that no direct conciliation could be effected between the disputants.  Another course must be adopted.  An arrangement was agreed upon between the English and Americans that the matter be left to arbitration, to the decision of the king of the Netherlands.  In such knowledge the people felt and saw a common dread, a common anxiety, a gloomy foreboding.  Such knowledge brought the painful idea of separation.  Sir Howard was appointed to prepare the case for presentation.  His presence was imperative in England.  A heavy blow fell like a death knell on the future hopes of the colonists.  Their true friend, sympathizer and ruler was about to take leave.  Many mourned his departure as that of a father or brother.  Their friend in prosperity and dire adversity; he who had struggled with the calamities and worked for the advancement of his people, their interests and direct benefits, was now to embark for his native land.

Regret was depicted on every face as the colonists moved in large bodies to return grateful recognition for the zealous labors spent in their behalf.  Every society took active measures in showing their mingled regret.  Tears rained thick and fast as many old friends grasped the hand of Sir Howard, murmuring a last God bless you.  The kind-hearted soldier could not but feel deeply when he witnessed such hearty demonstrations, yet he had hopes of returning to New Brunswick.  He cheered the people with such remarks and strove to make the least of the matter.

Nor was the family of Sir Howard less to be regretted.  Their kind hospitality, generous hearts, and unassuming dispositions, had made many friends in Fredericton and throughout the Province.

Lady Douglas strove to conceal her regret with many well-timed remarks.  Mary Douglas lovingly lingered among the well-remembered walks and paths where she had spent peaceful and happy days.  The lovely spring-time which she had looked forward to, with its songs of birds, bright sunshine, lovely flowers, and green fields, had come again, but not for her enjoyment.  Other ears would listen to the warbling songster—­other forms would sit in her accustomed seats and enjoy the pleasing sunshine—­other hands would pluck the lonely flowers blooming in beauty all around—­other footsteps would roam over the soft green grass that gently raised its head as she tripped lightly along in former years. These were the friends of Mary Douglas, truly the child of nature.  Birds, flowers, fields, sunshine, rain, and storm, were the constant companions of the gifted and beautiful student.  The warble of the birds was to her of more worth than the most bewitching strains of an English opera; flowers taught lessons more inspiring and sublime than the most profound theological discussion.  Verdant fields and bright sunshine were constant reminders of Heaven’s choicest blessings and never-failing truth, while the stormy conflicts of nature’s elements taught the heart a wholesome lesson in the thought that life has its changing moods, its bitter conflicts, its merciless storms.