I was allowed to see. This task, too, was of great interest and I spent
the better part of a summer holiday reading, analyzing, and copying
letters. Some of them told of the schoolboy days, in Edinburgh, of the
old Colonel's son and heir, the second seigneur, of this son's life at
Gibraltar at the time when Trafalgar was fought, of his return to
Canada, of campaigns in the war of 1812. Then there were touching
letters from others to tell how he fell at the battle of Crysler's Farm.
So intimate were the letters that one experienced again the hopes and
fears of more than a century ago. In time, out of the dimness in which
all had been shrouded, Murray Bay's history became clear. Of course one
had to seek some information elsewhere, especially in attempting an
analysis of French Canadian village life. But the story told in this
volume is based chiefly on the papers read during that holiday. Not only
did they enable one to reconstruct the story of a spot made almost
sacred by the joys of many a delightful summer; they furnished, besides,
an outline of the tragic history of a Canadian family. Here at Murray
Bay, a century and a half ago, a brave and distinguished British officer
secured a great estate and made his home. In his letters we read almost
from day to day of his plans. He had a strong heart and a deep faith. He
reared a large family and built not merely for himself but for his
posterity. And yet, just one hundred years after he began his work at
Murray Bay, the last of his descendants was laid in the grave and the
family became extinct. It is the fashion of our modern fiction to end
the tale in sorrow not in joy. Perhaps the fashion has a more real basis
in fact than we like to think. At any rate this true story of the
seigneur of Murray Bay ends with the closed record of his family history
on a granite monument in Quebec. There is no one living for whom the
tale has the special interest that attaches to one's ancestors.

I have received help from many but my deepest obligation is to Mr. E.J.