Chapter 4

But she cried "Alas! it may never be, For my heart is pledged to the young Louis, And I love him, O Sire, so tenderly, Tho' he's only a poor Chasseur, my Lord, Only a poor Chasseur."

"Enough," spake the Knight with a courtly bow, "Be true to thy lover and maiden vow, For virtue like thine is but rare, I trow, And farewell to my dream of love, and thee, Farewell to my dream of thee."

And they say the gallant Count Bellefontaine Bestowed on the couple a rich domain, But you never may hear such tale again, For he was a Grand Seigneur, my dear, He was a Grand Seigneur!

M'SIEU SMIT.

THE ADVENTURES OF AN ENGLISHMAN IN THE CANADIAN WOODS.

Wan morning de walkim boss say "Damase, I t'ink you're good man on canoe d'ecorce, So I'll ax you go wit' your frien' Phileas An' meet M'sieu' Smit' on Chenail W'ite Horse.

"He'll have I am sure de grosse baggage-- Mebbe some valise--mebbe six or t'ree-- But if she's too moche for de longue portage 'Poleon he will tak' 'em wit' mail buggee."

W'en we reach Chenail, plaintee peep be dere, An' wan frien' of me, call Placide Chretien, 'Splain all dat w'en he say man from Angleterre Was spik heem de crowd on de "Parisien."

Fonny way dat Englishman he'll be dress, Leetle pant my dear frien' jus' come on knee, Wit' coat dat's no coat at all--only ves' An' hat--de more stranger I never see!

Wall! dere he sit on de en' some log An' swear heem in English purty loud Den talk Francais, w'ile hees chien boule dog Go smellim an' smellim aroun' de crowd.

I spik im "Bonjour, M'sieu' Smit', Bonjour, I hope dat yourse'f and famille she's well?" M'sieu Smit' he is also say "Bonjour," An' call off hees dog dat's commence for smell.

I tell heem my name dat's Damase Labrie I am come wit' Phileas for mak' de trip, An' he say I'm de firs' man he never see Spik English encore since he lef' de ship.

He is also ax it to me "Damase, De peep she don't seem understan' Francais, W'at's matter wit' dat?" An' I say "Becos You mak' too much talk on de Parisien."

De groun she is pile wit' baggage--Sapre! An' I see purty quick we got plaintee troub-- Two tronk, t'ree valise, four-five fusil, An' w'at M'sieu Smit' he is call "bat' tubbe."

M'sieu Smit' he's tole me w'at for's dat t'ing, An' it seem Englishman he don't feel correc' Until he's go plonge on some bat' morning An' sponge it hees possibill high hees neck.

Of course dat's not'ing of my beez-nesse, He can plonge on de water mos' ev'ry day, But I t'ink for mese'f it mak foolishness An' don't do no good w'en your bonne sante.

W'en I tell 'Poleon he mus' mak' dat job, Dere's leetle too moche for canoe d'ecorce, He's mad right away an' say "Sapre diable! You t'ink I go work lak wan niggerhorse?

"I'm not manufacture dat way, ba non, Dat rich stranger man he have lot monee, I go see my frien' Onesime Gourdon, An' tole heem bring horse wit' some more buggee."

Wall! affer some w'ile dey'll arrange all dat, 'Poleon an' hees frien' Onesime Gourdon, But w'en 'Poleon is tak' hole of bat', He receive it beeg scare immediatement!

Dat chien boule dog, I was tole you 'bout, I am not understan' w'at good she's for, Eat 'Poleon's leg w'it hees teet' an' mout, 'Poleon he is feel very mad--by Gor!

Of course I am poule heem hees tail toute suite But I don't know some reason mak all dis troub', W'en I hear me dat Englishman, M'sieu Smit' Say 'Poleon, w'at for you took my tubbe?

"Leff 'im dere--for I don't low nobodee Walk heem off on any such way lak dat; You may tak' all de res', an' I don't care me-- But de man he'll be keel who is tak' my bat'."

"I will carry heem wit' me," say M'sieu Smit'-- "W'erever dat tubbe she mus' go, I go-- No matter de many place we visite, An' my sponge I will tak' mese'f also."

Phileas say "Damase, we mus buil' some raf' Or mebbe some feller be sure get drown"; Dis geev me plaisir, but I'm scare mak' laf', So I'll do it mese'f, inside, way down.

At las' we are start on voyage, sure nuff, M'sieu Smit' carry tubbe on de top hees head, Good job, I t'ink so, de lac isn't rough, Or probably dis tam, we're all come dead.

De dog go wit' Onesime Gourdon, An' Onesime afferwar' say to me, "Dat chien boule dog is eat 'Poleon Was de more quiet dog I never see."

But fun she's commence on very nex' day W'en we go camp out on de Castor Noir. Dat Englishman he'll come along an' say "I hope some wil' Injun she don't be dere.

"I have hear many tam, dat de wood be foule Of Injun w'at tak' off de hair your head. But so surely my name she's Johnnie Boule If I see me dem feller I shoot it dead."

Phileas den pray harder, more quick he can Mebbe he's t'ink dat's hees las' portage De moder hees fader, she's Injun man Derefore an' also, he is wan Sauvage.

I say "Don't mak' it some excitement; Saison she is 'close' on de spring an' fall, An' dem peep dat work on de Gouvernement Don't lak you shoot Injun dis mont' at all."

Nex' day M'sieu Smit' is perform hees plonge We see heem go done it--Phileas an' me, An' w'en he's hang up bat' tubbe an' sponge We go on de wood for mak' Chasse perdrix.

An' mebbe you will not believe to me, But w'en we come back on de camp encore De sponge of dat Englishman don't be see, An' we fin' beeg bear she's go dead on shore.

Very fonny t'ing how he's loss hees life, But Phileas he'll know hese'f purty quick, He cut M'sieu Bear wit' hees hunter knife, An' sponge she's fall out on de bear stummick.

Day affer we get two fox houn' from Boss Dat's good for ketch deer on de fall an' spring, Den place Englishman w'ere he can't get los' An' tole heem shoot quicker he see somet'ing.

Wat's dat leetle deer got no horn at all? She'll be moder small wan en suite bimeby, Don't remember mese'f w'at name she's call, But dat's de kin' start w'en de dog is cry.

We see heem come down on de runaway De dog she is not very far behin' An' w'en dey pass place M'sieu Smit' is stay We expec' he will shoot or make noise some kin'!

But he's not shoot at all, mon cher ami, So we go an' we ax "Is he see some deer?" He say "Dat's long tam I am stay on tree But I don't see not'ing she's pass on here."

We spik heem once more, "He don't see fox houn'?" W'at you t'ink he is say, dat Englishman? "Yes, I see dem pass quickly upon de groun', Wan beeg yellow dog, an' two small brown wan."

He's feel de more bad I don't see before W'en he know dat beeg dog, she's wan small deer, An' for mak' ev'ryt'ing correc' encore We drink I am sure six bouteilles de biere.

Nex' day--dat's Dimanche--he is spik to me, "Damase, you mus' feel leetle fatigue, You may slep' wit' Phileas w'ile I go an' see I can't get some nice quiet tam to-day."

So for keep 'way skeeter, an' fly also Bouteille from de shelf M'sieu Smit' he tak', Den he start wit' his chien boule dog an' go For nice quiet walk on shore of lac.

We don't slep' half hour w'en dere's beeg, beeg yell, Lak somet'ing I'm sure don't hear long tam, An' we see wan feller we cannot tell, Till he spik it, "Damase! Phileas!! dam dam!!!"

Den we know it at once, mon cher ami, But she's swell up hees face--hees neck an' han'! It seem all de skeeter on w'ole contree Is jump on de head of dat Englishman.

Some water on poor M'sieu Smit' we'll t'row, An' w'en he's tranquille fin' out ev'ryt'ing; Bouteille he's rub on, got some nice sirop I was mak' mese'f on de wood las' spring.

Dere was jus' 'noder t'ing he seem for care An' den he is feel it more satisfy, Dat t'ing, my dear frien', was for keel some bear, If he'll do dat wan tam, he's prepare for die.

Phileas say he know w'ere some blue berree Mak' very good place for de bear have fonne, So we start nex' day on morning earlee, An' M'sieu Smit' go wit' hees elephan' gun.

Wan woman sauvage she is come be dere, Mebbe want some blue berree mak' some pie, Dat' Englishman shoot, he is t'ink she's bear, An' de woman she's holler, "Mon Dieu, I'm die!"

M'sieu Smit' he don't do no harm, becos He is shake hese'f w'en he shoot dat squaw, But scare he pay hunder' dollar cos' For keel some sauvage on de "close" saison.

T'ree day affer dat, we start out on lac For ketch on de water wan Cariboo, But win' she blow strong, an' we can't get back Till we t'row ourse'f out on dat canoe.

We t'ink M'sieu Smit' he is sure be drown, Leetle w'ile we can't see heem again no more, An' den he's come up from de place go down An' jomp on hees bat' tubbe an' try go shore.

W'en he's pass on de bat', he say "Hooraw!" An' commence right away for mak' some sing; I'm sure you can hear heem ten-twelve arpent 'Bout "Brittanie, she alway mus' boss somet'ing."

Dat's all I will tole you jus' now, my frien'; I s'pose you don't know de more fonny case, But if Englishman go on wood again I'll have more storee w'en you pass my place.

WHEN ALBANI SANG.

Was workin' away on de farm dere, wan morning not long ago, Feexin' de fence for winter--'cos dat's w'ere we got de snow! W'en Jeremie Plouffe, ma neighbor, come over an' spik wit' me, "Antoine, you will come on de city, for hear Ma-dam All-ba-nee?"

"W'at you mean?" I was sayin' right off, me, "Some woman was mak' de speech, Or girl on de Hooraw Circus, doin' high kick an' screech?" "Non--non," he is spikin'--"Excuse me, dat's be Ma-dam All-ba-nee Was leevin' down here on de contree, two mile 'noder side Chambly.

"She's jus' comin' over from Englan', on steamboat arrive Kebeck, Singin' on Lunnon an' Paree, an' havin' beeg tam, I expec', But no matter de moche she enjoy it, for travel all roun' de worl', Somet'ing on de heart bring her back here, for she was de Chambly girl.

"She never do not'ing but singin' an' makin' de beeg grande tour An' travel on summer an' winter, so mus' be de firs' class for sure! Ev'ryboddy I'm t'inkin' was know her, an' I also hear 'noder t'ing, She's frien' on La Reine Victoria an' show her de way to sing!"

"Wall," I say, "you're sure she is Chambly, w'at you call Ma-dam All-ba-nee? Don't know me dat nam' on de Canton--I hope you're not fool wit' me?" An' he say, "Lajeunesse, dey was call her, before she is come mariee, But she's takin' de nam' of her husban'--I s'pose dat's de only way."

"C'est bon, mon ami," I was say me, "If I get t'roo de fence nex' day An' she don't want too moche on de monee den mebbe I see her play." So I finish dat job on to-morrow, Jeremie he was helpin' me too, An' I say, "Len' me t'ree dollar quickly for mak' de voyage wit' you."

Correc'--so we're startin' nex' morning, an' arrive Montreal all right, Buy dollar tiquette on de bureau, an' pass on de hall dat night. Beeg crowd, wall! I bet you was dere too, all dress on some fancy dress, De lady, I don't say not'ing, but man's all w'ite shirt an' no ves'.

Don't matter, w'en ban' dey be ready, de foreman strek out wit' hees steek, An' fiddle an' ev'ryt'ing else too, begin for play up de musique. It's fonny t'ing too dey was playin' don't lak it mese'f at all, I rader be lissen some jeeg, me, or w'at you call "Affer de ball."

An' I'm not feelin' very surprise den, w'en de crowd holler out, "Encore," For mak' all dem feller commencin' an' try leetle piece some more, 'Twas better wan' too, I be t'inkin', but slow lak you're goin' to die, All de sam', noboddy say not'ing, dat mean dey was satisfy.

Affer dat come de Grande piano, lak we got on Chambly Hotel, She's nice lookin' girl was play dat, so of course she's go off purty well, Den feller he's ronne out an' sing some, it's all about very fine moon, Dat shine on Canal, ev'ry night too, I'm sorry I don't know de tune.

Nex' t'ing I commence get excite, me, for I don't see no great Ma-dam yet, Too bad I was los all dat monee, an' too late for de raffle tiquette! W'en jus' as I feel very sorry, for come all de way from Chambly, Jeremie he was w'isper, "Tiens, Tiens, prenez garde, she's comin' Ma-dam All-ba-nee!"

Ev'ryboddy seem glad w'en dey see her, come walkin' right down de platform, An' way dey mak' noise on de han' den, w'y! it's jus' lak de beeg tonder storm! I'll never see not'ing lak dat, me, no matter I travel de worl', An' Ma-dam, you t'ink it was scare her? Non, she laugh lak de Chambly girl!

Dere was young feller comin' behin' her, walk nice, comme un Cavalier, An' before All-ba-nee she is ready an' piano get startin' for play, De feller commence wit' hees singin', more stronger dan all de res', I t'ink he's got very bad manner, know not'ing at all politesse.

Ma-dam, I s'pose she get mad den, an' before anyboddy can spik, She settle right down for mak' sing too, an' purty soon ketch heem up quick, Den she's kip it on gainin' an' gainin', till de song it is tout finis, An' w'en she is beatin' dat feller, Bagosh! I am proud Chambly!

I'm not very sorry at all, me, w'en de feller was ronnin' away, An' man he's come out wit' de piccolo, an' start heem right off for play, For it's kin' de musique I be fancy, Jeremie he is lak it also, An' wan de bes' t'ing on dat ev'ning is man wit' de piccolo!

Den mebbe ten minute is passin', Ma-dam she is comin' encore, Dis tam all alone on de platform, dat feller don't show up no more, An' w'en she start off on de singin' Jeremie say, "Antoine, dat's Francais," Dis give us more pleasure, I tole you, 'cos w'y? We're de pure Canayen!

Dat song I will never forget me, 'twas song of de leetle bird, W'en he's fly from it's nes' on de tree top, 'fore res' of de worl' get stirred, Ma-dam she was tole us about it, den start off so quiet an' low, An' sing lak de bird on de morning, de poor leetle small oiseau.

I 'member wan tam I be sleepin' jus' onder some beeg pine tree An song of de robin wak' me, but robin he don't see me, Dere's not'ing for scarin' dat bird dere, he's feel all alone on de worl', Wall! Ma-dam she mus' lissen lak dat too, w'en she was de Chambly girl!

Cos how could she sing dat nice chanson, de sam' as de bird I was hear, Till I see it de maple an' pine tree an' Richelieu ronnin' near, Again I'm de leetle feller, lak young colt upon de spring Dat's jus' on de way I was feel, me, w'en Ma-dam All-ba-nee is sing!

An' affer de song it is finish, an' crowd is mak' noise wit' its han', I s'pose dey be t'inkin' I'm crazy, dat mebbe I don't onderstan', Cos I'm set on de chair very quiet, mese'f an' poor Jeremie, An' I see dat hees eye it was cry too, jus' sam' way it go wit' me.

Dere's rosebush outside on our garden, ev'ry spring it has got new nes', But only wan bluebird is buil' dere, I know her from all de res', An' no matter de far she be flyin' away on de winter tam, Back to her own leetle rosebush she's comin dere jus' de sam'.

We're not de beeg place on our Canton, mebbe cole on de winter, too, But de heart's "Canayen" on our body, an' dat's warm enough for true! An' w'en All-ba-nee was got lonesome for travel all roun' de worl' I hope she 'll come home, lak de bluebird, an' again be de Chambly girl!

DE CAMP ON DE "CHEVAL GRIS."

You 'member de ole log-camp, Johnnie, up on de Cheval Gris, W'ere we work so hard all winter, long ago you an' me? Dere was fourteen man on de gang, den, all from our own paroisse, An' only wan lef' dem feller is ourse'f an' Pierre Laframboise.

But Pierre can't see on de eye, Johnnie, I t'ink it's no good at all! An' it wasn't for not'ing, you're gettin' rheumateez on de leg las' fall! I t'ink it's no use waitin', for neider can come wit' me, So alone I mak' leetle visit dat camp on de Cheval Gris.

An' if only you see it, Johnnie, an' change dere was all aroun', Ev'ryt'ing gone but de timber an' dat is all fallin' down; No sign of portage by de reever w'ere man dey was place canoe, W'y, Johnnie, I'm cry lak de bebe, an' I'm glad you don't come, mon vieux!

But strange t'ing's happen me dere, Johnnie, mebbe I go asleep, As I lissen de song of de rapide, as pas' de Longue Soo she sweep, Ma head she go biz-z-z lak de sawmeel, I don't know w'at's wrong wit' me, But firs' t'ing I don't know not'ing, an' den w'at you t'ink I see?

Yourse'f an' res' of de boy, Johnnie, by light of de coal oil lamp, An' you're singin' an' tolin' story, sittin' aroun' de camp, We hear de win' on de chimley, an' we know it was beeg, beeg storm, But ole box stove she is roarin', an' camp's feelin' nice an' warm.

I t'ink you're on boar' of de raf', Johnnie, near head of Riviere du Loup, W'en LeRoy an' young Patsy Kelly get drown comin' down de Soo, Wall! I see me dem very same feller, jus' lak you see me to-day, Playin' dat game dey call checker, de game dey was play alway!

An' Louis Charette asleep, Johnnie, wit' hees back up agen de wall, Makin' soche noise wit' hees nose, dat you t'ink it was moose on de fall, I s'pose he's de mos' fattes' man dere 'cept mebbe Bateese La Rue, But if I mak fonne on poor Louis, I know he was good boy too!

W'at you do over dere on your bunk, Johnnie, lightin' dem allumettes, Are you shame 'cos de girl she write you, is dat de las' wan you get? It's fonny you can't do widout it ev'ry tam you was goin' bed, W'y readin' dat letter so offen, you mus have it all on de head!

Dat's de very sam' letter, Johnnie, was comin' t'ree mont' ago, I t'ink I know somet'ing about it, 'cos I fin' it wan day on de snow. An' I see on de foot dat letter, Philomene she is do lak dis: * * * I'm not very moche on de school, me, but I t'ink dat was mean de kiss.

Wall! nobody's kickin' de row, Johnnie, an' if allumettes' fini, Put Philomene off on your pocket, an' sing leetle song wit' me; For don't matter de hard you be workin' toujours you're un bon garcon, An' nobody sing lak our Johnnie, Kebeck to de Mattawa!

An' it's den you be let her go, Johnnie, till roof she was mos' cave in, An' if dere's firs' prize on de singin', Bagosh! you're de man can win! Affer dat come fidelle of Joe Pilon, an' he's feller can make it play, So we're clearin' de floor right off den, for have leetle small danser.

An' w'en dance she was tout finis, Johnnie, I go de sam' bunk wit' you W'ere we sleep lak two broder, an' dream of de girl on Riviere du Loup, Very nice ontil somebody call me, it soun' lak de boss Pelang, "Leve toi, Jeremie ma young feller, or else you'll be late on de gang."

An' den I am wak' up, Johnnie, an' w'ere do you t'ink I be? Dere was de wood an' mountain, dere was de Cheval Gris, But w'ere is de boy an' musique I hear only w'ile ago? Gone lak de flower las' summer, gone lak de winter snow!

An' de young man was bring me up, Johnnie, dat's son of ma boy Maxime, Say, "Gran'fader, w'at is de matter, you havin' de bad, bad dream? Come look on your face on de well dere, it's w'ite lak I never see, Mebbe 't was better you're stayin', an' not go along wit' me."

An' w'en I look down de well, Johnnie, an' see de ole feller dere, I say on mese'f "you be makin' fou Jeremie Chateauvert, For t'ink you're garcon agen. Ha! ha! jus' 'cos you are close de eye, An' only commence for leevin' w'en you're ready almos' for die!"

Ah! dat's how de young day pass, Johnnie, purty moche lak de t'ing I see, Sometam dey be las' leetle longer, sam' as wit' you an' me, But no matter de ole we're leevin', de tam she must come some day, W'en boss on de place above, Johnnie, he's callin' us all away.

I'm glad I was go on de camp, Johnnie, I t'ink it will do me good, Mebbe it's las' tam too, for sure, I'll never pass on de wood, For I don't expec' moche longer ole Jeremie will be lef', But about w'at I see dat day, Johnnie, tole nobody but yourse'f.

DE STOVE PIPE HOLE.

Dat's very cole an' stormy night on Village St. Mathieu, W'en ev'ry wan he's go couche, an' dog was quiet, too-- Young Dominique is start heem out see Emmeline Gourdon, Was leevin' on her fader's place, Maxime de Forgeron.

Poor Dominique he's lak dat girl, an' love her mos' de tam, An' she was mak' de promise--sure--some day she be his famme, But she have worse ole fader dat's never on de worl', Was swear onless he's riche lak diable, no feller's get hees girl.

He's mak' it plaintee fuss about hees daughter Emmeline, Dat's mebbe nice girl, too, but den, Mon Dieu, she's not de queen! An' w'en de young man's come aroun' for spark it on de door, An' hear de ole man swear "Bapteme!" he's never come no more.

Young Dominique he's sam' de res',--was scare for ole Maxime, He don't lak risk hese'f too moche for chances seein' heem, Dat's only stormy night he come, so dark you cannot see, An dat's de reason w'y also, he's climb de gallerie.

De girl she's waitin' dere for heem--don't care about de rain, So glad for see young Dominique he's comin' back again, Dey bote forget de ole Maxime, an' mak de embrasser An affer dey was finish dat, poor Dominique is say--

"Good-bye, dear Emmeline, good-bye; I'm goin' very soon, For you I got no better chance, dan feller on de moon-- It's all de fault your fader, too, dat I be go away, He's got no use for me at all--I see dat ev'ry day.

"He's never meet me on de road but he is say 'Sapre!' An' if he ketch me on de house I'm scare he's killin' me, So I mus' lef' ole St. Mathieu, for work on 'noder place, An' till I mak de beeg for-tune, you never see ma face."

Den Emmeline say "Dominique, ma love you'll alway be An' if you kiss me two, t'ree tam I'll not tole noboddy-- But prenez garde ma fader, please, I know he's gettin ole-- All sam' he offen walk de house upon de stockin' sole.

"Good-bye, good-bye, cher Dominique! I know you will be true, I don't want no riche feller me, ma heart she go wit' you." Dat's very quick he's kiss her den, before de fader come, But don't get too moche pleasurement--so 'fraid de ole Bonhomme.

Wall! jus' about dey're half way t'roo wit all dat love beez-nesse Emmeline say, "Dominique, w'at for you're scare lak all de res? Don't see mese'f moche danger now de ole man come aroun'," W'en minute affer dat, dere's noise, lak' house she's fallin' down.

Den Emmeline she holler "Fire! will no wan come for me?" An Dominique is jomp so high, near bus' de gallerie,-- "Help! help! right off," somebody shout, "I'm killin' on ma place, It's all de fault ma daughter, too, dat girl she's ma disgrace."

He's kip it up long tam lak dat, but not hard tellin' now, W'at's all de noise upon de house--who's kick heem up de row? It seem Bonhomme was sneak aroun' upon de stockin' sole, An' firs' t'ing den de ole man walk right t'roo de stove pipe hole.

W'en Dominique is see heem dere, wit' wan leg hang below, An' 'noder leg straight out above, he's glad for ketch heem so-- De ole man can't do not'ing, den, but swear and ax for w'y Noboddy tak' heem out dat hole before he's comin' die.

Den Dominique he spik lak dis, "Mon cher M'sieur Gourdon I'm not riche city feller, me, I'm only habitant, But I was love more I can tole your daughter Emmeline, An' if I marry on dat girl, Bagosh! she's lak de Queen.

"I want you mak de promise now, before it's come too late, An' I mus' tole you dis also, dere's not moche tam for wait. Your foot she's hangin' down so low, I'm 'fraid she ketch de cole, Wall! if you give me Emmeline, I pull you out de hole."

Dat mak' de ole man swear more hard he never swear before, An' wit' de foot he's got above, he's kick it on de floor, "Non, non," he say "Sapre tonnerre! she never marry you, An' if you don't look out you get de jail on St. Mathieu."

"Correc'," young Dominique is say, "mebbe de jail's tight place, But you got wan small corner, too, I see it on de face, So if you don't lak geev de girl on wan poor habitant, Dat's be mese'f, I say, Bonsoir, mon cher M'sieur Gourdon."