So Dry That Bitter Tear, Mother Dear! 'Twill Not Be Very Long Ere With Jesus You'll Sing The Song, Sung By Those Who To Him Belong, And Wipe That Bitter Tear - Mother Dear!

BARDFIELD THE LATE BISHOP MOUNTAIN'S COUNTRY SEAT.

"Far from me and my friends be that frigid philosophy, which can make us pass unmoved over any scenes which have been consecrated by virtue, by valour, or by wisdom." - JOHNSON.

Pleasant the memories of our rustic homes! 'Tis pleasant, after December's murky nights, or January and February's inexorable chills, to go and bask on the sunny banks of our great river, under the shade of trees, in the balmy spring, and amidst the gifts of a bountiful nature, to inhale fragrance and health and joy. Pleasant, also, to wander during September in our solemn woods, "with footsteps inaudible on the soft yellow floor, composed of the autumnal sheddings of countless years." Yes, soothing to us are these memories of home - of home amusements, home pleasures, and even of home sorrows. Sweeter still, even though tinged with melancholy, the remembrance of the departed friends, - those guardian spirits we once saw moving in some of our Canadian homes in the legitimate pride of hospitality - surrounded by young and loving hearts - enshrined in the respect of their fellow men.

Oft has it been our privilege at that festive season of our year, when a hallowed custom brings Canada's sons and daughters together with words of greeting and good-fellowship, to wend our way to Bardfield, high on the breezy hills of Sillery, and exchange a cordial welcome with the venerable man who had dwelt in our midst for many long years. Seldom has it been our lot to approach one who, as a scholar, a gentleman, a prelate, or what is more than all those titles put together, a truly good man, impressed himself more agreeably on our mind.

Another revolution of the circling year and the good pastor, the courteous gentleman, the learned divine, our literary [240] friend and neighbour, the master of Bardfield, had been snatched from among us and from an admiring public. Where is the Quebecer who has not noticed the neat cottage on the north of the St. Lewis road, where lived and died the Lord Bishop Mountain? As you pass, you see as formerly its lovely river view, gravelled walks, curving avenue, and turfy lawns, luxuriant hedges designed by a hand now cold in death. Bardfield continues to be occupied by Miss Mountain and other members of the late Bishop's family. A school house, in the rural Gothic style, quite an ornament to Sillery, has been erected by His Lordship's family, as a memorial of the sojourn at this spot of this true friend of suffering humanity and patron of education.

Bardfield, founded about forty years ago by an eminent merchant of Quebec, Peter Burnet, Esquire, was recently purchased by Albert Furness, Esquire and by him leased to Charles Earnest Levey, Esquire, until Kirke Ella, the property of Mr. Levy, is rebuilt.

Enter page number Go  Previous Next
Page 260 of 451
Words from 136088 to 136593 of 236821