ially republicanism. Amid
these two classes, and sprinkled among the rank and file, was found a
sentiment extremely patriotic, with those who saw nothing worth living
for outside of the purview of the "tight little island."

There seems a destiny in the propriety of territory changing dominion.
God seems to have given this beautiful earth, with its lands, to be
utilized and a source of blessing, not to be locked by the promptings of
avarice nor the clog of incapacity; that it should be occupied by those
who, either by the accident of locality or superior ability, can make it
the most efficient in development. There should be, and usually is,
regard for acquired rights, save in the case of Africans, Indians, or
other weak peoples, when cupidity and power hold sweet converse. Nor
should we slightly estimate the feeling of loyalty to the land of birth
and the hearths of our fathers, the impulse that nerves the arm to
strike, and the soul to dare; that brings to our country's altar all
that we have of life to repel the invader of our homes or the usurper of
our liberties. That has given to the world a Washington, a Toussant, a
Bozzaris--a loyalty that will ever stand with cloven helmet and crimson
battle-ax in the van of civilization and progress. But, like other
ennobling sentiments, it can be perverted, allowing it to permeate every
view of government, finding its ultimatum in the conclusion that, if
government is despotic or inefficient, it is to be endured and not
removed. Such patriots are impressed with the conviction that the people
were made for governments, and not governments for the people. A
celebrated poet has said--

"Our country's claim is fealty,
I grant you so; but then
Before man made us citizens
Great Nature made us men."

Men with essential wonts and laudable aspirations, the attainment of
which can be accelerated by the fostering love and enlightened zeal of a
progressive government.

In 1859 at Esquimault, the naval station for British Columbia, I had a
pleasant meeting with Lady Franklin, widow of Sir John Franklin, the
Arctic explorer, who sailed in 1845 and was supposed to have perished in
1847. With a woman's devotion, after many years of absence, she was
still in quest, hoping, from ship officer or seaman of her Majesty's
service, some ray of light would yet penetrate the gloom which
surrounded his "taking off" in that terra incognito of the North pole,
whose attractio