What a furore that play made, and yet there was little or nothing in it. But success came from the fact that it struck the right note, and struck it at the moment when the nation was ready for the awakening. How it was boomed! Men rushed to join the Territorials, and even I was one of the first women to send in my name for the First Aid Nursing Yeomanry Corps. But, as they asked me to go to a riding-school to _learn_ to ride—I, who had ridden all my life—I really could not go further in the matter. Mr. Fielding is a most interesting personality and character. “We are so apt to forget the good things of life,” he said that evening. “I wanted a motor-bus just now. There was none at the corner, and I had to walk. I felt annoyed. Then I pulled myself up, and thought—How many dozen times have I caught this bus just at the moment I wanted it! Did I ever feel or express gratitude? Yet when I miss it I growl—now is this fair?—and I shook myself and felt ashamed.” “Very noble of you,” I said. “Not at all. But I am always saying to myself I have no right to grumble, no right to be annoyed while I omit to be thankful and grateful for the manifold blessings around me.” Speaking of nervousness being the cause of my refusal to go to Leeds that week to address five thousand people, Mr. Fielding laughed. “How I sympathise with you! For twenty years I have been before the public, and yet have never made a speech without a little twinge.” Of his chief, Laurier, he remarked: “It is an astonishing thing how much more English than French he has become. Forty years of constant communication with, and work amongst, British-speaking people has moulded him along British lines, and although the French manner and charm remain, British determination, doggedness, clear sight, and broad views are dominant. In fact, I far more often find him reading an English book than a French one, when I enter his library.” Then briefly touching on his own doings: “I’ve been in England two months, and sail to-morrow morning—came for two things, and accomplished both. First, the trade treaty with France begun eighteen months ago. Secondly, to raise six million sterling in London. I’ve also done that this week; and am now going home with the money, chiefly for our trans-continental railway. “Treaty? Well, as a rule, only kings can make treaties, but in Canada we are given a good deal of power. This is the second time I have been made a Plenipotentiary in a way—a one-man affair when ready, signed by Sir Francis Bertie.” “A treaty with France, and you don’t know French.” “Ah, but I know my subject, Mam. Don’t scorn me for my want of French. In the province where I was born it was not wanted, and when it was needed I was too busy to learn; telephone bells or messengers were going all the time, so I had to give it up, but I’ll learn it yet, I hope.” “Do you require French in the Canadian House?”