elsewhere, the young people from colleges and convents, but the social atmosphere does not light up much above the general monotony of this country life until NewYear's Day.

The new year begins with a patriarchal scene. Some households are on foot all night, those of grandparents preparing to receive, and those of younger couples going to visit. For there is some rivalry among the children to prove their greater respect by arriving first. In rare cases some may come as the clock strikes twelve, but generally they arrive at five or six in the morning. The Canadian year thus begins by starlight. The entire family enters at once into the room of the old couple, even though they be still abed; and there they all kneel while the old man extends his hands above their heads and gives them his blessing. Successive arrivals of the other children and grandchildren fill the house as a hive. General hand-shaking and good wishes follow, and after breakfast everybody drives to mass.

"In my childhood," said the Abbé Cas grain to me, "this ceremony always affected my mother to tears. We used to be collected by her in the parlor early in the morning, and then marched into my father's bedroom. Here we knelt before the bed while she asked him for his blessing, which he gave, after a short exhortation, to remind us of our shortcomings and duties. But we children were far more interested in the gifts lying on the bed behind him."

"Thank you, Mr. C., for so comprehensive a wish. May the same fortune attend you!"

When the health of the New-Year had been drunk, we sat down to breakfast, and | Adelard read two formal compositions, from himself and Artemise, his sister, expressing their gratitude, and their good wishes for their kind-hearted parents. When the tears had been wiped all around we began breakfast, and the year opened with a cold, clear morning, whose brightness was reflected in the spirits of everybody. During the morning, and indeed the whole day, relatives called on one another, and ate doughnuts and drank a glass of liquor. The houses were decorated with bouquets, crowns, crosses, and hearts made of marguerites, grasses, and mosses, all dyed in the most gorgeous colors. The most noteworthy feature of the day is the good-will toward men that is then cultivated.

When I arrived at the church, everybody was shaking hands and wishing a happy New-Year. Even those who had been unfriendly went about seeking one another, and meeting with at least frank and cordial faces, to begin the year with fair intentions. Those with whom I had even exchanged a few words gave to me also a hospitable greeting. I have never seen elsewhere so public and general a demonstration of forgiveness and goodwill. The entire parish ran about with open hand and face and abundant good-humor. Then we went in to mass, and to see the priest receive his people in the church. His sermon was a short, pleasant, and patriarchal instruction. He dwelt upon the causes for thankfulness during the past year, for regrets at lost opportunities, and for hope and resignation. Then, after making his yearly report of the population, number of baptisms, marriages, and deaths on the church register, he took to himself the good wishes which all his parishioners undoubtedly tendered him in their minds. As the children had gathered about their father for his blessing, so his people had How do you that day come to the church for his blessing as the father of the parish. And he then expressed his good wishes, in particulars, for each class and age of his people, according to their respective needs. It was not an empty form, for he, as well as most of his simple-minded listeners, was visibly affected.

My own experiences during the day were quite pleasant. At an early hour I heard some of the neighbors, and also the children of the poor, knocking at the door of the inn. Some of them came in with boisterous hilarity, others with eager and interested politeness, to wish M. Chamberlain a happy New-Year. When I came down-stairs the family were marshalled in the dining-room to receive me, according to the custom in every household. Formal greetings were exchanged thus: "Good-morning, Mr. F. do this year?" "Good-morning, Mr. C. I'm very well thus far; and this year?"

Thank you, how are you,

"Very well, I thank you. Let me wish you a prosperous and happy year, and paradise at the end of your days."

66

THE TOPHAM MEADOW LOT,

LD 'Liph'let's a-goin' fast," said Un- | which was in inverse ratio to that of his

'Lips Toothaker, in a tone prayers.

which revealed his pleasure at telling a bit of interesting news, although he endeavored to impart to it that solemnity which the nature of the news seemed to demand.

He had lounged into the blacksmith's shop with an imperturbable face and manner, as one who has no desire for social intercourse, but the initiated knew at a glance that he had something to tell.

Uncle Cy's announcement was received with general surprise.

"You don't say so, now! I heard last week that he was no better and no worse, and that seemed kind of encouragin'," said Jacob Pettigrew, the blacksmith, who was renowned for a cheerful view of things.

Deacon Grimes, the store-keeper, had just dropped in, trade being dull with him and lively at the blacksmith's, as it often was on rainy forenoons. "It's a terrible solemn occasion," said he, rubbing his hands with the air of being especially fitted to converse on the subject in hand. "I hope we all feel it to be a warnin'.”

"Pertakerlerly dropsy for fifteen year," said old Peter Trueworthy, who had resided at the poor-house for upward of thirty years, but with no loss whatever of caste, and was regarded as an oracle.

"And all the more that it can't be expected to be an edifyin' end," said Deacon Grimes, rubbing his hands still more briskly.

"Mebbe old 'Liph'let 'ain't been no worse than some others that's more underhanded," said Jack Simcoe, the shoemaker, who was leaning against the wall with an air that suggested receptivity to gossip. Jack was very irregular in his attendance at church, and had been seen to get over the fence into a field to avoid the minister, who was bent upon inquiring into his spiritual condition, consequently he was regarded as little better than a heathen. "I've kept him in shoeleather for ten years now, and he ain't dyin' in debt to me. I hain't nothin' on my conscience consarnin' him neither, for they was good, honest shoes; no scrimpin' nor shirkin' about 'em."

The especial force of these remarks arose from the fact that Deacon Grimes, in his character of store-keeper, was suspected of maintaining a length in his measures

66

'Righteousness is filthy rags at the best," said the deacon, shaking his head sadly.

66

Well, I guess 'Liph'let hain't many o' them rags to leave behind him," said Jacob Pettigrew, with a facetiousness which, perhaps owing to the deacon's presence, was immediately frowned down by the others.

'What I'm a-thinkin' on," said Uncle Cy, crossing his legs and clasping his hands around them meditatively--"what I'm a-thinkin' on is what 'll become of the Topham medder lot now."

The stranger who was having his horse shod—a large man, with a pleasant face and a well-dressed and prosperous airlooked up with an interested expression.

The group in the blacksmith's shop fairly radiated interest in him. His place of residence, his motives in coming to Farmington, the length of his sojourn, and his occupation in life, were problems that were agitating every mind. But he had hitherto shown a most provoking reticence and indifference. He was not especially dignified, but there was something in his manner which was extremely discouraging to the spirit of inquiry.

An expression of satisfaction stole over Uncle Cy's face at the stranger's look of interest. He cast a glance of modest triumph around the circle, as who should say: "He can't resist me. I'll soon thaw

him out."

"Mebbe, now, you've heard, your way, about the Topham medder lot?" he said to the stranger.

"I live a good ways off," said the stranger, with a slight smile.

"Must be a good ways if you never heard of that! Been in the newspapers, the Topham medder lot has!" said Uncle Cy, in the aggrieved tone of one who hears things that he holds in highest esteem lightly spoken of.

66

Anything remarkable in the way of looks?" asked the stranger.

""Tain't that. It's as pooty a piece of land as there is anywheres round, but 'tain't that. Of course 'tain't the fust land that's been fit over, neither, even right here in this very town. There's the lot where the Town-hall sets; what was nigh enough for one was too far off for t'other;

feller was showin' off ter the fair.
woman that's in love with a man she al-
wers sees a sight in him that other folks
can't see. Sometimes mebbe it's there, but
this time it wa'n't. Leastways that's my
opinion, and most other folks's. When it
come out that the medder lot didn't be-
long to neither the squire nor 'Liph'let,
but to Ezry Topham, over to Plainfield, by
reason of his foreclosin' a mortgage that
he'd held on it for years an' years—when
that news come out, an' it begun to be
known that all the squire had wouldn't
more'n pay his debts, Jason Hutchins he
kind of slacked up his courtin' of Mary
Ann, an' took to goin' consid'able often
to see Persis Tibbetts. Persis she was kind
of gettin' along in years, an' wa'n't never
much to look at, an' was odd an' flighty an'
subjic to spells. She must have been sur-
prised to have a beau. Folks said she put
a feather on her bunnit, an' went to meet'n'
-a thing that she never was knowed to do
before. Old Tibbetts was a miser, an' the
story was that he had no end of money

and runnin' close agin the medder lot, an' | get mad because folks called him mean, the squire was goin' to law with his bro- an' she told my darter Ann 'Lizy that ther 'Liph'let about their father's will, an' | folks didn't understan' him, that he had to see who should have the medder lot. 'ginerous impulses.' Ginerous impulses! There hadn't been no great valoo to it, but-so's the calkerlatin' merchine that that the squire and 'Liph'let was both sot on But a it, one mebbe because the other was; but when the railroad come, they all said Farmin'ton was goin' to be a terrible thrivin' town-some on 'em said a cityan' the medder lot would be right in the heart of it. An' then the squire and 'Liph'let was both of 'em detarmined to hev it. You see, the old man had kind of left things at loose ends; there wa'n't no specifications about dividin' the property-the old man wa'n't never the specifyin' kind—an' so when one and t'other set their hearts on the same thing, there wa'n't nothin' to do but to fight over it, for nary a Topham was ever the givin'-up kind. They left it out to referees, and the referees couldn't agree, an' then they went to law about it, and, as I was a-sayin', about the time that it looked as if the squire was a-goin' to beat, Jason Hutchins he settled down stiddy an' punctooal to courtin' Mary Ann. I don't say as there's no connection between them two idees. In point of fac' I'm one o' them that thinks that as fur forth as he's able, Jason Hutch-hid away in holes in the ground, an' old ins alwers has set by Mary Ann. It comes nateral to him to love himself best, an' he has reasonable doubts whether lovin' anybody else pays. He wouldn't allow himself to think of Mary Ann except with the medder lot throwed in, for he was shrewd enough to 'a found out even then that the squire had begun to go down-hill, an' all the rest of his property wouldn't more'n pay his debts if there was a fair an' square settlin'.

stockin's an' sich; but Persis she was peppery, and Jason was thin-skinned, an' he didn't keep company with her but a little while; Mary Ann she'd flare up if anybody called it keepin' company; she said they were near neighbors, an' Jason pitied her 'cause she was lonesome. He'd never gin up courtin' Mary Ann, only kind of slacked up a little, an' now he took to goin' to see two or three of the other girls, jest as he used to when he was younger, jest to show that there wa'n't nothin' pertickler between him an' Mary Ann.

"That was nigh upon fourteen year ago, and Jason Hutchins he's been a-courtin' Mary Ann Topham more or less stiddy "Now you'd think a girl like Mary Ann ever since without ever comin' to the p'int. would 'a had enough of sich a feller by "Now, you may say what you will, that time, wouldn't you? She jest kind that kind of courtin' must be terrible wear- of wilted down when he was goin' to see in' to a woman. She must 'a been ex- Persis Tibbetts, an' some folks thought pectin' an' expectin' all the time that he'd she was a-goin' to die of a broken heart. up an' ask her to name the day. I sup- It was about that time that 'Siah Holmes, pose she was a-makin' up reasons an' ex- over to Plainfield, wanted her to hev him; cuses for him all the time, a-thinkin' meb- he was a terrible likely man, 'Siah was, a be he was bashful an' didn't darst to ask, store-keeper an' a sleck-man an' a deacon, or mebbe, because he used to be kind of but Mary Ann wouldn't hev anything to consumpted, he didn't think he'd orter get say to him, though her father was dead, married, or mebbe because his father had an' hadn't left her enough to buy her victobjections-you see, he an' the old manuals an' clo'es. Some said that Jason adlived alone then. I know't she used to vised her to hev him, but I don't know

Anyhow, everybody was a-goin' to prove that Ezry Topham's mortgage was a fraud, an' her father had the best right to it. Well, her tryin' to prove that did bring out the fac' that the land didn't belong to Ezry Topham, but 'twas because he'd assigned the mortgage to a man by the name of Sanborn, that had moved to Californy.