Part 8 (1/2)
CHAPTER IV
THE RIVER OF HOCHELAGA.
It was about three hours before the _Corsican_ emerged from the last labyrinth of foliage-clad, pine-crested islands, and came in sight of the little town of Brockville. The banks of the river, as they approached, varying from a high table-land to a low, rocky sh.o.r.e, were lined with summer cottages, where holiday makers were evidently enjoying themselves with a prodigality of hunting and an ample supply of skiffs. Here and there, they came upon a little flotilla of boats, setting out for an all-day excursion, whose pa.s.sengers waved their hats and cheered, as if they had been the first Indians who beheld the white man's ”winged canoes.” A ferry boat was busily plying up and down, embarking and disembarking pa.s.sengers at the little piers that fringed the sh.o.r.e, and an air of holiday brightness seemed to pervade the scene. There was a short stoppage at Brockville, and then the _Corsican_ was off again, and the last of the ”Thousand Islands” were soon left far behind.
It was a still, soft, dreamy August day, and the sail down the calm, broad stretch succeeding was almost sleepy in its tranquillity.
Prescott and its neighboring windmill elicited some historic reminiscences from Mrs. Sandford concerning the time when poor rash Von Schultz held his extemporized fortress against an unequal force, only to be overpowered at last, and to expiate his reckless credulity on a scaffold at Fort Henry, which they had so recently seen.
Then there were the _Galops_ Rapids, and a little later the small Rapid Du Plat, and then the historic a.s.sociations of Chrysler's Farm.
Afterwards the steamer began to heave and plunge as the snowy crests of the great white coursers of the _Long Sault_ gleamed before them, rising like ocean breakers to meet the gallant vessel, which plunged in upon them with almost conscious pride, and rode triumphantly over them with an exultant swaying movement, more like the bounding of a spirited steed than of a piece of inanimate matter. Hugh was delighted beyond expression, and so were May and Flora. It was even grander than either had antic.i.p.ated, and both breathed a deep sigh of regret when the last buoyant leap was over, and the steamer floated, with her ordinary motion, into the calm expanse in front of the town of Cornwall. And now there were blue hills to be seen on the horizon to their right, as they pa.s.sed down the quiet sweep of river, with a few green islands dotting the channel, on which they could catch, here and there, glimpses of summer cottages and camping parties that reminded them of the ”Thousand Islands,” though with a considerable difference, for here was nothing like the same scope for boating or variety of scenery as in that enchanted region. Then there was the long, sleepy afternoon sail across the wide Lake St. Francis, during which Mrs.
Sandford retired to her state-room to make up for her lost morning slumber, and the three girls drowsed over the books they were professing to read. May had brought out her cherished copy of ”The Chance Acquaintance,” which she had with her, but had kept in reserve till now, that she might revive her recollections of its fascinating pictures, and enjoy in advance the grey old city, which she had already seen so often in imagination; and was now, at length, to behold with her bodily eyes. As she dropped the book at last, overcome by the sleepy influence of the afternoon, Hugh took it up, and had become much interested in its fascinating pages, when the whistle of the steamer, on arriving at Coteau Du Lac, startled the girls out of their nap, and woke them up, laughing over the oblivion which had swallowed up the last two hours. The little French village of ”The Coteau,” with its long pier, and the little brown houses and big church, gave the travellers a first glimpse into French Canada, quite in keeping with the spirit of the little book; and the succeeding scenery, growing every moment more picturesque, was to May idealized with a touch of poetry reflected from Mr. Howells' charming little romance. After leaving the Coteau village, they pa.s.sed the short Coteau Rapids, and then the drowsy old village of Beauharnois, with a pastoral landscape of green uplands and bowery orchards behind it,--after which they saw before them, beneath a richly wooded sh.o.r.e, a glittering stretch of interwoven blue and silver. And soon the steamer began to pitch herself forward, as she was swiftly hurried down the rapid incline, past cedar-covered points and islets,--so swiftly that it seemed as if they could scarcely take in the striking beauty of the scene till it had been left behind and the rapid was past. And thus in quick succession they pa.s.sed ”The Cascades” with its white breakers glittering in the sun, and the ”Split Rock” with its great black jagged boulders, past which they flew like a flash; after which, as the afternoon suns.h.i.+ne began to slant softly on the water, they glided out on the great placid reach of Lake St. Louis. The distant blue range of the Adirondacks had remained on their right for a considerable portion of their way, but now, before them, rose the soft, cloud-like vision,--apparently triple in its conformation, which Kate announced was Cartier's ”Mont Royal,” at the feet of which lay the city of Montreal. It held their eyes with a spell of fascination as they crossed the lake, growing more and more distinct until they could distinguish its various divisions and the ma.s.ses of woodland that clothed it, and even the large buildings which here and there gleamed out from its darker ma.s.s.
And now they were pa.s.sing the Indian village of Caughnawaga, with its long line of little French-looking houses fringing the sh.o.r.e, while on their left lay Lachine, with the glorious green mountain--a ma.s.s of verdure from top to bottom, rising behind the straggling white village, flanked by its grey stone church and _Presbytere_, while the western sun shed a flood of golden glory over the s.h.i.+ning lake. Then came the descent of the Lachine Rapids, the most exciting of all, and the three travellers who saw it for the first time, held their breath as the steamer rushed on, within a hair-breadth, as it seemed, of striking the jagged rocks, that raised their rough black heads above the white breakers. There was not the ma.s.s and the thunder of water of the Long Sault, nor the silvery beauty and rush of the Cedars and Cascades, but the black rocks and ledges that seemed lying in wait, like black monsters, to crush the vessel between their cruel teeth, recalled to Hugh the old fable of Scylla and Charybdis. It was grandly exciting to see the steamer, like a living thing, dart shuddering by them, and rush at headlong speed through the boiling surges, with the long wooded stretch of Nun's Island nestling, as it seemed, amid the tossing waves, while the long spans of the Lachine and Victoria bridges loomed up in front of them, and the bold mountain summits of Bel[oe]il and Boucherville a.s.sumed exquisite violet hues under the magic touch of the rapidly setting sun, which also lighted up the ma.s.sive city before them. There was hardly time to take in the full beauty of the _coup d'[oe]il_ before the steamer was under Victoria Bridge, the height of which they could not realize till they saw that the tall masts could pa.s.s under it without being lowered. Presently they were in the Ca.n.a.l Basin, amid what seemed a forest of masts and s.h.i.+pping, and May, to her delight, could distinguish the great black hulls of some ocean steamers lying in port. The long lines of ma.s.sive grey store-houses and docks also much impressed her unaccustomed eye; but these were soon left behind as they drove rapidly up to the Windsor Hotel, where they were to spend the next day. They were all hungry enough, after their long afternoon in the open air, to enjoy heartily the late dinner in the s.p.a.cious dining-room of the Windsor, with its glittering lights, its long rows of tables and lively groups of guests. After dinner, the girls wandered through the long corridors and sumptuous drawing-rooms, till May, at least, who had never been in so large a hotel in her life, was quite bewildered by all the grandeur. Then they sat on a balcony looking out on the long twinkling ranks of electric lights, contrasting with the silvery radiance of the moonlight, while Kate described to them vividly the glories of a winter carnival she had seen, and the pure white, translucent beauty of the wondrous Ice Palace which had silently risen in the Square before them, and had afterwards, as it seemed, dissolved like a dream, under the gentle touch of approaching spring.
Next morning they were all a.s.sembled at breakfast so early that they had the dining-hall pretty much to themselves. A carriage had been ordered for nine o'clock, as they did not wish to lose any of the bright morning, and they drove for some hours--first, through the old-fas.h.i.+oned French streets, past Notre Dame and the old Gray Nunnery and the Bonsecours market, and the point where the first settlement of Ville Marie was inaugurated, as Parkman has so graphically described it. They looked at the old Bonsecours church, which recalled to Hugh and Flora similar old churches in Normandy, then drove up St. Denis street, past Our Lady of Lourdes and the other ecclesiastical buildings which cl.u.s.ter around it, and finished their morning with a glimpse at the pretty Art Gallery.
After luncheon they again set off, and drove along Sherbrooke Street and through McGill College grounds, inspecting its groups of fine buildings, and through the bosky avenues that run upward to ”the mountain,” and then up to ”the mountain” itself, enjoying the magnificent views, from the Mountain Park drive, of plain and river and distant hills, quite as much as did Champlain, who could not see, even in a vision, the stately city that now replaces the Indian wigwams and maize-fields, which then bore the name of Hochelaga. They ascended to the very brow of the n.o.ble hill, taking in, as they went, the whole sweep of view, from the winding course towards Quebec on the left, to the extreme right, where they could catch a glimpse of the Lachine Rapids, flas.h.i.+ng white in the suns.h.i.+ne.
The day pa.s.sed only too swiftly in this pleasant sight-seeing, and they had to be at their hotel for a six o'clock dinner, in order to be ready to leave for Quebec at seven. When at last they drove off, Kate gave the order, ”to the Quebec boat!” May heaved a deep sigh of pleasure. It seemed as if her cup was now indeed full.
They found the large double-decked steamer filling up rapidly with parties of tourists, some of them evidently--from their piles of luggage--_en route_ for Murray Bay, or Metis, or some other watering-place on the Gulf. Quebec was to them an everyday affair, and they talked of it in a careless and cursory fas.h.i.+on which to May, with her enthusiastic veneration for its a.s.sociations, seemed little less than sacrilege.
As they pa.s.sed down the smooth winding river, while the twilight was falling, silvered by the brightening moon, Flora began to talk of Mr.
Winthrop, and to express her regret at his inability to come on with them. ”It was too bad,” she added, ”that Hugh forestalled him, in going to Kate's rescue, was it not? I'm afraid he will hardly forgive Hugh in a hurry.”
”But Hugh couldn't have waited for him,” said May.
”What are you two talking about?” asked Kate, whose ear had been caught by the words, while talking to her aunt and Hugh.
”Oh, we were only talking about poor Mr. Winthrop,” replied Flora, ”and his vexation with Hugh for getting before him in rescuing you.”
”Why should he have _let_ Hugh get before him, then?” she asked.
Hugh looked up with a half-puzzled air; then it seemed as if something had dawned upon him--previously unthought of--and, in a few explicit words, he explained the whole situation, doing ample justice to Mr.
Winthrop. Kate listened attentively, and though she was very quiet all the rest of the evening, May fancied that her face was cleared of a shadow that had clouded it before. She took up May's ”Chance Acquaintance” and soon became absorbed in it,--not laying it down till she had rushed through it to the last page.
”Wasn't it too bad,” said Flora, ”that Kitty sent off Mr. Arbuton like that?”
”_I_ think it was too bad that Mr. Arbuton didn't _come back_,”
retorted Kate. ”If he only had done _that_, a few days after, Kitty would have forgiven him and he could have made a fresh start.”
”I feel sure that he _did_, in the end,” a.s.serted May, dogmatically.
”I mean to write a sequel to it some day!” and then they all went off to their berths.
The three girls were up almost by daylight in the morning, watching the brightening suns.h.i.+ne flush the red rock of Cap Rouge, and then the gradual unfolding of the river panoramas as they pa.s.sed headland after headland, each opening a fair, new vista beyond. Soon a glittering church steeple gleamed out from the southern sh.o.r.e, rising protectingly over white villages nestling at their feet. Curving recesses of the wooded bank, outlined by one long, picturesque French village street, followed the bend of the sh.o.r.e to the left. ”That is Sillery,” said Kate, in reply to May's eager enquiries.
”Oh,” said May, ”that is the place where the old Jesuit residence was,--that Kitty and Mr. Arbuton went to see.”
After the point of Sillery was rounded, there rose, at last, before their delighted eyes, the historic grey rock of Quebec, with its mural-crowned rampart and bastions, and the houses and convents and great churches of the old city climbing up its sides or rambling along the plateau at its foot.