During the festivities, the village Curé came in to call. He stood and watched the dancing and applauded the musician. He also shook hands with each member of the family and their guests. He sang with them, feasted with them, and smoked with the men. He was a very lovable character and had a wonderful power for good among his people. He brought Oisette a box of figs as a New Year's offering, and he patted her on the head when at last she went away to bed. The Curé went home at midnight, but the party went on until dawn. The following morning, when Oisette awoke from her slumbers, she saw on the windowsill a little sparrow hopping about on the snowy ledge, so she tossed back the quilts, and ran down to her mother to beg for some crumbs. To her surprise all her family objected, until it was explained to her by her father, that, according to a superstition that the French Canadian holds, no person should be allowed to carry anything out of a house on New Year's Day until something fresh has been brought in. So she stood, with a tin biscuit box in her hand, in which were a lot of crumbs, waiting until some one should enter the outside door. It was very hard work for her to wait, and the bird seemed very impatient, but the family had said no, and when those who are older say no, it does not do to disobey. The French Canadian child is naturally obedient. Presently she was rewarded and her tears turned to smiles, for with much scraping and pounding the outer door opened and in came her Uncle Napoleon, his arms filled with an assortment of packages. Now, Napoleon was a guest of honor, for he was a young priest, and had but recently returned from the city of Baltimore, in the United States, where he had been in retreat. He, too, kissed all his relatives on both cheeks, as he distributed his gifts. When he came to little Oisette he put in her hand a small box, the top of which was full of small holes. "Have a care, little one," he said, "for your gift is alive." Oisette was so thrilled that she let her tin box drop with a bang, crumbs and all. "Is it a mouse?" she ventured, "or a bird, mon oncle?" Napoleon laughed and shook his head. "This box will make a good home for it," he said. "If we find some sand, some stones and some water." "It is a fish then!" declared her father, only he called it "un poisson." In the meantime the little girl placed the package on the table and opened it carefully. "Oh--oo! la-la," she said, as out walked, very, very slowly, a baby turtle--just two inches long from tip to tip. There were directions with it, from the vicar at St. Remo, explaining that it was full size and would need a little water to live in, a few crumbs and flies to live on. So with stones taken from a flower pot, and sand from a celery box, a nice home was made inside the tin biscuit box.