"MONUMENT TO LIEUT. BAINES, R.A.--Few of our readers but recollect and cherish the name of Lieut. Baines, who unfortunately lost his life while gallantly endeavoring to arrest the progress of the conflagration which destroyed the greater portion of St. Roch's suburbs in October, 1866. His gallant devotion to duty, and his zeal in one of the most praiseworthy and charitable objects that ever engaged the attention of man, has caused his memory to be cherished with love and respect by every one of our citizens. Last year the ladies of the General Hospital sent a tribute of their grat.i.tude to his widowed mother in England, worked by their own hands. Now the citizens of Quebec have completed their share of the grateful task. We had the mournful pleasure yesterday of viewing one of the most chaste and graceful monuments that adorn Mount Hermon Cemetery, erected by public subscription, and placed over the grave of one whose memory is so dearly cherished by all. The monument is of the Egyptian style of architecture, an obelisk 18 feet in height, with a base of 4 feet 10 inches, designed and modelled by our talented fellow-citizen, Mr. F.

Morgan, sculptor, St. John street, so many of whose cla.s.sic memorials of the dead grace Mount Hermon. It is cut from a solid block of imported sandstone, and in chasteness of design or execution is not excelled on this continent. It bears the following inscription:--

Erected by the citizens of Quebec To preserve the memory and to record their grat.i.tude for the gallant services of Lieut. Henry Edmund Baines, Royal Artillery, whose death was occasioned by his n.o.ble efforts to arrest the progress of the calamitous fire which, on the 14th Oct., 1866 destroyed a large portion of the city.

Born at Shrewsbury, England, April 4, 1840 Died at Quebec Oct. 27, 1866

Surmounting the epitaph is the coat of arms of the Royal Artillery, chiselled out of the solid block by the hands of a finished artist, with the motto of the regiment in a scroll underneath--"_Quo fas et gloria duc.u.n.t_' The erection of this, monument to the memory of the brave but unfortunate young officer is a n.o.ble tribute of grat.i.tude on the part of our citizens, and in entrusting its execution to our talented fellow-townsman, Mr. Morgan, the committee has shown a wise, discretion that makes the completion of their task one upon which they may heartily congratulate themselves.

A VOICE FROM MOUNT HERMON

DEDICATED TO MRS. BAINES, BY MRS. A. CAMPBELL

My dust lies sleeping here, Mother dear!

In this, far off distant land, Away from your little band, And the touch of loving hand, Your boy lies sleeping here, Mother dear!

The Ocean rolls between Mother dear!

You and your own boy's grave, And the distant rush of waves On the pebbly sh.o.r.e to lave, Is the requiem sung between, Mother dear!

Mine is a sweet green spot.

Mother dear!

And the song of the bird Is ever heard In the trees that gird Us, in this quiet spot Mother dear!

And echo answers here Mother dear!

The tinkle of chapel bell, And the murmur of its knell And the mourners "_It is well_,'

Echo answers here, Mother dear!

To picture my last home, Mother dear!

I am laid me down to rest, Where "Our Father" saw 'twas best, In this quiet little nest, For my last home, Mother dear!

And my spirit is with Him, Mother dear!

In the precious home above, Where all is light and love, There rests your own dear dove, Now with Him, Mother dear!

Through Jesus' blood I'm here, Mother dear!

In this happy, heavenly land, One of a glorious band, Touched by His healing hand, Through Jesus I am here, Mother dear!

So dry that bitter tear, Mother dear!

'Twill not be very long Ere with Jesus you'll sing the song, Sung by those who to Him belong, And wipe that bitter tear-- Mother dear!

BARDFIELD

THE LATE BISHOP MOUNTAIN'S COUNTRY SEAT.

"Far from me and my friends be that frigid philosophy, which can make us pa.s.s unmoved over any scenes which have been consecrated by virtue, by valour, or by wisdom."--JOHNSON.

Pleasant the memories of our rustic homes! 'Tis pleasant, after December's murky nights, or January and February's inexorable chills, to go and bask on the sunny banks of our great river, under the shade of trees, in the balmy spring, and amidst the gifts of a bountiful nature, to inhale fragrance and health and joy. Pleasant, also, to wander during September in our solemn woods, "with footsteps inaudible on the soft yellow floor, composed of the autumnal sheddings of countless years." Yes, soothing to us are these memories of home--of home amus.e.m.e.nts, home pleasures, and even of home sorrows. Sweeter still, even though tinged with melancholy, the remembrance of the departed friends,--those guardian spirits we once saw moving in some of our Canadian homes in the legitimate pride of hospitality--surrounded by young and loving hearts--enshrined in the respect of their fellow men.

Oft has it been our privilege at that festive season of our year, when a hallowed custom brings Canada's sons and daughters together with words of greeting and good-fellowship, to wend our way to Bardfield, high on the breezy hills of Sillery, and exchange a cordial welcome with the venerable man who had dwelt in our midst for many long years. Seldom has it been our lot to approach one who, as a scholar, a gentleman, a prelate, or what is more than all those t.i.tles put together, a truly good man, impressed himself more agreeably on our mind.

Another revolution of the circling year and the good pastor, the courteous gentleman, the learned divine, our literary [240] friend and neighbour, the master of Bardfield, had been s.n.a.t.c.hed from among us and from an admiring public. Where is the Quebecer who has not noticed the neat cottage on the north of the St. Lewis road, where lived and died the Lord Bishop Mountain? As you pa.s.s, you see as formerly its lovely river view, gravelled walks, curving avenue, and turfy lawns, luxuriant hedges designed by a hand now cold in death. Bardfield continues to be occupied by Miss Mountain and other members of the late Bishop's family. A school house, in the rural Gothic style, quite an ornament to Sillery, has been erected by His Lordship's family, as a memorial of the sojourn at this spot of this true friend of suffering humanity and patron of education.

Bardfield, founded about forty years ago by an eminent merchant of Quebec, Peter Burnet, Esquire, was recently purchased by Albert Furness, Esquire and by him leased to Charles Earnest Levey, Esquire, until Kirke Ella, the property of Mr. Levy, is rebuilt.

THE FAMILY OF MOUNTAIN

The family of Mountain, which is a very old Norman family, and therefore of French extraction, originally wrote their name "de Montaigne," from the name of their estates at Perigord, near Bordeaux, and as stated in the life of one of its members, the well-known Michael Seigneur de Montaigne, the essayist and philosopher, "This race was n.o.ble, but n.o.ble without any great l.u.s.tre till his time, which fortune showed him signal favours, and, together with honorary and t.i.tular distinctions, procured for him the collar of the Order of St. Michael, which at that time was the utmost mark of honour of the French _n.o.blesse_, and very rare. He was twice elected mayor of Bordeaux, his father, a man of great honour and equity, having formerly also had the same dignity."

Michael left only a daughter--Leonor or Leonora, who by marrying a distant cousin of the same name, preserved the estates in the family, as they had been for more than a century before they were inherited by her father. These remained in possession of the senior branch until the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, when, having espoused the Protestant cause, they were forced to sacrifice them and quit the country in 1685, with what ready money they could hastily get together. With this they purchased an estate in Norwich, England; from which in after generations several of the family went out to Canada, and among them the late Bishop of Quebec.

To him, likewise I have heard attributed the irreverent piece of wit alluded to by the _Witness_; but with equal injustice, as his son, the late Bishop of Quebec a.s.sured me. [241]

It is one of those sayings evidently made up for people whose names or position suit for hanging them on.

George Mountain, D.D., Archbishop of York, was a contemporary of Michael de Montaigne, and a scion of the same family, though through a younger branch, which appears to have crossed over from France about the time of the ma.s.sacre of St. Bartholomew in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and for the same reason that the elder branch did afterwards, namely, because of their religious tenets.

It is not by any means improbable that by this separation from the rest of his family, who were still adherents of the Roman Catholic faith, and the consequent abandonment of worldly prospects for the sake of religious principles, the Archbishop's progenitors may have been reduced in circ.u.mstances, but only comparatively with what he had lost before, for history shows that the Archbishop himself was, born at Callwood Castle, educated at Queen's College, Cambridge, chosen a Fellow in 1591, and Junior Proctor of that University in 1600, Dean of Westminster in 1610, Bishop of Lincoln in 1617, Bishop of London in 1621, Bishop of Durham in 1627, and Archbishop of York in 1628.

JACOB J. C. MOUNTAIN,

Formerly of Coteau de Lac, Canada, now Vicar of Bulford, England.

BULFORD VICARAGE, Amesbury, Salisbury, May 30, 1877.

BENMORE.

We like to portray to ourselves our energetic neighbour of Benmore House, such as we can recall him in his palmy, sporting days of 1865; we shall quote from the _Maple Leaves_ of that year:

"It will not be one of the least glories of 'Our Parish,' even when the Province will have expanded into an empire, with Sillery as the seat of Vice Royalty, to be able to boast of possessing the Canadian, the adopted home of a British officer of wealth and intelligence, known to the sporting world as the Great Northern Hunter. Who had not heard of the _battues_ of Col. Rhodes on the snow-clad peaks of Cap Tourment, on the Western Prairies, and all along the Laurentian chain of mountains? One man alone through the boundless territory extending from Quebec to the North Pole, can dispute the belt with the Sillery Nimrod, but then, a mighty hunter is he; by name in the St. Joachim settlement, Olivier Cauchon, to Canadian sportsmen known as _Le Roi des Bois_. It is said, but we cannot vouch for the fact--that Cauchon, in order to acquire the scent, swiftness and sagacity of the cariboo, has lived on cariboo milk, with an infusion of moss and bark, ever since his babyhood, but that this very winter (1865) he killed, with slugs, four cariboo at one shot, we can vouch for.

A few weeks since, a _habitant_ with a loaded sleigh pa.s.sed our gate; on the top of his load was visible a n.o.ble pair of antlers. "Qui a tue-- ces cariboo?" we asked. Honest John Baptiste replied, "Le Colonel Rhodes, Monsieur." Then followed a second--then a third. Same question asked, to which for reply--"Le Colonel Rhodes, Monsieur." Then another sleigh load of cariboo, in all twelve Cariboo, two sleighs of hare, grouse and ptarmigan, then a man carrying a dead _carcajou_, then in the distance, the soldier-like phiz of the Nimrod himself, nimbly following on foot the cavalcade. This was too much, we stopped and threatened the Colonel to apply to Parliament for an Act to protect the game of Canada against his unerring rifle. Were we not fully aware of the gratifying fact, that, under recent legislative enactment, the fish and game of Canada have much increased, we might be inclined to fancy that the Colonel will never rest until he has bagged the last moose, the last cariboo in the country.

Benmore nestles cosily in a pine grove on the banks of the great river, the type of an English Country gentleman's homestead. In front of the house, a s.p.a.cious piazza, from which you can watch the river craft; in the vast surrounding meadows, a goodly array of fat Durhams and Ayrshires, in the farm-yard, short-legged Berkshires squeaking merrily in the distance, rosy-cheeked English boys romping on the lawn, surrounded by pointers and setters: such, the grateful sights which, greeted our eyes one lovely June morning round Benmore House, the residence of the President of the Quebec Game Club, and late member of Parliament for Megantic." (Written in 1865.)

IMPORTATION OF BIRDS.

Sixteen years have elapsed since these lines were penned, and the Colonel has devoted much time, spent a large amount of capital on his vegetable farm and his green houses. Agriculturalists and naturalists will know him as the introducer of the English sparrow and the Messina quail.

_THE SPARROW AND QUAIL._

Information for Mr. Lemoine on the importation of the European house sparrow and on that of the migratory quail. In consequence of great complaints all over the United States of the ravages of insects and particularly of caterpillars, amongst street and park trees and their visible destruction, it was generally recommended to girdle the trees with tin troughs containing oil or some liquid, also to pick the insects off the infected trees. This course had been followed to a very considerable extent, when it struck me the importation of the common house sparrow would meet the difficulty. In 1854 I imported sparrows. I turned loose six birds at Portland, Maine, and brought about as many more to Quebec.

On turning the birds loose at Portland, I wrote a letter to the _Portland Advertiser_, recommending the English sparrow as an insect destroyer, especially in the early spring months when the native birds are away on their migrations. This idea of picking off insects with birds commended itself to the munic.i.p.al authorities of Boston and other large cities, who made large importations of sparrows, with the result of saving their ornamental trees from destruction.

The first colony of sparrows failed at Quebec. I therefore made two more importations, succeeding at last by wintering over thirteen birds --This occurred about ten years ago, there are now house sparrows all over Canada, our French Canadians say "_C'est un oiseau qui suit la Religion_" frequenting churches, convents and sacred places, and it is considered a privilege to have so good a bird about the house. The sparrow lives readily in Canada, as it feeds on the droppings of the horse and takes shelter down the chimneys or under the roofs of the houses. The enemies of the sparrow are very numerous, notably the great Northern Shrike, the owls, hawks and in summer the swifts and swallows. I have seen the English sparrow from New York to St.

Francisco, and from the Saguenay to Florida. In some places the bird is used as an article of food, and there is no doubt this will be the case generally; it will also become an object of sport for young shooters and trappers in America, the same as it has always been in Europe.