Marie Gourdon

Marie Gourdon

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Title: Marie Gourdon A Romance of the Lower St. Lawrence
Author: Maud Ogilvy

Release Date: March 18, 2006 [eBook #18010]
Language: English
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MARIE GOURDON:
A Romance of the Lower St. Lawrence.
by
MAUD OGILVY

Montreal: Published by John Lovell & Son 1890

TO MY FRIEND Lady Helen Munro-Ferguson of Raith, THIS
LITTLE STORY IS DEDICATED IN REMEMBRANCE OF Many
happy days spent on the banks of the Lower St. Lawrence.

INTRODUCTION
This little story is founded on an episode in Canadian history which I
found an interesting study, namely, the disbanding of a regiment of
Scottish soldiers in the neighborhood of Rimouski and the district about
Father Point. Many of these stalwart sons of old Scotia who were thus
left adrift strangers in a strange land accepted the situation
philosophically, intermarried amongst the French families already in
that part of the country, and settled down as farmers in a small way. A
visit to that part of the country will show what their industry has
effected.
Before having been in the district, I had always thought that the coasts
of Lower St. Lawrence were almost incapable of any degree of
cultivation, and practically of no agricultural value; but when at Father

Point, some three summers ago, I was delighted to see all along the
sandy road-sides long ridges of ploughed land, with potatoes, cabbages
and beans growing in abundance. Back of these ridges, extending for
many miles, are large tracts of most luxuriant pasture land on which
browse cattle in very excellent condition.
The manners of the people of this district, who, "far from the madding
crowd's ignoble strife," live in Utopian simplicity, are most gentle and
courteous, and would put to shame those of the dwellers of many a
more civilized spot.
It is very curious to trace the Scottish names of these people, handed
down as they have been from generation to generation, though their
pronunciation is much altered, and in most instances given a French
turn, as, for example, Gourdon for Gordon, Noël for Nowell, and many
others. However, in a few cases the names are such as even the most
ingenious French tongue finds impossible to alter, and they remain in
their original form, for example, Burns, Fraser and McAllister. It is
strange to hear these names spoken by people who know no language
but the French, and I was much struck by the incongruity.
M. O. Montreal, June, 1890.

CONTENTS.
Introduction
I--"Wae's me for Prince Chairlie"
II--"Oh! Canada! mon pays, terre adorée, Sol si cher à mes amours."
III--"Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne t'oublierai."
IV--"Red o'er the forest peers the setting sun, The line of yellow light
dies fast away."
V--"A parish priest was of the pilgrim train; An awful, reverend and

religious man. His eyes diffused a venerable grace, And charity itself
was in his face. Rich was his soul, though his attire was poor (As God
hath clothed his own ambassador), For such, on earth, his bless'd
Redeemer bore."
VI--"The love of money is the root of all evil."
VII--"Oh! world! thy slippery turns! Friends now fast sworn in love
inseparable shall within this hour break out to bitterest enmity."
VIII--TEN YEARS AFTER. "Oh! wouldst thou set thy rank before
thyself? Wouldst thou be honored for thyself or that? Rank that excels
the wearer doth degrade, Riches impoverish that divide respect."
IX--"Alas! Our memories may retrace Each circumstance of time and
place; Season and scene come back again, And outward things
unchanged remain: The rest we cannot reinstate: Ourselves we cannot
re-create, Nor get our souls to the same key Of the remember'd
harmony."
X--"O! primavera gioventù dell' anno! O! gioventù primavera della
vitæ!!!"
XI--"Because thou hast believed the wheels of life Stand never idle, but
go always round; Hast labor'd, but with purpose; hast become
Laborious, persevering, serious, firm-- For this thy track across the
fretful foam Of vehement actions without scope or term, Call'd history,
keeps a splendor, due to wit, Which saw one clue to life and followed
it."
XII--"I know, dear heart! that in our lot May mingle tears and