The _habitants_ had preserved an impressive ceremony handed down from their Norman ancestors. This ceremony consisted of a huge bonfire at sunset of the eve of St. Jean-Baptiste. An octagonal pyramid, about ten feet high, was constructed before the main entrance of the church. Covered with branches of fir interwoven amid the strips of cedar which formed its surface, this structure was eminently ornamental. The curé, accompanied by his assistants, marched out and recited certain prayers belonging to the occasion; then, after having blessed the structure, he set a torch to the little piles of straw arranged at the eight corners of the pyramid. Straightway the whole pile burst crackling into flame, amid the shouts and gun-firing of the crowd which remained in attendance till the pyramid was burned to ashes. At this joyous ceremony, Blanche D'Haberville did not fail to assist, in company with Jules, Lochiel, and Uncle Raoul. A malicious critic, observing Uncle Raoul as he stood leaning on his sword a little in advance of the throng, might have been reminded of the late lamented Vulcan of game-legged memory, so lurid and grotesque an effect was cast upon his figure; which by no means prevented Uncle Raoul from considering himself the most important personage present. Uncle Raoul had a very good and sufficient reason for taking part in the bonfire. It was the day of the salmon sale. Every _habitant_ who stretched a net came to sell his first salmon at the church door for the benefit of the souls in purgatory; in other words, with the money obtained for the fish he would pay for a mass to be said for the souls about which he was most concerned. The auctioneer announcing the object of the sale, all strove to outbid each other. Nothing could be more touching than this closeness of communion between friends and relations beyond the grave, this anxious concern extending even to the invisible world. Our brethren of other creeds shed, indeed, as we do, the bitterest of tears over the tomb which covers away their dearest, but there they cease their solicitude and their devotion. When I was a child my mother taught me to conclude all my prayers with this appeal: "Receive, O Lord, soon into thy blessed paradise the souls of my grandfather and grandmother." My prayers were then for kinsfolk few in number and unknown to me. Now, alas, in my old age, how many names would have to pass my lips were I to enumerate in my prayers all the loved ones who have left me! It was some time after dark when Uncle Raoul, Blanche, Jules, and Archie quitted the presbytery where they had taken supper. Uncle Raoul, who had a smattering of astronomy, explained to his niece, as they drove along, the mysteries of the starry vault, marvels of which, for all the efforts of their professor in astronomy, our young men knew but little.