attention to the silver mounting on his cane, whereon was engraved, “Captain ----, of ----.” Without further inquiry as to who we were, he begged us to promise to come over and stay with him at his nice little place, and we should have some capital “cock shooting” next winter. The polite captain then insisted on treating us to mint-juleps at the bar, and there introduced us with great ceremony to a tall, angular man, as Major So-and-so, of the Canadian Rifles. The major was attired in a very seedy military undress suit, too small and too short for him, and he carried, like Bardolph, a “lantern in the poop,” which shone distinct from the more lurid and darker redness of the rest of his universally inflamed features. His manner was rather misty, yet solemn and grand withal, and he comported himself with so much dignity, that far was it from us to smile at his peculiar personal appearance. We all three bowed and shook hands with him with an urbanity almost equal to that of our friend the captain. Both our new acquaintances discovered that they were going to the same place as ourselves, and favoured us with their society assiduously until we reached the Clifton House. After viewing the Falls, we had dinner; and then the captain and major entertained us with extraordinary stories. The former related how he had lived at the Cape under Sir Harry Smith, ridden one hundred and fifty miles on the same horse in twenty-four hours, and various other feats, while the “major” obscurely hinted that he owed his present important command on the frontier to the necessity felt by the British Government that a man of known courage and talent should be responsible during the crisis of the _Trent_ affair. We returned to Toronto the next day, and lost no time in proceeding on our way to Red River, travelling as fast as possible by railway through Detroit and Chicago to La Crosse, in Wisconsin, on the banks of the Mississippi.