Part 2

De Monts and Champlain enter into the history of the province, as do the La Tours, father and son. Annapolis Royal, the old Port Royal of French days, has been the scene of many a conflict in which French, English and New England Colonials took part. The Acadian French were quite numerous here previous to the time of their expulsion. It is a mistake, however, to presume that the whole Acadian interest centres in one part of the Bay of Fundy side of the province. Such is not the case; for Acadian families and villages may be found in many parts of the Maritime Provinces.

The City of Halifax—the Cronstadt of America—has become the Mecca for annual thousands of visitors from all parts of the world. With its quaint and old-time appearance, its military and naval interests, its magnificent situation, its World-Harbor, its picturesque environs, lakes, forests and grand water privileges for yachting and boating, Halifax is unique as a centre of attraction. Moreover, it is the most convenient place from which to start for excursions down the romantic south-shore, as well as for the Annapolis Valley, and for all the great fishing rivers and hunting districts that lie east between the Atlantic and the line of the Intercolonial Railway, and extend as far as Guysboro and the Strait of Canso.

Nor must the beautiful country around Truro, and east and west of it, be forgotten; nor that along the northern water front of the province from Tidnish to Tracadie, with all the restful shore places included in that water-bow.

Nova Scotia is indeed a summer country, _par excellence_. It has splendid woodland and a fine system of rivers and lakes. Go where you will in any part of it and you are never more than thirty miles from the shore. Sea life is, therefore, a prominent feature, and with all the forms of recreation and amusement so bountifully provided, summer days passed in the Atlantic province go all too quickly by.

“There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar.”

Cape Breton was originally called L’Isle Royale by the French in the time of the Grand Monarch, Louis XIV. Its history is an eventful one.

At Louisbourg on the east coast, once known as the Dunkirk of America, titanic conflicts have taken place. Its fortifications erected there in the early part of the eighteenth century, from plans by Vauban the celebrated military engineer, took over twenty years in construction. Citadel, massive stone bastions, a protective moat and huge gun batteries once existed there; and powerful fleets have battled in front of it for New-World supremacy.

As in other parts of the Maritime Provinces, the New England Colonials have left their impress on the history of Cape Breton. Here, too, are many Acadian settlements, made up of the descendants of those who fled from the mainland while this land of refuge was still a French possession.

It would be difficult to find a summer climate more agreeable than that of Cape Breton. The days are bright and sunny, tempered by cool and refreshing sea-breezes. There is no scorching heat at any time, and it affords a delightful contrast with the torrid conditions that prevail in districts a few hundred miles to the south.

It is the land of the mountain and the sea, and has been aptly likened to the Scottish Highlands in its general character.

“Two voices are there—one is of the sea, One of the mountains—each a mighty voice.”

The great salt-water lake known as the Bras d’Or, or ‘Arm of Gold,’ runs through the whole extent of the island, with many ramifications; and it has connection with the Atlantic by two narrow channels. It is almost a ‘tideless ocean,’ for before the water can lower itself to any appreciable extent, the Atlantic low tide has turned and is becoming high again. It is therefore an ideal place for yachting and motor boating; while in the pretty rivers and lagoons are found choice waters for boating and canoeing.

Fine mountain ranges and magnificent scenery make Cape Breton a delightful country for summer pleasures. A drive along the ‘Arm of Gold,’ and in almost any part of the island, is a delightful experience. Baddeck, Whycocomagh, Arichat, Louisbourg, the Sydneys, Ingonish and Mabou, as well as the Margaree and Middle Rivers, are all places of delight for vacationists. Fine forests of oak, birch, maple and ash, with plenty of the woods more commonly seen, are here in great profusion.

A climb up the great height of Old Smoky, the _Cap Enfumé_ of the French, lands one almost in the clouds; and on a clear starlit night when the moon is in the heavens, a view is spread out below that can never be forgotten. The walks and drives in the lovely valleys, with towering mountains ever visible—the white gypsum at their base—a shimmery halo above; they, too, take a deep and fond hold on the memory.

“Why do those cliffs of shadowy tint appear More sweet than all the landscape smiling near? ’Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, And robes the mountain in its azure hue.”

The Intercolonial Railway forms the greater part of the system known as the Canadian Government Railways. With the road known as the Prince Edward Island Railway, together with other shorter branch lines gradually coming under Government control, to their betterment, the whole system gives ready access to all of Central and Eastern Quebec and the Maritime Provinces.

This system may truly be called the fairy godmother of the Maritime Provinces, for with outstretched arm it has placed the five extended fingers of a fostering hand over the important commercial centres of Montreal, Quebec, St. John, Halifax and Sydney, causing them to pulsate with life, and bringing them into intimate relation with the great centres of the sister provinces from Atlantic to Pacific.

Merely to sit in one of the numerous comfortable trains, and observantly tour the main line, is a novel experience, a revelation of beauty and an education in itself; but if to that is added a sojourn in one or more of the localities best suited for the individual preference of the traveller, the result will be satisfactory and exhilarating.

While it is true, in a measure, that almost any part of the Intercolonial summer country will amply satisfy all general requirements for vacation pleasures, it should be remembered that an intelligent choice should be made of a district that is rich in those things essential for the enjoyment of those who intend going there.

To this end the present book has been written. It will be found accurate and reliable; and a careful perusal of its contents will give full information on all points of interest. Through its pages are distributed Indian legends, Acadian tales, and stories of hunting, fishing, boating, canoeing, and camp, tent and bungalow life, etc., embodied in the description of the districts to which such incidents properly belong. The natural history, or nature-interest, in animal, bird, fish and wild-flower life is a feature of the book that must give pleasure to those who go to a country like that described to enjoy life in the open.

A comprehensive index is also provided of events, subjects, districts, places, persons and things. When the reader has completed the first reading of the book, this index will afford ready means for turning to those subjects that linger in the memory, that enlighten travel and that enhance the pleasure of it; while as a practical and every-day guide for things it is necessary to know, the same index is sure to be helpful in looking up all necessary information from time to time.

Swinging through the forests, Rattling over ridges, Shooting under arches Rumbling over bridges, Whizzing through the mountains Buzzing o’er the vale,— Bless me! this is pleasant Riding on the rail!

_Historic Quebec_

It is undoubtedly best to approach Quebec by way of the south shore; the city, as is generally known, being on the north side of the St. Lawrence. Whether coming from Montreal and the south-west, or St. John, Halifax and the east, the Intercolonial Railway brings the traveller to the most convenient point, Lévis, immediately opposite Quebec.

Here, taking one of the ferries, and with a seat under the awning of the upper deck, a splendid view is had of the further shore as the steamer makes its way across the river. No need to ask, “What place is this?” or “Is this Quebec?” Such a question would be absurd, for here in all its grandeur is the great St. Lawrence River, there clusters Quebec around the grim old rock, and yonder, high up, where proudly floats the flag of empire in the active breeze, is the King’s Bastion, with the old citadel, the Château Frontenac and all the spires, peaks and towers that make this place like an ancient picture from the Old World.

What a delightful experience it is to look upon sights and scenes that are novel and beautiful, full of charming local color, and permeated with that atmosphere of grandeur and power that quickens the pulse and causes the thrill of emotion to telegraph its way through the nerve centres. As soon as Quebec is approached it becomes immediately apparent that it is rich in all those things that excite human interest; and if the opinion of others is needed, the testimony of that galaxy of the great, famous in geography, literature, science and art—that long procession of renowned men and women that has taken its way hither in unbroken pilgrimage through the past centuries—is all based on the one majestic keynote of wonder, admiration, reverence and love for all that Quebec typifies for the people of two hemispheres.

How pleasant to sit and view the magnificent prospect up and down the noble river, and see the great mountains that tower and then disappear in the distant blue haze. What glorious clouds; and what beautiful effects of light and shade the bright sun paints on the broad outspread canvas of nature that surrounds us! It needs but the sight of Quebec in its grand setting of striking beauty and the simple melodies of the people heard from violins and harp amidships, to transport the mind in a delightful reverie of the past.

In fancy we see the Henrys, the Edwards, Good ‘Queen Bess,’ James, poor Charles, the sturdy Lord Protector, Cromwell, and all the long line of crowned heads whose history is woven in with that of Eastern Canada. And then the French King Francis, the two _Henri_, and the four _Louis_, with Champlain, Jacques Cartier and Frontenac; the noble missionaries who came here to teach the savage Indians—murdered, or burnt at the stake for their devotion; the great captains, including England’s Nelson, the brave soldiers down to Wolfe and Montcalm, and since; the Norman and Basque peasant settlers, the _coureurs du bois_, the buccaneers, privateers and adventurers; all these have figured in Quebec’s remarkable history.

A bump at the landing dock recalls us to the present, and as we step ashore it is with reverence akin to that which we feel when standing under the towering Norman greatness of Durham Cathedral, or when in the sacred precincts of Westminster Abbey where lie buried the genius and achievement of centuries.

And now Quebec is reached, and some of the things that will ever be in mind after this memorable visit are now before us; and weeks of happy experiences are about to unfold their treasure to our admiring gaze.

There is no better way of understanding and appreciating what the old city holds in store than that of first rambling about in every direction on foot. With occasional car trips and with a drive now and again in a _caleche_, the plan of the city and its environs becomes gradually clear. The sight of the quaint streets and of the many old features that are so novel on the new continent will be enjoyed because seen without guide or premeditation. The process known to our English cousins as ‘knocking about,’ which is to saunter where you will, on foot and without haste, is the best way in Old Quebec. It is on foot that terrestrial things are seen intimately, and when we have made a dozen ‘rounds’ of the lower town, walked along the ramparts again and again, rambled in the citadel, promenaded on Dufferin Terrace, quenched our thirst at the Frontenac, climbed the glacis, walked the parapets, viewed the majestic scene from the King’s Bastion, sauntered over the Plains of Abraham, and circled the city until every spot is known; then, and not until then, shall we drink in enough of the atmosphere, and be in a condition to take an intelligent view of all that surrounds us, awaiting the keen examination that cannot be made in a hasty or superficial manner.

Of the general appearance of Quebec it will be enough to quote from the words of three of its famous visitors. Thoreau wrote: “I rubbed my eyes to be sure I was in the nineteenth century.” Dickens recorded: “The impression made upon the visitor by this Gibraltar of America, its giddy heights, its citadel suspended, as it were, in the air; its picturesque, steep streets and frowning gateways; and the splendid views which burst upon the eye at every turn, is at once unique and lasting;” while Henry Ward Beecher set down these as his impressions: “Curious, old Quebec!...... of all the cities on the continent of America, the quaintest...... We rode about as if we were in a picture book, turning over a new leaf at each street!”

A brief survey of the history of New France, or Eastern Canada, is a necessary preliminary for the full enjoyment of all those things for which Quebec is famed.

Commissioned by Henry VII. of England, Cabot sailed west in search of a route to China and India, and discovered America. This new land he set down as the coast of China. The discovery was not immediately followed up by further exploration or settlement, and not until the year 1534 did Jacques Cartier, the St. Malo navigator, make a voyage of discovery for the French sovereign Francis I. The intrepid sailor succeeded in reaching the western continent, or New France, and landed at Gaspé, where he erected a cross with an inscription on it claiming the country for the King of France.

Winter approaching, he made his way home again. Before leaving he had entrapped two natives, and these he took with him as evidence of his success.

In the year 1535 Cartier made a second western voyage, and this time he sailed up the great river which he named the St. Lawrence. At that time the fish were so plentiful that the progress of the little flotilla of three tiny ships was often greatly impeded. Bears, also, were very numerous, and quite expert in catching the fish for their food. It was a common sight to see Bruin plunge into the water, fasten his claws in a great fish and drag it ashore.

The native Indians were also seen, in canoes, hunting seals and catching white whales. Alarmed by the approach of the strange men in their marvellous vessels, the savages paddled off with haste; but on being addressed in their own tongue by the two returned captives on Cartier’s vessel, they abandoned their flight and returned to gaze with astonishment and child-like wonder at all they saw.

Cartier was informed of the existence of an Indian village of considerable size at Stadacona, quite near to Quebeio or Quelibec, and there he met the great chief Donnacona, the ‘Lord of Canada.’

There is no complete agreement on the origin and meaning of the name ‘Quebec.’ Some have traced its derivation from the word ‘Kepek,’ the aboriginal equivalent for ‘come ashore,’ supposed to have been addressed to Jacques Cartier when he hove-to near Stadacona. Others have surmised that it sprang from the exclamation of a Norman sailor on first seeing the great cape—“Quelbec!” (“What a cape!”) Again, the Abenaquis word ‘Quelibec,’ meaning ‘narrowing’ or ‘closed,’ is supposed to be the real derivation; while a very strong claimant for recognition is the Indian word ‘Kebeque,’ which means ‘a narrowing of the waters.’

Learning of another large native village on the St. Lawrence, a considerable distance above Stadacona, Jacques Cartier determined to proceed there with one of his vessels. The chief Donnacona, a shrewd old savage, did not favor further penetration of his domains, and calling to his aid some of his tribe dressed as ‘devils,’ he hoped to frighten the bold navigator with the frightful whoopings and noisy invocation to the demons who were supposed to inhabit the forests.

Cartier pushed on, however, and leaving his vessel near the place now known as St. Maurice, and proceeding in the ship’s boats, reached Hochelaga, the site of the present Montreal. The village was circular in form, with a strong palisade surrounding it. The one entrance was well guarded by removable barriers, and platforms were erected inside from which stones could be showered on possible assailants. The square or assembly-ground was in the centre, having grouped around it the birch-bark wigwams or houses. Their weapons and implements were of rock, and their simple life was communal.

The impression made by the advent of the white-faced men from another land had a pathetic side; for the diseased and blind were carried out from their rude shelters in order that the great White Chief should cure their infirmities by the ‘laying on of hands.’ But alas! the white man was not divine—and the poor Indians were consoled by presents of hatchets, knives and beads, etc., followed by the thrilling sound of a ‘flourish of trumpets.’

During Cartier’s absence a fort and winter camp had been constructed at Stadacona by his men, the site of which may be seen on the River St. Charles. Cartier gave the name of Mount Royal to the mountain overlooking Hochelaga village, and this name has survived in the Montreal of Canada’s commercial capital.

Early next Spring Cartier, and all the remnant of his band that survived after a severe attack of scurvy, sailed for France. A serious blemish in Cartier’s character is shown by the record of his having carried off by force—torn from their homes and country—poor old Donnacona, ‘Lord of Canada,’ and other chiefs. They died in captivity, far from their kin, and with the sad memory of their great river and noble forests ever with them to the end.

Cartier returned to New France a third time after some five years; but the seed of distrust was sown in the minds of the natives by the absence of their stolen chiefs, and it was not long before the fruit of hatred and strife developed and gradually grew until it steeped the country in continual war and bloodshed. Cartier again set out to proceed up the river to Hochelaga, but finding the natives had been warned and were becoming hostile he turned back to Stadacona. He eventually returned with Roberval to France, and died in his native St. Malo about the middle of the sixteenth century.

It is interesting to learn that Roberval’s titles were Viceroy and Lieutenant-General of Canada, Hochelaga, Saguenay, Newfoundland, Belleisle, Labrador and Baccalaos.

France was now seeing stormy times in her home affairs, and no well-directed effort was made to follow up Cartier’s work—although other explorers and fur-traders crossed the stormy seas in their endeavor to make a settlement in the New World.

1. Montmorency Falls 2. City Hall Park 3. Chateau Frontenac 4. Government House, Spencer Wood 5. Boating on the Lorette 6. Upper Fall, Montmorency

At last the brave and capable Champlain sailed from Harfleur in 1608, and reached Stadacona or Kebec in safety. Here at the foot of the rock where the quaint street Sous le Fort has since been made, a settlement was laid out which Champlain called ‘l’Abitation de Kébec,’ and which consisted of three lodgings and a store-house, all fenced in and surrounded by a ditch.

Champlain made several trips to France, each time bringing back missionary-priests and settlers. He built, a fort on the height above his ‘Abitation,’ on the spot where his statue has since been erected. The little colony commenced to grow, and soon numbered some fifty people. And now began the troubles that were to shake the infant settlement, rumblings of more desperate encounters, for a hostile British fleet arrived, and Quebec was compelled to capitulate. Champlain again sailed for France, where he remained until Charles I. of England gave back Quebec to King Louis.

The founder of Quebec at last, returned to the beloved home of his adoption, where the work of building had to be done a second time—fire having destroyed both ‘Abitation’ and fort, as well as other buildings. With energy and skill, supported in the main by the love and esteem of his fellow colonizers, Champlain toiled on; his noble character showing in all he did. To keep on good terms with the neighboring Algonquins and Hurons he took part in their struggles with the fierce Iroquois, and penetrated inland as far as the Georgian Bay and southern shore of Lake Ontario. The greatest vigilance was now more than ever necessary, for the savage Iroquois crossed the great lakes in their war canoes, came down the St. Lawrence and lurked in the woods, ever ready to cut off and scalp the French when found in small numbers. In addition, the inexperienced Colonists were quite unprepared for the severe winters, and they were often on the verge of starvation.

Other serious troubles came. The British appeared in naval force, and again Quebec capitulated—Champlain being taken to England as a prisoner of war.

The political kaleidoscope now took another turn, and Quebec was once more given back to France by Charles I. of England.

For the last time Champlain again returned to Quebec, this time as governor, and his customary energy was shown in all that related to the welfare of the colony. In the fulness of time, rewarded by the success of his labors and beloved by his fellows, the great man breathed his last. He is justly considered to have been the ablest and best of all the early explorers and governors.

The new governor Montmagny was a worthy and capable man. He greatly improved Quebec and commenced the stone construction of Fort Saint-Louis. It is interesting to note that during his incumbency the Jesuits built their college. It was commenced in the year 1638, which makes it the oldest institution of learning in North America, antedating Harvard College by one year. A few years after this the Château Saint-Louis was built within the walls of the fort.

Frontenac next ruled the destinies of Quebec with a firm hand. Excepting Champlain he was perhaps the ablest governor, although his character was marred by arrogance and sell-will. He, perhaps better than any, understood how to hold the Indians in check. The brave d’Ibberville ably seconded the aggressive governor during his second term of office—recalled to stem the victories of the Iroquois and to repel the threatened attack on Quebec by a British fleet. This fleet arrived and anchored off the Isle of Orleans. To the haughty summons from Admiral Phipps, to surrender within an hour, came the proud reply of Frontenac, “It is through the mouth of my guns that your general will hear my reply.” The attack was a failure—so well did the guns talk. After that the able Frontenac strengthened the defences of Fort Saint-Louis to such an extent as to convert it into a real citadel.