Among The Notabilities Of Cap Blanc,
One Is Bound To Recall The Athletic Stevedore And Pugilist, Jacques
Etienne Blais.
Should the fearless man's record not reach remote
posterity, pointing him out as the Tom Sayers of Cap Blanc,
It cannot fail
to be handed down as the benefactor of the handsome new church of Notre
Dame de la Garde, erected on the shore in 1878, the site of which was
munificently given by him on the 17th June, 1877. Jacques Blais, now
(1881) very aged, though still vigorous, in his best days by his prowess
re-called that prince of Quebec raftsmen so graphically delineated by Chas
Lanman.
Champlain street stretches nearly to Cap Rouge, a distance of six miles.
During the winter the fall of an avalanche from the brow of the Cape on
the houses beneath is a not unfrequent occurrence. In former years, in the
good time of ship-building, the laying the keel of a large vessel in the
ship-yards often brought joy to the hearts of the poor ship-carpenters;
many of whose white, snug cottages are grouped along the river near by.
Except during the summer months, when the crews of the ships, taking in
cargo alongside the booms, sing, fight and dance in the adjacent
"shebeens," the year glides on peacefully. On grand, on gala days, in
election times, some of the sons of St. Patrick used to perambulate the
historical street, flourishing treenails, or shillaleghs - in order
to preserve the peace!!! of course. To sum up all, Champlain street
has an aspect altogether sui generis.
A QUEBEC PORTRAIT
(From the ATLANTIC MONTHLY.)
"Physical size and grand proportions are looked upon by the French-
Canadians with great respect. In all the cases of popular
emeutes that have from time to time broken out in Lower Canada,
the fighting leaders of the people were exceptional men, standing head
and shoulders over their confiding followers. Where gangs of raftsmen
congregate, their 'captains' may be known by superior stature. The
doings of their 'big men' are treasured by the French-Canadians in
traditionary lore. One famous fellow of this governing class is known
by his deeds and words to every lumberer and stevedore and timber-
tower about Montreal and Quebec. This man, whose name was Joe
Monfaron, was the bully of the Ottawa raftsmen. He was about six feet
six inches high, and proportionally broad and deep; and I remember how
people would turn round to look after him, as he came pounding along
Notre Dame street, in Montreal, in his red shirt and tan-colored
shupac boots, all dripping wet, after mooring an acre or two of
raft, and now bent for his ashore haunts in the Ste. Marie suburb, to
indemnify himself with bacchanalian and other consolations for long-
endured hardship. Among other feats of strength attributed to him, I
remember the following, which has an old, familiar taste, but was
related to me as a fact:
"There was a fighting stevedore or timber-tower, I forget which, at
Quebec, who had never seen Joe Monfaron, as the latter seldom came
farther down the river than Montreal.
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