utly
built, of medium height, brown hair, full eyes and large nostrils, and
strong merry lips, always devising some ingenious adventure.

One of his schemes, a quarter joke, three-quarters half-serious, was to
band together all persons in the Dominion bearing the Ross name into one
Canadian clan, he to be chief! His own surname had first of all been
simply Bleury, but energetic genealogical researches having discovered
to him that the founder of his line in France was a Scotch adventurer,
he made bold to resurrect the original name, and add to it what was
already a "Charles Rene Marie-Auguste-Raoul-St. Cyr-de Bleury."

Jest, quip and lively saying shortened his route to the doorway of the
Circuit Court, and he insisted on Chrysler's passing to his quarters
upstairs. The court-room was stocked with dusty benches and tables, on
and about which a small but noisy company were postured. One reckless
fellow swinging an ale-mug was singing:--

"Tant qu'on le pourra, larirette,
On se damnera, larira!"

Two girls stood together near the door laughing brazen giggles.

They were the Jalberts, daughters of the innkeeper, who himself with
two young politicians from Montreal were impressing on a _habitant_: "If
you don't vote for Libergent, you can't go to heaven;" Jalbert being an
adherent of the Blues in the hope of "running" Dormilliere, if they
succeeded, for his license had been taken away by the new movement. The
bailiff, a wolfish-looking creature, who was always to be had for drink,
also sat there trailing his vast loose moustache over a table. When
Grandmoulin entered, a little crowd, like the tail of a comet, followed
him into the room. As he passed through he said no word, but drew his
cloak about him and moved forward sphinx-like to the bar of the court,
where he sat down and commenced to converse with Libergent.

Chrysler mounted the stairs with his entertainer and came upon an
entirely different scene. De Bleury's spacious attic was appropriated to
the rough and ready convenience of himself alone, and there was
something quizzical about its expanses of brown dimnesses and
darknesses, the cobwebby light that struggled in through the one high
dormer window, the closet-like partition in the middle with a
ticket-selling orifice, and the three or four rough chairs, which, with
table, newspaper, and a basket of bottles, formed the furniture of this
apartment. What work was done here, and how any one could choose s