[70] To St. Francois Street, The Name Of The Historian, Ferland, Was Awarded; The Historian, Robert Christie, [71] Has Also His Street.

This met with general approval.

"On ascending," says Abbe Faillon, "from the Lower to the Upper Town by a tortuous road, contrived betwixt the rocks, and on the right hand side, we reach the Cemetery. [72] This road, which terminated at the Parish Church, [73] divided itself into two, - on one side it led to the Jesuits (Jesuits' College) and to the Hospital (Hotel Dieu); and on the other, to the Indian Fort [74] and to the Castle of Saint Louis. The Castle and King's Fort, guarded by soldiers night and day, under the orders of the Governor, was of an irregular shape, flanked by bastions, fortified by pieces of artillery, and contained in its interior several suites of apartments separated one from the other. At the distance of about forty toises (240 feet) from the Castle was seen, on the south side, a small garden, fenced in, for the use of the Governor, and in front, towards the west, was the Place d'Armes (now the Ring), in the form of a trapezium."

St. John street, for years without a rival as chief commercial thoroughfare for retail trade in dry goods, sees its former busy aspect daily fleeting since the invasion of that bitter foe to wheeled vehicles - the street railway. Its glory is departing: the mercer's showy counter and shelves are gradually replaced by vegetable and fruit stores. Stately shops on Desfosses, Crown and Craig streets are rapidly diverting the Pactolus of the city custom northwards. In the dark ages of the Ancient Capital, when this lengthy, narrow lane was studded with one-story wooden or stone tenements, Old Sol occasionally loved to look down and gladden with his rays its miry footpaths. To our worthy grandfathers 'twas a favorite rendezvous - the via sacra - the Regent street - the Boulevard des Italiens - where the beau monde congregated at 4 P.M., sharp; where the merry jingle of the tandem grelots invaded the frosty air in January; where the freshest toilettes, the daintiest bonnets - those "ducks of bonnets" invented fifty years ago by Mrs. T - d - ensnared admirers; where marten or "silver fox" muffs of portentous size - all the rage then - kept warm and coursing the stream of life in tiny, taper hands, cold, alas! now in Death's pitiless grasp; where the old millionaire, George Pozer, chinked his English guineas or piled up in his desk his army bills. Alas! Jean Bourdon, the pioneer of our land surveyors, you, who, more than two centuries ago, left your name to this vaunted locality - your street as well as your name are getting to be things of the past! Shall we bid adieu to this oft travelled over thoroughfare without deigning a parting glance, as we saunter on, at that low old-fashioned house, No. 84, on the north side of the street, where, for a quarter of a century and more, Monsieur Charles Hamel's book and church ornament emporium held its own against all the other book stores?

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