History of the settlement of Upper Canada (Ontario,) / with special reference to the Bay Quinté

by William Canniff

CHAPTER XLIV.

Contents—​Appearance—​Mouth of Bay—​Length—​The Peninsula of Prince Edward—​Width of Bay—​Long Reach—​Course of Bay—​The High Shore—​Division of bay—​Eastern, central, western—​Taking a trip—​Through the Reach—​A picture—​A quiet spot—​Lake on the mountain—​A description—​Montreal Gazette—​Beautiful view—​Rhine, Hudson—​Contrast—​Classic ground—​A sketch—​Birth place of celebrated Canadians—​Hagerman—​A leading spirit—​Sir J. A. McDonald—​Reflections—​A log house—​Relics of the past—​Lesson of life—​In the lower bay—​Reminiscences—​The front—​Cradle of the province—​Shore of Marysburgh—​In the Western Bay—​Cuthbertson—​Up the bay—​A battle ground—​Devil’s Hill—​Stickney’s Hill—​In the depths—​Prosperity—​Geological supposition—​Head of bay—​The past.

BAY QUINTÉ CONTINUED—​ITS APPEARANCE.

Perhaps there is no sheet of water in Upper Canada possessed of greater natural beauty than this arm of Lake Ontario. At the eastern extremity of Ontario, where it merges into the St. Lawrence, with its 1692 islands, on the northern shore, is found the entrance to the Bay Quinté. In the early days of the settlement the name was limited to the waters west of Indian Point, at the extremity of Prince Edward Peninsula. At the present time the Bay Quinté is understood to include the sound between Amherst Island, and Wolfe Island, upon the south, and the mainland to the north. Our history is intended specially to embrace the events connected with the settlement of this region.

The bay, commencing where the St. Lawrence begins its mighty flow, extends in an irregular manner inland to a distance of some 70 miles, its western extremity approaching to within a short distance of the lake; and thus creating a lengthy peninsula, varying in breadth, the greatest being about 25 miles; but with a neck so narrow, that the peninsula is almost an island. The width of the bay varies, averaging about a mile; but in some places it is two miles. Not only is the bay irregular in its direction; but there are many indentations, some several miles in length, which increase the irregularity, and add beauty and variety to the scenery.

The course of the bay from the lower gap, is at first, for some 35 miles almost due west. It then makes a turn toward the north, tending a little to the east; while to the south is an indentation forming the Picton Bay. This portion of the bay is called the Long Reach, and in its length, presents some of the most striking beauties of the whole bay. Extending to the south of the Reach is a lengthy indentation five or six miles long, forming Hay Bay. At the northern extremity of the Long Reach, is another small bay into which the Napanee River empties, called the Mohawk Bay. Here the main body of water makes another turn, and again, stretches almost directly westward, to the head of the bay. At a distance of eight miles from Mohawk Bay there is a material widening of the water. This portion is called Big Bay. The width does not appear so great in consequence of the existence of islands, one of which, the Big Island, stretches along the south shore even the whole length of Big Bay. At the western limits of the wide part, the bay is very narrow by reason of two opposite points, Mississauga and Ox Points, approaching to within a half mile of each other. It is the opinion of geologists, that the channel between these two points is of comparatively recent formation, caused by a sinking of the land, and that the old channel was through the marsh which divides Mississauga point from the peninsula.

The High Shore, which forms so prominent a feature in the scenery of the bay, and the highest summit of which is at the Lake on the Mountain, is a remarkable formation. Commencing in Marysburgh, near the East Lake by the shore of Lake Ontario, it follows the course of Smith’s Bay eastward, down the shore to what is called “the Rock,” thence across the peninsula to the bay and so follows the course of the bay upward, around Picton Bay, and thence along the eastern front of Sophiasburgh to a point opposite Hay Bay. Here the hill leaves the bay shore and takes a westerly course, and stretches away toward the lake, to the south of the Carrying Place.

The Bay of Quinté may be divided into three portions—​an eastern, a western, and a central portion. The eastern and western portions, we have seen, run east and west. The middle portion, connecting these two together, is a reach of some twelve miles and mostly north and south, from Picton Bay to Mohawk Bay. Undoubtedly the “Long Reach” possesses the most attractive scenery, from the waters themselves, along the whole sheet, from Kingston to the Carrying Place. To obtain some idea of the scenery here presented, the reader is invited to accompany the writer, in imagination, upon the steamer from Mill point, Tyendinaga, or the Indian Woods, to Kingston. It is upon a bright morning in September. Leaving the wharf at Mill Point, our boat makes a graceful sweep and turns here prow down the bay toward the Reach. The power of the sun is beginning to be felt, and the mist which has rested upon the waters is gradually rising. After leaving the wharf a few minutes, an angle is reached from which we can look up through the Big Bay almost to Belleville, and, at the same time down the Reach, into Picton Bay. This morning, on glancing upwards, a lovely view presents itself. The water is like glass, from which the mist, here and there, is rising like a sheet of the purest snow. Resting in the glassy bed are several schooners, whose white sails and rigging are perfectly mirrored by the unrippled surface of the water. Turning our gaze down through the Reach, even a more beautiful sight is before us. From this stand point we seem to be looking through, as it were, a telescope, at the distant shores of Picton Bay. The sun’s rays have not yet reached the deep and narrow channel, so that a thick covering of white mist hides the water, excepting here and there, where its lovely blue may be seen, as it reflects the azure sky. A vessel with snowy sails, seems to be resting against the high shore, while its hull is half enshrouded in the fog. To the right, over a point of low land, may be seen the top mast of another vessel, which, in an indentation of the bay, is as if left upon the dry land by a retiring flood. It has always seemed to the writer that this is the most delightful and picturesque spot upon the bay, and he has endeavored, in but an imperfect way, to draw to it the attention of tourists, who may desire to see the more enchanting scenes connected with the bay. Proceeding on our way down the Reach, the steamer stops at Roblin’s wharf upon the right. Here, in a little dell, leading into a peaceful valley pleasantly wooded, which leads up to the high shore, is situated Mr. Roblin’s buildings. For a quiet place in which to live during the summer, where one may forget the cold artificial world, it is unequalled. To the right is the bold high shore, which protects from the northern wind. Spread out before, is a beautiful landscape. There, is another view of Adolphustown, with its many points, and corresponding indentations, the home of peace and plenty. There, is the entrance to Hay Bay, and more directly opposite, the elevated shore, well crowned with trees, still clothed in green.

We now continue our voyage close to the precipitous rocks which form the shore, and presently we approach the mouth of Picton Bay. Here again is obtained a varied and delightful prospect, ere we leave this “Grand Bay,” as it was at first called.

Issuing again from Picton Bay, our steamer glides along in the shadow of the eastern shore, and approaches the Stone Mills, at the foot of the lake on the mountain. The captain will wait until we have ascended, and viewed the lake, and the magnificent prospect spread out around. But the brief time allowed to accomplish the ascent affords no adequate chance to take in the exceeding loveliness, and call to mind the historic events connected with the country within view. So we shall detain the tourist for a days’ inspection of the scene.

The Lake of the Mountain is a curiosity of no mean order. The following, taken from the Montreal Gazette, published in the summer of 1834, is worthy the place we give it:

“The Lake of the Mountain is one of the most remarkable objects in the District of Prince Edward. This singular body of water is about five miles distant from Hallowell, (Picton). It is situated on the top of a lofty eminence, about one hundred and sixty feet above the level of the Bay of Quinté. The manner in which it is bounded is rather singular. In one direction it is only separated from the waters of the Bay below by a ledge of limestone rock, about eighty feet high, and by a precipitous embankment, which extends half way around it. In every other direction it is skirted by a ridge which rises to the height of 40 feet above the level of its surface. This Lake is about five miles in circumference. Its waters are at present applied to propel only a grist mill and a fulling machine. An artificial canal has been cut, along which the water is conveyed to the edge of the embankment, from whence it is conducted by a wooden raceway to the mills, which are situated near the margin of the bay below. The original outlet of the lake is at a few paces distance from the raceway. At this place the surplus waters formerly escaped through an orifice in the precipice I formerly mentioned, and after dashing over the rocks below, ultimately found their passage into the Bay.

“When I first heard of this lake, the most incredible stories were related to me concerning it. The gentleman who first directed my attention to it, absolutely told me that it was supplied by a subterraneous passage from Lake Erie, that there was no inlet in the neighborhood, capable of affording it a supply, and lastly, that it was unfathomable, or that its bottom was lower than that of the adjoining part of the Bay of Quinté. Such information as this, communicated by a well-informed Barrister, did not fail to excite my curiosity, and I accordingly set out to examine it with feelings of considerable anxiety.

“What led to the absurd idea that this lake was supplied from Lake Erie, I am at a loss to understand. It contains no springs, and the banks of that part especially from which it is viewed by strangers, being all so low that no inlet is visible, it might, perhaps, have been thought impossible to account for its source by any other means. The absurdity of the notion is, however, so glaring, that I would not spend a single moment in exposing it, had it not taken strong hold of the imagination of a great proportion of intelligent people residing in this part of the country.

“If the Lake of the Mountain were supplied from Lake Erie, its waters should experience a corresponding rise and fall with those of Lake Erie. This, however, they do not, for last year the waters of Lake Erie were higher than usual, while those of the Lake of the Mountain were very low. Again, this year, the waters of Lake Erie were lower than usual, while those of the Lake of the Mountain are very high.

“Further, if the Lake of the Mountain were supplied from Lake Erie, it should be altogether uninfluenced by any state of the weather in its neighborhood. This, however, is not the case, for in wet weather it becomes high, and in dry weather it becomes low. When I first visited this lake, its waters were nearly upon a level with its banks, and when I saw it some months afterwards, they were seven or eight feet above them. This was after a continuance of dry weather.

“From all this it is evident that Lake Erie does not furnish the supply of the Lake of the Mountain, and that it must be looked for in some other quarter. Being determined to discover from whence this supply was derived, I proceeded along the east side of the lake for about a mile, upon the top of the eminence which separates it from the Bay of Quinté. I then entered the woods and began imperceptibly to ascend, until I found, by again coming in site of the lake, that I had reached an elevation of about forty feet above it. Continuing to proceed for two or three miles, I descended, in the same imperceptible manner, to the place from which I first set out. In the course of this journey, I crossed no less than five different water-courses, four of which were dry at the period of my first visit, but all of which I have since seen pouring out very considerable quantities of water. The fifth is a beautiful stream flowing into the lake over successive ledges of limestone rock, underneath the rich foliage of the trees by which it is overarched. This stream affords the chief supply to the lake, and judging from the appearance of its channel, it must be sometimes upwards of a foot deep. In the spring and fall, when the greatest quantities of water are discharged by it, I have distinctly heard the noise which it makes at a distance of two miles, and on the opposite side of the lake, as it dashes over the rocks. The whole of these rivulets proceed from two extensive swamps. That from which the largest arises is situated to the south west of the lake, and is about three or four miles in circumference.

“The depth of the lake next claimed my attention. Having procured a sufficient length of line, I pushed out upon its waters in a small scow. For a considerable distance we distinctly perceive the bottom, which consists of dissolved, or rather corroded lime, so loose and light that with little or no exertion one may push the whole length of his oar into it. Continuing to look downwards upon the beautiful white bottom as we sail along, we start instinctively upon finding that we all at once lose sight of it, and that we gaze into a deep, dark, frightful abyss, which is formed by the sudden appearance of a precipitous ridge, running right across the lake. Nothing can exceed the amazement—​terror, I had almost called it—​which some people express on finding themselves surrounded by lofty, dark woods, and floating upon the surface of water as black as ink, over an abyss which they have been told is quite unfathomable.

“After having sailed over the lake in every different direction, and taken an immense number of soundings, I found its greatest depth to be only ninety-one feet. The bay below I found to be eighty-two feet. Now as the lake is about one hundred and sixty feet above the level of the bay, it follows that the bottom of the lake is one hundred and fifty-one feet higher than that of the bay.

“Thus, then, it appears that the Lake of the Mountain does not derive its supply from Lake Erie, that its source is to be found in its immediate neighbourhood, that it is not unfathomable, and that its bottom is not lower than that of the Bay of Quinté.

“The Lake of the Mountain is however, an object of sufficient interest, without adding to its wonders those of a subterraneous communication with Lake Erie, and an unfathomable depth. There is, for instance, the very singular manner in which it is separated from the Bay of Quinté, by a wall of solid rock, and the extraordinary form of its basin. The fine views, too, with which the mountain abounds, ought to be sufficient to attract the attention of all those whose minds are capable of enjoying the various forms in which beauty may be contemplated.

“Nothing can surpass the savage grandeur of the scene we look upon from the summit of the limestone rock I have so often mentioned, nor can a lovelier prospect be anywhere found than that which breaks upon the view, on first reaching the top of the mountain. To the north and west, we behold the Bay of Quinté, stretching far away into the land, and dividing itself into many beautiful inlets. There are too, the promising settlements and clearances all along the coast, which can never fail to raise and exhilarate the spirits of every one who wishes well to the destinies of his species. There is, however, one view at this lake, which, above all others, I have most delighted to enjoy. It is from the woods, upon the most elevated part of the eminence which bounds the lake to the south. From this we behold the deep dark waters of the lake beneath our feet, the bay of an hundred arms, with its smiling coast, and far away we gaze upon forest rising behind forest, until we are lost in the interminable—​the dreamy distance.

“I have visited this place when the surrounding woods shone in all the gorgeousness of summer sunshine. I have viewed it again by the pale moonlight, when the splendour and magnificence of the scene surpassed even what it exhibited when viewed by the broad light of day. The lake below, and the distant bay, appeared like sheets of molten silver, and every object was softened down by the mellow light under which they were viewed. At first the sky was perfectly cloudless, but, in the course of the evening, the scene gradually underwent a change. On the one hand, the moon shone out with a degree of splendour which no one can have any idea of, save they who have beheld her chaste countenance peering above a Canadian forest. On the other hand the thin, fleecy-looking clouds rapidly chased each other up towards the zenith. As the evening advanced, gleams of purple lightning at intervals streamed forth. At length one large cloud which seemed to be the nucleus of the whole, shot from around its margin successive flashes of pure white lightning, unaccompanied by the slightest noise of thunder. As I gazed on the brilliant spectacle before me, it seemed instantly to assume the shape and form of the bust of some gigantic being. The longer I looked at it, the brighter did the lightning blaze around it, and the more forcibly was I impressed with the resemblance. It might have seemed to a superstitious or highly imaginative mind, as if the great Spirit of nature had deigned to reveal himself, amid the grandeur and sublimity of a scene so congenial to his character.

We would supplement this just tribute of praise, and interesting statement; and we venture to say, after having viewed many lovely spots in the old and new worlds, that we know of no lovelier panoramic view than that to be obtained from the Lake of the Mountain, not even excepting the far-famed Hudson, and the classic Rhine. Of course we except the rich relics of the old feudal days, which so picturesquely adorn the mountain tops along the swift running Rhine. But even here we are not destitute of historic reminiscences. True, we have no embattled towers, resting on rugged summits; no castle keeps, with mysterious dungeons, upon whose walls may be traced the letters laboriously cut by long retained captives; no crumbling walls and half-filled moats; no magnificent ruins of graceful architecture. We possess no Tintern Abbey by the quiet waters, to tell of the olden time; no gloomy cloisters where comfortable monks did dwell; nor romantic cathedral whose antique windows admitted but dim religious light. Still, there is something to be said of the past, in connection with our country. From our position here we may examine the classic ground of Upper Canada, and trace the course of settlement followed by our fathers, the pioneers.

At our feet is the bay, and seemingly so near, that one could toss a stone into the clear blue water; and across, at the distance of a mile, though apparently much nearer, lies the low rich land of Adolphustown. To the right stretches, in almost a straight line, the waters of the bay, along which may be seen the well settled shores even to Ernesttown, and over which we get a view of the Upper Gap, where the waters of the bay co-mingle with the more boisterous flood of Ontario. Upon this bright autumn day the view is almost enchanting. The surface of the waters of the several indentions, especially Hay Bay, as well as the main channel, have imparted to them the bright blue of the sky, while the fields of rich green and gold give variety to the scene. This rich landscape spread out before us is really the classic ground of Upper Canada. Within the compass of our view was for several years the western limit of the settlement. We can see, where landed the refugee loyalists to take possession of the land. Along that green and golden sloping shore has slowly passed the batteaux laden with the settlers and their limited household effects; there also has gone the Skenectady boat with its ungainly soil, and toiling rowers. There, upon the rich land of Fredericksburgh and Adolphustown, lived and died many of the fathers of Canada. In the old homesteads, which there gradually arose, were born, and spent their boyhood days, a host of sons, who, moving further west up the bay and lake, planted the townships. From that spot sprang many of Canada’s earliest public men, who passed their younger days among these natural beauties which belong to the bay. Under our eye is the birth-place of Judge Hagerman, Sheriff Ruttan, and others, who have left a name upon the pages of Canadian history. There, upon the front of Adolphustown stands the old Court House, where were held the first Courts of Law of Upper Canada; there flourished the earliest lawyer of the Province, Judge Hagerman’s father, and there pleaded McLean of Kingston, in his robes and powdered wig. And, there yet stands the house where lived the little boy, who, now a man, is the leading spirit in our enlarged Canada. Upon this hill, and up and down its slopes, often played this, the foremost man in British America, Sir John A. McDonald. Those four townships, Kingston, Ernesttown, Fredericksburgh, and Adolphustown, were the early homes of those who faithfully served their country. How many thoughts are suggested as the student of history looks abroad on this the first inhabited land of Western Canada. Many of the present inhabitants here never heard of the noble ones, who have struggled, and whose bones now decay in yon “U. E. burying ground,” just across the water.

Descending the mountain, we will continue our voyage toward Kingston. The next stopping place is Adolphustown, the history of which is given elsewhere. We have to cross the water, and as we approach the landing, we may see the splendid farm where lived the leader of the original settlers, Major VanAlstine. The village of Adolphustown, once one of the most important places in Upper Canada, is now a quiet but pleasant spot, especially during the summer days.

Proceeding on our way, we may observe, just west of Coles’ Point, where settled the very first person in Adolphustown, a small log house. It is much larger than those which sparsely dotted the bay shore seventy years ago. But it reminds one, of the first domiciles here erected. Divided into two, one part having been first built, and the other, when a growing family made it desirable, and means possible. This old log house close by the shore is a lingering specimen of an almost extinct feature of the bay. See here and there those tall poplar trees, brought in by the early settlers from the Hudson valley, and planted in front of the dwelling; many of them are yielding to the tooth of time. These trees generally mark the spot where the settler erected his second home after years of labor had prospered him. In many places they stand erect, but with age stricken limbs, as faithful sentinels over the ashes of the old homestead. Ashes indeed! For the crumbling chimney alone indicates where was once the abode of the pioneer—​of life’s cares and hopes, of doubt and expectation—​of all the ins and outs belonging to the home of the pioneer. We have read to us the lesson of life; there, are the graves of the brave old veterans and pioneers, and there, the dust of their earthly dwellings. Ashes to ashes! Dust to dust!

In the lower bay particularly have come to pass many events of varied import, and fraught with thrilling interest. Here, in times anterior to the French rule in Canada, did the native tribes come to hold their councils, to make treaties, form alliances, or declare war. Here, at the mouth of the Cataraqui; or along the shores toward the little Cataraqui, the French first fixed their place of meeting, and trade with the Indians who lived afar off in the west. Over these waters have Champlain, the French Recollets, the first discoverers, La Salle, Father Hennepin, Chevalier de Tonti, La Barre, Denonville, Conte de Frontenac and others, passed time after time. Over the waters here floated the English under Bradstreet, upon the 25th August, 1750, who, at the break of day were to besiege Fort Frontenac, and to capture it.

The close of the war in 1783, brought the disbanded soldiers and many a refugee. Along the shores passed the whole of the Mohawk Indians on their way to their lands. Here the Nation separated, a small party under Captain John, passing up the Bay of Quinté, while the majority passed up the south shore of the lake to the Grand River. For years after might have been seen day after day, batteaux, singly, or in brigades, and at a later date Skenectady boats, freighted with families old and young, and with a few precious household effects, slowly and laboriously pulling their way to their place of destined settlement. In the war of 1812, the American fleet ventured in at the upper gap and passed along at a safe distance from the field artillery that occupied the shore at Herchimer’s Point. They were essaying to capture the Royal George; but this attempt was as vain as that to overrun our province. Into these waters entered the vessel of war, bearing the officers of Hull’s army from Detroit, which they boastingly had declared would conquer Canada. From these waters issued some of the first sailing vessels of Lake Ontario. Here was likewise built the first steamboats upon the lake and bay, the Frontenac and Charlotte.

Upon the shores of these pleasant waters was commenced the survey of the ten townships around the bay. Here was the starting point of settlement. Here, for many a year, was the central point of Upper Canada. Along from Cataraqui up to Collin’s Bay was the great front of the infant settlement. Going up the bay, even to Adolphustown, was regarded for several years as going far into the backwoods.

Along the north shore of the bay to Adolphustown, were enacted those scenes which constituted the very first events of Upper Canadian history. The front of Kingston township may, indeed be called the birth place, and the front of Adolphustown the cradle, of the province. Every farm along this shore has its history, which if written in the noble spirit that animated the British American Loyalists, would command the attention of the world. These quiet old homesteads now reposing upon the gentle slopes in peace and plenty, tell not of the hardships of the old soldiers and refugees, who, with ticket in hand entered to commence the earnest work of clearing. Mainly, in the third and fourth townships, the officers settled by the bay, while the rank and file took up lots in the second and rear concessions. The first four townships are indeed, the classic ground of Canada.

Nor is the south shore of the bay, Marysburgh, devoid of interest in an historic sense. Reserving for another place a full account of the first settlement by the Hessians, we can but glance at the fact that a band of men without any knowledge of the English language, and unacquainted with the first principles of pioneer life, constituted the first settlers. There, in McDonald’s Cove landed he, after whom the name is given; and there, amid the woods and upon the bright waters, he passed his days.

We commenced our trip and observations at Mill Point, and proceeded down the bay. Let us return, and starting from the same place proceed to the head of the bay, the Carrying Place. This part of the bay possesses less of that picturesque beauty than is found in the part over which we have passed; yet there is much to engage the attention of the tourist.

Mill Point, although a name suggestive of enterprise and of the existence of mills; cannot be regarded with approbation, and it is to be hoped that some appropriate name, commemorating some past event or person, connected with the place, will be bestowed upon it. It was for many years known as “Culbertson’s wharf.” The proper name, however, was Cuthbertson. It was from the son of a Scotch fur trader who became connected with the Mohawks. He lived at Kingston for many years, leaving when he died a natural son and daughter, by a daughter of Captain John. After his death, she and the two children removed to the Mohawk village. It was this son who first built the wharf here, and hence the original name.

Continuing our way up the bay, leaving to the east the pleasant inlet stretching up to Napanee, the first thing to attract our attention is the Parsonage and Indian Church, embowered in the beautiful forest trees. The Parsonage first strikes our view, where resides the amiable and worthy clergyman Mr. Anderson. In front of it is a solitary poplar with the branches partially decayed. It marks the spot upon which the tribe first landed, when they came to the place in 1784. Here they first spread their tents. Somewhat to the east of this stood the first English Church, the foundation of which can yet be traced. Near by sleeps the remains of Captain John, the leader of the tribe, and likewise many other warriors.

A half mile to the west of the Church, is an eminence, which tradition points to as the battle ground between the ancient Mississaugas and the Hurons. Further westward is Devil’s Hill, so called because a drunken Indian declared he there had seen, one night, his Satanic Majesty, and chased him all night. Then comes Eagle Hill, once the abode of this Imperial bird. To the south, first lies the low island, known as Captain John’s, bought by Cuthbertson who built the wharf, from the Mississaugas. Then comes the north front of Sophiasburg, rich in agricultural beauty. The first eminence by the shore is Stickney’s Hill, once the burying place of Indians, but erroneously supposed to be the spot where a Col. Quinté, with his army, perished from hunger and cold. In the depths of the waters over which our boat now glides, it has been recorded, have been seen cannon and ammunition, and other warlike material, which Col. Quinté vainly endeavored to take across on his way to Fort Frontenac. But the truth is, if such material have been seen, they were the contents of a military sleigh which, while passing up through here in the winter of 1812–13, heavily laden, broke through the thin ice. We now enter Northport, at the eastern side of Big Bay; and the land, on every hand, tells of comfort and thrift, and quiet peace. Next, the wider portion of the Bay, which has received the name of Big Bay, is passed over. To the left is Big Island, and Grape Island, where the Rev. Mr. Case endeavoured to civilize and Christianize a community of Mississaugas. We now pass through the Narrows, and the spires of Belleville Churches may be seen in the distance. From Big Bay to the Carrying Place, there is great uniformity in the appearance of the land on either side, excepting upon the south shore at about seven miles from the head of the Bay. Here, where is the Village of Rednersville, is a somewhat remarkable hill, which, commencing at this point, extends up along the Bay toward the end. It is separated from the western extremity of the High Shore by a valley, through which, at one time, the waters of Ontario flowed; and, when this hill was an island. The rock of this hill consists of shaly limestone, similar to that which forms the bed of the Moira. We now approach the end of our voyage, and, as the steamer enters the port at Trenton, we can see the basin which forms the end of the bay, in which rests one Island known as Indian Island. Taking the Bay Quinté in its whole extent, the events of the past belonging to this quiet sheet of water, are of no ordinary interest. The tourist of to-day, while he admires the beauty as he passes along, sees no trace of the past. The placid water, no more reflects the trim and light canoe of birch, no longer the clumsy, but staunch batteau, or Durham boat, nor the Skenectady boat. No more is heard the oar of the Canadian voyageur, keeping time by tuneful voices.