et under the spreading boughs.

"Now tell us, De La Lande, about your trip to Montreal."

Of the two friends who drove up with their host in the cart, one was
Breboeuf, a hunchback. This little creature on being introduced, bowed
and shook hands with an aspect of hopeless resignation, and sitting
down, relapsed into thought, telescoping his neck into his squarish
shoulders. His companion was a young man of small build, but spirited,
good-looking face--De La Lande, schoolmaster of the village, a son of
the farmer "Duke."

"And where commence?" responded the schoolmaster to the request for an
account of the trip to Montreal.

"In the middle, as I am doing," retorted Haviland, flourishing the
carving-knife over the joint.

"Ah well. The middle was the climax with me. It was the Fete of St. Jean
Baptiste!"

"You saw Notre Dame, and the great procession?" inquired the Honorable.

"Yes, I saw that vast Cathedral fifteen thousand full! And the Cure of
Colonization climbed up in the midst, and I heard the most glorious
words that were ever spoken to French Canadians!"

"Was the procession like ours here?"

"At Dormilliere? Pah!--we have two Cures, a beadle and the choir-boys!
Theirs was a mile in length. There were nineteen bands playing music,
all in fine uniforms, and there were all the Societies of St. Jean
Baptiste walking, with their gold chains and their badges, and as many
as forty magnificently decorated cars, bearing representations of the
discovery of Canada by Jacques Cartier, and the workings of all the
trades, and innumerable splendid banners, of white, and blue, and red
and green, with gold inscriptions and pictures--and the Cure of Col----"

"Were the streets well decorated? How were the arches and flags?"

"They were good. The streets were full of flying tricolors and Union
Jacks stretched across them. They were lined with green saplings as we
do here. The crowd was enormous. There were thousands from the States.
And the Cathedral of Notre Dame was all excitement; for the Cure----,"

"Tell us about it! Every one speaks of it! What did he say?"

(A well-known priest had just electrified the people of the land with an
extraordinary declaration.)

"But, to speak of his aims, I must recollect the numbers of our
people."

"Breboeuf, mon brebis," said Chamilly, turning to the little fellow,
"what is the number of the French Canadians?"

The hunchback lifted his face gravely, and issued in a monotono