promenade with united arms; but the evening was beginning to darken round them, and presently the purple comrade was merely a sombre shadow beside the glimmering white. The valleys and the heights now vanished; but the river defined itself by the varicolored light of the ships and steamers that lay, dark, motionless hulks upon its broad breast; the lights of Point Levis swarmed upon the other shore; the Lower Town, two hundred feet below them, stretched an alluring mystery of clustering roofs and lamp-lit windows, and dark and shining streets around the mighty rock, mural-crowned. Suddenly a spectacle peculiarly Northern and characteristic of Quebec revealed itself; a long arch brightened over the northern horizon; the tremulous flames of the aurora, pallid violet or faintly tinged with crimson, shot upward from it, and played with a vivid apparition and evanescence to the zenith. While the stranger looked, a gun boomed from the Citadel, and the wild, sweet notes of the bugle sprang out upon the silence." _THE LOWER TOWN._ On bidding adieu to the lofty plateau which constitutes the Upper Town, on our way to an antiquarian ramble in the narrow, dusty, or muddy thoroughfares of the Lower (as it was formerly styled) the Low Town, we shall cast a glance, a glance only, at the facade of the City Post Office, on the site of which, until razed in 1871, stood that legendary, haunted old house, "LE CHIEN D'OR." Having fully described it elsewhere, [81] let us hurry on, merely looking up as we pass, to the gilt tablet and inscription and its golden dog, gnawing his bone, pretty much as he appeared one hundred and twenty-two years ago, to Capt. John Knox, of the 43rd Regt., on his entering Quebec, after its capitulation on the 18th September, 1759. History has indeed shed very little light on the Golden Dog and its inscription since that date, but romance has seized hold of him, and Kirby, Marmette, Soulard and others have enshrined both with the halo of their imagination. In 1871 the corner stone of the "Chien d'Or" was unearthed; a leaden plate disclosed the following inscription:-- "NICOLAS LAQUIN Dit PHILIBER, _M'a posé le 2e Aoust,_ 1735." We clip the following from KNOX'S JOURNAL, of the siege of Quebec in 1759, at which he was both an actor and an eye-witness:-- "On the right of the descent, leading to the low town, stands a stately old house, said to be the first built of stone in this city (Quebec), and over the front door of it is engraved a dog gnawing a large, fleshy bone, which he has got under and between his fore-feet, with the following whimsical inscription:-- "Je suis le chien qui ronge l'os, Sans en perdre an seul morceau; Le temp viendra, qui n'est pas venu, Je mordrai celui, qui m'aura mordû."