# Myths and Legends Beyond Our Borders/Tadousac Bell at Midnight

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TADOUSAC BELL AT MIDNIGHT
TADOUSAC, which stands where the black the sea-like breadth of the St. Lawrence, was one of the early trading and missionary stations of the French, for this bleak region was rumored to be rich in mineral treasure. Cartier landed here in 1535, and told this thumper after reaching home: "In ascending the Saguenay you reach a country where there are men dressed like us, who live in cities, and have much gold, rubies, and copper." He wanted to be governor, you see. The first stone building in America was put up here, and immediate measures were taken to get the gold and rubies away from the Indians. Poor creatures! They had no use for gold so long as they could have iron, and as to a ruby, they never saw one. They did not even have bones to gnaw sometimes, for as you pass along the Saguenay they show the Descente des Femmes, down which the squaws came one winter and made their way over the ice to a friendly settlement, where they got food and carried it to the bucks who were starving at home because they were too dignified to work. These Indians were early reformed, and they loved their helpers and teachers, and so long as the body of Father La Brosse lay in the little church at Tadousac the faithful red men, the Montagnais, who had so often listened to his preaching, never passed up or down ​
The Church at Tadousac
Père La Brosse, last of the Jesuits at this settlement, was taller than common, strong in spite of his seventy years, and, with his white hair falling over his shoulders, was a man of distinguished aspect. The tale of his death is still told among his people, though it occurred more than a century ago. He had been busy among his converts all day, and as night fell he went to the trading-post and passed some hours in pleasant talk with its officers. As he arose to leave he looked with a sad smile over the little company, and said, "Goodby—forever. This is the last of the world for me. At midnight I shall be no more. The bell on the church will tell you so. Come to me, if you will, but please not to touch my body. I desire Messire Compain to bury me. You will find him waiting at the Isle aux Coudres. It will storm, but do not fear. When you go for him your boat shall be unharmed. Farewell, and benedicite."
He was gone. The men stared at one another in amazement. Some laughed nervously and said that the priest was joking. One of them drew out his watch and looked. The time wore on. Their talk flagged, a silence fell, and every face grew ​anxious. The watch marked twelve. Boom! boom! went the bell—slowly,—rung by no human hand,—tolling for a passing soul. All started violently, and every face was white. Then, in a kind of panic, they hurried to the church. Father La Brosse lay before the altar, his hands clasped in prayer, yet held before his face, as if he had been dazzled by a great light. He was dead. They watched in the gloomy place until dawn, when four hardy men offered to fetch Compain. A storm had sprung up, the ice was crashing and piling, and it was an ugly sea they had to face, but a lane of smooth water opened along its frothing surface and they reached the Isle aux Coudres, sixty miles away, in safety, marvelling. Messire Compain was awaiting them on the rocks, breviary in hand. He knew, he said, why they had come, for the bell of his church, also, had struck at the death hour, and a whisper in the air had told him what had befallen. So he went with them to Tadousac and did his office. And they learned afterward that the bell of every mission where Père La Brosse had served during his busy life had tolled, untouched, that night.