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grass and weed saw it slowly sucked down by the weight of the heavy belt of cartridges round its waist, till it vanished into the awful unfathomed depths below, where no human eye could see it, no human power reach it. Then the canoe lying higher up was seized, soon shaken from its resting place and floated merrily down the current, out into the rush where the fight between the tide and river waged fiercest. And then the waves turned with the bravery born of success upon a new object. Menteith, the fascination of the dreadful spot being gone, rose with a sigh and turned his steps towards his own boat. As if Heaven had sent its own veil, solely for the purpose of shrouding the deed of its own executioner, the mist slowly rose, and the morning sun shone as brightly on rock, and lighthouse, and river, with the fair bay of Tadousac glinting and sparkling in the distance, with its white hotel not yet awake, and its quaint and ancient little church standiug out boldly against a background of grey mountain and yellow sand ridge, just as though no minister of God's justice had visited the spot in the early dawn of day.

way or cleverly creeping up the icy slope past the Esplanade. From farms and villages, dotted all about the white landscape and snugly perched on the sides of the mountain ranges which guard the city ; from straggling Beauport, from St. Foye and the two Lorettes, come sleighs of all kinds and fashions, from the queer little red cariole of the small farmer, with its coarse buffalo robes, to the well-appointed graceful vehicle whose glossy black bear-skin sweeps the snow behind it. The air is melodious with the sound of sleigh bells. Here, tuned to a sweet harmonious jangle, a group, silver-gilt, red-tasselled, adorns the proudbacks of the splendid greys which are whirling wealth home from its Christmas-tree shopping, while close by there comes a single, feeble tinkle from the neck of a plucky little beast which is drawing a load of wood for Christmas fires on a home-made traineau, and whose owner, red-capped and blanket-coated, trudges patiently by its side with many a cheering 'va donc !' meditating hopefully on the prospects of a sale.

Looking down from Durham Terrace, the warm lights peeping from under the steep tin-covered roofs of the houses far below, upon which the snow cannot rest, the wide stretch of the river, now bearing not a ship on her dark cold bosom, but not yet frozen over, though soon to be so if the Fates are kind ; the high banks and houses of Levis, snow-covered but dotted with fire-light and lamp-light across the water, with all their suggestions of life and cheerfulness, cold and misery, of man defying nature, and nature, still and deadly, biding her time to catch him unawares. All these things make up a picture upon which a man may look long and think long From one of the windows of a house close by a man was looking and thinking ; for the better part of four months he had had but little chance of doing either.

When Colin Menteith, guided by


the year.

YHRISTMAS Eve in Quebec ;

quaint, dear, old, historic Quebec. The city is looking at its very best as the representative city of a land where snow reigns for a third of

Other cities may boast of summer charms, but Quebec, glorious under its summer sun, is enchanting under its winter snows. All is life and fun and bustle to-night, and the streets, where the snow is so dry with frost that it is kicked before the foot of the passer-by like sand, are filled with crowds of people making preparation for the genial morrow. Fabrique Street and St. Johns are alive with sleighs dashing along the narrow road

instinct, stumbled in a foolish drunken with its load of brown hair nodded fashion into the stern of the fisher- backwards and forwards in the playman's boat, where his friends were ful clutch of the waves, and as it slid awaiting him, he fell into a sleep away to join the merry dance of driftwhich lasted till, one day his natural wood he would shriek at it till it vanself awoke once more, to find a body ished from a gaze which had known 80 weakened that not a muscle could nothing of its presence into a whirl of be found with strength to lift a finger water which existed only in imaginafrom the bed on which he was lying ; tion. Then-he would begin the with all his brown curly hair clipped whole scene over again ! Fortunately and shived off, and with cheeks so no particular excitement had been sunken and eyes so hollow that caused by the disappearance of Frank it was only a matter of wonder that Devor. He had gone out in a birch the soul ever found again a body bark canoe, to shoot on the reef, beso much changed for the worse. He fore daybreak, a rash thing for a nohad had an attack of brain fever. vice to do at any time, and a particuFortunately, Cranstoun was in the larly rash act in a heavy mist. His boat when he had reached it, and, com- canoe had been found, half filled with prehending more than he saw, he had water, far down the river, it was conveyed his poor friend up to Que- empty. A sad accident' had ocbec, though with infinite difficulty, till curred, and Mr. Devor was 'drowned.' he was able to place him in comfort- So the newspapers said, and they able quarters, and under medical care. ! ought to know. The Saguenay River How terrible had been the struggle contradicted the story. The doctors for life, when, the brain on fire with at Quebec, of whom Cranstoun anxiexcitement, allowed no moment of ously enquired respecting the origin rest to the poor worn-out body. See- of these strange hallucinations of his ing, with the vividness of its original friend's brain, were quite authoritahorrible reality, a struggle with a foe tive upon the subject; and their lucid who did not exist, feeling the stabs of explanations of how, in inflammatory a knife which was not even a shadow, disease of the brain, the ganglia conheaving up on high, in arms which necting the sensory nerves from the soon ceased to possess the power of eye with the cerebral centres of vision raising even themselves, the sinewy and the gray matter of the frontal athletic frame of his phantom opponi- convolutions, were capable of producent-hearing that horrible scream of ing most realistic impressions upon agony, the voite of the real homme the brain, which had no element of qui crie,' ringing through ears which reality in fact, were most edifying in truth heard nothing; and then, with and satisfactory to the listener. Mr. one superhuman effort, dashing the Cranstoun's friend had probably, they hateful form on to the cold wet rocks, conjectured, been a great reader of when his own bed was the hardest novels. Mr. Cranstoun admitted that spot present to receive the creature of

he was. his fancy–what wonder that, strong man as he was, mind destroyed mat- As Menteith, sitting, weakly enough, ter and life hung by a thread. Then, but still sanely, in his invalid's chair, for hours, he would sit up in his bed looks dreamily out in the depressing perfectly still, watching with glaring dusk of evening into the cold world eyes the twirling of eddies and cur- beyond his window, the warm firerents as they rushed with resistless light and lighted lamps within trying force around and around-poor soul ! in vain to coax him into kindlier -bis bedroom. He would look on, thoughts, a tiny tap comes to bis door, panting, while the dreadful head, and, after a severe struggle with the

handle, a little three-year-old girl puts her golden head into the room, and having entered, and, with a backward push of her whole small body's weight, shut the door with a loud slam, a delicate notification to the invalid's ears of her presence there, and one duly appreciated, says, by way probably of a concession to the politenesses of society, May I tum in ?

• Tum in, indeed !' he says. Well, I should say you are in already. What do you think??

They both laugh over this big joke, and the mite, who carries a doll with the pinkest of cheeks, tawniest of hair and bluest of eyes, cuddled up to her own wee breast like the miniature woman she is, to say nothing of a big picture book of nursery tales under the other arm, runs across the room to his chair, and, first depositing her load upon his knees, noisily drags another chair to his side as a means of mounting to the same blissful emi


all the response she makes to his appeal.

Some more is there? On with the steam then.'

His hand involuntarily plays about his watch-chain, and the locket his fingers open shows a fair young girl face opposite to a lock of soft, brown hair, wonderfully like to the face of the little maiden in her white frock, with its blue sash around her tiny waist, standing opposite to him.

With a gulp for a fresh stock of breath she goes on

The tin' was in his tountin' house

Tountin' out his money,
The tween was in the parlour

Eatin' bed an honey,
The maid was in the darden

Hanin' out the toes,
Tame a 'ittle bat-bird

And nipped off her nose.' 'There ! now you tan tiss me if you like--it's finis d.' she added, graciously

His hand was over his face, and, as the child looked, two big drops came trickling down upon the book. Why, you're tyin,

tyin',' she said, don't ty.' And she nestled her face in his breast by way of conferring her small utmost of consolation. He drew her to him and kissed her.

· Let me tum up and see the lotit,' said the fairy ; and, without waiting for permission, she proceeded to mount upon his knee.

· Who is this, Alie?' he said, holding up the locket before her.

Poor mamma,' she said, kissing the locket.

"And who am I!'

This was evidently a regular business—this game of question and answer.

You? You're poor mamma's old lover,' she replied.

And what are you?' he went on. * I'm poor mamma's darling.'

Anything else? She burst into a perfect ripple of laughter, and, throwing her pretty arms about his neck, she screamed out:

Yes! I'm your little sweetheart, for ever and ever.'

"Well, little witch,' he says, stroking the golden head fondly, and what bave you got to say to me?'

‘Oh, I've dot sumpsin to say to zoo pesently.'

"Oh, now ! let it be now,' he answers. I implore you, fair maid, not “pesently." I bate pesently.'

Then, after a pretty affectation of finding the place for him in her book by the letterpress rather than by the pictures, she descended from her perch and, with hands folded decorously behind her little back, enchants the ears of her audience by reciting, in a manner print can but faintly express, the well-beloved of children ditty :

Sin' a song o'sispence,

Pot it till o' hie,
Sor an' tenty bat birds

Bate in a pie.
When the pie was opened

The birds bedan to sin',
Wasn't that a dainty dis'



To set before the tiu'.'

* If you don't come and kiss me at once,' he says, “I shall


mad.' She is quite accustomed to his chaff. • Be twiet, there's some more,' is




THRO' fretted roof, and dim cathedral aisle,

With heart and voice, prolong the glad refrain
Of Angel's song, first heard o'er Bethlehem's plain,
Thro' centuries of war, of strife, and guile;
And shall we not cry peace! aye, peace to all,

And joy as well, in Christmas homes to-day ;

May speech and song and ancient roundelay
Old bygone memories and joys recall ;
For we are one by human sighs and tears,

And link'd by bonds, both sacred and divine;
While race to race, in all the future years

Rich in all knowledge of the passing time,
Shall wider grow, and science, art proclaim

Good will to all of every clime and name.


Do any of the guests ever make them. I prefer to have all my books,

scrap-books, I wonder! Scrap- of the same size and style, and in pastbooks are so nice, I really love to look ing my scraps I always use a napkin at them. To me no book is half so inter- or a linen rag, and rub my scraps esting as a pretty scrap-book, with the down hard on the page, until there is scraps neatly pasted in,--of course, not a wrinkle or a crease to be seen. and a few pictures to relieve the When it dries it looks as hard and britmonotony. I am a regular old scrap- tle as a printed page in any book. I book maker, and I think I have re- never use flour paste, nor gum arabic, duced the art to a real science. nor mucilage, which is nearly the One might just as well make a hand- same thing, because the former gets some scrap-book as an ugly one. It sour, and, by-and-bye, the scraps begin may require more pains and a little to peel off; and the gum runs through exercise of the quality called patience, | to the ink, and the clipping soon comperhaps, but look at the result! I mences to look soiled and black. My have no less than four scrap-books, brother is a clerk in a drug store, and and when my friends drop in on me of he has enlightened me as to the best a rainy or stormy day, they tell me it article for scrap-book purposes. Ask is a real pleasure to sit by the fire in any chemist's shop for a little with one of my scrap-books before druggist's paste, and you can get



enough for a few cents to make a book -Just about this time everybody has of forty or fifty pages.

You can see

been wishing everybody else, a 'Merry the stuff I mean in small jars on Christmas,' and family parties have the apothecary's counter. It is used met to discuss the regulation turkey for sticking on labels, and it is a clean and plum pudding, and surprises, more and almost transparent substance. or less successful, have been contrived, You never have any trouble with it. and all well-conditioned persons have It is always available, and if, from been doing their best in looks, and long standing, it should become dry, a speech, and behaviour, to do honour tablespoonful of hot or cold water will to the grest fête day of the year. And, soon make it all right again, and re- no doubt, some of those more philoduce it to the proper consistence for sophical and advanced'individuals, immediate use.

If you want to make whose mission it seems to be to make the paste yourself, all you have to do simple folk uncomfortable, have been is to ask at your druggist's for half moralising, inwardly, if not outwardly,

ounce of pure gum tragacanth on the hollowness and conventionality and a quarter of an ounce of gum of the whole thing, and wondering how acacia. Mix these together in a cup, long this highly developed age, with its and pour water over them.

In an

culture' and common sense, is going hour or two the paste will be ready, to keep up so childish an observance. and I have never known it to prove Well, we may at once admit that the unsatisfactory

merry Christmas' is often a mere forIn making your scrap-book you mality, that the average Christmas should aim at variety, and as there party is often a very common-place are plenty of coloured pictures to be affair, that Christmas gifts are not alhad at small prices, there can be no ways the spontaneous tokens of affecdifficulty in securing that end. Do tion, but are often rather a heavy tax not fill your book with pictures either, on the slender resources of ill-furbut pay particular attention to your nished purses, and that it is by no reading matter. There are hundreds

meanscommon forlong absentand long of pretty poems going about in the estranged prodigal sons, or husbands, newspapers, numberless anecdotes of or brothers, to return appropriately, famous personages, cute little stories, on the eve of Christmas day, as they funny paragraphs, sketches of people invariably do in the blessed realm of and clever newspaper criticisms of


What then! We don't men, women and books, and from have ideal Christmases any more than these materials it is a very easy thing, we have ideal lives. We have them for any one of taste, to make quite an to match these very commonplace and acceptable volume of the brightest imperfect lives and characters of ours; things to be had. I know a young but though they partake, as they needs friend of mine who has been making must, of human imperfection, it does scrap-books for five years, and she has not at all follow that we should be no less than ten complete volumes, better without them. No ! let us be and a new one partly under way now. thankful for our Christmas day, even I never tire of looking at them. I apart 'from the great event which think one can hardly do better during it more specially commemorates, and the coming winter evenings than in honour of which we chant our spend an odd hour, now and then, in

Christmas song:

Let us be thankful the very enjoyable occupation of mak- that, even in the scientific reign of ing a scrap-book. The pleasure after- Professor Huxley and his disciples, wards will amply repay all the trouble this great Christian observance keeps you may go to.

its place, a witness to the power of SOPHIE. mind over matter, and to the deathless

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