Picturesque Quebec : a sequel to Quebec past and present

by Sir J. M. Le Moine

QUEBEC, March 14, 1789.

DEAREST MOTHER,—I got here yesterday after a very long and, what some people would think, a very tedious and fatiguing journey; but to me it was, at most, only a little fatiguing, and to make up for that, it was delightful and quite new. We were thirty days on our march, twenty-six of which we were in the woods, and never saw a soul but our own party.

You must know we came through a part of the country that had always been reckoned impassable. In short, instead of going a long way about, we determined to try and get straight through the woods, and see what kind of country it was. I believe I mentioned my party in a letter to Ogilvie (his step-father) before I left St. Anne's or Fredericton: it was an officer of the regiment, Tonny, and two woodsmen. The officer and I used to draw part of our baggage day about, and the other day steer (by compass), which we did so well, that we made the point we intended within ten miles. We were only wrong in computing our distances and making them a little too great, which obliged us to follow a new course, and make a river, which led us round to Quebec, instead of going straight to it. * * * I expect my leave by the first despatches. * * * I shall not be able to leave this part of the world till May, as I cannot get my leave before that. How I do long to see you. Your old love, Lord Dorchester, is very civil to me. I must, though, tell you a little more of the journey. After making the river, we fell in with some savages, and travelled with them to Quebec; they were very kind to us, and said we were "all one brother," "all one indian." They fed us the whole time we were with them. You would have laughed to have seen me carrying an old squaw's pack, which was so heavy I could hardly waddle under it. However, I was well paid whenever we stopped, for she always gave me the best bits and most soup, and took as much care of me as if I had been her own son; in short, I was quite l'enfant chéri. We were quite sorry to part: the old lady and gentleman both kissed me very heartily. I gave the old lady one of Sophia's silver spoons, which pleased her very much. When we got here, you may guess what figures we were. We had not shaved nor washed during the journey; our blanket-coats and trousers all worn out and pieced, in short, we went to two or three houses and they would not let us in. There was one old lady, exactly the hôtesse in Gil Blas, elle me prit la mesure du pied jusqu'à la tête, and told me there was one room, without a stove or bed, next a billiard room, which I might have if I pleased, and when I her told we were gentlemen, she very quietly said, "I dare say you are," and off she went. However, at last we got lodgings in an ale house, and you may guess ate well and slept well, and went next day well dressed, with one of Lord Dorchester's aide-de-camps to triumph over the old lady; in short, exactly the story in Gil Blas.

We are quite curiosities here after our journey, some think we were mad to undertake it, some think we were lost; some will have it we were starved; there were a thousand lies, but we are safe and well, enjoying rest and good eating, most completely. One ought really to take these fillips now and then, they make one enjoy life a great deal more.

The hours here are a little inconvenient to us as yet; whenever we wake at night we want to eat, the same as in the woods, and as soon as we eat we want to sleep. In our journey we were always up two hours before day, to load and get ready to march, we used to stop between three and four, and it generally took us from that till night to shovel out the snow, cut wood, cook and get ready for night, so that immediately after our suppers we were asleep, and whenever any one awakes in the night, he puts some wood on the fire, and eats a bit before he lies down again; but for my part, I was not much troubled with waking in the night.

"I really do think there is no luxury equal to that of lying before a good fire on a good spruce bed, after a good supper, and a hard moose chase in a fine clear frosty moonlit starry night. But to enter into the spirit of this, you must understand what a moose chase is: the man himself runs the moose down by pursuing the track. Your success in killing depends on the number of people you have to pursue and relieve one another in going first (which is the fatiguing part of snow- shoeing), and on the depth and hardness of the snow, for when the snow is hard and has a crust, the moose cannot get on, as it cuts his legs, and then he stops to make battle. But when the snow is soft, though it be above his belly, he will go on three, four or five days, for then the man cannot get on so fast, as the snow is heavy and he only gets his game by perseverance—an Indian never gives him up." Then follows a most graphic description of a hunt—closing with the death of the noble quarry.

"Pray," continues Lord Edward, "write to uncle Richmond, I would write if there was time, but I have only time to fill up this."

Tom Moore adds, that the plan of Lord Edward's route through the woods was forwarded from Quebec to the Duke of Richmond, by Mr. Hamilton Moore, in a letter dated Quebec, May 22nd, 1789, this letter closes with the following:—"Lord Edward has met with the esteem and admiration of all here."

In a subsequent epistle to Mr. Ogilvie, his step-father, dated "Quebec, 12th April, 1789," Lord Edward mentions the death of the Lieut.-Governor of Quebec (Major Patrick Bellew). "It is a place of £1,600 a year, and I think would do well for Charles. The day before he died I was in treaty for his Lieut.-Colonelcy in the 44th Regiment."

Later, on 4th May, 1789, he writes from Montreal, and speaks gratefully of the open-handed hospitality extended to him, and of the kind lady friends he met at Quebec. (Page 67.)