cellar, as an ill-fitting trap door with wide cracks was directly under the official desk. The cellar, however, did not contain the missing document, and I was almost in despair of recovering for some time my lost property, when a happy inspiration came to me, and I inquired if they sold envelopes. "Ah! oui, madame," they did, and among the envelopes ready to be sold at about a cent a piece was my letter containing fifty dollars cash, which, minus my persistence, might have found its way into the pocket of some honest or dishonest purchaser. But all is well that ends well, and I parted from my post office friends with expressions of mutual regard, and fearing to do them harm, believing so fully in their integrity, I never spoke of the matter; but when, some years later, I heard the Post Office Inspector had made radical changes, I thought it was beneficial to the general public. *THE SUBTERRANEAN PASSAGES OF THE CITADEL, QUEBEC.* In the year ——, the late lamented Lieut. Fayrer, ordinance officer, came to Quebec on a tour of inspection as to supplies needed (accompanied by his wife, Lizzie Henshawe, a cousin). He asked us if we would like to accompany him through the underground passages of the Citadel, very rarely open to visitors. We gratefully accepted the offer, and so well guarded was the secrecy of these premises, it was with the utmost astonishment the soldiers present heard that underneath their Citadel were miles of underground passages for transfer in case of siege, large rooms for the refuge of women and children, and places for the safe depositing of treasure. We accompanied him, and I remember going down stairs intersected with heavy iron doors and through long passages with only outlets for muskets to give light, then into large damp underground chambers for a safe.