ar, within his apartment the atmosphere of peace
reigned with a visible, tangible presence. The seminary where he resided
was within a stone's throw of the barracks in Cathedral Square, but
whereas the one was the continual theatre of anxiety and excitement, the
other was the scene of perpetual confidence and repose. And yet, this
lonely man was a principal actor in the events of 1775-76. His influence
had been, and was still, omnipotent and all pervading. From his quiet
retreat he had sent forth a pastoral, at the beginning of hostilities,
commending loyalty to Britain, and exhorting all his followers to obey
the teachings and example of their curates. And his voice had been
heard. But for him, there is no telling how different the circumstances
of the invasion of Canada would have been. If Guy Carleton was Knighted
for his successful defence of Quebec, surely Monseigneur Briand should
have received some token of favor from those whom he so faithfully
served. Without the spiritual power, the material force could not have
availed, and the sword of the commander would have been lifted in vain
but for the Bishop's crook that scattered the initial obstacles of the
contest.

The prelate received M. Belmont with the utmost kindness, for they were
old friends. Placing his thumb within the closed leaves of his breviary,
he asked his visitor to unfold to him freely the object of his coming,
although there was an expression in his countenance which showed that he
divined the object. M. Belmont, who was agitated at first, gradually
acquired sufficient self-possession to give a full explanation of his
case. He detailed his grievances, his apprehensions, and explained the
radical change which he had undergone in his political opinions. He
ended by pointedly asking the Bishop whether he was not justified in
taking a decided stand.

Monseigneur had listened unmoved to the whole history, occasionally
smiling languidly, occasionally looking very serious. His reply was
given in the kindest tones, but there was the conscious authority of the
chief pastor in every word which he uttered.

"I too am a Frenchman, my friend," he said. "I have my feelings, my
prejudices, my aspirations, like every other man. If I consulted only my
heart, I believe you can guess where it would have led me. But I consult
my head. I remember that I have a conscience. I am reminded that I have
stern duties, as Bishop, to fulfil. The responsibility of them is
so