Chapter V: Modern Quebec (6)

In the year 1848, Mr. Samuel Wright, of Quebec, purchased from John Porter, Esq., that upper portion of Meadowbank (the old estate of Lieutenant Governor Cramahé in 1762), which lies to the north of the Cap Rouge or St. Lewis road, and built a dwelling thereon. In 1846 Mr. Wright's property was put in the market, and Ravenswood acquired by the present owner, William Herring, Esq., of the late firm of Charles E. Levey & Co. No sylvan spot could have been procured, had all the woods around Quebec been ransacked, of wilder beauty. In the centre, a pretty cottage; to the east, trees; to the west, trees; to the north and south, trees-- stately trees all around you. Within a few rods from the hall door a limpid little brook oozes from under an old plantation, and forms, under a thorn tree of extraordinary size and most fantastically shaped limbs, a reservoir of clear water, round which, from a rustic seat, you notice speckled trout roaming fearlessly. Here was, for a man familiar with the park-like scenery of England, a store of materials to work into shape. That dense forest must be thinned; that indispensable adjunct of every Sillery home a velvety lawn, must be had; a peep through the trees, on the surrounding country, obtained; the stream dammed up so as to produce a sheet of water, on which a birch canoe will be launched; more air let in round the house; more of the forest cut away; and some fine beech, birch, maple, and pine trees grouped. The lawn would look better with a graceful and leafy elm in the centre, and a few smaller ones added to the perspective. By dint of care, elms of a goodly size were removed from the mountain brow. The efforts of the proprietor to plant large trees at Ravenswood have been eminently successful, and ought to stimulate others to add such valuable, such permanent elements of beauty, to their country seats. One plantation, by its luxuriance, pleased us more than any other, that which shades both sides of the avenue. Few of our places can boast of possessing a more beautifully-wooded and gracefully-curved approach to the house than Ravenswood. You see nothing of the dwelling until you emerge from this neat plantation of evergreens. We once viewed it under its most fascinating aspect; 'tis pretty in the bright, effulgent radiance of day, but when the queen of night sends forth her soft rays, and allows them to slumber silently on the rustling boughs of the green pines and firs, with the dark, gravelled avenue, visible here and there at every curve, no sounds heard except the distant murmur of the _Chaudière_ river, the effect is striking.

_THE WOODS OF SILLERY._

I know each lane, and every valley green,
Dingle, or bushy dell, of this wild wood;
And every bosky bourn from side to side,
My daily walks and ancient neighborhood.
--Comus, _Shakespeare_.

"You, doubtless, imagine you have now seen Sillery under every aspect;
there never was a greater mistake, dear reader. Have you ever viewed
its woods in all their autumnal glory, when September arrays them in
tints of unsurpassed loveliness? We hear you say, no. Let us then, our
pensive philosopher, our romantic blushing rose bud of sweet sixteen,
our _blasé_-traveller, let us have a canter over Cap Rouge road
out by St. Louis gate, and returning by the St. Foy road, nine miles
and more, let us select a quiet afternoon, not far distant from the
Indian summer, when

The gentle wind a sweet and passionate wooer,
Kisses the blushing leaf, and stirs up life
Within the solemn woods of ash, deep crimsoned,
And Silver beech, and maple yellow-leaved,"

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

"There is something indescribably beautiful in the appearance of
Canadian woods at this season of the year, especially when the light
of the rising or setting sun falls upon them. Almost every imaginable
shade of green, brown, red and yellow, may be found in the foliage of
our forest trees, shrubs, and creeping vines, as the autumn advances
and it may truly be said that every backwood's home in Canada is
surrounded by more gorgeous colourings and richer beauties than the
finest mansions of the nobility of England.

"Have our readers ever remarked the peculiarly beautiful appearance of
the pines at this season of the year? When other trees manifest
symptoms of withering, they appear to put forth a richer and fresher
foliage. The interior of the tree, when shaded from the sun, is a deep
invisible-green, approaching to black, whilst the outer boughs,
basking in the sunlight, show the richest dark-green that can be
imagined. A few pine and spruce trees scattered among the more
brightly-colored oaks, maple, elms and beeches, which are the chief
denizens of our forests, give the whole an exceedingly rich
appearance. Among the latter, every here and there, strange sports of
nature attract attention. A tree that is still green will have a
single branch, covered with red and orange leaves, like a gigantic
bouquet of flowers. Another will have one side of a rich maroon,
whilst the other side remains green. A third will present a flounce or
ruffle of bright buff, or orange leaves round the middle, whilst the
branches above and below continue green. Then again some trees which
have turned to a rich brown, will be seen intertwined and festooned by
the wild vine or red root, still beautifully green; or a tree that is
still green will he mantled over by the Canadian ivy, whose leaves
have turned to a deep reddish-brown. In fact, every hue that painters
love, or almost could imagine, is found standing out boldly or hid
away in some recess, in one part or another of a forest scene at this
season, and all so delicately mingled and blended that human art must
despair of making even a tolerable imitation. And these are beauties
which not even the sun can portray; the photographer's art has not yet
enabled him to seize and fix them on the mirror which he holds up to
nature. He can give the limbs and outward flourishes, but not the soul
of such a scene. His representation bears the same relation to the
reality that a beautiful corpse does to the flashing eye and glowing
cheek of living beauty."--(From "_Maple Leaves_," 1865.)

_LONGWOOD._

THE COUNTRY SEAT OF THE HON. WM. SMITH
(1760-1847.)

Here there was laughing of old, there was weeping,
Haply of lovers none ever will know,
Whose eyes went seaward a hundred sleeping
Years ago.

The ghost of a garden fronts the sea,
A girdle of brushwood and thorn encloses
The -- square slope of the blossomless bed
Where the weeds that grew green from the graves of its roses
Now lie dead.

The fields fall southward, abrupt and broken,
To the low last edge of the long lone land,
If a step should sound or a word be spoken
Would a ghost not rise at the strange guest's hand?
SWINBURNE'S _Forsaken Garden_.

On a grey, cheerless May afternoon, I visited what I might call the ruins of this once bright abode--Longwood--at Cap Rouge. Here the eccentric, influential and scholarly historian of Canada and statesman, the Honorable William Smith, spent the evening of his long and busy life. Whence the name Longwood? Did the Hon. William bestow on his rustic home the name of the residence where sojourned his illustrious contemporary--his admired hero, Napoleon I. (born like himself in 1769), to commemorate his own release from the cares of State? Was Cap Rouge and its quiet and sylvan bowers to him a haven of rest like St. Helena might have been to the _Petit Caporal_?

The locality, at present, can only attract from its woodland views. The house, of one story, is about eighty feet in length by forty in breadth, of wood, with an oval window over the entrance to light up that portion of the large attic. Its roomy lower apartments and attics must have fitted it admirably for a summer retreat. It is painted a dull yellow; the blinds may have been once green. When I saw it, I found it as bleak, as forlorn, as the snows and storms of many winters can well make a tenantless dwelling.

Outside, the "ghost of a garden" had stared at me, and when the key turned and grated in the rusty old lock of this dreary tenement, with its disjointed floors, disintegrated foundations, darkened apartments with shutters all closed, I almost thought I might encounter within the ghost of the departed historian;

All within is dark as night:
In the windows is no light;
And no murmur at the door,
So frequent on its hinge before,

still the time had been when the voice of revelry, the patter of light feet, the meeting of many friends, had awakened gladsome echoes in these now silent halls of Longwood. Traditions told of noted dinner parties, of festive evenings, when Quebec could boast of a well appointed garrison, and stately frigates crowded its port.

How many balls at the Barons' Club? how many annual dinners of the Veterans of 1775, at Menut's? how many _levees_ at the old Château, had the Laird not attended from the first, the historical levee of Dec. 6, 1786, "where the Governor-General, Lord Dorchester, monopolised the kissing," so graphically depicted by William's dignified papa, [249] the Chief Justice, down to the jocund _fêtes champêtres_ of Sir James Craig at Powell Place immortalized by old Mr. DeGaspé--to the gay _soirees_ of the Duke of Richmond--the literary _reunions_ of the scholarly Earl of Dalhousie--the routs and lawn parties at Spencer Wood.

The Honorable William Smith, a son of the learned chief Justice of New York in 1780--of all Canada in 1785, was indeed a prominent figure in Quebec circles for more than half a century; his high, confidential and official duties, his eminent position as member of the Executive Council, to which his powerful protector Earl Bathurst had named him in 1814--his refined and literary tastes, his tireless researches in Canadian annals, at a time when the founts of our history as yet unrevealed by the art of the printer, lay dormant under heaps of decaying--though priceless--M.SS. in the damp vaults of the old Parliament Buildings; these and several other circumstances surround the memory, haunts and times of the Laird of Longwood with peculiar significance.

But for the Honorable William one bleak autumn came, when the trees he had planted ceased to lend him their welcome shade--the roses he had reared, to send perfume to his tottering frame--the garden he had so exquisitely planned, to gladden his aged eyes. He then bid adieu forever to the cherished old spot and retired to his town house, now the residence of Hon. Chas. Alleyn, Sheriff of Quebec, [250] where those he loved received his last farewell on the 7th December, 1847, bequeathing Longwood to his son Charles Webber Smith, who lived some years there as a bachelor, then decked out his rustic home for an English bride and retired to England where he died in 1879. Desolation and silence has reigned in the halls of Longwood for many a long day, and in the not inappropriate words of Swinburne,

Not a flower to be prest of the foot that falls not.
As the heart of a dead man the seed plots are dry;
From the thickets of thorns whence the nightingale calls not,
Could she call, there were never a rose to reply.

Chief Justice Smith [251] concerning house-keeping, house-furnishing château ceremonies, etc, at Quebec in 1786, wrote thus in a letter to his wife:

QUEBEC, 10th Dec., 1786.

_Mrs. Janet Smith, New York._

My dear Janet,

"Not a line from you yet! so that our approach to within 600 miles is
less favourable to me hitherto, than when the ocean divided us by
three thousand. It is the more vexatious, as we are daily visited by
your Eastern neighbors, who, caring nothing for you, know nothing of
you, and cannot tell me whether McJoen's or the Sopy Packet is
arrived. If the latter is not over, there will be cause for ill boding
respecting Mr. Lanaudière, who, I imagine, left the channel with the
wind that brought us out.

If the packet is on the way for Falmouth, get my letters into it for
Mr. Raphbrigh, it contains a bill for £300 sterling to enable him to
pay for what you order. You have no time to spare. A January mail
often meets with easterly winds off the English coast, that blows for
months, and we shall be mortified if you arrive before the necessary
supplies, which, to be in time, must come in the ships that leave
England in March or on the beginning of April.

I have found no house yet to my fancy. None large enough to be hired.
We shall want a drawing-room, a dining or eating-room, my library, our
bedroom, one for the girls, another for Hale and William, and another
for your house-keeper and hair-dresser. Moore and another man servant
will occupy the eight. And I doubt if there is such a house to be
hired in Quebec. To say nothing of quarters for the lower servants
who, I think must be negroes from New York as cheapest and least
likely to find difficulties. My Thomas's wages are 24 guineas and with
your three from England will put us to £100 sterling per annum.

If you bring blacks from New York with you, let them be such as you
can depend upon. Our table will always want four attendants of decent
appearance. The hurry of the public arrangements prevents me from
writing, as I intended, to my friends on the other side of the water,
nor even to Janet _upon the great wish of my heart_, tell her so,
but she will know what can be done in time, for she cannot leave
England till April or May, at any time before August to be here in
good season. I have written to Vermont upon the subject of Moore Town
and hear nothing to displease me, as yet, if no mischief has been done
to our interests in that country, there will be peace, I believe; but
of this more when I have their Governor's answer to my letters. They
already ask favours and must first do justice.

Our winter is commenced and yet I was never less sensible of the
frost. The stoves of Canada, in the passages, temper the air through
all the house. I sit ordinarly by a common hearth which gives me the
thermometer at 71 or 72, nearly summer heat. The close cariole and fur
cap and cloak is a luxury only used on journeys. The cariole alone
suffices in town. The Rout of last Thursday demonstrates this: 50
ladies in bright head dresses and not a lappet or frill discomposed.
All English in the manner, except the ceremony of kissing which my
Lord D. (Dorchester) engrossed all to himself. His aide-de-camp handed
them through a room where he and I were posted to receive them. They
had given two cheek kisses and were led away to the back rooms of the
château, to which we repaired when the rush was over. The gentlemen
came in at another door. Tea, cards, etc., that till 10 o'clock and
the ceremony ended. I stole away at 9 and left your son to attend the
beauty of the evening, a Mrs. Williams, wife to a major Williams and a
daughter to Sir John Gibbons of Windford, a lady of genteel manners as
well as birth. He did not find his lodging till near midnight. We had
a dance that day at the Lt. Governor's. You must know General Hope. He
was often at General Robertson's under the name of Col. Harry Hope,
nephew to Lord Hopetown in Scotland, to Lord Darlington (by his
mother's second marriage) in England. His table is in very genteel
fashion. It reminds me that Mrs. Mallet must not forget all those
little ornaments of plate, glass, etc., that belong to a dining-room.
No water plates, the rooms don't require them, the plates being
sufficiently heated by the stoves. But water dishes are necessary for
soup and fish _fricassees_ all in the shape of the proper dishes
for such articles. Don't forget, among others, the silver gravy cups
with double cavities, the larger for hot water. They are small hand
ones, not unlike a tea pot. Mrs. Mallet will find these at all the
great shops and particularly at Jones, in Cockspur street, near
Charing Cross, where I bought my Mary's watch chain. William that
understands Latin and French letters better than his native tongue,
importunes my ordering a set of classical books, which he is welcome
to, if you can purchase at N. Y. a small bill for about £15 sterling
and enclose it in my letter to Mr. Ryland. If that is inconvenient to
you stop my letter, and I will find other means to gratify his
inclination. There is a very good library [252] here, and many private
ones at my friends. How wretched your general affairs? if our Yankey
informers speak the truth, multitudes are disposed to turn their heads
from that draught, which I thought they would not long relish. Lord D.
with the generosity and charity he always indulged, bids them welcome,
disposed as he says to favour even the independant Whigs of America,
above any other nation under heaven, for tho' no longer brethren, they
are at least our cousins, branches from the same stock.

I have infinite consolation, in having dissuaded the parties from the
steps, that led to all the calamities they have felt and still dread
and more cheerfully will grasp at the means to lessen these
afflictions, as the surest path to the greatest glory. I am solicited
from Cambridge for a gift for pious uses, and find that you have been
applied to, and probably will again. My promise shall most certainly
be fulfilled. It was to give a lot for a church. But as I told them it
was to be a gift to _Christianity_ and not to Sectarianism.
Religion and party are two different things. Tell them so that my gift
will be to all Protestants, that is to say to the majority of the town
being protestants, be the denomination what it may, and that I may not
be imposed upon, I shall put my seal to no deed, before they bring me
Dr. Rodger's certificate upon the subject. My best respects to him
with compliments to Mrs. T., Mr. Ainslie, Mr. and Mrs. Foxcraft and
all your friends.

The snapping of my wood fires makes me think of yours. Don't forget
them yourself. _Your three hundred acres of shingles_, chills the
blood in my veins.... Adieu. The broad hand of Heaven protect you!

I am, my dearest,

Most faithfully yours,

W. S.

_MEADOWBANK._

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

Happy, is he who in a country life
Shuns more perplexing toil and jarring strife,
Who lives upon the natal soil he loves
And sits beneath his old ancestral groves."
--_Downing_.

Facing Ravenswood, on the road to Cape Rouge, on the breezy banks of the noble river, there lies a magnificent expanse of verdure, with here and there a luxuriant copse of evergreens and sugar maple. It crowns a graceful slope of undulating meadows and cornfields. The dwelling, a plain, straggling white cottage, lies _perdu_ among the green firs and solemn pines. Over the verdant groves, glimpses of the white cottages of Levi and New Liverpool occasionally catch the eye. This rustic landscape, pleasant at all times, becomes strikingly picturesque, at the "fall of the leaf"--when the rainbow-tinted foliage is, lit up by a mellow, autumnal sun. Under this favored aspect it was our happiness to view it in September, 1880.

"Bright yellow, red and orange
The leaves came down in hosts;
The trees are Indian princes
But soon they'll turn to ghosts."

In 1762, this broad, wild domain was owned by Lt.-Gov. Hector Theophilus Cramahé of Quebec, and according to an entry in the Diary of Judge Henry, he apparently was still the proprietor in 1775, at the time of the blockade of Quebec. In 1785, the land passed by purchase to one of Fraser's Highlanders, Capt. Cameron. It was from 1841 to 1875, the cherished abode of a cultured English gentleman, the late John Porter, the able secretary and treasurer of the Quebec Turnpike Trust. It did one good to see the courteous old bachelor, cosily seated in his ample, well selected library, surrounded by a few congenial friends, the toils of the day over--the dust of St. Peter Street shaken off. Mr. Porter was a fair type of the well-informed English country gentleman, well read in Debrett, with a pedigree reaching as far back as William the Norman. At his demise, he bequeathed this splendid farm to the son of a valued old friend. Andrew Chs. Stuart, Esq., of the law firm of Ross, Stuart & Stuart, Quebec, now Lt.-Col. Andrew Charles Stuart, of the 8th Batt. "Royal Rifles," Quebec.

Col. Stuart, the possessor of ample means, having a taste for agricultural pursuits, has lately become an active member of the Quebec Turf Club, as well as a successful breeder of prize cattle. His stud is renowned all over Canada. Col. Stuart lately took up his residence at Meadowbank, since which time a transformation seems to have come over the land; sprightly parterres of flowers, dainty pavilions, trim hedges, rustic seats, hanging baskets of ferns, are conspicuous, where formerly hay alone flourished. A neighboring rill has been skilfully enlisted to do duty, dammed up, bridged over, gently coaxed to meander, whimple and bubble, like Tennyson's brook, here and there rippling over and rushing into cool trout ponds, under the shade of moss and trees, until it leaps down to the St. Lawrence.

A small race-course has been laid out, south of the house, in a declivity towards the St. Lawrence to exercise the thoroughbreds and keep healthy the pet charger for parade days, as well as ladies' palfreys, which are not forgotten at Meadowbank.

In an enclosure protected by stone pillars and chains, under the shade of a handsome tree, may be read on a board, the following name, recently inscribed,

"ASTREA"

This marks the spot where a favourite saddle-horse, who died prematurely, now rests. All now wanting to perfect this scene of rustic beauty is a cottage _orné_ or a _Chalet Suisse_.

A RAID ON MEADOWBANK IN 1775, AND HOW KING GEORGE'S FRIENDS, THE
"QUEBEC TORIES" WERE THEN PLUNDERED.

The following extract from Judge Henry's Diary seems to refer to the
country seat, now known as Meadowbank:

Arnold's little army had retreated to Pointe aux Trembles on the 15th
Nov. On the 2nd December, 1775, they retraced their steps to Quebec
and in the evening arrived at St. Foy. On the 12th of December, Henry
[253] says "The officers and men still wore nothing else than the
remains of the summer clothing, which being on their back, had escaped
destruction in the disaster of the wilderness." At this time the snow
lay three feet deep over the whole country. One fine morning a fellow
addressed Simpson who was the only officer in quarters and said "that
about two miles up the St. Lawrence lay a country seat of Governor
Cromie's (Cramahé?) stocked with many things they wanted and he would
be our guide. Carioles were immediately procured. The house, a neat
box, was romantically situated on the steep bank of the river, not
very distant from a chapel. [254] Though in the midst of winter the
spot displayed the elegant taste and abundant wealth of the owner. The
house was closed; knocking, the hall door was opened to us by an
Irishwoman who, of the fair sex, was the largest and most brawny that
ever came under my notice. She was the stewardess of the house. Our
questions were answered with an apparent affability and frankness. She
introduced us into the kitchen, a large apartment, well filled with
these articles which good livers think necessary to the happy
enjoyment of life. Here we observed five or six Canadian servants
huddled into a corner of the kitchen trembling with fear. Our prying
eyes soon discovered a trap door leading into the cellar. The men
entered it; firken after firken of butter,--lard, tallow, beef, pork,
fish and salt, all became a prey. While the men were rummaging below
the lieutenant descended to cause more despatch. My duty was to remain
at the end of the trap door with my back to the wall, and rifle cocked
as a sentry, keeping a strict eye on the servants. My good Irishwoman
frequently beckoned to me to descend; her drift was to catch us all in
the trap. Luckily she was comprehended. The cellar and kitchen being
thoroughly gutted, and the spoil borne to the carriages, the party
dispersed into the other apartments. Here was elegancy. The walls and
partitions were beautifully papered, and decorated with large
engravings, maps, &c., and of the most celebrated artists. A noble
view of the City of Philadelphia upon a large scale taken from the
neighborhood of Cooper's Ferry drew my attention and raised some
compunctive ideas; but war and the sciences always stand at arms
length in the contests of mankind. The latter must succumb in the
tumult. Our attention was much more attracted by the costly feather
beds, counterpanes, and charming rose blankets, which the house
afforded. Of these there was a good store and we left not a jot behind
us. The nooks and crevices in the carioles were filled with smaller
articles; several dozen of admirably finished case knives and forks;
even a set of dessert knives obtained the notice of our cupidity.
Articles of a lesser moment nor a thousandth part so useful, did not
escape the all-grasping hands of the soldiery. In a back apartment
there stood a mahogany couch or settee in a highly finished style. The
woodwork of the couch was raised on all sides by cushioning, and
costly covered by a rich figured silk. This to us was lumber, besides
our carioles were full. However, we grabbed the mattrass and pallets
all equally elegant as the couch. Having, as we thought, divested his
Excellency of all the articles of prime necessity, we departed,
ostensibly and even audibly accompanied by the pious blessings of the
stewardess for our moderation. No doubt she had her mental
reservations; on such business as this we regarded neither. Near the
chapel we met a party of Morgan's men coming to do that which we had
already done. The officer appeared chagrined when he saw the extent of
our plunder. He went on, and finally ransacked the house, and yet a
little more the stables. The joy of our men, among whom the plunder
was distributed in nearly equal portions was extravagant. Now an
operation of the human mind, which often takes place in society, and
is every day discernable by persons of observation, became clearly
obvious. Let a man once with impunity desert the strict rule of rules,
all subsequent aggression is not only increased in atrocity, but is
done without a qualm of conscience. Though our company was composed
principally of freeholders, or the sons of such, bred at home under
the strictures of religion and morality, yet when the reins of decorum
were loosed and the honorable feeling weakened, it became impossible
to administer restraint. The person of a Tory or his property became
fair game, and this at the denunciation of some base domestic villain.

On the morning following December 13, the same audacious scoundrel
again returned, and another marauding expedition started under his
guidance to a farm "said to belong to Gov. Cromie (Cramahé?) or some
other inhabitant of Quebec. It was further than the former scene." The
farm-house, though low, being but one story, was capacious and
tolerably neat. The barn built of logs, with a thrashing floor in the
centre, was from 70 to 80 feet in length. The tenant, his wife and
children shuddered upon our approach. Assurances that they should be
unharmed relieved their fears. The tenant pointed out to us the horned
cattle, pigs and poultry of his landlord. These were shot down without
mercy or drove before us to our quarters. Thus we obtained a tolerable
load for our caravan, which consisted of five or six carioles. "With
this disreputable exploit marauding ceased. A returning sense of
decency and order emanating from ourselves produced a sense of
contrition. It is a solemn truth that we plundered none but those who
were notoriously Tories and then within the walls of Quebec."

_THE HIGHLANDS._

The range of heights extends from Spencer Wood, west, to the black bridge over the stream at Kilmarnock, gradually recedes from the road, leaving at its foot a spacious area interspersed with green pastures, lawns, ploughed fields and plantations. On the most elevated plateau of this range stands "The Highlands," a large substantial fire-brick dwelling, with an ample verandah, erected a few years back by Michael Stevenson, Esquire, merchant, of Quebec. The site is recommended by a fine view of the river St. Lawrence, an airy and healthy position, and the luxuriant foliage of the spruce, pine and maple in the background. The internal arrangements of the dwelling, whether regard be had to ventilation in summer or heating in winter, are on the most modern and improved plan. "The Highlands" lie above St. Michael's Cove teeming with historical recollections, a little to the west thereof, in front of St. Lewis road of historic renown, over which pranced, in 1663, the Marquis of Tracy's gaudy equipage and splendid body-guard wearing, as history tells, the uniform of the _Gardes de la Reine_. In Sept., 1759, [255] the Rochbeaucourt Cavalry, with their "blue uniforms and neat light horses of different colours," scoured the heights in all directions, watching the motions of the English fleet, which may be seen in the plate of the siege operations, lying at anchor at Sillery, ready, the huge black leviathans, to hurl destruction on the devoted city. In 1838, we remember well noticing Lord Durham's showy equipage with outriders, thundering daily over this same road: the Earl being a particular admirer of the Cap Rouge scenery. This seat has passed over, by purchase, to Chas. Temple, Esq., son of our late respected fellow-townsman, Major Temple, who for a series of years served in that 15th regiment, to whose prowess the Plains of Abraham bore witness during the war of the conquest. "The Highlands" are now occupied by J. W. Stockwell, Esquire.

_WINTER FOX HUNTING IN CANADA._

From time immemorial, Merry England has been renowned for her field
sports; prominent amongst which may be reckoned her exciting pastime
of Fox-hunting, the pride, the glory, _par excellence_ of the
roystering English squire. Many may not be aware that we also, in our
far-off Canada, have a method of Fox-hunting peculiarly our own--in
harmony with the nature of the country--adapted to the rigors of our
arctic winter season--the successful prosecution of which calls forth
more endurance, a keener sight, a more thorough knowledge of the
habits of the animal, a deeper self-control and greater sagacity, than
does the English sport; for, as the proverb truly says, "_Pour
attraper la bête, faut être plus fin qu'elle._" [256]

A short sketch [257] of a Canadian Fox-hunt may not, therefore, prove
uninteresting. At the outset, let the reader bear in mind that Sir
Reynard _Canadensis_ is rather a rakish, dissipated gentleman,
constantly turning night into day, in the habit of perambulating
through the forests, the fields, and homesteads, at most improper
hours, to ascertain whether, perchance, some old dame Partlett, some
hoary gobbler, some thoughtless mother-goose, allured to wander over
the farm-yard by the jocund rays of a returning March sun, may not
have been outside of the barn, when the negligent stable-boy closed up
for the night; or else, whether some gay Lothario of a hare in yonder
thicket may not, by the silent and discreet rays of the moon, be
whispering some soft nonsense in the willing ear of some guileless
doe, escaped from a parent's vigilant eye. For on such has the
midnight marauder set his heart: after such does noiselessly prowl,
favoured by darkness--the dissipated rascal--_querens quem devoret_--
determined to make up, on the morrow, by a long meridian _siesta_ on
the highest pinacle of a snow-drift, for the loss of his night's-rest.
Should fortune refuse the sly prowler the coveted hen, turkey, goose,
or hare, warmly clad in his fur coat and leggings, with tail
horizontal, he sallies forth over the snow-wreathed fields, on the
skirts of woods, in search of ground mice, his ordinary provender.
But, you will say, how can he discover them under the snow? By that
wonderful instinct with which nature has endowed the brute creation to
provide for their sustenance, each according to its nature, to its
wants. By his marvellously acute ear, the fox detects the ground mouse
under the snow, though he should utter a noise scarcely audible to a
human ear. Mr. Fox sets instantly to work, digs down the earth, and in
a trice gobbles up _mus_, his wife, and young family. Should nothing
occur to disturb his arrangements, he devotes each day in winter, from
ten or half-past ten in the forenoon, to repose; selecting the
loftiest snow-bank he can find, or else a large rock, or perchance any
other eminence from which--

"Monarch of all _he surveys_"--

he can command a good view of the neighborhod, and readily scent
approaching danger. Nor does he drop off immediately in a sound sleep,
like a turtle-fed alderman; but rather, like a suspicious, blood-
thirsty land pirate, as he is, he first snatches hastily "forty
winks," then starts up nervously, for several times, scanning all
around with his cruel, cunning eye--snuffing the air. Should he be
satisfied that no cause of alarm exists, he scrapes himself a bed, if
in the snow and, warmly wrapped in his soft fur cloak, he coils
himself up, cat-fashion, in the sun, with his brushy tail brought over
his head, but careful to keep his nose to the direction from which the
wind blows, so as to catch the first notice of and scent the lurking
enemy. On a stormy, blustery day, the fox will, however, usually seek
the shelter of some bushes or trees, and on such occasion is usually
found under the _lee_ of some little wooded point, where, steeped
in sweetest sleep, he can at leisure dream of clucking hens, fat
turkeys, and tender leverets--sheltered from the storm, and still
having an uninterrupted view before him. The hunter, when bent on a
fox hunt, is careful to wear garments whose colour blends with the
prevailing hue of frosted nature: a white cotton _capot_, and
_capuchon_ to match, is slipped over his great coat; pants also
white--everything to harmonize with the snow; a pair of snow-shoes and
a short gun complete his equipment. Once arrived at the post where he
expects to meet reynard, he looks carefully about for signs of tracks,
and having discovered fresh ones, he follows them, keeping a very
sharp look-out. Should he perceive a fox, and that animal be not
asleep, it is then that he has need of all his wits and of all the
knowledge of the animal's habits he may possess. As previously stated,
the fox depends principally on his scent, to discover danger; but his
eye is also good, and to succeed in approaching within gun shot of him
in the open country, the gunner must watch every motion most
carefully, moving only when the animal's gaze is averted, and stopping
instantly the moment he looks towards him, no matter what position the
sportman's may be at that time. No matter how uncomfortable he may
feel; move he dare not, foot nor limb; the eye of the fox is on him,
and the least movement would betray him and alarm his watchful quarry.
It will be easily conceived that to succesfully carry out this
programme, it requires nerves of steel and a patience _à toute
épreuve_. It has been the good luck of one of our friends once to
approach thus a fox, within twenty feet, without his detecting him;
needless to say, it was done moving against the wind. Some few hunters
can so exactly imitate the cry of the ground mouse, as to bring the
fox to them, especially if he is very hungry; but it is not always
that this plan succeeds. The animal's ear is keen; the slightest
defect in the imitation betrays the trap, and away canters alarmed
reynard at railroad speed. Some sportsmen prefer to watch the fox, and
wait until he falls asleep which they know he will surely do, if not
disturbed, and then they can approach him easily enough against the
wind. It is not unusual for them to get within fifteen feet of the
animal, before the noise of their footsteps causes him to wake.--As
may readily be supposed in such cases, his awakening and death are
generally simultaneous.

It is a fact worthy of note, that the fox, if undisturbed, will every
day return to the same place to sleep, and about the same hour. These
animals are not as abundant as they were a few years back.

The extent of country travelled by a fox by moonlight, each night, is
very great. Not many years ago, a Quebec hunter [258] who is in the
habit of enjoying his daily walk at peep of day, informed the writer
that on many occasions he has seen the sly wanderer, on being
disturbed from the neighborhood of the tanneries in St. Vallier
street, hieing away at a gallop towards the Lorette and Charlesbourg
mountains, a distance of nine miles each way.

_CAPE ROUGE COTTAGE._

With its rear facing St. Augustin parish, eight miles from the city a commodious dwelling graces the summit of the lofty cape or promontory, which terminates westward the elevated _plateau_, on the eastern extremity of which, Champlain, in 1608, raised the lily-spangled banner of the Bourbons. Unquestionably the environs of Quebec are rich in scenery, revelling one half of the year in rural loveliness, the other half enjoying that solid comfort, which successful enterprise, taste and free institutions communicate to whatever they touch; but no where, not even at Spencer Wood, or Woodfield, has nature lavished such beautiful landscapes, such enchanting views. Three centuries ago, Europeans had pitched here their tents, until the return of spring, attracted by the charms of the spot; three hundred years after that, a man of taste--to whom we may now without fear, give his due, as he is where neither praise nor censure can be suspected,--an English merchant had selected this site for its rare attractiveness; here he resided for many summers. In 1833 he removed to Spencer Wood. We allude to the late Henry Atkinson, who was succeeded at the Cap Rouge Cottage by William Atkinson, Esq., merchant of London, England. Mr. William Atkinson lived in affluence and happiness at Cap Rouge, several years. There are yet at Quebec those who remember the kind- heartedness and hospitality of this English gentleman of the old school.

Geo. Usborne, Esq., was the next occupant of the cottage. The estate consisted formerly of close on one hundred acres of land, extending north across the king's highway, with a river frontage of about twenty acres, the lot on the south side of the road is laid out, one half in a park, the remainder in two or three fruit and flower gardens, divided by brick walls to trail vines and ripen fruit. It lies quite sheltered with a southerly exposure, bounded by the lofty, perpendicular river banks; the base, some two hundred feet below, skirted by a narrow road, washed by the waves of the St. Lawrence. A magnificent avenue extends along the high bank under ancient, ever-verdant pines, whose far outspreading branches, under the influence of winds, sigh a plaintive but soothing music, blending their soft rustle to the roar of the Etchemin or the Chaudière rivers before easterly gales; how well Pickering has it:--

"The overshadowing pines alone, through which I roam,
Their verdure keep, although it darker looks;
And hark! as it comes sighing through the grove,
The exhausted gale, a spirit there awakes
That wild and melancholy music makes."

From the house verandah, the eye plunges westward down the high cape, following the capricious windings of the Cap Rouge stream far to the north, or else scans the green uplands of St. Augustin, its white cottages rising in soft undulations as far as the sight can reach. Over the extreme point of the southwestern cape hangs a fairy pavilion, like an eagle's eyrie amongst alpine crags, just a degree more secure than that pensile old fir tree which you notice at your feet stretching over the chasm; beneath you the majestic flood, Canada's pride, with a hundred merchantmen sleeping on its placid waters, and the orb of day dancing blithely over every ripple. Oh! for a few hours to roam with those we love under these old pines, to listen to the voices of other years, and cull a fragrant wreath of those wild flowers which everywhere strew our path.

Is there not enough of nature's charm around this sunny, truly Canadian home? And how much of the precious metal would many an English duke give to possess, in his own famed isle, a site of such exquisite beauty? We confess, we denizens of Quebec, we do feel proud of our Quebec scenery; not that on comparison we think the less of other localities, but that on looking round we get to think more of our own.

Cap Rouge, from it having been the location of Europeans, early in the sixteenth century, must claim the attention of every man of cultivated mind who takes a pleasure in scrutinizing the past, and in tracing the advent on our shores of the various races of European descent, now identified with this land of the West, yearning for the bright destinies the future has in store.

At the foot of the Cape, on which the Cape Rouge Cottage now stands, Jacques Cartier and Roberval wintered, the first in 1541-2; the second in 1543-4. Recent discoveries have merely added to the interest which these historical incidents awaken. The new _Historical Picture of Quebec_, published in 1834, thus alludes to these circumstances:--

"We now come to another highly interesting portion of local history. It has been stated that the old historians were apparently ignorant of this last voyage of Cartier. Some place the establishment of the fort at Cape Breton, and confound his proceedings with those of Roberval. The exact spot where Cartier passed his second winter in Canada is not mentioned in any publication that we have seen. The following is the description given of the station in Hakluyt: 'After which things the said captain went, with two of his boats, up the river, beyond Canada'--the promontory of Quebec is meant--'and the port of St. Croix, to view a haven and a small river which is about four leagues higher, which he found better and more commodious to ride in, and lay his ships, than the former. * * * The said river is small, not passing fifty paces broad, and ships drawing three fathoms water may enter in at full sea; and at low water there is nothing but a channel of a foot deep or thereabouts. * * * The mouth of the river is towards the south, and it windeth northward like a snake; and at the mouth of it, towards the east, there is a high and steep cliff, where we made a way in manner of a pair of stairs, and aloft we made a fort to keep the nether fort and the ships, and all things that might pass as well by the great as by the small river." Who that reads the above accurate description will doubt that the mouth of the little river Cap Rouge was the station chosen by Jacques Cartier for his second wintering place in Canada? The original description of the grounds and scenery on both sides of the river Cap Rouge is equally faithful with that which we have extracted above. The precise spot on which the upper fort of Jacques Cartier was built, afterwards enlarged by Roberval, has been fixed by an ingenious gentleman of Quebec, at the top of Cap Rouge height, a short distance from the handsome villa and establishment of H. Atkinson (now of James Bowen) There is, at the distance of about an acre to the north of Mr. Atkinson's house, a hillock of artificial construction, upon which are trees indicating great antiquity, and as it does not appear that any fortifications were erected on this spot, either in the war of 1759, or during the attack of Quebec by the Americans in 1775, it is extremely probable that here are to be found the interesting site and remains of the ancient fort in question.

"On his return to the fort of Charlesbourg Royal, the suspicions of Cartier as to the unfriendly disposition of the Indians were confirmed. He was informed that the natives now kept aloof from the fort, and had ceased to bring them fish and provisions as before. He also learned from some of the men who had been at Stadacona, that an unusual number of Indians had assembled there--and associating, as he always seems to have done, the idea of danger with any concourse of the natives, he resolved to take all necessary precautions, causing everything in the fortress to be set in order.

"At this crisis, to the regret of all who feel an interest in the local history of the time the relation of Cartier's third voyage abruptly breaks off. Of the proceedings during the winter which he spent at Cap Rouge, nothing is known. It is probable that it passed over without any collision with the natives, although the position of the French, from their numerical weakness, must have been attended with great anxiety.

"It has been seen that Roberval, notwithstanding his lofty titles, and really enterprising character, did not fulfil his engagement to follow Cartier with supplies sufficient for the settlement of a colony, until the year following. By that time the Lieutenant General had furnished three large vessels chiefly at the King's cost, having on board two hundred persons, several gentlemen of quality, and settlers, both men and women. He sailed from La Rochelle on the 16th of April, 1542, under the direction of an experienced pilot, by name John Alphonse, of Xaintonge. The prevalence of westerly winds prevented their reaching Newfoundland until 7th June. On the 8th they entered the road of St. John, where they found seventeen vessels engaged in the fisheries. During his stay in this road, he was surprised and disappointed by the appearance of Jacques Cartier, on his return from Canada, whither he had been sent the year before with five ships. Cartier had passed the winter in the fortress described above, and gave as a reason for the abandonment of the settlement, 'that he could not with his small company withstand the savages which went about daily to annoy him.' He continued, nevertheless, to speak of the country as very rich and fruitful. Cartier is said, in the relation, of Roberval's voyage in Hakluyt, to have produced some gold ore found in the country, which on being tried in a furnace, proved to be good. He had with him also some _diamonds_, the natural production of the promontory of Quebec, from which the Cape derived its name. The Lieutenant General having brought so strong a reinforcement of men and necessaries for the settlement, was extremely urgent with Cartier to go back again to Cap Rouge, but without success. It is most probable that the French, who had recently passed a winter of hardship in Canada, would not permit their Captain to attach himself to the fortunes and particular views of Roberval. Perhaps, the fond regret of home prevailed over the love of adventure, and like men who conceived that they had performed their part of the contract into which they had entered, they were not disposed to encounter new hardships under a new leader. In order, therefore, to prevent any open disagreement, Cartier weighed anchor in the course of the night without taking leave of Roberval, and made all sail for France. It is impossible not to regret this somewhat inglorious termination of a distinguished career. Had he returned to his fort, with the additional strength of Roberval, guided by his own skill and experience, it is most probable that the colony would have been destined to a permanent existence. Cartier undertook no other voyage to Canada; but he afterwards completed a sea chart, drawn by his own hand, which was extant in the possession of one of his nephews, Jacques Noël, of St. Malo, in 1587, who seems to have taken great interest in the further development of the vast country discovered by his deceased uncle. Two letters of his have been preserved, relating to the maps and writings of Cartier: the first written in 1587, and the others a year or two latter, in which he mentions that his two sons, Michael and John Noël, were then in Canada, and that he was in expectation of their return. Cartier himself died soon after his return to France, having sacrificed his fortune in the case of discovery. As an indemnification for the losses their uncle had sustained, this Jacques Noel and another nephew, De la Launay Chaton, received in 1588, an exclusive privilege to trade to Canada during, twelve years, but this was revoked four months after it was granted.

"Roberval, notwithstanding his mortification at the loss of Cartier's experience and aid in his undertaking, determined to proceed, and sailing from Newfoundland, about the end of June, 1543, he arrived at Cap Rouge, 'four leagues westward of the Isle of Orleans,' towards the end of July. Here the French immediately fortified themselves, 'in a place fit to command the main river, and of strong situation against all manner of enemies.' The position was, no doubt, that chosen by Jacques Cartier the year previous. The following is the description given in Hakluyt of the buildings erected by Roberval: 'The said General on his first arrival built a fair fort, near and somewhat westward above Canada, which is very beautiful to behold, and of great force, situated upon a high mountain, wherein there were two courts of buildings, a great tower, and another of forty or fifty feet long, wherein there were divers chambers, a hall, a kitchen, cellars high and low, and near unto it were an oven and mills, and a stove to warm men in, and a well before the house. And the building was situated upon the great River of Canada called _France-Prime_ by Monsieur Roberval. There was also at the foot of the mountain another lodging, where at the first all our victuals, and whatsoever was brought with us, were sent to be kept, and near unto that tower there is another small river. In these two places above and beneath, all the meaner sort was lodged.' This fort was called _France-Roy_, but of these extensive buildings, erected most probably in a hasty and inartificial manner, no traces now remain, unless we consider as such the mound above mentioned, near the residence of Mr. Atkinson, at Cap Rouge.

"On the 14th September, Roberval sent back to France two of his vessels, with two gentlemen, bearers of letters to the King; who had instructions to return the following year with supplies for the settlement. The natives do not appear, by the relation given, to have evinced any hostility to the new settlers. Unfortunately, the scurvy again made its appearance among the French and carried off no less than sixty during the winter. The morality of this little colony was not very rigid--perhaps they were pressed by hunger, and induced to plunder from each other--at all events the severity of the Viceroy towards his handful of subjects appears not to have been restricted to the male sex. The method adopted by the Governor to secure a quiet life will raise a smile; 'Monsieur Roberval used very good justice, and punished every man according to his offence. One whose name was Michael Gaillon, was hanged for his theft. John of Nantes was laid in irons, and kept prisoner for his offence; and others also were put in irons, and divers whipped, as well men as women, by which means they lived quiet.'