bars the door Satan will never enter, nor the English either!
Do you hear, men?" continued he, turning to his censitaires, "my Lord
Bishop christens our battery Beauport, and says it will stand fire!"

"Vive le Roi!" was the response, an exclamation that came spontaneously
to the lips of all Frenchmen on every emergency of danger or emotion of
joy.

A sturdy habitan came forward, and doffing his red tuque or cap,
addressed the Governor: "This is a good battery, my Lord Governor, but
there ought to be one as good in our village. Permit us to build one and
man it, and we promise your Excellency that no Englishman shall ever get
into the back door of Quebec while we have lives to defend it." The old
habitan had the eye of a soldier--he had been one. The Governor knew the
value of the suggestion, and at once assented to it, adding, "No better
defenders of the city could be found anywhere than the brave habitans of
Beauport."

The compliment was never forgotten; and years afterwards, when Wolfe
besieged the city, the batteries of Beauport repelled the assault of his
bravest troops, and well-nigh broke the heart of the young hero over the
threatened defeat of his great undertaking, as his brave Highlanders and
grenadiers lay slain by hundreds upon the beach of Beauport.

The countenances of the hardy workers were suddenly covered with smiles
of welcome recognition at the sight of the well-known Superior of the
Recollets.

"Good morning!" cried out a score of voices; "good morning, Father de
Berey! The good wives of Beauport send you a thousand compliments.
They are dying to see the good Recollets down our way again. The Gray
Brothers have forsaken our parish."

"Ah!" replied the Superior, in a tone of mock severity, while his eyes
overran with mirthfulness, "you are a crowd of miserable sinners who
will die without benefit of clergy--only you don't know it! Who was it
boiled the Easter eggs hard as agates, which you gave to my poor brother
Recollets for the use of our convent? Tell me that, pray! All the salts
and senna in Quebec have not sufficed to restore the digestion of my
poor monks since you played that trick upon them down in your misnamed
village of Beauport!"

"Pardon, Reverend Father de Berey!" replied a smiling habitan, "it was
not we, but the sacrilegious canaille of St. Anne who boiled the Easter
eggs! If you don't believe us, send some of the good Gray Friars down
to try our love. See if they do not fin