ed its possibilities in grand vistas. The people were spell-bound
by noble hopes and emotions which carried them upward. Involuntarily, as
Chrysler looked at his face and bearing, he was reminded of the
prophets, and the old white church behind seemed to be rising and
throwing back its head, and withdrawing its thoughts into some proud
region of the great and supernatural. The old man forgot the crowd and
the crowd totally forgot Chrysler:

"Canadians!" Chamilly closed, his figure drawn up like a hero's and his
rich voice sounding the name again with that wonderful utterance, "the
memories of our race are compatible only with the good of the world and
our country. If you are unwilling to accept me on this basis, do not
elect me, for I will only express my convictions."

CHAPTER XXX.

AN ORATION UNDER DIFFICULTIES.

"On high in yonder old church tower,
* * * * *
The ancient bell rings out the hour,
Sometimes with voice of wondrous power."

--JOHN BREAKENRIDGE.

Monsieur Editor Quinet mounted the platform and stood there, cool and
masterful.

At the same moment the Cure in his black gown, bolted up from his chair
beside his young vicar, on the gallery of the parsonage, and regarding
the orator with indignation, raised his breviary towards the church with
outstretched arm.

"Messieurs, what ruins us".... Quinet commenced.

His sentence was shattered to pieces!

"KLING-KLANG-G-G-G!" a loud church bell resounded from one of the
towers, sending a visible shock over the assembly and drowning the
succeeding words.

"What ruins us".... Quinet, with imperturbable composure, commenced
again in a louder voice.

A cashing peal from the opposite belfry replied to the first and
compelled him to stop.

The Cure, swelling with triumph, marched up and down his gallery,
turning quickly at each end; while the bells of both the towers,
swinging confusedly in their belfries, sent forth one horrible continued
torrent of clangor over the amazed crowd.

The speaker was soon convinced that no amount of cool waiting would
prevail. He did, therefore, what was a more keenly effective
continuation of his sentence than any words,--raised his finger and
pointed it steadily for a few moments at the Cure, and then withdrew.

For many a day the story of Quinet and the bells was told in
Dormilliere.

CHAPTER XXXI.

LIBERGENT.

During the addresses, Libergent, Chamilly