INTRODUCTION
CHAPTER I.—
"Wae's me for Prince Chairlie"
CHAPTER II.—
"Oh! Canada! mon pays, terre adorÉe,
Sol si cher À mes amours."

CHAPTER III.—
"Il y a longtemps que je t'aime,
Jamais je ne t'oublierai."

CHAPTER IV.—
"Red o'er the forest peers the setting sun,
The line of yellow light dies fast away."

CHAPTER V.—
"A parish priest was of the pilgrim train;
An awful, reverend and religious man.
His eyes diffused a venerable grace,
And charity itself was in his face.
Rich was his soul, though his attire was poor
(As God hath clothed his own ambassador),
For such, on earth, his bless'd Redeemer bore."

CHAPTER VI.—
"The love of money is the root of all evil."
CHAPTER VII.—
"Oh! world! thy slippery turns! Friends now fast sworn in love inseparable shall within this hour break out to bitterest enmity."
CHAPTER VIII.—TEN YEARS AFTER.
"Oh! wouldst thou set thy rank before thyself?
Wouldst thou be honored for thyself or that?
Rank that excels the wearer doth degrade,
Riches impoverish that divide respect."

CHAPTER IX.—
"Alas! Our memories may retrace
Each circumstance of time and place;
Season and scene come back again,
And outward things unchanged remain:
The rest we cannot reinstate:
Ourselves we cannot re-create,
Nor get our souls to the same key
Of the remember'd harmony."

CHAPTER X.—
"O! primavera gioventÙ dell' anno!
O! gioventÙ primavera della vitÆ!!!"

CHAPTER XI.—
"Because thou hast believed the wheels of life
Stand never idle, but go always round;
Hast labor'd, but with purpose; hast become
Laborious, persevering, serious, firm—
For this thy track across the fretful foam
Of vehement actions without scope or term,
Call'd history, keeps a splendor, due to wit,
Which saw one clue to life and followed it."

CHAPTER XII.—
"I know, dear heart! that in our lot
May mingle tears and sorrow;
But love's rich rainbow's built from tears
To-day, with smiles to-morrow,
The sunshine from our sky may die,
The greenness from life's tree,
But ever 'mid the warring storm
Thy nest shall shelter'd be.
The world may never know, dear heart!
What I have found in thee;
But, though nought to the world, dear heart!
Thou'rt all the world to me."

EPILOGUE.
"Our acts our angels are, or good or ill,
The fatal shadows that walk by us still."