I Was Young, And Consequently Very
Impressionable.
I had just left college; these extraordinary sounds
and objects would at times make me feel very uneasy.
I pressed close
to my father and dared scarcely breathe; the remembrance of this
subterranean exploration will not easily be forgotten. What were my
sensations when I saw a tombstone, the reader can imagine? 'Here we
are at last,' exclaimed my father and echo repeated his words.
Carefully did we view this monument; presently we detected the letter
'C,' nearly obliterated by the action of time; after remaining there a
few moments, to my unspeakable delight we made our exit from the
chamber of death, and stepping over the ruins, we again alighted on
the green sward. Evidently where we stood had formerly been a garden;
we could still make out the avenues, the walks and plots, over which
plum, lilac and apple trees grew wild.
"I had not yet uttered a word, but my curiosity getting the better of
my fear, I demanded an explanation of this mysterious tombstone. My
father beckoned me towards a shady old maple; we both sat on the turf,
and he then told me as follows: - You have, no doubt, my son, heard of
a French Intendant, of the name of Bigot, who had charge of the public
funds in Canada somewhere about the year 1757; you have also read how
he squandered these moneys and how his Christian Majesty had him sent
to the Bastille when he returned to France, and had his property
confiscated.
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