Humour of the North Part 3

I s'pose, meseff, it's t'ree o'clock w'en we are t'roo dat night.

Bateese, hees fader come for heem, an' tak' heem home all right; De ole man say Bateese spik French, w'en he is place on bed-- An' say bad word--but w'en he wake--forget it on hees head.

Wall! all de winter, w'en we have soiree dat's grande affaire Bateese Trudeau, dit Waterhole, de be de boss man dere-- You bet he have beeg tam!--but w'en de spring is come encore He's buy premiere cla.s.se tiquette for go on State some more.

You 'member w'en de hard tam come on Les Etats-Unis, An' plaintee Canayens go back for stay deir own contree?

Wall! jus' about dat' tam again I go Riviere du Loup For sole me two-t'ree load of hay--mak' leetle visit too.

De freight train she is jus' arrive--only ten hour delay; She's never carry pa.s.sengaire--dat's w'at dey always say.

I see poor man on char caboose--he's got heem small valise.

Begosh! I nearly tak' de fit.--It is--it is Bateese!

He know me very well dis tam, an' say, "Bon jour, mon vieux.

I hope you know Bateese Trudeau was educate wit' you.

I'm jus' come off de State to see ma familee encore; I bus' mesef on Central Fall--I don't go dere no more.

"I got no monee--not at all! I'm broke it up for sure.

Dat's locky t'ing, Napoleon, de brakeman, Joe Latour, He's cousin of wan frien' of me call Camille Valiquette, Conductor too's good Canayen--don't ax me no tiquette."

I tak' Bateese wit' me once more "Hotel du Canadaw."

An' he was glad for get de chance drink some good w'iskey blanc!

Dat's warm heem up, and den he eat mos' ev'ryt'ing he see; I watch de w'ole beez-nesse mese'f--Monjee! he was hongree!

Madame Charette, w'at's kip de place, get very much excite For see de many pork an' bean Bateese put out of sight-- Du pain dore--potato pie--an' 'noder t'ing be dere, But w'en Bateese is get heem t'roo--dey go I don't know w'ere.

It don't tak' long for tole de news "Bateese come off de State."

An' purty soon we have beeg crowd, lak village she's en fete.

Bonhomme Maxime Trudeau hese'f he's comin' wit' de pries'

An' pa.s.s heem on de "Room for eat" w'ere he is see Bateese.

Den ev'rybody feel it glad, for watch de embra.s.ser, An' bimeby de old man spik. "Bateese, you here for stay?"

Bateese, he's cry lak beeg bebe, "Ba, j'eux rester ici.

An' if I never see de State, I'm sure I don't care--me."

"Correc'," Maxime is say right off. "I place you on de farm For help your poor ole fader; won't do you too moche harm.

Please come wit' me on Magasin, I feex you up--ba oui, An' den you're ready for go home an' see de familee."

Wall! w'en de old man an' Bateese come off de Magasin Bateese is los' hees Yankee clothes--he's dress lak Canayen Wit' bottes sauvages--ceinture flechee--an' coat wit' capuchon An' spik Francais au naturel, de sam' as habitant.

I see Bateese de oder day, he's work hees fader's place.

I t'ink mese'f he's satisfy--I see dat on hees face.

He say, "I got no use for State, mon cher Napoleon.

Kebeck, she's good enough for me--Hooraw! pour Canadaw."

THE j.a.pANESE REPORTER

We do not know to this day to what circ.u.mstance we owed the honour of appearing in print in j.a.pan--whether we were mistaken for individuals of distinction, or whether we were considered remarkable on our own merits on account of being by ourselves; but we went downstairs fully believing it to be a custom of the country, a rather flattering custom, to which we were much pleased to conform; and this is a true chronicle of what happened.

It was a slender, round-faced youth who made his deprecating bow to us in the drawing-room. His shoulders sloped, his gray-blue kimono lay in narrow folds across his chest like what the old-fashioned people at home used to call a sontag. American boots were visible under the skirt of the garment, and an American stiff felt hat reposed on the sofa beside him. His thick, short black hair stood crisply on end, and out of his dark eyes slanted a look of modest inquiry. He was the most unaggressive reporter I have ever seen. His boots and his hat were the only things about him that I could connect with journalism, as I had previously been acquainted with it.

"How do you do?" I said, seeing that the silence must be broken and the preliminaries gone through with by somebody.

"Yes!" he responded, with an amiability that induced Orthodocia to get up hurriedly and look out of the window. "Did the radies arrive to the _Duke of Westminster_?" looking from one to the other of us.

"We believe they did!" gasped Orthodocia, and immediately looked out of the window again. I edged my chair toward the other window. Then the cloven foot appeared in the shape of a note-book. He produced it with gentle ostentation, as one would a trump card. The simile is complete when I add that he took it from his sleeve.

"How old is rady?" calmly, deliberately.

"I--I forget," falsified this historian; "forty-five, I believe."

The reporter put it down.

"Other rady, your friend,--not so old? Older? More old?"

"I am twenty-two years of age," said Orthodocia gravely, with a reproachful glance at me, "and I weigh ten stone. Height, five feet eight inches. In shoes, I am in the habit of wearing fives; in gloves, six and a half."

The reporter scribbled convulsively.

"Radies will study j.a.panese porryticks--please say."

"I beg pardon?"

"Yes." Fills another page.

Orthodocia, suavely, "Are they produced here to any extent?"

"We have here many porryticks--ribarer, conservative, monarchist."

"Oh!" more recourse to the window.

"Orthodocia," I said severely, "you may not be aware of it, but your conduct is throwing discredit upon a person hitherto fairly ent.i.tled to the world's good opinion--which is me. Continue to be absorbingly interested in that brick wall, and allow me to talk to the gentleman."

"We have come," I said distinctly--Orthodocia bears testimony to the fact that I said it distinctly--"to see j.a.pan as far as j.a.pan will permit. Her politics, system of education, customs, and arts will be of--ahem!--interest to us. We cannot truthfully say that we expect to penetrate more deeply into the national life than other travellers have done. In repressing this expectation we claim to be original. We confess that our impressions will naturally be superficial, but we hope to represent the crust so charmingly that n.o.body will ask for any of the--interior--of the--well, of the pie."

"That's equivocal," said Orthodocia, "and ridiculous."

"Notwithstanding the well-known reticence of the j.a.panese," I continued, "we hope to meet some of them who will show us something more of their domesticity than we can see through the windows."

"You will acquire ranguage of j.a.pan?"

"Not all of it, I think. It seems a little difficult, but musical--much more musical than our ugly English," interposed Orthodocia.

"Yes. Will you the story of your journey please say?"

"Certainly. We came from Montreal to Vancouver by the C.P.R.--that is the best Western railroad on the continent, because it is built with English capital," bombastically. "Some people say that you never would have heard of Canada in j.a.pan but for the C.P.R., but I am told that they are mostly jealous Republican Americans."