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Updated: June 16, 2025
Moving over a small levee we came to the pointe de Maraa, where was the Grotto of Maraa, a gigantic recess worn in the solid wall of rock, a dark mysterious interior, which gave me a momentary surge of my childhood dread and love of caves and secret entrances to pirates' lairs. The diligence halted at the request of M. Brault, and he and I jumped out and ran to the grotto.
"But, sir," cries Bonaventure, "why consume the spelling-book? Give, yourself, if you please, to Toutou, a word not therein comprise'." He glanced around condescendingly upon the people of Grande Pointe. Chat-oué is in a front seat. Toutou gathers himself for the spring, and the stranger ponders a moment and then gives "Florida!" "F-l-o, flo, warr-de-warr-da, Florida!"
As plainly as one knows a green tree from a dead one, the Crusoe of Grande Pointe recognized one who came from the haunts of men; from some great nerve-centre of human knowledge and power where the human mind, trained and equipped, had piled up the spoils of its innumerable conquests. His whole form lighted up with a new life.
Shortly afterwards, we left for the Teche region, where lands had been granted to us by the government. We wended our way, to our destined homes, through dismal swamps, through bayous without number and across lakes until we reached Portage Sauvage, at Fausse Pointe.
"Once upon a time," said Raoul, warming with his subject, "we were coming down from Pointe Macarty in three pirogues. We had been three days fishing and hunting in Lake Salvador. Bras-Coupé had one pirogue with six paddles " "Oh, yes!" cried a youth named Baltazar; "sing that, Raoul!" And he sang that.
She wondered how many miles a day she could learn to walk if she should start out into the world on foot to find somebody, as she had heard that Bonaventure had once done to find her mother's lover. There are no Bonaventures now, she thinks, in these decayed times. "Mamma," her speech was French, "why do we never see Bonaventure? How far is it to Grande Pointe?"
I felt that God was blessing me when those words were pronounced. I was in Beauport Asylum; Dr. Roy over there knows it, but I thank the Crown for destroying his testimony. I was in the Lunatic Asylum at Longue Pointe, near Montreal, also; and would like to see my old friends, Dr. Lachapelle and Dr. Howard, who treated me so charitably.
It seemed to have been a misunderstanding, however. The infuriated parishioners of Pointe Claire, who would not be comforted, on being appealed to, to go to their homes, frequently raised the cry of "Vive le Roi." It might be supposed that the Ste. Claire people meant to wish a long and happy reign to His Imperial Majesty Napoleon, as Mr. Ryland shrewdly suspected.
Uncle George asked me to go with himself and the nine along Hog's Back. As I had no gun, and only one arm in full working order, I might be useful in carrying any change of orders to the other party. There was no sound of their coming yet, but the pull round Derrible Pointe would account for that. So we stole silently along to our appointed places.
Some were to old residents of Newport News and Kecoughtan and several were issued to new arrivals. One grant for 150 acres to Maurice Thompson had been made as early as March 4, 1621. Patented acreage at "Blunt Pointe" and "belowe Blunt Point" in 1625 embraced some 2,200 acres and 1,390 acres respectively.
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