And when I see how Bargon shoulders stoop and his eye get dull, and there is nothing in the jar behin' the door, I fetch a horn with me, and my fiddle, and, bagosh! there is happy sit-you-down.

I make Bargon sing 'La Belle Francoise,' and then just before I go I make them laugh, for I stand by the cradle and I sing to that Marie: "'Adieu, belle Francoise; Allons gai! Adieu, belle Francoise! Moi, je to marierai, Ma luron lurette! Moi, je to marierai, Ma luron lure!' "So; and another year it go along, and Bargon he know that if there come bad crop it is good-bye-my lover with himselves.

He owe two hunder' and fifty dollar.

It is the spring at Easter, and I go up to him and Norinne, for there is no Mass, and Pontiac is too far away off.

We stan' at the door and look out, and all the prairie is green, and the sun stan' up high like a light on a pole, and the birds fly by ver' busy looking for the summer and the prairie-flower.
"'Bargon,' I say--and I give him a horn of old rye--'here's to le bon Dieu!' "'Le bon Dieu, and a good harvest!' he say.
"I hear some one give a long breath behin', and I look round; but, no, it is Norinne with a smile--for she never grumble--bagosh! What purty eyes she have in her head! She have that Marie in her arms, and I say to Bargon it is like the Madonne in the Notre Dame at Montreal.