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coals. One of the nurses took her by the arm and carried her down stairs, to be placed by herself; this is the greatest punishment inflicted. She instantly became subdued, cried, and begged to be allowed to remain above.

I asked a sad-looking old woman, who sat rocking herself to and fro on a chair, how long she had been in this place? She told me she had forgotten, years and years ago. The stronger patients are often very kind to the crippled and weak, carrying them about for hours in the sunshine; but the mad seem to have a great hatred and contempt for the idiots, and would often beat them, were they allowed.

Most of the men were out of doors at work, or picking oakum in the sheds. A fine-looking young fellow held my horse, sitting for more than an hour in the conveyance. He was considered one of the most trustworthy, having sense enough to know that he was mad; but for the awful stare of his eyes, I should not have noticed any peculiarity in his appearance or manner. While I was preparing to leave, about a dozen other male patients returned from their labour, accompanied by a keeper. As they passed, one of them was pointed out for my observation: a quiet, mild

looking man, about fifty years of age. Respectably connected, and formerly prosperous in the world, he had become insane, had now for many years been in confinement, and was remarkable for gentleness and obedience. Some time ago, at an asylum at Montreal, while employed with another patient in cutting up wood, he seized an opportunity when his companion was stooping, and struck off the man's head with an axe; afterwards he quietly resumed his work. Neither at that time, nor ever since, has he been in the least violent; the deed seemed to cause him neither joy nor sorrow. He was quite unconscious that he had done any thing unusual.

In summer, many of the patients are employed on the farm, or as builders and carpenters: an icehouse for their use has just been finished by one of them. Some of the convalescents are allowed occasionally to visit their friends, and always return punctually at the time appointed. With very few exceptions, music appears to cause them great pleasure, soothing, rather than exciting them. They often dance, and are very fond of the amusement. In the spring, when the navigation opens, they crowd round the windows, and gaze with delight at the ships sailing up the magnificent river,

particularly those patients who have come from the old country; they seem to have a vague idea that these stately ships are brought here to bear them home.

Some of them talk a great deal to each other, but seldom get, or seem to expect, answers to what they say. It pleases them much to speak to visitors, and they then make an effort to tell what may be asked of them, but will not take this pains with their fellow-patients. It is not worth while; they know that they are mad.

CHAPTER VIII.

FIRE.

THE 28th of May, 1845, will long be remembered at Quebec. The day was scorching hot, with a high wind, and clouds of dust rushing along the roads, in exposed places spinning round and round in little whirlwinds, almost choking those who were caught in their vortex.

But this is the busy time of the year; the streets and shops are crowded, the river covered with floating rafts of timber. Every hour, ships of the spring fleet round Point Levy, and make their numbers, in coloured flags, to their joyful owners. Masons and carpenters are hard at work, building on the vacant spaces of the streets, or repairing the ruins from small winter conflagrations. Over the rich valley of the St. Charles the husbandmen ply the spade and plough, and on the plains of

Abraham a regiment of soldiers are skirmishing in

loose and picturesque array. betokens life and activity.

Every thing around

Sudden and harsh

among these pleasant scenes, the bells of the churches of St. Roch ring out the well known alarm of FIRE. It was a quarter of an hour before noon when the first peal sounded.

Shortly afterwards, from among the thick clouds of dust arose a thin column of white smoke, at the far end of the suburb of St. Vallière, under the steep cliff. At first but little attention was excited, it was so common an occurrence, and only a few firemen hastened to the spot. They found that a large tannery had taken fire. The fire had spread

to some extent, and there was great difficulty in procuring water. Sparks, and now and then a flame, began to shoot up into the smoke, already thick and much increased. The locality is unfortunate, for all the buildings round are of wood; the population, too, chiefly of simple and unener getic French-Canadians, is very dense.

The sparks are borne away on the wind-but for this wind all would yet be well-and they rest on the dry shingle roofs; however, numbers of people are at hand, perched on the tops of the houses, to protect them. For about an hour the progress is

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