Chapter V: Modern Quebec (4)

To the late Lieut.-Governor Letellier is due the initiation of the _soirées littéraires_, which united under his hospitable roof the literary talent of the Ancient Capital, and his successor, Lieut.-Governor Robitaille, not only followed this enlightened course, but also added _soirées musicales_ and _artistiques_.

Spencer Wood was not included in the schedule and division of property handed over by the Dominion Government to the Province of Quebec--it was, however, about that time presented as a gift to our province, solely as a gubernatorial residence--as such to be held, and consequently cannot be sold by the Government of the Province of Quebec.

HENRY WATSON POWELL was commissioned a Lieutenant in the 46th Foot,
March 10th, 1753. He was promoted to a captaincy in the 2nd Battalion
of the 11th Foot, September 2nd, 1756, but upon that battalion's being
detached from the 11th and renumbered in 1758, his regimental number
became the 64th. He served in the expedition against the French West
India Islands in 1759, and went with his regiment to America in 1768.
June 2nd, 1770, he became Major of the 38th Foot, and July 23rd, 1771,
Lieutenant-Colonel of the 53rd Foot, which was then stationed at
Minorca. He accompanied his corps to Canada in the spring of 1776, and
on June 10th of that year, a few days after his arrival, Sir Guy
Carleton appointed him a Brigadier General and assigned him to the 2nd
Brigade, which consisted of the 34th, 53rd and 20th Regiments. When
Gen. Gordon's brigade was broken up on the death of that officer,
August 1st, 1776, the 62nd was added to Powell's brigade, and in
November of that year, upon General Nesbit's death, Gen. Powell was
transferred to the command of the 1st Brigade, consisting of the 9th,
47th, 31st and 21st Regiments, save that the 53rd was substituted for
the 21st. Gen. Powell served under Gen. Carleton in 1776, and the next
year accompanied Burgoyne. In organizing the troops for Burgoyne's
expedition in 1777, Gen. Powell was assigned to the 2nd Brigade,
consisting of the 20th, 21st and 62nd Regiments. The 62nd was left at
Ticonderoga, however with Prince Frederick's (German) Regiment and a
portion of Captain Borthwick's company of the Royal Artillery July 5th
when the Americans evacuated that fort, and August 10th Gen. Powell
was sent back to assume command of that post, his regiment, the 53rd,
being also ordered to relieve the 62nd. Though he successfully
repelled the American Col. Brown's attack on Ticonderoga and for four
days maintained a gallant defence, the enemy retreating September
22nd, yet inasmuch as a considerable part of four companies of the
53rd were surprised in the old French lines and at the outposts by the
American advance, and a number of American Prisoners were recaptured,
the affair was not one of unmixed satisfaction to either side.

When the toils of adversity began to tighten round Burgoyne in October
Gen. Powell was sorely puzzled as to his duty for though he was out of
Sir Guy Carleton's military jurisdiction yet that officer was
accessible while Burgoyne, his own proper commander was not. The
following letter, there fore, written by Sir Guy to Gen. Powell, after
Burgoyne's surrender, though in ignorance of that event, throws some
light upon the awkwardness of Powell's situation. The letter reads as
follows:--

QUEBEC, the 20th October, 1777.

SIR,--I have this moment received your letter of the 19th instant,
wherein you demand orders from me for your guidance in your present
emergency. It is impossible that I should give orders to you, not
alone because the post you are in has been taken out of my command,
but the distance is too great for my being able to judge of the
situation of Gen Burgoyne or of the exigencies of the place you are at
which must depend upon the other, as if you were subject to my
commands ignorant as I am of the strength or weakness of your post, I
should under all the other circumstances think it best for His
Majesty's service to suffer you to act by your own judgment, so you
will there fore easily see the greater necessity there is as matters
are for my leaving you to pursue such steps, as shall be suggested to
you by your own prudence and reason. I can only recommend to you not
to balance between two opposite measures, whereby you may be disabled
from following the one or the other with advantage but that either you
prepare, with vigour to put to place in such a situation as to be able
to make the longest and most resolute defence or that you prepare in
time to abandon it with all the stores while your retreat may be
certain. Your own sense will tell you that this latter would be a most
pernicious measure if there be still hopes of General Burgoyne coming
to your post.

I am, sir, &c.

Though Sir Guy did not feel at liberty to issue orders to Gen. Powell
yet he immediately despatched Gen. Maclean with the 31st regiment, the
Royal Highland Emigrants and a detachment of artillery with four guns
to take post and entrench at Chimney Point, near Crown Point, in order
to keep up communication with Ticonderoga. Two or three weeks later
Gen. Powell abandoned Ticonderoga and withdrew to Canada. After a
short tarry at St. John's he was posted at Montreal, where he
commanded during the winter of 1777-8. Then he was stationed at St
John's and in the autumn of 1780, after Lieut.-Colonel Bolton's
unfortunate loss on Lake Ontario, we find him in command of the upper
posts with his headquarters at Niagara. By Gen. Haldimand's order of
October 21st, 1782, Brig.-Gen. Maclean was assigned to the command of
the upper posts, and Gen. Powell was appointed commandant of Quebec.
How long he remained at Quebec has not been ascertained, but in 1780
he bought a fine estate on the St. Lewis Road, about two and a half
miles from Quebec to which he gave the name of Powell Place and which
he did not dispose of until 1796, when he sold it to Francis
Lehoullier. This place was subsequently known as Spencer Wood, but it
has since been divided, the larger portion being still known as
Spencer Wood, and serving as the residence of the Lieutenant-Governor,
while the smaller portion consisting of about forty acres and known as
Spencer Grange, belongs to and is the property of J. M. LeMoine,
President of the Literary and Historical Society of Quebec.

Gen. Powell became a Colonel in the army February 19th, 1779; a Major
General, November 20th, 1782; Colonel of the 69th Foot, April 16th,
1792; Colonel of the 15th Foot, June 20th, 1794 (not April 20th, as
printed in Burgoyne's Orderly Book); A Lieutenant-General, May 3rd,
1796, and a General, January 1st, 1801. He died at an advanced age at
Lyme, England, July 14th, 1814.

Army Lists--Gentleman's Magazine, vol. 84, p. 190; Burgoyne's Orderly
Book, p. 10; Hadden's Journal; Haldimand Papers; LeMoine's Maple
Leaves, 3rd series; J. M. LeMoine's Title Deeds." (_From Gen. Horatio
Rogers' Notes on HADDEN'S JOURNAL of Burgoyne's Campaign_, 1776.)

_A FÊTE CHAMPÊTRE AT POWELL PLACE._

(From the French of P. A. DeGaspé.)

"At half-past eight A.M., on a bright August morning (I say a bright
one, for such had lighted up this welcome _fête champêtre_ during
three consecutive years), the _élite_ of the Quebec _beau monde_ left
the city to attend Sir James Craig's kind invitation. Once opposite
Powell Place (now Spencer Wood) the guests left their vehicles on the
main road, and plunged into a dense forest, following a serpentine
avenue which led to a delightful cottage in full view of the majestic
St. Lawrence; the river here appears to flow past amidst luxuriant
green bowers which line its banks. Small tables for four, for six, for
eight guests are laid out facing the cottage, on a platform of planed
deals--this will shortly serve as a dancing floor _al fresco_; as the
guests successively arrive, they form in parties to partake of a
_déjeuner en famille_. I say _en famille_, for an _aide-de-camp_ and a
few waiters excepted, no one interferes with the small groups clubbed
together to enjoy their early repast, of which cold meat, radishes,
bread, tea and coffee form the staples. Those whose appetites are
appeased make room for new comers, and amuse themselves strolling
under the shade of trees. At ten the cloth is removed; the company are
all on the _qui vive_. The cottage, like the enchanted castle in the
Opera of Zemira and Azor, only awaits the magic touch of a fairy; a
few minutes elapse, and the chief entrance is thrown open; Little King
Craig followed by a brilliant staff, enters. Simultaneously an
invisible orchestra, located high amidst the dense foliage of large
trees, strikes up "God Save the King." All stand uncovered, in solemn
silence, in token of respect to the national anthem of Great Britain.

"The magnates press forward to pay their respects to His Excellency
Those who do not intend to "trip the light fantastic toe" take seats
on the platform where his Excellency sits in state; an A.D.C. calls
out, _gentlemen, take your partners_, and the dance begins.

"Close on sixty winters have run by since that day, when I,
indefatigable dancer, figured in a country dance of thirty couples. My
footsteps, which now seem to me like lead, scarcely then left a trace
behind them. All the young hearts who enlivened this gay meeting of
other days are mouldering in their tombs, even _she_, the most
beautiful of them all, _la belle des belles_--she, the partner of
my joys and of my sorrows--she who on that day accepted in the
circling dance, for the first time, this hand, which two years after
was to lead her to the hymeneal altar--yes, even she has been swept
away by the tide of death. [231] May not I also say, with Ossian,
'Why art thou sad, son of Fingal! Why grows the cloud of thy soul! the
sons of future years shall pass away, another race shall arise! The
people are like the waves of the ocean, like the leaves of woody
Morven--they pass away in the rustling blast, and other leaves lift
their green heads on high.'

"After all, why, indeed, yield up my soul in sadness? The children of
the coming generation will pass rapidly, and a new one will take its
place! Men are like the surges of the ocean, they resemble the leaves
which hang over the groves of my manor, autumnal storms cause them to
fall, but new and equally green ones each spring replace the fallen
ones. Why should I sorrow? Eighty-six children, grand-children, and
great-grand-children, will mourn the fell of the old oak when the
breach of the Almighty shall smite it. Should I have the good fortune
to find mercy before the Sovereign Judge: should it be vouchsafed to
me to meet again the angel of virtue who cheered the few happy days I
passed in this vale of sorrow, we will both pray together for the
numerous progeny we left behind us. But let us revert to the merry
meeting previously alluded to. It is half-past two in the afternoon,
we are gaily going through the figures of a country-dance, 'Speed the
plough' perhaps, when the music stops short, everyone is taken aback,
and wonders at the cause of interruption. The arrival of two prelates,
Bishop Plessis and Bishop Mountain, gave us the solution of the
enigma; an aide-de-camp had motioned to the bandmaster to stop on
noticing the entrance of the two high dignitaries of the respective
churches. The dance was interrupted whilst they were there, and was
resumed on their departure. Sir James had introduced this point of
etiquette from the respect he entertained for their persons.

"At three the loud sound of a hunters horn is heard in the distance;
all follow His Excellency in a path cut through the then virgin forest
of Powell Place. Some of the guests from the length of the walk, began
to think that Sir James had intended those who had not danced to take
a "constitutional" before dinner, when, on rounding an angle a huge
table, canopied with green boughs, groaning under the weight of
dishes, struck on their view--a grateful oasis in the desert. Monsieur
Petit, the _chef de cuisine_, had surpassed himself, like Vatel,
I imagine he would have committed suicide had he failed to achieve the
triumph by which he intended to elicit our praise. Nothing could
exceed in magnificence, in sumptuousness this repast--such was the
opinion not only of Canadians, for whom such displays were new, but
also of the European guests, though there was a slight drawback to the
perfect enjoyment of the dishes--_the materials which composed them
we could not recognize_, so great was the artistic skill, so
wonderful the manipulations of Monsieur Petit, the French cook.

"The Bishops left about half an hour after dinner, when dancing was
resumed with an increasing ardor, but the cruel mammas were getting
concerned respecting certain sentimental walks which the daughters
were enjoying after sunset. They ordered them home, if not with their
menacing attitude with which the goddess Calypso is said to have
spoken to her nymphs, at least with frowns; so said the gay young
_cavaliers_. By nine o'clock, all had re-entered Quebec."

_SPENCER GRANGE._

"Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books"--_Thomson_

When Spencer Wood became the gubernatorial residence, its owner (the late Hy. Atkinson) reserved the smaller half, Spencer Grange, some forty acres, divided off by a high brick wall and fence, and terminating to the east in a river frontage of one acre. A small latticed bower facing the St. Lawrence overhangs the cliff, close to where the Belle Borne rill--nearly dry during the summer months--rushes down the bank to Spencer Cove, in spring and autumn,--a ribbon of fleecy whiteness. To the south, it is bounded by Woodfield, and reaches to the north at a point opposite the road called Stuart's road which intersects Holland farm, leading from the St. Lewis to the Ste. Foye highway. The English landscape style was adopted in the laying out of the flower garden and grounds; some majestic old trees were left here and there through the lawns; three clumps of maple and red oak in the centre of the meadows to the west of the house grouped for effect; fences, carefully hidden away in the surrounding copses; hedges, buildings, walks and trees brought in here and there to harmonize with the eye and furnish on a few acres a perfect epitome of a woodland scene. The whole place is girt round by a zone of tall pine, beech, maple and red oaks, whose deep green foliage, when lit up by the rays of the setting or rising sun, assume tints of most dazzling brightness,--emerald wreaths dipped into molten gold-overhanging under a leafy arcade, a rustic walk, which zigzags round the property, following to the southwest the many windings of the Belle Borne streamlet. This sylvan region most congenial to the tastes of a naturalist, echoes in spring and summer with the ever-varying and wild minstrelsy of the robin, the veery, the songsparrow, the red-start, the hermit-thrush, the red-eyed flycatcher and other feathered choristers, while the golden-winged woodpecker or rain fowl, heralds at dawn the coming rain of the morrow, and some crows, rendered saucy by protection, strut through the sprouting corn, in their sable cassocks, like worldly clergymen computing their tythes. On the aforesaid walk, once trodden over by the prince of American naturalists, the great Audubon, whilst on a visit to Mr. Atkinson at Spencer Wood, was conferred the name of _Audubon Avenue_, by his Sillery disciple, the author of the _Birds of Canada. The grand river views of Spencer Wood, are replaced by a woodland scenery, sure to please the eye of any man of cultivated taste, accustomed to the park-like appearance of the south of England. In front of the mansion, close to the lawn, stands the noblest elm tree of Sillery (_Ulmus Americanus_), leafy to its very roots. Here, amidst literature and flowers, after leaving Spencer Wood, lived for several years Henry Atkinson, a name in those regions once synonymous with ornamental gardens and flowers. Graperies, conservatories, an orchid house soon sprung up under his hand at this spot, larger than Spencer Wood had ever boasted of in its palmiest days, since 1860, it is the seat of J. M. LeMoine.

The advent in Quebec of the great Audubon is heralded thus in the
Quebec _Gazette_ of the 23rd September, 1842:--

"To the Editor of the Quebec _Gazette_"

SIR,--It does not appear to be known to the Quebec public that one of
the most distinguished men of the present age is now on a visit to our
city--John James Audubon, the author of the magnificent work entitled
'Ornithological Biography; or an Account of the Habits of the Birds of
America, etc.' I understand that Mr. Audubon devoted nearly fifty
years of his life to this interesting subject, and has placed before
the world, at a cost of £27,000 sterling, the whole family of the
feathered tribe, giving to each its natural size, and coloured to the
very life. Mr. Audubon has brought one copy [232] of his work with
him, let as hope it may be secured by our citizens. It is his first
visit to Quebec, the splendid scenery of which has induced him to
prolong his stay a few days. His present portfolio contains several
beautiful specimens of the quadrupeds of America, now in course of
publication by him as a companion to the above splendid work, which
only requires to be seen to ensure him a numerous list of subscribers
in this neighborhood.

"In order to afford Mr. Audubon every facility in the pursuit of his
arduous and interesting undertaking, the President of the United
States and the Commander-in-Chief, General Winfield Scott, have
furnished him the necessary documents to ensure him a cordial
reception throughout the Union.

"Mr. Audubon thus speaks of his meeting on the coast of Labrador, a
British officer well known to us all in Quebec--"But few days had
elapsed, when one morning we saw a vessel making towards our
anchorage, with the gallant flag of England waving in the breeze and
as she was moored within a cable's length of the _Ripley_, I soon
paid my respects to her commander, Captain Bayfield, of the Royal
Navy. The politeness of British naval officers is proverbial, and from
the truly frank and cordial reception of this gentleman and his brave
companions in arms, I felt more than ever assured of the truth of this
opinion. On the _Gulnare_ there was an amiable and talented surgeon,
who was a proficient in botany. We afterwards met the vessel in
several other harbors.'

"The name of John James Audubon, we should hope, is quote sufficient
to ensure him a cordial welcome throughout the British dominions in
America, and we sincerely hope that his visit to Quebec may hereafter
be a source of pleasing remembrance to him.

"H.

"Quebec, Sept. 23, 1842."

(_From the Antiquarian and Numismatic Journal._)

MY VISIT TO SPENCER GRANGE, QUEBEC, IN 1856, THE COUNTRY SEAT OF J. M.
LEMOINE.

BY BENJAMIN SULTE, THE HISTORIAN OF "THREE RIVERS."

[Translated from the French.]

One of the greatest attractions for me, says Mr. Sulte, in visiting
Spencer Grange, was its museum of Canadian birds, comprising two-
thirds of the Feathered tribe of the Dominion, with a fair sprinkling
of foreign specimens in the skin, and a collection of birds' eggs. Our
friend, long known among Canadian naturalists for his persevering
efforts during twenty years to popularize [233] the beautiful and
instructive study of ornithology, had evidently met with more than one
ally--in fact, many sympathizers. I am inclined to think--in his
special branch of natural history., Each class of birds, in this
apartment, has its corner; judging by the label, its "habitation,", as
well as name.

The thrushes and flycatchers of Canada, from their exquisite bright
tints or delicate arrow-shaped markings, are particularly conspicuous.

The cinnamon-backed cuckoo must be a graceful minstrel in our green
hedges in July, though I am ashamed to admit I never was lucky enough
to meet him. The oriole, blue jay, officer-bird, summer red-bird,
indigo-bird and golden-winged woodpecker form a group of striking
beauty; a most excellent idea, I would say, to thus place in
juxtaposition the most gorgeously habited of our feathered choristers
for the sake of contrasts.

A succession of drawers contain the nests and eggs, scientifically
labelled, of many Canadian species, and of some of the most melodious
songsters of France and England; pre-eminent stands the Italian,
French and Devonshire nightingale and its eggs. Our time was much too
limited to allow us to treasure up all the anecdotes and theories
anent birds, their mysterious spring and autumn migrations, their
lively memory of places, so agreeably dealt out to us. We cannot,
however, entirely omit noticing some curious objects we saw--the tiny
nest of a West Indian humming bird male out of a piece of sponge, and
he _cubiculum_ of a redheaded woodpecker, with its eggs still in
it, scooped out of the decayed heart of a silver birch tree, with the
bird's head still peering from the orifice in the bark. Here, as well
as in the library, the presentations were numerous: Col. Rhodes was
represented by a glossy Saguenay raven. I listened, expecting each
moment to hear it, like Poe's nocturnal visitor, "ghostly, grim and
ancient," croak out "nevermore!"

The late Hon. Adam Fergusson Blair, once a familiar of Spencer Grange,
was remembered by some fine Scotch grouse, ptarmigan and a pair of
capercailzie, in splendid feather, brought from Scotland. A good
specimen of the silvery gull, shot at Niagara Falls, was a gift from
John William McCallum, Esq., now of Melbourne, E.T.--an early friend
of our friend, whilst a very rare foreign bird (a Florida or glossy
ibis), shot at Grondines, had been contributed by Paul J. Charlton,
Esq., a Quebec sportsman. What had brought it so far from home?

At the bead of the grave, omniscient owls, like the foreman of a grand
jury, stood a majestic "grand duc," the largest owl of the Pyrénées,
resembling much our Virginian species,--a donation from a French
_savant_, Le Frère Ogérien. The owls have ever been to me a deep
subject of study, their defiant aspect, thoughtful countenances, in
which lurks a _soupçon_ of rapacity, remind me of a mayor and
town council bent on imposing new taxes without raising too much of a
row.

A gaudy and sleek bird of Paradise had been donated by Miss Caron, of
the adjoining _château_. There was also a newly-patented bird-
trap, sent by a New York firm, in the days of Boss Tweed, Conolly,
Field and other birds of prey I noticed boxes for sparrows to build
in, designed by Col W Rhodes. On the floor lay a curious sample of an
Old World man-trap, not sent from New York, but direct from England, a
terror to poachers and apple stealers, French swords and venomous
looking bayonets, of very ancient design, a rusty, long Indian musket
barrel together with _tibiae_ and _tarsi_, labelled 1759-60, presents
from H. J. Chouinard, Esq., the owner in 1865 of the site of the
battlefield at St. Foye, where stands _Le Monument des Braves_. A
bristling-fretful porcupine, a ferocious-looking lynx, and several
well-mounted specimens of game had been donated by McPherson Le Moyne,
Esq., the President of the "Montreal Fish and Game Protection Club,"
also several other contributions from the same.

Who had sent the colossal St. Bernard dog, like another Maida,
talking over the lawn, we had not an opportunity of asking. We patted
him, all trembling.

The flower garden is laid out in the modern landscape style. Fences
carefully concealed, a deep fringe of hard wood trees on one side, a
trim lilac hedge on the other, and a plantation of shrubs, roan,
barbary, sumac, lilac and young maple. On the side west of the house
was observable, next to a rustic seat, in the fork of a white birch,
an archaeological monument made with the key-stone of Prescott and
Palace Gates when removed by order of the City Corporation, [234] it
stands about ten feet in height.

From this spot, spanned by a little rustic bridge, a walk meanders
round the property to the west, canopied by a grove of silver birch,
oak, beach, pine and maple. Along the serpentine brook, Belle-Borne,
now so diminutive, and which, according to the historian Ferland, two
centuries ago turned the wheel of a mill below, is visible a dam,
creating a small pond in May, June and July, a favorite bathing place,
we are told, for the thrushes, robins and other songsters of the
adjoining groves. This tiny runlet is fringed with several varieties
of ferns, dog-tooth violets and other algae--(_From L'Opinion
Publique._)

_SPENCER OR BAGATELLE COTTAGE._

"We have many little Edens
Scattered up and down our dales;
We've a hundred pretty hamlets,
Nestling in our fruitful vales,
Here the sunlight loves to linger,
And the summer winds to blow,
Here the rosy spring in April,
Leapeth laughing from the snow."

On the western corner of the Spencer Grange property, and dependant to it, can be seen from the road, _Bagatelle_--a long, straggling, picturesque cottage, in the Italian style, with trees, rustic seats, walks and a miniature flower-garden round it; a small prospect pavillion opens on the St. Lewis road, furnishing a pretty view of the blue range of mountains to the north; in summer it peeps from under clusters of the green or purple leaves of some luxuriant _Virginian_ creepers--our American ivy--which climb round it. _Bagatelle was generally occupied by an _attaché_ of Spencer Wood, in the days of the Earl of Elgin and Sir Edmund W. Head.

Bagatelle is a quiet little nest, where our Canadian Laureate, Fréchette, might be tempted to pen an invitation to his brother bard of the city, LeMay, somewhat in the manner of the soft warbler of Albion towards his friend the Revd. P. D. Maurice:

"Where, far from smoke or noise of town,
I watch the twilight falling brown
All round a careless ordered garden,
Close to the ridge of a noble down.

You'll have no scandal while you dine,
But honest talk and wholesome wine,
And only hear the magpie gossip
Garrulous under a roof of pine.

For groves of pine on either hand,
To break the blast of winter, stand;
And further on the hoary channel
Tumbles a breaker on chalk and sand."

The poet has sometimes received as well as sent out poetical invitations. Here is one from Water Savage Landor.

"I entreat you, Alfred Tennyson,
Come and share my haunch of venison,
I have, too, a bin of claret,
Good, but better when you share it.
Though 'tis only a small bin
There's a stock of it within,
And, as sure as I'm a rhymer,
Half a butt of Rudesheimer,
Come, among the sons of men is none
Welcomer than Tennyson?"

_THE WOODFIELD OF THE PAST._

"Deambulatio per loca amoena."--_Frascatorius_

"Unquestionably the most ornate and richly laid-out estate around Quebec is Woodfield, formerly the elegant mansion of the Honorable Wm. Sheppard, afterwards of Fairymead, Drummondville. For many years past it has become the permanent residence of the Gibb family. The horticultural department and conservatory are under the immediate charge of Andrew Torrance, Esq., Mrs. Gibb's brother. His taste is too well known to require any praise, and truly may it be said that the lovers of sweet flowers, trim hedges, and fairy scenery, can easily beguile several hours together in exploring the broad acres of Woodfield, equal in extent to Spencer Wood itself. In the year 1646, the company of New France, under M. de Montmagny, conceded this land, a lot of ground, with a frontage of three _arpents_, to Jean Bouvart dit Lafortune. Jean Beauvart resold in 1649 to Barthélémy Gaudin, in 1702 this land was possessed by Guillaume Pagé dit Garey. In 1724, Nicholas de la Nouiller purchased it and sold it in 1731 to Monseigneur Dosquet, Bishop of Samos. In 1762, the seminary, then proprietor of these grounds, conceded to Thomas Ainsley, the portion on which stood the house, built by Bishop Dosquet. Judge Mabane acquired it in 1769, he died in 1792, when his sister Miss. Isabella Mabane purchased it in 1794 and held it until 1805, when the Honorable Matthew Bell purchased it.

Let us hear on this subject one who knows how to describe and embellish a country seat.--

"In the early part of the last century," says the Honorable Wm. Sheppard, "this estate was in the possession of Monseigneur Dosquet, [235] titular Bishop of Samos _in partibus infidelum_, and he gave it that name after his Episcopal title. He built a substantial stone residence near the brow of the hill, overlooking the St. Lawrence--a one story house--with a high peaked roof, long and narrow, after the mode of building in those days, something in the style of the manor house at Beauport. The name of Samos is now superseded by that of Woodfield, yet it is still in use as applied to the high road passing on its western side, commencing at the termination of the road leading from Quebec in that direction, called the Grand Allée, where it forks into the Samos road and the Chemin Gomin at Spencer Wood. It is not known how long Bishop Dosquet occupied his estate.

"Soon after the cession of Canada to the British Crown, this property passed into the hands of Judge Mabane, [236] by purchase, from the reverend proprietors of the seigniory. Mr. Mabane changed the name to Woodfield, and made extensive alterations to the house, adding to it a second story, giving it by other additions a more imposing appearance from the river, and adding two pavillion wings, connected with the house by corridors. In 1775-6 it was converted into an hospital for American soldiers.

"About the year 1807, the late Honorable Matthew Bell purchased Woodfield from Miss Mabane, the Judge's sister. Mr. Bell occupied the house as a summer dwelling only, and it is not known that he improved the estate to any extent, unless it were the garden, which he enlarged and stocked with choice fruit trees. Previous to the purchase of Mr. Bell, Woodfield was occupied as a dwelling during several years (1795-1802) by Bishop Mountain, the first Protestant Bishop of Quebec. During his occupation he removed a bridge which spanned Bell Borne Brook, with the intention of cutting off communication with Powell Place (Spencer Wood), the neighboring estate, for reasons which it is not now necessary to enter into. The bridge was subsequently restored, by the sons of Sir R. S. Milnes, Governor General, and was known by the name of Pont Bonvoisin.

"In 1816 Woodfield passed into the possession of Mr. William Sheppard, by purchase, from Mr. Bell. Mr. Sheppard improved the house and grounds greatly, erecting vineries and a large conservatory, changing the front of the house so as to look upon a rising lawn of good extent, interspersed with venerable oaks and pine, giving the whole a striking and pleasing aspect. The alteration in the house gave it a very picturesque appearance, as viewed from the foot of the old avenue, backed by sombre pines Mr. Sheppard added to the estate about sixty acres of land on its southern side, it being now bounded by the road leading to St. Michael's Cove. During the alterations made in the house, a leaden foundation plate was discovered, stating that the house was built in 1732, by Bishop Dosquet. This plate was deposited for safe keeping in the Museum of the Literary and Historical Society, where (if still extant) it may be consulted.

"In December 1842, the house was unfortunately destroyed by fire, and with it a valuable library of some three thousand volumes, many of them costly illustrated works on Natural History and other sciences. Shortly afterwards a new house was built on a more desirable and commanding site, in the midst of splendid old oaks and pines, looking down upon an extensive lawn, with the St Lawrence in the middle distance, the view terminated by the South Shore, studded with cheerful-looking cottages. To suit the new site Mr. Sheppard laid out a new approach, placing the entrance somewhat nearer Quebec, than the old avenue, following the roundings of Belle Borne Brook, and leaving it with a striking sweep, among groups of trees, to the house. This approach is one of the greatest attractions of the place. He also built a large conservatory in connection with the house.

"Woodfield changed hands in 1847, having been purchased by Thos. Gibb, Esq., who exchanged it with his brother, Jas. Gibb, Esq., a wealthy merchant of Quebec, president of the Quebec Bank, who added much to the beauty of the estate. [237] Woodfield, with the improvements and embellishments made by the preceding proprietor is one of the most imposing and showy places in Canada, well worthy the encomiums passed upon it by J. Jay Smith, Esq., of Philadelphia, editor of the _Horticulturist_, who, with a party of friends, visited it in 1857. He says, in that work, 'James Gibb, Esq., at Woodfield, possesses one of the most charming places on the American continent. Thoroughly English in its appurtenances, and leaving out its views of the St. Lawrence, its lawns, trees, and superb garden are together, a model of what may be accomplished. The whole scene was enchanting. The traveller felt as if he was transported to the best parts of England, our whole party uniting in an exclamation of pleasure and gratification. Here is everything in the way of well-kept lawns, graperies and greenhouses, outhouses for every possible contingency of weather, gardens, redolent of the finest flowers, in which bulbs of the best lilies make a conspicuous figure, and every species of fruit that can be grown. The traveller who does not see Woodfield hah not seen Canada in its best trim.'

"The remains of one redoubt [238] are visible near Belle Borne Brook, just above Pont Bonvoisin, or Bridge of Friendship, no doubt intended to guard the approach to Quebec by the footpath from Pointe à Puiseaux. Another large one was on the west side of Samos road, nearly opposite the entrance gate of the new approach to Woodfield, it commanded the Samos road.

"Woodfield once could boast of a well-stocked aviary. The garden, of large extent, has always been celebrated for its fruit and flowers, for the taste in which it was laid out, and for the beautiful prospect obtained from it of the Citadel of Quebec, of the intervening portion of the St. Lawrence, with the numerous shipping in the harbour busily engaged in taking in their return cargoes of the staple article of exportation."

Since this sketch was published in the _Maple Leaves_ for 1865, death has borne heavily on the estimable Gibb family we then knew at Woodfield; and in 1879, Mr. John Lawson Gibb sold the old homestead as a site for an ornate rural cemetery.

"WOODFIELD CONSERVATORY--On 10th Feby, 1869 we availed ourselves of
the opportunity afforded to the public of visiting this celebrated
conservatory, and feasting our eyes on the immense mass of floral
treasures which it contains. Flora's rarest gifts from every quarter
of the globe are here in full bloom. The Indian Azaleas are
magnificent beyond description--the one near the entrance called
'Criterion" is exquisitely beautiful, Roi Leopold, purpurea and alba
are also very handsome. The Dielytra, or Bleeding Heart, is chaste and
beautiful the Joy plant (Chorozema) from the Swan River, struck us as
particularly interesting, the colours of the flower are so
harmoniously blended, the Golden-leaved Geranium (Cloth of Gold)--well
worthy the name, with intense scarlet flowers, is very pretty Numerous
Camelias of every shade and colour, these we think may well be called
the Queen of winter flowers rivalling in beauty the famous "rose." The
Cinerarias and Cape cowslips are very fine, and so are the Acacias
Many beautiful and interesting Ferns, the most remarkable being the
elks-horn, walking fern, hearts-tongue, maiden-hair and silver-
braken."--_Morning Chronicle._

_SOUS LES BOIS._

This country seat, two miles from the city limits, stands in view of Pointe à Puiseaux, at Sillery, exactly fronting the mouth of the Etchemin River Imagine a roomy, substantial, one story cottage equally well protected in winter against the piercing north, east and west winds, surrounded by large oaks and pines to temper the rays of an August sun, and through whose foliage the cool river breeze murmurs in the vernal season, wafting pleasure and health to the inmates Add one of those unrivalled river landscapes, peculiar to Sillery, well cultivated fruit gardens, pastures, meadows, and lawns intersected by a long curving avenue, fringed with single trees at times, at others tastefully concealed in a clump of evergreens, and leading to the house by a circuitous approach, which hides the mansion until you are a few feet of it Place in it a toiling professional man, eager, after a dusty summer day's work in St Peter street, to breathe the coolness and fragrance of his rustic homestead, and enjoy the presence of his household gods, again, add to it the conviction in his heart that country life has increased the span of his existence by twenty years, and you have a faint idea of one of our many Canadian homes, of _Sous les Bois_ the former residence of Errol Boyd Lindsay, Esq., one of the few remaining Quebecers who can recall the festivities of Powell Place, when Sir James Craig flourished there in 1809.

In 1870, _Sous les Bois_ was disposed of for educational purposes. The flourishing Jésus Marie Academy, with its shiny dome and lofty walls, looms out in the very centre of the demesne The Lindsay manor, at present, is the hospitable lodge of the devoted and talented almoner of the Convent, Rev. Abbé Octave Audette.

_SILLERY HOUSE._

This handsome dwelling, is situated at the foot of the Cape, close to the Jesuits' old house, on a line with the river: it stands in the centre of an extensive garden, with here and there some large forest trees interspersed.

The residence was built a few years back by the late John Sharples, Esquire, of the firm of Sharples & Co., whose vast timber coves are in view from Sillery house.

ST. MICHAEL'S CHURCH, SILLERY

"A rural chapel neatly dress'd,
In covert like a little nest;
And thither young and old repair
This Sabbath day, for praise and prayer."
--_The White Doe of Rylstone_.

St. Michael's Church was built by some spirited parishioners, in front of Mount Hermon Cemetery; a not inappropriate monument on their part to the memory of the ancient and worthy patron of the parish. St. Michael's Church was weekly honoured by the attendance of the Sovereign's representative and _suite_ when inhabiting Spencer Wood; and on fine summer days by the rank and fashion of the neighbouring metropolis. It is a handsome cut-stone church, in the Gothic style. The incumbent for many years has been the Rev. Anthony A. Von Iffland.

This neat Gothic structure was erected in 1854, at a cost of $12,400,
the proceeds of the munificent donations of several members of its
congregation and others. The ground on which it stands was presented,
as a gift, by Mrs. Jas. Morrin. Several handsome stained-glass
windows, representing scriptural scenes, have been recently added. We
read, amongst others, the following names on the list of subscribers
to the foundation of the chapel, parsonage and school-house:--

Sir Edmund Head Lord Monck The Lord Bishop Mountain
Colonel Rhodes Henry Lemesurier Denis Godley
Ed. Burstall Charles E. Levey Jos. B. Forsyth
Captain Retallack Captain Pemberton Colonel Boomer
J. Walker E. Jackson F. H. Andrews
Miss Mountain D. D. Young C. N. Montizambert
Miss Cochran Rev. A. Mountain Mrs. Carroll
F. Burroughs W. F. Wood Robert Hamilton
Wm. Petry Honorable W. Walker Mrs. J. Gibb
W. Price Michael Stevenson Major H. W. Campbell
T. K. Ramsay Mrs. Helmuth Okill Stuart
Lieut.-Colonel Mountain John Jordan
Miss Guerout Hon. Henry Black G. B. Symes & Co.
J. F. Taylor Mrs. Montizambert C. Coker
G. Alford Mrs. Forsyth H. S. Scott.
N. H. Bowen G. Hall Mrs. G. R. Mountain
Charles Hamilton J. K. Boswell James Gibb
Rich Tremain T. G. Penny J. H. Oakes
Miss Taylor W. Drum Mrs. Woodbury
Dr. Boswell W. Herring Miss George
Charles Wilson John Giles Charles O'Neill
Preston Copeman Thomas Nelson Society for the Promotion
Thomas Beckett Barthy W. Goff of Christian Knowledge

Through the aid and efforts of the late Charles E. Levey, Esq., of
Cataracoui, a handsome organ was subscribed for in England, and now
graces St. Michael's Chapel.

MOUNT HERMON

A SPOT DEAR TO QUEBECERS

Oh, Hermon! oft I wander o'er,
Thy silent records of the past,
In fancy, when the storm and roar
Of icy winter holds thee fast,
But, when the gentle spring-time tells
'Tis time to rove amid the flow'rs,
I love to walk amid thy dells,
And dream once more of happy hours.

All seems a dream! thy lovely slopes,
O'ershadowed with primeval trees,
Are rich with many blighted hopes,
And ceaseless tears, _He_ only sees
What broken hearts, and scatter'd homes,
And grief of mourners ne'er since met,
One pictures by these solemn tombs,
This scene of parting and regret!

Bless'd spot! though long, long years ago
That loving one was buried here,
My soul still ever seeks to know
When once again we shall be near!
A day ne'er pass'd in foreign climes,
At home, or on the restless sea,
But I have sought thee many times,
Oh, Hermon! ever dear to me.
S. B. F.

In this neighbourhood is situated Mount Hermon Cemetery. It is about three miles from Quebec, on the south side of the St. Lewis road, and slopes irregularly, but beautifully, down the cliff which overhangs the St. Lawrence. It is thirty two acres in extent, and the grounds were tastefully laid out by the late Major Douglas, U. S. Engineers, whose taste and skill had been previously shown in the design of Greenwood Cemetery, near New York. A carriage drive, upwards of two miles in extent, affords access to all parts of the grounds, and has been so arranged as to afford the most perfect view of the scenery. The visitor, after driving over the smooth lawn-like open surface, finds himself suddenly transferred by a turn of the road into a dark avenue of stately forest trees, from which he emerges to see the broad St. Lawrence almost beneath him, with the city of Quebec and the beautiful slopes of Point Levi in the distance.

Many beautiful monuments now adorn the grounds, some of which are from Montreal and some from Scotland; but the great majority are the productions of Mr. Felix Morgan, of Quebec, and do credit to his taste and skill. Many of them are beautiful and costly structures of Italian marble. The Aberdeen and Peterhead granite is much used at present for monuments to the departed.

A neat gothic lodge at the entrance of the grounds contains the office and residence of the superintendent. In the former, a complete plan of the grounds is kept, every separate grave being marked upon it with its appropriate number, so that at any future time, on consulting it, the exact spot of interment can be ascertained, and the Register which is also kept, affords information respecting the places of birth, age, and date of death.

There are few sites round Quebec more attractive to visit, especially during the month of September, than the last abode of the departed, crowning the green banks of the St. Lawrence at Sillery--the Cemetery of Mount Hermon. Apart from possessing some of the most picturesque scenery in America, this spot borrows from the glories of autumn tints of a fairy brightness. In providing for the repose of the dead, the citizens of all denominations seemed to have vied to surpass one another. Scarcely had the skilful designer, Major Douglas, U.S.E., completed the laying out of the Mount Hermon grounds, when a strong desire was manifested in all quarters to do away with _intra mural_ burials. In a very short time, the Roman Catholics had selected as a cemetery the lovely old seat of the late Mr. Justice P. Panet, on the banks of the St. Charles, whilst a few years later the shady groves of Belmont, on the Ste. Foye road, were required for a similar object. The ornamentation of a _necropolis_ must naturally be a work of time, trees do not spring up in one summer, nor do lawns clothe themselves with a soft, green velvety surface in one season, and if the flowers in Mount Hermon are so beautiful and so well attended to, the secret in a measure possibly rests with the landscape gardener located at the entrance, and who professes to furnish flowers for the adornment of cemetery lots, and to plant and keep them fresh during the summer. The St. Charles, St. Patrick and Belmont Cemeteries, which do not enjoy in the same measure these facilities, cannot be expected to possess all the rustic adornments of their elder brother. One may safely predict that ere many summers go by, our public cemeteries, by their natural beauty, are likely to attract crowds of strangers, as Greenwood and Mount Auburn do in the States. Chaste monumental marbles, on which can be detected the chisel of English, Scotch and Canadian artists, are at present noticeable all over the grounds, tastefully laid out and smiling _parterres_ of annuals and perennials throw a grateful fragrance over the tomb where sleeps mayhap a beloved parent, a kind sister, an affectionate brother, a true friend, a faithful lover. How forcibly all this was brought to our minds recently on strolling through the shady walks of Mount Hermon. Under the umbrageous trees, perfumed by roses and lilies, tombs, [239] silent, innumerable tombs on all sides, on marble, the names of friends, kindred, acquaintances, solemn stillness all round us, at our feet the placid course of our majestic flood. There were indeed many friends round us, though invisible, nay, on counting over the slumberers, we found we had more, though not dearer friends, in this abode of peace than within the walls of yonder city. Overpowered by mournful, though soothing thoughts, we walked along pondering over those truthful reflections of Washington Irving:--

"There is a voice from the tomb sweeter than song, there is a
recollection of the dead to which we turn ever from the charms of the
living Oh, the grave! the grave! It buries every error, covers every
defect, extinguishes every resentment. From its peaceful bosom spring
none but fond regrets and tender recollections. * * * The grave of
those we loved--what a place for meditation. There it is that we call
up in long review the whole history of virtue and gentleness, and the
thousand endearments lavished upon us almost unheeded in the daily
intercourse of intimacy; there it is that we dwell upon the
tenderness, the solemn, awful tenderness of the parting scene; the bed
of death with all its stifled grief; its noiseless attendants; its
mute, watchful assiduities; the last testimonies of expiring love; the
feeble, faltering, thrilling (oh, how thrilling!) pressure of the
hand; the last fond look of the glazing eye, turning upon us from the
threshold of existence; the faint, faltering accents struggling in
death to give once more assurance of affection! aye, go to the grave
of buried love and meditate! There settle the account with thy
conscience for every past benefit unrequited, every past endearment
unregarded of that being who can never, never, never return to be
soothed by thy contrition. If thou art a child and hast ever added a
sorrow to the soul, or a furrow to the silvered brow of an
affectionate parent; if thou art a husband and hast ever caused the
fond bosom that ventured its whole happiness in thy arms to doubt one
moment of thy kindness or thy truth; if thou art a friend and hast
ever wronged in thought, word or deed the spirit that generously
confided in thee; if thou art a lover and hast ever given one
unmerited pang to that true heart that now lies cold and still beneath
thy feet, then be sure that every unkind look, every ungracious word,
every ungentle action will come thronging back upon thy memory and
knocking dolefully at thy soul....

Then weave that chaplet of flowers and strew the beauties of nature
about the grave; console thy broken spirit if thou canst with these
tender, though futile, tributes of regret; but take warning over the
dead, and be more faithful and affectionate in the discharge of thy
duties to the living." Reader, allow not pensive September to close in
without visiting Mount Hermon, linger under its silent shades, go
partake of the joy of grief, and meditate at the grave of a buried
love.

"MONUMENT TO LIEUT. BAINES, R.A.--Few of our readers but recollect and
cherish the name of Lieut. Baines, who unfortunately lost his life
while gallantly endeavoring to arrest the progress of the
conflagration which destroyed the greater portion of St. Roch's
suburbs in October, 1866. His gallant devotion to duty, and his zeal
in one of the most praiseworthy and charitable objects that ever
engaged the attention of man, has caused his memory to be cherished
with love and respect by every one of our citizens. Last year the
ladies of the General Hospital sent a tribute of their gratitude to
his widowed mother in England, worked by their own hands. Now the
citizens of Quebec have completed their share of the grateful task. We
had the mournful pleasure yesterday of viewing one of the most chaste
and graceful monuments that adorn Mount Hermon Cemetery, erected by
public subscription, and placed over the grave of one whose memory is
so dearly cherished by all. The monument is of the Egyptian style of
architecture, an obelisk 18 feet in height, with a base of 4 feet 10
inches, designed and modelled by our talented fellow-citizen, Mr. F.
Morgan, sculptor, St. John street, so many of whose classic memorials
of the dead grace Mount Hermon. It is cut from a solid block of
imported sandstone, and in chasteness of design or execution is not
excelled on this continent. It bears the following inscription:--

Erected by the citizens of Quebec
To preserve the memory
and to record their gratitude for the
gallant services of
Lieut. Henry Edmund Baines,
Royal Artillery,
whose death was occasioned by his noble
efforts to arrest the progress
of the calamitous fire
which, on the 14th Oct., 1866
destroyed a large portion of the city.
Born at Shrewsbury, England, April 4, 1840
Died at Quebec Oct. 27, 1866

Surmounting the epitaph is the coat of arms of the Royal Artillery,
chiselled out of the solid block by the hands of a finished artist,
with the motto of the regiment in a scroll underneath--"_Quo fas et
gloria ducunt_' The erection of this, monument to the memory of the
brave but unfortunate young officer is a noble tribute of gratitude on
the part of our citizens, and in entrusting its execution to our
talented fellow-townsman, Mr. Morgan, the committee has shown a wise,
discretion that makes the completion of their task one upon which they
may heartily congratulate themselves.

A VOICE FROM MOUNT HERMON

DEDICATED TO MRS. BAINES, BY MRS. A. CAMPBELL

My dust lies sleeping here,
Mother dear!
In this, far off distant land,
Away from your little band,
And the touch of loving hand,
Your boy lies sleeping here,
Mother dear!

The Ocean rolls between
Mother dear!
You and your own boy's grave,
And the distant rush of waves
On the pebbly shore to lave,
Is the requiem sung between,
Mother dear!

Mine is a sweet green spot.
Mother dear!
And the song of the bird
Is ever heard
In the trees that gird
Us, in this quiet spot
Mother dear!

And echo answers here
Mother dear!
The tinkle of chapel bell,
And the murmur of its knell
And the mourners "_It is well_,'
Echo answers here,
Mother dear!

To picture my last home,
Mother dear!
I am laid me down to rest,
Where "Our Father" saw 'twas best,
In this quiet little nest,
For my last home,
Mother dear!

And my spirit is with Him,
Mother dear!
In the precious home above,
Where all is light and love,
There rests your own dear dove,
Now with Him,
Mother dear!

Through Jesus' blood I'm here,
Mother dear!
In this happy, heavenly land,
One of a glorious band,
Touched by His healing hand,
Through Jesus I am here,
Mother dear!

So dry that bitter tear,
Mother dear!
'Twill not be very long
Ere with Jesus you'll sing the song,
Sung by those who to Him belong,
And wipe that bitter tear--
Mother dear!

BARDFIELD

THE LATE BISHOP MOUNTAIN'S COUNTRY SEAT.

"Far from me and my friends be that frigid philosophy, which can make
us pass unmoved over any scenes which have been consecrated by virtue,
by valour, or by wisdom."--JOHNSON.