The front grounds were utilized as a model garden and orchard, in which every improvement in horticulture had been adopted and were laid out in plots and gravelled walks. In rear of the house was a miniature pond, enlivened by waterfowl and turtles, and whose banks were adorned with water plants and ferns, and receding thence were plateaux, covered with flowers of every description.
In addition to the picturesque appearance and commanding position of Mr. Perrault's house, the internal arrangements of the apartments deserve notice, particularly as in them often met the leading men of Quebec, where they discussed the fluctuations of the public mind, benevolent enterprises and matters of general interest. The parlor in the Asyle Champêtre was well known to the élite and leaders of society of that day; elegantly, but not luxuriously, furnished; the carpet was made of flax, sown and grown on the grounds adjoining his schools, and woven by the pupils; the walls were hung with valuable paintings and ornamented by objects of virtû artistically arranged. From the centre descended a lustre of six candles; at the rear angles were large circular mirrors, one concave and the other convex, with lights on each side, reflecting every object in movement in the apartment. Two bronze statues, or candelabra, with lights, guarded either side of the hall door, in keeping with the surroundings; the hangings and furniture were in the style of Louis XIV., in which the colours harmoniously blended. On the left hand of this apartment was Mr. Perrault's library, in which was a choice collection of Greek, Latin, English, French and Spanish works, on philosophy, history and les belles lettres. No one had a higher respect for the classics than he; the odes of Horace, the poems of Virgil and the orations of Cicero were as familiar to him as the best sermons of Bossuet or the tragedies of Racine. On the right was another room, with a piano and organ, to which the family devoted much attention, and lovers of music were certain of hearing there excellent performances and well-cultivated voices.
Those who bad the privilege of enjoying his hospitality on ordinary occasions, could never forget the hearty welcome of their whole-souled entertainer; and on two particular days, the first of January and the fête de St. Joseph, his patron saint, they had still better reason for its remembrance. These social gatherings were for months looked forward to as the events of the season, and for many a day subsequently they recalled most agreeable recollections. As was then the custom, the guests arrived early in the afternoon and took their departure at the unfashionable hour of nine, and in the interval engaged themselves in dancing, in games, in listening to brilliant executions on different musical instruments and the rich melody of well-trained voices, in ballad and song, clever repartees and intellectual conversation, while the supper table, laden with all the delicacies procurable, was a continual feast from the opening to the close of the entertainment. The guests were escorted down the avenue by their host and his family, and as he bade them good night, the shouts and merry laughter of the younger ones rang joyfully in the night air, startling the passers by with their frolicsome happiness.
Mr. Perrault's table had a wide reputation, and although he never issued general invitations, it was rarely without two, or more, guests, for those who happened to be at the Asyle at meal time were cordially invited to join in the family repast. From taste and habit, his board ever presented a tempting display; but, as regards himself, he was most abstemious, partaking sparingly and of but few dishes, while to his guests his hospitality was unbounded. His old cook sometimes found her task hard, or pretended to; and on one occasion, returning from confession, she remarked that she had said to M. le Curé, when he counselled patience and submission, "je voudrais bien vous y voir," (I would like to see you in my place). Even in those days cooks were testy, for, when Mr. Perrault found fault with her, she would answer as impertinently as one could in these days: "voulez-vous que je vous dise la vérité? Vous commencez à être dégoûté de ma cuisine," (Do you want me to tell you the truth? You are getting tired of my cooking). To the tried and impatient, the above incidents will cause them to ask themselves if there be any truth in the old saying: "God sent us food and the devil sent us cooks."
A custom illustrative of the habits of that period, was the visit of relations on New Year's morning. Old and young presented themselves at five o'clock and repaired in a file to Mr. Perrault's bedroom to receive his blessing. He afterwards rose, dressed and made all happy by giving them suitable presents and paying graceful compliments. Later in the day was witnessed a still more interesting scene, when his pupils, of both sexes, and doubtless to their fullest number, arrived at his hospitable mansion to offer him their grateful acknowledgements of his kindness. A table, close by where he sat, in a large arm chair, was covered with piles of "horns of plenty," filled with sweetmeats, and to each he presented one, with a small piece of silver; and these children, who needed more substantial gifts, had but to make their wants known and they were rarely refused.
On that day he also made calls immediately after Grand Mass, in the extremity of his politeness carrying his hat under his arm, regardless of the weather, with the queue of his wig blown to and fro by the wind. His arrival, as a matter of coarse, caused a social stir, often recalled with pleasure by many afterwards.
MARCHMONT.
"Oh! give me a home on that bold classic height,
Where in sweet contemplation in age's dark night,
I may tread o'er the plain where as histories tell
Britain's stout-hearted Wolfe in his victory fell."
Adjoining the expanse of table land, now known as the Plains of Abraham, and divided from it to the east by a high fence, lies with a southern exposure a level and well-cultivated farm—Marchmont— tastefully laid out some sixty summers ago by Sir John Harvey, next occupied for several years by Sir Thomas Noel Hill, subsequently owned by Hon. John Stewart, and for more than twenty years the residence of John Gilmour, Esquire, of the well-known Glasgow house of Pollock, Gilmour & Co. [223] To the west, Marchmont farm is bounded by Wolfesfield; to the south by the river heights, having a valuable timber cove (Wolfe's cove) attached to it. The dwelling, a cheerful and sunny residence, decks a sloping lawn, not far from the high bank, embedded as it were in a clump of fir, ash, maple and pine trees, which conceal it from St. Lewis road, and afford, on the opposite side, a variety of charming glimpses of our noble estuary, the main artery of western commerce. A spacious and richly-stocked conservatory opens on the drawing-room to the west of the house. The embellishment was erected by the late John Gilmour, who also added a vinery.
In the summer months, visitors travelling past Marchmont cannot fail to notice the magnificent hawthorn hedge, interspersed here and there with young maple, which encloses it on the St. Lewis road.