"Never have I approached this home of my ancestors without being deeply impressed. Let them boast as they will the scenes of beauty or sublimity which abound in our fair Canada, among them all there is but one for me, this spot where I was born, where I passed my childhood under such tender cherishing! I used to think the days too short for my childish sports. I rose at dawn, I dressed in haste, my thirst for my enjoyments was feverish and unfailing. "I love everything about us. I love the moon which you see climbing over the wooded crest of the bluff; nowhere else does she appear to me so beautiful. I love yonder brook which used to turn my little water mills. I love the fountain which refreshed me in the August heats. "Yonder my mother used to sit," continued Jules, pointing out a mossy rock in the shadow of two great beeches. "Thither I used to bring her in my little silver cup the ice-cool water from the spring. Ah! how often this tender mother, watching by my pillow, or awakened suddenly by my cries, brought me that same cup filled with sweet milk! And to think that I must leave all this--perhaps forever! O mother, mother!" Jules burst into tears. Lochiel, much moved, grasped his friend's hand and answered: "You will come back again, my brother. You will come back, bringing glory and good fortune to your family." "Thank you, dear old boy," said Jules, "but let us hurry on. The greetings of my parents will soon scatter this little cloud." Archie, who had never before visited the country in spring-time, wished to know the meaning of those white objects which he saw at the dusky foot of every maple. "Those are the three-cornered spouts," said Jules, "which catch the sap for making sugar. The sugar-maker cuts a notch in the tree and right beneath it he drives in one of these affairs." "One might almost say," replied Archie, "that these trees were vast water-pipes, with their funnels ready to supply a crowded city." He was interrupted by the barking of a great dog, which came running to meet them. "Niger! Niger!" shouted Jules. At the sound of the well-loved voice the dog paused, then ran up and snuffed at his master to assure himself of his identity. He returned Jules's caresses with a howling half joyous, half plaintive, which expressed his love as well as words could have done. "Ah, poor Niger," said Jules, "I understand your language perfectly. It is half a reproach to me for having stayed away from you so long, and it is half delight at seeing me again, with forgiveness of my neglect. Poor Niger, when I come again after my long, long journey, you will not even have the happiness that was granted to the faithful hound of Ulysses, of dying at your master's feet." The reader is doubtless ready by this time to make the acquaintance of the D'Haberville family. Let me introduce them according to their rank in the domestic hierarchy: