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mitted to accompany her father. One bright morning, late in August, the neat, trim little sloop of Monsieur De Vere came in sight of that now famous and impregnable city, Quebec. Adele, standing on the deck of her father's vessel, gazed on the scene with all the enthusiasm and delight characteristic of her youth and nationality. Quebec was then but a village, a frontier post; but its magnificent scenery was as picturesque and grandly sublime in that day as at present. The elevated promontory of table land, which forms the right bank of the St. Lawrence, with its precipitous face, but declining gradually to the St. Charles; Cape Diamond, with its crystal quartz glittering in the sun; Point Levi, the Island of Orleans, and the little town, with its quaint old towers, forts and cathedrals, with the historic plains of Abraham far in the background, formed a picture well calculated to fill the beautiful girl with enthusiasm.

The river was full of the quaint little crafts of the voyageurs and Coureurs des Bois, gliding hither and thither, filling the air with the melody of their song. The popular air of the French voyageur fell for the first time on Adele's ears, and distance lending softness to the harsh voices of the musicians, she eagerly drank in the following words:

« Tout les printemps

Tout de nouvelles

Tout les amants
Changent de maitresses
Jamais le bon vin ni endort
L'amour me réveille.”

"Tout les amants

Changent de maitresses
Qu'ils changent qui voudront
Pour moi je garde la mienne
Le bon vin ni endort
L'amour me réveille.”

The song seemed to have a strange effect on the beautiful creature, and, with her great soft eyes raised to the citadel so far above as to seem among the clouds, she repeated the last strain:

L'amour me réveille.

She was only sixteen and had never had a lover; but her young and tender heart was as susceptible as wax. The expressions of love by those rude voyageurs made their impression on the girl, and she was lost in thought, when her father told her they were going to disembark. She looked up and saw only the great, frowning rocks and houses like flakes of snow among the hills, while those historic heights, the plains of Abraham, had disappeared behind the frowning cliffs.

“We are going ashore, Adele,” he said. “I am ready, father,” she answered.

From one of the dragon-like castles on the bluffs above, there issued a white wreath of smoke, and

the boom of a cannon went crashing and echoing among the distant hills and valleys along the river. This was a salute, acknowledging their arrival, given in answer to the dipping of their ensign.

They landed and began the rugged ascent, by no means an easy task. At last they were at the lower edge of the town, a lot of straggling houses within a fortified enclosure. Some of the buildings, seeming to rebel at the narrow confines of the fort, had broken from their bounds and strayed beyond the enclosure. The State houses were large and comfortable; but, for the most part, Quebec was composed of wretched huts.

The people were as motley and dissimilar in costume as the houses in appearance. While the gentlemen preserved the garb of the age of Louis XIV., the peasants wore long surtouts, sashes, red caps, and deer-skin moccasins. This singular mixture of costume was made more strange by the Indians loitering around the fort, the French soldiers, with blue coats, turned up with white facings, and short clothes, and the number of Jesuits and priests, with their long sable gowns, black bands, beads and rosaries.

Through this motley throng, Pierre De Vere and his daughter made their way, accompanied by two servants bearing their small luggage, going directly toward the State-house in which Governor Vaudreuil was at that moment holding a consultation on the threatened attack of the British.

[graphic][subsumed][subsumed]

PIERRE DE VERE AND HIS DAUGHTER ON THE WAY TO SEE

GOVERNOR VAUDREUIL.

“ Whom do you wish to see?” demanded the pompous officer of the guard, as Pierre De Vere

and his daughter appeared in front of the Statehouse.

“I wish to see Governor Vaudreuil,” was the answer.

The officer shook his head and responded:

“You cannot be admitted to-day. The gov. ernor is very busy, Monsieur, and will see no

one."

“He will see me.” “I beg the pardon of Monsieur; he will not.”

By this time a group of Indians and half-breeds were gathered about the Acadian and his daughter, gazing on them in half savage wonder and bewilderment. Adele clung to her father's arm, trembling with fear, and whispered:

“He won't see us, father. Let us go away.”

Pierre De Vere was not to be so easily put off; besides, if they did not go to the governor, where would they go?

“Be not alarmed, daughter; they will not harm you,” he said to Adele; then, turning to the officer, he asked: “Will you inform the governor of our arrival ?”

“It will be of no use, monsieur. He is very much engaged.”

“Will you tell him Pierre De Vere, from Grand Pre, Acadia, is waiting ?”

“Pierre De Vere,” said the officer, starting and

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