"It must be confessed," continued Archie later, when they were at a little distance from the sleigh, "that our friend José has always an appropriate story ready; but do you believe that his father really told him that marvelous dream that was dreamed on the hillsides of St. Michel?" "I perceive," said Jules, "that you do not yet know José's talents; he is an inexhaustible _raconteur_. The neighbors gather in our kitchen on the long winter evenings, and José spins them a story which often goes on for weeks. When he feels his imagination beginning to flag he breaks off, and says: 'I'm getting tired; I'll tell you the rest another day.' "José is also a much more highly esteemed poet than my learned uncle the chevalier, who prides himself on his skill in verse. He never fails to sacrifice to the Muses either on flesh days or on New Year's Day. If you were at my father's house at such times, you would see messengers arrive from all parts of the parish in quest of José's compositions." "But he does not know how to write," said Archie. "No more do his audience know how to read," replied Jules. "This is how they work it. They send to the poet a good chanter (_chanteux_), as they call him, who has a prodigious memory; and, presto! inside of half an hour said chanter has the whole poem in his head. For any sorrowful occasion José is asked to compose a lament; and if it be an occasion of mirth he is certain to be in demand. That reminds me of what happened to a poor devil of a lover who had taken his sweetheart to a ball without being invited. Although unexpected, they were received with politeness, but the young man was so awkward as to trip the daughter of the house while dancing, which raised a shout of laughter from all the company. The young girl's father, being a rough fellow and very angry at the accident, took poor José Blais by the shoulders and put him out of the house. Then he made all manner of excuses to the poor girl whose lover had been so unceremoniously dismissed, and would not permit her to leave. On hearing of this, our friend José yonder was seized with an inspiration, and improvised the following naïve bit of verse: "A party after vespers at the house of old Boulé; But the lads that couldn't dance were asked to stay away: Mon ton ton de ritaine, mon ton ton de rité. "The lads that couldn't dance were asked to stay away, But his heart was set on going, was the heart of José Blai: Mon ton ton, etc. "His heart was set on going, was the heart of José Blai. 'Get done your chores,' said his mistress, 'and I will not say you nay': Mon ton ton, etc. "'Get done your chores,' said his mistress, 'and I will not say you nay': So he hurried out to the barn to give the cows their hay: Mon ton ton, etc. "He hurried out to the barn to give the cows their hay. He rapped Rougett' on the nose, and on the ribs Barré: Mon ton ton, etc.