"Mamma, can't I give a farewell spread for my chums?" "Yes, dear; have them all here on Friday evening. I will get up a nice supper, and Uncle Carroll will show his magic lantern with moving pictures." "Oh, bully for you Ma, dear." "Bully! What did I say about slang, my child?" "Oh, Ma, dear, all the fellows at St. Thomas' use those words, you've got to have something to say when you are pleased, or mad, or surprised—one dear old priest up there says 'Thunder and mud!' when a boy gives a particularly stupid answer at a recitation."
"Oh, well, my son, that is just a funny expression. I don't mind your adopting it, since as you say, you must have some 'expressions.'"
The last evening at home had come. Bo's trunk was packed and the family had assembled in the dining room to have a nice old-fashioned supper. Their boy was going away, but the grand harmony of the evening was not destroyed. Uncle Carroll sang merry songs, Aunt Lucy played on her guitar, Bolax gave his best pieces on the piano, in fact, they had a regular concert.
Somehow, Bolax felt that he had never loved his parents as he did now; he thought his mother's face so matronly, yet so gentle, was the sweetest face he ever saw. He bid "good-night" quite bravely, but found it hard to suppress his sobs as he clung to his mother's neck, for our light-hearted boy was tender and loving as a girl.
Early next morning the house was astir. Hetty packed a basket of lunch filled with everything she knew the boy liked. Farewells were spoken, the carriage drove up and Mr. Allen accompanied his son to New York, where he placed him on the train bound for Quebec.
L'islet, P. Q., Canada, September 15th.
My Dear Papa: I hope you are well, and that business will soon steer towards prosperity. When you left me in the car, I had to wait about three minutes, then I felt the train start.
As it gained speed, we darted through about fifty little tunnels, and between stone walls.
When we got into Connecticut, we passed a series of little bays, which I afterwards found out were the inlets of the sound. We made our first stop at Meriden, where a crowd of New England girls got on the train; they wore neat golf suits and carried golf sticks. I thought how nice Cousin Madge would look in such clothes. None of them were pretty, but all were as neat as new pins. All along the railroad was to be seen "ads" of pills, bicycles, soap and sarsaparilla.
As we pulled into Hartford, we passed the Pope Manufacturing Company, but it does not resemble the fine pictures they have in their "ads."
I only got out of the seat you put me into once, and that was to get a drink. When I got into Springfield, that baggage man was nowhere to be found, neither was the conductor, so I gave the brakeman the cigars you left for them.
The brakeman then took me to the conductor of the Pullman car; this fellow looked the image of me, only taller, and he greeted me heartily when he found that I was to be in his charge.
I bought sandwiches here, and it's lucky I did, as the roast chicken Mamma put up for me, only did for one meal; it was so good, I couldn't stop eating once I began it.
When I got on the train, it was made up of one baggage, two day and three sleeping coaches, but when I awoke in the morning, or really in the night, to my surprise I found that we had changed from the middle to the end of the train. Now, for the incidents of the night. About 9.30 P. M. I got Billy, the porter, to make up my berth and I went to sleep after a hard tussle with the rough sheets and blanket. At one o'clock, I was dreaming of home and of mother, as the song says, when all of a sudden I heard our village fire whistle blow—I jumped out of bed, and then found to my disappointment that I was five hundred miles from home in a Pullman sleeper that had bumped into something, and every one was making a racket enough to wake the dead. We got another engine after twenty minutes solo, and continued our journey through the high mountains of Vermont. I dozed again and when I awoke, daylight was just peeping out from the east; the frost was on every blade of grass and on every rail and tie; the trees seemed to draw the steam from the engine with their leaves, and then it became a thin veil of frost; thus while standing on the back platform at 4.50 A. M., I could see our route for miles and miles, winding and meandering through the forests of the Pine Tree State.
We passed beautiful lakes by the half dozen, flew over high trestle bridges, that look as if scarcely able to bear the weight of the train. I saw cow-protectors at several crossings, these when the cow tries to cross the rails, split its hoof and she has to "back."
When we reached Sherbrook, I amused myself standing on the back platform, pretending I was "Bryan" and posing for the admiration of a crowd of boys who were at the station. When we were starting again, there was a bump and a crash; I looked out, but all I could see was a smashed tool box and tools scattered in every direction.
The porter was in the baggage car when they opened trunks, he told the Inspector I was going to school and to let my trunks pass, which he did.
As we neared the end of our journey, I was the only passenger in the Pullman car, so the conductor and the brakeman took me into a little station to get breakfast. My, but it was good! It was composed of tender beefsteak, fine coffee, the kind only French people know how to make, potatoes, bread and butter. I handed the waiter fifty cents, which was the price, and cheap at that, to my surprise, he gave me back a quarter. It appears the little French conductor told the proprietor I was his brother, then he shook hands with me, and if I hadn't laughed, he might have believed the conductor and given me back the other quarter.
When the train started again, the Frenchman, who had charge of me, called me "old boy" (he didn't mean the devil, of course), and he asked me if I wanted to ride on the engine, I accepted his offer and rode a hundred miles on it.
I arrived safely at Levis (as my telegram stated) after passing under several long snow sheds.
The train pulled up slowly and I had a splendid view of the grand old fort of Quebec. It reminds me of the pictures I see of the rock of Gibraltar, only that it has a wall with holes in it for cannon. I passed out into snow sheds again, which brought me to L'Islet, where a Christian Brother met me with a team; he got my trunk, which had faithfully followed me all the way. We then started for the College, which is about two miles from the station.
My studies so far are English, Latin, French, Commercial Arithmetic, "The Duties of a Christian Towards God." This is a book used as a reader. Our pleasures at this season are football (played with feet only), baseball, tennis, and those games I mentioned in my letter to Mamma.
I have had only one fight, and I was brave, as you told me to be, so I licked the fellow. I have made ten good friends and two enemies, but the enemies are big "Nits," they can hit hard, but don't know how to "guard."
I am glad Dr. Carroll gave me boxing lessons last winter; they will be useful to me now.
I go to Mass every morning. Tell this to Mamma. Give my love to the following friends:
Professor Rinaldi, Mrs. Carpenter and family, especially Mr. Charlie and Sam; Hetty and Pat, all the seven boys who were my chums—Elmer Mullen, and the Priests at St. Thomas' College, Colonel O'Brian, Darling Mamma, Aunt Lucy, Uncles Dick and Carroll, and all the friends I have left in dear old Midville.
Excuse writing; I have spent two hours on this letter and I'm dead tired of it.
Your loving son,
Bolax Allen.
Answer to Bolax's first letter:
September.
My Dear Son: Your letter is most interesting, those of our friends who do not know that composition is your forte, were inclined to believe it was the production of your teachers. Mr. Thornton published it in his journal, of which I send you a copy. He predicts you will be an editor some day. I tell you this to encourage you; praise is due to him who honestly deserves it.
But, dear, we know composition requires no effort on your part. Now try to excel in what does require effort, your chirography and arithmetic, for instance. There is an old Latin proverb which says, "Patient industry is worth more than lazy talent," meaning that your talent and ability will amount to nothing if you do not work.
Mamma and Aunt Lucy are sending such long letters, so you won't mind if mine is short. God bless you, my dear son.
Your affectionate,
Father.
L'Islet, P. Q., September.
Dearly Beloved Home Folks: I have passed the examination and have not been placed in the highest class. That old arithmetic is the cause. Then, I know almost nothing about Latin or French, but I mean to work in earnest.
Mamma, I did not hear you say your uncle was a priest. He has been pastor of the church for thirty years. His hair is white as snow and he always wears a long black robe belted at the waist, with large beads at his side. When walking out, his head is covered with a wide-brimmed hat. I think he looks like the priest in Longfellow's Evangeline. He is very kind to me and says I look exactly as you did when a child.
There are two funerals here each month; every window in the Church is draped in black on these occasions, and all the ornaments on the altar covered with mourning. But, Ma, dear! you should hear the "Chanteurs" that sing at the Mass for the dead. They are four old men with cracked voices. The first time I heard them, it was so awful that I really thought their shouting and squeaking was done purposely to scare away the devil from the corpse.
On Sundays the College boys sing in the choir; if I only could read Latin, I could serve Mass and sing too. Latin is used more than French in saying prayers.
The College grounds slope down to the St. Lawrence, the river is very wide and beautiful, islands dot its surface. We have three large rowboats and a sailing yacht. I am well pleased with everything so far, except the "grub." I miss Hetty's cooking, but I don't starve and am just as fat as ever.
With all the love of my heart and soul, I am,
Forever yours,
Bolax Allen.
Fun in the Dormitories.
George Fulton, an "American boy," as they designated those who had come from the "States," was always talking of the fun he had when at boarding school near home. One day he called together six friends whom he could trust: "Say you French fellows; you're too tame," said George. "You ought to see the fun we had in the dormitories at the school I went to in the 'States.' Tonight the Brothers hold a special council, they will meet in the Chapel, which being on the other side of the Campus, will prevent their hearing us if we have a little 'Shindig' in our dormitory." "What's a 'Shindig,'" asked Leonce de Vean. "Something you knock de shins?" "Ha, ha, you little French Crapeaud. I forgot you kids don't understand English slang, but you'll see what it is tonight."
As he was entering the Study Hall, Bolax saw Harrison and laughingly told him there was to be an awful "lark" in the dormitory. "We're going to have no end of fun." "Are you?" said Harrison. "Well if it gets amusing, come to my room and tell me, and I'll go down and look on."
It was Brother Isadore's night on duty. He walked slowly up and down the range of the dormitories until every boy seemed ready to get into bed, then he put out all the candles (there was no gas to be had and the Brothers would not trust coal-oil lamps to boys). So long as they were under surveillance, the boys observed the utmost quiet and decorum. All continued in order until Brother Isadore passed out through the lavatory, one of the boys following him as a scout, had seen the last glimmer of his hand-lamp disappear around the corner at the foot of the staircase, and heard the library door close behind him.
After that, as Brother Director was obliged to preside at the Council, the boys knew they were safe from disturbance, and the occupants of the large dormitory were the first to stir.
"Now for some fun," said George, starting up, and by the way of initiative, pitching his pillow at Bolax's head.
"I'll pay you for that when I'm ready," said Bo, laughing, "but let us light a few candles first; however, it's bright moonlight, maybe we had better not light up, some one outside might notice our illumination."
Several fellows from the dormitory came on the scene with their sconces lit, these they placed so as not to show through the windows. Then the boys began all sorts of amusements, some in their night shirts, others with their trousers slipped on. Leapfrog was the prevalent game for the time, but at last Henry de la Tour suggested theatricals, and they were agreed on.
"But we're making a regular knock-me-down shindig," said Fulton, "somebody must keep guard."
"Oh, old Brother Isadore is safe enough in the Chapel; no fear of disturbing him if we were dancing Jim Crow," answered Bolax.
However it was considered safest to put some one at the top of the stairs in case of an unexpected diversion in that direction, and little Leonce consented to go first. He had only to leave the lavatory door open and stand at the top of the staircase, then he commanded for a great distance the only avenue in which danger was expected.
If any Brother's lamp appeared in the hall, the boys had full three minutes' warning and a single loudly whispered "cache-cache" would cause them to "lay low," so that by the time of their adversary's arrival they would, of course, be all fast asleep in bed, some snoring in an alarming manner.
So at the top of the stairs stood little Leonce shoeless and shivering in his night shirt, but keenly entering into the fun.
Meanwhile the rest were getting up a representation of the "Grande Duchesse" pushing the beds together for a stage and dressing up the actors in the most fantastic apparel. Fulton took the part of the Grande Duchess and sang "Voici le sabre de mon père, Tu vas le mettre a ton coté," etc. All joined in the chorus as loud as they dared.
Bolax made a famous "General Boome," because he was so stout; his costume consisted of his night shirt, with a red woolen scarf around his waist; on his head was a crimson silk handkerchief, which was very stiff and stood up in a point. His cheeks were covered with corked whiskers and mustaches. He sang:
Rut-a-pat-a poom,
Je suis moi le Génèrale Boome!
I am the great General Boome!
while he strutted up and down the aisle with a dust brush for a sword.
"I say," said Leonce, "it is very cold standin' here, won't some one relieve guard?" After waiting a few minutes longer, he felt sure there was no danger, and therefore ran up to Harrison's room.
"What's up," asked Harrison. "Oh, we've been having leap-frog and 'La Grande Duchesse.' I'm keeping 'guard,' but it's so cold, I thought I'd run up to your study."
"Little traitor, we'll shoot you for a deserting sentinel."
"There's no danger of being caught; besides, the fellows are making less row now."
"Well, let us go down. I want to see the fun, too."
Fulton, as Grande Duchesse, was draped artistically in a sheet, which trailed behind him, while a blue scarf decked his fair head. Placing himself in an attitude of intensely affected melodrama he was singing:
I have thee near my heart.
Suddenly his foot caught in his long trail and landed him on his back. This scene tickled the audience immensely, and was greeted with shouts of laughter. "Cache-cache!" shouted Leonce and took a flying leap into his bed.
Instantly there was a bolt in different directions; the candles dashed out, the beds pushed aside, and the dormitories at once plunged in profound silence, only broken by heavy breathing of the sleepers, when in strode Brother Director.
He stood for a moment to survey the scene. Every boy was in bed, but the extraordinary way in which the bed clothes were huddled about, told an unmistakable tale.
As the Brother for a moment crossed over to the lavatory, he heard some one move. "Who's there?" said he. It was Harrison trying to sneak back to his room; seeing he was caught, he came before his angry master. "Harrison, is it? I am not surprised, go to your room, I will settle with you tomorrow."
Passing again into the large dormitory, Brother heard nothing but the deep snores of Fulton, and instantly fixed on him as the chief culprit. "Fulton."
No reply, but steady music from that Worthy's bed. "Fulton!" he called still louder and more sternly; "you sleep soundly, sir, too soundly, get up directly," and he laid his hand on the boy's arm.
"Allez-vous en, ce n'est pas encore temps de se lever." [Get away from here, it's not time to get up.]
"You speak very good French when you're asleep, but the shamming will only increase your punishment." The wiley Fulton stretched himself lazily, gave a great yawn, and then awoke with such an admirably feigned start at seeing Brother Director, that Bolax who had been peeping from over the bed clothes, burst into an irresistible explosion of laughter. The Brother swung round on his heel. "What! Allen! get out of bed, sir, this instant." Bolax forgetful of his disguise sheepishly obeyed, but when he stood on the floor, he looked so odd in his crimson girdle and corked cheeks, with the light of Brother's lamp shining on him, that the scene became overpoweringly ludicrous to Fulton, who now in his turn was convulsed with a storm of laughter faintly echoed from other beds.
"Très bien mes amis," (very well, my friends!) was Brother Director's sarcastic remark, for he was now thoroughly angry, "you will hear from me tomorrow." He then walked away with a heavy step.
Next morning, Mass was no sooner over than the boys were summoned to the Study Hall. Brother Director began with: "I have a few words to say to you.
"I find there was the utmost disorder in the dormitories last night. Candles were lighted at forbidden hours, and the noise was so great that it was heard through the whole building. I am grieved to see you cannot be left alone even for a few hours without taking advantage of my absence, and that some of the older boys, far from using their influence to prevent those infractions of discipline, seem inclined to join in them themselves, forgetting their position in school and abetting the follies of children. You, Mr. Harrison, shall be deprived of a privilege which you have abused, as a punishment for your conduct last night, you will give up your private study until the end of the term.
"Fulton as the ringleader ought to be caned, but as this is his first year, I will give him instead three days in the Cachot.
"Allen and the other little fellows who were led by him, shall be deprived of recreation for one week. Now, boys, just let me ask you if you have not enough legitimate pleasures without resorting to such fooleries as that of last night?
"In our schools the Brothers make it a practice to enter into all amusements with our pupils. This summer Fulton and the other American boys saw how we went rowing with you, we join in your football games, we even play marbles with the little fellows, but how would a Christian Brother look dressed up as Master Allen was last night?" Here there was a perceptible smile on Brother Director's face, which gave license for a general titter from those who had seen the costume of "General Boome." "Now we, as Christian Brothers, are bound to teach all who come under our jurisdiction to be Christian gentlemen, and we use our best endeavors to that end.
"We want all to be happy with us, no boy must remain in this College who considers he is treated unjustly or harshly, but we will not allow our rules to be broken or our authority set aside on any consideration.
"Now you may all go to breakfast."
After breakfast Honoré Bernier and several of the French boys congratulated the "Americans" on getting off with so slight a punishment. You may thank your stars it is Brother Benedict, who is Director, he is so lenient; if you had been here in Brother John's time you would all have gotten a dose of Extract of Rattan.
October 31st.
Dear Mother: Our whole dormitory got into a scrape for "cutting up shines" when we should have been asleep. I did not realize how foolish it was to take fun out of time, until Monsieur Le Curé gave me advice on the matter.
I promised him I would keep all the rules in the future and try for the medal. I have started in, and although I find it hard work to keep from mischief, I manage to save my fun for recreation hour.
I have joined the Society of St. Aloysius; that means great watchfulness over myself to keep from offending God in the least manner.
Darling Mother, I hope you will have reason some day to be proud of your loving son,
B. Allen.
CHAPTER XV.
Letter From a Friend.
Palm Beach, November 1st.
Dear Master Bolax: When you receive this letter you will say who is this lady? I never knew her, so I must introduce myself. I am a very old friend of your mother's; we were schoolmates. When you were a tiny baby I saw you and held you in my arms, since then I have been traveling in Europe and did not see your dear mother until we met down here. We often walk out together, and talk of old times, but Mamma's chief topic of conversation is her "boy." You are the core of your mother's heart, and she so hopes to be able to say as you grow older, "This is my blessed boy, is he not noble? I am so proud of him," and you will feel all the nobleness of your nature grow greater, for any boy who can write such sweet, tender letters has the Christ Child in his heart and cannot go far wrong; only you let the little Pixie, a very tormenting spirit, sit on your shoulder at times, and that is the trouble; just you work him off and keep him off; his name is "Lack of Application," and he whispers in your right ear, "don't study hard, let's have some fun; you'll get on somehow."
Then "Lack of Application" has a little sister, who is just as mischievous, her name is: "Procrastination," with these two little Elves so close, and keeping them as constant companions is the cause of all our trouble. If you will whisper to the dear Christ Child to drive them off, and help you to put the cobbles of determination in their place, you will find your pathway full of sunshine.
The Brothers, your instructors, do not mean to be severe, but are trying to help you drive away these two spirits with whom you have struck up such a great friendship.
Now, my dear boy, you have great talent; study that you may be one of the great men and you will find those you think are "hard" upon you are your best friends and helpers.
For your mother's sake, who loves you better than her life, make pleasure your friend for your hours of leisure, but let Brain, Heart and Hands work during working hours. Seek all the knowledge that you now have the chance of obtaining for the more you know of French, Music, Mathematics and general knowledge, the greater are your chances of success.
I think I hear you say: "Why did this lady write to me? She don't know me." Oh, yes, she does, from your letters, and your mother's description of you.
I love boys. I have had one of my own; I know all about their funny tricks. I used to wish I had been a boy myself.
Once when a little girl, I kicked and yelled for an hour because I was not permitted to climb a chestnut tree, and set traps for rabbits and play shinney with the boys. Now don't you think I know something, having gone through all this.
I think a letter from you to me would be a fine thing. We might have a tilt or two with the pen and brain, if not with the sword and lance.
As your dear mother tells me you have a loving, kind heart. I send you a portion of the love I give her and ask you to call me,
Aunt Anna Euhler.
L'Islet, P. Q., December 8th.
Darling Mother: Your sweet letter was received yesterday and my heart beat with joy on seeing it.
Brother will let me have all the books and papers you can send. I would like to renew my subscription to Harper's Young People. I have read all dear Father Finn's books over again, and enjoyed them as I did the first time. I know you are under great expense on account of Papa's illness, so do not exert yourself trying to send me Christmas money, if it becomes necessary I will do without going anywhere or getting anything.
There will be a few boys here to stay over Christmas and New Year, so I will have a little fun, although not as much as if I went to Quebec, St. Anne, St. Eugene's, Cape St. Ignac or Trois Pistolets.
Brother Director has told the Brother who cooks to clean the butter for me, he will put it in water and mash it, thus withdrawing the salty taste and black particles.
I now have a book called "Horsfield's Method of Learning French Language," and I think it will help me very much. It has the French on top and the English underneath, as:
Il est fou, etc.,
He is fool.
It also has conversation, as:
Vous avez des cheveuz rouge,
You have the hairs red.
Don't you wish I could write as well as the fellow who addressed this envelope? The strongest boy in the school is Adolph Bernier, and he is one of my best friends. If he had the nerve of Dr. Carroll he could lick the world.
His muscle is almost three times as large as Doctor's, and his legs about eighteen inches round.
The wind howls around here, and the snow is above the fences. We walk on it with snow shoes.
My love to Papa. Could you send me some alligator's eggs?
Your loving son,
Bolax.
Palm Beach, December.
My Noble, Generous Boy: Your letter touched Papa to the heart, but there will be no necessity for your making such a sacrifice.
It would grieve me to have my child so far away from home, without the means for having a pleasant Christmas. Uncle wrote to say he would attend to your holiday pleasures, and Papa now sends ten dollars.
We laughed so heartily at your description of how the butter was washed for your benefit.
Dearie, do you remember the stories old Colonel O'Brien used to tell us of his campaign during the Civil War? How once he was nearly forty-eight hours without food, and was glad to eat an old piece of ham-fat, which he saw a darkey throw out on the grass as he rode past?
Colonel told us it was the spirit of self-control he had learned while at College that enabled him to bear hunger, cold, privations of all kinds, while in the army. Of course, the food is not expected to be as dainty as at home, but it is always wholesome; no Catholic College would give bad food to the children entrusted to its care. I tried to get the alligator's eggs, but the darkies tell me that it is a hard matter to find them; one old fellow told me: "Dem ugly beasteses loves dere young like de dogs and cats do, dey hide dere eggs and watches round when de time comes for de little ones to be hatched out; you don't better be near at dat time hunten' eggs or young ones, de mudder would snap you up in half a minute."
I have some curious shells which I will give you when I see you; they would only be destroyed among so many boys, if I sent them.
Pray for Papa, not forgetting your loving mother.
P. S.—You ask me to describe Palm Beach, so I send the advertising pamphlet. The description given therein is a perfect pen-picture of the place, much better than I can give. I am Papa's amanuensis and he has so many business letters to send I have little time for other writing, with love,
Mamma.
December 29.
Bien Chère Maman: Such a happy Christmas as I have had. At midnight I was awakened by the Parish Church bells chiming the Adeste Fidelis.
The Midnight Mass was celebrated in the College Chapel, because the snow is so deep, Monsieur Le Curé had announced to the Congregation that the grand High Mass would be at 6 A. M. in the Parish Church.
I assisted at the Mass in the Chapel. It was my first Midnight Mass, and I felt awed by the solemn ceremony.
The grand High Mass was sung by four gentlemen from Quebec. Brother would not let me get up for it, but I attended Vespers in the evening; they had the same choir as at the morning service, with a band of music.
At nine o'clock we were invited to breakfast in the Brothers' dining room. At each "cover" was a box of bonbons from Brother Director and our letters from home.
Dear Ma! I was so surprised I cried. I opened your dear letter first, really I don't know how to thank you and dear Papa.
Aunt Lucy and Uncle Carroll sent me ten dollars, Uncle Dick, five. I feel as rich as a millionaire, with my twenty-five dollars.
January 20.
Dear Mamma and Papa: As I was writing the above, Monsieur Le Curé sent for me to go with him to Quebec. You may be sure I jumped at the offer.
We put up at the Sulpician Seminary. We went to see several beautiful churches.
Notre Dame de Victoire, built in the time of Louis XIV as a votive offering in thanksgiving for a victory gained over the English.
The very same flags and trophys captured then are still preserved in this church.
We saw the ice palace, on the summit of a hill, it was illuminated by electricity, and reminded me of Aladin's Castle in the fairy tale.
No one was allowed to go into it, but you could look in at the windows and doors, and see the wax figures dressed in fancy costumes.
You should have heard the joy bells, and the booming of the cannon from the citadel ushering in the New Year.
There was no discordant clang, no ear-splitting fog horns as in New York, but most of the churches having chimes, made an inspiriting melody.
The Basilica played the Te Deum, Adeste Fidelis, and the National Anthem.
We had midnight Mass in the Seminary, and no one went to bed until near morning.
I must tell you about a little girl we met in the street. She was carrying a doll in her arms when she slipped and fell; the doll was broken to pieces, the poor little thing knelt on the pavement and looked sadly at it, then bursting into tears and raising her eyes to heaven, she cried out: "Sainte Vièrge mon seul enfant est mort!" (Holy Virgin, my only child is dead!)
It went to my heart to see her, so I picked her up, and tried to comfort her; I took her to the nearest shop and bought another "child," when I placed it in her hands, her eyes fairly danced with delight. "Oh, mesieu! I tank yo! No English speak."
Monsieur Le Curé gave her his blessing. As she was leaving the store she took up the broken doll, we asked her what she wanted with the old, broken thing. "Ah, mesieu, one does not throw away dead children; they must be buried."
The people here are so full of faith; you will see well-dressed gentlemen and ladies stop to say the Angelus in the street if they hear the bell ring.
I pray our dear Lord, that you, Papa, and all I love may have a happy New Year.
Your affectionate son,
B. Allen.
After Christmas holidays it was difficult for the boys to settle down to study. The good Brothers, who had not forgotten their own boy-life, understood this and did not draw the reins of discipline very tight for the first few days.
Brother Director made a very pleasant and sensible address to the juniors on the duty and benefits of being diligent in study. At the close of his "talk," as he termed it, he said:
"And now boys, I have something to offer you by the way of spurring your diligence. Three beautiful silver medals have been placed in my hands by three gentlemen living in Quebec. These medals are for your competition. If they were intended as rewards, I would not be a party to their bestowal. I want my pupils to feel that hard, honest study carries its own reward with it. Study puts you in possession of knowledge, which is power, strength, influence and pleasure.
"These are rewards to satisfy any virtuous boy without the addition of gifts. Boys of your age lag a little sometimes, and perhaps need something tangible to help them on. I hope these medals will keep you all up to your mettle, and that although only three of you can win them, all will prove yourselves worthy of them. One is for keeping the rules of the College. One for Composition—English or French. One for him who shall pass the best examination in all branches of study.
"You are now dismissed until tomorrow morning, when I shall expect you to be ready to begin work in earnest."
The boys set up a grand huzza for Brother Director, and then dividing into groups were soon scattered over the grounds or seated under the sugar maple trees.
All the boys made determined resolutions to win the prize. Bolax was especially anxious, because his father had objected to his coming to Canada, and he wanted to show that his mother's choice of a College was a success.
Letter to Papa.
Dear Papa: Now I am in another scrape. The fellow that took things from the table has been found out; I can't imagine how. But he declares I told Brother Isadore on him. I said it wasn't true. He got red in the face and called me a hypocrite; said I pretended to be a saint because I go to Holy Communion every week. Papa, I never pretended to be a saint. It isn't agreeable to have people think you're worse than you really are.
Your loving son,
B. Allen.
Papa's Answer.
My Dear Son: How is a boy to become a manly man if he has everything and everyone about him "agreeable." I did not send you to College just for the French and Latin merely. I could teach you those languages, and in fact, all your other lessons if I chose. I send you that you may get some knocks, and bruises; that you may learn to bear annoyances with patience and manliness.
As long as you live in this world you will meet with people who will misunderstand and misjudge you. But what of that? You have and always will have, if you deserve it, friends who appreciate and love you, who will make the best of your good qualities and the least of your bad ones. Above all, you can have the friendship of God by faithfully keeping His Commandments.
Your affectionate
Father.
Le Gourmand.
For some weeks since the boys returned after Christmas holidays, Brother Julien, who had charge of the dormitories, complained of finding scraps of cake, apple cores, etc., hidden behind the water tank in the lavatory; no one could tell who placed them there. Fulton and Allen knew, but would not inform, although both were very often disturbed by hearing Hyacinth Laforge munching apples in the bed next them.
One morning Brother Director came into the Refectory looking very stern. "I will thank the young gentlemen as they pass from the room to turn their pockets inside out," was the bland invitation that filled everybody with amusement or consternation, as the case might be.
There was a good deal of laughing and joking, as the boys filed out of the room and a great display of knives, pencil, bits of string, etc.
At last the guilty one took his turn. Out came apples, crumbs of cake, nuts, a little of everything.
"So it seems we have a thief among us!" Brother Director spoke in a very severe tone of voice.
"I didn't suppose you would begrudge me an apple or two," said the boy, throwing the contents of his pocket defiantly on the table.
"Nor do I. If you had come to me or to the Brother Procurator, and said: 'I am a greedy fellow; I want to eat all I can hold at the table, and have something to fall back on between times,' you would have been amply provided. But what is that bulging out under your jacket? Open it immediately." Hyacinth slowly and with a dogged air, unbuttoned his vest, when, to the astonishment of the Brother, and the great amusement of the boys, out came a whole pie.
Such a laugh as followed! Brother Isadore, who was standing near, touched the pie, and finding it was still warm, asked when he had managed to capture it. The cook answered the question by coming on the scene, saying: "That boy ran through my kitchen a minute ago, shouldn't wonder if he had taken something, he's always sneaking round."
"Here Brother, here's his plunder," said the Director, "Ce n'est bon que pour les poules maintenant!" (It is only fit for the chickens now), answered the cook, who was very much provoked.
After the laughter had subsided, Hyacinth received a severe and mortifying reproof.
Brother Director said: "Since eating seems to be your chief aim in life, and to save you from stealing, your bed shall be moved into the little clothes room and a plate of cakes and apples placed so that you can munch all night if you wish, without disturbing the rest of the dormitory." The boys passed out laughing. It is needless to add that the apples and cakes were beside the greedy one, every night until he was sick of the sight and smell.
French Letter.
Mrs. Allen was very anxious that her son should write a letter in French, so to please her he sent the following:
College De L'Islet, Janvier 7.
Bien Chère Maman: Votre card de postal etait recu hier et je l'ai lu avec beaucoup de playsir.
Je suis toujour content a recevoir vos lettres, parceque vous est mon premier amour, je vous aime plus que tout dans le monde et dans le ciel exceptey le bon Dieu et la sainte Vierge.
S'il vous play, envoyer moi de l'argent pour achetey du sucre blanc. Je n'aime pas le sucre brune.
Comme ceci est mon premier lettre en français, si vous play ne fait pas le fun a mes fautes.
Je suis avec tout l'amour de mon coeur votre fils.
B. Allen.
Translation of Letter.
My Dear Mamma: Your postal card was received yesterday and I read it with much pleasure.
I am always so glad to receive your letters, because you are my first love, my own dearest mother!
I love you more than anything in this world or in Heaven, except the good God and the Holy Virgin.
If you please, send me some money. I want to buy some white sugar, as I don't like the brown sugar they give here.
As this is my first French letter if you please don't make fun over my faults.
I am with all the love of my heart,
Your son,
B. Allen.
Palm Beach, Fla., January.
My Very Dear Child: Papa and I are much pleased with your effort at French letter-writing, you spell as the words are pronounced, but you will soon learn to correct that. Don't forget accents. They are as important as letters in writing French. I enclose two dollars for the sugar.
Papa is improving in health and spirits in this delightful climate. I am writing at an open window, with the odor of roses and Jessamine wafting into my room.
Dearest make good use of your time. Papa is particularly anxious about your arithmetic, and you know that's your weak point. We are so pleased with the "gold certificate," it proves you are doing your best. Pardon the brevity of this letter, Papa is waiting for me to go and watch the alligators sporting in the water, but we won't let them get a bite at us.
Your loving mother,
M. Allen.
P. S.—I should not have said "sporting," for alligators are sluggish beasts, but often may be seen in the mud in clusters, a tail-switching, or a head raised, on the watch for prey.
L'Islet, January 15.
Bien Chère Mère: I have just received a Christmas gift from that old lady we always called "Madame." You know she never would say my name, always calling me "Bon Homme."
The following verse is written on the fly-leaf of the book she sent. Don't you think it cute?