the leading Canadian
politicians are boarding here while Parliament is sitting, and I am
interested to see them.

After visiting the beautiful library and other parts of the government
buildings, I had the good luck to hear, in the House of Representatives,
a debate between Mr. Chapleau, a minister and one of the leaders of the
Conservatives now in office, and Mr. Laurier, one of the chiefs of the
Opposition. Both gentlemen are French. It was a fight between a tribune
and a scholar; between a short, thickset, long-maned lion, and a tall,
slender, delicate fox.

[Illustration: "THE RADIANT, LOVELY CANADIENNE."]

After lunch, I went to Rideau Hall, the residence of the
Governor-General, Lord Stanley of Preston. The executive mansion stands
in a pretty park well wooded with firs, a mile out of the town. His
Excellency was out, but his aid-de-camp, to whom I had a letter of
introduction, most kindly showed me over the place. Nothing can be more
simple and unpretentious than the interior of Rideau Hall. It is
furnished like any comfortable little provincial hotel patronized by the
gentry of the neighborhood. The panels of the drawing-room were painted
by Princess Louise, when she occupied the house with the Marquis of
Lorne some eight or ten years ago. This is the only touch of luxury
about the place. In the time of Lord Dufferin, a ball-room and a tennis
court were added to the building, and these are among the many souvenirs
of his popular rule. As a diplomatist, as a viceroy, and as an
ambassador, history will one day record that this noble son of Erin
never made a mistake.

In the evening, I lectured in the Opera House to a large audience.

* * * * *

_Kingston, February 6._

This morning, at the Russell, I was called at the telephone. It was His
Excellency, who was asking me to lunch at Rideau Hall. I felt sorry to
be obliged to leave Ottawa, and thus forego so tempting an invitation.

Kingston is a pretty little town on the border of Lake Ontario,
possessing a university, a penitentiary, and a lunatic asylum, in
neither of which I made my appearance to-night. But as soon as I had
started speaking on the platform of the Town Hall, I began to think the
doors of the lunatic asylum had been carelessly left open that night,
for close under the window behind the platform, there began a noise
which was like Bedlam let loose. Bedlam with trumpets and other
instruments of torture.