Sir J. M. Le Moine

“ Is not Quebec the cradle of our nationality—the spot whereon is engraved the most illustrious pages of our history—heroic annals, touching souvenirs, all combining with the marvels of nature to speak here the soul of the historian and of the poet. What a flourishing field for the historian and poet is not the tale of that handful of Breton heroes, who, three centuries ago, planted on the rock of Quebec the flag of Christianity and civilization! ”

“ In place of this, I found the city more picturesque, more odd, more grand, than I had ever imagined, and peopled by a race who, if conquered in 1759, have had sweet revenge ever since, by making a conquest of every stranger who has entered Quebec—through his higher nature. It is no wonder that Quebec has such a story of song and adventure. There is romance in the river and tragedy on the hill, and while the memory of Wolfe and Montcalm is green, the city will be the Mecca of the Dominion. ”

“ Being more cosmopolitan in our tastes, we like the music of our City Bells in the dewy morn, without fearing the merry tones of our City Belles, when the silent shades of evening lends them its witchery. There is certainly as much variety in the names as there is in the chimes of our Quebec Bells.
Though the Bells of the "ancient capital" are famous in history and song, Quebec cannot boast of any such monsters of sound as the "Gros Bourdon" of Montreal—weighing 29,400 lbs., dating from 1847, "the largest bell in America." ”

“ There is something indescribably beautiful in the appearance of Canadian woods at this season of the year, especially when the light of the rising or setting sun falls upon them. Almost every imaginable shade of green, brown, red and yellow, may be found in the foliage of our forest trees, shrubs, and creeping vines, as the autumn advances and it may truly be said that every backwood's home in Canada is surrounded by more gorgeous colourings and richer beauties than the finest mansions of the nobility of England. ”

“ Lawrence, traversed by steamboats, by vessels heavily laden, and by light bark canoes, we may see early in the season immense rafts of timber that are brought down from the dense northern forests, hewn where they are felled, drawn to the rivers upon the snow, and made up into rafts. The Canadian crews erect masts and spread their sails, and by the aid of wind and current, and sometimes by rowing, they boldly guide these acres of fir down the rapids to Quebec, while they animate their labours with the melody of their popular songs. ”

“ No other desire prompted us but that of attempting to place prominently before the public the spots with which history or nature has more specially enriched Quebec. Quebecers ought to be proud of their scenery and of the historical ivy which clings to the old walls of Stadacona. Neighbouring cities may grow vast with brick and mortar; their commerce may advance with the stride of a young giant; their citizens may sit in high places among the sons of men, but can they ever compare with our own fortress for historical memories or beautiful scenery? ”

“ Over the extreme point of the southwestern cape hangs a fairy pavilion, like an eagle's eyrie amongst alpine crags, just a degree more secure than that pensile old fir tree which you notice at your feet stretching over the chasm; beneath you the majestic flood, Canada's pride, with a hundred merchantmen sleeping on its placid waters, and the orb of day dancing blithely over every ripple. Oh! for a few hours to roam with those we love under these old pines, to listen to the voices of other years, and cull a fragrant wreath of those wild flowers which everywhere strew our path. ”

“ Spring breaks late over the province of Quebec—that portion of America known to our fathers as Lower Canada, and of old to the subjects of the Grand Monarque as the kingdom of New France. But when the young trees begin to open their leafy lids after the long sleep of winter, they do it quickly. The snow is not all gone before the maple trees are all green—the maple, that most beautiful of trees! ”

“ The city is rich in public institutions and in Catholic churches and charities, but it is mainly in the prospect from the site of the Old Government House and from the Citadel, that its surpassing beauty lies. The exquisite expanse of country, rich in field and forest, mountain-heights and water, which lies stretched out before the view, with miles of Canadian villages, glancing in long white streaks, like veins along the landscape; the motley crowd of gables, roofs and chimney tops in the old hilly town immediately at hand; the beautiful St. Lawrence sparkling and flashing in the sunlight ”

“ Is there a town retaining more unmistakable vestiges of its rude beginnings—of its pristine, narrow, Indian-haunted, forest paths?
Our streets and lanes bear witness to our dual origin: Champlain, Richelieu, Buade streets, by their names proclaim the veneration our fathers had for the memory of men who had watched over the infancy of the colony, whilst the mystic, saintly nomenclature of others exhibited the attachment of the early dwellers in Quebec to the hallowed old Roman faith which presided at their natal hour. ”

“ 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. ”

“ Upon our coquettish rivers in Europe they may whisper of loves along their flowery banks and under the vine-clad terraces that overhang them, like the curtains of a saloon; but here, in this grand severity of nature, upon these immense, half desert plains, in the silence of these gloomy forests, on the banks of this majestic river that is ever speeding onward to the eternal ocean, we may feel emotions that are truly sublime. If, in this quiet solitude, should we open the soul to a dream of love, it takes the serious tone ”

“ Every perception of my mind became absorbed into the one sense of seeing, when, upon rounding Point Levis, we cast anchor before Quebec. What a scene! Can the world produce another? Edinburgh had been the beau ideal to me of all that was beautiful in nature—a vision of the Northern Highlands had haunted my dreams across the Atlantic; but all these past recollections faded before the present of Quebec. Nature has ransacked all our grandest elements to form this astonishing panorama. ”

“ Lawrence, the fertile fields dotted with innumerable cottages, the abode of a rich and moral peasantry,—the distant falls of Montmorency,—the park like scenery of Point Levis,—the beauteous Isle of Orleans,—and more distant still, the frowning Cape Tourmente, and the lofty range of purple mountains of the most picturesque form, which, without exaggeration, is scarcely to be surpassed in any part of the world." (Hawkins' Picture of Quebec.) ”

“ Charming was the contrast, furnishing a fresh proof of the comfort and luxury with which the European merchant, once settled in Canada, surrounds his home. What, indeed, can be more gratifying, during the arctic, though healthy, temperature of our winter, than to step from a cosy drawing-room, with its cheerful grate-fire, into a green, floral bower, and inhale the aroma of the orange and the rose, whilst the eye is charmed by the blossoming camellia of virgin whiteness ”

“ Every traveller in Canada, from Baron La Hontan, who "preferred the forests of Canada to the Pyrénées of France," to the Hon. Amelia Murray, Charlevoix, LaGalissonière, Peter Kalm, Isaac Weld, John Lambert, Heriot, Silliman, Dickens, Lever, Ampère, Marmier, Rameau, Augustus Sala, have united in pronouncing our Quebec landscape so wild, so majestic, and withal so captivating, as to vie in beauty with the most picturesque portions of the Old or the New World. ”

“ It was then a splendid old seat of more than one hundred acres, a fit residence for the proudest nobleman England might send us as Viceroy—enclosed east and west between two streamlets, hidden from the highway by a dense growth of oak, maple, dark pines and firs—the forest primeval—letting in here and there the light of heaven on its labyrinthine avenues; a most striking landscape, blending the sombre verdure of its hoary trees with the soft tints of its velvety sloping lawn, fit for a ducal palace. ”

“ Too much has not been said about the scenery of Quebec. The fortifications of Cape Diamond are omnipresent. You travel ten, twenty, thirty miles up or down the river's banks, you ramble fifteen miles among the hills on either side, and then, when you have long since forgotten them, perchance slept on them by the way, at a turn of the road or of your body, there they are still with their geometry against the sky.... ”

“ There are many landscapes which can never be painted, photographed, or described, but which the mind carries away instinctively to look at again and again in the after-time—these are the celebrated views of the world, and they are not easy to find. From the Queen's rampart, on the citadel of Quebec, the eye sweeps over a greater diversity of landscape than is probably to be found in any one spot in the universe. ”

“ One may safely predict that ere many summers go by, our public cemeteries, by their natural beauty, are likely to attract crowds of strangers, as Greenwood and Mount Auburn do in the States. Chaste monumental marbles, on which can be detected the chisel of English, Scotch and Canadian artists, are at present noticeable all over the grounds, tastefully laid out and smiling parterres of annuals and perennials throw a grateful fragrance over the tomb where sleeps mayhap a beloved parent, a kind sister, an affectionate brother, a true friend, a faithful lover. ”

“ But most of all, thy gay and happy inmates, their glad and joyous hearts beating with generous emotions, and their countenances brightened with the welcome smile. Ah! how I seem to hear, as in time past I have heard, their lively prattle, or their merry laugh echoing across the lawn, or through the flower garden, or along the winding paths down the steep slope to the pavilion.
And can it be that I shall never again realize these happy scenes! I would fain hope otherwise; but life is a changeful drama, and time fleeting; this world is not our home. ”