confoundedly odd." "How did the natives of New Brunswick ever impose upon
the British Government to send a governor and a private secretary,"
interrupted Charles Douglas. "Ha, ha, ha," laughed the latter, with
repeated and renewed attacks. "Howe, you have been baulked in some design
to-day; perhaps the fair one smiled on another, or odder still, some
rival is ready to exchange a few kindly shots." "Oh, Douglas, for
Heaven's sake stop and save your breath for more interesting topics,"
exclaimed the latter. The secretary lit a cigar and sat down to glance
over the contents of a letter. Muttering some irreverent expressions upon
the writer. "Howe, you 'see through a glass darkly,'" yelled Captain
Douglas, "to-morrow you will see face to face Major McNair and the sports
of H.M. 52nd. It will be mightily odd if you do not give them a brush.
Count upon me, too, as I intend to show in earnest what stuff Prince is
made of." "One thing you show," said Mr. Howe, with a strange grin--"a
desire to turn parson or priest. I might make a few suppositions without
interruption. Perhaps you have been initiating yourself in the good
graces of a Rev. Clergyman, by a few such quotations. Perhaps the church
might take better in New Brunswick than the army. Douglas, with all your
perhapses, you are a cunning diplomatist." "You certainly do me credit,
Howe," said his friend; "I possess enough cunning to perceive that you
are not in your native element this September 22nd, 1824."

The private secretary of His Excellency, Sir Howard Douglas, was a man
of no ordinary stamp. He had ability and coolness; the last named
quality had gained him much favour from the veteran commander, and a
desire to retain his service. Tall, slight and athletic, Mr. Howe was
foremost in all feats of physical sports. Horse racing was his greatest
mania. Few could manage a horse as he, and fewer still could own one
faster than his favourite mare, Bess. Quickly he rose to his feet with
"Jove, Douglas, I feel angry with myself and everybody." "Then keep your