C. Giffard, qui est designe comme seigneur de Beauport, est le fils de Robert. Il etait ne en France et devait etre encore assez jeune. C'est de lui que parle le Journal des Jesuites en disant que le fils de M. Giffard passa en France en 1646, avec d'autres jeunes gens 'tous fripons pour la plupart qui avait fait mille pieces a l'autre voyage et on donnait a tous de grands appointements.'

Ce 28 octobre il etait parrain, et il s'embarquait le 31.

Il n'est plus question de lui apres cette date, soit qu'il ait renonce au Canada, soit qu'il ait peri prematurement. Le pere repris sa seigneurie de Beauport qu'il fit agrandir le mieux put.

P. S.—En ecrivant ce qui precede, j'etais un peu presse; j'aurais du remarquer cependant que sous la lettre C, les lecteurs ne pouvaient deviner le prenom du jeune seigneur de Beauport. Il s'appelait Charles, et devait etre ne en France comme sa soeur Marie, qui devint Madame de la Ferte.

Dans l'interet de vos lecteurs je ferai remarquer que le Dictionnaire Genealogique renferme, a l'article Giffard, certaines erreurs. Ainsi, Francoise qui commence l'article est la meme que Marie Francoise qui le termine; elle se fit religieuse a l'Hotel-Dieu. L'epouse de Jean Juchereau de la Ferte fut Marie nee en France, puisque son contrat de mariage en 1645 la dite "agee de 17 ans environ" ce qui reporte sa naissance vers 1628. Charles assiste et signe un contrat. Ce n'est pas Robert Giffard, mais son fils Joseph, dont le corps fut transporte a la cathedrale, le 31 decembre 1705.

MOUNT LILAC, BEAUPORT.

Some thirty years ago, I saw, for the first time, the picturesque old manor of the Rylands at Beauport, this was in its classic days. Later on, I viewed it, mossy and forlorn, in what some might style its "non age". Of this, hereafter.

The Chateau stood embowered amidst lilac groves and other ornamental shrubs, so far as I can recollect, with a background of elms, white birch, spruce, &c. Its vaulted, lofty and well-proportioned dining-room, with antique, morocco-covered chairs, and carved buffets to store massive plate, its spacious hall and graceful winding staircase, its commanding position on the crest of the Beauport ridge, affording a striking view of Quebec, its well-stocked orchard, umbrageous plantations, and ample stables, from which issued, among other choice bits of blood, in 1842, the celebrated racer "Emigrant": several circumstances, in fact, conspired to impress it favorably on my youthful mind. On that occasion, I found le milord anglais (as a waggish Canadian peasant called him) under his ancestral roof.

Recalling our parish annals of early times, I used then to think that should England ever (which God forbid) hand back to its ancient masters "these fifteen thousand acres of snow," satirized by Voltaire, ridiculed by Madame de Pompadour, cruelly and basely deserted by Louis XV, in their hour of trial, here existed a ready-made manor for the Giffards and Duchesnays of the future, where their descendants could becomingly receive fealty and homage. (foi et homage) from their feudal retainers. There was, however, nothing here to remind one of the lordly pageantry of other times—the days of absolutism—of the dark era, the age of lettres de cachet, corvees, lods et ventes, and other feudal burthens, when the flag of the Bourbons floated over the fortress of New France. In 1846, at the time of my visit, in vain would you have sought in the farm yard for a live seigniorial capon (un chapon vif et en plumes) though possibly in the larder, at Christmas, you might have discovered some fat, tender turkeys, or a juicy haunch of venison. Of vin ordinaire ne'er a trace, but judging from the samples on the table, perhaps much mellow Madeira, and "London Stout" might have been stored in the cellars. Everywhere, in fact, was apparent English comfort, English cheer. On the walls of the banqueting apartment, or within the antique red-leathered portfolios strewn round, you would have run a greater chance of meeting face to face with the portraits of Lord Dorchester, Genl. Prescott, Sir Robert Shore Milnes, Sir James Craig, the Duke of Richmond, and other English Governors, the cherished friends of the Rylands than with the powdered head of his most sacred Majesty, the Great Louis, or the ruffled bust and sensual countenance of the voluptuous Louis XV.... But let us see more of Mount Lilac and its present belongings.

Facing the glittering cupolas of Quebec, there is a fertile area of meadow and cornfield stretching from Dorchester bridge to the deep ravine and Falls over which the Montmorency, La Vache, hangs its milk-white curtain of spray. On the river shore, in 1759, stood Montcalm's earth and field works of defence. Parallel to them and distant about half a mile, the highway, over which H.R.H. Prince Edward's equipage pranced daily, during the summers of 1791-3, now a macadamized road, ascends by a gentle rise, through a double row of whitewashed cottages, about seven miles, to the brow of the roaring cataract spanned over by a substantial bridge, half way, looms out the Roman Catholic temple of worship—a stately edifice, filled to overflowing on Sundays, the parochial charge in 1841 of the Rev. Charles Chiniquy, under whose auspices was built the Temperance Monument on the main road, a little past the Beauport Asylum. This constitutes the parish of Beauport, one of the first settled in the Province. It was conceded by the Company of New France, on the 31st December, 1635, to a French surgeon of some note, "le sieur Robert Giffard." Surgeon Giffard had not only skill as a chirurgeon to recommend him, he could plead services, nay captivity undergone in the colonial cause. An important man in his day was this feudal magnate Giffard, to whom fealty and homage were rendered with becoming pomp, by his consitaires, the Bellangers—Guions—Langlois—Parents—Marcoux, of 1635, whose descendents, still bearing the old Perche or Norman name, occupy to this day the white cottages to be seen on all sides.

On the highest site of this limestone ridge, a clever, influential, refined, and wealthy Briton, the Hon. Henry Wistius Ryland, for years Civil Secretary, Clerk of the Executive Council, a member of the Legislative Council, with other appointments, purchased from Col. Johnston, a lot, then a wilderness, for a country seat in 1805. Mr. Ryland had come out to Canada with Lord Dorchester in 1795, as his secretary, at the instance, we believe, of Lord Liverpool, his protector, at the age of 21 he was acting as Paymaster of two army corps, during the War of Independence in America.

For more than thirty years, Mr. Ryland enjoyed the favour, nay the intimacy of every ruler (except Sir George Prevost) which this then mis- ruled colony owed to Downing Street.

Antipathies of race had been on the increase at Quebec, ever since the parliamentary era of 1791; there was the French party, [300] led by fiery and able politicians, and the English oligarchy occupying nearly all the offices, and avenues to power. French armies under Napoleon I. swayed the destinies of continental Europe, their victories occasionally must have awakened here a responsive echo among their down-trodden fellow-countrymen cowardly deserted by France in 1759, whilst Nelson's victories of the Nile, of Trafalgar, of Copenhagen, and finally the field of Waterloo, had buoyed up to an extravagant pitch the spirits of the English minority of Quebec, which a French parliamentary majority had so often trammelled. It was during the major part of that stormy period that Hon. Herman Wistius Ryland, advised by the able Chief Justice Jonathan Sewell,—was in reality entrusted with the helm of state. He was, as Christie the historian observes, considered the "Fountain head of power." This subtle diplomat (for such will be his title in history), however hostile in his attitude he might have appeared towards the French Canadian nationality, succeeded in retaining to the last the respect of the French Canadian peasantry who surrounded him.

Probably never at any time did he wield more power than under the administration of Sir James H. Craig. His views were so much in unison with those of Sir James, that His Excellency deputed him to England with a public mission threefold in its scope, the ostensible object of which was first "to endeavor to get the Imperial Government to amend or suspend the Constitution; secondly, to render the Government independent of the people, by appropriating towards it the revenues accruing from the estates of the Sulpicians [301] of Montreal, and of the Order of the Jesuits; thirdly to seize the patronage exercised by the Roman Catholic Bishop of Quebec,—the cures or church livings in his diocese; contending that no Roman Catholic Bishop really existed in Canada, (but merely a superintendent of cures), none having been recognized by the Crown.

It has been stated that he had a fair chance of succeeding on two points, had not the great Lord Chancellor, Eldon, intervened to thwart his scheme. The correspondence exchanged between Mr. Ryland and His Excellency, Sir James H. Craig, preserved in the sixth volume of Christie's History of Canada, exhibits Mr. Ryland at his best, and has led some to infer that, had he been cast in a different sphere, where his talents and attainments would have been more properly appreciated and directed, he would have played a very conspicuous part. "We find the Beauport statesman in 1810, in London, [302] consulted on Canadian affairs by the leading English politicians and some of the proudest peers. The honored guest of English noblemen, [303] he appears at no disadvantage, sips their old port unawed, cosily seated at their mahogany. It must be borne in mind that, in 1810, Lord Castlereagh and Lord Liverpool had their hands pretty full with continental politics, perhaps too much so, to heed poor distant Canada.

Shortly after the arrival, at Quebec, of the Earl of Durham, viz., on the 29th July, 1838, the Hon. H. W. Ryland expired at his country seat at Beauport, aged 78 years. He was born in 1760 at Northampton in England, of a very ancient Saxon family, dating back to Edward the Confessor. Wm. Ryland his great grandfather having successfully defended Oxford against Oliver Cromwell, while his sons fought on the other side.

Mount Lilac then reverted to his son, George Herman Ryland, Esq., now Registrar at Montreal, who added much to the charms of the spot. It was offered to Lord Metcalfe subsequently as a country seat, but for reasons which it is unnecessary to enter into, the negotiations fell through. Mr. Ryland occupied it till his removal from the Quebec to the Montreal Registry, Office. Some years back the property was purchased by Mr. James Dinning, Quebec, who reserved for himself the farm, one hundred and five acres in extent, and sold in 1856, the house and twenty-three acres thereunto attached to a wealthy and whimsical old ironfounder of Quebec, Mr. John H. Galbraith. This thrifty tradesman, in order to keep his hand in order, like Thackeray's hero, continued the pursuit of his former occupation, the smelting of ore, even under the perfumed groves of Mount Lilac, and erected there an extensive grapery and conservatory, and a foundry as well; the same furnace blast thus served to produce, under glass, fragrant flowers—exquisite grapes—melting peaches, as well as solid pig iron and first class stove plates.

Mount Lilac owed a divided allegiance to Vulcan and Flora. Which of the home products pleased, the most the worthy Mr. Galbraith? is still an open question. [304]

A VISIT TO THE INDIAN LORETTE.

Of the many attractive sites in the environs of the city, few contain in a greater degree than the Huron village of Lorette during the leafy months of June, July and September, picturesque scenery, combined with a wealth of historical associations. The nine miles intervening between Quebec and the rustic auberge of the village, thanks to an excellent turnpike, can be spanned in little more than an hour. I shall now attempt to recapitulate some of the sights and incidents of travel which recently befell me, whilst escorting to Lorette an Old World tourist, of very high literary estate.

With a mellow autumnal sun, just sufficient to bronze the sombre tints, lingering at the close of the Indian summer, we left the St. Louis Hotel, the headquarters of tourists, and rapidly drove through Fabrique and Palace streets, towards the unsightly gap in our city walls, of yore yclept Palace Gate, which all Lord Dufferin's prestige failed to protect against vandalism, but which, thanks to his initiative, we expect yet to see bridged over with, graceful turrets and Norman towers.

A turn to the west brought us opposite to the scarcely perceptible ruins of the Palace [305] of the French Intendants, destroyed by the English shells in 1775, to dislodge Arnold and Montgomery's New England soldiery.

The park which intervened formerly between it and the St. Charles was many years back converted into a wood yard to store the fuel for the garrison, a portion now is used as a cattle market, opposite, stands the station and freight sheds of the Q. M. O. & O. Railway, the road skirts the park towards the populous St. Roch suburbs, rebuilt and transformed since the great fire of the 28th May, 1845, which destroyed 1,600 houses, occupying the site of former spacious pasture grounds for the city cows, styled by the early French La Vacherie. In a trice we reach Dorchester bridge, the second one, built there in 1822, the first, opened with great pomp by His Excellency Lord Dorchester in 1789, having been constructed a few acres to the west, and called after him. The bridge, as a means of crossing from one shore to the other, is an undoubted improvement on the scow used up to 1789.

One of the first objects on quitting the bridge and diverging westward to the Charlesbourg road, on the river bank, is the stately, solid, antique mansion of the late C. Smith, Esq, who at one time owned nearly all the broad acres intervening between the house and Gros Pin. It took for a time the name of Smithville and was inherited by several members of his family, who built cosy houses round it. These green fields, fringed with white birch and spruce plantations, are watered by the St. Charles, the Kahir-Koubat [306] of ancient days. In rear of one of the first villas Ringfield, owned by Geo. Holmes Parke, Esq., runs the diminutive stream, the Lairet, at the confluence of which Jacques Cartier wintered in 1535- 6, leaving, there one of his ships, the Petite-Hermine, of 60 tons, whose decayed oak timbers were exhumed in 1843, by Jos. Hamel, City Surveyor of Quebec. A very remarkable vestige of French domination exists behind the villa of Mr. Parke—a circular field (hence the name Ring- field) covering about twelve acres, surrounded by a ditch, with an earth work about twenty feet high, to the east, to shield its inmates from the shot of Wolfe's fleet lying at the entrance of the St. Charles, before Quebec. A minute description has been given by General Levi's aide-de- camp, the Chevalier Johnstone, [307] of what was going on in this earthwork, where at noon, on the 13th Sept., 1759, were mustered the disorganized French squadrons in full retreat from the Plains of Abraham toward their camp at Beauport. Here, on that fatal day, was debated the surrender of the colony—the close of French rule: here also, close by, in 1535-6, was the cradle of French power, the first settlement and winter quarters of the French pioneers—Jacques Cartier's hardy little band.

From this spot, at eight o'clock that night (13th Sept.), began the French retreat towards the Charlesbourg church; at 4 a.m. next day the army was at Cap Rouge, disordered, panic-stricken! Oh! where was the heroic Levi!

On ascending a hill (Clearihue's) to the north, the eye gathers in the contour of a dense grove, hiding in its drooping folds "Auvergne," the former secluded country seat of Chief Justice Jonathan Sewell, now owned by George Alford, Esq.

A mile to the north, in the deep recesses of Bourg-Royal, rest the fast crumbling and now insignificant ruins of the only rural Chateau of French origin round Quebec. Was it built by Talon, or by Bigot? an unfathomable mystery. Silence and desertion reign supreme, where of yore Bigot's heartless wassailers used to meet and gamble away King Louis's card money and piastres.

"And sunk are the voices that sounded in mirth. And empty the goblets and dreary the hearth!"

The tower or boudoir, where was immured the Algonquin maid Caroline, the beautiful, that too has crumbled to dust.

We are now at Lorette.

TAHOURENCHE.

"I'm the chieftain of this mountain, Times and seasons found me here, My drink has been the crystal fountain, My fare the wild moose or the deer." (The HURON CHIEF, by Adam Kidd).

There exists a faithful portrait of this noble savage, such as drawn by himself and presented, we believe, to the Laval University at Quebec; for glimpses of his origin, home and surroundings, we are indebted to an honorary chief of the tribe, Ahatsistari. [308]

Paul Tahourenche (Francois Xavier Picard), Great Chief of the Lorette Hurons, was born at Indian Lorette in 1810; he is consequently at present 71 years of age. He is tall, erect, well proportioned, dignified in face and deportment; when habited in his Indian regalia: blue frock coat, with bright buttons and medals, plumed fur cap, leggings of colored cloth, bright sash and armlets, with war axe, he looks the beau ideal of a respectable Huron warrior, shorn of the ferocity of other days. Of the line of Huron chiefs which proceeded him we can furnish but a very meagre history. Adam Kidd, who wrote a poem entitled the Huron Chief in 1829, and who paid that year a visit to the Lorette Indians and saw their oldest chief, Oui-a-ra-lih-to, having unfortunately failed to fulfil the promise he then made of publishing the traditions and legends of the tribe furnished him on that occasion, an omission which, we hope, will yet be supplied by an educated Huron; the Revd. Mr. Vincent. Of Oui-a-ra-lih- to, we learn from Mr. Kidd: "This venerable patriarch, who is now (in 1829) approaching the precincts of a century, is the grandson of Tsa-a- ra-lih-to, head chief of the Hurons during the war of 1759. Oui-a-ra- lih-to, with about thirty-five warriors of the Indian village of Lorette in conjunction with the Iroquois and Algonquins, was actually engaged in the army of Burgoyne, a name unworthy to be associated with the noble spirit of Indian heroism. During my visit to this old chief—May, 1829—he willingly furnished me with an account of the distinguished warriors, and the traditions of different tribes, which are still fresh in his memory, and are handed from father to son, with the precision, interest and admiration that the tales and exploits of Ossian and his heroes are circulated in their original purity to this day among the Irish." Mr. Kidd alludes also to another great chief, Atsistari, who flourished in 1637, and who may have been the same as the Huron Saul Ahatsistari, who lived in 1642.

Of the powerful tribes of the aborigines who, in remote periods, infested the forests, lakes and streams of Canada, none by their prowess in war, wisdom in council, success as tillers of the soil, intelligent and lofty bearing, surpassed the Wyandats, or Hurons. [309] They numbered 15,000 souls, according to the historian Ferland, 40,000 according to Bouchette, and chiefly inhabited the country bordering on Lake Huron and Simcoe; they might, says Sagard, have been styled the "nobles" among savages in contradistinction to that other powerful confederacy, more democratic in their ways, also speaking the Huron language, and known as the Five Nations (Mohawks,[310] Oneydoes, Onondagas, Cayugas and Senecas), styled by the French the Iroquois, or Hiroquois, from the habit of their orators of closing their orations with the word "Hiro"—I have said.

'Tis a curious fact that the aborigines whom Jacques Cartier had found masters of the soil, at Hochelaga (Montreal,) and Stadacona (Quebec,) in 1535, sixty-eight years later on, in 1603, when Champlain visited these Indian towns, had disappeared: a different race had succeeded them. Though it opens a wide field to conjecture, recent investigations seem to indicate that it was the Huron-Iroquois nation who, in 1535, were the enfants du sol at both places, and that in the interim the Algonquins had, after bloody wars, dispersed and expelled the Huron-Iroquois. The savages with whom the early French settlers held intercourse can be comprised under two specific heads—the Algonquins and the Huron-Iroquois —the language of each differing as much, observes the learned Abbe Faillon, as French does from Chinese.

It would take us beyond the limit of this sketch to recapitulate the series of massacres which reduced these warlike savages, the Hurons, from their high estate to that of a dispersed, nomadic tribe, and placed the Iroquois or Mohawks, at one time nearly destroyed by the Hurons, in the ascendant.

Their final overthrow may be said to date back to the great Indian massacres of 1648-9, at their towns, or missions, on the shores of Lakes Simcoe, the first mission being founded in 1615 by the Friar LeCaron, accompanied by twelve soldiers sent by Champlain in advance of his own party. The Jesuit mission was attacked by the Iroquois in 1648; St. Louis, St. Joseph [311], St. Ignace [312], Ste. Marie [313], St. Jean [314], successively fell, or were threatened; all the inmates who escaped sought safety in flight; the protracted sufferings of the missionaries Breboeuf and Gabriel Lallemant have furnished one of the brightest pages of Christian heroism in New France. Breboeuf expired on the 16th March and Lallemant on 17th March, 1649. A party of Hurons sought Manitoulin Island, then called Ekaentoton, a few fled to Virginia; others succeeded in obtaining protection on the south shore of Lake Erie, from the Erie tribe, only to share, later on, the dire fate of the nation who had dared to incorporate them in its sparse ranks.

Father P. Ragueneau (the first writer, by the by, who makes mention of Niagara Falls—Relations de 1648,) escorted three or four hundred of these terror-stricken people to Quebec on the 26th July, 1650, and lodged them in the Island of Orleans, at a spot since called L'Anse du Fort, where they were joined, in 1651, by a party of Hurons, who in 1649, on hearing of the massacre of their western brethren, had asked to winter at Quebec. For ten years past a group of Algonquins, Montagnais and Hurons, amidst incessant alarms, had been located in the picturesque parish of Sillery; they, too, were in quest of a more secure asylum. Negotiations were soon entered into between them and their persecuted friends of the West; a plan was put forth to combine. On the 29th March, 1651, the Sillery Indians, many of whom were Hurons united with the western brethren, sought a shelter, though a very insecure one, in a fortified nook, adjoining their missionary's house, on the land of Eleonore de Grandmaison, purchased for them at l'Anse du Fort, in the Island of Orleans, on the south side of the point opposite Quebec. Here they set to tilling the soil with some success, cultivating chiefly Indian corn, their numbers being occasionally increased during the year 1650, by their fugitive brethren of the West, until they counted above 600 souls. Even under the guns of the picket Fort of Orleans, which had changed its name to Ile St. Marie, in remembrance of their former residency, the tomahawk and scalping-knife reached them; on the 20th May, 1656, eighty-six of their number were carried away captives, and six killed, by the ferocious Iroquois; and on the 4th June, 1656, again they had to fly before their merciless tormentors. The big guns of Fort St. Louis, which then stood at the north-west extremity of the spot on which the Dufferin Terrace has lately been erected, seemed to the Hurons a more effectual protection than the howitzers of Anse du Fort, so they begged from Governor d'Aillebout for leave to nestle under them in 1658. 'Twas granted. When the Marquis de Tracy had arranged a truce with the Iroquois in 1665, the Huron refugees prepared to bid adieu to city life and to city dust. Two years later we find them ensconced at Beauport, where others had squatted on land belonging to the Jesuits; they stopped there one year, and suddenly left, in 1669, to pitch their wigwams for a few years at Cote St. Michel, four and a half miles from Quebec, at the Mission of Notre Dame de Foye, now called St. Foye. On the 29th December, 1673, restless and alarmed, the helpless sons of the forest sought the seclusion, leafy shades and green fields Ancienne Lorette. [315] Here they dwelled nearly twenty-five years. The youths had grown up to manhood, with the terrible memories of the past still fresh on their minds. One fine day, allured by hopes of more abundant game, they packed up their household gods, and finally, in 1697, they went and settled on the elevated plateau, close to the foaming rapids of St. Ambroise, now known as Indian, or Jeune, Lorette.

"Tis here we shall now find them, 336 souls all told, [316] living in comparative ease, successful traders, exemplary Christians, but fast decaying Hurons.

"The Hurons," says Ahatsistari, [317] "are divided into four families: that of the Deer; of the Tortoise; of the Bear; of the Wolf. Thus, the great Chief Francois Xavier Picard—Tahourenche—is a Deer, and his son Paul is a Tortoise, because (Her Highness) Madame Tahourenche is a Tortoise; a lithe, handsome woman for all that.

"Each family has its chief, or war captain; he is elected by choice. The four war captains chose two council chiefs, the six united select a grand chief, either from among themselves or from among the honorary chiefs, if they think proper."

We append a letter, from Sister Ste. Helene, descriptive of Indian customs, in 1730. Civilization and Christianity have sensibly modified, some will say, improved the Red Skins since then.

INDIAN DRESS—LOVE MAKING-FEASTS—BURIALS.

From a MS. Letter of Soeur Ste. Helene, published by Abbe Verrault.

"Would you like to learn how they dress—how they marry—how they are buried? First, you must know that several tribes go completely naked, and wear but the fig-leaf. In Montreal, you meet many stately and well-proportioned savages, walking about in this state of nudity, as proud in their bearing, as if they wore good clothes. Some have on a shirt only; others have a covering negligently thrown over one shoulder. Christianized Indians are differently habited. The Iroquois put their shirt over their wearing apparel, and over the shirt another raiment, which encloses a portion of the head, which is always bare. The men generally wear garments over their shirts; the latter, when new, is generally very white, but is used until it gets perfectly dark and disgustingly greasy. They sometimes shave a portion of their head, or else they comb one half of their hair back, the other half front. They occasionally tie up a tuft of hair very tight on the top of the head, rising towards the skies. At other times some allow a long tress of hair to fall over their face: it interferes with their eating, but it has to be put up with. They smear their ears with a white substance, or their face with blue, vermillion and black. They are more elaborate in their war-toilette than a coquette would be in dressing—in order to conceal the paleness which fear might engender. They are profuse of gold and silver brocade, porcelain necklaces, bracelets of beads—the women, especially in their youth. This is their jewellery, their diamonds, the value whereof sometimes reaches 1,000 francs. The Abenaqis enclose their heads in a small cap embroidered with beads or ornamented with brocade. They wrap their legs in leggings with a fringe three or four inches long. Their shoes consist of socks, with plaits round the toe, covering the foot. All this has its charm in their eyes; they are as vain of dress as any Frenchman. The pagan tribes, whenever love is felt, marry without any ceremonial. The pair will discover whether they love one another in silence, Indian-like. One of the caresses consists in throwing to the loved one a small pebble, or grains of Indian corn, or else some other object which cannot hurt. The swain, on throwing the pebble, is bound to look in the opposite direction, to make believe he did not do it. Should the adored one return it, matters look well, else, the game is up.

"The Christianized Indians are married in face of the church, without any contract of marriage and without stipulations, because an Indian cannot own real estate and cannot bequeath to his children. The wealthiest is the mightiest hunter. This favored individual, in his village, passes for a grand match. Bravery and great warriors they think much of—they constitute the latter their chiefs. Poverty is no disgrace at the council board, and an orator in rags will speak out as boldly, as successfully, as if he were decked out in gold cloth. They come thus poorly habited in the presence of the Governor, indulge in long harangues, and touch his hand fearlessly. When ladies are present at these interviews, they honor them thus—seize their hand and shake it in token of friendship. Before I became a nun I was present at some of these ceremonies, and having won their good opinion, they would extend to me a hand which was disgusting in the extreme, but which I had cheerfully to accept for fear of offending them. They are sometimes asked to dine at the Governor's table. Unlucky are their neighbors, especially when they happen to be ladies, they are so filthy in their persons.—1730."—Revue Canadienne, page 108-9.

Such the Montreal Indians in 1730.

The Lorette Chapel dates back, as well as the Old Mill, to 1731. In 1862 the Chapel suffered much by fire. The tribe occupies land reserved by Government, under the regulations of the Indian Bureau of Ottawa. "Indian Lorette comprises from forty to fifty cottages, on the plateau of the falls—spread out, without design, over an area of about twenty square acres. In the centre runs the kings highway, the outer half sloping down, towards the St. Charles. The most prominent objects are the church, a grist mill and Mr. Reid's paper mill; close by a wooden fence encloses 'God's acre,' in the centre of which a cross marks the tomb of Chief Nicholas." [318] It is indeed, "a wild spot, covered with the primitive forest and seamed by a deep and tortuous ravine, where the St. Charles foams, white as a snow drift, over the black ledges, and where the sunshine struggles through matted boughs of the pine and the fir, to bask for brief moments on the mossy rocks, or flash on the hurrying waters.... Here, to this day, the tourist finds the remnants of a lost people, harmless weavers of baskets and sewers of mocassins, the Huron blood fast bleaching out of them."

Of "free and independent electors" none here exist, the little Lorette world goes on smoothly without them. "No Huron on the Reserve can vote. No white man is allowed to settle within the sacred precincts of the Huron kingdom, composed, 1st, of the lofty Plateau of the village of Indian Lorette, which the tribe occupy. 2nd. Of the forty square acres, about a mile and a half to the north-west of the village. 3rd. Of the Rocmont settlement, in the adjoining County of Portneuf, in the very heart of the Laurentine Mountains, ceded to the Hurons by Government, as a compensation for the Seigniory of St. Gabriel, of which Government took possession, and to which the Hurons set up a claim.

"In all that which pertains to the occupation, the possession and the administration of these fragments of its ancient extensive territory, the usages and customs of the tribe have force of law. The village is governed by a Council of Sachems; in cases of misunderstandings an appeal lies to the Ottawa Bureau, under the control of the Minister of the Interior (our "Downing street" wisely abstaining from interference except on very urgent occasions). Lands descend by right of inheritance; the Huron Council alone being authorized to issue location tickets; none are granted but to Huron boys, strangers being excluded. Of course, these disabilities affect the denizens of the reserve only; a Huron (and there are some, Tahourenche, Vincent and others) owning lands in his own right elsewhere, and paying taxes and tithes, enjoys the rights and immunities of any other British subject."

From the date of the Lorette Indian settlement in 1697, down to the year of the capitulation of Quebec—1759—the annals of the tribe afford but few stirring incidents: an annual bear, beaver, or cariboo hunt; the return of a war party, with its scalps—English, probably—as the tribe had a wholesome terror of the Iroquois; an occasional pow wow as to how many warriors could be spared to assist their trusted and brave allies, the French of Quebec, against the heretical soldiers of Old or New England.

We are in possession of no facts to show that these Christianised Hurons differed much from other Christianised Indians; church services, war councils, feasting, smoking, dancing, scalping, fishing and hunting, filling in, agreeably, socially, or usefully, the daily routine of their existence. Civilization, as understood by christianised or by pagan savages, has never inspired us with unqualified admiration. The various siege narratives we have perused, whilst they bring in the Indian allies, at the close of the battle, to "finish off" the wounded at Montmorency, in July, 1759; at the plains of Abraham, in September 1759; at St. Foye, in April, 1760, generally mention the Abenaquis for this delicate office of friseurs. The terror, nay, the horror, which the use of the tomahawk and scalping knife inspired to the British soldiery, was often greater than their fear of the French sabres and French musquetoons.

British rule, in 1759, if it did bring the Hurons less of campaigning and fewer scalps, was the harbinger of domestic peace and stable homes, with very remunerative contracts each fall for several thousands of pairs of snow-shoes, cariboo mocassins and mittens for the English regiments tenanting the Citadel of Quebec, whose wealthy officers every winter scoured the Laurentine range, north of the city, in quest of deer, bear and cariboo, under the experienced guidance of Gros Louis, Sioui, Vincent, and other famous Huron Nimrods.

The chronicles of the settlement proclaim the valour and wisdom of some of their early chiefs, conspicuous appears the renowned Ahatsistari, surnamed the Huron Saul, from his early hostility to missionaries; death closed his career, on the verdant banks of Lake Huron, in 1642, a convert to missionary teachings.

At the departure of the French, in 1759, a new allegiance was forced on the sons of the forest, St. George and his dragon for them took the place of St. Louis and his lilies. The Deer, the Bear, the Tortoise and the Wolf tribe, however, have managed to live on most friendly terms with the Dragon. In 1776, Lorette sent its contingent of painted and plumed warriors to fight General Burgoyne's inglorious campaigns. The services rendered to England by her swarthy allies in the war of 1812-14 were marked, for years a distribution of presents took place from the Quebec Commissariat and Indian Department. Proudly did the Hurons, as well as the Abenaquis, Montagnais, Micmac and Malicite Indians bear the snow- white blankets, scarlet cloth and hunting-knives awarded them by George the King, and by the victors of Waterloo. Each year, at midsummer, the Indians in their canoes, with their live freight of hunters, their copper- coloured squaws and black-eyed papooses, rushed from Labrador, Gaspe, Restigouche, Baie des Chaleurs, and pitched their tents on a strip of land at Levi, hence called Indian Cove, the city itself being closed to the grim monarchs of the woods, reputed ugly customers when in their cups. A special envoy, however, was sent to the Lorette Indians on similar occasions. The Indians settled on Canadian soil were distinguished for their loyalty to England, who has ever treated them more mercifully than did "Uncle Sam."

The war between England and the United States in 1812 brought the Lorette braves again to the front, and the future hero of Chateauguay, Col. De Salaberry, was sent to enlist them. Col. De Salaberry attended in person on the tribe, at Indian Lorette. A grand pow-wow had been convoked. The sons of the forest eagerly sent in their names and got in readiness when the Colonel returned a few days later to inform them that the Government had decided to retain them as a reserve in the event of Quebec being attacked from the Kennebec.

Notwithstanding this announcement, six Hurons (among whom were Joseph and Stanislas Vincent) claimed with loud cries the right to accompany the Canadian Voltigeurs, commanded by the Colonel.

At Chateauguay, where 300 Canadians so gloriously repelled 7,000 invaders, the brothers Vincent swam across the river to capture and make prisoners, the flying Yankees.

These swarthy warriors had but a faint idea of what military discipline meant, and thinking that, the battle being over, they could return to Lorette, left accordingly. This was a flagrant case of desertion. Nothing short of the brave Colonel's earnest entreaties, sufficed to procure a pardon for the redskins. A letter was written to Col. De Salaberry by his father, late M.P. for the county, on this subject; it has been preserved.

The Hurons attended at Beauport at the unveiling of the monument of De Salaberry on the 27th of June, 1880, and subscribed bountifully to the building fund.

What with war medals, clothing, ammunition, fertile lands specially reserved at Lorette, on the Restigouche, at Nouvelle, Isle Verte, Caughnawaga, St. Regis, &c., the "untutored savage," shielded by a beneficent legislation, watched over by zealous missionaries, was at times an object of envy to his white brethren. Age or infirmity, seldom war, tore him away from this vale of sorrow, to join the great Indian "majority" in those happy hunting grounds promised to him by his Sachems.

The Hurons were ever ready to parade their paint, feathers, and tomahawks, at the arrival of every new Governor at Quebec, and to assure Ononthio, [319] of their undying attachment and unswerving loyalty to their great father or august mother "who dwells on the other side of the Great Lake." These traditions have descended even to the time when Ononthio was merely a Lieutenant-Governor under Confederation. We recollect meeting, in 31st March, 1873, a stately deputation, composed of twenty-three Hurons from Lorette, returning from Clermont, the country seat of Lieutenant- Governor Caron, where they had danced the war-dance for the ladies, and harangued, as follows, the respected Laird of Clermont, just then appointed Lieutenant-Governor:—

ONONTHIO:—

Aisten tiothi non8a [320] tisohon dekha hiatanonstati deson8a8en-dio daskemion tesontamai denon8a ation datito8anens tesanonron-h8a nionde, aon8a deson8a8endio de8a desakatade; a8eti desanon-ronk8anion datito8anens chia ta skenrale the kiolaoutou8ison tothi chia hiaha a8eti dechienha totinahiontati desten de sendete ataki atichiai a8eti alatonthara deskemion ichionthe desten tiodeti aisten orachichiai.

Rev. Prosper Sa8atonen. The Memory Man. (Rev. Mr. Vincent, a chief's son, then Vicaire at Sillery.) Paul Tahourenche, 1st Chief. The Dawn of Day. Maurice Agnolin, 2nd Chief. The Bear. Francis Sassennio. The Victor of Fire. Gaspard Ondiaralethe. The Canoe Bearer. Philippe Theon8atlasta. He stands upright. Joseph Gonzague Odt'o rohann. He who does not forget. Paul Jr. Theianontakhen. Two United Mountains. Honore Telanontouohe. The Sentry. A. N. Montpetit Ahatsistari. The Fearless Man.—And others, in all 23 warriors.

[Translation.]

"The chiefs, the warriors, the women and children of our tribe, greet you. The man of the woods also likes to render homage to merit: he loves to see in his chiefs those precious qualities which constitute the statesman.

"All these gifts of the Great Spirit, wisdom in council, prudence in execution, and that sagacity we exact in the Captains of our nation, you possess them all in an eminent degree.

"We warmly applaud your appointment to the exalted post of Lieutenant- Governor of the Province of Quebec, and feel happy in taking advantage of the occasion to present our congratulations.

"May we also be allowed to renew the assurance of our devotion towards our august Mother, who dwells on the other side of the Great Lake, as well as to the land of our forefathers.

"Accept for you, for Mrs. Caron and your family, our best wishes."

CHATEAU BIGOT.

ITS HISTORY AND ROMANCE.

"Ensconced 'mid trees this chateau stood— 'Mid flowers each aisle and porch; At eve soft music charmed the ear— High blazed the festive torch.

But, ah! a sad and mournful tale Was hers who so enjoyed The transient bliss of these fair shades— By youth and love decoyed,

Her lord was true—yet he was false, False—false—as sin and hell— To former plights and vows he gave To one that loved him well." The Hermitage.

From time immemorial an antique and crumbling ruin, standing in solitary loneliness, in the centre of a clearing at the foot of the Charlesbourg mountain, some five miles from Quebec, has been visited by the young and the curious. It was once a two story stone building, with ponderous walls. In length it is fifty-five feet by thirty-five feet broad—pierced for six windows in each story, with a well-proportioned door, in the centre. In 1843, at the date of my first visit, the floor of the second story was yet tolerably strong: I ascended to it by a rickety, old staircase. The ruin was sketched in 1858, by Col. Benj. Lossing, and reproduced in Harper's Magazine for January, 1859. The lofty mountain to the north-west of it is called La Montagne des Ormes; for more than a century, the Charlesbourg peasantry designate the ruin as La Maison de la Montagne. The English have christened it the Hermitage, whilst to the French portion of the population, it is known as Chateau-Bigot, or Beaumanoir; and truly, were it not on account of the associations which surround the time-worn pile, few would take the trouble to go and look at the dreary object.

The land on which it stands was formerly included in the Fief de la Trinite granted between 1640 and 1650 to Monsieur Denis, a gentleman from La Rochelle, in France, the ancestor of the numerous clans of Denis, Denis de la Ronde, Denis de Vitre, &c. The seigniory was subsequently sold to Monseigneur de Laval, a descendant of the Montmorency's, who founded in 1663 the Seminary of Quebec, and one of the most illustrious prelates in New France, the portion towards the Mountain was dismembered. When the Intendant Talon formed his Baronie Des Islets [321] he annexed to it certain lands of the Fief de la Trinite, amongst others that part on which now stands the remains of the old chateau, of which he seems to have been the builder, but which he subsequently sold. Bigot having acquired it long after, enlarged and improved it very much. He was a luxurious French gentleman, who, more than one hundred years ago, held the exalted post of Intendant or Administrator under the French Crown, in Canada. [322] In those days the forests which skirted the city were abundantly stocked with game: deer, of several varieties, bears, foxes, perhaps even that noble and lordly animal, now extinct in eastern Canada, the Canadian stag, or Wapiti, roamed in herds over the Laurentian chain of mountains, and were shot within a few miles of the Chateau St. Louis. This may have been one of the chief reasons why the French Lucullus erected the little chateau, which to this day bears his name—a resting place for himself and friends after the chase. The profound seclusion of the spot, combined with its beautiful scenery, would have rendered it attractive during the summer months, even without the sweet repose it had in store for a tired hunter. Tradition ascribes to it other purposes, and amusements less permissible than those of the chase. A tragical occurrence enshrines the old building with a tinge of mystery which the pen of the novelist has woven into a thrilling romance.

Francois Bigot, thirteenth and last Intendant of the Kings of France in Canada, was born in the Province of Guienne, and descended of a family distinguished by professional eminence at the French bar. His commission bears date "10th June, 1747." The Intendant had the charge of four departments: Justice, Police, Finance and Marine. He had previously filled the post of Intendant in Louisiana, and also at Louisburg. The disaffection and revolt caused by his rapacity in that city, were mainly instrumental in producing its downfall and surrender to the English commander, Pepperell, in 1745. Living at a time when tainted morals and official corruption ruled at court, he seems to have taken his standard of morality from the mother country; his malversations in office, his extensive frauds on the treasury, more than L400,000; his colossal speculations in provisions and commissariat supplies furnished by the French government to the colonists during a famine; his dissolute conduct and final downfall, are fruitful themes wherefrom the historian can draw wholesome lessons for all generations. Whether his Charlesbourg (then called Bourg Royal) castle was used as the receptacle of some of his most valuable booty, or whether it was merely a kind of Lilliputian Parc au Cerfs, such as his royal master had, tradition does not say. It would appear, however, that it was kept up by the plunder wrung from sorrowing colonists, and that the large profits he made by paring from the scanty pittance the French government allowed the starving residents, were here lavished in gambling, riot and luxury.

In May, 1757, the population of Quebec was reduced to subsist on four ounces of bread per diem, one lb. of beef, HORSE-FLESH or CODFISH; and in April of the following year, the miserable allowance was reduced to one half. "At this time," remarks our historian, Garneau, "famished men were seen sinking to the earth in the street from exhaustion."

Such were the times during which Louis XV.'s minion would retire to his Sardanapalian retreat, to gorge himself at leisure on the life blood of the Canadian people, whose welfare he had sworn to watch over! Such, the doings in the colony in the days of La Pompadour. The results of this misrule were soon apparent: the British lion placed his paw on the coveted morsel. The loss of Canada was viewed, if not by the nation, at least by the French Court, with indifference, to use the terms of one of Her Britannic Majesty's ministers, when its fate and possible loss were canvassed one century later in the British Parliament, "without apprehension or regret." Voltaire gave his friends a banquet at Ferney, in commemoration of the event; the court favourite congratulated His Majesty, that since he had got rid of these "fifteen hundred leagues of frozen country," he had now a chance of sleeping in peace; the minister Choiseul urged Louis XV. to sign the final treaty of 1763, saying that Canada would be un embarras to the English, and that if they were wise they would have nothing to do with it. In the meantime the red cross of St. George was waving over the battlements on which the lily-spangled banner of the Bourbons had proudly sat with but one interruption for one hundred and fifty years, the infamous Bigot was provisionally consigned to a dungeon in the Bastille—subsequently tried and exiled to Bordeaux; his property was confiscated, whilst his confederates and abettors, such as Varin, Breard, Maurin, Corpron, Martel, Estebe and others, were also tried and punished by fine, imprisonment and confiscation: one Penisseault, a government clerk (a butcher's son by birth), who had married in the colony, but whose pretty wife accompanied the Chevalier de Levis on his return to France, seems to have fared better than the rest.

But to revert to the chateau walls as I saw them on the 4th of June, 1863.

During a ramble with an English friend through the woods, which gave us an opportunity of providing ourselves with wild flowers to strew over the tomb of its fair "Rosamond," [323] such as the marsh marigold, clintonia, uvularia, the star flower, veronica, kalmia, trillium, and Canadian violets, we unexpectedly struck on the old ruin. One of the first things that attracted our notice was the singularly corroding effect the easterly wind has on stone and mortar in Canada; the east gable being indented and much more eaten away than that exposed to the western blast. Of the original structure nothing is left now standing but the two gables and the division walls; they are all three of great thickness; certainly no modern house is built in the manner this seems to have been. It had two stories, with rooms in the attic, and deep cellars; a communication existed from one cellar to the other through the division wall. There is also visible a very small door cut through the cellar wall of the west gable; it leads to a vaulted apartment of some eight feet square; the small mound of masonry which covered it might originally have been effectually hidden from view by a plantation of trees over it. What could this have been built for, asked my romantic friend? Was it intended to secure some of the Intendant's plate or other portion of his ill-gotten treasure? Or else as the Abbe Ferland suggests: [324] "Was it to store the fruity old Port and sparkling Moselle of the club of the Barons, who held their jovial meetings there about the beginning of this century?" Was it his mistresses' secret boudoir when the Intendant's lady visited the chateau, like the Woodstock tower to which Royal Henry picked his way through "Love's Ladder?" Quien sabe? Who can unravel the mystery? It may have served for the foundation of the tower which existed when Mr. Papineau visited and described the place fifty years ago. The heavy cedar rafters, more than one hundred years old, are to this day sound: one has been broken by the fall, probably of some heavy stones. There are several indentures in the walls for fire-places, which are built of cut masonry; from the angle of one a song sparrow flew out uttering an anxious note. We searched and discovered the bird's nest, with five spotted, dusky eggs in it. How strange! in the midst of ruin and decay, the sweet tokens of hope, love and harmony! What cared the child of song if her innocent offspring were reared amidst these mouldering relics of the past, mayhap a guilty past? Could she not teach them to warble sweetly, even from the roof which echoed the dying sighs of the Algonquin maid? Red alder trees grew rank and vigorous amongst the disjointed masonry, which had crumbled from the walls into the cellar; no trace existed of the wooden staircase mentioned by Mr. Papineau; the timber of the roof had rotted away or been used for camp fires by those who frequent and fish the elfish stream which winds its way over a pebbly ledge towards Beauport. It is well stocked with small trout, which seem to breed in great numbers in the dam near the Chateau—a stream, did we say?

"A hidden brook, In the leafy mouth of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune"

"Enough! enough! cried my poetic companion. The fate of the fair maid, the song of birds, the rustling of groves, the murmur of yonder brook,—does not all this remind you of the accents of our laurel-crowned poet, he who sang of Claribel?"

Those who wish to visit the Hermitage, are strongly advised to take the cart-road which leads easterly from the Charlesbourg church, turning up. Pedestrians prefer the route through the fields; they may, in this case, leave their vehicle at Gaspard Huot's boarding-house—a little higher than the church at Charlesbourg,—and then walk through the fields, skirting, during the greater part of the road, the trout stream I have previously mentioned; but by all means let them take a guide with them.

Let us now translate and condense, from the interesting narrative of a visit paid to the Hermitage in 1831, by Mr. Amedee Papineau and his talented father, the Hon. Louis Joseph Papineau, the legend which attaches to it:

CAROLINE, OR THE ALGONQUIN MAID.

(BY AMEDEE PAPINEAU.)

"We drove, my father and I, with our vehicle to the foot of the mountain, and there, took a foot-path which led us through a dense wood. We encountered and crossed a rivulet, and then ascended a plateau cleared of wood, a most enchanting place; behind us and on our right was a thick forest: on our left the eye rested on boundless green fields, diversified [325] with golden harvests and with the neat white cottages of the peasantry. In the distance was visible the broad and placid waters of the St. Lawrence, at the foot of the citadel of Quebec, and also the shining cupolas and tin roofs of the city houses; in front of us, a confused mass of ruins, crenelated walls embedded in moss and rank grass, together with a tower half destroyed, beams, and the mouldering remains of a roof. After viewing the tout ensemble, we attentively examined each portion in detail—every fragment was interesting to us; we with difficulty made our way over the wall, ascending the upper stories by a staircase which creaked and trembled under our weight. With the assistance of a lighted candle we penetrated into the damp and cavernous cellars, carefully exploring every nook and corner, listening to the sound of our own footsteps, and occasionally startled by the rustling of bats which we disturbed in their dismal retreat. I was young, and consequently very impressionable. I had just left college; these extraordinary sounds and objects would at times make me feel very uneasy. I pressed close to my father and dared scarcely breathe; the remembrance of this subterranean exploration will not easily be forgotten. What were my sensations when I saw a tombstone, the reader can imagine? 'Here we are at last,' exclaimed my father and echo repeated his words. Carefully did we view this monument; presently we detected the letter 'C,' nearly obliterated by the action of time; after remaining there a few moments, to my unspeakable delight we made our exit from the chamber of death, and stepping over the ruins, we again alighted on the green sward. Evidently where we stood had formerly been a garden; we could still make out the avenues, the walks and plots, over which plum, lilac and apple trees grew wild.

"I had not yet uttered a word, but my curiosity getting the better of my fear, I demanded an explanation of this mysterious tombstone. My father beckoned me towards a shady old maple; we both sat on the turf, and he then told me as follows:—You have, no doubt, my son, heard of a French Intendant, of the name of Bigot, who had charge of the public funds in Canada somewhere about the year 1757; you have also read how he squandered these moneys and how his Christian Majesty had him sent to the Bastille when he returned to France, and had his property confiscated. All this you know. I shall now tell you what, probably, you do not know. This Intendant attempted to lead in Canada the same dissolute life which the old noblesse led in France before the Revolution had levelled all classes. He it was who built this country seat, of which you now contemplate the ruins. Here he came to seek relaxation from the cares of office; here he prepared entertainments to which the rank and fashion of Quebec, including the Governor General, eagerly flocked; nothing was wanting to complete the eclat of this little Versailles. Hunting was a favorite pastime of our ancestors, and Bigot was a mighty hunter. As active as a chamois, as daring as a lion was this indefatigable Nimrod, in the pursuit of bears and moose.

"On one occasion, when tracking with some sporting friends an old bear whom he had wounded, he was led over mountainous ridges and ravines very far from the castle. Nothing could restrain him; on he went in advance of every one, until the bloody trail brought him on the wounded animal, which he soon dispatched.

"During the chase the sun had gradually sunk over the western hills; the shades of evening were fast descending; how was the lord of the manor to find his way back? he was alone in a thick forest; in this emergency his heart did not fail him,—he hoped by the light of the moon to be able to return to his stray companions. Wearily he walked on, ascending once or twice a lofty tree, in order to see further, but all in vain; soon the unpleasant conviction dawned on him that like others in similar cases, he had been walking round a circle. Worn out and exhausted with fatigue and hunger, he sat down to ponder on what course he should adopt. The Queen of night, at that moment shedding her silvery rays around, only helped to show the hunter how hopeless was his present position. Amidst these mournful reflections, his ear was startled by the sound of footsteps close by; his spirits rose at the prospect of help being at hand; soon he perceived the outlines of a moving white object. Was it a phantom which his disordered imagination had conjured up; terrified he seized his trusty gun and was in the act of firing, when the apparition, rapidly advancing toward him, assumed quite a human form; a little figure stood before him with eyes as black as night, and raven tresses flowing to the night wind; a spotless garment enveloped in its ample folds this airy and graceful spectre. Was it a sylph, the spirit of the wilderness? Was it Diana, the goddess of the chase, favoring one of her most ardent votaries with a glimpse of her form divine? It was neither. It was an Algonquin beauty, one of those ideal types whose white skin betray their hybrid origin—a mixture of European blood with that of the aboriginal races. It was Caroline, a child of love, born on the shores of the great Ottawa river; a French officer was her sire, and the powerful Algonquin tribe of the Beaver claimed her mother.

"The Canadian Nimrod, struck at the sight of such extraordinary beauty, asked her name, and after relating his adventure, he begged of her to shew him the way to the castle in the neighborhood, as she must be familiar with every path in the forest. Such is the story told of the first meeting between the Indian beauty and the Canadian Minister of Finance and Feudal Judge in the year 175—.

"The Intendant was a married man; [326] his lady resided in the capital of Canada. She seldom accompanied her husband on his hunting excursions, but soon it was whispered that something more than the pursuit of wild animals attracted him to his country seat; an intrigue with an Indian beauty was hinted at. These discreditable rumors came to the ears of her ladyship; she made several visits to the castle in hopes of verifying her worst fears; jealousy is a watchful sentinel.

"The Intendant's dormitory was on the ground floor of the building; it is supposed the Indian girl occupied a secret apartment on the flat above; that her boudoir was reached through a long narrow passage, ending with a hidden staircase opening on the large room which overlooked the garden.

"The King, therefore, for his defence Against the furious Queen, At Woodstock builded such a bower, As never yet was seen. Most curiously that bower was built, Of stone and timber strong." (Ballad of Fair Rosamond.)

"Let us now see what took place on this identical spot on the 2nd July, 176—. It is night; the hall clock has just struck eleven; the murmur of the neighboring brook, gently wafted on the night wind, is scarcely audible; the Song Sparrow [327] has nearly finished his evening hymn, while the Sweet Canada [328] bird, from the top of an old pine, merrily peals forth his shrill clarion. Silence the most profound pervades the whole castle; every light is extinguished; the pale rays of the moon slumber softly on the oak floor, reflected as they are through the gothic windows; every inmate is wrapped in sleep, even fair Rosamond who has just retired. Suddenly her door is violently thrust open; a masked person, with one bound rushes to her bed-side, and without saying a word, plunges a dagger to the hilt in her breast. Uttering a piercing shriek, the victim springs in the air and falls heavily on the floor. The Intendant, hearing the noise, hurries up stairs, raises the unhappy girl who has just time to point to the fatal weapon, still in the wound, and then falls back in his arms a lifeless corpse. The whole household are soon on foot; search is made for the murderer, but no clue is discovered. Some of the inmates fancied they had seen the figure of a woman rush down the secret stair and disappear in the woods about the time the murder took place. A variety of stories were circulated, some pretended to trace the crime to the Intendant's wife, whilst others alleged that the avenging mother of the creole was the assassin; some again urged that Caroline's father had attempted to wipe off the stain on the honour of his tribe, by himself despatching his erring child. A profound mystery to this day surrounds the whole transaction. Caroline was buried in the cellar of the castle, and the letter 'C' engraved on her tombstone, which, my son, you have just seen."

Half a century has now elapsed since the period mentioned in this narrative. In vain do we search for several of the leading characteristics on which Mr. Papineau descants so eloquently; time, the great destroyer, has obliterated many traces. Nothing meets one's view but mouldering walls, over which green moss and rank weeds cluster profusely. Unmistakable indications of a former garden there certainly are, such as the outlines of walks over which French cherry, apple and gooseberry trees grow in wild luxuriance. I took home from the ruins a piece of bone; this decayed piece of mortality may have formed part of Caroline's big toe, for aught I can establish to the contrary; Chateau-Bigot brought back to my mind other remembrances of the past. I recollected reading that pending the panic consequent on the surrender of Quebec in 1759, the non- combatants of the city crowded within its walls; this time not to realized, but to seek concealment until Mars had inscribed another victory on the British flag. Who would be prepared to swear that later, when Arnold and Montgomery had possession of the environs of Quebec, during the greater portion of the winter, of 1775-6, some of those prudent English merchants, (Adam Lymburner at their head), who awaited at Charlesbourg and Beauport the issue of the contest, did not take a quiet drive, to Chateau- Bigot, were it only to indulge in a philosophical disquisition on the mutability of human events?

We are indebted to Mr. John D. Stewart of Quebec for a copy of the following letter from his grandfather, written in 1776, from the Chateau.

(Mr. Charles Stewart, father of the late Mr. Charles Grey Stewart, Comptroller of Customs, to his father.)

"HERMITAGE, June 25th, 1776.

"MY DEAR FATHER,—I was overjoyed to hear by a letter from Mr. Gray, that you and my dear mother were in good health. Nothing can give me greater pleasure than to hear so. I was very sorry to hear that my sister had been ill. I hope she is now getting better.

We have been here for this winter in a very dismal situation. The rebels came here and blocked up the town of Quebec, at the end of November. I had been not at all well for two months previous, and at that time had not got better with a pain which obliged me to stay in the country, where I had been all the summer, although greatly against my inclination. I was allowed to remain peaceably by the rebels, until the middle of January, when I was taken and carried with sword and (fixed) bayonets before their general; the reason why, was, that after their attack upon the town on the 31st December, the Yankees were obliged to demand assistance of the country people to join them. I had spoken and done what I could to hinder the people of the village where I resided from going and taking arms with them. This came to light, and I was told at their head-quarters their general, one Arnold, a horse jockey or shipmaster, who then had the command, threatened to send me over to the (New England) colonies. After being detained a ... and two days, Arnold asked me, if he had not seen me before in Quebec. I said he had, and put him in remembrance of having once dined with him; upon which he said, on condition that I gave my word of honour not to meddle in the matter, he would allow me to go away. I told him the inhabitants were a parcel of scoundrels, and beyond a gentleman's notice; upon this I got off, and remained for upwards of two months without molestation, till the tracks of persons going to town from Beauport had been observed; the country people immediately suspected me, and came with drawn cutlasses to take me; luckily I was from home, having gone two days before about fifteen miles to see an acquaintance, and when I got back they had found out who had gone in (to town). The ill-nature of the peasants to me made me very uneasy on account of all the papers I had of Mr. Gray's, and dreading their malice much, I determined to go from them. I found out a place about five miles up amongst the woods, the Hermitage which being vacant I immediately retired to it, and carried all my papers with me. Mr. Peter Stewart had gone from his house in Beauport, down with his family to the Posts, and gave me the charge of it, and having heard that they (the Yankees) were going to put 150 men in it, I sent all his furniture, &c., to the house I had taken, so that I had my house all furnished; this was in the beginning of March; since which I have remained there. The people who left the town in the fall have not been allowed to go back. A Mr. Vi... one of the most considerable merchants, went in immediately after the 6th of May, (the day when the town people made a sally with about 900 men in all, who drove nigh 3000 of the Yankees from their camp, and relieved the town) and was sent to prison and kept several days. Major John Nairn was so obliging as to come out 8 or 9 days after that affair to see me; he asked me why I had not been in town. I told him the reason; I had got no pass. The next day he sent me one; except another, this is the only one which had been granted by the Governor as yet, and it is thought some won't be allowed to go in this summer, why, I cannot say. Every person had liberty to leave or stay by a proclamation for that purpose, but as it is military law, no person dare say it is wrong

I am going now again to remain in town, having now learned a little of the French. I understand every word almost that is said, although I cannot speak it as well; however I could wish that my brother John knew as much of it. I three days ago wrote him they were gone to Halifax, but am told they are to go from there to New York soon....

I am at present studying a little of the French law. If I do not make use it, it will do me no harm. I expect you have had letters from my brother Andrew....

I wish you would send me your vouchers of all your Jamaica debts I could go easily from here to there. If I cannot get money I can get rum, which sells and will sell, at a great price in this place. I can only stay there a few months."

Nor must we forget the jolly pic-nics the barons held there some eighty years ago. [329]

On quitting these silent halls, from which the light of other days had departed, and from whence the voice of revelry seems to have fled forever, I re-crossed the little brook, already mentioned, musing on the past. The solitude which surrounds the dwelling and the tomb of the dark-haired child of the wilderness, involuntarily brought to mind that beautiful passage of Ossian, [330] relating to the daughter of Reuthamir, the "white-bosomed" Moina:—"I have seen the walls of Balclutha, but they were desolate. The fire had resounded in the halls, and the voice of the people is heard no more. The thistle shook there its lonely head; the moss whistled to the wind. The fox looked out of the windows, the rank grass of the wall waved round its head. Desolate is the dwelling of Moina, silence is in the house.... Raise the, song of mourning, O bards! over the land of strangers. They have but fallen before us: for one day, we must fall."

L'INTENDANT BIGOT—ROMANCE CANADIENNE. PAR JOS. MARMETTE.

After perusing the Legend of Caroline, the Algonquin Maid, the lover of Canadian story, can find a more artistically woven plot in one of Mr. Marmette's historical novels L'Intendant Bigot. The following passage is from a short critique we recently published thereon:

"It is within the portals of Beaumanoir (Chateau-Bigot) that several of the most thrilling scenes in Mr. Marmette's novel are supposed to have taken place. A worthy veteran of noble birth, M. de Rochebrune, had died in Quebec through neglect and hunger, on the very steps of Bigot's luxurious palace, then facing the St Charles, leaving an only daughter, as virtuous as she was beautiful. One day, whilst returning through the fields (where St. Rochs has since been built) from visiting a nun in the General Hospital, she was unexpectedly seized by a strong arm and thrown on a swift horse, whose rider never stopped until he had deposited his victim at Bigot's country seat, Charlesbourg. The name of this cold-blooded villain was Soumois. He was a minion of the mighty and unscrupulous Bigot. Mdlle. de Rochebrune had a lover. A dashing young French officer was Raoul de Beaulac. Maddened with love and rage he closely watched Bigot's movements in the city, and determined to repossess his treasure, it mattered not, at what sacrifice. Bigot's was a difficult game to play. He had a liaison with one of the most fascinating and fashionable married ladies of Quebec, and was thus prevented from hastening to see the fair prey awaiting him at Beaumanoir. Raoul played a bold game, and calling jealousy to his help, he went and confided the deed to Madame Pean, Bigot's fair charmer, entreating her immediate interference, and after some hairbreadth escapes, arrived at the Chateau with her just in time to save Mdlle de Rochebrune from dishonor.

Madame Pean was returning to the city with Mdlle de Rochebrune and Raoul, when on driving past the walls of the Intendant's palace, close to the spot where Desfosses street now begins, her carriage was attacked by a band of armed men—a reconnoitering party from Wolfe's fleet, anchored at Montmorency. A scuffle ensued, shots were fired, and some of the assailants killed; but in the melee Mdlle. de Rochebrune was seized and hurried into the English boat commanded by one Capt. Brown. During the remainder of the summer the Canadian maid, treated with every species of respect, remained a prisoner on board the admiral's ship. (It is singular that Admiral Durell, whose beloved young son was at the time a prisoner of war at Three Rivers, did not propose an exchange of prisoners.) In the darkness and confusion which attended the disembarking of Wolfe's army on the night of the 12th of September, 1759, at Sillery, Mdlle. de Rochebrune slipped down the side of the vessel, and getting into one of the smaller boats, drifted ashore with the tide, and landed at Cap Rouge, just as her lover Raoul, who was a Lieutenant in La Roche-Beaucour's Cavalry was patrolling the heights of Sillery. Overpowered with joy, she rode behind him back to the city, and left him on nearing her home; but, to her horror, she spied dodging her footsteps her arch enemy the Intendant, and fell down in a species of fit, which turned out to be catalepsy. This furnishes, of course, a very moving tableau. The fair girl—-supposed to be dead—-was laid out in her shroud, when Raoul, during the confusion of that terrible day for French Rule, the 13th September, calling to see her, finds her a corpse just ready for interment. Fortunately for the heroine, a bombshell forgotten in the yard, all at once and in the nick of time igniting, explodes, shattering the tenement in fragments. The concussion recalls Mdlle. de Rochebrune to life; a happy marriage soon after ensues. The chief character in the novel, the Intendant sails shortly after for France, where he was imprisoned, as history states, in the Bastile, during fifteen months, and his ill-gotten gains confiscated. All this, with the exception of Mdlle. de Rochebrune's career, is strictly historical."

THE FALLS OF THE CHAUDIERE.

A tourist of a cultured mind and familiar with classic lore, standing on the lofty brow of the Chaudiere, might, without any peculiar flights of imagination, fancy he beholds around him a solitary dell of that lovely TEMPE immortalized in song:

"Est nemos Haemoniae, praerupta quod undique claudit Silva; vocant Tempe; per quae Peneus ab imo Effusus Pindo, spumosis volvitur undis, Dejectuque gravi tenues agitantia fumos Nubila conducit, sommasque aspergine silvas Impluit, et sonitu plus quam vicina fatigat." Ovid Met. I—568.

The Falls of the Chaudiere, in their chief features, differ entirely from the majestic cascade of Montmorency.

"To a person who desires nothing more than the primary and sudden electric feeling of an overpowering and rapturous surprise, the cascade of Montmorency would certainly be preferable, but to the visitor, whose understanding and sensibilities are animated by an infusion of antiquated romance, the Falls of the Chaudiere would be more attractive." [331]

This favourite resort of tourists is accessible by two modes of travel. We would assuredly advise visitors, both on account of the striking objects to be met with, to select the water route, going the land route on their return; a small steamer plies daily, for a 10 cent fare, at stated hours, from the Lower Town market place, touching at Sillery and skirting the dark frowning cliffs of Cape Diamond, amidst the shipping, affording a unique view of the mural-crowned city. After stopping five minutes at the Sillery wharf, the steamer crosses over and lands its passengers nearly opposite the R. C. Church of St. Romuald, which, with its frescoed ceiling and ornate interior is one of the handsomest temples of worship round Quebec. Vehicles are abundant at Levi and at St. Romuald; an hour's drive will land the tourist on the weird and romantic brink of the Chaudiere, either by following the lower road on the beach, skirting the adjoining highland, or taking the road on the heights.

"Although yielding in grandeur to Niagara and Montmorency, it possesses features more interesting than either. The river, in its course of one hundred miles over a rugged bed, full of rapids and falls, is here narrowed to a width of between three hundred and four hundred feet, and is precipitated over a height of about one hundred and thirty feet, preserving the characteristic features of its boiling waters, till it mingles with the St. Lawrence. Hence it has received the appropriate name of Chaudiere or Caldron. Instead of descending in one continuous sheet, it is divided by large projecting rocks into three channels or cataracts, which, however, unite before reaching the basin below. A globular figure is imparted to the descending volumes of brilliant white foam, in consequence of the deep excavations of the rocks, and the clouds of spray produce in the sunshine a brilliant variety of prismatic colours. The dark-green foliage of the dense forests that overhang the torrent on both sides, forms a striking contrast with its snow-white foam.

"The wild diversity of rocks, the foliage of the overhanging woods, the rapid motion, the effulgent brightness and the—deeply solemn sound of the cataracts, all combine to present a rich assemblage of objects highly attractive, especially when the visitor, emerging from the wood, is instantaneously surprised by the delightful scene. Below, the view is greatly changed, and the falls produce an additionally strong and vivid impression.

"If strangers view the Falls from one side of the river only, the prospect from the eastern shore is recommended as preferable.

"The Falls of Montmorency are not immediately surrounded by any rugged scenery, calculated to strengthen and perpetuate the peculiar emotion which is excited by the first glimpse of the cascade, but the dreary wildness in the foliage of the encircling forest, the total absence of every vestige of human improvement, and the tumultuous waves and commotion and effulgence that incessantly occupy the mind and rivet the senses of the beholder in the survey of the Chaudiere, conjoined with the wider expansion and larger quantity of water in the stream, in the opinion of many visitors more than compensate for the greater elevation from which the waters of the Montmorency are precipitated."

On returning to the town of Levi, the tourist, taking the upper road, may visit the Falls of Etchemin, where have existed for close on a century, the extensive saw mills of Sir John Caldwell. They are now owned by Henry Atkinson, Esq.



APPENDIX

[See p. 4.]

JACQUES CARTIER'S OFFICERS AND CREW.

Liste de l'Equipage de Jacques Cartier, conservee dans les archives de St. Malo, France—revue avec soin sur le fac-simile par C. H. Laverdiere, Ptre., Bibliothecaire de l'Universite Laval, 22 novembre, 1859.

Jacques Cartier, capne. Thomas Fourmont, Me. de la nef. Guille. Le breton Bastille, capne. et pilote du Galion. Jacq. Maingar, me. du Galion. Marc Jalobert, capne. et pilote du Courlieu. Guille. de Marie, me. de Courlieu. Laurent Boulain. Estienne Nouel. Pierre Esmery dict Talbot. Michel Herue. Estienne Reumevel. Michel Audiepore. Bertrande Samboste. Richard Lebay, Faucamps. Lucas pere Sr., ou Lucas Jacq, Sr., Fammys. Francois Guiteault, Apoticaire. Georges Mabille. Guillme. Sequart, charpentier. Robin Le Fort. Samson Ripault, barbier. Francoys Guillet. Guillme. Esnault, charpentier. Jehan Dabin, charpentier. Jehan Duuert. Julien Golet. Thomas Boulain. Michel Philipot. Jehan Hamel. Jehan Fleury. Guille. Guilbert. Colas Barbe. Laurens Gaillot. Guille. Bochier. Michel Eon. Jean Anthoine. Michel Maingard. Jehan Margen. Bertrand Apuril. Giles Staffin. Geoffrey Olliuier. Guille. de Guerneze Eustache Grossin. Guillme. Allierte. Jehan Ravy. Pierres Marquier, trompet. Guille. Legentilhomme. Raoullet Maingard. Francoys Duault. Herue Henry. Yvon Legal. Anthoine Alierte. Jehan Colas. Jacq Poinsault. Dom Guille. Le Breton. Dom Antoine. Philipe Thomas, charpentier. Jacq. Duboys. Julien Plantiruet. Jehan Go. Jehan Legentilhomme. Michel Douquais, charpentier. Jehan Aismery, charpentier. Pierre Maingart. Lucas Clauier. Goulset Riou. Jehan Jacq. de Morbihan. Pierre Nyel. Legendre Estienne Leblanc. Jehan Pierres. Jehan Commuyres. Anthoine Desgranches. Louys Donayrer. Pierre Coupeaulx. Pierres Jonchee.

74 signatures; the subsequent seven signatures were added in the answer to the Quebec Prize Historical Questions, submitted in 1879.

Jean Gouyon. Charles Gaillot. Claude de Pontbrians. Charles de la Pommeraye. Jean Poullet. Philippe Rougemont. De Goyelle.

"JACQUES QUARTIER, THE PILOT."

"Gerald, eleventh Earl of Kildare, was born on the 26th of February, 1525. He was ten years of age at the time of his brother's arrest, and then lying ill with the small-pox at Donore in the County Kildare. He was committed to the care of his tutor, Thomas Leverous, who conveyed him in a large basket into Offaly to his sister, Lady Mary O'Connor. There he remained until he perfectly recovered. The misfortunes of his family had excited great sympathy for the boy over the whole of Ireland. This made the government anxious to have him in their power; and they endeavored accordingly to induce O'Brien to surrender him to them. About the 5th of March, 1540, Lady Eleanor O'Donnel, suspecting that it was the intention of her husband to surrender Gerald to the English Government, resolved to send him away. She engaged a merchant vessel of St. Malo which happened to be in Donegal Bay, to convey a small party to the coast of Brittany.

"Bartholomew Warner, an agent of the English Government, sends the following account of this transaction to Sir John Wallop, the English Ambassador in France:

"'After ther departing from Yrlande they arryved at Murles (Morlaix) wher, as he was well receyvyd of the Captayne, whiche leadde him throughe the towne by the hande, wher he tarryed 3 or 4 days, and strayghtwayes, the captayne sent word to Monsieur de Chattebriande off ther arrivying ther. * * * * And from thens they came in the sayde shippe to Saynt Malo, where he was also well receyvyd of them of the Town, and specially of Jacques Quartier, the pilot, which your Lordship spake off at my being at Rouene.'"—The Earls of Kildare and their Ancestors, from 1057 to 1773, by the Marquis of Kildare. 3rd edition, pp. 179, 196.

DISCOVERY OF THE REMAINS OF JACQUES CARTIER'S VESSEL, THE "PETITE HERMINE."

(Note for pages 429-431-455.)

On the 25th of August, 1843, there was much commotion among the antiquarians of our old city. Mr. Jos. Hamel, the city surveyor, had thought it proper to call the attention of the Literary and Historical Society to the remains of a vessel lying at the brook St. Michel, which falls into the River St. Charles on the north bank about half way between the General Hospital and old Dorchester Bridge. This vessel was supposed to be the Petite Hermine, one of Jacques Cartier's vessels left by him at the place where he wintered in 1535-6.

"The existence of this vessel had been known to persons frequenting the place for a great many years. Part of it, the farthest out in the stream, had been carried away for firewood or otherwise, and the forepart of the vessel was covered with clay and earth from the adjoining bank to the depth of six or seven feet. This was in great part removed, leaving the keel and part of the planking and ribs visible. The vessel had been built of large-grained oak, which was mostly in a good state of preservation, although discolored, and the iron spikes and bolts were still strong. The bolts in the keel, contrary to the usual practice, had been placed in from below. This is the spot where Jacques Cartier, is supposed to have wintered. The tide rises in the entrance of the brook, where the vessel lies, about six or seven feet. This entrance forms a semi-circular cove, on each side of which towards the St. Charles, the earth is elevated so as to have the appearance of a breastwork; the bank to the west of the cove is about eighteen feet high, and it was then covered with thick brush which prevented its being fully examined. The distance of the place from town is about one mile; the road is over the Dorchester Bridge and along the north bank of the St. Charles."—(Quebec Gazette, August 30, 1843).

(From the Quebec Gazette, 30th August, 1843.)

"In the last number (August 25th, inst.,) of Le Canadien there is an article of deep interest to the Canadian antiquarian: The long agitated question as to the where or whereabouts Jacques Cartier, on his second voyage from France to this continent spent the winter of 1535-6; whether at the embouchure of the river bearing his name emptying into the St. Lawrence some ten or eleven leagues above Quebec, or in the little river St. Charles to the north of and at the foot of the promontory on which Quebec is built, is now, it would seem, about to be solved and satisfactorily set at rest by the recent discovery of the remains of a vessel, doubtless of European construction, supposed to be those of La Petite Hermine, of about 60 tons burthen, one of the three (La Grande Hermine, La Petite Hermine, and L'Emerillon), with which on the 19th of May, 1535, that intrepid navigator left St. Malo.

The article alluded to, which we believe to be the work of the editor himself (Mr. McDonald) of Le Canadien, logically establishes from Jacques Cartier's narrative that the place of his wintering, or Sainte Croix, as he named it, can be none other than the little river St. Charles, as we now call it. "Coasting," says he, "the said island (Orleans) we found at the upper end of it an expanse of water very beautiful and pleasant, at which place there is a little river and bar harbor with two or three fathoms of water, which we found to be a place suitable for putting our vessels in safety. We called it Ste. Croix, because on that day, (14th September) we arrived there. Near this place there are natives, whose chief is Donnacona and who lives there, which place is called Stadacone," (now Quebec). Cartier observes in another part of his narrative that Sainte Croix was situate half a league from and to the north of Quebec. Again, speaking of the residence (Stadacone) of Donnacona, he says, "under which high land towards the north is the river and harbour Sainte Croix, at which place we remained from the 15th of September, to the 16th of May, 1536, where the vessels remained dry."