"Can you remember the holy man?" asked Humphrey, with interest.

"No; but my father remembered him well. He was well grown towards
manhood before the venerable old man died at a great age. My
grandfather has told me story after story of him. I have been
brought up to love and revere his memory, and to hold fast the
things which he taught us. But after his death, alas! a new spirit
gradually entered into the hearts of our people. They began to grow
covetous of gain, to trade with the Indians for their own benefit,
to fall into careless and sometimes evil practices. Before my
father died he said to me that the Home of Peace was no longer the
place it once had been, and that he should like to think that I
might find a better place to live in, since I was young and had my
life before me."

"Was that long ago?"

"Just a year. My mother had died six months earlier. The
dissensions of the parent countries had begun to reach to us. We
had been French and English from the beginning, but had dwelt in
peace and brotherly goodwill for nigh upon eighty years. We had
married amongst ourselves, so that some amongst us scarce knew
whether to call themselves French or English. But for all that
disunion grew and spread. Stragglers of Louisiana found their way
to us. They brought new fashions of thought and teaching with them.
Some Romish priests found us out, and took possession of the little
chapel which Father Fritz had built with such loving care, and the
Mass was said instead of that simpler service which he had drawn up
for us. Many of us the priests dubbed as heretics, and because we
would not change our views for them, they became angry, and we were