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THE INDIAN ADVOCATE. 175 tie scrutiny, left the grassy road and wandered into a pinery, where the dark branches shut in a twilight. Somewhere among the pines a child was singing, and the young voice rose in ripples nature had taught, sweet and penetrating as the song of a bird that swayed to its own mel ody upon a bough near him. The chorus came distinctively: "Sauvez notre patrie, par votre Sacre Cceur; Sauvez notre patrie, par votre Sacre Cceur." The words and the strangely appearing air thrilled him as he walked on to find the singer. He passed noiselessly over' the pine-needles and the voice led him to her. She sat upon a knoll covered with violets and Spring beauty, a tiny, white-robed figure with a pair of small, dark hands, heaping blossoms upon the basket by her side. The child turned a startled face toward the stranger and sank back into her mossy seat. Her round, dark eyes widened in mag nificent beauty; the song died trembling on her baby-mouth. "Will you tell me, ma petite, who taught you the hymn?" he asked her gently, approaching the knoll. For a moment the child sat amazed then the small fig ure darted up and away through the pines, leaving Jean to stand remorseful, as one who had unwittingly frightened a bird from its nest. A moment later two small dusky faces peered at him out of the shrubbery, and he left the place hur riedly to let the little bird return, he said to himself. He knew the child must be one of the flower-girls who were to walk in the procession; but the hymn that rose so prayerfully from the child puzzled him. Who taught her that? Was it often sung by these people? He marvelled, remembering that the child had sung it caressingly as a fav orite. "Save our Fatherland By Thy Sacred Heart." The words would not leave him; the pines seemed to take them up.