winds its way among the thousand Islands, can hardly be imagined.
The number and constant successions of these islands, all green and
richly wooded; their fluctuating sizes, some so large that for half
an hour together one among them will appear as the opposite bank of
the river, and some so small that they are mere dimples on its
broad bosom; their infinite variety of shapes; and the numberless
combinations of beautiful forms which the trees growing on them
present: all form a picture fraught with uncommon interest and
pleasure.
In the afternoon we shot down some rapids where the river boiled
and bubbled strangely, and where the force and headlong violence of
the current were tremendous. At seven o’clock we reached
Dickenson’s Landing, whence travellers proceed for two or three
hours by stage-coach: the navigation of the river being rendered
so dangerous and difficult in the interval, by rapids, that
steamboats do not make the passage. The number and length of those
PORTAGES, over which the roads are bad, and the travelling slow,
render the way between the towns of Montreal and Kingston, somewhat
tedious.
Our course lay over a wide, uninclosed tract of country at a little
distance from the river-side, whence the bright warning lights on
the dangerous parts of the St. Lawrence shone vividly. The night
was dark and raw, and the way dreary enough. It was nearly ten
o’clock when we reached the wharf where the next steamboat lay; and
went on board, and to bed.
She lay there all night, and started as soon as it was day. The
morning was ushered in by a violent thunderstorm, and was very wet,
but gradually improved and brightened up. Going on deck after
breakfast, I was amazed to see floating down with the stream, a
most gigantic raft, with some thirty or forty wooden houses upon
it, and at least as many flag-masts, so that it looked like a
nautical street. I saw many of these rafts afterwards, but never
one so large. All the timber, or ‘lumber,’ as it is called in
America, which is brought down the St. Lawrence, is floated down in
this manner. When the raft reaches its place of destination, it is
broken up; the materials are sold; and the boatmen return for more.
At eight we landed again, and travelled by a stage-coach for four
hours through a pleasant and well-cultivated country, perfectly
French in every respect: in the appearance of the cottages; the
air, language, and dress of the peasantry; the sign-boards on the
shops and taverns: and the Virgin’s shrines, and crosses, by the
wayside. Nearly every common labourer and boy, though he had no
shoes to his feet, wore round his waist a sash of some bright
colour: generally red: and the women, who were working in the
fields and gardens, and doing all kinds of husbandry, wore, one and
all, great flat straw hats with most capacious brims. There were
Catholic Priests and Sisters of Charity in the village streets; and
images of the Saviour at the corners of cross-roads, and in other
public places.
At noon we went on board another steamboat, and reached the village
of Lachine, nine miles from Montreal, by three o’clock. There, we
left the river, and went on by land.
Montreal is pleasantly situated on the margin of the St. Lawrence,
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and is backed by some bold heights, about which there are charming
rides and drives. The streets are generally narrow and irregular,
as in most French towns of any age; but in the more modern parts of
the city, they are wide and airy. They display a great variety of
very good shops; and both in the town and suburbs there are many
excellent private dwellings. The granite quays are remarkable for
their beauty, solidity, and extent.
There is a very large Catholic cathedral here, recently erected
with two tall spires, of which one is yet unfinished. In the open
space in front of this edifice, stands a solitary, grim-looking,
square brick tower, which has a quaint and remarkable appearance,
and which the wiseacres of the place have consequently determined