and go through the drill as if he were commanding still. His death finally rescued her from such a life, but by that time her nervous system had become so thoroughly unhinged, her mind gave way, and the last I knew of her was her being sent to the lunatic asylum, having no child or relative to care for her. A sad comment on an ill-placed mother’s ambition. At the opposite corner of said stone house was a pretty little residence occupied at one time and owned by the late Major Temple, adjoining which was his father-in-law’s residence, the late Hon. Chief Justice Jonathan Sewell. Both these houses still stand, but in vain I look for the pretty lace curtains, and the two parrots on their stands, calling to you through the bright flowers in the window of the late Major Temple’s residence. As an old Quebecer I am ashamed to say that pretty house has been the one blot on the whole of Quebec’s loveliest street. It has been turned into a petty candy shop, a couple of bottles of sweets, two or three sugar-sticks and halfpenny cakes, and a notice, "Registry Office for Servants," replaces the view of the parrots and flowers. Were I rich I should purchase the property myself, and for old times let some one occupy it who would keep up somewhat its former appearance. Such a thing would not have occurred in Montreal. The Montrealers have too much ambition for their city to let it deteriorate, and consequently property becomes more valuable every day. Why, to think Americans should have been permitted to carry off bodily the house where Montgomery’s body was laid and are making a fortune out of it, having set it up as an Indian curiosity shop in some part of the States. Why not have done it here? Strolling on through the beautiful St. Louis Gate, past the new armory, certainly a credit to the old city, and past rows of handsome new houses, we come to a solid looking building with a golden lion sign. When I looked at it, I wondered if it was chosen to beguile the innocent into the impression that they were at the old chien d’or. It does not need that it has memories enough of its own, for here lived the late A. Joseph, Esq., and his amiable wife, one of the most charming of hostesses, and who gave us any number of pleasant parties, but almost every house on that street (then, as now, quite a fashionable one) is associated with pleasant recollections. The one just inside the toll gate on the left was then occupied by Capt. Charles Campbell, a retired officer of Her Majesty’s 99th, I think, father of our old friend, A. C., joint Prothonotary of Quebec.