We have here endeavored to contrast the smiling present with the dreary past; peace, progress, wealth, as we find it to-day in this important appendage of the British Crown, ready to expand into an empire, with the dismal appearance of things when it was scantily settled, and in those dark days when war stalked through our land. Hamwood takes its name from that of the paternal estate of the Hamiltons, county of Meath, Ireland, and without pretending to architectural excellence, it is one of the loveliest spots on the St. Foye road. It belongs to Robert Hamilton, Esq., a leading merchant of Quebec.
BIJOU.
And I have heard the whispers of the trees,
And the low laughter of the wandering wind,
Mixed with the hum of golden-belted bees,
And far away, dim echoes, undefined,—
That yet had power to thrill my listening ear,
Like footsteps of the spring that is so near.
—(Wood Voices, KATE S. McL.)
Shall we confess that we ever had a fancy for historical contrasts? It is our weakness, perhaps our besetting sin; and when, on a balmy June day, at the hour when the king of day it sipping the dew-drops from the flowers, we ride past this unadorned but charming little Canadian home, next to Westfield, on the St. Foye heights, as it were sunning itself amidst emerald fields, fanned by the breath of the fragrant morn, enlivened by the gambols of merry childhood; memory, in spite of us, brings back the ghastly sights, the sickening Indian horrors, witnessed here on the 28th April, 1760. There can be no doubt on this point; the mute, but eloquent witnesses of the past are dug up every day: shot, shell, bullets, old bayonets, decayed military buttons, all in the greatest profusion.
"The savages," says Garneau, "who were nearly all in the woods behind during the fight, spread over the battle-field when the French were pursuing the enemy, and killed many of the wounded British, whose scalps were afterwards found upon neighboring bushes. As soon as De Lévis was apprised of the massacre, he took vigorous measures for putting a stop to it. Within a comparatively narrow space nearly 2,500 men had been struck by bullets. The patches of snow and icy puddles on the ground were so reddened with the blood shed, that the frozen ground refused to absorb, and the wounded survivors of the battle were immersed in pools of gore and filth, ankle deep."
Such was the deadly strife in April, 1760, on the identical spot on which, reader, you and we now stand on the St. Foye heights. Such is now the smiling aspect of things as you see them at Bijou, which crowns the heights over the great Bijou marsh, etc., the dwelling of Andrew Thomson, Esq., (now President of the Union Bank of Quebec.) Some natural springs in the flower garden, in rear of the dwelling, and slopes of the ground, when turned to advantage, in the way of terraces and fountains, bid fair to enhance materially the beauty of this rustic spot.
ANECDOTE OF WOLFE'S ARMY (1760).—QUEBEC.
By a volunteer (J. T.).
"At the Battle of the Plains of Abraham we had but one Piper, and because he was not provided with Arms and the usual other means of defence, like the rest of the men, he was made to keep aloof for safety:—When our line advanced to the charge, General Townshend observing that the Piper was missing, and knowing well the value of one on such occasions, he sent in all directions for him, and he was heard to say aloud. "Where's the Highland Piper?" and "Five pounds for a Piper;" but devil a bit did the Piper come forward the sooner. However, the charge, by good chance, was pretty well effected without him, as all those that escaped could testify. For this business the Piper was disgraced by the whole of the Regiment, and the men would not speak to him, neither would they suffer his rations to be drawn with theirs, but had them serv'd out by the Commissary separately, and he was obliged to shift for himself as well as he could.
The next spring, in the month of April, when the Garrison of Quebec was so madly march'd out, to meet the French, who had come down again to attack us, and while we were on the retreat back to the Town, the Highlanders, who were a raw undisciplin'd set, were got into great disorder, and had become more like a mob than regular soldiers. On the way I fell in with a captain Moses Hazen, [278] a Jew, who commanded a company of Rangers, and who was so badly wounded, that his servant, who had to carry him away, was obliged to rest him on the grounds at every twenty or thirty yards, owing to the great pain he endured. This intrepid fellow, observing that there was a solid column of the French coming on over that high ground where Commissary General Craigie [279] built his house, and headed by an Officer who was at some distance in advance of the column, he ask'd his servant if his fuzee was stil loaded? (The servant opened the pan, and found it is still prim'd). "Do you see," says Captain Hazen, "that fellow there, waving his sword to encourage those other fellows to come forward?"—Yes, says the servant, I do Sir;—Then, says the Captain again, "just place your back against mine for one moment, 'till I see if I can bring him down." He accordingly stretch'd himself on the ground, and, resting the muzzle of his fuzee on his toes, he let drive at the French Officer. I was standing close behind him, and I thought it perfect madness to attempt it. However, away went the charge after him, and faith down he was in an instant. Both the Captain and myself were watching for some minutes, under an idea that altho' he had laid down, he might perhaps take it into his head to get up again. But no. And the moment that he fell, the whole column that he was leading on, turn'd about and decamp'd off leaving him to follow as well as he might! I could'nt help telling the Captain that he had made a capital shot, and I related to him the affair of the foolish fellow of our grenadiers who shot the savage at the landing at Louisbourg, altho' the distance was great, and the rolling of the boat so much against his taking a steady aim. "Oh! yes, says Captain Hazen, you know that a chance shot will kill the Devil himself."