the latter, the fleur-de-lys and cock weather-vane, symbolical of
France. Nine gables too, had the church, of various sizes. Its roof was
shingled and black, and where it sloped down in the rear, a little third
belfry pointed its spire. A stout, stone sacristy grew out behind. A low
pebbled platform, two steps high, extended in front, and had a crier's
pulpit upon it. And amid these varied features, the body of the church
on all sides cloaked itself in its black roof with a mien of dignity,
and its graceful tin-covered belfries, fair in their mediaeval patterns
and pointing sweetly to heaven, glinted far over the leagues of the
River.

Yet it was not alone as to prominence of appearance, situation, and
architectural attractiveness--that Dormilliere found its centre in the
Parish Church. No relation of life, no thought, no interest, no age in
years, but had its most intimate relation with it. There alike weary
souls crept to pray for consolation, and vain minds sought the pomp of
its ecclesiastic spectacles and ceremonies; the bailiff cried his
law-sales before it, the bellman his advertisements; there was holy
water for the babe, holy oil for the dying, masses for the departed; the
maiden and the laborer unveiled their secret lives in its
confessional-box; and all felt the influence, yea some at that period,
the sternly asserted rule, of the Master of the institution.

Chamilly went with Chrysler to it on the first morning of his stay in
Dormilliere, which was a Sunday. As they approached it through the
square, filled with the tied teams of the congregation, a beadle,
gorgeous in livery of black and red, with knee-breeches and cocked hat,
emerged from the side door and proceeded to drive the groups of
stragglers gently inwards with his staff, as a shepherd guides a flock.

Haviland looked at his friend, smiling.

"You are not in Ontario," he said.

"Clearly not," replied Chrsyler, "In my democratic Province, such a
proceeding would be impossible."

When they entered, the gorgeous beadle led them soberly up one of the
aisles,--carrying his staff in a stately manner--to the seigneurial pew,
a large, high enclosure, with a railing about the top like a miniature
balustrade, and a coat-of-arms painted on the door; and into this he
ushered them with grave form, and the Ontarian vividly began to realize
that he was in a feudal land: after which he took a glance about him.

Filling the great phalanx of soiled and common