Simultaneously An
Invisible Orchestra, Located High Amidst The Dense Foliage Of Large
Trees, Strikes Up "God Save The King." All Stand Uncovered, In Solemn
Silence, In Token Of Respect To The National Anthem Of Great Britain.
"The magnates press forward to pay their respects to His Excellency
Those who do not intend to "trip the light fantastic toe" take seats
on the platform where his Excellency sits in state; an A.D.C. calls
out, gentlemen, take your partners, and the dance begins.
"Close on sixty winters have run by since that day, when I,
indefatigable dancer, figured in a country dance of thirty couples. My
footsteps, which now seem to me like lead, scarcely then left a trace
behind them. All the young hearts who enlivened this gay meeting of
other days are mouldering in their tombs, even she, the most
beautiful of them all, la belle des belles - she, the partner of
my joys and of my sorrows - she who on that day accepted in the
circling dance, for the first time, this hand, which two years after
was to lead her to the hymeneal altar - yes, even she has been swept
away by the tide of death. [231] May not I also say, with Ossian,
'Why art thou sad, son of Fingal! Why grows the cloud of thy soul! the
sons of future years shall pass away, another race shall arise! The
people are like the waves of the ocean, like the leaves of woody
Morven - they pass away in the rustling blast, and other leaves lift
their green heads on high.'
"After all, why, indeed, yield up my soul in sadness? The children of
the coming generation will pass rapidly, and a new one will take its
place! Men are like the surges of the ocean, they resemble the leaves
which hang over the groves of my manor, autumnal storms cause them to
fall, but new and equally green ones each spring replace the fallen
ones. Why should I sorrow? Eighty-six children, grand-children, and
great-grand-children, will mourn the fell of the old oak when the
breach of the Almighty shall smite it. Should I have the good fortune
to find mercy before the Sovereign Judge: should it be vouchsafed to
me to meet again the angel of virtue who cheered the few happy days I
passed in this vale of sorrow, we will both pray together for the
numerous progeny we left behind us. But let us revert to the merry
meeting previously alluded to. It is half-past two in the afternoon,
we are gaily going through the figures of a country-dance, 'Speed the
plough' perhaps, when the music stops short, everyone is taken aback,
and wonders at the cause of interruption. The arrival of two prelates,
Bishop Plessis and Bishop Mountain, gave us the solution of the
enigma; an aide-de-camp had motioned to the bandmaster to stop on
noticing the entrance of the two high dignitaries of the respective
churches. The dance was interrupted whilst they were there, and was
resumed on their departure. Sir James had introduced this point of
etiquette from the respect he entertained for their persons.
"At three the loud sound of a hunters horn is heard in the distance;
all follow His Excellency in a path cut through the then virgin forest
of Powell Place. Some of the guests from the length of the walk, began
to think that Sir James had intended those who had not danced to take
a "constitutional" before dinner, when, on rounding an angle a huge
table, canopied with green boughs, groaning under the weight of
dishes, struck on their view - a grateful oasis in the desert. Monsieur
Petit, the chef de cuisine, had surpassed himself, like Vatel,
I imagine he would have committed suicide had he failed to achieve the
triumph by which he intended to elicit our praise. Nothing could
exceed in magnificence, in sumptuousness this repast - such was the
opinion not only of Canadians, for whom such displays were new, but
also of the European guests, though there was a slight drawback to the
perfect enjoyment of the dishes - the materials which composed them
we could not recognize, so great was the artistic skill, so
wonderful the manipulations of Monsieur Petit, the French cook.
"The Bishops left about half an hour after dinner, when dancing was
resumed with an increasing ardor, but the cruel mammas were getting
concerned respecting certain sentimental walks which the daughters
were enjoying after sunset. They ordered them home, if not with their
menacing attitude with which the goddess Calypso is said to have
spoken to her nymphs, at least with frowns; so said the gay young
cavaliers. By nine o'clock, all had re-entered Quebec."
When Spencer Wood became the gubernatorial residence, its owner (the late
Hy. Atkinson) reserved the smaller half, Spencer Grange, some forty acres,
divided off by a high brick wall and fence, and terminating to the east in
a river frontage of one acre. A small latticed bower facing the St.
Lawrence overhangs the cliff, close to where the Belle Borne rill - nearly
dry during the summer months - rushes down the bank to Spencer Cove, in
spring and autumn, - a ribbon of fleecy whiteness. To the south, it is
bounded by Woodfield, and reaches to the north at a point opposite the
road called Stuart's road which intersects Holland farm, leading from the
St. Lewis to the Ste. Foye highway. The English landscape style was
adopted in the laying out of the flower garden and grounds; some majestic
old trees were left here and there through the lawns; three clumps of
maple and red oak in the centre of the meadows to the west of the house
grouped for effect; fences, carefully hidden away in the surrounding
copses; hedges, buildings, walks and trees brought in here and there to
harmonize with the eye and furnish on a few acres a perfect epitome of a
woodland scene.
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