In my favorite scene from the Hollywood blockbuster movie, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (Steven Spielberg, 1989), the title character, a swashbuckling treasure hunter who supports himself by slumming it with an academic job in the Ivy League, insists to his class of sleepy undergraduates that "90% of an archaeologist's time is spent in the library. Myths can only be taken at face value. We do not follow maps to buried treasures, and X never ever marks the spot." In the end, of course, it is precisely this assumption that he must discard in order to gain the advantage. Speaking as a student of church history, one sensitive to the critical turn in place-name studies and taking cues from an emerging interdisciplinary field of inquiry called cognitive toponymy, in this short paper I would like to begin to describe how, like Indy's intrepid character in the film, I have come to an appreciation that, just occasionally, X does, in fact, mark the spot. 1 My conclusions are preliminary and tentative, and much research remains to be done into what I term here imperial hagiotoponymy, the naming of places in settler colonies for saints. However, through an exploration of Victorian High Church devotion to St. Alban the Martyr, his name, attributes, and emblem, and by tracing the network between the first three Anglican dedications to his patronage in Canada across two important dioceses, the outlines of a previously invisible Imperialist cult begin to emerge. 2