_Saturday, May 30th._--Went on board the De Witt Clinton steam-boat
about six P.M. and in the brightest possible night sailed up the most
beautiful of rivers. We were not crowded; my excellent friend C----e was
in company, on his way to take unto him a wife, and consequently the
trip was to me unusually agreeable. We kept pacing the deck until we had
passed through the deep shadows of the highlands, and floated over the
silvery expanse of Newburg Bay.
_Sunday, 31st._--Before six A.M. we were set ashore at Albany.
Breakfasted at the Eagle, and at nine A.M. left for Saratoga by the
railroad; thence by stage to Whitehall. The day was fine, the roads
rough enough to be sure. To the north lay the mountain State of
Vermont, and to the south a ridge of bold well-wooded heights. At
Glenfalls we passed the Hudson by a wooden bridge thrown over the very
foot of the cataract: luckily, whilst in the act of crossing, a trace
came unhitched, and we pulled up to order matters, just at the centre of
the misty abyss. Thus were we afforded ample leisure to look on the wild
fall, which, when in the wilderness, must have been a glorious scene;
for, disfigured as it now is by a mill or two of the ordinary kind, it
is still magnificent.
Our ride from this place to Whitehall reminded me much of some part of
North Wales: the enclosures are small, irregularly shaped, and
surrounded by walls of stone; many rills of clear water are crossed,
making their way to the Hudson through rough courses bestrewn with
fragments of rock: close on the left the river is itself visible every
now and then, whilst in the distance rise a confused heap of wild
mountains.
Numerous comely-looking pigs, together with groups of round-faced fat
children, barefooted and bareheaded, complete the resemblance.
For the last seven miles the road was of the roughest kind; but our
coachman rattled along merrily, getting us to Whitehall by ten P.M.
_Monday, June 1st._--At about one we quitted the comfortable inn here,
and the busy little town of Whitehall; and in the fine steamer Phoenix
thridded our way out of the swampy harbour formed by the head-waters of
the lake.
The hills about us rose boldly, and were covered with a variety of trees
now clothed in their freshest leaves, therefore beautiful to look on.
For many miles the channel continues narrow, at times confined by a
steep wall of marble surmounted by rich flowering shrubs; then, for a
short distance, laving the edge of some rich meadow slope. At last, the
lake expanded gloriously, reminding me, at a first glimpse, of the
Trossachs, save that here was less grandeur and deep shadow, the
outlines of the mountains were softer and the valleys more fertile.
The green mountains of the State of Vermont now bounded the lake upon
the north, and on the south rose the Giant-mountains of the State of New
York. These were for ever changing in form, as we crossed and re-crossed
the lake in order to land or receive passengers from stated points. This
circumstance also brought us acquainted with several very lovely
locations. Beneath the old fort of Ticonderago we halted for a few
minutes; and at Crown-point our stay was long enough to allow a rough
sketch to be taken of the roofless barracks and the ruined works.
In the course of our progress we ran into two or three of the sweetest
bays imaginable, where the calm lake was shadowed by steep mountains,
down whose sides leaped little tributary streams that rushed sparkling
and foaming into its turbid bosom.
It is most certain that, had these beauties been given to England or to
Scotland, they would each and all have been berhymed and bepainted until
every point of real or imaginable loveliness had been exhausted: for
myself, I have looked on many lakes, and by none have been more
delightfully beguiled than by a contemplation of this during some nine
hours of sunshine, sunset, and twilight, the last alone too brief.
Atmosphere, I am aware, does much; and this was one of those lovely days
whose influence expands the heart and takes the reason prisoner.
After quitting Burlington, where we encountered the returning
steam-boat, and received a large accession of force, I retired to my
berth, and enjoyed the soundest possible sleep.
_Tuesday, 2nd._--On deck at six A.M.: found the lake had assumed a
river-like appearance; the channel narrow, the banks low and swampy. The
day, too, was as much changed as the scene from yesterday, for a
drizzling rain was falling, and the clouds looked heavy and threatening.
As we neared St. John's, we had a slight custom-house visitation; and,
soon after landing, were served with an excellent breakfast; after which
came the bustle of departure. A string of carriages, of the same build
used throughout the States, occupied half the little street, all loading
heavily with baggage and bipeds, till by nine we got in motion, forming
quite a caravan.
The road lay for a time along the bank of the new canal destined to
unite the head-waters of the lake with the St. Lawrence, and was a
pleasant succession of ditch and bog-hole. It got better after a few
miles' jolting, but was nowhere tolerable, or creditable to his
Majesty's dominions.
On entering La Prairie, at noon, we found the good people annoyed by a
visitation which had not yet reached St. John's, namely, myriads of a
winged insect called the shad-fly; these covered and crowded every
building, filled the water and the air; they lodged on your clothes,
rendered sight difficult, and speaking impracticable, except with closed
teeth. Luckily, these flies neither sting nor bite; so that, setting
aside their appearance, and a certain tickling they inflict upon the
neck and face, they are easily borne with. At half-past one P.M. the
steamer Britannia quitted the port of La Prairie to cross the wide St.
Lawrence, to where our Land of Promise, Montreal, lay glittering in
sunshine some nine miles distant.
Half an hour landed us, and I received the pleasure of a grip of welcome
from my old friend W----w, who, with two or three of his
brother-officers, was on the look-out for me. Leaving my baggage to the
care of Sam, I stepped into the boat, and at once accompanied W----w to
St. Helen's, lying about half a mile from the main land.
In ten minutes more we were treading the verdant sod of the island, when
my first movement was to walk round it. I found it to possess every
variety of country in perfect miniature proportions: here were
wood-crowned steeps, shady glades, and open meadows, all offered in as
many changes as might well be managed on so small a surface. Viewed from
this, the city too looked very attractive, scattered over the southern
side of the great mountain.
This little island was the latest possession of the French in Canada.
Above a fort now in ruins was last elevated the white standard, which at
one time fluttered from the St. Lawrence to the Mississippi: thus
girdling, as it were, the British colonies, France one day looked to
sweep into the Atlantic.
Upon the westernmost point of the island, the tree still stands fresh
and vigorous beneath which the articles for the final cession of the
Canadas were agreed upon, and the last portion of the vast empire
contemplated for France by the genius of Richelieu for ever abandoned.
The present garrison is composed of a company of the Royal Artillery.
Here is an extensive depot for stores, an armoury, two great magazines
containing not less than six thousand barrels of gunpowder and all the
other munitions of war.
In the afternoon I re-crossed the channel and surveyed Montreal, which
has an air completely French. The streets are irregular, narrow,
ill-paved, and moreover rejoice universally in a fishy savour in no way
detracting from their Gallic characteristics.
Here is a large building in progress, or at least standing in an
unfinished state, called the Cathedral, but, saving the size, putting
forth externally small claim to notice; whilst the interior might serve
as a model of ill-taste, both as to arrangement and colour, for the
especial enlightenment of all future building committees. The convents
appear well built; and many of the private dwellings are large, and of a
goodly aspect.
_Thursday, 4th._--Having fully made up my mind on this day to ride over
the race-course, visit the Rapids of _La Chine_, and make a complete
circuit of the mountain, I was resolute, my time being meted, to carry
out my plan despite a thunderstorm of the most violent kind, which began
as we were setting forth and continued all day, with one or two short
intervals of sunshine.
I found in the beauty of the country as seen from the Rapids, and from
the different points of the mountain, ample compensation: what my
complaisant companions felt I am not so sure of. We of a certainty
returned in the afternoon three of the most thoroughly soaked and
dirtiest gentlemen within the wide range of his Majesty's dominions. On
the whole, it was agreed that, having to choose between a ducking or a
dusting, we were better off served up soused in rain and only parboiled,
than we should have been smothered in dust and wholly roasted.
Dined at the hospitable mess of the 32nd, and quitted it late for St.
Helen's.
The lightning was frequent and very vivid during our row across the
rapid; and it was a curious speculation to narrowly watch an occasional
flash descending the tall conducting rods, and gambol along the roof of
the great magazine, as though prying for a sly crevice by which to
enter. It afforded a subject for consideration to calculate the next
possible resting-place of our little isle, should the ignition of six
thousand barrels of gunpowder treat us with an ascension by moonlight.
The soldiers' wives were in great alarm, poor souls! and some of the
chubby regimental urchins, destined to live on gunpowder, were now
crying their eyes out for very fear, as they clung to their mothers'
petticoats, where they gathered in little knots to watch the fantastic
course of the wild fluid.
Fatigue had prepared me for sleep, and my rest was undisturbed,
excepting that I conceived the sentry's quarterly cry of "All's well!"
sounded louder than usual, or that I heard it oftener than was my wont,
as it rose distinctly above the fitful roar of the storm.
_Friday, 5th._--All is perfectly calm, and gladness and increase of
beauty are spread over the newly-renovated field and forest. "What a
delicious spot is this same St. Helen's!"
Such, involuntarily, was my exclamation as I this morning thrust aside
the jalousies from my open window, and felt the pure air rush within my
little chamber, and saw the sunbeams dancing down the passing rapid, and
flashing from the bright roofs and spires of the more distant city. One
might have fancied the tales of El Dorado realized, and that the
precious metals were here devoted to cover the humblest dwellings.
I should like greatly to have a history of this sweet spot since the
first bold savage braved in his canoe the perilous rapid, and found
security beneath the shadow of these spreading trees.
In the winter, by the way, the passage is simple enough,--a natural
high road of ice unites it to Montreal; and last season, my friends
inform me, they drove their light _carioles_ over a finer way than Mac
Adam ever dreamed of, for full thirteen weeks.
Independent of the garrison, the population of St. Helen's is limited to
three or four families in the civil employ of the government, together
with the holder of a fine farm, a scion of the Green Isle, who bears the
unquestionable name of Mister Dolan; a man of little labour but much
Latin, whose humanities are at his finger-ends whilst his toes are out
of his brogues.
In right of a small rental paid to government, this worthy carefully
superintends the dilapidations performing by time and the climate upon
the neat cottage, and a couple of rustic pavilions erected by the taste
of Lady Dalhousie whilst her lord commanded here, together with an
inclosed garden, which would, if decently cultivated, supply Montreal
with fruit and vegetables, all of which, under the inspection of my
friend Mister Dolan, is fast retrograding into its primitive condition.
I this morning, at eleven, met my company at the theatre, a very neat
one; and, what with those already mustered, together with a windfall
just landed from Waterford, in the shape of a pretty woman and her
husband, in search of an engagement, I fancy my friend B----y and I may
manage to get up one night's fun for Montreal, though, for my own part,
I would rather idle than play.
Same night acted a couple of interludes to a full house, and an
exceedingly merry-humoured one; although the only really good thing was
the orchestra, composed of the excellent band of the 32nd regiment,
which had been kindly placed by the commanding officer at the disposal
of "the Lessee."
At a late hour took to the skiff for our quiet retreat, which rose, in
this time of moonlight, above the shining waters like some fairy garden
resting on a bed of mother-of-pearl. We sung Moore's Boat-song, and not
a sound except the appropriate soft plash of the oars came between us
and the echo that faintly repeated our chorus.
The echo from the island, by the way, is very distinct, and oft
repeated; and, on such a night as this, to stand beside the nine-o'clock
gun, listening to its bellow as it reverberates amongst the opposite
heights, is one of the things of these parts worth doing.
_Saturday, 6th._--Again, what sunshine! and how invigorating is the
wind, now breathing sweet music through the trees as their thick leaves
rustle above the swift river!
Two or three large rafts are in sight, their hardy crews straining on
the huge oars as they cross the rapids for the city. At measured
intervals their wild cry fills the air; whilst the notes of our island
bugles, together with the drums of the city, reply merrily and boldly,
as though flinging back the challenge of some approaching horde of
savage invaders.
And verily no beings can look more wild of aspect or attire than the
crews working the huge rafts which navigate these waters. Europeans,
Indians, and _Bois-brules_, as the half-breed is denominated, are all
found in this employ, but so much alike in equipment and complexion,
that, only for the round Saxon face, light hair, and blue eyes, here and
there distinguishable, it would be difficult to conceive them of
different lineage.
A pair of loose trousers of coloured serge or flannel, a sash of scarlet
worsted or wampum girt about the loins over a shirt of indescribable
hue, moccassins on the feet, and a red cap or bonnet of fox-skin, or not
unfrequently a shock of hair that despises any covering, and alike
defies the force of sun and storm, forms the common costume of these
sons of toil, whose lives, commonly of short duration, are wasted in
quick alternations of perilous labour and wild debauch.
Their rough mates, the boatmen of old Mississippi and the lakes, have
nearly disappeared; and how much longer steam and railway will yet leave
this calling open to the Tartar-spirits of the North, it is impossible
to say. At present they are evidently in full employ, for there is
hardly a reach of the rivers flowing about the isles of Montreal but is,
at some time or other throughout the day, laden by these cumbrous rafts,
often measuring one hundred feet in length by ten in width.
These masses are rafted from vast distances; and, during their course of
perhaps fifty days, their crews look for no covering: the rain descends
upon them, and the waves of the rapids rise over them, but they abide
both without shade or shelter; subsisting principally upon pork, dressed
or raw, as may be, and having for their beverage the stream whereon
they may chance to float, except during an occasional halt at some
stated point where whisky invites them to hold a deep but brief carouse.
At ten A.M. crossed to the city according to appointment, to meet three
friends in whose good company I was to visit