dollars-ef I had it-right now ef Steve on'y had a nobler shape an' some git-up to him, jes for de passage up de island o' de chuch. Hit's worse 'n a cake-walk, de way our folks passes remarks on bridal couples when dey step up in chu'ch. An' po' little Lucy she got her pa's build too; an' so Steve he say I sho is gwine be belle o' de weddin', ef I is gittin' ole an' got a yardful o' chillen. "Po' little Steve! When it come to a 'oman passin' heart-jedgmint on a man, I b'lieve pitifulness pleads for him stronger'n good looks-yas'm. Des de glimsh o' Steve's little slopeshouldered back when he'd cross de yard deze las' two weeks, an' his little bow-legs in dem white breeches-dem inside starched seams al'ays tickles him tur'ble-I 'clare, some days when I'd look at him my heart would be so teched dat, 'cep'n' for de lump in my th'oat, I'd 'a' called him in an' eased his mind. "Po' little Lucy! She had her hands full deze las' few weeks ironin' her pa's co'tin' outfit; an' she deserve to stan' bridesmaid to compliment her for her trouble-yas, she do." She leaned back in her chair and began rocking softly, and presently she said: All de chillen's in favor o' de weddin' -all dat kin talk, an' I mought as well say de rest too, 'caze de one wha' made up de riconcilemint she can't talk yit, on'y two or three words. But she knowed some'h'n' was wrong, Minervy did-" I had slipped into the room unobserved some moments before, and seeing her hesitate here, I said, "Go on, Salina, and tell us all about it." "Caze she gwine stan' bridesmaid, mistus--dat's de on'ies' reason. Yas'm, she gwine stan' up wid us, an' she's tickled all but to death over it. She's purty nigh fif- "I 'clare, Marse Joe!" She was really teen, I s'pec', an' hit'll be jes de same as embarrassed for a moment, seeing me comin' out in s'ciety. Yas'm, she gwine there, but it passed quickly, and she turnbe de bridesmaid, an' pull off my glove ed to me as she went on: "Well, hit was whilst her pa put de ring on my finger; dis-a-way, marster. You know de yether an' hit'll be a mighty good an' 'ligious day, time Minervy got th'owed off de canething for her to remember in after-years carrier, of co'se we-all 'lowed she was kilt; -yas'm. 'Tain't every yo'ng gal dat kin an' quick as her daddy heerd tell of it he ricollec' her pa an' ma gittin' married. come a-runnin' in an' snatch her off my Come to think it over, I s'pose I'll feel lap an' hol' her whilst we all dowsed her mo' cancelized in my min' when it's did wid cold water, an' ole Aunt Mimie helpan' over 'cordin' to de requi'emints. ed bring her th'ough wid mustard an' Sev'al couples wha' been th'ough it say prayer; an' I nuver said nothin', on'y set dey feels a heap mo' consolated in dey down on a stool by him an' moan in'ardhearts. ly, tell d'rec'ly she opened her little eyes "But, tell de trufe, missy, I'd give five-you know Minervy she got deze heah cunnin' little squir'l cross-eyes, jes like her pa-an' dat teched me. But look like my heart was so hardened I couldn't say nothin', jes set still. But quick as she open her eyes an' see her pa, what you reckon she done, an' her little collar-bone all fractioned too? She lif' her little arm up an' put it roun' her pa's neck, an' den she re'ch over wid de yether an' pull my face down to him, an' hol' us tight jes so-' She paused here and wiped her eyes. "I tell you, marster an' mistus, ef little Minervy, ef she had a died an' lef' me uncancelized wid 'er pa, I nuver would 'a' forgive myse'f on earth-never would. I'd 'a' took it for a heavenly vengeance on me-yas'm-yas, sir. dis mornin'. He got de dry grins so bad he's ashamed to come up to de house. You say whar is he? He out behin' de kitchen mindin' de chillen-'Nervy an' de twins. Look like de whole crowd's a-waitin' on 'im. "De fust thing I done when we got engaged over agin was to meck him go in an' teck off dem duck breeches an' put on some woollen clo'es. I b'lieve he's sneezed mo' sence he's started a-co'tin' 'n he's sneezed all his life. A cotin’man 'ain't got a bit o' sense. Well, I mus' go an' don't forgit de orange-flower wreath, mistus, an'- What dat you say? Yas, I know we mought git fresh flowers off de trees now, but- but but dey'd look mighty cheap, seem like. Hunt me up some real superficial rag flowers, please, ma'am. An' I'll be glad when it's all over. But after waitin' so long, for Gord sake, lemme git married right. I don't teck much stock in marryin', nohow. "But of co'se she see in a minute dat hit was all right 'twix' her pa an' me-de way we cried-an' she laugh a little weak laugh. For a while look like de whole yardful was cryin' under de mulberries-cryin', laughin', bofe togedder." She wiped her eyes again, and said "I wouldn't min' totin' a big bo'quet o' some really womanly things touching orange blossoms in my hand ef you sesso her life and its responsibilities-simple-wid a white ribbin on 'em-jes as you resolutions they were-wifely and mater- say. We gwine leave it all to you, missy, nal, which perhaps it were more delicate an' marster. Well, I'm gone. So long." to pass over in this light telling of her story, lest it seem a betrayal. But we liked her better for it. "Well, I mus' go," she said presently; "I mus' go to my cook-pots; an' I gwine leave de white frock an' de veil an' de wreath all to you, you say, missy? An' Lucy's frock too? Thanky, ma'am; thanky truly, ma'am. Lucy an' Steve will sho be proud when I tell 'em. But I does wish you could see Steve's face She had started out, and when she got to the door she burst out laughing. "For Gord sake, missy," she chuckled, "come heah an' look at Steve; jes look at him settin' in de baby's ca'iage, an' de whole crowd harnessed up draggin' him round de yard -- an' he grinnin' like a chessy cat. He sho is earned dat one ride. "How could I ever thought about sendin' 'im off!" and the wood - work popped with the cold. Down in the street the little Canadian horses, drawing their loads, were white with rime, while their irrepressible French drivers yelled at each other until we could hear them through the double windows. There is energy in this fierce Northern air. "Why Florida in winter? Why not Quebec?" said the old Yale stroke. "Yes, why not?" reiterated the Essex trooper. But the coziness of the château did not suggest the seriousness of our purpose. We wanted to get out on the snow-to get in the snow-to tempt its moods and feel its impulses. We wanted to feel the nip of that keen outside air, to challenge a contest with our woollens, and to ap propriate some of its energy. According ly we consulted a wise mind who sold snow shoes, blankets, moccasins, and socks, and he did a good business. "Shall we dress at St. Raymond or in the château?" said my companion, mindful of the severity of convention in New York, as he gazed on the litter of his new garments spread out on the floor of our room. "We will dress here, and leave so early that Quebec will not be out of bed until we are away; but if Quebec were awake and on the streets, Quebec would not turn its head to honor our strangeness with a glance, because it would see nothing new in us;" and dress we did. We only put on three pairs of socks and one pair of flannel-lined moccasins, but we were taught later to put on all we had. As the rich man said to the reporter, when trying to explain the magnitude of his coming ball,There will be ten thousand dollars' worth of ice-cream," so I say to you we had forty dollars' worth of yarn socks. We had bags of blankets, hunks of fresh beef and pork, which had to be thawed for hours before cooking, and potatoes in a gunny sack, which rattled like billiardballs, so hard were they frozen. We found great amusement on the train by rattling the bag of potatoes, for they were the hardest, the most dense things known to science. The French drivers of the burleaus who deposited us at the train took a cheery interest in our affairs; they lashed the horses, yelled like fiends, made the snow fly around the corners, nearly ran down an early policeman, and made 1s happy with the animation. They are rough children, amazingly politea product of paternalism-and comfortable folks to have around, only you must be careful not to let them succeed in their childish endeavor to drive their horses over you. Anyway, they cheered us off through the softly falling snow of that early winter morning, and made us feel less like strangers. At St. Raymond were the guides and little one-horse burleaus all ready for the trip to the "bush," or at least for the fifteen miles, which was as far as sleighs could go, up to old man O'Shannahan's, which is the first camp of the club. There were nearly four feet of snow on the ground, so that the regular road between the fences was drifted full, compelling the habitants to mark out another way with evergreen trees through their fields. Far apart over the white landscape are set the little French cottages, with their curved roofs. They are so cozily lonely, and the rough hills go up from the valley to further isolate them. Coming along the road we met the low hauling-sleds of the natives, who ran their horses off the road into the snow half way up their horses' sides; but the sledges were flat, and floated, as it were. Picturesque fellows, with tuques, red sashes, and fur coats, with bronzed faces, and whiskers worn under their chin, after the fashion of the early thirties. The Quebec habitants don't bother their heads about the new things, which is the great reason why ing, as I do, that all the game in America has in these latter days been forced into them, and realizing that to follow it the hunter must elevate himself over the highest tops, which process never became mixed in my mind with the poetry of mountain scenery. We essayed the snow-shoes- an art neglected by us three people since our boyhood days. It is like horseback-riding-one must be at it all the time if he is to feel comfortable. Snow - shoes must be understood, or they will not get along with you. Bebé Larette laughingly said, "Purty soon you mak de snow shoe go more less lak dey was crazee." Having arranged to haul the supplies into the "bush" next day, we lay down for the night in the warm cabin, tucked in and babied by our generous French guides. The good old Irishman, Mr. O'Shannahan, was the last to withdraw. "Mr. O'Shannahan, what do the French say for good-night'?" "Well, som' o' thim says Bung-sware.' and som' o' thim says 'Bung way';" but none of them, I imagine, say it just like Mr. O'Shannahan. With the daylight our hut began to abound with the activities of the coming day. A guide had a fire going, and Mr. O'Shannahan stood warming himself beside it. The Essex trooper, having reduced himself to the buff, put on an old pair of moccasins and walked out into the snow. The New Jersey thermometer which we had brought along may not have as yet gotten acclimated, but it solemnly registered 5° below zero. "Bebé, will you kindly throw a buck they are the most contented people in et of water over my back?" he asked; America. The faithful watch-dog barked at us from every cottage, and, after the manner of all honest house-dogs, charged us, with skinned lips and gleaming eye. We waited until they came near to the low-set burleau, when we menaced them with the whip, whereat they sprang from the hard road into the soft snow, going out of sight in it, where their floundering made us laugh loud and long. Dogs do not like to be laughed at, and it is so seldom one gets even with the way-side pup. At O'Shannahan's we were put up in the little club cabin and made comfortable. I liked everything in the country except the rough look of the hills, know but Bebé might as well have been asked to kindly shoot the Essex trooper with a gun, or to hit him with an axe. Bebé would have neither ice-water, rifle, nor axe on his pious soul. I knew the stern requirements of the morning bath, and dowsed him with the desired water, when he capered into the cabin and began with his crash towel to rub for the reaction. Seeing that Mr. O'Shannahan was perturbed, I said, "What do you think of that act?" "Oi think a mon is ez will aff be the soide av this stove as to be havin' the loikes av yez poor ice wather down his spoine." Mr. O'Shannahan reflected and hunched |