or landing at the
pier.

CHAPTER II.

THE YOUNG SEIGNEUR.

A young man stepped forward and greeted him heartily. It was the
"Chamilly" Haviland of whom they had been speaking.

Mr. Chrysler and he were members together of the Dominion Parliament and
the present visit was the outcome of a special purpose. "It is a pity
the rest of the country does not know my people more closely," Haviland
wrote in his invitation:--"If you will do my house the honor of your
presence, I am sure there is much of their life to which we could
introduce you."

"I am delighted you arrive at this time;" he exclaimed. "My election is
coming." And he talked cheerfully and busied himself making the visitor
comfortable in his drag.

As luck will have it, the enactment of one of the old local customs
occurs as they sit waiting for room to drive off the pier. The rustic
gathering of Lower-Canadian _habitants_ who are crowding it with their
native ponies and hay-carts and their stuff-coated, deliberate persons,
is beginning to break apart as the steamer swings heavily away. The
pedestrians are already stringing off along the road and each jaunty
Telesphore and Jacques, the driver of a horse, leaps jovially into his
cart; but all the carts are halting a moment by some curious common
accord. Why is this?

Suddenly a loud voice shouts:

"MALBROUCK IS DEAD!"

A pause follows.

"_It is not true_" one forcibly contradicts.

"Yes, he is dead!" reiterates the first.

"It is not true!" insists the other.

"He is dead and in his bier!"

The second is incredulous:

"You but tell me that to jeer?"

But the crowd who have been smiling gleefully over the proceedings,
affect to resign themselves to the bad news of Malbrouck's death, and
all altogether groan in hoarse bass mockery:

"CA VA MA-A-A-L!!"[B]

Every one immediately dashes off in all haste, whips crack, wheels fly,
and shouting, racing and singing along all the roads, the country-folk
rattle away to their homes. Our two turn their wheels towards the
Manor-house, gleefully amused.

[Footnote B: That is bad!]

"Who is Malbrouck?" Chrysler enquired.

"Marlborough. That must have been originally enacted in the French camps
that fought him in Flanders. I fancy the soldiers of Montcalm shouting
it at night among their tents here as they held the country against the
English."

They drove along looking about the country and conversing. Chrysler
breathed in the fresh draught