"As Le Gardeur spoke, adds Mr. Kirby; a strain of heavenly harmony arose from the chapel of the Convent of the Ursulines, where they were celebrating midnight service for the safety of New France. Amid the sweet voices that floated up on the notes of the pealing organ was clearly distinguished that of Mère St. Borgia, the aunt of Angélique, who led the choir of nuns. In trills and cadences of divine melody, the voice of Mère St. Borgia rose higher and higher, like a spirit mounting the skies. The words were indistinct, but Angélique knew them by heart. She had visited her aunt in the convent, and had learned the new hymn composed by her for the solemn occasion. As they listened with quiet awe to the supplicating strain, Angélique repeated to Le Gardeur the words of the hymn as it was sung by the choir of nuns:-- Soutenez, grande Reine, Notre pauvre pays! Il est votre domaine, Faites fleurir nos lis! L'Anglais sur nos frontières, Porte ses étandards Exaucez nos prières Protégez nos remparts!" "The hymn ceased. Both stood mute until the watchman cried the hour in the silent street." We shall not follow further the beautiful but heartless Cleopatra through her deadly schemes of conquest, or in her flight after the Intendant. Sixteen years after the departure of the Court beauty, on a dark, stormy winter morning, the 31st December, 1775, a loud note of alarm awoke at dawn from their slumbers the demure denizens of St. Louis street. It was the captain of the guard, Captain Malcolm Fraser, [26] formerly of Fraser's Highlanders (78th), but now of the 84th Royal Emigrants, Col. Allan McLean--who, on going his rounds between 4 and 5 in the morning, had passed the guard at St. Louis gate, and had noticed flashes like lightning on the heights without the works. Convinced it was for an attack, he sent notice to all the guards, and ran down St. Louis street, calling "Turn out" as loud and as often as he could. The alarm soon caught the quick ear of the General (Guy Carleton) and the picquet at the Récollets Convent was instantly turned out. Captain Fraser's alarm was timely. Before eight o'clock on that memorable December morning, Benedict Arnold had been wounded, routed at the Sault au Matelot barricade, and 427 of his daring men taken prisoners of war, whilst the Commander-in-Chief, Brigadier- General Richard Montgomery and thirteen followers were lying dead in their snowy shrouds at Près-de-Ville. The rest had taken flight. The saddest sight ever witnessed in St. Louis street was that which heralded to its awe-struck denizens the issue of the momentous conflict on the adjoining heights in Sept. 1759. In the paper read by the writer before the Literary and Historical Society of Quebec, on the 3rd of December, 1879, the mournful appearance of the French hero, Montcalm, is thus described:--