the white house and stay on guard. His fiddle learned how to sing the
prettiest slumber songs. Moreover, it could crow in the morning, just
like the cock; and it could make a noise like a mouse, and like the cat,
too; and there were more tunes inside of it than in any music-box in the
world.

As the boy grew older, the little cabin with the curved roof became
his favourite playground. It was near the river, and Fiddlin' Jack was
always ready to make a boat for him, or help him catch minnows in the
mill-dam. The child had a taste for music, too, and learned some of the
old Canadian songs, which he sang in a curious broken patois, while his
delighted teacher accompanied him on the violin. But it was a great day
when he was eight years old, and Jacques brought out a small fiddle, for
which he had secretly sent to Albany, and presented it to the boy.

"You see dat feedle, Billee? Dat's for you! You mek' your lesson on
dat. When you kin mek' de museek, den you play on de violon--lak' dis
one--listen!"

Then he drew the bow across the strings and dashed into a medley of the
jolliest airs imaginable.

The boy took to his instruction as kindly as could have been expected.
School interrupted it a good deal; and play with the other boys carried
him away often; but, after all, there was nothing that he liked much
better than to sit in the little cabin on a winter evening and pick out
a simple tune after his teacher. He must have had some talent for it,
too; for Jacques was very proud of his pupil, and prophesied great
things of him.

"You know dat little Billee of 'Ose Ransom," the fiddler would say to a
circle of people at the hotel, where he still went to play for parties;
"you know dat small Ransom boy? Well, I 'm tichin' heem play de feedle;
an' I tell you, one day he play better dan hees ticher. Ah, dat 's
gr-r-reat t'ing, de museek, ain't it? Mek' you laugh, mek' you cry, mek'
you dance! Now, you dance. Tek' your pardnerre. EN AVANT! Kip' step to
de museek!"

IV

Thirty years brought many changes to Bytown. The wild woodland
flavour evaporated out of the place almost entirely; and instead of an
independent centre of rustic life, it became an annex to great cities.
It was exploited as a summer resort, and discovered as a winter resort.
Three or four big hotels were planted there, and in their shadow a score
of boarding-houses alternately languished and flourished. The summer
cottage also appeared and multipli