Down the River to the Sea Part 8

CHAPTER IV

THE RIVER OF HOCHELAGA.

It was about three hours before the _Corsican_ emerged from the last labyrinth of foliage-clad, pine-crested islands, and came in sight of the little town of Brockville. The banks of the river, as they approached, varying from a high table-land to a low, rocky sh.o.r.e, were lined with summer cottages, where holiday makers were evidently enjoying themselves with a prodigality of hunting and an ample supply of skiffs. Here and there, they came upon a little flotilla of boats, setting out for an all-day excursion, whose pa.s.sengers waved their hats and cheered, as if they had been the first Indians who beheld the white man's "winged canoes." A ferry boat was busily plying up and down, embarking and disembarking pa.s.sengers at the little piers that fringed the sh.o.r.e, and an air of holiday brightness seemed to pervade the scene. There was a short stoppage at Brockville, and then the _Corsican_ was off again, and the last of the "Thousand Islands" were soon left far behind.

It was a still, soft, dreamy August day, and the sail down the calm, broad stretch succeeding was almost sleepy in its tranquillity.

Prescott and its neighboring windmill elicited some historic reminiscences from Mrs. Sandford concerning the time when poor rash Von Schultz held his extemporized fortress against an unequal force, only to be overpowered at last, and to expiate his reckless credulity on a scaffold at Fort Henry, which they had so recently seen.

Then there were the _Galops_ Rapids, and a little later the small Rapid Du Plat, and then the historic a.s.sociations of Chrysler's Farm.

Afterwards the steamer began to heave and plunge as the snowy crests of the great white coursers of the _Long Sault_ gleamed before them, rising like ocean breakers to meet the gallant vessel, which plunged in upon them with almost conscious pride, and rode triumphantly over them with an exultant swaying movement, more like the bounding of a spirited steed than of a piece of inanimate matter. Hugh was delighted beyond expression, and so were May and Flora. It was even grander than either had antic.i.p.ated, and both breathed a deep sigh of regret when the last buoyant leap was over, and the steamer floated, with her ordinary motion, into the calm expanse in front of the town of Cornwall. And now there were blue hills to be seen on the horizon to their right, as they pa.s.sed down the quiet sweep of river, with a few green islands dotting the channel, on which they could catch, here and there, glimpses of summer cottages and camping parties that reminded them of the "Thousand Islands," though with a considerable difference, for here was nothing like the same scope for boating or variety of scenery as in that enchanted region. Then there was the long, sleepy afternoon sail across the wide Lake St. Francis, during which Mrs.

Sandford retired to her state-room to make up for her lost morning slumber, and the three girls drowsed over the books they were professing to read. May had brought out her cherished copy of "The Chance Acquaintance," which she had with her, but had kept in reserve till now, that she might revive her recollections of its fascinating pictures, and enjoy in advance the grey old city, which she had already seen so often in imagination; and was now, at length, to behold with her bodily eyes. As she dropped the book at last, overcome by the sleepy influence of the afternoon, Hugh took it up, and had become much interested in its fascinating pages, when the whistle of the steamer, on arriving at Coteau Du Lac, startled the girls out of their nap, and woke them up, laughing over the oblivion which had swallowed up the last two hours. The little French village of "The Coteau," with its long pier, and the little brown houses and big church, gave the travellers a first glimpse into French Canada, quite in keeping with the spirit of the little book; and the succeeding scenery, growing every moment more picturesque, was to May idealized with a touch of poetry reflected from Mr. Howells' charming little romance. After leaving the Coteau village, they pa.s.sed the short Coteau Rapids, and then the drowsy old village of Beauharnois, with a pastoral landscape of green uplands and bowery orchards behind it,--after which they saw before them, beneath a richly wooded sh.o.r.e, a glittering stretch of interwoven blue and silver. And soon the steamer began to pitch herself forward, as she was swiftly hurried down the rapid incline, past cedar-covered points and islets,--so swiftly that it seemed as if they could scarcely take in the striking beauty of the scene till it had been left behind and the rapid was past. And thus in quick succession they pa.s.sed "The Cascades" with its white breakers glittering in the sun, and the "Split Rock" with its great black jagged boulders, past which they flew like a flash; after which, as the afternoon sunshine began to slant softly on the water, they glided out on the great placid reach of Lake St. Louis. The distant blue range of the Adirondacks had remained on their right for a considerable portion of their way, but now, before them, rose the soft, cloud-like vision,--apparently triple in its conformation, which Kate announced was Cartier's "Mont Royal," at the feet of which lay the city of Montreal. It held their eyes with a spell of fascination as they crossed the lake, growing more and more distinct until they could distinguish its various divisions and the ma.s.ses of woodland that clothed it, and even the large buildings which here and there gleamed out from its darker ma.s.s.

And now they were pa.s.sing the Indian village of Caughnawaga, with its long line of little French-looking houses fringing the sh.o.r.e, while on their left lay Lachine, with the glorious green mountain--a ma.s.s of verdure from top to bottom, rising behind the straggling white village, flanked by its grey stone church and _Presbytere_, while the western sun shed a flood of golden glory over the shining lake. Then came the descent of the Lachine Rapids, the most exciting of all, and the three travellers who saw it for the first time, held their breath as the steamer rushed on, within a hair-breadth, as it seemed, of striking the jagged rocks, that raised their rough black heads above the white breakers. There was not the ma.s.s and the thunder of water of the Long Sault, nor the silvery beauty and rush of the Cedars and Cascades, but the black rocks and ledges that seemed lying in wait, like black monsters, to crush the vessel between their cruel teeth, recalled to Hugh the old fable of Scylla and Charybdis. It was grandly exciting to see the steamer, like a living thing, dart shuddering by them, and rush at headlong speed through the boiling surges, with the long wooded stretch of Nun's Island nestling, as it seemed, amid the tossing waves, while the long spans of the Lachine and Victoria bridges loomed up in front of them, and the bold mountain summits of Bel[oe]il and Boucherville a.s.sumed exquisite violet hues under the magic touch of the rapidly setting sun, which also lighted up the ma.s.sive city before them. There was hardly time to take in the full beauty of the _coup d'[oe]il_ before the steamer was under Victoria Bridge, the height of which they could not realize till they saw that the tall masts could pa.s.s under it without being lowered. Presently they were in the Ca.n.a.l Basin, amid what seemed a forest of masts and shipping, and May, to her delight, could distinguish the great black hulls of some ocean steamers lying in port. The long lines of ma.s.sive grey store-houses and docks also much impressed her unaccustomed eye; but these were soon left behind as they drove rapidly up to the Windsor Hotel, where they were to spend the next day. They were all hungry enough, after their long afternoon in the open air, to enjoy heartily the late dinner in the s.p.a.cious dining-room of the Windsor, with its glittering lights, its long rows of tables and lively groups of guests. After dinner, the girls wandered through the long corridors and sumptuous drawing-rooms, till May, at least, who had never been in so large a hotel in her life, was quite bewildered by all the grandeur. Then they sat on a balcony looking out on the long twinkling ranks of electric lights, contrasting with the silvery radiance of the moonlight, while Kate described to them vividly the glories of a winter carnival she had seen, and the pure white, translucent beauty of the wondrous Ice Palace which had silently risen in the Square before them, and had afterwards, as it seemed, dissolved like a dream, under the gentle touch of approaching spring.

Next morning they were all a.s.sembled at breakfast so early that they had the dining-hall pretty much to themselves. A carriage had been ordered for nine o'clock, as they did not wish to lose any of the bright morning, and they drove for some hours--first, through the old-fashioned French streets, past Notre Dame and the old Gray Nunnery and the Bonsecours market, and the point where the first settlement of Ville Marie was inaugurated, as Parkman has so graphically described it. They looked at the old Bonsecours church, which recalled to Hugh and Flora similar old churches in Normandy, then drove up St. Denis street, past Our Lady of Lourdes and the other ecclesiastical buildings which cl.u.s.ter around it, and finished their morning with a glimpse at the pretty Art Gallery.

After luncheon they again set off, and drove along Sherbrooke Street and through McGill College grounds, inspecting its groups of fine buildings, and through the bosky avenues that run upward to "the mountain," and then up to "the mountain" itself, enjoying the magnificent views, from the Mountain Park drive, of plain and river and distant hills, quite as much as did Champlain, who could not see, even in a vision, the stately city that now replaces the Indian wigwams and maize-fields, which then bore the name of Hochelaga. They ascended to the very brow of the n.o.ble hill, taking in, as they went, the whole sweep of view, from the winding course towards Quebec on the left, to the extreme right, where they could catch a glimpse of the Lachine Rapids, flashing white in the sunshine.

The day pa.s.sed only too swiftly in this pleasant sight-seeing, and they had to be at their hotel for a six o'clock dinner, in order to be ready to leave for Quebec at seven. When at last they drove off, Kate gave the order, "to the Quebec boat!" May heaved a deep sigh of pleasure. It seemed as if her cup was now indeed full.

They found the large double-decked steamer filling up rapidly with parties of tourists, some of them evidently--from their piles of luggage--_en route_ for Murray Bay, or Metis, or some other watering-place on the Gulf. Quebec was to them an everyday affair, and they talked of it in a careless and cursory fashion which to May, with her enthusiastic veneration for its a.s.sociations, seemed little less than sacrilege.

As they pa.s.sed down the smooth winding river, while the twilight was falling, silvered by the brightening moon, Flora began to talk of Mr.

Winthrop, and to express her regret at his inability to come on with them. "It was too bad," she added, "that Hugh forestalled him, in going to Kate's rescue, was it not? I'm afraid he will hardly forgive Hugh in a hurry."

"But Hugh couldn't have waited for him," said May.

"What are you two talking about?" asked Kate, whose ear had been caught by the words, while talking to her aunt and Hugh.

"Oh, we were only talking about poor Mr. Winthrop," replied Flora, "and his vexation with Hugh for getting before him in rescuing you."

"Why should he have _let_ Hugh get before him, then?" she asked.

Hugh looked up with a half-puzzled air; then it seemed as if something had dawned upon him--previously unthought of--and, in a few explicit words, he explained the whole situation, doing ample justice to Mr.

Winthrop. Kate listened attentively, and though she was very quiet all the rest of the evening, May fancied that her face was cleared of a shadow that had clouded it before. She took up May's "Chance Acquaintance" and soon became absorbed in it,--not laying it down till she had rushed through it to the last page.

"Wasn't it too bad," said Flora, "that Kitty sent off Mr. Arbuton like that?"

"_I_ think it was too bad that Mr. Arbuton didn't _come back_,"

retorted Kate. "If he only had done _that_, a few days after, Kitty would have forgiven him and he could have made a fresh start."

"I feel sure that he _did_, in the end," a.s.serted May, dogmatically.

"I mean to write a sequel to it some day!" and then they all went off to their berths.

The three girls were up almost by daylight in the morning, watching the brightening sunshine flush the red rock of Cap Rouge, and then the gradual unfolding of the river panoramas as they pa.s.sed headland after headland, each opening a fair, new vista beyond. Soon a glittering church steeple gleamed out from the southern sh.o.r.e, rising protectingly over white villages nestling at their feet. Curving recesses of the wooded bank, outlined by one long, picturesque French village street, followed the bend of the sh.o.r.e to the left. "That is Sillery," said Kate, in reply to May's eager enquiries.

"Oh," said May, "that is the place where the old Jesuit residence was,--that Kitty and Mr. Arbuton went to see."

After the point of Sillery was rounded, there rose, at last, before their delighted eyes, the historic grey rock of Quebec, with its mural-crowned rampart and bastions, and the houses and convents and great churches of the old city climbing up its sides or rambling along the plateau at its foot.

"Oh, that is the citadel!" exclaimed May, breathless with delight.

"And that is Dufferin Terrace, with the straight line of railing and the little pavilions," explained Kate, while the grim old grey houses above them recalled to Hugh and Flora memories of the old French towns they had seen abroad. As soon as they could disengage themselves from the bustle and confusion of the crowded quay, Kate, who had declared that a _caleche_ was as much "the thing" in Quebec as a gondola in Venice, signalled to two _caleche_ drivers, and the junior members of the party were soon perched on their high seats, while Mrs. Sandford and the luggage went up more comfortably in a commonplace cab. As they rattled over the rough pavements and through the tortuous narrow streets, which--as Kate remarked to Flora--"are just like Europe, I'm sure," they drove up Mountain Hill, pa.s.sing the spot where Prescott Gate used to be of old, and catching a glimpse of the Basilica, or cathedral, _en route_. They clattered rapidly over the hard paved streets of the upper town, and drove, to May's delight, through a ma.s.sive old gate with deep, round arches, which the smiling driver announced as "Porte St. Jean." Just outside it they pa.s.sed a little French marketplace, and then, after pa.s.sing one or two crowded streets, they were finally set down in front of a tall, three-story stone house with a red door.

The travelers were, of course, expected, and received with kind courtesy by their hostess, Mrs. Dale, who took them at once up two flights of stairs. "If they _are_ high, they have the better view,"

she said, smiling. And so they had. The girls broke out into exclamations of delight, as they gazed from the old-fashioned open windows. In front they looked across streets and houses to the _glacis_ of the Citadel, crowned by its line of ramparts, and could follow, for some distance, the city wall without. The back window commanded a glorious picture. Across a dusky ma.s.s of brown, steep-roofed houses, only half lighted up yet by the morning sun, they looked out on a green, undulating champaign country, flecked with patches of deep green woodland, and little white villages cl.u.s.tering here and there round their great church spires; while, for background, rose a grand range of hills, stretching far away in interminable blue vista--all grey and violet in shadow and silvery blue in the sunlight, as the morning mists drifted away, and a wandering sunbeam caught and glorified a tiny white hamlet nestling in the folds of a wooded hill.

Just where the sunbeams straggled away into the green country a silver stream wound glittering in the sun, making a bright loop round a point, on which, amid some trees, stood a large stone building.

"That is the St. Charles, you know," explained Kate, "and there, where you see it twisted like a silver loop, is the place where stood the first mission house of the Recollets, and the Jesuits afterwards."

"Oh!" said May quickly, "I know! Notre Dame des Anges, was it not? So _that_ was the place where they had their thatched log cabin and where they used to be half frozen in winter, when they were trying to learn the Indian language from their interpreter, while their biggest wood fires could not keep them warm, or their ink from freezing!"

"And, just a little farther down is the place where they suppose Jacques Cartier laid up his ships, when he first came; as you were reading to us the other day, Hugh."

"Ah, and so that is the place where they went through so much suffering, that terrible winter, when the ships and masts and rigging were all cased in ice, like ghostly ships at the North Pole, and when the cold and the scurvy were killing them off so fast, that it seemed as if none of them would be left to see the spring. How they must have welcomed its coming at last!"

Then Kate pointed out the green, low-lying meadow beyond the St.

Charles, called _La Canardiere_, because wild ducks used there to abound, and their eyes followed the long white line of the village of Beauport, running between the grand Laurentian hills and the green slopes that edged the blue St. Lawrence, studded with white sails, and winding away between the Island of Orleans and the northern sh.o.r.e; while, far down the high river bank, they could just distinguish the dark purple cleft of the Montmorency Falls. But they were presently reminded that breakfast was waiting, and, after their early start they were quite ready thoroughly to enjoy the fresh rolls and eggs and delicious raspberries and cream, while they planned their day's sight-seeing, so as to accomplish the utmost that could be done in the hours before them.

They determined first of all to scale the Citadel, taking Dufferin Terrace on their way. They went round by the new Parliament buildings, entering the city by the St. Louis gate, with its new Norman towers and embrasures. Kate, to whom the place was familiar of old, grew indignant over the ravages made in the solid old fortifications just outside the walls, and thought the fine new Parliament buildings did not by any means make up for it. "One could see new buildings any day, but that wasn't what one came to Quebec for," she remarked. They pa.s.sed by the Esplanade and the winding ascent to the Citadel, and the sedate old-fashioned houses of St. Louis Street, and the little steep-roofed wooden cottage near the hotel, now a saloon, where once lay the body of the brave Montcalm. Presently they came to the "Ring,"

as the old _Place d'Armes_ is often called--the scene, as May reminded them, of so many interesting events in the old French _regime_.

"For there, you know," she said, "the gate of the old Chateau St.

Louis fronted the square, and here there used to be state receptions of the Indians, when treaties were concluded; and here, too, they let the poor Hurons build a fort when they had been almost exterminated by the Iroquois."

Hugh was much interested, as they pa.s.sed on, in the sight of the old Chateau near the shady walks of the Governor's Gardens, and in the monument erected to the joint memory of the two brave heroes, Wolfe and Montcalm. And then they came out on the long promenade, now known as Dufferin Terrace, and stopped to take in the magnificent panorama, the wide river, with the picturesque heights of Levis immediately opposite, and the crowded shipping below; and then, immediately beneath them, they looked down into the depths of the Lower Town at their feet, in which May was eager to discover the site of the old "_Abitation_" of Champlain.

"I think it was just about where the Champlain Market is now," Kate replied--"that open s.p.a.ce with all the market-carts of the _habitans_, and all the people doing their marketing."

Then they gazed down into the narrow alleys of Little Champlain Street, with the tall, grimy houses that rose up just below them, which, as Flora said, reminded her so much of some of the old "wynds"

of Edinburgh; and were shown the little old church, "_Notre Dame des Victoires_," which played so important a part in the early history of Quebec. May could have remained all day dreaming over these old historic a.s.sociations, nor did Hugh Macnab seem much inclined to tear himself away from the fascinating scene. But Kate was determined to keep them up to "schedule time," and she and her watch were relentless, so they reluctantly tore themselves away, being promised a still finer view from above, and mounted a long steep stair rising from the end of the Terrace. They could not resist the temptation of looking around from time to time as the view widened at every step, till at last, drawing a deep breath, they stood at the top of the _glacis_ and gazed at the superb view around them, the closely built Lower Town, the forest of shipping, the steamboats darting to and fro, the opposite heights, fringed with steep-roofed, balconied houses and sprinkled with distant white villages creeping up their receding sides, and large, stately convents peeping out of cl.u.s.tered and embosoming trees; while just beneath their feet a black ocean steamer was getting up her steam to sail away down the great river to the sea.

Walking back along the _glacis_, they reached the winding ascent to the Citadel, which they followed, between its high stone-faced banks, till they reached the ancient, curiously-woven chain gates, said to be impregnable, and leading into the wide green ditch. Then they pa.s.sed through the ma.s.sive portals of Dalhousie Gate, with its guardrooms and casemates built into the solid walls on either side, where the warlike-looking sentries politely saluted the ladies and put them under the charge of a soldier guide. He led them first across the wide court-yard to the King's Bastion by the flagstaff, from whence they could feast their eyes on such a view as May, at least, had never seen before. All about them lay the city, mapped out with its walls and ramparts, its church towers and steeples; at their feet, far below them, the Terrace on which they had been recently standing; and below that again, the grim old town, the docks and shipping and flitting boats diminished to the size of playthings; then the green heights opposite, and the bold blue outline of the Isle of Orleans, and the calm broad river stealing silently away through the vista of distant hills. It seemed like a dream that held them in its spell, till the French soldier, to whom the view was an every-day affair, shrugged his shoulders and said, "_allons_."

They continued their walk past the Officers' Quarters, in one of which was the Governor General's summer residence;--past the magazine and stables, where many little dogs were playing about, and came out at last on what they thought the most glorious view of all,--that from the Prince's Bastion, so called, because a Prince's feather, carved in stone on the wall, marks the spot where the Prince of Wales once laid his hand when visiting Quebec. From it they could see, far away to the south, rank after rank of distant blue hills, some of them in Maine and Vermont. To westward they could follow the river till it was hidden behind a green projecting point which shut in the Bay of Sillery, while away to the west and north stretched a long succession of blue hills, with white villages gleaming among their wooded sides, amidst which, too, they could trace the silvery ribbon of the St.

Charles, winding its way down out of the shadowy recesses of the distant mountains.

The travellers found no words adequate to express the delight awakened by the glorious picture, and gazed on in silence, while light mists floated away from the summits of the hills, and sudden glints of sunshine gave them an added touch of glorious beauty.

But they could not stay there all day, and all too soon they turned away from the beautiful picture, which they would often hereafter see before the inner eye; and returned along the walls, past little piles of cannon b.a.l.l.s and gun-mounted embrasures, till they came down again into the court-yard and the wide, green ditch, on the slope of which sleek cows were peacefully grazing, close to the now harmless guns.

Whither should they go next? They would just have time, Kate said, to take in the Basilica and the Ursuline convent before luncheon.

Thither, accordingly, they went, meeting long-robed ecclesiastics and bright-eyed academy boys in their trim gray uniforms;--pretty French nurse-maids and British orderlies, hurrying along laden with packages of official papers, all just as it had been described in "A Chance Acquaintance." The Basilica, or great French Cathedral, they found rather disappointing within, for the impression of ma.s.siveness made by the exterior seemed incongruous with the gaudy white and gold of the interior decorations.

"It seems rather out of keeping," said Hugh, a little discontentedly, "with what one reads of its history, in those stormy old times, when the French colonists used to come here to pray for deliverance from Iroquois raids, or to offer up thanksgiving for some timely succor."

"But you know, it has been rebuilt more than once since those old times," said Kate; and May tried to recall in imagination the great bare-raftered building of those old days, and found much satisfaction in the high porcelain stoves at the entrance, which gave a "foreign look" to the building at once.