Old Man Savarin Stories: Tales of Canada and Canadians - Edward William Thomson

[We stood looking at my father's white face]

[Baptiste and Jawnny looked at the place in the wildest terror]

OLD MAN SAVARIN STORIES

THE CANADIAN ABROAD

When the croon of a rapid is heard on the breeze,

With the scent of a pine-forest gloom,

Or the edge of the sky is of steeple-top trees,

Set in hazes of blueberry bloom,

Or a song-sparrow sudden from quietness trills

His delicate anthem to me,

Then my heart hurries home to the Ottawa hills,

Wherever I happen to be.

When the veils of a shining lake vista unfold,

Or the mist towers dim from a fall,

Or a woodland is blazing in crimson and gold,

Or a snow-shroud is covering all,

Or there's honking of geese in the darkening sky,

When the spring sets hepatica free,

Then my heart's winging north as they never can fly,

Wherever I happen to be.

When the swallows slant curves of bewildering joy

As the cool of the twilight descends,

And rosy-cheek maiden and hazel-hue boy

Listen grave while the Angelus ends

In a tremulous flow from the bell of a shrine,

Then a faraway mountain I see,

And my soul is in Canada's evening shine,

Wherever my body may be.

PRIVILEGE OF THE LIMITS

"Yes, indeed, my grandfather wass once in jail," said old Mrs. McTavish, of the county of Glengarry, in Ontario, Canada; "but that wass for debt, and he wass a ferry honest man whateffer, and he would not broke his promise—no, not for all the money in Canada. If you will listen to me, I will tell chust exactly the true story about that debt, to show you what an honest man my grandfather wass.