On the evening before we reached Quebec, we stopped at the village of St. Augustin Calvaire, and after having strolled about for some time, returned to the farm house where we had taken up our quarters for the night. The people had cooked some fish, that had been just caught, while we had been walking about, and every thing being ready on our return, we sat down to supper by the light of a lamp, which was suspended from the ceiling. The glimmering light, however, that it afforded, scarcely enabled us to see what was on the table; we complained of it to the man of the house, and the lamp was in consequence trimmed; it was replenished with oil; taken down and set on the table; still the light was very bad. “Sacre Dieu!” exclaimed he, “but you shall not eat your fish in the dark;” so saying, he stepped aside to a small cupboard, took out a candle, and having lighted it, placed it beside us. All was now going on well, when the wife, who had been absent for a few minutes, suddenly returning, poured forth a volley of the most terrible execrations against her poor husband for having presumed to have acted as he had done. Unable to answer a single word, the fellow stood aghast, ignorant of what he had done to offend her; we were quite at a loss also to know what could have given rise to such a sudden storm; the wife, however, snatching up the candle, and hastily extinguishing it, addressed us in a plaintive tone of voice, and explained the whole affair. It was the holy candle—“La chandelle benite,” which her giddy husband had set on the table; it had been consecrated at a neighbouring church, and supposing there should be a tempest at any time, with thunder and lightning ever so terrible, yet if the candle were but kept burning while it lasted, the house, the barn, and every thing else belonging to it, were to be secured from all danger. If any of the family happened to be sick, the candle was to be lighted, and they were instantly to recover. It had been given to her that morning by the priest of the village, with an assurance that it possessed the miraculous power of preserving the family from harm, and she was confident that what he told her was true.—To have contradicted the poor woman would have been useless; for the sake of our ears, however, we endeavoured to pacify her, and that being accomplished, we sat down to supper, and e’en made the most of our fish in the dark. The village of St. Augustin Calvaire is about five leagues from Quebec, at which last place we arrived early on the next morning, the fourth of our voyage. When the wind is fair, and the tide favourable also, it does not take more than two days to go from Montreal to Quebec. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ +LETTER + XXIV.