When the gallant Quinté flying
From the savage of the west,
On the cheerless hills lay dying,
With fierce cold and hunger pressed:
And his bones were left unburied,
But his name won’t pass away,
While there’s beauty on thy hill-side,
Or thy waters gently play.”
“Steamer Bay of Quinté.”
Mr. T. C. Wallbridge, to whom we are indebted for the foregoing, informs us that upon the day this was written, a learned judge (Robinson) now dead, was a passenger from Belleville to Kingston, and the inference was that he penned the lines, which must have been based upon what he considered facts. The same tradition has been received also, from other sources, and many living upon the bay, regard it as true. But it becomes our duty to question the matter. In the first place unfortunately, for the plausibility of the statement, the name of no such French officer can be found.