and unknown lakes and rivers that lay hid far from human ken,
or known only to rude savages, wild as the beasts of chase they hunted
in those strange regions.
Across the broad valley of the St. Charles, covered with green fields
and ripening harvests, and dotted with quaint old homesteads, redolent
with memories of Normandy and Brittany, rose a long mountain ridge
covered with primeval woods, on the slope of which rose the glittering
spire of Charlebourg, once a dangerous outpost of civilization. The
pastoral Lairet was seen mingling its waters with the St. Charles in a
little bay that preserves the name of Jacques Cartier, who with his
hardy companions spent their first winter in Canada on this spot, the
guests of the hospitable Donacana, lord of Quebec and of all the lands
seen from its lofty cape.
Directly beneath the feet of the Governor, on a broad strip of land that
lay between the beach and the precipice, stood the many-gabled Palace
of the Intendant, the most magnificent structure in New France. Its long
front of eight hundred feet overlooked the royal terraces and gardens,
and beyond these the quays and magazines, where lay the ships of
Bordeaux, St. Malo, and Havre, unloading the merchandise and
luxuries of France in exchange for the more rude, but not less valuable,
products of the Colony.
Between the Palace and the Basse Ville the waves at high tide washed
over a shingly beach where there were already the beginnings of a
street. A few rude inns displayed the sign of the fleur-de-lis or the
imposing head of Louis XV. Round the doors of these inns in
summer-time might always be found groups of loquacious Breton and
Norman sailors in red caps and sashes, voyageurs and canoemen from
the far West in half Indian costume, drinking Gascon wine and Norman
cider, or the still more potent liquors filled with the fires of the Antilles.
The Batture kindled into life on the arrival of the fleet from home, and
in the evenings of summer, as the sun set behind the Côte à Bonhomme,
the natural magnetism of companionship drew the lasses of Quebec
down to the beach, where, amid old refrains of French ditties and the
music of violins and tambours de Basque, they danced on the green
with the jovial sailors who brought news from the old land beyond the
Atlantic.
"Pardon me, gentlemen, for keeping you waiting," said the Governor,
as he descended from the bastion and rejoined his suite. "I am so proud
of our beautiful Quebec that I can scarcely stop showing off its charms
to my friend Herr Kalm, who knows so well how to appreciate them.
But," continued he, looking round admiringly on the bands of citizens
and habitans who were at work strengthening every weak point in the
fortifications, "my brave Canadians are busy as beavers on their dam.
They are determined to keep the saucy English out of Quebec. They
deserve to have the beaver for their crest, industrious fellows that they
are! I am sorry I kept you waiting, however."
"We can never count the moments lost which your Excellency gives to
the survey of our fair land," replied the Bishop, a grave, earnest-
looking man. "Would that His Majesty himself could stand on these
walls and see with his own eyes, as you do, this splendid patrimony of
the crown of France. He would not dream of bartering it away in
exchange for petty ends and corners of Germany and Flanders, as is
rumored, my Lord."
"True words and good, my Lord Bishop," replied the Governor; "the
retention of all Flanders now in the strong hands of the Marshal de
Saxe would be a poor compensation for the surrender of a glorious land
like this to the English."
Flying rumors of some such proposal on the part of France had reached
the Colony, with wild reports arising out of the endless chaffering
between the negotiators for peace, who had already assembled at Aix la
Chapelle. "The fate of America will one day be decided here,"
continued the Governor; "I see it written upon this rock, 'Whoever rules
Quebec will sway the destinies of the continent.' May our noble France
be wise, and understand in time the signs of empire and of supremacy!"
The Bishop looked upwards with a sigh. "Our noble France has not yet
read those tokens, or she misunderstands them. Oh, these faithful
subjects of hers! Look at them, your Excellency." The Bishop pointed
toward the crowd of citizens hard at work on the walls. "There is not a
man of them but is ready to risk life and fortune for the honor and
dominion of France, and yet they are treated by the Court with such
neglect, and burdened with exactions
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