This old man said, that he thought the winters were formerly much colder than they are now. There fell likewise a greater quantity of snow, when he was young. He could remember the time when pumpions, cucumbers, &c. were killed by the frost about mid-summer, and he assured me, that the summers were warmer now than they used to be formerly. About thirty and some odd years ago, there was such a severe winter in Canada, that the frost killed many birds; but the old man [[259]]could not remember the particular year. Every body allowed, that the summers in 1748, and 1749, had been warmer in Canada than they have been many years ago.
The soil is reckoned pretty fertile; and wheat yields nine or ten grains from one. But when this old man was a boy, and the country was new and rich every where, they could get twenty, or four-and-twenty, grains from one. They sow but little rye here; nor do they sow much barley, except for the use of cattle. They complain, however, that when they have a bad crop, they are obliged to bake bread of barley.
September the 14th. This morning we got up early, and pursued our journey. After we had gone about two French miles, we got into lake St. Pierre, which we crossed. Many plants, which are common in our Swedish lakes, swim at the top of this water. This lake is said to be covered every winter with such strong ice, that a hundred loaded horses could go over it together with safety.
A craw-fish, or river lobster, somewhat like a crab, but quite minute, about two geometrical lines long, and broad in proportion, was frequently drawn up by us with the aquatic weeds, its colour is a pale greenish white. [[260]]
The cordated Pontederia[105] grows plentiful on the sides of a long and narrow canal of water, in the places frequented by our water-lilies[106]. A great number of hogs wade far into this kind of strait, and sometimes duck the greatest part of their bodies under water, in order to get at the roots, which they are very fond of.
As soon as we were got through lake St. Pierre, the face of the country was entirely changed, and became as agreeable as could be wished. The isles, and the land on both sides of us, looked like the prettiest pleasure-gardens; and this continued till near Montreal.
Near every farm on the river-side there are some boats, hollowed out of the trunks of single trees, but commonly neat and well made, having the proper shape of boats. In one single place I saw a boat made of the bark of trees.
September the 15th. We continued our journey early this morning. On account of the strength of the river, which came down against us, we were sometimes obliged to let the rowers go on shore, and draw the boat. [[261]]
At four o’clock in the evening we arrived at Montreal; and our voyage was reckoned a happy one, because the violence of the river flowing against us all the way, and the changeableness of the winds, commonly protract it to two weeks.
September the 19th. Several people here in town have got the French vines, and planted them in their gardens. They have two kinds of grapes, one of a pale green, or almost white; the other, of a reddish brown colour. From the white ones they say, white wine is made; and from the red ones, red wine. The cold in winter obliges them to put dung round the roots of the vines, without which they would be killed by the frost. The grapes began to be ripe in these days; the white ones are a little sooner ripe than the red ones. They make no wine of them here, because it is not worth while; but they are served up at deserts. They say these grapes do not grow so big here as in France.