nations. His duties probably included display as well as address, for his viceregal staff was a large one, and it was popularly attractive, amongst other reasons, because the uniform worn by the military officers was the regulation uniform of the staff of the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. Canada appeared to receive what Canadians like, consideration and promotion. The women of Canada are not unlike the women of Ireland, whom Lever describes, "they admire the infantry, love the cavalry, and doat on the staff." As a community we are by no means free from the influence of sentiment, and this influence is very commonly promoted by a reasonable display of vice-regal glare and dazzle. It is, we think, a mistake to suppose that Canadians have any special liking for republican simplicity in their rulers. On the contrary, they prefer the externals of majesty in those who represent their Sovereign. If the English people have little taste for "Gig" bishops, the Canadians have less for what we suppose is the American equivalent, viz., "Buggy" governors. There was a singular charm in the manner of Sir Charles Bagot. It arose partly from the social advantages to which he was born, but chiefly, as we venture to think, from the training he had acquired in the school of diplomacy. He had the faculty of finding out what one knew, and he had the patience to put up with a communication of such knowledge. The habit was a graceful one, and probably arose from his practice as a diplomatist: a class which we have been told is instructed to learn as much, and tell as little, as possible.

Sir Charles Bagot's character was straightforward, and his administration won golden opinions from all classes. Unfortunately his rule was of short duration, for he died at Kingston after a residence in Canada of only fourteen months. His charms of manner were shared by his family, for those who are old enough to remember Lady Mary Bagot and her daughters will not be apt to forget

how bright and attractive it was possible to make an evening party, even at so small a capital as the little town of Kingston

Sir Charles Bagot was succeeded by Lord Metcalfe, the latest and the best example of Personal Government, for, unlike Lord Durham, his administration was paternal withcut being despotic. His example was full of instruction. We saw the highest duty cheerfully performed in the presence of excruciating agony patiently endured. Suffering and cheerfulness were inseparable companions, for the continual presence of disease, together with the near approach of death, seemed to make no impression on his resolve to do what he believed to be his duty to the last.

Lord Metcalfe's character as a politician appeared to have two dissimilar sides. Judged by his writings English Radicals might claim him as their own, and so far as his opinions related to public questions in the United Kingdom the claim should be allowed. Nevertheless the Liberals of Canada found him more Conservative than his Tory predecessor, Sir Charles Bagot. Their cause was seriously thrust backwards by the interpretation which he put on the constitutional relationship of the Governor to his advisers and to Parliament. The old tangle of Sir Francis Head's day was revived and in an aggravated form. "The duties of the Crown could not be put into commission." "Responsible Government could not mean the transfer of the rights of the Sovereign to a body of gentlemen who were not directly responsible to the Sovereign." "The power to appoint the Queen's servants in a British colony devolved on the Queen's representative." "The patronage of the Crown was a matter of prerogative of which the Governor could not divest himself.” It was a trust which he held directly from the Queen, and which he could not delegate to others. Lord Metcalfe was quite willing to take the advice of his Ministers when he required it, but he was by no means bound to

seek it when he did not want it. It was a matter of option and not of duty, on the necessity of which he alone was the competent judge. Opinions such as these placed an impassable barrier between himself and his Ministers. Only one course was open to them, of which, with the exception of Mr. Secretary Daly, they took the earliest advantage. They resigned their offices, and, with their party, went into opposition.

A dissolution of Parliament took place, and the issue raised for the last time was Personal Government against Responsible Government. Lord Metcalfe's character was a tower of strength to those who supported the former view. His integrity, his benevolence, and his charity, for he never "turned his back on any poor man," or withheld his contribution from any good object, were infinitely serviceable to him, and provoked a degree of support which could scarcely have been looked for. Besides, Responsible Government as it is now interpreted, had scarcely been accepted by the Tory party. Many thought with "Tiger" Dunlop, that it really was "a trap set by knaves to catch fools." Whatever it was it had resulted in their exclusion from power, and in the substitution of men whose allies to a great extent had sympathized with, if they had not supported, acts of rebellion against the Queen's authority in Canada. The loyalty cry was raised with more than usual effect, while the alleged disaffection of the Liberals was described in language of inexcusable exaggeration. Anger and violence marked the elections. The name of the Governor

General was used in a manner neither to be excused nor repeated, for the labours of those who had sought to build up constitutional government in Canada appeared to be thoroughly lost. The temporary result was a slight, and, as it turned out, a short lived triumph for Personal Government, but his Excellency's advisers had a trying time of it, as we have little doubt Mr. Chief Justice Draper could inform us if he would favour the public with an extract of his recollections.

Lord Metcalfe was only able to open and to close the first session of the new Parlia ment. The concluding words of his last speech were very touching, and, under the circumstances, equally pathetic. "May you enjoy," said his Lordship, "all the rights and privileges of a free people, and experience the prosperity, contentment and happiness which are naturally derived from unfettered industry, prudent enterprize, good fellowship and brotherly love. And now, gentlemen, with the heartfelt wish that you may be partakers in these blessings, I will say farewell until we meet again.”

That meeting, however, was not to take place. The hand of death was too visibly laid upon him. He was obliged to ask Her Majesty's permission to resign his trust and return to his native land. He arrived in time to see once more the grand old oaks of Berkshire and to lay down his brave life in the place he had loved so well.

Thus died the "First and last Lord Metcalfe," and thus ended what we have termed PERSONAL GOVERNMENT in Canada.

IN

N the far distant North, where, during the mild summer nights, the sun seems to forget to sink to rest, there lived on a high mountain a very old man. His long beard and snow-white hair were of wondrous beauty, and his clear blue eyes were bright and radiant. He was well known and dearly loved by old and young, and as the oldest dwellers in that part of the country remembered having seen him in their childhood exactly as he appeared now, all were firmly convinced that there was something marvellous about him.

Round about his little cottage bloomed plants the like of which were to be seen nowhere else in this region, and consequently he was styled by many "the old kitchen gardener." He was frequently absent on long journeys, and ever, on his return, all the trees, shrubs and flowers in the surrounding country would bloom with renewed beauty and fragrance.

"I should not be at all surprised," said a youth thoughtfully, "if he was a holy gardener whom God has sent to discover where, in this world, those flowers bloom which are hereafter to be transplanted into Paradise."

The old man, though apparently possessed of nothing, was the benefactor of the whole country-side. He was the physician of the sick, he played the violin for the dances of the young folks on the village green, and related pretty fairy tales and legends to the eager children.

Thus approached the beautiful leafy midsummer day. The sun stood like a golden shield on the outskirts of the forest. The

dissimilar, bowed their glowing crimson cheeks and clasped hands as they met in a quiet, loving embrace. The people had ascended the mountain in order to see the sun, at this season visible all night long. The old man had received many visitors. He stood at his cottage door and appeared glorified in the gorgeous sunlight. A stranger approached him.

"Do you dwell up here, my father?" he inquired, and presently they entered into an animated conversation.

But the children of the surrounding villages crowded round the old man, eagerly watching their opportunity to engage his attention. Presently he greeted the gay country people most courteously, and prayed them to be seated on the soft lichen. Then he looked round the little circle.

"How are your little blue flowers getting on, Annie?" he gently asked a young girl.

She blushed and looked down. “They have closed their pretty petals and their leaves are withering," she answered, turning pale; "but, just as I was leaving home a few were beginning to unfold their leaves again."

"Tell me the reason of this," said the old man. "You know, my father," pursued the young girl, "that the wonderful flowers which you gave me, unlike other flowers, do not close their petals at sundown, or even on the approach of rain, or cold and stormy weather, but only at such times as the sun of love is overcast, or when one is in a bad humour."

“Well, I was unkind towards my brother," continued the girl ingenuously; "we had quarrelled, and confidence no longer reigned between us. Then I became aware that a sort of hoar-frost had fallen upon the leaves of my little blue flowers. But this morning I passionately reproached my mother with having allowed the bouquet, which Eric brought me yesterday during my absence from home, to wither by neglecting to put it in water. My mother's feelings were greatly hurt, and she looked very sad. I went to the window, and behold, I saw that all the blue flowers had closed their leaves. When I began to weep, however, and heartily to repent my behaviour, they commenced slowly to unfold again."

"The root is fresh and healthy," said the old man, "but pay attention to the tender, sensitive leaves; they do not speak a great deal."

The old man now observed that little Eva looked dejected, and that her eyes were red with weeping. "What grieves you, my child?" he inquired tenderly. "Oh!" answered the little one, and began to sob afresh, "I had a little hedge outside the window, on which the red, white and blue convolvuli blossomed most beautifully! Now they are all dead! Lisa poured a bucket of hot water over them. I would not weep so bitterly for them now if they would only go to God, but I asked the pastor and he says no."

And Eva burst out weeping again.

"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Eva, "and when these girls die and become angels, the little flower spirits follow them to paradise. Is it not so?"

"Yes, indeed, it is so. God sent you a liitle sister a short time ago-look at her and see if the spirits of your flowers have not wandered to her."

Eva smiled. “Surely, she has clear blue eyes and a little rosy mouth," she said, joyously.

The old man arose. "Dear friends," he said, and a peculiar smile hovered on his lips, "you all look so serene and happy now, how will you all appear forty years hence ? When that period of time shall have elapsed, I will visit you again and ask you whither the roses of your cheeks have fled. I am well aware that to a certain extent the advancing years must rob the cheeks of their lovely tints, but yet a very great deal depends upon yourselves. In some way you must strive to protect your roses against Time and his encroaching power."

Although not fully comprehending his actual meaning, they stretched forth their hands and bade him, as well as the stranger, a kind and hearty farewell.

Many, many years passed away, and it was once again the evening of a midsummer day.

In a beautiful little house in the country sat a happy woman. 'Tis true time had already sown some silvery threads among the masses of her wavy hair, and robbed her delicate cheek of some of its rosy tints. Her eyes, too, no longer sparkled with the fire of

"Well, then, listen," continued the old man; "the spirits of the pretty blue forgetme-nots go into the clear eyes of good girls; those of the beautiful, white virgin lilies dwell upon their pure brows, and the spirits of the crimson roses glow upon their cheeks."

There was a knock at the door, and the old man from the mountain entered. He was all unchanged, he had the same awe-inspir