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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-