A Succession Of Drawers Contain The Nests And Eggs, Scientifically
Labelled, Of Many Canadian Species, And Of Some Of The Most Melodious
Songsters Of France And England; Pre-Eminent Stands The Italian,
French And Devonshire Nightingale And Its Eggs.
Our time was much too
limited to allow us to treasure up all the anecdotes and theories
anent birds, their mysterious spring and autumn migrations, their
lively memory of places, so agreeably dealt out to us.
We cannot,
however, entirely omit noticing some curious objects we saw - the tiny
nest of a West Indian humming bird male out of a piece of sponge, and
he cubiculum of a redheaded woodpecker, with its eggs still in
it, scooped out of the decayed heart of a silver birch tree, with the
bird's head still peering from the orifice in the bark. Here, as well
as in the library, the presentations were numerous: Col. Rhodes was
represented by a glossy Saguenay raven. I listened, expecting each
moment to hear it, like Poe's nocturnal visitor, "ghostly, grim and
ancient," croak out "nevermore!"
The late Hon. Adam Fergusson Blair, once a familiar of Spencer Grange,
was remembered by some fine Scotch grouse, ptarmigan and a pair of
capercailzie, in splendid feather, brought from Scotland. A good
specimen of the silvery gull, shot at Niagara Falls, was a gift from
John William McCallum, Esq., now of Melbourne, E.T. - an early friend
of our friend, whilst a very rare foreign bird (a Florida or glossy
ibis), shot at Grondines, had been contributed by Paul J. Charlton,
Esq., a Quebec sportsman. What had brought it so far from home?
At the bead of the grave, omniscient owls, like the foreman of a grand
jury, stood a majestic "grand duc," the largest owl of the Pyrenees,
resembling much our Virginian species, - a donation from a French
savant, Le Frere Ogerien. The owls have ever been to me a deep
subject of study, their defiant aspect, thoughtful countenances, in
which lurks a soupcon of rapacity, remind me of a mayor and
town council bent on imposing new taxes without raising too much of a
row.
A gaudy and sleek bird of Paradise had been donated by Miss Caron, of
the adjoining chateau. There was also a newly-patented bird-
trap, sent by a New York firm, in the days of Boss Tweed, Conolly,
Field and other birds of prey I noticed boxes for sparrows to build
in, designed by Col W Rhodes. On the floor lay a curious sample of an
Old World man-trap, not sent from New York, but direct from England, a
terror to poachers and apple stealers, French swords and venomous
looking bayonets, of very ancient design, a rusty, long Indian musket
barrel together with tibiae and tarsi, labelled 1759-60, presents
from H. J. Chouinard, Esq., the owner in 1865 of the site of the
battlefield at St. Foye, where stands Le Monument des Braves. A
bristling-fretful porcupine, a ferocious-looking lynx, and several
well-mounted specimens of game had been donated by McPherson Le Moyne,
Esq., the President of the "Montreal Fish and Game Protection Club,"
also several other contributions from the same.
Who had sent the colossal St. Bernard dog, like another Maida,
talking over the lawn, we had not an opportunity of asking. We patted
him, all trembling.
The flower garden is laid out in the modern landscape style. Fences
carefully concealed, a deep fringe of hard wood trees on one side, a
trim lilac hedge on the other, and a plantation of shrubs, roan,
barbary, sumac, lilac and young maple. On the side west of the house
was observable, next to a rustic seat, in the fork of a white birch,
an archaeological monument made with the key-stone of Prescott and
Palace Gates when removed by order of the City Corporation, [234] it
stands about ten feet in height.
From this spot, spanned by a little rustic bridge, a walk meanders
round the property to the west, canopied by a grove of silver birch,
oak, beach, pine and maple. Along the serpentine brook, Belle-Borne,
now so diminutive, and which, according to the historian Ferland, two
centuries ago turned the wheel of a mill below, is visible a dam,
creating a small pond in May, June and July, a favorite bathing place,
we are told, for the thrushes, robins and other songsters of the
adjoining groves. This tiny runlet is fringed with several varieties
of ferns, dog-tooth violets and other algae - (From L'Opinion
Publique.)
SPENCER OR BAGATELLE COTTAGE.
"We have many little Edens
Scattered up and down our dales;
We've a hundred pretty hamlets,
Nestling in our fruitful vales,
Here the sunlight loves to linger,
And the summer winds to blow,
Here the rosy spring in April,
Leapeth laughing from the snow."
On the western corner of the Spencer Grange property, and dependant to it,
can be seen from the road, Bagatelle - a long, straggling, picturesque
cottage, in the Italian style, with trees, rustic seats, walks and a
miniature flower-garden round it; a small prospect pavillion opens on the
St. Lewis road, furnishing a pretty view of the blue range of mountains to
the north; in summer it peeps from under clusters of the green or purple
leaves of some luxuriant Virginian creepers - our American ivy - which
climb round it. Bagatelle was generally occupied by an attache of
Spencer Wood, in the days of the Earl of Elgin and Sir Edmund W. Head.
Bagatelle is a quiet little nest, where our Canadian Laureate, Frechette,
might be tempted to pen an invitation to his brother bard of the city,
LeMay, somewhat in the manner of the soft warbler of Albion towards his
friend the Revd. P. D. Maurice:
"Where, far from smoke or noise of town,
I watch the twilight falling brown
All round a careless ordered garden,
Close to the ridge of a noble down.
You'll have no scandal while you dine,
But honest talk and wholesome wine,
And only hear the magpie gossip
Garrulous under a roof of pine.
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