way
back, or not? However, it is a matter of not much consequence. If any of
us _should_ be taken prisoners and kept over here, it would not be for
long. Our people will of course overrun Canada within a week, and annex
it to the Northern States."

"Oh, they couldn't do _that_, you know!" said John Bull, who might
believe anything else, but who could not possibly be brought to believe
anything against the power of the British Government or its colonies,
when in arms.

"I believe that you are an Englishman by birth? Am I mistaken?" asked
Leslie, in a tone of ministerial gravity and dignity.

"Not at all mistaken, sir," said the Englishman, proudly. "John Hazelton
Butts, Leakington, Monmouthshire."

"John Thompson, Jr., late Secretary of Legation to the Duchy of Parma,"
said Leslie, picking up the first names that happened to come into mind,
and bowing in return. "You seem, Mr. Butts, to be a highly intelligent
gentleman--"

"Thank you, Mr. Secretary," said the Englishman, who had at least caught
the fictitious title.

"But, sir," Leslie went on, "it is impossible that any foreign resident
should know, concerning affairs on this continent, what necessarily
comes under _our_ knowledge. Perhaps you will be a little surprised when
I tell you that there is a secret order existing all along the borders
of the States adjoining these provinces, numbering more than three
hundred thousand men, all drilled weekly, and all sworn, in the event of
any opportunity occurring, to seize upon the Canadas and New Brunswick
at once?"

"Indeed I _am_ surprised," said the Englishman. "This is really the
case?"

"Really and incontestably, sir," answered Leslie. "You will see at once,
sir, what chance there could be of defending these provinces against
such an inroad. But come, Smith!" addressing Harding, "we must really
hurry back before the bridge closes. Good morning, Mr. Butts!--good
morning, gentlemen!" and Leslie hurried down from the observatory and
away, accompanied by Harding. Whether the Englishman at once went over
after his baggage, or not, is uncertain.

"What _is_ the use of all that, Tom?" asked Harding, when they were once
more in the carriage and rolling along the privet-hedged lanes.

"Use? oh, plenty of use!--_fun_! I have been as grave as a judge for
nearly a week; and besides, every Englishman whom I succeed in making
thoroughly uncomfortable, is one scion of the stock of _perfide Albion_
paid off for all old s