olden times when the seigneur fed his labourers under his own roof. On
making a formal call at the manor house one noted that some of the rooms
were of fine proportions and that a good many old portraits and
miniatures hung on the walls. This all spoke of a past; and yet of it
one asked little and knew nothing.

Just across the bay stood another manor house; of stone, too, in this
case not concealed by a covering of wood. Thick walls crowned by a
mansard roof spoke of a respectable age. This manor house, also looked
out on the bay and across the St. Lawrence. One knew that it was named
Mount Murray Manor, while that on the right bank of the river Murray was
called Murray Bay Manor. It was said vaguely that a Colonel Fraser had
dwelt at Mount Murray and a Colonel Nairne at Murray Bay; but all that
one heard was loose tradition and there were no Nairnes or Frasers of
whom one might ask questions. One could see that, in both places,
something like an old world dignity of life had in the past been kept
up.

Making a call at the Murray Bay Manor House, I was told one day of a
manuscript volume in which the first seigneur had copied some of his
letters. I begged to be allowed to spend an afternoon or two in looking
through it. I went and went again. To me the book was absorbing. It told
the story of the first people of British origin who went to settle at
Malbaie, which they named Murray Bay, just after the British conquest;
of the career of a soldier brother of Colonel Nairne who died in India
not long after Plassey; of campaigns fought by Colonel Nairne during the
period of the American Revolution; of his plans and hopes as the ruler
of the little community where he settled. When I had read the book
through, I asked if there was not something more. Yes, there were some
old letters, preserved in a lumber room at the top of the house. These