lived, and of the village in which it was situated.

The house of M. Bauvais was a long, low building, with a porch or shed in front, and another in the rear; the chimney occupied the centre, dividing the house into two parts, with each a fire place. One of these served for dining room, parlour and principal bed chamber; the other was the kitchen; and each had a small room taken off at the end for private chambers or cabinets. There was no loft or garret, a pair of stairs being a rare thing in the village. The furniture, excepting the beds and the looking glass, was of the most common kind, consisting of an armoire, a rough table or two, and some coarse chairs. The yard was enclosed with cedar pickets, eight or ten inches in diameter, and six feet high, placed upright, sharpened at the top, in the manner of a stockade fort. In front, the yard was narrow, but in the rear, quite spacious, and containing the barn and stables, the negro quarters, and all the necessary offices of a farm yard. Beyond this, there was a spacious garden enclosed with pickets, in the same manner with the yard. It was, indeed, a garden-in which the greatest variety, and the finest vegetables were cultivated, intermingled with flowers and shrubs: on one side of it, there was a small orchard containing a variety of the choicest fruits. The substantial and permanent character of these enclosures, is in singular contrast with the slight and temporary fences and palings of the Americans. The house was a ponderous wooden frame, which,

instead of being weather-boarded, was filled in with clay, and then whitewashed. As to the living, the table was provided in a very different manner from that of the generality of Americans. With the poorest French peasant, cookery is an art well understood. They make great use of vegetables, and prepared in a manner to be wholesome and palatable. Instead of roast and fried, they had soups and fricassees, and gumbos, (a dish supposed to be derived from the Africans) and a variety of other dishTea was not used at meals, and coffee for breakfast, was the privilege of M. Bauvais only.

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From the description of this house, some idea may be formed of the rest of the village. The pursuits of the inhabitants were chiefly agricultural, although all were more or less engaged in traffic for peltries with the Indians, or in working the lead mines in the interior. But few of them were mechanics, and there were but two or three small shops, which retailed a few groceries. Poultry and lead constituted almost the only circulating medium. All politics, or discussions of the affairs of government, were entirely unknown: the commandant took care of all that sort of thing. But instead of them, the processions and ceremonies of the church, and the public balls, furnished ample matter for occupation and amusement. Their agriculture was carried on in a field of several thousand acres, in the fertile river bottom of the Mississippi, enclosed at the common expense, and divided into lots, separated by

some natural or permanent boundary. Horses or cattle, depastured, were tethered with long ropes, or the grass was cut and carried to them in their stalls. It was a pleasing sight, to mark the rural population going and returning morning and evening, to and from the field, with their working cattle, carts, old fashioned wheel ploughs, and other implements of husbandry. Whatever they may have gained in some respects, I question very much, whether the change of government has contributed to increase their happiness. About a quarter of a mile off, there was a village of Kickapoo Indians, who lived on the most friendly terms with the white people. The boys often intermingled with those of the white village, and practised shooting with the bow and arrow; an accomplishment which I acquired with the rest, together with a little smattering of the Indian language, which I forgot on leaving the place.

Such were the place, and the kind of people, where, and among whom, I was about to pass some of the most important years of my life, and which would naturally extend a lasting influence over me. A little difficulty occurred very soon after my arrival, which gave some uneasiness to Madame Bauvais. She felt some repugnance at putting a little heretic into the same bed with her own children. This was soon set right by the good curate, Pere St Pierre, who made a Christian of me, M. and Madame Bauvais becoming my sponsors, by which a relationship was established almost as strong as that formed by the ties of consanguinity. Ever after this,

they permitted me to address them by the endearing names of father and mother; and more affectionate, careful, and anxious parents I could not have had. It was such as even to excite a kind of jealousy among some of their own children. They were strict and exemplary Catholics; so indeed, were most of the inhabitants of the village. Madame Bauvais caused me every night to kneel by her side, to say my pater noster and credo, and then whispered those gentle admonitions which sink deep into the heart. To the good seed thus early sown, I may ascribe any growth of virtue, in a soil that might otherwise have produced only noxious weeds.

But a few days elapsed after my arrival, before I was sent to the village school, where I began to spell and read French before I understood the language. My progress was such, that, in a few weeks, I learned to read and speak the language, and it is singular enough, that half a year had scarcely elapsed before I had entirely forgotten my native tongue, a consequence which had not, most certainly, been foreseen by my father, who expected that I should be possessed of two languages instead of one, and who could not have supposed that I should be sent home a French boy to learn English. So completely had every trace disappeared from my memory, with the exception of the words yes, and no, that when sent for occasionally to act as interpreter to some stray Anglo-American, the little English boy, le petit Anglais, as they called me, could not comprehend a single word beyond the two monosyllables.

CHAPTER III.

RESIDENCE AT ST

GENEVIEVE-DEPARTURE FROM

THAT PLACE.

DURING the remainder of my sojourn at St Genevieve, very little else occurred than the ordinary incidents of boyhood. At school, on a public examination, I was declared the best reader, and the prize, consisting of teacups and saucers, awarded me. From the nature of the prize, the presumption is, it was intended for the other sex. No displeasure was manifested by the parents who were present; on the contrary, they caressed me in the most affectionate manner. In spite of my outlandish origin, I had become a general favourite. The priest had chosen me, as one of the boys appointed to serve at the altar, which was no small honour, and besides, entitled me to a larger share of the pain beni, or blessed bread. I carried my prize home, and gave it to little Zouzou, an infant in the cradle.

After the afternoon mass, I sometimes went with other children to the ball, which was by no means a place of frivolity, but rather a school of manners. The children of the rich and poor