My friends from other departments often remarked the looks of aversion with which the natives sometimes met them; and not comprehending the reason, have asked me for an explanation. Do you observe, I said, that little white house, half-hidden yonder in the poplars--there, on the banks of the Cure? That house, a few years ago, was the abiding-place of a happy and honest family,--a father, and his three daughters. The father, who in his youth was in very good circumstances, was ruined by bad harvests, an epidemic disease in his cattle, and by other disasters that cause the downfall of many farmers. Nevertheless, and though his losses were great, he lived happy and even contented with his children, who, all three of irreproachable conduct and character, and excellent needlewomen, did their utmost to ameliorate his position. They made dresses for the ladies in the town, worked by the day, and sometimes, when they found their earnings during the summer months fall short of what they thought sufficient to meet the expenses of the coming winter, they hired themselves to some proprietor during the period of the _vendange_. The youngest of the three,--Herminie, she might be about sixteen,--was a charming girl, a true child of Nature, fresh as a wild flower, awaking and rising every day of the year from her peaceful happy couch with the birds of heaven, always smiling and singing. Herminie was the joy, the favourite of the old man,--she was the linnet, the darling, and the life of the house. One autumnal day, (the period at which, as I have before remarked, our province abounds with strangers,) her figure attracted the attention of one of those cursed beings, with a false heart and lying lips, that the great cities send into our rural districts, carrying with them desolation and mourning. I know not in what manner it occurred, what falsehoods, what arts he used, or what traps he laid,--but he succeeded too well in his base purpose. The poor girl was deceived. Easily convinced,--she was too pure, too young to doubt; and her mother, who would have been there to watch over her, was alas! sleeping in the very churchyard in which, in the shade of the evening, she first met her seducer. Enough,--the heartless man of the world obtained the love of the poor and simple Herminie,--and his whim, his heartless selfish whim gratified,--he disappeared.