Their Most Formidable Foes Were Not The Thieves,
But The Gay Lotharios And High-Fed Swells Of The Time, Returning From
Late Dinners, And Who Made It A Duty, Nay, A Crowning Glory, To Thrash
The Watch!
Where now are those practical jokers who made collections
of door-knockers (the house-bell was not then known)
, Exchanged sign-
boards from shop-doors, played unconscionable tricks on the simple-
minded peasants on market-days - surreptitiously crept in at suburban
balls, in the guise of the evil one, and, by the alarm they at times
created, unwittingly helped Monsieur le Cure to frown down upon
these mundane junkettings.
One of these escapades is still remembered here. [79]
Four of these gentlemanly practical jokers, one night, habited in
black like the Prince of Darkness, drove silently through the suburbs
in a cariole drawn by two coal-black steeds, and meeting with a
well-known citizen, overcome by drink, asleep in the snow, they
silently but vigorously seized hold of him with an iron grip; a
cahot and physical pain having restored him to consciousness,
he devoutly crossed himself, and, presto! was hurled into another
snow-drift. Next day all Quebec had heard in amazement how, when and
where Beelzebub and his infernal crew had been seen careering in state
after nightfall. Oh! the jolly days and gay nights of olden times!
But the past had other figures more deserving of our sympathy. The
sober-sided sires of the frolicsome gentry just described: the
respected tradesmen who had added dollar to dollar to build up an
independence - whose savings their children were squandering so
recklessly; those worthy citizens who had filled without stipend
numerous civic offices, with a zeal, a whole-heartedness seldom met
with in the present day - at once churchwardens, justices of the peace,
city fathers, members of societies for the promotion of agriculture,
of education, for the prevention of fires; who never sat up later than
nine of the clock p.m., except on those nights when they went to the
old Parliament Building to listen in awe to fiery Papineau or eloquent
Bourdages thunder against the Bureaucracy; who subscribed and
paid liberally towards every work of religion, of charity, of
patriotism; who every Saturday glanced with trembling eye over the
columns of the Official Gazette, to ascertain whether Government had
not dismissed them from the Militia or Commission of the Peace, for
having attended a public meeting, and having either proposed or
seconded a motion backing up Papineau and censuring the Governor.
Thrilling - jocund - simple war-like time of 1837, where art thou
flown?"
The "sunny Esplanade," the "Club," the "Platform," in those days "rather
small," the "Rink," "Montmorency Falls," "Lake Charles," the "Citadel" and
its "hog's-back," it would appear, inspired the bard of the 25th King's
Own Borderers - for years forming part of our garrison - on this favourite
regiment embarking for England, to waft to the old Rock the following
poetic tribute. -
FAREWELL TO QUEBEC.
Adieu, ye joys of fair Quebec!
We've got what's coarsely termed the sack.
Adieu, kind homes that we have entered;
What hopes and joys are around ye centered!
Adieu, ye flights of Lower Town stairs!
To mount you often, no one cares.
Adieu, that Club, with cook whose skill
Makes none begrudge his dinner bill.
Adieu, O sunny Esplanade!
You suit us loungers to a shade.
Adieu, thou Platform, rather small,
For upper-ten, the band and all.
And Music Hall! adieu to thee!
Ne'er kinder audiences we'll see;
There on each 'Stadacona' night,
'Ye antient citie' proves its right
To boast of beauty, whose fair fame,
To us at Malta even came.
Adieu, O Rink, and 'thrilling steel,'
Another sort of thrill we feel,
As eye entranced, those forms we follow,
And see the Graces beaten hollow.
Adieu, John's Gate! your mud and mire
Must end in time, as does each fire!
Adieu, that pleasant four-mile round,
By bilious subs so useful found.
Adieu, Cathedral! and that choir,
All eye and ear could well desire.
Adieu, that service - half-past three -
And chance walks after, home to tea.
And 'city fathers,' too, adieu!
Sorry we shan't know more of you.
Adieu, your daughters passing fair,
In dancing, skating, who so rare?
Adieu, too soon, O Citadel!
Adieu, hogs-back, we like thee well,
Though when on poudre days we've crossed,
Noses and ears we've all but lost.
Adieu, to Montmorency's Fall!
Adieu, ye ice-cones large and small!
Who can forget the traineau's leap
From off that icy height, so steep;
It takes your breath as clean away
As plunge in air - at best you may
Get safely down, and borne along,
Run till upset; but ah! if wrong
At first, you take to turning round,
The traineau leaves you, and you're found
Down at the bottom, rolling still,
Shaken and bruised and feeling ill.
Adieu, ye lakes and all the fishing!
To cast a fly we've long been wishing.
One last adieu! sorry are we
That this must be our p.p.c.!
Folly to think we'll feel resigned
In leaving you, who've proved so kind.
Our bark of happiness goes wreck,
In quitting you, far-famed Quebec!
- P.P.C., of the 25th K.O.B.
Our thoroughfares, our promenades, even in those dreary months, when the
northern blast howls over the Canadian landscape, have some blithsome
gleams of sunshine. Never shall we forget one bright, frosty January
afternoon, about four o'clock, in the year 1872, when solitary, though
not sad, standing on Durham [80] Terrace, was unveiled to us "a most
magnificent picture, a scene of glorified nature painted by the hand of
the Creator. The setting sun had charged the skies with all its gorgeous
heraldry of purple and crimson and gold, and the tints were diffused and
reflected through fleecy clouds, becoming softer and richer through
expansion. The mountain tops, wood-crowned, where the light and shadow
appeared to be struggling for mastery, stood out in relief from the white
plain, and stretching away in indistinct, dreamy distances finally seemed
to blend with the painted skies.
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