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 THE OLD JAPANESE CABINET. 
 
 139 
 
 THE OLD JAPANESE CABINET. 
 
 IN the course of the last summer, I fol- 
 lowed the example of the rest of the 
 rest of the world and made a visit to the 
 Centennial Exhibition at Philadelphia. 
 When I had enjoyed those features of that 
 splendid show which had for me the most 
 attraction, I found myself at last in front of 
 the Japanese department, to which I had 
 been unable, previously, to give a close in- 
 spection on account of the crowd which 
 was continually pressing round that peculiar- 
 ly interesting part of the Exhibition. Of 
 course, when I was able to obtain a gooL. 
 view of that department, I was as much 
 surprised as any one else at the superiority 
 of the Japanese artists in many articles of 
 vertu and ornament ; but there was one 
 specimen of Eastern ingenuity which at- 
 tracted my attention above everything else, 
 and that was a small cabinet, especially 
 conspicuous for the grotesque melange of 
 carvings which covered the entire front. 
 Serpents and lizards supported the shelves, 
 while birds of brilliant plumage surmounted 
 the top and appeared making vain exer- 
 tions to escape from the cruel creatures 
 whose basilisk eyes flashed just below, and 
 seemed to be exercising a mysterious charm 
 over the feathered beauties. The materials 
 of the cabinet were different valuable woods 
 of the Eastern seas, and were put together 
 with a skill which European artists might 
 well envy. The various birds and reptiles 
 v'hich covered the cabinet .ere so many il- 
 lustrations of that fidelity to nature and 
 artistic skill which attest the progress of 
 the Japs in certain classes of ornamental 
 art. But it was not simply its excellence 
 as a work of art that caused me to linger so 
 long in front of the cabinet. As I looked 
 at this bizarre specimen of Eastern me- 
 chanical skill, I began mentally comparing 
 it with one that I had previously seen in a 
 very different place, and which resembled 
 it in a very remarkable manner. The first 
 cabinet, now so suddenly called to my 
 memory, had made a very vivid impression 
 on ray mind at the time, not merely on ac- 
 count of its grotesque workmanship, but 
 
 chiefly in consequence of its having been 
 intimately associated with a somewha*- 
 startling episode in the life of an old 
 friend. 
 
 Having said so much I suppose that I am 
 bound to go further and relate the incidents 
 which led me to pause for some time 
 alongside what was certainly the most curi- 
 ous specimen of Eastern art to be seen at 
 Philadelphia. As I was standing there my 
 thoughts carried me to a scene very differ- 
 ent from that around me. It was not in a 
 busy hive of industry and enterprize that I 
 saw myself for a moment in imagination. 
 It was not to the sunny isles of the Japan 
 Sea, where a mysterious people isolated 
 themselves for centuries from European 
 civilization and commerce, but to a 
 younger land in a northern clime, that my 
 mind took a rapid flight. For the scene of 
 the story which I am about to tell is laid 
 within sight of the St. Lawrence, in a little 
 village which twenty-five years ago striking- 
 ly illustrated the conservative and quiet 
 habits of the French Canadians, and their 
 indisposition to be carried away by the 
 turmoil and unrest which generally charac- 
 terize life on this continent. I am not an 
 actor in this story and shall only attempt to 
 relate it as I heard it from the lips of my 
 friend, Ralph Montague, some four years 
 ago, when I made a visit to his fine old 
 country residence, in a distant part of the 
 province of Quebec. When he told me the 
 story he kindly consented to write it out at 
 his leisure ; and this promise he fulfilled 
 not long afterwards. Owing to a press of 
 varied engagements, I neglected translating 
 the notes, which are in French, and they 
 lay forgotten in a drawer of my desk until 
 the story was revived in my memory by my 
 visit to the Centennial, and then I decided 
 to give it to the public, as nearly as possible 
 in the words of the author. 
 
 Nearly a quarter of a century aqo — my 
 friend will now speak for himself— I was 
 
I40 
 
 THE CANADIAN MONTHLY. 
 
 living ill the old city of Quebec, which was 
 then comparatively little touched by that 
 spirit of modern progress, which now-a-days 
 is levelling its memorials of a famous historic 
 past, and bringing the an<:ient capital, to the 
 disgust of the antiquarian, more in harmony 
 with modern ideas of convenience and 
 taste I had been engaged in practising 
 law for several years, and was in the enjoy- 
 ment of a fair modicum of success. One 
 day in the summer of 1852 — I remember it 
 well, a broiling day, without a breath of air 
 from the sea to cool the temperature — I 
 was seated in my office, and wondering 
 whether I could not throw my papers 
 aside and enjoy a few holidays in some dis- 
 tant village on the St. Lawrence, where I 
 could breathe the cool, salty breezes of the 
 ocean. As I was running over in my mind 
 the different places to which I might go, my 
 office boy brought me a letter addressed in 
 the handwriting of an old college friend, 
 which I immediately recognized, though 
 we had not corresponded together for years, 
 and, indeed, had not seen each other since 
 we left college — he, to return to his parents' 
 roof and a fine estate, I to the hard study 
 and plodding of a lawyer's office. I had 
 heard, some months before the receipt of 
 Henry Uuchesnay's letter, that he had gone 
 to travel in Europe, by the advice of his 
 physician, who had warned his father that 
 his constitution was too delicate to allow 
 him to enter on the pursuit of any business 
 or profession which would force him to re- 
 main constantly confined in-doors. He 
 now simply asked me to come down the 
 river and pay him a visit for a few days, as 
 he wished to consult me on some business 
 matters of much importance to himself and 
 family. He added that if I could not come 
 immediately, I was to write and tell him ; 
 but as he confidently expected me he would 
 not fail to come in a carriage to the steamer- 
 landing on the following Saturday. 
 
 It was on a Wednesday that I received 
 my friend's invitation, and I decided at 
 once to accept it, especially after his hint 
 that I might be of assistance to him profes- 
 sionally. It was a lovely morning when I 
 stood on the upper deck of the little steamer 
 which then connected with the villages of the 
 lower St. Lawrence. Quebec loomed out 
 of the morning mist, which was slowly fading 
 away before the sun's warm rays, like some 
 mediaeval castled city of the Danube or the 
 
 Rhine. The shipping lay lifeless on the 
 bosoi 1 of the noble river, which bears to 
 the ocean far below the tribute of many a 
 lake and stream of the far distant West. 
 Heave ho ! heave ho ! were the only sounds 
 that came from the port where some steve- 
 dores were just commencing their work. A 
 few vessels had hoisted their sails, which 
 hung motionless from the masts. Passing 
 the Island of Orleans, covered with verdure 
 and dotted with white cottages hidden in 
 the clustering foliage, we soon found our- 
 selves making rapid headway down the 
 river, in company with several tug-boats, 
 which were puffing lustily as they bore 
 along some heavily laden ships bound 
 for countries far beyond. 
 
 In four or five hours' time we reached the 
 wharf which had been built for the accom- 
 modation of the surrounding district. It 
 was a quiet, secluded spot, the only build- 
 ings in sight were a small warehouse and a 
 tiny white cottage, where the guardian of 
 the place lived. The woods covered the 
 sides of the lofty hills, which came sloping 
 to the water's edge. A picturesquely 
 wooded island was moored midway in the 
 river, and I imagined it was still left in a 
 state of natural wildness, until one of the 
 passengers . told me that several families 
 were living in huts, and cultivating little 
 patches of ground on the opposite side. 
 Several clun / carts and a couple of 
 caleches, drawn by stout Canadian ponies, 
 were waiting on the wharf for passengers 
 or freight I did not see anything of my 
 friend when we first reached the wharf, 
 but a few minutes later he drove down the 
 hill and greeted me warmly. It did not 
 take me long to get my valise into the com- 
 fortable waggon which my friend was dri- 
 ving, and then we made our way into the 
 country as fast as the ponies could take us. 
 The surrounding country was very hilly, and 
 we were obliged to make more than one 
 considerable ascent on our way to the old 
 home of the Duchesnay's, which was sit- 
 uated in the neighbourhood ofa little village 
 on the plateau of the hills. Tlie road 
 showed many a graceful curve and many a 
 beautiful bit of scenery. Here a glen, 
 where maples and birches threw their 
 shadows over a rapid brook whose source was 
 hidden deep among the hills. Ther** j^ 
 rugged height, where wildblackberri*". . 
 ripening, peeped out among the re ,. 
 
 I 
 
 
THE OLD JAPANESE CAPINET. 
 
 141 
 
 .i«. 
 ■■■'(i 
 
 Now and then, as we ascended a prominent 
 point, we caught a glimpse of the lordly 
 river, sparkling in the sunshine and flecked 
 with white wings. We passed a few habi- 
 tants, dressed in rough homespun, and 
 straw hats, which they touched courteously 
 with a ' Bon jour, M'sieurs.' 
 
 But I am forgetting, as I recall the 
 memories of that charming drive, to intro- 
 duce you to my friend. He was a slender, 
 rather delicate looking man, with piercing 
 b'ack eyes, and dark curly hair clustered 
 carelessly over a prominent brow, which 
 showed him to possess no ordinary intellec- 
 tual power. I was glad to find that he be- 
 lieved his trip to Europe and the healthy 
 natural life that he led on the Seigniory had 
 strengthened his constitution, and that he 
 had not had, of late, any recurrence of those 
 attacks of weakness which had been a fre- 
 quent cause of alarm to his friends in his 
 early youth. I now learned, for the first 
 time, that his father had died nearly twelve 
 months before, and left the estate, which 
 had been in possession of the family for 
 many generations, very heavily involved, on 
 account of some speculations in iron mines 
 which had turned out very unsuccessful. 
 
 ' I have been hopmg,' said Henry Du- 
 chesnay, 'that we might save at least a small 
 part of the large sums which my father 
 raised on mortgages at a very heavy rate of 
 interest, but I now find that the stock is 
 literally worthless, and that the share- 
 holders will lose all they have invested. I 
 have only known the truth very recently, 
 and in the hope that you might assist me in 
 some way, I have asked you to come down. 
 I was in Quebec a couple of months ago 
 on the same business, but found you were 
 absent in Montreal.^ The friends I did con- 
 sult gave me no comfort whatever.' 
 
 I could not disguise the fact that the 
 mining stock of which he was speaking was 
 quite worthless at that time, and that it was 
 out of the question to expect to raise a 
 shilling on it. The chief creditor, I learned, 
 was an old notary, living in the village, who, 
 like his father, had amassed what was a con- 
 siderable fortune in Lower Canada. 
 
 *Jean Brouette,' continued Henry Du- 
 chesnay, ' appears to have drawn my father 
 into a perfect network of trickery during my 
 absence in Europe. My father was too 
 easily influenced in business matters, and 
 placed implicit confidcDce in the old notary, 
 
 who had managed our affairs for years. If 
 I were alone in the world I would not, per- 
 haps, mind my ill-luck so much, but the 
 old rascal has had the audacity to suggest 
 a compromise, as he calls it ; one that is 
 very repugnant to me. He proposes that 
 I should consent to the marriage of his 
 only son to my sister, Estelle, who, I am 
 sure, dislikes him, although, in her affection 
 for me, I believe she would not hesitate 
 to sacrifice herself rather than allc.v the 
 estate to pass completely out of our family. 
 If this marriage could be arranged, Brouette 
 would be satisfied with a part of the estate, 
 on which he would build a house for his 
 son and wife. Of course the proposal is 
 liberal in the extreme, and if young Brouette 
 were at all a fellow I could esteem, or my 
 sister had any liking for him, I could not 
 have any objection in the world to this plan 
 of settling our difficulties. But I have de- 
 cided, if no other means can be taken, to 
 allow the estate to be sold rather than see 
 my dear sister throw herself away on so 
 cold-blooded a creature as this Francis 
 Brouette. The worst of it is I am fit for 
 nothing in practical life. I have no profes- 
 sional education, whilst my health at the 
 best is very precarious. It will end, I sup- 
 pose, in the Duchesnays becoming only a 
 name in the country, like so many other 
 families of the old regime. 
 
 11. 
 
 CONVERSING on the difficulties of 
 his position, we at last reached the 
 summit of the hills, and drove for a while 
 through a n»ore level country, presenting 
 cultivated fields and many snug cottages of 
 wood, with here and there one built of the 
 common stone of the neighbourhood. We 
 had now reached the Seigniory of the 
 Duchesnays. 
 
 'Our family,' said Henry Duchesnay, 
 ' has held the land you see for miles around 
 since the first Duchesnay came over as a 
 captain in the Carignan regiment, in the 
 seventeenth century. It it is true, the set- 
 tlement of the Seigniorial Tenure question 
 has deprived us of much of our land, and 
 of our old priviliges, but still we have 
 enough to make my patrimony a valuable 
 one for this part of the country, and if my 
 
143 
 
 THE CANADIAN MONTHLY. 
 
 father had not been led away for years to 
 invest all his money in rash speculations, I 
 could have no reason to be dissatistied with 
 my lot as the heir to so fine a heritage. At 
 present Brouette, whose house you can now 
 see close to the church — a low, stone build- 
 ing — may be said to be the real owner.' 
 
 We passed by the village, a small collec- 
 tion of white-washed, or painted, low- 
 browed, red roofed houses, all scattered 
 around a large stone church with a lofty 
 steeple, topped by a huge gilded cross, 
 which glittered brightly in the sunshine. 
 We took a road which led us to an avenue 
 of lofty native trees, about a quarter of a 
 mile from the village, and soon found our- 
 selves on a fine lawn, in front of a large 
 stone mansion, unpretending in appearance 
 and covered with wild grape-vines, which 
 clambered over the wide verandah, running 
 along the entire front. The solidity of the 
 stonework, and the massive, clumsy chim- 
 neys, showed that the house had been 
 built in old times, though it had been very 
 materially altered of late years, by modern- 
 izing the interior and adding a wing and 
 verandah. 
 
 A young lady, whose dark and expres- 
 sive eyes at once spoke of her relationship 
 to my friend, came out on the verandah, as 
 we jumped out of the waggon, and I was in- 
 troduced to Estelle Duchesnay. Close be- 
 hind her came a charming old lady from 
 whom even old age had not robbed 
 all her grace and beauty. This was Madame 
 Duhamel, the aunt of the young Duches- 
 nays. She was the widow of a brother of 
 Henry's father, who had been an officer in 
 the British navy, and subsequently a roving 
 captain in the merchant marine. Two 
 fairer types of youth and age, of innocence 
 and experience, of maiden grace and 
 matronly dignity, need scarcely be sought 
 for ; the resemblance of their features 
 heightened the contrast of age and charac- 
 ter. Each had the same elliptic arch of 
 brow, the straight nose and delicate chin, 
 and the graceful carriage of the well shaped 
 head. Though so many years separated 
 the aunt from the niece, each had her 
 special charm to attract the eye ; the one 
 the freshness and joyousness of a hopeful 
 youth ; the other, the gentle serenity of a 
 kindly old age, neither saddened by vain 
 regrets for the past, nor distrustful of what 
 the future had in store. 
 
 Passing through a large, lofty hall, decor- 
 ated by a few fine moose and deer heads, 
 we entered a spacious room, comfortably 
 furnished with old-fashioned sofas and arm- 
 chairs. The walls were covered with sev- 
 eral old paintings, chiefly portraits of mem- 
 bers or friends of the family. What at- 
 tracted my attention particularly at the mo- 
 ment, was the number of curious ornaments 
 which were scattered on the mantelpiece 
 and on tables everywhere, and which I 
 afterwards learned had been sent home at 
 different times by Captain Duhamel, who 
 had been very fond of collecting such curi- 
 osities. 
 
 After a comfortable wash in a snug bed- 
 room, where the windows looked down im- 
 mediately on a pretty little flower garden, 
 and gave a wide prospect of woodland 
 and meadow, I returned down stairs to a 
 bountiful supper, that was awaiting my 
 appearance. Then the ladies accom- 
 panied us to the verandah, where we en- 
 joyed the cool, fresh breeze that came 
 from the hills far to the northward, and 
 seemed so fragrant and invigorating after 
 the hot dusty atmosphere I had been 
 inhaling in a musty office for weeks past. 
 Our conversation gradually turned to the 
 curious ornaments that had attracted my 
 notice, and Henry Duchesnay then gave 
 some particulars about Captain D uhamel's 
 adventurous career, whilst his aunt was ab- 
 sent for some moments giving directions 
 to the servants. 
 
 ' My uncle left his home at a very early 
 age, as a midshipman on board an Eng- 
 li-sb frigate, and by his twenty-fifth year 
 had obtained a lieutenancy. But when his 
 ship was put out of commission, and he 
 saw no prospect of employment for some 
 time, he left the navy, married my aunt, 
 and settled near Quebec ; but he soon be- 
 came tired of an inactive life, and took 
 command of a large merchantman bound 
 to the Chin-.. Sea. It was on this voyage 
 he collected many of those curiosities which 
 you see scattered about the house. He re- 
 mained in command of different merchant 
 ships for some eighteen years, in the course 
 of which he paid visits home only at dis- 
 tant intervals. My aunt accompanied him 
 on two voyages — one to Brazil, and the 
 other to the Cape of Good Hope ; but her 
 health did not permit her to leave her 
 home for a long time afterAvards ; and had 
 
THE OLD JAPANESE CABINET. 
 
 143 
 
 it not been for his remittances of money 
 i.nd presents of different kinds, my Uncle 
 Ralph would have been considered by us 
 children as a mythical personage. Two 
 years ago, or a little more, he suddenly 
 made his appearance with his ship at Que- 
 bec, and there he was taken with a stroke 
 of paralysis, almost immediately after his 
 arrival, and before my aunt had time to 
 reach him. He never spoke afterwards, 
 but lingered for a fortnight in a perfectly 
 helpless state, very pitiable to be seen, and 
 then died without being able to utter a 
 word. Unhappily for my aunt, she was 
 never able to obtain any accurate informa- 
 tion as to the disposition of his property. 
 He was supposed to have saved a consider- 
 able amount of money ; but he was always 
 reticent on such subjects, of late years, 
 though his letters to my aunt intimated that 
 she need have no fears as to their future 
 comfort, when he retired from his active 
 life on the seas. But, strange to say, we 
 could not find any papers to tell us what 
 he had done with his property. His chief 
 officers were as ignorant in the matter as 
 we werp, and all admitted that he never 
 gave his confidence to those about him, 
 with respect to his private affairs. There 
 was one person from whom we might have 
 obtained some clue, and that was, a Henry 
 Martin, who had been his chief mate for 
 years, and who, from his superior education 
 and companionable qualities, w^s always a 
 great favorite with my uncle. But Martin 
 left the ship many months before my 
 uncle's death, and settled somewhere in 
 South America, and though we have writ- 
 ten to him time and again, and addressed 
 our letters to 6very place where he was 
 likely to be found, we have never received 
 any answer. All the property that my 
 aunt could find was a share in the ship he 
 had been sailing for years, besides a couple 
 of valuable rings, set with precious stones, 
 for which he had a perfect mn.nia, and of 
 whose value he had a remarkable know- 
 ledge — equal to that of the best lapidary or 
 jeweller anywhere. The most fantastic illus- 
 tration of his fancy for curiosities is an old 
 Japanese cabinet which, I believe, accom- 
 panied him , all his voyages, and which I 
 will show you now, if you like, for it is a 
 wonderful piece of workmanship, in its way.' 
 With these words, Henry Duchesnay 
 led me through the hall and dining-room, 
 
 into a small apartment, wainscoted with 
 oak, now dark with age, and fitted up as a 
 library. It had an air of seclusion, particu- 
 larly attractive to a lover of books. Several 
 comfortable arm-chairs were scattered about, 
 a well-filled case of books stood between 
 two windows, looking upon a small flower- 
 garden and shrubbery. But the most 
 conspicuous object in the room was a 
 cabinet of decidedly bizarre appearance, 
 made of a variety of costly woods, and 
 standing some six feet high. The faces of 
 the drawers were inlaid with ivory and 
 ebony, making a sort of mosaic pattern, and 
 the handles were exquisitely formed butter- 
 flies and humming birds, the colours of 
 which were still remarkably well preserved, 
 despite the rough usage to which it had 
 been subject on many a long sea voyage. 
 Above the shelves of lacquer work and on 
 the top was a large bird of brilliant plumage 
 in the coils of a gorgeously striped serpent, 
 carved out of ebony and ivory, and then 
 painted with exquisite skill. 
 
 ' Yes,' I exclaimed, ' this is a wonderful 
 piece of workmanship. The eyes of many a 
 connoisseur in London or Paris would covet 
 so rare a piece of carving and coloring. 
 
 'The Jap artists,' replied Henry, 'are 
 evidently very clever fellows in their way. I 
 have no doubt it is a prize, and would be 
 worth a good deal if my Aunt were willing 
 to sell it. Indeed, we could find a pur- 
 chaser tomorrow if we wished. For the 
 inevitable Brouette, only last week, offered 
 to buy it at our own price, but my Aunt 
 laughs at the idea. What the old notary 
 can want with it, I cannot for the life of 
 me say, unless he has taken a fancy to the 
 idea worked out in the serpent and bird. 
 That about illustrates his mode of dealing 
 with his friends and enemies alike.' 
 
 Here Estelle Duchesnay came into the 
 room, and said, with a shudder, as she 
 looked at the cabinet, 
 
 ' Just look at the anguish depicted by the 
 artist in the eyes of the lovely bird that the 
 horrid creature is crushing in his coils. I 
 cannot bear the sight of it, and wish my 
 Aunt would send it away. What a strange 
 taste the artist must have had to mingle the 
 frightful with the beautiful in so fantastic a 
 style.' 
 
 I quite agreed with the fair speaker that 
 the cabinet would be far more harmonious 
 were the serpent left out altogether. 
 
M4 
 
 THE CANADIAN MONTHLY. 
 
 ' If it were possible to remove the ob- 
 noxious part,' said Henry Duchesnay, ' I 
 would make the attempt myself, but if you 
 look closely you will see that the serpent 
 and its victim are so closely connected with 
 the whole fabric, that to destroy one thing 
 would be to ruin the entire cabinet. And 
 then, after all, it is so admirable an illustra- 
 tion of the ingenuity of the Japanese, that 
 it would be a pity to injure it. We should 
 look at it as we would at that famous speci- 
 men of antique sculpture, the Laocoon 
 group.' 
 
 III. 
 
 W'HEN we returned to the verandah 
 Madame Duhamel rejoined us, and 
 suggested that we should take a walk 
 in the flower-garden of which I had just 
 caught a glimpse through the library-win- 
 dows ; but we had hardly stepped on the 
 lawn before we saw two persons coming up 
 the shady avenue. 
 
 ' It is too bad,' said Henry Duchesnay, 
 in a tone of annoyance; ' here come that 
 precious father and son ; we might have at 
 least this evening to ourselves.' 
 
 I was speaking to Estelle at that moment, 
 and I could see she was equally annoyed at 
 the intrusion; but she said nothing, though 
 she looked anxiously, as if she were afraid 
 her brother might allow some exhibition of 
 his feeling to escape. 
 
 As they joined us I was not prepossessed 
 in their favour. The elder Brouette was a 
 little wizened- faced man of between fifty 
 and sixty years of age, with small, keen 
 eyes and dry, parchment looking cheeks, 
 and a voice which, obsequious as he tried 
 to be, was far too sharp and incisive to be 
 pleasant. The son was certainly more 
 presentable both in looks and dress, but he 
 too had the cunning ferret-like eyes, and 
 his manner was far too fawning to be agree- 
 able. Both shook hands with me, when my 
 friends introduced them, and looked at me 
 with their dangerous little eyes as if they 
 would probe out the object of my presence 
 at the manor. 
 
 Whether froni fear of the well matched 
 couple, or a desire to keep them in as good 
 a humour as possible, the two ladies allowed 
 themselves to be monopolized bytheflither 
 and son. Henry Duchesnay could hardly 
 
 restrain his annoyance, and I doubt if he 
 would have done so, had it not been for a 
 warning glance now and then from his 
 sister. We walked through the garden, 
 where a few late roses and some old- 
 fashioned flowers perfumed the evening air. 
 Fortunately the lirouettes did not come 
 to spend the evening, but soon took their 
 departure ; but before doing so I heard the 
 old notary say to Henry Duchesnay, as he 
 took my friend aside for a moment to the 
 library window to speak about some matter 
 of business, 
 
 ' Have you then <lecided not to sell me 
 that old cabinet ; 1 have taken, as you know, 
 a great fancy to it, and you might please 
 me in so small a matter, as I will pay you 
 more than you can ever sell it for elsewhere.' 
 * Mr. Brouette,' replied Henry Duchesnay, 
 ' the cabinet, you know perfectly well, is not 
 mine to sell or give away, and I trust you 
 will not trouble me again about it.' 
 
 ' Oh I very well,' aiiswe.ed the notary; 
 ' keep it since you are so fond of it. It is 
 not,worth while quarrelling about, I am quite 
 sure. But come, Francis, we must leave 
 before it is too late. There is no moon to- 
 night, and the road is very dark.' 
 
 * I cannot endure this life much longer,' 
 said Henry Duchesnay, as soon as their un- 
 welcome visitors had taken their leave, 
 which they did with as much tmpressement 
 d." ' ' they were the dearest friends of the 
 fau.ily ; ' I would rather pick up stones than 
 be exposed to the coarse insults of the old 
 notary and his son.' 
 
 ' Be patient, my dear brother,' said 
 Estelle, as she took his hand ; ' let us hope 
 for the best ; I feel that all is not so dark 
 as it really seems. But come, the dew 
 is commencing to fall heavily, and it will 
 be pleasanter in the sitting-room, where my 
 aunt is waiting for us.' 
 
 The rest of the evening passed very de- 
 lightfully, for the two ladies vied with each 
 other in their efforts to dispel the gloom 
 which the visits of the old notary invariably 
 threw over Henry Duchesnay. Both re- 
 lated for my amusement many interesting 
 incidents in the lives of the ladies and 
 gentlemen whose portraits stared down on 
 us from the walls. One face, from its 
 striking resemblance to Estelle Duchesnay, 
 impressed me particularly, and that was a 
 painting of a young girl of some nineteen- 
 or twenty years, elaborately dressed in the 
 
 mmm 
 
THE OLD JAPANESE CABINET. 
 
 MS 
 
 costume of Marie Antoinette's times just 
 previous to the revolution. Her eyes and 
 features generally were very like those of 
 the aunt and niece — those of a true Du- 
 chesnay — but there was visible on the 
 countenance of the portrait a sadness, a 
 wierd sadness seemingly, which was in de- 
 cided contrast with the more healthy, natu- 
 ral expression of the living girl. Ebtelle 
 Duchesnay told me that the lady of the 
 portrait had been married at an early age, 
 soon after coming out of a French Convent 
 in which she was educated, to an officer in 
 the King's guards, who was one of the first 
 to die in vain efforts to save his sovereign 
 and his Queen in those terrible times. After 
 many trials ind vicissitudes she succeeded in 
 reaching her friends in this country, with an 
 only child ; but the burden|of her sorrow 
 became at last so heavy that her reason 
 gave way and she never recovered it. 
 
 ' For many years,' continued Miss Du- 
 chesnay, • the unhappy lady lingered in the 
 old chateau ; her only pleasure was in 
 gathering flowers, for which she would haunt 
 the deepest, most solitary woods, from the 
 time the white lilies and violets first ap- 
 peared, and out of which she would make 
 immortelles to hang on the imaginary grave 
 of her husband, who, she believed, was 
 resting beneath the shadow of our old 
 church in the village. The habitants would 
 often meet her as she wandered through the 
 woods and meadows, and would bow to her 
 reverently and cross themselves fervently, 
 as if they were in the presence of one from 
 the other world ; and so she must have 
 seemed to many, with her saint-like, mourn 
 ful expression, and her white draped figure. 
 One day she never returned home, and after 
 a search of many hours her friends found 
 her lying peacefully by the side of a brook, 
 with a bunch of white violets in her hand. 
 Here, tired with her walk, she must have 
 laid down to rest, and then fell gradually 
 into a sleep from which no mortal could 
 ever awake her. That spot is still respected 
 by the people far and near, who, in their 
 superstition, have often imagined that they 
 have seen her, a white-robed figure, picking 
 flowers in her favourite haunts.' 
 
 ' The habitants,' said Madame Duhamel, 
 when her niece had brought her sad history 
 to a close, ' inherit much of the superstition 
 of their Breton and Norman ancestry. Some 
 of them persist in believing that M»rie 
 
 they 
 
 out 
 
 seen. 
 
 D'Estouville can be seen, every anniversary 
 of her death, picking flowers by the brook 
 where she died. Claire, one of the young 
 servants, declares that she saw a figure, just 
 like that in the portrait, standing on the 
 lawn, beneath the old maple tree, one 
 niglit in the early part of this summer, when 
 she had got up to open the window wider, 
 on account of the sultriness of the air. In 
 a terrible fright, she called up Margaret, 
 who occupies the same room, but when 
 summoned enough courage to look 
 of the window, nothing could be 
 It is in this way, no doubt, most 
 ghost stories originate.' 
 
 Music and stories of the peasantry wiled 
 away the rest of the evening, till near mid- 
 night, when the ladies retited and left my 
 friend and myself to talk over college days 
 for some moments before we followed their 
 example. 
 
 I was up at an early hour in the morning, 
 and strolled out to the lawn, and thence 
 into the little flower-garden, where the 
 flowers that had resisted the heat of the 
 summer were still heavy with dew, Here 
 I found Estelle Duchesnay cutting a few 
 flowers for the breakfast table. 
 
 ' My brother has never been an early 
 riser,' she replied, when I made enquiries 
 after Henry Duchesnay j 'his delicate health 
 for many years required that he should take 
 a great deal of rest, and what was so long a 
 necessity has now become a regular habit. 
 As for myself, I always enjoy these 
 earlier hours of the morning ; every- 
 thing is so fresh and fragrant ; the sun has 
 not had time to burn up the new life which 
 the night's rest and dews have given to the 
 flowers and leaves.' 
 
 It was indeed an exquisite morning. The 
 heat of the sun was still modified by a slight 
 tnist, which was slowly rising and working 
 its way in almost imperceptible clouds up 
 the hills which rose to the northward, until 
 it was lost in the azure of the heavens. 
 The air was fragrant with the perfume of 
 late blooming roses and honeysuckles which 
 clambered up the side of the veranda or 
 hung carelessly over the low fences. The 
 only noises which disturbed the stillness of 
 the morning were the bells of the cattle in 
 the pastures or the notes of some canaries 
 which trilled their songs on the veranda as 
 cheerily as if they were flying in the wood- 
 lands of their natural home. 
 
14^ 
 
 THE CANADIAN MONTHL Y. 
 
 We strolled up and down the gravelled 
 walks, conversing on different topics which 
 naturally suggested themselves, until Mad- 
 ame Diihamel summoned us to the break- 
 fast table. 
 
 Then, Henry Duchesnay, as soon as we 
 had finished br.-akfast, took me off to the 
 library, that we might freely talk over busi- 
 ness matters. When I had looked carefully 
 over the papers, I h.id to confess that the 
 prospect was by no means bright. The 
 property, though covering an extensive 
 tract, only brought in enough income to 
 support the family in a respectable, and 
 certainly not extravagant style. The mort- 
 gage held by the notary very prol)abIy rep- 
 resented as much as the property would 
 realize if suddenly forced into the market. 
 Our only hope was in raising the money 
 elsewhere to pay off Brouette; but that was 
 not to be easily done in times when great 
 financial distress was prevalent in au the 
 large commercial centres. 
 
 •On one thing I am decided,' said Henry 
 Duchesnay ; ' my sister must not listen to 
 the proposals of young Brouette. She, at 
 least, must not be sacrificed.' 
 
 To this decision of my friend I gave an 
 emphatic response in my own mind. It 
 would indeed be a sacrifice, I said to my- 
 self, to see the charming Estelle Duchesnay 
 the wife of a mere miser, as I felt the younger 
 Brouette would become sooner or later, for 
 he had imprinted on his face all the signs 
 of innate greed and selfishness. Later on, 
 as I was thrown more frequently into the 
 company of Estelle Duchesnay, my repug- 
 nance to hearing her name even mentioned 
 in connection with that of the young no- 
 tary became still greater. From the moment 
 of that interview among the roses and hon- 
 eysuckles, the expressive eyes of the lovely 
 girl were seldom absent from my mind. 
 
 Having sent off several letters in con- 
 nection with my friend's affai's, I accom- 
 panied him round the village. The primi- 
 tive tastes of the habitants were illustrated 
 on every side. Everything was old-fash- 
 ioned — remember I am writing of some 
 twenty years ago, when improvements made 
 only slow way in French Canadian villages. 
 Large, clumsy sweeps hung over the wells, 
 and oxen were busy in the fields, hauling, 
 in heavy wooden carts, the grain which was 
 just ripe for the sickle. Some women, for 
 the most part stout and bronze-faced, and 
 
 dressed in homespun petticoats, white jack- 
 ets, and broad-brimmed straw hats, were 
 helping the men in the fields. Hollyhocks 
 and sunflowers flaunted their sht)wy blos- 
 soms in front of every cottage. The houses 
 we entered were extremely neat, and had 
 the inevitable doublt stove be tween two 
 rooms. Every or , old and young, had a 
 pleasant word .'-. my friend, and several 
 made more than one remark, as we stood 
 conversing on the weather and the crops,- 
 which showed how little esteem was felt for 
 the old notary and his son. At the same 
 time it was easily seen that he had a strong 
 hold over more than my friend in that part 
 of the country. Every one evidently feared, 
 and all despised, his character, but none 
 were ready tj quarrel openly with the only 
 moneyed man in tlie settlement. 
 
 We stopped at the Post Office, which 
 was kept in a shop with a sign over the 
 door — 
 
 Pierre Gaudet, 
 Marchandises S^ches & Epiceries. 
 
 This was one of the general shops, to be 
 seen throughout the country, where every- 
 thing is sold, from a needle to a ready-made 
 coat or Digby herring. Here the post- 
 master, a careworn man of some fifty years 
 of age, handed us a parcel of letters and 
 papers out of one of the little pigeon-holes 
 which took up a corner near the window. 
 I noticed that he looked at my friend as if 
 he were afraid to meet his eye, and after 
 delivering the package he made an ex- 
 cuse to hurry to the back part of the shop. 
 * That poor fellow, Gaudet,' said Henry 
 Duchesnay, as wee drove off, ' is one of 
 Brouette's victims, and I am not astonished 
 he should look so wretched. He has been 
 borrowing money for years from the notary 
 at an enormous rate of interest, and is now 
 known to be entirely at my old friend's 
 mercy. I daresay you must by this time 
 think us a particularly happy community, 
 since an old money-lender has us all by the 
 throats. But, unhappily for the habitants, 
 there are too many of Brouette's class in 
 the rural districts. No wonder the people 
 are poor. 
 
 IV. 
 
 A WEEK passed away very quickly — 
 certainly the happiest week of my 
 
THE OLD JAPANESE CABINET. 
 
 M7 
 
 life. I erjoyed the society of Estelle 
 Duchesnay for many hours in strolling 
 through the pleasant walks in the forest, 
 and on one occasion we all made an excur- 
 sion to a lake situate a few miles distant in 
 the bosom of encircling hills. Here nature 
 luxuriated in all its primitive wildness. The 
 white clematis hung in masses over the 
 trees, which bent their boughs into the very 
 water, and great pines, which had resisted 
 the tempests of a century or more, towered 
 like grim sentine' ^ on the mountain slopes. 
 From more thi.a » lofty hill we saw a 
 noble panorama of mountains behind and 
 of level meadows below, while far away 
 stretched the dark blue waters of the great 
 river. Is it strange that amid such scenes, 
 my feeling of admiration for the sister of 
 my college friend should have gradually 
 ripened into a deeper sentiment. 
 
 My friends had not seen or heard any- 
 thing of the Brouettes for some days — 
 in fact, my presence at the manor-house 
 seemed to keep them at a distance — but I 
 felt that the time was fast coming when 
 my friend must decide on his course for 
 the future. 
 
 One afternoon, I happened to be walking 
 in the outskirts of the grounds. For a 
 wonder I was alone — Henry Duchesnay 
 was tired and had laid down to sleep, while 
 the ladies were busily engaged in some do- 
 mestic occupation. I wandered carelessly 
 through the shaded avenues, and at last 
 found myself close to the main road. Here 
 was a thick grove of spruce, which looked 
 so cool and inviting on that hot August 
 afternoon, that I threw myself down under 
 their fragrant boughs, and iook out a little 
 volume, a copy of Montaigne's Essays, 
 which I had found on the shelves in the 
 library. I did not read much, but lay re- 
 flecting on the present and future, when I 
 was aroused from my meditative frame of 
 mind by the noise of some footsteps com- 
 ing slowly over the road, which passed only 
 a few feet from my resting-place. I could 
 not see the faces through the thic' growth 
 of fir, but as the footsteps drew nearer, I 
 recognised the voices as those of the old 
 notary and his son. I did not wish to play 
 the part of an eavesdropper; but neither 
 was I inclined to meet them, and I conse- 
 quently remained quiet in the hope that 
 they would soon pass on ; but, as it hap- 
 pened, they [stopped near the gate, as if 
 
 they were hesitating about paying a visit to 
 the house. They were now just far enough 
 off to enable me to catch snatches ot their 
 conversation. 
 
 ' Remember now, Francis,' said the old 
 notary, ' I must have no more of this faint- 
 heartedness. I have set my heart on your 
 having the lady as well as the estate — it has 
 been the object of my life for years to see 
 you married into the oldest family in the 
 country. The doctor has told me Henry 
 Duchesnay is dying of consumption ; that 
 his life cannot be spared many years, though 
 he himself believes he is stronger. Then 
 you must be the owner of everythmg, if 
 you marry Estelle.' 
 
 * Father,' replied the young man, ' I am 
 willing enough to marry Estelle Duchesnay' 
 — how I should like to have shaken the 
 rascal for so freely using her name — ' but 
 she will not listen to me when I try to 
 speak to her ; she too clearly dislikes me, 
 and I cannot go to be insulted by that up- 
 start brother of hers.' 
 
 ' I will see Henry Duchesnay at once,' 
 said the father, emphatically, ' and let him 
 know my terms for the last time. I don't 
 like to see that Quebec lawyer hanging 
 about ; he may thwart our plans. But re- 
 member there is that other affair to be 
 attended to at once.' 
 
 Here I lost the t'aread of their conversa- 
 tion, as they dropped their voices on hear- 
 ing a cart coming up the road. After the 
 cart had disappeared, and all was quiet 
 again, I only caught one sentence, and that 
 was not very intelligible to me. 
 
 ' I am sure ' — it was the father who was 
 speaking — ' that I have got the clue I've 
 been looking for. It was only a week ago 
 that Gaudet gave me a letter which, I think, 
 solves the mystery which has so long been 
 perplexing the Duchesnays, and as I see jo 
 other means just now of finding out the 
 secret, I've resolved on the plan I've told 
 you. It must be done at once ; there is no 
 risk whatever ; better try that plan than let 
 some lucky chance discover the whole affair 
 to the family ; and then what becomes of 
 my long cherished schemes for your ad- 
 vancement.' 
 
 Here I lost the rest of the conversation, 
 for the speakers entered the gate and pro- 
 ceeded towards the house, while I took a 
 walk in another direction to reflect on what 
 I had heard. It was quite evident to me 
 
148 
 
 THE CANADIAN MONTHLY. 
 
 that the old notary was hatching some new 
 scheme which foreboded no good to my 
 friends, but what I had overheard did not 
 give me much inkhng into the subject. I 
 decided to say nothing to young Duches- 
 nay, for tlie present — it would only worry 
 one of so excitable a disposition, and per- 
 haps lead him to commit some hasty act 
 which would complicate matters still more. 
 On rea( 1 ig the house I learned that the 
 Brouettc id onlj' remained half an hour, 
 and then left, with the threat that they were 
 not prepared to wait much longer. The 
 old notary, I also found, had made a for- 
 mal proposal for the hand of my friend's 
 sister. 
 
 ' I gave him an answer,' said Henry Du- 
 chesnay, who was much excited, ' which 
 will prevent the old intriguer ever daring to 
 approach me ■ again on that subject. I 
 suppose,' he added, with a sigh, ' that we 
 must soo'i make up our minds to leave the 
 old homestead.' 
 
 I was not able to afford any direct en- 
 couragement to my friend, but I decided, 
 as I had not yet received any answers to 
 my letters, to leave on the following day for 
 the capital, and see for myself what might 
 be done. We passed a very quiet evening, 
 talking over probabilities for the future. I 
 had, 1 confess, felt much relieved that Es- 
 telle Duchesnay was not to be allowed to 
 sacrifice herself by a marriage with so un- 
 worthy a man as the younger Brouette. 
 Though no words of mine had ever re- 
 vealed my affection for her, yet I was sure, 
 at times, thai she was not unconscious of 
 iry attachment, and that her own feelings 
 were not unfavourable to me. I believed 
 that were I to succeed in assisting her 
 brother out of his great difficulty, 1 should 
 have an additional claim upon her regard, 
 and might hope eventually to win her love. 
 That evening particularly, I thought her 
 manner, whenever she spoke to me, was 
 even kinder to me than usual, and that I 
 feit a sympathetic pressure of her hand as 
 she bade me good night. Be that as it 
 may, it served to feed the hope that the 
 day would soon come when I could ask 
 her to become my wife. Never more did 
 I regret that I was not a capitalist. What 
 an unspeakable gratification it would have 
 been, to have relieved my friends of the 
 heavy sorrow that was now apparently in 
 store for them. 
 
 The night wa,> fine, but remarkably dark, 
 and the trees that Jtood in every direction, 
 so close to the old house, naturally added 
 to the i>revailing gloom. Even the whip- 
 poor-will that generally came every night 
 and sang his curious refrain on the trellis- 
 work below my window, seemed to have 
 deserted his favorite haunts, or else to have 
 sought his secluded nest unusually early. I 
 had put out the lamp that I might more 
 perfectly enjoy the calm that rested every- 
 where, and burying myself in an arm-chair, 
 gave myself up to reflections on what might 
 or might not be in the future. The most 
 practical and prosaic amongst us will build, 
 at one time or other in his life, his chateaux 
 en Espagne. The only difference '\% the 
 style of architecture these castles will as- 
 sume in each imagination. 
 
 And then having built my chdteau, of 
 which, it is needless to say, Estelle Duches- 
 nay was the fair ch&telaine, my thoughts 
 carried me to a less pleasant subject for 
 reflection, and that was the conversation I 
 had heard the previous afternoon in the 
 spruce copse, and which I had forgotten 
 for the moment, in the society of my 
 friends. What could be the secret which 
 the old covetous Paul Pry had managed to 
 ferret out ? I was sure, from the few words 
 I had caught, that his scheme, if success- 
 ful, meant some new misfortune to my 
 friends. While reflecting over the affair, 
 I gradually fell into a half dreamy state, in 
 which I must have remained for a long 
 time, till I suddenly started up with one of 
 those presentiments that will frequently 
 impress themselves forcibly on our minds 
 — a presentiment that a crisis was approach- 
 ing in the fortunes jof my friend. I tried 
 to throw off the idea that was burning itself 
 into my very brain, and to force my 
 thoughts to take another direction. Rest- 
 less and excited though I was, I decided at 
 last to try and compose my oppressive 
 thoughts in sleep, and as I rose from my 
 chair, and was about relighting the little 
 lamp, I was sure I saw a gleam of light 
 flicker near the garden gate, as 1 happened 
 to look out of the window for a moment 
 while holding the match in my hand. I 
 thought for the instant that the light might 
 come through the closed blinds of one of 
 the other windows, but 1 knew that every- 
 one in the house must have long since 
 retired, and if I had any doubt on the 
 
 % 
 ^ 
 
 m 
 
 thJ 
 
 anj 
 
 so{ 
 
 a 
 
 It I 
 
THE OLD JAPANESE CABINET. 
 
 149 
 
 matter, that was soon removed by the fact 
 that it was moving slowly through the gar- 
 den, and I could hear the cautious move- 
 ment of some person or animal, as a branch 
 or pebble was touched. I sat down again 
 in my chair, where I could better observe 
 the light without the danger of being seen, 
 and reflected what was best to be done. I 
 soon found that the light proceeded from 
 a small lantern ; but who was carrying it ? 
 It could not be anybody belonging to the 
 manor, and certainly burglars were never 
 heard of in that secluded part of the cc an- 
 try, where doors and windows were hardly 
 ever fastened securely. Then, like a flash 
 of lightning, there came again to my mind 
 the conversation that I had overheard that 
 afternoon. The light stopped immediately 
 below my window, and I was able at last to 
 detect the outlines of two figures, and could 
 hear a faint whispering. Then I heard the 
 lower window opened gently, and there was 
 a pause for some moments as if the per- 
 sons were listening. It was quite clear 
 that the robbers, who I was now convinced 
 were the Brouettes, were about to enter the 
 library, which was separate from the main 
 body of the house where the inmates slept. 
 In that room was evidently hidden the 
 secret of which Brouette had dropped a 
 hint in my hearing. I determined to act 
 ■with the greatest caution, and to catch the 
 rascals in the middle of their scheme, what- 
 ever it might be. 
 
 In the meantime, whilst these thoughts 
 were flying through my mind, I looked 
 cautiously out, and noticed tliat one of the 
 two forms had climbed through the window 
 with the light, and left the other to watch 
 outside. 1 hesitated for a moment before 
 proceeding noiselessly to Henry Duches- 
 nay's room, when my eyes were enchained 
 by a strange spectacle which affected me 
 with an unaccountable awe. Coming up 
 the path which led from the maple grove 
 directly to the library window, was a figure 
 draped in white. My eyes could perfectly 
 trace the shadowy outlines of the myste- 
 rious visitant, as I peered into the gloom. 
 Then I caught, or imagined J caught, a 
 glimpse of the face in the portrait of the 
 unfortunate Marie D'Estouville. My im- 
 agination was now naturally excited to the 
 most intense degree, and prepared to accept 
 even the most incredible incident as a 
 reality. All the surroundings of the scene 
 
 were calculated to impress even the most 
 obtuse and practical mind with a sense of 
 the marvellous. All the stories that I may 
 have heard of unaccountable incidents, 
 flashed across my memory, and seemed not 
 improbable in the gloom that rested that 
 summer night around the old mansion. 
 
 But instantaneonsly another thought took 
 the place of the superstitious fancies which, 
 for a moment, carried me away into the 
 realms of the marvellous. Fearful of the 
 consequences, if what I now imagined 
 turned out a fact, I awoke my friend hur- 
 riedly, and informing him in a feiv words 
 of my suspicions, proceeded as fast as I 
 could to the garden. I was not a moment 
 too soon. My hasty movements down the 
 stairs evidently disturbed the housebreak- 
 ers, for as I reached the garden gate, I 
 could see one of them stepping out of the 
 window. As he reached the ground, he 
 put out the light and prepared to make his 
 escape. Neither of the two had yet seen 
 the white figure which was standing in the 
 midst of the flowers, like a guardian angel 
 in a robe of celestial innocence. As they 
 turned to fly from the garden at the sound 
 of my approaching steps, they caught a full 
 view of the white draped figure, and as they 
 did so, the one darted precipitately into the 
 woods with a cry of intense terror, while 
 the other — whose faint voice I recognised 
 as the old notary's — fell panic-struck, on 
 his knees, with appeals to the ' Blessed 
 Virgin ' to protect him. 
 
 But I had no thought at that instant for 
 the abject wretch, for my whole attention 
 was directed to the mysterious visitor, now 
 trembling with fear. I was not mistaken 
 in the conjecture I had formed when I 
 caught a second glimpse of the figure from 
 the window. It was Estelle Duchesnay, 
 who had been walking in her sleep, and, 
 now suddenly aroused from her lethargy, 
 was asking in trembling accents the meaning 
 of this strange scene. 
 
 By this time Madame Duhamel and 
 Henry Duchesnay made their appearance 
 with lights, and for an instant or two all 
 was confusion, until my hurried explana- 
 tions gave some insight into the cause of 
 the excitement. Whilst Madame Duhamel 
 assisted her niece, almost fainting with ner- 
 vous excitement, to the house, Henry 
 Duchesnay and myself turned to look for 
 the old notary, who had been for the mo- 
 
ISO 
 
 THE CANADIAN MONTHLY. 
 
 ment forgotten, but we found that he had 
 disappeared during the confusion of the 
 explanations. 
 
 WE wasted no time in following the 
 old notary, for we knew he could 
 be found later on without difficulty, but 
 hurried to the library, where we saw abun- 
 dant evidence of his hasty flight. A screw 
 driver and file were lying on the table, and 
 a sheet of paper was on the floor. My first 
 glance, as I entered the room, was in the 
 direction of the cabinet, but so far as I 
 could see that had not been disturbed. 
 Henry Duchesnay picked up the paper, 
 which happened to be a letter dated from a 
 small village in the interior of Brazil. With 
 an exclamation of wonder, Henry Duches- 
 nay glanced at the name of the writer, and 
 then read it aloud : 
 
 ' Dear Sir, — I daresay you have been much 
 surprised at my not having answered the letters 
 which, I judge from tlie only one I have received, 
 you have addressed to me on several occasions. 
 You must know that for nearly two years I was 
 acting as agent to a large estate in the Argentine 
 Republic, and owing to the unsettled state of the 
 country for months, was unable to communicate 
 with my friends. It is only within the past eight 
 months that I have left that wretched country and 
 bought a plantation in Brazil. I am sorry I cannot 
 give you much information as to your uncle's pro- 
 perty. You are certainly ccncct in supposing that 
 Captain Duchesnay gave me a good deal of his con- 
 fidence, but he was the last man in the world to let 
 even his dearest friend into the secret of his wealth. 
 I am sure he had saved considerable jiroperiy, but 
 in what shap>e I cannot say. lie had a mania, as 
 you doubtless know, for collecting curiosities, and 
 among other things he once showed me some val- 
 uable diamonds which he had purchased in Uracil, 
 and on which he expected to realite a large sum. 
 On one occasion, when he was more communicative 
 than usual, he pointed out to me an ingenious con- 
 trivance which the artificer had devised as a hiding 
 place for valuables in a curious cabinet he had 
 tx>ught in Japan. My memory is not very clear, 
 but I think there was a serpent entwined about a 
 bird, and that the secret was discovered by untwist- 
 ing the coils. You must measure some eight or ten 
 inches — I forget which— from the serpent's fangs 
 and then, if you press firmly on an ebony stripe, you 
 will find a spring give way, and allow the key-piece, 
 as it were, to slip out. You must next unscrew 
 each joint separately, and then you will free the 
 bird, under whose wings are two cleverly contrived 
 places for concealing valuables. I suppose you 
 have seen this cabinet or at least know where it is 
 to be found. It would be curious if you should find 
 
 in the secret receptacle some clue which will help 
 you in discovering the whereabouts of your uncle's 
 property. Hoping that you may yet be successful 
 in your search, and again regretting that I can be 
 of so little assistance to you, I remain. 
 Very sincerely and objdiently yours, 
 
 Henry Martin. 
 
 Then we turned simultaneously to the 
 cabinet, which looked even more fantastic 
 than ever in the dull light of a flickering 
 lamp. Henry Duchesnay paused, as if 
 undecided what to do next, and then said 
 to me, 
 
 'Would you believe it, Ralph; this 
 excitement has made me so nervous that 
 my hand is actually shaking. All this 
 seems like a dream. You must discover 
 the secret, if there is any, in the old cab- 
 inet.' 
 
 I read once more that part of the 
 letter which referred to the cabinet, lest I 
 might not have perfectly understood it, and 
 then measured ten inches, and when that 
 length did not appear to answer, eight 
 inches. Nothing yielded to my first 
 pressure, but as there were several ebony 
 stripes I tried each one separately until at 
 last I felt one give way, and in the next 
 instant a little coil lay in my hand. It 
 was then an easy task to untwist the rest, 
 and when that was done the exquisitely 
 carved bird was liberated. I touched the 
 wings, but nothing moved, and for the 
 moment I thought 1 was to fail. At last, 
 by pressing gently on each part, I acci- 
 dentally touched a hidden spring, and 
 then the bird seemed ready to fly off on 
 extended pinions. In the body of the 
 bird, which was lined with some curious 
 perfumed leather, we found a miniature 
 ebony casket, and a small package encased 
 in oiled silk. We opened the casket first, 
 which was fastened by a spring, and then 
 our eyes were dazzled by a wondrous 
 sight. Here, on a soft couch of wool, lay 
 some exquisite gems, diamonds and opals, 
 which sent forth countless nnts and gleams 
 to light up the dull room with all the 
 colours of a glorious rainbow. 
 
 So dazed were we for some moments by 
 the sparkle of these wonderful illustrations 
 of Nature's most cunning workmanship, 
 that we could do nothing but look and ad- 
 mire. When we recollected the smaller 
 package, we ripped off the silk and found 
 that it contained the captain's will, devi- 
 
 
 
THE OLD JAPANESE CABINET. 
 
 151 
 
 ■ sing all his property to his wife, and, on her 
 death, to his nephew and niece in equal 
 proportio.is, as well as a statement of the 
 value of the jewels, which represented 
 nearly all his wealth. As the jewels had 
 been bought under peculiarly favorable 
 , circumstances, it was probable that they 
 would realize far more than the sum at 
 which they had been purchased, some 
 thirty thousand dollars; and this turned 
 out the case afterwards. 
 
 Madame Duhamel, who was all this 
 while in attendance on her niece, who was 
 utterly prostrated from the shock of the 
 excitement, was overjoyed when she was 
 informed of the wonderful discovery, and 
 clapped her hands in the happiness of the 
 thought that she would now be able to 
 ensure the future of her nephew and save 
 the estate. 
 
 But we soon woke to the necessity of 
 attending to more prosaic matters. We 
 could not forget the Brouettes, whose 
 scheme had turned out so signally to their 
 own discomfiture. It was now evident 
 enough that the old notary, believing from 
 the tenor of Martin's letter that the old 
 cabinet concealed a valuable secret, had 
 used his best efforts to purchase it, and 
 when those failed, had determined to make 
 a desperate venture to solve the mystery 
 for himself. To marry his son to Estelle 
 Duchesnay, and to see him eventually the 
 proprietor of the estate, of which his father 
 and grandfather had been the censitaires, — 
 the mere dependants — had been notor- 
 iously the dream of his life, and rather 
 than see his darling scheme thwarted by 
 any discovery which might place the 
 Duchesnays beyond his reach, he had re- 
 sorted to the daring stratagem in which 
 he had been caught himself. 
 
 But the first query I put, as we talked 
 over the best plan to pursue, was as to the 
 way the letter had fallen into the elder 
 Brouette's possession. 
 
 ' You remember my telling you,' replied 
 Henry Duchasnay, ' that we never received 
 a reply to the letcers we addressed to Mar- 
 tin. A few weeks after my father's death 
 I determined to make another effort to 
 reach Martin, and wrote the letter to which 
 this is evidently the reply. I now recollect 
 that the old notary came in when I had 
 finished, and as he had then my entire con- 
 fidence, I read it aloud and gave it to him 
 
 to mail The old scoundrel has man- 
 aged to intercept the reply, which indeed I 
 have never expected ; in fact I had for- 
 gotten all about it. 
 
 I took upon myself the management of 
 the whole affair with Brouette. But before 
 we visited his office, we proceeded to the 
 post-office. I had a private interview with 
 the postmaster, who confessed — as I ex- 
 pected he would — after we had threatened 
 to expose him and had shown him that 
 Brouette was at our mercy, that he had for 
 a long time back been in the habit of al- 
 lowing tie notary to look over all letters 
 addressed to the Duchesnays, and had 
 retained any which bore a foreign postmark. 
 The unhappy man, it appeared, was entirely 
 in Brouette's power, and too weak to resist 
 his importunities. He now remembered 
 that he had received a letter some ten days 
 before, with a Brazilian postmark, and this 
 Brouette had put into his pocket with the 
 remark that he would deliver it himself, as 
 he was interested in its contents. 
 
 Our interview with the old notary, whom 
 we found alone, his son having left the 
 village at an early hour in a schooner bound 
 for the Gulf, did not last long. He as- 
 sumed a very indignant and even defiant 
 air when we first made our purpose known, 
 but he soon found he was at our mercy, 
 when we told him that he had been recog- 
 nized the night before, and that we had 
 learned from Gaudet the means he had used 
 to obtain possession of the letter which he 
 had accidentally dropped in his haste to fly, 
 and which, he confessed, he had foolishly 
 taken with him to consult in his quest after 
 the secret of the old Cabinet. My friends 
 were so reluctant to have their family affairs 
 exposed to public notoriety that I was com- 
 pelled to forego the pleasure of taking 
 measures to have him prosecuted criminally; 
 but we gave him two alternatives to choose 
 from : either to be brought to trial for his 
 attempt to rob, and for his letter-stealing ; 
 or to leave that part of the country as soon 
 as he could settle his affairs. I daresay we 
 could have made our own terms with him, 
 when his courage had thoroughly broken 
 down, but Henry Duchesnay would not 
 free himself from his just obligations in the 
 smallest degree, and came to an arrange- 
 ment by which the notary was to be paid 
 the sum due him, within a time which 
 would enable us to realize the value of the 
 
15a 
 
 THE CANADIAN MONTHLY. 
 
 jewels. A careful investigation of the ac- 
 counts, which ran over many )'ears, revealed 
 the fact that Brouette had taken advantage 
 of my friend's father in numerous ways, and 
 when we came to a final settlement, the 
 amount justly due was considerably below 
 that which he had claimed at the first. 
 Both father and son disa[)peared immedi- 
 ately afterwards to find a new home some- 
 where in the West, but we never heard of 
 them again As lo the unfortunate post- 
 master, he emigrat.d to New Hampshire, 
 where, I understand, he is now doing well. 
 This story, which I have told you in my 
 imperfect way, said my friend in conclusion, 
 has been written in that same library, and 
 close by that old Cabinet which has played 
 so important a part in the fortunes of a 
 Canadian family. But as I recall the past, 
 I miss two of those familiar and kind faces, 
 present in this room some twenty years ago. 
 Madame Duhamel lived for ten years after 
 
 the discovery of her fortune, while Henry 
 Duchesnay, who never married, left us 
 about six years ago on a trip to Egypt, but 
 he never returned, and his body now rests 
 in the little European cemetary near Cairo. 
 In reply to the other query, which I know 
 will be asked by those who may hear or 
 read this story, I have to say very simply 
 that, if you could look out into the little 
 garden, now in the freshness of its summer 
 beauty, you would see at this very moment 
 two ladies who resemble each other remark- 
 ably. The elder is still a youthful matron ; 
 the younger is a slim, graceful girl of seven- 
 teen years. They are trimming the roses 
 and guily laughing at the antics of a little 
 spaniel who finds the birds far too wary as 
 he eagerly springs after them among the 
 shrubs and flowers. Estelle is the name of 
 both these ladies. One is my wife ; the 
 other, my eldest daughter. 
 
 J. G. BOURINOT. 
 
 NOX ERAT. 
 
 HE stood alone and saw the great world rushing 
 On with its throbbing mass of human life ; 
 He stood and saw the moil and toil of millions, 
 While in his own heart clashed their din and strife. 
 
 ' O, world so strange in which our lives are shapen ; 
 
 O, land so vague to which our pathways tend ; 
 O, Thou in whose vast palm our destinies are hidden, 
 When wilt Thou bring our sorrows to ai end ? 
 
 * Must man walk on alone throughout the ages, 
 
 Evil in silence gnawing at his heart ? 
 Shalt never lyre sweet for him be tundd ? 
 Or flower for his poor pleasure bluom apart ? 
 
 ' Here must he always suffer pain and anguish, 
 And see, yet never gain the wished-for goal ; 
 And sing, but never waken with his rapture 
 The only heart for which he breathes his souP 
 
 ' Oh, lonely, dark, and drear this life of toiling, 
 
 Black as the night that broods o'er Lethe's wave ! 
 Shall never rest be found from endless labour, 
 Until man lays him in the silent grave ? 
 
 ' Oh, tell me, trembling heart, that beats so faintly, 
 Shall I not find this side the grave, the goal, — 
 That rest the heaven-born being craveth. 
 The just reward and recompense of toil ? ' 
 
 aim 
 
hile Henry 
 id, left us 
 Egypt, but 
 
 now rests 
 near Cairo. 
 :h I know 
 ly hear or 
 ;ry simply 
 • the little 
 its summer 
 y moment 
 lerremark- 
 il matron ; 
 1 of seven- 
 
 the roses 
 of a little 
 wary as 
 mong the 
 e name of 
 wife; the 
 
 OURINOT. 
 c