abstractions, or side issues; but each, and each in his place and in accordance with his ability to grapple with the theme, bends to the work before him with the determination of doing, if not the best thing, the next best thing which the exigency of the case demands. There are not many harangues; but those that are made are delivered by those who speak to the point, and have studied, and in many cases exhausted the subject. In a word, the houses of parliament, like the halls of the corps legislatif of France, and like the legislative councils of other European states, are the places for the transaction of business, and not the theatres of a vain and personal display.

It is a humiliating confession that the legislature of this state, those of many of our sister states, and ev en the congress of the United States, do not compare favorably, in the points we have mentioned, with the legislative bodies of the leading nations of Europe. The most active and energetic people in the world is certainly entitled to be represented by active and energetic men. But in taking up the reported proceedings of our national legislature, one can not fail to be struck, not only with their lack of dignity and decorum, but likewise with the slipshod and immature manner in which their business is transacted. We are everywhere met with a superfluity of words which weakens the force of ideas and wearies the patience of people of sense. Whole days of the precious time of the present congress are given up to the delivery of speeches which could profitably be condensed to the limit of a single hour. There is a wonderful prepon

derance of words over ideas; of speech over action; of things said over things done. Even the strongest men in congress seem to think that their connection with an important piece of legislation is completed when they have delivered a long speech on the subject. The labor of systematizing the vast business before them, of harmonizing conflicting opinions, of marshaling discordant theories up to a point where they can meet and coalesce in some practical act, of reducing chaos to some kind of order and law — all this seems to form no part of the duty of American legislators. To make a speech which will read well in some remote locality in the interior; to deliver an essay more appropriate to a quarterly review than to the halls of congress; to talk Buncombe by the hour, or to reel off platitudes by the square yard in the Washington Globe, seems to be the ambition of too many of our representatives in congress.

Add the time that is consumed in personal explanations, or on questions of privilege, in bandying epithets and settling disputes—add occasional scenes of discord and confusion worthy of a bear garden or a kennel of fighting dogs and we have a specimen of actualities not at all creditable to the assembled wisdom of the nation.

BRIEF NOTES IN CANADA.

Have you ever heard of the Wild Dog of Niagara ? Just below the suspension bridge on the Canada side, and hanging over the river to a height of some two hundred feet, runs for some distance a huge, broken

and over-reaching precipice, which no human being could climb or descend without assistance. Near the surface of the water and on the broken rocks, a large, noble looking and peculiarly marked New Foundland dog has been seen and heard, at various times during the past two years, and lately within a few weeks. This fact is authenticated by the testimony of many respectable and veracious eye witnesses, and as there is no way for the poor animal to return to civilized life and the amenities of human intercourse, he is a subject of much curious speculation. He is a kind of Robinson Crusoe among dogs, and it is supposed, picks up his precarious living from the fish and small animals on his beat which is only half a mile in length. His howling lamentations from the rocky recesses of his retreat are often heard at midnight, and a daring attempt to approach and save him was rendered fruitless by his ferocity. An additional air of romance has been thrown around his fate by the story that he is bemoaning his master whom he lost at the Clifton House some two years since. It is probable that he (the dog, and not the man), was washed ashore by the rapids, which sweep along here with terrific velocity. But whether an exile or a disheartened misanthrope, the poor cast away has the hearty sympathy of every one who approaches the spot and conjectures his probable fate.

St. Catharine's, now quite a famous resort for tourists and invalids, strikes the visitor as rather a dull and uninviting spot. There is nothing in the adjacent scenery to charm the eye; nor are there any local attractions, save St. Catharine's Well, worth visiting. The town,

which covers a good deal of ground and contains 7,000 or 8,000 inhabitants, is the first of any size and importance on the line of the Great Western Rail Road; the well and the leading hotels lie about a mile from the station house. Altogether the visitor with a sound body and a mind desirous of entertainment, would find it a difficult task to kill a week there.

The well, which is attached to the grounds of the Stephenson House, the leading hotel, is now sunk to a depth of nearly 600 feet. The water is forced up by a small steam engine, and is supplied in great abundance to the bathing establishment, which lies almost directly on the great Welland canal. Received into a cup directly from the well, the water effervesces very much like a seidlitz powder, but instantly subsides into a clear and transparent fluid indescribably nauseating to the taste. The "concentrated water" as it is called, from which the grosser salts are evaporated, is less unsavory, but it requires considerable practice to enable a patient to go through his doses without a grimace. I found the cold baths very invigorating, and causing an almost painful excitement of the nervous system. These baths should be used with great caution, and never by invalids without medical advice and superintendence. The hotels during my visit, early in August, were crowded, and invalids desiring permanent accommodations should apply early.

One hears and sees much in Canada of runaway negroes. The taverns and hotels in Upper Canada are abundantly supplied with black servants, a large portion of whom have been transplanted from the South.

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Their settlements, also, are chiefly in the region of the lakes, comparatively few venturing towards the St. Lawrence. Their condition is described by all impartial observers as pitable in the extreme. Unsuited by nature to the rigors of a northern climate, they soon "dwindle, peak and pine," amid all the pangs of starvation by cold and hunger. Intelligent Englishmen say that if the Southern states would pass laws prohibiting the division of slave families, nine out of ten of the runaways would return to their homes. The colonial system of attempting to raise the black man to a level of the white man is pronounced an entire failure. The encouragement of black emigration has loaded the poor houses and the jails, while the loathsome intermarriages which are allowed, and even encouraged, have caused in some localities a terrible demoralization.

Stories abound of the dissatisfaction expressed by the expatriated blacks. A short time since an extensive planter from Kentucky visiting the Clifton House, received many voluntary attentions from a poorly dressed young black, who finally said, "Massa Col'nel, don't you know me?" "No," said the Colonel, “I never saw you before." The young fellow then declared himself a runaway from the Colonel's plantation near Louisville, and demanded alms. His old master gave him a sufficient sum of money to replace his rags with a decent suit of clothes, when the following conversation is described as having taken place:

"Well,

"Massa, should like to go back to Kentuck." Jack, I shall not give a cent to help you back. You have run away from a good home, and you can run back