Chapter 3

He sit on de corner mos' every night, ole Phil-o-rum Juneau, Spik wit' hese'f an' shake de head, an' smoke on de pipe also-- Very hard job it's for wake him up, no matter de loud we call W'en he's feex hese'f on de beeg arm-chair, back on de kitchen wall.

He don't believe not'ing at all, at all 'bout lates' new fashion t'ing Le char 'lectrique an' de telephome, was talk w'en de bell she ring Dat's leetle too moche for de ole bonhomme, mak' him shake it de head an' say "Wat's use mak' de foolish lak dat, sapre! I'm not born only yesterday."

But if you want story dat's true, true, true, I tole you good wan moi-meme An de t'ing you was spik, dat I don't believe, for sure she was beat all dem. So he's cough leetle cough, clear 'im up de t'roat, fill hees pipe wit' some more tabac, An' w'en de chil'ren is come tranquille, de ole man begin comme ca.

L'enfant! l'enfant! it's very strange t'ing! mak' me laugh too w'en I hear De young peep talk of de long, long tam of seventy, eighty year! Dat's only be jus' eighty New Year Day, an' quickly was pass it by It's beeg, beeg dream, an' you don't wake up, till affer you're comin' die.

Dat's true sure enough, you see curi's t'ing, if you only leev leetle w'ile, So long you got monee go all de place, for mebbe t'ree t'ousan' mile, But monee's not everyt'ing on dis worl', I tole you dat, mes amis, An' man can be ole lak' two honder year, an' not see it, La Chasse Gal'rie.

I never forget de fine New Year night, nearly seexty year ago, W'en I'm lef' it our place for attend soiree, on ole Maxime Baribault, Nine mile away, I can see tin roof, on church of de St. Joseph, An' over de snow, de leaf dat die las' fall, was chasin' itse'f.

Dere was some of de neighbor house I call, dat's be de ole fashion style, An' very nice style too, mes amis, I hope she will las' long w'ile, I shak' it de han', I drink sante, an' kiss it de girl she's face, So it's come ten o'clock, w'en I pass on road, for visit Maxime hees place.

But I'm not go more mebbe t'ree arpent, w'en de sky is get black all roun', An' de win' she blow lak I never see, an' de beeg snowstorm come down. I mak' it my min' she's goin' be soon, de very bad night for true, Dat's locky I got plaintee whiskey lef', so I tak' it wan leetle "coup."

Purty quick affer dat, I'm comin' nice place, was stan'in' some fine beeg tree W'ere de snow don't dreef', an' it seem jus' lak dat place it is mak' for me, So I pass it on dere, for mak' safe mese'f, w'ile de storm is blow outside, As if all de devil on hell below, was tak' heem some fancy ride.

Wan red fox he's comin' so close, so close, I could ketch him wit' de han', But not on de tam lak dis ma frien', "Marche toi all de quick you can," Poor feller he's tire an' seem los' hees way, an' w'en he reach home dat night Mebbe he fin' it all was close up, an' de door it was fassen tight.

But w'at is dat soun' mak' de hair stan' up, w'at is it mean, dat cry? Comin' over de high tree top, out of de nor'-wes' sky Lak cry of de wil' goose w'en she pass on de spring tam an' de fall, But wil' goose fly on de winter night! I never see dat at all.

On, on t'roo de night, she is quickly come, more closer all de tam, But not lak de cry of some wil' bird now, don't seem it at all de sam'; An' den wit' de rush of de win', I hear somebody sing chanson An' de song dey sing is de ole, ole song, "Le Canayen Errant."'

But it's mak' me lonesome an' scare also, jus' sam' I be goin' for die W'en I lissen dat song on night lak dis, so far away on de sky, Don't know w'at to do at all mese'f, so I go w'ere I have good view, An' up, up above t'roo de storm an' snow, she's comin' wan beeg canoe.

Den somebody call it ma nam' out loud, firs' tam it was scare me so, "We know right away, dat was you be dere, hello Phil-o-rum, hello!" An' soon I see him dat feller spik, I 'member him too mese'f, We go de sam' school twenty year before, hees nam's Telesphore Le Boeuf.

But I know on de way canoe she go, dat de crowd he mus' be dead man Was come from de Grande Riviere du Nord, come from Saskatchewan, Come too from all de place is lie on de Hodson Bay Contree, An' de t'ing I was see me dat New Year night, is le phantome Chasse Gal'rie.

An' many de boy I was see him dere, I know him so long before He's goin' away on de far contree--for never return no more-- An' now on phantome he is comin' home--t'roo de storm an' de hurricane For kiss him de girl on jour de l'an, an' see de ole peep again.

De beeg voyageur w'at is steer canoe, wit' paddle hol' on hees han' Got very long hair was hang down hees neck, de sam' as wil' Injin man Invite me on boar' dat phantome canoe, for show it dead man de way-- Don't lak it de job, but no use refuse, so I'll mak' it de embarquer.

Den wan of de gang, he mus' be foreman, say it's tam for have leetle drink, So he pass heem black bottle for tak' un "coup," an' it's look lak ma own I t'ink, But it can't be de sam', I'll be swear for dat, for w'en I was mak' de go, I fin' dere is not'ing inside but win', an' de whiskey's phantome also.

Dey be laugh affer dat, lak dey tak' some fit, so de boss spik him, "Tiens Phil-o-rum, Never min' on dem feller--mus' have leetle sport, dat's very long way we come, Will you ketch it de paddle for steer us quick on place of Maxime Baribault?" An' he's ax me so nice, I do as he please', an den away off she go.

Wan minute--two minute--we pass on dere, Maxime he is all hooraw! An' we know by musique dat was play inside, mus' be de great Joe Violon, Dat feller work fiddle on very bes' way, dat nobody never see Mak' de boy an' de girl, ole peep also, dance lak dey was go crazee.

You s'pose dey was let me come on dat house? Not at all, for de boss he say, "Phil-o-rum, it's long tam we don't see our fren', can't get heem chance ev'ry day, Please stop on canoe so she won't blow off, w'ile we pass on de house an' see Dem frien' we was lef' an' de girl we spark, before we go strange contree."

An' me I was sit on canoe outside, jus' lak I was sapre fou, Watchin' dem feller dat's all dead man, dance heem lak Loup Garou. De boss he kiss Marie Louise, ma girl, dat's way he spen' mos' de tam, But of course she know not'ing of dat biz-nesse--don't lak it me jus' de sam'.

By tam I'm commence it for feel de col', dey're all comin' out encore, An' we start off again t'roo de sky, hooraw! for mak' de visite some more, All de place on de parish we go dat night, w'erever dey get some dance, Till I feel it so tire, I could sleep right off, but dey don't geev it me no chance.

De las' place w'ere passin' dat's Bill Boucher, he's very good frien' of me, An' I t'ink it's near tam I was lef' dat crowd, so I'll snub de canoe on tree, Den affer dead man he was safe inside, an' ev'rywan start danser, I go on de barn wat's behin' de house, for see I can't hide away.

She's nice place de barn, an' got plaintee warm, an' I'm feel very glad be dere, So long dead feller don't fin' me out, an' ketch it me on de hair, But s'pose I get col', work him hard all night, 'cos I make it wan leetle cough, W'en de rooster he's scare, holler t'ree, four tam, an' whole t'ing she bus' right off.

I'll never see not'ing so quick again--Canoe an' dead man go scat! She's locky de rooster he mak' de noise, bus' ev'ryt'ing up lak dat, Or mebbe dem feller get me encore, an' tak' me on Hodson Bay, But it's all right now, for de morning's come, an' he see me ole Bill Boucher.

I'm feel it so tire, an' sore all de place, wit' all de hard work I do', 'Cos I'm not very use for mak' paddle, me, on beeg, beeg phantome canoe, But Bill an' hees boy dey was leef me up, an' carry me on maison W'ere plaintee nice t'ing dey was mak' me eat, an' drink it some whiskey blanc.

An' now w'en I'm finish, w'at you t'ink it youse'f, 'bout story dat you was hear? No wonner ma hair she is all turn w'ite before I get eighty year! But 'member dis t'ing, I be tole you firs, don't los' it mes chers amis, De man he can leev him on long, long tam, an' not see it La Chasse Gal'rie!

* * * * *

He sit on de corner mos' every night, ole Phil-o-rum Juneau, Spik wit' hese'f, an' shak' de head, an' smoke on de pipe also, But kip very quiet, don't wak' him up, let him stay on de kitchen wall, For if you believe w'at de ole man say, you believe anyt'ing at all.

DE BELL OF ST. MICHEL.

Go 'way, go 'way, don't ring no more, ole bell of Saint Michel, For if you do, I can't stay here, you know dat very well, No matter how I close ma ear, I can't shut out de soun', It rise so high 'bove all de noise of dis beeg Yankee town.

An' w'en it ring, I t'ink I feel de cool, cool summer breeze Dat's blow across Lac Peezagonk, an' play among de trees, Dey're makin' hay, I know mese'f, can smell de pleasant smell O! how I wish I could be dere to-day on Saint Michel!

It's fonny t'ing, for me I'm sure, dat's travel ev'ryw'ere, How moche I t'ink of long ago w'en I be leevin' dere; I can't 'splain dat at all, at all, mebbe it's naturel, But I can't help it w'en I hear de bell of Saint Michel.

Dere's plaintee t'ing I don't forget, but I remember bes' De spot I fin' wan day on June de small san'piper's nes' An' dat hole on de reever w'ere I ketch de beeg, beeg trout Was very nearly pull me in before I pull heem out.

An' leetle Elodie Leclaire, I wonner if she still Leev jus' sam' place she use to leev on 'noder side de hill, But s'pose she marry Joe Barbeau, dat's alway hangin' roun' Since I am lef' ole Saint Michel for work on Yankee town.

Ah! dere she go, ding dong, ding dong, its back, encore again An' ole chanson come on ma head of "a la claire fontaine," I'm not surprise it soun' so sweet, more sweeter I can tell For wit' de song also I hear de bell of Saint Michel.

It's very strange about dat bell, go ding dong all de w'ile For when I'm small garcon at school, can't hear it half a mile; But seems more farder I get off from Church of Saint Michel, De more I see de ole village an' louder soun' de bell.

O! all de monee dat I mak' w'en I be travel roun' Can't kip me long away from home on dis beeg Yankee town, I t'ink I'll settle down again on Parish Saint Michel, An' leev an' die more satisfy so long I hear dat bell.

PELANG.

Pelang! Pelang! Mon cher garcon, I t'ink of you--t'ink of you night and day-- Don't mak' no difference, seems to me De long long tam you're gone away.

* * * * *

De snow is deep on de Grande Montagne-- Lak tonder de rapide roar below-- De sam' kin' night, ma boy get los' On beeg, beeg storm forty year ago.

An' I never was hear de win' blow hard, An' de snow come sweesh on de window pane-- But ev'ryt'ing 'pear lak' it's yesterday An' whole of ma troub' is come back again.

Ah me! I was foolish young girl den It's only ma own plaisir I care, An' w'en some dance or soiree come off Dat's very sure t'ing you will see me dere.

Don't got too moche sense at all dat tam, Run ev'ry place on de whole contree-- But I change beeg lot w'en Pelang come 'long For I love him so well, kin' o' steady me.

An' he was de bes' boy on Coteau, An' t'ink I am de bes' girl too for sure-- He's tole me dat, geev de ring also Was say on de inside "Je t'aime toujours."

I geev heem some hair dat come off ma head, I mak' de nice stocking for warm hees feet, So ev'ryt'ing's feex, w'en de spring is come For mak' mariee on de church toute suite.

"W'en de spring is come!" Ah I don't see dat, Dough de year is pass as dey pass before, An' de season come, an' de season go, But our spring never was come no more.

* * * * *

It's on de fete of de jour de l'an, An' de worl' outside is cole an' w'ite, As I sit an' watch for mon cher Pelang For he's promise come see me dis very night.

Bonhomme Peloquin dat is leev near us-- He's alway keep look heem upon de moon-- See fonny t'ing dere only week before, An' say he's expec' some beeg storm soon.

So ma fader is mak' it de laugh on me' "Pelang he's believe heem de ole Bonhomme Dat t'ink he see ev'ryt'ing on de moon An' mebbe he's feel it too scare for come."

But I don't spik not'ing I am so sure Of de promise Pelang is mak' wit' me-- An' de mos' beeg storm dat is never blow Can't kip heem away from hees own Marie.

I open de door, an' pass outside For see mese'f how de night is look An' de star is commence for go couche De mountain also is put on hees tuque.

No sooner, I come on de house again W'ere ev'ryt'ing feel it so nice an' warm, Dan out of de sky come de Nor'Eas' win'-- Out of de sky come de beeg snow storm.

Blow lak not'ing I never see, Blow lak le diable he was mak' grande tour; De snow come down lak wan avalanche, An' cole! Mon Dieu, it is cole for sure!

I t'ink, I t'ink of mon pauvre garcon, Dat's out mebbe on de Grande Montagne; So I place chandelle we're it's geev good light, An' pray Le Bon Dieu he will help Pelang.

De ole folk t'ink I am go crazee, An' moder she's geev me de good night kiss; She say "Go off on your bed, Marie, Dere's nobody come on de storm lak dis."

But ma eye don't close dat long long, night For it seem jus' lak phantome is near, An' I t'ink of de terrible Loup Garou An' all de bad story I offen hear.

Dere was tam I am sure somet'ing call "Marie" So plainly I open de outside door, But it's meet me only de awful storm, An de cry pass away--don't come no more.

An' de morning sun, w'en he's up at las', Fin' me w'ite as de face of de snow itse'f, For I know very well, on de Grande Montagne, Ma poor Pelang he's come dead hese'f.

It's noon by de clock w'en de storm blow off, An' ma fader an' broder start out for see Any track on de snow by de Mountain side, Or down on de place w'ere chemin should be.

No sign at all on de Grande Montagne, No sign all over de w'ite, w'ite snow; Only hear de win' on de beeg pine tree, An' roar of de rapide down below.

An' w'ere is he lie, mon cher Pelang! Pelang ma boy I was love so well? Only Le Bon Dieu up above An' mebbe de leetle snow bird can tell.

An I t'ink I hear de leetle bird say, "Wait till de snow is geev up it's dead, Wait till I go, an' de robin come, An' den you will fin' hees cole, cole bed."

An' it's all come true, for w'en de sun Is warm de side of de Grande Montagne An' drive away all de winter snow, We fin' heem at las', mon cher Pelang!

An' here on de fete of de jour de l'an, Alone by mese'f I sit again, W'ile de beeg, beeg storm is blow outside, An' de snow come sweesh on de window pane.

Not all alone, for I t'ink I hear De voice of ma boy gone long ago; Can hear it above de hurricane, An' roar of de rapide down below.

Yes--yes--Pelang, mon cher garcon! I t'ink of you, t'ink of you night an' day, Don't mak' no difference seems to me How long de tam you was gone away.

MON CHOUAL "CASTOR."

I'm poor man, me, but I buy las' May Wan horse on de Comp'nie Passengaire, An' auction feller w'at sole heem say She's out of de full-breed "Messengaire."

Good trotter stock, also galluppe, But work long tam on de city car, Of course she's purty well break heem up, So come leetle cheap--twenty-wan dollarre.

Firs' chance I sen' heem on St. Cesaire, W'ere I t'ink he's have moche better sight, Mebbe de grass an' de contree air Very soon was feex heem up all right.

I lef' heem dere till de fall come 'long, An' dat trotter he can't eat grass no more, An' w'en I go dere, I fin' heem strong Lak not'ing I never see before.

I heetch heem up on de light sulkee, L'enfant! dat horse he is cover groun'! Don't tak' long tam for de crowd to see Mon choual he was leek all trotter roun'.

Come down de race course lak' oiseau Tail over datch boar', nice you please, Can't tell for sure de quick he go, S'pose somew'ere 'bout two, t'ree forties.

I treat ma frien' on de whiskey blanc, An' we drink "Castor" he's bonne sante From L'Achigan to St. Armand, He's bes' horse sure on de whole comte.

* * * * *

'Bout week on front of dis, Lalime, Dat man drive horse call "Clevelan' Bay" Was challenge, so I match wit' heem For wan mile heat on straight away.

Dat's twenty dollarre on wan side, De lawyer's draw de paper out, But if dem trotter come in tied, Wall! all dat monee's go on spout.

Nex' t'ing ma backer man, Labrie, Tak' off his catch-book vingt cinq cents, An' toss Lalime bes' two on t'ree For see who's go on inside fence.

Bateese Lalime, he's purty smart, An' gain dat toss wit' jockey trick. I don't care me, w'en "Castor" start, Very soon I t'ink he's mak' heem sick.

Beeg crowd of course was dere for see Dem trotter on de grand match race Some people come from St. Remi An' some from plaintee 'noder place.

W'en all is ready, flag was fall An' way dem trotter pass on fence Lak not'ing you never see at all, It mak' me t'ink of "St. Lawrence."[1]

"Castor," hees tail was stan' so straight Could place chapeau on de en' of top An' w'en he struck two forty gait Don't seem he's never go for stop.

Wall! dat's all right for firs' half mile W'en Clevelan' Bay commence for break, Dat mak' me feel very moche lak smile, I'm sure "Castor" he's took de cake.

But Lalime pull heem hard on line An' stop "Clevelan'" before go far, It's all no good, he can't ketch mine I'm go more quicker lak express car.

I'm feel all right for my monee, For sure mon Choual he's took firs' place, W'en 'bout arpent from home, sapre, Somet'ing she's happen, I'm los' de race.

Wan bad boy he's come out on track, I cannot see dat bad boy's han'; He's hol' somet'ing behin' hees back, It was small bell, I understan'.

Can spik for dat, ma horse go well, An' never show no sign of sweat, Until dat boy he's ring hees bell-- Misere! I t'ink I hear heem yet!

Wall! jus' so soon mon Choual "Castor" Was hear dat bell go kling! klang! kling! He's tink of course of city car, An' spose mus' be conductor ring.

Firs' t'ing I know ma trotter's drop Dat tail was stan' so straight before, An' affer dat, mebbe he stop For me, I don't know not'ing more.

But w'en I'm come alive again I fin' dat horse call "Clevelan' Bay" Was got firs' place, an' so he's gain Dat wan mile heat on straight away.

An' now w'erever I am go Bad boy he's sure for holler an' yell Dis donc! Dis donc! Paul Archambault! W'at's matter wit' your chestnutte bell?

Mak' plaintee troub' dem bad garcons, An' offen ring some bell also, Was mad! Could plonge on de St. Laurent An' w'at to do, "Castor" don't know.

Las' tam I pass de railway track For drive avec mon frere Alfred, In-jinne she's ring, "Castor" he's back, Monjee! it's fonny I'm not come dead!

Toujours comme ca! an' mak' me sick, But horse dat work long on les chars Can't broke dem off on fancy trick So now I'm busy for sole "Castor."

[Footnote 1: "St. Lawrence," the Canadian "Dexter."]

OLE TAM ON BORD-A PLOUFFE.

I lak on summer ev'ning, w'en nice cool win' is blowin' An' up above ma head, I hear de pigeon on de roof, To bring ma chair an' sit dere, an' watch de current flowin' Of ole Riviere des Prairies as she pass de Bord-a Plouffe.

But it seem dead place for sure now, on shore down by de lan'in'-- No more de voyageurs is sing lak dey was sing alway-- De tree dey're commence growin' w'ere shaintee once is stan'in', An' no one scare de swallow w'en she fly across de bay.

I don't lak see de reever she's never doin' not'in' But passin' empty ev'ry day on Bout de l'ile below-- Ma ole shaloup dat's lyin' wit' all its timber rottin' An' tam so change on Bord-a Plouffe since forty year ago!

De ice dat freeze on winter, might jus' as well be stay dere, For w'en de spring she's comin' de only t'ing I see Is two, t'ree piqnique feller, hees girl was row away dere, Don't got no use for water now, on Riviere des Prairies.

'Twas diff'rent on dem summer you couldn't see de reever, Wit' saw-log an' squar' timber raf', mos' all de season t'roo-- Two honder man an' more too--all busy lak de beaver, An' me! I'm wan de pilot for ronne 'em down de "Soo."

Don't 'member lak I use to, for now I'm gettin' ole, me-- But still I can't forget Bill Wade, an' Guillaume Lagasse, Joe Monferrand, Bazile Montour--wit' plaintee I can't tole, me, An' king of all de Bord-a Plouffe, M'sieu' Venance Lemay.

Lak small boy on hees lesson, I learn de way to han'le Mos' beeges' raf' is never float upon de Ottawaw, Ma fader show me dat too, for well he know de channel, From Dutchman Rapide up above to Bout de l'ile en bas.

He's smart man too, ma fader, only t'ing he got de bow-leg, Ridin' log w'en leetle feller, mebbe dat's de reason w'y, All de sam', if he's in hurry, den Bagosh! he's got heem no leg But wing an' fedder lak oiseau, was fly upon de sky!

O dat was tam we're happy, an' man dey're alway singin', For if it's hard work on de raf', w'y dere's your monee sure! An' ev'ry summer evenin', ole Bord-a Plouffe she's ringin' Wit' "En Roulant ma Boule" an' "J'aimerai toujour."

Dere dey're comin' on de wagon! fine young feller ev'ry wan too, Dress im up de ole tam fashion, dat I lak for see encore, Yellin' hooraw! t'roo de village, all de horse upon de ronne too, Ah poor Bord-a Plouffe! she never have dem tam again no more!

Very offen w'en I'm sleepin', I was feel as if I'm goin' Down de ole Riviere des Prairies on de raf' de sam as den-- An' ma dream is only lef' me, w'en de rooster commence crowin' But it can't do me no harm, 'cos it mak me young again.

An' upon de morning early, wen de reever fog is clearin' An' sun is makin' up hees min' for drive away de dew, W'en young bird want hees breakfas', I wak' an' t'ink I'm hearin' Somebody shout "Hooraw, Bateese, de raf' she's wait for you."

Dat's voice of Guillaume Lagasse was call me on de morning Jus' outside on de winder w'ere you look across de bay, But he's drown upon de Longue "Soo," wit' never word of warning An' green grass cover over poor Guillaume Lagasse.

I s'pose dat's meanin' somet'ing--mebbe I'm not long for stay here, Seein' all dem strange t'ing happen--dead frien' comin' roun' me so-- But I'm sure I die more happy, if I got jus' wan more day here, Lak we have upon de ole tam Bord-a Plouffe of long ago!

THE GRAND SEIGNEUR.

To the hut of the peasant, or lordly hall, To the heart of the king, or humblest thrall, Sooner or late, love comes to all, And it came to the Grand Seigneur, my dear, It came to the Grand Seigneur.

The robins were singing a roundelay, And the air was sweet with the breath of May, As a horseman rode thro' the forest way, And he was a Grand Seigneur, my dear, He was a grand Seigneur.

Lord of the Manor, Count Bellefontaine, Had spurr'd over many a stormy plain With gallants of France at his bridle rein, For he was a brave Cavalier, my dear-- He was a brave Cavalier.

But the huntsman's daughter, La Belle Marie, Held the Knight's proud heart in captivity, And oh! she was fair as the fleur de lys, Tho' only a peasant maid, my dear, Only a peasant maid.

Thro' the woodland depths on his charger grey To the huntsman's cottage he rides away, And the maiden lists to a tale to-day That haughtiest dame might hear, my dear, That haughtiest dame might hear.