Just across the bay stood another manor house; of stone, too, in this case not concealed by a covering of wood. Thick walls crowned by a mansard roof spoke of a respectable age. This manor house, also looked out on the bay and across the St. Lawrence. One knew that it was named Mount Murray Manor, while that on the right bank of the river Murray was called Murray Bay Manor. It was said vaguely that a Colonel Fraser had dwelt at Mount Murray and a Colonel Nairne at Murray Bay; but all that one heard was loose tradition and there were no Nairnes or Frasers of whom one might ask questions. One could see that, in both places, something like an old world dignity of life had in the past been kept up. Making a call at the Murray Bay Manor House, I was told one day of a manuscript volume in which the first seigneur had copied some of his letters. I begged to be allowed to spend an afternoon or two in looking through it. I went and went again. To me the book was absorbing. It told the story of the first people of British origin who went to settle at Malbaie, which they named Murray Bay, just after the British conquest; of the career of a soldier brother of Colonel Nairne who died in India not long after Plassey; of campaigns fought by Colonel Nairne during the period of the American Revolution; of his plans and hopes as the ruler of the little community where he settled. When I had read the book through, I asked if there was not something more. Yes, there were some old letters, preserved in a lumber room at the top of the house. These I was allowed to see. This task, too, was of great interest and I spent the better part of a summer holiday reading, analyzing, and copying letters. Some of them told of the schoolboy days, in Edinburgh, of the old Colonel's son and heir, the second seigneur, of this son's life at Gibraltar at the time when Trafalgar was fought, of his return to Canada, of campaigns in the war of 1812. Then there were touching letters from others to tell how he fell at the battle of Crysler's Farm. So intimate were the letters that one experienced again the hopes and fears of more than a century ago. In time, out of the dimness in which all had been shrouded, Murray Bay's history became clear. Of course one had to seek some information elsewhere, especially in attempting an analysis of French Canadian village life. But the story told in this volume is based chiefly on the papers read during that holiday. Not only did they enable one to reconstruct the story of a spot made almost sacred by the joys of many a delightful summer; they furnished, besides, an outline of the tragic history of a Canadian family. Here at Murray Bay, a century and a half ago, a brave and distinguished British officer secured a great estate and made his home. In his letters we read almost from day to day of his plans. He had a strong heart and a deep faith. He reared a large family and built not merely for himself but for his posterity.