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1 2 3

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- &

THE

um\m Of m

PHILIPPE AUBERT DE GASPfi

«ver.)»,eiucnt qoe tout . ,™ .„*"" *'™ P»«»r eui on
•oin du grand oc«an, un bol. h«;"".' Comiii« an

TRANSLATED BY GEORGIANA M. FENNllE

QUBBBO

G. &G. E. DESBARATS

1S«J

167021

^t [rf\'iPe, R .

Registered according to the Act of the Provincial Legislature, in the year
one thousand eight hundred and sixty-four, by G. & G. E. Desbarats,
ia. the Office of the Registrar of the Province of Canada.

Quebec : G.dcQ. E, Desbarats, Printers and Publishers.

THE

CANADIANS OF OLD

CHAPTER I.

-c^O^

Ehue ! fugactt, Post/iunie. .....

Horace.

LEAVING COLLEGE.

This chapter must s»ervc as a preface, for I have no
intention of composing a work secundum arteniy
and still less of assuming the po&ition of a classic
author. Those who know mc will doubtless feel
somewhat surprised at seeing me take up the trade
of authorship at seventy-six years of age, and I owe
them some explanation for so doing. At my age,
although somewhat tired of constantly reading with-
out deriving any great advantage either to myself or
others, I should hardly have dared pass the Rubicon,
had not a trivial incident made me decide on doing
so.

A very witty friend of mine, whom I met last year
in St. Louis street, here in this good city of Quebec,
eagerly seizing my hand exclaimed, ■ I am fortunate
in meeting with you, for I have already conversed
with eleven persons this morning, and I declare to
1*

V'A

lilE CANADIANS OF OLD.

you that they wore all regular non-entities without an
idea in their iieacls !" And then he shook my arm
nearly off.

" Do you know," I said to him, " that you make
me feel quite proud, for I perceive by your warmth of
manner that I am an exception, the one you wore
perhaps expecting to "

" Ah yes, my dear friend," he broke in, without
allowing me to finish my sentence, " that is the only
witty thing that I have hoard this morning." And he
crossed the street to speak to a client on his way to
Court, who was doubtless a twelfth non-entity !

" Well," thought I to myself, " it seems to me that
it cannot be a very difficult matter to bo witty if there
is really so much wit in what I have just said. I
must certainly be well stored with that commodity,
and yet I had never even suspected it."

Quite proud of my discovery, and repeating to my-
self that 1 was a far wittier man than any of my
friend's eleven non-entities, I hurried to the stationer's
shop, and buying a ream of foolscap paper, set to
work.

I am writing for my own amusement, at the risk
of wearying the reader who may have the patience to
read this volume ; but as I am of a compassionate
nature, I have one cxcelient piece of advice to give to
the said reader, which is to throw aside this unlucky
book without taking the trouble to criticise it. It
would be giving it too much importance, and besides
it would be a useless task for a bond fide critic, inas-
much as, unlike the old archbishop of Grenada that
Gil Bias speaks of as so touchy about his homilies, I
am a very easy-going person, and instead of saying
to the said critic, " I wish you all sorts of good for-
tune and better taste," I should frankly admit that
there were plenty of faults in my book, and that
I was quite aware of the fact.

As to the ill-natured critic, it would be sheer loss
of time for him to attack me, as he would be unable
to provoke me to any discussion. I warn him before-

LEAVING COLLEGE. S

hand ihnt F regret being obliged lo deprive him of
this j)leasant ainnsement, and to eompel iiim to pare
hin elawH. 1 glory in my age and idienes.'<, likcthc
Figaroofironie memory, and besides, have not enough
amour-propre to be th(! least tenacious about my
literary productions. All my ambition is to note
down some episodes of the gO(Kl old times, some
remembrances of a youth, now alas ! long passed
away.

Many of the anecdotes which I relate, will probably
appear worthless and childish to many of my readers ;
let them, however, throw the blame upon some of our
most eminent literary men, who have begged me to
omit nothing that might throw light on the manners
and customs of the Canadians of old. " What may
perhaps appear trivial in the eyes of strangers, cannot
fail to be deeply interesting to true Canadians, particu-
larly when chronicled by a septuagenarian, born only
eight and twenty years alter the conquest of La Nou-
velle France.''^

This book, then, shall be neither too foolish nor too
witty. Too foolish ! why an author should always
have some self-respect : too witty ! why then it would
only be appreciated by very clever people ; and under
constitutional government, candidates generally prefer
quantity to quality. This book w^ill be perfectly
Canadian in style ; it would be somewhat more diffi-
cult for a septuagenarian to change that, than to change
his old coat for one fashionable at the present day. I
make known also that I must have elbow room, and
must not be subjected to any of the prescribed rules
(with w^hich I am well acquainted) in a work like
the one I now offer to the public. Let then the
purists, the professional authors, shocked at its many
defects, call it a romance, memoir, chronicle, salmi-
gondis, pot-pourri, anything they like, it makes no
difference to me.

My little preface finished, I begin this chapter in
earnest by the following beautiful lines, as yet unpub-

..<-*o

e THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

lished, and doubtless much surprised to find them-
selves in such bad company : —

Pois'd like an eaglet on the promontory ^'old,
The while her rocky feet in giant stream she laves ;

Quebec may now her piory's symbol fair behold,
Her ancient flag, which proud in dazzling splendor waves.

See I where alod to Heav'n the young cathedral rears
Its tall and shining spire, beside the castle strong:,

Whilst borne upon the breeze the distant Beaupre hears,
And joyous echoes back the evening Angelus song.

From his canoe that sod the rippling river sways.
The Iroquois beholdii Quebec with fiery glance,

Dreaming and sorrowful, in silence doth he gaze
Upon the true God's cross, and on the flag of France.

Let those who are acquainted with our good city
of Quebec transport themselves, either bodily or in the
spirit, to the Upper Town market place, so as to judge
of the changes that have taken place in this locality
since the year of grace 1757, the date when this story
commences.

The cathedral was then the same as now with
regard to the edifice, but minus the modern tower
which seems as if seeking some charitable soul, either
to raise it higher, or to cut off the head of its giant
sister, who is so scornfully gazing on it from the
height of her greatness.

The Jesuit College, now metamorphosed into a
barrack, appeared much the same as it does at pre-
sent ; but what has become of the church which
formerly stood in the spot now occcupied by the
butcher's market ? Where is the grove of venerable
trees, behind the church, which then adorned the
court now bare and desolate, of the house consecrated
to the education of the Canadian youth } The axe
and time, alas ! have done their work of destruction.
To the merry games, the witty sallies of the young
students, to the grave step of the professors who
walked there for relaxation from deep study, to the
discourses on the highest philosophy, have succeeded
the clang of arms, and the talk of the guard-room, too
often free and senseless.

LEAVING COLLEGE. f

Instead of the present market place, a small market
house containing at the most seven or eight stalls,
occupied a part of the ground lying between the
cathedral and the college. Between this market-
house and the college flowed a rivulet, which des-
cending from Louis street, went down the middle of
Fabrique street, and crossed Couillard street and the
garden of the Hotel-Dieu on its way to the River St.
Charles. Certainly our ancestors had very rural
tastes. It was the end of April ; the rivulet had
overflowed, and children were amusing themselves
by breaking off" and throwing in icicles, which get-
ting smaller and smaller, and surmounting many
obstructions, finished by disappearing from sight, and
losing themselves in the immense River St, Lawrence.
A poet (who finds food for contemplation in every-
thing), looking on dreamingly, with folded arms, and
watching the course of the icicles, their stoppages,
and their leaps over the obstacles they met with,
might have compared them to ambitious men, who,
after a troubled life, arrive at the end of their career,
as light of pocket as of reputation, and finish by
being swallowed up in the gulf of eternity.

The houses which bordered the market place, were
mostly of one story, unlike our modern edinces, which
seem to approach as nearly as possible to heaven, for
fear of another deluge.

It was noon ; the Angelus was sounding from the
cathedral belfry, and all the bells in the town were
announcing the salutation borne by an angel to the
mother of Christ, the beloved protectress of Canada.
The "A«6t/an/s,"* whose carts surrounded the market-
house, uncovered their heads and devoutly recited
the Angelus. Every one being of the same faith,
nobody laughed at this pious observance.

There are many Christians in this 19th century who
appear to be ashamed to perform any act of religious
observance before others ; this is, at the least, proof
either of a narrow mind or of cowardice. Mahometans

* Habitants is the name of the Canadian farmers.

..^^ \

• THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

are more courageous ; llioy pray «evon times a day
everywhere, and in the presence of weak-minded
cliristiaus.

The students of the Jesuits' College, generally so
noisy during recreation, came silently out of the
church where they had been praying. Whence came
this unwonted sadness ? It was because they were
about to lose two beloved companions, two sincen^
friends of all without any exception. The younger of
the two, and the nearer lo their own age, was the one
who oftener shared their boyish games, and protecting
the weak against tho strong, equitably decided their
little dilK'rences.

The gnat entrance to the college was opened, and
two young men, dressed for travelling, appeared in
the midst of their schoolfellows. At their fe6t lay
two leather portmanteaus, about five feet long,
and furnished with rings, chains, and padlocks,
apparently strong enough to moor a vessel. The
younger of the two travellers, slight and of small
stature, might be about eighteen. His dark com-
plexion, large black eyes, and restless movements,
showed his French origin; it was Jules d'Haberville,
the son of a seigneur, captain of a naval detachment
in the colony.*

The second traveller, some two or three years older
than the other, was of a larger and stronger build.
His fine blue eyes, chestnut hair, light and slightly
florid complexion, a few slight freckles on his face
and hands, and a somewhat prominent chin, betrayed
a foreign origin : it was Archibald Cameron of
Locheill, commonly called Archy Locheill, a young
Highlander, who had been completing his studies at
the Jesuits' College at Quebec. But how came he,
a foreigner, in a French colony ? The sequel will
show.

The young men were both remarkably good-look-
ing. Their dress was alike — a sort of great-coat
with a hood (called a capot)^ scarlet cloth leggings

** These detachmenta served aUo by land in the colony.

LEAVING COLLKGE.

l)oun«l willi jfHM'n, blue knitUrd ^artrrn, a largo sash
of bright ami varicgatrd colors, ornaiiirnted with
bea(l>, moccasins or s^hocs of cariboo skin, plaited in
the Indian manner, and the lojjs worked with porcu-
pine quills ; and lastly, (faps of real beaver broujL^lit
down over the ears, by means of a red silk iiandkcr-
chief tied round the nv.rU.

The youni^er one betrayed a feverish agitation, and
kept looking down Uiiade street.

" Voii arc then in a great hurry to leave us, Jules,"
said one of his friends, reproachfully.

'' Ah no, Laronde," answered d'Hal)erville, " 1
assure you, no ; but since this painful parting must
take place, I am in a hurry to have done with it ; it
unnerves me ; besides it is but natural that I should
be in haste to see my relations again."

" That is but right," replied i^aronde, " and besides,
you being a Canadian, we may live in hopes of seeing
you again soon."

" It is not so with you, Archy," said another. " I
much fear we part from you forever, if you
return to your country. Promise us to come back,"
sounded on all sides.

During this conversation, Jules had darted liki; an
arrow towards two menwhow<?re walking fast along
by the side of the cathedral, each with an oar on his
right shoulder. One of them wore the dress of a
habitant ; capot of black home-made cloth, a grey
woollen cap, leggings and garters of the same color,
a belt of variegated colors, and large moccasins of
untanned leather. The costume of the other one was
much the same as that of the young travellers, but not
so rich. The former, a tall rough-mannered man, was
a Pointe-Levis boatman (a). The latter, of a mid-
dling height and powerful frame, was in the service
of Captain d'Haberville, Jules' father ; a soldier
during the war, he had taken up his quarters with
the captain during peace. He was of the same age
as his captain, and was also his foster brother. He

(ff) These letters reler to the notes placed at the end of the volume.

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

was the family's confidential servant, had rocked the
cradle of Jules, and often put him to sleep in his
arms, singing the lively airs sung by travellers in the
upper country.

" How are yon, Jose ? and how have you left them
all at home .?" said Jules, throwing himself into his
arms.

" All well, thank God," replied Jose ; " they send
you many messages, and are in great haste to see you.
But how you have grown since I saw you last, eight
months ago ! ma frine (foi) Monsieur Jules, it is a
pleasure to see you."* Jose, although treated with
the most familiar kindness by all the d'Haberville
family, never failed in respect to them.

Question followed question ; Jules asked about the
servants, the neighbors, the old dog which, when in
the lower class, he had named Niger^ to show his
knowledge of Latin. He did not even bear a spite
to the greedy cat who, the year before, had munched
up alive a young pet nightingale, for which he had a
great afliection, and which he intended taking with
him to college. It is true that in his first transport of
rage, he had chased the cat with a thick stick under
tables, sheds, and even to the roof of the house, where
the vvicked animal took refuge as in an impregnable
fortress. But now he had forgiven her her misdeeds,
and even asked about her.

*' Now then," said Baron, the boatman, who was
not much interested in the scene, " Now then !" said
he in a rough tone, " when you have done talking of
the (logs and cats, perhaps you will be kind enough
to start. Tide wails for nobody (6)."

Notwithstanding Baron's impatience and crustiness,
the farewells of the young men were long and sad.
The masters embraced them afi'ectionately.

" Each of you is going to follow the career of
arms," said the superior to them, " and will be per-

* The author has put into Jose's mouth the language of the old Cana-
dian country habitants, without, however, alwa/s confining himself to it.

He will also frequently make use of expressions peculiar to the country
people without italicising them.

LEAVING COLLEGE.

petually exposed to losing your life on the battle-
field ; therefore should you doubly love and serve God.
If Providence decrees that you should fall, be ready
at any moment to present yourself with a pure con-
science before his tribunal. Let your war-cry be,
' For my God, my king, and my country.* "

Archy's last words were, " Farewell, you who
have opened your arms and your hearts to an outlawed
child ; farewell, my noble-hearted friends, whose
constant efforts have been to make the poor exile for-
get that he came of a race alien to your own ! Fare-
well, farewell ! perhaps forever."
Jules was much affected.

" This separation would be a very painful one to
me," said he, " were it not that I have hopes of soon
seemg Canada again, with the regiment in which I
am going to serve in France." Then addressing him-
self to the masters of the college, he said :

" I have abused your kindness, gentlemen, but
you all know that my heart has always been worth
more than my head*; so excuse the one for the
sake of the other, I beg of you. As for you, my dear
fellow-students," he added in a voice that he vainly
endeavored to make gay, " I acknowledge that though
I have tormented you terribly with my tricks during
my ten years of college life, I have made you ample
amends by causing many a hearty laugh." And
taking Archy's arm, he hurried him away to conceal
his emotion.

Let us leave our travellers to cross the St. Lawrence,
certain of soon rejoining them at Pointc-Levis.

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

CHAPTER II.

-^^>S>

Give rae, oh ! give me back the days
When I — I too — was young,
And felt, as they now leel, each coming hour
New consciousness of power.

The fields, the grove, the air was haunted.
And all that age has disenchanted.

Give me, oh ! give youth's passions unconfined,
The rush of joy that lelt almost like pain.

Goethe.

archibald cameron of locheill jules

d'haberville.

Archibald Cameron of Locheill, the son of a High-
land Chieftain and of a French lady, was but four
years old when he had the misfortune of losing his
mother. Brought up by his father, a true son of
Nimrod, who, according to the beautiful Scripture
expression, " was a mighty hunter before God,'' he,
from ten years of age, followed him in his adventu-
rous expeditions in pursuit of the roebuck and other
wild animals, climbing the steepest mountains, often
swimming across the icy torrents, and sleeping fre-
quently on the damp ground with no other covering
than his plaid, no other shelter than the vault of
heaven The child, thus brought up like a Spartan,
seemed to delight in this wild and roving life.

Archy was but twelve years old in the year 1745,
when 1 is father joined the standard of the young and
unfortvtiate Prince, who came like a hero of ro-
mance, to throw himself into the arms of his Scotch
fellow countrymen, hoping, with their assistance, to
regain the crown which he ought to have renounced

■MBMIMPMnH

LOCHEILL AND D'HABERVILLE.

for pvr after the disastrous battle of Culloder\. In
spite of the rashness of the entreprise, in spite of the
numberless difficulties tliey met with in their une-
qual struggle against the powerful army of England,
none of these brave mountaineers failed him in his
hour of need ; on the contrary, all responded to his
appeal with the enthusiasm of noble, generous, and
devoted men, whose hearts were touched by Charles
Edward's confidence in their loyalty, and at the sight
of the unfortunate Prince as a suppliant.

At the beginning of this sanguinary struggle, cou-
rage triumphed over numbers and discipline ; and
the mountains echoed from afar, songs of triumph
and victory. Enthusiasm was then at its height ; suc-
cess no longer seemed doubtful. Alas ! it was a
vain hope ; they had to yield, even after the most
brilliant feats of arms. Archibald Cameron of Lo-
cheill, the father, shared the fate of so many other
brave soldiers who crimsoned the battle field of Cul-
loden with their blood.

One long groan of rage and despair was heard
from the mountains and valleys of old Caledonia.
Her children were forced to renounce for ever all
hopes of obtaining that liberty for which they had
desperately and bravely fought for so many cen-
turies. It was the last sob of agony from a heroic
nation which is obliged to succumb. Scotland, now
a.a integral portion of one of the most powerful
empireo in the world, has had no reason to regret
her defeat. Her former enemies take pride in the
works of her literary men, and her statesmen have
been as renowned in the cabinet of their Sovereign as
her warriors have been in fighting for their new
country. Whilst their brothers of green Erin, the
warm-hearted and generous Irish, still writhe under
and gnaw their chains, they (the Scotch) peacefully
enjoy prosperity. Why is there this diflference ?
Ireland has certainly furnished more than her con-
tingent of glory to proud Albion. The powerful
voice of her orators has electrified the English Parlia-

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

ment and courts of justice ; her soldiers, the bravest
of the brave, have conquered kingdoms, her poets and
writers charm the leisure of the men of letters in
Great Britain. No share of glory has been denied
her. Why then does her death-cry still resound in
the fields, the valleys, the mountains, and even in the
land of exile? One would think that the soil of
Erin, watered by so many tears would only produce
wormwood, briars, and thorns ; and yet her meadows
are always green and her fields bring forth abundant
harvests. Why does this low muttering precursor of
the storm bust forth from the hearts of the generous
Irish? History replies to this question.

An uncle of Archy's who had also followed the
standard and the fortunes of the unhappy Prince,
succeeded, after the disastrous battle of Culloden, in
saving his head from the scaffold, and in spite of a
thousand obstacles and dangers, contrived to take
refuge in France, taking with him the young or-
phan.

The old gentleman, proscribed and rained, was
with much difficulty providing for his own and his
nephew's necessities, when a Jesuit, a maternal uncle
of the young man's, relieved iiim of one part of the
heavy burden. Archy having been received into the
Jesuit's College at Quebec, was just leaving it after
completing his studies, when the reader is introduced
to him.

Archibald Cameron of Locheill, precociously
matured by the heavy hand of misfortune, did not
know, on first entering college, what opinion to form
of a roguish, wild boy, an endless lover of practical
jokes, who seemed to be the torment of both masters
and boys. It is true that this child often got more
than he wanUid ; out of twenty canings or imposi-
tions administered to the class by the teacher, at
least nineteen were pocketed by Jules d'Haberville
as his share.

It must also be confessed that the big boys, ofven
quite out of patience, gave him more than his share

LOCilEILL AND D'UABERVILLE.

of cufis ; but one would have lliouglil he rather
liked them than otherwise, to judge from his readi-
ness to recommence his tricks. Without being spite-
ful, he never forgave an injury, always revenging
himself in some way or other. His sarcasms, keen
darts which just wounded skin-deep, always struck
home either to the masters themselves, or the bigger
boys whom he could not reach in any other way.

His maxim was never to allow that he was
beaten, and for the sake of peace and quietness, they
had at last to beg for peace.

One would certainly think that this child would
be universally detested ; but on the contraiy, every
one was fond of him, and he was the pet oi the col-
lege. It was because he had such a heart as rarely
beats in man's breast. To say that he was generous
even to prodigality, that he was always ready to de-
fend the absent, to sacrifice himself that he might
shield others, would hardly give so true an idea of his
disposition, as the following anecdote. When he was
about twelve years of age, a big boy, losing patience,
gave him a good kick, without, however, having any
intention of doing him harm. Jules, on principle,
never told tales of his school-fellows to the masters,
as he thought it ungentlemanly to do so ; he therefore
only said to him, " You are too thick-headed, you fe-
rocious animal, for mo to pay you out with sarcasms ;
you would not understand them, but that hide of
yours must be drilled through, and don't be alarmed,
you shall lose nothing by waiting."

Jules, after having rejected several means of re-
venge which were tolerably ingenious, fixed upon
that of shaving off the boy's eye-brows whilst he was
asleep, — a punishment the more easily inflicted, from
the fact that Dubuc slept so heavily as to be obliged,
even of a morning, to be roughly shaken to awaken
him. Besides it was attacking him at the vulnerable
point, as he was a good-looking boy, and took pride
in his appearance.

Jules had then decided on this punishment, when

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

he heard Dubuc say to one of his friends who taxed
him with being out of spirits :

" I have good reason to be so, for I expect niy father
to-morrow. In spite of his prohibition, I have run in
debt at several stores, and with my tailor, hoping that
my mother would come to Quebec and would get me
out of trouble unknown to him. My father is stingy,
quick-tempered, and violent, and on the impulse of
the moment might strike me ; I do not know what to
do for the best. I feel almost inclined to run away
till the storm is over,"

" But why on earth," said Jules, who had over-
heard this, *' did you not have recourse to me ?"

" Well, I don't know," said Dubuc, shaking his
head.

" Do you think," said .Jules, " that for the sake of
a kick or so, I would let a school-fellow be in trouble
and at the mercy of his amiable father .-' You cer-
tainly nearly broke my back, but that is an affair
to be settled in the proper time and place. How
much do you want .?"

" Ah ! my dear Jules," replied Dubuc, " it would
be abusing your generosity. It is a good large sum,
that I am in need of, and I know that just at present
you are not in funds, for you emptied your purse to
relieve that poor widow whose husband met with an
accident, and was killed."

" Did you ever hear such a fellow !" answered
Jules, " as if one could not always find money to
save one's friend from a cross, stingy father, who
might break his neck for him ! How much do you
want .''"

" Fifty francs !"

" You shall have them this evening," said the child.

Jules, the only son of a rich family, spoilt by every
body, had always his pockets full of money ; father,
mother, uncles, aunts, and god-parents, even whilst
proclaiming aloud the maxim, " that it is very dan-
gerous to ]et children have too much money at their
disposal,'' vied with one another in giving it to him

•mr^.-w^r^.'^f^-'vn- *

LOCHEILL AND DIIABERVILLE.

unknown to each othor. Nevertheless Dubuc had
said what was true : at that moment his purse was
empty. Besides, fifty francs was a good round sum.
The French King only paid his Indian allies 60
francs for each English scalp ; the English monarch,
richer or more generous, gave 100 for a French one.

Jules had too much delicacy to apply to his uncles
and aunts, the only relations he had in Quebec. His
first idea was to borrow fifty francs on his gold watch,
which was worth twenty-five pounds. But on recon-
sidering the matter he thought of an old woman, for-
merly a servant in his family, to whom his father had
given a mariage portion, and to whom he hc.d after-
wards advanced a small sum to enable her to com-
mence a, little business, which had since prospered in
her hands. She was well oft", and a widow without
children.

There were many difliculties in the way ; the old
lady w'as stingy and cross, and besides she and
Jules had not parted on the best of terms at his last
visit to her ; indeed she had chased him into the
street with her broomstick. However the little rogue
was only guilty of a peccadillo ; he Lad made her fa-
vorite spaniel take a pinch of snuflf, and whilst the
old lady was flying to the rescue of her dog, he had
emptied the rest of her snufF into a dandelion salad
which she had been carefully preparing for her sup-
per, and called out to her, " See, mammy, here is the
seasoning." No matter ; Jules thought it urgent to
make peace with the old lady, and so now for the
preliminaries. He took her round the neck on en-
tering, notwithstanding the old lady's efforts to extri-
cate herself from demonstrations that were far too
tender, after the insults he had offered her.

" Come Madeline," exclaimed he, " * fuluron don-
daine,' as the old song says, I have come to forgive
you your offences, as you ought to forgive all who
have offended you. Every one says you are stingy
and revengeful, but that is nothing to me. You will
2

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

have to atono for it by broiling in the next world, but
I wash my hands of all that."

Madeline did not know whether to langh or be
vexed at this beautiful preamble ; but as she had a
weakness for the child, in spite of his tricks, she took
the wisest course and began to laugh.

" Now we are in a good humor again," pursued
Jules, " I want to have a serious conversation with
you. I have been plaving the fool you see, and have
got into debt ; I am afraid of being blamed by my
father, and still more so of annoying him. I want
fifty francs to hush up this business, can you lend
them to me .^"

" But my gracious Mons. d'Haberville," said the
old woman, " if that was all I had in the world, I
would give it with my whole heart to save your good
father the slightest annoyance, I am under so many
obligations to your family."

" Oh nonsense !" said Jules, " I will have nothing
to say to you if you begin to talk of that; but listen,
my good Madeline, as I may break my neck just at
the moment it is least or most to be expected, whilst
climbing on the college roof and the various spires in
Quebec city, I am going to give you a little word in
writing, by way of acknowledgment ; however, I
hope to discharge my debt " to you in a week's time,
at the latest."

Madeline became downright angry, refused the ac-
knowledgment, and counted him out the fifty francs.
Jules nearly strangled her whilst embracing her, and
jumping out of the window started ofi" towards the
college.

At the evening hour of recreation Dubuc was freed
from all uneasiness as regarded his amiable father.
" But remember," said d'Haberville, *' I still owe you
one for that trick."

" Stop, my dear friend," said Dubuc, quite over-
come, " pay me out at once ; break my head or my
back with the poker if you will, but put an end to the
matter ; it would be too painful to me to think you

LOCHEILL AND D'HABERVILLE.

owed me a grudge, after the service you have just
rendered me."

" There you are again," answered the child, " the
idea of my bearing a grudge against any fellow, just
because I owe him one of my little rewards ! Is
that your way? Come, give me your hand and
think no more of the mat*'>r. At all events you can
boast of being the only one who ever scratched me
without my drawing blood in return."

So saying, he sprang on his shoulders like a
monkey, pulled his hair a little, just as a relief to his
conscience, and ran to rejoin the merry band who
were waiting for him.

Archibald Locheill, matured by severe trials, and
starting with a colder and more reserved disposition
than is usual with children of his age, did not quite
know on first entering college whether to laugh at or
resent the tricks of the little imp, who seemed to
have selected him as his butt, and to give him no
peace. He did not know that this was Jules' manner
of showing his affection for those he liked best. At
last Archy, quite out of patience, said one day to him,
*' You really are enough to provoke a saint ; I am
quite in despair about you."

" The remedy for your woes is in your own hands,
however," said Jules ; "just give me a good thrashing
and I will leava you alone. It would be easy for you,
who are as strong as Hercules."

In fact Locheill, accustomed from childhood 1o the
boisterous games of his Highland countrymen, was
at fourteen remarkably strong for his age.

" Do you think me cowardly enough to strike a
boy younger and smaller than myself?"

" Why ! you are like me then," said Jules, " never
even a fillip to a little fellow, but a good wrestle with
those of my own age, or even older, and then shake
hands and think no more about the matter. You
know that fellow Chavigny," continued Jules, " he
is older than I am, but he is so weak and sickly that
I have never had the heart to strike him, although he
2*

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

played me one of ihoso Iricks that ono can hardly for-
give, if one is not a second St. Francis de Sales.
Only imagine his running up to nic once quite out of
breath, saying. —

" I have just filched an egg from that greedy fel-
low Letourneau, who iiad stolen it in the large
dining room. Quick ! hide it, for he is after me.

*' And where shall I hide it.!* said I to him.

" ' In your hat,' he answered, ' he'll never think of
looking there for it.'

" I was fool enough to believe him ; I ought to
have distrusted him, bocau.se he entreated me so.
Letourneau came running up, and without warning,
hit me a blow on the head. The devil of an egg
nearly blinded mc, and I assure you there was a per-
fume by no means like that of the rose : it was an
addled cgg^ taken from the nest of a hen who must
have left it at least a month. I escaped with the
spoiling of my hat, waistcoat and other clothes.* Well,
my first feeling of anger over, 1 ended by laughing at
it ; and if I have a little spite against him, it is be-
cause he forestalled me with the trick, wiiich I should
have enjoyed playing off on Derome, on account of
his powdered head. As for Letourneau, he being
far loo much of a fool to have invented the trick, I
only said to him, ' Blessed are the poor in spirit,' and
he went away quite proud of the compliment, and
well pleased to he quit of me at so little cost."

" Now, my dear Archy," continued Jules, " let
us come to an agreement ; I am a merciful poten-
tate, and my terms shall be liberal. I undertake on
my honor as a gentleman to retrench one-third of the
jokes and tricks tliat you have the bad (aste not
to appreciate. Come, you ought to be satisfied, if
you are not excessively unreasonable ! For you see,
Archy, I like you ; to no one but yourself would I grant
such advantageous terms."

* Alas! of all those who made the halls, corridors and courts of the Que-
bec Seminary resound with 'heir lau|Sfhler, when a similar trick was played
to the author on his first entrance into that excellent house of education>
not one is still in the land of the liviuij.

LOCHEILI, AND D'HABERVILLE.

Lochoill could not help laughing, whilst ho gave
the incorrigible young rascal a shaking.

It was after this conversation that the two boys
began their frienship ; Archy, at first, with true Scotch
cautiousness, but Jules with all the warmth of his
French temperament.

A short time afterwards, about a month before the
holidays, which then began the twelfth of August,
Jules, taking his friend's arm, said to him : " Come
into my room ; I have a letter from father which
concerns you-"

" Concerns mc !" said the other, much surprised.

" What are you astonished at ?" replied d'Haber-
vllle ; " do you think you are not a sufficiently
important personage for any one to trouble their heads
about ? All over New France, every one speaks of
the handsome Scotchman. It is said that the mothers
fearing you may quickly set their daughters' hearts
on fire, are intending to present a petition to the
superior of the College, in order that you may only
go out in the streets when covered with a veil, like
the Eastern women."

" A truce to your nonsense, and let me go on
reading."

" But I am quite in earnest," said Jules. And
dragging away his friend, he read him a passage from
his father Capt. d'Habeiville's letter, which ran thus :

" What you write to me about your young friend
Mons. Locheill, interests mc exceedingly. It is with
the greatest pleasure that I gvant your request.
Present my compliments to him and beg him to come
and pass with us, not only his approaching holidays,
but all his others, during his stay at college. If this
unceremonious invitation is not sufficient from a man
of my age, I will write more formally to him. His
father lies low on a nobly-contested field of battle ;
honor to the grave of a brave soldier. All soldiers
are brothers ; their children should be so also. Let
him come under my roof, and we will receive him
with open arms, as one of our own family."

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

Arcliy was so aflocted by this pressing invitation,
that he was some time without answering.

" Well, you proud Seotchman," continued his
friend, " will you do us the honor of accepting ? Or,
must my father send his major-domo Jose Dube, as
ambassador, with a bag[)ipe across his shoulder, — as I
believe is the custom among the chiefs of the mountain
clans, — and bearing an epistle in due form ?"

" As, happily for me, I am no longt^r among the
Scotch mountains," said Archy, laughing, " we may
dispense with that formality. I will immediately
write to Capt. d'llaberville, thanking him for his
invitation, which is so noble, so handsome, so gratify-
ing to me, an orphan and in a strange land."

*' Then let us talk sensibly," said Jules, " were it
only for the novelty of the thing as regards myself.
You think me very frivolous, very foolish, and very
hare-brained. I confess I am somewhat of all three ;
however, that does not prevent ray sometimes reflect-
ing more deeply than you give me credit for. For a
long time I have been seeking a friend, a real friend,
a friend with a noble and generous heart ! I have
watched you narrowly ; you possess all these qualities.
Now, Archy Locheill, will you be that friend .!""

*' Certainly, my dear Ji les, for I have always felt
myself attracted to you."

" Then," exclaimed Juljs, pressing his hand with
much emotion, " it is in life and until death with us
two, Locheill !"

Thus, between a child of twelve and another of
fourteen, was sealed a friendship which was after-
wards exposed to severe trials.

" Here is a letter from my mother," said Jules, *' in
which there is a word for you."

" I hope your friend, Mons. de Locheill, will do us
the pleasure of accepting your father's invitation.
We are all looking forward to the pleasure of making
his acquaintance. His room is ready, next to yours.
In the box that Jos6 will give you there is a little
package addressed to him, which he would pain me

I.OCIIEII.I, AN'I) D'lIAnF.RVri.Lr..

much by rerusint,'. Whilst doing it up, I was tliinking
of the mother he han lost !"

The box oonlaincd a similar provision for eacii
child, of cakes, sweotnuMits, pres(;rves, and other
eatables.

The friendship between the two boys increased
daily. The new friends became inseparable, and
wore commonly called at colh^ge, Damon and Pythias,
Orestes and Pylades, Nysus and Euryale, they ended
by calling themselves brothers. All the time that
Locheill was at college he passed his holidays in the
country, at the d'Habervilles, who seemed to make
no difterence between the two boys, except that they
showed more marked atlcniiion to the young Scotch-
man, who had now become one of the family ; it was
therefore quite natural that Archy before leaving for
England, should accompany Jules in the farewell
visit he was to pay his relations.

The friendship of the young men was afterwards
to be put to cruel tests, when that code of honor,
which civilization substituted for the more truthful
impulses of nature, forced on them the inexorable
duties of men who are fighting under hostile banners.
But what avails the dark future. For the ten years that
their studies lasted, did they not enjoy that friendship
of early manhood, which, like the love of woman,
has its passing griefs, its bitter jealousies, its delirious
joys, 'ts quarrels and delicious reconciliations?

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

CHAPTER III.

-=$©$=>-

Angels and ministers of grace, defend us !

Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damned,

Bring with thee airs from heaven, or Wast from hell ?

— HAMtET.

Ecoute comme les bois orient. Les liiboux fiiient epou-
vantls. . . » . .Entends-tu ces voix dans les hauteurs, dans

le lointain, ou pres de nous 1 Eh ! oui ! la montagse

retentit, dans toute $a longueur, d'un furieux chant magique.

— Favst.

Lest bogles catch him unawares ;
Where ghaists and howlets nightly cry.
When out the hellish legion sallied. — Bcrns.

A NIGHT AVITH THE GOBLINS.

As soon as the young travellers had arrived at Pointe
Levis, after crossing the St. Lawrence, opposite the
city of Quebec, Jose hastened to harness a handsome
and powerful horse to a sleigh without runners, the
only means of transport at that time of year, when
there was as much bare ground as snow and ice, and
when numerous rivulets had overflown their banks, thus
intercepting the road by which our travellers had to pass.
Whenever they met with one of these obstacles, Jose
took the horse out, and all three mounting it, they
soon got across. Jules, who held on to Jose, could
not refrain from occasionally making vigorous efforts
to unseat him, at the risk of sharing with him the
exquisite luxury of a cold bath ; however, it was
labor in vain, he might as well have tried to throw
Cape Tourmente into the St. Lawrence. Jose, who,
though only middle-sized, was as sirong as an elephant,

A NIGHT WITH THE GOBLINS.

laughed to himself and pretended not to notice it.
When clear of the impediment, Jose returned alone
for the sleigh, and putting the horse to again, mounted
it with the baggage in front of him, for fear of its
getting wet, and soon ovt^rtook his travelling com-
panions who had not slackened their pace for a
moment. Thanks to Jules, conversation did not flag
during the journey. Archy was perpetually laughing
at his own expense, but to this he had long been
accustomed.

*' Let us make haste," said d'Haberville, " we
have twelve leagues to travel from here to St. Thomas.*
My uncle de Beaumont sups at seven o'clock, and if
we arrive there too late, we run the risk of making
but a poor meal, the best will have been gobbled up ;
you know the proverb, ' tarde venientibus ossa.' "

" Scotch hospitality is proverbial," replied Archy,
" with us there is the same welcome by night as by
day. It is the cook's business. "

" Credo^^^ answered Jules ; *' I believe it as firmly
as if I had seen it with my own eyes ; otherwise, you
see, your man-cooks in petticoats would be wanting
in skillfulness and good will. Scotch cooking is
delightfully primitive ! With a few handfuls of oat-
meal mixed in the icy water of a brook in winter-
time — for in your country there is neither coal nor
wood — one can, at small cost, and without needing
any great culinary skill, make an excellent ragout,
and feast all comers by day and by night. It is true
that when some noble personage claims your hospi-
tality — and this frequently happens, as every Scotch-
man has a load of armorial bearings, enough to break
down a camel, — it is true, I say, that then you add to
the usual dish a sheep's head, feet, and nice juicy tail
dressed with salt ; the rest of the animal is wanting
in Scotland."

Lochiell only looked over his shoulders at Jules, say-

ing:

Quis taiia fajidoMyrmidonum, Dolopumve, ,

* Now the village of Montmagny.

^^}MbsmKfmf*BSfie'Aim<gtif.^'ist!simmiBsiaxma

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

" Now, then," broke in the latter, pretending to be
angry, " do you call mo Myrmidon and Dolope* — I
who am a great philosopher ! And besides, you great
pedant, you insult me in Latin, a language whose
quantities you murder so cruelly with your Scotch
accent, that the shade of Virgil must tremble in its
tomb ! You call me Myrmidon, I, the best geome-
trician of my clfcjs ! — in proof of which my mathema-
tical tutor predicted I should be a Vauban, or perhaps
even — "

" Yes !" interrupted Archy, " on purpose to laugh
at you on account of that famous perpendicular line
of yours which leaned to the left, so much that the rest
of the class trembled for the fate of the base it threat-
ened to overwhelm ; our tutor perceiving this, tried
to console you by predicting that if ever the tower of
Pisa should be re-built, the rule and compass would
be entrusted to you."

JuiCs assumed a mock tragic attitude, and ex-
claimed :

Tu t'eii sonvieus, Cinna! ct. vetix m'assassifier.

You want to assassinate me here on the high-
road by the side of the river St. Lawrence, with-
out being touched with the beauties of nature which
surround us on all sides ; in sight to the north, of that
beautiful Montmorency fall, which the habitants call
* la vache,'f (the cow) a name, not too poetical,
perhaps, but describing well the whiteness of the
stream which it continually pours down, like a milch-
cow giving forth the milk in which consists the riches
of the husbandman. You would assassinate me here
before the Isle of Orleans, which, as we advance, is
beginning partly to obscure the view of that beautiful
fall, which 1 have described in such glowing colors.
Ungrateful man ! can nothing soften your heart ? not
even the sight of poor Jose who is highly edified at
hearing so much wisdom and eloquence from the lips

* Myrmidom, Dolopes.— Slighting names given by the boys in the upper
classes', to those not yet in the fourth,
t The habitants still call the Montmorency falls " la vache."

ja!3iS=;SS6«SI«»*»?wj!.,v-»rt

A NIGHT WITH THE GOBLINS.

of such tender youtli, as Fenolor would liuve said,
had he written my life and adventures.'^

" Do you iuiov-'," interrupted Archy, " that you are
at least as great a poet as a geometrician ?"

" Who doubts it ?" said Jules. " No matter, my
perpendicular line made you all laugh, and me the
first of all. Besides ycu knew it was a tricJ: of that
fellow Chavigny, whv, had stolen my exercise and
substituted one of his own, which I presented to the
tutor. You all pretended not to believe me, as you
were too glad to see me hoaxed who am always
hoaxing others."

Jose, who generally took but little part in the con-
versation of the young men, and who, besides, had
understood nothing at all of the last part of it, muttered
to himself * that must be a funny kind of a country
anyhow, where the sheep have only heads, tails, and
feet, and no more bqdy than my hand ! After all, it
is no business of mine, the men being the masters,
can always manage to live well, but the poor horses !"
Jose, who was a great judge of horse-flesh, had a
tender regard for the noble quadruped. Addressing
himself to Archy, and touching his hat to him, he
said. " With all respect to you. Sir, as all the nobles
even eat oats in your country, which I suppose must
be for want of something better, what becomes of the
poor horses ? They must suffer a good deal if they
work hard."

The two yonng men burst out laughing at this
original idea of Jose's. A little put out by their mirth
at his expense, he resumed. " You must excuse me
if I have said anything foolish ; one may make a
mistake without drinking, like Mr. Jules, who has
just told us that the habitants call the Montmorency
falls ' la vache,' because it.^i foam is white as milk ;
now I believe it is because during certain winds it
roars like a cow bellowing ; that Is what the old
people say when they are talking of it."*

Dont distress yourself, my good man," said Jules ;

((

* There are two vcrjsions of this important matter.

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

you are probably right. What made us laugh was
your inquiring if there were horses in Scotland ;
it is an animal quite unknown in that country."

" No horses, sir ! How do the poor folks manage
to travel ?"

" When I say no hcses," said d'Haberville, " you
must not take it quite literally. There is certainly an
animal which resembles our horses, an animal a little
larger than my big dog Niger, and which lives wild
among the mountains like our cariboo, to which
indeed it also bears a slight resemblance. When a
mountaineer wishes to travel, he blows the bagpipe
till all the village being assembled, he imparts his
project to them. The people start off into the v/oods
or rather amongst the heather, and after a day or
two's trouble and unheard of efforts, they generally
succeed in catching one of these charming animals.
Then after another day's work, or even longer, if the
animal is not too headstrong aftd the mountaineer
has sufficient patience, he starts on his journey and
sometimes arrives safely at the end of it."

" Well," said Lochiell, " it is fine for you to laugh
at our Highlanders ! You ought to be proud indeed
of your princely equipage ! Posterity will find it
difficult of belief that the 'high and powerful Seigneur
d'Haberville has sent a sleigh used for carting manure,
to fetch home the presumptive heir of his vast
domains ! Of course he will send outriders to meet
us, that nothing may be wanting to our triumphal
entry into the manor of St. Jean-Port-Joli !"

" Well done, Lochiell !" said Jules, " well answer-
ed ; you have got out of that well ! Tii for tat, as a
saint of your country or somewhere thereabouts said,
when he came to blows with his satanic majesty."

During this coloquy, Jose was scratching his head
with a piteous look. Like Caleb Balderstone in Sir
Walter Scott's " Bride of Lamermoor," he was very
sensitive about everything affecting the honor of his
master's family. He therefore exclaimed in a doleful
voice.

:-r»tfm*f>iwmmni*<ffiw

A NIGHT WITH THE GOBLINS.

" What a fool I was. it, is aU my fault ! The
master has four ortrriages in the coach-house, and two
of them, bran new, are varnislied as bright as fiddles ;
so bright that Sunday last having broken my look-
ing-glass, I shaved myself in the panels of the brightest
of them. So when the master said to me the day before
yesterday morning, ' make yourself smart Jose, for
you are going to Quebec to fetch my son and his
friend Mr. Lochiell, mind you take care and have a
suitable carriage for them.' I, fool that I was, said to
myself, seeing the state of the roads, the only suitable
carriage is a sleigh without runners. Ah, indeed I
shall catcii it finely ! I shall be well out of it if I
have only my allowance of brandy stopped for a
month. At three glasses a day," added Jose, shaking
his head, " that would make ninety glasses stopped
without counting the ' a-dons," (occasional extra
glasses) but it is all right, I shall have well deserved
the punishment."

The young men were much amused at Jose's
ingenious lie, to shield his master's honor.

" Now," said Archy " that you seem to have
emptied your budget of all the nonsense that a French
head, destitute of brains, is able to contain, will you
please speak rationally, if you possibly can, and tell
me the reason why the Island of Orleans is called the
Sorcerer's Island."

" Why, for the simplest of all reasons," said Jules
d^Haberville ; " it is because it is inhabited by a
great number of sorcerers. "

" Now there you are again at your nonsense,"
said Lochiell.

" Indeed I am in earnest," answered Jules. " Really
the pride of you Scotch, is unbearable ! You will
allow nothing to any other nation ! Do you really
think you have a monopoly in sorcerers .-* What pre-
tention ! Know, my dear fellow, that we, too, have
sorcerers ; and two hours ago only, between Pointe-
Levis and Beaumont I could easily have introduced
you to a very presentable sorceress (a). Know, fur-

r'.^H«««)!«»>MK«M4Rfl|«WMIMM««l4

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

ther, that at my honored fatlier's seigniory, you will
see a sorceress of the highest order. My dear fellow,
the great difference is that in Scotland you burn tiiem,
but here we treat them with all the respect due to
their high social position. Now just aibk Jose, if I
am telling you lies."

Jose was not backward in confirming his stateme*^t;
the witch of Beaumont and that of St. Jean-Port-Joli,
being in his eyes bond fide sorceres.ses.

" But," said Jules, " to speak seriously, since you
insist on making a reasonable creature of me, nolens
volens (as my old master of the sixth form used to say
when he administered a decoction of ferules to me) I
really believe what has given rise to this superstition
is that the habitants of the north and the south shores
of the river seeing tlie people on the island setting out
on their fishing excursions with torches during the
dark nights, generally mistook tliese lights for an ignis
fatuus^ (6) now you must know that our country
Canadians believe ignes fatui to be caused by sorcer-
ers, or evil sprits who seek to attract poor people to
dangerous places in order that they may be lost ; thus
according to their tradition, you can hear the spirits
laugh when the unhappy traveller thus misled is
engulfed in the morass. What must have given rise
to this belief is that these gases are always escaping
in low, swampy lands ; and from that to sorcerers
there is but one step."*

" Impossible ! " said Archy. " You break down
in your logic, as our mas;ter of philosophy often used
tn tell you. You mast see that the habitants on the
north and south sliores opposite to the Island of Or-
leans, also go out fishing with torches, and then the
inhabitants of the island would have bestowed upon
them likewise the name of sorcerers. That will not do. "

* This discussion on the sorcerers of the Island of Orleans was written
before Dr. Larue had published his charming legends, <'Les Soirees Cat. -
diennes." The author was inclined like him to the solution that Jules
offered, and notwithstanding Locheill's arguments to the contrary, when,
alas ! our friend Jose comes to confound the disciple ot Cujas and the son
of Esculapius.

A NIGHT WITH THE GOBLINS.

Whilst Jules was shaking his head, without answer-
ing, Jose commenced speaking.

" If you would allow me, young gentlemen, I
could easily put you right by telling you what hap-
pened to my defunct father, who is dead."

" Oh ! do tell us, Jose ; do tell us what happened
to your defunct father who is dead," exclaimed Jules,
laying particular stress on the last three words.

" Oh, my good Jose," said Lochiell, " I beg of
you to do us the pleasure. "

" Well, it is a little hard for me," said Jose, " for
you see I have not the fine accent nor the fine organ
(voice) of the dear defunct. Of an evening when he
used to tell us his tribulations, we used to shake all
over, as if we had the ague, it was a pleasure to see
us ; but, however, I will do my best to satisfy you."

" Well, one day my defunct father who is dead,
had left town a little latish to return home ; he had
even stopped at Pointe-Levis a little while to amuse
himself — in fact to be pretty jolly ■^n\h his friends ;
the good man liked a drop of comfort, and that was
why, when he travelled, he always carried a small
bottle of brandy in his ;seal-skin bag ; he used to say
it was old men's milk."

" Lac duke,'''' said Lochiell, drily.

" With all due respect, Master Archy," replied
Jose, a little put out, " it was not soft (douce) water ;
nor lake water, but good wholesome brandy, that my
defunct father carried in the bag."

" Upon my word, that is excellent !" exclaimed
Jules. " You were paid out there for your eternal
latin quotations."

" Forgive me, Jose," said Lochiell, quite seriously ;
" I had no intention of treating the memory of your
defunct father with disrespect."

" You are excused," said Jose, his wrath suddenly
appeased. " It happened that when my father wanted
to set out, it was quite dark. His friends did all they
could to keep him all night, telling him he would
have to pass alone before the iron cage where La

n-stfuimMfctii

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

Corriveau underwent her punishment for having killed
her husband. You have seen her yourselves, .gentle-
men, when we left Pointe- Levis at one o'clock ; the
wicked thing was then quiet enough in her cage, with
her skull without eyes ; but don't trust lier, she is sly
enough, and if she can't see by day, she knows well
enough how to find her way about at night and
torment people. Well, my defunct father, who was
as brave as his Captain's sword, told them he cared
nothing about it and that ho owed nothing to La
Corriveau, and a heap of o1 her things which I have
forgotten. He touched his horse with the whip and
away went the swift beast like the wind.

" When he came near the skeleton, lie thought he
heard a noise like some one groaning ; but as a strong
southwester was blowing, lie thought it must be the
wind among the bones of the corpse. Still it bothered
him, and he took a good drop to cheer himself up.
All things considered, he said to himself, Christians
should help one another : perhaps the poor creature
(woman) wants some prayers. So he took off his
cap and devoutly said a de prefundi in her behalf,
thinking if it did not do her any good, it could not do
her any harm, and besides, any way, he himself would
be the better of it.

" Then he went on quite fast, but this did not
prevent his hearing behind him ' tic, tac ; tic, tac ;'
like a piece of iron striking on stones. He therefore
got out, but found everything in its place. He thought
it was the tire of his wheel, or some of the iron of his
cabriolet which had become unnailed. He whipped
his horse to make up for lost time, but he soon again
heard tlie * tic, tac ; tic, tac,' on the stones ; still, as
he was a brave man, he did not pay much attention
to it.

" Arrived at the top of St. Michael's hill, which we
passed just now, he felt very sleepy. After all, said
my defunct father to himself, a man is not a dog ! we
will take a nap, Doth my horse and me will be the
better for it. So he unharnessed his horse, and tying

A NIGHT WITH THE OOBLUfS.

its forelegs with the reins, said to it : there, pet, there
is good grass, and you can hear the brook flow, good
night.

"-As my defunct father was going to get into his
cabriolet to shelter himself from tlie dew, he took a
notion to find out the hour, so he looked at the three
kings to the south, and the wain to the north, and
concluded it must be midnight, [t is the hour wiien
all honest people should be in bed.

" All at once, it appeared to himtliatthe Isle of Or-
leans was all on fire. He jumped over the ditch and
climbing on a fence, looked and looked with all his
eyes. At last he saw that the flames were running
along the shore, as if all the feux-follets in Canada,
the cursed goblins, had come there by appointment
to hold their Sabbath. By dint of looking steadily,
his sight which had been coafused, became quite clear,
and he saw a strange sight. There were a number of
things shaped like men, but of some extraordinary
species, for they had heads as big as a half-bushel
measure, dresscdup in sugar-loaf caps ayardlong; then
they had arms, legs, feet, and hands armed with claws,
but no body worth speaking of • in fad, their stride was
up to their ears. They had hardly any flesh, just all
bones like skeletons. All these handsome fellows
had their upper lip cloven like a hare's, and there
stuck out a rhinosferos tooth a good foot long, like
what we see, Mr. Archy, in your book of supernatural
history. Their nose was hardly worth speaking of ;
it was neither more nor less than a long, pig-like
snout, which they worked round and round a1 their
will, sometimes to the right and sometimes to the left
of the big tooth. I suppose it was to whet it. I was
nearly forgetting a long tail, twice as long as a cow's,
which hung down their back, and I think they used
it to whisk off* the mosquitos.

The funniest thing was that they had but three eyes

between every two phantoms. Those who had only

one eye in the middle of their forehead, like the

Cyroclops (Cyclops) which your uncle the chevalier, M.

THE CANADIANS OK OLD.

Jules, who is a learned man, read about lo us in a big
book all latin, like a priest's breviary, which he called
his Vigil (Virgil) ; well, those who had but one eye,
held tight on to two acolytes, who, the cursed things,
had all their eyes. From all these eyes there came
out flames of fire which lighted the Isle of Orleans
like day. These last seemed to have great conside-
ration for their neighbors, who were, as one might
say, one-eyed ; they saluted them by approaching
them and flourishing their arms and legs about like
Christians dancing the minuet. The eyes of my
defunct father were starting out of his head. It was
much worst when they liegan to skip and dance
about, without, however, moving from their places,
and to sing in a voice as gruft as that of a choking ox,
the following song : —

Come, be gay, gossip goblin !
Come, be gay, my neighbor dear.
Come, be say ! gossip pokcnose—
Gossip, little idiot, foolish frog.
Of those Christians, of those Christians.
We will make a glorious feast.

* Oh, the miserable carnivals' (cannibals), said my de-
funct father, ' only see : an honest fellow cannot be a
moment sure of his own property. Not content with
stealing my very best song, which I always keep for
the last at weddings and junketings, see how they
have altered it ! it can hardly be recognized. It is on
Christians instead of good wine that they want to
feast, the wretches ! ' And then after that, the bogies
went on with their infernal song, and looking straight
at my defunct father and pointing at him with their
great rhinoferoce teeth.

Ah ! come hither gossip Fran<jois ;
Ah ! come hither, gossip piggy ;
Come, make haste, gossip sausage —
Come, hither, gossip pumpkin pie.
Of the Frenchman, of the i' rencliman.
We will make a salting-tub.*

* Though the reader may not be very susceptible to the charms of poetry
yet he will hardly appreciate the sonj? of Jose's defunct father, which the
goblins of the Isle of Orleans have parodied : the author must lay the res-
ponsibility on them.

A NIGHT WITH THE GOBLINS.

' All I can toll you, my darlings,' cried out my defunct
father, ' is, that if you eat no other salt pork than what
I shall carry for you, you will not need to skim your
soup.'

" However, the bogies seemed in the meantime to
be waiting for something, and as they often turned
their heads round to look behind, my defunct father
looked also. What did he perceive on the hill ! A
great devil shaped like the others, but as tall as St.
Michael's steeple, which we passed just now. Instead
of a sugar-loal cap, he wore a cocked hat, surmonted
by a spruce-tree by way of a plume of feathers. He
had but one eye, the blackguard, but it was worth a
dozen; he must have been drum-major to the regiment,
for he held in one hand a big pot, twice as large as
our sugar caldrons, which hold twenty gallons each ;
and in the other hand the clapper of a bell, which he
had stolen, I believe, (the dog of a heretic) from some
church before the ceremony of baptishig the bell had
been performed. He struck one blow on the pot, and
all the insecrable (execrable) creatures began to laugh,
to jump, and to brandish themselves about, nodding
their heads towards my defunct father, as if they were
inviting him to come and dance with them.

" ' You will have a long time to wait, my sweet
creatures,' thought my defunct father to himself, whilst
his teeth chattered in his head as if he had the ague ;
* you may have a long time to wait, my darlings,
before you catch me leaving God's earth for the land of
bogies.' All at once the giant devil struck up an
infernal song and dance tune, accompanying himself
on the pot, which he kept thumping harder and faster,
whilst all the other devils started off like lightning,
so that they were not a minute in making a complete
tour of the island. My poor defunct father was so
bewildered by the uproar, that he could only catch
three verses of this fine song ; here they are : —

Of Orleans this is our domain,

The country where fine fellows reign.

Tour loiire,

Dance around :

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

To»r loure,
Dance nrouml.

All who come we welcome make;—
Witchen, lizard, tond, or snake.
Tour loure, tScc.

Hasten hither all who list.
Inlidel or atheist.
Tour loure, &cc.

My defunct father was in a bath of perspiration ! and
yet he was not at tlie worst of his adventures."

" But," added Jose, " I have a longing to smoke,
and with your permission, gentlemen, I will strike a
light."

" All right, Jos6," said d'Haberville ; " but for my
part, I have a different longing. By my appetite it
must be four o'clock, the time for collation at college.
We must eat a morsel."

Jules, in right of his noble race, enjoyed at all times
a voracious appetite ; and besides that day it was
quite excusable, for he had dined before noon and
taken a good deal ol exercise.

jU^iiag^'j r^ j B^ ifc t>A<,:j<,.-faU-- -y yj^jM]

LA CORRIVEAU.

CHAPTER IV.

-c$0^>-

SoANAiEi.LE. Seigneur commandeur, tnon maitre
Don Juan, vous demande ai voug voulez lui faire
I'honneur de ventr souperavec lui.

Li MfiME. — La statue m'a fait signe.

Le Festin de Pierre.

What ! the ghosts are growing ruder,

How they beard me

To night— Why, this is Goblin flail.
Spirits and spectres all in all.

Facstis.

LA CORRIVEAU.

Jose, having taken the bridle from tlie horse, and
given him what he called a mouthful of hay, made
haste to open a box which, with his usual busy
ingenuity, he had fastened on the sleigh so as to serve
at need, as either a seat or a larder. He drew out a
table-cloth in which were wrapped a couple of
chickens, a tongue, some ham, a litle flask of brandy,
and a good bottle of wine. He was withdrawing to
a distance when Jules said to him : " Come and eat
with us, my good man."

" Yes, yes," said Archy, "come and sit down near
me."

"Oh! gentlemen, I know too well the respect I
owe you."

" Come, no ceremony," said Jules ; " we are
bivouacking, all three being soldiers or very nearly so.
Will you come, you obstinate animal."

" It is with your permission, gentlemen, and to
obey you, my superior officers, that I do so."

The two young men seated themselves on the box.

twimiiHwunmiiimiii

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

which also served as table ; Jose seated himself very
comfortably on a heap of hay that was still remaining,
and all three began to eat and drink with good
appetite.

Archy, who was naturally abstemious, had soon
finished his collation. Having nothing better to do,
he began to philosophize ; Locheill, on the days he
felt gay, liked to advance paradoxes, for the pleasure
of provoking discussion.

" Do you know what interested me most in our
friend's legend .?"

" No," said Jules, attacking another leg of a
chicken, "and I shan't nmchcare for the next quarter
of an hour ; a hungry stomach has no ears."

" No matter," replied Archy, " it was these devils,
imps, goblins, whatever you like to call them, who
had only one eye. I would like that fashion to
increase among human beings, there would be fewer
hypocrites, fewer rogues, and consequently fewer
dupes. It i« certainly consoling to find that virtue is
honored even among goblins ! Did you notice the
high consideration in which the Cyclops were held
by the other bogles ? With what respect they saluted
them befon^ approaching them ?"

" Oh yes !" said Jules, " but what does that prove ?'*

"That proves," replied Locheill, "that these Cyclops
deserve the consideration they meet with, they are the
very cream of the goblins. In the first place, they are
not hypocrites."

" StujfF," said Jules, " I am beginning to fear for
your brain "

" I am not such a fool as you think," replied Archy.
" Here is the proof of it. Look at a hypocrite with
some one he wants to take in ; he has always one eye
half shut on himself, whilst his other is wide open
noticing the effect which his discourse produces on
his interlocutor. If he had but one eye, he would
lose this immense advantage, and be obliged to give
up playing the hypocrite which he finds so profitable.
There would be one bad man less. Probably my

LA CORRIVEAU.

8»

goblin Cyclops has many other vices, but he is
certainly exempt from that of hypocrisy ; hence arises
the respect which is felt for him by a class of beings
sullied with all the vices that are attributed to them."

" Your health ! Scotch philosopher," said Jules,
swallowing a glass of wine : '' hang me if I
understand one word of your arguments. "

" Nevertheless, it is as clear as day," answered
Archy. " It must be that those savory, heavy,
indigestible aliments with which you clog your
stomach, make your brain dull ! If you only ate
oatmeal, like our mountaineers, you would have
clearer ideas and a more fertile imagination. "

" It appears that that oatmeal sticks in your throat,
my dear fellow," said Jules ; '• however, it is easy
enough to digest, even without the help of spiv^-is."

" Another example ;" said Archy, " a knave who
wishes to dupe an honest man in any transaction
whatever, has always one eye winking or half-shut,
whilst the other is noticing how much ground he is
gaining or losing in the bargain, the one is the eye
which thinks, the other the eye whic'.i makes obser-
vations. This is a great advantage for the knave, as
his antagonist, on the contrary, only seeing the one
clear, limpid, honest eye of his interlocutor, cannot
possibly guess what is passing under the winking eye
which is planning and calculating, whilst its neighbor
is as unmoved and impenetrable as destiny."

'' Let us now consider the reverse of the medal,"
continued Archy ; " let us suppose the same knave
under the same circumstances, but only one-eyed.
The honest man looking at him always full in the
face, would read his most secret tjioughts in his eye,
for my one-eyed friend, always distrustful, would be
obliged to keep it always open."

" Partly," said Jules, with fits of laughter, " to
prevent breaking his neck."

" Granted," said Lochoill, " but still more to read
the mind of his dupe. Besides he would be obliged
to throw an expression of candor and openness into

*^'- 'K^-Jf ,>C»»**'**N

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

his eye in order to avert suspicion, and this would
absorb part of his facuhies. Now as fery few men
can follow two difTerent trains of thought at once,
without the help of both eyes, our knave would find
he lost half his advantage. He would therefore
renounce his hateful trade and we should see one more
honest man gained to society."

" My poor Archy," said Jules, " I see wc have
changed characters, that I am the demure Scotclmian
which I have so courteously proclaimed you to be,
and that you are the hare-brained Frenchman, as you
have so often had the irreverence to call me. For do
you not see, that nothing would prevent the one-eyed
race of men which, like another Prometheus, yon ^\ ish
to substitute for our present race, who will be truly
grateful to you," continued Jules, laughing heartily.

" Nothing, I say, will prevent them from sometimes
winking, since it is an infallible receipt for making
dupes, and from sometimes keeping their eye open,
to make observations."

" Oh Frenchmen ! light-minded Frenchmen —
blind Frenchmen ! It is no wonder that in politics the
English make game of you behind your back !"

" It seems to me," answered Jules, *' that the
Scotch must hnow something about English policy."

Archy's contenance at once assumed a sad expres-
sion, and a pallid hue spread itself over his noble
features ; is was a sensitive chord that his friend had
touched on. Jules soon perceived it and said :

" Forgive me if I have caused you pain ; I know
that this subject calls up painful remembrances to
you. I spoke without thinking, as I always do. One

often, without

wishing

it, wounds those one loves

best by some repartee one thinks witty. But come,
old fellow, go on talking nonsense, it will be more
amusing for both of us."

((

The

cloud has passed away," said Locheill,
an effort to repress his feelings, " and I
resume my argument. You must see that my rascal
could not shut his eye for a single moment without

making

LA CORRIVEAU.

running the risk of letting his prey escape. Do you
remember that pretty squirrel which we saved last
year from the enormous adder which was curled up
at the foot of the maple tree in your father's park, at
St. Jean-Port- Jo! i ? How constantly she kept her
fiery eyes fixed on the poor little animal in order to
fascinate it. How the nimble little creature hopped
from branch to branch, uttering a plaintive cry, without
being able to turn her eyes away from those of the
horrible reptile for a minute ! Had the adder ceased
gazing, the squirrel would have been saved. Do
you remember how pleased the poor creature was at
the death of its terrible enemy ? Well, let my rascal
shut his eye, and his prey would escape him."

" Do you know," said Jules, " that you are a
terrible logician, and bid fair to eclipse some day,
even if that day has not already come, such twaddlers
as Socrates, Zenon, Montaigne, and other logicians
of the same stamp.' The only fear is that the logic
may carry the logician up to the moon."

" You think you may laugh ! " said Archy.
" Well ! let only one pedant., with his pen behind his
ear, take the trouble of seriously refuting my theory,
and you will see a hundred scribblers rush to the
rescue, who will take part for and against, till oceans
of ink flow. Oceans of blood have often flowed on
account of arguments about as sensible as mine, and
that is how many a great man's reputation has been
made !"

" In the meantime," answered Jules " your theory
may serve as a pendant to the tale that Sancho related
to put Don Quixote to sleep. As for me, I very much
prefer our friend Jose's legend."

" You shew your good taste ! " answered the latter,
who had taken a nap during the scientific discussion.

" Let us hear it," said Archy.

" Conticu4re omnes, intentique ora tenebant."

" ConticuSre ! incorrigible pedant ! " exclaimed
d'Haberville.

" It is not the conte (tale) of a cure " (curate) ans-

w i ms«m \ tmnm\mm

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

" but it is as
pulpit, for

true as when he
my defunct father

wered Jose quickly,
speaks to us from the
never told lies."

" We believe you, my dear Jose," said Locheill, but
please go on with your charming story."

" Well, then," said Jose, " brave as my defunct
father was, he still could not help feeling so decidedly
frightened, that the perspiration trickled from the end
of his nose, in a stream as thick as an oat-straw.
There he was, the poor dear man, his eyes starting
out of his head, and not daring to budge an inch. He
fancied, indeed, that he heard behind him the same
tic, tac ; tic, tac ; which he had before heard several
times on tiie road, but he had too much going on
before him, to be able to trouble himself about what
was passing behind him. All at once just when he
least expected it, he felt two great hands as lean as a
bear's paws, laying hold of his shoulders. He turned
round quite scared, and found himself face to face with
La Corriveau, who was scrambling up on to him (a).
She had slipped her hands through the bars of her
iron cage, and was trying to climb on to his back,
but the cage being heavy, at each spring that she took,
she fell back to the ground under a clanging sound,
but still without letting go of my poor defunct father's
shoulder, who bent under the burden. If he had not
held tight on to the fence with both his hands, he
would have been crushed with the weight. My poor
defunct father was so struck with horror, that you
might have heard the perspiration drop from his face
on to the fence like duckshot !

" ' My dear Francois,' said La Corriveau, ' do me
the pleasure of conducting me to dance with my
friends on the Isle of Orleans.' ' Ah, you limb of the
old boy,' exclaimed my father — this was the only
oath the saintly man ever made use of, and that only
on great occasions."

" Oh the devil ! " said Jules, " it seems to me the
occasion was pretty favorable ! As for me, I should
have sworn like a Pagan."

LA CORRIVEAU.

4»

" And I," said Arcliy, " like an Englishman."

" I thought I had expressed myself as strongly as
possible," replied d'Haberville.

"You are wrong there, my dear Jules, I must
acknowledge that the Pagans acquitted themselves
tolerably well ; but oh ! the English ! the English !
Le Roux, who, after leaving College, read all the bad
books he came across, told us, you may remember,
that that blackguard Voltaire, as my Jesuit uncle used
to call him, had written in a work which treats of
events that happened in France, during the reign
of Charles the Seventh when that Prince drove out
the island-masters from the greater part of his
kingdom ; Le Roux told us that Voltaire said ; " Every
Englishman swears," Well, these events happened in
1445, there have elapsed, let us say, three hundred
years since that memorable epoch, and just think for
yourself what formidable oaths, a nation of so morose
a disposition, must have invented in the course of
three centuries."

" I knock under," said Jules, " but do go on Jos6. "

" * You limb of the old boy,' said my defunct father;
' is it by way of thanking me for my deprefundi and
other good prayers that you want me to take you
across to the witches' sabbath ? I was thinking you
must be having at least three or four thousand years
of purgatory for your pranks. You had only killed
two husbands ; that was a trifle ! so that it pained me
to think of it, and I who have always a tender heart
for the creature^ (woman) said to myself ; I must give
her a helping hand. And all the thanks I get is, that
you want to jump on my shoulders, and drag me to
hell like a heretic."

" * My dear Francois,' said La Corriveau, 'do please
take me to dance with my dear friends,' and she
knocked her head against my defunct father's, till his
skull rattled like a bladder full of flint-stones.'

" * That is a fine idea of yours,' said my defunct
father, * you limb of Judas Iscariot, that I am going
to make a beast of burden of myself, to carry you

HgjtJtfJijWtgWftiKi

3ia2

4ra

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

your

across to dance at the witches' sabbath with
beloved cronies.'

" ' My dear Francois,' answered the witch, * it is
impossible for me to cro.^s the St. Lawrence without
the help of a Christian, for the river is blessed.'

" * Get across as you can, you confounded gallows'
bird,' said my defunct father to her ; ' every one must
look after their own affairs. Oh, yes ! indeed, a fine
idea that I am to carry you across, to dance with your
crew ; but you may just travel as you have been doing
already, though hoWy I can't make out, and drag after
you that fine cage, which must have rooted up all
the stones and pebbles on the high road, which will
make a fine row some ofthesedayb when the Overseer
comes, and sees the wretched state of the roads ! Of
course it will be the poor habitant who will hare to
suffer for your pranks, by paying a fine for not having
kept the road in proper order.'

" Just then the drum-major left off' thumping time
on his big pot. All the goblins left off dancing and ut-
tered three cries, or rather three yells, like those given
by the Indians when they perform their ' war dance,'
that terribL dance and song with which they prelude
their martial expeditions. The isle trembled to its
very foundations. The wolves, the bears, all the wild
beasts and the goblins of the northern mountains took
up the cry, and the echoes repeated it till it died away
in the forests, on the shores of the Saguenay."

" My poor defunct father thought that, at the very
least, it was the end of the world and the day of judg-
ment. The giant with the spruce-plume struck three
loud blows, and the deepest silence succeeded to the
infernal din. He raised his arm towards my defunct
father, and called out to him in a voice of thunder,
* will you make haste, you idle dog, will you make
haste, you dog of a Christian, and bring our friend
across ? We have only fourteen thousand four hun-
dred times more to dance round the island, before
cock-crow ; would you have her lose the best of the
fund."

LA CORRTVEAU.

* Go lo the devil, whence you came, you and yours l*"
exclaimed my defunct lather, at last losing all pa-
tience.

* Come, my dear Francois,' said La Corriveau, ' be
more polite ! you are carrying on at a mere trifle, and
yet you see time presses ; come, my son, just one
attempt.'

* No, no, you hag !' said my defunct father ; ' I wish
you had still that fine necklace which the hangman put
about your neck two years ago ; you would not then
be quite so ready with your tongue.'

During this dialogue the gobblins on the island had
recommenced their chorus :

Dance around.
Toure-loure.

' My dear Francois,' said the witch, ' if you refuse
to take me in flesh and blood, [ will strangle you, and
fly across to the sabbath mounted on your soul.'

So saying, she seized him by the throat, and strangled
him.

" What !" exclaimed the young men, " she strangled
your poor defunct father ? "

" When I say strangled, it was hardly any belter
for the poor dear man," replied Jose, " for he quite
lost his consciousness. When he came to himself, he
heard a little bird calling out, who are you ? (que-tu)."*

' Ah, well,' said my defunct father, 'I cannot be in
hell, since I hear one of God's birds. So first he opened
one eye, and then the other, and saw it was broad
daylight ; the sun was shining in his face ; the little
bird perched on a neighboring tree still kept on calling,
who are you ?

* The author has to acknowletlge his ignorance in ornithology. Our
excellent ornithologi.-t, M. Lemoine, will perhaps come to our assistance
in rightly classifying the little bird whose cry sounds like the two syllables,
gue-tu (qjti-es-tu i who are you) . This recalls the anecdote ol an old man
who was " non compos mentis," and who lived about sixty years ago.
Thinking the question addressed to himself when he heard these denizens
of the woods, he did not fail to answer, at first very politely, " Pere
Chamberland, my little children," but at length losing patience, " Pere
Chamberland, you little pests."

immmia m

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

' My dear child,' said my defunct father, ' it is
rather hard for me to answer that question, for I really
do not know very well myself this morning who I am ;
yesterday I was a good respectable man w^ho feared
God, but I have had no many adventures through the
night, that I can hardly be sure it is myself, FranQois
Dube, that is here present in the ^esh,' and then the
dear man began to sing :

Dance around.
Toure-loure.

He was still half bewitched. However, at last he
found that he was lying at full length in a ditch, where,
fortunately, there was more mud than water, for other-
wise my poor defunct father, who died like a saint,
surrounded by all his relations and friends, and fur-
nished with all the sacraments of the Church, without
missing one, would have died without confession,
like a brute beast, in the midst of the woods, with
all respect to him and to you, young gentlemen.
When he had dragged himself out of the ditch, in
which he was squeezed like a vice, the first thing he
saw was his flask on the edge of the ditch, which
brought back his courage a little. He stretched out
his hand to take a drink of it, but not a bit of it ! — it
was empty ! The witch had drunk it all !

" My dear Jose," said Locheill, " I am not particu-
larly cowardly, but if such an adventure had happened
to me, I should never have travelled alone agair. at
night."

" Nor I either," put in d'Haberville.

" To tell you the truth, gentlemen, since you un-
derstand so well, I will tell you in confidence, that
my defunct father, who, before this adventure, would
have gone inio a graveyard at midnight, was never so
courageous afterwards, for he did not dare go alone
into the stable to do his work after sunset."

" He was very right," said Jules, " but finish your
story."

" It is done already," answered Jose. " My de-

LA CORRIVEAU.

funct father put to the horse, which appeared to have
had no knowledge of anything, the poor beast, and
got home as quick as he could. It was only a fort-
night afterwards that he related his adventure to us."

" What do you say now, you unbelieving egotist,
who would not allow Canada the luxury of witches ?"
said d'Haberville.

" I say," answered Archy, " that our Scotch witches
are fools compared to your New France ones, and if
I should ever return to my Scotch mountains, I will
have some put in bottles, as LeSage did with his
* di'^ble boiteux ' Asmodeus.

" Well ! well !" said Jose, " I should not pity them,
the insecrable blackguards ! but where will you find
bottles big enough, that is the worst of it."

CHAPTER V.

On cntendit du cote de la mer des bruits epouvan-
tables comme si Aea torrents d'eau, meles a des
tonnerres, eussent roules du haut des montagnes ;
tout le monde s'ecria : voila I'ouragan !

Bebnakdin de Saint-Piekre.

Though aged, he was so iron of limb
Few of your youths could cope with him.

Byeon.

Que j'aille a son secours, s'ecria-t-il, ou que je
meure ?

Berxardin de Saint-Pierre.

Les vents et les vagues sont toujours du cote du
plus habile nageur.

Gibbon.

THE BREAKING UP OF THE ICE.

The travellers went merrily on their way till the day-
light fading, they proceeded for a time by the light of
the stars. Soon, however, the moon rose, throwing
her beams far on the calm beauty of the majestic St.

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

Lawrence. At this sight, Jules could not refrain from
giving expression to a poetical ebullition, and ex-
claimed :

" I feel myself inspired, not by the waters of Hip-
/)ocrcne (of which, indeed, I have never drank, nor
have I any wish to drink) but by the juice of Bacchus,
which is far more agreeable than all the fountains in
the world, even than the limpid wave of Parnassus.
All hail to Ihco, then, oh beautiful moon ! all hail to
thee, thou silvery lamp, that now lightest the steps of
two mortals who are as free as the denizens of our
boundless forests, two mortals but recently escaped
from the trammels of college life ! How often, oh
moon, at the sight of thy pale rays, penetrating to my
solitary couch : how often, oh moon, have I not longed
to break my chains asunder, and join the joyful throngs
which were hastening to balls and parties, at the very
moment that cruel and barbarous regulations were
condemninof me to the slumber, which I was doins:
my utmost to banish ! Ah ! how many times, oh moon,
have I not wished to mount on thy disk, and thus
even at the risk of breaking my neck, travel over the
regions which thou lightest in thy majestic career,
even if I had been obliged to pay'a visit to another
hemisphere. Ah, how many times "

" Ah, how many limes hast thou talk nonsense in
thy life," said Archy ; " for folly is contagious. Listen
to a true poet, and let your pride be humbled : Oh,
moon ! thou triple essence that the poets formerly
hailed as Diana the huntress, how must thou not delight
to leave the gloomy domain of Pluto, as well as the
forests, where preceded by thy barking pack, thou
makest row enough to stun all the goblins in Canada;
dost thou not delight, oh moon ! to sail majestically
like a peaceful queen, through the ethereal regions of
the sky, in the stillness of a lovely night. Have pity,
I pray thee, on thy own work ; give back his senses
to a poor afflicted mortal, my dearest friend, who — "

" Oh, Phoebe ! patroness of madmen !" interrupted

THE BREAKING UP OF THE ICE.

Jules, " I address thee no prayer for my friend ; thou
art innocent of his infirmity ; the harm was done "

" Now then, you gentlemen," said Jose, " when
you have finished gossiping with the lady moon, who
I did not know one could talk such a lot to, would
you be so good as to listen a little to the noise that ia
going on at the village of St. Thomas."

All listened attentively ; the church-bell was indeed
ringing loud.

" It is the An^elus" said Jules d'Haberville.

" Of course !" replied Jose, " the Angehia at half-
past eight o'clock in the evening !"

*' Then it must be fire," said Archy.

" Still one cannot see any flames," replied Jose ;
" but any way, let us make haste : something uncom-
mon must be going on down there."

By means of urging on the horse full speed, they
entered the village of St. Thomas in about half ap.
hour. The deepest silence reigned there ; the place
appeared deserted, except by several dogs that were
shut up in some of the houses, and were barking
furiously. Except for the noise of these curs, one
might have imagined one-self transported to the town
spoken of in the "Arabian Nights," where all the in-
habitants were turned into marble.

Our travellers were about to enter the church, whose
bell was still ringing, when they perceived a light,
and distinctly heard noises in the direction of the falls,
near ihe seignorial manor. To hasten thither was the
work of a few minutes only. The pen of a Cooper, or
a Chateaubriand, could alone do justice to the sight
which they beheld on the banks of the South River.

Captain Marcheterre, an old sea captain of athletic
form, still hale and hearty in spite of his age, had
been returning home to the village towards dusk,
when he heard a sound from the riw^r, '^ke some
heavy body falling into the water ; and i ' .aodiately
afterwards, the groans, and piteous cries oi a man
who was calling for help.

They came from a foolhardy habitant, Dumais by
4

miiama

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

name, who, thinking the ice which he had passed the
evening before (and even then found somewhat bad)
was still safe, iiad again ventured on it witli a horse
and sleigh, a few hundred yards to the south-east of
the village. The ice had given way so suddenly,
that the horse and 'sleigh had disappeared completely
under the water. The unfortunate Dumais, who was
a man of unusual agility, had just time to spring from
the sleigh on to stronger ice ; but the tremendous leap
which he took to escape from inevitable death, and also
the weight of his body, vas fatal to him. Having
entangled his foot in a crack of the ice, he had the mis-
fortune of breaking his leg, which snai)ped like a
glass tube just above the ancle.

Marcheterre, knowing the dangerous state of the
ice, which was cracked in many places, called out to
him not to stir, even if he haa the strength U 'o so,
and that he would soon come back with he He
ran immediately to the sexton, begging hini lo ring
an alarm-bell, whilst he himself summoned his nearest
neighbors.

Soon all was liurry and confusion. Men were run-
ning to and fro, without any order, or definite object ;

women and children, were crying and lamenting

dogs were barking and howling, on every note of the
canine gamut ; so that the captain, whose experience
pointed him out as the fittest person to direct the means
of rescue, had much difficulty in making himself
heard.

In the 'meantime, under Marcheterre's directions,
some ran for cables, ropes, planks, and piecs of tim-
ber ; whilst others robbed the fences and wood piles,
of cedar and birch-bark to make torches of. The
scene became more and more animated, and by the
light of fifty torches, throwing afar their bright and
sparkling refulgence, the crowd spread itself along the
shore of the river as far as the spot indicated by the
old captain.

Dumais, who had patiently enough awaited the
arrival of help, called out to them as soon as he was

THE BREAKING TTp OF THE ICE.

able to rtiako himself heard, that they must make
haste, as he heard dull sounds whieh seemed to come
IVom towards the mouth of the river.

" There is not a moment to lose, my friends," said
the old captain, " for everything looks as if the ice
would soon break up."

Men less experienced thnn he was, wanted at once
to push the materials they had brought on to the ice,
without fastening them together ; but to this, Marehe-
terre would not consent, as the river was full of cracks,
and, besides, the piece of ice on which Dumais was
seated, was on the one side separated by the fragments
which the horse had broken ofl' in its struggle before
disappearing, and on the other by a large pool of
water which prevented all approach to it. Marche-
terre knowing that the bic aking up of the ice was not
only inevitable, but also that it threatened them every
moment, did not wish to exposed the lives of so many
people, without taking every precaution that his long
experience dictated to him.

Some therefore began to hammer together the planks
and pieces of timber, \vith their axes ; others bound
them fast together ; others again, with the captain at
their head, hauled them on to the ico, whilst the rest
thrust them from the shore. This impromptu bridge
hardly reached fifty feet from the bank, when the old
sailor called out to them : " Now boys, let the quickest
and strongest of you follow me at the distanct? of ten
feet apart, and then let all push the bridge forward."

Marcheterre was closely followed by his son, a
young man in the vigor of his age, who, knowing his
father's rashness, held himself in readiness to give
him help in case of need ; for from under the water
were heard lugubrious sounds, the sinister harbingers
of an inundation. Still, every one remained at their
post, and all was going on well, those who got out of
their depth, hung on to the raft, and when once more
upon the solid
energy. A few minutes
have been saved.
4*

ice, set to work again with fresh
more and Dumais would

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

The two Marclielerres, tlie fatlier in front, had
arrived within a hundred feet of tlie unhappy victim
of his own imprudence, when a subterraneous rum-
bling, similar to the dull sound which precedes a
strong shock of earthquake, seemed to run along
the whole extent of the South River, from its mouth,
to the fall by which it discharges itself into the St.
Lawrence. To this rumbling there immediately suc-
ceeded an explosion like a distant clap of thunder, or
the discharge of a piece of artillery of the largest
calibre. There arose a terrible cry: "The ice is
breaking up ! run ! save yourselves ! " from the spec-
tators on the shore. In fact, the ice was giving way
in every direction under the pressure of the water,
which rushing onwards in torrents, already overflowed
both banks. Then ensued a terriffic scene of com-
motion ; large pieces of ice driven against one another
with an awful noise, heaped themselves up, till after
reaching a certain height, they floated on the surface
or disappeared under the waters. The planks and
timber were tossed about like the playthings of an
ocean stirred by the tempest. The cables and ropes
threatened to break every moment.

The spectators, struck with fear at the sight of
their relations and friends exposed to certain death,
kept continually calling from the shore : " run ! run :
save yourselves !" It was, in fact, tempting Provi-
dence to continue any longer the rash, and unequal
combat, with the terrible element against whose fury
they had to contend.

Marcheterre, however, whom this overpowering
spectacle seemed to excite rather than to daunt, kept
calling out : " Forward boys, forward, for God's sake."

This old sea-dog, who had been always cool and
collected on the deck of his vessel, when during a
hurricane, he gave orders for a manoeuvre on which
the safety of his ship depended, was still the same in
the face of a danger which struck with horror, even
the most intrepid men. He perceived, on looking
back, that with the exception of his son and Joncas,

iWWWi8iWllfr,fi

THE BREAKING UP OP THE ICE.

one of his sailorS, all were seeking safety in precipi-
tate flight." "Ah, cowards ! " he exclaimed ; " pack
of cowards !"

These exclamations were interrupted by his son,
who, seeing him about to rush to inevitable death,
darted on him, and seizing him in his arms, threw
him down on a plank, where he kept him for some
moments in spite of the formidable grasp of the old
man. Then ensued a terrible struggle between the
father and son ! It was filial love opposed to that
sublime impulse, the love of humanity !

The old man, by a violent effort, managed to get
himself off the only safe place that remained, and he
and his son rolled over on to the ice, where the obsti-
nate strugle continued. It was at this critical moment
for life or death that Joncas, springing from plank to
plank, from timber to timber, came to help the young
man in getting his father on to the floatirigbridge again.
The spectators, who, from the shore, lost nothing of
this heartrending scene, made haste in spite of the
water, which already overran the banks of the river, to
haul in the cables ; and the efforts of a hundred strong
arnas were successful in saving three generous
noble-hearted men from impending death. In fact,
they were hardly in a place of safety, before the im-
mense sheet of ice, which had till then remained
stationary in spite of the furious attacks of the enemy
which assailed it from all quarters, began, with a
groaning sound, to move majestically downwards
towa ds the falls, in order from there to disperse itself
in the large river.

All eyes were fixed on Dumais. He was naturally
a brave man : of this he had given proof on many
occasions against the enemies of h's country : he had
even faced death, and that a frightful and cruel death,
when tied to a stake and about to be burnt alive by
the Iroquois Indians, he was, rescued by his friends.
He remained seated in the same spot, on his preca-
rious resting place, but calm and immoveable as the
statue of death, only that he made some signs towards

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

the shore, that they understood to bc'his last adieu to
his friends. Then, with his arms sometimes folded,
sometimes raised towards heaven, he appeared to be
perfectly detached from all wordly ties, and ready to
cross the fearful gulf which separates time from eter-
nity.

Once on the bank of the river, the captain showed
no sign of resentment ; on the contrary, resuming his
usual sang f void ^ lie issued his orders with calmness
and precision.

" Let us follow the ice down," said he, " carrying
with us the means of escape."

" But what good will it be," exclaimed those who
appeared the most experienced ; " the poor unhappy
man is irretrievably lost."

" There is still one chance left, just one little chance
of safety for him," said the old sailor, listening atten-
tively to a certain noisi^ which he heard far away to
the south ; " and we must be prepared for it. The
ice may break up any moment on the St. Nicholas *
branch of the river, which, as you know, runs very
rapidly. This sudden rush may perhaps drive back
the ice on to our coast : besides, we shall not then
have to blame ourselves for any thing that happens."

What Capt. Marcheterre predicted, came to pass.
A report like a clap of thunder was heard, and the
waters from the St. Nicolas, rushing furiously from
the bod of that river, rushed against the enormous
mass of ice which, not having as yet met with any
obstacle, was pursuing its triumphant course. For a
moment they thought that this sudden, rapid check,
and unexpected pressure, would drive a large portion
of the ice to the north, as the captain had hoped.
There was even a momentary change which sent it
across towards the spectators, but this state of things,
apparently so favorable to the deliverance of Dumais,
lasted but a short time. The bed of the river being
too narrow to allow free passage to the torrent, it

* A river which runs into the South River, at right angles with it, near
the village.

THE BREAKING UP OF THE ICE.

came to a stand-still, and the ice, heaping itself up,
formed an embankment of prodigious height. The
large body of water which for a time had been ar-
rested by the impassable barrier of ice, now spread
itself far over both shores of the river, and inundated
even the greater part of the village. This unexpected
inundation forced the spectators to seek a place of
refuge on the steep heights of the river, and thus
extmguished the last hope of helping the unfortumate
Dumais.

It V. ttS a long and obstinate struggle between the
powerful element, and the obstacle which impeded its
course ; but at length this immense lake, which was
continually being fed by the principal river and its
affluents, rose to the level of the bank of ice whose
foundations it undermined at the same time. Under
the pressure of this enormous weight, the embankment
gave way with a crash that shook both shores. As the
South River suddenly widens below the St. Nicholas,
this compact mass of ice, now freed from all hin-
drance, moved down as swiftly as an arow, hurrying
headlong towards the falls that it had to pass over
before falling into the basin of the St. Lawrence.
Dumais had accepted his death with resignation ;
calm amidst the turmoil, his eyes raised to heaven
and his hands folded on his breast, he appeared to be
absorbed in deep meditation, as if he had already
broken every tie that bound him to the material
world.

The spectators rushed in crowds to the falls, to see
the end of this wonderful drama. A great number
of people on the other side of the river, hearing the
alaim bell, had run to the shore, and had also stripped
their fences of cedar-bark, in order to make torches.
All these lights crossing one another, shed a vivid
brightness on the sad scene. At a little distance was
seen the seignorial manor, a long and imposing
edifice to the south-east of the river, standing on the
highest point of a promontory which overlooked the
basin and ran parallel with the cataract. About

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

two hundred feet from the manor rose the roof of a
saw-mill, whose causeway adjoined the fall itself.
Two hundred feet from the mill, on the summit of the
falls, there were visible the remains of an islet on
which, from time immemorial, the passage of the ice
each spring had done its work of destruction (o).
Fallen from its primitive grandeur, (for probably, of
old, there had been a penisula on the continent, of
which this island had formed the extremity), it now
only presented a surface of about a dozen square feet.

Of all the trees that had formerly given it so pic-
turesque an air, there now only remained one venerable
cedar. This veteran, which for so many years had
braved the fury of the winds and attacks of the ice
from the South River, had ended by at last half
succumbing in the formidable struggle. Broken high
up, the top of the tree swung mournfully over the
abyss, towards which the trunk also leaned, threaten-
ing to disappear completely into it, and thus deprive
the islet of its only ornament. Several hundred feet
separated this islet from a saw-mill situated to the
north-east of the cataraci.

Through an irregularity in the ground, this prodigious
mass of ice, which, attracted by the fall, descended
the river with the speed of an arrow, jammed itself
almost all between the islet and the mill, of which it
demolished the dam in a few seconds ; then heaping
itself up at the foot of the heights, as high as the top
of the mill, it finished by demolishing the mill itself.
The ice having taken this direction, the channel
between the islet and the saw-mill found itself com-
paratively unencumbered.

The crowd were still running along the shore,
watching with anxiety, mixed with horror, the man
whom a miracle alone could save from a horrible and
premature death. In fact, when he had arrived at
about thirty feet from the islet, the piece of ice on
which was Dumais, was evidently bearing him away
from the only chance of escape that Providence
seemed to offer him, when an iceberg that was des-

joKW^TOflP^

THE BREAKING UP OF THE ICE.

cending with a rapidity which its enormous bulk
increased, coming in contact with one of its corners,
gave it a contrary direction. Thus hurled forward
with a fresh impetus, it cleared that part of the islet
which was already encroached on by the water, and
attacked the old cedar, which was the only obstacle it
met with on the summit of the cataract. The tree,
shaken by the unforeseen collision, quivered in every
limb ; its top, which was already broken, separated
itself from the trunk and disappeared in waves of
foam. Relieved from this weight, the old tree suddenly
straightened itself, and like a still formidable wrestler,
prepared to sustain a fresh combat with the old
enemies it had so often triumphed over.

In the meantime, Dumais, jerked forward by the
unexpected collision, laid hold of the trunk of the old
cedar, which he clasped in his arms with a convul-
sive embrace ; and raising himself on one leg, the only
support that remained to him, he clung to it with the
tenacity of a dying man, whilst the piece of ice on
which his only foot rested, whirled about by the water
which was increasing every moment, and attracted
by two contrary currents, oscillated from right to left,
threatening every moment to deprive him of even that
frail support.

Nothing was wanting to complete this imposing
scene of horror. The flickering torches, on both shores,
threw a sinister light on the ghostly features, and
fixed and straining eyes of this unhappy victim, tims
suspended on the verge of death. Dumais was cer-
tainly a brave man ! He had already, on difterent
occasions, given proofs of his heroic courage, but in
this exceptional and unheard of position, he may be
pardoned if his presence of mine failed him.

In the meantime, Marcheterre and his friends had
Still some hopes of saving him.

On the shore near the saw-mill they perceived two
large square pieces of wood. With these they has-
tened to a rock which advanced into the river about
two hundred feet above the fall. By tying each of

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

these to a rope, and laimcliing them one after another,
they hoped the stream might carry them on to the
islet ! Alas ! vain hope ! useless effort ! The impetus
they gave them was not sufficient, and the pieces of
wood being besides encumbered with the wcigiit of
the rope, always drifted between the shore and the
island.

It would seem impossible to add one darker shade
to the appalling sublimity of this scene, or to increase
the sorrowful emotion of the lookers-un, who were
struck with horror at the sight of a fellow-being, who,
any moment, might disappear in the yawning gulf of
the cataract.

Nevertheless a scene .equally sublime and imposing
was passing on the shore ! It was religion reassuring
the christian, who was preparing to appear before
the tribunal of his Supreme Judge ! It was religion
offering its consolations to the christian who was
about to cross the terrible gulf which divides life from
death !

The old cure of the parish, whose sacred office
had, just before the accident, called him to the bedside
of a sick man, had run to the scene of distress. He
was an old man of ninety, of immense stature ; the
weight of years had not bent the form of this modern
Nestor, who had baptised and married all his pa-
rishioners, and buried three generations of them. His
long hair, white as snow, stirred by the night-breeze,
gave him the inspired look of a prophet. He stood
there, on the shore, his two hands stretched out towards
the unhappy Dumais. He loved him ; it was he who
had baptised him, it was he who had made him
perform that touching act of Catholic worship which
suddenly changes the nature of the child and makes
it partake of the nature af angels. He loved Dumais
also, because he had married him to a young orplan
that he himself had tenderly reared, and who was
made happy by this union ; he loved him, too, because
he had baptised his two children who were the joy of
his old age. There he stood, on the shore, like an

THE BREAKING UP OF THE ICE.

angel of mercy, (3xhorting him to death and giving
him not only all the consolations that his i=.acied office
dictated, but also addressing him in that touching
language which can only be inspired by a tender and
compassionate heart. He reassured him as to the
fate of his little family of whom the Seigneur de
Beaumont would take charge, when he, an old man,
on the brink of the grave, should be no more. But
seeing that the danger became more and more immi-
nent every moment, as each new shock to the tree
seemed to paralyse the strength of the unhappy
Dumais, he controlled himself by a powerful eftbrt,
and called to him in u voice that ho tried to steady,
but which was broken by liis sobs : " My son, make
an act of contrition ; I am going to give you absolution
from all your sins."

The pious pastor, having paid this tribute to natural
feeling, resumed in a firm voice that v/as heard
vibrating above the deafening noise of the cataract :
" My son, in the name of Almighfy God, in that of
Jesus-Christ his Sou, who has g'ven unto me the
power of binding and loosing on 'arth, and in the
name of the Holy Ghost, I absolve t lee from all thy
sins. Amen." And the crowd, <vee|ung and sobbing,
repeated " Amen."

Nature again tried to assert herself over the duties
of the man of God, and again sobs drowned his voice ;
but in this second struggle, the imperious duty of the
ministe c of the altar again vanquished the feelings of
the man and the asfed friend.

" On your knees, my brothers," said he, " I am
about to say the prayers of the dying." And again the
voice of the old pastor rose triumphant over that of
the tempest, as, with his hands extended towar' the
holocaust, he uttered —

" Go forth, oh Christian soul, in the name of God
the Father Almighty, who created thee ; in the name
of Jesus-Christ, the Son of the living God, who suffered
for thee ; in the name of the Holy Ghost, who was
poured out on thee ; in the name of the Angels and

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

Archangels ; in the names of the Thrones and Domi-
nations ; in the name of the Principalities and Powers ;
in the name of the Cherubin and Seraphin; in the
name of the Patriarchs and Prophets ; in the name of
the holy Apostles and Evangelists ; in the name of
the holy Martyrs and Confessors ; in the name of the
holy Monks and Hermits ; in the name of the holy
Virgins and of all the Saints of God ; may thy place
be this day in peace, and thine abode in holy Sion.
Through Christ our Lord, Amen."*

And the people, sobbing, repeated " Amen."

A dea^h-like silence had succeeded to this mourn-
ful scene, when all at once plaintive cries were heard
from behind tiie crowd which thronged the shore ;
they proceeded from a woman who, with disordered
clothes and dishevelled hair, was running towards
the scene of the accident, carrying one child in her
arms, and leading another by the hand. She was the
wife of Dumais, and some officious person had, with-
out previous preparation, announced to her the ac-
cident which had happened to her husband, whose
return she had been momentarily expecting.

Living at about half a league's distance from the
village, she had heard the tocsin, but being alone
with her children, whom she could not leave, she had
anxiously awaited her husband's arrival to be in-
formed of the cause of the alarm. The poor woman, at
the sight of the one she held dearest in the world, sus-
pended above the abyss, uttered but one cry ; but that
cry was so harrowing, that it went to the heart of the
hearers like a dagger ; and then losing all conscious-
ness, she fell an inert mass on the shore. They at
once carried her to the scignorial manor, where every
attention was lavished on her by Madame de Beau-
mont and her family.

* The auihor is not afraid to iinote this incomparable exhortation at full
length. The prayers of the Catholic liturgy are unfortunately but too
little known and appreciated. What can be more sublime than this prayer,
-which the priest addresses to the soul of the dying christian at the very
moment when, separating itself Irom its earthly habitation, it is alwut to
appear at the awful tribunal of God.

ii!^

THE BREAKING UP OF THE ICE.

As for Dumais, at the sif^htof liis wife and children,
a sort of roar like that of a tiger, ho hoarse, so un-
earthly, so indescribable was it, escaped from his
laboring breast, and struck horror to the listeners ;
then he seemed to fall into a state of unconscious-
ness which almost resembled death.

It was precisely at the moment when the old pastor
was administering the sacrament of penance, that
Jules d'Haberville, Archy Lochcill, and their com-
panion, arrived on the spot. Jules made his way
through the crowd to where the cure and his uncle
de Beaumont were standing. Archy, on the con-
trary, advanced to the edge of the shore, and folding
his arms, took in at a glance the whole scene of de-
solation, and calculated the chances of escape.

After a minute's consideration, Archy bounded
rather than ran towards the group amongst whom was
Marcheterre, and whilst throwing off his clothes, gave
his instructions. His words were brief, clear and
concise : " Captain, 1 swim like a fish, and have the
wind of an amphibious animal ; there is no danger
for me, but there is for the poor man, if I strike against
the ice when I come up to it. Stop me first at about
a dozen feet from the islet, so as to deaden the shock;
your experience will guide you afterwards. Now for
a strong but light rope, and a good sailor's knot."

He spoke, and whilst the old captain was adjusting
the cord under his arms, he was girding himself with
another cord, of which also he made a coil which he
took in his right hand ; thus pi ..pared, he darted into
the river, in which he disa peared for a moment, but
on rising to the surface, thr current drove him rapidly
towards the shore. He then made every effort possi-
ble to a skilful swimmer in order to reach the island,
but it was in vain. Marcheterre, perceiving this,
hastened along the strand and drew him towards the
shore before his strength was exhausted. Once on
land, Lochcill again run to the rock.

The spectators hardly drew their breath when they
saw Archy spring into the waves, in order to rescue

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

strength

saving,
and

Dumais, whom they had lost all hope of
Every one knew Locheill's lierculea
had frequently witnessed his aquatic exploits, during
the visits he had made with Jules to the Seigneur de
Beaumont during their college vacations. Anxiety
was therefore at its height during the terrible struggle
of the young man who in spite of efforts which ap-
peared almost superhuman was so repeatedly driven
towards the shore ; and a cry of grief escaped from
every breast at witnessing his defeat.

Jules d'Haberville had not known of this attempt at
rescue on the part of his friend, Locheill. Being of
a very sensitive nature, he had not been able, on ar-
riving at the shore, to bear the harrowing sight ; and
after one look of unutterable pity, he had cast down
his eyes, and had not since raised them. The man
suspended as it were by a thread over tlie yawning
gulf; the pious and venerable priest administering the
sacrament of penitence aloud, and beneath the vault
of heaven, the prayers for the dying addressed to God
for a man in the prime of his manhood, this sublime
invocation, telling the soul in the name of all the ce-
lestial powers, to detach itself from a body in the full
vigor of manhood ; all seemed to liim to be the delu-
sion of a frightful dream ! Jules d'Haberville ab-
sorbed in these heart-rending emotions, had noknow-
of the efforts his friend had made to save Du-
He had indeed heard the mournful cry of the
crowd after Locheill's ineffectual effort, but he had
attributed it to some new catastrophe in the scene of
desolation, from which he turned away.

It was no ordinary tie of friendship that bound him
to his brother by adoption ; it was like the love of
Dslvid and Jonatlian, according to the emphatic lan-
guage of Scripture, " passing the love of women" !
Jules did not spare his jokes at Archy's expense, (who
only laughed at them,) but he looked on him as his
own property that no one else was to touch. Woe
to whoever might offend Locheill when the impetu-
ous Jules was present.

ledge
mais.

THE BREAKING UP OF THE ICE.

Whence arose this great afibction ? There did not
appear to be any resemblance in their dispositions.
Archy was rather cold than demonstrative, whilst a
superabundance of enthusiastic feelings gushed from
Jules' heart. Nevertheless there was one very pre-
cious point of resemblance : a warm and generous
heart beat in the breast of both young men !

Jose, upon whom none of Loche ill's preparations
on his first arrival had been lost, and who knew how
violent d'Uaberville, his young master, was, had
slipped behind him, in readiness to control that fiery
and indomitable nature by physical force.

The anxiety of the spectators was at its height when
Archy made a second attempt to rescue Dumais,
whom they had thought irretrievably lost. All eyes
were turned with ever-increasing interest towards the
unhappy man, whose convulsive trembling announced
that he was losing strengtii at each successive shock
to the old cedar, and at each oscillation of the ice
which was moving under his feet. The inarticulate
voice of the old pa>tor, praying to the God of mercy,
alone interrupted the death-like silence.

Locheill's first useless ellorts had only incited lilm
the more to this work of philanthropic devotedness ;
with rare self-abnegation, he had made the sacrifice
of his life. The rope, his only chance of safety, might
easily break when burlhened with a double load, be-
sides being exposed, as it would be incessantly, to
the action of the impetuous torrent. He was also too
skilful a swimmer to be ignorant of the imminent
danger to which he exposed himself in dragging a
man to shore who was quite incapable of assisting
himself in any way. He also knew that he would
have to remain under water without breathing until
he reached the .shore.

Still retaining his self-possession, he said to Marche-
tene : " We must change our tactics ; it was holding
the coil of rope in my right hand which paralysed my
strength, when I first sprang into the river, and again
when I tried to get near the islet."

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

Hv. then enlarged the tliametef of the coil of rope
which he passed over hia right shculder, and under
his left arm, so as to leave himself free use of both his
arms. Having taken these precautions, he made a
bound like a tiger, and immediately disappearing
under the waters which bore him away as swiftly as
a horse at full speed, did not reappear till within
about twelve feet from the isl(!t, when he was checked
by the rope that Marchetcrre hauled tight, as had been
arranged between them. Thismanoiuvre was nearly
being fatal to him ; for losing his equilibrium, he
turned with his head under water, whilst the rest of
his body floated horizontally on the river. His pre-
sence of mind fortunately did not desert him for an
instant in this critical position, trusting as he did in
the experience of the old sailor. The latter suddenly
letting out two fathoms of the rope, with a slight jerk,
Locheill resorted to one of those feats of strength
known to good swimmers : and suddenly bringing his
heels against his loins, and then straightening his legs
to strike the water perpendicularly, he helped himself
by swimming alternately with his two hands, till he
at length recovered his equilibrium. Then putting
his left shoulder forwa J to preserve his breast from a
shock that would be iatal to him and Dumais, he
came up to the place of the disaster, with the speed
of lightning.

Dumais, notwithstanding iiis apparent state of torpor
and notwithstanding his immobility, had nevertheless
lost nothing of what was passing. At the sight of
the first attempt of his deliverer, a ray of hope that
had quickly vanished had shone on the depths of his
soul, and this hope had revived within him on seeing
the superhuman bound which Locheill made when
darting from the summit of the rock. The latter had
hardly reached the ice to which he clung with one
hand, whilst with the other he unwound the rope
coiled around him, when Dumais, letting go his hold
of the fostering tree, sprang so far with his only leg
that he fell into Archy's arms.

THE BREAKING UP OP THE ICE.

Tho impetuous torrent immediately rushed over the
extremity of tho ice, which, loaded with a double
weight, reared itself up like a fiery horse ; and this
heavy mass, which the waters urgecf on with irresisti-
ble force, fallinir back on the okl cedar, the veteran
tree, after a useless eflfort to resist, was swallowed up
in the abyss, dragging after it a part of the domain
where it had reigned supreme for several conluries.

There were then great acclamations from both shores
of South River ; acclamations of triumph from the
more distant spectators, and a cry of horror from those
on the bank which was the neares' lo the scene of
this drama of life and death.

In fact everything had disappeared as completely
as if the wand of a powerful enchanter had been
waved over the scene and actors, who had inspired
such fearful interest. Along the whole breadth of the
top of the cataract nothing could be seen between the
two shores but the sad spectacle of the hurrying waters,
which were precipitating themselves into the basin
with formidable noise, and the curtain of white foam
which was rising to the upptr level.

Jules d'Haberville had only recognised his friend
at the moment when he the second time sprang into
the water. Having frequently witnessed his exploits
in swimming, and knowing his prodigious strength,
he had at first shown only half stupefied astonish-
ment, but when he saw him disappear under the
water, he uttered a frenzied cry, like that of a tender
mother w^ho sees the bleeding corpse of her only child ;
a prey to his wild grief, he was about to throw him-
self into the torrent, when he felt the iron arms of Jose
thrown around him.

Entreaties, threats, exclamations of rage and morti-
fication, wild blows, bites, — all were ineffectual to
make the faithful servant relax his grasp.

" It is all very fine, my dear Mons. Jules," Jose

said, " hit me and bite me, if it relieves you, but for

God's saky keep quiet ! Your friend will soon come

up again, you know he dives like a porpoise, and that

mmmm

mmmmmmmm

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

once he is under water, there is no knowing wliere he
will re-appear ! Keep quiet, do, dear Mons. Jules ;
you would not kill poor Jose, would you, who loves
you so much and used to carry you about in his arms ?
Your father sent me to fetch you from Quebec ; I am
answerable for your soul and body, and it shall not
be my fault if I do not take you back alive. If I do
not, you see, Monsieur Jules, there will be a ball put
through the head of poor old Jose. But look, the
captain is hauling in the rope as quick as lie can, and
you may be sure Mr. Archy is at the end of it full of
life.

Marcheterre, with the help of his friends, was,
even whilst descending along tlie strand, hauling in
the rope with long and powerful pulls, as he felfr a
double weight at the end of it.

Once in safety on the shore, great efforts were ne-
cessary to disengage Locheill from the tight embrace
of Dumais, who gave no signs of life. Archy, on the
contrary, once freed from the embrace which nearly
stifled him, threw up a few mouthfuls of water,
breathed loudly and then said : " He is not dead, he
can be only fainting, for hardly a moment ago he
was alive."

They quickly carried Dumais to the seignorial ma-
n'">r, where assiduous and skilful care was taken of
him. At the end of half an hour, drops of salutary
sweat rolled from his brow, and at the end of another
'ialf hour, he opened his haggard eyes, which, after
wandering round for some time, were at last fixed on
the old cure. The latter approached his ear to the
1 ips of Dumais, and the first words he could catch
were : " My wife ! my children ! Mons. Archy !"

" Do not be uneasy, my dear Dumais," said the
old man ; " your wife has recovered her fainting fit,
but as she believes you to be dead, great caution will
be necessary in announcing your deliverance to her ;
so many conflicting emotions might kill her. As
soon as it will be prudent to do so, I will bring her
to see you ; I am going to prepare her for it. In the

THE BREAKING UP OF THE ICE.

meantime, here is Mr. Locheill, to whom, under God,
you owe your life." At the sight of his deliverer,
whom he had not before distinguished from ihe
others present, there was a reaction in the whole sys-
tem of the sick man. He put his arms round Archy,
and pressing his lips to his cheek, tears streamed
abundantly from his eyes.

" How can I repay you," said he " for what you
have done for me and for my poor wife and children ?"

" By quickly regaining your health," said Archy,
cheerfully. " Monsieur de Beaumont has sent a
messenger lull speed to Quebec for the most skilful
surgeon, and another messenger to prepare relays of
carriages along the road, so that by midday to-
morrow, at the latest, your broken leg will be so
well set, that in two months you will easily be able
to fire off a gun with your old friends the Iroquois."

When the old pastor entered the room to which they
had taken his adopted daughter, he found her half-
lying on the bed, holding her younger child in her
arms, while the other was sleeping at her feet. Pale
as death, and taking no Jieed of what Madame de
Beaumont and the other ladies of the village were
saying to her to console her, she kept on repeating :
" My husband ! my poor husband ! I shall not even
have the sad consolation of kissing the corpse of my
dear husband, the father of my children !"

On perceiving the old cure, she exclaimed, hold-
ing out her arm« to him : *' Is it you, my father,
who have given me so many proofs of affection from
my childhood, who are now coming to tell me that
all is over ! Ah ! no ; f know you too well ; you would
not bring such a messagr- to the orphan you have
brought up ! I beg of you s^peak, you, whose lips
only utter words of consolation !"

" Your husband," said the old man, " will receive
christian burial."

*' Then he his dead," exclaimed the poor woman ;
and for the first time sobs burst from her heaving breast.
It was this reaction that the old pastor was awaiting.

ppiW*«imP]J «N ^w iBiyj. ;. !.H||H)(*!J J .>^. i ,»nipi||p|jp||j|j

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

" My dear daughter," he replied, " a moment ago,
the only boon you asked was to embrace the dead
body of your husband, and God as heard your prayer.
Trast in Him, for His powerful hand which has
withdrawn him from the abyss, is able also to give
him back life."

The young woman only answered by fresh sobs.

*' He is the same God of boundless mercy," con-
tinued the pastor, " who said to Lazarus, ' come
forth.' All hope is not lost, for your husband in his

State of horrible suffering

The poor young woman, who had, up till then, lis-
tened to her old friend without quite understanding
him, seemed to wake from a horrible nightmare, and
gathering her two sleeping children in her arms, she
darted to the door.

To describe the interview between Dumais and
his family would be impossible. The imagination
of such as are gifted with feeling hearts can alone
picture it. It is easy to be pathetic when describing
terrible sufferings, or great misfortunes, but the
artist's pencil refuses to depict happiness, and only
traces faint lines on the canvas.

*^ Now, let us go and sup," said Mons. de Beau-
mont to his old and venerable friend, " we have all
great need of it, more especially this noble and
courageous young man," he added, pointing to
Archy.

" Gently, gently, my dear Sir," said the old cure.
" There is a more pressing duty for us to fulfil,
which is that of thanking God, whose protection has
been manifested in so striking a manner !"

All present knelt down, and the old cure, in a
short but touciaing prayer, returned thanks to Him
who commands the sea in its wrath, to Him who
holds in His powerful hands, the life and death of his
feeble creatures.

A SUPPER AT A CANADIAN SEIGNIOR'S.

CHAPTER VI.

-^S-i

" Half cut down, a pasty, costly made
Where quail and pigeon, lark and loriot, lay
Like fossilit of the rock, with golden yokes
Imbedded and enjellied.''

TSNNYSON.

A SUPPER AT A CANADIAN SEIGNIOR'S.

The table was laid in a low but spacious room,
whose furnitr'e without being luxurious, left nothing
to be desired as regards comfort. A thick, woollen,
checked carpet, of Canadian manufacture, covered
three quarters of the floor of the dining-room. The
bright-colored v/oollen stuff with which it was hung,
and which also covered the backs of the sofa, the
armchairs, and the mahogany chairs with feet like
quadrupeds' (much the same as those now in fashion),
was figured with gigantic birds, an attempt to classify
which would have driven the imprudent ornithologist
to despair.

An immenb' "upboard, reaching nearly to the
ceiling, displayed upon the many shelves with wnich
it was furnished, a willow-pattern dinner-service,
which seemed by its thickness to defy the awkward-
ness of servants who might let any of it fall. Above
the lower part of the cuoboard (which served for a
press, and might be cailed the ground floor of the
edifice) there projected a shell at least eighteen inches
wide, on which stood n sort of rasket, liigher than it
was wide, and who<»e c^aapartments, lined with green
baize, wax^ filled with siiTer-handled desert knives
and forks: On this shelf there was also a large silver
jug, full of water for such as wished to dilute their
wine, and some bottles of the divine juice of the
grape.

wmmmm,

wmmmmmmim

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

A pile of real china plates, two decanters of white
wine,* two tarts, a dish of eggs a ia neige^\ some
wafers, a bowl of preserves, on a little table covered
with a white cloth, near the cupboard, composed the
dessert for the supper of a Canadian seignior of those
days.

In one corner of the room, there was a cistern of
blue and white china, shaped like a barrel, with a
tap and basin, which served for the ablutions of the
family. At the opposite corner, r large cellaret filled
with square bottles containing brandy, absinthe, and
noyau, as well as raspberry, black currant, and aniseed
cordials, &c. , for daily use, completed the furniture
of the room.

The table was laid for eight people. A silver fork
and spoon wrapped in a table napkin, were placed
on the left of each plate, and a bottle of light wine on
the right. There were no k'^ives on the table during
the first courjae | ; every oiie was already provided
with this useful implement which Orientals only can
dispense with. If it were a spring knife, it was
carried in th*? pocket ; but if, on the contrary, it was
a dagger-kniie, it was suspended from the neck, in a
sheath of morocco, silk, or even of birch bark, artisti-
cally worked and embroidered by the aborigines.
The handles were generally of ivory riveted with
silver, and were even of mother-o'peari for the ladies.

* The Canadians used generally to drink only white wine at dessert.

t The mistress of the house would sometimes amuse herself and mistily
her fiiiends, in the winter-time, by soostitutinj? some real snow for this
exacUent dish; and, still lurther to heighten the illusion, she would pour
over the snow a urw spoonfuls of the yellow sauce : of course, after every
«mi:> nad laugied at the trick, the real dish of eggs d la 7iei^e would be
feMUght tbrth : the first one proving far too cold for the taste oi the guests.

Z The authcif himself has always seen the present fashion of table knives
usoi durmg the first course ; ne^terthdfss, the tradition is as has been men-
tioiMd above : the foilowmg anecdote confirms it :

An old Canadian gentleman dining at St. Louis Castle, after the con-
quest, at table made use of a splendid case knife, which he wore suspended
from his neck. His son, who was present, and who, according to his
father's expression, had adoote^l the fashion of using table-knives before the
deawrt,in order to ape the V.nglish, told the author that he thought he should
have died of shame nt scomg the young people of both sexe-*, laughing and
sneering at his father.. . . .Fifty years ago, the habitants always made
use ol their pocket-knives during meals ; the men, of knives loaded with lead ;
a blacksmith made the blade of it, and the wootlen handle was ornamented

A SUPPER AT A CANADIAN SEIGNIOR'S.

There was also to the right of each cover, silver
cups or goblets, of various forms and sizes ;* some,
very plain, with or without handles, some chalice-
shaped, with or without feet, and some embossed ;
many were also gilt inside.

A servant-maid, by handing on a waiter the usual
coup d^appitity that is to say, brandy for the gentlem.en,
and cordials for the ladies, announced that supper
was served. Eight persons placed themselves at
table. Mons. de Beaumont and his wife, Mme.
Descarrieres their sister, the cure, Captain Marche-
terre, his son Henry, and lastly Jules and Archy.
The mistress of the house gave the place of honor to
the venerable cure, by placing him on her right, and
the second place, that on her left, to the old sailor.

The bill of fare consisted of some excellent soup,
(in those days soup was a matter of course, for dinner
as well as for supper) a cold pic, called an Easter pie,
and served, on account of its immense size, on a
board covered with a napkin or small white cloth,
according to its proportions. This pie, that Brillat-
Savarin might have envied, was composed of a
turkey, two chickens, two partridges, two pigeons,
the back and thighs of two hares, the whole covered
with slices of fat bacon. The force-meat, on a soft
thick bed, on which these gastronomic treasures lay,
and which also covered the upper part, was made
from the two hams of that animal which the Jew
despises, but which the Christian treats with more
respect. Large onions interspersed, and spices, com-
pleted the dish. But a very important part was the

with tin chasing. As this instrument had no spring, the person using it
was obhged to keep the blade straight with his thumb ; the ingenious arti-
ficer who had made it, having facilitated the operation by placing a small
button on the blade just where it joined the handle. The habitants made
use of this weapon very skiiruUy ; but novices generally pinched their
thumbs terribly : a slight apprenliccship was necessary.

The women made use ol ordinary pocket knives, which they bought in
the shops.

=* Nearly seventy years ago, many families had still the custom of making
use 0/ the silver goblets ot table. At dessert-time wine glasses were added,
and the guests made use of either indlHerently, according to their greater or
lesis thirst ; besides, at that time, drunkenness was an unknown vice in the
best Canadian society.

mmm

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

cooking, which was the more difficult as, if the
monster burst, it lost fifty per cent of its attractions.
To prevent so deplorable an event, the under- crust,
which also covered about three inches in depth of the
culinary monster's sides, was not less than an inch
thick. This very crust, impregnated with the gravy
from all these meats, was a delicious part of this
unique dish.*

Roast fowls and partridges, covered with double
slices of bacon, pigs' feet, a stew, very diflferent from
that with which a Spanish hotel-keeper treated Gil
Bias, were the other dishes which appeared at the
hospitable board of Monsieur de Beaumont. For
some time they ate in silence, an. J with good appetite ;
but during the dessert, the old sailor, who, even
whilst eating like a famished wolf and drinking in
proportion, had been incessantly looking at Archy with
increasing interest, was the first to break the silence.

" It seems to me, young man," said he in a jeering
tone, " that you are not much afraid of colds in the
head ! It also seems to me that you are in no great
hurry to breathe the air of heaven ; and that, like two
others of your race, the beaver and the otter, you only
put your nose out of water every half hour or so, just
for form's sake, and to see what is going on in the
upper world. You are devilish like the salmon, too ;
for when one lets him have plenty of line, he takes
advantage of it. Gudgeons of your sort are not
caught in every stream, I'm thinking ! "

" All of which does not prevent that without your
presence of mind, and admirable care not to let out
more line than was exactly necessary, I should have
hurl my head and chest, against the ice, and the body
of poor Dumais, instead of lying in a warm bed,
would be now tossing about in the icy bed of the St.
Lawrence."

* The author thought he would be confv,. ig a favor on lovers of good-
living, by giving them so minute a description of this old. Canadian pie;
and he strongly advises them to make a trial of it if they will not take his
word as to its merits. Large families would often make two of them at
once, attacking the second, soon atler demolishing the lirst.

A SUPPER AT A CANADIAN SEIGNIOR'S.

" Listen to that fellow ! " replied Marcheterre, " to
hear him talk, you would think it was I who had
done the deed ! I might well give you out more line,
when I saw your heels going nearly over your head ;
a position you would have found awkward enough
in the very middle of the rushing water. May the
dev — , I beg your pardon, Monsieur le cure : I was
going to swear, it is an old sailor's habit of mine."

" Ah ! " said the cure (a) laughing, " it is just one
more or less, for, you old sinner, you have lor;;; been
indulging in them ; your tally-stick is full of notches,
and now you keep no account of your oaths."

" When ray tally is full of notches, my dear cure,"
said Marcheterre, " you shall pass a plane over it to
efface the notches, as you have already done ; and we
will begin them over again. Besides, I shall not
escape you, for you will know how to hook me in the
right time and place, and tow me to a safe port along
with the other sinners."

" You are too severe, Mons. I'abbe," said Jules ;
" ^hy should you wish the captain to deprive himself
of the consolation of swearing just a little ? were it
only against his nigger cook, who makes fricassees
for him as black as his own face ! "

" What, you mad little devil ! " exclaimed the
captain, pretending to be angry, " you dare to speak
that way, after the trick you played me ! "

" I ! " said Jules, meekly ; " I play you a trick .?
I am quite incapable of it, captain ; you calumniate
me sadly."

" Ah, look at that meek saint ! " said Marcheterre;
"^' I have calumniated him ! but never mind, I must
now attend to what is more urgent. Lie to, for the
present, boy, just for a short quarter of an hour ; I
will be at you again presently."

" 1 was about to say," continued the captain,
" when Monsieur le cure thrust my unlucky oath into
the hold and shut down the hatchway on it, that even,
young man, if you had descended the falls, through
curiosity, so as to be able to tell your friends what

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

goes on there, you would, like your relative the
salmon, have also found out the way to scale them."

The conversation having turned to joking, wit-
ticisms and bon mots for a long time succeeded to
the painful emotions of thr arlier part of the evening.

" Fill your gohletn, ,Ai of you," exclaimed Monsieur
de Beaumont, " I am about to propose a toast which
I am sure will be well received."

" You can easily talk about filling," said the old
cure, to whom they had given a richly chased cup,
nearly double the size of those of the other guests, to
do him honor ; " but I now am more than ninety
years of age, and have not the strong Broton head that
I had at twenty-five."

" But my dear friend," said Monsieur de Beaumont,
" you will not have far to go, as of course you will
sleep here. And then if your legs fail you a little,
your great age will pass ior being the cause of it, and
nobody will be scandalized."

" You forget. Sir," said the cure, " that I accepted
your amiable invitation in order to be at hand to
attend to poor Dumais ; my intention is to pass the
night with him. If you take away my strength," he
added laughingly, " of what use can I be to him ? "

" Still, you must go to bed," said Monsieur de
Beaumont, " for such are the orders of the master of
the house. You shall be awakened if you are wanted.
Be under no uneasiness as to poor Dumais and his
wife ; Madame Couture, their intimate friend, is with
them. I will even after supper (for I have ordered
refreshments for all who are here) send up a number
of gossips who will ask no better than to encumber
the sick room all the night, and vitiate the pure air of
which he has so much need. We shall all be forth-
coming if we are wanted." *

" You speak so wisely," replied the cure, " that I
am obliged to yield." Saying which he poured a
reasonable quantity of wine into the formidable cup.

* It was then the custom in country places, to crowd the sick room : it
is to be regretted timt it is still the case.

A SUPPER AT A CANADIAN SEIGNIOR'S.

75-

Then the Seignior de Beaumont addressed Archy
in « slightly trembling but impressive voice :

" Your conduct is above all praise. One can hardly
tell which is most to be admired, the self-devotion
which made you risk your life for the sake of a perfect
stranger, or the courage and presence of mind which
enabled you to succeed ! I know that your are about
to embrace the profession of arms, you possess all the
requisite qualities for your new profession. A soldier
myself, I predict a successful career for you. Let us
drink to the health of Mr. Locheill, the hero of the
day ! "

The young Scotchman's health was drunk with
enthusiasm. Archy, after having replied to it, added
with much modesty :

" I am really ashamed of receiving so much praise
for so simple an act. I was probably the only person
present who knew how to swim, for any of the others
would have done as much. It is said," he added,
smiling, " that your Indian women throw their new-
born children into the lake or the river, leaving them
to find their own way to shore, and that this is
their first lesson in the art of swimming. I am
inclined to think that our Highland mothers have
the same excellent custom, for it seems to me I have
always known how to swim."

" Mr. Archy is at his jokes again " said the
Captain. " As for me, although I have sailed for
fifty years, I have never been able to learn to
swim, (6) not, however, for want of having fallen
into the water oftener than it was at all neces-
sary, but because I had always the luck to catch
hold somewhere. If there was nothing within my
reach, I just threw my limbs about as the dogs
and cats do, and sooner or later some one must have
fished me out, since I am here now. This recalls to
my mind an incident of my sailor's life. My ship
wais at anchor on the banks of the Missis-.ippi. It
mi^ht have been nine o'clock in the evening of one of
those days of suffocating heat which can only be

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

enjoyed near the tropics. I had lain down on the
bowsprit of my vessel to breathe the evening breefze.
With the exception of the gnats, sandflie.s and mos-
quitoes, and the infernal noise made by the aligators,
■which I do believe had assembled from all parts of
the * Father of Rivers ' to give me a serenade, an
Eastern Prince might have envied me my couch. I am
not of a very timid nature, I must say, but I have a
natural avf^rsion to all sorts of reptiles, whether they
creep on the earth or live in the water."

" Captain," said Jules, " you certainly have deli-
cate, refined, aristocrat ; tastes, and I honor you for
it."

" Do you dare put i word again, you good-for-
nothing fellow, you exclaimed Marcheterre,
laughingly, shaking hi.s enormous fist at him. " I
was nearly forgetting you, but your turn shall soon
come now ! In the meantime I will proceed with my
story : I was feeling very comfortable-, safely up there
on my mast, listening to the hungry monsters,
snapping their jaws ; I was even defying my enemies,
saying to them : My fine fellows, you would like to
eat my carcass by way of a delicate tit-bit for supper,
would you not ? There is but one impediment, you
see, which is, that even if you would be obliged to
fast like anchorets all your lives, I would not be the
one to make you break your fast ; I have too scru-
pulous a conscience for that.

" I cannot exactly tell you how it happened," con-
tinued Marcheterre, " but somehow I finished by
falling asleep, and when I awoke I was plump in the
midst of the fine fellows. It is impossible to describe my
horror to you, notwithstanding my habitual coolness.
I did not, however, lose all presence of mind ; whilst
under water, I remembered that there was a rope
hanging from the bowsprit, and in rising to tne
surface I had the good luck to catch hold of it, but in
spite of my monkey-like agility and my youth, I only
got clear by leaving one of my boots and a precious

A SUPPER AT A CANADIAN SEIGNIOR'S.

morsel of one of my calves, as hofstages in the throat
of an uncivilized alligator.*

" Now foi your turn, you devil's imp," continued
the captain. '' Sooner or later I must pay you out
for the trick you played me. Last year, I was just
arriving from Martinique, when one morning in the
Lower Town of Quebec, I met my young gentleman
just as he was preparing to cross the river to go home
to his father's, at the commencement of the holidays.
After a volley of hugs, from which I could only get
free by pulling off to larboard, I begged him to
announce my arrival to my family, and to tell them
I could not go down to St. Thomas for three or four
days. What did the saint do ' He arrived at my
place at about eight o'clock in the evening, screaming
out like a madman : ' Joy ! joy ! shout for joy ! '

" ' My husband is arrived,' said Madame Marche-
terre. ' My father is arrived,' cried my two daughters.
* Of course,' said he, I should not be so jolly other-
wise. First, he kissed my old woman, there was no
great harm in that. He tried to kiss my daughters,
who fired a double broadside of boxes on the ear,
and then shot oft' full sail. What do you say. Mon-
sieur le cure, to this fine beginning, before going
farther ?"

" A'l ! Monsieur Jules," exclaimed the old pastor,
" I ■"• hearing fine things of you ! it was certainly
' y '■ aifying conduct for a pupil of the reverend
Jesuit fathers !"

" You see. Monsieur I'abbe," said Jules, " that all
that was only for fun, just to take part in the joy of
this amicable family. I knew too well the fero-^ious
virtue, (with a basis as firm as that of Cape Tempest)
of these sailors' daughters, to be in earnest. I knew
that after having fired their double broadside of boxes
on ihe ear, they would shoot off at full sail."

" I am beginning to believe, after all," said the old

* Fifty years ago, Captain Demeule, of the Island of Orleans, who fre-
«iuented the Southern Seas, related to me a similar adventure which had
happened to him.

THE CANADIANS OF OLD

cure, " thill you are telling the truth, that it was more
tricks than bud intention on your part, for I know
Jules d'Haberville, perfectly."

" That is right," said the captain ; " now take his
part, that is all that is wanting ; but we shall see
whether you will be equally indulgent as to the rest :"
When my gentleman had finished making a noise,
he said to my wife : * the captain begged me to tell
you that he would be here to-morrow, towards ten
o'clock in the evening ; and as he has made a good
thing of his voyage (which after all was true) he
wishes all his friends to partake of his happiness.
He would like there to be a ball and supper on his
arrival at home, which would be at about the hour
for sitting down to table. Therefore get everything
ready for this fete, to which he has invited me and
my brother Locheill. It puts me out a little,' added
the hypocrite, ' for I am in a hurry to see my dear
parents ; still, dear ladies, there is nothing I would
not do for you.'

*' * But what is my husband about, to give me so
little time !' said Madame Marcheterre ; ' we have
no market here ! my cook is too old to be able to do
so much work in one day ! It seems hopeless ; but
we must try and perform impossibilities to please
him.'

" ' Can I not be of some service to you ? ' said the
hypocrite, pretending to be very sorry for my old
woman. ' I will undertake the invitations with the
greatest pleasure.'

** ' You will really be doing me good service,' said
my wife ; you know every one, and I give you carte
blanche."

" My wife then sent all over the parish to procure
the meats she required. She and my daughters
passed the greater part of the night, helping the old
cook to make pastry, whipped creams, blanc-mange,
wafers, and a lot of trifles which are not to be com-
pared to the good tiaudes we get on the banks of

A SUPPER AT A CANADIAN SEIGNIOU'S.

Newfoundland.* liesitlcs Monsieur Jules did the
thing in grand style. During the night, he despatched
two messengers on horseback, one to the north-east,
the other to the south-west, bearing invitations to the
fete ; so that at six o'clock the next evening, thanks
to his kind consideration, my house was full of guests,
who were ducking like sea gulls whilst I was
anchored at Quebec, and to whom Madame Marche-
terre, in spite of a dreadful sick headache, was doing
the honors of the house with the best grace possible.
What do you say, gentlemen, to such a trick, and
what have you to say for yourself, you young cro-
codile ? "

" 1 wished," said Jules, " thai every one should
take part in the joy of the family at the success of a
friend who was so dear ! so generous ! so splendid !
I can assure you that if you had witnessed the regrets,
the general consternation, when they were obliged
to sit down to table towards eleven o'clock, without
waiting any longer for you (the next day being a
day of abstinence,) you would have been melted
into tears. As for your wife, she is an ungrateful,
yes, a very ungrateful woman. Seeing, a little
before eleven o'clock, that she was in no hurry to
give us supper, and that she was even beginning
to be a little uneasy about her dear husband, I just
whispered a word in her ear, and by way of thanks,
she broke her fan across my face."

Every one burst out laughing, and the captain
partook heartily of the general hilarity.

" How comes it, Marcheterre," said Monsieur de
Beaumont, "that you never before told us of this
excellent trick ? "

" There was no use,'* replied the captain, " telling
every one how we had been taken in by this young
rascal ; besides, it would hardly have been very
gracious of us to make known to you all, that you

* An old habitant, on being offered some chicken at dinner exclaimed
<< That is only trash ! there is more sense in a piece of pork or a good
tiaude ! This latter dish is composed of layers of f renh cod-fish and pork^
place alternately, and then stewed. It is of Dutch origin.

.^ijjittaai^jac^sf-".

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

owed the fete to Monsieur Jules d'Haberville : we
preferred getting tiie credit of it ourselves. I only
tell it now because I found it such a droll trick, that
I thought it would amuse you to hear of it."

" It seems to me, Mr. Diver," continued Marche-
terre, addressing himself to Archy, " that notwith-
standing your quiet, philosophical manner, you were
an accomplice of your dear fellow-traveller."

" I give you my word," said Locheill, " that I
knew nothing at all about it ; it was only the next
day Jules told me in confidence of his exploit, and I
scolded him well for it."

" And of course you did not profit by it, flinging
your great Scotch legs about to the imminent danger
of the more civilized shins of your neighbors. Perhaps
you have forgotten, that not content with dancing
French cotillions, which are danced in all polite
circles, to please you we were obliged to dance your
Scotch reels'* to a tune which our fiddler soon caught
by ear ; not a very difficult matter. All that it

requires is, to grasp

the

strings

of the violin, and

imitate the noise that cats might make if you thrust
them into your pocket, and pulled them out again by
the tail."

" Come, you sad fellow, you," said the captain to
Ju^es, " and eat your soup with me to-morrow, and
your friend also ; at the same time you can make
your peace Avith ray family."

" Tliji is what may be called speaking to the
purpose," said Jules.

" There he is at his jokes again," said Marchcterre.

As it was very late, they had to separate after
diinkin^Tf to the ! ealth of Marcheterre and his son,
giving them the meed of praise which both had so
well earned.

The young men were obliged to pass several days
at St. Thomas. The ice continued to descend the

* Scotch reels, which the habitants called cos-reels, Vfere, to ir/ own
knowledge, danced in the country places, seventy years ago. M^dt likely
the Highlanders, who were ai passionately fond of dancing as l.e Cana-
dians, introduced them soon after the conquest.

A SUPPER AT A CANADIAN SEIGNIOu'S.

river, the roads were flooded, the nearest bridge,
even supposing that it had not been destroyed, was
some leagues to the south-west of the village, and the
rain was falling in torrents (c). They were obliged
to wait till the river should be sufficiently free of ice
10 allow of their crossing in a boat at the foot of the
falls. They divided their time between the de Beau-
mont family, their other friends, and poor Dumais,
who had a long illness at the Seignior's house, for
the latter would not allow him to be moved before
he was perfectly cured. The sick man related to
them his fights with the English and their savage
allies, and told them a great deal about the manners
and customs of the aborigines, with whom he had
associated a good deal.

" Although a native of St. Thomas, I was brought
up," he said to them one day, " in the parish of Sorel.
I was ten years old and my brother nine, when a
party of Iroquois surprised us in the woods where we
were gathering strawberries, and took us prisoners.
After a somewhat long march, we came to their
canoe, which had been hidden in the brushwood
near the shore, and they took us across to one of the
numerous islands which border the river St. Law-
rence.* Some one gave the alarm to my family,
and my father, with his three brothers, all armed to
the teeth, started in pursuit of them. They were but
four against ten, but without boastiug I may say that
my father and uncles were men that I would not
advise any one to spit in the face of. They v ere tall,
well-made men, with open chests and broad shoulders.
It might be about six o'clock in the evening ; my
brother and I were sitting in the middle of our
enemies, in a little glade, surrounded by tufted wood,

* My good friend the late monsi-jur Boissonnault, cure of St. Jean Port-
Joli> told me, that when he rras serving the parish of Sorel, he had known
one of the two brothers whom their father and uncles had rescued from a
band of Iroquoi!*, ia the same manner. Every time that this man related the
adrenture; ue never failed to add : " My father and uncles were men ia
who?s laces I would not advise any one to spit. " *'And " monsieur Boisson-
nault would add « 1 should not have advised any one to offer such an insuJt
to my interlocutor, old as he was."

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

when we heard my father's voice calling to us ;
' Lie flat down on the ground.' I immediately laid
hold of my little brother (who was crying and whom
I had been trying to comfort) and dragged him flat
down on the ground with me. The Iroquois had
hardly started to their feet when four well-aimed
shot& struck down four of them, who rolled on the
ground like eels. The other canouaches (a term of
contempt,) not wishing, I suppose, to fire at random,
upon invisible foes, to whom they themselves would
serNre as marks, seemed to be making for the shelter
of the trees, but our deliverers did not give them time
to reach them, for falling on them with tomahawks,
they felled three of them at one swoop, and the rest
took flight, without the conquerors caring to pursue
them. In all haste we were taken back lo our mother,
who thought she would have died for joy at once
more embracing us."

Locheill sho related to the sick man the battles of
the Scotch i uountaineers, as well as their manners
and customs, and the almost fabulous exploits of his
herOj Wallace ; whilst Jules amused him by the
recital of his own escapades, and related several
historical anecdotes that were full of interest to him.

When the young men bade farewell to Dumais, he
said to Archy, with tears in his eyes : " Most likely,
sir, I shall never see you again ; but rest assured
that I shall never forget you, and that I, my wife and
my children, will pray for you every day of our lives.
It pains me to think that even supposing you should
come back to New France, a poor man like me
can never have a chance of proving his gratitude to
you."

" Who knows," said Locheill, " perhaps you may
be able to do more for me than I have done for you."

Did the Scotch mountaineer possess the gift of
second sight of which his countrymen boast ? The
sequel of this story will show.

The travellers left their St. Thomas friends, the
thirtieth of April, at about ten o'clock in the morning.

A SUPPER AT A CANADIAN SEIGNIOR'S.

The weather was magnificent, but the roads were
frightfully bad. They had six leagues to travel
before arriving at St.-Jean-Port-Joli, their destination ;
a journey they had to perform on foot, inveighing
against the rain which had made the last vestiges of
snow and ice disappear. It was far worse when
they got to the road that at that time crossed the
savannah of Cape St. Ignace ;* they often sank up
to their knees, and were frequently obliged to extri-
cate the horse, who had stuck in the mud.

Jules, the most impatient of the three, kept saying :
" If I only had the ordering of the weather, we should
not have had this devil's own rain, which has turned
the roads into so many swamps ! "

Perceiving at last that each time he said this, Jose
shook his head reprovingly, he asked him the reason,

" Ah, well ! do you see. Monsieur Jules," said
Jose, " I am only a poor, ignorant man, without
inducation, but for my part, I think that if you had
the ordering of the weather, we should not be any
better off; see what happened to Davy Larouche."

" You shall tell us Davy Larouche's adventure,"
said Jules, " when we shall have crossed this cursed
savannah, from which I have some trouble to extricate
myself, deficient, as I am, in the advantage of
possessing the stork-like legs which adorn that proud
Scotchman who is walking before us whistling a
pibroch, music worthy of the roads we aie losing
ourselves in."

" How much would

you

give.

said Archy,
of

" to
the

exchange your pigmy French legs for those
* proud mountaineer ? ' "

■• Keep your legs," replied Jules, " for the first
precipitate retreat you may liave to make before the
enemy. "

Having crossed the savannah, the young men asked
for Jose's story.

* Sixty years ago, at certain times of the year, it was by no means
piudent to start on a journey, (unless on necessary business) without first
ascertaining the state of the Cape mar!<h. I shall speak of it at greater lengtfa
in another note.

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

" I must first tell you," said the latter, " that one
named Davy Larouche was a long time back estab-
lished in the parish of St. Roch. He was a tolerably
well-off habitant, neither rich nor poor, just between
the two. The good man was like me ; he was not
over sharp, which did not however prevent him
getting along very well. So one morning Davy got
up earlier than usual, goes and does his work in the
stable, comes back to the house and shaves himself
like on a Sunday, and dresses himself in his best."

" Where are you going, husband .^" said his wife
to him, " how fine you have made yourself ! are you
going courting the girls ?"

You understand all she was saying about it was
only in joke ; she knew quite well that her husband
was shamefaced with woman, and not at all eager
after the creatures ; but la Teque (Thecla) was like
her uncle, Bernuchon Castonguay, the most factious
(facetious) body on all the south coast. S. ften
said, pointing to her husband, " you see thai ^/eat
stupid there," (you must excuse me, said Jcse, for
it was hardly polite from a woman to her husband)
well ! he would never have had the courage to ask
me in marriage, I who was the prettiest creature in
the parish, if I had not gone at least half-way ; yet
his eyes used to blaze in his head when he saw me.
I took compassion on him, then, for he did not seem
in much of a hurry ; it is true, that I had rather more
need to be in a hurry than he had, for he had four
good acres of land under his feet, whilst I had only
my own pretty self.

" She was rather telling a lie there, the little
rogue," added Jose, " for she had a cow, a yearling
heifer, six sheep, her spinning-wheel, and a chest so
full of clothes that it had to be well pressed down
with the knee to close it, and in this chest fifty good
francs."*

* Thecla C'astonguay's marriage portion would, in niyyot^rijiil f.y;, 1 ive

been considered a very good one ; a. habitant's daught'-r^ wbj
would soon have had "her choice oi'a husband.

hart a» sai'tl

A SUPPER AT A CANADIAN SEIGNIOR'S.

" Well, I took •■rmpai?sion on him," said she,
" one evening that he was at our house, and sitting
quite shame-faced in the coiner, without daring to
speak to me, so I said to him I know you love me,
you great stupid thing, go and speak to my father
who is waiting for you in the little room, and then
put up the bans at church. Thereupon, as he was as
red as a turkey cock, and yet did not budge, I push-
ed him into the other room by the shoulder. My
father opened a press and took out a bottle of brandy
to give him courage, but in spite of all these ad-
vr.-ices, he was obliged to have three nips before his
toiigue was loosened."

" So then," continued Jos6, " la Teque said to her
husband," where are you going husband, that you
are dressed up so fine ? Look out for yourself, for if
you are up to any pranks, I will melt you down into
lard."

" You know well enough I am not," said Larou-
che, giving her a cut with the whip across the back,
by way of fun, " here we are at the end of March,
my grain is all threshed, and I am going to the cure
with the tithe."

" That is all right," said his wife, who was a
good Christian, " we must render unto God the
things that are God's." Larouche, therefore, threw
his sacks on to his sleigh, put a live coal on his pipe,
and f ^ringing on the load drove merrily away.

"As he was passing by a little wood he ame across
a traveller who was issuing from a Cx-r-s path. This
stranger was a fine handsome man of about thirty
years of age. Long white hair floated on his should-
ers, his beautiful blue eyes had an angelical sweet-
ness., and the expression of his countenaoce, without
being positively sad, was melancholy and com-
passionate. He wore a flowing blue robe, confined
at the waist by a girdle. Larouche said he had
never seen anythmg so beautiful as this stranger ;
that the loveliest creature ^.3 ugly in comparison
with him."

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

" Peace be with you, my brother," said the travel-
ler to him.

" Thank you for your wish," answered Davy, " a
civil word costs nothing, and yet it is what no one
seems in a hurry to give. Thank God, I am at peace
with the whole world ; I have an excellent wife,
good children, I hp 3 a peaceful home, and all my
neighbors like me ; I have nothing to desire on that
score."

" I congratulate you," said the traveller. " Your
sleigh is well loaded. Where are you going so early ?"

" It is my tithe which I am taking to the cure."

" It seems, then," replied the stranger, " that you
must have had a good harvest ; paying, as you do,
but one bushel out of every twenty-six that you reap."

" Pretty good, I gram, but if I could have con-
trolled the weatheif, it would have been quite another
thing."

" You think so ?" said the traveller.

" Do I think so ! why I have no doubt about it,
replied Davy.

" Well," said the stranger, " you shall now have
what weather you wish, and much good may it do
you." So saying he disappeared at the foot of a
little hill.

((

It is funny, all the same," thought Davy, " I
knew well that there were bad people going about
the world, putting spells on men, women and child-
ren, and even animals; for instance, the wife of
Lestin (Celestin) Coulombe, who, on the very day of
her marriage^ laughed at a beggar who had a squint
in his left eye, and the poor creature was sorry
enough at having done so ; for he said to her angrily,
' Take care, young woman, or you will have only
squinting children.' The poor woman trembled for
every child she brought into the world, and she had
need, for you see the fourteenth, if you looked at it
quite close, had a speck in its right eye."

♦ It seems,' said Jules, ' that Madame Lestin must
have had a dreadful horror of squinting children,

A SUPPER AT A CANADIAN SEIGNIOR'S. 87

since she could only make up her mind to present
her dear husband with one after eighteen or twenty-
years of matrimony. At the worst if the speck has
disappeared, as often happens when children gfrow
up, she will have conscientiously fulfilled the beggar's
prediction. She must have been a reflective, slow-
going woman, who liked to lake her time about what
she did.*

Jose shook his head in evident dissatisfaction, and
continued : —

' But Larouche went on thinking to himself if there
are wicked people who go aboul the country casting
spells, I never heard speak of perambulating saints
who went about Canada to make us do miracles.
After all, it is no business of mine ; I will not speak
to any one of it, and next spring we shall see.'

The following year, about the same time, Davy
feeling ashamed, got up on the sly before daylight to
carry his tithe to the cure. He had no need of either
horse or cart, he could carry it all in his hand tied
up in a handkerchief. At sunrise, just at the same
spot, he again met the stranger, who said to him,
' Peace be with you, my brother !'

' There was never a more seasonable wish,' an-
swered Larouche, * for I think the devil is in my
house, and keeps his Sabbath there night and day ;
my wife scolds me to death from morning till night,
my children sulk, when they do no worse ; and all
my neighbors are exasperated with me.'

' I am very sorry to hear it,' said the traveller ;
' but what are you carrying in that little bundle ?'

* My tithe,' answered Larouche with a downcast
air.

' Still it seems to me,' said the stranger, that you
have always had just the weather you wished for.*

* It is but too true,' said Davy ; when I have asked
;or rain, wind, calm weather, I got it ; and yet
nothing has succeeded with me ! The sun burnt the
grain, the rain rotted it, the wind beat it down, and
the calm weather brought night-frosts. All my

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

neighbors have turned against me ; they look on me
as a magician who has brought a curse on their crops.
Even my wife began by treating me with contempt,
and she has finished by breaking out into abuse and
invective against me. Even my children take their
mother's part. It is enough to make one go out of
one's mind !'

* It must prove to you, my brother, that your wish
was a foolish one ; that you should always trust in
'ihe Providence of God, who knows better than man
what is good for him ; have confidence in Him and
you will see that you will not have the humiliation
of carrying your tithe in a handkerchief.'

At these words the stranger disappeared again at
the foot of the same hill.

Larouche took this for a maxim, and afterwards
accepted gratefully whatever God sent him that was
good, without troubling himself to try and rule the
seasons.

' I like this legend very much,' said Archy ; in its
naive simplicity, it gives a sublime moral lesson ;
at the same time that it shews the lively faith of our
worthy New France habitants. Accursed be the
cruel pliilosophy which would try to take from them
the consolations their faith offers them in the numer-
ous trials of this miserable life.

* We must acknowledge,' resumed Archy, profiting
by a moment when they found themselves at some
little distance from the carriage, * that our friend
J«86 has always an appropriate story to tell us ; but
do you think liis father nimself related his marvellous
dream nii St. Michael's hill ?

* I see,' replied Jules, ' that you do not yet know
half JoseV, talents ; he is an inexhaustible inventor
of stories. During the long winter evenings the
neighbors assemble in our kitchen, and Jos6 often
invents a story for them which lasts several weeks.
When he is at his wit's end what to say next, he just
says to them, * I am beginning to feel tired, I will
tell you the rest another day.' Jos6 is also a poet of

A SUPPER AT A CANAD[AN SEIGNIOR'S.

far greater renown than my Learned uncle the che-
valier, who is somewhat nettled at it however. He
never fails to sacrifice to the muses, both at Shrove-
tide and for New Year's day. If you had been at
my father's at those seasons, you would have seen
messengers arriving from all parts of the parish to
canr off Jos6's productions.'

* But surely he does not know how to write ?' said
Archy.

' And,' replied Jules, * those who come for them
do not know how to read, I believe. This is how
they manage. They send to the poet a fine singer as
they call him ; which singer has an excellent memo-
ry, and in half an hour at most he takes away the
song in his head. If any mournful event happens,
Jose is begged to make a lament ; if on the con-
trary, any comical event happens, it is always to him
that every one in our parish addresses himself. This
reminds me of what happened to a poor devil of a
lover, who had taken his beloved to a ball without
being invited; although intruders, they were polite-
ly received. The young man had the awkwardness
to make the young lady of the house fall in dancing,
which was greeted with shouts of laughter from
every one present. The father o( *he young girl,
who was a rough sort of a man, feeling indigrar^ at
the accident, made no bones about the matter, but
took Jose Blais by the shoulders and put him out <A
the house. He then apologized to the young man's
belle, and would not allow her to leave. On hear-
ing of this occurrence, our friend's muse could not
be restrained, and he composed the following song
which is droll enough in its simplicity :

Sunday after vespers Boule will give a ball.
But nobody must go, who cannot dance at all.

Foi ciol de rol de riddle, fol dol de rol de ray.

fiat nobody must go, who cannot dance at all,
Jeee Blais like the others, wants to give Boule a call.
Fol dol, &c.

Jose Blais like the others, wants to givti Boule a call.
His missus says he may, when the work is done up all.
Fol dol, dec.

Bv."ijU(5C4F«f',-3> ■,:■■■:?

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

His missu» says he may, when tliu worlr is done up all ;
So he runs out to the byre, and each cow beg ns to bawl.
Fol dol, ice.

So he runs out to the byre, and each cow begins to bawl,
For he treads on Rougette's foot, and at fiarrS's horn does haul.
Fol doi, (ko.

For he treads on Rougette's foot, and at Barre's horn does haul.
Then rushes to the stable, into each horse's stall.
Fol dol, &c.

Then rushes to the stable, into each horse's stall,
And hastens to the house, when they were curried all.
Fol dol, &c.

And hastens to the house, when they were curried all.
Puts on his new red vest, and coat with checks so small.
Fol dol, (Sec.

Puts an his new red vest, and coat with checks so small,
His fine french shoes,* and cravat black with pattern like a shtwi.
Fol dol. Sec,

His fine french shoes, and cravat black with pattern like a ihawl.
Then went to fetch his Lizzie dear, and took her to the ball.
Fol dol, Sec,

Then went to fetch his Lizzie dear, and took her to the ball.
Where they shewed him to th3 door, for be could notdanoe at all.
Fol dol. Sec.

Where they shewed him to the door, for he could not dance Vt' 411.
And kept the pretty Lizzie, his belle so straight and tall.
Fol dol. Sec,

* But that is a charming idyl !' exclaimed Archy
laughing, * what a pity Jose has not studied, Canada
would possess one more illustrious poet.'

* To return to his defunct father's adventures,' said
Jules, * I think that the old drunkard, after having
defied the Corriveau, (which the habitants always look
on as dangerous, the dead always avenging them-
selves sooner or later,) fell asleep by the road-side
just opposite to the Isle of Orleans, where such habi-
tants as travel by night always see goblins. I think,
I say, that he must have had a terrible night-mare,
during which he thought he was assailed on the one

'K' Habitants still call the shoes that are bought in the shops << French
Shoes."

A SrPPER AT A CANADIAN SEIGNIOR'S,

hand by the island sorcerers, and on llie other by La
Corriveau and her cage, (d) Jose, with his prolific
imagination, must iiave made up the rest, for you see
how he turns everything to the best advantage • the
fine picture from your supernatural history, nua liie
Cyclops from my uncle the chevali'r's Virgil, were
things that his defunct father had never heard of.'

' Poor Jose !' added Jules, how sorry I nin o have
treated him so badly the other day ; I only knew it
the next day, for I quite lost my senses when I saw
you disappearing in the water. I begged him a
thousand pardons, and he added, ' what ! yon are
still thinking about that trifle, and if still pains you !
it delights me ; on the contrary, now that all the up-
roar is over, it even makes me feel young again by
recalling to my mind your fits of temper when you
were a little child, when you used to scratch and bite
like a little imp, and when I used to run off with you
in my arms to save you from your parents' correc-
tions ; when your anger was passed, you used to cry,
and would bring me all your playthings to comfort

me.'

' Excellent Jose

what fidelity ! what attachment
to my family under all circumstances. Men, with
hearts as hard as the nether millstone, too often despise
those in Jose's humble station, without themselves
possessing one of their fine qualities. The most
precious gift that the Creator has made to man, is that
of a good heart ; even if its possession causes us many
griefs, these pains are compensated by the sweet enjoy-
ments that it brings us.'

The conversation of Jules d'Haberville, which was
generally so frivolous and light, became subdued by
feelings of the most exquisi e sensibility, in proportion
as the travellers approached the seignorial manor of St.
Jean Port Joly, whose roof they perceived by the
light of the stars.

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WEBSTIR.N.Y. MSM

(716)«72-4S03

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

CHAPTER VII.

-<$©^>-

Je benis le iwleil, je benis la lane et
lea astres qui etoilent le ciel. Je benis
aussi lea petita oiaeaux qui gazouillent
dans I'air.

Hbnri Heins.

THE D HABERVILLS MANOR.

The d'Haberville manor was situated at the foot of
a headland, which occapied the space of about nine
acres of the seigniorial domain, to the south of the
royalty road. This headland or promontory, of about
a hundred feet in height, was highly picturesque ; its
crest, covered with resinous wood, preserving its
verdant hue during the winter, offered a favorable con-
trast witi; the sombre spectacle presented at this season
of the year by the rest of the country, now wrapt in its
winter winding sheet. The evergreens gave repose
to the weary eye, which would otherwise for six
months have rested only on those bare trees, less favored
by nature, and which covered the declivity and foot
of the promontory. Jules d'Haberville often com-
pared these emerald-headed trees, proudly braving
the rigors of the ^^est seasons, to the great and
powerful of the turth, who lose none of its enjoy-
ments ; whilst the poor tremble under their feet.

It seemed as if the pencil of a Claude Lorrain had
delighted to embellish the sides and the foot of this
headland, so great was the variety of trees which
appeared to have given each other a rendez-vous from
all parts of the adjacent forests, in order to heighten
the beauty of the landscape. The elm, the maple, the
birch, the beech, the red pine, the ash, the wild

THE D'HABERVILLE MANOR.

cheny-tree, the cedar, the mascouabina and other
aboriginal trees which are the pride of our forests,
foinied a rich hanging on the steeps of this promon-
tory.

A grove of venerable maples completely occupied
the space between the foot of the promontory and the
royalty road, bordered on each side by rows of hazel
trees, and early flowering rose trees. The first thing
which struck a traveller arriving on the d'Haberville
estate, was a brook which, after falling down the
south-east declivity of the promontory through the
trees, mingled its limpid waters with those of a spring
two hundred feet lower down, and winding across
a large meadow, lost itself in the river St. Lawrence.
This spring, cut out of the solid rock, and fed by the
crystalline water which filters drop by drop through
the stones, famished the proprietor of the domain
with the coolest and most refreshing beverage during
the heat of summer. A small white-washed building
was erected over this spring in the shade of the large
trees. It seemed like a coy nymph to be hiding itself
from all beholders in the thick foliage which sur-
rounded it. The seats, placed boih outside and inside
this humble kiosk, «s well as the cassotf (of birch bark
bent into a conical form) which were hung oil the wall,
seemed so many invitations offered by the generous
naiad to travellers rendered thirsty by the heat of the
dog-days.

The top of this promontory still preserves its
emerald crown, and the declivity still preserves its
verdure during the fine season of the year ; but there
now hardly remain five maples, the last remnants of
the magnificent grove which was the glory of this
picturesque landscape. Out of the thirty-five which
seemed so healthy torty years ago, thirty have fallen
one by one, from year to year, as if through some
fatality. These trees gradually perishing under the
destructive hand of time, like the last years of the
present proprietor of this domain, seem to foretell that
nis life, linked to their existence, will expire with the

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

last veteran of the grove. When the lact log, which
shall have warmed the chilled limbs of the old man,
shall be consumed, his ashes will soon mix with
those of the tree he will have burnt ; a mournful and
sinister warning, like that of the catholic priest at the
beginning of Lent ; memerUo homo quia pulvia e«, et
in pulverem reverteris.

The Seignorial manor, situated between the river
St. Lawrence and the promontory, was only separated
from the latter, by a large courtyard, the royalty road
and the grove. It was a one-storied building with a
steep roof, a hundred feet long, and flanked by two
wings of fifteen feet, each projecting into the principal
courtyard. A bake*house adjoining the kitchen to
the north-east, served also as a wash-house. A little
summer house, contiguous to a large drawing room
to the south-west, gave some appearance of regularity
to this mannor built after the old Canadian fashion.
Two other out-buildings to the south*cast, served, the
one, as a dairy, and the other as a second laundry,
containing a well which communicated by means of
a water-pipe with the kitchen of the main building.
Coach-houses, barns and stables, five little out-houses
of which three were in the grove, a kitchen garden to
the south-east of the manor, two orchards, one to the
north, and the other to the north-east, completed a
picture which will give some idea of this Canadian
seigniorial residence, which the habitants used to call
the d*Haberville village.

On whatever side a spectator seated on the summit
of the cape might cast his looks, he could but con>
gratulate himself on having chosen so elevated a post,
however little he might be given to admiring the beauti-
ful views which are to be found on the banks of the
St. Lawrence. If he cast nis eyes downwards, the
small da;^zlingly white village seemed to spring sud-
denly from the green meadows which reached to the
very border of the river. If, on the contrary, he raised
them, an imposing panorama unfolded itself before
his astonished gaze. There was the king of rivers,

THE D'HABKRVILLE MANOR.

0»

which at this jxiint iM already iicveu IcafnicN wide, to
the north meeting with no othrr ob»taclo than the
LaurcntideH whose feet it bathefi ; and which the eye
takes in with all its villages from Cape Tourmente
to Malbaie ; there were Ooom^ Island and Stork *»
Island to the west; opposite there were the Pillars of
which one \h as barren and as desert as the enchan>
trees Ciree^ ifCusan rock, whilst the otiier is alwavs
as green usCalypso^H island ; to tlu> north the Seals*
shallows, at all times no dear to Canadian sports-
men ; and lastly there wore the two villages of Islet
and St. Jean-Port -J oii crowned by the steeples of
their respective churches.

It was nearly nine oV'lock in the evening, when
the young men arrived on the hill which overlooks
the manor to the south*east. Jules came suddenly
to a stand at the sight of tlioxc objects which recalled
to h'n mind the happiest days of his existence.

"I have never approached " sold he "the domains
of my ancestors, without being deeply impressed !
Let otluT« vaunt an they w ill the l>eauty of the mag-
nificent and picturesque sites which aboun«i in Now
France, for me therc Is but one," he exclaimed,
stamping with his foot on the ground, " it is the one
where I was bom ! It is hero wherf> iity childhood
passed, surrounded by the tender and aifet*tionnte care
of my good parents I It is here, where I have lived
bclovi'il by every one ! The days seened too short,
to suffice for my childish games ! I used to get up at
day-breok and dress myself in all haste ; I had a thirst
for enjoyment which re.Mfmbled the longings of fever."

** I love all that now surrounds me," added Jnles ;
** I love tlic moon, which you may st^e peeping through
the trees which crown the suminit of that beautiful
height, tfhe never seems to me so beautiful elsewhere !
I love this brook which used to turn the little wheels
that I called my mills ! I love this spring, in which
I used to quench my thirst during the heat ot summer !
It Is here that my mother used to sit," continued Jules,
shewing a little rock covered with moss and shaded

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

by two superb beeches. *' It is here, that I used to
take her the icy water which I had drawn from the
spring in my little silver cup ! Ah ! how many
times has not that tender mother, watching at my
bedside or suddenly awakeend by my cries, given me
in that same cup the milk of which I stood in need,
or which through some childish whim I asked of her
maternal tenderness ! And to think I must leave all !
perhaps for ever ! Oh, my mother ! my mother ! what
a separation ! " And Jules shed tears. Locheill,
deeply moved, pressed his friend's hand saying to
him : " you will come back, my dear brother ; you
will come back to be the happiness and pride of your
family ! "

" Thank you, dear Archy," said Jules, " but let
us get on, my parents* embraces will quickly dissipate
this feeling of sadness. "

Archy who had never visited the country during
the spring, asked the meaning of all the little white
objects which stood out from the brown trunks of the
maple trees.

" Those," said Jules, " are little troughs which the
sugar-maker* inserts underneath the incisions which
he makes in the maple-trees, in order to catch the sap
from which he makes the sugar."

" Would one not say," said Archy, " that the
trunks of these trees are immence hydraulic tubes,
with spouts ready to inundate a populous city."

This remark was cut short by the furious barking
of a large dog which ran to meet them. *^ Niger !
niger ! " called Jules to him. At the sound of tibis
friendly voice the dog suddenly stopped, started
onwards again, sniffed at his master to assure him-
self of his identity, and then received his caresses
with that half joyful, half plaintive whine, which for
want of speech expresses the love of this faithful and
affectionate animal

" Ah poor Niger," said Jules, " I perfectly under-
stand what you mean to say, half of it is reproaching

• In Canada the name of tucrier it given to those who mtke thi& iogK,

THE D'flABERVILLE MANOR.

me for having so long forsaken you, and the other
half expresses your pleasure at seeing me again, and
grants me an amnesty for my ingratitude. Poor
Niger ! when I come back from my long journey, you
will not even have the happiness of dying at my feet
like the dog of Ulysses ! " And Jules sighed.

The reader will most probably like to make ac-
quaintance with the members of the d'Haberville
family. To satisfy so natural a wish, it is but right
to introduce them in their hierarchical order.

The Seigneur d'Haberville was hardly forty-live
years of age, but he appeared to be at least ten years
older; so much had the fatigues of campaigning worn
out a naturally strong and robust constitution ; his
duties as captain of a detachment of marines having
constantly obliged him to be under arms. These
continual wars in the forests, without any other shelter
(to use the forcible expression of the Canadians of
old,) than the compass of the sky, or the shelter of the
heavens ; these expeditions of ambush or of surprisals
against the English or the Indians during the most
rigorous seasons, soon affected the strongest constitu-
tions.

Captain d'Haberville was physically what is called
a fine man. His well shaped figure, for he was
slightly over the middle height, his perfectly regular
features, his bright complexion, large dark eves
which he seemed to soften at will, but of which tew
men could bear the glance when he was angry, his
manners, simple in their elegance, all these together
gave him a distinguished appearance. A severe
critic, however, might have found some fault with his
long and thick eyebrows, as black as ebony. Morally,
the Seigneur d'Haberville possessed all those qualities
which distinguished the well-bom Canadians of old.
He might however be reproached on the score of
vindict'veness by a stern moralist : for he hardly ever
forgave either a real or an imaginary injury.

Mme. d'Haberville, a good and' pious woman of
six and thirty years of age, was entering that second
7

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

period of beauty which rncn often prefer to that of
earij youth. Fair, and of a middle height, all her
features were stamped with angelic sweetness. This
excellent woman appeared to have hut one object,
that of contributing to the happiness of all around
her. The habitants in their simple language called
her " the perfect lady."

Mile. Blanche d'Haberville, younger than Jules,
was the living image of her mother, but of a i^lig^Uy
melancholy disposition. Gifted with intelligence
beyond her years, she had great influence over her
brother, whose fiery temper she often restrained with
a look of entreaty.

Although this young girl appeared very reserved
she could shew surprismg energy when circumstances
required it.

Madame Louise de Beaumont, the younger sister
of Mme. d'Haberville, had never separated from her
since her marrage. Although rich and independent,
she had nevertheless devoted herself to the family of
her elder sister, for whom she entertained an affection
that was quite touching. Ready to share their happi-
ness she was equally ready to share their sorrows, if
the cruel hand of misfortune should make itself felt
by them.

Lieutenant Haoul d'Haberville, or rather the Ch^e-
valier d'Haberville, whom every one called " my
uncle Raoul," was the younger brother of the Cap-
tain ; and although two years younger than him, he
looked at least ten years older. " My uncle Rapul,''
was a little man nearly as broad as he was long, and
making use of a cane for walking ; any way he would
have been very ugly, even without his face bavijM;
been seamed with the small pox. It is very difflciij^
to say how he acquired his appellation of " my vndfi
Raoul ;" one may say of a man that he looks fieUher^,
he is quite a little pa]);i * but one never says of any one
that he looks like an uncle. Whatever may haViQ.
been the reason, Lieutenant d'Haberville was ^>my
uiicle" to everybody; even his soldiers, when ho

TUE D'ilABERVILLE MANOR.

was on service, called him *■*■ my uncle Raoui " behind
his back. If one may hf; allowed to compart; small
things with great, it was like Napoleon, who was
always " lo petit Caporal " to his old soldiers.

'* My uncle Raoul " was the lettered man of the d'Ha-
berville family, and therefore somewhat of a pedant like
nearly all those who are in daily intercourse with those
not so well educated as themselves. Though the best
natured man possible when he got his own way, he
had one little weakness, that of always thinking him-
self in the right ; and this made him very irritable with
those who were not of the same opinion as himself.
My uncle Raoul prided himself on his knowledge of
latin, and he often launched scraps of it at the heads of
both the learned and the unlearned. He held endless
discussions with the Cure of the parish on quotations
from Horace, Ovid and Virgil, his favorite authors.
The Cur6, a gentle quiet-tempered man, almost
always yielded to his irritable antagonist for the sqke
of peace and quiet. But uncle Raoul also prided
himself on being a great theologian ; and this was far
more embarrassing for the poor Cure. He had a great
affection for the soul of his friend, who had been very
wild during his youth, and whom he had had mucn
trouble in leading into the right path. He was some-
times obliged to yield points, which were not very
essential to the salvation of " my uncle " cc as not
to exasperate him. But when an important matter
was in question he called Blanche to his assistance,
as she was her uncle's idol.

" What, my dear uncle " she would say, petting
him " are you not learned enough without encroach-
ing on our good pastor's attributes ; you triumph in all
the other pomts of discussion," she would add looking
significantly at the Cure, " so be generous and allow
yourself to be convinced on points that are pecuUadiy
the province of God's ministers."

And as my uncle Raoul only argued for aKgument's
«tUce, peace would soon be restored between the

belligerent parties.

100

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

My uncle Raoui waH a person of no nmall import-
ance ; he was in certain renpcctH the niOHt important
personage at the manor, since his retirement from the
army ; (or tiie Captain whose military duties often
compelled him to be long abr<ont entrusted all business
affairs to liim. His occupations were certainly very
numerous ; he kept the account of the receipts and
expenditure of the family, drew the rents of the s«ig-
niory, went to high mass every Sunday wet or fine to
receive the holy water in the absence of the Seignior
of the parish ; and amongst other little duties that
devolved upon him, he had to hold at the baptismal
font, all the first bom children of the tenants on the
estate, an honor which belonged by right to his elder
brother but which the latter renounced in favor of his
younger brother.*

A little scene will give some idea of uncle Raoul's
importance on solemn occasions. We will take an
in^ancc during that period of the month of November,
when the rents of the tenants on the estate fall due.

My uncle Raoul, with a long goose quill behind
his ear, is seated majestically in a large arm chair,
near a tabic covered with a green baize cloth, on
which his sword is lying. He assumes a severe air
when the tenant presents himself, without however
the least imimidating the debtor, who has been long
accustomed only to pay his rent when he finds it
convenient ; so indulgent is the seignior d'Haber-
villc towards his tenants.

But as my uncle Raoul holds more to the form than
to the reality, and prefers the appearance of power
even to power itself, he likes every thing to go on
with a certain solenmity.

*^ Woe to the Seignior who accepted the office oi' god-tether to the child
of one of his tenanta ; he was obliged to go on burthening himself afresh,
so as not to create any jealousies. The author was present, one New
Year's Day when a seignior, aAer mass, received visits from a hundred of
hisffod-chiidren.

The god-father always furnished the drinkaliies for the christening-least
as well as whatever the mother of the new-bom child drank dunng her
sickness; wine and water being then considered inAllible remedies .for a
lying-In woman.

THE D'HABERVII-LE MANOR.

101

*' How aro you, my— my — lieutenant ?" HSLys the
tenant, accustomed to call him my uncle, behmd his
back.

*' Well, and you ?" what do you want with me ?
an8wer8 my uncle, looking very important.

" I am come to pay my rent, my — t)fficer ; but the
times are so bad, that I have no money," says Jean
Baptiste,* shaking his head with a Hatisned air.

" Neacio vos ! " exclaims my uncle Raoul, raising
his voice, *' reddite qum aunt Casaris Catsari.''^

" What you arc saying is very fine my — my—
captain, so fine that I do not understand any of it,"
says the tenant.

" It is Latin, you ignoramus !" says my uncle
Raoul, and the meaning of this Latin is, pay your
just rents to tiie seignior d'Haberville, under pain
of being indicted before all the royal courts, of being
condemned in the first and second instances to all
expenses, damages, interests and loyaux-codta.

" Those royaux coupa must hurt one a good deal,"
says the tenant.

'' Good Heavens ! " exclaims my uncle Raoul,
raising his eyes to heaven.

*' I can well believe my.... my lord, that your
latin threatens me with all its terrors ; but I had the
misfortune to lose my filly born this last spring."

" What, you rascal ! for the sake of a pitiful six
months beast, you want to evade the seignorial rights
established by your sovereign, as solidly as those
mountains to the north which you are looking at are
established on their rocky bases. Quoa ego.'*'* f

" I think," says the tenant, in a low voice, " he is
talking wild indian to frighten me," and aloud he
added, " you see, that my filly would in four years
time have been (according to those who are judges of

* Jean Baptt'ste, the name given to Canadianti, as John Bull to
Engiiahmen,

t These seignorial rights, which seemed so sutMiantial have latterly
cramUed away under th« powerful attacks of a number of tenants against
their aeigniors, under the popular cry of Jiat juttitia ! mat calum f
Poor Heaven ! it would have crumbled away long ago under the cry of
fiat juttitia had it not beeu more substantial than human insiitutions.

102

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

horseflesh) the best trotter in this soiitli coant, and
would have been worth a hundred francs if she were
worth a sou."

** Come, be ofV to the devil !" answers my uncle
Raonl, "" and tell Lisette to give you a good glass of
brandy, to console you for the loss of your filly.
These rogues !" adds my uncle Raoul, " drink more
brandy than they pay rent."

The habitant on entering the kitchen, says to
Lisette, chuckling, " I have had tough work with my
uncle Raoul, he even threatened to give me royaux
coups."

As my uncle Raoul was very pious after his own
fashion, he never failed to say his beads and read in
his * book of hours ' every day ; but yet, by a some-
what singular contrast, he employed his leisure hours
in swearing with an energy that could hardly be
called edifying, at the English, who had broken his
leg at the taking of Louisbourg ; so painful to him
w^is the remembrance of this accident, which had
ibiced him to renounce the career of arms.

When the young men arrived in front of the manor
house, they were astonished at the spectacle it pre-
sented. Not only were all the rooms lighted up, but
also some of the out-buildings. There was an un-
usual stir, an extraordinary coming and going. And
as the whole court was illuminated by this abundance
of light, they easily distinguished six men, armed
with hatchets and guns, seated on a fallen tree.

" I see," said Archy, " that the master of the house
has put the guard under arms, to do honor to our
equipage as I had predicted."

Jos6 who could not understand any badinag.e on
this subject, moved his pipe from the right to the left
side of his mouth, and murmuring something between
his teeth, commenced smoking again furiously.

" I cannot possibly explain," said Jules, laughing,
" why my father's guards^ as you do them the signal
honor of calling them, are under arms ; unless they
are fearing a surprise on the part of our friends, the

If;.

THE D'lIABERVirXR MANOR.

108

Iroquois ; but let us liastrn tm, and then Wf shall
soon learn the sohition of the onigma.

The six men rose spontaneously on their entering
the courlynrd, and eame forward to welcome their
yonng seignior and his friend.

" What ! " snid Jules, shaking hands heartily with
them, " is that you my old friend Chouinard ! and you
Julien ! and you Alexis Dub6 ! and you my old
friend Fontaine ! and is that you, you rogue Franpois
Maurice ! I was thinking, that taking advantage of
my absence, the whole parish bodily must have
thrown you into the River St. Lawrence, as a reward
for all the diabolical tricks you have played ort' on
peaceable folks."

" Our young Seignior," said Maurice, " always
liked to have his joko, but I must say that if every
one was thrown into the river who plays of! pranks
on others, I know one who would long ago have
drunk of it.

" Indeed ! " answered Jules, laughingly, " but
perhaps that comes from the bad milk I imbibed, for,
remember, it was your dear mother who nursed me.
But let us speak of something else. What the devil
are you all doing here at this hour ? Are you gaping
at the moon and stars ? "

" There are twelve of us," said old Chouinard,
" who are taking our turns to guard the may-pole
which we arc to present to-morrow to your honored
father ; there are six amusing themselves in the
house, whilst we are keeping the first watch."

" I should have thought that the may-pole would
have taken good care of itself all alone ; I do not
think any one would be mad enough to leave his bed
for the pleasure of breaking his back dragging that
venerable mass away, whilst wood is to be had at
every door."

" You are not up to what is going on, young gen-
tleman," replied Chouinard, " don't you see there
are! always people who are affronted at not being
invited to the may-feast ; no later than last year,

104

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

li'::

some blackguards who had had a hint to stay at
home, had the audacity, during the night, to saw the
may-pole in two, which the habitants of Ste. Anne
were to present the next morning to Captain Besse.
Think how ashamed every one felt when they arrived
in the morning and saw their fine may-pole only fit
to be burnt in the stove ! "

Jules could not restrain from fits of laughter at a
trick that he well knew how to appreciate.

*' Laugh as you will," said Fontaine, " but it cer-
tainly is not christian to play such tricks ! " You
understand," he added, in a serious tone, " that we are
not afraid of such insults being offered to our Seignior,
but as tliere are always mean fellows everywhere, we
are taking precautions in case of any insult being
offered."

" I am a poor man," said Alexis Dube, " but for
all my land is worth, I \vould not have such an insult
offered to our captain."

Every one spoke to the same effect, and Jules was
in the arms of his family before they had done in-
veighing against the blackguards, the mean fellows,
who, in their imagination, might have the audacity
to mutilate the fir-tree may-pole that they proposed
offering the next day to the seignior d'Haberville.

It may be supposed that the libations, and the refresh-
ments provided for them during their night-watch, as
well as the next morning's substantial breakfast, did
not fail still further to stimulate their zeal on this
occasion.

" Come," said Jules to his friend after supper,
" let us go and see the preparations they are making
for these may-people's breakfast ! as neither you nor
I have had the advantage of witnessing that famous
wedding of the rich Gamachis, which so rejoiced the
heart of Sancho Panza ; this may perhaps give us
some idea of it."

All was hurry and confusion in the kitchen where
they went first ; the shrill laughing voices of the
women, mixed with those of the six men off" guard,

THE D'HABERVILLE MANOR.

105

who were occupied in drinking, smoking, and
teasing them. Three maid-servants, each armed*
with a frying-pan, were making, or according to the
generally received expression, tossing pancakes over
a fire made in the open chimney, whose brilliant
flames lit up the joyous faces throughout that large
kitchen, producing a Rembrandt-like effect of light
and shade. Several of the women-neighbors, seated
at a large table, were, with a large spoon, pouring
into the frying-pans as they were emptied, the batter
of which the pancakes are made, whilst others were
powdering those already cooked with maple sugar,
as they heaped them up on dishes, where they were
already forming very respectable pyramids. A large
copper, half full of lard, simmering in the beat of a
stove, received the croquecignoles* which two cooks
were incessantly putting in and taking out.

The faithful Jose, the soul, the majordomo of the
house, seemed to be in a hundred places at once on
these grand occasions. Seated at the end of a table
with hiy capot off, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his
elbows, and his eternal knife loaded with lead in
his hand, he was furiously cutting up a loaf of maple
sugar, whilst hurrying on two other servants who
were engaged in the same way. Then he would
run for more flour and eggs as the batter diminished
in the basons, not forgetting in the meanwhile to visit
the refreshment table, and see that nothing was want-
ing ; perhaps too partly to take a glass with his
friends.

Jules and Arciiy passed from the kithchen to the
bakehouse, where they were drawing from the oven a
second batch of crescent-shaped pies, at least fourteen
inches long, whilst quarters of beef and mutton, legs
and ribs of fresh pork, and fowls of every description,
were put ready in pans awaiting their turn in the
oven. Their last visit was to the wash-house, where

* Croqueeigiioies, a cake somewhat resembling a dough-nut, and
essential^ Canadian. It is cut in strips, which the cook passes her fingers
between to separate, before throwing the cakes into the boiling lard.

106

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

they wero cooking ia a ten gallon boiler, the fricassee
•of fresh pork and mutton, which is the delight of the
old men whose teeth are failing.

" Ah ! this is indeed a feast like those of Sardana-
palus of Assyrian memory !" said Archy, " a feast
which will last six months."

" You have only seen a part though," said Jules,
" the dessert is in the same proportion. I thought
you knew our habitant ways better. The master of
the house would be accused of stinginess, if, at the
end of the repast, the tables were not as loaded with
food as when the guests sat down. When a dish is
empty, or nearly so, you will see it immediately
replaced by the servants." *

" I am the more surprised," said Archy, " as your
habitants are generally very saving, rather inclined
to avarice than otherwise ; now, how can you recon-
cile that with the waste there must necessarily be,
during the hot weather, of all the meat which remains,
and which one family alone could not possibly con-
sume." f

" Our habitants, dispersed through all New France,
at great distances from one another, and hence
deprived of the advantage of markets, live during the
spring, summer and autumn, on salt provisions, bread
and milk food ; and with the rare exception of a mar-
riage, seldom give what might be called an entertain-
ment during those seasons of the year. To make up
for this, there is a great consumption of all kinds of
fresh meat during the winter ; there is then a general
feasting, and hospitality is pushed to its utmost limits

"1^ This custom was universal with the rich habitants, and also with those
who wished to appear so ; a$ well as among the rich citizens in the towns.
The higher classes also euoumljered their tables on grand occasions, but
not to such excess.

f The old habitants were more reluctant to spend one sou, than their
descei>dunts in our days are to s[)end a pound. Although they were then
most of'tiem rich, yet thev did not indulge in superfluities ; the produce of
their land sufficed lor all their wants. When a rich habitant would
marry his daughter, he would victimise himself for the occasion by buying
her in the shops, a print dress, a pair of cotton stockings, and a pair of
shoes ; which articles of dress would often descend to the bride's fjrtttttl-
children.

THE D'HABERVILLE MANOR.

107

from Christmas to Lent. It is a perpetual coming
and going of visitors during that time. Four or five
cctrioleSj* holding a dozen or so of people arrive ; they
at once take out the horses, after having begged their
friends to take off their things ; the table is got ready,
and at the end of an hour, at the most, this same
table is loaded with smoking hot meats." f

" Your habitants," said Archy, " must then possess
Aladdin's lamp !"

" You understand," said Jules, " that if they had
to make the preparations that we have, the habitants'
wives, being for the most part, without servants,
would soon be obliged to restrict their hospitality, or
even put an end to it altogether, but it is not so ; they
enjoy society with hardly any more trouble than their
husbands.| The receipt is simple enough ; at their
leisure they prepare two or three batches of different
sorts of meats, which they have no trouble in keeping
in that state^ on account of the cold weather. When
visitors arrive, all they have to do is to warm up the
eatables in their stoves, which are always hot enough
to roast an ox at that time of year ; habitants detest
cold' meats."

" It is really a pleasure," added Jules, " to see our
Canadian women, who are always so light-hearted,
preparing these impromptu re)>asts ; to see them first
working at one thing, then at another, all the time
humming a song, or mixing in the conversation ;
then running from the table they are laying to the
meat which is beginning to burn, and with one
hand's turn, putting every thing to rights ; then to

* Cariole — a two-wheeled carriage, with a head, still much used in
Lower Canada.

stil

tDigreyer or Digritr ; this term which is taken from sea-language is
[ used in the country places. It means ''' take ofl* your great-coat, £c.'*

What a generous ofTer of hospitality, to treat a friend like a ship being laid
up for the winter. This expression comes from our Norman ancestors who
were a great sea-faring nation.

X Formerly habitants' wives very seldom kept servants 5 now-a-daya
they frequently keep them.

»!

108

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

see Josephte* sit down with her guests, getting up
a dozen times during the meal if anything is wanted
for them, singing her song, and after all enjoying herself
as heartily as the others."

" You will probably say, that these warmed-up
dishes lose a good deal of their flavor ; this is true as
regards ourselves, who are a*^customed to live so
differently ; but as habit is second nature, our habi-
tants are not so particular, and as their taste is not
vitiated like ours, I am certain that their repasts,
moistened with a few glasses of good brandy, are
everything they can wish for. But as we shall be
•obliged to return to this subject, let us now go and
rejoin my parents, who must be already impatient at our
absence, which I look on as so much time stolen
from their affection. I thought you would like to be
a little more initiated in our country Canadian man-
ners and customs, particularly as you have not visited
us before during the winter."

The evening was prolonged far into the night, for
they had so many things to say to one another. And
it was only after receiving his father's blessing, and
tenderly embracing his other relations, that Jules
retired with his friend to enjoy that sluirber of which
both stood so much in need after the fatigues of the
day.

* Josephte, a nickname given by (he townspeople to the habitant's
wives.

The bad wheat harvests that there have been for the last thirty years, and
still more the temperance societies, have, in a great measure, put an end to

tliis far too costly hospitality.

MAY-DAY.

10»

CHAPTER VIII.

-«*e«>>-

Le premier jour ilc niai :

I.abotirez,
Je m'en Au planter un mii :

Labourez,
A la porte a ma in- '

Auciennt, mson.

MAY-DAY.

It was hardly five o'cU>ck the next morning, when
Jules (whose nature partook of that of the cat so lightly
did he sleep) called to Locheill whose bedroom was
adjoining liis own, that it was quite time to get up ;
but whether the latter was really asleep, or whether
he did not wish to answer, d'Haberville took the most
expeditious means of arousing him, by getting up him-
self. Then, arming himself with a' towel dipped in
cold water, he entered his friend's room, and began
his morning toilet for him, by roughly washing his face.
But as Archv, notwithstanding his aquatic taste, did
not relish these somewhat officious attentions, he
snatched the instrument of torture from his hands, and
making it into a ball threw it at his head, then turn-
ing on to his side he was preparing to go to sleep
again, when Jules, darting to the foot of the bed, pulled
off all the clothes. Reduced to this extremity the
citadel was obliged to surrender at discretion, but as
the garrison in the person of Archy was stronger than
the besiegers in the person of Jules, Locheill gave
him a good shaking and asked him with some temper
if people at Habcrville were not allowed to sleep at
night. He was even going to finish by expelling
him from the ramparts, when Jules, who even while

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

.struggling in the powerful arms of his adversary, was
in (its of laughter, begged him to have the kindness
to listen, before inflicting so humiliating a punishment
on a future soldier of the French army.

" What have you to say in your own defence,
you incorrigible rascal," said Archy who was now
thoroughly awake " is it not enough to be always
playing the devil by day, without coming to torment
me at night ? "

" I am very sorry indeed," said Jules, " to have
aroused you from your sleep, but as our folks have
to plant another may-pole at the cross near which
Belanger lives, at about two miles from here, it is
arranged that my father's is to be presented to him at
six o'clock in the morning, and if you do not wish to
lose any part of this interesting ceremony, it is time
to dress yourself. You know that I think every one
must be like myself, in taking interest in every thing
that brings us with our good habitants : I know
nothing more striking than the good feeling which
exists between my father and his tenants, between
our family and these fine fellows. Besides, as my
brother by adoption, you will have your part to play
during a spectacle which you have never as yet wit-
nessed."

As soon as the young men were dressed, they went
from their room into one which looked out on the
court-yard of the manor house, where an animated
scene presented itself. It was filled by about a hun-
dred habitants, distributed here and there in UtUe
groups. Their long guns, their powder flasks sua-
pended from their necks, their tomahawks stuck m
their girdles, the hatchets with which they wepe
armed, all these gave them more the appearance oi
people preparing for a warlike expedition, than that
of peaceable husbandmen.

Locheill who was much amused at the novel sight,
proposed descending to join the groups which wQre
surrounding the house, but Jules prevented him !>▼
saying that it was against etiquette, as they were •»

MAYDAY.

Ill

gupposcd not to be aware of what was passing with-
out, where all was stir and bustle. Some were busy
dressing the may-pole, others digging a deep hole in
which to plant it, whilst others again were sharpening
long wedges to hold it firm. This may-pole was of
the most primitive simplicity. It was a tall fir tree,
stripped of its branches and twigs as far as the cius-
ter of foliage at the top which is called the bouquet ;
this bouquet^ generally about three feet high, but al-
ways in proportion with the height of the tree, looked
very nice as long as it continued green, but after being
dried up by the heat of summer, by the month of
August it was dismal-looking enough. A red pole, six
feet long, crowned \\ ith a green vane and adorned
with a large ball of the same color as the pole, was
fastened among the branches of the bouquet; and when
this was once nailed to the tree, the dressing of the
may-pole was completed. We must also add that
strong wedges of wood, let into the tree at intervals,
made it easy to mount, and they also served as ful-
crums for the stakes with which they raised the pole.

The firing of a gun, from the principal door of the
manor house, announced that every thing was in rea-
diness. At this signal, the d'Haberville family
gathered in the drawing-room, in order to receive the
deputation of whose arrival the shot gave them notice.
The Seignior d'Haberville took his place in a large
arm chair, the Seignioress seated herself on his right
and Jules on his left. My uncle Raoul standing and
leaning on his sword, placed himself behind the prin-
cipal group, between Madame Louisa de Beaumont
and Blanche, who were seated on chairs. Archy
stppd by the side of the young Seignioress. They
had hardly taken their places when two old. men,
ushered in by the majordomo Jose, advanced towards
the Seignior d'Haberville, and saluting him with that
graceful courtesy, so natural to the Canadians of old,
sudced permission to plant a may-pole before his door.
Tjhe permission being granted, the ambassadors with-
drew and communicated the success of their mission

112

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

to the crowd outside. They then all knelt down to
ask God to preserve them from all accidents during
the day.* Then, in about a quarter of an hour's time,
the may-pole rose slowly and majestically above the
crowd, till its verdant head towered above all the
surrounding buildings. A few minutes sufficed to
make it firm.

A second shot announced another d< putation, the
same two old men carrying their guns, and accom-
panied by two of the principal habitanti:^ bearing, the
one Oil an earthenware plate, a small glass two inches
high of a greenish hue, and the other a bottle of brandy,
were ushered in by the indispensable Jos6, and begged
of Mons. d'Haberville to come and receive the may-pole
he had been so kind as to accept. Upon their Sei-
gnior gracefully accepting their invitation one of the
old men added :

" Would our Seignior be pleased to water the may
before blackening it ?"

And upon this, he presented him the gun with one
hand, and with the other a glass of brandy.

" We will water it together my good friends" said
Mons. d'Haberville, making a sign to Jos§, who
standing at a respectful distance with four glasses
filled with the same liquor on a salver, handed it to
them. Then the Seignior rising, touched glasses with
the four deputies, swallowed at one gulp the glass of
brandy which he pronounced excellent, and taking
the gun went to the door followed by all who were
present.

As soon as the Seignior d'Haberville appeared on
the threshold, a young man, mounting to the very top
of the may-pole with the agility of a squirrel, spun
the vane round three times, crying out : " Long live the
King ! long live Seignior d'Haberville ! " And all
the crowd shouted at the top of their voices : " Long

* This pious custom or the habitants ofsaying a prayer before beginning any
work 'Which exposes them to danger such as putting on the roofoi a house,
&ti., exists to this day. It is a touching sight to see them all uncover their
heads and kneel down, whilst some old man recites prayers, to which all
make response.

inn

MAY-DAY.

118

live the King! long live the Seignior d'Haberville !"
Whilst this was going on, the young fellow descended
with equal agility, cutting away with his tomahawk
which ho drew from his belt, all the wedges and
stakes of the may-pole.

As soon as the Seignior d'Haberville had blackened
*^e may-pole by firing ofl' at it his gun charged only
with powder, a gun was presented to every member of
the family in succession, commencing by the Seignio-
ress ; and the women fired at it the same as the men.*
Then there was a constant firing kept up for at least
half an hour. One might have thought that the manor-
house was attacked by the enemy. The uitfortunate
may-pole, which had been so white before this
furious attack, seemed to have been suddenly painted
black, so great had been every one's zeal to do it
honor. Indeed, the more powder was burned, the
more they thought they were complimenting the one
to whom they had presented the may-pole.

As every pleasure must come to an end, even that
of throwing powder to the winds, Mons. d'Haberville
profited by a moment when the firing seemed to
slacken, to invite all present to breakfast. Every
one then made haste to discharge his gun by way of
a temporary adieu to the poor tree, fragments of which
already strewed the ground ; and then all was silent f

The Seignior, the ladies and a dozen of the princi-
pal habitants, chosen from the older ones, sat down
to a table prepared in the usual dining-room of the
family This table was covered with the dishes,
Tvines, and coffee which usually were to be found on
the breakfast table of a Canadian in the best society ;
there were also added to suit the taste of their guests,
two bottles of excellent brandy and sugared galettes
instead of bread.|

* The Canadian women who were constantly exposed to surprisab from
the Indians knew well how to make use of fire-arna when there was any
necessity for so doing. ,

t This custom, of disfiguring the may-poles, still existed during the
author's childhood ; but it ceased when the habitants substituted for them,
the handsome eight-sided ones of which tbete are still some few rtemaiMiay.

t One has to beg and pray for bread at a rich habitant's table if it iatht

■m

[.'•t. .

114

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

The guests who were excluded from this table, saw
no reason to be discontented at this arrangement, on
the contrary they were proud of the attentions bes-
towed on their older relations and friends.

The second table in the adjoining room, presided
over by *' my uncle Raoul," was served like that of a
rich and ostentatious habitant under similar circum-
stances. Besides the enormous number of dishes of
meat witli which the reader is already acquainted,
each guest had by his side the inevitable sugared
galettCj a croquecignole, a tartlet of five inches in dia-
meter, with more paste than preserve, and as much
brandy as they could wish for. There were some
bottles of wine on the table to which no one paid any
attention ; " that does not rasp ones throat enough,"
they said in their forcible language. This wine had
been put on the table more for the women, who just
then were occupied in waiting on the men, but would
replace them after they had left. Josephte took a
glass or two of wine, without being asked twice ; but
this was after the accustomed little glass of brandy to
give them an appetite.

At the third table, which was spread in the large
kitchen, Jules presided, assisted by his friend Archy.
This table at which all the young fellows had seated
themselves, was served exactly like my uncle Raoul's.
Although at the two first tables, the greatest merri-
ment reigned, there was nevertheless a certain res-
traint ; but at the young Seignior's, more especially
towards the end of the meal, which was prolonged
late into the morning, there was such an uproar that
they could not he ar themselves speak.

The reader is under a great mistake if he thinks
that the unhappy may-pole was allowed to repose
itself after the murderous assaults already made on it ;
the guests kept getting up from table, and running to
discharge their guns, hastened to replace themselves
at table after this little act of courtesy.

day of a wedding or any other rejoicing, the answer always is ''But
sir^ suiely gaiitte is better than bread.''

MAY-DAY.

115

At the beginning of the dessert, the Seignior d'Ha-
berville, accompanied by the ladies, visited the guests
of the second and third tables, where they were re-
ceived with great demonstrations of joy. There was
a kind word for every body ; the Seignior drank to
the health of his tenants, the tenants drank to his
health and that of his family, in the middle of at least
twenty gunshots that were neard sounding from with-
out.

This ceremony ended, Mons. d'Haberville, on
returning to the table was asked for a little song, and
every one prepared to join in the chorus.

The Seignior iTHaberviUe^s song.

Ah ! is not wine :

Wine, wine, wine
A fine and rare invention !
To satisfy my pasffiou
Let us drink its juice divine :
Shame to him who will not sip
Nor press the nectar to his lip :

Lip, lip, lip ;
Shame to him who will not 4ip
Hot press the nectar to his lip !

For when I steep :

Steep, steep, steep
My throat in this bewild'ring draught.
It seems into my heart to wafl
A joy that makes it madly leap :
Shame to him, who will not sip
Nor press the nectar to his lip !

Lip, lip, lip ;
Shame to him who will not - tp
Nor preiis the oectar to his lip ! *

This song was hardly finished, when ancle RaouPs
sonorous voice was heard singing the following :

Ah i ye?, I dearly love a glass :

A mania 'tis with me :

My word for this I frankly pass ;

My lolly all may see :

A toper leads a lite divine

Need never feel uneasy ;

May gaily toast the gba of wine

Ana always take life easy.

* The author thought he ought to record some of the old drinking songs,
which were sung in his childhood ; many of these songs, recall the merry
makings, wiiich alas t too oAen degenerated into excesses, and to whico
tke temperance societies have happily put an end.

116

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

I "i-w

Ah ! yes, I dearly love a glaM,

A mania 'tit with me ;

My word for this I frankly paaa:

My folly all may aee.

To the war let Joseph go

And bravely in the batile utand.

The only strile I luve to know

la one that's luiiglii with glass in hand.

Ah ! yes, I dearly love a glass, &o.

" It is now your turn, our young Seignior, they ex-
claimed at the third table ; our elders have set us the
example ! "

" With all my heart, said Jnles ; and he entoned
the following song :

Bacchus, seated on a cask,
Forbade me evermore to ask,
Water from the well or spring.
<Tis of wine, new wine alone,
Ev'ry bottle we must empty ;
<Tis of wine, new wine alone ;
Ev'ry flagon we must empty.

Nor King, nor Emperor of France,
Will ever have the happy chance
Of drinking a full bumpier.
*Ti8 of wine, new wine alone>
Ev'ry bottle we must empty ;
*Tia of wine, new wine alone ;
Ev'ry flagon we must empty.

Whilst they spin, the dames and lasses,
The men and youths shall quaflf their glasses ;
And they shall drink full bumpers.
'Tisofwine, dec.

The noble amphitryons having once set the example,
every one hastened to profit by it, and songs suc-
ceeded each other, with ever increasing excitement.
That of the pdre Chouinardy (an old French soldier,
who had retired from the service) in which love
played a conspicuous part, without at all neglecting
his brother Bacchus, met with the greatest success.

P^e Chouinard^s song.

Between Paris and Samt-Denis (bis)

1 met a pretty girl

At the door of a cabaret,

And with her I went in.

MAYDAY.

117

HoiteM draw ui aome good wine ;
The beat in the cellar ;
And if we cannot pay you now,
We'll promise you • pledge.

(bia)

But what pledge will you promise me 7 (bia)
A fine large scarlet cloak
To cut up into petticoats
And give to the youngsters.

Oh 1 Sir and Ma'am please to walk up, (bis)
Into the room above :
And there you'll find to wait on yoa
iJome pretty German girls.

German Girls ! I'll none of them :
I will have none but French,
Who alwaya have such merry heart*
When filling up our glass.

And all the men's voices from three tables repeated
in chorus :

I will hare none but French,

Who always have such merry hearts,

When filling up our glass.

The pdre Chouinard having succeeded in putting
an end to this gallant demonstration and having
obtained a moment's silence, suggested that it was
time to disperse. In warm terms, he thanked the
Seignior d'Haberville for his hospitality, and proud of
tke success of his song, he proposed to drink anew to
the health of the ladies of the manor-house, which
proposition was hailed with enthousiasm by the
numerous guests.

The joyous party then marched off singing " I will
have none but French " to the nccompaniment of gun-
shots, which the echoes from the cape repeated
long after their departure.

118

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

CHAPTER IX.

— ;$i&$>-

THE FEAST OF ST. JOHN BAPTIST.

Formerly every parish kept the feast-day of its patron
saint. The holyday of St. John the Baptist, the patron
saint of the parish of St. Jean-Port-Joli, which fell
during the finest season of the year, dit not fail to
attract a great concourse of pilgrims, not only from
the neighborhood, but also from great distances. The
Canadian habitants generally so much occupied with
their rustic labors, had just, at that time, a little
leisure, and the fine weather tempted them to profit
by it. In every household there were great prepa-
rations for this solemn festival. Every where there
was house-cleaning and while-washing going on, as
well as scrubbing the floors and covering them with
boughs of spruce ; the " fatted calf" was killed,
and the storekeepers had good sale for their liquors.
On the 23rd June, the eve of St. John the Baptist,
every house from the manor house and presbytery
downwards, were filled with numerous pilgrims.

It was the Seignior who presented the " blessed
bread" and selected from among his friends, two
young ladies and two young gentlemen, (who were
invited from Quebec a long time previously) to make
the collection during the high mass which was cele-
brated in honor of the patron saint of the parish. It
was no slight matter preparing the " blessed bread "
and its accessory cousins, (a kind of cake) for the
crowds who thronged, not only within the edifice, but
also without, for the doors were all thrown open, so
as to allow every one to participate in .the holy
sacrifice.

THE FEAST OP ST. JOHN BAPTISTE.

119

It was an understood thing that the Seignior and
his friends should dine that day at the presbytery, and
that the cure and his friends should sup at the manor
house. A great number of the habitants, whose homes
were too distant to return to between mass and
vespers, took their meal in the little wood of cedar,
fir and spruce which covered the valley, between the
church and the river St. Lawrence. Nothing could
be more picturesque than these groups, seated on the
moss or the cool grass, around table-cloths of dazzling
whiteness, which were spread on this carpet of verdure.
The cure and his guests never failed to visit these
groups, and exchange some words of friendship with
the leading members of them.

On every side there were little booths, like wigwams,
covered with branches of maple, and various other
trees, where refreshments were sold. The vendors
kept continually crying out in a monotonous voice,
strongly accenting the first and last words " A la
bonne biere ! au bon raisin ! a la bonne pimprenelle ! "
(good beer ! good grapes ! good peppermint !) And
fathers and lovers, excited by the occasion, slowly
drew forth, from their pockets, the wherewithal to
regale the children and the " creatures."

The country Canadians had inherited from their
norman ancestors a very touching custom ; it was that
of lighting a bonfire at nightfall on St. John's Eve.
An octagonal pyramid, of about ten feet in height,
was erected opposite the principal entrance to the
church ; this pyramid, covered with branches of fir,
stuck into the interstices of the logs of cedar of which
it was built, had & very picturesque effect. The cur§,
accompanied by his clergy, issuing from the church-
door recited the usual prayers, blessed the pyramid
and with a taper lighted one of the little heaps of straw
which were placed at each of the eight corners of the
verdant cone. The flamme then rose sparkling, amidst
joyous cries, and the spectators, firing off" guns, did not
disperse, till the whole pile was entirely consumed.

Blanche d'Haberville, her brother Jules and Lo-

120

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

cheill did not fail to be present at this joyous cere-
mony, as well as ' my uncle Raoul,' upon whom it wau
incumbent to represeait his brother, detained at home
by the rites of hospitality. An ill-natured person,
looking at poor dear uncle Raoul leaning on his sword
and standing a little in advance of the others, might
perhaps have been tempted to compare him to the
deceased Vulcan of limping memory, particularly
when the blaze of the burning logs lit up all his
person with a purple hue ; still, this did not prevent
him thinking himself the most important personage
present.

There was another most powerful reason for ' my
uncle Raoul ' being present at the bonfire, and this
was that it was the day for the public sale of salmon.
On that day every habitant, who had a fishery, took the
first salmon he had caught, and sold it at the church
door, for the benefit of the good souls ; that is to say
he caused masses to be said for the deliverance of the
souls in purgatory, with whatever money it fetched.
As the crier announced the object to which the money*
realised was to be applied, every one did his best to
bid up the price of the fish. There is nothing more
beautiful that this communion between catholics, and
those of their kindred and friends that death has taken
from them, their solicitude extending even to the
invisible world. Our brethren of other forms of wor-
ship, like ourselves, shed bitter tear over the grave
that hides those dearest to them on earth from their
view ; but there cease their tender cares !

When I was a child, my mother always made me
finish my prayers with this appeal to tho divine mercy ;
" Oh ! my God ! grant that my grandfather and grand-
mother may attain to thy holy paradise ! " I was
then praying for relations who were unknown to me,
and but few in number ; alas ! now, at the end of a
long career, how many should I not he obliged to add

1^ Thi* custom, which was formerly so prevalent, has not yet fallen quite
into disuse ; by way of thanking God fo; their prosperity, our habitants stiil
sell the first fruits of their land at the door of the church (when the congre-
gation is coming out) and apply the proceeds as already mentioned.

THE FEAST OF ST. JOHN BAPTIST.

121

to the li t, were I to enumerate all those dear ones,
who are now no more !

Night had long closed in, when ' my uncle Raoul^'
Blanche, Jules and Locheill left the presbytery where
they had been supping. The poor dear uncle who
had some smattering of astronomy, explained the
wonders of the ethereal vault to his niece whom he
was driving in his carriage, but the youg men did not
profit much by these treasures of astronomical science
to the great disgust of the extempore professor, who
taxed then with slyly spurring on their steeds who
were far more rational than their riders. The young
men, full of life, and drinking in enjoyment at every
pore, on this magnificent evening, in the midst of the
forest, excused themselves as they best could, and
then recommenced their tricks, in spite of reiterated
signs from Blanche, who, loving her uncle dearly,
tried to avoid everything that might displease him.
The way home was indeed the more agreeable, for the
royalty road winded through woods, which, from
time to time, intercepted their view of the St. Lawrence,
(whose sinuous course they followed,) till an opening
again disclosed to them its silvery waves.

At one of these glades, which gave to view the
whole panorama from Cape Tourmente to Malbaie,
Locheill could not restrain an exclamation of astonish-
ment, and addressing my uncle Raoul said :

" Will you, sir, who explain so well the wonders
of the heavens, be pleased to cast your looks earth-
ward, and tell me the meaning of all those lights
appearing simultaneously on the north coast, as fas as
the eye can reach ? Faith ! I begin to believe our friend
Josh's legend ; Canada seems indeed to be the land
of the imps, goblins, and genii with which my nurse
rocked my infancy in the Scoth mountains.

" Ah," said my oncle Raoul, " let us stop a moment
here ; those are the folks on the north coast, who, on
St. John's Eve, write to their friends and relations on
the south coast. They use neither ink nor pen to
give their news ! Let us begin by Les Eboulement^ ;.

122

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

eleven adults have died in that parish since the
autumn, three of whom were in the same house, that
of my friend Dufour ; the amall-pox or some other
malignant disease, must have visited the family, for the
Dufours are fine men, and in the prime of life ! The
Tremblays are well, I am glad of that, for they are
good people. There is some one ill at Bonneau^s,
probably it is the grandmother, for she is very aged.
There is a child dead at Belair's ; I think it was their
only one, for they have not been very long married."

My uncle Raoul went on thus for some time, as-
certaining how his friends were at Les Eboulements,
He aux Coudres, and the Little River.

" I think I understand," said Lochelll, " without
however having the key to it ; these are signals which
are previously agreed upon, and by which the habi-
tants communicate interesting intelligence from one
shore of the river to the other."

" Yes," replied my uncle Raoul, " and if we were
on the north shore we should see similar signals from
the south shore. If the fire which is once lighted, or
which is being fed, burns for a long time without
being extinguished, it is good news ; if it burns with
a half smothered flame, it is a sign of sickness ; if it
is at once extinguished il is a ; sign of death. So
many times as it is suddenly extinguished, so many
deaths are there. For an adult there is a large

blaze ; for a child, a small one. The means of com-
munication being somewhat rare even in summer, and
ertirely suspended daring the winter, man, with his
usual ingenuity, has invented a very simple substitute.

" The same signals," continued my imcle Raoul,
" are known by all sailors, who in cases of shipwreck
make use of them to communicate their distress. No
later than last year, five of our best hunters would
have died of hunger, on the Loup-Marins flats, but for
their knowledge of this code of signals. Towards the
middle of March, there was so sudden a change of
weather as to give every reason to believe that spring
had arrived. The ice disappeared from the river,

i..,./|.

THE FEAST OF ST. JOHN BAPTIST.

123

and the bustards, wild geese, and ducks, made their
appearance in great numbers. Five ofour hunters, well
furnished with provisions (for our climate is trea-
cherous in Canada) started for the flats ; the bustards
were in such abundance, that they left their provisions
in the boat, which they hastily tied opposite the hut,
so as to hasten to take their station in the channel where
they had to bore before the ebbing of the tide. I
suppose you know that what is called boring^ is
digging a ditch in the mud, about three or four feet
deep, in which the hunter conceals himself in order to
be in wait for the game which is very shy, more
particularly the bustard and wild goose It is not a
very agreeable sport, for often you have to remain
seven or eight hours crouching down on your heels
in these holes, accompanied by your dog. You are
in no want of something to kill the time, for in some
places you have lo be perpetually emptying out the
muddy water, which threatens lo drown you.

" All was ready, and our sportsmen were looking
forward to being amply recompensed for their dis-
comforts at the rising of the tide, when all at once
there arose a fearful storm. Tiie snow driven by the
wind, fell so thick that the hunters could not see the
game at three fathoms distance from them. Our
friends having patiently waited until the rising of the
tide drove them from their trenches, returned to their
hut, sorely against their will. A sad sight awaited
them; their boat had beon carried away by the
tempest, and the only provisions remaining for the
five men, consisted of one loaf and a bottle of brandy,
which they had placed in their hut on their first
arrival, so that they might be able to take a glass and
a mouthful of bread, before starting on their chase.
They held a council and determined to lay down
without supper ; the snow storm might last three days,
and it would be impossible for them there, midway
between the two shores, (at least three leagues from
either) to make their signals of distress visible to
those on land. They were therefore obliged to eco-

124

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

'fei ':

nomizc tlicir food. Alas ! they were completely out
in their reckoning ; there ensued a regular second
winter, the cold became intense, the snow storm
lasted a week, and at the expiration of that time the
river was covered with ice as in January.

" They then began lo make signals of distress
which were indeed seen from both shores of the St.
Lawrence, but it was quite impossible to send help.
To the signals of distress, there succeeded those of
death. Every evening the tire was lighted and then
extinguished ; the death of three of the cast-aways
had already been thus registered, when some of the
habitants touched with compassion, attempted, at the
peril of their lives, everything that could be done by
brave and self-devoted men. It was all in vain ; the
river was so covered with ice that the stream carried
the canoes either to the north-east or to the south-west,
following the flow and ebb of the tide, without taking
them any nearer to the scene of the disaster. It was only
on the seventeenth day that they received succor from
some men of the Ile-aux-Coudres, who bad managed to
bring up their canoe there. On their arrival, the
habitants not hearing any sound in the hut, concluded
that all the hunters must be dead. However they
were all alive, though quite exhausted. After the
usual means had been resorted to, to revive them, they
were soon on their legs again, but they all determined
(though somewhat too late) that another time when
they landed on an island, even in the summer, the first
thing they would do, would be to place their boat out
of all danger from the tide." (a)

My uncle Raoul having spoken at some length,
ended, like every one else, by being silent.

" Do you not think, my dear uncle," said Blanche,
" that this fine calm evening, a song would add
much to the charm of v.ar drive, by the side of the
prince of rivers ?

" Oh yes, a song ! " said the young men.

This was taking the chevalier on his weak side.
He did not need to be asked twice, and sang with

THE FEAST OF ST. JOHN BAPTIST.

135

his magnificent tenor voice the following song, which
was a particular favorite of his, as he had been a
noted sportsman before he was wounded. Although
(as he ackiiowledged) it sinned against the niles of
versification, he contended that its lively pictures and
great originality more than compensated lor its faults.

My uncle Eaotd^s song.

Whilst late at eve I wander'd forth
Along a thicket's hidden path,
Chasing the partridge and the snipe
Through this charming wood,
I thought amidst the rushes
I might take aim ;
In readiness I held my gun
To shoot at one.

To the warning voice I listene'd
Of my dog, the h inter's friend.
On I went, and aloud I cried
Those rushes beside ;
Soflly and tenderly I sang
Whilst going my rounds.
Descrying whim I there did rove
A quarry of love.

I saw a damsel of beauty rare

Within that wood so fair,

By the way-side she was sitting

Gently reposing ;

I, just then, let off my gun

Close to my fair one.

With startled scream the sound she greeted

Which the woods repeated.

My own sweet heart, I said to her.
Quite gently thus, I spoke to her,
1 am but a brave hunter
Of me, pray hawB no fear.
On seeing you, my lovely one
Here all alone,

I would your trusty guardian be
And treat you tendierly.

Oh ! soothe my fears awhile I pray,
And my alarm, oh ! chase away.
The night has me o'ertaken here,
I've wander'd far and near.
Show me I pray the nearest road
To my nistic abode.
For 'mthout you, from hence, dear Sir,
Alive 1 could not stir.

126

THE CANADIANS OF CLD.

Fair one ! let me take your hand

CloM 'ly doth the Village stand,

I can do you, this slight rieasure

For I have leisure ;

But before you haste away

My pretty one,

W iir you not please to grant me this

Just one, sweet kiss?

To refuse you, would be hard,

For you ment a reward,

Take then two or even three

As best (ileaseth thee :

You succor'd me so cneerfully

Such service gavt

That too much honor 'twas for me.

Farewell, .... heartily I

" The devil !" said Jules " Sir Knight, you go
right into the thing ! I would bet any money that you
were a terrible fellow among the women in your
young days, and must have made many victims !
come, my dear uncle, am I not right ? do pray tell us
some of your deeds of prowess."

*' Ugly, ugly, my dear fellow " replied my uncle
Raoul bridling up, " but I took amongst the women."

Jules was going to continue in the same strain, but
seeing the looks of entreaty directed towards him by
his sister, who was biting her lips to prevent laughing,
he repeated the end of the last verse :

You succor'd me so cheerfully.
Such service save
That too much honor, 'twas for me.
Farewell, .... heartily.

The young men were going on singing in chorus,
when on arriving at a clearing, they perceived a fire
burning in the wood, at a short distance from the
road.

" It is the witch of this domain " said my uncle
Raoul.

" I have always forgotten to ask why she is
called the witch of this domain " said Archy.

" Because she has established her favorite domicile
in these woods, which were formerly on the d'Haber-
ville estate," replied my uncle Raoul, " my brother

THE FEAST OF ST. JOHN BAPTIST.

127

has exchanged it for the present domain, in order to
be nearer his mill at Three-Salmons."

" Let us go and pay a visit to poor Mary," said
Blanche, " in my childhood she used every spring
to bring me the earliest flowers of the forest, and the
first strawberries of the season."

My uncle Raoul made some objections on the
score of the lateness of the hour, but as he could
never refuse his charming niece anything, they
fastened their horses at the entrance of a copse and
approched the sorceress.

Poor Mary's dwelling did not in any respect re-
semble that of the sybil of Cumes, nor that of any
other sybil ancient or modern. It was a log hut,
the beams unfinished and hung within with moss of
different colors, whilst, without, its conical roof was
covered with birch-bark and branches of spruce.

Mary, seated at the door of the hut on a fallen tree,
was watching some meat cooking in a frying pan,
which she held over a fire that was surrounded by
stones to prevent it from spreading. She paid no
attention to the visitors, but according to her usual
custom, went on with a conversation she had com-
menced with an invisible being, behind her, to whom
she kept repeating incessanay making gestures as if
driving it away sometimes with her right hand and
sometimes with her left, which she shook behind her :
** go ! go ! it is you who are bringing the Englishman
to eat up the Frenchman !"

" Now then ! prophetess of ill omen," said my
uncle Raoul " when you have finished talking to the
devil, will you be so kind as to tell me, what is the
meaning of this menace ? "

" Come now Mary " added Jules " tell us, do you
really believe that you are talking to the devil ? You
may be able to impose on the habitants ; but you ought
to know that we do not believe in such folly."

*' Go ! go ! " continued the witch making the same
gesticulation, " it is you, who are bringing the
English to eat up the French."

128

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

" she loves

r will speak to her" said Blanche
mc and will answer me, I am sure."

Then approaching her, she placed her hand on the
old woman's shoulder and said in her sweetest voice :

" Do you not know me, my good Mary ? Do you
not recognise your little seignioress, as you used to
call me when I was a child ?"

The poor woman broke off her monologue, and
looked with affection on the beautiful young girl.
Even a tear stood in her eye without being able to
flow, there were so few of them in that fevered and
ever-scorching head ! (6)

" My dear Mary " said Mile. d'Haberville " why
do you lead this wild and wandering life ? Why do
you live in the woods, you the wife ofarichil^abtton/,
the mother of a numerous family ? Your poor little
children brought up by strangers, have much need of
their own good mother ! After the f&te I will come
for you with mama and we will take you home : she
will speak to your husband, who still loves you ;
you must be very unhappy !"

The poor woman bounded on her seat ; and her
eyes flashed fire, whilst erect and white with anger,
she exclaimed looking at those present.

" Who dares speak of my woes ?

" Is it the beautiful young lady, the pride of her
parents who will never be either wife or mother ?

** Is it the rich and noble young lady brought up
daintily, who will soon like me have no shelter but a
hut ? Woe ! woe .! woe !" She rose suddenly and as
she was darting into the forest exclaimed anew,
on seeing Jules much affected.

" Is it indeed Jules d'Haberville who weeps over
my woes ?

" Is it indeed Jules d'Haberville the bravest of the
brave, whose bloody corpse I see dragged along the
plains of Abraham .?

" Is it indeed he who waters with his blood my
country's last glorious battle field ? Woe ! woe !'*

" It grieves me much to see this poor woman,"

THE FEAST OP ST. JOHN BAPTIST.

120

said Lochiell, as again she turned to dart into the
thiokct.

She heard what he said, and returning for the last
lime, crossed her arms, and said to him with a bitter
calmness :

" Keep your pity for yourself, Archibald Lochiell,
the witch of this domain has no need of your pity !
Keep it for yourself and for your friends ! Keep it lor
yourself, when, forced to execute a barbarous order,
you shall tear with your nails that breast, which
nevertheless covers a noble and generous heart.
Keep your pity for your friends, oh Archibald Lochiell !
when you shall apply the incendiary torch to their
peaceiiil dwellings ; when the old men, the sick, the
women and children, shall flee before you like sheep
before a raging wolf ! Keep your pity ; you will have
need of it, when you shall carry in your arms the
bleeding corpse of him you call brother ! oh ! Ar-
chibald Lochiell ! I feel one great sorrow, that of not
being able to curse you ! Woe ! woe ! woe !"

And she disappeared in the forest.

'* May an Englishman choke me " said my uncle
Raoul, " if mad Mary is not the very model of all the
sorceresses sung by both ancient and modern poets ;
she must have got out of bed the wrong way for she
is generally so polite and gentle with us."

AH agreed that they had never heard her speak in
this strain before. They went the rest of the way in
silence, for though they paid no heed to her words,
they had nevertheless produced a feeling of sadness.
This little cloud however was soon dispersed on
arriving at the manor-house where they found a large

{►arty assembled. They could hear joyous shouts of
aughter even from the road, and the cape echoed
back the burden of the song.

Bring back your sheep fair shepherdess,
Fair shepherdess, your sheep.

The dancers had broken one of the links of the
round dance, and in every sense of the word ran over
9

ISO

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

the court of the manor-house in single file. They
surrounded the chevalier's carriage, again linked the
chain, and danced round several times, calling out
to Mile. d'Haberville : " Descend, fair shepherdess."
Blanche sprang lightly from the carriage, the
leader of the dance took possession of her and began
to sing.

The fairest of all we now behold
The faireat of all we now behold,
Within my own, her hand I hold
Within my own, her hund I hold ;
Too soon must end my happiness
Bring back your sheep, fair shepherdess,
Bring them back, oh ! bring them back
Your sheep, your sheep, fair shepherdess,
Bring them back, oh I bring them back
Fair shepherdess, your sheep.

They then danced round the chevalier's carriage
several times singing :

Bring them back, oh! bring them back
Fair shepherdess, your sheep.

They then broke the chain and all the joyous party
filed off into the house dancing and singing the
joyous burden of their song.

My uncle Raoul at length delivered from these
pitiless dancers, descended from his carriage as he
best could, and joined the rest of the party at the
refreshment table.

[^^^■r*;, ■

■I'r
ifi,

1 i

^Hm '■

^pM*;

THE GOOD GENTLEMAN.

Ill

CHAPTER X.

-<«^=

Tout homme qui, a qunrante ans, n'ett

EM misanthrope, n'a jamaitt aiiud les
ommes.

ClIAMrFORT.

J'ai el6 prodigieusement fier jusqu'i
quarante-cinq ana : mats le nalheur m'a
bien courbe et m'a rendu aussi humble
que j'etais fior. Ah ! c'est une grande
ecole (|ue le malheur ! j'ai appris a me
courber et a m'humiiier nous la main de
Dieu.

CHENEDOLLfi.

THE GOOD GENTLEMAN.

The two months that Jules was to pass with his
family, before leaving for Europe, had already ex-
pired, and the vessel in which he had taken his pas-
sage was to sail in a few days. Loehiell was in
Quebec, making preparations for a voyage of two
months, at the very least. An ample stock of provi-
sions was necessary, and Mons. d'HabervilU had en-
trusted the young Scotchman with providing them,
while Jules' mother and sister packed in the young
men's trunks all the delicacies that their thoughtfm
kindness could suggest . The nearer approached the
time of a separation which might be for ever, the more
attentive was Jules to his kind parents, whom he
hardly left at all. Still, he said to them one day :

" I have promised * the good gentleman,' as you
already know, to go and sleep at his house before
leaving for Europe ; I shall be back to breakfast here
to-morrow morning."

So saying, he took his gun and started in the di-
9*

wmmmmmmm.

ii2

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

ll ■•'

II ' .* ji

rection of the woods, as much for a little shooting, as
to make the road shorter.

Monsieur d'Egmont whom every body called ' the
good gentleman * lived at a little house, on the Three
Salmons River, about three-quarters of a league from
the manor-house. He lived there with a faithful old
servant, who had shared his good and evil fortunes.
Andrew Francoeur was of the same age as his master
and was also his foster-brother ; the companion of his
childish games, and in his riper years more his friend
and confident than his servant, Andrew had found it as
natural to attach himself to him, when oppressed by
the iron hand of misfortune, as when in happier days
he had followed him in his parties of pleasure, and
received the presents which his good and generous
master constantly heaped upon him.

* The good gentleman' and his servant were then
living on the income of a small capital, to which they
had both contributed. It might even be said that the
servant's share from his savings was larger than that of
the master accruing from a small income allowed him
by his family when he was living in France. Was it
honorable in Monsieur d'Egmont to live partly on
FrancoBur's savings ? every one will answer, no ; but
the * good gentleman' reasoned differently :

" I was formerly rich, I dispensed the greater part
of my fortune in obliging my friends, I bestowed be-
nefits on every body indiscriminately, and my noble
friends have only paid me with ingratitude. Andrew
is the only one who has showed any gratitude.,
Andrew is the only whose heart has proved noble ; I can
therefore without indelicacy unite my fortunes to his,
as I would have done with one in my own rank, if I
had been able to find one as generous as my servant ;
besides the whole will be for the survivor."

When Jules arrived, * the good gentleman' was
busy weeding a patch of lettuces in his garden.
Absorbed in his work, he did not see his young friend,
who leaning on the fence, looked at him in silence,,
and listened to his monologue.

THE GOOD GENTLEMAN.

188

" Poor insect !" said the good gentleman, " poor
little insect ! I have been unfortunate enough to hurt
you, and see the other ants who were formerly your
friends, rush on you to eat you up ! these little crea-
tures are then as cruel as men ! I will come to your
assistance ; and I thank you madam ants, for the
lesson, as I have now a better opinion of my own
species."

" Poor misanthrope !" thought Jules, " how much
he must have suffered, with so sensitive a mind !"

Then noiselessly withdrawing, he entered by the
garden gate.

Monsieur d'Egmont made a joyful exclamation on
seeing his young friend, and embraced him affection-
ately ; he had known him from childhood and loved
him as his own child. Although for the last thirty
years that he had lived on the d'Haberville estate, he
had steadily refused to go and, with his faithful servant,
live entirely at the manor-house, he nevertheless
paid frequent visits there, extending them frequently
to more than a week's duration, particularly in the
absence of other visitors ; for without positively avoid-
ing society, he had suffered too much in his relations
with men in his own class, to be able cordially to
take part in their noisy pleasures.

Although Monsieur d'Egmont was so poor he did
not fail to do a great deal of good ; he comforted the
afflicted, visited the sick, doctored them *vith hc^'js
with whose hidden viitues his botanical researches
had revealed to him ; and if his charities were not
abundant, they were distributed so cheerfully and with
so much delicacy, that the poor were more gratified
withthera than with the far more considerable ones
bestowed by many of the rich. They seemed indeed to
have forgotten his name for the sako ui bestowing on
him that of * the good gentleman.'

When Mon-iieur d'Egmont and his young friend
entered the house after a short walk round thie grounds,
Andrew placed on the table a dish of fine trout, and

134

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

.1
.1

another

chervil.

« It

of broiled wild pigeons covered with raw

is not a very expensive supper," said ' the
good gentleman,' " I caught the trout myself before
the door an hour ago, and Andrew shot the pigeons at
sunrise, in that dead tree at half a gun-shot's distance
from here ; you see without being a Seignior, I have
a fish pond and dove-cot on my domain. A salad of
lettuce dressed with cream, a bowl of raspberries, and
a bottle of wine will complete your supper, my friend
Jules !"

" And never have fish-pond and dove-cot furnished
a better meal to a huniTv^ sportsman," said the latter.

They had a very cheerful meal, for Mons. d'Egmont,
in spite of his great age, seemed to have resumed the
cheerfulness of his youth in order to amuse his young
friend. His i^onversation always amusing, was also
instructive, for he had associated much with men in
his youth, and had also found in study a solace in his
misfortunes.

" How do you like this wine .?" said he to Jules,
who, whilst eating like a wolf, had already swallowed
several bumpers.

" Excellent, on my honor."

" You are a connoisseur, my friend," answered
Mons. d Egmont, '* and if it i'- niethat age improves
men and wine, this wine ougii t be good, and I my-
self ought to have arrived atnevu r ion,for I am nearly
ninety years of age."

" Doubtless," said Jules, '* that is why you are
called ' the good gentleman.' "

" My son, the Athenians banished Aristoles, even
while calling him ' the Just.' But do not let us talk
of men but of wine, I seldom drink any myself, I
have learnt to do without that, as well as many other
luxuries that are not necessary to our well being, and
I still enjoy perfect health. This wine, which you
find so good, is older than you are ; its age is not
very great perhaps for a man, but it is great for wine.
Your father sent me a basket of it the day you were

THE GOOD GENTLEMAN.

18&

born, for he was so happy that he made presents to
all his friends. I have always taken great care of it
and only produce it on rare occasions like this. Your
health, my son, and success to your undertakings;
and promise me that when you return to New France,
you will come and sup with me and drink the last
bottle of this wine, which I will keep for you.

** You look at me with astonishment, you are think-
ing that, in all probability, I shall long before your
return have paid that last debt, which the most re-
luctant debtor owes to nature ! You are wrong, my
friend, a man like me never dies. But see, as we
have done supper, let us leave the table and go and
seat ourselves sub tegmine fagi, i. e. at the foot of
that splendid walnut tree, whose tufted branches are
reflected in the limpid waters of this charming river."

It was a magnificent evening, a few rays oi the
moon, then at its full, were playing in the stream at
their feet, and the ripple of the water was the only
sound that disturbed the stillness of this fine Cana-
dian evening. Monsieur d'Egmont remained silent
fcr some minutes, with his head leaning on his breast ;
and Jules, not wishing to interrupt his reverie, traced
geometrical figures with his finger in the sand.

" I have wished very much, my dear Jules," said
' the good gentleman,' " to converse with you before
your departure for Europe, and before you enter on
life. I know very well that other people's experience
is of but little use, and that every one must buy his
own ; but no matter, I shall at any rate have had the
satisfaction of opening my heart to you, that heart
which ought to have withered long ago, but which
still beats as warm as when I was the life of the gay
circle of my friends, half a century ago. You looked
at me with astonishment just now, my son, when I
told you, that a man like mc never dies, you thought
it was a metaphor, but I spoke in all sincerity. I
have so often on my knees prayed for death, that I
have ended by hardly believing in its existence. The
heathens made a divinity of it, doubtless this was to pray

136

THE CAN/-DIA^Te OF OLD.

to it in the time of great misfortune. If what physiology
teaches us is true, and our sufferings are occasioned
by the sensitiveness of our nerves, and proceed from our
whole organization, then, my son, I have suffered
enough to have killed fifty of the most robust men."

Again * the good gentleman' was silent, and Jules
threw some pebbles into the water.

•' See," resumed the old man, " this stream which
flows so peacefully at our feet ; in an hour, at the
most, it will join the more turbulent waters of the
large river, in whose vicissitudes it will partake, and in
a few days mingled with the waves of the Atlantic, it
will be the plaything of all those furious storms which
heave its waters up even to the clouds. Behold the
picture of our life ! Till now, your days have been
as peaceful as the waters of my little river, but very
soon you will be tossed on the broad stream of life,
and pass onwards to the dangers of that immense
ocean of humanity which overthrows all it meets
with ! I have known you from your birth, d'Haber-
• dlle, I have marked all the phases of your youthful
existence with an attentive eye, I have carefully
studied your disposition, and it is this that makes me
wish for the conversation we are now holding ; for
never was there a more perfect resemblance than
between your disposition and mine. Like you I was
by nature, good-hearted, sensitive, and generous even
to prodigality. How came it then, that these pre-
cious gifts which ought to have ensured me a happy
life, have been the cause of all my misfortunes ? how
comes it, oh my son ! that these good qualities, so
much prized among men, have risen up against me
to my ruin, like so many implacable enemies ? how
comes it, that like pitiless enemies they have cast me
down and rolled me in the dust ? It seems to me
however that I deserved a better fate. Like your-
self, I was bom of rich parents who idolised me, and
thus it was always easy for me to follow the dictates
of my benevolent nature. Like you, I only sought to
make myself beloved by all who surrounded me.

THE GOOD GENTLEMAN.

187

Like you, in my cliildiiood, I iiad pity on every thing
which I saw suffer ; on the insect that I had inad-
vertently wounded, on the little bird which had fallen
from its nest. I wept for the fate of the 'ittle ragged
beggar who told me his tale of woe ; I took off my
own clothes to cover him ; and if my parents, not
without bestowing some little scolding, had not in-
cessantly seen to my wardrobe, the son of the rich
Mons. d'Egmont would have been the worst clothed
of all the boys in the college where he boarded. It is
needless to add that, like yourself, my hand was
always open to all my companions : as they said, ' 1
kept nothing for myself.' After all, it is strange,"
continued the good gentleman closing his eyes as if
speaking to himself, " it is strange that I did not then
meet with any ingratitude from my young compa-
nions ? Is ingratitude the lot of the grown man ? Or
is it a snare which this charming human nature
spreads before the good-hearted, confiding, and gene-
rous child, in order the better to despoil him afterwards,
when it is better worth its while ? I cannot make this
out ; but still, no ! childhood and youth, cannot be so
depraved ! It would drive one to despair, to curse . * .

" And you Jules," resumed the old man after this
aside, " have you already met with ingratitude from
those you have been of use to, that despicable ingra-
titude which stupifies you, and pierces your heart
like a dagger ?"

" Never !" said the young man

" Then it must be self-interest, the natural conse-
quence of civilization which causes ingratitude ; the
more man stands in need of, the more ungrateful he
is. This recalls to my mind a little anecdote, for
which this is a fitting place. About twenty years
ago, a poor Indian of the Huron tribe, arrived at my
house in a most pitiable state (a). It was spring-time ;
he had had a long and toilsome walk, and had swam
across icy streams, when very warm, so that he had
a violent attack of pleurisy, accompanied by a most
alarming inflammation of the lungs. I saw that in

138

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

'■■ ' ■ ■if*:

k:.

bleeding him profusely lay his only chance of life.
I had never bled any one, and, with my penknife, I
made my first essay in the art of phlebotomy on this
man of nature. To be brief, herbs and assiduous
care operated a cure ; but the recovery was long, and
he remained two months at my house. At the end of
a short time, Andrew and myself were able to speak
the Huron tongue like natives. He told me that he
was a great warrior and a great hunter, but that
an immoderate use of brandy had been his ruin ; that
he had a large debt to pay, but that he would be
more steady in future. His thanks were as brief as
his farewell ; ' My heart is too full to speak long,*
said he, * a Huron warrior ought not to cry like a
woman ; thank you, my brothers.' And he plunged
into the woods.

" I had completely forgotten my Indian, when four
years afterwards, he arrived at my house in company
with another one. He was no longer the same man,
as the one I had seen in so pitiable a condition, he
was splendidly dressed and everything about him an-
nounced the great warrior, and the great hunter,
qualities which are inseparable among the natives of
North America. He and his companion deposited, in
the corner of my room, two packages of merchandise
of considerable value, for they consisted of the richest
furs, the most splendid mocassins embroidered with
porcupine quills, the most costly work in bark, and other
articles in which the Indians trade with us. I congratu-
lated him on the fortunate change in his circumstances.

" '■ Listen, my brother,' said he, * and pay attention
to my words. I owe you much, and I have come to
pay my debts. You saved my life, for you know good
medicine. You have done more, for you also know
the words which enter into the heart. From the
drunken dog I was, 1 have become the man that the
Great Spirit created. You were rich when you lived
on the other side of the Great Lake. This wigwam
is too small for you ; build one large enough for your
great heart. All these things belong to you.'

THE GOOD GENTLEMAN.

139^

" I was melted to tears at this primitive man^s act
of gratitude. In the course of a long life, I had then
met with two grateful men ; the faithful Andrew, my
foster-brother, and this poor child of nature, who, see-
ing that out of all his gifts I would only accept a pair
of mocassins, uttered his piercing cry houa^ striking
his mouth with three fingers, and started off full
speed, followed by his companion. In spite of my
enquiries, I have never been able to obtain any tidings
of him, since that time. Our good Cur6 undertook to
sell the goods, and the proceeds, as well as the inte-
rest of them, have been lately distributed to the Indians
of his tribe."

* The good gentleman' sighed, collected his thoughts
a moment, and then went on with his narration :

" I am now going, my dear Jules, to tell you of the
happiest and the unhappiest period of my life : five
years of happiness ! fifty years of suffering ! Oh, my
God ! for one day, only one day, of my joyous youth,
to make me forget all that I have suffered ! One day
of that delirious joy which seems as acute as phy-
sical pain. Oh ! for one hour, but one hour of those
hearty and stirring peals of laughter, which gladden
the heart, even to bursting, and which like a refresh-
ing draught from Lethe, efface every mournful me-
mory from the mind ! How light my heart was,
when surrounded by my friends, I presided at the
festive board ! One of those happy days, oh ! my
God ! when I believed in sincere friendship, when I
had faith in gratitude, when I knew nothing of in-
gratitude !

" When I had completed my studies, all careers
were open to me ; 1 had only to choose ; that of arms
seemed to be the most natural for a man of my birth ;
but it was repugnant to me to shed the blood of my
fellow creatures. I obtained a place of great trust in
a public office. With my disposition it was the road
to ruin. I was myself rich ; as my father had left me
a large fortune, and the emolument from my appoint-

140

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

ment being considerable, I rolled in the wealth that I
despised .

" I will not seek," said the good gentleman, strik-
ing his fore head with his two hands, " to palliate my
folly by charging others with my misfortunes ; ah !
no ! but it is certain that I should have been able to
meet my own expenses, but not those of my friends,
nor those of my friends' friends, who threw themselves
on me like famished wolves on an easy prey. I bear
them no ill-will, they only acted according to their
nature ; when a beast of prey is hungry, it devours
everything it meets with. Unable to refuse being of
use to them, my hand was never closed ; I became not
only their banker, but if they had need of a security,
of some one to endorse their bills, my signature was
at the service of every one of them. My dear Jules,
that was my great mistake, for I can say with truth,
that ninety-nine times out of a hundred, I have been
obliged, even when embarrassed myself, to liquidate
their debts out of my own pocket to save my credit
and avoid that ruin, which otherwise would have
been imminent. A great English poet has said :
" Neither lend nor borrow, if thou would'st keep
thy friends." My dear son, give in handfuls, since
you have an irresistible longing to do so, but at least
be careful of your signature ; you may be always
pressed for money, but you will escape the misfor-
tunes which for the last half century have embittered
my existence.

*' My private affairs were so mixed up with those
of my office, that I was some little time before I per-
ceived their alarming condition. When on looking
into my accounts I discovered the truth, I was thun-
derstruck. Not only was I ruined, but also there
was a considerable defalcation ! Bah ! I said to
imrself at last, what signifies the loss of my wealth !
of what consequence to me is the gold I have always
despised ! Let me pay my debts ; I am young, I
am not afraid of work, I shall always find enough of
it to do. Besides what need I fear } My friends

THE acOD GENTLEMAN.

141

owe me considerable sums, and when once they are
aware of ray financial difficulties, not only will they
hasten to liquidate their debts, but also if necessary
will do for me what I have so often done for them.
How foolish I was, my son, to judge of others by my-
self. I would have moved heaven and earth to have
saved a friend from ruin ; 1 would have made the
greatest sacrifices. How foolish and credulous I was,
those miserable men were right to laugh at me.

" I made out a statement of what I owed, of the
value of my property, and clearly saw that after get-
ting in what was owing to me, and selling my estates,
I should only owe a balance that with the help of my
relations I could easily pay. My spirits rose a^ lin.
How little I knew of men ! 1 imparted my diffi-
culties, in confidence, to those indebted to me. I told
them that I trusted in their friendship to keep the
thing quiet, that time pressed, and that I begged of
them to pay me what ley owed me as soon as pos-
sible. I found them as cool as I ought to have ex-
pected. Several to whom I had lent money without
taking any acknowledgment in writing, had even for-
gotten that they owed me anything ! Those whose
notes I held, told me that it was not very generous to
take them unawares, and that they would never have
expected it of a friend. The greater number of those
\vho had had any transactions at my office, impu-
dently pretended that I was their debtor. They were
right, I owed them a trifle, but they owed me consi-
derable sums. I asked them to come to a settlement,
they promised me to do so, but never did ; on the
contrary, they took pleasure in undermining my
credit by spreading the report that I wa.s ruined, and
that I had the face to ask payment of imaginary debts.
They did more ; they turned me into ridicule, saying
that I was an extravagant fool. One of them, who
six months previously had only been able to keep a
situation, (which he was nearly losing through com-
mitting a breach of confidence,) by means of the
pecuniary assistance I rendered him, and the secret

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

of wliicli will die with me, was for ever exercis-
ing his wit at my expense ; and his witticisms were
immensely successful among my old friends. This
last piece of ingratitude quite overwhelmed me.

There was but one, and that one a mere acquaint-
ance whom I had sometimes met in society, who
having got wind of my impending ruin, at once said
to me :

" ' We have had business together, and I bring
you what I think is the balance owing to you, look at
your books and see if it is all right.*

" He has long been dead, honor to his memory !
and may his children benefit by an old man*s
blessing !

" Time pressed, as I have said, and even if I had
had the heart to institute proceedings, nothing could
have saved me.

" The intrigues of both friends and enemies who
were eager to share in my spoils formed an addition
to my difficulties, and my at last giving way, was
only what might be expected. I could not face the
•storm any longer, so bowed my head, and resigned
myself to it.

" I would not wish, my son, to sadden your young
heart with the recital of all I have suffered, suffice it
to say that in the clutches of pitiless creditors, I drank
the cup of bitterness to its very dregs. Apart from
the ingratitude of my friends, I was not a man to
suffer much for myself individually. My natural
good spirits would not even have abandoned me
within the walls of the Bastille ; I could have danced
to the discordant music of its creaking bolts. But
my family ! my family, and oh ! that poignant re-
morse which haunts us by day, and chases away our
sleep by night, which gives us no truce nor rest and
gnaws at our very heart-strings. My opinion is, my
son, that with very rare exceptions, every one who
has the means, pays his debts ; the torments he en-
dures at the sight of his creditors being more than
sufficient to make him do so, without his being Rub-

THE GOOD GENTLEMAN.

jected to the rigor oC laws which are often made for
the rich to the detriment of the poor. Look into all
the codes of law, both ancient and mc> Jern, and you
will be struck with the barbarous egotism which
dictated them all. Can one indeed imagine a more
humiliating torture than that felt by a debtor in the
presence of his creditor ? generpUy some miserly
fellow, to whom he is obliged »o bow and scrape.
Can one imagine anything more humiliating than to
be obliged to be perjietualiy dodging to avoid meeting
a creditor ?

" One thing has always struck me : which is that
civilization warps man's powers of judgment, and
that as regards common sense, that strong common
sense, that one might expect to find in every civilized
being, (I except however the domestic animals edu-
cated in our families), the savage is very superior to
us. I will give you an amusing example. Some
years ago at New York, an Iroquois was seen con-
templating a vast edifice of sinister aspect ; its high
walls and barred windows puzzled him greatly : it
was a prison. Presently a magistrate entered on the
scene.

" * Will the pale-face tell his brother,' said the
Indian, * of what use this large wigwam is .-* '

" The citizen bridled up, and answered in a conse-
<iuential tone :

" * That is where we shut up the red-skins who
refuse to pay to the merchants the beaver skins which
they owe them.*

" The Iroquois examined the edifice with increasing
interest, went round it, and asked to be admitted
inside it. The magistrate, being likewise a merchant,
took good care not to refuse him, hoping to inspire
with salutary terror the other Indians, to whom this
one would not fail to relate the clever, as well as
ingenious, means that the pale-faces took to oblige the
red-skins to pay their debts.

" The Iroquois visited all the edifice with the most
minute care, descended into the cells, tried the depth

144

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

of the wells, listened attentively to the least noise he
heard ; and ended by saying with fits of laughter :

" ' But Indian not able to take beaver here ? '

" In five minutes the Indian had given the solution
of a problem which civilized man has not yet had the
sense, the plain common sense, to solve after centuries
of study. This simple and ignorant man, not being
able to believe that a civilized nation whose granu
inventions he admired, was capable of such an
amount of folly, had believed in all simplicity, that
subterranean canals had been excavated, which
communicated with those rivers and lakes that were
the richest in beaver ; and that Indians were incar-
cerated there, in order to give them greater facilities
for hunting these valuable amphibia, and thus the
quicker to satisf' their creditors. The walls and
iron gratings see to him to ha^e been necessitated
by prudence as a ^ ^tcction to these treasures.

" You understand, Jules, that I am now going to
speak to you, only in the interest of the creditor
who deserves both sympathy and pity ; and not in
that of the debtor, who after having wandered about
all day haunted by fearful misgivings, at night,
gnaws his pillow in despair after having watered it
with his tears.

*' I was young, only thirty-three, an age when life
has hardly begun ; I had talent, energy, and strong
trust in my own powers. I said to my creditors,
take all I possess, but do not exercise your right of
arrest ; leave me liberty of act "on, and I will do my
best to satisfy your claims. If you paralyze my
efforts, you do yourselves wrong. This plain reason-
ing was above the comprehension of civilized man ;
our friend the Iroquois would have imderstood it, he
would have said : ' my brother not able to take

* beaver, if the pale-face drives him out of his senses,

* and ties his hands.' Well ! my creditors paid no
heed to this reasoning which is easy enough to under-
stand ; and they kept this sword of Damocles sus-

THE GOOD GENTLEMAN.

146

pendcd over my head for thirty years, the time
allowed them by the laws of the country."

" But it was most amazinf^ly foolish f" exclaimed
Jules.

" One of them, however," continued the good
gentleman, smiling sadly at Jules' sally, " 1 say,
that one of them, who was delightfully ingenious m
conferring torture, took out a warrant for arresting
me ; and by a refinement of cruelty, worthy of a
Caligula, only executed it eighteen months after-
wards. Can any one imagine more fearful suffering
than that endured by a man surrounded by a numerous
family, who for eighteen months sees them tremble at
every sound they hear, and shudder at the sight of
every stranger believing him to be the bearer of an
order for the incarceration of the one dearest to them !
The only thing that astonishes me is, that we were
not quite overwhelmed with this weight of intense
suffering !"

" This state of suspense was so unbearable, that
twice I went to my creditor, begging him, for God's
sake, to make an end of the matter and put me in
prison. He did so, at last, but he took his own time.
I could have thanked him on my knees, I enjoyr d a
sort of negative happiness within my prison gate, in
defying the malice of man to inflict greater suffering
on me !

" During the first month of his captivity, a prisoner
experiences a singular want ; it is a feverish rest-
lessness, a continual necessity for locomotion !
During his meals, and even during the night he rises
to satisfy it, like a lion in its cage. May that noble
animal forgive me for comparing him to man ! He
only devours when he is hungry : and his hunger once
satisfied, h^is generous towards all the weak crea-
tures he meets with.

" After this trying time, this feverish restlessness,
after this death-cry of the man so lately free, I, in my
captivity, felt a tranquillity like that experienced by a
ssiilor who, busied in working a vessel during a fearful

i4e

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

Storm, only feels the shock of the last waves which
strike the ship after the tempest has ceased ; for
apart from the numberless vexations and humiliations
of captivity, and apart also from the grief which I felt
for my disconsolate family, I was certainly less
miserable. I thought I had swallowed the last drop
of bitterness in that cup of sorrow which the malice
of man is for ever holding to the fevered lips of his
brethren. I had not considered the hand of God
which now made itself felt by the madman, who was
the architect of his own misfortunes. Two of my
children fell so dangerously ill at two different
periods, that the doctors despairing of their lives,
told me each day that their end was approaching.
It was then that I felt the full weight of my chains.
It was then, that like the mother of Christ, I might
have exclaimed : " Behold and see if there is any
sorrow like unto mine ! " I knew my children were
dying, and I was only separated from them by the
width of the street. During those long sleepless
nights, I could see people moving about by their
bedsides, and the lights being carried from room to
room ; and every moment I dreaded to see these signs
of life disappear, for they announced to me that my
children still required being nursed with maternal
love. I am ashamed to acknowledge that I was
often so overcome by despair, that I was tempted to
dash out by brains against the bars of my window.
To know that my children were on their death-bed,
and not be able to fly to their succor, to bless them,
and press them in my arms for the last time !

" All this time my persecutor knew as well as I did
all that was passing in my family. Pity then is
extinct in the heart of man, to take refuge ir* the heart,
I was going to say, the soul of unreasoning animals !
The lamb bleats piteously when its companion's
throat is cut ; the ox roars with rage and grief when
he scents the blood of one of his own species ; the
horse snorts loudly, and utters that mournful neighing
which thrills through one, at the sight of his brother

THE GOOD GENTLEMAN.

147

writhing in the agonies of death ; the dog howls
plaintively during his master's illness ! But man
follows his brother to his last resting-place, whispering
and chatting of his business and relating amusing
stories !

" Lift up your head in pride, oh master of the
creation ! you have the right to do so ! Raise your
proud head to Heaven, oh man ! whose heart is as
cold as the gold you finger night and day ! Pelt
mud by handfuls at the man, who warm-hearted, with
strong passions, and blood burning like vitriol in his
veins, has erred in his youth ! Raise high your head
proud Pharisee, and say : * I have never erred ! *
Less forgiving than the Divine Master whom you
pretend to serve, and who pardons the repentant
sinner, take no heed of the sufferings which scorch
the heart like the burning wind of the desert, of the
wasting remorse which after fifty years of the strictest
probity, still gnaws the heart of him whose impetuous
passions have led him astray in his youth, and say :
* I, I have never erred !' "

The good gentleman clasped his breast with both
hand^, and kept silence for a short space of time, and
then exclaimed —

" Forgive me, my son, if carried away by the
remembrance of so much suffering, I have given
vent to my wrongs in all the bitterness of my heart.
It was only the seventh day after the arrival of his
friends, that the great Arabian poet Job, who sang of
so many sorrows, uttered this heart-rending cry : pereat
dies in qud natus sum ! I my son, have buried my
wrongs in the depths of my heart for fifty years !
forgive me then if I have spoken in all the bitterness
of my soul ; if soured by misfortune, I have calum-
niated all men alike, for there are many noble excep-
tions.

" As I had long before given up everything I pos-
sessed to my creditors, and all my movables and
immovables had been sold on their behalf, I pre-
sented petition upon petition to the king, in order to
10*

148

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

procure my enlargement after four years imprison-
ment. The ministers were of vipinion that all things
considered, I had suffered sufficiently, but a difficulty
arose, which was this : when a debtor has made an
honest and complete surrender of all he possesses,
and has sold all his movables and immovables,
does anything remain to him.?* It was a ticklish
question ! however after debating it a long time, they
decided in the negative, in spite of an argument three
hours long from a great mathematician, a fine speaker,
who undertook to prove that if two is paid out of two,
a small fraction will remain. So they ended by very
politely shewing me the door.

" My prospects being as completely destroyed as
my heart, I have since then only vegetated, without
being of use to myself, or to others.

" But now, my son, only see the ill-luck which pur-
sued me. When I gave up all my property to my
creditors, I asked of them as a favor, to let me still
enjoy an estate then of little value, but which I foresaw
would be very productive eventually ; promising
them to use every effijrt both morally and physically
to make the most of it for their benefit. Of course
they only laughed in my face, for there was beaver
to be taken there ! Well ! Jules, this same estate,
the sale of which at that time hardly covered the
costs of the proceedings, was at the end of ten years,
sold for an enormous price, which would more than
have liquidated all my debts, for of course people had
taken delight in exaggerating the amount in the
newspapers and everywhere ; but I was so dis-
heartened and broken down with the weight of my
disgrace, that I had not even the heart to appeal
against this injustice. When I was a little calmer, I
made out an accurate statement of my debts, and
they only amounted to one third of the mbulous sum
which had been reported.

" Europe was too thickly peopled for me ; I
embarked for New France with my faithful Andrew,
and I chose this solitary spot, where I should have

THE GOOD GENTLEMAN.

149

lived happily, if I could have drank of the waters of
Lethe. The ancients, who were our masters in all
that concerns the imagination, doubtless created this
river for the consolation of suffering humanity.
Having for a long time been imbued with the errors
of the sixteenth century, I exclaimed in my pride :
* Oh my fellow-men ! If I have had my share of your
vices, I have at any rate seldom found one amongst
you who possessed any of my virtues ! ' Religion,
our beneficent mother, has since then checked these
proud emotions and made me examine myself. I
have bowed myself beneath the hand of God, fully
persuaded that in following my natural inclinations,
I could claim no merit. •

" You are the first person, my son, to whom I have
ever related the history of my life, and I have sup-
pressed several painful episodes, for knowing how
tender your heart is, I have spared your feelings.
My end is gained ; and now let us spend part of the
evening with my faithful domestic, who will appre-
ciate your showing him this mark of attention before
your departure for Europe."

When they entered the house, Andrew was just
finishing arranging a bed on a sofa, which was the
result of the combined mechanical skill of master and
man. This piece of furniture, of which both were
very proud, had one leg shorter than the others, but
the inventive genius of Francoeur remedied this little
inconvenience by means of a small block of wood.

" This sofa," said the good gentleman, with a
well satisfied look, "cost Andrew and me more
calculation that it cost the great architect Perrault to
build the Colonnade of the Louvre, the pride of the
great monarch ; but to our honor, be it said, we
achieved it It is true that one leg presents arms to
all comers, but what piece of work is faultless !

" As for you, friend Francoeur, you ought to have
remembered, that a soldier was to sleep in this camp-
bed, and have left the leg, that you have propped up,
still presenting arms."

XiS,.

150

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

li 'is-

I it

I; 'J

Andrew did not much relish this joke, which ruffled
his artistic vanity a little, bat could not help laughing
at his master's tirade.

After spending a long evening, the good gentleman
presented Jules with a little silver candlestick of
exquisite workmanship :

" This, my dear boy, is the only thing left me by
my creditors of my former wealth ; perhaps it was
meant to charm my wakeful nights ! Good night,
my son, at your age one sleeps soundly ; I shall now
go and say my prayers beneath the vault of this
great temple, which always strikes me with awe by
announcing the power and grandeur of God, and
•when I shall again enter beneath my roof, you will
have long been in the arms of Morpheus."

So saying, he tenderly embraced him.

CHAPTER XI.

-^©^^

Snepe malum hoc nobis, si mens non laeva fuisset,
De ceelo tactas memini pracdicere quen-us.

VlKGILE.

MADAME d'hABERVILLe's LEGEND.

All was sad and silent in the d'Haberville manor-
house ; even the servants went about their duties with
a downcast look^ very different from their usual gaiety
when waiting on this good family. Madame d'Haber-
ville restrained hpi* tears so as not to distress her
husband, and Blanche hid herself to weep, so as not
to grieve her affectionate mother more than was neces-
sary, for in three days' time, the vessel in which the
young men had taken their passage, was to sail for

MADAME D'HABERVILLE'S LEGEND.

161

England. Captain d'Haberville had invited his two
friends, the cure and Mr. d'Egmonl, to a family dinner ;
it was a farewell dinner at which every one tried in
vain to be cheerful. The cure, a man with a great
deal of tact, thinking it was better to converse on
serious subjects than to be perpetually relapsing into
a painful silence, thus addressed them :

*' Do you know, gentlemen, that the horizon of New
France is growing darker every day. Our neighbors,
the English, are making formidable preparations to
invade Canada, and everything looks like an ap-
proaching invasion."

" What next," said my uncle Raoul !

" Whatever you like, my dear sir," answered the
ciire, " but it is very certain that we have not enough
troops to resist our powerful neighbors for long."

" My dear abbe," rejoined my uncle Raoul, " I
cannot help thinking that in reading your Breviary
this morning, you must have stumbled on a chapter of
the lamentations of Jeremiah."

" That accusation tells against yourself, for the
prophecies are accomplished."

" No matter," exclaimed the chevalier clenching
his teeth, " the English ! the English take Canada
in'leed ! faith, I would undertake to defend Quebec
wiih my crutch. You have forgotten then," continued
my uncle Raoul, getting excited, '* that we have
always beaten the English ; beaten them one against
five, one against Ion and sometimes one against
twenty The English, indeed !

" Concedo,^'' said the cure ; " I will grant every-
thing you wish, and even more if that will please
you ; but just take notice that each of our victories has
weakened us, whilst our enemy, thanks to England's
forethought, seems to take fresh strength, and that, on
the other hand, France is leaving us almost entirely to
our own resources.

))

" Which shews," said captain d'Haberville, " the
confidence which our well beloved king Louis XV
reposes in our abiliiy to defend his colony.

152

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

" In the meantime," broke in Monsieur d'Egmont,
" France sends us so few troops that the colony is
becoming weaker every day."

" Let them only gi»'e us powder and shot," replied
the captain, " and one hundred of my militiamen will
do more in our warfare of surprisals, ambuscade, and
reconnoitring, than five hundred picked men of the
French armv ; I do not speak unadvisedly, there are
plenty of p ..wfs of what I say. This however does
not prevent," he added feeling a little ashamed of the
tirade which he had uttered on the impulse of the
moment, " our being in great need of help from the
mother-country, and that a small portion of those
troops, which our beloved monarch is sending to the
north of Europe in order to help Austria, would be
quite indispensable for the defense of this colony."

" It would have been very desirable," put in the
good gentleman, " that Louis XV should have left
Maria Theresa to contend with Prussia, and have
neglected us less."

*' It is hardly becoming in a young man like me,"
said Locheili, " to take part in your grave discussion;
but history will come to my aid in default of experience.
Mistrust the English, mistrust a government which
has its eyes always open to the interests of its colonies,
and therefore to the interest of the British empire ;
mistrust a nation which has all the tenacity of the
bull-dog. If the conquest of Canada be necessary
to her, she will never lose sight of it, no matter at
what sacrifice : witness my unhappy country."
"Ah! Scotchmen indeed," exclaimed my uncle Raoul.

Locheili laughed.

" Gently, my dear uncle, gently," said the good
gentleman, " and to make use of a saying you quote
often enough when receiving the rents of the seigniory :
** Render unto Coesar, the things that are Caesar's ;"
I have studied the history of Scotland a good deal,
and I can assure you that the Scotch are not inferior in
valor and patriotism to any nation of the known
world, ancient or modern."

MADAME D'HABERVILLE'S LEGEND.

158

" Do you not see," replied the chevalier, " that I
only wanted lo vex my second nephew Locheill just
the least bit in the world, for thank God," he added
bridling up, '* 1 flatter myself I know something of
history. Archy well knows the high esteem in which
I hold his fellow-countrymen, and the praise I have
always awarded to their fiery courage.

" Yes, ray dear uncle, and I thank you for it," said
Archy pressing his hand. ** But distrust the English ;
distrust their persererance ; it is the dclenda est
Carthago of the Romans."

" So much the better ; " said Jules, " I thank them
for their perseverance, it will give m ; an opportunity
of returning to Canada with my regiment. What
would I not give to make my first campaign against
them here, in New-France ; on this soil which I love,
and where dwell all whom I love best on earth ! You
too shall return with me dear Archy, and in this
hemisphere you shall avenge all you have suffered in
your O'vn countiy."

" W th all my heart," exclaimed Archy, grasping
the bar die of his knife, as if he held the terrible
claymo -e of the Camerons of Locheill in his hand.
" 1 w^ili serve as a volunteer in your company, if I do
not get a commission ; and the simple soldier will be
•as proud of your exploits, as if he shared in them
more largely."

The young men grew excited at the thoughts of
future exploits ; Jules' black eyes flashed fire, and it
seemed as if the old military ardor of his race, had
suddenly blazed forth in him. The enthousiasm
became general, and the cry of " vive le roi " burst
simultaneously from all. Tears flowed from the eyes
of the mother, sist« and aunt, in spite of their efforts
to restrain them.

The conversation, which for a time had flagged,
now became suddenly animated. They laid plans
of campaigns, they beat the English by sea and by
land, and they raised Canada to the highest pinnacle
of glory and prosperity !

154

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

I i-

I ;-■

((

Fill your glasses," exclaimed captain d'Haber-
ville, pouring himself out a bumper, " for I am going to
propose a toast which every one will gladly drink :
" To the sueces of our arms ! and may the glorious
" fleur-de-lys banner float over all the citadels of New
" France, to the end of time ! "

Hardly had they raised their goblets to their lips to
do honor to this toast, when a frightful explosion
was heard ; it was like the bursting of a thunder-bolt,
or as if some massive body had fallen on the manor-
house, and had shaken it to its very foundations.
They hastily rose from table and ran out ; a brilliant
sun illuminated one of the finest of July days ; they
went up to the garret, but there were no signs of
anything having fallen on the building (a). Every one
was awe-stiuck, and more particularly monsieur
d'Haberville, who exclaimed : " Can it be that this
phenomenon foretells the fall of my house ! "

Monsieur d'Egmont, the abbe and my uncle Raoul,
the man of letters of the family, endeavored to explain
the physical causes of this phenomenon, but they did
not succeed in dispelling the painful feelings it had
given rise to.

They went into the drawing-room to take coffee
there, without lingering any longer in the dining-
room where the goblets were still standing untasted.

Events which afterwards happened only confirmed
the d'Haberville family in their superstitious fears.
Who can tell, after all, if theso warnings, which were
believed in by all antiquity, are not presages of some
great danger which is threatening us ! If we must
reject everything that is repugnant to our weak
understandings, we should soon become sceptics ;
sceptics not fit to live, like Moliere's Marphorius.

Who can tell ? A long chapter might be written

on " who can tell !"

The weather whicli all day along had been so fine,
began to cloud over about six o'clock in the evening ; at
seven o'clock a pouring vain began to fall in such
torrents as to seem to threaten a second deluge ; the

MADAME D'HABERVILLE'S LEGEND.

156

thunder shook the vaults of heaven, and an immense
fragment of rock was struck by a thunder-bolt, and
detaching itself from the promontary, with a loud
report rolled down into the royalty road, which for
several days it completely blocked up.

Captain d'Haberville, who for a long time had
fought in company with the Indian allies, had become
imbued with many of their superstitions ; and hence,
when he became a victim of the misfortunes which
overwhelmed so many Canadian families in 1769, he
did not fail to believe that these disasters had been
predicted to him two years previously.

Jules, who at supper was seated between his
mother and sister, holding their hands in his, shared
in the depression of the whole family. In order to
make a diversion, he asked his mother to relate one
of those legends which used to interest him so much
when he was a child.

" It seems to me, mama, that it will be one mor.-^
souvenir of the most affectionate of mothers, to bear
away with me to old Europe."

" I cannot refuse my son anything," said madame
d'Habciville. And she at once commence the recital
of the following legend :

There was once a mother who had an only eniul ;
a little girl as fair as a lily-of-the-valley, and whose
beautiful azure eyes seemed to wander from her
mother to heaven, and from heaven to her mother till
they at last were fixed on heaven. How proud and
happy was this tender mother, when in her walks
every one complimented her on the beauty of her
child, on her cheeks as red as the newly-blown rose,
on her hair as fair and soft as threads of the spun flax,
and falling in graceful curls on her shoulders ! Oh yes !
this good mother was proud and happy !

However one day she lost this child which she
idolised ; and, like Rachel in the Bible, she refused
to be comforted. She passed a part of every day in
the cemetery, where she would wind her arms round

156

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

the lillle lomb where her child was sleeping. Wild
with grief, she would call in her tenderest voice :

" Emma ! my dear Emma ! here is your mother
who has come to look for you and carry you to your
little cradle, where you will be so warm and snug !
Emma ! dear Emma, you must be very cold under this
damp earth !"

And she would listen with her ear pressed close to
the cold stone, as if she heard an answer. She
would tremble at the slightest noise, and would
begin to sob and cry when she found that it was
caused by the north wind agitating the branches of
the weeping-willow. And the passers-by would say :

" The grass in the cemetery, so incessantly watered
by that poor mother's tears, ought to be always green,
but her tears are so bitter that they scorch like the
burning noon-day sun after a heavy shower of rain."

She would weep seated on the banks of the streamlet
where she had so often taken her child to play with
the pebbles and shells on the shore ; and where she
had so often washed its little feet in the pure and
limpid waves. And the passers-by would say :

" The poor mother sheds so many tears that she
swells the current of the brook ! "

She would return home to weep in all the rooms in
which she had been a witness of her child's gambols.
She would open a trunk in which she carefully pre-
served all that had belonged to it : her clothes, play-
things, the little silver-gilt cup in which she had
drank for the last time. With a convulsive grasp, she
would seize one of the little shoes, and passionately
kissing it, her sobs would have melted a heart of
stone (6).

She would pass a part of the day in the village-church
praying God to Avork a miracle, just one only miracle
for her : to give her back her child ! And the voice
of God seemed to reply to her.

" Like the holy King David, you shall one day go
to your cliild, but she will never return to you."

Then she would cry :

MADAME D'HABERVILLE'S LEGEND.

167

((

When oh ! my God ! when shall I liave this
happiness? "

She would drag herself to the foot of the statue of
the Blessed Virgin, that mother of great sorrows ;
and she would fancy that the madonna's eyes would
become sad, and that she could read this sad sentence
in them :

*' O ! Daughter of Eve, like me you must suffer
" with resignation, until the glorious day when you
" shall be rewarded for all !"

And the poor mother would exclaim anew :

" Ah ! when ! kind Virgin Mother, will that blessed
day come !"

She would water the floor with her tears, and
return home lamenting.

One day when she had been praying more fervently
even than usual, and shedding more abundant tears,
she fell asleep in the church ; most probably exhaus-
tion had induced sleep. The beadle closed the
sacred edifice without observing her presence. It might
have been nearly midnight when she awoke ; a ray of
moonlight, which shone into the sanctuary, shewed
her that she was still in church. Instead of being
frightened at her solitude, she was pleased, if such a
feeling could be allied with the suffering state of her
poor heart!

" I shall now be able to pray," she said, " alone
with my God ! alone with the Blessed Virgin ! alone
with my own heart !"

As she was on the point of kneeling down, a dull
sound made her raise her head; there was an old
man issuing from one of the side doors of the sacristy,
and approaching the altar with a lighted taper in his
hand. She saw with surprise that he was an old
beadle of that village, who had hes^n dead twenty
years. The sight of this spectre did not frighten her
in the least ; every feeling except that of grief seemed
dead within her. The phantom mounted the alter-
steps, lighted the candles, and made the usual pre-
paration to celebrate a requiem mass. When he

168

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

turned round, his eyes seemed fixed and expres-
sionless, like those of a statue. He re-entered the
sacristy, but almost immediately re-appeared, and
this time he was followed by a venerable priest
carrying a chalice and clothed with the priestly
garments of a minister of God who is going to cele-
brate the Holy Sacrifice. His large eyes, unnaturally
wide open, were full of sadness, and his movements
were like those of an automaton which is moved by
hidden mechanism. She recognised, in him, the old
cure, who had also been dead for twenty years, and
who had baptized her, and given her her first com-
munion. Far from being awe-stmck at the sight of
this denizen of the tomb, far from being frightened at
this wonderful occurrence, the poor mother, absorbed
in her grief, thought that her old friend compas-
sionating her state of despair, had broken asunder the
fetters of the tomb in order once more to offer the Holy
Sacrifice of the Mass for her ; she only thought that
the good pastor who had so often consoled her, was
now coming to her aid in her maternal anguish.

Every thing was solemn, mournful, lugubrious,
sad, and silent during the mass which was celebrated,
and served by death. Even the tapers threw a faint
light, like that of an expiring lamp. At the very
moment when the bell for the sanctus (which gave a
hallow sound like that of bones being broken by a
grave digger in an old cemetery) announced that
Christ was about to descend on t^e altar, the sacristy
door opened anew, and there issued forth a procession
of little children, who walking two by two, crossed
the choir, and defiled into the alley on the epistle side.
These children, who appeared to be hardly six years
old, had wreaths of immortelles on their heads, and in
their hands, some held baskets of flowers, and vases
of perfume, and others small gold and silver goblets,
containing a transparent liquid. They walked with
a light step, and joy shone on their heavenly counte-
nances ; one only, a little girl, at the end of the pro-
cession, seemed to follow the others with difficultyj

MADAME D'HABERVILLE'S LEGEND.

160

loaded as slie was with two immcnMC! buckets which
she could hardly carry. Her little feel, red with
pressure, bent under the burden and her crown of
immortelles seemed withered. The poor mother would
have held out her arms, and uttered.. -an exc<amatiou
of joy on recognising her little daughter, had not
her arms and tongue felt paralysed. She saw all
these children pass near her down the alley on the
gospel side, and she recognised several that Death
had recently gathered to his store. When her little
girl bending beneath her burden, passed by in her
turn, she remarked that at every step she took, the
water .vhich filled the two buckets that she was
dragging along with so much difficulty, was running
over on to the floor. When the child's eyes met her
mother's, they had an expression of great sadness, as
well as of tenderness mixed with reproach. The

Eoor woman made an effort to twine her arms around
er, but lost consciousness. When she came to
herself all had vanished.

In a monastery, about a league from the village,
there lived a hermit, of great renown for his sanctity.
This saintly old man never left his cell except to listen
to a sinner's painful confession, or to succor the
afflicted. To the former he would say :

" I know man's corrupt nature, do not be dis-
" couraged ; come to me confidently and boldly every
" time that you fall again into sin ; you will every
" time find my arms open to receive you and to raise
" you up again."

To the latter he would say :

" God who is so good, sends you suffering, because
*' he has infinite joys in store for you."

To all he would often say :

" If I were to relate my life to you, you would be
" astonished at finding in me one who has been the
" plaything of the most unbridled passions, and my
" misfortunes would make you shed torrents of tears,"

The poor mother threw herself at the feet of this
holy hermit and weeping related the marvels she

160

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

had witnessed. The compassionate old man, who
thoroughly understood human nature, saw a favorable
opportunity of putting an end to this grief which sur-
passed all the maternal sorrow he had ever met with
in his lolfi^Gxp£«enco.

*' My daughter, my dear daughter," said he, " our
" over-excited imagination often makes us the sport
" of illusions, which must generally be placed in the
" category of dreams, but the church teaches us also
" that wonderful occurrences, similar to the one you
" have related to me, may really take place. It is
" not for us weak and ignorant mortals, to assign any
" limits to God's power ! It is not for us to scrutinize
" the decrees of Him, who took worlds in his powerful
" hands, and launched them into infinite space. I do
" not therefore doubt the vision which you saw, and
" holding it for true will explain it to you. The priest
" who left his grave to say a Requiem mass, has
" doubtless obtained God's permission to repair some
" omission in the exercise of his holy ministry ; and
" the beadle most probably had been the cause of it,
" through forgetfulness or negligence. The procession
" of young children, crowned with immortelles, signi-
" fies those who have died without having forfeited

" baptismal grace. Those who carried baskets of
" flowers, or vases in which exquisite perfumes were
*' burning, are those whom their mothers, being
" resigned to the decrees of Providence, have offered
" to God, if not joyfully, which would not be natural?
* at least with resignation, knowing that their
*' children were exchanging a land of trials, for that
" heavenly land, where, near the throne of their
*' Creator, they will sing His praises to all eternity,
" In the gold and silver goblets were the tears which
". nature, jealous of her rights, had forced from those
*' mothers, who even while making the sacrifice of
" their children's lives, had exclaimed with the holy
" Job : the Lord hath given ! and the Lord hath taken
" awa^ ! Blessed be the name of the Lord ! "

The poor kneeling mother, tearfully drank in every

MADAME D'HABERVILLE'S LEGEND.

161

word which fell from the lipp ga the holy ma Like
Martha at the feet of Christ saying " Lord, hadst thou
" been here, my brother had not died, but now also
" I know that whatsoever thou wilt ask of God,
" God will give it thee ;" she kept on repeating with
undoubting faith " My father, if you had been near
" me, my daughter would not have did, but I know
" that even now, God will graut y^a all that you
« ask of Him."

The good old man collected his thoughts a moment,
and prayed to God to direct him. He had to pro-
nounce a sentence of life or death, on this poor
mother who seemed so inconsolable. He had to deal
a heavy blow, a blow which would bring her back to
a more reasonable state of mind, or which would
entirely crush that breaking heart. He took the poor
creature's hands in his own, which were dry and
shrivelled with age, and tenderly pressing them he
said in his softest voice " Then you dearly loved the
child you have lost ? "

" Did I love her, my father ! Oh God ! what a
question."

And as if out of her senses, she writhed in agony
at the old man's feet. Then suddenly raising herself
she laid hold of his soutane and exclaimed in a
broken voice :

" My father ! you are a saint ; my child ! give me
" back my child ! my little Emma ! "

" Ah yes " said the monk, " you loved your child
" dearly ; you would have done much to have spared
" her the very slightest suffering ? "

" Any things any thing, my fatiier," exclaimed the
poor woman ! " I would have rolled in live coals to
" have saved her from the leabt burn ! "

** I believe you " said the monk " and of course
" you love her still ? "

** Do f love her still, great goodness ! " said the
mother springing up as if a serpent had stung her to
the heart's core " do I love her still ! It is evident that
M

162

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

" you know nothing of maternal love, since you think
" that even death itself can annihilate it ! "

And trembling in every fibre she shed fresh torrents
of tears.

" Go away, woman," said the old man in a tone of
voice which he strove to render stern ; " go hence,
" you who come here to impose on me ; go hence, for
" you lie to God and to his minister. You have seen
" your little daughter, bending under the burden -f
" your tears, which she has collected drop by drop,
" and yet you tell me that you love her ! She is near
" you at this moment, pursuing her painful task ; and
** yet you tell me that you love her ! Go away, for you
** lie to God and to his minister ! "

The poor v/oman awoke as from an oppressive
dream ; she saw that her grief had been insane, and
she asked pardon of God for it.

" Go in peace," said the hermit, " pray for resigna-
" tion, and peace will again take possession of your
« soul."

A few days afterwards, she told the monk that her
little daughter had appeared to her in a dream,
was radiant with happiness, and carrying a basket
of flowers ; she had thanked her for having ceased
to shed tears, as she would have been condemned
to have gathered them all up. This excellent wo-
man, who was also rich, consecrated the rest of
her days to works of charity. She lavished the most
affectionate care on the children of the poor, and
adopted several of them. When she died, the fol-
lowing epitaph was graven on her tombstone " Here
lies the orphan's mother."

Whether it were from the tone of mind arising
from the circumstances in which the family found
themselves, or whether it were that the legend itself
was tinctured with melancholy, every one was
afl'ected by it, and some even to tears. Jules kissed
his mother, and after thanking her, hurried from the
loom lo hide his emotion.

" My God," he said, " preserve my life, for if any

MADAME D'HABERVILLE'S LEGEND.

163

" thing happened to me, my poor mother would
" perhaps be as inconsolable as the mother in this
" affecting legend which she has just related to us."
A few days afterwards, Jules and his friend were
sailing on the ocean, and in two months time they
arrived in France, after a prosperous voyage.

CHAPTER Xir.

-<$©$>-

They came upon us, in the night

And brake my bower, and slew my knight :

My servant a' for life did flee

And left us in the extreaaitie.

They slew my knight, to me so dear.
They slew my knight, and drove his g«ar ;
The moon may set, the sun may rise.
But a deadly sleep has closed his eyes.

Waverlet.
THE CONFLAGRATION ON THE SOUTH SHORE.

The trees were clothed w^ith their ordinary attire after
the departure of the hyperborean winter ; the woods,
the meadows were enamelled with flowers of bright
and variagated colors, and the birds with their gay
songs were saluting the arrival of the spring of the
year of one thousand seven hundred and fifty-nine.
All nature was smiling, man alone appeared sad
and discouraged ; and the song of the husbandman re-
naming home at dusk was no longer to be heard, for the
greater part of the land lay fallow, for want of hands
to cultivate it. A dark veil rested on all New France,
for the mother country, like a true stepmother, had
abandoned her Canadian children. Left to their own
11*

164

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

resources, the government had called all tlie able-
bodied men under arms to defend the colony which
was threatened with a formidable invasion.

The English had made immense preparations, and
their fleet, consisting of twenty ships of the line, ten
frigates, and eighteen smaller vessels, besides a good
many others, and having on board eighteen thousand
men, was sailing up the St. Lawrence under the
command of General Wolf, whilst two land forces
still more numerous, were to effect a junction with
them, under the very walls of the capital of New
France.

All the able-bodied population of Canada had
nobly responded to the appeal of their country in the
hour of danger ; there were only women and children,
the aged and the infirm, who were left at home.
Will the memory of their past exploits, their glorious
victory of Carillon, the previous year, enable the
Canadians to withstand an army as numerous as the
whole population of New France, including old men,
women and children ? Will their well-proved courage
enable them with such unequal forces, to repulse
an enemy desperately determined on taking posses-
sion of their colony ?

For a long time, you have not been appreciated,
my old Canadian brothers, you have been unworthily
calumniated. Honor to those who have vindicated
your fame ! Honor, a hundred times honor, to our
countryman M', Garneau, who has torn asunder the
veil which had hidden your great deeds ! Shame to
us, who instead of ransacking the old chronicles
which are so glorious to our race, have contented
ourselves with bowing our heads under the humiliating
reproach of being a conquered people, which was
thrown in our face at every turn ! Shame to us, who
were almost ashamed of being Canadians ! We
would have scorned the idea of being ignorant of the
history of the Assyrians, Medes and Persians, and
yet formerly the history of our own country was a
dead letter to us.

THE CONFLAGRATION ON THE SOUTH SHORE. 105

For some years there has been a glorious reaction ;
for some years, every one has lent a helping hand to
the work of restoration ; and Canada may exclaim
with Francis the First : " Ail is lost, except honor."
Still I am far from believing that all is lost ; on the
contrary the surrender of Canada has been perhaps a
great benefit to us ,: the revolution of '93, with all its
accompanying horrors, weighed lightly on this happy
colony which was then under the protection of the
British flag. We have gathered fresh laurels in fighting
under England's glorious ensigns, and twice has the
colony been saved by the valour of her new subjects.
In the senate, at the bar, on the field of battle,
everywhere in its sphere of action, the Canadian has
known how to prove himself inferior to no race. For
a century you have struggled, my countrymen ! to
maintain your nationality, and thanks to your per-
severance, it is still intact ; but perhaps the future has
yet in store for you, another century of struggles and
combats in defense of it ! Courage and union my
fellow-countrymen !

Two detachements of the English army had landed
at River Quelle, the beginning of June, 1759. Some
habitants of that parish being in ambush on the skirts
of the wood, had received them with a brisk discharge
of musketry, and had killed several men. The officer
in command, exasperated at this check, determined
to take signal vengeance. The two detachments had
ascended the river, and towards evening lid encamped
near a stream which rmis into St. Ann's creek to the
south-east of the present college. The next morning
the officer in command being ready to order the line of
march of one of the companies, called the lieutenant
and said to him.

" You are to set fire to all the dwellings of these dogs
of Frenchmen that you come across on your way ;
I shall follow you at a short distance."

" But " said the young officer, who was a Scotch-
man, " must the dwellings of those who offer no
resistance be also fired } They say that there are

166

THE CANADIANS OF OLD,

only old men, women and children left in these
dwellings."

" It seems to me, sir " replied Major Montgomery,
" that my orders are clear and precise ; you are to set
on fire all the dwellings of these dogs of Frenchmen
that you come across on your way. But I was for-
getting your predilection for your enemies ! "

The young man bit his lips till the blood started,
and marched his men away. In this young man, the
reader will of course have recognised Archibald
Cameron of Locheill, who having made his peace
with the British government, had returned to his own
country, obtained a lieutenancy in a regiment recruited
by himself amongst his clan of highlanders. Archy
went away groaning in spirit, and letting out all the
Gaelic, English, and French oaths that his memory
could furnish him with. At the first house where he
stopped, a young woman tlirew herself, in tears, at
his feet, saying to him : " Mr. Englishman, do not
kill my poor old father ; do not shorten his days, he
has not long to live."

A little boy of eleven or twelve years old threw his
arms round him, crying out :

" Mr. Englishman, do not kill grand-papa, if you
only knew how good he is ! "

" Do not be afraid " said Archy entering, the house,
" my order I are not to kill women, old men and
children. They imagined, I suppose " he added
bitterly " that I should not meet with one on my way ! "

A decrepid old man, stretched on a bed of

sickness, said to him :

" I have been a soldier all my life, sir ; I do not
fear death, which I have seen face to face, but for
God's sake spare my daughter and her child ! "

" No harm shall be done them," said Archy with
tears in his eyes ; " but if you are a soldier you will
kiiow that a soldier must obey orders, I am ordered to
burn down all the buildings on my road, and I must
obey. Where can you be moved, my father ? Now
listen" he added, approaching his mouth to the old man's

THE CONFLAGRATION ON THE SOUTH SHORE. 167

ear, as if he was afraid of being heard by the men
outside, " listen, your grandson seems quick and intel-
ligent ; if he can find a horse, let him gallop off and
warn your countrymen that I have oiders to bum
everything on my way ; perhaps they will have time
to save their most valuable effects."

" You are a good and brave young man !" exclaimed
the old man, " if you were a catholic, I would give
you my blessing ; any way thank you, a hundred
time's thank yci ! " (a)

" I am a catholic, " said Locheill.

The old man with difficulty raised himself in his
bed, raised his eyes to Heaven, stretched out his two
hands towards Archy, who bent down his head, and
said :

" May God bless you for this act of humanity !
In your day of great affliction, when you implore the
divine mercy, may God have in remembrance the
mercy you shewed your enemies, and may he hear
your prayer ! In the day of trial, say to him with
confidence : I have been blessed by a dying old man,
my enemy ! "

The soldiers hastily moved the old man and his bed,
to the entrance of an adjacent wood ; and Locheill,
when he resumed his line of march, had the satisfac-
tion of seeing a little boy, mounted on a young and
spirited horse, flying over the space before him. He
breathed more freely.

The worlc of destruction progressed ; but Archy,
from time to time, had the consolation (on arriving
at any eminence which overlooked some extent of
country) of seeing the women, old men and children,
taking refuge in the adjoining woods. Even though
melted to tears by their misfortunes, he was inwardly
rejoiced at having done all in his power to soften
the losses of these unfortunate people.

All the dwellings and out-buildings of a part of
River-Ouelle, of the parishes of Ste. Ann and St. Roch
by the side of the St. Lawrence, already only presented
a spectacle of smoking ruins, and the order had not

168

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

yet arrived to stay this devilish work of destruction.
On the contrary, Locheill from time to time saw his
superior officer's division, which was following at a
short distance, halt suddenly on some raised ground,
doubtless to enable its commanding officer to enjoy
witnessing the fruits of his barbarous order. Sometimes
he almost thought he could hear his shouts of
ferocious laughter.

The first house in St. Jean-Port-Joli was that of a
rich habitant, a sergeant in Captain d'Habenrille's
company, where Locheill had frequently lunched
with his friend Jules and his sister during their
holidays. He sadly recalled the eager gladness of these
good people, who were made so happy by the visit of
the seigniors and their friends. On their arrival the
mother and daughters of the Dupont family would
run to the dairy, the garden, the stable, to fetch the
eggs, the butter, the cream, the parsley and chervil,
to make pancakes and savoiy omelets ; the father and
sons would hasten to unharness the horses, lead them
lo the stable and give them good feed of oats. While
the mother was preparing a meal, the young people
would smarten themselves up a little ; they would
get up an impromptu ball, and jump about to the
sound of a violin which had oftener three strings than
four, and which squeaked under the old sergeant's
bow. Jules, in spite of his sister's remonstrances,
would upset every thing in the house, put every one
out, take the frying-pan out of mother Dupont's hands,
carry her in his arms to make her dance a minuet
notwithstanding the old lady's attempts to get away
from him, on account of her not being suitably
dressed ; and these good people laughing heartily
would never find that they marie noise enough.
Locheill thought over all this in the bitterness of nis
soul, and a cold perspiration broke out all over him,
when he gave the order to set fire to this dwelling
which in happier times had been so hospitable.

Almost the whole of the edifices in the first range
of St. Jean-Port-Joli parish were reduced to ashes,

THE CONFLACjIRATION ON THE SOUTH SHORE. 169

and yet the order to desist had not arrived. At sunset
having reached the little river Port-Joli, a few acres
only from the d'Haberville domain, Locheill halted
his men. He ascended the hill of the same name as
the river, and there, in sight of the manor and its vast
appurtenances, he waited ; waited, like a criminal
on the scaffold, who hopes even to the very last mo-
ment that a messenger of pity may arrive bc:?'ing a
reprieve. With his heart filled with sad remembrances,
he gazed on that dwelling where for ten years he had
been welcomed as a son ; where he, a proscribed and
exiled orphan, had found a new home. He gazed
mournfully on the still and silent village which he
had seen so full of life and animation before his de-
parture for Europe. Some pigeons, hovering over the
buildings on which they occasionally alighted, ap-
peared to be the only living creatures on this fine
domain. He sadly repeated with the Scotch poet
" Solma, thy halls are silent. There is no sound in
the woods of Morven. The wave tumbles alone on
the coast. The silent beam of the sun is on the field."
" Ah ! yes ! my friends " exclaimed Locheill in the
language he loved, " your rooms are now alas ! silent
and deserted ! no voice is now heard from this pro-
montory, which used formerly to echo back such
joyous tones. The only sound now to be heard is
that of the wave breaking on the sandy shore ! But
one pale ray of the setting sun illumines your meadow,
formerly so smiling ! "

" What must be done, my God ! if this ferocious
animal's rage is not satiated ? Ought I to refuse to
obey ? But then I should be dishonored ! a soldier,
more especially in the time of war, cannot refuse to
execute the orders of his superior officer, without
being for ever branded with disgrace. This brutal fool
would have the right to order me to be shot instantly,
and the shield of Cameron of Locheill would be for
ever sullied ! ^or who would undertake to vindicate
the memory of a young soldier who had preferred a
culprit's death, to the stain of ingratitude ? on the

170

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

contrary, that which, with mc, would have been only
a feeling of gratitude, would bo imputed to me as
treason by this man who pursues me with such diabo-
lical hatred ! "

Major Montgomery's harsh voice put an end to this
monologue.

" What are you doing here ? " he said to him.

'* I have Iialted my soldiers on the shore of the river"
answered Archy " and I was intending even to pass
the night there, after to-day's long march."

" It is not yet lale " replied the major " you know
the plan of the country better than I do, and you can
easily find some other place to bivouack in, than the
spot I have just chosen for myself."

'* I will march on my men ; there is another r'ver
about a mile further where we can pass the night."

" That is well " replied Montgomery in an insolent
tone of voice " and as there will be but a few dwel-
lings to burn in that distance, your troop will soon be
able to rest after their fatigues."

" That is true " said Locheill " for there are but
five houses ; but two of them, that group of buildings
which you see, and a mill on the river where I must
bivouack, belong to the Seignior d'Haberville, to the
man who during my exile received me and treats ^
me as his own son ; in God's name ! majo • Mo'
mery do you yourself give the order for di;^.; 'viig
them."

" I could never have believed " answered the major,
" that one of his Britannic Majesty's officers would
have dared to speak of his treason towards his sove-
reign."

" You forget. Sir," said Archy with difficulty res-
training himself, " that I was then a child. But once
more, I entreat you in the name of all you hold dearest
in this world, to give the order yourself and not oblige
me to be wanting in both honor and gratitude, by
applying the incendiary torch to the property of those
who showered every kindness on me in my days of
misfortune."

THE CONFLAGRATION ON TIIF SOUTH SHORE. 171

" I understand," said the major, sneering ; " you
would keep a door open, by means of which to rein-
state yourself in your friends' good graces, when
occasion oflfcrs."

At this cruel taunt, Arcliy, beside himself, was for
one moment tempted to draw his claymore and say
to him :

" If you are not as cowardly as you are insolent,
defend yourself major Monti^omery ! "

Fortunately he remembered himself in time ; instead
of his hand grasping his sword, it wandered instinc-
tively to his breast which he tore with his nails, in his
rage. Then he remembered the words of the witch
of the domain :

" Keep your pity for yourself, Archibald Loeheill,
when forced to execute a barbarous order, you shall
tear with your nails that breast, which, nevertheless,,
covers a noble and generous heart !"

" That woman must indeed have been inspired by
the evil one," he thought to himself, " when she made
such a prediction to a Cameron of Loeheill."

Montgomery, for a moment, looked with savage joy,
at this combat of conflicting passions wiiich wrung
the young man's very soul, enjoying this paroxysm
of anguish ; then flattering himself that he would
refuse to obey, he turned his back on him. Loeheill,
penetrating his perfidious design, made haste to rejoin
his company, and half an hour afterwards the whole
hamlet of Haberville was a prey to the flames.

Archy then stopped on the little hill, near that spring,
where in happi( r times, he had so often slaked his
thirst, with his friends ; from there his lynx eyes per-
ceived Montgomery, who had returned to the spot
where he had given his orders, and now with folded
arms seemed to gloat on the terrible spectacle. Then,
foaming with rage at the sight of his enemy, he cried
out:

" You have a good memory, Montgomery, you have
not forgotten the blows which my ancestor gave your
grandfather with the flat of his sword in one of the

179

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

Edinburgh taverns ; but I also have a tenacious me-
mory, I shall not always wear this uniform which
ties my hands, and sooner or later I will repeat the
dose on your should'^rs, for you will be too cowardly
to meet me face to face ; so barbarous a man as you,
must be a stranger to every noble sentiment, even to
that of courage, which man shares in common with
the animals who are deprived of reason ! May you
and your whole race be accursed ! May you, even
more unfortunate than those you have deprived of
shelter, have, when you die, not one stone on which
to lay your head ! May all the furies in hell. . . ."

But seeing that he was but venting impotent rage,
he went moaning away.

The mill on the Three Salmons river was soon only
a heap of ashes ; and the burning of those houses
which d'Haberville owned in Quebec which had
happened during the siege of the capital, completed
his ruin.

Locheill, after taking the usual precautions for the
safety of his company, bent his steps towards his
friends former manor-house, which now only pre-
sented a spectacle of desolation. By taking a path
through the w^oods, with which he was acquainted,
he was but a few minutes in reaching it. There,
seated on the summit of the cape, he for a long time
gazed in silence and untold anguish, on the smoking
ruins which lay at his feet. It might be about nine
o'clock, the night was dark, and but few stars were
visible in the firmament. Still, he thought he could
distinguish some living creature wandering about the
ruins; it proved to be Niger, who a few minutes
afterwards raised his head towards the summit of the
cape, and gave three mournful howls, thus, in his
fashion, weeping over the misfortunes of the family
who had fed him. Locheill thought that these plain-
tive cries were meant for him, and that this faithful
animal was reproaching him for his ingratitude to his
old friends, and he wept bitterly.

" See," said he, " the fruits, of what is called the

THE CONFLAGRATION ON THE SOUTH SHOUE. 178

code of honor amongst civilized nations ! An; they
also the fruits of those precepts which the Gospel
teaches such as profess the christian religion ? that
religion which is all love and pity, even towards our
enemies ! If I had taken part in some expedition,
commanded by one of the chiefs of those aborigines
whom we treat as barbarians on this hemisphere, and
if I had said to him " spare this house, for it belongs
to my friends ; I was a wanderer and a fugitive and
they look me into llieir family, where I found a father
and brothers!" tli'* Indian chief would have answered
me * certainly, spare your friends, it is only the ser-
pent which bites those who have warmed him by
their fire.' "

" I have always lived," Locheill went on, " in the
hopes of one day rejoining my Canadian friends and
embracing the family I have loved so well, and that
now, I love, if possible, more than ever. A reconcilia-
tion even, would not have been necessary, for it was
but natural that I should try and return to my country,
to gather together the wrecks of my ancestral fortune,
reduced to a mere nothing by the confiscations of the
British Government. There was nothing for me but
the army, as it offered the only career worthy of a
Cameron of Locheill. I repossessed myself of my
gallant father's claymore, which one ol my friends
had redeemed from among spoils taken by the English
on the unhappy field of Culloden. With this weapon,
which has never failed a man of my race, I dreamed of
a glorious career; I was much distressed when I learnt
that my regiment was to join the expedition against
New France, but a soldier cannot, honorably, resign
in war time ; my friends would understand this ! Now,
there is no further hope for the ungrateful wretch who
has burnt his benefactor's property ! lules d'Haber-
ville, he whom I formerly called my brother, his good
and pious mother, who was my mother also by adop-
tion, that beautiful and gentle young girl, whom I
called my sister to hide a tt^derer feeling which the
poor orphan's gratitude obliged him to hide in his

174

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

hearty all these good friends perhaps would listen in-
dulgently to my vindication and end by pardonning
me. But Captain d'Haberville ! Captain d'Haberville
who loves with all the intensity of his soul, but whose
hatred is implacable ! this man who has never par-
doned a real, or a supposed injury, will he ever allow
his family to pronounce my name, except to curse it !"

" But I have been stupid and cowardly," proceeded
Locheill gnashing his teeth ; " I ought to have de-
clared before my soldiers, why I refused to obey ; and
even if Montgomery had ordered me to be shot in-
stantly, men would have been found to approve my
disobedience and vindicate my honor. I have been
stupid and cowardly ! for supposing the major instead
of ordering me to be shot, had brought me before a
court martial, they would have appreciated my
motives even while pronouncing the sentence of my
death. I should have been eloquent in defence of my
honor, I should have been eloquent in defence of the
noblest sentiment in. man's heart, gratitude. Oh ! my
friends, may you be witnesses of my remorse ! I seem
to have a legion of vipers gnawing my breast ! Cow-
ard ! a thousand times a coward ! "

A voice near him repeated " coward ! a thousand
times a coward ! " At first he thought it was the echo
from the cape which was repeating his words on this
night when all nature was so calm and tranquil,
whilst a storm of passion was raging in his heart.
He raised his head and perceived, at a few feet's
distance from him, the witch of the domain standing
up right on the highest point of a rock which projected
over the summit of the cape ; she clasped her hands
and stretching them towards the ruins at her feet,
exclaimed in a wailing voice : " Woe ! woe ! woe ! "
She then with lightning-like rapidity descended the
narrow and dangerous path which led to the foot of
the promontory, and like (Erope's s'.ade, commenced
wandering amorgst the ruins, crying out "desolation !
desolation ! desolution ! " Then raising her arm threa-
teningly towardb the summit of the cape, she exclaimed !
" Woe I woe to you Archibald Locheill ! "

THE CONrLAGRATION ON THE SOUTH SHORE. 175

The old dog uttered a plaintive and prolonged
cry, and then all was again silent.

Just as Archy, painfully impressed with this sinister
sight and words, was bowing his head on his breast,
four powerful men threw themselves on him, stretched
him on the ground, and tied his hands. They were
four Indians of the Abenaquis tribe, who keeping
under cover of the outer edge of the wood, had been
spying all the movements of the English troops from
the time they had landed at River Quelle the previous
evening ; Archy, relying on his herculean strength,
made desparate efforts to break his bonds, the strong
elk-skin thong which was twisted three times round
his wrists, gave several times, as if going to break,
but still resisted his powerful efforts. Locheill seeing
this, resigned himself to his fate, and offering no fur-
ther resistance, followed his enemies, who plunging
into the forest, took a southerly direction. His power-
ful Scotch legs saved him much ill-treatment.

Very painful and bitter were the captive's reflexions
during this r&pid march through the forest, that forest
whose every path he knew, and where, free and light
as the mountain deer, he had so often hunted with
his brother d'Haberville . Whithout heeding the savage
joy of the Indians, whose eyes shone like carbuncles
on seeing him a prey to despair, he exclaimed :

" Y /U have gained the victory Montgomery ! my
curses are falling on my own head ! you will say that
I have deserted to the enemy ! you will loudlj re-
claim me a traitor, whom you have long suspected !
you have won the victory, for appearances will be
against me ! Your joy will be great, for I shall have
lost everything even honor ! "

And like Job he cried :

" Let the day perish, wherein I was born ! "

After two hour's rapid walking lliey arrived at the
foot of the mountain, opposite the cutting leading to
the Three Salmons lake, which made Archy suppose
that a detachment of Indians was encamped there.
When they arrived on the shores of the lake, one of

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

those who held the prisoner
loon'

cry

uttered three times the

seven mountain echoed

of the proud swan of

each time fainter and

and each of the
the shrill and piercing cry
Lower Canada three times,
fainter.

In spite of the uncertain starlight, Locheill would
not have been able to restrain a gesture of surprise
mingled with admiration, at the sight of that beautiful
sheet of limpid water, bosomed in the mountains and
dotted with islets crowned with evergreen firs, had
his heart been susceptible of any other emotion than
that of sadness. It was on this lake, that for nearly
ten years he had made frequent fishing and hunting
excursions with his friends. It was across this very
lake, at its widest part, that he had swam to prove

that sad
dead in

But during
as

his skill in the art of natation.

night every thing appeared to him to be

nature, as in his own sad heart.

A bark canoe came off* from one of the islets, rowed
by a man wearing the costume of the aborigines, with
the exception of having a fox-skin cap on his head ;
the Indians only wore on their heads the feathers
with which they adorned them. The new comer
conversed some little time with the four Indians, it
seemed to Archy that they were giving him some
account of their expedition, but as they made use of
the Abenaquis dialect, Locheill could not understand
what they said.

Two of the Indians went off in a southeasterly
direction, taking a path a little higher up than the lake.
Archy was then placed in the canoe and taken to the
Island, from which the man with the fox-skin cap had
come.

Blw¥lT WWyi^iWli fWr^VW^"-^ t-i-ir-JTVIWHWiliW

A NIGHT WITH THE INDIANS.

ITT

CHAPTER XIII.

-c^e^s—

What tragic tears bedew the eye !
What dtHths we sudi^r ere we die !
Our liroken friendships we deplore,
And loves of youth that aru no more.

LoaAN.

All, all on earth is shadow, all beyond

In t-iibstance ; the reverse is folly's creed,

How solid all, where change shall he no more !

Young's Night Tuoughts.

A NIGHT WITH THE INDIANS.

Loclieill after having cursed his enemy, and
lamented the day of his birth, returned to a more
christian frame of mind, when he found himself lied
firmly 1o a tree, and all hope died within him ; he
knew that the Indians hardly ever spared their
captive's lives, and that a slow and cruel death was
reserved for hiin. Suddenly regaining his natural
strength of mind, ho did not even think of asking
God to (k'liver him, but in the bitterness of his soul
recalling all his oH'ences towards his Creator, he
pr:iy(Hl lliin to accept the sacrifice of his life, as an
atonement for his sin^j ; he prayed God to give him
the necessary slrengih and courage so ihat he might
sufler patienlly the cruel death which awaited !)im,
and humbled himself before God. " After all,'^
thouglit he, " what will the opinion of my fellow-men
signify to uw wh(ui the dream of life is past ! " Does*
not my religion teach me that all is but vanity!"
x\nd he benl with resignation beneath God's hand.

The ll)ree warriors seated in a circle at about
twelve feet's distance from Locheill, were smoking
12

178

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

their pipps in silence. Indians are not nalurally very
communicative, and besides they look upon frivolous
conversation as unworthy of sensible men, and only
fit for women and children. However, one of them
named Talamousse, addressing the man from tlie
islet said to him :

" Is my brother going to wait here long for the
Portage warriors .-' "

" 'Ihree days" he replied, shewing three fingers :
" the Great Otter and Talamousse can start to-morrow
with the prisoner, the Frenchman will rejoin them at
the large encampment of captain Launiere." *

*' Tliat is well," said the Great Otter, stretching
out his hand toward the south, " we will lake the
prisoner with us to the encampment of little Mari-
gotte, where we will wait three days for my brother
and the Portage warriors, to go on to the encampment
of captain Launiere."

Locheill for i Hrst time thought that he perceived
that the voice ot the man with the fox-skin cap had a
different sound to that of the two otheis, though he
spoke their language with great facility. Until then,
he had borne the tortures of a burning thirst wnthout
uttering a single word ; and the sight of the beautiful
and limpid waters of the lake which lay at his
feet, was like the punishment of Tantalus. Under
the impression that this man might be a Frenchman,
he ventured to say :

" If there is a christian among you, will he for the
love of God give me something to drink."

" What does the dog want ?" said the Great Otter
to his companion.

The man who had been addressed was some time
without speaking, his whole body trembled, a livid
palor spread over his countenance, a cold sweat
bathed his forehead, but recovering his self possession
by a great effort, he answ^ered in his usual voice :

♦ Le MBruM..'l» is a litnr iaf;r 'ibo;;n(1insr wiih same at nbotil a mile's
iistnnre i>' iL; • !-}A i r. '.h^' 'f'mvc Siilmons' Lake, tluiold inhabitants of'lbe
•ountry always b«'l ■ ' <*J i! (o te \ht »,ork of beavers.

A NIGHT V7ITH THE INDIANS.

179

" The prisoner asks for something to drink."

" Tell the dog of an Englishman," said Tala-
mousse, " that he will be burnt to-morrow, and that
if he is very thirsty, we will give him some boiling
water to refresh him."

" I will lell him," replied the Canadian," but in
the mean time, will not my brothers allow me to take
some water to their prisoner ? "

" My brother may do as he pleases," said Tala-
mousse, " the pale faces have hearts as tender as a
young girl's."

The Canadian bent a piece of bireh-bark into a
conical form, and oflTercid it full of cold water to the
prisoner, saying to him :

" Who are you, Sir? [n God's name, who are you I
whose voice so resembles that of a man who is very
dear to me ? "

" Archibald Cameron of Locheill," said the first
speaker, " formerly the friend of your countrymen,
but now their enemy, and one who well deserves the
fate he will meet with."

" Monsieur Aichy," said Dumais, for it wasi he,
" even if you had killed my brother, and even if I
should be obliged to split open the skulls of these
two Canaoua with my tomahawk, you shall be free
in an hour's time.* I will first try persuasion before
having resort to fiercer measures. Now, silence '*

Dumais returned to his place near the Inlians,
and af*er a somewhat prolonged silence said lo him:

" Tiv prisoner thanks ihe red skins for making
him suiter a man's death, he says that the pale-face's
death-song shall be th^t of a warrior."

" Houa !" said the Great Otter, "the Knglishman
will do as the owl does, who moans when she sees
the f»res of our wigwams at night." f

* CanHiiua: a contemptuous name given to ihc Indinn.s hy the Cana-
dians oiold.

f The owl, who is by natcire so iinsooiahle a bird, o(ter' uftf^rs piteous
crie.'< at the HJght ufthe lircs lighted at ni^'hl l>y th<i>e who iictpietii uur
cpiiailian r()re>ls. It ^^eems as if m their liiry lht?y wnul'l ru-l the(u«elvv!«
iaio the (laiueM, whiih they frequently touch with their wiiigx.

12*

180

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

And he went on smoking looking scornfully at

Locheill.

" The Englishman," said Talamousse, " talks like
a man, now that he is far f om the stake ; the
Englishman is a coward who could not bear thirst ;
the Englishman, weeping, asked his enemies to give
him something to drink, just as little children ask
their mothers."

And he made a gesture like spitting on him.

Dnmais opened a bag, and bringing out some
provisions, offered some to the two Indians, who
refused to eat. Then disappearing into the wood,
he returned with a bottle of brandy, which he had
puf in h cling under the roots of a spruce-tree, and
taking a glass of it, commenced to sup. One of the
savages devoured the contents of the bottle with
his eyes.*

" Talamousse is not hungry, my brother," said he,
" but he is thirsty ; he has made a long march to-day
and is tired ; fire-water refreshes the legs."

Duinais passed the bottle to hiiri, the Indian laid
hoi of '^ with a hand treniblitig with joy, drank
eagerly, and giivi; him baelc the l)oltle after having
swallowed a good half-pint at a draught. His eyes
lost their brilliancy and became dull, and the stiipe-
fuetion of drunkenness began to .'i[)p(>.ar in his
countenance.

" That is good," said the Indian as he gave the
bo' tie back.

" Durnais does not ofTf!' any to his brother the
Great Otter," said the Canadian, "he knows that he
never drinks it."

" The Great Spirit loves .^he Great Otter," said he,
" he made him vomit the on'y mouthful of firewater
he ever drank ; the Great SpiiU loves the Great Otter,
he made him so ill that he thought he would have
visited the land of spirits. Tht Great Otter thanks
him, fire-water takes a man's senses away."

* Put in /lidmg: an exprfssinn of wtiif h tlie Cnnadinns and Indians
make u^e lo dtbignate things which tliey have hiMcn in (he woods.

A NIGHT WITH THE INDIANS.

18t

This Indian, by a rare exception and to the Cana-
dian's great regret, was abstemious by nature.

" Fire-water is good," said Talamousse after a
moment's Silence, stretching out his hand towards
the bottle which Dumais removed from him : "give,
give?, my brother, I pray you, another glass, I pray
you."

" No," said Dumais, " not now, presently."
And he put the bottle into his bag.
*' The Great Spirit loves the Canadian also,"
answered Dumais after a pause, " he visited him last
night during his sleep."

"What did he say to my brother," a^kod the
Indians.

" The Gr"at Spirit told him to buy the prisoner,"
said Dumais.

" My bro'her lies like a Frenchman," exclaimeKl
the Great Otter: " he lies like all the pale-faces, the
red-skins do not lie." *

" The French never lie when they speak of the
Great Spirit," said the Canadian.

And drawing out his bottle from the bag, he
swallowed a small mouthful of brandy.

" Give, give, my brother," said Talamousse stretch-
ing out his hand' towards the bottle, "I pray you,
my brother ! "

" If Tnhjmousse will sell me his share of the
prisoner," said Dumais, " the Frenchman will give
him another draught."

" Give me all the fire-water," ansvvered Tala-
mousse, " and take my share of the dog of an
Englishman."

" No," said Dumais, " one glass, and no more,"

* 'I'lie hifliaMs used oflen to say lo ihe (Canadians "my brother lies like
a Fri'hchnian." This would rmikf iis tliink iliai ilu' Indnns w.-rf more
veracious A M.^niHs-Miti."* Indimi, in mv presence, one day accused a
yjiiiii'.' irjan .>(bis trdie of^invini!' -loleii a fiix-sjcin Iroiri him.

"All vt- ! " .-ail ihe.'iilprit hni'ihinsi ht-^trtilv, " I took it ; yoii will fin.l it
in III.- forest." And the same time lie pointed oiil the place" where he had
hidden It

Noiwith.sianding this circn instance, the Indians de.ser"e I hp repmiiiioii
of Ivnii.' <|ii te as mucli. The Canadian proverb "As false as an Indtan."
IS well known.

182

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

And he pretended to put the bottle away.

*' Then give it, and take my share," said the
Indian.

He seized the bottle with both hands, swallowed
another half-pint of the precious liquor, and fell asleep
on the ^rass completely intoxicated.

" There goes one," thought Dumais.

The Great Otter looked at what was going on with
distrust, but nevertheless went on smoking im-
movably.

" Will my brother now sell me his share of the
prisoner," said Dumais.

" What do you want to do with him ?" replied the
Indian.

" Sell him to captain d'Haberville, who will hang
him, for having burnt his house and his mill."

" Burning hurts more, d'Haberville will drink \cn-
geanee with as much pleasure as Talamousse drank
his five-waler "

" My brother is wrong, the prisoner would endure
the torments of fire like a warrior, but he would cry
like a woman if you threatened him wiih the rope;
captain d'Haberville knows that well."

'' My brother lies aguin," said the Great Otter,
" all the Fnglish we have burnt, wept like cowards,
and not one of them sang his death-song like a man.
They would have thanked us to have hung ihem ; it
is only the Indian warrior who prefers the stake to
the sham(; of being hung like a dog." (a)

" Let my broth«'r listen," said Dumais, *' and let
him pay attention to the words ol ihe pale-face. The
pri-oner is not English but Scotch, and the Scotch
are the Knglish Indians. Let njy brother look at ihe
prisoner's dier., and he will see it is very like that of
the Indian warrior.'*

" That is true," said the Great Otter, " he is not
smothered in his clothes like the Knglish soldier, and
the soldiers of the Great Ononthio, who lives on the
Other side of the Great Lake; but what has that to
do with it ?"

A NIGHT Wnil THE INDL\NS.

18S

" It has this to do witli it," replied the Canadian,
*' that a Seotch warrior prtifi r.s bein^ burnt to being
hL^ng. Like the red-skins of Canada, he thinks ihat it
is only d(!g3 "Ik; onglit to be hung, and that if he
visited ihe hind of spirits with a ro|)e ronnd his neck,
the Indian warriors would refuse to hunt with him."

"My brother lies again," said the Indian, shakina
his hi^^ad donbtingly ; " the Scotch Indians are stiU
pale-faces, and cannot have the courage to suffer like
the red-sknis."

And he went on smoking pensively.

" Let my brother lend ear to my words," replied
Dumais, " and he will see that I speak the truth."
*' Speak, your brother listens."

" The English and the Scotch," conlinucd the
Canadian, " inhabit a large island on the other side
of the Great Lake ; the English live in the plains,
the Scotch in llie mountains. T\w. English are as
numnrous as the grains of sand of ihis lake, and the
Scotch as the grains of sand of the islet we are now
on ; never: lieless, they have made war with each
other for as miny moons as there are leaves on this
large maple iree. 'i'lie English are rich, their Indians
are poor ; wh''n the S<;otch beat the English, they
returner' to th<'ir m untains, loaded with valuable
booty ; when tlw F'nolish bciit the Scotcli, they found
nothing in return amongst tlie mountains ; it was all
gain on one side, and jy/fliing on the other."

" If the En<i:lish were so n^wmerous," said the Great
Otter, " why did they not (wr-ue them into their
mountains, to exterminak- them rill ? My brother
says that they all live on the s>ime island, they could
not then have escaped them ?"

" Iloua !" cried Dumais, like the Indian, "^ m
brother wi 1 see that that was impossiole, if he wi
listen to me."

" ! he Scotch Indians inhabit mountains which att
sc tiigli, so high," said Dumais, pointing to ili'' sky,
*' that an army of young Englishmen who, once upon

184

TIIK CANADIANS OF OLD.

a time, had pursued them, had white beards wiien
they dcsoonded."

" Th(! French are always foolish," said the Indian,
•* they only try to make people lauji^h ; they will soon
put on matrhicotis (petticoats) and f^o and sit with
our squaws, to amuse them with their tales ; they
•re never serious like men."

*' My brother should see," replied Diimais, " that
it is to make him understand how high the Scotch
mountains an*."

" Let my brother speak ; the Great Otter listens
and understands," said the Indian, who was accus-
tomed to this figurative style.

" The Scotch have h^gs as strong as the elk, aufi
are as agile as deer," Dumais went on.

" Your brother belic'vcs you," interrupted the
Indian, " if they are all like the prisoner, who in spite
of his bonds, was always on my heels when we were
bringing him here ; he has legs like an Indian."

" The English," replied the Canadian, " are large
and robust, but they have soft legs and big stomachs;
60 that, although they were often victorious when they
came to pursue their enemies into their high moun-
tains, these last being so much more agile, always
got .ivvay from them, prepared ambushes, and killed
a good many of them ; so much so, that the English
generally gave ov(!r pursuing them in |)laces where
they would only get hard blows, and where they
would die of hunger. Still the war always went on.
The English made many prisoners, they burnt some,
but at the stak(? these last always sang their death-song,
insulting their enemies and telling them that they
had drunk out of their grandfathers' skulls, and that
they (lid not know how to torture warriors."

Houij !" exclaimed the Great Otter, " these Scotch-
men nre men !"

" The Scotch had for a chief," the Canadian went
on, "a brave warrior named Wallace; when lie went
to war, the ground trembled under his feet ; he was
as tall as this fir-tree, and he was himself worth a

A NIGHT WITH THE INDIANS.

I8r>

whole army. Ho was belraycd ])y n misfrablo
wretcli, sold for moiuy, rriiKlr prisoner, and con-
dtMTin<Hi to be linng. At this news, there was a cry
of rage and grief throiiirli all tiu^ Seoleh mountains ;
the warriors all pn nfed their faces hlaek, tin y held a
council and t( n gr'at chief'^, hearing the calume: of
peace, set nut for England. They l<'oU them into a
great wigvv im. hey lighted the firi> of cotineil and
smoked for a long timt; in silence ; a great chief
then spoke and said, ' my brothers, ihe earth has
drnnk enough of the blood of the warriors of two
brave nations, we wish to bury the h;:l( het ; give us
back Wallace and we will stay hostages in his |)lace ;
you shall kill us if he lifts a tomahawk against yon
again !' And he oHered the calumet to !li" Knglish
Ononthio, who waved it from with his hanfi saying,
* 13eft)re the sun shall have set three limes, Wallace
will be hung !' "

'' ' Listen, my brother,' said the great Scotch chief,
' if Wallace must die, 'et him die a warrior's death ;
it is on'y <iogs that are hung,' and anew he oflered
the calumet, which Ononthio reject' d. The deputed
chiefs took council together, and their head replied,
' let my brother listen to my last words, and let his
heart rejoice, let him have <'leven stakes ])r< pared,
to burn WaHace and his ten warriors, who will hp.
proud of sharing his fate : th(>y will thank their
broth r for his clemency.' And again he oflered the
calumet of peace, which Ononthio again refused."

" Houa !" said the Great Oiler "those were never-
theless fine words, and came from generous iK^arts.
But my brother does not t'll me why the Scotch are
now frienfls with the English, and make war with
them against the French?"

"The d(>puties returned tolho>ir mountains with their
hearts filhd with rage; at each deailicry {b) which
they uttered I efore entering the towns and villages,
to announce the lamenial'le end of Wallace, evey one
ran to aims, and the war went on between ihe two
nations for as many moons as there are

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186

THK CANADIANS OF OLD.

sand in my hand" said Dumais throwing a handful
of sand down before him. " The small people of
Indians was generally conquered by enemies as
numerous as ihe stars on a line night; the rivers ran
with blood, but they never again thought of burying
the warrioi's hatchet. The war would be going on
still, were it not that a traitor had betrayed to the
English soldiers tliat nine great Scotch chiefs, having
assembled in a cavern io drink fire-water, had fallen
asleep there like our brother Talamousse."

'* The red-skins" said the Great Otier " are never
traitors to their nation; they deceive their enemies
but never their friends. Will my brother teil me, why
there are traitors amongst the pale- faces?"

Dumais feeling rather perplexed how to reply to
such a point-blank question, wtiut on as if he was not
conscious of any interruption.

'' The nine chiefs, taken by surprise and unarmed,
were taken to a great city, and ail condemned to be
hung before the end of one moon. At this sad news,
they lighted a fire at night on all the Scotch mountains,
to convoke a great council of all the warriors of the
nation. The wise men said many fine wo»-ds, for
threedaysand three nights; and yet they did not decide
on anything. They tried the medicine, and a great
sorcerer declared that ihe mitshnaniton* was angry
with his children, and that the hatchet must be bnried
fore\er. Twenty warriors painted black, went to the
great town of the Knglish, and before entering it uttered
as many fiealh-cries as there were captive chiefs. They
held a great council, and the Ononihio of the Rnglish
granted tliein peace on condition that they would give
hostages, that they would deliveruptheirstrong; ':'ces,
that the two nations would make but one, and that the
English and Scotch warriors would fight the enemies

♦ To tnf the vii-fliriHe : the Inilians never iinHprtuok a'lv im!i<iriRht ex-
pediliofi. tilher tiir whp or for ihe chiioe, wiihuut coiixiihiiiir the iiilernal
vpirits, liy ineHus of their diviner-.

The mit.iimaiiifoit wii" the preut ileity nf ihe Iiul'an.- n- ■! 'he matiitoM
their 'leiiioii, <>i' evil genius an inferior Jivmiiy ulwuys ii|)|h»< d tu tbtir
^nelii-eiii deity.

A NIGHT WITH THE INDIANS.

187

of the great Ononthio shoulder to shoulder. They
made a feast which lasted three days and three nights,
and where they drank so much fire-waler, that had
not the women put away the tomahawiis, the war
would have began afresh. The English were so
pleased that they promised, over and alx)ve the treaty,
to send to Scotland the heads, feet, and tails of all the
sheep they should kill in future."*

"That was good" said the Indian "the English
are generous."

" r»'y *irother must see," continued Dumais, "that
a Scotch warrior likes better to be burnt than hung,
and he will sell me his share in the prisoner. L< t
my brother make his price, and Dumais will not louk
at the money."

" The great Otter will not sell his share in the
prisoner," said the Indian, " he has promised Taoutsi
and KalakoMi to deliver him up to-morrow at the en-
campment of Little Marigotte, and he will keep his
word. We will assemble the Council, the Great Otter
will speak to the young men ; and if they consent
not to burn him, there will still be time to give him
up to Captain d'Haberville."

" My brother knows Dumais," said thr Canadian
" he knows that he is rich, that he has a good h(!art,
and thai he is a man of his word ; Dumais will pay
for the prisoner six times as much," counting on his
fingers, " as Ononthio pays the Indians for every
enemy's scalp."

" The (ireat Otter knows that liis brother is speak-
ing the truth," r«'plied the Indian, "but he will not
sell his shaie of the prisoner."

The Canadian's eyes (lashed fire, he grnsped the
hamlle of his hatchet, but thinking beiwr of it, he
carelessly knocked the ashes from that part of the
tomahawk which serves as a pipe to the French as

♦ The liulmiiH lire very (tiiul oClhr' heniN Hiid fit*t oCn'Mninls. I unco
ai'ktff tin • M vanmtun^ wh^i wa* l'<in»iiiig kI' hHviiij U-t-n pr. .«. ni ni a feast
wlierc sfven ni llii ir hmpimi*'!! Ii.xI In-cm »-men •' wfiii-li |>h I i»( h roiiNled
eitf I'lV wu" ;lie MUM <leiicii)U!i ? " He anvweivd, iiiiiteititiitiiigiy : '' 'J lie lt«t
and liaml>, my l>roihcr."

188

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

well aa to the Indians in their reconnoitring wars.
Although Dumais' first hostile movement had not
escaped his companion's lynx-eye, he nevertheless
went on quietly smokinj^.

Dumais' words, when Locheill had recognised him,
had given birth to renewed hope in his soul ; and he
again clung to the life, ihe sacrifice of which he had
made with bo much resignation, like a good christian,
and a brave man. Notwithstanding ihe poignant
remorse which rackr-d his very soul, he was still too
young to hid farewi'll to life, and all he held most
dear, without regret ! Could he, without a feeling of
bitterness, renounce that brilliant career of arms
which had made so many of his ancestors illustrious.
How could he, the last of his rwce, bury the tarnished
scutcheon of the Cauierons of Locheill in his own
tomb, without a feeling of sorrow? Could he with-
out regret bid farewell to life with the thought that he
left the d'Habcrville family under the imprecation that
it had warmed a viper in its bosom ; Vvith the thought
that his name would be pronounced with horror by
the only real friends he had in the world ; with the
thought of Jules' d<'»pair and the imprecations of the
implacable Captain; of the silent horror of that good
and holy woman who had called him son, oi that
beautiful and ^!:entlegirl who had formerly called Iiim
brother, to whom he had hopi^d to give some day a
dearer title. Archy was indeed very young to die.
By regaining his life, he might perhaps be able to
repair all, and a ray of hope; darted through his mind.

Locheill, encouraged by Dumais' words, had fol-
lowed the scene of life and death which was parsing
before him, with ever increasing anxiety. Being
ignorant of the Indian dialect, he tried to catch the
meaning ol the speakers' words, by means of the
varying expression of their features Although the
night was rather dark, he had not missed one of the
malignant and «cornful looks which ha'l been directed
towards him by the Indian, whose eyes shone with a
phosphoric light, like those of the tigrr-cat. Knowing

A NIGHT WITH THE INDIANS.

189

the ferocJly of Indians when they are under the influ-
ence of alcohol, it was not without surprise, that he
saw Dumais pass the bottle to them ; but when he
saw that one of them refrained from tasting it, and
that the other was stretched full length on the sand,
dead-drunk, he understood his deliverer's tactics to get
rid of one of his enemies. When he heard the name
of Wallace pronounced, he remembered that during
Dumais' illness, he had often spoken of his favorite
hero's fabulous exploits; but still he could not make
out why he held forth to the Indian about a CaU'doninn
warrior's exploits. Had he understood the end of the
Canadian's discourse, he would have remembered
Jules' endless jokes about what he pretended was his
countrymen's favorite dish. When he saw anger
darting from Dumais' eyes, when he saw him grasp
his tomahawk, he was nearly calling out to him not
to strike, but then he saw him resume his peaceful
attitude. His generous heart could not allow his
friend to be exposed, through a feeling of gratitude, to
being put to df^ath for killing an Indian who was an
ally of the French. The Canadian kept silence for
some time, refilled his pipe, began to smoke, and said,
in his calmest tone of voice :

"When the Great Otter fel sick of the smuU-poxnear
the South River, as well as his father, his wife an'l his
two sons, Dumais wont and fetched ihcrn ; and at
the risk of himself and his family taldng the iijiirss,
he moved them to his great wigwam where for time
moons he tended them. It was not Dumais' fault
that the old man and the two young ones died, and
Dumais had them interred with candles around tlx'ir
bodies like christians, and the black-gown prayed to
the Great Spirit for them."

" If Dumais," replied the Indian, '* and his wife
and children had falle.i sick in the fores', ihf (irrat
Otter would have tak( n them to his wi^![w;uti, wmld
have fished in the lakes and rivers lor fish, hive;
hunted the woods for game, would have lough' fire-
water which is the Frenchman's medicine, and he

I'lO

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

would have h.iid ! ^ Knt and dritik, my brother, and
^«rt Htrong.' Thi* Great Olter and hin i«<)uaw would
httv«' watched «lay and night hy the bed of his Frt-nch
frirn<ls; and the CJrcat Otter woiiM not have said ! 'I
fed y«»u, I nursed von, wilh my i'lns I bought you iirv-
water wliieli is the pah'-faees' medicine?' l^et my
brother lake iIk' prisoner,'' added the Indian standing
proudly erect, " The red-skin no longer owes anything
\o the pale-l"ae«.'. "

And again resumod smoking tranquilly:

" Listen my brother," said the Canadian, " and
forgive I)um;iis if he hid the truth from you, he did
not kn«)w your great heart. Il«' is now going to speak
in the presence of the Great Spirit who hears him,
ami tlu! pale-fac(? never lies to the Great Spirit "

" That is true," said the Indian, " let my brother
speak, and his brother will listen."

" When the Great Olter was sick, three years
ago," said the Canadian, " Dumais related what
happenc^d to him, when the spring ice carried him
away towar's St. Thomas' falls, and how he was
saveil by a young Scotchman, who arrived that
evening at the Seignior dc Beaumont's."

" My brother did tell me," said the Indian, " and
shewed uu; the remainder of the islet where, hanging
over the abyss, la; (;very moment expecled death.
The Great Olter already knew the place, and the old
cedar to which he clung."

" Weill," resumed Dumais rising and taking off
his cap, " your brother declares here, in the presence
ol the Great Spirit, that the prisoner is the young man
who saved his life !" The Indian uttered a terrible cry
which th« echoes of the mountains repeated with a
noi*e like thunder, bounded up, and drawing his
knife, riished upon tlu; prisoner. Locheill who had
not understood anything o' their conversation, thought
thai his last moment had arrived, and recommended his
soul to (iod, when, to his great surprise, the Indian
severed his bonds, shook his hands heartily with

A NIQIIT WITH THE INDIANS.

101

lively (Icmonstrations of joy, and llirust liiiii into his
friend's arms.

Diimais, sobbing, pressed Arcliy to his breast, and
ihen kneeling down exelaimed —

" Oh n)y God ! I have prayed Thee to sireleli out
Thy protecting hand over this noble un(\ generouh
young man ; niy wife anti children have incessanily
oflired the »;ime prayer ; I thank Thee, I tliank Thee!
oh my Ciod ! for having granted ine iniieh more than
I asked ! 1 <i:iive Thee thanks, oh ! mv God ! for I
would have committed a ciime to sav(» his life, and
I should have dragged on a life gnawed by remorse,
till the tomb would have* received a murderer!"

" Now," said Loch(!ill after having thanked his de-
liverer, with the liveliest expressions of gratitude,
'* let ns at once set out, my dear Dumais, for if my
absence from the bivouac is noticed, I am irreparably
lost ; I will explain this to yon as we go along."

Just as they were stepping into the canoe, three loon
cries were heard from the south shore of the lake
opposite the islet.

" Those are the young men from Marigotte, said
the Great Otter addressing Lochcill, and they have
come for you, my brother; Taoutsl and Kalakoui,
must have sent them word by means of some Indians
they must have met with, that there was an English
prisonner on the islet ; but they will have to cry a long
time, before they will awaken Talamousse, and the
Great 0;ter will sleep till the Canadian's return. A
prosperous journey, my brothers."

Archy and his companion taking a northerly direc-
tion, lo-ig heard the loon cries which the young Indians
uttered at short intervals, but they were already be-
yond their reach.

" I fear," said Archy, as tlu^y were descending the
opposite side of the mountain, "that the young Abena-
quis warriors, disappointed in their expectations, may
do some harm to our friends on the islet."

*' We are certainly depriving them of a great treat;
they must find the time hang heavy at Marigotle and

1U2

THE C ANAIHANS OF OLD.

to-morrow would have passtul quickly, roasting a pri-
soner." liOclioill shuddered involnniarily.

" As lor tJKj two Cunaouas w<* have lolt, do not be
undtsr any uneasiness about them, they will know how
to take care of themselves The Indian is the most
independent cr(^ature in creation ; he only ^ives an
account t)f his actions to others, when he chooses.
Besides, the worst that could happen to them under
the circnmslances, would be their having, as they
term il, to cover half the prisoner with heaver skins,
or other arlicU^s: in a word to pay half to Taoutsi
and Katakoiii. It is even more than probable that the
Great Otier, who is a sort of wit among them, will get
out of it by makmg the others laugh at the expense of
his two partners, lor he is never at a loss. He will
tell thrill, that 'r.ilairiousse and he had the undoubted
right to disjiDse t»f their half of the captive, that the
half which was at liberty, walked oft* with the other
half; that they had better make haste and run after
him as t'(^ prisoner being loadt.'d with their property
cannot got away very (|uickly ; or some nonsciisc of
that sort, which is always well received iiy the Indians.
Another thing is probable, which is, that he will tell
them of my iidvenlure at the St. Thomas falls, which
all the Abenaquis know of, and say that I owe my life
to your intrepidiiy ; imd as Indians never forget a ser-
vii'" t!:;'.' has hvr.n rcndcrvj] tlicm, they will exclaim
' my ijrotluTs did wll lo let the deliverer of our friend
the palf.-faee go free' "

I.oclujill v/anl<cl to cmter into a long explanations
80 as to ex(!ulpate hiinself in J)umais' eyes for his
ruthless conduct of the ])rcceding day; but the latter
stopped him.

"■A mm like yon, Mons. Archibald Locheill," said
Duinais, '' owes »ne no explanations. It is not he,
who, at the imminent peril of his own life, did not hesi-
tate for a moJiicnt to expose himself to the fury of the
elements in order to succor a stranger ; it is not so
noble a heart that can be suspected of being wanting i,i
the finest feelings of humanity and gratitude. I am

A NIGHT WMII THE INDIAN?.

103

myself a soldier, and I know llio full cxfonl of llie
duties which are imposed by military di^eiplinc. I
have been present at many a scene o\' Imnor on the
part of our savage allies, wliicb, in my (jwality of ser-
geant commanding a pjuty ofieii stronger th.in tlieni,
J might have prevented, if snperioi oideis had not tieJ
my hands; ours is a rude trade lor feeling hiiarts."

" I was onoo the witness of a spectacle wiiiiih still
makes me shudder wh(Mi I think of it. I saw tli<'se
savages burn an Knglish woman ; she was a young
and very beautiful woman. I think I still see her tied
to the stake where they tortured her, for eight niortid
hours! I still sec this poor woman, in the midst of
her brutal executioners; and like our mother Kve,
having no other covering but her long (lax-lik(> hair
which covered half of her body, f siill fancy that
I hear her heart-rending cry niein Goti ! mein Golt !
We did all we could to buy her, but without success;
for, unfortunately for her, her f ither, her husband, and
her brothers in defending her with the courage of des-
pair, had killed several savages, and amongst others
one of their chiefs and his son. We were but about
fifteen Canadians, against at least two hundred
Indians. I was very young at that time, and i wept
like a child. Ducros dit Lnterreur cried out to Fran-
coBur, foaming with rage : 'what, sergeant, are wc
men, and shall we suffer them to burn a poor woman
before our eyes, without defending her! Are we
Frenchmen ! Only give th(; order, sergeant, and for
my share I will kill ten of these Cannoua dogs, b«'fore
they have time to defend thems<'lves.' And ho would
have done as he had said, for Ijaterrcur was a fine
fellow, and as quick as liglilning. The Black Bear,
one of their most renowned warriors, turned towards
us chuckling. Ducros darted on him with his niised
tomahawk and exclaimed : take your hatchet, HIack
Bear, and coward ! you shall see that you have not a
feeble woman to deal with ! The Indian shrugged
his shoulder, with a look of pity, and contented him-
self with slowly saying : *■ the pale-face is foolish, lie
13

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

would kill hi8 friend, to defend the squaw of a dog of an
Englisliman who is his enemy.' The sergeant put an
end to the quarrel by ordering Ducros to rejoin our
little group. This sergeant had a brave and honest
heart, as his name attested. He said to us, with tears
in liis eyes : ' It would be useless for me to infringe
my orders, we could not save the poor woman,
and we should get ourselves all massacred. What
would be the consequence.' the powerful tribe of the
Abenaquis would detach itself from the alliance of
the French, would become our enemies, and then how
many of our women and children would have to share
the late of this unfortunate English woman ! And I
should be responsible for all the blood that would be
shed."

" Well, Monsieur Archy, even six months after this
horrible scene, I used to start up out of my sleep all
bathed in sweat; I w^ould think Isavvthe poorvictim, in
the middle of those wild beasts ; I was always thinking
I heard her heart-rending cries of " mein Gott ! mein
Gott ! " Every one was astonished at my coolness and
courage, when the ice was bearing me away towards
the St. Thomas falls ; and this was the principal rea-
son. Just as the ice broke up, and exploded with a
frightful report, I thought I heard amidst the powerful
voices of the tempest, the heart-rending cry of that
poor Englishwoman "mein Gott! mein Gott!"* I
thought that it was a chastisement sent by Providence
which I deserved for not having succored her. For,
you see Mr. Archy, men often make laws which God
is far from sanctioning. I am only a poor ignorant
man, who owes what little learning he lias to the
venerable cure who brorght up my wife ; but that is
my opinion."

* An old soldier, Godraiilt by name, who had served iindi-r inyprand-
ftither, df^t•^ibed to me, nearly seventy years ngo, tin's 1erril)le .•scene, of
whieh he hud himself been a witnc»<. He told me that tlie unlortuuate
Viutim had extianned <• Mein Gott !" Mv iuniily used tu tliinit ihat the
soldier hml mivtakon the pronunciation, nnu that it was rather " iiiy God "
that she hud exclaimed; 1 think it probable, however, that the poor woman
was Dutch and that she rtally did cry " Mem Gott,"

A NIGHT WITH THE INDIA:^?.

lan

" And you are right " Maid Archy nig'ting.

The two friends conversed the rest of their road, about
the d'Habervillo family. The ladieH and my uncle
Raoul had taken shelter in Quebec, on the first newn
of the B^.nglish Heet having made its appearance in die
waters of the St. Lawrence. Captain d'llabcrville
was encamped at Beauporf, with his company, as was
also his son Jules, who had returned to Canada with
the regim(;nt in which he served."

Dumais, fearing some unlucky encounter with Ihc
Abenaquis Indians, who were spying the movements
of the English army, insisted on escorting Archy as
far as the bivouac where he had left his soldiers.
Locheill's last words to him, were :

You are now quits with me, my friend, for you
have given life for life ; but I can never adequately
requite you. There is some extraordinary connection,
Dumais, between our two existences. Starting from
Point-ljcvis, two years ago, I arrived on the shores of
the Soulh-River, just in time to save you from the
abyss; a few minutes later, and you must inevitably
have been lost. Yesterday, I was made prisoner by
the Indians, after a long voyage on the ocean ; and
you, my dear Dumais, yon were in the nick of time
on an islet of the Three-Salmons lake, to save my
honor and my life; God's providence has certainly
manifested •itself in a very visible manner, F'are-
well, dear friend, whatever chances I may meet with in
my soldier's career, I ho|>c we tnay repose our hcad.s
beneath the same tnrf, and that your children and
grand-children will have reason to ble.ss the memory
of Archibald Cameron of Locheill.

When the Highlanders, at sun-rise, remarked their
young oflicer's palor, after passing through such eon-
Hicting emotions, they attributed it to his having feared
some surprise and having passed the night without
sleep, roaming round the bivouac. After a sliglit
repast, he fired the house next the mill which wa.s
now a heap of ashes; but hardly had he resumed bin
13*

TIIK CANADIANS OP OLD.

inan^li, whrn an (>miss;»ry from Montgomery signified
to liini that tho work of (icsfrnction was 1o cease*

" It is indoed time ! fxolainicd Arcliy, gnawing
t\w liundli; of hi-* (tiavmore.

CHAPTER XIV.

■^=^3^^

II ext (!e-< orrnxiiinA ilnnn la giiprro
oil le pluH brave doil fuir.

Ckuvantrs.

THE PLAINS OF AURAIIAM.

Vm victis ! says tho wisdom of nations; Woe to
the conquered ! not only on account of the disasters
consequent on a defeat, but also because the con-
quered are always in the wrong. They suflTer in
every way, they suffer in their wounded self-love,
they suff('r in their reputation as soldiers. Even if
they have fought one against ten, or />nc against
twenty, if they have performed prodigies of valor, still
they are defeated ; they find hardly any mercy from
their countrymen ; history only records their defeat.
Here and there they get some slight praise from
writers of their own nation, but even these praises
are always mingled with blame. A new battle is
fought with the pen and the compass in the hand,

* This house, built of .stone, and Ijeionifin^ to M. Joseph Robin, Htiil
exists ; Tor after the departure of the English, the Canadians, who had bcert
concealed in the wood, extinguished the fire. A rafter, which had Iwen
■corched by the flames, bears witness to this a(^t of vandalism. Tradition
says that this house owes its preservation to a figure of our Saviour, some
ray of our blessed Lady, that stood in a niche hoHowed in the wnil of the
building, like (hose that may still be seen in many of the old Canadian
houses.

TIIK PLAINS OK AIIHAIIAM.

and the mancH of generals, whoso bodies rp|)oso on
the fields of slaughter they so bravely defende*], are
taught what they ought to have done to have >lill been
of the number of the living; seated in a well stuiled
arruehair, we triuni|)hantly demonstrate by what
clever manoeuvres the conquered would hiive come
out the conquerors in the struggle. We bitterly
reproach them for the consequences of their defeat,
however they merited mon; generous treatment at
our hands. Has not a great captain of our days who
rivalled Alexander and Ca;sar, said : " Who is
there who has never committed a mistake in war !"
Vw victis !

On the morning of the 1 3th of September 1750, a
day of mourning in the annals of France, the English
army, commanded by General Wolfe, after having
eluded the vigilance of the French sentinels, and
surprised the advanced posts, during u dark night,
was ranged in battle array on the plains of Abraham,
where it had commenced lo entrench itself. li«'neral
Montcalm, carried away by his chivalrous courage,
or perhaps thinking it urgent to interrupt works,
which might produce such fearful (!onsequences, at-
tacked the English with only a part of his troops, and
was vanquished, as was inevitable, with forces so
disproportioned to those of the enemy. The two
generals sealed this memorable battle with their
blood. Wolfe endowing England with a colony,
nearly as large as the half of Europe ; Montcalm
losing to France an immense country which her
king and improvident ministers knew so little how
to appreciate.

Woe to the vanquished ! For if the Marquis of
Montcalm had gained the victory over the English
army, he would have been vaunted to the clouds,
instead of being blamed for not having awaited the
reinforcements he was to receive from Monsieur de
Vaudreuil and Colonel de Bougainville ; his tactics
would have been admired in having so abruptly
attacked the enemy, before they had time to recon-

118

TUG CANADIANS OF OLD.

noitrc, and in profiting by the irregularities of the
ground to intrench himself in an impregnable position.
It would have been said that a hundred men sheltered
by intrcnchments \;ere worth a thousand who were
exposed. Motives of jealousy, unworthy of a high
«oul, would not have been attributed to General
Montcalm ; and the brilliant laurels which he had so
often gathered on glorious fields of battle, would have
sheltered him from such suspicions.

V(E victis f The city of Quebec, after the disastrous
battle of the 13th of September, was nothing but a
heap of ruins ; even the fortifications were not safe
from a surprise, for a part of the ramparts had given
way. The ammunition in the magazines was
exhausted ; the artillery-men, rather to hide their state
of disii'ess than to hurt the enemy, fired guns only at
long intervals against the formidable batteries of the
£ng!ish. There were no more provisions. And yet
this bravvT garrison which suffered so much and de-
fended itself so valiantly, has been accused of cowar-
dice. If the governor, a new Nostradamus, had
known <hat the Chevalier do Levis was within reach
of succoring the town, and instead of capitulating,
had awaited the arrival of the French troops, it is
certain ihat far from the garrison being accused of
pusillanimity, its courage would have been lauded
to the skies. Of course it was cowardly of the
garrison to yield a town, which they knew they could
not defend. Trusting to the humanity of the enemy
(who had carried fire and sword into the peaceful
fieldt^) they need not have stopped to consider the
fate of the citizens' lives, nor the honor of their wives
and children exposed to all the horrors of a town
taken by assault ! Certainly this poor garrison was
very cowardly ! Woe to the vanquished !

After the capitulation, the English neglected nothing
that might assure the conquest they had made of so
important a place as the capital of New France. The
walls were built up again, new fortifications were
added to the former ones ; and the whole furnished

41^

THE PLAINS OP ABRAHAM.

199

with a powerful artillery. From besiegers as they
were I lie previous year, they might now become the
besieged. Their precautions were but right, for
General de Levis, the following spring, resumed the
offensive with an army of 8,000 men, partly regular
troops and partly Canadian Militia.

In ilie meantime, the English army, proud of the
victory it had gained seven months previously, was
again ranged in baltle-order at eight o'clock in the
morning of the 20th April, 1760, on the same plains
wh(!re it had fought so successfully. General Murray
who commanded this army of 6,000 strong, and
supported by twenty-two guns, occupied the most
advantageous position, whilst the F'rench army,
slightly more numerous, but with only two pieces of
artillery, crowned the heights of Ste. Foye. Although
the French were fatigued with a painful march,
throUi^li nearly unpassible roads across the Sitide*
marshes, they longed to avenge their defeat of the
preceding year. The thirst of blood raged in the
breasts of enemies, whose long-standing hatred
which they had brought with them from old Europe,
was now stirred up afresh on the new continent.
The valor was the same on both sides, and 15,000 of
the best troops in the world only awaited the order of
theirrespeetivccommanders, to drench with their blood
anew, those same plains which had already drunk
that of so many brave soldiers.

Julesd'Haberville, who had already so distinguished
himself at the first battle of the ]>lains of Abraham,
now made part of one of the five companies com-
manded by the brave Captain dWiguebelle, who, on
the order of General Levis, at first abandoned Dumont's
mill which was attacked by a superior force. Jules,
seriously woimdc^d by the bursting of a shell, which had
broken his left arm, refused to yield to the instances
of his friends, who urged him to have his wound
dressed at once, as the bloc'd was flowing abundantly

* Ttiiit w<ml is also pronounced Suete wbicli prolwbly arises from the
gruunU sweating in Ihit iucaiity.

800

TIIK CANADIANS OP OLD.

from it ; only stopping to bandage hia arm slimbtly
wi'.li his liaii(lkt'rcliief, he charged afresh, with his
arm in a sling, at the head of his company, when the
genoral, tliinking it important to get possession, what-
ever it might cost, of a post on which the issue of the
combat depended, gave the order to resume the
offt-nsive.

Ahuost all General Murray's artillery was pointed
to protect this important position, when the French
grenadiers charged it anew ; bullets and grape-shot
decimated ihcir ranks, which they kept filling up in
as good order as if on parade ; this position was
taken and retaken several times during that memor-
able battle, where both sides vied with each other in
valor. Jules d'Haberville 'Mhe little grenadier" as
liis .soldiers called him, carried away by his excite-
ment, and in spite of his wound, threw himself into
the ihick of the enemy, who for a moment left the
French in possession of the mill ; but they were
hardly established in it, when the English, returning
to the charge in greater numbers, again made them-
selves musiers of it after a sanguinary struggle.

The French grenadiers, momentarily thrown into
disorder, n-formed again at a short distance, under
the fire of futilh^ry and a shower of balls which com-
pletely riddled them. For the thiitl time they attacked
the mill, and this time they charged with fixed
bayonets, and afier a bloody fight they obtained
possession t f it and kept it. During this third
charge, every iVellng which makes life dear, seemed to
be dead in young d'Haberville's soul, for, his heart
filled with deep resentment at his friendship being
betraved, and at tl'e total ruin of his family, he
seemed to implore death as a boon. When therefore
the order was given to advance for the third time,
boundin^' onwards like a tiger and uttering the war-
cry of I s family " follow me grenadiers" he threw
himself single-handetl on the enemy, with whom he
foughi like a madman. The work of slaughter had
again begun with renewed fury, and when (he

THE PLAINS OF ^^.KUIAM.

S&l

French remained masters of the position, ihey drnijiircd
Jules from beneath a heap of dead and woiincJed.
As he gave some signs of life, two greniidi«Ts eanied
him to the borders of a little river near the mil!,
where the application of some cold water, restored
him to consciousness. It was more ihe loss ol blood
than the severity of the wound whieh hnd c;iused
him to faint : a sabre-cul had gone clenn through iiis
helmet, and cut the flesh of his head without frac-
turing the bone. A soldier stanched the eflusioi) of
blood, and said to Jules who wished to return to the
fight :

** Not for a short quarter of an hour, sir; you
have had enough for the present ; the sun burns
like the devil on the mound, and that is dan trousfor
wounds on the head. We will carry you into the
shade of the wood, where you will find some fellows
who have also received scratches." h'FlMberville, too
weak to offer any resistance, soon found himself
amongst a number of wounded soldiers, who had had
sufficient strength to drag themselves as far as the
thicket of firs.

Every one knows the issue of the second battle of
the plains of Abraham ; the victory wns drarly
bought by the French and the Canadians, whose loss
was as great as that of the enemy. On the part of
the vanquished, it was a useless effusion of blood :
New-Frarce abandoned by the mother-country was
ceded to England by the indolent Louis the Fifteenth,
only three years after that glorious battle which
might have saved the colony.

Locheill had been nobly revenged for all the
suspicions injurious to his loyalty, which his enemy
Montgomery had tried to instil into the ntinds of the
superior officers of the British army. His extensive
information, the time whieh he had devoted to the
study of his new profession, his aptitude for :ill ihe
military exercises, his vigilance at the posts conhMed
to him, his sobriety, had from ih" '•-■ ; gained him
general esteem ; and his high courage, tempered

^^^ffn^^^^'w

■i

SOS

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

however with prudence in the attack on the French
lines at Montmorency, and on the field of battle of
the thirteenth of September, 1759, was noticed by Gen-
eral Murray, who publicly loaded him with praise.

After the rout of tiie English army at the .second
battle of the plains of Abraham, Archibald Locheill,
after performing prodigies of valor at the head of his
llighlandmon, was llie last to yield the ground he had
contested inch by inch ; he again distinguished
himself for his coolness and presence of mind in
covering the retreat of the remains of his company ;
for instead of following the stream of fugitives to the
city of Quebec, remarking that Dumont's mill was
evacuated by the French grenadiers (who were
occupied in pursuit of their enemies of whom they
made great slaughter) he profited by the circumstance
to shelter his movements from the observation of the
enemy, and ordered his men to defile between this
position and the adjacent wood. Just then, he
thought he heard his name called, and turning round
" from the wood, with his

head covered with a bloody
bandage, and his uniform in tatters, who tottered
towards him, sword in hand.

" What are you doing, brave Cameron of Locheill !"
exclaimed the unknown " the mill is evacuated by
our gallant soldiers ; it is not even defended by
women, childien, or weak old men ' turn back, brave
Cameron, you can easily burn it to crown your
exploits !"

It was impossible to mistake the bantering voice
of Jules d'Haberville, although his face, soiled with
blood and mud, was hard to recognise.

Archy had but one feeling at these insulting words,
that of tender compassion for the friend of his youth,
for him whom he had so long desired to hold in his
arms. His heart swelled to bursting, and a choking
sob broke fro.n his chest, for he seemed to hear t'le
words of the witch of the domain resound afresh.

" Keep your pity for yourself, you will want jt.

he saw an officer
arm in a sling, his

issumg

THE PLAINS OF ABRAHAM.

SOS

** when you shall carry in your arms the bloody
" corpse of him you now call brother ! I only feel one
" great regret, oh Archibald Locheill ! it is for not
** being able to curse you ! Woe ! woe ! woe !"

Without pausing to consider the critical position
in which he was placed, or his responsibility for the
safety of his soldiers, he halted his company, and went
to meet Jules, with the point of his clayinorc bent
towards the ground. One moment, one single moment,
all the young Frenchman's affection for his adopted
brother, seemed to reawake in him, but repressing
this first impulse of affection, he called to him in a
hollow and plaintive voice :

" Defend yourself. Monsieur de Lochrill, you love
easy victories ! Defend yourself! ah ! traitor !"

At this fresh insult Archy crossing his arms, only
answered in his most affectionate lone of voice :

" You also, my brother Jules, you also condemn
me without a hearing !"

At this affectionate reproach, a strong shudder para-
lysed the small strength still remaining to Jules ; his
sword dropped from his hand, and he fell with his face
to the ground. Archy sent one of his soldiers to
fetch some water from the adjacent stream, and
without thinking of the danger to which he exposed
himself, took his friend in his arms, and carried him
to the outskirts of the wood, where several of the
wounded both French and ('tmadian, were so affected
by the young Englishman's care of their young
officer, that they did not think of harming him,
though several had already reloaded their gnns,
Archy after having examined his friend's wounds,
come to the conclusion that loss of blood was the
sole cause of the fainting fit, and the cold water he
threw in his face, soon made him recover conscious-
ness. He opened his eyes, and raised them to
Archy's for a moment, but he did not speak a word.
The latter pressed his hand and he seemed to return
a slight pressure.

" Farewell, Jules ! " said Archy to him, *' Fare-

t04

TIIK CANADIANS OF OLD.

wcill, my hrollicr! iin|)erious duties oblige mo to
leave you ; miiy we both see bettrr days* !"

And sii^hinj? deeply, he rejoined his companions.

"Now, my boys" said Loeheill, after having
thrown a rapid glance over the plain, and listened to
the coid'iision of sounds which rose from it, " now,
my boys, no false delicacy ; the battle is lost without
jresouice ; let us now shew the agility of our highland
legs, if we wish to have the good fortune of beiug

1)resent at other battles; forward then, and do not
ose sight of me."

Taking advantage of all the irregularities of
ground, and listening from time to time to the
cries of the French, who were eagerly pursuing the
English whom they wished to drive back on the river
St. Charles, Loeheill had the good fortune of entering
Quebec, without having lost another man. This
gallant Company had already suHered enough ; the
half had remained on the field of battle, and Loeheill
was the otiiy one of tlie officers who survived.

Honor to unsuccessful valor ! Honor to the manes
of the Knglish soldiers whose bodies were buried
pell-mell with those of their enemies, 28th April,
1760 ! Honor to those, the heaps of whose bones
may still b(^ seen reposing in peace in an eternal
embrace, beside Dumont's mill ! Will these soldiers
liavc! forgotten their inveterate hatred during this long
sleep ? or will they be ready to cut each other's
throats anew, when th(' trump of the last judgment
shall sound tli(> last call to the man of war in the
valley of Jehosaphat?

Honor to the memory of the French soldiers whose
bodies lie buried on the Plains of Abraham, on the
field of that disastrous battle of the preceding year !
Will they, after their long sleep remember their last
struggle to prevent their native soil passing under the
yoke of the stranger? Will they, on awaking, seek for
their arms, in order to reconquer that ground which
their desperate courage could not keep ? the heroes,
whose praises were sung by the mythological poets,

THE PLAINS OP ABRAHAM.

205

still kept their malignant passions in the Ely^can
fields ; christian heroes, when they die, pardon ail
their enemies.

Honor 1o unsueccssful valor ! if thoso wlio cele-
brate the aiiniv(<rsary of a great and bravoly-disjnited
victory, had a particle of gtmi'rous feeling in their
souls, they would append to the brilliant national
standard, a dark-colored Hag, bearing this inscription,
" Flonor to unsuccessful Valor !" Among the cele-
brated soldiers whom history mentions, there was hut
one who, on the morrow of a memorable* victory,
uncovered his head respectfully before the captives,
and in the presence of his stall", pronounced these
noble words, " Honor, gentlemen, to unsuccesfful
valor !" He doubtless wished, that in their fntuif?
triumphs, the French should ascribe a share of glory
to the vanquished who merited it ; he knew that his
words would remain for ever recorded on the pages
of history. Great soldiers are often to be met with,
but nature, sparing of her gifts, takes centuries to
bring forth a hero !

The field of battle presented a most doleful appear-
ance after the victory of the French ; blood, water
and mud adhered to the clothes, hair, and even faces,
of the dead and wounded, who were stretched about
on that bed of ice ; great efforts were necessary to
disengage them from it. The Chevalier de Levis
caused the greatest care to be taken of the wounded
of both nations, the greater number of whom were
taken to the Convent of the Ladies of the General
Hospital. The hospital and out-buildings were filled
with sick. All the linen in the house was torn up
for bandages ; all that the good nuns had left to
them, were the clothes they had on the day of the
battle (rt). Always thirsting for opportunities of exer-
cising christian charity, they had now a rare oppor-
tunity of fulfilling the painful duties which this
charity imposes on those, who, by pronouncing their
vows, make at once a creed and a profession of it.

General Murray, who, after his defeat, had reentered

S06

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

Quebec, which he fortified in a formidable manner,
offered a vi^'orous resistance to the Chevalier de
Levis, who had no other rnaleriala for a siege than
twenty guns with which to fortify his batteries ; it
was more an investment than a regular siege, and it
was prolonged by the French whilst waiting for the
succors which nev(!r arrived from the mother-country.
The Ch(!valif'r de Levis, who wished to show the
care that was taken of the enemy's wounded, had
listened favorably to the English general's request,
that one of iiis ollicers niight three times a week visit
his sick countrymen who had been taken to the
General Hospital. Locheill knew that his friend
must be in tliat hospital with the officers of both
nations ; but he had had no news of him. Although very
uneasy, he had refrained from asking anything about
him, so as not to lay himself open to ill-natured
remarks, on account of the false position in which his
former relations with the Canadians had placed him.

Still it was natural that he should wish to pay a
visit to his frllow-countrvmen, but with true Scotch
caution, he did not let this appear ; and it was only
on the tenth day after the battle, when his turn came
naturally, I hut he went to the hospital, escorted by a
French officer. The conversation, between the two
young men, did not flag on the way.

*' I do not knt)\v," said Loch(dll at last, "if it would
be an indiscretion on my part, to ask to speak in
private with the fiuperior t)f the convent ?"

" I see no indis-eietion in it," answered the French-
man, " hut I fear to infringe my orders by permitting
you to do so ; f am told to conduct you to your
countrymen, and nothing more."

" I am sorry for it," said the Scotchman indiffer-
ently, " it is rather disagreeable for me, but let us
say no more about it."

The French oflicer kept silence for a few minutes,
and said to himself, that his interlocutor, speaking
the French language like a Parisian, had probably
become acquainted with some of the Canadian

THE PLAINS OP ABRAHAM.

207

families who were shut up in Quebec ; thiit perliaps
he was charged with some messaj^'e from the n lalioiis
or friends of the superior, and that it would bt- <'riiel
to deny his request. After a niouient's silence, he
resumed :

" As I feel sure neither you nor the Superior have
any intention to blow up on- ballories, I tliink that
after all I shall not be failing in my duty, iil allow
the private conversation you have asked i'or."

Locheill who counted upon this intcivicw to
effect a reconciliation between himself and his friend,
could imrdly repress a joyful exclamation, but yet he
answered in an indifferent manner :

" Thank you, Sir, for your courtesy to mo and to
this good lady. Your batteries, protected by p-rench
valor," ho added smiling, " arc in perfi'cl safety,
even supposing we had sinister designs on them."

The passages of the hospital through which they
were obliged to pass before entering the Superior's
parlour, were literally strewn with the wounded. Tint
Archy, seeing none of his fellow coimtryinen, hastened
onwards. After having nmg, he walked up and
down in that same parlour where the good Sujjorior,
Jules' aunt, had so often had luncheon served them
formerly, during the frequent visits which he made
to the convent, with his friend, during his long
sojourn at the Jesuits' College at Quebec.

The Superior received him with cold civility, and
.'^aid to him :

" I am sorry to have kept you wailing, pray take
a seat, sir."

" I fear, madam, that you do not know me," said
Archy.

"I beg your pardon," replied llie Superior, " you
are Monsieur Archibald Cameron of Locheill."

" You used to call me Archy," said the young
man.

** The times are much altered, Monsieur Locheill,"
replied the nun; " and many events have taken plac:»
since then.'^

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

Lodicill oclioecl tlirse words, and sighing, repeated :

" The times an? irmcli altered, and many events
have t.ikni |)la(e since then. Hut, at any rate, how
is my hrolher, .Inles d'llaberville ?"

" !!(!, whom you used formerly loeallyour brother,
Monsieur Lottliciil, is now, I hope, out of danger."

" (iod he praised !" replied Lochcill, " then all
ht)pe is not dead within me ! If I were speaking to
an ordinary person, lli«;r(! would be nothing more for
me to do now than to lake my leave after having
thanked the Superior for the interview she has
deigned to gnml me ; hut I h;iv(; the honor of speak-
ing to the sister of a brave soldier, to the heurcss of a
name famous in history by high deeds of arms,
and by tin? nohle aetions of a lady of the house of
Ilabervill(! ;* and if she will allow me, if she will for
a moment forg(?t the ties of affection which bind her
to her family, if the Superior will act as an impartial
judgf between me, and a family who will be as
strangers to her, f can then venture to broach a juMi-
fieation tf my conduct, with some hopes of success."
" Speak, Monsieur Loeheill," replied the Supe-
rioress, " speak ; I am listening to you, not as a
d'llabervilh;, but as a perfect stranger to the name ;
it is my duty as a ehrislian to do so, it is my wish to
listen with impartialitv , to all which can palliate
your cruel and barbarous conduct towards a family
who had lov(>d you so well !"

A sudden flush, followed by a cadaverous palor,
passed over ihe young man's features, and made the
Superior fear diat he was going to faint. With both
hands, he laid hold of ihe grating which separated
him from his interlocutor, and leaned his head against
it for some moments ; then, conquering his feelings,

# Tlif niitlior here nlniilea l'>tlie Ladies de Vercheres, hm grand-aunts
vviio, ill ilie yeiir itiOO, nnd ugaiii in l()92, deleiuled a fort attaL-kfd by the
Jiidiiiiio 1111(1 ie|iiils<'d ilium. The aciroiiiit ^iveii in the author's liiinily is,
that, ihe^e liidie.-i, iht^ir vervains and <iiher women, dressed theni^etvvs like
men ill Older lo iiii>leiid the liidiiiiis, thai ihey tired the canon and inii»ket8,
and that iliey »hewed tlieiiisolvrN ai h!I the prineipal puints thai Were
atlai^ked, till tiie «neiiiy, ihiiikuiglhat the furl was defended by a numerous
gar.iso.., tuok to flight.

THE PLAINS OF ABRAHAM.

209

he told what the reader already has become acquainted
whh, in the preceding chapters.

Archy entered into the most minute details ; he
mentioned his regret at having entered the English
army, when he learnt that his regiment was to take
part in the expedition against Canada ; he spoke of
the Montgomery's hereditary hatred of the Camerons
of Locheill ; he mentioned how eager the major was
to ruin him, and how he was a spy on all his actions
hoping to succeed in doing so ; he accused himself of
cowardice, in not having sacrificed even honor to the

gratitude which he owed the family who had adopted
im in his exile. He omitted nothing ; he related
the scene at the old man's at St. Ann's ; his humanity
in forewarning the unhappy Canadian families of the
fate which threatened them ; his anguish and despair
on the hill at Port-Joli before setting fire to the manor-
house ; his inelTectual attempts to soften his cruel
enemy ; his curses and projects of vengeance against
Montgomery, at the fountain of the cape, after having
completed the barbarous work of destmction ; his
anguish at the sight of the smoking ruins he had
made ; his capture by the Abenaquis ; his painful
self-reproach ; his return to that God whom he had so
grievously offended by giving way to all the feelings
of hatred and rage which his depair suggested. He
related the scene on the Plains of Abraham ; his
terrible anguish of mind when he saw Jules, whose
wounds he feared might be mortal ; he omitted nothing,
and added nothing in his own defence. In laying
bare the anguish of his soul, and describing the storm
of passions which had raged in his breast during
those fatal days, Locheill could add nothing in his
own justification before such a judge. What plead-
ing could indeed be more eloquent than the faithful
recital of all that had troubled his soul ! What
pleading could be more eloquent than the simple and
UBColoured recital of the indignation which tortured
a noble spirit, obliged to execute the cruel orders of
a ferocious leader, whose heart was dead to every
14

810

TIIK CANADIANS OF OLD.

feeling uf humanity ! Loclieill, witlioul iiinisolf per-
ceiving it, was Hublime in liis eloquence when
pleading his oausc before this noble lady, whose
sentiments were as lofty as his own.

She had indeed sentiments as lofty as his own, for
it was she who had one day said to her brother
captain d'Uabervillc :

" My brother, as it is, you have sufficient means
" worthily to uphold the honor of our house with
" dignity ; but it will nut be so if you share our father's
" inlierilance with inu ; to-morrow, I shall enter a
*' convent, anH here is the act of renunciation which
" I have executed in your favor."

The good superioress had listened to him with ever-
increasing emotion ; she clasped her hands and held
them out entreatingly toward the young Scotchman
when he repeated his curses, imprecations, and threats
of vengeance against Montgomery. Tears flowed
from her eyes when Locheill, a prisoner amongst the
Indians, and d(K)med to a frightful death, looked into his
own heart, bowed beneath God's hand, and prepared
himself for the death of a repentant sinner ; and
she raised her hands to heaven to show her gratitude.

" My dear Archy " said the saintly woman

'•'• Ah ! thank you ! a hundred times thank you !
madam, for those kind words," exclaimed Locheill,
joining his hands.

" My dear Archy," replied the nun, " I exonerate
you completely ; you have fulfilled the duties of a
soldier (which are so often distressing) by executing
the orders of a superior officer ; sacrificing yourself for
the sake of our family, would have irretrievably ruined
you, and without preventing my brother's ruin; yes,
I quite exonerate you from all blame, but I hope that
now you will forgive your enemy likewise."

" My enemy, madam, or rather he who was so f(t»f-
merly, has had to seek pardon from Him who wlH'
judge us all ; he was one of the first to take flight from
the field of battle which was so disastrous to ua'; a
shot stretched him mortally wounded on a heapOf

THE PLAIN'S OF ABRAHAM.

ice, wilhuut vvmi a stone on whicli to rest his head;
a tomnhfiwk put anend to his suflerings, and hi» bloody
Hcalp now hangs at the belt of an Abcnaquis Indian.
May (»od pardon him," contiaued Archy raising his
hands " as I do from the bottom of my\liearl ! " (b)

A rav ol'j )y lighted up the superioress' countenance ;
naturally vindictive like her brother captain d'Haber-
ville, a religion of love and charity, had subdued her
natural inclinations, and put into her heart love and
charity for all men. For a moment she seemed to be
praying, and then she resumed :

" I have every reason to believe that it will be easy
for you to become reconciled to Jules. He has been
at death's door ; and during his delirium, he was
incessantly mentioning yourname, sometimes address-
ing you in a threatening voice, and reproaching you
most bitterly, but more frequently, seeming to con-
verse affectionately with you."

" My nephew must be well known to be able to
understand the extreme affection he had for you ; that
noble self-denying spirit must be known to be able to
appreciate his love for you, and what he would have
been capable? of doing to prove it. How often has he said
to me : I love men, and am always ready to render
them any service, but if it were necessary to give
my life to tiorrow for my brother Archy, I should die
with a smile on my lips, for I should have given him
the only proof of my affection which was worthy of
him. Such feelings are not suddenly extinguished inso
noble a heart as that of my nephew, without superhuman
efforts. On the contrary, he will be glad to hear your
justification from me ; and rest assured, my dear
Archy, that I shall spare no efforts to bring about a
reconciliation between you and your brother. He
has never mentioned your name since he has be^n
getting better, and as he is still too weak to be spoken
to on a subject which might agitate him, I will wait
till he is a little stronger, and I hope to give you good
news at our next interview. In the meantime I will
14*

218

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

bid you farewell ; indispensable duties oblige me to
lea^^e you."

" Pray for me, Madam, I have great need of it " said
Archy !

" I do so every day," replied the nun. " They say,
perhaps wrongly, that people in the world have more
need of prayers than we have, and most of all young
officers ; as for you Locheill, you must have altered a
good df*al if you are not one of those who have but
little need of them !" added the superioress smiling
kindly. " Farewell, once more ; may God bless you,
my son."

It was not till a fortnight afterwards that Locheill
again visited the hospital, where Jules, to whom
the superioress had given satisfactory explanations,
waited with nervous anxiety to show him that he felt
the same warm afi'ection for him, of which he had in
former days given so many proofs. They agreed to
make no allusions to certain events, as it would be
too painful a subject of conversation for both of them.

When Locheil entered the little room which Jules
occupied in the capacity of nephew to the superioress,
in preference to other officers of a higher grade,
Jules held out his arms to him, and made a useless
effort to rise from the armchair in which he was
seated. Archy threw himself into his arms, and they
were both some time before they could speak a word.
D'Haberville, after a great effort to regain his com-
posu'-e, was the first to break silence :

" The moments are precious, my dear Archy, and
it is of consequence to me, to unveil the future, if it is
possible. We are no longer children, we are soldiers
fighting under glorious banners, brothers in affection,
but enemies on the field of battle. I have aged ten
years during my illness : i am. no longer the young,
brokenhearted madman who flung himself on the
enemy's battalions praying for death ; let us live in
hopes of better times ; those were your last words,
when you confided mc to the care of my grenadiers ;
those were your last words, and they make me hope

THE PLAINS OF ABRAHAM.

218

that happier times are in store for those who have
never ceased to be brothers at heart"

" You know as well as I do," continued Jules,
'•• the precarious state of this colony, all depends on a
throw of the dice. If France leaves us to our own
resources, as there is every reason to believe she will,
and if on the other hand, your ministers who set so
high a value on the conquest of this country, send
you succors in the spring, the siege of Quebec will
necessarily be raised, and we shall have to leave
Canada to you finally. If the other supposition proves
true, we shall retake Quebec, and keep the colony.
Now, my dear Archy, I want to know what you
will do, under the one or the other of these circum-
stances.

" In either case," said Locheill, " I can not hono-
rably retire from ♦he army, whilst the war lasts ; but
when peace is proclaimed, I think of selling the
wrecks of my Scotch patrimony, buying land in Ame-
rica, and settling there. My warmest affections are
here ; I love Canada, I love the gentle and straight-for-
ward manners of your good habitants ; and after a
peaceful but laborious life, I should at least lay my
head beneath the same soil as you, my brother Jules."

" My position is every different from yours," replied
Jules, " you are the absolute master of your own
actions, f whilst I am the slave of circumstances. If
we lose Canada, it is most likely that the Canadian
nobility will emigrate to France, where they will find
friends and protection ; if my family is among the
number of these, I can not leave the army. In the
other case, I shall return after some years service, to
live and die with my relations and friends ; and like
you, rest my head beneath the soil I love so well.
Everything makes me hope that after the stormy life of
our youth is passed, we shall live to see many happy
days afterwards."

The two friends separated after a long and affec-
tionate conversation, the last they were to have in
that colony which was as yet called New France.

314

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

When ihti reader sees them again several years after-
wards, the colony will have changed its name and
masters.

CHAPTER XV.

-^--tOi^=—

THE SHIPWRECK OF THE

" AUGUSTUS."

The predictions of the sorceress of the domain-
were fulfilled. The once opulent family of d'Haberville,
after the capitulation of Quebec, had been only too
happy to accept the hospitality, which Monsieur d'Eg-
mont offered them in his cottage, whose seclusion had
saved it from being burnt. The good gentleman and
my uncle Raoul, assisted by the faithful Francoeur,
had at once set to work ; they had partitioned off bed-
rooms in the garret, so as to leave the ground floor to
the women. The men, in order to raise the courage
of those unhappy ladies, affected a gaiety which was
far from their hearts ; and their songs might often be
heard, mingled with the smart strokes of the hatchet,
the creaking of the saw, and the shrill whistling of
the plane. By means of hard work and perseverance,
they succeeded, not only in sheltering themselves from
the inclemency of the climate, but also in being
tolerably well lodged ; and if it had not been for the
anxiety they felt for captain d'Haberville and his Son,
exposed to the chances of war, they would have
passed the winter agreeably enough in their solitude.
Their greatest difficulty was to obtain food, for the
dearth of provisions in the country was frightful ; the
greater number of the habitants for want of a mill to
grind what little wheat they had got in, ate it boiled, (a)

THE SFIIPWRECK OP THE "AUGUSTUS."

215

The only resource was hunting and Ashing, but mon-
sieur d'Egmont and his servant were rather too old to
devote themselves to these sports during a severe
winter. My uncle Raoul, although lame, took on
himself the provision department. He set snares for
hares and partridges in the woods, and his charming
niece assisted him. She had arranged herself a cos-
tume, adapted for tnei,-^ pursuits, and looked most
charming in her half Indian, half French habiliments.
Her petticoat was of blue cloth, and came nearly to
her ancles ; she wore scarlet gaiters, and mocassins
embroidered with beads and porcupine quills of bright
and picturesque colors. She was very charming,
when on her little snow shoes, with her complexion
heightened by exercise, she arrived at the house, laden
with hares and partridges. As, during this scarcity,
the habitants frequented the Three Salmons lake, they
had beaten a hard road on the snow, and along this
the chevalier managed to travel in an indian sleigh,
drawn by a large dog ; he always returned with an
ample provision of excellent trout and partridges,
which he had shot amongst the lake mountains. This
game and fish were their only resources during the
long winter. The manna of wild-pigeons, v/hich
appeared the following spring, saved the colony ; they
were in such numbers, that they could be knocked
down with sticks.*

When captain d'Haberville returned to his seigniory,
he was completely ruined, having only saved his
plate from the wreck of his property. He did not for
an instant think of claiming the considerable arrears of
rent, owed him by his impoverished tenants ; but made
haste to come to their aid, by robiiilding his mill on
the Three Salmons river, and he himself with his
family lived there for several years, until lie had
sufficient means to liiiild a now manor-liou'se.

Three tiny rooms in a mill formed but a small

* AH the old habitants that I have known, agree in saying that they
vroaU have died of hunger, had it not beon tor this manna of pigeons.

They cotild knock them down with sticks.

216

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

lodging, for the formerly so opulent family of the d'Ha-
bervilles ? However, they bore up bravely, under the
privations to which they were exposed ; only captain
d'Haberville, though exerting himself energetically,
could not resign himself to the loss of his fortune ; his
misfortunes preyed upca his mind, and for six years no
smile was seen on his face. It was only when his
manor-house was rebuilt, and a certain air of comfort
again pervaded his household, that he resumed his
natural gaiety.*

It was on the 22nd of February, 1762, and at about
nine o'clock in the evening, that a shabby looking
stranger entered the mill and asked hospitality for the
night. Captain d'Haberville was sitting, as he was
wont to do, when unemployed, in a corner of the room,
with his head bent down, and his mind absorbed in
sad reflections. Great strength of mind is needed by
one, who has fallen from opulence to comparative
poverty, to enable him to overcome all the annoyances
and humiliations of his position, and above all, when
he is the father of a family. Great courage is neces-
sary, when this ruin is brought on, not by his own want
of foresight, his expensive tastes, his extravagance,
or his bad conduct, but is the inevitable consequence
of circumstances, over which he has had no control.
In the former case there is poignant remorse ; but a
sensible man says " I have deserved my fate, and I
must submit with resignation, to the misfortunes occa-
sioned by my own folly !"

Monsieur d'Haberville had not even the consolation
of remorse ; he brooded over his troubles and inces-
santly said to himself :

" My God ! it seems to me that I have not deserved
such misfortunes, give me strength and courage, oh

* By recording the misfortunes of own family, I have tried to give some
dea of tlie distress of tlie greater part of the Canadian nobility who were
ruined by the conquest, and whose reduced descendant* vegetated oo the
same soil that their ancestors had conquered and watered with their Mood.
Let those who accuse them of want ot talent and energy remember, that
with their military education, it was very difficult for them to devote them-
selves at once to any other occupations than those they were already fami-
liar with.

THE SHIPWRECK OF THE "AUGUSTUS."

917

my God ! since thou hast made thy hand heavy on

»»

The stranger's voice made captain d'Habervillc
start, without his knowing why ; he was some time
without answering but at last said :

" My friend you are welcome ; you shall sup and
breakfast here and the miller will give you a bed in
his part of the house."

" Thank you " said the .stranger " but I am tired,
give me a glass of brandy."

Monsieur d'Habervillc hardly felt inclined to give
to an utter stranger, a sort of vagabond, a single glass
of the provision of wine and spirit, which was con-
tained in a small cellaret and which he kept, for cases
of sickness or of absolute necessity; he therefore
replied by a refusal, saying that he had none.

" If you knew me d'Habervillc," replied the stran-
ger " you certainly wo'ild not refuse me a glass of
brandy, even if it were the last you had in the
house." *

The captain's first impulse, on hearing himself ad-
dressed thus fari^iliarly by a .sort of vagabond, was
that of anger ; but there was something in the stranger's
IioUow voice which again startled him, and he res-
trained himself. Just then Blanche appeared with a
light and all the family were horror-struck at the sight
of the man, looking like a spectre, who standing with
folded arms, gazed sadly at them. Looking at him
as he .stood there motionless, his appearance was so
cadaverous, that one could almost have fancied that a
vampire had sucked all the blood from his veins. The
stranger looked, as if his bones were nearly through
his skin, which was as yellow as that of an Egyptian
mummy ; his eyes dull and sunk in their sockets
appeared to be without " speculation " like those of
Banquo's ghost at the supper of Macbeth, the assassin

# This scene between Mons. de St. Luc, who had escaped from the ship-
wreck of the " Augustus," and my grand-father Ignace Aubert de Gaspe^
captain of a detachment of marines, is related just exactly as it was told to
me My years ago by my paternal aunt Mme. Bailly du Messeio, who was
twelve years old at tne time of the conquest.

218

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

princo. All were surprised, that there remained suffi-
cient vitality in this body to enable i1 to move abou*

After one moment's hesitation, captain d'Haberville
threw himself into the stranger's arms, erxlaiming :

" You here, my dear Saint-Luc ; the sight of my
bitterest enemy could not horrify me so much ! speak,
and tell us, that all our relations and friends, passen-
gers in the "Augustus," are engulphed in the waves
and yon alone, having escaped <leath, bring us the
sad news."

The unbroken silence of Monrieur St. Luc de La-
come, the grief depicted on his countenance sufficiently
confirmed his friend's conjectures.*

" Cursed be the tyrant," exclaimed captain d'Ha-
berville, " who, in his hatred for the French, joyfully
exposetl the lives of so many worthy people, in an old
vessel that was not seaworthy, and during the stormy
season of the year."

" Instead of cursing your enemies," said Monsieur
de St. Luc, in a hoarse voice " thank God that you
and your family obtained from the English Governor,
a respite of two years, before being obliged to go to

France, f Now

give

me some brandy and a little

soup ; I have suffered so much from hunger, that my
stomach refuses all solid food. Let me take a little
repose also, before relating the sad occurrences, whose
recital will make you shed many tears."

After the expiration of about half-an-hour, for this
man of steel required but a short time to recniit his
strength. Monsieur de St. Luc began his tale :

" Notwithstanding the British Governor's impa-

* The old Canadian families who remnine<lin Canada aflerthe conquent,
used to relate that general Murray acting only from his hatred of the French,
insisted on their precipitate ejectment ; that he made them embark on board
an old vessel that had long been condemned, and that, previous to their
departure he would oiler, say, with a volley of oaths : " One cannot tell the
" conquerors from the conquered when one sees those d . . . . d French-
" men walking about with their uniforms and their swords." This sinry
was current in my young days.

f The author has always henrd that his grandfather was the only person
who obtained a respite of two years, so us to enable him to dispose of the
wrecks of his property. This was being far more fortunate than many
others who had to sell nt an enormons sacrifice.

THK SHIPWRECK OP THE "AUGUSTUS.

219

tience to send from New France those who had so
gallantly defended it, tlie authorities had placed only
two vessels at our disposal ; and they were insufficient
lo carry the large number of Frencli and Canadians
who were compelled to embark for Europe. I re-
marked this to General Murray, and proposed buying
one, at my own expense. He refused me ; but two
days afterwards placed at our disposal the 'Augustus,'
which had been hastily got ready for the purpose. By
means of the sum of five hundred Spanish dollars, I
obtained from the English captain, the exclusive use
ofjiijs cabin for myself and my family."

" I then made general Murray remark the danger, to
which we should be exposed, in the stormy season,
with a captain who did not know the St. Lawrence
river ; offering to engage a river pilot, at my own ex-
panse. His answer was that we should not be more
ejcposed than the others. However he at length des-
patched a little boat, with order.s to escort us to the
last anchorage."

" We were all sad and discouraged, and we were
a prey to sad forebodings, when we raised the anchor
on. the 15th of last October. A great many among us,
obliged to sell their movables and immovables in a
huxry, had done so at an immense sacrifice, and only
IooJ(£d forward to a very sad future, even on the soil
of .their mother country. Our hearts were very full
then, when, sailing along with a favorable wind, we
saw disappearing from our view the isles so long
familiar to us, which recalled such sacred memories.

*' I will speak briefly only of the dangers, which
we ran at the commencement of our voyage, and
.come at once to the great disaster, from which only I and
six other men escaped alive. On the sixteenth we were
'\vithin a hair's breadth of shipwreck, near I'lle-aux-
Coudres, where we were blown by a strong breeze,
after having lost our large anchor.

^* On the fourth of November, we were overtaken by
a frightful storm, which lasted two days, and did us
great damage. On the seventh, a fire, which we had

S90

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

much trouble in extinghui^ing, broke out for the third
time in the kitchen, and we were nearly being burnt
on the open sea. It would be difficult to paint the
scenes of distress, which took place during our eflforts
to obtain a mastery over Ihe flames.

" On the 11th, we were nearly perishing along the
coast of PIslc Royale, on an enormous rock, which
we passed within gunshot of, and which we did not
see till the ship was, so to say, dashing heraelf
against it.

" From the 13th to the 15th, we were driven at the
mercy of a violent storm, without knowing where
we were. We were obliged, as we best could, to
replace the crew ; for the men, worn out with fatigue,
had taken refuge in their hammocks and would not
leave them ; threats, promises, even blows had been
tried in vain. Our mizen mast being broken, our
sails toni to shreds and incapable of being clewed up,
or lowered, the first mate proposed as a last resource,
in this extremity, to run into shore ; it was a desperate
act ; the fatal moment arrived ! The captain and
mate looked sadly at me with clasped hanas. I but
too well understood this mute language of men, who
from their profession were accustomed to brave death.
We made the land to starboard, where we perceived
the mouth of a river, which might prove to be
navigable. Without concealing anything, I informed
the passengers of both sexes of this manoeuvre, which
was for life or death ! How many prayers were then
offered to the Supreme Being ! now many vows
made ! But alas ! the prayers and the vows were
ineffectual.

" Who could describe the fury of the waves ! The
storm had burst upon us in all its fury ; our masts
seemed to reach up to the clouds, and then to plunge
into the abyss. A terrible shock aimounced to us
that the ship had touched the bottom. We then cut
away the cordage and masts to lighten her and tiy to
float her again ; this came to pass, but the force of
the waves turned her over on her side. We had

THE SHIPWRECK OP THE "AUGUSTUS."

221

run aground, about a hundred and fifty feet from the
shore, in a little sandy cove, which barred the entrance
of the little river, where we Isad hoped to find a shelter.
As the ship was already leaking in every part, the
passengers all rushed on deck ; some even thinking
themselves in safety, threw themselves into the sea
and perished.

" Just then madame do Meziere arrived on the
deck, holding her young infant in her arms ; her
hair and her clothes were in disoroer : she was the
very picture of despair personnified. She knelt down ;
then perceiving me, she exclaimed " My dear de Saint-
Luc, it seems that we must die ! "

** I was running to her assistance, when an enor-
mous wave broke over the deck, and washed lier
away." (ft)

" My poor friend ! compamon of my childhood."
exclaimed madame d'Haberville sobbing violently ;
" my poor sister, nursed at the same bosom as myself?
They tried to make me believe, that I was a prey to
nervous over-excitement, brought on by anxiety of
mind, when in my sleep on the 17lh november, I saw
you bathed in tears, on the deck of the Augustus,
with your child in your arms, and then I saw you
disappear beneath the waves ! I was not mistaken ;
poor sister ! she wished to bid me farewell, before
mounting to heaven with the angel she was bearing in
her arms ! "

After some little time had been. spent in indulging
the painful emotions, which this recital had given rise
to, monsieur de Lacorne went on with his narrative :

** The crew and passengers had lashed themselves
to the shrouds and spars in order to resist the waves
which, breaking over the ship, were every moment
snatching fresh victims as their prey ; what else indeed
could be expected from enfeebled men and weak
women ! Our only remaining resource was the two
boats, the larger of which was carried away by a
wave, and dashed in pieces. The other was lowered
into the water, and a servant, named Stephen, sprang

22a

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

'-J

-f „•■■■'

Into it, as well a« tlu; cuptaiu, and several others. I only
perceived it when one of my children whom I was
holding in my arms, and the other who was fastened
to my bell, called out to mc, " try and save us, the
boat is in the water." I iiastily seized a ro|)e, and by
means of a tremendouM leap, fell into the boat ; the
same wave which saved my life, carried away my two
children."

The narrator after having paid the debt, which
nature exacted at the remembrance of his cruel loss,
made a gre:'t effort to conquer the emotion, which his
friends had shared in, and resumed :

" Although we were under the lee of the ship, a
wave nearly filled the boat ; a second wave bore us
away from the vessel, a tiiird threw us on the sand.
It would be difficult to describe the horror of this
terrible disaster, the cries of those siill on board the
ship, and the harrowing spectacle, presented by those
who, having thrown themselves into the waves, were
making useless efforts to gain the shore.

" Of the seven living men, who now found them-
selves on llie shore of that unknown land, I was, so to
speak, the only sound one. I had just lost my
brother and my children, and I had to crush back my
grief into the depths of my heart, to occupy myself in
saving the companions of my misfortunes. I suc-
ceeded in reviving the captain, who had fainted. The
others were benumbed with cold, for a chilling rain
was falling in torrents. Not wishing to lose sight of
the ship,* I gave them my powder flask, tinder, flint
and steel ; enjoining them to light a fire at the
entrance of the wood, which was a short distance from
the shore ; but they could not manage it ; they had
hardly strength even to come and tell me so, so over-
powered were they with cold and fatigue. After

* Mme. Elizabeth deChaptde Lacorne, Monsieur de St. Lao's daudM0f«
who died at Quebec, March Slat 1817, and was wife to the Hoa. Cuifleis
Tarieii de Lanaudierd, the author's uncle, used to tell us that th« Ifle ijtmir
father wid of his companions in misfortune had been saved, throogk his
having, at the commenoement of the disaster, taken the precaduon oT
plaeiBgn piece of tinder in a little leather bag, under his armpit.

IHE SlilPWRKCK OK THE "AIGUSTUS."

223

many atlcmpls, I succredt'd in li^liling a fire, and it
was time ; for these unfortunate men eould neither
speak nor move ; it was I who saved their lives.

" I at once returned to the shore, so as not to lose
sight of tiie vesHol, whicli was given u;i to all tlie fury
of the storm. I was in hopes of l)eing able to succor
some of the unfortunate creatures, that tlie sea was
continually throwing up on the shore, for every wave
which broke over the wreck, carried of some fresh
victim. I remained therefore on the beach from three
o'clock in the afternoon when we went aground, to
six o'clock in the evening when the vessel went to
pieces on the shore. It was a heart-rending sight,
which presented itself when the hundred and fourteen
corpses were stretched on the sand, many of them
with arms and legs broken, or bearing other marks
of the fury of the elements !

•' We passed a sleepless and nearly silent night, so
great was our consternation. The morning of the
16th, we returned to the beach, where the bodies of
the unfortunate companions of our shipwreck were
lying. Several had taken off their clothes, to try and
swim to land ; all more or less bore the marks of the
fury of the waves. We passed the day in performing
to them funeral rites, as iUr as our sad situation and
strength permitted.

" The next day we had to leave the mournful and
inhospitable shore, and penetrate into the interior of
this unknown land. The winter had come in all its
severity ; we had to travel through snow, up to our
knees. Often we were obliged to go a long distance
round, in order to cross the frozen, waters of the
rivers which intercepted our way. My companions
where so exhausted with hunger and fatigucj that I
often had to make these little journeys several times,
in order to carry their packages, which they had not
had the strength to carry. They were completely
disheartened, and I was often obliged to make shoes
to protect their bleeding feet.

" We thus dragged ourselves, or rather I took them

p>^

THE CANADIANS OF OLD. .

as one might say in tow, (for neither my courage nor
my strength failed me), till the 4th december when
we met with two Indians ; to paint the joy, the
extacy of my companions, who had been every moment
expecting that death would put an end to their
sufferings, would be beyond any powers of descrip-
tion. The aborigines did not recognize me at first,
seeing me with a long beard, and so altered, as I was
by so many sufferings. I had formerly rendered
great service to their nation, and you know these
children of nature are never wanting in gratitude.
They received me with the liveliest demonstrations
of joy ; all of us were saved. I then learnt that we
were on Cape-Breton island, thirty leagues from
Louisbourg.

** I at once decided on leaving my companions at
the first Acadian settlement we passed, quite sure that
they would receive every attention ; and on proceeding
myself to Quebec to give General Murray the first
news of our shipwreck. It is useless, my dear friends,
to relate to you all the particulars of my journey since
then ; my crossing from the island to the mainland,
in a birch canoe, in the midst of the ice, where I was
nearly perishing ; my marches and counter-marches
through the woods ; let it suffice to sav, that according
to my reckoning, I have travelled five hundred and
fifty leagues on snow-shoes. I was often obliged to
change guides ; for .1 the end of a week's march, the
strength of Acadian md Indian alike was ex-
hausted."

After this affecting narrative the d'Haberville family
passed a part of the night in weeping the loss of so
many relations and friends, who had been expelled
from theii new country by a barbarous mandate ; of
so many French and Canadians, who were hoping to
console themselves for their losses, in the land of their
forefathers. It was, indeed, a cruel fate which befell
these unfortunate people, whose bodies, the sea in its
fuiy had hurled back on the shore of that very New

THK SHIPWRECK OF THE •'AUGUSTUS."

220

'France which they hail cohmisccl and (Icfondecl with
heroic courage.*

Monsieur de St. Luc only took a icw hours rest, as
he wished to be tlio first to communicate tlie catas-
troplie of the Augustus to the English general, and
to present himself before him as a living protest,
against the scntenro of death which seemed to have
been pronounced in i!old blood, against so many unfor-
tunate victims, against so many brave soldiers, whose
valor on tlie field of battle he ought to have appre-
ciated, and whom he must have esteemed had his
heart been capable of exalted feeling. Perhaps his
defeat of the preceding year rankled too deep in that
heart, to leave room for any other feelings than those
of hatred and revenge.

" Do you know d'Haberville " said Mons. de St.
Luc during breakfast "who the powerful protector is,
who has obtained for you from General Murray a
respite of two years, to enable you to sell your pro-
perly to better advantage.? do you know to whom you
and your family owe your lives, which you would
probably have lost in our wreck.' "

" No," said Mons. d'Haberville " I am quite una-
ware who this protector can be, who is sufficiently
powerful to obtain such a favor for me ; but, on my
honor as a gentleman, I shall bo everlastingly grate-
ful to him for it."

" Well, my friend, it is to the young Scotchman,
Archibald Locheill, that you owe this eternal grati-
tude."

" I have forbidden" exclaimed th' captain "that

* After Mr. dc St. Luc's narrative, my aunt Baiily de Messein would
say, we passed the reste of the niglit weeping and lamenting the loss of our
relations and friends who had perii^hed in the ''Augustus."

The author had first written the account of the shipwreck ol the ** Au-
gustus," from his recollection of the account given of it by his two aunts
when he was quite young ; he could also remember, though not very dis-
tinctly, having sixty years previously read the statements made by Mr. de
St. Luc, which were publisned at Montreal in 1778, and which were in the
possession of Mme. Charles de Lanaudiere. In spite of theso reminiscences
thisjversion could only be a very inaccnrate one, but, after many reoearches,
he learnt that this pamphlet was in the possession of the nuns of the Gene-
ral Hospital, who had the kindness to lend it to him, and thus enabled him
to correct some errors he had made in his first account.

226

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

the name of that viper which I warmed in my bosc m^
should be pronounced in my presence ! "

And Monsieur d'Haberville's large black eyes
ilashed fire.*

'* I presume, " said Monsieur de St. Luc, " that
this prohibition does not extend to me ; I am the
friend of your childhood, your brother in arms, and
I know the whole extent of the duties, to which
honor obliges us ; and you shall not answer me as
you answered your sister, the superioress of the
General Hospital, when she wished to plead the
cause of an innocent young man : " enough my sister ;
" you are a holy woman, obliged by your state to
" pardon your bitterest enemies, even those who are
** sullied by the blackest ingratitude towards you ;
" but I, my sister, you well know never forget an
" injury ; I cannot help it ; it is a part of my nature.
" If it be a sin, God has denied me the necessary grace
" to correct myself of it. Enough, my sister, never

((

pronounce his name in my presence, or I shall
" cease to hold any communication with you." No,
my dear friend, continued Monsieur de St. Luc, you
will not answer me thus, and you will listen to what
I am going to say. "

Monsieur d'Haberville knowing too well the duties
of hospitality, to attempt to impose silence on his
friend beneath his own roof, was silent, knit his thick
eyebrows, lowered his eyelids, so as to hide his eyes
and resigned himself to listen to Monsieur St. Luc
with the amiable look of a criminal to whom the
judge undertakes tc prove in a very eloquent dis-
course, that he has deserved the sentence he is going
to pronounce on hin\

* The author tlxinks that vindicliveness is the most difficult to conquer
of all the passions. He once knew a man excellent in very other respect,
w^o had frequently to struggle with this terrible passion. He tried to par-
don, but superhuman efforts were necessary to enable him to do so. He did
pardou, aou yet could not pardon, it was a continued struggle with him,
even auer having pronounced pardon and amnesty ; for if any one men-
tioned the name of the person who had ofienued him, hia couatenance
would suddenly alter, and his eyes dart fire ; it was very sad to 866 him
when he was thus struggling agaiust his own vindictive disposition.

THE SHIPWRECK OP THE '»AUGTJSTUS."

227

Monsieur de St. Luc gave a concise account of
LocheilPs conduct, whilst striving against his impla-
cable enemy Major Montgomery. He spoke forcibly
of the duty of a soldier, who must obey even the fre-
quently unjust orders of his superior officer ; he drew
a touching picture of the young man's anguish and
added :

" As soon as Locheill was informed that you had
received the order to embark with us for Europe, he
requested an audience with the English General,
which was at once granted."

" Ca^toin Locheill " said Murray presenting him
with the commission of this new step, I was just
going to send for you. " A witness of your exploits
on our glorious field of battle in 1759, I hastened to
ask the command of a company for you ; and I (nnst
add that your subsequent convl ct has also proved to
me, that you are worthy of the favo/s of the British
Government, and of all that I individually can do to
obtain them for you."

" I am happy. General," replied Locheill " that
your recommendation has been the cause of my
obtaining promotion, far above my feeble services, and
I beg you to accept my thanks for this favor, which
emboldens me to ask you another service, since you
assure me of your good wishes. Oh i yes, General,
it is a very great favor that I have to ask."

" Speak, Captain," said Murray " for I am willing
to do a great deal for you."

" Were it for myself," replied Archy " 1 could
desire nothing further ; but it is for others that I have
to ask a favor and not for myself personally. The family
of d'Haberville, ruined like so many others by our
conquest, has received orders from your Excellency
to depart very soon for France ; and they have been
unable to sell even at a very great sacrifice the small
property which remains to them from the wreck of a
fortune, that was forrherly a handsome one. I beg of
you, General, grant them two years, to put their
affairs a little in order. Your Excellciicy knows,
15*

B^mmmmmm

228

THE CANADLVNS OP OLD.

that I owe much to this family, who heaped kind-
nesses on me, during ten years' residence in this
colony. It was I, who, obeying the orders of my
superior officer, completed their ruin by setting fire
to their property of St. Jean-Port-Joli. General, I ask
as a favor for a two years' respite for them, and by
granting it you will releave my conscience of a heavy
burden ! "

" Captain Locheill," said General Murray in a
severe tone of voice " I am surprised to hear you
intercede for the d'Habervilles, who have shewn them-
selves our most determined enemies."

" It is only doing them justice. General," replied
Archy, " to acknowledge tliat they fought bravely in
defence of their country, as we also did to conquer it ;
and it is with confidence that I plead to a brave and
gallant soldier for brave and gallant enemies."

Locheill had touched a wrong chord, for the defeat
of the previous year rankled in Murray's heart, and
besides he was not a man of refined feelings. He
therefore replied sharply :

" It is impossible, Sir ; I cannot revoke the order I
have already given: the d'Habervilles will leave
tomorrow\"

" In that case," said Archy, " will your Excellence
be so kind, as to accept my resignation."

" What, Sir ! " exclaimed the General turning
white with anger.

" Will your Excellency," replied Locheill quite
coolly, " be so kind as to accept my resignation, and
allow me to serve as a private soldier ; those who
seek to point their finger in scorn at the monster of
ingratitude, who, after having been loaded with
kindness by a whole family, aliens to him by birth,
completed its ruin without being able to mitigate its
woes, will have more trouble in recognising him in
the ranks, in the uniform of a private, than at the head
of irreproachable men." •

And anew he offered his commission to the General.
The latter changed from white to red alternately,

THE SHIPWRECK OF THE "AUGUSTUS."

229

turned on his heel as on a pivot, bit his lip, passed
his hand several times across his forehead, muttered
something like an oath between his teeth, appeared
to be considering for a moment whilst walking up
and down the room, and then suddenly becoming
calm, held out his hand to Archy, and said to him :

" Captain Locheill, I appreciate the feelings which
prompt your conduct ; our sovereign must not be
deprived of services, which a man, who is ready to
sacrifice his future for the sake of a debt of gratitude,
would be capable of rendering him in the far highest
grades ; your friends shall stay."

" I thank you, a thousand times, I thank you,
General," said Archy, " rely upon my devotion when-
ever you put it to the proof, even if you tell me to
walk up to the cannon's mouth alone. I have had a
great weight on my heart, but now I feel as light as
our mountain-deer.

Of all the passions, which torture man's heart,
revenge and jealousy are the most difficult to over-
come ; it is indeed very rarely that they are entirely
extirpated. Captain d'Habervi lie after having listened
to Monsieur Lacorne's recital knitting his brows,
only said :

" I see that Monsieur Locheill's services have been
appreciated at their full value ; as for me, I was not
at all aware that I c ,ved so much to him."

And he changed the conversation.

Monsieur de St. Luc looked from one to the other
of the family who, with heads bent down, had not
dared to take part in the conversation, and rising from
table, added :

" This respite, d'flabeiville, is a very fortunate cir-
cumstance for you ; for you may rest assured that in
two years time from now, you v/ill be free to stay in
Canada or go to France. The English Governor has
too much to answer for to his government, in having
devoted to nearly a certain death, so many distinguished
people, so many gentlemen allied to the most illus-
trious families, both of this continent, and of England,

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

dot to seek, by conciliating the Canadians to conceal
the consequences of this deplorable catastrophe."

" Now fatewell, my dear friends ; itisonly the weak-
minded, who allow themselves to be cast down by
misfortune. One great consolation remains tons ; we
did all that brave men could do ; and if it had been
possible to keep our new country, our hearts and our
arms would have done so."

It was late at night when, on amving in Quebec,
Monsieur de St, Luc presented himself at the gate of
St. Louis castle, where entrance was refused him ;
but he begged so earnestly, saying he >vas the bearer
of news of the greatest importance, that at last an
aide-de-camp consented to awaken the governor^ who
had long been in bed.* At first Murray did not reco-
gnise Monsieur de St. Luc, and angrily asked him
how he had dared to disturb him and what pressing
affair he had to communicate to him at so unsea-
sonable an hour.

" A very important affair, indeed. Sir, for I am
Captain de St. Luc and my being here tells you the
rest."

A livid paleness spread over the General's features ;
he had some refreshments served, treated Monsieur
Lacorne with the greatest consideration, and made
him relate every detail of the shipwreck of the
'* Augustus*" He was no longer the same man who
had so heartlessly devoted to death (so to speak) all
those brave officers at whose uniforms he had taken
umbrage, f

Monsieur de Lacorne's predictions were verified ;
Governor Murray, considerably softened after the
" Augustus' " catastrophe treated the Canadians

* Historical. — My aunt, Mr. de St. Luu's daughter, has often described
to me her lather's interview with General Murray.

f The author, whilst recording the traditions of his youth, must remark
that there must have been a great prejudice against Governor Murrajr, and
that most probably cainmny did not spare him. Mr. de St. Luc, in his
journal, speaks more in his praise than otherwise, but report says, that this
leniency arose from the Governor's subsequent conduct towards the Cana-
dians ; particularly from the high favor in which he, Mr. de St. Luc, was
held by Murray.

THE SHIPWRECK OF THE "AUGUSTUS."

281

more kindly, even with more consideration, and
all who wished tc stay in the colony had liberty to do
so. Above all, Monsieur de St. Luc, whose revela-
tions perhaps he feared, became the object of his
attentions; and could congratulate himself on the
attentions the Governor shewed him. This worthy
man, who, like so many others, had suffered much in
his means, which, before the cession of Canada, had
been very considerable, applied himself energetically
to repairing his losses by embarking in profitable
speculations, (c)

CHAPTER XVI.

<$e$5^

OE LOCHEILL AND BLANCHE.

After enduring cruel privations, for the space of
seven long years, peace and even happiness began to
dawn again on the d'Haberville family. It is true
that a house of a somewhat humble appearance had
replaced the large and opulent manor-house, which
this family had occupied before the conquest; but it
was a palace, compared to the mill, which they
had left that spring. The d'Habervilles had suffered
les3 than many others in the same position: loved
and respected by their tenants, they had never been
exposed to the humiliations, which the vulgar love to
heap upon their superiors when in distress ; as it is
peculiar to well born people to treating their inferiors
with consideration, the d'Habervilles had in conse-
quence suffered less, in their comparative poverty,
th^n many others in the same circumstances. All
vied with each other in offers of service ; and when

mmmmmmmmimmmmmma

232

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

it was decided to rebuild the manor-house and its
out-buildings, the whole parish at once ticnl volunteer
relays of men to help on the work ; and from the zeal
with which all worked, it seemed as if they were each
of them rebuilding his own dwelling. All these fine-
hearted people tried to make their seignior forget the
misfortunes, which they themselves had lilcewise
experienced, but which they seemed to say they alone
had deserved. With that delicate tact of which only.
Frenchmen are capable, they never entered the pri-
vate rooms of the family at the mill without being,
invited ; it seemed as if they feared to humiliate them.
If they were affectionate and polite to their Seignior
in his day of opulence, it was a sort of worship which
they paid him, now that the iron hand of mis-
fortune had crushed him down.* It is only those
who have experienced great reverses of fortune, who
have been exposed to long and painful privations, that
can appreciate the contentment, joy, and even happi-
ness of those who have partly repaired their losses,
who begin once more to feel some hope of a happy
future. Before, every one respected the grief which
preyed upon Captain d'Haberville : the family party
spoke in low lones : and French light-heartedness had
seemed for ever banished from this melancholy dwel-
ling. Now, all was changed, as if by enchantment.
The captain, who was naturally gay, laughed and joked
about his misfortunes ; the ladies sang incessantly
whilst busied with household cares, and my uncle
Raoul's sonorous voice again woke the echoes of the
promontary, on the calm of fine evenings.

The faithful Jose was in every place at once, to
prove his zeal in his master's service ; and by way of
recreation, he related to the neighbors, who always

* Historical. The author recalls with pleasure the proofs ot' attachment
towards his family which the habitants of St. Jean-Port-Joli have shown for
more than the last hundred years. Nine years ago, at the time that the seig-
norial rights were abolished, the churchwardens of the parish of St. Jean-
Fort-Joli, decided that, notwithstanding the Act of parliament being
adverse to it, X should remain in possession of the seignorial pew during my
life-time. This gratifying mark of attachment was communicated to me
by Peter Dumas, Esquire, who was then the churchwarden in office.

DE LOCHEILL AND BLANCHE.

233

came to spend part of tlie evening, the untoward
meeting, (as he called it) of his defunct father with the
goblins of the Isle of Orleans ; his troubles with La
Corriveau, and other tales of which his audience were
never tired, without considering the night-mares to
which they exposed themselves during their nocturnal
dreams.

It was the end of August of the same ycav 1767.
Captain d'Haberville, who was returning in the morn-
ing from the little river Port-Joli, with his gun upon
his shoulder, and a gamebag well filled with plovers,
woodcocks and teal, noticed, that a boat putting off
from a vessel which anchored between the land and the
Pillier-de-Roche, seemed to be rowing towards his
domain. He sat down on the edge of a rock to wait
for it, thinking it must contain sailors in search of vege-
tables, milk, and other refreshments, (a) He hastened
to meet them, when they neared the shore, and saw,,
with surprise, that one of them, very well-dressed,
gave a packet to a sailor pointing out the manor-house
to him ; but at the sight of Monsieur d'Haberville, he
seemed at once to alter his mind ; advanced towards
Mm, handed the packet to him and said :

** I should not have ventured to deliver this packet
to you myself. Captain d'Haberville, although it con-
tains news which will please you very much."

" And why, Sir, " replied the captain, racking his
memory to find out who this person could be, whom
he thought he had seen before ; " why, Sir, would
you not have ventured to deliver this packet into my
own hand, if chance had not made me go and meet
you .?"

" Because, Sir," said the speaker hesitating, " be-
cause I should have feared that it might have been
disagreeable to you to receive it from my hand ; I
know that captain d'Haberville never forgets a kind-
ness nor an injury."

Mons. d'Haberville looked fixedly at the stranger,
knit his eyebrows, shut his eyes close, and for some
time kept silence, a prey to an internal struggle ; but

234

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

regaining liis self-possession lie answered him with
the greatest politeness :

" Let us leave the wrongs of the past to be settled
by our consciences ; you are my guest, captain
Locheill, and besides, being the bearer of letters from
my son, you have a right to be well received by me ;
all my family will be glad to see you again. You
will receive at my house a hospitality .".... (he was
going to say bitterly, princely, but feeling the reproach
that would be implied by his words) " you will receive
a cordial hospitality ; come, let us go."

The lion was only half appeased.

Archy acting on a natural impulse put out his hand
to shake that of his old friend, but he had to stretch out
his own very far, the one he clasped remained cold
and stiff in his grasp.

A deep sigh escaped from the Scotchman. Over-
powered by painful emotions, he, for some moments
seemed undecided what to do, but at last said in a
broken voice :

" Captain d'Haberville may harbor resentment
against a young man, whom he formerly loved and
loaded with favors, but he is too high-souled and kind-
hearted wantonly to inflict on him a punishment
beyond his strength : to see once more the spots, which
recall such sad remembrances to his mind will of
itself be sufficiently painful, without meeting there
only the cold reception that hospitality towards a
stranger demands."

" Farewell, captain d'Haberville ; farewell, for ever
to him whom I formerly called my father, though He
now no longer looks on me as a son; though that son
has always felt for him the affectionate gratitude due
to a tender father. I take heaven to witness Mons.
d'Haberville that my life has been embittered by
remorse, ever since the fatal day when the imperious
duty of a subaltern compelled me to perforrh acts of
vandalism, at which my very soul revolted ; that a
crushing weight was on my heart, as much amid
the intoxication of military triumph and the deliribus

DE LOCHEILL AND BLANCHE.

235

joys of balls and {eastings, as in the silence of my
long sleepless nights.

" Farewell, for ever ; for I see that you have refused
to listen to the good superioress' account of my re-
morse, my anguish, my despair, before and after the
work of destruction, which, as a soldier, subject to
military discipline, I was obliged to accomplish.
Farewell, for the last time ; and since all intercourse
must cease between us, tell me, oh ! tell me, I beg of
you, that your excellent family are again in peace,
and that joy once more irradiates those counte-
nances, on which formerly tranquillity and light-
heartedness were pictured ! oh ! tell me, I beg of you
that you are not still unhappy ! And now all I can
do, is on my knees to pray God to shed his blessings
on a family that I love so dearly ! To oifer to repair
the losses I have caused, by means of my fortune
which is now considerable, would be an insult to the
noble d'Haberville !"

If Mons. d'Haberville had refused to listen to any
explanations oflered by his sister, still he had not be< n
insensible to Mons. St. Luc's recital of how Loclieill,
in his sublime self-devotion, was ready to sacrifice his
fortune and his future to his exalted ideas of gratitude.
Thence arose the half-cordial reception which he had
at first offered him ; for we can easily imagine that
had he not received this favorable impression, he
would at once have turned his back on him.*

The words, pecuniary compensation, first made
Mons. d'Habers'ille shudder as if he had been scorched
with a hot iron ; but deeply occupied with other
thoughts, and other internal struggles, this impatient
gesture was but transient. He clutched at his breast
with both hands as if he was trying to root out the
rest of the poison, which, in spite of him, clung round
his heart, turned two or three times first towards

* The author, who, in spite of desiring above all things to do so, could
never bear ill-will to even his most inveterate enemies for 24 hours, has
studied this passion in others, with painful interest. This perpetual rebelling
of a vindictive nature against noble and generous impulses, has always
1)een an enigma to him.

980

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

Locheill, and tlien in a contrary direction, made a
sign for him to remain where he was, then walked
quickly up and down the sand on the shore, and then
took slower steps ; at last returning to Locheill, he
said to him :

" I have done all I can Archy, to get rid of the last
vestige of ill-feeling ; but you know me ; it will be
the work of time to efface the last traces. All that I
can tell you, is, that in my heart I forgive you. My
sister, the Superioress, has told me all ; I made up my
mind to listen to her after my friend St. Luc had told
me of your intercession with the Governor in my
behalf I have thought that one who was ready to
sacrifice rank and fortune for his friends, can have
acted under constraint, in the circumstances to which
I allude for the last time. If from time to time, you
remark some '^oldness in my demeanor towards you,
do not pay any attention to it, but let time do its own
work."

And he cordially pressed LochellPs hand. The
lion was entirely tamed.

" As it is likely," said Monsieur d'Haberviile,
" that this calm weather will last some time, send
away your sailors, after I have sent them some re-
freshment ; and if by chance a favorable wind springs
up, I will have you taken to Quebec in six hours, on
my celebrated mare " Lubine," that is to say, if your
business will prevent your giving us as long a time
as we should be happy to keep you beneath our roof.
That is settled, is it not .?"

And passing his arm familiarly within Archy's,
they took the road to the house.

" Now, Archy," said the captain, " how comes it
that you are encharged with these letters from my
son, which, as you have just said, contain good
news .^"

" I left Jules in Paris," replied Archy, " seven
weeks ago, after having passed a month with him at
his uncle. Monsieur de Germain's, who did not wish
to separate me from my friend during my stay in

DE LOCMEILL AND BLANCHE.

237

France ; but as it will bo more agreeable to you to
learn all about this good news from his own hand-
writing, allow me now to say no more."

If Locheill was grieved at seeing what used to be
called before the conquest, the hamlet of Ilaberville,
replaced by three or four buildings, nearly similar
to those belonging to wealthy habitants, yet he was
agreeably surprised at the smiling aspect of the do-
main. The new and recently white-washed build-
ings, the garden, enamelled with flowers, the two
orchards filled with the finest fruits, the hay-makers
returning from the meadow, with two carts loaded
with fragrant hay, all helped to dissipate the feeling
of sadness which he had at first experienced.

With the exception of a sofa, twelve mahogany
arm-chairs and some little articles of furniture, which
had been saved from the fire, the interior of the house
was furnished very simply ; the tables, chairs and
other pieces of furniture were of common wood, the
partitions were uupainted and the floors uncarpeted.
The family portraits, which were the pride of the
d'Habervilles no longer occupied their proper place
in the dining room, the only ornaments of the new
rooms, consisted of some fir-trees placed in the cor-
ners, and an abundance of flowers, placed in baskets
made by the natives of the country ; still there was a
charm, even in this absence of costly furniture ; the
emanations of these firs, flowers and new re-
sinous wood, which one inhaled freely seemed to
strengthen the body and rejoice the sight. Every-
where there was tiie fragrance of cleanliness, which
more than compensated for the absence of more
sumptuous furniiure.

All the family, who had seen Mons. d'Habervillc
coming accompanied by a stranger, had assembled in
the salon to receive him. With the exception of
Blanche, no one recognised Archy, whom they had
not seen for ten years. The young girl turned pale
and trembled at the sight of the friend of her child-
hood, whom she thought she would never have seen

288

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

■^4

again ; but quickly recovering licr composure with
that slrongtli of mind with which women conceal
even their liveliest emotions, she, like the other two
ladies, made him the deep courtesy she would have
made to a stranger. Ah for my uncle Raoul, he
bowed with cold politeness ; he did not like the
English, and since the conquest had been in the
habit of swearing against them with an unction that
was far from edifying to pious ears.

" May an Iroquois broil me," said the captain ad-
dressing Archy, " if a single one of them knows you.
See ; look well at this gentleman ; ten years can not
have effaced him from your memory, I recognised
him immediately. Speak Blanche, you, being by far
the youngest, ought to have better eyes than the
others."

" I think," said she in a iow voice, " that it is
Mons. Locheill."

" Why ! yes !" said Mons. d'Haberville, is

Archy who has recently seen Jules in Paris ; aaa he
brings us letters which contain good news. What
are you doing, Archy, that you do not embrace your
old friends }"

All the family, who till then had not been aware of
the captain's change in favor of Archy, (whose name
ihey had never ventured to pronounce in his pre-
sence), all tlio family who were only waiting for the
head of the family's permission to give Archy the
most friendly reception, now showed their joy in a
manner which affected Archv to tears.

Jules' last letter contained the following passage :
" I have been drinking the Barege waters for my
" wounds, and although 1 am still weak, I am rapidly
*' getting well. The doctors say that repose is ne-
" cessary for me, and that the exertions of war will
" long be beyond my strength, I have an indefinite
" leave of absence to give me time to regain my

" strength. My relation the minister D and

" all my friends, advise me to leave the army, to
*' return to Canada my whole family's new country,

DE LOCHEILL AND BLANCHE.

939

" apd to establish nivself thero definitively after
" having taken the oath of allegiance to the English
" Crown ; but I do not like to do anything without
" consulting you. My brother Archy, who has power-
" ful friends m England, has remitted me a letter of
" introduction to your governor Guy Carleton, who is
" said to be very attentive to the Canadian nobility,
** whose glorious antecedents he well knows. If
" therefore I decide on settling in Canada, I shall
** have hopes of being of une to my poor countrymen.
" God willing, I shall have the happiness of embracing
" you all, towards the end of next September. Oh !
"what a pleasure, after such a long separation."*

Jules added in a postscript :

" I was forgetting to tell you, that I have been pre-
'* sented to the king who received me kindly ; and
" even complimented it very highly on what he
" called my noble conduct, naming me Chevalier-
** Grand-Croix of the right honorable royal and mili-
" tary order of St. Louis. I do not know what sorry-
" jester of a grand personage got this favor for me ;
" as if, every Frenchman, wrio wore a sword, had
" not made use of it at least as well as I did ; I could
" mention ten officers of my division who deserved
" being decorated instead of me. It is true that I
" had the precious advantage over them of having got
" myself slashed about like a madman at every en-
" counter with the enemy. It is really a pity, that
" the order of madmen has not been instituted, for
" then I should have been more justly entitled to my
" rank of knight, than I am to that which his most
** Christian Majesty has just conferred on me. Still I
" hope this act will not close the gates of paradise
" against him ; and that St. Peter will find some
" other peccadilloes to object to, for otherwise I should
" be in despair."

Archy could not help smiling at the words " Most

* Lord Dorche.ster always treated the Canadian nobiliiywiththe highest
consideration; he always evinced great sympathy when speaking of their
misfortunes.

iH«S

240

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

Clirislian Majesty," he thought he saw his friend's
satirical look when writing this phrase !

" Always the same !" said Monsieur d'Haberville.

" Only thinking of others !" they all cried in
chorus.

" I will wager my head against a shilling," said
Archy, " that he would have been far better pleased
to see one of his friends decorated."

" What a son !" said the mother.

" What a brother !" added Blanche.

" Ah ! yes ! what a brother," said Archy, with
much feeling.

" And what a nephew I have formed then,"
exclaimed my uncle Raoul, cutting the air up and
down with his cane, as if he had been armed with a
cavalry sabre.

" That is a prince who knows how to appreciate
merit and reward it ; that Majesty of France is no
fool, it knows that with a hundred officers like Jules,
it can resume the offensive, overrun Europe with
victorious armies, cross the straits like another Wil-
liam, crush proud Albion, and retake its colonies !

And my uncle Raoul again cut the air with his
cane, to the imminent peril of those who wished to
preserve intact their eyes, nose and teeth, which were
seriously endangered by this new style of charge.
The chevalier then looked at every one with a proud
and well-satisfied look, and with the assistance of his
cane, went and seated himself in an arm-chair to
repose himself, after the laurels he had gathered for
the King of France with a hundred officers like his
nephew.

Locheill's arrival with Jules' letters, gave the
greatest pleasure to all tins excellent family ; they
were never tired of questioning him about one so
dear to them ; about relations and friends that they
had little hope of ever seeing again ; about the
' Faubourg St. Germain ;' about the French Court, and
about his own adventures after he left Canada.

Archy then wished to see the servants ; he found

DE LOCHEILL AND BLANCHE.

S41

the mulatto Lisette busied in the kitchen, preparing
the dinner ; she threw her arms around his neck, as
she used to do of old, when he arrived at the manor-
house, during the college vacation, in company with
Jules, whom she had nursed ; and her voice was
broken by her sobs.

This mulatto, whom the captain had bought when
she was onlj four years old, was, in spite of her
faults, very much attached to all the family. The
master was the only one of whom she was the least
afraid ; as for the mistress, going on the principle
that she herself was of longer standing in the house,
she only obeyed her in proper time and place.
Blanche and her brother were the only ones who, by
kindness, made her do as they wished ; and although
Jules often put her out of temper, she only laughed at
his tricks, and was besides always ready to hide his
peccadilloes and to take his part when his parents
scolded him.*

Monsieur d'Haberville, quite out of patience, had
emancipated her long ago, but ** she just caved that,
for her emancipation,'' she would say, snapping her
fingers, " for she had just as much right to stay in the
house where she had been brough' up, as he or his
had." If her exasperated master put her out at the
north door, she immediately entered by the south one,
and vice versd.

This woman, whose temper was so ungovernable,
had nevertheless been as affected by her masters* mis-
fortunes, as if she had been their own daughter ; and
what was strange, all the time that she saw the captain
brooding over the gloomy thoughts which preyed on
his mind, she was tractable and obedient to all the
orders she received, doing her utmost to do the work
of two servants. When she was alone with Blanche,
she often fell on her neck sobbing, and that noble girl
had to make a truce with her own sorrows in order
to console the poor slave. To the credit of Lisette

* Lisette is taken from a mulatto-girl, whom my grandfather bought
whea she was only four years of age.

smm

242

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

be it said, that no sooner had happiness been restored
to the family, than she again became as self-willed as
before.

Locbeill on leaving the kitchen, ran to meet Jose,
who was coming out of the garden singing, loaded
with vegetables and fruits.

" !^xcuse me," said Jose to him, " if 1 give you
my left hand, I left the other on the Plains of Abra-
ham ; and I cannot say anything against the short
petticoat (saving your presence) who rid me of it ; *
he did it conscientiously, for he cut it off so neatly,
just at the wrist-joint, that he did half the work of the
surgeon who had the dressing of it. I may say with
truth, that that short petticoat and myself are about
quits ; for ducking down, I caught up my gun which
I had dropped, and ran my bayonet through his body.
After all it was for the best, for what could I do with
my right hand, now that there is no fighting ? Why,
there's no more war going on, now that the English
are the masters of the land," added Jos6, sighing.

" It seems, my dear Jose," answered Locheill,
laughing, " that you know very well how to dispense
with your right hand, so long as you have your left

one

*' it's true," said Jose, " it will do in cases of
emergency, like that of my skirmish with the little
petticoat ; but to tell you the truth, I have regretted
much being one-handed ! Both hands would not have
been too many to serve my good masters with ; the
tildes have been hard, but thank God the worst is
over."

Apd a tear shone in the eye of the faithful Jose.

liCKcheill then went to the haymakers, who were
raking up and loading the hay ; they were all old
acquaintances who greeted him wannly ; for, with
the exception of the captain, the whole family, and
Jules also before his departure for Europe, had made
it their duty to exculpate him.

*. The Canadians uf old always ualled the Highlanders " the short petli-
coats.*'

DE LOCHEILL AND BLANCHE.

948

The dinner, which was served with the greatest
plainness, was still very abundant ; thanks to the
game with which the shore and woods abounded at
that season of the year. The plate consisted of only
what was barely necessary ; with the exception of
the spoons, forks, and necessary goblets ; but one
tankard of antique form, and engraved with the
d'Haberville arms, bore witness to the former opulence
of the family. The dessert consisting entirely of the
fruit in season, was served on maple leaves, or in the
cassots and baskets which shewed the industry of
the aborigines. A small glass of black-currant liqueur
to i^arpen the appetite, spruce-beer made from the
branches of that tree, some Spanish wine which they
almost always drank diluted, were the only liquors
which the seignior d'Haberville's hospitality enabled
him to offer his guest ; but this did not prevent the
greatest cheerfulness from reigning during the meal ;
lor after their long privations and sufferings, this
family seemed to have commenced a new life. If
Monsieur d'Haberville had not feared wounding
Archy's feelings, he would not have failed to have
made some playful allusion to the champagne being
replaced by sparkling spruce-beer.

*^* Now that we are a complete family party," said
the captain, smiling at Archy, " let us talk about my
son's future prospects. As for myself, prematurely
old and worn out by the fatigues of war, I have a
good excuse for not serving the new government ;
besides at my age, I could not draw a sword against
France, the country I served for thirty years ; a hun-
dred times rather would I die !"

** And," broke in my uncle Raoul," we can all say
like Hector of Troy —

Si Pergama d«xtra

Defend! pcssent, etiam hac defensa fuissent.

*' Never mind Hector of Troy," said Monsieur
d'Haberville, who not being of so literary a turn as
his brother, did not much enjoy his quotations "never
16*

244

TUE CANADIANS OP OLD.

mind Hector of Troy, who cannot take much interest
in our family affairs, but let us talk about my son.
His state of health compels him, perhaps for some
little time, perhaps even for always, to retire from
the service ; his dearest affections are centred here
where he was born : Canada is his native land, and
he cannot have the same attachment to that of his
ancestors. Be?ide, his position is very differenl to
mine ; that which would be cowardice in me, on the
borders of the grave, is a positive duty for him, since
he is now only commencing life. He has gloriously
discharged his debt to the land of his ancestors. He
retires with honor from a service which the physicians
have pronounced incompatible with his state oi health.
Let him now consecrate his talents and his energies
to the service of his fellow Canadians. The new
governor is already well disposed towards us, he
receives favorably such of our fellow countrymen as
have business with him ; on several occasions, he has
expressed himself as sympathising in the misfortunes
of those brave officers whom he had met face to face
on the field of battle, and whom fortune and not their
own courage had betrayed (g*). At all the assemblies at
the St. Louis castle, he shows the same consideration
to Canadians as to his own countrymen, to those
among us who have lost everything, as to those more
fortunate ones who can still present themselves there
with a certain display. Under his administration,
and furnished besides with the introductions that
our friend Locheill has procured him, Jules has
every hope of holding a high position in the colony.
Let him tender his oath of allegiance to the British
crown, and my last words to him in my dying hour
shall be : * Serve your English sovereign with as
much zeal, devotion and loyalty, as I have served the
French monarch ; and receive my last blessing ' " *

Every one was struck with this sudden chimge
of feeling on the part of the head of the family ; they
had not considered that misfortune is a hard master

* These were tny grandfather's last words to his only son.

DE LOCHEILL AND BLANCHE.

245

and makes the most intractable dispositions bend
beneath his iron grasp. Captain d'Haberville though
too proud and too loyal to acknowledge openly how
badly Louis the Fifteenth had treated subjects whose
devotion had amounted even to heroism, did not the
less resent the ingratitude of the court of France.
Although wounded to this heart's core by this neglect,
he would still have been ready to shed the last drop
of his blood, for that voluptuous monarch who was
entirely given up to his mistresses' caprices ; but his
abnegation went no further than this. For himself
he would have refused any favor from the new go-
vernment, but he was too right-minded to allow over-
sensitiveness to interfere with his son's prospects.

" Now let every one give his opinion frankly " said
the Captain, smiling ; " and let the majority decide."
The ladies only answered this appeal by throwing
themselves into his arms, and weeping for joy. My
uncle Raoul seized hold of his brother's hand and
wrung it heartily, saying :

" Nestor of old could not have spoken more wisely. "
" Nor could we have been more glad," said Archy,
" if we had had the advantage of listening to that
venerable personage's words."

As the tide was high and the evening fine, Locheill
proposed to Blanche that they hould walk on the
shore indented with sandy coves, which stretches from
the manor as far as the little river of St. Jean-Port-Joli.

" I find everywhere," said Archy, when they were
walking beside the river on which glanced the rays
of the setting sun, "everywhere I find objects, and
spots which recall memories of the past ! It was here
that when a child you used to play with the shells
which I would pick up along the shore ; it was in
this cove that I gave my brother Jules his first lessons
in the art of swimming ; here are the same f?traw-
berry plants and raspberry bushes where we used to
gather the fruit which you were so fond of; it is
here that you used to sit on a rock with a book in
your hand, awaiting your brother's and my return from

240

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

shooting, in order to congratulate us on our prowess,
or laugh at us when car game-bag was empty ; there
is not a tree, nor a bush, nor a fragment of rock that is
not an old acquaintance, and which I do not revisit
with pleasure. Childhood and youth are happy
seasons ! Always enjoying the present, oblivious
of the past, careless of the future, life flows on as
calmly as the water of the little brook we are now
crossing ! L was then that Jules and I were truly
wise, for our ambitious dreams were • "nfined to
passing our days together on this domain, only occu-
pied by rural labors and amusements."

" This peaces ble and monotonous life," interrupted
Blanche, " is that to whica we are condemned by the
weakness of our sex; Gjd, in giving strength and
courage to man, appointed a nobler destiny for him.
What excitement a man must feel when he is in the
midst of a battle ! What spectacle can be more
sublime, than that of the soldier, facing death a
hundred times in the conflict, for the sake of all he
holds dearest on earth ! What intoxication the war-
rior must feel when the clarion announces victory 1 "

That noble young girl knew no other glory but that
of the soldier, her father who was nearly always
under arms, was, when with his family, constantly
relating to them his fellow-countrymen's exploits, and
Blanche who was but a child, would be in raptures at
the recital of their almost fabulous deeds of arms. "

" These, alas ! " said Archy, *' are but sad
triumphes, when we think of the disasters they are the
cause of ; of the tears shed by the widow and the
orphan, bereaved of those the dearest to them on
earth ; of their painful privations, of their often utter
destitution ! But here we are at the Port-Joli river : it
is we I named with its smiling banks, covered with
wild roses, and thickets of fir and spruce. How many
memories this charming river recalls to my mind ! I
think I can still see your excellent mother and your
good aunt seated on the grass, on a fine August evening,
whilst we, in our little green canoe, would row up the

DE LOCHEILL AND BLANCHE.

river to the little island of Babin, repeating the
iburden of your pretty song in chorus, and keeping
time with our oars,

We Vi'ill on the river row, row
We will on the island play

I think I can hear your mother's voice calling out :

are you ever going to bring Blanche back, you
" naughty boys ; it is supper time, and you know
" your father insists on punctuality at meals." And
Jules rowing hard towards her calling out : " do not
" be afraid of my father's being out of temper ; I will
" take it all on myself, and will make him laugh by
" telling him that like His Majesty Louis the
" Fourteenth, he was nearly having to wait. You
" know I am always spoiled during the holidays.'*

" Dear Jules ! " said Blanche, " and yet he was
sad enough, Archy, when you and I found him in the
thicket of firs, where he had hidden himself after his
escapade, until my father's first ebullition of wrath
should be over."

" He had only been guilty of soi le slight pecca-
dilloe," said Archy laughing.

" Let us enumerate his misdeeds " said Blanche
counting them on her fingers ; " first le had infringed
my father's orders by harnessing to the carriage a
wild three years old horse which shied and was per-
fectly unmanageable even in a sleigh ; secondly, the
said hone after a tremendous fight with the rash
driver, had taken the bit between its teeth, and as the
first fruits of its liberty, had run over the cow of our
neighbor, widow Maurice."

'^ A fortunate accident for the said widow," replied
Archy, " for in the place of the old animal she had
lost, your excellent father gave her the two *" est
heifers of his stock. I can not recall unmoved,"
coiitinued Locheill " the poor woman's vexation when
she found out that some officious passer-by had
informed your father of the accident of which his son
had been the cause. How comes it, that it is those

248

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

very people whom Jules has tormented the mo?;t, that are
the most attached to him. By what charm does he
make himself beloved by every one ! We certainly
gave the widow Maurice no peace during our holi-
days, and yet she always wept heartily when she
bade your brother farewell : "

" The reason is quite simple " said Blanche " it is
that every one knows how good-hearted he is. And
besides, Archy, you know by experience that he
always prefers teasing those that he likes best. But
let us go on with the list of his misdeeds on that un-
lucky day ; thirdly, the horrid horse plunged, and
breaking the wheel of the carriage against the fence,
threw the c river at least fifteen feet into the adjacent
meadow ; but Jules, like a cat which always falls on
its feet, was happily not the least injured by his fall.
Fourthly, the mare after having broken the carriage
into splinters against the stones in the Three Salmons
river, ended by breaking her leg on the shingles at
L'Islet.

" Yes " resumed Archy " and I remember your
eloquent pleading in favor of the criminal who, in des-
paration at having displeased so kind a father, might
perhaps be driven to extremities ! ' What, dear papa !'
you said ' should you not rather feel happy, and
thank Heaven which has watched over your son's life
when he was exposed to so much danger. What
signifies the loss of a horse, of a cow, of a carriage ?
you ought to shudder when you think that the bleed-
ing corpse of your only son might have been brought
home !'

" ' Come and let us have done with it,' said Mon-
sieur d'Haberville, " and go and find your rascal of a
brother, for of course you and Archy know where he
has hidden himself after his deeds of valor !"

" I think I still see " continued Archy, " Jules'
serio-comic look of contrition, when he knew the
storm had passed ; 'what ! father,' he ended by saying
after having submitted to a pretty severe scolding,
* would you have preferred that like another Hippolytus,

DE LOCHEILL AND BLANCHE.

249

I had been dragged by the horse fed by your hand, lo^
become your son's murderer ! and that the dripping
thorns should have been tufted with my bloody locks.!
' Come, let us go to supper ' said the captain ' since
there is a protecting Deity who watches over mad-
caps like you.' "

* That is what I call speaking to the point, ' Jules
replied.

* Did you ever see such a fellow !' your father ended
by saying laughingly.

" 1 could never understand " added Archy " why
your father who is generally so implacable, always
pardoned Jules so easily without appearing even to
remember his offences .!>"

"My father" said Blanche " knows that his son
adores him, that he always acts on the impulse of the
moment, without reflecting on the consequences of
his thoughtlessness, and that he would support the
severest privations himself to spare him the slightest
grief. He knows that during a severe sickness, caused
by the dangerous wounds he received at Manongahela,
his son, nearly mad v/ith grief, made us all fear for
his reason, as you know : if I may make use of such
an expression, Jules cannot seriously displease his
father."

" Now " replied Archy " that we have recalled so
many agreeable recollections, let us seat ourselves on
this bank where we have so often rested formerly,,
and let us speak of gravQr matters. I have made up
my mind to settle in Canada ; I have recently sold an
inheritance bequeathed to me by one of my cousins.
Although my fortune would be but moderate in Eu-
rope, it would be considerr' le when invested here in
this colony, where I have p ssed my happiest days,
and where I hope to live and die near my friends..
What do you say about it, Blanche ^

" Nothing in the world would give me so much
pleasure. Oh ! how happy Jules will be, for he loves
you so ! How happy we shall all be !

" Yes, very happy, without doubt ; but Blanche, my

•260

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

happiness cannot be perfect unless you deign lo
complete it by accepting my hand. I have "

The noble girl bounded as if a viper had stung her;
and pale with anger, and with trembling lip, ex-
claimed:

" You are insulting me, captain Archibald Came-
ron of Locheill ! You do not consider how humiliating
and painful your offer is ! How can you make such a
proposal to me now when the incendiary torch, which
you and yours have sent through my unhappy country,
is hardly extinguished ! When the smoke is still rising
from our ruined dwellings, do you offer me the hand
of one of the incendiaries ? ft would be too bitter an
irony to light the hymeneal torch at the smoking ashes
of my unfortunate country ! It would be said, captain
Locheill, that now that you are rich, you have bought
the poor Canadian girl's hand with your gold ; and
a d'Haberville could never submit to such a humilia-
tion ! Oh ! Archy ! Archv ! I should never have ex-
pected this from you, the friend of my childhood ! you
surely cannot have considered the offer you were about
to make me !''

And Blanche, overpowered with emotion, sat down
sobbing.*

The noble Canadian girl had never appeared so
beautiful in Archy's eyes, as at the moment when,
with proud contempt, she rejected the alliance of one
of her unhappy country's conquerors.

" Be calm Blanche, " replied Locheill, " I admire
your patriotism and I appreciate your highminded
delicacy, though you are not just towards me, yotir
childhood's friend. Surely you cannot think that a
Cameron of Locheill would insult any noble young
lady whatever, and still less the sister of Jules d'Ha-
berville, and the daughter of his benefactor. You
know, Blanche, that I never act without reflexion;
you used all formerly to call me the grave philosopher
and consider that I had sound judgment. It is per-

* A. fact. A Canadian young lady, whose name I will not mention,
under similar circumstances refused the hand of a rich Scotch officer in
Xihineral Wolfe's army.

DE LOUHEH.L ANI) BLANCHE.

161

haps only natural for a d'Haborville indignantly to
reject an Anglo-Saxon's hand, so soon after the con-
quest ; but, lilanche, you know lliat I have long loved
you, in spite of my silence you cannot have been
ignorant of it, the |)oor and proscribed young man would
have been wanting in honor, had he declared his love
for the daughter of his rich bonnfaclor.

" And because I am now rich" continued Locheill,
" and because the fortune of war made us the victors
in the terrible struggle that we had with your country-
men ; and because fate made me an involuntary
instrument in the work of destruction, am I to crush
back into my heart for ever one of the noblest feelings
of our nature, and acknowledge myself vanquished
witiiout making an effort to obtain her whom I have
loved with so much constancy ? Oh ! no Blanche you
cannot think so ; you spoke unreflectingly ; say that
you already regret the unkind words that escaped
you, and which you surely could not have meant for
your old friend. Speak, Blanche, and say that you
do not mean them, that you are not regardless of feel-
ings of which you must have long been aware."

" I will be frank with you Archy, " replied
Blanche " as candid as a young country girl who has
studied neither her .sentiments nor her answer in books,
as a rustic who knows nothing of the manners of
a society which she has long ceased to frequent, and
whicli might impose a conventional reserve on her ;
and I will open my whole heart to you ; Locheill, you
had everything which might have captivated a young
girl of fifteen ; illustrious birth, intellect, beauty,
athletic strength, a generous and high minded dispo-
sition : what more was wanting to fascinate a romantic
and susceptible young girl ! Therefore, Archy, if
the poor and proscribed young man had asked my
hand of my parents, and if they had promised it you,
I should have been proud and happy to have obeyed
them ; but, captain Archibald Cameron of Locheill,
there is now a gulf between us, which I can never
pass. "

909

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

wKr

And the noble young lady's voice was again
jlrownod by sobs.

•' But I bog of you, my brother Arcliy," she conti-
nued taking his hand, "not to let this alter your inten-
tion of settling in Canada. Buy a projiurty near this
seigniory, so that we may see each other often, very
often. And if, in the ordinary course of nature (for
you are eight years older than me) I have the misfor-
tune of losing you, rest assured, dear Archy, that your
sister Blanche will water your tomb with tears as
abundant and as bitter, as she could have shed had
she been your wife. "

And affectionately taking his hand in hers she
added :

" It is late Avchy, let lis return home.

" You will not surely be so cruel to me, to yourself,"
replied Archy, " as to persist in your refusal ; yes,
towards yourself, Blanche ; for the love of a heart such
as yours, does not become extinct like a common
love ; it survives the lapse of time, and the vicissitudes
of life. On his return from Europe, Jules shall plead
my cause, and his sister cannot refuse him the first
favor which he asks for their mutual friend. Ah ! say
that I can, that I may bo allowed to hope ! "

" Never," said Bh; lehe, " never my dear Archy.
The woman, as well us the men of my family have
never failed in what duty required of them ; they have
never shrunk from any sacrifice, however painful Jt
might be. Two of my <unts who were then quite
young, said to my father one day.* 'As it is, d'Haber-
ville, your fortune is barely sufficient to keep up the
rank '■nd dignity of our house : our marriage portion,'
they added smiling, 'would make a considerable
breach in it ; to-morrow we shall enter the convent
where everything is prepared for us.' The prayers,
threats, and frighful anger of my father, could not
alter their determination : they entered the convent
where they have edified every one by their constant
practice of those virtues that befit that holy state.

■* A fact that occurred in the author's family.

UE LOCIIEILL AND BLANCllK.

263

" As for mc, Arcliy, I luivo to fulfil very (liHerent
duties, duties whicli are very congenial to ine ; tliey
consist in rendering my dear parents' lives comfortable,
so as if possible to make them forget their misfortunes,
and in watching over their declining years with
tender affection, so that their last sigh may be
breathed in my arms. After receiving their aying
blessing, I will incessantly pray that God may grant
them that repose, which he refused them in this world
of sorrow. My brother Jules will marry, and I will
watch over his children with the tenderest care, and
share his good and evil fortune like an affectionate
sister."

Locheill and his friend silently took the path that
led homewards ; the rays of the setting sun which
were mirrored in the calm waters, and the silvery
sands on the shore, lent a fresh charm to the c!iarming
landscape, but they had suddenly become indifferent
to the beauties of nature.

The next day, a favorable wind sprang up towards
evening ; the vessel which had conveyed Locheill,
immediately weighed anchor, and Monsr. d'Haberville
entrusted Jose with takmg his young friend to
Quebec.

On the way the conversation did not flag between
the two travellers ; the subject was inexhaustible.
About five o'clock in the morning, having come to the
Beaumont hills, Lochiell said to Jose :

" I am as sleepy as a dormouse ; we sat up late
last night, and I was so feverish that I passed the rest
of the night without sleeping ; do be so kind as to sing
me something to keep me awake."

He well knew how hoarse and out of tune his
companion's voice was, and this gave him great con-
fidence in the anti-soporific effects of his singing.

" It is not for me to refuse you," said Jos§, who like
nearly every one who sings out of tune, prided him-
self on being a good singer, " it is not for me to
refuse you ; and besides, you run some risk of break-
ing your head against the stones which, since la Cor-

mmmmmmmmmBmmmmmimmm

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

riveau passed over them, have hardly ever been able
to keep in their places ; but, I do not quite know
where to begin. Would you like a song on the taking
of Bergen- op-Zoom ^ *

" Let us have Bergen-op-Zoom," said Archy,
"though the English were pretty badly treated there."

" Ah well ! " said Jos6, " any way it was just a
little retaliation on the enemy, who pitched into us
pretty well in '59."

And he struck up the following song :

Here's to the man who took Bergen-of-Zoom (bis)
He's a regular mill to grind out a Te Deum. (bis)
I can tell you indeed, he's a wonderful man
And dispatches his sieges as fast as he can.

" But that is quite charming in its simplicity, "
cxclamtd Locheill.

" Is it not so, captain," said Jose quite proud of
his success.

" Oh ! yes, my good Jose, but do please go on, I am
longing to hear the end of it ; you surely will not
leave off in the middle just as you are getting on so
well."

" As you wish, captain," said Jos6, raising his
hand to his cap, which he took half off.

Like Alexander he is quite small (bis)
But his intelligence beats all, (bis)
And like him he's very valiant
And like Ccesar very prudent.

" ' But his intelligence beats all,' " repeated Archy,
" is a most happily turned phrase ! where did you
get that song ?"

" A grenadier who had been at Bergen-op-Zoom
used to sing it to my defunct father. He said that
there was pretty hot work there, never fear, and he
bore the marks of it ; he had only one eye remaining,
and from his forehead to his jaw all the leather had
been carried away ; but as all this damage was on

* Bergen-op-Zoom, the maiden, taken Sept. 16th 1747, by Count de
Jjowendhali, who was commanding the French army.

DE LOCHEILL AND BLANCHE.

20»

his left side, lie could still take aim well enough on
his right side. But only let him alone he'd do ; that
fellow was no fool, and I feel quite easy in my mind
about him. Now let us go on to the third verse, whicJi
is the last.

He curry-combed the English there, (bis^
' * Though to shew fight they thought they'J dare : (bis)

But they soon found they'd soldiers met
When bUL'h a dressing they did get.

" Upon my word that's delicious !" exclaimed
Locheill, " those English wlio 'thought they'd dare to
shew fight !' those soldiers who gave them a 'dressing' !
altogether charming in its simplicity ! Yes " he con-
tinued, " these quiet and peaceable English who
take it into their heads to shew fight, and get such a
good dressing ; now I had thought that the English
were always (luarrelsome and wicked ! But it is
charming ! perfectly charming !

" Well ! but you see captain " said Jose " it is
the song that says all that ; for my own part, I have
always found the English pretty boorish and crabbed ;
and besides not always easy to give a dressing to,
like our horse Lubin who is sometimes full of whims
and out of temper, when Ik^ is curried too hard ; for
instance there's the first battle on the plains of
Abraham."

" Was it the English wlio used the curry-comb
there ?" said Archy.

Jose by way of answer only pointed to the stump of
his arrr, .;round which he had wound the thong of
his whip, for want of something better.

The two travellers continued their way for some
time in silence ; but Jose, perceiving that his companion
was nearly overpowered by sleep, called oat to him :

" Come, come, captain ! you arc tailing asleep,
take care, or, you must excuse me, but you will
break your neck : I think you must want another
song to keep you awakfc. Would you like me to
sing you Biron's lament .^" *

^ An old Canadian seignior who was very touchy a>x>ut the Kings of
Fnac9, used to blame my fother when I was a child, for allowing me to
sing Kton's complaint.

ism

'266

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

" What Biron is that ?" said LocheilJ.

" Ah ! well ! my uncle Raoul, who is a very
learned man, says that he was a prince, a great
warrior, the relation and friend of the defunct king
Henry the Fourth, to whom he had rendered great
services ; which however did not prevent his having
him put to death as if he had been less than nothing.
And when I pitied his fate, he and Monsieur d'Haber-
viile told me that he had been a traitor to his king,
and never to sing the lament in their presence. It
seemed strange to me, but I have obeyed them."

" I have never heard of this lament, and as I am
not quite so sensitive as your masters with regard to
the kings of France, be so kind as to sing it to me."

Jose then entoned the following lament, in a voice
like thunder :

Thus spake unto the king, one of his men-at-arms,
His name it was LaFin, the captain of the guards :
" Sire, of young de Biron, I beg you to beware.
For to plot treason 'gainst you, he, alas ! doth dare."

No sooner had he spoken, than Biron entered there.
Bowing low unto him, with courtesy so fair ;
And saying " may it please you. Sire, with me at dice to play
For a tliousand Spanish doubloons, that I have won to-day 1"

" If you have tiiem there, Biron, go straight unto the Queen,

Go straight unto the Queen, that she with you may play,

For your worldly goods from you, I fear, ere long will pass away."

He had thrown but only twice, when the Provost enter'd in
Bowing low unto him, with courtesy so fair.
And saying ; " Will it please you Prince, with me to come away
For this evening at the Bastille, you will have to stay."

*' If my sword were at my side, or my bayonet to my haad>

If I had but nvy sabre, or my gilded dagger fair

There's not a Provost in the land, who me to arrest wotild dare."

He had been there a month, e'en six weeks had passed away,
And not a single knight or dame, a visit did him pay.
There only came three justices, pretending to know naught
They said to him " nay noble Prince, by whom were you here

brought !"

« I was brought here by those who had full power to treat me >o :
It was the King and Queen themselves whom I have served ao Ivagj
And they give me as my recompence a traitorous death to die.

DE LOCHEILL AND BLANCHE.

267

" Does not the King recall the wars, we fought in fair Savoy,
When I myself received a wound from a bail that came whizzing by
Yet he gives me for a recompense, a traitor'a death to die-

Oh ! let the King remember well, though I am doom'd to die.
That yet another will be left of the Biron lineage high ;
A brother do I leave behind, the next in age to me,
Who'll have me in his memory, when he the King shall see.

For once Loeheill was completely aroused ; Jose's
stentorian voice would have aroused the Sleeping
Beani' of the Wood, who for a century was plunged
in a profound slumber : which by-the-by was a pretty
good nap, even for a princess who might be supposed
to have carte-blanche in indulging her fancies.

" But, Sir," said Jose, " perhaps yon, who are
nearly as learned as the chevalier d'Haberville, can
tell me something about this wicked king who caused
this Biron to b*^ put to death, though he had rendered
him so many important services."

" My dear Jose, kings never forget a personal
affront ; and like many other people never forget
others' misdeeds, even after they have been expiated,
but have very short memories lor the services that
have been rendered them."

" Well, that seems funny, for I thought God had not
refused them anything : a short memory, that is very
funny ! "

Archy repli( ' smiling at his companion's siiupli-
city.

'*The king Henry the Fourth had nevertheless a very
good memory, although it played him false on that
particular oecasion ; he was an excellent prince who
loved his subjects as his c»v.ti children ; and who did
everything in his power io make them happy ; it is
not surprising therefore, mat h's memory should still
be so dear to every good Frenc jmun, even after the
lapse of a hundred and fifty year-" '*'

" Well," sail Jose, " ihai is not surprising, if
subjects havf better memories than princes ! still it
was cruel oi him to hang poor monsieur Biron ! "'

" The nobility in France were not hung," said
17

368

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

Archy, " that was one of their great privileges ; their
heads were cut off. "

" That was a privilege worth having, for though,
perhaps, it was more painful, it was more glorious
to die by the sabre than by the hahcr."

" To return to Henry the Fourth," said Archy, "we
must not condemn him loo severely ; he lived in difficult
limes, during a period of civil war ; Biron, his rela-
tion, formerly his friend, had betrayed him, and
doubly deserved death."

" Poor monsieur Biron," said Jose, " how well he
speaks in his lament."

" It is not always those who speak the best, who are
the oftenest in the right," said Archy, " nothing is
more like an honest man, than an eloquent knave. "

" What you are saying is very true, Mr. Archy ;
we have a })Oor thief in our part of Ihe country,and as
he has nothing lo say for himself, every one tears him
to piecf's, wliilst his brother, who is a hundred times
whorsc Ihan him, manages, by means of his smooth
tongue, to pass for a saint. In the meantime, here is
the city of Quebec, but with no more white flag waving
over it, than my hand har*," added Jose, ' sighing.*

And to compose his countenance, he felt in all his
pockets for hx-s pipe, murmuring the usual burthen of
his song :

" Our good folks will come back."

Jose stayed two days im Quebec, and returned
loaded with all the pre i*ents that Locheill thought he
would be most pleased with. He would have liked to
Jaave sent some handsome presents to the d'Haberville
family, and under other circumstances he would not
have failed to have done so, but lie feared to wound their
fceiings. He therefore only said to Jose, when bid-
diag him farewell :

" I have left my prayer-l>ook at the manor-house ;
beg of Miss Blanche to keep it till my return : the
name of the Prayer book was a ••' Pensez-y-bien."

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259

CHAPTER XVII.

-:*©^>-

THE HOME CIRCLE.

Many sad events had happened since the day when
Jules' relations and friends, seated around Captain
d'Haberville's hospitable board, had bade him fare-
well before his departure for France. Time had
done its usual work of destruction on the old men ;
the enemy had carried fire and sword into the
dwellings of the peaceable habitants of the colony ;
famine had claimed many victims ; the soil had been
drenched with the best blood of its gallant defenders ;
and the waves had swallowed up a great many of
those officers of noble extraction, that had been spared
by the chances of war. All the elements of destruc-
tion were drunk with the blood of the best families in
New France. The prospects for the future were
sombre enough, particularly for those gentlemen who
had been already ruined by the enemy's depradations ;
for those who, in laying down the sword, their only
resource, and their only means of support for their
families, knew they would be exposed to the greatest
privations ; for those who, looking into the future,
saw their impoverished descendants, vegetating on
the very ground which had been rendered illustrious
by their noble ancestors.

The city of Quebec, which, firmly seated on its rock,
had formerly seemed to brave the thunders of artillery,
and the assault of the most valiant cohorts, — the proud
city of Quebec, still covered with rubbish, was hardly
rising from its ruins. The British flag waved
triumphantly over the lofty citadel ; and tiie Canadian,
17*

260

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

who, from habit, raised his eyes to the summit,
thinking still to see there the fleur-de-lys flag of old
France, soon cast them down again sadly, saying to
himself with a heavy heart : " Still we shall see the
old folks back again." *

For some years, there had things come to pass, which
must have rent the heart of the natives of that fair
land, which had formerly been called New France.

We hope, that after so many disasters, the reader
will be pleased to meet his old acquaintances again,
at a little party given by Mons. d'Haberville to
celebrate his son's arrival. Even " the good gentle-
man," although nearly a hundred years old, had
responded to the appeal. Captain Des Ecors, the
companion-in-arms of Mons. d'HiLcrville, a brave
officer, who had been ruined by the conquest, his
family and a few other friends were also present at
the little gathering, A small inheritance, which had
come to Jules whilst he was in France from one of
his relations who had perished in the " Auguste," by
making the family easier in their circumstances,
allowed of their again exercising that hospitality
which they had so long been unable to do.

All the guests had taken their places at table, after
having in vain waited for Archibald Locheill whose
absence no one could account for, as he was generally
so punctual on every occasion.

" Well, my dear friends," said Mons. d'Haberville
at dessert, " what is your opinion of the omens which
troubled my mind so much ten years ago ? First
give us your opinion, cure, of the mysterious warn-
ings, which seemed as if sent me by Heaven itself ?'*

" I think," replied the cure, "that all nations have
had, or have thought they had had their warnings,
even in the most remote ages. But without seeking
very far ; in times comparatively modern, Roman
history abounds with prodigies and omens. The

* The nuthor, during his youth, fifty years even after the conquest^
often beard the old people, and particularly the old women, making use of
these touching words.

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261

most insignificant occurrences were looked on as
good or bad omens : the augurs consulted the flight
of birds, the entrails of the victims offered for sacri-
fice ; I cannot tell whether it is true, but they say
that two of these veracious and holy persons could
not look at one another without laughing."

" And what conclusion do you draw from that,"
said Mons. d'Haberville ?

" That we should not attach too much importance
to such things," replied the cur6 ; " that even sup-
posing it pleased Heaven, under certain ex«^eptionaI
'Circumstances, to give some visible signs of what
was going to happen, it would be only one more
misery to add to the already innumerable ones to
which poor humanity is exposed. A man who was
naturally superstitious would be in a constant state
of feverish excitement, which would be a hundred
times more unbearable than the misfortune he would
be incessantly dreading."

" Well," said Monsieur d'Haberville, who, like
many other people, only asked others their opinion
for form's sake, " I myself think, judging by my own
•experience, that generally we ought to attach credit
to them. All I can say is, that omens have never
misled me. Besides those of which you yourself
have been an eye-witness, I could mention a great
number of others.

" About fifteen years ago, I was commanding an
.expedition against the Iroquois, consisting of Cana-
dians and Huron Indians. We were on our march,
when all at once -I felt a pain in my thigh, as if some
hard body had struck it ; the pain was sufficiently
sharp to stop me for a moment. I mentioned it to
my Indian warriors ; they looked at one another
uneasily, anxiously searched the horizon, drew a
deep breath, turning in every direction, like dogs
in search of game. And satisfied that there were no
enemies near us, they resumfed their march. I asked
Little Stephen, the Huron chief, who was looking
uneasy, whether he feared some surprise."

262

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

" Not that I know of," said he, " but the first time
we meet the enemy, you will be wounded just in the

place where you have just felt the pain."

** I only laughed at the idea, bu: that made no-
difference, for two hours afterwards an Iroquois ball
went through my thigh at that very place, though
fortunately without fractur'-'j^ the bone (a). No,
gentlemen, warnings have never deceived me.

" And what do you thing about tiie matter,
chevalier .-* said the cure.

" My opinion is," said my uncle Raoul, " that the
wine has been placed on the table, and we ought to
attack it at once." *

" An excellent decision," echoed from all parts of
the table.

" Wine is the most infallible of omens," said Jules,
" for it announces joy, open-hearted gaiety, and
happiness ; and as a proof of its infallibility, here is
our friend Locheill coming up the avenue ; I will go
and meet him."

" You see, my dear Archy," said the captain wel-
coming him, " that we have treated you uncere-
moniously, as if you were one ol ourselves, by sitting
dow^n to table, after waiting for you only half an hour.
Knowingyourmilitary punctuality, we feared that some
important biisiness had prevented you from coming."

" I should have been very sorry had yon treated
me otherwise than as one of yourselves," replied
Archy. " I had made all my arrangements so as to
arrive here early this morning ; but I had not allowed
forthat delightful swampof Cap St. Ignace. (6) First,
my horse fell into a morass, and in getting him out,
I broke the harness which I had to patch up as I best
could. Then, I broke one of my wheels in a bog,
and had to seek assistance at the nearest dwelling,
at half a league's distance ; and I arrived there half
dead with fatigue, having several times sunk up to
my knees in the marsh.'.'

* Formerly wine was not placed on the table till the dessert, when the
seivants, who had been busy during the first course, performed the office of
cup-bearers.

THE HOME CIRCLE.

263

*• Ah ! my dear Archy," said Jules, who, as usual,
turned everything into a joke : *^^ quantum mutatus
ab illo ! as dear uncle Raoul would have said, if he
had spoken first, or as you yourself would say. What
have you done with those long legs of your's, which
you used to be so proud of when we had to cross that
same swamp ! Have they lost their strength and
agility since the twenty-eighth of April, 1760 ? You
made precious good use of them then at the retreat,
as I had foretold."

" That's true," said Archy, laughing heartily " they
certainly did not fail me, in the retreat of 1760, as
you call it out of regard for my modesty ; but, my
dear Jules, you should also sing the praises of your
own legs though they are short, for you made good
use of them in the retreat of 1759 ; one good turn
deserves another, you know ; with due respect to
your soldierly modesty."

** My dear fellow, you have not hit it yet, you are a
little out in your reckoning ! a scratch that I had got
from an English ball, which just grazed my ribs, was
considerably slackening my pace in retreating, when
a grenadier who had taken a strange liking to me,
(I am sure I can not tell why) threw me over his
shoulder, treating his superior officer with no more
respect than if he were a knapsack, and never stopped
running till he had deposited me within the very
walls of Quebec. It was about time ; ior in his haste,
the stupid animal had carried me with my head
hanging down his back, like a calf that is being
carried to the butcher's, so that I was nearly suffocated
when he put me down. Only think of the rascal
having the impudence, some time afterwards, to ask
me for some thing to drink for himself and his friends,
who were glad to t^ee tlielr little grenadier on his legs
once more, and I \v.\? fool enough lo stand treat for
him and his companions ! f never could owe any one a
grudge in my life," said Jnlos quite seriously. " But
see, here is your dinner smoking hot, for your friend
Lisette had kept it warm on her stove ; you deserve to

26-1

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

have your li'iuer given you on the block to punish
you for the anxiety you caused us (as the party would
not have been complete without you) but for the pre-
sent I will grant you an amnesty, ho sit down to table
(c). Here is Jose bringing you the " coup d'appetit "
which is taken by all civilized nations ; the \yoot old
fellow is 80 pleased to see you that he is grinning
from ear to ear. I assure you is not backward when
he has to oft'er a glass to his friends ; nor when,
like his defunct father, he has to take one himself."
" The young master," said Jose putting the empty
plate under his arm, so as to take the hand that
Archy held out to him, " has always something funny
to say ; but Mons. Locli ill knows well that if I had
but one glass of brandy left, 1 would offer it to him
with my whole heart, rather than drink it myself.
As for my defunct f;ii' r, he was a steady-going
man ; he took so many ^ isses a day and no more. I
do not mean when tin* re were weddings and merry-
makings, for he could do as others did, and made
little slips from time, to time, the worthy man ! but
all 1 can say is that when he. saw his friends, he did
not keep the bottle under the table."

In that master-piece of Goldsmith's, the Vicar of
Wakefield, he makes the vicar say " I cannot say
whether we had more wit amongst us than usual ;
but I am certain we had more laughing, which an-
swered the end as well." We may say the same of
the guests at this gathering, where there reigned
triumphantly that delightful French light-heartodness
which now, alas ! is gradually disappearing in " these
degenerate days," as Homer would have said.

" My dear neighbor " said Monsieur d'Haberville
to captain Des Ecors, " if your little affair with general
Murray has not silenced you for ever, do pray set us
a good example by singing us something."

*' I heard, " said Archy, '* that you had had some
difficulty in extricating yourself from the clutches of
our crabbed general, but I do not know the details of
the afffiir."

THE HOME CIRCLE.

265

" Wlien I think of it, my friond, " said Monsieur
Des Ecors, *' I {vrA a sort of strangling sensation in tho
bronchial regions ; but still I cannot complain too
much, for ; i(> general acted conscie-ntiously towards
me ; instead of bunging me at once, he came to the
sage conclusion that the more legular course was to
bring the prisoner to trial first, and not to put him to
death till after conviction. Tiie fate of the unhappy
Nadeau the Miller, whose prison I shared, and who
was accused of tho same crime as myself, that of
having furnished the French army with provisions,
and whose trial only took plact- after he was executed ;
the sad fate of that worthy man, of whose innocence
he was convinced when too late, made him consider,
I believe, that it would be better to begin by putting
me on my trial, than to hang me first of all ; a deter-
mination I decidedly approved, and which I advise
all governors present and future to adoj)t as their rule
of conduct under similar circumstances. During my
captivity I passed many sad moments, for I was for-
bidden all external communication, and had no means
of learning what fate was reserved for me. Every
day, I asked tiie sentinel who was on guard just under
my window, if there were any news ; and my only
answer was generally just a downright G....m.
At last, a less unapproachable and more good natured
sold' r, who could jabber a little French, answered
IT le evening ' Vous pendar sept heures matingue.'
1 rh ak that this good fellow must have taught tliis
gibberish to all the guard, for afterwards I always
received the same decisive answer to all the questions
I put : ' Vous pendar sept heures matingue ' (you
will be hung at 7 o'clock in the morning). Faulty,
as the language was, it was nevertheless easy for me
to understand, that I was to be hung at seven o'clock
in the morning, without finding out, however, which
day was fixed on for my execution. My prospects
were sad enough ; for three mortal days, had I seen
the body of the unfortunate Nadeau, hanging on the
yards of his own windmill, the plaything of wind and

260

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

weather ; every inorninf^ I expected to take his place
on that newly invented gibbet."

** But that was infamous," said Arehy, " and the
man was innocent !"

" So it was shewn l)y the evidence," replied Mons.
Des Ecors, "on the enquiry that took place after the
execution. I ought to add that General Murray
seemed to repent bitterly of the murder he had com-
mitted at an angry moment. He loaded the family of
Nadeau with benefits and adopted the two young
orphan girls, whose father he had killed, taking them
with him to England. Poor Nadeau ! " (rf)

And every one sighing repeated after him:

" Poor Nadeau !"

" Alas !" said captain Des Ecor.s philosophically,
'* if we are lo pity the; fate of all who lost their life
by. . .But let us quit this distressing subject."

And he sang the following song :

A new Narcissus do I pine^
Every one admires me ;
'Tis not ia water but in wine
That 1 my image see ;
And when I view the color bright
That mantles in my cheek,
With love transfixed at the !>ight>
To drink it down I seek.

All that's in this world below
To thee, doth homage pay I
Even the winter's frost and snow
Is forc'd to own thy sway !
The earth herself to nourish thee
Lavishes her wealth !
The sun but shines to ripen thee I
I but live to drink they health !

Songs, accompanied by choruses, succeeded
other rapidly : Mme Vincelot's heightened still
the gaiety which was already noisy enough :

each
more

MME. VINCELOT S 80N0.

At this joyous fete

Every one can see (Aj*.)
That the hospitable host

Welcomes us with glee, (iw.)

THE IIOMK CIRCLE.

•67

Bidding IIS aloud innkc merry
Charivuri ! charivari ! charivari !

I'uur me out a brimming ginsti {f,is.)

Ul' thi.H sparkling wine,
I'll drink it to theliostesi fair

Of thiit tele <livine, {bii.)
For she bids us all make merry

Charivari ! chnrivari ! charivari !

MME. d'hABERVILLE's VERSE.

If this litilu joyous fete

Really pleases you (A/j.)
Welcome will you be, my friends,

Its pleasure!} to renew. (Ai*.)
And I bid you now make merry,

Charivari ! charivari ! charivari !

JULES' VERSE.

Without a little jealousy
Love soon dies away ; {bis.)

But a little of this folly
Strengthens much his sway; (<«'■».)

Love and Bacchus here make merry
Charivari ! charivari ! charivari !

At the end of each verse, every one rapped the
table or the plates, with their hands, knives, or forks,
so as to make tlie greatest uproar possible.

Blanche being requested to sing " Blaise and Ba-
bet," her favorite song, tried to excuse herself by
proposing to sing another, but tlie young ladies in-
sisted exclaiming : " Blaise and Babet !" the minor
part is so beautiful !

" I must say," said Jules, *' that that minor, with
its " I shall love eternally," must touch a very sensi-
tive chord in the feminine heart, wliich is so noted
for its constancy ! Do, give us that beautiful minor
part, and rejoice the heart of these charming young
ladies."

" We will pay you off at blind-man's-buff," said
one, " or at forfeits," said another.

" Look out for yourself ! old fellow," added Jules,
" for you have no more chance against these good
ladies than a cat without claws would have in the lower

wmi

^68

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

regions

But no matter, please sing my dear sister ;
periiaps your voice, like that of Orpheus, may calm my
enemy's wrath ; according to all accounts, that
virtuoso's voice must have been of wonderful power,
when he visited the infernal regions."

" What a shame," exclaimed the young ladies,"

" to compare us to No matter ; we will pay

you off for everything together ; but in the meantime,
Blanche, do please sing."

She still hesitated ; but fearing to draw every one's
attention on herself by a refusal, she sang the follow-
ing verses in a tearful voice : it was the despairing
cry of the purest love which seemed to burst from her
in spite of her efforts to crush it back into her heart :

From out tlie blossoms in my bower,
I've culled dear Blaise, this bouquet rare,
Of blushing: rose, of orang^e flower.
Of jessamine wlii'e and lily fair ;
Let not the rose thy emblem be,
Her beauty blooms but for a day ;
But I will love eternally.
Till life Itself shall pass away

Nor like the fickle butterfly

That roams about from flower to flower ;

Do thou for ev'ry maiden sigh

That dwells in humble village bow'r ;

Let not the rose thy emblem be,

Her beauty blooms but ior a day ;

Whilst 1 shall love eternally,

Till life itself shall pass away.

And when my beauty and my youth
Beneath the hand of time depart,
Think on my past uncliangiiig truth,
Think on my constant loving heart ;
Nor let the rose thy emblem be,
Her beauly blooms but for a day ;
■".rhilst I ihall love eternally,
Tiil life itself shall pass away.

Every one was struck by Blanche's plaintive
accents of the real cause of which they were in igno-
:<ince, attributing thsm to the emotion she felt at
seeing her dearly-loved brother, who, having escpped
death at so many battles, had now returned to -hose

THE HOME CIRCLE.

2»

whom he held dearest on eartli. To make a diver-
sion in his sister's favor, he exclaimed :

" I have bronght a very pretty song from France. '*^

" Let US hear your pretty song," was heard froin
every one.

" Ah ! no," said Jules, " I keep it for my fair
friend, Mademoiselle Vincelot, to whom I am going
to teach it."

Now the said young lady, who was already a
little elderly, had for some years expressed herself as
being opposed to*marrying, and having a very decided
taste for celibacy ; but every one knew that a certain
widower, who was only waiting for a decent time to
elapse before marrying again, had overcome the
repugnance of this tigress, and that the wedding-day
was already fixed. This declared enemy of marriage
was in no hurry to thank Jules, whose love of tricks
she well knew, and she was therefore silent ; but
every one called out :

" The song ! the song ! you can afterwards give it
to Eliza."

" As you like," said Jules ; " it is short, but not
wanting in wit."

Maidens are very like young birds,
Who dearly love the shelt'ring cage,
They'v » liv'd in from their earliest age^
At least, if yon lielieve their words ;
But open wide that cage so dear,
And very soon they'll disappear.
Nor evermore return again,
Nor evermore return again.

They all laughed heartily at Eliza's expense, and
she, like all prudes, did not know how to take a
joke in good part. Madame d'liaberville per-
ceiving this, gave the accustomed signal, and rising
from table, they adjourned to the drawing-room.
Eliza, as she passed Jules, pinched him so hard, that
she drew blood.

" Now then, fair one with the cat-like claws," said
the latter, " is that one of the caresses you destine
for your future husband, an instalment of which you

•270

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

distribule amons^ your best friends ? O happy hus-
band ! may heaven long spare him to enjoy his good
fortune !"

After the eotl'ee, followed by the customary glass
of liqueur, every one went out on the lawn to dance
country dances, and play at hunting the hare and " my
lady's toilet." There can be nothing gayer or more
picturesque than this last game, when played in the
open air on a lawn planted with trees. Each of
those who are playing, both ladies and gentlemen,
takes his post by a tree, only one r&maining in the
centre. Every one furnishes his contingent to my
lady's toilet ; one a gown, another a necklace, another
a ring, &c. As soon as the one who directs the
game, calls for an article, the person who has chosen
this article is obliged to leave his post, which another
one immediately takes possession of ; thus, as each
article of my lady's toilet is called out, there com-
mences an animated race from tree to tree, which
lasts as long as the person who directs the game,
may choose. \t last, when " all my lady's toilet "
is called out, every one tries lo get a tree, for whoever
fails in so doing, has to pay a forfeit. All this went on
amidst the screams and joyous laughter of all present,
particularly when any one lost their equilibrium and
saluted the ground instead of reaching the desired
post.

When the ladies were tired, every one re-entered
the house to play at less fatiguing games, such as
* How do you like your companion' — ' Hide and
seek,' &c. They wound up with a game, which
generally caused great amusement.

The Canadians of old, though terrible on the field of
battle, amus(;d themselves with very childish games
when they inet together. Nearly every one being
relations, connexions, or friends from infancy, miany
of those games, which now-a-d;iys would be objected
to as not compatible with the rei?ned manners of the
ladies in the higher circles, were then looked on as
appropriate. Every thing was so well conducted

TUE HOME CIRCLE.

271

ihat it was like a family party of brothers and sisters
amusing themselves in the wildest manner.*

Jules, who had taken Eliza's pincli very much to
heart, purposely proposed a game at which he hoped
to repay her. The game consisted of this : a lady,
seated in an arm-chair, began by selecting some one for
her daughter ; she was then blindfolded, and had to
guess which was the one she had chosen, by feeling
only the face and head of those who knelt down
before her with their heads covered over with a shawl
or table-cover ; every time that she guessed wrong,
she had to pay a forfeit. It was often a young man,
or an elderly lady or gentleman who knelt down and
covered their heads, and hence arose many amusing
mistakes.

When it came to Eliza's turn, .she of course chose
Jules for her daughter, or ratlier son, if the reader
prefers it, so that she might torment him whilst in-
specting him. The game began ; as each person in
turn knelt before the lady who was blindfolded, they
all sang in chorus :

Madame, is this your daughter, (/;/.?.)
With buckles of'silver and buttons of gold I
Oa their Ijench sit the watermen bold.

The veiled lady has to answer with the same
burden :

Or-

Yes, this is my daughter, (/jts.)

This is not my daughter, (Lis.)

With buckles of silver and buttons of gold ;

On their bench sit the mariners bold.

After feeling several heads, Eliza, Itcaring Jules'
stifled laughter from under the sliawl, thought she
had at last got hold of her victim. She felt the head ;

* These games, which, sixty years ago, used to be the delight of Cana-
dian social meetings, have been gradually discontinued in town, since tiio
foreign element has entered so much more largely into the Ixjst Frencli
society.

The Canadians of old, even at their smallest gatherings, were accustomed
to sing lK)th at dinner and supper ; the ladies and gentlemen alternately.

272

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

it was certainly Jules', or ""ery like it ; the face was
perhaps rather elongated, but that devil Jules had so
many ways of disguising himself. Had he not on
one occasion mystified a large party for a whole
evening, disguised in a costume of Louis the Four-
teenth's time, and passing for an old aunt who had,
that very day arrived from France ? Whilst thus
disguised had he not even had the impudence to kiss all
the pretty ladies there assembled, Eliza herself in-
cluded ? How abominable it was of him ! Jules is
certainly capable of anything ! Acting on this im-
pression and trembling with joy, she pinched his
ear ; a cry of pain was heard, then a low growling,
followed by a formidable barking. Eliza tore the
bandage from her eyes and found herself face to face
with a row of threatening teeth : it was Niger. Like
Sir Walter Scott's farmer Detmond, who called all his
dogs " Pepper," the d'Habervilles called all their
dogs Niger or Nigra, according to their sex, in re-
membrance of their two ancestors who had been thus
named by Jules during his early college da^ in
order to shew the progress he was making.

Eliza, without being the least disconcerted, took off
her high- heeled shoe, and falling upon Jules, (who,

ids arms, made use of him to

liavmg

Niger still in

ward off her blows), chased him from room to room,
followed by ihe rest of tiie party laughing frantically.

Happy times ! when wild merriment supplied the
place of wit, in wliicii however the French race were
by no means deficient. Happy times ! when the
liost's hearty welcome atoned for the absence of luxury
in the furniture, and expense at the tables of the Cana-
dians whom the conquest had ruined. The houses
j^eemed to become larger for the sake of hospitality,
like the hearts of those who inhabited them ! Dormi-
tories were improvised for the occasion ; everything
comfortable was given up to the ladies ; whilst, the
rougher sex, consigned to no matter where, put up
with whatever they could get.

Men like these, who had passed half tlv i. jives

THE HOME CIRCLE.

273

bivouackini^ in the forests during tlio most rigorous
season of the year • wlio had travelled four or five
hundred leagues .'..i snow-shoes, often passing the
night in holes which they dug in the snow, as had
been the case during their expedition to surprise
the English in Acadia ; these men of iron could
easily dispense with eider-down for their nocturnal
oouch.

The merriment only ceased whilst they were asleep,
for it recommenced in the morning. As every one
wore powder in those days, those who were the most
handy acted as hair-dressers, and even as barbers to
the others. The patient, wrapped in a large sheet,
sr" ed himself on a chair; the impromptu hair-dresser
generally exceeded his duty either by taking the
powder-puff to mark out an immense pair of whiskers
on those who had none, or by immoderately lengtlien-
ing one side of the whiskers to the detriment of the
other, on those who were provided with these appen-
dages, or l)y powdering their eyebrows. It often
happened that the victim.s of these jokes perceived
nothing of them, till, on their entering the drawing-
room, they were greeted by the ladies with shouts o(
laughter. *

The party broke up at the end of thr .'e days, not-
withstanding Mons. and Mme. d'Haberville's <'fforts
to detain them longer. Only Archy, who had pro-
mised to pass a month with his old friends, kept his
word and remained with the family.

* TI . uthor is paintinsr Canadian society willioiit exiicj^eration, and such
as he knew it in his childhood.

274

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

CHAPTER XVIll.

Ainsi passe sur la lerrc tout cc qui fut boil,
vcrtueux, sensible! Homme, tu n'es qu'un
songe rapide, un reve douloureux ; tu n'existes
que par le mnlheur; tu n'es quelque chose
que par la tristesse de ton aine et I'eternellc
melanoolie de ta pensee.

ClIAXEAirBRIANU.

CONCLL !• rON.

After the dej)artLire of tliei- guests, the family parly
Uvod on their former terms of intimacy. Jules, who
had regained his strength in the bracing air of his
native land, passed the greater part of his day hunting,
and shooting with Locheill ; the abundance of game
"at that time of year, rendering it an agreeable pastime.
They supped at seven o'clock, and went to bed at
ten ; and the evenings always appeared too shori, even
without the help of cards.*

Jules, who was in ignorance of what had passed
between his sister and Locheill on the shores of Port-
•Joli, could not help being struck by his friends fits of
•sadness, without however being able to penetrate the
(cause of them. He only received evasive replies to
ull the questions he put to him on this subject. Think-
ing that he had at last guessed the cause of it, he one
evening, which they passed together, made up his
mind to broach the subject.

•♦ The Canadians of old, when only a Jamily parly, used to breakfast at
'S o'do*k. The ladiea used to take coflee or chocolate, the men a few
glasses of white wine with their meat which was generally cold. At noon
they used to dine : a plateful of soup, some boiled meat and one other dish,
either a ragout, or breiled meat used to constitute this meal. The joint
used to be cooked only for supper, which they used to take about 7 o'clock ;
by chatvging the names of the meals, this is our present way of living, what
,used to, he. uieir dinner is our luncheon, their supper is our dinner.

ii M t iwilOW j M > WW «( w^ '' t ' -MiMrtii (iiWifflKfea'il-' ' i^ iS A

CONCLUSION.

275

" i have remarked, my dear brother, " he said " your
fits of melancholy, in pipite of your efforts to liide the
cause of them from us. You do not do us justice, Archy,
nor do you do justice to yourself. Your conscience
acquitting you, as to your performance of duties
which a soldier cannot shirk, you ought not to think
about the past any more. Besides, you have rendered
such service to all my family by saving their lives,
which they would have lost in the shipwreck of the
Auguste, as to have repaid them every obligation ; it
is we, indeed, who owe you a debt of gratitude of
which we shall r^ever be able to acquit ourselves. It
was quite natural, that prejudiced against you by in-
formation gathered from those whom the disasters of
1759 had reduced to indigence, and forgetting your
noble qualities, friends like ourselves even, soured by
misfortune, should have believed the slanderous re-
ports ; but you know that a little explanation sufficed
to dissipate these feelings, and to make us give you
back our former aflection. If my father bore you ill-
will for some time, it was only because it is a part of
his nature not to listen to any explanations when he
once thinks himself insulted. He is now as attached
to you as ever ; our losses are in a great measure
repaired and we live more tranquilly under the British
government than under the French dominion. Our
habitants, have, as my uncle Raoul says, like new
Cincinnati, exchanged the musket for the ploughshare.
They are opening up fresh lands and in a few years
this seigniory will be of great value. By the help of
the little properly, which I came in for, we shall soon
be as well off as before the conquest. Therefore, my
dear Archy, do throw off these fits of depression which
it grieves us to witness, and resume your former joy-
ousness."

Locheill was silent for some little time, and it was
only after a painful struggle that he replied :

" My dear brother it is impos3ible : the wound is
more recent than you think for, and will bleed for the
rest of my life, all my dreams of future happiness are
18*

are

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

at an end. But let us drop the subject ; my noblest
feelings have been wounded ; an unkind word from
you would rankle in my heart.

" An unkind word from me, do you say Archy !
What can you mean ? my friend and brother, at whose
expense I have often amused myself, well knows that
my heart was not in fault, ; and that I was always
ready to ask pardon for my offences. You shake
your head sadly ! What can there be the matter, that
you cannot confide to your early friend ? May i not
say, Archy, to your brother ? I have never had any-
thing hid from you •, you have read in my heart, as
In your own, and you always seemed to reciprocate
my confidence. You never seemed to have any
secrets from me. A curse upon those circumstances
which have cooled your friendship !"

" Stop, my brother ! said Archy ; stop, the time has
come ! However painful it may be for me to tell you
all, I would rather do so than expose myself to sus-
picions, which, as coming from you, would be most
painful to me. I will speak openly to you, but on the
express condition, that like an impartial judge, you
will hear me to the end without interruption. To-
morrow, but not till to-morrow, we will return to this
painful subject ; till then promise me to keep the
secret I am about to confide to you."

" I give you my word " f?!aid Jules, pressing his
hand.

Locheill then related to him the conversation he
had recently hud with Blanche without omitting the
smallest particular ; then, lighting his candle, he
retired to his bedroom, sighing deeply.

Jules pnHNPd a very restless night. He, having
only studied woman in the drawing-rooms, and
amidst the frivolous society of the Faubourg 3aint
(jjermuin, could hardly understand the grandeur and
sublimity of the sacrifice which his sister was making :
her sentiments appeared to him romantic, or arising
from an imagination that was perverted by misfor-
tune. Only too happy at the thought of an alliance

K£ssa''

CONCLUSION.

277

whicli fulfilled his dearesi wishes, ho made up his
mind, having obtained Aichy's consent, to have a
serious conversation with Blanche, feeling certain he
would overrule her objections : " she loves him, he
thought to himself, so I shall gain my cause."

Man, with all hi^-" apparent superiority ; man, in his
absurd egotism, has never yet completely sounded the
depths of the female heart ; of that inexhaustible store
of love, self-denial, and boundless devotedness. The
poets have sung in every tone the praises of this Eve,
this master-piece of beauty, fresh from the hands of
her creator ; but what is ihis material beauty com-
pared with that of the soul of a virtuous woman,
struggling with adversity ! there is where she shines
forth in all her glory ! it is on the moral qualities of
such a woman that the pouts should have exhausted
their praises ! see, what a pitiable being is man when
he has to fjice misfortune ! it is then that, like a despi-
cable pygmy, he lean^i tottering on his giant-like com-
panion, who, like the fabled Atlas carrying the mate-
rial world on jjis robust shoulders, bears all the pains
and sorrows of suffering humanity without bending
under the burden ! It is not to be wondered at that
Jules, who only knew the grosser qualities of woman,
thought he should easily triumph over his sister's
scruples.

" Come, Blanche," said Jules to hi isister after dinner
the day succeeding his conversation with hm frieud ;
"come Blanche, see there isour Scotch Nimrod setting
off with his gun upon his shoulder, so as to give tMt
Some teal for supper ; let us see if we cannot climb
the narrow path that leads to the top of the cape, as
quickly as in our childish days !

" With all my heart, dear Jules ; run on, and you
will see that my Canadian legs have not lost any of
their agility."

The brother and sister, by the help of the projecting
stones, and the shrubs which grew in the clefts of the
rocks, soon arrived at the summit of the promontory ;
and there after a moment's sile ce, employed in gazing

«78

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

on the magnificent panurauia which lay open bel'ore
their eyes, Jules said to his sister :

" It is not unintentionally that I have brought you
here, I want lo talk to you privately on a subject of
the greatest importance. You love our Iriend Archy,
you have long loved him ; and still for reasons which
I cannot understand, arising from exageraled feelings
of delicacy that warp your judgment, you impose a
sacrifice on yourself which is against nature, laying
up for your future life much unhappincss, as the
victim ot a love you will never be able to eradicate
completely from your heart. As for me were I to
love an English girl, and were she to respond to my
feelings, I would marry her as willingly as I would
marry a country-woman."

Blanche's eyes filled with tears ; she took her
brother's hand, and tenderly pressing it in her own,
she replied :

" If you were to marry an English woman, my dear
Jules, I would take her to my heart as a beloved sister ;
but what you could do without the slightest impro-
priety, it would be cowardly in me to do. You have
nobly acquitted yourself of your debt to your country.
Your war-cry of * Follow me, grenadiers ' electrified
your soldiers in the thickest of the fight ; twice were
you borne bleeding from the plains which were still
wet with the blood of our enemies, and on the other
continent you have received three wounds. Yes, my
dear brother, you have nobly acquitted yourself of
your debt to your country, and might indulge yourself
by marrying a daughter of Albion ! But I, a weak
woman ; what have I done for this subjugated and
now silent land ; for this land which has so often
resounded with my countrymen's shouts of triumph !
Shall a d'Haberville be the first to give the example
of a double yoke to the noble daughters of Canada ?
It is natural, and even it is to be wished, that the
French and Anglo-Saxon races, who after centuries
of hatred and strife have now but the one country,
and liv»' under the same laws, should become united

■vw^' j^rw»Tt>»'T^<wi3nFw.-ri iinpiiii, iiu.iii |iir^«M^i Biimp >» #l>»"<i

CONCLUSION.

27&

by the closest bonc]«5, but it would be unworlhy of me
to bo tho one to set the exumple, after so many disas^
lers ; as I told Arohy, it would give people room to
believe that the proud Briton, after having conqufrvd
and ruined the father, had bought with his gold tlie hand
of the poor Canadian girl, who was only too ^dad to
give it to him at that price. Oh ! never ! never /) '

And the noble girl, leaning her hear^ on her hrotlier's
shoulder, wept bitterly.

" No one will ever know," sbo continued , " even
you yours(!lf will never understand the full extent of
my sacritie(> ; but fear not, Jules, that the sacrifio<' will
be beyond iny strength : proud of the honorable senti-
ments wiiieh have prompted my conduct, I will
devote lUNself to my parents, and my days will flow
on peacefully and calmly in the midst of my family.
Rest certain, " she continued proudly, " that she who
has loved the noble Archy Cameron of Loehelll with
constancy, will never sully her heart with another
earthly love. You chose a l)ad spot for your desired
con\ersation, for from this headland I have often
proudly contemplated the sj)lendid manor-house of
my ancestors, now replaced by yon humble dwel-
ling which has K-en built at the cost of so many
sacrifices and priva ions. Nt)\v let us go down ; and
if you love me, never return to this painful subject."

" Yours is a lofty soul ! " exclaimed Jules.

And the brother and sister remained for some time
sobbing in each other's arms.

Archy, after having lost all hope of marrying
Blanche d'Haberville, npplied himself in earnest to
discharging the debt of gratitude he owed to Dumais.
Blanche's rejection of his suit altered his intentions
in this matter, and left him greater latitude ; for he
also determined to remain single. Archy, whom
misfortune had early matured, had, whilst still young,
dispassionately studied men and things ; and ho had
come to the wise conclusion that marriages are seldom
happy where mutual love does not exist. Far from
possessing the self-conc(;if of almost ail yoimg men,

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•280

TlIK CANADIANS OF OLD.

who honestly believe that every woman adores them,
and that tliey have only lo choose from among the
lar^»e harvest of hearts at tlioir disposal, Locheill had
but a iiumble opinion of himself. Gifted with unnsual
good looks, and with all the qualities which captivate
women, the simple elegance of his manners was
remarked by every one, whenever he appeared in
society ; but he was as diflident as he was fascinating,
and thou^rht like Moliere\s Toinette that feigned love,
" was vory like the real thing " (c). " I was poor and
proscribed," he thought lo himself, "and I was loved
for myself alone ; now that I am rich, how could 1
tell, whether it was any thing beyond my rank and
riches which any other woman might love in rac,
supposing even that my first and only love could be
extinguished in my heart." It was for these reasons
that 1/e decided to remain single.

The sun was disappearing behind the Laurentides,
when Locheill arrived at Dumais' farm. He was
agreeably surprised with the order and cleanliness
that was everywhere visible. The farmer's wife who
was busy in her dairy and assisted by a servant girl,
came to meet him without recognising him, and
begged him to walk into the house.

*' 1 believe that this is serjpant Dumais'," said Ar-
chy.

" You are right, oir, and I am his wife ; my hus-
band will soon be back from the fields with a load of
wheat, I will send one of my children to hasten him."

" There is no hurry, madam ; I have come here to
give you tidings of one monsieur Archy Locheill
whom you knew formerly ; you may perhaps have
forgotten him."

Mme. Dumais came nearer to the :tranger and
after looking silently at him for a short time, said :

" You are certainly something like him ; are you
not some relation of his ? Forget Mr. Archy ! oh ! do
not tell me that he can believe us capable of such an
ingratitude ! do you not know that he exposed him-
self to nearly certain death, in order to save my hus-

CONCLUSION.

281

band's life, and we pray God every day to watch over
him, and bestow every blessing on our benefactor !
Forget Mr. Archy ! oh, sir ! you hurt my feelings very
much."

Locheill was much af)'ectb(^ He took Dumais'
youngest child, the little Louise wlio was seven years
old, on his knees and while caressing her said :

" And vou, my pretty one, do you know Mr. Ar-
chy ?"

" I have never seen him," said tl;e child, " but
every day we say a little prayer for him."

" What prayer do you say," replied Archy ?"

" My God, pour down Thy blessings upon Mr. Ar-
chy, who saved Papa's life, if he is still living ; and
if he is dead, give him Thy Holy Paradise."

Locheill went on talking with Mme. Dumais till
the latter hearing her husband's voice near the barn,
ran to tell him tliat a strange gentleman was waiting
at the house to give him news of Mr. Archy. Du-
mais, who was preparing to unload his cart, threw
down his pitch-fork, and made but one bound from
the barn to the house. It was sufficiently dark when
he entered for him not to be able to distinguish the
stranger's features.

" You are welcome," said he, saluting him, " as
you bring me news of one who is very dear to me. "

" You are, of course, serjeant Dumais," said Lo-
cheill.

" And you Mr. Archy !" exclaimed Dumais throw-
ing himself into his arms : " do you think I could
ever forget the voice which called out ' courage ' to
me when I was hanging over the abyss, that same
voice too which I so often heard during my illness."

" My dear Dumais," resumed Archy, towards the
end of the evening, " I have come to ask a great ser-
vice of you."

" A service !" replied Dumais ; " can I, a poor
habitant, be fortunate enough to be of use to a gen-
tleman like you .' It would be the happiest day of my
life."

282

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

" Well, Dnmais, it rests with you to restore me to
health ; for as you now see me, I am sick, more sick
than you imagine."

" You really do nok paler and sadder than form-
erlj'. But what is the matter with you ?"

" Have you over heard of a sickn°ss," replied Lo-
chiell, " to which the English are very subject, p.nd
which is called the spleen or blue devils ?"

" No," replied Dumals ; " 1 have known several
of you English, who, be it said without offence,
seemed to have some sort of a devil in them, but I
always thought that they were darker-colored devils."

Archy began to laugh.

" What we call the blue devils, my dear Dnmais,
is what you Canadians call troubh^ of mind."

" Now I understand," said Dumais," but what I
cannot understand is, how a man like you, who has
everything he can wish for, possesses so many talents,
and has so many ressources to chase away sad
thoughts, can allow liimself to be troubled with the
blues."

*' My dear Dumais," said Arehy, " I might reply
that every one in this world has his troubles, even
those that appear the happiest ; suliice it to say, that,
with me, it is a malady, and that I rely on your as-
sistance to cure myself of it."

" Make what use you can of me, Mr. Archy, I am
at your service night and day."

*' I have tried everything," continued Archy ;
*' study and literary work ; I was better by day, but
my nights were sleepless ; and even if I had the good
fortune to sleep, ! awoke as unhappy as ever. I have
been thinking, that it was only strong manual labor
which could cure me, and that after a hard day's
work, I might taste that refreshing slumber which has
been so long denied me."

" That is true," said Dumais; "when a man has
worked hard all day, I defy him to pass sleepless
nights; but what are yon thinking of doing? and in

CONCLUSION.

288

what way am I forlimalf enougli to be able lo be of
use to you ?"

" My dear Dumais, I expect to be cured by you.
But now listen without interrupting me whilst I im-
part my plans to you. I am now ricli, very rich even ;
my idea is, that, since Providence ha« sent more
riches than I ever hoped for, I ought to employ a part
of them in doing good. In this parish and neighbor-
hood, there is an immense extent of waste land, to
be either sold, or granted. My plan is to take a con-
siderable extent and not only to superintend the clear-
ing, but work at it myself; you know I have good
strong arms; and I could do as w(^ll as any on<? else
at it."

" I know that," put in Dumais.

" There are many poor people," Archy went on,
** w^ho would be only too happy to fmd work, pari icu-
larlv when they would get good wages. You see, Du-
mais, that I could not see to everything myself, and
that I must have some one to help me ; for what could
I do of an evening, and in the bad weather all alone
in a tent, without a friend to keep me company ; I
should die of dullness."

" Let us set off to-morrow," said Dumais, " and
visit all the best lots, with which I am, in fact, al-
ready well acquainted."

"I thank you," said Archy, pressing his hand.
" But who would take care of your farm during your
frequent absences ?"

" Do not be uneasy about that. Sir : my wife herself
could do that very well, even without her brother, an
old bachelor, who lives with us : my land has never
been any the worse for my absence. I do not know
how it is, but it is a sort of malady with me preferring
the musket to the plough. My wife often reproaches
me on this head, without our being any the worse
friends however."

" Do you know," said Archy, " that over there on
the edge of the river, near the maple thicket, there is
the most charming site for building a house, which I

•284

TIIK CANADIANS OF OLD.

know of, Vours is oM ; we will build one large
cnoiii^ii to hold us all. 1 will undertake this, on con-
dition that I myself shall he entitled to occupy one
half jf it during my lifetime ; and at my death, well, all
shall belong to you. I have vowed to remain single."

" Men like you," said Dumais, " are only too rarely
to be met with ; it would be a pity that the race
should become extinct. But I am beginning to see
that instead of thinking of yourself, you are thinking
of me and my family, and it is us that you arc
wishing to benefit."

*' Now let us speak openly," resumed Archy, " the
only real friends that I have in the world are the
d'FIabervilh^ family and your's."

" 1 thank you, Sir," said Dumais, "for putting us
poor habitants in the samt^ category as that noble and
illustrious family."

" I only consider," said Locheill, ** the virtues and
good qualities of men. I certainly love and respect
nobility; but that does not prevent my loving and
respecting all estimable people, and rendering them
the justice they deserve. I intend giving you the fourth
p'lrt of my fortune."

" Ah! Sir," exclaimed Dumais.

" Now listen well to me, my friend. A gentleman
never tells a lie. When I told you that I had trouble
of mind, I told you the truth. I have found the
remedy for this frightful malady : plenty of occu-
pation and manual labor ; and doing good to those
I love. My intention then is to give you a fourth of
my fortune during my lifetime ; now take care
Dumais ; I am as persevering and obstinate as the
Scotchman which I am ; if you demur, instead of a
quarter, I am just the man to give you half. Bat
to speali seriously, my dear Dumais, you would
make me very unhappy by refusing me."

" If it is indeed so," said Dumais with a tearful
voice, " I accept your gifts, which, any way, it is only
with a bad grace' that I could refuse from a man like
you."

CONCLUSION.

J85'

lan
ble
he
u-
se
of
re
he

a
at

Let us leave Lochcill occupied in enriching Dumai8,
and let us go back to our other friends.

The good gentleman, nearly a centenarian, only
lived a year after Jules' arrival. He died surrounded
by his friends, after having had every affectionate care
bestowed on him by Blanche and her brother, during
the month that his illness lasted. A few minutes
before his death, he begged Jules to open the window
of his room, and casting a dying look on the little
river which was flowing calmly before his door,
he said to him ;

" It was there, my dear friend ; under that walnut-
tree that I related my misfortunes to you ; it is there
that I gave you advice prompted by the experience
which age brings, i die happy, for 1 see that you
have profited by it. Ai'lcr my death take that little
taper-stand ; whilst recalling to your mind the long
sleepless nights of which it has been a witness in my
solitary chamber, it will also remind you of the advice
I have given you, if by chance it might be fading
from your memory."

" As for you, my dear and faithful Andrew," con-
tinued Monsieur d'Rgmont, " it is with deep regret
that I leave you behind on this earth, where you have
shared all my sorrows. You will be very lonely and
solitary after my death ! You have promised me to
pass the rest of your days with the d'Haberville
family, they will take every care of your old age.
After your decease you know the poor will be our
heirs."

** My dear master," said Franca:;ur sobbing, '^ the
poor will not have long lo wait for their inheritance."

The good gentleman, after having hade all his
friends a most affectionate farewell, addressed the
car6, begging him to recite the prayers for the dying.
And at the words : " Go forth, O Christian soul from
" this world, in the name of God the Father Almighty
" who created thee ; " he gave his last sigh. Sterne
would have said that : '* The recording angei dropped
" a tear on the errors of his youth, and wiped them

268

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

" out for ever." Tlie angels ^.te more compassionate
than men, for men never forget or pardon the faults of
others.

Andrew Fraucteur was struck with paralysis as
they lowered his master's body to its last resting-
place, and only survived him tiirec weeks.

When Jules had said to his sister " were I to love
*' an English girl, and were I to find that she responded
" to my feelings, I would as willingly marry neras I
" would marry one of ray country-women," she was
far from suspecting her brother's real intentions. Infact,
Jules, on his passage across the Atlantic, had made
the acquaintance of a young English lady of great
beauty. Jules, like another Saint-Prcux, had given
her other lessons than those in the french language
and grammar, during their two months voyage. He
had likewise shewn his good taste ; for the youn
girl, in addition to her great beauty, possessed a.
those qualities which inspire an ardent and sincere
love.

At length, all obstacles bei.ig removed, and all
difficulties .surmounted by the two families, Jules,
the following year, married the fair daughter of
Albion, who very soon leanit to win the hearts of all
around her.

My uncle Raoul, who had always owed the
English a grudge for having broken his leg in Acadia,
but who was too gentlemanly to be wanting in good
manners, at first shut himself up in his room when-
ever he wanted to swear at his ease against his
beautiful niece's fellow-countrymen ; but at the end
of a month's time he was so complelely won by that
charming young woman's attentions and amability,
that he ail at once suppressed his oaths, to the great
benefit of his soul and of the pious ears he had so
often S(!andalized.

" That rascal Jules," my uncle Raoul would say,
" did not shew any want of taste in marrying that
English girl ; and that holy pope was right enough in
saying that the young islanders woula have been

CONCLUSION.

287

m-
lis
Qd
lat

angels, had they only been christians : non angli, scd
angeli forent^ si essent christianiy^^ he added with a
determined look.

It was quite another thing when p(X)r dear uncle,
iiolding a little nephew on one knee and a little niece
on the other, danced them to the pretty tunes sung by
Canadians travellers. How proud he was when their
mama called out to him.

" Do pray corne to my assistance, my dear uncle,
these little wretches will not go to sleep without you."

My uncle Raoul had announced that he intended
himself to look after his nephew's military education ;
from four years of age, therefore, the embryo soldier,
armed with a wooden gun, was perpetually charging
furiously at the abdomen of his instructor, who was
obliged to defend the attacked part with his cane.

" The little rascal," srid the chevalier straightening
himself, " will have the d'Habervillc's fiery courage,
combined with the tenacity and independence of the
proud islanders he springs from on his mother's side."

Jose had at first been very cool towards his young
mistress, but he ended by being sincerely attached to her.
She had soon discovered his vulnerable point : Jose,
like his defunct father, liked wine and brandy, and
they certainly took no more effect on his Breton brain
than if the liquor he swallowed had been poured on
the weathercock which surmounted the seignior's
may-pole, in order to hinder that venerable bird from
performing its proper functions ; the good lady there-
tore was constantly presenting Jose, sometimes with
a glass of brandy to warm him, sometimes with a
glass of wine to cool him. Jos6 ended by acknow-
ledging that though Englishmen were somewhat
boorish. Englishwomen did not at all resemble them.

Monsieur and Mme. d'Haberville, after so many
vicissitudes, feeling at ease about their children's

f ►respects, passed many peaceful and tranquil years,
iving to extreme old age. The captain's last words
to his son were :

" Serve your new sovereign with as much fidelity

288

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

as i have Hsrvetl the King of France ; and may God
bless you my dear f<on, for the consolation you have
been to me."

My uncle Raoul, whose decease occurred three
years before that of his brother, had but one regret
in dying ; that of quitting this life before his grand-
nephew had embraced the military profession.

" There is but one career worthy of ad'Habcrville,"
he incessantly repeated, " that of arms."

However he found some consolation in the hope
that his nephew, who had distinguished himself at
college, would be a learned man like himself, so that
science would not die out in the family.

Jos6, who had an iron (constitution and nerves of
steel, Jose who had never had a minute's illness in
his life, looked upon death as a somewhat hypotheti-
cal event. After the decease of his old masters, one
of his friends saying to him one day :

" Do you know, JosA, that you are at least eighty
years old, and that to look at you, one would not take
you to be more than fifty ? "

Jo86 lent on one hip, as a sign of his stability, blew
the ashes out of the stem of his pipe, with the only
hand he had still remaining fumbled in his breeches
pocket for his tobacco-bag, flint and steel, and then
without hurrying himself, In proof of what he was
about to say, replied :

" As you already know, I am our defunct captain's
foster-brother ; I was brought up at his house ; I fol-
lowed him to all the wars he was at ; I have seen
his children grow up, and now you see, I have just
begun again, by taking care of his grandchildren.
Well ! so long as a d'Haberville is in need of my
services, I do not think of leaving !"

" Then you think of living as long as the defunct
Methuselah ?" said the neighbor.

" Still longer, if necessary," replied Jos6.

Then having got all he wanted out of his pocket,
he crammed his pipe full, put some lighted tinder on
the top of it, and began to smoke looking at his friend

C0NC7.USI0N.

289

let

*-7

m
Id

like a person who is thoroughly convinced of the
truth of what he has been laying down.

Jose kept his word for a dozen years ; but it was
in vain that he tried to withstand old age, by busying
himself about his usual occupations, in spite of his
masters' orders to the contrary ; at last he was
obliged to keep the house. Ail the family were
anxious about him.

" What is the matter with you, my dear Jo86 .>"
<iaid Jules.

" Oh ! only idleness," said Jos6, " or perhaps my
rheumatics."

Now Jose had never had an attack of this malady ;
it was only a pretext.

" Give the good old fellow, ma'am, his morning
glass, it will revive him," said Archy.

" I am going to fetch you a glass of excellent
brandy," said Madame Jules.

" Not just now," replied Jos6, " I have always
some in my trunk ; but this morning I do not seem
to want any."

They then began to be seriously alarmed ; this was
a bad symptom.

" Then I will make you a cup of tea," said
Madame Jules, " and you will find yourself easier " (6).

" My English wife," said Jules, " thinks her tea
a sovereign remedy for all ills."

Jose drank the tea, declared it was a fine medicine,
and that he felt better ; this did not, however, prevent
the faithful servant taking to his bed that same
evening, never to leave it again alive.

When the good fellow saw that his end was
approaching, he said to Jules, who was sitting up all
night with him :

" I have prayed God to prolong my life till your
children's next holidays, so that I may see them once
more before I die ; but I shall not have that consola-
tion

»j

*iSi»i'^i^^,!WMl>■.»^^w»l<J««*^>^fc:

'i-.aai

S90

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

" You shall see Ihem to-morrow, my dear Jo86."

An hour afterwards Locheill was on the road to
Quebec ; and the next evening every one that was
dearest on earth to that faithful and affectionate ser-
vant, was assembled round his dying bed. After
having conversed with them for some time, and bade
them the most tender farewell, he collected all his
strength to sit up in his bed ; and Jules having
approached to support him, felt a burning tear fall
on his hand. After this last effort of that powerful
nature, he, who had shared the d'Haberville's good
and evil fortune, was no more.

" Let us pray for the soul of one of the moat excel-
lent men that I know," said Archy, closing his
eyes.

Jules and Blanche, in spite of all remonstrances,
would not confide to any one the task of watching
beside their old friend, during the three days that his
body remained at the manor-house.

" If one of our family had died," they said, " Jose
would not have allowed any one but himself to have
fulfilled this last duty."

One day, that Archy, during his frequent visits at
the d'Haberville's, was walking before the manor
house with Jules, he saw coming towards them on
foot, an old man, tolerably well dressed, and carrying
a seal-skin bag on his back.

" Who is that man .?" said he.

" Ah," said Jules, ** that is our friend Mr. D ,

carrying his deeds and papers on his back," (c).

" His deeds and papers ? how is that ?" said
Archy.

** Certainly ; he is an itinerant lawyer ; he passes
through certain localities every three months, drawing
out fresh deeds, and copying and filling up the rough
drafts which he always carries with him, so as not to
be taken unawares. He is an excellent and amiable
man, a Frenchman by birth, and very intelligent.
On his arrival in Canada, he began by dealing in

CONCLUSION.

291

pictureiv, but he gained but little nt it ; afterwards,
remembering that he had formerly studied for two
years in France with an attorney, he boldly presented
himself to the Judges, passed an examination, which,
if it was not very brilliant, was sufficiently sound for
his new country ; and returned home triumphant, with
a notary's commission in his pocket. I assure you,
every one gets on very well with his deeds, which
are prepared with the most scrupulous honesty ; it is
this which supplies the place of the purer diction (too
often spotted by want of honesty) of more learned
lawyers."

" Your wandering lawyer," replied Archy, *' arrives
very opportunately ; I have something for him to do."

In fact, Locheill, who had already made great pro-
gress in the work of clearing he was so actively
engaged in for the benefit of his friend Dumais, made
over to him in due form, all that part of his property ;
reserving only for himself, during his lifetime, the
half of the new and spacious house which he had built.

Archy 's visits to the d'Haberville manor-house
became more and more frequent, as he advanced in
age ; and he ended by residing there altogether, as
soon as a devoted friendship had replaced the warmer
sentiment which had clouded the best days of his
youth. Henceforth Archy looked upon Blanche as
his sister by adoption : and the sweet name of
brother, which Blanche gave him, purified what still
remained of love in her noble woman's heart.

Jules had been an affectionate and dutiful son ; his
two children were to him what he had been to his
good parents.

As long as Monsieur and Madame d'Haberville
lived, Jules remained always with them, only absent-
ing himself on indispensable business, or to fulfil a
duty to which his father, who, before the conques
had been a strict observer of etiquette, attached much
importance : that of being present, with his wife, at
the Queen's ball, on the 31st December ; as well as
19*

mmmm

)

292

THE OANADIANS OF OLD.

the next morning at eleven o'clock at a levee, held by
the governor, wlien, as representative of the King, he
received the respectful homage of all who bad the
entree at the St. Louis Castle at Quebec {d).

The author has so much affection for the principal
personages in ihis veracious history, that he cannot
bear to make them disappear from the scene ; one
gets attached to the fruit of one's own labors. He
also fears to grieve such of his readers as share in his
attachment to his heroes, should he despatch them
with a stroke of the pen ; time will do its work of
death, without any assistance from the author.

It is eleven o'clock, on an evening towards the end
of October ; all the d'Haberville family are assembled
in a small drawing-room, which is sufficiently
illumined, even without the assistance of the wax
candles, by the vivid light shed by an armful of cedar
wood, which is blazing in the large chimney.
Locheill, who is now nearly sixty years of age, is
playing chess with Blanche. Jules, seated between
his wi^ and daughter, is teasing both of them, and
yet not forgetting the chess-players.

Young Archy d'Haberville, Jules' only son, and
Locheill's god-son, appears to be in deep thought,
while following with an attentive eye the fantastic
figures which his imagination creates in the embers
which are slowly dying out on the hearth.

" What are you thinking about, grave philosopher ?"
says his father to him.

**• I have been follo^^ing with ever-increasing
interest," said the young man, ** a small group of
men, women and children, who are walking, dancing,
jumping, ascending and descending ; and now, all
has disappeared."

The cedar-wood fire had just gone out.

" You are, indeed, your mother's son, the worthy
god-son of Archy Locheill," said Jules d'Haberville,
rising to wish the family good night, on their all
retiring to rest.

)

CONCLUSION.

298

j,i*u® ^M.®*® fantastic figures on which younc
d Haberville was gazing, my characters, dear reade?
Have moved before your eyes for a while, only to dis^
appear suddenly, perhaps for ever, with him who
3et them m action.

Farewell then also, dear reader, ere my hand shall
be colder than our Canadian winters, and refuse to
UsLCc my thoughts.

THE END.

NOTES AND EXPLANATIONS.

CHAPTER I.

(at) All the Pointt Levis boatmen beinff also fntttvn, k was lio nmili
tfarng, some sixty yeara ago, to cross the Sk. Lawrence to Quebec during Ih^
agricultural seasons. On market days there were fixed hours tor croaeitig,
but on other days travellers were often detained at Point* Leiris half* day
«t a time, and oAen were even obliged to sleep there. The boatmen who
w«re generally pretty surly, only lefl off their work fur their oustomet^
and even then tney often refused if they had any trifling mattar in hand*
Sometimes, however, it must be acknowledged that the women replaced
their husbands ; in iact by means of a little coaxing thry were ofteM
persuaded to have pity on the traveller, and leaving their homes under tbff
protection of the hou!<ehold gods, take theoarthemtelves. It is but jostioA
to them to say that the oar once in their hands, they rowed the little canoei
then in use, as skilfully aS their husbamb could do.

Failing the Canadians, however, people coald alwa3r8danng fheanmmer
time have recourse to the Indians, whose huts covered nearly two miles o^
the shore, from Pointe Levis in a south>ea8terly direction. Bot theatf
gentlemen were hardly ever sober ! They held it a decided duty to drink to
the health of their good father George III., even to the last remnant of tb«
gifts received by them from the government ; certainly a very prtiseworth^
sentiment, but one not much admired by travellers when they saw the frail
birch bark canoes steered by half tipsy men.

This recalls to my mind a little anecdote which depicts the mnnners ot
that time. It was on a Sunday, a day of amusement for all wit iiout dis-
tinction of creed. The public houses were open to a!l comers ; in spite o4
the prohibitive laws with regard to the Indians, they had in the coarse ot
the morning drank more /o;» (rum) than raitte (lait, milk.)

(I have never been able to fird out why these Indians make use of tiit
letter / instead of the r in the word rum, and in the same way at r instead
of / in the word lait ; also they use b instead off in the word f^irt
(brother) ; generally saying mo?i, brere instead of mon frire. I leave the
decision of this important question to those deeply versed in Indian idioms.V

It was Sunday then ; several young men (and ( was of the number)
ft'eed from thb trammels of their omces, were to meet in the Lower Town
during the afternoon, and croins over to Pointe Levis to dine. Bat when I
arrived at the landing-place with one of my friends, the joyons band hod
already crossed the river in a boat that chance had procured them ; it wa»
very prudent in them considering the frightful wind that was blowing.

The first object that attracted our attention was four half tipsy IndiAna
who were putting oflT from the shore in one of their fVail craft. When at
but a short distance from land the canoe upset. We saw the Indians re-
appear on the surface of the water immediately, and swim like beavers
towards the shore, where a scor** "'' *'"-<p friends Were awaiting them, and

S96

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

holding out oara to help them to land on a little quay— level with the water,
•nd from which Ibey had only started a few minutes before their immersion.
We then witnessed an amusmg scene t the brandy must have warmed the
hearts of these philosophers by nature, generally so cold and solemn ; for
the men and women crying, sobbing and yelling, threw themselves mto the
arms of their shipwrecked friends, who were also crying, sobbing and
yelling ; and there was no end to the embraces.

The adventure of the four Indians ought to have been a satisfactory
warning to us of the danger to which we should be e^cposed on crossing
the river during such weather, but we were determmed to rejoin our
friends and nothing could stop us. Besides the river St. Lawrence had
been our childhood's friend ; we had already been nearly drowned in it
two or three times in the course of our aquatic expeditions, and certainly
therefore it would not now be hostile to us.

In spite of our excellent reasoning, however, we decided that it would
any way be more prudent not to employ any but a sober Indian to take us
across, such was certainly rara avis in terr& ; but by looking well we
pen*eived at a short distance a young Montugnais Indian, of singular
ibeauty, tall aud straight as an arrow, who, with lolded arms, was contem-
plating the scene before him with a stoical and somewhat scornful look.
we had at last found the man we were in want of.

** Will you take us across, mon brere 1" I said to him.

« The Frenchman always moves, always moves, that not good when
wind blow."

My friend assured him that we were two very steady Frenchmen, well
used to birch canoes, liesides that he would earn a shilling. As a proof of
what he was saying he took up an oar. The Montagnais looked at him
scornfully, snatched the oar rudely from him, and said to us : " Come."
He then made a sign to a young woman, who appeared to us somewhat
unwilling to risk crossing ; m fact she had been looking at us rather ill-
naturedly during the discussion, but at an authoritative sign from her
husband, she took an oar and knell down in the fore part of the canoe.
The Indian made the two Frenchmen sit down in the middle of the boat,
and io spite of our remonstrances seated himself on the edge of the canoe.

We had hardly 'gone a quarter of the way across when I perceived that
he was tipsy. His beautiful black eyes, instead of being brilliant as they
had been when we left, had become quite dull ; and the palor, common to
Indians when in a state of intoxication, spread itself over his countenance.
I acquainted my friend with my discovery so as to be prepared for any
thing that might happen. We agreed that the best plan for iis was to
continue our passage, as even if the Montagnais would consent to turn
back, th<) doing so would expose us to imminent danger. However, we
took the precaution of taking off our shoes.

I can safely say that we flew through the water like sea-gulls ! the
woman clove the waves most skilfully, whilst the husband rowing some-
times on the right side and sometimes on the left, balancing himself so as
to preserve the equilibrium, impelled the light bark canoe with the arm of
a Hercules. Our friends, who seated on the shore at Puinte Levis, saw
our approach without suspecting we were in the boat, told us aAerwards
that tney could often see the whole length of the bottom of (he boat, as if
we had been flying on the top of the waves. O how imprudent is youth \*

Ten years before this adventure, and again then also it was on a Sunday
during the summer season, the town of l|uebec offered a spectacle which
would appear strange enough in these days ; if the truth must be told,

* My childhood's friend, my bosom friend, of whom 1 have above spoken,
was Dr. Pierre de Sales Laterriere, then a medical student ; and brother <k
the ^lonorable Paschal de Sales Laterriere, now member >{ the Legislative
Council. It \a now nearly 26 years since, like many oti. trs on the road of
life, he has left me behiaa.

NOTES TO CHAPTER T.

297

nearly three quarters of a centurjr must have elapsed since then, as at
the time, 1 could not have been more than nine years old.

Towards one o'clock in the afternoon, an immense number of Indians
who had crossed from Puinte Levis began to throng the streets in sufficient
numbers, to cause some uneasiness to the commander of the garrison, who
doubled the nuir ber of soldiers on guard at the city gates and at the
barracks There did not appear to be any thing very terrible in their
aspect, in fact the men had on only their shirts and their beltx, and their
only arms were their tomahawks which they always carry. Some
human scalps fastened to the belts of the old Indians, shewtrd that they hud
taken an active part in the last war between the English and the
Americans.

The Indians that I knew in my youth were real aborigines ; their
savage looks, their faces painted red and white, th-jir bodies all tatooed,
their heads shaven, all except one tuft of hair that the f left to grow on the
top of the head, in order to brave their enemies, their eitrs cut in small strips
like our Canadian eroquecignoles, of which some of the Indians only
possessed a few shreds hanging down on their shoulders, whilst more
fortunate ones hnd preserved them intact, and with a proud air shook the
slit flesh loaded with silver rings, four inches in diameter, that had escaped
during their frequent tipsy brawls ; they were indred, as I have said, real
Indi^-", snd everythmg about them bespoke barbarous and ferocious war-
riors, ready to drink blood out of an enemy's skull or to make him sufler
the most cruel tortures.

I have never found out why they turned out in such numbers on that
Sunday, within the city of Quebec. Had they received their presents the
previous evening ? or was it some holiday peculiar to their nation 1 Any
way, neither before nor since have I ever seen surh a number assembled
together wiihm the walls of the city. One remarkable circumstance was
the absence of their women on that day.

The Indians having traversed the principal streets of the city in groups
of from thirtv to forty warriors, and after having danced in tront of the
houses of the principal citizens, who threw them pieces of money from
the windows, either to reward them for their fine serenade or perhaps to
^et rid of them, finished by assembling on the Upper Town market place,
just as (he people were coming out from vespers at the cathedral. It was
there that 1 saw them to the number of four or five hundred warriors,
singing and dancing that terrible « war dance," so called among all
Indians ol North America.

It was easy to understand their pantomime. At first they appeared to
be holding a council of war ; then after some short harangues from their
warriors, they followed their chief in files, with their tomahawks, imitating
the action of the oar dipping in the water with a measured cadence. For
a long time they went round in a circle, chanting a monotonous foreboding
song; this represented the setting off in canoes for the projected expedition.
The burden of the song, which I still remember, from having so often
sung it while dancing the " war dance " with the other boys in the streets
of Quebec, was as follows, only I cannot vouch for the spelling:
"sahontesi sahontes I sahontes I oniakein ouatchi-chicono-ouatche."

At length, at a signal from their chief, all became silent, and appeared to
be gazing at the horizon, whilst repeatedly scenting the breeze. Accord-
ing to their expression, they had smelt the approach of an enemy. After
having for several minutes crawled about the arena, flat on their stomachs
like snakes, and advancing cautiously, the principal chief uttered a frightful
howl, to which the others answered in chorus, and throwing himself among
the crowd of spectators, brandishing his tomahawk, seized a young stupid
looking man, threw him a'jross his shoulder, re-entered the circle formed by
his companions, stretched the young man on the ground, with his face
downward, and putting his knee on his loins, appeared to be tearing ofi*hir
acalp. Then turning him quickly over, he seemed lo cut open his breast

'^mmmmm

298

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

with his tomahawk, scoop out the hlood with bis band, which he put to
his mouth, as if he wished to drink his full ol' it, all the time uttering savage
howls.

ThoM} spectators who were at a distance, thought Tor a moment that the
scene had renlly beeomn tragic, when all at once, the Indian springing to
his lev t, uiiered a cry uf triumph, waving in the air a real scalp, dyed red,
which he had adroitlyr taken irom his belt ; whilst those nearer tlie scene
of action exclaimed in fitt of laughter :

*' Run, run, Pete, the canaotuu will skin you like an eel next."

Poor Pete did nut wait to be told a second time, he darted amongst the
crowd which opened to let biin pass, ran at full speed along Fabrique
street, amidst the ^houts of the people, who kept calling out, " Hun, Pete,
run !"

The Indians aAer having danced some time, uttering cries uf joy which
seemed tu us like the yells of a number of demons, whomSa'.aii, ii. a fit of

£>od nature, had let loose for that day, finished by dispersini; ; and by dark
e town resumed its wonted ualm ; such of the aoorigijes as were not
too much intoxicated, rtUurned to Pointe Levis, whilst those who had
been overcome in the long fight thoy had kept up with the lum (rum^,
slept peacelully on the lireast of their n.other-earth, in every available
vomer of the Upper and Lower Town of Quebec.

Two years after the scene 1 have just described, I was witness of a bloody
deed which made a painful impression on all Quebec ; the scene was the
same, but the actors instead of being <* red-skins" were " pale-faces."
The hero was David McLane who bad been condemned to death for high
treason.

The government having little confidence in the loyalty which the French
Canadians had proved during the war of 1776, wished to strike terror into
the people, by the preparations for the execution, From the early morning
was heard the noise ol the pieces of aitiliery that were being dragged to the
place of execution outside St. John's jrate ; snd strong detachments of
armed soldie s paraded the streets. It was a parody oo the execution of
the unfortunate Louis 16th, and all to no purpose.

I saw MuLane conducted to the place of execution, he was seated with
his back to the horse on a wood-sleigh whose runnera grated on the bare
ground and stomas. An axe and a biook were on the i'ront part uf the con-
veyance. He looked at the spectators in a calm, confident manner, but
without the lea^t eflrontery. He was a tall and remarkably handsome
man. I heard some women of the lower class exclaim, whilst deploring his
■ad late :

" Ah ! if it were only as in old times, that handsome man would not have
to die ! Thrre would be plenty of girls who would be ready to marry him
in order to save his lile t "

And even several days afier the execution, I beard the same thing i*e-
peated.

This belief then universal among the lower class must, I suppose, have
arisen from the fact that many French prisoners, condemned to the stake
by the savages, had owed their lives to the Indian women who bad then
married them.

The sentence of McLane, however, was not executed in all its barbarity.
I saw nil with my own eyes, a big student named Boudrault, lilted me up from
time to time in hi^ arms, 8<} that I might lose nothing of the horrible butchery.
OU L)r. Duvert was nenr us>, he drew out his watch as soon as Ward, the
hangman, threw down the ladder upon which McLane was stretched on
ius back, with the cord round his nei'^k made last to the beam of the
gallows ; thrown sideways by this abrupt movement the body struck the
northern nost of the gallows, and then remained stationary, with the ex-
ception of some slight oscillations.

« He is quite deul," said Dr. Dovert, when the hangman cut down the
body at the end of about twenty-five minutea ; « he is quite dead, ftnd will

NOTES TO CHAPTER I.

209

■et feel the indifoiities yet to be inflicted on him." Every one was under
the impression that the sentence would be executed in all its ri|ror, and
that the disemboweiletJ victim, still alive, would see his own entraiU burnt i
but no ; the poorunboppy man was really dead whf n Ward cut him open,
look out his bowels and his heart whicli he burnt in a chafing di»h,
•bd out off his head which he showed all bloody to the people.

The spectators who were nearest tt> the seaflold sny that the hangman
fefused to proceed further with the execution after the hanging, alleging
" that be was » hangman, but not a butcher," and it was only after «
good supply ot guineas, that the sheritT succeeded in making him execute
all the seatunce, and that ailer each act of the fearful drama, his demand*
became more and more exorbitant. Certain it is that alter that time Mr.
Ward became quite a grand personage; never walking in the streets
except with silk stockings, a three-rornered hat and a sword at his side.
Two watches, one in his breeches pocket, and the other hanging from his
Beck by a silver chain, completed his toilet.

1 cannot refrain, in parting from this doer of worthy deeds, from relating
• fact which I have never l)een able to account for. When I arrived in
Quebec in order to go to school, at about nine years ol age, people seemed
to regret a certain good hangman named Bob ; he was a negro, whom
ever}' one praised. This Ethiopian ought to have inspired the same horror
which is always felt towards men of his calling ; b^it, on the contrary be
visited at all the houses like the other citizens, enjo>rd a name for unim-
peachable honesty, ran errands, in fact was a universal favorite. As well
as I can remember, there was something very touching in BoIVs history ; he
was a victim of circumstances, which compelled him to become a hangman
in self-defence. He used to shed tears when be had to perform his terrible task.
1 do not know why my memory, generally so tenacioun concerning all I
MW and heard in my early childhood, fails me in the matter of explain-
ing the reason of the universal sympathy extended to Bob.

But I return to McLane. Su:;h a spectacle as 1 have described could not
Ail to make a great impression on a child of my age ; hence it arises that I
have thought a great deal about the fate cf a man, whom many people
looked upon as a victim to the politics of the day. 1 have tried to satisfy
myself as to his greater or less guilt. I could say a great deal on tbe
aiwject ; but I will be silent. Suffice it to say, that if in these days a boast-
ing Ifankee were to proclaim to all comers, that with five hundred able
men, arme<i with sticks hardeneil in the fire, it would be easy to take the
town of Quebec, the young men would crowd round him to humor bin*,
and encourage him to talk, and then giving him lots of champagne to
drink, would laugh heartily at him, without Uie government dreaming of
liaving him hung, drawn and quartered.

It has been said that McLane was an emissary of the French govern-
ment ; I do not myself believe so ; tlus French republic, at war with all the
European powers, had too much work on its hands to concern itself about
a little colony, containing some millions of acres of snow ; to use an ex-
pression not very flattering to us.

Tke policy of our then rulers was crafty and hence cruel. Every where
they thought they discovered emissaries of the French government. There
were two Canadians banished from the country, their crime being that they
had been to Martinique in, I believe, an American vessel, to transact some
commercial business : they granted them the favour of allowing them to
take with them their wives and children.

In the year 1818, at an hotel in Albany, I met with an old man wno came
to pass the evening in a saloon where we were assembled. He had cer-
tainly the look of a Yankee, but though he spoke their language with
esse, I at once detected a French accent ; and as a Frenchman always
hastens to renly to a polite question, (be it said without offence to other
less civilized nations), I at once broached the subject and asked him if
he were French ?

"^imimmm

wmm~-m»

soo

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

« Certainly," be answered ; « and I suppose you are a fellow coantry-
man 7"

" Something like it,'* I replied ; " I am ofFrench origin, and a citisen of
Quebec."

" Ah, Quebec city !" said he, " recalls many sad remembrances to my
mind ! I whs impriHoned within its walls for two vears, and may I be
hung like a dog if 1 know, even now, what crime 1 had oommittra. It
was, it is true, just at the commeneenieiit of the French revolution, the
republic was at war with EnKJand, but having long been a ndturaiised
Amerii-an, i thouaht t might salely visit Canada with my goods. In spite
ofthat however, tncy laid hold of me directly I had cruMed the frontier,
and I was shut up in the RecoUets' Convent, at Quebec, a part of it then
serving as state prison."

" You were," I said to him, " in a good way to do penance in that
sacred asylimi."

" Oh yes !" he replied, " I did a somewhat severe penance. For along
time I wax so closely confined as to be unable to communivnte with any
one, and I should have .siiflered still more had it not been lor the kindness
of some charitable souls who sent me changes of linen and other comforts.*'

" But," said my travelling companion, my friend the late Mr. Aobert
Christie, to him, " you ought to nave availed yourself of your title of
American citizen ?"

" That is the very thing that I did," the old man answered, " 1 produced
my letters of naturalization which were in due form, but all to no purpose.
They detained me as an emissary of the French government. However, I
was hardly likely to be busying myself about the government afl'airs, for
whilst my countrymen were cutting each other's throats just like so many
savages, I was only too glad to live quietly here under the government of
my choice. No matter ; at the expiration of two years of captivity they
showed nne the door, and even carried their politeness so far as to send
a strong escort to reconduct me to the frontier. They might have spared
themselves the trouble, I asked no better than to leave that inhospitable
country, swearing never to set my foot in it again.'*

We invited him to supper ; and he told us several amusing anecdotes
about the diflerent people, and the authorities of Quebec during his deten-
tion , anecdotes that 1 take very good care not to repeat, as he did not
spare any one. To our great surprise he had known every body, and spoke
of the weak points of this one, the follies and vices of that one, seasoning
the whole by rei-iting pretty scandalous stories, of part of which I had been
quite ignorant, but which on enquiry turned out to bo true.

I spoke to him of my family, and he named four of my uncles to me.
He hud a happy way of telling stories, and if he poured down sarcasm
most plentifully on those who had ill-used bim, he spoke with the livehest
gratitude of those by whom he had been well treated.

I was forgetting to say that the first words he uttered when he found out
I was from Quebec, were these :

" Is Mme. LaBadie still living V> t

And then he launched forth into the praise of this good and charitable
woman to whom he was under so many obligations, and large tears
dropped from his eyes.

(b) I have said and done many foolish things in the course of my long
life, but Baron sixty years ago prevented my repeating one that has been
handed down from generation to generation to the present time.

The Pointe Levis ice-bridge had taken during the night, and the ice was
smooth and good, nevertheless the traatmen hr>d crossed with their boats
a^d injured it a little. Baron, who was a very outspoken man, was at the
iiower Town landing place surrounded by a group of men.

" Well, Master Baron," said a citizen, " you see the bridge has taken
in spite of your efforts to prevent it."

NOTES TO CH A PI Ell I.

301

"It is only you townspeople thut art- oimple enough to believe in thnt
piece of folly !" replieil Barun. '■ We ^rt)t>^ tiir ice-bridfre with uur boals,
you fimpietons, beeause we fearllinl when iht- ue is weak 8oiiie aci;ideni
may happen to those of our cusloniers who i annnt wait till the ice m
stronger. ThoKe idioto in the ci'adil firen canon to disperse us when they
see us occupied in the early morninfr ctiitinp: n way to bringdown our
boats or any thing else. We nre gcnfially hut a liandlnl of men ; but you
who are 6o clever, just set to work and vee if with live, ten or even twenty
thousand men, you will be able to cut tliruuuh it."

Baron was right, I have seen hundrolsi ol men working whole dayti to
cut through about half a fi.ilong of ice, to p't out a schooner that bad
been froKen in but one >ght on quite a email river.

CHAPTER III.

(a) I was twenty years of age when I paid a visit to the so-railed witch
of Bitaumont. I was returning from iSt. Jean-1'ort-JoIi to Quelivc, al\er a
short visit to my parents. My father had given me, I suppose for my
■ins, one of his tenants as driver, he was a Imbitant in easy circumstances,
but who was ot least fifteen years in arrear.^ with his rent. My father, and
my grandlather betore him, went on the principle ol never suing their
tenants for rent, they always waited pntiently ! it is a family failing. My
driver was very grateful, it seems, for this leniency ! he was one of those
impudent bragger«, and never-ending cluitter- boxes that one sometimes
meets with in the parishes on the south const and who nearly all are des-
cended from the same stuck. Obliged, though reluctantly, to discharge a
debt which was honestly due to the father, liu took it out amply by indulging
the son with a whole avalanche of coarse sarcasms, and low jokes, nt the
expense of the cures and seignors and gentlemen whom he honored with
the name ol " dos blancs,"* " habits a poche," &:c.

I made up my mind to endure the infliction as patiently as I could; being
under the impression that he only sought a pretext to leave me in the lurch.
On arriving in the parish ol fieauniont, he began talking ol the " mere
Nolette," the wise woman, the sorceress who knew the past, the present,
and the future , confirming what he said by various wonderful stories of
cures, seigniors, «dos blancs," and " habits a poche " that she had Jixed.

At last I told him that men of education had the great advantage over
him of not believing in such lolly, and that she could only haxe Jixed, as he
termed it, simpletons like himself. Then buret from his lips another deluge
of jokes.

" Will you make a bargain with me " I said to him ; '< we will stop at
your sorceress' ; if I prove to you that she is no more ol a sorcerer than
yourself, which is not saying much, will you promise not to speak to me
again during the journey 1 "

" With all my heart," he said to me ; " but take care ; let me tell you
without wanting to hurt your feelings that she has puzzled more cunning
ones than you."

*' Very likely," I said to him, " but we shall see."

The mere Nolette's habitation was a regular sorcerer's den ; it was a
little black, low house, built at the foot of a steep hill, and as destitute of
white- wash both within and without, as it the wood of which it was built,
had been still growing in the lorest. Every thing announced poverty, but
not extreme destitution. We conversed together for a time ; it wouid have
been very remiss in me, according to the habitant's icleas, to have entered

* The injurious epithet of dos blancs (white backs) probably arose from
the powder which the gentlemen wore every day, and which whitened the
collars of their coats.

302

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

inimudintcly on the rt*nl object oC my visit. The Roroerefls seemecl to me
to be a mild, iinpiuleiulinK woman and oven vomewhat simple ; still she
ahoweil :«>iiiiu saguiMty nlterwHitls in canting my horoscope.

" Is that intlet'd the woman," I thoiiffhl to niyt'eir, " the extroonlinory
woman ol whom I Imvc heanl xo mui-li T Is that indeed the sybil whose mar-
vellous predictions H.>^tonished me in my childhood ( U certainly was her, ;
and even now n(ter the lajwe ofsoiiH! torly years *.iiice she pasised Crom life
unto du<uh, hor name is siill as renowned in the country parts on the south
coa.><t, as ii was when ' visited her, hidl'-a-ceniury asco.

At last 1 told her that 1 wished to consult her, us I had heard her spoken
o( H!* a Wi.M) woman.

*• Do you wi-li " >ht! said " to speak with me privately, or in the presence
of your triivelling' comiiauion ? "

•' In his jiresence," 1 replied.

And 1 laiuy i cuii .still isue the insolent and triumphant face of my hobi-
lanl,

The old woman took us into a sort oJ dark closet where she ligiited a
(allo.v-candle that was us yellow assafl'ron, then seated herself near n table
from wheiice she took a pack ot cards which were snlRciently ancient to
have t<erved to while away llie leisure hours of the unhappy (^harles the
Sixth, and which were all pati-hed to^fether with thread that had been for-
merly white, but which now was as black as the cards themselves. A
great black rat, thin and emaciated, adorned with a long sweeping tail,
and coming from I cannot tell where, now made its appearance. After
having taken a walk round looking at us with its tawny, cunning eyes, it
jumped on its mistress' knees.

li was (juite the " nii.se en scene" of a good drama of witchcraft! every
thing wns leiidy for the divination ! my companion looked at me and
winked ; 1 iiiuleislood ; he meant the " hubit d poches" will be sM!

I had taken cure to place myself opposite my friend the habitant, so that
1 could intercept any teiegruphiu signs that might pass between him and
the sorceress.

" What do yon desire to know ?" said the sybil to me.

" It IS now more than a month since [ set out from Halifax ; and I am
very uneasy about my wile and children I "

The old woma-i shiitiled the cards, spread them on the table and said :
" you have gonu through many hardships on your way ? "

" Ah ! yes, gr mny" I said to her ; "one may say one has plenty of hard-
ships when one is reduced to walking oti?n eight leagues a day on snow-
shoes, and when in order to rest at night, o.ne is obliged to dig a hole in the
snow to sleep in ; that does not suit a man vtry well ! "

" Poor gentleman," said the old woman, looking at me compassionately.

Jean Baptiste * began to find the room warm, undid two buttons of his
coat which was too tight about his throat, and fidgetted on his chair.

« But I do not want to know anything about my own hardships," I said
<() her ; '* they are passed ; I think no more about them. Will you please
give me news of my wife and children." The sorceress gathered together
the cards, shuffled them again, spread them on the table and exclaimed
« Oh ! what a pretty creature I "

" She certainly is not ugly," I said bridling up.

My driver who knew that mine was but a pretended marriage, darted
an angry look at me and unbuttoned his coat as fur as his sash, which he
untied. He was tenacious of the sorceress' leputation, and did not like to
see her mystified ; still less did he like to look like a fool himself.

" Yonr wife," the sybil went on " is well, quite well, and has every
thing she wants. She is rather lonesome and is anxiously expecting a
letter from you which she will soon receive."

* A name often given to French Canadians, particularly to habitants.

d.'

Su»i

NOTES TO CHAPTER III.

303

" I am glHj of that," I said, *■ (or 1 wrote to lier aller leaving ' Portage,'
and I was alVaid my letter might have been lu»t."

" Now how are my ehildreii 1 "

8lie looked at all the cards and began to count " one, two," looking at
me uitcnlively.

" All, yi's ; granny " I said to her *• it is two children, a little boy and a
liltif girl."

Kviilcntly relieved she cxctainied :

Oil ! the dear little angels! how merry they ore! still the youngest seems
une.iNy, but it is of no consequence ; it is only sufTermg from its teeth."

" Just so, granny" I said to her.

After having thank her for the good news she had given inc 1 threw her
n piece of silver; lavishness that she Wiis (ar from oxpocting; her uirilF
lieing 3 sons lljr the poor and 6 sous for the rich.

'* Let us go," saiu my i-arter.

" Yes, it is rather warm here," 1 answered in a bantering way.

Once outside, he launched forth an oath, that made one's hair stand on
end, sprang into \\i>* carriole, and to my great satisfaction, kept an obstinate
silence till we cume to the Pointe Levis ferry.

(b) There are said to be two very simple means of exempting '.)ne!<elf
f<"om any evil conseiiuences arising from the trii-ks o( even the wors' intcn-
tloned jack-o'-lanterns. The first consists in asking whatever iii'ercepts
your path: " what day of the month is Christmas day? " Tlic gobiin, who
18 never well up in the in the calendar, does not know whai to reply and
immediately acks his interlocutor the same question. Woe betide tlie
traveller if he only hesitates in replying categorically ! He is a poor devil
verv much to bo pitied if he fulls into the hands of so malevolent a goblin.

t'\)rmerly, the children in the country would not fail to ask which day
was Christmas-day as soon as they began to lisp, (or fear of inectiiiji,
a jnck-o'-lantern. Those who had tiencherous mciiierics asked the same
qtiestion twenty times a day. The second means which was still more
infallible than the first, was to place any two objects whatever, in the Ibrm
of a cross, as the jack-o'-lantern who was always a bad diristian, could
not pass them.

This recalls to my mind an anecdote whic-h was well known when I was
young, borne young men, returning home late Irom spending the evening
out, all at once perceived a jack-o'-lantern which i>suing from a liiile
wood, came straight towards them.

I'hey all immediately made a cross in the middle of the road with all the
little articles they had in their pockets : knives, toLacco ix>uilies, pipes, ici:. ;
the young meu turned back and ran away full speed. However when at
a rcspectlul distance, they turned again and saw the jack-o'-lantern, whi.h,
after havering along time over the articles they had deposited, plunged
again into the wood from which it had sallied forth.

There was then a long discussion among the young men.

" I ask no better than to get home," said Baptiste, "so if Fran<;ois will
just go first."

" No" replied FrnnQois, " you go, Jose, you are oldest."

" l*m not quite such a fool ! " said Jose, " let Tintin (Augustin) set us
the example, and We will follow it.''

These brave fellows would probably Ije still in the same place, if the
Nestor of the party had not piopo.xed the expedient ot all holding each other
by the hand and then advancing like soldiers in the line of battle. This
plan was a'lopted : but, alas ! there were none of the spoils left I the jaik-
o'-lautern had carried them all away I probably some cunning rogue had
been wanting to cut up his tobacco and smoke a pipe at their expense.

804

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

CHAPTER IV.

'■(

(n) Speokins here of La Corriveau is a Rlight anachroniam, as she was
not really liiinK nut in her iron cage till nAer April 15, 1763, as appears from
the sentence of the court-mnrlial, dated on that day. Three years a^er the
cun<|uest of Canada, i.e. in 17U3, an atrocious munler wait committed in the
parish of St. Vnllicr, in the diMrict of Quel)eo, and although n ceiKiiry bn!<
elapsed since the tragic event, the memory of it is still preHervi-d,8urroimde<i
by a nimiber of fantastic tales which gave it all the appearance of a legend.
In Noveml)er, 1749, a woman named Corriveuu married a hnbitant of St.
Vallier. Af^er eleven years of matrimony, the man died in that parish on
thH twenty-seventh of April, 1760. There was a vague run)or ttiat "La
Corriveau " had got rid of her husband by pouring melted lead into his ear
whilst he was a»!eep.

There is no evidence to show that the justice of that day took any steps
to ascertain the truth or falsehood ol the accusation ; and three month? alter
the decease of her first hii!<l>and, Ln Corriveau whs again married on the
2;)th July, l760,toLoniKDodicr, another habitant of St. Vallier. After having
lived together three years, it is related that at the end of the month of Janu-
ary, 1733, La Corriveau took advantage of her husband being in a sound
sleep, and broke his skull, by striking it repeatedly with a hroc, which is a
sort of three- pronge<l pitchfork. To conceal her crime, she draggett the
corpse into the stable nnd placed it at the heels of a horse, so as to'make it
appear that the wounds inflicted with the pitchfork had beien cau!<ed by the
animal kicking. La Corriveau was in consequence, conjointly with her
father, accused of mtirder.

The country being then under militarj' law, the trial took place before a
court-martial. The miserable Corrriveau exercised such influence over her
father, that she persuaded the old man to proclaim himself guilty of the
murder ; on this avowal he was condemned to be hung as is staled in the
following extract ot a military document, the property of the Nearn family,
at Malbaie.

General Order.

Quebec, April lOth, 1763.

The Court-martial, whereof Lt.-Col. Morris was president, having tried
Joseph Corriveau and Marie Josephte Corriveau, Canadians, for the murder
of Louis Dodier, as aUo ls>abelle Sylvain, a Canadian, ibr perjury on the
same trial, the Governor doth ratify and confirm the following sentence :
that Joseph Corriveau having been found guilty of the charge brought
against him, lie is therefore adjudged to be hung for the same.

The Court is likewise of opinion that Marie Josephte Corriveau, bis
dauKhter, and widow of the late Dodier, is guilty ol knowing of the said
murder, and doth therefore adjudge her to receive sixty lashes with a cat-o'-
nine tails, on her bare back, at three diflerent places, viz : under the gallows,
upon the market place of Quebec, and in the parish of St. Vallier; twenty
iashes at each place, and to be branded in the lefl hand with the letter M.

The Court doth also adjudge Isabelle Sylvain to receive sixty lashes, with
a cat-o'-nine tails, on her bare back, in the same manner, and at the same
time and places as Mane Josephte Corriveau, and to be brandsri in the left
hanti with the letter P.

Fortunately the.se sentences were not carried out, und this is how the
true state of the case became known. The unfortunate Corriveau having
made up his mind to die for his daughter, sent for Father Glapier, then Su-
perior of the Jesuits at Quebec, to prepare him lor death. After his confes-
sion, the condemned man re(|uested an interview with the authorities. He
then said he could not conscientiously accept death under the circumstances,
since be was not guilty of the murder imputed to him. He then gave the

NOTES TO CHAPTER IV.

SOS

aiithoritieo inenns to Rrrive at the tnith and to exonerate laabclle Sylvain ot'
tin: .Hiipixxitfd crime ol' perjury, of which »he was innocent. After the uauat
pnu'eedi litre ihi- tollovvinjf Ordor ciime out ;

Cicriortil OixUir.

Qiielwr, April 15, 1763.

The <'oiir1 -martial, wheri'ot" Lt.-Col. Mori in wai» proxident, Ik dinsolved.
The (feiieril Coiirt-rnaitinl hnviiii? trietl Marie Jo.sephte (^orriveau, for the
iiiiirdcr ul licr liunbaiid, Dodior, the Court (indinu' lier iruilly, the Oovcmor
(Miirrny) d>>ih rntily iiiul confirm the following »H-ntenee: that Marie
Joft'phie Corriveiiu do jtufler death for the MHuie, and her body to l)e hung
in ehaitiA wherever the (rovernor »hall think lit.

(Signed,) Thomas Mii.t-s, Town Major.

Con(«irmnl)ly to the nentence, Marie JoNephle C'urriveau was hung near
(he pluins of Abraham, nt the place called ''le« Bultes" at Nepveu, formerly
the usual place of execution. Her t)ody whm put in an iron caq;e, and thi.^
cnge .«>nKpcn(l<-d on a .^take ut the cross- roadw in Point Levi.t, near the place
«vhere the Temperance Monument now stnnd.t, nUiut twelve arpents to
the west of the ( hurch. ar.d one arpent from the road.

The inhabitants of Point Levi<» not much liking: thii) !<pt;ctacle, asked of
the Rullioriii<;H to have it taken away, rn ihu Might of the cage and the
rumored noctiirnQl noisest and apparitions frightened the women and children.
As nothing was done, some courageous young men went during the night,
and takin;; down La Corriveau and her cage, deposited them in the ground
at the end of the cemetery, outside the enclosure.

This mysterious disappearance and the tales told by those who, during
the night, had heard the grriting o( the iron hooks, and the rattling of the
l>ones, made La Corriveau pass int<» the regions of the supernatural. After
the burning of Point Levis church in 1H30, they enlarge<i the cemetery, and
this was how the cage was within the enclosure wlien it was found by
the cravc-diggcr in ISoO. The cage, which then only contained the boni»
of one leg, was made of strong iron l)ars. It was in the form of a human.
Iicing, hnvin? legs and arms, with a round box f<3r the head, it was ia
good pieservntion, and was deposited in the sacristy cellar. This cage wa»
si'creily taken away some little time afterwards and shown at Quebec as a
curiosity. It was afterwards sold to Barnum's Museum, where it may still
bo seen.

CHAPTER V.

eft

(a) An islet, of which some remains are still left, but nearer lo the saw
mill, crowned the summit of the St. Thomas falls, when I was a child. At
low water, it could Ins approached either along the <-an»eway of the milt
itself, or by crossing the mill-dam in a boat. During the frequent visits
which iny family paid to the Seignior Jean Baptistc Couiilard, his son and
I made frequent excursions to the islet, where we had made a little hut
with branches of the cedar and fir that grew on it, notwithstanding the
damage caused by the spring li^shets.

One day my young friend asked his father to give up to him this little
domain of which he had already taken possession.

«' Willinsly " said his father who was a learned and slightly pedantic
man, what the French term a " savant en us," " but what name will you
give it > think a little, and choose one yourself."

And he began to name all the islands known to the ancient Greeks and
Romans, and the boy kept on saying.

" No ! No ! for the last hour 1 have been screaming myself hoarse in
calling out to yon that I will cell it < little Couillard's iaiet.' **

■fmM

80ft

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

They pnf it to the vote ; and every }m>i^ wm on the cktid'* sitle in spite
ofhis latlier'» protestations against uot givinz it a scientific- nanie.

Every one, in the afiernooii, went to " liitTe CouiUard'S islet " vrbere an<
excellent collation awaited them, and my young Iricnd took possvMion ot
his domain.

Oh! oftiest and mosi faithful of ail my friends t alter an unclouded
friendship of halt- H-centiu'y'ii thiratioB, youiaavekfl nie ift lhi» world of
sorrow, in order yourself to inhabit the place of rest. For you also, the
worthiest of nil the men I have ever known, you also drank of the bitter ciii>
of sorrow I you saw >oar ancestor's domain pass into the hands of strangers !:
and when you descended to the i ."^^^ out of all your vast po8ses»iens and
even of the islet you loved so well in your childhood, you only carried
nway the handful of earth, whick the grave digget and your tiends threw
upoD your coffin I

CHAPTER Vr.

(a) Several people have asked me if the charaeter ef the eld> paster was
not lakea from that of the old cure ot t he parish of St. Thomas who, also, bad
baptised and married ail his parishioners, and had buried three generations
of them. It was be indeed that I bad in my mind's eye while writing
'< the breaking-up of tbe ice." From mv childhood until his own death, I
had been well acquaint«Hi with the worthy monsieur Venault. He was
an indefatigal)ly zealous priest, as indulgent towards others as he was strict
towimls^ himselC He Lked society, and wheu enjoying it laid aside the
strictness necessary ibr a minitter of the altar when engaged in bis holy
functions. In society he was a gay and agreeable eld gentleman, eagerly
enjoying the pleasure of conversation.

Oa one eceasion, during a supper at tbe house of the seignior, the holy
man's equanmiity was put toa severe trial ; I have already said in a preoed-
ing note, ibai the seignior Couillard, the father of my friend Doctor Couillard^
so well and favorably known in toe Quebec district, was a " savant en tu,"
he spoke the Latin, English, and German languages with as much facility as-
his own. His memory was so extraordinary, that he would doubtless have
become a distinguished linguist bad be been in Europe where he wouki
have had the epportnnityofatudyiiigtliekJioms of several foreign Counlriea.
A regiment ot trerman troops being stationed at St. Tbotnas, Monsieur
Couillard made the acquaintance of the otBcers, and at the end of three
months spoke German as welt as they did. But great was his despair, after
the departure of his new friends, at not having any one witb whom he
could converse in the language that be liked so much.

The very day of tbe supper of which I spoke just new, be learnt that »
German doctor who had arrived the previous evening, was going to take
up his abode in tlui village of St. Thomas. This was a great piece of good
fortune for him ! He recalled the many pleasant hours ne had spent a few
yeais ]^evinusly in the society of Dr. Oliva, who was married to his first-
couiw) and was equally distinguished in his profession and in his literary
attainments; of course all German doctors must pretty cbselv resemble
one another. He at once called on the stranger who received him most
politely. For two hours they conversed in German enough to dislocate
their jaws ; and Monsieur Couillard ended by inviting tbe other to supper
that very evening.

Tkey were just sitting down to table, when the new doctor arrived haif
seas over, which means half drunk. I verily believe.that tbe unhappy mao
tuuionly lenrnt in studying the French language all the oaths that are in use
among the Canadian rabble and these oaths be retailed with pitiless une-
tioa. The poor priest who was seated between my mother and the lady of
tbe bouse, wh<.> was at the head of the tablei exclaimed every moment :.

NOTES TO CHAPTER VI.

807

use
oT

** Dites-donc ua peu! (this was a favorite expression with him) just
think for a moment, ladies, how much God must be sinned against by such
a man as that ! "

Every body was in a state of consternation : Madame Couillard cast any-
thing biit amicable glances at her learned spouve ; probably her glanues
meant " where can you have fished up that extraordinary animal I " Mr.
Couillard did all he could to carry on the conversation entirely in German,
but if the holy cure's ears were spared, the devil was by no means the los^ r,
for the doctor swore still more terrifically ire his native tongue, at least,
if one might form an opinion from the face of his interlocutor who was a
very pious man.

The seignior Couillard ended at last, where he ought to have begun ; he
whimpered to one of his servants and a few minutes afterwa.xls a carriage
was heard to stop at the door of the manor-house. A farm servant entered
in a great hurry, saying that the doctor was sent for to a woman, who was
dying. The farewells of this Esculapius were extremely touching ; he was
by this time completely drunk, and with tears in his eyes, shook his generous
amphytrion's hand for at least five minutes, without being able to tear him-
self away.

When this unlucky guest was gone the venerable priest very much
relieved, exclaimed :

'< Just think for a moment, my friends, howCKxl must have been oilended
by that man." He then resumed his ordinary good humor leaving the
sehlinderlitche to his fate.

I need hardly say, that from that day forward all relations between the
doctor and good society ceased entirely, for the short time he lived io the
parish.

I will i'ldulge in relating another anecdote, so much do I like to speak of
my oM friends. My father, knowing that his friend the same monsieur
Couillard, had arrived at Quebec, at once went to the hotel where he was
Mayin? in order to pay him a visit, and asked a Ckrman servant to shew him
to the room which the Canadian gentleman occupied.

" I know no Canadian gentleman," said the servant, " there are three
English gentlemen here and one German, who is a fine tall fair-complexioned
man, with large blue eyes, and plenty of color in his face."

This was just the description of the seignior, and my father knowing that
his friend spoke German, thought that the servant must have mistaken him
for a fellow countryman, he therefore told him that that was the gentleman
he wished to see, but that he was a Canadian.

" He himself says he is German," said the 8er\'ant, " he Sjpeaks our
language better than I do. He spoke to me of Germany and of Frederick
the Great who often gave me a flogging when I was a soldier."

My father hearing some one lauithing at the top of the staircase looked
np and perceived his friend, who called out to him to come up to his room.

•* What possessed you," said my father, "to pass yoursefrofT, here, for
a German T "

*< It is not my doings," said monsieur Couillard pointing to the servant,
" he would have it that I was a fellow-countryman and I played my part
grandly, and I can assure you I am all the better ofl'for so doing ; he is all
attention to me."

Poor monsieur Couillard ! ray father's friend from childhood, as his son
was mine, 1 closed his eyes, mly-six years ago in the street of Quebec
which bears his name !

On his return from Montreal, he fell sick at a boarding house, and could
not be removed to his own home. Like father, like son ; they are the two
best men that I have ever known.

Monseigneur Hessis, his old school fellow, often came to see him during
his illness ; and their long conversations were always carried on in Latin, •
language that both were fond of.

I cannot pasa over in ailence the following fact, which we couM never

20*

••wmm

808

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

acoount for. I had oflen, during monsieur Couillard's illness, sat up nt nif^ht
wiih him, in company with his son ; the niirht that he died I was also there
with his son and the late .VJr. Kobert Christie, our friend. When the dyin^
man was in hi^ agony, I ran for his confessor, Monsieur Dout-et, then cure
of Quebec ; he himself opened the presbytery door, saying :

« I am sorry to have kept you waiting."

*' But 1 have only this moment arrived," I replied.

" My servant, however, came and awoke me a quarter of an hour ago,
t«Uin'.^ me to make haste, as monsieur Couillard was dying."

\Vas it an hallucination caused by the uneasiness felt by the priest nbout
the alarming stale of a sick person that he was much attached to? Was it
the an$;el of death who stopped making his nocturnal rounds, stiiyed his
flight by ihe bedside of the zealous servant of the Most High, in order to
send the dying man the last consolation that he implored I His sod mi^ision
was hardly delayed, (or as the priest pronounced the sublime words «* Go
forth, oh Christian Soul, in the name of Almighty God who created thee,"
that noble soul soared to Heaven on the wings of Jehovah's messenger !

^1») This note may perhaps be of use to several people in certain critical
circumstances.

1 may safely say that sixty years ago, the whole male population of
Quebec, with veryr lew exceptions, knew how to swim. During the fine
season when the tide was high of an evening, the shores would he covered
with bathers from the Queen's wharf (now the Napoleon wharf) as far as
the whanres recently budt on the river St. Charles, at the eastern extremity
of the Palais. As lor us children, we used to pass a great part of the day
in the water, like little ducks. Besides in those days, the art of natation,
was a good deal simplified ; here is my first and last lesson in it.

1 was nearly nine years old, and was already beginning to dabble about
at the edge of the water imitating the frogs, but v.ithout nttaining any
remarkable result. The reason was simple enough ; there was not suffi-
cient body of water to make me float.

One day I was coming out of school at four o'clock in the afternoon,
when in Fabrique street I heard a young rascal screaming out "cook!
cook 1 " till he was hoarse. It was a gathering cry the origin of which, it
is hard to trace ; a serious loss, I must acknowledge, for this present gene-
ration. If I may be allowed however to express an opinion or. so impor-
tant a matter, I should say that the cry came from a game which had been
introduced among us by the English children, and which was as follows :
one of us, who had been elected king by acclamation, would, on a fine
summer evening, scat himself majestically, we will say, on the steps of the
church of the Recollets, which is now replaced by the Law Courts ; and
thence he would send his subjects to such posts as he selected nt the corners
of the adjacent streets, but unlike the potentates of all the other countries
in the world, he generally was equitable enough to send the biggest to the
greatest distance. Perhaps there was favoritism sometimes, but what
sovereign or even what constitutional government can boa»t of being per-
fectly free from it ?

Every one being stationed nt his allotted post, the king would call out
with the whole power of his lungs " A tanta I a tanta I betri cook ! " and
each one would run as fast as he could, the last arrived being liable to a
somewhat arbitrary forfeit.

I suppose the reader will be hardly any wiser than he was before this
explanation ; I will come to his assistance. At that time very few French
Canadians spoke English and those who attempted it massacred the Queen's
English frightfully, whilst the few English cnddren that there were spoke
French as well, or as badly, as we did. I can not help thinking that what
we called " betri cook " nmst have been " Pastry-cook," an artist who
hM always been highly esteemed by boys of that age. Aa for the two

NOTES TO CHAPTER VI.

ao9

words " n tanta," perhaps it was our way of pronouncing •* attend all," it
WB8t just like us.

But let us return to our story. I ' .id hardly joined my l>efbre mentioned
friend, when nnoiher little rascal, who was bowlinar the hoop of a barrel
whii h was as high aa himself and of which he had adorned the interior with
all the pietvs of tin that he could nail to it responded to the appeal by also
cryingf out '• cook ! cook !" A third then came running along also rattling
two immense beef bones, a sort of castanets that was by no means expen-
sive, and very much the fa^^hio^ among these gentlemen. Thin last buwled
out " Route billot, la moelle et les os," which was another rallying cry.
How could I tear m'self away from such distinguished company? I was
a little confus^'d inde d and even ashamed of not Ming able to take part in
this charming wl •' t ! In the first place I had no musical instrument, an4
J had not even acquired that sharp, piercing cry peculiar to the town street-
boys, and so ditlicult to be acquired by a little rustic only just arrived
amongst them. But these gentlemen, indulgent towards me on account of
the coppers they got out of me, did not scruple to admit me to their delightAil
society.

Unlortunately for myself, I had then full liberty, as I was boarding with
strangers ; my fdtber and mother were living m the country, and m my
escoipades, I carulully avoided such of my relations as wen? living ia
Quebec. Thus^at the end of two years i was a proficient in the arts of
playing marbles, and peg-top, &c. " La raarraine," alas I was the only
game at which I shewed my inleriority. One had to talie off one's shoes
in order whilst Imlancing on one foot to push along a stone through a cer-
tain number of circles which were drawn on the ground ; and these gentle-
men, boih those who oflen went bare-foot, and those who took off their
shoes expressly, had a great advantage over me, as they could make use of
their toes fur this purpose with as much dexterity as so many nionkies.
Certain aristocratic habits, which I had contra(;ted at home, prevented my
taking off mv shoes in the streets ! this was being far loo proud !

I had therefore made much progress in blackguardism, but very little in
my studies, when my father, who did not duly appreciate my great and
varied talents, made me all safe (as he expiessed it when he was in a bad
humor) hy placing me as a boarder at the Quebec Seminary. I cannot
deny thai it was mu<h better for me, but assuredly our good city lost one of
its most accomplished little blackguards.

But let IIS rfiiurn to my precious companions ; for, at the rate I ana going
on, my story will last for ever, and have neither beginning nor end.

" What ^hall we do ? " said " roule billot" chattering his castanets.

"Go and bathe," replied the leader of the gang.

Thereupon we ran down Hope Hill ; and soon arrived on the shore oppo-
site Sault-au-Matelot street ; the tide was high and bathed the summit of a
rock that was seven or eight leet high. In a moment my three friends
Wf re disporting themselves like dolphins in the cool waters of the St.
Lawrence, whilst I remained sad, pensive and desolate, like the daughter
of the sun after Ulysses* departure.

" Are you not going to bathe 1 " the young dolphins called out to me.

" I do not know how to swim I " I replied in a doleful voice.

" No matter," .«aid the bead bov, for whom I had a great admiration,
" just jump into the water, stupid 1 do like the Irogs, and if you are dro\(rn-
ing, we will save you ! "

How could I reluse so generous an offer " if you are drowning, we will
save you ;" for a minute or two I stood irresolute ; my heart was beating
fast : I had an abyss at my feet ! shame won the victory, and I sprang into
tlie water. To my great surprise, I immediately swam wth as much faci-
lity as the other did. At first I did not p^o far, like a little bird, which on
first leaving the nest, makes trial of its wings ; and I again got on my rock.
Ah ! how my heart beat ! but this time it was with joy ! How prouu I ftltl
I had conquered a fresh element ! my friends had swam to some distance

SIO

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

oil ; for a time I enjoyed my victory, then, again springing into the water,
I soon joined them in the deep water. I only wanted muscular force to b«
able to swim across the St. Lawrence.

J do not advise any one to follow my example, unless there are skilful
swimmers present. I should certainly have been drowned but lor my lucky
star : what else could be expected indeed from a child of my age 1 it is pro-
bable too that the town of Quebec would have had one or two other
of her more turbulent rascals to deplore.

The art of awimming is never forgotten : why ? because it entirely depends
on one's confid'^ nee in one's own powers, for it is a very simple matter : any
one can swim if he can only keep his presence of mind, and feel sure that he
can do so. The first iir /uise of a person who falls into the water acciden-
tally, is, upon rising to the surface, to throw l«ck his head so as to get his
breath, and this infallibly makes him sink. If on the contrary he keeps
only his chin above water, and imitates the movements of a frog, or rather
strikes ihe water alternalely with his feet and hands like the quadrupeds, he
will at once be able to swim.

At the time of the accident to the steamer « Montreal" which was burnt
six years ago, opposite to Cap Rouge, and when so many unfortunate
people lost their lives, if, keeping their presence ol mind, these poorcreatures
bad taken oflf their clothes, and fearlessly sprung into the river, feet foremost
(for it is very dangerous to strike the water with the chest, even without

Siringing from a great height, the blow being nearly as violent as that of a
ank) if, I say, these people had adopted the plan I have just mentioned,
twenty-five out of thirty of those who were drowned would have succeeded
in saving their lives.

It is very dangerous, even for an expert swimmer to attempt to save a
drowning person, unless they take great precautions. I myself once ex-
perienced tnis ; I was one day walking on the banks of the St. Charles, near
the old iX>n*he8ter bridge, with my young brother, who was fifteen years
old; I myself was twenty, it was a very hot day in the month of July^
and we thought we should like to bathe : the tide was low, but a long,
deep trench, near the arches of the bridge remedied this inconvenience as
regarded myself, and I at once availed myself of it. My brother, who had
been brought up in the country, did not know how to swim, but yet would
have Uked to enjoy the coolness of the water in which I was playing about
like a porpoi^.

I was imprudent enough to give him only these instructions :

" Do not be afraid, come with me, just place your hand on my right
shoulder, swim with the other one and your leet, as you see me do ; and
all will be well."

For a few minutes indeed all wns well, but at last sinking deeper in the
water, he was seized with sudden fear ; and he caught me round the neck
with both his arms pressing his chest against mine. Still I did nut lose my
presence of mind at this critical juncture, when my powers of swimming
were so thoroughly paralysed ; 1 made desperate erforts to get to land ; in
vain. I his whole weight hp iging from my 'Aeck, was every moment drag-
ging me to the bottom of the ditch. Beside:*, I was necessarily obliged to
strike the bottom forcibly with my two feet so as to rise to the surface to
breathe, and this made me lose so much time that I hardly advanced ot all.
I then determined to remain under water, and helping myself along with
both feet and hands, try, by means of laying hold of the rushes and stones,
to get out of that teriible ditch. I got on a little taster ; the seconds were
appearing ages to me, when 1 heara a noise on the shore : by a powerful
enort I raised my head above the water and distinguished a voice, saying :
** lay hold of the pole " : I caught hold of it anyhow, and our deliveier drew
us both on shore. He proved to be a young man, who, being at work on
the other side of the river, would have come to our assistance at first, had
had he not thought that we both knew how to swim, and were only amu-

Hkr

NOTES TO CHAPTER VI.

811

•iny oanelvM in the river. My brother threw up a good deal of water ; as
for me, I bad not swallowed a single iirop.

I was often nearly drowned throuf h my own imprvdenee, but this was
die greatest danger 1 wras eve. in.

l^e proTv-rb "beau nageur, beau noyeur" (he who swims well,
'drowns well) is true in many respects ; we were all of us at that time
foolhardy to a decree which I now shudder at. If one of us said: «you
«annot swim as lar as that vessel which is at anchor in the roads ;'* nothing
would prevent the others accepting the challenge: neither adverse tide or
wind, or even a storm. It nmst not be thou^t however that the art of
swimmingshouM be neglected. Here is one instance out of a thousand ;

When a child, I was rowing in « very small boat on the river St. Law-
rence, in company with one of my little iViends; in inadvertently Ivaning
over the edge of the frail bark, we caused it to capsize. Thrown back«
wards, we made a somerset which procured us the pleasure of making ttie
acquaintance of some ish, two or three fathoms down, befiire we recovered
our equilibriun and rose to the surface ; but instead of bdng the least dis-
concerted, we only looked on it as an addition to our enjoyment. Our first
impulse was to laagh heartHy as we swam towards our boat, and after our
hats, which the tide was carrying away. On mature deliberation we agreed
on making a bundle ofourclothft, i.e. : jackets, shoes, and hats; and by
means of our shoe strings fasten them to the keel of the little boat, now
transformed into a donkey's back with its saddle all ready. The tide being
in our favor, we succeeded in towing the boat to land. We certainly, made
very little progress, and even that took us a long time, but we had a place
of refuge, by laying hold of the boat when we felt tired.

This is a striking example of the utility of knowing how to swim ; what
was only an airuding adventure to us would probably have been a fatal
accident to others, under similar oircumstanees, had they not known how to
swim.

(c) Although a friend of progress, I must acknowledge that there was a
great and even poetic charm, to young people, in the primitive manner
in whiuh rivers were crossed, sixty years ago. There were then no bridges
over the Meres River, the two nvera opposite the village of St. Thomas,
Rur the Ouelle River. As for the latter, as I used always to cross it in •
ferry boat, with a horse and carriage I can well remember it. It certainly
bad its own delights ; the cable would sometimes break during a storm, or
from the strength and rapidity of the stream ; and if perchance the tide was
running down at the time, the ferry-boat and its load ran great risk of taking
a little trip on the St. Lawrence. I heard of an accident of this sort, when
several people nearly lust their lives.

The first three rivers used to be forded at low water, the carriage tottering
along like a child walking over oyster shells barefoot ; but this was delight-
ful to young people who were past>ionately fond of dancing. Sometimes,
serious accidents occurred ; but then is not life always strewn wiih briars
and thorns 1

I once saw my father and mother upset in crossing the arm of the St
Thomas ; but of course it was not the river's fault My father was driving
• iMir of horses which were rather wild : the reins caught in some part or
other of the harness, oneof the wheels ran on to an enormous slone, and
they had to make a somerset inio the water, which though dear and not
very deep, was closely pavol with large pebbles. As at that time, this was
the only means of crossma; the arm I never heard that my father bore it any
will ; he always laid the blame on the reiiis which be was holding. But the
most delightful thing of all, was to cross these rivers when the water
was too deep to ford them.

A traveller and^is family would arrive at the village of St. Thomas in a
caleche. Metivier, who was the only ferryman, lived on i he other side of the
river, and would not always be in the best of humors ; I must however do

812

THE OANADUNS OP OLD.

him the justice to say, that aAer many signals, and the applicant screamina
himself hoarse, the boatman would nt last give signs of life by putting oi
from the opposite shore in a species ot cockle-i>heU which he called a boat.
The first dimculty would be getting the calcehe across, as it would be far
too large to be got into the boat ; still, Melivier, alter inveigLing against all
travellers in general who made use oi'siich inordinately large carriages, and
his unlucky customer in particular, would end by putting the carriage across
the top ot the boat, the whecW dragging in tl:i3 water on each »ide. It waa
in vain that he would prote^t there was no danger in croNsingwith so plea>
sant a companion, and that provided one knew how to keep one's balance,
no one ran any risk by so doing ; and this we would decline on the pretext
that the river was rapid and that one could hear the noise i»'the fall roaring
like a bull, some little distance from the landing place. As nol>ody would
wish to serve as live ballast, Meiivier,'*!' a'\er having sent all timorous
people to the devil would throw a few stones into the bottom of the boat i
and like the acrobat Blondin, he knew so well how to preseve his equili-
brium that in spiie of ihe oscillations of the caleche, he would with salety
cross, if not the Niagara, at any rate the South river.

And then the horse I Ah! the horse would be quite anotlier affiiir. He
would look uneasily at every thing and snort, whilst he was being held bjr
the bridle, the only part of his harness remaining on him. As he would nol
care for plunging into the water, a fight would ensue between the animal
and the men, who, by means of whipping, were trying to make him crosa
the river alone ; but, as he would get the worst of it, he would end by giving
way, and plunging into the water no doubt determined in his own mind
to take liis revenge on the other shore where they were watithing fur him.
For this reason he would alvrays take good care not to land were his ene-
mies were awaiting him.

Oh ! how heartily I would laugh, when I would see the noble animal,
free irom all restraint, jump the fences, and run about the fields and meadows
whilst his enemies were perspiring profusely in trying to catch him.

1 SB ' above that I was a friend to progress; I retract it however. Civili-
sation has annihilated poetry ; the traveller has now no more redoutable
feat to perform than to pass over bridge as solid as a rock, seated comfor-
tably in a carriage ! I therefore owe monsieur Kiverin a grudge, as in about
the year year 1800, he was the fire;t to deprive the traveller of the pleasure
of crossing the Des Meres river in the former delightful manner. I have also
some trouble in'forgiving monsieur Frechette, who, in 1813, built the splendid
bridge over the South hiver, of which Montinagny is so proud. 1 think
too, that I bear no good-will to the seignior of Kiver Quelle, for having
built a handsome bridge over the river of that name. It was so delightful
tosing while hauling the rope of the ferryhoat, after having been nearly
upset out of the carriole in getting on it. It has been already said that these
gentlemen were benefactors to their country ! Beaela':tors they rnay have
been, but certainly not poets.

(d) One fine night in the month of June, in the year 1811,1 was goings
down to Kamouraska on circuit. My driver was a habitant of f^t. Jean-
Port-Joli, named Des'osiers, a man who was not only naturally a devcp
right-minded man, bui also a very witty one. I made him sit beside me,
though at first he excused himseK from so doing : my father and mother had
accustomed me from my childhood, to treat our respectable habitants with

* May the earth lay light which covers the remains of the brave and
honest Metivier! and may his manes forgive me for having evoked his
memory ! If ine ungrateful traveller has forgotten him, it is a pleasure to m»
to make hmi live again in this note ; he has made the shadot. on the dial ot
my life recede some sixty otkl years. It is but niomeniary, it is true, hut
what a precious moment for un old maa is that which recalls some of tho
happy hours of youth.

NOTES TO CHAPTER VI.

313

great eoasideration, I never found that so doinj? made us less respected by
those estimable people ; quite tlie contrary in (hoi !

After having exhausted several subjects, we spoke oC ghosts, in whom
Desrv^siers firmly believed, with some si)ow of reason, founded on an adven-
ture which he related to me.

« One evening, 1 met one of my friends, who had iusi got back from a
long journey. It was near a garden where a Canadian rebel had been
interred, the parish prie.st having refused Mm Christ iaii burial.* It was along
time since we had seen one another, and we srtt down on the grasps to hrtve
a chat. In the course of conversation 1 told him thai Bernuchon Bois was
dead.

" Did he die," said he, "with that large pipe in his mouth, which he u.«ed
to ornament with all the red and green cock's feathers h.- could collect?'^

« Yes >j I replied, "I think he only relinquished it when breathing hi?
last sigh."

And thereupon we bewn an endless lot of jokes.

" you know, sir," added Dcsrosiers, " thai habitants always smoke short
clays J they are handier when working, but the detunct IJernuihon was a
proud sort of a man, carried his head very high ; nnd he was constantly,
even on work-days, smoking a long pipe ; he had another one, fijr Sundays,
ornamented in the way myfriend had been describing. The young fellows
all laughed at him for it, but he would not give way. All these jokt- s were
Well enough during his life-time, but we ought not have made merry at his
expense, when he was resting quietly in his coffin within ten feel of us.
The dc^d are very touchy, and always find means to pay us out, one loses
nothing by wailing ; as for nie, I did noi have to wail long, as you will see.

It was m the month of July, and suflbcnlingly hot ; nil at once the weather
clouded over, .^o that in a few minutes it was as dark a* at the oulloni of a
saucepan. Lightning playing towards the ;<ouili announced an approach-
ing storm, and my Iriend and 1 parted alter having laughed heartily about
Bernuchon and his long pipe.

I was nearly three quarters of a league from my own hou.se; and the
further I went the more uncomfortable I felt, at having laughed at a defunct
feIIow-<'hristian .... Boom ! boom ! came a thunder-clap ; my pace l)egnn
to slacken ; 1 had some great weight on my shotilders. I did my utmost to
hasten on, and thinking all the lime o( the defimct, begged his pardon for
having laughed at him. Cri!cra!cra! a frightful thunder clap, and im-
mediately I fell an enormous weight on my back, and a cold cheek pressed
close against mine ; I could hardly totter along.

" It was not, however," added Dcsrosiers, " the weight of his Iwdy that
distressed me the most ; even in his lifetime he had been a puny little man,

* Formerly, along ihe south coast, many of these graves were to be seen,
They were those ol a certain number ol Canadian rebels who during the
'^rar'of 1773 had taken part with the An)eri(!ans ; and to whom their cures
had been reluctantly obliged to rcfu-ne Christian burial, on account of their
persistance in not choosing to recognise their error. These unhappy people
having learnt that the French were figliling fi)r the cause of the mdcpen-
dence, imagined, at the time of the invasion of 177.i, that by takmg part
".vith the Americans they would soon see the Fren<'h returnittg to Canada
Ijehind ihem. The conquest was still fiesh in their memory, and the gov-
ernment persecutions had contributed in no small degree io .stirring up the
inveterate haired of the Canadians for the En^li^h. It was therefore quite
natural that the unfortunate vanquished should turn ihcir sorrowmg looks
towards ihe old mother-country, whence they were always hoping to see
" their own people" coming back. It is related that one of the rel)el8
being on his death-bed, the cure came to exhort him to acknowledge his
fauk. Thedving man half raised himself, and lnoking at him scornfully
said " You savor of the Englishman ! " Then turning towards the wall b<B
expired.

314

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

and without boasting I was able to have carried four like him, and beaidet
he must have shrivelled up a guodish deal during the three years that he
had been under the ground. It was not his weight therefore that distressed
me the most, but .... Now sir, you must please to excuse me, if I am
obliged to swear ; I know that it is not good manners before you." « Do as
you feel inclined, my dear Desrosiers," I said to him ; " you tell the story ao
well, that 1 would rather see yon sufler a few months in purgatory, tnaa
suppress the very smallest particular of your mteresting adventure."

" By your kind permission, then, my lord," he replied quite proud of my
enconium.

Desrosiers was playing the courtier, 1 was then only seignior in persp«c«
five. If I had asked him what time it was, he would probably have an-
swered : whatever time pleasies your lordship, as some courtier, or other
i'epiied to Louis the Fourteenth with unparalleled flattery.

Desrosiers, therefore, being free from all restraint, thank to the per-
mission my twenty- five years accorded him, went on with his story in the
same terms,

" It was not his weight, therefore, which bothered me the most, but it
was his d .... d pipe which kept constantly striking me across the jaw."

" Certainly," said I to him, «' a bishop himself might excuse you that
oath, I think."

And just then I was overpowered by such a paroxysm of laughter that
I could not stop myself. It was the hearty laugh of youth, while the heart
is as light as the air we breathe. My companion did not share in my
hilarity, but on the contrary seemed much displeased at it.

I then tried to joke with him saying that most probably it was a beggar,
who not having enough money to pay for a conveyance, had mounted on
his shoulders in order to travel more at his ease. And again I laughed
heartily .

At length, seeing that he was getting out of temper with me, I tried to
make him understand that wi>at had happened to him was nothing more
than was easily to Itc accounted for : that his earliest impressions, his fixed
belief that the dead always revenge themselves on those thnt laugh at them,
the heavy state of the atmosphere, the thunder-clap which had most likely
completely electrified him, had all combined to produceasort of night-mare ;
and that when fear took possession of a man, hu did not listen to reason
any more than would a frightened horse, who rushing madly on, dashes his
head ai;ainst a wall.

" There is a good deal of truth in what you say, sir," said Desrosiers,
" and I can well remember when a child waking up in a fright ; I was in
my mother's arms, and she was trying to quiet me, but 1 still thought I saw
our large red ox trying to run at me, and went on crying for a long time
for I still thought I saw him threatening me."

" I know that educated people do not believe in ghosts," he added, " of
course they ought to know l>etter than poor ignorant people like us and
indeed I think the whole thing must have been caused by my f.ightened
imagination. However that may be ; I was a little more at ease when I
found myself once more in my own house, but I was not entirely quit of
Bernuchon and his 1 was just going to swear again."

" Do not stand on ceremony, I beg of you," 1 said to him, "you really
swear so appropriately that I think your story would lose half^ its point
without ii."

" No, no," jaid Desrosiers, " you can afford to take things coolly, with
your few months of purgatory which cannot harm you much. 1 quite
understand now that ' everybody lor themselves ' is the best maxim. I will
conclude then by saying that I was only quit of Bernuchon and his ins«-
crable pipe, when in my be<l by the side of my wife."

" Can you, who are such a clever lawyer, tell me, continued my compa-
nion, who still owed me a grudge, if there is a different hell for each religion V*

" What do you mean I a different hell for each religion," I said?

NOTES TO CHAPTER VI.

816

** Ye» sir ; is there a hell for catholics, another for protestants, and another
for Jews, and each apart from the others."

" I am not veiy well versed in theology," I answered in order to draw
him out, " why do you ask me such a question ? "

" Ah well ! you see when there are a good many cattle, there must falB
some partitions in the stables and cattle-sheds. But what troubles me
most is those poor Protestants, they must have a pretty hard hell to indure,
since they have abolished Purgatory, and are so careful ol themselves that
they neither fast, nor keep Lent ; it must be frightfully hot there, never fear.
Duii't you see, even the greatest sinners in our religion do a little bit oi
penance from lime to lime ; every little bit is so much paid, and our hell
will have to be so much the less heated."

« Do you know Desrosiers," I said to him, « that you make me quite
uneasy."

" fkm't be afraid sir, the lawyers will not be put in the same large hell as
other people, if they were, thb^ would soon turn it upside down with their
pettifogging, so that Satan himself would not have devils enough to keep
order."

" What would you have done with them, then 1 " I exclaimed bursting
out laughing.

" They will have a little hell of their own, well enc'osed, well heated,
and even well lighted for them to see each other better, and there, after
having devoured their poor clients on earth, they will tear each other to
pieces without the devil liaving to help them."

Desrosiers had taken his revenge or me ; it was his turn to laugh, and I
joined in heartily.

" Now, that you i ave so charitably disposed of the lawyers," said I to
him, " what are you going to do with the doctorf ? "

"One must not speak evil of one's neighbor," he answered : (It seems
that Desrosiers did not count lawyers as his neighbors) " I cnly know one,
eighty years of age, and I hope the devil will make him swallow all the pills
of clay that he has made his patients take ; my poor wife for one took six
of them at a mouthful, and thought she would nave died with the pain.*
He had particularly told her to take but one at a time, night and morning,
but as he attended her by contract, she thought, right'y enough, that it was
just to save his medicine, and so ^he said whilst bolting the six all at once :
*' I am going to fix him nicely, for now he will be obliged to give me some
more."

The sun, which had risen resplendent over the Pincourt hill^'- now shone
on one of the most beoutiful views in Canada, and put an ena to uur con-
versation. We were at Kamouraska, where tour hundred fre$>h causes, to
be got through in two days, were awaiting the judges, lawyers, clerks. We
were but four lawyers, all recently admilied to practice, Messrs. Valliere,
Leblond, Plamondon, and myself; and we got through all this woik, I very
much fear, at the expense of our poor clients. As I was the only one
amongst us who was at all known in the lower parishes Ihati the choice
of nearly all the causes, and I have, since then, often thought of the place
assigned to the members of the bar by the charitable Desrosiers. We had
set off from Quebec to be present at the assizes, which were thrn held
but once a year in the parish of Kamouraska, and which comprised an
immense district.

* A doctor was carefully weighing a dose of an emetic for a habitant, in
the author's presence '< come, doctor," said Jean Baptiste " you get well
paid ! give good weight I "

»»

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

CHAPTER IX.

(n) It vrm fifty yearn loter that this adventure really happened ; and it
was iiiuliT the folldwing circnmstances that it was related to me by one of
those who had Iteen mo nearly falling vi«'tims to their own want of fore-
thought, [t wns about the year 1817, that, whilst passing a month at St.-
Jean-Port-.loh', monsieur Chnrron, a merchant, and two of the principal
men of the pinre, Fournier by name, uncles to the present representHtive
ol the county of L'Nlet, invited me and our respected cure monsieur Bois-
sonnauh, to a shooting party on the Loups-Mnrins flats.

It was the August springtides, just tne time when the shooting of the
small birds bey;ati on this flat. When we landed on it, it was literally cov-
ered with plovers, curlew, and larks. What a chance for a city sportsman !
carried away by my enthusiasm, 1 seized my gun, and springing on shore
lefl my companions to break their backs dragging the boat on to the
sand.

( h. '1 already fired seven or eight times, to the great amusement of my
compat.ions, who had only halt finished their work, when Mr. Uharron,
who was rtlwavs fond of a joke, called out to me laughing : " Well done
your lordship ! Fire again ! try to leave the father and mother to prevent the
race from becoming extinct ! It is all very well this time ; but look out for
yourst-lf at your next visit to the flats."

I only understood the (irtt part of this ironical address, and went on
massaoiing the small birds.

Then they nil disper.se<l about the strand, and it was only at night-fall
that we re-iis.»embled at the hut where we at once prepared the apola, or
stew of larks and potatoes, bread-crumb and michigonen s the partuking
of that di^h being incumbent on all hunters who vi»it the flats at that season,
in spite of the ample provisions they are already supplied with. Michi-
gonen, which has always kept its inaigenous appellation, is a sort of par-
sley, very superior in flavor to that grown in gardens; it gives a most
exquisite flavor to fresh salmon particularly.

Whilst awaiting the cooking of our apola. Tasked Mr. Charron the mean-
ing of the latter part of what he had said to me as I had not understood him.
He then, m the presence of the two Mr. Fou.niers, his companions in mis-
fortune, commenced the recital which I have put unto the mouth of " my
uncle Kaoul." Although Mr. Charron was the youngest, and a man of
athletic ^tl•ength, he would certainly have been the first to succumb had it
not been for the succors brought them by the Ile-aux-Coudres men. We
will let him speak for himself:

" My strength was so exhausted, that I was dosing nearly all the time }
and during this aorx of »leep, I had one constant dream ; t thouiiht I was at
a table coveretl with the most tempting viands, of which f was eatings
voraciously, without being satisfied. Do not imagine that when awake, it
was only similar dainties that I coveted ! oh no ! In the midst of my terrible
suflerings, I exclaimed : « I would give all 1 possess lor the food which ray
servants at home are giving to the meanest animals.' "

" You see that rock withrn halfa gun-shot of us," Mr. Charron went on,
"one day I came tottering out of the hut with my gun and perceived a
crow perched on that very rock. I took aim at it, when instead of one
crow, I saw three } 1 fired and the crow flew away i there was but one ; and
I, who Without boasting can call my.self an excellent shot, hod missed it
when quite close to it I longed lor it so eagerly, that I could have
craunched it up leathers and all. I su realized the horrors of my position
that 1 even shed tears."

" I cannot understund," I said to him, " how five men could live for
seventeen days on one loaf and a bottle of rum."

" Still it IS the truth," he replied, "for with the exception of some eel's
heads and frozen potato-peelings that wu found in the sand, we had no
Other fo^-d,"

NOTES TO CHAPTER IX.

•If

" Now please explain to me the woitls you addrcRiied to me when I wac
Kh()utin<< / "

" I WHS only joking " ho replied, " hIjoiu the pains you wore tnkiiiR to
!-hi'()t a (Idzoii or so of lurks, when liicy were di>|H.T8Cil about the Hals, at
low wnter ; whiJHt had you, like u», wiiited for a couple ol lioui's, you
Woiilil have killed fifty, »ixly, aiui even liiindred ol ihem at one ^llot."
Be.sii!fs he added, " it wan meant lorn },'entle repronth for your not lieiping
us to run our boat on to the sand, lur it is pretty heavy, ami ttime our
unliK'ky adventure, we sportsmen have eome lo nn nffreement never to lire
our uunsn sjiigle time, be to re Wo have placed our boat complelely out of
reu'li of liie tide ; you being a stranger, this is nothing lo you, it was only
meant as a joke."

1 alterwards repeatedly for ten years went out shooting with tlie same
people, but I always took care to conform to so prudent a rejjuhition.

(I») In my ehildhooil, and even at a more advanced age, I was well
acquainted With poor Mary, called by iho habitants, " Ihe witch of the'
domain," because she lived in a hut built in the mi(Ut ol a wood ll»et had
been originally a jjart of my grand lather's properly. She was a tall, handsome
woman, always walking very erect and with a proud and imposing appear-
ance, in spite of her wandering lilc and renoWn as a sorceress, she still
bore a good character. She took pleasure in confirming! the habitants'
btjliof ill her weird powers, by fi'cqueiitly pretending to hold coiiversalions
wiih an invisable being, whom she would pretend to drive away, tiisl with
one hand, and then with the other.

h)he was the wife of a rich habitant, and it would bedilliciili to say for
what reason she left her family and led so eccentric a life. .Sometimes she
would go to her husband's house in search of provi>ions, but moi-c often .she
would eat at the houses of the other habitants, who, IcariiiK her lar riioic than
they liked her, did not dare to refuse her whatever she asked l\>i; even when
it was to curry it away with her, as they were afraid ol her <.a.siiiig a spell
on them. In'oiir own family we would olten speak of lliis ecceiiirie
woman. We always imagined that there was as much malice as liiily in
her disposition which had been souretl by domestic liMublts, pei hups by an
ill assorted marriage. My father and mother would of.en say to her, wlien
she was practising her mummeries at their manor-house, where she would
frequently come.

'• You must know well, Mary, that we do not place the >li!.-htesl laiih in
your pretended conversations with the devil! You may be able to impose
on the superstitious habitants, but you cannot impose on us I"

This however did not hinder her from insiMing that she olien really con-
versed with the evil spirit, " who gave her more than her share of torment'
ing," she would say.

For a long lime my lather had been wishing to ascertiiiu whether she was
wilfully deceiving people, or whether she really in her folly believed that
she saw ami heard the spirit of darkness. One day therefore during my
holidays, he put her to the proof he had decided on. We ?;iw her at u dis-
tance, coining towards our house, and feeling sure she would |)ay iisa visit,
we prepared every thing for the purpose.

*' 1 am glad to see you, my poor Mary," said my mother to her, '« I will
have some breakfast got ready for you."

<' No thank you madame," said Mary, "I have taken all I wish for."

" No matter," replied my mother, ' you can still take a i.-up ol'tea."

It was ditlicult to refuse so kind an oiler, for at that time lea was a rare
luxiiry even at rich habitant's houses.

I cannot refuse a cup ol tea," said Mary.

She had hardly taken two sips of the delightful beverage, when she began
her usual monologue " go away, let me alone, I dont want you."

** Have you ever seen the devil, whom you so often speaks to ? " asked
my mother.

818

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

I have reen him moru than a hundred tiniea, " replied the sorceress ; he
ki* not quite !iu bad as people think him, but at times he is very tormenting."

" Then if you Haw him, you would not leel afraid V

" What a «iuei!lion!" said Mory.

And she took another mouthful of tea, afler having begun her <-ake.

At this moment on a sign from my father, the door opened admitting a
species of demon about four feet high, dremed in a coarse linen shirt that
was down to the knees, exposing bare arms, legs and feet which were as
black as a mulatto's. The apparition had itsfuce covered with a horrible
looking mask adorned with a pair of horns ; and held a pitchfork in its right
hand. This imp was no other than Lizzie, a mulatto girl, that my grand-
father had lK)ugnt when she was four years old, and who then wait about
16 or 17. As lor the ma»k, 1 had brought it from Quebec. This was too
much. The poor woman turned as pale as death, gave a fearliil cry, and
ran Into a room where she barricnded herself in with all the furniture,
which, with superhuman strength, she piled against the door.

We were all grieved at our own imprudent trick, which might have
caused a serious injury to the unhappy woman. Although vexed, my
mother did her utmost to try and pacify Mary by calling out to her that it
was all a trick which had been played upon her, and that the pretended
devil was no other than the mulatto girl. She at length persuaded her to
listen to reason by shewing her the articles of the disguise through the
window of the room in which frhe had shut herself up. She alterwards
made her take a few drops off do not know what, gave her some warm
wine, and sent her nway loaded with presents; but with a ferni resolution
never again to countenance jokes of that sort. I have always understoo<l
that aAer that adventure, the witch of the domain gave up living in her hut.

CHAPTER X.

fa) Mr James Caldwell, a refugee in I'anada aAer thecnpture of Detroit,
ana cousin germain to my wife, (his father having married a Miss Baby of
Upper Canada) about the year 1814 related to me a somewhat similar
anecdote. His brother, Captain John Caldwell, havmg rendered some
service (like the one I have recorded) to an Indian, the latter who had been a
great drunkard, but was now reformed, wished to show his gratitude, first, Ly
oflering rich presents, and atlerwards in a manner, that, though singular,
was in keeping with the manners and customs of these tribes.

Hearing thit his benefactor was nearly dying trom the eflecta of wounds
which he had received in battle during the last war between the Americana
and Englibli, h<: presented himselt at his bedside accompanied by two
Americans whou he had made prisoners.

" Here, my brother," he said to the sick man, " J am going to split open
the skulls of these two 'long knives' (a name given to the Americans by
the Indians) and then the anger of the manifou being appeased, he will let
you live."

Captain Caldwell had much difficulty in preventing this sacrifice to the
matiuau, but by means of urgent supplications, he worked on the Indian'*
feeUngs of gratitude and prevailed on him to make him a present of the two
prisoners.

The circumstances which attended Caldwell's wound deserve to be
recorded, in a battle that the English and their Indians alliea were fighting
against the Americans, he perceived a wounded enemy who was making
useless eflbrts to rise from the ground ; moved by compassion, he ran to
him, intending to prevent the Indians putting him to death ; but, as be was
stooping to tell the Americ-an to fear nothing, as he would protect him, the
latter drew a knife and struck it into his throat, Caldwell fell to the ground,
and the American in his turn leaning over hun, was going to repeat the

NOTES TO CIIAPTKU X.

ai0

blow when nn Indian who was Inying in nnilxioh at filly yard* (liitnnrt*.
i«eing thednnf^er that his friend wmm in, lirid wilh n» (rue an aim ihnt iLc
Yankee'i* brains Ijestpnttorcd his inlcmlfd vicIiiii'm liiii;.

WondeH'ul lu relate Captain CiildwiMl't wound ^uonhuHled; and very
shortly al\rrwardit he was pruMcntUH » witni->>iii u (ourl-Miariiai which sat
ai Montreal on, as near os I cun rein«Mnl><T, (ti'iiernl I'ruciiir.

When he Ix'^^un Kivin^ his evidence lu a w<-iik voice, the president of the
Govrt called out to him :

" Speak louder."

" I cannot," said Caldwell oliowin^' lis iii>ck whi( li was still handiigeii :
" an American struck a knife into my ihront "

It was eertainly enou;{h to make iiiiy one hoarse.

Caldwell was uidy a eaptnin in the Upper Canndu Militin whilst the ofll-
cers, whocom(M)8«d the courl-iunrtiiil, IxUmgtd to the regular iirmy, which
was probably the reason that his answer wns received with much hilaniy
by those ffen'.iemen.

Captain Caldwell said to them indignaniiy ;

" l3efore I received my wound 1 spoke ns loud nt any of you in presence
of the enemy."

Seveial oificers who served in the Upper Cunadu Militin during the war
ofl8l2, told me that the olfluers of the regulars treated them with iinpar-
donable haughtiness ; I cannot explain the rcusitn of iIuk, for the militia
men of Lower Canada had, at this period, every reason to bo satisfied with
the attention shewn them by the regulars in their mutual relations.

CHAPTEU XI.

(a) I think it was in 1806 that nil the family Mng assembled at table at
my father's at St. Jean-Port-Joli, about one o'clock in the afternoon, we
experienced a similar phenomenon. As the sun was shiniiig most briU
lantly, the report, which shook the manor-house to its very foundations,
could not have been the effects of thunder, as we at first imagined. It
seemed as if the immense meal-bin, ten feet long, which was in the lolt,
had been lifted as high as the root by the electric fluid, and allowed to
fall with all its enormous weight on the floor. I leave the tusk of accounting
for this phenoineuon to the natural philosophers.

(b) The great poets study human nature carefully : nothing e.<icapes
them. Wheu reading " Wotre-Dame-de- Paris " that magnificent concep-
tion of Victor Hugo's, I was particularly struck with ihnt torn hing scene,
where the recluse covers Esmeralda's little shoe wilh tears and ki-sses. It
recalled a similar scene to my memory.

My mother had lost a little girl of six years of age, my only sister; she
trette<f After her so much that we neverdar'ed mention the child'.s name in her
presence. Nearly ten years after *his ^ad loss, I, inadvertently, mlered her
l)edroom without knocking at the Joor ; I found her in tears und seated on
the carpet near a chest of drawers, the lower one of which was wide open
although generally kept locked.

*< My dear mother, what is the matter? " said I, ki>sing her.

"I have now" she said, "nothing but this shoe, to recall her to my
mind ; I often kiss it and water it with my tears,"

In fact, my family, soon after the child's death, had hidden from her sight
all such articles as might have kept alive her sorrow ; still, with inge niour
enderness, she had retained this little shoe, untcnown to every one.

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

CHAPTER XI r.

ti^

(a) Mine Ciiuillnrd, rcifriiioressor St. Thomas, South River, who h;i!i
now lieeii (IfU'l sixiy yem^. dfMTiheil n somewhat nimitar scent; to me,
*' my (miIji.t" >lic n;ii(I, *' was lyiiijr very ill, when I saw n detachment oC
Eiijj^lisli soldiers upproMi-hin^- ; I nishe;! out, as it'[ were out of my senses,
and ihiowiMii my>eiriU ihc i<>et ot'ilio oincer in command, said to him, sol)-
bin-j-: '■ Mi'. E\ vHisliniin do noi kill my old liilher, 1 entreat you ! lie is on
his f(i'ath-i>»'(l ! (Id not cut slidri the few days he ha.s get to live ! "

This oiiicei'Wii^ the ((Uiirlor-master Guy Carleiou, afterwards Lord Dor-
chester.

" He rniseri me fro 11 the urotmd wilh great kindness," she went on to
say, <' treiited mi! wiih the trreatest respuet, and in order to allay my /ears,
post el a sentinel before I he house."

Lord Dorchester, havinsr alierwards become the governor of Lower
Canada, woiiM often a>lv Mine. C/'oiiilhud, when she was visilinj? St. Louis
castle, " whether >he was still very miieh alraid of the En:;lish."

•< No." would answer the lady, " but you must acknowledge, my lord,
that the Canadians had good reason to fear your iellow-countrymen, as they
were not nearly as luimone as yoursi'll."

The prejudici's of ih'^ ('iiniuliaiis of old were so great, that they would not
have th()iii;lii it po»silile to have blessed a proiestaiit. A brave and vnlinnt
Canadian oilicer Monsieur ile Beaiijeu, tised to relate that having mortally
Wounded an En!:lish soldier, at the taicmg of Acadia, the unhappy man as
he (ell exclaimed :

" Me Houiiin Calln)iic."

" Why did you not sayso sooner, uiv dear brother," answered the officer,
** ( Would l);ue taken you in my arms."

*•' Hilt " he added, " it was too lute : his bowels were dragging on the
snow "

And the old octogenarian was still quite nflected by the recollection of
tJiis event.

These prejudices of the Frencdi-Canadiim catholics against their brothers
of another lailh. ni\> now (ompielcly eliiiced : 1 wish, with all my heart that
1 could pay the same rrompliment to a great number of our separatetl
brethren.

The veiierable old man who told me this anecdote was a Canadian by birth.
His name was Louis Liennrd Vi!!enionble de Jieaujeu, knight of the royf.l
and militaiy order of .St. Ijouis, and grandfather to my son-in-law the
Honorable Sav.use de JVaujeu, at presei:t a member of the Legislative
Council.

This gallant oflicer had commanded with honor, under the French Gov-
ernment, at .Michilimalciiiak and Louisiana. He had distinguished him.self
nt the taking oi .A-cadin, aid it was he, who, in 1775, got together nearly
a thousand militiamen from Jiis own seigniory and neighborhood, with
which forces General l-'arleton set out Irom Montreal to meet Montgomery.

His broiher, Daniel Lienard jle Beaiijeu, bought, with his own life, the
glorious victory which he gained, in 17o5, overBraddock,at Monoiigahela;
and where the Enalish general was killed at the same time as himself.

The.se two generals ijjade a prelude to the scene, which, four yeors later,
v>as enacted on the plains of' Abraham when Wolfe and Montcalm, the two
Comnuin(lei>, perished also on the Held of battle.

Mr. .1. Vt. iShea, in his act-ouui of the battle of Monongahela, and our
histotian, Monsieur Gartieaii, relate that Washington, who, at the head, of
his militia, made good ihi; letreai of ihe Engli.-.h who had escaped from the
mussRcre, exclaimed: " We have been beaten, shamefully beaten by a
handful ol Frenchmen I "

The name ot Beaujeii recalls to my mind anotner Canadian of the sanie
Cainily, who did honor to his country, in the other hemisphere.

NOTES TO CHAPTER XII.

321

The abbe Louis Lienard de Beaujeu was brother to the preceding. The
de Beaujeu family is indebted to the venerable abbe Faillon, who so suc-
cessfully occupies himself with our Canadian annals, for the uopyofa letter
from a superior of the Sulpicians at Paris, to the superior of the branch
house at Montreal in which there is the following passage : " I have the
pleasure of telling you that a young Canadian, the abbe de Beaujeu, has
carried away the prize fur a theological thesis, from alt the French compe-
titors." The abbe de Beaujeu was afterwards conlessor in ordinary to the
unfortunate Louis the Sixteenth.

CHAPTER XIII.

(a) The Indians had a horror of the halter ; they preferred the stake,
where their enemies would otlen torture them foi days together. A young
Indian having killed two Englishmen, a few years aAer the conquest, his
tribe would only give hira up to the government on the express conditioa
that he should not be hung. When he was convicted of the murder he
was shot. The country must have been under military law at that time ;
no ordinary criminal court could have legally substituted a bullet for a halter
in a case of murder.

There is a tradition in my family that my maternal great-grandfather, the
second Baron de Longueuil, being at that time governor of Montreal had
an Iroquois prisoner hungr and that this stern act of;, stice had the salutary
effect of preventing these barbarians torturing the I'-'ciioh prisoners they
took afterwards, as the Baron de Longueuil had announv-ed to them that he
would have two Indian prisoners bung for every Frenchman that they
burnt.

(1») On returning from their warlike cxpiditions, the li ''-ans, before
entering their village, always uttered as many death-cries as they had lost
warriors. 1 once happened to hear these mournful cries which they utter
from (he depths of their chests. It was 'uring the war cgainst the Ameri-
cans, in the year 1812. Eighteen great chiefs, deputies from the various
tribes to governor Provost, came to Quebec, during the winter ; they were
all yeated at the bottom of the carioles, and they began to utter their death-
cries just opposite to the General Hospital, and onlv ceasing them wheo
they alighted from their carriages to enter the house knowp. by the sign of
the " Chien d'or," where they were first received.

It appears that they were not very much pleased at h^ing thus received in
a hou>e nearly bare of furniture . as they had been expecting to meet with
a less ca\'alier reception; in fact, an aide-de-camp having been sent by tiie
Governor to pay theu. a complimentary visit, one of the chiefs told him thst if
they had visited the President of the U. S., they would have been treated with
far more respect at Washington. The next day they were taken to the best
hotel in Quel>ec, where they were entertained at the expense of the govern-
ment. It did not seem, however, as if they attached any valiie to the
furniture of the rooms, never once using either the beds or chairs during
their stay at the hotel.

Whilst in our city there were but two things which struck them ; the
first was the ebb and flow of the tide, a phenomenon which excited the
greatest admiration in them, as they could not account for it ; the other was
the height of the citadel. They said that they were j^lad to see that the long
knives were not likely to cast their Father (the governor) into the great
lake.

They were accompanied by their interpreters. Some one observing to
a Sioux chief that he resembled the Prince of Wales ;

« I am not surprised at it," he answered, " for I also am a King's aofl,"

Another person having asked him if be -TfiiXe a great warrior :

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

** I am so great a warrior," he replied drawing him.««irup proudly," that
when I go forth to battle, the earth trembles beneath my feet."
I have rarely seen a Aner man than this Indian.

CHAPTER XIV.

(a) My grand-aunt. Mother St. Alexis, who wa» for many years the
superior of the General Hopital, and whose name is still revered there,
woukl oAen say to me, when fipeaking of this subject :

" All the linen of our house, including even our own body-linen, was
torn up to dress the wounds of those who were brought to u.<> of both nations,
we had nothing left but the clothes we wore the day of the battle. V7e had
not been rich and we were reduced to the most extreme poverty ; for not
only our linen, which was a most precious commodity in a hospital, but
also our provisions and farm-animals were placed at the disposal of the sick.
After the conquest, the English Government refused to indemnify us.*'

♦* In this extremity," she added, " we had no other resource than to close
our house and disperse among the other convents in this colony, but Provi-
dence came to our assistance. One morning our rhaplain found in his
room, a purse containing a hundred portugaises (a gold coin . ' 3rth eight
dollan) and as we could never discover from what charitabiti band we had
feceived it, we have always thought God worked a miracle in our favor.'*

The General Hospital was still very poor fifty years ago, but the commu-
nity has since sold lands sufficient to furnish a competence to this house
consecrated to the support of the infirm,

(b) The Montgomery of this work, is an imaginary personage, but at
the time of the conquest, his namesake did really commit many acts ol cold-
blooded and wanton barbarity against the Canadians. The memoirs of
Colonel Malcolm Eraser, at that time lieutenant in the 78th or Fraser'a
Highlanders, bear witness to this : " There were several of the enemy killed
•ad wounded, and a few taken prisoners, all of whom the barbarous Cap-
tain Montgomery, who commanded us, ordered to be butchered in a most
inheman and cruel manner."

The same Colonel Eraser, at the time of Wolfe's invasion of Canada,
formed part of a detachment which set fire to the Canadian dwelling houses
from River Quelle as far as the Three Salmons River. When, after the
conquest, he had become an intimate fr-end of our family, he replied to my
grandfather when the latter was eumplaining of this act of vandalism.

** What would you have, my dear friend, war is war ; you Frer/h,
lying in ambus<'ade in the woods killed two of oar men as we were iand-
ing at River Quelle."

" At any rate," replied my grandfather, ** you might have spared in/
flour-mill ; my unhappy tenants would not then have been reduced to boil-
ing their wheat, so as to make sagamiti of it, Uke so many Indians."

<< War is war," added my grand-mother, " I grant you that, but was it
fair warfare assassinating my young brother Villiers de Jumonville, as Mr.
Washington your fellow-countryman did at Eort Necessity t"

" Ah madam," replied colonel Fraser, " for pity sake and for the honour
of the English, never speak of that atrocious muraer."

And at that time all the English spoke in the same terms.

I gently reproached our celebrated historian, Mr. Garneau, with having
poraed over this homble assassination too lightly. He told m» it was a
very delicate subject, that the bhade of Washington was hovering over
the writer, or something of that sort.

This may be so ; but it is incumbent on me to clear the memory of my
grand-uncle, whose character, Washington in bis memoirs tries to sidly^
u order to exonerate himself from the muvdev.

NOTES TO CHAPTER XIV.

888

The tradition in my family is that Jumonville was the bearer of a sum-
mons enjoining Major Washington, commandant of Fort Necessity, to
evacuate the post as it was on the French possessions ; that he hoisted his
flag of truce and showed his despatches, '.ut that nevertheless the English
commandant ordered his men to fire on him and his litte escort, and that
Jumonville fell mortally wounded, as well as some of those who accom-
panied him.

There is u slight discrepancy, easily explained however, between our
family tradition and the historic truth. Besi'les, this discrepancy has nothing
to do with the murder of the bearer of the tlagoi truce, whose mission was to
summon the English to evacuate the French possrsstons, and not Fort
Necessity, which was only finished after the ambuscade.

Now let us see whether history agrees with the tradition. The following
is an extract from the 1st volume, page 200, of the " Collection of anecdotes
and memorable facts," by Monsieur De la Place :

" In 175.3, the English having crossed the Apalache mountains, the
boundary between their possessions and ours in North America, they erected,
on our land, a fort which they called Fort Necessity ; upon which the
French commandant deputed Monsieur de J umonville, a young officer who
had already distmguisheti Iiimself against them more than once, to summon
them to retire.

" He set out with an escort ; and on his approaching the fort, the English
opened a severe fire on him : He made signs to them with his hand,
shewed his despatches from afar and asked a hearing. The firing ceased,
he was surrounded, and after announcmg himself as an envoy, he read the
summons of which he was the bearer. The English put him to death :
surrounded his escort ; eight men were killed, and the rest ofthem put in irons.
One Canadian only escaped, and carried the terrible tidings to the French
commandant. Monsieur de Villiers, brother to the unfortunate Jumonville,
who was encharged with avenging his brother's blood and the honor of
France. In less than two hours, the fort was invested, attacKeJ; and forced

to capitulate De Villiers* saw his enemies at his feet, begging for

their lives He sacrificed his resentment to the peate of the two

nations to his own glory, to his country's honor, to the claims of humanity
What a contrast I

" A patriotic Frenchman, when he shudderingly heard the frightful
tidings, exclaimed in a voice that was broken by sobs :

" Treach'rous when at war, perfidious when at peace,
" Wanting in faith to e'en your own sworn treaties,
" Behold I ye English I where Jumonville now reposes,
" And, if ye can, blut<h red beneath each Frenchman's gaze !
'< h JV the assassin's knife, your fury made him bleed,
" And, on this young hero, ye thought, to wreak your hate,
" Why, like savage cannibals, did ye not crown the deed,
*' And feasting on his body, your gory vengeance sate."

At the news of this murder, a cry of indignation and rage arose from both
New and Old France, and a member at the French Academy, Thomas,
wrote the poem of Jumonville.

Before recording the terms of capitulation which Mon-'eur de Villiera
made Washington sign, I think I ought to give an extract from the Ar-
chives of the French marine in which we find the instructions that the for-
mer received from his superior officer.

* My grand-uncle, Coulon de Villiers, died of the smnH-pox when he
was over sixty years of age, incessantly reiterating "I, to die in bed like a
woman I What a terrible fate for a man who has so often faced death on
the battle-field ! I had always hoped to shed the last drop of my blood m
fighting for my country !''

21*

824

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

« Monsieur de Contrecoeur, on the 28th of June, sent Monsieur de ViliierSy
" de Jumonviile's brother, with six hundred Canadians, and one hundred
« Indians, to avenge his brother's death, dec.

" We order him (Monsieur de Viiliers) to attack and ntterty destroy them,
** if it can be done, in order to punish themybr theeusasaitiation (sic) eom-
" mitted by them, in violation of the most sacrec! laws of civilized nations.

*' Notunthatanding their vnheard of deed, we recommend Monsieur
« Viiliers to avoid, as much as he can, practising any cruelty.

" He will take care to inform them (the Engh°>h) that the Indians »»-
*' dignavt at what they fuire done, have declared their intention of not
« restoring the prisoners whom they have in their hands, Sec.

" Given at the camp of Fort Duquesne, 28th June, 1754.

(Signed,) Contbkc(rur."

My grand uncle de Viiliers had certttinty nearly carte blanche ; and had he
been less noble-minded than he was, Washington would never have endowed
his fellow countrymen with a large and independent empire ; and would
nOw occupy but a small place in history.

The following is an extract from thetei'ms of capitulation :

" 3rd July, 1754, 8 o'clock in the evening.

" Terms of capitulation granted by Monsieur de Viiliers, captain of
" infantry, commandant of Uis Most Christian Majesty's troops, lo such of
*' the English troops as are at present at Fort Mecessity, which has been
« built on the domains of the King :

" To wit : as our intention has never been to trouble the peace and
** harmony reigning between the two friendly princes, but oidy to avenge
" the murder which has been perpetrated on one of our otiicers, the bearer
'* of a summons, and on his escort, ice."

" We afterwards read in the 7th article :

« That as the English have in their power an officer, two junior officers,
" and, in general terms, the prisoners tliey made at the time of the aasaasi-
*f nation of Monsieur de Jumonville, dec.''

" Given in duplicate at oje of the posts of our blockade, &c."

« (Signed,)

" (Signed,) CoOEOTi Villiers." •

There is certainly no one more ready than myself to render justice to the
great qualities of the American hero ; when my family would expatiate on
the cruel and premature death ot our relative, murdered just at the com-
mencement of a career which bid fair to be a brilliant one, I always tried
to excuse Washington on account of his extreme youth ; in fact, he was
then only twenty years of age. I drew (heir attention to his virtues and
humanity, when, twenty-two years after this catastrophe he took his fellow
countrymen's cause in nand, and created a great and independent nation.

1 should not have thought of rescuing this deplorable circumstance from
oblivion, if Washington himself had not given me reason so to do by trying,
in the memoirs he ^niblished several years atler the catastrophe to sully my
grant uncle de Jumonville's reputation, so as to exculpate himself.

« We were informed," he writes, "thtft de Jumonville, disguised asan
Indian, was for several days prowling around our posts, and I was justified
in locking upon him as a spy."

This excuse is a very un probable one, for Washington must have been
aware that not only the soldiers, but also the officers, of the French army,
when they were fighting in the forest, wore the same costume as the abori-
gines ; a short oapot, leggings, and deer-skin belt and shoes. This flexible and

* The duplicate of this document still exists in the MontrcfOl record office.
The other copy is in the Marine archives at Paris.

James Macsay,
a. Washington.

NOTES TO CHAPTER XIV.

835

fight dress gave them a great advantage over enemies who were always
'dressed in the European manner. Besides, JunionviUe could not, witliout
culpable temerity have gone straight to the Englibh posts, un|«ss he took
precautions ; the woods being invested by Indians, enemies to the Frenchj
who, on the tirst impulse, would not have much respected his flag of truce,

AAer having done justice to this accusation of being 8uspe<-ted as a spy,
of which however Washington did not think till ha was writing his me-
moirs mnny years after ti:e murder, let us see what he said in his own justi-
fication in his despatches to his own government immediately after the
murder. We must here take notice that prance and England were at that
time living at peace with ea(rh other, that it was only after this event that
war was declared by Ijouis the Fifteenth ; that the only hostilitieH were
tiiose commtl'ed by ttie English who had encroached upon the French
possessions ; and that it was against this very act that Jumonville was sent
to protest.

But let us return to Washington's justification of his own conduct, as
contained in his despatches. He says: "that he looked on the New
England frontier, as invaded by the French, that war se«m tohimtobeexist-
*"8'> 4^- That the French had flown to arms before his eyes ; that he had
then ordered his men to fire ; that a fight had ensued which lasted aliout a
quarter of an hour, at the end ot which time the French had ten men killed,
one wounded and twenty-one taken prisoners ; whilst the English had one
killed and three wounded ; tliot it was not true that Jumonville read the
summons, &c. That there had been no murder ; only a surprisal and a skir-
raifhy which was fair warfare,"

" Fair warfare," certainly, a strong detachment unexpectedly attacking
a handful of men in the midst of peace ! For only a major of twenty year*
of age, he knew well how to get out of the aflair ; many generals of the
Northern army could not do better now-n-days, though they prid§ them-
5elve8 on their capabilities in this line. The two following phrases parti-
cularly are wondi^rfuily ingenuous : " That war seemed to him to be
existing," « that the French had flown to arras before bis eyes." Perhaps
these French doas had ibrgotton that it would hav.e been more christian to
let their throats be cut like so many sheep.

I( wo accept Washington's version of the affair, how can we account for
t))e cry of indignation arid horror that resounded through New France and
even from Europe ? No one has ever accused the French of weeping like
women over the loss ol' their best generals, or even over a signal defeat;
why then should they shew such indignation and furv at the news of the
death of a young man, who was, so to say, making his first campaign, if
he had perished in a battle taking place according to the rules of civilized
nations. All this must strike the reader at first sight, even if he has never
Be<>p. the French version of the story, which I will now give.

It is affirmed by all the French prisoners, by Manceau, who waa the only
man that escaped the mxssacre by means of flight and even by the Indiana
wno were allied to the English, that Jumonville waved a handkerchief over
bis head, that, by means of an interpreter, he begged the English to pause,
as he had something to read to them ; that the firing ceased, that it was
whilst the summons was being read aloud by an interpreter that he was
killed hy a ball passing through his head, that, had it not lieen for the
Indians preventing it, all the little band would have been put to death.

Mr. Guizot, in bis memoirs of Washington, after having cited the poem
of" Jumonville," and extracts from Hassan, Lacratelle, and Montgaillard,
all of which coroborate Mr. de la Place's version, slights all these authori-
ties deposited in the archives of the French marine, and adheres to the ver-
sion given by Washington alone.

Can the ttreat shade of the republican hero have biased the judgment
oTthis celebrated French writer! It is not for me, a weak pigmv, to dare
to raise the veil. I ought to lower my flag before (<o high an authority, and
content myself with saying : " Washington ought never then to have signed

326

THE CANADIANS OF OLD.

a writing where (he words * amuwin ' and ' assassination * are thrown io
his teeth, as may be seen in the terms of capitulation thut I have cited."

No matter ; let the reader judge for himself whether or no I have freed
my grand-uncle's memory from the charge of acting as a spy. If Jumon-
ville had played the odious part that his enemy ascribes to him, in order to
exonerate himsell from the charge of a shameful assassination, (he French
would never have shed so many tears over the victim's grave.

CHAPTER XVr.

(a) Historical. Many of the old habitants have often told me that they
had to eat iheir corn boiled, for wantof :nills to grind it.

Even during my childhood, mills were not very numerous. I remembejr
that, one severe winter, my father's on the Three oxlmons Kiver not proving
sufficient fur the tenant's wants, they were obliged to take their t-orn either
to St. Thomas at the distance of eighteen or twenty miles, or to Kamou-
raska at the distance of forty miles ; and they were frequently detained for
three or four days before being able to get their flour.

(1») The author has never been a credulous person, no one ever reproach-
ed nim with such a weaknew; still, even at the risk of appearing so in his
old age, he will relate the following anecdote, as it was told to him by his
maternal grand-mother and her sister Mme. Jarret de Vtircheres, both of
them daughters of Baron Lenioine de Longueuil, and sisters of Mme. de
Mezieres, who perished with her child in the "Augustus."

On the morning of the 17th of November 1762, an old servant who had
nursed the Miss de Longueuil, made her appearance in tears.

" What is the matter with you 'ma mie' (this was the term of afiection
made use of by all the family to her) " why are you crying ? "

She was some time without answering ; but at last she related how in a
dream during the night, she had seen Mme. de Meziere on the deck of the
Augustus with her child in her arms ; and how a tremendous wave had
car''*"' them away.

Oi uourse we attributed this dream to her incessant uneasiness about the
young lady she had nursed. The author in spile of his doubts as to the
precise date of this vision could not help believing a circumstance the truth of
which was attested not only by his own family, but also by several Mont-
real people. Alter all, who can tell? there is yet another chapter that might
be written on ' who can tell? '

(c) Mr. de St. JjUC, a very agreable man, became eventually a great
favorite with Gf neral Haldimand, who was often highly amused at the old
man's repartees, which, though witty were sometimes so little
respectful, that the author thinks he had better not record them. One day
that he was dining at St. Louis castle, in company with many others, he
said to the general.

" As 1 know that your Excellency is a good casuist, I will venture to
submit to you a rase ot conscience which troubles me a little."

" If it is a case of conscience," said the Governor, " you will do better to
speak to my neighbor, the reverend Father de Berey, Superior of the Re-
collete."

" So be it ! " said Mr. de St. Luc, " but I hope your Excellency will
sanction the reverend father's decision."

" Agreed," said general Haldimand laughing, for he liked to provoke
Father de Berey into discussions with the laity, for he was a man spark-
ling with wit ; many of the laity, clever men in other respects , but imbued
with the same philosophical principles ^prevalent in the 18th century) as
the governor himself, let slip no chance ot laughing pitilessly at the son of

NOTES TO CHAPTER XV.

St, Francif). It must be acknowledged however that noae or them ever
got off without receiving some home thrust* from the reverend Father, who,
from having been chaplain to a regiment, was aecustomud to this sort of
fencing, and always got the better of his adversaries, however numerous
they might be.

" Here 'a my case of conscience," said Mr. de St. Luc. " I went to
France afli^ the final cession of Canada in 1763, and there 1 bought a con-
aiderabie quantity of thread lace, and gold and silver lace, besides other
valuable materials. The duty on such things was considerable ; but there
was no help for it. 1 arrived at the English custom-house with four lan(«
trunks over and above my personal baggage which was free of duty. The
officers of that department drew forth from the first trunk that they opened,
«n immense mantle of the richest scarlet silk, which seemed fit for an em-
peror's coronation so loaded was it with thread lace, gold and silver trim-
mings, &c."

"Oh! Oh!" said the custom-house gentlemen, *'iiuM is our lawAil
prize."

" You are a little out there, gentlemen," I said. " And one after the
otner I drew forth the articles composing an Indian chief's costume ; nothing
was wanting ; i>ilk shirt, capot, and leggings of the finest scarlet cloth, all of
them ornamented with expensive trimmings, not forgetting the hat of real
beaver also loaded with the most magnificent leathers, 1 took off my coat,
before the custom-house officer's astonished eyes. I was in a moment dressed
up in the splendid costume of an opulent Indian chief. Gentlemen," I said,
" I am the superintendent of the Indian tribes of North America ; if you
doubt my word, here is my commission. This splendid costume ib the one
I wear when 1 preside at the council of the Huron tribe ; and I wil' TiOW give
you the necessary customary address. I then with perfect self- possession
proceeded to pronounce a magnificent harangue in the purest dialect of the
aborigines ; an harangue that they enjoyed immensely if one could judge
by the fits of laughter it was greeted with.

" W ell take your nei^essary costume for the opening of the Huron parlia-
ment," said the head officer splitting his sides with laughter.

We then went on to the second trunk ; in it there was another costume
as rich as the first, and only differing in the color of the silk and cloth.

The same objections made, the same masquerading ensued. They brde
me take notice that all powerful as was the King of England, yet he
always wore the same dress when he opened his parliament, a far more
augu»t body than that of the Hurons. I replied that the Hurons had nothing
to do with thnt costume, but that the Iroquois had, and they were a tribe
that were very touchy about their national color, which was blue ; I also
said that there could be no doubt but that it the King of England were to
preside at any great Scotch solemnity, he would adopt their costume, the
short petticoat included, and even at the risk of catching cold ; and there-
upon I delivered a splendid address in the Iroquois dialect. British phlegm
could not stand this, and at the end of my speech they exclaimed, " Well
take your costume for the opening of the' Iroquois parliament."

To be brief I succeeded in passing the contents of my tour trunks, as
being president of the Huron, Iroquois, Abeiiaquis and Malnchite councils.
One thing that was of grea'. assistance to me, 1 think, was that being very
dark and speaking the lanc^uage of the four tribes with great facility, the
custom-house officers took me for a full-blooded Indian, and were well
enough disposed to be indulgent to a person who had so highly amused
them.*

*' Now, reverend father," continued Mr. de St. Luc, I must confess that
my conscience has sometimes reproached me, although the English acted
handsomely by letting me pass my things without paying any duty ; and as

* Mr. de St. Luc spoke four or five Indian dialects with faciUty.

S88

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

HnEzoellencT has left it to yon to decide on this question in theology, pro-
missing to endorse your decision, I await my sentence."

Father de Berey, in the heat of discussion, or when taken unswares
would often inavertently make use of the second person singular ; * he
mumbled :

" I did not think thee so quick-witted."

" What do you say, mv reverend father 7 " said Mr. de St. Luo.

" That the devil himself would laugh at it, replied the priest."

This sally excited hilarity of both English aud Canadians; and also of
general Haldiiuand himaelt.

Before finishing this note, I will quote a few passages from a letter of the
■ame Mr. de St. Luc's, that £ have taken from the "Family Memoirs" of
my good friend and reiaiion Mme. Eliza Ann Baby, widow of the late
Honorable Charles E. Cnsgrain. This letter seems as if written but yester-
day, so life-like is it ; it shews with what right judgment, and with what a
■twidfast eye, this remarkable man looked on the atfairs of his country.

To Mr. Baby, Quebec, Canada.

" Paris, rue des fosses Montmartre, 20th March, 1775."

** I have received, my dear countryman, the letter you were so good as
to write to me ... . Accept my thnnks for the good news that you give
oie, and the gratifying details as to the answer returned by government to
the demands made by the Canadians. The court here seems to be most
favorably disposed to them ; and I am fully persuaded that it rests with
theravelves to obtain a favorable decision. As to the apprehensions you
are still under and of which you tell me, if you are all o( the same mind, if
you have no divisions among yourselves, and if you keep well with your
pi«late, not only because he is an enlightened man, b'.it also on account of
the grace bestowed on his office, you will see that all will go well. My
dear /ellow countrymen, you should make but one bo«ly and one soul, and

you should blindly follow the advice of your head pastor The

nistory of the Bostonians and of the revolted English colonies is making

much noise here ; it appears that they are getting the upper hand.

However that may be, I firmly believe that you have done well, and acted
wisely in not taking part with them ; always remain neuter, like the Dutch,
•ad thankful for the iavorti of the government ; my maxim is, never to be
the first to be in fault, and ingratitude is my aversion ; rest assured too that
in attaching yourselves to the court of London, you will at least enjoy the
Mune privileges as the inhabitants of New England. Such is my opinion."

CHAPTER XVI.

(») Some sixty years ago, my mother, one day, went into lier dairy. She
there found two sailors who were fighting with the mulatto girl and one of
whom had a large kettle in his hand and the other an earthenware jug.

" What is the matter, Liselte ? " said my mother.

" 1 have given them some milk," replied she, " now they are making
signs that they want some cream : it is too good for such fellows."

" Give them what they Dsk for," said my mother : « these poor sailors
have to undergo much harship during their long voyages, and I always feel
for them."

Three months afler this, my mother, who was dining at St. Louis castle,
perceived that an officer was looking at her, and smiling to himself. Feel-
ing somewhat ofiended, she said aloud to the lady sitting next her at table.

* Tutoyer as it is called by the Frendi.

NOTES TO CHAPTER XVI.

(' I do not know why that man i» looking at me bo k.Ard ; I supposo it in
n apecimen of British politeness."

" I niufet beff you to excuse me, mailam," replied the officer in good
Frenrh; " fur T cannot help smiling when 1 think of the excellent cream
tkat you made the girl give the poor sailors, to heal their chests."

This officer and one of his friends had disguised themselves as sailom in
Older to play tlus trick.

(1») Lord Dorchester always did justice to the valor of his former ene-
mies. Far from attributing cowardice to them, as to many others did, ha
did not hesitate to proclaim his admiration of the heroic resistance they made,
notwithstanding their limited resources and the surprise he lelt on entering
the town of Quebec, to find it a heap of ruins. In fact, my maternal uncle
the Honorable Francis Baby, who was one of the defenders of Quebec,
often told me, that, at the time of the capitulation, the town was but a pile
of rubbish, that one could hardly tell where one was in some of the streets,
and that from time to time a canon was fired, in order to make the enemy
believe that there was stilt plenty of ammunition ; though, in reality, there
was hardly any left. Lord Dorchester never forgot their bravery ; 1 have
in my possession one of his letters, dated 13th September 1775, and addi'es-
sed to my grand-uncle colonel Dominick Emmanuel Lemoinede Longueuil,
in which tliere is the following remarkable passage : " I hope you will beg
of those who leave the city to be prudent and not listen to the dictates eJT
their valor ; it was doing 8<.) that was the loss of poor Pertbuis."

CHAPTER XVTI.

(a) This extraordinary adventure used to be related by colonel Caldwell
a distinguished officer from Detroit, (which place was i '-merly within the
limits of Upper Canada, who in Company with the Im. an allies of the
English made the campaigns of 1775 and 1812, against the Americana^
The author having asked several relations and friends of the colonel what
credit might be attached to this anecdote, all agreed in bearing witness to
the colonel's veracity, but they also added, that having for a long time
made war with the Indians, he had become imbued with their superstitions.

Colonel Caldwell, was married to one of the daughters of the Honorable
Jacques Duperon Baby, aunt to the author's wife, and has many descen-
dants in Upper Canada.

(to) This unfortunate swamp used to be the terror of travellers, not only
in the spring and autumn but also in dry seasons, for the turf would often
take fire through the carelessness of travellers, smokers, and would burn fur
months together. Every one used to complain, swear and storm at tlie
unfortunate savannah ; but though it had many enemies, it had also warm
partisans. Jose (a nickname given to the hahitants) was attached to his
swamp by many ties : his defunct father had broken his harness there, his
defunct grand father had left the two wheels of his " cabrouet" there, and
had nearly broken his back ; his uncle Bapiiste also had thought once that
be and his horse wouki have been burnt alive. However, Mr. Destimau-
ville, the commissioner of roads, met with much opposition when he did his
utmost to put an end to this public nuisance. All that was wanted in
order to have one of the best roads on the South-Coast, was to open a new
one at a few acre's distance. All the lawyers at the Quebec bar, fortu-
nately not very numerous then (otherwise the trial would hardly have been
finished now^ were employed to plead for or against this delightful swamp;
but, one of tne judges having nearly broken his neck there one day, com-
mon sense gained the day over the lawyers' quibbles and the commissioner's
report was adopted. TraveUers rejoice, and the land thus brought in, pro-

380

THE CANADIANS OP OLD.

daces excellent crops, but alas ! there are no longer r.ny other tales to
while away the evenings, except tho$e of accidents which had happened
there fifly years previously.

(c) Formerly the habitants' children used not to eat at the same table
as their father and mother till after their first communion. In tt family in
easy circumstances, there was always a little low table for their use ; gene-
rally, however, the children took their meals on the block : there were
always several of these in the kitchen, which room frequently was the
habitants only one ; these blocks wouK often make up for the scarcity of
chairs, and it was on these also that the meat was cut up and minced to
make into pies and pasties for holidays. All that was necessary was to
turn over the block, accordinfj to what it was wanted for. Dunng their
quarrels, elder children would oltcn say to younger ones : « you still only eat
on the block," which was a cutting reproach to the little ones.

(d) The account given of this murder by Captain Des Eoors is perfectly
correct. A grand nephew of the unfortunate Nadeau lately told the author
that the whole family usted to l)elieve that General Murray had had the two
orphans thrown into the sea, during their passage across the Atlantic, in
order to eflace every trace of his cruelty, for they had never been heard of
since. It is far more probable that Murray loaded them with favors and
that they are now the founders of honorable families. The author, in his
youth always heard, from those who had known General Murray, and who
certainly did not particularly like hiia, that he was really sorry tor what he
had d .ne.

CHAPTER XVIII.

(a) The author thinks that a word of advice to his young fellow-coun-
trymen will not be out of place here. In these days, any body may aspue
to the rank of (gentleman, and even gain it very quickly ; but it is one thing
to have the station, and another to have the tone and manners of one.
There is a longer apprenticeship to 1)e served by any one who has not been
accustomed to it from childhood, than one can well believe. Woe to him,
who, on entering this new world, shall have the presumption to think he
has nothing to learn : with such ideas, he will all his life be a ridiculous
being, fie will not be able to say a word, or to perform the most ordinary
action without laying himself open to observation ; it is certain, that, when-
ever he goes into society, he will be its laughing-stock for some days, on
account of his blunders, and he will be pitilessly turned into ridicule ; if, on
the contrary, he is without pretention and retiring in his manners, he will
naturally take notice ot the tune and manners of well-bred people and will
aoon learn the language and manners of good society, which is always in-
dulgent.

It is only coxcombs who will not take this advice in good part.

(b) The Canadians used to dislike tea. The ladies sometimes took it
as a sudorific during their illness, giving the preference however to camo-
mile tea.

When the author's mother, who had been brought up in towns, where
she frequented English society introduced tea into her father-in-law's family
after her marriage, 78 years ago, the old people used to laugh at her, saying
that she only took such trash to imitate the £nglish, and could not posMibly
find any flavor in it.

(c) The author, in his childhood, knew two notaries who used to paas
round the country regularly every three months, loaded with their stock (rf*

NOTES TO CHAPTER XVIII.

811

books, &c., placed in a seal-skin bag to preserve them from tlie rain. These

^!l«i?irTK ''""''^ r" ^tr'^^"^ fi^sproof sales, when there waH
case of fire, they just threw the bag and its contents out of the window

i».i*!!\^''*''fi,^""'' certainly, some very learned notaries in Canada in
J^J"^' ' ""^n "''^ ^"^ witness to this /but there were some also whose
Ignorance would put to shame that of a bailiff in our days.

A certam notary of the latter category was drawing up an act for a voun»
1^ who was of age. He began iSe preamble . Present thriSlSi L r. .5

« ^u' " "''? *'*® author»a father, « a joung lady esquire I '»
gander!*" "1"'"*'' "■"* '*'«' ""'■'T thinking lie had made a mistake in the

« 5?''.,'."iy ^®*' "'' *'° P'*!^ scratch that out ! "
WeU ! Lady squire I " exclaimed the triumphant notaiy.

(e) Neither their distance from it, nor the severity of the season, used to
?if.J^'>?ifl^i?°'* Canadians as had the entree at St. Louis Castle at Quebec
from fu^filhng this duty ; even the poorest gentlemen imposed privations on
!..t^?^ .*^ *° "* !° ^PP*"" respectably at this solemnity. It is certainly the
case that many ol these men who had been ruined by the conquest, and
were living in the country on land which they often had to cultivate with
their own hands, had a somewhat odd appearance when they presented
themselves at the castle, girjled with their swords, which etiquette obliged
them to wear. The wits of the day gave them the sobriquet of "epetiera*'
fgentlemen with sw;ord) : this however did not prevent Lord Dorchester,
„I!I'"f "". fne j"ne ^e was governor of this colony, from having the same
th- fi li ,'rff ^^T ?°°^" epetiew- ' whose vafor he had experienced on
tne field of battle as he had for those more favored by fortune. This excel-
lent man waa often moved even to tears, at the sight of so much misfortune.

-^^npp^

TABLE.

Leavino Colleob i . i. . , ■ , a

AucniBALD Cameron ok Locheill— Jules d'Haberville.. . . 12

a night with the goblins 04

La Corriveau am

The breaking up op the ice » 41*

A SUPPER AT A Canadian seioxior's ({9

Thb d'Habervillb Manor 90

Mat-DAT IQg

Toe Feast ok St. John Baptist ns

Thb good Gentleman j3j

Madahb d'Habervxlle's legend 150

The conflagration on t.ib south shore ] 08

A night with the Indians 177

The plains op Abraham ^. . . , jgg

Thb shipwreck of the •' Augustus " 214

Ds Locheill and Blanche 231

The home circlb 259

Conclusion 274