Memories of Canada and Scotland - Speeches and Verses
by John Douglas Sutherland Campbell
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But empty the cave was at morning, When searched for the murderer's trace, And the ghost came again in the darkness, The gore on its breast and its face. "Inverawe, Inverawe," again whispered The shade of the echoless feet, "My blood has been shed, I await thee, At Ticonderoga we meet."

And often in wonder repeated That warning to many was known, The strangely named place for the trysting Men said was in dreamland alone; "Why cherish a dismal illusion? War summons gay hearts to the strife: All share in the prizes of glory, The chances of death or of life."

In camp, on the march, in the battle, His thought would repeat evermore, "At the place fore-ordained in the vision I shall pass to the Dark River's shore." And often awaiting the summons, He asked for the wild Indian name, When curled o'er American hamlets The smoke from the guns' sudden flame.

The forest one evening was silent As though in the calm of a trance Yet within it two armies were resting, The soldiers of Britain and France. Our Highlanders slumbered, march-wearied, Their sentries at watch in the wood: Behind their long lines of entrenchment The French in their bivouacs stood.

"Inverawe, take your sleep ere the morning, When our praise or our death shall be sung," A comrade cried; "soon for Carillon A chime that is new shall be rung!" But the air of that night of midsummer Seemed chilly, and sleep fled away; And he wandered to where, near Carillon, The charge would be sounded at day.

To the North a pale ray of Aurora Shot white o'er the black forest spars, A lake through the pines softly gleaming Lay calm in the radiance of stars. It seemed a sweet heaven, whose brightness Life's dark prison-bars could not hide: As he gazed, lo, he thought that a figure Advanced from that silvery tide.

Distinct as a luminous shadow, It moved in the starlight alone, Till it came to him close, and he shuddered, For the face that he saw was his own! The cloak of the dread apparition His own, but bedabbled in blood! Inverawe stretched his hand, but the spectre Had vanished like mist in the wood.

To the fires of his comrades returning, "Ah! friends, you deceived me," he said; "Why conceal from my ears that Carillon Has the name that was named by the dead? 'Tis Ticonderoga, the fortress We march on the morrow to storm, Where Death and the Phantom stand watching The hour when our column shall form."

The morn brought the hell of the onset, When bayonet and Highlanders' blade Sank crushed where the trenches were flashing In the roll of the long fusillade. Repulsed! O how sadly at night-fall The remnant was gathered and told! In silence they thought of the wounded, And mourned the brave hearts that were cold.

Ere thundered again the dim battle Saluting the deathless in God, A truce found that Leader all gory, Yet gasping his breath on the sod. They bore him to camp, where around him They pressed as he beckoned in pain: His voice seemed a breath in the forest, "I die—I have seen him again."


Ah! must we part, my darling? O let the days be few, Until your dear returning To one who loves but you! Where'er your ship be sailing, Think on your own love true; The back of the wave to you, darling, The back of the wave to you!

The witch, who oft at midnight Above Ben Caillach flew, Told me she dreamed no danger Athwart your vessel drew; For you she said the breezes Aye strong and fairly blew; The back of the wave to you, darling, The back of the wave to you!

Ah! waiting here, and trembling When dark the water's hue, I'll long for the dear pleasure That in your glance I knew; And pray to Him who never Can lose you from His view. The back of the wave to you, darling, The back of the wave to you.


Best beloved of ancient stories Are our Diarmid's woes to me. Like a mist, by breezes broken, So this tale of olden glories Floats in fragments, as a token Of the song of Ireland's sea.

Through long centuries repeated Lived the legend told in Erse, But a change comes swift or slowly Fades the language, and defeated Flies the faith, once counted holy, Old-world ways, and oral verse.

Not from men of note or learning May we gather now these tales, Heard beneath the cotter's rafter, Or where smithy sparks are burning, Or at sea, when hushed the laughter Of the breeze on hull and sails.

Then with Ossian's rhythmic Measure Comes upon the fancy's sight, One with golden locks; resplendent, Great and strong with eyes of azure, And, again in the ascendant, Magic reasserts her might.

Nought can wound him, sword or arrow, Only powerless are the spells Where on the footsole implanted There is hid a birth-mark narrow, But this hero's brow enchanted Every woman's love compels.

Woe to him, that she whose glances Won the king on Denmark's shore, Evil, beautiful, imperious, Born where wheel the grisly dances Through the glen of ghosts mysterious, Love's first passion for him bore.

For she saw his forehead bending O'er the snarling dogs at strife At the wedding-feast of greeting; And at dusk unto him wending, "Come," she said, "let this our meeting Pledge my soul to thee for life."

"If, O queen, we go together, Not with friends, nor yet alone Must thou be, nor sheltered ever, Housed, nor braving wind and weather; If on horse or foot, then never Can thy love to me be known!"

Flight were shield and fence far surer Gainst a wily woman's ways Than the wit of man; for seated Ere the dawn, his fair allurer At his open door repeated All his words, with longing gaze.

"Go with me, O Diarmid; see me Not on horse, or foot; with friends, Nor alone; not night or morning Reigns: O come; thou wilt not flee me? Never lived a warrior scorning Every joy that loving lends!"

Then at last by her caresses Into flight and guilt beguiled, Diarmid loathed his life, abiding In the caves' or woods' recesses, Like a thief or coward hiding, To his fate unreconciled.

Thus the mightiest magician Warped the true and loyal heart, And he fled with her, forsaking. Friends and kinsfolk, while contrition Gnawed into his life's days, making Sad his journey, hard his part.

He, a fugitive, whose valiance Made the Feinne fair Erin's boast! Where the red cascade descended, Lovely Grinie's evil dalliance Held him thrall as though were ended Noble warring with the host.

He a slave! whose oaths had ever Bade him "champion the oppressed," Pledged him to "confound the clever, Aid the losing man's endeavour, Be the first in fight, and never Heedless of the king's behest"

Once upon a rock, tree-shrouded, Hungry they had climbed to eat Where the scarlet berries clustered: Suddenly below them crowded Dogs and huntsmen, 'til were mustered All the Feinne beneath their feet.

Fionn, then, their grim commander, Dreaming not his wife was near, Had a giant chess-board graven On the sod, and played; and under The green leaves which gave him haven Diarmid watched the game in fear.

Oscar lost, with Fionn playing, Until Diarmid, from on high Dropped the scarlet seeds to guide him, Thus his presence there betraying: And the friends of Fionn eyed him, Shouting, "Thou shalt surely die!"

But all Diarmid's comrades for him Fought, each venturing his life: And amid the dread commotion Fled the twain, until before him To the peaceful sands of ocean Ran a woodland stream of strife.

Dwelling on its banks he made him There the wooden bowls that none Fashioned with the dirk so deftly. But the chattering stream betrayed him: From the secret forest swiftly Flashed white shavings in the sun.

Then the king cried, "Grinie's lover Near us hath his lurking place! Sound the hunting horns around him! See if from the thickets' cover By the ancient vows that bound him He shall come to join the chase!"

* * * * *

How the queen bore his upbraiding; How his death in hunting came, Tell the verses here translated: Lights are they, in transit fading, Scattered sparks, oblivion fated, Memories from a mighty flame!



The Hern at early morning cries, Where at Sleve-gail the meadow lies.

Say, Din's son, whom I love well, Canst thou thereof the reason tell?

O! Gormla's daughter, thou whose sire Was named from tireless steeds of fire;

Thou evil-working one! thy feet Tread treacherous ways of ice and sleet.

Grinie! of lovelier hue than Spring To flower, or bloom on bough can bring,

More fleeting far your love that flies Like the cold clouds of dawning skies.

Because of thine ill-chosen part My fortune's firm set rivets start.

Yes, thine the deed, brought low to pain, My grievous woe thine only gain.

From palaces of kings beguiled, For ever outcast and exiled:

Like night-owl mourning, as she strays, Her joy through dark and distant ways.

Like timid hind or hunted deer, Through secret glens I tread in fear.

Shunning the loving friends who hold The house of hosts so loved of old.

Their forms shone glorious as the lights On the deep snows of frosted heights.

All these I left—mine own—whose love Was generous as the Sun above.

But they are now hate-filled as though Hate's sea would never ebb ward flow.

Yes, since beguiled by you I fled, Misfortune follows where I tread.

Lost now my white sailed fleet's array, Through you my band is lost for aye.

Gone all my wealth, my gems, my gold, All for the tale of love you told!

To me my friends are lost, to me No more my country mine shall be.

Lost are my men whom none e'er found Weak behind shield on battle ground.

Lost is their kindness evermore The love for me the Feinne once bore.

Lost to mine honour mine own right, Lost music's joy and lost delight;

Erin and all I there have known, For your ill-omened love alone.

Return I dare not,—may not,—never Know their great friendship, gone for ever.

More than the beast of sharpest beard My deed in hate by Fionn is feared. Yes, fairest Grinie, thou hast done Ill to thyself in love thus won.

Thou, winning hatred, wentst with me, And kingly joys were spurned by thee.


O Diarmid! O Diarmid! of face far more fair Than the new-fallen snow, or the hill flowret rare, The sound of thy voice was more dear to my breast Than all the bright satin the Fianti possessed.

More beloved to me is the hue of thine eyes, Those eyes like the morning's bright dew of the skies, Ay, dearer to me than all strength or all gold The great hall of the king of the Feinne shall e'er hold.

Love's mark is more sweet on thy beautiful brow Than honey that drops where the green grasses bow; Ah, when I beheld it above me, how pale Seemed the glory and power of the Monarch of Fail.

My heart seemed to fall as I looked at thy face, Adoring thy might ever blended with grace, And wert thou not mine, to be gained to my side, Not one day in this world would my spirit abide.

Oh! white-handed hero, so handsome, so strong, Although it is I who have wrought all thy wrong, Yet stay, stay again with me, wife would I be, Vowing never on earth to be faithless to thee.


Why love a woman mild in speech, And yet a traitoress to each?


'Twas misery sundered my life from the king's, I left thee awhile, for love, torturing, stings; Never more will I leave thee-my tender love round thee Like fresh boughs for thy life, would have sheltered and crowned thee.


Fulfil then thy word, though so faithless, how fair! Thy love, oh my Grinie, no giant shall share.

Note.—From Gaelic verse, printed by J. F. Campbell, Esq., in "Leabhar na Feinne."


[Taken from "Leabhar na Feinne," and a prose version written down from oral recitation by J. Dewar.]


This vale of Peace, this glen close by, Where deer and elk would often cry, Of old saw the fleet-footed Fianti bound In the strath of the west as they followed the hound.

List if you wish to hear a lay Of gentle folks long passed away, Of him who was Prince; of Gulban's blue hill, And sorrow-cursed Diarmid's sad legend of ill.


Loved Ossian, sweetest voiced, what day But sees us listeners to thy lay? Such strains from no birds of the shoreland can float, Though dawn give each leaf in the woodland a note.


My own good king was hunting gone, They whom no deerlike terror won, His Feinne, through the secret glens followed, and we Descended the slopes that lead down to the sea.

Then saw our own great king, whose word The Feinne, the brave, obeying heard, A nine folded shaving of wood brightly curled, Shining white, as to seaward the swift waters swirled.

He grasped it, scanning it, the coil Hid five feet and a span of soil; Then loudly he cried, "Ah, Diarmid is here, No swordsman of Cormac, but Diarmid is near!"

In truth, my own good king then swore To break his fast and drink no more, Until were unearthed the vile face of his foe, If the caves of all Erin should refuge bestow.

Our hounds we sent, and shouting went Where o'er the vales the branches bent; The wild-cat we chased from the glens, that the cheer And cries of our hunting might fall on his ear.

He who was never weak in fight Heard the loud voices strike the height; To Grinie he cried, "Though the hounds do not bay, I wait not their voice, to the hunt I'll away."


O Diarmid! wait until they cry, That hunting shout is but a lie, Where grieves for his wife Call's son, there for thee Thou know'st thy peril for ever must be.


Ere hounds can open on the scent, To every chase my steps are bent, And shame were it now for the king's evil will To lose a good hunt as it sweeps o'er the hill.


Then down came Diarmid to the vale, To the famed sons of Innisfail, And glad was the king, for his foe in his sight Came aidless and powerless to baffle his might.

Where o'er his red straths Gulban soars, Were haunts well loved by savage boars, And fine were the knolls on the blue mountain's face, Where oft for King Fionn resounded the chase.

There Grinie's love brought her to shame, 'Twas there the king, with cheeks of flame, Commanded the hunt, and 'twas there Diarmid stood To watch for the boar if he broke from the wood.

Deceit a grievous evil wrought! The monster's ear our tumult caught; He moved in the glen, as from east and from west, The shouting grew louder as nearer we pressed.

Envenomed, old, rage-filled, his jaw Foamed as his eyes the heroes saw, And faster he went, his strong bristles and mane Erect, sharp as darts, strong as wood of the plain;

High reeds that fringed a marsh he found,— Turned on the dogs all baying round, And killed in a moment the bravest, and glared As though to the combat their master he dared.


A huge old boar hastes yonder, mark Of wounding full and bloodstains dark, Now follow yourself, noble Diarmid, there goes A monster of evil and terrible woes.


As quick his way the warrior took, No trembling hand the javelin shook, And hurrying fast as he closed with the boar He rushed as in floodtide the wave to the shore.

Shot gleaming from white hand the spear, Straight through the flank its path to shear, But, splintering there, left the head buried deep; The shaft fell in three as it whirred o'er the steep.

The sword, the olden, he unsheathed That victory in each battle breathed, Then died the great beast on its blade's dripping length; Unweakened, unharmed rose the youth in his strength.

But gloom the monarch's heart oppressed, For from the hillside to the west, He saw how fair Diarmid, unhurt by the tooth, A conqueror stood in the beauty of youth.

He saw the Feinne's loud wandering band, Deep-ringed around the carcass stand, And heard as they praised the good courage and might That vanquished so soon the grim beast in the fight. [The verses in italics are from the prose version received from J. Dewar]

But Diarmid went apart, lest he To praise of self should listener be; That praise was to Conan's vile envy a sting, Whose eye looked for gain to the hands of the king.

A dart in deadly poison dipped Among the rough black hair he slipped, And none could have seen where the bristles o'erlaid The point firmly set of the venomous blade.

Then silent long, the king at last Spake, all his thought to hatred cast, "O Diarmid, now measure the Boar, snout to heel, What length on the ground may the dark hide conceal?"

What man among the Feinne e'er saw The youth from friend or foe withdraw? He measured the back barefooted, and passed Unharmed down the rugged spine, rigid and vast.


"O youth, whose weapons wound so sore, I pray thee prove this yet once more, Whate'er thou desirest I'll give thee, but see, From foot to the snout what the measurement be?" OSSIAN.

Again his sandals he unlaced, And 'gainst the hair he slowly paced, And bare was the foot where alone mortal harm Could strike his limbs guarded by magic and charm.

There at one spot, lifers crimson well Was fenced by no enchanted spell. Ah! if on that death-spot but one vein were rent, How staunchless the flow of lifts fountain unpent!

And fear was on him: as he stepped, A keen pang through his senses swept, For, pierced by the venomous bristle, his sight Saw gloom shroud the mountain, and darkness the light.

Full soon the poison through his veins Ran like a fire with fever's pains, Then sank the bright locks of the warrior brave, Whose face bore in anguish the hue of the grave.

His blood ran fast, as down a hill From some high spring a slender rill; Ah, piteous it was on the brae to behold How the guileless youth lay in his torture untold.

The cheek which shared the berry's hue Which flushes red the hillside's dew, Now blanched, was as cold as a cloud when it lies Blue-shadowed at noon in the vault of the skies.


A drink, one drink, O Fionn, give, One cup to let me drink and live! My blood flows so fast, give me drink from the spring. Oft kind were thy words, the good words of a king!


No! not one cup your lips shall drain, To quench your thirst, to cool your pain! What good is your life to me? what has it won, That the deed of one hour has not more than undone?


Not mine the wish to cause you care, In East or West, not here or there! But Grinie's the evil, when, captive, I found Her love but a shadow, her word but a sound!

A drink, one drink, O Fionn, give, One cup to let me drink and live! My blood flows so fast, give me drink from the spring, Oft kind were thy words, the good words of a king.

FIONN. No cup of mine your lips shall drain To quench your thirst, to cool your pain, What good is your life, can its fair deeds o'erpower The guilt of one act, and the curse of one hour?


If you could think of Sween's dread day— No! vain that memory passed away!— When fell the eight hundred and three, and my sword In the narrow pass drank of their blood as it poured!

When prisoned in the Rowan Hold, Of gratitude your words once told, When the white teeth were wounding your limbs, and your breath Came quick, for the fray brought you near unto death. And yet again your friend was I In Tara when the strife waxed high, Not vainly you sought in that hour for a friend, I fought for thee, king, making Enmity bend;

And Innse's sons, the three, the brave, From lands far hidden by the wave: I killed them for thee, who oppressest me sore; Hard died they, O ruthless one, washed in their gore!

Remember Connell! see again Carbi front thee with his men, To the host of the Feinne see how threatening their gaze: Ah, Gulban, I burn, as I look on thy braes.

If known to Oig's women fair How snared and trapped I here despair, Their mourning would rise, and their men would lament The friend whose sad eyes on Ben Gulban are bent.

I, Diarmid of Newry named, Of Connaught, of Bura famed— Foster son to that Angus of Bro whose stride Revealed the best man on the far mountain side:—

"The Eagle of the Red Cascade"— "The blue-eyed Hawk whom no man stayed"— They called me—"the strongest of all who could throw The stone, or the spear, at our game or our foe."

Then knew he, as his strength grew less That death would end his sore distress; The Feinne stood around, and they pitied the man So weak, once the strongest who fought in their van.

They searched for water, and they found A spring, clear-eyed, in mossy ground, But cup had they none, and their hands, as they went, Let fall every drop ere o'er Diarmid they bent.

In bitterness of soul he thought, "They mock me, now that I am naught, Your kind hands all leak! of your deed men shall tell, The 'spring of holed palms' shall they name yonder well.

"Yet would I ask you, now I die, To lay me where the stream flows by The water of Lunnan, for there in my grave I'll hear, though I see not, its cold shining wave.

"There place a pillar stone, and bear My Grinie some day to me there, And well to the traveller the words shall be known, 'Tis Diarmid who lies 'neath yon Pillar of Stone.

"Oh woe is me! a foul swine's prey, The victor lord of battle's day! I faint, done to death, let me turn, let me lie With my face to Ben Gulban, to see it, and die."—


In tears, and mourning sore, Then to his grave we bore That brave and hardy one; On a green knoll alone, Beneath a mighty stone That sees the western sun.

When Grinie coming there, At last of all aware, Beheld his narrow bed; As though her life took flight, Bereft of sense and sight, She fell, above the dead!

Then from her swoon awoke, Her voice in cries outbroke, And in this song of woe, Wherein his praise was heard In every mournful word, Above the river's flow.


Two in a fastness of rock were concealed, Oft we lay there for a year unrevealed, Though hidden from Fionn by the stream as it leapt, Where it wet not the head of my love as he slept.

In the hunt's contest the keenest to share, Hard was that bed for thy thick golden hair! Never thought he of fear as he sprang to the cry, When the chase was afoot, and he joined it, to die!

Hour of my torture, ochone, how the pain, Sore, and sharp, as at first, smites again and again, Sightless dear eyes, voiceless lips, and the breath Sweet as honey, now lost in the chambers of death!

Sister's son of a king, a monarch high-placed, Victor and friend, once with courtesy graced! Ah what a generous heart to have nursed Vengeance so causeless, a plot so accursed!

Diarmid, O Love, the best sword of them all, Victory flew to the field at thy call; Strongest arm in the games, thou wast ever the best, Whether called to the fight, or to aid the distressed.

Bluer your eye than the blaeberry kissed On the high mountain's shoulder by sun and by mist; Gentler your eyelids' soft motion, than where The upland grass waves to the breezes of air.

Whiter your teeth than the blossoming spray Danced in the winds 'mid the brightness of day; Never harp was so sweet, never bird-song above, As the voice that is hushed on the lips of my love.

Like to the sun-nurtured sparkles of air Were the fair yellow waves of the locks of thy hair, Pure as foam the soft skin of the one of our race, Who was mighty in mind as majestic in grace.

Sad is my heart, to no joy-shout replying, Restless, lamenting in grief never-dying; Oh, the mavis calls sweetly in drear deserts lone, But in vain I must yearn for the notes I have known.

Now shall my soul find its calm nevermore In the depths—the blue depths—of your eyes as of yore, Overborne by a perilous flood I shall know Surcease of no sorrow, no lightening of woe!

Dark is your dwelling-place under the mould, Narrow your frozen bed, songless and cold; Never morn shalt thou see, till the day of God's doom, When awakened, O hero, thou'lt rise from the tomb.

Dead in the earth, and there hidden away, Who shall not yearn for thee, fairer than day? Be my blessing now thine, be it thine evermore, Let it rest on the beauty 'twas mine to adore.


Each bard prepared his harp for singing That calm and lofty hero's praise; Deep sorrow through the long notes ringing, How wild their dirge, how sad their gaze!


Mayest thou be blessed, O thou our fairest Beloved, once to fortune dear, If still for Ireland's Feinne thou carest, See how they wail thine absence here.

O strength, like flood on foemen pouring, Or swoop of eagle from the sky, Or as the rush through ocean roaring When myriads from leviathan fly!

Bura's lord! thy fair locks, waving Hath ceased, pressed down beneath the soil: Thou'rt seen no more the billows braving, No more thou'lt know the hunter's toil.

When blows are rained thy blade no longer Shall strike where clear thy war cry rose, O man, whose love than man's seemed stronger, Whose voice no more high Tara knows.

For thee our eyes are red with weeping, No beauty like to thine have we; Our solace gone, our best are keeping The death watch, bravest soul, with thee.


Yes, fallen all, to leave me living, A leafless tree decayed and grey, Old oaks and young, their green life giving; The strong must fall, the weak must stay!

Yet though to-day so frail, what glory Around my youth once shone of old! Changed world! this poor man, weak and hoary, Was great in war and rich in gold.


(TRANSLATED FROM THE GAELIC. [1]) [1] Taken down in Gaelic by Dewar.

King Arthur on a journey went, His men and he on hunting bent.

Came to the hill for victories known; He, and Sir Balva, armed alone.

The King of Britain dreamed at night Of fairest maid 'neath Heaven's light.

Her face's beauteous hues so clear More than all gold to him were dear.

Yet all unknown where dwelt the maid, His doubt and awe the search delayed.

For better were a battle stern Than, blindly wandering, still to yearn.

Then spoke Sir Balva, kindly, meek, "It is my wish this maid to seek. Let me now take my Squire and hound, And search until the maid be found."

Then seven weeks, with toil and pain, We travelled wearily the main.

No harbour gave our ship a home, No land kept off the drifting foam.

But high above the rough sea wave, We saw a smooth-walled castle brave.

Its gables shone with glass. We laughed, "Ah many a drink-horn there is quaffed."

Then sailing to its base there fell A chain that lashed the ocean swell.

I seized it, fearless, hand o'er hand I climbed upon the frowning land,

And seated on a golden chair, I found a maiden wondrous fair,

Holding a mirror on her knee, Her vesture beautiful to see.

I blest her, whose sad voice replied, "Grief here thy blessing doth betide.

O comer from the sea, thou'lt feel The heart of stone, the blade of steel"

Though merciless he be, yet know, His sword can deal my heart no blow.

His love or hatred I despise If gained the favour of thine eyes.

"The giant's star-white sword alone," Said she, "can wring from him a groan.

O hide thee in some place secure, Or, gallant knight, thy death is sure."

Sir Balva heard the giant roar, "What wave-thrown stranger climbed our shore?"

Her voice replied, "Now come, nor wait, My soul, for thee my love is great.

Put thou thy head upon my knee, I'll sweetly play the harp to thee."

He rested, and a laugh displayed The white teeth of the blue-eyed maid.

The wild harp-music sweetly rung, And sweeter still her tuneful tongue.

And on his eyes, by sea winds fanned, Sleep laid full soon his tranquil hand.

Then took they off his star-white sword And slew the Castle's Giant Lord.

Thus how the captive maid was found, Oft heard they of The Table Round.

SEANN ORAN GAILIC. [Note: The Gaelic spelt as by Dewar.]

Do reir beulaithris ann an linn Righ Artair bhi ann an Duneidean, bha Triath urramach Eirinneach a chuir tigh ddean air a chraig ris an abairte Aill-sid-chuan, agus ghoid e na braighde romhfhinne uasal, agus thug e i do'n Dun a thog e air Aill-sid-chuan, s bha e ga gleidh an sin na braighde. Bha Righ Artair latha anns a bheinn a sealg, luidh e a' leigeadh a sgtheas dheth, chaidil e agus bhruadair e air an rmhfhinne a bha ann am braighdeanas, agus ghabh e toil a cuir saor, ach cha robh fios aige c'aite an robh i. Ghabh sir Bhalbha os laimh dol g'a h iarraidh na'm faigheadh e long o'n Righ. Thug an Righ long dh'a, agus sheol sir Bhalbha gus gun d'fhuair e air thuileamus i, agus thug e dh'ionnsaidh Righ Airteir i, agus b'ann do'n chis chaidh an t ran a leasas a dheanamh.

Turus a chaidh Righ Arstair s a shluagh Gu tullach na'm buadh, a shealg; Gun duine mar-ris an Righ Ach Sir Bhalbha, fo a lion arm. Gun duine, &c.

Chunnaic Righ Bhreatun s e na shuain An aon bhean a b'aillidh snuadh fo'n ghrein 'S b fhearr leis ro na bh'aige a dh'or An g-bhean bhi aige fein. 'S b fhearr leis, &c.

Ach b'fhearr leis tuiteam ann an sin Le comhrag fir, mar bha e fein. No dol a dh'iarraidh na mn S gun fhios aige cia an t'aite fo n ghrin. No dol a dh'iarraidh, &c.

Thubairt Sir Bhalbha suairce cuin. 'S e mo rn dol a dh'iarraidh na mn, Theid mi fein mo ghille s mo chu Nar triuir 'g a sireadh gun dil Theid mi fein, &c

Seachd seachdainnean le stri Bha sinn sgth a sinbhal cuain Gun chala gun talamh gun fhonn Gun ionad amis an gabhadh an long tmh. Gun chala gun, &c.

Chuannacas an iomall a chuain Ghairbh Caisteal mr mn-gheal ghuirm, Uinneagan gloine air a stuagh S bu lon-mhor ann cuaich coirn. Uninneagan gloine, &c.

Air dhuinn bhi seoladh stigh ri bhun, Chaidh slabhraidh a chuir a nuas; S roimh an t slabhraidh cha do ghabh-ar crith Ach chaidhearurra na m'ruith suas. S roimh an t slabhraidh, &c.

Cuanna'cas an ighean eididh g Air cathair ir na suidhe a steach Sgthan gloine air a gln, S bheannaich-eam do a gnuis gheal. Sgthan gloine, &c.

Fhir a thainig orun o'n chuan S truagh brgh do bheannachadh ann.

* * * * *

Ged thigeadh am fear mor na m dhil Gun iochd gun bhigh le a chlaidheamh cruaidh, Air do ghuidh-se a bhean bhlath. S coingeis leam a ghradh seach fhuath. Air do ghuidh-se, &c.

Arm cha deargadh air an thear, Ach a chlaidheamh run-geal fein. Agus is fhearr dhuit dol fo-chleith Do aite air leith tearruinnt' o'n eug. Agus is fhearr, &c.

Chaidh Sir Bhalbha fa-chleith Agus a steach thainig am fear mor Tha boladh an fhar-bhalaich a steach Oirrinn iar teachd o thuinn na traigh. Tha boladh an, &c.

Anamain, a sheircein, s a rin Is mor an gaol a thug mi dhuit, Cuir thusa do cheann air mo ghlin, Agus seinnidh mi ciin duit a chruit. Cuir thusa do, &c.

Chuir e a cheann air uchd an ighinn ir, Bu ghuirme sil, s bu ghile deud, S ge bu bhinn a sheinneadh i a chruit, Bu bhinneadh an guth bha teachd o a beul. S ge bu bhinn, &c.

Air dhuinn bhi cuairteachadh na'n cuan Chaidil e suain, na thruim sheamh fann, S thug iad an claidheamh a chrios S ghearr iad gun fhios d'dheth an ceann, S thug iad an, &c.

Ghoid iad a bhraighdeach s gu leir S bha a bhean fein fo chumha thruim Siod agaibh aithris mo sgeul S mar a leugh iad am brd-cruinn. Siod agaibh, &c.

Latha do Righ Arstair s a shluagh Bhi air Tullach na'm buadh, a shealg. Gun duine mar-ris an Righ Ach Bhalbha, fo lion arm.


Oh, dear to old Dunolly's heart His darling daughter seemed, Yet when she fled, how pitiless His bitter curse was deemed.

To death he doomed her lover true, And swore his lowly blood Should stain the land, whose soil would blush At wanton womanhood.

But leaves were thick, and woods were green, Where summer saw their love, And none could tell Dunolly where Was nesting his wild dove.

Two years had sped, and all unchanged Dunolly's mood remained; When tired with hunting, late at eve A forest hut he gained.

A cheerful scene! for hung on trees On either side the door A stag and roe, and salmon there Lay strewn the hut before.

There pausing silently he heard Light laughter, O well known; And, looking through the wattled wall Stood motionless as stone.

He saw a happy woman lie Her true man's form beside; And laugh as on the bed they tossed A smiling child in pride.

No word Dunolly spoke, but went, An altered man, and said; "Go bring them home, for rich are they, Love shows them nobly wed."


[1] This cannon was recovered in 1740 from the wreck of a vessel of the Spanish Armada sunk in Tobermory Bay, and is at Inveraray.

An ancient cannon, finely cast. Of bronze, all smooth and green with age, A by-gone actor on the stage, Yet fit to take, as in the past A role in war, and be the last Dread argument of kings!

The daisies grew around, and brought The homage of young spring to praise This stately relic of old days, When France with Spain for mastery fought; And Philip over England sought To spread the Papal wings.

Initialed with King Francis' name, With Gallic lilies sculptured o'er, Above the vent the metal bore A Salamander crowned, in flame; The massive breech could even claim A sheath of lotos bloom.

This goodly weapon, forged where Seine By Fontainebleau and Paris flows, And many a painted Palace shows These emblems of the Valois' reign, For centuries unseen has lain Within the sea's dark tomb.

How came it there? A Spanish keel One of the Great Armada gay, Was blasted in Our Lady's Bay; One of the Fleet the floods conceal, Though o'er the waves was wont to peal The thunder of their pride.

But how came France's lilies there Beneath the flag of red and gold? And o'er the ancient gun we told The story which the legends bear, How in defeat it bore its share And stemmed the Victory's tide.

We thought the winds of hollow sound Spoke from its mouth in solemn tone, Of great events its life had known, That thronged, as with the nearly drowned, To recollection, ere it found Beneath the sea a grave.

"'In flame I live, I quench its glow;' This motto at the foundry fire Was given me by his desire, The king, whose crest and lilies show How love and valour could bestow Their favour on the brave.

"My form was fashioned in each part By him who wrought in gems and gold, Whose glory, trumpet-tongued, is told In fearful wars, in peaceful Art, Cellini of the ardent heart, And Benvenuto named!

"The silver-voiced and laughing crowd Of ladies praised his fair design And asked if on the German Rhine, Or English coasts of fog and cloud, Would soon be heard my challenge loud For rights our country claimed?

"To conquer fair Milan I threw My shot against the Swiss array On Marignano's dreadful day: On sledges hardy soldiers drew My weight through snows, where eagles knew Alone the Alpine way.

"And warring for the emperor's crown, I saw around me fall and die The noblest of our chivalry: When peerless Bayard's high renown Quenched not his blood, that streaming down Fell on me where I lay.

"Pavia felt my iron hail, When traitor Bourbon won the fight, Yet glad was I no foreign knight Alone had made our siege to fail, When wrote our king the dismal tale, 'Save honour all is lost!'

"The impious victor hurled my fire Against the walls of holy Rome, But there the devil took him home! For at the storm my artist sire, Cellini, felled him, for the ire Of God his path had crossed.

"To nobler masters still a slave, I felt the fame of Doria mine; Saw Venice o'er her channels shine; Pursued the Moslem on the wave, And shattered them, when victory gave Her palm to Malta's isle.

"When Naples sent her ships to swell The swarming armaments that bore 'Gainst England from each southern shore In fleets whose numbers none could tell; I saw how Drake upon us fell, How fortune ceased to smile.

"For tempests gathered o'er our track, The little English hornets stung, My heavy shot against them flung Passed o'er their barks, so swift to tack, And every ball they gave us back Upon our galleons told.

"Soon drifting o'er the Northern main Grey shores unknown were quickly past; Our consorts on the rocks were cast, It was our fate alone to gain The peaceful haven where Maclaine Set fire unto our hold.

I sank: a hundred years past by, And diving bells with searchers keen For treasure in the wreck were seen. They took the gold, but let me lie To sleep another century, Then raised and brought me here.

* * * * *

"Valois is dead, and Bourbon's Line No longer fills my country's throne. But death dear France shall never own! Once more of late her joy was mine, Once more for her my flames could shine, My thunder echo clear.

"For when the tide of battle rolled Against the far Crimean shore, And France and Britain downward bore The Russian in his chosen hold, My last salute of victory told For France, as oft of yore!"


We stood, as the helmeted horsemen Formed up in the light of the sun; We knelt, stretching bayonets towards them As they charged, ere the battle was won.

I marked their young leader apparelled As daintily as for parade, A cigarette smoking, advancing He laughed, as he pointed his blade.

He played with his yellow moustaches, And looked on our ranks, with a scorn Such as mantles 'gainst mist and night-vapour On the brow of the Son of the morn.

He led a bright host where the glitter Of armour illumined the vale; As a flood rises slowly, so, coming, They rode with the sun on their mail.

Thus he steadied his men, and none wavered. As the steeds settled down to their stride, And we heard the first rush of the squadrons, Like the gathering roar of the tide.

Their order was perfect and splendid, And his voice, that at first held them in, Had rung down their ranks for the onset, As though it were fate they should win.

I felt I half liked him as onward The lines of his cuirassiers came, Like breakers wind-driven from seaward, Dark tossed in a whirlwind of flame.

I hated the shot that must enter That steel-girt and confident breast, And quench that brave spirit for ever, That light on the cataract's crest

But I gave forth the word, and our volley Rang clear o'er the thunder of feet That rolled not to us, for Destruction Rejoiced their proud splendour to greet.

And the leader who laughed at our columns, At the ranks that bid gaiety die, On his red bed of honour at even Lay smiling his scorn at the sky.



Look not for me at eventide, I cannot come when work is done; I go to wander far and wide, For 'tis not here that gold is won. Perchance where'er I go, these hands May find me what I need to live; Whate'er they win, if house, or lands, I'd yield for what they cannot give.

For who can turn away his face From home and kin and be at rest? What country e'er can take the place That Ireland fills within my breast? More kindly smile the distant skies, They say, beyond yon angry sea; I know not what they mean, mine eyes Have never seen these frown on me.

To me these hills beside the wave With every year have dearer grown; Is it so great a thing to crave To call my native land, mine own? But why these useless plaints renew? Farewell! That word, it seems a knell! If still I'm dear, kind hearts, to you, 'Tis all I ask, Farewell, Farewell!



"They sow in tears who reap in joy," Was truly said of old: We wandered far, but round us still Stretched God Almighty's fold.

'Twas He who led us forth; our grief Discerned His chastening hand, And saw not, though before our eyes Shone bright His promised land.

O bless Him for the love that made The parting greeting sore, But for the bold heart that He gave We bless our God yet more!

He gave us hope, He gave us strength; For us His prairies smile, The new world's untouched soils for us Spread boundless, mile on mile.

The richest heritage on earth For us His mercy saved; For ages Nature's harvests here Unknown, ungathered, waved.

Ours now the grain which decks the plains, Ours all their wondrous yield; Our children, and our kin possess Their own, in house and field.

What wonder then if many laugh, And wonder joy was dumb! To friends in older lands with less Our happy hearts say "Come."


OSBORNE, 1882.

Here Rose and Magnolia Our dearest enshrine, The prayer of the south wind Is thine and is mine, For Child and for Mother Here sweetly twice isled, Brave Seamen are praying For Mother and Child.

Where State must surround them Beneath the Great Keep, And green oaks of Windsor Shade River and Steep, For Child and Queen-Mother The choristers aisled, With armed men are chanting For Mother and Child.

Away where the Heather Blooms far o'er the Pine, The Highlander's blessing Is mine and is thine, For Child and for Mother Beloved and mild; What heart does not bless them, Dear Mother and Child.



Not home to land and kindred wast thou brought, Nor laid 'mid trampled dead of battle won,— Nor after long life filled with duty done Was thine such death as thou thyself had'st sought! No, sadder far, with horror overwrought That end that gave to thee thy cruel grave Deep in blue chasms of some glacier cave, When Cervins perils thou, the first, had'st fought And conquered, Douglas! for in thee uprose In boyhood e'en a nature noble, free,— So gently brave with courtesy, that those Old Douglas knights, the "flowers of Chivalry," Had joyed to see that in our times again A link of gold had graced their ancient chain!


JULY 1866.

Wet, cheerless was our bivouac last eve, but still we spoke Of fighting and of winning, to-morrow, when day broke: That day the thundering echoes of cannon in our front Had louder grown until around had raged the battle's brunt At last the carnage ended, and our regiment's retreat Was marked by many wounded, who shrieked beneath our feet! But here in closer order rides past a Lancer Troop— They had but late been charging like falcons when they swoop. How few there are remaining! Now the river's bank is gained; The Trumpeter's white charger with blood on neck is stained. His snowy flanks are heaving; he shudders on the brink, Then, gently urged, he halts again, and stoops his head to drink. He cannot ford the river, for lost are strength and speed: The Trumpeter, dismounted, now swims beside his steed. Together they have struggled; he will not let him die, And soon he stands beside him though the balls are rushing by. He takes him by the bridle;—would lead him to the town,— Too late,—for life is ebbing,—the gallant steed is down! Ah! long I saw that horseman kneel by his charger's head, And when at last he left him, I knew the horse was dead. How fiercely as he passes that comrade on the plain, Remounted on the morrow, shall sound the "charge" again!


With their deep voice, monotonous and slow, The cannon's thunders roll along the sea; But 'tis in reverence, and to work no woe Those sounds here reach the shore and onward flee Past the oak woods that climb the grassy lea, To strike thy terraces, and palace fair With stately salutation offered thee Who of these potent realms the crown dost wear. So to the fabric of our future fame, Set in the green oak of our Empire's might: Shall history's voice, with measured praise, proclaim Thy life-long love of justice and of right, And the good era that thy reign hath been. To hail thee, reverently, Victoria, Queen.


Some of the Speeches, and a few of the answers to Addresses, delivered during Lord Lorne's term of office in the Dominion, are printed in the following pages.

On taking leave of his constituents in 1878, in a speech delivered at Inveraray, Lord Lorne said:—

Judge of the wishes of our colonies, not from your own point of view only, but from that of their interests also, and from that of the well-being of the whole Empire, whose glory and power is at once the best result and the surest guarantee of the freedom which is yours, and which the colonies inherit from you. Many of you know well, because many of your relations are settled there, the great British Colonies of North America. The Dominion now stretches from ocean to ocean across that vast continent, embracing lands of every nature—some valuable for corn, some for pasture, for timber or for other treasures which will in future centuries make the country one of the richest on the earth—for coal and other minerals. As your former member is about to join the number of your friends who are already there, you will allow him to say a good word for those provinces of the Dominion, the threshold of which civilisation has already passed, and whose fair vacant chambers tempt the settler from the Old World to enter further and to occupy.

Some years ago, at a public meeting in Glasgow, I took the opportunity to describe the temptations offered by the Canadian Government to men employed in agriculture here to settle in Manitoba, and since that day, as before it, hundreds of happy homesteads have risen, and the energies of the Dominion have been directed towards the completion of that railway which will make Manitoba as accessible as is Inveraray. Now, let me again invite attention to this great Province and the vast territories beyond. In Argyleshire we have too few men, and we want more to settle with us, but Canada is a formidable competitor even to this fair country; and in other places, in the towns of this land, there are plenty of men who would do well, if they can hold the plough, to follow the gallant example of their countrymen who have added glory to Britain by forming another great British nation. Instead of leading an unhealthy city life, it were well that many of our townsmen should take to the life-giving work of a settler in the agricultural regions of Western Canada, where they are likely to live longer and to be happier than is the lot of the great majority of mankind.

On embarking at Liverpool in 1878 for Canada, Lord Lorne spoke as follows in reply to an address presented by the Mayor of that city:—

We shall not forget the attention we have received, nor the great demonstration made by the people of Liverpool, of the interest entertained by them in the good of Canada, and of the love borne by the whole country for her children across the Atlantic. You who dwell at this great port, and see so many leave their native land for distant climes, will not misunderstand me when I say that we do not lightly leave you. The heart is often sad at leaving home when the ship is about to start and the anchor is being weighed, however cheery the voices of those who raise it, and hearty the farewell greetings of friends on shore. It is, however, the duty of those who go, to look forward and not back, and it is pleasant to think that across the water we shall find ourselves among our own countrymen and in our own country, among the same institutions as those we know here and under the same flag. We shall find the same laws and the same determination to uphold and abide by them, the same love of liberty as we have here, and the same ability to guard it in honour and order, the same loyalty to the Throne for the same cause, because it is the creation of freemen, the bond of strength, and the symbol of the unity and dignity of the British people Where in the British North American provinces we do not find men of our own stock, we are fortunate in finding those who descend from the noble French race—that race whose gallantry we have for ages learnt to respect and to admire—the friendship of whose sons to the Empire and their co-operation in the public life of Canada, which is adorned by their presence, are justly held to be essential Nowhere is loyalty more true and more firmly rooted than among the French Canadians, enjoying, as all do, the freedom of equal laws and the justice of constitutional rule. In conclusion, I will only say that nothing has struck me more than the enthusiasm manifested towards Canada among all classes of the community in England and Scotland wherever I have of late had an opportunity of hearing any expression of the public mind. Crowds at any public gathering have always given cheers for Canada. The great gathering of to-day is a renewed symptom of the same favourable augury, for a good augury I hold it to be, that men in the old country are ready to call "Hurrah for Canada!" On the other side of the ocean they are as ready to call "Hurrah for the old country!" and these cries are no mere words of the lips, but come from the heart of great peoples. So long as the feelings which prompt these sayings endure—and endure, I believe they will—we may look forward with confidence to the future, and know that those bonds of affection which have been knit by God through the means of kinship and justice will not be sundered by disaster or weakened by time. (Great cheering.)

In reply to an address from the Liverpool Chamber of Commerce, which was read by Mr. W. B. Forwood, President of the Chamber, the Marquis said:—

You may well believe how highly I value the sentiments which have prompted you to come forward today with the address to which we have all just listened with interest, for Liverpool represents not only much of the trade of England, but much of the commerce of the world. It is perhaps the port more intimately connected than any in Europe with the American continent. It is between your quays and those of New York, that a steam service is conducted with the certainty and regularity which tells of the ablest seamanship, and it is by your river that the fine Canadian vessels of the Allan Line come, the magnificent representatives of the prospering mercantile marine of the Dominion, and proud may that country be of such a fleet. Your address shows how highly you value the friendship of the Canadian people, in what regard you hold their esteem, and with what interest and sympathy you watch the progress they are making. It seems to me but a short while ago since I last visited Canada; but in twelve years there is a great change to be seen. Twelve years ago the British North American provinces were only isolated colonies, bound together by no Federal union, and lacking in the strength and deprived of the advantages of unity. Now the decrees of the Central Parliament at Ottawa are passed by the representatives of peoples whose mandates are obeyed through all that broad zone of productive land which crosses the mighty continent, and the name of our Sovereign is hailed with, the same affection as before, but by no mere collection of colonies, for we see a great Federal people. It is for their welfare that you, on behalf of the merchants of Liverpool, express your just and confident hope; and the feelings of sympathy you have shown will, I know, find a response on the other side of the Atlantic. I consider it of the highest value that such a true expression of the affection entertained by the great commercial centres of England should be heard and known. The sentiments which make the hearts of the natives of these isles beat fast with the just pride of nationality, when they see in far distant countries the flag of St. George, St. Andrew, and St. Patrick, is felt to the full by your colonists, who uphold the flag as speaking to them of the great days of old of which they, with us, are the heirs. This common loyalty to the Queen and pride in her ensign is a sure guarantee for the continued greatness of our country. You, gentlemen, have at heart the interests of commerce, and, as merchants, the peace and prosperity of the world. There is no better hope for this than in the unity between these kingdoms and the great dependencies of the Crown. You know well how real that unity is, and you will, I believe, join me in the confident expectation that the eyes of men may long see, beneath our Western sky, the bright apparition of Peace speeding the beneficent navies of commerce as they bear to all lands the fruits gathered from the great harvest which is earned by industry and wisdom.

On passing Londonderry the representatives of the municipality came on board "The Sarmatian," and in reply to the "God speed" of the visitors, the Marquis of Lorne said:—

It is most cheering to receive from you the expression of your sympathy with our mission. We shall feel, after seeing and hearing you, that we leave the Irish shore bearing with us a precious message of goodwill given on the part of its people to their fellow-subjects in Canada. The Dominion of Canada owes much to Ireland. Who does not recall with gratitude to the country that gave him birth, the rule of the late Governor-General of Canada, the Earl of Dufferin? Canada will never forget him, or fail to remember that it was an Irish noble whose career has given her so bright a page in her history. And from the Governors-General, on through a long list of rulers whose presence was a benefit to the Dominion, we know also that Canada is indebted to Ireland for many a hardy agriculturist and many a clever artisan. It would be difficult to speak of any part of our Empire which is not in a similar case, and which does not point with pride to the services of Irishmen, for on what field of honour has the genius of the Irish race not contributed to our power? on what path of victory has not an Irish hand carried forward among the foremost the banner of our union? It is under that ensign alone, of all in the world, that an Irishman stands beneath the cross of the Royal saint of Ireland, and each patriotic effort made by a son of Erin adds another leaf to the wreath of renown which, for so many centuries, has made the piety and gallantry of the race a household word among the nations. In parting from you we shall not forget your kind words, and our visit to the neighbourhood of your city will always be a pleasant recollection. We thank you again, and ask you to convey to your fellow-townsmen the expression of our regret that circumstances have prevented us from receiving your address within their walls.

Arriving at Montreal, the Princess and Lord Lorne attended the "St. Andrew's Ball," and replying to Colonel Stevenson, who tendered the welcome of the committee, Lord Lorne said:—

Colonel Stevenson and Gentlemen, the Members of the St. Andrew's Society,—To me, I need hardly say, it is a great pleasure to find myself to-night among so many of my countrymen who hail from Scotland, and in saying this I am certain I shall have with me the sympathy of all Canadians of whatever race—English, French, or Irish. For all these nationalities wish you well. As for the English, it is impossible for them to feel anything but good-will, for they have as a people been so grateful for the last two centuries to Scotsmen for giving them a king, that they have ever since been only too happy to see Scotsmen getting their way everywhere. The French population shares in the goodwill felt towards you, for they remember that in the old days it was a Scotch regiment, the King's Bodyguard, which was the most popular corps at Paris, and that the French troops who guarded Edinburgh were there as the allies of Scotland. It is impossible for Irishmen to feel anything but the most cordial feeling of love for you, for what is Scotland but an Irish colony? But it is a colony of which Ireland, as a Mother Country, may well be proud. Gentlemen, as one bearing the name of one of the first of those old Irish colonists and civilisers of Scotland, I feel I have a right to be proud of the position taken by Scotsmen in Canada. We have had the good fortune since leaving England to be constantly under the guidance or tutelage of Scotsmen. The owner of the great line of steamships, in one of whose vessels we came here, is a distinguished Scotsman, well known to all in this hall. I am happy to say that the captain of our steamer was a Scotsman, the chief engineer was a Scotsman, and, best of all, the stewardess was a Scotswoman. Well, as soon as we landed we were met by a Scotch Commander-in-Chief and by a Scotch Prime Minister, who had succeeded a Prime Minister who is also a Scotsman. What wonder is it that Canada thrives when the only change in her future is that she falls from the hands of one Scotsman into that of another? Our countrymen are fond of metaphysical discussion, and are apt to seek for subtle reasons for the cause of things. Here it is unnecessary for them to do more in inquiring the reasons of the prosperity of the country, than to look around them and to note the number of their countrymen, and the existence of such societies with such chiefs as the St. Andrew's Society of Montreal But it is time to put an end to such light discourse, and to proceed to the graver terpsichorean duties of the evening.

At Montreal, where a most cordial and memorable welcome was given, the following reply to the Mayor's address was made:—

TO HIS WORSHIP THE MAYOR, AND TO THE CITIZENS OF MONTREAL:—Mr. Mayor and Gentlemen,—In the name of our Queen I ask you to accept our thanks for your loyal and eloquent address. I need hardly say with what pleasure the Princess and I have listened to the courteous expressions with which we are now greeted—and for your most hearty and cordial welcome. We consider ourselves fortunate that so soon after our arrival in the Dominion, we have an opportunity of passing this great city; and while halting for a short time within its walls, on our journey to Ottawa, to make the acquaintance, at all events, of some among the community which represents so large and important a centre of population and industry. Your beautiful city sits, like a queen enthroned, by the great river whose water glides past in homage, bringing to her feet with the summer breezes the wealth of the world. It is the city of this continent perhaps the best known to the dwellers of the old country; and not only is it famous for the energy, activity, and prosperity of its citizens, but it is here that the gigantic undertaking of the Victoria Bridge has been successfully carried out; and the traveller in crossing the mighty stream feels, as he is borne high above it through the vast cavern, that such a viaduct is a worthy approach to your great emporium of commerce. Its iron girders and massive frame are worthy of the gigantic natural features around, and it stands, spanning the flowing sea, as firm and as strong as the sentiment of loyalty for her whose name it bears—a love which unites in more enduring bonds IP than any forged with the products of the quarry or the mine, the people of this Empire. It seems but a short time ago since the Prince of Wales struck the last rivet in yonder structure; and yet what wonderful strides have been made in the progress of this country since that day! Every year strikes a new rivet, and clenches with mighty hand that enduring work—that mighty fabric— the prosperity of the Dominion. Long may your progress in the beautiful arts and industries continue, and far be the day on which you may point to any marks but those which tell of the well-earned results of indomitable energy and determined perseverance. The people of this country may be well assured that the Earl of Dufferin has carried home with him ample proofs of the profound love Canada bears to the Mother Country, and these assurances have been conveyed by him personally to Her Majesty. We wish, in answering your address, to acknowledge the extreme loyalty exhibited by the French-Canadian populations, as well as the populations of the Maritime Provinces, through whose country we have, during the last two days, travelled, and to thank them once again as we had the opportunity this morning, for the kindness shown toward us personally. This scene, the magnificent reception of your great city, we shall ever remember with pride and gratitude.

On arriving at Ottawa, His Excellency spoke as follows in reply to the greeting of the citizens of the capital of the Dominion:—

It is with the greatest satisfaction that I accept your loyal address, and hear in it those expressions of devotion to Her Majesty the Queen, which indicate the feelings which rise so truly in the hearts of every man, woman, and child in Canada, and which not only prove the natural impulses of all who enjoy the birthright of British citizens, but demonstrate the convictions of a people who, by the knowledge they have acquired of the political institutions of the world, cling with a tenacity and firmness never to be shaken, to the constitution which their fathers moulded, and under which they experience now the blessings of freedom and the tranquillity of order, beneath the sceptre of a Gracious Ruler, whose Throne is revered as the symbol of constitutional authority, and whose person is honoured as the representative of benignity and virtue. The attachment which binds the provinces of British North America to the British flag has never been more strikingly shown than during the past year; and we know that the readiness displayed to share the dangers and to partake of the triumphs of the Mother Country is no fleeting incident, but a sure sign that the people of this Empire are determined to show that they value, as a common heritage, the strength of union, and that the honour of the Sovereign will be upheld with equal loyalty by her subjects in every part of the globe. We have now traversed, in coming here, some parts of the important Provinces of the Dominion. In all places we have visited—and I regret it was not in our power, at this season of the year, to visit more—we have met with the same kindness and the same hearty cordiality. I can assure you we are deeply sensible of all that is conveyed in such a reception; and it has been, and will be, a pleasant duty to convey to the Sovereign a just description of the manner in which you have received her representative and her daughter. It is with a peculiar feeling of pride in the grandeur of this Dominion that I accept, on the part of the Queen, the welcome given to us at Ottawa, the capital of the greatest of the colonies of the Crown. It is here that we shall take up our abode among you, and the cordiality of your words makes me feel that which I have known since we landed: that it is to no foreign country that we come, but that we have only crossed the sea to find ourselves among our own people, and to be greeted by friends on coming to a home. In entering the house which you have assigned to the Governor-General, I shall personally regret the absence of the distinguished nobleman whom I have the honour to call my friend, and whose departure must have raised among you the sad feelings inseparable from the parting with one whose career here was one long triumph in the affection of the people. A thousand memories throughout the length and breadth of the land speak of Lord Dufferin. It needs with you no titular memorials, such as the names of streets and bridges, to commemorate the name of him who not only adorned all he touched, but, by his eloquence and his wisdom, proved of what incalculable advantage to the State it was to have in the representative of the Sovereign, one in whose nature judiciousness and impartiality, kindness, grace, and excellence were so blended that his advice was a boon equally to be desired by all, his approbation a prize to be coveted, and the words that came from his silver tongue, which always charmed and never hurt, treasures to be cherished. I am confident that the land he served so well knew how to value his presence, and that you will always look upon his departure with a regret proportionate to the pleasure Ottawa experienced from his sojourn among you. I am confident that we shall find with you a generous and kindly desire to judge well of our effort to fulfil your expectations, and air though you speak of the recent growth of your city, and contrast it with places which have become famous in the world, I need not remind you that there is a special interest and significance in casting in our lot with those whose fortune it is not to inherit history but to make it. I accept your expression of confidence, and promise that I shall do my best to deserve it.

The following is a report of the speech delivered by His Excellency the Governor-General, after distributing the prizes at the school entertainment in the Opera House, on Friday last, December 23, 1878. His Excellency said:—

Ladies and Gentlemen, and my young friends, the pupils of the Public Schools,—Let me express to you the pleasure I feel in being with you to-night, in being able to wish you all a merry Christmas and a happy New Year, and in having an opportunity of giving to the successful candidates for honours the prizes which they have so well won in the competitions which have taken place. I congratulate them upon their laurels, and I wish, after handing to them the proof of their success, to say to them how fortunate I consider them to be, in that their lot has been cast in a land where education is so much prized, and where, both in the Public Schools and in the Separate Schools, it is so well known how to give effect to the value set by all the community upon the thorough and universal training of the youth of the country. I have heard men who have come from England and from Scotland say, on learning of the manner in which schools are sown broadcast in Ontario, and on understanding the system of education adopted here, and the nature of the tuition given, "I wish that I in my time had had only the tenth part of the schooling which is given to the boys and girls in Canada." Let me tell you what lately brought home to my mind, in the most striking way, the consideration and care the Canadians bestow upon their schools. At the great Paris Exhibition this year, where the things in which each nation took an especial pride were paraded before the eyes of the world, the space allotted to Canada was largely occupied with the books, the atlases, and the furniture of all kinds used here in the schools, while no other country seemed to have thought of exhibiting anything of the kind. It was remarked how wise it was of this young country to show these things, for it told the world that she does not only invite to her fair and untilled lands the self-reliant and honest among the crowded populations of Europe, but it told how well the sons of the emigrant, as well as of the resident, were cared for, and educated in the Provinces of the Dominion. I am afraid that with many of the books shown at Paris, our young friends are much better acquainted than many of us, their elders, can now pretend to be; and I am sure that many of the clever young Canadians whom you see before you, could give us, whose learning has become rusty, many a bit of knowledge which might still stand us in good stead. The exhibition at Paris from your schools filled up what some said was a blank, namely, the absence of any of the fruits of your wonderful harvests, and of any machinery from Canada. It was said, I remember, that the fruit could not be carried, but perhaps it was owing to a wish not to wound the susceptibilities of the Old World that none of the beautiful products of your orchards were there, and because you did not wish that any of your modest-looking but unapproachable pommes grises, or blushing and splendid Pippin apples, should appear in the character of apples of discord. It may have been owing to the same wish not to excite unduly and unnecessarily the envy of others, that no machinery was exhibited from Canada, and that while other nations were making the great building resound and vibrate to the whirr of wheels driven by steam; you did not, even by so much as a picture, remind the Parisians of your wealth in water power as well as in steam, and there was nothing to show the citizen of London or of Paris, who supposes the Thames or the Seine to be the greatest streams on earth, why he should be ashamed of himself if he could but look upon the Ottawa or the St. Lawrence. But the school display made up for any blank, and under the shadow of the magnificent Canadian lumber trophy which adorned the palace, reaching to the roof, and which demonstrated the wealth of your forests, were the implements you use for the cultivation of your greatest treasure—the ready brains and quick intelligence of your youth. I am glad to meet some of those to-night for whom all that preparation is made; and first, I would say to those who have not this year been among the prize winners, that I shall hope to see some of their names in the opposite category another year. "Better luck next time" is a good saying, but "Never say die" is perhaps a better. Try again, and yet again, and you will succeed. Many a man begins, and has begun in all times of the world, at the first rung of the ladder, who finds himself, if he will only give his own gifts their due, at the top at the end I do not know that I need recommend to you that most delightful book of history, "The Tales of a Grandfather," written by Sir Walter Scott. He describes, as few can, the despair of the Scottish king, who lay, tired to death, and pondering whether he should or should not try again the apparently hopeless task to deliver his country from her strong and terrible enemies; and how a spider, spinning her web in the rafters over his head, was seen by him to fail again and again, and yet again, until eight times she had endeavoured to fix a thread, and eight times she had found the space too great to span; and how he said within himself "If she try again and fail, I too shall deem my task hopeless;" but the ninth time the attempt was made and did not fail, and I need not pursue the story further, or tell you how Scotsmen look back, through more than five centuries, on the resolve then taken by Bruce with feelings of gratitude and pride which can never fade and die. But there are other cases of men who had become famous for their ability to do that which at first seemed impossible. Let me mention one (to come down to our own times) because his name is widely known and honoured as one of the greatest financiers of our day. I allude to Mr. Gladstone, who, as you know, was the last Prime Minister in Great Britain and was acknowledged by both parties in the State to be one of the best Finance Ministers who ever presided over the National Exchequer. When Mr. Gladstone was a young man, and was about to go to the university (as several of you are about now to leave school for college), he told his father that there was one branch of learning in which he must not expect his son to distinguish himself, and that was in mathematics, as he had no turn for figures. He went to the university, and he came out as what is called a "double first," that is, he proved himself to have become as superior to others in mathematics as in the classical studies, and took first honours in both. I; need not tell you here, in this free and happy country, that it is quite unnecessary for any one to have any artificial advantage in getting to the head of a profession. Industry will find a way, here perhaps more easily than in the old country, though there it is open to all to rise to the highest places. I will only cite one other instance of remarkable success, because it is within my knowledge. It is the case of a man who was one of the greatest shipbuilders on the Clyde, and who built, among many other vessels, the splendid war-ship, the Black Prince, which was lately at Halifax, under command of one of the Queen's sons, the Duke of Edinburgh. The builder of that vessel died lately, one of the wealthiest and most successful of Glasgow's great shipbuilders, and had furnished more fine vessels to the mercantile and war marine of Great Britain than perhaps any one in his time, for he lived to a good old age. His fortune was made by his own strong hand, good head and honest heart. His name was Robert Napier, and I cannot wish you a better career than his, or that you should seek your fortune with greater uprightness and courage. I heartily wish continued success to you who have received prizes this evening. Allow me to hint to you that you must not relax your exertions. If I may use the metaphor, you have learned to swim, but many a stroke is necessary before you can hope to reach your goal Determine what your goal shall be, and strike out straight for it. You have a variety of pursuits in this country. Determine to be of use to the land which has given you birth. Determine to be a credit to it. Remember that you are Canadians, and remember what this means. It means that you belong to a people who are loyal to their Queen, whom they reverence as one of the most perfect of women, and as their Sovereign; and who see in her the just ruler under whose impartial sway the various races, creeds, and nationalities of this great Empire are bound together in happiness and unity. But to be loyal means even more than this. It means that you are true to your duties to your fellow-countrymen, and that you will work with and for all, for the common weal in brotherhood and tolerance. It means, finally, that you will be true to your self-respect, that you will do nothing unworthy of the love of your God, who made you in His image, and set you in this fair land I believe that you will each and all of you be loyal and true Canadians, that you will devote your energies throughout your lives for the good of your native province, and for the welfare of this wide Dominion, and I feel in speaking to you that I address those whose children will assuredly be the fathers of a mighty nation.

During a visit to Kingston in 1879, the degree of Doctor of Laws of Queen's College was conferred upon the Governor-General, and an address was presented by the Trustees. His Excellency, in acknowledging the honour conferred, said:—

Mr. Chancellor, Principal Grant and Gentlemen,—Believe me I am deeply sensible of the honour you have conferred upon me by conferring on me the degree of Doctor of Laws at this time and in this place. I say at this time, because it is a time in which we have been sent here to represent her Majesty; and at this place, because here I see represented every section, creed, and class of the great community of Canada. I accept the honour, if you will allow me to do so, not because I myself am worthy of it, for I feel deeply my own unworthiness, but as a recognition of the position which has been conferred upon me by the grace of the Sovereign. (Cheers.) I am glad that it has taken place here, because it has just been pointed out to me we are in front of that building in which formerly met the Parliament of Canada, and which, good building as it is, when compared with the great and handsome Parliament buildings now at Ottawa, gives a just impression of the progress and advancement made in a short while in this great country. The only personal claim I have to represent her Majesty in this country, is that I have had some experience in that great law-making assembly in Great Britain, her House of Commons. But here I occupy a position unknown in the constitution of foreign countries, as a political doctor, because whatever prescriptions I give must be such that they can hardly be visible to or appreciated by the public. (Laughter.) They must be written in invisible ink—(laughter)—and I can only give a prescription at all when I meet with other physicians in consultation; and any remedy given must be given, not by myself, although it may be administered by any others of those whom I meet in consultation. (Great laughter.) This is a peculiar position, and one which is totally incomprehensible to many foreign doctors. (Loud laughter.) But I am glad to see by your presence and by the kindness of your reception to-day, and by the manner in which you are working out your political destinies, that you know the value and importance of such a position. (Applause.) I thank you for the kindliness of your reception, and I assure Mr. Chancellor and Principal, that I shall always look back with pride and pleasure to the day on which I received this academical distinction at the hands of the authorities of Queen's College. (Loud cheering.)

In acknowledging the address he said:—

TO THE TRUSTEES OF THE UNIVERSITY OF QUEEN'S COLLEGE:—Gentlemen,—I am much rejoiced at learning from you of the large number of students at present attending the Queen's College, and hail this as a proof that the high tone of the instruction here imparted, and the excellence of all matters connected with the organisation and management of this seat of learning, have challenged the attention and won the entire confidence and approbation of the people of this part of the Province. I don't know whether a general holiday is the best occasion on which to enter an abode of learning. But you will agree with me that it is not only learning which makes a man wise, but that his heart and his affections have also something to do in the promotion of wisdom. To-day your preparation for the future, in the matter of labour in gathering knowledge, is laid aside in order that you may let the heart speak and show gratitude for the blessings you now enjoy, and that your fathers have bequeathed to you in the liberty enjoyed under our gracious Queen, the best interpreter of the best constitution ever perfected by any nation. (Cheers.) We thank you in her name for the welcome accorded to us, and we identify ourselves with you in the satisfaction you must experience in the ceremonial of to-day, for in the achievement of the task of raising so large a sum of money, the inhabitants of Kingston show that they wish their children to follow the loyal, prudent footsteps of those who are proud of the name of this city, and are resolved that the next generation shall receive their instruction from no foreign hands, but at home. (Cheers.) Just as Kingston in former days knew how to defend herself and keep her own, so will you on the field of learning ensure that no ground gained by the genius, the labour and the science of former days be lost, but that, strong in the conquests of the past, your students may be free to undertake fresh work, and that each man for himself may advance on new paths of progress. (Loud cheers.)

Ladies and Gentlemen,—Now that the first stone of the new college has been laid, let me congratulate you who have met here on this auspicious day. My observations will not take much time, and shall be brief, because, with the best voice I can command, I fear it is perfectly impossible for me to make my utterances reach over so large an area and be audible to so great an audience as that I have the honour of seeing before me to-day. Indeed, if it were probable that some of those young men who are here as students would, in after life, have the honour of addressing so great a multitude of their fellow-countrymen, I should certainly advise the authorities of the college to erect a chair for teaching the art of elocution—(applause)—so that the volume of the voice might be increased to reach much further than I am afraid is possible for me to-day. But let me join with you in wishing continued success to the Queen's College University at Kingston—(applause)—to associate myself with you in the hope that this new building will long stand as a monument to the generosity of the townspeople of this generation—(applause)—and to the talent of the architect who has designed so handsome and imposing a structure. (Cheers.) I shall not inflict upon you many observations upon the subject of education, for I know no ears to which such observations would sound more trite than those of the people of Ontario, who have shown by the ample and magnificent provision which they have made for education in this province, how all-important they consider it is, that this growing population, extending as it is so rapidly, and being recruited from almost all quarters of the world, should receive a thorough and well-grounded training, and be well instructed in all learning and knowledge. (Applause.) I trust that this college may be a home of happy memories to all who shall receive their education here and who will go forth to spread its renown far and wide. (Loud cheers.) This place is already comparatively old, and I must consider this town of Kingston, which has already made its mark in the history of this country, as fortunate in possessing a university—for certainly by the possession of such an institution, one of those wants is supplied which is rather too apt to be visible in a new and enterprising country. (Applause.) Where many are rather apt to suppose that sufficient is done by a school education for the practical and rougher life, which is the lot of many here, I am sure that all present value the higher training to be alone obtained in a university. (Applause.) It would be superfluous to dwell upon the value of the completion and of the elaboration of education imparted by such an institution, for large as Canada is, the world is even larger—(applause)—and by such a higher training avenues are opened throughout every profession in England and her great dependencies, for there is no office in this vast Empire which is not open to Canadian talent. (Loud applause.) It is on this ground that I believe we can confidently appeal to the generosity of the wealthy, that generosity which is the mainspring of every institution in a free country. (Cheers.) It was in 1836 that it was said by those who founded the college, that "a deep and wide foundation had been laid, a foundation capable of extension," and I rejoice that now in the lifetime of the generation which has succeeded to that in which those words were spoken, there is so fair a promise of the completion of the work, and that those aspirations will be realised. (Applause) And now let me mention one other bond of union between the students of this college and myself, and another cause of sympathy, for with your honoured and learned Principal I have this bond of fellowship, that we were both friends— and I may almost say pupils—of a great preacher and a very beloved man, not the least of whose merits in your eyes will be that it was owing to his persuasion that your late Principal undertook the charge of this college. (Loud cheers.) And I believe it was also owing to his initiative that your present Principal undertook a charge in Canada, an action which ultimately led up to his present position where he is honoured and revered by you all. I allude to the late Rev. Norman Macleod. (Loud cheers.) And, gentlemen, I have one other cause for feeling a fellowship with you, and that is, that I had the advantage for sometime of being a student at a Scottish university, and in very much I trace points of resemblance between the system of your university and that which obtained at home, and especially in this that, although founded by a Scotchman, this institution of Queen's College is one absolutely free and open to every denomination. (Applause.) Indeed this institution is in its features so much like the great universities at home, the great University of Edinburgh, for example, to whose proportions I hope you will in course of time attain, that I almost expect to see some gentleman make a proposal which will fill the only serious want I detect in your organisation, and that is, that there is no provision here for a Celtic chair for the teaching of the Gaelic language. I am sure that in this opinion all our Irish friends will join, for what is a Highlander but an Irishman? (Laughter and applause.) What is he but a banished Irishman?—(renewed laughter)—speaking a language which I am sure would be pronounced by the ancient Four Masters to be a mutilated form of the old Irish language. (Great laughter and cheers.) And now that I have mentioned Scottish students, I am sure you will not think that I am making any invidious comparison when I allude to the noble example I have seen set by them in the determination and energy with which I have known them prosecute their studies. (Hear, hear.) I have known at St. Andrew's men go up to the university so little able to afford the necessary money for their stay there, that they have apprenticed themselves to resident tradesmen in the town, and have risen at I do not know what hour of night or morning, and have gone through the whole of the manual labour necessary for their temporary profession—(loud applause)—and after this exhausting labour have attended throughout the day at their classes in the university and have managed there to take a high place with their fellow-students. (Loud applause.) I am sure you will not think I mention this because I imagine that anybody is not capable of the same effort, for although wealth is much more evenly divided here than it is in Scotland, I believe you are here animated by the same spirit. (Cheers.) I remember mentioning the example of the Scottish students to a famous and learned professor of Cambridge, the late Professor Whewell, of Trinity, and he thought that an invidious comparison was intended, for he sharply replied to me, "Well, there is nothing to prevent you working here." (Great laughter.) This is not the way in which you will take my little story. I am sure there is not only nothing to prevent you working here, but that there is everything to make you do so, and I am confident the students here will take advantage of their opportunities, and do their best to make the name of a Canadian an honoured designation throughout the world. (Loud and long-continued applause.)

At the Royal Military College, Kingston, the Governor-General attended the distribution of prizes, and, at the close, his Excellency rose and delivered the following speech:—

Gentlemen Cadets of the Royal Military College,—On the Princess's behalf I must first express her pleasure in giving you the prizes awarded for mental worth and also for physical exercises—(applause)— and I cannot say how much satisfaction I have had today in seeing the manoeuvres so well executed during the very pretty little field day you have gone through, and in thoroughly examining into every part of this Institution, and seeing myself the place which, I believe, will hereafter be as famous in Canadian history as the training place of the officers in whom Canada puts her trust as is Woolwich in England, or the Academy at West Point, among our neighbours. (Applause.) In being here I confess I think your lines are cast in pleasant places, and it is well that it should be so, for to judge from my own experience when going through a course of training at Woolwich, it may be possible that in future years you will re-visit this scene of your early labours. It is often the case that after some years' service, students of the military art find that owing to the constant progress made in military science, they have fallen a little behind, have perhaps become a little rusty, and have to go back for a time to drill. This may be the case here as well as in other armies, and if ever I have the pleasure in future years again of visiting Kingston, I may find some of the young and soldier-like body whom I have now the pleasure of addressing, again going through "repository" work as stout captains or as weighty majors—(laughter)—here again for a while to polish off any little rust that may have accumulated in their minds. It is certainly a matter of surprise to find what wonders have been accomplished by this school in a short time, and how under the able, energetic, and genial leadership of Col. Hewitt, and of the instructors, to whom you owe an uncommon debt of gratitude, for their work has been very hard, and like the British Infantry, they are excellent, but they are too few—(applause)—a school of arms has arisen which will bear comparison with some of the oldest of similar institutions in other countries. The good which has been done in this school is evident to all who visit it, and this is recognised by those who have not had that advantage, but who, hearing of your progress, and reposing, with good reason, confidence in the able board of officers who guide your studies, have afforded their support to an experiment which may be already pronounced a great success. It is not only one Province that is represented amongst you, but the Dominion at large, and we may look forward to having many from the gallant Province of Quebec—(applause)—whose famous military annals will, I am confident, should necessity arise, be reproduced in the actions of her sons. (Applause.) The life that you have led in this place and the spirit of comradeship here engendered will be a bond of union for our Canadian Dominion—(applause)—and many of you when you leave this will feel for your Alma Mater that sentiment of affection which Napoleon felt for St. Cyr. May this Kingston Military Academy be a fruitful mother of armed science—(applause)—and a source of confidence and pride to her country. You will go hence after your studies are completed as men well skilled in many of those acquirements which may be looked upon as wont to lead to success in civil life; but above all, you will be officers to whom can be entrusted with confidence the leadership of our Canadian Militia. (Applause.) It will be your duty to command those who are called out for service first of all for the defence of your own homes; but I doubt not that you will always remember that in belonging to the Canadian Militia you belong to an auxiliary force of the Imperial army, whose services are constantly illustrating anew, in distant and various climes, and against every kind of foe, the qualities of the British valour and the virtues which have made Britain what she is. (Applause.) It may never be your fate to have any share in war's convulsions, and you may have no opportunity of doing what the Zulus would call, "Washing your spears." Do not on that account think that your time has been misspent, or regret the preparation which is the best means of preventing any disaster falling upon your country. The training you have here received will certainly not only pay well in giving you those habits of mind and knowledge which will be of advantage to you whatever line in life you pursue, but will help you to become good citizens, and will make you worthy representatives of that home army which is so essential for the defence of the land. It is the proud fortune of those who follow that profession, of which it has been finely said that "it is their trade to die," to know that by their life they not only foster those feelings of manliness and hardihood without which life is not worth having, but that it is also under their protecting arm that every profession pursues its even way, and arts and commerce flourish, and wealth increases in security. (Loud. applause.)

On the 24th May 1879, after an interesting review at Montreal of a militia force, comprising one regiment of American Militia from New York State, a dinner was given at the Windsor Hotel, and, in reply to the toast of his health, the Governor-General rose and said:—

Gentlemen and Officers of the Canadian Militia,—Allow me to thank you from the depth of my heart for the extreme kindness of your reception, but you must allow me to ascribe that reception to my official position, for I am fully conscious that I have been too short a time among you to be able to do more than to claim your kindness and consideration. With the Princess it is different, and I believe I can claim for her personally a warmer feeling. (Tremendous applause.) I cannot tell you enough on her behalf of her feelings as to the manner in which she has been received by every section of the Canadian people. I am often asked how she likes this country, and I can only reply to the numerous inquirers by repeating what I have said to those who have asked personally, that although she likes this country very much, she likes the people a great deal better. (Great cheering.) I must not forget to thank Sir Edward Selby Smyth for the extreme cordiality with which he was so good as to propose this toast, and I can assure him that it is not only here amongst Canadian officers, but anywhere else, I should have been proud to hear from him the words he has used. (Cheers.) He has, I am sure, earned the gratitude of every militia regiment in Canada during the time that he has been here, and he speaks, I am sure, as your representative, with the full voice of your authority. (Renewed cheering.) He has held before your eyes a high standard, he has held that standard up with a most efficient hand, and I believe you thoroughly well know how valuable his services have been, and what an advantage it is to have an officer at the head of the Canadian militia who has had experience in active warfare. (Loud cheers.) The manner in which the manoeuvres were performed to-day show how much value you have attached to his teaching—what full advantage you have taken of all the opportunities given to you. And while I am speaking on the subject of the review, allow me to congratulate you on having in your midst to-day, and forming so splendid a part of your spectacle, the gallant American regiment, many of whose officers I have the pleasure of seeing in this hall. (Great cheering.) I wish to repeat to them to-night what I had the honour of saying to the regiment at large, that I thank them most sincerely for having come this journey to honour our Queen's Birthday— (tremendous applause)—and I regard their having undertaken the journey, and having come here, as a proof of the amity of feeling and sentiment for us which is as strong in the breasts of the American people as is their community with us in that freedom in which we recognise our common heritage. (Cheering.) I believe I am not wrong in saying that they have paid us an unusual compliment in allowing their band to play our National Anthem, while a part of their musicians were arrayed in our national colour. Some of the band wore the Queen's! colour, and I believe I am not misinterpreting the feelings of the officers here present when I say, that the very many Americans, not only those of British race, but many others, wear in one sense the Queen's colour at their hearts—(loud cheers and applause)-not only because she is the Queen of that old country with which so many of their most glorious memories are for ever identified,—that old country of which they are in their hearts as proud as I can honestly say England is of them,—but also because the Americans are a gallant nation, and love a good woman. (Great applause.) They have lent us a helping hand to-day, and I believe they will always be ready to do so, should occasion arise on which we may ask them to stand by us. (Tremendous cheering.) We have had a very pleasant day together, which has been followed by a restful evening and a pleasant dinner—pleasant to all, I venture to say-but restful only to those whose fate it has not been, when the dessert has been put upon the table, and the wine has been passed round, to be obliged, by making speeches, to "open fire" again. (Laughter and applause) If an army could always depend upon having such a good commissariat as our little force has enjoyed to-day, it is my belief that field days would be even more popular than they are—(laughter)— and I doubt if the finances of any people, no matter how many changes they should make in their tariff, could long stand the expense. (Laughter.) But if nations are happier when there is no need for them to squander wealth, and spread sorrow and disaster by the maintenance of large forces kept on foot for purposes of offence; yet it will be generally conceded that no nation should be content without a numerous, an efficient, and well-organised defensive force. This Canada and the United States fortunately possess—(applause)—and the motto which was proposed by Lord Carlisle as that which the volunteer force of England should take, viz., "Defence, not defiance," is one which is equally suitable to our kindred peoples. At our review to-day we have had one of the few occasions on which it has been possible of late to bring a fair number of men together for united drill Good drill requires constant attention and work, and I believe it has certainly been the opinion of the spectators of the force to-day, that officers and men have made the best use of the opportunities which have been given them. (Loud cheering.) Our militia force is large in number, and we have had during the last two years the best proof of the spirit with which it is animated. I should be neglecting an important duty were I not to take this opportunity of tendering the warmest thanks of Her Majesty, and of the Imperial authorities at home, to those gallant officers of the Canadian Militia Force who have of late so often offered themselves for service in active warfare—(cheers)—and to assure them that although it was not necessary to take advantage of their offers, that their readiness to serve has been none the less valued, noted, and appreciated, and that the patriotic spirit which binds together all branches of our Queen's army in whatever quarter of the globe they may stand, and from whatever race they may spring, is seen with pride and satisfaction. (Loud applause.) And, gentlemen, although the bearers of commissions in our militia service have not been able to show their devotion personally to their Sovereign and country among the lofty ranges of Afghanistan, or on the bush-covered slopes of Zululand, yet the news of the distant contests waged in these regions has, we know, been watched here with as close an interest, as intense and hearty a sympathy, as in Britain itself—(applause);—and the sorrow at the loss of such gallant officers as Northey and Weatherley—(tremendous cheering)—has been shared with our comrades in arms in the old country, not only because the same uniform is here worn, but also because the honoured dead are united with our people by ties of the closest relationship. The dividing seas have not sundered the brotherhood which the love of a gracious Sovereign, and the passion for freedom, make the lasting blessing of the great English communities— (great cheering);—and just as our country shows that she can strike from the central power whenever menaced, so will her children's States, wherever situated, respond to any call made upon them, and prove that England's union with the great colonies is none the less strong because it depends on no parchment bonds or ancient legal obligations, but derives its might from the warm attachment, the living pride in our Empire, and the freewill offerings of her loving, her grateful, and her gallant sons. (Long continued cheering.)

The opening of an Art Institute at Montreal in 1879 gave occasion to the following reply to an address:—

Ladies and Gentlemen,—This is the first occasion, I believe, on which a large company, representing much of the influence and wealth of this great city, has met together in order formally to inaugurate the opening of the buildings of an Art Institute. Through the kindness of the President and Vice-President, I have already had an opportunity to-day to inspect the works with which this city, through the munificence of Mr. Gibb, has been endowed. I think Montreal can be honestly and warmly congratulated, not only upon the possession of a collection which will go far to make her Art Gallery one of the most notable of her institutions, but on having succeeded in getting possession of funds enough, at a time by no means propitious, to give a home to this collection in the Gallery in which we are assembled and to have erected a building large enough to exhibit to advantage many other pictures besides those belonging to the bequest. It is perhaps too customary that the speeches of one in my position should express an over-sanguine view of the hopes and aspirations of the various communities in the country, and I believe the utterances of a Governor-General may often be compared to the works of the great English painter, Turner, who, at all events in his late years, painted his pictures so that the whole of the canvas was illuminated and lost in a haze of azure and gold, which, if it could be called truthful to Nature, had, at all events, the effect of hiding much of what, if looked at too closely, might have been considered detrimental to the beauty of the scene. (Applause.) If I were disposed to accept the criticisms of some artists, I should be inclined to endorse the opinion I have heard expressed, that one of the few wants of this country is a proper appreciation and countenance of Art; but the meeting here to-day to inaugurate the reign of Art in Montreal enables me to disprove such an assertion, and to gild over with a golden hue more true than that of many of Turner's pictures this supposed spot upon the beauty of our Canadian atmosphere. Certainly in Toronto, here and elsewhere, gentlemen have already employed their brush to good effect. We may look forward to the time when the influence of such associations as yours may be expected to spread until we have here, what they formerly had in Italy, such a love of Art that, as was the case with the great painter Correggio, our Canadian artists may be allowed to wander over the land scot free of expense, because the hotel keepers will only be too happy to allow them to pay their bills by the painting of some small portrait, or of some sign for "mine host." (Laughter and applause.) Why should we not be able to point to a Canadian school of painting, for in the appreciation of many branches of art, and in proficiency in science, Canada may favourably compare with any country. Only the other day Mrs. Scott-Siddons told me that she found her Canadian audiences more enthusiastic and intelligent than any she had met. Our Dominion may claim that the voices of her daughters are as clear as her own serene skies; and who can deny that in music, Nature has been most ably assisted by Art, when from one of the noble educational establishments in the neighbourhood of this city, Mademoiselle Albani was sent forth to charm the critical audiences of Europe and America? Canada may hold her head high in the kindred fields of Science; for who is it who has been making the shares of every Gas Company in every city fall before the mere rumours of his genius but a native Canadian, Mr. Edison, the inventor of the electric light? In another branch of Art her science must also be conceded. In photography it cannot be denied that our people challenge the most able competition. (Applause.) I have heard it stated that one of the many causes of the gross ignorance which prevails abroad with reference to our beautiful climate, is owing to the persistence with which our photographers love to represent chiefly our winter scenes. But this has been so much the case, and these photographs excite so much admiration, that I hear that in the old country the practice has been imitated, so that if there may have been harm at first the very beauty of these productions has prevented its continuance, because they are no longer distinctively Canadian, and the ladies in the far more trying climates of Europe are also represented in furs by their photographers, so that this fashion is no longer a distinguishing characteristic of our photography; in proof of this I may mention that in a popular song which has obtained much vogue in London, the principal performer sings:—

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