To the far west the Allan liner that passed by an hour before is mingling its smoke and vapor with that of the barge, and building strange and fantastic castles in the air. To the east Red Island looks like a long pontoon craft calmly sailing over the waters. Before us the mountain range that erstwhile was dark, and dimly visible, is now clearing and coming within view, and shows light and shade of green fields and darker woodland.
As if by magic, the water has suddenly taken on a deep blue, and the effect is to make the distant hills further off than they seemed before. Now we pass through a river of molten silver, the wake of a vessel that went by long ago. Gliding through, we reach a lake-like expanse, cerulean in hue, and St. Catharines comes into view over the bow of our vessel, with Tadousac beyond on the right.
We are now nearing the famous Saguenay, where the mariners of ten centuries ago tarried after their long voyage to the ‘Ultima Thule’ of those remote days.
That which appeared to be a huge cloud bank over the rent in the mountain range, where pours out the river in a mighty flood, is now assuming form as a second and greater range beyond, dwarfing more and more the high riparian hills into comparative insignificance.
But Tadousac is near, its grand prospect is spread out for our gaze on every side, and we are making fast to a wharf in a romantic, rocky cove—both wharf and cove presenting the appearance of having dropped out of some picture-book in the clouds, so charming and striking is the whole scene.
Tadousac
Tadousac was named by the native Montagnais Indians, the word meaning mounds, or, as in this case, mountains. It has been said that the village is placed like a nest in the midst of granite rocks that surround the mouth of the Saguenay. It is built on a crescent-like terrace, backed and flanked by mountains, and has a fine view over the harbor, river, and distant shore of the St. Lawrence. The whole life of the place is so tranquil and uncommercial that it does not intrude on the visitor’s pleasure. It does not follow from this that there is an absence of life here—quite the contrary, for Tadousac is a favorite resort of thousands; but what is meant is that throngs are rarely seen on the streets or roads. A thousand people may arrive on one of the great steamboats, and for a while a scene of activity prevails at the wharf; but in a short time they disperse for the roads, woods, lakes, park, shore and hotels, and soon the usual tranquility prevails. There is nothing to mar the repose of the slumbering little Chapel of the Jesuits on the heights; and its bell, over three centuries old, still rings true. The Government Piscicultural Station, or salmon hatchery, is beautifully placed and kept, overlooking the wharf and rocky cove. Here the little creek Anse a l’Eau makes out, and the tiny waterfall, the lake, the platform walks, the summer house, and climbing on the rocky slopes, attract many to a quiet enjoyment of their beauties.
Milking Time