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Others she has named, but as her recollections of them are less distinct, they are not enumerated. Jean Jacques Lartigue, Bishop of Telmese, Montreal. The Irish Priest McMahon, who has resided both in Montreal and Quebec. M. Dufrense, St. Nicholas. L. Cadieux, Vicar General, Three Rivers. F. F. Marcoux, Maskinonge. S. N. Dumoulin, Yamachiche. A. Leclerc, Yomaska. V. Fournier, Baie du Febre.

There was the place where Cadieux, the white hunter, went ashore single-handed to hold the Iroquois at bay, while his comrades escaped by running the rapids; but Cadieux was assailed by a subtler foe than the Iroquois, la folie des bois, the folly of the woods, that sends the hunter wandering in endless circles till he dies from hunger; and when his companions returned, Cadieux lay in eternal sleep with a death chant scribbled on bark across his breast.

The dying man peeled off the white bark of the birch, and with the juice of berries wrote upon it his death song, which was found long after by the side of his remains. His grave is now a marked spot on the Ottawa. La Complainte de Cadieux had seized the imagination of Amelie.

The last sighs of Cadieux seemed to expire on her lips: "'Rossignole, va dire a ma maitresse, A mes enfans, qu'un adieu je leur laisse, Que j'ai garde mon amour et ma foi, Et desormais faut renoncer a moi." A few more friends of the family dropped in Coulon de Villiers, Claude Beauharnais, La Corne St. Luc, and others, who had heard of the lady's departure and came to bid her adieu.

He resolved that, come what might, he would emancipate his intended wife from a life of such slavery, and so, having carefully arranged his business and purchased a neat little cottage in Cadieux street, he urged Miss Ryland to consent to marry him without delay, and so avoid her life of thraldom.

Some one strikes up a plaintive ditty, the voyageur's song of the lost lady and the faded roses, or the dying farewell of Cadieux, the hunter, to his comrades, and the adventurers are launched for the Western Sea. Every mile westward was consecrated by heroism.

Several months elapsed, and I had, for the time, thought little of either Mr. and Mrs. Quintin, when one evening in glancing over the papers, my eye fell on the following announcement: "On the th inst., at Cadieux street the wife of R. Quintin of a daughter." I let the paper drop as I gazed vacantly at the ceiling and tried to realize the whole affair.

Undecided how to act, I mechanically put on my bonnet and cloak, and walked up Cadieux street, when, coming out of the house, I spied my friend, Dr. "Good evening, Doctor," said I. "Oh, good evening, Mrs. Schroeder. I have just been attending a patient of yours; it seems they were not at all prepared, and had not time to notify you.

Alighting, he preceded me to his surgery, and closed the door; then, with a look full of meaning, he said: "Well, what is there wrong here?" "I said, Before I reply, will you permit me to ask you one or two questions." "Who called you to attend Mrs. Quintin?" "A carter came and requested me to come with all speed to attend a lady in Cadieux street.

He would tell them, perhaps, the pathetic story of Cadieux, who, on this very stream, had held the dreaded Iroquois at bay while his comrades escaped. Cadieux himself escaped the Iroquois, only to fall a victim to the folie des bois, or madness of the woods, wandering aimlessly in circles, until, famished and exhausted, he lay down to die.