To-day the Red Man slowly yields to the ever-advancing march of the dominant and civilizing white; his means of sustenance by the chase, or of livelihood by his skill as a trapper, have been destroyed. The Indian tribes are, under the Indian treaties, required to remain within large blocks of territory called "Reserves," so that now in his poverty he is maintained upon these "reservations" solely by the dole of the peoples by whom his native country has been absorbed; yet, though so changed in their circumstances, his descendants still cling with resolute fortitude and pathetic eagerness to these ancient insignia of their native worth. These rudely-formed emblems, in outline and shape mainly taken from the animals and birds of the plain and forest, are the memorials in his decadence of the long past days when his forefathers were the undisputed monarchs of all the wilds and possessors of its widest domains. They are the Indian patents of nobility, and thus are clung to with all the pride of ancient race. This Instinct in man to attach a national meaning to some vital emblem, and to display it as evidence of his patriotic fervour, is thus found to be all-pervading. The accuracy of its form may not be exact--it may, indeed, be well-nigh indistinguishable in its outlines--but whenever it be raised aloft, the halo of patriotic meaning, with which memory has illumined it, is answered by the flutterings of the bearer's heart; self is lost in inspiring recollection; clanship, absorbing the individual, enfolds him as one of a mighty whole, and the race-blood that is deep within him springs quick into action, obedient to the stirring call. The fervour of this manifestation was eloquently expressed by Lord Dufferin in narrating some incidents which had occurred during one of his official tours through Canada, when Governor-General of the country, the greatest daughter-nation among the children of the Union Jack: "Wherever I have gone, in crowded cities, in the remote hamlets, the affection of the people for their Sovereign has been blazoned forth against the summer sky by every device which art could fashion or ingenuity invent. Even in the wilds and deserts of the land, the most secluded and untutored settler would hoist some cloth or rag above his shanty, and startle the solitude of the forest with a shot from his rusty firelock and a lusty cheer from himself and his children in glad allegiance to his country's Queen. Even the Indian in his forest and on his reserve would marshal forth his picturesque symbols of fidelity in grateful recognition of a Government that never broke a treaty or falsified its plighted word to the Red Man, or failed to evince for the ancient children of the soil a wise and conscientious solicitude."[1] [1] Lord Dufferin, Toronto Club, 1874.