THE OLD FRENCHMAN. 4 1 



West rocks near New Haven in the south-west, 

 of Holyoke range on the north, of the winding 

 river and of Nipsig Lake, which lay almost 

 directly beneath. For a long distance habita- 

 tions were scattered and far between. 



Somewhat further on I came to a house 

 lonely, unpainted, and yet somehow, I could 

 not tell in what respect, different from any 

 farm-houses I had yet seen, except that 

 there were certain indications of refinement 

 about it, evident, but not easily described. 

 At the little wicker gate before it stood an old 

 man, of whom I inquired as to the distance of 

 the nearest town. He bowed politely and 

 replied with an accent which told me that he 

 was French. He was overjoyed when I ad- 

 dressed him in his native tongue. 



"Ah, monsieur," he said, " this is the first 

 time out of my own family that I have heard 

 my own language for the forty-five years that 

 I have lived in this lonely place. Paris, did 

 you say? It is different from this, is it not ?'* 



"Yes, indeed," I replied ; " I w,as there only 

 a few months ago, and I wish you could be 

 there to see the changes in the half-century of 

 your expatriation.'* And then I poured into 

 his greedy ears the story of the gay boulevards, 



