CHAPTER V. DOWN TO MONTREAL.
The run down the river to Montreal was made rapidly and withoutincident. The boys found the slow progress they had to make through thecanals adjoining the Lachine and Long Sault rapids, which they could notdescend, rather tedious. Nevertheless, they thoroughly enjoyed watchingone of the red-funneled excursion steamers from up the river shootthrough the boiling waves and cascades, apparently to certaindestruction.
At the Lachine Canal they were "locked down" eighty-two feet, passingthrough three locks in the process. They arrived at Montreal, Canada's"White City," that evening. The next morning they devoted to seeing thesights of the town.
Perhaps some extracts from a letter written some days later by Ralph toa school chum will give our readers a boy's idea of this city and ofQuebec.
"About the first thing we noticed," wrote Ralph, "was the VictoriaBridge, which spans the south channel of the St. Lawrence and carriesthe rails of the Grand Trunk Railway. It is almost two miles long, hastwenty-four spans, and hangs sixty feet above the river. We saw it firstin the twilight. It looked like a black ribbon stretched across the sky.
"Montreal is the queerest city from the point of view of design that Iever saw. It is built up from the river in a series of terraces. It ischock full of fine buildings, as fine and finer than any in New York,but of course not so tall. There is the big cathedral of Notre Dame,with twin towers like the one in France. It has a bell weighing 24,780pounds, the heaviest bell in North America. The church will seat fifteenthousand people.
"The ice cream sodas here are not good. We know, for we sampled them.But I was going to tell you, under Notre Dame Street are buried thebones of Le Rat, a Huron chief, who broke the peace pact between theFrench and his tribe. He fell dead as a door nail while addressing a lotof Hurons and French who had come together to have a pow-wow.
"We didn't spend very much time here, however, being anxious to get onto Quebec. Besides, something happened the other night at the islandthat we are anxious to get back to solve. I can't tell you more about itnow than to say that it was a 'ghost ship'! That sounds promising,doesn't it?
"Now, to tell you something about Quebec. I am mighty glad to have beenthere. It is truly a wonderful city. Somebody told us that it got itsname from Cartier exclaiming, as he saw the three-hundred-foot rock thatrises from the river, '_Que bec!_' Knowing that you are not much of aFrench scholar, I will translate. That means 'What a beak!' And so thatis how Quebec got its name, and, if you'd ever seen it, you would thinkit was a good one.
"I can't describe the city better than to call it a huge cliff all stuckover with spires, roofs, chimneys, ramparts and muzzles of antiquatedguns that a modern piece of artillery could knock into a cocked hat.Cape Diamond, as the immense rock is called, is all tufted with patchesof shrubs. It made me think of Professor Crabtree's face. You know: allhard and rugged, with whiskers scrawling over it!
"The Lower Town, as it is called, lies at the base of this rock. Here isthe water-front section, and streets that turn and twist about likecorkscrews. It is a smoky, ancient, old place full of queer smells andbusiness.
"You get out of it to the Upper Town by Mountain Street, and it's all ofthat! They say that till thirty years ago a carriage couldn't get up it,but it has been graded so that now you can drive up. We walked, thinkingit would be good exercise for Persimmons, who hates walking, anyhow.
"The citadel is a wonderful place perched up on a high rock, and you cansee all over the region from it. One thing to be seen there is a brasscannon the Britishers captured at Bunker Hill. No wonder they're proudof it. I guess it's about all they did get.
"The Citadel runs, in the form of a big granite wall with towers andbastions stuck on it at regular intervals, all along the brow of theheight overlooking the city, like a wrinkle on a forehead. Quebec, asperhaps you know, is the only walled city in America. It certainly is agreat place to see. You might think that you were looking down from theCitadel on some old town in the middles ages--except for the touristswith their cameras!
"We went out to the Plains of Abraham; that is, Persimmons didn't go,having overeaten on some cake he made himself and we wouldn't touch,having sampled his cooking before. This is the place where Wolfe lickedMontcalm. But both their names are carved on a monument just as if theyhad fought side by side.
"In the Post Office, where I am going to mail this letter, there is ablock of granite from an old building that once stood on its site. Itwas called the _Chien d'Or_, or the Golden Dog. There is a storyconnected with Phillibert, the merchant who built it. He came here whenBigot, a 'grafter' or 'boss,' as we should call him nowadays, hadcontrol of the city and of New France. He ran things to suit himself andpocketed all kinds of crooked money. Phillibert ran a sort of departmentstore and fought Bigot all he could. Over the door of his store he hadthe figure of a dog cut. It was gnawing a bone. The dog was meant to beBigot and the bone the country he was 'grafting' on. Bigot got so soreat this that he had his brother-in-law assassinate Phillibert.
"There are more churches here than in any place I ever saw. The folks ofQuebec ought to be the best in the world. Near the market in the LowerTown is one of the first churches built in America. A porch was builtover its door as a token of thanksgiving when a fleet of British shipson its way to wallop Quebec was wrecked off the mouth of the St.Lawrence.
"Near where this church stands is a place where they will tell youChamplain lived in 1608 and planted the first garden in the country withseeds brought from France. In a convent on Garden Street Montcalm isburied. The Canadians have marked all these places with tablets. I thinkit would be a good scheme to do the same thing with historic places athome.
"But you are probably getting tired of all this. Tell the fellows we arehaving a great time and expect to have a better. Anyhow, I will writeyou before long how we come out about that queer motor boat. We aregoing to find out what is up; you can bet your life on that.
"Always your pal, "Ralph."
The Border Boys Along the St. Lawrence Page 6
