The Canadians see with sorrow the ills which afflict their neighbours, in spite of all the ill-advised menaces of the Northern Press; but they felt naturally indignant at being spoken of as if they were a mere chattel, which could be taken away by the United States from Great Britain in order to spite her. With such turbulent and dangerous elements at work close to them, they will no doubt eagerly assist the authorities in their efforts to secure their borders and their country, by putting the militia on a proper footing. The patriotism of the Legislature can be relied on to do this. England will do the rest, and give her best blood, if need be, to aid this magnificent dependency of the same Crown as that to which she is herself subject, in maintaining the present situation. It was most agreeable to hear praise instead of grumbling, and to know that amid no ordinary difficulties the troops were landed and conveyed across the snows of Nova Scotia and New Brunswick in the month of January without casualty or mishap worth mentioning, and that the arrangements were worthy of every commendation. It made us feel proud of our army when we saw the cheerfulness, soldierly look, cleanliness, and deportment of the men, and learnt that they had conducted themselves in the most exemplary manner, though exposed to great temptation by the hospitality of the New Brunswickers and the cheapness of intoxicating liquors. And what wonderful vicissitudes of service those officers and men have seen! Here is a face yet burned by the suns of India, encircled in fur-cap, and peering into the railway carriage to welcome some well-known friend from China or Aldershot. There marches a sturdy Guardsman, one of the few who remain of the men of Alma and Inkerman, with that small ladder of glory on his breast. Here is one of the old Riflemen--alas, most gracious Queen! they feel proud in sadness of their name now--one of “the Prince Consort’s Own Rifle Brigade,” who heard, that bright evening when our good ship was gliding through the blue waters of the Dardanelles, the rich chorus of those manly voices, most of which are silenced for ever:-- “Soldiers, merrily march away! Soldier’s glory lives in story, His laurels are green when his locks are grey, Then hurrah for the life of a soldier!” Firm and clean and straight as of yore, under all his load of greatcoat, furs, and boots, struts the soldier of the 47th, mindful of De Lacy Evans, “little Inkerman,” and of the greater in which it was eclipsed. Will he be as trim and neat, I wonder, if they take away his white facings? Of the old “fours”--the second brigade of the division which with the light divided the “general” fighting--the 41st and 47th, though perhaps no better, always looked better than the 49th, because of their facings.