"Above the point of the Island of Orleans," says Parkman, "a constriction
of the vast channel narrows it to a mile; on one hand, the green heights
of Point Levi; on the other, the cliffs of Quebec.
Here, a small stream,
the St. Charles, enters the St. Lawrence, and in the angle betwixt them
rises the promontory, on two sides a natural fortress. Land among the
walnut-trees that formed a belt between the cliffs and the St. Lawrence.
Climb the steep height, now bearing aloft its ponderous load of churches,
convents, dwellings, ramparts, and batteries, - there was an accessible
point, a rough passage, gullied downward where Prescott Gate (in 1871)
opened on the Lower Town. Mount to the highest summit, Cape Diamond, [7]
now zig-zagged with warlike masonry. Then the fierce sun fell on the bald,
baking rocks, with its crisped mosses and parched lichens. Two centuries
and-a-half have quickened the solitude with swarming life, covered the
deep bosom of the river with barge and steamer and gliding sail, and
reared cities and villages on the site of forests; but nothing can destroy
the surpassing grandeur of the scene.
"Grasp the savin anchored in the fissure, lean over the brink of the
precipice, and look downward, a little to the left, on the belt of woods
which covers the strand between the water and the base of the cliffs. Here
a gang of axe-men are at work, and Point Levi and Orleans echo the crash
of falling trees.
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