The Backwoods of Canada | Page 6

on the north side the river. My admiration of
mountainous scenery makes me dwell with more interest on this side
the river, and I watch the progress of cultivation along these rugged and
inhospitable regions with positive pleasure.
During the last two days we have been anxiously looking out for a pilot
to take us up to Quebec. Various signals have been fired, but hitherto
without success; no pilot has condescended to visit us, so we are
somewhat in the condition of a stage without a coachman, with only
some inexperienced hand to hold the reins. I already perceive some

manifestations of impatience appearing among us, but no one blames
the captain, who is very anxious about the matter; as the river is full of
rocks and shoals, and presents many difficulties to a person not
intimately acquainted with the navigation. Besides, he is answerable for
the safety of the ship to the underwriters, in case he neglects to take a
pilot on board.
* * * * * * *
While writing above I was roused by a bustle on deck, and going up to
learn the cause was informed that a boat with the long looked-for pilot
had put off from the shore; but, after all the fuss and bustle, it proved
only a French fisherman, with a poor ragged lad, his assistant. The
captain with very little difficulty persuaded Monsieur Paul Breton to
pilot us as far as Green Island, a distance of some hundred miles higher
up the river, where he assured us we should meet with a regular pilot, if
not before.
I have some little difficulty in understanding Monsieur Paul, as he
speaks a peculiar dialect; but he seems good-natured and obliging
enough. He tells us the corn is yet green, hardly in ear, and the summer
fruits not yet ripe, but he says, that at Quebec we shall find apples and
fruit in plenty.
As we advance higher up the river the country on both sides begins to
assume a more genial aspect. Patches of verdure, with white cottages,
are seen on the shores and scattered along the sides of the mountains;
while here and there a village church rears its simple spire,
distinguished above the surroundings buildings by its glittering vane
and bright roof of tin. The southern shores are more populous but less
picturesque than those of the north, but there is enough on either side to
delight the eye.
This morning we anchored of the Isle of Bic, a pretty low island,
covered with trees and looking very pleasant. I felt a longing desire to
set my foot on Canadian ground, and must own I was a little
disappointed when the captain advised me to remain on board, and not
attempt to make one of the party that were preparing to go on shore: my
husband seconded the captain's wish, so I contented myself with
leaning over the ship's side and feasting my eyes on the rich masses of
foliage as they waved to and fro with the slight breeze that agitated
them. I had soon reason to be thankful that I had not followed my own

wayward will, for the afternoon proved foggy, and on the return of the
boat I learned that the ground was swampy just where the party landed,
and they sunk over their ankles in water. They reported the island to be
covered knee-deep with a most luxuriant growth of red clover, tall trees,
low shrubs, and an abundance of wild flowers.
That I might not regret not accompanying him, my husband brought me
a delightful bouquet, which he had selected for me. Among the flowers
were flagrant red roses, resembling those we call Scotch burnet-leaved,
with smooth shining leaves and few if any thorns; the blue flower
called Pulmonaria or Lungwort, which I gathered in the Highlands, a
sweet pea, with red blossoms and wreaths of lovely pale green foliage;
a white orchis, the smell of which was quite delicious. Besides these
were several small white and yellow flowers, with which I was totally
unacquainted. The steward furnished me with a china jar and fresh
water, so that I shall have the pleasure of a nosegay during the rest of
the voyage. The sailors had not forgotten a green bough or two to adorn
the ship, and the bird-cage was soon as bowery as leaves could make it.
Though the weather is now very fine, we make but slow progress; the
provoking wind seems determined to blow from every quarter but the
right. We float up with the flood tide, and when the tide fails cast
anchor, and wait with the best grace we can till it is time to weigh
anchor again. I amuse myself with examining the villages and
settlements through the captain's glass,