Le Chien dOr | Page 4

GRAVES AND WORMS AND EPITAPHS"
XLIII. SILK GLOVES OVER BLOODY HANDS
XLIV. THE INTENDANT'S DILEMMA
XLV. "I WILL FEED FAT THE ANCIENT GRUDGE I BEAR HIM"
XLVI. THE BOURGEOIS PHILIBERT
XLVII. A DRAWN GAME
XLVIII. "IN GOLD CLASPS LOCKS IN THE GOLDEN STORY"
XLIX. THE MARKET-PLACE ON ST. MARTIN'S DAY

L. "BLESSED THEY WHO DIE DOING THY WILL"
LI. EVIL NEWS RIDES POST
LII. THE LAMP OF REPENTIGNY
LIII. "LOVELY IN DEATH THE BEAUTEOUS RUIN LAY"
LIV. "THE MILLS OF GOD GRIND SLOWLY"

THE GOLDEN DOG.
(LE CHIEN D'OR.)
CHAPTER I.
MEN OF THE OLD RÉGIME.
"'See Naples, and then die!' That was a proud saying, Count, which we
used to hear as we cruised under lateen sails about the glorious bay that
reflects from its waters the fires of Vesuvius. We believed the boast
then, Count. But I say now, 'See Quebec, and live forever!' Eternity
would be too short to weary me of this lovely scene--this bright
Canadian morning is worthy of Eden, and the glorious landscape
worthy of such a sun-rising."
Thus exclaimed a tall, fair Swedish gentleman, his blue eyes sparkling,
and every feature glowing with enthusiasm, Herr Peter Kalm, to His
Excellency Count de la Galissonière, Governor of New France, as they
stood together on a bastion of the ramparts of Quebec, in the year of
grace 1748.
A group of French and Canadian officers, in the military uniforms of
Louis XV., stood leaning on their swords, as they conversed gaily
together on the broad gravelled walk at the foot of the rampart. They
formed the suite in attendance upon the Governor, who was out by
sunrise this morning to inspect the work done during the night by the

citizens of Quebec and the habitans of the surrounding country, who
had been hastily summoned to labor upon the defences of the city.
A few ecclesiastics, in black cassocks, dignitaries of the Church,
mingled cheerfully in the conversation of the officers. They had
accompanied the Governor, both to show their respect, and to
encourage, by their presence and exhortations, the zeal of the colonists
in the work of fortifying the capital.
War was then raging between old England and old France, and between
New England and New France. The vast region of North America,
stretching far into the interior and southwest from Canada to Louisiana,
had for three years past been the scene of fierce hostilities between the
rival nations, while the savage Indian tribes, ranged on the one side and
on the other, steeped their moccasins in the blood of French and
English colonists, who, in their turn, became as fierce, and carried on
the war as relentlessly, as the savages themselves.
Louisbourg, the bulwark of New France, projecting its mailed arm
boldly into the Atlantic, had been cut off by the English, who now
overran Acadia, and began to threaten Quebec with invasion by sea and
land. Busy rumors of approaching danger were rife in the colony, and
the gallant Governor issued orders, which were enthusiastically obeyed,
for the people to proceed to the walls and place the city in a state of
defence, to bid defiance to the enemy.
Rolland Michel Barrin, Count de la Galissonière, was remarkable no
less for his philosophical attainments, that ranked him high among the
savans of the French Academy, than for his political abilities and
foresight as a statesman. He felt strongly the vital interests involved in
the present war, and saw clearly what was the sole policy necessary for
France to adopt in order to preserve her magnificent dominion in North
America. His counsels were neither liked nor followed by the Court of
Versailles, then sinking fast into the slough of corruption that marked
the closing years of the reign of Louis XV.
Among the people who admired deeds more than words the Count was
honored as a brave and skilful admiral, who had borne the flag of

France triumphantly over the seas, and in the face of her most powerful
enemies--the English and Dutch. His memorable repulse of Admiral
Byng, eight years after the events here recorded,--which led to the
death of that brave and unfortunate officer, who was shot by sentence
of court martial to atone for that repulse,--was a glory to France, but to
the Count brought after it a manly sorrow for the fate of his opponent,
whose death he regarded as a cruel and unjust act, unworthy of the
English nation, usually as generous and merciful as it is brave and
considerate.
The Governor was already well-advanced in years. He had entered
upon the winter of life, that sprinkles the head with snow that never
melts, but he was still hale, ruddy, and active. Nature had, indeed,
moulded him in an unpropitious hour for personal comeliness, but in
compensation had seated a great