had just taken fire we heard a cry, and, on
going up, found a poor wounded Canadian, utterly incapable of moving,
whom the flames had just reached; in a few minutes he would have been
burned alive: we dragged him out, and gave him in charge of the
soldiers, who carried him to the hospital.

But what was this compared to the scene which presented itself in the
church! But a few weeks back, crowds were there, kneeling in adoration
and prayer; I could fancy the Catholic priests in their splendid stoles,
the altar, its candlesticks and ornaments, the solemn music, the
incense, and all that, by appealing to the senses, is so favourable to
the cause of religion with the ignorant and uneducated; and what did I
now behold?--nothing but the bare and blackened walls, the glowing beams
and rafters, and the window-frames which the flames still licked and
flickered through. The floor had been burnt to cinders, and upon and
between the sleepers on which the floor had been laid, were scattered
the remains of human creatures, injured in various degrees, or destroyed
by the fire; some with merely the clothes burnt off, leaving the naked
body; some burnt to a deep brown tinge; others so far consumed that the
viscera were exposed; while here and there the blackened ribs and
vertebra were all that the fierce flames had spared.

Not only inside of the church, but without its walls, was the same
revolting spectacle. In the remains of the small building used as a
receptacle for the coffins previous to interment, were several bodies,
heaped one upon another, and still burning, the trestles which had once
supported the coffins serving as fuel; and further off were bodies still
unscathed by fire, but frozen hard by the severity of the weather.

I could not help thinking, as I stood contemplating this melancholy
scene of destruction, bloodshed, and sacrilege, that if Mr Hume or Mr
Roebuck had been by my side, they might have repented their inflammatory
and liberal opinions, as here they beheld the frightful effects of them.

VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

Crossing the river St Lawrence at this season of the year is not very
pleasant, as you must force your passage through the large masses of
ice, and are occasionally fixed among them; so that you are swept down
the current along with them. Such was our case for about a quarter of
an hour, and, in consequence, we landed about three miles lower down
than we had intended. The next day