"The Highlands" Lie Above St. Michael's Cove Teeming With Historical Recollections, A Little To The West Thereof, In Front Of

St. Lewis road of historic renown, over which pranced, in 1663, the Marquis of Tracy's gaudy equipage and splendid body-

Guard wearing, as history tells, the uniform of the Gardes de la Reine. In Sept., 1759, [255] the Rochbeaucourt Cavalry, with their "blue uniforms and neat light horses of different colours," scoured the heights in all directions, watching the motions of the English fleet, which may be seen in the plate of the siege operations, lying at anchor at Sillery, ready, the huge black leviathans, to hurl destruction on the devoted city. In 1838, we remember well noticing Lord Durham's showy equipage with outriders, thundering daily over this same road: the Earl being a particular admirer of the Cap Rouge scenery. This seat has passed over, by purchase, to Chas. Temple, Esq., son of our late respected fellow-townsman, Major Temple, who for a series of years served in that 15th regiment, to whose prowess the Plains of Abraham bore witness during the war of the conquest. "The Highlands" are now occupied by J. W. Stockwell, Esquire.

WINTER FOX HUNTING IN CANADA.

From time immemorial, Merry England has been renowned for her field sports; prominent amongst which may be reckoned her exciting pastime of Fox-hunting, the pride, the glory, par excellence of the roystering English squire. Many may not be aware that we also, in our far-off Canada, have a method of Fox-hunting peculiarly our own - in harmony with the nature of the country - adapted to the rigors of our arctic winter season - the successful prosecution of which calls forth more endurance, a keener sight, a more thorough knowledge of the habits of the animal, a deeper self-control and greater sagacity, than does the English sport; for, as the proverb truly says, "Pour attraper la bete, faut etre plus fin qu'elle." [256]

A short sketch [257] of a Canadian Fox-hunt may not, therefore, prove uninteresting. At the outset, let the reader bear in mind that Sir Reynard Canadensis is rather a rakish, dissipated gentleman, constantly turning night into day, in the habit of perambulating through the forests, the fields, and homesteads, at most improper hours, to ascertain whether, perchance, some old dame Partlett, some hoary gobbler, some thoughtless mother-goose, allured to wander over the farm-yard by the jocund rays of a returning March sun, may not have been outside of the barn, when the negligent stable-boy closed up for the night; or else, whether some gay Lothario of a hare in yonder thicket may not, by the silent and discreet rays of the moon, be whispering some soft nonsense in the willing ear of some guileless doe, escaped from a parent's vigilant eye. For on such has the midnight marauder set his heart: after such does noiselessly prowl, favoured by darkness - the dissipated rascal - querens quem devoret - determined to make up, on the morrow, by a long meridian siesta on the highest pinacle of a snow-drift, for the loss of his night's-rest. Should fortune refuse the sly prowler the coveted hen, turkey, goose, or hare, warmly clad in his fur coat and leggings, with tail horizontal, he sallies forth over the snow-wreathed fields, on the skirts of woods, in search of ground mice, his ordinary provender. But, you will say, how can he discover them under the snow? By that wonderful instinct with which nature has endowed the brute creation to provide for their sustenance, each according to its nature, to its wants. By his marvellously acute ear, the fox detects the ground mouse under the snow, though he should utter a noise scarcely audible to a human ear. Mr. Fox sets instantly to work, digs down the earth, and in a trice gobbles up mus, his wife, and young family. Should nothing occur to disturb his arrangements, he devotes each day in winter, from ten or half-past ten in the forenoon, to repose; selecting the loftiest snow-bank he can find, or else a large rock, or perchance any other eminence from which -

"Monarch of all he surveys" -

he can command a good view of the neighborhod, and readily scent approaching danger. Nor does he drop off immediately in a sound sleep, like a turtle-fed alderman; but rather, like a suspicious, blood- thirsty land pirate, as he is, he first snatches hastily "forty winks," then starts up nervously, for several times, scanning all around with his cruel, cunning eye - snuffing the air. Should he be satisfied that no cause of alarm exists, he scrapes himself a bed, if in the snow and, warmly wrapped in his soft fur cloak, he coils himself up, cat-fashion, in the sun, with his brushy tail brought over his head, but careful to keep his nose to the direction from which the wind blows, so as to catch the first notice of and scent the lurking enemy. On a stormy, blustery day, the fox will, however, usually seek the shelter of some bushes or trees, and on such occasion is usually found under the lee of some little wooded point, where, steeped in sweetest sleep, he can at leisure dream of clucking hens, fat turkeys, and tender leverets - sheltered from the storm, and still having an uninterrupted view before him. The hunter, when bent on a fox hunt, is careful to wear garments whose colour blends with the prevailing hue of frosted nature: a white cotton capot, and capuchon to match, is slipped over his great coat; pants also white - everything to harmonize with the snow; a pair of snow-shoes and a short gun complete his equipment. Once arrived at the post where he expects to meet reynard, he looks carefully about for signs of tracks, and having discovered fresh ones, he follows them, keeping a very sharp look-out. Should he perceive a fox, and that animal be not asleep, it is then that he has need of all his wits and of all the knowledge of the animal's habits he may possess.

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