A CHRISTMAS JAUNT 



and humour enabled her to appreciate 

 the kindness of Providence in not bur- 

 dening our feeble shoulders with the 

 ordering of the affairs of the universe to 

 the end of time, and soon we slipped on 

 to pleasanter subjects, her large fam- 

 ily and their fortunes, the grandchild- 

 ren in Montreal, who could not speak 

 their native language "pas un seul mot 

 je vous assure, Monsieur." 



Pommereau did not keep us waiting 

 next morning. Before eight o'clock he 

 and Le Coq, gaunt, dirty gray, rough- 

 coated but willing, drove up in a whirl- 

 wind of drifting snow from which they 

 were fain to shelter under the lee of the 

 house while we made ready. With 

 heavy robes and hot bricks wrapped in 

 sacking the tiny cariole was very com- 

 fortable, though the north wind blew 

 fiercely, snatching away one's breath 

 with its violence, and driving the fine 

 hard snow like a sand-blast against the 

 face. The gale that sprang up afresh in 



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