takes his place in the expeditionary corps; and we have visited a
good many points of interest together, and now and then he talks very
entertainingly about his travels. But I don't think they have made
him very cosmopolitan. It seems as if he went about with a little
imaginary standard, and was chiefly interested in things, to see
whether they fitted it or not. Trifling matters annoy him; and when
he finds sublimity mixed up with absurdity, it almost makes him
angry. One of the oddest and oldest-looking buildings in Quebec is a
little one-story house on St. Louis Street, to which poor General
Montgomery was taken after he was shot; and it is a pastry-cook's
now, and the tarts and cakes in the window vexed Mr. Arbuton so
much--not that he seemed to care for Montgomery--that I didn't dare
to laugh.

I live very little in the nineteenth century at present, and do not
care much for people who do. Still I have a few grains of affection
left for Uncle Jack, which I want you to give him.

I suppose it will take about six stamps to pay this letter. I forgot
to say that Dick goes to be barbered every day at the "Montcalm
Shaving and Shampooing Saloon," so called because they say Montcalm
held his last council of war there. It is a queer little steep-roofed
house, with a flowering bean up the front, and a bit of garden, full
of snap-dragons, before it.

We shall be here a week or so yet, at any rate, and then, I think, we
shall go straight home, Dick has lost so much time already.

With a great deal of love,