The people whom you meet in the streets of Montreal seem to come from almost every nation in the world. Now it may be the immensely pompous Englishman, who represents some wilderness district in Parliament; and now it may be the cunning Scotchman, or a half-famished Irishman. Sometimes it is the speculating American, or the humble and industrious Jew; the gay and polite Habitan, or a group of wandering Indians from the far north. The better class of Montreal people (so called by a fashionable world), are the British settlers, or, rather, the English population. Generally speaking, they are highly intelligent, and somewhat arbitrary in expressing their opinions; but they entertain hospitable feelings towards strangers. They boast of their mother country, as if her glory and power were omnipotent; and an occasional individual may be found who will not scruple to insult an American if he happens to defend his own. In religion, they are generally Episcopalians; they hate the Habitan, look with contempt upon the poor Irish, and address their brethren of Scotland with a patronizing air. They drink immense quantities of wine, and those who happen to be the illiterate members of the Provincial Parliament, think themselves the greatest people on earth.
The island upon which Montreal is located, is seventy miles in circumference, and was once (if not now), the property of an order of Catholic priesthood. In the rear of the city rises a noble hill, called Mount Royal, from which it derives its name. The hill itself is thickly wooded; but the surrounding country is exceedingly fertile, and studded with elegant country-seats, and the rural abodes of the peasantry. A ride around the Mount, on a pleasant day, is one of the most delightful imaginable, commanding a view of Montreal and the St. Lawrence valley which is grand beyond compare.
To appreciate the unique features of Montreal, it is necessary that you should be there on the Sabbath, the gala-day of the Catholics. Then it is that the peasantry flock into the city from all directions, and, when they are pouring into the huge cathedral by thousands, dressed in a thousand fantastic fashions, cracking their jokes, and laughing as they move along, the entire scene is apt to fill one with peculiar feelings. It was beautiful to look at; but the thought struck me that I should hate to live in the shadow of that cathedral forever. But if you chance to take a walk in the suburbs, on a Sabbath afternoon, you will notice much that cannot but afford you real satisfaction. You will find almost every cottage a fit subject for a picture; and the flocks of neatly-dressed, happy, and polite children playing along the roads, together with frequent groups of sober men, sitting in a porch, and the occasional image of a beautiful girl, or contented mother leaning out of a window,—all these things, I say, constitute a charm which is not met with everywhere. But enough; Montreal is a tine city, and I trust that it will yet be my fortune to visit it again, and see more of its polished society.
CHAPTER XI.
Quebec.
Quebec, June.
I came from Montreal to this city in the day time, and, consequently, had an opportunity of examining this portion of the St. Lawrence. The river opposite Montreal runs at the rate of six miles per hour, and is two miles wide; it preserves this breadth for about sixty miles, and then expands into the beautiful and emerald-looking lake of St. Peter, after which it varies from one to five in width until it reaches Quebec, which is distant from Montreal one hundred and eighty miles. Above St. Peter the shores vary from five to fifteen feet in height, but below the lake they gradually become more elevated until they measure some three hundred feet in the vicinity of Quebec. The country between the two Canadian cities is well cultivated, and on either side may be seen a continued succession of rural cottages.
Our steamer approached Quebec at the sunset hour, and I must say that I have never witnessed a more superb prospect than was presented by the lofty citadel city, the contracted St. Lawrence, the opposite headland called Point Levi, and the far distant land which I knew to be Cape Tourment. A stiff breeze was blowing at the time, and some twenty ships were sailing to and fro, while we had to make our way into port by winding between and around some three hundred ships which were at anchor.
I have seen much in this goodly city which has made a deep impression on my mind. The promontory called Cape Diamond upon which it stands, is formed by the junction of the St. Charles and St. Lawrence rivers, and rises to the height of three hundred and fifty feet above the water. The city is built from the water’s edge along the base of the cliff, and from thence, in a circuitous manner, ascends to the very border of the citadel and ramparts. There is but one street leading from the lower to the upper town, and that is narrow and very steep, and the gateway is defended by a number of large cannon. The city is remarkably irregular, and, as many of the buildings are quite ancient, its appearance is picturesque and romantic. The fortifications cover an area of forty acres, and beneath them are many spacious and gloomy vaults for the reception of ammunition and stores during a time of war.—Receding into the interior, from the very brow of the fortress, are the plains of Abraham, which are covered with a rich green sod, and planted with unnumbered cannon. Their historical associations are numerous, and, as they would fill a chapter in themselves, I will refrain from dwelling upon them, at this time.