ir," asked Edward, "what became of Louis
afterwards?"

"I really do not," replied the gentleman, smiling; "but I doubt not that
the man kept the promise of the heroic boy; and I think it extremely
probable that he has led some gallant fellows to those deeds of high
emprise which were achieved by the armies of Louis fourteenth."

"My dear children," said Mrs. Sackville, "you must really ask no more
questions. You will be good enough to pardon," she added, turning to the
stranger, "the eagerness of their youthful curiosity."

"Oh, madam," he replied, "the evidence of curiosity is the most grateful
reward to a story-teller, and I feel that my acknowledgements are due to
your children for their patient listening."

A few more courteous words passed, and the stranger bowed and departed.

"This was a lucky meeting, mother," said Edward; "this crazed leaning
wall looks quite interesting to me now. I can almost fancy I see
Marguerite and Louis issuing from the gate--Louis holding up the bow
and arrow that was to do such memorable service that night."

"You have had a good lesson this morning, my children, on the pleasures
of association. When we first saw that ruin, it looked to you like any
other stone wall--mere mason-work: and you, Julia, afraid of being
buried in its shadow, wondered what interest any one could feel in
looking at it; and now, I see you are venturing on the most tottering
part of it for a piece of moss, which I suppose is to be carefully
treasured in your herbal."

"Yes, mama, as a keep-sake for Marguerite and Louis."

* * * * *

We shall not condemn our readers to attend the travellers in their
tedious passage down the St. Lawrence. Sometimes a favoring breeze
filled the single sail of their little boat, and aided by the oars of
the lazy boatmen, wafted them gently forward, till, coming to a more
rapid descent in the river, their light vessel seemed urged on by an
irresistible force to the 'rapids,' where the waves, fretting and
foaming over the invisible rocks, threatened to engulph it. The boatmen
threw themselves prostrate on the bottom of the boat to avoid the
splashing of the waves; their oars lay useless beside them, while the
pilot strained every nerve to guide the boat in safety through the
perilous channel. These passages, like the brilliant events of life,
are rare and brief, and are succeeded by the sleepy lakes of the river,
bordered by shores