under the fire of the enemy, with the groans of the dying in his ears, and the red glare of battle lighting the sky around, Mr. Forbes jots down his notes as quietly as if he were in his own study at Maida Vale or in the office of that great journal whose agent he is at the seat of war. Nor does he rest with that. Out into the darkness and danger he dashes, rides leagues on leagues through foes and friends, till he arrives, weak and wounded, at a station, whence he can communicate with the world; and all in order that we at our breakfast tables next morning may know how the British laughed at their enemies at Ulundi, or how the Russians reeled back in despair from the terrible batteries of Plevna. On the morning after the despatch, describing Ulundi, was received, the name of Forbes was dividing at home in the public mind the place given to the actions of Ministers and the revelations of European politics. At the distance of thousands of miles, in a few hours after their occurrence, the one man gave to the great majority of the people of Britain, their present views of those events, and stamped the reputation of commanders with an impression which has not yet been erased. It is, in fact, one of the peculiar features of that calling, of which Mr. Forbes is an ornament, that its rewards, though few, doubtful, and generally acquired by patience and toil, are sometimes granted so suddenly and bestowed so munificently, as to surprise even their most deserving recipent. To labour on, unknown and uncared for, to see others get the credit and reap the profit of his finest efforts; to strive after the good and be blamed for advocating the bad; to spend a lifetime in constant toil and turn away in age without one word of thanks, one mark of gratitude, is too often the fate of the journalist of our day. But once in a while, as if to make amends to the few for the fate of the many, one name flames out in the world, strong and dazzling in its splendour, and showing

for the moment all the lights around it. A remarkable crisis in some country's history, a single campaign, it may be one letter, may suddenly lift some writer, hitherto unknown, or known only in that limited circle to which editorial rooms and upper stories are familiar, into the full glare of a worldwide fame. Though Mr. Forbes cannot be said to belong wholly to the latter class, he may justly be regarded as one of those to whose genius opportunity has been prodigal of gifts. Without his abilities, of course, he could not be what he is. But how far an iron frame, and a happy conjunction of circumstances, have helped him on, the world some day will judge.

Of Mr. Forbes, many sketches have appeared. His portrait is in almost every window, and his exploits, and the chief incidents of his life, are quite familiar to all. But it is somewhat strange that no writer has as yet made any reference to what, to Canadians at least, cannot fail to be an interesting episode in his career. I mean his visit to this country in 1859. The aunt to whom that visit was paid, Mrs. Tytler, is, however, still a resident of Elora, and there are many in and around that village who well-remember the frank, young face, the herculean frame, and the dashes of adventure that the guest displayed. From reliable sources, the following incidents have been gleaned, and will probably be of interest in connection with one who has for the time being, at any rate, centred upon himself so large a share of public attention.

At that period when the appeals of Dr. Chalmers had borne their legitimate fruit, when the storm of Disruption, so long gathering over the Church of Scotland, was about to break in earnest, there lived in the quiet parish of Boharm, in Morayshire, a minister, distinguished not less for the honours of his college course than for the respect he had won from all with whom he came in contact after his entrance there on the duties of a clergyman. Dr. For

bes traced through his father, SheriffSubstitute of Banff, a connection with some of the oldest aristocratic families of Scotland. Being called upon to fill the position of Moderator in 1842, he passed through the stormy times, bearing the universal respect of both parties into which the church was then divided, though he strove in vain to prevent the secession. When that, however, became an established fact he still adhered to those associations which he had cherished so long. This was the father of the future correspondent. The fortune of life had scattered the family of the sheriff in various directions. One became an advocate at Edinburgh, and a sister early emigrated to Canada. Amid the wild. pioneer life of our country's early days Mrs. Tytler had little time to cherish old associations, or dream old dreams. It was the stirring times of 1837. She landed in the country to find it convulsed in rebellion. The harsh and unjust measures of the administration had borne their legitimate fruit, and Britain had learned once more the fact that her sons, educated under her institutions, are but poor subjects for tyranny in any shape or form. But the cloud passed, the labours of early years were rewarded, and the family was settling comfortably down to the enjoyment of the fruits of their toil when they received intelligence of the speedy coming to them of Dr. Forbes' son Archie. The young man had been put to study law with an advocate at Edinburgh. Like many authors, whose pen afterwards made them known in the world, Archie found the occupation ill-suited to his taste, and spent in dissipation and idleness the time he should have given to Blackstone. Hence his visit to Canada, where it was hoped by his kinsmen the novelty of the scenes would engage his attention, and where, having no opportunity for a repetition of his Edinburgh experiences, it was fondly thought he might succeed. How far those hopes were realized may be inferred from the

fact that a considerable share of the first month of Archie's arrival was spent in pic-nic parties at Quebec where he claims to have become intimate with the late Hon. T. D. McGee, and where he lost, if accounts be true, what he never since lost in the presence of the enemy-his heart. On his arrival at the western home of his aunt, he is described as scarcely 21 years of age, but looking somewhat older. Acquaintances profess to be able to recognise in the portrait the same fiery-eye and the same massive forehead slightly overhung by projecting brows, which were marked features of the profile of young Forbes. These, however,

are all they see in common with him as they then knew him. He was fully six feet in stature, but owing to somewhat stooping shoulders he did not appear so tall. He was a brilliant and incessant talker, often walking up and down the room for hours, with his hands in his pockets, forming all manner of projects, which, then considered ideal, no doubt have since been more than realized. Those powers of animated description he has since displayed in his letters, he then possessed, according to his friends, in almost as great a degree; it only needed the opportunity to display them to the world to make him famous. He had travelled much on the continent, and was well acquainted with the German language and institutions, of which he was an enthusiastic admirer. His mother was then living in Germany, and it was probably his visits to her which led him to turn his attention to the internal affairs of that country, though why one who has since distinguished himself by his liberal views of politics should have become infatuated with what is in many respects a despotism, it would be hard to say. He sought to gain employment on some of the Canadian papers. A situation on the Globe, it is said, was then the object of his ambition, but his application failed. He was not, however, wholly idle. He wrote a novel which was offered to an Ameri

can Monthly, but declined, on the alleged ground that it only published works written by authors in the United States. At that time the Dunbar, a British emigrant ship, bound for Australia, was wrecked at the mouth of the Parametta river. Of her living freight of 500 souls, but one escaped a watery grave, and this one was the chief mourner at the funeral of the recovered victims. This incident wrought powerfully on the mind of Mr. Forbes. The result was some

verses, which, as they have never yet been published, and as they, in the opinion of the writer, give some evidence of those powers in which Mr. Forbes now excels, have some of them been transcribed :

Those who on reading these extracts, though not disposed to give Mr. Forbes a very exalted rank as a poet, will, in all probability, admit that, turned into his vigorous prose, thay would contain many of those characteristic flashes which have justly made him celebrated as a writer of English. The visit of Mr. Forbes to Canada terminated in 1859. Failing to secure employment here, downhearted and longing for home, he embarked at Quebec and sailed for Liverpool in the autumn of that year. Lying before me is a farewell letter, in which, in a pungent postscript, he states his resolve to henceforth give America a wide berth,—a determination which, according to rumour, will not long resist the demands of his ad mirers to see him on this side of the His subsequent career, and the history of his connection with the Daily News, is too well known to need recapitulation here.

ocean.

THE citizens of Halifax have been

accustomed for very many years to see on their streets the figure of an old man, somewhat stooped with the burthen of age, but still exhibiting a remarkable vigour for one whose life had commenced in the latter part of the eighteenth century. This venerable gentleman had been, for over seventy years, intimately associated with the legal, political, and social history of Nova Scotia; and there was not a man, woman, or child throughout the Province but had heard the name, if they had not seen the face, of Judge Marshall. So long had he lived amongst them that many people had forgotten his age. But at last, in the first days of April, the news flew about the streets that the mandate had come to the aged Judge, that he, too, must leave the scenes where he had been so long a familiar figure. Had he lived but five years longer, he would have completed a century of existence.

Nova Scotia has every reason to be proud of her sons. If her territorial extent be insignificant in comparison with that of the great provinces of Quebec and Ontario, yet she may justly claim that neither surpasses her in the intellectual vigour of the people. Like the State of Massachusetts, in the American Republic, Nova Scotia has won for herself a pre-eminent position among British American dependencies through the energy and talent of the men born on her soil. As the ships that are built on her rugged coasts carry her name to every land where

Commerce has winged its flight, so her sons have sought to elevate her reputation in the different departments of military, political, and literary activity. Among the eminent men who have added lustre to the fame of Nova Scotia, at home and abroad, Judge Marshall may fairly have a place. Others may have won for themselves more conspicuous positions in letters or politics, but no one ever more conscientiously and earnestly devoted a long and laborious life to the solution of those great social and religious problems which have engaged the attention of the thinkers of all ages. The people of this country are, for the most part, so deeply engrossed with politics that they are too often ready to forget or ignore the services of men who are outside the arena of political conflict and devote their lives to questions of social and religious reform. The plaudits of thousands follow the political leader who has come successfully out of an electoral campaign, while the earnest, self-denying philanthropist who is labouring to promote the moral well-beingor to elevate the social condition of the masses, must be content with a crumb of praise at the most. Yet it cannot be said that Judge Marshall was ever forgotten in his lifetime, though it was so remarkably prolonged. His active intellect ever kept him prominently before the public, and enabled him to win for himself a distinctive place among the men of his day.

The life of Judge Marshall was con