Adventures of an Angler in Canada, Nova Scotia and the United States by Charles Lanman

Author:Charles Lanman [Lanman, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anboco
Published: 2017-01-09T23:00:00+00:00

FALLS OF MONTMORENCY.

Quebec, upon the whole, is a remarkable place, and well worth visiting. The environs of the city are also interesting, and a ride to the Falls of Montmorency, seven miles down the river, and back again by an interior road, will abundantly repay the tourist for all the trouble and expense to which he may be subjected.

CHAPTER XII.

A sail down the St. Lawrence—Sword-Fish—Chasing a Whale.

Tadousac. June.

I have not visited Canada for the purpose of examining her cities, and studying the character of her people, but solely with a view of hunting up some new scenery, and having a little sport in the way of salmon fishing. I am writing this chapter at the mouth of probably the most remarkable river in North America. But, before entering upon a description of my sojourn here, it is meet, I ween, that I should record an account of my journey down the St. Lawrence.

On reaching Quebec, I was informed that there was no regular mode of conveyance down the great river, and that I should have to take passage in a transient ship or schooner, which would land me at my desired haven. This intelligence had a tendency to damp my spirits, and I had to content myself by sauntering about the Citadel-city. Among the places I visited was the fish market, where it was my good fortune to find a small smack, which had brought a load of fresh salmon to market, and was on the point of returning to the Saguenay for another cargo. In less than thirty minutes after I first saw him, I had struck a bargain with the skipper, transferred my luggage on board the smack, and was on my way to a region which was to me unknown.

We hoisted sail at twelve o’clock, and were favoured by a stiff westerly breeze. Everything, in fact, connected with the voyage was beautifully accidental, and I had a “glorious time.” In the first place, our craft was just the thing—schooner-rigged, a fast sailer, and perfectly safe. The skipper, named Belland, was a warm-hearted and intelligent Frenchman, whose entire crew consisted of one boy. The day was superb, and the scenery of the river appeared to me more like the work of enchantment than nature.

The appearance of Quebec, from the eastward, is imposing in the extreme. Standing as it does upon a lofty bluff, its massive ramparts, and tin-covered roofs, domes, and cupolas, suggest the idea of immense power and opulence. Just below the city, the St. Lawrence spreads out to the width of thre e or four miles, while from the margin of either shore fade away a continued succession of hills, which vary from five hundred to fifteen hundred feet in height. Those upon the north shore are the highest, and both sides of the river, for a distance of some twenty miles below the city, are plentifully sprinkled with the white cottages of the Canadian peasantry. As you proceed, however, the river gradually widens, the hills

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