evidently not been settled, and it is not easy to foresee how they will settle themselves. that the plan of the framers has, in this respect, miscarried, we have authoritative assurance. The terms of admission into the Confederation, which ought to have been regulated, as in the United States, on general principles of justice, independent of all party, have been left to be regulated in each particular instance by a party government, whose paramount object it is, and must always be, to attract the votes of the new province to its own side. An An equally calamitous error was committed in consigning, absolutely, to a party government and its partisan majority the expenditure on public works. Perhaps a similar remark may be made with regard to the taking of the census, on which the balance of political power is made to depend, and which ought, therefore, to have been placed, by the Constitution, in strictly impartial hands. No tribunal of any kind is provided for the repression of political corruption and malversation, in spite of the signal warning afforded by the example of the United States. No power is reserved to the nation of amending the Constitution so that if, for instance, the nominee Senate should persist in putting a veto on a reform affecting its own constitution, there would be no escape from the dilemma.* But the most palpable and the most fatal error of all was that which is here specially under consideration—the permanent infliction on Canada of the English system of party government, which, in a country where there are no dividing lines of principle, inevitably becomes a government of organized factions, constantly bidding against each other for power and patronage by demagogism, intrigue and corruption. The error was a pardonable one in legislators who knew no other system,

It will be observed that none of these errors, if errors they be, are covered by the excuse which covers some other defects in the Constitution-the recalcitrant nationality of Quebec.

though they might have taken warning from the dead-lock of faction, which was the immediate cause of the Confederation movement. But it was most calamitous, and it is visibly bringing political ruin on the country. It cannot be said that this was the natural course, or the one which statesmen, not biassed by sinister training and misleading analogies, would have adopted in framing an elective government. The natural course was, fairly to carry into effect the elective principle, and, as the Parliament was to be elected by the nation, to vest the election of the Executive Council in the Parliament, with a reservation of the formal authority of the Crown, and with such securities for the preservation of harmony between the Executive and Legislature, and against one-sidedness in the former, as a proper rotation of elections and the minority clause would af ford. Such a government would neither be immaculate nor infallible; its members would often be elected on grounds far from the most satisfactory, and would themselves be far below the highest standard in point of ability and virtue. But as a body, it would at least be free from the present temptations to the practice of corruption. Holding power by a certain, though limited, tenure, it would have no inducement to buy support for the purpose of maintaining its own existence; under the operation of the minority clause it would embrace elements sufficiently independent of each other, and mutually watchful enough, to prevent it from acting, like a bad party cabinet, as a united gang in the prosecution of sinister designs. Its energy would not be diverted, by the constant struggle for selfpreservation, from the business of the country; it would have no need to quail before rings and sections; its traditions would be unbroken, and its policy would probably be stable. Finally, it might preserve a certain amount of dignity, as it would not be called upon to take the stump, to clasp hands with rowdyism, emulate it in ribaldry, or brawl with it on the hustings.

It is suggested that the abolition of party and its conflict would consign the political world to a miserable stagnation. Alas! close at hand is the Labour Question, and looming behind it, some of them not in a very remote distance, are other questions, the greatest that have ever stirred the mind of humanity, which itself was never before so sensitive or so liable to disturbance. There is little reason to fear that stagnation will be the lot of this or of the next generation, even though our political institutions should become instruments for the promotion of union and good will instead of firebrands of discord, and though, while we are solving the tremendous problems which beset life in all its aspects, we should be impartially and quietly governed.

To escape from a parliamentary deadlock, brought on by party, the leaders of party resorted to Confederation. Another deadlock has now been brought about by the same agency. The accounts given by the organs of the results of the late elections are extravagantly contradictory, and illustrate the influence of faction on the veracity of the press. But the fact is that, among

the members whose opinions are declared, the two parties are very evenly balanced. A solution cannot be found in another Confederation: Faction has no more worlds to conquer, except, perhaps, Prince Edward's Island. A majority, to carry on a Government, can be found only in the Provinces "where the party lines are not yet drawn.” The majority so obtained will have to be kept up by the same means, and the country will be launched in a course of interminable corruption. The only alternative is to obtain from the Imperial Government leave to make use of the experience gained in this first session of our Dominion Parliament, by revising the Constitution, and so to alter the mode of selecting the Ministers of State, and forming the Cabinet, that the men whose rivalries are now distracting the country, and corrupting it to the very core, and neither section of whom can reasonably be expected to resign its pretensions, may be united in a Government entitled to the general support of the community, as an organ, not of faction or personal ambition, but of the public good.

solving which Paris owes most of her greatness. -There are two classes of men who distinguish themselves in this science of selling: the traveling agent and the shopman. The former is one of the most curious specimens of humanity of modern times. He has seen everything, he knows everybody. Saturated with the Paris vices, he can at any given moment affect the

a Parisian nor a Provincial-he is merely a traveller. He likes a joke and a song, sides apparently with all parties, but is quite patriotic on the whole. He is obliged to be an observer, or else give up his trade, for has he not to sound men by a single glance, to guess at their actions, their manners, above all their solvency; and not to lose his time, to make a rapid estimate

of all chances of success? Thus has he acquired the habit of judging promptly, and acting with decision. He talks magisterially of the theatres in Paris, of their actors and those of the province, knows the good and bad parts of France, and could pilot you, if necessary, from vice to virtue with the same assurance. His collection of set phrases is ever at hand, and the words flow uninterruptedly, producing on his victims a sort of moral shower-bath that does not allow them to consider any question very closely. He smokes and drinks, and tells a good story. He wears charms on his watch chain, and makes generally a sort of lordly impression on country people, who are apt to mistake him for his betters. He never allows himself to be bored, but knows exactly when and how to bore others. As to his activity, there is nothing like it. Nor the kite darting upon its prey; nor the stag inventing new outlets to escape the hounds and hunters; nor the dogs scenting the game, can be compared to the rapidity of his flight when he suspects a commission, or to the skill with which he trips up a rival, or to the cleverness with which he pounces upon an investment. How many superior qualities are not requisite to make such a man!

Now the clerk in the store has to be equally clever to succeed in his department, and must apply his wit and philosophy to the same purpose. Out of his store, and away from his specialty, he is as a balloon without gas; he owes his faculties only to the centre of merchandize where he is placed, just like the actor, who is only brilliant on the stage. Compared with the other clerks or salesmen of Europe, the Parisian clerk is better informed; he can talk about asphaltum, the Bal Mabille, the polka, literature, illustrations, railroads, politics, but he is exceedingly stupid the moment he leaves the counter, or forgets the graces of his salesmanship. On his tight rope in the store, the ready word on the lip, the eye alive to the object, the shawl in his hand, he would eclipse Talleyrand himself. In his own house, however, Talleyrand will get the better of the clerk. The following anecdote will go to prove this fact.

Two pretty Duchesses were one day chattering around the illustrious Prince: one of them wanted a bracelet. A bracelet had been ordered from one of the most celebrated jewellers of Paris, and they were awaiting the clerk that was to bring the desired article. One of these special geniuses comes at last with three bracelets, three marvels, between which the two ladies are at a loss. To hesitate in a matter of choice is to declare oneself vanquished. After ten minutes' hesitation, the Prince is consulted; he sees the two ladies caught in the snares of two of the enchanting ornaments, for, from the first, one of them had been laid aside, and the doubt lay between the two others. The Prince hardly looked up from his book, did not even examine the bracelets, he fixed a searching

glance upon the clerk: "Which would you choose for your lady love?" he said to him. The young man pointed to one of the two articles in question. "Then," continued the astute diplomatist, "take the other for your Lisette, and two charming ladies will be made happy.' The Duchesses smiled, and the clerk withdrew, as flattered with the present as with the good opinion the Prince had of his taste.

Had the same question been put to the innocent salesman whilst behind his counter, he would infallibly have decided otherwise, and reserved the most saleable of the jewels for another occasion, for incredible is their tact in selling what they fear might be left on their hands.

It is quite a curious study to watch the various movements of both buyers and sellers when intent on a bargain. Follow two ladies into one of those palatial stores, and you will have a living demonstration of the degree of acuteness the human mind has reached. The same drama is played for a fifty cents' worth barège or muslin as for an Indian shawl, except that the purchase of a cashmere will, as a matter of course, cause greater emotions than that of the lighter and cheaper fabrics. To buy so important an article as a shawl, ladies go generally two together, and two are none too many to resist the ensnaring graces of the crafty salesmen. They will be met for example, either by a handsome young man of most candid looks, and a voice as soft as the material he is displaying, one whom no one would think of distrusting, or by another, resolute in manner, with black eyes and a sort of imperial air, who shows the goods with a laconic "There!" By another still, light-haired, with merriment in his eye, full of activity and persuasion; and still another bearded and cravated as becomes the imposing severity of a judge. These different kinds of clerks, who correspond to the different kinds of female character, are the arms of their master, generally a corpulent, good-natured gentleman, who has made his mark in the world, has been decorated perhaps with the Cross of the Legion of Honour, for having proved the superiority of the French loom, has a wife and children, a country house and a large banking account. This personage descends into the arena, whenever the plot, too long entangled, requires a sudden dénouement. But it is the remarkable perspicacity of these young men that deserves the attention of the physiologist. They seem to understand thoroughly the slightest vibrations of the cashmere fibre in the female heart. Let a miss, an elderly lady, a young mother, a fast woman, a duchess, a plain house-keeper, an innocent stranger, present themselves, and each is at once analysed by these men, who read her through from the moment she approaches the door; for these serviceable agents are posted at all points of observation; near the door, at the windows, behind the counter, in a corner, in the middle of the store-and nothing escapes

them. You wonder what they can be thinking about, so listless do they appear; and yet, at that very moment are the wishes, the purse, the intentions, the fancies-of a woman-better searched, than the Custom-house officers can search a suspicious carriage at the frontiers. These intelligent fellows see a thing at a glance, the slightest detail in dress, an almost invisible stain on the boot, a faded hat, an illsorted ribbon, the old or new style of the dress, the freshness of the gloves, the jewellery in vogue, all, in short, that can betray in a woman her quality, her fortune, her character. Then, with telegraphic rapidity is the opinion transmitted from one to the other, by a look, a sign, a smile, a motion of the lips, and every one is under arms to secure a bargain. If it be an English lady, the sombre, mysterious, Byronic personage is in attendance; if a plain sort of a woman, the oldest of the clerks. less than a quarter of an hour, he shows her a hundred shawls-intoxicates her with colours and designs; unfolds as many shawls as the kite describes circles around the hare he is going to seize, and the good woman, all in a maze, not knowing what to choose, and flattered in all her notions, gives herself up to the clerk, who gains his point with the customary phrase, the question lying between two shawls : "This one, madam, has everything to recommend it; it is apple green, the fashionable colour, but the fashion changes, whilst this one (a black or white one, the sale of which is urgent,) will last for ever, and will suit all dresses."

In

"You have no idea," said lately one of these masters in the art of selling, to a friend of ours, "what eloquent ingenuity is required in this shawl business. You are a discreet fellow, and I will let you into a little secret which, as a study of the morality of our times, cannot fail to interest you, and will give you an idea of the inventive genius of our master. He invented what we call the Selim-shawl-a shawl the sale of which is considered an impossibility, and which we always sell. We keep in a cedar box of very plain exterior, but richly lined with satin, a shawl worth from five to six hundred francs, and which we pass off as having been sent by Selim to the Emperor Napoleon. This shawl is our Imperial Guard, we bring it forward at all critical moments: it is sold, and never dies. last one was palmed off on an English ladythe greatest triumph we have yet achieved, for the English women are our battle of Waterloo— escape us always. We meet with women that slip out of our hands like eels, but we catch them again on the staircase; others that fancy they can get the better of us with a joke; we laugh with them and hold them fast; questionable foreigners, to whom we bring our second rate shawls, and whom we inveigle with flatteries; but the English women are unconquerable, you might as well attack the bronze statue of Louis XIV: they seem to take a particular pleasure in fooling us. This makes our last victory so

Our

Several shawls were hung in the best light to exhibit their designs and colours.

"These are our best shawls," continued my colleague, calling her attention to them; "our best qualities in blue, red and orange; all ten thousand francs. Here are others at five thousand, and some at three thousand."

She looked all round with the most complete indifference before deigning to notice the articles in question, and when at last she gave some attention to the shawls, she asked, without giving any sign of approbation or disapprobation: "Have you any others?"

"Yes, madame; but perhaps madame has not quite made up her mind to buy a shawl?" "Oh yes, I have."

Inferior shawls were brought forth, but spread out with the importance necessary to fix the attention, and with the customary phrase: "These are much dearer; they are entirely new, and have not been worn yet; they have come by mail recently, and have been bought from the manufacturers of Lahore themselves."

"Oh, I understand," she replied; I like them pretty well." Still no marked sign of preference. We are all very patient, and know how to wait. My colleague waited, but we could see his irritation in the few glances he cast towards us.

"What's the price of this one?" she said at last, after an unusually long pause, and pointing to a shawl, sky blue, and covered with birds nestling in pagodas.

Seven thousand francs."

She took the shawl, wrapped herself in it, looked in the glass, and returned it to its place. "No, I don't like it."

Another long quarter of an hour passed in fruitless attempts.

"We have nothing else, madame," said my colleague, looking at our master.

"Madame is hard to please, like all persons of taste," said the latter, and advanced to the attack in his turn.

But our English customer took up her eyeglass, and looked at the head of the establishment with a curious "who are you" air, which he would never have tolerated from any-one except a foreigner. She evidently did not know that he was qualified to be elected deputy at any time, and that he dined sometimes at the Tuileries.