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hinges, and the shelves within laid bare. The cabinet, which even Mrs Banyan had so far respected, that only the tender touch of a feather-brush had visited it, was at the mercy of this young adventurer, and all its treasures of tomes and papers were face to face with the iconoclastic duster. But the imminence of the danger roused Chrysippus from his surprise.

"Oh, pray don't touch my father's books!" he cried. Perhaps it was his earnestness which brought the smile to her lips. She was smiling, as she closed the old doors, and turned to him.

"How do you do, sir?" said she. "How do you do? Margaret," said he; and having said it, he felt a little awkward, and blushed slightly.

CHAPTER III.

"Woman less free than welcome! Can it be She were to us less welcome if more free?"

Was no birth of light so fair since the world's first dawn, as on that morning. During the few weeks, which had gone by since the old house was made bright by the footsteps of Margaret, there had been cloud and shower, shower and cloud now, on a sudden, was a day for the fairies. Chrysippus had never heard the sheep-bell on the distant slope so clearly, nor the nearer babble of children's voices in the village street. The wind of heaven had never stirred the hair about his temples so softly, nor borne so freshly the smell of rich soil, of growing crops, of flowers that filled the earth and air. The student was amazed at the strange acuteness of his senses; but somehow as he thought of his new emotion it was gone, and the charm of the world passed by. He was a little impatient with himself. Was he, who understood nature to its deepest depth, to be cheated by whispers of Nymph from stream or wood? Was he an idle fellow who must meditate poetry, because, forsooth, there was more oxygen about than yesterday? Why, it was his pastime to watch the earth together with more important planets come into being, because for a time in

He

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the aggregate of atoms the force of attraction was greater than that of repulsion. He would mark, how with a sweet simplicity the same undiminished matter gathered into mountain, river, tree, and flower, then packed closer still in fish and bird, in beast and man. had only to pursue the train of thought, until the dividing force was everywhere in excess; and lo! man, beast, bird, fish, flower, tree, river, mountain, and the round earth itself, became once more a loose group of like atoms drawing nearer to the sun. One who could imagine all this at eighteen years of age, was not to be tickled in the nose and ear by the spirit of summer. A closely-packed bundle of dissimilar parts, he stood outside the universe, and watched it

through the glasses perched upon his delicate nose, with a kindly patronage. Its infinite variety was to him an inevitable heterogeneity.

He felt that he must get to work; so he took down a volume, and sharpened a pencil for marginal annotations. But his occupation was not satisfactory. He knew all that was in the book, and his attention wandered. Men and women were gossiping in the road, and

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Being the stream came back the lightfooted breeze, bright with sounds of birds, sheep-bells, and children, fragrant with earth and growing crops and blooming flowers. The whole morning, which he had so carefully shut out, was back upon him, as if the garden song were the summons of a fairy. Chrysippus, who was now stark mad, thought it was. He looked at the distant hills, gave a great sigh, snatched up his hat, and put it on. That hat, which was wont to cover as cool a brain as could be found, was for the first time slightly on one side. As he made for the door, it opened, and Mrs Banyan appeared on the threshold. She stared in amazement. She rubbed her eyes, and looked again. She was not dreaming; and there certainly was a faint flush in his cheek.

their voices disturbed him.
unable to banish them, he deter-
mined to accept and explain them,
but it was stupid work. After
mentally taking to pieces and put-
ting together the chief speaker, he
could only repeat the same process
until the whole group was exhausted.
The student of psychology yawned.
Men and women are so painfully
alike, and brains and spinal columns
are all of one pattern. While he
was languidly dissolving the village
butcher, there suddenly rose from
the garden a song as artless, frank,
and sweet as the morning. In a
moment he was ashamed of the
work on which he was engaged.
It was presumptuous-nay, more,
it was indecent; there was no word
for it but vile. No difference in
human beings indeed! Who could
sing like Meg? If their throats
were of the same fashion, why could
not they use them? Her move-
ments in the daily work were made
to music. She was like the great
composition of a master, which was
yet full of simple melodies. She
was snow in sunlight, grass in dew,
dawn in untrodden meadows, fresh
roses, fresh lilies, fresh daisies, fresh
lettuce, fresh cream. She was fair,
and sweet, and good. She was
princess and dairymaid, cook and
fairy, star alone in heaven, and
candle in the cottage window. Who
could describe the flood of fancies
which poured through the mind of
this young man so suddenly gone
mad? Through all those days,
while maid Margaret put the house
in order, the stream had been rising
higher, and the deluded youth had
been unaware. With the song
heard at that disturbing hour, the
first ripple had gleamed above his
outworks; and a moment after, the
whole broad flood poured in. How
his paper embankments went down!
Books freighted with the most pon-
derous words were of no avail. On

"Meg must go to the hills with me," he said, eagerly. If he had asked for the moon, or for a work of fiction, Mrs Banyan could not have been more surprised.

"But she has got her work to do," she objected.

"It is a shame," he cried, "that she should work so hard. She has no time for books nor country walks, no holidays, no pleasure."

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"No pleasure!" exclaimed she, rather tartly. Suppose that it is her pleasure to work, what then?" Chrysippus could not think of the right answer at the moment; and she continued—

"If the girl was idle, she would be wretched; but there! I suppose that it's one of your fads to have people happy in your way instead of their own.'

"But I say that it is a shame that Meg should work so hard, and I sit idle. Because we men are stronger, we make women slaves. The position of woman is degraded, and not to be endured."

"You have endured seeing me

work for a good many years," observed Mrs Banyan, drily.

"O Banyan," he entreated, "let me ask her to come! You have no right to prevent her," he added, hotly; "she ought to do whatever she likes. All men and women should do what they like."

"Even when it is wrong?" asked

she.

"How can you say what is right or wrong? Nobody should show even by a look that he disapproves of another's act. It is gross tyranny."

"Well," observed Mrs Banyan, "I never have smiled at a thief, and I never will."

"O Banyan, do let her come!" begged the youth, coming down with great rapidity from the elevation of the lawgiver. "I feel as if I should live, if she would take me away to the blue hills."

The good dame was softened. Had Margaret meditated a walk with any other young man, she had been under lock and key in no time; but Chrysippus was so comically unlike other young men that it was hard to find a reason for refusing his request. Besides, deep in Mrs Banyan's soul was amazement at the change in Chrysippus. For the first time, since he was three years old, she saw in him the signs of strong emotion. She felt as if something had given way in him. She seemed nearer to him than she had ever been since he was a little child. Her motherly heart went out towards him, she smiled on him without consciousness of a previous intention to smile. The smile almost widened to a laugh, and her face beamed like the sun at noon, as she said

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garden.

Each moment she had been glancing at the sky with half a sigh, and had followed with her eyes each bird that darted with a thrill of pleasure over the wall. Besides, since in her youth she was more sanguine than her aunt, the wish of Chrysippus seemed to change him in a moment to a wholly new person. Every day she had learned to pity him more and more. He was so unable to be young, even so unconscious of the possibility of youth, so cold in taking kindness, so mercilessly just to himself and others, that his presence had already begun to chill her glad spirits, and to make her sigh at odd moments with a new appreciation of pathos. Now, instead of this lifeless thinker, suddenly through the tangled sweets of the garden came a boy with flush and blush and eager prayer; and with no doubt she put her hand in his to lead him out of the shadows. It was a summer day's miracle, and the whole duty of woman was to prevent a reaction.

For a time they went in silence. Her thoughts were a half-formed hymn of thanksgiving for the beauty of the time, and the joy of her companion. He followed where she led, filled with an emotion of delight, with a strange wonder that all things were so fair; perceiving the earth and air, song of birds, and charm of the girl beside him, as vivid parts of one boundless beauty; making no effort to distinguish the pleasure gained from each, but for the first time, since he was a little child, glad. He was tired first, as was natural. They had just reached the edge of the downs, and, descending a little, she chose a seat where the grass was deepened and wrinkled about the roots of an old tree. Away on the left the sun was already moving towards the west, and the rays spread downward like a fan, touching the low-lying hills from end to

body has kissed me as long as I can remember myself," he said. "Poor boy!" she murmured, and touched his cheek with her lips. And now it was impossible to sit quiet in this spot, which would for ever have a quaint sanctity for her. She was beginning to blush, and the awful question flashed upon her whether she must tell her aunt. She leapt to her feet like a young Artemis, and pointed toward the village. "Meg," asked he, "is all the world beautiful?" "Yes," she answered, with all the certainty of youth. She had seen a few miles of earth.

SO

end. Before them the land swept downward in full curves, till it sank into the meadows below. Fields of grass or growing corn stretched to the grey willows, which marked the winding path of the river, where it did not reveal itself by catching the sunlight at its curves. Over all was the luminous shadow of a mist, which was lost in the blue distance. Chrysippus felt the charm throughout him, and read emotions like his own in all the scene. The sun loved the cool hillside; the haze was too languid to rise from the strong earth; the wheat longed to be all gold; the river lingered because the place was "Then the day must come," he fair, and laughed where he caught said, looking towards the setting the rays. Margaret watched her sun, "when men and women are pupil, and was full of hope. She fit to dwell therein; you must help would have sung, had she not feared me to make them better." to disturb a mood which she did not try to understand, but felt to be healthy. Whenever he glanced at her with a pathetic appeal for sympathy, she answered with a smile.

But her state of satisfaction was rudely shattered by a request so strange, that her heart stopped beating for a moment. "Will you kiss me, Meg?" asked Chrysippus. She looked at him in wonder. Had there been the glimmer of a smile in his eyes, or the slightest tone of the lover in his voice; had there even appeared in him the consciousness that his request was surprising, she would have felt herself insulted, and left him in his egoism to kiss his own hands when he pleased. But he spoke as a child might ask his nurse, or pray to an angel. "No

"Everybody can do something." "We can do much."

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"We can praise God for all good, and try to do right," she said, simply. Meg," said he, after a pause, as they went down the slope, "you must help me to be good."

She put her hand in his, and so they went home.

Maid Margaret could not keep her guilty secret. When she confessed to her aunt that night, she was amazed at the reception of the news. Mrs Banyan asked with symptoms of excitement, if his face was soft. The next morning when Chrysippus came cheerfully down to breakfast, the good dame dashed in with her cap awry, caught him in her arms, and kissed him on both cheeks. They were soft as a girl's.

A SKETCH OF CANADA AS IT NOW IS.

THE world is living so fast, remarkable events follow each other with such rapidity, whilst the facilities of communication permit of the concentration of intelligence from all parts on each succeeding day, that there is danger lest, amongst the glitter of startling occurrences, the steady growth of history in a portion even of our own empire may be overlooked or but slightly regarded. Yet there is little doubt but that great changes have taken and are taking place in the most important of our colonial possessions. The colonies included in our North American empire, and since 1867 united together under the name of the Dominion of Canada, whence the writer has recently returned after a lengthened residence, are laying deep the foundations of a history whose later development may depend in no slight degree on the present action and opinions of those who are labouring in the work, and of those who are looking on from the mother country.

The wonderful progress, the ceaseless activity, and the almost obtrusive self-assertion of her great neighbour, have attracted men's attention from the slower but perhaps steadier growth of Canada; and it is a matter of remark, not perhaps unaccompanied with a slight ingredient of bitterness, that ten lines in the most important of the English newspapers are devoted to Canadian affairs, while several columns are allotted to those of the United States. The growth of the oak may be less interesting to watch than that of the pine, but its durability is more. permanent; and not to attempt to prophesy, it may be remarked that the teaching of history has shown more than one occasion that

on

power and strength have come from the north, and that the stern features of nature, whilst impeding the advance to maturity, have strengthened the constitution of nations that have been born amidst the rigours of a severe climate.

The picture presented by the Dominion of Canada is, however, even now striking enough to excite the imagination, as well as to rouse the interest of thinking men. A population, consisting for the most part of English, French, and Scotch, and amounting in numbers to little if any more than that comprised within the area of London, occupies with greater or less density-leaving at present vast and fertile regions in their pristine solitude-a country stretching over 70 degrees of longitude, and extending from the Atlantic to the Pacific Oceans. This vast territory is united under one government, is ruled (stating the case broadly) by similar laws, and guided by precedents founded on English history. A nation is, in fact, progressing gradually to maturity imbued with English sentiments, attached to English forms of government, and desirous of passing from childhood to youth, and from youth to manhood, by gradually modifying the connection, but without severing the links that bind it to the mother country. The formation of this nation dates from the year 1867, when, by a peaceful but important revolution, the provinces of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, yielding their separate identities, united themselves with Upper and Lower Canada, and formed the present Dominion, into which British Columbia, Manitoba, and Prince Edward Island soon after gravitated, the last not until the end of the

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