FOOTNOTE:

two girls and man in park"'ARE YOU GOING TO THE CITADEL IN ONE OF THOSE FUNNY CALÊCHE THINGS?'"

"'ARE YOU GOING TO THE CITADEL IN ONE OF THOSE FUNNY CALÊCHE THINGS?'"

"Oh!" she said, "are you going to the Citadel in one of those funny calêche things? I am crazy to ride in one. I want to go in one that has a yellow lining. Father says I would look like a fried egg if I got into one of that color." Monsieur Tremblent had always liked this little girl when she visited his farm, so he said: "If you will get permission from your people, you shall ride with us this morning. We will be three fried eggs."

While Monsieur Tremblent was making a bargain with a calêche driver, little Helen Sage was rushing about the Hotel Frontenac to find some of her family and leave word with themwhere she was going. At last, having found all the bedrooms empty, she went to the desk and wrote on a telegraph blank,—"Have gone to the Citadel with the Melon family. Yours, Helen." This she tucked under her mother's bedroom door, and with a light heart skipped out to join her little friend.

When you come to think of it, both these little girls are little Quebec cousins, so it is like having two heroines to a story! Oisette knew well the early history of this wonderful walled city. The French achievements, and the names of the early Jesuits who suffered and worked among the Indians. And Helen Sage knew well the English side of the story: how General Wolfe had climbed with his army up the steep cliff and surprised Montcalm on the Plains of Abraham and captured all of Canada for the English. So Monsieur Tremblent found it very interesting to listen to their comments as they walked about inside the picturesqueCitadel. Helen knew the age and history of the chain gate by which they entered. She knew, too, which of the cannon had been captured by the British at Bunker Hill. She patted it and said: "It is the nicest cannon here, isn't it? Father says, 'They have the hill but we've got the cannon'!"

The result of this trip was very interesting. Helen insisted on taking Oisette in their motor the next morning all over the city of Quebec, until she knew every bit of it externally. The St. Louis Gate, named by Cardinal Richelieu after his Royal Master, Louis XIV of France; the Dufferin Gate, named from one of the earlier Governor Generals of Canada, the Earl of Dufferin, a most popular Irishman, who helped blend the two nationalities in a wonderful manner. A fascinating old curiosity shop in an old house that was once the town house of the Duke of Kent. She pointed out all the tablets and the headquarters and the gravesof the famous warriors of olden times. And, in her turn, Oisette took Helen to see "Notre Dame des Victories," the oldest church in this country, built as Champlain directed. She showed her the sign of the Golden Dog, and read to her the inscription:

"Je suis un chien qui ronge l'osEn le rongeant je prends mon repos,Un jour viendra, qui n'est pas venu,Que je mordrai qui m'aura mordu."

Translated this reads:

"I am the dog that gnaws his boneI crouch and gnaw it all alone,A time will come, which is not yet,When I'll bite him by whom I'm bit."

There is a tablet in gold on a plain bare frontage. A dog gnawing a bone, the dog is couchant (lying down), the bone is that of a man's thigh-bone! Madame Tremblent had told Oisette the interesting legend of Le Chien D'or. It had its origin in the mercenary practices of the last Intendant of Quebec under theFrench régime—Intendant means a "City Manager" of modern times. This wicked one's name was Bigot. At a time when food was very scarce indeed, and ships from France bringing provisions to her colony were delayed by wind and weather, Bigot gathered from poor farmers all the grain and food stuffs he could lay hands on and stored them in a building close to his palace, and when the time was ripe and a famine at hand he planned to sell back all this food to the poor farmers who had raised it, and to charge them a very big price. The building where he stored all his goods became known as La Frippone—"The cheat."

Now, among the merchants of Quebec at that time was a man named Nicholas Jaquin, he was rich and yet he was generous. He had also a great warehouse on top of Mountain hill, where the Quebec post office now stands. He decided also to gather grain and foodstuffs and to sell them at the lowest possible priceto the poor. Naturally, when the Intendant found he was being undersold he was very angry, he tried in every way to punish his enemy, who over his door put this sign of the Golden Dog, and the people all understood, but were afraid to show too much sympathy, as Bigot had been appointed by the King of France.

Finally, the Intendant caused his enemy to be slain in the streets of Quebec—the actual assassin escaped for a time, but the murdered man's son tracked him to far off Pondicherry and struck his father's slayer down—the story ends there.

They also visited the Ursuline Convent, which has associations artistic and martial as well as religious.

There is a votive lamp, lighted one hundred and seventy years ago by two French officers, who came to attend the ceremony of their two sisters taking the veil, which means that theseyoung ladies became nuns and never lived outside the convent walls again.

That lamp was to be kept burning forever—it was out for a short time during the siege of 1759; then it was relighted, and for well over one hundred years was never dimmed.

This chapel also contained paintings sent over from France for safe keeping at the time of the French Revolution; and generally supposed to be by great artists, such as Vandyke and Campana; but even though they may be but copies they are very well worth seeing.

The great General Montcalm was taken to this convent to die, and was buried within the precincts in a grave dug for him by a bursting shell.

They also went to the Champlain market and to the Convent of the Good Shepherd, where the nuns dress always in white, and never cease their prayers day nor night; every six hours they change vigils, but always, always,there are some of them there before the altar, and one each side of the steps of the high altar.

Grandmother Tremblent took a great interest in this friendship, though she did not always appear in person she directed many of the excursions and answered all of Oisette's questions.

The very first day Oisette arrived she had asked about Richelieu, and almost every day thereafter she had learned some new fact; she had a good memory, and when she got back home she would remember to tell her mother about the great boat by which she had traveled, and the picture, life-sized, of the Cardinal in his red robes, who had been Minister of State during the reign of King Louis XIV of France; in fact Grandma had said he was the true founder of the city of Quebec, for in 1627 he had revoked the Charter of De Caen, a Huguenot merchant, and had organized a companyof one hundred associates, himself the head. The colonists were to be given lands and were to send all their furs to France and France was to send food to them, so that they would not have to do much farm work, but made fur peltries their sole industry. It was a niece of the great Cardinal Richelieu who by her charity and her gifts founded some of the early societies that existed in the city of Quebec.

On the last day of Oisette's stay with her grandmother, Helen Sage came for tea in this quaint old house and admired Napoleon, the canary and the fancy work. She was pleased, too, with the quaint old furniture; a prie-dieu chair in Oisette's bedroom particularly took her fancy, the seat of this chair was very low, not more than a foot from the ground, and when lifted up revealed a little shelf for devotional books, and a devout person could kneel on this seat, facing the back of the chair, andthe top of the chair back was made flat and wide to hold the open book.

In the dining-room was a beautiful mahogany sideboard. "Oh, please, has it a history?" asked Helen. "It is very ancient, my child," Madame answered. "In fact it was for years stored in my grandfather's barn under some hay, left there by an English officer who was recalled home. He told my people that some day he would come for it, but he never did, and at last the old barn was to be torn down, so my father gave the furniture to me."

There was also a glass cupboard, and desk, but all that Madame was inclined to say about them was that they were ancient—very ancient.

Some years ago, collectors of the antique went thoroughly over the Province of Quebec, and, where it was possible, purchased the best examples of furniture and china and ornaments, which had been brought from France by the old Régime. The furniture of that day wasthe most magnificent of all the French period. A few examples of the work of Andrew Boule found their way to the New World. He was the King's Cabinet Maker and was a great ebonist (a worker in ebony) inlaying his work, gilding it, bronzing it—anything to make it very splendid.

When tea was over, Grandmother Tremblent told them the story of Madeleine Verchères. Most of the historians and the novelists and the poets of Canada have told and retold this true tale of a little French Canadian girl of fourteen, who was left one summer day with her two brothers in the care of two soldiers and one old man, while her father, the Seigneur of Verchères, journeyed to Quebec.

Madeleine was out on a hillside gathering wild strawberries when she heard a shot ring out far down the valley and going to the top of the hill her young eyes could see a band of Iroquois riding swiftly over the plain towardher father's fort. So she sent the two soldiers to the block house to guard the women and children of the estate, then she and her brothers under cover of the dusk prepared dummies and placed them behind the walls; then, to further deceive the savages, she and her brothers patroled the fort through the night and called out "C'est bien," (All is well) so that the Iroquois supposed the fort to be fully garrisoned, and though they lingered about for a time they did not dare attack.

The next morning her father returned, and having learned that savages had been through the valley, brought a party of soldiers with him, expecting to find his home in ruins and his children kidnapped; instead of that a tired, hungry group of children greeted him with "C'est bien."

"So, you see, heroism was not confined to the men alone," said Grandmother Tremblent. "It was as it is now in modern days, the women and even young girls who must be very brave."

FOOTNOTE:[2]This is the way Oisette sang the National Anthem:"Dieu protégé le RoiEn lui nous avons foiVive le Roi.Qu'il soit victorieuxEt que son peuple heureuxLe comble de ses voeuxVive le Roi."

[2]This is the way Oisette sang the National Anthem:"Dieu protégé le RoiEn lui nous avons foiVive le Roi.Qu'il soit victorieuxEt que son peuple heureuxLe comble de ses voeuxVive le Roi."

[2]This is the way Oisette sang the National Anthem:

"Dieu protégé le RoiEn lui nous avons foiVive le Roi.Qu'il soit victorieuxEt que son peuple heureuxLe comble de ses voeuxVive le Roi."

Finallythe day came when Oisette must say good-by to Quebec, to grandmother, to ancient Carleau, to Napoleon, to the yellow canary, and then pay a last visit to the Terrace, and say good-by to everything there. The lovely view, the harbor boats, the statue of Champlain, the beautiful Château Frontenac, the band, and last, but not least, to the little Sage girl, who had been so friendly to her.

All these things would soon be memories, banked in her mind forever and ever. Monsieur Tremblent and Oisette returned to Montreal by rail, leaving the ancient walled city soon after the noontime, and, journeying back by a fast express, they reached the Place Vigerrailway station at six o'clock. Oisette proved to be a very good traveler. She enjoyed the view, she did not jump down from her seat and tear about as some other children were doing, but sat as her father had told her, and counted or tried to, the trees as they flew past. Sometimes she hummed softly her favorite song:

"Alouette, gentille Alouette, Alouette Je te plumerai,Je te plumerai la tête, Je te plumerai la tête,O Alouette, gentille Alouette, Alouette Je te plumerai."

A very pleasant surprise was when they reached Montreal, and her father decided to stop at the Place Viger Hotel for a meal before they should take the trolley home. For, to tell the truth, Oisette was very hungry indeed, and so was her father.

Presently they were seated at a little table out on a beautiful stone balcony, with pretty striped awnings, potted plants, where there wasan orchestra of young ladies, all dressed in white, who played delightful music. The young lady at the piano kept smiling at Oisette. It was a new experience for our little Quebec cousin to have a full course dinner, served so beautifully, and to have pink ice cream. Do you know that ice cream is almost unknown in aHabitanthome? To be sure, French children on the streets of Montreal have recently acquired "the ice cream cone habit"; but vendors of these sweets do not peddle their wares out in the country. Oisette ate her dessert slowly, her dark eyes followed the waiter as he came and went, and now and then she would glance over at the pianist.

When the meal was finished and they were about to depart, to her great surprise, as they passed near the piano, she heard a voice say, "Bon soir, Oisette." Monsieur Tremblent stopped, too, and shook hands with several of the musicians; and Oisette gasped with surprise,for one of them was a cousin of Oisette's mother. This orchestra was composed originally of the members of one family. Five sisters all trained by the nuns at the Sacred Heart convent. In three years' time three of the sisters had married and in each case the gap had been filled by another pupil from this same convent. They were still known as the five sisters, and they still dressed exactly alike. The one who had addressed Oisette was the newest member of the little company. Only the winter previous, at the convent, our little Quebec cousin had played a duet with this Mlle. Archambeau, and had done her part so well that one of the nuns had said to her, "We shall hear of our little Oisette on the concert stage some day."

During the five minutes' rest accorded this hotel orchestra these girls chatted like magpies with the travelers, and sent messages to the other members of the family, and said theyhoped to get out to the melon farm some day during the summer, and warned Oisette that she must practice well on the piano, so that she might some day play another duet with her friend. Then the leader tapped his baton and the voices ceased. But the cousin whispered to Monsieur Tremblent: "We are going to play 'The Rosary' now. You'll hear it as you go down in the elevator."

When the-round-the-mountain car stopped at Cote-des-Neiges that night, Monsieur Tremblent and his little daughter alighted in the dusk. They planned to surprise the household. By crossing a meadow they approached the house from the rear, and thought it would be great fun to slip into the kitchen in the darkness and leave their parcels, and then perhaps take off their wraps. Oisette wondered if she might manage to be discovered playing the piano. The French Canadian loves a practical joke.

But it happened that some one in a motorcar passed the trolley in which the returned travelers were journeying and the motor stopped at the Tremblent farm about ten minutes before the car was due, and, of course, the visitors said whom they had seen. So Madame Tremblent was ready with every room lighted, and doors open, and Carleau was barking his head off with excitement. The Dudley children were tearing up the road, calling out, "Welcome home!" On the stove was a big pot of pea soup very hot, and on the table a big bunch of field daisies, which the Dudleys had brought early in the day. The big parlor lamp with its red shade was lighted, which meant that it was a very special occasion. Everybody gazed in surprise at Oisette. She certainly had grown a little taller, and she had a nice little manner, which quite unconsciously she had acquired from her grandmother. She forgot her shyness and told them everything; from the time she had left home until to-night when she had dinedat the Place Viger. No pea soup to-night, thank you!

When at last she went to bed she gazed about her own room with a new interest. The room seemed smaller than she had thought it before, but her pictures were so pretty. Nowhere had she seen anything she liked as well as her Joan of Arc banner wrought in silk. And there was her own bedspread again, "the music of the spheres," placed there in honor of her return.

"Chime, chime, chime, chime," rang the church bell next morning. This was the bell that had awakened our little Quebec cousin since her birth. It sounded like an old friend, but what a funny, feeble little bell it was after the great tongues of the Quebec bells to which her ears had become attuned.

Presently she heard the popping noise of firecrackers, and Carleau barking madly in the door yard: and she remembered that it was July first, Dominion Day, a legal holiday allover the great country of Canada since 1867. There would be no work done by the English, and the trolley cars would bring numerous picnic parties out to the countryside: and the Dudley family were going to have great doings. They had tried to tell her about it last night, but her mind was still centered on Quebec.

By the time she had finished her breakfast and was out in the morning sunshine, she gazed with rapture at the Dudley's house. First of all, the Union Jack was flying from a tall flag staff, then the piazza was draped with red, white, and blue; all the posts were wound with red, and strings of Chinese lanterns were dancing in the wind. She was told that there was to be a children's party and she was to come over to it, and they would like her to sing a little song, as there was to be an entertainment with the piazza for a stage. "You are to sing in French. Our governess says that will make a pleasing variety," explained the children.

"Here is what I am to recite," demonstrated Queenie Dudley, making a deep bow toward Oisette:

"Four fingers, a thumb, on each little hand;Make five jolly holidays all through the land,Victoria Day comes first, Dominion Day with its noise,Then Thanksgiving and Christmas for girls and for boys,Then comes the New Year, brimful of good cheer,Merry Christmas to all and a Happy New Year."

"But that is not suited to the summertime," objected her brother. "Father taught you that for a Christmas party. You should have learned a new one by this time."

"Bosh," said young Queenie, "you always recite the same old thing, every party we have or go to. You just make your bow and say:

"Speaking pieces. What's the use, I'd like to know?Getting up before so many when it scares a fellow so!"

Presently the piano was moved close to the window, and the governess played some tunesand told the children to let her hear them sing.

They all joined in with a will, and sang "The Maple Leaf, the Maple Leaf Forever"; and "Oh, Canada." When they had sung this once through in English, she coaxed Oisette Mary to repeat it alone in French, which she did in a very winning manner. All day long on Dominion Day these children romped together. Oisette felt it was good to be home with her dear little neighbors again; and when at last, tired out after the party, she went home and nestled down in her little bed she said an extra little prayer of gratitude to Our Lady for giving her such a happy first day home, and then, tucking the rosary under her pillow, she was soon asleep.

Oisette, like so many little French Canadian girls who are convent trained, will become proficient with her needle, she will play the piano, she will always greet one with a pretty bowand a soft shy voice should one come to visit her in this wonderful great land of Canada.

The Province of Quebec is not all French, there are little girls with a Scotch accent, and there are those with an English accent, and in Ontario there are those very like American children. But perhaps the French Canadian child with her quaint little ways in her humble home proves far the most interesting to the traveler, and her simple life teaches every one who knows her a lesson of obedience and contentment.

"Chime-Chime-Chime-Chime"—yes, the story ends here, but the bells still call and call little Oisette to awake, to come to prayers, to attend vespers—"Chime-Chime-Chime-Chime."

Our little Quebec cousin bows her head when she hears them "Chime-Chime-Chime-Chime"—and life goes on.

THE END

Selections fromThe Page Company'sBooks for Young People

THE BLUE BONNET SERIES

Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume$1.50

A TEXAS BLUE BONNET

ByCaroline E. Jacobs.

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BLUE BONNET'S RANCH PARTY

ByCaroline E. Jacobs and Edyth Ellerbeck Read.

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BLUE BONNET IN BOSTON;Or, Boarding-School Days at Miss North's.

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BLUE BONNET KEEPS HOUSE;Or, The New Home in the East.

ByCaroline E. Jacobs and Lela Horn Richards.

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BLUE BONNET—DÉBUTANTE

ByLela Horn Richards.

An interesting picture of the unfolding of life for Blue Bonnet.

THE YOUNG PIONEER SERIES

ByHarrison AdamsEach 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume$1.25

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE OHIO;Or, Clearing the Wilderness.

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THE PIONEER BOYS ON THE GREAT LAKES;Or, On the Trail of the Iroquois.

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THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE COLUMBIA;Or, In the Wilderness of the Great Northwest.

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THE HADLEY HALL SERIES

ByLouise M. BreitenbachEach large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume$1.50

ALMA AT HADLEY HALL

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THE GIRLS OF FRIENDLY TERRACE

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PEGGY RAYMOND'S VACATION

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PEGGY RAYMOND'S SCHOOL DAYS

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FAMOUS LEADERS SERIES

ByCharles H. L. JohnstonEach large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume$1.50

FAMOUS CAVALRY LEADERS

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FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN AND HEROES OF THE BORDER

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HILDEGARDE-MARGARET SERIES

ByLaura E. RichardsEleven Volumes

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LIST OF TITLES

THE CAPTAIN JANUARY SERIES

ByLaura E. RichardsEach one volume, 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume60 cents

CAPTAIN JANUARY

A charming idyl of New England coast life, whose success has been very remarkable.

SAME.Illustrated Holiday Edition$1.35

MELODY:The Story of a Child.

MARIE

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ROSIN THE BEAU

A sequel to "Melody" and "Marie."

SNOW-WHITE;Or, The House in the Wood.

JIM OF HELLAS;Or, In Durance Vile, and a companion story,Bethesda Pool.

NARCISSA

And a companion story,In Verona, being two delightful short stories of New England life.

"SOME SAY"

And a companion story,Neighbors in Cyrus.

NAUTILUS

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ISLA HERON

This interesting story is written in the author's usual charming manner.

THE LITTLE MASTER

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DELIGHTFUL BOOKS FOR LITTLEFOLKS

ByLaura E. Richards

THREE MINUTE STORIES

Cloth decorative, 12mo, with eight plates in full color and many text illustrations $1.35

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FIVE MINUTE STORIES

Cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated $1.35

A charming collection of short stories and clever poems for children.