there can be no doubt that he had practically in the last resort a veto on the Canadian portion of the Treaty, since his declared dissent would have rendered it impossible for the British Ministry to obtain the acquiescence even of their own followers in the British Parliament. Not only so, but, whereas the Treaty is not submitted for ratification to the Parliament of Great Britain, it is, by a special provision, submitted for ratification to the Parliament of Canada, which is thus, in this instance, treated with more consideration than the Supreme Legislature itself. That, in deciding on the acceptance or refusal of the Treaty, the Canadian Parliament is morally bound to have regard to Imperial as well as to Colonial interests is perfectly true; but that the Canadian Parliament was not intended to have a real voice in the matter is a statement which can hardly be made in good faith, and which, at all events, is totally unfounded.

There is more reason in the allegation, that it would have been better to keep the case of the Alabama claims and that of the Fisheries distinct, and to make them the subject of separate negotiations. But the case of the Alabama claims cannot be treated as one in which Canada has no concern. So long as we are a part of the Empire, all Imperial questions are Canadian and all Canadian questions are Imperial. If we say that we have nothing to do with the Alabama, the people of Great Britain will say that they have nothing to do with the Fisheries, and the unity of the Empire will be dissolved. The awkwardness of the double diplomacy is manifest; but a double diplomacy is inevitable where two communities, each having national interests and questions of its own, are combined under one Crown. Compensation must be looked for in the other consequences of the connection.

Without discussing again the merits of the Canadian portion of the Treaty, we may safely say that any charge against the Moth

er Country of a deliberate sacrifice of the interests of the Colony is sufficiently rebutted by the favourable reception of the Treaty among a considerable section of our own people. We have already referred to the fact, which cannot be doubted, that Great Britain might have purchased immunity for herself by abandoning her North American Colonies. But not only was the proposal never entertained by her, the most distant allusion to it was always met on her part with scornful indignation.

The conduct of our Mother Country towards her Colonies may not have been faultless, but for a generation, at all events, it has been free from serious blame, and at the worst of times it was better than that of any other mother country in history, unless we think fit to except those parent states, which, like the States of Ancient Greece, left their colonies independent from the beginning, and thus escaped all the difficult and angry questions, which the connection with a distant and adult colony cannot fail to breed. Of this the condition of the British Colonies, trained as they are to selfgovernment, and ripe with all the elements of a powerful nationality, is at once the most decisive and the noblest proof. The colonial expenditure of Great Britain may not have been up to the standard of ideal self-sacrifice, but it has been tenfold greater than that of any other country, and it has been sustained under a load of debt and taxation, which constitutes not only a fiscal burden, but a grave political danger, as the popular outbreak caused the other day by the match-tax proved. The little island has done great things, in proportion to her size, for herself and for her children; she has secured to her children the amplest, fairest, and most hopeful heritage in the world, and held it for them, during their minority, against the world's arms. But there is a limit to her power. To say that she has become a cypher in the council of nations is absurd: prostrate France

implored her mediation, and imperilled Belgium eagerly accepted her guarantee. Her strength, so far from having declined, is at this moment greater than ever. But the strength of her rivals has increased, and she is no longer, as at the close of the Napoleonic war, sole mistress of the seas. She is threatened by the jealousy of European powers, by Russian aggression, by American rancour, and burdened with the exigencies and anxieties of that vast and multifarious empire, of which, after all, the North American Colonies are but a part. This is a state of things calling on her side for frankness,

and on our side for deliberation. But let us not degrade Canada in the eyes of the world by joining with the enemies of the empire in calumnious disparagement of a mother country, of which, on the whole, we have good reason to be proud, and our kindly relations with which will always be valuable to us, even in a material point of view, and as the source of our best immigration, whatever our political destiny may be. It is possible that the hour of Canadian nationality may be drawing near. If so, let us prepare to found the nation, not in ingratitude, but in truth and honour.

OU need not be surprised, old friend;

You

with all your Greek and Latin, you will never captivate a lady's heart. If you do not wish to be overlooked in society and kept constantly in dread of throwing down, with your elbow, the tea-service from the sideboard; or if you do not choose to remain in danger of repeating again all the little blunders you have lately perpetrated in company, you must have recourse to the only way of escape, that is, you must learn fencing and dancing.

This moral lecture I received from one of my friends many years ago, after I had confessed the awkwardness of which I had been guiltyto the delight of some ladies on a previous evening, at the party of Professor Rh. But my friend did more for me than this. He gave me the address of a certain French refugee, who called himself Monsieur Fernand; and certainly there appeared to be nothing better for me than to pay a visit to this Doctor of Politeness. I

instruct you," said Monsieur Fernand while he buckled her shield, and tied the mask before her face. "Now in position! Julie, in position! So!" Julie acted with great ease and gracefulness. She seemed to have inherited this from her father. "Now, will you please, look at Mademoiselle's hand, not at her eyes. That you may do, when you are more proficient. Now, on your guard. Well done! Quarte, so, tierce! Not so high. That is too high. That is too high. Now, thrust!" I did so as skilfully as possible, while Julie, the foil in her left hand, let the fingers of her right glide along on my sword to support the crossing of the blades, just like an old fencer. "Ah bah! Monsieur!!" said the old gentleman, "you are not so expert yet as to be dangerous to Mademoiselle. Once more now! More force with the upper part of the body. Mademoiselle will save herself. So! Now quarte! Thrust! Parry! That's better. Once more!"

It was very disagreeable for me to strike forcibly against the breast of a girl, but she was my instructor, and I could do nothing else.

We went through all the passades, Julie always in the right position, always parrying with grace and skill, so that I soon discovered Julie could fence just as well as her father, Monsieur Fernand.

The old gentleman's leg had not improved during the next week, and Julie gave me my lessons. My eyes soon began to seek hers behind the wire mask. I had improved under her instructions so far as to be able to cross blades in a regular attack. And I noticed, in these encounters, the childlike, careless expression of her face vanished, and that an expression of womanhood came over her countenance, The eye had not the staring inquisitiveness of the child, or the steady glance of the trained fencer, but that strange restlessness sometimes seen in a deep, glittering, dark eye.

One day the old gentleman himself instructed me. It chanced that I had brought with me a little box of chocolate, which I gave to Monsieur Fernand. He ate a few pieces and handed the box to his daughter, while he gave me my fencing lesson. Julie remained in the room to be in readiness for the dancing lesson. When the fencing was over, "Now for my chocolate," said my instructor. At these words Julie started as if she had been in a deep dream.

"But,

child,” said her father, laughing, and looking into the box, "you have eaten all the chocolate! Coquine! What a little epicure you are.”

She blushed; the tears came into her eyes; but she uttered not a word.

"There! I have broken a string,” said the old man, tuning his violin. "Julie, go and fetch me a string. No-I will go myself. You would not find them. I beg your pardon a minute, Sir, Mademoiselle will play a piece on the piano till I return.”

The old gentleman left us, and Julie sat down at the piano. When I opened it, she said to me with tears in her eyes, "You must think me very fond of dainties."

I answered laughing: “Did you finish the whole box ?"

"It is true," said she, hesitating; “but I have not eaten anything else since Sunday, but a small piece of bread; and yesterday I ate nothing at all."

"For Heaven's sake, child, what do you say? Nothing to eat since Sunday! You'll destroy yourself! at your age!"

"At my age? We had nothing to eat; for after the servant had done, nothing was left ** "Poor, poor child! and I, the wretch, have not paid your father yet. Why did your father not tell me he was

- !"

"Monsieur Fernand would sooner die of hunger," she replied, with the air of a princess. "I will pay your father immediately, fool that I am! I might have read it in your face." "Do I look so starved ?" she said, with a sad look.

"Poor child!" said I embarrassed. "Poor child!"

"Child? I am seventeen, Monsieur." "Really? How sorry I am. But I'll speak to you."

"For heaven's sake, not now," she cried. “I never would have said a word, but I could not bear your regarding me as a greedy child.— Promise never to say a word about this to my father. He would never forgive me."

"You may rely upon me, Mademoiselle," I answered.

Monsieur Fernand returned. A new string had been supplied, and he played with the usual kindly expression on his face. Julie and I danced.

ment! The gentleman is here to learn dancing, not to dance for pleasure. Plus machinalement, more quietly, more quietly, comme ça!" So we danced to the tune of the violin. But as soon as we danced with more animation than was necessary for the object of instruction, we were restored to propriety by the old gentleman's plus machinalement.

At the end of the lesson I told Monsieur Fernand that I should very likely leave town for a few days, and begged him to accept the fee for the lessons.

"But Monsieur forgets," was the reply. "The courses are not yet finished, therefore there is no need to pay now."

"But you would oblige me very much if you would allow me to do so; for it is unpleasant for me to leave the town without paying my debts."

"Bien," answered my instructor; and put the gold pieces, with the greatest nonchalance, into his vest pocket. His manner was so dignified, that I could have laughed to myself, if I had not heard Julie's sad story. I left, and watched for a little at the street corner. After a short time the servant left the house of Monsieur Fernand, with a basket, and returned, bringing what I had expected-a basket-full of victuals. I returned home with a light heart, and promised to myself to protect Julie, at least, from hunger.

After about eight days I returned to continue my lessons. The change was remarkable: Julie was a virgin, a blooming virgin. Almost magical was the change which the food had effected. Her dress, too, had been changed, and rendered more suitable to her age. Monsieur Fernand did not show the least change. He was dignified, but affable as ever. When his leg permitted, he instructed, and I fenced with him, while Julie played. Afterwards I danced with Julie, and her father played; but very often we were interrupted by the old gentleman's "plus machinalement, Julie !"

In this way a few months passed, till one day Monsieur Fernand said to me: "Sir, you may now discontinue your lessons; for you are an excellent fencer, only you must continue to practise a little for some time; but I cannot take your money any longer; for you can learn nothing more from me." I urged him strongly to give me another course, as I wished to learn

how to disarm an adversary. "Very well, Sir, one course more; but my arm is now as stiff as my leg; Mademoiselle must therefore teach you. Julie's hand is as firm as steel. If you are able to disarm Mademoiselle you are a complete fencer."

I came to my lessons as formerly, but without the old interest. I was entirely changed, How had it happened? Well, the reason was this: one evening while visiting some relations, I had met a young lady, looked too deeply into her brown eyes, and had been caught in her net. I thought of her, and dreamed about her night and day. Fencing and dancing, as well as everything else, lost interest for me. Before the last lesson, I met Monsieur Fernand and his daughter on the street. I bowed in recognition. "Who was that?" said my betrothed, whom I had taken out in that capacity, for the first time.

"My fencing master and his child,” I answered.

"His child!" was the somewhat lengthened reply.

"Well then, his daughter. I take my last lesson to-morrow."

"Ah!" said my betrothed, and was unusually quiet during the remainder of the day.

The next day I went to Monsieur Fernand's and met Julie alone. The old gentleman had a visitor. He came in only for a moment, and politely excused himself. Julie had no mask over her face, and stood opposite me, with the rapier in her right hand.

"Well, Julie," said I-we lately had called each other by our Christian names-this is the last lesson."

"My name is Mademoiselle Fernand. Who was that fair haired lady in your company yesterday?"

"Well, a lady," said I, somewhat bewildered, but attempting to laugh, "who in two months will become my wife. But what is the matter, Julie? Are you ill?" "O, no! Nothing is amiss."

"But why without masks to-day?"

"We do not always fight like children, Monsieur," she answered, with a hard voice.

I threw away my mask. We commenced; I was perfectly collected, but she seemed to be very excited. Her attacks were violent. With eagerness she rushed upon me. In parrying