hording 
in  wretched  hovels,  ordered  here,  exclud- 
ed there,  and  despised  everywhere. 
Their  clothing  is  of  the  thinnest  and 
poorest.  Some  are  clad  only  in  scanty 
pantaloons,  a  sweater  or  undergarment, 
and  possibl}'  a  coat;  barely  warm  enough 
for  the  warmest  summer  weather.  On 
rainy  days  the}-  wrap  themselves  in 
blankets,  which  scarcely  cover  their  shak- 
ing bodies.  The  following  taken  from  a 
local  newspaper  explains  the  conditions 
of  these  Sikhs  graphically: 

"Vancouver's  Black  Hole  of  Calcutta. 
Horde  of  freezing  immigrants  take  pos- 
session of  a  wretched  tenement  condemned 
by  health  authorities.  It  was  a  combina- 
tion of  Libby  Prison  and  the  Black  Hole 
of  Calcutta,  with  a  little  touch  of  Dante's 
Inferno,  and  a  free  fight  thrown  in. 
One  Hindu  has  a  shack  rented  on  Elm 
Drive  near  Powell  Street,  in  the  locality 
known  as .  Cedar  Cove.  It  appears  that 
he  acts  as  a  runner  for  his  own  lodging 
house  whenever  a  steamer  laden  with 
Hindus  arrives  here.  He  is  generally 
successful  in  getting  a  large  bunch,  all 
of  whomx  pay  in  advance.  He  expects 
them  to  trust  him,  but  he  trusts  nobody. 
This  shack  was  formerly  occupied  by  a 
family  comprising  two  parents  and  twelve 
children.  The  only  way  they  could  crowd 
in,  as  it  was  notorious  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, was  six  in  a  bed,  and  two  on  the 
floor.  To  this,  after  benevolent  Dr. 
Munro,  Dominion  Medical  Health  Offi- 
cer for  the  Port  of  Vancouver,  had  seen 
that  they  were  supplied  at  their  own.  ex- 
pense with  proper  clothing,  there  wended 
yesterday  some  ninety  Hindus.  The  shack 
is  one  from  which  the  health  authorities 
have  six  times  bodily  'fired'  the  occupants. 
It  is  suited  for  about  six  people,  allowing 
the  widest  stretch  of  the  law  regarding 


386 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


the  amount  of  cubic  air  space  that  should 
be  allowed  for  each  individual.  About 
seventy  of  the  Hindus  got  inside,  only  a 
man  who  has  packed  sardines  can  ever  tell 
how.  That  still  left  a  nimiber  outside. 
They  had  paid  for  shelter  and  they 
wanted  it. 

"Then  the  lirst  row  started.  The 
crowd  outside  wanted  in,  and  the  ciowd 
inside  w-anted  to  hold  their  advantage. 
People  who  witnessed  it  say  that  the 
fight  was  terrific.  Blood  flowed  like 
water,  turbans  were  torn  off  and  trampled 
upon.  Dr.  Munro's  slick  yellow  slickers 
were  torn  to  shreds,  and,  for  a  time,  it 
looked  as  if  the  cottage  itself  would  be  torn 
from  its  foundations.  Some  who  were 
out  got  in,  and  some  who  were  in  were 
pulled  out,  and  finally  the  fight  ended 
from  sheer  exhaustion  on  the  part  of  the 
participants.  It  was  then  something  like 
the  afterclap  of  a  college  cane-rush.  The 
ones  outside  slunk  away  to  the  vacant 
spaces  alongside  the  street  and  laid  down 
to  rest;  the  men  inside  made  as  merry  as 
their  exhausted  state  would  allow. 

"Then  there  was  quiet  for  a  while  till 
the  men  who  were  inside  wanted  to  lie 
down  to  rest.  It  was  just  as  possible  for 
them  to  do  so  as  it  would  be  for  one  of 
the  aforementioned  canned  sardines  to 
turn  a  somersault.  Then  started  another 
pandemonium  that  the  people  in  the  vicin- 
ity say  could  hardly  be  paralleled.  These 
cooped-in  men  fought  for  a  chance  to  lie 
down,  just  as  the  men  in  Libby  Prison  did, 
or  as  the  poor  wretches  in  the  Black  Hole 
of  Calcutta  fought  for  a  place  near  the 
ventilating  hole. 

"The  yells,  oaths,  curses  and  shrieks 
awakened  every  one  for  blocks  around, 
and  when  Policeman  O' Grady  arrived  he 
found  a  scene  of  filth  and  blood  and  batter- 
ed, frenzied  faces  that  he  hopes  never  to 
have  duplicated  before  his  vision. 

"  He  telephoned  from  a  nearby  residence 
for  help,  and  with  the  aid  of  some  Hindus 
who  could  speak  English,  enough  of  the 
crowd  were  induced  to  seek  shelter  in  a 
woodshed  and  under  the  porch,  and  in 
the  wide,  wide  world,  and  temporary' 
peace  was  obtained,  but  at  intervals  the 
row  was  kept  up  all  night." 

Since  the  foregoing  account  was  written, 
an  old  abandoned  cannerv  on  the  Fraser 


River  has  been  requisitioned  for  the  use 
of  these  homeless  unfortunates,  which  is 
little  better  than  nothing.  It  is  so  situated 
that  the  cold  winds  from  the  gulf  sweep 
through  the  ramshackle  building  with 
seemingl}'  double  force.  In  this  have 
been  housed  nearly  three  hundred  men, 
who  are  required  to  pay  a  rental  of 
two  dollars  a  month  each  for  their  priv- 
ilege. Besides  this,  there  has  been  erect- 
ed a  temporary  refuge  in  the  city, 
where  there  will  be  at  least  partial  shelter 
for  those  who,  as  yet,  are  not  accom- 
modated. A  large  tent  has  been  pur- 
chased by  philanthropic  persons,  and  all 
expenses  defrayed  by  the  Hindus  them- 
selves. 

That  the  city  or  the  Federal  Govern- 
ment will  have  the  keeping  of  these  desti- 
tutes is  evident.  It  is  the  opinion  of  all 
that  steps  should  at  once  be  taken  to  ap- 
prise the  Indian  Government  of  these 
circumstances,  and  warn  intending  emi- 
grants of  their  unfortunate  brothers' 
mistake. 

From  January  ist,  igo6,  to  the  31st  of 
October,  there  arrived  in  British  Colum- 
bia, 2,195  Hindus;  100  were  deported  on 
account  of  infections.  Since  the  end  of 
October,  there  have  arrived  over  470.  and 
of  these  twenty-five  were  deported  owing 
to  infections. 

The  general  feeling  throughout  the 
districts  affected  by  the  immigration  of 
the  Hindu  is  not  at  all  favourable  to 
him.  Although  no  outward  manifesta- 
tion of  enmity  has  been  apparent,  there 
lies  underneath  a  sirhmering  of  dislike 
as  evidenced  in  several  instances  of 
late.  That  the  time  is  not  far  distant 
when  the  Sikh  will  retrace  his  steps  is  the 
popular  behef,  as  it  only  needs  the  neces- 
sary cost  of  transportation  to  induce  him 
to  do  so. 

MR.  SING'S  VERSION 

"  T  HOPE  you  will  strongly  condemn 
■*-  the  disgraceful  habit  of  speaking  of  the 
'  black  man ,'  which  is  wrong  as  it  is  untrue. 
The  East  Indians  are  of  the  same  origin  as 
we  ourselves,  and  have  quite  the  same 
features  as  we  have.  I  have  now  had  for 
nearly  six  months  two  Indians  constantly 
about  my  rooms,  and  helping  me  in  many 


CANADA'S    NEW   IMMIGRANT 


387 


ways,  and  1  never  saw  better  servants  or 
more  amiaVjle,  more  high  and  well-bred 
people,  or  more  attentive  or  intelligent,  and 
devoted  in  their  service.  Many  who  have 
been  in  India  will  tell  you  the  same,  and  it 
is  disgraceful  to  think  how  shamefully 
they  are  often  used  by  the  young  English- 
men, officers  and  civilians." 

There  is  a  certain  ring  of  sincerity  and 
conscientious  wrathfulness  about  the  fore- 
going which  renders  it  peculiarly  charm- 
ing. These  noble  words  are  reproduced 
from  an  autograph  letter  written  by  the 
late  Queen  Victoria  to  George,  the  late 
Duke  of  Cambridge,  a  life  of  whom  has 
just  been  published. 

I  am  reminded  of  these  words  by  the 
disgraceful  treatment  that  has  been  given 
to  the  British  India  immigrants  into 
British  Columbia,  and  it  is  a  great  con- 
solation to  me  to  know  that  if  the  late 
Queen  were  still  alive  she  would  be  the 
tirst  to  condemn  in  fullest  terms  "the 
extreme  spirit  of  hostility  which  has  been 
evinced  towards  the  Hindus  who  have 
arrived  in  British  Columbia."' 

WTiy  "men  who  have  been  joined  by 
the  ties  of  danger,  suffering  and  death  are 
now  bid  to  be  strangers  and  enemies"  it  is 
the  purpose  of  this  article  to  show. 

The  causes  that  have  led  to  East  Indian 
emigration,  the  conditions  under  which 
the  immigrants  into  British  Columbia 
live  and  work  and  their  future  prospects 
have  been  grossly  misrepresented  or  utter- 
ly misunderstood.  The  dise:.ussion  of 
the  subject  by  the  press  and  public  of 
the  Pacific  Coast  of  Canada,  has  been 
not  only  frantically  furious,  but  it  has 
been  characterised  also  with  the  densest 
ignorance  about  the  lives,  habits  and  in- 
fluence of  the  East  Indian  immigrants 
in  particular,  and  about  the  present  con- 
ditions in  modern  India,  in  general. 

The  East  India  immigrants  are  in 
British  Columbia  "out  of  compliment" 
to  the  Canadian  West.  The  province  is 
rich  in  mineral  and  material  wealth,  and 
has  a  uniformly  healthful  climate.  But 
it  is  unfortunately  very  thinly  populated. 
A  typical  Canadian  remarked  to  the 
writer:  "British  Columbia  is  probably 
one  of  the  richest  areas  in  the  world,  and  I 
can  not   but   feel   pleased  that  this  fact 


is  known  even  so  far  awav  as  in  distant 
India." 

But,  how  did  the  country  attract  the 
attention  of  some  of  the  India  immigrants  ? 
is  a  question  that  has  puzzled  many  a 
Canadian.  Specious  explanations  have 
been  offered,  which  reflect  great  credit 
on  the  plausible  inventive  genius  of 
their  authors — but  these  are  not  only 
wrong,  but  entirely  misleading. 

It  is  less  than  five  years  since  the  first 
India  pioneer  landed  in  Vancouver,  B.C. 
For  three  years,  India  immigrants  kept 
coming  in  small  parties  of  about  two  or 
three  in  number.  From  searching  en- 
quiries, I  find  that  these  early  pioneers 
were  full  of  fearless  enterprise  and  dash, 
and  the  search  for  newer  and  richer 
fields  of  work  attracted  their  roving  dis- 
positions and  made  them  drift  to  British 
Columbia.  In  every  instance  they  had 
rambled  through  one  or  more  of  the 
far  eastern  countries.  A  httle  later 
came  some  ex-soldiers,  who  were  doubt- 
less actuated  in  coming  to  this  land, 
having  heard  glowing  descriptions  of  the 
future  of  the  Canadian  West  from  their 
English  military  authorities.  All  of  these 
early  pioneers  knew  a  smattering  of 
English  and  soon  after  their  arrival  in 
Vancouver  readily  secured  work.  Con- 
cerning their  occupations  it  may  be  said 
that  they  did  odd  jobs,  taking  care  of 
gardens,  clearing  the  ground  of  the 
stumps  of  trees,  working  in  the  mills  and 
the  Hke. 

According  to  the  statistics  available, 
the  number  of  India  immigrants  who 
are  at  present  in  British  Columbia  is 
roughly  2,500  persons.  They  are  chiefly 
scattered  around  the  Pacific  Coast,  but 
some  have  gone  into  the  interior  of  British 
Columbia.  Seventeen  hundred  of  them 
arrived  in  the  province  during  the  last 
eight  months  of  last  year.  With  very 
few  exceptions,  these  men  Ijail  from  the 
Punjab  or  the  north-west  frontier  Prov- 
ince. In  the  earlier  batches,  they 
migrated  from  the  China  coastal  towns, 
Manchuria,  Siam,  the  Mala  van  Isles, 
the  Straits  Settlements  and  Burma,  where 
they  had  worked  either  as  policemen  or 
watchmen.  A  large  percentage  of  the 
India  immigrants  into  British  Columbia 


388 


THE    CAXADIAX    MAGAZINE 


consists  of  soldiers  who  ha\'e  earned 
honourable  discharge.  In  the  latter  ship- 
ments, the  immigrants  have  arrived 
straight  from  India,  coming  direct  from 
their  rural  farms  and  villages.  They 
are  chiefly  peasants  and  farmers.  They 
are  mostly  Sikhs  and  Mohamedons,  with 
some  Hindus. 

The  cause  of  the  present  influx  is  simple 
and  can  be  easily  explained.  In  India 
the  wages  are  extremely  low,  and  of  late 
years  people  are  growing  dissatisfied 
with  existing  conditions,  throwing  away 
caste  and  reUgious  prejudices,  and  migrat- 
ing to  foreign  countries  where  hard, 
honest  work  brings  in  comfortable  com- 
petence. Tradition  and  religious  senti- 
ment in  India  teach  perfect  allegiance  to 
the  British  throne  and  the  East  Indian 
people  greatly  revere  and  love  the  reign- 
ing sovereign.  Accordingly,  emigrants 
from  India  prefer  going  to  the  new 
countries  which  are  integral  parts  of  the 
British  Empire,  expecting  cordial,  brother- 
ly welcome,  and  British  fair-play,  which 
they  themselves  accord  to  the  Britons  in 
India.  Letters  from  the  advance  guard 
in  British  Columbia  are  the  immediate 
cause  of  India  immigrants  having  in- 
creasingly arri\ed  on  the  west  coast 
during  the  last  few  months.  I  was  re- 
cently travelling  through  the  far  eastern 
countries  and  had  the  opportunity  of 
observing  how  eagerly  these  letters  were 
circulated  by  the  recipients,  read  with 
interest  and  decisions  made  with  precip- 
itate haste  to  take  the  earliest  opportun- 
ity to  go  to  a  British  country  where 
honest,  hard  work  earned  competence. 

The  City  of  Vancouver  has  grown 
rapidly  and  the  house  accommodation 
there  is  very  insufficient.  Accordingly, 
the  India  immigrants  on  arrival  have  to 
put  up  with  any  sort  of  housing  they  can 
get.  That  most  of  these  houses  are  poor, 
miserable  shacks,  ill-ventilated  and  badly 
plumbed,  damp  and  unhygienic  is  unfor- 
tunately true.  But  for  this  the  immi- 
grants are  not  to  blame.  Commenting 
upon  the  lack  of  house  accommodation, 
Dr.  Alexander  S.  Munro,  the  Dominion 
Immigration  Inspector  at  Vancouver, 
remarked:  "It  is  a  shame  these  Hindus 
are  treated  as  they  have  been.  They 
all  have  money  in  their  pockets  to  pay  for 


whatever  they  get,  but  the  trouble  is 
they  can't  get  it." 

Yes',  the  trouble  is,  "they  can't  get  it." 
But  the  men  who  have  the  fearlessness 
and  enterprise  to  cross  many  seas  and 
oceans,  their  indomitable  spirits  un- 
dauntingly  trampling  that  East  .ndian 
fiend  of  fiends — the  caste — have  the  pluck 
and  perseverance  to  endeavour  to  over- 
come these  difliculties.  To  surmount 
the  lack  of  house  accommodation  they 
have  united  in  organising  houses  on  co- 
operative plans  and  building  Sikh  temples 
and  Mohamedon  mosques,  which  beside 
furnishing  places  for  worship  will  meet 
a  very  acutely  felt  want  by  supplying 
housing  for  the  newly-arrived  and  un- 
employed immigrants.  These  ideas  have 
passed  the  chaotic  stage  of  early  concep- 
tion and  are  fast  getting  materialised. 

As  for  personal  cleanliness,  the  Hindus 
have  been  baselessly  slandered.  Those 
who  know  aught  about  the  people  of  India 
admit  that  the  East  Indians  attend  to 
their  ablutions  with  religious  sacredness, 
and  the  India  immigrants  who  are  now 
in  British  Columbia  are  no  exception  in 
this  respect. 

Coming  as  these  men  do  from  the  north- 
western parts  of  India  and  belonging  as 
they  do  to  the  martial  races  of  the  country, 
the  Hindu  immigrants  are  splendid-look- 
ing men.  They  are  tall  and  broad- 
shouldered  and  deep-winded;  muscular 
and  robust — men  who  can  patiently  put 
up  with  a  hard,  struggling,  tough  life. 
In  their  unique  eastern  head-dress  they 
look  picturesque,  which,  so  far  as  their 
dress  goes,  is  the  only  link  connecting 
them  with  the  Orient.  But  in  this 
twentieth  century,  the  commercial  spirit 
of  the  age  has  rendered  sentiment  sub- 
servient to  utility  and  the  picturesque 
head-dress,  though  quaint  to  the  western 
eye,  is  fast  disappearing  amongst  the 
advanced  section  of  the  immigrants.  In 
their  tidy  and  smart  semi-uniforms,  in 
their  trained  gait,  in  quick  perception  and 
bright  inteUigence,  these  men  compare 
favourably  with  any  immigrants  that 
have  ever  entered  British  Columbia  from 
the  Pacific  coastal  towns  or  drifted  from 
the  eastern  parts  of  Canada.  Morally 
they  hold  their  own  against  men  of  the 
same  class  and  condition  amongst  whom 


CANADA'S    XEAV    IMMIGRANT 


.389 


they  now  live  and  with  whom  they  work. 
In  his  abstemiousness  from  inebriating 
drinks  the  average  India  immigrant  can 
set  a  very  timely  lesson  to  his  fellow- 
workingman  of  other  nationalities.  It 
is  the  cause  of  much  gratification  to  the 
writer  that  never  in  the  annals  of  the 
police  court  in  British  Columbia  has  yet 
any  India  immigrant  been  convicted  of 
crime.  Can  any  other  immigration  of 
equal  dimensions  show  a  better  record? 

I  look  with  favour  upon  the  strenuous 
struggle  the  India  immigrants  are  making 
to  adjust  themselves  to  the  new  conditions, 
ways,  manners,  and  language  of  a  new 
country.  But  it  would  be  a  very  great 
misfortune  if  in  this  adjustment  the 
immigrants  lose  to  any  extent  their  high 
tone  of  morality  or  learn  the  peculiarly 
western  vice  of  drinking.  >^ 

From  what  already  has  been  written 
here  it  will  be  readily  seen  that  the  East 
India  immigrants  are  in  no  danger  of 
suffering  from  the  climatic  change.  The 
districts  of  which  they  are  natives  are 
cold  in  winter  and  have  a  long  "wet" 
rainy  season  in  addition.  Besides,  they 
possess  hardihood  of  a  very  distinct  kind 
and  in  a  most  remarkable  degree,  which 
has  been  put  to  very  trying  tests  and 
proved  on  the  battlefields  of  Chin^, 
Thibet  and  Afghanistan,  making  it  easy 
for  them  to  get  readily  acchmatised  and 
thrive  in  any  climate.  Coming  as  they 
do  from  the  proximity  of  the  Afghan 
border,  where  the  institutions  of  caste 
are  freer  than  anywhere  else  in  India, 
and  being  gifted  with  spirits  that  do  not 
respect  prudish  or  conventional  prejudices, 
they  are  naturally  not  hampered  with  that 
strictness  of  caste  regulations  that  would 
interfere  with  their  work  or  evervdav 
life. 

Yet,  if  one  were  to  beHeve  the  state- 
ments that  are  being  conspicuously 
paraded  in  a  section  of  the  British  Colum- 
bia press,  one  is  apt  to  think  that  this 
community  of  the  India  immigrants  in 
the  Canadian  West  is  most  criminally 
inclined,  filthy  and  unsanitary  by  habit; 
roguish  in  instinct  and  thoroughly  un- 
desirable. 

The  nature  of  these  flamboyant  and 
imflammatory  yellow  emanations  from  the 
morbidly  rabid  press  organs  of  \"ancouver 


and  \'ictoria  can  be  judged  by  the  fact 
that  I  would  deem  myself  guilty  of  a 
most  heinous  crime  were  I  to  quote  the 
mildest  of  them.  Well  may  Colonel  Falk- 
land, C.M.G.,  say: 

"When  I  hear  the  Sikhs  who  are  here 
now  in  Vancouver,  men  who  have  ^.erved 
in  regiments  bearing  on  their  colours  the 
names  of  battles  as  testimony  of  their 
loyalty  in  the  darkest  days  of  the  Mutiny, 
with  the  historic  names  of  the  great  soldiers 
who  commanded  them,  the  King  and 
members  of  our  Royal  Family  as  their 
colonels — when  I  say  that  I  hear  these 
men  speak  of  the  treatment  they  have 
received  here,  the  vile  abuse  of  themselves, 
the  falsehoods  as  to  their  character  and 
loyalty,  I  can  say  nothing,  but  only  hang 

my  head  in  shame As  regards  the 

inhumanity  of  their  (India  immigrants) 
treatment  on  arrival  and  since,  on  that 
score,  shame  must  forever  rest  upon  the 
name  of  this  city,  and  especially  upon 
those  who  have  engineered  the  present 
great  pubHc  scandal." 

Hard  words,  the  proverb  says,  break 
no  bones.  But  the  East  Indian  immigrants 
have  not  only  been  indiscriminately 
vilified,  but  they  have  been  most  arbi- 
trarily and  high-handedly  treated.  Refer- 
ence has  already  been  made  to  the  mali- 
cious spirit  which  has  shown  itself  in 
refusing  house  shelter  on  payrhent  to  the 
East  Indian  immigrants  Allusion  may 
be  made  to  the  inhuman  utterance  which 
a  leading  city  father  was  reported  in  the 
press  to  have  blustered  forth — that  he 
would  rather  see  a  Hindu  immigrant  die 
of  hunger  and  cold  before  his  ven-  eyes, 
than  succour  him,  a  statement  of  which  any 
living  being  having  pretension  to  humanity 
ought  to  be  ashamed.  Bad  as  these  in- 
stances are  they  pale  into  insignificance 
when  compared  with  the  act  of  the  Mayor 
of  Vancouver,  who,  on  October  15th  last 
arbitrarily  detained  very  nearly  two  hun- 
dred East  Indian  immigrants  on  board 
the  steamship  Empress  of  Japan.  The 
detention  lasted  for  more  than  two  da  vs. 

In  a  mob  meeting  organised  by  the 
''Mayor,"  the  character  of  which  can  be 
judged  from  the  fact  that  Colonel  Falk- 
land Warren,  late  R.A.,  while  speaking 
of  the  gross  misstatements  that  were 
being   made   about  the  immigrants,  was 


390 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


howled  down  and  not  allowed  to  speak,  a 
knot  of  political  and  socialist  agitators 
said  that  "Canada  is  a  white  man's 
country"  and  every  possible  means  should 
be  employed  to  keep  out  the  "millions  (of 
Hindus)  that  are  going  to  arrive  unless 
we  stop  them."  A  leading  lawyer  re- 
ferred to  the  harangues  delivered  at  this 
gathering  as  the  "height  of  frenzied  folly" 
and  added: 

"The  Mayor,  in  order  to  rouse  pubKc 
feeling  against  them,  has  declared  that 
this  is  a  white  man's  country.  It  is 
certainly  not  a  white  man's  empire,  and 
it  cannot  be  a  white  man's  empire  as  long 
as  it  retains  within  its  boundaries  three 
hundred  million  subjects  in  India.  As 
long  as  the  empire  exists  surely  every 
member  is  entitled  to  be  received  at  least 
as  well  as  such  foreign  races  as  the  Gali- 
cians,  Doukhobors,  Japanese  and  Chinese. 
They  are  not  only  of  the  same  em- 
pire but  of  the  same  race  with  others.  They 
have  been  the  supporters  of  the  empire. 
Their  fine  appearance  and  military  bear- 
ing, even  under  so  many  adverse  circum- 
stances, compares  very  favourably  with 
the  appearance  of  any  equal  number  of 
their  detractors." 

But  who  set  this  ball  of  iniquity  rolling? 
Who  is  at  the  bottom  of  this  shamefully 
and  meanly-conducted  agitation  ?  Who 
is  answerable  for  the  injustice,  iniquity 
and  brutality  that  has  characterised  for 
several  months  the  treatment  given  to 
the  East  Indian  immigrants? 

A  very  prominent  citizen  of  Vancouver 
on  being  introduced  to  the  writer  feelingly 
apologised,  saying:  "I  feel  ashamed  of 
myself  when  I  shake  hands  with  you. 
Our  people  have  treated  your  people 
disgracefully." 

I  do  not  in  any  way  wish  to  minimise 
the  great  opposition  that  has  been  offered 
to  the  India  immigrants  in  British  Col- 
umbia. But,  after  touring  the  entire 
length  of  Canada  and  gauging  the  senti- 
ments of  not  only  representative  British 
Columbian  men  and  women,  but  also  of 
the  Canadians  in  other  cities,  I  am  con- 
vinced that  the  sensible  portion  of  the 
community  has  not  only  nothing  to  do 
with  the  disgraceful  liberties  that  have 
been  taken  with  the  East  Indian  immi- 
grants  but    some   of   them    have   shown 


marvellous  courage  of  conviction  in  de- 
nouncing in  no  mincing  manner  the 
authors  of  this  great  public  scandal. 

The  opposition  that  the  East  Indians 
have  met  in  British  Columbia  is  at  best 
(or  worst)  merely  sectional.  Who  are  the 
authors  of  it,  it  is  not  for  the  present 
writer  to  say.  The  charges  that  have 
been  framed  against  the  East  Indians 
point  out  in  an  unmistakable  way  the 
people  who  have  engineered  this  agitation. 

These  lines  have  not  been  written  in 
any  rancorous  or  carping  spirit.  The 
writer  is  an  East  Indian  himself;  but  has 
attempted  to  approach  the  subject  from 
an  Imperialist's  point  of  view.  What  is 
going  to  be  the  upshot  of  this  deplorable 
agitation?  Where  is  this  unfortunate 
and  misguided  hostility  directed  against 
men  of  the  same  origin  and  empire  fated 
to  end?  are  questions  that  are  being 
constantly  asked. 

That  the  East  Indian  immigrants  are 
labouring  under  very  great  disadvantages 
at  present  can  not  be  disguised.  Im- 
agine a  set  of  newcomers  being  hounded 
by  a  knot  of  maliciously  persistent  and 
unscrupulous  agitators  and  detractors, 
pluckily  endeavouring  to  give  lie  to  the 
prejudicial  statements  about  their  lives, 
habits,  virility,  adaptability  and  worthi- 
ness. Think  of  these  men  securing  posi- 
tions for  themselves  when  systematic  efforts 
are  being  made  to  convince  the  employers 
that  these  men  are  without  brawn  and 
muscle,  that  they  are  incapable  of  enduring 
hardship,  that  they  are  unsanitary  and 
infested  with  objectionable  caste  prej- 
udices. 

These  are  serious  drawbacks.  But 
that  the  wonderful  hardihood  of  the 
East  Indian  immigrants,  their  great  capac- 
ity for  bearing  trying  hardships  and 
overcoming  difficulties,  which  has  been 
sorely  proved  in  many  places  and  found 
successful,  would  not  desert  them  in 
Canada  is  hardly  to  be  doubted.  That 
they  will  eventually  succeed  in  conquering 
the  disabilities  and  drawbacks  under 
which  they  labour  and  lead  prosperous 
and  noble  lives  is  an  assured  and  foregone 
conclusion  with  those  who  know  them 
intimately.  As  it  is,  there  has  been  some 
difficulty  with  which  the  recently  arrived 
immigrants  have  found  work.     But  most 


CANADA'S    NEW    lALMIGRAXT 


891 


of  them  who  are  already  in  tlie  country 
have  secured  work  or  have  the  prospect 
of  getting  jobs  in  the  near  future. 

It  would  doubtless  be  deemed  impert- 
inent on  my  part  were  1  to  tell  Canadians 
that  the  Canadian  Far  West  has  splendid 
mines,  fisheries,  lumbering  and  fruit- 
ranching  districts  that  are  suftering  from 
scarcity  of  labour.  That  the  East  Indian 
immigrants  who  are  already  in  British 
Columbia,  or  may  arrive  later,  should  find 
no  difhculty  in  linding  work  in  the  fish- 
eries, mines,  mills,  fruit  ranches,  railroads, 
or  clearing  forests,  is  apparent.  The  im- 
migrants have  done  similar  work  in  India 
and  elsewhere.  The  Mayor  of  Vancouver, 
in  a  conversation  with  me,  said  that  there 
was  room  for  at  least  a  thousand  domes- 
tics in  that  city  alone.  The  testimony  of 
the  late  Queen  quoted  at  the  outset  of 
this  article  as  to  the  excellence  of  the  East 
Indian  servants,  is  daily  corroborated  by 
those  who  have  lived  in  India.  Talking 
of  his  East  Indian  employees,  Mr.  J.  F. 
McRae,  of  the  Rat  Portage  Mills,  said: 
"That  he  would  rather  increase  the  wages 
of  the  Hindus  he  employed  than  lose 
them."  Canada  has  learned  to  associate 
tea  with  India.  The  tea  industry  in  India 
is  of  recent  growth,  and  where  the  tea 
plantations  exist  to-day,  there  once  stood 
huge  forests  and  thick  jungles.  The 
northwestern  parts  of  India,  whence  these 
men  hail,  are  known  to  be  the  fruit  regions 
of  India.  India  is  already  well  intersected 
with  railroads.  The  past  experience  of 
these  immigrants,  or  those  who  may  ar- 
rive later  from  India,  is  a  great  asset,  and 
with  the  remarkable  aptitude  they  possess 
to  familiarise  themselves  with  the  new 
methods  prevailing  in  Canada,  they  will 
prove  of  inestimable  service  in  developing 
the  country. 

It  is  surprising  and  unfortunate,  in- 
deed, that  such  men  should  be  received 
even  with  sectional  hostility.  It  is  all  the 
more  surprising  that  the  labour  union  peo- 
ple should  oppose  them.  These  immi- 
grants have  suffered  most  poignant  pain 
bv  living  and  working  at  starvation  wages. 


and,  if  there  are  any  people  in  the  world 
who  know  the  baneful  effect  of  wages,  and 
who  are  utterly  opposed  to  the  very  idea 
of  .starvation  wages,  they  are  the.se  im- 
migrants from  India.  In  working  against 
the  interests  of  these  men,  the  unionists 
endeavour  to  supplant  the  motives  and 
the  cause  which  brought  them  into  exist- 
ence. The  India  immigrants  have  al- 
ready given  ample  proof  that,  instead  'of 
cheapening  labour,  they  will  stick  to  a 
reasonable  price  for  the  work  they  render. 

In  the  estimation  of  the  writer  of  these 
lines,  the  influence  these  immigrants  are 
destined  to  wield  in  this  country  will  be 
uniformly  good  and  healthful.  That  they 
will  improve  the  tone  of  morality  and  pro- 
mote soberness  amongst  the  working 
people,  that  their  peaceful,  thrifty  and 
law-abiding  lives,  that  their  hard,  honest 
and  patient  work  will  make  for  the  good 
of  the  whole  community,  time  will  doubt- 
less demonstrate. 

India  is  waging  ceaseless  struggle  for 
self-government.  But  this  struggle  is 
constitutional  and  untainted  with  blood. 
India  does  not  desire  to  sever  the  Imperial 
bonds.  During  the  last  half-century,  Can- 
ada pursued  the  same  policy.  Canada 
enjoys  perfect  internal  self-government, 
and  still  remains  as  one  of  the  staunchest 
integral  parts  of  the  British  Empire. 
India  will  reach  that  stage  later  on. 
Meanwhile  these  immigrants  supply  ad- 
ditional cords  to  cement  the  union  of  the 
respective  countries  of  the  empire,  and 
supply  the  link  which  will  make  these 
members  of  the  same  empire  take  more 
than  passing  interest  in  the  successes  and 
problems  of  one  another.  Let  every  one 
wish  that  Canada  be  for  the  Canadians 
and  India  for  the  East  Indians — but,  not 
at  the  sacrifice  of  Imperial  ties.  WTiile  it 
is  extremely  unlikely  that  the  immigration 
from  India  will  ever  assume  the  propor- 
tions of  an  "invasion,"  let  it  be  hoped 
that  the  East  Indian  immigrants  would 
not  think  the  British  Columbian  people 
to  be  like  those  "who,  'gainst  the  house- 
less stranger- shut  the  door." 


A  T  the  convention  of  the  German 
■^"^  Chambers  of  Commerce  Herr  Dern- 
berg,  Germany's  Colonial  Director,  ex- 
plained what  he  called  the  Kaiser's 
world-policy.  Herr  Dernberg  wanted  his 
hearers  to  infer  that  the  employment  of 
German  workmen,  the  Hvelihood  of 
millions,  and  the  investment  of  German 
capital  in  trade  and  navigation  were 
dependent  upon  the  maintenance  of  the 
colonies.  The  thought  at  the  back  of 
this  is  that  a  colony  is  a  place  where  you 
can  sell  your  commodities  free  from  the 
competition  of  other  nations.  The  col- 
onists are  to  have  nothing  to  say  in  the 
matter.  Their  role  is  to  consume  Ger- 
man goods  at  monopoly  prices  and  look 
pleasant.  ^^ 

Herr  Dernberg  said  that  in  the  middle 
of  the  1 8th  century  q, 000,000  people 
spoke  EngHsh  and  20,000,000  spoke  Ger- 
man. Now,  120,000,000  speak  English 
and  but  70,000,000  German.  The  Colonial 
Director  should  follow  his  reasoning  out. 
Has  the  spread  of  English  been  due  to  a 
close  corporation  policy  in  colonies? 
Not  at  all.  She  has  become  a  great 
colonising  power  by  pursuing  the  prin- 
ciple of  leaving  colonists  to  manage  their 
own  affairs,  even  to  the  extent  of  putting 
prohibitive  customs  duties  on  her  goods. 
Notwithstanding  the  Revolutionary  War 
the  United  States  were  no  real  exception 
to  this  rule.  She  is  the  only  country  in 
the  world  that  has  self-governing  colonies, 
and  perhaps  Herr  Dernberg  would  find 
in  that  fact  her  success,  rather  than  in 
the  cultivation  of  the  idea  that  colonies 
are  places  where  the  consumption  of 
the  products  of  the  homeland  serve  to 
furnish  employment  for  its  people  and 
trade  opportunities  for  its  manufacturers 
and  merchants. 

The  Colonial  Director's  speech  is  a 
contribution  to  the  election  contest  that 
is  now  impending  in  the  Fatherland. 
The  Reichstag  was  dissolved  because  it 

392 


refused  to  vote  the  full  sum  asked  for 
the  pacification  of  German  West  Africa. 
The  struggle  is  really  between  those  who 
not  only  have  a  colonial  programme, 
but  who  also  support  the  movement  for 
the  creation  of  a  strong  navy.  Germany's 
activity  in  building  warships  is  generally 
thought  to  have  sinister  meaning  for  the 
British  Isles.  There  may  at  times  have 
been  an  idea  that  Germany  could  make 
an  alliance  with  some  power  possessing 
a  considerable  navy  and  that  the  com- 
bined fleets  might  dispute  the  mastery 
of  the  sea  with  her  who  is  so  imiversally 
regarded  as  supreme  there.  Is  that  not 
a  far-fetched  and  improbable  aim?  It 
is  far  more  likely  that  the  United  States 
is  the  power  upon  which  the  Kaiser  has 
his  eye.  Germany  has  never  subscribed 
to  the  Monroe  Doctrine,  and  she  never 
will,  so  long  as  there  are  fair  lands 
in  South  America,  the  ideal  raw  ma 
terial  of  noble  German  Colonies.  The 
Monroe  Doctrine  is  merely  a  pleasing 
international  thesis  unless  there  is  a  fleet 
behind  it  strong  enough  to  prove  its 
general  soundness  and  tenability.  If 
ever  Germany  feels  strong  enough  to 
deny  its  applicability  she  will  do  so.  but 
by  that  time  there  may  be  powers  other 
than  the  United  States  sufiiciently  inter- 
ested in  the  maintenance  of  the  doctrine 
to  be  prepared  to  aid  the  latter  in  pre- 
serving it  as  a  working  rule  for  this 
hemisphere.  ^ 

Germany  with  its  Emperor  has  occupied 
the  front  of  the  stage  for  some  time  now, 
and  the  Hohenlohe  disclosures  have  in- 
creased this  interested  attention.  The 
Emperor  is  charged  with  having  so  con- 
ducted his  foreign  affairs  that  the  country 
is  at  length  isolated  in  Europe.  There 
is  something,  however,  that  should  not 
be  forgotten  to  his  credit.  He  has  occu- 
pied the  throne  for  18  years  and  during 
that  time  he  has  had  at  his  hand  the  most 
complete  war  machine  that  Europe  has 
known  since  the  time  of  Napoleon.     He 


CURHFA'r    EVENTS    ABROAD 


:jj)8 


is  young,  high  spirited  and 
ambitious.  It  is  true  that 
(icrmany  has  sometimes 
I)een  regarded  as  a  menace 
l)y  her  neighbours,  but  the 
actual  fact  is  that  in  all 
these  years  not  an  ounce 
of  German  powder  has 
l)een  burned  in  anger.  Do 
not  forget  that  when  you 
are  estimating  the  Kaiser's 
position  in  Europe. 


President  i  [Roosevelt  in 
his  first  and  main  message 
to  Congress  dealt  with  the 
exclusion  of  Japanese 
children  from  the  ordinary 
schools  in  San  Francisco 
in  his  customary  frank 
manner.  "To  shut  the 
Japanese  out  from  the 
schools,"    he    says,    "is   a 

wicked     absurdity It 

is  unthinkal)le  that  we 
should  continue  a  policy 
under  which  a  given  locality 
may  be  allowed  to  commit 
a  crime  against  a  friendly 
nation,  and  the  United 
States  Government  limited, 
not  to  preventing  the  corn- 


urge  the  same  ominous 
view.  What  can  the  Presi- 
dent do  if  the  schools  are 
obstinately  kept  closed  to 
the  Japanese  children  ? 
The  use  of  force  to  compel 
their  admission  is  unthink- 
able, and  if  there  is  no 
remedy  what  will  Ja[)an 
do?  One  thing  is  certain, 
the  conqueror  of  Russia, 
with  a  great  navy  at  her 
command,  will  not  endure 
contumelious  treatment  of 
her  citizens  in  any  part 
of  the  world.  President 
Roosevelt  is  taking  a  states- 
man's   course    in     putting 

mission   of   the   crime,   but,   in    the  last      the    strongest   pressure  to   bear  on  Cali- 

resort,    to    defending    the    people    who      fomia — but  will  he  succeed? 

have    committed    it    against    the    conse-  „ 

quences  of  their  own  wrong-doing."     His 

concluding  declaration  is  not  lacking  in 

forcef ulness :    "In  the  matter  now  before 

me    affecting    the    Japanese,    everything 

that  it  is  in  my  power  to  do  will  be  done, 

and  all  of  the  forces,  military  and  civil, 

of  the  United  States  which  I  may  law- 
fully employ  will  be  so  employed." 


A    LITTLE    TOO   FAMILIAR 

Uncle  Sam:  "Between 
ourselves,  my  yellow  friend, 
couldn't  you  study  some- 
where else?" — Rire  (Paris). 


Long  ago  the  Russian  constitution  was 
described  by  a  grim  wit  as  an  autocracy 
tempered  by  assassination.  The  tem- 
pering part  of  the  constitution  is  being 
applied  very  freely  just  now.  Scarcely 
a  week  passes  without  the  assassination 
of  a  high  official,  and  a  correspondent 
says  that  newspaper  readers  in  St. 
'^  Petersburg     deem     their    daily    journals 

The  Californian  papers  do  not  appear  tame  if  they  fail  to  record  some  horrid 
to  have  been  intimidated  by  the  Presi-  outrage  or  deed  of  blood.  To  confer 
dent's  firm  attitude,  and  the  School  Board  upon  a  man  any  office  charged  with 
of  San  Francisco  authorised  the  writing  the  enforcement  of  the  laws  is  to  virtu- 
of  a  defiant  letter  which  has  produced  a  ally  sentence  him  to  death.  Where  it  is 
bad  effect  in  Japan.  The  southern  going  to  end  defies  computation.  Places 
newspapers  raised  the  cry  of  state  rights,  like  Lodz  or  Warsaw  are  in  a  state  of 
and  even  some  of  the  northern  papers  chronic  lawlessness  and  rebellion  and 
not   at   all   unfriendly  to   the    President      yet   rebellion   never   quite   arrives.     The 


394 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


Nicholas — "Hang  it  all,  that's  the  third  time  I've  missed 
that  bear!     Do  any  of  you  happen  to  have,  er — a  bomb?" 

— /"gf  "'^  (Munich) 


powerb  of  government  which  are  specially- 
designed  for  guaranteeing  the  enjoy- 
ment of  life  and  property  break  down 
when  an  attempt  is  made  to  exercise 
it  among  a  population  a  small  proportion 
of  which  is  ready  to  immolate  itself 
so  long  as  it  can  by  so  doing  destroy  those 
whom  it  hates.  That  is  the  terrible 
condition  of  Russia  and  the  end  of  its 
troubles  is  not  in  sight.  Repressive 
measures  have  not  so  far  succeeded  in 
their  object.  „ 

The  conflict  over  the  separation  of 
church  and  state  in  France  goes  on  as  an 
epoch-making  event.  It  is  probable  that 
only  the  most  intimate  acquaintance 
with  France  could  make  any  opinion  on 
the  matter  valuable.  A  perusal  of  what 
is  being  written  does  not  offer  much  light. 
The  effect  produced  by  such  violent 
measures  as  the  e.xpulsion  of  the  Papal 
delegate  from  France,  the  eviction  of 
Cardinal  Richard  from  his  palace,  the 
scenes  incident  to  the  inventory  of  church 
property,  and  the  other  acts  in  connec 
tion  with  the  enforcement  of  the  law, 
which  have  all  the  outward  appearance 


of  confiscation  and  spolia- 
tion, have  created  sympathy 
for  the  clergy  in  unex- 
pected C[uarters.  Enghsh 
newspapers,  which  are  not 
certainly  the  mouthpieces 
of  Rome,  have  entered 
their  protest  against  the 
ruthlessness  of  the  separa- 
tion law'  and  its  accompany- 
ing executive  acts. 


However  \ague  the  de- 
tails may  be  the  large  out- 
lines are  clear  enough. 
The  Republican  leaders 
of  France  have  for  years 
complained  of  clerical  hos- 
tility to  the  Republic.  It 
must  be  thought  that  public 
opinion  supports  them  in 
this  feehng  of  resentment, 
for  the  elections  of  a  few 
months  ago  turned  mainly 
on  the  question  whether  the 
campaign  against  what  has 
been  termed  clericalism 
should  be  continued,  and  the  friends  of  the 
Republic  won  an  overwhelming  victory. 
The  tendency  and  purpose  of  the  separa- 
tion law  is  to  democratise  the  church. 
The  affairs  of  each  church  building  will 
be  in  the  hands  of  a  committee  of  laymen, 
who  would  have  the  means  of  making  it 
unpleasant  for  the  incumbent  should  he  be 
suspected  of  harbouring  hostile  feeling 
towards  the  poUtical  status  quo.  It  is 
scarcely  to  be  expected  that  the  \''atican 
could  at  once  accept  a  resolution  so  un- 
welcome and  so  contrary  to  its  ideals  in 
church  government.  In  refusing  to  ac- 
cept the  legislation  or  to  accede  to  public 
opinion  the  Holy  See  has  at  least  shown 
undaunted  resolution,  for  the  difficulties 
in  its  way  seem  insuperable.  The  state- 
m.ent  is  made  that  in  almost  every  parish 
the  annual  declaration  required  by  law 
for  the  holding  of  public  meetings,  or  in 
other  words  for  the  preaching  of  the 
Gospel,  has  been  made,  although  not  by 
the  priest.  Churchmen  assert  that  the 
declaration  has  been  made  by  the  friends 
of  the  Government  who  "never  set  their 
foot  within  a  church  door."  What  is  the 
priest  to  do?     Is  he  to  go  on  mini>tering 


CURRENT    EVENTS    ABROAD 


395 


lu  hi.s  duck  thus  organised  or  obey  his 
superiors  and  abstain  from  preaching? 
He  cannot  gather  together  a  flock  else- 
where without  applying  for  leave  to  hold 
a  public  meeting.  And  then  there  is  the 
question  of  the  maintenance  of  the 
clergy  when  the  public  aid  upon  which 
they  have  hitherto  subsisted  is  withdrawn. 
The  Pope  has  promised  large  contributions 
from  his  revenues  for  this  purpose  and 
further  contributions  are  expected  from 
Great  Britain,  Austria  and  America. 
We  of  to-day  are  assuredly  the  spectators 
of  the  most  extraordinary  changes  in  the 
intellectual,  spiritual  and  political  world 
that  have  occurred  in  any  time  in  the 
histor\-  of  the  world. 


The  letters  patent  granting  responsible 
government  to  the  Transvaal  have  been 
issued  and  there  is  now  before  Parlia- 
ment a  similar  constitution  for  the  Orange 
Ri\er  Colony.  The  difference  between 
the  two  cases  is  that  in  the  Transvaal  the 
British  population  bears  .some  equality 
with     the     Boer     population.       In     the 


Orange  River  Colony  the  Boer  over- 
whelmingly predominates.  There  has 
been  some  outcry  at  virtually  handing 
over  the  government  of  the  colony  to  men 
whose  rifles  are  still  hot  from  u.se  in  an 
anti-British  war.  It  may  be  supposed 
that  Lord  Elgin  and  Mr.  Churchill,  his 
lieutenant,  feel  the  difficulties  of  the 
.situation  as  strongly  as  any  one.  But 
whatever  course  were  taken  there  would 
be  difficulties.  There  seems  no  place 
in  this  Empire  of  ours  for  a  constitution 
that  deprives  white  men  of  the  right  to 
govern  themselves.  Safeguards  have  been 
inserted  in  the  instrument  which  may  be 
supposed  to  be  efficacious  in  preventing 
the  liberty  conferred  from  being  employed 
in  subverting  the  political  allegiance  of 
the  state,  but  in  the  main  thev  bear  a 
likeness  to  similar  provisions  in  the  con- 
stitution of  Canada.  The  King  has  the 
right  of  veto,  and  the  Upper  Chamber  is 
an  appointive  one.  The  same  statements 
can  be  made  of  Canada,  so  that  the 
Transvaal  and  the  Orange  Free  State 
cannot  think  that  they  are  being  treated 
to  new-fangled   constitutional   principles. 

John  A.  Ewan 


THE    SEPAR.\TIOX    L.A.W 

French  Prefect:     "Can't  you  fellows  understand  that  it's 
liberty  we  are  giving  you?"  — Figaro  (Paris). 


Mew 


MUSICAL  PROSE  IS  PRESENT  YET 

MR.  W.  B.  YEATS,  Celtic  lyrist  and 
chief  mourner  for  the  literarj'  music 
of  a  by-gone  day^  declares  that  the  soul 
of  prose  is  dead  in  our  time  and  that 
only  the  inert  carcass  remains  in  the 
nk-wells  of  to-day.  This  he  attributes 
to  the  fact  that  the  writings  of  the 
authors  of  our  age  are  not  heard,  and 
were  never  intended  to  be.  Mr.  Yeats 
harks  back  to  the  days  of  the  minstrels 
of  old,  who  dowered  mighty  deeds  with 
immortality  in  reverberant  sagas  which 
were  intoned  to  the  accompaniment 
of  the  harp.  He  lauds  the  rustic  of  the 
time  as  one  who  drew  culture  from 
Mother  Earth  at  first  hand. 

"Everywhere  the  same  respectable, 
lifeless,  insipid  product,"  he  complains, 
in  speaking  of  the  prose  productions  of 
present-day  writers,  and  he  seeks  to  re- 
vive the  old  Celtic  sagas  and  to  reinspire 
our  written  language  with  the  rhythmic 
charm  which  he  declares  was  dominant 
in  earlier  days.  If  he  should  succeed 
in  adding  to  the  music  of  our  literary 
product  in  the  smallest  degree,  he  will 
have  accomplished  a  great  and  a  benefi- 
cent work;  but  a  search  of  even  the 
passing  literature  of  the  hour  does  not  en- 
tirely bear  out  his  contention  that  our 
prose  is  unmusical,  while  the  works  of 
those  writers  who  may  justly  expect  to 
be  remembered  a  decade  after  their 
exits  from  their  Avorkshops  absolutely 
refute  the  charge. 

As  proof  against  Mr.  Yeats'  somewhat 
pessimistic  view  of  the  field  of  present- 
day  literature,  there  stands  the  work  of 
a  Canadian.  In  the  American  metropo- 
hs  there  lives  a  man,  tall  and  eccentric 
of  appearance,  arrived  at  middle  age, 
but  whose  work  retains  all  the  joyous- 
ness  of  youth,  whi'e  always  through  his 
pages  croons  the  wizardry  of  an  ex- 
quisite  rhythm.     Bliss   Carman   is  writ- 

396 


ing  poetry  and  prose  which,  if  pure  lilt- 
ing music  is  to  be  the  standard  of  ex- 
cellence, need  fear  comparison  with  the 
products  of  the  pens  of  none  of  the  great- 
est who  have  gone  before.  His  lyrics 
are  all  melody,  which  sing  themselves 
upon  the  mental  tongue,  and  can  scarce- 
ly be  read  inaudibly,  while  one  cannot 
read  from  the  pages  of  any  of  his  col- 
lections of  essays  without  a  haunting 
suspicion  that  the  printer  has  inhumanly 
erred,  and  that  the  whole  thing  should 
have  been  set  in  verse  form. 

Nor  is  this  an  isolated  case.  The 
prose  of  Robert  Louis  Stevenson,  who 
is  too  recently  gone  to  claim  citizenship 
in  the  realm  of  the  past,  and  certainly 
not  in  the  dim  antiquity  which  Mr.  Yeats 
laments,  is  another  instance  of  singing 
prose.  It  is  just  as  impossible  to  evade 
the  slow  and  soothing  rhythm,  as  he  de- 
scribes the  snow  falling  on  the  roof  of 
the  little  house  in  the  cemetery  in  that 
artistic  morsel,  "A  Lodging  for  the 
Night."  as  it  is  to  forget  the  more  buoy- 
ant flow  of  many  other  passages  from 
his  works,  and  he  has  written  nothing 
which  is  unmusical  or  "insipid." 

Another,  recently  departed,  and  a 
friend  of  the  brave-hearted  Louis,  is 
WiUiam  Ernest  Henley,  poet  and  critic. 
His  writings,  whether  prose  or  verse, 
are  all  impossible  of  impeachment  on 
the  ground  of  absence  of  music  from 
their  construction.  His  prose  is  buoy- 
ant and  his  verse  is  veritable  song. 

Oscar  Wilde,  whatever  he  may  have 
been,  wrote  some  of  the  most  exquisite 
prose  poems  ever  penned  in  any  language. 
Indeed,  it  is  contended  by  many  ade- 
quate critics,  that  in  this  regard  he  has 
never  been  equalled. 

Writing  to-day  is  Kenneth  Grahame, 
whose  words,  while  set  in  the  conven- 
tional garb  of  prose,  bear  with  them  all 
the  magic  melody  of  verse.  His  un- 
studied studies  of  child-life  breathe  out 


ABOUT   NEW   BOOKS 


397 


the  breath  of  a  summer's  day,  while 
their  clear  vision  of  the  child-heart  shed 
the  radiance  of  sunlight  on  the  half- 
forgotten  fields  of  long  ago. 

The  names  come  fast.  It  is  not  a 
search  of  collection  but  of  selection. 
Barrie,  LeGalliene,  Roberts,  and  a  host 
of  others  all  attest  the  living  presence  of 
music  in  our  prose.  In  fact,  there  are 
but  few,  other  than  purely  scientific  or 
economic  writers,  who  have  attained 
even  a  measure  of  favour  from  readers  of 
any  culture  whose  lines  do  not,  at  least 
occasionally,  sing  themselves  into  the 
memory. 

But  there  is  some  reason  for  Mr. 
Yeats'  contention,  though  perhaps  at- 
tributable to  other  causes  than  those  to 
which  he  ascribes  the  ill.  The  great 
bulk  of  the  written  matter  of  the  present 
deals  with  financial  and  economic  ques- 
tions. With  these,  the  pages  of  the 
daily  press,  the  monthlies,  and  even  the 
fiction  of  the  hour  are  filled.  The  clear 
appreciation  of  these  writings  demands 
a  mental  rather  than  a  sentimental  at- 
titude of  approach,  and  to  the  task  of 
understanding  treatises  on  the  ills  of 
public  institutions,  or  the  constructive 
propaganda  of  this  exponent  or  that, 
one  must  bring  a  mind  unclouded  by 
the  soothing  charm  of  rhythm. 

BHss  Carman,  in  his  Kinship  of  Na- 
ture, has  said  that  the  art  of  writing 
musical  prose  partakes  of  the  hypnotic 
power  of  the  snake-charmer,  and  that 
it  is  even  achieved  through  a  description 
of  auto-hypnotism,  lulling  the  intelU- 
gence,  so  that  freer  access  may  be  had  to 
the  doors  of  the  heart.  This  must  be 
found  to  be  true  by  all  who  read  his 
wonderful  book  and  resign  themselves 
to  its  spell. 

Take  for  experiment  a  passage  from 
the  essays  of  Prof.  Goldwin  Smith,  one 
of  the  greatest  of  Hving  stylists.  Having 
perused  this,  you  know  that  you  have 
read  a  piece  of  immaculate  prose,  a 
clear  and  incisive  enunciation  of  a  men- 
tal process.  But  turn  to  Mr.  Carman's 
essays  on  Nature,  and  you  have  walked 
in  a  spring  wood  or  watched  the  autumn 
leaves  falling  through  a  golden  glory. 
In  the  one  case  you  have  read  a  book; 
in   the   other  you  have   enjoyed   an   ex- 


perience. It  is  the  difiference  between 
head  and  heart  appreciation. 

Alusic  has  not  fled.  It  is  only  that 
the  literature  of  the  world  has  become 
so  much  more  prolific  that  the  everyday 
matters  which,  in  the  earlier  times, 
were  confined  to  the  converse  of  men 
in  the  market  place  and  upon  the  high- 
way have  now  found  their  way  into  the 
world  of  print.  Of  old,  the  learned  few 
wielded  the  pen  for  the  few  learned 
enough  to  read  their  works.  The  min- 
strels were  men,  aloof  from  the  battle 
of  life,  who  sat  by  the  wayside  dream- 
ing or  singing  the  gallant  deeds  of  their 
more  active  fellows. 

To-day  this  body  has  increased  in 
numbers,  and  has  been  swelled  by  the 
entrance  of  men  of  action  who  speak 
through  the  printed  page  with  impas- 
sioned pen  to  larger  hearings  than  they 
could  have  reached  in  many  lifetimes  of 
the  old  exhortations.  Again,  the  gov- 
ernment of  the  people  by  the  people  re- 
quires a  great  share  of  the  space  of  the 
press  which  alone  has  made  it  possible. 
The  great  task  of  teaching  the  unlearned 
the  very  rudiments  of  education  falls 
largely  to  that  medium.  In  the  old 
days  the  king  governed,  and  secured 
the  necessary  knowledge  of  his  realm 
by  private  report.  To-day  the  people 
rule,  and  without  the  spread  of  knowl- 
edge of  the  great  questions  of  public  in- 
terest through  the  various  branches  of 
the  press,  the  power  of  representative 
government  would  be  as  empty  a  right 
as  it  would  have  been  in  the  days  when 
the  common  people  gleaned  their  knowl- 
edge of  such  matters  as  were  not  purely 
local  from  the  alehouse  gossip  of  passing 
travellers. 

As  to  the  cultured  rustic  of  old  time, 
I  venture  to  say  that  the  farmer  of  to- 
day, engrossed  in  the  question  of  crops, 
as  he  doubtless  is,  absorbs  quite  as  much 
appreciation  from  the  soil  he  tills  with 
the  most  modem  of  appliances  as  did 
his  plodding  prototype  as  he  laboriously 
pressed  his  rude  ploughshare  along  the 
uneven  furrows  of  his  meagre  plot. 

Mr.  Yeats  declares  that  no  man  may 
attain  to  a  high  order  of  culture  and 
leave  himself  suflacient  time  to  make  a 
material  success  of  his  life.     The  most 


398 


THE    CANADLAJN'    MAGAZINE 


cultured  of  the  successful  in  material 
things  rnay,  he  says,  be  put  to  shame  by 
the  "ragged  art  student  who  occasionally 
calls  to  borrow  a  sovereign."  It  is  also 
true  that  any  cobbler  may  put  him  to 
the  blush  for  his  lack  of  knowledge  of 
boots.  But  the  culture  of  the  art  stu- 
dent is  like  the  craft  of  the  cobbler,  the 
knowledge  required  for  production.  It 
is  necessary  that  the  world  should  have 
artists  and  cobblers  that  the  world  may 
have  pictures  and  boots.  It  is  likely 
that  the  art  student  would  not  have 
found  it  necessary  to  "caU"  had  he 
mixed  with  his  special  knowledge  as 
much  of  the  financier's  acumen  as  that 
gentleman  has  managed  to  acquire  of 
his  cultured  taste. 

The  jesters  of  the  early  courts  were 
also  perhaps  the  most  cultured  men  in 
them  save  for  a  few  hoary  sages  whose 
chief  merchantable  wares  were  gloomy 
prophecies.  This  culture  of  to-day, 
which  Mr.  Yeats  thinks  so  inadequate, 
is  not  the  culture  of  an  individual  nor  of 
a  lifetime.  It  is  the  accumulated  cul- 
ture of  ages.  The  ancestors  of  the  men 
of  whom  he  speaks  were  probably  reck- 
oning with  notches  on  sticks  when  the 
sagas  which  he  laments  were  composed. 
Further,  it  must  be  remembered  that 
those  sagas  were  written  in  the  days  of 
gallant  deeds,  the  "Days  of  Chivalry," 
and  any  newspaper  reporter  will  tell  you 
that  the  big  "story"  tells  itself.  It  is 
the  "items"  that  tax  his  vocabulary. 

Mr.  Yeats  is  \\Tong  when  he  says  that 
the  wear}-  have  not  the  energy  for  any 
but  meretricious  books.  Granted  a  man 
of  some  taste,  the  greater  the  rh}'thm  of 
the  prose  the  easier  will  be  the  reading, 
while  poetn,^  wiU  be  found  the  easiest 
and  most  restful  of  all.  There  is  a  wider 
spread  of  culture  in  the  world  to-day 
than  there  has  ever  been.  The  average 
abihty  to  appreciate  hterature  is  vastly 
higher  than  in  earlier  days.  We  are 
still  progressing,  and  the  prose  of  pres- 
ent-day writers  which  is  not  unmusical 
or  "insipid"  is  doing  the  lion's  share 
of  the  work. 

Nevertheless,  good  luck  to  Mr.  Yeats 
in  his  mission.  His  ■view  may  be  a 
trifle  gloomy,  but  no  great  work  was 
ever    done    bv   an    absolutelv    contented 


man,  and  if  he  can  add  one  note  to  the 
music  of  our  prose,  the  world  will  be 
his  debtor.  j^mes  P.  Haverson 

THE    HOHENLOHE    MEMOIRS 

SELDOM  has  the  pubhcation  of  polit- 
ical observations  and  experiences 
caused  greater  or  more  widespread  in- 
terest than  has  the  appearance  of  the 
memoirs  of  Prince  Chlodwig  of  Hohen- 
lohe-Schillingsfuerst  (Toronto:  The  Mac- 
millan  Company  of  Canada),  who  died 
about  six  years  ago.  The  memoirs  have 
been  before  the  public  for  some  time, 
but  the  Enghsh  translation  was  later  to 
appear.  The  mere  fact  that  the  Ger- 
man Emperor  was  much  annoyed  be- 
cause of  the  pubhcation  of  these  manu- 
scripts, sufficiently  attests  their  import- 
ance and  significance.  In  them  is  re- 
vealed a  great  deal  of  the  intrigue  and 
narrowness  that  is  characteristic  of  many 
of  those  who  get  close  to  the  Crown. 
Prince  Hohenlohe,  during  his  Hfetime,  had 
a  rare  opportunity  to  observe  the  influ- 
ences that  sway  the  destinies  of  nations, 
and  posterity  will  thank  him  for  having 
the  courage  to  order,  contran,-  to  a  severe 
custom  and  rigid  etiquette,  the  publi- 
cation after  his  death  of  many  things  of 
importance  that  he  saw  and  heard.  One 
cannot  help  wondering  what  prompted 
him  to  do  that,  but  Httle  importance,  after 
all,  attaches  to  the  motive,  if  it  was  a 
good  motive.  The  revelations  of  most 
interest  outside  the  German  Empire  are 
those  that  show  the  dire  influences  that 
made  for  the  promotion  of  war,  and  that 
imperilled  international  peace  and  good- 
will. Bismarck  is  not  pictured  as  the 
great  statesman  we  have  supposed  him 
to  have  been,  but  he  is  set  up  rather  as 
a  crafty,  vmsparing,  astute  diplomat,  with 
the  military  tendency  highly  developed. 
When  we  come  face  to  face  with  condi- 
tions such  as  are  revealed  in  these  me- 
moirs, we  cannot  help  shuddering  at  the 
stupendous  consequences  (perhaps  nearer 
to  us  than  we  imagine)  that  constantly 
wait  the  world  over  on  the  whims  and 
caprices  of  indi\nduals.  To  be  a  king  or 
an  emperor  or  a  prime  minister  is  a 
thing  of  importance  in  times  of  peace, 
and  of  supreme  importance  in  'imes  of 


ABOUT   NEW    BOOKS 


399 


war.  Surely  ihe  day  is  nut  far  distaiil 
when  no  individual  in  order  to  further 
sectional,  family  or  personal  ambitions, 
shall  be  able  to  cause  the  clashing  of 
nations.  If  the  Hohenlohe  memoirs  do 
nothing  more  than  to  arouse  men  in 
power  to  the  .sacredness  of  their  trust, 
they  will  serve  an  excellent  purpose. 

THE  HUMOUR  OF  LOVE 

TWO  more  delightful  volumes  could 
.scarcely  be  conceived  than  the  ones 
entitled  "The  Humour  of  Love,"  by  Tom 
Masson  (New  York:  Moffat,  Yard  & 
Company).  One  volume  is  a  .selection  of 
humorous  writings  on  love  in  verse, 
while  the  other  covers  the  same  ground  in 
prose.  Most  persons  have  been  accus- 
tomed to  read  of  love  as  an  all-consuming 
quantity,  as  something  that  must  not 
be  considered  in  any  but  a  serious  mood. 
Mr.  Masson  is  not  one  of  that  kind,  and 
his  own  verse  has  an  excellent  reputation 
as  an  antidote  of  the  customary  overdone 
morsel.  He  is  editor  of  Lije,  and  there- 
fore has  had  an  excellent  opportunity 
to  observe  the  style  of  verse  and  prose 
of  which  his  two  volumes  deal.  The 
selections  in  prose  run  from  Thackeray 
to  Peter  Dunne  ("Mr.  Dooley")  and 
most  of  the  favourite  humorists  are 
represented,  such  as  Artemus  Ward,  Josh 
Billings,  and  E.  W.  Townsend.  The 
verse  runs  from  Shakespeare  to  Wallace 
Irwin  and  Tom  Masson,  and  includes 
Byron,  Lover,  Cowper,  Ben  Jonson, 
Bret  Harte,  Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich, 
James  Russel  Lowell  and  Clinton  Scollafd. 
Here  is  a  sample  bv  John  Bovle 
O'Reilly: 

"You  gave  me  the  key  of  your  heart,  my  love ; 

Then  why  do  you  make  me  knock?" 
"Oh,  that  was  yesterday,  Saints  above  ! 

And  last  night — I  changed  the  lock!" 

THE   ANCIENT   GLORY    OF    IRELAND 

FEW  countries  afford  a  more  attract- 
ive field  for  the  lover  of  picturesque 
historical  associations  than  does  Ireland, 
the  land  of  Brian  and  Cormac  and  St. 
Patrick  and  the  valley  of  the  Boyne. 
Most  persons  who  attempt  to  deal  with 


it  historically  fall  into  sectarian  discus- 
sion or  unhappy  abuse,  and  thus  the 
higher  purpose  of  historical  writing  is 
sacrificed.  One  of  the  most  pleasing 
books  on  ancient  Irish  legend  and  the 
more  reliable  traces  of  early  Irish  history, 
appeared  recently  under  the  title  "The 
Fair  Hills  of  Ireland"  (Toronto:  The 
Macmillan  Company  of  Canada).  It 
is  written  b}'  Stephen  Gwynn  and  illus- 
trated by  Hugh  Thomson.  There  are 
four  coloured  plates,  all  done  in  excel- 
lent taste,  and  thirty-one  other  illustra- 
tions. The  frontispiece  is  a  character 
sketch,  "The  Shanachie,"  done  in  col- 
ours. While  the  work  is  of  much  greater 
dignity  than  a  guide-book,  it  will  be 
found  of  invaluable  service  to  those  trav- 
ellers who  are  not  mere  "birds  of  pas- 
sage," but  who  wish  to  glean  informa- 
tion from  actual  observation,  and  to 
carry  lasting  impressions  of  value.  Be- 
ginning at  the  Bovne  the  book  describes 
the  evidences  that  still  remain  of  the  early 
occupants  of  the  Emerald  Isle,  and  the 
descriptions  embody  in  an  entertaining 
way  the  history  of  the  country  as  it  is 
given  in  some  particular  mound  or  ruin 
or  tomb  or  hillside.  It  is  a  book  that 
will  appeal  to  Irishmen  in  particular, 
and  to  travellers  and  lovers  of  antiquity 
in  general. 

[S3 

NOTES 

"Three  Boys  and  a  Girl,"  by  Anne 
Helena  Woodruff  (Cincinnati:  Jennings 
and  Graliam),  is  a  thoroughly  wholesome 
and  natural  story  for  either  boys  or  girls, 
and  is  intended  to  inspire  a  love  of  useful 
amusements  and  undertakings.  The  book 
is  well  illustrated. 

.'\dmirers  of  Jack  T>ondon's  writings 
find  it  almost  impossible  to  keep  up  with 
his  proHfic  pen.  One  of  his  latest  pro- 
ductions is  "Scorn  of  Women,"  a  play 
in  three  acts,  published  in  a  chaste,  ar- 
tistic volume  by  the  Macmillan  Com- 
pany of  Canada.  The  scene  of  the  play 
is  Dawson  City,  and  the  time  1897.  The 
action  is  complete  in  thirteen  hours.  As 
the  piece  is  so  replete  with  "business," 
it  is  difficult  to  judge  its  merits  off  the 
stage. 


\^T^AN 


3PHtRL 


THE  WINTER  LAKES 

/~\UT  in  a  world  of  death,  far  to  the  north- 

^^  ward  lying, 

Under  the  sun  and  the  moon,  under  the  dusk 

and  the  day; 
Under  the  glimmer  of  stars  and  the  purple 

of  sunsets  dying, 
Wan  and  waste  and  white,  stretch  the  great 

lakes  away. 

Moons  that  gUmmer  above,  waters  that  lie 
white  under, 

Miles  and  miles  of  lake  far  out  under  the 
night ; 

Foaming  crests  of  waves,   surfs  that   shore- 
ward thunder, 

Shadowy    shapes    that    flee,    haunting    the 
spaces  white. 

Wilfred  Campbell 

THE  WOMEN'S  INSTITUTE 

DURING  the  last  few  years  there  has 
been  a  steady  growth  of  an  associa- 
tion whose  influence  extends  through- 
out the  homes  of  Ontario.  Canada  is 
a  country  of  few  cities  and  of  many 
farms.  That  such  may  long  be  its  con- 
dition is  the  wish  of  most  patriotic  citi- 
zens. Therefore,  any  change  that  affects 
the  life  of  the  farm  means  a  change  to 
the  whole  nation.  For  a  long  time,  the 
Farmers'  Institutes  have  meant  much 
to  the  men  engaged  in  agricultural  pur- 
suits. But  of  recent  years  the  move- 
ment has  extended  to  the  wives  and 
daughters,  with  a  result  which  is  simply 
amazing.  Now,  the  Ontario  Women's 
Institute  includes  a  membership  of  ten 
thousand,  doing  a  work  the  value  of 
which  cannot  be  overestimated. 

It  was  all  very  well  for  Dr.  Watts  and 
other  men  to  preach  to  women  about  the 
beauty  of  sweeping  floors  and  w^ashing 
dishes.  There  is  a  point  where  the 
drudgery  of  such  toil  becomes  unbear- 
able, and  the  modem  woman  is  not  go- 

400 


ing  to  become  a  drudge  if  she  can  help 
it.  Hence  it  oecame  necessary  to  dis- 
cover something  in  household  science 
that  would  show  the  reason  and  the 
method  in  all  keeping  of  the  home 
which  would  raise  it  above  the  unmean- 
ing toil  it  too  often  becomes.  Women 
of  superior  intelligence  found  that  there 
is  no  more  important  sphere  for  the 
latest  scientific  effort  than  may  be  dis- 
covered within  the  walls  of  the  farm 
home.  '"The  man  with  the  hoe,"  ac- 
cording to  Millet's  brutal  figure,  is  sel- 
dom seen  in  Canada;  but  the  woman 
over  the  washtub  was  a  picture  not  much 
happier. 

It  has  dawned  upon  the  world  of 
womankind  that  the  operations  of  the 
kitchen,  the  latmdry  and  the  garden 
need  not  be  drudgery^,  but  may  be,  when 
carried  out  after  the  most  approved 
methods,  productive  of  that  real  satis- 
faction which  comes  from  effective  work 
carried  out  in  the  spirit  of  intelligence 
and  progress. 

The  Ontario  Women's  Institute  is  in 
s\Tnpathy  with  this  practical  movement, 
especially  as  it  relates  to  rural  life. 
Throughout  the  year,  wherever  there  is 
a  branch  of  this  organisation,  meetings 
are  held  where  subjects  of  domestic  in- 
terest are  discussed,  and  suggestions  of 
the  widest  scope  are  received  and  re- 
viewed. The  report  for  1905  shows  the 
great  variety  of  subjects  under  consid- 
eration, including  First  Aid  to  Injured, 
Courtesy  in  the  Home,  Economy  in  Small 
Things,  Poultry  Raising,  Nature  Study 
and  Home  Nursing. 

But  in  order  to  understand  the  Wo- 
men's Institute,  you  must  visit  (as  I  did 
last  December)  the  annual  meeting,  and 
see  and  hear  for  yourself  just   what  is 


WOMAN'S   SPHERE 


401 


SNOWSHOB   GIRLS    OF    MACDONALD    HALL 


being  done.  The  meeting  takes  place 
appropriately  in  the  Massey  Hall,  On- 
tario Agricultural  College,  Guelph,  where 
on  December  12th,  1906,  hundreds  of 
women  gathered  from  all  over  our  wide- 
scattered  Province.  Mr.  George  A.  Put- 
nam, Superintendent,  reviewed  the  year's 
work  in  a  fashion  that  showed  the  grow- 
ing enthusiasm  in  the  association,  and 
Miss  Agnes  Smith,  of  Hamilton;  Miss 
Isobel  Rife,  Miss  M.  U.  Watson,  and 
Mrs.  Helen  Wells  contributed  to  the 
day's  programme  of  "lecturettes."  Dr. 
Hodgetts,  of  Toronto,  spoke  on  the 
"Prevention  and  Cure  of  Tuberculosis," 
a  subject  that  is  of  the  utmost  import- 
ance wherever  the  white  plague  exists. 

But  the  greatest  interest  of  the  con- 
vention was  shown  in  Miss  Watson's  ad- 
dress on  "Labour-Saving  Devices  for 
the  Housewife,"  which  was  accompanied 
by  practical  demonstrations  in  connec- 
tion with  certain  articles  of  domestic 
use.  Miss  Watson  is  at  the  head  of  the 
Macdonald  Institute,  and  is  a  most  cap- 
able chief  officer  for  one  of  the  finest  in- 
stitutions in  Canada. 

On  the  second  morning  of  the  conven- 


tion, Professor  H.  H.  Dean  spoke  on  the 
production  of  milk.  Miss  L.  Shuttle- 
worth  on  its  care  and  handling,  Dr. 
Helen  MacMurchy  from  a  doctor's 
point  of  \'iew.  If  you  wish  to  know  the 
difference  between  milk  that  is  milk  and 
that  which  is  a  mere  apology  therefor, 
drink  a  glass  of  Ontario  College  milk, 
and  then  come  home  to  the  city  pro- 
duct. The  disease  that  lurks  in  fiJthy 
milk  has  been  heard  of  many  times,  but 
Dr.  MacMurchy  made  it  exceedingly 
clear  that  modem  dairy  conditions  are 
not  at  all  what  they  should  be,  and  that 
it  is  woman's  duty  to  see  that  they  are 
improved. 

The  afternoon  was  devoted  to  a  paper 
by  Dr.  Webster  on  the  care  of  the  mouth 
and  teeth,  and  an  address  by  Professor 
Evans  on  colour  in  the  household.  Then 
there  was  an  opportunity  given  to  the 
delegates  to  \isit  all  departments  of  the 
College,  which  in  itself  is  an  inspiration 
to  those  who  want  to  do  things. 

There  is  an  absurd  antagonism  mani- 
fested by  some  "advanced"  women  to- 
wards the  other  half  of  humanity,  as  if 
any    really    intelligent    man    were    going 


402 


THE   CANADIAN   IVIAGAZINE 


to  oppose  the  true  progress  of  women. 
Such  is  not  the  case  in  Canada.  Cana- 
dian women,  in  their  various  undertak- 
ings, can  usually  rely  on  mascuhne  sup- 
port, from  Sir  Wilfrid  Laurier  to  the 
reeve  of  the  township.  There  is  no 
more  enthusiastic  believer  in  the  Wo- 
men's Institute  than  President  Creelman 
or  Mr.  C.  C.  James.  The  latter  gave 
a  sympathetic  address,  which  was  a 
happy  combination  of  culture  and  agri- 
culture. 

Best  of  all  features  of  this  conven- 
tion is  the  atmosphere  of  optimism  and 
good-wiU.  You  can  fairly  hear  and  see 
the  country  growing  and  prospering  as 
you  Usten  to  the  speakers  and  watch  the 
eager  faces  of  the  audience.  As  Mrs. 
Brews  said,  referring  to  Ella  Wilcox's 
classification  of  people  into  those  who 
lift  and  those  who  lean — "we  want  more 
lifters  and  fewer  leaners." 

If  you  ask,  What  has  been  done  by 
the  institute? — the  answer  must  take 
varied  aspects.  It  has  gathered  thou- 
sands of  women  together  who  have  learned 
from  the  best  modem  lecturers  of  the 
laws  of  health  and  home-keeping.  It 
has  created  a  sympathy  such  as  has  never 
existed  before  among  the  home-makers 
of  the  Province.  It  has  broadened  and 
therefore  brightened  the  lives  of  a  host 
of  women  who  have  found  a  new  interest 
in  the  interchange  of  domestic  ideas. 
Every  good  comes  from  an  idea — whether 
it  be  planted  in  the  brown  earth,  put 
in  a  drain,  baked  in  the  oven,  or  hung 
upon  the  wall.  Therefore,  to  the  On- 
tario Women's  Institute  there  is  warm 
congratulation  on  what  has  already  been 
accomplished  and  every  good  wish  for 
future  development. 

ARE  WOMEN  UNBUSINESSLIKE 

A  WOMAN  possessing  or  assuming 
the  charming  name  of  "Maud  L'Es- 
trange"  has  written  with  some  indigna- 
tion to  an  English  magazine  protesting 
against  the  recent  charge  that  women 
conduct  their  business  meetings  with 
scant  regard  for  parliamentary  rules,  and 
are  guilty  of  knowing  practically  nothing 
about  business  methods. 

Miss  L'Estrange  points  out  that  it  is 


really  the  so-called  "smart  set"  against 
which  this  charge  is  made,  and  that  a 
Charity  Bazaar  or  a  Hospital  Ball  can 
hardly  come  under  the  head  of  business. 
She  forcibly  concludes  with  the  state- 
ment: 

"There  is  a  very  large,  a  very  consid- 
erable body  of  women  workers  who  do 
use  their  fullest  capacities  in  the  further- 
ance of  pubKc  work,  such  as  Mrs.  Scar- 
heb,  Mrs.  Fawcett,  Mrs.  Creighton,  Miss 
Frances  Low,  Miss  Cobden,  and  others 
with  brilliant  records,  who  have  helped 
forward  the  great  movements  of  modem 
times  towards  the  emancipation  of  wo- 
men and  the  betterment  of  the  condition 
of  humanity,  whose  names  will  shine 
out  on  the  rolls  of  fame  long  after  the 
'Smart  Set,'  with  their  extravagances 
and  follies,  have  been  forgotten  for  all 
time."  ^ 

PICTORIAL  OR  CREATIVE 

WE  British  are  sometimes  told  weird 
things  by  our  friends  in  the  United 
States.  Some  one  actually  wrote  an 
article  of  about  four  thousand  words  to 
the  effect  that  Dickens  did  not  know 
anything  about  the  celebration  of  Christ- 
mas until  his  famous  visit  to  Uncle  Sam's 
country,  and  that  all  his  tender,  immortal 
Yuletide  tales  are  founded  on  his  ex- 
periences on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic.  A 
New  York  editor  accepted  and  pub- 
lished this  extremely  amusing  bit  of 
fiction.  Washington  Irving  might  have 
told  the  writer  better. 

A  woman,  writing  some  months  ago- 
for  the  New  England  Magazine  on  the 
creative  element  in  works  of  fiction, 
made  this  somewhat  astounding  state- 
ment regarding  Sir  Walter  Scott:  "But 
did  the  wizard  create ?  Never!  He  wove 
the  finest  stories  known.  He  threw  his 
soul  into  the  making  of  his  tales,  instead 
of  making  his  men  and  women." 

O  rare  Sir  Walter!  We  pity  the 
reader  who  has  found  merely  the 
story  and  has  failed  to  know  the  Dom- 
inie, Friar  John,  Caleb  Balderstone, 
Flora  Mclvor  and,  above  all,  Jeanie 
Deans,  who  is  one  of  the  noblest  figures 
that  haunt  the  galleries  of  imagination. 
In  fact,  such  a  crowd  of  old  friends 
come  at  the  very  mention  of  Sir  Walter's 


WOMAN'S   SPHERE 


403 


name  that   we  are   embarrassed  by   the 
riches  of  their  memory. 

t>?<i 
LUXURY  OR  COMFORT 

MRS.  ALEX.  TWEEDIE  is  an  Eng- 
hsh  woman  with  a  decided  fondness 
for  travel  and  with  an  ability  to  discourse 
vivaciously  on  the  people  she  has  met 
and  the  conditions  she  has  observed. 
She  approves  highly  of  the  attention  be- 
stowed upon  women  in  this  western 
world,  finding  the  United  States  wo- 
men exceedingly  attractive,  but  the  men 
of  the  country  rather  dull  and  absorbed 
in  business.  She  is  of  the  opinion  that 
there  is  "any  amount  of  luxury  in  the 
States,  but  little  real  comfort.  It  is  a 
life  of  foie  gras  and  champagne,  ill- 
swept  rooms  and  dirty  harness.  Things 
are  done  on  a  magnificent  scale,  gor- 
geous dinner  parties  and  lunches  with 
every  possible  luxury  are  common ;  the 
people  dress  superbly,  and  yet  little  com- 
forts are  often  missing;  the  joy  of  clean 
boots  is  a  luxury;  there  are  few  libraries 
to  which  one  can  subscribe  and  see  all 
the  latest-  books  for  a  small  sum;  news- 
papers are  more  filled  with  horrors  than 
news;  and  the  pretty  flowers  one  is  ac- 
customed to  in  EngHsh  homes  are  sel- 
dom found,  in  the  first  place  because 
they  are  so  expensive  that  they  can  only 
be  enjoyed  on  occasions,  and  secondly 
because  the  housewife  has  so  many  more 
important  duties  to  fulfil  that  she  cannot 
spend  her  time  in  watering  and  arrang- 
ing flowers.  Even  afternoon  tea  is  still 
a  luxury."  ^^ 

THE  BORROWER  OF  TROUBLE 

WHO  does  not  know  her — the  wo- 
man who  borrows  such  a  deal  of 
trouble  that  she  is  in  eternal  debt,  and 
keeps  those  about  her  in  the  eternal  tor- 
ment? In  the  days  of  our  grandmamma 
she  took  hysterics,  but  in  these  days  she 
has  "nerves"  which  are  always  getting 
tied  up  on  the  slightest  provocation, 
until  their  ovraer  betakes  herself  to  a 
rest-cure  and  her  friends  get  a  chance 
to  have  a  little  of  the  same. 

The  borrower  of  trouble  seems  to  con- 
sider herself  an  unselfish  character,  but 


she  is  really  a  source  of  unpleasantness 
and  sometimes  of  actual  distress.  Worry 
spreads  as  easily  as  the  measles,  and, 
alas!  there  is  no  isolation  hospital  in 
which  the  worrier  may  be  kept.  She 
worries  about  the  coffee  getting  cold  and 
about  her  husband  not  wearing  a  heavy 
overcoat,  and  about  the  probability  of 
the  cook  becoming  the  wife  of  the  butch- 
er's assistant  and  deserting  the  scene  of 
her  present  activities.  The  bom  bor- 
rower of  trouble  can  find  nothing  too 
insignificant  to  be  worried  about. 

The  over-anxious  parent  is  a  familiar 
object,  shrieking  at  Tommie  lest  he  fall 
from  the  tree  and  break  his  precioiis 
neck,  urging  upon  Dorothy  the  desir- 
ability of  rubbers,  Then  there  is  the 
spinster  borrower  of  woe,  who  is  sure 
that  her  darhng  "tabby"  is  going  to 
take  a  fit  and  that  the  coal  merchant  is 
not  giving  her  the  proper  weight  of  the 
necessary  fuel.  Who  cares?  No  one 
is  going  to  take  your  small  worries  or 
mine  I  to  heart,  but  everyone  will  vote 
us  bores  if  we  keep  on  crossing  these 
bridges  to  which  we  seldom  come.  The 
art  of  living  is  to  conceal  your  woes,  real 
and  imaginary.  "Grin  and  bear  it"  is 
a  good  if  prosaic  bit  of  advice,  and  if 
you  cannot  grin  you  can  at  least  put  up 
with  the  present.  The  curious  fact  is, 
that  the  people  who  have  real  troubles 
face  the  world  with  serene  aspect,  and 
those  who  are  everlastingly  fretting  have 
small  cause  for  complaint — which  is 
more  than  mav  be  said  for  their  friends. 


WOOD-CARVING  FOR  WOMEN 

THERE  is  a  department  of  manual 
training  for  women  which  has  lately 
come  in  for  a  large  share  of  over-due 
attention.  In  most  cities  and  towns  of 
Canada  there  are  now  classes  in  this 
useful  and  ennobling  art.  The  cheap 
atrocities  of  poor  fiuniture  are  gradually 
being  replaced  by  better  workmanship. 
Women  are  learning  that  plush  bags 
and  a  multitude  of  "drapes"  are  not 
necessarj^  to  an  attractive  interior,  and 
they  are  also  going  back  to  the  ideab 
of  our  great-grandparents  in  the  matter 
of  home  furnishings. 

Jean  Graham 


A  New  Canadian  Poet 


By  W.  T.  ALLISON 


appreciation  of  the  qualities  that  have  given  Miss  Coleman 
a  leading  place  among  our  native  singers 


N  the  days  of  Keats  and 
Wordsworth,  yes,  even  in 
the  age  of  Tennyson  and 
BrowTiing,  a  new  poet,  no 
matter  how  worthy,  was 
never  sure  of  a  warm  reception  when 
first  he  made  his  bow  to  the  reviewers. 
We  order  things  differently  in  the  twen- 
tieth ci^ntury.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  both 
in  England  and  in  America  a  new  poet 
of  originality  and  power,  a  singer  with  a 


MISS   HELENA   COLEMAN,    AUTHOR    OF       S( 
AND    sonnets" 
Special  Photograph  by  Herbert  E.  Simpson 

404 


real  message,  will  meet  not  only  with 
kindness  at  the  hands  of  the  reviewers, 
but  with  quite  an  enthusiastic  welcome. 
A  fresh  voice  has  been  heard  of  late  in 
our  own  Canada,  and  merit  has  been 
instantly  recognised.  A  book  of  poems 
with  the  very  plain  title,  "  Songs  and  Son- 
nets," was  published  by  William  Briggs 
at  the  Christmas  season  just  overpast, 
and  has  already  been  crowned  by  lead- 
ing literary  critics  of  this  country  as  a 
most  valuable  contribution  to 
Canadian  literature  by  a  new 
writer.  We  really  owe  the 
appearance  of  this  attractive 
and  much-discussed  volume 
to  the  leading  spirits  of  the 
Tennyson  Club  of  Toronto, 
who  prevailed  upon  one  of 
their  number,  Miss  Helena 
Coleman,  to  allow  her  poems 
to  be  published  under  the 
auspices  of  the  club.  The 
members  of  this  Toronto  b"t- 
erary  circle  have  done  well; 
they  have  cause  to  rejoice 
over  the  fact  that  the  Queen 
City  possesses  a  poet  who  can 
rival  even  the  Ottawa  singers 
in  style  and  strength  of 
thought. 

Although  Miss  Coleman, 
the  new  poet,  is  an  entire 
stranger  to  the  writer  of  this 
article,  and  is  averse  to  any 
personal  introduction  to  the 
reading  pubUc,  there  are  two 
or  three  facts  which  may  give 
the  readers  of  The  C.ajjadi.\n 
Magazine  some  idea  as  to 
her  identity. 

]Miss  Helena  Coleman  is 
the  only  sister  of  Professor 
Coleman,  the  well-known 
geologist,  with  whom  she  has 


A   NEW   CANADIAN   POET 


405 


lived  in  Toronto  for  some  years.  Although 
in  one  sense  somewhat  of  a  recluse,  owing 
to  the  result  of  an  illness  in  early  life, 
Miss  Coleman  has  been  a  great  traveller. 
At  various  times  she  has  made  more  or 
less  protracted  visits  to  Europe,  the  West 
Indies  and  the  Southern  States.  Her 
poems  indicate  that  she  has  viewed  life 
in  its  many  aspects  both  at  home  and 
abroad.  Most  frequent  references,  how- 
ever, are  made  to  Canadian  scenes.  Miss 
Cokman  knows  her  own  land  well;  she 
has  camped  in  the  Rocky  Mountains 
and  is  a  lover  of  the  stem  grandeurs  of 
that  Alpine  region,  but  knows  better  the 
serene  beauties  of  the  Thousand  Islands 
and  the  St.  Lawrence.  She  usually 
spends  some  months  of  the  year  at  her 
summer  home,  "Pinehurst,"  one  of  the 
Thousand  Islands. 

Although  jMiss  Coleman  has  been  writ- 
ing poetry  for  many  years,  she  has  never 
yielded  to  the  poetic  impulse  from  am- 
bition or  from  any  desire  to  figure  prom- 
inently in  the  domain  of  letters.  During 
the  last  few  years  she  has  been  contrib- 
uting occasional  prose  to  the  "Atlantic 
Monthly, "  and  verse  as  well  as  prose  to 
many  American  magazines,  but  each  and 
every  piece  of  work  has  been  published 
over  a  nom  de  plume.  We  understand 
that  the  publishers  of  her  present  volume 
had  very  great  difficulty  in  persuading 
her  to  allow  her  name  to  appear.  Miss 
Coleman  in\'ites  criticism  and  shrinks 
from  praise.  Poets  or  artists  of  this  dis- 
position are  very  rare  and,  when  they 
are  discovered,  the  critic,  however  an- 
xious he  may  be  to  expose  defects,  finds, 
as  in  the  present  instance,  that  there  is 
scarce  opportunity  to  do  anything  but 
applaud.  Having  given  these  sparing 
touches  of  a  personal  kind,  let  us  ex- 
amine the  style  and  subject-matter  of 
these  poems  introduced  to  us  by  the 
Tennyson  Club 

"So  far  as  criticism  goes,"  says  a  re- 
cent writer,  "it  is  the  technical  side  of 
verse  which  needs  most  to  be  studied."* 
A  poet  stands  or  falls  according  to  the 
construction  and  cadence  of  the  verse. 
Very  rich  ideas  may  be  ruined  by  re- 
dvmdancy  of  words  in  expressing  them; 


*C.   F.    Keary,   Fortnightly  Review.    Nov., 
906 


a  large  and  ordered  beauty  of  imagina- 
tion may  fail  in  eflfect  because  of  a  lack 
of  a  stately  measure;  in  any  body  of 
verse  if  the  rhymed  words  and  the  stressed 
words  are  frequently  insignificant,  the 
rhymer  may  be  dismissed  with  scant 
ceremony  as  no  poet.  Redundancy, 
harshness  and  poverty  are  the  infallible 
marks  of  the  poetaster.  The  latter 
weakness  has  to  do  with  a  writer's  con- 
tent of  thought,  but  the  former  evils  are 
essentially  faults  of  style.  The  poet's 
claim  to  fame,  then,  depends  very  large- 
ly on  his  or  her  mastery  of  outward 
form  or  technique,  on  skill  in  phrasing, 
in  emphasis  and  in  sonority  of  verse. 

Measured  by  such  canons  of  taste,  we 
have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  Miss 
Coleman's  style  singles  her  out  at  once 
from  the  great  crowd  of  latter-day  lamp- 
poetry  magazine  versifiers.  Her  com- 
mand of  rhythm  is  very  pleasing,  and 
because  of  her  love  of  Latinised  English 
reaches  a  certain  degree  of  opulence 
which  cannot  fail  to  give  any  lover  of 
cadence  great  deKght.  Yet  in  spite 
of  her  love  for  colour  and  sonority 
our  new  poet  is  at  all  times  eminently 
clear.  Her  ease  and  precision  of  phrase 
enable  her  to  avoid  that  sin  of  redundancy 
which  more  than  anything  makes  for 
obscurity.  Miss  Coleman  is  such  a  lover 
of  the  concrete,  that  even  when  dealing 
with  abstract  subjects  the  reader  finds 
no  difficulty  in  taking  her  meaning. 
With  regard  to  her  choice  of  subjects, 
she  is  a  disciple  of  Browning,  but  she  is 
entirely  free  from  Browningesque  hard- 
ness and  diffuseness  of  style.  Her  titles 
are  too  often  uninviting  and  abstract,  but 
her  verses  while  dignified  are  easily  under- 
stood. Such  unfortunate  titles  as  "  Post- 
ponement," "Invocation,"  "Conquest," 
"Confidence,"  "Inaction,"  "Gifts," 
"Achievement,"  "Analogy,"  "Oppor- 
tunity," "Monotony,"  "Enlargement," 
"The  Sense  of  Mysterj^"  "Certitude," 
and  "Absence,"  are  truly  formidable, 
and  suggest  the  index  to  Green's  "Pro- 
legomena to  Ethics."  On  first  reading 
these  gray  and  dreary  titles  we  expect 
nothing  biit  a  cold  douche  of  abstract 
disquisition.  Miss  Coleman's  titles,  how- 
ever, need  not  frighten  the  reader;  let  him 
dip    into    the     poem,   and  all    becomes 


406 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


warmth,  colour  and  light.  This  reas- 
suring word  can  be  said  even  of  "Anal- 
ogy," the  worst-named  and  hardest- 
grained  poem  in  the  whole  collection. 

Miss  Coleman  shows  her  master}^  of 
music  and  saves  herself  from  the  sin  of 
monotony  by  her  attempts  at  different 
measures  and  by  variety  in  stanza  form. 
Her  metre,  which  is  sometimes  too  ir- 
regular and  at  times  faulty,  but  on  the 
whole  exceedingly  well  managed,  varies 
from  the  swinging  music  of  such  a  verse 
as  the  follovdng  from  "On  the  Trail": 

Oh,  there's  nothing  hke  the  prairie 
When  the  wind  is  in  your  face, 
-  And  a  thunder-storm  is  brewing, 
And  night  comes  down  apace — 

'Tis  then  you  feel  the  wonder 
And  immensity  of  space ! 

to  the  graceful  playfulness  of  her  poem 
"Since  Reading  Maeterhnck": 

I  used  to  think  the  honey-bee 

A  harmless  little  fellow. 
An  animated  symphony 

Done  up  in  brown  and  yellow. 
But  since  I  read  my  Materlinck 
I  really  don't  know  what  to  think ! 

or  advances  to  the  stately  and  solemn 
cadence  of  her  sonnet-style  in  which  she 
is  at  her  best: 

Encompassed  by  a  thousand  nameless  fears, 
I  see  life's  little  day  begin  to  wane. 
And  hear  the  well-loved  voices  call  in  vain 

Across  the  narrowing  margin  of  my  years; 

And  as  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  nears, 
Such  yearning  tides  of  tenderness  and  pain 
Sweep  over  me  that  I  can  scarce  restrain 

The  gathering  flood  of  ineffectual  tears. 

From  these  quotations,  which  for 
mtisical  charm  could  be  matched  nfty 
times  in  this  book  of  poems,  we  have 
stu-ely  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that 
Miss  Coleman's  style  is  an  instrument 
of  clarity,  grace,  flexibility  and  power. 

It  is  a  very  great  tritmiph  to  have 
evolved  a  style  of  such  sonority  and 
strength;  it  is  a  still  greater  triumph  to 
have  uttered  a  message  of  correspond- 
ing distinction.  The  modem  makers 
of  lamp-poetry  are,  as  a  rule,  hollow 
voices  sounding  down  the  wind,  mere 
echoes  of  their  masters,  or  else  trifling 
jongleurs  whose  only  object  is  to  amuse. 
Their  chief  sin  is  one  of  omission;  their 
verse  is  worthless  because  of  poverty  of 
thought.     They    have    no    individuality, 


no  message,  no  impassioned  word  for  a 
waiting  world.  They  are  entirely  im- 
able  to  measure  up  to  Matthew  Arnold's 
dictimi  that  the  poetry  which  reaches 
the  soul  must  be  at  bottom  a  criticism 
of  life.  We  believe  that  Miss  Coleman's 
songs  and  sonnets  would  have  pleased 
even  such  a  severe  critic  as  the  serious- 
minded  apostle  of  sweetness  and  light. 
Our  new  Canadian  poet  has  much  in 
common  with  Matthew  Arnold.  Just 
as  he  did,  she  knows  how  to  combine 
concreteness  and  colour  with  a  certain 
noble  simpHcity  and  restraint  of  style, 
and  hke  Arnold,  she  loves  best  of  all  to 
devote  her  thought  to  the  deep  things 
of  the  soul.  If  we  miss  in  her  bracing 
pages  the  gentle  pessimism  of  Arnold, 
we  discover  over  and  over  again  that  she 
too  is  acquainted  with  the  doubt  and 
restless  intellectual  questioning  of  our 
day  in  matters  of  faith,  and  she  shares 
with  him  a  tremendous  earnestness  in 
dealing  with  the  problems  of  Ufe  and 
destiny.  To  every  thoughtful  Canadian 
Miss  Coleman's  poetry  should  prove 
deeply  interesting,  for  it  is  a  criticism  of 
life;  this  new  poet  of  ours  knows  life  in 
its  sadness,  gladness  and  beauty,  and 
sings  of  it  in  relation  to  Natiu^e  and  to 
God. 

It  is  in  her  treatment  of  Nature  that 
Miss  Coleman's  loyalty  to  the  Arnold 
dictum  is  most  pronoimced.  Of  the 
many  nature-pieces  in  this  book,  only 
three  or  four  stand  unrelated  to  himian 
life.  A  passion  for  landscape-painting 
has  been  one  of  the  vices  of  Canadian 
poets;  they  have  never  tired  of  drawing 
cameos,  picturing  the  lonely  lakes,  the 
autumn  woods,  the  flowery  fields,  yet, 
beautiful  as  many  of  these  poems  are, 
somehow  we  feel  that  our  poets  as  a 
class  are  unsympathetic  with  the  toils 
and  heart-aches  of  humanity.  Miss  Cole- 
man has  indulged  in  this  popular  form 
of  art  for  art's  sake  in  her  poems  on 
"September,"  "The  Dawn,"  and  "The 
Coming  of  Autumn,"  but  in  nearly  all 
her  nature-pieces  she  links  the  world  of 
trees  and  fields  and  flowers  to  the  strug- 
gles and  joys  and  sorrows  of  the  soul. 
If  she  paints  a  landscape  she  places  a 
human  being  in  the  foreground,  and  it 
would  be  well  if  her  example  might  be 


A   NEW   CANADIAN   POET 


407 


followed  by  all  the  wood-ranging,  bo- 
tanical, still-life  school  of  Canadian  sing- 
ers. We  have  had  much  description  of 
Nature  in  her  many  moods,  but  we  need 
more  warm  soul  life  in  our  poetry.  It 
is  all  well  and  proper  to  luxuriate  in 
hectic  descriptions  of  Indian  Summer, 
and  every  Canadian  poet  has  tried  his 
hand  at  this  fascinating  subject,  but 
few,  few,  all  too  few,  have  been  the 
rhapsodists  who  have  combined  beau- 
tiful description  with  spiritual  teaching. 
The  following  stanzas  illustrate  Miss 
Coleman's  manner: 

The  fires  that  in  the  maples  glow, 
The  rapture  that  the  beeches  know. 
The  smoke-wraiths  drifting  to  and  fro, 

Each  season  more  endears; 
Vague  longings  in  the  heart  arise, 
A  dimming  mist  comes  to  the  eyes 
That  is  not  sadness,  though  it  lies 
Close  to  the  place  of  tears. 

We  share  the  ecstacy  profound 
That  broods  in  everything  around, 
And  by  the  wilderness  are  crowned — ' 

Its  silent  worship  know. 
O  when  our  Indian  Summer  days 
Divide  the  parting  of  the  ways, 
May  we,  too,  linger  here  in  praise 

Awhile  before  we  go ! 

Again,  our  new  poet  goes  to  Nature 
for  the  joy  of  comradeship,  which  she 
finds  in  field  and  wood: 

The  silence  of  thy  forest  ways 

Has  given  peace  to  troubled  days; 

And  all  thy  lovely,  leafy  things 

Have  brought  the  joy  a  comrade  brings. 

Nature  not  only  gladdens  her  but  gives 
new  strength  and  inspiration  with  which 
to  face  the  duties  of  life.  In  one  of  the 
loveliest  of  her  poems.  Miss  Coleman 
describes  the  lilacs  spreading  their  fra- 
grant arms  about  the  deserted  old  home- 
stead : 

As  if  with  beauty  they  would  hide 
The  fallen  fortunes  of  the  race, 

Still  cherishing  with  love  and  pride 
The  old  traditions  of  the  place. 

So  year  by  year  they  closer  press. 
And  every  season  slowly  spread, 

Praising  with  silent  loveliness 

The  unknown,  long-forgotten  dead. 

One  of  the  poet's  favourite  fancies,  a 
thought  which  she  emphasises  in  several 
poems,  and  which  she  expands  in  sonnet- 
form,  is  that  the  earth  grows  more  beau- 
tifiol  as  we  grow  old.  This  is  her  richest 
contribution  to  the  study  of  Nature.     But 


Nature  would  be  neither  beautiful  nor 
charming  if  she  could  not  see  "the  Uv- 
ing  soul  behind." 

And  lovely  are  Earth's  various  moods, 
Her  winter  snows,  her  summer  woods, 

Her  meadows  green  and  broad ; 
But  O,  I  find  no  loveliness 
In  mountain,  sea  or  sky  unless 
Their  changing  forms  to  me  express 
The  changelessness  of  God! 

Her  thought  of  God  is 

Of  some  enfolding  Care  that  dwells  behind 
The  fixed,  dividing  walls  of  circumstance. 

Her  teaching  with  respect  to  the  Fath- 
erhood of  God  is  summed  up  for  us  in 
one  of  the  most  effective  stanzas  in  her 
book: 

With  beauty  lavished  everywhere, 

With  love  still  ours  in  priceless  store — 

And  back  of  all  the  unseen  Care — 

O  faithless  heart,  what  would'st  thou  more  ? 

Cherishing  such  a  firm  belief  in  God, 
Miss  Coleman  might  be  expected  to 
maintain  a  sure  and  certain  hope  that 
this  Hfe  does  not  end  all.  Steeped  in  the 
questionings  and  analogies  of  modern 
science,  it  can  still  be  said  of  her  that 
she  walks  by  faith,  not  by  sight- 

So  in  the  vast  and  limitless  unknown. 

That  wraps  us  with  its  fearful  night  around, 
At   first   the   beam   by   faith    or   knowledge 
thrown, 
Seems  but  to  make  the  darkness  more  pro- 
found, 
But  presently  one  step  ahead  is  shown — 
Enough  to  prove  that  it  is  solid  ground. 

In  another  soimet  she  argues  that  be- 
cause there  may  be  colours  beyond  the 
violet  rays  so  there  may  be 

Far  wider  realms  that  lie 
Beyond  our  spirit  borders. 

In  this  matter,  howeyer,  she  trust  to 
logic  not  so  much  as  to 

That  fine  sense  whereby  we  are  aware 
Of  something  in  ourselves  that  does  not  spring 

From  life  without,  or  in  its  fulness  share; 
But  Uke  a  captive  bird  with  quivering  wing. 

Strains  ever  to  its  native,  purer  air,        -    ' 

It  is  in  the  hour  of  pain  and  suffering 
that  she  becomes  most  certain  of  the 
hfe  beyond: 

But  in  the  night  of  trial  and  distress 

The  quickened  soul  to  vaster  realms  draws 
near; 

And  o'er  the  borders  of  our  consciousness 
Foretokens  of  the  Infinite  appear. 

Her  thought  on  this  subject  is  gathered 


408 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


into  compact  form  in  the  poem  "Anal- 
ogy," concluding  with  the  following 
stanzas  which  cannot  fail  to  appeal  to 
every  soul  that  yearns  for  fuller  life  be- 
yond the  borders  and  the  coasts  of  time: 

The  heart  attuned  to  love  doth  find 

Love  waiting  at  the  door; 
He  who  to  knowledge  turns  his  mind 

Finds  knowledge  there  before, 
And  shall  the  deepest  want  we  know, 

The  spirit's  anguished  cry 
For  kinship  through  the  darkness,  go 

Unanswered  from  on  high? 

Along  with  these  finer  intuitions  and 
spiritual    perceptions    we    find    in    Miss 
Coleman's    poetry-    a    warm    humanity. 
She  loves  the   human   brotherhood.     In 
what  is  probably  the  most  strikingly  orig- 
inal poem  in  the  collection,  she  tells  us 
how  she  sorrowed  at  a  stranger's  burial. 
Had  she  met  him  in  his  day  of  health 
and    youthful    strength,    perchance    she 
would   have  passed   him   by,   but   death 
drew   forth   her   s}'mpathy   and   became 
the  great  revealer  of  brotherhood. 
And  though  I  went  my  way  with  eyeUds  wet 
For  grief  of  one  whom  I  had  never  met, 
Because  his  day  so  soon  was  ended,  yet 
I  turned  my  face  up  Heavenward  again. 
Believing  human  love  is  not  in  vain ; 
And,  moved  and  softened  by  the  sudden  strain 
Of  fellowship,  I  touched  the  larger  mood 
Of  universal  love,  and  understood 
The  passion  of  our  common  brotherhood. 

With  such  a  fellow-feeling  for  her 
kind  this  poet  enlists  our  sympathy  for 
those  who  struggle  on  enduring  the 
common  lot  of  toil  and  grief  and  pain, 
and  she  would  not  have  us  forget  the 
obscure  heroes  who  are  fighting  losing 
battles  amid  the  hum-driun  and  monot- 
ony of  Ufe: 

God  pity  those  unknown  who  daily  tread 
The  desolate,  monotonous  ways  of  pain; 

And  nightly  bivouac  with  their  hosts  of  dead 
On    silent    battle-fields   where    hearts   are 
slain ! 

With  all  her  rich  and  tender  sympathy 
for  the  human  brotherhood,  Miss  Cole- 
man favours  the  cultivation  of  a  certain 
joy  of  battle  and  stoicism  wherewith  to 
welcome  the  brunt  and  pain  of  life.  Her 
own  love  of  action,  of  struggle,  of  grim 


endurance  gives  her  poetry  a  tonic  power. 
She  would  welcome  even 

The  battle-plain. 
Where  drum  and  fife 
Call  to  the  deadly  strife, 

rather  than  spend  her  days  in  inglorious 
idleness  and  ease.     Possessed  by  a  per- 
fect hatred  of  apathy  and  inaction,  she 
sings : 
Far  better  in  a  losing  cause  to  fight 

Than  feel  one's  sinews  wasting  day  by  day; 
Give  me  the  hemlock  draught  and  dreamless 
night 

Before  this  daily  death  of  apathy! 

Actuated  by  such  a  spirit  she  declares 
that  we  can  master  pain,  and  that  good 
may  be  the  outcome  of  apparent  loss: 

O  not  in  vain 
These  earthly  crucibles  of  pain, 
In  every  loss  may  still  be  gain. 

Of  the  many  poems  in  this  book 
which  belong  to  this  class,  the  vigorous 
lyric,  "  Opportunity,"  is  worthy  of  Brown- 
ing in  his  stoutest  mood,  and  ought  to 
be  sufficient  to  nerve  the  most  faint- 
hearted, the  most  pessimistic,  the  most 
sorely-tried,  to  fight  on  determined  not 
to  yield: 

Hast  thou  been  driven  to  the  wall? — 
Sound  once  again  thy  battle-call. 
Thou  knowest  not  what  store  of  strength 
Determination  yields  at  length; 
When  all  the  outer  forces  fail. 
Sheer  inner  courage  may  prevail. 

Art  thou  from  service  set  aside — 

Thy  cherished  hope  and  work  denied? 

The  greatest  task  of  all  may  be 

To  show  steadfast  serenity. 

Not  all  is  lost  while  we  may  make 

One  comrade  stronger  for  our  sake. 

To  make  an  exhaustive  study  of  this' 
book  of  poems,  devoting  adequate  treat- 
ment to  the  love  element  and  the  lyrics 
with  a  distinct  Canadian  flavour,  such 
as  "I  Am  Content  with  Canada,"  would 
demand  impossible  space.  We  shall  be 
content,  however,  if  this  appreciation 
will  serve  to  call  the  attention  of  the 
readers  of  The  Canadian  Magazine 
to  the  work  of  a  sincere  and  high-thought- 
ed  poet,  whose  optimistic  message  to  all 
of  us  mav  be  summed  up  in  the  terse 
phrases — Enjoy  Nature,  trust  in  the 
Unseen  Care,  love  the  brotherhood,  and 
fight  life's  battle  with  a  brave  heart. 


THE  COLONIAL  PRESS 

MR.  ARTHUR  W.  k  BECKETT, 
FJ.L,  a  Past  President  of  the  In- 
stitute of  Journalists  and  of  the  News- 
paper Society,  recently  read  before  the 
Royal  Colonial  Institute  a  paper  entitled 
"The  Colonial  Press."  Judging  from 
what  he  had  to  say  about  the  press  of 
Canada ,  it  must  be  presumed  that  •  he 
was  not  even  tolerably 
well  qualified  to  discuss 
the  subject  in  at  least 
its  special  aspects,  and 
in  justice  to  him  it  can 
be  said  that  he  admitted 
his  disqualification  in 
that  respect,  having  been 
compelled  to  form  his 
conclusions  from  the 
opinions,  soHcited,  of 
journaHsts  who  were 
supposed  to  have  had 
opportunities  of  observ- 
ing at  first  hand  the 
press  of  the  colonies 
in  operation.  The  fol- 
lowing is  quoted  from 
the  paper:  "I  hear  from 
an  expert  that  the  Old 
Country  has  nothing  to 
learn  from  the  Canadian 
press,  which  is  gratify- 
ing to  my  natural,  as 
distinct  from  my  im- 
perial, vanity.  It  is  not 
vmnatural  that  some  of 
the  manners  and 
customs  of  the  neigh- 
bours down  south  should 
have  crossed  the  Cana- 
dian frontier.  There  is 
one  matter  which  is  cer- 
tainly deeply  interest- 
ing to  us  stay-at-home 
journalists.  The  leading 
Canadian    dailies   s:et 


their  British  news  through  New  York  and 
through  the  Canadian  Associated  Press 
— which  is  subsidised  by  the  Canadian 
Government  and  is  represented  by  a  Ca- 
nadian in  London.  I  have  been  told  that 
the  Canadian  press  is  unconsciously  de- 
veloping a  strong  Nationahstic  spirit. 
This  is  seen  in  the  almost  universal  ad- 
vocacy of  'protection  for  Canadian  in- 
dustries.'    The  press  of  Canada,  like  its' 


THE    L.\TEST  PORTR.\IT   OF    KING   EDWARD 


It  was  painted  by  Mr.  Fred  Roe  at  Buckingham  Palace,  where  His  Majesty 
sat  specially  for  it  and  now  hangs  in   King  Edward  VII  Grammar 
School,  lately  opened  at  King's  Lynn 


409 


410 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


MR.    BYRON    E.    WALKER 
New  President,  Bank  of  Commerce 

politics,  is  largely  influenced,  if  not  actually 
dominated,  by  the  manufacturing  interest, 
whose  motto  is  'Canada  for  the  Cana- 
dians.' It  is  a  curious  fact  that  while 
London  letters  reflecting  British  opinion 
go  all  over  the  Australian  States,  India 
and  the  United  States,  I  know  of  no  Lon- 
don letter  sent  to  Canada,  except  to  one  or 
two  unimportant  papers.  The  space  is 
devoted  to  local  interests  rather  than  to 
the  interests  of  the  British  Empire.  So 
I  have  been  told  by  those  who  have  been 
connected  for  many  years  with  the  Cana- 
dian press.  The  papers  are,  from  a 
journalistic  point  of  view,  quite  excellent. 
If  there  is  any  fault  to  find  in  them  it  is 
the  absence  of  the  British  bias." 

It  is  rather  a  sweeping  statement  to  say 
that  the  Old  Coimtry  has  nothing  to  learn 
from  the  Canadian  press,  particularly 
when  just  two  things  are  considered — 
make-up  and  conciseness.  Of  course,  it 
.must  be  admitted  that  as  yet  the  Cana- 
dian press  cannot  support  independent 
cablegrams,  and  therefore  a  good  deal  of 


foreign  and  British  news 
does  come  in  through 
New  York.  Most  of  it 
is  sent,  however,  by  the 
Associated  Press, 
through  Bufi'alo.  But 
it  is  not  fair  to  presume 
that  there  is  an  Amer- 
ican bias,  because,  gen- 
erally speaking,  the  de- 
spatches contain  what 
comes  under  the  cate- 
gory of  fact  and  not  of 
comment.  Perhaps  Mr. 
k  Beckett  is  not  aware 
that  the  majority  of  the 
papers  he  mentioned  as 
the  most  important  of 
the  press  of  Canada 
publish  from  time  to 
time  special  cabled  ar- 
ticles from  the  London 
Times.  So  far,  owing 
to  various  reasons,  the 
Canadian  Associated 
Press  has  not  been  a 
success.  The  ' '  curious ' ' 
fact  that  few  London 
letters  reflecting  British 
opinion  are  published 
in  Canada  is  a  credit  to  Canadian  jour- 
nalism. The  letter  is  out  of  date  even  be- 
fore it  arrives,  and  therefore  is  of  decreas- 
ing interest  to  newspapers  that  are  used 
to  keeping  up  with  the  increasing  mass  of 
important  events  all  over  the  world.  The 
comprehensive  article  finds  its  place  in 
the  monthly  magazines. 

Mr.  k  Beckett  said,  also,  that  he  had 
been  told  that  in  Canada  newspaper 
space  was  devoted  to  local  interests  rather 
than  to  the  interests  of  the  British  Empire. 
That  is  as  it  should  and  must  be.  Let 
Mr.  k  Beckett  look  over  the  newspapers 
of  Great  Britain  and  see  whether  as  much 
space  is  given  to  colonial  news  as  to  the 
news  of  the  British  Isles.  But  it  is  not 
only  news  of  the  British  Empire  that  we 
want;  we  want  to  know  also  about  the 
rest  of  the  world.  And  in  this  connection 
it  might  astonish  Mr.  a  Beckett  to  know 
that  the  very  newspapers  he  accuses  of 
local  restrictions,  publish  more  world 
news,  according  to  their  means  and  op- 
portunities, than  the  press  of  any  other 


PEOPLE   AND   AFFAIRS 


411 


country  in  the  world,  perhaps  without 
exception.  Even  the  news  of  our  own 
Dominion  is  carried  by  wire  over  immense 
distances  and  at  great  cost. 

Finally,  Mr.  k  Beckett  finds  fault  in 
the  press  of  Canada  because  of  an  ab- 
sence of  the  British  bias.  That  is  a 
strange  statement  from  so  seasoned  a 
journalist.  What  we  want  is  fact  and  a 
proper  balance.  There  is  enough  bias 
now.  If  there  is  anything  in  the  Empire 
to  be  deplored,  let  us  deplore  it;  if  there 
is  anything  to  be  praised,  then  let  us 
praise  it.  But  please  do  not  give  us  things 
cut  on  the  bias. 

If  Mr.  k  Beckett  would  do  a  real  ser- 
vice for  Canada  and  the  Empire,  he 
would  use  his  good  influence  to  induce  the 
British  postal  authorities  to  place  Old 
Country  newspapers  and  periodicals  en- 
tering Canada  on  at  least  the  same  rate 
with  United  States  publications. 


THE  NEW  PRESIDENT  OF  THE  BANK 
OF  COMMERCE 

TT  had  been  known  to  a  few  persons 
^  that  Hon.  George  A.  Cox  wished  to 
be  relieved  of  some  of  his  most  active 
responsibihties  and  that  one  of  the  first 
to  be  relinquished  would  be  the  Presi- 
dency of  the  Canadian  Bank  of  Commerce, 
because  there  was  a  gentleman  already 
well-seasoned  for  the  position — ^Ir.  B\Ton 
E.  Walker,  the  General  Manager.  Apart 
from  that,  Mr.  Walker  had  long  been 
de  facto  the  head  of  this  great  banking 
institution,  and  his  appointment  therefore 
came  as  a  matter  of  course  to  those  who 
had  been  at  all  qualified  to  forecast  the 
situation.  While  Mr.  Walker  ranks  with 
the  great  bankers  of  his  time,  in  the  Unit- 
ed States  and  England  as  well  as  in  Ca- 
nada, he  should  be  knowTi  to  those  who 
read  The  Canadl\x  Magazine  as  a 
gentleman  whose  high  culture  and  artistic 
aspirations  are  rarely  exceeded  even  by 
those  whose  daily  walk  and  conversation 
have  not  to  do  mostly  with  the  more 
prosaic  affairs  of  finance  arid  commerce. 
He  is  an  educationist  of  Provincial  repu- 
tation, ha\-ing  been  successively  a  Senator, 
a  Trustee,  and  now  a  Governor  of  the 
University  of  Toronto.     Few  persons  in 


MR.    J.\MES    BRVCE 

The  new  British  Ambassador  to  the 
United  States 

Canada  have  done  more  to  encourage  art 
at  home  than  he  has,  and  his  sympathies 
have  been  extended  in  this  connection 
towards  the  establishment  of  a  compre- 


JUDGE    LIXDSEY 

Renowned  for  his  success  in  reforming  criminal 
tendencies  in  children 


412 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


HON.   G.    W.   ROSS 
Who  was  recently  appointed  a  Senator 

hensive  museum  of  art  and  to  give  art  a 
place  in  the  deliberations  of  the  City 
Council  of  Toronto.  He  is  also  a  geol- 
ogist of  widespread  reputation,  having 
earned  a  fellowship  of  the  Geological 
Society  of  England. 

Mr.  Walker  is  fifty-nine  years  old,  and 
was  bom  in  Haldimand  County.  He  has 
been  connected  with  the  Bank  of  Com- 
merce for  thirty-nine  years. 

A  DISTINGUISHED  VISITOR 

HE  recent  visit  to  Ottawa,  Toronto 
and  other  Canadian  cities  of  Judge 
Lindsey,  of  the  Juvenile  Court  of  Denver, 
has  been  of  more  than  ordinary  interest. 
During  the  last  year,  The  Century,  Mc- 
Clure's  and  other  magazines  have  fairly 
acquainted  the  reading  pubHcwith  the  pol- 
icy of  reclamation  pursued  by  Judge  Lind- 
sey in  his  treatment  of  youthful  oflfenders. 


T 


Instead  of  committing  a  boy 
to  a  penal  or  industrial  institu- 
tion, he  tries  to  win  his  con- 
fidence and  thereby  discover 
the  circumstances  which  j  led 
to  the  act  of  offence.  By 
this  means  he  has  [been 
enabled  to  clear  out  whole 
districts  which  had  criminal 
environment. 

The  proof  of  the  poUcy  is 
in  the  improved  condition 
of  a  city  and  state,  while  the 
fact  that  business  men  of  Den- 
ver are  willing  to  take  Judge 
Lindse)-'s  "boys"  into  their 
offices  and  factories  and  give 
them  a  trial  speaks  emphatic- 
ally for  itself.  The  secret  of 
his  success  Ues  in  a  personal 
investigation  of  every  case  and 
a  personal  supervision  by  the 
probation  officers  of  all  boys 
who  come  into  court. 

o% 

THE  NEW  BRITISH] 
EMBASSADOR 

THE  new  British  Ambass- 
ador to  the  United  States, 
Mr.  James  Bryce,  who 
has  been,  since  1905,  Chief 
Secretary  for  Ireland,  is 
one  of  the  most  eminent 
men  of  letters  of  to-day.  It  seems  almost 
like  an  acceptable  arrangement  of  fate 
that  the  man  who  in  his  "American  Com- 
monwealth" should  have  so  well  ap- 
praised the  constitution  and  institutions 
of  the  United  States  should  be  sent  to  the 
capital  of  that  Republic  as  the  Ambassa- 
dor of  the  greatest  Empire  the  world  has 
ever  known.  Mr.  Bryce  has  written, 
also,  "The  Holy  Roman  Empire."  His 
writings  and  speeches  have  been  marked 
with  singular  keenness  of  observation  and 
loftiness  of  expression.  Undoubtedly,  he 
is  the  most  acceptable  choice  that  could 
have  been  made  for  Washington. 

A  CHANCE  IN  ONTARIO 

THE  removal  of  Hon.  George  W.  Ross 
from  the  arena  of  active  party 
politics  in  Ontario  to  the  Senate  at  Ottawa 
affords  a  rare  opportunity  for  distinction, 


PEOPLE   AND   AFFAIRS 


413 


for  now,  if  ever,  the  Liberal  party  of 
Ontario  is  crying  for  a  Joshua.  But 
will  the  cry  be  in  vain?  Able  men  thgre 
doubtless  are,  but  the  'lideal"  man  seems 
to  be  not  available  at  the  momerit.  It-^ 
is  a  great  opportunity,  and  it.ls*rto.  be 
hoped  for  the  general  good  of  the  Pr'oVfece 
that  a  man  of  distinguished  parts-iwill 
arise  to  the  occasion.  Tor  suit  the 
circumstances,  he  must  be  more  than  a 
politician  and  more  than  an  orator.  He 
must  be  both  of  these,  but  as  well  a  man 
of  exceptional  resource,-  unimpeachable 
character  and  unfailing  magnetism. 

Mr.  Ross  will  be  remembered  in 
Ontario  for  his  long  years  of  service, 
particularly  in  the  Department  of  Educa- 
tion. He  will  be  remembered  also  as 
one  of  the  most  brilliant  orators  of  his 
day,  and  it  was  in  the  field  of  oratory  that 
he  afforded  a  strong  impetus  to  the 
younger  members  of  the  Legislature. 
His  entrance  into  the  Senate  should 
enlarge  the  interest  taken  in  the  debates 
of  that  ausfust  bodv. 


SPELLING  REFORMERS  AWAKE 

'T^HE  movement  that  began  in  the 
*-  United  States  some  time  ago  to  in- 
troduce what  is  called  "simpHfied  spell- 
ing" is  still  feehng  the  impetus  it  received 
from  President  Roosevelt.  A  "Simph- 
fied  Spelling  Board"  has  been  organised, 
and  a  systematic  campaign  has  begun. 
The  board  is  composed  of  influential 
persons,  including  editors,  college  pro- 
fessors, and  such  gentlemen  of  promi- 
nence as  Andrew  Carnegie,  Mark  Twain, 
Isaac  K.  Funk  and  LNonan  J.  Gage. 
Literature  is  being  distributed  broadcast 
to  editors,  and  an  invitation  is  given  to 
join  others  in  the  adoption  of  the  simple 
forms  of  spelling,  provided  a  satisfactory 
number  of  editors  and  publishers  agree  to 
do  likewise.  That  is  a  good  way  to  go 
about  it,  and  it  will  hkely  effect  a  change 
in  the  spelling  of  many  words.  The  list 
submitted  contains  about  six  hundred. 
The  simplified  forms  suggested  are  of 
this  nature:  Ardor,  instead  of  ardour; 
accurst,  instead  of  accursed;  cue,  instead 
of  queue;  brazen,  instead  of  brasen; 
kist,  instead  of  kissed;    clue,  instead  of 


ciew;    egisj  instead  of  a^gis;    sCepter,  in- 
stead o£.  sceptre,  and  so  on.     i-  ^ 

We  have  not  joined  the  new  throng  yet,  ' 
our  type-setters  still  being  wijling  to  go 
on  in  the  old  way.     Bi^t  perhaf^^  the  type-  ■ 
setters  have  not  heard, about  it.     Maybe    . 
they,  will  later  on.     Meantime,  we  shall 
continue    to    be   convinced    that  all  the  ] 
ladies    of    our    acquaintance    would    be 
highly    indignant    if    wie'  were    to    say  ; 
that   they   had  often   been    k-i-s-t.      To 
our    minds,    so    far,    there    is    nothing 
like  the  old-fashioned  k-i-s-s-e-d,  no  other 
form   just   quite   so   good.      Then  when 
it   comes    to   cutting   down   accursed   to 
accurst,     we     freely     sympathise     with 
those  who  have  been  used  to  reading  the 
Old   Testament   aloud   with   fitting   em- 
phasis. 

Why  should  not  those  who  are  zealous 
to  reform  spelling  begin  at  the  beginning, 
by  inventing  a  few  more  hieroglyphics  to 
represent  the  vowels  that  are  really  out- 
raged in  such  words  as  t-r-o-u-g-h,  trough, 
and  t-h-r-o-u-g-h,  through? 

Following  is  a  sample  of  reform,  as  the 
Pall  Mall  Magazine  sees  it. 


THE   NU   SPEI^UN 

"What  name,  please?" — "Hemmaremmins." 
"Beg  pardon?" — "Hemmaremmixs." 
"Oh,  ah,  would  you  kindly  spell  it?" 
"He-Hem-Hem- Hay  Haitch-He-Hem-Hem- 
Hi-Hen-Hess!" 

The  Editor 


IDLE      MOMENTS 


THE  TRINITY  OUTDONE 

LITTLE  Rob  considered  it  a  great 
privilege  to  help  his  father  and  mother 
to  butter  as  he  was  often  allowed  to  do. 
One  morning  there  were  four  individual 
butter  chips,  instead  of  the  usual  three. 
Rob  looked  at  them  for  a  while;  then 
counted  slowly  to  himself,  several  times: 
"One  for  papa;  one  for  mamma;  one  for 
me.  One  for  papa ;  one  for  mamma ; 
one  for  me." 

Picking  up  the  e.xtra  dish,  he  hesitated 
a  moment;  and  after  a  blessing  had  been 
invoked,  observed:  "Well,  this  one  must 
be  for  the  Lord."  P.C.S. 


A   DEMERARA  BOY  IN   NEW  YORK 

THE  following  unique  letter  was  re- 
cently received  by  a  coloured  woman 
in  Demerara  (British  Guiana)  from  her 
son,  stranded  in  New  York.  The  letter 
is  written  from  "Washington  Street, 
New  York,  U.S.A.": 

My  Dear  Mother, — I  now  take  my  pen  in 
hand  to  write  you  these  few  lines,  hoping 
that  they  may  find  you  well,  as  they  leave 
me  very  bad  indeed  at  present.  You  must 
beg  Mr.  Brathwaite  what  I  used  to  work 
carpenter  with,  if  he  please  to  go  with  you 
to  the  Governor  Hutchson.  But  I  got  a 
mind  that  if  you  was  to  ask  the  Archdeacon 
to  give  you  a  letter  to  the  Governor  and 
say  how  bad  I  am  suffering  this  side,  the 
Governor  obliged  and  bound  to  give  me 
a  passage  home,  because  I  am  entitle  to 
it  as  I  am  a  true  born  native  of  the  colony. 
Or  you  must  carry  your  jewels  to  Mr. 
Antony  and  get  money  to  borrow  to  pay 
my  passage  and  get  Miss  Pilgrim  to  lend 
her  rings  till  I  come  back  and  work  for 
money   to   take   them   out.     If   your   jewels 

414 


pawn  already,  you  will  never  see  poor 
Gussy  again.  I  has  not  tasted  food  since 
early  to-day,  and  I  don't  look  for  none  till 
I  get  your  letter  next  month.  Hungry 
going  kill  me  before  the  answer  come,  but 
pray  to  the  Lord  plenty  and  I  will  try  to 
keep  heart.  A  prayer  is  answered  more 
quicker  in  Demerara  than  in  New  York, 
so  it  is  no  good  for  me  to  say  I  going  to  pray 
this  side,  because  I  know  before  I  begin 
nothing  going  to  come  of  it.  The  more  I 
pray  the  lesser  I  gets  to  eat  and  nobody  here 
don't  care  about  if  I  tastes  food.  The  whole 
of  this  place  are  inhabited  savages.  I  never 
see  no  respectable  people  like  what  you  got 
in  Demerara.  All  is  avaricious  and  greedy 
and  fallen  short  of  Glory  of  God.  Ex- 
pecting to  hear  from  you  soon,  or  else  you 
never  see  me  no  more,  no  more  again,  but 
like  the  prodigal  in  the  far  country  I  eats 
husks  with  the  swine. 

Yours  repeatedly, 

GussY  C. 
P.S. — Be  not  weary  in  well  doing.  Search 
the  scriptures  daily  and  be  wise  unto  the 
salvation  of  your  soul.  Sick  and  imprisoned 
and  you  visited  me  not.  Depart  into  ever- 
lasting darkness  where  the  worm  dieth  not 
and  the  fire  is  not  quenched.  Verily  I  say 
unto  you  you  will  not  come  out  thence  until 
thou  hast  paid  the  uttermost  farthing.  He 
that  is  often  reproved  and  hardeneth  his 
heart  shall  be  suddenly  cut  off,  and  that 
without  remedy.  Behold  the  lilies  of  Pales- 
tine. Poor  me,  Gussy,  I  -n-ill  work  at  the 
trade  when  I  come  back. 

Commenting  on  this  plaintive  appeal, 
which  he  pubHshes  in  full,  the  editor 
of  a  Demerara  newspaper  facetiously  re- 
marks: 

Master  Gussy  is  evidently  in  a  tight  place, 
and  knows  it,  and  there  may  be  a  cheap 
funeral  in  Washington  Street  I  like  his 
remark  about  eating  husks  with  the  swine, 
but  I  wonder  if  he  means  his  fellow  New 
Yorkers  One  more  fool  disillusioned !  Hav- 
ing been  on  the  rack  in  New  York  myself. 


IDLE   MOMENTS 


415 


however,  I  cannot  well  afford  to  poke  too 
much  fun  at  the  home-sick  creature,  who- 
ever he  may  be.  I  know  what  it  feels  like 
to  he  homeless  and  hungry  in  that  wilderness 
of  a  city,  and  how  cold  it  is  sleeping  on 
benches  in  the  parks,  except  when  a  police- 
man comes  along  and  makes  it  warm  with  a 
nice  hard  knock  laid  on  anywhere. '  vSick  of 
these  night  visits  from  our  enemies,  I  and 
another  Demerarian  slept  for  a  night  in  trees, 
but  one  night  I  awoke  to  find  my  fellow- 
sufferer  being  hauled  to  earth  by  two  police- 
men, who  were  using  a  hook-stick  like  those 
grocers  use  to  unhang  hams  with.  They  did 
not  hook  me,  I  dropped,  surrendered,  and 
took  a  clout  on  the  back  of  my  head  like  a 
peaceful  citizen  of  the  U.S.A.  And  then  we 
crawled  into  an  empty  boiler  at  the  river  side 
in  South  Street  It  was  a  perfect  little 
paradise  until  the  police  put  a  hose  through 
the  man-hole  and  swamped  us  out.  I  pointed 
out  to  my  tormentors  that  as  I  happen  to  be 
in  the  world  I  was  bound  to  sleep  somewhere, 
but  one  of  them  replied  by  asking  in  a  strictly 
confidential  whisper:  "Why  the  h —  don't 
you  die?"     No  such  luck. 

Such  is  New  York's  reputation  in  the 
tropics!  And  since  Gussy  eventually  got 
back  to  his  native  land  and  is  no  doubt 
teUing  the  boys  all  about  it,  v^^e  may  be 
sure  that  the  ill-repute  of  the  metropolis, 
is  receiving  considerable  emphasis. 

^^  G.M.L.B. 

HOUSE   OF   SEVEN   GABLES 

T^HE  quaint  house  shown  in  the  picture 
*■  is  situated  on  Elysian  Street,  St. 
Thomas,  Ont.,  and  has  been  locally- 
named  "The  House  of  Seven  Gables." 
It  is  composed  of  seven  distinct  parts  and 
formerly  included  several  more.  Then, 
too,  like  the  original  "House  of  Seven 
Gables,  "  its  title  appears  to  be  somewhat 


uncertain.  It  belongs  to  what  is  kno\vn 
j  as  the  Ainley  Estate,  which  has  for  years 
r>been   in  Chancery,  and  for  some    years 


it  was  not  definitely  settled  as  to  whether 
the  heirs  of  the  estate  had  the  legal  right 
to  collect  rent  from  the  tenant. 

THE  SOUTH  AFRICAN  CAKE 

L)EFORE  the  South  African  team 
^  started  for  England,  a  cake  was  pre- 
sented by  the  Editor  of  the  Kimberley 
Star  to  the  captain  of  the  team  on  the 
condition  that  it  was  not  to  be  cut  until 
the\-  had  won  their  first  match  in  England. 


On  the  top  of  the  cake  there  was  a  small 
Rugby  football  made  of  chocolate  contain- 
ing the  visiting  cards  of  well-known 
residents  in  Kimberley.  Only  the  cap- 
tain and  the  manager  of  the  tea.m  were  in 
the  secret,  and  the  cutting  of  the  cake 
came  as  a  complete  surprise  to  the  rest  of 
the  player?. 


Smith:  "I  say,  Jones,  can  you  pay  me 
that  five  bob  you  owe  me?" 

Tones:  "Sorry,  .Smith,  but  I  haven't  got 
it." 

Smith:   "Can  you  lend  me  ten  bob,  then?" 

Jones:  "Certainly,  old  chap,  with  pleas- 
ure!"— Selected, 


416 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


A  CAT  AND  DOG  CEMETERY 

r^AT  or  dog  banquets,  and  even  cat 
^  or  dog  shows,  often  strike  the  un- 
sophisticated as  being  extremely  ridicu- 
lous, but  these  things  seem  quite  reason- 
able enough  when  proof  is  seen  of  an 
actual  cemetery  for  cats  and  dogs.  The 
accompanying  illustration,  taken  fr<jm 
a  photograph,  shows  a  cemetery  of 
this  nature  in  Kensington  Gardens,  Lon- 
don. 


A   PRETTY    MIX-UP 

THE  CENSUS  TAKER:  "Your name, 
mum  ? 

"I  don't  know." 

"Beg  pardon,  mum?" 

"I'ye  been  divorced.  At  present  my 
name  is  Mrs.  Jones  in  this  State.  In 
several  States  it  is  Miss  Smith,  my  maiden 
name,  and  in  three  States  it  is  Mrs.  Brown, 
my  first  husband's  name." 

"This  your  residence,  mum  ?" 

"I  eat  and  sleep  here,  but  I  have  a 


trunk  in  a  neighbouring  State,  where  I  am 
getting  a  divorce  from  my  present  hus- 
band." 

"Then  you're  married  at  nresent?"  "^-^ 
"I'm  married  in  Texas,  New  York  and 
Massachusetts;  divorced  in  South  Dakota, 
Missouri,  Alaska,  Oklahoma  and  Cali- 
fornia; a  bigamist  in  three  other  States, 
and  a  single  woman  in  eisht  rthers."-^ 
Chicago  Tribune. 


ACTIVE    SERVICE 

FRIEND — "Have  you  ever  seen  active 
service.  Colonel?'" 
Colonel  Grass — "I  have,  sir — very  ac- 
tive.    I    once    promised    a    waiter    two 
shiUings  if  he  served  me  quickly." — Tit- 
Bits. 


FIRST     Physician — Has     he     got     an 
hereditary  trouble? 
Second    Physician — Yes.     I    hope    to 
hand  his  case  down  to    my    son. — Har- 
pefs  Bazar. 


CEMETERY    KOR   DOGS    AND   CATS        _ 


THE 


Canadian  Magazine 


VOL.  XXMII 


TORONTO,  MARCH,  1907 


No.  5 


The  Winter  Wood 


By  VIRNA  SHEARD 


An  expression  in  verse  and  prose  of  a  poeVs  appreciation 
0}  a  majestic  phase  oj  Nature 


LITTLE  fir-trees  of  the  winter  wood, 
In  your  ruffled  robes  of  snow, 
^Ou  are  all  empearled  and  powdered  and  curled 

Like  a  belle  of  long  ago, 
And  the  wind  you  greet  with  witcher\-  sweet 
Or  courtesy,  daint}-  and  low. 

Mighty  gray  oaks  of  the  \\dnter  wood, 
How  grave  you  are,  and  how  grand! 

'Mid  frost-woven  lace  each  holdeth  his  place, 
And  stands  as  a  king  would  stand, 

With  an  ermine  gown  and  a  jewelled  crown 
And  a  sceptre  in  his  hand. 

Beautiful  pines  of  the  winter  wood. 

What  grief  is  yours  that  you  sigh? 
Whv  all  dav  long  sing  a  sorrowful  sons. 


420 


THE    CANADIAN   ISIAGAZINE 


As  the  wil^  wind  goeth  by  ? 
Blows  he  east  or  west,  he  loveth  you  best — 
What  grief  is  yours  that  you  sigh? 

O  place  of  shadows!   O  lonely  wood'. 

As  wondrous  you  seem  to  me, 
As  still  and  white  at  the  edge  of  the  night 

And  breathless  with  mystery, 
As  a  garden  where  God  might  walk  abroaa 

Or  souls  of  the  dead  might  be! 


''I'O  walk  along  the  rim  of  the  wood 
-*•  on  a  dazzling  winter  morning  when 
the  sun  sets  every  ice-drop  a  twinkle  and 
knots  a  bow  of  colours  in  the  heart  of  it, 
is  to  leave  dull  care  behind.  The  rasp- 
berry bushes  trail  their  purple  red 
branches  abroad  to  catch  unheeding  skirts, 
and  the  friendly  burrs  show  a  clinging 
determination  to  cast  their  lot  in  with 
the  passing  stranger.  One  does  not  feel 
as  an  alien,  but  rather  becomes  a  part 
of  the  landscape  and  general  scheme  of 
things.  On  the  carpet  of  snow,  blue 
tinted  from  the  blue  above,  are  here  and 
there  tiny  markings — criss-crosses,  dots 
and  half  moons — that  tell  a  story  all  their 
own,  a  stor}-  of  the  little  feathered  and 
furry  people  of  the  wood.  Some  there 
are  that  sleep — small,  warm  browTi  balls, 
hidden  away  in  queer  holes  and  corners; 
and  some  there  are  that  are  restless  by 
day  and  night,  but  most  restless  when 
the  moon  rolls  like  a  wheel  of  silver 
across  the  sky. 

Here  a  gray  feather  on  the  white  shows 
where  an  owl  passed  in  the  dark,  and 
there  a  few  russet  hairs  tell  that  "brer" 
fox  rested  a  moment  against  the  rough 
bark  of  a  stump,  to  think  things  over  and 
plan  anew. 

Life  is  all  about  us,  vivid,  intense  life, 
hidden,  dreaming  life,  still  life,  though  we 
see  no  living  thing,  and  there  are  only 
empty  nests  swinging  in  the  trees. 

Down  under  the  frost-bitten  leaves 
are  winged  seedlings  and  acorns  in 
their  cups  and  polished,  three-cornered 
beechnuts.  The  golden-rod  stands  under 
shelter  of  the  low  hills,  and  bends  its 
fluffy  head  against  the  wind,  though  it  is 
only  the  ghost  of  the  golden-rod  we  knew 
a  few  yesterdays  ago. 

Milkweed  pods  still  hold  fast  some  of 
their    silvery  treasure,    and     the    vellow 


mullein-stalks — beloved  of  tiie  red- 
shouldered  black-bird  in  summer — still 
stand  stiff  and  firm.  Hips  and  haws 
on  nearby  bushes  gleam  like  coral,  and 
the  \'irginia  creeper  keeps  its  purple 
berries. 

We  walk  through  a  land  of  promise, 
where  those  who  sleep  will  awaken 
when  Spring  begins  to  pipe  upon  her 
fairy  flute,  and  where  is  the  heart  that 
does  not  beat  faster  at  the  beauty  of  the 
thought  ? 

To  pass  on  and  enter  the  winter  wood 
alone  is  a  difi"erent  thing.  It  is  like 
going  into  a  cathedral  when  it  is  empty, 
and  the  organ  is  still.  There  are  the 
mighty  arches  springing  from  pillars  that 
run  straight  and  tall  to  a  vault  of  blue. 
There  is  the  softened  Hght  that  rests  the 
eye  and  the  silence  that  rests  the  spirit. 
Everywhere  is  a  faint  perfume  as  from  a 
censor  swung  in  a  distant  chancel  by  an 
unseen  priest.  Yes,  it  is  Hke  going  into 
a  cathedral  that  is  empty. 

There  is  no  Sunday  feeling  about  it, 
though.  The  Sunday  feeling  is  a  thing 
apart.  We  all  know  it.  It  is,  perhaps, 
a  thing  evolved  in  the  mind  from  external 
conditions  belonging  to  the  day — the 
closing  of  shops  and  stilling  of  traffic, 
the  ringing  of  bells  (not  the  joyous,  but 
the  monotonous,  sonorous  ringing),  the 
stopping  of  ordinary  toil,  the  encasing 
of  one's  body  in  garments  of  little  ease, 
and  one's  mind  into  certain  grooves  of 
thought.  \^Tiatever  causes  this  peculiar 
Sunday  feeling,  we  do  not  take  it  with  us 
into  the  temple  not  made  mth  hands. 
Yet  those  who  walk  the  aisles  where  the 
wind  blows  free,  and  the  sun,  moon  and 
stars  have  leave  to  send  their  chequered 
light,  walk  there  very  near  to  the  unseen 
things  that  are  real,  and  very  far  from  the 
material  things  that  vanish  awav. 


A   GROUP   OP   KLOOTCHMEN   JL\KING   BASKETS  AT   THE   INDIAN    CAMP  ON    THE   FRASER   RIVER. 

THE   SQUAW   ON    THE   RIGHT  IS   AT   WORK   ON  A    PAPOOSE    (baBY)    BASKET. 

A    COMPLETED   P.\POOSE    BASKET   IS   ATTACHED   TO 

THE  POLE    OF   THE    TENT 

Photograph  by  Okamura 

An  Ancient  Art  Modernised 


Bx  MARGARET  EADIE  HEXDERSON 


Basketry,  an  art  practised  in  the  time  oj  Moses^  is  now  a  flourishing 
industry  amons^st  Indian  tribes  in  British  Columbia 


jX  a  basket  or  ark  of  bul- 
rushes, idly  floating  upon 
the  bosom  of  the  Nile,  re- 
posed the  infant  Moses, 
smiling,  unconscious  of  the 
peril  that  threatened  his  baby  existence. 
Virgil,  describing  in  glowing  words 
the  golden  couches,  with  cushions  of 
purple,  upon  which  reclined  the  guests 
at  Queen  Dido's  stately  banquet,  given 
in  honour  of  the  return  of  .Eneas  from 
the  ten  years'  conflict  at  the  Trojan  siege, 

421 


does  not  disdain  to  describe  the  osier 
baskets*  in  which  the  bread  was  served 
at  this  historic  feast. 

The  rude  Briton,  with  no  prophetic 
vision  of  the  watercraft  of  his  posterity, 
fashioned  of  osiers,  with  slime  and  ^^^th 
pitch,  the  coracles  which,  baskets  though 
they  were,  expressed  his  conception  of 
the  strength  of  his  country's  defences. 

Basket-making,  therefore,  may  rightly 


*  Cereremque  canistris  expediunt. 
I,  line  701. 


-jEneid 


4^22 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


be  held  in  honour  for  its  antiquity;  it  may 
claim  consideration  also  because  it  is  an 
art  in  which  the  first  crude  ideas  of  form, 
of  symmetry  and  of  artistic  design,  la- 
tent in  the  native  mind,  find  a  vehicle  for 
expression. 

In  the  different  forms  of  basketry  is 
embodied  a  certain  degree  of  knowledge 
of  the  principles  of  art,  and  real  beauty 
may  be  discerned  in  the  baskets  cunningh- 
fashioned  by  dusky  hands,  while  other 
expressions  of  their  ideas  of  art  do  not 
appeal  to  us  at  all.  For  example,  the 
grotesque  carving  of  a  Totem-pole,  to 
the  Indian  of  the  Pacific  coast  an  ob- 
ject of  pride  and  of  religious  adoration, 
to  us  merely  signifies  that  a  confused 
group  of  indefinite  forms  are  struggling 
in  his  mind  to  find  expression,  but  that 
the  mind  and  the  eye,  alike  untrained, 
are  unable  to  give  to  each  form  its  due 
proportion  and  value,  the  result  being  a 
confused  arrangement  of  composite  forms. 

■Most  of  the  tribes  of  North  .American 
Indians  practise  some  form  of  basket- 
making.  With  the  opening  up  of  our 
primeval  forests  and  the  exploring  of  our 
moimtain    fastnesses,    however,    the    In- 


dians have  silently  retired  to  their  re- 
serves, usually  so  remote  from  the  busy 
haunts  of  men  that  their  work  is  rarely 
inspected,  except  by  the  Indian  agents 
who  provide  for  the  necessities  of  these 
wards  of  the  government,  by  the  mis- 
sionary, the  teacher  and  the  priest,  who 
lay  special  stress  upon  manual  training 
in  the  system  of  education  planned  for 
these  children  of  our  aboriginal  races. 
As  the  genius  of  the  Indian  is  imitative 
rather  than  constructive,  the  wisdom  of 
this  mode  of  training  is  evident. 

Dwellers  on  the  Pacific  coast,  how- 
ever, are  brought  much  into  contact 
with  the  native  races.  Early  in  July 
the  salmon  fishing  begins,  and  from  their 
reserves  in  the  interior  the  Indians,  or 
Siwashes,  as  they  are  locally  called,  to 
the  third  generation  come  down  to  the 
coast  to  await  the  run  of  sockeyes,  whilst 
the  women,  or  Klootchmen,  obtain  em- 
ployment in  the  canneries. 

With  them  they  bring  the  basketry 
upon  which  the\-  have  been  engaged 
during  the  winter,  to  sell  or  barter  as 
may  seem  to  them  the  more  profitable. 
Formerlv  the  Siwashes  had  so  little  idea 


SPECIMEXS  OF  THE  BASKETRY  OF  THE  ALBERXI  TRIBES   OF  BRITISH  COLUMBIA. 
BASKET   IS    THE   WORK    OF    THOMPSON"    RIVER    INDIANS 


THE    TRUNK 


I 


AX    A.\(  li:.\  r    AK'I'    MODERNISED 


423 


CHARACTERISTIC    BASKETRY   OF    THE    ERASER    RIVER    INDIAN s,       A    IKUNK,    A    LARGE 
ROUND    BASKET   AND    A   VALISE 


-PECIMENS   OF   THE   EARLIER    DESIGNS   IN   BASKETRY   USED   BY   BRITISH   COLUMBIA  INDIAN: 
ON    THE    LEFT  IS   AN    OLLILLIE   BASKET;    IN    THE   UPPER    CENTRE,    A   BASKET 
DECORATED    WITH    S\'MBOLIC    DESIGNS;    TO    THE    RIGHT,  AN 
OLD    WATER    CONT.\INER 


424 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


IXniAN   BASKETRY   EXHIBITED    AT   DOMINION    EXHIBITION    AT 

NEW   WESTMINSTER.      NEAR    THE    TOP   IS   A    TABLE 

MADE   WHOLLY    OF   WOVEN    CEDAR   ROOT 

Photograph   by  Okaviura 


of  the  value  of  this  work,  that  the  pro- 
duct of  jnonths  of  toil  was  often  bar- 
tered for  a  trifle.  But  the  great  durabil- 
ity oi  these  baskets,  the  excellence  of 
their  workmanship,  their  beautiful  de- 
signs and  tasteful  ornamentation,  have 
elicited  so  much  admiration  that  a  value 
now  attaches  to  this  type  of  basketry  in 
some  degree  commensurate  with  the 
labour  expended  upon  its  production, 
and  the  collecting  of  Indian  baskets  has 
become  a  fad  so  uni\'ersal  as  to  suggest 
the  tulip  craze  in  Holland  three  cen- 
turies ago. 

In  the  American  cities  on  the  Pacific 
coast  high  prices  are  paid  for  this  bas- 
ketr}-.  a  fine  trunk  basket  being  worth 
from  fifteen  to  fifty  dollars,  while  a  small 
basket  in  lace-work  pattern  is  not  un- 
frequently  sold  for  ten  dollars,  the  price 
being  determined  by  the  quality  of  the 
work  and  by  the  intricacy  and  beauty  of 
the  decorative  scheme. 

Though   there   are   different   tribes   or 


distinct"  races  of  British 
Columbia  Indians,  the 
basket-makers  may  be 
said  to  belong  either  to 
the  Alberni  tribe,  some- 
times called  the  Xootka 
Sound  Indians,  or  to  the 
West  Coast  Indians, 
better  known  as  the 
Fraser  River  Indians,  a 
branch  of  the  SaHsh  stock. 
The  work  of  the  Fraser 
River  Indians  is  much 
sought  after  on  account 
of  its  great  durability. 
Baskets  made  in  the  year 
1S58  have  retained  their 
shape  and  colour  so  per- 
fectly as  to  be  scarcely 
distinguishable  from  the 
work  of  yesterday,  though 
the  basketry  of  later  date 
is  marked  by  a  distinct 
advance  in  grace  of  out- 
line, and  in  the  beaut\- 
of  the  conventional  de- 
signs for  decoration. 

The  different  tribes  of 
basket-makers  employ  the 
same  materials  for  their 
work,  a  variety  of  results  being  obtainable 
from  dift'erent  methods  of  use.  It  is 
well  known  that  the  Indians  are  versed 
in  the  properties  of  the  trees  and  shrubs 
of  their  native  forests,  and  the  tough, 
phable  roots  of  the  cedar  they  have  dis- 
covered to  be  best  adapted  for  the  strong, 
firm  basketry  for  which  the  British  Col- 
umbia Indians  are  so  celebrated. 

The  weaving  is  done  by  the  women, 
but  the  materials  are  prepared  by  the 
men  of  the  tribes.  For  the  frame-work 
of  the  basketry  tough  root  cedar  is  used, 
and  for  the  weaving  cedar  roots  are 
carefully  peeled  and  cut  into  smooth, 
even  strips  from  three  to  four  feet  in 
length,  about  a  quarter  of  an  inch  wide,  and 
a  sixteenth  or  an  eighth  of  an  inch  thick. 
The  smaller  roots  are  similarly  pre- 
pared, and  bundles  or  sheaves  contain- 
ing from  eight  to  thirteen,  or  more,  of 
these  fibres  are  strongly  bound  by  the 
weaving  strip  to  the  frame-work  of  the 
basket. 


AN    ANCIENT    ART    MODERNISED 


425 


Their  tools  are  few — a  strong  knife 
constantly  at  use,  both  for  cutting  and 
as  a  planer,  and  a  sharp  stiletto-like  tool 
for  piercing  the  warp  or  foundation  of 
the  work,  to  admit  the  pointed  end  of 
the  smoothed  and  polished  weaving 
strip.  The  skookum  (strong)  part  of 
the  work  being  completed,  infinite  pains 
is  taken  with  the  work  of  encasing  the 
frame  with  a  polished  outer  coat. 

Tough  grasses  bleached  white  are 
woven  upon  the  frame-work,  stitch  by 
stitch,  giving  the  regular  effect  of  the 
grains  of  an  ear  of  corn.  The  rich, 
brown  bark  of  the  wild  cherry  is  used 
effectively  in  the  decoration  scheme,  a 
touch  of  variety  being  given  by  staining 
a  portion  of  the  bark  black  with  a  dye 
whose  intensity  only  deepens  %vith  age. 
From  these  limited  resources  the  patient 
fingers  of  the  Klootchmen  evolve  forms 
remarkable,  not  less  for  their  artistic 
grace  than  for  their  charming  variety. 
An  admirable  feature  of  this  basketry 
is  the  pains  bestowed  upon  every  detail 
of  the  work.  The  quality  to  which  the 
weavers  attach  most  importance  is 
strength,  which  they  endeavour  to  com- 
bine with  beauty  of  workmanship. 

Even  in  minor  details  this  point  is  not 
overlooked.  The  handles,  made  of  deer- 
skin, are  firmly  secured  in  position,  and 
on  this  foundation  the  flexible  cedar 
strips  are  dexterously  woven,  and  are 
ornamented  with  a  design  correspond- 
ing to  the  decoration  of  the  basket. 

The  oldest  design  of  the  Eraser  River 
basketr}'  is  the  ollillie  (berry)  basket,  in 
shape  an  inverted  square  pyramid,  much 
ingenuity  being  shown  in  varying  the 
arrangement  of  black  and  brown  in  the 
scheme  of  ornamentation.  Many  of 
these  ^^ ollillie"  baskets  are  quite  water- 
tight, and  are  used  as  w^ater  containers. 
When  filled  with  ollillies,  the  baskets  are 
carried  upon  the  backs  of  the  Klootch- 
men, and  are  firmly  held  in  position  by 
a  finely  woven  strap  fastened  about 
the  head. 

The  weaving  of  the  Albemi  Indians 
is  remarkable  for  a  certain  characteristic 
grace,  due  to  their  materials  being  cut 
into  ver)'  fine  strips.  Thus  they  are 
able  to  make  baskets  of  lace-Hke  fine- 
ness, among  the  products  of  their  skill 

2 


being  exquisitely  woven  fruitstands,  flask 
cases  with  removable  tops,  photograph 
baskets,  card  receivers  with  beautifully 
curved  pedestals,  field-glass  cases,  and 
baskets  shaped  like  Pompeiian  vases. 

The  Albemi  and  the  Sechelt  Indians 
employ  red,  yellow,  blue  and  green  pig- 
ments to  stain  the  fibre  used  in  orna- 
menting the  baskets,  the  colours  being 
employed  sparingly  and  effectively. 

As  for  the  basketry  of  the  tribes  in 
the  interior,  birch-bark  is  principally 
used,  though  baskets  made  of  coils  or 
plaits  of  sage-brush  and  Eloeagnus  bark 
are  occasionally  seen.  The  woven  bas- 
ketr}'  of  splints  is  made  chiefly  by  the 
Thompson  River  and  Lillooet  tribes, 
and  to  a  less  extent  by  the  Chilcotins  and 
Shuswaps.  The  style  is  known  as 
''coiled,"  and  is  similar  to  what  in  Wash- 
ington State  is  known  as  Klickitat  bas- 
ketry. The  chief  seats  of  the  industry 
are  the  districts  of  Coldwater  River, 
Lower  Lillooet  River  and  the  Eraser 
River  Canyon.  Spruce  root  is  used  in 
the  basketry  of  the  Chilcotins  and  Shus- 
wap  Indians,  cedar-root  being  used  by 
the  Thompsons  and  the  Lillooets. 

Eor  ornamentation,  these  tribes  u^e 
grasses  and  bird  cherry  bark,  which  are 
frequently  dyed  various  coloiu-s.  The 
designs  for  ornamentation  are  usually 
S}Tnbolic,  and  being  either  animal  or 
geometric,  are  often  both  novel  and 
artistic. 

The  types  of  the  basketry  of  the  in- 
terior are  of  quite  different  workmanship 
and  design  from  those  of  the  Pacific 
coast. 

From  very  ancient  times  the  Indians 
of  British  Columbia  have  made  this 
characteristic  basketr}-,  but  it  is  not 
known  whether  the  art  originated  among 
themselves,  or  was  introduced  from  with- 
out. It  is  possible  that  all  primitive 
peoples  possess  such  rudimentary  prin- 
ciples of  art  as  are  applied  to  the  fashion- 
ing of  an  object,  whether  carved  from 
wood  or  modelled  in  clay,  or  hewn  from 
stone;  but  since  the  artistic  instinct  dif- 
fers both  in  bent  and  in  degree,  the  work 
of  each  tribe  has  a  style  of  its  own,  the 
feature  of  distinctiveness  being  still  fur- 
ther emphasised  by  the  taste  of  each 
worker,  so  that  each  piece  bears  a  dis- 


426 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


tinct  character,  the  unmistakable  style  of 
the  individual  weaver. 

Though  in  collections  of  Indian  curios 
fine  specimens  of  native  basketry  may 
be  seen,  some  of  the  finest  pieces  of 
v^^ork  are  hawked  from  door  to  door,  and 
are  sold  for  much  or  little,  according  to 
the  eagerness  of  the  purchaser,  or  the 
need  of  the  vendor.  If  a  Klootchman 
\vishes  to  sell  for  money,  she  simply 
states  her  price,  and  if  a  sale  can  not  be 
made,  she  departs  with  a  kind  "Good- 
bye." 

Often,  however,  she  prefers  to  ex- 
change her  basketry  for  "iktahs,"  a 
flexible  term,  including  in  its  scope 
articles  of  clothing,  knick-knacks  of  any 
kind,  articles  that  are  portable  and  arti- 
cles that  are  not  portable.  As  the  pro- 
cess of  bartering,  interesting  as  it  may  be 
to  the  novice,  is  apt  to  prove  tedious  to 
the  experienced  trader,  the  Klootchmen 
sit  down  upon  the  grass,  and  leisurely 
inspect  each  article  offered  to  them. 
Should  the  object  submitted  for  their 
inspection  be  not  approved,  it  is  pushed 
aside  contemptuously.  Occasionally  they 
laugh  obstreperously,  as  some  unusually 
unsuitable  article  is  offered,  gaudy  mil- 
linen,'  exciting  much  mirth.  In  spite  of 
their  criticisms,  the  miUinery  is  even- 
tually accepted,  probably  to  be  bestowed 
upon  such  dusky  damsels  as  would  fain 
be  emancipated  from  the  wearing  of  the 
red  or  yellow  or  purple  handkerchiefs 
which  form  their  characteristic  head- 
gear. 

Each  "iktah,"  when  accepted,  is  laid 
aside,  and  is  assessed  by  the  Klootch- 
men at  so  low  a  value,  that  when  the 
barter  is  completed,  such  an  amount  of 
'  clothing  and  other  articles  ^is  heaped  up 
as  must  greatly  tax  the  capacity  of  the 
government  vessel,  upon  which  at  the 
end  of  the  fishing  season  the  Indians 
embark  to  return  to  their  reserves.  But 
the  basket  represents  the  toil  of  many 
months,  and  the  estimate  placed  upon 
the  work  is  not  excessive. 

If  the  "iktahs"  are  approved  by  other 
Klootchmen  of  the  tribe,  the  fortunate 
possessor  of  the  basketry  may  be  visited 
by  other  vendors,  whose  demands  may 
include  "muckamuck"  (food),  kitchen 
utensils   chairs,  and,  lastly,  soap! — a  re- 


quest rarely,  if  ever,  disregarded  by  the 
would-be  purchaser.  Another  careful 
reckoning  of  the  "iktahs,"  another  de- 
mand or  two,  and  with  a  gesture  of  in- 
finite condescension,  the  basket  is  pushed 
towards  the  buyer,  who  triumphantly 
adds  another  trophy  to  her  collection 
of  curios. 

And  now  the  basket  may  be  inspected 
at  leisure.  At  the  first  glance  these 
specimens  of  basketry  suggest  to  the 
artistic  eye  symmetrically  woven  forms, 
ornamented  with  regularly  interwoven 
bands  of  shining  brown  and  glossy  black. 

On  one  basket  the  rich  brown  bark  of 
the  wild  cherry  has  described  a  perfect 
Greek  fret  design.  The  symmetrical 
spirals  that  adorn  the  upright  sides  of 
an  octagonal  basket  tray  have  defined 
an  Ionic  volute.  The  gleaming  white- 
ness of  a  third  basket  is  relieved  only  by 
interlaced  Roman  crosses,  outhned  in 
brown,  the  work  of  a  devoted  worshipper 
at  the  little  white  Roman  Catholic  church, 
where  the  picturesquely  clad  Siwashes 
perform  their  devotions. 

It  may  be  that  while  in  her  basketry 
she  wove  the  sacred  symbol  of  her  faith, 
her  heart's  devotion  was  woven  with  it, 
for  surely  it  was  a  true  missionary  spirit 
that  prompted  the  question:  "Tillicum 
(friend),  you  Catholic?"  A  reply  in 
the  negative  caused  a  look  of  disap- 
pointment to  cloud  her  face,  when  think- 
ing she  may  have  been  misunderstood, 
she  held  up  her  scapular,  as  if  to  make 
her  meaning  more  clear. 

WTien,  however,  she  learned  that  her 
"tilHcum,"  though  not  a  Catholic,  at- 
tends church,  a  look  of  intelligence 
illumined  the  dusky  face,  as  she  added: 
"Halo  (not)  Catholic,  but  one  Heaven 
allee  samee." 

At  the  Indian  encampment  on  the 
banks  of  the  Eraser,  very  beautiful 
specimens  of  the  basket-making  art 
may  be  seen.  Within  the  openings  of 
their  tents,  for  they  rarely  "sport  their 
oaks,"  the  Klootchmen  are  at  work, 
quite  willing  to  give  the  visitor  a  lesson 
in  the  handicraft  of  which  they  are 
masters.  But,  though  one  watches  with 
absorbing  interest  the  successive  steps 
by  which  their  artistic  conception  finds 
expression,    the    lesson    is    not    learned. 


The  Recall  of  the  River 

By  DEAN  MACLEOD 


How  a  simple  misunderstanding,  causing  serious    estrangement, 
is  righted  by  the  spell  0}  happy  associations 


TANDING  by  the  tottering 
old  fence  that  separates  the 
roadway  from  the  alluring 
bank,  one  looks  down  oh 
the  winding  river — a  still, 
dark  waterway,  where  the  tree-tops,  rising 
far  above,  and  the  drooping  alder  bushes, 
cast  black  reflections  below.  The  river 
always  flows  on,  in  the  same  placid  way. 
The  wild  fowl  nest  in  its  sedgy  banks; 
the  muskrat's  little  sleek  brown  head 
darts  in  and  out  among  the  yellow  water- 
lilies  and  under  the  spreading,  drooping 
branches,  so  irresistibly  mystic  with 
hidden  life.  Sunbeams  dance  on  its  rip- 
ples; starhght  and  moonlight  waver  on 
its  breast;  breezes  darken  its  surface,  and 
rosy  clouds  of  sunset  glow  in  its  dreamy 
stillness,  while  the  frogs  and  crickets 
frolic  in  a  very  storm  of  joyous  existence. 
But  this  was  a  late  September  afternoon. 
The  blue  mountains  beyond,  which  ran 
to  the  sea,  were  gorgeous  in  patches  of 
crimson  and  gold,  burning  red  in  the  sun- 
light; bare,  rocky  hillsides  gleamed  as 
copper,  and  in  the  middle  distance  a  low, 
flat,  bush-grown  country,  exuberant  in 
overgrown  blueberry  barrens  and  great 
red  clusters  of  pigeon  berries,  stretched 
far  into  a  vdldemess  of  flaming  golden- 
rod  and  purple  Indian  tea. 

Splash!  A  flash  of  drippling  silver 
sparkled  in  the  sun,  and  a  great  spotted 
trout  wavered  and  dropped  with  a  soft 
thud  under  a  moss-grown,  crumbling 
log  into  a  deep,  dark  pool. 

The  sudden  sound  startled  the  man 
and  woman  in  the  bark  canoe,  drifting 
silently  down  stream.  The  woman  idly 
picked  up  the  magazine  she  had  dropped 
and  looked  at  the  pictures  upside  down 
— she  was  thinking.  The  man  rolled 
the  sleeves  of  his  shirt  a  little  higher  and 
puUed  the  brim  of  his  hat  over  his  eyes 
and    began    to    paddle    vigorously.     She 

427 


looked  at  his  brown,  bare  arms  and  thin 
— so  thin — straight  figure,  and  the  tears 
rushed  to  her  eyes.  Why  did  he  work 
so  hard  in  that  close,  hot  oflace?  Money, 
what  was  that?  She  hated  it  and  all 
that  it  could  buy.  Her  beautiful  home, 
the  jewels  and  dresses  that  he  lavished 
upon  her,  which  she  must  seem  pleased 
with  and  pretend  to  like,  all  sickened 
her.  Why  must  men  be  always  so 
stupid?  He  gave  her  a  thousand  things 
she  did  not  want,  and  withheld  the  one 
thing  she  longed  for.  How  joyfully  she 
could  come  back  to  the  little  house  on 
the  river,  to  the  blue  sunbonnet  and  the 
darning  of  Phil's  socks!  She  had  planned 
and  expected  so  much  of  Phil's  man- 
hood, and  it  had  all  ended  this  way.  He 
loved  that  city  life,  where  men  filled 
their  pockets  and  emptied  their  souls. 
He  loved  the  money,  he  liked  slaving 
for  it.  The  jewels  he  bought  her  and 
the  money  she  asked  for  pleased  him. 
If  he  could  only  understand  that  it  was 
not  the  money  she  wanted,  but  just  a 
wild,  desperate  wish  to  anger  him,  to 
hear  him  say  "No,  you  cannot  have  it." 
He  was  so  exasperatingly  solicitous  and 
generous.  Sometimes  when  she  read 
in  the  papers  of  a  husband's  ill-treatment 
of  his  wife,  she  almost  envied  the  wife. 
If  Phil  would  only  beat  her  or  scold  her, 
she  felt  she  could  like  it.  But  he  always 
gave  in,  always  let  her  have  her  own 
way,  no  matter  how  unreasonable.  And 
she  was  not  a  woman  that  enjoyed  hav- 
ing her  o^^^l  way.  She  schemed  some- 
times, yes,  schemed  to  make  him  angry 
with  her.  But  it  was  always  the  same; 
nothing  would  make  him  diS'erent,  yet 
for  mere  nothing  he  would  rail  in  reck- 
less fury  at  a  servant. 

For  some  time  she  had  thought  it  was 
because  he  loved  her,  but  lately  she  had 
suspected  he  was  simply  indifferent,  and 


428 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


that  he  was  tired  of  her.  Often  she 
would  not  see  him  for  days.  She  just 
knew  he  thought  more  of  his  work  than 
of  her.  He  was  finding  her  a  burden. 
He  could  make  more  money  if  she  was 
not  there.  Well,  she  would  trouble  him 
no  longer — she  would  go  away;  at  least, 
she  would  tell  him  so.  Never  for  an  in- 
stant did  she  think  he  would  really  let 
her  go,  for  deep  in  her  heart  she  almost 
knew  he  loved  her.  She  just  wanted  to 
stir  him  up  and  make  him  tell  her  that 
she  was  necessary  in  his  life,  and  she — 
well,  she  looked  at  him  now  and  could 
hardly  smother  that  wild  wish  to  throw 
her  arms  around  his  neck  and  love  him. 
Then  the  thought  of  that  other  day, 
when  he  had  told  her  he  was  willing — 
yes,  his  very  words,  wiUing  that  she 
should  go!  She  remembered  the  scene, 
she  always  would.  She  had  gone  to 
him  with  much  the  same  feeling  that  a 
child  turns  a  worm  over  and  tickles  it 
with  a  straw.  He  had  sat  there  reserved 
and  waiting;  she  had  thought  he  prob- 
ably wondered  if  it  was  to  be  a  new  ring 
or  a  horse.  But  when  she  told  him 
that  she  had  decided  to  make  both  their 
lives  happier  by  a  separation,  and  that 
she  was  going  in  two  days,  he  only  sat 
still  and  looked  at  her.  She  had  almost 
thought  he  turned  white;  but,  of  course, 
she  had  only  imagined  it,  for  when  he 
finally  spoke  his  voice  was  calm,  brut- 
ally calm.  He  said:  "I  have  tried  to 
make  you  happy,  Alice.  I  thought  I 
had  given  you  all  a  woman  could  ask  for, 
but  I  see  I  have  failed.  I  will  not  pre- 
vent you.  I  am  willing  you  should  leave 
me,  if  you  wish  to  do  so." 

As  they  still  moved  along  in  silence, 
she  remembered  how  the  next  day  he 
had  come  to  her  with  a  desperate  resolve 
in  his  whole  attitude,  and  she  had  noted 
triumphantly  that  he  looked  as  if  he  had 
not  slept  at  all.  She  w-as  glad  she  had 
bathed  her  own  eyes.  He  carried  a 
time-table  and  a  calendar.  Then  he 
insisted  that  she  go  with  him  to  Nova 
Scotia  to  settle  their  business  there,  to 
close  up  the  river-house  and  other  prop- 
erty; that  in  a  week,  at  least,  he  would  see 
to  it  that  he  would  not  trouble  her  any 
more  if  she  still  wished  it.  She  had  said 
"Verv  well"  as  calmlv  as  she  could,  and 


turned  quick]}-  to  the  window  that  he 
might  not  see  the  foolish  joy  in  her  eyes. 
"Insisted!"  That  was  what  he  had 
said.  For  the  first  time  in  his  fife  he 
had  ordered  her  to  do  what  he  had  every 
reason  to  believe  was  distasteful  to  her. 
She  had  tried  to  make  herself  beUeve 
she  did  not  want  to  go,  but  her  husband 
had  insisted,  had  ordered  her  to  go,  so 
she  must  do  it.  She  had  felt  almost 
happy.  She  had  doggedly  put  away  the 
thought  that  Phil  would  actually  let  her 
go  at  the  last.  She  had  been  almost 
sure  that  when  they  were  together  there, 
the  old  surroundings  and  memories 
would  bring  it  all  right  again.  She  had 
always  longed  to  get  back,  but  Phil  had 
always  been  "so  busy  in  the  office"  and 
could  not  spend  the  time. 

She  sighed.  Well,  the  week  was  gone 
and  now  it  was  late  afternoon  of  the  last 
day.  Phil  had  not  even  hinted  that  she 
stay  with  him.  He  would  let  her  go, 
she  knew  he  would.  Oh,  how  could 
she  ever  have  said  she  wanted  to  go, 
when  she  loved  him  sol 

She  looked  at  him  again — the  old  gray 
hat  was  in  his  hand — his  dark  hair  was 
rumpled  as  in  the  old  days  when  they 
had  sat  together  on  the  river  bank,  and 
she  had  loved  to  run  her  fingers  through 
it  and  marshal  the  hairs  to  suit  her  wild- 
est fancies.  There  was  a  little  place  on 
top  where  it  would  not  be  coaxed  to  stay 
flat  and  she  had  loved  that  best,  be- 
cause it  was  the  only  obstinate  thing 
about  him.  Phil  used  to  threaten  to 
glue  it  down.  He  could  not  seem  to 
tolerate  the  thought  that  anything  should 
be  contrary  to  her  wishes. 

Phil's  face  was  not  weak.  She  looked 
at  his  chin  and  its  firmness  almost  fright- 
ened her.  It  was  such  a  fine  face,  with 
the  stamp  of  one  who  would  move  for- 
ward irresistibly  and  move  others  with 
him.  And  those  blue-gray  eyes  of  his, 
with  the  clear,  fearless  glance.  She 
could  al^A-ays  trust  Phil.  She  suddenly 
remembered  that  he  had  never  given  her 
cause  to  worry  about  him,  even  to  feel 
a  pang  of  jealousy.  Oh,  she  just  knew 
that  he  would  let  her  go,  for  the  only 
reason  that  he  thought  she  wanted  to 
go!  If  he  would  only  ask  her  to  stay 
with   him — even   suggest   it,   or  at   least 


THE    RECALL    OF    THE    KIVER 


4^29 


give  her  reason  to  think  that  he  minded 
at  all.  If  women  were  the  weaker  sex, 
men  certainly  were  the   blinder. 

The  canoe  still  glided  slowly  through 
the  rushes.  She  wondered  if  he  would  kiss 
her  when  they  said  good-bye  to-morrow. 
Then  she  almost  laughed  at  the  idea. 
Of  course  he  wouldn't.  Man  and  wo- 
man kissed  each  other  only  when  they 
loved  each  other.  At  least,  she  loved 
him.  Of  course  he  wouldn't,  because 
he  didn't  love  her.  Anyway,  if  he  loved 
her  he  would  not  let  her  go.  It  had  been 
a  long,  long  time  since  Phil  had  kissed  her 
and  told  her  he  loved  her.  Indeed,  she  had 
been  stupid,  blind,  not  to  have  known, 
to  have  seen,  that  he  did  not  care  for 
her  any  longer.  A  guilty  flush  went  over 
her  cheeks  when  she  thought  of  the 
man}'  nights  she  had  stolen  to  his  room 
when  he  slept  and  had  stood  at  the  door 
and  pretended  to  kiss  him,  imagining 
the  sensation  of  her  lips  on  his.  Or  at 
breakfast,  when  he  looked  worried  and 
tired,  she  would  pretend  that  she  got  up 
and  went  softly  to  his  chair  and  kissed 
him  just  where  that  line  wrinkled  when 
he  laughed.  What  would  he  have  done 
if  she  had  dared  to  do  it?  But  no,  she 
would  never  kiss  a  man  who  merely 
tolerated  her  because  she  happened  to 
be  his  wife. 

Now  it  was  Phil's  turn  to  soliloquise. 
If  he  had  not  happened  to  go  to  the 
river-house  that  morning,  he  would  not 
have  had  so  much  to  think  about.  Just 
the  thought  of  his  experience  there 
started  the  blood  coursing  wildly  through 
his  veins,  and  a  look  of  half-bewilder- 
ment, half-pain  and  then  contentment 
was  in  his  eyes,  and  he  began  again  to 
think  it  all  over  for  the  fortieth  time. 

He  had  gone  to  have  one  more  look 
at  the  little  place — their  Arcadia — and 
found  his  old  gray  hat  hanging  beside 
her  sunbonnet  behind  the  door.  He  had 
just  put  the  hat  on  and  was  going  to  put 
the  sunbonnet  in  his  pocket,  when  he 
saw  through  the  window  the  flutter  of 
her  blue  dress. 

To  have  met  her  there  would  have 
been  awful.  A  fellow  has  to  have  some 
pride  when  his  wiie  refuses  to  live  with 
him.  He  wasn't  going  to  play  the  baby 
to    her.     Anvwav,    how    could    he    have 


known  she  was  going  to  stay  ?  So  he 
stepped  behind  a  curtain.  He  had  heard 
her  come  in,  and  for  a  time  all  was  silent. 
He  was  wondering  if  she,  too,  was  think- 
ing of  those  first  two  happy  years.  He 
had  trusted  so  much  to  this  return  to  old 
memories.  But  now  the  week  was  gone, 
and  Alice  had  not  seemed  to  care  at  all. 
She  would  not  even  leave  the  hotel  to 
come  here  with  him  yesterday.  And 
just  as  he  w^as  thinking  what  the  coming 
days  and  years  would  be  without  her— 
he  heard  her  sob.  Jove  I  Was  that 
Alice — and  crying — and  in  his  chair,  too 
— the  big  leather  one — dust  and  all,  and 
hugging  an  old  pair  of  his  boots  and  an 
ancient  tobacco-pouch,  with  the  old  blue 
sunbonnet  on  her  head! 

He  had  always  hated  to  see  Peggy  cry. 
Peggy  I  The  old  name  had  come  nat- 
urally there.  What  an  ass  he  had  been 
to  get  behind  that  curtain.  Then  she  had 
started  talking  to  them,  to  the  boots 
and  the  tobacco-pouch  and  the  bonnet. 
And  the  things  she  told  them  between 
tears  and  kisses — how  much  she  loved 
him,  and  if  he  would  only  ask  her  not 
to  go;  that  she  hated  diamonds  and  furs 
and  dresses.  Here  he  pulled  his  hair  to 
see  if  he  surely  was  not  dreaming.  .Alice 
hated  the  jewels  he  had  slaved  to  buy 
for  her.  He  had  thought  all  women 
liked  such  things.  She  had  certainly 
seemed  pleased  and  happy  over  them, 
and  that  was  all  he  had  cared  for.  He 
had  been  glad  to  work  and  worrv'  to  buy 
Alice  a  new  ring  or  a  gown,  and  now  she 
was  teUing  that  ridiculous  bonnet  that 
if  thev  had  only  both  stayed  here  with  it 
— meaning  the  bonnet — that  he — mean- 
ing himself — would  never  have  got  so 
crazy  about  money  and  things  and  got 
to  hate  her. 

The  idea  that  he,  Philip  Terry,  loved 
money  for  its  owti  sake  had  so  staggered 
him  that  he  had  forgotten  to  listen  until 
she  sobbingly  told  the  boots:  "If  he 
would  only  ever,  ever  scold  me  or  tell  me 
not  to  do  things  I  didn't  like  or  didn't 
just  let  me  do  every  single  thing  I  wanted 
to,  I  could  have  stood  it.'' 

Could  have  stood  it  I  Now  that  he 
knew  the  truth  he  could  laugh  to  think 
of  his  beautiful  Alice  tolerating  the  de- 
spised jewels  if  he  would  scold  her  into 


430 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


wearing  them.  What  an  idiot,  what  a 
blind  fool  he  had  been! 

He  sat  there,  completely  wrapped  in 
the  past,  so  when  the  canoe  ran  agrotmd 
in  shallow  water  he  gave  the  paddle 
with  a  laugh  to  Alice. 

"Your  turn.  Peg,"  for  in  the  old  days 
it  had  been  their  way  to  take  turns  with 
the  paddle  when  one  ran  ashore  or 
missed  stroke. 

Then  he  dreamed  again. 

He  wondered  if  Alice  remembered  the 
old  raft  of  the  childhood  days,  and  the 
day  he  crawled  out  to  the  farthest  edge 
to  get  her  a  lily  she  wanted — he  had 
tumbled  in  right  there  under  that  old 
dead  beech  tree.  She  had  stood  on  the 
bank  and  screamed  in  terror  and  even 
started  in  after  him;  but  when  he  was 
safe  on  the  bank  she  called  him  names 
like  '"stupid"  and  "clumsy"  and  made 
him  make  a  fire  to  dry  his  own  clothes 
and  her  little  shoes.  She  always  wore 
such  pretty  little  shoes,  he  remembered, 
especially  a  pair  of  red  ones  with  buckles 
on  them,  and  her  little  skirts  always  had 
so  many  frills  and  such  rows  of  lace. 
What  a  chump  he  was,  not  to  forget  all 
those  things!  One  thing  he  would  never 
forget  or  cease  to  regret,  and  that  was 
the  heaven  of  happiness  he  had  missed 
in  these  last  eight  years.  But  he  was 
constituted  to  remember  and  to  remem- 
ber with  all  his  soul  those  days  and 
nights  when  that  perpetual  ache  of  long- 
ing and  hopeless  eflfort  to  forget  became 
almost  unbearable.  One  moment  by 
the  silent,  sunlit,  sleeping  river  as  in  the 
old  dear  days,  was  worth  years  of  that  life. 

He  hadn't  yet  decided  what  course  to 
take.  He  always  used  to  be  an  irre- 
sponsible chap,  letting  things  work  out 
themselves,  and  he  was  tempted  to  do 
it  now.  But  things  must  hurry.  He 
couldn't  wait  much  longer;  he  had  been 
kept  from  his  own  long  enough.  His 
eyes  feasted  on  her  face,  she  must  have 
been  conscious  of  his  gaze,  for  a  deep 
red  crept  up  over  her  cheeks  and  she 
suddenly  steered  the  canoe  into  the  old 
landing-place  and  picked  up  her  coat, 
a  flimsy  lace  thing  with  bows  all  over  it, 
and  prepared  to  step  out.  The  canoe 
slushed  through  the  river  grasses  and 
scraped  on  the  sandy  shore. 


His  mind  was  suddenly  made  up. 

"My  say,  Peggy,  you  ran  ashore.  I 
choose  to  go  back  and  have  tea  in  the 
shanty."  He  grasped  the  paddle  and 
before  she  could  speak  was  out  in  mid- 
stream. 

"Philip,  take  me  ashore  at  once.  I — 
I  have  some  packing  to  do.  I  have  de- 
cided to  take  the  night  train." 

Then  there  was  a  silence,  so  she  must 
say  something  or  he  would  know — at 
least  think — that  she  hked  this — this 
carrying  her  off  without  as  much  as  a 
"by-your-leave." 

"May  I  ask  what  you  propose  to  eat 
in — in  the  house?" 

He  laughed  gaily. 

"You  may.  There  is  a  basket  under 
my  coat,  and  in  the  basket  are  some  bis- 
cuits, blueberry  jam  and  cold  salmon, 
also  coffee,  and  there  is  a  magazine  for 
you  to  read  to  me  while  I  smoke  an 
after-dinner  pipe." 

How  did  he  get  that  Iimch  and  why? 
It  was  one  of  his  old  ways  to  surprise 
her  that  way.  Fish  and  jam — that  was 
a  Phil  idea  for  all  the  world.  Well,  if 
he  could  joke  and  bring  up  old  memo- 
ries on  this  day  she  needn't  care.  They 
were  nearing  the  house  now,  and  what 
should  she  do?  She  could  not  bear  to 
go  in  and  see  it  all  the  same,  yet  so  dif- 
ferent. And  for  the  last  time,  too!  What 
excuse  could  she  make?  Perhaps  it 
would  be  better  to  just  go  and  brave  it 
out.  If  she  attempted  excuses,  he 
might  suspect  the  real  reason — and  any- 
thing but  that.  Phil  looked  so  natiu-al 
there,  and  it  all  seemed  just  as  it  used 
to,  with  all  the  bright  blue  summer  day 
to  dispose  of  at  will. 

"What  time  is  it,  Phil?"  she  asked, 
indifferently. 

He  looked  at  the  sun  and  the  shadows 
reflectively. 

".\bout  six.  I  hope  you  are  not  hun- 
gry, Peggy,  for  I  am  going  to  take  you 
to  the  bridge  and  back  before  tea." 

Then  as  an  afterthought — 

"Would  you  like  to  go?" 

"You  are  rather   late    in  asking  me." 

"I  had  not  intended  to  ask  you." 

"Oh!" 

That  same  little  dizzy  flutter  quiv- 
ered in  her  head  as  on  the  day  he  told 


MY    IIEAVKX 


431 


her  he  insisted  she  come  lo  Xova  Scotia 
with  him,  and  again  she  covered  her 
eyes  to  hide  the  hght  in  them. 

"Of  course,  if  you  don't  want — " 

"No — no,  I'll  go,"  she  broke  in  has- 
tily. 

Why  did  he  have  to  spoil  it  ? 

When  they  came  back  to  the  shanty 
and  he  helped  her  step  from  the  canoe, 
he  kept  his  hand  on  hers  for  a  few  steps. 

She  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  His 
face  was  quite  white,  and  he  trembled. 

"Phil — what  is  it,  are  you  ill?" 

She  was  all  concern.  He  turned  red 
then. 

"Oh,  no;  I'm  all  right,"  he  ventured, 
trying  to  conceal  his  emotion. 

They  ate  supper  together,  much  like 
they  had  used  to  in  the  earlier  days,  but 
Peggy  was  pensive,  and  when  the  time 
came  to  put  away  the  things — for  the 
last  time! — tears  welled  up  in  her  eyes. 

Phil  nailed  up  some  loose  boards  on 
the  verandah  and  split  wood  for  next 
morning's  fire.  Just  as  if  they  would 
ever  need  it!  Then  he  called  Peggy 
out,  and  giving  her  his  tobacco  and 
pouch,  bade  her  prepare  his  smoke  just 
as  she  had  used  to. 

They  sat  down  on  the  grassy  knoll. 

"I — I  think  I  have  forgotten  how," 
she  stammered. 

"I'll  teach  you  again,  then,  for  you 
■will  need  to  know — now.'' 


She  did  not  grasp  his  meaning,  but 
sat  quietly  and  filled  his  pipe  as  she  used 
to  do.  When  she  gave  it  to  him  with  a 
.smile,  his  fingers  closed  over  hers  in  the 
same  old  way.     Then  she  drew  apart. 

He  sat  and  looked  at  her — a  look  in 
his  eyes  as  of  a  man  who  suddenly  sees 
drawing  nearer  and  nearer  the  thing  he 
has  long,  vainly  prayed  for. 

The  sunset  deepened  and  the  twilight 
came —still  they  sat  there  in  silence. 
Across  the  flat  came  the  tinkle  of  cow- 
bells and  a  dog  barked  again  and  again 
at  his  own  echo.  The  warm  night- wind 
fanned  the  light  from  Phil's  pipe  and  it 
shone  on  Peggy's  face,  strained  and  pale 
with  thoughts  of  the  separation  that 
meant  life  so  utterly  empty  and  forlorn. 
Nothing  mattered,  nothing,  if  he  would 
only  love  her  again.  And  now  he  was 
reaching  out  and  taking  both  her  hands  in 
his.  They  sat  face  to  face,  hers  slightly 
lifted,  her  lips  set  firm,  almost  defiant,  as 
they  looked  at  each  other  in  silence.  In 
her  eyes  was  the  look  of  a  Roman  who 
had  waited  all  these  years,  craving,  hop- 
ing, praying,  and  now,  suddenly,  in  some 
unexplained  way,  as  she  threw  her  arms 
about  his  neck,  she  knew  that  they  had 
come  back  to  each  other  with  the  recall 
of  the  river. 

The  whistle  of  the  night-train  sounded 
clear  across  the  flat,  but  they  did  not 
hear  it. 


My  Heaven 


BY   T.    MURIEL   MERRILL 


A     WONDROUS  ^s-ind  hath  come  from  out  the  west. 

Carrying  sweet  perfumes  on  its  wa>^vard  quest; 
Warm  the  sunshine  laughs  in  yonder  glade, 
Then  strays  beyond  to  quiet  woodland  shade; 
Ripples  the  breast  of  silent  forest  pool, 
Half  hidden  'neath  the  hemlocks,  dark  and  cool. 
And  thou  art  here,  and  there,  and  all  around. 
Where  e'er  I  glance  thy  presence  dear  is  found; 
I  live  and  love  and  loving  Uve  for  thee. 
Ah,  this  my  heaven,  and  thou  my  God  shalt  be! 


Canadian  Nationality 


B\<  IRA  A.  MACKAY 


To  the  world,  Canada  is  still  a  dependent  colony,  possessing, 
howe^'er,  a  clear  destiny  to  be  worked  out 


WAS  sitting  chatting  with  a 
friend  one  summer  day,  four 
years  ago,  on  the  steps  of  the 
Capitol  at  Washington.  Our 
conversation  was  on  the  sub- 
ject of  national  emblems.  By  degrees 
we  came  around  to  discuss  the  American 
eagle.  I  think  my  friend  was  a  little 
afraid  lest  I  should  say  something  about 
the  habits,  disposition,  etc.,  of  that  par- 
ticular bird  which  might  have  a  national 
application;  at  any  rate,  he  forestalled 
me  by  rising  quickly  to  his  feet  and  stretch- 
ing out  both  his  arms  hterally  to  their  full 
length,  he  said:  "Why,  this  American 
continent  is  one  vast  eagle  with  two  great 
oceans  for  her  wings."  The  reference 
was  a  little  far-fetched,  I  own,  but  if  you 
will  glance  at  the  map  of  North  America, 
you  will  see  what  he  meant.  The  con- 
versation ended  there,  but  I  did  not  cease 
to  think  about  it.  North  America  is  in- 
deed the  only  progressive  continent  with 
an  ocean  on  each  side.  We  are  the  mid- 
dle continent  in  the  commercial  world. 
This  central  position  alone  gives  us  an  un- 
doubted advantage  over  all  the  others. 
We  in  Canada  are  five  thousand  miles 
nearer  the  Orient,  four  thousand  miles 
nearer  Australia,  five  hundred  miles  nearer 
South  Africa,  than  they  are  in  Europe; 
and  we  have  immediately  to  the  south  of 
us  the  Republic  of  the  United  States, 
by  far  the  most  progressive  of  the  western 
nations.  We  have,  moreover,  the  ter- 
ritory, the  resources,  and  last,  but  not 
least,  the  cold  north  winds  and  winter 
frosts,  which  give  \irility  and  energy  and 
pluck  to  our  people.  If  the  British  Em- 
pire is  to  become  a  great  world-empire, 
with  many  times  its  present  wealth,  in- 
fluence and  power,  can  there  be  any  doubt 
that  the  central  base  of  operations  of  that 
Empire  will  be  right  here  in  Canada  ?  If, 
then,  the  destinies  of  a  world-empire  are 

432 


by  nature  in  our  hands,  it  becomes  us 
well  to  carefully  consider  our  present 
position  in  world-history.  One  hundred 
years  of  Canadian  allegiance  to  the  Brit- 
ish flag,  and  British  institutions,  and 
Britain's  King,  with  many  a  jibe  and 
sneer,  and  many  a  bitter  disappointment, 
has  preserved  for  Britons  everywhere  the 
hope  of  the  Empire,  and  our  hope  is  not 
yet  abated.  Canada,  we  beheve  more  in- 
tensely now  than  ever,  has  certainly  a 
vast  work  to  do  in  the  world's  work  of  the 
future.  Whatever  our  formal  pohtical 
status  may  become,  the  substance  of  our 
destiny  is  clear.  This  conception  of  our 
future  should  of  itself  give  us  courage  and 
hope.  But  let  us  consider  our  present 
political  position  for  a  little. 

We  frequently  hear  it  said  that  Canada 
being  a  self-governing  colony,  is  virtually 
an  independent  nation.  This  is  far  from 
true.  Self-governing  colonies  are  not,  as 
some  people  seem  to  think,  a  new  institu- 
tion in  world-history.  Many  of  the  col- 
onies of  Greece  and  Rome,  in  the  later 
days  of  these  empires,  enjoyed  quite  as 
large  a  measure  of  self-government  in 
matters  of  internal  politics  as  Canada  now 
enjoys.  Moreover,  to  be  a  self-govern- 
ing colony  is  far  from  being  an  independ- 
ent nation. 

In  the  first  place,  all  our  external  rela- 
tions, that  is,  all  our  relations  with  other 
nations,  are  constitutionally  controlled 
from  Westminster,  and  not  from  Ottawa. 
This  of  itself  is  enough  to  forbid  us  the 
right  to  plume  ourselves  as  an  independ- 
ent nation.  We  are  not  a  constitutionally 
sovereign,  self-contained,  independent 
state.  We  do  not,  in  a  word,  count  for 
one  in  the  family  of  nations,  and  our  own 
voice  is  not  heard  in  the  counsels  of  na- 
tions. "Oh,  Canada,  go  away  back  and 
sit  down  behind  John  Bull's  coat  tails!" 
That  is  how  the  other  nations  of  the  world 


i 


CANADIAN    NATIONALITY 


433 


largely  feel  towards  us,  and  there  is  no 
use  in  our  blinking  the  fact  any  longer. 

But  if  we  are  not  an  independent  na- 
tion as  regards  our  external  or  interna- 
tional political  relations,  we  are  also  far 
from  being  wholly  so  as  regards  our  in- 
ternal or  domestic  matters  of  government. 
We  have  in  Canada  at  the  present  time 
one  of  the  most  rigid  constitutions  known 
to  political  history.  It  is  true  that  this 
constitution,  that  is,  the  British  North 
America  Act,  is  really  the  product  of 
Canadian  brains,  but  it  is  nominally,  at 
least,  the  product  of  the  Parliament  at 
Westminster.  Under  this  constitution  our 
chief  ruler,  the  Governor-General,  is  an 
appointee  of  the  British  Crown,  and  our 
final  Court  of  Appeal  in  legal  matters  is  a 
British  Court,  in  w-hich  we  have  no  effect- 
ive representation.  These  salient  facts 
alone  mark  us  as  a  dependent  people.  It 
is  largely  in  vain  that  we  insist  that  this 
status  is  more  nominal  than  real;  in  the 
long  run  the  world  will  believe  us  to  be 
what  we  hold  ourselves  out  as  being. 
The  foreign  student  of  history  and  poli- 
tics, knowing  little  or  nothing  about  our 
real  unwritten  status,  bases  his  conclu- 
.sions  exclusively  on  our  nominal  and 
published  status.  In  their  minds  we  are 
dubbed  a  colony,  and  they  seldom  go  be- 
yond the  abstract  term.  Indeed,  not 
manv  vears  have  passed  since  a  "colonial," 
travelling  even  in  the  motherland,  was 
kept  in  pretty  constant  remembrance  of 
his  being  a  colonial. 

But  to  follow  this  question  still  further, 
we  are  not  even  independent  w^ithin  the 
scope  of  the  British  North  America  Act 
itself.  W^e  cjuote  from  an  article  in  the 
Canadian  Law  Review  of  September  and 
October,  1904,  written  by  John  S.  Ewart, 
K.C.,  of  Winnipeg,  one  of  the  leading 
members  of  the  Canadian  Bar,  and  a 
legal  author  of  high  standing.  At 
page  530-31,  Mr.  Ewart  says:  "If  Canada 
wished  to  have  biennial,  instead  of  annual 
Parliaments,  she  could  not  so  enact.  If 
she  wanted  to  take  her  census  every 
twelve  years  instead  of  ten,  she  would  be 
powerless  to  make  the  change.  If  the 
Maritime  Provinces  wished  to  unite  and 
become  one  province,  they  would  be  ad- 
vised that  it  was  impossible.  If  Canada 
wished    to    increase    the    membership    of 


her  Senate,  or  to  decrease  the  qualifica- 
tions for  it,  or  even  to  change  the  quorum 
of  the  House  of  Commons,  her  power 
would  Ije  found  to  be  inadequate.  The 
right  to  make  her  own  coins  is  forbidden 
by  express  statute.  Over  such  a  trifling 
matter  as  the  procedure  to  be  adopted  in 
appropriating  her  own  money,  Canada 
has  no  authority.  And  such  a  necessan,' 
change  of  the  capital  city  as  that  from 
Ottawa  to  Winnipeg  (I  speak  as  a  Win- 
nipegger)  cannot  be  accomplished  by 
unanimous  vote  of  our  Parliament,  our 
Legislatures  and  all  our  people.  West- 
min.ster  can  do  these  things  for  us.  We 
cannot  do  them  ourselves.  Self-govern- 
ment as  to  such  and  many  other  matters 
simply  does  not  exist." 

These  examples  given  by  Mr.  Ewart 
might  be  added  to  almost  indefinitely, 
but  they  are  sufficient  to  make  our  point 
clear.  Canada  is  very  far  indeed  from 
being  an  independent  nation. 

Nor  have  we  any  right  to  comfort  our- 
selves \vith  the  thought  that  our  colonial 
status  is  after  all  merely  a  formal  political 
status.  These  merely  formal  abstract 
political  notions  have  usually  a  very  po- 
tent influence  on  the  affairs  of  men.  Take 
an  illustration:  Suppose  we  draw  two 
imaginary  hnes  across  the  North  Ameri- 
can continent,  one  line  a  hundred  miles 
north  and  the  other  a  hundred  miles 
south  of  the  boundary  line  between  Ca- 
nada and  the  United  States.  As  regards 
soil,  climate  and  natural  resources  these 
two  strips  of  territory  are  almost  identical. 
If  anything,  the  advantage  in  this  respect 
is  with  the  Canadian  strip.  The  only 
difference  is  a  political  one,  and  yet  the 
southern  strip  contains  six  times  the  popu- 
lation and  industry  of  the  other.  So 
much,  at  least,  a  merely  abstract  political 
notion  can  do.  Attracted  by  the  abstract 
dogma  of  political  freedom,  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  the  strong  right  arms  of 
Europe  have  settled  annuallv  in  the  Re- 
public. To  the  minds  of  these  people, 
saturated  as  they  are  with  political  dogma 
and  prejudices,  Canadians  are  a  subject 
people.  It  is  in  vain  that  we  talk  to  them 
of  a  "self-governing  colony."  Of  a  self- 
governing  colony  and  the  political  con- 
ditions which  may  prevail  there,  they  are 
incapable  of  forming  any  intelligent  work- 


434 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


ing  conception.  The  phrase  is  for  them 
a  merely  abstract  contradiction  in  terms. 
Nor  is  it  any  use  to  say  that  their  notion 
of  Canada  is  wrong;  it  is  enough  that  the 
notion  exists  in  order  that  it  may  have  its 
inevitable  effect,  and  until  the  notion  is 
displaced,  much  as  w^e  need  their  help, 
these  people  will  not  come  to  us  to  assist 
us  in  building  up  a  great  people  of  our 
own. 

Now  we  are  not  trying  to  raise  any 
radical  cry  against  British  connection. 
We  still  have  a  keen  affection  for  our 
past.  We  still  love  the  Motherland  as 
dearly  as  ever.  Our  hope  of  a  united 
Empire  never  before  has  been  so  strong 
as  at  present.  We  still  fondly  hope  that 
all  the  other  parts  of  the  Empire  may  join 
with  us  and  we  with  them  as  one  political 
unit  in  carrying  forward  the  work  of 
civilisation  in  the  world.  For  our  own 
personal  part,  however,  we  are  opposed  to 
any  scheme  of  organisation  which  would 
deprive  us  of  any  modicum  of  our  present 
autonomy.  We  look  forward  to  the  day 
when  what  is  now  the  British  Empire  will 
be  an  alliance,  or  federation  of  independ- 
ent sovereign  nations, administered  in  com- 
mon matters  of  war  and  commerce  by  a 
regularly  constituted  representative  inter- 
national council.  It  is  for  this  reason 
that  we  think  all  thoughtful  Canadians 
should  sanction  Sir  Frederick  Pollock's 
scheme  of  forming  an  Imperial  Advisory 
Council  with  representatives  from  all 
parts  of  the  Empire.  We  believe  that 
such  a  council  would,  by  reason  of  its 
very  fitness,  begin  at  once  to  take  on  im- 
portant administrative  duties;  it  might, 
indeed,  form  the  nucleus  of  a  new  and 
unique  form  of  federal  parhament.  Quix- 
otic as  the  hope  may  seem,  it  is  only  in 
some  such  way  as  this  that  the  burning 
problem  of  the  British  Empire  can  be 
solved.  Either  this  or  we  fail.  Scat- 
tered in  widely  different  parts  of  the  globe, 
we  are  by  nature  admirably  adapted  to  a 
unique  application  of  the  federal  form  of 
constitution  vaster  than  has  been.  All 
real  growth  involves  both  differentiation 
and  integration.  As  the  whole  Empire 
increases  its  organisation,  so  must  each 
part  increase  in  independent  strength  and 
character.  Only  in  this  way,  we  think, 
can  the  integrity  of  the  Empire  be  main- 


tained, and  the  obhquy,  which  now  rests 
upon  the  colonies  of  being  dependent, 
subject  people,  be  at  the  same  time  re- 
moved. We  must  become  strong  in  our 
own  might,  or  else  we  shall  remain,  by 
reason  of  our  very  size,  a  source  of  weak- 
ness to  the  Empire  of  which  we  form  a 
part.  We  need  strength  commensurate 
with  our  size. 

"  Meanwhile  we  must  begin  without  de- 
lay to  prepare  ourselves  for  the  task. 
Many  practical  duties  are  even  now  press- 
ing hard  upon  us.  That  great  man,  Mr. 
Chamberlain,  proposes  tariff  union  be- 
tween Great  Britain  and  her  colonies  as 
the  first  step  towards  effective,  practical 
consolidation  of  the  Empire.  This  would 
no  doubt  be  a  good  beginning,  and  would 
not  only  be  a  benefit  to  the  colonies,  but, 
we  believe,  also  to  the  motherland.  But 
a  five  or  ten  per  cent,  tariff  is  a  small 
item  in  the  business  of  the  world.  Our 
neighbours  to  the  south  of  us  have  a  ship 
subsidy  bill  up  their  sleeve  by  which  to 
balance  that  account;  indeed,  a  very  little 
attention  by  them  to  matters  of  transport- 
ation would  soon  make  things  even  again. 
But  there  is  one  clear,  practical  thing  we 
Canadians  can  do,  and  it  is  time  it  were 
done  now,  and  that  without  any  further 
delay.  We  can  begin  a  bold  and  cour- 
ageous transportation  policy.  We  have 
already  begun  the  construction  of  a  new 
transcontinental  railway,  and  I  am  sure 
that  we  all,  independent  of  party  politics, 
hope  that  it  may  serve,  as  it  was  designed 
to  serve,  to  carry  the  heavy  farm  produce 
of  the  west  to  the  Atlantic  seaboard  at 
the  lowest  possible  rates.  Even  so,  how- 
ever, it  is  only  a  matter  of  a  few  years 
until  a  third  line  may  be  profitably  oper- 
ated, and  this  time  we  shall  hope  to  see  a 
heavy  line  built  by  the  most  direct  path 
straight  from  Quebec  and  north  of  Lake 
Winnipeg  to  the  foot  of  the  Rockies. 
Such  a  road  would  open  up  a  vast  new 
strip  of  our  northern  country.  Then  in 
the  next  place  we  can  complement  these 
land  transportation  facilities  vdih.  a  heavy 
transport  steamship  service  and  a  fast 
passenger,  mail,  and  small  freight  service, 
both  of  the  very  latest,  up-to-date  char- 
acter, between  the  Atlantic  seaboard  and 
the  coast  of  Great  Britain.  Let  that  be 
done  and  we  shall  then,  in  the  nature  of 


NIGHT 


435 


things,  be  down  to  rock-bcjlltjm  on  the 
transportation  problem.  VVe  shall  then 
have  an  advantage  in  the  British  market 
of  the  fruits  of  which  no  tariff  trick  or 
other  trick  of  legislation  can  deprive  us. 
Then  we  also  need  a  better  steamship  ser- 
vice with  the  West  Indies  and  South 
Ameriai.  We  need,  also,  an  up-to-date 
service  with  South  Africa.  South  Africans 
need  our  flour,  leather,  lumber,  boots  and 
shoes,  and  they  have  already  given  us  a 
twenty-five  per  cent,  preference  in  their 
tariff,  while  the  mother  country, which  also 
enjoys  this  preference,  is  largely  deprived  of 
its  benefits  i)y  an  iniquitous  shipping  ring. 
We  can  produce  more  cheaply  than  any 
part  of  the  world.  If,  then,  we  can  carry 
more  cheaply,  we  can  sell  more  cheaply. 
If  we  are  to  begin  to  consolidate  the  Em- 
pire, we  must  begin  to  consoUdate  in 
substance  as  well  as  in  form.  That,  I 
take  it,  is  the  rich  lesson  which  we  in  Ca- 
nada have  learned  from  the  joint  effects 
of  the  Confederation  Act  and  the  building 
of  the  Canadian  Pacific  Railway. 

Let  no  one  say  that  these  schemes  are 
mere  visions.     Everything  is  a  vision  be- 


fore it  becomes  a  fact.  They  are  not  one- 
half  so  visionary  as  that  quixotic  venture 
of  building  the  Canadian  Pacific  Railway 
across  this  Continent,  and  we  accom- 
plished that  task  when  our  Federal  rev- 
enues were  only  a  part  of  what  they  are 
to-day.  If  we  are  to  become  a  great 
nation  we  must  become  courageous,  and 
we  must  boldly  concentrate  our  Federal 
revenues  on  enterprises  of  national  inter- 
est and  importance.  The  great  national 
economic  problem  with  us  now  is,  "How 
are  we  to  get  our  farm  products  into  the 
markets  of  the  world  at  rock-bottom 
prices?"  Upon  that  problem  depends 
almost  our  entire  future,  and  that  problem 
can  only  be  solved  by  a  bold,  progressive 
transportation  policy  on  land  and  sea. 
We  must  show  ourselves  to  be  the  true 
sons  of  our  sea-going  fathers.  We  must 
prove  ourselves  to  be  a  genuine,  progres- 
sive, self-reliant,  western  people.  Let  Ca- 
nadians everywhere  become  more  alive. 
We  have  a  noble  heritage,  and  our  destiny 
is  clear,  if  only  we  are  prepared  to 
work  it  out  in  an  honest,  sincere,  resolute 
manner. 


Night 


BY   MINNIE   EVELYN    HENDERSON 


/""AUEEN  NIGHT,  now  I  attest  thy  purity: 
)<•     Men  say  the  deeds  of  dark  to  thee  belong, 
Some  have  misused  thy  deep  security. 

As  masks  of  virtue  evil-doers  don. 
But  'tis  the  Day  that  gives  the  world  new  scars: 

Were  God's  light  not  so  strong,  the  thoughts  of  man 
Would  be  so  black  as  to  blot  out  the  sun — 

In  Evil's  bridge  Day  builds  the  larger  span; 
Our  hearts  are  scorched,  but,  Night,  thou  art  a  shade 

Where  dwell  we  with  thy  child,  pure  infant-sleep. 
Within  whose  soft  arms  rest  we  imafraid, 

While  pitying  tears  upon  the  scars  may  steep, 
Day's  hewers  come  we,  all  wrong  unconfessed: 
Night's  arms  reach  far,  and  merciful  her  breast. 


4  ^  £^l 


^^^SSSSSr  OTHnrwjNi")  p»w'»n«iMi*;iwpi|i|i«Pwiw 


rp  ft  line  tf;    g  eiiice 


'«:.      ••■'^■■V*»^'-vi^?||tBVr.,|^ 


By   ALBERT    R.    CAR  MAX 

Author  of  "The  Penstonnaires'' 


A  striking  sketch  0}  the  typical,  matter-of-fact  American  girl, 
at  variance  with  old-world  conventionalities 


VER  since  Miss  Mamie  Ben- 
son, of  Cleveland,  Ohio,  had 
been  in  Italy,  she  had  been 
"dpng"  to  see  Venice.  But 
the  firm,  at  whose  various 
European  offices  she  was  acting  as  type- 
writer, had  no  office  in  Venice;  and  so,  if 
she  were  to  get  there  at  all,  it  must  be  a 
trip  at  her  o\\'n  expense.  And  then  she 
didn't  care  to  travel  alone.  She  was  not 
exactly  afraid;  still  you  could  never  tell 
what  "these  Dagoes  might  do." 

So  when  Mrs.  John  Peterson,  a  mother- 
ly widow  from  Lansing,  Mich.,  appeared 
in  the  sitting-room  of  the  pension  at 
which  Mamie  was  staging  in  Milan  and 
announced  that,  as  soon  as  she  had  "  done" 
Milan,  she  was  going  to  Venice,  Mamie 
made  up  to  her  right  away,  and  then  got 
leave  from  her  firm  to  take  a  little  hohday 
and  go  over  to  Venice  \vith  her  new 
friend. 

"I  won't  be  a  bother  to  you,"  Mamie 
assured  Mrs.  Peterson.  "I'll  just  go 
round  with  you  where  you  want  to  go. 
And,  maybe,  I  can  row  the  gondola  for 
you  sometimes.  I  s'pose  we  can  hire 
'em  without  an  oarsman?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Mrs.  Peterson, 
doubtfully.  "I  never  heard  of  anyone 
doing  it." 

"I  can  row  all  right,"  asserted  Mamie, 
"if  they're  not  spoon  oars.  Those  things 
I  never  could  handle." 

4.36 


"But  wouldn't  we  get  lost  ?"  questioned 
Mrs.  Peterson.  "They  say  there's  just 
hundreds  of  canals  running  in  all  direc- 
tions." 

"That's  just  it,"  returned  Mamie. 
"Whoever  heard  of  getting  lost  in  a 
canal?  And  then  I'll  get  used  to  the 
whole  town  in  a  few  days.  I  always 
have  with  every  town  I've  been  to  since 
I  came  over  here." 

Mrs.  Peterson  looked  at  her  in  admira- 
tion. "Well,  I  haven't,"  she  said  with 
emphasis.  "I  have  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  there  isn't  a  straight  street  in 
Europe.  They  all  seem  to  start  for  one 
place  and  then  go  somewhere  else.  And 
then  there's  the  omnibuses  and  street  cars ! 
They  never  run  to  anywhere  you  want  to 
go  to.  Why,  just  think  of  it! — in  Lon- 
don they  run  from  one  saloon  to  another! " 

"No;  do  they?"  laughed  Mamie. 
"Well,  that's  not  a  prohibition  town,  is 
it?"  and  she  laughed  again  until  the  tears 
came  out  of  her  round  eyes  and  rolled 
over  the  tremulous  rotundity  of  her 
cheeks.  Then  she  wiped  them  away 
with  fat  little  hands,  whose  fingers  ended 
in  pink  puflf-balls  of  flesh. 

They  had  the  compartment  to  them- 
selves going  over  to  Venice,  until  they 
reached  Desenzano,  when  the  poet  got 
in.  .•\rthur  Temple  was  printed  on  his 
vali.se.  and  exaltation  was  printed  on  his 
face.     He  had  been 


MAMIE    IX    VENICE 


437 


" walking  up  from  Desenzano 

gazing  al  tlie  Lydian  laughter  of 

the  Garda  Lake  below." 

Mamie  was  surprised  to  see  him,  for 
she  didn't  know  that  there  was  anything 
to  "do"  between  Milan  and  Venice,  and 
expected  only  Italians  to  get  in  at  the 
way  stations.  Presently  Mrs.  Peterson 
opened  up  a  lunch  and  offered  the  poet 
some;  and  then  they  all  got  talking  to- 
gether. Mamie  expressed  the  surprise 
she  had  felt  at  picking  him  up  at  a  way 
station,  and  mentioned  her  notion  that 
the  country  was  all  farms  and  "jay 
towns"  between  Milan  and  Venice. 

"You  forget  Verona,"  said  the  poet. 

"Verona?  That  sounds  like  a  patent 
medicine,"  returned  Mamie. 

The  poet  laughed  leniently.  "Why, 
Verona,"  he  said,  "was  where  Romeo 
and  Juliet  lived." 

"Oh!"  cried  Mamie,  abashed.  "I 
thought  they  were  in  a  play." 

"They  were,"  said  the  poet;  "but 
they  were  real  characters,  too." 

Now  Mamie  had  seen  the  play  in 
Cleveland,  and  had  neither  made  much 
of  it  nor  seen  much  in  it. 

"Well,"  she  said,  thoughtfully,  after  a 
moment,  "they  weren't  real  characters  in 
the  play  anyway.  I  think  I  see  a  Cleve- 
land boy  doing  all  that  talking  under  a 
bay  window.  Why,  he'd  go  to  see  any 
girl  who  lived  upstairs  that  way  with  a 
collapsible  step-ladder." 

At  Venice,  all  three  came  out  of  the 
railway  station  together  and  walked  down 
the  steps  to  where  the  black  gondolas 
were  floating  about. 

"Why,  they  don't  row  them,  do  they?" 
exclaimed  Mamie  in  amazement;  "and 
that's  just  hke  they  are  in  the  pictures, 
too.  They — they — ^sort  of  push  them, 
don't  they  ?""— doubtfully. 

But  the  poet's  eyes  were  shining,  and 
he  said  nothing.  This  was  Venice  and 
the  Grand  Canal,  and  there  floated  the 
night-black  messengers  of  this  mysterious 
city,  Venice,  the  Queen  of — 

"Now,  did  you  ever!''  Mamie  broke  in 
on  him.  "Imagine  rowing  a  boat  with 
one  oar,  and  standing  m  to  do  it!" 

"They  have  always  done  so,"  said  the 
poet,    dreamily.     "Had    we    come    here 


away  back  in  the  middle  ages,  we  should 
have  seen  just  such  black  swans  floating 
upon  the  waters,  with  the  tall  gondolier 
leaning  gracefully  on  his  oar." 

Mamie  looked  at  him  for  a  moment, 
as  if  awaiting  the  point  of  his  joke.  It 
had  something  to  do,  she  fancied,  with 
the  age  of  those  dingy  old  boats.  But  his 
face  showed  that  he  was  not  joking.  So 
she  snapped  out — 

"Well,  that's  no  credit  to  them.  They 
ought  to  have  improved  by  this  time.  It 
must  be  a  lot  easier  to  sit  down  and  row — " 

"  Row  ?  In  Venice  ?  "  exploded  the  poet. 
Then  her  round,  confident,  self-satisfied 
face  disarmed  him.  "But  you  are  a 
little  barbarian,"  he  ended  with  a  for- 
giving smile. 

"Let  us  hurry  and  get  one  anyway," 
suggested  Mrs.  Peterson.  "People  are 
picking  them  up."  And  they  began  to 
signal  to  the  floating  gondoliers. 

"Wait!  Wait!"  suddenly  cried  Mamie. 
"Here  comes  a  steamboat.  That's  our 
size." 

"But  you  can't  mean  to  take  a  steam- 
boat in  Venice,"  said  the  poet,  impa- 
tiently. 

"Of  course  I  mean  it,"  insisted  Mamie. 
"It  will  be  twice  as  quick." 

"Well,  let  me  help  you  on  it,  then," 
said  the  poet  politely;  "but  I  am  going 
in  a  gondola." 

"Oh,"  said  Mamie,  as  if  in  expostula- 
tion at  his  putting  himself  out,  but  not 
offering  to  go  toward  the  steamboat  land- 
ing, "we  couldn't  think  of  bothering  you 

Perhaps,  we'd  better  all  keep  together, 

anyway."  And  so  they  went  down  the  steps 
and  into  the  roomy  waist  of  a  gondola. 

"My!"  said  Mamie,  after  they  had 
pushed  in  silence  across  the  Grand  Canal 
and  entered  one  of  the  smaller  canals  on 
the  other  side,  taking  a  short  cut  to  the 
hotel.  "My!  but  the  cellars  in  those 
houses  must  be  fearfully  damp." 

"Do  you  suppose  they  have  cellars?" 
asked  Mrs.  Peterson,  doubtfully. 

Mamie  shook  her  head  in  confessed 
ignorance.  "They'd  be  cool,"  she  added, 
as  a  possible  reason  for  beHeving  in  their 
existence. 

"But  they'd  be  dead  dark,"  objected 
Mrs.  Peterson,  "and  ratty." 

The   poet   took   note    of  their    discus- 


438 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


"Mrs.  Peterson  thought  that,  perhaps,  the 

church  was  sinking  down  into 

the  water  in  places" 

sion.  "  They  have  dungeons  at  the  Doges' 
Palace,"  he  said,  "which  are  below  the 
water  line." 

"They  ought  to  have  been  written  up," 
commented  Mamie,  with  prompt  vigour. 
"  Thev  could  never  do  such  a  thing  in  the 
States,  could  they?" 

"Thev  were  written  up,"  said  the  poet, 
with  amusement.     "  That  is  how  I  knew." 

"Oh!  you!"  cried  Mamie,  her  twink- 
ling eyes  showing  that  she  saw  the  joke. 
"You  mean  they  were  written  down  in 
history.  But  that's  no  good.  No  one 
reads  history  but  kids  at  school — 'nd— -'nd 
wise  guys  that  you  can't  get  to  vote."   If 


you  want  the  police  to  get  a  move  on, 
you've  got  to  write  it  up  in  the  papers." 

"We'll  have  to  see  about  that,"  replied 
the  poet;  but  Mamie  saw  that  he  was 
still  joking  her,  so  she  flushed  a  little  and 
fell  into  a  stubborn  silence.  Mrs.  Peter- 
son wondered  if  they  were  lost,  and  if  the 
gondolier  had  understood  what  hotel 
they  wanted,  or  if  he  was  taking  them  to 
another,  and  said  that  the  water  looked 
to  her  just  like  the  water  in  a  ditch;  but 
Mamie  accepted  none  of  these  conversa- 
tional offers. 

That  afternoon,  they  came  out  together 
on  the  Piazza  of  St.  Mark  and  looked 
about  them.  Mamie  at  once  said  that 
the  church  was  "dumpy,"  having  the 
soaring  height  of  Milan  Cathedral  in  her 
mind. 

'  That  is  a  Byzantine  effect  ?"  explained 
the  poet. 

"What  is  a  Byzantine 
effect?"  enquired  Mamie  at 
once.  She  was  always  an 
unabashed  seeker  after  in- 
formation. 

"Why,"    said     the     poet, 

"that    basilica    is  —  round 

domes    and — little   pinnacles, 

and  rich  decoration — " 

"You   like    it?"    persisted 

V_.     ^        Mamie. 

■^'-"'  "Very    much,"    said     the 

poet,  emphatically. 

"Well,  to  me,"  said  Mamie, 

"it  looks  like  a    lot   of   little 

cakes    that   had   settled  and 

'gone  heavy'." 

Nor   was  she  any  better  pleased  with 

the  mosaics  in  the  vaulting  of  the  entrance 

hall,  and  finally  she  said,  hardly  knowing 

whether  she  was  making  a  joke  or  not: 

"I  believe  that  I  could  make  just  as 
good  mosaics  as  IMoses  himself." 

The  bad  repair  of  the  paving,  both  in 
the  church  and  out  of  it   called  forth  her  j 
keenest  ridicule. 

Mrs.  Peterson  thought  that,  perhaps, 
the  church  was  sinking  down  into  the 
water  in  places. 

"Wliat  did  th  ty  build  it  here  for  then  ?" 
demanded  Mamie.  "Isn't  there  any  diy 
land  around  here?" 


MAMIE    IN    VEXK  K 


439 


Then  the  poet  decided  to  take  them  in 
hand.     He  said: 

"Do  you  know — you  are  seeing  things 
in  the  wrong  way  all  the  time.  People 
do  not  come  to  Venice  because  it  is  a 
model,  up-to-date  American  city;  for  it 
is  nothing  of  the  kind.  They  come  here 
just  because  it  is  something  quite  different. 
It  is  a  city  of  the  middle  ages,  built  out 
on  these  islands  for  middle  age  reasons. 
Those  mosaics  are  eight  hundred  years 
old.  This  church  is  nearly  a  thousand 
years  old."  And  much  more  to  the  same 
effect. 

Then  they  went  to  the  Doges'  Palace, 
and  Mamie  determined  to  keep  her  opin- 
ions to  herself.  So  for  a  time  the  poet 
w\TS  enjoying  himself  hugely,  pointing  out 
to  two  silent  and  apparently  admiring 
ladies  the  marvellous  bronze  cistern  tops 
in  the  court,  the  great  staircases,  the 
vast  council  rooms,  the  old  masters,  the 
"mouth  of  the  lion,"  the  chambers  of  the 
Terrible  Ten  and  the  Terrible  Three, 
and  the  dank  dungeons  beneath  the  lap- 
ping waters  of  the  canal. 

"Do  you  know  what  I  think?''  said 
Mamie  at  last. 

The  poet  smiled  a  question. 

"Well,  I  think  that  they  did  an  awful 
lot  of  painting  of  people  that  nobody  ever 
heard  of." 

"The  painters  must  have  heard  of 
them,"  suggested  Mrs.  Peterson  in  a 
mollifying  tone. 

"Sure!"  said  Mamie;  "or  made  them 
up.  But  I  guess  they  heard  of  them  all 
right.  They'd  want  to  send  the  bill  to 
them.  It  must  have  cost  them  a  lot  of 
money  to  get  their  pictures  painted  like 
this.  But  it  really  seems  to  me  that 
niost  of  these  people  couldn't  have  cut 
much  ice,  or  I  would  have  heard  of  them 
myself.  They've  a  lot  here  about  battles, 
and  yet  not  a  scene  with  Napoleon  or 
( rcneral  Grant  or  Juhus  Caesar  in  it. 
^'ou  know,  it  may  be  all  very  well,  but 
this  whole  palace  looks  to  me  like  an  ad- 
\  ertisement  dodge  got  up  by  local  people 
til  puff  their  own  citizens — a  sort  of  jubilee 
luimber  of  the  town  paper,  done  in  stone 
and  paint." 

But  the  poet  had  gone,  and  they  did 
not  see  him  again  until  dinner  that  night. 


The  poet  pointed  out 

"the  mouth  of 

the  lion" 


There  was  much  about  Venice,  as  the 
days  went  on,  that  fascinated  Mamie. 
She  liked  sitting  at  Florians  of  an  after- 
noon, drinking  chocolate  and  listening  to 
the  band.  The  Lido  made  her  a  little 
lonesome,  for  the  almost  w-aveless  Adriatic 
was  so  like  Lake  Erie.  The  glass  works 
tempted  her,  but  she  did  not  think  much 
of  the  Venetian  lace — it  was  too  coarse. 

But  the  churches  and  the  paintings, 
and  even  the  "alleged  palaces"  on  the 
Grand  Canal  did  not  move  her  much. 
Having  learned  that  the  Bridge  of  Sighs 
had  never  been  crossed  by  sighing  prison- 
ers, she  looked  upon  its  continued  pres- 
ence as  a  sort  of  brazen  swindle  upon 
American  tourists,  who  were  chiefly  taken 
in  by  it.  Still  going  anjnvhere  in  a  gondola 
was  a  dreamy  pleasure,  and  the  shops  in 
the  arcades  of  the  Procuratie  were  always 
a  delight. 

Finally  the  morning  came  when  she 
and  Mrs.  Peterson  must  leave,  the  latter 
for  Florence  and  Mamie  for  her  ofl5ce  at 


440 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


Milan.  The  poet  took  his  first  trip  by 
the  detested  steamer  to  the  station  to  see 
them  off. 

"Well,"  said  Mamie  to  the  poet,  'T 
know  that  you  like  this  town,  for  you  are 
going  to  stay.  But,  to  me,  it's  the  worst 
}-et  in  Europe;  and  that  is  saying  a  good 
deal.  They  do  things  just  a  little  stu- 
pider here  than  they  do  anpvhere  else. 
They  began  by  building  in  a  swamp, 
which  was  pretty  near  the  limit;  and  then, 
instead  of  getting  around  with  launches 
or  canoes,  or  something  like  that,  they 
picked  upon  one-oared  boats,  as  heavy 
as  barges  and  as  slow  as  time.  And  even 
to-day  they  think  it's  a  disgrace  to  travel 
in  a  steamboat." 

"Not  they — always,"  said  the  poet,  a 
little  sadly. 

"Well,  they  keep  up  the  gondola  idea 
for  strangers  then,"  said  Mamie.  'Tf  I 
owned  the  town,"  she  went  on,  'T'd 
move  it  over  onto  dry  land.  Those 
enemies  that  they  came  here  to  escape, 
that  you  were  telling  us  about,  must  be 
all  dead  by  now.  There  used  to  be 
Indians  in  America,  but  we  don't  live  in 
a  stockade  out  in  Cleveland  now  just  be- 
cause people  had  to  once.  We've  sat 
up  and  begun  to  take  notice  since  then, 
and  so  should  these  Venetians.      It  would 


be  perfectly  safe  for  them  to  go  ashore 
now." 

■'And  become  a  city  of  trolley  lines  and 
departmental  stores,"  observed  the   poet. 

" Sure  thing! "  replied  Mamie.  "Think 
of  living  in  a  city  without  a  street  car! 
And,  for  that  matter,  almost  without  a 
street!  A  flooded  city,  with  nothing  but 
sidewalks  left!  Can't  go  driving!  Can't 
take  a  car!  Can't  go  walking  and  find 
your  way  back  again!  Can't  find  your 
way  there,  if  you're  going  anywhere!  A 
perfect  obstacle  race  to  go  around  the 
corner.  First  you'll  have  to  climb  an 
overhead  bridge;  and  then,  in  a  minute, 
you'll  have  to  swim  a  canal  or  come  back 
to  the  main  alley-way  and  start  again." 

"But,"  she  went  on  presently,  the  poet 
not  having  spoken,  "they've  done  one 
thing  well.  They've  advertised  their 
canal  boat  Eden  to  beat  the  band.  I  have 
been  hearing  of  nothing  Init  Venice  ever 
since  I  came  over  to  Europe.  It's  \'enice 
— Venice — Venice!  You  simply  must  see 
\'enice!  They  had  you" — turning  to  the 
poet — "all  posted  on  this  gondola  fake 
before  you  got  here.  Their  advance 
agents  must  be  corkers,  whoever  they  are." 

"Their  names  were  B\Ton  and  Ruskin," 
said  the  poet,  looking  off  at  the  passing 
row  of  Gothic  Palaces. 


^^-^ 


•> 


PART   OF   KING    EDWARD'S    COLLECTION        THE   HELMET  IN    THE    MIDDLE   OF    THE 
MANTELPIECE   WAS   BOUGHT  FOR   £8,000 


King  Edward's  Expensive  Hobby 

By  MORTIMER  VERXOX 


His  Majesty  revives  the  old  office  0}  ''King's  Armourer, 
vacant  since  the  days  of  Charles  II 


()T  onl\"  his  own  loyal  sub- 
jects, but  all  clear-thinking 
men  of  every  nation,  appre- 
ciate and  respect  King  Ed- 
ward \'II  for  his  manifold 
points  of  contact  with  life.  If  without 
irreverence  one  may  say  so,  King  Edward 
is  the  Admirable  Crichton  of  monarchs, 
and  this  glimpse  of  him  pursuing  a  hobby 
■will  be  intensely  interesting. 

The  King's  Armourer  is  one  of  the  most 
important  and  ancient  of  offices  in  the 
Royal  Household,  but  until  King  Edward 
ATI  appointed  Mr.  Guy  Taking,  the  son 
of  Sir  Francis  Taking,  His  ^Majesty's 
physician,  to  the  post  shortly  after  his 
accession  to  the  throne,  it  had  not  been 
filled  since  the  time  of  Charles  IT  Mr. 
Taking  is  the  greatest  Hving  authority  on 

3—441 


ancient  armour,  and  he  was  the  only  per- 
son who  could  eft'ectively  execute  the 
many  very  responsible  duties  which  the 
King's  .Armourer  of  the  present  day  has 
to  perform. 

The  first  duty  ^Ir.  Taking  had  to  carry 
out  was  to  arrange  and  put  in  order  the 
priceless  collection  of  armour  at  ^^'indsor 
Castle.  In  this  work  ^Ir.  Taking  re- 
cei\-ed  much  valuable  assistance  from 
King  Edward,  who  is  himself  an  ex- 
pert authority  on  ancient  armour.  For 
example,  on  one  occasion  Mr.  Taking  was 
putting  together  a  very  valuable  suit  of 
armour  made  for  Prince  Henry  of  Wales 
in  the  seventeenth  century,  wliich  had 
been  found  in  an  old  kimber  room  at  Wind- 
sor Castle.  The  pieces  of  this  suit  were 
taken  into  the  armoury  room  at  AA'indsor, 


442 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


where  the  King  came  to  inspect  them. 
Now  it  was  of  the  greatest  importance 
that  each  piece  should  be  identified  as 
being  the  original  piece  of  the  suit.  "I 
congratulated  myself,''  said  Mr.  Laking, 
'"that  I  would  be  able  to  detect  at  a  glance 
whether  we  had  got  hold  of  the  right 
pieces  or  not.  They  appeared  to  me  to 
be  correct  in  every  detail,  and  I  was  just 
about  to  say  so  to  the  King,  when  His 
Majesty  quietly  observed  that  the  shoulder 
plate  of  the  suit  could  not  have  be- 
longed to  the  original  suit  of  armour,  as 
it  was  obviously  of  later  date  than  the 
17th  century,  and  this  proved  to  be  the 
case.  The  shoulder  plate  we  had  found 
really  belonged  to  another  suit  of  a  much 
later  date,  and  was  just  a  quarter  of  an 
inch  wider  than  the  shoulder  plates  made 
in  the  17th  centun,-.  This  httle  incident 
serv^es  to  show  what  a  keen  eye  for  detail 
King  Edward  has  in  such  matters.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  the  original  shoulder  of  the 
suit   in   question   was   never   found,   and 


King  Edward  would  not  ha\e  it,  there- 
fore, put  in  the  long  corridor  at  Windsor, 
which  is  reserved  entirely  for  complete 
suits  of  armour." 

It  took  the  King's  Armourer  twelve 
months  to  arrange  all  the  armour  at  ^A'ind- 
sor,  but  he  had  of  course  to  attend  to 
many  other  matters  in  connection  with 
his  office  during  that  period.  The  King 
is  being  constantly  asked  to  buy  pieces  of 
old  armour.  These  are  mostly  repre- 
sented as  being  "old  English  armour,'' 
but  are  by  no  means  what  they  are  repre- 
sented to  be.  Mr.  Laking  faces  the  work 
of  deciding  whether  such  pieces  should 
be  purchased  for  the  Royal  -Armoury.  In 
any  case,  the  King  never  buys  any  armour 
except  pieces  which  at  some  time  or  other 
did  actually  occupy  a  place  in  the  Crown 
collections,  but  which,  through  various 
circvunstances,  got  into  .other  hands. 
There  are  altogether  about  three  hundred 
pieces  of  old  armour  in  the  world  which 
the   King  would  purchase  if  he  got  an 


THE    king's    armourer    ARRAXGIXG  a  group    for    the    walls    of    BUCKINGHAM     PALACE 


KING   EDWARD'S    EXPENSIVE    HOBBY 


443 


A   CORNER   IN    THE    ROOMS   OF   THE   KING'S  ARJIOURER   AT   ST.    JAMES'    PALACE 


opportunity  to  do  so,  but  Mr.  Laking 
estimates  that  at  the  outside  not  more 
than  fifty  of  these  pieces  will  ever  come 
into  the  market,  as  the  rest  are  in  national 
museums  in  different  parts  of  Europe, 
and  will  in  all  probabihty  never  stir  from 
where  they  are. 

A  couple  of  years  ago  Mr.  Laking  read 
in  a  Russian  paper  that  a  Polish  gentle- 
man had  purchased  an  old  English  helmet 
of  the  time  of  the  Wars  of  the  Roses,  at 
a  sale  in  Moscow,  for  ;,^5o  and  that  a 
dealer  had  promptly  offered  the  purchaser 
£Soo  for  it,  which,  however,  was  refused. 
Mr.  Laking  at  once  had  an  audience  with 
the  King  and  started  off  for  Moscow 
that  very  night. 

At  Moscow  he  learned  the  address  of 
the  Polish  gentleman  who  had  purchased 
the  helmet  and  to  him  the  King's  Armour- 
er went  and  asked  to  be  allowed  to  see  it. 
Mr.  Laking  saw  at  once  that  the  helmet 
"was  a  genuine  article  and  immensely 
valuable,  for  there  are  onlv  three  of  these 


helmets  in  the  world.  His  Majesty  w^as 
determined  to  have  at  least  one  of  them, 
and  told  his  armourer  to  pay  ;4 10,000  for 
it  rather  than  let  it  go.  The  Polish  gen- 
tleman knew  the  helmet  to  be  a  valuable 
one,  and  after  several  days'  bargaining, 
ran  his  price  up  to  ;i^6,ooo,  and  it  now 
stands  in  the  Armourer's  room  at  St. 
James'  Palace. 

The  amount  of  faked  armour  which  is 
being  constantly  offered  to  His  Majesty 
is  enormous,  and  until  Mr.  Taking's 
appointment  as  Armourer,  a  good  many 
of  these  fakes  were  purchased.  These 
had  to  be  taken  out  of  the  Crown  collec- 
tions when  they  were  being  recently 
arranged. 

When  a  piece  of  armour  is  ofi"ered  to 
the  King  the  would-be  seller  sends  first 
of  all  a  photograph  of  the  piece  to  the 
King's  Armourer  who  shows  it  to  the 
King.  If  the  piece  appears  to  be  genuine 
and  His  Majesty  approves  of  it,  Mr. 
Laking  makes  an  appointment  to  inspect 


444 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


it.  These  offers  come  from  all  parts  of 
the  world,  and  if  the  offer  comes  from 
outside  England  the  owner  of  the  armour 
must  send  the  piece  to  St.  James'  Palace, 
or  pay  Mr.  Laking's  expenses  if  he  wishes 
the  Armourer  to  come  to  him. 

Since  King  Edward  ascended  the  throne 
his  xA.rmourer  has  received  offers  of  one 
thousand  and  eighty  pieces  of  armour, 
and  has  purchased  three,  one  being  a 
Tilting  Breast-plate  belonging  to  a  suit 
in  Windsor  Castle  which  the  Armourer 
secured  for  ;^8,ooo.  This  particular  piece 
was  in  the  possession  of  a  Parisian  col- 
lector who  brought  it  with  him  to  England 
and  showed  it  himself  to  King  Edward, 
who  at  once  recognised  the  importance  of 
securing  it  for  the  Windsor  Armoury. 
The  dealer  asked  ;^io,ooo  for  it,  but  Mr. 
Laking  managed  to  buy  it  after  a  great 
deal  of  bargaining  for  ;^2,ooo  less. 

A  German  lady  came  recently  to  Mr. 
Laking  with  a  sabre  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  which  she  declared  was  origin- 
ally in  the  Windsor  Armour}-,  which  she 
wished  to  sell  to  the  King.  The  price 
she  asked  was  moderate,  and  the  sabre 
appeared  to  be  quite  genuine.  Mr. 
Laking  made  a  thorough  and  lengthy  ex- 
amination of  the  weapon  and  finally 
decided  to  advise  His  ^lajesty  to  buy  it. 
Then  it  suddenly  occurred  to  the  Armourer 
that  the  sabre  was  rather  light  in  weight, 
and  subsequently  he  ascertained  that  it 
was  several  ounces  lighter  than  an}- 
genuine  sabre  of  the  sixteenth  century  and 
must  therefore  be  a  fake.  The  lady  had 
arranged  to  call  at  the  Armourer's  office 
a  few  days  later,  but  she  never  appeared. 
She  wrote,  instead,  a  letter  to  the  King 
confessing  that  the  weapon  was  a  fake. 

There  are  several  ancient  privileges 
attached  to  the  post  of  Armourer,  which, 


however,  the  present  holder  of  the  office 
does  not  claim.  One  of  those  enables 
him  to  dine  at  the  King's  table  at  least 
once  a  week;  another  enables  him  to 
demand  a  golden  goblet  from  His  Ma- 
jesty once  a  year.  Mr.  Laking,  it  need 
scarcely  be  remarked,  does  not  claim 
either  of  these  ancient  privileges.  On 
state  occasions,  however,  he  wears  the 
gorgeous  uniform  of  his  ofl&ce,  which  is 
no  doubt  far  more  ornamental  than  com- 
fortable. 

In  addition  to  the  offers  of  armour 
which  King  Edward  so  frequently  receives 
from  would-be  sellers,  His  Majesty  is  con- 
stantly receiving  presents  of  armour  from 
foreign  monarchs.  Many  Indian  princes, 
for  example,  have  often  sent  immensely 
valuable  suits  of  armour  and  weapons  to 
King  Edward,  and  these  the  Armourer 
has  to  arrange  and  to  ascertain  in  what 
part  of  the  Royal  palaces  they  can  be 
disposed  of  to  the  greatest  advantage. 
Whenever  a  present  of  armour  arrives  for 
the  King,  Mr.  Laking  inspects  it  and 
makes  a  rough  pencil  drawing  of  the  man- 
ner in  which  he  proposes  to  arrange  the- 
pieces.  This  picture  is  then  submitted 
to  the  King  for  approval.  Sometimes  His 
^L^jesty  suggests  alterations  in  the  pic- 
ture, and  in  any  case  always  holds  a  short 
consultation  with  the  Armourer  before 
finally  deciding  on  the  manner  in  which 
the  armour  is  to  be  placed.  In  the 
Armourer's  office  there  is  a  complete  rec- 
ord of  every  piece  of  armour  in  the  Royal 
Palace,  and  a  picture  of  every  group  of 
the  dift'erent  pieces  of  armour.  All  this 
work  was  carried  out  by  special  desire  of 
the  King,  before  whose  accession  the  great 
Crown  collections  of  armour  were  hidden 
treasures  lost  to  sight  in  old  lumber  rooms- 
in  the  different  royal  palaces. 


HEAD    OF    TASMAN    GLACIER,    NEW    ZEALANU 


The  Britain  of  the  South 


By  T.  E.  TAYLOR 


Mr.  Taylor  was  for  six  years  in  the  New  Zealand  Parliament,  and 
therefore  is  well  able  to  discuss  conditions  in  that  country 


HE  memory  of  one  of  the 
most  fearless  of  navigators 
is  indelibly  associated  with 
the  Colony  of  New  Zealand. 
It  is  doubtful  whether  Cap- 
tain Abel  Jansen  Tasman,  who  discov- 
ered these  "Fortmiate  Isles"  in  Decem- 
ber, 1642,  landed  on  any  portion  of  them, 
but  he  christened  them  in  honour  of  his 
own  country,  and  the  name  of  the  Colony 
New  Zealand  (although  no  Dutchman 
has  ever  won  distinction  in  this  Colony 
since  Europeans  settled  here),  will  for 
ever  remain  a  monument  of  the  skill 
and  daring  of  one  of  Holland's  great- 
est seamen.  European  settlement  dates 
back  about  seventy  years,  but  it 
was  only  in  1840  that  Great  Britain 
formallv     annexed     the     islands.       The 


area  of  New  Zealand  is  104,000  square 
miles.  Compared  with  the  3,000,000 
square  miles  comprising  the  Common- 
wealth of  Australia,  this  area  seems  in- 
significant, but  a  comparison  of  New 
Zealand's  fertility  and  natural  beauties 
with  those  of  her  massive  neighbour  is  at 
all  points  to  her  advantage.  There  are 
numbers  of  folk  even  in  England  who  be- 
lieve in  a  vague  way  that  New  Zealand 
and  Australia  are  one  and  the  same  coun- 
try. Even  though  the  Tasman  Sea  with 
its  1,300  miles  of  stormy  waters  did  not 
separate  us  from  Australia,  the  cHmate 
and  physical  features  of  New  Zealand  are 
essentially  different  from  those  of  the  Com- 
monwealth States.  Whilst  much  Aus- 
tralian scenery  is  admittedly  beautiful, 
the  Commonwealth  becomes  almost  com- 


445 


446 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


monplace  when  contrasted  with  the 
startling  beauties  of  the  Britain  of  the 
South.  Natural  beauty  has  been  lavished 
upon  us.  Nearly  all  our  4,330  miles  of 
coast-line  is  rugged  and  rockbound,  whilst 
himdreds  of  miles  display  mountain 
ranges  whose  forest-clad  slopes  are  pierced 
by  summits  cro\Mied  with  eternal  snow. 
Stretching  from  ^7,°  to  53°  south  latitude, 
New  Zealand  has  a  marvellous  variety  of 
climates.  In  Auckland,  the  most  north- 
erly province,  sub-tropical  fruits  and 
flowers    flourish,    whilst    in    Ota  go    and 


lands  may  be  judged  by  the  fact  that  our 
wheat  crop  averages  thirty-live  bushels, 
and  oats  forty  bushels  to  the  acre,  while 
our  exports  of  frozen  meat,  which  reached 
£3,250,000  in  value  last  year,  always 
command  by  their  quality  the  highest 
price  upon  the  London  market.  In  but- 
ter and  cheese,  of  which  we  sent  ;^i.5oo,- 
000  worth  to  England  last  year,  we  chal- 
lenge the  quahty  of  even  the  Dominion 
of  Canada.  Although  our  population  is 
not  yet  900,000,  we  produced  marketable 
goods  last  year  valued  at  ;:^3o,ooo,ooo  and 


A    TYPICAL   NEW    ZEALAND   GOLD   DREDGE.       THE   ORE   IS,  TAKEN    FROM   GRA\^L 
BEDS  IN    THE   RIVER 


Southland,  at  the  other  extremity  of  the 
Colony,  the  good  old  winter  games  of 
Great  Britain  are  indulged  in  and  occa- 
sional spells  of  frost  and  sno\\'falls  remind 
us  that  we  are  wdthin  a  week's  sail  of  the 
Antarctic  Continent.  There  is  no  point 
in  these  sea-girt  islands  more  than  one 
hundred  miles  from  the  sea  coast.  Of 
the  sixty-seven  millions  of  acres  within 
our  boundaries,  about  fifty-five  millions 
are  suitable  for  pasture  and  agricultural 
purposes,  and  some  thirty-six  miUion 
acres  are  at  present  utilised  by  these  in- 
terests.    The  fertilitv  of  our  agricultural 


exported  to  foreign  markets  over  one- 
half  of  that  value.  Our  combined  im- 
ports and  exports  equal  ;^29,ooo,ooo.  It 
is  a  fact  worthy  of  note  and  a  defect  call- 
ing for  a  remedy  that  our  imports  from 
Canada  are  less  than  ;^5o,ooo  of  the  ;;^i3,- 
000,000  from  all  countries. 

Our  people  are  all  British  born  with  the 
exception  of  about  11,615,  of  whom  4,000 
are  Germans,  3,500  from  Denmark  and 
Sweden,  1,600  are  Americans  and  3,000 
Chinese.  With  the  exception  of  the  last 
named,  nearly  all  the  foreign-born  folk 
have  been  naturalised.     We  claim,  ^vith 


THE    BRirATX    OF     I'lFK    SOUTH 


447 


some  degree  of  pride,  that  we  are  more 
British  than  any  portion  of  the  Empire 
outside  the  Motherland,  that 

"  Precious  stone  set  in  the  silver  sea." 

Our  religious  sympathies  may  be 
gauged  by  the  fact  that  the  Church  of 
England  claims  41  per  cent,  of  our  total 
population;  Presbyterian,  23  per  cent.; 
Methodists,  11  per  cent.;  and  Roman 
Catholics,  14.23  per  cent.  Our  educa- 
tional institutions  are  well  abreast  of 
modem  methods  and  ideals. 

The  first  organised  settlement  of  the 
Canterbury  province  was  controlled  by  a 
number  of  influential  and  educated  Eng- 
lishmen, and  the  immigrants  they  induced 
to  come  here  were  to  reproduce  upon 
Xew  Zealand  soil  the  Church  of  England 
with  its  system  of  Government.  All  set- 
tlement and  all  the  institutions  which 
they  hoped  to  create  were  to  be  in  harmonv 
with  the  English  ideals,  which  regarded 
the  squire  and  the  parson  as  the  poles  of 
any  perfect  or  desirable  civiHsation.  The 
pilgrim  fathers  of  this  province  arrived  in 
185 1,  and  although  the  exclusive  ideals 
which  inspired  them  have 
failed  of  realisation,  as  they 
were  bound  to  do,  the  high 
character  and  imusual  abiHty 
of  these  nation  builders  of 
1 85 1  have  left  an  indehble 
impression  upon  all  our  princi- 
pal institutions.  Many  of  the 
early  settlers  were  educa- 
tionists, and  a  few  of  the  pio- 
neers in  the  Canterbury  prov- 
ince are  entitled  to  credit  for 
the  establishment  of  our 
national  system  of  free,  sec- 
ular and  compulsory  educa- 
tion. Any  boy  or  girl  of  proved 
capacity  can  go  free  of  cost 
from  the  primary  school  to  the 
tmiversity.  Apart  from  the 
national  schools  there  are  only 
a  few  Roman  CathoHc  day 
schools.  The  latter  receive 
no  State  aid,  but  are  subject 
to  be  inspected  by  the  State 
inspectors  with  regard  to  the 
standard  results. 

The  southern  portion  of 
the  South  Island  was  settled 
by     Scotch    people,    and     to 


this  day  Scotch  are  heavily  in  the  ma- 
jority in  Otago  and  Southland.  With 
the  exception  of  the  Canterbur\-  and 
Otago  provinces,  the  Colony  was  origin- 
ally settled  by  a  mixed  population  from 
Great  Britain.  Our  isolation  has  pro- 
tected us  from  any  inrush  of  undesirables. 
European  exiles  form  not  even  a  fraction 
of  our  population.  The  pauper  fleeing 
from  foreign  persecution  could  not  reach 
our  shores.  One  consequence  of  this 
isolation  has  been  that  our  population 
has  increased  but  slowly.  A  chief  ad- 
vantage we  have  derived  has  been  our 
freedom  from  the  educational,  social,  re- 
ligious and  political  problems  inevitably 
associated  with  a  mingling  of  races.  Per- 
haps the  future  may  cause  us  to  regret 
that  we  ha\e  not  had  to  develop  under 
more  cosmopolitan  conditions.  If  the 
British  race  is  capable  of  reaching  its 
highest  possible  development  under  the 
stimulus  of  an  equable  climate,  poKtical 
and  reHgious  freedom,  and  an  abundant 
food    supply,    then  New  Zealand  should 


WAIROA    GEYSER    AT    PLAY AUCKLAND,   NEW    ZEALAXD 


448 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


A    MAORI    CHIEF 


become    a    leader    amongst    the    oversea 
dominions  of  the  British  Empire. 

Politically,  ideal  conditions  obtain  here. 
We   have   adult   franchises.     Everv   man 


and  woman  of  twenty-one 
years  of  age  is  enrolled  upon 
the  parliamentary  rolls  b}- 
the  State  and  at  the  public 
cost.  Ourmunicipalfranchi.se 
is  scarcely  less  generous.  The 
women  were  admitted  to 
vote  in  1894,  and  each  suc- 
ceeding parliamentary  election 
has  witnessed  them  using  their 
political  powers  more  keenly. 
Woman's  entrance  into 
politics  was  preceded  by 
man}-  doleful  predictions  as 
to  the  calamities  which  would 
follow  the  experiment.  Family 
discord  would  reign  supreme; 
women  would  be  unsexed; 
divorce  would  multiply,  and 
the  seven  plagues  of  Egypt 
would  fade  into  insignificance 
when  contrasted  with  the  evils 
which  were  certain  to  follow 
the  reform.  After  twelve 
years'  operation,  all  the  pre- 
dictions remain  unfulfilled. 
The  polling  booths  have  been 
purified  by  the  presence  of 
women  voters.  The  home 
life  of  the  \-oters  is  as  serene 
as  it  was  before  the  fran- 
chise to  women  was  granted.  Divorce 
has  not  increased.  Not  only  have  not  the 
evil  forebodings  Ijeen  realised  in  actual 
experience,  but  the  moral  tone  <»f  Parlia- 


.MAORI     PCI    UAN'CE.       SPECIMENS    OF    MAOKI    CARVINCS    IN    THE    BACKCKc  U   ND 


THE    BRITAIN    OF   THE    SOUTH 


449 


ment  has  been  perceptibly  raised.  Social 
legislation  relating  to  the  preservation  of 
infant  life,  to  the  protection  of  women 
and  children,  legislation  giving  the  people 
power  to  absolutely  prohibit  the  Hquor 
traffic,  amendments  to  factory  laws  and 
other  humane  enactments  have  received 
closer  attention  from  Parliament.  Con- 
trary to  all  expectations,  the  women's 
vote  has  been  aggressively  radical  in  its 
tendencies.  It  has  maintained  a  Liberal 
Government  in  power  for  sixteen  years, 
and  the  once  formidable  Opposition  of 
eighty  members  has  dwindled  to  about  a 
dozen  dismal  prophets  of  evil. 

The  configuration  of  the  country  de- 
prives us  of  any  navigable  rivers  with  the 
exception  of  the  Wairoa  and  the  Waikato 
in  the  extreme  northern  portion  of  the 
North  Island,  but  as  compensation  we 
have  many  rivers  of  considerable  volume 
which  have  a  fall  of  twenty-five  feet  to  the 
mile,  and  which  are  designed  by  nature 
to  become  the  sources  of  enormous  wealth 
in  electric  energy.  Our  rainfall  is  assured 
by  our  forests  and  mountains.  Drought 
is  unknown  here.  New  Zealand  is  the 
Switzerland  of  the  South  Pacific.  So 
varied  is  her  moimtain  scenery,  that 
Mount  Egmont,  rising  from  the  level 
plain  and  reaching  9,000  feet  above  sea 
level,  vies  in  its  perfect  symmetr}'  with  the 
Fujishama,  Japan's  famous  peak.  Mount 
Cook  towers  in  rugged  beauty  13,000  feet 
above  sea  level  and  crowns  a  range  of 
glacier-strewn  and  eternally  snow-clad 
peaks,  extending  in  an  unbroken  line  for 
450  miles  from  Nelson  to  the  Bluff. 
Switzerland  can  boast  of  more  peaks,  but 
she  has  none  which  exceed  ]Mount  Cook 
in  rugged  grandeur,  whilst  the  glaciers 
which  gather  around  its  base  are  more 
extensive  than  any  in  S%\-itzerland.  World 
famous  as  the  Norwegian  fjords  are, 
the  series  of  sounds  or  fjords  upon  the 
extreme  southwestern  coast-line  of  the 
South  Island  are  unparalleled  in  their 
sombre  majesty.  Milford  Sound  is  per- 
haps the  most  notable,  but  numerous 
fjords  of  rare  beauty  extend  over  more 
than  a  hundred  miles  of  coast.  Inland 
from  the  fjords  are  Lakes  Te  Anau,  Wa- 
katipu-Manapouri  and  Wanaka — all  gla- 
cier fed,,  all  extremely  beautiful.  Set  in 
a  circle  of  hill-land,  forest  clad  from  the 


water's  edge  to  the  snow-line,  they  reflect 
in  their  almost  fathomless  depths,  forest 
and  snow-capped  peaks  so  faithfully  as 
to  produce  weird  feelings  in  the  spectator. 
Passing  from  the  lavish  beauties  of  moun- 
tains, lakes,  fjords  and  forest,  we  have  at 
Rotorua  thermal  wonders  so  varied  as  to 
fear  no  comparison  with  those  of  Yellow- 
stone Park.  If  one's  mood  wearies  of 
such  fare,  then  our  mountain  streams, 
rivers  and  lakes  teem  with  fish,  nearly  all 
of  which  have  been  acclimatised.  Salmon 
trout  from  Britain  under  the  magic  in- 
fluences of  their  new  homes  attain,  as 
compared  with  an  average  weight  in 
Great  Britain  of  three  to  five  pounds,  the 
enormous  weight  of  twenty-five  and  some- 
times twenty-six  pounds.  American 
brook  trout,  rainbow  trout,  perch  and 
other  fish  abound,  and  after  many  years 
of  expensive  experiment  the  true  salmon 
has  been  successfully  introduced.  In 
many  parts  of  the  Colony,  notably  in 
Otago  and  Auckland  provinces,  stag- 
hunting  may  be  had  to  greater  perfection 
than  in  any  other  part  of  the  world.  If 
the  stag  is  not  royal  enough  to  satisfy  the 
sporting  instinct,  then  the  wild  boar  may 
be  hustled  on  many  a  mountain  side,  and 
no  monarch  of  mediaeval  times  ever  pur- 
sued nobler  game.  With  all  these  pos- 
sessions and  potentialities,  is  it  any  wonder 
that  the  900,000  people  who  inhabit  New- 
Zealand  are  jealous  of  their  birthright? 
No  Chinaman  may  enter  the  countr}-  with- 
out paying  one  hundred  pounds  as  a  poll 
tax.  Although  the  number  is  decreasing, 
a  demand  is  growing  for  legislation  which 
will  bar  them  entering  any  business  or- 
dinarily carried  on  by  Europeans,  and 
which  will  induce  them  to  return  to  the 
land  of  lanterns.  No  one  who  cannot 
speak  English  and  comply  with  certain 
educational  tests  is  permitted  to  land  in 
the  Colony.  No  known  consumptive  can 
enter.  These  restrictions  upon  immigra- 
tion are  vigorously  applied,  and  a  policy 
of  exclusion  of  aliens  is  endorsed  by  all 
classes. 

Whilst  few  public  men  have  called 
themselves  "socialists,"  the  legislation  of 
the  last  fifteen  years  has  been  strongly 
socialistic,  and  our  legislative  tendencies 
are  increasingly  socialistic.  Not  only  has 
the  State  established  weU-equipped    ma- 


450 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


temity  homes,  but  it  trains  nurses  skilled 
in  midwafery,  who  are  available  at  reason- 
able fees  to  go  to  sparsely  settled  districts. 
The  cradle  is  the  keen  concern  of  the 
State,  and  all  colonists  of  sixty-five  years 
of  age  who  have  been  in  the  Colony 
twenty  years,  and  whose  total  annual  in- 
come does  not  exceed  sixty  poimds,  re- 
ceive an  old-age  pension,  the  maximum 
pension  being  ten  shilUngs  a  week. 

Peace  in  the  industrial  world  is  assured, 
and  all  disputes  must  be  referred  to  an 
Arbitration  Court,  consisting  of  a  Supreme 
Court  Judge  and  two  representatives  se- 
lected by  employer  and  employee  respect- 
ively. 

Nearly  all  our  public  works,  such  as  the 
construction  of  roads,  bridges  and  rail- 
ways, are  carried  out  by  labour  directly 
employed  by  the  Government.  The  men 
work  on  the  co-operative  plan.  This  sys- 
tem has  been  in  vogue  for  thirteen  years, 
and  although  the  rate  of  construction  is 
certainly  slower  and  the  cost  almost  cer- 
tainly higher  than  under  the  contract 
system,  there  is  little  desire  to  revert  to  the 
latter.  There  are  2,400  miles  of  railways 
in  the  Colony,  all  of  which  is  owned  and 
operated  by  the  State  for  the  common 
good.  The  telephone,  telegraph  and  postal 
system  are  also  exclusively  owTied  and 
operated  by  the  State.  The  State  carries 
on  in  the  public  interest  and  in  competi- 
tion with  private  enterprise,  fire,  life  and 
accident  insurance.  It  mines  coal,  and, 
besides  supphing  the  requirements  of  the 
State  railways,  has  State  coal  depots  in 
all  the  chief  centres.  Its  Public  Trustee 
administers  thousands  of  deceased  per- 
sons' estates,  and  in  many  other  direc- 
tions all  the  people's  interests  are  elevated 
aboye  what  has  hitherto  been  regarded 
as  the  right  of  individuals. 

Our  land  is  not  more  than  sufficient  in 
area  to  supply  the  demands  of  our  own 
people.  We  cannot  induce  people  to 
throw  in  their  lot  wnth  us  by  offering  them 
free  land.  We  have  not  got  it,  and  the 
general  temper  of  the  Colony  is  against 
encouraging  a  large  increase  in  popula- 
tion by  immigration.  Further,  the  value 
of  land  here  is  high,  and  a  man  requires 
considerable  capital  if  he  is  to  go  upon  the 
land  %\'ith  prospects  of  success.  There 
are  still  forest  lands  in  the  possession  of 


the  Crown  which  may  be  purchased  or 
leased  cheaply,  but  the  conditions  of  set- 
tlement require  men  and  women  of  ex- 
ceptional \agour  and  persistency  to  suc- 
ceed. In  the  settled  portions  of  the 
Colony,  land  is  dear  and  values  are  de- 
termined by  the  values  on  the  London 
market  of  our  wool,  meat,  butter,  cheese 
and  grain.  In  spite  of  these  advantages, 
we  have  quite  enough  hapless,  unfortu- 
nate and  \icious  people  to  form  diminutive 
social  problems. 

The  aboriginal  population  of  New  Zea- 
land is  worthy  of  special  reference.  To- 
day there  are  43,000  Maoris,  inclusive 
of  men,  women  and  children.  Although 
some  recent  census  returns  appeared  to 
prove  that  their  number'  was  shghtly  in- 
creasing, it  is  almost  certain  the  supposed 
increase  was  due  to  a  more  carefully  taken 
census.  When  they  pass,  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  native  races  ever  discovered 
will  have  closed  its  career.  When  the 
Maori  arrived  in  these  islands,  no  one 
knows.  Tradition  gives  a  probable  date, 
stretching  back  some  three  centuries. 
How  they  came  here  is  an  easy  matter  to 
solve.  It  is  clear  they  came  over  sea 
from  the  South  Sea  Islands,  perhaps  from 
Samoa  or  Hawaii.  They  excel  in  sea- 
manship, and  as  makers  and  users  of 
canoes,  they  are  exceedingly  proficient. 
When  they  came  and  whence  will  always 
afford  food  for  controversy,  but  opinions 
as  to  their  character  do  not  vary.  The 
equable  climate  and  abundant  food  sup- 
plies of  which  they  became  possessed  on 
reaching  these  shores,  must  have  exerted 
tremendous  influences  upon  them.  They 
are  to-day  one  of  the  most  stalwart  races 
extant.  They  are  in  times  of  peace  or 
war,  humane,  generous  and  foolishly  cour- 
ageous. The  occasions  upon  which  Euro- 
peans and  ^Maoris  have  made  war  upon 
each  other  have  established  the  Maoris  in 
the  esteem  of  their  foes  as  a  chivalrous 
people.  Their  love  of  fighting  is  only  ex- 
ceeded by  their  sense  of  fair  play.  Upon 
occasions  when  European  troops  who 
were  besieging  ^laori  strongholds  ran  out 
of  ammunition  and  ceased  firing,  the 
Maoris  have  sent  out  a  messenger  under 
a  flag  of  truce  to  ascertain  why  firing  was 
suspended.  Upon  learning  the  reason,  it 
is   recorded   that   thev   offered   to   share 


THE   BRITAIN   OF   THE   SOUTH 


451 


their  ammunition  so  that  the  fight  could 
be  continued.  Upon  one  memorable  oc- 
casion, the  officer  commanding  the  attack- 
ing force  sent  an  offer  to  the  Maori  chief 
in  a  beleaguered  Pah,  or  stockaded  native 
village,  which  was  well  nigh  starved  out 
by  the  siege,  to  permit  the  women  and 
children  to  remove  to  a  position  of  safety. 
The  offer  was  declined,  the  women  and 
children  declaring  that  they  preferred  to 
fight  with  their  men  folk.  Then  a  more 
generous  settlement  was  offered  if  the 
Maoris  would  surrender,  but  the  reply 
came  from  the  indomitable  chief,  as  he 
shouted  it  defiantly  to  the  peace  messenger, 
"We  will  fight  for  ever." 

Many  shipwrecks  upon  the  rocky  coasts 
of  New  Zealand  have  afforded  the  Maoris 
opportunity  for  exhibiting  brilliant  hero- 
ism. They  are  expert  swimmers  and 
they  have  rescued  scores  of  seamen  from 
death.  On  one  famous  occasion  a  yoimg 
Maori  chieftainess  made  sixteen  journeys 
from  shore  to  a  wreck,  each  time  rescuing 
a  seaman.  By  this  means  the  whole  crew 
of  the  barque  were  saved.  This  signal 
feat  aroused  keen  enthusiasm,  and  the 
Maori  "Grace  Darling"  was  the  modest 
recipient  of  a  very  handsome  public  pres- 
entation. It  will  be  easily  understood 
how  the  possession  of  such  qualities  have 
permitted  the  mingling  of  the  races  so  far 
as  friendship  is  concerned.  There  is 
practically  no  intermingling  by  marriage, 
and  the  half-caste  population  is  very  small, 
but  the  utmost  good  feeling  exists  be- 
tween the  races  here.  No  suspicion  of 
coloiu*  line  exists.  There  is  no  position 
in  the  public  service  to  ^Yhich  a  Maori  may 
not  aspire,  and  numbers  of  them  have 
passed  through  our  colleges  with  distinc- 
tion. The  Maori  probably  reaches  a 
higher  level  of  mental  capacity  than  any 
other  native  race  hving  to-day.  Despite 
all  these  facts,  it  is  certain  that  a  few  de- 


cades will  see  the  Maori  extinct.  No 
architectural  or  scientific  monuments  will 
remain  to  perpetuate  their  memory,  but 
the  European  population  of  this  land  will 
always  be  able  to  derive  enjoyment  from 
the  knowledge  that  the  law  of  justice 
governed  the  relations  of  the  races,  and 
in  the  mythology  and  traditions  of  the 
Maori  race  we  shall  always  find  the  pleas- 
lu-es  which  attach  to  melody  and  lofty 
imagination. 

British  parliamentary  institutions  are 
not  the  only  motherland  predilection  we 
have  developed.  Our  sports  are  those 
of  Great  Britain  and  they  flourish  amaz- 
ingly. Cricket,  football,  horse-racing, 
bowling,  hockey,  tennis,  golf  and  rowing 
are  vigorously  indulged  in  by  all  classes. 
Although  we  have  less  than  a  million  peo- 
ple, 300,000  are  town  dwellers.  The  con- 
figuration of  the  country  has  prevented  a 
capital  city  from  coming  into  existence 
We  have  four  chief  cities — Auckland  at 
the  extreme  northern  end  of  the  North 
Island  and  Wellington  at  the  south,  have 
populations  of  67,000  and  55,000  respect- 
ively. In  the  South  Island,  Christchurch 
and  Dunedin  are  the  chief  cities,  with 
populations  of  60,000  and  53,000  respect- 
ively. This  geographical  factor  renders 
the  crowded  city  hfe  of  older  countries 
impossible  for  us.  All  our  cities  have 
modem  services — electric  tramways,  and 
light,  public  libraries,  museums  and 
art  galleries.  Our  municipal  and  State 
pohtics  are  free  from  the  taint  of  graft. 
As  the  people  succeed  in  freeing  them- 
selves of  the  prejudices  for  forms,  cere- 
monies and  institutions  which  they  or 
their  parents  knew  in  England,  the 
democracy  of  New  Zealand  will  become 
ideal  so  far  as  public  institutions  go;  and 
few,  if  any,  of  the  oversea  possessions  of 
the  British  Empire  should  contain  a  more 
prosperous,   contented  or  happy  people. 


Worry-the  Disease  of  the  Age 


By  DR.  C.  W.  SALEEBY 


Giving  the  philosophy  of  holidaying  and  hobby-hunting — worry 
and  its  relation  to  insanity 


III.— WORRY  AND  HEALTH  OF  MIND 

N  studying  the  influence  of 
worry  upon  the  infectious 
diseases  and  upon  the  pro- 
cess of  infection  itself,  we 
are  concerned,  after  all,  with 
that  kind  of  disease  which  is  becoming 
less  and  less  important;  whilst  there  re- 
mains another  kind  of  disease,  the  im- 
portance of  which  is  daily  increasing. 
In  the  present  chapter  I  wish  to  con- 
sider worry  in  its  relation  to  the  mind 
diseased,  and  we  shall  use  this  phrase 
to  cover  the  whole  realm  of  mental  dis- 
order, ranging  from  even  the  mere  in- 
ability to  work  as  hard  as  usual  to  in- 
sanity itself. 

But  first  I  purpose  to  throw  in  the 
very  forefront  of  this  article  the  question 
of  what  may  be  called  the  hygiene  of 
the  mind  in  so  far  as  worry  bears  upon 
it.  It  would  be  useless  merely  to  say 
that  the  mind  must  be  protected  from 
the  influences  of  worr}'  by  a  careful  ad- 
herence to  the  injunction  not  to  worry. 
This  would  be  of  no  more  practical  value 
than  would  a  mere  unsupplemented 
demonstration  of  the  potency  of  worry 
in  this  respect.  But  fortunately  there 
is  an  extremely  famihar  practical  ques- 
tion which  reciirs  in  regular  fashion  in 
the  experience  of  each  of  us,  and  which 
has  an  immediate  bearing  on  this  ques- 
tion. Let  us  here  inquire,  without  fur- 
ther delay,  into  the  philosophy  of  holiday- 
ing. Let  us  ask  what  a  holiday  really  is 
worth,  and  what  are  the  conditions  in 
which  its  worth  may  be  most  fully  real- 
ised. This  is  a  subject  true  notions  of 
which  must  necessarily  be  of  value  to 
everyone  who  possesses  them. 

The  first  question  to  answer  is  as  to 
what  constitutes  the  essential  of  a  holi- 
day?    What    is   a    hoHday?     We    must 

452 


reject  any  definition  which  does  not 
cover  all  the  cases,  and,  if  possible, 
must  find  one  which  gets  to  the  heart 
of  the  matter.  If  we  do  get  there  we 
shall  find,  I  wager,  that  our  whole 
conception  of  all  real  and  necessary 
holidaying  must  be  framed  in  terms 
of  worr}^ 

For  some  men  a  holiday  may  consist 
in  rest  from  any  kind  of  set  occupation. 
Their  holidays  are  constituted  by  lying 
in  a  hammock  with  a  handkerchief  over 
the  head,  an  imread  book  slipping  from 
the  fingers,  and  the  senses  occupied  by 
nothing  more  than  the  sleepy  hum  of 
summer  flies.  If,  in  the  course  of  such 
a  holiday,  one  sleeps  very  nearly  the 
round  of  the  clock,  it  is  none  the  worse 
for  that.  This  may  not  constitute  the 
reader's  notion  of  a  holiday;  and  it  is 
very  far  from  constituting  mine;  but 
for  those  whom  it  happens  to  suit,  the 
dolce  jar  niente  is  a  holiday  of  the  best. 

On  the  other  hand,  another  man's 
holiday — by  which  he  may  profit  no 
less  than  his  lazy  neighbour  by  his — 
may  consist  in  a  cricket  tour,  including 
an  enormous  amount  of  physical  work. 
Yet  another  will  travel,  covering  almost 
impossible  distances  and  seeing  an  in- 
credible number  of  things.  Judged  in 
physical  terms,  such  holidays  as  these  are 
the  very  antithesis  of  the  first  kind  of 
holiday  I  have  described.  In  the  one 
case  there  is  the  minimum  expenditure 
of  physical  energy-;  in  the  other  cases, 
there  is  the  expenditure  of  perhaps  a 
dozen  times  the  customar}-  amount. 
Yet,  as  everyone  knows,  these  varying 
procedures  all  constitute  true  holidays 
for  those  whom  they  respectively  suit. 
Plainly,  then,  any  physical  or  merely 
niusadar  criterion  of  a  hoUday  is  a  matter 
of  accident  and  not  of  essence.  In  an- 
swering the  question,  What  is  a  holiday? 


WORRY— THE    DISEASE    OF   THE   AGE 


453 


we  must  turn  from  the  physical  to  the 
psychical — from  matter  to  mind. 

Is  a  holiday,  then,  constituted  by 
freedom  from  mental  work?''  Directly 
we  think  of  it,  we  see  that  we  have  not 
yet  reached  an  essential  definition.  One 
man's  idea  of  a  holiday  is  freedom  for 
mathematical  research;  another  longs 
for  his  holiday  because  he  is  to  have  the 
pleasure  of  writing  a  book  therein;  yet 
another  will  swear  to  read  no  printed 
word  that  he  can  avoid  for  six  weeks, 
nor  ever  to  take  pen  in  hand,  and  he 
also  may  obtain  a  genuine  and  effective 
holiday.  Plainly,  then,  as  the  physical 
method  of  estimating  a  holiday  failed 
us,  so  also  does  the  method  by  estimation 
of  mental  work  done  or  not  done. 

Yet  certainly  it  is  in  the  realm  of  mind 
that  we  must  remain  if  we  are  to  discover 
the  one  fact  which  is  common  to,  and 
which  is  the  only  essential  of,  all  forms 
of  hohday.  It  is  some  state  of  mind  or 
other  that  really  constitutes  a  holiday — 
and  what  is  that?  Well,  it  is  certain 
that  one  may  lock  oneself  up  in  one's 
room  and  Lave  a  superb  holiday;  one 
may  go  to  bed  with  some  not  too  un- 
reasonable illness,  such  as  a  simple  frac- 
ture, and  may  have  a  holiday  of  the 
best;  or,  on  the  other  hand,  one  may 
travel  abroad,  meeting  one's  business 
letters  at  each  Poste  Restante,  covering 
many  miles,  seeing  many  new  things, 
and  yet  not  holidaying  at  all.  As  I  have 
repeatedly  stated  elsewhere,  the  business 
man  on  a  holiday,  if  he  is  wise,  will  not 
let  anyone  know  where  he  is.  He  is 
to  be  pursued  neither  by  post,  nor  tele- 
graph, nor  telephone.  "If  his  busi- 
ness worries  are  to  follow  him,  he  will 
do  much  better  to  stay  at  home  and 
tackle  them  with  the  conveniences  which 
that  implies.  The  deadly  thing  in  mod- 
em life  is  worry,  and  worry  is  more 
deadly  on  holiday  than  anywhere  else, 
besides  making  the  name  a  farce.  Worry 
and  responsibility  are  very  nearly  one; 
and  thus  the  wise  doctor  on  hoUday  will 
not  be  caught  revealing  his  profession." 

We  have  discovered,  then,  what  really 
constitutes  a  holiday,  and  the  discovery 
is  a  capital  one,  leading  to  many  inter- 
esting conclusions.  To  holiday  is  to  be 
free  from  worry.     Every  kind  of  holiday. 


wherever  and  however  spent,  possesses 
this  character,  and  no  proceedings  which 
do  not  possess  it  can  constitute  a  holiday. 
It  follows  that  the  unemployed  rich,  for 
instance,  or  such  of  them  as  are  free 
from  any  kind  of  responsibility  or  cause 
of  worry,  cannot  hoHday;  it  is  not  merely 
that  they  cannot  enjoy  a  holiday,  but 
that  they  cannot  holiday  at  all.  No 
matter  what  devices  they  employ  or 
expenditure  they  vmdertake,  they  cannot 
obtain  that  sense  of  freedom  from  nor- 
mal worry  which  is  the  essence  of  a  holi- 
day, and  which  is  reserved  for  those  who 
have  work,  and  duties,  and  cares. 

Again,  it  follows  from  our  discovery 
that,  even  in  the  case  of  those  who  do 
a  large  amount  of  mental  work,  a  holiday, 
as  the  term  is  commonly  understood, 
may  be  totally  unnecessary.  ]SIany  men 
who  lead  the  intellectual  life  work  their 
brains  as  hard  as  ever  during  their 
holidays.  There  are  countless  instances 
on  record  of  such  men  who  never  wanted 
or  took  what  is  commonly  understood  by 
a  holiday,  and  who  lived  to  an  old  age, 
physically  and  intellectually  green.  The 
happy  few  whose  work  so-called  involves 
no  worry,  no  fear,  no  apprehension,  make 
holiday  every  day,  or  are  beyond  the 
need  of  hoHdays — which  you  please. 

For  convenience  we  may  express  our 
conclusions  in  a  very  terse  form,  if  we 
use  the  word  work  in  its  most  common 
sense.  Work  is  best  defined  as  anything 
that  one  has  to  do;  everything  else,  how- 
ever much  intellectual  or  physical  ac- 
tivity it  may  entail,  is  occupation,  em- 
ployment, divertissement,  or  anything 
else  you  care  to  call  it,  but  not  work. 
The  essence  of  a  holiday,  then,  is  the 
complete  suppression  of  the  normal 
struggle-for-existence  aspect  of  the  mind's 
work.  This  once  granted,  it  matters 
not  at  all  how  strenuously  you  employ 
yourself  at  anything  whatever  that  you 
do  for  the  love  of  it. 

I  fancy  that  some  readers  will  expect 
me,  in  discussing  worry,  to  insist  that  the 
modem  civiHsed  man  is  apt  to  overstrain 
his  mind,  never  giving  it  a  real  rest.  I 
may  have  been  expected  to  declare  that 
strenuous  folk  must  learn  how  to  do 
nothing,  how  to  take  a  "real  holiday." 
But  I  do  not  believe  for  a  moment  that 


454 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


the  reality  of  a  holiday  depends  upon 
mental  rest.  I  believe  that  a  man  with 
a  competent  and  active  mind  is  in  no 
more  need  of  resting  that  mind  than  a 
batsman  who  has  already  made  ninety- 
nine  runs,  and  finds  himself  master  of 
the  bowling,  is  in  need  of  resting  his 
muscles.  On  the  contrary,  I  incline  to 
the  view  that  it  is  good  for  the  body  and 
for  the  mind  aUke  to  exercise  those  func- 
tions of  which  they  are  capable.  The 
batsman  about  to  make  his  century  will 
be  in  nowise  benefited  jby  being  deprived 
of  his  opportunity  to  complete  his  talc 
of  nms.  The  student  who  has  written 
all  but  the  crowning  chapter  of  a  book 
will  be  in  nowise  benefited  by  being 
deprived  of  his  opportunity.  The  man 
with  good  muscles,  the  man  with  a  good 
mind,  the  man  with  a  good  voice — in 
short,  the  man  who  is  capable  of  exer- 
cising without  strain  any  function  what- 
ever, does  well  in  general  to  do  so.  In 
contravention  of  the  common  views  on 
the  subject  may  be  noticed  the  very 
common  cases  of  men,  active,  vigorous, 
and  eager  in  mind,  who  have  done 
abundance  of  hard  work  for  years  and 
thrived  on  it,  and  who  then,  retiring  from 
business,  become  a  nuisance  to  them- 
selves and  their  families,  begin  to  overeat 
themselves,  fret,  fuss,  and  worry  about 
trifles,  and  deteriorate  in  body  and  in 
mind — all  in  consequence  of  a  hoHday 
which  was  premature,  and  was  therefore 
not  wanted. 

More  persistently  than  ever,  civilisation 
is  tending  to  produce  the  type  of  man 
whose  mind  will  not  be  content  with 
doing  nothing.  My  point  is  that  there 
is  no  need  for  him  to  do  nothing.  If, 
like  the  vast  majority  of  us,  he  has  work 
to  do — work  in  the  sense  of  whatever 
has  to  be  done  willy-nilly — he  must 
certainly  have  his  annual  holiday,  his 
aimual  period  of  discharge  from  such 
worry  as  is  normal  and  incidental  to  his 
work.  But  if  this  be  granted  it  does 
not  matter  how  hard  he  employs  his 
brain  for  fun.  He  may  play  as  much 
chess  as  he  pleases,  or  may  toy  with 
algebraic  formula,  may  write  the  most 
un-Miltonic  of  blank  verse,  or  compose 
the  most  stale  and  eflfete  and  laboured 
of   music;   he   may   drive   his   brain    as 


hard  as  he  pleases  in  any  direction  what- 
ever, provided  that  there  be  no  must 
driving  him,  no  worry,  no  fear  of  conse- 
quences, should  his  task  not  be  done  or 
not  be  done  well.  On  the  other  hand, 
he  may  be  one  of  those  vmfortunate  people 
who  will  worry  about  their  play,  who 
thus  transform  into  work,  as  we  have 
defined  work,  evervlhing  that  they  do. 
Such  a  man  on  holiday  joins  in  a  local 
cricket  match ;  he  is  in  a  state  of  nervous 
perspiration  before  he  goes  in  to  bat, 
and  he  mopes  all  the  afternoon  because 
his  partner  ran  him  out.  Precious  little 
good  the  cricket  has  done  him!  I  know 
a  man,  very  dear  to  me,  who  rather 
fancies  his  batting,  and  who  sometimes 
finds  it  diflScult  to  get  to  sleep  at  night 
because  he  happened  to  come  down  a 
fraction  of  a  second  too  late  upon  a 
fast  yorker  a  few  hours  before.  The  more 
fool  he!  Plainly  he  is  on  the  way  to 
taking  his  cricket  too  seriously,  convert- 
ing it  into  work  and  a  source  of  worry. 
Most  people  will  rightly  say  that  cricket 
is  an  ideal  recreation  for  the  brain- 
worker;  but  in  the  case  I  have  instanced 
the  brain-worker  would  be  much  better 
to  work  his  brains  harder  than  ever, 
as  at  chess,  rather  than  worry  when  he 
fails  to  get  runs.  Furthermore,  I  beheve 
that  there  is  no  evidence  to  support  the 
doctrine  which  assures  us  that  men 
kill  themselves  by  overwork.  Men  kill 
themselves  by  wony^  every  day,  but  not 
by  overwork  as  such.  For  most  brain- 
workers  there  is  no  better  holiday  than 
a  novel  intellectual  occupation,  provided 
that  it  be  absolutely  careless.  I  incline  to 
beheve  that  intellectual  labour  without 
worry  never  injured  anyone  yet,  and 
never  will.  I  also  believe  that,  just  as  the 
successful  business  man,  when  he  retires, 
is  apt  to  become  a  poor,  querulous  crea- 
t\ire,  worrying  about  the  most  ridiculous 
domestic  trifles,  so  also  the  ordinary 
brain-worker  who  accepts  the  common 
doctrine  that  in  order  to  hoHday  it  is 
necessar}'  to  give  the  brain  rest,  may  do 
himself  far  more  harm  than  good.  If 
Satan  finds  some  mischief  still  for  idle 
hands  to  do,  he  certainly  finds  some 
worr}'  still  for  the  idle  mind  to  endure; 
vmless,  of  course,  it  be  the  mind  of  an 
idler,  with  which  I  have  no  interest  or 


WORRY— THE    DISEASE   OF   THE    AGE 


45.5 


concern  here.  The  true  holiday  of  the 
brain-worker  must  not  consist  of  replacing 
something  by  nothing,  for  Nature  abhors 
a  vacuum,  and  will  fill  it  with  worry. 
It  must  include  the  provision  of  a  novel 
mental  occupation  in  sufficient  quantity, 
the  essential  character  of  that  occupation 
being  not  its  novelty,  but  the  fact  that 
there  is  no  worry  associated  with  it — 
it  is  done  for  jun. 

This  is  not  merely  a  question  of  the 
difference  between  working  for  money 
and  not  working  for  money.  A  man 
of  an  egotistic  type,  such  as  my  friend, 
may  do  the  greater  part  of  his  ordinary 
work  for  glor}-,  and  may  play  cricket 
with  the  same  motive.  \A'hen  his  cricket 
is  not  successful  he  worries  just  as  he 
would  worry  if  his  work  were  not  suc- 
cessful. There  is  all  the  difference  in  the 
world  between  this  state  of  mind  and 
that  of  the  cricketer  who  plays  the  game 
for  love  of  it  alone,  and  who,  if  he 
fails  to  score,  is  merely  disappointed. 
He  will  sleep  none  the  worse  for  that. 

Having  defined  the  process  of  holiday- 
making,  not  in  terms  of  matter  and 
motion,  as  is  commonly  done,  but  in 
terms  of  mind,  we  shall  find,  I  think, 
that  the  truer  definition  is  not  merely 
true  but  useful.  It  will  enable  us  to 
include  under  our  idea  of  holiday-making 
certain  occupations  which  would  never 
be  associated  with  holidaying  in  the 
opinion  of  those  w^ho  think  that  the 
essential  of  a  hohday  is  the  motion  of  a 
certain  amount  of  matter — one's  body — 
through  a  not  too  small  amount  of  space. 
I  wish  the  reader  to  include,  as  part  of 
the  hygienic  or  health-preserving  process 
which  we  now  understand  holida}ing  to 
be,  the  habit  of  hobby-hunting.  The 
importance  of  this  habit  daily  increases, 
just  as  the  importance  of  our  whole  sub- 
ject daily  increases.  Natvural  selection 
acts  nowadays  not  so  much  upon  the 
plane  of  muscle  as  upon  that  of  mind; 
not  upon  bra\\Ti,  but  upon  brain.  !More 
and  more,  therefore,  the  normal  or 
average  mental  type  departs  from  what  we 
may  call  the  bucolic  or  rustic  standard 
and  appro.ximates  to  the  civic  standard. 
The  man  who  is  happy  doing  nothing 
becomes  scarcer,  whilst  the  man  of 
curious,  busy,  and  active  mind  becomes 


more  common.  Now,  such  a  man  is  more 
and  not  less  prone  to  worry,  and  is  more, 
not  less,  in  need  of  freedom  from  worr}'; 
but  that  need  is  to  be  met  by  a  positive 
rather  than  a  merely  negative  process. 
The  annual  holiday  is  highly  desirable, 
but  it  is  very  necessary  for  the  modem 
man  to  remember  that  he  must  not  count 
upon  it  too  exclusively.  Every  day 
should  include  a  period  of  holiday-making; 
and  this  is  where  the  hobby  comes  in.  I 
am  only  at  one  with  practical  psycholo- 
gists and  physicians  in  general  when  I 
insist  upon  the  value  of  hobbies.  We  may 
distinguish  hobbies  from  sports,  per- 
haps, by  describing  the  first  as  mental 
recreations,  and  the  second  as  physical 
recreations.  It  is  because  of  the  needs 
foi  the  modern  mind  that  hobbies  are  so 
valuable.  I  have  already  spoken  of  the 
man  of  active  mind  who  retires  from 
business  on  some  particular  birthday — 
as  if  years,  of  all  things  n  the  world, 
constituted  the  criterion  of  age — and  I 
have  shown  how  such  a  man  may  suffer 
accordingly.  But  if  he  has  a  hobby, 
some  form  of  mental  occupation  which 
he  does  for  the  love  of  it — anticipating 
the  happy  future  state  to  which  I  look 
forward  when  -all  human  occupations 
w'ill  be  ends  in  themselves,  and  when  no 
one  will  do  uncongenial  w-ork  because  he 
must — the  case  is  totally  changed.  Such 
a  man  is  in  no  danger  of  suffering  rapid 
psychical  degeneration.  Similar,  also,  is 
the  case  of  the  man  who  has  to  work  for 
his  daily  bread  at  something  from  which 
worry  cannot  be  always  dissociated.  Such 
a  man  ver}^  frequently  will  find  that 
sports  or  physical  recreations  do  not  avail 
to  banish  from  his  mind  the  thought  of 
business  w^orries.  It  is,  indeed,  quite 
natural  that  as  mind  becomes  more 
important  and  body  less  important  in 
the  constitution  of  man,  amusements 
that  are  merely  physical  or  bodily  should 
cease  to  be  as  useful  as  they  are  in  the 
case  of  the  kitten  or  the  child.  In  short, 
the  average  worried  man  needs  some- 
thing more  than  mere  sport  or  play  as 
such.  His  imperative  demand  is  for  a 
new  mental  interest.  I  have  aheady  said 
that  Natvu-e  abhors  a  vacuum;  and 
this  aphorism  may  be  especially  appUed 
to  the  modem  mind.     It  must  be  filled 


456 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


with  something,  and  business  cares  will 
not  be  dispossessed  from  it  merely  be- 
cause the  body  which  it  owtis  happens 
to  be  s^nnging  dumb-bells.  They  must 
be  pushed  out  by  something  else.  Cer- 
tainly the  dumb-bells  will  suffice,  or  golf, 
or  any  form  of  sport,  if  they  happen  to 
arouse  sufficient  mental  interest  to  banish 
any  consciousness  of  the  ordinary  worries 
of  life.  The  mere  element  of  com- 
petition in  sport  is  often  quite  sufficient 
for  this  end,  since  man  is  a  competing 
animal  if  he  is  anything.  The  struggle 
for  existence  and  sexual  selection  between 
them  have  seen  to  that.  Hence,  very 
often  we  find  that  the  best  reUef  from 
the  serious  competitions  of  life,  entailing 
serious  worries,  is  to  be  found  in  the 
mock  serious  competition  of  games  and  t 
sports  with  their  mock  worries.  I  have 
already  adverted  to  the  danger  that  in 
some  people  the  mock  worries  may  be- 
come real  worries;  but  that  must  not 
be  permitted.  Nothing,  I  fancy,  mil  dis- 
possess a  real  worn-  better  than  a  mock 
worry — of  which  one  knows  quite  well, 
even  whilst  making  the  most  of  it,  as 
every  sportsman  does  when  he  tries  to 
win  a  game  for  his  side,  that  it  is  "only 
a  game,  after  all,"  and  does  not  matter. 
To  lose  gloriously  in  the  field  of  sport 
is  not  the  same  as  to  lose,  gloriously  or 
ingloriously,  in  the  field  of  real  life. 

But  many  men  find,  especially  as  they 
become  older,  that  they  cannot  take 
sport,  even  mock,  seriously  enough  for  it 
to  displace  the  ordinary  cares  of  life 
from  their  minds.  It  is  for  such  men 
that  a  hobby  is  a  real  salvation.  As  a 
man  grows  older  he  begins  to  "funk  fast 
bowling, "  or  to  find  that  his  goK  becomes 
worse,  and  so  soon  as  he  becomes  less 
skilful  he  ^all  derive  less  enjoyment  and 
benefit.  Fortunately,  however,  the  mind 
takes  much  longer  to  grow  old  than  the 
body,  and  when  the  sports  of  youth  or 
even  of  middle  age  fail,  a  man  may  turn 
to  one  or  other  of  a  thousand  hobbies, 
and  find  in  them  that  mental  interest 
which  will  give  him  every  day  a  holiday 
or  period  of  freedom  from  worry.  Let 
the  man  beware,  then,  who  too  thought- 
lessly permits  aU  his  intellectual  interests 
to  atrophy,  save  those  which  are  con- 
cerned with  his  work.     Do  not  let  him 


be  caught  saying,  "I  have  no  time  for 
music  nowadays,"  or  for  any  of  a  thou- 
sand other  things.  It  is  an  imperative 
necessity  for  the  average  modern  man, 
and  is  of  the  nature  of  an  investment  for 
coming  years,  that  he  shall  persistently 
cultivate  some  other  mental  interest  than 
that  which  the  worry  of  the  struggle 
for  existence  is  associated.  Such  a  mental 
interest,  though  apparently  not  utilitarian, 
and  though  not  cultivated  for  any  utiU- 
tarian  purpose,  will  yet  prove  to  be  a 
valuable  weapon  in  the  struggle-for-ex- 
istence  itself. 

I  have  already  said,  what  I  here  repeat 
as  forcibly  as  possible,  that  an  utterly 
false  influence  has  been  accredited  to 
brain-work  as  such  in  the  production  of 
nervous  breakdown  and  of  insanity.  I 
do  not  for  a  moment  believe  that  any 
case  of  nervous  breakdo^^Tl  or  of  actual 
mental  disease  was  ever  caused  in  a 
person  of  average  nervous  constitution 
by  mere  intellectual  labour  as  such.  It 
is  not  work  but  care  that  kills;  but  it  is 
highly  desirable  that  we  should  examine 
somewhat  more  critically  than  is  cus- 
tomar}'  the  proposition  that  men  are 
driven  mad  by  worr\\  If  I  were  merely 
to  emphasise  this  statement  in  this  form 
I  should  be  doing  my  readers  a  grave 
disservice  in  tending  to  perpetuate  the 
utterly  false  notion  of  insanity  which 
still  prevails  even  amongst  highly  edu- 
cated people.  The  pubUc  has  yet  to 
learn  the  paradox  that  mental  disease  is 
physical  disease.  The  causes  that  pro- 
duce physical  disease  in  stomach,  or 
lung,  or  heart,  may  produce  physical 
disease  in  the  brain,  and  the  expression 
of  that  physical  disease  is  mental  disease 
or  insanity.  The  overwhelming  majority 
of  cases  of  insanity  depend  absolutely 
upon  material  changes  in  the  brain  due 
to  the  circulation  of  some  poison  or 
other  in  the  blood.  Of  these  poisons 
the  most  important  is  alcohol — which, 
following  an  old  teacher  of  mine,  I  have 
elsewhere  called  the  toxin  of  the  yeast 
plant.  Scarcely  less  effective  are  the 
poisons  or  toxins  produced  by  many 
other  forms  of  lowly  plant  Hfe  which  we 
know  as  bacteria.  These  poisons  pro- 
duce physical  changes  in  the  brain  upon 
which  the  insanity  depends.     The  doc- 


1 


WORRY— THE   DISEASE   OF   THE   AGE 


4.57 


trine  that  worry  as  such  can  produce 
mental  disease  is  unintelligible  to  any- 
one acquainted  with  these  matters. 

Nevertheless,  we  can  state  the  facts  in 
a  more  rational  form.  We  begin  by  re- 
iterating that,  contrary  to  opinion,  over- 
work as  such  cannot  cause  insanity,  but 
can  do  so  only  by  first  causing  worry. 
We  must  then  proceed  to  say  that  worry 
as  such  cannot  be  conceived  to  cause 
insanity,  and,  in  point  of  fact,  does  not 
cause  insanity.  (I  am  now  using  the 
word  in  its  common  sense,  to  indicate 
the  really  grave  forms  of  mental  disease.) 
But  worry  has  its  ways  and  means  by 
which  it  can  and  does  cause  insanity; 
they  are  only  too  easily  enumerated,  and 
only  too  abundantly  illustrated  in  com- 
mon experience.  In  the  first  place,  worry 
is  a  potent  cause  of  insanity  because  it 
leads  to  the  use  of  drugs,  and  especially 
alcohol.  Other  aspects  of  this  distress- 
ing subject  are  treated  in  another  arti- 
cle. Here  I  need  merely  note  that  alco- 
hol stands  out  far  beyond  any  other  one 
factor  as  a  cause  of  insanity,  and  that 
worry  is  responsible  for  an  enormous 
amount  of  drinking.  Indirectly,  then, 
worry  is  a  terrible  common  cause  of  in- 
sanity, and  any  success  that  may  con- 
ceivably attend  our  study  of  it  will  be, 
in  its  measure,  success  in  attacking  one 
of  the  most  appalling  problems  of  our 
civilisation. 

Again,  worry  is  a  most  potent  foe  of 
sleep,  and  lack  of  sleep  is  a  most  potent 
foe  of  sanity.  I  am  sometimes  inclined 
to  think  that  the  importance  of  sleep  in 
preserving  the  mental  health  has  been 
exaggerated  by  some  writers.  We  know 
that  before  an  attack  of  acute  mania, 
only  too  often  resulting  in  murder  and 
suicide,  a  man  commonly  passes  several 
sleepless  nights.  The  sleeplessness  is  not 
a  cause  of  his  madness,  however,  but  an 
early  symptom  of  it.  I  am,  indeed,  in- 
clined to  think  that  physical  health  suffers 
more  than  mental  health  from  lack  of 
sleep  as  such,  but  if  the  lack  of  sleep 


depends  upon  worry,  and,  still  more,  if 
drugs  are  resorted  to  in  order  that  sleep 
may  be  obtained,  the  cause  of  the  worry 
not  being  removed,  then  certainly  we 
have  a  potent  factor  in  the  production 
of  insanity.  Though  lack  of  sleep  in 
itself  is  insufficient,  I  believe,  to  cause 
insanity^as  is  surely  proved  by  the 
countless  bad  sleepers  who  do  not  lose 
their  mental  health — yet  it  is  certainly 
a  most  important  contributor}'  factor  in 
the  production  of  insanity  in  that  it 
makes  the  brain  far  more  susceptible 
than  it  would  otherwise  be  to  the  action 
of  such  poisons  as  may  beset  it.  In  a 
word,  it  lowers  brain  resistiveness.  The 
use  of  alcohol  and  other  drugs,  then,  and 
interference  with  sleep,  constitute  most 
frequent  and  eft"ective  means  by  which 
worry  leads  to  mental  disease  of  the 
graver  kinds. 

I  have  spoken  at  but  short  length  of 
the  actual  relations  between  worry  and 
grave  mental  disease.  This  has  been 
possible  since  the  intermediate  links  in 
the  chain  of  causation  are  discussed 
elsewhere.  On  the  other  hand,  I  have 
spoken  at  very  considerable  length  of 
the  condition  by  which  worn,- — such  as 
most  of  us  must  daily  encounter — may 
be  prevented  from  causing  the  minor 
degrees  of  mental  imhealth  or  mental 
lack  of  fitness.  In  a  word,  I  have  WTit- 
ten  less  of  the  pathology  than  of  the 
hygiene  of  the  subject.  This  is  right,  I 
think,  since  my  aim  here  Ms  primarily  to 
be  useful,  and  only  secondarily  to  pre- 
sent a  complete  account  of  the  subject. 
It  is  my  honest  belief  that  what  has  been 
said  regarding  the  preservation  of  mental 
health  by  means  of  well-de\nsed  holida3'S 
— that  is  to  say,  periods  of  perfect  freedom 
from  worry — can  scarcely  fail  to  be  of 
real  utility,  especially  to  many  hard- 
working and  conscientious  readers,  whose 
ideal  of  duty  scarcely  permits  them  any 
leisure  for  mental  recreation;  and  I  can 
certainly  ask  for  no  higher  reward  than 
to  serve  such  readers  as  these. 


{The  fourth  article  of  this  series  will  appear  in  tJie  April  Canadian  Magazine) 


Newfoundland  and  the  Dominion 


By   F.  A.  WIGHTMAN 


A  strong  plea  for  annexation,  with  an    estimate  oj  the 
Ancient  Colony's  eligibility 


HE  recent  frustration  of  New- 
foundland's plans  by  the  dis- 
allowing of  her  legislative 
acts  by  the  Colonial  Office 
in  favour  of  the  United  States, 
and  the  appeal  of  the  Colony  to  Canada's 
sympathy,  together  with  the  opinion  ex- 
pressed by  leading  English  journals  that 
confederation  with  Canada  is  the  only 
solution  of  Ne^^•foundland's  problem,  and 
the  only  true  policy  for  her  to  follow, 
brings  "the  Ancient  Colony"  prominently 
before  the  eyes  of  the  world,  especially 
before  Canadians.  Will  the  present  diffi- 
culty tend  to  bring  Confederation  nearer? 
is  a  question  perhaps  difficult  to  answer, 
but  an  affirmative  answer  would  probably 
be  the  more  correct.  This  being  so,  a 
brief  discussion  of  her  present  condition 
and  possible  future  may  not  be  untimely. 
That  this  important,  self-governing 
colony,  l>ang  so  near  our  coasts,  with 
such  a  community  of  interests,  and  in- 
spired by  common  aims,  should  have 
preferred  to  remain  outside  the  family  of 
federal  British.  Provinces  in  North  Am- 
erica is,  from  the  Canadian  standpoint, 
somewhat  surprising.  A  refusal  on  the 
part  of  British  Columbia  in  the  early 
days  to  enter  Confederation  can  be  under- 
stood, since  its  refusal  can  be  supported 
by  reasonable  objections;  but  this  distant 
and  isolated  Pacific  colony,  with  all  its 
vastness,  was  the  first  to  seek  admission, 
and  time  has  amply  justified  her  decision. 
It  would  be  impossible  here  to  give  even 
an  outhne  of  all  the  reasons  which  in- 
fluenced Newfoundland's  decision  at  that 
time.  As  seen,  however,  in  the  light  of 
the  present,  and  in  view  of  subsequent 
years,  these  reasons  do  not  seem  to  have 
been  well  considered,  or  her  present  posi- 
tion justified.  It  is  true  that  at  the  time 
of  the  inaugviration  of  Confederation,  the 
interests  of  Newfoundland  were  not  so 

458 


closely  related  to  this  country  as  they  are 
to-day.  Her  commercial,  and  even  her 
social  interests  were  much  more  direct 
\yith  England  than  they  are  now.  Com- 
munication \\'ith  Canada  was  not  so  easy 
as  it  is  now,  and  not  so  frequent;  and 
this  isolation  was,  of  course,  detrimental 
to  the  cultivation  of  both  trade  and  senti- 
ment. Moreover,  Newfoundland  was  es- 
sentially a  fishing  country,  and  was  en- 
tirely dependent  on  the  outside  world  for 
the  commonest  articles  of  domestic  con- 
sumption. Canada  at  that  time  did  not 
bulk  very  large  as  a  manufacturing  or 
food-producing  country,  and  afforded  ab- 
solutely no  market  for  the  products  of  the 
"Ancient  Colony."  Under  these  circum- 
stances, with  the  prospects  of  Federal 
tariffs  imposed  on  the  imported  food  sup- 
ply, there,  of  course,  seemed  little  advan- 
tage to  Newfoundland  in  entering  the 
Dominion.  Tliis,  together  with  the  fact 
that  Confederation,  even  in  Canada,  was 
an  experiment  which  even  some  Canadian 
leaders  regarded  as  having  very  doubtful 
advantages,  rendered  the  situation  still 
more  difficult  with  respect  to  Newfound- 
land. It  must  be  admitted,  therefore, 
even  if  subsequent  events  do  not  justify 
the  position,  that  at  that  time  there  was 
considerable  force  in  these  opposing  argu- 
ments. 

Sufficient  as  the  foregoing  obstacles 
may  have  been,  it  is  not  at  all  certain  that 
they  were  the  chief  determining  factors  in 
the  influencing  of  pubHc  opinion  at  that 
time.  Certainly  they  did  not  present  the 
strongest  barrier  to  the  success  of  the 
Federal  movement.  This  is  credited, 
whether  right  or  uTong,  to  have  been 
furnished  by  the  prejudice  and  power  of 
the  wealthy  fish  merchants  of  the  Colony, 
who  saw  in  Confederation  a  menace  to 
their  monopolies  and  opportunities  for 
still  greater  gains.     The  influence  exerted 


NEWFOUNDLAND   AND   THE   DOMINION 


4.59 


by  these  merchant  princes  was  almost  in- 
credible. Most  persons  in  the  Colony 
were  virtually  their  slaves  and  entirely  at 
their  mercy.  They  paid  out  little  or  no 
money,  and  the  system  of  barter  kept  the 
poor  iisher-folk  generally  in  debt  for  their 
supplies.  Being  in  debt,  they  were  under 
obligation,  and  being  under  obligation, 
their  independence,  and  even  their  man- 
hood, was  largely  taken  away.  The 
situation  was  intensified  by  the  fact  that 
fishing  was  practically  the  only  industry 
carried  on  in  the  Colony.  There  was 
nothing  else  by  which  men  could  earn  a 
livelihood.  It  is  all  too  easy  to  under- 
stand how  selfish  and  wealthy  corpora- 
tions would  take  advantage  of  these  con- 
ditions to  influence  public  opinion  to  side 
with  their  own  interests.  Neither  is  it 
difficult  to  understand  the  ease  with 
which  it  could  be  accomplished  by  these 
monopolists  among  an  ill-informed  and 
dependent  population.  Under  these  cir- 
cumstances it  is,  perhaps,  not  difficult  to 
understand  how  Newfoundland  was  led 
to  refuse  the  advantages  of  Confederation 
at  the  first. 

Real  as  these  difficulties  may  have 
seemed  thirty-five  years  ago,  they  have, 
both  real  and  imaginary,  now  almost 
wholly  disappeared,  and  to-day  a  large 
section,  it  is  said,  of  both  political  parties 
in  Newfoundland,  are  in  favour  of  becom- 
ing a  part  of  the  Dominion.  It  is,  there- 
fore, in  order  that  we  should  speak  of 
some  of  the  material  advantages  that 
might  be  expected  to  result  from  a  union 
of  that  Colony  with  the  Dominion,  not  to 
mention  the  many  painful  experiences 
which  might  have  been  averted  in  her 
subsequent  history. 

So  far  as  Canada  is  concerned,  it  has 
been  claimed  that  the  chief  reasons  for 
this  union  are  of  a  sentimental  rather 
than  of  a  material  character.  To  some 
extent  this  may  be  true,  and  yet  it  must 
not  be  supposed  that  the  material  ad- 
vantages to  Canada  would  not  be  of  con- 
siderable importance.  Briefly  stated,  they 
would  appear  to  be  as  follows:  The  in- 
creasing of  the  prestige  of  the  Dominion 
abroad,  for  such  is  the  inevitable  result  of 
an  acquisition  of  territory.  In  addition 
to  Newfoundland  proper,  there  would  also 
be  brought  into  the   Dominion    eastern 


Labrador,  adding  materially  to  the  area, 
and  quite  possibly  to  the  resources  of  this 
country.  The  trade  of  Canada  with  the 
Island  of  Newfoundland  would  be  placed 
on  a  secure  and  permanent  basis.  When 
it  is  considered  that  very  few  of  the  225,- 
000  inhabitants  of  that  island  are  engaged 
in  agriculture  or  manufacturing,  their 
needs  along  these  lines  will  be  seen  to  be 
very  great.  At  present,  considerable  por- 
tions of  this  trade  go  to  foreign  coun- 
tries. The  greatest  of  all  advantages, 
however,  accruing  to  Canada  would  be  in 
the  uniting  of  the  fisheries  of  British 
North  America  under  one  general  govern- 
ment. 

Notwithstanding  the  great  disparity  in 
the  size  of  the  two  countries,  the  fisheries 
of  Newfoundland  are  about  equal  to  the 
Atlantic  fisheries  of  the  Dominion.  Under 
these  conditions  it  is  difl&cult,  if  not  im- 
possible, for  Canada  to  treat  with  other 
countries,  and  especially  with  the  United 
States,  as  advantageously  as  she  might. 
The  union  of  these  great  fishing  interests 
in  the  North  Atlantic  would  place  in  the 
hands  of  British  North  America  a  mighty 
lever,  by  which  favourable  international 
trade  privileges  could  be  secured.  The 
strategic  position  of  Newfoundland,  as 
commanding  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence,  is 
also  a  matter  worthy  of  consideration. 

It  is  true  that  as  an  offset  to  these  ad- 
vantages the  Federal  Government  would 
be  under  the  necessity  of  e.xpending  large 
sums  of  money  in  giving  adequate  pro- 
tection to  the  fisheries,  the  postal,  marine, 
and  pubUc  works  departments,  as  well  as 
that  of  transportation,  being,  for  some 
time  at  least,  called  upon  to  provide  a 
more  efficient  service  than  now  prevails. 
The  terms  of  entrance  would,  no  doubt, 
also  demand  a  large  Federal  subsidy. 
The  advantages  to  Newfoundland  from 
such  a  union  are  still  more  obvious.  If 
the  reasons  of  a  sentimental  kind  are  not 
vet  so  strong  there  as  here,  the  material 
ones  would  seem  to  be  much  greater. 
Newfoundland  would  be  called  upon  to 
sacrifice  neither  British  connection  nor  in- 
dividual autonomy,  but  would  be  united 
in  a  new  bond  of  Federal  sisterhood. 

If  some  small  sources  of  revenue  were 
taken  away,  she  would,  on  the  other  hand, 
be  relieved  of  many  great  responsibilitie.s 


460 


THE  CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


by  way  of  expenditure  for  public  services. 
These  demands  have,  in  the  past,  brought 
Newfoundland  more  than  once  to  the 
verge  of  bankruptcy.  The  character  of 
the  country  is  such  that  they  are  very 
great,  and  a  rehef  from  them  could  not  be 
anything  but  a  distinct  advantage.  Be- 
sides, under  Federal  control,  they  would 
be  expected  to  be  greatly  improved. 
The  credit  of  the  Colony,  as  an  integral 
part  of  the  Dominion,  would  doubtless 
improve  abroad,  whereby  Provincial  loans 
could  be  secured  at  a  lower  rate  of  in- 
terest. Her  Provincial  administration 
would  be  greatly  economised,  and  her 
own  sons  would  be  called  to  fill  the 
gubernatorial  chair.  The  abilities  and 
aspirations  of  her  statesmen  would  fijid 
abundant  scope  in  the  arena  of  Dominion 
politics,  and  would  have  within  their 
reach  all  the  possibilities  a  great  nation 
has  to  offer.  The  Dominion  civil  service 
would  be  open  to  her  young  men,  and  her 
magnificent  resources  would  have  all  the 
advantages  of  survey  afforded  by  the 
Geological  Department  of  Canada.  An- 
other great  advantage,  and  perhaps  the 
greatest  of  all,  would  be  the  larger  im- 
portance attaching  to  her  claims  upon  the 
Colonial  Administration.  If  the  French 
Shore  question  had  been  a  Dominion 
question,  it  seems  only  rea-sonable  to  sup- 
pose that  at  a  much  earher  date  it  would 
have  received  the  consideration  its  im- 
portance demanded.  The  same  may  be 
said  of  the  more  recent  dispute  with  the 
United  States. 

Notwithstanding  Newfoundland's  pres- 
ent attitude,  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that 
she  is  wholly  insensible  to  these  advan- 
tages or  wholly  oblivious  to  the  strength  of 
the  sentiment  which  makes  imion  so  de- 
sirable. Though  the  question  is  quies- 
cent at  the  present  time,  it  is  not  dead. 
In  Prince  Edward  Island  Confederation 
was  consummated  within  two  years  of  the 
passing  of  a  declaration  that  it  was  un- 
desirable. When  it  seemed  the  farthest 
away  it  was  the  nearest  at  hand.  So  it 
will  probably  be  with  Newfoundland. 
The  question  will  become  a  political  issue 
at  some  unexpected  time,  and  the  event 
that  has  been  delayed  for  the  third  of  a 
century  will  suddenly  come  to  pass.  We 
speak   confidently   of   this   question,   be- 


cause manifest  destiny  seems  to  point  so 
clearly  to  this  conclusion.  It  is  certainly 
one  of  the  possibilities  of  the  century,  and 
of  the  not  distant  future. 

The  foregoing  discussion  of  Newfound- 
land's relations  to  the  Dominion  renders 
appropriate  a  brief  description  of  the 
chief  features  and  resources  of  that  im- 
portant colony.  If,  according  to  Beckles 
Willson,  she  is  the  tenth  island  from  the 
standpoint  of  area,  she  would  be  the  fifth 
Province  of  the  Dominion,  as  at  present 
constituted,  in  size.  A  territory  so  ex- 
tensive, and  so  rich  in  resources,  cannot 
but  be  worthy  of  our  consideration.  Until 
within  recent  years,  this  great  island  was 
a  veritable  terra  incognita,  even  the  peo- 
ple who  had  been  born  and  brought  up 
on  her  shores  knew  nothing  of  the  interior 
of  the  country  in  which  they  lived.  This 
has  now  been  entirely  changed.  The 
country  has  been  completely  explored 
and  traversed  by  railways,  while  her  re- 
sources and  physical  features  are  fairly 
well  understood.  The  history  of  New- 
foundland is  most  romantic.  This  can 
be  imagined  when  we  remember  that  she 
is  England's  most  ancient  colony,  the 
nucleus,  so  to  speak,  around  which  has 
been  clustered  the  magnificent  Empire  of 
the  present  time.  If  Christopher  Colum- 
bus may  be  regarded  as  the  discoverer  of 
Central  and  South  America,  the  sighting 
of  the  shores  of  Newfoundland  by  John 
Cabot  may  be  regarded  as  the  discovery 
of  the  Northern  Continent.  These  shores 
were  visited  by  the  fishermen  of  many 
countries,  even  by  far-away  Portugal,  as 
soon  as  the  great  value  of  the  fisheries 
became  known.  In  1583,  however,  Eng- 
land finally  took  possession  of  the  country 
and  laid  the  foundations,  in  this  humble 
way,  of  her  great  Colonial  Empire. 

From  that  time  down  to  the  present, 
with  varying  vicissitudes,  the  history  of 
Newfoundland  has  been  a  constant  strug- 
gle upward,  through  many  difficulties,  to 
the  proud  position  she  occupies  to-day. 
An  insular  position,  a  somewhat  rigorous 
climate,  a  large  proportion  of  barren  soil, 
and,  worst  of  all,  restrictions  against  set- 
tlement and  French  Treaty  rights,  have  all 
stood  in  the  way  of  progress.  The  faith- 
ful, loyal  and  magnificent  perseverance 
with  which  these  difficulties   have  been 


AT   THE    GRAVE    OF   MUIR 


401 


met  and  overcome  cannot  fail  to  call  forth 
the  admiration  of  all  men.  They  speak  of 
qualities  of  mind  and  heart  which  place 
her  sons  in  the  very  front  rank  of  Anglo- 
Saxon  colonists.  Here  is  to  be  found,- 
perhaps,  when  skill  and  hardihood  and 
daring  are  required,  the  very  best  type  of 
seamen  produced  in  the  world.  Maritime 
Canada  may  well  be  regarded  as  sufficient 
to  form  the  bulwark  and  nursery  of  the 
British  Navy. 

Now  that  Newfoundland  is  feeling  the 
touch  of  twentieth  century  progress,  she 
is  found  to  be  something  more  than  a 
fishing  colony.  Her  resources  are  many 
and  great.  With  respect  to  copper,  coal 
and  iron,  she  is  said  to  contain  some  of 
the  richest  deposits  in  the  world.  In  the 
interior  there  are  vast  forests  of  spruce 
and  pine  suitable  for  both  lumber  and 
pulpwood,  and  which,  owing  to  the  prox- 
imity of  the  British  market,  must  give 
them  a  greater  value  than  like  areas  any- 
where else  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic. 
In  agricultural  possibilities,  too,  New- 
foundland is  found  not  to  be  the  barren 
wilderness  she  was  so  long  thought  to 
represent.  Many  beautiful  valleys  with 
most  fertile  soil  are  to  be  found  in  the 
Colony,  especially  on  the  western  coast. 
In  the  aggregate  there  are  said  to  be  7,000 
.  square  miles  of  agricultural  land,  which 
when  fully  occupied  must  represent  a  vast 
increase  in  population  and  add  much  to 
the  general  prosperity.  The  cL'mate  of 
the  country,   of  course,  varies  with  the 


cHlIerent  localities,  though  in  a  general 
way  it  may  be  said  to  compare  \ery  favour- 
ably with  other  portions  of  Eastern  Ca- 
nada. On  the  west  coast,  especially 
where  the  best  land  is  situated,  the  climate 
is  also  the  most  highly  favoured. 

St.  John's  is  already  a  fine  city,  with 
much  wealth  and  destined  to  have  a  great 
future,  occupying  the  most  easterly  point 
of  the  western  world.  But  of  this  we 
need  not  speak.  There  are  other  cities 
and  towns  of  considerable  importance, 
locally  called  outports;  of  these,  Harbour 
Grace,  Trinity  and  Bonavista  are  among 
the  most  important.  New  and  important 
centres  are  sure  to  rise.  On  the  line  of 
railway,  and  especially  the  west  coast,  the 
near  future  is  sure  to  witness  the  growth 
of  important  centres. 

Much  might  be  said  of  the  scenic  beauty 
and  sporting  attractions  of  this  great 
island.  The  folIo\\ang  will  suffice :  "Bavs 
stretching  inland  from  fifty  to  ninety 
miles  exhibit  a  wonderful  variety  of  views 
along  the  great  arms  which  project  in  all 
directions,  and  are  the  paradise  of  artists. 
Along  the  shores  the  lofty  cliffs  are  re- 
flected in  their  clear,  bright  waters,  and 
countless  islands,  sometimes  of  extraor- 
dinary beauty,  stud  their  bosom.  Thev 
bear  a  striking  resemblance  to  the  fjords 
of  Norway,  and  their  scenery  often  not 
less  magnificent.  Indeed,  both  countries 
present  so  many  points  of  resemblance 
that  Newfoundland  has  been  justly  named 
the  Norwav  of  the  New  World." 


At   the  Grave   of  Muir 


BY  J.  E.  B.  McCREADY 

"DLANT  here  a  maple  that  may  wave 

In  beauty  o'er  the  poet's  grave. 
Perchance  its  root  may  pierce  his  mould 
And  turn  its  leaves  to  richer  gold 
And  deeper  crimson.     So  their  flame 
Shall  blazen  forth  his  modest  fame 
To  distant  years,  and  in  their  fall, 
Spreading  anew  his  funeral  pall. 
Shall  speak  for  him  a  nation's  grief — 
Sweet  Laureate  of  the  Maple  Leaf ! 


The  Black  Fox  of  St.  Voltaire 


By  S.  A.  WHITE 


A  tale  that  only  one  person  really  believes  to  be  true,  but 
that  person  has  excellent  reason 


|AXELLE,  king  of  black 
foxes,  within  his  barred  cage 
in  the  town  park,  Kes  by 
the  sunlit  space  on  the  floor 
and  coaxes  warmth  into  his 
feeble  bones.  No  longer  can  he  see  the 
trading-post,  the  mission  beside,  or  even 
the  deep  pine  forest  through  which  once 
filtered  the  blue  smoke  of  Algonquin  camp- 
fires,  in\'isible  against  the  blue  of  the  sky. 
Nor  can  he  see  the  narrow  trail  of  the 
snow-shoe  worn  by  the  weary  trapper, 
bending  vmder  a  burden  of  pelts,  as  he 
came  winding  upward  towards  St.  Vol- 
taire at  w^hite  dusk  of  a  winter's  day. 

Instead  of  all  that,  he  sees  a  town 
sprawling  wide  where  the  fort  stood,  and 
shining  steeples,  windowed  towers  and 
red-black  chimneys  looming  skyward 
where  the  paUngs  stood  of  old.  Clang- 
ing forge  and  trip-hammer's  clash  fill 
the  valley  that  long  ago  knew  no  sound 
but  the  trapper's  forest  call,  wild  night 
warnings  from  the  prowling  wolf  or  the 
sudden  war  cry  of  raiding  Iroquois. 
Down  where  the  regal  pines  gave  back 
the  blue  lake  light  in  svmamer  and  check- 
ed the  sweep  of  the  ice-blast  in  winter, 
angular  saw-mills  mar  the  sheen  of  the 
waters,  and  the  bare,  limiber-bordered 
yards  but  eddy  the  wintry  gusts  into 
greater  fierceness.  Naxelle  knows  that 
were  the  patched  wigwams  here  now, 
they  would  frighten  him  as  of  yore,  flap- 
ping from  their  pegs  in  the  rushing  gale; 
that  were  the  mongrel  ciu"s  about,  the 
biting  wind  would  send  them  whimpering 
for  cover.  But  these  things  have  changed. 
The  tribes  have  vanished  with  the  forest; 
the  trading-post  has  been  swallowed  up  in 
the  jaws  of  commerce  and  the  thrilling, 
barbaric  pageant  of  the  savages,  fraught 
with  danger  and  episode,  has  faded  to 
the  material  present.  The  post  is  gone 
T\ath    those   it   knew.    The   picturesque 

462 


weirdness  is  a  dim  tradition,  a  sort  of 
legendary  lore  for  the  fireside  and  the 
wine.  The  leading  actors  in  this  wild- 
wood  drama  of  years  ago  perished  with 
the  place  in  the  Iroquois  attack  on  the 
mission.  Not  one  of  the  striking  histor- 
ical figures  who  wove  their  personal 
courage  and  magnetism  into  the  web 
of  the  ever-changing  years  remains  as  a 
link  to  connect  the  visible  with  the 
vanished — not  one,  save  Naxelle.  Nax- 
elle was  young  once.  That  was  in 
the  days  of  St.  Voltaire;  the  St.  Voltaire 
that  dragged  the  reach  of  civilisation  and 
Christianity  upon  its  heels,  while  its  hands 
stretched  into  the  wilderness  ahead. 

Among  the  hunters  and  traders  of  St, 
Voltaire  none  could  match  Ramon  Ga- 
brielle.  His  was  the  quickest  hand,  the 
surest  eye,  the  most  untiring  frame.  His 
tale  of  furs  ran  much  farther  than  any 
two  of  the  others  at  the  moon's  end. 
There  was  no  inhabitant  of  valley,  ridge 
or  wood  who  could  outwit  him.  The 
slinking  sable,  the  timid  beaver,  the  wily 
otter  could  not  escape  him.  In  the 
animal  world  there  were  none  to  match 
this  man  in  cunning — not  until  he  met 
Naxelle. 

One  evening  in  the  quiet  winter  twi- 
light Ramon  was  nearing  the  post  after 
a  day  of  rovmds.  As  he  ascended  the 
slope  that  hid  the  mission  from  the  wnnd, 
there  showed,  silhouetted  sharply  against 
the  snow,  the  biggest  and  blackest  of 
black  foxes,  the  animal  that  carried  the 
coveted  fur  upon  his  deceptive  body. 
Ramon's  heart  swelled,  for  he  thought 
of  the  tremendous  proportions  of  this 
month's  tale  of  pelts  when  this  rich  skin 
should  be  added  to  it.  For,  of  course,  it 
would  be  added.  Was  he  not  Ramon, 
king,  the  never-failing? 

Ah,  yes!  But  this  was  Naxelle,  king 
of  black  foxes. 


THE    BLACK   FOX    OF   ST.  VOLTAIRE 


463 


One  was  the  Monarch  Man,  the  other 
the  Monarch  Beast,  and  the  beast  was 
the  equal  of  the  man. 

Ramon's  bullet  spat  the  snow  into  a 
powdery  smoke.  But  Naxelle  had  leaped 
— he  was  not  where  he  had  stood  when 
the  trigger  snapped.  Instead,  he  was 
four  feet  to  the  right,  a  sardonic  grin  on 
his  foxy  features,  if  only  Ramon  could 
have  seen  it  in  the  waning  Hght. 

The  powder  horn  was  tipped  in  a  flash, 
the  bullet  rammed  home,  and  again 
hurtled  on  its  mission  of  death.  Again 
its  resting  place  was  in  the  bank  of  white, 
a  snowy,  upward  cloud  the  sign.  This 
time  Naxelle  was  four  feet  to  the  left. 
He  opened  his  jaws  as  if  in  derision; 
then  his  black  brush  flipped  over  the 
ridge  of  a  snow  gully  and  he  was  gone. 

Ramon  breathed  a  white-shrouded 
oath  into  the  frosty  air.  The  shame  of  it 
— he,  king  of  huntsmen,  beaten! 

It  was  with  a  sense  of  guilt  that 
Ramon  sat  among  his  companions  that 
night  while  the  stories  went  in  turn. 
He  did  not  mention  the  black  fox,  and 
later  as  he  lay  awake  in  his  blankets  he 
pondered  on  how  it  had  happened,  how 
an  untutored  fox  of  the  wild  could  have 
baffled  him. 

There  he  was  wrong,  for  this  was  not 
an  untutored  fox.  Necessity  had  tutored 
him,  and  although  he  was  a  stranger  in 
the  vicinity  of  St.  Voltaire,  his  forest  craft 
was  not  forgotten  with  the  change  of 
residence.  Moreover,  he  was  a  named 
fox,  and  when  a  fox  is  characterised  with 
a  special  name  one  may  look  with  doubt- 
ful eyes  upon  him.  Leagues  away  at 
the  mission  of  St.  Camielle  he  had  been 
named  "Naxelle"  by  the  trappers.  He 
was  the  king.  They  had  at  many  times 
poured  leaden  missiles  after  him;  they 
had  trapped  for  him  in  their  wily  ways; 
they  had  invoked  the  aid  of  the  priests' 
prayers  in  the  enterprise  and  set  poison 
daintily  disguised  in  his  haimts.  All  to 
no  purpose — he  Uved  to  leap  from  their 
rifle-balls,  to  shun  every  trap  and  snare,  to 
scorn  the  poisoned  dainties  and  to  scurry 
from  view,  a  Uving  derision  of  their 
prowess  as  craftsmen  of  the  woods.  They 
suffered  it  till  their  pride  could  suffer  it  no 
longer;  then  they  burnt  and  ravaged  the 
rabbit  pasturesVhere  Naxelle  found  his 


chief  source  of  food,  and,  driven  almost 
to  starvation  through  the  bleak  months, 
he  skirted  the  timber  for  long  leagues 
down  to  St.  Voltaire.  There  he  found 
plenty  to  eat;  there  he  stayed,  and  thus 
it  was  that  he  crept  as  a  nightmare  into 
Ramon's  dreams,  whether  waking  or 
sleeping.  Like  Naxelle's  former  enemies, 
Ramon  hunted  and  trapped  for  him  to 
no  avail.  The  year  ran  out  and  the  sable 
shadow  was  still  conqueror.  The  next 
twelve  months  slipped  by,  and  Ramon 
was  no  nearer  his  aim.  Then  a  wondrous 
thing  happened,  fearful  as  well  as  wonder- 
ful. 

In  November,  the  Freezing  Moon  of 
the  Indians,  Httle  Pierre,  Ramon's  son, 
strayed  from  the  post  early  one  Sabbath 
morning.  At  noon  he  was  missed,  and 
they  scoured  the  woods  for  him.  All 
the  long  afternoon  they  searched  and 
searched  in  fruitless  endeavour,  and  when 
the  dark  set  in  with  the  cruel,  merciless 
frost,  a  sinking  horror  gripped  their  souls, 
for  they  knew  what  they  would  find  when 
their  search  would  end,  if  it  ever  would. 
By  torcWight  they  trod  the  trails  of 
forest  and  slope,  and  well  on  towards 
morning  the  anguish-stricken  father,  in 
company  with  the  good  priest  Leblanc, 
stumbled  on  the  tiny  form  in  a  nook  in 
the  rocks.  The  little  legs  were  frozen 
stiff,  but,  behold!  the  arms  encircled  the 
neck  of  Naxelle,  the  black  fox,  and  his 
tender  face  was  buried  in  the  deep  fur, 
while  the  wonderful  brush,  the  brush 
that  had  flipped  derisively  at  the  father, 
was  round  the  child's  throat,  covering 
the  baby  form  from  the  sting  of  the 
elements.  It  was  the  warmth  of  Nax- 
elle's body  and  peerless  fur  that  had  kept 
the  spark  of  life  glowing.  The  arms  would 
not  unloose  and  with  eyes  of  mute  wonder 
the  fox  felt  himself  lifted  with  the  child 
to  Ramon's  strong  breast  and  borne 
down  the  path  into  the  fire-bright  cabin. 

The  doctor  from  the  next  mission  was 
brought  in  haste,  but  the  legs  had  to 
come  off.  While  little  Pierre  lay  in  bed 
there  were  two  who  never  left  his  side, 
Ramon  at  his  pillow,  and  Naxelle,  all 
the  roving  spirit  quenched,  with  the  light 
of  pity  in  his  wide  eyes,  crouched  among 
the  blankets,  where  the  chubby  arms 
of  his  master  could  find  their  way  round 


464 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


his  neck,  even  as  they  did  that  night  of  the 
frost. 

When  the  boy  cripple  could  hobble 
around  on  his  crutches  no  dog  would  have 
attended  him  more  faithfully  than  did 
Naxelle.  He  was  half  the  sunshine  of  the 
little  future-darkened  life,  a  life  that  was 
soon  to  be  in  peril,  for  ere  the  spring  had 
begun  to  stir  in  the  woodland  glades 
came  the  blood-thirsty  destroyers — the 
Iroquois. 

In  one  short  hour  the  post  was  no  more. 
Only  one  person  escaped.  His  most 
vivid  recollection  is  that  of  a  great,  gloat- 
ing creature  brandishing  a  weapon  above 
him,  and  then  a  leap  at  the  intruder's 
throat  by  the  king  of  black  foxes.  Every- 
thing vanishes  thereafter,  until  the  awak- 


ening at  St.  Camielle.  There  they  told 
Httle  Pierre  that  they  had  found  him 
near  the  ruins,  well  guarded  bya  big  black 
fox.  But  they  would  not  believe  the\ 
little  fellow  when  he  told,  as  best  he 
could,  of  how  the  fox  had  come  to  St. 
Voltaire.  Nevertheless  they  kept  Nax- 
elle, and  built  a  large  den  for  him,  just  as 
if  he  were  a  public  charge.  And  as  time 
went  on  the  people  became  accustomed 
to  the  story  about  the  fox,  and  now  it 
pleases  them  to  tell  it.  None,  however, 
except  the  Uttle  folk,  really  believe  it — 
none  but  me. 

After  all,  perhaps  I  am  a  little  too 
credulous.  But  I  might  be  pardoned 
for  that  weakness,  because — well,  you  see, 
I  was  little  Pierre. 


Ethics  of  the  Farm 


IF  the  hired  men  had  not  been  instructed  to  occasionally  drop  a  wisp  or  two  of 
grain,  Ruth  would  have  found  that  gleaning  afforded  a  somewhat  barren  pros- 
pect. But  Ruth's  footsteps  fell  in  pleasant  places,  and  she  was  the  object  of  a  con- 
scious benevolence.  Nowadays,  however,  benevolence  of  that  kind  is  mostly  uncon- 
scious. Nevertheless,  gleaning  is  carried  on  in  every  walk  in  life,  and  many  there 
are  who  benefit  from  what  others  leave. 

We  find  it  so  on  the  farm.  For  instance,  I  "go  halvers,"  as  we  say,  with  a  neigh- 
bour, and  sow  corn  on  a  field  of  my  land.  The  neighbour  will  provide  the  labour, 
I  the  land  and  the  seed.  WTien  the  com  is  ripe,  the  neighbour  will  cart  every  alter- 
nate load  to  my  silo.  When  he  has  finished  his  task  and  has  gone  home  satisfied,  I 
look  over  the  field,  and,  strange  to  say,  many  ears  of  com  are  still  to  be  seen  there. 
The  neighbour  in  his  eagerness  to  finish  the  work  has  failed  to  observe  that  his  rack 
was  leaking,  or  that  some  of  the  cobs  fell  off  the  cart  or  were  thrown  right  over  it. 
I  tell  my  man  to  take  the  waggon  and  pick  up  the  abandoned  com.  He  gathers,  say, 
ten  bushels.  That  is  present  day  gleaning.  It  is  different  from  Ruth's,  because  it 
is  the  result  of  unconscious  benevolence. 

Farmer  John 


Celebrated  Coalport  China 


By  MORTIMER  PHILLIPS 


The  history  of  a  famous  pottery    which  began  in  England 
many  years  ago 


^  XK  of  the  most  successful 
and  important  of  English 
China  manufactories  is  that 
of  Coalport,  situated  in  a 
picturesque  spot  on  the  banks 
of  the  River  Severn,  in  the  County  of 
Shropshire.  This  celebrated  industry 
dates  from  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  but  the  site  of  the  original  works 
was  at  Caughley,  about  a  mile  distant 
from  the  present  works  and  on  the  op- 
posite or  south  side  of  the  river.  The 
small,  unpretentious  works  on  this  spot 
appear  to  have  been  founded  by  a  Mr. 
Brown, of  Caughley 
Hall,  and  after- 
wards managed  by 
his  brother-in-law, 
a  gentleman  named 
G  a  1 1 i  m  o  r e,  to 
whom,  in  1754,  a 
lease  of  the  place 
was  granted.  Of 
this  Mr.  Galliraore 
very  little  is  known, 
for  the  only  name  as 
proprietor  on  rec- 
ord is  that  of  ]Mr. 
Thomas  Turner, 
son  of  the  Rev. 
Richard  Turner, 
D.D.,  \dcar  of  Nor- 
ton ,  Worcestershire , 
and  chaplain  to  the 
Countess  of  Wig- 
ton.  About  the 
year  1780,  Mr. 
Turner  visited 
France  for  the  pur- 
pose of  picking  up 
knowledge  on  the 
porcelain  manu- 
factures of  Paris 
and  other  places. 
and  while  residing 
5 — 16.5 


A    COALPORT    CHIXA    VASE 


in  the  capital  is  said  to  have  had  a  reg- 
ular laboratory  fitted  up  at  the  top  of  his 
house,  in  order  that  he  might  chemically 
analyse  the  beautiful  foreign  specimens 
of  the  ceramic  art. 

On  returning  home  he  brought  with 
him  some  skilled  workmen  whom  he  had 
tempted  by  high  wages,  and  at  once  en- 
tered into  the  manufacture  of  porcelain 
at  his  own  retired  works.  One  result  of 
this  foreign  trip  was  the  production  of 
the  celebrated  "Willow  Pattern"  and  the 
"Blue  Dragon."  The  first-named  has  un- 
doubtedly been  the  most  popular  and  had 
the  most  extensive 
sale  of  any  pattern 
ever  produced.  It 
has,  of  course,  been 
made  by  many  other 
firms,  but  the  credit 
of  its  first  introduc- 
tion belongs  to 
Caughley,  the  orig- 
inal copper  engrav- 
ing of  the  "Willow 
Pattern"  bearing 
Turner's  name  be- 
ing still  in  exist- 
ence at  the  present 
works. 

About  this  time 
John  Rose,  son  of 
a  neighbouring 
farmer,  was  ap- 
prenticed as  a  lad 
to  Mr.  Turner,  who 
taught  him  the  art 
of  china  making  in 
all  its  branches.  In 
the  year  1788  these 
two  quarrelled, 
young  Rose  left, 
started  a  small  busi- 
ness at  Jackfield,  in 
the    immediate 


466 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


neighbourhood,  and  it  was  not  long  before 
his  successful  operations  affected  the  busi- 
ness of  Caughley  works  to  such  an  extent 
that  the  latter  were  gradually  beaten  out  of 
the  market,  with  the  result  that,  in  1798, 
it  passed  into  the  hands  of  Messrs.  John 
Rose  &  Co.  by  purchase,  ^Ir.  Turner 
entirely  withdrawing  from  the  business. 
In  the  meantime  Mr.  Rose  had  moved  to 
Coalport.  where  he  had  established  him- 


A   FIXE    SPECIMEN'   OF    CO.\LPORT   CHIX.\ 


self  in  some  buildings  which  had  been 
used  as  a  small  pottery  by  a  Mr.  Young, 
of  Shrewsbury,  where  the  works  have 
continued  ever  since;  and  although  fre- 
quent additions  have  been  made  to  them, 
parts  of  these  old  buildings  still  remain, 
and  add  much  to  the  picturesqueness  of 
the  scene. 

On  October  23rd,  1789,  a  terrible  event 
occvurred  in  connection  ^^ath  the  Coalport 
works,  which  was  most  sad  in  its  results. 

At  that  time  a  great  many  people  em- 
ployed at  the  works,  such  as  the  painters 
and  workmen,  lived  at  Broseley,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river,  and  they  were  in 
the  habit  of  daily  passing  backwards  and 
forwards  across  a  ferry,  which  is  still 
used,  in  order  to  go  to  and  fro  from  their 
homes.  On  this  night,  thirty-two  per- 
sons, including  some  of  the  best  artists, 
went  on  board  the  ferry  boat,  which  about 
mid-way,  o-^dng  to  the  intoxicated  state 
of  the  ferr}Tnan,  was  upset,  and  twenty- 
nine  persons  were  dro^\'ned.  The  prin- 
cipal painter  at  this  time  was  an  artist 
named  Walker,  who  perished  \\dth  the 
others  in  this  sad  accident.  An  unfinished 
pair  of  vases  with  his  work  thereon, 
which  he  had  left  only  a  few  minutes  be- 
fore he  lost  his  Hfe,  are  still  preserved  as 
a  memento  of  the  unfortunate  event. 

The  Coalport  China  Works,  as  before 
mentioned,  not  only  represent  the  old 
Caughley  factory,  but  two  other  interest- 
ing ones  as  well,  i.e.,  Swansea  and  Nant- 
garw.  About  the  year  1820,  Mr.  Rose 
purchased  these  works  and  engaged  the 
ser\aces  of  the  former  proprietors,  BiU- 
ingsley  (or  Beeley,  as  he  was  called)  and 
Walker.  These  two  factories  had  only 
existed  for  a  few  years,  and  although  the 
one  at  Nantgarw,  which  was  established 
by  Billingsley,  the  famous  flower  painter, 
and  his  son-in-law.  Walker,  produced  per- 
haps the  finest  of  porcelain  in  body  and 
texture  ever  made,  it  was  not  a  success, 
and  on  discontinuing  the  works  at  Nant- 
garw, removed  to  Coalport  ^^■ith  all  their 
moulds  and  processes,  and  were  employed 
there  until  Billingsley's  death,  which  oc- 
curred in  1828.  Walker  was  also  a  very 
clever  painter,  and  while  he  remained  at 
Coalport  greatly  improved  the  art  of 
china  making. 

About  this  time  ]SIr.  Rose  was  awarded 


celp:brati:d  coalport  china 


407 


a  gold  medal  by  ihc  Society  of 
Arts  for  a  leadless  glaze,  all 
the  principal  manufacturers  in 
the  kingdom  having  competed 
for  it,  but  the  prize  was  awarded 
to  Mr.  Rose,  whose  compound 
was  mainly  composed  of  fels])ar, 
which  is  commemorated  by  a 
distinctive  mark  about  two  inches 
in  diameter,  and  round  in  shay)e, 
bearing  the  following  inscri])tion  : 
'' Coalport,  Improved  Felspar 
Porcelain,"  in  a  laurel  wreath 
in  the  centre,  while  round  the 
edges  are  the  words,  "Patronised 
by  the  Society  of  Arts."  The 
gold  medal  was  awarded  May 
30,  1820.  Lord  Boyne  has  a 
very  beautiful  service  painted 
with  roses  by  Billingsley  and 
bearing  this  mark  at  his  place 
in  Shropshire. 

It  is  unfortunate  that  for  many 
years  so  very  many  pieces  of  Coalport 
■china  were  produced  and  sold  without  any 
mark  whatever,  but  the  present  proprietors 
have  adopted  a  much  wiser  plan,  and 
every  piece  sent  out  from  their  works 
bears  the  following  mark — a  royal  crown 
with  the  words  "England"  above,  and 
"Coalport"  beneath  it,  and  below  "A.D. 
1750,"  and  "Leadless  Glaze"  again  un- 
derneath the  date. 

Perhaps  some  people  wonder  why  the 
date  1750  is  given,  as  the  Coalport  factory 
was  not  founded  till  later,  but  it  is  really 


A   PIECE   OF   COALPORT  CHINA 


A    COALPORT    CHINA    PLATE 

the  date  of  the  establishment  at  Caughley, 
which  the  Coalport  firm  has  a  right  to 
use  as  representative  of  the  former  works. 
The  Coalport  China  Works  have  been 
well  represented  at  different  exhibitions 
which  have  been  held  from  time  to  time 
all  over  the  world.  Both  at  the  Great 
Exhibition  of  1851,  and  also  that  of  1862, 
as  well  as  the  one  in  Paris  in  1855,  Messrs. 
Rose  &  Co.  gained  medals  for  their 
productions,  and  these  successes  have 
been  continued  at  the  more  recent  in- 
ternational exhibitions. 

In  1845,  Messrs.  Daniell, 
of  London,  received  the 
Queen's  commands  to  pre- 
pare a  dessert  service,  in- 
tended as  a  present  for  the 
Czar  Nicholas.  This  mag- 
nificent ser\'ice  was  made  at 
Coalport,  the  colour  being 
"bleu  de  roi,"  and  every  ar- 
ticle had  the  various  orders 
of  the  Russian  Empire  en- 
amelled in  compartments 
around  the  border,  with  the 
order  of  St.  Nicholas  and 
the  Russian  and  Polish  eagles 
in  the  centre.  The  service 
was  the  object  of  much  ad- 
miration at  home  and  in 
Russia. 
,,    At  the  Exhibition  of  1851 


468 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


THE    CHINA    WORKS    AT   COALPORT 


there  was  shown  a  most  beautiful  dessert 
service  of  the  Rose  du  Barry  colour,  which 
has  always  been  a  specialty  of  this  factory, 
and  was  subsequently  purchased  by  Lord 
Ashburton.  It  was  deemed  by  com- 
petent judges  to  equal  the  original  Sevres 
in  beauty  of  tint,  and  to  surpass  it  in 
evenness  of  colour. 

Mr.  John  Rose  died  in  1841,  and  was 
succeeded  by  his  nephew,  ^Ir.  William 
Rose,  who  retired  from  the  firm  in  1862, 
when  Air.  Pugh  became  sole  proprietor, 
and  continued  so  till  his  death  in  1875. 

In  1889  the  Coalport  Works  were  in- 
corporated and  made  into  a  private  com- 
pany by  the  present  proprietors,  under 
the  style  of  the  "Coalport  China  Com- 
pany (John  Rose  &  Company),  Limited," 
thus  perpetuating  the  name  of  the  original 
founder,  Mr.  Charles  C.  Bruflt  and  his 
brother-in-law,  Mr.  A.  X.  Bruff  Garrett, 
acting  as  joint  managing  directors,  first- 
named  being  also  the  chairman  of  the 
company;  and  it  is  an  interesting  fact, 
and  one  well  worthy  of  record,  when  the 
works  were  taken  over  at  that  time,  that 
among  the  work-people  there  were  eighteen 
whose  ages  averaged  sixty  years  apiece, 
while  their  length  of  service  was  forty- 
seven  years  each,  sixteen  others  averaged 
sixty-four  years  in  age  with  fifty-two 
years  of  service,  a  wonderful  record, 
showing  a  very  remarkable  length  of 
service  and  average  employment,  and  one 
that  speaks  volumes  in  these  change-lov- 
ing days  for  the  conditions  and  relations 
under   which   these   works   have   alwavs 


been  carried  on. 
Upwards  of  450 
work-people  are 
now  employed  here. 
July  24, 1900,  was 
a  red-letter  day  in 
the  history  of  Coal- 
port  factory,  as  the 
Duchess  of  York, 
now  the  Princess 
of  Wales,  who  was 
staying  at  Patshull, 
Lord  Dartmouth's 
place,  near  Wolver- 
hampton,  drove 
over  with  a  large 
party  on  that  day, 
and  was  conducted 
over  the  works,  in  which  Her  Royal  High- 
ness was  greatly  interested.  Before  her 
departure,  the  Duchess  partook  of  tea,  and 
was  presented  by  Mr.  Bruff,  on  behalf  of 
the  company,  with  a  very  beautiful  dejeuner 
service  of  pale  yellowj.  china  studded  with 
turquoises  on  a  tray  to  match,  with 
which,  as  well  as  with  her  visit  to  Coal- 
port,  H.R.H.  expressed  herself  muchj^de- 
lighted.  This  particular  decoration .  of 
china,  with  ornamentation  of  imitation 
gems  and  cameos,  has  been  made  a  spe- 
cialty at  Coalport,  and  is  most  effective. 

A  brief  account  of  the  various  processes 
may  perhaps  here  prove  interesting:  The 
ingredients  formed  in  the  body  consist  of 
china-clay,  stone,  flint,  bones  and  other 
substances,  all  of  which  are  ground  and 
prepared,  afterwards  being  weighed  out 
in  their  various  proportions,  and  finally 
mixed  together  into  a  liquid  state,  known 
as  "China  SHp."  This  slip,  after  being 
passed  through  magnets  to  eliminate  any 
metallic  substances,  is  now  ready  for 
casting  or  pouring  into  Paris-plaster 
moulds,  used  in  the  process  of  making 
hollow-ware,  but  in  the  case  of  other 
articles  and  flat-ware  generally,  the  same 
material  has  to  be  passed  through  a 
filter-press,  which  squeezes  out  all  the 
water  and  it  is  then  ready  for  the  pressers 
and  throwers,  the  last  named,  perhaps, 
being  the  most  skilful  branch  of  the 
potter's  craft. 

Every  piece  of  ware  has  to  be  allowed 
a  certain  amount  of  time  for  drying  be- 
fore firing,  for  which  latter  purpose,  seg- 


THOUGHTS 


4<;!) 


gars,  made  of  fire  clay  and  varying  in  size 
and  shape  according  to  the  nature  of  the 
articles  that  are  to  be  fired,  are  used. 
The  greatest  care  and  skill,  however,  is 
required  in  placing  the  articles  in  these 
seggars,  all  of  which  are  bedded  in  ground 
flint  to  support  them.  The  seggars  are 
then  placed  in  the  kibi,  one  on  the  top  of 
the  other,  which  is  afterwards  closed  up 
and  fired  about  48  hours.  The  ware  is 
then  in  what  is  termed  the  "biscuit" 
state,  and  after  being  carefully  scoured 
or  cleaned  from  the  flint,  is  taken  to  the 
glazing-room,  where  it  is  dipped  into  a 
preparation  of  glaze  about  the  same  con- 
sistency of  ordinary  cream,  after  which 
it  is  examined  again,  placed  in  glazed 
seggars,  carefulh-  sealed  at  the  joints  to 
exclude  any  outer  contact,  and  fired  again, 
which  occupies  about  twenty-four  hours. 
The  work  of  printing  is  the  next  operation, 


which  is  carried  out  by  the  aid  of  trans- 
fers, or  thin  sheets  of  tissue  paper,  which 
are  struck  off  copper  plates  and  designs, 
and  lightly  pressed  on  the  ware.  After 
the  printing  comes  the  decorating  pro- 
cesses, but  in  the  case  of  elaborately  dec- 
orated articles,  the  design  is  sketched  by 
hand,  and  can  only  be  carried  out  by  the 
most  skilled  workmen.  The  last  firing 
then  takes  place,  this  time  in  a  kind  of 
large  muffle,  known  as  "enamel"  kiln, 
and  when  the  articles  are  withdrawn 
from  these  kilns,  they  are  sent  to  the 
burnishing-rooms  for  final  treatment,  and 
afterwards  passed  on  to  the  finishing 
warehouse. 

The  productions  of  the  Coalport  China 
Works  take  rank  with  the  very  best  in 
the  Kingdom,  and  the  Directors  are  de- 
termined to  maintain  the  present  stand- 
ard of  excellence. 


Thoughts 


BY   MABEL    BURKHOLDER 


/CONCERNING  one  who  in  my  heart  held  court, 

Lawless  usurper  of  an  alien  throne; 
I  said,  "Turn  out  Sir  Vagrant,  and  the  flock 

Of  fawning  thoughts,  which  he  has  made  his  own." 
My  heart,  obedient,  heeded  my  behest, 

Drew  back  the  bolt,  and  bade  the  traitors  flee; 
When  came  a  thousand  more  on  whirring  wings. 

Who,  spying  entrance  clear,  flocked  in  with  glee. 
Up-perched,  with  white  wings  closed  in  calm  content, 
And  chirped  and  cooed  of  him  with  one  consent. 

Concerning  one,  than  whom  there  was  on  earth 

None  wiser,  kinglier,  though  all  lands  be  sought, 
I  said,  "Thou'lt  ever  cherish  him  my  heart. 

And  altar  build,  and  feed  it  with  thy  thought." 
My  heart,  obedient,  heeded  my  behest. 

And  built  a  shrine  elaborately  done; 
Piled  on  the  wood,  though  each  log  heavy,  wet. 

But  killed  the  heat  till  the  last  spark  was  gone. 
And  all  that  answers  now  my  loud  lament 
Ts  a  black  heap  of  embers,  clean  forespent. 


Malta  and  the  Maltese 


Bv  H.  S.  SCOTT  HARDEN 


An  intimate  sketch  of  a    pictttresque   community  at  the  half- 
way house  between  Gibraltar  and  Cairo 


F  you  look  down  from  the 
heights  of  Notabile  your 
eyes  rest  for  a  moment  on 
the  flat-roofed  houses  of 
Valetta,  and  then  across  the 
deep  bhie  harbour  to  Floriana  and  to  the 
"Three  Cities"  beyond.  .\11  round  you 
are  "relics  of  nobler  days  and  noblest 
arts,"  despoiled  yet  perfect,  reUcs  of  dark 
ages  when  the  island  was  taken  by  the 
Moors  and  occupied  in  turn  by  Romans, 
Greeks  and  Carthaginians. 

Nestling  close  to  the  walls  built  by  the 
Knights  of  St.  John,  as  a  stronghold  of 


.STREET   SCENE,    M.\LT.\ 


Christianity  against  the  Turks,  the 
strength  of  England  lies;  for  here  in  the 
deepest  waters  of  the  harbour  the  British 
fleet  Hes  safe  at  anchor.  Far  away  across 
the  Mediterranean  on  a  clear  winter's 
day  Etna  is  just  visible  through  the 
haze  which  covers  the  SiciUan  coast. 
The  streets  of  Malta  are  steep  and  narrow, 
and  the  visitor  climbs  slowly  up  the  steps, 
pausing  here  and  there  to  look  at  a 
Madonna  and  child  or  a  figure  of  Christ 
adorned  with  flowers  under  a  lamp. 

The  Maltese  are  priest-ridden  to  a 
degree,  and  the  Roman  CathoHc  reUgiun 
is  firmly  planted  in  the  hearts  of  all 
and  embedded  in  the  walls  of  the 
town.  The  picturesque  shops  are  full 
of  exquisite  lace  and  filigree  work, 
marked  with  the  emblem  of  the  island, 
the  Maltese  Cross,  and  more  than  five 
thousand  women  are  employed  in 
making  the  beautiful  shawls  and  scarfs 
which  find  their  way  to  all  parts  of 
the  world. 

In  winter  the  island  is  quite  a 
health  resort  for  many  English  trav- 
ellers and  Italians,  who  pass  the  season 
in  that  delightful  chmate,  and  enjoy 
the  hospitality  of  the  officers,  naval 
and  military,  on  the  ships  and  at  the 
clubs  in  the  Strada  Reale  or  at 
Sliema,  or  by  wandering  through  the 
country  lanes  bordered  by  the  quaint 
stone  walls  which  surround  the  orange 
groves  clothed  ^\•ith  fruit;  and  perhaps 
make  excursions  on  ponies  across  the 
fields  to  the  shores  of  St.  Paul's  Bay, 
where  St.  Paul  was  shipwrecked  in 
the  year  of  our  Lord  58. 

In  November  and  December  the 
hotels  are  full  and  every  little  apart- 
ment is  occupied,  chiefly  by  ladies  who 
are  knovra  by  the  garrison  as  "The 
Fishing   Fleet,"  and  who   come  with 


470 


I 


MALTA    AM)     IMIK    MAT/I'ESH 


471 


their  pretty  faces  and  frocks  as  bail 
for  the  officers.  Of  all  the  attrac- 
tions in  Malta  there  is  none  so  popu- 
lar as  the  opera,  and  from  the  deco- 
rated boxes  and  stalls,  as  the  curtain 
descends,  comes  the  sound  of  mirth  and 
pleasure  from  the  uniformed  officers 
and  their  friends  after  La  Boheme  or 
Carmen  has  been  exquisitely  rendered 
by  some  of  the  best  Italian  singers  of  the 
day.  Then  there  are  the  picturesque 
churches  and  the  Chapel  of  Bones,  where 
the  skulls  of  the  Knights  of  ISIalta  lie  in 
rows  in  a  beautiful  vault  underground, 
together  with  the  haunted  underground 
city  itself,  tenantless  beneath  the  battle- 
ments, where  no  person  is  allowed  to  tread. 

The  people  in  the  streets  too  are  inter- 
esting— especially  the  dark-eyed  ladies  in 
their  quaint  black  gowns  and  large  hoods, 
worn  for  over  a  hundred  years  as  a  sign 
of  grief  and  mourning,  since  the  time 
Napoleon's  army  broke  through  the 
fortifications  and  ravaged  the  town.  It 
is  said  that  the  hood  was  to  be  worn  for 
a  century  because  of  the  mortification  that 
the  women  suiJered,  but  ten  years  have 
passed  since  then,  yet  the  custom  still 
prevails.  The  carriages  are  old  ram- 
shackle vehicles  called  "carottzis"  and 
driven  by  Maltese  who  speak  a  patois 
and  tell  you  they  are  "more  better  as 
you. "  They  drive  furiously  by  day  and 
night  over  the  cobbled  roads  of  the  town, 
and  when  evening  comes  every  "cabby'" 
takes  a  youth  with  him  on  the  box  to 
prevent  the  devil  attacking  him.  A 
small  boy  appears  as  if  by  magic  when 
you  hire  a  carriage  after  dark. 

There  is  a  race  course  and  a  capital 
polo  ground  a  mile  or  two  out  of  the 
town,  called  the  ^larsa.  Here  the  troops 
are  drilled,  and  I  remember  some  years 
ago  seeing  a  parade  of  men  from  one  of 
the  United  States  transports  when  the 
ship  called  en  route  to  the  Philippines.  In 
connection  with  this  an  officer  told  me 
rather  an  amusing  story.  When  the 
transport  came  into  the  harbour  the 
troops  were  landed  for  exercise  and  three 
men  of  a  certain  Irish  regiment  quartered 
in  the  island  changed  uniforms  with 
American  soldiers  and  sailed  away  on 
the  transport  for  the  east.  In  the 
morning  the^ Sergeant-Major  at  Floriana 


A   MALTESE    LADY,   WITH    K.M^KH    VEIL 

barracks,  much  to  his  astonishment, 
found  three  clean-shaved  Americans  on 
parade.  After  an  explanation  and  much 
correspondence  by  cable  the  men  were 
returned  to  their  respective  corps,  having 
done  service  under  a  foreign  flag. 

Apart  from  the  British  garrison,  which 
consists  of  a  brigade  of  infantry  and  a 
small  army  of  gunners,  there  is  a  local 
militia — ^a  well-organised  and  highly  effi- 
cient corps — under  their  own  ^Nlaltese 
officers,  several  of  whom  served  in  the 
South  African  war. 

Everyone  who  visits  IMalta  pays  a  visit 
to  the  Main  Guard,  and  it  is  one  of  the 
most  interesting  sights  in  the  morning  to 
watch   the  sruard  being  changed  or  the 


472 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


IXTERIOR    VIEW,   GUARD-ROOM,    MALTA 

trooping  of  colour.  The  guard-room  is 
exactly  opposite  Government  House,  in 
the  centre  of  the  town.  The  rooms  used 
by  the  ofl&cers  are  covered  with  drawings 
made  by  some  who  were  on  dut}-.  The 
pictures  represent  badges  of  the  regiments 
and  sketches  of  military  life  drawn  by  no 
mean  artists.  One  picture  is  particularly 
realistic  and  shows  the  skeleton  of  an 
officer  lying  in  a  tomb.  The  room  is  an 
inner  chamber,  and  as  it  is  supposed  to  be 


THE    CHAPEU   OF    BOXES 


haunted  it  is  never  used. 
The  officers  on  guard  are 
allowed  to  entertain  their 
friends,  and  one  often  sees 
a  group  of  ladies  watching 
the  passers-by  from  the  bal- 
cony wliich  overlooks  the 
square. 

On  one  occasion  when  the 
officers  were  having  their 
dinner,  a  Maltese  militiaman 
had  been  confined  for  not 
obeying  an  order.  When 
inspecting  the  prisoners  on 
his  return  the  commander  of 
the  guard  found  the  soldier's 
entire  family  quartered  on  the 
verandah,  and  they  abso- 
lutely refused  to  move  until 
the  "dear  soldier  boy"  had 
been  released.  The  inhabi- 
tants of  Malta  are  awakened 
by  the  sound  of  bells— for 
every  church  has  a  peal  and 
the}-  vie  with  one  another  in  noise  and 
quaint  tones. 

As  there  is  no  grazing  for  cattle,  the 
people  hve  on  goat's  milk,  and  in  your 
rambhngs    through    the    city    you    are 
delayed  by  herds  of  goats  driven  along 
the  sidewalks,  stopping   here   and   there 
to  feed  on  orange  peel  and  rubbish  from 
the    gutters.     The    goats     stop    at    the 
house  doors  to  be  milked.     They  know 
their  customers.     It  is  not  surprising  that 
the  doctors  have  discovered 
that  the  dreaded  INIalta  fever 
so  prevalent  in  the  summer 
months  is  to  a  great  extent 
due  to  the  milk. 

In  spite  of  this,  and  the 
offensive  odours,  Malta  is  an 
ideal  place  to  winter  in.  It 
is  only  four  days  from  Lon- 
don via  Rome  or  Sicily,  and 
it  is  the  half-way  house  be- 
tween Gibraltar  and  Cairo. 
With  a  daily  service  of 
steamers  to  S\Tacuse  and 
Catania,  convenient  trips  can 
also  be  made  to  Algiers  and 
Tunis,  and  to  nearly  all  the 
ports  on  the  coast  of  the 
blue  Mediterranean. 


The  Pride  of  the  Penningtons 

Bv  N.  DE  BERT  RAND  LUGRIN 


A  f^nal  test  oj  the  old   proverb  ^^ Pride  Goelh  Be/ore  u  Fall"  is 
prevented  by   the  naivete  of  a  prospective  bridesmaid 


URIEL  was  standing  in  the 
music-room  by  the  window, 
poking  her  chubby  forefin- 
ger into  the  tiny  hollows 
made  by  the  satin  buttons 
in  the  cushion  of  a  low  arm-chair,  and 
thinking  very  deeply.  There  was  a  bit 
of  a  pucker  between  her  straight,  dark 
little  brows.  It  was  all  so  strange,  so 
very  strange.  For  six  months  she  had 
been  looking  forward  to  a  wedding.  Sis- 
ter Dorothy  was  going  to  marry  cousin 
Ned.  They  were  to  go  to  the  church 
first,  and  then  come  to  the  house, 
where  they  were  to  have  a  grand  recep- 
tion, and  all  the  ices  Muriel  could  eat, 
for  the  little  girl  was  to  be  one  of  the 
bridesmaids.  Afterward,  Ned  and  Doro- 
thy were  going  away,  and  when  they  re- 
turned they  were  to  live  just  around  the 
street  from  Dorothy's  father's  house  in 
the  summer,  and  in  the  winter  they 
would  be  at  "The  Towers,"  Ned's  place, 
which  was  next  to  "WhancHffe,"  Mur- 
iel's home.  It  was  to  have  been  such 
a  happy  time  for  Dorothy,  Ned,  Muriel 
and  all. 

"Just  presacly  the  same  as  two  own 
homes,"  Muriel  had  said.  But  sud- 
denly, just  as  suddenly  as  the  lights  are 
turned  down  at  the  Pantomime,  every- 
thing was  changed. 

There  had  been  a  ball  two  nights  be- 
fore, Muriel  knew,  because  Dorothy  had 
come  in  all  shining-eyed  and  dressed 
in  spangly  w'hite  to  kiss  her  good-night. 

"When  you  come  back  will  you  kiss 
me  again?"  Muriel  had  asked. 

But  Dorothy  had  said:  "No,  dear 
little  one.  It  will  be  morning  then,  and 
I  should  wake  you.  I  shall  come  up 
when  you  have  finished  your  lessons  to- 
morrow." 

But  the  morning  came  and  breakfast 
was  over;  the  morning  wore  away  and 

6 — i73 


the  lessons  were  done.  Soon  it  was  past 
luncheon,  and  still  Dorothy  did  not  come. 

"Miss  Chapman,"  asked  Muriel  of 
her  governess,  "may  I  go  up  to  the 
drawing-room?  Mother  is  there,  you 
know,  and  perhaps  Dorothy  is  ill  or  has 
forgotten." 

So  Muriel  ran  up  and  peeped  in  and 
saw  her  mother  sitting  in  one  of  the 
w'indows,  a  book  opened  on  her  knees, 
but  her  eyes  very  gravely  fixed  on  the 
w^all  opposite. 

"Well,  my  litde  giri,"  the  latter  said, 
seeing  Muriel,  "I  was  just  going  to  send 
for  you.  Dorothy  and  I  have  been  very 
busy  to-day." 

"Pretty  nearly  you  are  always  busy 
now,  mother,"  the  child  said,  laughing 
in  an  understanding  sort  of  way,  and  hug- 
ging her  mother  tightly  round  the  waist. 
"Only  four  more  days  now,  and  ray 
frock  is  all  ready,  and  my  hat  in  its  box 
on  the  shelf." 

Mrs.  Pennington  pushed  the  long, 
dark  curls  from  her  daughter's  face  and 
looked  at  her  gravely;  then  she  smiled 
a  httle. 

"Will  you  remain  here  very  quietly 
for  twenty  minutes  ? "  she  said  to  Mur- 
iel. "I  am  going  to  Dorothy  now.  Pres- 
ently I  shall  send  Katie  to  fetch  you  to 
my  room,  and  you  may  have  tea  with 
sister  and  me." 

"Thank  you,  mother;  that  will  be 
nice."  Muriel  climbed  up  on  the  seat 
her  mother  had  vacated  and  peered  over 
the  tops  of  the  red  carnations  to  the 
street  below. 

She  had  been  looking  for  a  few  min- 
utes when  she  saw  cousin  Ned's  tall 
dogcart  dash  around  the  comer,  and 
Ned  himself,  all  in  his  vmiform,  pull  the 
horses  up  sharply  at  the  door.  Ned 
threw  the  lines  to  his  man  and  came 
quickly  in.     ]Muriel  heard  the  front  door 


474 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


open  and  close,  and  then  Ned's  light  step 
and  the  clink  of  his  spurs  as  he  came  up 
the  stairs.  He  must  have  gone  into  the 
music-room,  for  he  did  not  pass  the 
drawing-room  doors  at  all. 

The  twenty  minutes  must  have  gone 
by  twice,  and  no  Katie  had  come  to 
fetch  her,  when  she  heard  Ned's  step 
again  in  the  hall,  and  he  came  very 
quickly  into  the  room  where  she  was, 
calling  her  name  sharply.  The  little 
girl  slipped  to  her  feet  and  turned  to- 
wards him,  then  started.  Her  cousin's 
usually  merry  face  was  very  white  and 
stem,  and  his  hands  shook  as  he  held 
out  his  arms  to  her.  She  ran  to  him, 
hugging  him  tightly.  He  must  be  ill, 
very  ill  to  have  changed  so,  and  all  in 
a  day. 

"Will  you  kiss  me,  dear  Uttle  Muriel?" 
he  asked  her.     "I  am  going  away." 

"Going  away!"  she  echoed,  leaning 
back,  her  big  dark  eyes  full  of  wonder, 
"Going  away  before  the  wedding?" 

"There  is  to  be  no  wedding,"  he  told 
her,  and  his  voice  was  husky,  but  his 
lips  were  firm.  "Dorothy  will  tell  you 
about  it.  I  am  going  to  sail  for  India 
to-morrow  night." 

He  tried  to  smile  a  little. 

"You'll  kiss  me  good-bye,  won't  you, 
Muriel?" 

"I'll  give  you  a  milHon  kisses,  my 
dear,"  said  the  child,  but  her  mouth 
trembled.  "Only  I  can't  understand, 
and  I  can't  bear  it,  Neddie." 

Then  the  boyishly  stem  face  grew 
weak  all  of  a  sudden,  and  he  hid  it  in 
Muriel's  curls.  The  little  girl  tried  very 
hard  not  to  cry,  but  the  sob  in  her  throat 
was  so  big  that  she  couldn't  swallow  it, 
so  she  hugged  her  cousin  ver\'  tightly, 
and  hid  her  face  against  his  arm,  not 
feeling  the  hard  gold  braid  scratching 
her  cheek. 

Presently  Ned  held  her  ofif  from  him, 
and  looked  into  the  sad  eyes. 

"Muriel,"  he  said,  "when  you  grow 
up,  sweet  and  tall  and  fair  like  Dorothy, 
be  gracious,  dear  little  girl,  and  kind 
and  forgiving,  and  beautiful  as  you  hke, 
but  give  no  room  in  your  heart  to  pride. 
Pride  is  a  cruel  thing,  more  cruel  than 
death." 

Then  he  kissed  her  very  gravely,  and 


said  "God  bless  you"  twice.  After  that 
he  let  her  go  and,  rising,  walked  swiftly 
from  the  room,  one  hand  on  the  hilt  of 
his  sword,  the  other  close  to  his  side,  his 
head  very  high  in  the  air. 

Muriel  gazed  after  him  a  long  time. 
The  tears  dried  on  her  cheeks.  Her 
little  hands  hung  limp  and  empty  at  her 
sides.  The  shadows  began  to  gather 
in  the  drawing-room,  still  the  child  did 
not  move.  By-and-bye  Katie  came  and 
led  her  to  the  door  of  her  mother's  bou- 
doir. Inside  the  fire  burned  in  the 
blue -tiled  fireplace  and  her  sister  stood 
before  it,  tall  and  slender  and  white-faced 
as  Ned  had  been.  She  was  looking  at 
the  door,  as  Muriel  entered,  and  smiled 
shghtly  at  the  Httle  girl. 

"I  have  neglected  you,  dearest,  have 
I  not?"  she  asked,  bending  down  and 
putting  her  arms  about  the  child,  for  all 
the  world  as  Ned  had  done.  "But  I 
have  been  ill  and  tired  all  day.  You 
will  forgive  me,  vnll  you  not?" 

Muriel  looked  into  the  blue  eyes  above 
her  steadily. 

"Why  is  Neddie  gone?"  she  asked. 

Her  sister  loosened  her  arms  and 
stood  up  straight. 

"Cousin  Ned  has  gone  because  we 
all  thought  it  best,"  she  said  quietly, 
"He  has  been  given  a  year's  leave  of 
absence." 

"But  the  wedding?"  breathlessly. 

"Ned  and  I  are  not  going  to  be  mar- 
ried," gently.  "You  are  too  little  to 
understand,  dear;  when  you  get  older 
sister  will  try  and  explain  to  you — peo- 
ple change  their  minds,  Muriel,  some- 
times when  they  think  they  cannot  be 
happy  together.  It  would  be  very  wrong 
and  sad  to  get  married  and  then  be  mis- 
erable all  our  lives,  wouldn't  it,  dear?" 

"How  could  you  be  miserable  with 
Neddie?"  gravely. 

"I  would  be  miserable  if  I  could  not 
make  him  happy,  and  I  can't  do  that, 
Muriel;  so  I  am  not  going  to  marry  him." 

The  Httle  girl  was  silent  for  a  mo- 
ment, then  she  said:  "Neddie  isn't 
happy  yet,  Dorothy.  He  cried  when  he 
kissed  me  good-bye.  People  don't  cry 
when  they  are  glad  about  things.  He 
hugged  me  very  tight,  and  his  tears 
wetted  all  my  pinafore," 


THE   PRIDE    OF   THE    PENNINGTONS 


475 


The  older  girl  turned  away  abruptly, 
and  going  to  the  piano  sat  down  upon 
the  stool.  She  struck  a  few  chords 
softly,  and  then  very  suddenly  there  was 
a  loud  crash,  and  Muriel  saw  her  sis- 
ter's yellow  head  bowed  upon  the  keys, 
and  her  figure  was  trembling  very  much 
from  sobbing.  The  little  girl  ran  to  her 
quickly,  climbing  into  her  lap  and  put- 
ting her  arms  around  her  tenderly. 

"My  dearie,  my  dearie,"  she  said, 
"has  Neddie  been  naughty  to  you?" 

"No,  no,"  and  the  older  girl  pressed 
her  cheek  tight  against  Muriel's.  "He 
was  never  naughty,  never,  darling.  He 
was  always  good  and  true  and  brave. 
Only  he  was  proud,  so  proud.  Muriel, 
when  you  grow  up  you  must  never  be 
cold  and  proud.  It  makes  everybody 
so  unhappy." 

"No,  I  shan't,"  said  Muriel  with  wide, 
troubled  eyes,  thinking  of  what  Ned 
had  told  her. 

After  a  little  Dorothy  set  her  upon  her 
feet  and  going  to  the  table  poured  out 
a  tiny  cup  of  milk  and  hot  water  and 
placed  it  on  a  plate  with  a  very  large 
piece  of  sponge  cake.  This  was  a  great 
treat  to  Muriel  as  a  rule,  but  to-day  she 
took  it  rather  Hstlessly,  and,  a  tight  lit- 
tle feeling  coming  into  her  throat  when 
she  started  to  eat  the  cake,  she  put  the 
piece  on  the  table  quietly  and  said,  if 
Dorothy  didn't  mind,  she  believed  she 
wouldn't  have  tea  this  afternoon.  Doro- 
thy knelt  beside  her. 

"Muriel,  dearest,"  she  said,  "you 
must  not  trouble  about  this.  I  want 
you  to  promise  me  you  won't.  Ned  will 
come  back  by-and-bye.  A  year  isn't 
very  long.  Will  you  try  and  not  think 
about  it,  dear?"  But  Muriel,  being 
a  very  honest  little  girl,  could  not 
promise. 

That  same  night  there  was  a  dinner 
party  at  the  house  and  Muriel  peeped 
over  the  banisters  while  the  guests  went 
into  the  dining-room.  She  was  in  her 
dressing-gown,  but,  of  course,  no  one 
could  see  her.  Dorothy,  tall  and  white- 
faced  and  smiling,  was  walking  with  her 
hand  on  the  Colonel's  arm,  Ned's  Col- 
onel. Muriel  knew  him.  He  came  very 
often  to  see  them  with  Neddie.     Indeed 


he  was  very  much  like  Ned,  full  of  fun 
and  good  spirits,  though  his  hair  was 
quite  gray  Uke  father's. 

Muriel  had  a  very  funny  thing  happen 
to  her  that  night.  She  was  thinking  of 
Ned,  of  his  going  away  and  the  terrible 
tigers  and  snakes  down  in  India  that 
Miss  Chapman  had  told  her  about,  and 
she  couldn't  sleep  at  all.  She  would 
close  her  eyes  and  they  would  pop  open 
again  just  Hke  the  cover  of  the  jack-in- 
the-box.  She  heard  the  nursery  clock 
strike  ten,  eleven,  twelve,  and  then,  be- 
ing very  wideawake  indeed,  and  a  little 
troubled,  she  got  out  of  bed  and  went 
to  find  nurse.  But  as  nurse  was  sound 
asleep,  she  didn't  Uke  to  wake  her,  so 
she  made  up  her  mind  that  she  would 
go  to  her  mother's  room  and  tell  her 
about  the  funny  way  her  eyes  kept  pop- 
ping open. 

The  door  of  the  boudoir  was  ajar, 
and  Muriel,  hearing  voices,  stopped  be- 
fore going  in.  She  saw  the  interior, 
however.  Dorothy  was  sitting  in  a 
stiff-backed  satin  chair,  her  hands  grasp- 
ing the  arms  tightly,  her  face  very  white 
and  her  eyes  dark  as  the  shadows  in 
Muriel's  room.  Her  mother  was  stand- 
ing with  her  back  to  the  door,  and  Mur- 
iel heard  her  say: 

"I  have  let  you  judge  for  yourself, 
Dorothy.  I  only  hope  that  you  have 
not  made  a  mistake  that  will  spoil  both 
your  lives." 

Then  Dorothy  spoke  in  a  hard  voice, 
strange  to  Muriel. 

"There  was  nothing  else  to  do,  mother. 
I  could  not  excuse  myself  to  him.  His 
pride  is  too  overbearing." 

"My  child,"  Mrs.  Pennington  said 
quietly,  "you  both  suffer  from  it,  the 
terrible  pride  of  the  Penningtons.  I 
am  afraid  poor  Ned's  heart  is  broken, 
and  you — " 

"And  I — "  Dorothy  laughed  mirth- 
lessly, and  her  hands  clinched  the  chair 
arms  more  tightly.  "No  one  shall  ever 
know  of  my  sufferings,  mother.  What 
is  it  the  song  says,  'I  shall  hide  a  broken 
heart  behind  a  smiling  face  ?' " 

A  httle  stunned  by  what  she  had  heard, 
Muriel  leaned  against  the  curtained 
doorway,    one    hand    holding    tightly    a 


476 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


fold  of  her  nightgown,  the  other  pressed 
against  her  cheek. 

Presently  there  was  a  little  rustUng 
sotind,  and,  looking  within,  she  saw- 
Dorothy  alone  and  standing  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  room,  her  hands  clasped  tightly 
together,  and  held  out  rigidly  before  her, 
while  her  lips  moved  and  she  half  sobbed 
aloud: 

"Oh,  Ned,  Ned,  I  never  can  bear  it! 
Come  back  again!" 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  it  dawned  upon 
Muriel  that  she  was  listening  to  what 
was  not  intended  for  her  to  hear,  and 
her  little  face  grew  hot  all  of  a  sudden, 
and  she  crept  away  to  bed. 

The  next  morning  was  Saturday,  so 
there  were  no  lessons.  As  soon  as 
breakfast  was  over,  Muriel  went  to  her 
father's  study.  He  w-as  writing  at  his 
desk.  Muriel  attracted  his  attention 
by  gently  poking  him  in  the  back.  He 
saw  her  and  bent  his  head  to  kiss  her. 

"Father  is  very  busy  just  now,"  he 
told  her.  "I  shall  come  and  talk  with 
you  soon." 

Muriel  leaned  her  cheek  against  his 
desk  and  looked  at  him  wistfully. 

"Father,"  she  asked,  "what  is  the 
'pride'  of  the  Penningtons?" 

The  man  smiled  slightly;  then,  know- 
ing his  little  girl  to  be  very  serious  in 
regard  to  all  information,  he  took  her 
on  his  knee  and  told  her  that  pride  was 
sometimes  a  very  good  thing  and  some- 
times a  very  bad  thing.  It  was  good 
when  it  made  people  true  and  kind  and 
brave  and  happy,  and  it  was  bad  when 
it  made  men  and  w-omen  unloving  and 
cold  and  careless  of  the  suffering  of 
others.  Then  he  kissed  Muriel  again, 
put  her  dowTi  and  told  her  to  rim  away. 
She  had  almost  reached  the  door  when 
she  remembered  another  question,  so 
she  returned  and  asked  again: 

"Father,  do  people  die  of  broken 
hearts?" 

But  this  time  her  father  was  in  the 
middle  of  a  sentence,  and  had  forgotten 
who  was  asking  him  the  question,  so  he 
replied  quickly: 

"Very  seldom.  It  would  be  better 
if  they 'did." 

Poor  little   Muriel!     She   turned   very 


cold  and  white  and  walked  slowly  from- 
the  room. 

When  luncheon  time  came  she  couldn't 
eat,  and  afterwards  she  went  to  the- 
music-room  to  try  to  unravel  things. 
Her  mother  and  Dorothy  were  drivings 
and  Miss  Chapman  w-as  lying  down 
wath  a  headache,  so  Muriel  stood  in  the 
window  thinking  very  deeply.  She  was 
only  six  years  old,  and  she  was  troubled 
with  a  very  weighty  trouble,  for  she  was 
afraid  that  both  Ned  and  Dorothy  were 
going  to  die,  or  else  live  with  broken 
hearts  inside  of  them,  which  would  be 
terribly  painful,  and  w^orse  than  the 
most  dreadful  splinters.  It  was  quite- 
evident  that  this  could  be  avoided  if 
Ned  were  not  going  away.  Of  course, 
he  was  leaving  on  account  of  the  "pride," 
but  surely  in  this  case,  Muriel  reasoned, 
the  "pride"  could  not  be  a  good  thing 
when  it  was  causing  so  much  trouble 
and  suffering.  She  thought  a  long  time, 
and  finally  the  little  frown  on  her  face 
cleared  away.  She  nodded  her  head 
vigorously  tw'o  or  three  times  and  left 
the  room. 

Her  big  white  hat  with  the  feathers 
was  on  the  nursery  bed,  for  her  mother 
and  Dorothy  were  to  return  at  five  and 
take  her  for  a  turn  in  the  park  before 
her  tea.  Muriel  tied  the  hat  under  her 
chin,  and  drew  on  her  gloves  quickly. 

"Now  where  might  you  be  goin',  Miss 
Muriel,  this  'ot,  'ot  day?"  asked  the 
footman  in  the  hall. 

"It  is  not  hot,  Thomas,"  said  Muriel 
severely,  "and  you  must  let  me  out  at 
once,  for  I  am  in  a  great  hurr^^" 

"Don't  you  go  beyont  the  comer,  now 
mind."  Thomas  drew  back  the  door 
slowly.  "I  suppose  Miss  Chapman  will 
be  watchin'  you  from  the  window." 

Muriel  walked  down  the  steps  in  quite 
a  stately  manner,  thinking  it  best  not  to 
enlighten  Thomas. 

It  was  late  September  but  very  warm, 
and  the  child  thought  she  must  walk 
fast.  Soon  her  cheeks  were  flushed  hot 
and  the  little  brown  curls  clung  damp 
on  her  forehead.  She  w-as  a  tiny  girl 
in  her  broad  hat  with  the  drooping 
feathers,  and  many  people  turned  to 
gaze   after   the    slender  figure   with   the- 


THE    PRIDE    OF   THE    PENNINGTONS 


477 


earnest    face    and    the  shining,   troubled 
eyes. 

A  half-hour  passed  before  she  reached 
the  officers'  quarters,  then  five  minutes 
to  the  barracks,  and  presently  she  stood, 
panting  and  weary,  at  the  broad  gate 
that  opened  to  the  square. 

There  were  a  thousand  soldiers  with- 
in, the  sun  hot  on  their  white  helmets 
and  scarlet  jackets,  and  the  band  was 
playing  "Rule  Britannia." 

"Could  you  tell  me  which  one  of  the 
men,  far  over  there,  is  my  cousin  Ned- 
die?" she  asked,  pushing  through  a 
crowd  of  little  boys  at  the  gate  and  ad- 
dressing a  very  tall  man,  who,  his  gun 
over  his  shoulder,  was  walking  impres- 
sively up  and  down  just  within  the  en- 
trance. To  Muriel's  intense  surprise 
he  paid  no  attention  whatever,  but  con- 
tinued calmly  pacing  on  his  beat.  There 
was  another  soldier,  however,  a  short, 
stout  man  with  a  fierce  ,red  moustache, 
who  had  been  smoking  and  leaning 
against  a  post.  He  sprang  towards 
Muriel  and  caught  her  up  in  his  arms 
very  unceremoniously. 

"What  are  you  doin'  here  'thout  your 
mammy?"  he  asked  her.  "Ain't  you 
afraid  the  Kunnell  '11  ketch  you  and  put 
you  in  the  'black  hole?'" 

"No,"  Muriel  answered  indignantly. 
"You  put  me  down  this  instant.  I  am 
not  a  baby,  and  I'm  not  afraid  of  the 
Colonel;  he's  a  very  nice  man." 

The  soldier  laughed.  "Are  you  one 
of  Captain  Greyson's  little  girls?"  he 
asked. 

"No."  Muriel  had  ceased  to  strug- 
gle, finding  it  unavailing,  and  besides, 
thinking  it  to  be  extremely  undignified. 
"I  don't  belong  to  the  regiment,  at 
least,  not  persacly.  I'm  Miss  Muriel 
Pennington,  and  I  want  mv  cousin 
Neddie." 

"I  see."  The  man  looked  at  her 
gravely.    "How  did  you  get  here?" 

"I  walked,"  slowly  and  flushing  a 
little.  "You  see,  mother  and  Dorothy 
were  in  the  carriage,  and  maybe,"  more 
slowly  still  and  her  cheeks  getting  very 
red  indeed,  "they  wouldn't  have  brought 
me  an\-way." 

"In  short,"  the  soldier  said  seriously, 
"you  nmned  away." 


"I  walked,"  she  replied,  as  a  lung  line 
of  soldiers  drew  near,  a  dashing  horse- 
man leading  them.  "'There's  Colonel- 
Harry  now,"  she  observed,  excitedly, 
' '  Call  him  quick .  Colonel  Ha  rrv  1  Colonel 
Harr— " 

But  the  stout  man's  hand  was  over 
her  lips  in  a  minute. 

"Don't  you  do  that,  you  naughty  girl,"' 
he  said,  his  face  as  red  as  his  mous- 
tache. 

Muriel  was  wildly  excited.  She* 
screwed  her  little  face  from  under  his^ 
palm.  "I  shall,  I  shall:  Colonel  Harry!" 
she  screamed. 

"Now,  don't  that  beat  all."  The 
soldier  put  her  down  abruptly,  and  de- 
liberately turned  his  back  on  her,  going, 
to  the  fence  quickly  as  the  Colonel  came 
up  and  passed  close  beside  them. 

■'Tompkins,"  he  shouted,  "take  care 
of  the  child  until  after  the  review,"  and 
he  was  gone. 

Immediately  the  stout  soldier  returned 
and  lifted  the  Httle  girl  in  his  arms- 
again. 

"Ain't  you  ashamed  fer  bein'  a  noisy, 
naughty  miss?"  he  said.  "All  the  little 
boys  at  the  gate  are  laffin'  at  you,  anc! 
the  Kunnell's  in  a  fine  rage.'' 

"I  don't  care  if  he  is  angry,"  and 
Muriel  leaned  back  stiffly.  "You  put 
me  down.  I'm  going  in  there  to  tind 
Neddie  myself." 

"Not  muchee  you  won't.  You've  got 
to  mind  orders." 

"You're  a  very  wicked  man." 

"Oh,  come,  now,  you  heard  what  the 
Kunnell  said." 

"It  doesn't  make  any  difference,"" 
angrily.  "He  isn't  any  relation  to- 
me." 

At  this  the  stout  man  pursed  up  his 
Hps  and  \\Tinkled  his  eyes,  but  didn't 
say  anything.  Muriel  decided  to  trv 
new  tactics. 

"You  know,"  she  said  slowly,  "if  you 
don't  put  me  dowTi,  and  let  me  go  tc> 
Neddie,  maybe  he'll  be  gone  and  I  can't 
tell  him." 

"Who's  Neddie?"  The  man  regarded 
her  earnestly. 

"Neddie  is  Lieutenant  Edward  Pen- 
nington, and  he's  going  to  sail  for  India 
to-night."     Muriel    began    her    sentence 


478 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


proudly,  but  ended  in  rather  a  tremulous 
tone. 

"My  dear  little  lady,"  the  soldier  said 
quickly,  "why  didn't  you  tell  me  so  in 
the  first  place?  The  Lieutenant  went 
down  to  the  boat  with  his  man  and  his 
traps  this  morning.  An'  sorry  we  were 
to  see  him  go.     'E's  a  rare  good  sort." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Muriel.  "It's 
very  kind  of  you  to  say  so.  Would  you 
please  take  me  to  the  boat  now  ?  I  must 
see  him  before  he  goes." 

"I  can't  do  that."  The  man  shook 
his  head  gravely.  "That's  agin  orders. 
I  can't  leave  the  grounds." 

"Then  please  show  me  the  way  at 
once  that  I  may  go."  Muriel  laid  two 
little  trembling  hands  on  his  shoulder. 
"If  he  should  leave  without  seeing  me, 
he  might  die  or  worse  than  die."  Her 
eyes  grew  very  dark. 

The  soldier  looked  puzzled. 

"Is  anything  the  matter  with  the 
Lieutenant?"  he  asked.  "He  was  white 
about  the  mouth  I  remember  this  morn- 
ing.    He  ain't  ill,  is  he?" 

"How  'white  about  the  mouth'?" 
-questioned  Muriel  fearfully. 

"Pale,"  the  soldier  explained;  "pale 
in  the  face." 

"Well,  it's  worse  than  illness,"  Muriel 
-said  in  a  low,  strained  voice.  "It's 
the  'pride  of  the  Penningtons'  that  ails 
Mm." 

I    The  man  looked  blank.     "The  what?" 
he  asked. 

"The  'pride  of  the  Penningtons.'  You 
see,"  the  child  went  on,  "they've  both 
got  it,  he  and  Dorothy.  It's  a  dreadful 
thing.  Maybe  you  didn't  know  they 
were  to  be  married  on  Saturday?" 

"I — I'd  heard  something  of  it,"  more 
blankly  still. 

"Well,  you  must  try  and  not  think 
about  it  any  more,"  sadly,  "because  it 
isn't  going  to  be.  Unless,"  brightening 
a  little,  "he  will  do  as  I  ask  him.  Neddie 
is  very  good  to  me,  you  know." 

"An'  is  that  what  you  come  'ere  for?" 
asked  the  soldier,  rather  stupidly,  as 
Mviriel  thought.  "To  talk  the  Lieu- 
tenant out  of  going  to  India?" 

"Yes.  Do  you  suppose  he'll  stay? 
You  see,"  coaxingly,  "I  shall  tell  him  all 
about    it.     Poor    Dorothy    cries    terribly 


and  looks  so  white  and  strange,  and 
Neddie  cried  too." 

"It's  a  bad  business,  ain't  it?"  the 
soldier  said.  "But  maybe  you'd  better 
wait  and  tell  the  Kunnell  the  rest.  I 
don't  understand  such  things,  not  bein' 
one  of  the  gentry." 

"It's  the  trouble  of  the  'pride,'" 
Muriel  explained  gravely.  "I  didn't 
understand  it  either  till  I  asked  father. 
There's  good  pride  and  bad  pride.  Doro- 
thy and  Neddie  have  it  the  bad  way." 
Then  she  added  honestly, "  Father  didn't 
speak  of  them,  but  I  know." 

"You're  a  rum  un,"  the  man  smiled. 
"You  wait  now  and  tell  the  Kimnell 
about  it.     He'll  make  it  all  right  for  you." 

Muriel  sat  very  quietly  in  his  arms 
until  all  the  soldiers  had  filed  off  the 
field,  then  the  Colonel  came  up,  his 
horse  galloping  very  fast.  He  drew  rein 
beside  them  and  took  the  little  girl  from 
Tompkins,  placing  her  in  front  of  him. 
Muriel  saw  him  give  the  soldier  a  piece 
of  money — she  leaned  from  the  saddle 
and  held  out  her  hand  to  her  stout  friend. 

"Thank  you  for  taking  care  of  me," 
she  said.     "Good-bye." 

As  they  went  across  the  square,  the 
Colonel  asked  her  why  she  had  come, 
and  Muriel  told  him  gravely  that  she 
wished  to  see  Neddie  before  he  sailed, 
and  she  hoped  that  Colonel  Harry  would 
take  her  at  once  to  the  boat. 

The  latter  jumped  from  his  horse 
when  they  reached  the  verandah,  and, 
lifting  Muriel  down,  told  the  groom  to 
bring  his  trap  immediately.  In  a  very 
few  minutes  they  were  seated  again,  a 
footman  perched  behind,  and  two  pranc- 
ing black  horses  to  draw  them. 

When  they  had  gone  some  little  dis- 
tance in  silence,  Colonel  Harry  told 
Muriel  that  she  must  not  think  of  going 
to  the  boat,  that  cousin  Ned  was  very 
busy  and  would  not  be  pleased  to  see 
her.  He  would  take  her  home  before 
her  mother  returned  and  grew  anxious. 

"Mother  will  not  be  anxious,"  Muriel 
said,  a  dry  sob  coming  up  in  her  throat 
and  choking  her.  "She  isn't  coming 
home  until  five."  Then  she  swallowed 
very  hard.  "Please,  Colonel  Harry," 
she  went  on,  trying  to  speak  bravely 
and  convincingly,     "I — I  must  see  Ned- 


1 


THE   PRIDE    OF   THE   PENNINGTONS 


479 


die,  you  know.  If — if  I  don't,  he  and 
Dorothy  will  surely  die." 

"Dorothyl"  sharply.  "What  do  you 
mean,  Muriel?" 

"It's — it's  a  terrible  thing  the  matter 
with  her.  She  hides  a  broken-in-two 
heart  behind  a  smiling  face." 

"What  are  you  talking  about?"  stern- 
ly. Then  more  gently:  "My  dear  little 
Muriel,  have  you  been  dreaming  this? 
Speak  quietly." 

"I  never  remember  my  dreams," 
rather  haughtily.  "What  I  am  telling 
you  is  quite  true.  Neddie  has  the  same 
matter  with  his  heart,  all  broken  hke 
Dorothy's." 

The  Colonel  muttered  something  about 
"servants'  rubbish"  under  his  breath, 
and  Muriel  went  on  gravely: 

"Most  likely  you  don't  understand 
either.  But  you  see  the  trouble  of  it 
all  is  the  'pride  of  the  Penningtons.' 
They've  both  got  it.  Mother  said  so. 
It's  far  worse  than  measles  or  whooping 
cough.     It's  worse  than  dying,  even." 

"Who's  been  talking  to  you?"  asked 
the  Colonel  in  a  curiously  quiet  voice. 

"No  one  persacly."  Muriel's  face  be- 
gan to  grow  warm.  "I — I  heard  some 
of  it.  I  didn't  think  about  it  being 
listening  just  then.  It  was  after  the 
dinner  party  and  I  was  peeping  in  at 
mother  and  Dorothy.  Dorothy  wants 
him  to  come  back.  She  said  so.  Only 
she  won't  ask  him  on  account  of  the 
'pride.'  It  hurts  them  both  so.  Neddie 
cried.  Fancy,  big  tall  Neddie,  x^h!" 
catching  her  breath,  "I. think  they  would 
both  get  well  if  he  would  onlv  come 
back." 

"Did— er— did  Dorothy  cry?"  The 
Colonel's  face  burned  red,  and  then 
turned  white  even  to  the  lips. 

"Dorothy  was  quite  alone  in  the 
room,"  Muriel  rephed  steadily.  "And 
she  stretched  out  her  arms  like  this,  and 
she  called  softly,  'Neddie,  Neddie,  come 
back  again.'  And  the  tears  were  all 
wetting  her  face." 

The  Colonel  turned  his  horses  sud- 
denly in  the  middle  of  the  street  and, 
touching  them  wnth  the  whip,  dashed 
down  and  round  and  up  a  dozen  roads, 
until  Muriel  looking  ahead  could  see  a 
gleam  of  water  and,  closer  in,  the  tall 


masts  and  black  smokestacks  of  count- 
less ships.  A  few  more  minutes  and 
the  Colonel  stopped  his  horses,  and  he 
and  Muriel  left  the  dogcart  with  the 
footman  and  went  dow^n  a  very  busy 
walk,  through  great  iron  gates  and  dim 
warehouses  to  a  wide  wharf.  Here  a 
huge  white  steamship  loomed  up  before 
them,  and  they  crossed  the  gang\vay 
and  went  aboard.  The  Colonel  said 
something  to  a  man  in  a  blue  uniform 
with  a  lot  of  gold  buttons  on  it,  and  when 
this  man  had  left,  they  walked  up  and 
down  the  broad  white  decks  for  a  long 
time,  it  seemed  to  Muriel.  The  sun, 
going  down,  was  colouring  the  ship  all 
gold,  when  a^t  last  she  saw  the  man  in  the 
blue  uniform  come  in  sight  again,  and 
behind  him  the  tall  figure,  the  grave  face 
and  the  close-cropped  curls  of  cousin 
Neddie.  He  did  not  have  on  his  mili- 
tary clothes,  but  wore  a  long  blue  coat 
that  reached  to  his  heels  and  a  steamer  cap. 
He  did  not  smile  at  all,  even  when  he 
saw  Muriel.  He  and  the  Colonel  saluted 
stifSy,and  then  Neddie  asked  in  a  strange, 
high-pitched  voice: 

"Have  you  any  further  orders,  sir?" 

Colonel  Harr}'  smiled  slightly,  and 
looked  down  at  Muriel. 

"This  little  lady  has  something  to 
tell  you,"  he  said.  "You  will  oblige 
me  very  much  if  you  will  take  my  trap 
and  drive  her  home.  I  want  to  see  the 
captain  for  a  few  moments.  You — er 
— will  return  in  ample  time  for  me?" 

"My  letters  are  not  half  finished,  sir," 
began  Ned,  haughtily. 

"Neddie,  dear,"  ventured  Muriel  timid- 
ly. She  was  quite  afraid  of  him,  he  was 
so  cold  and  different  from  the  laughter- 
loving  Neddie  she  had  known. 

The  Colonel  went  forward  and  put 
his  hand  on  the  Lieutenant's  shoulder. 
He  said  something  to  him  in  a  low^  voice, 
and  then  turned  abruptly  away,  walk- 
ing into  the  saloon. 

The  young  man  looked  dazed  for  a 
moment  and,  standing  still,  gazed  after 
him,  then  he  bent  down  to  Muriel  and, 
picking  her  up  in  his  arms,  held  her 
very  close  to  him  and  left  the  bodl.^ 

Presently  they  were  seated  in  the  tall 
dogcart  and,  at  cousin  Ned's  request, 
the  little  girl 'explained  all  that  has  been 


480  THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 

■told.     It    was    twilight    before    they  had  together.     But  the  door  opened  very  sud- 

half   finished   their   journey,   and   in   all  denly  just  then,  and,  instead  of  Thomas, 

this   great   while   cousin   Ned   had   only  a  slender  white-robed  figure  stood  there, 

spoken  two  words  to  Muriel — "Go  on."  with   the   light   from   behind   making   a 

By-and-bye  he  took  the  reins  in  one  hand  halo  of  the  golden  locks  around  her  head, 

and  put  the  other  arm  around  her  tightly;  "Muriel,    Muriel,    is    it    Ned?"    and 

then  he  bent  and  kissed  her  twice,  and  then  her  voice  wavered  and  choked,  and 

[Muriel  felt  his  lashes   wet    against   her  she    came    out    into    the    vestibule,    her 

cheek.  arms  outstretched. 

It  was  dark  when  they  reached  home.  Muriel  was  not   quite  sure   who  was 

Along  the  quiet  streets  the  lights  were  holding   her   after   that,   but   she   heard 

lit  in  the  houses,  and  upstairs,  in  Doro-  Ned    say    "Thank    God."     And    when 

thy's   sitting-room,   someone   was   stand-  they  went  into  the  hall  together  and  she 

ing    close    against    the    window    peering  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  dear 

out  into  the  night.  faces   she   loved,   she   concluded   in   her 

"Will^will   you   ask    Dorothy   if   she  wise  little  way  that  they  were  both  al- 

will    see   me   for   a    little   while?"    Ned  ready    beginning    to    recover    from    the 

asked  Muriel,  as  they  went  up  the  stairs  terrible  "pride  of  the  Penningtons." 


Winter:    A  Reverie 


BY  J.  HARRV  SMITH 

WHEN  winter  winds  shriek  down  the  street. 
The  dreary  street  of  bricks  and  snow, 
And  swaying  arcs  of  warmthless  hght 
Throw  shiv'ring  shadows  to  and  fro; 
While  yellow-gleams  from  curtained  sash 
But  blacker  make  the  low'ring  gloom. 
I  hear  no  passing,  muffled  feet, 
When  winter  \rinds  shriek  down  the  street. 

From  out  my  hearth  a  ruddy  tire 

Throws  grateful  rays  of  sun-gold  light. 

It  is  the  sun  of  summer's  eve, 

Through  quiv'ring  leaves  made  gently  bright. 

My  arm-c!iair  is  the  mossy  bank 

Of  brooklet,  gay^  with  insect  life; 

Smoke  whiflfs  as  summer  cloudlets  meet, 

Though  winter  winds  shriek  in  the  street. 

Adown  the  glade  a  merry  noise 

Of  laughing  children  fills  the  breeze; 

But  whence  this  song  of  tinkling  bells, 

A  sound  not  bom  of  wind-swung  trees? 

]VIy  dream  is  gone,  a  melody 

Of  sleigh-bells,  horns  and  cheery  shouts 

Re-make  the  night,  and  rise  to  greet 

The  mad,  gay  wind  that  fills  the  street. 


THE    ALL-VX    TCKBIXE    STEAMSHIP    VICTORIAN 


An  Epoch  in  Canadian  Shipping 

By  RAX  DO  LP H  CARLYLE 


Affording  a  glimpse  of  a  tremendous  change  from  the  sails 
of  early  navigators  to  the  turbines  of  the  Allan  Line 


HEX  the  indomitable  ex- 
plorer, Jacques  Cartier,  first 
sailed  in  Canadian  waters, 
about  four  hundred  years  ago, 
he  little  dreamed  that  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Atlantic,  in  the  ancient 
seaport  of  St.  Malo,  a  monument  would 
be  erected  centuries  later  to  perpetuate 
his  name  as  the  pioneer  trader  in  what 
was  destined  to  become  one  of  the  world's 
,Teat  routes  of  commerce  by  sea.  His 
was  a  great  achievement  against  great 
'idds.  Depending  entirelv  on  wind  and 
-ail,  he  buffeted  the  gulf  gales,  and  brought 
what  would  now  be  regarded  as  little 
more  than  a  fisherman's  sloop  into  the 
tide  waters  of  the  greatest  inland  water- 
way in  the  world.  But  the  name  of 
Jacques  Cartier,  notwithstanding  his  great 
I  eat  of  discovery,  is  scarcely  more  signifi- 
ant  in  the  history  of  the  navigation  of 
Canadian  waterways  and  of  Canadian 
shipping  than  others  who  have  come  upon 
the  scene  some  centuries  later  and  who 
have  been  outstanding  figures  in  the 
7— 4S1 


various  epochs  in  the  evolution  of  ocean 
and  inland  navigation.  Be  it  almost 
enough  to  say  that  to  Canada  may  be 
claimed  the  credit  for  producing  the  first 
vessel  to  cross  the  Atlantic  with  no  pro- 
pelling power  apart  from  steam. 

^Vhile  we  now  regard  Cartier's  means 
of  nawngation  as  entirely  primitive,  it  was 
not  until  within  the  fourth  century  after 
he  na\-igated  the  St.  LawTence  that  steam 
became  an  actual  factor  in  the  propelhng 
of  vessels  at  sea.  And  it  was  not  until 
1852  that  Canadian  shippers  really  awoke 
to  their  opportimities,  when  Messrs.  Allan, 
the  pioneers  in  steam  nawngation  between 
Great  Britain  and  Canada,  made  a  con- 
tract \w-ith  the  Canadian  Government  to 
provide  a  mail  ser-vice  between  the  old 
country  and  the  new.  That  was  an  im- 
portant day  for  this  countn,-,  and  -with  the 
granting  of  that  first  subsidy  by  the  Gov- 
ernment for  a  trans- Atlantic  mail  ser\ice 
went  an  impetus  to  Canadian  shipping 
that  is  felt  even  to  this  day,  and  which  has 
succeeded  in  building  up  between  Cana- 


482 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


dian  ports  and  ihe  great  shipping  centres 
of  England,  Ireland  and  Scotland,  a 
steamship  service  that  ranks  all  round 
with  the  best  in  the  world. 

In  considering  the  growth  and  changes 
in  shipping  between  Canada  and  the  old 
country,  even  going  back  to  almost  the 
beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century,  the 
name  "Allan"  stands  out  easily  above  all 
others,  and  indeed  it  is  impossible  to  deal 
with  the  history  of  Canadian  shipping 
without  giving  large  place  to  the  succeed- 
ing generations  of  those  who  have  borne 
the  name  of  Allan  and  who  have  been  con- 
nected with  the  various  companies  of 
which  that  name  has  been  so  long  identi- 
fied. Few  persons  living  now  can  trace 
this  chain  back  farther  than  the  advent 
of  the  most  prominent  figure  of  all,  that 
of  Sir  Hugh  AUan.  But  Sir  Hugh  was 
not  the  first  of  his  historic  stock  to  navigate 
our  waters.  The  founder  of  the  Allan 
Line  was  really  Captain  Alexander  Allan, 
father  of  Sir  Hugh,  a  Scotch  youth,  who 
early  e\-inced  a  yearning  for  the  sea. 
This  lad,  after  serving  his  apprenticeship, 


■) 

^V^HI 

^^Cj^^I 

p 

hH    I 

n 

^^^^^^^Li^-^^     -'^:-  ■    ^^.JMIK^  "^^^^li  £  '  ^^ 

H 

^^^IP7  "^^^^^Itf^^^HV 

CAPTAIN   ALEXANDER  •ALL.\N,    FOUNDER 
.\LLAN   LINE   OF   STE-\MSHIPS 


soon  rose  to  the  command  of  a  brig  called 
the  Jean,  a  vessel  that  was  employed  to 
carry  supplies  to  the  Duke  of  Wellington, 
who  was  then  campaigning  in  the  Penin- 
sula. Two  years  later,  in  1822,  Captain 
Allan  sailed  for  Canada  in  search  of  new 
cargoes  for  his  vessel,  and  it  is  interesting 
to  note  that  his  first  voyage  from  Glasgow 
to  Quebec  started  a  line  of  steamships 
that  has  gone  back  and  forth  with  increas- 
ing numbers  and  importance  during 
eighty-five  years. 

In  those  days  wind  was  the  propelling 
force,  and  the  voyages  were  consequent!}' 
long  and  subject  to  great  peril  and  hard- 
ship. But  the  business  was  profitable, 
and  by  the  end  of  eight  years  Captain 
Allan  increased  his  equipment  by  four 
larger  vessels  than  the  Jean,  and  inaugur- 
ated a  regular  service  of  clipper  packets. 
Few  persons  now  have  the  length  of  days 
to  recall  the  experiences  of  a  voyage  across 
the  Atlantic  in  those  times  or  to  look  upon 
the  great  ocean  greyhounds  of  our  day, 
and  at  the  same  time  enjoy  a  retrospective 
view  of  the  small  vet  picturesque  craft 
that  immediately  preceded 
the  turning  point  in  the 
history  of  marine  na^■igation. 
But  any  one,  however  lacking 
in  imagination,  could  form 
at  least  a  moderate  idea  of 
what  it  meant  for  Captain 
Allan  to  surmount  in  his 
day,  vnth  his  fragile,  wooden 
vessels,  the  same  winds,  the 
same  icefloes  and  the  same 
rocky  coasts  that  in  this 
twentieth  century,  against 
all  the  advantages  of  ad- 
vanced engineering  skill, 
sometimes  make  prey  of  the 
great  le\-iathans  of  the  deep. 
Nevertheless,  a  precise  illus- 
tration of  the  difference  is 
available.  The  Montreal 
Gazette  of  September  28, 1839, 
contained  the  following  ad- 
vertisement: "For  Greenock: 
The  well-known  coppered 
ship  Canada,  329  tons  reg- 
ister, Bryce  Allan,  Com- 
mander, now  loading  and  will 
have   immediate   dispatch 


! 


AN   EPOCH    IN  CANADIAN   SHIPPING 


483 


For  passage  only,  apply  U) 
Captain  Allan,  on  board,  at 
the  Cross,  or  to  Miller,  Ed- 
monstone  and  Allan."  Sixty- 
six  years  later,  after  innumer- 
able vicissitudes  and  con- 
tinuous evolution,  the  Allans 
adopted  the  latest  system  of 
steam  propulsion,  the  turbine 
engine,  and  increased  their 
already  large  fleet  by  two 
magnificent  steamers,  each 
of  1 2 ,000  tons  register.  From 
329  tons  in  one  vessel  to  12,- 
000  tons  in  another  is  a  great 
advance,  and  yet  that  was 
attained  in  less  time  than  it 
takes  a  man  to  live  out  the 
allotted  span.  It  might  be 
well  here  to  mention  that 
Captain  Bryce  Allan  was  a 
son  of  Alexander  Allan  and 
a  brother  of  Sir  Hugh.  He 
acted  for  twenty  years  at 
Liverpool  as  managing  owner 
of  the  Kne,  and  when  he  died 
his  two  nephews,  Robert 
and  James  Allan,  succeeded 
him,  and  have  been  repre- 
sentatives of  the  line  at  Liver- 
pool for  the  last  thirty-six 
years.  Eight  years  after 
Captain  Alexander  Allan's  first  voy- 
age to  Canada,  the  fleet  of  the  Allan 
Line  consisted,  among  other  vessels,  of 
the  Canada,  the  Favourite,  the  Brilliant, 
the  Blonde,  the  Pericles  and  the  Gypsie. 
Doubtless  these  names  are  familiar  to 
persons  still  Uving  in  Canada,  because  the 
vessels  that  carried  them  were  favourite 
means  of  transportation  across  the  Atlan- 
tic in  those  days.  Twenty  years  later, 
after  iron  had  come  into  use  as  a  material 
for  shipbuilding,  the  Allan  fleet  contained 
the  Strathearn,  the  Minerva,  the  Strath- 
hlane.  the  Glenfinarf,  the  Gleniffer.  the 
Ardmillan  and  the  Romsdal. 

Many  readers  will  be  curious  to  know 
something  about  the  advent  of  Hugh 
Allan,  who  afterwards  became  so  well 
known  all  over  Canada.  He  was  one  of 
five  sons  of  Alexander  Allan.  The  other 
four  sons  were  James,  Bryce,  Andrew 
and  Alexander.  Hugh  came  to  Canada 
in  1826,  and  five  years  later  entered  into 


JSIR    HUGH    ALLAX,    WHO    FOR   MANY     YE.\RS    WAS    A   PROMI- 
NENT FIGURE   IN    CANADIAN   SHIPPING    CIRCLES 


partnership  in  the  shipping  business  with 
Miller,  Edmonstone  and  Company,  a  firm 
which  later  became  Edmonstone,  Allan 
and  Company.  Eight  years  later  Hugh's 
brother  Andrew  came  out  and  soon  en- 
tered the  partnership  with  his  brother. 
About  twenty  years  later  Mr.  Edmon- 
stone retired,  and  from  that  time  to  the 
present  the  affairs  of  the  Allan  Line  on 
this  side  of  the  Atlantic  have  been  con- 
ducted under  the  firm  name  of  H.  and  A. 
Allan.  After  the  death  of  the  founder  of 
this  Hne,  two  of  the  sons,  James  and 
Alexander,  conducted  the  business  in 
Glasgow,  while  their  brother  Br\xe  took 
charge  of  the  office  at  Liverpool.  That 
left  three  brothers  in  the  old  country  and 
two  in  the  new.  The  business,  which  was 
by  this  time  well  established,  began  to 
expand  rapidly,  but  for  forty  years  it 
continued  under  the  management  of  the 
quintette  of  brothers.  Hugh  became  the 
most  prominent  of  all,  and  in   1871,  in 


484 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


view  of  his  services  to  Canadian  com- 
merce, he  was  recommended  lor  knight- 
hood, and  received  that  distinction  irom 
Queen  Victoria  in  187 1.  Although  this 
knighthood  did  not  carr}-  with  it  heredi- 
tary rights,  Sir  Hugh's  son,  H.  Montagu 
Allan,  had  the  same  distinction  bestowed 
upon  him  a  few  years  ago  by  King 
Edward.  The  Allans  at  present  identi- 
fied with  the  ser\ice  are  as  follows:  Sir 
H.  ^Montagu  Allan,  Mr.  Hugh  A.  Allan, 
Mr.  Andrew  A.  Allan  and  Mr.  Bryce  J. 
Allan. 

The  first  regular  steamship  service  be- 
tween Great  Britain  and  America  is  cred- 
ited to  Mr.  S.  Cunard,  of  Halifax,  who 
made  a  contract  with  the  British  Govern- 
ment in  1850  to  provide  a  fortnightly 
ser\ice  of  mail  steamers  between  Liver- 
pool and  Halifax,  and  on  to  Boston. 
That  was  followed,  however,  two  years 
later,  by  a  contract  between  the  Canadian 
Government  and  McKean,  McLarty  and 
Lament,  of  Liverpool,  for  a  fortnightly 
mail  service  between  Liverpool  and  Mon- 
treal in  summer,  and  Liverpool  and  Port- 


land in  winter.  An  attempt  was  made  to 
carry  out  the  contract,  but  the  resvdt  was 
failure,  and  therefore  the  contract  was 
cancelled.  Notwithstanding  so  discour- 
aging a  circumstance,  H.  and  A.  Allan, 
just  one  year  later,  1853,  agreed  with  the 
Canadian  Government  to  provide  the 
same  ser^ice.  To  carry  out  the  objects 
of  this  agreement  necessitated  great  addi- 
tions to  the  fleet,  and  as  steamships  had 
just  then  begun  to  replace  sailing  vessels, 
the  time  might  be  regarded  as  of  consid- 
erable significance  in  connection  with  the 
history  of  the  growth  of  shipping  to  and 
from  Canada.  The  first  steamer  to  be 
built  was  the  Canadian.  She  was  ready 
in  1853,  and  was  followed  soon  by  the 
Indian,  the  North  American  and  the 
Anglo-Saxon. 

It  should  be  remembered  that  at  that 
time  the  Intercolonial  Railway  had  not 
been  undertaken,  and  so  there  was  no 
railway  between  the  Maritime  Provinces 
and  the  west.  Montreal  was  the  simimer 
terminus  on  this  side,  but  there  had  to  be 
as   well  a   winter  terminus   in   order  to 


S.S.    VIRGINIAN MUSIC    ROOM 


AN    EPOCH    IN    CANADIAN    SHIPPING 


18" 


S.S.    VIRGINIAN DINING    SALOON 


provide  an  unbroken  yearly  service.  The 
Grand  Trunk  Railway  was  completed  to 
Portland  that  very  year,  1853,  and  there- 
fore Portland  became  the  winter  terminus 
of  the  new  steamship  line.  However, 
the  Intercolonial  was  yet  to  come  as  a 
condition  of  Confederation.  It  was  com- 
pleted in  1S76,  connecting  Quebec  with 
Halifax,  which  thereafter  became  the 
winter  port  of  the  Allan  Line  of  Royal 
Mail  Steamships.  Six  years  later  the 
fortnightly  service  was  increased  to  a 
weekly  service,  which  has  been  continued 
ever  since. 

The  increasing  opportunities  for  trade 
between  Canada  and  Great  Britain  would 
not  permit  the  Allans  to  rest  contented 
with  this  achievement,  so  plans  were 
continually  being  considered  to  embrace 
new  routes  and  additions  to  the  fleet. 
In  1862  a  line  was  estabhshed  to  run 
between  Glasgow  and  ^lontreal,  and  it 
became  so  successful  that  ten  years  later 
the  service  was  increased  to  a  permanent 
weekly     service.     Later    again     Canada 


was     placed     in     direct     connection     by 
steamer  with  London. 

It  should  not  be  overlooked  that  dur- 
ing all  the  years  of  which  mention  has 
already  been  made,  the  steamship  com- 
panies doing  business  between  Canada 
and  Great  Britain  were  at  a  great  dis- 
advantage, because  Canada  had  not 
come  into  the  UmeHght  as  one  of  the 
countries  of  new  and  great  possibilities. 
Neither  had  our  own  people  been  aroused 
to  the  importance  and  the  magnificent 
possibiUties  of  our  export  trade.  Tour- 
ists were  not  coming  this  way  in  great 
numbers,  and  indeed,  we  are  scarcely 
yet  coming  into  our  own  in  that  respect. 
The  United  States  was  the  countn,-  in 
the  world's  eye  then,  and  attention  was 
generally  attracted  that  way.  The  steam- 
ship companies  doing  business  between 
New  York  and  the  large  European  ports 
enjoyed  an  overwhelming  share  of  pat- 
ronage, but  nevertheless  the  Canadian 
companies  more  than  held  their  own, 
and   forged   ahead   with   creditable   per- 


486 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


severance.  Although  in  those  days,  and 
even  down  until  quite  recently,  many 
persons  thought  it  sounded  well  to  be 
able  to  say  they  had  sailed  to  or  from 
New  York,  it  is  gratifying  to  know  that 
as  far  back  as  1878,  when  Princess  Louise 
and  the  Marquis  of  Lome  came  to  Can- 
ada, they  chose  the  steamship  ^t/nna/wn, 
one  of  the  Allan  Liners.  They  were  so 
well  pleased  with  the  voyage  that  they 
returned  by  the  same  vessel. 

In  those  days,  and  even  down  to  about 
1890,  the  second  cabin  accommodation, 
which  has  become  a  feature  of  modern 
ocean  travel,  was  scarcely  an  appre- 
ciable quantity,  the  provision  for  the 
comfort  of  passengers,  apart  from  the 
first  cabin  quarters,  being  little  better 
than  is  now  provided  in  the  steerage 
apartments  of  the  most  modern  vessels. 
These  conditions,  however,  have  alto- 
gether changed,  for  to  travel  "second 
cabin"  now,  in  a  vessel  such  as  the  Vic- 
torian or  Virginian,  the  new  Allan  Line 
turbine  steamships,  is  to  enjoy  the  lux- 
uries of  the  average  well-to-do  home, 
and   better   than   the   first   cabin   accom- 


modation was  even  just  a  decade  ago. 
There  has  been  good  reason  for  these 
changes.  Canada,  within  the  last  ten 
years  at  least,  has  enjoyed  a  tre- 
mendous impetus,  and  travellers  and 
tourists  of  all  manner  and  means  are 
coming  this  way,  and  in  increasing 
numbers,  by  the  direct  steamship 
routes.  Travellers  have  come  to 
know  that  accommodation  on  the  best 
Canadian  steamships  is  first  class,  and 
Canadians  themselves  have  at  last  come 
to  be  not  afraid  of  being  regarded  as  a 
little  provincial  if  they  patronise  home 
industry  on  the  great  seas.  Trade  with 
Great  Britain  has  also  advanced  with 
enormous  strides,  and  therefore  the 
steamship  companies  have  felt  war- 
ranted in  providing  a  service  that  would 
compare  with  the  best  anywhere.  There 
are  two  advantages  to  Canada — short- 
ness of  route  and  natural  beauty  of 
scenery  along  the  St.  Lawrence  River 
from  the  Gulf  to  Montreal.  These  two 
things,  shortness  of  route  and  beauty  of 
scenery,  are  really  of  great  importance. 
Of   all   the   persons   who   travel,   almost 


.S.    VICTORIAN' S.MOKIXG    ROOM 


AN  EPOCH    IN    CANADIAN    SHIPPING 


487 


everyone  does  it 
either  for  business, 
for  pleasure,  for 
heallii,  or  a  com- 
bination of  two  or 
all  of  these  reasons. 
If  a  i)crson  travels 
for  business,  he 
wants  to  reach  his 
destination  as  soon 
as  possible,  if  for 
pleasure  to  have  as 
much  comfort  as 
possible,  and  to 
come  into  contact 
with  new  and  at- 
tractive things;  if 
for  health,  to  see 
whatever  tends  to 
attract  and  solace 
the  eye  and  to  en- 
counter the  things 
that  refresh  and 
restore.  For  these 
reasons,  if  for  no 
other,  the  Cana- 
dian route  is  bound 
to  increase  in  pop- 
ularity with  amaz- 
ing rapidity. 

Perhaps  the 
greatest  question 
before  steamshijj 
owners  all  over  the 
world  just    now 

is,  What  is  the  maximum  of  size 
and  speed  in  keeping  with  profitable 
operation  ?  That  question  seems  to  ap- 
ply with  particular  fitness  here  in  Canada. 
We  hear  a  great  deal  of  talk  about  a 
fast  mail  service,  about  short  routes,  and 
about  summer  and  winter  ports,  but  it 
is  doubtful  whether  the  general  public, 
and  even  many  of  those  who  do  a  good 
deal  of  the  talking,  really  appreciate  the 
meaning  of  what  they  presume  to  dis- 
cuss. While  this  article  is  not  intended 
to  be  a  technical  consideration  of  the 
economics  of  shipbuilding  and  ship 
operating,  there  is  at  the  same  time  a 
hope  that  it  may  serve  to  give  some  idea 
of  what  a  great  and  involved  problem 
a  serious  consideration  of  the  ocean 
transportation  question  really  is.  Ac- 
cording   to    conditions    in    Canada,    two 


TYPE    OF    FIRST-CABIX    STATEROOM    IX    ALLAX    TURBINE    STEAMSHIPS 


things  must  contribute  to  the  support 
of  a  steamship — passengers  and  goods. 
Of  course  a  vessel  can  be  profitably 
operated  between  Canada  and  Great 
Britain,  depending  entirely  on  goods  for 
revenue,  but  it  is  impossible  as  yet  to 
throw  the  goods  out  and  depend  entirely 
on  passengers. 

But  that  seems  to  be  exactly  what 
must  happen  if  the  speed  that  is  talked 
about  so  much  is  ever  to  be  accomplished. 
Every  knot  that  is  added  to  the  speed 
of  a  vessel  after  it  has  attained  what  is 
now  regarded  as  a  fairly  high  rate,  say 
of  sixteen  to  twenty-two  knots,  means 
the  elimination  of  a  tremendous  amount 
of  cargo  space  in  order  to  provide  room 
for  the  increased  size  of  engines  and 
coal  bunkers. 

The  new  large  Cunarders,  for  instance, 


488 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


are  being  set  out  for  a  speed  of  twenty- 
five  knots  an  hour.  In  order  to  attain 
that  their  makers  have  had  to  abandon 
almost  entirely  the  idea  of  carrying 
freight,  the  space  usually  given  over  for 
that  purpose  being  recj^uired  for  the  ex- 
tra large  engines,  boiler  rooms  and  coal 
bunkers.  It  is  estimated  that  a  vessel 
of  the  new  Cunard  type  will  consume 
one  thousand  tons  of  coal  every  twenty- 
four  hours,  and  of  course  that  means  a 
proportionately  large  number  of  men 
to  handle  the  coal  and  of  space  to  con- 
tain it.  The  design  of  the  vessel  must 
of  necessity,  also,  be  extremely  elongated 
both  from  well  amidships  forward  to 
the  bow  and  also  backward  to  the  stern, 
in  order  to  cause  as  little  friction  as  pos- 
sible passing  through  the  water.  To 
carry  out  a  design  of  that  kind,  much 
of  the  space  that  is  ordinarily  reserved 
for  cargo  has  had  to  be  abandoned  al- 
together. It  is  estimated  also  that  it  takes 
just  about  twice  as  much  motive  power  to 
drive  a  vessel  at  the  rate  of  twenty-five 
knots  an  hour  as  it  takes  to  drive  at  the 


rate  of  twenty-two  knots  an  hour.  To  the 
inexperienced  mind  that  appears  to  be 
tremendously  out  of  proportion.  If  it 
takes,  say,  250  tons  of  coal  a  day  to  run 
one  of  the  Allan  turbine  steamers  at  an 
average  speed  of  seventeen  knots  an  hcnir, 
the  dift'erence  between  the  cost  of  running 
a  vessel  of  that  type  and  one  of  the  large 
Cunarders  of  a  speed  of  twenty-five  knots 
would  be  readily  appreciated,  especially 
when  it  is  considered  that  the  latter  will 
consume  four  or  five  times  as  much  coal. 
But  coal  is  not  the  only  thing.  There 
are  as  well  the  men  to  handle  it,  the 
space  to  put  it  in,  and  the  men  also  to 
run  the  extra  large  engines.  Each  of 
the  Allan  turbine  steamships  employs 
a  crew  of  350,  while  a  crew  of  one  of 
the  large  Cunarders  numbers  well  up 
towards  1,200.  The  Allan  turbiner  Vic- 
torian or  Virginian  is  well  equipped 
with  a  crew  of  350.  So  large  an  army 
of  men  as  1,200  working  in  the  lower 
portions  of  a  vessel  at  sea  is  a  thing  of 
tremendous  significance,  and  it  might 
well  be  res;arded  as  a  real  menace  rather 


Mf  umm 
^  mam 

man 


PROMEXAl>i;     I'lXK        Atl.AN"    TIRBIXE    STEAMSHIPS 


AN    P:P0CH    in    CANADIAN    SHIPPING 


489 


than  a  help  in  a  time  of  genuine  peril. 
Men  who  work  in  the  holds  of  great 
vessels  are  of  necessity  not  of  the  higher 
order,  and  it  is  not  to  be  expected  of 
such  that  they  display  chivalry  and 
heroism  in  case  of  disaster.  It  is  enough 
to  imagine  what  might  be  the  result  to 
an  equal  number  of  passengers  were  a 
sinking  ship  to  disgorge  a  thousand  of 
these  men  on  to  the  upper  decks,  vieing 
with  one  another  for  a  means  of  safety. 

A  good  idea  of  the  difference  in  the 
cost  of  maintaining  one  of  the  large 
steamships  as  compared  with  the  smaller 
vessels  may  be  formed  from  the  fact 
that  vessels  of  a  speed  of  twenty-five 
knots  can  carry  practically  no  cargo  at 
all,  while  a  vessel  such  as  the  Allan  tur- 
biners,  which  maintain  a  speed  of  seven- 
teen knots,  carry  2,000  tons  of  cargo,  and 
vessels  of  the  type  of  the  Tunisian  and 
Corsican,  with  a  speed  of  fifteen  knots, 
carry  five  thousand  tons.  It  may  be 
seen,  therefore,  that  to  increase  the 
speed  from  fifteen  knots  to  seventeen 
knots  means  a  diminishing  of  capacity 
from  5, 000  tons  to  2,000  tons,  while  to 
increase  the  speed  from  seventeen  knots 
to  twenty-five  knots  means  the  cutting 
out  of  cargo  altogether.  Briefly,  that  is 
the  great  problem  that  confronts  Cana- 
dian shipowners  to-day.  It  would  no 
doubt  be  a  very  nice  thing  to  see  vessels 
that  could  maintain  a  speed  of  twenty- 
five  knots  sailing  up  and  down  the  St. 
Lawrence,  but  if  that  picture  is  ever  to 
be  realised,  it  looks  as  if  there  will  have 
to  be  an  entire  revolution  in  the  system 
of  propulsion  at  sea.  Under  existing 
conditions  no  steamship  company  in 
Canada  would  scarcely  undertake  to 
pro\ade  vessels  that  would  maintain  a 
speed  of  twenty-five  knots,  unless  the 
Government  would  subsidise  them  to 
the  e.xtent  of  almost  bankrupting  the 
pubhc  exchequer.  The  new  Allan  tur- 
biners  are  of  12,000  tons  register.  If 
they  had  to  maintain  a  speed  of  twenty- 
five  knots  they  would  have  to  be  of  about 
30,000  tons  register. 

Those  who  advocate  a  fast  steamship 
serAice  should  stop  to  consider  whether 
they  would  be  willing  to  back  up  a  pri- 
vate   company    with    public  funds  suffi- 


ciently t(j  enable  the  project  to  be  suc- 
cessfully carried  out. 

As  it  is,  with  vesseLi  of  a  speed  of 
seventeen  knots  the  mails  from  Great 
Britain  are  landed  in  Canada  in  about 
six  days'  time.  The  Virginian  has  ac- 
tually landed  them  in  five  days,  four- 
teen hours.  It  is  a  question,  therefore, 
if  to  cut  that  time  down  to  five  days  or 
a  Httle  less,  the  great  expenditure  neces- 
sary would  be  warranted.  It  is  out  of 
the  question  just  now  to  presume  that 
the  Canadian  route  could  maintain  a 
large  and  highly  expensive  exclusive  pas- 
senger business.  It  is  not  even  certain 
that  the  New  York  route  vdW  maintain 
it  profitably,  but  if  it  should  maintain 
it  with  profit,  considering  the  difference 
in  wealth  and  population  of  the  United 
States  with  Canada,  we  can  at  least  hope 
that  the  day  is  not  far  distant  when  the 
Canadian  route  will  do  Hkewise.  How- 
ever, with  steamships  like  the  Allan  tur- 
biners  we  are  pretty  well  equipped 
after  all.  The  Allans  were  the  first  to 
put  the  turbipe  theory  into  actual  prac- 
tice in  trans-oceanic  navigation.  They 
are,  therefore,  the  pioneers  in  that  re- 
spect. To  them  as  a  Canadian  com- 
pany also  can  credit  be  given  for  other 
initial  steps.  They  were  the  first  to 
build  a  steel  ocean  steamer,  which  was 
the  Buenos  Ayrean,  built  in  1881.  They 
were  the  first  trans- Atlantic  line  to  use 
bilge  keels  on  vessels,  beginning  in  1884 
with  the  Parisian. 

It  should  be  satisfactory  to  all  who  are 
interested  in  Canadian  shipping  to  know 
that  the  turbine  in  ocean  navigation  has 
not  proved  to  be  the  failure  that  so  many 
persons  predicted.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  o'miers  appear  to  be  greatly  pleased 
with  the  venture.  From  the  standpoint 
of  the  passenger,  the  Allan  turbiners 
leave  little  to  be  desired,  and  that,  after 
all,  is  what  the  public  care  most  about. 
But  from  the  owner's  standpoint  there 
seems  to  be  certain  limitations;  for  in- 
stance, the  turbine  would  not  be  the 
most  economical  means  of  propelling  a 
vessel  of  less  speed  than  the  Victorian 
or  Virginian,  or  in  other  words,  than  a 
vessel  with  a  speed  of  less  than  seventeen 
knots.     As  vessels  of  the  size  and  t\-pe 


490 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


of  the  Allan  lurbiners  seem  to  have 
reached  about  the  maximum  practic- 
able in  the  ocean  steamship  business  to 
the  St.  Lawrence,  for  some  time  at  least, 
it  is  only  reasonable  to  suppose  that 
they  will  stand  as  the  model  of  the  high- 
est present  day  attainment  for  our  waters. 

For  the  benefit  of  those  to  whom  the 
name  "turbine"  does  not  convey  any 
clear  idea,  it  may  be  explained  that  the 
mode  of  producing  rotatory  motion  in 
the  shafting  and  its  attached  propellers 
is,  in  principle,  the  same  as  that  of  the 
old-fashioned  windmill,  the  force  in  tur- 
bine, however,  being  steam  instead  of 
\\and,  and  the  angled  arms  and  sails  of 
the  windmill  being  represented  in  the 
turbine  by  metallic  vanes  set  on  the 
surface  of  a  conical  casting,  which 
forms,  by  attachment,  the .  forward  end 
of  the  propeller  shafting;  these  vanes, 
working  into  counterpart  flutings  on  a 
fixed,  surrounding,  hollow  casting,  com- 
plete the  dexnce.  The  steam,  entering 
at  the  forward  end  of  this  combined  ar- 
rangement of  blades,  can  only  find  pas- 
sage by  forcing  the  parts  attached  to  the 
shafts  into  rapid  revolution.  Rushing 
along  with  the  momentum  due  to  its 
volume  and  boiler  pressure  at  one  end, 
supplemented  by  the  withdrawal  of 
atmospheric  pressure  by  means  of  power- 
ful air  pumps  operating  at  the  other  end, 
the  steam  imparts  a  steady,  unceasing, 
rotatorv  movement  to  the  propellers, 
utilising  to  the  best  advantage  the  whole 
boiler  power  of  the  ship. 

A  few  v/ords  on  the  "Victorian,"  which 
apply  also  to  the  Virginian,  might  not  be 
out  of  place.  Her  length  is  540  feet;  her 
breadth,  60  feet;  her  depth,  40  feet  6 
inches.  She  is  divided  by  bulkheads 
into  eleven  compartments,  and  ^vith  the 
sub-divisions  of  her  double  bottom  she 
has  twenty  water-tight  spaces.  She  is 
built  to  the  highest  class  of  the  British 
Corporation  Registr}'  of  Shipping,  and 
her  hull  has  been  specially  strengthened 
above  the  requirements  of  the  corporation 


in  order  to  make  her  doubly  secure  against. 
the  heavy  weather  of  the  North  Atlantic. 
The  first-class  accommodation,  which,  as 
usual,  is  amidships,  is  of  the  most  com 
plete  and  approved  order.  Perfectly 
heated  and  ventilated  staterooms,  and 
suites  of  rooms,  a  spacious  and  well-fitted 
dining-saloon,  an  elegantly  appointed 
music-room,  and  a  luxuriously  equipped 
smoking-room  are  some  of  the  features. 
Not  less  comfortable  proportionately  are 
the  second-class  quarters,  and,  as  already 
indicated,  third-class  passengers  are  cater- 
ed to  in  the  most  liberal  manner.  Electric 
light  throughout,  a  complete  printing  out- 
fit, and  an  installation  of  Marconi's  wire- 
less telegraphy  are  among  the  arrange- 
ments for  the  comfort  and  convenience  of 
passengers. 

The  cargo  space  available  is,  not\vith- 
standing  the  large  complement  of  passen- 
gers, comparatively  large  and  the  facihties 
for  its  rapid  handling  and  discharge  are 
of  the  most  up-to-date  and  efl&cient 
nature.  Four  large  derricks  are  arranged 
on  each  mast,  the  lifting  capacity  of  each 
being  up  to  seven  tons.  These,  together 
with  two  crane  post  derricks,  make  ten 
in  ail,  for  the  working  of  which  ten  double 
cylinder  steam  winches  are  supplied. 
Special  attention  has  been  given  to  the 
arrangement  of  the  cargo  holds,  and  the 
ordinary  round  pillar  supports  for  the 
decks  have  been  largely  discarded  in 
favour  of  special  girders  and  supports 
which  leave  the  holds  freer  for  the  recep- 
tion, stowage,  and  discharge  of  cargo. 
Insulated  chambers  for  the  carriage  of 
fruit  and  dair}'  produce  from  Canada  are 
pro\'ided  in  conjunction  with  refrigerating 
plant. 

WTiile  it  must  be  admitted  that  the 
possibilities  of  ocean  naNigation  are 
still  uncertain,  it  is  safe  to  predict  that 
as  far  as  Canada  is  concerned  the  pioneer 
name  of  Allan  ^^^ll  long  continue  to  be 
associated  ■with  the  highest  attainment 
in  this  most  intricate  science  and  pic- 
turesque art. 


An  Unexpected  Surrender 

Bv  OWEN  E.  McGILLICUDDY 


How   the   light   in   an   old   man^s   life    went   out  hejore  a 
greater  and  brighter  illumination 


THE    MEETING 

r  was  July.  The  metallic 
rasping  of  the  myriads  of 
grasshoppers  served  but  to 
accentuate  the  listlessness 
and  loneliness  which  seemed 
to  pervade  the  world.  The  leaves  of  the 
trees  hung  motionless,  the  creek  scarcely 
voiced  a  murmur  as  it  slid  from  pool  to 
pool,  the  shadows  lay  long  on  the  mirror- 
like surface  of  the  water,  and  the  wide- 
eyed,  somnolent  cattle  stood  stock-still  and 
ruminant  in  the  shingly,  leg-deep  shallows 
that  stretched  almost  stagnantly  beneath 
the  willow-trees. 

Just  below  the  ford  where  a  straggling 
concession  road  made  passage  of  the  stream 
a  young  man  sat  at  the  edge  of  a  shadow- 
flecked  eddy,  above  which  he  dangled 
idly  a  long  fishing  rod  and  line.  He  was 
a  big,  broad-shouldered  fellow  clad  in  blue 
overalls;  his  eyes,  too,  were  blue  and  his 
hair,  as  much  of  it  as  was  visible,  was  fair 
and  curly.  Thirty  yards  across  the  stream 
in  front  of  him  and  just  at  the  foot  of  an 
overhanging  beech  there  was  a  spring, 
beside  which  a  brown,  rusty  pail  leaned. 
Beyond  the  spring  a  ragged  hillside 
cumbered  \vith  underbrush,  stones  and 
knotted  roots,  upreared  itself  steeply. 
Up  the  hillside,  zigzagging  erratically 
because  of  the  laborious  climb,  a  little 
pathway  led  from  the  spring  toward  a 
brown  farmhouse  which,  though  hidden 
by  the  intervening  trees,  stood  on  the 
plateau  above. 

It  was  this  path  that  the  loiterer  was 
watching  to  the  neglect  of  his  rod  and 
his  line.  When  the  vagrant  breeze  shook 
the  bushes  which  obscured  the  narrow- 
approach,  he  half  rose  expectantly,  and 
even  after  he  had  dropped  back  disap- 
pointed, the  carelessness  of  his  posture 
was  belied  by  the  eagerness  of  his  gaze. 
491 


Presently  the  bushes  were  stirred  by  other 
than  the  wind,  and,  parting  the  branches 
before  her,  a  girl  with  a  bucket  stepped 
through.  She  was  quite  a  pretty  girl, 
and  her  pink  gingham  dress  and  white 
sunbonnet  lent  a  pleasing  variety  of 
colour  to  the  path.  This  time  the  man 
stood  fully  erect  watching  her  and  waiting. 

Perceiving  the  intruder  upon  her  pri- 
vate domain  the  girl  gave  a  ht tie  start 
of  surprise,  then  tilting  her  sunbonnet 
forward  she  came  dovra  and  leaned  over 
the  spring. 

"Sa-a-y!"  The  man  was  \try  red. 
Twice  he  had  essayed  to  call  to  her,  but  it 
seemed  to  him  that  his  swiftly  beating 
heart  had  each  time  risen  in  his  throat 
and  choked  him.  Then  he  had  realised 
that  his  opportunity  was  passing,  and  at 
last  he  had  spoken,  but  his  voice  sounded 
odd  and  strained.  Would  she  wither 
him  with  a  scornful  glance  or  would  she 
take  up  her  bucket  quickly  and  vanish 
along  the  path? 

She  did  neither.  She  Ufted  the  pail, 
now  filled  to  the  brim,  and  placed  it  on 
the  broad  flat  stone  at  the  side  of  the 
spring;  then  she  faced  him  calmly  and 
answered  him. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked. 

Her  eyes  seemed  to  disconcert  him  and 
he  cast  about  hurriedly  for  words.  "C'n 
— c'n  I  come  over  there  an'  get  a  drink?" 

For  one  moment  the  girl  w^as  disposed 
to  laugh  at  him — to  tell  him  that  the 
spring  and  the  pail  had  been  there  ere  she 
came,  and  would  be  there  after  she  had 
gone.  But  the  man  w^as  yoimg  and 
goodly  to  look  upon  and  the  woman  was 
a  daughter  of  Eve,  hence  she  cast  a  quick 
glance  backward  at  the  path.  There  was 
nothing  there  save  a  sparrow  balancing 
itself  on  a  bough,  so  she  trusted  herself  to 
look  at  the  tempter  again. 

"Yes,"   she   replied,   glancing  first  at 


49^2 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


the  stream  and  then  back  at  him  doubt- 
fully ;  "come,  if  you  want  to." 

He  understood  her  look.  "There's  a 
foot-log  below,"  he  said,  "but  I'll  cross 
so."  He  caught  an  overhanging  branch 
and  swung  himself  Hghtly.  In  another 
moment  he  was  across  and  almost  at  her 
side.  A  look  of  admiration  crept  into 
her  eyes  as  she  stooped  to  fill  the  dipper. 
He  started  suddenly.  "Lemme  do  that," 
he  ejaculated.  He  caught  at  the  dipper, 
and  as  he  did  so  his  hand  touched  hers. 
The  contact  thrilled  him.  She  gave  up 
the  utensil  reluctantly.  Somehow  it 
seemed  to  her  that  it  would  have  been 
good  to  serve  him  even  in  so  little  a  thing. 

Then  as  he  began  to  apologise  she 
looked  at  him  curiously.  Last  Sabbath 
he  had  been  seated  just  opposite  to  her 
in  the  church,  and  his  home  lay  yonder, 
not  a  fuU  two  miles  from  her  own.  All 
his  life  she  had  known  of  his  comings  and 
goings,  and  yet  never  before  had  he 
spoken  to  her.  Twenty  years  ago  their 
forbears  had  indulged  in  a  "falling  out" 
— a  httle  thing  at  first,  but  one  which  had 
speedily  grown — and  since  that  time  no 
Nixon  had  spoken  to  a  Hains,  nor  a  Hains 
to  a  Nixon.  And  yet,  to-day,  after  aU 
these  years  of  strife,  a  Hains  had  come 
of  his  own  free  will  to  put  foot  on  the 
Nixon  soil,  and  to  ask  from  a  woman  of 
the  Nixons  the  favour  of  a  drink  from 
her  hands.  Why  had  he  come?  To 
fish?  She  glanced  at  the  neglected  rod 
and  smiled  at  the  very  suggestion. 

When  he  had  drunken  she  retook  the 
dipper,  and  their  fingers  touched  again. 

"You're  John  Hains,  aren't  you?" 
she  asked,  looking  up  at  him  and  smiling. 
Underneath  the  smile  she  was  question- 
ing as  to  what  her  father  would  say, 
should  he  find  this  nsitor  here. 

Influenced  by  her  smile  a  sudden  ac- 
cession of  courage  came  to  the  man.  He 
had  been  afraid  that  she  might  remember 
that  quarrel  which  their  fathers  had  made, 
and  for  aU  his  six  feet  of  stature  he  was 
unused  to  women  and  sensitive.  Moreover, 
above  all  others  this  woman  had  power  to 
make  him  feel.  Now,  however,  he  was 
assured,  and  he  laughed  aloud. 

"Just  to  think,"  he  said,  "of  you  an' 
me  purtendin'  not  to  know  one  another. 
Why,  I've  been  a-knowin'   you,   Annie, 


since  you  were  so  high" — and  he  meas- 
ured gleefully  with  his  hand.  "Gee 
whiz,  hpw  pretty  you  were'  I  didn't  dare 
speak  to  you,  but — but — "  His  face 
was  growing  red  again,  and  a  new  light 
had  come  into  his  eyes. 

The  woman's  wit  of  the  girl  gave  her  a 
sufficient  warning,  and  she  moved  un- 
easily. "I — I've  got  to  be  goin'  now," 
she  remarked  apologetically. 

"Would  you" — the  man  had  grown 
nonplussed  and  awkward  again — ^"  would 
you  mind,  Annie,  if  I — I  came  back 
sometimes — to — to  get  another  drink?" 

She  looked  down  at  the  hem  of  her 
apron,  then  gathered  it  up  in  her  fingers 
and  creased  it  into  tiny  folds.  How 
angry  her  father  would  be  if  he  but  knew. 

"Father — "  she  stammered,  "father, 
he — "  It  was  she  who  was  embarrassed 
now.  The  man  nodded  ,  confidentially. 
"I  know,"  he  said,  "I  know.  That's 
why  I  asked  you." 

She  glanced  at  him  shyly.  "I — I 
don't  mind,"  she  replied. 

He  picked  up  the  bucket.  "I  wish  I 
could  carry  it  for  yeh,"  he  remarked.  "I 
would,  only — "  He  was  half -minded  to 
walk  with  her  straight  to  her  father's 
door  and  tell  that  old  man  that  his  folly 
of  quarrelHng  must  straightway  cease. 
But  she  interrupted  him. 

"It  wouldn't  do — it  would  make  more 
trouble.  I  must  go  now.  Good-bve — 
J-John." 

'Rie  man  stood  watching  her  contem- 
platively as  she  vanished  up  the  path. 
All  his  Hfe  he  had  wished  to  accost  her, 
to  make  himself  agreeable  to  her,  but  he 
could  not  because  his  elders  and  hers — 
those  elders  who  think  themselves  so 
wise,  and  who  wish  to  be  as  gods  in  regu- 
lating the  affairs  of  their  children — had 
ordered  other^nse.  Once — they  were  at 
school  then  and  she  had  forgotten  all 
about  it,  no  doubt — he  had  thrust  a  big, 
red  apple  into  her  hand  and  had  run 
away  hastily;  and  she,  being  a  wise  little 
girl,  had  immediately  eaten  the  apple  lest 
some  one  should  be  questioning.  In 
after  years  when  more  of  maturity  and 
self-consciousness  had  come  to  him  he  had 
hidden  his  preference  and  had  looked 
upon  her  furtively.  But  even  as  he  grew 
tall  and  strong,  so  his  desire  had  grown; 


AN    UNEXPECTED    SURRENDER 


49.'5 


yet  Fate  and  his  ciders  were  against  him 
all  the  while.  But  to-day  manhood  had 
dawned,  and  he  had  come  here  to  take 
Fate  by  the  throat  and  to  speak  to  the 
girl.  Yesterday  he  had  been  a  child, 
heedful  of  those  who  commanded  him; 
now  he  was  ready  to  make  his  own  prob- 
lems and  to  .solve  them. 

When  the  girl  had  di.saj)j)earcd  he  turn- 
ed back  to  the  creek,  strode  through  the 
weeds  and  brushwood  to  the  foot-log  which 
lay  below.  Then  cro.ssing  this  he  took 
his  way  homeward  through  the  sunlight 
that  fell  upon  the  fields  of  gold. 

II 

THE    AWAKENING 

Slow'ly  following  the  path  the  girl  came 
with  lingering  footsteps  to  the  top  of  the 
hill,  and  to  the  corner  of  that  clover-field 
beyond  which  lay  the  gray  porch  of  the 
weather-beaten  dwelHng.  At  the  rail 
fence  she  halted  a  moment.  Already 
the  afternoon  w^as  passing  and  the  old 
house  and  the  apple  trees  at  its  back 
barred  with  long  lines  of  shadows  in  their 
setting  of  purple  and  gold — the  purple  of 
the  clover-bloom  and  the  streaming  gold 
of  the  sun — while  at  the  gate  of  the  clean 
Httle  yard  her  father  stood  shading  his  eyes 
and  looking  toward  the  farm  hands  w^ho 
were  at  w^ork  in  a  distant  w^heatfield. 

At  the  sight  of  the  grizzled  old  man 
the  girl's  conscience  smote  her  suddenly. 
People  of  the  neighbourhood  called  Bill 
Nixon  a  harsh  man  and  one  given  to 
prejudices,  but  he  had  never  seemed  .so  to 
her,  for  she  was  his  child  and  her  mother 
w^as  long  .since  dead.  To  her,  therefore, 
he  was  father  and  mother  in  one;  in  her 
childhood  he  had  nurtured  her,  and  in 
her  fair  young  womanhood  he  was  proud 
of  her.  All  this  she  knew  and  now  it 
seemed  to  her  that  she  had  sinned  against 
him  in  that  she  had  failed  to  scorn  the 
man  from  whom  he  would  have  withheld 
her.     And  yet — 

She  was  not  willing  to  follow  up  all  her 
questionings.  What  she  had  done  w'as 
done — why  think  further  of  such  a  trivial 
thing?  She  swung  her  bucket  clear  of 
the  fence,  and  hfting  her  skirt  daintily, 
she  went  toward  him  across  the  clover. 
He  was  grownng  old;  his  labours  of  other 


days  had  prospered ;  now  in  the  evening 
of  life  he  could  rest  if  he  wished  to.  So 
he  had  left  his  "hands"  at  their  work, 
and  had  come  for  cool  water  and  refresh- 
ment into  the  shade  of  the  apple  trees. 

His  eye  twinkled  as  .she  approached. 
"Somebody  mislaid  the  .spring?"  he 
asked,  solicitouslv. 

"W%?" 

"We-e-ell,  you  was  gone  quite  a  while, 
so  I  thought  mebbe  the  place  had  been 
moved  an'  that  you  was  a-lookin'  fer  it." 

She  walked  to  the  shelf  that  was  on  the 
porch  and  put  the  bucket  away.  Usually 
she  replied  to  banter  in  kind,  but  now  she 
was  silent  and  seemingly  wished  to  escape. 

But  the  old  man  did  not  notice  this. 
He  was  thinking  of  other  things.  And 
when  he  had  quenched  his  thirst  and  had 
slanted  a  chair-back  downward  against 
the  porch-facing,  he  brought  a  pillow, 
placed  it  upon  this  incline  which  he  had 
made,  and  stretched  himself  upon  the 
floor.  There  he  dozed  for  a  while,  and 
afterward  he  watched  the  girl  from  his 
half-closed  lids,  and  looked  now  and  again 
at  the  robins  which  were  nesting  in  his 
trees.  Last  year  there  had  been  but  one 
nest,  he  remembered,  but  now,  since  the 
young  birds  of  last  season  had  builded, 
there  w'ere  two.  Then,  as  he  turned  his 
eyes  away  and  gazed  down  the  stretch  of 
nearby  road,  he  could  see  another  house 
which  was  brow-n  and  old  like  his  own; 
beyond  that  men  were  moving  about — 
men  who  looked  tired  and  small  in  the  hot 
and  hazy  distance — and  a  raw,  new  frame 
of  yellow  pine  was  being  reared.  That 
was  Sam  Wilson's  place,  and  the  new 
house  belonged  to  Sam's  son.  The 
young  folks  were  marrying  off,  and  here 
and  there  new  nests  w-ere  a-building. 

Presently  he  looked  at  his  daughter 
again,  and  a  queer  httle  jealous  spasm 
tugged  sharply  at  his  heart.  Some  day 
— it  was  not  a  very  distant  day  perhaps — 
she  too  would  be  going.  He  shrunk  from 
the  thought;  it  frightened  him.  One 
by  one  he  told  off  in  his  mind  the  young 
men  of  the  neighbourhood — all  save  John 
Hains,  there  was  no  use  counting  a  Hains, 
he  told  himself — and  being  dissatisfied,, 
he  shook  his  head  at  each.  With  which 
among  them  all  could  he  trust  her  ?  Even 
now,  though  she  was  grown  to  be  a  woman,. 


494 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


he  could  still  feel  the  pressure  of  her 
childish  arms  about  his  neck,  the  clasp 
of  her  baby  fingers  upon  his  own.  She 
had  been  so  little,  so  loving,  and  he  had 
spoiled  her,  perhaps;  and  this  man  who 
would  take  her  from  him  wouldn't  know 
about  that — and — how  could  it  be 
possible  that  she  should  care  for  that  one 
more  than  she  cared  for  "daddy" — rough, 
tender-hearted  old  "daddy,"  who  loved 
her  so  ? 

So  his  soul  was  disquieted,  and  the 
broad  sun  slipped  down  and  kissed  the 
western  hills  and  the  labourers  came  home 
from  the  fields  singing  and  whisthng  along 
the  paths.  But  the  girl  took  no  heed  of 
the  undertone  of  sadness  and  of  vague 
regret  in  it  all,  nor  was  she  conscious  of 
the  rich  blaze  of  fading  sunset  colour,  nor 
of  the  dying  hght  on  the  hills,  nor  of  the 
shadows  creeping  up  the  village,  nor  of 
the  night  birds  calling  from  the  orchard 
and  the  woods.  True,  the  night  had 
come,  but  Annie  was  thinking  of  the  after- 
noon, and  of  the  spring,  and  the  man  in 
the  dark-blue  overalls.  It  was  good,  she 
thought,  to  live  and  she  went  singing  about 
her  work. 

Ill 

THE   BATTLE 

Between  the  man  and  the  girl  there  had 
been  other  meetings — such  frequent  meet- 
ings that  the  gossiping  housewives  of  the 
neighbourhood  wagged  their  heads  sagely, 
and,  when  "two  or  three  were  gathered 
together  in  one  place,"  they  indulged 
themselves  freely  in  forecasts  and  ad- 
ventured forth  into  prophecy.  Did  they 
not  know  Bill  Ni.xon,  and  was  John  Hains 
a  man  easily  controlled  and  readily  turned 
aside  in  his  purpose  ? 

But  regardless  of  the  comments  of 
others  the  two  continued  to  see  each  other 
sometimes — this  on  meeting-days — at  the 
church,  sometimes  by  accident  as  they 
travelled  the  country  road,  and,  if  Bill 
Nixon  suspected  aught,  he  gave  no  sign — 
at  least,  none  that  his  daughter  or  the 
public  could  read.  To  some  it  seemed 
that  the  old  man  had  wilfully  shut  his  eyes 
and  did  not  wish  to  see.  Others  averred 
that  such  was  Nixon's  hatred  for  a  Hains 
that  it  had  not  even  occurred  to  him  that 


his  daughter  would  look  at  John,  much 
less  tarry  within  the  sound  of  the  young 
man's  voice  or  hearken  to  his  stammering 
speech. 

"Bill  '11  waken  up  one  o'  these  days," 
said  one  of  the  apologists. 

"Dunno  as  I  blames  the  young  folks 
though.  John  Hains,  he  are  a  man — 
built  from  the  groun'  up,  he  is,  and 
muscled  like  a  steer.  An'  Annie — why, 
Annie,  bless  her  heart,  is  as  red-lipped 
as  a  young  rose,  an'  sir,  she's  clean-Hmbed, 
an'  as  light  in  her  pastern  j'ints  as  a 
thoroughbred  colt !  I  don't  blame  John — 
he's  got  a  good  farm,  an'  they'll  git  mar- 
ried one  o'  these  days,  an'  ole  Bill,  he'll 
r'ar  then  an'  pitch,  but  his  gal  '11  be 
married  all  right  enough,  so  it  won't  do  a 
bit  o'  good.  Yes,  siree,  Bill's  got  to  wake 
up  some  time.  I'm  dang  sorry  fer  Bill. 
I  shore  is." 

In  such  fashion  the  community  kept  the 
matter  forward  and  knew  far  more  of  its 
progress  than  old  Bill  did,  or,  as  for  that, 
even  Annie  herself  or  John. 

And  yet,  despite  this  absorbing  adven- 
ture which  was  stirring  the  good  folk  up, 
Nature  went  her  own  way  steadily  and  was 
neither  to  be  checked  nor  diverted.  But 
at  last  the  summer  passed  and  the  sun- 
light grew  slant  and  pale,  and  the  maples 
tinged  the  slopes  with  red,  and  the  golden- 
rod  shone  yellow  by  the  waysides  and 
filled  the  long  valleys  with  flame. 

And  because  the  year  was  dying  and 
the  old  things  were  passing  away,  the 
young  man  grew  lonely  and  came  once 
more  in  the  afternoon  stillness  to  the  creek- 
side  near  the  spring.  This  time  he  bore 
no  rod,  and  made  no  excuses — not  even 
to  himself — for  his  coming.  And  then 
about  the  girl  who  came,  meeting  him 
there.  When  he  looked  at  her  he  forgot 
all  his  shyness  and  awkwardness  and 
went  to  her  holding  out  his  arms. 

"Won't  you  come  to  me,  Annie?"  he 
called.     "Won't  you  come  now?" 

The  girl  drew  back  a  pace.  "John," 
she  remonstrated,  "John!" 

But  he  did  not  heed,  scarcely  had  he 
even  heard.  The  slanting  light  had 
transfigured  her,  and  he  could  not  give  her 
up  now.  With  a  swift  step  he  reached 
her  side  and  causfht  her  hands  in  his  own. 


AN   UNEXPECTED   SURRENDER 


49.5 


"1  love  you,  Annie,"  he  whispered,  pas- 
sionately; "will  you  come,  dearie — will 
you  come  ?" 

Almost  forcibly  he  drew  her  to  him,  and 
she,  resisting  no  longer,  let  her  dark  lashes 
droop  and  hid  her  face  against  his  arm. 
"John,"  she  whispered,  "John."  The 
words  were  the  same  as  before,  but  the 
intonation  had  told  him  all. 

Then,  on  the  hillside  above  them  a 
leafy  bush  quivered,  and  Bill  Nixon,  his 
heart  beating  fiercely,  parted  the  obscuring 
foliage  to  see  clearly,  if  he  might,  who  this 
man  was  who  had  come  to  steal  away  his 
child. 

"Hains!"  he  muttered.  "John  Hains, 
just  like  I  knowed  it  would  be.  An'  yet 
I  couldn't  believe — T  had  to  just  see  it 
myself." 

White-lipped  and  quivering  the  old 
man  loosed  his  hold  upon  the  branches, 
and  they  fell  back  into  place.  His  breath 
came  in  gasps,  and  a  spasm,  half  of  pas- 
sion, half  of  pain,  distorted  the  muscles 
of  his  face.  He  did  not  wish  to  give  his 
daughter  up — not  to  any  man — he  had 
fought  out  that  battle  with  himself.  But 
to  a  Hains — !  The  neighbours  had 
hinted  to  him  of  this,  but  even  in  the  face 
of  that  evidence  he  had  forced  himself 
to  disbelieve. 

He  parted  the  leaves  and  looked  down 
again.  Annie  was  leaning  against  the 
man's  arm  now. 

"No,"  he  heard  her  say,  hopelessly. 
"We  can't  tell  him.  He  wouldn't  under- 
stand— "  Somehow,  there  was  a  tremu- 
lous break  in  her  voice,  and  the  listener 
was  strangely  moved. 

"But  you'll  go  with  me?"  interrupted 
the  man. 

"Yes,"  she  murmured.  "Yes,  John — 
but  Daddy—" 

The  old  man  turned  stumblingly,  not 
waiting  to  hear  more.  Over  him,  quelling 
his  anger  and  frightening  him,  a  very 
great  change  had  come.  She  was  about 
to  leave  him.  What  could  he  do,  poor 
doddering  old  man  that  he  was,  to  pre- 
vent her? — and  she  was  all  that  life  had 
left  for  him.  How  like  her  mother's 
eyes  were  hers,  and  just  as  long  ago  her 
mother  had  looked  up  to  him,  so  the  child 
was  now  looking  up  to  John. 

In  such  wise  the  memory  of  his  own 


youth  came  upon  him  and  softened  him. 
Reaching  the  brow  of  the  hill,  he  crossed 
the  fence  and  the  fields,  and  came  with 
lagging  footsteps  to  a  little  plot  shadowed 
by  tall,  straight  maple  trees,  and  set  with 
smooth  white  stones.  Not  often  did  he 
turn  aside  here,  but  now  he  was  old  and 
troubled,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  he 
stood  alone. 

Looking  careworn  and  shrunken  he  sat 
down  on  the  grass.  He  was  so  dimisy, 
he  thought,  so  tactless  and  so  awkward, 
in  the  face  of  this  crisis.  But  Mary — 
Mary  who  slept  so  silently  there — she 
would  have  understood.  He  raised  his 
head.  Out  along  the  roads  the  waggons 
were  passing,  the  fields  were  golden  with 
grain,  and  rang  with  the  song  of  the  reaper. 
But  under  the  maples  there  was  quiet,  and 
an  infinite  solitude. 


IV 


THE   DECISION 

The  autumn  night  had  come.  There 
was  no  wind;  and  up  in  the  vault  of  the 
sky  there  sparkled  a  myriad  of  stars 
crisply  and  frostily.  In  her  own  room 
in  the  old  brown  house  the  girl  moved 
about  in  stealthy  yet  nervous  haste,  for 
this  was  her  wedding  night.  Her  fingers 
trembled  over  her  task,  but  their  intuitive 
deft  inteUigence  stood  her  in  stead  as  she 
folded  some  garments  and  packed  them 
into  her  bag.  Hurried  she  was  and  afraid, 
for  already  it  was  late,  and  presently  she 
must  slip  out  and  go  down  the  spring  path 
to  John,  w^ho  was  waiting  for  her  there. 

Presently  the  tears  came  into  her  eyes. 
The  homely  and  familiar  things  about 
her  seemed  to  say  good-bye.  Her  father 
would  never  forgive  her,  she  knew,  and 
her  mother's  picture  on  the  mantel-piece 
seemed  to  gaze  at  her  reproachingly. 
Yes,  she  was  leaving  it  all — her  Httle 
belongings,  her  memories  and  the  sight 
of  her  father's  face.  She  listened,  almost 
longingly,  for  some  sign  of  the  old  man's 
presence — a  movement,  a  cough,  or  a 
footfall.  In  a  little  while  he  stirred, 
passed  across  the  kitchen  floor,  and  she 
heard  the  back  door  creak  as  he  stepped 
out  in  the  yard. 

It  seemed  strange  to  her  that  one  of  his 
years  should  venture  abroad  so  late.     It 


496  THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 

was  not  his  custom,  and  it  might  be  that  "Daddy,"  she  whispered.     "Daddy!" 

in     the     darkness —     Almost     she      was  Aknost  as  if  in  answer  there   was  a 

minded  to  go  and  look  for  him.     But  she  footstep  in  the  path,  and  a  voice,  low  and 

could  not  tarry,  for  John— henceforth  and  subdued,  broke  the  silence  that  encom- 

forever  her  John — would  be  delayed  and  passed  her. 

wondering.  "Daughter !  "—the  girl  almost  screamed. 

She  caught  up  the  satchel  and  stepped  ^^^  ^^^^^^   ^^^   ^^^^   ^^  great- "Is  that 

out  mto  the  hght  of  the  stars.     A  hght  ^.^^  daughter?" 

breeze  stirred,  and  she  started  nervously.  '    ii,\t           m      u        ^              j        <<i7- 

■^          .,        -i!   ■>            £    .1             1     ^  Y-y-yes,       she     stammered.         Yes, 

From    the   shadows   of   the   apple    trees  f  th     '' 

great  shapeless  forms  seemed  to  reach  ^^  '  ^  ,  ,  ^  ,  ,  ,,  . 
blindlv  and  gropingly.  A  nameless  dread  ^.  ^^  came  o  her  and  took  her  gently  in 
assailed  her,  and  she  shut  her  teeth  hard  ^'^  ^rms.  He  s  down  there,  Annie,  he 
and  fled  whispered.  "Right  down  by  the  spring. 
For  a  space  she  ran  on  breathlessly.  I  went  down  a  minute  ago,  an'  I  found 
Then  she  recovered  herself,  stopped,  and  him  there.  An'— an'— I've  sent  fer  the 
looked  back.  Suddenly  she  turned  and  preacher,  Annie.  I  want  you  to  be  mar- 
held  out  her  arms  appealingly.  ried  at  home!" 


Furren  Pete 

BY    H.    A.    CODY 

THE  old  Dungarvon  River 
Sweeps  onward  to  the  sea, 
And  once  again,  as  oft  before, 
A  sad  scene  comes  to  me. 
I  hear  the  great  trees  murmur, 
And  meet  and  sway  o'erhead; 
I  see  the  waters  rave  and  swirl 
Down  through  their  rocky  bed. 
'Tis  not  of  these  I'm  thinking  most, 
But  of  that  fatal  day. 
When  with  the  awful  crash  of  doom 
The  mighty  jam  gave  way. 

For  days  upon  that  river 

We  forced  the  big  drive  down. 

No  stripling  held  a  pevie  there, 

But  drivers  of  renown. 

We  were  the  pick  of  all  the  land. 

In  muscle,  will,  and  thew. 

Great  giants  of  the  woodland  lore, 

We  formed  a  hardy  crew. 

But  none  could  handle  axe  or  log. 

Or  pevie  so  complete. 

As  one,  a  stranger  in  the  land, 

Whom  all  called  "Furren  Pete." 

So  day  by  day  the  drive  pressed  down, 

With  rocks  and  rapids  past, 

Till,  sweeping  through  the  Dead  Man's  Gulch, 

The  mighty  drive  stuck  fast. 

It  was  a  sight  to  thrill  the  heart. 


FURREX    PETE  497 

A  sight  but  seldom  seen, 

To  watch  those  massive  walls  of  rock, 

With  tossing  logs  between. 

And  higher,  higher  grew  the  jam, 

And  whiter  threw  the  foam, 

As  one  by  one  those  giant  logs 

Came  sweeping,  crashing  home. 

Between  those  flinty  crowding  walls 

A  boulder  barred  >the  way, 

O'er  which  the  waters  leaped  and  swirled, 

And  forced  the  drive  to  stay. 

And  there  across  that  rushing  flood, 

From  boulder  to  each  shore, 

The  logs  were  driven  like  a  wedge, 

Struck  by  the  sledge  of  Thor. 

That  mighty,  heaving,  twisting  mass. 

It  groaned,  and  strained,  and  pressed, 

But  with  the  awful  grip  of  death 

One  key-log  held  the  rest. 

"Now,  by  our  name  of  fair  renown. 

As  w'oodsmen  brave  and  true, 

And  by  the  trust  imposed  in  us. 

That  big  jam  must  go  through." 

So  spake  "Long  Jake,"  our  driving  boss, 

Whose  word  with  us  was  law*; 

And  there  in  awful  silence  deep. 

Each  driver  made  his  draw: 

To  know  which  man  must  cut  that  log 

A  fearful,  death-Hke  feat; 

And  while  we  waited  in  suspense, 

It  fell  to  Furren  Pete. 

A  strange  and  silent  man  was  Pete, 

At  times  so  rough  and  wild, 

But  often  we  would  notice  him 

As  gentle  as  a  child. 

He  cast  one  look  on  earth  and  sky. 

On  river,  tree,  and  sun. 

Then,  wnth  a  mighty  tiger  bound, 

Upon  that  big  jam  sprung. 

It  was  a  sight  to  numb  the  heart 

To  see  that  lone  man  stand 

Right  in  the  very  jaws  of  death, 

His  true  axe  in  his  hand. 

The  keen  steel  fiercely  bit  the  wood. 

The  whirling  chips  did  play, 

When  with  the  roar  of  pent-up  wrath 

The  surging  jam  gave  way. 

I've  seen  the  war-steed's  ringing  charge, 

I've  felt  the  bUzzard's  breath, 

But  never  did  I  see  before 

So  wild  a  race  with  death. 

With  death  close  pressing  at  his  back, 


498  THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 

^^'ith  death  beneath  his  feet, 

Right  o'er  that  tumbling  mass  of  logs 

Sped  lion-hearted  Pete. 

Down  through  the  narrow  rocky  gorge, 
Enwrapped  with  foam  and  spray, 
With  not  a  falter  or  a  reel. 
That  brave  man  made  his  way. 
He  held  his  own;   he  baffled  Death, 
And  almost  reached  the  shore, 
;  While  our  outburst  of  ringing  cheers 

Commingled  with  the  roar. 
But  suddenly  that  swirling  mass 
Yawned  right  beneath  his  feet, 
And  with  a  wild',  despairing  cry. 
Went  down  courageous  Pete, 

Straight  to  the  office  each  one  marched 

The  day  the  drive  came  down, 

Intending  with  his  season's  pay 

That  night  to  "do  the  town." 

With  pay  in  hand  we  turned  to  go, 

When  at  the  door  there  stood 

A  bright-eyed,  fair-haired  woman. 

Who  asked  for  Peter  Wood. 

To  us  stern  river-drivers 

Her  words  cut  like  a  knife, 

When  turning  to  Long  Jake  she  said, 

"You  know,  I  am  his  wife." 

She  did  not  swoon,  she  did  not  cry, 

When  Jake  the  story  told, 

But,  stooping,  clasped  a  little  child. 

Blue-eyed,  with  hair  of  gold; 

And  on  its  little  up-turned  face 

Her  kisses  rained  like  mad, 

As  sweetly  spoke  the  little  one, 

"Say,  mamma,  where  is  dad?" 

That  scene,  oh  God,  it  struck  us  hard! 

And  not  one  driver  spoke, 

But  tears  coursed  down  our  rugged  cheeks, 

While  strange  thoughts  in  us  woke. 

Then  we  rough  river-drivers 

Swore  by  the  God  o'erhead, 

To  guard  that  lonely  widow, 

In  memor)'  of  the  dead. 

There  was  no  rough  carousing. 

No  "doing  up  the  town," 

But  took  the  money  that  we  saved 

And  paid  the  widow  down. 

Though  many  years  have  passed  since  thei\ 

Our  vow  has  been  complete, 

For  not  one  year  have  we  forgot 

The  "wife  of  Furren  Pete." 


The  Governor-Generalship 


A    REJOINDER 

Bv  C.  F.  DEACON 


Contending   that   election   would   not   improve    the  system, 
with  a  general  defence  of  the  present  practice 


N  The  Canadian  Mag 
AziNE  for  February,  Mr.  W. 
D.  Lighthall,  K.C.,  wrote  an 
outspoken  criticism  of  the 
Governor- General's  function 
in  Canada,  and  a  plea  for  a  radical  change. 
He  says  that  among  the  manifold  adjust- 
ments, national  and  imperial,  which  the 
development  of  both  Canada  and  the 
Empire  force  upon  us,  it  is  obvious  that 
a  time  will  arrive  when  we  shall  have  out- 
grown the  Governor-Generalship  in  its 
present  form.  Mr.  Lighthall  appears  to 
think  the  time  for  a  change  has  already 
come.  May  one  venture  to  suggest  that 
he  is  somewhat  premature? 

Mr.  Lighthall  thinks  a  High  Commis- 
sioner sent  from  the  homeland  would  be 
a  great  improvement.  But  his  heart's 
desire  fs  that  the  Governor-General  should 
be  a  Canadian,  elected  by  the  people,  and 
clothed  with  the  powers  of  an  American 
President.  This  is  a  large  scheme  of 
change,  and  so  far  as  one  can  judge  from 
present  conditions,  neither  desirable  nor 
probable.  If  any  such  desires  had  ever 
had  lodgment  in  Canadian  minds,  the 
plans  laid  down  at  Confederation  would 
have  been  other  than  they  were.  Mr. 
Lighthall  thinks  Alexander  Mackenzie 
would  have  made  a  splendid  Governor- 
General.  I  was  under  the  impression  that 
he  failed  to  hold  popular  sympathy  be- 
cause he  refused  to  raise  the  tariff,  and 
"stood  over  the  treasury  night  and  day 
with  a  shotgun,"  to  use  his  own  expres- 
sion. If  he  could  not  hold  the  premiership, 
how  could  he  have  won  the  Governor- 
Generalship  ?  Mr.  Lighthall  assumes  that 
the  people  have  a  magic  power  of  electing 
the  best  men,  whereas  most  thinkers  are 
greatly  discouraged  at  the  failure  of  popu- 
lar government  to  bring  to  the  front  really 

499 


superior  men.     Such  men  rarely  have  the 
arts  that  are  most  useful  to  win  popular 
applause.     To  think  the  American  Presi- 
dents as  a  whole  form  a  roll  of  glory  is 
very  ingenuous,  but  will  not  bear  examina- 
tion.    Most  of  them  were  commonplace 
men,  and  some  were  worse.     Washington 
was,  of  course,  the  inevitable  choice  for 
first  President,  but   Clay  was  not  ideaLby 
any  means,  nor  was  Jackson.     Hamilton, 
the  ablest  man  of  his  time,  was  never 
President.       Buchanan  allowed  secession 
to  work  its  will  unchecked.     He  was  no 
good  at  all.     Mr.  Lighthall  enthuses  over 
McKinley,  as  "undaunted  and  forgiving 
in  death."     But  in  life  he  was  known  as 
"the  man  with  his  ear  to  the  ground,"  so 
that    he    might    promptly    follow    public 
opinion  instead  of  being  caught  with  any 
opinion  of  his  own.     Garfield  was  a  dark 
horse,  unknown  to  the  people  generally, 
and    merely    elected    as    a    compromise 
because  Grant  and  Sherman  after  repeated 
ballotings    found   each   too    powerful   to 
allow  either  to  get  the  necessary  majority. 
Roosevelt  attained  the  Presidency  only  by 
reason  of  McKinley's  assassination.     The 
politicians  thought  they  had  tucked  him 
away    safely    as    Vice-President.     It    is 
notorious  that  strong  candidates  generally 
fail  to  maintain  their  position  until  the 
elections.     They    antagonise    too    many 
interests,  and  thus  colourless  men  slip  into 
the  coveted  place. 

The  English  public  schools  develop  a 
high  tvpe  of  character  which  bears  glorious 
fruit  in  the  public  service,  and  it  is  doubt- 
ful if  by  any  electoral  methods  known  to 
man  such  good  material  could  be  secured 
as  by  the  English  system  of  appointing  her 
pro-consuls.  Most  Canadians  will  say 
"Let  well  alone."  Surely  we  do  not 
want  the  trail  of  our  ballot-box  scandals 


500 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


besmirching  the  purity  of  our  highest 
office.  "Blocks  of  five,"  "Business  is 
business,"  "Hug  the  machine,"  etc.,  etc., 
adnauseiim. 

Mr.  Lighthall  is  grieved  because  the 
Americans  think  we  are  "ruled"  by 
England  through  the  Governor-General; 
that  we  have  no  autonomous  status  of  our 
own.  But  surely  this  is  not  a  weighty 
argument,  for  the  opinion  of  people  so 
little  informed  on  the  matter  must  be  of 
small  consequence.  It  may  be  noted  that 
Americans  trade  with  us,  emigrate  to 
our  West,  and  become  naturahsed  British 
subjects,  and  as  tourists  love  our  country 
heartily,  and  enjoy  particularly  the  fact 
that  our  system  is  so  different  from  theirs. 

Mr.  Lighthall  deplores  that  the  Gover- 
nors-General are  invariably  members  of 
the  House  of  Lords.  "They  embody  a 
system  of  publicly  recognised  priWleges 
and  grades  of  social  precedence,  implying 
the  importation  also  of  a  system  of  social 
inferiority,  which  is  contrary  to  our  in- 
stitutions and  bad  for  our  people."  "It 
is  evident  from  many  signs,"  he  continues, 
"that  a  mimic  system,  based  upon  wealth, 
is  actually  making  headway  through  the 
Dominion  of  which  Rideau  Hall  is  the 
centre,  and  of  which  the  efifect  would  be 
to  gradually  erect  all  through  the  land  a 
reign  of  class  distinctions,  of  privileges 
and  monopolies,  ultimately  becoming  part 
of  our  government  as  well  as  of  our  society. 
In  Canada  this  can  only  mean  a  plutoc- 
racy; and  such  a  privileged  plutocracy, 
possessing  not  even  the  correctives  of  a 
strain  of  ancient  chivalr\'  and  histor}^, 
would  inevitably  bring  upon  us  the  evils 

of  revolution It  needs  a  corrective 

at  Rideau  Hall  in  place  of  encouragement 


and  a  model."  This  is  one  of  the  most 
astounding  and  confused  charges  against 
our  Governors- General  that  can  ever  be 
made  or  dreamed  of  and  must  do  lasting 
injury  to  Mr.  Lighthall's  reputation  as  a 
King's  Counsel.  WTiat  are  the  facts  ?  The 
Canadians  saw  that  the  United  States  after 
their  civil  war  embarked  on  rigid  protec- 
tion and  a  high  tariff,  and  in  spite  of  this 
have  flourished  by  reason  of  their  vast 
resources  and  untiring  devotion  to  busi- 
ness. The  Canadians,  therefore,  in  spite 
of  their  small  numbers  and  enormous 
frontier,  said:  "We,  also,  will  have  a 
high  tariff."  Therein  lay  the  origin  of 
our  privileged  plutocracy,  the  high  cost  of 
living,  and  the  constant  labour  troubles, 
all  inherent  to  a  system  of  artificial  favour- 
ing of  special  industries.  To  tn,^  to  lay  the 
blame  for  any  or  all  of  this  on  the  Gov- 
ernors-General is  as  wise  as  to  blame 
them  for  the  Fall  of  Man,  and  I  am 
amazed  that  such  stuff  should  appear  in 
The  Canadian  Magazine.*  The  proper 
place  for  such  drivel  is  Dorcas  Meetings, 
where  the  blameless  enthusiasts  make 
warm  clothing  for  tropical  heathen. 

A  final  charge  is  made  against  Rideau 
Hall  of  favouring  horse-racing  and  wine 
drinking.  But  I  have  exhausted  my 
indignation,  and  forbear  to  protest  against 
this  last  atrocity.  I  had  thought  that 
the  saying  "as  drunk  as  a  lord"  was 
coined  in  a  far  earlier  age.  and  that  in 
modem  England  temperance  was  obliga- 
tory on  gentlemen,  but  possibly  Mr. 
Lighthall  knows  better. 

*Editor's  Note — Perhaps  Mr.  Lighthall 
is  in  turn  amazed  that  Mr.  Deacon's  opinions 
should  be  published.  At  any  rate,  the  two 
writers  are  now  on  the  same  footing. 


Love's  Chains 


BY   E.    M,   YEOMAN 


Al /"ERE  't  not  for  thy  dear  eyes'  pure  light 
And  smiles  that  tenderly  beset  me, 

Oh,  sunk  into  my  native  night, 
I  could  forget  thee. 


WK  have  only  to  think  of  a  wild  mob 
in  front  of  Buckingham  Palace 
cheering  King  Edward  over  the  result 
of  an  election  and  of  the  King  appearing 
at  a  window  to  make  a  violent  party 
speech,  to  realise  the  difference  between 
constitutionalism  in  Britain  and  in  Ger- 
many. The  people  of  Berlin  by  congre- 
gating in  front  of  the  palace  emphasised 
the  point  that  a  number  of  the  electors, 
be  it  large  or  small,  regard  the  Emperor 
as  one  of  their  political  foes.  That  is  not 
a  healthy  condition  of  affairs.  If  Von 
Buelow's  appeal  to  the  electorate  had 
failed,  what  would  have  followed?  The 
Emperor  would  be  in  the  position  of  being, 
condemned  by  his  own  people. 

With  the  taste  of  victory  still  so  fresh  on 
his  lips  the  Emperor  is  in  all  probability 
not  much  troubled  about  academic  topics 
of  that  kind.  He  is,  indeed,  entitled  to 
e.xult.  He  made  an  appeal  to  the  patriotic 
instincts  of  his  subjects,  to  the  Pan-Ger- 
manic spirit,  and  the  answer  from  his 
point  of  view  has  been  most  satisfactory. 
His  SociaKst  foes  have  been  overthrown. 
Herr  Bebel  himself  acknowledged  that 
the  election  had  throw-n  his  party  back  to 
where  it  was  fifteen  years  ago.  It  is  true 
that  the  Socialists  represent  a  voting 
strength  much  greater  than  their  numbers 
in  the  Reichstag.  In  the  election  of  1903 
they  secured  seventy-nine  seats,  or  one- 
fifth  of  the  House,  but  the  votes  for  their 
candidates  w-ere  almost  a  third  of  the 
entire  vote  cast.  Now  they  appear  to  be 
reduced  to  forty-three  seats.  AH  of  their 
thirteen  nominees  in  Saxony  were  defeated. 
They  collided  with  national  sentiment 
and  have  been  bruised  in  the  impact. 

It  is  a  force  that  has  to  be  reckoned  with 
everywhere.  The  public  man  who  ignores 
it  cannot  go  very  far.  In  France  the 
Roman  See  is  realising  how  strong  it  is. 
There  is  undoubtedly  a  good  deal  of  the 

501 


free-thinking  spirit  in  France,  especially 
in  the  cities,  and  there  is  some  indifferent- 
ism  in  the  country,  but  not  more,  in  all 
probability,  than  in  other  countries. 
There  is  unquestionably  a  strong  rehgious 
impulse  among  the  simple-minded  com- 
mon people.  But  they  see  no  reason  why 
there  should  be  any  enmity  between  relig- 
ion and  Republican  institutions.  It  is  not 
at  all  likely  that  they  regard  the  former  as 
less  important  than  the  latter,  but  they 
merely  show  by  their  votes  that  they  will 
not  allow  that  there  should  be  any 
antagonism  between  the  tw^o.  The  church 
has  in  fact  collided  with  national  senti- 
ment and  it  is  getting  worsted  in  the  en- 
counter. We  had  a  taste  of  a  similar 
phenomenon  in  our  own  country.  The 
people  of  Quebec  recognised  in  a  son  of 
their  own  race  one  of  those  rare  and  fine 
characters  that  appear  once  in  a  while 
for  the  redemption  of  politics,  and  not- 
withstanding that  he  was  the  champion  of 
a  cause  which  earned  him  the  hostility  of 
the  hierarchy  of  his  church,  he  nevertheless 
gained  the  almost  soHd  suffrages  of  his 
people.  Race  pride  was  too  strong  to  be 
beaten  down  even  by  a  respected  clergy. 
The  facts  should  be  studied  by  statesmen 
everyw^here,  especially  in  Britain  with  its 
Irish  question  and  in  Germany  \\ith  its 
province  of  resentful  Poles. 

However  disposed  one  might  be  to  take 
the  British  side  in  what  is  known  as  the 
"Swettenham  incident,"  the  gentleman 
himself  has  made  it  very  difficult  to  do  s6. 
The  original  blunderer,  or  bounder,  was, 
of  course.  Admiral  Davis,  W'ho,  wliile  the 
■messenger  of  neighbourly  aid,  rendered 
his  friendly  offices  so  oppressive  as  to 
drive  the  Governor  to  the  ill-advised 
course  which  he  took.  It  is  absurd  to 
defend  a  course  which  has  had  to  be 
apc^logised  for,  and  unfortunately  that  is 
the  position  in  which  the  defenders  of  Sir 
Alexander  Swettenham  find  themselves. 
The  chief  newspaper  of  Jamaica  has  con- 


502 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


■V 


A   SECOND   SHOCK 

Kingston  suffers  from  a  second  outbreak  in  some  ways  worse 
than  the  first.  — MinneapoUs  Journal 


important  part  of  Mr. 
Root's  address  to  the  Ca- 
nadian Club  of  Ottawa 
was  his  frank  and  gener- 
ous testimony  to  the  prog- 
ress of  Canada,  and  his 
recognition  of  the  great 
part  it  is  bound  to  play- 
in  the  fortunes  of  North 
America.  The  substance 
of  the  speech  has  been 
read  by  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands of  Americans  and 
the  whole  of  it  in  scores 
of  United  States  news- 
paper offices,  where  public 
opinion  is  influenced  if 
not  formed.  The  result 
must  be  good.  The  Gov- 
ernor-General by  inviting 
Mr.  Root  to  visit  him  must 
be  regarded  as  a  publicity 
agent  on  a  very  large  scale. 


damned  the  Governor,  although  it  is 
evident  from  its  language  that  it  is  con- 
strained to  do  so  by  the  utter  indefensibil- 
ity of  his  conduct.  When  we  hear  a 
Colonial  Governor  described  as  "strong," 
we  generally  know  what  it  means.  He  is 
usually  a  personage  whose  creed  is  that 
the  people  over-seas  require  guardians, 
and  that  by  divine  ordering  there  has  been 
provided  a  governing  "clawss"  in  Eng- 
land who  just  fill  the  bill.  We  have  been 
happy  in  Canada  in  escaping  to  a  large 
extent  this  affliction. 

u 

While  the  Swettenham  incident  was  at 
its  height,  the  American  Secretary  of 
State,  or  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs,  as  he 
would  be  called  in  other  countries,  was 
at  Ottawa.  It  was  somewhat  untoward 
that  the  episode  should  have  cropped  up 
just  at  that  juncture,  but  it  does  not 
appear  to  have  marred  the  visit  of  the 
distinguished  public  man  whose  coming 
here  was  a  departure  in  the  relations 
between  the  two  great  powers  of  this 
continent.     We  must  think  that  the  most 


The  Transvaal  elections 
will  be    over   before  this 
reaches  the  reader,  so  that 
prophecies    need    not    be    indulged    in. 
There  will  be  a  feeling  that  mistakes  are 
being  made.     If  Britain  and  Boer  are  to 
get  together  in  South  Africa  it  must  be  by 
maintaining  an  attitude  of  magnanimity 
on  the  part  of  the  conqueror.     It  will  be 
urged  that  past  magnanimity  has  been 
misunderstood  and  interpreted  as  weak- 
ness, and  that  this  misinterpretation  was 
responsible  for  a  bloody  and  costly  war. 
The   world   has   to   deal,  however,  with 
things  as  they  are,  and  not  with  things  as- 
they  ought  to  be.     The  fact  is  that  if  the 
Boer  element  presences  a  soHd  front  it  will 
almost    certainly    dominate    the    colony. 
The  pohcy  of  endeavouring  to  join  the 
aims  of  the  British  people  of  the  Trans- 
vaal to  those  of  the  more  enlightened  and 
reconcileable  section  of  the  Dutch  people 
is    expedient   as    well   as    magnanimous. 
For  this  purpose  it  would  be  well  if  those 
prominently  connected  with  the  events  of 
the  past  five  or  six  years  would  refrain 
from  being  conspicuous  in  the  approach- 
ing   elections.     Such    is    not    the    case, 
however.      In  one  of  the  Pretoria  divisions 
the  candidate  of  the  British  party  is  Sir- 


CURRENT  EVENTS  ABROAD 


503 


Percy  Fitzpatrick,  the  well-known  author 
of  the  "Transvaal  from  Within."  By 
the  timely  publication  of  this  book  Sir 
Percy  undoubtedly  did  a  great  service  to 
Britain.  It  afforded  a  moral  sanction  for 
the  war,  which  it  was  highly  important 
that  it  should  have  in  view  of  the  fact  that 
the  good-will  of  the  whole  Empire  had  to 
be  gained,  and  a  belief  in  its  justice  and 
righteousness'promoted. 

V 

It  is  natural,  however,  that  the  very 
thing  which  commends  him  to  the  British 
party  makes  him  distasteful  to  the  burgh- 
ers. So  much  so  that  Sir  Richard  Solo- 
man  has  thrown  himself  into  the  field  as 
Sir  Percy's  antagonist.  Sir  Richard  is 
the  protagonist  of  those  who  believe  that 
an  attempt  should  be  made  to  fuse  the 
two  races  in  South  Africa.  The  proposal 
is  not  as  Utopian  as  at  first  glance  it  may 
seem  to  be.  There  is  not  such  marked 
differences  between  Briton  and  Boer  as 
to  make  such  a  consummation  impossible. 
Racially  they  are  branches  of  the  same 
stem.  The  ancestors  of 
the  Saxons  of  Kent  and 
Sussex  came  from  the  same 
river-mouths  as  nourished 
the  ancestors  of  the  Dutch 
farmers  of  South  Africa. 
Religion  is  often  an  im- 
pediment to  the  perfect 
fusion  of  two  peoples. 
Who  can  doubt  that  the 
Irishman's  religion  has 
been  more  potent  in  keep- 
ing him  apart  from  his 
English  neighbour  than 
either  his  race  or  his 
language  ?  This  severing 
distinction  has  but  very 
Httle  force  in  South  Africa. 
It  is  true  that  the  English 
Protestant  can  scarcely 
worship  in  a  church  where 
the  service  is  conducted  in 
a  language  which  he  does 
not  understand.  That, 
however,  is  but  a  tempor- 
ary bar.  The  Boer  learns 
English  very  easily,  and  as 
no  great  literature  is  em- 
bodied   in    the    Taal    he 


has  not  the  incentive  jtu  maintain 
his  language  that  the  French-Canadian, 
for  example,  has.  Just  as  Gaelic  can 
scarcely  be  kept  alive  in  Ireland  and 
Scotland  by  scholars  and  archaeological 
enthusiasts,  so  it  will  be  found  that  the 
Taal  will  retire  before  the  advance  of 
progress  and  modernity  in  South  Africa. 
Care  will  have  to  be  taken,  however,  that 
the  zeal  of  the  peoj)le  in  its  behalf  is  not 
aroused  by  attempts  to  proscribe  it. 
There  is  room  for  the  most  delicate 
.statesmanship  in  South  Africa,  and  there 
is  every  indication  that  Lord  Selbome, 
the  Governor,  was  a  particularly  happy 
choice.  He  seems  to  enjoy  the  confi- 
dence of  both  sections  of  the  people. 

An  inspiring  part  of  Mr.  Root's  speech 
to  the  Canadian  Club  at  Ottawa  was  his. 
allusion  to  the  ninety  years  of  peace  that 
has  subsisted  between  the  United  States 
and  Canada.  That  this  passage  struck 
a  responsive  chord  in  this  country  is 
evidenced  by  the  proposals  which  have 


THE   REAL   BIRD   OF   PEACE 


Secretary  Root  en  route  to  Canada,  from  telegraphic  de- 
scription. Can  our  "Lady  of  the  Snows"  fail  to  be  melted  by- 
such  devotion.?  —Minneapolis  Journal. 


504 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


followed  thai  the  centennial  of  peace  be 
celebrated  in  some  appropriate  way.  As 
the  idea  had  its  origin  in  the  mind  of  an 
American  it  would  be  right  and  fitting 
that  we  on  this  side  should  rather  follow 
than  lead  in  proposals  for  giving  it  prac- 
tical effect.  One  suggestion  has  come 
from  Detroit  that  the  holding  of  a  world's 
fair  there  would  be  a  magnificent  method 
of  marking  the  event.  As  the  nearest 
great  city  to  Canadian  soil,  the  proposal 
possesses  many  merits,  although  in  such 
a  big  affair  the  celebration  of  the  peace 
centennial  would  figure  but  as  an  incident. 
A  fair  called  the  Peace  Centennial  Fair 
would,  howe\'er,  undoubtedly  bring  to 
the  attention  of  the  peoples  of  the  old 
■^  world  the  fact  that  it  was  possible  for  two 
eager  nations  to  live  side  by  side  for  a 
hundred  years  in  competition  and  yet  in 
unbroken  amity.       ^ 

The  world  seems  to  be  growing  so  fast 
that  its  inhabitants  cannot  keep  up  with 
its  pace.  That  seems  a  paradox,  but 
when  we  witness  all  over  the  world  the 
inability  of  the  world's  money  to  measure 
and  handle  the  world's  wealth,  the  inabil- 
ity of  the  railways  to  transport  the 
products  and  commodities,  it  must  be 
admitted  that  it  is  a  parado.x  which  is  sup- 
ported by  fact.  Problems  of  the  most 
serious  kmd  have  arisen,  especially  in  the 
temperate  or  intemperate  north,  where 
the  means  of  transportation  have  been 
inadequate  to  keep  the  people  supplied 
with  that  indispensable  necessity,  fuel. 
It  is  not  as  if  the  railways  had  been 
standing  still.  They  all  report  enormous 
additions  to  their  rolling  stock,  but  the 
additions  have  been  quite  out-paced  by 
the  things  requiring  to  be  transported. 
Whatever  the  trouble  may  be,  it  is  ob- 
viously the  duty  of  the  generals  of  trans- 
portation to  get  themselves  in  a  position 
to  be  equal  to  what  is  required  of  them. 

n 

The  channel  tunnel  project  is  being 
revived  under  the  bland  influences  of  the 
entente  cordiale.  Strenuous  objections, 
however,  are  still  urged  against  it.  It 
would  be  madness,  say  these  British 
crit'cs,  to  abandon  that  position  of  isola- 
tion and  securitv  which  the  "  silver  streak  " 


aff"ords.  The  speculations  on  this  point 
and  on  the  possibility  of  an  attack  on 
Britain  by  Germany  are  all  based  on  the 
assumption  that  the  continental  powers 
are  capable  of  proceeding  to  war  without 
any  declaration  thereof.  This  way  of 
thinking  has  been  made  possible  by  the 
waspish  promptitude  of  Japan's  attack 
on  Russia.  It  must  be  remembered, 
however,  that  Japan  had  deUvered  an 
ultimatum  and  it  was  only  Russian  arro- 
gance which  was  surprised  when  an 
attack  followed  so  promptly.  No  nation 
could  afford  to  attack  another  without  a 
preliminary  quarrel  or  serious  difference 
of  opinion,  for  while  it  might  succeed  for 
the  time  being  it  would  in  time  come  to 
be  treated  to  a  dose  of  its  own  medicine. 
A  nation  which  suffered  from  such  an 
outrageous  disregard  of  international 
morals  would  bide  its  time  and  get  its 
revenge  at  the  unguarded  moment  which 
comes  to  every  country  in  its  history. 
The  suppositions  as  to  what  France  might 
do  with  a  channel  tunnel  to  aid  her  or 
Germany  by  means  of  a  secret  expedition, 
whose  first  blow  would  be  a  stunning  act 
of  war,  are  founded  on  such  improbable 
bases  as  to  be  incapable  of  bearing  in- 
spection. It  would  be  about  as  reason- 
able to  ask  nations  to  be  prepared  for  the 
interposition  of  earthquakes  on  the  day  of 
battle  as  to  be  prepared  for  the  eccentric 
contingencies  which  alarm  and  hysteria 
conjure  up  in  the  jingo  brain. 

u 

The  appointment  of  ^^Ir.  Bryce  as  am- 
bassador at  Washington  has  the  advantage 
of  being  as  agreeable  in  Washington  as 
in  London.  How  it  will  affect  Canada 
and  Newfoundland  interests  it  is  impos- 
sible to  foretell.  It  can  at  least  be  said 
that  Mr.  Bryce  is  more  familiar  with  the 
working  of  colonial  institutions  and  with 
our  particular  idiosyncracies  and  aspira- 
tions than  most  professional  diplomatists 
are.  He  will  undoubtedly  do  his  utmost 
to  square  any  proposed  settlement  with 
the  best  opinion  of  the  colony  affected. 
We  are  all  concerned  in  being  on  good 
terms  with  our  neighbours,  but  the  good 
terms  must  be  mutual,  and  they  cannot 
exist  on  our  side  if  the  cost  of  them  is  to 
be  eternal  surrenders,      j^j^^  ^_  £^^„ 


\^T^AN 


vSPHE-Rt 


THE  LITTLE  SISTER  OF  THE  PROPHET 

BY    MARJORIE   L.    C.    PICKTHALL 

"If  there  arise  among  you  a  prophet   or  a 
dreamer." — Deut.  xiii.,  1. 

I   HAVE  left  a  basket  of  dates 

In  the  cool,   dark    room    that    is    under 

the  vine, 
Some    curds   set    out   in    two   little    crimson 

plates, 
And  a  flask  of  the  amber  wine, 
And  cakes  most  cunningly  beaten 
Of  savoury  herbs  and  spice,  and  the  delicate 

wheaten 
Flour  that  is  best ; 
And  all  to  lighten  his  spirit  and  sweeten  his 

rest . 

This  morning  he  cried,  "Awake, 

•And  see  what  the  wonderful  grace  of  the 
Lord  hath  revealed!" 

And  we  ran  for  his  sake. 

But  'twas  only  the  dawn  outspread  o'er  our 
father's  field, 

And  the  house  of  the  potter  white  in  the  val- 
ley below. 

But  his  hands  were  upraised  to  the  east  and 
he  cried  to  us,  "So 

Ye  may  ponder  and  read 

The  strength  and  the  beauty  of  God  out- 
rolled  in  a  fiery  screed." 

Then  the  little  brown  mother  smiled, 

As  one  does  on  the    words   of   a    well-loved 

child; 
And  "Son,"  she  replied,  "have  the  oxen  been 

watered  and  fed  ? 
Fur  work  is  to  do,  though  the  skies  be  never 

so  red. 
And  already  the  first  sweet  hours  of  the  day 

are  spent." 
And  he  sighed  and  went. 

Will  he  come  from  the  byre, 
With  his  head  all  misty  with  dreams  and  his 
eyes  on  fire, 

9—505 


Shaking  us  all  with  the  weight  of  the  words 

of  his  [)assion? 
I  will  give  him  raisins  instead  of  dates, 
And  wreathe  young  leaves  on  the  little  red 

plates; 
I  will  put  on  my  new  head-tyre. 
And  braid  my  hair  in  a  comelier  fashion. 
Will  he  note?     Will  he  mind? 
Will  he  touch  my  cheek  as  he  used  to,  and 

laugh  and  be  kind  ? 

— The  Century. 


A  CANADIAN  POET 

rHE  above  poem,  written  by  ^liss 
Marjorie  Pickthall,  is  one  of  the 
most  original  j^roductions  of  a  young 
writer  who  has  written  nothing  common- 
place. For  several  years  Miss  Pick- 
thall's  work  has  been  appearing  in  Cana- 
dian publications  and  in  some  of  the  best 
New  York  magazines.  ''Genius"  is  a 
big  word  which  should  be  used  with 
reverence.  But  whatever  the  mysterious 
quality  may  be,  it  pervades  the  stanzas 
of  this  simple  yet  m^'stic  poem  which  has 
recently  attracted  so  much  notice  from 
the  Canadian  press.  Miss  Pickthall  was 
bom  in  England,  but  came  to  Canada  at 
such  an  early  age  that  she  may  be  fairly 
claimed  as  one  of  our  own  wTiters.  She 
has-  an  unusual  sense  of  colour  and 
fragrance,  with  an  imagination  strongly 
in  sympathy  with  Oriental  atmosphere 
and  phrase.  Her  short  stories  have 
become  familiar  to  most  Canadian  readers, 
but  she  is  fundamentally  a  poet,  and  her 
fiction  is  infused  with  the  same  delicate 
appreciation  of  the  subtle  and  the  symbolic 
that  makes  her  verse  a  real  contribution 
to  our  poetic  Hterature.  Miss  Pickthall 
is  but  a  young  ^\Titer  and  has  before  her, 
we  trust,  a  career  of  literary  distinction. 


oO() 


THE    CAXADL\N    MAGAZINE 


However,  should  she  write  nothing  more, 
"The  Little  Sister  of  the  Prophet"  would 
give  her  a  place  in  any  anthology  of 
Canadian  poems. 

X3 

THE  MAGAZINE  CHILD 

rHOSE  who  are  growing  tired  of  such 
pictures  as  "Hear  My  Dollies' 
Prayer"  \\nll  appreciate  an  article  in  the 
Atlantic  Monthly  by  one  who  has  evidently 
suffered  much  from  the  youthful  epidemic 
which  is  now  afflicting  certain  magazines, 
The  victim  of  juvenile  literature  wails  thus : 

"Surely,  a  potent  cause  of  the  recent  pop- 
ularity of  the  juvenile  is  its  felicitous  lending 
of  itself"  to  illustration.  How  familiar  we 
have  all  become  with  the  shapeless-legged 
little  girl  in  wrinkled  stockings  and  outgrown 
frock,  her  lanky  hair  surmounted  by  a  splash- 
ing bow,  and  with  her  straight -backed  little 
brother  with  his  Buster  Brown  suit  and  his 
Dutch  cut — two  trade-marks  of  the  modern 
boy.  The  types  are  attractive  and  they  are 
often  remarkably  well  drawn,  both  by  the 
descriptive  and  the  illustrative  pen,  but  the 
time  has  come  when  we  have  been  served 
with  child  to  repletion.  We  are  heartily  sick 
of  the  child  of  the  slum  and  the  child  of  for- 
tune, of  the  Jewish  child  and  the  Bowery 
child,  of  the  morbid,  misunderstood  child,  and 
the  sentimental,  neglected  child,  of  the  tom- 
boy and  the  prig,  the  natural  and  the  un- 
natural child.  In  our  state  of  surfeit  we  feel 
tempted  to  say  with  Lamb  when  asked  how 
he  liked  children,  'I  like  them  fried.' 

People  who  enjoy  reading  about  children 
derive  a  kindred  pleasure  to  that  afforded  by 
the  weather  as  a  perennially  popular  subject 
of  conversation.  Childhood  is  a  universal 
experience,  and  we  are  all  suflficient  egotists 
to  enjoy  reading  about  our  dead  selves,  to 
nod  our  gray  heads  and  say:  "Yes,  that  is 
true,  I  was  like  that ;  for,  though  we  all  have 
not  children  of  our  own,  we  all  have  been 
children  ourselves." 

tr 

WHAT  IS  A  lady:'    :3  2  ^ -' 

"POR  some  years  the  word  "lady"  has 
*■  not  been  in  ,L,ood  odour.  It  has  been 
"soiled  by  all  ignoble  use"  until  it  has 
become  worse  than  meaningless — almost 
as  shoddy  as  the  adjectives  genteel, 
stylish  and  "high-toned."  But  the  word 
has  a  noble  origin  and  to  many  it  is  matter 
for  regrgt  that  it  should  have  been  so  ill- 
treated. 

In  an  article  appearing  in  a  recent 
issue  of  the  New  York  Times,  there  is  an 


amusing  account  of  how  a  reporter  at- 
tempted to  get  a  definition  of  the  word. 
All  the  New  York  hotels  and  restaiu-ants 
admit  that  they  draw  certain  hnes  about 
women  who  are  not  escorted  after  certain 
hours  of  the  evening.  All  are  agreed  that 
a  "lady"  can  be  served,  but  no  two  agree 
as  to  what  a  "lady"  is.  The  Waldorf- 
Astoria  lately  published  this  notice: 
"Ladies  \\'ithout  escort  will  be  served  in 
the  restaurant  hereafter  at  any  hour." 
The  management  of  the  Waldorf  said  to 
the  inquiring  reporter: 

"It  has  always  been  a  rule  of  this  house 
to  entertain  ladies — real  ladies." 

"But  what  is  a  lady?  Is  it  determined 
by  dress,  or  manner,  or  accent?"  asked 
the  reporter. 

"Why,  my  dear  sir — why,  a  lady,  my 
good  fellow,  is  a — um — lady,  hey?" 

At  Delmonico's  the  clerk  said:  "Well, 
a  lady  is  one  you  can  tell  easily.  You  can 
tell  by  the  way  she  sits,  by  the  way  she 
orders,  by  the  way — Oh,  man,  a  lady, 
is  a  lady,  don't  you  see?" 

Other  managers  were  equally  emphatic 
and  equally  vague.  It  remained  for  one 
known  as  "Tom  Shanleye"  to  declare: 
"Well,  far  be  it  from  any  man  to  discuss 
such  a  delicate  subject.  But  when  a 
lady  comes  in  here,  it  is  not  for  an  Irish- 
man to  treat  her  otherwise." 

U 

THE  MENDELSSOHN  CHOIR 

BARRELS  of  ink  and  reams  of  paper 
have  been  used  during  the  last 
month  to  describe  the  cycle  of  concerts 
given  by  the  Mendelssohn  Choir  in  Massey 
Hall,  Toronto.  But  not  a  word  too  much 
has  been  said  in  praise  of  the  organisation 
over  which  Mr.  A.  S.  Vogtwneldsthe  baton. 
It  way  be  well  to  call  attention  to  the  fact 
that  women  may  claim  more  than  a  small 
share  in  the  triumph  of  that  glorious 
Wednesday  night  when  Beethoven's 
"Choral  S\Tnphony"  wa^  rendered  by 
Canada's  champion  choir,  conducted  by 
Mr.  Emil  Paur,  leader  of  the  Pittsburg 
Orchestra.  The  supreme  difficulty  in 
Beethoven's  greatest  production  is  the 
prolonged  passage  on  "A"  natural, 
extending  for  thirteen  bars,  nine  of  which 
are  a  sustained  note.  Several  conductors 
have  deliberately  lowered  the  passage  for 


WOMAN'S   SPHERE 


507 


the  soprano  voices.  But  the  sopranos,  as 
trained  by  Mr.  Vogt,  showed  themselves 
fully  equal  to  the  exhausting  demands  of 
the  great  "Finale"  and  justified  the 
ambition  and  labour  of  the  conductor.  It 
was  the  second  occasion  of  the  produc- 
tion of  the  "Choral  Symphony"  and, 
while  all  who  took  part  in  the  great  event 
had  reason  to  be  proud  of  the  end  that 
crowned  the  work,  the  "silvery  sopranos" 
had  climbed  above  the  rest.  A  writer  in 
the  Toronto  News  did  journalistic  justice 
to  the  girls  who  stayed  so  nobly  with  "A" 
natural: 

"The  Chorus  Maid,  she  dresses  in  white. 
Dear,  dear,  how  her  heart  flutters,  though 
she  denies  it  the  moment  you  speak  of  such  a 
thing !  There  she  stands,  from  her  toes  to 
her  well-dressed  hair  like  a  violin  string 
thrilling  with  music.  Obedient  eyes  on  the 
conductor,  straight  as  a  dart,  chin  up,  mouth 
ready,  well-disciplined  she  stands,  knowing 
how  and  yet  anxious.  Oh,  suppose  she 
should  make  a  mistake !  Then  she  would  die 
on  the  spot !  Nobody  would  forgive  her ! 
She  sings  with  her  might,  with  her  heart, 
with  her  soul.  Music  has  charmed  her. 
There  she  stands,  eager  to  work,  eager  to  be 
musically  good,  a  devout  little  priestess 
laying  her  gift  on  the  altar;  but  a  woman, 
too,  conscious  of  a  thousand  thoughts,  re- 
membrances, emotions  tugging  at  her  warm 
woman's  heart.  The  Chorus  Maid,  she 
dresses  in  white,  and  she  is  a  dear  girl  from 
Toronto." 

rr 

THE  OTTAWA  COMPETITION 

T^HE  competition  held  in  Ottawa  for 
^  the  trophies  offered  bv  His  Excel- 
lency to  amateur  musicians  and  actors 
was  of  great  interest  to  Canadians  of  all 
classes,  for  even  those  who  pav  little  atten- 
tion to  concerts  or  plays  are  concerned 
in  local  aspirations.  It  is  necessary  to 
hold  the  competition  in  a  winter  month, 
yet  that  very  circumstance  makes  it  ex- 
tremely difficult  for  Edmonton,  Regina 
or  Victoria  to  send  a  company  during  the 
busy  season.  The  success  of  the  Winni- 
peg Dramatic  Club  which  carried  oft'  one 
of  the  trophies  shows  the  good  work  being 
done  in  the  west — or  should  we  sav  the 
middle?  Additional  interest  attached  to 
the  Winnipeg  performance,  owing  to  the 
fact  that  the  play,  "The  Release  of  Allan 
Danvers,"  was  written  by  three  of  the 
actors.  Miss  Daisy  Crawley,  the  leading 
lady,  divided  honours  witli   "Mr.   Ernest 


MISS    DAISY    CR.\WLEV 

Leading  lady  in  the  Winnipeg  troupe,  pla>-ing  "The 

Release  of  Allan  Danvers,"  which  won  the 

dratnatic  trophy  in  the  competition 

at  Ottawa 


Beaufort  in  the  spirited  presentation  of  the 
winning  drama.  The  Hamilton  plavers 
did  good  work,  ^liss  Carrie  Crerar,  as 
Kitfy  Clive,  upholding  her  reputation  as 
the  best  amateur  actress  in  Ontario. 

The  Quebec  Symphony  Orchestra; 
under  Mr.  Joseph  Vezina,  won  the  musi- 
cal trophy,  a  victory  which  brought  hearty 
congratulations  to  an  able  conductor.  The 
competition  has  exerted  a  stimulating 
effect  on  amateur  efforts  throughout  the 
country.  The  trophies  will  be  the  object 
of  annual  competition. 

A  DECIDED  NUISANCE 
TOURING  the  last  month  there  has 
^  been  a  nauseating  trial  of  a  million- 
aire degenerate  in  the  city  of  New  York. 
What  Canadian  papers  had  to  do  ^\-ith  the 
matter  is  not  evident,  even  if  "the  murder- 
er belongs  to  an  over- wealthy  family  which 
among  other  questionable  possessions  has 
acquired  by  fair  purchase  in  the  open 
market     a     second-rate     English     title.'' 


508 


IHE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


KING    EDWARD   AND    HIS   GRANDSON,    CROWN 
PRINCE   OLAF    OF    NORWAY 

But  for  a  fortnight  it  was  almost  impossible 
to  pick  up  a  Canadian  daily  newspaper 
without  finding  on  the  front  page  a 
column  or  two  about  this  unsavoury  affair. 
It  was  not  necessary  to  read  the  aforesaid 
stuff,  but  the  question  naturally  arose: 
Why  should  it  be  published,  so  that  ever}- 
school-girl  in  the  land  had  the  gross 
details  of  the  case  thrust  upon  her  notice  ? 
Harrowing  wood-cuts  of  the  notorious 
women  with  their  chiffon  veils,  and 
maudlin  remarks  about  the  "hero,"  con- 
fronted one  in  every  book-store.  There 
is  no  reason  for  such  publication,  except 
a  desire  to  pander  to  the  lowest  elements 
in  the  community.  If  any  Canadian  daily 
had  possessed  the  courage  to  keep  every 
detail  out  of  its  columns,  such  a  policy 
would  have  ultimately  "paid." 

We  have  troubles  enough  in  our  own 
country  to  fill  the  papers,  without  borrow- 
ing our  neighbour's  atrocities.  Political 
quarrels  and  municipal  tempests  are  all 
verv  well,  but  we  do  not  care  for  New^ 
York  horrors.  While  some  of  the  Toronto 
papers    observed   a    decent    restraint  \'m 


the  matter  of  the  sensational  trial,  others 
were  decidedly  offensive,  if  one  may  judge 
from  general  comment. 

The  majority  of  Canadian  women  are 
readers  of  the  newspaper,  and  they  exert 
no  small  influence  in  determining  what 
is  to  go  into  its  columns.  If  they  insist 
that  loathsome  elaboration  of  reports  of 
crime  be  sternly  kept  out,  the  editors  will 
not  be  slow  to  notice  wherein  they  have 
offended.  ^ 

.M.\RIE  AND  THE  SUFFRAGETTES 

I T  would  be  a  dull  world  without  Miss 
-*■  Corelli.  Just  as  things  seem  to  be 
.settling  down  and  the  house  is  all  nice 
and  quiet,  she  begins  to  scold  like  a  Chi- 
nese gong  about  the  Church,  or  the  World, 
or  the  bold,  bad  photographers  who  in- 
sist on  taking  her  picture,  and  there  is  no 
more  rest  for  the  wicked.  Now  she  has 
fallen  foul  of  the  suffragists,  and  these 
aggressive  sisters  wnU,  no  doubt,  hit  back. 
^^iss  Corelli  says  that  women  should  not 
vote.  They  are  unfit  to,  because,  for- 
sooth, they  use  paint,  powder  and  false 
hair.  AH  these  devices  show  that  woman 
is  not  deserving  of  the  franchise,  being 
vain,* frivolous,  and  unequal  to  the  duties 
of  citizenship. 

Reall}'  we  should  disUke  tp  trust  the  fair 
novelist  with  a  vote.  She  is  about  as 
illogical  a  specimen  of  the  scribbling  tribe 
as  one  meets  in  a  fortnight's  reading. 
What  have  paint,  powder,  and  false  hair 
to  do  with  votes?  There  are  respectable 
elderly  gentlemen  who  have  taken  to 
wearing  wigs.  Are  their  pow^ers  of  polit- 
ical discrimination  impaired  .  thereby? 
A  woman  has  a  perfect  right  to  repair  the 
ravages  of  time,  so  long  as  she  does  so  in 
a  discreet  manner.  A  powdered  nose  is 
much  fairer  than  one  that  shines.  As  for 
paint,  whatever  the  women  of  England 
may  do,  it  may  be  safely  said  that,  on  this 
continent,  rouge  is  considered  vulgar  and 
third-rate.  "Switches"  are  surely  no 
indication  of  over-weening  vanity,  rather 
the  heroic  endeavour  to  cope  with  that 
arch-enemy.  Time.  But  all  this  has 
nothing  to  do  with  the  franchise,  which 
would  be  unexercised  if  it  were  left  to 
celestial  creatures  instead  of  being  bestow 
ed  on  those  who  are  a  little  "lower  than 
the  angels."  Jean  Graham 


^^t^^ihk'ih 


/irmmmMfwmm 


-^■^^IJM 


THfe^EDI-TC^ 


^ 


'w wi- 


AN  ADVANCE   IN  CIVILISATION 

CIR  WILFRID  LAURIER  took  oc- 
^--^  casion  recently  in  Parliament  to  say: 
"We  never  can  conceive  of  war  between 
us  (Canada  and  the  United  States)  or  of 
war  between  Great  Britain  and  the  United 
States.  We  mean  to  settle  all  our  diffi- 
culties with  that  nation  by  peaceful  means, 
by  diplomatic  action,  by  negotiation,  but 
never  by  war."  He  was  referring  to  the 
dispute  between  Newfoundland  and  the 
United  States  over  the  Atlantic  fisheries, 
in  which  Canada  is  indirectly  concerned. 
It  is  to  be  hoped  that  every  Canadian  who 
has  or  will  read  that  utterance  of  the 
Prime  Minister's  will  echo  and  re-echo 
the  sentiment  of  it.  We  must  learn  to 
set  the  thought  of  war  aside,  to  nurse  the 
memories  of  it  only  as  interesting  relics,  as 
antiquated  means  of  attainment  that  should 
be  nolonger  recognised  or  practised  among 
nations  that  think  they  are  in  the  van- 
guard of  civilisation.  Sir  Wilfrid's  words 
should  not  apply  only  to  the  United 
States;  they  should  apply  uath  equal  cer- 
tainty to  every  other  country  and  to  all 
countries.  War  is  in  its  best  light  but 
a  terrible  evidence  of  barbarism.  WTiat 
would  the  people  of  Canada  think,  and 
in  particular,  what  would  the  peoples  of 
all  other  countries  think,  if  the  King's 
Ministers  at  Ottawa  were  to  settle  their 
differences  by  brute  force  on  the  open 
spaces  of  Parliament  hill?  Or,  even 
worse,  what  would  they  think  were  the 
Ministers  to  hire  other  persons  to  do  the 
fighting  for  them?  And  yet  that  is  what 
even  international  warfare  really  amounts 
to.  But  men  of  culture,  of  refinement, 
of  decency,  of  the  higher  orders  of 
civilisation,  do  not  jump  to  arms  in 
the   settlement   of   their'private   disputes. 

509 


That  distinction  is  now  confined  largely 
to  types  of  humanity  such  as  wharf  rats 
and  lumber  jacks.  Does  not  the  stand- 
ard of  civilisation  that  is  expected  of 
the  individual  apply  also  to  the  nation? 
Centuries  ago,  in  what  are  now  regarded 
as  civilised  countries,  the  leaders  of  the 
people  were  men  of  might  and  prowess  in 
battle.  Sovereigns  were  also  warriors. 
To-day  the  leaders  are  men  of  brain,  in 
contradistinction  from  men  of  bone  and  ■ 
sinew.  But  the  leaders  do  not  always 
confine  their  arguments  to  reason  and 
intellectual  persuasion.  Nevertheless,  in- 
tellect is  overcoming  muscle,  even  if  it 
has  not  yet  wholly  overcome.  To  wholly 
overcome  must  be  the  glory  of  future  states- 
men ;  it  should  be  the  glory  of  statesmen 
now.  The  career  of  Sir  Wilfrid  Laurier 
is  an  outstanding  instance  of  this  anti- 
war tendency.  But  that  is  not  enough, 
for  if  in  the  judgment  of  posterity  the 
Canada  of  the  twentieth  centur}'  is  to 
stand  out  from  the  barbaric  ages,  we,  the 
people,  must  give  silence  to  jingoism,  and 
lend  no  ear  to  militarv  enthusiasm. 


A   PEEP   INTO  THE    KINGSTON 
DISASTER 

\T /HATEVER  justice  or  propriety  there 
*  *  was  in  the  exchange  of  courtesies 
between  Governor  Swettenham  and  Ad- 
miral Davis,  there  is  good  reason  to  beHeve 
that  the  representative  of  the  British 
Crown  failed  to  properly  appreciate  the 
whole  situation.  Canadians  who  went 
through  the  disaster  say  that  he  did  fail. 
It  must  be  granted,  however,  that  it  was 
a  very  trying  ordeal,  but  while  a  man  can 
be  excused  of  writing  an  undiplomatic 
letter,  he  can  scarcely  be  allowed  to  go 
without  honest  criticism  when  he  openly 
minimises   the   facts  and   endeavours   to 


510 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


^^■A^-.  'r:^.,j>^\ 


NEGROES    LOOTING    AT    A    FACTORY    AFTER    THE    EARTHQUAKE    AT   KINGSTON 
Photograph,  Undei~uood  &  Underwood,  .V.  1'. 


spread  misleading  information.  Gover- 
nor Swettenham  made  an  official  state- 
ment that  there  had  been  no  looting. 
Messrs.  Underwood  &  Underwood,  of 
New  York,  say  that  the  photograph  re- 
produced herewith  was  taken  before  that 
statement  was  issued.  Xo  matter  when 
the  photograph  was  taken,  no  person  who 
examines  it  can  fail  to  see  that  looting 
was  carried  on.  After  all,  it  is  a  small 
incident  of  the  disaster,  but  why  should  the 
Governor  try  to  cover  it  up?  Looting  is 
not  an  especial  weakness  of  the  negro.  It 
was  practised  by  whites  at  San  Francisco, 
and  undoubtedly  would  be  again  by  some 
whites  were  the  same  opportunity  afforded 
in  any  part  of  the  world.  Governor 
Swettenham  should  have  recognised  the 
'looting  and  treated  it  as  such. 

There  is  a  lesson  in  this  for  Canadians. 
We  should  ever  be  ready  to  acknowledge 
the  weaknesses  of  the  Dominion  and  of 
the  Empire.  But  one  of  our  greatest 
weaknesses  is  our  failure  to  acknowledge 
them.  If  we  have  cold  winters,  admit  the 
fact.  If  there  should  be  unrest  among 
the  working  class,  do  not  deny  it.  If  our 
legal  processes  fail  to  obtain  justice,  let 
the  truth  be  known.     Above  all,  if  our 


sympathies  be  prejudiced  or  unintelligent 
and  our  national  tendencies  downward, 
let  us  raise  the  fact  high  and  grapple  with  it. 

n 

MORE  ANTI-CONFEDERATES 

THE  correction  contributed  by  Senator 
W.  Ross  in  The  Canadian  Mag- 
azinf:  of  January  regarding  a  previous 
statement  about  the  death  of  Hon.  Alfred 
Jones  having  removed  the  last  of  the 
Nova  Scotia  Anti-Confederates,  is  in 
turn  a  subject  for  correction  in  letters  by 
Judge  A.  W.  Savary  of  Annapolis  Royal, 
X.S.,  and  Dr.  H.  Cameron  of  Mabou, 
N'.S.     Judge  Savar}'  -uTites: 

"Permit  me  to  make  a  correction  of  the 
correction  of  Hon.  Senator  Ross  in  your 
January  number.  While  claiming  rightly 
that  the  late  Governor  Jones  was  not  the 
last  survivor  of  the  Nova  Scotia  Anti-Con- 
federates, and  limiting  the  application  of 
the  term  "Anti-Confederate"  to  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Provincial  Parliament  who 
voted  against  union  with  Canada  when  it 
was  finally  carried  in  that  House,  he  erron- 
eously includes  Samuel  Macdonnell,  Inspec- 
tor of  Customs  for  Cape  Breton,  among 
them,  and  you  produce  Mr.  Macdonnell's 
portrait  as  one  of  the  three  surviving  Anti- 
Confederates  of  that  House.  The  fact  is 
that  Mr.  Macdonnell  voted  in  favour  of  Un- 


J 


AT    THE    FRONT    WINDOW 


511 


ion  on  that  occasion,  and  was  not  an  Anti- 
Confederate  at  all,  and  in  the  excitement 
that  followed  was  defeated  by  a  majority 
of  about  two  to  one  by  Dr.  Hugh  Cameron 
at  tlie  first  Dominion  elections  in  1807.  The 
doctor  is  still  living  and  active,  and  is  the 
yoimgest  of  the  survivors  of  the  Anti-Con- 
federate members  of  the  first  Parliament, 
the  other  since  Governor  Jones'  death  be- 
ing Hon.  W.  H.  Ray,  Senator  Ross  and 
myself.  Senator  Ross  says:  "We  were  by 
no  means  opposed  to  the  union  of  the  Prov- 
inces, but  to  forcing  the  measure  on  the 
people  without  an  appeal  to  them."  With 
such  views  it  is  diflicult  to  see  the  consist- 
ency of  a  policy  oi  repeal.  Personally  I 
was  opposed  to  the  constitutional  terms  of 
the  Union,  believing  in  a  central  Parliament 
with  limited  and  delegated  powers,  leaving 
the  local  ParHament  all  the  authority  pos- 
sible, as  in  the  later  case  of  Australia,  and 
I  opposed  it  on  that  basis  only  among  the 
electors,  an  objection  on  which  many  ojnn- 
ions  changed  entirely  in  later  years.  It  is 
the  constitutional  right  of  a  member  to 
think  for  and  decide  for  himself  what  is  best 
for  his  constituents,  and  I  could  not  fail  to 
understand  that  in  not  appealing  to  the 
people  on  the  subject  serious  difficulties 
and  complications  were  avoided,  as  injuri- 
ous as  the  exasperation  that  followed. 
"We  owe  the  rascals  a  good  licking,  and  it 
was  just  the  chance  to  give  it  to  them,"  I 
was  told  was  said  by  a  prominent  popular 
leader  to  mv  informant,  an  old  Liberal  who 
supported  Confederation.  A  spirit  of  this 
kind     would     have     defeated     Confederation 


judge  a.  \v.  savary,  a  surviving  anti- 
coxfederate 

as  siu-ely  as  the  mode  of  carrying  it  in  Nova 
Scotia  intensified  the  opposition  to  it." 

Dr.  Cameron,  writing  from  Mabou, 
Nova  Scotia,  says  that  Samuel  Macdonnell 
voted  for  the  Union  and  declared  that 

"a  union  of  some  sort  we  must  have." 

He  says  also: 

"Before  my  letter  to  the  Casket  in  1866 
was  published,  the  new  party  lines  in  Nova 
Scotia  were  termed  Unionists  and  Anti- 
Unionists.  But  my  controversy  with  the 
Casket  seemed  to  cause  a  change  in  politi- 
cal nomenclature  to  Confederate  and 
Anti-Confederate,  an  Americanism  which 
I  imported  from  the  United  States  dur- 
ing the  American  war.  At  all  events,  I 
never  heard  the  names  previously  applied 
to  the  Unionists  and  Anti-Unionists  of 
Nova  Scotia.  However,  you  may  have 
some  evidence  on  this  point  to  show 
that  "Anti-Confederates"  received  that 
name  before  my  letters  to  the  Casket 
were  published,  from  Feb.  10th  until  April 
3rd,   1866."  ^ 


T 


A  PROPOSED  NATIONAL  HYMN 
HE    Mendelssohn    choir    at    their 


DR.    H.    CAMERON,    A    SURVIVING    ANTI- 
CONFEDERATE 


last  concert  of  the  first  series  at 
Toronto  sang  a  translation  of  ''O  Ca- 
nada" (Le  Chant  National),  a  French- 
Canadian  air  composed  by  Cahxte 
Lavallee.  with  words  by  Judge 
Routhier.     They    made    .^^o    profound 


sn 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


i^-F- 


"SEEMS   IF" 

The  Shipper — "Now  it  does  seem  to  me  that  if  our  friend, 
the  giant,  did  not  have  to  carry  so  much  water  he  could  carr>- 
more  freight."  — Minneapolis  Journal. 


an  impression  on  the  great  audience, 
and  the  applause  was  so  prolonged  and 
so  enthusiastic,  that  the  choir  sang  the 
piece  a  second  time.  Sung  by  so  large 
and  so  well-equipped  a  chorus,  accom- 
panied by  an  organisation  such  as  the 
Pittsburg  Orchestra,  the  anthem  was 
heard  at  the  ver\-  height  of  its  glor}-. 

A  suggestion  has  been  made  that  the 
Government  authorise  "O  Canada"  as 
a  National  Hymn.  It  would  be  a  fortu- 
nate thing,  indeed,  if  it  could  be  so  author- 
ised, for  it  would  bring  the  two  leading 
races  of  the  Dominion  into  closer  s\Tn- 
pathy  with  each  other,  and  there  is  no 
doubt  that  the  French-Canadians  would 
greatly  appreciate  the  compliment.  We, 
the  English-speaking  Canadians,  need 
have  no  misgiving  about  adopting  a  hymn 
that  first  found  utterance  in  a  language 
other  than  ours.     The  French-Canadians 


are,  lirst  and  foremost, 
Canadians.  The}'  refer  to 
themselves  as"  Canadiens'* 
and  to  us  as "Les  Anglais." 
Their  Canadianism  breaks 
forth  in  their  national  airs. 
It  is  a  dehght  to  sail  down 
the  St.  Lawrence,  with 
picturesque  whitewashed 
hamlets  on  either  shore, 
and  hear  at  twilight,  from 
a  group  on  the  forward 
deck,  the  inspiring  strains 
of  "O  Canada,  man  pays 
mes  amours,''''  *'0  Can- 
ada,'''' "En  Roulant  ma 
boule," or "Allouette.''  "O 
Canada,  mon  pays,  mes 
amours^'  is  perhaps  more 
popular  than  "  O  Canada." 
It  is  at  least  more  easily 
sung.  Students  of  Laval 
University  love  to  sing  it 
whenever  an  occasion  is 
afforded.  But  "O  Can- 
ada" is  perhaps  a  more 
dignified  composition. 
The  translation  of  the 
words  into  EngHsh  loses 
some  of  their  forcefulness,  and  of  course 
the  original  phraseologv'  is  necessarily 
changed.  The  translation  sung  by  the 
Mendelssohn  Choir  is  as  follows: 

O  Canada,  our  fathers'  land  of  old, 

Thy  brow  is  crowned  with  leaves  of  red  and 

gold: 
Beneath  the  shade  of  the  Holy  Cross, 
Thy  children  own  their  birth : 
No  stains  their  glorious  annals  gloss. 
Since  valour  shields  thy  hearth. 
Almighty  God,  on  Thee  we  call — - 
Defend    our    rights,    forefend    this    nations' 

thrall. 

Altar  and  throne  demand  our  sacred  love, 
And  mankind  to  us  shall  ever  brothers  prove. 
O  King  of  Kings,  with  Thy  mighty  breath 
All  our  sons  do  Thou  inspire;  ^— 

May  no  craven  terror  of  life  or  death 
E'er  damp  the  patriot's  fire. 
Our  mighty  call  loudly  shall  ring, 
.A.S  in  the  days  of  old,  "For  Christ  and  the 
King'" 


A  LITERARY  OPPORTUNITY 

"\ll/E  have  again  of  interest  this  month 
'  '  several  new  vohimes  by  Canadian 
authors.  Verse  predominates,  verse,  too, 
of  very  good  order.  There  is  a  growing 
tendency  among  those  wlio  produce 
verse  in  Canada  to  get  their  work  to- 
gether and  present  it  in  book  form.  It 
is  not  surprising  that  most  of  these  con- 
tributions deal  with  nature  or  are  of  a 
sombre  character,  treating  rather  of  the 
struggles  and  perplexities  of  hfe  than  of 
the  works  of  surpassing  grandeur  and 
significance  that  lie  on  every  side  and 
the  things  of  gladness  and  heroism  that 
are  crowding  in  upon  us  to  make  the 
heart  glad  and  the  day  bright.  Among 
the  great  works  are  the  opening  up 
of  mines,  the  subjection  of  forests,  the 
peopling  of  the  west,  and  many  other 
things  equally  suggestive.  Then  why 
not  give  us  the  picturesque  and  roman- 
tic aspects  of  these  things,  instead  of 
always  singing  about  the  pangs  of  the 
inner  conscience,  the  thraldom  of  love, 
the  beauties  of  the  sunset,  and  personi- 
fying Rest  and  Sleep  and  Life  and 
Death?  There  is  an  excellent  field  in 
Canada  of  new  and  unhackneyed  sub- 
jects, and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  those 
who  wish  to  write  in  this  country  will 
simply  look  around  them  instead  of  phil- 
osophising abstrusely  behind  closed  doors. 

u 

NEW  NOTES  FROM  THE  \\'EST 

THE  west  promises  for  us  a  new  strain 
in  the  music  of  verse,  and  alreody 
there  are  evidences  of  fulfilment.  We 
have  "Lyrics  from  the  West,"  by  C.  F. 
G.  Conybeare,  just  recently  pubhshed 
by  William  Briggs,  Toronto.  Even  in 
this  volume,  which  contains  many  at- 
tractive pages,  the  majority  of  the  num 

513 


bers  are  not  "of  the  soil."  The  author, 
however,  seems  to  have  appreciated  the 
opportunity,  and  he  has  given  us  several 
praiseworthy  poems.  "Indian  Sunset" 
is  perhaps  the  most  noteworthy.  It 
might  also  be  called  "The  Passing  of 
the  Redman."  "A  Song  of  Wide  Spaces  " 
likewise  breaks  away  from  the  beaten 
path,  but  as  the  pages  are  turned  over 
one  might  ask,  What  connection  v.ith 
the  west  have  poems  entitled  "Bel- 
shazzar's  Feast,"  "Mafeking,"  "The 
Cry  of  the  Uitlander,"  or  "Diana?" 
Attention  is  called  to  these  selections, 
not  at  all  as  a  reflection  on  their  merit, 
but  simply  to  point  out  a  general  tend- 
ency. Mr.  Conybeare  has  considerable 
poetical  instinct,  and  his  volume  is  a 
good  contribution  to  current  literature. 
To  give  an  idea  of  his  skill,  a  little  poem 
entitled  "Gazing  Seaward"  might  be 
reproduced : 

The  shades  of  night  are  falling 

Upon  the  waters  blue, 
And  from  the  gray  rocks  calling, 

I  hear  the  shrill  sea-mew. 
The  glittering  starlight  seems  to  rest 
Upon  the  waters'  breast. 

Sleep,  sleep  on,  my  little  one! 

Sleep  on !  Thy  bark  is  drifting 

O'er  moonlit  summer  seas; 
Its  silken  sails  are  shifting, 

Fanned  by  a  favouring  breeze. 
Thy  mother  holds  the  helm,  to  gaide 
Thy  course  upon  life's  tide. 

vSleep,  sleep  on,  my  little  one ! 

Sleep  on !  The  day  is  dawning 

When  thou  perchance  shall  be 
Tossed  in  thy  manhood's  morning 

On  Life's  tempestuous  sea, 
And  must  thyself,  through  storm  and  shoal. 
Thy  destiny  control. 

Sleep,  sleep  on,  my  little  one! 

Even  this  poem  ends  x^nth  a  sugges- 
tion of  the  inevitable  struggle  on  "Life's 
Tempestuous  Sea."  But  not  all  from 
the   west   has   yet   been   heard.     "Songs 


514 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


ATR.    W.    A. 

-'■'-*■  counted  a 


of  a  Sourdough,"  by  Robert  W.  Service, 
which  will  have  as  well  a  northern  flavour, 
is  announced  as  one  of  the  forthcom- 
ing publications  of  William  Briggs.  Judg- 
ing from  some  of  the  advance  proofs  the 
book  Avill  contain  at  least  bold,  virile 
verse,  with  a  touch  of  broad  humour. 

MR.  FRASER'S  LATEST  NOVEL 

FRASER,  who  is  now 
as  one  of  the  foremost  of 
Canadian  writers,  has  written  a  novel 
of  rural  Ontario  life  entitled:  "The  Lone 
Furrow"  (Toronto:  Henry  Frowde).  The 
scene  is  laid  in  a  village  not  far  from 
Toronto.  The  villagers  seem  to  be  mostly 
Scotch,  and  the  kirk  plays  a  large  part 
in  their  daily  walk  and  conversation. 
The  character  that  follows  the  "Lone 
Furrow"  is  "Jean,"  wife  of  Neil  Munro, 
the  minister,  and  the  whole  story  is 
contained  in  the  sudden  disappearance 
of  the  minister,  surmisings  about  the 
cause  of  his  unaccountable  action,  and 
his  return  some  months  later  in  a  hope- 
less condition.  The  tale  is  told  by  a 
gentleman  of  leisure,  called  "Doctor," 
and  it  begins  with  an  exciting  trout 
fishing  incident  in  connection  with  which 
one  first  hears  of  the  disappearance  of 
the  minister.  Seemingly  no  one  knows 
why  the  good  man  left  or  where  he  went 
or  how.  All  that  is  known  is  that  he 
mysteriously  disappeared,  giving  cause 
for  idle  gossip.  The  doctor's  wife  takes 
the  minister's  wife  to  live  wnth  her  in 
the  hope  of  assisting  the  bereaved  one 
to  bear  her  trouble,  and  most  of  the 
chapters  that  follow  are  intended  to 
show  the  fortitude  with  which  this  un 
fortunate  woman  undergoes  her  severe 
ordeal.  Not  only  is  she  subjected  to 
the  disgrace  of  her  husband's  disap- 
pearance, but  her  brother  is  a  young 
drunkard  about  the  village,  and  her 
father  was  a  drunkard  in  his  time.  There 
is  a  suspicion  that  the  brother  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  the  minister's  disap- 
pearance, and  the  placing  of  that  sus- 
picion, together  wth  the  disclosures  of 
the  youth's  susceptibilities,  is  perhaps 
the  cleverest  part  of  the  story.  Of 
course,  there  is  constantly  the  under- 
current  of   mystery,   and   that   is   main- 


tained until  the  climax  is  reached  in  the 
last  chapter.  There  is  also  the  feeling 
that  in  a  drunken  stupor  the  young  man 
will  unwittingly  divulge  the  secret,  but 
he  does  not.  He  sustains  a  severe  in- 
jury at  a  fire  in  the  kirk,  and  is  sent  to 
Montreal  to  undergo  treatment  at  the 
Royal  Victoria  Hospital.  While  there 
he  chances  one  night  to  get  a  glimpse  of 
the  missing  minister  passing  through 
the  ward.  He  sends  a  message  to  the 
\allage,  and  the  doctor  and  a  neighbour 
go  to  ^Montreal  to  investigate.  With  the 
assistance  of  a  detective  the  minister  is 
discovered  almost  at  death's  door,  a 
victim  of  the  opium  habit.  It  was  opium 
that  drove  him  from  his  wife  and  pas- 
torate in  the  first  place.  The  wife  had 
known  that  all  along;  so  had  her  drunken 
brother;  but  they  were  ashamed  to  ad- 
mit it.  The  terrible  experience  of  a 
young  girl  who  saw  her  father  go  to  a 
drunkard's  grave,  who  later  as  a  woman 
heard  her  brother's  voice  thick  with 
drink,  and  who  finally  witnessed  her 
husband,  a  noble,  respected  man,  a 
minister  of  the  gospel,  ruined  by  a  drug, 
is  the  meaning  of  "The  Lone  Furrow." 
While  that  is  the  structure  of  the  story, 
opportunity  is  taken  to  play  on  the  pecu- 
liarities of  the  Scotch,  and  to  indulge 
in  side  issues  which  have  no  bearing  on 
the  matter  in  hand,  but  which  afford 
pleasant  enough  reading  in  themselves. 
It  is  doubtful,  however,  whether  Mr. 
Fraser's  sensibilities  are  sufficiently  at- 
tuned to  properly  appreciate  all  that  in 
this  instance  he  has  undertaken. 

tr 

VERNON   NOTT'S  LATEST 

"CU^rr^IER  DAYS"  is  the  title  of  a 
*^  new  volume  of  poems  by  Vernon 
Nott  (Montreal:  Chapman's  Bookstore). 
Mr.  Nott's  style  is  known  to  those  who 
read  The  Canadian  Magazine,  and 
to  all  who  hcive  been  fortunate  enough 
to  procure  his  other  publications,  "The 
Ballad  of  the  Soul's  Desire,"  "The 
Tourney's  End,"  and  "Cleopatra  and 
Antony."  His  latest  book  contains  forty 
poems,  and  therefore  the  reader  is  en- 
abled to  judge  the  scope  of  the  author 
better  than  by  simply  perusing  a  single, 
even    if    more     pretentious,     poem.      In 


THE   WAY   OF   LETTERS 


515 


"Summer  Days"  Mr.  Nott  gives  us  a 
volume  of  sustained  merit,  with  a  liter- 
ary style  that  is  well  conceived  and 
well  executed.  Many  of  the  poems  are 
of  a  philosophical  nature,  and  .some  show 
concern  regarding  man's  final  destiny. 
There  is  a  slight  indication  of  theo- 
sophical  leaning.  It  may  be  seen  in  the 
following,  under  the  title  of  "Affinity": 

Maid  of  the  dreaming  eyes  and  mystic  face, 
Whence    was    tlie    mystic    spell    we    mutual 

wrought  ? 
For  you  but  pass'd,  inscrutable  in  thought, 
Your    each     calm     moment     and    eml^odied 

grace, 
Athwart    my    path,    and    bore,    a    pregnant 

space, 
Your  errant  glance  by  mine  enthralled  and 

caught — 
When,   lo,   the   warm   blood   up   your   cheek 

was  brought, 
And  flutter'd  traitorously  your  bosom's  lace. 
I  think  in  other  lives,  in  worlds  or  lands 
Far  distant  and  forgotten,  that  we  twain 
Were  more  than  friends;  and,  meeting  thus 

again, 
Escaped  a  moment  Time's  encircling  bands — 
While  in  our  souls  what  memories  were  lain 
Stirr'd    in    their    sleep    to    stretch    imploring 

hands. 


SOME  NATURE  LYRICS 

AVERY  attractive  volume  entitled 
"Nature  Lyrics"  has  been  issued  for 
Miss  Martha  Martin, of  Montreal, from  the 
Gorham  Press  of  Boston.  It  contains 
one  hundred  selections,  including  a  num- 
ber of  translations  from  the  works  of 
some  of  the  best  German  versifiers. 
Most  of  the  numbers  are  quite  short, 
although  there  has  not  been  much  in- 
dulgence in  sonnets.  However,  there 
are  a  few  sonnets,  and  while  in  this  form 
Miss  Martin  is  not  at  her  best,  we  quote 
one  entitled  "Night"  in  order  to  afford 
an  interesting  comparison  with  the  work 
of  Miss  Minnie  Evelyn  Henderson,  who 
makes  a  contribution  under  the  same 
title  to  this  number  of  The  Canadian 
Magazine,  page  435.  Miss  Martin's 
sonnet  follows: 

List  to  the  wind  among  the  elm  trees  croon, 
Each  little  leaf  she  fondles  to  her  breast. 
The  branches  stretch  their  arms  to  be  ca- 
ressed. 
While  from  her  shutter  peeps  the  virgin  moon. 
The  stars  in  heaven  their  golden  bugles  tune 
To  ti:embling  notes  that  echo  down  the 
West,— 


And  lull  the  sinking  sun  at  length  to  rest. 
Oh  beauteous  .Sunmier  night  of  fragrant  June 
That  dravvest   nigh   when   Day's  long  march 

is  o'er. 
How  welcome  is  thy  sweet  serenity! 
Effaced  beneath  thy  grave  tranciuility 
Is    all    earth's    heated    clamour,     rush    and 

roar, — 
The  heart  reveals  its  secrets  unto  thee, 
And  in  thine  ear  may  all  its  anguish  pour. 

u 

A  PINCHBECK  ROMANCE 

U/ILLIAM  LE  QUEUX  has  written 
*  »  a  dozen  or  more  books,  of  which 
"The  Invasion  of  1910"  is  the  most  re- 
markable. His  latest  novel  "The  Great 
Court  Scandal  "  (London:  T.  Fisher  Un- 
win)  is  decidedly  below  his  average 
work,  and  belongs  to  the  class  of  mildly 
melodramatic  fiction.  It  seems .  to  be 
an  imitation  of  an  imitation,  following 
the  model  of  Mr.  Harold  McGrath  and 
Mr.  G.  B.  McCutcheon,  who  follow — 
at  a  distance — the  author  of  "The  Pris- 
oner of  Zenda."  The  heroine  of  Mr. 
Le  Queux's  story  is  the  Princess  Claire, 
of  whom  we  are  informed  that  "the 
whole  assembly,  even  though  hating  her, 
could  not  but  admire  her  neat  waist, 
her  splendid  figure  and  matchless  beauty." 
This  gorgeous  creature  has  more  than 
her  share  of  troubles,  but  emerges  tri- 
umphant, with  her  enemies  exiled  or 
humbled.  The  story  will  doubtless  ap- 
peal to  many  readers  who  find  Sir  Walter 
Scott  dull. 

u 

DON  Q.  TO  THE  FRONT  ACxAIN 

ALL  who  have  stayed  up  at  night  to 
read  the  adventures  of  Don  Q.,  will 
be  delighted  to  know  that  a  new  volume 
of  this  class  of  entertainment  has  been 
written  by  K.  and  Hesketh  Prichard, 
under  the  title  "New  Chronicles  of  Don 
Q."  (London:  T.  Fisher  Unwin,  Col- 
onial Library).  In  these  "New  Chron- 
icles" are  related  the  adventures  of  the 
famous  Spanish  brigand  after  his  return 
to  the  mountains  and  resumption  of  his 
leadership.  He  will  again  be  found  of 
surpassing  interest  in  his  humours,  his 
weaknesses,  his  cruelties,  and  his  mer- 
cies. These  chronicles  tell,  among  other 
things,  how  Don  Q.  fought  for  the  Val- 
derejos;  how  he  had  need  of  a  surgeon; 


516 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


how  he  treated  a  great  EngUsh  cricketer; 
and  how  he  dealt  with  a  thief  who  was 
incidentally  a  swindler  known  all  over 
the  world  and  seeking  asylum  in  Spain. 

tr 

HOW  TO  MAKE  A  SPEECH 

IV/rR.    GRENVILLE     P.    KLEISER, 

■^'-*-  one  of  the  best  known  authorities 
on  elocution  on  the  continent,  is  the 
author  of  a  valuable  book  entitled  ''How 
to  Speak  in  Public"  (New  York:  Funk 
and  Wagnalls  Company).  Besides  deal- 
ing with  the  difficulties  that  most  begin- 
ners experience  in  attempting  to  speak 
in  pubHc,  the  book  is  an  elocutionary 
manual,  comprising  numerous  exercises 
for  developing  the  speaking  voice,  deep 
breathing,  pronunciation,  vocal  expres- 
sion and  gesture.  The  author  was  form- 
erly instructor  in  elocution  and  pubb'c 
speaking  in  Yale  University,  and  is  now' 
instructor  in  elocution  in  the  Jewish 
Theological  Seminary  of  America  and 
in  other  institutions. 

THE  CRITICS  vs.  SHAKESPEARE 

SO  much  has  been  said  pro  and  con 
respecting  the  w^orks  of  one  William 
Shakespeare,  that  it  is  with  much  satis- 
faction that  one  learns  of  a  volume  deal- 
ing in  a  comprehensive  way  with  this 
now  historical  controversy.  Adverse 
criticism  of  Shakespeare  has  been  ram- 
pant ever  since  the  time  of  Ben  Jonson, 
and  it  became  particularly  animated  dur- 
ing the  seventeenth  century.  Mr.  Francis 
A.  Smith  has  undertaken  to  defend  the 
poet  in  a  volume  entitled  "The  Critics 
versus  Shakespeare:  A  Brief  for  the  De- 
fendant" (New  York:  The  Knicker- 
bocker Press).  Mr.  Smith  deals  with 
many  of  the  most  significant  criticisms 
and  concludes:  "He  (Shakespeare)  needed 
and  he  sought  no  aUies  to  win  his  realm; 
he  imitated  no  fashions  of  other  courts 
to  maintain  his  own;  he  took  good  care 
that  the  records  of  his  universal  con- 
quests should  be  kept — wTitten  by  his 
own  hand,  and  fortunately  preserved  by 
his  friends — secure  from  the  interpola- 
tions and  imitations  of  his  contempor- 
aries and'  successors."  Perhaps,  after 
all,  the  Irishman  was  right  when  he'"said 


that  the  works  attributed  to  Shake- 
speare were  not  written  by  the  great  bard 
at  all,  but  by  another  man  of  the  same 
name.  However,  to  those  who  wish  to 
know  something  definite  about  this  great 
controversy  ]Mr.  Smith's  book  is  com- 
mended. 

ALMON   HENSLEY'S  VERSE 

A  VOLUME  of  175  pages  devoted  to 
-^"^  verse  on  human  passions  and  sym- 
pathies is  of  itself  sufficient  to  command 
attention,  but  when  the  name  of  Aim  on 
Hensley  is  given  as  the  author,  with  G. 
P.  Putnam's  Sons,  New-  York,  as  pub- 
lishers, the  importance  of  the  offering 
from  a  literary  standpoint  is  at  once 
apparent.  The  title  of  tlie  book  is  "The 
Heart  of  a  Woman,"  and  the  contents 
show-  what  an  appreciable,  responsive 
and  varying  quantity  the  subject  really 
is.  But  the  title  is  not  wholly  compre- 
hensive of  the  contents,  because  some  of 
the  numbers  depart  from  that  truly  in- 
teresting pathway.  The  first  pages  are 
given  over  to  "Lyrics  of  Love."  Then 
follow  in  turn  "A  Woman's  Love  Let- 
ters," "Nature  Poems,"  "Narrative 
Poems,"  "Child  Poems  and  Songs," 
and  "Sonnets  and  Rondeaus,"  making 
in  all  a  decidedly  attractive  collection 
of  poems  well  worth  reading  and  care- 
ful stud  v. 

tr 

NOTES 

— Mr.  John  A.  Cooper,  who  is  one  of 
the  most  \\idely-known  journalists  in  the 
Dominion,  undertook  a  few  months  ago 
what  might  rightly  be  regarded  as  a 
herculean  task,  the  successful  founding 
of  a  weekly  journal  in  Canada.  He 
was  happy  in  the  selection  of  a  name, 
and  so  the  Canadian  Courier  is  by  this 
time  a  well-known  contribution  to  the 
news-stands.  It  would  not  be  fair  to 
the  editor  to  say  that  the  first  fe.w  num- 
bers were  a  success,  but  there  has  been 
a  steadv  and  decided  improvement  with 
everv  successive  issue,  and  those  who 
know  Mr.  Cooper  believe  that  his  ideal 
has  not  yet  been  reached.  Weekly  jour- 
nalism in  Canada  has  long  been  regirded 
as  a  difficult  field,  but  The  Courirr  has 


THE    WAY   OF    LETTERS 


517 


been  started  on  the  ujnvard  \va\^  of 
progress,  and  if  it  should  maintain  the 
pace  there  seems  to  be  plenty  of  room 
for  it. 

— "Among  the  Immortals"  is  the  title 
of  a  book  that  will  perhaps  not  be  prop- 
erly appreciated  by  those  into  whose 
hands  it  may  casually  fall,  but  to  those 
who  have  an  insight  into  its  purpose,  it 
will  mean  much.  The  author  is  Rev. 
R.  Walter  Wright,  a  member  of  the 
Hamilton  Conference  of  the  Methodist 
Church.     The   volume   is  reallv  a   treat- 


and  sometime  Rogers  Memorial  Fellow 
of  Harvard  University  (Toronto:  William 
Briggs).  A  more  extended  notice  of  it 
will  appear  later. 

— William  Briggs,  Toronto,  announces 
the  following  for  publication  soon: 

"Songs  of  a  Sourdough:  The  Vukcn 
in  \'erse,"  by  Robert  W.  Service. 

"At  the  Sign  of  the  Beaver:  Northland 
Stories  and  Stanzas,"  by  Samuel  M. 
BayHs,  author  of  "Camp  and  Lamp." 

"Fire  and  Frost:  The  Meadowdale 
Tragedy,"  by  R.  Dc/ell. 


FIRST   rRoTKslAM    CHURCH    IN    CHILLIWACK    VALLEY,  B.C.,   AS    SHOW.N 

iix  REV.  JOHN  Crosby's  work  ox  ixdiax  missions, 
TO  appear  soox 


ment  in  verse,  and  in  a  somewhat  con- 
secutive way,  of  various  incidents  and 
teachings  of  tlie  Bible  from  Genesis  to 
Revelations.  To  those  who  might  find 
it  difficult  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of 
most  of  the  selections,  we  commend  the 
one  entitled  "Bereaved,"  which  is  in 
itself  a   worthy   contribution. 

■ — "The  Study  of  Nature  and  the 
\'ision  of  God:  With  Other  Essays  in 
Philosophy,"  is  the  title  of  a  volume 
just  to  hand  from  the  pen  of  George 
John  Blewett  R}erson,  Professor  of  Moral 
Philosophy  in  Victoria  College,  Toronto, 


"Jan,"  the  autobiography  of  a  dog,  by 
Charlotte  Penrose,  with  illustrations  by 
Kate  T.  Nesbet. 

— The  Cambridge  Corporation,  Lim- 
ited, Montreal,  who  have  the  reputation 
of  producing  exceptionally  fine  pubhca- 
tions,  announce  the  Royal  Canadian 
edition  of  "Beautiful  Britain,"  in  fifteen 
volumes.  The  edition  contains  eleven 
hundred  coloured  illustrations,  and  is 
claimed  to  be  the  finest  publication  ever 
distributed  in  Canada.  The  output  is 
limited  to  one  thousand  copies,  num- 
bered and  resfistered. 


HOW    GIN   SAVED    MANITOBA 

AN  INCIDENT  OF  THE  FENIAN  RAID  OF  1 87  I 

AROUND  the  tables  not  long  ago 
were  gathered  the  "Old  Timers" 
of  the  west  at  their  annual  banquet  in 
Winnipeg.  .Ajnong  the  number  were 
men  who  began  in  the  west  before  the 
railroads  had  reached  the  land  of  No.  1 
Hard.  All  had  seen  Winnipeg  grow 
from  an  insignificant  village,  and  all  were 
in  reminiscent  mood,  relating  stories 
of  the  ox  cart  and  the  prairie  schooner, 
and  the  hardships  through  which  they 
passed  in  those  pre -railroad  days. 

During  the  evening  one  of  the  speakers 
referred  in  complimentary  terms  to  the 
late  United  States  Consul  James  W. 
Taylor,  ''that  great  friend  of  Winnipeg," 
of  whom,  at  his  funeral,  it  was  said: 
"United  States  consuls  may  come  and 
United  States  consuls  may  go,  but  there 
will  be  but  one  Consul  Taylor."  At  the 
mention  of  the  name  there  arose  to  his 
feet  at  the  head  of  the  table  Hon.  Colin 
H.  Inkster,  better  known  at  the  present 
time  as  Sheriff  Inkster. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "I  see  before 
me  but  very,  very  few  real  "Old  Timers" 
(Sheriff  Inkster  was  bom  in  Kildonan  in 
184s).  I  was  told  that  this  was  to  be  an 
'Old  Timers'  Dinner.'  However,  we 
are  glad  to  see  the  younger  men  here,  for 
we  need  them.  Speaking  of  U.S.  Taylor, 
as  we  always  called  him,  I  am  reminded 
of  the  last  visit  he  ever  made  to  my 
father's  house  and  of  the  story  he  told  me 
at  the  time.  The  grand  old  man  walked 
down  along  the  river  to  our  house  one 
afternoon,  and  after  chatting  for  a  few 
minutes  with  my  father,  he  turned  to  me 
and  said:  'Did  you  know  that  your 
father's  gin  saved  Manitoba?'  I  was 
naturally  surprised  at  the  question,  and 
answered  in  the  negative,  awaiting  the 
old    gentleman's    story.     Consul    Taylor 

518 


then  took  another  sip  from  his  glass,  and 
related  the  following: 

"'Early  in  the  fall  of  187 1  there  were 
many  rumours  of  a  final  attempt  on  the 
part  of  the  Fenians  to  invade  Canada, 
but  little  notice  was  taken  of  the  reports, 
as  it  was  thought  that  the  disaft"ected 
Irishmen  had  been  disappointed  by  their 
former  invasions  and  were  satisfied.  It 
happened,  however,  that  we  were  mis- 
taken. Late  in  September  a  stranger 
came  to  Winnipeg  to  see  me  on  business. 
It  was  a  trivial  affair,  and  I  gave  the  man 
what  aid  I  could,  but  he  still  Hngered 
around  the  city  and  became  rather  a 
bore.  He  was  at  my  house  one  Sunday 
afternoon  (Consul  Taylor  lived  where 
the  new  C.P.R.  depot  now  stands)  and 
I  suggested  that  we  take  a  walk  down  the 
river  bank  and  call  upon  my  old  friend, 
your  father.  It  was  a  beautiful  afternoon, 
and  the  walk  was  delightful.  We  found 
your  father  at  home,  and  as  was  the  cus- 
tom, he  brought  out  the  decanter  and 
glasses.  We  had  one  glass  of  gin,  and  in 
the  course  of  the  hour  two  more,  and 
shortly  afterwards  started  for  home. 
~  On  the  way  the  stranger  was  very  talk- 
ative; the  gin  seemed  to  have  loosened 
him  wonderfully.  He  broached  the  sub- 
ject of  the  Fenians,  and  from  what  he 
said  I  suspected  he  might  know  more  than 
he  appeared  to,  so  I  led  him  on.  In  a 
few  minutes  he  unfolded  to  me  the  whole 
plot  by  which  the  fair  Province  of  Mani- 
toba was  to  fall  a  prey  to  the  Fenians  and 
the  inhabitants  to  be  driven  out  or 
subdued. 

"'It  was  with  difl&culty  that  I  restrain- 
ed my  feelings  and  did  not  arouse  any 
suspicions  in  the  mind  of  my  companion. 
He  left  me  as  we  approached  the  city, 
and  instead  of  going  home  as  usual  I  at 
once  went  to  Governor  Archibald  and 
communicated  to  him  the  details  of  the 
invasion  as  I  had  learned  it.     He  imme- 


IDLE   MOMENTS 


510 


fliately  wired  to  the 
Federal  authorities  at 
Ottawa,  and  the  Wash- 
ington Government 
was  also  informed  of 
the  contemplated  action 
of  their  citizens. 

'"The  rest  of  the 
story  you  know  well, 
how  the  American 
troops  came  over  the 
border  and  arrested  the 
intruders  for  breach  of 
the  neutrahty  laws.  I 
receiveda  telegram  after 
the  raid  from  Col. 
Wheaton,  who  was  in 
charge  of  the  American 
troops,  in  which  he 
said:  " I  have  captured 
Geo.  J.  O'Neil,  Gen. 
Thos.  Curley  and  Col. 
J.  J.  Donley.  I  think 
further  anxiety  regard- 
ing a  Fenian  invasion 
of  Manitoba  unneces- 
sary. 

'"That    was    how    your 
saved  Manitoba.'" 

George  Fisher  Chipman 

X5 

THE    OLD    AND    THE    NEW 

IN  the  State  of  Washington   a  railway 
bridge    had    been    destroyed    by  tire, 
and  it  was  necessary  to  replace  it.     The 


%:y..-^:^^^^^if^^^^ 


THE  SUFFICIENCY   OF  WEALTH 

Chimmie:  "So  yer  refuse  me  'cause  I'm  poor?  Well,  yer'll 
find  dat  money  don't  bring  happiness." 

Amandy:  "Well,  it  don't  have  ter.  See?  It  kin  hire  it 
brung." — Li\e. 


father's    gin 


.\  HOUSE  MADE  OF  BOTTLES 


bridge  engineer  and  his  staff  were  ordered 
in  haste  to  the  place.  Two  days  later 
came  the  superintendent  of  the  division. 
Alighting  from  his  private  car,  he  en- 
countered the  old  master  bridge-builder. 
"Joe,"  said  the  Superintendent,  and 
the  words  quivered  with  energy,  "I  want 
this  job  rushed.  Every  hour's  delay  costs 
the  company  money.  Have  you  got  the 
engineer's  plans  for  the  new 
bridge?" 

"I  don't  know,"  replied 
the  bridge  builder,  "whether 
the  engineer  has  got  the 
picture  drawled  yet  or  not, 
iDut  the  bridge  is  up  and  the 
trains  is  passin'  over  it." — 
Argonaut. 


A   BOTTLE    HOUSE 

ON  the  White  Pass  sum- 
mit, at  the  entrance  ta 
the  famous  Klondyke  region, . 
is  a  house  built  of  empty  beer 
and  whiskey  bottles.  The 
top  is  surrounded  with  canvas,^ 


520 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


and  covered  with  boards.  Mud  was 
placed  between  the  bottles  and  the  whole 
structure  was  in  this  manner  made  firm. 
The  braced  pole  on  the  top  is  a  portion 
of  the  staff  from  which  floated  the 
national  flao;. 


WINDMILL  IN   A  TREE 
HE    lower    Lachine     road,     between 
Montreal  and  Lachine,  is  one  of  the 
most  interesting  spots  in  the  Province  of 


T 


Quebec.  Many  quaint  and  ciu-ious  things 
are  to  be  seen  there,  and  perhaps  tlie 
least  interesting  is  a  windmill  built  upon 
the  top  of  a  tree.  The  tree  answers  the 
purpose  of  the  usual  frame  work. 

U 
A    GRACIOUS   SOVEREIGN 

CONSIDERABLE  amusement  was 
once  caused  by  a  sHp  of  Emperor 
Nicholas's  pen  in  accepting  the  offers  of 
several  companies  of  Siberian  militia 
who  volunteered  for  service  at  the  front. 


The  petition  read:  "We  humbly  lay  at 
your  Majesty's  feet  our  desire  to  be  per- 
mitted to  fight  and  die  for  the  father- 
land." The  Emperor,  in  accepting, 
wTote  on  the  margin  of  the  petition  in 
his  own  hand,  'T  thank  you  sincerely, 
and  hope  your  wishes  may  be  fully 
realised." — Sacred  Heart  Review. 


BIBLE    READING    IN    MISSOURI 

r  "OLONEL  JOHN  COSGROVE,  aft- 
^  erward  Congressman  from  the  Boon- 
viUe  district,  was  especially  distinguished 
as  an  advocate  before  a  ju  y.  Defend- 
ing a  client  accused  of  some  crime.  Col- 
onel Cosgrove  in  an  eloquent  chmax 
shouted : 

"What  does  the  State's  attorney  ex- 
pect? Does  he  expect  my  client,  like 
Daniel,  to  command  the  sun  to  stand 
still,  and  have  it  obey?" 

Judge  James  W.  Draffen,  lawyer  for 
the  opposition,  interrupted: 

"May  it  please  your  Honour,''  he  said, 
addressing  Judge  James  E.  Haze  1,  who 
was  on  the  bench,  "I  object  to  Colonel 
Cosgrove's  misquoting  Scripture." 

"I  beg  pardon,"  blandly  replied  Col- 
onel Cosgrove.  'T  forgot  for  the  mo- 
ment that  it  was  not  Daniel,  but  Solo- 
mon, who  commanded  the  sun  to  stand 
still." 

And  this  statement  went  unchallenged. 
— Kansas  City  Star. 

X3 


a  wild  pelican,  photographed  on  a 
canadi.\n  northwest  prairie 


CHRIST  AND  THE  MAGDALEN 

Posed  by  members  of  the  Passion  Play  Company  of  Oberammergau,  Bavaria 


THE 


Canadian  Magazine  " 


VOL.  XXVIII 


TORONTO,  APRIL,  1907 


No.  6 


Toronto:  A  Turn  in  Its  History 


By 


y  Cy^oC<..XL^      tx^^?"'Z<^>^p^^ 


D.C.L. 


A  striking  picture  of  contrasts — What  was,  what  is,  and  what  will 
probably  be,  with  a  warning  against  civic  landlordism 


^^^^^^liHE  announcement  that  manu- 
facturers are  going  to  build 
a  thousand  houses  for  addi- 
tional hands  seems  to  mark 
a  turning  point  in  the  history 
of  Toronto.  Is  she  henceforth  to  be  a 
residential  or  a  manufacturing  city?  She 
can  hardly  be  both,  at  least  in  a  special 
degree.  Apparently,  by  this  announce- 
ment, the  die  is  cast  and  Toronto  is  to  be 
a  manufacturing  city. 

It  can  hardly  be  said  that  Toronto  has 
not  hitherto  in  her  own  line  been  progres- 
sive. When  a  stranger  came  to  settle  in 
her  thirty-four  years  ago,  the  population 
was  barely  a  third  of  what  it  is  now. 
Dundas  Street,  where  the  newcomer 
lived,  was  still  rural.  Cows  pastured  on 
the  street.  In  the  neighbourhood  there 
was  just  society  enough  to  make  up  a 
rubber.  Rosedale  with  its  fanciful  variety 
of  villas  was  not,  nor  was  St.  George  Street 
with  its  lines  of  mansions.  There  was 
little  east  of  the  Don.  On  Queen's  Park 
rose  no  massive  pile  of  Parliament  Build- 
ings, no  bright  parterres  of  flowers  met 
the  eye.  No  new  City  Hall  on  Queen 
Street  bespoke  the  plethora  of  city  finance. 
The  Island  now,  with  its  countless  villas, 
is  the  summer  paradise  of  opulence,  and 
at  the  same  time  the  scene  of  those  enjoy- 
ments the  extension  of  which  to  the  less 


wealthy  class,  the  whole  family  sharing 
them,  is  one  of  the  pleasant  features  of  the 
age.  In  those  days,  it  is  believed,  there 
was  on  the  Island,  besides  the  lighthouse, 
one  solitary  bungalow,  in  which  the  writer 
spent  an  evening  with  its  owner.  Three 
mansions  in  the  characteristically  English 
style,  built  half  a  centurv-  before,  stood, 
antiquities  among  mushrooms.  Moss 
Park  was  the  abode  of  the  Allans.  The 
''Palace"  had  been  the  abode  of  the  re- 
doubtable Bishop  Strachan,  but  had  sunk 
to  a  boarding-house.  The  Grange,  the 
mansion  of  the  Boultons,  was  haunted  by 
the  memories  of  the  Family  Compact,  in- 
teresting, though  politically  sombre.  It 
had  seen  the  day  when  a  bear  attacked 
a  carriage-horse  in  its  garden,  when  an 
Indian  walked  into  its  mistress's  bed- 
room, and  a  British  officer  lost  himself  in 
the  bush  hard  by.  It  had  been  outside 
the  city,  which  had  grown  round  it,  leav- 
ing it,  however,  with  an  ample  lot,  since 
somewhat  curtailed  by  the  taxgatherer. 

As  a  residential  city,  Toronto  has 
lacked  country  drives.  There  are  pleas- 
ant drives  through  Moore  Park  and  be- 
yond Forest  Hill;  but  the  roads  are 
seldom  good.  One  carriage  only  you  are 
likely  to  meet  there.  High  Park  is  very 
pleasant  and  well  kept;  but  it  is  reached 
through  a  long  line  of   trolley  street  and 


524 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


a  very  disagreeable  bridge.  If  the  City 
Council  had  only  kept  the  lake  front  for 
an  esplanade  1  But  how  can  you  expect 
foresight  of  a  council  which  is  always 
going  for  re-election?  It  would  be  well, 
however,  if  the  Riverdale  Zoo  could  be 
transferred  to  High  Park  and  the  poor 
elephant  could  be  released  from  his  tor- 
turing chain. 

The  circle  of  the  fashionable  world  in 
those  days  was,  of  course,  far  narrower 
than  it  is  now.  It  would  scarcely  have 
supplied  numbers  for  one  of  those  social 
battues  which  we  call  afternoon  teas,  and 
into  which  have  expanded  the  original 
afternoon  teas  of  England,  with  their 
eight  or  ten  people  meeting  informally  for 
tea,  talk,  and  music.  The  two  heads  of 
society  were  Mr.,  afterwards  Sir  David, 
Macpherson,  and  Colonel,  afterwards  Sir 
Casimir,  Gzowski.  It  is  with  a  pensive 
feeling  that  a  survivor  of  those  days  looks 
on  the  vacant  sites  where  once  stood  Chest- 
nut Park  and  The  Hall. 

With  its  centres  of  government,  ad- 
ministration, and  law,  its  banks,  its 
agencies  of  commercial  distribution,  and 
its  University,  Toronto  was  not  only  at- 
tractive, perhaps  as  much  so  as  any  city 
on  the  continent,  but  was  thriving,  and 
seemed  assured  of  increasing  prosperity  in 
the  future.  Pleasant  was  the  picture 
which  it  presented  to  the  eye  of  a  visitor 
coming  in  over  the  lake  and  looking  at  it 
with  its  towers  and  spires,  lit  up  by  the 
evening  sun. 

Toronto's  citizens  were  proud  of  her 
and  were  forming  plans  for  her  embellish- 
ment; an  association  with  that  object  was 
on  foot.  She  was  becoming  a  centre  of 
art  as  well  as  of  government  and  finance. 
She  had  a  school  of  painting,  in  landscape 
and  portraiture  at  least,  the  reputation  of 
which  was  not  confined  to  her.  She  had 
a  school  of  sculpture  which  had  shown  its 
capability.  She  had  a  very  flourishing 
school  of  music.  A  centre  of  literature 
could  hardly  be  formed  under  our  local 
conditions,  much  cut  off  as  we  were  from 
the  field  and  mart  of  the  great  intellectual 
world.  But  we  had  our  literary  life  and 
good  writers  more  than  one. 

Now  comes  a  change.  The  visitor  ap- 
proaching over  the  lake  sees,  not  the 
bright  city  roseate  with  the  evening  sun, 


but  a  vast  volume  of  smoke,  betokening  a 
change,  perhaps  an  inevitable  change,  in 
the  destination  of  our  city.  Materially 
the  change  is  for  the  better.  At  all  events 
it  has  come.  Commerce  must  have  its 
way.  It  has  its  way  with  Niagara,  turn- 
ing a  wonder  and  a  glory  into  a  "power." 
Smoke,  besides  its  disfigurement,  is  an 
evil,  if,  as  we  are  told,  it  is  destroying  by 
corrosion  an  English  cathedral  which  has 
defied  the  waste  of  ages.  But  more  vital 
than  a  change  in  the  atmosphere  is  a 
change  in  the  pursuits  and  character  of  the 
people.  Manufactures,  by  enormously 
increasing  production,  have  been  an  im- 
mense boon  to  us  all.  But  the  same  thing 
can  hardly  be  said  without  hesitation  of 
factory  life.  The  factory  hands  in  their 
unions  are  a  class  and  an  interest  very 
much  apart,  waging  an  intermittent  war, 
which  at  present  unhappily  shows  littlesign 
of  abatement,  with  their  employers,  and 
under  the  leadership  of  men  from  the 
other  side  of  the  line.  This,  like  other 
social  problems,  we  hope  will  work  itself 
out  in  time.  But  in  the  meantime  it 
gives  trouble,  and  not  only  to  the  two  in- 
terests immediately  at  war.  Chicago, 
Pittsburg,  and  other  manufacturing  cities 
know  this  too  well. 

To  a  residential  city  manufactures  are 
a  special  source  of  trouble,  as  they  break 
up  the  domestic  service.  The  girls  are 
allured  to  the  factory  by  the  independence 
or  what  they  take  for  such,  the  companion- 
ship, the  fixed  hours,  the  evenings  and 
Sundays  to  themselves,  though  their  life 
according  to  the  report  of  those  who  have 
explored  it  is  not  attractive  or  high.  They 
can  learn  nothing  that  will  ever  be  of  use 
to  them  as  wives  or  mothers.  The  want 
of  comfort  in  the  home  is  probably  often 
the  cause  of  wife-desertion,  not  less  than 
infidelity  on  the  part  of  the  man.  Owing 
to  the  failure  of  domestic  service  Apart- 
ment Houses  are  rising  to  the  skies.  The 
Apartment  House  can  hardly  be  as  good 
as  a  home,  particularly  for  the  children. 

There  is  a  rush,  no  doubt,  into  the 
cities  from  other  sources.  It  is  a  feature 
of  the  age,  the  result  partly,  perhaps,  of 
the  displacement  of  hands  by  agricultural 
machinery,  but  chiefly  of  the  general 
restlessness,  stimulated  perhaps  by  popular 
education.     It   is  an   unhappy   tendency. 


\ 


TORONTO:    A    TURN    IN    ITS    HISTORY 


5^5 


In  the  city  living  is  dearer,  the  air  is  not 
so  good.  The  moral  atmosphere  is  worse 
for  the  children.  There  is  not  even  so 
much  sociability,  though  there  is  more 
rush  and  excitement.  In  the  country, 
neighbours  know  each  other;  in  the  city, 
the  nearest  neighbours  often  do  not. 

We  have,  moreover,  an  influx  of  immi- 
gration, some  of  it  very  alien  and  not  of 
the  most  desirable  kind. 

We  seem  to  think  that  an  increase  of 
population,  whatever  its  character,  must 
be  an  increase  of  wealth  and  well-being. 
The  population  of  Toronto  has  trebled, 
and  the  price  of  some  of  the  chief  neces- 
saries of  life  has  risen  thirty  or  forty  per 
cent.,  while  house-rent  has  risen  still  more. 
This,  no  doubt,  is  from  various  causes, 
but  it  is  not  identical  with  well-being,  at 
least  to  those  who  are  touched  by  it. 
Fixed  incomes  and  salaries  must  have 
been  reduced  fully  thirty  per  cent. 

The  newcomers  drawn  by  the  factories 
will  be  of  the  poorer  class,  and  will  have 
to  be  provided  by  the  taxpayers  with  their 
share  of  the  city  services,  and  with  an 
education  for  their  children,  the  great  and 
growing  expense  of  which,  under  the 
arbitrary  demands  of  the  school  board, 
has  caused  a  note  of  warning  to  be 
sounded  by  the  Mayor;  as  well  it  may, 
when  we  have  the  expenditure  on  the 
Trunk  Sewer,  rendered  more  inevitable 
than  ever  by  the  increase  of  the  popula- 
tion, in  view. 

There  are  probably  no  means  of  ascer- 
taining how  much  of  the  capital  invested 
in  the  factories  will  be  resident  in  the  city 
and  contributory  to  its  expenditure. 

Our  highways,  now  loaded  and  blocked 
with  heavy  traffic,  seem  not  made  for  that 
service.  Will  not  the  expense  of  main- 
taining them  be  increased  ? 

Slums,  about  which  there  is  an  alarm, 
are  the  dregs  and  almost  inevitable  ac- 
companiments of  overgrown  cities.  The 
bad  quarter  in  St.  John's  Ward,  however, 
of  which  we  have  heard  so  much,  was  a 


special  case  in  which  it  would  seem  the 
Health  Officer  might  have  intervened. 
Our  best  course  would  surely  have  been 
to  expropriate  that  area,  the  houses  upon 
which  were  almost  worthless,  and  then 
build  the  new  Library  near,  as  public  in- 
stitutions ought  U)  be,  to  the  City  Hall, 
with  a  small  park.  The  neighbourhood 
would  then  have  improved  of  itself.  In- 
stead of  this,  we  have  put  the  Library  out 
of  the  way,  and  to  make  a  site  for  it,  pulled 
dow-n  about  the  most  costly  mansion  in 
the  city. 

Proclaim  that  you  are  going  to  provide 
housing  cheap  for  all  who  call  themselves 
working  men,  and  you  will  have  a  rush 
into  the  city  which  will  aggravate  the  con- 
gestion. The  municipality  cannot  go 
into  the  business  of  building  and  letting 
houses  without  manifest  danger  of  abuse. 
London  has  pronounced  its  verdict  on 
policy  of  this  kind.  A  wiser  plan  was 
that  endorsed  by  the  Associated  Charities, 
providing  the  best  models  and  letting 
trade  take  its  course.  I  am  assured, 
though  I  have  no  means  of  accurately 
verifving  the  statement,  that  a  good  many 
of  the  artisans  of  Toronto  own  their  own 
homes. 

There  is  no  use  in  repining.  Our  best 
policy  practically  seems  to  be  that  of 
supporting  the  City  Council  in  its  effort 
to  locate  factories  for  the  future  on  Ash- 
bridge's  Bay,  where,  at  all  events,  they 
could  hardly  annoy  us  with  their  smoke. 
Why  was  this  policy,  obvious  as  it  now 
seems,  not  adopted  before?  Because  the 
forecast  necessary  for  the  adoption  of  any 
policy  is  not  possible  with  a  government, 
the  members  of  which  hold  their  office  by 
so  brief  a  tenure  and  must  be  always 
thinking  of  re-election.  The  occurrence 
of  the  present  crisis  in  our  fortunes  may 
be  salutarv,  as  it  practically  impresses  on 
us  the  necessity  of  exchanging  the  present 
system  for  an  expert,  stable,  and  really 
responsible  government. 


A    MAGNIFICENT   GOLDEN-EYE    DRAKE 


Decoying  the  Golden-Eye 

By   BOWYCASTLE   DALE 

WITH    PHOTOGRAPHS  BY  THE   AUTHOR 


Personal  experiences  with  this  beautiful  specie  of  wild  duck, 
and  incidentally  with  the  gidl  robber-duck,  the  goosander 


O  well  illustrate  my  subject, 
let  me  first  of  all  present  the 
picture  of  this  big,  handsome 
bird.  It  was  taken  in  a  most 
unnatural  position,  it  always 
being  my  aim  to  photograph  the  bird  in 
flight  or  in  the  water,  but  of  the  dozens  of 
good  pictures  we  have  got  none  of  them 
were  close  enough  to  show  the  plumage 
distinctly.  There  is  a  rocky  point  on  the 
northern  shores  of  Rice  Lake,  where  chub, 
roach  and  shiners  abound.  Here  we  had 
often  seen  a  flock  of  American  Golden- 
Eve  ducks  busily  feeding  on  the  schools 
of  small  fish,  diving  in  deep  water  after 
them  or  chasing  them  almost  ashore  in 
the  shallows;  following  them  with  none 
of  the  body  submerged  save  the  bill  and 
eyes;  half  wading,  half  swimming,  throw- 
ing up  clouds  of  spray  as  they  dashed 
hither  and  thither;  then,  when  the  flock 
was  thoroughly  satisfied  they  would  wade 
ashore  and  sun  themselves  on  the  rocks 
and  pebbles.  We  were  determined  to 
picture  this  bird  at  six  feet.  We  tried 
526 


stone  "hides"  to  conceal  ourselves  in,  but 
the  wary  bu-ds  swam  ashore  fifty  yards 
away.  Finally,  we  concealed  both  ma- 
chines, made  long  connections  and  car- 
ried them  up  the  steep  bank.  There  we 
lay,  well  hidden  behind  some  young 
cedars  and  watched  the  flock  diving  and 
swimming  along.  About  forty  of  the 
birds,  well  gorged  with  fish,  sat  dozing  on 
the  water  directly  in  front  of  us;  a  few 
then  swam  and  scrambled  ashore,  and 
finally  one  took  up  a  position  we  had 
often  seen  a  bird  occupy  on  a  bed  of  shore- 
driven  wild  rice  straw  directly  in  front  of 
the  big  camera.  I  can  still  hear  the  clear 
whistling,  flapping  and  splashing  that 
ensued  when  the  curtain  ran  down  with 
its  metallic  clang  behind  the  lens,  and  the 
entire  flock  jumped  into  the  air.  The 
few  ashore  waddled  into  the  water,  and 
all  sped  away,  whistling  as  merrily  as  a 
crowd  of  schoolboys.  Even  if  this  bird 
does  eat  a  morning  fish,  the  wild  rice  and 
wild  celery  keep  him  fair  for  the  table. 
These  were   October  days,   crisp   and 


DECOYING    TIIK    (JOLDEX-EYE 


527 


clear,  with  golden-yellow  rice  beds  about 
us  and  green  cedar-clad  islands  in  their 
midst,  while  all  the  shores  around  were 
brilliant  wdth  the  scarlet  hues  of  the 
autumn.  From  the  "hides"  in  the  rice 
beds,  from  the  protruding  points  of  the 
islands,  from  the  deep  bays,  came  a  long, 
continual  booming  and  cracking  of  guns. 
Every  innocent-looking  bit  of  cover  held 
danger  for  the  whistling  flocks.  The 
birds  were  massed  across  the  entrances  of 
the  deep  bays,  flying  from  bay  to  bay  and 
crossing  the  points  en  route,  skirting  the 
long  rice  beds  amid 
lake,  drawing  a  steady 
fire  all  along  the  line. 
They  were  after  gravel, 
and  this  needed  digest- 
ive material  was  in  the 
most  dangerous  spots 
for  the  birds.  Our  de- 
coys bobbed  in  the 
light  waves  off  a  point 
on  the  north  shore, 
and  we  were  using  the 
rich  high  note  "quack" 
to  call  the  birds.  We 
often  inserted  a 
"creek,"  their  spring 
love-making  call;  but 
it  only  aroused  curi- 
osity, the  passing  birds 
w'ould  turn  their  heads 
from  side  to  side 
wondering  what  "bally 
fool"  of  a  whistle-wing 
was  seeking  a  mate 
these  cold  fall  days. 
The  low  "purrit"  of 
the  blue-bill  often  turned  them,  and  a 
pebble  thrown  splashing  amongthe  decoys, 
completed  the  deception.  We  also  had  a 
line  passed  through  an  anchor  and  up  to 
the  screw-eye  in  the  breast  of  a  big  white 
decoy,  and  its  answering  dives  were 
marvels  of  attraction. 

"Look!"  My  assistant  grasped  my 
arm  and  whispered  shrilly.  Unseen,  un- 
noticed, a  whistler  had  swum  into  the 
decoys.  Diving  and  feeding,  he  had 
entered  stealthily,  as  these  birds  often  do. 
We  pictured  him  and  let  him  wing  away 
uninjured,  as  a  photographed  bird  is 
always  safe  with  us.     The  wind  fell,  and 


SHOT  .\XD  PHOTOGR. 
— A   CLEVER 


the  flight  increased  as  the  Indians  put  out 
into  the  calm  lake  to  troll,  for  ncjw  cameras 
were  discarded  and  the  open  shell  bo.xes 
took  the  place  of  the  film  supply  boxes. 
On  the  still  clear  air  we  could  hear  the 
musical  notes  of  the  merry-wing,  as  they 
call  this  handsome  black  and  white,  yel- 
low-eyed, yellow-footed  bird  in  some 
places  on  the  Atlantic  coast.  The  birds 
flew  straight  for  the  point,  and  as  it  is  well 
to  never  call  a  sure  in-comer,  we  were 
silent.  With  a  screeching  whistle  the  big 
drakes  would  circle  to  the  wind  and  fan 
over  the  decoys  in 
easy  range.  Once  we 
dropped  so  fine  a  speci- 
men that  I  jumped  in- 
to the  canoe  and  hast- 
ily paddled  out  to  kill 
the  poor  wounded  bird 
and  examine  it.  It  lay 
on  its  back  stunned, 
with  its  reddish-yellow 
feet  uppermost.  I 
placed  my  hand  on 
the  feet  to  grasp  them; 
there  w-as  a  rapid 
muscular  pressure 
from  the  bird,  and 
down  it  dived.  As 
far  as  we  have  seen, 
it  has  not  come  up  yet. 
Skillful,  clever  divers 
they  are.  I  have  fol- 
lowed them  when  they 
were  wounded  for  an 
hour  at  a  time  on  a 
perfectly  clear  lake, 
sitting  in  the  canoe  with 
gun  held  to  shoulder,  ready  to  fire  at  the 
bubbling  splash  of  the  head's  appearance, 
and  have  finally  lost  the  bird.  A  Missis- 
sauga  duck  hunter  once  said :  "  Fire  when 
you  see  them."  He  was  right.  They  must 
come  up  for  breath,  even  if  the  clever  bird 
only  does  allow  the  tip  of  the  bill  to  be 
seen  while  getting  it,  and  a  shot  from  out 
of  range  disturbs  him  in  the  act.  A 
couple  of  wasted  shots  allows  one  to  pad- 
dle close  enough  to  end  the  misery  of  the 
wounded  bird.  It  is  a  matter  of  sadness 
to  us  ever}^  fall  to  think  of  the 
poor  web-footed  ones  that  escape  in  sadly 
wounded    condition    and    linger    on    as 


.\PHED    BY  MR.   D.\LE 
PERFORMANCE 


528 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


GOOSANDERS    FLVIXG    OUT    OF    DECOYS 


tempting  food  for  mink  or  fox,  duck- 
hawk,  or  even  crow,  and  should  they  pass 
through  these  perils  there  are  the  freezing 
nights  of  November  ahead,  when  all  their 
waning  strength  will  not  keep  open  the 
rapidly  closing  icehole.  We  have  watched 
them  coming  up  from  beneath  the  decoys, 
when  a  double  shot  has  rung  out  while 
part  of  the  birds  were  diving,  aided  by 
kicking  feet  and  wings.  Actually  flying 
under  water  they  emerge  and  leap  into 
the  air  with  a  last  kick  against  the  surface. 
Now  comes  the  strangeness  of  the  whist- 
ling noise.  Up,  up  they  mount,  sounding 
the  notes  from  the  very  instant  they  leave 
the  water,  and  we  can  trace  them  long 
after  the  birds  are  lost  to  sight  by  the 
clear,  shrill  sound.  Again  we  see  them 
coming  as  this  handsome  drake  we  pic- 
tured, straight  for  the  decoys,  wings  fan- 
ning rapidly  without  the  slightest  noise. 
This  drake  set  his  broad  wings  and  fell 
for  the  decoys  just  as  the  camera  clicked. 
Instantly  he  saw  us,  swerved  on  his  course 
and  went  away  down  the  lake  whistling 
as  clear  as  ever  golden-eye  did.  My  only 
explanation  is  that  the  noise  is  made  by 
the  bugle-like  windpipe,  possible  only 
when  the  wings  are  in  motion,  but  which 
can  be  stopped  at  will  while  in  flight. 
The  bird  cannot  whistle  when  on  water. 
We  had  dropped  a  dozen  birds,  fairly 
well  killed,  without  a  miss.  It  was  easy 
shooting,  and  we  felt  good;  yes,  and  we 
felt  confident.  I  am  inclined  to  think 
Fritz  felt  a  little  puflFed  up.  "Quack, 
quack,"  he  signalled  me — two  birds  com- 
ing in.  We  put  our  guns  to  the  shoulder 
before  they  were  nearly  within  range,  an 
old  and  a  good  habit,  too,  as  the  bird  is 
not  then  startled  out  of  its  regular  flight 
by  two  men  bobbing  up  suddenly  be- 
fore it.     With  a  long,  graceful  curve  they 


covered   the   decoys. 
"  Bang,  bang,"  sang 
the  guns.   Along  sped 
the    birds.       "Bang, 
bang,"  with  sharp  in- 
sistency repeated  the 
guns.    Unchecked, 
unharmed,  the  ducks 
completed  the  curve. 
Unhurried  they  took 
up  their  straight  on- 
ward flight. 
"Ah-tuhyah,    bully    good    shot    that," 
sounded  scornfully  on  our  ears,  and  Hawk, 
the  Indian  guide,  silently  glided  around 
the  point. 

Why  is  it  that  all  the  fine,  clean  shots 
are  made  unwitnessed,  but  the  miserable 
flukes  invariably  occur  when  the  other 
fellow  is  about  ? 

We  were  intensely  interested  while  eat- 
ing lunch  by  visiting  ducks.  Do  you 
know,  I  think  they  choose  for  coming,  the 
moment  you  have  the  tin  platter  on  your 
knee,  the  cup  in  one  hand  and  a  very  soft- 
boiled  egg  in  the  other.  Of  course,  every- 
thing goes  by  the  board— butter,  soft  side 
down,  in  the  only  sandy  spot  for  yards 
around,  and  you  miss  the  bird  and  blame 
it  on  the  gun,  or  the  cushion,  or  anything 
but  yourself.  I  always  work  it  off  on  my 
assistant.  He  is  meek;  and  as  we  have 
a  rule  that  only  one  can  get  mad  in  this 
camp  at  a  time,  we  wriggle  along  very 
nicely.  There  we  sat,  two  white  men, 
with  a  redman  in  the  centre  for  variety, 
our  mouths  full,  our  hands  as  we  were 
caught  in  the  act  of  feeding,  maintaining 
uncomfortable  positions,  like  so  many 
scarecrows,  all  because  a  couple  of  whist- 
lers had  settled  in  near  the  decoys,  yet  out 
of  range,  and  were  carefully  scanning  the 
three  odd  objects  on  the  shore.  We  kept 
up  this  mutual  observation  game  for  two 
full  minutes,  then  after  we  had  suffered 
untold  pains  and  cramps,  the  birds  jumped 
up  and  flew  away,  and  we  resumed  our 
meal  gloomily. 

^^'hen  the  pipes  were  going,  we  spied  a 
large  flock  of  goosanders  and  their  accom- 
panying flock  of  gulls.  The  big,  richly- 
coloured  drakes,  with  their  red  bills  and 
shining  red  eyes  set  in  a  head  of  velvet 
green,  were  diving  along  in  chase  of  a 
fleeing  school  of  minnows;  down  like  a 


LOVE'S    WHISPER 


529 


signalled  line  all  the  big  white  birds  dived, 
leaving  the  lately  crowded  spot  empty. 
Above  the  water,  rippled  by  their  dive, 
hung  or  swung  on  great  wings  many  white 
and  gray  gulls,  calling  in  sharp,  insistent 
notes  for  those  fisher-ducks  below  to 
hurry  up.  Pop-up  darts  a  red  and  green 
head  with  a  struggling  shiner  in  the 
mouth.  Like  a  flash  the  hovering  gull 
nearest  has  upset  and  fallen  straight  and 
sure  at  the  fish,  snatched  the  struggling 
shiner  and  swallowed  it  in  a  trice.  A  pair 
of  these  diicks,  seeking  to  escape  the  un- 
welcome gulls,  jumped  from  the  water 
and  flew  our  way,  splashing  down  into 
the  decoys  with  the  wind.  These  passed 
rapidly  from  decoy  to  decoy,  examining 
these  strange  birds,  and  as  they  were  not 
repulsed,  as  is  their  usual  fate  when  they 
get  among  the  better  class  of  ducks,  they 
settled  to  oiling  and  preening  themselves, 
reaching  the  brilliant  red  bill  back  to  the 
oil  teat  above  the  tail  and  deftly  oiling  it 
and  wiping  the  oil  on  to  the  feathers. 
Then  they  dived.  I  WTiggled  into  the 
bough-house  and  seized  the  camera. 
They  saw  me  sitting  there  waiting  for 


their  picture  and  up  they  jumped  in  a 
cloud  of  spray,  giving  me  a  view  of  bird 
and  upthrown  water  in  excellent  shape. 
Then  the  whole  flock  dived,  or  flew  or 
swam  past,  and  we  took  a  shot  and  got  a 
pair  with  the  camera.  We  do  not  kill 
these  fish-eaters  or  any  birds  that  are  un- 
fit for  the  table;  so  if  you  should  visit  me 
and  were  unkind  enough  to  kill  a  crow,  I 
would  firmly,  but  politely,  request  you  to 
eat  it.  We  should  not  wilfully,  needlessly 
kill  anything  in  this  beautiful  world. 

Now  the  perfect  day  was  drawing  to  a 
close;  the  Mississauga  had  more  ducks 
than  he  needed.  Our  last  shot  at  a  high 
overhead  duck  sent  it  sweeping  in  a  long 
angle  for  the  lake,  dead  ere  it  touched  the 
water,  which  it  sent  splashing  high  above 
its  rebounding  body.  So  we  tied  our 
birds  in  pairs,  tied  them  in  the  old-time 
Indian  way  (just  a  pair  of  w'ing-feathers 
knotted  through  the  bills);  smoothed 
down  the  rufiied  plumage  of  each  glossy 
drake,  or  modestly  clad  brown  and  gray 
duck,  kicked  out  the  last  remaining  ember, 
and  with  half  a  dozen  pictures  and  a  dozen 
ducks,  paddled  rapidly  homeward. 


Love's  Whisper 

BY   DON,\LD    A.   FRASER 

TT  came  Hke  the  breath  of  an  opening  rose, 

Like  the  fall  of  a  summer  shower, 
Sweet'ning  and  fresh'ning  life's  weary  way 
With  its  subtle  and  magic  power. 

All  nature  assumed  a  more  glorious  tint ; 

And  the  bird's  sweetest  notes  outrang; 
The  sun  smiled  warm,  and  the  breeze  blew  soft. 

While  the  brooklet  more  gailv  sang. 


And  what  was  the  charm  that  had  worked  the  change 

With  a  wonder  all  charms  above? 
Oh,  listen!  I'll  tell  you  the  secret  true: 

'Twas  the  first  gentle  whisper  of  love. 


Uncle  Tom's  Prototype 


By  WILLIAM  HARRISON 

Appendix  by  J .  C.  Hamilton 


Remarkable   story   0}   Lemuel   Page,  a    negro  who  fled  from 
slavery  and  for  muny  years  lived  happily  in  Canada 


;MERICAN  Negro  Slavery 
happily  no  longer  exists,  but 
the  records  of  its  "  inhuman- 
ity to  man"  will  echo  down 
the  ages  to  the  end  of  time. 


A  number  of  years  ago  the  writer,  on  a 
visit  to  a  relative  in  one  of  our  northern 
townships,  went  by  stage  from  the  town- 
ship of  Osprey  to  the  town  of  CoUingwood. 
It  was  on  a  beautiful  summer  day.  The 
road  was  splendid,  and  the  stage,  an  open 
conveyance,  was  well  filled  with  passengers. 
Among  us  was  a  well-dressed,  intellectual- 
looking,  white-headed  coloured  man  of 
pleasing  manners,  who  entertained  the 
company  by  his  sage  and  oftentimes  witty 
remarks.  To  relieve  the  tedium  of  the 
journey  one  of  the  passengers  suggested 
that  he  give  us  his  history,  to  which  he 
assented.  On  my  arrival  home  I  trans- 
mitted the  narrative  from  memory  to 
manuscript.  Recently  with  other  old 
papers  I  was  about  to  consign  it  to  the 
flames,  but  on  second  thought  spared  it 
for  a  little  longer  lease  of  life.  It  may 
help  to  fill  a  leisure  moment. 

The  story  will  be  given  in  our  fellow- 
passenger's  own  words. 

"I  was  born  in  the  State  of  Vermont. 
I  did  not  know  my  parents.  My  earliest 
recollections  are  of  a  family  of  the  name 
of  Page,  who  took  care  of  me  and  treated 
me  kindly.  My  guardian  was  a  rigid 
Presbyterian  and  was,  I  believe,  a  good 
man.  When  I  could  not  go  to  church, 
Mr.  Page's  mother  would  take  me  into 
her  room  and  teach  me  by  word  of  mouth 
many  things  that  are  in  the  Bible,  such  as, 
who  was  the  first  man,  who  was  the  oldest 
man,  and  who  was  the  wisest  man,  giving 
me  at  the  same  time  much  good  advice. 
A  gentleman  who  lived  near  by  also  took 
much  notice  of  me,  and  often  invited  me 

530 


to  his  home,  but  the  young  ladies,  his 
daughters,  would  not  suffer  me  to  come 
near  the  house,  because  I  was  not  as 
white  as  they  were. 

"A  man  of  the  name  of  Gould,  of  York 
State,  used  to  come  occasionally  on  a 
visit  to  the  Page  family,  and  as  it  was  my 
duty  to  wait  on  visitors,  I  was  frequently 
with  him,  and  little  chats  often  took  p  ace 
between  us.  Gould  frequently  asked  me 
if  I  would  like  to  live  with  him.  At  first 
I  refused,  but  by  continued  kindness  and 
gifts  of  candies,  oranges,  etc.,  I  began  to 
listen  to  him,  and  finally  consented  to  go. 
When  we  arrived  at  his  place  I  found  that 
it  was  a  hotel.  He  used  me  very  kindly 
for  several  days.  Being  of  a  good-natured 
disposition,  I  generally  contrived  to  please 
those  on  whom  I  waited,  and  grew  rather 
fond  of  the  landlord.  One  day,  soon  after 
I  began  to  feel  at  home  in  my  new  quarters, 
my  old  master  came  on  a  visit  to  Gould's. 
He  was  not  long  there  before  I  became  the 
subject  of  their  conversation.  Gould 
asked  Page  if  he  would  turn  me  over  to 
him.  Page  said  he  would  do  nothing 
without  my  consent.  I  was  called  in  and 
on  considerable  coaxing  on  the  part  of 
Gould  I  was  induced  to  agree  to  it.  The 
writings  were  drawn  up  and  signed.  In 
other  words,  I  was  sold. 

"  From  that  day,  to  me  Gould  was  aa 
entirelv  dift'erent  man.  He  did  not  abuse 
me,  but  I  had  to  put  up  with  much  hard- 
ships from  my  master's  family.  He  set 
the  example  of  ill-treatment  and  they  fol- 
lowed it.  This,  however,  did  not  last 
the  whole  time  that  I  was  at  the  hotel.  A 
circumstance  arose  which  lessened  the 
rigour  with  which  I  was  treated  to  some 
e.xtent.  Gould  had  several  children,  some  ; 
very  young  and  one  grown  up  to  man- 
hood.    He  had  also  an  adopted  son  called 


UNCLE    TOM'S   PROTOTYPE 


531 


Lyman  Holly,  who  turned  out  to  be  a  wild, 
reckless  young  fellow.  Sometime  before 
I  went  to  live  at  the  hotel  Lyman  had  be- 
come connected  with  a  company  of  smug- 
glers who  carried  on  unlawful  operations 
between  the  States  and  Canada  a  short 
time  before  the  war  of  1812.  The  author- 
ities of  the  American  government  had 
determined  to  put  a  stop  to  the  business. 
A  party  of  smugglers  were  discovered  and 
hotly  pursued.  Among  them  was  Lyman 
Holly.  A  toll-gate  keeper,  seeing  a  num- 
ber of  men  on  horseback  apyjroaching 
rapidly  and  suspecting  them  to  be  outlaws 
in  retreat,  shut  the  gate.  The  smugglers 
came  on  with  a  dash,  breaking  open  the 
gate.  In  the  melee  the  gate-keeper  was 
shot  and  with  his  dying  breath  uttered 
the  name  of  Lyman  Holly.  The  murderer 
meantime  escaped.  Detectives  were  sent 
in  all  directions,  but  the  search  was  un- 
successful. 

"The  house  which  was  then  used  by 
Gould  as  an  hotel  was  originally  built  as 
a  residence  after  the  old  country  fashion, 
by  a  gentleman  of  the  last  century,  whose 
ideas  of  architecture  were  far  from  modern. 
The  walls  and  ceilings  of  the  best  rooms 
were  covered  with  panelled  oak  and  fin- 
ished in  antique  design.  The  windows 
were  small  and  the  only  way  of  distinguish- 
ing the  doors  was  by  the  knobs  and  latches 
on  certain  panels.  These  panels  were 
made  movable  to  make  larger  or  smaller 
rooms  and  fitted  together  so  neatly  as  to 
be  unnoticed  by  a  careless  observer. 

"Part  of  my  duty,  as  I  was  to  make 
myself  generally  useful,  was  to  wait  on 
the  girls  in  the  kitchen,  fetch,  carry,  etc. 
On  one  occasion  one  of  the  girls  sent  me 
for  some  preserves  in  a  certain  cupboard. 
While  I  was  in  the  closet,  it  being  dark,  I 
noticed  a  crack  between  two  of  the  panels 
■  through  which  a  light  shone.  I  had  the 
.  curiosity  to  climb  up  and  look  through. 
In  the  middle  of  a  small  room  sat  a  man. 
On  his  moving  a  little  the  light  shone  on 
his  face.  It  was  Lyman  Holly.  Prior 
to  this  I  had  noticed  on  the  roof  of  the 
house  a  skylight,  but  I  could  never  find 
out  to  which  of  the  rooms  it  conveyed  light. 
The  mystery  was  now  unravelled.  I  de- 
termined to  say  nothing  about  it,  yet  I 
was  so  excited  by  the  knowledge  so  ac- 


cidentally obtained  that  I  scarcely  knew 
what  I  was  doing.  One  day  I  incurred 
the  anger  oi  one  of  the  girls  who  gave  me 
a  slap  in  the  mouth.  In  a  passion  I  said, 
'  If  you  don't  let  me  alone  I  will  tell  about 
Lyman  Holly.'  The  girls  stared,  but 
thinking  it  was  a  childish  rage,  passed  it 
off  with  a  laugh,  and  it  was  forg(jtten. 
Some  time  after  a  similar  burst  of  passion 
led  to  similar  results,  but  its  effects  were 
of  a  more  lasting  character. 

"One  or  more  of  Gould's  family  had 
been  guilty  of  theft.  They  had  been  to 
the  closet  previously  mentioned,  and  the 
jars  were  lighter  in  consequence.  They 
were  all  brought  up  before  the  father, 
myself  among  the  number.  By  this  time 
guilty  or  not  guilty,  if  there  was  any  pos- 
sibility of  placing  the  blame  on  me,  I  had 
to  take  the  responsibility.  I  w'as  charged 
with  the  theft.  Gould  looked  at  me  and 
began  to  prepare  the  whip.  I  told  him  I 
did  not  take  it.  He  thought  that  I  was 
adding  falsehood  to  the  crime,  and  laid 
hold  of  me  to  apply  the  lash.  I  felt  in- 
dignant at  being  whipped  for  a  crime 
which,  through  the  teachings  of  Mr. 
Page's  family,  I  thoroughly  detested,  and 
knew  myself  to  be  honest.  I  also  knew 
that  George  Gould's  eldest  son  was  the 
criminal,  and  that  I  had  often  remon- 
strated with  him  for  being  guilty  in  this 
respect. 

"It  was  not  to  be  wondered  at  that 
Gould's  family  were  such  as  they  were. 
He  was  horse  trader,  and  perhaps  a  horse 
thief,  as  horses  were  frequently  brought 
to  the  stables  and  their  appearance  so 
changed  that  when  they  came  out  they 
would  not  be  known  by  their  owners. 
Just  as  Gould  was  about  to  bring  down 
the  lash,  I  could  hold  no  longer  and  said, 
'If  you  whip  me,  I  will  tell  where  Lyman 
Holly  is.'  His  arm  was  staid  in  a  moment. 
He  pretended  to  be  softened  by  my  tears, 
and  began  to  again  question  the  children. 
By  their  contradictor}'^  answers  he  found 
that  I  was  innocent. 

"  A  day  or  two  afterwards  Gould  came 
to  me  in  the  garden  and  asked  me  what 
I  knew  about  Lyman  Holly.  I  did  not 
give  him  any  satisfaction.  Before  he  left 
me  he  said  that  if  I  ever  said  anything 
about  Lyman  Holly  that  I  w^ould  never 


532 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


be  seen  afterwards.  This  I  dreaded  be- 
fore he  threatened,  and  so  did  not^ay 
much. 

"A  week  after  the  conversation  in  the 
garden  I  missed  Holly  from  the  secret 
hiding  place. 

"One  day  Gould  said  to  me,  'Lemy,' 
(my  name  is  Lemuel),  'Lemy,'  said  he, 
*  how  would  you  like  to  take  the  bays  and 
Mr.  Jones  and  me  for  a  trip  to  Lake 
Champlain?'  Having  had  much  to  do 
with  horses,  I  was  rather  an  expert  driver, 
and  the  two  bays  made  a  splendid  team. 
One  of  these  horses  properly  belonged  to 
me,  as  it  was  left  to  me  by  a  deceased 
relative  of  Gould's  on  his  death-bed,  for 
my  care  of  him  during  his  illness.  Gould 
bought  a  match  for  him,  and  from  that 
day  considered  both  his  own.  They  were 
sold  on  this  trip,  of  course,  to  his  ad- 
vantage. 

"A\"hen  we  reached  Champlain,  I  was 
introduced  to  my  master's  oldest  son,  whose 
name  I  had  frequently  heard  mentioned 
at  home.  The  young  man,  whom  I  sub- 
sequently learned  was  a  fugitive  from 
justice  for  the  crime  of  forgery,  was  in 
partnership  with  one  Captain  Ross,  a 
very  wild  young  fellow,  who  had  robbed 
his  father  of  a  large  sum  of  money,  .with 
which  he  had  built  the  sloop  of  which  he 
was  in  command.  Captain  Ross  and 
young  Gould  treated  me  very  kindly  and 
seemed  to  take  a  great  interest  in  me. 
When  the  vessel  was  loaded  they  took  me 
to  see  the  sloop.  After  walking  about  on 
deck  for  a  while,  Ross  took  me  down  into 
the  cabin  and  amused  me  by  showing  me 
many  curiosities.  When  we  went  again 
on  deck  I  found  that  we  were  under  sail 
and  that  the  shore  was  fast  disappearing 
from  sight.  I  began  to  cry  and  begged 
to  be  set  ashore.  As  bad  as  the  past  had 
been  to  me,  I  knew  the  worst.  I  dreaded 
an  unknown  future  among  strangers.  My 
grief  was  so  violent  that  Ross  pitied  me, 
and  by  way  of  consolation  told  me'  that  he 
was  not  taking  me  for  himself,  but  for 
one  Col.  Bissle  in  the  army,  and  that  I 
would  have  a  good  time.  When  we 
landed  I  was  handed  over  to  Col.  Bissle. 
Then  I  found  that  I  had  again  been  sold 
as  a  slave  and  bought  as  such.  I  had 
often  heard  of  freedom  and  longed  to  get 
there,  but  all  mv  efforts  to  free  mvself 


were  of  no  avail.     I  had  no  one  to  help  me. 

"Col.  Bissle,  my  new  master,  who  at 
this  time  was  residing  in  Kentucky,  came 
from  Louisiana.  He  was  a  large  slave- 
holder and  speculator  in  slaves.  His 
treatment  of  his  recent  purchases  was 
oftentimes  harsh  and  cruel.  Though  I 
tried  to  do  the  best  of  my  ability,  many 
failures  brought  me  many  whippings  and 
my  lacerated  back  and  shoulders  caused 
me  many  a  sleepless  night. 

"About  this  time  war  broke  out  be- 
tween Great  Britain  and  the  United 
States — the  war  of  1812.  Col.  Bissle  and 
his  company  were  ordered  to  the  front. 
I  noticed  that  the  American  army  were  a 
long  time  getting  together,  and  when  a 
number  were  in  camp  there  were  perpetual 
disputes  among  the  officers. 

"Quite  a  large  force  were  now  gathered 
under  Izzard,  Scott,  Brown  and  other 
officers  and  active  steps  were  taken  to  in- 
vade Canada.  The  Americans,  some- 
how, were  very  unfortunate,  being  fre- 
quently defeated  in  their  sorties  and  minor 
engagements,  owing,  I  think,  to  their  lack 
of  unanimity.  I  was  in  camp  when  a 
dispute  arose  between  Izzard  and  Lamond 
about  the  order  of  battle.  Lamond 
charged  Izzard  with  being  too  slow.  The 
quarrel  grew  so  hot  between  the  two 
officers  that  they  drew  swords,  but  their 
aids  separated  them.  Lamond  called  the 
other  officers  aside  and  asked  if  they 
would  break  or  disobey  orders.  They 
said.  No!  Izzard  was  the  superior  officer 
and  they  would  obey  him  as  long  as  he 
was  in  command.  Lamond  said  he  would 
then.  He  placed  his  soldiers  in  proper 
quarters  and  left  for  Washington.  There 
he  presented  his  complaint  and  promised 
if  promoted  to  take  up  his  winter  quarters 
in  Toronto.  He  came  back  Izzard's  suc- 
cessor. 

"My  duty  was  to  take  care  of  the 
Colonel's  markee  or  tent,  a  responsibility 
not  very  great  when  properly  attended  to. 
At  Buffalo  Col.  Bissle  kept  company  with 
one  Capt.  Camp.  They  seemed  to  be 
very  intimate  friends  and  spent  their  I 
evenings  together. 

"During  this  period  I  had  much  til 
to  myself,  and  in  talking  to  others  I 
often  asked  where  I  came  from,  what  re- 1 
lation  was  I  to  my  master,  wafe  I  hired  or 


UNCLE   TOM'S    PRDTOTYPE 


535 


a  slave.  I  said  that  I  was  a  slave.  They 
told  me  that  I  was  in  a  free  State,  that  my 
master  could  not  hold  me  if  I  did  not 
choose  to  permit  him,  but  at  the  same 
time  informed  me  that  there  was  no  use 
asserting  my  rights  there  as  they  would 
only  send  me  further  back  to  the  slave 
States  to  secure  me.  The  knowledge  I 
had  obtained  I  kept  to  myself,  determined 
to  escape  across  to  Canada  the  first  op- 
portunity. Something  in  my  actions,  how- 
ever, made  the  Colonel  suspicious,  so  to 
try  me  he  said:  '  Lemy,  you  must  get  your- 
self ready  to  go  home.'  'Homel'  said  I, 
with  the  same  imprudence  which  had 
often  brought  me  into  trouble  before,  'I 
have  no  objections  to  go  home,  but  it 
must  not  be  out  of  York  State.  Bissle 
immediately  became  very  angry.  That 
night  I  was  staked  at  the  gambling  table 
and  lost.  Capt.  Camp  was  now  my 
master,  and  I  was  taken  from  the  markee 
to  his  house  in  Buffalo. 

"  Camp  was  a  man  who  had  many  good 
traits  in  his  character,  but  treated  any 
neglect  of  duty  with  great  severity,  and  I 
must  say  that  he  was  as  rigorous  with  his 
soldiers  as  he  was  with  me.  Colour  made 
no  difference  with'him.  I  have  known  him 
to  order  soldiers  who  had  been  charged  with 
drinking  or  disorderly  conduct  up  before 
his  own  door  and  unmercifully  flogged,  he 
directing  the  blows.  The  soldiers  used  to 
say  that  when  Capt.  Camp  got  up  in  the 
morning  cursing  and  swearing  there  was 
no  danger,  but  when  he  came  down  from 
his  house  whistling  and  singing,  some- 
body had  to  take  a  licking.  Most  of  his 
cruelty  was  when  he  was  in  a  towering 
passion,  when  he  lost  control  of  himself 
— then  he  seemed  to  glory  in  severity. 

"My  fellow-servants  were  a  coloured 
man  named  Sam  and  a  boy  about  my 
own  age — fourteen  years — both  from  the 
State  of  Virginia.  Sam  was  a  good,  kind 
man;  his  whole  aim  seemed  to  be  to 
please  our  master,  by  whom  he  was  well 
thought  of.  Bob,  on  the  contrary,  was 
the  worst  boy  I  ever  met  with.  He  would 
disobey,  lie,  run  away,  be  caught  again, 
be  severely  flogged,  and  do  the  same  thing 
again.  He  really  deserved  all  he  got.  I 
could  not  help  pitying  him.  I  had  fre- 
quently to  dress  his  back,  to  draw  the 
shirt  out  of  the  furrows  made  by  the  lash, 


clean  off  the  blood  and  bits  of  flesh 
whipjjed  up,  and  grease  the  shirt  to  pre- 
vent it  sticking  to  his  shoulders.  I  said 
to  him  one  day:  'Bob,  it  is  certainly  a 
very  strange  thing  that  you  act  as  you  do 
when  you  might  have  better  times  by 
being  better,' and  wound  up  with  the  re- 
mark that  I  could  tell  him  something  if  I 
dare.  He  promised  to  keep  my  secret. 
I  told  him  I  knew  of  a  plan  by  which  he 
could  get  entirely  away,  but  he  was  to 
promise  that  in  case  of  failure  he  would 
never  tell  where  he  got  his  information. 
He  agreed  to  it.  Then  I  told  him  about 
Canada.  Once  among  the  Canadians,  I 
said,  and  you  are  free.  But,  says  Bob, 
they  will  kill  me,  master  said  so.  I  said 
he  said  so  to  frighten  us,  but  in  my  heart 
I  was  as  much  scared  on  that  point  as  he, 
for  we  were  always  taught  that  the  Can- 
adians and  the  Indians  were  equally  blood- 
thirsty and  that  they  tomahawked  and 
scalped  without  mercy  every  black  man. 

"A  night  or  two  after  Bob's  back  was 
healed  he  was  missing.  Parties  were  sent 
out  in  pursuit,  but  this  time  their  search 
was  fruitless.  In  the  evening  Camp  came 
to  me  and  said  that  poor  Bob  was  drowned. 
.'Poor  fellow,'  said  I,  'he  should  not  have 
run  away.'  'He  was  a  very  wicked  boy,' 
said  Camp.  'I  hope  that  will  set  a  better 
example.'     'Yes,  sir,'  said  I. 

"  About  this  time  some  of  the  regiments 
were  ordered  to  take  the  field.  The 
Americans  now,  by  additions  made  re- 
cently, were  many  thousands  strong,  and 
orders  were  sent  down  from  headquarters 
to  invade  Canada.  Gen.  Brown,  learn- 
ing that  the  British  army  was  divided  in 
three  parts,  two  in  camp  and  one  to  man 
the  batteries,  determined  to  attack  the 
batteries,  rout  and  destroy  those  in  pos- 
session. An  attack  was  made;  Camp 
and  his  regiment  were  in  the  party.  The 
Canadians  were  ready  for  us  with  many 
guns  concealed.  When  the  attacking 
party  was  close  up  they  fired.  This  broke 
our  ranks,  and  a  galling  fire  from  the  bat- 
teries completed  the  rout.  Camp  was 
neither  killed  nor  wounded.  His  idea  of 
military  tactics  was  self-preservation,  con- 
sequently he  had  posted  himself  in  a  posi- 
tion where  he  was  out  of  danger.  It 
mattered  not  how  thick  the  bullets  flew, 
he  kept  me  going  to  and  fro  as  hard  as  I 


534 


THE   CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


could  ride  with  despatches  to  the  officers 
under  his  command. 

In  another  part  of  the  field  my  old 
master,  Col.  Bissle,  a  brave  man,  made 
an  attack  with  about  a  thousand  men  on 
an  attachment  consisting  of  over  a  thou- 
sand soldiers  imder  the  Marquis  of  Twee- 
dale,  an  aide-de-camp  of  the  Duke  of 
Wellington,  and  gained  the  victory.  Dur- 
ing this  skirmish  Gen.  McClure,  who  rode 
a  beautiful  animal,  was  unhorsed,  a 
cannon  ball  cutting  off  both  forelegs  of 
the  mare.  I  was  ordered  to  go  for  the 
saddle  and  bridle.  As  I  went,  the  bullets 
were  flying  in  all  directions.  I  had  un- 
buckled the  saddle  and  bridle,  but  while 
loosing  the  martingale  a  rifle  ball  struck 
me  in  the  calf  of  my  leg.  I  dropped  the 
articles  and  ran,  but  soon  fainted  from 
loss  of  blood.  When  I  opened  my  eyes 
again,  I  found  myself  in  the  hospital  with 
the  dead  and  dying.  Fortunately  the 
ball  was  a  spent  one,  so  that  its  effects 
were  not  so  serious.  After  it  was  cut  out 
I  soon  regained  strength. 

"Shortly  after  I  resumed  duty,  I  offend- 
ed Camp  by  a  trifling  neglect.  He  seized 
the  whip  and  came  at  me  in  a  perfect 
fury.  I  ran  from  the  tent,  passed  the 
guards  and  made  for  the  woods,  my 
master  in  hot  pursuit.  I  had  reached  the 
picket  and  was  about  to  pass  when  the 
man  said, 'Stop!  Lemy!  Stop!  You  know 
I  am  bound  to  fire!'  I  halted.  Camp 
was  on  me  in  a  minute.  My  clothes  were 
stripped  off,  I  was  tied  up  by  my  thumbs 
to  a  tree,  so  that  my  toes  just  touched  the 
ground.  Camp  himself  laid  on  the  lash 
until  he  wore  it  up,  then  he  got  a  waggon 
whip  and  laid  on  until  the  blood  ran  down 
into  my  boots.  I  was  ready  to  quit  long 
before  he  was.  As  he  continued  to  flog 
I  lost  all  feeling,  each  blow  seeming  like  a 
little  stream  of  warm  water  poured  down 
my  back.  This  was  the  hardest  beating 
I  ever  had,  and  as  the  regiment  had  to 
remove  to  another  station,  I  had  to  ride 
over  rough  roads  for  two  weeks,  my  raw 
back  putting  me  in  continued  torment; 
there  was  agony  in  every  jolt. 

"At  this  time  Gehs.  Brown  and  Porter 
united,  and  made  an  attack  on  Fort  Erie. 
The  garrison  surrendered  after  a  sturdy 
resistance.  The  British  were  determined 
to  recapture  the  Fort  and  made  an  ad- 


vance in  three  columns,  one  of  which  suc- 
ceeded in  scaling  the  wall,  when  an  ex- 
plosion took  place  that  blew  some  of  both 
parties  into  the  air.  After  the  repulse  of 
the  British,  both  armies  were  for  a  long 
time  in  a  state  of  inactivity.  Camp  lived 
in  his  own  house  in  Buffalo. 

"Being  a  boy  of  all  work,  I  had  to 
attend  to  a  variety  of  duties,  among  others 
that  of  cook.  Camp  on  one  occasion 
had  a  party,  to  which  a  number  of  officers 
and  other  guests  were  invited.  Hot  cakes 
were  the  order  of  the  evening,  and  Camp 
was  very  particular  in  having  them  hot 
from  the  oven  (a  dutch  oven).  I  made 
out  pretty  well  until  the  last  batch.  They 
were  called  for  before  I  was  quite  ready. 
The  wood  was  scarce.  I  broke  up  a 
picket  and  anything  else  I  could  get  hold 
of,  but  in  vain.  Camp  called  again. 
'Coming  in  a  minute,'  said  I,  but  the 
minute  was  long.  Out  came  Camp  in  a 
terrible  rage.  I  was  ordered  down  on 
my  knees,  the  shirt  was  torn  from  my 
back  and  the  lash  swinging  over  my  head. 

"Since  my  last  whipping,  which  had 
been  commented  on  rather  severely  by 
his  brother  officers,  my  master  had  become 
somewhat  unpopular.  General  McClure 
and  others  told  me  that  if  he  tried  it 
again  I  was  to  run  into  the  street,  and  if 
he  followed  they  would  catch  him  and 
pound  him.  I  did  not  run.  I  knew  I 
did  not  deserve  punishment.  I  noticed 
before  he  brought  down  the  lash  that  he 
hesitated.  Perhaps  he  thought  when  he 
saw  the  scars  on  my  back  of  what  he  had 
given  me  before.  I  told  him  that  the 
cause  of  delay  was  the  want  of  wood. 
The  charge  of  laziness  was  so  unjust  that 
I  felt  my  passion  rising.  I  felt  like  doing 
something  desperate  if  he  persisted  in 
flogging  me. 

"He  suddenly  let  go  of  me  and  went 
upstairs.  Quick  as  thought  I  was  after 
him.  I  heard  him  ask  his  wife  to  come 
down  and  plead  for  Lemy,  as  he  did  not 
want  to  beat  me.  W'hen  he  came  down 
I  was  kneeling  in  the  same  spot  waiting. 
His  wife  then  came  down  and  pleaded  for 
me.  Camp  said,  'Lem,  I  do  not  care  to 
beat  you,  but  you  have  broken  up  the 
party.'  One  after  another  of  the  guests 
had  quietly  slipped  away.  I  thought  they 
had  left  in  disgust  at  his  crueltv.     After 


UNCLE   TOM'S    PROTOTYPE 


535 


what  I  had  heard  about  being  in  a  free 
State,  I  began  to  feel  more  like  a  free  man; 
but  this  usage  put  Satan  into  my  heart, 
and  I  was  determined  that  if  there  was  no 
other  way  of  escape  to  shoot  him. 

"  One  day  I  was  in  the  armoury  (for 
Camp  was  quartermaster).  I  saw  a  pair 
of  little  pistols.  I  told  Sam  that  I  in- 
tended to  take  them  and  if  Camp  laid 
hands  on  me  I  would  shoot  him.  Sam 
said  that  I  had  better  let  them  alone  and 
not  talk  so  foolish.  I  pretended  to  take 
no  more  notice,  but  secreted  the  pistols 
when  Sam  was  looking  another  way.  The 
pistols  in  my  possession,  my  anger  still 
burning  and  being  young  in  years,  I 
harboured  the  thought  until  I  resolved  to 
do  it.  You  see,  gentlemen,  that  I  have 
lost  a  tooth  in  front.  The  loss  of  that 
tooth  saved  me  from  being  hanged  for 
murder. 

"  One  day  my  master's  back  being 
turned  toward  me,  I  raised  the  pistol  to 
fire.  Sam  saw  it,  and  in  a  moment 
caught  the  pistol  from  my  hand,  and  gave 
me  such  a  blow  in  the  mouth  that  I  went 
reeling  to  the  floor.  Camp  turned  round 
and  asked  the  cause  of  the  noise.  Sam 
said  that  I  had  tripped  over  his  foot  and 
fell.  I  was  always  thankful  that  Sam 
saved  me  from  a  dreadful  crime  and  from 
a  dreadful  death,  for  they  never  had  much 
pity  over  there  for  a  slave,  however  he  may 
be  driven  to  it,  who  breaks  the  law. 

"  I  now  made  up  my  mind  to  run  awa}' 
whatever  might  be  the  consequences. 
Camp's  house  was  situated  on  the  bank 
of  a  river.  A  short  distance  apart  were 
gunboats  which  I  did  not  think  safe  to 
pass,  so  I  resolved  to  go  up  the  river  and 
endeavour  to  get  across  to  Canada.  Hav- 
ing decided  on  the  night,  I  made  prepara- 
tions for  the  venture.  Something,  how- 
ever, that  I  had  done  began  to  raise  sus- 
picion. On  the  very  night  I  had  decided 
on,  Camp  came  into  my  room  about  ii 
o'clock  to  see  if  all  was  right.  I  pretended 
to  be  asleep.  He  passed  the  light  close 
over  my  eyes.  I  lay  perfectly  still  until 
he  went  down.  Camp's  bedroom  win- 
dow was  where  I  could  watch  it.  When 
the  light  was  out  I  took  my  only  spare 
shirt  and  descended  into  the  street.  It 
was  very  dark,  but  I  was  familiar  with  the 
road.     I    groped   my   way   to   the   river. 


where  I  knew  there  was  an  old  log  boat, 
which  I  got  into  and  silently  paddled  my 
way  to  a  canoe  that  I  had  often  used  to 
go  from  one  gunboat  to  another.  I 
started  for  the  opposite  shore.  It  w;.s  so 
dark  that  I  lost  my  way  and  was  in  fear  of 
landing  on  the  wrong  side.  I  put  my 
hand  over  the  side  of  the  canoe  and  found 
that  I  was  sailing  with  the  current.  I 
then  turned  the  canoe  across  and  rowed 
until  I  struck  a  rock,  nearly  upset  and 
shipped  considerable  water.  I  thought 
that  I  would  stay  there  until  daylight,  but 
in  fear  of  the  river  rising,  I  baled  the  water 
out  of  the  boat  and  made  another  start. 

"My  next  landing  place  was  on  the 
Canadian  shore.  As  soon  as  I  landed,  I 
felt  that  I  was  a  free  man;  at  the  same 
time  I  was  frightened  half  out  of  my  wits 
in  fear  of  meeting  with  bloodthirsty 
Canadians  or  other  savages.  As  I  glided 
slowly  along  I  saw  a  man  on  horseback. 
I  began  to  run.  He  put  spurs  to  his 
horse,  overtook  me  and  asked  what  I  was 
running  for.  I  pleaded  for  my  life  and 
told  him  that  I  did  not  want  to  be  either 
tomahawked  or  scalped.  The  man  gave 
a  great  laugh  and  said  he  guessed  there 
wasn't  much  danger.  He  took  me  to  his 
home  and  cared  for  me  until  I  got  some- 
thing to  do. 

"Many  like  myself  who  had  escaped 
from  slavery  settled  about  Chatham; 
others  availed  themselves  of  the  liberality 
of  the  Canadian  Government  and  took 
up  farms  in  what  then  were  the  back- 
woods of  Canada.  Among  them  was 
myself.  On  a  farm  in  the  township  of 
Artemesia  I  have  lived,  raised  my  family 
and  prospered." 

Amid  many  friendly  nods  from  those 
he  had  entertained  by  the  way,  our  genial 
Coloured  Fellow-Traveller  left  us  at  the 
town  of  Colling^vood.  As  the  names  of 
nearly  all  the  officers  mentioned  in  this 
sketch  can  be  traced  in  American  history 
of  the  events  of  the  war  of  1812,  we  may 
suppose  that  his  personal  narrative  was 
true. 

APPENDIX 

Upon  reading  this  interesting  tale,  we 
are  led  to  conjecture  as  to  the  name  and 
age  of  the  coloured  hero. 

ISlany  slaves  took  their  master's  pat- 
ronymic,  while  others   adopted   that    of 


536 


THE  CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


some  great  man,  such  as  Washington  or 
Jefferson,  or  of  a  friend  who  had  helped 
them,  or,  on  marrying,  that  of  the  wife's 
family. 

As  the  boy  Lemuel  was  apparently 
well  treated  by  his  first  master,  he  may, 
when  a  freed  man,  have  called  himself 
Lemuel  Page. 

Perhaps  some  of  his  old  neighbours  in 
Artemesia  may  be  able  to  enlighten  us 
as  to  this. 

As  to  his  age  and  status,  he  first  saw  the 
light  in  Vermont  and  was  there  treated  as 
a  slave.  By  her  "Bill  of  Rights"  of  1777, 
Vermont  excluded  slavery  from  her 
borders,  and  the  census  of  1790  shewed 
but  seventeen  slaves  in  this  State.  Lem- 
uel, no  doubt,  lived  in  Vermont  after 
1777  and  could  have  claimed  freedom, 
but  he  was  probably  held  in  ignorance  of 
his  legal  status,  and  removed  for  a  pur- 
pose, which  will  be  seen,  to  New  York 
State. 

The  Legislature  of  that  State,  in  1799, 
emancipated  only  the  future  issue  of 
slaves,  males  at  age  of  twenty-eight, 
females    at   twenty-five  years.     In   181 7, 


another  Act  provided  that  all  slaves  in 
this  State  should  be  free  on  July  4,  1827. 

The  object  of  removing  Lemuel  to  New 
York  was,  apparently,  to  take  advantage 
of  the  state  of  the  law  there  prior  to  the 
last-mentioned  day. 

We  may  conjecture  that  he  escaped  to 
Canada  probably  several  years  before 
that,  as  he  was  a  grown  man  of  intelligence 
and  must  have  heard  of  the  law  of  1817, 
which  would  have  given  him  freedom 
without  effort  in  1827. 

I  take  it  that  Lemuel  escaped  to  Upper 
Canada  during  the  first  quarter  of  last 
century. 

Here  he  found  personal  security,  and 
prospered  as  many  of  his  race  have  done, 
including  Josiah  Henson,  of  Dresden,  the 
original  "Uncle  Tom"  of  fiction,  whose 
story  is,  in  some  respects,  similar  to  that 
of  the  worthy  old  Lemuel. 

We  might  also  add  the  name  of  the 
late  respected  Virginian,  John  M.  Tinsley, 
a  free-born  mulatto,  of  Scovill  origin  on 
his  mother's  side,  who  lived  and  prospered 
for  more  than  half  a  century  in  Toronto, 
even  to  the  iioth  year  of  his  age. 


The  Woodland  Meadow 

BY  DOUGLAS   ROBERTS 

PNTRANCED  beneath  the  silent,  moving  sky, 

The  long,  green  meadows  move  without  a  sound; 
A  bree/.e  soft  passes  with  a  butterfly; 

A  lonely  hawk  soars  lov/  above  the  ground; 
The  thin  cloud-shadows  drift  upon  their  noiseless  round. 


The  shapeless  wood  crowds  close  along  the  mead, 

To  whisper  as  the  fitful  breezes  run. 
Till  day  slow  sinks,  and  lazy  mists  are  freed; 

The  moon  creeps  out,  her  long,  pale  flight  begun; 
One  rampire  thrusts  up  black  against  the  crimson  sun. 


Worry-the  Disease  of  the  Age 


By  DR.  C.  W.  SALEEBY 


Showing  that  alcohol  has  no  place,  use,  or  purpose  in  the  relief 
of  worry,  and  that  it  is  always  dangerous 


IV.— WORRY,  DRUGS  AND  DRINK 

T  is  recorded  of  certain  bees 
wlio  had  an  opportunity  of 
making  acquaintance  with 
alcohol  in  the  form  of  fer- 
mented honey,  that  they 
partook  greedily  thereof,  and  thereafter 
displayed  the  symptoms  of  excitement 
and  loss  of  equilibrium  only  too  often 
exhibited  by  creatures  whose  nervous 
organisation  is  even  higher  than  that  of 
the  bee.  But  it  is  further  recorded  that 
no  amount  of  temptation,  persuasion, 
nor  yet  starvation,  would  induce  those 
bees  again  to  make  adventure  with  the 
honeyed  poison. 

Very  different  is  the  case  with  man. 
In  all  times  and  places  he  has  been  sus- 
ceptible to  the  charm  of  drugs  that 
markedly  affect  the  nervous  system — 
drugs  of  a  very  definite  class.  Beyond  a 
doubt  the  fundamental  fact  of  the  human 
mind  upon  which  the  charm  of  these 
drugs  depends  is  the  fact  of  self-con- 
sciousness, the  power  of  "looking  before 
and  after,"  which  we  have  already  seen 
to  be  the  first  condition  of  worry.  All 
animals  less  than  man  live  in  and  for 
the  present.  They  may  make  apparent 
calculation  for  the  future,  but  this  is 
sub-conscious  or  instinctive — not  ration- 
al. We  may  say  that  nervine  drugs  have 
no  particular  purpose  or  use  except  for 
the  self-conscious  being — man,  whose 
attitude  towards  them  markedly  con- 
trasts with  that  of  the  bees  whom  I  have 
cited. 

It  is  certain  that  men  have  used  alcohol 
whenever  and  wherever  they  have  been 
able  to  make  it,  and  that  the  alcoholic 
strength  of  the  liquids  they  have  con- 
sumed has  been  limited  merely  by  their 
chemical  knowledge.  There  is  clear  evi- 
dence that  alcohol  was  extensively  used 

537 


in  Egypt  six  or  eight  thousand  years  ago. 
In  these  days  it  has  found  certain  rivals, 
some  of  them  of  very  great  importance 
for  us.  In  addition  to  the  drugs  which 
properly  belong  to  the  same  class  as 
alcohol,  there  is  at  least  one  powerful 
drug,  of  unique  properties,  which  is  the 
active  principle  of  tea  and  coffee,  and 
is  daily  consumed  in  all  but  incredible 
quantities  in  every  part  of  the  world 
where  it  can  be  obtained.  These  various 
drugs  must  carefully  be  considered  in 
the  course  of  our  study  of  Worry. 

They  must  be  considered  because  their 
charm,  as  we  have  seen,  is  for  man — 
the  worrying  animal — alone,  and  because 
it  is  their  influence  upon  the  mind  that 
constitutes  their  value  and  their  charm. 
If  to  alcohol  and  to  the  caffeine  of  tea 
and  coffee  we  add  the  nicotine  of  tobacco 
and  the  morphine  of  opium  we  find 
ourselves  faced  with  a  series  of  sub- 
stances which  are  daily  employed  by 
the  overwhelming  majority  of  human 
beings,  and  which,  though  they  are  not 
foods,  nor  in  any  way  necessary  to  life, 
play  a  very  large  part  indeed  in  modi- 
fying the  state  of  men's  minds  and  tem- 
pers and  actions — which  are,  after  all, 
the  only  interesting  things  in  the  whole 
world.  Now  if  man  were  no  more  men- 
tally than  even  such  a  wonderful  crea- 
ture as  the  bee,  these  drugs,  I  think  it 
is  safe  to  say,  would  have  no  more  charm 
for  him  than  for  the  bee.  But  man  is 
a  reflecting  mind;  he  can  and  does  con- 
jure up  the  past  and  anticipate  the 
future;  and  in  both  cases  there  is  the 
constant  risk  that  his  so  doing  will  arouse 
unpleasant  emotions — in  a  word,  that 
he  will  worr\'  about  the  past  or  the  future 
or  both.  As  long  as  man  is  man  he  will 
continue  to  live  less  in  the  present  than 
out  of  the  present.  Now  the  drugs  which 
man  employs  so  largely  have  been  wel- 


538 


THE   CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


corned  by  him  not  on  any  theoretical 
nor  economic  grounds,  but  simply  and 
solely  because  he  finds  that  they  exercise 
an  influence,  which  he  rightly  or  wrongly 
welcomes,  upon  the  emotional  tone  of 
his  mind.  Everyone  is  famihar  with  the 
famous  German  students'  drinking  song 
for  a  bass  voice,  the  substance  of  which 
is  the  statement  that  every  kind  of  fear 
and  care  and  worry  vanishes  whilst 
"drinking,  drinking,  drinking."  There 
you  have  the  facts  in  a  nutshell.  There 
are  scores  and  scores  of  drugs  which 
exercise  marked  properties  upon  the 
muscles,  the  nerve  ends,  the  glands,  the 
heart,  the  lungs,  and  all  the  other  tissues 
and  organs  of  the  body.  There  are 
hosts  of  drugs  which  markedly  affect,  in 
various  ways,  the  lower  levels  of  the 
nervous  system.  But  survey  mankind 
from  the  dawn  of  civilisation  till  to-day 
and  from  China  to  Peru — you  will  not 
find  that  any  of  these  drugs  has  taken  a 
place  in  his  life.  The  drugs  which  he 
wants  and  has  taken  good  care  to  obtain 
are  those  which  affect  consciousness — 
those  which  modify  the  emotional  tone 
of  his  mind,  those  which  banish  care 
and  drown  sorrow,  those  which  gave  him 
what  he  values  more  than  any  other 
thing  that  can  be  named,  the  organic 
sense  of  well-being  with  which  life  is 
worth  living,  and  without  which  hfe  is 
worthless. 

After  what  has  already  been  said  the 
reader  will  not  expect  me  to  launch  into 
a  general  denunciation  of  all  these  drugs. 
Some  may  say  that  it  is  not  consonant 
with  human  dignity  to  drink  alcohol, 
smoke  tobacco  and  opium,  or  sip  tea; 
man  should  be  above  the  need  of  modi- 
fying his  consciousness  by  these  artificial 
means.  This  argument  may  be  sup- 
ported by  the  general  conviction  that  the 
use  of  these  drugs  has  always  worked, 
and  still  works,  a  great  deal  of  harm. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  many  considera- 
tions may  be  urged  and  must  here  be  de- 
tailed. In  the  first  place,  it  is  certain 
beyond  certainty  that  neither  denuncia- 
tion, nor  warning,  nor  legislation,  nor  any 
other  measures  whatever  will  wean  man- 
kind as  a  whole  from  its  addiction  to  one 
or  other  of  these  drugs.  Wherever  and 
whenever  thev  have  been  obtainable  the\' 


have  been  used.  They  are  more  obtain- 
able to-day  than  ever  before,  and  are 
more  widely  used  than  ever  before. 
The  reasonable  argument  would  seem 
to  be  that  they  must  serve  some  human 
purpose.  If  their  effects  were  noxious 
in  all  respects,  they  would  scarcely  have 
been  heard  of.  The  fact  of  their  em- 
ployment, universal  as  it  is,  constitutes 
a  proof  of  the  fact  that  men  find — or 
seem  to  find — them  more  or  less  useful. 
Perhaps,  then,  it  will  be  better  for  us  to 
recognise  these  facts,  and  to  ask  our- 
selves whether  it  is  possible  to  distin- 
guish between  one  of  these  drugs  and  an- 
other, to  discover  whether  there  is  any 
which  is  wholly  useful,  or,  at  any  rate, 
to  arrange  them  in  some  sort  of  scale 
which  will  indicate  the  proportions  be- 
tween the  good  and  the  evil  that  they 
accomphsh. 

And,  first  of  all,  let  us  ask  ourselves 
exactly  what  it  is  that  they  do.  The 
word  commonly  applied  to  these  drugs 
is  stimulants,  and  it  is  unquestionably 
true  that,  for  many  purposes  and  on 
many  occasions,  men  welcome  substances 
which  increase  the  rapidity  of  their 
vital  processes.  Such  substances  are 
conspicuously  contained  in  many  articles 
of  diet;  but  when  we  come  to  consider 
the  leading  case  of  alcohol,  we  shall  find 
that  the  common  behef  requires  criticism. 
Alcohol  is  commonly  spoken  and  thought 
of  as  a  stimulant,  and  we  know,  of 
course,  that  the  first  result  of  its  action 
is  to  cause  an  increased  rapidity  of  the 
pulse,  an  increased  activity  of  many 
glands,  and  a  very  definite  degree  of 
mental  excitement.  In  these  respects 
alcohol  is  strictly  comparable  with  opium, 
which  plays  a  corresponding  part  in  the 
life  of  an  enormous  section  of  mankind. 
It  may  be  said,  in  general,  that  a  race 
employs  either  alcohol  or  opium,  but  not 
both,  for  both  are  not  needed.  Whether 
the  one  or  the  other  be  used,  however, 
it  is  not  long  before  the  stage  of  stimu- 
lation or  excitement  gives  place  to  one 
which  is  distinguished  by  precisely  oppo- 
site characters.  The  tide  of  life  now 
flows  more  slowly,  the  various  physical 
functions  are  depressed,  the  mind  be- 
comes less  active,  and  if  a  sufficiency  of 
either  drug  has  been  taken,  sleep  or  un- 


WORRY—THE    DISEASE   OF   THE   AGE 


539 


consciousness  ensues.  If  the  dose  be 
well  calculated,  this  last  stage  may  not 
be  quickly  reached,  but  the  subject  will 
remain  for  a  long  period  in  a  state  which 
indicates  that  he  has  taken  a  sedative, 
and  not  a  stimulant. 

Now  no  man  takes  a  sedative  in  order 
that  his  pulse  may  beat  more  slowly,  or 
in  order  that  the  number  of  his  respira- 
tions per  minute  may  be  reduced.  He 
takes  a  sedative  in  order  that  he  may 
attain  that  particular  state  of  mind 
which  it  is  the  characteristic  of  a  sedative 
to  produce.  Undoubtedly  alcohol  may 
be  taken  at  times  for  its  supposed  stimu- 
lant effect  upon  the  powers  of  work, 
but  it  is  indisputable  that  the  action  of 
alcohol  and  of  opium,  which  has  led 
these  drugs  to  play  their  part  in  human 
life,  is  their  power  of  producing  peace  of 
mind.  That  is  why  I  must  consider 
them  here.  What  men  want  in  all  times 
and  places  is  happiness — conscious  and 
self-conscious  happiness.  Yet,  because 
they  are  men,  able  to  look  before  and 
after,  this  state  which  they  desire  is  con- 
stantly threatened  by  the  presence  of 
regrets,  fears,  and  cares,  depression  and 
apprehension — in  a  word,  by  worry.  It 
has  long  since  been  discovered  that 
alcohol  and  opium  are  antagonistic  to 
worry.  Never  yet  was  the  unhappy 
state  of  mind  that  would  not  yield  to  an 
adequate  dose  of  one  or  other  of  them. 
I  submit,  then,  that  there  is  a  very  grave 
and  very  stupid  fallacy  in  the  common 
conception  of  alcohol  in  the  West  or 
opium  in  the  East  as  stimulants.  They 
ere  taken  and  used  not  as  stimulants,  but 
as  sedatives. 

In  order  to  clear  up  our  views  on  this 
subject  it  is  necessary  to  see  whether 
they  are  in  accord  with  what  is  actually 
known  concerning  the  actions  of  these 
drugs  on  the  body.  Now,  it  has  been 
demonstrated  in  the  case  of  both  of  them 
that  their  stimulation  of  the  body  is,  so 
to  speak,  preliminary  and  accidental, 
and  that  a  depression  or  soothing  or 
sedation  of  the  bodily  functions,  and  with 
them  the  mental  functions,  is  their 
essential  character.  As  everyone  knows, 
opium  is  very  largely  used  in  medicine; 
more  especially  nowadays  in  the  form  of 
its  chief  active  principle  morphia.     But 


no  doctor  thinks  of  morphia  as  a  stimu- 
lant, or  uses  it  as  a  stimulant.  The  doc- 
tor is  aware  of  its  preliminary  stimulant 
action,  and  takes  measures  to  alleviate 
or  obliterate  that  action  in  order  that 
he  may  obtain  the  sedative  action  which 
is  the  true  character  of  the  drug  and 
which  he  desires. 

Extremely  significant,  but  yet  un- 
known to  the  public  in  general,  are  the 
similar  facts  in  regard  to  alcohol.  This 
is  a  substance  of  paradoxes;  in  general, 
what  it  does  is  just  the  reverse  of  what 
it  seems  to  do.  It  is  still  called  a  stimu- 
lant, as  it  was  half  a  century  ago.  At 
that  time  not  only  was  it  called  a  stimu- 
lant, but  it  was  widely  used  as  a  stimu- 
lant by  doctors.  It  was  supposed  to  in- 
crease vital  activity  in  all  directions,  and 
was  used  as  an  aid  to  the  body  in  its 
fight  against  disease  of  all  kinds.  But  in 
these  days  of  scientific  medicine  our 
whole  conception  of  alcohol  has  changed. 
As  we  have  already  seen,  the  public 
speaks  of  it  as  a  stimulant,  but,  in  point 
of  fact,  uses  it  as  a  sedative — uses  it  be- 
cause it  is  able  to  calm  the  worrying 
mind,  to  banish  care,  and  to  bring  peace. 
Similarly,  nowadays,  the  most  scientific 
physicians  both  speak  of  alcohol  and 
use  it  as  a  sedative.  They  find,  for  in- 
stance, that  when  the  body  temperature 
tends  to  become  too  high  in  consequence 
of  the  excessive  activity  of  the  vital  pro- 
cesses, alcohol  may  be  of  use,  for  it  low- 
ers the  temperature.  Similarly,  it  may 
produce  sleep,  both  in  fever  and  at  other 
times.  True,  Hke  many  other  sedatives, 
it  causes  a  period  of  preliminary  excite- 
ment, but  that  must  be  shortened  or 
neutrahsed  as  far  as  possible. 

If  now  we  turn  to  the  fundamental 
chemistry  of  alcohol  and  opium,  we  find 
that  it  confirms  my  doctrines  as  to  the 
true  character  of  these  drugs  and  as  to 
the  true  explanation  of  their  universal 
employment.  The  fundamental  fact  of 
the  chemistry  of  the  body  is  the  fact  of 
burning,  combustion,  or  oxidation.  The 
more  rapidly  we  bum,  the  more  rapidly 
we  live.  Both  alcohol  and  opium  have 
been  proved  to  interfere  with  .oxidation 
or  combustion  in  the  body.  They  mark- 
edly retard  the  rate  at  which  the  oxygen 
we  take  in  from  the  air  is  combined  with 


540 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


the  tissues.  In  the  midst  of  the  con- 
fusion which  reigns  as  to  the  classification 
of  drugs,  it  seems  to  me  that  we  have 
here  a  fimdamental,  chemical  distinction. 
The  drug  the  net  result  of  which  is  to 
increase  the  rate  at  which  we  bum  away 
is  essentially  a  stimulant;  the  drug  the 
net  result  of  whose  action  is  to  diminish 
the  rate  at  which  we  bum  away  is  essen- 
tially a  sedative.  For  convenience  we 
may  apply  the  term  pseudo-stimulant  to 
those  sedatives,  such  as  alcohol,  opium 
or  morphia,  which  display  a  preliminary 
transient  stage  of  stimulation. 

Ere  we  conclude  it  will  be  necessary 
to  pronounce  judgment  upon  these  sub- 
stances, and  the  recent  additions  to  the 
same  group.  But  before  doing  so,  we 
must  consider  the  case  of  caffeine  (or 
theine),  which  is  the  active  principle  of 
tea  and  coffee,  as  also  of  the  kola  nut 
and  Paraguay  tea  or  Mate,  and  of  some 
other  substances  which  are  similarly  em- 
ployed in  various  parts  of  the  world. 
The  importance  of  the  subject  may  be 
suggested  by  the  fact  that  of  tea  alone 
there  is  consumed  in  Great  Britain  about 
four  million  gallons  every  day.  Consider 
that  an  ordinary  cup  of  tea  contains 
about  a  grain  of  caffeine,  and  then  calcu- 
late how  many  millions  of  grains  of  this 
potent  alkaloid  daily  enter  into  the  blood 
of  the  British  people.  To  this  add  all 
the  caffeine  contained  in  coffee,  and  it 
will  be  evident  that  the  subject  is  of 
some  practical  interest.  Now  the  con- 
trast between  alcohol  and  caffeine  very 
soon  suffices  to  show  how  foolishly  the 
word  stimulant  is  commonly  employed. 
Caffeine  is  a  true  stimulant  and  has  no 
other  action.  It  has  been  proved  to 
increase  the  amount  of  combustion  in 
the  body  in  whatever  dose  it  be  taken; 
it  tends  to  raise  the  temperature.  Its 
truly  stimulant  action  is  still  more  con- 
spicuous if  we  consider  the  mind,  and 
mind  is  the  only  important  matter.  The 
larger  the  dose  of  opium  or  alcohol  that 
be  taken,  the  more  certainly  and  rapidly 
will  you  sleep;  the  larger  the  dose  of  this 
true  stimulant  that  be  taken,  the  more 
certainly  and  persistently  will  you  keep 
awake.  About  fifteen  grains  of  caffeine 
will  entirely  abolish  both  the  desire  for 
and  the  possibility  of  sleep,  for  a  whole 


night  and  longer,  and  will  make  it  pos- 
sible to  do  hard  intellectual  work  at  high 
speed,  and  of  the  best  quality  possible 
for  the  brain  in  question,  during  the 
hours  which  sleep  would  otherwise  have 
certainly  claimed.  These  facts  will  abund- 
antly suffice  to  show  how  superficial  and 
stupid  is  the  common  application  of  the 
same  term  "stimulant"  to  drugs  so 
profoundly  contracted  as  alcohol  and 
opium  on  the  one  hand,  and  caffeine  on 
the  other.  I  am  tempted  to  go  much 
further  into  this  question  because  the  dis- 
tinction which  I  have  demonstrated  is 
not  recognised  even  in  text-books  that 
deal  with  these  subjects.  And  yet  it  is 
a  fundamental  one.  What  could  well 
be  more  absurd  than  to  apply  one  and 
the  same  name  on  the  one  hand  to  drugs 
which  in  sufficient  doses  will  infaUibly 
arrest  consciousness,  even  in  cases  of 
great  bodily  pain  or  of  violent  mental 
excitement  or  both;  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  to  a  drug  which,  in  adequate  doses, 
will  infaUibly  prevent  that  normal  re- 
currence of  unconsciousness  which  we 
call  sleep  ?  Obviously  there  is  no  word 
that  can  possibly  include  both  sets  of 
drugs,  unless  it  be  the  word  antagonists. 

Of  nicotine,  the  active  principle  of 
tobacco,  it  is  unfortunately  impossible 
to  speak  in  any  such  dogmatic  fashion. 
The  statements  I  have  made  regarding 
opium,  alcohol  and  caffeine  are  scientific 
facts,  admitted  and  recognised  by  all 
competent  students.  There  is  no  dispute 
about  them — a  circumstance  which  makes 
it  the  more  remarkable,  perhaps,  that  the 
radical  opposition  between  the  sets  of 
facts  in  the  two  cases  is  so  commonly 
ignored.  But  nicotine  appears  to  act  in 
various  fashions  upon  various  persons. 
For  some  it  appears  to  be  a  stimulant, 
for  others  a  sedative,  and  the  individual 
differences  have  not  yet  been  explained. 
In  passing,  then,  to  consider  those  ques- 
tions for  which  all  that  has  been  said 
hitherto  is  merely  preparation,  we  shall 
find  that  it  is  impossible  to  lay  down 
the  law  as  might  be  desired. 

These  questions,  of  course,  are  con- 
cerned with  the  actual  as  distinguished 
from  the  apparent  valae  of  the  repre- 
sentative drugs  which  have  been  con- 
sidered.    Here  is  this  great  fact  of  worry, 


WORRY— THE    DISEASE    OF   THE   AGE 


541 


fear,  regret,  apprehension,  and  grief, 
which  constantly  attends  upon  or  threat- 
ens the  mind  of  man  and  against  which 
these  and  many  other  drugs  are  known 
to  operate.     Is  their  use  worth  while  ? 

Now,  if  the  reader  remembers  or  be- 
lieves nothing  else  whatever  that  I  say 
here  on  this  subject,  or  that  I  have  said 
or  may  say  on  any  other  subject  any- 
where else,  I  beseech  him  at  least  to 
believe  this:  the  habitual  use  of  sedatives 
— such  as  alcohol,  opium,  morphia,  sul- 
phonal,  trional,  veronal,  paraldehyde, 
chloral,  and  their  allies — is  to  be  con- 
demned without  fjualification  as  false  in 
principle  and  fatal  in  result.  It  is  true 
that  these  drugs  will  one  and  all  relieve 
worry,  banish  care,  and  procure  peace 
of  mind,  but  it  is  as  true  that  the  worry, 
the  care,  and  the  dispeace  will  return, 
bringing  seven  devils  with  them,  and 
that  the  latter  end  of  the  man  who  uses 
them  for  this  purpose  is  not  peace.  They 
are  false  friends.  For  every  unit  of 
mental  unrest  that  they  remove  they 
will  inevitably  create  many  such  units. 
They  are  false  in  principle  because  they 
make  no  attack  whatever  upon  the  cause 
of  the  worry.  That  cause  may  be  ill- 
health;  these  drugs  will  most  assuredly 
aggravate  it.  That  cause  may  be  over- 
work; these  drugs  will  most  assuredly 
lessen  the  power  of  work.  That  cause 
may  be  the  loss  of  the  organic  sense  of 
well-being,  which  is  the  first  and  only 
condition  of  bodily  and  mental  happiness; 
these  drugs  will,  for  the  time,  by  their 
sedative  action  arrest  those  internal 
sensations  which  are  found  displeasing 
and  make  men  into  pessimists,  but  the 
after  result  of  their  action  is  invariably 
to  cause  these  sensations  to  return  more 
abundantly  than  ever,  demanding  a 
larger  and  an  accelerated  second  dose  of 
the  drug.  Worry  is  curable  because  it 
has  causes  which  are  removable'.  In  all 
ages  and  places,  the  chief  cure  adopted 
by  men  has  been  the  use  of  these  sedatives, 
which  are  no  cure,  because  they  do  not 
begin  to  remove  the  causes  of  worry. 
They  merely  drown  or  submerge  the 
worry  for  a  time,  as  ill  weeds  may  be 
submerged  with  water.  But  when  the 
drug  or  the  water  has  passed  away  the 
ill  weeds  are  foimd  to  have  grown  apace. 


In  Western  countries  generally,  alcohol 
is  at  once  the  commonest  cure  for  worry, 
and  amongst  the  most  potent  of  the 
causes  of  worry.  It  is  not  my  concern 
here  to  .speak  in  detail  of  the  effect  of 
this  and  similar  drugs  upon  character, 
upon  the  ability  to  work,  or  even  upon 
physical  health,  except  in  so  far  as 
these  influence  the  state  of  the  mind. 
The  great  fact  is  that,  ignoring  all  external 
considerations,  and  directing  our  atten- 
tion solely  to  the  actions  of  these  drugs 
upon  the  body  and  the  mind,  we  find  that 
their  sedative  action  upon  worry  is  such 
as  to  be  invariably  and  necessarily  fol- 
lowed by  bodily  and  mental  changes  of 
which  the  product  is  worry  multiplied 
manifold.  If  my  condemnation  of  the 
use  of  these  drugs,  in  ministering  to  the 
mind  diseased  or  distressed,  be  less  un- 
qualified or  less  vigorous  than  it  might  be, 
the  cause  is  to  be  found  not  in  my  estimate 
of  the  facts,  but  in  my  defective  power 
of  expressing  that  estimate.  I  accuse 
these  drugs  as  irreconcilable  foes  of 
human  happiness;  so  essentially  detest- 
able that  their  masquerade  as  friends  of 
man  can  scarcely  make  one  detest  them 
more. 

Let  us  turn  now  from  the  sedatives 
to  the  stimulants,  the  terms  being  used 
not  in  the  common  unscientific,  but  in 
the  uncommon  scientific  sense.  Must 
caffeine,  as  represented  by  tea  and 
coffee,  fall  under  a  like  condemnation? 
This  would  be  somewhat  paradoxical  if 
it  were  so,  because  we  have  already  seen 
that  these  two  groups  of  drugs  are  essen- 
tially opposed  in  their  physiological  prop- 
erties. The  sedatives  we  have  con- 
demned because  they  do  nothing  for  the 
life  of  the  body  but  are  opposed  to  it. 
The  stimulant,  caffeine,  on  the  other 
hand,  as  we  have  seen,  favours  the  life 
of  the  body,  promotes  the  processes  of 
combustion  on  which  life  depends,  in- 
creases vitality,  and  that  power  to  work 
which  is  the  expression  of  vitality.  Every- 
where men  find  that  a  cup  of  tea  or  coffee 
is  refreshing;  it  produces  renewed  vigour; 
it  heightens  the  sense  of  organic  well- 
being,  the  consciousness  of  fitness  and 
capacity.  This  is  utterly  distinct  from 
the  action  of  alcohol  or  opium  in  dead- 
ening the  sense  of  ill-being.     Tea  antagon- 


542 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


ises  the  sense  of  ill-being  not  by  dead- 
ening one's  consciousness  of  it,  but  by 
stirring  the  sources  of  vitality  and  by 
the  positive  substitution  for  it  of  that 
sense  of  well-being  which  is  the  index 
of  vitality.  Here  is  a  true  stimulant — 
something  that  favours  life.  How,  then, 
will  its  use  affect  worry  and  the  causes 
of  worry?  Is  the  plan  of  employing  it 
superior  to  the  plan  of  employing  seda- 
tives or  is  it  even  worse? 

The  answ^er  is,  of  course,  that  the  plan 
is  immeasurably  superior.  But  before  I 
insist  upon  this  assertion,  let  me  make 
certain  qualiiications.  In  the  first  place, 
I  recognise  that  the  ideal  would  be  neither 
to  need  nor  to  employ  any  drugs  whatso- 
ever; but  here  our  concern  is  not  with 
the  ideal,  but  the  real.  Again,  I  will 
admit,  of  course,  that  every  good  thing 
— except,  perhaps,  the  spiritual  goods, 
like  love — depends  for  its  goodness  upon 
a  fitness  of  proportion.  The  sun  is  the 
source  and  condition  of  all  earthly  life, 
yet  men  have  died  of  sunstroke.  Caffeine 
is  a  good  thing  in  its  essence  because, 
like  sunlight  itself,  it  is  a  true  stimulant 
in  that  it  favours  the  essential  processes 
of  life;  but,  like  sunlight  itself,  it  is 
capable  of  abuse,  though  the  remarkable 
fact  is  that  it  is  very  difl&cult  to  obtain 
symptoms  of  abuse  even  w'hen  this  drug 
is  employed  in  large  quantities.  Tea 
and  coffee  have  had  many  hard  words 
said  of  them.  The  trouble  is  that  people 
will  not  distinguish.  Tea,  for  instance,  as 
commonly  understood  in  this  country, 
is  more  nearly  a  decoction  than  an  in- 
fusion of  the  tea  leaf,  and  contains  be- 
sides the  theine  or  caffeine  a  very  large 
proportion  of  tannin  or  tannic  acid.  Now- 
the  action  of  this  substance  upon  the  body 
is  wholly  deleterious;  it  interferes  with 
the  activity  of  every  tissue  with  which 
it  comes  in  contact;  it  markedly  inter- 
feres with  the  digestion  in  at  least  two 
ways — first,  by  tanning  many  of  the  pro- 
teids  of  the  food,  so  that,  like  other  forms 
of  leather,  they  can  scarcely  be  digested 
at  all;  and  secondly,  by  interfering  with 
the  production  of  the  digestive  juices  by 
the  walls  of  the  stomach.  As  long  as 
the  present  vitiated  taste  for  tea  persists, 
large  numbers  of  people  will  continue  to 
do  themselves  great  injury  by  drinking 


it;  but  it  is  ludicrously  unscientific  to 
assume  that  the  evil  consequence  of 
drinking  improperly  made  tea  are  neces- 
sarily to  be  attributed  to  the  valuable 
caffeine  which  it  contains.  If  we  con- 
sider the  gigantic  amount  of  tea  and  coffee 
that  we  daily  drink  and  allow  for  the 
injurious  efi'ects  of  the  tannin  which 
abounds  in  improperly-made  tea — that  is 
to  say,  in  nine-tenths  of  all  tea — we  must 
acquit  caffeine  of  any  very  deadly  prop- 
erties. There  will  remain  to  its  credit 
the  many  desirable  consequences  with 
which  everyone  is  familiar. 

I  assert,  then,  that  whereas  all  seda- 
tives are  to  be  condemned  in  the  relief 
of  worry  on  the  ground  that  they  do  not 
attack  the  causes  of  worry,  on  the  ground 
that,  in  proportion  to  their  immediate 
potency,  they  establish  a  craving  for 
themselves,  and  on  the  further  ground 
that  their  after  effects  invariably  include 
the  production  of  more  worry  than  was 
relieved  in  the  first  place,  the  stimulant 
caffeine,  on  account  of  which  we  consume 
so  much  tea  and  coft'ee,  may  be  excused, 
if  not  justified  and  applauded.  Taken  in 
reasonable  quantities,  such  as  very  few 
people  desire  to  exceed,  it  differs  funda- 
mentally from  all  the  sedatives  in  that 
it  does  not  produce  a  need  for  a  con- 
tinuous increase  of  the  dose.  It  relieves 
worry  not  by  a  temporary  and  actually 
nutritive  and  fostering  submergence  of  it, 
but  by  attacking  its  causes.  The  man 
who  is  worried  because  his  work  is  too 
much  for  him  finds  his  work  facilitated 
and  its  accomplishment  accelerated  under 
the  influence  of  caffeine.  Assuming  that 
his  work  ought  to  be  done,  what  better 
way  of  dealing  wdth  his  worry  could  be 
conceived?  Again,  a  great  deal  of  worry 
is  caused  by  defective  vitality.  The  man 
of  radiant  health  and  almost  offensive 
energy,  who  is  "always  at  it,"  has  no 
time  to  worry.  He  has  too  many  other 
things  to  do.  Mental  unrest  afflicts  rather 
those  whose  vital  processes  are  slower,  and 
especially  those  whose  vital  processes  are 
too  slow.  Under  the  influence  of  a  true 
stimulant,  such  persons  may  often  be 
tided  over  a  period  of  threatening  depres- 
sion simply  in  virtue  of  the  fact  that 
their  vital  processes — which  have  become 
too  tardy — are  accelerated,  with  a  con- 


FOLLY  543 

sequent  access  of  energy  and  a  more  due  hand,  the  true  nerve  stimulant,  caffeine 

])rominence  of  the  organic  sense  of  well-  — which  is  in  a  class  by  itself — cannot  be 

being.  similarly    condemned,    but    its   judicious 

In  so  far,  then,  as  the  subject  of  these  use  may  be  regarded  as  justifiable  and 

articles  is  concerned  with  the  use  of  drugs,  profitable. 

we  may  .say  that  it  is  necessary  first  to  In  surveying  this  article  my  fear  is  that 

search   below   appearances,   and   to   dis-  any  portions  of  it  may  have  prevented 

tinguish   between   drugs   that   are   really  me  from  throwing  into  the  boldest  relief 

sedatives  and  those  that  are  really  stimu-  what  is  by  far  the  most  important  fact 

lants.     The  sedatives  are  to  be  condemned  that   it   contains — the   fact   that    alcohol 

without  reserve.     This  condemnation  ap-  has  no  place,  use,  or  purpose,  in  the  relief 

plies  to  tobacco  in  the  case  of  those  per-  of  worry,  and  that  its  so-called  use — in 

sons,  relatively  few,  I   think,   on  whom  this   connection,    at    any    rate — is    never 

it  acts  as  a  true  sedative,  retarding  vital  anything   but   abuse   or   misuse,    always 

processes;    but  it  is  so  difficult  to  find  dangerous,    always    productive    of    more 

the   truth   about    tobacco   that   I    regret  evil   than   it  relieves,   and  only   too  fre- 

having  to  mention  it  at  all.     On  the  other  cjuently  suicidal. 

(The  fifth  article  of  this  series  will  appear  in  the  May  Canadian  Magazine) 


Folly 


BY  MINNIE  EVELYN  HENDERSON 

COY,  sweet,  my  mistress  Folly, 
Enslaving  me  with  glances; 
If  't  takes  a  fool  to  woo  thee, 
A  willing  fool  shall  I  be. 
Here's  a  toss:  head's  up — you  win. 
Come  Folly,  lead  your  dances. 

Coy,  faithless,  art  thou  Folly? 

Still  come  I  forth  a-wooing; 

Now  who  would  call 't  a  distress 

To  have  thee  for  a  mistress; 
One  day  a  kiss  beneath  the  rose. 

The  next  a  lover  rueing. 

But  you  live  in  to-day  sweet. 
While  Rue  Hves  in  to-morrow; 
So,  Folly,  toss  your  roses 
Quick,  quick,  ere  this  day  closes; 

But  if  my  rose  be  fresh  at  eve 
We'll  half  the  next  day  borrow. 

Coy,  sweet,  my  mistress  Folly, 

If  one  day  with  gay  laughter 

You  mocking  should  uncrow'n  me, 

And  cruelly  disown  me, 
Fair,  fickle  Queen,  think  you  'twould  cure, 

Perhaps — till  the  day  after. 


^prtl 


A  PRIL  is  a  fickle  lass, 
'^^  Wayward,  grave  or  smiling. 
Trust  ker  not,  but  let  her  pass. 
Someone  she  s  beguiling. 
Ventrous  birds  and  blossoms  know 
Oft  sbe  scaflers  frost  and  snow. 

April  is  a  fickle  lass, 

Gentle  and  confiding: 

See  her  toy  wifli  trees  and  grass; 

Heed  not,  storms  are  hiding; 

Tears  are  in  her  tranquil  eye. 

Trust  her  not,  but  hurry  by. 

April  is  a  fickle  lass. 
Changing  skies  above  her; 
But  flie  warning's  late,  alas ! 
We  have  learned  to  love  her 
Somehow  mortals  like  to  be 
Fooled  by  maidens  fair  as  she 

H    ISABEL  GRAHAM 


544 


SUNDSVALL,  SWEDEN,  WHENCE    MOST   SWEDE   GIRL   IMMIGRANTS   HAIL 


Swede  Girls  for  Canadian  Homes 

By  MARY  SPAFFORD 


A  class  of  imported  ^^ Canadians ^^  whose  presence  is  regarded 
in  this  instance  as  mutually  beneficial 


NYONE  who  has  witnessed 
the  in-bound  ocean  Hners 
at  Quebec  disgorge  their 
steerage  passengers,  and  has 
observed,  mingling  in  the 
throng,  group  after  group  of  immigrant 
girls  whose  fair  hair,  blue-gray  eyes  and 
brilliant  pink  and  white  complexion  pro- 
claim their  Swedish  origin,  might  be 
pardoned  for  wondering  if  the  "home- 
land" was  to  be  utterly  depleted  of  its 
robust  young  womanhood.  A  similar 
speculation  lately  filled  the  Swedish 
government  itself  -oath  apprehension,  and, 
as  a  result,  the  way  of  the  would-be 
emigrant  is  not  made  too  easy.  There 
are  instances,  in  fact,  where  actual  meas- 
ures have  been  taken  by  unscrupulous 
and  interested  parties  to  deter  the  girls 
from  leaving.  A  case  in  point  is  the 
following,  quaintly  and  graphically  nar- 
rated by  a  Swede  girl  to  her  Canadian 
mistress,  soon  after  her  arrival: 

"One  time  I  remember  in  Swedish 
paper,  dere  vas  big  word  over  all  de 
paper,  and  it  sav:  'CANADA  IS  A 
SLAVE  LAND ! '  'Dey  tell  to  us  we  shall 
be  slaves  dere — dat  dey  do  what  dey  like 
wid  us.     And  I  be  so  afraid!  so  afraid! 

3—545 


But  I  t'inking  to  myself:  'I  shall  go  and 
see  how  she  shall  have  it.'  And  I  vas 
very  afraid  when  I  first  come  here.  I 
don't  know  what  I  shall  do.  But  often 
you  say:  '//  you  please.^  You  don't  say 
'You  must.'  So  I  beginning  to  t'ink  it 
cannot  be  true.  And  when  I  have  been 
here  pretty  long  time,  I  t'inking  dere 
must  be  some  pretty  bad  peoples  in 
Sweden." 

In  the  majority  of  cases,  the  Swede 
girls  who  come  to  Canada  hail  from  the 
coast  city  of  Smidsvall.  They  embark 
from  the  seaport  of  Gothenburg,  be- 
decked with  the  flowers  which  their 
friends  have  brought  as  a  farewell  offer- 
ing. Landing  at  Hull,  they  are  hurried 
by  train  to  Liverpool,  where  there  is 
often  a  delay  of  several  days  for  the 
American  hner.  Then  comes  the  steer- 
age, the  sea-sickness,  the  black  coffee, 
the  initial  pangs  of  homesickness,  the 
grim  bluff  of  Quebec,  looming  sombre 
and  gray,  the  medical  inspection,  and, 
lastly,  the  trip  by  rail  to  some  place 
where  a  Canadian  mistress  is  expecting 
"a  Swede." 

One  sometimes  wonders  what  actu- 
ating; motive  brings  these  girls  so  confid- 


546 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


TYPICAL    SWEDISH    MAIDS 

ingly  to  a  land  concerning  the  customs, 
language,  and  general  conditions  of 
which  they  are  almost  wholly  ignorant. 
According  to  their  own  statement,  the 
servant  wage  in  Sweden  is  pitifully 
small.  Until  recently,  in  country  dis- 
tricts, a  domestic  received  in  payment 
for  the  roughest  kind  of  work  two  dol- 
lars a  month.  Lately,  owing  to  a  raise 
in  wages,  such  an  one  can  command 
three  or  four  dollars  a  month.  In  the 
Swedish  towns  and  cities,  well-trained 
domestics  are  sometimes  fortunate 
enough  to  obtain  situations  with  "rich 
people,"  as  they  term  it,  where  they  ob- 
tain what  corresponds  to  ten  dollars  a 
month  with  us.  This  state  of  affairs, 
coupled  with  the  fact  that  there  is  gen- 
erally a  large  family  of  younger  brothers 
and  sisters,  doubtless  incites  many  of 
the  older  girls  to  seek  a  betterment  of 
fortune  in  a  new  land.  Others  come, 
ostensiblv,    to    look    for    relatives    who 


sailed  for  Canada  years  be- 
fore, and  have  been  lost  sight 
of.  The  facility  with  which 
these  Swedish  girls  expect 
to  discover  their  missing 
friends,  reveals  their  com- 
fortable belief  that  Canada 
lies  within  the  compass  of 
a  few  square  miles.  Others 
still  (a  minority)  come  for 
the  mere  "lark"  of  the  trip, 
and  the  adventures  it  entails; 
all  of  which  are  enveloped 
in  the  halo  which  ever  sur- 
rounds the  unknown.  But 
as  the  emigration  authorities 
refuse  to  take  girls  under 
seventeen  years  of  age,  the 
majority  of  them  have  ex- 
perienced some  of  life's  sub- 
duing realities. 

They  are  emphatic  in  their 
appreciation  of  Canada. 
"We  be  glad  here  all  de 
time,"  they  say.  "Never, 
never  sorry — always  glad." 

There  is  naturally  a  prej 
udice  on  the  part  of  Cana- 
dian housekeepers  against 
unskilled  labour,  but  the 
exigencies  of  the  modem 
servant  problem  have  driven 
many  a  one,  in  sheer  desperation,  to 
this  extremity,  when,  contrary  to  expec- 
tation, the  venture  has  not  proved  so 
altogether  deplorable.  The  first  fort- 
night following  the  installation  in  a 
family  of  one  of  these  Swedish  girls 
"just  over,"  constitutes  a  period  of  pro- 
bation  for  both  mistress  and  maid.  At 
the  expiration  of  that  time,  if  there  is 
satisfaction  on  each  side,  the  mistress  is 
looked  to  by  the  emigration  authorities 
for  the  amount  of  the  girl's  passage 
money — some  thirty-four  dollars  and  odd 
cents;  which  sum  the  girl  proceeds  to 
"work  out"  at  the  stipulated  rate  of 
six  dollars  a  month,  it  being  understood 
that  she  shall  receive,  meantime,  such 
small  amounts  as  shall  be  required  for 
present  necessities,  although  these  sums 
will  be  deducted  from  her  subsequent 
earnings.  As  soon  as  the  passage  rnoney 
has  been  paid,  a  raise  in  w-ages  is  ex- 
pected,  the   exact   amount    of   which   is 


SWEDE    GIIIES    FOR    CANADIAN     [lOMES 


547 


agreed  u[Jon  by 
the  mistress 
and  maid  with- 
out the  inter- 
ference of  the 
emigration 
a  u  t  ho  rities. 
Henceforward, 
the  girl  is  a  free 
agent.  If,  how- 
ever, she  re- 
mainsina  place 
longer  than  the 
trial  fortnight, 
she  is  in   dutv 


bound  to 
stay  until 
her  passage 
money  has 
been  made 
up.  Under 
sirhilar  cir- 
cumstances, 
the  mistress, 
on  her  side, 
is  expected 
to  keep  the 
girl  until 
that  length 
of  time  has 
elapsed.  A  pathetic  absence  of  worldly 
goods  and  chattels  characterises  the  outfit 
of  the  Swede  girl  on  her  arrival  in  Canada. 
She  comes  with  her  little  shiny  black 
valise,  or  crude  home-made  box,  which 
holds  literally  all  that  she  has  in  the 
world.  She  is  pale,  bewildered,  and 
tired  of  the  long  journey;  and  the  poig- 
nant barb  in  the  arrow  of  her  first  lone- 
liness is  the  realisation  of  the  immeas- 
urable distance  lying  between  herself 
and  home,  a  return  to  which  is  bounded 
by  years,  at  least,  for  by  the  time  her 
ticket  has  been  "worked  out"  her  ward- 
robe needs  replenishing.  An}"\vay,  the 
cost  of  a  return  trip  is  greater  than  the 
special  rate  allowed  coming  over. 

But  the  Swede  girl  is  not  incapaci- 
tated by  her  homesickness.  She  un- 
packs her  little  store  of  ornaments,  sets 
up  the  photographs  of  father  and  mother, 
big  brothers  and  little  sisters,  each  pain- 
fully suggestive  of  dear  associations. 
Then  she  expects  to  go  to  work.     And, 


LINDA 


although  no  excessive  interchange  of 
civilities  can  be  indulged  in  at  the  out- 
set, it  does  not  require  a  flood  of  eloquence 
to  indicate  a  broom  and  its  u.se,  likewise 
a  du.ster,  a  dish-pan,  and  a  mop-pail; 
and  it  is  certainly  a  much  le.ss  fatiguing 
process  for  a  housewife  than  to  perform 
the  tasks  herself. 

As  a  rule,  the  girl  is  ambitious,  quick 
of  comprehension,  and  she  learns  our 
language  very  rapidly. 

"She  talks  like  one  windmill  I"  ex- 
claimed an  immigration  agent,  enthusias- 
tically, in  referring  to  the  progress  made 
in  a  month's  time,  by  a  particularly 
bright  Svensk  girl.  It  might  be  men- 
tioned, however,  by  way  of  suggestion, 
that  the  possession  of  a  good  Swedish- 
Knglish  dictionary  facilitates  matters 
during  the  primal  stage. 

"This  is  'knife'  in  English,  Katarina. 
Knife!  Knife !"  repeated  a  Canadian  mis- 
tress, slowly  and  distinctly,  to  a  young 
Swede  girl  "just  over,"  who  was  eating 
her  first  soli- 
tary meal  after 
her  arrival. 

"Yes,  and 
(lis  is  'fork,' 
was  the  in- 
stantaneous re- 
ply, as  the  ar- 
ticle in  ques- 
tion was  held 
uj)  before  the 
amazed  i  n  - 
structor. 

"On    ship 
coming  here  to, 
KATARix.v  I  stand  on  de 

kitchen  all 
de  day,"  the 
young  girl 
explained 
afterward, 
"and  mark 
wid  de  hand 
and  I  say: 
'What's  vou 
call?  What's 
you  call?' 
I  never  get 
tired." 
It  is  said 


548 


THE    CANADL4N    MAGAZINE 


to  be  a  disgrace,  according  to  the 
Swedish  code,  for  a  girl  to  lose  her 
first  place  (until  a  reasonable  length  of 
time  has  elapsed),  and  their  attitude 
certainly  indiaites  a  will  to  work  and 
a  desire  to  please.  One  of  their  strong 
characteristics  is  neatness;  and  what- 
ever else  the  Swede  girl  may  show  de- 
ficiency in,  one  accomplishment  she  has 
mastered  to  perfection — the  high  art  of 
scrubbing.  It  is  sometimes  a  difficult 
matter  to  "head  off"  one  of  these  young 
girls  "just  over"  from  her  evident  in- 
tention to  scrub  the  house  in  its  en- 
tirety, regardless  of  propriety  or  mod- 
eration. Another  attribute  which  can 
usually  be  counted  on  is  strength.  How- 
ever arduous  the  day's  work,  it  is  an 
unheard-of  thing  for  them  to  admit 
being  tired;  and  any  sohcitous  enquiry 
to  that  effect  only  elicits  a  disdainful 
"Nej"  uttered  in  the  very  acme  of 
scorn.  They  are  passionately  fond  of 
music,  and  sing  Hke  nightingales  about 
their  work.  Oftentimes  they  are  very 
creditable  performers  on  the  guitar  or 
mandohn. 

Generally  speaking,  the  newly-arrived 
Swedish  girl  is  good-hearted  and  polite. 
After  the  somewhat  brusque  and  inde- 
pendent manners  of  our  own  domestics, 
the  quaint  little  courtesy  and  respectful 
handshake  with  which  all  maids  of  this 
nationality  are  wont  to  acknowledge 
any  trifling  favour,  come  gratefully. 
One  little  pleasant-faced  Swede  known 
to  the  wTiter — Oliva  by  name — pos- 
sessed an  instinctive  politeness  which 
would  have  graced  any  rank  in  life.  Her 
appreciative  "t'ank  you"  greeted  ever}-- 
thing  that  could  in  the  remotest  degree 
claim  gratitude.  On  one  occasion,  when 
there  had  been  an  accident  to  a  tumbler, 
she  came  to  her  mistress  with  a  regret- 
ful confession  and  presented  her  little 
purse,  begging  her  to  take  "pennies" 
to  buy  a  new  one.  Needless  to  say,  the 
"pennies"  were  not  taken. 

It  would  be  untrue,  as  well  as  con- 
trary to  the  intention  of  the  writer,  to 
imply  that  these  girls  are  faultless.  The 
normal  Swede  girl  has  a  quick  temper — 
a  white  flash,  often  excited  by  the  most 
trivial  of  causes.  But  one  can  always 
flee   the   avalanche   of   foreign    invective 


(which,  though  unintelHgible,  is  doubt- 
less of  a\\'ful  import),  and  a  speedy  re- 
turn finds  the  kitchen  beatific  with  the 
angeUc  presence  of  its  inmate.  An  open 
flash  of  temper,  soon  over,  is,  however, 
often  preferable  to  the  shabby  species 
sometimes  exhibited  among  domestics 
of  our  own  nationality,  and  which  was 
displayed  by  a  certfdn  village  maid  whom 
the  writer  once  employed  in  a  case  of 
emergency.  The  paucity  of  her  capa- 
bilities was  only  equalled  by  the  ex- 
ceeding badness  of  their  execution.  She 
confided  to  a  neighbour's  maid,  over 
the  garden  fence,  that  if  "Miss  Man,-" 
asked  her  to  wash  the  dining-room  floor 
on  Saturday,  she  was  going  to  tell  her 
to  do  it  herself.  This  so  impressed  the 
admiring  neighbour's  maid  that  the 
story  gained  circulation. 

The  loyalty  which  most  Swede  girls 
display  among  themselves  with  refer- 
ence to  their  respective  "places"  is 
sometimes  almost  ludicrous,  but  it  is  a 
satisfaction  to  a  housewife  to  know  that 
her  private  household  concerns  are  not 
being  discussed  with  all  the  other  serv- 
ants in  the  community  every  "afternoon 
out."  On  the  contrary,  the  average 
Swede  girl  seems  to  consider  it  a  point 
of  honour  not  to  gossip  about  any  hap- 
penings of  a  personal  nature  which  may 
occur  in  the  establishment  with  which 
she  is  connected.  A  Swede  girl  named 
Hilder,  for  example,  is  the  type  of  girl 
(rarely  found  now-a-days)  who  would 
literally  be  "faithful  imto  death"  in  the 
interests  of  her  mistress.  She  has  re- 
mained in  the  same  family  ever  since  she 
left  the  home-land,  nearly  four  years  ago. 
Nor  has  the  subject  of  her  leaving  been 
broached  on  either  side  during  all  that 
time.  On  one  occasion,  her  mistress 
had  requested  her  to  stay  up  until  she 
and  her  husband  returned  from  a  social 
function  which  would  keep  them  out 
until  very  late;  adding  that  she  might 
lie  dowTi  on  the  dining-room  sofa  if  she 
became  sleepy.  Hilder's  reply  was  char- 
acteristic. She  expressed  her  entire  will- 
ingness to  sit  up,  notwithstanding  the 
fact  that  she  had  to  rise  early  the  next 
morning,   and    concluded,   earnestly:    "I 

would  sleep  on  de  floor    if  Mrs.   E 

wanted  mc  to." 


SWKDK    GIKJ.S    FOR    ("AXADIAN    HOMES 


549 


Another  Caiuidiaji  huusewife  had  been 
giving  explicit  directions  to  her  Swedish 
domestic  whom  she  w'as  leaving  in  charge 
of  everything,  while  she  herself  went 
away  to  the  country  for  a  couple  of 
months.  Instead  of  grumbling  at  the 
additional  work  involved,  the  girl's  face 
fairly  shone  with  interested  affection. 

"Good-bye,  Mrs.  Nelson,"  she  said, 
heartily,  at  parting.  "I  hopes  you  will 
have  beautiful  Jun." 

In  the  average  city  or  country  home 
where  the  one  "general  servant"  is  a 
time-honoured     institution,     the     strong. 


alert  Swede  girl,  able  at  the  out.set  to 
shoulder  all  the  rougher  parts  of  the 
housework,  and  willing  and  intelligent 
enough  to  subsequently  undertake  the 
more  complicated  branches,  is  a  dis- 
tinct advantage. 

Without  doubt,  the  difficulty  in  ob- 
taining trained  domestics,  coupled  with 
the  exorbitant  wages  and  privileges  de- 
manded, is  contributing  to  increase  the 
patronage  of  Swede  girls  "just  over." 
But  it  is  also  true  that  their  many  good 
qualities  are  in  themselves  an  adver- 
tisement. 


OH,  THE    TRI.A.LS   OF  AN   EARLY   EASTER ! 


The  Woodpecker's  Revenge 


Bv  HAROLD  SANDS 


Story  0/  the  totem  pole  as  handed  down  by  the  Indians  0} 
Clayoquot,  and  the  moral  it  teaches  to  all  men 


HIS  is  the  story  of  the  totem 
pole,  told  by  the  Indians  of 
Clayoquot,  west  coast  of 
Vancouver  Island,  in  their 
I  native  language,  a  barbar- 
ous tongue,  to  the  Rev.  W.  J.  Stone,  and 
by  him  translated  into  English  for  the 
recorder,  so  that  it  be  not  lost  with  the 
race  that  is  slowly  but  surely  merging 
with  the  past.  It  is  a  stor\-  as  old  as 
Eve,  yet  as  new  as  the  last  bom 
salmon. 

All  totems  have  a  history;  they  are  the 
means  by  which  the  Indians  hand  down 
their  traditions  and  legends.  The  totem 
of  the  Woodpecker,  carved  out  of  whale- 
bone, was  exhibited  at  the  World's  Fair 
at  St.  Louis,  but  he  who  took  a  chair 
could  not  read,  nor  could  he  who  ran. 
He  who  would  translate  a  totem  must 
be  of  the  elect.  He  must  dwell  in  the 
wilderness,  and  his  ways  must  be  wise. 

Lthekle-mit,  the  Woodpecker,  was  an 
Indian  chief,  a  tyhee  of  the  West  Coast, 
and  his  home  was  at  Esouwista,  a  bald 
patch  on  the  Pacific,  hnng  east  of  Point 
Cox,  at  the  entrance  to  Clayoquot  Sound. 
Fair  was  his  wife,  and  lovely  to  behold, 
and  by  reason  of  her  beauty  came  the 
totem  pole  and  its  wondrous  story. 

Upon  this  alluring  creature  the  Thun- 
derbird  cast  eyes,  even  as  David  allowed 
his  fancy  to  w'ander.  The  Thunderbird 
made  his  home  at  Houchuklitzit,  in  Bar- 
clay Sound,  at  the  entrance  to  the  far- 
famed  Albemi  Canal,  still  noted  for  its 
prohfic  runs  of  salmon.  It  was  on  the 
well-remembered  occasion  when  the 
Eagle,  accompanied  by  his  old  friend 
Noo-noo-pitzmik,  the  Owl,  went  to  visit 
the  Woodpecker  and  his  dear  tillicum, 
the  Muschimit,  that  the  shadow  of  de- 
sire passed  across  the  friendship  of  a 
thousand  years. 

550 


Then  it  was  that  peace  passed  from 
the  West  Coast. 

No  sooner  had  the  Thunderbird  en- 
tered the  home  of  the  Woodpecker  than 
he  fell  a  victim  to  the  charms  of  the 
woman  therein,  and  immediately  he 
began  to  lay  plans  for  an  elopement. 
(Among  the  Indians  it  is  not  necessary 
for  the  woman  to  be  a  consenting  party 
to  an  elopement;  to  the  \-ictor  belongs 
the  spoil — the  one  who  gains  her  gets 
her).  The  Thunderbird  compared  him- 
self to  the  Woodpecker,  and  already  he 
saw  the  latter's  wife  installed  in  his  own 
home  at  Houchuklitzit. 

At  the  conclusion  of  a  feast  which  the 
Woodpecker  gave  in  honour  of  his  guests, 
the  Eagle  flapped  his  wings  and  at  once 
a  terrific  thunderstorm  arose.  (It  is 
the  belief  of  the  West  Coast  Indians  that 
thunder  is  caused  by  the  Eagle  flapping 
his  unngs).  Esouwista  was  deluged  Math 
hail,  large  stones  falling  and  killing  many 
of  Chief  Woodpecker's  people.  During 
the  excitement  the  Thunderbird  carried 
off  the  chief's  wife. 

When  the  tribe  of  the  Woodpecker  had 
recovered  from  their  fright  they  were 
overwhelmed  with  shame  to  think  they 
should  have  allowed  the  wife  of  their 
chief  to  be  carried  off  in  this  disgraceful 
manner.  CalHng  a  council,  they  sought 
the  advice  of  the  great  lawyer,  the  Snipe 
(Ai-po-ik).  The  learned  one  suggested 
a  plan  for  the  recovery  of  the  woman, 
which  commended  itself  to  the  whole  tribe. 

"Our  warriors,"  said  he,  "mil  change 
themselves  into  salmon-berries  as  soon 
as  they  reach  the  home  of  the  Thunder- 
bird. The  women,  including  the  wife 
of  the  Woodpecker,  will  come  to  pick 
the  salmon-berries  and  the  warriors  will 
assume  their  proper  shapes  and  carr}' 
the  women  awav." 


THE    WOODPECKER'S    REVENGE 


551 


When  near  Houchuklitzit  the  warriors 
transformed  themselves  into  red  and 
\ellow  berries,  luscious  fruit  which 
charmed  the  women  of  the  Thunderbird's 
tribe.  But  before  the  latter  could  pick 
any  berries,  the  Owl,  always  wise,  dis- 
covered the  ruse.  He  called  out  to  the 
women  to  beware,  and  they,  becoming 
alarmed,  ran  home. 

Ai-po-ik  was  consulted  again  by  the 
disappointed  Woodpecker  warriors.  This 
time  he  advised  their  becoming  salmon. 
They  filled  the 
stream  which  ran 
by  the  Thunder- 
bird's  ranch.  News 
of  the  big  run  of 
fish  was  conveyed 
to  the  Thunderbird, 
and  the  women 
went  down  to  catch 
the  salmon.  The 
Owl  accompanied 
the  Woodpecker's 
wife  to  the  stream. 
The  Wise  One  was 
still  suspicious.  The 
salmon  noticed  the 
woman  coming  with 
the  old  man  (the 
Owl).  The  latter 
filled  his  canoe  with 
the  fish,  and  among 
them  was  a  prime 
salmon,  none  other 
than  Lthekle-mit, 
the  Woodpecker, 
himself. 

"  Guard  well  that 
king  salmon,"  said 
the  Thunderbird  to 

the  woman  when  the  Owl  exhibited  his 
prize. 

When  nobody  else  seemed  to  be  lis- 
tening the  salmon  spoke  to  the  woman. 

"I  am  Lthekle-mit,  take  care  of  me," 
it  said. 

The  wife  immediately  recognised  her 
lord.  She  rolled  vip  the  big  salmon  in 
her  grass  blanket.     Again  it  said: 

"Take  care  of  me;  take  every  care  of 
my  bone;  do  not  give  it  to  yoiu*  man." 

(The  Indians  are  very  particular  with 
regard  to  the  bone  of  salmon,  and,  rather 
than  have  it  destroyed,  they  will  throw 


OLD   QUISTO,  WHO    TOLD   THE    STORY  OF  THE 
TOTEM    IN    HIS    NATIVE   L.^NGUAGE 

Special  photogruph  jar  The  Canadian  Magazine 
by  S.  Stone 


it  into  the  river  out  of  respect  to  the  fish. 
They  contend  that  the  salmon  is  really 
their  friend,  and,  as  is  well  known  on 
the  Coast,  an  Indian  can  catch  salmon 
better  than  a  white  man  can.  Indians 
will  not  cut  a  salmon  section-wise  nor 
slit  it  up  the  belly.  To  destroy  the 
backbone  would  be  to  disgrace  the  sal- 
mon). 

The  woman  carried  her  real  husband, 
in  the  guise  of  a  salmon,  into  the  house, 
put  him  on  a  fine  mat,  cut  him,  taking 
care  of  even  the 
blood  and  saving 
the  offal.  The 
Thunderbird  want- 
ed a  piece  of  the 
fish,  but  she  plead- 
ed that  it  was  really 
only  a  small  salmon 
when  the  bone  was 
cut  out,  and  she 
wanted  it  for  her- 
self. Kwateat,  the 
Mink,  the  smartest 
a  njimal  of  all  be- 
cause he  could  lie, 
drew  the  Thunder- 
bird's  attention 
away  from  the 
woman.  He  had 
been  speared  as  a 
king  salmon,  too, 
and  placed  on  the 
drying  rack.  He 
broke  the  rack, 
which  made  the 
Thunderbi  r  d's 
people  angry.  They 
placed  him  on  the 
floor,  w'hich  made 
his  back  ache.  There  he  w^as  left  all  night. 
For  hours  during  the  night  the  wo- 
man lay  awake  scheming  how  she  could 
get  away  with  Lthekle-mit.  ^Vhen  day 
broke  he  solved  the  problem  for  her. 
In  obedience  to  his  command,  she  bore 
his  backbone  to  the  salt  water.  Many 
people  were  on  the  beach  and  several 
oftered  to  carry  the  bone  for  her,  but 
she  would  let  none  take  it  from  her.  She 
walked  into  the  sea  against  the  protests 
of  all  the  Thunderbird's  tribe. 

The    watchers    saw    her    go    into    the 
water  as  far  as  her  waist. 


552 


THE    CANADL\N    MAGAZINE 


OLD  "aunt  jeaxie,"  a  cextexarian  whose 

AXCESTORS   FOUGHT   IX    THE    BATTLES 

BETWEEN  THE   "THUXDERBIRD" 

AND   THE    "woodpecker" 

Photograph  by  Rev.  W .  J.  Stone 

Next  they  saw  her  bend  down  into 
the  sea  with  the  bone. 

The  people  then  saw  two  salmon  sum- 
ming away. 

The  Woodpecker  had  recovered  his  wife. 

As  the  pair  swam  away  they  were 
joined  by  all  the  other  salmon.  Kwat- 
eat,  the  Mink,  broke  down  the  house  he 
was  in  and  made  for  the  ocean  while  all 
the  Thunderbird's  people  were  put  in 
great  commotion.  The  Eagle  and  his 
ally,  the  Owl,  greatly  chagrined  at  the 
turn  affairs  had  taken,  immediately 
brought  on  a  thunderstorm,  the  Eagle 
flapping  his  \A-ings  at  a  furious  rate. 


But  the  salmon  escaped. 

Again  the  scene  is  changed  to  the  big 
beach  Esouwista,  where  Ko-ish-in-mit, 
the  Crow,  is  cawing  loudly  over  the 
scene  of  desolation  that  the  thunderstorm 
has  brought.  The  Woodpecker  retiims 
to  find  his  home  destroyed. 

A  council  of  war  is  immediately  held. 
The  Snipe  suggests  that  with  a  whale 
the  Woodpecker  could  revenge  his  wrongs 
and  he  is  sent  to  Wreck  Bay,  Ek-toop- 
mit,  to  request  the  loan  of  one. 

Once  more  the  Woodpecker's  war- 
riors launch  forth  to  battle,  and  again 
their  objective  point  is  the  home  of  the 
Thunderbird. 

That  ver}-  morning  a  right  whale  was 
sighted  by  one  of  the  Eagle's  people, 
who  immediately  notified  the  Owl,  who 
was  outside  the  house  on  his  sitting  car- 
pet, a  cedar  plank.  The  Owl  carried 
the  news  to  the  Thunderbird,  and  Teet- 
ska  at  once  flew  off  to  where  the  whale 
was,  dug  his  talons  into  him,  but  foimd 
him  stronger  to  tackle  than  he  had 
thought.  The  brothers  of  the  Thunder- 
bird flew  to  his  assistance.  Others  of 
the  tribe  joined  them. 

^WTien  all  had  their  talons  in  the  whale 
their  claws  were  clinched  on  the  inside. 
The  whale  (Tha-kou-in)  turned  out 
to  be  simply  a  warrior's  canoe  in  the 
form  of  a  le\-iathan.  Within  were  the 
pick  of  the  warriors  of  the  tribe  of  Lthe- 
kle-mit,  the  Woodpecker.  The  Thun- 
derbird, his  brothers,  and  those  braves 
who  had  joined  in  the  attack  on  Tha- 
kou-in,  the  Whale,  were  all  drowned. 

Thus  was  the  Woodpecker  avenged. 

This  is  the  story  the  totem  tells  and 
its  moral  each  man  mav  read  for  himself. 


A  Springtime  Lyric 

BY   IXGLIS   MORSE 

OBIRD,  as  wing  on  wing 
Thou  cleavest  morning  light, 
In  all  thy  wonted  plight 
Wilt  sing,  for  ever  sing? 

Sing  to  me  once  again 
The  glad  old  song  of  earth — 
Of  life  and  lasting  worth 

And  visions  not  in  vain. 


Barry  the  Bad 


B\  JKAX  BLEW  FAT 


Telling  how  good  resolutions  battling  against    inherited 
weaknesses  may  in  the  end  prevail 


HE  red-haired  young  giant 
could  not  call  to  mind  the 
time  he  had  not  borne  the 
name  of  Barry  the  Bad,  and 
lived  up  to  it.  His  father 
was  Mike  O'Hallern,  called  "Mike  o' 
the  Bush,"  to  distinguish  him  from  re- 
spectable Mike  O'Hallern,  owner  of  the 
finest  farm  in  the  settlement.  Kitty 
O'Hallern,  his  mother,  was  well  and  un- 
favourably known.  She  was  methodical 
in  her  habits.  All  week  she  busied  her- 
self knitting  the  thick  woollen  socks  worn 
by  the  lumbermen  in  the  camps  spread  out 
along  the  great  wood  bordering  the  river. 
Saturday  afternoons  she  walked  to  Camp- 
bell's Corners,  sold  the  result  of  her  labour 
at  the  little  general  store,  crossed  over  to 
the  rough  board  tavern  and  began  to 
spend  the  money  without  delay.  Along 
about  sunset  she  wended  her  way  home- 
wards, singing  Tom  Moore's  ballads  at 
the  top  of  her  sweet  but  unsteady  voice. 

Kitty  was  what  her  admiring  husband 
called  a  great  figure  of  a  woman,  and  if 
the  little  parson,  meeting  her  on  her  re- 
turn trip  soon  after  his  arrival  in  the 
place,  was  somewhat  discomposed,  it  is 
not  to  be  wondered  at.  He  had  seen 
drunken  women  before,  but  never  one 
like  this  creature  in  short  flannel  skirt  and 
smock  of  stout  blue  jean,  with  a  man's 
cap  on  her  head  and  a  man's  pair  of  top 
boots  on  her  feet.  If  he  were  still  further 
discomposed  when  she  came  to  an  abrupt 
halt  before  him,  and  ceased  her  singing 
long  enough  to  tell  what  she  thought  of 
him,  of  his  doctrine  as  a  means  of  grace, 
and  to  threaten  him  with  what  would  hap- 
pen if  ever  he  interfered  with  her  or  hers, 
it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at. 

"And  this  is  the  mother  of  Barry,  the 
grim  young  giant  I  met  last  night!"  said 
the  parson,  and  shook  his  head. 

4 — 553 


"Don't  meddle  with  the  O'Hallerns," 
was  a  common  saying  in  the  little  Dur- 
ham settlement.  They  were  North  of 
Ireland  folk,  lawless,  vindictive.  For 
years  they  had  been  a  menace  to  their 
neighbours,  and  made  life  a  burden  to 
such  as  dared  to  cross  their  purposes  or 
give  offence.  They  were  commonly  hated 
and  feared,  despised  yet  cringed  to.  For 
their  few  supporters  they  were  ready  to 
lay  down  their  lives,  for  their  host  of 
enemies  they  had  craft  and  cruelty.  They 
stuck  at  nothing.  McAllister,  a  High- 
lander, hailing  first  of  all  from  the  sheep 
farms  below  Inverness,  and  last  of  all 
from  the  ambitious  Canadian  town  of 
Peterborough,  found  this  out  when  he 
came  to  the  neighbourhood  to  take  pos- 
session of  some  land  he  had  bought. 
Dennis  O'Hallern,  eldest  son  of  the  house, 
held  possession,  having  squatted  on  it  the 
year  previously.  He  not  only  refused  to 
vacate,  but  with  lusty  words  of  hate  on 
his  lips,  and  trusty  shot-gun  in  hand,  he 
defied  the  astonished  Scot. 

"Good  for  Dennis!"  said^  Mike  o'  the 
Bush. 

"A  broth  of  a  boy!"  said  Mike's  wife, 
Kitty. 

They  were  used  to  intimidating  the 
neighbours;  it  was  a  pleasant  diversion. 
But  McAllister  knew  something  about 
feuds  and  high-handedness  himself.  He 
disappeared  from  the  scene  with  a  haste 
which  went  far  toward  convincing  the 
enemy  that  he  was  a  coward  pure  and 
simple.  Dennis  soon  relaxed  his  vigil- 
ance, and  went  out  amongst  his  cronies  to 
talk  over  the  easy  victory.  He  returned  to 
find  the  surprise  of  his  life.  The  Scot 
was  in  possession,  everything  belonging 
to  Dennis  was  piled  up  on  the  highway — 
everything  save  the  shot-gun.  From  the 
barred  window  McAllister  called  to  him 


554< 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


that  if  he,  or  one  of  his  breed,  came  near 
the  lace  whateflfer,  he  would  get  more 
of  that  weapon  than  was  healthy  at  all, 
at  all. 

This  was  in  early  spring.  Just  after 
harvest  McAllister's  barn  was  burned. 
Next  year  he  stacked  his  grain.  Every 
stack  went  up  in  smoke. 

What!  Was  one  red-whiskered,  stut- 
tering Scotchman  to  beard  the  O'Hallerns 
in  their  den  ? 

Only  for  the  daughter  of  the  house 
there  would  probably  have  been  murder 
done.  Many  times  Molly  had  given  the 
reckless  McAllister  warning.  A  friend- 
ship, ripening  into  something  warmer,  had 
sprung  up  between  the  two.  At  this 
crisis  the  girl  faced  her  family,  denounced 
the  cowardly  attack  on  one  man,  and 
boldly  made  known  her  intention  of  cast- 
ing in  her  lot  with  the  enemy  for  good  and 
all. 

Then  spoke  Mike  o'  the  Bush  with 
authority:  If  Molly  wanted  the  man  he 
was  hers,  no  harni  should  come  to  him 
through  an  O'Hallern.  As  for  the  land, 
it  should  go  to  McAllister  as  Molly's 
dower. 

They  let  McAllister  alone  "after  that, 
but  continued  active  in  other  directions. 
It  was  a  frequent  occurrence  for  some 
man  who  had  incurred  their  hatred  to 
find  his  cattle  poisoned,  his  horses  lamed, 
or  his  crops  destroyed. 

In  the  midst  of  these  things  Barry  "got 
converted."  To  quote  his  proud  mother, 
Barry  heretofore  had  been  the  flower  o' 
the  flock.  He  was  a  tall,  lean,  broad- 
shouldered  fellow,  with  hair  thick  and 
ruddy,  blue  eyes,  proclaiming  him  dare- 
devil; and  he  had  as  ugly  a  jaw  as  one 
could  wish  to  see.  He  was  twenty-one 
when  converted,  and  the  event  shook  the 
neighbourhood  to  its  foundations,  and 
shattered  the  pride  and  hope  of  his  family. 

It  was  a  day  of  bitterness  for  the 
O'Hallerns.  Barry,  six-foot  Barry,  in 
response  to  some  powerful  influence — cer- 
tainly not  in  response  to  the  little  parson's 
eloquence,  for  he  had  none — stood  up  in 
the  log  school-house  used  as  a  church, 
stood  up,  white-faced  and  dim-eyed, 
walked  deliberately  to  the  altar,  and  knelt 
with    clasped    hands    held    heavenward. 

A  hush  fell   on   the  people.     Nobody 


saw  Barry  for  two  days  afterwards;  then 
he  came  amongst  them  with  such  a  light 
on  his  face  that  the  faithful  said:  ''A 
miracle!" 

As  for  the  O'Hallerns,  they  cast  him  off 
with  one  accord. 

"The  shame  of  it!"  cried  Kitty. 
"There's  Dennis  and  wee  Bob,  and  the 
others,  following  in  their  father's  steps  in 
a  way  to  make  a  man  proud,  so  they  are,, 
and  Barry,  big-feeling,  good-looking; 
Barry,  joining  himself  to  the  canting. 
Methodys,  and  going  to  the  divil  giner- 
ally!     The  shame  of  it,  indade!" 

The  father  said,  with  an  oath,  that  a 
week's  religion  would  last  Barry  a  life- 
time.    He  knew  Barry. 

Barry,  after  the  manner  of  men  deeply 
in  earnest,  had  little  to  say.  There  were 
confessions  to  make,  and  he  made  them; 
reparations  to  work  out,  and  he  worked 
them  out. 

"I  turned  your  cattle  into  your  grain."" 
he  said  to  Squire  Heath,  without  lifting; 
his  eyes,  "and  harmed  you  every  way  I 
could.  I  haven't  liked  you.  I  don't  like 
you  now.  You  sent  your  girl  away  to 
school  because  she — she  didn't  hate  me 
— but  I  ask  your  pardon." 

"  Glad  you're  turning  over  a  new  leaf,'* 
said  the  squire,  with  a  long  and  searching 
glance.  "  You'll  make  a  man  yet.  But 
hearken,"  holding  up  a  finger,  "my 
opinion  is  unchanged.  I'd  rather  see  my 
daughter  in  her  coffin  than  married  to  an 
O'Hallern.  The  badness  is  bred  in  the 
bone." 

"I  know  it;  I  know  it,"  and  big  drops 
of  sweat  stood  on  Barry's  forehead.  "  The 
badness  is  part  and  parcel  of  me.  Think 
you  I'll  ever  feel  sure  enough  of  myself 
to  think  of  one  as  good  and  gentle  as  your 
girl  ?  All  I  want  is  a  chance  to  make  up 
for  the  past  and  to  keep  straight.  It's 
easy  for  some  to  be  good,  'tisn't  for  me. 
The  oath  slips  out;  hate  flashes  up.  I 
knocked  a  man  down  last  night  (the 
voice  had  a  tremble  in  it,  but  the  mouth 
was  resolute).  I'm  afraid  of  myself, 
bitterly  afraid  at  times,  but,  with  the  help 
of  God,  I'm  going  on." 

"Barry,"  and  the  old  squire  grasped 
his  hand,  "you'll  win  out — you've  good 
stuff  in  you.  But  get  out  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood, shake  the  dust  of  this  place  from 


BARRY    THE    BAD 


555 


your  feet,  and  start  afresh  in  a  new  place. 
The  influence  here  — " 

"Yes,  I'm  going,"  interrupted  Barry, 
"but  I'm  coming  back  (all  at  once  he 
looked  a  man,  strong,  resolute),  coming 
back  in  God's  good  time." 

The  place  knew  Barry  no  more  for 
years.  He  went  to  another  county,  hired 
out  to  the  owner  of  a  .saw-mill,  became 
foreman,  made  and  saved  considerable 
money.  Then  that  mighty  energ}'  of  his 
was  directed  into  another  channel.  He 
found  his  way  to  Toronto  and  began  his 
career  as  a  student. 

When  a  year  or  so  later  word  came  to 
the  O'Hallern  settlement  that  Barry  had 
chosen  the  ministry  for  a  profession, 
Mike  o'  the  Bush  walked  eighteen  miles 
through  snow  and  sleet  to  have  the  name 
of  his  unnatural  son  struck  from  his  will. 
The  only  word  of  cheer  came  from  Molly 
McAllister,  who,  in  a  poorly-written 
scrawl,  wished  him  well,  reminded  him 
that  he  was  near  and  dear  to  her  in  spite 
of  all,  and  begged  him  not  to  be  ashamed 
of  her  when  he  came  to  be  a  gentleman. 
Barry's  cheeks  were  wet  as  he  read  it.  As 
a  student  he  was  a  wonder.  The  knowl- 
edge of  his  own  ignorance  was  a  goad 
which  urged  him  to  a  pace  that  astonished 
everyone.  He  was  handicapped,  yet  he 
forged  ahead.  Anger,  revenge,  love  of 
friend,  hatred  of  foe,  these  were  bred  in 
his  bone.  Inherited  vices  battled  with 
good  resolves,  battled  ceaselessly  all  the 
long,  hard  march  toward  learning,  and 
grace,  and  self-control.  He  stubbornly 
refused  to  look  back;  he  was  a  born  con- 
queror— the  eyes  and  the  jaws  told 
that. 

Sometimes,  not  often,  he  thought  of 
Margaret  Heath,  but  though  she  was  at 
school  in  the  same  city,  he  made  no  at- 
tempt to  see  her.  Why  should  he?  She 
had  no  place  in  his  plans;  his  life  was  to 
be  one  of  hardship  and  steady  self-denial. 
About  the  time  he  had  this  firmly  settled 
in  his  mind,  he  met  her.  Barry  could  not 
remember  the  time  when  he  had  not  loved 
to  look  at  her.  He  was  looking  at  her 
now.  She  smiled,  and  the  thrill  which 
had  run  through  his  veins  in  the  old 
days  raced  through  them  again.  Barry 
the   minister   told   himself  that   she  was 


something  a  little  lower  than  the  angels, 
that  she  had  a  beautiful  soul.  Barry  the 
man  knew  without  the  telling  that  she 
had  a  slim,  round  body,  rose-leaf  skin 
and  eyes  that  said  a  thousand  things. 
Knowing  so  much,  he  loved  her  in  a  very 
human  fashion.  But  he  continued  to  put 
all  thought  of  her  away.  Out  of  respect 
to  old  Squire  Heath,  and  out  of  respect 
to  something  stern  and  strong  in  his  own 
nature,  he  refused  to  think  of  Margaret. 
He  knew  the  task  awaiting  him.  He  was 
going  back  where  Mike  o'  the  Bush  held 
sway,  back  where  he  himself  was  known 
as  the  outcast  of  old,  back  where  his 
mother  sang  Moore's  love  songs  with 
maudlin  sweetness,  back  to  the  shame 
and  the  struggle.  Why?  Because  God 
called  him  back.  It  was  his  to  stand  and 
preach  to  those  he  had  sinned  with  and 
sinned  against. 

The  strain,  the  close  confinement,  and. 
hard  study  of  his  last  year  told  on  him. 
He  began  to  know  irritability  and  de- 
spondency, and  to  find  himself  in  the  grasp 
of  dark  humours.  It  was  while  trying 
to  keep  down  an  unreasonable  anger 
against  existing  conditions  that  he  found 
himself  one  of  a  group  in  Queen's  Park 
on  an  April  afternoon,  when  bud  and  leaf 
and  new  greenness  were  making  the  world 
lovely. 

Young  Henderson,  dapper  and  gentle- 
manly, was  beside  Margaret  Heath.  The 
two  were  discussing  the  chief  character 
in  a  popular  book, 

"A  dastardly  fellow,"  volunteered  Mar- 
garet. 

"What  can  you  e.xpect?  Nobility  can- 
not be  acquired;  it  is  an  inborn  virtue." 
Henderson's  tone  was  didactic.  "Show 
me  a  man  born  into  an  atmosphere  of 
littleness,  revenge  and  scheming,  and  you 
show  me  a  man  to  whom  greatness  and 
truth  must  ever  be  strangers." 

"  Your  view  is  a  narrow  one."  Barry 
spoke  with  emphasis.  His  own  story  was 
not  unknown.  Exaggerated  reports  of 
the  prowess  of  Mike  o'  the  Bush  and  sing- 
ing Kitty  had  reached  many  of  his  fellow- 
students. 

Young  Henderson  was  not  a  bad  fellow 
at  heart,  but  this  ruddy-haired  giant  had 
distanced  him  in  his  studies;    and,  more 


556 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


presumptuous  still,  had  dared  to  lift  his 
eyes  to  Margaret  Heath.  It  was  not  to' 
be  borne. 

"Excuse  me,  O'Hallern,  nothing  per- 
sonal meant,"  his  tone  was  insolent. 
*■  Wouldn't  have  expressed  myself  so 
freely  had  I  remembered."  His  smile  was 
more  insolent  than  his  tone.  "But  the 
fact  remains  that  heredity  is  stronger  than 
anything  save  grace,  stronger  than  that 
sometimes." 

He  might  well  say  so.  The  way  Barry's 
right  arm  shot  out  was  worthy  of  Mike 
o'  the  Bush  in  his  brawniest  days.  Hen- 
derson measured  his  length  on  the  ground. 

''When  you  want  to  insult  me,"  cried 
Barry,  with  one  of  the  famous  O'Hallern 
oaths,  "do  it  when  we're  alone!" 

A  frightened  silence  fell  on  the  group. 
Henderson  got  up  slowly,  brushed  the 
dust  from  his  clothes,  turned  with  a  def- 
erential air  to  the  girls: 

"Pardon  me  for  bringing  you  into  such 
company,"  he  said.  "The  fellow  has 
given  me  what  I  might  jokingly  call  a 
striking  proof  of  the  truth  of  my  theory 
— to  wit,  the  man  who  is  born  a  ruffian, 
stays  one." 

Barr\'  was  not  looking  at  him,  but  at 
Margaret.  To  his  excited  fancy  she  typi- 
fied contempt  for  him  and  his,  for  his 
ideals  and  failures,  his  endeavours  and 
his  abasement. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said  thickly, 
and  left  them. 

Then  it  was  that  the  devil  met  him, 
and  led  him  away  into  the  soft  loneliness 
of  the  spring  twilight  to  tempt  him. 
What  had  prayer  and  fasting  wrought? 
He  was  no  higher  for  all  his  striving,  all 
his  climbing.  Henderson,  with  his  cul- 
ture, his  pride  of  birth;  Henderson,  who 
had  all  that  Barry  lacked,  and  with  these, 
Margaret's  love!  The  desire  to  crush 
him  flamed  up  hot  and  strong.  The  sap 
of  Barr\''s  genealogical  tree  tingled  in  his 
veins. 

Presently  a  mist  crept  between  him  and 
the  daffodil  sky,  and  through  it  the  stars 
blinked  softly.  The  shadows  deepened, 
the  quiet  and  the  stillness  of  night  spread 
till  all  the  earth  was  hushed. 

Prone  on  his  face  lay  Barry,  battling 
with  instincts  which  scoffed  at  repres- 
sion, with  pride,  and  doubt,  and  despair. 


But  he  came  off  conqueror. 

The  seating  capacity  of  the  church, 
newly  erected  on  Squire  Heath's  "town- 
line  corner,"  was  taxed  to  the  utmost 
that  Easter  Sabbath  which  saw  Barry  in 
its  pulpit  for  the  first  time.  Few  of  his 
hearers  ever  quite  forgot  the  sermon  he 
preached.  Barry  had  not  erred  in  think- 
ing he  had  received  the  "call." 

Mike  o'  the  Bush  sat  just  inside  the 
door.  To  show  his  contempt  for  the 
place  he  found  himself  in,  and  for  the 
man  who  preached,  he  kept  on  his  peaked 
cap.  Yet  he  listened  with  intentness,  and 
when  at  the  close  of  the  service  he  shuffled 
away,  it  might  have  been  noticed  that 
the  wicked  old  eyes  under  the  peaked 
cap  were  curiously  softened. 

Kitty  refused  to  go  to  the  church. 
"Flaunting  his  piety  in  the  face  o'  us!" 
was  her  bitter  comment. 

God  gives  this  good  old  earth  but  one 
Eastertide  a  year.  One  is  enough,  seeing 
that  into  it  is  crowded  the  sweetness  and 
promise  of  a  twelvemonth.  Barry  was 
thinking  this  as  he  turned  off  the  highway 
that  Sunday  afternoon,  and  took  the  short 
cut  through  the  wood  for  the  spot  he  had 
once  called  home. 

The  old  house,  the  pine  trees  straggling 
down  the  lane,  the  broken  gate — why, 
nothing  was  changed,  \\ould  they  give 
him  welcome?  He  meant  to  lay  claim  to 
their  affection.  He  needed  it,  nay,  all  at 
once,  he  longed  for  it  with  a  mighty  long- 
ing. No,  he  would  not  knock  like  a 
stranger,  he  would  lift  the  latch  in  the 
old  way  and — 

"Oh,  Mrs.  O'Hallern,  tn,-  not  to  shame 
him!  Make  it  as  easy  for  him  as  you  can. 
You  must  love  him  a  little,  must  be  proud 
of  him,  surely,  surely." 

It  was  ^largaret  Heath's  voice.  Barry 
did  not  go  in,  could  not,  in  fact.  He 
leaned  against  the  casement  and  listened 
dully  to  his  mother's  denunciation. 

"Proud  of  him  I  Proud  of  the  only 
hypocrite  of  my  flock  I  I'm  like  to  be  that, 
Margaret  Heath,  I  am,  indade."  The 
scorn  in  her  voice  pierced  poor  Barry's 
heart.  "And  the  modesty  of  you  to  come 
teaching  the  mother  that  bore  him  how 
she    should    carrv    herself    toward    him. 


HARRY     I'HK    BAD 


You  might  have  saved  your  breath.  'Tis 
many  a  day  since  Barry  has  been  son 
of  mine." 

"He  is  a  grand  man,  Mrs.  O'Hallern, 
if  you  only  knew  — " 

Barry  waited  to  hear  no  more.  Cione 
his  elation  of  soul,  gone  his  emotion  of 
tenderness  toward  his  own.  It  was  a 
very  human  Barry,  a  broken  Barry,  who 
took  his  way  down  the  lane,  and  leaned 
his  head  on  the  roadside  gate.  He  had 
known  pain  and  discouragement  before, 
but  this  wave  of  homesickness  and  heart- 
sickness  was  more  than  he  could  bear. 
What  was  that  about  gathering  figs  from 
thistles  and  grapes  from  thorns  ?  He  was 
an  O'Hallern,  and  the  badness  was  bred 
in  the  bone.  Someone  laid  a  hand  upon 
his  arm  and  spoke  to  him,  but  he  did  not 
lift  his  head. 

"  Go  away,  llargaret,"  he  said,  sullenly. 
"You  mean  to  be  kind,  but  you  don't  un- 
derstand.    Go  away." 

"Aren't  you  going  to  shake  hands  with 
me?     What!  You  won't  even  look  at  me?" 

There  never  was  a  warmer,  softer  voice 
than  Margaret's,  but  Barry  shook  his 
head  stubbornly. 

"What's  the  good?  You  know  what 
I  am,  that  ought  to  be  enough.  Don't 
Margaret."  There  was  almost  a  sob  in 
his  voice. 

Into  his  big  right  hand,  hanging  list- 
lessly at  his  side,  Margaret  had  slipped 
her  clinging  fingers.  He  lifted  a  haggard 
face  to  hers. 

"  You  know  that  I  love  you,  Margaret, 
have  loved  you  always,  always.  Your 
father  said  to  me  that  he  would  rather  see 
you  in  your  coffin  than  married  to  me. 
He  was  right."  Barry  squared  his  shoul- 
ders with  the  old  fierce  air  of  independence. 
"Quite  right,"  he  said.  "I  don't  want 
you  here,  Margaret;  I — I  can't  bear  it 
just  now.     Go  away,  dear." 

"  But  I've  something  to  tell  you,  Barry." 

Kitty,  watching  from  the  shelter  of  the 
low-growing  pines,  noted  jealously  that 
the  girl  kept  hold  of  his  hand. 

"Something  important,  listen!  Father 
and  I  had  a  long  talk  after  church.  It 
ended  with  my  having  full  permission  to" 
— a  pause — "  to  marry  you.  He  has  faith 
in   you,    so   have  I.     Shall  I  go  away?" 

The  radiance  of  the  sunshine,  the  breath 


of  promise  in  the  w  inds,  the  ecstacy  of  the 
robin's  song,  the  fragrance,  gladness  and 
hope  of  the  spring  day,  seemed  all  at  once 
to  fill  Barry's  heart,  and  light  liarry's 
face.     He  drew  a  step  nearer. 

"You'll  be  daughter  of  Mike  o'  the 
Bush  and  of  his  wife,  Kitty?"  His  voice 
was  wonderful  in  its  soft  solemnity. 

"Are  you  strong  enough  for  this, 
Margaret?  They  are  my  kith  and  kin, 
near  and  dear  to  me,  in  spite  of  all.  I 
could  not  bear  you  to  feel  scorn  of  them, 
Margaret.     It  would  break  my  heart." 

Kitty,  listening  greedily,  sank  back 
farther  among  the  pines,  but  her  head 
went  up  proudly.  "'Tis  in  the  O'Hal- 
lerns  to  stand  up  for  their  own,"  she 
muttered.     "Good  boy,  Barry!" 

But  what  was  Squire  Heath's  girl  say- 
ing: "Your  people  shall  be  mine — Mike 
o'  the  Bush  and  Kitty  can't  be  all  bad; 
there  must  be  something  noble  in  them, 
else  how  could  they  have  borne  a  son  like 
you,  Barry?" 

"She  shall  have  him,"  muttered  Kitty 
to  herself,  unhmited  condescension  in 
her  tone.  "Yes,  she  shall.  Kith  and 
kin  —  near  and  dear."  Into  -  the  eyes 
faded,  yet  fierce,  stole  two  hot  tears. 
"Bless  the  red  head  of  you,  Barry,  me 
boy!  I  must  go  tell  Mike  we've  to 
turn  over  a  new  leaf;  yes,  a  new  leaf,  do 
ye  mind." 

"You're  sure  you'll  not  be  sorry?"' 
Barry  was  saying. 

"Would  I  have  gone  this  far  had  I  not 
been  sure  ?  "  Margaret  half  turned  away, 
but  his  strong  arms  caught  and  imprisoned 
her.  His  ruddy  head  bent  low  over  her 
dark  tresses,  and — but  what  matter? 
The  way  of  a  man  with  a  maid  is  an  old, 
old  story,  and  the  Rev.  Barr\'  O'Hallern 
was  very  much  of  a  man. 

"If  a  hope  concerning  you  had  ever 
come  into  my  heart,  it  went  away  for  good 
and  all  that  day  in  the  park,"  he  said,  as 
they  walked  hand-in-hand  along  the  coun- 
try road.  "  You  must  have  been  desper- 
ately ashamed  of  me.  I  was  ashamed  of 
myself." 

"Listen,  Barry,"  smiling  up  at  him,  'T 
never  knew  how  much  I  loved  you  till 
you  knocked  Henderson  down." 

"Then,"  with  a  headlong  tumble  fronn 
grace,  "I'm  glad  I  did  it." 


How  Mackenzie  Failed 


By  JOHX  CHARLTON 


Reminiscences  oj  the  famous  Dominion  General  Elections  of  1878, 
with  a  defence  of  Mackenzie's  administration  of  the  treasury 


.^- 


jHE  holding  of  public  meet- 
ings in  various  parts  of  Can- 
ada by  the  leading  speakers 
of  each  party  followed  pretty 
closely  upon  the  prorogation 
of  the  House  of  Commons,  May  loth, 
1878.  Sir  John  A.  Macdonald  and  Mr. 
Mackenzie  were  both  active.  Sir  John's 
tour  was  made  in  company  with  Mr. 
Plumb  and  other  lieutenants.  On  a  few 
occasions  Sir  John  and  Mr.  Mackenzie 
met  and  engaged  in  a  discussion  of  public 
questions.  On  one  of  these  occasions  Mr. 
Mackenzie  made  a  scathing  arraignment 
of  Sir  John  and  his  colleagues  for  the 
great  political  crime  perpetrated  by 
them,  popularly  designated  "  The  Pacific 
Scandal,"  and  he  wound  up  that  branch 
of  his  subject  with  a  stinging  denunciation 
of  Sir  John,  as  the  leader  of  the  Govern- 
ment, for  his  perfidy  and  betrayal  of 
sacred  public  trusts.  Pausing  before 
taking  up  another  branch  of  the  questions 
with  which  he  was  dealing,  he  poured 
out  a  tumbler  of  water  and  drank  about 
one-half  of  it.  As  he  put  the  tumbler  down, 
Sir  John,  who  sat  just  at  his  side,  put  out 
his  hand  for  the  tumbler.  The  action 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  audience, 
and  caused  Mr.  Mackenzie  to  look  on  in 
some  surprise.  Lifting  the  tumbler  to  his 
lips  Sir  John  drank  the  water  that  Mr. 
Mackenzie  had  left,  then,  setting  the 
empty  tumbler  back  upon  the  table,  he 
slowly  said,  with  deep  solemnity  of  tone: 
"We  are  all  miserable  sinners."  As  Sir 
John  expected,  the  audience  seized  upon 
the  inference  that  while  he  was  not  perfect 
Mackenzie  was  little,  if  any,  better,  and 
the  roar  of  laughter  that  followed  rather 
disconcerted  the  Liberal  Premier. 

The  contest,  as  was  anticipated,  turned 
upon  the  question  of  a  protective  vs.  a 
revenue  tariff  policy.     Consen'ative  news- 

558 


papers  and  orators  made  extravagant 
promises,  and  indulged  in  absurd  pre- 
dictions as  to  the  advantages  that  would 
speedily  follow  the  adoption  of  the 
National  Policy,  as  it  was  called.  The 
tall  chimneys  of  manufacturing  establish- 
ments, it  was  asserted,  would  speedily 
arise  in  all  the  towns  and  cities.  Canada 
would  become  self-dependent  and  self- 
sustaining.  A  home  market  was  to  be 
furnished  for  all  the  productions  of  the 
soil;  the  value  of  farms  would  rapidly 
increase;  the  emigration  of  Canadians 
to  the  L'nited  States  would  practically 
cease,  and  the  farmer  was  to  be  protected 
from  the  competition  of  American  farm 
products  by  agricultural  duties;  the  price 
of  manufactured  articles  was  to  be  in- 
creased temporarily,  and  to  a  slight 
extent  only,  for  domestic  competition 
would  regulate  that  matter.  Promises 
as  to  the  character  of  proposed  tariff 
changes  could  be  freely  made  to  suit 
localities;  the  hobby  of  ever}-  man  would 
be  humoured;  the  desire  of  ever)'  man 
could  be  raet.  In  the  Maritime  Provinces 
a  readjustment  of  the  tariff  without  in- 
crease of  burden  could  be  promised; 
while  in  Ontario  such  a  scale  of  duties  as 
should  prove  effectually  protective  could 
be  promised.  The  manufacturers  under- 
stood perfectly  well  that  they  would  be 
masters  of  the  situation  and  could  dictate 
the  fiscal  policy  of  the  Government  when 
the  time  came  to  arrange  its  details,  and 
the  majority  of  those  manufacturers  who 
had  heretofore  been  Liberals,  deserted 
Mr.  Mackenzie  and  went  over  to  the 
enemy.  Perhaps  they  were  not  to  be 
blamed,  for  whatever  promises  the  ad- 
vocates of  the  new  policy  might  make, 
the  manufacturer  knew  that  all  the  ad- 
vantages to  flow  from  it  would  come  to  him. 
An    ineffectual   attempt   was   made   to 


HOW   MACKENZIE    FAILED 


559 


lasten  the  charge  of  extravagance  and 
corrupt  expenditure  upon  the  Mackenzie 
Administration.  The  stock  in  trade  used 
for  the  purpose  was  the  purchase  of  steel 
rails  in  excess  of  present  requirements; 
the  erection  of  a  wooden  building  at  Fort 
William  at  a  cost  of  $5,000,  known  as  the 
■"Neebing  Hotel,"  and  the  construction 
•of  a  lock  on  Rainy  River  known  as  St. 
Francis  Lock,  which  it  was  alleged  was 
an  unnecessary  expenditure,  and  one  that 
should  have  been  made  by  contract,  and 
not,  as  had  been  the  case,  by  day  labour. 
In  the  early  summer  I  addressed  meet- 
ings at  Orillia,  Stayner,  Fergus,  Orange- 
■ville,  and  other  points  in  Ontario.  I  was 
thoroughly  convinced  of  the  gravity  of 
the  situation,  and  sought  to  impress  upon 
Mr.  Mackenzie  the  necessity  for  thorough 
and  widely  extended  discussion.  My 
belief  was  that  the  dissolution  of  the 
House  should  be  deferred  as  long  as  pos- 
sible for  the  purpose  of  allowing  ample 
time  for  such  discussion.  Mr.  Mackenzie 
and  his  advisers  did  not  consider  my  fears 
well  founded,  and  were  quite  optimistic 
as  to  the  party  prospect.  In  reply  to  a 
communication  of  about  July  ist,  setting 
forth  my  fears  on  this  subject,  Mr.  Mac- 
kenzie wrote  me  on  July  5th  as  follows: 

Ottawa,  July  oth,  1878. 

IVIv  Dear  Sir, — I  noticed  the  accounts  of 
the  meetings  you  refer  to,  and  am  greatly 
pleased  with  your  success,  and  particularly 
pleased  at  the  result  of  the  Fergus  meeting. 
I  had  much  depended  upon  that  for  that 
section. 

I  was  in  Quebec  for  a  day  last  week,  and 
I  think  we  may  rest  contented  as  to  that 
Province.  Joly,  I  think,  will  without  doubt 
go  through  the  Session,  probably  with  an 
increase  to  his  strength  of  three  or  four. 
Such  were  the  indications  when  I  was  at 
Quebec,  and  1  have  heard  nothing  to  the 
•contrary  yet. 

As  to  the  Federal  elections,  neither 
party  in  that  Province  has  concluded  ar- 
rangements in  nearly  half  the  counties, 
and  it  would  be  difficult  to  say  which  are 
the  worst  behind.  It  is  evident,  I  think, 
that  we  will  gain  Gaspe,  Kamouraska, 
Chicoutimi,  Charlevoix,  Quebec  County, 
Quebec  West,  and  very  likely  Bellechasse 
and  Beauce.  I  do  not  think  we  will  gain 
anything  in  the  Montreal  district,  and  I 
•shall  be  well  satisfied  if  we  hold  our  own 
there.  We  may  lose  one  or  two  of  the 
city  seats,  but  I  hope  that  we  will  gain 
something  in  the  townships.  Stanstead 
and    Missisquoi    seem    likely    to    go    to   our 


side.     Cylmer    is    not    extra    strong    in    his 
county,  but  I  hope  he  will  win. 

The  accounts  from  the  Lower  Provinces 
are  on  the  whole  favourable.  Our  friends 
in  New  Brunswick  exi)ect  with  good  ar- 
rangements to  gain  one  or  two  seats,  and 
I  think  myself  this  extremely  likely,  but  I 
think  it  is  equally  likely  that  we  may  lose 
one  and  probably  two. 

If  the  present  indications  in  Nova  Scotia 
continue,  we  will  be  stronger  there  than  now, 
but  I  will  hear  more  definitely  in  a  few  days 
after  Jones  has  been  over  the  Province. 

The  Hastings  are  all  three  looking  well 
at  present.  Kingston  seems  absolutely  cer- 
tain. South  Leeds,  South  Lanark,  and 
North  Renfrew  also  promise  well,  and  I 
think  Murray  will  win  in  Pontiac;  Hagar, 
McNab,  Archibald,  and  our  new  candi- 
date Laflamme  in  Dundas,  are  all  confi- 
dent in  their  counties.  So  is  our  candidate 
in  Cornwall,  but  I  have  no  positive  infor- 
mation otherwise.  Cornwall  in  any  case 
would  be  very  close. 

The  temperance  people  in  Grenville,  I 
fear,  will  not  in  many  cases  vote  for  Wiser. 
Buell  will  carry  Brockville  if  the  new  rolls 
are  issued;  if  the  old  rolls  continue  in  force 
it  will  be  very  close.  North  Leeds  and 
Grenville  can  be  won  in  this  w-ay.  Jones 
offers  himself  now  on  our  side;  if  our  people 
will  vote  for  him  they  can  carry  the  County, 
and  it  is  quite  probable  that  they  may  carry 
it  with  a  straight  candidate.  There  is  a 
meeting  in  Russell  to-morrow  of  our  friends 
— that,  of  course,  is,  as  usual,  uncertain. 

Mr.  Buckingham  has  gone  West  for  a 
fortnight,  and  I  shall  not  leave  home  my- 
self for  two  or  three  weeks,  if  I  can  avoid 
it.     I  am  very  well  at  present. 

Faithfully  yours, 

.'\.  Mackenzie. 
John  Charlton,  E.sq.,  M.P., 
Lynedoch,  Ont. 

This  letter  reassured  me.  I  was  glad 
to  believe  that  probably  I  was  too  much 
of  a  pessimist,  and  that  Mr.  Mackenzie, 
who  w-as  at  the  seat  of  government,  and  in 
constant  communication  with  shrewd  and 
well-informed  men  in  all  parts  of  the 
Dominion,  must  be  able  to  form  an  opin- 
ion substantially  correct  as  to  the  political 
outlook.  The  result  of  the  election, 
unfortunately,  proved  how  wide  of  the 
mark  his  forecast  was. 

I  spared  the  time  from  my  own  work  to 
give  Henry  W.  Allen,  the  Liberal  candi- 
date, a  few  meetings  in  Sout-h  Norfolk. 
My  address  to  the  electors  was  issued 
August  26th,  and  an  effort  was  made  to 
put  a  copy  in  the  hands  of  every  voter  in 
the  riding.     It  was  a  document  of  some 


560 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


length,  and  pretty  freely  discussed  the 
leading  issues  of  the  contest,  treating  of 
the  financial  policy,  the  debt  increase, 
and  the  causes  for  it,  the  absurdity  of 
agricultural  protection,  the  hostile  spirit 
shown  towards  England  in  the  proposed 
protection  policy,  and  the  folly  of  sup- 
posing that  a  reciprocity  of  tariffs  would 
secure  reciprocity  of  trade  with  the  United 
States.  The  following  paragraph  of  the 
address,  tersely  setting  forth  as  it  does  the 
most  important  of  the  public  measures 
given  by  the  Mackenzie  Government  to  the 
country,  is  perhaps  worth  inserting  here : 

As  a  supporter  of  the  Mackenzie  Govern- 
ment in  the  past,  I  can  point  with  satisfac- 
tion to  its  public  measures.  It  has  given 
the  country  an  admirable  election  law 
which  makes  stringent  provisions  against 
corrupt  practices.  It  has  enacted  that 
controverted  elections  shall  be  tried  by  the 
courts;  that  elections  shall  be  upon  the 
same  day  throughout  Canada,  except  in 
the  case  of  fourteen  remote  Ridings;  that 
vote  shall  be  by  ballot,  and  that  every  ac- 
tual settler  in  the  Northwest  shall  be  en- 
titled to  160  acres  of  land.  It  has  secured 
the  independence  of  Parliament  by  enact- 
ing that  no  member  can  contract  with,  or 
be  in  the  pay  of  the  Crown.  It  has  con- 
stituted a  Supreme  Court  of  Canada;  has 
established  a  military  school  for  training 
efficient  officers,  and  has  used  its  utmost 
efforts  to  obtain  a  reciprocity  treaty  with 
the  United  States.  It  has  carried  into 
effect  when  in  power  the  reforms  which  the 
Reform  party  asked  for  when  in  Opposi- 
tion, and  has  introduced  many  salutary 
reforms  into  the  various  departments  of 
the  public  service. 

Mr.  Mackenzie  was  thunderstruck  by 
the  result  of  the  elections  and  he  felt  deeply 
hurt  by  the  popular  verdict  upon  his 
administration  of  public  affairs.  He  was 
conscious  of  rectitude  of  purpose  and 
thorough  honesty  in  the  discharge  of 
public  duties.  He  had  firmly  resisted  all 
attempts  to  make  raids  upon  the  treasury, 
and  had  made  enemies  among  his  own 
political  friends  by  his  firm  refusal  to 
listen  to  proposals  to  embark  in  schemes 
that  involved  the  expenditure  of  public 
money,  and  he  had  stood  firm  against  all 
attempts  to  use  Government  patronage 
and  influence  for  the  purpose  of  promoting 
private  aims.  He  had  stood  by  what  he 
conceived  to  be  a  consistent  revenue  tariff 
policy  in  the  face  of  the  strongest  tempta- 
tion to  advance  the  rate  of  taxation  because 


of  the  existence  of  deficits,  and  he  had  kepi 
the  expenditure  of  the  Government  within 
the  narrowest  possible  limits,  believing 
that  a  return  of  prosperity  would  give  to 
the  Government  ample  revenue  under  the 
tariff  as  it  then  existed  for  the  payment 
of  its  expenses. 

Without  going  into  the  consideration 
of  the  financial  records  of  Mr.  Mackenzie's 
Government,  I  think  the  facts  available 
in  the  Blue  Books  warrant  me  in  asserting 
that  his  management  of  the  fiscal  affairs 
of  Canada  was  in  the  highest  degree 
prudent  and  commendable.  The  in- 
crease of  the  public  debt,  due  to  deficits 
arising  from  the  pressure  of  hard  times^ 
and  consequent  diminution  of  revenue, 
and  to  the  carrying  out  in  a  prudent,  con- 
servative manner  of  the  obligations  in- 
curred by  his  predecessors  was  altogether 
unavoidable,  and  was  kept  by  him  within 
the  narrowest  possible  limits.  The  small 
actual  increase  in  the  expenditure  charge- 
able to  Consolidated  Fund  during  the 
entire  period  of  his  administration,  extend- 
ing from  November  8th,  1873,  to  October 
i6th,  1878,  in  the  face  of  a  largely  increas- 
ed expenditure  for  interest  rendered  tm- 
avoidable  by  increase  of  the  public  debt,, 
and  also  increased  expenditure  for  Mount- 
ed Police,  Indian  Management,  and 
Management  of  Public  Lands  rendered 
necessary  by  the  expansion  and  settle- 
ment of  the  Northwest,  shows  most  con- 
clusively that  rigid  economy  was  prac- 
tised in  all  the  departments  of  the  Govern- 
ment having  to  do  with  the  expenditure 
of  public  moneys.  In  this  respect  Mr. 
Mackenzie's  Government  was  above  crit- 
icism. His  was  the  only  thoroughly 
honest,  economical,  careful  administra- 
tion that  has  managed  the  affairs 
of  Canada  since  Confederation.  Statues 
have  been  erected  to  Sir  John  A.  Mac- 
donald  in  various  parts  of  the  Dominion, 
but  Mr.  Mackenzie's-claims  to  recognition, 
up  to  the  time  his  statue  was  erected  on 
Parliament  Hill  in  1901,  seem  to  have 
been  generally  overlooked.  Perhaps  the 
time  will  come  when  the  public  will  more 
fully  realise  that  no  public  man  has  up  to 
this  time  deserved  from  the  people  of  this 
Dominion  as  high  consideration  as  has 
that  truthful  and  noble  exponent  of  Re- 
form principles  and  honest  administration. 


Motors  that  Pass  in  the  Night 

Bv  C.  X.  and  A.  M.   WILLIAMSDS 


How  two  motor  cars  "act  up'^  purposely,  and  succeed  in  bringing 
two  estranged  lovers  to  a  happy  understanding 


CHARACTERS 

JENNY  Thorne,  a  Canadian  Girl. 

Laurence  Kent,  (/;/  Englishman. 

Two  Motor  Cars. 

Scene. — The  road  between  here  and  there. 
Time:  After  sunset  on  a  November 
evening.  The  first  motor,  a  dainty  little 
new  car,  scarlet  in  colour,  comes  blaz- 
ing through  the  dusk,  trudges  up  a  steep 
hill  with  some  bravado,  and  stops  at 
the  top  with  a  little  self-satisfied  grunt. 

I  EST  MOTOR:  Now,  I'm 
just  going  to  have  a  rest;  I 
don't  care  what  she  says. 
How  a  woman  does  take  it 
out  of  you!  I  wish  I  hadn't 
put  Stirling  up.  to  making  love  to  her. 
Then  she  wouldn't  have  given  him  the 
chuck  like  that,  at  a  moment's  notice. 
But  it  was  fun  at  the  time,  and  it's  such 
a  temptation,  when  it's  so  easy  to  pop 
almost  any  idea  you  like  into  the  head 
of  a  chauffeur,  if  your  electricity's  work- 
ing all  right.  PoufI  I  am  tired!  Serve 
her  right  if  I'd  stopped  half-way  up  the 
hill,  to  teach  her  not  to  try  and  scrape 
up  without  changing  speed;  and  I  would 
have  done  it,  too,  if  she  weren't  so  pretty. 
Jenny:  Good  gracious!  what  can  I 
have  done  that's  \\Tong?  The  engine's 
stopped.  Oh,  dear,  sometimes  Stirling 
has  a  lot  of  trouble  starting!  Not  often, 
of  course,  but  it  would  be  just  my  luck 
if — everything's  been  going  wrong  with 
me  lately.  Anyway,  I'd  have  had  to 
stop  presently  and  light  the  lamps,  so 
it  may  as  well  be  now.  People  call  out 
such  brutal  things  if  you  don't  light  up. 
Stupid  of  them!  I'm  sure  nobody  needs 
to  see  us.  We  make  noise  enough. 
(She  gets  down,  and  tries  to  light  the 
acetylene  lamp,  a  thing  she  has  never 
happened   to   do    before,    though    she   has 

561 


seen  her  chaufjeur  do  it  fifty  times  since  she 
took  to  motoring  to  heal  a  wounded  heart.) 
^^'ho  would  have  dreamed  it  could  be  so 
difficult?  Well,  I  just  can't  do  it,  that's 
all.  People  can  say  what  they  like — 
or  they  can  kill  me  if  they  like — I  don't 
much  care.  Only  I'm  so  hungry.  I 
hardly  feel  equal  to  being  killed  very 
violently.  I  could  have  borne  being 
crushed  or  smeared  better  if  I'd  had  my 
tea.  {She  tries  to  start  the  car,  and  jails. 
Tries  again,  hurts  her  hand  and  wrings 
it.)  I  almost  wish  I'd  given  Stirling 
twenty-four  hours'  notice  instead  of  five 
minutes.  But  a  chauffeur  who  makes 
love  to  you,  and  actually  e.xpects  you  to 
be  pleased!  I  suppose  he  thinks  he's 
good  looking.  I  never  noticed  it,  if  he 
is;  and  I  despise  the  sort  of  man  who's 
always  telling  you  that  he's  a  gentleman, 
down  in  the  world  through  no  fault  of 
his  own.  If  he  really  were  one,  you'd 
know  it  soon  enough  without  his  telling 
you.  I  did  right,  but — but — perhaps  I 
was  a  little  precipitate.  And  it  is  get- 
ting very  dark.  I  do  feel  so  miserable — 
and  lonely.  What  would  Larry  say  if 
he  could  see  me  now?  Oh,  I  knoic  what 
he  would  say:  That  I'm  e.xactly  the 
kind  of  creature  he  disapproves  of — the 
kind  that  ought  to  have  things  happen 
to  her.  I — I  would  never  have  believed 
he  could  say  such  things  of  me,  if  Marian 
McNaughten  hadn't  told  me — sweet  Mar- 
ian, who  hates  to  hurt  people's  feelings, 
and  is  such  a  saint.  Larry  would  think 
—but  luckily  I  don't  care  what  he  thinks 
of  me.  Not  that  he's  likely  to  think 
about  me  at  all.  I'm  sure  I  never  do 
about  him. 

First  Motor:  Silly  little  thing  to  be- 
lieve that  hypocritical  Miss  McNaughten. 
Whv,  even  the  most  absent-minded  auto- 
mobile can  see  with  half  a  valve  that  the 
woman's  in  love  with  her  c(uisin,  Laur- 


56^2 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


ence  Kent,  and  is  determined  to  marry 
him.  It  was  sitting  in  my  tonneau  that 
she  told  Jenny  the  things  that  induced 
the  girl  to  break  off  her  engagement.  It 
made  me  tired,  and  I've  been  tired  ever 
since.  I  shall  go  on  being  tired,  too, 
till  I  get  back  home  again.  And  I  don't 
approve  of  girls  as  drivers,  no  matter 
how  pretty  and  bright  they  may  be. 
They're  too  restless.  I  wish  she'd  have 
an  understanding  with  her  "Larry,"  for 
he  isn't  the  sort  of  man  to  let  his  fia7icee 
drive. 

Jenny  (sfill  trying  to  start  the  car): 
You  little  brute — you  might  go  I 

First  Motor:  I  simply  won't  till  I'm 
good  and  ready.  You've  made  me 
feel  verv  queer  in  my  insides  with  your 
bad  driving.  Goodness,  how  much  easier 
it  seems  to  be  for  a  girl  to  start  crying 
than  to  start  even  a  little,  simple,  in- 
genuous, twelve-horse-power  pet  like  me! 

Jenny  {not  hearing  a  word  First  Motor 
says):  Oh,  horror,  here  comes  a  car — 
a  huge  car — a  car  as  big  as  a  lighthouse  I 
And    my    car    is    right    in    its    way.      If 

it  doesn't  see  us,  we  shall  be .     Oh, 

please,  please,  do  be  careful  I  I  wish  I 
were  a  police' trap  I 

First  Motor:  I'm  en  pause  if  it  isn't 
Tarry  Kent's  forty-horse  car.  I  haven't 
seen  him  since  we  parted,  just  be- 
fore the  row,  but  I'd  know  him  any- 
where a  mile  off.  He's  far  too  fine  a 
gentleman  to  run  into  a  lady  like  me, 
just  because  I  don't  happen  to  be  wear- 
ing my  lights. 

Second  Motor:  By  my  maker — it's 
you  I  {His  master  stops  him  suddenly, 
and  the  car  takes  credit  to  himself  for  not 
skidding.) 

Laurence  Kent  {jumping  out  of  his  big 
blue  car,  and  taking  off  his  cap):  Is  it  pos- 
sible— you!     And  alone!     Are  you  hurt? 

Jenny:  Not  yet.  I  mean — I  thought 
— but  it  doesn't  matter.  Good  evening, 
Mr.  Kent. 

Laurence:  I  thought  you  were  in  France. 

Jenny:  So  I  should  be,  if  I  had  only 
myself  to  please.  But,  as  you  possibly 
know,  I  have  someone  else  to  consult 
now.  Once  you  disapproved  of  my 
travelling  about  with  only  a  maid,  even 
though  she  was  my  nurse  when  I  was 
small,  and  is  old  enough  to  be  mv  mother. 


Now  there's  no  longer  anything  '"  incor- 
rect" in  my  conduct,  and  my  being 
alone  this  evening  is  quite  an  accident. 

Laurence:  I  never  said — 

Jenny:  Oh,  never  mind!  Please  let 
us  drop  the  subject.  It's  of  no  im- 
portance. 

Laurence:  As  you  will.  But  at  least 
I  may  inquire  into  the  nature  of  the 
accident?     Something  has  happened — 

Jenny:  Not  at  all.  I — I'm  just  stop- 
ping to  rest  on  ray  way  back.  The  coun- 
try is  very  nice  at  this  time  of  year. 

Laurence  {bitterly):  It's  popular  with 
honeymoon  couples. 

Jenny  {looking  rather  blank):  Natur- 
ally. 

Second  Motor  to  First  Motor:  /.v  she 
married  ? 

First  Motor:  Who  ? 

Second  Motor:  Why,  your  pretty  Cana- 
dian girl,  of  course. 

First  Motor:  Don't  call  her  mine.  I'm 
tired  of  her.  Being  a  feminine  thing 
myself,  I  can't  stand  a  woman's  whims, 
always  interfering  with  mine.  I  much 
prefer  a  man  to  drive  me,  and  am  doing 
all  I  can  lately  to  disgust  her  with  me. 
But  as  for  her  being  married,  that's 
Tommy  Rot,  you  know,  as  you  Eng- 
lish say.  She  hasn't  looked  at  anyone 
since  she  threw  over  your  master  in  a 
silly  letter;  and  though,  just  to  amuse 
myself,  I  magnetised  Stirling,  her  chauf- 
feur— a  very  good-looking  boy  and  al- 
most a  gentleman — to  make  love  to  her, 
she  wouldn't  listen.  When  he  said 
something  about  kissing  her  ear,  she 
told  him  to  get  off  the  car  that  minute, 
and  threw  a  month's  wages  in  the  mud. 
Then  she  drove  me  away,  at  a  fearful 
pace,  and  left  him  to  scoop  the  money 
up.     I  haven't  got  over  that  run  yet. 

Second  Motor:  You  poor  little  thing! 
You  do  have  your  troubles,  but  they 
can't  be  worse  than  mine.  My  master 
drives  me  like  a  demon  since  his  cousin, 
Miss  McNaughten,  told  him  that  Miss 
Thome's  reason  for  throwing  him  over 
without  an  explanation  was  because  she 
was  in  love  with  her  handsome  chauffeur, 
and  secretly  engaged  to  him.  Lately, 
when  poor  old  Larry  thought  of  going 
on  a  trip  again  with  me  for  a  change, 
Marian  warned  him  if  he  did  he  might 


MOTORS   THAT   PASS   IN   THE    NIGHT 


563 


meet  a  certain  honeymooning  couple, 
as  she'd  heard  from  Miss  Thorne  that 
the  wedding  would  probably  take  place 
the  first  of  December. 

First  Motor:  Not  a  word  of  truth  in 
■it!  Marian  McNaughten's  a  jealous, 
mischief-making  cat,  as  /  knew  from 
the  minute  she  stuck  one  of  my  tyres 
with  a  hatpin,  to  prevent  Jenny  taking 
her  fiancee  a  spin  before  he  was  called 
tack  on  business.  You  know  that  day? 
They  hadn't  been  engaged  a  week.  It 
was  only  a  month  after  our  first  meeting. 

Second  Motor:  Great  Mors!  Can  I 
believe  you?  I  always  thought  Marian 
such  a  sweet  girl,  and  old  Larry  consid- 
•ers  her  a  saint. 

First  Motor:  He'll  find  out  his  mistake 
when  she's  his  wife. 

Second  Motor:  She  never  will  be.  You 
•don't  know  Larry.  He  was  horribly  cut 
up  when  your  Jenny  jilted  him. 

First  Motor:  She  only  wrote  that  let- 
ter to  follow  him  to  London,  because 
Marian  told  her  Larry  was  ashamed  of 
her  odd  Canadian  ways,  and  didn't  see 
how  he  should  break  it  to  his  people 
that  he  was  going  to  marry  a  g!rl  who 
spent  her  time  trotting  about  the  Con- 
tinent with  no  chaperone  except  a  maid. 
Marian  pretended  to  hate  saying  the 
things,  but,  as  woman  to  woman,  she 
felt  Jenny  ought  to  know  how  Larry 
was  feeling  now  the  first  glamour  had 
worn  off. 

Second  Motor:  Well,  I  never! 

First  Mo: or:  Oh,  I  have,  often.  I 
know  women. 

Second  Motor:  Can't  we  bring  them 
together  again? 

First  Motor:  Big  silly!  Am  I  not  do- 
ing my  best? 

Second  Motor:  Clever  creature!  Did 
you  stop  on  purpose  when  you  saw  us? 

First  Motor:  {tinder  her  petrol):  What 
•do  yoii  think? 

Second  Motor:  Little  flirt! 

Laurence:  And  may  I  ask  where  is 
your — er — your — 

Jenny:  Stirling?  I — er — dropped  him 
just  to  have  a  go  myself.  I  don't  mind 
driving  alone  in  the  least.  He's  given 
me  so  many  lessons. 

Laurence:  I  dare  say. 

Jenny:  Please  don't  let  me  keep  you. 


Laurence:  I  can't  go  on  and  leave 
you  like  this. 

Jenny:  I'm  quite  safe.  There's  the 
advantage  of  Canadian  independence. 
No  man  is  a  necessity. 

Laurence:  Not  even  your — 

Jenny:  Not  even — anyone.    Good-night. 

Laurence:  Your  lamps  ought  to  be  lit. 

Jenny:  I — er — was  just  going  to — 

Laurence:  Allow  me — 

Jenny  {miserably):  No — I — I  canH  take 
help  from  you,  Mr.  Kent,  after — after 
everything.     I  mustn't. 

Laurence  {angrily):  He  would  disap- 
prove* if  he  knew,  I  suppose? 

Jenny:  I  don't  know  what  you  mean, 
but  I'm  sure  it's  of  no  importance.  I 
believe  I  have  said  good-night? 

Laurence:  If  you  have,  it  has  slipped 
my  mind.  It  may  be  "stodgy"  and 
"English"  of  me,  but  I  can't  allow  a 
lady  whom  I — a  lady  of  my  acquaint- 
ance to  motor  alone  along  a  country 
road  at  night. 

Jenny:  It  isn't  night. 

Laurence:  It's  pitch  dark,  and  I  shall 
wait  quietly  till  you've  lighted  your 
lamps — since  you  won't  let  me  do  it — 
and  started  your  car. 

Jenny  {confused):  Oh!  you're  going 
to  wait  for — tkat? 

Ijiurence:  Yes;  it  would  be  the  same 
if  we  were  strangers. 

Jenny:  It  can't  be  the  same.  I  wish 
it  could. 

Laurence:  I,  certainly,  should  be  hap- 
pier if  we  always  had  been.  But  this 
has  nothing  to  do  with  what  has  been. 
It  will  be  a  mere  case  of — motors  that 
pass  in  the  night. 

Jenny:  The  sooner  they  pass  the  bet- 
ter, then. 

Laurence:  Very  well.  You've  only 
to  start. 

Jenny  {lookifig  desperately  at  her  motor): 
Yes,  I've  only  to  start.  Ah,  Mr.  Kent, 
no  doubt  you  mean  well;  but  good  in- 
tentions are  paving  stones — you  know 
where — and  my  tyres  don't  love  pave. 
I  ask  you,  as  a  gentleman,  to  leave  me. 
I  have  my  own  reasons. 

Ijiiirence  {flushed  and  hot):  At  least, 
I  had  no  intention  of  persecuting  you. 
I  meant  merely  to  follow,  at  a  distance, 
and   see    that   you   were    safe.     {Aside). 


564 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


Can  she  be  expecting  someone — not  that 
bounder  of  a  husband  ?  Marian  used 
to  warn  me  that  all  Canadian  girls  are 
flirts.  Well,  it's  not  my  affair — any 
longer.  (Aloud).  But  since  /  may  not 
do  that — good-night. 

Second  Motor:  There  we  go!  It's  all 
up. 

First  Motor:  Don't  you  believe  it.  I'll 
bet  I  know  men  better  than  you  do,  as 
well  as  women. 

(Laurence  starts  his  car  again,  and 
drives  off.  He  hears  the  grunting  and  bel- 
lowing of  a  herd  of  cattle  being  driven 
toward  some  market  village,  and,  remem- 
bering Jennys  terror  of  cattle,  slows  down 
and  turns  round  once  more;  then  stops  to 
await  developments).  Can  she  have  got 
off?  No;  her  motor's  a  noisy  little  brute. 
I  should  have  heard  her  voice  if  she'd 
started.  I  believe  she  must  be  waiting 
for  someone.  She  doesn't  deserve  that 
I  should  care  what  happens — but  I  do 
care — because  I'm  a  fool.  I'll  stop  till 
the  cattle  have  got  by.  If  she  shuuld 
want  me — 

(Jenny's  motor  has  just  decided  to  start, 
but  at  sight  and  sound  of  these  terrible 
creatures  Jenny^s  hand  drops  from  the 
starting-handle). 

Jenny:  Oh,  horror!  horror!  Why  did 
I  tell  him  to  go  ?     Larry,  Larry,  save  me ! 

Laurence  (answering  from  a  distance): 
Hullo! 

(He  jumps  into  a  dry  ditch,  and  runs 
along  it,  thus  outstripping  the  cattle. 
He  lifts  Jenny  into  her  car).  You  ought 
to  have  a  car  you  can  start  from  the  seat! 

Jenny  (sobbing):  Oh,  it  was  terrible 
to  be  left  alone  with  them. 

Laurence:  Your — husband  oughtn't  to 
have  left  you. 

Jenny:  My  husband!  Are  yt)U  dream- 
ing? 

iMurence:  Weren't  you  with  him?  I 
understood  you  to  say  you'd  dropped 
him — 

Jenny:  I  haven't  picked  him  up  yet. 

Laurence:  What  do  you  mean? 

Jenny:  What  do  you  mean?  (She  dries 
her  eyes). 

Laurence:  Why,  that  you — surely  you 
— Marian  said  it  was  to  be  the  first  of 
the  month. 


Jenny:  What? 
Laurence:  Your — wedding. 
Jenny:  Why,  I  haven't  even  been  en- 
gaged— since — 

Laurence:  Not  to — your  chauffeur? 
Jenny:  No.     He  was  engaged  to  me. 
To   work   for   me — nothing  else.     I   dis- 
charged   him    to-day    because    he — said 
things  about  love — the  wretch! 

Laurence:  But — you  said  "we"  were 
there. 

Jenny:  A  sweet  old  Canadian  aunt 
and  I.  She  joined  me  the  other  day,  and 
wanted  to  see  the  country,  though,  of 
course,  I  would  rather  have  stayed  away 
from  this  place,  after  what  Marian 
said  you  said. 

Laurence:  Marian!  I  never  said  any- 
thing to  her  about  you  which  you  could 
have  disliked. 

Jenny:  Did  you  think  I  would  like  to 
hear  that  you  thought  me  forward  and 
fast,  and  that  you  were  ashamed  your 
people  should  know — 

Laurence:  I  never  said  anything  of 
the  kind.  Was  that  why  you  wrote  to 
tell  me  you  never  wanted  to  hear  from 
me  and  see  me  again — that  it  had  all 
been  a  mistake? 

Jenny:  Wasn't  it  enough  to  make  me 
do  it?  ' 

Laurence:  If  you  believed — but  Marian 
told    me   that   you    threw    me    over   be- 
cause you'd  fallen  in  love  with  a  gentle- 
man chauffeur  whom  you'd  engaged — 
Jenny:  Oh.  Larry! 
Laurence:  Darling! 

First  Motor:  How  good  and  clever  of 
me  to  arrange  all  this!  Lawrence's  motor 
will  be  pleased  when  he  knows.  I  suppose 
he  and  I  will  be  always  together  now. 
Well,  I  don't  know  that  I  could  have 
done  better  for  myself.  He's  forty  horse- 
power— and  my  favourite  colour. 

Laurence:  Nothing  shall  ever  y)art  us 
aga  n. 

Jenny:  Nothing. 

Laurence:  I'll  get  a  special  license. 
Jenny:  Yes,  do.     It  would  be  so  nice 
to  surprise  Marian. 

(Laurence  takes  her  in  his  arms,  and 
First  Motor  congratulates  herself  that 
her  lights  are  not-  lit,  as  she  hates  being 
made  conspicuous.) 


The  Precedence  of  Loyalty 


Bv  F.   BLAKE  CROFTON 


To  show  that  while  love  of  country  is  a  commendable  thing,  there 
is  a   broader  loyalty  that  should  have  precedence 


X  these  days  when  "  Canada 
for  the  Canadians"  is  so 
popular  a  cry  and  so  dom- 
inant a  sentiment,  it  may 
be  wholesome  to  reflect  that 
we  still  owe  some  obligations  to  non- 
Canadian  portions  of  the  globe. 

If  we  believe  in  a  Supreme  Being,  our 
first  loyalty  is  evidently  due  to  Him. 
The  wishes  and  commands  of  our  Cre- 
ator, so  far  as  we  know  them  or  fancy 
that  we  know  them,  should  outweigh 
those  of  his  creatures.  The  old  ques- 
tion, whether  a  person  believing  in  an 
immoral  God  should  obey  the  supposed 
mandates  of  virtue  or  of  omnipotence, 
is  outside  the  scope  of  our  inquiry,  which 
will  not  extend  itself  to  the  loyalty  due 
to  principles  or  virtues. 

While  our  kindly  feelings  should  em- 
brace all  creatures,  and  while  man  plus 
the  lower  animals  should  weigh  more 
with  us  than  man  alone,  yet  to  speak  of 
our  loyalty  to  beasts,  birds  and  fishes 
would  be  stretching  the  term.  For  the 
idea  of  loyalty  includes  a  sense  of  some- 
thing owed;  and,  while  we  plainly  owe 
everything  to  God  and  much  to  man- 
kind and  our  country  and  our  parents, 
what  we  may  owe  to  other  creatures, 
except  a  few  domestic  animals,  is  not  so 
apparent.  It  may  therefore  be  said 
that,  next  to  God,  mankind  at  large  has 
the  strongest  claim  upon  our  loyalty. 

The  whole  is  greater  than  any  of  its 
parts;  the  welfare  of  the  world  should 
be  paramount  to  the  welfare  of  the 
dearest  country  or  confederation  in  it. 
The  grandest  exemplars  of  altruism 
embraced  all  mankind  in  their  compre- 
hensive sympathies.  With  the  Christ 
and  with  the  Buddha,  with  Socrates  and 
Wilberforce,  altruism  was  unbounded 
by  sea  or  mountain;  it  did  not  discrim- 

56.") 


inate  against  Jew  or  Gentile,  against 
Greek  or  barbarian;  it  embraced  human 
beings  of  every  race  and  colour.  All 
men  are  the  brethren  of  the  great  phil- 
anthropists. To  relieve  misery  in  the 
mass  is  more  beneficent,  though  not 
necessarily  more  benevolent,  than  to 
relieve  single  sufi'erers.  To  improve  the 
condition  of  the  world  is  a  higher  aim 
than  to  improve  the  condition  of  a  sin- 
gle country,  just  as  it  is  a  greater  achieve- 
ment to  increase  the  prosperity  of  a 
country  than  to  secure  the  welfare  of 
a  family. 

Our  country,  in  the  broadest  sense  of 
term,  deserves  the  third  place  in  our 
altruistic  regards.  It  is,  as  Cicero,  said, 
the  common  parent  of  us  all.  It  so 
vastly  outnumbers  our  family  and  friends 
that  it  outweighs  their  claims  to  our  loyal 
consideration,  though  these  are  greater 
than  the  claims  of  any  equal  number  of 
our  countrymen.  Besides,  the  prosper- 
ity of  our  country  must  increase  the  pros- 
perity of  many  of  our  friends  and  rela- 
tives, while  the  insecurity  of  our  coun- 
try involves  the  insecurity  of  our  family 
and  of  everything  it  owns.  Patriotism 
has  signally  marked  the  rise  of  great 
nations.  Witness  modern  Japan  and 
ancient  Greece  and  Rome.  In  a  na- 
tion's decline  patriotism  is  more  often  a 
profession  than  a  creed. 

A  man  certainly  owes  a  more  distinct 
and  definite  allegiance  to  the  country  of 
which  he  is  a  citizen  by  birth  or  adop- 
tion than  he  owes  to  the  land  of  his 
fathers.  But,  while  the  claims  of  the 
former  upon  his  loyalty  are  the  weightier 
in  themselves,  how  far  they  practically 
prevail  with  him  must  depend  on  cir- 
( umstances,  such  as  his  nationality,  the 
length  of  time  since  he  or  his  fathers 
emisjated,    the   moral   standards   of   the 


566 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


two  countries,  their  past  records  and 
their  present  characteristics  and  cus- 
toms. In  any  case  some  loyal  regard 
remains  due  to  our  ancestral  country, 
unless  it  has  shamefully  misused  us. 
The  etymological  meaning  of  "patriot- 
ism" is  a  fealty  or  devotion  to  the  land 
oj  our  fathers. 

When  the  country  of  one's  birth  or 
adoption  is,  like  Canada,  a  portion  of 
an  empire  or  confederation,  the  narrower 
patriotism  is  apt  to  overpower  or  even 
to  efface  the  broader.  And  this  would 
be  entirely  justifiable  if  the  land  of  our 
birth  or  adoption  were  cruelly  taxed  or 
wilfully  injured  by  the  empire  or  if  it 
asked  for  representation  and  partnership 
and  were  disdainfully  refused.  The 
claims  of  imperial  loyalty  would  be  ob- 
literated by  injustice,  and  it  would  then 
become  our  duty  as  freemen  to  aspire 
and  strive  for  separation.  Should  the 
influence  of  our  own  Empire  become 
maleficent,  should  it  embark  on  a  career 
of  wanton  aggression,  should  it  treat  its 
weak  dependencies  as  Belgium  tieats 
the  Congo  State,  then,  even  if  Canadian 
liberties  were  still  intact,  Canada  would 
rightly  antagonise  her  misguided  breth- 
ren of  the  United  Kingdom.  In  this 
contingency  the  broad  patriotism  form- 
erly felt  for  our  Empire  would  naturally 
and  properly  be  eclipsed  by  the  still 
broader  loyalty  due  to  mankind.  But 
while  we  own  allegiance  to  the  Crown 
and  see  no  sufficient  cause  to  detach  our- 
selves from  the  British  Empire,  loyalty 
to  it  should  have  the  precedence  over 
loyalty  to  the  Dominion.  The  whole 
is  more  important  than  its  best  loved 
part.  Assume  that  loyalty,  like  char- 
ity, begins  at  home,  and  that  we  prop- 
erly prefer  the  welfare  of  our  family  to 
that  of  any  other  family,  the  welfare  of 
our  province  to  that  of  any  other  prov- 
ince, the  welfare  of  our  Dominion  to 
that  of  any  other  portion  of  the  Empire 
on  the  globe.  Yet  the  truth  of  this  as- 
sumption would  not  justify  us  in  pur- 
chasing the  prosperity  of  near  thousands 
by  the  sufferings  of  far  millions  or  in 
providing  luxury  for  a  favoured  few  at 
the  cost  of  starvation  for  a  greater  or 
even  an  equal  number  of  outsiders.  If 
a  measure  promised  some  advantage  to 


Canada  but  an  immensely  greater  amount 
of  harm  to  the  Empire  or  the  world,  I 
hold  that  a  broad  conception  of  loyalty^ 
as  well  as  morals  and  Christianity, 
should  lead  a  fair-minded  Canadian  to 
work  and  vote  against  it.  Moreover 
Canada  is  affected  by  any  impairment 
of  the  Empire's  prestige  or  prosperity,^ 
and  the  security  of  every  part  depends 
upon  the  security  of  the  whole. 

In  judging  the  sometimes  divergent 
claims  of  the  broader  and  narrower  pat- 
riotism, it  mg.y  be  well  to  recall  the  example 
of  the  great  Nova  Scotian  patriot,  Joseph 
Howe.  While  the  provinces  were  de- 
nied responsible  government,  he  fought 
fearlessly  and  struck  hard  blows  for 
their  rights.  He  antagonised  two  Gov- 
ernors and  was  for  a  time  boycotted  at 
Government  House.  He  was  misrep- 
resented in  despatches  as  a  mischievous 
and  offensive  agitator.  Yet  in  the  heat 
of  the  strife  he  never  lost  his  good-will 
to  the  mother  country  or  his  desire  for 
the  strengthening  of  the  Empire.  With 
this  successful  champion  of  provincial 
autonomy  the  welfare  of  the  Empire  was 
paramount.  "The  question  of  ques- 
tions for  us  all,"  he  declared,  "far  tran- 
scending in  importance  any  other  within 
range  of  domestic  or  foreign  politics  is 

how   the   whole   Empire   can   be   so 

organised  and  strengthened  as  to  com- 
mand peace  or  be  impregnable  in  war." 
Yet  he  was  always  ready  to  resume  the 
defence  of  his  native  land,  if  it  should 
be  unfairly  treated.  "Sir,"  he  said,  in 
his  memorable  speech  on  the  organisa- 
tion of  the  Empire,  "I  would  not  cling 
to  England  one  single  hour  after  I  was 
convinced  that  the  friendship  of  (British) 
North  America  was  undervalued,  and 
that  the  status  to  which  we  may  reason- 
ably aspire  had  been  refused." 

Loyalty  in  its  narrowest  phases — de- 
votion to  the  clan  or  flock  or  family — 
is  common  to  most  animals.  This  nar- 
row altruism  is  usually  the  most  intense, 
and  its  phenomena — a  friend  personat- 
ing his  friend  upon  the  scaffold,  a  hus- 
band pleading  guilty  to  a  wife's  crime, 
a  she-bear  dying  for  her  young — are 
often  admirable  and  pathetic.  But  to 
focus  one's  affection  is  a  natural  instinct 
and  needs  no  cultivation.     It  is  a  ques- 


THE    PREC'EDKXC'E    ()E    EOVAI/rV 


o67 


tion   whether   it   requires   stimulation   as 
often  as  restraint. 

There  is  another  loyalty  which  is  too 
commonly  given  high  precedence  and 
deserves  none.  I  mean  the  so-called 
loyalty  to  party.  Association  with  a 
party  should  be  viewed  as  an  alliance 
to  further  certain  policies  or  principles. 
When  we  alter  our  opinions  or  our  party 
alters  its  opinions,  we  are  at  liberty  to 
terminate  the  alliance,  and  no  allegiance 
remains  due  to  our  former  allies.  A 
change  of  party  argues  that  a  man  is 
open  to  conviction,  and  that  he  places 
principle  and  patriotism  above  political 
ties.  The  presumption  is  that  his  mo- 
tives are  praiseworthy,  unless  this  pre- 
sumption be  rebutted  by  evidence  that 
the  turncoat  has  been  actuated  by  more 
unworthy  considerations.  Of  the  man 
whose  fealty  to  his  party  effaces  his 
fealty  to  his  country  or  his  empire,  it 
may  be  said: 

"  His  honour  rooted  in  dishonour  stood, 
And  faith  unfaithful  made  him  falsely  true." 

A  virtue  may  be  pushed  so  far  as  to 
clash  with  other  virtues,  and  loyalty 
even  to  one's  country  or  empire  may 
become  too  fervent.  The  growing  loy- 
alty to  Canada  promises  well.  But  it 
will  not  prove  an  unmi.xed  blessing  if  it 
narrows  our  thoughts  and  sympathies 
or  becomes  so  exclusive  as  to  supersede 
all  other  loyalties;  if  it  does  not  prompt 
us  to  lijork  for  the  prosperity  of  the  coun- 
try and  to  stamp  out  dishonesty  and 
corruption;  if  it  does  not  lead  us  to  legis- 
late wisely  and  to  enforce  the  laws  im^- 
partially;  if  it  confines  itself  to  hymning 
the  praises  and  denying  the  faults  of 
the  Dominion  or  to  belittling  the  ser- 
vices and  exaggerating  the  wrongs  done 
us  by  the  mother  country,  as  is  the  fash- 
ion with  some  politicians  and  journalists. 

Blind  loyalty  to  any  realm,  however 
vast,  is  to  be  deprecated,  if  the  predom- 
inance of  that  realm  would  menace  free- 
dom and  civilisation.  When  patriotism 
clashes  with  philanthropy,  philanthropy 
should  prevail.  Even  patriotism  to  the 
most  beneficient  empire  in  the  history 
of  the  world  calls  for  restraint  when  it 
luxuriates  into  jingoism  and  becomes  a 


menace  to  peace.  A  time  might  come 
when  the  patricians  and  parvenus  of 
Great  Britain  had  generally  forgotten 
the  obligations  of  wealth  and  position, 
as  so  many  of  them  have  already  done; 
when  self-indulgence  and  snobbery  and 
vulgar  ostentation  were  still  more  prev- 
alent than  they  are;  when,  as  in  the 
decline  of  the  Spanish  and  Roman  Em- 
pires, sensualism  had  begotten  cruelty, 
and  humanity  had  ceased  to  be  a  factor 
of  the  imperial  policy;  when  the  infusion 
of  new  blood  (by  colonial  representation) 
and  all  imaginable  correctives  had  failed 
to  arrest  the  moral  decay,  and  when  that 
decay  was  spreading  from  the  centre 
to  the  extremities  of  the  Empire.  In 
such  a  case  our  imperial  loyalty  would 
be  obliterated  by  our  duty  to  the  human 
race  and  ourselves,  and,  it  being  imprac- 
ticable to  place  Britain  in  quarantine, 
we  should  at  least  separate  ourselves 
-om  it. 

It  is  not  to  widen  the  bounds  or  en- 
hance the  grandeur  of  our  Empire  that 
more  practical  loyalty  to  it  should  be 
encouraged,  but  because  its  consolida- 
tion would  secure  from  aggression  al- 
most a  quarter  of  the  human  race,  and 
its  downfall  would  be  a  calamity  to  the 
other  three-quarters.  O'  human  agen- 
cies the  British  Empire  has  achieved 
most  for  the  happiness  of  mankind.  It 
began  and  still  continues  the  war  upon 
slavery.  It  has  been  the  most  benign 
and  successful  coloniser  recorded  in  his- 
tory. It  spreads  the  spirit  of  liberty  and 
toleration.  The  Mother  of  Nations  is 
also  the  mother  of  parliaments,  and  re- 
mains the  great  exemplar  of  constitu- 
tional government.  The  Three  King- 
doms and,  with  a  few  ilhberal  exceptions, 
the  rest  of  the  Empire,  have  hitherto  kept 
their  gates  open  to  the  poor  and  oppressed 
of  all  nations. 

The  continuance  of  Britain's  rule  in 
India  and  her  African  territories  prom- 
ises to  gift  the  world  with  a  universal 
language.  It  is  true  that  the  growing 
numbers  and  importance  of  the  English- 
speaking  peoples  might  eventually  cause 
some  simplified  form  of  our  language  to 
be  accepted  as  a  general  medium  of  com- 
munication.    But  this  boon  to  mankind 


568 


THE   CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


would  be  retarded  if  Britain  were  driven 
from  her  Asiatic  and  x\frican  possessions. 
At  present  English  is  generally  taught 
in  the  schools  of  India,  the  proceedings 
and  speeches  in  the  Indian  National 
Congress  are  in  English,  and  a  number 
of  periodicals  are  published  in,  English 
and  circulated  among  natives  speaking 
many  dialects.  English  is  already  the 
medium  of  communication  between 
educated  natives  of  different  districts, 
and  promises  soon  to  be  the  medium  be- 
tween uneducated  natives  also.  Were 
the  British  expelled,  Hindustani  would 
doubtless  become  the  language  univer- 
sally taught  in  the  schools  as  well  as  the 
official  language  of  the  Indian  Parlia- 
ment, if  there  were  one.  Newspapers 
intended  to  circulate  over  the  whole 
peninsula  would  likewise  be  printed  in 
Hindustani;  and  the  English  language 
and  peace  would  fade  from  among  the 
three  hundred  million  inhabitants  of 
Hindustan. 

It  is  for  such  reasons  that  it  is  desir- 
able that  imperial  patriotism  should  be 
stimulated,  and  that  we  Canadians  should 
try  not  to  regard  Canada  so  exclusively 
as  a  separate  unit,  but  as  part  of  a  ma- 
jestic whole.  Loyalty  to  our  Empire  is 
not,  as  in  the  case  of  minor  nations,  a 
generous  sentiment  only;  it  is  a  desider- 
atum for  mankind.  And  if  imperial 
patriotism  be  desirable,  it  should  be 
displayed,  not  merely  in  waving  flags 
and  declaiming  poems  and  singing  "  God 
Save  the  King,"  but  also  in  resisting 
movements  threatening  to  weaken  the  Em- 
pire (such  as  the  exclusion  of  our  Hindu 
fellow-subjects  and  our  Japanese  allies), 
and  in  supporting  measures  tending  to 
knit  the  scattered  realm-;  that  own  alleg- 
iance to  the  Crown. 


As  loudly  as  loyalty  calls  for  the  con- 
solidation of  the  Empire — to  wander 
slightly  from  my  subject — still  louder  is 
the  call  of  self-respect.  Canada,  al- 
ready more  populous  than  England  and 
Wales  were  in  the  great  reign  of  Eliza- 
beth, is  wholly  unrepresented  in  the  Im- 
perial Parliament,  and  contributes  in- 
adequately to  the  imperial  expenses. 
One  can  understand  separatists,  but  it 
is  hard  to  understand  Canadians  who, 
with  the  resources  and  prosperity  that 
we  brag  of,  are  content  with  our  state 
of  unreciprocating  dependency.  I  can- 
not put  the  case  any  better  now  than  I 
tried  to  put  it  some  years  ago  in  the 
London  Morning  Post: 

"I  wish  my  country  to  be  a  coordinate 
and  not  a  subordinate  member  of  our 
empire.  I  wish  us,  lest  we  lose  our 
membership,  to  pay  our  annual  dues. 
For  the  small  yearly  price  of  a  dollar  or 
two  each,  I  wish  us  to  secure  our  self- 
respect  as  well  as  our  freedom  and  exist- 
ence as  a  nation.  I  would  like  to  see 
Canadians  displaying  their  eloquence 
in  an  imperial  assembly.  I  would  like 
to  see  the  minds  of  our  people  expand 
by  voting  on  imperial  and  cosmopolitan 
issues.  I  would  like  us  to  be  free  to  de- 
nounce blunders  or  abuses  in  the  Army, 
Navy  or  Foreign  Office  without  any 
risk  of  being  invited  by  some  flippant 
journalist  to  "put  up  or  shut  up."  I 
want  us  to  be  able  to  board  a  British 
man-of-war  with  the  feeling  of  the  Scots- 
man who  announced  himself  as  'yin  o' 
the  owners.'  I  want  to  stop  the  possi- 
bility of  any  British  'bounder'  looking 
down  on  us  as  dependents  or  hangers- 
on.  I  want  to  avert  the  partial  atrophy 
that  awaits  a  nation  which  declines  to 
e.xercise  all  the  functions  of  nationhood." 


THE   BETRAYAL 

Posed  by  Members  of  the  Passion  Play  Company  of  Oberamniergau,  Bavaria 


5—569 


ST.   PETER 

Posed  by  a  Member  of  the  Passion  Play  Company  of  Oberammergau,  Bavaria 


570 


MARY 

Posed  by  a  Member  of  the  Passion  Play  Ccrapany  cf  Oberammergau,  Bavaria 


571 


ST.    JOHN 
Posed  by  a  Member  of  the  Passion  Play  Company,  Oberammergau,  Bavaria 


572 


THE  VILLAGE  OF  OBERAMMERGAU,  BAVARIA 


Home  of  the  Passion  Play 


573 


Where  Two  Roads  Meet 


BY    AXXIE    L.    JACK 

CTAY,  earth  bound  pilgrim,  lay  your  burden  down; 

Linger  yet  awhile  before  you  seek  the  town; 
'Tis  a  blessed  resting-place  at  the  Saviour's  feet, 
Symbolled  by  the  cross — where  two  roads  meet. 

Are  your  footsteps  lagging  on  the  narrow  way, 
Where  stern  duty  calls  your  storm-tossed  soul  to-day  ? 
Here  forget  your  trouble,  life  is  passing  fleet; 
Solace  often  comes — where  two  roads  meet. 

Broad  the  path  of  pleasure,  weary  grow  the  throng — 
Keep  your  courage,  brother;  fear  not  and  be  strong — 
Christ  has  risen  indeed,  O  comfort  sure  and  sweet! 
There's  rest  beside  His  Cross — where  two  roads  meet. 


574 


LOOKING    KRO.M    THE    PLATKuRM    IX    THK    FoKKGROU.XU    SHAH    JEHAX    CHO>E   THE    sITK    uF   THE 
TAJ    MAHAL,    WHICH    CAN    BE    SEEN   IN    THE    DISTANCE 


A  Shrine  of  Love 


Bv  H.  S.  SCOTT  HARD  EX 


The  wonderful  Taj  Mahal,  a  woman's  inspiration,  erected  by  Shah 
Jehan  to  the  memory  oj  Mumtaz  Mahal,  his  -uAje 


X  1607  A.D.,  Shah  Jehan, 
when  15  years  old,  was  be- 
t^,  irothed  to  Mumtaz  Mahal, 
P^^^'iTjJ  a  daughter  of  Nur  Jahan's 
[^^eJL'feJoj  brother.     Five     years     later 


the  marriage  was  celebrated,  and  after 
nineteen  years  of  wedded  life,  in  which 
she  bore  fourteen  children  to  her  royal 
husband,  Mumtaz  Mahal  died  of  the  pain 
of  childbirth  on  June  7th,  1631. 

Overpowered  by  grief  for  a  week,  it  is 
said  Shah  Jehan  refused  to  leave  his 
room,  and  if  kingship  were  not  a  sacred 
charge  he  would  have  turned  fakir  for 
the  rest  of  his  life.  For  months  he  gave 
up  all  pleasures,  all  uses  of  coloured 
dress,  of  scents  and  jewels,  which  every 
oriental  loves,  and  at  every  visit  to  the 


harem  he  returned  with  tears  in  his  eyes, 
saying,  "Nobody's  face  can  delight  me 
now." 

In  a  rare  Persian  manuscript  in  the 
Victoria  Memorial  Hall  at  Agra,  one 
reads  the  following  description  of  the 
death  scene  of  ^lumtaz  Mahal:  "Just 
before  the  birth  of  the  last  child  a  sound 
of  crying  was  heard  in  the  \Vomb  of 
Mumtaz  Mahal.  Immediately  the  doc- 
tor despaired  of  her  life,  and  summoned 
the  Emperor  to  her  side,  when  in  plain- 
tive accents  she  said:  'It  is  well  known 
that  when  the  babe  cries  in  the  womb, 
the  mother  can  never  sur\ive  its  birth. 
Now  that  it  is  my  lot  to  leave  this  mortal 
sphere  for  the  eternal  home,  O  King, 
pardon  every  fault  that  I  have  commit- 


576 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


ted.  Promise  to  keep  my  two  last  re- 
quests: Raise  not  issue  of  any  other 
woman,  lest  her  children  and  mine  should 
come  to  blows  for  the  succession;  and 
build  over  me  such  a  mausoleum  that 
the  like  of  it  may  not  be  seen  anywhere 
else  in  the  world.'" 

The  Taj  Mahal  marks  the  culmination 
of  the  sculptural  art  of  the  Moghuls. 
Some  say  it  was  the  work  of  a  \'enetian 
architect,  others  ascribe  it  to  a  French- 
man. Be  that  as  it  may,  Shah  Jehan 
in  the  plenitude  of  his  power  and  pas- 
sion, standing  on  the  stone  terrace  by 
the  water  edge,  must  have  had  one  great 
thought  in  his  mind — the  last  word  of 
his  beloved  Sultana,  as  he  watched  each 
day  the  workmen  raising  to  her  memory 
the  peerless  monument  that  has  a  soul 
just  as  if  it  had  been  created,  not  made. 

It  is  Mumtaz  JNIahal  herself,  radiant 
in  her  youthful  beauty  at  early  morn,  in 
the  glowing  mid-day  sun  at  that  magic 
moment  when  the  sun  has  set,  or  in  the 
light  of  the  silvery  morn.  It  is,  to  use 
the  words  of  an  Indian  writer,  "A  noble 
tribute  to  the  grace  of  an  Indian  wo- 
man— the  Venus  de  Milo  of  the  East." 

The  figure  of  some  veiled  eastern 
princess    in    the    garden    by    the    shining 


viper  and  the  four  minarets  are  the  sen- 
tinels keeping  guard  over  the  beauty  and 
tenderness  which  so  often  tinds  shelter 
behind  the  purdah  screen  of  the  Indian 
womanhood.  So  from  the  top  of  the 
Baland  Darwaza  one  sees  to-day  low 
down  on  the  horizon  the  white  dome 
like  a  great  pearl  in  all  its  beauty  and 
its  strangeness. 

A  shrine  of  love,  the  inspiration  of  a 
woman — the  great  white  tomb  at  Agra 
is  built  of  the  purest  marble.  The 
brighter  the  glare  of  the  sun  the  more 
beautiful  it  seems,  for  the  shadows  fall- 
ing on  the  alcoves  are  of  that  deep  blue 
colour  which  make  it  seem  so  feminine, 
so  attractive,  like  the  portrait  of  a  wo- 
man, and  one  whom  light  can  only  make 
more  lovely.  Silent,  distant  and  demure 
by  moonlight,  it  has  a  strange  fascina- 
tion which  grows  upon  one  more  and 
more  as  the  moon  rises,  and  the  shadows 
fall  and  hide  the  alcoves  round  the  tomb. 
But  you  have  only  seen  it  from  a  distance. 

As  one  passes  through  the  doorway 
out  of  the  Indian  sun,  the  scene  changes 
and  the  beautiful  trellis  work  like  a  lace 
curtain  studded  with  precious  stones 
adds  further  to  the  sentiment — the  mys- 
terv  of  this  great  tomb. 


E.XTRAXCE    To    THE    TAJ    MAHAL — A    SHRIXE    OF    LOVE 


THE    CONTRAST  577 

Here  topaz  and  turquoise,  lapis  lazuli,  six  million  pounds.     Who  can  tell  ?    To- 

jasper  and  jade  are  woven    with    onyx  day  some  of  the  jewels  may  grace  the 

and  amethysts  in  the  pure  white  marble  crowns  of  European  kings,  or  some  tiara, 

screen  under  the  dome.  or   rest   in    the  hidden  vaults  in  Persia. 

Ong  seems  to  talk  in  a  whisper  just  as  No    one    knows    where    the    peacock 

one  docs  in  any  sacred  building — for  if  throne  went   to.     It  disappeared  in  that 

a  single  note  is  sounded  the  strangeness  mysterious  oriental  way  just  as  it  came, 

of  the  echo  may  be  heard — for  not  till  and  just  as  it  stood  on  the  throne  in  the 

the  note  has  died  away  does  the  deep-  King's  palace  at  Delhi,    where  there  is 

toned    repetition    come    from    the   dome  written:  "If  there  is  a  paradise  on  earth, 

above.  It  is  this,  It  is  this.  It  is  this." 

But  the  Taj  was  not  Shah  Jehan's  only  To  give  an  idea  of  the  wealth  of  the 

work,  for  it  was  he  who  constructed  the  King,  Shah  Jehan  reigned  for  over  thirty 

wonderful   and   famous    peacock    throne  years,  and  with  all  his  undertakings  left 

composed    of    diamonds,    rubies,    emer-  twenty-four  millions  sterling  and  a  vast 

aids    and    sapphires    which    cost    nearly  accumulation  of  wrought  gold  and  silver. 


The  Contrast 


BY    E.    M.    YEOMAN' 

COMES  spring  again  to  the  cold-plundered  earth, 
With  subtle  odours,  and  with  sweet  fresh  flowers, 
And  brilliant  paints,  and  chorus  songs  of  mirth, 
To  light  her  mansion,  and  delight  her  bowers? 

And  where  the  sunbeams  play  in  forest-hush. 
Steals  forth  the  dearworth  mayflow'r  bashfully, 

Fashioned  of  milk  and  faint  vermilion's  blush, 
With  chosen  scent,  in  pure  simplicity. 

Comp'nies  of  fragile,  purple  violets  dance 
In  all  the  green  haunts  of  the  stately  wold; 

Rich  verdure  overspreads  the  mead's  expanse, 

Stained  with  wild  flowers'  pink,  and  white,  and  gold. 

Golden  and  blue,  the  simple  heav'ns  descend, 
Shrill  riotous  with  winged  things'  harmonies. 

Yea!  all  the  earth  with  beauty  doth  resplend, 
And  I  alone  commune  with  miseries. 

Spring's  straying  odours  sicken  all  my  sense 

To  a  narcotic  chaos  of  despair; 
And  little  flow'rs  breathe  forth  no  influence; 

And  songs  seem  frantic  with  ecstatic  care; 

For,  oh!  my  heart  is  weeping-ripe  in  me. 

Chilled  to  a  withered  thing  by  sorrow's  frost; 

And  lo!  it  droops  with  heavy  memor)' 

Of  a  high  love  it  sought,  and  found,  and  lost. 


The  Awakening  of  Spring 


By  S.  T.  WOOD 


An  appreciation  of  the  things  in  nature  that  appear  with 
rejuvenating  spring,  making  the  whole  world  kin 


l.L,  nature  responds  to  the 
spirit  of  a  glad  awakening. 
The  dull  drowsiness  of  a 
season  of  repose  is  thrown  off 
and  the  life  that  is  old,  yet 
ever  new,  pulsates  again  in  the  strength 
and  vigour  of  renewed  youth.  The  un- 
fathomable mystery  of  a  folded  leaf 
pushes  up  through  the  softened  and  nour- 
ishing soil,  eager  to  engage  in  the  endless 
struggle  for  existence,  and  to  transmit 
down  the  ages  the  life  it  has  inherited 
from  the  beginningless  past.  There  must 
he  joy  in  the  unfolding  of  a  flower,  else  it 
could  not  spread  abroad  such  a  con- 
tagious spirit  of  exhilaration.  The  hepat- 
icas  are  eager  to  be  first  on  the  slopes  that 
quiver  in  the  strengthening  rays  of  the 
sun,  while  the  snow  still  lingers  in  the 
shaded  hollows.  The  three-lobed  leaves 
that  lived  contentedly  under  the  snow 
through  the  long  sleep  of  winter  are  nour- 
ishing into  life  the  tenderly  folded  and 
downy  flowers.  These  awaken  in  all 
their  brightness  and  look  up  to  the  vaulted 
sky,  reflecting  its  deepest  blue  or  shading 
into  dainty  tints  of  pink  and  white.  The 
coiled  stems  and  folded  flowers  were  all 
prepared  in  early  fall  and  waited  long  for 
the  magic  touch  that  quickened  them  into 
life.  The  more  retiring  flowers  of  the 
trailing  arbutus  can  be  found  hiding  and 
wasting  their  delicate  perfume  under  the 
carpet  of  dry  leaves  spread  by  the  trees  in 
autumn.  Those  white,  waxy,  tubular 
flowers  concealed  in  the  clusters  of  hardy 
green  leaves  and  covered  with  the  shrivelled 
and  fallen  debris  of  the  past  year  were  also 
prepared  in  early  autumn,  but  only  the 
genial  magic  of  spring  can  coax  the 
waiting  buds  to  expand.  Down  in  the 
swampy  places',  where  the  ice  lingers,  the 
graceful,  fleshy,  shell-like  flower  of  the 
skunk  cabbage  is  resting  on   the  yielding 

578 


mud,  while  the  leaves  that  will  soon  give 
the  place  a  tropical  aspect  appear  as 
sharp  and  tightly  folded  points  of  green, 
formed  to  penetrate  the  imprisoning  soil. 
This  flower  is  always  greeted  as  the  first 
of  the  spring,  but  its  best  friends  know  it 
in  the  fall  and  see  it  settle  to  sleep  under 
the  first  covering  of  snow.  There  it  re- 
poses awaiting  the  summons  to  the  great 
revival.  Where  the  strengthening  sun 
plays  directly  on  the  southern  slopes,  the 
hills  seem  to  tremble  under  the  touch  of 
its  reviving  rays.  That  evanescent  quiv- 
ering warmth  is  among  the  most  inviting 
of  all  the  signs  of  returning  life.  On 
nearer  approach  the  trembling  refractions 
disappear,  but  the  ground  has  many  more 
permanent  signs  of  life.  The  rounded 
tops  of  mandrakes  are  pushing  their  dull 
way  up  through  the  yielding  soil,  and  a 
sharper  spike  of  paler  and  more  closely 
folded  leaves  shows  where  Jack-in-the- 
pulpit  will  stand  with  becoming  dignity. 
The  glossy,  dappled  leaves  of  the  dog's 
tooth  violet  are  appearing  in  straggling 
beds,  but  it  is  too  early  to  look  for  the 
yellow  flowers  that  will  soon  bend  over  to 
whisper  a  benediction  on  mother  earth. 
The  trilliums  are  forcing  their  way 
through  the  soil  and  the  eye  runs  quickly 
from  one  green  point  to  another  in  hope 
of  finding  an  opening  flower. 

A  clear,  distant  call  brings  sudden  for- 
getfulness  of  the  quiet  life  of  the  ground 
and  an  eager  quest  for  the  bright  messen- 
ger, heralding  his  return  from  the  far 
south.  "First!  First!"  the  bluebird's 
call  has  been  interpreted  by  one  of  his 
most  devoted  admirers,  who  has  caught 
the  tone  and  spirit  of  his  greeting.  The 
bright  spot  of  blue  stands  out  clear  and 
distinct  on  the  still  naked  branches  of  a 
box  alder,  and  as  he  flies  to  some  lower 
shrubbery  after  an  impatient  pause,  the 


THE   AWAKENING   OF   SPRING 


579 


soft  red  of  his  breast  shows  in  happy  con- 
trast. Another  and  another  follow  at 
unsociable  distances,  for  they  are  the  ad- 
vance guard  of  male  birds  that  have  come 
to  seek  habitations.  In  a  few  days  they 
will  be  seeking  partners  among  the  later 
arrivals,  and  will  be  selecting  safe  retreats, 
bored  by  the  industrious  woodpeckers, 
for  their  well-guarded  domestic  estab- 
lishments. A  shadow  sweeps  along  the 
uneven  ground  and  up  against  the  blue 
sky  four  crows  pass  with  steady  strokes, 
their  strained  pinions  showing  in  fine, 
clear,  black  outline.  They  turn  to  a 
growth  of  restful  pines,  calling  out  in 
varied  tones,  and  suddenly  growing  un- 
certain and  excited.  Alighting  moment- 
arily and  circling  back  and  forth,  they 
noisily  declare  themselves  with  vigorous 
independence.  What  a  romance  would 
be  revealed  by  an  interpretation  of  those 
varied  cries,  rattling  gutturals  and  many 
changes  and  pasturingsl  There  is  love, 
rivalry,  jealousy,  anger,  fear,  uncertainty, 
all  the  passions  and  sentiments  that  go  to 
make  up  the  trials  and  triumphs  of  life. 
Away  they  go  with  their  noisy  disputations, 
and  once  more  the  delicate  chords  respond 
to  a  lighter  touch.  The  call  of  the  song 
sparrow,  bright,  clear,  varied  and  cheer- 
ful, is  poured  out  to  the  blue  sky  from  a 
perch  at  the  top  of  a  beech  whose  length- 
ening, thorn-like  buds  already  give  prom- 
ise of  the  summer's  foliage.  Again  and 
again  he  raises  his  voice,  alone  but  not 
lonely,  for  the  joy  of  singing  is  its  own 
satisfying  response.  He  seems  strangely 
satisfied  with  himself — a  contrast  to  the 
impatient  bluebirds  and  disputing  crows. 
In  all  the  bursting,  quivering  and  chang- 
ing manifestations  of  spring  there  is  none 
more  attractively  assuring  than  the  birds 
returning  with  the  season  or  responding 
to  its  inspiring  influence.  Ever}'  arrival 
is  welcomed  with  happy  eagerness.  The 
robin  we  all  know,  for  the  city's  vapours 
have  no  terrors  for  him.  He  may  loiter 
about  all  winter,  showing  himself  occa- 
sionally and  calling  out  in  the  passing 
gleams  of  sunshine  to  awaken  delusive 
hopes  of  spring.  The  noisy,  vigorous, 
showy  and  mischievous  jays  remain 
through  the  winter,  gathering  food  from 
many  sources  and  sometimes  appealing 
to   the   kindness   of   suburban   residents. 


The  woodpeckers  never  desert  us,  and 
the  shrikes  and  saw-whit  owls  find  their 
diminutive  prey  throughout  the  harshest 
of  seasons.  The  hasty  and  tiutiering 
snowbirds  gather  on  the  weedy,  ojjen 
spaces  in  irregular  flocks,  searching  for 
scattered  seeds  along  the  black  ridges  of 
naked  earth.  But  when  the  timid  blue- 
bird displays  his  rich  colours  in  the 
strengthening  sunlight  and  the  song  spar- 
row's familiar  call  rises  from  a  conspicu- 
ous perch,  it  is  an  assurance  that  the  spirit 
of  spring  is  really  in  the  air.  It  would  be 
unfair  to  deny  full  recognition  to  the 
message  of  the  robin,  because  an  oc- 
casional hardy  straggler  remains  through 
the  winter.  The  new  arrivals  are  quite 
sociable  in  the  morning  after  the  long 
companionship  of  their  night  journey, 
and  they  move  along  over  the  open  spaces 
picking  up  the  slugs  and  grubs  that  have 
lain  through  the  winter  awaiting  a  sum- 
mons to  take  up  their  part  in  the  grand 
transformation.  The  killdeer  is  first 
among  the  waders,  and  is  calling  loudly 
and  showing  his  striking  contrast  of  white 
and  orange  along  the  shores  of  the  still 
swollen  creeks  and  rivers.  Wild  and  dis- 
tant, he  is  intolerant  of  every  attempt  at 
familiarity,  but  the  flash  of  his  wings  and 
the  greeting  of  his  shrill  call  blend  natur- 
ally in  the  great  opening  chorus. 

Nature  is  everv^vhere  renewing  her 
youth.  She  has  been  dreaming,  and  the 
white  mantle  is  just  drawn  aside.  The 
pussies  on  the  willow  trees  are  pushing 
their  little  grey  noses  from  under  their 
black-brown  hoods.  The  long  catkins 
of  the  alders  are  showing  signs  of  life. 
and  elongating  into  yellow  pendants.  A 
broken  sassafras  twig  fills  the  air  with  one 
of  the  most  delightful  of  forest  odours. 
It  is  hard  to  resist  the  boyish  impulse  to 
cut  a  maple  tree  and  taste  the  sap,  or  to 
crush  the  buds  of  the  black  birch  to 
enjoy  its  rich  perfume.  The  moss  is 
melting  holes  for  itself  through  the  linger- 
ing patches  of  black  and  littered  ice.  The 
wintergreen  is  all  about,  covering  occa- 
sional patches  with  rich  green  leaves,  and 
sometimes  timidly  displa^ang  a  brilliant, 
tempting  scarlet  berr}'.  It  has  defied  the 
frost,  the  snow  and  the  ice  of  winter,  and 
now  comes  forth  with  sturdy  vigour,  as  if 
but  newly  awakened  into  life.     The  linger- 


580 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


ing  ice  is  shrinking  away  from  the  awak- 
ening shore  along  the  swampy  margins  of 
the  streams  and  there  the  water  cress  is 
clearly  displaying  its  tender  green,  as  an 
assurance  of  the  continuity  of  life  through 
the  long  sleep  of  winter.  On  the  shore 
some  sassafras  trees  are  completely  gird- 
led at  the  ground  and  doomed  to  die. 
The  muskrats  are  active  in  building  their 
coarse,  weedy  houses  in  the  water,  or  tun- 
nelling the  banks,  but  they  have  not  been 
guilty  of  this  work  of  destruction.  The 
tiny  wounds  show  the  sharp  teeth  of  the 
arvicola,  the  diminutive  relative  of  the 
beaver,  who  works  actively  under  the 
snow  all  winter,  rising  occasionally  to  the 
surface  to  breathe  or  to  flounder  help- 
lessly along  for  a  few  feet,  leaving  a  track 
looking  pitifully  weak  in  the  broad  white 
expanse.  But  the  marks  of  his  depreda- 
tions revealed  in  the  spring  make  a  for- 
midable contrast  to  the  feeble  disclosures 
of  his  presence  in  winter. 


The  spring  invites  with  every  manifesta- 
tion of  eager  life.  High  in  the  air  a  gray 
goshawk  is  slowly  circling,  almost  trans- 
parent against  the  clear  sky,  while  down 
among  the  pines  another  member  of  the 
hawk  family  is  in  trouble  with  the  crows, 
who  are  chasing  him  mercilessly  from  tree 
to  tree.  Out  of  the  thicket  comes  a  lively 
tattoo,  as  the  downy  woodpecker  calls 
his  friends  by  drumming  on  a  resonant 
limb.  In  every  sound,  in  every  aspect  of 
the  landscape,  in  the  yellow  and  brown 
tint  of  the  still  naked  tracery  in  the  dis- 
tance, or  the  close  thrust  of  the  folded 
trillium  through  the  soil,  there  is  the  in- 
viting spirit  of  life's  renewal.  Every 
swelling  bud  breathes  out  the  joy  of  ex- 
istence. Every  vital  cell  that  quickens 
with  the  coursing  sap  feels  the  delight  of 
new  life.  And  every  vein  pulsating  with 
the  crimson  stream,  responds  to  the 
magic  touch  that  makes  the  whole  world 
kin. 


Ethics  of  the  Farm 


UGALD  MACPHERSON  used  to  say  that  it  is  a  good  plan  never  to 
tell  anyone  where  you  buy  your  seed  grain.  And  he  was  about  right. 
He  figured  this  way:  Suppose,  for  instance,  that  I  get  from  John  Smith 
a  sowing  of  what  is  calculated  to  be  Ai  wheat.  I  tell  my  neighbours 
all  about  it — what  I  paid  for  it,  where  I  got  it,  and  how  many  pounds  it  goes 
to  the  bushel.  Of  course,  we  are  only  supposing  that;  I  really  would  not  tell  them 
anything  about  it.  Smith's  wheat  happens  to  turn  out  bad  this  year,  and  becomes 
known  all  over  the  section  for  its  smut.  Mine  suffers  as  a  natural  consequence,  even 
though  by  a  beneficent  act  of  Providence  it  should  be  as  clean  as  a  scalded  porker. 
That  means  that  my  wheat  will  not  sell  for  seed  any  sooner  than  Smith's,  which  is 
not  at  all.  On  its  reputation  alone  it  will  go  in  the  hands  of  the  buyers  or  millers 
several  grades  lower  than  it  otherwise  would.  Thus  I  lose  by  my  own  indiscretion. 
But  if  I  say  nothing  to  my  neighbours  about  my  seed  grain.  Smith's  wheat  and  its 
reputation  will  have  no  reflection  on  mine.  Even  should  there  be  some  smut  here 
and  there  in  my  crop,  the  chance  is,  provided  the  weather  is  dry,  that  we  can  fan  it 
out  and  that  the  inspectors  will  never  detect  it.  But  fanning  until  Doomsday  would 
not  square  you  with  the  neighbours,  should  it  be  known  where  you  got  the  seed. 

So  it  can  be  seen  that  there  are  business  secrets  to  guard  on  the  farm  as  well  as 
in  the  city.  Of  course,  there  are  ways  to  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag  at  the  right  time; 
but  that  is  just  where  the  real  secret  comes  in.  Farmer  John 


Madame  de  Montier's  Cream  Puflfs 


Bv  MARY  6'.   WILLIAMS 


An  iin sophisticated  girl  takes  rank  by  unexpectedly  turning 
the  application  of  an  A II- Fool's  Day  joke 


T  was  about  four  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  of  a  typical 
first  day  of  April.  Montreal 
lay  washed  in  wild  and  wat- 
ery sunshine,  as  Van  Wundt 
"sloped"  a  lecture,  and  strode  back  to  his 
boarding-house  in  a  distinctly  aggressive 
frame  of  mind.  Had  he  been  at  home 
he  would  certainly  have  teased  his  little 
sister.  As  it  was,  he  appropriated  the 
most  uncomfortable  chair  which  the 
boarding-house  parlour  afforded,  and 
made  himself  generally  and  conspicuously 
disagreeable  to  the  other  inmates. 

A  common  impulse  toward  sociability 
and  a  common  aversion  to  Montreal 
streets  on  an  April  day  had  drawn  the 
lodgers  of  Madame  de  Montier's  board- 
ing-house by  mutual  consent  to  the  one 
stuffy  little  parlour  which  the  establish- 
ment afforded.  The  girl  from  Jamaica 
was  deftly  fastening  mesh  after  mesh  of 
airy  stitches  to  the  edge  of  an  "umbrella 
shawl"  which  was  nearing  completion. 
Van  Wundt  knew  that  she  wished  him  to 
admire  it,  so  he  carefully  refrained  from 
even  a  casual  glance  in  its  direction.  Miss 
Dawe,  the  high  school  teacher,  was 
evidently  inclined  for  conversation  after 
her  monotonous  day's  grind,  but  Van 
Wundt  cheerfully  wet-blanketed  all  her 
attempts  at  affability.  Presently,  Graham, 
the  medical  student,  strolled  in,  while 
"Wabbles,"  the  Theolog.,  could  be  heard 
trying  to  adjust  a  disagreement  between 
his  latch-key  and  the  street  door. 

Graham  deposited  his  long  limbs  on 
the  sofa  beside  the  Jamaica  girl,  and 
adroitly  admired  her  work.  Van  Wundt 
was  well  aware  that  he  could  have  manu- 
factured quite  as  effective  a  compliment 
himself.  He  also  realised  that  he  had 
purposely  and  obstinately  refrained  from 
informing  the  girl  from  Jamaica  that  her 

581 


umbrella  shawl  was  the  "real  thing." 
But  notwithstanding  these  facts  he  ex- 
perienced a  sense  of  deep  personal  injury 
when  he  saw  the  smile  which  he  had  come 
to  consider  his  especial  property  bestowed 
on  Graham.  With  no  very  clear  idea  in 
his  mind  beyond  a  general  desire  to  -at- 
tract attention,  he  stalked  toward  the 
sofa;  and  at  this  juncture  the  street  door- 
bell emitted  the  preparatory  wheeze  which 
always  prefaced  its  discordant  peal.  Van 
Wundt  hastily  forestalled  the  ringing  of 
the  bell,  and  immediately  found  himself 
possessed  of  a  formless,  bulky  parcel, 
suspiciously  light  in  its  avoirdupois. 

"I  suppose,"  he  observed,  as  he  de- 
posited the  parcel  on  the  parlour  table, 
"  that  for  once  in  the  course  of  our  natural 
existence,  our  thoughts  run  in  the  same 
conjectural  channel." 

"How  I'd  love  to  know  what's  in  it!" 
cried  the  Jamaica  girl,  impulsively. 

"Cut  it  a  lick  with  your  knife,  Van 
Wundt,"  commanded  Graham.  "If  I 
am  to  be  April-fooled,"  retorted  Van 
Wundt,  with  dignity,  "I  don't  intend 
evervone  to  know  it."  Nevertheless,  he 
indulged  his  curiosity  to  the  extent  of  a 
prolonged  squint  through  a  microscopic 
aperture  which  he  had  probed  for  the 
purpose. 

"  Cream  puffs,  by  Jove! "  he  announced, 
and  turned  suddenly  to  face  the  expectant 
group  of  boarders  pressing  close  about 
him. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  declaimed, 
marking  his  periods  with  gestures  which 
might  be  intended  to  convey  everything 
in  general,  and  nothing  in  particular. 
"Ladies  and  gentlemen:  It  has  just  oc- 
curred to  me  what  a  'spiff'  thing  it  would 
be  to  secrete  these  puffs,  which  Madame 
has  evidently  ordered  up  for  dinner;  then, 
after   there   has  been   a   jolly   fuss,   and 


582 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


Madame  has  routed  the  pastry  shops,  to 
work  off  the  conjuring  act  and  produce 
them  to  a  triumphant  accompaniment  of 
seh'-laudation;  that  is,  to  appear  with 
cream  puffs,  as  if  by  magic." 

The  idea  did  not  sound  as  prepossessing 
in  actual  narration  as  it  had  appeared  to 
Van  Wundt  in  the  moment  of  inspiration, 
but  either  because  the  boarders  had  noth- 
ing better  to  do,  or  were  relieved  to  see 
him  approach  a  happier  frame  of  mind, 
they  indorsed  the  scheme  with  zest  and 
interest.  The  cream  puffs  were  then  hid- 
den in  an  old-fashioned  chintz-covered 
sofa — a  whited  sepulchre  of  hypocrisy, 
but  whose  hollow  form  concealed  nothing 
worse  than  clean  sheets  and  pillow-cases. 

"Do  you  think  it's  wicked,  Wabbles?" 
Van  Wundt  demanded  of  that  colourless 
individual. 

•'Oh,  I'll  let  the  rest  of  you  shoulder 
the  consequences,"  he  drawled,  and  de- 
parted. 

"Wabbles,"  Van  \\'undt  observed  with 
mild  conviction,  "  is  an  utter  ass  and  fool." 

'T  like  Mr.  Walters,"  the  Jamaica  girl 
stoutly  averred,  in  conscientious  defence 
of  the  absent. 

"Wabbles,"  Van  Wundt  repeated,  un- 
abashed, "is  a  narrow-minded  bigot.  He 
won't  shave  his  moustache,  and  he 
studiously  avoids  a  rush." 

"Mr.  Wahers  is  a  good  churchman," 
Miss  Dawe  observed,  somewhat  stiffly. 

Miss  Dawe  was  as  genuine  in  her  high 
churchism  as  "Wabbles"  was  hypocritic 
in  his,  and  Van  Wundt  respected  the 
difference. 

"I've  no  kick  against  him  for  being 
high  church,  Miss  Dawe,"  he  lucidly  ex- 
plained; "it's  simply  because  he's — 
Wabbles,  and  it  now  occurs  to  me  that  it 
would  be  a  very  funny  thing  to  take  those 
cream  puffs  out  of  the  sofa,  and  hide 
them  in  some  other  place  unbeknown  to 
Wabbles.  At  the  proper  moment  we'll 
delegate  him  to  produce  them,  and  he'll 
be — nonplussed . 

"I'm  game!"  said  Graham,  shortly. 

"Do  you  think  he'd  mind?"  asked  the 
Jamaica  girl,  with  compunction. 

"  Certainly  not,"  Van  Wundt  assured 
her.  "He  never  knows  w^hen  he's  sat 
upon." 

They    carefully    transferred    the    puffs 


from  the  chintz-covered  sofa  to  a  certain 
dark  closet  under  the  stairs,  where  Mad- 
ame allowed  snowshoes  and  other  cum- 
bersome valuables  to  be  stored.  This 
done,  Graham  deals  Van  Wundt  a  re- 
sounding thwack  on  the  back.  "I'm  off' 
to  plug,  old  man,"  he  said,  "and  that's 
where  you  ought  to  be." 

"True  it  is,  worse  luck,"  muttered  Van 
Wundt,  plucking  distractedly  at  his  wisp- 
ish  locks.  But  as  he  did  not  immediately 
follow  the  path  of  duty  pointed  out  by 
Graham,  and  as  Miss  Dawe  recollected 
some  forgotten  task  requiring  immediate 
attention,  the  Jamaica  girl  and  he  were 
left  alone  in  the  little  woolly  parlour. 

The  advent  of  the  Jamaica  girl  to 
Madame  de  Montier's  boarding-house 
dated  from  the  previous  September.  She 
was  a  "Freshie"  at  the  Royal  Victoria 
College,  and  had  become  an  inmate  of 
Madame's  establishment  for  the  purpose 
of  supplementing  her  somewhat  superficial 
knowledge  of  French.  Her  English  an- 
cestors had  bequeathed  her  the  rare  in- 
stincts of  a  gentlewoman,  combined  with 
a  pitifully  atrophied  sense  of  humour; 
and  she  had  made  her  debut  into  Cana- 
dian college  life  in  a  condition  of  such 
verdant  guilelessness  that  Graham  and 
Van  Wundt  had  deemed  it  a  humane  act 
to  "educate"  her;  an  operation  which 
they  proceeded  to  carry  out  in  a  manner 
highly  diverting  to  themselves.  The  hor- 
rors of  Canadian  winters  constituted  a 
particularly  fruitful  field  of  enlightenment, 
and  additional  zest  had  flavoured  these 
narrations,  in  view  of  the  winter's  near 
approach.  The  Jamaica  girl  listened 
with  polite  credulity  to  impossible  tales, 
told  with  unwinking  mendacity.  One 
day  when  Van  Wundt  (merely  for  the 
sake  of  imparting  information  which 
might  prove  interesting  to  a  foreigner) 
mentioned  that  in  midwinter  the  streets 
of  Canadian  cities  become  so  icy  that  the 
horses  are  shod  with  skates  to  guard  them 
against  frequent  falls,  and  that  so  pro- 
tected they  hold  their  forefeet  stiffly  in 
position,  and  swiftly  propel  themselves 
from  behind  with  a  gentle,  undulating 
movement.  It  was  then  that  the  Jamaica 
girl's  trusting  nature  was  rudely  shaken. 
For  a  time  she  persistently  disbelieved 
everything,  but  under  his  zealous  minis- 


MADAME    l)i:    MONTIER'S    CREAM    PUFFS 


.583 


trations,  Van  W'undl  was  gratified  to  ob 
serve  her  dormant  sense  of  humour  begin 
to  put  forth  ditlfident  sprouts  and  buds. 

It  was  growing  dusk  in  the  little  woolly 
y)arlour,  and  through  the  windows  a  few- 
umbrellas  could  be  seen  to  bob  back  and 
forth  in  the  murky  closing  of  the  April 
day.  Van  Wundt  crossed  the  room  and 
sat  down  beside  the  Jamaica  girl.  A  fold 
of  the  umbrella  shawl  strayed  over  his 
knee,  like  a  fluff  of  white  sea-foam.  He 
leaned  impulsively  toward  her,  and  spoke 
in  an  undertone.  "Don't  you  think  it 
would  be  dear  for  just  us  two  to  know?" 
he  ended,  persuasively. 

She  met  his  eyes,  then  turned  aside  her 
own,  and  sank  back  on  the  sofa  with  soft 
laughter. 

"This  is  an  expansive  April-fool  joke," 
Van  Wundt  persisted,  eagerly.  "It  has 
links  and  links,  like  a  chain  letter,"  he 
supplemented,  vaguely.  He  was  think- 
ing, at  the  moment,  how  enchanting  her 
dusky  hair  would  look  in  the  filmy  setting 
of  the  umbrella  shawl. 

"It  would  be  simply  great,  you  know," 
he  went  on,  reverting  to  the  project  he 
had  in  view. 

The  Jamaica  girl  looked  up  at  him 
with  the  soft,  compelling  insistence  for 
attention  which  her  dark  eyes  nearly 
always  expressed. 

"It  would  be  the — absolute — limit! 
woiddnH  it?"  she  said,  naively,  as  one 
repeating  a  lesson. 

There  is  in  Madame  de  ]Slontier's 
boarding-house  a  curious  little  cupboard, 
wedged  into  the  wall  at  the  head  of  the 
flight  of  stairs  which  leads  to  the  base- 
ment territories  of  kitchen  and  dining- 
room.  This  cupboard,  being  unused  and 
of  innocent  appearance,  seemed  to  Van 
Wundt  peculiarly  adapted  for  secretive 
purposes. 

"  Of  course,  you  w:ill  play  the  same 
trick  upon  me,  Mr.  Van  Wundt,"  re- 
marked the  Jamaica  girl,  tentatively,  as 
they  shut  the  cupboard  door  upon  the  ill- 
used  puffs.  He  bent  on  her  a  glance 
intended  to  convey  unutterable  reproach, 
mingled  with  tender  reassurance.  What 
it  did  reveal,  he,  possibly,  never  knew, 
but  she  hastily  murmured  something 
about  Delta  Sigma  minutes  to  be  copied, 
and  beat  a  precipitate  retreat. 


Dinner  at  the  boarding-house  that  night 
was  a  hilarious  affair.  An  indefinable 
sense  of  expectancy  hung  in  the  air,  and 
the  lodgers  unanimously  granted  them- 
selves a  respite  from  French  conversation. 
In  the  comprehensive  April-fool  prank 
which  Van  Wundt  had  so  painstakingly 
organised,  each  one  present  felt  himself  or 
herself  to  be  j^eculiarly  a  shareholder.  In 
due  course  of  time  the  soup  was  partaken 
of,  and  carried  out.  Justice  was  also  done 
to  the  meat  course,  which  likewise  re- 
traced its  journey  kitchenward.  Then 
Madame,  punctuating  her  words  with 
graphic  gestures,  began  to  offer  profuse 
apologies.  "  De  leetle  treat"  which  she 
had  planned  for  dinner  had  not  mater- 
ialised. She  was  "inconsolable."  She 
should  have  known  better  than  to  trust 
the  mediant  houlanger  shops  to  send 
cream  puffs  the  day  of  ordering  in  time 
for  dinner! 

Graham  and  Van  Wundt  emitted  dis- 
mal groans,  expressive  of  chagrin  and 
disappointment,  and  signalled  frantically 
to  Wabbles.  Wabbles,  keyed  to  the 
highest  pitch  of  vivacity  of  which  his 
phlegmatic  nature  was  capable,  rose  from 
his  seat,  and  delivered  himself  of  utter- 
ances which  reflected  credit  upon  the 
ambiguous  trend  of  his  clerical  mind. 
He  ended  by  stating  that  he  had  a  mys- 
terious but  firm  conviction  that  he  would 
be  able  to  produce  the  lamented  cream 
puffs,  if  ]Madame  would  have  the  good- 
ness to  excuse  him  from  the  table  for  a 
moment. 

There  was  a  certain  tension  upon  the 
boarders  as  they  listened  to  the  scraping 
sounds  which  issued  from  the  parlour 
where  Wabbles  was  wrestling  with  the  tena- 
cious sofa-lid.  When  he  emerged  from  the 
upper  region,  he  wore  a  fashion  of  coun- 
tenance which  satisfied  even  Van  Wundt's 
abnormal  craving.  In  vulgar  phraseol- 
ogy', Wabbles  was  "mad" — the  slow, 
white  resentment  which  bides  its  time, 
and  pays  with  interest. 

"Wabbles  is  unreliable,"  said  Van 
Wundt,  consolingly,  to  cover  any  awk- 
wardness arising  from  the  failure  of  the 
expedition.  But  already  Graham  had 
arisen,  and  was  declaring  that  Madame 
would  believe  him  demented,  but  that  he 
experienced  a  sensation  precisely  similar 


584 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


to  the  one  Wabbles  had  felt.  He  ex- 
plained how  ardently  those  present  longed 
for  the  cream  puffs  (a  delicacy  to  which 
they  were  all  particularly  susceptible), 
but  how,  above  every  other  consideration, 
he  wished  to  obviate  any  distress  of  mind 
occasioned  to  Madame  herself  by  their 
non-appearance. 

A  sound  of  scuffling  directly  overhead 
followed  Graham's  exit.  It  continued  for 
some  time.  Then  the  listening  company 
below  heard  him  impatiently  strike  a 
match. 

Graham  bore  the  reputation  of  being 
one  of  the  best-natured  chaps  in  college. 
But  allowing  this,  it  is  an  acknowledged 
fact  that  the  masculine  nature  resents 
posing  as  a  dupe,  especially  before  the 
fair  sex;  and  Graham's  fierce  descent  of 
the  basement  stairs  brought  home  to  Van 
Wundt  the  realisation  that  vengeance 
was  accumulating.  Graham's  retaliation, 
he  knew,  would  be  swift,  sure,  perfectly 
above  board,  but — effectual. 

"Perhaps,"  Madame  hinted,  "some- 
body more  has  de  sensation^ 

"Ah  oui,  Madame  1 "  Van  Wundt  cried, 
exultingly.  "C'est  a  moi.  But  I  feel  the 
need  of  some  fair  one  to  encourage  me  on 
my  lonely  quest.  If  such  an  one  (he 
broke  off,  and  looked  at  the  Jamaica  girl 
inquiringly)  would  accompany  me,  there 
would  be  no  fear  of  dire  disappointments." 

It  was  dark  at  the  head  of  the  stairs 
where  the  little  cupboard  stood,  and  Van 
Wundt  fumbled  awkwardly  for  the  knob, 
while  thrills  went  through  him  as  he  oc- 
casionally encountered  the  Jamaica  girl's 
hand  trying  to  aid  his  search.  Presently 
the  door  swung  back  and  he  reached  into 
the  Aperture.  "By  jove!"  he  ejaculated, 
in  consternation.  "Well,  by  jove!"  he 
reiterated,  helplessly.  He  could  not  see 
his  companion's  face,  but  he  felt,  in- 
stinctively, her  quick  alarm  and  wonder. 

"What  is  it?"  she  whispered,  close  to 
his  arm. 

"Thev're    gone,"    Van     Wundt    said, 


bluntly,  and  for  once  in  his  life  he  felt  as 
if  he  had  nothing  in  particular  to  say. 

It  was  a  rather  depressed  company  that 
strove  to  appreciate  Madame's  makeshift 
dessert.  The  joke  was  not  proving  as 
altogether  satisfactory  as  had  been  an- 
ticipated; for  each  one  had  secretly  con- 
templated with  pleasure  the  ultimate 
restoration  of  the  puffs,  and  it  was  humil- 
iating to  be  forced  to  be  resigned  to  sago 
pudding. 

Suddenly  Madame  appeared  to  have 
received  an  electric  shock.  "  De  inspira- 
tion!^^ she  gasped.  "  It  is  to  me  I  Exnisez- 
moi,  mes  enfants,^^  and  she  flew  kitchen- 
ward. 

A  few  minutes  after,  when  everyone 
was  luxuriously  engaged  in  munching 
cream  puffs.  Van  Wundt  cast  a  furtive 
glance  around  the  table.  In  the  pacified 
countenances  of  Wabbles  and  •  Graham 
he  read  his  acquittal.  They  attributed  the 
discovery  to  accident.  This  solution  of 
the  |)roblem  did  not,  however,  satisfy  Van 
Wundt  himself.  Miss  Dawe  was  plainly 
floundering  beyond  her  depth  in  the  be- 
wildering phases  which  the  episode  had 
assumed.  But  with  a  sudden  keenness 
born  of  a  fresh  inspiration,  he  turned  his 
scrutiny  upon  the  Jamaica  girl.  A  de- 
mure satisfaction  rested  on  her  face,  and 
— ever  watchful — Van  Wundt  surprised 
a  covert  glance  of  amusement  and  under- 
standing pass  betwixt  her  and  Madame 
de  Montier. 

Half  an  hour  later,  under  cover  of 
Graham's  strenuous  rendering  of  "Mr. 
Dooley,"  Van  Wundt  squared  his  shoul- 
ders, and  approached  the  Jamaica  girl. 
She  was  standing  in  the  bow  window  of 
the  little  parlour,  looking  out  into  the 
night.  The  crimson  of  the  long  woolly 
curtains  lapped  against  her  white  gown 
like  an  encroaching  sea  of  flame.  She 
turned,  as  Van  Wundt  stood  beside 
her. 

"I  guess  you're — even  now,  Ele^ior," 
he  said,  magnanimously. 


Scottish-Canadian  Poetry 


By    WILLIAM    CAMPBELL 


The  -first  of  two  articles  dealing  with  the  personality  and 
work  0}  Scottish  poets  in  Canada 


COTLAND  is  known,  the 
world  over,  as  the  Land  of 
Song.  It  has  been  estim- 
ated that  "the  Land  of 
iirown  Heath  and  Shaggy 
Wood"  has  given  birth  to  two  hundred 
thousand  poets.  This  seems  like  an 
exaggeration,  but  that  the  statement  has 
been  made  is  quite  true.  Is  it  a  matter 
for  wonder,  then,  that  this  vast  army  of 
poets  has  continued  to  overflow  into 
other  lands,  and  that  the  members  are 
scattered  abroad  over  the  whole  earth  ? 
Canada  has  welcomed  many  of  those 
wanderers  to  her  shores;  and  in  their 
new  surroundings  they  have  not  ceased 
to  cultivate  the  muses.  The  Scot  has 
a  happy  faculty  of  getting  reconciled  to 
new  environments;  and  time  has  proved 
that  he  can  sing — if  not  as  blithely,  cer- 
tainly as  ably  and  as  sweetly,  under  the 
shade  of  the  Canadian  maple  as  when 
he  trod  his  native  heath.  Scottish- 
Canadian  poets,  which  include  native- 
born  Scots,  and  their  descendants,  have 
wTittcn  in  recent  years,  say  during  the 
past  half  century,  some  very  fine  poems 
and  songs.  The  theme  of  their  lays  has 
in  numerous  instances  been  found  in 
Canada — in  the  forest,  on  the  farm,  and 
in  the  busy  city;  yet  it  has  to  be  admit- 
ted that  some  of  the  tenderest  and  most 
heart-stirring  among  their  productions 
have  been  inspired  by  scenes  and  faces 
of  other  days  in  the  dear  home-land.  It 
could  not  well  be  otherwise.  Those  of 
us  who  have  spent  our  early  days  in  Scot- 
land, however  strong  the  ties  we  form 
in  this  new  land,  a  land  literally  "  flowing 
with  milk  and  honey,"  be  it  said,  cannot 
forget  the  mother-land,  and  the  expatriated 
Scot's  pent-up  feelings  have  found  an 
outlet  in  describing,  in  glowing  language, 
the   scenes   of   his   happy   boyhood   and 

7—585 


the  faces  of  lh(jse  who  were  dear  \.o  him 
in  the  "days  o'  Lang  Syne."  "Absence 
makes  the  heart  grow  fonder,"  and 

"Time  but  tlie  impression  stronger  makes, 
As  streams  their  channels  deeper  wear." 

The  number  of  poets  who  have  cheered 
and  charmed  their  countrymen  and 
countrywomen,  and  their  descendants, 
on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic  can  be  reck- 
oned by  hundreds.  And  it  can  be  truth- 
fully stated  that  many  of  the  poems  and 
songs  written  by  "the  Scot  abroad"  will 
compare  very  favourably  with  the  prod- 
ucts of  the  Scot  at  home. 

Up  to  the  year  1905  no  anthology  of 
purely  Scottish-Canadian  poetry  had  been 
compiled,  although  numerous  books  of 
poetry  had  been  published  by  authors, 
among  whom  may  be  mentioned  Alex- 
ander McLachlan,  Evan  MacCoU,  Rob- 
ert Reid,  Rev.  Wm.  Wye  Smith,  John 
Imrie,  Alexander  H.  Wingfield,  Andrew 
Wanless,  Rev.  A.  J.  Lockhart,  Donald 
McCaig,  John  Macfarlane  and  others. 
Among  those  who  have  distinguished 
themselves  as  poets,  but  who  have  not 
published  their  writings  in  book  form, 
the  following  call  for  special  mention: 
John  Simpson,  Dr.  John  Murdoch  Har- 
per, Rev.  Andrew  Macnab,  John  Mor- 
timer, Mrs.  Mary  A.  Maitland,  Mrs. 
Jessie  Wanless  Brack,  Mrs.  Margaret 
Beatrice  Burgess,  Dr.  Daniel  Clark,  Miss 
H.  Isabel  Graham,  Thomas  Laidlaw, 
Mrs.  Isabelle  Ecclestone  MacKay,  Agnes 
Tytler,  William  Telford,  Edwin 'G.  Nel- 
son, William  ^Murdock,  Alexander  Muir, 
Rev.  G.  Bruce,  D.D.;  Robert  Boyd, 
Malcolm  MacCormack,  W.  M.  Mac- 
Keracher,  John  Steele,  Allan  Ross,  Airs. 
Georgiana  Eraser  Newhall,  and  George 
Pirie.  This  does  not,  by  any  means, 
exhaust  the  list,  but  it  includes  the  more 


586 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


EVAN    MacCOLL 

prominent  amongst  those  of  the  pasl 
two  generations. 

The  Scottish  muse  does  not  pose  as 
a  classical  beauty,  but  is  rather  a  "  simple 
country  lass,  fresh,  buoyant,  buxom  and 
healthy,  full  of  true  affections  and  kindly 
charities;  a  barefooted  maiden  that  scorns 
all  false  pretence,  and  speaks  her  honest 
mind.  If  sometimes  indiscreet  in  her 
language,  her  heart  is  pure;  she  never 
jests  at  virtue,  though  she  sometimes  has 
a  fling  at  hypocrisy.  Her  laughter  is 
as  refreshing  as  her  tears,  and  her  hu- 
mour is  as  genuine  as  her  tenderness." 
And  with  these  characteristics  has  the 
Scottish  muse  been  transplanted  in  Cana- 
dian soil,  where  it  has  taken  deep  root, 
and  bravely  flourished. 

The  task  of  collecting  and  publishing 
a  truly  Scottish-Canadian  book  of  poems 
and  songs  was  left  to  the  Caledonian 
Society  of  Toronto,  and  the  idea  orig- 
inated with  Dr.  Daniel  Clark,  who  was 
president  of  the  Society  in  1898.  The 
work  of  collection  fell  to  the  writer  of 
this  article,  who  was  then,  and  for  five 
years  subsequently,  secretary-  of  the 
Society.  The  reasons  given  for  under- 
taking the  work  are  set  forth  in  the  pref- 
ace to  the  book  which  was   the  outcome 


of  the  movement,  published  in  igoc* 
It  was  felt  that  ''besides  what  had  al- 
ready been  published  there  was  much 
meritorious  poetry  scattered  throughout 
the  country,  which  had  never  passed 
through  a  printer's  hands,  and  a  desire 
was  expressed  that  all  the  richer  speci- 
mens be  collected  and  printed  in  book 
form,  and  thus  preserved  to  posterity." 
Thus  ran  the  preface,  and  it  clearly  sets 
forth  what  the  Caledonian  Society  had 
in  view  when  the  enterprise  was  entered 
upon.  From  a  financial  standpoint,  the 
book  was  not  a  success;  but  the  critics 
all  spoke  of  it  in  kind  and  exceedingly 
complimentary  terms.  Had  the  sales  of 
the  first  volume  been  sufficiently  encour- 
aging, a  second  volume,  and  probably 
a  third,  would  have  followed.  There 
was  no  lack  of  material. 

Evan  MacCoU,  called  familiarly  the 
"Bard  of  Lochfyne,"  because  born  on 
Lochfyne-side,  Argyllshire,  will  be  best 
known  to  posterity  as  a  Gaelic  poet,  al- 
though many  of  his  English  productions 
are  very  popular,  and  justly  so.  Mac- 
Coll,  like  Burns,  drew  inspiration  for 
his  muse  from  familiar  objects  in  ever\^- 
day  life,  and  whatever  he  touched  he 
turned  into  gold.  The  great  bens  which 
encircled  his  birth-place,  and  the  shady 
glens  lying  between;  the  mountain  tor- 
rent as  it  foamed  and  fretted  on  its  head- 
long career  to  the  ocean;  the  lark  carol- 
ling i'  the  lift,  and  "the  red  heather  hills 
of  the  Highlands"  were  all  illumined  by 
his  genius.  Like  Burns,  too,  MacColl 
sang  the  praises  of  "Woman,  charming 
woman,  O,"  and  many  of  his  most  charm- 
ing songs  are  inspired  by  the  maidens 
whom  he  came  in  contact  with  in  his 
early  life.     Here  is  a  specimen  in  part: 

BONNIE    ISABEL 

Give  fortune's  favoured  sons  to  roam 
However  far  they  please  from  home. 
And  find  their  eventide  delights 
'Mong  Rhenish  groves  or  Alpine  heights; 
But  give  to  nie,  by  Shira's  flow— 
With  none  to  see  and  none  to  know — 
I-ove's  tryst  to  keep,  love's  tale  to  tell, 
And  kiss  my  bonnie  Isabel ! 

*Selections  from  Scottish  Canadian  Poets, 
being  a  collection  of  the  best  poetry  written 
bv  Scotsmen  and  their  descendants  in  the 
Dominion  of  Canada,  \\ith  an  introduction 
by  Dr.  Daniel  Clark.  Printed  by  Imrie, 
Graham  &  Harrap;    320  pp.,  price  SLOO.'  ^ 


SCOTTISH-CANADIAN    1»()K/]RY 


587 


Many  more  songs  follow  on  the  same 
theme:  "The  lass  of  Leven-side,"  "  Jeanie 
Stuart,"  "The  lass  wi'  the  bricht  gowden 
hair,"  "The  lass  of  Glenfyne,"  "Sweet 
Annie  of  Glenara,"  etc.  Those  earlier 
productions  all  prove  how  susceptible 
was  the  poet's  heart  to  the  tender  pas- 
sion. One  of  MacCoU's  favourite  poems, 
"The  child  of  promise,"  has  been  trans- 
lated from  the  author's  Gaelic  by  the 
late  Rev.  Dr.  Buchanan,  ^Methven,  Scot- 
land. Here  are  two  stanzas  of  the  trans- 
lation: 

She  died — as  die  the  roses 

On  the  ruddy  clouds  of  dawn, 

When  the  envious  sun  discloses 
His  flame,  and  morning's  gone. 

She  died — like  waves  of  sun-glow, 
By  fleeting  shadows  chased; 

She  died — hke  heaven's  rainbow, 
By  gushing  showers  effaced. 

MacColl  came  to  Canada  in  1850,  and 
died  in  Toronto  on  July  24th,  1898,  in 
the  ninetieth  year  of  his  -  age.  His  re- 
mains were  interred  in  Cataraqui  Ceme- 
tery, Kingston.  The  poet's  muse  was 
not  dormant  during  his  long  residence 
in  Canada.  On  the  contrary  many  of 
his  finest  poems,  songs  and  sonnets  were 
written  in  the  land  of  his  adoption,  al- 
though it  has  to  be  admitted  that  the 
bard  had  often  recourse  to  his  "mind's 
eye"  in  the  choice  of  a  theme  for  his 
creations.  His  heart  remained  ever  true 
and  loyal  to  his  native  land,  and  to  those 
he  left  behind  in  bonnie  Scotland;  and 
it  is  no  cause  for  wonder,  therefore,  that 
long  after  he  had  settled  in  Canada  he 
continued  to  write  on  scenes  and  sub- 
jects of  other  days,  before  the  exigencies 
of  human  needs  or  aspirations  called 
him  into  exile.  Among  these  later  poems 
may  be  mentioned  two  on  Burns,  sonnets 
descriptive  of  the  scenery  of  Argyllshire, 
"My  own  dear  romantic  countrie,"  and 
a  fine  collection  of  songs,  most  of  which 
have  been  set  to  popular  airs.  The  mar- 
riage of  the  Princess  Louise  and  Lord 
Lome  is  also  sung  in  a  patriotic  strain, 
and  a  satirical  poem,  "  ISIacaulay  versus 
Scotland,"  holds  up  the  historian  to  ridi- 
cule. 

In  writing  on  Canadian  subjects  Mac- 
Coll  exhibits  the  same  beauty  of  style, 
and    varietv    in    expression,     the    same 


poetic  fire,  the  same  descriptive  powers, 
that  characterise  his  earlier  productions 
in  the  midst  of  native  environment. 
His  verses  on  "The  Chaudiere,"  a  well- 
known  scene  on  the  River  Ottawa,  are 
a  fair  sample  of  his  descriptive  work. 
One  verse  will  suffice  for  the  purpose  of 
illustration: 

Where  the  Ottawa  pours  its  magnificent  tide 
Through  forests  primeval,  dark-waving  and 

wide, 
There's    a    scene    which    for    grandeur    has 

scarcely  a  peer, — 
'Tis    the    wild    roaring    rush    of    the    mighty 

Chaudifere. 

The  poet's  susceptibility  to  female 
charms  appears  to  have  broken  out 
afresh  on  Canadian  soil,  as  is  shown  by 
his  tribute  to 

CANADI.\X    GIRLS 

Canadian  girls — the  truth  to  tell — 
Sly  arts  coquettish  practise  well; 
Yet  must  we  own  them  not  the  less 
Unrivalled  in  their  loveliness. 

In  an  article  of  the  dimensions  of  this 
one  it  is  impossible  to  do  justice  to  the 
powerful  and  versatile  genius  of  Mac- 
Coll.  His  works  will  prove  a  lasting 
monument.  Hugh  Miller  dubbed  him 
the  "Moore  of  Highland  Song,"  and  no- 
one  qualified  to  form  a  true  estimate  of 
his  Gaelic  productions  will  dare  dispute 
his  title  to  wear  the  honour. 

Alexander  McLachlan  occupies  a  first 
place  among  Scottish  poets  who  have 
made  Canada  their  home.  Measured 
by  what  may  be  called  the  Burns  stand- 
ard, he  is  almost  the  equal  of  his  great 
prototype;  certainly  he  comes  nearer  to 
the  A\Tshire  bard  than  any  other.  Rev. 
Dr.  I)ewart  in  his  "Selections  from  Ca- 
nadian Poets,"  said  of  McLachlan:  "It 
is  no  empty  laudation  to  call  him  the 
Burns  of  Canada,"  and  nearly  a  quarter 
of  a  century  later  he  expressed  himself 
as  being  still  of  the  same  opinion.  Mac- 
Lachlan's  poems  stamp  the  man  as  a 
born  genius,  possessing  a  lofty  mind 
and  a  pure  heart.  His  poems  are  alike 
inspiring  and  inspiriting,  and  a  perusal 
of  them  cannot  fail  to  do  one  good.  Like 
many  other  poets  before  and  after  him, 
McLachlan  had  no  great  lineage  to 
boast  of.  His  parents  were  not  possessed 
of    worldlv    wealth    and    the    education 


588 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


ALEXANDER  McLACHLAX 

their  offspring  received  was  of  a  some- 
what rudimentary  character.  The  poet's 
budding  genius  early  manifested  itself; 
and  it  is  not  unlikely  that  his  inability 
to  express  his  thoughts  in  suitable  lan- 
jmaa;e  was  the  incentive  that  led  him  to 
seek  to  supplement  the  somewhat  scanty 
education  he  received  when  a  boy.  That 
he  did  improve  himself  is  evidenced  by 
the  literary  style  which  is  everywhere 
shown  in  his  writings.  While  possessed 
of  a  rich  fund  of  humour,  as  his  "Lang- 
Heided  Laddie"  shows,  and  while  he 
sang  of  the  objects  of  nature  around  him 
in  simple,  soulful  numbers,  true  to  life 
as  he  was  accustomed  to  it,  some  of  his 
finest  productions  are  intended  to  lift 
us  above  sublunar)'  things,  and  transport 
us  into  the  unseen.  His  poem  entitled 
"God"  is  a  masterpiece  of  its  kind,  and 
had  he  written  nothing  else  it  would 
have  brought  him'  into  prominence.  Here 
are  two  stanzas: 

God  of  the  great  old  solemn  woods, 
God  of  the  desert  solitudes, 

And  trackless  sea; 
God  of  the  crowded  city  vast, 
God  of  the  present  and  the  past. 

Can  man  know  thee? 


And  shake  the  world's  foundations  deep, 

Till  Nature  groans; 
In  agony  the  mountains  call, 
And  ocean  bellows  throughout  all 

Her  frightened  zones. 

Another  poem  in  the  same  class  re- 
veals a  desire  in  the  heart  of  the  author 
for  a  knowledge  of  the  unseen.  It  is 
entitled  "Mystery,"  and  is  indicative 
of  profound  thought  on  the  mysterious 
in  nature.  It  is  fine  poetry,  but  it  is 
more,  as  may  be  seen  in  even  one  stanza: 

Mystery !    ]Myster3- ! 

All  is  a  mystery. 
Mountain  and  valley,  woodland  and  stream; 

Man's  troubled  history, 

Man's  mortal  destiny, 
Are  but  a  phase  of  the  soul's  troubled  dream. 

Rural  scenery  comes  in  for  a  large 
share  of  the  poet's  attention,  and  he  has 
a  fine  conception  of  the  beauties  of  na- 
ture, as  he  shows  in  such  poems  as 
"Indian  Summer,"  "Far  in  the  Forest 
Glade,"  "The  Maple  Tree,"  "Spring," 
etc.  Things  animate  and  inanimate  alike 
arrest  his  eye,  and  the  murmur  of  the 
brook,  the  warbling  of  the  birds,  the 
rustling  of  the  leaves,  and  the  buds  and 
blossoms  that  gem  the  greensward  and 
bedeck  the  surrounding  trees  all  come  in 


From  out  Thy  wrath  the  earthquakes  leap 


JOHX   IMRIE 


SCOTTISH-CANADIAN    POETRY 


389 


for  a  share  of  his  love,  and  are  painted 
in  the  language  of  a  true  poet.  One  is 
tempted  to  give  examples  of  this  style 
of  the  y)oet's  descriptive  powers,  but  the 
space  I  have  left  must  be  given  to  but 
two  stanzas  of  one  of  ]\IcLachlan's  finest 
and    most  popular  j)oems: 

OI-U    HAXNAH 

'Tis  .Sabbath  morn,  and  a  holy  balm 
Drops  down  on  llic  heart  like  dew — 
And  the  sunbeams  gleam 
Like  a  blessed  dream 
Afar  on  the  moimlains  blue. 
Old  Hannah's  by  her  eollage  door, 
Tn  her  faded  widow's  cajj; 
She  is  sitting  alone 
On  the  old  gray  stone. 
With  the  Bible  in  her  lap. 

An  oak  is  hanging  above  her  head, 
And  the  burn  is  wimpling  by , 

The  primroses  peep 

From  their  sylvan  keep, 
And  the  lark  is  in  the  sky. 
Beneath  that  shade  her  children  played, 
But  they're  all  away  with  Death, 

And  she  sits  alone 

On  that  old  gray  stone 
To  hear  what  the  Spirit  saith. 

Ale.xander  McLachlan  was  born  in 
the  village  of  Johnstone,  Renfrewshire, 
Scotland,  in  the  year  1820,  and  he  died 
on  March  20th,  1896.  He  engaged  in 
farming  in  Canada.  His  farm  was  in 
the  Township  of  Amaranth,  and  among 
his  intimate  friends  he  w-as  called  the 
poet  of  Amaranth.  Farming  did  not 
prosper  well  with  ^IcLachlan,  and  as  a 
consequence  he  had  not  over-much  of 
this  world's  goods.  His  many  friends 
raised  a  sufficient  sum  to  provide  a 
steady  income  for  him  during  the  closing 
years  of  his  simple  life,  which  was  ended 
peacefully  at  the  home  of  his  daughter 
in  Orangeville,  where  his  remains  rest 
under  a  monument  erected  to  his  mem- 
ory by  his  many  admirers. 

In  taking  up  the  poems  of  John  Imrie, 
the  writer  experiences  a  peculiar  pleas- 
ure, inasmuch  as  for  about  thirty  years 
he  was  intimately  associated  with  the 
poet  and  ''lo'ed  him  like  a  vera  brither." 
Imrie's  was  a  kindly  nature.  His  hu- 
manity was  wdde,  tender  and  full  of  sym- 
pathy for  everything  in  nature.  He  was 
eminently  a  poet  of  the  people,  and  he 
was  loved  and  respected  by  his  fellow- 
creatures.     His  poems,  apart  from  their 


merit,  revealed  the  man  in  his  varied 
moods  perfectly.  Although,  perhaps,  his 
muse  did  not  soar  quite  so  high  as  Mc- 
Lachlan's,  yet  he  filled  his  own  niche 
in  the  Temple  of  Fame,  and  he  filled  it 
well.  It  may  truthfully  be  said  that 
Imrie's  poems  are  more  familiarly  known 
around  the  firesides  of  the  Dominion 
than  those  of  any  of  his  compeers.  Five 
editions  of  his  poems  have  been  issued. 
These  facts  furnish  indisputable  evidence 
of  the  popularity  of  the  poet's  works. 
Imrie's  mission,  as  he  declared  it  in  the 
j)reface  to  the  second  edition  of  his 
poems,  was  "  to  please  and  encourage 
the  toiling  masses,"  and  in  this  he  was 
successful  in  a  marked  degree.  His 
zeal  never  flagged,  his  pen  was  ever  busy, 
and  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  he 
had  a  large  business  claiming  much  of 
his  time  and  attention,  he  gave  to  the 
world  an  extensive  and  varied  collection 
of  poems.  He  was  an  enthusiastic  Scot, 
while  still  a  loyal  Canadian,  and  he  di- 
vided his  attention  fairly  between  the 
land  he  left  and  the  land  of  his  adoption. 
His  verses  entitled  ''Scotty"  exemplifv 
at  once  his  modesty  and  his  estimate  of 
the  Scottish  character.  One  here  wall 
serve  to  give  the  key-note: 

Yes!   ca'  me  "Scotty"  if  ye  will, 
For  sic'  a  name  can  mean  nae  ill, 
O'  a'  nick-names  just  tak'  yer  fill, — 
I'm  c]inte  content  wi'  "Scotty." 
*  ^  *  % 

His  verses  entitled  "  Our  Native  Land 
— Fair  Canada,"  have  a  healthy,  hopeful, 
and  patriotic  ring  about  them.  Witness 
the  first: 

God  save  our  native  land, 
Free  m.ay  she  ever  stand, 

Fair  Canada; 
Long  n^ay  we  ever  be 
Sons  of  tiie  brave  and  free, 
Faithful  to  God  and  thee. 

Fair  Canada. 
^  ^  ^  ^ 

Imrie  was  particularly  happy  in  the 
home  circle,  and  many  of  his  popular 
pieces  may  be  described  as  fireside 
lyrics.  He  was  deeply  religious,  and 
many  of  his  compositions  are  of  a  sacred 
character.  His  sonnets,  also,  of  which 
he  wrote  quite  a  number,  are  mostly 
on  sacred  subjects. 

John  Imrie    was  a  native  of  Glasgow. 


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"^^m 


DR.    JOHN    MURDOCH    HARPER 

He  made  his  home  in  Toronto  when  he 
first  came  to  Canada  in  1871,  and  in 
Toronto  he  died  on  the  6th  November, 
1902. 

Dr.  John  Murdoch  Harper,  a  well- 
known  educationist  in  Canada,  Inspector 
of  Superior  Schools  for  the  Province  of 
Quebec,  in  addition  to  many  other  fine 
qualities  of  head  and  heart,  has  distin- 
guished himself  as  a  poet. 

Like  Alexander  McLachlan,  Dr.  Har- 
per first  saw  the  light  in  Johnstone, 
Renfrewshire,  Scotland.  His  education 
was  imparted  first  in  the  parish  school, 
and  afterwards  in  Glasgow  E.C.  Train- 
ing College,  which  he  entered  as  a  Queen's 
student  of  the  first  rank.  After  he  had 
resided  in  Canada  for  some  years,  he 
became  a  graduate  of  Queen's  University, 
and  later  Illinois  University  conferred 
on  him  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Philoso- 
phy. His  writings  were  not  confined 
to  poetr}\  His  ''History  of  the  Lower 
Provinces"  is  a  well-known  text-book. 
In  fiction,  too,  his  name  has  a  place,  and 
he  has  wTitten  a  number  of  sketches 
and  essays  which  have  attracted  atten- 
tion. 

Dr.  Harper's  poetic  works  breathe  out 
a  nobility  of  sentiment   and  a  robustness 


typical  of  the  man.  At  the  same  time 
he  writes  with  a  sweetness  and  tender- 
ness which  stamp  him  as  a  true  poet. 
His  lines  "To  a  Sprig  of  Heather"  are 
cliarmingly  suggestive  of  other  days: 

My  bonnie  spray  o'  pink  and  green, 

That  breathes  the  bloom  o'  Scotia's  Ijraes, 
Your  tiny  blossoms  blink  their  e'en, 

To  gi'e  nie  glimpses  o'  ither  days — 
The  days  when  youth  o'er-ran  the  hills, 

A-daffin'  wi'  the  life  that's  free, 
'Mid  muirland  music,  and  the  rills 

That  sing  their  psalm  o'  liberty.^ 

The  temptation  to  quote  the  other 
verses  of  the  poem  is  strong,  but  one 
stanza  must  suffice. 

Another  dainty  little  poem  attracts 
attention.  It  is  entitled  "Woo'd  and 
\\'ed,"  and  is  a  pretty  conception,  of 
which  any  poet  might  feel  proud.  The 
first  verse  reads: 

The  east  wind  blustered  in  her  ear, 

The  daisy,  shuddering,  drooped  her  head; 
Such  wooing  pinched  her  heart  with  fear, 

She  closed  her  eye  and  said: 
"Xo  lover  true  would  think  to  harm 

A  wee  bit  thing  hke  modest  me; 
I'll  crouch  me  down  and  keep  me  warm 

Till  summer  set  me  free." 

Dr.  Harper's  masterpiece  is  perhaps 
a  group  of  poems  strung  together  under 
the  general  title  of  "Lays  of  Auld  Lang 
Syne."  A  finer  collection  of  Scottish 
poetry  one  would  not  wish  to  read. 

A  poem  of  a  serious  nature,  and  one 
that  has  a  charm  all  its  own,  though 
clothed  in  mournful  words,  is  "The  Old 
Graveyard."  There  is  room  only  for 
two  verses,  and  with  them  this  sketch 
must  close: 

The  summer's  day  is  sinking  fast, 

The  gloaming  weaves  its  pall; 
As  shadows  weird  the  willows  cast, 
Beyond  the  broken  wall; 
And  the  tombstones  gray  like  sentinels  rise, 
To  guard  the  dust  that  'neath  them  lies. 

4:  *  :!:  ^  4: 

Then  silken  silence  miirmurs  rest. 

And  the  peace  that  reigns  supreme 
Seems  but  awaiting  God's  behest, 
To  wake  it  from  its  dream; 
While  yet  it  soothes  the  hearts  that  weep 
Lament  for  those  that  lie  asleep. 

The  name  of  Andrew  Wanless  is  well 
known  throughout  Canada  as  a  poet  and 
a  man.  Mr.  Wanless  began  his  Cana- 
dian career  in  Toronto.  He  was  a  brother 
of  Mr.   John  Wanless,  of  Toronto,  and 


SCOTTISH-CANADIAN    POETRY 


591 


a  native  of  Longformacus,  Berwickshire, 
Scotland,  where  his  father  was  parish 
schoolmaster  for  more  than  fifty  years. 
His  poetry  was  almost  invariably  of  a 
happy,  and  very  often  of  a  decidedly 
humorous  character.  To  those  who 
knew  him  as  intimately  as  did  the  writer, 
this  was  to  be  expected.  A  happier  or 
a  more  cheery  disposition  was  seldom 
met  with,  and  his  poems  were  an  em- 
bodiment of  the  man.  His  popularity 
made  him  welcome,  apart  from  his  poetic 
attainments,  and  much  of  his  time  was 
spent  in  visiting  the  leading  cities  and 
towns  of  the  United  States  and  Canada. 
Mr.  Wanless  had  an  intense  love  and 
veneration  for  his  native  land.  He  was 
decidedly  domestic  in  his  tastes  also, 
tender  in  sentiment,  and  fanciful  in  the 
extreme.  As  already  stated  he  seldom 
wrote  in  gloomy  or  sorrowful  numbers. 
When  he  did  his  muse  responded  in  the 
desired  strain  as  is  shown  in  the  verses 
entitled  ''My  Bonnie  Bairn."  Here  are 
three  stanzas : 

In  my  auld  hame  we  had  a  flower, 
A  bonnie  bairnie  sweet  and  fair; 

There's  no'  a  flower  in  yonder  bower 
That  wi'  my  bairnie  could  compare. 


dr.  daniel  clark,  who  has  done  much  to 
Foster  Scottish  poetry  in  Canada 


ANDREW    WANLESS 

I'll  ne'er  forget  the  tender  smile 
That  flitted  o'er  his  wee  bit  face 

When  death  came  on  his  silent  wing, 
And  clasped  him  in  his  cold  embrace. 

^  :(:  :i:  4:  :f: 

At  midnight's  lone  and  mirky  hour, 
When  wild  the  angry  tempests  rave; 

My  thoughts — they  winna  bide  away — 
Frae  my  ain  bairnie's  wee  bit  grave. 

Mr.  Wanless  w-as  a  prolific  wTiter,  and 
many  of  his  best  pieces  will  live  through 
coming  ages  among  his  countr\-men. 

Robert  Reid,  of  Montreal,  who,  in 
his  younger  days,  loved  to  be  known  as 
"Bob  Wanlock" — so  named  after  the 
place  of  his  birth,  Wanlock,  Dumfries- 
shire. Scotland — is  a  poet  who  ranks 
among  the  best  among  those  sons  of 
Scotland  w^ho  have  found  a  home  in 
this  country.  Brought  up  beside  the 
moors,  his  poems  are  laden  with  the  per- 
fume of  the  heather  and  the  sweet  briar. 
As  a  boy  he  seems  to  have  revelled  in 
the  beauties  of  nature  as  disclosed  on 
his  native  hills.  His  descriptions  of  the 
scenes  in  which  his  youthful  lot  was  cast 
are  admirable.  There  is  a  warmth  of 
tone  and  a  depth  of  feeling  present  in 
all  his  writings  about  Scottish  scenery 
that  have  a  strong  fascination,  especially 
for    the    Scot    abroad.     His    heart     and 


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THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


ROBERT    REIU 

head  are  both  those  of  a  true  poet;  in 
fact,  no  Scottish-American  poet  of  the 
present  generation  has  been  more  highly 
compHmented  than  Robert  Reid. 

A  poem  of  pecuUar  beauty,  and  one 
that  has  attracted  a  great  deal  of  atten- 
tion, is  entitled  "The  Whaup."  Here 
are  the  first  and  two  last  verses: 

Fu'  sweet  is  the  lilt  o'  the  laverock 

Frae  the  rim  o'  the  clud  at  morn ; 
The  merle  pipes  weel  in  his  mid  day  biel', 

In  the  heart  o'  the  bendin'  thorn; 
The  blythe,  l^auld  sang  o'  the  mavis 

Rings  clear  in  the  gloamin'  shaw; 
But  the  whaup's  wild  cry,  in  the  gurly  sky 

O'  the  moorlan',  dings  them  a'. 


What  thochts  o'  the  lang  gray  moorlan' 

Start  up  when  I  hear  that  cry! 
The  times  we  lay  on  the  heathery  brae     '- 

At  the  well,  lang  syne  gane  dry; 
And  aye  as  we  spak'  o'  the  ferlies 

That  happened  afore-time  there, 
The  whaup's  lane  cry  on  the  win'  cam'  by 

Like  a  wild  thing  tint  in  the  air. 

\nd  though  T  ha'e  seen  mair  ferlies 

Than  grew  in  the  fancy  then, 
And  the  gowden  gleam  o'  the  boyish  dream 

Has  slipped  frae  my  soberer  bmin; 
Vet — even  yet — if  I  wander 

Alane  by  the  moorlan'  hill, 
That  queer  wild  cry  frae  the  gurly  sky 

Can  tirl  my  heart  strings  '^till. 

While  eminently  distinguished  for  his 
command  of  the  Doric,  ^Ir.  Reid  is  no 
less  successful  in  his  purely  English  com- 
positions, among  which  might  be  men- 
tioned "Here  and  Hereafter,"  "The 
Poet  and  his  Theme,"  "The  Two  Gates," 
"Looking  Back,"  "Retrospect,"  "Only 
a  Dream,"  and  many  others  which  no 
minor  poet  could  create. 

Mr.  Reid  has  published  two  volumes 
of  poems — "Moorland  Rhymes"  and 
"  Poems,  Songs  and  Sonnets,"  both  of 
which  have  commanded  an  extensive 
sale,  and  have  made  their  author  famous 
at  home  and  abroad. 

To  do  justice  to  Scottish-Canadian 
poetry  in  a  single  article  is  an  impos- 
sibility, as  the  field  is  a  very  large  one. 
There  are  many  writers  of  merit  yet  to 
be  recognised,  and  that  an  effort  may 
be  made  to  include  at  least  the  best  of 
them,  a  second  article  is  in  course  of 
preparation,  and  will  appear  later  in 
The  Canadian  Magazine. 


Professionalism  in  College  Athletics 

By  CYRUS  M  ACM  ILL  AN 

Ex-Secrctary  Canadian  Intercollegiate  Athletic  League;  ex-Captain 
McGill  University  Track  Team 


An  insider's  dean-breasted  criticism  of  Canadian  college  sport 
compared  ivith  conditions  in  the  United  States 


THLETIC  sports  in  Canada 
to-day  are  largely  in  a  con- 
dition of  chaos.  The  old 
line  of  demarkation  between 
professional  and  amateur 
threatens  to  disappear.  There  is  a  grow- 
ing tendency  to  look  upon  athletics  as  a 
business  rather  than  a  recreation,  and  the 
spirit  of  play  seems  to  be  slowly  but 
surely  passing  out  of  sport.  We  prefer 
to-day  to  watch  paid  men  struggling  in  a 
contest,  rather  than  to  get  into  the  game 
ourselves.  This  demand  on  the  part  of 
spectators  for  what  is  termed  "exciting" 
sport,  coupled  with  the  ignoble  desire  to 
win  at  any  cost  on  the  part  of  teams  and 
individuals,  has  gradually  wrought  a 
disastrous  change  in  Canadian  athletics. 
There  are  to-day  widespread  and  sweep- 
ing accusations  against  various  athletic 
clubs;  there  are  suggestions  of  athletic 
graft,  and  stories  of  hired  help,  engaged 
for  the  sole  purpose  of  winning  trophies 
and  not  for  the  benefit  of  sport.  There 
are  disclosures  which  are  not  creditable 
to  amateur  organisations;  there  is  sus- 
picion that  some  of  our  most  prominent 
clubs  are  honeycombed  by  professionalism, 
and  that  some  of  our  most  prominent 
athletes  are  salaried  players  rather  than 
pure  amateurs  of  the  old  school.  The 
result  is  that  those  in  authority  are  con- 
sidering the  wiping  out  of  the  line  which 
formerly  divided  those  who  are  in  ath- 
letics for  the  love  of  money  from  those 
who  are  in  them  for  the  love  of  sport. 
The  contention  is  that  the  old  rules  en- 
courage hypocrisy  and  cheating,  and  that 
by  allowing  tlie  athletic  sheep  and  the 
athletic  goats  henceforth  to  romp  to- 
gether in  the  same  field  without  fear  of 
criticism,  without  dread  of  a  disclosure — 
which  can  then  mean  nothing — there  will 

8—593 


be  greater  purity  and  greater  honesty 
in  our  national  games;  in  short  it  is 
argued  that  by  this  so-called  levelling 
process  sport  will  in  future  flourish  in 
Canada  to  a  greater  degree  than  it  has  in 
the  past,  and  that  in  the  athletic  world 
there  will  then  be  a  minimum  of  friction. 
But  the  lover  of  sport  for  sport's  sake 
cannot  take  kindly  to  this  attitude;  he 
believes  that  a  professional  and  an  ama- 
teur must  of  necessity  play  an  uneven 
game;  he  insists  that  it  will  eventually 
wipe  out  completely  amateur  sport,  and 
that  the  man  who  plays  for  fun  or  for 
recreation  will  no  longer  enter  a  contest. 
The  end  of  this  so-called  "reform"  move- 
ment is  therefore  yet  in  doubt. 

This  present  day  movement  is  one  that 
applies  almost  exclusively  to  city  clubs; 
it  has  yet  little  to  do  directly  with  college 
athletics.  It  is  well  that  the  two  should 
be  kept  distinct,  and  that  the  latter  at 
least  be  kept  clean,  and  strictly  amateur. 
The  authorities  in  Canadian  athletics 
are  evidently  content — and  rightly  so — to 
leave  the  government  of  college  athletics 
largely  to  the  colleges  themselves.  The 
Canadian  Amateur  Athletic  Association 
in  Ontario  and  Quebec,  and  the  Maritime 
Provinces  Association  in  the  Eastern 
Provinces,  have  the  general  supervision 
of  all  Canadian  athletics;  with  the  draw- 
ing up  of  eligibility  rules,  other  than  the 
general  laws  to  which  all  colleges  must 
adhere,  they  have  absolutely  nothing  to 
do.  But  in  college  athletics  to-day,  there 
is  need  for  a  reformation,  and  for  stricter 
supervision — a  need  just  as  great  as  that 
which  exists  in  clubs  outside  of  college 
halls.  The  oversight  of  athletics  by  col- 
lege faculties  to-day  amounts  practically 
to  nothing.  The  recent  burlesque  in  the 
Intercollegiate     Football     League     is     a 


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THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


somewhat  pathetic  proof  that  the  over- 
sight— if  any  does  exist — comes  after  the 
games  are  played  and  not  before  the  teams 
go  upon  the  field.  It  shows  further  that 
college  teams  cannot  always  depend  on 
the  judgment  or  the  honour  of  opponents 
in  a  question  of  players'  eligibility,  and  it 
proves  that  strict  faculty  supervision  is 
the  only  safeguard  against  dishonesty.  It 
emphasises  the  need  of  the  faculty  certif- 
icate method  in  deciding  a  man's  eligibil- 
ity before  a  contest.  This  method  is 
termed  sarcastically  "Faculty  Chaper- 
onage,"  but  it  is  a  "  chaperonage "  that 
prevents  wrongdoing,  and  is  therefore  to  be 
commended  rather  than  despised. 

The  eligibility  system  followed  in  the 
majority  of  American  colleges  seems  much 
superior  to  ours,  despite  our  self-compla- 
cent notions  about  the  purity  of  our  own 
sport.  The  rules  governing  the  various 
contests  between  Harvard  and  Yale — or 
indeed  among  all  the  leading  universities 
— are  a  good  example  which  v.e  might 
well  follow,  if  we  are  to  keep  our  college 
sports  up  to  a  pure  standard.  For  the 
good  of  sport  a  distinction  is  ordinarily 
made  between  the  professional  and  the 
amateur.  The  former  is  in  sport  for  the 
purpose  of  making  a  living  or  assisting 
towards  that  end — at  least  for  a  money 
reward;  the  latter  is  in  sport  for  the  mere 
love  of  it — for  exercise  or  recreation.  This 
distinction  holds  good  to  a  certain  extent 
even  where  there  is  no  question  of  money 
remuneration.  For  there  are  in  colleges 
forms  of  professionalism  other  than  those 
connected  with  hire.  The  student  who  is 
a  regular  attend  nt  in  classes,  who  works 
well,  whose  examination  results  are 
always  creditable,  who  always  passes 
from  year  to  year  without  too  many 
"plucks"  or  supplemental  examinations, 
who  graduates  in  the  required  time,  and 
who  at  the  same  time  takes  part  in 
athletics  for  exercise,  recreation,  or  per- 
haps the  glory  of  his  class  or  college,  such 
a  man  is  undoubtedly  a  student  amateur 
in  the  purest  sense  of  the  term.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  man  of  means,  or  perhaps 
the  man  of  leisure,  who  is  in  college  ap- 
parently for  sport,  who  is  not  regular  in 
his  attendance,  who  rarely  takes  an 
examination,  or  if  he  does,  fails  oftener 
than  he  succeeds,  who  spends  from  five 


to  seven  years  to  complete  a  four  years' 
course,  and  who,  during  all  this  time  repre- 
sents his  college  on  different  athletic 
teams — such  a  student  is  clearly  in  one 
sense  of  the  term  a  professional  even  if  he 
does  not  receive  a  wage.  For  sport  is  the 
main  business  of  his  life;  sport  is  evidently 
the  object  for  which  he  is  in  college;  study 
with  him  is  secondary.  His  aim  is  to  be, 
first,  an  athlete — then  a  student  even  in 
a  very  doubtful  sense  of  the  term.  If  the 
latter  is  a  handicap  to  the  former,  the 
latter  is  sacrificed. 

With  his  classmate,  the  working  student, 
on  the  other  hand,  study  is  the  chief  end; 
sport  is  secondary.  The  business  of  the 
one  student  is  only  the  recreation,  the 
diversion  of  the  other.  When  these  two 
types  of  men  are  pitted  against  each  other 
in  a  contest,  or  when  teams,  composed, 
one  of  the  first  type,  and  one  of  the  second, 
play  against  each  other,  the  result  is  clear- 
ly an  uneven  game;  the  odds  are  in  favour 
of  the  professional,  and  the  outcome  is 
a  travesty  on  the  purity  of  college  sport. 
Hence,  the  American  colleges  have  taken 
the  lead  in  dealing  with  such  conditions; 
they  have  made  a  determined  effort — 
followed  by  a  fair  success — to  weed  out 
absolutely  the  loafing  student  athlete. 

In  the  leading  American  colleges,  the 
man  who  takes  part  in  athletics  must  be  a 
student  in  the  strictest  sense  of  the  term. 
Training  for  an  athletic  team  means  first 
a  training  in  one's  studies;  good  scholar- 
ship comes  first,  then  good  abihty  on  track 
or  field.  In  the  class-room,  a  student  is 
almost  daily  compelled  by  tne  method 
employed  to  give  evidence  of  his  attitude 
towards  his  work,  and  of  his  home  prepar- 
ation— his  attention  or  his  neglect.  A 
high-class  standard  is  applied  wnth  search- 
ing effect  to  all  departments  of  athletics. 
Further,  reports  of  the  students'  work  are 
frequently  submitted  to  the  faculty  secre- 
tary's office,  and  a  student  who  fails  to 
make  a  creditable  grade  or  who  is  "  pluck- 
ed" in  a  stated  number  of  examinations 
is  placed  by  the  faculty  on  what  is  termed 
"probation."  Until  lie  ha^  worked  him- 
self off  "probation"  by  making  better 
grades,  and  thus  redeeming  his  reputa- 
tion as  a  student,  he  is  not  allowed  to 
represent  his  class  or  college  on  any 
athletic  team;  he  is  not  permitted  to  take 


PROFESSIONALISM   IN    COLLEGE   ATHLETICS 


595 


part  in  any  branch  of  student  activity, 
and  frequently  some  of  the  most  promising 
athletes  are  dropped  from  squads  or  teams 
because  of  deficient  scholarship  or  a  lack 
of  progress  in  class  work.  Before  a 
contest,  the  manager  of  a  team  submits 
the  names  of  his  players  to  the  secretary 
of  the  faculty,  and  it  is  not  uncommon  to 
have  a  man  removed  from  a  team  by  the 
secretary  at  the  last  moment  because  of 
this  stringent  system.  There  have  been 
recently  even  cases  in  which,  when  a 
team  had  left  its  college  on  Friday,  before 
weekly  reports  or  results  of  examinations 
had  come  in,  to  play  on  an  opposing 
college's  grounds,  the  faculty  secretary 
telegraphed  the  manager  just  before  the 
game  not  to  let  certain  men  play,  because 
the  reports  of  their  work,  which  had  since 
come  in,  indicated  failure  in  their  studies. 
The  first  caution  a  candidate  for  a  team 
receives  is  to  keep  up  in  his  class  work 
and  to  keep  off  probation.  Again,  a 
student  who  has  to  repeat  his  year's  work 
because  of  insufficient  progress  is  not 
eligible  for  an  athletic  team,  it  matters  not 
how  excellent  that  repealed  year's  work 
may  be.  Only  bona  fide,  regular,  matric- 
ulated students  are  eligible,  and  all 
"special"  students  are  barred.  Thus 
the  loafing  student  athlete — the  man  who 
is  in  college  for  sport  rather  than  for  study 
— has  no  chance  to  win  a  place  on  the 
leading  American  college  teams. 

The  rules  governing  length  of  time 
during  which  a  student  is  eligible  are 
equally  strict.  Three  years  is  the  maxi- 
mum period  of  a  student's  connection  with 
college  sport,  and  a  student  who  has  for 
three  years  represented  on  athletic  teams 
any  recognised  college  or  colleges  is  no 
longer  allowed  to  compete  for  the  larger 
American  universities.  This  means,  for 
example,  that  if  the  sum  total  of  the 
time  during  which  a  student  has  repre- 
sented colleges — Canadian  or  American — 
in  athletics  amounts  to  two  years,  he  is 
eligible  only  one  year  at  another  university 
should  he  enter  one  of  its  departments, 
and  then  his  eligibility  ceases.  Further, 
all  freshmen  are  barred  from  competition, 
and  a  man  must  have  been  in  attendance 
one  full  year  before  he  can  become  a 
candidate  for  any  athletic  team.  The 
advantages  of  such  a  system  are  obvious. 


The  one  year's  residence  clause  largely 
prevents  proselyting  or  the  attempt  of  one 
university  to  entice  an  athlete  from  a 
rival  college,  or  to  influence  a  promising 
preparatory  school  boy  to  enter  one  of  its 
departments.  It  causes  greater  .fairness 
and  greater  equality  in  the  candidature  of 
men  for  positions  on  teams;  it  compels 
the  student  to  view  athiletics  as  the  secf)nd- 
ary,  rather  than  as  the  main,  business  of 
his  college  course;  it  shuts  out  the  student 
who  seeks  in  college  merely  athletic  glory; 
it  justifies  the  end  for  which  all  college 
athletics  should  exist,  the  developing  of 
the  strong,  vigorous  body  for  the  alert, 
active  mind.  It  stimulates  the  athletic 
aspirant  to  do  his  very  best  work  in  class; 
for  the  dropping  from  an  athletic  team 
because  of  inferior  scholarship  of  a  man 
who  is  necessary  to  the  success  of  that 
team  means  disloyalty  and  dishonour,  and 
the  position  of  the  man  who  is  too  larry 
to  do  conscientious  study  for  the  athletic 
glory  of  his  college  is  indeed  not  an  en- 
viable one. 

Such  rules  as  these  we  unfortunately 
lack  in  our  Canadian  colleges.  There  is 
a  code  of  laws  governing  hockey  and 
football  and  track  sports  in  the  inter- 
collegiate league,  but  it  is  more  or  less 
elastic  and  is  at  times  adjustable  to  suit 
circumstances.  There  is,  after  all,  little 
faculty  supervision;  a  student's  qualifica- 
tion from  the  standpoint  of  scholarship 
is  rarely  called  into  qviestion;  if  he  has 
enrolled,  has  paid  his  fees,  and  attends 
classes,  his  standing  is  silently  accepted. 
Instead  of  the  strict  oversight  or  investi- 
gation before  the  contest,  the  protest 
comes  after  the  games  are  over.  While 
some  faculties  make  an  attempt  at  super- 
vision, it  is  nevertheless  true  that  in  all 
the  Canadian  colleges  the  eligibility  rules 
are  ridiculously  lax.  The  fact  that  a 
student  does  not  pass  his  examinations  or 
does  discreditable  work  in  his  daily 
classes  or  is  irregular  in  his  attendance  is 
not  an  obstacle  in  his  athletic  career. 
Students  who  have  to  repeat  their  year  or 
who  fail  in  one  department,  say,  arts, 
and  then  enter  another,  say,  science  or 
medicine — all  these  are  allowed  to  go  on 
competing  on  athletic  teams  as  if  they  had 
made  an  excellent  showing  the  year  before, 
and  had  been  students  in  the  real  sense. 


596 


THE   CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


There  were  examples  of  this  type  on  college 
track  and  football  teams  during  the 
present  year.  Again,  a  student  who  has 
made  a  reputation  as  an  athlete  at  one 
university  may  enter  another  to  complete 
his  course,  and  at  the  latter  college  still 
be  eligible  for  an  athletic  team  during  his 
first  year  of  residence?  A  student,  too, 
while  attending  college  is  allowed  to  play 
on  a  city  team  without  any  question  by 
the  faculty  as  to  its  propriety.  Hockey 
clubs  in  the  university  towns  to-day 
furnish  many  examples  of  this  latter 
method. 

There  has  been  in  the  past  practically 
no  limit  to  the  length  of  time  a  student  is 
eligible  for  an  athletic  team.  A  great 
Queen's  University  hockey  player  of 
former  days  states  that  he  played  on  his 
college  team  ten  years.  A  Queen's  foot- 
ball player  who  has  recently  been  very- 
prominent  in  Canadian  championship 
football,  played  on  his  college  team 
nearly  as  long.  It  is  not  stated  how 
many  examinations  these  men  passed, 
or  whether  their  scholarship,  during  their 
period  of  competition,  was  always  up  to 
the  standard.  These  are  perhaps  ex- 
treme instances,  but  similar  cases  are  com- 
mon to-day.  At  Toronto  University  there 
have  been  vague  charges  last  season  and 
during  the  present  year,  against  men  who 
it  was  said  had  played  longer  than  the 
four  years  in  which  they  should  have 
completed  their  courses.  There  are  other 
accusations  against  the  standing  of  prom- 
inent athletes  at  the  same  university — 
one,  a  noted  pole-vaulter — whose  scholas- 
tic attainments  are  said  to  be  scarcely  on 
a  par  with  their  athletic  prowess.  At 
McGill  University,  in  the  past,  conditions 
have  been  equally  bad,  and  several  in- 
stances could  be  given  of  violations  of  the 
spirit  of  college  sport.  Only  a  few  years 
ago  a  noted  football  player — at  least  at 
that  time — played  one  or  two  games  for 
McGill  at  the  beginning  of  the  season; 
then,  after  a  few  weeks'  residence  in 
Montreal,  for  some  reason  not  stated,  he 
wandered  to  Kingston,  and  at  the  end  of 
the  season  he  was  playing  with  Queen's 
where  he  had  enrolled  as  a  student.  To 
the  ordinary  person,  this  man  was  a 
student  because  of  his  connection  with 
the  universitv;    to  those  who  understood, 


he  was  little  more  than  an  itinerant  foot- 
ball player.     In  this  case  both  colleges 
were  to  blame,  for  each  lacked  a  rule  that 
a  man  who  had  competed  for  one  college, 
must  be  in  residence  one  full  year  at  a 
second  college,   should  he  move,  before 
he  could  become  a  candidate  for  a  team. 
A  somewhat  similar  case  not  many  years 
ago,  was  that  of  a  noted  football  "wing" 
playing  on  the  champion  Ottawa  College 
team  while  attending  medical  classes  at 
McGill.     Four  or  five  years  ago,  McGill 
had  an  exceptionally  brilliant  full  back 
on  its  football  team;  he  attended  for  a  few 
weeks,  then  he  suddenly  disappeared;  no 
one  in  athletic  authority  seemed  to  know 
where  he  came  from  or  where  he  went — 
whether  he  ever  matriculated  or  attended 
a   class.     Last    season    there    were    men 
playing    on    city    football    and    hockey 
teams   while   attending  college;   some  of 
them  went  with  these  clubs  because  they 
failed  to  win  a  place  on  the  college  senior 
team,  and  refused  to  play  in  intermediate 
ranks.  This  season  again  there  are  students 
playing  on  city  hockey  clubs,  yet  the  col- 
lege athletic  authorities  do  not  question  its 
propriety.     On  last  year's  teams,  too,  in 
the  Canadian  colleges  there  were  men — 
at  least  one  or  two  noted  examples — who 
had  been  in  college  longer  than  the  time 
ordinarily    required  for  graduation,    but 
whose   lack    of   progress   did   not   debar 
them  from  athletics;   on  this  year's  teams, 
again,  there  are  men  whose  records  last 
year  would  scarcely  pass  as  those  of  the 
ordinarily  successful   student.     Instances 
could  be  multiplied  at  these  three  leading 
colleges  of  athletes   who  in  the  strictest 
sense  are  not  students — men  who  judged 
by  their  class  attendance  and  examination 
results  are  in  college  mainly  for    sport 
and  who  are  therefore  in  a  sense  profes- 
sionals— men    who    fail    in    their    term's 
work,  and  who  take  six  or  seven  years  to 
get  a  degree,  if  they  get  it  even  then,  but 
who  during  all  these  years,  notwithstand- 
ing    their     scholastic     deficiencies,      are 
allowed    to    represent    their    college    on 
athletic  teams. 

Down  in  the  Maritime  Provinces,  with 
its  number  of  small  colleges,  conditions  are 
even  worse  than  in  the  larger  Canadian 
institutions.  The  Eastern  colleges  in 
comparing  their  athletic  system  with  that 


PROFESSIONALISM    IN    COLLEGE    ATHLETICS 


.vr, 


of  the  Upper  Canadian  colleges,  assume 
a  "holier  than  thou"  attitude,  but  their 
methods  are  nevertheless  even  more  open 
to  criticism  than  those  of  the  larger  insti- 
tutions. Here  there  is  an  Intercollegiate 
League,  composed  of  the  University  of 
New  Brunswick  and  Mount  Allison  in 
New  Brunswick,  and  Acadia  College  in 
Nova  Scotia.  But  there  is  no  well-defined 
system  of  eligibility  rules,  and  in  order  to 
win  a  place  on  a  track  or  a  football  or  a 
hockey  team,  the  only  stajidard  apart  from 
athletic  ability  seems  to  be  the  payment 
of  one's  fees  and  attendance  on  three 
classes — or  at  least  suppositional  attend- 
ance; one  need  not  be  a  regular  under- 
graduate, taking  a  full  course;  and  even 
matriculation  is  a  more  or  less  doubtful 
test.  There  is  apparently  no  limit  to  the 
length  of  time  a  student  can  represent 
his  college,  if  he  is  still  in  attendance. 
Nor  does  failure  in  one's  term  examinations 
mean  an  athletic  ban;  several  instances 
could  be  given  of  men  who  have  been 
dropped  because  of  failure  to  a  lower  class, 
and  who  have  consequently  not  taken 
their  degree  in  the  ordinary  required 
time,  but  who  nevertheless  are  still  prom- 
inent in  college  sport.  Again,  in  connec- 
tion with  Acadia  and  Mount  Allison, 
there  are  academies  or  preparatory  schools. 
Sometimes  an  arrangement  is  made  by  a 
shrewd  captain  to  have  an  academy  boy, 
if  he  is  a  good  athlete,  attend  classes  in  the 
college.  How  he  can  be  a  college  under- 
graduate in  the  strict  sense  and  still  a 
preparatory  school  boy  is  not  explained; 
but  it  sometimes  happens  that  a  student 
plays  throughout  the  season  on  both  the 
academy  and  the  college  teams.  It 
would  be  interesting  to  know  from  the 
athletic  authorities  just  to  which  institu- 
tion such  a  boy  belongs,  if  in  the  real 
spirit  of  college  sport  he  belongs  to  either. 
At  Dalhousie  University,  the  greatest 
of  the  Maritime  colleges,  it  is  no  secret 
that  non-students  and  graduates  of  long 
standing  are  welcomed  to  athletic  teams; 
and  that  bona  fide  students  who  do  their 
best  in  practice  and  are  ready  to  do  their 
best  in  matches,  if  given  the  opportunity, 
are  relegated  to  the  side  lines  or  the  prom- 
enade to  make  room  for  the  more  expert 
player,  who,  however,  from  the  stand- 
point of  attendance,  is  no  longer  a  college 


man.  Not  many  weeks  ago  a  jirominent 
Dalhousie  football  player  moved  from 
Halifax  to  a  Southern  State;  college  men 
referred  regretfully  and  unblushingly  to 
the  loss  his  college  had  sustained,  as  he 
had  played  on  the  football  team  con- 
tinuously for  eight  years,  and  his  place 
would  be  hard  to  fill.  The  suggestion 
was  clear  that  had  he  remained  within 
travelling  distance  of  his  university,  he 
would  have  continued  to  represent  it  on 
athletic  teams.  There  are  numerous 
instances  again  of  graduates  of  long 
standing  who  year  after  year  turn  out  with 
their  old  college  team  and  play  through- 
out the  season.  On  the  1906  football 
team  there  were  two  such  examples.  In 
all  the  Maritime  colleges — particularly  the 
smaller  ones — the  football  and  hockey 
teams  at  times  include  men  who  have 
never  spent  more  than  a  few  weeks  in  the 
college  halls,  men  who  have  never 
passed  matriculation,  and  even  men  who 
but  rarely  attend  a  college  class. 

It  is  obvious  that  such  a  lax  system  is 
wrong.  It  is  not  in  keeping  with  the  spirit 
of  college  sport;  it  is  not  college  sport  at 
all;  it  is  raising  athletics  to  a  college 
business  rather  than  lowering  them  to  a 
college  recreation;  it  is  manifestly  un- 
fair to  the  real  student,  who  while  he  does 
his  college  work  well  puts  forth  an 
honest  effort  to  "make"  his  college  team. 
It  would  be  folly,  too,  to  argue  that  if  such 
conditions  exist  in  Canadian  colleges  it  is 
because  the  faculties  are  not  aware  of 
them.  Such  conditions  in  most  colleges 
do  not  exist  contrary  to  the  wishes  of  the 
faculty,  but  have  their  apparent  consent, 
or  at  any  rate  their  silent  approval.  Last 
spring  at  a  meeting  of  Dalhousie  students 
an  effort  was  made  to  pass  a  law  forbid- 
ding the  playing  on  any  team  of  a  man  not 
a  bona  fide  student;  the  idea  was  that 
henceforth  the  college  place  in  the  field 
only  strictly  student  teams.  But  when  the 
motion  was  put  to  the  meeting,  a  profes- 
sor spoke  so  strongly  against  it,  arguing 
the  advertisement  to  the  college  of  a 
victorious  organisation,  and  the  possibility 
of  not  winning  with  a  solely  student 
team,  that  the  motion  was  lost.  This  is 
but  one  illustration  of  the  irony  of  college 
"sport"  in  Canada  to-day.  It  is  an  ex- 
ample of  the  idea  too  frequently  followed : 


598 


THE   CANADIAN   IVIAGAZINE 


"We  will  win  w'ith  students  if  we  can, 
but  we  will  win  anyway."  Such  an  idea 
is  surely  not  in  the  best  interests  of  college 
athletics.  Unfortunately  too  many  Can- 
adian colleges  fail  to  insist  with  reference 
to  the  athletics  that  a  candidate  for  a 
team  must  first  be  a  student  in  the  real 
sense,  that  this  is  the  business  for  which 
he  is  in  college,  and  that  in  this  business 
he  must  make  reasonable  progress  ;  then, 
but  always  as  a  secondary  consideration, 
that  he  be  an  athlete,  if  he  can.  If  this 
were  emphasised  there  would  be  greater 
fairness  in  college  sport,  and  college 
athletics  would  be  in  no  danger  of  falling 
to  the  level  of  city  clubs  in  their  profes- 
sionalism. 

There  can  be  no  question,  however, 
that  the  Canadian  college  athlete  is  singu- 
larly free  from  financial  graft.  He  re- 
ceives no  wage  for  his  services;  in  fact  in 
the  majority  of  cases  his  athletic  career 
is  a  cause  of  expense  rather  than  a 
source  of  revenue;  from  the  money 
standpoint  he  is  an  amateur  in  the 
strictest  sense.  Nor  have  college  athletics 
in  their  spirit  of  rivalry  yet  run  to  ex- 
tremes in  Canada  as  they  have  in  the 
United  States.  But  from  the  standpoint 
of  scholarship,  the  Canadian  college 
athlete  is  not  always  a  pure  amateur;  he 
is  too  frequently  one  who  while  he  pursues 
athletics,  not  as  a  paying  profession, 
nevertheless  looks  upon  it  as  a  business 
and  has  neither  time  nor  inclination  for 
study;  so  far  he  is  a  "professional,"  and 
not  a  student  amateur  in  the  real  meaning 
of  the  term.  There  are  of  course  many 
notable  exceptions.  What  is  needed  in 
Canadian  college  athletics  to-day,  in 
order  to  keep  them  pure,  is  stricter 
faculty  supervision  of  all  sports.  Such  a 
superv^ision  might  well  insist  on  the 
athlete's  matriculation;  it  might  also 
insist  on  one  year's  residence  before  com- 
petition— a  rule  which  would  prevent  one 
university  from  attempting  to  secure  a 
man  who  had  made  a  good  athletic  reputa- 
tion at  a  rival  institution;  it  might  prohibit 
students  during  their  college  course  from 
playing  on  outside  teams;  it  might  include 


a  scholarship  standard  of  eligibility;  it 
might  insist  on  the  passing  of  their  ex- 
aminations and  the  keeping  up  with  their 
classes  by  all  candidates  for  athletic  teams; 
it  might  include  also  a  three  or  a  four 
years'  rule,  so  that  a  man  could  not  spend 
eight  years  at  college  and  compete  during 
all  that  time,  thus  making  inequality  in 
competition;  it  might  bar  the  "special" 
student,  who  also  because  of  his  few 
courses  has  an  unequal  chance,  and  a 
more  or  less  suspicious  claim  to  athletic 
recognition;  and  it  might  finally  leave 
the  decision  as  to  players'  eligibility — 
always  before  the  contest — to  the  secre- 
tary of  the  College  Faculty,  or  Faculty 
Athletic  Committee,  the  eligibility  to  be 
determined  by  the  rules  of  the  governing 
body  of  the  college  to  which  the  player 
belongs.  Such  a  system  would  mean  in 
college  sport  greater  equality — the  very 
aim  which  first  caused  the  college  foot- 
ball teams  to  withdraw  from  the  Quebec 
and  the  Ontario  leagues  and  form  a 
league  of  their  own,  but  an  aim  which 
their  own  lax  rules  are  tending  to  defeat. 
It  would  be  ridiculed  perhaps  as  "chap- 
eronage,"  but  it  would  result  in  keeping 
college  athletics  up  to  a  high  standard  of 
purity.  If  college  sports  in  Canada  are 
to  go  on — as  they  are  bound  to  do — and 
to  increase  in  rivalry,  in  importance,  and 
in  popularity,  it  is  better  that  they  should 
go  on  under  discreet  faculty  committees, 
than  that  students  and  coaches  should  be 
allowed  in  their  zeal  to  carry  them  to 
extreme  lengths.  This  would  not  mean 
that  the  sports  would  run  the  colleges, 
instead  of  the  colleges  running  the  sports; 
but  it  would  place  the  regulation  of 
college  athletics  high  up  among  the 
duties  of  college  authorities.  For  the 
sports  are  worth  it;  they  are  as  necessary 
a  factor  in  the  life  of  a  college  as  in  the 
life  of  a  nation.  The  prevailing  opinion — 
and  one  that  is  likely  to  continue — is  that 
college  sports  are  wholesome.  The  pre- 
vailing desire  should  be  that,  whatever 
may  happen  to  Canadian  club  athletics, 
Canadian  college  sports,  at  least,  be  kept 
clean. 


Larraby's  Lope 

By  PEREGRINE  AC  LAND 


Telling  of  a  cow-puncher's  stratagem,  pitted  against  sheriff 
and  deputies,  and  the  outcome 


QUATTING  on  the  ground 
in  the  cook-tent,  eating  their 
supper,  were  a  dozen  cow- 
punchers.  By  the  .stove  stood 
the  cook,  at  that  moment 
addie^^sing  one  of  the  men,  differing  httle 
in  appearance  from  the  others,  but  seem- 
ingly a  centre  of  interest.  In  reply  to  the 
cook's  inquiry  he  said: 

"No,  I  won't  git.  I  killed  the  man  in  a 
square  fight,  and  so  far  the  sheriff's  never 
bothered  anybody  fur  doin'  that.  He  had 
his  hand  on  his  gun  first,  too,  and  if  I 
hadn't  been  purty  quick,  I'd  hev  been  the 
cartridge  pouch,  'stead  of  him.  Besides, 
if  they  were  so  blame  anxious  to  git  me, 
Ihey  could  have  done  it  last  night.  I  was 
in  the  *  Mexican '  for  an  hour  more  before 
I  rode  back  here." 

"Wal,  I'd  advise  yuh  to  be  scarce  fur  a 
bit,  I.arry,"  said  the  foreman.  "Them 
excuses  'ud  go  all  right  enough  most  times, 
but  this  man  was  the  sheriff's  cousin,  and 
though  us  boys  is  mighty  grateful  to  yuh 
for  ridding  the  country  of  the  cuss,  that 
chuck- headed  fool  '11  jest  be  glad  to 
jump  on  anybody  who's  been  shootin' 
spots  off  his  family  record." 

"Wai,  I'm  goin'  to  stay  right  here,  and 
if  thev  want  me  they  kin  take  me,  or  least- 
ways they  kin  try,  fur  if  they  do  come, 
I've  no  objection  to  makin'  tracks,"  said 
Larry.  "And  don't  you  worry  none 
about  me,  'cos  I'm  not  goin'  to  do  any 
fretting." 

"All  right,  Larr}-,"  said  the  foreman, 
"but  I  think  you're  plumb  foolish.  Re- 
member your  turn  on  herd  with  Steve's  in 
the  last  shift.  I'm  going  out  for  my  tuni 
now." 

Larry  and  Steve  were  riding  easily 
around  the  herd.  It  was  quiet  and  they 
were  having  little  trouble.  Most  of  the 
cattle  were  hang  down,  and  the  rem^ainder 

599 


were  grazing  sleepily.  Overhead  the 
stars  were  shining  brightly,  and  the  riders 
shivered  occasionally  from  the  cold. 

For  an  hour  they  rode  thus,  but  at  last 
there  was  a  faint  white  suggestion  of 
dawn  in  the  otherwise  black  sky,  for  as 
day  approached  the  light  of  the  stars 
waned  until  only  a  few^  of  the  largest  were 
visible. 

The  men  counter-circled  round  the 
herd  again  and  again.  They  were  grow- 
ing hungry  now.  However,  the  others 
would  soon  be  at  breakfast,  and  then  they 
would  be  relieved. 

Larry  had  just  left  Steve  after  one  of 
their  encounters,  when  the  latter  perceived 
three  men  riding  towards  him  out  of  the 
encirchng  gloom.  In  a  moment  the  fore- 
most had  reached  him,  and  seizing  him  by 
the  arm,  while  his  companions  covered 
the  bevv-ildered  cow-boy  with  their  guns, 
said: 

"I  arrest  you,  WiUiam  Larraby,  on  the 
charge  of  having  killed  John  Malburn — " 

"  Wait  a  bit,  joe,"  said  Steve.  "  You've 
got  the  wrong  man  this  time." 

"To  h— 1  with  it  all!"  exclaimed  the 
sheriff.  "Sorry  I  made  the  mistake, 
Steve;  couldn't  make  you  out  in  the  dark. 
Guess  we'll  jest  hev  to  trot  round  to  the 
other  side  of  the  herd  for  Larraby." 

The  moment  they  had  left  him,  Steve 
rose  in  his  stirrups  and  waved  and  whistled 
to  Larry.  Barely  had  the  latter  perceived 
the  signalling  arm  in  the  semi-twiUght, 
before  he  found  himself  surrovmded  by 
the  sheriflf  and  his  deputies. 

With  a  ctu"se  he  drove  the  spurs  into  his 
horse  and  dashed  into  one  of  the  men, 
hurhng  him  and  his  horse  violently  to  the 
ground.  The  others  pulled  their  guns, 
but  he  slashed  them  viciously,  again  and 
again,  letting  his  hea\n,'  quirt  descend  full 
upon  their  unprotected  faces  and  moment- 
arily blinding  them.     Taking  advantage 


600 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


of    the    opportunity    he    had    made,    he 
started  his  horse  at  a  dead  lope. 

If  he  could  get  to  his  shack,  six  miles  off, 
he  could  make  some  kind  of  fight.  As  it 
was,  he  had  no  gun  on  him  and  his  horse 
was  tired. 

Behind  him  he  could  hear  the  thud  of 
galloping  hoofs,  and  nov/  shots  rang  in 
the  air.  They  were  trying  to  get  him  by 
any  means  now,  and  he  thought  he  had 
little  chance  of  reaching  his  shack. 

They  were  shooting  at  him  as  he  sped, 
their  shots  flying  wildly  at  first,  but  more 
and  more  surely  as  they  recovered  from 
his  desperate  onslaught.  After  a  while 
they  shot  less  regularly.  He  supposed 
that  they  had  few  cartridges  left  in  their 
belts  and  wished  to  be  so  close  as  to  be 
fairly  sure  of  hitting.  When  they  did 
shoot  now,  he  reahsed  that  their  bullets 
aime  uncomfortably  close.  He  had,  in- 
deed, a  slight  wound  in  his  arm  and  there 
was  a  ragged  hole  in  his  hat  where  a 
bullet  had  found  its  way. 

Only  half  a  mile  more  now,  and  he 
would  reach  the  shack.  But  they  were 
gradually  gaining  on  him,  and  their 
shooting  was  becoming  more  accurate. 

Before  him  he  beheld  the  mountains 
changing  colour  beneath  the  rays  of  the 
rising  sun,  which  clothed  their  gloomy 
sides  in  purple,  gold,  green,  blue,  so  that 
they  discarded  their  appearance  of  age, 
and  assumed  one  of  everlasting  and  all- 
powerful  youth.  Too  soon,  however, 
this  had  vanished  and  they  were  once 
more  hoarj^-headed,  green-robed  seers,  as 
suggestive  of  the  darkness  of  death  as 
thev  had  previously  been  of  the  jovs  of 
life'. 

Larry  beheld  it  all,  and  it  made  him 
think.  He  felt  there  was  little  chance  of 
his  escaping,  but  determined  to  try.  If 
he  surrendered  or  was  captured  he  would 
be  hanged.  If  he  was  not  shot  now,  he 
would  probably  be  killed  or  captured  in 
his  shack. 

For  a  moment  he  thought  of  the  past, 
and  it  returned  vividly  to  his  imagination, 
his  father's  farm  in  Maine,  their  long 
journey  in  an  emigrant  train  to  the  far 
west,  his  hard-worked  boyhood  as  the 
son  of  a  pioneer,  the  years  he  had  spent 
'punching'  cows,  with  the  long  morning 
rides  over  the  prairie,  the  hard  work  by 


day  and  night,  and  the  freed(nn  and  ex- 
citement attendant  upon  the  life.  And 
"last  but  not  least,"  he  thought  of  the  girl 
whom  he  had  hoped  to  marry,  and  of  the 
rascal  whom  he  had  thrashed  and  killed 
for  slandering  her  name.  But  his  thoughts 
soon  turned  to  the  endeavour  to  outwit  his 
pursuers. 

Finally  he  thought  he  had  found  a  way, 
dangerous  indeed,  but  offering  some  hope 
of  escape.  He  pulled  in  his  horse  a  trifle, 
still  keeping  at  a  fast  lope,  however.  He 
was  but  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the 
shack  now,  but  his  pursuers  hoped  to 
overtake  him  as  they  perceived  the  abate- 
ment in  his  speed. 

"His  cayuse  '11  soon  give  out,"  said  the 
sheriff,  "but  anyway,  we'll  sure  be  close 
enough  to  pot  him  in  a  couple  of  minutes." 

His  words  seemed  true,  for  rapidly  the 
pursuers  drew  in  upon  the  rash  strategist, 
and  their  bullets  began  to  find  accommoda- 
tion in  his  body,  for  already  he  had  a 
slight  leg  wound,  and  a  somewhat  more 
serious  one  in  the  side. 

Rising  in  his  stirrups,  he  turned  and 
flung  his  heavy  hat  full  in  the  face  of  the 
foremost  of  the  oncoming  ponies.  The 
beast  shied  so  violently  as  to  unseat  its 
rider,  good  horseman  though  he  was, 
and  crashed  into  the  other  animals. 

Without  waiting  to  watch  the  effects  of 
his  manoeuvre,  Larry  once  more  dug  his 
spurs  into  his  horse  and  set  forth  at  full 
speed  for  the  shack,  at  the  door  of  which 
he  dismounted  while  they  were  still  two 
hundred  yards  away,  so  much  had  he 
gained  by  his  trick. 

He  stepped  into  the  shack,  but  v.as  out 
again  almost  immediately  with  a  loaded 
rifle,  which  he  kept  pointed  at  the  oncom- 
ing party.  The  moment  they  saw  it  they 
realised  their  helplessness  and  reined  in. 
With  a  slight  ironical  smile  on  his  bronzed 
face,  Larry  hailed  the  sheriff: 

"If  you  gents  don't  object,  I'd  be  glad 
to  hev  yuh  drop  yer  guns  right  there,  and 
git  off  your  horses,  and  then  I'll  be  dee- 
lighted  to  receive  yuh  in  my  huml)le 
"house." 

Having  disburdened  themselves  of  a 
large  store  of  oaths,  the  men  com])lied 
with  the  demand,  and  shambled  shame- 
facedlv  to  the  bare  frame  building  where 
LarTA'  awaited  them. 


AN    APPEAL    OF    SPRING  601 

Larry  ahkcd  the  .sheriff  to  hand  over  the  It's  handy  that  he    uses  the    self-locking 

warrant.  kind." 

Having  received  and  destroyed  the  papers  Larr\-  dressed    his  wounds,  and  then, 

he  spoke  again  to  his  quondam  pursuers:  after  a  large  but  monotonous  breakfast  of 

"You  two  deputies  had  lietter  tie  the  pork  and   beans,  eaten    under  the   no?es 
sheriff.     Tie  him   tight  now.     I  kin  see  of  his  prisoners,  he  rose  to  depart, 
whether  you're  tying  a  good  knot  or  a  bad  "  Good-bye,  boys,"  he  said.    "I'll  man- 
one."  age    to    have    some   one   come    for  you 

When  they  had  finished  trussing  their  this    evening.     Remember    me    to    all. 

leader,  Larry  spoke  to  the  younger  deputy .  So-long! " 

"You,  kid,  jest  j)ut  a  few  hitches  on  yer  He  passed  through  the  doorway,  swung 

partner.     Then   bring  me  the  handcuffs  lightly   into   his   saddle,   and    then    rode 

which    the   sheriff   has   in   his   pocket,   I  away'at  a  brisk  trot,  with  his  rifle  across 

guess Jest  click  'em  on  yourself.  the  saddIe-})ow. 

An  Appeal  of  Spring 

BY    IVAN    L.    WRIGHT 

\1/ILL  you  tell  me,  fairy  Audrey, 
*  *       Of  the  land  wherein  you  dwell, 
Of  the  cold  and  lonely  pathways 

And  the  snow-enshrouded  dell. 
That  so  soon  will  be  transfigured 

By  the  vernal  call  of  spring. 
And  returning  feathered  songsters 

That  are  northward  on  the  wing? 

Will  you  tell  me,  forest  Audrey, 

Of  the  hushed  and  silent  streams, 
Of  the  North  God's  heartless  chanson 

That  I  hear  ofttimes  in  dreams? 
May  I  learn  the  hidden  secret 

That  will  make  the  welkin  ring 
When  the  seasons'  mighty  chorus 

Sings  the  glad  advent  of  spring? 

Will  you  tell  me,  woodland  Audrey, 

Of  the  gray  and  barren  trees; 
Of  the  winds  that  bring  them  tokens 

From  afar  across  the  seas; 
And  of  how  the  tender  grasses. 

All  the  landscape  altering, 
Soon  will  spread  their  rugs  of  velvet 

For  the  coming  of  the  spring? 

A\'ill  you  tell  me,  brown-eyed  dreamer, 

All  the  things  I  wish  to  know: 
Why  in  summer  all  is  sunshine, 

And  in  winter  all  is  snow? 
Will  you  tell  me,  too,  my  Princess, 

That  you'll  wear  this  symbol  ring. 
Molets  with  it  entwining — 

First  sweet  certainties  of  spring? 


Are  Our  Indians  Pagans: 


? 


By  W.  E.  H.  STOKES 


An  insight  into  the  religious  beliefs  of  our  Indians,  with  a  word 
to  the  churches  on  the  effectiveness  of  missiojiary  work 


ERHAPS  no  greater  injustice 
was  ever  perpetrated  by  one 
race  of  people  on  .  another 
than  when  the  Crees  and 
other  Indians  of  Saskatche- 
wan and  Alberta  were  officially  styled 
"Pagans"  by  the  Government.  After 
having  had  a  somewhat  exceptional  chance 
of  inquiring  into  the  obscure  subject  of 
the  religious  beliefs  of  Indians,  I  think  it 
safe  to  say  that  the  word  Pagan  is  not 
in  any  sense  applicable  to  these  people, 
and  I  dare  say  that  if  the  missionaries 
would  first  apply  themselves  to  the  study 
of  what  the  Crees  and  the  Blackfeet 
believe,  their  efforts  to  Christianise  would 
be  attended  with  a  much  greater  degree 
of  success  than  has  yet  been  achieved. 

With  scarcely  a  single  exception,  the 
missionaries,  both  Catholic  and  Protestant, 
that  I  have  met,  approach  the  Indian 
they  desire  to  conveit  thoroughly  imbued 
with  the  idea  that  what  the  so  called 
Pagan  believes  is  such  a  weird,  childish 
tissue  of  fancies  that  it  is  scarcely  worthy 
of  the  serious  attention  of  any  sane  man. 
The  Indians'  beliefs,  as  I  have  been 
fortunate  to  ascertain,  are  as  sacred,  as 
real  to  them,  as  ours  are  to  us,  and  I  have 
yet,  after  fourteen  years'  experience  in  this 
country,  to  meet  with  the  missionary  who 
had  the  least  idea  of  what  he  had  to 
combat  in  the  minds  of  the  Indians,  or 
had  ascertained  if  there  was  any  common 
belief  that  he  and  they  both  held  which 
might  be  used  as  a  starting  point  to  work 
from.  As  a  rule,  it  must  be  admitted  that, 
to  the  missionary,  the  Indian's  creed  is 
anatJiema  marantha. 

This  may  seem  to  be  a  rather 
sweeping  condemnation  of  the  methods 
that  have  been  followed  by  Protestant  and 
Roman  Catholic  missionaries  in  Western 
Canada  for  almost  two  generations, 
602 


but  when  I  reflect  upon  the  enormous 
sums  of  money  that  have  been  expend- 
ed, upon  the  loss  of  life  and  health,  and 
upon  the  real  devotion  and  zeal  that  have 
been  and  are  even  now  being  displayed  by 
the  missionaries  and  other  workers  for 
Christianity,  it  makes  me  sad.  It  must 
give  us  pause.  To  what  results  can  we 
point?  The  only  answer  that  has  been 
given  to  this  question  is,  "  Give  us  more 
time,  more  money,  more  workers."  But 
I  reply,  and  hope  to  prove  that  I  am 
correct:  "Your  efforts  are  misdirected, 
you  have  started  wrong,  and  in  the  mean- 
time the  good  you  have  accomplished  is 
largely  discounted  by  the  tide  of  civilisation 
which  has  undoubtedly  undone  and  is 
pernicious  to  the  races  of  Indians  which 
you  and  I  are  so  anxious  to  elevate." 

In  what  do  the  aborigines  of  this 
country  believe?  The  following  is  what 
I  found,  and  it  cannot  be  more  than  a 
mere  outline  owing  to  the  short  time  that 
I  have  devoted  to  this,  to  me,  extremely 
interesting  subject:  They  believe  in  two 
deities,  the  great  and  the  small.  The 
great  they  call  Manitou,  which  has  the 
power  for  all  good,  and  the  small,  Mat- 
chee-Manitou,  which  has  the  power  for  all 
evil.  The  possession  of  power  being  to 
the  Indian  the  greatest  and  dearest  attri- 
bute, he  will  naturally  apply  himself  to 
whichever  of  these  two  deities  will  for 
blessing  or  cursing  the  more  further  his 
ends,  but  whereas  he  will,  through  another, 
submit  supplications  and  make  great 
sacrifices  through  a  mediator  to  the  Great 
Spirit,  he  will  pray  occasionally  to  the 
small  spirit  without  any  intercessor  or 
formalities  or  sacrifices.  He  dare  not 
pray  direct  to  the  Great  Spirit,  but  will, 
recognising  his  own  innate  baseness,  go 
through  almost  anything  in  order  to  secure 
the  interest  of  a.  mediator  or  intercessor 


ARE    OUR   INDIANS   PAGANS? 


603 


who,  he  trusts,  will  have  more  influence 
with  the  Great  Spirit  or  Manitou  than  his 
unworthy  self.  It  is  in  the  selection  of 
this  mediator  that  the  influences  of 
dreams,  in  all  ages  and  climes  a  great  and 
powerful  agent  in  their  operation  on  men's 
minds,  comes  into  force.  These  media- 
tors must  themselves  be  spirits,  and  can 
reveal  themselves  to  man  only  in  dreams, 
or  sometimes  they  have  been  known  to 
possess  the  insane  or  mentally  afflicted. 
These  latter,  however,  are  often  possessed 
by  Matchee-Manitou,  and  then  the  evil 
spirit  must  be  driven  out,  resulting  in  the 
barbarities  familiar  to  us,  when  a  human 
being  is  supposed  to  have  a  Weh-ta-ko, 
or  Wehtigo.  The  Indian  believes  that 
his  own  influence  with  Manitou  is  as  good 
as  any  one's  except  a  spirit's.  What  is 
then  his  definition  of  a  spirit?  It  is  hard 
to  define,  but  the  explanation  of  the  term, 
according  to  the  Cree  and  Blackfoot,  is 
this:  It  is  the  invisible  essence  that  former- 
ly animated  the  body  of  a  human  being  or 
animal  when  living,  also  it  is  reflected  in 
and  by  the  shadow  cast  by  inanimate 
objects  when  the  sun  shines.  This  latter 
idea  appeals  to  me  as  a  very  beautiful  and 
poetical  one.  We  know  that  all  things 
above  ground  change  and  go  through 
their  appointed  periods  of  bloom  and 
decay.  Nothing  in  nature  is  everlasting. 
The  very  face  of  the  world  itself  alters, 
even  within  a  single  lifetime,  so  that  when 
the  Indian  says  that  there  must  be  a  spirit 
or  soul  in  inanimate  things  as  well  as  in 
those  bodies  which  we  deem  endowed 
with  life,  it  is  not  an  extravagant  or  even 
a  peculiar  thing  that  he  should  believe 
that  there  is  a  spirit  of  a  stick,  a  rock, 
the  prairie  grass,  or  the  mountains.  He 
will  therefore  attach  as  much  importance 
to  the  revelations  conveyed  to  him  by 
dreams  of  these  objects  as  he  will  to  those 
of  his  dead  fellow-creatures,  dreams  of  his 
dead  forefathers  or  relations,  or  of  any 
animals  or  creature  which  we  call  living. 
All  of  these  spirits  alike  were  called  into 
being  by  Manitou  and  are  being  recalled 
into  his  presence  as  one  by  one  they  die  or 
depart  from  mortal  ken. 

Now,  if  the  Indian  dreams  frequently 
of  any  object  dead  or  inanimate,  that  is  to 
say,  of  any  person  or  animal  or  thing 
casting  a  shadow,  as  the  case  may  be,  he 


believes  that  the  spirit  of  that  particular 
person,  animal  or  thing  casting  a  shadow 
has  either  some  power  for  him  or  some 
message  for  him,  or  perhaps  that  the  spirit 
wishes  to  signify  to  him  that  he  or  it  will 
protect  and  patronise  him  by  presenting 
his  petitions  to  Manitou.  The  spirits 
themselves  have  no  personal  power,  ex- 
cept only  that  they  are  acceptable  media- 
tors between  the  poor  Indian  and  Mani- 
tou. Therefore,  it  is  to  the  spirits  of 
which  the  Indian  has  frequently  dreamed 
that  he  will  address  his  prayers,  devout 
supplications  and  sacrifices,  in  order  that 
Manitou  may  be  pleased  to  send  to  the 
suppliant  power  to  gratify  his  wishes, 
whether  they  be  for  success  in  hunting  or 
in  the  courcil  tent,  or  for  power  to  work 
harm  to  his  enemies,  or  for  whatever 
particular  thing  it  may  be  that  at  the  time 
is  most  earnestly  desired.  Even  though 
he  may  be  dying,  the  Indian  will  not  even 
presume  to  make  these  prayers  or  sacri- 
fices more  than  twice  a  year,  as  he  fears 
to  intrude  oftener  so  unworthy  a  being 
as  he  feels  himself  to  be  upon  the  notice 
of  his  patron  spirits,  and  he  is  afraid  to  be 
so  presumptous  as  to  have  a  petition 
from  him  presented  to  the  Great  God 
more  frequently  than  this,  owing  to  the 
reverent  fear  in  which  he  holds  Manitou. 
Let  me  go  back  for  a  moment.  I  found 
that  among  the  older  so-called  Pagans, 
the  lesser  spirit,  or  Matchee-Manitou,  is 
a  being  that  they  would  hardly  consider 
seriously,  although  they  believe  in  his 
existence  firmly.  They  seemed  to  attach 
little  importance  to  the  power  of  the  evil 
spirit  that  they  thought  was  held  strictly 
in  subjection  to  Manitou,  and  they  ap- 
parently only  used  Matchee-Manitou  as  a 
sort  of  figure-head  on  which  to  lay  the 
blame  for  any  misfortune  that  might  over- 
take them.  In  fact  they  would  always 
try  to  turn  aside  my  inquiries  with  a  laugh 
when  I  asked  them  about  Matchee- 
Manitou.  I  need  not  perhaps  refer  to  him 
again,  as  it  is  only  very  rarely  that  an 
Indian  w-ill  pray  for  power  to  do  evil  to 
this  ideal  of  everything  that  is  bad, 
called  Matchee-Manitou,  and,  as  already 
pointed  out,  they  would  never  invoke  the 
aid  of  an  intercessor,  or  make  any  sacri- 
fice to  obtain  the  power  he  might  have  to 
bestow.     But  theu-  silence  and  refusal  to 


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THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


answer  my  questions  may,  nevertheless, 
be  due  to  fear. 

If  by  any  chance  you  should  happen 
to  see  one  of  these  mis-named  Pagans  at 
his  devotions  (and  it  is  only  by  chance  that 
you  will  do  so)  and  should  observe  that 
he  apparently  addresses  himself  to  a  tree, 
a  rock  or  to  nothing  that  is  discernable, 
remember  that  he  is  only  doing  as  the 
B,«fiiian  Catholics  do,  that  is,  asking  his 
patron  spirit  to  approach  in  his  behalf  the 
very  same  Great  God  that  we  believe  in, 
but  whom  the  Indian,  so  poor  and  vile  a 
creature  does  he  conceive  himself  to  be, 
dare  not,  and  will  not,  directly  address. 
Protestants  believe  only  in  one  mediator, 
one  intercessor,  one  ever-living  though 
once  dead  sacrifice — Jesus  Christ.  The 
Pagan  Indian  knows  nothing  of  Him,  and 
is  inclined  to  regard  the  story  of  incarn- 
ation as  a  flight  of  the  imagination.  There 
is  this  to  be  said,  that  once  the  postulate  is 
granted  in  the  matter  of  the  spirit  or 
immortal  essence  permeating  what  we  call 
inanimate  things  (and  this  is  not  a  matter 
that  would  seem  difficult  to  me),  there  is 
nothing  in  the  so-called  Pagan's  creed 
which  demands  the  surrender  of  his  rea- 
son, or  the  great  and  childlike  faith  which 
Christians  deem  necessary.  That  it  is 
necessary,  I  believe  myself,  not  from  any 
superior  knowledge  given  to  me  compared 
to  that  granted  to  an  Indian,  but  merely 
because  I  recognise  in  myself  so  much 
that  is  contrary  to  my  reason  and  yet  so 
much  that  I  accept  as  true,  without  any- 
thing in  the  way  of  evidence. 

Though  the  Christian  gospel  may  not 
appeal  to  the  Indian's  reason,  the  effect, 
or  result  of  Christianity  does  appeal  to  him 
and  in  no  attractive  light  either.  For 
what  does  he  find?  Civilisation,  which 
must  follow  Christianity,  has  been  a 
blight  on  the  Cree,  the  Blackfoot  and  on 
all  Indian  nations.  This  is  a  truism,  but 
the  fact  remains  that  civilisation  has 
acted  and  reacted  upon  the  Indians  very 
much  as  the  introduction  of  a  city  sewer 
would  do  upon  a  clear  and  limpid  moun- 
tain lake,  polluting  from  underneath,  in- 
sidiously, the  various  strata  of  the  In- 
dians' life,  affecting  first  the  young,  the 
vain,  and  the  foolish,  and  at  last,  as  the 
older  generations  die  off,  slowly  obliter- 
ating the   last   trace   of  the  purity   and 


beauty  that  formerly  was  the  boast.  There 
is  little  immorality  about  the  Pagan  Indian, 
I  mean  according  to  his  ideas.  There  is 
no  petty  thievery  among  the  Indians,  where 
they  have  been  fortunate  enough  to  escape 
from  the  evil  influences  which  the  arrival 
of  white  men  among  them  has  invariably 
produced.  This  to  some  may  seem  to  be 
extravagant  language,  but  it  is  my  ex- 
perience at  all  events,  more  particularly 
among  the  Mountain  Stoneys,  who  have 
in  a  great  measure  preserved  their  much- 
despised,  because  Pagan  principles,  of 
right  dealing,  honesty  and  general  up- 
rightness. They  are  Methodists  now, 
and  as  far  as  I  could  see  they  had  to  make 
but  a  slight  change  after  all  in  their  be- 
liefs, and  no  change  in  their  principles. 
They  believe  now  in  God,  the  Trinity,  and 
have  eliminated  the  mediation  of  every 
spirit  but  that  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  seem 
to  have  found  their  old  conception  of 
Manitou  differing  in  no  important  par- 
ticular from  that  of  their  new-found 
Father  Almighty,  the  same  All-good 
Power  that  they  had  always  acknowledged 
to  be  their  Master.  Not  much  of  change 
perhaps,  but  who  among  the  living  can 
say?  Formerly  they  were  Unitarians, 
with  the  very  beautiful  theory  of  spiritual 
intercession  added,  now  they  profess  with 
equal  sincerity  Christianity  or  Methodism, 
as  you  prefer.  Whether  this  result  should 
be  attributed  to  their  missionary,  the  Rev. 
John  McDougall,  or  to  the  inaccessibility 
of  their  homes  and  hunting  grounds,  I 
cannot  say.  I  have  not  had  the  honour 
of  meeting  this  gentleman,  and  he  is 
therefore  not  included  among  the  failures 
alluded  to  above.  Honour  to  whom 
honour  is  due.  I  have  met  with  Mountain 
Stoneys  both  at  Morley  and  Lac  Ste. 
Anne,  and  I  would  trust  one  in  all  matters 
implicitly,  relying  on  his  good  principles 
that  I  should  never  regret  it. 

A  Pagan  is  a  heathen  and  an  idolater, 
and  these  Indians  are  very  religious,  and 
have  never  been  known  to  worship  idols. 

Call  them  instead  of  Pagans,  worship- 
pers of  God  in  Nature.  Jehovah  of  the 
Jews  and  !Manitou  of  the  pure-blood 
Indian  resemble  each  other,  and,  in  fact, 
probably  mean  one  and  the  same  con- 
ception of  God.  Let  us  then  style  our 
Indians  anything  but  Pagans. 


THE  re-assembling  of  the  Douma 
establishes  an  intelligible  centre  in 
Russian  affairs.  Every  man  who  makes 
an  attempt  to  understand,  however  dim- 
ly, the  events  that  are  passing  in  the 
world  about  him,  must  often  despair 
when  he  endeavours  to  include  Russia 
among  the  things  that  are  labelled  and 
ticketed.  It  is  difficult  to  comprehend 
chaos,  and  political  and  social  chaos  is 
about  all  of  which  we  seem  to  be  con- 
scious in  surveying  the  great  Tartar 
Empire.  The  Douma,  however,  is  a 
spot  of  intelligible  organisation  amid 
the  whirling  vortex  of  things  Russian, 
and  the  hope  is  that  it  will  gradually 
bring  a  measure  of  organisation  and  in- 
telligibility into  all  that  is  now  unorgan- 
ised and  uninteUigible.  For  we  have 
to  recognise  that  bureaucracy  is  not 
organisation.  The  ills  of  Russia  are  so 
great  that  one  feels  she  has  no  right  to  be 
alive.  But  alive  she  is  in  spite  of  over- 
whelming defeats  of  both  army  and 
navy,  in  spite  of  anarchy,  wholesale 
murder,  robbery  rampant,  and  last  and 
most  paralysing  of  all,  widespread  and 
uncontrollable  famine. 

It  is  under  circumstances  JiKe  mese 
that  the  Douma  meets.  It  may  be 
thought  that  the  country  has  more  press- 
ing problems  before  it  than  the  working 
out  of  Parliamentary  institutions.  The 
feeling  among  reformers  is,  however, 
that  no  real  progress  can  be  made  until 
the  constitutional  problem  is  first  solved. 
The  grievances  of  the  people  cannot  find 
redress  until  they  have  a  constitutional 
means  of  making  them  known  and  of 
providing  remedies.  Every  few  years 
millions  of  the  Czar's  subjects  are  con- 
fronted by  famine.  Wliy  should  this 
be,  as  it  is  this  year  in  Southern  Russia, 
in  lands  that  are  more  than  commonly 
favoured    for    the    production    of    food? 

605 


The  answer  is,  ignorance  and'  bad  laws. 
Man  cannot  control  the  elements.  He 
cannot  make  it  rain  when  atmospheric 
conditions  are  unfavourable,  but  these 
same  atmospheric  conditions  cannot  be 
unfavourable  everywhere  simultaneously, 
and  one  of  the  triumphs  of  civilisation 
is  that  production  has  been  so  univer- 
salised,  that  the  land  that  has  no  crops 
in  any  year  is  fed  by  those  which  have 
abundance.  But  ignorance  and  bad  gov- 
ernment in  Russia  prevent  the  peasant 
from  availing  himself  of  these  common- 
places of  civilisation.  He  is  still  prac- 
tising agriculture  on  the  methods  that 
prevailed  in  the  times  of  Ruric  the  Red, 
and  in  his  best  years  subsistence  and 
taxes  consume  his  products.  When  a 
lean  year  or  two  comes  he  has  no  pro- 
vision for  them  except  to  clench  his 
teeth  and  starve. 

^^'e  sometimes  curl  the  lip  when  popu- 
lar education  is  talked  about,  or  if  any 
one  ventures  to  refer  to  its  value.  It  is 
true  that  we  have  not  succeeded  in  mak- 
ing wisdom,  culture  and  a  high  morality 
universally  prevail  even  in  countries 
which  have  done  most  to  realise  educa- 
tional ideals.  ISIeagre  as  the  results 
have  been,  however,  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  the  banishment  of  stark 
famine  from  the  more  advanced  nations 
is  due  to  the  heightening  of  general  in- 
telligence which  education  has  brought 
about.  He  is  a  very  poor  t}^e  of  re- 
former who  says  that  all  that  popular 
education  has  done  is  to  make  the  poor 
man  discontented  with  his  lot.  Dis- 
content may  be  an  unpleasant  phenom- 
enon to  the  man  w^ho  has  more  than 
his  share  of  the  good  things,  but  in  the 
best  sense  discontent  is  divine.  It  has 
been  the  mainspring  of  all  progress,  and 
when  it  ceases  to  be  the  world  will  be 
a    black   and   tenantless    ball   in    space. 


606 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


THIS    MAKES    UNCLE   SAM   FEEL   BETTER 

Japan:    "I  ain't  goin'   to  do  nothin'  to  you." 

— Selected 


The  summoning  of  a  Parliament  in 
Russia,  therefore,  may  not  put  bread  in 
the  moujik's  mouth,  but  it  may  materi- 
ally improve  the  condition  of  his  son  or 
his  son's  son.  Parliamentary  Govern- 
ment is  by  no  means  perfect,  but  it  is 
better  than  autocracy.  Autocracy  has 
had  its  chance  and  it  has  been  found 
out.  The  one  virtue  that  has  been  pred- 
icated of  it,  efficiency,  is  the  very  virtue 
in  which  it  is  most  deficient. 

There  is  no  school  like  adversity.  The 
chief  characteristic  of  Russian  diplo- 
macy before  the  war  with  Japan  was 
intolerance  and  arrogance.  It  seems 
never  to  have  entered  the  heads  of 
Alexieff  and  the  other  blunderers  who 
represented  St.  Petersburg  in  the  far 
East  that  the  little  yellow  people  whom 
thev  met  on  the  Pacific  had  feehngs  that 
deserved  to  be  considered.  The  fruits 
of  the  victory  over  China  were  stolen 
from  the  victor  in  a  manner  that  would 
have  made  a  highway  robber  ashamed  of 
his  calling.     It  is  now  noted  that  a  great 


change  has  come  over  Russian  diplo- 
macy. It  recognises  that  other  nations 
may  have  aspirations  and  susceptibili- 
ties and  what  Russia  wants  is  not  the 
measure  of  international  rights.  Un- 
der this  changed  tone  there  is  a  possi- 
bility that  London  and  St.  Petersburg 
may  arrive  at  an  understanding  of  the 
points  wherein  their  interests  coincide 
and  wherein  they  are  irreconcilable. 
There  is  every  probability  that  Russia 
and  Japan  will  shake  hands  in  Man- 
churia and  come  to  a  mutual  agreement 
as  to  their  spheres  of  influence  in  those 
regions.  China  may  suffer  somewhat 
in  the  arrangement,  Vjut  that  may  be 
for  the  ultimate  good  of  the  world.  In- 
deed, already  Japanese  suburbs  have 
been  added  to  Newchwang  and  other 
towns  in  Chinese  Manchuria,  and  the 
inhabitants  of  these  suburbs  will  play 
an  important  part  in  the  future  of  the 
Province.  When  a  Japanese  official  is 
asked  how  soon  the  evacuation  of  Man- 
churia will  be  effected,  he  answers  that 
it  has  already  been  eft'ected,  and  if  one 
further  asks  who  are  these  uniformed 
persons  whom  one  sees  throughout  the 
country,  the  answer  is  that  they  are  not 
soldiers — they  are  police  and  railway 
guards.  One  may  well  wonder  whether 
^ftnchuria  can  ever  again  become  de- 
Japanised.  It  is  easy  for  a  man  to  iden- 
tify himself  with  the  country  on  and  for 
whose  soil  he  fought.  China  was  un- 
worthy and  unable  to  keep  it,  and  few 
people  will  mourn  if  she  loses  it. 

U 

In  the  meantime  there  are  evidences 
that  the  clash  over  the  admission  of 
Japanese  children  to  the  Japanese  schools 
has  promoted  a  keen  interest  in  things 
Japanese  amongst  our  neighbours.  The 
cartoonists  are  particularly  attracted 
by  the  topic.  Some  of  them  imagine 
that  because  Uncle  Sam  has  had  an  at- 
tack of  nerves  all  other  nations  are  in  a 
similar  demoralised  condition  over  the 
Japanese  spectre.  A  draughtsman  in 
the  ^Minneapolis  /oz/rno/  represents  Japan 
with  a  sword  in  one  hand,  a  bayoneted 
rifle  in  the  other,  and  seated  on  a  throne 
composed   of   cannons   and   powder-bar- 


CURRENT   EVENTS   ABROAD 


601 


rels.  Behind  is  John  Bull,  while  all 
about  with  their  hair  on  end  stand  the 
leading  nations,  including  Jonathan  with 
his  knees  knocking  and  his  cigar  falling 
out  of  his  mouth.  The  legend  under- 
neath is  "The  Bogey  Man  of  the  Na- 
tions." He  is  certainly  worthy  of  the 
study  of  the  United  States.  That  coun- 
try is  Japan's  neighbour  on  the  Pacific, 
and  how  to  get  along  with  him  is  a  prob- 
lem for  statesmen. 

Congress  has  just  adjourned,  and  the 
fact  that  stands  out  prominently  from 
its  proceedings  is  that  appropriations 
are  greater  than  had  been.  In  1890,  at 
the  close  of  the  two  sessions,  which  are 
the  duration  of  a  Congress,  it  was  an- 
nounced that  it  had  been  "a  billion 
dollar  Congress,"'  meaning  that  the  ex- 
penditure had  reached  the  unprecedented 
amount  of  half  a  billion  dollars  for  each 
of  the  years.  Now  it  can  be  announced 
that  a  bilUon  dollar  session  has  been 
reached,  so  that  the  two  billion  dollar 
Congress  will  be  the  standard  of  the 
future.  The  answer  of  those  who  were 
responsible  for  the  first  billion  dollar 
Congress  was:  "Well,  this  is  a  billion 
dollar  country,"  and  this  appeal  to  self- 
glorification  simply  swept  away  the  coun- 
sels of  the  cautious  and  the  foreboding. 
The  other  item  to  this  financial  outlook 
is  that  a  deficit  of  $100,000,000  is  antici- 
pated between  revenue  and  expendi- 
ture. But  the  country  is  so  fat  and 
careless  that  this  announcement  does 
not  stir  a  feather  in  its  self-complacency. 


The  first  general  election  in  the  Trans- 
vaal as  a  colony  has  resulted  in  a  victory 
for  Het  Volk,  the  Boer  party.  General 
Botha  will  be  Premier  and  Sir  Richard 
Solomon  will  be  a  member  of  his  cabinet. 
Sir  Richard  is  thoroughly  loyal  to  British 
connection,  but  opposes  the  formation 
of  an  anti-Boer  party.  He  hopes  to 
avoid  dividing  the  colony  on  racial  lines. 
There  v:ill  be  many  who  will  sympathise 
with  Sir  Richard's  view.  A  '"British" 
party  would  only  serve  to  consolidate 
the  Boers.  The  main  aim  should  be 
to  make  the  Transvaal  prosperous,  and  if 


WORK    OF   THE   FIFTY-NINTH   CONGRESS 

Weary  Willie  Congress:  "Well,  I 
haven't  sawed  much  wood,  but  it  ought  to  be 
enough  to  keep  the  Government  a-goin'  and 
get  me  a  square  meal." 

— Minneapolis  Journal. 

British  energ}'  and  enterprise  can  do 
this,  it  will  go  a  long  way  towards  mak- 
ing our  new  subjects  contented  with 
their  political  condition.  The  spectacle 
of  a  gentleman  in  arms  against  British 
rule  a  few  short  months  ago  and  now 
the  virtual  ruler  of  a  British  colony  is 
one  to  make  the  average  foreigner  gasp. 
But  it  will  in  every  likehhood  be  a  suc- 
cessful experiment.  Already  Gen.  Botha 
has  accepted  the  invitation  to  attend 
the  Colonial  Conference.  Sir  WiKrid 
Laurier,  when  he  meets  his  fellow- 
premier,  will  have  an  opportimity  of 
personally  answering  for  those  speeches 
which  did  so  much  to  unite  the  British 
spirit  in  that  hard  struggle  in  which  Gen. 
Botha  went  down  to  defeat. 

It  has  been  arranged  that  the  Hague 
Conference  ^^^ll  meet  on  or  about  the 
ist  of  June.  Russia,  which  is  again  the 
convener  of  the  assemblage,  is  opposed 
to  the  consideration  of  the  question  as 
to  the  limitation  of  armaments.  In  this 
she  is  supported  by  all  the  other  leading 
powers  of  the  Continent.  Great  Britain 
and  the  United  States,  on  the  other  hand, 
are  pressing  that  that  subject  should  be 
included  among  those  to  be  debated. 
It  was  one  of  the  leading  topics  at  the 


608 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


last  Hague  Conference  in  iSgg.  The 
objection  urged  against  it  is  that  it  is 
not  a  practical  question,  and  the  con- 
tinental powers  are  anxious  to  confine 
the  discussion  to  subjects  upon  which 
there  is  a  likelihood  that  some  action 
will  be  taken.  There  is  no  UkeHhood, 
they  say,  of  any  action  being  taken  in 
the  direction  of  Umiting  military  or 
naval  expenditures,  so  that  it  would  be 
mere  waste  of  time  discussing  it.  Those 
who  argue  thus  forget  what  a  powerful 
solvent  of  difficulties  discussion  is. 

n 

Mr.  Bryce,  the  British  Ambassador, 
is  due  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  Governor- 
General,  at  Ottawa,  before  these  pages 
meet  the  eye  of  the  reader.  He  has  been 
busy  with  Secretary  Root  ever  since  his 
arrival  in  Washington,  and  his  \nsit  to 
Ottawa  is  avowedlv  made  in  order  that 


he  ma}'  confer  with  Earl  Grey  on  all 
matters  of  a  diplomatic  character  now 
at  issue  between  the  United  States  and 
Canada.  We  may  presume  that  the 
real  conference  will  be  with  the  Prime 
Minister,  although  it  should  be  said 
that  we  have  in  Earl  Grey  a  gentleman 
as  much  concerned  to  preserve  Canadian 
rights  as  any  of  his  Ministers.  Natur- 
ally Mr.  Bryce  will  be  anxious  to  come 
to  some  settlement,  and  when  he  has 
gathered  the  xiews  of  both  sides  he  will 
be  able  to  appraise  how  far  we  stand 
asvmder.  His  diplomatic  duty  will  be 
to  bridge  that  httle  chasm.  It  may  be 
said  frankly  that  an  accommodation  of 
the  differences  that  exist  between  Canada 
and  the  United  States  would  be  a  meri- 
torious achievement,  pro^^ded  we  are 
not  asked  to  pay  too  much  for  it. 

John  A.  Ewan. 


SWETTENHAM  AND   D.WIS  TO  THE  CONTRARY, 
NOTWITHSTANDING 

Uncle  Sam:    "It's  all  right,  John;  we  know 
how  you  feel  about  it." 

— Chicago  Record-Herald 


\v;6rTAN 


vSph^rl 


Was  never  so  green  a  glade 

For  human  heart's  desire — 
Was  never  so  sweet  a  shade, 

•*^ince  the  fall  and  the  sword  uf  fire. 
The  birds  of  all  plumage,  here 

Are  singing  their  lovingest  songs — 
Oh!   that  she  stood  list"ning  near 

For  whom  my  lone  heart  longs' 

Fair  Spring  is  the  fond  Earth's  bride. 

That  Cometh  all  wreathed  in  flowers; 
And  he  laughs  by  his  lady's  side, 

And  leads  her  through  endless  bowers. 
My  lady's  the  Spring  to  me, 

And  her  absence  wintereth  all; 
For  others  the  hours  may  flee, 

On  me  like  a  mist  the}'  fall. 

— T.  D'Arcy  McGee. 

tr 

A  CAXADIAX  HEROINE 

DURING  the  last  week  of  February 
a  fire  occurred  in  a  suburban  school 
of  Montreal,  which  was  the  occasion  of 
a  terrible  loss  of  life.  Sixteen  of  the 
kindergarten  pupils  and  ^liss  Sarah 
^laxwell,  the  teacher,  were  found  dead 
after  the  flames  were  subdued.  ^liss 
Maxwell  had  rescued  about  forty  of  her 
small  pupils  and  went  back  to  the  rest, 
although  it  was  returning  to  certain 
death.  The  deed  was  courage  of  the 
highest  order,  and  the  movement  for  a 
memorial  to  the  heroic  woman  does  not 
belong  to  Montreal  alone. 

But  there  is  an  aspect  of  the  matter 
which  has  not  yet  been  satisfactorily 
explained.  Poems  on  the  self-sacrific- 
ing teacher  and  memorial  movements  are 
a  natural  expression  of  the  public  feeling. 
But  what  about  the  disgraceful  condi- 
tions which  made  such  a  sacrifice  neces- 
sary? The  building  was  of  frame,  thinly 
disguised  with  brick,  and  went  like  tin- 
der. The  smallest  children  were  on 
the  third  storey,  and  there  was  nothing 

9—609 


provided  for  escape  from  such  a  con- 
flagration. Xo  intelligent  or  patriotic 
Canadian  could  read  the  story  of  that 
fire  and  that  senseless  loss  of  life  with- 
out a  sen.sation  of  choking  indignation. 
Miss  Maxwell  and  those  sixteen  Httle 
children  ought  to  be  alive  to-day.  The 
cause  of  their  death  was  criminal  neg- 
lect on  the  part  of  authorities  who  are 
evidently  \\-ithout  conscience.  We  talk 
about  the  "sacredness  of  hfe,"  but  Mon- 
treal lets  sixteen  helpless  children  die 
and  Toronto  allows  thousands  of  her 
citizens  to  risk  their  lives  ever}'  stimmer 
day  in  search  of  cooling  breezes,  while 
aldermen  and  politicians  indulge  in 
seemingly  interminable  discussion  about 
a  bridge  that  should  have  been  erected 
ten  years  ago.  Cixic  magnates  are  think- 
ing of  graft,  not  of  duty,  and  what  do 
human  lives  matter  to  the  vote-chaser? 

A  pious  writer  in  the  ^lontreal  Star 
reflects  in  this  wise:  "And  what  a  les- 
son in  this  for  all  Canadian  women.  If 
all  the  women  in  the  thousands  of  homes 
all  over  Canada  into  which  this  paper 
goes  would  profit  by  the  lesson,  perhaps 
Miss  !Max"\vell  would  feel  that  indeed 
she  had  not  lived  her  short  life  in  vain." 
I  wonder  if  a  man  wTote  that  stuff". 
^Miere  is  the  lesson  for  men  in  the  trag- 
edy? Is  it  not  time  for  them  to  realise 
that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  ci%-ic  re- 
sponsibility, that  the  hfe  of  a  child  may 
be  worth  as  much  as  a  roll  of  bank 
notes?  Historv-  .  does  not  show  that 
women  have  been  lacking  in  the  quali- 
ties of  unselfishness  and  fortitude.  Nor 
does  a  glance  at  the  everv'day  world  of 
the  present  show  that  women  are  in 
dire  need  of  such  a  "lesson."  If  the 
men  .who  read  of  that  Montreal  horror 
would  take  its  teaching  to  heart  and  see 


610 


THE    CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


AN  o.s.A.  exhibit:    the  winter  girl 

By  Miss  C.  L.  Hillyard 

that  proper  schools  are  constructed,  and 
that  trustees  who  have  some  sense  of 
moral  obhgation  are  elected,  then  there 
may  be  some  good  come  out  of  an  un- 
necessary evil.  One  MTiter  called  the 
disaster  a  "mysterious  Providence."  It 
is  not  the  first  time  that  man  has  blamed 
the  consequences  of  his  omti  neglect  and 
wrongdoing  on  a  convenient  and  long- 
suffering  "dispensation." 

u 

MORE  ABOUT  MARIE 

A  CORRESPONDENT  has  written 
to  this  department  about  a  para- 
graph Avhich  appeared  in  the  ^larch 
number  of  The  Caxadl\n  Mag.azine, 
treating  of  Miss  CorelH's  utterance  re- 
a;arding    woman    suffrage.      The  "  corre- 


spondent assxires  us  that  Miss  Corelli  is 
a  "real  religion"  unto  her  and  that 
"Thelma"  is  the  sweetest  novel  she  ever 
read.  "Thelma,"  if  I  remember  cor- 
rectly, is  a  Norwegian  novel  with  lots  of 
■-cenery  in  the  early  chapters — lobster 
-alad  skies  and  navy-blue  fjords  and  a 
perfectly  beautiful  heroine  in  a  plain 
serge  gown.  A  woman  of  surpassing 
loveliness  and  virtue  always  wears  serge 
on  her  first  appearance.  Before  the 
close  of  the  book  she  is  married  to  an 
earl,  or  something  like  that,  and  lives 
happy  ever  after  in  a  gown  of  shiny 
white  satin.  g'* 

But  New  York  Lije  has  been  moved 
to  protest  against  the  novehst's  recent 
sweeping  assertions  regarding  America. 
Of  course,  both  Life  and  Miss  Corelli 
mean  the  United  States  when  they  use 
that  proper  noun.  It  never  occurs  to 
them  that  Montreal,  Rio  de  Janeiro, 
Buenos  Ayres  and  Yucatan  also  belong 
to  the  continent  of  "America."  But 
we  are  accustomed  to  this  minor  pro- 
vincialism and  do  not  let  it  worry  us, 
inasmuch  as  Sir  Wilfrid  I^aurier  says, 
;hat  Canada  has  a  mortgage  on  the 
rwentieth  Century;  and  who  cares  what 
we  are  called  when  we  have  the  next 
hundred  years  all  to  ourselves? 

However,  this  is  what  Lije  has  to  say 
regarding  the  'lustrious  lady:  "Amer- 
ica may  have  the  W.C.T.U.  and  Powie, 
but  it  has  been  spared  Marie  Corelli. 
This  enchanting  young  thing  has  a 
comic-opera  name,  a  passion  for  publi- 
cation, a  pen  that  does  as  much  wronging 
as  writing,  the  tact  and  temper  of  an 
irritated  wasp  and  the  modesty  and 
reticence  of  a  vaudeville  headliner.  Were 
Bernard  Shaw  pasteurised,  sterilised  and 
feminised,  his  name  would  be  Corelli. 
Marie  loathes  America,  lectures  and 
lashes  England,  and  has  appointed  her- 
self censor  of  morals  and  incenser  of  per- 
sons in  the  British  Empire.  She  is  in- 
terpreter for  Satan,  the  supervisor  of 
Providence,  and  is  con\inced  that  Jove, 
Minerva  and  Bellona  were  boiled  and 
distilled  to  secure  the  spirit  and  afflatus 
animating  Marie.  Her  literary  output 
rivals  Hall  Caine's  in  volume  and  vio- 
lence; she  is  the  idol  of  the  British  cham- 


WOMAN'S   SPHERE 


611 


bermaid,  and  were 
she  possessed  of  her 
amiability,  invention 
and  English,  might 
be  termed  the  Laura 
Jean  Libbey  of 
Albion." 

SOME  O.vS.A. 

CANVASES 

DURING  the 
month  of  March 
the  Ontario  Society 
of  Artists  held  their 
thirty-fifth  annual 
exhibition  in  Toron- 
to. Local  critics 
adopt  a  rather  con- 
descending tone  to-  AX  o.s.A. 
wards  these  exhi- 
bitions,   as     if    the 

artists  concerned  were  feeble  young 
amateurs  just  learning  to  sketch,  or  a 
group  of  boarding-school  maidens  tak- 
ing their  first  "quarter"  in  drawing. 
WTiile  we  do  not  assert  that  we  have  a 
Canadian  Watts  or  Corot,  it  must  be 
admitted  that  our  Canadian  artists  are 
serious  students  who  know  more  or  less 
of  the  technique  of  the  craft  and  who 
are  not  to  be  classed  as  trembling  ex- 
perimenters. 

It  is  cheering  to  notice  that  our  Cana- 
dian artists  are  papng  more  attention 
to  home  scenes  than  in  the  past.  While 
ours  is  a  crude  covmtry  and  the  art  stu- 
dent needs  foreign  atmosphere  and  train- 
ing, there  is  no  reason  why  he  should 
not  apply  the  culture  he  has  acquired 
abroad  to  the  treatment  of  Canadian 
themes.  Our  musicians  are  beginning 
to  take  this  into  consideration,  and  it  is 
high  time  for  our  artists  to  do  likewise. 
Mr.  Curtis  Williamson,  whose  pictures 
have  known  Salon  honours,  has  at  last 
turned  his  attention  to  his  native  con- 
tinent and  the  result  is  a  Newfoundland 
study,  "The  Lonely  Coast,"  which  truly 
belongs  to  the  west  side  of  the  Atlantic. 
Mr.  jefferys  has  "\Mieat-Stacks  on  the 
Prairie,"  that  every  Westerner  simply 
gloats  over,  repudiating  the  Easterner's 
surprise   at   the   surpassing  gold   of  this 


exhibit:  saw-mills  ix  muskoka 

By  Miss  M.  E.  Wrinch 

daring  study.  Miss  Wrinch  has  turned 
to  the  playground  of  Ontario  and  has 
given  us  "Saw-Mills,  Muskoka,"  with 
skies  of  duskier  blue  than  York  and 
Wentworth  know.  Now,  if  someone 
would  just  go  down  to  Lincoln  County 
in  August  or  September  and  give  us  a 
vineyard  or  an  orchard  vsith  some  Lin- 
coln girls  and  boys  in  the  midst,  we 
should  feel  infinitely  obliged. 

The  women's  work  shows  a  growth  of 
this  native  ambition  and  one  of  the  most 
suggestive  studies  is  Miss  Carrie  Hill- 
yard's  "Winter  Girl"  with  her  serious 
vet  sonsy  face.  Miss  Eleanor  Wood  has 
"A  Woodland  Road"  with  a  forest  rich- 
ness of  brown  gloom.  Miss  Clara  Hag- 
arty's  "Tete-i-Tete"  shows  a  vivacious 
pliancy,  somewhat  unusvial  in  Canadian 
figure  work.  Mrs.  Knowles  has  a  bril- 
liant  "Autumn"  canvas  and  a  "Misty 
Morning"  of  delicate  charm.  Miss 
Kerr's  "Fisher-Folk  of  Volendam "  has 
attracted  much  attention.  ]Mrs.  Reid's 
decorative  work  is  represented  by  six 
studies  and  Miss  Gertrude  Spurr's  "Way- 
side, Chateau  Richer"  is  a  delightful 
quiet  comer.  Miss  Henrietta  Shore's 
"Girl  With  Doll"  is  a  striking  produc- 
tion by  a  young  artist  \\ith  ideas  of  her 
own.  Altogether,  the  work  of  our  wo- 
men   students   is   such   as   to   encourase 


612 


THE   CANADIAN   MAGAZINE 


the  belief  that  the  Canadian  artist  is 
growing  in  strength  and  sincerity. 

.    tr 

POPULAR  FABRICS 

TT  is  largely  owing  to  the  various  art 
■*■  associations  among  the  women  of 
Canada  that  the  homespun  material 
produced  in  our  own  provinces  is  growing 
in  popularity.  No  one  who  has  once 
purchased  a  ''dress  length"  of  this  goods 
fails  to  buy  a  second.  The  stuff 
which  we  are  glibly  informed  in  the 
shops  is  all  wool  or  all  Unen  frequently 
proves  to  be  a  delusion  and  a  shoddy 
snare.  But  the  native  homespuns  are 
the  reliable  article,  and  deserve  to  grow 
in  feminine  favour. 

Interest  in  the  embroidery  and  lace 
made  by  Canadian  women  is  also  on 
the  increase,  and  such  industries  in  Que- 
Vjec,  the  Maritime  Provinces  and  the 
West  are  stimulated  thereby.  The  re- 
vival of  hand  embroidery  has  led  to 
many  exquisitely  dainty  achievements 
in  this  art.  Ruskin  was  right  when  he 
said  that  no  machine  productions  can 
equal  human  handiwork  at  its  best.  The 
woman  who  is  not  fond  of  a  bit  of  good 
lace  or  a  piece  of  delicate  embroidery  is 
fit  for  "treasons,  stratagems  and  spoils." 

THE  STUDY  OF  EXPRESSION 

ONE  result  of  the  Governor-General's 
Musical  and  Dramatic  Competition 
held  last  January  has  been  to  stimulate 
interest  in  local  amateur  offort.  One 
movement  is  evident  in  modern  education- 
al circles  for  a  truer,  nobler  vocal  inter- 
pretation of  literature.  Years  ago,  Can- 
ada was  inflicted  \\'ith  "yellowcution." 
A  host  of  instructors  came  over  the  border 
from  Philadelphia  and  other  cultured 
centres  and  greatly  did  Canadian  audiences 
suffer  from  "Lasca"  and  other  poems. 
Most  of  the  instructors  from  the  United 
States  schools  of  oratory  were  at  that 
time  sadly  lacking  in  a  knowledge  of  the 
best  literature  and  gave  their  pupils 
defective  training  and  poor  material  on 
which  to  exercise  that  tr?iring. 

Lately  it  has  been  brought  to  the  notice 
of  those  at  the  head  of  educational  affairs 
that  Canadian  pupils  are  as  a  rule  poor 


readers,  that  their  enunciation  is  sadly 
imperfect  and  their  modulation  a  matter 
for  mourning.  But  such  visitors  as  Dr. 
Moulton  and  Dr.  Hiram  Corson  have 
aroused  their  hearers  to  an  appreciation 
of  true  literature  nobly  read  and  the  efi'ect 
of  their  visits  is  seen  in  the  renewed  in- 
terest in  vocal  expression.  Women  as 
a  rule  give  more  attention  to  these  matters 
than  men  are  able  to  give.  The  Canadian 
voice  has  been  justly  criticised,  but  better 
things  may  be  in  store  for  the  next  genera- 
tion of  readers  and  hearers. 

tr 

THE  CLINGING  VINE 

TT  was  the  late  Washington  Irving,  I 
■*■  believe,  who  compared  man  to  the 
sturdy  oak  and  woman  to  the  clinging 
vine.  The  simile  may  be  older  still  and 
go  back  to  the  days  of  Socrates,  who  cer- 
tainly found  Xanthippe  a  rather  strang- 
ling sort  of  vine,  with  tenacious  tendrils. 
However,  it  is  a  matter  of  immediate, 
modem  interest  that  the  clinging  vine 
t\-pe  is  to  be  fashionable  this  spring. 
You  must  droop  from  head  to  foot  if  you 
would  be  "in  style"  this  April.  Cul- 
tivate the  weeping  willow  and  the  shivery 
aspen.  Sleeves  are  to  be  "set  in"  sev- 
eral inches  below  the  shoulder  curve, 
and  with  these  sleeves  an  expression  of 
forlorn  pensiveness  is  to  be  worn.  You 
must  be  neither  brisk  nor  energetic,  but 
should  go  dreamily  along  with  the  head 
poked  very  much  forward.  "Long,  un- 
curled, attenuated  ostrich  plumes  is  a 
decree  that  has  gone  forth;  drooping 
hat-brims,  sloping  shoulders,  clinging 
skirts,  and  the  picture  is  complete." 

This  is  a  rather  disconsolate  portrait, 
for  which  we  cannot  all  at  once  find 
fitting  frame.  \\'hat  will  become  of 
the  plump  lady  whom  her  enemies  call 
"fat"?  She  cannot  droop  \\itho_ut  hav- 
ing a  doubled-up  appearance  rather 
painful  to  contemplate.  The  short  per- 
.son,  too,  whether  slim  or  fat,  will  not  be 
a  success  in  the  "slinky"  role.  But  the 
decree  of  fashion  has  gone  forth  and  all 
the  daughters  of  Eve,  save  perchance 
the  suffragists,  will  make  haste  to  be- 
come clinging  vines.  What  the  "sturdy 
oaks"  will  do,  the  fashion  column  fails 
to  predict.         '  Jean  Graham 


^THEi  WAY '. 


°^J^tt|^ 


WHAT  IS  NATIONAL  LITERATURE? 

THK  subject  of  a  Canadian  national 
literature  is  receiving  more  attention 
than  usual  just  now,  and  it  is  astonishing 
to  see  how  many  persons  who  write  or 
speak  on  it  assurrie  an  arbitrary  stand, 
pointing  out  the  difficulties  and  the  op- 
portunities and  precisely  defining  the 
situation.  It  would  indeed  be  presump- 
tuous for  anyone,  at  this  stage  in  the 
history  of  the  Dominion,  to  say  that  we 
have  or  have  not  a  national  literature  now, 
or  to  conclude  with  certainty  that  there 
will  ever  be  in  this  country  writings 
sufficiently  enduring  and  penetrating  to 
claim  so  high  a  distinction.  To  be 
national  in  character,  the  literature  of  a 
country  must  seize  upon  the  whole 
people  and  live  with  them  and  in  them 
from  generation  to  generation.  Perhaps 
what  to  us  is  not  above  mediocrity  may 
be  the  glory  of  succeeding  generations. 
It  is  not  for  us,  therefore,  to  take  an 
arbitrary  stand  on  this  question  by  insist- 
ing that  we  have  or  have  not  a  national 
literature.  All  that  is  required  of  us  is  to 
do  our  part  towards  the  realisation  of 
so  desirable  a  thing,  to  bring  to  hght  the 
best  that  is  in  us,  so. that  future  generations 
may  say:  "Thisis  the  work  of  genius;  this 
has  lived,  is  living  and  will  live."  Not 
until  our  literature  has  been  accepted  and 
nourished  and  perpetuated  by  the  people 
may  we  claim  for  it  national  distinction. 

PLAIN  TALK  FOR  AMERICANS 

A  VOLUME  of  more  than  ordinary 
■^*-  significance  has  recently  been  written 
by  Mr.  Franklin  Pierce,  a  well-known 
barrister  of  New  York,  entitled  "The 
Tariff  and  the  Trusts"  (Toronto:  The 
Macmillan  Company  of  Canada,  Limited). 
The  subject  is  an  extremely  heavy  one 

6L3 


and  is  of  so  controversial  a  nature  that 
it  will  not  be  necessary  or  in  place  in  a 
review  of  this  kind  to  take  a  stand  for  or 
against  the  views  expressed  in  this  in- 
.stance.  Mr.  Pierce  has  had  exceptional 
opportunities  of  observing  the  effect  of 
tariffs,  and  it  is  interesting  to  note  that 
he  is  quite  decided  in  his  ojnnion  that  both 
the  Dingley  and  the  McKinley  tariffs  have 
caused  oppression  of  the  masses.  The 
author  says  that  the  object  of  the  book  is 
to  supply  in  simple  form  a  clear  statement 
of  the  flagrant  wrongs  of  the  Dingley 
Tariff.  He  admits  that  prior  to  1890 
competition  among  domestic  producers 
reduced  the  price  of  commodities  con- 
siderably below  the  highest  mark  of  the 
tariff  barrier,  but  that  for  the  last  seven 
years  the  trusts  have  suppressed  that 
competition  and  in  many  cases  are  now 
extorting  from  consumers  the  prices  that 
prevailed  for  similar  products  in  the 
fifties,  before  the  discovery  of  rich  ore 
fields  in  the  United  States  or  the  advent  of 
labour-sa\ang  machinery  and  the  wonder- 
ful development  of  scientific  processes. 
The  first  eighty-five  pages  of  the  volume 
are  devoted  to  a  consideration  of  the  trusts, 
and  the  conclusion  is  that  in  the  United 
States  they  are  an  outcome  of  the  protec- 
tive tariff,  and  they  tend  to  drive  the  people 
towards  socialism.  American  and  Eng- 
lish shipping  affords  an  interesting  com- 
parison, and  chapters  are  given  over  to 
manufacturers,  labourers  and  farmers, 
to  a  history  of  the  United  States  tariff,  to 
the  tariff  in  Germany  and  to  how  England 
got  free  trade.  A  remedy  for  conditions 
in  the  United  States  is  suggested :  "Throw 
down  the  tariff  wall  which  encircles  every 
trust  which  is  selling  its  domestic  product 
at  high  prices  and  at  the  same  time  selling 
in  foreign  markets  at  lower  prices  than 
at  home,  and  let  the  trust  contend  with 
the  full  stream  of  international  commerce. 


614 


THE    CANADIAN    IVIAGAZINE 


If  it  continues  to  exist  it  will  be  because  it 
sells  its  products  at  home  for  cheaper 
prices  than  the  cost  of  the  imported 
foreign   product." 

rr 

A  NEW  BOOK  OX  IRELAND 

0\\'ING  to  present  political  tendencies, 
the  Earl  of  Dunraven  sees  now  a 
imique  opportunity  of  gradually  impro\ing 
the  whole  economic  and  social  circum- 
stances of  Ireland,  of  effecting  a  whole- 
some change  in  the  relations  between 
England  and  Ireland,  and  of  greatly 
strengthening  the  whole  fabric  of  the 
British  Empire.  In  his  recent  book 
entitled  "The  Outlook  in  Ireland:  The 
Case  for  Devolution  and  Conciliation" 
(London :  John  Murray,  Albemarle  Street) 
he  sets  down  in  an  unimpassioned  wa}'  the 
condition  of  Ireland  as  he  sees  her,  and  in 
fact  gives  to  all  who  are  interested  in  this 
great  political  problem  of  the  time,  a  con- 
cise and  luminous  account  of  the  various 
things  that  bear  upon  it  and  have  to  be 
considered  in  connection  wath  it.  The  work 
cannot  be  regarded  as  an  impartial  de- 
fence of  what  is  popularly  known  as  the 
Irish  cause,  for  this  most  eminent  Irish- 
man admits  racial  and  national  weak- 
nesses, and  in  a  foreword  says:  "It  is 
hoped  that  the  volume  may  serve  a  bene- 
ficial purpose  in  e.vplaining  the  present 
social,  political  and  industrial  condition 

of  Ireland and  ^\ill  prove  of  ser\'ice 

during  discussions  of  Irish  afifairs."  He 
regards  the  present  situation  as  the  most 
critical  in  the  histor}-  of  Ireland,  and  in 
fact  that  the  fate  of  the  Emerald  Isle  is  in 
the  balance.  He  frankly  admits  that  the 
burden  of  responsibility  for  the  future  of 
Ireland  rests  less  upon  the  Government 
and  the  people  of  Great  Britain  than 
upon  the  inhabitants  of  Ireland.  "By  the 
exercise  of  self-control,"  he  says,  "by 
bearing  in  mind  the  legislative  limitations 
of  any  Government  in  dealing  with  re- 
form, and  with  aU  phases  of  an  intricate 
problem;  by  preserxing  the  peaceful 
condition  of  the  countr}-,  and  refusing  to 
lend  themselves  to  any  form  of  unconstitu- 
tional agitation,  they  can  give  the  Gov- 
ernment the  powerful  assistance  which  is 
essential  for  the  successful  fulfilment  of 
the  policy  to  which  they  are  committed." 


The  Earl  of  Dunraven  points  out  that  it 
is  necessary  for  Ireland  to  meet  the 
"predominant  partner"  half-way,  and  to 
show  a  desire  to  become  an  active,  pros- 
perous, useful  member  of  that  partnership; 
to  put  aside  sectional  quarrels  and  ani- 
mosities of  class;  to  cultivate  a  sense  of 
proportion  and  recognise  limitations;  to 
be  practical  and  have  the  wisdom  to  seize 
an  opportunity  which  might  never  occur 
again  to  give  their  common  country  a 
chance  to  re-establish  herself.  But  re- 
sponsibility is  not  all  on  Ireland.  The 
people  of  Great  Britain  are  told  that  their 
great  fundamental  mistake  has  been  the 
attempt  to  turn  Ireland  into  England. 
It  is  observed  that  with  marvellous  but 
mistaken  pertinacity  England  has  labour- 
ed to  anglicise  Ireland  for  some  eight 
hundred  years  and  has  failed.  "They" 
(the  P^nglish),  it  is  argued,  "must  realise 
that  they  cannot  anglicise  Ireland;  and 
having  admitted  that  fact,  they  will  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  they  must  pro- 
ceed to  work  on  other  Hues." 

tr 

JACK  LONDON  AGAIN 

TACK  LONDON  is  so  much  before  the 
J  reading  public  just  now  that  it  seems 
to  be  almost  necessary  in  order  to  be  at 
all  in  touch  with  the  latest  books  to  know 
something  about  his  writings.  It  is  a 
question  now  of  whether  his  latest  novel, 
"Before  Adam, "  is  attracting  more  atten- 
tion than  the  charge  that  he  is  an  out-and- 
out  plagiarist.  He  himself  does  nbt  seem 
to  resent  the  charge  of  plagiarism,  for  he 
admits  that  every  writer  must  draw  from 
.some  source  of  inspiration,  and  that  if 
in  his  work  entitled  "The  Call  of  the 
Wild,"  which  is  fiction,  he  took  material 
from  a  scientific  work,  he  was  quite  justi- 
fied in  doing  so.  In  "Before  Adam,"  he 
has  simply  given  another  practical  appli- 
cation of  that  opinion.  If  in  Darwin's 
"Origin  of  the  Species"  there  is  no  fiction, 
Jack  London  has  come  to  the  rescue  of 
those  who  think  there  should  be  and  has 
produced  a  work  of  imagination  that 
certainly  out-Darwins  Dan\in.  He  bases 
his  narrative  on  the  assumption  that 
human  beings  even  to-day  are  afi'ected  by 
occurrences  in  the  Hfe  of  primitive  man, 
and  that  in   his  particular  and  freakish 


THE    WAY   OF    LETTERS 


til5 


case  the  actual  thoughts  and  doings  of  an 
extremely  early  progenitor  are  accurately 
recast  in  him  through  theagencyof  dreams. 
In  other  words,  he  explains  that  the  fre- 
quency with  which  individuals  dream  of 
falling  is  an  indication  that  their  remote 
ancestors  lived  in  trees,  from  which  they 
sometimes  fell,  not  always,  however,  to 
the  ground,  but  sufficiently  far  to  terrorise 
them  and  to  transmit  the  impression  to 
posterity.  Dogs  often  turn  round  and 
round  before  lying  down.  That  action 
is  said  to  be  an  ancestral  transmission, 
the  wild  dog  having  tramped  round  and 
round  to  lay  out  a  bed  for  himself  in  the 
grass  or  shrubs.  And  so  Jack  London, 
assuming  the  peculiarities  of  a  freak,  tells 
a  tale  as  it  has  been  revealed  to  him  re- 
peatedly in  his  dreams.  He  simply,  in 
this  manner,  affords  an  opportunity  to 
give  his  conception  of  man  in  his  embry- 
onic state.  The  work  is  pretty  well  done, 
but  one  can  scarcely  refrain  from  think- 
ing that  more,  particularly  in  quaintness 
and  picturesqueness,  might  have  been 
made  out  of  the  material  at  hand.  Nothing 
very  pretentious  is  attempted;  the  book  is 
a  straight,  fairly  convincing  narrative, 
the  substance  of  which  nevertheless 
afforded  an  opportunity  for  poetical 
treatment,  an  opportunity  that  was  not 
seized.  That,  however,  is  not  a  reflection 
on  the  merit  of  the  stor}'  as  a  means  of 
entertainment,  for  it  must  be  admitted 
that  this  extremely  fanciful  and  theoretical 
novel  offers  an  effective  divertisement. 
Ha\nng  read  it,  it  is  natural  to  expect 
that  if  the  author  is  the  dreamer  he 
pretends  to  be  he  wall  in  time  give  us  the 
various  stages  in  the  development  of  man 
from  the  time  of  Big  Tooth,  the  chief 
character  in  "Before  Adam,"  down 
through  the  ages  even  to  the  days  of  Jack 
London  himself. 


THE  GERMAN  EMPIRE 

'T^O  students  of  political  economy,  no 
■'■  country  offers  a  more  fertile  or  more 
interesting  field  than  Germany,  particu- 
larly the  German  Empire.  The  revela- 
tion contained  in  the  memoirs  of  Prince 
Hohenlohe  aroused  the  interest  of  the 
whole  civilised  world,  but  apart  from  any- 
thing of  a  sensational  order  such  as  the 


publication  of  the  memoirs,  the  system  of 
government  under  the  Kaiser,  particularly 
in  view  of  its  intricate  and  delicate  nature, 
is  of  increasing  importance  and  signifi- 
aince.  Mr.  Burt  Estes  Howard,  Ph.D., 
has  written  a  book  of  about  450  pages  on 
this  absorbing  subject,  which  has  recently 
been  published  by  the  Macmillan  Com- 
pany of  Canada,  Limited.  An  idea  of  the 
comprehensiveness  of  this  volume  may  be 
formed  from  the  fact  that  fifty-three 
pages,  making  about  fifteen  thousand 
words,  are  devoted  to  the  armed  forces  of 
the  Empire.  This,  of  course,  is  an  im- 
portant subject,  for  the  German  army  is 
regarded  as  one  of  the  most  highly  or- 
ganised forces  of  defence  in  the  world.  A 
history  of  the  founding  of  the  Empire  is 
given,  together  with  a  comprehensive 
treatment  of  the  status  of  the  individual 
States,  the  position  of  the  Kaiser  and  his 
relation  to  the  constitution;  in  short,  the 
volume  discusses  the  German  form  of 
government  in  detail,  and  is  a  valuable 
addition  to  literature  of  its  class. 

NEW  POEMS  BY  DR.  EATON 

THE  Lotus  of  the  Nile"  is  the  title 
of  an  attractive  new  volume  of 
poems  by  Re\'.  Arthur  \\'entworth  Eaton 
(New  York:  Thomas  Whittaker).  Apart 
from  his  active  ministerial  duties,  Dr.  Eaton 
has  devoted  a  good  deal  of  his  time  to  liter- 
ary pursuits  and  has  produced  a  number  of 
creditable  volumes,  among  them  "Poems 
of  the  Christian  Year,"  "Acadian  Legends 
and  Lyrics,"  and  "Poems  in  Notable 
Anthologies."  His  latest  volume,  how- 
ever, is  likely  to  even  add  considerably  to 
his  present  reputation,  for,  while  bearing 
out  the  rich  promises  of  his  earlier  works, 
there  is  a  more  subtle  appreciation  of  the 
technique  of  poetry,  while  nothing  has 
been  lost  in  music  or  rhythm.  Dr.  Eaton 
strikes  a  new  and  vibrating  chord  in  "By 
the  Bridge,"  when  he  writes  in  part  as 
follows : 

With  subtlest  mimicry  of  wave  and  tide, 
Of  ocean  storm,  and  current  setting  free, 

Here  by  the  bridge  the  river  deep  and  wide. 
Swaying  the  reeds  along  its  muddy  marge 
Speedstothewharf  the  dusky  coaling-barge, 

And  dreams  itself  a  commerce-quickening  sea. 

Here  is  a  stanza  from  another  poem, 
"The  Whaling  Town": 


616 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


Adze  and  hamnier  and  anvil-stroke 

Echo  not  on  the  shore, 
The  wharves  are  crunibUng,  old  and  gray, 
.    And  the  whale  ships  come  no  more. 

THE  WHITE   DARKNESS 

OEEMIXGLY  it  remained  for  Mr. 
^  Lawrence  Mott  to  seize  the  oppor- 
tunity presented  by  the  Canadian  North- 
west Mounted  PoUce  for  a  setting  for 
short  stories  of  an  original,  virile,  attrac- 
tive character.  Generally  speaking,  noth- 
ing but  the  bare  outHnes  of  many  a  roman- 
tic and  stirring  adventure  had  reached  the 
reading  pubhc,  coming  mostly  from  news- 
paper accounts  and  official  reports  made 
to  the  Government.  But  Mr.  Mott  saw 
something  more  than  the  dr\^  facts,  as 
shown  by  a  series  of  short  stories  recently 
pubhshed  by  the  Outing  Publishing  Com- 
pany of  New  York,  and  entitled  "The 
White  Darkness."  The  title  is  that  of 
the  first  story  in  the  volume,  and  was  sug- 
gested by  what  is  sometimes  called  snow- 
blindness.  The  book  contains  in  all  six- 
teen stories.  The  spirit  and  atmosphere 
of  the  West  and  North  pervade  the  book 
from  cover  to  cover,  and  the  narratives  are 
well  provided  with  colour  and  action.  The 
t}-pical  French-Canadian  is  frequently 
portrayed  and  likewise  la  Canadienne. 
Some  readers  might  be  inclined  to  think 
that  a  few  of  the  incidents  and  adventures 
recorded  are  quite  improbable,  but  those 
who  know  anything  about  the  inside  his- 
tory- of  the  Northwest  Mounted  Police, 
will  not  question  in  that  respect.  One  of 
the  striking  things  in  the  collection  is 
"The  Taking  of  Almighty  Voice,"  an 
event  of  record  in  the  histor}-  of  the 
Dominion. 

X3 
A  NEW  BOOK  BY   DR.  FUNK 

"TjR.  T.  K.  FUNK,  Editor  in  Chief  of 
-^^  the  Standard  Dictionary  and  author 
of  "Widow's  Mite  and  other  Psychic 
Phenomena ,"  has  published  a  new  book 
entitled  ''The  Psychic  Riddle,  in  which  a 
controversial  subject  at  the  present  time  is 
considered  in  a  consenative,  careful  man- 
ner. Dr.  Funk  claims  that  he  is  not  a 
spiritualist  in  the  recognised  sense  of  the 
term,  but  that  he  has  been  interested  in, 
and  has  mven  a  srreat  deal  of  time  and 


study  to.  Psychic  research,  beUeving  it  to 
be  one  of  the  greatest  sciences  of  the  time. 
An  impression  has  got  abroad  that  he  has 
discovered  a  store  way  to  communicate 
with  the  dead,  and  as  a  result  he  is  over- 
whelmed with  correspondence  asking  for 
information  on  the  subject.  He  quite 
rightly  says: 

"Many  people  resort  to  mediums  who 
often  deceive  them- — sometimes  intention- 
ally, sometimes  unintentionally.  Others  seek 
to  become  psychics  without  knowledge  of 
the  laws  or  conditions  under  which  such 
powers  are  exercised,  and  frequently  become 
hopelessly  entangled  through  the  power  of 
suggestion  or  other  more  or  less  unknown 
forces  of  the  human  soul — madness  often 
lies  that  way.  To  experiment  with  the 
forces  of  electricity  or  X-ray  without  any 
knowledge  of  the  governing  laws  or  condi- 
tions involved  or  any  scientific  training 
would  be  folly." 

In  the  book.  Dr.  Funk  suggests  an  en- 
dowment of  at  least  a  milHon  dollars  to  be 
used  in  engaging  a  half-dozen  of  the 
world's  ablest  and  most  progressive  psy- 
chologists to  search  out  and  develop  a 
number  of  sensitives  or  psychics  which 
would  be  guarded  against  the  temptations 
of  public  medium.«.hip  by  salaries  that 
would  support  them.  In  this  way  it 
would  be  hoped  to  oVjtain  absolutely  re- 
liable experiments. 

u 

A  CATCHY   NAME 

A 'LITTLE  Brown  Mouse"  is  the  at- 
tractive title  of  a  new  novel  by 
Madame  Albanesi  (Toronto:  The  Copp, 
Clark  Company,  Limited).  The  story 
deals  in  a  graceful  and  charming  way  with 
aristocratic  life  in  rural  England.  In 
work  of  this  kind  the  author  is  at  her  best, 
and  that  is  saying  a  good  deal,  for  Madame 
Albanesi  has  already  attained  a  splendid 
reputation  as  a  writer  in  such  works  of 
fiction  as  "Capricious  Carohne."  "Susan- 
na and  Ore  Other,"  and  "The  Brown 
Eyes  of  Man-."  In  "The  Little  Brow-n 
Mouse"  one  gets  a  pleasant  peep  into  the 
social  atmosphere  that  is  surcharged  with 
interest  and  not  a  little  mysterj-. 

A  TALE  OF  THE  SEA 

PERHAPS   no   present-day   writer  ap- 
peals so  much   to  boys  as  Frank  T. 
BuUen,  w-hose  tales  of  adventure  at  sea 


THE    WAY   OF   LETTERS 


017 


are  absorbing  and  wholesome,  and  full  of 
the  go  and  vim  thai  appeals  to  adults  as 
well  as  to  youths.  One  of  his  latest  books 
is  entitled  "Frank  Brown,"  and  is  pub- 
lished by  the  Copp,  Clark  Company, 
Limited,  Toronto.  It  is  purported  to  be 
a  picture  of  life  at  sea,  in  what  are  claimed 
to  be  absolutely  true  colours.  At  any 
rate,  the  experiences  of  Frank  Brown,  who 
starts  out  as  a  ship  api)rentice,  are  indeed 
thrilling  and  picturesque. 

X3 

A   WORK   OF   NOTE 

A  BOOK  of  more  than  ordinary  in- 
terest to  cultured  and  academic  cir- 
cles has  just  been  published  by  William 
Briggs,  Toronto,  for  Professor  G.  J. 
Blewett.  It  is  entitled  "The  Study  of 
Nature  and  the  Vision  of  God,  with  Other 
Essays  on  Philosophy."  The  publica- 
tion of  this  work  had  been  awaited  with 
considerable  interest  by  many  who  were 
fortunate  enough  to  know  something  about 
Dr.  Blewett's  capabilities,  and  it  is  safe  to 
say  that  they  have  not  been  disappointed 
with  the  result.  The  author  recently  as- 
sumed the  Professorship  of  Philosophy  in 
Victoria  College,  Toronto,  from  which 
institution  he  was  graduated  about  tw-elve 
years  ago,  winning  the  Governor-Gener- 
al's gold  medal,  the  piece  de  resistance  of 
the  University  of  Toronto.  Dr.  Blewett 
had  also  a  brilliant  post-graduate  career, 
studying  at  Harvard,  where  he  obtained 
the  degree  of  Ph.D.  and  the  Rogers 
memorial.  Subsequently  he  extended  his 
studies  at  Oxford  and  in  Germany.  For 
several  years  he  was  Professor  of  Phil- 
osophy in  Wesleyan  College,  \Mnnipeg. 

Dr.  Blewett's  volume  is  distinguished 
by  the  excellent  English  in  which  it  is 
written,  an  excellence  that  is  based  not 
only  on  loftiness  of  expression,  but  as  well 
on  its  admirable  clearness  and  appre- 
ciableness.  It  is  not  often  that  men  who 
are  used  to  delving  into  the  abtruse  prob- 
lems of  the  universe  are  able  to 
bring  themselves  out  of  the  obtuse  term- 
inolog}^  of  the  philosophers  and  set  down 
for  the  edification  of  those  who  are  un- 
familiar with  the  subject  ideas  and  con- 
ceptions which  in  professional  discussions 
would  be  entirely  confusing  to  minds  un- 
trained in  that  respect.     It  is  gratifying  to 


see  a  work  of  this  kind  come  from  the  pen 
of  a  Canadian,  and  it  is  scarcely  too  much 
to  predict  that  what  Dr.  Blewett  has  writ- 
ten will  long  remain  as  an  incentive  to 
those  who  might  otherwise  lag  in  what 
some  wrongly  regard  as  dry,  unprofitable 
paths.  The  book  contains,  besides  the 
title  essay,  several  other  essays  of  equal 
attractives,  among  them  "The  Meta- 
physic  of  Spinoza,"  "  Plato  and  the  Found- 
ing of  Idealism,"  and  "The  Theism  of 
St.  Thomas." 

U 

NOTES 

— "Canada's  Opportunity"  is  the  title 
of  a  review  of  Butler's  "  Great  Lone  Land 
in  its  Relation  to  Present  Day  Conditions 
and  Future  Prospects,"  by  Major  Roljert 
Larmour  (Toronto:    William  Briggs). 

— Lieut. -Col.  E.  Cruikshank,  author  of 
"The  Story  of  Butler's  Rangers,"  has  just 
collected  and  edited  "The  Documentary 
History  of  the  Campaign  upon  the  Niagara 
Frontier  in  the  year  1813,  Part  VII,"  for 
the  Lundy's  Lane  Historical  Society.  It 
is  an  important  volume  to  all  students  of 
Canadian  history  and  is  well  put  together 
by  the  Tribune  Press  of  Welland. 

— A  volume  of  unusual  interest  has  been 
issued  from  the  library  of  the  University 
of  Toronto,  entitled  "A  Tragedie  of 
Abraham's  Sacrifice."  It  was  first  writ- 
ten in  French  by  Theodore  Beza  and 
translated  into  English  by  Arthur  Golding 
in  1575.  The  University  edition  is  edited 
with  an  introduction,  notes  and  an  ap- 
pendix containing  the  Abraham  Sacrifiant 
of  Theodore  Beza,  by  Malcolm  W.  Wal- 
lace, Ph.D.,  lecturer  in  English,  University 
College.  Toronto.  The  original  volume 
containing  the  translation  has  become 
exceedingly  rare,  but  a  copy  is  in  the 
Bodleian  Libra rv. 

—"How  Doth  the  Busy  Spelling  Bee ? " 
is  the  title  of  a  little  book  of  clever  satire, 
by  OwenWister  (Toronto:  TheMacmillan 
Company  of  Canada,  Limited).  Mr.  f 
W'ister  is  an  extremely  able  writer,  and  is 
well  known  as  the  author  of  "The  Vir- 
ginian" and  "Lady  Baltimore."  As  the 
title  of  his  little  book  indicates,  the  text 
deals  with  spelling  reform,  or'  rather, 
spelling  reform  is  made  the  mark  of  his 
satire. 


A  WARNING  FOR  THE  EXTREMISTS 

TT  is  refreshing  to  hear  a  note  of 
■*■  warning  to  Americans  from  one  of 
themselves,  from  one  whose  voice  should 
be  heard.  Mr.  Franklin  Pierce,  a  mem- 
ber of  the  New  York  bar,  has  just  pub- 
lished a  volume  entitled  "The  Tariff  and 
the  Trusts,"  and  in  the  concluding 
chapter  he  takes  occasion,  in  suggesting 
a  remedy  for  the  oppression  that  he 
attributes  to  the  tariff  and  the  trusts,  to 
say:  "What  we  must  have  in  this  country 
if  its  institutions  are  to  be  saved  is  a  re- 
birth of  patriotism.  The  patriotism 
which  we  need  is  of  an  entirely  different 
quality  from  that  which  demagogues 
describe.  Like  the  Chinese,  we  have 
been  indulging  so  long  in  exultation  over 
our  greatness,  we  are  instructed  so 
thoroughly  in  the  idea  that  our  form  of 
government  is  perfect,  that  we  have  come 
to  believe  that  somehow  it  will  perpetuate 
itself,  and  that  we  may,  without  fear  of 

invasion  of  our  rights,  go  to  sleep Let 

it  become  the  fashion  of  the  new  patriotism 
to  bravely  tell  the  facts  against  us  as  well 
as  for  us.  Let  us  see  our  faults  while  we 
hug  our  \nrtues.  Self-complacent  dreams 
of  sanguine  optimism  blind  us  to  the  real 

duties  of  patriotism Can  the  Sons 

and  Daughters  of  the  Revolution  find  any 
better  field  for  patriotic  labour  than  in 
seeking  a  rebirth  of  patriotism  which  \\-ill 
free  our  country'  from  a  burden  a  hundred 
times  more  oppressive  than  the  slight 
taxes  which  led  to  the  Revolutionary 
War?  Let  men  in  all  walks  of  life  gather 
into  societies  and  cultivate  a  newpatriotism 
without  which  the  spirit  of  liberty  y\-ill  be 
destroyed  in  this  country." 

That  man  is  talking  common  sense,  and 
no  people  in  the  world  should  heed  what 

618 


he  says  more  than  the  people  of  the  United 
States.  The  egotism  and  carping  boast- 
fulness  of  Americans  as  a  people  is  notor- 
ious, and  has  become  so  marked  a  national 
characteristic  that  it  is  doubtful  whether 
an3'thing  less  than  extreme  national  humil- 
iation will  serv-e  to  check  it.  It  has  been 
urged  in  these  colimins  before  now  that 
Canadians  should  not  be  too  prone  to 
extol  the  \irtues  of  the  Dominion  or  of  the 
Empire  and  to  forget  national  weaknesses 
or  national  hindrances.  Taking  it  all 
round  we  have  in  Canada  a  pretty  good 
patriotism  and  a  pretty  good  loyalty;  but 
we  Hve  close  to  a  nation  where  false  and 
unbridled  patriotism  prevails  and  whence 
influences  are  bound  to  come.  It  is  only 
natural  that  we  should  ^^•ish  to  exchange 
thrust  for  thrust  and  taunt  for  taunt. 
But  that  is  the  spirit  of  the  schoolyard. 
WTiat  is  required  of  our  public  men,  of  our 
politicians,  of  our  educationists  and  of 
the  press  of  the  Dominion  is  not  a  fostering 
of  prejudice  or  unbounded  optimism,  but 
an  antidote  to  demagogism  and  jingoism, 
so  that  we  may  have  a  well-controlled, 
wholesome,  properly-grounded  patriotism 
and  a  loyalty  of  sense  as  well  as  of  heart. 
But  we  cannot  have  these  things  by  doing 
by  others  as  they  do  by  us.  We  must 
practise  the  Golden  Rule,  hard  as  it  some- 
times must  be.  Canada  is  still  young, 
and  it  is  not  too  late  for  her  people  to 
cultivate  moderation  and  those  \'irtues 
that  \v\\\  shield  her  from  charges  of 
braggery  and  intolerable  egotism. 

A  DEGRADATION  OF  ART 

WE  live  in  an  age  of  imitation.  There 
are  some  original  things,  but  every 
new  idea  is  so  much  copied  and  changed 
and  re\ised  that  even  the  real  thing  itself 


AT   THE    FRONT    WINDOW 


(HO 


causes  annoyance.  Should  a 
writer  happen  to  pubHsh  a 
novel  that  leads  into  un- 
frequented fields,  it  is  amazing 
how  soon  the  new  ground  will 
be  beaten  smooth  and  the  nice 
things  that  the  discoverer  had 
expected  to  keep  all  to  him- 
self ruthlessly  seized  upon  by 
the  parasitical  horde.  Art 
likewise  offers  plenty  of  op 
portunity  for  the  copyist. 
The  old  masters,  who  clung 
to  legitimate  art,  have  left 
opportunities  only  for  legiti- 
mate copying,  but  the  modern 
artists  who  come  out  with 
fads  and  catch-eye  drawings 
have  given  chance  to  a  class  of 
traducers  to  whom  words  like 
art  and  originality  have  no 
meaning.  A  good  example  of 
the  degradation  of  art  may 
be  seen  these  days  in  the 
picture-shops  and  book-stores. 
Almost  every  one  who  moves 
about  has  seen  a  much- 
reproduced  picture — a  little 
child  sa>dng  a  prayer  at  a 
bedside,  \\ath  two  or  three 
dolls  in  the  same  attitude. 
That  is  a  pleasing  picture, 
and  it  requires  no  inscription  to  tell 
its  meaning.  But  it  was  a  new  idea, 
and  because  it  had  "taken  on"  the 
coppsts  set  to  work  and  soon  produced  a 
number  of  travesties.  Perhaps  the  most 
offensive  of  these  depicts  a  child  at  a  bed- 
side in  the  same  attitude  as  the  original, 
but  instead  of  a  refining  sentiment  and  a 
suggestion  of  childish  adoration,  we  see 
a  youngster  \\ith  a  brace  of  pistols  in  belt, 
repeating  these  words: 

Dear  Lord, — 

As  Dad  ain't  here  to-night, 
I  guess  you'll  have  to  keep 
Awake  and  see  that 
Things  are  right, 
While  I  am  fast  asleep. 
But  if  you're  busy  and  forget 
To  tend  to  what  I've  said, 
And  burglars  come, 
You  need  not  fear — 
I'll  shoot  'em  full  of  lead. 

If  art  has    ever    been    degraded    anrl 


The 


Hu.N.    L.   J.    TWEEDIE 
new  Lieutenant-Governor  of  New  Brunswick 

sensibility  outraged,  surely  here  we  have 
an  instance  of  it. 

u 

DISTINCTIONS  IN  HEROISM 

WE  have  our  Henry  Harpers,  our  John 
:Maynards,  and  our  long  list  of  life- 
savers,  some  of  whom  have  perished  and 
some  of  whom  have  not,  but  in  all  the 
scroll  of  honotu-  no  name  will  have  a 
more  abiding  place  than  Sarah  Maxwell's. 
Miss  Maxwell  lost  her  life  in  an  attempt 
to  save  some  children  while  a  fire  raged  in 
the  Hochelaga  school  at  Montreal.  Hers 
was  genuine  heroism,  and  her  name  is 
entitled  to  an  equal  place  with  that  of 
Grace  Darling.  A  fitting  monument  of 
so  notable  a  self-sacrifice  will  undoubtedly 
be  raised. 

Heroism  has  a  wide  compass,  and  many 
are  honoured  with  the  name  who  are  not 
worthv  of  it  in  its  highest  sense.     It  has 


620 


THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 


HO.\.   \VIH,..i;,i    i'Lv-.,-L^V 
The  new  Premier  of  Xew  Brunswick 

been  said  that  those  who  risk  their  lives, 
hoping  and  expecting  to  escape,  do  not, 
even  though  they  perish,  perform  so  noble 
an  act  as  those  who,  in  order  to  save  a 
fellow,  face  death,  knowing  that  there  is 
no  hope  for  themselves.  That  assertion 
is  by  no  means  final.  Few  persons  would 
doubt  that  John  Maynard,  as  he  stood  at 
the  helm  driving  his  vessel  towards  shore, 
expected  to  land  with  the  passengers. 
Undoubtedly  Harper,  -when  he  jumped 
into  the  break  in  the  ice  at  Ottawa,  expect- 
ed to  rescue  Miss  Blair.  Yet  who  would 
say  that  the  heroism  of  these  two  men  was 
not  so  great  as  it  would  have  been  had 
there  been  no  hope  of  escape  for  either  of 
them?  Headlong  thrusting  into  the  very 
jaws  of  death,  for  the  sake  of  a  good  cause, 
gives  a  promise  of  glory  that  is  surely  more 
inspiring  than  the  call  of  duty  with  a 
doubtful  outcome.  The  balance  there- 
fore seems  to  be  in  favour  of  the  one  who 
risks  life  but  hopes  to  .save  it.  Neverthe- 
less the  person  that  sets  aside  personal 
feeling  or  sentiment  and  gives  heed  onlv 


to  the  call  of  duty  is  worthy 
of  high  and  unqualified 
honour.  That  apparently  is 
what  Miss  Maxw-ell  did. 


A  CHANCE  TO  ENCOURAGE 
ART 

pROM  the  standpoint  of 
■'-  many  of  the  artists  of 
Ontario  it  is  perhaps  a  good 
thing  to  be  able  to  say  that 
the  last  exhibition  of  the 
Ontario  Society  of  Artists 
was  by  no  means  an  evidence 
of  the  best  work  that  can  be 
produced  by  the  members  of 
that  association.  While  the 
exhibition  all  round  was  about 
the  average  in  quality,  some 
of  the  best  artists  were  repre- 
sented by  inferior  work. 
Such  artists  as  Challener, 
Atkinson,  Bruenech,  Manley, 
Watson,  have  been  so  occu- 
pied in  various  ways  that 
they  scarcely  took  time  to  do 
anything  for  the  exhibition  that 
would  be  worthy  of  serious 
consideration.  But  at  the  same  time  they 
wanted  to  be  represented,  and  so  they 
dashed  off  something  and  sent  it  in.  It  is 
to  be  regretted  that  men  who  should  be 
leaders  at  the  exhibitions  are  satisfied  with 
a  mere  representation.  If  these  artists 
would  make  a  point  during  the  year 
of  doing  something  seriously  for  the 
O.S.A.,  the  annual  exhibitions  would  be  of 
much  more  interest.  Naturally,  the  best 
things  are  kept  for  the  Academy,  but 
that  should  not  prevent  the  Ontario  artists 
from  taking  a  genuine  intere.st  in  what 
is  more  particularly  their  ow^n.  It  is  a 
pity  there  are  not  in  connection  wth  these 
exhibitions  some  really  attractive  prizes 
at  the  disposal  of  a  competent  group  of 
judges.  The  result  would  be  a  spur  to 
the  artists,  not  only  because  of  pecuniary 
gain  but  because  also  of  the  distinction 
that  would  attach  to  the  winners.  Here 
is  an  excellent  chance  for  some  one  who 
wishes  to  encourage  art  at  home  in  some 
better  way  than  by  simply  buying  home- 
made pictures. 


AT    THE    FRONT    WIxNDOW 


lr21 


CO-OPHRATIO\    A.MONCi    FARMHRS 

1"*HK  less  indeijendent  a  man  is,  the 
more  likely  is  he  to  respond  to  the 
call  for  united  effort,  and  so  when  the 
farmers  begin  to  co-operate  it  is  pretty- 
good  evidence  that  the  spirit  of  union  has 
taken  firm  hold  of  the  people.  Although 
it  may  not  be  a  proverb,  it  is  an  old  and 
true  saying  that  the  farmer  is  the  most 
independent  of  all  men.  Almost  every 
other  calling  feels  the  need  of  mutual 
endeavour  more  than  his,  and  yet  his 
looks  like  the  calling  in  which  co-opera- 
tion would  most  readily  and  most  natur- 
ally flourish.  But  it  is  his  indej^endence 
that  has  so  long  kept  him  in  the  single 
furrow.  Doctors  co-operate  in  the  ac- 
complishment of  a  common  desire. '  So 
do  lawyers,  and  carrying  companies  and 
merchants  and  manufacturers  and  trades- 
men, workmen  and  craftsmen  of  all  kinds. 
But  it  was  not  until  quite  recently  that 
farmers,  at  least  Canadian  farmers,  be- 
gan to  realise  the  immense  advantage  they 
could  derive  from  co-operation,  and  the 
growth  of  this  sentiment  and  the  power 
that  it  will  yet  wield  will  afford  a  most  in- 
teresting study  in  economics.  The  farm- 
ers are  beginning  to  see,  slowly  it  must  be 
admitted,  what  an  immense  influence  they 
could  jointly  exert  on  the  destiny  of  the 
nation.  ThoSe  who  are  what  might  be 
called  specialist  farmers,  are  the  first  to 
realise  the  importance  of  these  facts,  and 
it  is  a  noticeable  fact  in  the  evolution  of 
farming  that  spdcialising  is  coming 
more  and  more  into  favour.  One  farmer 
makes  a  specialty  of  small  fruits;  another 
of  tree  fruits;  another  of  raising  hogs; 
another  of  fat  cattle;  another  of  high-class 
breeding  cattle;  another  of  horses;  an- 
other of  dairying;  and  so  on.  And  when 
a  number  of  fruit  growers,  for  instance, 
get  together  and  learn  that  by  co-opera- 
tion they  could  save  a  large  percentage  of 


MR.    SAINT    N.    SING 

A  Hindu  journalist!  who  is  studying  conditions 
in  the  western  hemisphere 

the  money  spent  on  transportation,  com- 
missions and  the  like,  they  begin  to  realise 
that  it  is  high  time  for  them  to  abandon 
the  old,  independent  policy.  Take  as  a 
specific  instance  the  fruit  growers  of  the 
Niagara  Peninsula.  A  few  years  ago 
they  "were  all  shipping  their  products  in- 
dependently of  one  another;  now  many 
of  them  together  ship  as  one  man.  Their 
peaches  and  grapes  and  other  fruits  go 
out  in  car  lots  instead  of  in  lots  of  a  few 
crates  or  packages.  They  are  largely 
independent  of  the  commission  merchants; 
they  can  handle  their  products  with  much 
less  fear  of  loss,  and  they  are  able  to  get 
just  about  all  that  they  are  entitled  to 
from  the  railways.  What  a  change  there 
will  be  when  the  farmers  realise  what  an 
immense  power  they  might  be  politically! 


A  BROKEN  JUG 

WHEN  Henry  May  came  home  from 
the  States  after  serving  two  years  in 
the  Army  of  the  North,  he  brought  with 
him  two  things — a  decided  limp  and  an 
unquenchable  thirst.  Strange  as  it  may 
seem,  one  of  these  helped  to  overcome 
the  other,  that  is  to  say,  Henry's  pension 
money  went  as  far  as  possible  toward 
slaking  that  undying  thirst. 

It  was  during  one  of  Henry's  "dry 
spells,"  on  which  the  heaviest  rain  had  no 
effect,  that  the  idea  occurred  to  him  to  try 
for  Sporty  Alec's  standing  reward  of  S5. 
This  w^as  to  be  given  to  any  man  who 
could  get,  without  cash  pa>Tnent  in  ad- 
vance, even  a  single  glass  of  any  beverage 
from  "Close"  John,  the  ^^llage  hquor 
dealer.  Originally  this  had  been  a  bet, 
but  so  many  takers  had  failed  to  move 
the  stony  heart  of  "Close"  John,  that 
Alec  felt  safe  in  putting  the  odds  down  to 
5  to  o. 

Five  gentlemen  at  ease  were  resting 
at    the   summer   resort   in   the   clump   of 


AN    OLD-FASHIOXED    EATIXG-HOUSE    AT    DRESDEX,    ONT. 

622 


cedars  by  the  river  bend  that  bright  Jvme 
day. 

Henry  left  them  and  made  his  way  past 
the  rear  of  several  stores  and  drew  from 
its  hiding  place  a  narrow-necked,  wide- 
bellied,  white  pitcher,  known  as  a  fre- 
quent traveller  between  "Close"  John's 
and  the  grove.  Before  rejoining  Alec,  he 
paused  for  a  few  moments'  conversation 
with  the  village  druggist  at  the  back  door 
of  the  drug  store.  S^ 

Together  they  crossed  the  street.  The 
opening  conversation  was  brief.  "  Beer  ?" 
asked  John. 

"Yes,"  said  Henrv. 
"Full?" 
"Yes." 

"  Got  the  money  ?  " 
"  Ye-es." 

John  descended  to  the  dark  cellar,  but 
when  he  came  up  with  the  jug,  the  money 
was  not  forthcoming.  Then  Henry's 
latent  powers  of  conversation  burst  forth. 
He  tried  all  sorts  of  blandishments,  made 
all  kinds  of  promises.  John  was  inex- 
orable. 

"If  ye  haven't  the 
money,  I'll  jist  pour 
it  back,"  and  down 
he  went.  ^ 

A  couple  of 
minutes  later  the  de- 
feated pair  were 
traveUing  the  usual 
roundabout  path  to 
the  grove. 

"What  did  I  tell 
you?  I  told  you  so!" 
jeered  Alec  repeat- 
edlv. 

There  was  no  re- 
ply, but  Henry  wore 
the  air  of  a  man 
burdened  ^\ath  a 
secret  and  carried  the 
pitcher  as  if  it  con- 


IDLE    MOMENTS 


623 


tained  something 
more  than  thin  air 
with  a  beerish  per- 
fume. 

In  the  recesses  of 
the  cedar  grove  sat 
five  men  in  a  circle. 
One  held  a  tin  pail 
under  a  big-bellied, 
narrow-necked,  white 
pitcher.  Another  took 
up  a  smooth,  round 
stone  and  carefull}' 
yet  ruthlessly  cracked 
the  white  pitcher  in 
two.  The  swelling 
sponge  which  drop- 
ped into  the  pail 
squeezed  out  two 
"Close"  John's  best  beer.  They  made  it 
go  round,  and  the  "dr}^  spell"  was  over, 
for  Sporty  Alec  promptly  paid  the  reward. 

— Don  Graeme. 


MRS.  SEYMOUK    HICKS    (MISS    ELLALINE    TERKISS),    BABY     BETTY 
AND    MR.    SEYMOUR    HICKS 


full      glasses     of 


A   TASTE   FOR  LITERATURE 


IN  PASSING 
Jake    Cheatem,    the    sport,    has    quit 
drinking.     He  bought  a  plaid  suit  and  it 
put  a  check  on  his  stomach. 

Henry  Spokenot,  the  deaf  and  dumb 
vocalist,  could  not  appear  at 
the  concert  last  night  as  he 
broke  his  voice  on  his  wife's 
jaw. 

I.  Plantem  has  faced  death 
over  a  thousand  times.  He's 
an  undertaker. 

A  German  paper  states  that 
an  artist  painted  cobwebs  on 
his  ceihng  so  truthfully  that 
the  servant  girl  wore  herself 
into  an  attack  of  nervous  pros- 
tration trying  to  sweep  them 
down.  There  may  have  been 
such  an  artist,  but  there  never 
was  such  a  servant. 

A  man  was  recently  shot 
and  killed  while  out  hunting 
through  being  mistaken  by 
someone  for  a  deer.  He  died, 
game. 

Last  week  Patrick  O'Be- 
gobs  tried  to  subdue  a  Hon 
bv  the  power  of  the  eye.  The 
coroner's  verdict  has  not  yet 
been  made  public. 

Carrie  Nation  once  smashed 
four  saloon  windows  \\'ithout 


624  THE    CANADIAN    MAGAZINE 

being  observed,  but   got   arrested   while  Barb:  " My  brother  has  only  two  hairs 

smashing  the  fifth.     She  took  a  glass  too  left  on  his  head." 

much.  Wire:  "Only  two?" 

Barb:  "Yes.     He  calls  one  'a  fool '  and 

Jingo  Seaweed  is  no  years  old  and  has  the  other  one  'his  money'." 

never  used  glasses — he  always  drinks  out  Wire:  "Whv?" 

of  a  bottle.  Barb:  "Because  they  are  soon  parted." 


XJ 


-The  Kazooster. 


THE  TIP-TOPICAL  SONG 

(Air:  "Peace,  Peace") 
["I  cling  to  the  Topical  Song!" — From  the  dicta  of  Mr.  Paul  Rubetts] 

[^HERE'S  a  craze  nowadays  for  the  musical  plays; 
■■•      The  success  they  enjoy  is  enormous; 
They're  inconsequent  quite,  but  we  love  them  in  spite 

Of  the  critics'  attempt  to  reform  us. 
Though  they've  got  little  plot,  it  don't  matter  a  jot — 

It  makes  room  for  a  popular  item; 
For  the  topical  song,  if  things  ever  go  wrong. 
Is  invariably  certain  to  right  'em. 

Cling,  cling  to  the  topical  song, 
And  the  piece  will  run  gaily  along; 

There  is  nothing  that  "grips" 

Like  some  suffragette  quips 
In  a  typical,  topical  song. 

When  the  best  little  jest  has  been  voted  a  pest. 

And  the  comic  man  can't  raise  a  titter, 
When  the  baritone,  too,  has  been  met  with  a  boo 

From  the  galleryite  and  the  pitter. 
When  they've  tried,  O  ye  pride  of  the  South  London  side. 

With  but  little  effect  to  burlesque  you, 
Then  some  Rajah  of  Bhong  with  a  topical  song 

Will  come,  turban  and  all,  to  the  rescue. 

Cling,  cling  to  the  topical  song, 

And,  they  say,  you  can  never  go  wrong; 

For  the  rest,  though  abused. 

Will  be  quickly  excused 
By  a  typical,  topical  song. 

If  you  try  to  aim  high,  you  will  go  all  awry. 

And  you  won't  pay  the  theatre's  rental; 
Therefore  quash  all  your  cjualms;    shove  in  sheltering  palms; 

Make  the  atmosphere  quite  oriental. 
Let  a  man  (in  Japan)  sing  some  phrases  ihat  scan. 

Setting  forth,  say,  the  afternoon's  winner 
(For  that's  always  thought  smart,  though  of  course  it's  not  Art — 

But  whoever  wants  Art  after  dinner?). 

Cling,  cling  to  the  topical  song. 

And  the  run  of  your  play  will  be  long; 

Every  author  that's  wise 

Knows  the  kudos  that  lies 
In  a  typical,  topical  song!  — Punch. 


5!5 


^™"^*'^*"™™""™" 


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