Industry is another trait which our little Quebec cousin has to her credit.

The interior of Oisette's home was filled with objects which go to prove this. For instance, all the bed clothes, with the exception of the sheets, consist of gay patchwork quilts. French Canadian children learn to sew patchwork when they are very young indeed. Oisette learned to put together red and blue and yellow and white cotton cubes, which were made into wonderful squares of patchwork, just as soon as she could hold a needle that some older person threaded for her. She could thread her own needle long before she knew how to tell what hour it was by the clock.

She knew that to have a quilt one must first make thirty-six of these squares. In the Tremblent household were not only quilts that had been pieced together by a great grandmother who had resided in Quebec City, but bedspreads made by a grandmother who lived across the river in a little village named Chambly, and many made by her own mother when she was a little girl.

Indeed, on Oisette's own bed was a quilt of marvelous pattern made by an aunt for whom Oisette was named. This aunt had since become a cloistered nun, and was shut in from the gay world and spent her time mostly in prayer!

The pattern was known as "The music of the spheres." It consisted of circular bits of red and yellow cotton, which looked like onions floating in a bright blue sky. Right in the center of the counterpane was a big purple star, the long points of this star were tipped with yellow cotton and reached right to the edge of the bedspread.

This comforter was used for the first time when little Oisette Mary was only thirty-six hours old. She was taken by her father and her aunt to the church to be christened; you know a French Canadian child is always christened within three days after birth, and when the tiny babe was put back in its mother's bed the wonderful quilt was spread over the foot of the bedstead and the proud father declared that the little one opened its eyes and noticed the lovely colors even then.

A few months later, when she was old enough to be put down on the floor, she showed a great fancy for the rag rugs, with their gay stripes. These rugs are called Habitant carpets, and are made by the industrious method of sewing together long strips of colored cloth, these strips are rolled into big balls, as large as one's head, and six of these balls, when woven with carpet thread, make a very pretty rug. Most of the convents have looms where they will weave these balls for a small sum of money per yard.

There is something very cheering about the interior of a French Canadian domicile. First of all, there is usually much clean paint, either yellow paint like the clearest sunlight or bright blue paint like a summer sky. Then the window panes sparkle with cleanness, and the window-sills are filled with flowering geraniums and fuchsias, the latter plant being a great favorite in the French Canadian home. These flowers are usually growing in tin cans, but the tin is always very bright and shining. Then the wall papers are never dull or dark in color. Often they are either designs of bright flowers or gold stars. The pictures on the walls are always of interest. First and foremost there is always a picture of the Pope. Then a picture of the Christ, and very often indeed one finds a picture of Madame Albani in all her diamonds and tiara as she appeared when she sung for Queen Victoria at Windsor Castle.

Albani, indeed, was a little Quebec cousin who became world famous. She was born at Chambly, near Montreal, in 1852, within sound of the roaring rapids of the River Richelieu, and in sight of the old historical fort. She was the oldest daughter of one Joseph Lajeunesse, who was a musician of sorts, playing the piano, the fiddle, the harp and the organ. Indeed, he played the church organ at Chambly for many years, and he taught singing in the Sacred Heart Convent at Back River. When little Emma Lajeunesse was twelve years of age, the family moved to Albany, New York, and she went to a convent school there, where her voice was discovered when she sang in the cathedral. It was the citizens of that city who made up a purse and sent her over to Italy to study music. And so out of gratitude she called herself Madame Albani. But when she became famous she returned to Montreal many, many times on concert tours, and was much loved by her own people there, who secured her picture to ornament their homes, and always speak of her as "The lady who sings better than the birds."

Dr. Drummond, who lived in the Province of Quebec, once wrote some delightful verses in the broken English of the Habitant farmer, which lines describe hearing Madame Albani sing:

"Dat song I will never forget me,
'Twas song of de leetle bird,
When he's fly from its nes' on de tree top,
'Fore rest of de worl' get stirred.
Madame she was tole us about it, den start off so quiet an' low,
And sing lak de bird on de morning, de poor little small oiseau."

Then the last stanza goes like this—

"We're not de beeg place on our canton, mebbe cole on de winter too,
But de heart's 'Canayen' on our body an' dat's warm enough for true!
An w'en All-ba-nee was got lonesome for travel all roun' de worl'
I hope she'll come home lak de bluebird an' again be de Chambly girl!"

That, you see, is why the photograph of Madame Albani is given a place of honor in our little Quebec cousin's home.

There is one ornament also that is never missing from the French-Canadian interior, no matter how shabby the surroundings. There is always a crucifix, which teaches its lesson of sacrifice and love to all.

These people are a home-abiding race. They travel but little. If they have a fiddle and a pack of cards for amusement, they do not feel the lure of the moving picture theaters. Sometimes, if any of the family get ill, they will make a pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Anne de BeauprÉ. But very many of them never leave their happy homes for even one night.

Oisette was twelve years of age before she made her first long visit away from home. To be sure, she had been at the convent school for three years, but that was on the Island of Montreal, and one journeyed there by driving. But to go by night boat to Quebec one hundred and sixty miles away, that was traveling.

Just as the city clocks and church bells were sounding their seven o'clock duet, the big night boat for Quebec, known as the steamer Richelieu, swung out into mid-stream. The current of the river St. Lawrence is very rapid just here, opposite the city of Montreal.

On the rear deck Monsieur Tremblent was standing and his little daughter Oisette Mary was with him. The month was June and the weather was very beautiful indeed.

The little traveler gazed with rapture at the receding shores, bathed in a lovely sunset glow. Everything pleased her; she would like to have opened all the stateroom doors and taken a peep inside, but her father explained to her that this was not allowed, except stateroom number seventeen, for that he had a large key; and presently she could go to bed in the top berth, and watch the panorama of moving shore line from out the port hole. But she wanted to sit up as long as her eyes would stay open and watch the travelers ascend and descend the very grand staircase. Above the mirror, which one always finds on these river boats, just halfway up the staircase, was a full length portrait of Richelieu himself, in his gorgeous robes, and holding a scroll in his hand. Oisette tried hard to remember his name, and wondered if he had been a Pope! She would ask the good sisters at the convent when she had to return to her lessons.

Presently she discovered in the salon, a large glass counter, like in a shop, where all sorts of fancy goods were displayed for sale.

There were Indian baskets, picture post cards, and jewelry and candy. Her father told her she might buy a present to take to his mother who lived in the city of Quebec; she became so absorbed trying to discover what she could find that her grandmÈre would like that she never missed her father at all, she stood just where he had left her and gazed and gazed; while he was on the lower deck, having bought a cigar he stopped to chat with a commercial traveler from Ontario, who was much interested to hear about the melon farm; and followed Mr. Tremblent back again up the grand staircase, when he went to find his little girl.

Oisette had just decided upon an Indian basket for her grandmother. This basket was woven in green and pink straw and shaped like a melon. "It will hold her knitting," she explained. "And she will think of you when she sees the melon."

This amused the Ontario man, who shook hands with Oisette and asked her to help him pick out something for his little girl. Finally, after much looking, a pair of red slippers with bead work on the toes was purchased. Then the stranger bought a very tiny straw basket, which contained a thimble; the latter just fitted Oisette's finger, and she was made very happy when he told her she was to keep it.

She made one of her deep curtsies, as the nuns had taught her, and said softly, "Merci bien, Monsieur."

That phrase amused the giver so much that he took out his note book and wrote it down, and he asked her to spell it for him, and kept saying it over and over. "I'll tell my little girl," he said, "that these were your very words!"

Oisette showed her father the thimble and whispered to him, "I shall make him a quilt!" Her father laughed and repeated her saying to the stranger, who declared that the very next time he visited Montreal he would drive out to the melon farm and see how the quilt was coming on.

At last Oisette was ready to go to bed. It was quite late now, but Quebec has a long twilight in summertime, and from out the portholes she could see the little villages along the shore.

There was always a fine big church and a good-sized convent, and clustered about these were such tiny houses.

Finally, she fell asleep and dreamed that the big churches were large hens and the little cottages were chickens cared for by the very big hens on the hill! And sometimes they seemed to be all racing along the river's edge together.