two of its slight curves, and
presently saw neat fields on either hand, walled in on each farther
side by the moss-hung swamp; and now a small, gray, unpainted house,
then two or three more, the roofs of others peering out over the dense
verdure, and down at the end of the vista a small white spire and
cross. Then, at another angle, two men seated on the roadside. Their
diffident gaze bore that look of wild innocence that belongs to those
who see more of dumb nature than of men. Their dress was homespun. The
older was about fifty years old, the other much younger.

"Sirs, have I already reach Gran' Point'?"

The older replied in an affirmative that could but just be heard, laid
back a long lock of his straight brown hair after the manner of a
short-haired girl, and rose to his feet.

"I hunt," said the traveller slowly, "Mr. Maximian Roussel."

A silent bow.

"'Tis you?"

The same motion again.

The traveller produced a slip of paper folded once and containing a
line or two of writing hastily pencilled that morning at Belle
Alliance. Maximian received it timidly and held it helplessly before
his downcast eyes with the lines turned perpendicularly, while the
pause grew stifling, and until the traveller said:--

"'Tis Mr. Wallis make that introduction."

At the name of the owner of the beautiful plantation the man who had
not yet spoken rose, covered with whittlings. It was like a steer
getting up out of the straw. He spoke.

"M'sieu' Walleece, _a commence a mouliner_? Is big-in to gryne?"

"He shall commence in the centre of the next week."

Maximian's eyes rose slowly from the undeciphered paper. The
traveller's met them. He pointed to the missive.

"The schoolmaster therein alluded--'tis me."

"Oh!" cried the villager joyously, "_maitre d'ecole!_--schooltitcher!"

"But," said the stranger, "not worthy the title." He accepted
gratefully the hand of one and then of the other.

"Walk een!" said Maximian, "all hand', walk een house." They went,
Indian file, across the road, down a sinuous footpath, over a stile,
and up to his little single-story unpainted house, and tramped in upon
the railed galerie.

"_Et_ M'sieu' Le Bourgeois," said the host, as the schoolmaster
accepted a split-bottomed chair, "he's big-in to gryne?"

Within this ground-floor veranda--chief appointment of all Acadian
homes--the traveller accepted a drink of water in a blue tumbler,
brought by the meek wife. The galerie just now