[Montreal—Saturday, 29 June 1867]
Saturday. Awoke early in spite of our late arrival last night, for light like molten chrystal came streaming in at our windows, I sprang up with a lively sense of pleasure in this new experience. It was a fête day but not a “fête obligation”—St. Peter & St. Paul were the objects. The bells were ringing most melodiously—files of men were to be seen gliding silently down the streets—we walked out, all the shops were shut but the churches were open and the queer old french architecture, bits of Normandy, as it appeared, the glimpses of gardens & cloisters over high walls brought back, not only Europe, but historic and sad Associations which history keeps carefully guarded for us connected with the French and the growth of the “Holy Catholic Church” in this country. Perhaps Mr Parkman’s many visits to Montreal to visit his relatives here have excited him to write his interesting account. After walking over the town guided by a young bookseller who is evidently one of the “best people” here but one of those who “did not take sides during our war.” We drove to Mr Frothingham’s and saw a charming old fashioned residence redolent of color and moss-roses and hospitality. Here we found Ed. E. Hale & Mr Kidder of Boston who had been to Antioch College and we[re] on their return. We constructed a plan for seeing the Saguenay River in company. Upon our return to the hotel we found Cyrus W. Field of ocean celebrity had arrived with his wife, who is somewhat ill and had called upon us. At night J. went to a superb dinner with Mr F. given by Mr John Rose one of the magnates here while I sat with Mrs Field who told me in return interesting tales from life of two ladies who had at different periods made their escape from the Sisters of the Sacred Heart. The last one was a friend of Miss Jenny Field who had overcome treacherous obstacles by perseverance and daring and carried off her unhappy friend. Also she told me of the life of the Miss Warners (authors of Wide Wide World, Queechy, Hills of the Shatemuc, etc). Their father purchased years ago an island in the Hudson which had been used as barracks for our soldiers during the Revolution, the buildings were still standing—these he made habitable, leaving one small room untouched for curiosity to rejoice over and then he took up his abode with his children. Occasionally they read a book for their friends and take them over to breakfast and there are to be seen the nookeries where the sisters have written their popular books, their pleasant arrangements for their father’s comfort and their little housekeeping arts which they have brought to great perfection, displayed without display; what a home should be, in short, a corner where you can sit down with a friend and understand them without too much talk or any explanations.
