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THE COUNTRYMAN
BY J. A. TURNER.
-“brevity is tiie soul of wit
A YEAR.
VOL. III.
TURNWOLD, PUTNAM COUNTY, GA„ MONDAY, OCTOBER 13, 18621
NO. 3.
On the St. Lawrence River-Montreal.
Wiiat a glorious ride that was on that
grand river, in a splendid steamer, full of
gay company—“ fair women and brave
men !” Georgia musteied strong, as usual.
We had everything to exhilarate and make
us happy, except good dining-room accom
modations, and as we got enough food to
satisfy hunger, we could very well afford
to feed frugally, for a few days, in consid
eration of our pleasant surroundings in al
most every other respect. The trip passed
like a dream, to me ; so much so indeed,
that I have not preserved one single
scratch of a pen as a record of what oc
curred on board. This is the trouble with
me. I ought never to travel with good
company, for, if I do, my poor journal is
sadly neglected. I think so much of en
joyment that I have no time to wiite. On
the contrary, when I go alone, 1 note eve
rything. It is more pleasant to travel with
a party ; but I verily believe it is more
profitable to journey without acquaintances,
save such as may be picked up on the
route; and these in my case are indeed few.
I remember that we were on deck, look
ing at everything that we could See, a great
part of the time, and then we were often
in the saloon, near the piano, at which
some lady of the company would seat her
self—one delivering beautiful operatic airs
and snatches, with the greatest precision
and most faultless execution ; another pour
ing out her rich and powerful voice in floods
of song, or rattling off short, brilliant bijous
from popular composers. Of course there
was that universal accompaniment of eve
ry occasion when the sexes are thrown to
gether, to wit; a vast deal of flirting.
But with that I had and have nothing to
do. In “ shooting the rapids ” I was
good deal interested, and so were the la
dies. To speak the truth concerning the
ladies, they are much more enterprising
and adventurous than men. In traveling,
no feat is too difficult or dangerous for them
to perform. Nothing that is to be seen es
capes them. Going on the table rock, and
behind the sheet of water at Niagara, are
simply examples of what they will
undertake, for the sake of seeing
something new or strange. At the cathe
dral, in Montreal, while some of the gen
tlemen broke down, after going half way
up the tower, the ladies, to a man, climbed
every step to the top, and I actually do
believe they were willing to toil on till
they shQuld drop dead—to die as martyrs
in the sacred cause of—what shall I call
it 1 Some ill-natured people would say,
curiosity, but I choose to consider it a high
ly commendable desiie to obtain useful in
formation.
But how I do digress, in this my 5th
sketch. I must beg pardon of the reader,
and as this is my first offence of the kind,
I hope to obtain ready forgiveness.
There are several rapids in the St. Law
rence—places where the fall is very great,
owing to which, and the fact that there are
many rocks in the river, the navigation is
exceedingly difficult and dangerous. It is
said that no pilots are sufficiently’ well ac
quainted with the channel to take a steam
boat through with safety, except those of
family of half-breed Indians, named
Baptiste. We took one of them on board,
before entering the most dangerous of the
rapids, and then started through. It was
late in the day, and many of us crowded
on the upper-forward deck. Of course the
ladies were present in force. Soon the
boat began to rock, rather unpleasantly,
and the spray flew in our faces. Col. T
rolled about a good deal, and finally turned
to go to bis state-room. “ Don’t leave us
Col.,” said some one. “I’m not frightened
sir,” was the short reply, “ only a little
sea sick”—and the Col. toddled off.
I recolleet very little concerning the
passage of the rapids, and my journal is
entirely silent about them. However, it
appealed fully dangerous enough to be ex
citing, and I knt>w that for some distance,
at one time, I turned frequently to look at
the pilot, and I saw a countenance more
fixed and anxious, than any I ever beheld
before. His lips were parted ; his eye fas
tened on some object in the water before us,
and not till we passed that, did his counte
nance relax, as he drew a deep sigh, and
swallowed a great gulp, in token of relief.
Either the risk was very great, or he was a
consummate actor. Yet I never heard of any
accident occurring here.
But one grows tired, even of St. Lawrence
river ; and so the transfer to St.. Lawrence
Hotel, in Montreal, was vastly agreeable
to all of us. After the scrambles in the
steam-boat eating-saloon, to which we had
been accustomed for several days, to get to
a decent, quiet dining-room, was a relief
indescribable. These sudden changes
and contrasts constitute one of the
chief charms of traveling. However, I
must not go off on another digression.
After supper, we went to the theatre,
and witnessed the performance of Don
Caesar de Bazan—rather poor. But then
the Wept of Wish Ton Wish, was produc
ed as effectively as anything I ever saw on
the stage. No acting could be more affec
ting than that of some scenes in this beau
tiful Indian drama. The play-bills inform
ed us that the principle parts were sustain
ed by “ the star sisters, Lucille and”—the
Vther name is forgotten.
Early next morning, with one male com
panion, I started to drive over the city.
We visited the reservoir, which is filled
with water drawn from the rapids; went
by the priests’ college, and various other
large buildings. We walked through and
inspected some kind of an asylum, in which
were lodged many childien and old people,
among the latter a number of old soldiers
—all supported by’ charity. We also were
allowed to go through the convent of the
gray nuns, and were in the chapel at noon,
when the sisters came in to prayer. I sup
pose there were 30 or 40 of them. Quite
anumberof our party had happened tuineet
in the cool, spacious hall, that constitutes
the chapel, and we sat for some moments,
in perfect silence. Presently we heard a
strange, low muttering, which approached
nearer and nearer, and finally the nuns
came in with a slow, solemn step, repeating
their prayers in a monotonous tone, all pro
nouncing the words together, and keeping
time as in a chant. They knelt, still
speaking the words they had been taught.
I observed them closely, and looked in vain,
for what I expected to see ; the appear
ance of sweet, calm, holy repose, said to
be the reward of those who shut them
selves up from the world as they do. On
the contrary, I imagined that the prevailing
expression of their countenances was dark,
sombre, and cheerless. That phase of Ro
manism made a worse impression on me
than any I had seen.
After the services in the convent-chapel
were over, we went to the cathedral. It
was the largest finished church in America.
1 was very anxious to hear the tones of its
mighty organ, floating through its aisles,
and up to its lofty ceiling, but this was de
nied me, as I could stay in Montreal only
that day. The attendant, as he ushered
us inside the door, took off his hat and sank
his voice to a whisper. My bump of ven-