to appear in the next. Poor Sinclair was unsettled this long time. Why, he refused to subscribe to the hounds!" "Hush, Beresford. We can only speak from hearsay, you know," interrupted the cautious man. "Pray, sir" (to Mr. Fitzpatrick), may I ask if your acquaintance with the family is of long date." 66 By no means, sir. I know them very slightly," replied he, stifflv. "There will not be very much for the young fellow. I dare say he won't sell out." "I should think not. It would take a mint of money to set this place in decent order. Did you ever see such a tumble-down old hole?" "What is the rent-roll, do you suppose?" asked Mr. Fitzpatrick, carelessly. "They say about seven hundred; but you know these things get overrated down here," replied the talkative Beresford. Mr. Fitzpatrick, having heard all he wanted to know, bowed to them ceremoniously, and turned on his heel. "I say, O'Brien, who is that disagreeable old bird? Do you know him?" asked Beresford, catching an acquaintance who was passing by his button. "Which, my dear fellow?" "The old fellow with the stiff back and the sour face." "What? That man?" looking in the direction indicated. "That is Mr. Fitzpatrick of Finn Hill. Young Cecil is engaged to his daughter." "Nonsense! You don't say so!" cried Beresford, in tones of incredulity and annoyance. "You've put your foot in it this time, my fine young man." "Why, what has he been saying?" inquired the last comer. "He has informed Mr. Fitzpatrick that there's madness in the Sinclair family." "Poor Cecil, I had no wish to do him an ill turn. I wish I had bitten my tongue out first," cried the impulsive Beresford. Mr. Fitzpatrick brooded over the information thus received all the rest of the morning. He picked up some more disjointed scraps confirmatory of it as he threaded his way through the crowded room. The funeral was over, and the place quiet again. Cecil disappeared. He had returned to the churchyard that he might relieve his laden heart by one burst of weeping, unseen by all but God. The strain upon him had been very painful. His character was affectionate and generous, but not very strong. He must needs have some one to lean upon for comfort and counsel; and now that his brother was gone, Geraldine would have to be that supporting friend. His thoughts turned naturally to her when the first rush of his grief had spent itself over the fresh clay. He was young-life had some joy in store for him. His fair, fond Geraldine would be his comforter. When his musings took this brighter turn, he was walking slowly towards Desert, through the village, in at the old rusty gates hanging half off their hinges, and up the avenue which was ploughed by cart-tracks. At a happier time he might have noticed the ruined look of everything, but it made no impression upon him now. Mr. Fitzpatrick, however, observed it all. It chimed in with Mr. Beresford's account of the embarrassed condition of the property, and convinced him that Geraldine would not be making such a good match after all, even though Cecil should be sole owner of Desert. He would get out of it. The insanity would be a very fair plea. James walked beside him, but did not share his thoughts. He saw quite enough to make his guardian silent and gloomy in the events of the last few days. He thought it was a kind impulse that made the old gentleman quicken his steps when Cecil appeared, and was horrified at what followed. Any one else would have abstained from reproach at such a time; but though Mr. Fitzpatrick saw the poor fellow's eyes red with weeping, he felt no compunction. "You are a villain, sir-a dastardly villain," was his fierce address. "Uncle!" cried James, thinking his guardian must have gone mad, "do you know what you are saying?" "Hold your tongue, James. He knows what I mean. He knows there is madness in his family, yet he tries to sneak into mine. It's well for Geraldine I heard of it in time. Did you know of this insanity? Answer me." Cecil grew a shade paler than before. "I did know it, sir." "Then, in the name of all the devils, why did you conceal it, sir?" "Oh, uncle, another time! Pray, pray do not speak of this now," entreated James, taking hold of the enraged man's arm. Mr. Fitzpatrick shook him off angrily. "Mind your own business, James. I must take care of Geraldine, I tell you. She shall never enter a mad family with my consent." "Mr. Fitzpatrick, do not be so unmerciful." "You forget yourself, James. Captain Sinclair will admit that I am strictly just. He is aware that he had no right to hide his brother's condition from me." "I did not know it," faltered Cecil, who had seemed stunned by the first attack. "I may have feared something wrong, but I certainly did not know anything." "You had heard this horrid story about your grandfather?" "Yes, I had heard it." "And knowing it, you tried to ally yourself with me. How dare sir? You should never think of marriage." you, "Perhaps I ought to have told; but was I to throw away my chance of happiness? Was I to risk losing Geraldine, who loves me?" "You have lost her. I swear I won't give her to you." "Then you'll break her heart, Mr. Fitzpatrick. I shall not speak of myself, but Geraldine loves me dearly. Surely you will not make her miserable." "She will get over it. Girls don't die for love now-a-days. Besides, I trust she knows the duty and obedience she owes her father. She will submit to my will cheerfully. A Fitzpatrick, moreover, never forgets what is due to her family." And his breast swelled out with pride as he mentioned the name of his poor, proud line. "I must hear all that from her own lips, Mr. Fitzpatrick. I believe she is too sensible to throw away her happiness for any chimera of the kind." "You shall never see her again, Captain Sinclair-never, by-- You have taken me in, and I never forgive a man who has deceived me. Go, James, and pack up at once. I shall leave Desert in an hour. You may save yourself the trouble of saying a word. I should disdain to sleep another night under his roof." Then, despite his grief, Cecil's anger rose very high. "It is well for you that you are an old man, and Geraldine's father, sir, else I might not suffer you to quit Desert alive." And as if he distrusted his own powers of self-control, he turned away quickly and hurried into the house. James was excessively annoyed. He did not know what course he should take, for his remonstrances had no effect whatever upon his guardian; but while the selfish, passionate old man was getting on the car, for the use of which he was indebted to his insulted host, he rushed back into the house and into the office, where Cecil was standing in the midst of the books and papers, looking like one bewildered. The two young men shook hands very heartily. "I am quite at a loss as to what I ought to do or say, Galbraith; the whole thing is so unexpected." Keep up your heart, old fellow. Mr. Fitzpatrick is behaving most shamefully, but we shall all be on your side my aunt, Lucy, Mr. Oliver, everybody. Geraldine will never be brought to give you up.” "My dear, dear Geraldine! by me, do you think?" "I'm certain she will. Poor girl! Will she really stand She's as true and loyal as she can be. I ought to be able to answer for her, for I've known her all my life." "God bless you for the hope, Galbraith. Tell her I shall see her very soon-not all the fathers in the world could keep me away from her. Why, man, she is almost my wife; they daren't separate us!" cried poor Cecil, with a burst of anguish. "Tell her to be on the watch. She shall either see or hear from me very soon." A HYMN OF ASPIRATION.* BY MRS. M. A. BAINES. As drooping flowers pine for rain, Unto the end. How weary would the journey prove, Oh, give me Wisdom, Grace, and Love, Altho' the sky may be o'ercast, And storms may cloud my way; Yet let me see Thy face at last, And live in perfect day. In perfect day. These words have been set to music under the title "Thoughts of Heaven," a sacred song by Berthold Tours, published by Messrs. Duff and Stewart, 147, Oxford-street, London, W. THE SAN JUAN QUESTION. THE right of possession of San Juan Island implies much more than appears upon the surface. It is only one of a series of encroachments, ever perseveringly carried on by the Americans. As far as the decision of the imperial arbitrator itself is concerned, the experts and jurists engaged in its discussion were left no option but to decide against us. If any one will take a detailed map of the territory in question, he will see at a glance that the line of boundary starting from "the centre of the Gulf of Georgia in the parallel of forty-nine deg. north latitude, and continued thence southwards through the channel which separates the continent from Vancouver's Island, to the Straits of Juan de Fuca," would to a nautical man signify a line carried along the centre of the greater channel of Rosario, or to a general geographer, at the most, the Douglas Channel. But as the British government excluded this latter channel from arbitration, and left it a simple question between the Haro and the Rosario Straits-the easterly and westerly channels - the arbitrator had no option, not having any other question before him, as to priority of rights-which was the channel alone known and navigated at the time of the treaty and up to the time of Captain Richards's survey-which channel was hence understood by both parties to the treaty-and what was understood by the words "southwards through the channel," than to decide that the Haro Channel, looking simply to the points of the compass, is nearer south to the centre of the Gulf of Georgia in the parallel of forty-nine-the gulf making a great westerly bend at that point-than is the Strait of Rosario, and thus by the imperfect form in which the question was submitted to him, to cut off the San Juan Archipelago from the great land of Vancouver, to which it, to all intents and purposes, geographically, hydrographically, and physically belongs. The importance of the question, however, lies not so much in the decision, the result of which was as much determined beforehand by excluding the middle channel from the argument, as was the result of the arbitration upon the so-called Alabama claims by admitting laws enacted subsequently to the events, and calculated to meet them under a particular point of view only. It lies in the question whether in the face of the policy, so long and so persistently pursued by the United States towards the Canadian Dominion and British North America, the question |