midnight
As I mused thus , I had reached the `` Lower Town , '' and found myself opposite the door of a tavern , over which a brilliant lamp illuminated the sign of `` The British Grenadier , '' -- a species of canteen in high favor with sergeants and quartermasters of the garrison . I entered boldly , and with the intention of behaving generously to myself ; but scarcely had I passed the threshold than I heard a sharp voice utter in a half-whisper , `` Dang me if he a n't in livery ! '' I did not wait for more . My `` tact '' assured me that even there I was not admissible ; so I strolled out again , muttering to myself , `` When a man has neither friend nor supper , and the hour is past midnight , the chances are it is ` time to go to bed ; ' '' and with this sage reflection , I wended my way towards a humble lodging-house on the quay , over which , on landing , I read the words , `` The Emigrant 's Home . '' For the sake of conciseness in this veracious history , I prefer making the reader acquainted at once with facts and individuals , not by the slow process in which the knowledge of them was acquired by myself , but in all the plenitude which intimate acquaintance now supplies ; and although this may not seem to accord with the bit-by-bit and day-by-day narrative of a life , it saves a world of time , some patience , and mayhap some skipping too . Under this plea , I have already introduced Sir Dudley Broughton to the reader ; and now , with permission , mean to present Mrs. Davis . Mrs. Davis , relict of Thomas John Davis , was a character so associated with Quebec that to speak of that city without her would be like writing an account of Newfoundland and never alluding to the article `` cod-fish . ''