immortalized in history by the pen of Parkman--will be as noted in song and story as the Rhine, and will have its Irving to make it as famous as the lovely Hudson. Of course there are many obstacles in the way of successful literary pursuits in Canada. Our population is still small, and separated into two distinct nationalities, who for the most part necessarily read books printed in their own tongue. A book published in Canada then has a relatively limited _clientèle_ in the country itself, and cannot meet much encouragement from publishers in England or in the United States who have advantages for placing their own publications which no Canadian can have under existing conditions. Consequently an author of ambition and merit should perforce look for publishers outside his own country if he is to expect anything like just appreciation, or to have a fair chance of reaching that literary world which alone gives fame in the true sense. It must be admitted too that so much inferior work has at times found its way from Canada to other countries that publishers are apt to look askance at a book when it is offered to them from the colonies. Still, while this may at times operate against making what is a fairly good bargain with the publisher--and many authors, of course, believe with reason that a publisher, as a rule, never makes a good bargain with an author, and certainly not with a new one--a good book will sooner or later assert itself whenever Canadians write such a book. Let Canadians then persevere conscientiously and confidently in their efforts to break through the indifference which at present tends to cramp their efforts and dampen their energy. It is a fashion with some colonial writers to believe that there is a settled determination on the part of English critics to ignore their best work, when, perhaps, in the majority of cases it is the lack of good work that is at fault. Such a conclusion sometimes finds an argument in the fact that, when so able a Canadian as Edward Blake enters the legislative halls of England, some ill-natured critic, who represents a spirit of insular English snobbery, has only a sneer for "this Canadian lawyer" who had better "stay at home," and not presume to think that he, a mere colonist, could have anything to say in matters affecting the good government of the British Empire. But the time has long since passed for sneers at colonial self-government or colonial intellect, and we are more likely hereafter to have a Canadian House of Commons held up as a model of decorum for so-called English gentlemen. Such able and impartial critical journals as _The Athenæum_ are more ready to welcome than ignore a good book in these days of second-rate literature in England itself. If we produce such a good book as Mrs. Campbell Praed's "Australian Life," or Tasma's "Uncle Piper of Piper's Hill," we may be sure the English papers will do us justice. Let me