Down the River to the Sea Part 10

which Hugh absently hummed in concert with the singers within, setting May again at work on her little romance, the ending of which was so perplexing her at present. But this was only for a pa.s.sing moment; for the presence of these dark hills was too absorbing to admit other thoughts. And now the faintly diffused light of the rising moon, itself still hidden from view, made a pale background for the great bold _silhouettes_, and showed, too, something more of their minor features; and at last the bright silver disk, shorn of something of its roundness, rose clear above the sharply defined edge of a jagged crag, partially clothed with trees. And now the great grooves and seams of the rocks could be distinctly discerned in unrelieved light and shade,--and the dark lines of such vegetation as could here find a foothold, with here and there a cl.u.s.ter of twinkling lights, marking a little centre of human life in the midst of the wilderness. As they advanced, the precipices grew bolder and bolder; one bold profile after another became defined in the moonlight, then opened up new vistas of the sea of hills and precipices which was continually changing its relation to the spectator. And presently Hugh went in to summon the rest of the party to come out, for, far away in the distance, a practised eye could already discern, just touched by the moonlight, the commanding peak and striking triple profile of Cape Trinity. It seemed an impressive and solemn approach to the mighty crag, growing every moment grander and more majestic in the pale radiance of the moonlight. The triple effect, both vertically and laterally, showed more effectively, though less distinctly, the bare-browed cliff looking even more imposing than in daylight,--every scarped crag and splintered pinnacle and barbicon standing out in the sharpest contrast of light and shade. The travellers gazed up at the giant, towering above them to such a height that it made one dizzy to try to follow it with the eye; and so close did it seem impending over the vessel, that they could scarcely realize their real distance from it, till a copper coin, thrown by Mr. Winthrop with all his force, came far short of the rocky wall, and fell into the dark stream below.

Cape Trinity left behind, Cape Eternity began to loom up in lonely majesty beyond--its mighty ma.s.s partially clothed with verdure, and, like the other, idealized in the moonlight. The awesomeness of its grandeur oppressed them with an overpowering effect of dread sublimity, and it was almost a relief when the steamer at last glided away from those tremendous embodiments of nature's savage grandeur, and saw rising before them vistas of a somewhat gentler, though still bold and picturesque type.

But it was now long past midnight, and most of the party, despite interest of the scene, were growing exceedingly sleepy. Mrs. Sandford, indeed, had long ago retired to her state-room, declaring that neither of the two famous cliffs were worth losing the best half of a night's rest for! The rest of the party now followed her example, and as May pa.s.sed through the ladies' cabin to her state-room, she was startled for a moment by seeing the dark forms of a number of sleeping nuns, who occupied the sofas instead of berths. They were doubtless going out from one of the great nunneries on a missionary expedition, and to May it seemed delightfully in harmony with the spirit of the scene.

Nor would it have been at all difficult for her to imagine figures called up from the old days when these dark uniforms were the only civilized female dress in all the region of the Saguenay. She regarded her own simple dark blue travelling dress with a sigh. It certainly was not nearly so picturesque!

May slept soundly enough, notwithstanding the motion of the boat and the creaking of the chains and timbers during the occasional stoppages. But about daybreak she was awakened by the rattling of chains and the confused clatter of voices, and started up in haste, that she might not lose an hour of the wonderful scenery about her. On coming out of her state-room, she was again somewhat startled by the cl.u.s.ter of dark-robed nuns, some of whom were already up, and absorbed in their morning devotions. But she had no time to think much about them just then, for through the cabin window she caught a glimpse of some wonderful granite peaks, touched with the loveliest rose-color by the light of the sun, which had not yet risen above the rugged hills that close in about the crescent curve of Ha-Ha Bay. Calling Flora to make haste to follow her, she stood for a little time at the stern, feasting her eyes on the exquisite solemn beauty of those granite hills thus glorified by the coming day. Then, joined by Flora, to whom the scene recalled her own Highland hills, she hastened on deck to enjoy the full extent of the lovely view around them. They were lying, stranded by the receding tide, near one end of the long bay, which takes its name, according to some, from the surprised laugh of some of the first explorers at finding themselves _cul-de-sac_;--according to others, from their expression of satisfaction at having at last found soundings in this apparently fathomless river. Just above them, now gilded by the level sunlight, rose a rugged height of richly-tinted granite, sprinkled by birch and balsam, at the foot of which cl.u.s.tered the little grey-peaked wooden houses of the tiny hamlet of St.

Alphonse. The piazzas of the summer hotel, and the steep-roofed stone church looked down from the hill-slope beyond the pier, and, far along the sweeping curve of the bay, the gleaming village of St. Alexis shone white on the green sh.o.r.e behind it, long sloping uplands of arable land, while near it a black-hulled ship lay at anchor, the first anchorage for the mariner on this dark rock-bound stream.

One by one the little party had collected on deck, with the exception of Mrs. Sandford, keenly enjoying the loveliness of the hour and scene; and already their fellow-pa.s.sengers were beginning to leave the steamer on various little expeditions, to fill up the hours which they must wait for the turning of the tide--some to drive across the hills or along the sh.o.r.e of the bay; others to stroll along the shining sands and examine the long-stretching weir, composed of interlaced boughs, jutting far out into the stream, which here presents the most fascinating combination of sea-sh.o.r.e and inland river. A little party of long-robed ecclesiastics, whom our travellers had noticed the evening before, in a corner of the saloon, poring over their breviaries, were seen slowly ascending the hill-slope, towards the church, and Hugh suggested a stroll in the same direction, as the hill-slope seemed a good point for observation of the surrounding landscape.

The morning air blew cool and bracing in their faces as they left the pier, the view before them growing grander and wider at every step.

They skirted the hotel grounds, where a few early stirring guests on the piazza watched them with great interest, and soon found themselves at the door of the church, from whence they could command a n.o.ble panorama of hills and river in their cool, pale northern coloring, somewhat warmed by the slanting rays of the early August sun. But when they presently entered the church, the solemn hush of the scene within carried off their thoughts in an entirely different direction. It seemed a large church for so small a settlement, and the fresh and new look, the white and gold decoration, and the robes of the priests, seemed curiously out of keeping with the primitive wildness of the surroundings. The party of ecclesiastics, who, it now appeared, numbered a bishop among them, were there in full force, and a small congregation, including several officers of the steamboat, were already gathered for early ma.s.s. Hugh sat down reverently in the nearest seat, and the others followed his example, and remained there until the short service was completed. It was singularly restful and soothing, and to May and Flora, despite their staunch Protestant preferences, it was a memorable experience. The deep tones of the officiating priest and the solemn chant of the psalms, seemed laden with memories of the days when these same chants first arose in these savage solitudes, from the rude bark chapel or the simpler forest sanctuary, before the wondering eyes of the half-hostile Indians.

As the last chant died away on the ear, it was like awaking from a dream of the remote past, to come out once more on the wide summer landscape lying at their feet, the long line of level sands, the stranded vessel, the still receding tide, the long stretch of gray uplands and dark green hills. But breakfast began to seem a welcome possibility, which quickened the steps of the travellers back to the steamer, where they found Mrs. Sandford in a little flurry of concern about their long absence, and more than ready, she declared, for her breakfast. And after their early rising and their long stroll, it scarcely needs be said how keenly they enjoyed the excellent breakfast of porridge, smelts, salmon, fresh rolls, and excellent coffee--not forgetting the blueberries for which the region is so famous. After breakfast there was still some time before the steamer could move.

Flora hunted up her sketch-book, and went, accompanied by May and Nellie, to make a sketch on sh.o.r.e, while Hugh Macnab and Jack Armstrong, who insisted on coming, too, amused themselves by clambering up the rocky height above them, to see what sorts of plants might be growing among the crevices--for Hugh was something of a naturalist as well as a poet. The others, including Mrs. Sandford, preferred to remain on the deck of the steamer, watching the lumber vessel take in her load, and the swift return of the tide, nearly as remarkable for its speed as is the Scottish Solway, which has furnished the comparison:--

"Love flows like the Solway And ebbs like its tide."

As the girls sat there, a young, pleasant-faced _habitante_ came up to them, followed by two or three tiny children, glad to exchange a word with the strangers, and to offer for sale tiny canoes, which the inexperienced hands of the children had shaped, in imitation of the pretty toy canoes offered for sale at all the booths of French and Indian wares. They spoke no English, and May was too doubtful of _her_ French to try it, but Nellie and Flora opened a conversation with her, to her evident pleasure, for, in so secluded a spot, a talk with a stranger is an event. "Yes," she said, after telling the names and ages of the children; "yes, the summer _is_ very short, and the winter long and cold." But then her husband stays at home, and in summer he is away, working on boats, and that is evidently compensation--for he is "_un bon garcon_." And indeed she seemed a happy wife and mother, for the blessings of life, happily, generally counterbalance its privations. The girls gladly bought the tiny canoes, the "'prentice work" of the little childish hands, and, after an interested inspection of Flora's sketch, and many admiring comments thereupon, they parted--the travellers to return to the steamer, the children and their mother to return to their _cabane_, happy in their little store of silver coins. And now the tide has flowed in, up to the end of the weirs, the scattered pa.s.sengers are collected on board, and the steamer, with screw revolving once more, glides swiftly out of Ha-Ha Bay, leaving behind all its rugged beauty and its primitive, secluded life; and turns up another bend of the fiord, towards the great hill curves that bound the vista. Point after point, bend after bend, succeed each other in bewildering succession, while the travellers feel once more how distinct is the stern sublimity of the Saguenay from the grand beauty of the St. Lawrence. The great, bare splintered crags that rear their grey, furrowed brows to the sky, the endless succession of pine-crested hills, craggy points, dark, deep gorges, and weather-worn and lichen-scarred rocks, contorted by fire and water into every conceivable form, seemed almost oppressive, at last, in their almost unbroken savage wilderness. Here and there green uplands and stretches of softer forest verdure, or sheltered valleys, with little settlements nestling in their laps, or clinging to the sheltering rocks, introduce a gentler tone; but the general impression is one of savage sterility, scarred by the traces of devastation on the fire-swept hills, bristling with dark tree skeletons, and by the sullen darkness of the stream itself. And now and then the sky grew grey, too, as a sudden squall swept down the gorge; and it was easy to a.s.sociate with the wild mountain fiord the strange tales told to the early explorers, and to see in imagination the fur-laden canoes, with their silent, dusky paddlers wending their way down the rocky _canon_, which the river seems to have hewn for itself with such difficulty, from the inaccessible solitudes behind, through the sea of rocks between these and the St. Lawrence.

As they steamed onward towards Chicoutimi, however, which is the real head of the bay, the scenery becomes softer in type, and, amid the rolling uplands, cl.u.s.ter little white villages, each with its guardian church. Chicoutimi, with its fine stone church on the hill, and its sawmill and lumber-yard below, comes into view, as they round one of the numberless points, a place of some consequence in this lumbering country. The steamer stops at the pier, and the little band of _religieuses_ disembark and wend their way to the convent on the hill, while May and Flora watch their black-robed figures and vainly speculate on their past and their future, wondering what routine of duties awaits them here, and whether they are of the same heroic fibre with those who, two hundred years ago, crossed the stormy ocean into exile in this wilderness, in order to nurse sick Indians and teach Indian children their _Pater-Noster_.

As the steamer left Chicoutimi behind, Hugh Macnab and Mr. Winthrop discovered two or three half-breed _voyageurs_, coming down with the luggage, boats, etc., of a party of gentlemen who had been canoeing among the rocks and rapids of the "Grand Discharge" of the Saguenay, in the comparatively untrodden wilds into which no steamer can penetrate, and tracing the dark waters up to their source in Lake St.

John. The swarthy good-humored boatmen were eagerly questioned and cross-questioned by the three young men, till it became clear, to the observant Kate, at least, that they were planning some private excursion of their own, not in the original programme of their party, though at present they all observed an obstinate silence as to any such idea.

Meantime, they all sat dreamily watching the long procession of headland, rock, and hill,--a silver thread of cascade occasionally trickling down the dark precipices, wondering at the variety and effect produced with such apparent sameness of material. But, behold!

a great grey t.i.tan looms up behind a distant headland, seeming to pierce the sky; and the pa.s.sengers, English, American and Canadian, begin to crowd the forward deck, with eager outlook. A little farther, and the vast breadth and height of Cape Eternity uprears its mighty ma.s.s overhead,--its summit seeming lost in the sky, across which great clouds are rapidly drifting. May thought it had looked even grander in the moonlight, which seemed to expand it into infinity; but Hugh and Mr. Winthrop declared that to them it was no less imposing in the clear light of day, which gave it the strength and force of reality.

Scarcely had they ceased gazing in fascination at its mighty ma.s.s, when Kate, pointing triumphantly before them, drew their attention to the still grander headland, the mighty triple profile of Cape Trinity.

And now, just above their heads, as it seemed, that sublime rock was unfolding its triple unity, both vertical and lateral, each way divided into three distinct heads; a far more impressive individuality, they all agreed, than the sister cape. Again came that curious optical illusion of the great precipice towering immediately overhead in close proximity to the boat,--a delusion only dispelled with much difficulty after seeing that the pebbles which the pa.s.sengers amused themselves by throwing at it, fell invariably a long way short of their aim. And a feeling of soul-subduing awe stole over May, as she threw back her head, and tried to scan the entire face of those lofty summits which seemed to rear their grey, weather-beaten heads into the very empyrean! Here and there, a stray bit of vegetation clung with difficulty to a cleft in the rock, seeming to emphasize its ruggedness and stern majesty. But, as Hugh observed, and all agreed, the white statue of the Virgin, placed, by Roman Catholic piety, in a niche of the crag seemed an impertinence, even from the broadest point of view, for surely they felt that grand Mount h.o.r.eb, symbol of Divine Majesty, should have been profaned by no mortal image. Nevertheless, when the steamer slackened speed, just under the precipice, and the sailors in solemn cadence chanted an "Ave Maria,"

there was a pathetic earnestness and an antique, old-world air about the proceeding which was very impressive. What Hugh himself thought of the grand, wonderful bit of nature's architecture, found its way to paper in the course of the afternoon, the lines taking shape in his mind as the too swiftly receding lines of Cape Trinity faded away into dim remoteness, when it seemed to all the party that the central figure, the chief interest of the Saguenay, had pa.s.sed out of the scene. And, after the long strain of attention,--the effort to lose none of the ever-changing grandeur of the shifting panorama,--it was almost a relief when the showery clouds that had gathered so grandly about Cape Trinity, deepened into a leaden grey; and mist and rain began to blot out all save the nearest hills. As they sat watching in somewhat sombre mood the silent procession of mist-laden hills, with here and there a white thread of waterfall trickling down their sides, and the white whales and porpoises splashing in the dark stream below,--the only sign of life in all the great solitude, while an occasional gleam of sunshine, from an opening cloud, threw a golden gleam to relieve the stern aspect of the scene, Hugh was called on for a reading from a volume into which he had been dipping during the day.

It was the copy of Charles Sangster's poems, which he had procured in Montreal, and he willingly gave them a few stanzas from the poet's description of the Saguenay;--the following lines, in particular, seeming to express the very spirit of the scenery about them:--

"In golden volumes rolls the blessed light Along the sterile mountains. Pile on pile The granite ma.s.ses rise to left and right;-- Bald, stately bluffs that never wear a smile; Where vegetation fails to reconcile The parched shrubbery and stunted trees To the stern mercies of the flinty soil.

And we must pa.s.s a thousand bluffs like these, Within whose b.r.e.a.s.t.s are locked a myriad mysteries.

"Dreaming of the old years, before they rose, Triumphant from the deep, whose waters rolled Above their solemn and unknown repose; Dreaming of that bright morning, when, of old, Beyond the red man's memory, they told The secrets of the Ages to the sun, That smiled upon them from his throne of gold,-- Dreaming of the bright stars and loving moon, That first shone on them from the night's impressive noon;

"--Dreaming of the long ages that have pa.s.sed Since then, and with them that diminished race Whose birchen fleets those inky waters gla.s.sed, As they swept o'er them with the wind's swift pace.

Of their wild legends scarce remains a trace; Thou hold'st the myriad secrets in thy brain, Oh stately bluffs! as well seek to efface The light of the bless'd stars, as to obtain From thy sealed, granite lips, tradition or refrain!"

"That is striking poetry," said Mr. Winthrop. "The author deserves to be better known! But the wild legends of the past have not entirely pa.s.sed away. Now and then, one comes across an old legend or story among a set of fellows like our _voyageur_ friends there."

"Yes," said Hugh, "that is one reason why I should like to explore the wilds about Lake St. John! I think one might pick up from our guides some old stories that would be interesting. But I was reading, this morning, a pathetic little legend which is said to be still cherished among the Montagnais Indians, concerning one of the pious Jesuit Fathers, who was wont long ago to minister in that little grey church at Tadousac."

"Oh, do tell it to us!" said Kate and Nellie, in a breath; and Hugh readily complied, telling the tale, in substance as follows:

"One of the most benignant and beloved of these pioneer missionaries was Pere La Brosse, the last of the old Jesuit Fathers of Tadousac, and the story of his 'Pa.s.sing' reads almost like a French-Indian version of the 'Pa.s.sing of Arthur.' Strange, how that wistful, pathetic interest, cl.u.s.tering round the death of the good and gentle and strong, crops up everywhere, among all sorts and conditions of men!

"Well, the story runs, that, at the close of an April day, spent as usual in fulfilling the duties of his pastoral office among his Indian converts, the venerable Father had spent the evening in cheerful converse with some of the French officers of the post. As he rose to leave them, to their amazement he solemnly bade them a last adieu, telling them that, at midnight, he would be a corpse, and at that hour the chapel bell would toll for his pa.s.sing soul. He charged them not to touch his body, but to go at once to the lower end of the Ile aux Coudres, which, you know, we pa.s.sed yesterday, many miles up the St.

Lawrence, and bring thence Messire Compain, whom they would find awaiting them, and who would wrap him in his shroud and lay him in his grave. They were to carry out his bidding, regardless of what the weather might be, and he would answer for their safety. The astonished and awe-stricken party of rough traders and Indians kept anxious vigil, till, at midnight, the chapel bell began to toll. Startled by the solemn sound at dead of night, they all rushed tremblingly into the church. There, as he had foretold, they found Pere La Brosse, lying prostrate before the altar, his hands joined in prayer, and the seal of death on his tranquil face. With awe-struck sorrow, they watched for dawn, that they might fulfil the father's last command.

With sunrise, arose an April gale, but trusting to the promise of one who had won their unfaltering trust, four brave men set out on their appointed errand, in a fragile canoe, breasting the big rolling waves, which, however, seemed to open a pa.s.sage for the frail bark, and, in a marvellously short time, they had reached Ile aux Coudres; and there, as Pere La Brosse had said, sat Pere Compain on the rocks, breviary in hand, ready to accompany them back to do the last offices for the dead. He, too, had received a mysterious warning. The night before, his chapel bell had tolled at midnight for a pa.s.sing soul, and a voice had told him what had happened and what he was expected to do. And it said, moreover, that in all the Missions where Pere La Brosse had served the chapel bells tolled at the moment of his death."

"Well!" exclaimed Mr. Winthrop, "that is a story that _ought_ to be true, _ben trovato_, at least, as the Italians say, if we only had faith enough. One could almost find it in one's heart to believe it here, in these wild solitudes, even in this degenerate, sceptical age!"

"Now, Hugh," observed Kate, "why shouldn't _you_ write a '_Mort de Pere La Brosse_' _a la_ Tennyson? I'm sure it would make a lovely poem."

"Perhaps he will, by and by," said Flora, a little mischievously.

"Meantime, I found in a book of his this sonnet on Cape Trinity. I was sure he was composing something of the kind!"

"Oh, that's not fair!" said Hugh. "That's not revised yet."

But there was an unanimous demand for the reading of it, and under protest, Hugh allowed Flora to read it.

"Thou weather-beaten watchman, grim and grey, Towering majestic, with thy regal brow, O'er all the thronging hills that seem to bow In humble homage, near and far away;-- Even thy great consort seems to own thy sway, In her calm grandeur, scarce less grand than thou Rising, star-crowned, from the dark world below, So lonely in thy might and majesty!

Thy rugged, storm-scarred forehead to the blast Thou barest,--all unscreened thy t.i.tan form, Radiant in sunset, dark in winter storm, So thou hast stood, through countless ages past, What comes or goes, it matters not to thee, Serene, self-poised in triple unity!"

As she finished reading the lines, a rift in the breaking clouds let a rich gleam of sunset through, and they caught a brief glimpse of a distant lofty summit, probably Cape Trinity, glowing out in crimson glory, like a great garnet, set amid the grey mountain curves.

They all watched it silently, till it pa.s.sed out of sight in the windings of the stream. It was a sight to carry away as "a joy forever,"--a fitting parting gleam of the grandeur of the Saguenay.

And swiftly it all fades from sight as the veil of twilight falls once more about them, softening the hard outlines of the iron hills into cloud-like phantasms, while the twinkling lights of Tadousac again gleam out from the s.h.a.ggy cliffs, soon again to be left behind, as they pa.s.s out of the rocky _embouchure_, under the starlight, into the wide reach of the St. Lawrence and cross its wide expanse to the distant sh.o.r.e, where they stop at length at the long-stretching pier of Riviere-du-Loup. This time they disembark, and are soon driving rapidly along the two mile sweep of curving road, with a late gibbous moon rising above the trees, as they approach the straggling environs of Fraserville. They are speedily installed in a comfortable little French inn, with a plain but comfortable supper before them, and a lively group of French Canadians chattering gayly around them in their rapid patois. As it happens, these prove to be a party of musicians, whose music, vocal and instrumental, and gay little French Canadian songs serenade them till irresistible sleep closes eyes more weary with sight-seeing than their owners had before realized.

No one was up very early next morning, for human nature cannot stand perpetual motion. But, as the day was fine, though cool, a carriage was ordered immediately after breakfast and the whole party were once more _en route_, driving over a straight smooth road to the old Riviere-du-Loup, and thence to the n.o.ble waterfall, whose wild picturesque beauty seems close to the little town.

Leaving the carriages, they all walked on by a winding path, till they came to a gra.s.sy spur of the slope, jutting out, as it seemed, rather more than half down, close to one side of the fall. Here, though they could not see the whole extent of the cascade, they could get an impressive view of its volume and beauty, as it came thundering down the dark grey height, clad with dusky pines; so that, looking up to the crest of foliage above, it seemed to come thundering down in snowy spray and foam, out of the very bosom of the primeval forest. To May it seemed almost as grand as _Montmorency_, though far short of it in height. And, like Montmorency, it vividly brought back the memory of incomparable Niagara. The spell of the falling water,--"falling forever and aye,"--had its usual influence on her, and she sat dreaming there, scarcely conscious of herself or the flight of time, while the rest of the party wandered about, surveying the waterfall from other points of view. But at last she was aroused from her reverie by Hugh, who came, despatched by Kate, in quest of her, to bring her down to the foot of the Fall where the others were resting, and where she could see it, as it were, _en ma.s.se_.

She lingered a moment, however, reluctant to leave the charming little nook. "See!" she said to Hugh, as she rose to accompany him down,--"look at those exquisite little harebells, growing so peacefully out of that green moss under the very spray of this rush of foaming water."

Hugh smiled as he looked down at the fragile flower, cradled, as it were, in the midst of the turbulent commotion. He stooped over and picked two of the drooping blossoms carefully, handing one to May, while he studied the other, in its graceful, delicate beauty. "It is an embodied poem!" he exclaimed, as they turned slowly away.

"Then, won't you write out the poem it embodies, for the rest of us to read?" said May, somewhat timidly, and surprised at her own temerity.

"If I can, I will," he replied, frankly. "It doesn't always follow, because one may _see_ an embodied poem, that one can translate it into verse!"

At the foot of the Falls, they all sat for an hour or two, enjoying the comprehensive, though somewhat less impressive view of the whole fall, as it came rushing down the dark gorge, in sheets of silvery foam and clouds of snowy spray. And here, in a gra.s.sy nook, under some trees, they sat for some time watching the Falls, Flora declaring that it reminded her of some of their finest Scottish waterfalls and also of one or two she had seen in Switzerland. Before they left their quiet halting place, Hugh, who had been sitting very silent for some time, handed quietly to May, a leaf from his note-book, on which, with much satisfaction, she read the following lines:--

"Where the great, thundering cataract tosses high Its crest of foam, 'mid thunders deep and dread, A tiny harebell, from its mossy bed, Smiles, softly blue, to the blue summer sky, And the great roaring flood that rages by, In sheets of foam on the grey rocks outspread But sheds a tender dew upon its head.

--Emblem of hearts whose gentle purity, Seeks only heaven in this rude earth of ours; Dwelling in safety 'mid the roar and din Of human pa.s.sion, as in sheltered bowers; Growing in beauty, 'mid turmoil and sin, --Keeping the hue of heaven, like the flowers, Because they keep the hue of heaven within!"

"Oh," exclaimed May, looking up from its perusal, "_that_ is almost just what I was thinking about it, myself, only I couldn't put it into words like that!"

"I'm glad I happened to catch your thought," he replied. "Keep the lines for yourself, if you care for them, in memory of this pleasant day."

"We've had so many pleasant days!" said May,--wistfully,--for she felt that they were fast drawing to a close. And if the young men really took that canoe trip up the Saguenay, their party would be divided during the sojourn at Murray Bay,--their last halting place. But she felt that she could never lose the memory of that delightful journey, and all its enjoyments.

After going back to the hotel for an early dinner, they ordered the carriages again and drove in the soft afternoon sunshine,--now beginning to a.s.sume a slightly autumnal air, over the low, level stretch of sandy road, leading through skirting spruce and cedar, to the long straggling settlement of Cacouna, mainly composed of summer cottages, with its hotels and little church. Most of the cottages are scattered along a high sloping bank, just above the sea-like river, where the bathing, albeit lacking the surf, is almost as good as in the open sea. The Armstrongs had friends residing in Cacouna for the summer, and the party drove directly to their cottage, where they met with a most cordial welcome, were shown all the sights of the vicinity, and finally regaled with "afternoon tea" on the veranda, from whence they enjoyed one of the grand sunsets for which Cacouna is famous, the bold hills on the north sh.o.r.e, here etherealized by distance,--reflecting the glory of the rich sunset sky in the most exquisite tones of purple and rose.

Next morning, the little party took an early train from Riviere-du-Loup, on the Intercolonial Railway, to see the remainder of the river sh.o.r.e as far as Bic, where the Gulf may almost be said to begin, and the river end. It was a charming ride along the high land a little back from the river, yet still occasionally in sight of it, with the grand hills of the north sh.o.r.e looking cloud-like and remote, as they came into view of the beautiful bay of Bic, surrounded by its n.o.ble hills, with its picturesque coves, its level beach, and its wide flats, studded with black rocks. Away in the distance, beyond the tall bluffs which guard the mouth of the bay, and the islands which also protect its harbor, lay the deep blue wooded island of Bic, and beyond that, again, the far distant north sh.o.r.e, looking like a cloud of mist on the horizon. Here they had to stop, for, beyond that, the railway leaves the river to wind its way through the ravines of Metis, and then over the hills to the famous valley of the Matapedia, whose charms, fascinating as they are, were not for the travelers--on this journey at least. They spent a few hours pleasantly at Bic, strolling through its village, set on a plateau high above the beach, or wandering over the flats, where two rivers sluggishly find the end of their journey, and gathering seaweeds among the little pools and rocks, which reminded the Scotch cousins so strongly of their own seaside home. They climbed up some of the gentler slopes of the high rugged hills, to get a still wider view, and to feel the bracing salt breath of the sea come sweeping up the river, while Kate described the beauties of Gaspe, peninsula and basin, and the wonderful Perce rock, which she had once visited on a voyage down the Gulf; and Mr. Winthrop told them of a grim old tradition of the island of Bic,--of a sort of Indian edition of the ma.s.sacre of Glencoe, when a branch of the fierce Iroquois had caught a comparatively helpless band of Micmacs with many women and children, in a cave, and had smoked them out, to meet death if they escaped it within.