ien penser qu'il se destine
A des dangers;
Mille fois a ses yeux la mort
Prend son image,
Mille fois il maudit son sort
Dans le cours du voyage.

Quand tu seras dans les portages,
Pauvre engage,
Les sueurs te couleront dea visages
Pauvre afflige,
Loin de jurer, si tu me crois,
Dans ta colere,
Pense a Jesus portant sa croix--
Il a monte au Calvaire!

What words were these--to be sung at a mixed concert in a summer hotel
in the primitive village of St. Ignace? Ringfield knew enough French
to follow them, and as the minor plainsong of the melody floated
through the hall, he saw Miss Clairville's eyes filling with tears
where she sat in the front at one side awaiting her turn. She had
often spoken to him of the beautiful national music of her
province--this was the first time he had heard it. But quickly now
followed Poussette with a solo on the concertina, in which his fat body
laboured to and fro, and his fat hands plunged the instrument to one
side, then to the other, while his broad smile and twinkling eyes first
pleased, then convulsed the audience. After him came Miss Clairville,
and Ringfield, nervously reading out the title of the song, did not
observe how she was dressed until she had reached the platform and had
greeted her audience. The black and scarlet garb so familiar to him
was now accompanied by a smart little jacket of red worn rather
queerly, since one arm only was thrust in and the empty sleeve caught
up in some way he did not understand, while on her head she wore a kind
of arch hussar's cap. It was evident that her selection was familiar
to some in the audience, those who had seen her as "La Grande Duchesse
de Gerolstein" in Montreal, and a few who had attended similar
functions to the present.

"It's only an old turn of mine," she managed to whisper to Ringfield,
"but they all like it. Le Sabre de Mon Pere--I never tire singing it
myself. You look stupid enough this minute to be my Fritz--but
there--you do not understand!"

The accompaniment was played on the American organ, moved for that
occasion up to the platform, but even that could not detract from the
passionate pride and fire with which Miss Clairville rendered that
spirited song, so far removed from opera "bouffe" or "comic" opera;
indeed the noble character of the first strain was considerably
enhanced by the church-like quality of the accompaniment. So far
Ringfie