heard. She was unused to scenes like this. It could not be that either her uncle or Julian was in earnest. People often said things in anger that were not intended to be taken literally. She was still looking on in the same uncomprehending way. Julian turned sadly from her to his father, holding out his hand again.

66 Will you shake hands with me, father?"

Never; never while you live, unless you undo the deed you have done to-day."

Joshua Serlcote stood there, erect in his pride and his anger, stricken in heart with a yet unrealised disappointment, and only half-conscious of the import of what had been said and done. It is probable that he was as far as Agnes was from believing in any finiteness of result likely to follow this quarrel with his son; but he was a man who prided himself on keeping his word. It was for Julian to consider the consequences.

Julian had already left the house; just as he stood he had gone, snatching his hat from the peg as he went rapidly through the passage, turning neither to the right nor to the left. His father's refusal to shake hands with him had struck him hardly; dead as he was to feeling of almost every kind, he yet felt this.

The angry flush of colour died rapidly from the old man's face after the sound of the closing door had fallen upon his ear. He sat down, pale, bewildered, stunned. The suddenness, the unexpectedness of this conclusion to the long-deferred interview with his son was overwhelming. He put out his thin nervous-looking hand as Agnes went up to him with a gesture that was unspeakably touching. It felt very chill and lifeless, and Agnes took it between her own two warm ones and held it comfortingly. It was a little ease to herself.

Joshua watched her as she sat on a low stool at his feet, betraying her suffering only by her silence. She looked up at him once trying to smile, but the expression that was on her simple innocent face would have suited tears better.

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"Never mind, my child; never mind," he said, laying one hand tenderly upon her head. You are young, very young, you will get over it; and I -I"

"And you will get over it too," she said, softly, and believing the word she said. "We shall all get over it. Julian will come back, I know he will come back; and you will forgive him. Say that you will forgive him; I shall feel happier if you will say it."

"I cannot say it, I cannot say it," the old man replied with agitation. "I have forgiven so much, more than you know of, more than I can tell you. Forgive! How can we forgive a person who doesn't even desire forgiveness, who goes on sinning against one, time after time? How oft shall I forgive him?"

Agnes looked up quickly; she felt that her uncle was not intending to ask the question as Peter asked it, yet surely the reply that was made to Peter might also he made to him. "What was meant," she gently asked, by "seventy times seven'?"

Joshua hesitated awhile. Agnes's presence,

her voice, the fact that she was pleading for one who had tried her heart's strength to the very uttermost these things were tending more forcibly than he was aware of to prevent that hardening of himself against his son that he had meditated.

"I suppose that forgiveness without limit was meant," he said, thoughtfully. "But it is a hard saying until to-night I never knew how hard.” "Yet not impossible?"

"Perhaps not. If it is not impossible to you it certainly ought not to be to me. But of what use is forgiveness? It is too late. He took advantage of me. He stung me into anger, and then took me at my word almost before it had left my lips. If he says that I turned him to the door, I can only say from the bottom of my heart that I believe he wanted to go. Agnes, where is he gone? Do you think he will come back? You said just now you thought so; what made you say so?"

Already change was stealing upon him, resistlessly, pitifully. His son had had temptations, unusual temptations, he acknowledged to himself; and perhaps there were others who had been more to blame than he had been. He could not talk to Agnes of Mrs. Talbot, but he thought about her a good deal; and knowing no other cause of Julian's conduct this evening he attributed all to her. The boy was infatuated, he could in a measure understand that, he could even understand that such an infatuation should for a time seem stronger than the purer and holier and more natural love that ought to have been all sufficient for him, that doubtless would have been sufficient but for the wiles and arts of a woman who could find no more congenial pastime than trifling with human affection.

Joshua Serlcote was not far from the truth here; he saw further and more clearly than Julian himself had seen.

Of late, as we know, other troubles had beset Julian, beset him so grievously that his love for Agnes, his foolish and absurd fancy for Helena Talbot, had alike remained in abeyance. The latter had flared up a little wildly now and then, more especially in Mrs. Talbot's presence. There had been something about her condescension that touched more than his vanity; and more than his vanity had been wounded by that change in her on the evening when Dr. Sargent so unexpectedly came upon the scene. He had not seen her since-hardly a week had passed-but he had not troubled himself about her so much as might have been expected. He had surprised himself in this what capacity he had for suffering, and it was not a little had been claimed by other and more momentous matters.

Of all this Agnes knew nothing. She could have borne to know better than she bore the conjecture. The hints that Julian had dropped were very pregnant for her, and afforded a vast field for sad imagining. Let it be remembered that she was only a woman, and a very young one, and that her experience of life had been of the simplest. She was not even ' clever," in the modern sense of the word. Girls of her age

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O return to Montreal, whence I write. It is finely placed, though somewhat more

smoky than I expected, and with provokingly bare and weedy plots among the houses towards the outskirts of the town. Its population is not so French as that of Quebec, but the old Gallic ownership has left stubborn marks. For instance, when I went for a walk over the Royal Mount which gives its name to the place, and shows the city, river, and plains in one grand view, I asked my way thrice. Each time my question was rejected with a shrug, and I had to put it in French before receiving an answer. This indicates not only a very conservative adherence to national traditions, but a considerable amount of what I might call obstinate isolation. These people, anyhow, had either found enough of their own race and tongue to be independent of English society, or had affected not to understand me. I feel persuaded

however, that their failure to reply arose from sheer ignorance. The shrugs were genuine. They did not know enough English either to apprehend what I said, answer my question, or state their inability to do so. They only shrugged their shoulders at me as if I had been a Chinaman. This severance (although they are loyal citizens is naturally much deprecated by the presen masters of the country. I happened to fal into conversation with a gentleman from Toronto, and when he praised his own city remarked, "It is a pity that you have no Royal Mount there from which to look down on it." replied, "but we have no French."

"Ay," he

Many of these live in the poorest parts of Montreal, and, with some Irish, form that stratum in the community which is the object of much unquestioning and too often disappointing liberality. Most of the charitable institutions here are naturally Roman Catholic, but I especially noticed one which announced on its outside that it was devoted to the care of "Protestant Infants." Poor little ticketed things! There were two or three crowing at an open window close by on the ground floor, and if I had been the Pope himself they would have accepted my stick of barley-sugar with unhesitating acclamation.

Since I am visiting Montreal as a member of the British Association, which is most generously welcomed, I share the hospitality which they receive, being most agreeably lodged in the hos pitable house of the Hon. Donald A. Smith, who, as last chairman of the former Hudson's Bay Company, was a chief instrument in the transfer of its authority to the Dominion, and was subsequently with Colonel Wolseley in the business of the Red River Rebellion. Thus I hear much at first hand of the most weighty changes in Canada, and am, as it were, resting in the cradle of its newborn history.

I have, though, naturally been anxious during some pause in this gay time of science and luxury to see the poorer parts of the town. That there are such appears from, say, the dirty beggarwoman, with her wan-faced advertisement of a

child sitting on the low wall in Nôtre Dame Place. I have had talks with experienced and intelligent men who have much to do with the poor. There is distinctly much less drunkenness in Montreal than in London, though a few dock labourers may drink more here than they do there, simply because they earn more. Directly the winter stops their dock work, though they might easily find other employment some way out of town, some beg, and are provided with food and warmed rooms. Otherwise they would be frozen as hard as boards, and the good people of Montreal would not like this. They do not wish to be the last direct agents in thus applying the sentence, "If any man will not work, neither shall he eat." So they feed these lazy drunkards. I find, on repeated inquiry, that if a dock labourer can handle an axe he may in the winter earn twenty dollars a month, with board and lodging, at "lumbering," ie., chiefly cutting trees down. in the forests ready for the spring freshets to float down to the saw-mills. If he is not expert enough at this, he can get employment in tending cattle, under shelter, for farmers, within accessible distance, at ten dollars a month, in addition to board and lodging. But he sometimes prefers the charity of Montreal. I have not, however, confined my inquiries to those who know about the poorest class, but give the result of an expedition of several hours which I have made, under the kind guidance of Canon Ellegood, to some of the meanest places in Montreal. He has been more than thirty years in this city, and knows its pastoral and sanitary ins and outs as well as or better than most. He took great interest in my inquiries which I made pencil in hand. Genuine slums are found here, but they are not nearly so thick as in some parts of London. We paid a good many visits, though I do not record them all. Our first was to Mrs. S, in a back yard. Husband works for the corporation"-i.e., what we should call "parish." Earns, when in work, equivalent to 245. a week. Rent a little over 4s. a week. Seven children. Three small rooms. Mr. M5s. a week, much the same story. Mr. D-—, uncertain occupation; crippled. Wife does charing. Several children. Four rooms. Stagnant water under floor. Been to the health officer.

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He came three weeks ago; not been since. Nothing done. Pays 7s. a week rent, and small water rate. Had to do a lot of his own. papering and plastering to make the rooms decent. Has hired his rooms by the year. Pays 10d. for a 4 lb. loaf. (We tested this by going into the shop round the corner, asking the price, and having the loaf weighed. I found that he bought the

best bread. The cost of seconds in relation to the first was as three to four.) Vegetables-now what did he pay for vegetables?"Bring what you have just bought," cried he to his wife. She produced four moderately sized Swedish and two small white turnips. "We got these," said she, "from a countryman in the street, for seven cents"-i.e., 3d. "Would have had to pay twice as much at a store"-i.e., shop. "Fish now?" "Oh, missus, bring those haddocks. We

paid thirty-five cents-i.e., Is. 5d.—for them this morning. They were two small fish. "What do you pay for meat?" "Well, the best is fifteen cents-i.e., 7d. a pound; coarser, not more than 6d." Potatoes, 1s. a bushel. Paraffin, for lamp, Is. a gallon. Coals, what were they? About halfa-crown a hundredweight now-in summer; bituminous a little dearer than anthracite. This is a very heavy price. Butter? Twenty-five centsi.e., Is. per pound. The Canon, who was watching and checking all these answers, said he paid twenty-two cents for the best. Bacon, 5d. to 6d. a pound. Suit of working clothes about ten dollars-i.e., £2. The dustbin is generally emptied twice in the week. The drains were bad, and. "got into his brain." Lodgers? Didn't have any, but might have as many as he pleased, provided they were "reputable." What were the rents of the tenements above his? "Well, the lady in the next floor paid six dollars a month -i.e., about 6s. a week, and a small water rate. I think she had three small rooms. "But," said he, "rents have risen." Canon Ellegood confirmed this, and said we had seen and interviewed representatives of the poorest classes, but that skilled artisans got from two to three dollars a day. The children (who are now at the tail of their holidays, which last two months) were often dirty, but less so than those of a similar class in English towns. I saw no genuine specimen of the irrepressible street boy. The Montreal urchin is quieter than his London cousin. Of course, he has some disputes over dirt-pies, and paddles in unclean puddles. But as far as I can see, he plays at neither marbles, top, cat, nor chuck-farthing; though some toss balls aimlessly and feebly. I noticed that the first woman we called on had no shoes or stockings. No more had Mr. D—— ; but then he had no feet. They had been frostbitten, and cut off. I need not give the result of several more visits; they produced about the same tale. The first impression produced in several places on Mr. Brooke Lambert, the Vicar of Greenwich, and a keen social inquirer (who accompanied me), and myself was that they were as bad as some we were familiar with in London. But the interiors were decidedly cleaner in most instances. After a long bout of visitation, we had each some milk in a small shop. For this we paid five cents-i.e., 2d. per glass. But the glass was rather larger than those used for the purpose in London. The milk had been skimmed, though.

But

After our round we went to "The Montreal Protestant House of Industry and Refuge." Here one hundred and fifty men and women were found, mostly old and permanent inmates. any man applying for a meal was supplied with one, and in winter there would be three hundred sleeping on the premises. We spoke to several from Bristol, Manchester, and elsewhere, who were still quite at sea. They were helpless sort of fellows, and the bright matron who went round with us and talked very audibly and freely about the inmates before their faces complained of such immigrants. She gave them, in one sense indirectly, for she did not address them, but ourselves, a "bit

www.

of her mind." And it was a very sensible kindly mind too. Some in the house were obviously of weak intellect, but several were most unmistakable "cadgers." I have not been chairman of a large East London Charity Organisation committee for ten years without being able to spot these gentlemen. This institution is the only Protestant one in Montreal which relieves men. Some others help women and children. All are supported by voluntary contributions or managed by volunteers, there being no poor-law here. I have already noticed that the Roman Catholics have their own philanthropical machinery, which is extensive, and, like other good work of the same sort, helps to breed pauperism. The internal condition of the Canadian towns does not, however, measure the produce and possibilities of the Dominion. Its energy is not focussed in cities, but is mostly operative in the field, plain, and forest.

I ought, though, in referring to Canadian energy, to note one special phase of it, and must mention the spirited conduct of the Montreal newspapers. They give the proceedings of the Association at great length, along with news and comments of local, colonial, and European interest. Many parties are being given in the afternoons and evenings. The Governor-General held a reception the other night at the M'Gill College, and smilingly shook hands about a thousand times.

Though a detailed account of our doings is suited only to current scientific journals, or elaborate final " reports," I cannot refrain from' noticing a few phases in the procedure of the Association which have a wider and more popular interest than the "papers" which were read. The municipal authorities welcomed their English kinsmen in the Queen's Hall, which holds about 1,200 people, and was well filled. The mayor (a short and smiling Frenchman in spectacles, heavily chained) read a well-written English address with laudable conscientiousness and very successful leaps over some ugly-looking verbal fences. Then, after a reply by Sir William Thompson, who represented the retiring president, Mr. Mayor, with a strong foreign accent and terse cordiality, called on the great assemblage for "God Save the Queen." It was sung with a universal heartiness which instantly set upon the mind a deep impression of Canadian loyalty. This was, if possible, deepened in the evening, when the hall was again packed tight with a panting and patient crowd which watched for the faintest references to the radical relationship between Canada and England, and applauded them rapturously. The President, for lack of time, was unable to read the whole of his paper. His address was well received, and a short concluding reference he made to the inevitable difficulty which a purely scientific worker feels when he attempts to break into the higher mysteries of being with the tools of calculation and experiment was warmly appreciated. Lord Lansdowne made an excellent speech. It not merely touched the leading thoughts of those present with neatness, but was marked throughout by a generous, statesmanlike, and thoughtful cordiality.

A

French gentleman (I call him French, though he was a British citizen) delivered himself at great length, being unwisely cheered when he showed signs of pulling up. The audience were determined to have it supposed that he was perfectly understood by all. So he was by many natives, Montreal being half French; but I question if the crowd of "scientists" who clapped till their palms tingled were quite so clear in their minds about the details of his utterance.

Montreal is a place of about 180,000 people. Its streets are spacious and furnished with good shops, nearly all of which have their signs or names sticking out. The cabs are made to open if necessary, and are well served. The hoardings invite the passer-by to purchase "Reckitt's Blue,' "Stephens' inks for hot weather," and "Nestle's infant food." Carts go round and drop blocks of ice at every door. The French language sounds in the air and shows itself over shops. Spires and towers are numerous. I believe that this is called the "City of Churches." Swarthy Roman priests in spectacles, tall hats, and cassocks walk about the streets. Anglican parsons, in very correct clerical suits, wear mostly black wideawakes. Many elegantly dressed ladies drive about and illustrate the latest advance in the science of fashionable adornment. The principal public edifices are as big and solid as the Mansion House. Policemen are equipped with flat caps and blue serge sacks. They carry their bâtons in their hands, at the risk of lowering the influence of their moral force.

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cross benches," and on asking whether any members of the Dominion Parliament had independent views, was answered in the negative. Anyhow, their places of deliberation, furnished. with large galleries, wherefrom public opinion may be immediately gathered, are importunately big. But, in their way, the sawmills are bigger. Huge trunks of trees come floating lazily down the Ottawa and its affluents for hundreds of miles till they reach a row of monsters, full of greedy teeth within, which straddle over the current. Here the trunks, all slippery and dripping, are caught up at one end of a shed and issue from the other, literally within a few minutes, in such finished planks as you might buy from a carpenter at Notting Hill. The way in which a great log, ten feet or twelve feet round, is hoisted fresh from the water, laid upon a truck, pinned rigidly down in an instant, and then, suddenly, by means of a great whirling saw, finds one side of himself as flat as a wall, is almost truculent. You expect him to cry out. But he is sliced up before he has time to think. I saw one of the smaller trunks cut into eight three-inch twenty-one-feet planks in seven seconds. In a very few minutes more these were trimmed and thrust out into the building world; so far ready for use. Large and small