From whose triumphant throats the cheers,
At Chrysler's Farm, at Chateauguay,
Storming like clarion-bursts our ears?

On soft Pacific slopes,--beside
Strange floods that northward rave and fall,--
Where chafes Acadia's chainless tide--
Thy sons await thy call.

They wait; but some in exile, some
With strangers housed, in stranger lands,--
And some Canadian lips are dumb
Beneath Egyptian sands.

O mystic Nile! Thy secret yields
Before us; thy most ancient dreams
Are mixed with far Canadian fields
And murmur of Canadian streams.

But thou, my country, dream not thou!
Wake, and behold how night is done,--
How on thy breast, and o'er thy brow,
Bursts the uprising sun!

Charles G. D. Roberts

Love your country, believe in her, honour her, work for her, live for
her, die for her. Never has any people been endowed with a nobler
birthright or blessed with prospects of a fairer future.

Lord Dufferin

SCROOGE'S CHRISTMAS

(On Christmas Eve, Scrooge, "a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping,
clutching, covetous old sinner," is visited by three ghosts in
succession--The Ghost of Christmas Past, the Ghost of Christmas Present,
and the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. The first recalled the
experiences of Scrooge's youth, the second showed him Christmas as it
might be spent and incidentally, too, what some people thought of him.
The third showed him the "shadows of the things that have not happened,
but will happen in the time before us." He saw himself dead, uncared
for, unwept, unwatched, his effects plundered by the charwoman,
laundress, and undertaker's man and realized the end to which he must
come unless he led an altered life. Holding up his hands he prayed to
have his fate reversed and saw the Ghost shrink and dwindle down into a
bedpost.)

Yes! and the bedpost was his own. The bed was his own, the room was his
own. Best and happiest of all, the Time before him was his own to make
amends in.

"I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future!" Scrooge
repeated, as he scrambled out of bed. "The Spirits of all Three shall
strive within me. O Jacob Marley! Heaven and the Christmas Time be
praised for this! I say it on my knees, old Jacob; on my knees!"

He was so fluttered and so glowing with his good intentions, that his
broken voice could scarcely answer to his call. He had been sobbing
violentl