On Reaching The Wharf A Carriage Conveyed Us To The
Citadel, - Such A Drive, Up The Side Of A House!
Over a great many
boulders.
A curious old town is Quebec - thoroughly like a French town,
with French spoken everywhere, and French dirt and air of poverty and
untidiness, as in the remoter and older towns of France.
Lord and Lady Lansdowne received us most kindly, and besides there was
Lady Florence Anson (her niece, who is engaged to Captain Streatfield),
Lady Melgund, whose husband is away in Ottawa looking after canoe men
for Egypt, and a young Mr. Anson, A.D.C. After seeing the view from the
balcony - a splendid panorama of Quebec and the river St. Lawrence, with
its tributary St. Charles, and the surrounding country backed by blue
mountains, we went in to our second breakfast, and much we enjoyed our
tea. Lord Lansdowne sat next me and was very pleasant. Afterwards he
asked John and E - - and me and the boys to dine, apologising for not
asking us all to sleep there, on the grounds of not having room, which
is true enough, for the house is not large. I thought it best to decline
for myself and two sons, as I was going with them for the night to this
place (Mr. Dobell's), four miles away. Then came a Secretary of the
Local Committee to discuss arrangements with John, and alter the
programme somewhat for next Friday and Saturday, when we are expected to
revisit Quebec.
John is much afraid that the long-list of engagements will bring on his
rheumatism and knock him up for the real Business in Montreal. After
this we had the carriage and drove in state to the Hotel where John and
E - - were to sleep, arranged about our berths on the steamer for
Montreal, saw numbers of our fellow-passengers who had not gone to
Montreal, and drove to the wharf and only brought a little luggage to
come here with. They told me I should not want umbrellas ("Our climate
here is very different from yours," said they), nor wraps, but I
persisted in bringing a few, fortunately, for it has been pouring all
night and up to this time (twelve o'clock Wednesday), and it was so cold
besides. While at the hotel (I forgot to mention _that_) a card was
handed to me with Mr. Price's name on it. I could not think who he was,
but he soon came and mentioned Capt. F - - (Julia Spicer's son-in-law),
and then I remembered he had promised to mention us to the Prices. He
offered to drive one of the ladies in his buggy to his house near the
Montmerenci Falls, where we were all to lunch, and E - - went in it, and
the rest of us drove in another carriage to his place, about five miles
off. The drive was delightful and his cottage a picture - a little, fat,
fair motherly woman for a wife, with two little chicks, and a lady
friend. They took us down some steps to the Falls, the river Montmerenci
falling 500 feet, and it was very fine, the view being improved by the
figures of our fellow-passengers on the opposite side making struggling
efforts to gain good positions, which we achieved in all ease and
comfort. Then we returned to an excellent luncheon, very pleasantly
diversified to us by Indian corn, which we learned to eat in an
ungraceful but excellent fashion on the cob, blueberry tart and cream.
This was our _third_ substantial meal on Tuesday. Several visitors
called, and among them our fellow-passengers, Mr. Stephen Bourne and his
daughters and two friends, who are also staying here, a gentleman with
three other ladies (two of whom had been on the "Parisian") who said he
had been staying lately with one of them in Cheshire, so I concluded he
was an English-Canadian and said heartily: "That's right, keep up with
the old country. You come to see us and we come to see you." And he
responded graciously, but I heard after that he was a French-Canadian
and R. C., and they are not fond of England, but cling very much to
French ways and customs and are entirely in the hands of their priests.
They are a quiet, moral people, marry very young and have very large
families. It is quite common to hare ten children, and they live at what
we should call a starvation rate; yet they will not go to service,
contribute hardly anything to the revenue, and so the English, who are
the only active and money-making section of the population, are heavily
taxed; of course _I_ speak of the poor and working classes. The
province of Quebec is, therefore, not a favourite one with enterprising
spirits from our shores or from other parts of Canada.
After these visitors were gone, Mr. Price drove me and E - -, and the
rest walked, to the "Natural Steps." It was a beautiful spot, the clear
torrent of the river Montmerenci falling in cascades over a curious
formation of layers of stone and steps on either side, with the bright
green _arbor vitae_, which they call cedar, growing above and in
every niche it can find a bit of soil; wild raspberries and strawberries
too, which, alas, were over. We met several of our fellow-passengers,
and we greet one another like long-lost friends. On our return we found
Mrs. Price had cuddled her ailing boy to sleep and could give us some
attention. We had delicious tea and cake (our fourth meal). Mr. Price
comes from Boss, in Herefordshire, and has been twelve years away from
it. He is very nice and intelligent. Her brother owns the Falls and
lives in a pretty cottage near. Edison, the electric light inventor, has
bought the power of these falls for electric purposes. John was thinking
all the time how useful they might be made.
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