This seat, without possessing the extensive grounds, vast river frontage,

and long shady walks of Spencer Wood, or Woodfield, is an eminently

picturesque residence. A new grapery with a lean-to roof, about ninety

feet in length, has just been completed: the choicest [248] varieties of

the grape vine are here cultivated. Several tasty additions have, also,

recently been made to the conservatory, under the superintendence of a

Scotch landscape gardener, Mr. P. Lowe, formerly in charge of the Spencer

Wood conservatories, &c. We had the pleasure on one occasion to view, on a

piercing winter day, from the drawing room of Cataracoui, through the

glass door which opens on the conservatory, the rare collections of

exotics it contains,--a perfect grove of verdure and blossoms,--the whole

lit up by the mellow light of the setting sun, whose rays scintillated in

every fantastic form amongst this gorgeous tropical vegetation, whilst the

snow-wreathed evergreens, surrounding the conservatory waved their palms

to the orb of day in our clear, bracing Canadian atmosphere--summer and

winter combined in one landscape; the tropics and their luxuriant

magnolias, divided by an inch of glass from the realms of old king frost

and his hardy familiars, the pine and the maple. Charming was the

contrast, furnishing a fresh proof of the comfort and luxury with which

the European merchant, once settled in Canada, surrounds his home. What,

indeed, can be more gratifying, during the arctic, though healthy,

temperature of our winter, than to step from a cosy drawing-room, with its

cheerful grate-fire, into a green, floral bower, and inhale the aroma of

the orange and the rose, whilst the eye is charmed by the blossoming

camellia of virgin whiteness; the wisteria, spirea, azalea, rhododendron,

and odorous daphne, all blending their perfume or exquisite tints.

Cataracoui has been recently decorated, we may say, with regal

magnificence, and Sillery is justly proud of this fairy abode, for years

the country seat of the late Charles B. Levey, Esq., and still occupied by

Mrs. Levey and family.

_ROSEWOOD._

"Along their blushing borders, bright with dew,

And in yon mingled wilderness of flowers,

Fair-handed Spring unbosoms every grace;

Throws out the snow-drop and the crocus first;

The daisy, primrose, violet darkly blue,

And polyanthus of unnumber'd dyes;

The yellow wall-flower, stain'd with iron-brown;

And lavish stock that scents the garden round;

From the soft wing of vernal breezes shed,

Anemones; auriculas, enrich'd

With shining meal o'er all their velvet leaves;

And full ranunculas, of glowing red.

Then comes the tulip race, where beauty plays

Her idle freaks; from family diffus'd

To family, as flies the father dust,

The varied colors run; and while they break

On the charm'd eye th' exulting florist marks,

With sweet pride, the wonders of his hand.

No gradual bloom is wanting; from the bud,

First-born of spring, to summer's musky tribes

Nor hyacinths, of purest virgin white,

Low bent, and blushing inward; nor jonquils

Of potent fragrance; nor narcissus fair,

As o'er the fabled fountain hanging still;

Nor broad carnations, nor gay spotted pink;

Nor, shower'd from every bush, the damask rose."

A tiny and unostentatious cottage buried among the trees. All around it,

first, flowers; secondly, flowers; thirdly, flowers. The garden, a network

of walks, and spruce hedges of rare beauty; occasionally you stumble

unexpectedly on a rustic bower, tenanted by an Apollo or Greek slave in

marble, or else you find yourself on turning an angle on the shady bank of

a sequestered pond, in which lively trout disport themselves as merrily as

those goldfish you just noticed in the aquarium in the hall hung round

with Krieghoff's exquisite "Canadian scenery." You can also, as you pass

along, catch the loud notes issuing from the house aviary and blending

with the soft, wild melody of the wood warblers and robin; but the

prominent feature of the place are flowers, sweet flowers, to charm the

eye and perfume the air. Do not wonder at that; this was the summer abode

of a gentleman whose name usually stood high on the Montreal and Quebec

exhibition prize list, and who was as successful in his commercial

ventures as he had been in the culture of carnations, zenias, gladiolus,

roses and dahlias. We remember seeing six hundred dahlias in bloom at

Rosewood at the same time, the _coup d'oeil_ and contrasts between

the varieties were striking in the extreme.

This rustic cottage was the summer residence of the late Jas. Gibb, Esq.,

of the old firm of Lane, Gibb & Co., a name remembered with gratitude, in

several educational and charitable institutions of Quebec for the

munificent bequests of its owner.

_RAVENSWOOD._

Near some fair town I'd have a private seat,

Built uniform, nor little, nor too great;

Better if on a rising ground it stood,--

On this side fields, on that a neighboring wood;

A little garden, grateful to the eye,

Where a cool rivulet runs murmuring by."

In the year 1848, Mr. Samuel Wright, of Quebec, purchased from John

Porter, Esq., that upper portion of Meadowbank (the old estate of

Lieutenant Governor Cramahé in 1762), which lies to the north of the Cap

Rouge or St. Lewis road, and built a dwelling thereon. In 1846 Mr.

Wright's property was put in the market, and Ravenswood acquired by the

present owner, William Herring, Esq., of the late firm of Charles E. Levey

& Co. No sylvan spot could have been procured, had all the woods around

Quebec been ransacked, of wilder beauty. In the centre, a pretty cottage;

to the east, trees; to the west, trees; to the north and south, trees--

stately trees all around you. Within a few rods from the hall door a

limpid little brook oozes from under an old plantation, and forms, under a

thorn tree of extraordinary size and most fantastically shaped limbs, a

reservoir of clear water, round which, from a rustic seat, you notice

speckled trout roaming fearlessly. Here was, for a man familiar with the

park-like scenery of England, a store of materials to work into shape.

That dense forest must be thinned; that indispensable adjunct of every

Sillery home a velvety lawn, must be had; a peep through the trees, on the

surrounding country, obtained; the stream dammed up so as to produce a

sheet of water, on which a birch canoe will be launched; more air let in

round the house; more of the forest cut away; and some fine beech, birch,

maple, and pine trees grouped. The lawn would look better with a graceful

and leafy elm in the centre, and a few smaller ones added to the

perspective. By dint of care, elms of a goodly size were removed from the

mountain brow. The efforts of the proprietor to plant large trees at

Ravenswood have been eminently successful, and ought to stimulate others

to add such valuable, such permanent elements of beauty, to their country

seats. One plantation, by its luxuriance, pleased us more than any other,

that which shades both sides of the avenue. Few of our places can boast of

possessing a more beautifully-wooded and gracefully-curved approach to the

house than Ravenswood. You see nothing of the dwelling until you emerge

from this neat plantation of evergreens. We once viewed it under its most

fascinating aspect; 'tis pretty in the bright, effulgent radiance of day,

but when the queen of night sends forth her soft rays, and allows them to

slumber silently on the rustling boughs of the green pines and firs, with

the dark, gravelled avenue, visible here and there at every curve, no

sounds heard except the distant murmur of the _Chaudière_ river, the

effect is striking.

_THE WOODS OF SILLERY._

I know each lane, and every valley green,

Dingle, or bushy dell, of this wild wood;

And every bosky bourn from side to side,

My daily walks and ancient neighborhood.

--Comus, _Shakespeare_.

"You, doubtless, imagine you have now seen Sillery under every aspect;

there never was a greater mistake, dear reader. Have you ever viewed

its woods in all their autumnal glory, when September arrays them in

tints of unsurpassed loveliness? We hear you say, no. Let us then, our

pensive philosopher, our romantic blushing rose bud of sweet sixteen,

our _blasé_-traveller, let us have a canter over Cap Rouge road

out by St. Louis gate, and returning by the St. Foy road, nine miles

and more, let us select a quiet afternoon, not far distant from the

Indian summer, when

The gentle wind a sweet and passionate wooer,

Kisses the blushing leaf, and stirs up life

Within the solemn woods of ash, deep crimsoned,

And Silver beech, and maple yellow-leaved,"

and then you can tell us whether the glowing description below is

overdrawn:

"There is something indescribably beautiful in the appearance of

Canadian woods at this season of the year, especially when the light

of the rising or setting sun falls upon them. Almost every imaginable

shade of green, brown, red and yellow, may be found in the foliage of

our forest trees, shrubs, and creeping vines, as the autumn advances

and it may truly be said that every backwood's home in Canada is

surrounded by more gorgeous colourings and richer beauties than the

finest mansions of the nobility of England.

"Have our readers ever remarked the peculiarly beautiful appearance of

the pines at this season of the year? When other trees manifest

symptoms of withering, they appear to put forth a richer and fresher

foliage. The interior of the tree, when shaded from the sun, is a deep

invisible-green, approaching to black, whilst the outer boughs,

basking in the sunlight, show the richest dark-green that can be

imagined. A few pine and spruce trees scattered among the more

brightly-colored oaks, maple, elms and beeches, which are the chief

denizens of our forests, give the whole an exceedingly rich

appearance. Among the latter, every here and there, strange sports of

nature attract attention. A tree that is still green will have a

single branch, covered with red and orange leaves, like a gigantic

bouquet of flowers. Another will have one side of a rich maroon,

whilst the other side remains green. A third will present a flounce or

ruffle of bright buff, or orange leaves round the middle, whilst the

branches above and below continue green. Then again some trees which

have turned to a rich brown, will be seen intertwined and festooned by

the wild vine or red root, still beautifully green; or a tree that is

still green will he mantled over by the Canadian ivy, whose leaves

have turned to a deep reddish-brown. In fact, every hue that painters

love, or almost could imagine, is found standing out boldly or hid

away in some recess, in one part or another of a forest scene at this

season, and all so delicately mingled and blended that human art must

despair of making even a tolerable imitation. And these are beauties

which not even the sun can portray; the photographer's art has not yet

enabled him to seize and fix them on the mirror which he holds up to

nature. He can give the limbs and outward flourishes, but not the soul

of such a scene. His representation bears the same relation to the

reality that a beautiful corpse does to the flashing eye and glowing

cheek of living beauty."--(From "_Maple Leaves_," 1865.)

_LONGWOOD._

THE COUNTRY SEAT OF THE HON. WM. SMITH

(1760-1847.)

Here there was laughing of old, there was weeping,

Haply of lovers none ever will know,

Whose eyes went seaward a hundred sleeping

Years ago.

The ghost of a garden fronts the sea,

A girdle of brushwood and thorn encloses

The -- square slope of the blossomless bed

Where the weeds that grew green from the graves of its roses

Now lie dead.

The fields fall southward, abrupt and broken,

To the low last edge of the long lone land,

If a step should sound or a word be spoken

Would a ghost not rise at the strange guest's hand?

SWINBURNE'S _Forsaken Garden_.

On a grey, cheerless May afternoon, I visited what I might call the ruins

of this once bright abode--Longwood--at Cap Rouge. Here the eccentric,

influential and scholarly historian of Canada and statesman, the Honorable

William Smith, spent the evening of his long and busy life. Whence the

name Longwood? Did the Hon. William bestow on his rustic home the name of

the residence where sojourned his illustrious contemporary--his admired

hero, Napoleon I. (born like himself in 1769), to commemorate his own

release from the cares of State? Was Cap Rouge and its quiet and sylvan

bowers to him a haven of rest like St. Helena might have been to the

_Petit Caporal_?

The locality, at present, can only attract from its woodland views. The

house, of one story, is about eighty feet in length by forty in breadth,

of wood, with an oval window over the entrance to light up that portion of

the large attic. Its roomy lower apartments and attics must have fitted it

admirably for a summer retreat. It is painted a dull yellow; the blinds

may have been once green. When I saw it, I found it as bleak, as forlorn,

as the snows and storms of many winters can well make a tenantless

dwelling.

Outside, the "ghost of a garden" had stared at me, and when the key turned

and grated in the rusty old lock of this dreary tenement, with its

disjointed floors, disintegrated foundations, darkened apartments with

shutters all closed, I almost thought I might encounter within the ghost

of the departed historian;

All within is dark as night:

In the windows is no light;

And no murmur at the door,

So frequent on its hinge before,

still the time had been when the voice of revelry, the patter of light

feet, the meeting of many friends, had awakened gladsome echoes in these

now silent halls of Longwood. Traditions told of noted dinner parties, of

festive evenings, when Quebec could boast of a well appointed garrison,

and stately frigates crowded its port.

How many balls at the Barons' Club? how many annual dinners of the

Veterans of 1775, at Menut's? how many _levees_ at the old Château,

had the Laird not attended from the first, the historical levee of Dec. 6,

1786, "where the Governor-General, Lord Dorchester, monopolised the

kissing," so graphically depicted by William's dignified papa, [249] the

Chief Justice, down to the jocund _fêtes champêtres_ of Sir James Craig at

Powell Place immortalized by old Mr. DeGaspé--to the gay _soirees_ of the

Duke of Richmond--the literary _reunions_ of the scholarly Earl of

Dalhousie--the routs and lawn parties at Spencer Wood.

The Honorable William Smith, a son of the learned chief Justice of New

York in 1780--of all Canada in 1785, was indeed a prominent figure in

Quebec circles for more than half a century; his high, confidential and

official duties, his eminent position as member of the Executive Council,

to which his powerful protector Earl Bathurst had named him in 1814--his

refined and literary tastes, his tireless researches in Canadian annals,

at a time when the founts of our history as yet unrevealed by the art of

the printer, lay dormant under heaps of decaying--though priceless--M.SS.

in the damp vaults of the old Parliament Buildings; these and several

other circumstances surround the memory, haunts and times of the Laird of

Longwood with peculiar significance.

But for the Honorable William one bleak autumn came, when the trees he had

planted ceased to lend him their welcome shade--the roses he had reared,

to send perfume to his tottering frame--the garden he had so exquisitely

planned, to gladden his aged eyes. He then bid adieu forever to the

cherished old spot and retired to his town house, now the residence of

Hon. Chas. Alleyn, Sheriff of Quebec, [250] where those he loved received

his last farewell on the 7th December, 1847, bequeathing Longwood to his

son Charles Webber Smith, who lived some years there as a bachelor, then

decked out his rustic home for an English bride and retired to England

where he died in 1879. Desolation and silence has reigned in the halls of

Longwood for many a long day, and in the not inappropriate words of

Swinburne,

Not a flower to be prest of the foot that falls not.

As the heart of a dead man the seed plots are dry;

From the thickets of thorns whence the nightingale calls not,

Could she call, there were never a rose to reply.

Chief Justice Smith [251] concerning house-keeping, house-furnishing

château ceremonies, etc, at Quebec in 1786, wrote thus in a letter to his

wife:

QUEBEC, 10th Dec., 1786.

_Mrs. Janet Smith, New York._

My dear Janet,

"Not a line from you yet! so that our approach to within 600 miles is

less favourable to me hitherto, than when the ocean divided us by

three thousand. It is the more vexatious, as we are daily visited by

your Eastern neighbors, who, caring nothing for you, know nothing of

you, and cannot tell me whether McJoen's or the Sopy Packet is

arrived. If the latter is not over, there will be cause for ill boding

respecting Mr. Lanaudière, who, I imagine, left the channel with the

wind that brought us out.

If the packet is on the way for Falmouth, get my letters into it for

Mr. Raphbrigh, it contains a bill for £300 sterling to enable him to

pay for what you order. You have no time to spare. A January mail

often meets with easterly winds off the English coast, that blows for

months, and we shall be mortified if you arrive before the necessary

supplies, which, to be in time, must come in the ships that leave

England in March or on the beginning of April.

I have found no house yet to my fancy. None large enough to be hired.

We shall want a drawing-room, a dining or eating-room, my library, our

bedroom, one for the girls, another for Hale and William, and another

for your house-keeper and hair-dresser. Moore and another man servant

will occupy the eight. And I doubt if there is such a house to be

hired in Quebec. To say nothing of quarters for the lower servants

who, I think must be negroes from New York as cheapest and least

likely to find difficulties. My Thomas's wages are 24 guineas and with

your three from England will put us to £100 sterling per annum.

If you bring blacks from New York with you, let them be such as you

can depend upon. Our table will always want four attendants of decent

appearance. The hurry of the public arrangements prevents me from

writing, as I intended, to my friends on the other side of the water,

nor even to Janet _upon the great wish of my heart_, tell her so,

but she will know what can be done in time, for she cannot leave

England till April or May, at any time before August to be here in

good season. I have written to Vermont upon the subject of Moore Town

and hear nothing to displease me, as yet, if no mischief has been done

to our interests in that country, there will be peace, I believe; but

of this more when I have their Governor's answer to my letters. They

already ask favours and must first do justice.

Our winter is commenced and yet I was never less sensible of the

frost. The stoves of Canada, in the passages, temper the air through

all the house. I sit ordinarly by a common hearth which gives me the

thermometer at 71 or 72, nearly summer heat. The close cariole and fur

cap and cloak is a luxury only used on journeys. The cariole alone

suffices in town. The Rout of last Thursday demonstrates this: 50

ladies in bright head dresses and not a lappet or frill discomposed.

All English in the manner, except the ceremony of kissing which my

Lord D. (Dorchester) engrossed all to himself. His aide-de-camp handed

them through a room where he and I were posted to receive them. They

had given two cheek kisses and were led away to the back rooms of the

château, to which we repaired when the rush was over. The gentlemen

came in at another door. Tea, cards, etc., that till 10 o'clock and

the ceremony ended. I stole away at 9 and left your son to attend the

beauty of the evening, a Mrs. Williams, wife to a major Williams and a

daughter to Sir John Gibbons of Windford, a lady of genteel manners as

well as birth. He did not find his lodging till near midnight. We had

a dance that day at the Lt. Governor's. You must know General Hope. He

was often at General Robertson's under the name of Col. Harry Hope,

nephew to Lord Hopetown in Scotland, to Lord Darlington (by his

mother's second marriage) in England. His table is in very genteel

fashion. It reminds me that Mrs. Mallet must not forget all those

little ornaments of plate, glass, etc., that belong to a dining-room.

No water plates, the rooms don't require them, the plates being

sufficiently heated by the stoves. But water dishes are necessary for

soup and fish _fricassees_ all in the shape of the proper dishes

for such articles. Don't forget, among others, the silver gravy cups

with double cavities, the larger for hot water. They are small hand

ones, not unlike a tea pot. Mrs. Mallet will find these at all the

great shops and particularly at Jones, in Cockspur street, near

Charing Cross, where I bought my Mary's watch chain. William that

understands Latin and French letters better than his native tongue,

importunes my ordering a set of classical books, which he is welcome

to, if you can purchase at N. Y. a small bill for about £15 sterling

and enclose it in my letter to Mr. Ryland. If that is inconvenient to

you stop my letter, and I will find other means to gratify his

inclination. There is a very good library [252] here, and many private

ones at my friends. How wretched your general affairs? if our Yankey

informers speak the truth, multitudes are disposed to turn their heads

from that draught, which I thought they would not long relish. Lord D.

with the generosity and charity he always indulged, bids them welcome,

disposed as he says to favour even the independant Whigs of America,

above any other nation under heaven, for tho' no longer brethren, they

are at least our cousins, branches from the same stock.

I have infinite consolation, in having dissuaded the parties from the

steps, that led to all the calamities they have felt and still dread

and more cheerfully will grasp at the means to lessen these

afflictions, as the surest path to the greatest glory. I am solicited

from Cambridge for a gift for pious uses, and find that you have been

applied to, and probably will again. My promise shall most certainly

be fulfilled. It was to give a lot for a church. But as I told them it

was to be a gift to _Christianity_ and not to Sectarianism.

Religion and party are two different things. Tell them so that my gift

will be to all Protestants, that is to say to the majority of the town

being protestants, be the denomination what it may, and that I may not

be imposed upon, I shall put my seal to no deed, before they bring me

Dr. Rodger's certificate upon the subject. My best respects to him

with compliments to Mrs. T., Mr. Ainslie, Mr. and Mrs. Foxcraft and

all your friends.

The snapping of my wood fires makes me think of yours. Don't forget

them yourself. _Your three hundred acres of shingles_, chills the

blood in my veins.... Adieu. The broad hand of Heaven protect you!

I am, my dearest,

Most faithfully yours,

W. S.

_MEADOWBANK._

"THE COUNTRY SEAT OF LIEUT.-COL. ANDREW CHARLES STUART.

Happy, is he who in a country life

Shuns more perplexing toil and jarring strife,

Who lives upon the natal soil he loves

And sits beneath his old ancestral groves."

--_Downing_.

Facing Ravenswood, on the road to Cape Rouge, on the breezy banks of the

noble river, there lies a magnificent expanse of verdure, with here and

there a luxuriant copse of evergreens and sugar maple. It crowns a

graceful slope of undulating meadows and cornfields. The dwelling, a

plain, straggling white cottage, lies _perdu_ among the green firs

and solemn pines. Over the verdant groves, glimpses of the white cottages

of Levi and New Liverpool occasionally catch the eye. This rustic

landscape, pleasant at all times, becomes strikingly picturesque, at the

"fall of the leaf"--when the rainbow-tinted foliage is, lit up by a

mellow, autumnal sun. Under this favored aspect it was our happiness to

view it in September, 1880.

"Bright yellow, red and orange

The leaves came down in hosts;

The trees are Indian princes—

But soon they'll turn to ghosts."

In 1762, this broad, wild domain was owned by Lt.-Gov. Hector Theophilus

Cramahé of Quebec, and according to an entry in the Diary of Judge Henry,

he apparently was still the proprietor in 1775, at the time of the

blockade of Quebec. In 1785, the land passed by purchase to one of

Fraser's Highlanders, Capt. Cameron. It was from 1841 to 1875, the

cherished abode of a cultured English gentleman, the late John Porter, the

able secretary and treasurer of the Quebec Turnpike Trust. It did one good

to see the courteous old bachelor, cosily seated in his ample, well

selected library, surrounded by a few congenial friends, the toils of the

day over--the dust of St. Peter Street shaken off. Mr. Porter was a fair

type of the well-informed English country gentleman, well read in Debrett,

with a pedigree reaching as far back as William the Norman. At his demise,

he bequeathed this splendid farm to the son of a valued old friend. Andrew

Chs. Stuart, Esq., of the law firm of Ross, Stuart & Stuart, Quebec, now

Lt.-Col. Andrew Charles Stuart, of the 8th Batt. "Royal Rifles," Quebec.

Col. Stuart, the possessor of ample means, having a taste for agricultural

pursuits, has lately become an active member of the Quebec Turf Club, as

well as a successful breeder of prize cattle. His stud is renowned all

over Canada. Col. Stuart lately took up his residence at Meadowbank, since

which time a transformation seems to have come over the land; sprightly

parterres of flowers, dainty pavilions, trim hedges, rustic seats, hanging

baskets of ferns, are conspicuous, where formerly hay alone flourished. A

neighboring rill has been skilfully enlisted to do duty, dammed up,

bridged over, gently coaxed to meander, whimple and bubble, like

Tennyson's brook, here and there rippling over and rushing into cool trout

ponds, under the shade of moss and trees, until it leaps down to the St.

Lawrence.

A small race-course has been laid out, south of the house, in a declivity

towards the St. Lawrence to exercise the thoroughbreds and keep healthy

the pet charger for parade days, as well as ladies' palfreys, which are

not forgotten at Meadowbank.

In an enclosure protected by stone pillars and chains, under the shade of

a handsome tree, may be read on a board, the following name, recently

inscribed,

"ASTREA"

This marks the spot where a favourite saddle-horse, who died prematurely,

now rests. All now wanting to perfect this scene of rustic beauty is a

cottage _orné_ or a _Chalet Suisse_.

A RAID ON MEADOWBANK IN 1775, AND HOW KING GEORGE'S FRIENDS, THE

"QUEBEC TORIES" WERE THEN PLUNDERED.

The following extract from Judge Henry's Diary seems to refer to the

country seat, now known as Meadowbank:

Arnold's little army had retreated to Pointe aux Trembles on the 15th

Nov. On the 2nd December, 1775, they retraced their steps to Quebec

and in the evening arrived at St. Foy. On the 12th of December, Henry

[253] says "The officers and men still wore nothing else than the

remains of the summer clothing, which being on their back, had escaped

destruction in the disaster of the wilderness." At this time the snow

lay three feet deep over the whole country. One fine morning a fellow

addressed Simpson who was the only officer in quarters and said "that

about two miles up the St. Lawrence lay a country seat of Governor

Cromie's (Cramahé?) stocked with many things they wanted and he would

be our guide. Carioles were immediately procured. The house, a neat

box, was romantically situated on the steep bank of the river, not

very distant from a chapel. [254] Though in the midst of winter the

spot displayed the elegant taste and abundant wealth of the owner. The

house was closed; knocking, the hall door was opened to us by an

Irishwoman who, of the fair sex, was the largest and most brawny that

ever came under my notice. She was the stewardess of the house. Our

questions were answered with an apparent affability and frankness. She

introduced us into the kitchen, a large apartment, well filled with

these articles which good livers think necessary to the happy

enjoyment of life. Here we observed five or six Canadian servants

huddled into a corner of the kitchen trembling with fear. Our prying

eyes soon discovered a trap door leading into the cellar. The men

entered it; firken after firken of butter,--lard, tallow, beef, pork,

fish and salt, all became a prey. While the men were rummaging below

the lieutenant descended to cause more despatch. My duty was to remain

at the end of the trap door with my back to the wall, and rifle cocked

as a sentry, keeping a strict eye on the servants. My good Irishwoman

frequently beckoned to me to descend; her drift was to catch us all in

the trap. Luckily she was comprehended. The cellar and kitchen being

thoroughly gutted, and the spoil borne to the carriages, the party

dispersed into the other apartments. Here was elegancy. The walls and

partitions were beautifully papered, and decorated with large

engravings, maps, &c., and of the most celebrated artists. A noble

view of the City of Philadelphia upon a large scale taken from the

neighborhood of Cooper's Ferry drew my attention and raised some

compunctive ideas; but war and the sciences always stand at arms

length in the contests of mankind. The latter must succumb in the

tumult. Our attention was much more attracted by the costly feather

beds, counterpanes, and charming rose blankets, which the house

afforded. Of these there was a good store and we left not a jot behind

us. The nooks and crevices in the carioles were filled with smaller

articles; several dozen of admirably finished case knives and forks;

even a set of dessert knives obtained the notice of our cupidity.

Articles of a lesser moment nor a thousandth part so useful, did not

escape the all-grasping hands of the soldiery. In a back apartment

there stood a mahogany couch or settee in a highly finished style. The

woodwork of the couch was raised on all sides by cushioning, and

costly covered by a rich figured silk. This to us was lumber, besides

our carioles were full. However, we grabbed the mattrass and pallets

all equally elegant as the couch. Having, as we thought, divested his

Excellency of all the articles of prime necessity, we departed,

ostensibly and even audibly accompanied by the pious blessings of the

stewardess for our moderation. No doubt she had her mental

reservations; on such business as this we regarded neither. Near the

chapel we met a party of Morgan's men coming to do that which we had

already done. The officer appeared chagrined when he saw the extent of

our plunder. He went on, and finally ransacked the house, and yet a

little more the stables. The joy of our men, among whom the plunder

was distributed in nearly equal portions was extravagant. Now an

operation of the human mind, which often takes place in society, and

is every day discernable by persons of observation, became clearly

obvious. Let a man once with impunity desert the strict rule of rules,

all subsequent aggression is not only increased in atrocity, but is

done without a qualm of conscience. Though our company was composed

principally of freeholders, or the sons of such, bred at home under

the strictures of religion and morality, yet when the reins of decorum

were loosed and the honorable feeling weakened, it became impossible

to administer restraint. The person of a Tory or his property became

fair game, and this at the denunciation of some base domestic villain.

On the morning following December 13, the same audacious scoundrel

again returned, and another marauding expedition started under his

guidance to a farm "said to belong to Gov. Cromie (Cramahé?) or some

other inhabitant of Quebec. It was further than the former scene." The

farm-house, though low, being but one story, was capacious and

tolerably neat. The barn built of logs, with a thrashing floor in the

centre, was from 70 to 80 feet in length. The tenant, his wife and

children shuddered upon our approach. Assurances that they should be

unharmed relieved their fears. The tenant pointed out to us the horned

cattle, pigs and poultry of his landlord. These were shot down without

mercy or drove before us to our quarters. Thus we obtained a tolerable

load for our caravan, which consisted of five or six carioles. "With

this disreputable exploit marauding ceased. A returning sense of

decency and order emanating from ourselves produced a sense of

contrition. It is a solemn truth that we plundered none but those who

were notoriously Tories and then within the walls of Quebec."

_THE HIGHLANDS._

The range of heights extends from Spencer Wood, west, to the black bridge

over the stream at Kilmarnock, gradually recedes from the road, leaving at

its foot a spacious area interspersed with green pastures, lawns, ploughed

fields and plantations. On the most elevated plateau of this range stands

"The Highlands," a large substantial fire-brick dwelling, with an ample

verandah, erected a few years back by Michael Stevenson, Esquire,

merchant, of Quebec. The site is recommended by a fine view of the river

St. Lawrence, an airy and healthy position, and the luxuriant foliage of

the spruce, pine and maple in the background. The internal arrangements of

the dwelling, whether regard be had to ventilation in summer or heating in

winter, are on the most modern and improved plan. "The Highlands" lie

above St. Michael's Cove teeming with historical recollections, a little

to the west thereof, in front of St. Lewis road of historic renown, over

which pranced, in 1663, the Marquis of Tracy's gaudy equipage and splendid

body-guard wearing, as history tells, the uniform of the _Gardes de la

Reine_. In Sept., 1759, [255] the Rochbeaucourt Cavalry, with their

"blue uniforms and neat light horses of different colours," scoured the

heights in all directions, watching the motions of the English fleet,

which may be seen in the plate of the siege operations, lying at anchor at

Sillery, ready, the huge black leviathans, to hurl destruction on the

devoted city. In 1838, we remember well noticing Lord Durham's showy

equipage with outriders, thundering daily over this same road: the Earl

being a particular admirer of the Cap Rouge scenery. This seat has passed

over, by purchase, to Chas. Temple, Esq., son of our late respected

fellow-townsman, Major Temple, who for a series of years served in that

15th regiment, to whose prowess the Plains of Abraham bore witness during

the war of the conquest. "The Highlands" are now occupied by J. W.

Stockwell, Esquire.

_WINTER FOX HUNTING IN CANADA._

From time immemorial, Merry England has been renowned for her field

sports; prominent amongst which may be reckoned her exciting pastime

of Fox-hunting, the pride, the glory, _par excellence_ of the

roystering English squire. Many may not be aware that we also, in our

far-off Canada, have a method of Fox-hunting peculiarly our own--in

harmony with the nature of the country--adapted to the rigors of our

arctic winter season--the successful prosecution of which calls forth

more endurance, a keener sight, a more thorough knowledge of the

habits of the animal, a deeper self-control and greater sagacity, than

does the English sport; for, as the proverb truly says, "_Pour

attraper la bête, faut être plus fin qu'elle._" [256]

A short sketch [257] of a Canadian Fox-hunt may not, therefore, prove

uninteresting. At the outset, let the reader bear in mind that Sir

Reynard _Canadensis_ is rather a rakish, dissipated gentleman,

constantly turning night into day, in the habit of perambulating

through the forests, the fields, and homesteads, at most improper

hours, to ascertain whether, perchance, some old dame Partlett, some

hoary gobbler, some thoughtless mother-goose, allured to wander over

the farm-yard by the jocund rays of a returning March sun, may not

have been outside of the barn, when the negligent stable-boy closed up

for the night; or else, whether some gay Lothario of a hare in yonder

thicket may not, by the silent and discreet rays of the moon, be

whispering some soft nonsense in the willing ear of some guileless

doe, escaped from a parent's vigilant eye. For on such has the

midnight marauder set his heart: after such does noiselessly prowl,

favoured by darkness--the dissipated rascal--_querens quem devoret_--

determined to make up, on the morrow, by a long meridian _siesta_ on

the highest pinacle of a snow-drift, for the loss of his night's-rest.

Should fortune refuse the sly prowler the coveted hen, turkey, goose,

or hare, warmly clad in his fur coat and leggings, with tail

horizontal, he sallies forth over the snow-wreathed fields, on the

skirts of woods, in search of ground mice, his ordinary provender.

But, you will say, how can he discover them under the snow? By that

wonderful instinct with which nature has endowed the brute creation to

provide for their sustenance, each according to its nature, to its

wants. By his marvellously acute ear, the fox detects the ground mouse

under the snow, though he should utter a noise scarcely audible to a

human ear. Mr. Fox sets instantly to work, digs down the earth, and in

a trice gobbles up _mus_, his wife, and young family. Should nothing

occur to disturb his arrangements, he devotes each day in winter, from

ten or half-past ten in the forenoon, to repose; selecting the

loftiest snow-bank he can find, or else a large rock, or perchance any

other eminence from which--

"Monarch of all _he surveys_"--

he can command a good view of the neighborhod, and readily scent

approaching danger. Nor does he drop off immediately in a sound sleep,

like a turtle-fed alderman; but rather, like a suspicious, blood-

thirsty land pirate, as he is, he first snatches hastily "forty

winks," then starts up nervously, for several times, scanning all

around with his cruel, cunning eye--snuffing the air. Should he be

satisfied that no cause of alarm exists, he scrapes himself a bed, if

in the snow and, warmly wrapped in his soft fur cloak, he coils

himself up, cat-fashion, in the sun, with his brushy tail brought over

his head, but careful to keep his nose to the direction from which the

wind blows, so as to catch the first notice of and scent the lurking

enemy. On a stormy, blustery day, the fox will, however, usually seek

the shelter of some bushes or trees, and on such occasion is usually

found under the _lee_ of some little wooded point, where, steeped

in sweetest sleep, he can at leisure dream of clucking hens, fat

turkeys, and tender leverets--sheltered from the storm, and still

having an uninterrupted view before him. The hunter, when bent on a

fox hunt, is careful to wear garments whose colour blends with the

prevailing hue of frosted nature: a white cotton _capot_, and

_capuchon_ to match, is slipped over his great coat; pants also

white--everything to harmonize with the snow; a pair of snow-shoes and

a short gun complete his equipment. Once arrived at the post where he

expects to meet reynard, he looks carefully about for signs of tracks,

and having discovered fresh ones, he follows them, keeping a very

sharp look-out. Should he perceive a fox, and that animal be not

asleep, it is then that he has need of all his wits and of all the

knowledge of the animal's habits he may possess. As previously stated,

the fox depends principally on his scent, to discover danger; but his

eye is also good, and to succeed in approaching within gun shot of him

in the open country, the gunner must watch every motion most

carefully, moving only when the animal's gaze is averted, and stopping

instantly the moment he looks towards him, no matter what position the

sportman's may be at that time. No matter how uncomfortable he may

feel; move he dare not, foot nor limb; the eye of the fox is on him,

and the least movement would betray him and alarm his watchful quarry.

It will be easily conceived that to succesfully carry out this

programme, it requires nerves of steel and a patience _à toute

épreuve_. It has been the good luck of one of our friends once to

approach thus a fox, within twenty feet, without his detecting him;

needless to say, it was done moving against the wind. Some few hunters

can so exactly imitate the cry of the ground mouse, as to bring the

fox to them, especially if he is very hungry; but it is not always

that this plan succeeds. The animal's ear is keen; the slightest

defect in the imitation betrays the trap, and away canters alarmed

reynard at railroad speed. Some sportsmen prefer to watch the fox, and

wait until he falls asleep which they know he will surely do, if not

disturbed, and then they can approach him easily enough against the

wind. It is not unusual for them to get within fifteen feet of the

animal, before the noise of their footsteps causes him to wake.--As

may readily be supposed in such cases, his awakening and death are

generally simultaneous.

It is a fact worthy of note, that the fox, if undisturbed, will every

day return to the same place to sleep, and about the same hour. These

animals are not as abundant as they were a few years back.

The extent of country travelled by a fox by moonlight, each night, is

very great. Not many years ago, a Quebec hunter [258] who is in the

habit of enjoying his daily walk at peep of day, informed the writer

that on many occasions he has seen the sly wanderer, on being

disturbed from the neighborhood of the tanneries in St. Vallier

street, hieing away at a gallop towards the Lorette and Charlesbourg

mountains, a distance of nine miles each way.

_CAPE ROUGE COTTAGE._

With its rear facing St. Augustin parish, eight miles from the city a

commodious dwelling graces the summit of the lofty cape or promontory,

which terminates westward the elevated _plateau_, on the eastern extremity

of which, Champlain, in 1608, raised the lily-spangled banner of the

Bourbons. Unquestionably the environs of Quebec are rich in scenery,

revelling one half of the year in rural loveliness, the other half

enjoying that solid comfort, which successful enterprise, taste and free

institutions communicate to whatever they touch; but no where, not even at

Spencer Wood, or Woodfield, has nature lavished such beautiful landscapes,

such enchanting views. Three centuries ago, Europeans had pitched here

their tents, until the return of spring, attracted by the charms of the

spot; three hundred years after that, a man of taste--to whom we may now

without fear, give his due, as he is where neither praise nor censure can

be suspected,--an English merchant had selected this site for its rare

attractiveness; here he resided for many summers. In 1833 he removed to

Spencer Wood. We allude to the late Henry Atkinson, who was succeeded at

the Cap Rouge Cottage by William Atkinson, Esq., merchant of London,

England. Mr. William Atkinson lived in affluence and happiness at Cap

Rouge, several years. There are yet at Quebec those who remember the kind-

heartedness and hospitality of this English gentleman of the old school.

Geo. Usborne, Esq., was the next occupant of the cottage. The estate

consisted formerly of close on one hundred acres of land, extending north

across the king's highway, with a river frontage of about twenty acres,

the lot on the south side of the road is laid out, one half in a park, the

remainder in two or three fruit and flower gardens, divided by brick walls

to trail vines and ripen fruit. It lies quite sheltered with a southerly

exposure, bounded by the lofty, perpendicular river banks; the base, some

two hundred feet below, skirted by a narrow road, washed by the waves of

the St. Lawrence. A magnificent avenue extends along the high bank under

ancient, ever-verdant pines, whose far outspreading branches, under the

influence of winds, sigh a plaintive but soothing music, blending their

soft rustle to the roar of the Etchemin or the Chaudière rivers before

easterly gales; how well Pickering has it:--

"The overshadowing pines alone, through which I roam,

Their verdure keep, although it darker looks;

And hark! as it comes sighing through the grove,

The exhausted gale, a spirit there awakes

That wild and melancholy music makes."

From the house verandah, the eye plunges westward down the high cape,

following the capricious windings of the Cap Rouge stream far to the

north, or else scans the green uplands of St. Augustin, its white cottages

rising in soft undulations as far as the sight can reach. Over the extreme

point of the southwestern cape hangs a fairy pavilion, like an eagle's

eyrie amongst alpine crags, just a degree more secure than that pensile

old fir tree which you notice at your feet stretching over the chasm;

beneath you the majestic flood, Canada's pride, with a hundred merchantmen

sleeping on its placid waters, and the orb of day dancing blithely over

every ripple. Oh! for a few hours to roam with those we love under these

old pines, to listen to the voices of other years, and cull a fragrant

wreath of those wild flowers which everywhere strew our path.

Is there not enough of nature's charm around this sunny, truly Canadian

home? And how much of the precious metal would many an English duke give

to possess, in his own famed isle, a site of such exquisite beauty? We

confess, we denizens of Quebec, we do feel proud of our Quebec scenery;

not that on comparison we think the less of other localities, but that on

looking round we get to think more of our own.

Cap Rouge, from it having been the location of Europeans, early in the

sixteenth century, must claim the attention of every man of cultivated

mind who takes a pleasure in scrutinizing the past, and in tracing the

advent on our shores of the various races of European descent, now

identified with this land of the West, yearning for the bright destinies

the future has in store.

At the foot of the Cape, on which the Cape Rouge Cottage now stands,

Jacques Cartier and Roberval wintered, the first in 1541-2; the second in

1543-4. Recent discoveries have merely added to the interest which these

historical incidents awaken. The new _Historical Picture of Quebec_,

published in 1834, thus alludes to these circumstances:--

"We now come to another highly interesting portion of local history. It

has been stated that the old historians were apparently ignorant of this

last voyage of Cartier. Some place the establishment of the fort at Cape

Breton, and confound his proceedings with those of Roberval. The exact

spot where Cartier passed his second winter in Canada is not mentioned in

any publication that we have seen. The following is the description given

of the station in Hakluyt: 'After which things the said captain went, with

two of his boats, up the river, beyond Canada'--the promontory of Quebec

is meant--'and the port of St. Croix, to view a haven and a small river

which is about four leagues higher, which he found better and more

commodious to ride in, and lay his ships, than the former. * * * The said

river is small, not passing fifty paces broad, and ships drawing three

fathoms water may enter in at full sea; and at low water there is nothing

but a channel of a foot deep or thereabouts. * * * The mouth of the river

is towards the south, and it windeth northward like a snake; and at the

mouth of it, towards the east, there is a high and steep cliff, where we

made a way in manner of a pair of stairs, and aloft we made a fort to keep

the nether fort and the ships, and all things that might pass as well by

the great as by the small river." Who that reads the above accurate

description will doubt that the mouth of the little river Cap Rouge was

the station chosen by Jacques Cartier for his second wintering place in

Canada? The original description of the grounds and scenery on both sides

of the river Cap Rouge is equally faithful with that which we have

extracted above. The precise spot on which the upper fort of Jacques

Cartier was built, afterwards enlarged by Roberval, has been fixed by an

ingenious gentleman of Quebec, at the top of Cap Rouge height, a short

distance from the handsome villa and establishment of H. Atkinson (now of

James Bowen) There is, at the distance of about an acre to the north of

Mr. Atkinson's house, a hillock of artificial construction, upon which are

trees indicating great antiquity, and as it does not appear that any

fortifications were erected on this spot, either in the war of 1759, or

during the attack of Quebec by the Americans in 1775, it is extremely

probable that here are to be found the interesting site and remains of the

ancient fort in question.

"On his return to the fort of Charlesbourg Royal, the suspicions of

Cartier as to the unfriendly disposition of the Indians were confirmed. He

was informed that the natives now kept aloof from the fort, and had ceased

to bring them fish and provisions as before. He also learned from some of

the men who had been at Stadacona, that an unusual number of Indians had

assembled there--and associating, as he always seems to have done, the

idea of danger with any concourse of the natives, he resolved to take all

necessary precautions, causing everything in the fortress to be set in

order.

"At this crisis, to the regret of all who feel an interest in the local

history of the time the relation of Cartier's third voyage abruptly breaks

off. Of the proceedings during the winter which he spent at Cap Rouge,

nothing is known. It is probable that it passed over without any collision

with the natives, although the position of the French, from their

numerical weakness, must have been attended with great anxiety.

"It has been seen that Roberval, notwithstanding his lofty titles, and

really enterprising character, did not fulfil his engagement to follow

Cartier with supplies sufficient for the settlement of a colony, until the

year following. By that time the Lieutenant General had furnished three

large vessels chiefly at the King's cost, having on board two hundred

persons, several gentlemen of quality, and settlers, both men and women.

He sailed from La Rochelle on the 16th of April, 1542, under the direction

of an experienced pilot, by name John Alphonse, of Xaintonge. The

prevalence of westerly winds prevented their reaching Newfoundland until

7th June. On the 8th they entered the road of St. John, where they found

seventeen vessels engaged in the fisheries. During his stay in this road,

he was surprised and disappointed by the appearance of Jacques Cartier, on

his return from Canada, whither he had been sent the year before with five

ships. Cartier had passed the winter in the fortress described above, and

gave as a reason for the abandonment of the settlement, 'that he could not

with his small company withstand the savages which went about daily to

annoy him.' He continued, nevertheless, to speak of the country as very

rich and fruitful. Cartier is said, in the relation, of Roberval's voyage

in Hakluyt, to have produced some gold ore found in the country, which on

being tried in a furnace, proved to be good. He had with him also some

_diamonds_, the natural production of the promontory of Quebec, from

which the Cape derived its name. The Lieutenant General having brought so

strong a reinforcement of men and necessaries for the settlement, was

extremely urgent with Cartier to go back again to Cap Rouge, but without

success. It is most probable that the French, who had recently passed a

winter of hardship in Canada, would not permit their Captain to attach

himself to the fortunes and particular views of Roberval. Perhaps, the

fond regret of home prevailed over the love of adventure, and like men who

conceived that they had performed their part of the contract into which

they had entered, they were not disposed to encounter new hardships under

a new leader. In order, therefore, to prevent any open disagreement,

Cartier weighed anchor in the course of the night without taking leave of

Roberval, and made all sail for France. It is impossible not to regret

this somewhat inglorious termination of a distinguished career. Had he

returned to his fort, with the additional strength of Roberval, guided by

his own skill and experience, it is most probable that the colony would

have been destined to a permanent existence. Cartier undertook no other

voyage to Canada; but he afterwards completed a sea chart, drawn by his

own hand, which was extant in the possession of one of his nephews,

Jacques Noël, of St. Malo, in 1587, who seems to have taken great interest

in the further development of the vast country discovered by his deceased

uncle. Two letters of his have been preserved, relating to the maps and

writings of Cartier: the first written in 1587, and the others a year or

two latter, in which he mentions that his two sons, Michael and John Noël,

were then in Canada, and that he was in expectation of their return.

Cartier himself died soon after his return to France, having sacrificed

his fortune in the case of discovery. As an indemnification for the losses

their uncle had sustained, this Jacques Noel and another nephew, De la

Launay Chaton, received in 1588, an exclusive privilege to trade to Canada

during, twelve years, but this was revoked four months after it was

granted.

"Roberval, notwithstanding his mortification at the loss of Cartier's

experience and aid in his undertaking, determined to proceed, and sailing

from Newfoundland, about the end of June, 1543, he arrived at Cap Rouge,

'four leagues westward of the Isle of Orleans,' towards the end of July.

Here the French immediately fortified themselves, 'in a place fit to

command the main river, and of strong situation against all manner of

enemies.' The position was, no doubt, that chosen by Jacques Cartier the

year previous. The following is the description given in Hakluyt of the

buildings erected by Roberval: 'The said General on his first arrival

built a fair fort, near and somewhat westward above Canada, which is very

beautiful to behold, and of great force, situated upon a high mountain,

wherein there were two courts of buildings, a great tower, and another of

forty or fifty feet long, wherein there were divers chambers, a hall, a

kitchen, cellars high and low, and near unto it were an oven and mills,

and a stove to warm men in, and a well before the house. And the building

was situated upon the great River of Canada called _France-Prime_ by

Monsieur Roberval. There was also at the foot of the mountain another

lodging, where at the first all our victuals, and whatsoever was brought

with us, were sent to be kept, and near unto that tower there is another

small river. In these two places above and beneath, all the meaner sort

was lodged.' This fort was called _France-Roy_, but of these extensive

buildings, erected most probably in a hasty and inartificial manner, no

traces now remain, unless we consider as such the mound above mentioned,

near the residence of Mr. Atkinson, at Cap Rouge.

"On the 14th September, Roberval sent back to France two of his vessels,

with two gentlemen, bearers of letters to the King; who had instructions

to return the following year with supplies for the settlement. The natives

do not appear, by the relation given, to have evinced any hostility to the

new settlers. Unfortunately, the scurvy again made its appearance among

the French and carried off no less than sixty during the winter. The

morality of this little colony was not very rigid--perhaps they were

pressed by hunger, and induced to plunder from each other--at all events

the severity of the Viceroy towards his handful of subjects appears not to

have been restricted to the male sex. The method adopted by the Governor

to secure a quiet life will raise a smile; 'Monsieur Roberval used very

good justice, and punished every man according to his offence. One whose

name was Michael Gaillon, was hanged for his theft. John of Nantes was

laid in irons, and kept prisoner for his offence; and others also were put

in irons, and divers whipped, as well men as women, by which means they

lived quiet.'

"We have no record extant of the other proceedings of Roberval during the

winter of 1543. The ice broke up in the month of April; and on the 5th

June, the Lieutenant General departed from the winter quarters on an

exploring expedition to the Province of Saguenay, as Cartier had done on a

former occasion. Thirty persons were left behind in the fort under the

command of an officer, with instructions to return to France, if he had

not returned by the 1st of July. There are no particulars of this

expedition, on which, however, Roberval employed a considerable time. For

we find that on the 14th June, four of the gentlemen belonging to the

expedition returned to the fort, having left Roberval on the way to

Saguenay; and on the 19th, some others came back, bringing with them some

six score weight of Indian corn; and directions for the rest to wait for

the return of the Viceroy, until the 22nd July. An incident happened in

this expedition, which seems to have escaped the notice of the author of

the treaties on the _canon de bronze_ (Amable Barthelot), which we

have noticed in a former chapter. It certainly gives an authentic account

of a ship wreck having been suffered in the St. Lawrence, to which,

perhaps, the finding of the cannon, and the tradition about Jacques

Cartier, may with some possibility be referred. The following is the

extract in question: 'Eight men and one bark drowned and lost, among whom

were Monsieur de Noire Fontaine, and one named La Vasseur of Constance.'

The error as to the name might easily arise, Jacques Cartier having been

there so short a time before, and his celebrity in the country being so

much greater than that of Roberval, or of any of his companions."

Cap Rouge Cottage is now owned by James Bowen, Esq.

_BEAUSÉJOUR._

Flooded in sunny silence sleep the kine,

In languid murmurs brooklets float and flow,

The quaint farm-gables in rich light shine

And round them jasmined honeysuckles twine,

And close beside them sun-flowers burn and blow.

About one mile beyond the St. Foye Church, there is a fertile farm of one,

hundred acres, lying chiefly on the north side of the road. The dwelling,

a roomy, one story cottage, stands about two acres from the highway, from

which a copse of trees interrupts the view.

There are at present in this spot, several embellishments--such as trout

ponds--which bid fair to render it worthy of the notice of men of taste.

It was merely necessary to assist nature in order to obtain here most

gratifying results. Between the road fence and the dwelling, a small brook

has worn its bed, at the bottom of a deep ravine, sweeping past the house

lawn westward, and then changing its course to due north-west the boundary

in that direction between that and the adjoining property. The banks of

the ravine are enclosed in a belt of every imaginable forest shrub,--wild

cherry, mountain ash, raspberry, blueberry, interspersed here and there

with superb specimens of oak, spruce, fir and pine. A second avenue has

been laid out amongst the trees between the road fence and the brook, to

connect with the lawn at the west of the house, by a neat little bridge,

resting on two square piers about twenty-five feet high: on either side of

the bridge a solid dam being constructed of the boulders and stones

removed from the lower portion of the property, intended to form two trout

ponds of a couple of acres in length each, a passage in the dam is left

for the water-fall, which is in full view of the bridge. On the edge of

the bank, overhanging the ravine, nature seems to have pointed out the

spot for a pavilion, from which the disciples of Isaac Walton can throw a

cast below. The green fringe of the mountain shrubs in bud, blossom or

fruit, encircling the farm, materially enhances the beauty of this sylvan

landscape,--the eye resting with particular pleasure on the vast expanse

of meadow of vivid green, clothed in most luxuriant grass, some 10,000

bundles of hay for the mower, in due time. About two acres from the house,

to the west, is placed a rustic seat, under two weather-beaten, though

still verdant oaks, which stretch their boughs across the river: closer

again to the cottage, the eye meets two pavilions. The new avenue, rustic

bridges, ponds and pavilions, are due to the good taste of the present

owner, Louis Bilodeau, Esq. This rural home was for several years occupied

in summer by Stephen Sewell, Esq., and does not belie its name--

Beauséjour.

_BELMONT._

Owners--Intendant Talon, 1670; General James Murray, 1765; Sir John

Caldwell, 1810; J. W. Dunscomb. Esquire, 1854-81.

That genial old joker, Sir Jonas Barrington, in his _Sketches_, has

invested the Irish homes and Irish gentry with features certainly very

original--at times so singular as to be difficult of acceptance. True, he

lived in an age and amongst a people proverbial for generous hospitality,

for conviviality carried to its extreme limit. Gargantuan banquets he

describes, pending which the bowls of punch and claret imbibed appear to

us something fabulous. Irish squires, roystering Irish barristers,

toddling home in pairs after having stowed away under their belts as many

as twelve bottles of claret a piece, during a prolonged sitting, _i.e._,

from 6 P.M. to 6 A.M. Such intrepid diners-out were known as "Twelve

bottle men;" and verily, if the old Judge is to be credited, they might

have been advantageously pitted even against such a Homeric guzzler as

history depicts Aurora Konigsmark's sturdy son, Maréchal de Saxe, who, in

his youth, 'tis said, tossed off, at one draught and without experiencing

any ill-effects, one whole gallon of wine.

The first time our eye scanned the silent and deserted banquetting halls

of Belmont, with their lofty ceilings, and recalling the traditional

accounts of the hospitable gentlemen, whose joviality had once lit up the

scene, visions of social Ireland of Barrington's day floated uppermost in

our mind. We could fancy we saw the gay roysterers of times by-gone--first

a fête champêtre of lively French officers from Quebec, making merry over

their Bordeaux or Burgundy, and celebrating the news of their recent

victories at Fontenoy, [259] Lauffeld or Carillon, to the jocund sound of

_Vive la France! Vive le Maréchal de Saxe! à la Claire Fontaine_, &c

then Governor Murray, surrounded by his veterans, Guy Carleton, Col.

Caldwell, Majors Hale, Holland, and some of the new subjects, such as the

brave Chs. De Lanaudière, [260] complimenting one another all around over

the feats of the respective armies at the two memorable battles of the

Plains, and all joining loyally in repeating the favorite toast in Wolfe's

fleet, _British colours on every French fort, port and garrison in

America_! Later on, at the beginning of the present century, a gathering

of those Canadian Barons, so graphically delineated by John Lambert in his

_Travels in Canada_, in 1808--one week surrounding the festive board of

this jolly Receiver General of Canada at Belmont, the next at

Charlesbourg, making the romantic echoes of the Hermitage ring again with

old English cheers and loyal toasts to "George the King," or else

installing a "Baron" at the Union Hotel, Place d'Armes,--possibly in

the very Council-room in which the State secrets of Canada were in 1865

daily canvassed--and flinging down to the landlord as Lambert says, "250

guineas for the entertainement." Where are now the choice spirits of that

comparatively modern day, the rank and fashion who used to go and sip

claret or eat ice-cream with Sir James Craig, at Powell Place? Where gone

the Mures, Paynters, Munros, Matthew Bells, de Lanaudières, Lymburners,

Smiths, Finlays, Caldwells, Percevals, Jonathan Sewells? Alas! like the

glories of Belmont, departed, or living in the realms of memory only!

This estate, which, until lately, consisted of four hundred and fifty

acres, extending from the line of the Grande Allée down to the Bijou wood,

was _conceded_ in 1649 by the Jesuit Fathers to M. Godfroy. It passed

over, in 1670, to the celebrated Intendant Talon, by deed of sale executed

on the 28th of September, 1670, before Romain Becquet, Notaire Royal.

Messire Jean Talon is described in that instrument as "Conseiller du roi

en ses conseils d'état et premier Intendant de justice, police et finance

de la Nouvelle France, Isle de Terreneuve, Acadie et pays de l'Amérique

Septentrionale." Shortly after the conquest it was occupied by Chief

Justice Wm. Gregory. In 1765 it was sold for £500 by David Alves of

Montreal, to General James Murray, who, after the first battle of the

Plains, had remained Governor of Quebec, whilst his immediate superior,

Brigadier Geo. Townshend, had hurried to England to cull the laurels of

victory. In 1775, we find that one of the first operations of the American

General Montgomery was to take possession of "General Murray's house, on

the St. Foy road." General Murray also, probably, then owned the property

subsequently known as Holland's farm, where Montgomery had his

headquarters. All through our history the incidents, actors and results of

battles are tolerably well indicated, but the domestic history of

individuals and exact descriptions of localities are scarcely ever

furnished, so that the reader will not be surprised should several

_lacunae_ occur in the description of Belmont, one of the most interesting

Canadian country seats in the neighbourhood of Quebec. The history of

Holland House might also, of itself, furnish quite a small epic; and,

doubtless, from the exalted social position of many of the past owners of

Belmont, its old walls, could they obtain utterance, might reveal

interesting incidents of our past history, which will otherwise ever be

buried in oblivion.

In the memory of Quebecers, Belmont must always remain more particularly

connected with the name of the Caldwells, three generations of whom

occupied its spacious halls. The founder of this old family, who played a

conspicuous part in Canadian politics for half a century, was the Hon.

Col. Henry Caldwell, for many years Receiver General of the Province, by

royal appointment, and member of the Legislative Council. He came first to

Canada in 1759, says Knox, [261] as Assistant Quartermaster General to

Wolfe, under whom he served. When appointed Receiver General, the salary

attached to that high office [262] was £400 per annum, with the

understanding that he might _account_ at his convenience, he never

accounted at all, probably as it was anything but _convenient_ to do

so, having followed the traditional policy of high officials under French

rule, and speculated largely in milk, &c. The fault was more the

consequences of the system than that of the individual, and had his

ventures turned out well, no doubt the high-minded Colonel and Receiver

General would have made matters right before dying. In 1801 Col. Caldwell

was returned member for Dorchester, where he owned the rich Seigniory of

Lauzon, and most extensive mill at the Etchemin river, the same

subsequently owned by J. Thomson, Esq., and now by Hy. Atkinson, Esq. The

colonel was re-elected by the same constituency in 1805, and again in

1809, lived in splendor at Belmont, as a polished gentleman of that age

knew how to live, and died there in 1810. Belmont is situated on the St.

Foye road, on its north side, at the end of a long avenue of trees,

distant three miles from Quebec. The original mansion, which was burnt

down in 1798, was rebuilt by the Colonel in 1800 on plans furnished by an

Engineer Officer of the name of Brabazon. It stood in the garden between

the present house and main or St. Foye road. The cellar forms the spacious

root house, at present in the garden. Col Caldwell's exquisite

entertainments soon drew around his table some of the best men of Quebec,

of the time, such as the gallant Gen. Brock, John Colt man, William

Coltman, the Hales, Foy, Haldimand, Dr. Beeby of Powell Place, J. Lester,

John Blackwood. In 1810 Mr. John Caldwell, son of the Colonel, accepted

the succession with its liabilities, not then known. He however made the

Lauzon manor his residence in summer, and was also appointed Receiver

General. In 1817 Belmont was sold to the Hon. J. Irvine, M.P.P., the

grandfather of the present member for Megantic, Hon. George J. Irvine.

Hon. Mr. Irvine resided there until 1833. The beautiful row of trees which

line the house avenue and other embellishments, are due to his good taste.

In 1838 the property reverted to the late Sir Henry Caldwell, the son of

Sir John Caldwell, who in 1827, had inherited the title by the death of an

Irish relative, Sir James Caldwell, the third Baronet (who was made a

Count of Milan by the Empress Maria Theresa, descended by his mothers'

side from the 20th Lord Kerry). John Caldwell of Lauzon, having become Sir

John Caldwell, _menait un grain train_, as the old peasants of Etchemin

repeat to this day. His house, stud and amusements were those of a baron

of old, and of a hospitable Irish gentleman, spreading money and progress

over the length and breadth of the land. At his death, which happened at

Boston in 1842, the insignificant Etchemin settlement, through his

efforts, had materially increased in wealth, size and population. There

was, however, at his demise, an _error_ in his Government balance sheet of

£100,000 on the wrong side!

Belmont lines the St. Foye heights, in a most picturesque situation. The

view from the east and north-western windows is magnificently grand;

probably one might count more than a dozen church spires glittering in the

distance--peeping out of every happy village which dots the base of the

blue mountains to the north. In 1854 this fine property was purchased by

J. W. Dunscomb, Esq., Collector of Customs, Quebec, who resided there

several years, and sold the garden for a cemetery to the Roman Catholic

Church authorities of Quebec, reserving 400 acres for himself. The old

house, within a few years, was purchased by Mr. Wakeham, the late manager

of the Beauport Asylum. His successful treatment of diseases of the mind

induced him to open, at this healthy and secluded spot, under the name of

the "Belmont Retreat," a private _Maison de Santé_, where, wealthy

patients are treated with that delicate care which they could not expect

in a crowded asylum. The same success has attended Mr. Wakeham's

enterprise at Belmont which crowned it at Beauport.

_AN IRISH EDUCATION IN THE OLDEN TIMES._

Among the old stories handed down in Canadian homes

"In the long nights of winter,

When the cold north winds blow,"

of the merry gatherings and copious feasts of other days, one is told

of a memorable entertainment at Belmont, given a crowd of friends.

Some assert it was the Belmont anniversary dinner of the battle of

Waterloo and bring in of course Blucher, Hougomont! Belle-Alliance and

what not. It is, however, more generally believed among the aged,

judging from the copious libations and kindly toasts drank, that it

partook of a more intimate character and was merely a _fête de

famille_, to commemorate the safe return of sir John Caldwell's

only son from Ireland, where he had just completed his collegiate

course at Dublin, be that as it may, it unquestionably was meant to

solemnise an important family or national event.

As was wont, in those hospitable times, the "landlord's flowing bowl,"

alas! had been emptied too often. Some of the "Barons of the round

table" were in fact preparing for a timely retreat, before the city

gates should be closed, [263] the genial host soon put a stop to such

a treasonable practice, exclaiming that the sentry would let them pass

at any hour, so they need only follow the Commandant, their fellow

guest, who of course had the countersign, closing his well timed

remarks, by raising his voice and proclaiming in an authoritative tone

"no heel taps here," the stately banquet hall re-echoed with cheers "a

bumper, a bumper," resounded on all sides, "to the future Sir Harry,

who has just completed his Irish education." The future Sir Harry was

soon on his legs, and in a voice mellow with old port, youth and fun,

responded "Friends, fellow countrymen, brothers, (this last expression

was challenged as he was an only son) I am indeed proud of my Dublin

education, we have something, however better before us than a

disquisition on the excellence of the various systems of continental

courses, to be brief, I now challenge any here present to meet me on

the classics, astronomy, the cubic root or glass to glass, you have

your choice." "Glass to glass," they one and all replied. Toasts,

songs, healths of every member of the Royal family, were gone through

with amazing zest as time advanced towards the small hours of the

morning, the guests, one by one disappeared from the banqueting room,

some, alas! under the mahogany, more with the genial commander of the

garrison, whilst the stalwart Irish student, still undaunted and

meeting the foe, glass to glass--a veritable giant, fresher as he went

on.

Old Sir John, a well seasoned diner-out, at last found himself

solitary at his end of the table, whilst his son adorned the other end

defiantly.

Looking round in dismay and fearing, if he continued the healths, to

be unequal to cope with such an intrepid Dublin student, he the last

gave up, flinging himself majestically back in his chair, exclaiming

"D----n your Irish education!"

_HOLLAND FARM._

This estate, which formerly comprised two hundred acres of ground,

extending from the brow of the St. Foye heights to St Michael's Chapel on

the Samoa or St. Lewis road, possesses considerable interest for the

student of Canadian history, both under French and English rule. The

original dwelling, a long high-peaked French structure, stood on an

eminence closer to the St. Foye road than does the present house. It was

built about the year 1740, by a rich Lower Town merchant, Monsieur Jean

Taché [264] who resided there after his marriage in 1742 with Mademoiselle

Marie Anne Jolliet de Mingan, grand-daughter to the celebrated discoverer

of the Mississippi, Louis Jolliet. Monsieur Jean Taché was also _Syndic

des Marchands_, member of the Supreme Council of Quebec, and ancestor

to Sir. E. P. Taché. He at one time owned several vessels, but his

floating wealth having, during the war of the conquest, become the prize

of English cruisers, the St. Peter street Nabob of 1740, as it has since

happened to some of his successors in that _romantic_ neighbourhood,

--lost his money. Loss of fortune did not, however, imply loss of honour,

as old memoirs of that day describe him, "Homme intègre et d'esprit." He

had been selected, in the last year of French rule, to go and lay at the

foot of the French Throne the grievances of the Canadians. About this

time, the St. Foye road was becoming a fashionable resort, _Hawkin's

Picture of Quebec_ calls it "The favorite drive of the Canadian Belle

before the conquest." This is an interesting period in colonial life, but

imperfectly known,--nor will a passage from Jeffery, an old and valued

English writer, illustrative of men, manners and amusements in the Colony,

when it passed over to the English monarch, be out of place:--

"The number of inhabitants being considerably increased, they pass their

time very agreeably. The Governor General, with his household; several of

the _noblesse_ of exceeding good families; the officers of the army,

who in France are all gentlemen; the Intendant, with a Supreme Council,

and the inferior magistrates; the Commissary of the Marine; the Grand

Provost; the Grand Hunter; the Grand Master of the Woods and Forests, who

has the most extensive jurisdiction in the world; rich merchants, or such

as live as if they were so; the bishops and a numerous Seminary; two

colleges of Récollets, as many of Jesuits; with three Nunneries; amongst

all those yon are at no loss to find agreeable company and the most

entertaining conversation. Add to this the diversions of the place, such

as the assemblies at the Lady Governess's and Lady Intendant's; parties at

cards, or of pleasure, such as in the winter on the ice, in sledges, or in

skating; and in the summer in chaises or canoes; also hunting, which it is

impossible not to be fond of in a country abounding with plenty of game of

all kinds.

"It is remarked of the Canadians that their conversation is enlivened by

an air of freedom which is natural and peculiar to them, and that they

speak the French in the greatest purity and without the least false

accent. There are few rich people in that Colony, though they all live

well, are extremely generous and hospitable, keep very good tables, and

love to dress very finely.... The Canadians have carried the love of arms,

and glory, so natural to their mother country, along with them.... War is

not only welcome to them but coveted with extreme ardor." [265]

During the fall of 1775, the old mansion sheltered Brigadier Richard

Montgomery, [266] the leader of the American forlorn hope, who fell on the

31st December of that year, at Près-de-Ville, Champlain street, fighting

against those same British whom it had previously been his pride to lead

to victory. About the year 1780, we find this residence tenanted by a

worthy British officer, who had been a great favourite with the hero of

the Plains of Abraham. Major Samuel Holland had fought bravely that day

under General Wolfe, and stood, it is said, after the battle, close by the

expiring warrior. His dwelling took the name of Holland House: he added to

it, a cupola, which served in lieu of a _prospect tower_, wherefrom

could be had a most extensive view of the surrounding country. [267] The

important appointment of Surveyor General of the Province, which was

bestowed on Major Holland, together with his social qualities, abilities

and education, soon gathered round him the _élite_ of the English

Society in Quebec at that time. Amongst the distinguished guests who

frequented Holland House in 1791, we find Edward, afterwards Duke of Kent.

The numerous letters still extant addressed by His Royal Highness from

Kensington Palace, as late as 1814, to the many warm friends he had left

on the banks of the St. Lawrence, contain pleasant reminiscences of his

sojourn amongst his royal father's Canadian lieges. Amongst other

frequenters of Holland House, may also be noted a handsome stranger, who

after attending--the gayest of the gay--the Quebec Château balls,

Regimental mess dinners, Barons' Club, tandem drives, as the male friend

of one of the young Hollands was, to the amazement of all, convicted at a

mess dinner of being a lady [268] in disguise. A _fracas_ of course

ensued. The lady-like guest soon vamosed to England, where _he_ became the

lawful spouse of the Hon. Mr. C----, the brother to Lord F----d. One

remnant of the Hollands long endured; the old fir tree on that portion of

the property purchased by James Creighton, farmer. Holland tree was still

sacred to the memory of the five slumberers, who have reposed for more

than a century beneath its hoary branches. Nor has the recollection of the

"fatal duel" faded away. Holland farm, for many years, belonged to Mr.

Wilson of the Customs Department, Quebec, in 1843 it passed by purchase to

Judge George Okill Stuart, of Québec; Mr. Stuart improved the place,

removed the old house and built a handsome new one on a rising ground in

rear, which he occupied for several summers. It again became renowned for

gaiety and festivity when subsequently owned by Robert Cassels, Esquire,

for many years Manager of the Bank of British North America at Quebec.

Genl. Danl. Lysons had leased it in 1862, for his residence, when the

unexpected vote of the House of Assembly on the Militia Bill broke through

his arrangements. Holland House is still the property of Mr. Cassels.

_THE HOLLAND TREE._

(BY THE AUTHOR OF "MAPLE LEAVES")

"Woodman spare that tree."

It has often been noticed that one of the chief glories of Quebec

consisted in being surrounded on all sides by smiling country seats,

which in the summer season, as it were, encircle the brow of the old

city like a chaplet of flowers; those who, on a sunny June morning,

have wandered through the shady groves of Spencer Wood, Woodfield,

Marchmont, Benmore, Kilmarnock, Kirk Ella, Hamwood, Beauvoir,

Clermont, and fifty other old places, rendered vocal by the voices of

birds, and with the sparkling waters of the great river or the winding

St. Charles at their feet, are not likely to gainsay this statement.

Amongst these beautiful rural retreats few are better known than

Holland Farm, in 1780 the family mansion of Surveyor-General Holland,

one of Wolfe's favourite engineer officers. During the fall of 1775 it

had been the headquarters of Brig. General Montgomery, who chose it as

his residence during the siege of Quebec, whilst his colleague, Col.

Benedict Arnold, was stationed with his New Englanders at the house

southeast of Scott's Bridge, on the Little River road, for many years

the homestead of Mr. Langlois. This fine property, running back as far

as Mount Hermon Cemetery, and extending from the St. Louis or Grand

Allée road, opposite Spencer Wood, down to the St. Foye road, which it

crosses, is bounded to the north by the _cime du cap_, or St. Foye

heights. For those who may be curious to know its original extent to

an eighth of an inch, I shall quote from Major Holland's title-deed,

wherein it is stated to comprise "in superficies, French measure, two

hundred and six arpents, one perch, seven feet eight inches, and _four

eighths of an inch_," from which description one would infer the Major

had surveyed his domain with great minuteness, or that he must have

been rather a stickler for territorial rights. What would his shades

now think could they be made cognizant of the fact that that very

château garden, [269] which he possessed and bequeathed to his sons in

the year 1800, which had been taken possession of for military

purposes by the Imperial authorities, is held by them to this day?

Major Samuel Holland had distinguished himself as an officer under

General Wolfe, on the Plains of Abraham, lived at Holland House [270]

many years, as was customary in those days, in affluence, and at last

paid the common debt to nature. He had been employed in Prince Edward

Island and Western Canada on public surveys.

The Major, after having provided for his wife, Mary Josette Rolet,

bequeathed his property to Frederick Braham, John Frederick,

Charlotte, Susan and George Holland, [271] his children. In 1817,

Frederick Braham Holland, who at that time was an ordnance storekeeper

at Prince Edward Island, sold his share of the farm to the late

William Wilson, of the Customs. Ten years later, John Frederick and

Charlotte Holland also disposed of their interest in this land to Mr.

Wilson, who subsequently, having acquired the rights of another heir,

viz., in 1835, remained proprietor of Holland Farm until 1843, when

the property by purchase passed over to Judge Geo. Okill Stuart, of

this city. Mr. Stuart built on it a handsome mansion now known as

Holland House, which he subsequently sold to Rob. Cassells, Esq., of

Quebec, late manager of the Bank of British North America.

Holland Farm has been gradually dismembered: Coulonge Cottage, at the

outlet of the Gomin Road, [272] is built on Holland farm. A successful

gold digger by the name of Sinjohn purchased in the year 1862 a large

tract of the farm fronting the St. Louis road with Thornhill as its

north eastern and Mr. Stuart's new road as its south-western boundary.

His cottage is shaded by the Thornhill Grove, with a garden and lawn

and adjoins a level pasturage entirely denuded of shrubs and forest

trees. [273] To a person looking from the main gate, at Spencer Wood

in the direction of the south gable of Holland House, exactly in a

straight line, no object intervenes except a fir tree which detaches

itself on the horizon, conspicuous from afar over the plantation which

fronts the St. Foye road. That tree is the Holland Tree. Well! what

about the Holland Tree? What! you a Quebecer and not to know about the

Holland Tree? the duel and the slumberers who have reposed for so many

years under its shade!

Oh! but suppose I am not a Quebecer. Tell me about the Holland Tree.

Well, walk down from the St. Louis road along Mr. Stuart's new road

and we shall see first how the rest of the 'slumberers' has been

respected. Hear the words which filial affection dictated to Frederick

Braham, John Frederick and Charlotte Holland, when on the 14th July

1827, they executed a deed [274] in favor of Wm. Wilson conveying

their interest in their father's estate.

"Provided always and these presents as well as the foregoing deed of

sale and conveyance are so made and executed by the said Robert

Holland acting as aforesaid (as attorney of the heirs Holland) upon

and subject to the _express_ charge and _condition_ that is to say,

that the said William Wilson his heirs and assigns shall forever hold

sacred and inviolable the small circular space of ground on the said

tract or piece of land and premises enclosed with a stone wall and

wherein the remains of the late Samuel Holland, Esquire, father of the

said vendors and of his son the late Samuel Holland jr., Esq., are

interred, and shall and will allow tree ingress and egress at all

times to the relatives and friends of the family of the said Samuel

Holland for the purpose of viewing the state and condition of the said

space of ground and making or causing to be made such repairs to the

wall enclosing the same or otherwise providing for the protection of

the said remains as they shall see fit."

Not many years back the 'small circular space' which Mr. Wilson bound

himself to hold sacred and inviolable and which contained two neat

marble slabs with the names of Messrs. Holland, senior and junior, and

other members of the family engraved on them, was inclosed within a

substantial stone wall to which access was had through an iron gate,

the walls were covered with inscriptions and with the initials of

those who had visited a spot to which the fatal issue of a deadly

encounter lent all the interest of a romance. Nothing now is visible

except the foundation, which is still distinct: the monument stones

have disappeared, the wall has been razed to the ground, some modern

Vandal or a descendant of the Ostrogoths [275] (for amongst all

civilized nations, the repose of the dead is sacred) has laid violent

hands on them! When Mr. Wilson sold Holland farm in 1843 he made no

stipulation about the graves of the Hollands, he took no care that

what he had agreed to hold inviolable should continue to be so held.

The tragical occurrence connected with the Holland Tree is much out of

the ordinary run of events, it seems very like the plot of a sensation

novel--a dark tale redolent with love, jealousy and revenge. Two men

stood, some sixty years ago, in mortal combat, not under the Holland

Tree, as it has generally been believed but near Windmill Point, Point

St Charles, at Montreal, one of them Ensign Samuel Holland, of the

60th Regiment, the other was Capt Shoedde. The encounter, it was

expected would be a deadly one in those duelling days blood alone

could wipe out an insult. Old Major Holland, on bidding adieu to his

son is reported to have said, "Samuel, my boy, here are weapons which

my loved friend General Wolfe, presented me on the day of his death.

Use them, to keep the old family name without stain." Of this

memorable affair W. H. Henderson, Esq., of Hemison, has kindly

furnished me with the following details.

'The duel originated from some, it was considered, unjustifiable

suspicions on the part of Capt. Shoedde of his (Holland's) intimacy

with Mrs. Shoedde so palpably unfounded that young Holland applied to

his father as to whether in honour he was bound to take notice of the

matter. The Major replied by forwarding by post his pistols. Ensign

Holland was mortally wounded at the first shot, but in his agony rose

on his knees and levelled his pistol, aiming for Capt. Shoedde's

heart, who received the ball in his arm laid over his breast.'

Mr. Holland was conveyed to the Merchants Coffee House, in the small

lane, near the river side, called Capital street, where he expired in

great pain. The battalion in which this gentleman served was at that

time, commanded by Major Patrick Murray, a relative of the British

General of Quebec fame, with whom I became very intimate in the years

1808 and 1809. Major Murray's account of the duel agreed with the

general report prevalent in 1799 in Montreal. Murray thought that the

challenge had been given by young Holland and not by Shoedde. Murray

subsequently married sold his commission, and purchased the seignory

of Argenteuil. At that time Sir George Prevost was also a Major In the

60th Regiment of 1790, whilst Murray's commission dated of 1784. Sir

George gave Murray in 1812 a colonel's commission in the militia, who

raised the corps of lawyers in Montreal known, as styled by the

humorous old man, "as The Devil s Own."

_A SCANDAL OF THE LAST CENTURY._

One of the young Hollands had also been a party to a _scandalum

magnum_, which created much gossip amongst our grandfathers, about

the time H.R.H the Duke of Kent was at Quebec.

At a regimental mess dinner a handsome young fellow, having, in these

days of hard swearing and hard drinking, exceeded in wine, was

convicted of being a lady in disguise, attending as the guest of young

Holland, and whose sex was unknown to young Holland.

This lady, whom all Quebec knew as Mr. Nesbitt, turned out to be a

Miss Neville, left for England, and was eventually married to Sir J.

C---, brother of Lord F----, a British nobleman.

One of the Nestors of the present generation, Col. J. Sewell, has

related to me the circumstances as he heard them in his youth from the

lips of a man of veracity and honour--Hon. W. Smith, son of Chief

Justice Smith.

Here are his own words:--"Hon. Mr. Smith told me that Mr. Nesbitt,

_alias_ Miss Neville, was dining at a mess dinner of the 24th

Grenadiers at the Jesuits' Barracks, upper Town market place--Having

sacrificed too freely to the rosy god, an officer of the 24th, Mr.

Broadstreet, I think, helped him to the balcony ... when having to

lean on his supporter, Mr. Broadstreet became confident Nesbitt was a

girl in disguise. Nesbitt drove out after dinner to Holland House and

Broadstreet told the joke all round. Nesbitt hearing of it, sent him,

next day, a challenge for originating such a report.

Mr. Broadstreet, not knowing how to act, applied to one of his

superior officers--Capt. Doyle (subsequently Genl. Doyle, who married

at Quebec, a Miss Smith), for advice, saying: "How can I fight a

girl?" to which Capt. Doyle rejoined, "I will act as your second. If

Nesbitt is a girl, you shall not fight him, and I engage to prove this

fact." He then drove out to Holland House, and found the gay Lothario

Nesbitt flirting with the young ladies. He observed him attentively,

and having tried an experiment, calculated to throw light on the

mysterious foreigner, he went to complain direct to the Governor and

Commander in Chief; Lord Dorchester, who, on hearing the perplexity

caused by Mr. Nesbitt, sent for Dr. Longmore, the military physician,

and ordered him to investigate of what sex Nesbitt might be.

Mr. Nesbitt stormed--refused to submit--vowed he would go direct to

England and make a formal complaint of the indignity with which he was

threatened.

Hon. Jonathan Sewell,--later on Chief Justice, by persuasion,

succeeded in pouring oil on the troubled waters. Nesbitt confessed,

and Quebec was minus of a very handsome but beardless youngster, and

the English Court journals soon made mention of a fashionable marriage

in high life.

_HAMWOOD._

How sweet it is, when mother Fancy rocks

The wayward brain, to saunter through a wood

An old place, full of many a lovely brood,

Tall trees, green arbours, and ground-flowers in flocks

And wild rose tiptoe upon hawthorn stocks,

--_Wordsworth_.

How many vicissitudes in the destinies of places, men, families, nations!

See yonder mansion, its verdant leaves, with the leafy honours of nascent

spring encircling it like a garland, exhaling the aroma of countless buds

and blossoms, embellished by conservatory, grapery, avenues of fruit and

floral trees. Does not every object bespeak comfort, rural felicity,

commercial success!

When you enter that snug billiard-room, luxuriously fitted up with fire

place, ottomans, &c., or when, on a balmy summer evening, you are seated

on the ample verandah, next to the kind host, do you not my legal friend,

feel inclined to repeat to yourself "Commerce, commerce is the turnpike to

health, to affluence, the path to consideration." But was the scene always

so smiling, and redolent of rustic enjoyment.

If so, what means yon stately column, [276] surmounted by its fat,

helmetted Bellona, mysteriously looking round as if pregnant with a mighty

unfathomable future. Ask history? Open Capt. Knox's _Journal of the

Siege of Quebec_, and read therein how, in front of that very spot

where you now stand, along that identical road, over which you emerged

from the city, war once threw her sorrows, ask this brave British officer

to retrace one of those winter scenes he witnessed here more than one

hundred years ago: the howling blast of the north sighing through the few

remaining gnarled pines and oaks spared by Albion's warriors; add to it

tired teams of English troops, laboriously drawing, yoked eight by eight,

long sledges of firewood for Murray's depressed, harassed garrison, and

you have something like John Knox's _tableau_ of St. Foye Road on the

7th December, 1759.--

"Our garrison, now undergo incredible fatigue, not only within but also

without the walls, being obliged to load and sleigh home firewood from the

forest of St. Foy, which is near four miles distant, and through snow of a

surpassing depth, eight men are allowed to each sleigh, who are yoked to

it in couples by a set of regular harness, besides one man who guides it

behind with a long stout pole, to keep it clear of ruts and other

obstructions. We are told that M. de Lévis is making great preparations

for the long-meditated assault on this place (Quebec) with which we are

menaced. Christmas is said to be the time fixed for this enterprise, and

_Monsieur_ says, 'if he succeed he shall be promoted to be _Maréchal de

France_, and if he fail, Canada will be lost, for he will give it up.'"

[277]

Do not, dear reader, however fear for the old rock, it is tolerably secure

so long as Fraser's Highlanders and British Grenadiers garrison it.

We have here endeavored to contrast the smiling present with the dreary

past; peace, progress, wealth, as we find it to-day in this important

appendage of the British Crown, ready to expand into an empire, with the

dismal appearance of things when it was scantily settled, and in those

dark days when war stalked through our land. Hamwood takes its name from

that of the paternal estate of the Hamiltons, county of Meath, Ireland,

and without pretending to architectural excellence, it is one of the

loveliest spots on the St. Foye road. It belongs to Robert Hamilton, Esq.,

a leading merchant of Quebec.

_BIJOU._

And I have heard the whispers of the trees,

And the low laughter of the wandering wind,

Mixed with the hum of golden-belted bees,

And far away, dim echoes, undefined,--

That yet had power to thrill my listening ear,

Like footsteps of the spring that is so near.

--(_Wood Voices_, KATE S. McL.)

Shall we confess that we ever had a fancy for historical contrasts? It is

our weakness, perhaps our besetting sin; and when, on a balmy June day, at

the hour when the king of day it sipping the dew-drops from the flowers,

we ride past this unadorned but charming little Canadian home, next to

Westfield, on the St. Foye heights, as it were sunning itself amidst

emerald fields, fanned by the breath of the fragrant morn, enlivened by

the gambols of merry childhood; memory, in spite of us, brings back the

ghastly sights, the sickening Indian horrors, witnessed here on the 28th

April, 1760. There can be no doubt on this point; the mute, but eloquent

witnesses of the past are dug up every day: shot, shell, bullets, old

bayonets, decayed military buttons, all in the greatest profusion.

"The savages," says Garneau, "who were nearly all in the woods behind

during the fight, spread over the battle-field when the French were

pursuing the enemy, and killed many of the wounded British, whose scalps

were afterwards found upon neighboring bushes. As soon as De Lévis was

apprised of the massacre, he took vigorous measures for putting a stop to

it. Within a comparatively narrow space nearly 2,500 men had been struck

by bullets. The patches of snow and icy puddles on the ground were so

reddened with the blood shed, that the frozen ground refused to absorb,

and the wounded survivors of the battle were immersed in pools of gore and

filth, ankle deep."

Such _was_ the deadly strife in April, 1760, on the identical spot on

which, reader, you and we now stand on the St. Foye heights. Such is

_now_ the smiling aspect of things as you see them at Bijou, which

crowns the heights over the great Bijou marsh, etc., the dwelling of

Andrew Thomson, Esq., (now President of the Union Bank of Quebec.) Some

natural springs in the flower garden, in rear of the dwelling, and slopes

of the ground, when turned to advantage, in the way of terraces and

fountains, bid fair to enhance materially the beauty of this rustic spot.

_ANECDOTE OF WOLFE'S ARMY (1760).--QUEBEC._

By a volunteer (J. T.).

"At the Battle of the Plains of Abraham we had but one Piper, and

because he was not provided with Arms and the usual other means of

defence, like the rest of the men, he was made to keep aloof for

safety:--When our line advanced to the charge, General Townshend

observing that the Piper was missing, and knowing well the value of

one on such occasions, he sent in all directions for him, and he was

heard to say aloud. "Where's the Highland Piper?" and "Five pounds for

a Piper;" but devil a bit did the Piper come forward the sooner.

However, the charge, by good chance, was pretty well effected without

him, as all those that escaped could testify. For this business the

Piper was disgraced by the whole of the Regiment, and the men would

not speak to him, neither would they suffer his rations to be drawn

with theirs, but had them serv'd out by the Commissary separately, and

he was obliged to shift for himself as well as he could.

The next spring, in the month of April, when the Garrison of Quebec

was so madly march'd out, to meet the French, who had come down again

to attack us, and while we were on the retreat back to the Town, the

Highlanders, who were a raw undisciplin'd set, were got into great

disorder, and had become more like a mob than regular soldiers. On the

way I fell in with a captain Moses Hazen, [278] a Jew, who commanded a

company of Rangers, and who was so badly wounded, that his servant,

who had to carry him away, was obliged to rest him on the grounds at

every twenty or thirty yards, owing to the great pain he endured. This

intrepid fellow, observing that there was a solid column of the French

coming on over that high ground where Commissary General Craigie [279]

built his house, and headed by an Officer who was at some distance in

advance of the column, he ask'd his servant if his fuzee was stil

loaded? (The servant opened the pan, and found it is still prim'd).

"Do you see," says Captain Hazen, "that fellow there, waving his sword

to encourage those other fellows to come forward?"--Yes, says the

servant, I do Sir;--Then, says the Captain again, "just place your

back against mine for one moment, 'till I see if I can bring him

down." He accordingly stretch'd himself on the ground, and, resting

the muzzle of his fuzee on his toes, he let drive at the French

Officer. I was standing close behind him, and I thought it perfect

madness to attempt it. However, away went the charge after him, and

faith down he was in an instant. Both the Captain and myself were

watching for some minutes, under an idea that altho' he _had_ laid

down, he might perhaps take it into his head to get up again. But no.

And the moment that he fell, the whole column that he was leading on,

turn'd about and decamp'd off leaving him to follow as well as he

might! I could'nt help telling the Captain that he had made a capital

shot, and I related to him the affair of the foolish fellow of our

grenadiers who shot the savage at the landing at Louisbourg, altho'

the distance was great, and the rolling of the boat so much against

his taking a steady aim. "Oh! yes, says Captain Hazen, you know that a

_chance shot_ will kill the Devil himself."

But, to return to the Highlanders: so soon as the Piper had discovered

that his men had scatter'd and were in disorder, he as soon

recollected the disgrace that still hung upon him, and he likely

bethought to give them a blast of his Pipes. By the Lord Harry! this

had the effect of stopping them short, and they allow'd themselves to

be formed into a sort of order. For this opportune blast of his

chanters, the Piper gain'd back the forgiveness of the Regiment, and

was allow'd to take his meals with his old messmates, as if nothing-

at-all had happened.

On the 6th May, 1760, which was after we had been driven back to the

town by the French, and while they yet lay in their trenches across

that high ground where the martello tower now stands, there came a

ship of war in sight, and she was for some considerable time tacking

across and across between Pointe Lévis and the opposing shore. We were

at a loss to know the meaning of all this, when the commanding Officer

of Artillery bethought himself to go and acquaint General Murray (who

had taken up his Quarters in Saint Louis Street, now (1828) the

Officer's Barracks) of the circumstance: He found the General in a

meditative mood, sitting before the fire in the chimney place. On the

Officer acquainting him that there was a ship of war in sight, the

General was quite electrified! He instantly got up, and, in the

greatest fury, order'd the Officer to have the colours immediately

hoisted on the citadel! Away he went, but dev'l a bit could the

halliards be made to go free until at last, a sailor was got hold of,

who soon scrambl'd up the flagstaff, and, put all to rights in a

jiffy.

All this time the ship of war did not show her own colours, not

knowing whether the town was in the hands of the French or the

English, but as soon as she perceived our flag, she hoisted English

colours, and shaped her course towards the town, and was soon safe at

anchor opposite to the King's Wharf. Our men had been all the winter

in bad spirits from coughs and colds, and, their having been obliged

to retreat from the French, did'nt help much to mend the matter.

However, when they heard that an English man-o-war was come, it was

astonishing how soon they became stout-hearted; faith, they were like

lions, and just as bold! The man-o-war prov'd to be the "Lowestoffe,"

which had been detached from the main fleet below, with orders to make

the best of time through the ice, and take up the earliest

intelligence of the approach of the fleet. Her sides were very much

torn by the floating ice. Our having hoisted colours for the first

time since the conquest, and a ship of war having made her appearance,

led the French to imagine that there was something strange going on.

Indeed they expected a fleet as well as ourselves, and this arrival

brought them out of their trenches, as thick as midges; they appeared

to us like so many pigeons upon a roost! whilst they were gaping at us

in such an exposed position, they received a salute from the whole

line of our guns, extending from Cape Diamond down to the Barrack

Bastion, and yet they went off almost like a single volley. It was

fearful enough to see how they tumbled down in their intrenchments,

like so many sacks of wool! Their seeing soldiers passing ashore from

our frigate, they thought that we were about to receive powerful

reinforcements, and they scamper'd away, their killed and wounded men

along with them. Our men soon were allow'd to go out, and they regaled

themselves upon the soup and pork which the French had left cooking on

the fires. That single discharge disabled so many of our guns, that we

had to get others then in the lower town, and our men were so weak

that they could not drag them up, but which was at last done with the

help of the sailors just arrived in the Fleet.

In about three days after the arrival of the "Lowestoffe" the

remainder of the Fleet came up to Quebec, and finding that the French

had some ships lying above Wolfe's Cove, they went up to look after

them. As soon as the French had seen them coming on, they slipp'd

their cables, and endeavor'd to get out of the way with the help of

the flood-tide, but the Commodore's ship got upon a ledge of rocks,

and stuck fast, and the crew took to the boats, and got ashore,

leaving the ship to take care of itself. There was found, on board of

this ship, one Mons. Cugnet and an Englishman call'd Davis, both of

whom had their hands tied behind their back, and a rope about their

neck, and they were inform'd that they both were to be hang'd at the

yard-arm so soon as the ship's company had finish'd their breakfast!

Monsieur Cugnet was the person who, at the Island of Orleans, gave

General Wolfe the information where would be the best place to get up

the bank above the Town, and Davis, who had been taken prisoner by the

French, some years before, had given some other kind of information,

and they both were to be punish'd as spies. However, they not only got

off with their lives, but were afterwards, well rewarded by our

Government. The former was appointed French-Translator to the

Government Offices, and something more, which enabled him to live

respectably; and Davis, who had been a grenadier-soldier, got a

pension of twenty five pounds a year: they both lived a long time in

the enjoyment of it."

_MORTON LODGE._

The extensive green pastures which General James Murray owned, in 1768, on

the St. Foy road, under the name of _Sans bruit_, [280] form at present

several minor estates. One of the handsomest residences of this well

wooded region was Morton Lodge, on the south side of the highway, and

bounded by the Belvidère road,--about thirty-two acres in extent. It was

honored with this name by one of its former owners, the builder of the

lodge, some sixty years ago--the late James Black, Esquire. Morton Lodge

is built in the cottage style, with a suite of roomy apartments forming a

spacious wing in rear; the lawns in front of the house, with a grove of

trees, add much to its beauty; a handsome conservatory to the east opens

on the drawing room; it is located in the centre of a flower garden. The

additional attraction of this residence, when owned by the late David

Douglas Young was an extensive collection of paintings, purchased at

various times by the owner both in Canada and in Europe: the French,

Flemish and Italian schools were well represented, as well as Kreighoff's

winter scenery in Canada.

Morton Lodge, for many years was the residence of David Douglass Young,

Esquire, once President of the Quebec Bank, and formerly a partner of the

late George B. Symes, Esquire. Mr. Young claimed, on the maternal side, as

ancestor, Donald Fraser, one of Fraser's (78th) Highlanders, a regiment

which distinguished itself at the taking of Quebec, whilst fighting under

Wolfe, on these same grounds.

Forming a portion of this estate, to the west, may be noticed a cosy

little nest, _Bruce's Cottage_, as it was formerly called--now

Bannockburn--surrounded on all sides by trees, lawns and flowers.

_WESTFIELD._

"What, sir, said I," cut down Goldsmith's hawthorn bush, that supplies

so beautiful an image in the DESERTED VILLAGE! 'Ma foy,' exclaimed the

bishop (of Ardagh,) 'is that the hawthorn bush? then ever let it be

saved from the edge of the axe, and evil to him that would cut from it

a branch."--_Howitt's Homes and Haunts of British Poets_.

At Mount Pleasant, about one mile from St. John's Gate, a number of

agreeable suburban residences have sprung up, as if by enchantment, within

a few years. This locality, from the splendid view it affords of the

valley of St. Charles, the basin of the St. Lawrence and surrounding

country, has ever been appreciated. The most noticeable residence is a

commodious cut-stone structure, inside of the toll, erected there a few

years back by the late G. H. Simard, Esq., member for Quebec, and later,

purchased by the late Fred. Vannovous, Esq., Barrister. Its mate in size

and appearance a few acres to the west, on the St. Foye road, is owned by

the Hon. Eugene Chinic, Senator. In the vicinity, under the veil of a

dense grove of trees, your eyes gather as you drive past, the outlines of

a massive, roomy homestead, on the north side of the heights, on a site

which falls off considerably; groups of birch, maple, and some mountain

ash and chesnut trees, flourish in the garden which surrounds the house;

in rear, flower beds slope down in an enclosure, whose surface is

ornamented with two tiny reservoirs of crystal water, which gushes from

some perennial stream, susceptible of great embellishment at little cost,

by adding _Jets d'eau_. The declivities in rear seem as if intended

by nature to be laid out into lovely terraces, with flowers or verdure to

fringe their summits.

In the eastern section of the domain stands,

"The hawthorne bush, with seats beneath the shade,

For talking age and whispering lovers made."

Whether it blossoms on Christmas Day, like the legendary White Thorn of

Glastonbury, "which sprang from Joseph of Arimathea's dry staff, stuck by

him in the ground when he rested there" deponent sayeth not. This majestic

and venerable tree, branching out like a diminutive cedar of Lebanon, is

indeed the pride of Westfield. It is evidently of very great age, though

each summer as green, as fruitful as ever; the oldest inhabitant cannot

recall when it was smaller. If trees could reveal what has passed under

their boughs, would not the veteran hawthorn tell of wounded men resting

beneath it; of the strange garb and cries of combatants, English, French,

Celts, Canadians and Indians, on that luckless 28th April, 1760, when

Murray's soldiers, were retreating in hot haste from St. Foye and placing

the city walls between them and Levi's victorious legions; of shot, shell

and bullets, [281.] whistling through its hoary branches, on that

memorable 13th of September, 1759, when the _Sauvages d'Ecosse_, with

their reeking claymores, were slashing at, and pursuing the French, flying

from the battle field, over the St. Foye heights, to the French Camp on

the north bank of the St. Charles, in a line with the Marine Hospital.

Various indeed for as are the attractions of stately trees; we can

understand why this one is the pride of Westfield. To us, an old denizen

of the country, a stately tree has ever been a companionable; in fact, a

reverential object. In our eyes 'tis not only rich in its own native

beauty; it may perchance also borrow interest from associations and become

a part of our home--of ourselves: it may have overshadowed the rustic

seat, where, in our infant years, one dear to us and now departed, read

the Sunday hymn or taught us with a mother's sanctifying love to become a

good citizen, in every respect worthy of our sire. Perchance it may have

been planted on the day of our birth; it may also commemorate the natal

hour of our first-born, and may it not like ourselves, in our early days,

have required the fostering care of a guardian spirit,--the dews from

heaven to refresh it and encourage its growth. Yes, like the proprietor of

Westfield, we dearly love the old trees of our home.

We were invited to ascend to the loftiest point of this dwelling, and

contemplate from the platform on the roof the majestic spectacle at our

feet. Far below us waved the nodding pinnacles of countless forest trees;

beyond and around us, the site of the old battle-fields of 1759 and 1760,

to the east, the white expanse of the St. Lawrence sleeping between the

Beauport, Orleans and Point Levi shores; to the northwest, the snake-like

course of the St. Charles, stealing through fertile meadows, copses of

evergreens--until, by a supreme effort, it veers round the compass at the

Marine Hospital; there, at sunset, it appears as if gamboling in the light

of the departing luminary, whose rays anon linger in fitful glances on the

spires of Lorette, Charlesbourg and St. Sauveur, until they fade away, far

away in the cerulean distance, over the sublime crags of

_Tsononthouan_,

--"of these our hills

the last that parleys with the setting sun."

or else gild in amber tints, the wooded slopes of the lofty ridges to the

west.

Westfield, forms part of a larger expanse of land, formerly known as the

"Upper Bijou," crowning the heights, overhanging the valley of the St.

Charles, where existed the "Lower Bijou," marshy and green meadows, once

sacred to snipe, and on which the populous suburb St. Sauveur has recently

sprung up. It was granted in free and common soccage, to the late Charles

Grey Stewart, Esq., in 18--; he resided there many years.

In 1870, this lovely old homestead, became the property of the Hon. David

Alex. Ross, Barrister, M.P.P. for the county of Quebec, its present

occupant. Several embellishments have been added to it by this gentleman

and his lady; at present, the views, groves, parterres of Westfield during

the summer months are more attractive than ever.

_COUCY-LE-CASTEL._

"Sol Canadien, terre chérie

Par des braves tu fus peuplé,

Ils cherchaient, loin de leur patrie,

Une terre de liberté,

Qu'elles sont belles, nos campagnes,

Au Canada qu'on vit content!

About the year 1830 that portion of the environs of Quebec watered by the

River St. Charles, in the vicinity of Scott's bridge, had especially

attracted the attention of several of our leading citizens as pleasant and

healthy abodes for their families. Two well known gentlemen in particular,

the bearers of old and respected names, the late Honorable Mr. Justice

Philippe Panet, and his brother the Honorable Louis Panet, "Senator

selected two adjoining lots covering close on eighty acres, on the banks

of the St. Charles, the Cahire-Coubat of ancient days. The main road to

the east intervenes between the Hon. Judge Panet's seat and the mossy old

dwelling in which Col. Arnold had his head-quarters during the winter of

1775-76, now the residence of the Langlois family. Judge Panet built there

an elegant villa on an Italian design, brought home after returning from

the sunny clime of Naples, the rooms are lofty and all are oval. Several

hundred sombre old pines surround the house on all sides.

The neighboring villa, to the west, was planted by the Honorable Louis

Panet, about 1830; also the grounds tastefully laid out in meadows,

plantations and gardens, symmetrically divided off by neat spruce, thorn,

and snowball hedges, which improve very much their aspect. One fir hedge,

in particular, is of uncommon beauty. To the west an ancient pine, a

veritable monarch of the forest, rears his hoary trunk, and amidst most

luxuriant foliage looks down proudly on the young plantation beneath him,

lending his hospitable shades to a semi-circular rustic seat--a grateful

retreat during the heat of a summer's day. Next to this old tree runs a

small rill, once dammed up for a fish-pond, but a colony of muskrats

having "unduly elected domicile thereat," the finny denizens disappeared

as if by magic; and next, the voracious _rodents_ made so many raids

into the vegetable garden that the legal gentleman, who was lord of the

manor, served on them _a notice to quit_, by removing the dam. The

ejected amphibii crossed the river in a body and "elected domicile" in the

roots of an elm tree at Poplar Grove, opposite and in full view of the

castle, probably by way of a threat. On the high river banks is a twelve-

pounder used formerly to crown a miniature fort erected over there. We

remember on certain occasions hearing at a distance its loud _boom_.

Coucy-le-Castel is surrounded on two sides by a spacious piazza, and

stands on an elevated position close to the river bank. From the drawing-

room windows is visible the even course of the fairy Cahire-Coubat,

hurrying past in dark eddies, under the pendulous foliage of some graceful

elms which overhang the bank at Poplar Grove, the mansion of the late L.

T. McPherson, Esq. Now and again from the small fort, amidst the murmur of

rapids not far distant, you may catch the shrill note of the king-fisher

in his hasty flight over the limpid stream, or see a lively trout leap in

yonder deep pool; or else, in the midsummer vacation, see a birch canoe

lazily floating down from _la mer Pacifique_, impelled by the arm of

a pensive law student, dreaming perchance of Pothier or Blackstone,--

perchance of his lady love, whilst paddling to the air:--

"Il y a longtemps que je t'aime

Jamais je ne t'oublierai."

The neighborhood of running water; the warbling of the birds; the distant

lowing of kine in the green meadows; the variety and beauty of the

landscape, especially when the descending orb of day gilds the dark woods

to the west, furnish a strikingly rural spectacle at Coucy-le-Castel, thus

named from a French estate in Picardy, owned by the Badelarts, ancestors,

on the maternal side, of the Panets.

In 1861 Coucy-le-Castel was purchased by Judge Jean Thomas Taschereau, of

Quebec, under whose care it is acquiring each year new charms. A

plantation of deciduous trees and evergreens has taken the place of the

row of poplars which formerly lined the avenue. The Judge's _Château_

stands conspicuous amongst the pretty but less extensive surrounding

country seats, such as the old mansion of Fred. Andrews, Esq., Q. C., the

neat cottage of Fred. W. Andrews, Esq., Barrister, festooned with wild

vines.

_RINGFIELD._

FRANCISCUS PRIMUS, DEI GRATIA, FRANCORUM REX REGNAT.

Inscription on cross erected 3d May, 1536, by Jacques Cartier.

We will be pardoned for devoting a larger space than for other country

seats, in describing Ringfield, on account of the important events of

which it was the theatre.

Close to the Dorchester Bridge to the west, on the Charlesbourg road,

there was once an extensive estate known as Smithville--five or six

hundred acres of table land owned by the late Charles Smith, Esq., who for

many years resided in the substantial large stone dwelling subsequently

occupied by A. Laurie, Esq., at present by Owen Murphy, Esq., opposite the

Marine Hospital. Some hundred acres, comprising the land on the west of

the _ruisseau_ Lairet, known as _Ferme des Anges_, [282] were detached

from it and now form Ringfield, whose handsome villa is scarcely visible

from the Charlesbourg road in summer on account of the plantation of

evergreens and other forest trees which, with white-thorn hedge, line

its semicircular avenue on both sides. One might be inclined to regret

that this plantation has grown up so luxuriantly, as it interferes with

the striking view to be had here of the Island of Orleans, St. Lawrence,

and surrounding parishes. Before the trees assume their vernal honours

there can be counted, irrespective of the city spires, no less than

thirteen steeples of churches in so many parishes. Ringfield takes its

name from its circular meadow (Montcalm's hornwork). In rear it is bounded

to the west by the little stream called Lairet, with the _ruisseau_ St.

Michel in view; to the south, its natural boundary is the meandering

Cahire-Coubat. [283]

Ringfield has even more to recommend it than the rural beauty common to

the majority of our country seats; here were enacted scenes calculated to

awaken the deepest interest in every student of Canadian history. On the

banks of the River St. Charles, 1535-36, during his second voyage of

discovery, Jacques Cartier, the intrepid navigator of St. Malo, more than

three centuries back, it is now generally supposed, wintered. We have

Champlain's [284] authority for this historical fact, though, Charlevoix

erroneously asserts that the great discoverer wintered on the banks of the

River Jacques Cartier, twenty-seven miles higher up than Quebec. A careful

examination of _Lescarbot's Journal of Cartier's Second Voyage_, and

the investigations of subsequent historians leave little room to doubt

Champlain's statement. [285] Jacques Cartier in his journal, written in

the quaint old style of that day, furnishes us curious descriptions of the

locality where he wintered, and of the adjoining Indian town,

_Stadaconé_, the residence of the Chief Donacona. The Abbé Ferland

and other contemporary writers have assigned as the probable site of

Stadacona that part of Quebec which is now covered by a portion of the

suburbs of St. John, and by that part of St. Roch looking towards the St.

Charles. How graphically Jacques Cartier writes of that portion of the

River St. Lawrence opposite the Lower Town, less than a mile in width,

"deep and swift running," and also of the "goodly, fair and delectable bay

or creek convenient and fit to harbour ships," the St. Charles (St. Croix

or Holy Cross) river! and again of the spot wherein, he says, "we stayed

from the 15th of September, 1535, to the 6th May, 1536, and there our

ships remained dry." Cartier mentions the area of ground adjoining to

where he wintered "as goodly a plot of ground as possible may be seen,

and, wherewithal, very fruitful, full of goodly trees even as in France,

such as oak, elm, ash, walnut trees, white-thorns and vines that bring

forth fruit as big as any damsons, and many other sort of trees; tall hemp

as any in France, without any seed or any man's work or labor at all."

There are yet some noble specimens of elm, the survivors of a thick clump,

that once stood on the edge of the hornwork. The precise spot in the St.

Charles where Cartier moored his vessels and where his people built the

fort [286] in which they wintered may have been, for aught that could be

advanced to the contrary, where the French government in 1759 built the

hornwork or earth redoubt, so plainly visible to this day, near the Lairet

stream. It may also have been at the mouth of the St. Michel stream which

here empties itself into the St. Charles, on the Jesuits' farm. The

hornwork or circular meadow, as the peasantry call it, is in a line with

the General Hospital, Mount Pleasant, St. Bridget's Asylum and the

corporation lots recently acquired by the Quebec Seminary for a botanical

garden and seminary, adjoining Abraham's Plains. Jacques Cartier's fort,

we know to a certainty, must have been on the north bank of the river,

[287] from the fact that the natives coming from Stadacona to visit their

French guests had to cross the river, and did so frequently. It does seem

strange that Champlain does not appear to have known the exact locality

where, seventy years previously, Stadacona had stood; the cause may lie in

the exterminating wars carried on between the several savage tribes,

leaving, occasionally, no vestige of once powerful nations and villages.

Have we not seen in our day a once warlike and princely race--the Hurons--

dwindle down, through successive decay, to what _now_ remains of them?

A drawing exists, copied from an engraving executed at Paris, the subject

of which, furnished by G. B. Faribault, Esquire, retraced the departure of

the St. Malo mariner for France on the 6th of May, 1536. To the right may

be seen, Jacques Cartier's fort, [288] built with stockades, mounted with

artillery, and subsequently made stronger still, we are told, with ditches

and solid timber, with drawbridge, and fifty men to watch night and day.

Next comes the _Grande Hermine_, his largest vessel, of about one

hundred and twenty tons, in which Donacona, the interpreter, and two other

Indians of note, treacherously seized, are to be conveyed to France, to be

presented to the French monarch, Francis I. Close by, the reader will

observe _l'Emerillon_, of about forty tons in size, the third of his

ships; and higher up, the hull of a stranded and dismantled vessel, the

_Petite Hermine_, of about sixty tons, intended to represent the one

whose timbers were dug up at the mouth of the St. Michel in 1843, and

created such excitement amongst the antiquaries of that day. On the

opposite side of the river, at Hare Point, the reader will notice on the

plate, a cross, intended to represent the one erected by Cartier's party

on the 3rd May, 1536, in honour of the festival of the Holy Cross; at the

foot a number of Indians and some French in the old costume of the time of

Francis I. So much for Jacques Cartier and his winter quarters, in 1535-

36.

Two hundred and twenty-three years after this date we find this locality

again the arena of memorable events. In the disorderly retreat of the

French army on the 13th of September, 1759, from the heights of Abraham,

the panic-stricken squadrons came pouring down Côte d'Abraham and Côte à

Cotton, hotly pursued by the Highlanders and the 58th Regiment, hurrying

towards the bridge of boats and following the shores of the River St.

Charles until the fire of the hulks anchored in the river stopped the

pursuit. On the north side of the bridge of boats was a _tête de

pont_, redoubt or hornwork, a strong work of pentagonal shape, well

portrayed in Tiffeny's plan of the Siege Operations before Quebec. This

hornwork was-partly wood, defended by palisades, and towards Beauport, an

earthwork--covering about twelve acres, the remains (the round or ring

field), standing more than fifteen feet above the ground, may be seen to

this day surrounded by a ditch, three thousand [289] men at least must

have been required to construct, in a few weeks, this extensive

entrenchment. In the centre stood a house, visible on a plan of Mr.

Parke's, in which, about noon on that memorable day, a pretty lively

debate was taking place. Vaudreuil and some of the French officers were at

that moment and in this spot debating the surrender of the whole colony.

Let us hear an eye-witness, Chevalier Johnstone, General de Lévis' aide-

de-camp, one of the Scotchmen fighting in Canada for the French king,

against some of his own countrymen under Wolfe, after the disaster of

Culloden. It was our good fortune to publish the recently-discovered

journal of this Scotch officer for the first time in 1864. Chevalier

Johnstone's description will strike every one from its singular

accuracy:--

"The French army in flight, scattered and entirely dispersed, rushed

towards the town. Few of them entered Quebec; they went down the

heights of Abraham opposite the Intendant's Palace (past St. John's

gate) directing their course to the hornwork, and following the

borders of the River St. Charles. Seeing the impossibility of rallying

our troops I determined myself to go down the hill at the windmill

near the bake house [290] and from thence across over the meadows to

the hornwork resolved not to approach Quebec from my apprehension of

being shut up there with a part of our army which might have been the

case if the victors had drawn all the advantage they could have reaped

from our defeat. It is true the death of the General-in-chief--an

event which never fails to create the greatest disorder and confusion

in an army--may plead as an excuse for the English neglecting so easy

an operation as to take all our army prisoners.

The hornwork had the River St. Charles before it about seventy paces

broad which served it better than an artificial ditch; its front

facing the river and the heights was composed of strong thick and high

palisades planted perpendicularly with gunholes pierced for several

pieces of large cannon in it, the river is deep and only fordable at

low water at a musket shot before the fort: this made it more

difficult to be forced on that side than on its other side of

earthworks facing Beauport which had a more formidable appearance and

the hornwork certainly on that side was not in the least danger of

being taken by the English by an assault from the other side of the

river. On the appearance of the English troops on the plain of the

lake house Montguet and La Motte, two old captains in the Regiment of

Béarn, cried out with vehemence to M. de Vaudreuil, that the hornwork

would be taken in an instant, by an assault sword in hand, that we

would all be cut to pieces without quarter and nothing else would save

us but an immediate and general capitulation of Canada giving it up to

the English.

Montreul told them that a fortification such as the hornwork was not

to be taken so easily. In short there arose a general cry in the

hornwork to cut the bridge of boats. [291] It is worth of remark that

not a fourth part of our army had yet arrived at it and the remainder

by cutting the bridge would have been left on the other side of the

river as victims to the victors. The regiment Royal Roussillon was at

that moment at the distance of a musket shot from the hornwork

approaching to pass the bridge. As I had already been in such

adventures, I did not lose my presence of mind, and having still a

shadow remaining of that regard which the army accorded me on account

of the esteem and confidence which M. de Lévis and M. de Montcalm had

always shewn me publicly, I called to M. Hugon, who commanded, for a

pass in the hornwork and begged of him to accompany me to the bridge.

We ran there and without asking who had given the order to cut it, we

chased away the soldiers with their uplifted axes ready to execute

that extravagant and wicked operation.

"M. Vaudreuil was closeted in a house in the inside of the hornwork

with the Intendant and some other persons. I suspected they were busy

drafting the articles for a general capitulation and I entered the

house, where I had only time to see the Intendant with a pen in his

hand writing on a sheet of paper, when M. Vaudreuil told me I had no

business there. Having answered him that what he said was true, I

retired immediately, in wrath to see them intent on giving up so

scandalously a dependancy for the preservation of which so much blood

and treasure had been expended. On leaving the house, I met M.

Dalquier, an old, brave, downright honest man, commander of the

regiment of Béarn, with the true character of a good officer--the

marks of Mars all over his body. I told him it was being debated

within the house to give up Canada to the English by a capitulation,

and I hurried him in, to stand up for the King's cause, and advocate

the welfare of his country. I then quitted the hornwork to join

Poulanes at the Ravine [292] of Beauport, but having met him about

three or four hundred paces from the hornwork, on his way to it, I

told him what was being discussed there. He answered me, that sooner

than consent to a capitulation, he would shed the last drop of his

blood. He told me to look on his table and house as my own, advised me

to go there directly to repose myself, and clapping spurs to his

horse, he flew like lightning to the hornwork."

Want of space precludes us from adding more from this very interesting

journal of the Chevalier Johnstone, replete with curious particulars of

the disorderly retreat of the French regiments from their Beauport camp,

after dark, on that eventful 13th September, how they assembled first at

the hornwork, and then filed off by detachments on the Charlesbourg road,

then to Ancient Lorette, until they arrived, worn out and disheartened

without commanders, at day break at Cap Rouge.

On viewing the memorable scenes witnessed at Ringfield,--the spot where

the French discoverer wintered in 1535-36, and also the locality, where it

was decided to surrender the colony to England in 1759--are we not

justified in considering it as both the _cradle_ and the _tomb_ of French

Dominion in the new world?

Ringfield has, for many years, been the family mansion of George Holmes

Parke, Esquire.

CASTOR VILLE

"In woods or glens I love to roam,

* * * *

Or by the woodland pool to rest."

In the deepest recesses of the Lorette woods, amongst the most shady

meanders of the sinuous Cahire Coubat, some five miles due north from

Castel-Coucy, we know a bank, not precisely where

"The wild thyme grows,"

but where you are sure, in spring and summer, to pluck handfuls of

trilliums, wild violets, ferns of rare beauty, columbines, kalmias,

ladies' slippers, ladies' tresses (we mean of course the floral subjects).

In this beauteous region, sacred to Pan, the Naiades, Dryades, and the

daughters of Mnemosyne, you might possibly, dear reader, were you

privileged with a pass from one of our most respected friends, be allowed

to wander; or perchance in your downward voyage from Lake Charles to the

Lorette Falls, in that _vade mecum_ of a forester's existence--a birch

canoe--you might, we repeat, possibly be allowed to pitch your camp

on one of the mossy headlands of Castor Ville, and enjoy your luncheon, in

this sylvan spot, that is, always presuming you were deemed competent to

fully appreciate nature's wildest charms, and rejoice, like a true lover,

in her coyest and most furtive glances.

Castor Ville, a forest wild, where many generations of beavers, otters,

caribou, boars, foxes and hares once roamed, loved and died, covers an

area of more than one hundred acres. Through it glides the placid course

of the St. Charles--overhung by hoary fir trees--from the parent lake to

the pretty Indian Lorette Falls, a distance of about eight miles of fairy

scenery, which every man of taste, visiting Lake St. Charles, ought to

enjoy at least once in his life. It is all through mantled over by a dense

second growth of spruce and fir trees, intersected by a maze of avenues.

The lodge sits gracefully, with its verandah and artillery, on a peninsula

formed by the _Grand Desert_ and St. Charles streams. You can cross

over in a canoe to that portion of the domain beyond the river: along the

banks, a number of resting places--tiny bowers of birch bark--dingies and

canoes anchored all round--here and there a _portage_--close by, a

veritable Indian wigwam--_Oda Sio_ [293] by name. On a bright morning

in early spring, you may chance to meet, in one of the paths, or in his

canoe, a white-haired hunter, the Master of Castor Ville, returning home

after visiting his hare, fox, or otter traps, proudly bearing _Lepus_

in his game bag, next to which you may discover a volume of _Molière_,

_Montaigne_ or _Montesquieu_. On selling Castle-Coucy, its loyal-hearted

old proprietor, taking with him the guns of the fort, retired to the

present wild demesne, in which occasionally he passes, with his family,

many pleasant hours, amidst books, friends and rural amusements, far from

city noises and city excitement.

Castor Ville belongs to the Hon. Louis Panet, member of the Legislative

Council of Canada." (Written in 1865.)

Since this little sketch was penned, sixteen years ago, the unwelcome

shadow of years has crept over our old friend, eighty-six winters and then

frost has cooled the ardor of the _Chasseur_, Castor Ville for Mr. Panet

has lost much of its sunshine.

_THE JOYS OF WINTER._