Beauties of the StLawrence . s sacred grotto, its air of is a rough but sublime grandeur about the place. Nowhereelse could we meet with a more variegated landscape, bluer hills,greener woods, neater cottages, brighter skies and purer waters thanat Beaupre. But time, tide and steamboats wait for nobody, and we glidepast this most fascinating resort. Still moving downward we passGrosse Isle. As one gazes upon that speck of green in the pur-ple scarf of the St. Lawrence, the memories of 47 and 48 that spot hung the scarlet bird of fever, and beneath theshadow of its win
Beauties of the StLawrence . s sacred grotto, its air of is a rough but sublime grandeur about the place. Nowhereelse could we meet with a more variegated landscape, bluer hills,greener woods, neater cottages, brighter skies and purer waters thanat Beaupre. But time, tide and steamboats wait for nobody, and we glidepast this most fascinating resort. Still moving downward we passGrosse Isle. As one gazes upon that speck of green in the pur-ple scarf of the St. Lawrence, the memories of 47 and 48 that spot hung the scarlet bird of fever, and beneath theshadow of its wing thousands of emigrants perished. Theisland, so far, is their only monument, but some day a cairnmay rise over their commingled dust to mark how far theycame from home to only find a grave. It is evening when we reach thatbeautiful summer resort Riviere duLoup, five miles from the famedwatering place, Cacouna, the New-port of Canada. Across the river, V \ twenty odd miles, we steer towardsthe little town of Tadousac, at the. mouth of the Saguenay. It is anancient village where stands thefirst church ever built in weird memories and ghost-ly phantoms arise as one entersthat little church, where the firstgrand prayers were offered up, andwhere the children of the forest-primeval first learned to chantthose hymns wherewith David oncemade melody amongst the hills ofZion. At half-past eight we returnto the steamer and she prepares toface the mysteries of the world-famed Saguenay. ON A COUNTRY ROAD. 20 The Richelieu & Ontario Navigatio?i Company s We move slowly out from the wharf, round a cape and thenenter, as it were, the jaws of death. We fairly plunge into acavern of darkness. The sound of the engine, the numberless echoeson all sides, the awful height of the rocks, the very blackness ahead,all combine to render the first moments fearful. Suddenly, wherethe rocks are farther apart, a flood of moonlight falls upon the watersahead. Like a silver mirror set in a frame
Size: 1168px × 2140px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookidbeautiesofst, bookyear1893
