  It is undoubtedly best to approach Quebec by way of the south shore; the city, as is generally known, being on the north side of the St. Lawrence. Whether coming from Montreal and the south-west, or St. John, Halifax and the east, the Intercolonial Railway brings the traveller to the most convenient point, LÉvis, immediately opposite Quebec. Here, taking one of the ferries, and with a seat under the awning of the upper deck, a splendid view is had of the further shore as the steamer makes its way across the river. No need to ask, “What place is this?” or “Is this Quebec?” Such a question would be absurd, for here in all its grandeur is the great St. Lawrence River, there clusters Quebec around the grim old rock, and yonder, high up, where proudly floats the flag of empire in the active breeze, is the King’s Bastion, with the old citadel, the ChÂteau Frontenac and all the spires, peaks and towers that make this place like an ancient picture from the Old World. What a delightful experience it is to look upon sights and scenes that are novel and beautiful, full of charming local color, and permeated with that atmosphere of grandeur and power that quickens the pulse and causes the thrill of emotion to telegraph its way through the nerve centres. As soon as Quebec is approached it becomes immediately apparent that it is rich in all those things that excite human interest; and if the opinion of others is needed, the testimony of that galaxy of the great, famous in geography, literature, science and art—that long procession of renowned men and women that has taken its way hither in unbroken pilgrimage through the past centuries—is all based on the one majestic keynote of wonder, admiration, reverence and love for all that Quebec typifies for the people of two hemispheres. How pleasant to sit and view the magnificent prospect up and down the noble river, and see the great mountains that tower In fancy we see the Henrys, the Edwards, Good ‘Queen Bess,’ James, poor Charles, the sturdy Lord Protector, Cromwell, and all the long line of crowned heads whose history is woven in with that of Eastern Canada. And then the French King Francis, the two Henri, and the four Louis, with Champlain, Jacques Cartier and Frontenac; the noble missionaries who came here to teach the savage Indians—murdered, or burnt at the stake for their devotion; the great captains, including England’s Nelson, the brave soldiers down to Wolfe and Montcalm, and since; the Norman and Basque peasant settlers, the coureurs du bois, the buccaneers, privateers and adventurers; all these have figured in Quebec’s remarkable history. A bump at the landing dock recalls us to the present, and as we step ashore it is with reverence akin to that which we feel when standing under the towering Norman greatness of Durham Cathedral, or when in the sacred precincts of Westminster Abbey where lie buried the genius and achievement of centuries. And now Quebec is reached, and some of the things that will ever be in mind after this memorable visit are now before us; and weeks of happy experiences are about to unfold their treasure to our admiring gaze. There is no better way of understanding and appreciating what the old city holds in store than that of first rambling about in every direction on foot. With occasional car trips and with a drive now and again in a caleche, the plan of the city and its environs becomes gradually clear. The sight of the quaint streets and of the many old features that are so novel on the new continent will be enjoyed because seen without guide or premeditation. The process known to our English cousins as ‘knocking about,’ which is to saunter where you will, on foot and without haste, is the best way in Old Quebec. It is on foot that terrestrial things are seen intimately, and when we have made a dozen ‘rounds’ of the lower town, walked along the ramparts again and again, rambled in the Of the general appearance of Quebec it will be enough to quote from the words of three of its famous visitors. Thoreau wrote: “I rubbed my eyes to be sure I was in the nineteenth century.” Dickens recorded: “The impression made upon the visitor by this Gibraltar of America, its giddy heights, its citadel suspended, as it were, in the air; its picturesque, steep streets and frowning gateways; and the splendid views which burst upon the eye at every turn, is at once unique and lasting;” while Henry Ward Beecher set down these as his impressions: “Curious, old Quebec!...... of all the cities on the continent of America, the quaintest...... We rode about as if we were in a picture book, turning over a new leaf at each street!” A brief survey of the history of New France, or Eastern Canada, is a necessary preliminary for the full enjoyment of all those things for which Quebec is famed. Commissioned by Henry VII. of England, Cabot sailed west in search of a route to China and India, and discovered America. This new land he set down as the coast of China. The discovery was not immediately followed up by further exploration or settlement, and not until the year 1534 did Jacques Cartier, the St. Malo navigator, make a voyage of discovery for the French sovereign Francis I. The intrepid sailor succeeded in reaching the western continent, or New France, and landed at GaspÉ, where he erected a cross with an inscription on it claiming the country for the King of France. Winter approaching, he made his way home again. Before leaving he had entrapped two natives, and these he took with him as evidence of his success. In the year 1535 Cartier made a second western voyage, and this time he sailed up the great river which he named the St. Lawrence. At that time the fish were so plentiful that the progress of The native Indians were also seen, in canoes, hunting seals and catching white whales. Alarmed by the approach of the strange men in their marvellous vessels, the savages paddled off with haste; but on being addressed in their own tongue by the two returned captives on Cartier’s vessel, they abandoned their flight and returned to gaze with astonishment and child-like wonder at all they saw. Cartier was informed of the existence of an Indian village of considerable size at Stadacona, quite near to Quebeio or Quelibec, and there he met the great chief Donnacona, the ‘Lord of Canada.’ There is no complete agreement on the origin and meaning of the name ‘Quebec.’ Some have traced its derivation from the word ‘Kepek,’ the aboriginal equivalent for ‘come ashore,’ supposed to have been addressed to Jacques Cartier when he hove-to near Stadacona. Others have surmised that it sprang from the exclamation of a Norman sailor on first seeing the great cape—“Quelbec!” (“What a cape!”) Again, the Abenaquis word ‘Quelibec,’ meaning ‘narrowing’ or ‘closed,’ is supposed to be the real derivation; while a very strong claimant for recognition is the Indian word ‘Kebeque,’ which means ‘a narrowing of the waters.’ Learning of another large native village on the St. Lawrence, a considerable distance above Stadacona, Jacques Cartier determined to proceed there with one of his vessels. The chief Donnacona, a shrewd old savage, did not favor further penetration of his domains, and calling to his aid some of his tribe dressed as ‘devils,’ he hoped to frighten the bold navigator with the frightful whoopings and noisy invocation to the demons who were supposed to inhabit the forests. Cartier pushed on, however, and leaving his vessel near the place now known as St. Maurice, and proceeding in the ship’s boats, reached Hochelaga, the site of the present Montreal. The village was circular in form, with The impression made by the advent of the white-faced men from another land had a pathetic side; for the diseased and blind were carried out from their rude shelters in order that the great White Chief should cure their infirmities by the ‘laying on of hands.’ But alas! the white man was not divine—and the poor Indians were consoled by presents of hatchets, knives and beads, etc., followed by the thrilling sound of a ‘flourish of trumpets.’ During Cartier’s absence a fort and winter camp had been constructed at Stadacona by his men, the site of which may be seen on the River St. Charles. Cartier gave the name of Mount Royal to the mountain overlooking Hochelaga village, and this name has survived in the Montreal of Canada’s commercial capital. Early next Spring Cartier, and all the remnant of his band that survived after a severe attack of scurvy, sailed for France. A serious blemish in Cartier’s character is shown by the record of his having carried off by force—torn from their homes and country—poor old Donnacona, ‘Lord of Canada,’ and other chiefs. They died in captivity, far from their kin, and with the sad memory of their great river and noble forests ever with them to the end. Cartier returned to New France a third time after some five years; but the seed of distrust was sown in the minds of the natives by the absence of their stolen chiefs, and it was not long before the fruit of hatred and strife developed and gradually grew until it steeped the country in continual war and bloodshed. Cartier again set out to proceed up the river to Hochelaga, but finding the natives had been warned and were becoming hostile he turned back to Stadacona. He eventually returned with Roberval to France, and died in his native St. Malo about the middle of the sixteenth century. It is interesting to learn that Roberval’s titles were Viceroy and Lieutenant-General of Canada, Hochelaga, Saguenay, Newfoundland, Belleisle, Labrador and Baccalaos. France was now seeing stormy times in her home affairs, and no well-directed effort was made to follow up Cartier’s work—although other explorers and fur-traders crossed the stormy seas in their endeavor to make a settlement in the New World. QUEBEC
At last the brave and capable Champlain sailed from Harfleur in 1608, and reached Stadacona or Kebec in safety. Here at the foot of the rock where the quaint street Sous le Fort has since been made, a settlement was laid out which Champlain called ‘l’Abitation de KÉbec,’ and which consisted of three lodgings and a store-house, all fenced in and surrounded by a ditch. Champlain made several trips to France, each time bringing back missionary-priests and settlers. He built, a fort on the height above his ‘Abitation,’ on the spot where his statue has since been erected. The little colony commenced to grow, and soon numbered some fifty people. And now began the troubles that were to shake the infant settlement, rumblings of more desperate encounters, for a hostile British fleet arrived, and Quebec was compelled to capitulate. Champlain again sailed for France, where he remained until Charles I. of England gave back Quebec to King Louis. The founder of Quebec at last, returned to the beloved home of his adoption, where the work of building had to be done a second time—fire having destroyed both ‘Abitation’ and fort, as well as other buildings. With energy and skill, supported in the main by the love and esteem of his fellow colonizers, Champlain toiled on; his noble character showing in all he did. To keep on good terms with the neighboring Algonquins and Hurons he took part in their struggles with the fierce Iroquois, and penetrated inland as far as the Georgian Bay and southern shore of Lake Ontario. The greatest vigilance was now more than ever necessary, for the savage Iroquois crossed the great lakes in their war canoes, came down the St. Lawrence and lurked in the woods, ever ready to cut off and scalp the French when found in small numbers. In addition, the inexperienced Colonists were quite unprepared for the severe winters, and they were often on the verge of starvation. Other serious troubles came. The British appeared in naval force, and again Quebec capitulated—Champlain being taken to England as a prisoner of war. The political kaleidoscope now took another turn, and Quebec was once more given back to France by Charles I. of England. For the last time Champlain again returned to Quebec, this time as governor, and his customary energy was shown in all that related to the welfare of the colony. In the fulness of time, rewarded by the success of his labors and beloved by his fellows, the great man breathed his last. He is justly considered to have been the ablest and best of all the early explorers and governors. The new governor Montmagny was a worthy and capable man. He greatly improved Quebec and commenced the stone construction of Fort Saint-Louis. It is interesting to note that during his incumbency the Jesuits built their college. It was commenced in the year 1638, which makes it the oldest institution of learning in North America, antedating Harvard College by one year. A few years after this the ChÂteau Saint-Louis was built within the walls of the fort. Frontenac next ruled the destinies of Quebec with a firm hand. Excepting Champlain he was perhaps the ablest governor, although his character was marred by arrogance and sell-will. He, perhaps better than any, understood how to hold the Indians in check. The brave d’Ibberville ably seconded the aggressive governor during his second term of office—recalled to stem the victories of the Iroquois and to repel the threatened attack on Quebec by a British fleet. This fleet arrived and anchored off the Isle of Orleans. To the haughty summons from Admiral Phipps, to surrender within an hour, came the proud reply of Frontenac, “It is through the mouth of my guns that your general will hear my reply.” The attack was a failure—so well did the guns talk. After that the able Frontenac strengthened the defences of Fort Saint-Louis to such an extent as to convert it into a real citadel. Towards the close of the seventeenth century Frontenac passed away. The troubles of Quebec were not by any means ended. A great army and fleet under the British Admiral Walker was sent out to reduce and occupy Quebec. In going up the St. Lawrence River during a dense log, a number of the transports were wrecked on Egg Island. More than a thousand men were drowned. This calamity saved the threatened city, for the officers of the expedition became disheartened and abandoned the project. Governor’s Garden, Quebec As a sequel to that terrible loss of life in the great outer waters of the St. Lawrence there has survived one of those traditions of which the story of ‘The Flying Dutchman’ is the prototype. In the words of Moore: “There lieth a wreck on the dismal shore Of cold and pitiless Labrador Where, under the moon upon mounts of frost, Full many a mariner’s bones are tossed. Yon shadowy bark hath been to that wreck And the dim blue fire that lights her deck Doth play on as pale and livid a crew As ever yet drank the churchyard dew. To Deadman’s Isle in the eye of the blast, To Deadman’s Isle she speeds her fast; By skeleton shapes her sails are furl’d, And the hand that steers is not of this world!” The Treaty of Utrecht brought peace to France and Great Britain in a division of the land for which they had contended. It was agreed that Canada, Isle Royal (Cape Breton) and l’Isle St. Jean (Prince Edward Island) should belong to France; while Great Britain received Nova Scotia, Newfoundland and the Hudson Bay Territory. In the succeeding years the two countries again drifted into war, and by the year 1759 it was apparent that Quebec was once more to be attacked. Before the year was half over, a British fleet bearing 18,000 men dropped anchor near the eastern end of the Isle of Orleans. Troops were landed to the east of Montmorency River, and batteries were erected there and at Point LÉvis opposite Quebec. A bombardment lasting two months soon followed. The ensuing land struggle, known as the battle of Montmorency, brought face to face the two great leaders, Montcalm and Wolfe, upon whom France and Britain respectively depended in the contest for supremacy on the North American continent. Wolfe was studying his plan of attack, and making feints in several directions to confuse the enemy. Finally on the last day of July the British troops forded the Montmorency River, and with the guns of the fleet shelling the enemy’s trenches the attacking force made a concentrated rush on the western bank to carry the position by assault. The French were well placed, and the plan of defense was excellent. The lines had previously been strengthened at every favorable attacking point by the able general Montcalm, and he had a picked reserve at hand ready to hurl it in whatever direction it should be most needed. The British lost heavily, and Wolfe abandoned the attack in that direction and recalled his troops across the river. This trial of strength was the prelude to more serious work. Wolfe, weakened by illness—and against the counsels of his officers who were almost unanimous that the siege should be abandoned—persisted in his determination to reduce Quebec. More than a month passed by before new plans were perfected, but at last towards the middle of September a new assault was commenced. Soon after midnight the boats of the British stole quietly along the Sillery shore under cover of the darkness. In the foremost boat was a Highland officer who spoke the French language. “Qui Vive!” rang out the challenge, as a sentry detected the shadowy boat making inshore. Fortune surely favored the British, for the Scotchman had no difficulty in passing himself off as a French officer in charge of a detachment bringing expected supplies for Quebec. Some of the boats had drifted further east beyond the inlet now known as Wolfe’s Cove. Here what had always been regarded as an impossible ascent was found practicable by the sturdy mountain-climbing Highlanders. Swarming up the unprotected height they immediately overmastered the scattered sentries, captured in his tent the sleeping officer in charge, and sent back word to General Wolfe that the ground was clear. The troops were disembarked at once, and the dawn of day revealed the British lines on the Plains of Abraham, their right wing extending to the heights and their left on the St. Foye Road. Montcalm was not aware of the momentous occurrence until the heights had been occupied in force. His troops were at Beauport, Soon after ten o’clock on the bright September morning, Montcalm advanced impetuously to the charge. Down the ravine the French rushed, the formation of the ground causing some confusion. They stopped to re-form within a few hundred yards of the advancing British, but ere they could climb the hill a frightful volley, hitherto held in reserve, now wrapped the advancing host in a death-flame that caused terrible havoc. Montcalm was in the forefront, heroically urging forward his wavering troops; while Wolfe on the right of the British advance was in the thick of the deadly fray. A bullet struck the British general on the wrist. It was hastily bound with a handkerchief. At the head of the Louisbourg grenadiers he pressed eagerly forward, when he was struck a second time and dangerously wounded. His bright uniform made him a mark for every sharpshooter. And now a bullet entered his breast. He staggered. Alas! the wound was mortal. “Support me,” he hastily cried, “my brave men must not see me fall.” He was carried to one side and laid on the grass. “A surgeon!” cried a grenadier officer. “It is useless,” faintly uttered the gallant Wolfe, “I am done for.” He was gradually lapsing into unconsciousness. “They fly,” came eager comments from the sad group surrounding the dying general. “Who?” quickly uttered Wolfe, arousing himself by one last, painful effort. “The enemy!” came the glad reply, “they are yielding in every direction.” Wolfe immediately gave the important order to speed to the St. Charles River, capture the bridge and thus cut off the enemy’s retreat. He turned on his side, and, as he murmured, “the Lord be praised, I die in peace!” his dauntless spirit The ‘Great Commoner’ of England, William Pitt, has well said: “The horror of the night, the precipice scaled by Wolfe, the empire he with a handful of men added to England, and the glorious catastrophe of contentedly terminating his life where his fame began ........Ancient story may be ransacked, and ostentatious philosophy thrown into the account, before an episode can be found to rank with Wolfe’s.” On the French side the gallant Montcalm in vain tried to rally his retreating forces. The path of defeat led him towards the gate of Saint-Louis, but ere he could enter he was twice wounded. He was assisted inside, but his injury was soon seen to be mortal. To those around him weeping the brave Montcalm spoke: “It is nothing, kind friends; pray do not weep over me.” When told by the attending surgeon that he had only a few hours to live, he replied, “I am glad of it, I shall not see the surrender of Quebec.” Before morning his earthly struggles were over. Subsequent efforts to retake Quebec from the British failed, and ere long it was seen that the ‘Battle of the Plains’ was final in its results. The monument to Wolfe on the Plains of Abraham is erected where the great general breathed his last; while the joint memorial to Montcalm and Wolfe, erected in the Governor’s Garden overlooking Dufferin Terrace, fittingly marks the great struggle that has joined two races in one empire of happy union and effort. As the coming centuries go by, this battle will not only rank equal to that of Waterloo in importance—it will far surpass it on account of the momentous bearing it will have on the future of the British Empire and the progress of the world’s true civilization. Time passed on, and in the troublous days of the American War of Independence the much-tried city of Quebec was destined to besiegement for the fifth time in its history. This time the attack came from New England; a daring one it must be admitted, for the whole of the invader’s forces were brought over the Kennebec and ChaudiÈre Rivers in the face of many obstacles. Arnold and Montgomery, after a siege of two months, planned to capture the citadel by a bold, surprise attack. Sous le Fort Street, Quebec The defense, however, was an alert one, and when Montgomery advanced with his force—as he thought, unawares—and was almost within the walls, a frightful volley was fired in their very faces. This discharge killed the revolutionary general and many of his followers. The others fled. Nor was Arnold more successful, although he escaped with his life; a life that if there ended, like Montgomery’s, would have terminated more gloriously for the able but misguided American than did his after years. Many prisoners were taken, the remainder escaped and returned to New England, and the siege was raised. Since then no alarm of War has been heard in Old Quebec; and although the War of 1812 brought suffering to many parts of Canada, none of the various struggles came nearer than Montreal. The foregoing outline is intended to provide some knowledge of historic events as an aid to the appreciation of scenes, incidents and sketches in connection with people and places that have been prominent in bygone years. All such details now follow in the description of those parts of the country to which they properly belong. One of the first things to claim the visitor’s attention will surely be the fortifications of the city. Because these are unique and peculiar to Quebec, not being found elsewhere on the American continent, they command the greater interest. Leaving out of consideration their many picturesque features, the fact that they represent in all the glory of almost perfect preservation a system of defense that is centuries old, and that here—one of the few such places in the world—we may tread on the undisturbed spot and in the very streets and houses where great, stirring events have taken place, gives a never-failing and absorbing interest to the outer walls and inner places of Old Quebec. The advent of heavy ordnance on disappearing carriages, or in wrought-iron turrets, the strength given to concealed batteries through the use of smokeless gunpowder, the improvement of harbor defense by the use of mines, torpedoes, submarine boats and electric light, and the imminent use of aerial explosives; all these have united to sound the knell of the old style of fortification. The day of the hand-to-hand conflict has almost gone by, and probably we may never again read of assault and repulse at outer walls, never hear of the carrying of outer defenses, of the desperate struggle from one inner defense to the other, or of the last glorious stand around the colors on the bastion or keep. No! for man fights now more with If the old days and ideas are gone, and the picturesque defenses of moat, rampart, bastion, keep and inner stronghold will never again be constructed, how important it is that we should admire and enjoy to the full their splendid survival in Quebec, before the lapse of time and the inevitable encroachments of modern city life shall destroy these dearly beloved monuments of the past. The Citadel, Fortification Walls and Gates of Quebec now invite examination. Starting from the convenient point where stands Champlain’s monument, near the ChÂteau Frontenac, do not forget that a fort was first constructed by Champlain on the very spot where the monument now stands; and that Montmagny replaced the wooden walls of his predecessor with substantial stone work. Frontenac extended the defensive lines considerably, and added forts and bastions. Later the fortifications were again extended and solidified under a comprehensive plan drawn up by the great Vauban. Damaged by sieges, and imperfectly repaired from time to time, the important stronghold was often neglected; but at the end of the eighteenth century the present works were finished by the English. The plans were approved by the ‘Iron Duke’ himself, and the construction cost an enormous sum. The solid stone facings, the batteries behind the glacis, the loopholed walls that seem strong enough to defy everything but dynamite, the ditches, gateways, underground passages, magazines, etc.; and all the accessories of a great defensive system are present. Even during their first construction by the French so much money had been required that Louis XIV. once asked if the fortifications of Quebec were made of gold. The citadel covers about forty acres, and access to it is gained by the solid Dalhousie Gate. There is also a great chain gate. The soldiers’ quarters are well protected against gun-fire, and the more important buildings are bomb-proof. The view from the King’s Bastion is one of the most beautiful it is possible to imagine. The Royal Canadian Garrison Artillery have their quarters in the barracks within the citadel. They muster a strength of from three to four hundred men. By means of the halyards of the flagstaff on the King’s Bastion, from which floats the ‘Union Jack,’ two American prisoners once escaped after they had succeeded in drugging the sentry. The height above the river is 350 feet, and a look over the bastion at the drop below will show the daring nature of the venture. Great guns command all the landward approaches. The waterway can also be swept by powerful cannon, while on the LÉvis side of the river are strong batteries that dominate the river and both shores. The Governor-General’s residence is on the Citadel Square, and not far away is the interesting Artillery Museum. That portion of the defenses known as Grand Battery is at the eastern end of Dufferin Terrace, on the edge of the cliff that runs from the top of Mountain Hill towards Palace Gate. Here a number of guns are disposed in crescent form. In addition to this, and not counting those in the citadel, the following batteries may be seen: Assembly, Half-Moon, Hope Gate, Montcalm, Nunnery Nos. 1 and 2, Wolfe’s Grand Battery, and, finally, two that are smaller and unnamed. The ponderous old gates that gave security to those within the citadel walls no longer exist. In French days there were three of these: St. Louis, St. John and Palace. The two gates added by the British in later days have also disappeared. These were known as Hope and Prescott Gates. What a pity that, all five were not allowed to remain as they were! What an irreparable loss! Walking around the ramparts and beginning with the picturesque modern gateway or arch that stands where stood the former gate whose name, St. Louis, it bears, it will be well to remember that the old gate was venerable with age. It was built in the year 1694. Through this outlet sorties must frequently have been made against attacking Iroquois, and through this gate the brave and dying Montcalm with many of his soldiers passed into the city after the defeat on the Plains of Abraham. The handsome arch with its graceful Norman spire, now known as the St. Louis Gate, is mainly due to the keen interest that Lord Dufferin took in all that related to the improvement of Quebec. Proceeding north along the ramparts, Kent Gate is reached. No gate existed here in olden days, and the cut in the fortifications was made necessary by the desire for increased traffic facilities. The effect of the structure is a pleasing one, and considerable interest attaches to it because it is a memorial to Edward, Duke of Kent, Just a short distance north is the site of the old St. John Gate. There is now neither gate nor arch here, but the portal demolished was as old as the St. Louis Gate. In Montcalm’s day the old gate swung open to allow some of his defeated troops to pass in, and it was against this gate that part of the American effort was directed in the futile attempt of 1775. There are no remains of the old gate on the busy Palais thoroughfare that leads from St. John Street, down towards the River St. Charles, nor has any memorial tower been erected yet to mark the site. The street took its name from the palace or residence of the French intendants, and the ruins of that building may still be seen at the foot of the hill. The old Palais Gate had many memories attached to it, and it withstood frequent attacks from besieging foes. The comparatively modern gates of convenience, Hope and Prescott, have both been demolished in the demand for unobstructed streets, but it is proposed to some day mark their sites by suitable memorials. Hope Gate was on the north side, while the Prescott Gate commanded the steep Mountain Hill on the eastern water front. Champlain’s ‘Abitation’ was near the foot of Mountain Hill, but right out on the water. The place where he landed in 1608, and from which the founding of Quebec dates, was about two hundred yards to the south-west, where King’s Wharf now is. Champlain’s Old Fort, stood on the very spot where now stands the fine monument to his memory as founder of Quebec. Close by, on the site now occupied by that magnificent hostelry, the ChÂteau Frontenac, once stood the ChÂteau St. Louis, in which Champlain, Frontenac and Carleton successively lived. The cellar of the former building still remains under the terrace platform. The Old Fort extended back and included what is now known as the Place d’Armes or Ring. The old ChÂteau St. Louis was once the seat of a power that ruled from the Mississippi River to the Gulf of St. Lawrence. It was destroyed by fire in the year 1834, and thus was lost a priceless relic of the past. The unsurpassed view from Dufferin Terrace and the pretty retreat known as the Governor’s Garden are the magnets that compel instant admiration from all comers. Every resident of Quebec is justly proud of the Dufferin Promenade. It is the very heart of its social and recreational life. In a ramble, or by taking a car along the Grande AllÉe, the martello towers erected about a hundred years ago may be seen, and a little further west is the shaft erected to the memory of the immortal Wolfe. Near these towers there were several fierce struggles when the British advance came that way—Wolfe lying mortally wounded only about a quarter of a mile distant. The monument to Wolfe marks the spot where he died. He received his fatal wound a few hundred feet nearer the city, but was carried back here to breathe his last in comparative peace. His body was interred in the family vault at Greenwich, England, a national memorial of him was erected in Westminster Abbey, and by special proclamation a day of thanksgiving for his great victory was appointed throughout the British Empire. It is well worth while to extend the walk west to Wolfesfield, for on the riverside is Wolfe’s Cove where the British landed in 1759; and the difficulties of the steep and narrow path up the face of the rocky height, and the midnight ascension to fame, and death, will come vividly to mind. The “Monument aux Braves” on the Ste. Foye Road may be reached by the St. Louis and Belvedere Roads. Here was fought the Battle of Ste. Foye between the French and English under De LÉvis and Murray respectively. Murray was defeated. It was a sanguinary conflict, for over four thousand brave dead are here buried. The struggle brought no advantage to France; it was evident by this time that the British were too firmly rooted to release their hold. A very interesting monument is that to Wolfe and Montcalm in the Governor’s Garden near the ChÂteau Frontenac. The English translation of the Latin inscription is: “Valor gave them a common death, history a common fame, and posterity a common monument.” This beautiful dedication is surely an evidence of that happy union of French and British that has resulted in the enlightened and practically independent Canada of to-day. The brave Montcalm was buried in the Ursuline Convent, and here may be seen the French and British monuments to that gallant general. General Montgomery, who fell in the American attack on Quebec, was buried in a small enclosure near the ramparts by the St. Louis Gate. The British consenting, his remains were removed to New York after an interval of over forty years, and were interred in St. Paul’s Church there. A tablet with the inscription, ‘Here Montgomery Fell, Dec. 31, 1775,’ now marks the scene of his death. The tablet to ‘Her Old and New Defenders’ who ‘unitedly guarded and saved Canada’ by defeating Arnold, should by no means be overlooked. It is placed on the Molson’s Bank near the Sault-au-Matelot where the barricade then stood that was so ably defended. The last of Quebec’s great historic monuments is that to Jacques Cartier on the way to Lake Beauport, to the left of the Charlesbourg Road, and about a mile from the city. Here the St. Malo navigator wintered in the year 1535-6, built his first fort, and erected a large cross inscribed with the name of King Francis I. and bearing the royal arms of that ruler. Here was also erected a few years later the first Jesuit monastery of New France. There yet remain to be seen four monuments of general interest. The first, that to Queen Victoria in the Victoria Park over the St. Charles River; the second, to Bishop de Laval near to the Post Office; the third, on the Grande AllÉe, to the memory of Short and Wallick, who lost their lives in the work of checking the great fire of 1889; and the Soldiers’ or South African Monument, which stands on the Esplanade, close by the St. Louis Gate. This last monument was erected by the citizens of Quebec to the young heroes who lost their lives defending the British flag in the Boer War. On a tablet is inscribed: “Not by the power of commerce, art or pen, shall our great Empire stand; nor has it stood, but by noble deeds of noble men— heroes’ outpoured blood.” A walk along the Grande AllÉe, and on St. John and St. Valier Streets will be rich in interest. Palace Hill, too, and the old streets of St. Paul and St. Peter are full of character; while in the cluster of old-town streets, alleys and passageways that extend from below the eastern ramparts to Little Champlain below Dufferin Terrace, the visitor will find the quaintest sights the new world has to show. Mountain Hill, Sous-le-Fort and Sous-le-Cap are streets the like of which may be seen nowhere out of Quebec. St. Louis Street, the Esplanade and St. Roch’s will repay close intimacy and examination. Sous-le-Cap Street, Quebec In a ramble that has for its object an inspection of the chief public and historical buildings of the city, the ruins of the Intendant Bigot’s old palace claim attention. They are at the foot of Palace Hill and are now used as ale and porter vaults. Bigot was a high-placed scamp of the worst description. The times in which he lived were somewhat loose, but even then he excited much unfavorable criticism by living with a woman to whom he was not married. One evening he got drunk, a not infrequent event with him. Stumbling homewards he lost his way in the woods, where he slumbered away some of his drunken stupor. Unfortunately for her a pretty French-Algonquin maiden was passing when he awoke. He saw and admired her, and like more than one of the royal masters of France he built a bower for his Caroline in the woodland depths. It is claimed she was his unwilling prisoner. The Intendant’s pseudo wife soon learned she had a rival hidden away somewhere. Driven mad by jealousy she stealthily followed the unsuspecting Bigot and found his retreat. She returned to the city and said nothing, but soon after that a scream aroused the Over the Post Office there is an effigy known as the ‘Chien d’Or,’ or ‘Golden Dog,’ which has excited much interest on account of its enigmatical inscription, a translation of which here follows: “I am a dog gnawing a bone, While I gnaw I take my repose. The time will come, though not yet, When I will bite him who now bites me.” The stone tablet bearing this effigy and inscription was originally in the walls of the old house owned by one Philibert, which house formerly stood on the post office site. When the old house was demolished, the tablet was saved and incorporated in the new building. A story of murder and revenge appears to be connected with the strange inscription, but like most of the old traditions it is a matter of dispute. Kirby’s ‘Golden Dog’ gives one version that makes interesting reading. A beautiful maiden of Quebec was nearly the cause of closing the naval career of the great Nelson. Had it not been for the interposition of a true friend, the young sailor, who visited here in the Albemarle, man-of-war, at the outset of his great and glorious life, would probably have been lost to England, and Trafalgar would have been unfought. Fortunately the insane determination of the young sailor to stay and woo his inamorata, and abandon his ship when it was ordered to India, was overruled by Davison, his true friend. Whether persuasion or bodily force brought about the result, after Nelson—having said ‘good-bye’ to his distinguished and lovely young sweetheart—secretly stole ashore again, is uncertain. What is known is that he was persuaded to adhere to his duty—and the world knows the sequel. The Parliament Buildings are on the Grande AllÉe, and a splendid view of the fine pile may be had from almost any point, so well chosen is the site. From the main tower of the building the grand view of the superb surroundings should be seen. The interior corridors and chambers are very attractive, while the bronze groups and heroic Spencer Wood, with its leafy, winding roads and shady avenues, is at the extreme western end of the city’s suburban extension, not far from Wolfe’s Cove. The delightful, old roomy mansion to be seen there was formerly used as a Governor-General’s residence. It is now occupied by the Lieutenant-Governor of the Province. The ChÂteau Frontenac stands on a site of such prominence, and commands such a glorious view, that few places in the world may compare with it. The delightful architectural presentment of all that is picturesque and graceful in old-time buildings, carries us easily back to the fourteenth century, and even to prior times. From its turrets, dormers, pierced towers and hundreds of windows a prospect meets the eye that is uplifting and irresistible in its appeal to those who love that rare combination, man’s work at its best and nature in her grandest mood. The panorama of the great river carrying its proudly floating ships to and from the ocean, the LÉvis shore, the citadel, the terrace with its ever-varying throngs, the old town away below in the giddy depths, the mountains, the distant country dotted with its white houses, the fleecy clouds, the shimmering haze and the far away perspective of varied beauty; all these make a picture upon which the gaze may be intently turned, without weariness, again and again. As is befitting, the plan of the structure is irregular, and, in the olden way, the principal entrance is through an interior court of considerable size. The ChÂteau is built of Scottish brick and grey stone, roofed with copper. Over the main entrance is a shield bearing the arms of Frontenac who lived in the old ChÂteau St. Louis—as did Champlain and others—that stood on this very site. In plan it is more homelike and comfortable than the usual palatial hotel, and there is an absence of the customary annoying rush, public promenading in corridors, etc., found in the large hostelries of the American continent. In fact the general plan is that of a Laval University is famous for its treasures of art and splendid library. It has a fine picture gallery and museums. A beautiful and extended view of the surrounding country may be had from the promenade on the roof of the building. In the smaller seminary adjoining were confined the American officers who were taken prisoners at the time of Arnold and Montgomery’s attack on Quebec in 1775. The buildings contain many things of interest for the general visitor, and here a whole day may profitably be spent. The Ursuline Convent, Hotel Dieu, and Cardinal’s Palace are also places of great interest. In the chapel of the convent the remains of the brave Montcalm are interred. Here may be seen the monument erected to his memory, bearing an inscription prepared by the French Academy. A second memorial, erected by Lord Aylmer, has an inscription of which the translation reads: “Honor to Montcalm! The Hotel Dieu, or hospital, is the oldest institution of the kind in all America. It was founded in 1689 by the Duchess d’Aguillon, who was a niece of the great Cardinal Richelieu. Some of the oldest houses in Canada originally stood in this locality. The Hotel Dieu contains some very excellent paintings and valuable relics of the early Jesuit missionaries who were martyred by the Indians. While in Quebec read the story of this terrible martyrdom, and learn what incredible suffering was endured by those brave men who assisted in opening up the heritage we now enjoy so complacently. The Cardinal’s Palace at the crest of Mountain Hill Street is worthy of a visit to inspect its fine apartments and reception chamber. The English Cathedral and the Basilica are the two principal churches of the city, although there are, of course, many other churches well worthy of a visit. On the site where now stands the English Cathedral formerly stood the ancient church and convent of the RecollÊt Fathers. The last survivor was pensioned by the British Government. He was well known for his wit. It is recorded that he was once asked if he knew that a priest had arrived in town who was noted for his appreciation of the good things of the table, but who, ever ready to be a guest, never entertained others. The good old Father replied. “I saw him to-day, ‘going about seeking whom he may devour.’” The Cathedral contains splendid monuments, a fine chancel window and a silver communion service of exquisite design and superior workmanship. It was a present from King George III. What is frequently seen in Europe, but rarely in America, is the decoration of a church interior with old battle-torn regimental flags, and here the former colors of the 69th British regiment are draped over the chancel. In the Cathedral enclosures once stood a precious elm under which Jacques Cartier is believed to have assembled his followers on their first arrival in this part of Canada. It was blown down over a half-century ago. The treasures contained in the Cathedral will be appreciated by all who wish to understand Quebec and its past. The Basilica is venerable with age, dating back to the year 1647. Two years previous to that, twelve hundred and fifty beaver skins had been set aside to commence a fund for the building of this Cathedral. Although it has suffered much from fire and siege, the foundations and parts of the walls are those of two-and-a-half centuries ago. Champlain’s ‘Chapelle de la Recouvrance’ was in the rear of the Basilica, and traces of its walls are still visible. The edifice contains many beautiful paintings and it is also rich in memorials of great historic value. In fact many of the works of art seen here are almost priceless. Rare gifts from the ‘Grand Monarch,’ Louis XIV. may here be seen; and the building contains enough of interest to occupy a good portion of a rainy day. Many pleasant spots are in the immediate neighborhood of Quebec, and some that are also intimately connected with events Indian Lorette may be reached by carriage, or by a short run on the Quebec and Lake St. John Railway. The country through Charlesbourg is very pretty, mountainous and splendidly wooded. There is a grand fall of water at the Indian village where the Lorette courses along a romantic bed and dashes madly through wild and rocky gorges. Huge masses of stone have fallen from the cliffs, and in places small trees have gained a foothold on the apparently bare tops of these rocks. They often assume odd forms, and particularly so when they grow sidewise from the perpendicular clefts in the face of the rocky banks. The bottom of the gorge is rugged and striking. Huge table rocks slant upwards, and the torrents of water dashing against them rear up and pass over or around the obstructions. The volume of water precipitated over the fall is very great, and the whole scene as the eye follows the river bed is most striking. It is a novel experience to stand or sit on a ledge fronted by a huge boulder in the middle of the narrow channel or gorge. The Lorette gaining here in depth rushes down with great force, and as the river is deflected it rises up a seething pillar of water, so that, at only arm’s-length the curious sight may be viewed. Nearly everyone feels the fascination of a waterfall like this, with its ever-changing form and merry, boisterous song. The romantic descent into the ravine is something to be remembered—nothing could be wilder or so touched with Nature’s art. Just above the village is the ChÂteau d’Eau, from in front of which the water is conveyed by conduits to Quebec. The scenery on The Hurons live in the Indian village. They are industrious and peaceable, carrying on the manufacture of snowshoes, moccasins, and basket work, etc. In the height of the summer a good number migrate to the populous resorts of Murray Bay and the Lower St. Lawrence. There is a fine view to be obtained by going up the eminence on which stands the attractive French village of Lorette. Lakes St. Charles and Beauport, the Jacques Cartier River, Lake St. Joseph, and the river Ste. Anne are all delightful objectives, and they are within convenient reach of the city. Quebec is fortunate in the possession of beautiful environs, and at Montmorency Falls there is a spectacle of grandeur that in itself is worthy of a pilgrimage of hundreds of miles to behold. Montmorency is about eight miles from the city, and it may be reached by carriage over the St. Charles River and by way of Beauport, or by the electric railway. The cataract has a fall of over 250 feet. The roar of the waters, the fascination of the billowy masses of white foam, and the rainbow-like play of colors in the dashing spray all hold the spectator spellbound. A fine general view is obtained from the station of the electric railway; but no adequate conception of the real grandeur of the sight may be formed until the view is taken from the observation platforms. A full descent should be made to the bottom of the steps that have been provided, and the view should be seen from the upper platforms or terraces as well. The piers of the old suspension bridge are still standing near the brink of the falls. The bridge gave way and swept to destruction a farmer and his family who were driving across at the time. Another good view of the falls may be obtained by crossing the Montmorency Bridge to the park on the eastern side of the river. The natural steps in the solid rock of the river bed, about a mile above the falls, are no longer visible since the height of the river at that point has been much increased by the dam below. They were hewn out by the action of the rushing water of past centuries. While they were visible thousands of people were attracted there to wonder over the strange sight. The Fairy River nearby should also be seen, and a walk through the fields to the power-house will bring a reward in the grand view of towering rocky banks and the bridal-veil of water that falls over the height. STE. ANNE DE BEAUPRÉ
Near where Montmorency village stands was fought the first battle between Montcalm and Wolfe, this engagement being the prelude to the great attack on Quebec that resulted in the death of both illustrious generals and the permanent addition of Canada to the British Empire. Governor Haldimand’s fine old mansion, the Kent House, where the Duke of Kent once lived, is now a delightful hostelry of that ideal kind where a semblance of home life may be enjoyed amidst restful and picturesque surroundings. There is a glorious view in every direction from the breezy highlands, and no one should miss the picture of Quebec seen from this vantage ground. The Falls of Montmorency have not the breadth or extent of the celebrated Falls of Niagara. Their height, however, is much greater; and the rural and picturesque environment, as well as the graceful and lofty character of the waterfall, combine in a splendid prospect that has no equal anywhere. Of the pleasant recreations in and about Montmorency, the Zoological Gardens maintained by Holt, Renfrew & Co., of Quebec, afford never-ending occupation for young and old alike. The numerous animals, etc., are well arranged for purposes of observation, and the interesting collection shows animal life in a way that is sure to bring many hours of enjoyment to those who ramble along the pleasant paths that have been laid out in various directions. Everyone has heard of Ste. Anne de BeauprÉ, the quaint and medieval village, some twenty miles from Quebec, where the celebrated Church of La Bonne Ste. Anne is situated to which pilgrimages are ever being made by the faithful, and which is so full of interest and local color for those who merely go there to enjoy a pleasant excursion. If an early riser, it is a good plan to take the electric limited train, known as the “Fast Pilgrimage,” at 6 a.m. This train stops first at the Church of La Bonne Ste. Anne and discharges nearly everyone of its passengers at the pretty little park-station in front of the church. The train then runs on a few hundred yards to the village of Ste. Anne de BeauprÉ, where that particular run terminates. Those The Church of Ste. Anne presents a fine appearance, both within and without. The style of architecture is very pleasing, and the church stands in the midst of beautiful and well-kept surroundings. The interior, with many quaint decorations and numerous little chapels, is especially interesting, while a never-failing attraction for all is the huge pile of crutches and other appurtenances of bodily suffering or infirmity that have been thrown away by their happy owners who, it is stated, were miraculously cured here after making their devotions at the shrine of the celebrated Ste. Anne. There is so much that is novel to be seen here—indeed it is the only place of the kind in the whole continent—so much beauty in the surroundings, and so much of the grandeur of nature everywhere, that he whose heart is not actively stirred must be too dead and inert for the wonderful appeal to move him. With no stretch of the imagination the district may be called American Alpine, and almost equal to the Swiss Alps in real interest. In fact this is an older civilization, and all the accessories of race, customs and manners, and country lend themselves naturally to the production of the strangest effects. What quaint narrow streets are here; and see the overhanging balconies at almost every story of the foreign-looking houses that are placed at the foot of the steep hills, nestling close to them. Almost every building in the village is a hotel, restaurant, or store for the sale of relics, curios, novelties and souvenirs. Everything contributes to the general fete or holiday-like appearance of the place. In addition to the constant stream of visitors coming from Quebec, etc., by electric trains, special trains arrive at LÉvis and Quebec that come from all parts of the provinces, quite frequently. Sometimes as many as four and five trainloads will be here in one day—all brought out to the church by the comfortable electric cars. There is no better way of seeing the beautiful valley of BeauprÉ than by walking from the Church of Ste. Anne to the village of St. Joachim, a distance of something less than five miles. The high mountain-sides are liberally wooded with noble trees to near the roadway, where banks that are clear of wood slope more gradually, and not too steep to climb with a little effort. The daisies are so profuse in many places that the effect is nearly like that of a snowstorm. Particularly so where the young orchard is springing up, the spaces between the rows of trees being quite white. No country could be richer in waterfalls of all sizes, from the precipitous and mighty fall of Montmorency down to the dashing cascade that starts out from the mountain side. In some places they may be heard but not seen, until in looking beyond the road a tiny stream is seen to be making riverwards, and further examination reveals a charming fall in some leafy copse on the other side of the road. The tones of these waterfalls, cascades, rivulets and springs are musical, grateful and soothing to ear and spirit beyond the power of words to describe; while the water, sparkling and clear, is pure and refreshing to the thirsty wayfarer. Wildflowers are very prolific, sweet-scented and a constant joy to the eye. “In the cool and quiet nooks, By the side of running brooks; In the forest’s green retreat, With the branches overhead—” will be found the iris, violet, trillium, water lily, and, at times, delicately colored orchids; while crowning the neat white fence of many a humble cottage festoons of trailing roses gladden the way. There is a pleasant walk at ChÂteau Richer, up to the mill by the bend of the rippling RiviÈre À la Puce. The still water above, the So precipitous are the mountain heights hereabouts, and so well wooded, that although there are houses on the very brinks above the roadways, nothing can be seen of many of them from below save chimney tops and curling wreaths of smoke. A near view of the chimneys shows them to be of generous size, and in appearance like the old-fashioned stoves or ranges with the lids off—the orifices, however, being oblong, and not round. Bake-ovens of huge proportions are often found in the gardens, under the protection of a few boards to give shelter to the cook from rain and sunshine. Owing to frequent subdivisions of the farms, as sons grew up and had a strip allotted to them by their fathers, some of the fields are so narrow that there is barely room to allow a horse and plough to turn. All along the road the prevailing feature is the Alpine-like scenery, the towering heights and the white houses nestling in the mountain side at dizzy heights. Many houses are approached from the road by steps and a narrow walk between two habitations. On the next rise the same rule prevails, and so on up to the highest point. There is seldom an attempt at a hill-side street—it would be useless, because impossible to ascend without steps. A substitute for steps, however, is sometimes found in a sloping pathway that passes obliquely from the front of one house to the rear of the next, and so on until it reaches the top. The old manner of laying out or planning a house still prevails. The kitchen generally runs the whole length and breadth of the house—often a kind of half-basement effect is seen, open in front on the road, but closed entirely by the hill behind. Here cooking, washing, spinning, sewing and the general household work of the industrious habitants is carried on, and here is where dinner is generally served. The whole activity of indoor life centres here; and so much was this the case in one house that a dog and five puppies occupied the hearthstone, a cat sat in the window nipping the green leaves of a plant, and a playful pet lamb frisked about unrebuked while four people were in the midst of preparations for serving the dinner. The houses are generally of substantial construction, and capacious barns are a noticeable feature in passing along the country side. Montmorency Falls Riviere Ste. Anne A favorite trip for those living or staying in Quebec is that on the ferry steamers to the Isle of Orleans, originally called Isle de Bacchus by Jacques Cartier on account of the rich clusters of grapes that lined its shores when he cast anchor near. The island was occupied by Wolfe at the time of the fall of Quebec. There are many summer residences here, and it is a favorite place in summer for many who like to enjoy the cool river breezes. The Falls of the ChaudiÈre, not far from the railway junction of that name, should be seen by everyone coming anywhere The river has a considerable width and falls gently over the dam in a long line of silver. Passing then towards its lower channel it falls beautifully in two, and sometimes three, cascades into the depths below. There is a great volume of water in motion, and the swelling sound of the roaring and foaming plunge makes pleasant music. A climb down into the deep channel is very novel, and the additional views thus obtained are quite striking. Here is slate enough to supply schoolboys the world over for many a century to come. There is a good foothold, when once in the river bed, on the inclined and shelving stratification; and by going to the edge of the principal fall, the war of waters against rock may be seen in all its intensity, and, in addition, the seething depths below will cause a shudder as the full meaning of the word ChaudiÈre, “the cauldron,” comes to mind. The country is beautiful and well wooded. There is a charm in the whole view when seen from the high bank from under the shade of the noble trees: it can never be forgotten. Enough has not been made of this district and all that it contains. It has been overlooked in the wealth of beauty that surrounds Quebec. It is so easily reached from either Quebec or LÉvis that everyone should include the ChaudiÈre in their round of beautiful sights. Nothing could be more enjoyable on a fine day than to take a luncheon and enjoy a picnic in the fine woods by these famous falls. It was by the valley of the ChaudiÈre that Montgomery came from New England when he made his disastrous attempt on Quebec. Instead of returning to Quebec by steamer or railroad, the electric car to St. Romuald and LÉvis may be taken. The Church of St. Romuald is one of the most important on the whole St. Lawrence River. It has some magnificent paintings, fine altars and choice wood carving. As the car speeds along, the freshness of the verdure and the bright gold of the buttercups will call for notice. It would be impossible to toss a cent out of the window without causing it to lodge in one of those gorgeous yellow cups. Nature asserts her sway over man’s inroads, for the railway embankments are covered with beautiful parterres of purple, white, yellow, and blue blooms, with here and there a cluster of rich, wild lupine. No more beautiful country could be found, and the view of the great St. Lawrence, the village-capped heights, the gentle sloping mounds nestling for protection under the shelter of the high mountain chain, and the romantic cuttings through the chain of hills nearby—all these make a strong appeal to lovers of the beautiful. The little river running off to the south-east is the Etchemin, and in it there is a pretty waterfall. Scenes in the Militia Camp at LÉvis From the opposite shore of LÉvis one of the finest views of Quebec may be had. In fact, for miles up and down the south shore some of the grandest standpoints for extensive views may be found. The massive forts at LÉvis, auxiliary to the fortifications of Quebec in the general scheme of defence, are worth seeing. It was from the LÉvis heights that Wolfe’s artillery destroyed Quebec previous to its capture. The three solid structures that now constitute a strong line of defence are said to be very similar to the celebrated forts of Cherbourg. The Government Graving Dock is well worth a visit, especially at a time when a large vessel is docked there; for by descending the steps, walking along the bottom and then looking up at the great mass above, some adequate idea may be formed of the huge proportions of the modern “leviathan of the deep.” Too much cannot be said of the grandeur of scene, the beautiful wood and dale, and the extensive panorama of country to be viewed from the vicinity of the Engineer’s Camp at St. Joseph de LÉvis. The characteristic and charming view of the Montmorency Falls, with the beautiful St. Lawrence in the foreground, should be seen by everyone. A military camp for general drill and evolutions is held here every summer, and in an amphitheatre of finely-wooded hills and gentle slopes running down to an almost level campus or plain, the citizen soldiers have ample room for comfortable quarters and extensive operations. On a recent occasion six regiments of militia were encamped here, the 17th, 18th, 61st, 87th, 89th and 92nd. No better spot for the purpose could well be imagined. The tents on the slopes, open at the side for the air, and disclosing tastefully-grouped flags and other interior decorations, were all well placed to take advantage of shade and other natural advantages. In the officers’ quarters were mess tables comfortably placed in an annex or wing. The tents of the men gradually reaching down and on to the margin of the plain, the groups amusing themselves, preparing for the afternoon muster, fixing and cooking rations, etc.; and the orderlies and others passing from group to group all made a busy picture. An impromptu concert was in progress on a shady knoll where an artist on the accordeon Group of Officers, Militia Camp, LÉvis The energetic Colonel-Commander and his efficient aides had plenty of work before them in conducting the evolutions, and the men—many of whom were doubtless in camp for the first time—did very well indeed. And now the band formed, some regiments closed up their ranks, formed columns and marched off up the slope for skirmishing and outpost drill; while lower down other troops going through manual drill sent gleams of light from their gun barrels into the dark fir trees as the sun’s rays were deflected with brilliant effect. That persistent waving of flags on yonder distant knoll has its explanation in the corresponding signals that are being transmitted across the width of the broad amphitheatre from the edge of a clump of maples just behind us. Colors were to be presented to one of the regiments, and a preliminary drill was being held for that occasion on the morrow. The ceremony, a very impressive one, takes place in the centre of a hollow square, the troops facing in; and to the imposing and patriotic strains of the national anthem the colors are unfurled. To write that a peregrination through this whole country is beautiful and inspiring is to feebly express the charm of it all. The pleasure, too, of spending a day in the field with our citizen soldiery in the midst of such magnificent and heart-stirring scenery is great; and it brings a satisfaction and uplift to the mind that should cause thousands to visit this neighborhood. Those who sojourn in Quebec, whether for weeks or months, will find no want of varied amusements. There are walks too numerous to mention where wild flower, the song of the bird and the music of the gushing rill and rocky fall enliven every step of the way. Boating may be carried on almost everywhere, and canoes may be placed on dozens of waters that are either quiet or rippling; according to choice. The interior lands of this district are the very best for hunting purposes; and many of the larger rivers are splendid salmon waters. In all of the surrounding streams and in the pure waters of the adjacent lakes lovers of trout fishing will find ample occupation and unstinted reward. Motor-boating, automobiling, golf, tennis, and all the sports of the field may be enjoyed here to their full; while as a centre or starting place for railroad and steamboat trips and tours in every direction Quebec assuredly takes first place. Murray Bay River decorative border
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