Nine or ten pilgrims have joined us at Quebec. We are now ninety-two
in all, including twenty-three priests. There is also another priest
on board, who is not a pilgrim. It is the feast of Pentecost, and
all the priests say Mass. There are Masses all the morning at two
altars--such altars as men hastily improvise on board ship--from 4.30
to 10. The space between decks, forward of the saloon, has been
turned into a chapel. Around about most of the pilgrims have their
staterooms. At the seven o'clock Mass, celebrated by Father Pichon,
S.J., director of the French section of the pilgrimage, the Veni
Creator is sung with fine effect. Some of these French Canadian
priests and several of the lay pilgrims, too, have splendid voices,
trained in the music of the Church.
In the afternoon we assemble in our chapel to sing the vespers of the
day. Several of the lay pilgrims, men and women, lend their voices,
and the ship resounds with the strains of the divine psalmody, the
Veni Creator, and the Magnificat. What fine voices these French
Canadians have, and how well they know the chant of the Church! Even
the lay pilgrims sing the psalms and hymns in Latin, recite with us
the Litany of Loreto in Latin, and seem to understand every word of
what they sing or say.
In the evening at eight there is service in English. We sing two
hymns:--Nearer My God to Thee, and, Come Holy Ghost. Many of the
French priests and lay pilgrims join us in singing. Father Kavanagh,
S.J., director of the English-speaking pilgrims, gives an instruction
on the mission and work of the Holy Ghost. This is followed by the
Rosary in English, and Night Prayers in French. Every day we say the
Rosary together, in French at 3.30 p.m., and in English at 8.30.
Every day, too, hymns are sung to our Blessed Lady, the Ave Maris
Stella and her own canticle of the Magnificat being our favourites.
All day long we steam down the St. Lawrence, hugging the southern
bank. Early in the afternoon, the mountains of St. Anne are seen in
the distance. They rise to a height of from two to three thousand
feet, back of the hills that border on the river. Their summits and
shoulders are white with snow. It forms a pleasing contrast to the
blue of the river, and the green of the fields that lie at their
feet. By this time all trace of tears has been wiped away from the
face of the June sky, which smiles benignantly upon us. It is
glorious weather.
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