Dans les chan-tiers nous hi-ver-ne-rons!
Dans les chan-tiers nous hi-ver-ne-rons!
When Owen returned to his Kitchen he found a robe of the finest beaver folded and laid on his shoemaker's bench.
“Begorra!” observed the cobbler, shaking it out and rubbing it against his cheek, “she has paid me a beaver-shkin and the spalpeen wasn't worrth it. But she can kape him now till she has a moind to turn him out herself. Whin a man marries on a haythen, wid praste or widout praste, let him shtick to his haythen.”
THE SKELETON ON ROUND ISLAND
On the 15th day of March, 1897, Ignace Pelott died at Mackinac Island, aged ninety-three years.
The old quarter-breed, son of a half-breed Chippewa mother and French father, took with him into silence much wilderness lore of the Northwest. He was full of stories when warmed to recital, though at the beginning of a talk his gentle eyes dwelt on the listener with anxiety, and he tapped his forehead—“So many things gone from there!” His habit of saying “Oh God, yes,” or “Oh God, no,” was not in the least irreverent, but simply his mild way of using island English.