etter situated for the future capital of an empire."

But the dainty and luxurious _Comtesse_ had no taste for pioneer life,
and no thought of leaving her silken-draped _boudoir_ for a home in a
rude fort on a rock; she therefore accepted the offer of a domicile with
her kindred spirit, Mademoiselle d'Outrelaise. The "_Divines_," as they
were called, established a _Salon_, which, among the many similar
coteries of the time, was remarkable for its wit and gaiety. It set the
fashion to French society, and was affected by all the leading spirits
of the Court and Capital.

Although an occasional _billet_ came from the recreant spouse to her
husband in the Castle St. Louis, no home life nor welcoming domestic
fireside threw a charm over his exile. The glamour with which affection
can glorify even the rudest surroundings was denied him in his long life
of seventy-six years.

To avoid the confusion to which the terms Fort St. Louis and Castle St.
Louis might lead, it must be understood that they in a measure were the
same, as the one enclosed the other.

In the year 1834, two hundred and fourteen years after the foundation of
this Chateau, a banquet was prepared for the reception of those invited
to partake of the official hospitality of the Governor; when suddenly
the tocsin sounded,--the dreaded alarm of fire. Soon the streets were
thronged with citizens, with anxious enquiries passing from lip to lip,
and ere long the cry was uttered: "To the Castle, to the Castle!"

The entire population of merchants and artisans, soldiers from the
garrison, priests from the monasteries, and citizens, rich and poor,
joined hands with the firemen to save the mediaeval fortress from
destruction, and its treasured contents from the flames. Old silver was
snatched from the banquet table by some who had expected to sit around
the board as guests.

At the head of the principal staircase, where it had stood for fifty
years or more, was a bust of Wolfe, with the inscription upon it:--

"Let no vain tear upon this bust be shed,
A common tribute to the common dead,
But let the good, the generous, the brave,
With God-like envy sigh for such a grave."

Fortunately, in the confusion of the disaster it was not overlooked, but
was carried to a place of safety. While every heart present could not
but be moved with the deepest feelings of regret at the loss of its
hoary walls, yet the beholder was forced to admire the magnificent