gentleman, when about ten miles from Montreal they halted at a farm
with a good well-built house, named Sault St. Pierre, all looking
prosperous and comfortable, and a young farmer, American in his ways-
-free-spoken, familiar, and blunt--but very kindly and friendly, was
at work there with some French-Canadian labourers.

Bertram's friend knew him and often halted there on hunting
expeditions, so they went into the house--very nicely furnished, a
pretty parlour with muslin curtains, a piano, and everything
pleasant; and Joel Lea called his wife, a handsome, fair young woman.
Bertram says from the first she put him in mind of some one, and he
was trying to make out who it could be. Then came the wife's mother,
a neat little delicate, bent woman, with dark eyes, that looked,
Bertram said, as if they had had some great fright and never
recovered it. They called her Mrs. Dayman.

She was silent at first, and only helped her daughter and the maid to
get the dinner, and an excellent dinner it was; but she kept on
looking at Bertram, and she quite started when she heard him called
Mr. Trevor. When they were just rising up, and going to take leave,
she came up to him in a frightened agitated manner, as if she could
not help it, and said--

"Sir, you are so like a gentleman I once knew. Was any relation of
yours ever in Canada?"

"My father was in Canada," answered Bertram.

"Oh no," she said then, very much affected, "the Captain Trevor I
knew was killed in the Lake Campaign in 1814. It must be a mistake,