nce alone, the very contrary to what she states, I will merely
quote the peroration of Governor Everett's Address:--

"Yon simple monument shall rise a renewed memorial of their names on
this sacred spot, where the young, the brave, the patriotic, poured out
their life-blood in defence of that heritage which has descended to us.
We this day solemnly bring our tribute of gratitude. Ages shall pass
away; the majestic tree which overshadows us shall wither and sink
before the blast, and we who are now gathered beneath it shall mingle
with the honoured dust we eulogise; but the `Flowers of Essex' shall
bloom in undying remembrance; and, with every century, these rites of
commemoration shall be repeated, as the lapse of time shall continually
develope, in rich abundance, the fruits of what was done and suffered by
our forefathers!"

I can, however, give the reader a key to Miss Martineau's praise or
condemnation of every person mentioned in her two works: you have but to
ask the question, "Is he, or is he not, an abolitionist?"

Governor Everett is _not_.

VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER TWENTY.

Montreal, next to Quebec, is the oldest looking and most aristocratic
city in all North America. Lofty houses, with narrow streets, prove
antiquity. After Quebec and Montreal, New Orleans is said to take the
next rank, all three of them having been built by the French. It is
pleasant to look upon any structure in this new hemisphere which bears
the mark of time upon it. The ruins of Fort Putnam are one of the
curiosities of America.

Montreal is all alive--mustering here, drilling there, galloping every
where; and, moreover, Montreal is knee-deep in snow, and the thermometer
below zero. Every hour brings fresh intelligence of the movements of
the rebels, or patriots--the last term is doubtful, yet it may be
correct. When they first opened the theatre at Botany Bay, Barrington
spoke the prologue, which ended with these two lines:--

"True _Patriots_ we, for be it understood,
We left our country, for our country's good."

In this view of the case, some of them, it is hoped, will turn out
patriots before they die, if they have not been made so already.

Every hour comes in some poor wretch, who, for refusing to join the
insurgents, has been made a beggar; his cattle, sheep, and pigs driven
away; his fodder, his barns, his house, all that he possessed, now
reduced to ashes. The cold-blooded, heartless murder of Lieutenant