Le Chien dOr | Page 5

heart and a graceful mind in a body
low of stature, and marked by a slight deformity. His piercing eyes,
luminous with intelligence and full of sympathy for everything noble
and elevated, overpowered with their fascination the blemishes that a
too curious scrutiny might discover upon his figure; while his mobile,
handsome lips poured out the natural eloquence of clear thoughts and
noble sentiments. The Count grew great while speaking: his listeners
were carried away by the magic of his voice and the clearness of his
intellect.
He was very happy this morning by the side of his old friend, Peter
Kalm, who was paying him a most welcome visit in New France. They
had been fellow-students, both at Upsal and at Paris, and loved each
other with a cordiality that, like good wine, grew richer and more
generous with age.
Herr Kalm, stretching out his arms as if to embrace the lovely
landscape and clasp it to his bosom, exclaimed with fresh enthusiasm,
"See Quebec, and live forever!"
"Dear Kalm," said the Governor, catching the fervor of his friend, as he
rested his hand affectionately on his shoulder, "you are as true a lover
of nature as when we sat together at the feet of Linnaeus, our glorious
young master, and heard him open up for us the arcana of God's works;

and we used to feel like him, too, when he thanked God for permitting
him to look into his treasure-house and see the precious things of
creation which he had made."
"Till men see Quebec," replied Kalm, "they will not fully realize the
meaning of the term, 'God's footstool.' It is a land worth living for!"
"Not only a land to live for, but a land to die for, and happy the man
who dies for it! Confess, Kalm,--thou who hast travelled in all
lands,--think'st thou not it is indeed worthy of its proud title of New
France?"
"It is indeed worthy," replied Kalm; "I see here a scion of the old oak of
the Gauls, which, if let grow, will shelter the throne of France itself in
an empire wider than Caesar wrested from Ambiotrix."
"Yes," replied the Count, kindling at the words of his friend, "it is old
France transplanted, transfigured, and glorified,--where her language,
religion, and laws shall be handed down to her posterity, the glory of
North America as the mother-land is the glory of Europe!"
The enthusiastic Galissonière stretched out his hands and implored a
blessing upon the land entrusted to his keeping.
It was a glorious morning. The sun had just risen over the hilltops of
Lauzon, throwing aside his drapery of gold, purple, and crimson. The
soft haze of the summer morning was floating away into nothingness,
leaving every object fresh with dew and magnified in the limpid purity
of the air.
The broad St. Lawrence, far beneath their feet, was still partially veiled
in a thin blue mist, pierced here and there by the tall mast of a King's
ship or merchantman lying unseen at anchor; or, as the fog rolled
slowly off, a swift canoe might be seen shooting out into a streak of
sunshine, with the first news of the morning from the south shore.
Behind the Count and his companions rose the white glistening walls of
the Hôtel Dieu, and farther off the tall tower of the newly- restored

Cathedral, the belfry of the Recollets, and the roofs of the ancient
College of the Jesuits. An avenue of old oaks and maples shaded the
walk, and in the branches of the trees a swarm of birds fluttered and
sang, as if in rivalry with the gay French talk and laughter of the group
of officers, who waited the return of the Governor from the bastion
where he stood, showing the glories of Quebec to his friend.
The walls of the city ran along the edge of the cliff upwards as they
approached the broad gallery and massive front of the Castle of St.
Louis, and ascending the green slope of the broad glacis, culminated in
the lofty citadel, where, streaming in the morning breeze, radiant in the
sunshine, and alone in the blue sky, waved the white banner of France,
the sight of which sent a thrill of joy and pride into the hearts of her
faithful subjects in the New World.
The broad bay lay before them, round as a shield, and glittering like a
mirror as the mist blew off its surface. Behind the sunny slopes of
Orleans, which the river encircled in its arms like a giant lover his fair
mistress, rose the bold, dark crests of the Laurentides, lifting their bare
summits far away along the course of the ancient river, leaving
imagination to wander over the wild scenery in their midst--the woods,
glens,