rious medley of American and Canadian standards.
Notwithstanding the variety of his occupations, one of which was
supposed to debar him from joining the Methodist Church, he was an
ardent member of that community. The younger man was a Methodist
preacher, working as yet on the missionary circuit, and to him M.
Poussette was holding forth with round black eyes rolling at the
landscape and with gestures inimitably French.

"See, now," he was saying, standing perilously near the wet edge of
rock, "there is no difficult thing! I own the ground. I give the
money. I have it to give. My friend Romeo Desnoyers, of Three Rivers,
he shall come at this place, at this point, and build the church. It
will be for a great convenience, a great success. My guests, they will
attend. I myself will see to that. I shall drive them over."

The younger man smiled faintly. It was necessary at times to restrain
M. Poussette. He pulled him back now, but gently, from the slippery
rock.

"In the summer--yes, of course, I see that. I see that it is needed
then. The rest of the year----"

"The rest of the year! Bigosh--_excusez_,--I tell you, it is needed
_all_ the year round. Look at that big ugly barn full of bad
pictures--yes, sir, I went to Mass regular, when I was a boy--_petit
garcon_--well, every one was the same, sure. But now, ah!--excuse
_me_. A seegar? Yes? You will thry one?"

The minister declined, but M. Poussette lit one of a large and
overfragrant variety, while he frowned at the fall, rolled his large
eyes around again and finally led the way through thick underbrush and
across fallen logs to the deeply-rutted highroad where a horse and
_caleche_ awaited them. The prospective church builder took a long
last look and then said:--

"And you--you shall preach the first sermon. How long does it take to
build nice church, nice pretty Methodist church--not like that big
stone barn I used to go to Mass in?"

At this the Reverend Joshua Ringfield did more than smile. He threw
back his fine head and laughed heartily.

"Oh--Poussette!" he cried; "you're the funniest fellow, the funniest
man alive! Ask somebody else how long it takes to build any kind of
church--how should I know! But if you're in earnest, and I admire you
for it if you are, and I wish there were more like you, I'll come and
do the preaching with pleasure. You'll require a bigger man than I am,
I'm afraid though."

"No, no," pronounced Pous