adieu, Mere Jeanne! adieu, la France! but you, _mes enfants_;
why do _you_ cry?"

FOOTNOTES:

[1]
There were three sailor-lads of Groix,
There were three sailor-lads of Groix,
They sailed in the Saint Francois,
Tra la derira, etc.

[2] Little Marie, Mother Jeanne! Little Marie who loves you.

CHAPTER III.

I WAS twelve years old when my mother died. She had no illness, or none
that we had known of; the sweet soul of her slipped away in the night
like a bird, and left the body smiling asleep. We never knew what ailed
her; people did not torment themselves in those days with the "how" of a
thing. There may have been talk behind the village doors, but my father
never asked. She was gone, and his heart was gone with her, my poor
father. She was all the joy of his life, and he never had any more; I
never remember seeing him smile after that time. What gave him the best
comfort was trying to keep things pretty and bright, as she liked to see
them. He was neat as a woman, and he never allowed a speck of dust on
the chairs, or a withered leaf on the geraniums. He never would let me
touch her flowers, but I was set to polish the pewter and
copper,--indeed, my mother had taught me that,--and he watched jealously
lest any dimness come on them. I sometimes wondered at all this, as he
had so lately counted these matters of adornment and prettiness and such
as less than nothing, and vanity, as the preacher has it. But I think
his great grief put a sacredness, as it were, over everything that had
been hers, and all her ways seemed heavenly to him now, even though he
had frowned at them (never at her, Melody, my dear! never at her!) when
she was still with him.

My father wished me to help him in the farm work, but I had no turn for
that. I was growing up tall and weedy, and most like my strength went
into that. However it was, there was little of it for farming, and less
liking. Father Jacques made up his mind that I was no good for anything,
but Abby Rock stood up for me.

"The boy is not strong enough for farming, Jacques!" she said. "He's
near as tall as you, now, and not fifteen yet. Put him to learn a trade,
and he'll be a credit to you."

So I was put to learn shoemaking, and a good trade it has been to me all
my life. The shoemaker was a kind old man, who had known me from a baby,
and he contrived to make my work easy for me,--seeing I took kindly to
it,--and often let me have the afte