a few years ago. "It is a well established fact,” he said, “ that the people who build ships navigate them; and that a nation which ceases to build ships, ceases, of consequence, to be a commercial and maritime nation. Unless, therefore, this state of things is altered, the people of the United States must be subjected to humiliation and loss. If other branches of industry are to prosper, if agriculture is to be profitable, and manufactures are to be extended, the commerce of the country must be sustained and increased."

forth to an extent of which the past few years can give no adequate conception. Even now the proprietors of mines find it difficult to charter vessels to supply the orders they are receiving. The iron exists alongside of the coal in the same Province, and must soon be largely manufactured into railway iron and other hardware, constantly in demand, and there is little doubt that in the course of time iron vessels will be built within the Dominion itself. Between 1860 and 1871, under an ordinary condition of things, British America doubled her tonnage, and it is safe to predict that, in view of the more rapid development of her commercial and industrial resources, and the stimulating influence of territorial expansion and public works, the increase of her mercantile marine will be still greater within the next decade. The prospects of the maritime industry of the Dominion were never more brilliant than they are now, and must be viewed with the deepest satisfaction by all who take an interest in the welfare and prosperity of this portion of the British Empire. The same adventurous, courageous spirit that in days of old carried the maritime heroes of England to unknown seas and continents, and has founded new states throughout the habitable globe, still exists in all its pristine vigour among the Canadian people; and as this spirit now impels them to energetic action in building up their commercial and material prosperity, so in the hour of national danger will it animate them to the performance of deeds of "bold emprise."

Of the future of our maritime industry we need have no fears, while Canada enjoys peace within her borders, and a broad enlightened policy prevails in her councils. Since the Provinces are no longer isolated from each other, but firmly united for their mutual development and expansion, their progress must be more rapid in the future than in the past. The construction of canals and railways must necessarily give additional employment to her marine, and place it eventually in the very foremost position. Sooner or later the bulk of the carriage of the trade of the great West, of the United States, and Canada, must follow the natural route of the St. Lawrence in Canadian ships. The fish, coal, lumber, and grain alone of Canada, should give abundant employment to her ships, for these products of her soil and waters are in ever increasing demand, and are every day finding new avenues of trade. The coal-fields of Nova Scotia are inexhaustible, and must be developed hence

O°

CHAPTER I.

UR train sped swiftly towards Rouen, and had passed Amiens about midnight. We were soldiers of the 20th Chasseurs who, after a month's sojourn at Boulogne, where the depôt was, were returning to rejoin our corps in the Army of the Loire. We were crowded together in third-class carriages of angular compartments, and being encumbered by our numerous military equipments, each of us was obliged to take his seat at hap-hazard. There had been no lack of gaiety along the road; no end of laughter, puns and jokes at the expense of the Prussians. We sang patriotic songs, the voices from each carriage joining in chorus, and, when we reached the stations, our clarions sounded the charge right cheerfully. But when night came on all the enthusiasm of departure had calmed down, and even the most excitable among us would fain have slept. As for myself, when getting on board the train I became separated from my squad, and was only able to discover one of my friends, Paul V . . ., an enlisted volunteer. I was seated opposite to him, and, overcome with fatigue, had dropped asleep. Suddenly there came a tremendous shock, and we felt ourselves raised from our seats; the partitions were all crushed in around us, the benches shattered, the window-panes and lamps shivered into a thousand pieces, and we, mangled and crushed, seeking vainly to escape from the confused mass of muskets, knapsacks and fragments of wood which overwhelm and lacerate us, are carried off in the vortex. This, however, lasted only a minute, but it was a frightful, agonizing

minute, with its shrieks of pain, cries of rage, prayers, and blasphemies. Then a last vibration was felt and all was still.

Later I learnt the details of the accident. At the time we left Amiens, the stationmaster of Critot, a little village of the environs, had been apprised of our departure. Either from forgetfulness or some other cause he neglected to place a man at the switch, who would have given us notice; consequently, on arriving at Critot, instead of following the main road the engine ran on the side track, struck the signal tower and broke the masonry which supported it, traversed about thirty metres off the rails, and, with a last bound, buried itself several feet in the earth. The succeeding carriages endeavoured to surmount the obstacle, but the shock had been so violent that the chains of the fifth carriage broke, proving the salvation of those that followed. Unfortunately for me I was in the first part of the train. I was severely bruised and suffered the most excruciating pain. When I found breathing time, I discovered myself on the track, my body entangled in an immense heap of wreck, from which alone my head protruded; I was choking. With my left arm, which was free, I endeavoured to raise myself slightly in order to get breathing room; but my mutilated wrist would not support me; the very effort had the effect of bruising me still more, and I fell back with my face to the ground. A little above me, in the last agonies, lay a poor young Chasseur. Caught between two timbers his bruised body remained suspended, and his warm life-blood trickled in large drops on my forehead.

Meanwhile the excitement among the rest of our comrades was intense. Their first idea was an attack by the Prussians, and every one alighted. The soldiers were hastily loading their muskets, while the offiers, sword in hand, endeavoured to rally them, and shouted "Forward." But the sad reality was soon apparent to them. They met two or three of the wounded, thrown on the road by the violence of the shock, dragging themselves slowly and laboriously along the declivity. There was no light: voices called to each other in the gloom; the night was so dark that I could scarcely distinguish the forms of those who so cautiously advanced by the light of the wrecked locomotive. Recognizing friends at last, I called. They hastened eagerly forward, removed the mass which was weighing me down, and in less than a minute I was extricated. They wanted me to stand up; but alas! that was too much for my disjointed limbs, and I fell back with a groan. Raising me gently, four of them carried me into a meadow bordering on the track. There, lying on the grass, I found about thirty men dead or dying. The one I was placed beside was no other than my friend Paul V . . With the aid of a lantern I could see that his right foot was terribly shattered, and was uncovered by either shoe or gaiter. I had as yet not lost consciousness a single instant, and was perfectly aware of all that had occurred; but from time to time the great pain I suffered wrung a cry from me. Paul V. suffered without complaint. Here and there we heard our names called by those who sought us, but had not strength to reply. Immediately after the accident the clerks had come out of the station-house in order to see what had happened. By-and-bye a train arrived with workmen, torches and tools. At the same time the country people began to awake. The two church bells of the little village tolled dolefully, carrying afar the bad tidings. Believing it was a Prussian attack, the peasants armed them

The

selves with pitchforks and muskets, and prepared to make a vigorous resistance. When undeceived, they set to work at once to relieve the sufferers. Thanks to this reinforcement the labour went on rapidly. bodies were laid out in a line in the meadow. The scene was a strange and truly mournful one— —more than a hundred bodies were lying in the plain; we had all been covered with the short blue cloak of the Chasseurs. The lips of some of those near me were black, their teeth clenched, their eyes wild and staring, and their heads turned convulsively, telling of terrible sufferings. In their agony they dug their nails into the frozen ground. A shadowy group, with torches in their hands, flit from one to another; these were our officers, seeking to recognize their men; they stooped to look at the faces, the rosin trickling down their fingers. The night was starless, and the mist of early morning, falling on the plain, encircled the flame of the torches with a halo which, from a distance, gave it a bloody hue. With the officers came a medical student, a pupil of the Parisian hospitals, then residing at Critot. He also stooped and gazed; occasionally he spoke a few words, and then the body was carried away and placed near the declivity where the other dead had been piled. Behind the group came a priest. When they approached me, one of the officers, a lieutenant, recognized me and shook hands; the young student who had just left Paul V . . . looked for a few moments at my features, distorted by suffering, said "Well, well!" and then passed on. In front of me was a poor fellow whom I had heard complain a little while before, but now he no longer moved. Two several times the student held a glass to his lips. "He is dead," said he at last, and the new corpse was taken away.

Here my recollection stops; the trial had been too great, and I fainted. I only regained consciousness when I was hoisted, with other unfortunates, into one of the twowheeled carts used by our peasantry. In