How many vicissitudes in the destinies of places, men, families, nations!

See yonder mansion, its verdant leaves, with the leafy honours of nascent spring encircling it like a garland, exhaling the aroma of countless buds and blossoms, embellished by conservatory, grapery, avenues of fruit and floral trees. Does not every object bespeak comfort, rural felicity, commercial success!

When you enter that snug billiard-room, luxuriously fitted up with fire place, ottomans, &c., or when, on a balmy summer evening, you are seated on the ample verandah, next to the kind host, do you not my legal friend, feel inclined to repeat to yourself "Commerce, commerce is the turnpike to health, to affluence, the path to consideration." But was the scene always so smiling, and redolent of rustic enjoyment.

If so, what means yon stately column, [276] surmounted by its fat, helmetted Bellona, mysteriously looking round as if pregnant with a mighty unfathomable future. Ask history? Open Capt. Knox's _Journal of the Siege of Quebec_, and read therein how, in front of that very spot where you now stand, along that identical road, over which you emerged from the city, war once threw her sorrows, ask this brave British officer to retrace one of those winter scenes he witnessed here more than one hundred years ago: the howling blast of the north sighing through the few remaining gnarled pines and oaks spared by Albion's warriors; add to it tired teams of English troops, laboriously drawing, yoked eight by eight, long sledges of firewood for Murray's depressed, hara.s.sed garrison, and you have something like John Knox's _tableau_ of St. Foye Road on the 7th December, 1759.--

"Our garrison, now undergo incredible fatigue, not only within but also without the walls, being obliged to load and sleigh home firewood from the forest of St. Foy, which is near four miles distant, and through snow of a surpa.s.sing depth, eight men are allowed to each sleigh, who are yoked to it in couples by a set of regular harness, besides one man who guides it behind with a long stout pole, to keep it clear of ruts and other obstructions. We are told that M. de Levis is making great preparations for the long-meditated a.s.sault on this place (Quebec) with which we are menaced. Christmas is said to be the time fixed for this enterprise, and _Monsieur_ says, 'if he succeed he shall be promoted to be _Marechal de France_, and if he fail, Canada will be lost, for he will give it up.'"

[277]

Do not, dear reader, however fear for the old rock, it is tolerably secure so long as Fraser's Highlanders and British Grenadiers garrison it.

We have here endeavored to contrast the smiling present with the dreary past; peace, progress, wealth, as we find it to-day in this important appendage of the British Crown, ready to expand into an empire, with the dismal appearance of things when it was scantily settled, and in those dark days when war stalked through our land. Hamwood takes its name from that of the paternal estate of the Hamiltons, county of Meath, Ireland, and without pretending to architectural excellence, it is one of the loveliest spots on the St. Foye road. It belongs to Robert Hamilton, Esq., a leading merchant of Quebec.

_BIJOU._

And I have heard the whispers of the trees, And the low laughter of the wandering wind, Mixed with the hum of golden-belted bees, And far away, dim echoes, undefined,-- That yet had power to thrill my listening ear, Like footsteps of the spring that is so near.

--(_Wood Voices_, KATE S. McL.)

Shall we confess that we ever had a fancy for historical contrasts? It is our weakness, perhaps our besetting sin; and when, on a balmy June day, at the hour when the king of day it sipping the dew-drops from the flowers, we ride past this unadorned but charming little Canadian home, next to Westfield, on the St. Foye heights, as it were sunning itself amidst emerald fields, fanned by the breath of the fragrant morn, enlivened by the gambols of merry childhood; memory, in spite of us, brings back the ghastly sights, the sickening Indian horrors, witnessed here on the 28th April, 1760. There can be no doubt on this point; the mute, but eloquent witnesses of the past are dug up every day: shot, sh.e.l.l, bullets, old bayonets, decayed military b.u.t.tons, all in the greatest profusion.

"The savages," says Garneau, "who were nearly all in the woods behind during the fight, spread over the battle-field when the French were pursuing the enemy, and killed many of the wounded British, whose scalps were afterwards found upon neighboring bushes. As soon as De Levis was apprised of the ma.s.sacre, he took vigorous measures for putting a stop to it. Within a comparatively narrow s.p.a.ce nearly 2,500 men had been struck by bullets. The patches of snow and icy puddles on the ground were so reddened with the blood shed, that the frozen ground refused to absorb, and the wounded survivors of the battle were immersed in pools of gore and filth, ankle deep."

Such _was_ the deadly strife in April, 1760, on the identical spot on which, reader, you and we now stand on the St. Foye heights. Such is _now_ the smiling aspect of things as you see them at Bijou, which crowns the heights over the great Bijou marsh, etc., the dwelling of Andrew Thomson, Esq., (now President of the Union Bank of Quebec.) Some natural springs in the flower garden, in rear of the dwelling, and slopes of the ground, when turned to advantage, in the way of terraces and fountains, bid fair to enhance materially the beauty of this rustic spot.

_ANECDOTE OF WOLFE'S ARMY (1760).--QUEBEC._

By a volunteer (J. T.).

"At the Battle of the Plains of Abraham we had but one Piper, and because he was not provided with Arms and the usual other means of defence, like the rest of the men, he was made to keep aloof for safety:--When our line advanced to the charge, General Townshend observing that the Piper was missing, and knowing well the value of one on such occasions, he sent in all directions for him, and he was heard to say aloud. "Where's the Highland Piper?" and "Five pounds for a Piper;" but devil a bit did the Piper come forward the sooner.

However, the charge, by good chance, was pretty well effected without him, as all those that escaped could testify. For this business the Piper was disgraced by the whole of the Regiment, and the men would not speak to him, neither would they suffer his rations to be drawn with theirs, but had them serv'd out by the Commissary separately, and he was obliged to shift for himself as well as he could.

The next spring, in the month of April, when the Garrison of Quebec was so madly march'd out, to meet the French, who had come down again to attack us, and while we were on the retreat back to the Town, the Highlanders, who were a raw undisciplin'd set, were got into great disorder, and had become more like a mob than regular soldiers. On the way I fell in with a captain Moses Hazen, [278] a Jew, who commanded a company of Rangers, and who was so badly wounded, that his servant, who had to carry him away, was obliged to rest him on the grounds at every twenty or thirty yards, owing to the great pain he endured. This intrepid fellow, observing that there was a solid column of the French coming on over that high ground where Commissary General Craigie [279]

built his house, and headed by an Officer who was at some distance in advance of the column, he ask'd his servant if his fuzee was stil loaded? (The servant opened the pan, and found it is still prim'd).

"Do you see," says Captain Hazen, "that fellow there, waving his sword to encourage those other fellows to come forward?"--Yes, says the servant, I do Sir;--Then, says the Captain again, "just place your back against mine for one moment, 'till I see if I can bring him down." He accordingly stretch'd himself on the ground, and, resting the muzzle of his fuzee on his toes, he let drive at the French Officer. I was standing close behind him, and I thought it perfect madness to attempt it. However, away went the charge after him, and faith down he was in an instant. Both the Captain and myself were watching for some minutes, under an idea that altho' he _had_ laid down, he might perhaps take it into his head to get up again. But no.

And the moment that he fell, the whole column that he was leading on, turn'd about and decamp'd off leaving him to follow as well as he might! I could'nt help telling the Captain that he had made a capital shot, and I related to him the affair of the foolish fellow of our grenadiers who shot the savage at the landing at Louisbourg, altho'

the distance was great, and the rolling of the boat so much against his taking a steady aim. "Oh! yes, says Captain Hazen, you know that a _chance shot_ will kill the Devil himself."

But, to return to the Highlanders: so soon as the Piper had discovered that his men had scatter'd and were in disorder, he as soon recollected the disgrace that still hung upon him, and he likely bethought to give them a blast of his Pipes. By the Lord Harry! this had the effect of stopping them short, and they allow'd themselves to be formed into a sort of order. For this opportune blast of his chanters, the Piper gain'd back the forgiveness of the Regiment, and was allow'd to take his meals with his old messmates, as if nothing- at-all had happened.

On the 6th May, 1760, which was after we had been driven back to the town by the French, and while they yet lay in their trenches across that high ground where the martello tower now stands, there came a ship of war in sight, and she was for some considerable time tacking across and across between Pointe Levis and the opposing sh.o.r.e. We were at a loss to know the meaning of all this, when the commanding Officer of Artillery bethought himself to go and acquaint General Murray (who had taken up his Quarters in Saint Louis Street, now (1828) the Officer's Barracks) of the circ.u.mstance: He found the General in a meditative mood, sitting before the fire in the chimney place. On the Officer acquainting him that there was a ship of war in sight, the General was quite electrified! He instantly got up, and, in the greatest fury, order'd the Officer to have the colours immediately hoisted on the citadel! Away he went, but dev'l a bit could the halliards be made to go free until at last, a sailor was got hold of, who soon scrambl'd up the flagstaff, and, put all to rights in a jiffy.

All this time the ship of war did not show her own colours, not knowing whether the town was in the hands of the French or the English, but as soon as she perceived our flag, she hoisted English colours, and shaped her course towards the town, and was soon safe at anchor opposite to the King's Wharf. Our men had been all the winter in bad spirits from coughs and colds, and, their having been obliged to retreat from the French, did'nt help much to mend the matter.

However, when they heard that an English man-o-war was come, it was astonishing how soon they became stout-hearted; faith, they were like lions, and just as bold! The man-o-war prov'd to be the "Lowestoffe,"

which had been detached from the main fleet below, with orders to make the best of time through the ice, and take up the earliest intelligence of the approach of the fleet. Her sides were very much torn by the floating ice. Our having hoisted colours for the first time since the conquest, and a ship of war having made her appearance, led the French to imagine that there was something strange going on.

Indeed they expected a fleet as well as ourselves, and this arrival brought them out of their trenches, as thick as midges; they appeared to us like so many pigeons upon a roost! whilst they were gaping at us in such an exposed position, they received a salute from the whole line of our guns, extending from Cape Diamond down to the Barrack Bastion, and yet they went off almost like a single volley. It was fearful enough to see how they tumbled down in their intrenchments, like so many sacks of wool! Their seeing soldiers pa.s.sing ash.o.r.e from our frigate, they thought that we were about to receive powerful reinforcements, and they scamper'd away, their killed and wounded men along with them. Our men soon were allow'd to go out, and they regaled themselves upon the soup and pork which the French had left cooking on the fires. That single discharge disabled so many of our guns, that we had to get others then in the lower town, and our men were so weak that they could not drag them up, but which was at last done with the help of the sailors just arrived in the Fleet.

In about three days after the arrival of the "Lowestoffe" the remainder of the Fleet came up to Quebec, and finding that the French had some ships lying above Wolfe's Cove, they went up to look after them. As soon as the French had seen them coming on, they slipp'd their cables, and endeavor'd to get out of the way with the help of the flood-tide, but the Commodore's ship got upon a ledge of rocks, and stuck fast, and the crew took to the boats, and got ash.o.r.e, leaving the ship to take care of itself. There was found, on board of this ship, one Mons. Cugnet and an Englishman call'd Davis, both of whom had their hands tied behind their back, and a rope about their neck, and they were inform'd that they both were to be hang'd at the yard-arm so soon as the ship's company had finish'd their breakfast!

Monsieur Cugnet was the person who, at the Island of Orleans, gave General Wolfe the information where would be the best place to get up the bank above the Town, and Davis, who had been taken prisoner by the French, some years before, had given some other kind of information, and they both were to be punish'd as spies. However, they not only got off with their lives, but were afterwards, well rewarded by our Government. The former was appointed French-Translator to the Government Offices, and something more, which enabled him to live respectably; and Davis, who had been a grenadier-soldier, got a pension of twenty five pounds a year: they both lived a long time in the enjoyment of it."

_MORTON LODGE._

The extensive green pastures which General James Murray owned, in 1768, on the St. Foy road, under the name of _Sans bruit_, [280] form at present several minor estates. One of the handsomest residences of this well wooded region was Morton Lodge, on the south side of the highway, and bounded by the Belvidere road,--about thirty-two acres in extent. It was honored with this name by one of its former owners, the builder of the lodge, some sixty years ago--the late James Black, Esquire. Morton Lodge is built in the cottage style, with a suite of roomy apartments forming a s.p.a.cious wing in rear; the lawns in front of the house, with a grove of trees, add much to its beauty; a handsome conservatory to the east opens on the drawing room; it is located in the centre of a flower garden. The additional attraction of this residence, when owned by the late David Douglas Young was an extensive collection of paintings, purchased at various times by the owner both in Canada and in Europe: the French, Flemish and Italian schools were well represented, as well as Kreighoff's winter scenery in Canada.

Morton Lodge, for many years was the residence of David Dougla.s.s Young, Esquire, once President of the Quebec Bank, and formerly a partner of the late George B. Symes, Esquire. Mr. Young claimed, on the maternal side, as ancestor, Donald Fraser, one of Fraser's (78th) Highlanders, a regiment which distinguished itself at the taking of Quebec, whilst fighting under Wolfe, on these same grounds.

Forming a portion of this estate, to the west, may be noticed a cosy little nest, _Bruce's Cottage_, as it was formerly called--now Bannockburn--surrounded on all sides by trees, lawns and flowers.

_WESTFIELD._

"What, sir, said I," cut down Goldsmith's hawthorn bush, that supplies so beautiful an image in the DESERTED VILLAGE! 'Ma foy,' exclaimed the bishop (of Ardagh,) 'is that the hawthorn bush? then ever let it be saved from the edge of the axe, and evil to him that would cut from it a branch."--_Howitt's Homes and Haunts of British Poets_.

At Mount Pleasant, about one mile from St. John's Gate, a number of agreeable suburban residences have sprung up, as if by enchantment, within a few years. This locality, from the splendid view it affords of the valley of St. Charles, the basin of the St. Lawrence and surrounding country, has ever been appreciated. The most noticeable residence is a commodious cut-stone structure, inside of the toll, erected there a few years back by the late G. H. Simard, Esq., member for Quebec, and later, purchased by the late Fred. Vannovous, Esq., Barrister. Its mate in size and appearance a few acres to the west, on the St. Foye road, is owned by the Hon. Eugene Chinic, Senator. In the vicinity, under the veil of a dense grove of trees, your eyes gather as you drive past, the outlines of a ma.s.sive, roomy homestead, on the north side of the heights, on a site which falls off considerably; groups of birch, maple, and some mountain ash and chesnut trees, flourish in the garden which surrounds the house; in rear, flower beds slope down in an enclosure, whose surface is ornamented with two tiny reservoirs of crystal water, which gushes from some perennial stream, susceptible of great embellishment at little cost, by adding _Jets d'eau_. The declivities in rear seem as if intended by nature to be laid out into lovely terraces, with flowers or verdure to fringe their summits.

In the eastern section of the domain stands,

"The hawthorne bush, with seats beneath the shade, For talking age and whispering lovers made."

Whether it blossoms on Christmas Day, like the legendary White Thorn of Glas...o...b..ry, "which sprang from Joseph of Arimathea's dry staff, stuck by him in the ground when he rested there" deponent sayeth not. This majestic and venerable tree, branching out like a diminutive cedar of Lebanon, is indeed the pride of Westfield. It is evidently of very great age, though each summer as green, as fruitful as ever; the oldest inhabitant cannot recall when it was smaller. If trees could reveal what has pa.s.sed under their boughs, would not the veteran hawthorn tell of wounded men resting beneath it; of the strange garb and cries of combatants, English, French, Celts, Canadians and Indians, on that luckless 28th April, 1760, when Murray's soldiers, were retreating in hot haste from St. Foye and placing the city walls between them and Levi's victorious legions; of shot, sh.e.l.l and bullets, [281.] whistling through its h.o.a.ry branches, on that memorable 13th of September, 1759, when the _Sauvages d'Ecosse_, with their reeking claymores, were slashing at, and pursuing the French, flying from the battle field, over the St. Foye heights, to the French Camp on the north bank of the St. Charles, in a line with the Marine Hospital.

Various indeed for as are the attractions of stately trees; we can understand why this one is the pride of Westfield. To us, an old denizen of the country, a stately tree has ever been a companionable; in fact, a reverential object. In our eyes 'tis not only rich in its own native beauty; it may perchance also borrow interest from a.s.sociations and become a part of our home--of ourselves: it may have overshadowed the rustic seat, where, in our infant years, one dear to us and now departed, read the Sunday hymn or taught us with a mother's sanctifying love to become a good citizen, in every respect worthy of our sire. Perchance it may have been planted on the day of our birth; it may also commemorate the natal hour of our first-born, and may it not like ourselves, in our early days, have required the fostering care of a guardian spirit,--the dews from heaven to refresh it and encourage its growth. Yes, like the proprietor of Westfield, we dearly love the old trees of our home.

We were invited to ascend to the loftiest point of this dwelling, and contemplate from the platform on the roof the majestic spectacle at our feet. Far below us waved the nodding pinnacles of countless forest trees; beyond and around us, the site of the old battle-fields of 1759 and 1760, to the east, the white expanse of the St. Lawrence sleeping between the Beauport, Orleans and Point Levi sh.o.r.es; to the northwest, the snake-like course of the St. Charles, stealing through fertile meadows, copses of evergreens--until, by a supreme effort, it veers round the compa.s.s at the Marine Hospital; there, at sunset, it appears as if gamboling in the light of the departing luminary, whose rays anon linger in fitful glances on the spires of Lorette, Charlesbourg and St. Sauveur, until they fade away, far away in the cerulean distance, over the sublime crags of _Tsononthouan_,

--"of these our hills the last that parleys with the setting sun."

or else gild in amber tints, the wooded slopes of the lofty ridges to the west.

Westfield, forms part of a larger expanse of land, formerly known as the "Upper Bijou," crowning the heights, overhanging the valley of the St.

Charles, where existed the "Lower Bijou," marshy and green meadows, once sacred to snipe, and on which the populous suburb St. Sauveur has recently sprung up. It was granted in free and common soccage, to the late Charles Grey Stewart, Esq., in 18--; he resided there many years.

In 1870, this lovely old homestead, became the property of the Hon. David Alex. Ross, Barrister, M.P.P. for the county of Quebec, its present occupant. Several embellishments have been added to it by this gentleman and his lady; at present, the views, groves, parterres of Westfield during the summer months are more attractive than ever.

_COUCY-LE-CASTEL._

"Sol Canadien, terre cherie Par des braves tu fus peuple, Ils cherchaient, loin de leur patrie, Une terre de liberte, Qu'elles sont belles, nos campagnes, Au Canada qu'on vit content!

About the year 1830 that portion of the environs of Quebec watered by the River St. Charles, in the vicinity of Scott's bridge, had especially attracted the attention of several of our leading citizens as pleasant and healthy abodes for their families. Two well known gentlemen in particular, the bearers of old and respected names, the late Honorable Mr. Justice Philippe Panet, and his brother the Honorable Louis Panet, "Senator selected two adjoining lots covering close on eighty acres, on the banks of the St. Charles, the Cahire-Coubat of ancient days. The main road to the east intervenes between the Hon. Judge Panet's seat and the mossy old dwelling in which Col. Arnold had his head-quarters during the winter of 1775-76, now the residence of the Langlois family. Judge Panet built there an elegant villa on an Italian design, brought home after returning from the sunny clime of Naples, the rooms are lofty and all are oval. Several hundred sombre old pines surround the house on all sides.

The neighboring villa, to the west, was planted by the Honorable Louis Panet, about 1830; also the grounds tastefully laid out in meadows, plantations and gardens, symmetrically divided off by neat spruce, thorn, and s...o...b..ll hedges, which improve very much their aspect. One fir hedge, in particular, is of uncommon beauty. To the west an ancient pine, a veritable monarch of the forest, rears his h.o.a.ry trunk, and amidst most luxuriant foliage looks down proudly on the young plantation beneath him, lending his hospitable shades to a semi-circular rustic seat--a grateful retreat during the heat of a summer's day. Next to this old tree runs a small rill, once dammed up for a fish-pond, but a colony of muskrats having "unduly elected domicile thereat," the finny denizens disappeared as if by magic; and next, the voracious _rodents_ made so many raids into the vegetable garden that the legal gentleman, who was lord of the manor, served on them _a notice to quit_, by removing the dam. The ejected amphibii crossed the river in a body and "elected domicile" in the roots of an elm tree at Poplar Grove, opposite and in full view of the castle, probably by way of a threat. On the high river banks is a twelve- pounder used formerly to crown a miniature fort erected over there. We remember on certain occasions hearing at a distance its loud _boom_.

Coucy-le-Castel is surrounded on two sides by a s.p.a.cious piazza, and stands on an elevated position close to the river bank. From the drawing- room windows is visible the even course of the fairy Cahire-Coubat, hurrying past in dark eddies, under the pendulous foliage of some graceful elms which overhang the bank at Poplar Grove, the mansion of the late L.

T. McPherson, Esq. Now and again from the small fort, amidst the murmur of rapids not far distant, you may catch the shrill note of the king-fisher in his hasty flight over the limpid stream, or see a lively trout leap in yonder deep pool; or else, in the midsummer vacation, see a birch canoe lazily floating down from _la mer Pacifique_, impelled by the arm of a pensive law student, dreaming perchance of Pothier or Blackstone,-- perchance of his lady love, whilst paddling to the air:--

"Il y a longtemps que je t'aime Jamais je ne t'oublierai."