Chapter V: Modern Quebec (5)

Pleasant the memories of our rustic homes! 'Tis pleasant, after December's murky nights, or January and February's inexorable chills, to go and bask on the sunny banks of our great river, under the shade of trees, in the balmy spring, and amidst the gifts of a bountiful nature, to inhale fragrance and health and joy. Pleasant, also, to wander during September in our solemn woods, "with footsteps inaudible on the soft yellow floor, composed of the autumnal sheddings of countless years." Yes, soothing to us are these memories of home--of home amusements, home pleasures, and even of home sorrows. Sweeter still, even though tinged with melancholy, the remembrance of the departed friends,--those guardian spirits we once saw moving in some of our Canadian homes in the legitimate pride of hospitality--surrounded by young and loving hearts--enshrined in the respect of their fellow men.

Oft has it been our privilege at that festive season of our year, when a hallowed custom brings Canada's sons and daughters together with words of greeting and good-fellowship, to wend our way to Bardfield, high on the breezy hills of Sillery, and exchange a cordial welcome with the venerable man who had dwelt in our midst for many long years. Seldom has it been our lot to approach one who, as a scholar, a gentleman, a prelate, or what is more than all those titles put together, a truly good man, impressed himself more agreeably on our mind.

Another revolution of the circling year and the good pastor, the courteous gentleman, the learned divine, our literary [240] friend and neighbour, the master of Bardfield, had been snatched from among us and from an admiring public. Where is the Quebecer who has not noticed the neat cottage on the north of the St. Lewis road, where lived and died the Lord Bishop Mountain? As you pass, you see as formerly its lovely river view, gravelled walks, curving avenue, and turfy lawns, luxuriant hedges designed by a hand now cold in death. Bardfield continues to be occupied by Miss Mountain and other members of the late Bishop's family. A school house, in the rural Gothic style, quite an ornament to Sillery, has been erected by His Lordship's family, as a memorial of the sojourn at this spot of this true friend of suffering humanity and patron of education.

Bardfield, founded about forty years ago by an eminent merchant of Quebec, Peter Burnet, Esquire, was recently purchased by Albert Furness, Esquire and by him leased to Charles Earnest Levey, Esquire, until Kirke Ella, the property of Mr. Levy, is rebuilt.

THE FAMILY OF MOUNTAIN

The family of Mountain, which is a very old Norman family, and
therefore of French extraction, originally wrote their name "de
Montaigne," from the name of their estates at Périgord, near Bordeaux,
and as stated in the life of one of its members, the well-known
Michael Seigneur de Montaigne, the essayist and philosopher, "This
race was noble, but noble without any great lustre till his time,
which fortune showed him signal favours, and, together with honorary
and titular distinctions, procured for him the collar of the Order of
St. Michael, which at that time was the utmost mark of honour of the
French _noblesse_, and very rare. He was twice elected mayor of
Bordeaux, his father, a man of great honour and equity, having
formerly also had the same dignity."

Michael left only a daughter--Leonor or Leonora, who by marrying a
distant cousin of the same name, preserved the estates in the family,
as they had been for more than a century before they were inherited by
her father. These remained in possession of the senior branch until
the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, when, having espoused the
Protestant cause, they were forced to sacrifice them and quit the
country in 1685, with what ready money they could hastily get
together. With this they purchased an estate in Norwich, England; from
which in after generations several of the family went out to Canada,
and among them the late Bishop of Quebec.

To him, likewise I have heard attributed the irreverent piece of wit
alluded to by the _Witness_; but with equal injustice, as his son, the
late Bishop of Quebec assured me. [241]

It is one of those sayings evidently made up for people whose names or
position suit for hanging them on.

George Mountain, D.D., Archbishop of York, was a contemporary of
Michael de Montaigne, and a scion of the same family, though through a
younger branch, which appears to have crossed over from France about
the time of the massacre of St. Bartholomew in the reign of Queen
Elizabeth, and for the same reason that the elder branch did
afterwards, namely, because of their religious tenets.

It is not by any means improbable that by this separation from the
rest of his family, who were still adherents of the Roman Catholic
faith, and the consequent abandonment of worldly prospects for the
sake of religious principles, the Archbishop's progenitors may have
been reduced in circumstances, but only comparatively with what he had
lost before, for history shows that the Archbishop himself was, born
at Callwood Castle, educated at Queen's College, Cambridge, chosen a
Fellow in 1591, and Junior Proctor of that University in 1600, Dean of
Westminster in 1610, Bishop of Lincoln in 1617, Bishop of London in
1621, Bishop of Durham in 1627, and Archbishop of York in 1628.

JACOB J. C. MOUNTAIN,

Formerly of Coteau de Lac, Canada, now Vicar of Bulford, England.
BULFORD VICARAGE, Amesbury, Salisbury, May 30, 1877.

BENMORE.

We like to portray to ourselves our energetic neighbour of Benmore House, such as we can recall him in his palmy, sporting days of 1865; we shall quote from the _Maple Leaves_ of that year:

"It will not be one of the least glories of 'Our Parish,' even when the Province will have expanded into an empire, with Sillery as the seat of Vice Royalty, to be able to boast of possessing the Canadian, the adopted home of a British officer of wealth and intelligence, known to the sporting world as the Great Northern Hunter. Who had not heard of the _battues_ of Col. Rhodes on the snow-clad peaks of Cap Tourment, on the Western Prairies, and all along the Laurentian chain of mountains? One man alone through the boundless territory extending from Quebec to the North Pole, can dispute the belt with the Sillery Nimrod, but then, a mighty hunter is he; by name in the St. Joachim settlement, Olivier Cauchon, to Canadian sportsmen known as _Le Roi des Bois_. It is said, but we cannot vouch for the fact--that Cauchon, in order to acquire the scent, swiftness and sagacity of the cariboo, has lived on cariboo milk, with an infusion of moss and bark, ever since his babyhood, but that this very winter (1865) he killed, with slugs, four cariboo at one shot, we can vouch for.

A few weeks since, a _habitant_ with a loaded sleigh passed our gate; on the top of his load was visible a noble pair of antlers. "Qui a tué-- ces cariboo?" we asked. Honest John Baptiste replied, "Le Colonel Rhodes, Monsieur." Then followed a second--then a third. Same question asked, to which for reply--"Le Colonel Rhodes, Monsieur." Then another sleigh load of cariboo, in all twelve Cariboo, two sleighs of hare, grouse and ptarmigan, then a man carrying a dead _carcajou_, then in the distance, the soldier-like phiz of the Nimrod himself, nimbly following on foot the cavalcade. This was too much, we stopped and threatened the Colonel to apply to Parliament for an Act to protect the game of Canada against his unerring rifle. Were we not fully aware of the gratifying fact, that, under recent legislative enactment, the fish and game of Canada have much increased, we might be inclined to fancy that the Colonel will never rest until he has bagged the last moose, the last cariboo in the country.

Benmore nestles cosily in a pine grove on the banks of the great river, the type of an English Country gentleman's homestead. In front of the house, a spacious piazza, from which you can watch the river craft; in the vast surrounding meadows, a goodly array of fat Durhams and Ayrshires, in the farm-yard, short-legged Berkshires squeaking merrily in the distance, rosy-cheeked English boys romping on the lawn, surrounded by pointers and setters: such, the grateful sights which, greeted our eyes one lovely June morning round Benmore House, the residence of the President of the Quebec Game Club, and late member of Parliament for Megantic." (Written in 1865.)

IMPORTATION OF BIRDS.

Sixteen years have elapsed since these lines were penned, and the Colonel has devoted much time, spent a large amount of capital on his vegetable farm and his green houses. Agriculturalists and naturalists will know him as the introducer of the English sparrow and the Messina quail.

_THE SPARROW AND QUAIL._

Information for Mr. Lemoine on the importation of the European house
sparrow and on that of the migratory quail. In consequence of great
complaints all over the United States of the ravages of insects and
particularly of caterpillars, amongst street and park trees and their
visible destruction, it was generally recommended to girdle the trees
with tin troughs containing oil or some liquid, also to pick the
insects off the infected trees. This course had been followed to a
very considerable extent, when it struck me the importation of the
common house sparrow would meet the difficulty. In 1854 I imported
sparrows. I turned loose six birds at Portland, Maine, and brought
about as many more to Quebec.

On turning the birds loose at Portland, I wrote a letter to the
_Portland Advertiser_, recommending the English sparrow as an
insect destroyer, especially in the early spring months when the
native birds are away on their migrations. This idea of picking off
insects with birds commended itself to the municipal authorities of
Boston and other large cities, who made large importations of
sparrows, with the result of saving their ornamental trees from
destruction.

The first colony of sparrows failed at Quebec. I therefore made two
more importations, succeeding at last by wintering over thirteen birds
--This occurred about ten years ago, there are now house sparrows all
over Canada, our French Canadians say "_C'est un oiseau qui suit la
Religion_" frequenting churches, convents and sacred places, and it
is considered a privilege to have so good a bird about the house. The
sparrow lives readily in Canada, as it feeds on the droppings of the
horse and takes shelter down the chimneys or under the roofs of the
houses. The enemies of the sparrow are very numerous, notably the
great Northern Shrike, the owls, hawks and in summer the swifts and
swallows. I have seen the English sparrow from New York to St.
Francisco, and from the Saguenay to Florida. In some places the bird
is used as an article of food, and there is no doubt this will be the
case generally; it will also become an object of sport for young
shooters and trappers in America, the same as it has always been in
Europe.

THE QUAIL.

I imported this bird in 1880, turning loose over 100 birds between
Quebec and the river Saguenay, I cannot say what has been the result;
the French population have taken much interest in this importation,
because they understand it is a bird well known in France as La
Caille, and I have no doubt it will become quite numerous in our
French settlements wherever it is established.

Large numbers of migratory quail have been imported for the State of
Maine, 2,500 birds were turned loose in 1880, in all about 10,000
quails have been imported for the United States and Canada during the
last few years, and as no importations are being made this year we
shall see what the migratory instinct does for the North in the spring
of the year?

It is very certain the migratory quail leave for parts unknown at an
early period in the autumn, but where they go to and whether they
return to the north has not been established; whilst they are with us,
they are very friendly, frequently mixing with the chickens in the
back yards. It is not improbable the feeling which gives hospitality
to the house sparrow will extend itself to the Farmer's Quail, and
that the latter bird may receive the same treatment from the settler
as he gives to ordinary domestic fowl, such as Pigeons, Guinea fowl,
and so on.--_W. Rhodes_.

BENMORE, 4th February, 1881.

N.B.--The house sparrow has indeed multiplied amazingly and though an
emigrant and not "un enfant du sol" has found a hearty welcome. 'Tis
said that he scares away our singing birds, if he should thus
interfere with the freedom of action of the _natives_, he will get the
cold shoulder, even though he should be an _emigrant_.

The sparrow though a long suffering bird is neither meek nor
uncomplaining. A "limb of the law" is, we are told, responsible for
the following:

_A HUMBLE APPEAL._

(_To the Editor of the Morning Chronicle_.)

DEAR SIR,--Oft, doubtless, passing through the Ring,
Me you have seen in autumn, summer, spring--
Picking, with gleesome chirp, and nimble feet,
My scanty living from the public street;
Or else devouring in those golden hours,
Insects from cabbages and other flowers:--
Ah me! those happy days!--but they are past,
And winter with his harsh and biting blast
Remind me and my fellow-sparrows bold
Of coming snow-storms, ice and sleet and cold;
Reminds us, too, of those far-off abodes,
Whence we were rudely reft by Col. R----s,
On his acclimatizing purpose bent,
And moved by scientific sentiment,
My heart is anxious, Sir, from what I know
Of last years sufferings from cold and snow,
Another winter's hardships, will, I fear,
Cause us poor colonists to disappear.
What shall we do, Dear Sir?--how shall we live,
Unless our charitable townsmen give
Us aid in food and shelter, otherwise
Each of us young and old, and male and female, dies!
Could we not make our _friend_ our _Garnishee_,
And seize his chattels by a _tiers saisi_?
(I tell him, Sir, that living mid the frosts
Is harder far than paying _lawyers' costs_)
Or do you think, (I write in great anxiety,)
We have a claim on the St. George Society?
We are compatriots--an exiled band,
From the fair pickings of our native land,
Cast on this frigid shore by savage Fate,
With mouths to fill, and bills to liquidate.
Dear Sir, I leave our case now with you, pray
To make it public do not long delay,
But give it, (I don't mean to be ironical,)
A prominent position in the CHRONICLE.
My wife and children cry to me for corn
With feeble earnestness and chirp forlorn,
My eye is dim, my heart within me pines,
My claws so numb I scarce can scratch two lines,
My head--no more will I your feelings harrow,
But sign me,
Truly yours,
Till death,
All Souls' Day. COCKSPARROW.

_CLAREMONT._

THE SEAT OF THOMAS BECKETT, ESQUIRE.

"A house amid the quiet country's shades,
With length'ning vistas, ever sunny glades,
Beauty and fragrance clustering o'er the wall.
A porch inviting, and an ample hall."

Claremont was founded by Lieut.-Governor R. E. Caron, and was his family mansion--ever since he left Spencer Grange which he had temporally leased,--until he was named Lt.-Governor of the Province of Quebec. We find in it, combined the taste and comfort which presides in Canadian homes; and in the fortunes of its founder, an illustration of the fact, that under the sway of Britain, the road to the highest honours has ever been open to colonists, irrespective of creed or nationality.

Claremont stands about one acre from the main road, three miles from Quebec, a handsome, comfortable and substantial villa. The umbrageous grove of trees which encloses it from view, is a plantation laid down by the late occupant about twenty-five years ago; its growth has been truly wonderful. The view from the veranda and rear of the house is magnificent in the extreme. To the west of the dwelling, environed in forest trees well protected against our northern "blizzards," lies the fruit, flower and vegetable garden, laid out originally by Madame Caron; watered by an unfailing spring, its dark rich soil produces most luxuriant vegetables, and Mr. Beckett's phlox, lilies, pansies, roses, generally stand well represented on the prize list of the Quebec Horticultural Society, of which Mr. Beckett is a most active member.

Claremont [242] is indicated by one of the most reliable of our historians, the Abbé Ferland, as the spot where one of the first Sillery missionaries, Frère Liégeois met with his end at the hands of some hostile Indians. This occurred in the spring of 1655. The missionary at the time was helping the colonists to build a small redoubt to protect their maize and wheat fields from the inroads of their enemies. On viewing, at Sillery, in 1881, Claremont the luxurious country seat of a successful merchant, memory reverts to the same locality two centuries back, when every tree of the locality might have concealed a ferocious _Iroquois_ bent on his errand of death.

From the cupola of Claremont, a wondrous vista is revealed. The eye gazing northward, rests on the nodding pinnacles of the spruce, hemlock and surrounding pine. Towards the south-east and west you have before you nearly every object calculated to add effect to the landscape. Far below at your feet, rushes on the mighty St. Lawrence, with its fleet of merchantmen and rafts of timber; the church of St. Romuald, half way up the hill; facing you, the Etchemin stream, its mills, its piers, crowded with deals; to the west, the roaring Chaudière, "La Rivière Bruyante" of early times, in the remote distance, on a bright morning, are also plainly visible, the hills of the White Mountains of Maine.

_THE WILD FLOWERS OF SILLERY._

"Everywhere about us are they glowing,
Some like stars, to tell us spring is born;
Others, their blue eyes, with tears o'erflowing,
Stand like Ruth amid the golden corn."

Are you an admirer of nature, and sweet flowers? Would you, most worthy friend, like to see some of the bright gems which spring, whilst dallying over the sequestered, airy heights and swampy marshes of our woods drops along our path? Follow, then, sketch book and pencil in hand, the fairy footsteps of one of the most amiable women which old England ever sent to our climes, accompany the Countess of Dalhousie on a botanizing tour through Sillery woods; you have her note book, if not herself, to go by. For May, see what an ample store of bright flowers scattered around you; fear not to lose yourself in thickets and underbrush; far from the beaten track a noble lady has ransacked the environs over and over again, sometimes alone, sometimes with an equally enthusiastic and intelligent friend, who hailed from Woodfield; [243] sweet flowers and beautiful ferns attract other noble ladies to this day in that wood. Are you anxious to possess the first-born of spring? Whilst virgin snow still whitens the fields, send a young friend to pluck for you, from the willow, its golden catkins:--

"The first gilt thing
Decked with the earliest pearls of spring."

The Gomin Wood will, with the dawn of May, afford you materials for a wreath, rich in perfume and wild in beauty. The quantity of wild flowers, to be found in the environs of Quebec has called forth the following remarks from one of Flora's most fervid votaries, a gentleman well known in this locality:--"A stranger," says he, "landing in this country, is much surprised to find the flowers which he has carefully cultivated in his garden at home, growing wild at his feet. Such as dog-tooth violets, trilliums and columbines. I was much excited when I discovered them for the first time; the _trillium_, for which I had paid three shillings and six-pence when in England, positively growing wild. I could scarcely believe that I had a right to gather them; having paid so much for one, I felt that it was property, valuable property running wild, and no one caring to gather it. No one? Yes! some did, for _we_ carried all that we could find, and if the reader will stroll along the hedges on St. Lewis road he will find them in abundance: dark purple flowers, growing on a stalk naked to near the summit, where there is a whorl of three leaves, its sepals are three, petals three, stamens twice three, and its stigmas three, hence its name of _trillium_. We have a few of the white varieties. After the purple _trillium_ has done flowering, we have the painted trillium of the woods; the _trillium grandiflorum_ is abundant at Grosse Isle. The dog-tooth violet early arrested my attention; the spotted leaves and the bright yellow flowers, fully recurved in the bright sunshine, contrasted beautifully with the fresh green grass on the banks on which they are usually found, the bulbs are deep-seated, and the plant will at once, from the general appearance of the flower, be recognized as belonging to the lily family.

"The marsh marigolds, with the bright yellow buttercup-looking flowers, are now in full luxuriance of bloom in wet places near running water; they may not be esteemed beautiful by all, and yet all God's works, and all his flowers, are good and beautiful. Let any one see them as I have seen them, a large flowerbed of an acre and more, one mass of the brightest yellow, a crystal stream meandering through their midst, the beautiful Falls of Montmorenci across the river rolling their deep strains of Nature's music, the rising tide of the St. Lawrence beating with refreshing waves at their feet, and a cloudless azure sky over head, from which the rosy tints of early morn had hardly disappeared, and if his soul be not ready to overflow with gratitude to the Supreme Being who has made everything so beautiful and good, I do not know what to think of him. I would not be such a man, 'I'd rather be a dog and bay the moon.'"

The whole Gomin bog is studded with Smilacina _Bifolia_, sometimes erroneously called _the white lily of the valley_, also the Smilacina _Trifolia_, the _Dentaria_, the _Streptopus roseus_ or twisted stem, a rose-colored flower, bearing red berries in the fall. There are also in this wood, _trillium_, the May flower, _Hepatica_, and _Symplocarpus_, thickets crowned with _Rhodoras_ in full bloom--a bush a few feet high with superb rose-colored flowers--the general appearance of a cluster of bushes is most magnificent. In the same locality, further in the swamp, may be found the _Kalmia angustifolia_ bearing very pretty compact rose- colored flowers like small cups divided into five lobes, also the beautiful Ladies' Slipper Orchis (_Cypripedum humile_) in thousands on the borders of the swamp,--such is Sillery wood in May. The crowded flora of June is the very carnival of nature, in our climes. "Our Parish" is no exception. The Ladies' Slippers, _Kalmia Smilacina_, etc., may still be gathered in the greatest abundance throughout most of this month. Here is also the bunch of Pigeon berry, in full bloom, the Brooklime Spedwell, the Blue-eyed-grass, the herb Bennet, the Labrador Tea, the _Oxalis Stricta_ and _Oxalis acetosella_, one with yellow, the other with white and purple flowers: the first grows in ploughed fields, the second in the woods. "Our sensitive plant; they shut up their leaves and go to sleep at night, and on the approach of rain. These plants are used in Europe to give an acid flavor to soup." Here also flourishes the Linnea Borealis, roseate bells, hanging like twins from one stalk, downy and aromatic all round. In the middle of June, the Ragwort, a composite flower with yellow heads, and about one-half to two feet high, abounds in wet places by the side of running streams. Also, the Anemone, so famous in English song, principally represented by the Anemone Pennsylvanica, growing on wet banks, bearing large white flowers; add the Corydalis, _Smilacina racemosa_ resembling Solomon's Seal. Here we light on a lovely Tulip bed; no--'tis that strangely beautiful flower, the pitcher plant (_Saracenia Purpurea_). Next we hit on a flower not to be forgotten, the _Myosotis palustris_ or Forget-me-not. Cast a glance as you hurry onwards on the _Oenothera pumila_, a kind of evening primrose, on the false Hellebore--the one-sided Pyrola, the Bladder Campion--_silene inflata_, the sweet-scented yellow Mellilot, the white Yarran, the Prunella with blue labrate flowers the Yellow Rattle, so called from the rattling of the seeds. The perforated St. John's Wort is now coming into flower everywhere, and will continue until late in August; it is an upright plant, from one to two feet high, with clusters of yellow flowers. The Germans have a custom for maidens to gather this herb on the eve of St. John, and from its withering or retaining its freshness to draw an augury of death or marriage in the coming year. This is well told in the following lines:--

"The young maid stole through the cottage door,
And blushed as she sought the plant of power;
Then silver glow-worm, O lend me thy light,
I must gather the mystic St. John's Wort to-night,
The wonderful herb whose leaf must decide
If the coming year shall make me a bride.
And the glow-worm came
With its silvery flame,
And sparkled and shone
Through the night of St. John;
While it shone on the plant as it bloomed in its pride,
And soon has the young maid her love-knot tied.
With noiseless tread
To her chamber she sped,
Where the spectral moon her white beams shed.

"Bloom here, bloom here, thou plant of power,
To deck the young bride in her bridal hour;
But it dropped its head, the plant of power,
And died the mute death of the voiceless flower
And a withered wreath on the ground it lay,
And when a year had passed away,
All pale on her bier the young maid lay;
And the glow-worm came,
With its silvery flame,
And sparkled and shone
Through the night of St. John;
And they closed the cold grave o'er the maid's cold clay,
On the day that was meant for her bridal day."

Let us see what flowers sultry July has in store for us in her bountiful cornucopia. "In July," says a fervent lover of nature, "bogs and swamps are glorious indeed," so look out for Calopogons, Pogonias, rose-colored and white and purple-fringed Orchises, Ferns, some thirty varieties, of exquisite texture,

"In the cool and quiet nooks,
By the side of running brooks;
In the forest's green retreat,
With the branches overhead,
Nestling at the old trees' feet,
Choose we there our mossy bed.

On tall cliffs that won the breeze,
Where no human footstep presses,
And no eye our beauty sees,
There we wave our maiden tresses,"

the Willow-herb, the true Partridge-berry, the Chimaphila, Yellow Lily, Mullein, Ghost Flower, Indian Pipe, Lysimacha Stricta, Wild Chamomile. August will bring forth a variety of other plants, amongst others the Spirantes, or Ladies' Tresses, a very sweet-scented Orchis, with white flowers placed as a spiral round the flower stalk, the purple Eupatorium, the Snake's head, and crowds of most beautiful wild flowers, too numerous to be named here. [244] (From _Maple Leaves_, 1865).

_BEAUVOIR._

"The merchant has his snug retreat in the vicinity of the metropolis,
where he often displays as much pride and zeal in the cultivation of
his flower garden, and the maturing of his fruits, as he does in the
conduct of his business, and the success of a commercial enterprise."
--_Rural Life in England--Washington Irving_.

Situated on the left bank of the River St. Lawrence, about four miles from the city, on the Sillery heights, and overlooking the river. The site was selected about half a century back by the late Hon. A. N. Cochrane, who acquired the property in September, 1830, and after holding it for nineteen years sold it to the Hon. John Stewart, who built the residence, which was occupied for a number of years by the late Henry LeMesurier, Esq., and was finally destroyed by fire in 1866. It was subsequently rebuilt, and afterwards purchased by the present occupant R. R. Dobell, Esq., who has since added considerably to the building and extended the property by the addition of about twelve acres purchased from the Graddon estate, and about the same quantity purchased from Mr. McHugh, the whole now comprising about thirty-five acres. The grounds are beautifully wooded and descend by a series of natural terraces to the river, on the banks of which are the extensive timber coves and wharves known as Sillery Cove, with the workmen's cottages, offices, &c., fringing the side. There is also telegraphic communication between this cove and the city. Here too is the site of the ancient church of the Récollet Fathers, within the precincts of which lie buried the remains of Rev. Ed. Massé, one of the earliest missionaries sent from France to Canada by the Jesuits, the expense of the mission was chiefly borne by the Chevalier Brulart de Sillery. Here also is the old MANSION HOUSE, and a little higher up the cliff is the ancient burial ground of the Huron Indians, where the remains of many of this tribe can still be found. The property is bounded on the west by the historical stream of St. Michaels brook, so often mentioned in the narratives of the siege of Quebec in 1759. This stream used to be well stocked with trout, and promises to regain its former character in this respect, as the present proprietor intends to re-stock it.

Mr. Dobell has collected here some very fine specimens of Canadian Game, which the art of the taxidermist has rendered very life-like. His oil paintings are deserving of notice and attracted attention at a recent exhibition of art, &c., at the Morrin College, they appear in the printed catalogue as follows:--

A Scene in Wales, (Morning).............. by Marcham.
A Scene in Wales, (Evening).............. "
Reading the Bible, ...................... "
Our Saviour,--an old painting on copper..
Dead Canary,............................. S. M. Martin.
Fox and Ducks,........................... "
Prairie Hen,............................. "
View of Quebec,.......................... Creswell.
Egyptian Interior,....................... Kornan.
Dead Game,............................... "
Two Oil Paintings,....................... after Guido Reni.
Girl and Birdcage,--a Dutch painting.....
Prisoners,............................... by Jacobi.
Flower Piece,............................ Victor
Pandora and Casket,--old painting........

The chief charm of Beauvoir is in its beautiful level lawn and deep overhanging woods, recalling vividly to mind the many beautiful homes of merry England. Mr. Dobell the proprietor is largely engaged in mercantile operations, and for many years past has carried on the most extensive business in the lumber trade.

In 1865 we alluded as follows to this bright Canadian Home, which the shadow of death was soon to darken:

"Crowning a sloping lawn, intersected by a small stream, and facing the Etchemin Mills, you notice on the south side of the St. Lewis road, next to Clermont, a neat dwelling hid amongst huge pines and other forest trees; that is one of our oldest English country seats. Family memories of three generations consecrate the spot. Would you like a glimpse of domestic life as enjoyed at Sillery? then follow that bevy of noisy, rosy- cheeked boys in Lennoxville caps, with gun and rod in hand, hurrying down those steep, narrow steps leading from the bank to the Cove below. How they scamper along, eager to walk the deck of that trim little craft, the _Falcon_, anchored in the stream, and sitting like a bird on the bosom of the famed river. Wait a minute and you will see the mainsail flutter in the breeze. Now our rollicking young friends have marched past ruins of "chapel, convent, hospital," &c., on the beach; you surely did not expect them to look glum and melancholy. Of course they knew all about "Monsieur Puiseaux," "le Chevalier de Sillery," "the house where dwelt Emily Montague"; but do not, if you have any respect for that thrice happy age, the halcyon days of jackets and frills, befog their brains with the musty records of departed years. Let the lads enjoy their summer vacation, radiant, happy, heedless of the future. Alas! it may yet overtake them soon enough! What care could contract their brow? Have they not fed for the day their rabbits, their pigeons, their guinea-pigs? Is not that faithful Newfoundland dog "Boatswain," who saved from drowning one of their school-mates, is he not as usual their companion on ship-board or ashore? There, now, they drop down the stream for a long day's cruise round the Island of Orleans. Next week, peradventure, you may hear of the _Falcon_ and its jolly crew having sailed for Portneuf, Murray Bay, the Saguenay or Bersimis, to throw a cast for salmon, sea-trout or mackerel, in some sequestered pool or sheltered bay.

"There we'll drop our lines, and gather
Old Ocean's treasures in."

Are they not glorious, handsome, manly fellows, our Sillery boys? No wonder we are all proud of them, of the twins as much as the rest, and more so perhaps. "Our Parish" you must know, is renowned for the proportion in which it contributes to the census: twins--a common occurrence; occasionally, triplets.

Such we knew this Canadian home in the days of the late Henry Lemesurier.

_MONTAGUE COTTAGE._

"I knew by the smoke which so gracefully curled,
Above the green wood that a cottage was near."
--_Moore's Woodpecker._

Facing Sillery hill, on the north side of "Sans Bruit," formerly the estate of Lieut.-Col. the Hon. Henry Caldwell, Mr. Alfred P. Wheeler, [245] the Tide Surveyor of H. M. Customs, Quebec, built in 1880, a comfortable and pleasing little cottage. He has called it Montague Cottage [246] in memory of Wolfe's brave assistant Quarter Master General Col. Caldwell, of Sans Bruit, the Col. Rivers of "The Novel and the preferred suitor of Emily Montague who addressed her romantic 'Sillery letters to Col. Rivers from a house not far from the Hill of Sillery.

It is stated in all the old Quebec Guide Books that the house in which the 'divine Emily then dwelt stood on the foot of Sillery Hill, close to Mrs. Graddon's property at Kilmarnock, her friend Bella Fermor probably lived near her. Vol. I of the Work, page 61, states; "I am at present at an extremely pretty farm on the banks of the River St. Lawrence, the house stands as the foot of a steep mountain covered with a variety of trees forming a verdant sloping wall, which rises in a kind of regular confusion, shade above shade a woody theatre, and has in front this noble river, on which ships continually passing present to the delighted eye the most charming picture imaginable. I never saw a place so formed to inspire that pleasing lassitude, that divine inclination to saunter, which may not improperly be called the luxurious indolence of the country. I intend to build a temple here to the charming goddess of laziness. A gentleman is coming down the winding path on the side of the hill, whom by his air I take to be your brother. Adieu. I must receive him, my father is in Quebec. Yours,

ARABELLA FERMOR.

_THE HISTORY OF EMILY MONTAGUE._

On the 22nd March 1769, a novelist of some standing Mrs. Frances
Brooks an officer's lady, [247] author of _Lady Julia Mandeville_
published in London a work in four volumes, which she dedicated to His
Excellency the Governor of Canada, Guy Carleton afterwards Lord
Dorchester, under the title of the _History of Emily Montague_ being a
series of letters addressed from Sillery by Emily Montague the heroine
of the tale, to her lively and witty friend Bella Fermor--to some
military admirers in Quebec, Montreal, and New York--to some British
noblemen, friends of her father.

This novel, whether it was through the writer's _entourage_ in
the world or her _entrée_ to fashionable circles, or whether on
account of its own intrinsic literary worth, had an immense success in
its day. The racy description it contains of Canadian scenery, and
colonial life, mixed with the fashionable gossip of our Belgravians of
1766, seven years after the conquest, caused several English families
to emigrate to Canada. Some settled in the neighborhood of Quebec, at
Sillery, it is said. Whether they found all things _couleur-de-
rose_, as the clever Mrs. Brooke had described them,--whether they
enjoyed as much Arcadian bliss as the Letters of _Emily Montague_
had promised--it would be very ungallant for us to gainsay, seeing
that Mrs. Brooke is not present to vindicate herself. As to the
literary merit of the novel, this much we will venture to assert, that
setting aside the charm of association, we doubt that _Emily
Montague_ if republished at present, would make the fortune of her
publisher. Novel writing, like other things, has considerably changed
since 1766, and however much the florid Richardson style may have
pleased the great grandfathers of the present generation, it would
scarcely chime in with the taste of readers in our sensational times.
In Mrs. Brooke's day Quebecers appear to have amused themselves pretty
much as they do now, a century later. In the summer, riding, driving
boating, pic-nics at Lake St. Charles, the Falls of Montmorenci, &c.
In winter tandems, sleigh drives, toboganing at the ice cone, tomycod
fishing on the St. Charles, Château balls; the formation of a
_pont_ or ice-bridge and its breaking up in the spring--two events of
paramount importance. The military, later on, the promoters of
conviviality, sport and social amusements; in return obtaining the
_entrée_ to the houses of the chief citizens; toying with every
English rosebud or Gallic-lily, which might strew their path in spite
of paternal and maternal admonitions from the other side of the
Atlantic; occasionally leading to the hymeneal altar a Canadian bride,
and next introducing her to their horror-stricken London relatives,
astounded to find out that our Canadian belles, were neither the
colour of copper, nor of ebony; in education and accomplishments,
their equals--sometimes their superiors when class is compared to
class. Would you like a few extracts from this curious old Sillery
novel? Bella Fermor, one of Emily Montague's familiars, and a most
ingrained _coquette_, thus writes from Sillery in favour of a
military protégé on the 16th September, 1766, to the "divine" Emily,
who had just been packed oft to Montreal to recover from a love fit.
"Sir George is handsome as an Adonis ... you allow him to be of an
amiable character; he is rich, young, well-born, and he loves you..."

All in vain thus to plead Sir. George's cause, a dashing Col. Rivers
(meant, we were told, by the Hon. W. Sheppard, to personify Col. Henry
Caldwell, of Belmont) had won the heart of Emily, who preferred true
love to a coronet. Let us treasure up a few more sentences fallen from
Emily's light-hearted confidante. A postscript to a letter runs thus--
"Adieu, Emily, I am going to ramble in the woods and pick berries with
a little smiling civil captain [we can just fancy we see some of our
fair acquaintances' mouths water at such a prospect], who is enamoured
of me. A pretty rural amusement for lovers." Decidedly; all this in
the romantic woodlands of Sillery, a sad place it must be confessed,
when even boarding school misses, were they to ramble thus, could
scarcely escape contracting the _scarlet_ fever. Here goes another
extract:--

(BELLA FERMOR TO MISS RIVERS. LONDON)

"Sillery, Sept. 20th, (1766)--10 o'clock.

"Ah! we are vastly to be pitied; no beaux at all at the general's,
only about six to one; a pretty proportion, and what I hope always to
see. We--the ladies I mean--drink chocolate with the general to-
morrow, and he gives us a ball on Thursday; you would not know Quebec
again. Nothing but smiling faces now: all gay as never was--the
sweetest country in the world. Never expect to see me in England
again; one is really somebody here. I have been asked to dance by only
twenty-seven. ..."

Ah! who would not forgive the frolicsome Bella all her flirtations?
But before we dismiss this pleasant record of other days, yet another
extract, and we have done.

(BELLA FERMOR TO LUCY RIVERS)

"Sillery--Eight in the evening.

"Absolutely, Lucy, I will marry a savage and turn squaw (a pretty soft
name for an Indian Princess!) Never was anything so delightful as
their lives. They talk of French husbands, but commend me to an Indian
one, who lets his wife ramble five hundred miles without asking where
she is going.

"I was sitting after dinner, with a book, in a thicket of hawthorn
near the beach, when a loud laugh called my attention to the river,
when I saw a canoe of savages making to the shore. There were six
women and two or three children, without one man amongst them. They
landed and tied the canoe to the root of a tree, and finding out the
most agreeable shady spot amongst the bushes with which the beach was
covered, (which happened to be very near me) made a fire, on which
they laid some fish to broil, and fetching water from the river, sat
down on the grass to their frugal repast. I stole softly to the house,
and ordering a servant to bring some wine and cold provisions,
returned to my squaws. I asked them in French if they were of Lorette,
they shook their heads--I repeated the question in English, when the
eldest of the women told me they were not, that their country was on
the borders of New England, that their husbands being on a hunting
party in the woods, curiosity and the desire to see their brethren,
the English, who had conquered Quebec, had brought them up the great
river, down which they should return as soon as they had seen
Montreal. She courteously asked me to sit down and eat with them,
which I complied with and produced my part of the feast. We soon
became good company, and brightened the chain of friendship with two
bottles of wine, which put them in such spirits that they danced,
sung, shook me by the hand, and grew so fond of me that I began to be
afraid I should not easily get rid of them.

"Adieu! my father is just come in and has brought some company with
him from Quebec to supper.

"Yours ever,

"A. FERMOR."

KIRK ELLA

"This villa, erected in 1850 on the north side of the St. Lewis road, facing Cataracoui, affords a striking exemplification of how soon taste and capital can transform a wilderness into a habitation combining every appliance of modern refinement and rustic adornment. It covers about eighty-two acres, two thirds of which are green meadows, wheat fields, &c., the remainder, plantations, gardens and lawn. The cottage itself is a plain, unpretending structure, made more roomy by the recent addition of a dining room, &c., in rear. On emerging from the leafy avenue, the visitor notices two _parterres_ of wild flowers--kalmias, trilliums, etc.,-- transplanted from the neighboring wood, with the rank, moist soil of the Gomin marsh to derive nourishment from, they appear to thrive. In rear of these _parterres_ a granite rockery, festooned with ferns, wild violets, &c., raises its green gritty, rugged outline. This pretty European embellishment we would much like to see more generally introduced in our Canadian landscape; it is strikingly picturesque. The next object which catches the eye is the conservatory in which are displayed the most extensive collection of exotics in Sillery. In the centre of some fifty large camellia shrubs there is a magnificent specimen of the fimbriata variety--white leaves with a fringed border; it stands twelve feet high with corresponding breadth. When it is loaded with blossoms in the winter the spectacle is exquisitely beautiful. In the rear of the conservatory are a vinery, a peach and apricot house; like the conservatory, all span- roofed and divided off in several compartments, heated by steam-pipes and furnaces, with stop-cocks to retard or accelerate vegetation at will. On the 31st May, when we visited the establishment, we found the black Hamburg grapes the size of cherries; the peaches and apricots correspondingly advanced; the cherries under glass quite over. One of the latest improvements is a second flower garden to the west of the house, in the English landscape style. In rear of this garden to the north, there existed formerly a cedar swamp, which deep subsoil draining with tiles has converted into a grass meadow of great beauty; a belt of pine, spruce, tamarack, and some deciduous trees, thinned towards the south-west, let in a glimpse of the St. Lawrence and the high-wooded Point Levi shores, shutting out the view of the St. Lewis road, and completely overshadowing the porter's lodge; out-houses, stables, root-house, paddocks and barns are all on a correspondingly extensive scale. We have here another instance of the love of country life which our successful Canadian merchant likes to indulge in; and we can fancy, judging from our own case, with what zest Mr. Burstall the portly laird of Kirk Ella, after a toilsome day in his St. Peter street counting-house, hurried home to revel in the rustic beauty which surrounds his dwelling." Such was Kirk Ella in 1865.

Mr. Burstall having withdrawn from business, removed to England and died there a few years back. Kirk Ella has now become the property of Charles Ernest Levey, Esq., only son of the late Charles E. Levey, Esq., formerly of Cataracoui. The dwelling having been destroyed by fire in 1879, the new owner decided on erecting a handsome roomy mansion on the same site. The visitor at Kirk Ella, after paying his devoirs to the youthful Chatelain and Chatelaine, can admire at leisure Mr. Levey's numerous and expensive stud: "Lollypop", "Bismark," "Joker," "Jovial," "Tichborne," "Burgundy," "Catch-him-alivo," a crowd of fleet steeds, racing and trotting stock, surrounded by a yelping and frisky pack of "Peppers," "Mustards," "Carlos," "Guys," "Josephines," "Fidlers;" Mastiffs, French Poodles, Fox Terriers, Bulldogs,--Kirk Ella is a perfect Elysium for that faithful though noisy friend of man, the dog.

_CATARACOUI._

The conflagration of Spencer Wood, on the 12th March, 1860, made it incumbent on the Provincial Government to provide for His Excellency Sir Edmund Head a suitable residence. After examining several places, Cataracoui, the residence of Henry Burstall, Esquire, opposite to Kirk Ella was selected, and additions made, and still greater decorations and improvements ordered when it became known that the First Gentleman in England, our Sovereign's eldest son, was soon to pay a flying visit to Her Majesty's Canadian lieges. Cataracoui can boast of having harbored two princes of the blood royal, the prince of Wales, and his brother Alfred; a circumstance which no doubt much enhanced its prestige in the eyes of its owner. It was laid out about 1836 by Jas. B. Forsyth, Esq., the first proprietor, and reflects credit on his taste.

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."