The morning turned out beautifully clear and warm, at least in comparison with what it had been; and upon re-entering the sleigh we all looked extremely happy, and disposed to be pleased with everything and everybody. The country through which we now passed was picturesque and varied. Hills and valleys, covered with glittering snow and dark pines, followed each other in endless succession; while in every valley, and from every mountain-top, we saw hundreds of hamlets and villages, whose little streets and thoroughfares were crowded with busy habitants, engaged in their various occupations and winter traffic.
The laughing voices of merry little children romping along the roads accorded harmoniously with the lively tinkling of their parents’ sleigh-bells as they set out for the market with the produce of their farms, or, dressed in their whitest blanket capotes and smartest bonnets rouges, accompanied their wives and daughters to a marriage or a festival. The scene was rendered still more pleasing by the extreme clearness of the frosty air and the deep blue of the sky; while the weather was just cold enough to make the rapid motion of our sleighs agreeable and necessary.
In some places the roads were extremely precipitous; and when we arrived at the foot of a large hill we used generally to get out and walk, preferring this to being dragged slowly up by the jaded horses.
During the day our sleighs were upset several times; but Mr Stone and I, in the “extra,” suffered more in this way than those of the regular stage, as it was much narrower, and, consequently, more liable to tip over. Upon upsetting, it unaccountably happened that poor Mr Stone was always undermost. But he submitted to his fate most stoically; though from the nature of things my elbow invariably thrust him deep into the snow, on which, after being extricated, a splendid profile impression was left, to serve as a warning to other travellers, and to show them that a gentleman had been cast there.
As very little danger, however, attended these accidents, they only afforded subject for mirth at the time, and conversation at the end of the stage—except once, when the sleigh turned over so rapidly, that I was thrown with considerable force against the roof, which, being of a kind of slight framework, covered with painted canvas, offered but small opposition to my flight; my head, consequently, went quite through it, and my unfortunate nose was divested to rather an alarming extent of its cutaneous covering. With this exception, we proceeded safely and merrily along, and about seven o’clock in the evening arrived at the small town of Three Rivers.
Early next morning we resumed our journey, and about four in the afternoon arrived at the famous city of Quebec, without having encountered any very interesting adventures by the way.
The first sight we had of Quebec was certainly anything but prepossessing. A recent fire in the lower town had completely destroyed a large portion of it; and the first street I passed through was nothing but a gaunt row of blackened chimneys and skeleton houses, which had a very melancholy, ghostlike appearance when contrasted with the white snow. As we advanced, however, to where the fire had been checked, the streets assumed a more agreeable aspect—shops were open here and there, and workmen busily employed in repairing damaged houses and pulling down dangerous ones. Upon arriving at the steep street which leads from the lower town to within the walls, the immense strength of the ramparts and fortifications struck me forcibly. The road up which we passed to the gate was very narrow: on one side a steep hill descended to the lower town; and on the other towered the city walls, pierced all over with loopholes, and bristling with cannon. At the head of the road, in an angle of the wall, two silent but grim-looking guns pointed their muzzles directly down the road, so as to command it from one end to the other. All the other parts of the walls that I happened to see were even more strongly fortified than this.
The streets of Quebec are very steep, much more so than those of Edinburgh; and it requires no small exertion to mount one or two without stopping to breathe at the top. Upon the whole, it is anything but a pretty town (at least in winter), the houses being high, and the streets very narrow. The buildings, too, are commonplace; and the monument to Wolfe and Montcalm is a very insignificant affair. In fact, Quebec can boast of little else than the magnificent views it commands from the ramparts, and the impregnable strength of its fortifications. Some of the suburban villas, however, are very beautiful; and although I saw them in winter, yet I could form some idea of the enchanting places they must be in summer.
After spending three pleasant days here, we got into our sleigh again, and resumed our journey.
No stages ran below Quebec, so that we now travelled in the sleigh of a farmer, who happened to be going down part of the way.