A CHRISTMAS JAUNT 



whence one gets the first view of the 

 mountains of the hinterland, unin- 

 habited I had almost written, forgetful 

 at the moment that the moose and the 

 caribou are wandering and browsing 

 there, and all the lesser creatures of the 

 silent snowy woods are there at home, 

 living lives simpler than ours but just as 

 important to them, loving and hating 

 much as we do. 



We draw up before the little cabin of 

 an old and dear friend to find, alas, that 

 another Visitor is expected. Through 

 the very mists of dissolution the dim 

 eyes try in vain to see ; slowly, slowly, 

 the tones of familiar voices reach the 

 dull ear; the face set for a journey and 

 other greetings lights up "Us sont ve- 

 nus me voir. Us sont venus me voir!" 

 . . .God rest the gentle soul of Augustin 

 Belley! Honest as the sunlight, faith- 

 ful as the stars to the sky, ever consid- 

 erate for others and to himself unspar- 

 ing, filled with kindliness and charity as 



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