[Quebec—Thursday, 4 July 1867]
Thursday morning at 7. we came into Quebec. It was raining fast as the boat drew near the wharf—all the magic splendour and glow of that other city we had called Quebec as we came down had vanished. How true there is but one moment in our lives for each experience—we can repeat nothing.
We felt very sorry to have our friends Mr Kidder & Mr Hale take leave of us there—but as they could not see the city in the rain they concluded to take the train to Montreal—somehow I did not believe in these adieus & said so—fancy the amusement & pleasure of all therefore, when, just as we were ensconced at the comfortable breakfast table of the St. Louis Hotel, they came in saying the train had left two hours previously. I believe we were all equally glad since we could not be at home for here was the 4th of July (91st year) and we could celebrate it, although in the land of strangers, together. Drove to the falls of Montmorenci [sic, for Montmorency] in the soft rain. The farms of French Canadians lined the roadside, some with thatched roof, all of broken stone sealed with mortar, the farms looked thrifty, picturesque, peasant-like and as different as possible from those of a New England farmer. It is more like Normandy we say often. The women working in the fields with their broad hats, the men going about in a kind of high leathern moccasin which they make themselves in the winter evenings. On our way we passed a house looking no better than most of the peasant houses, but with the American flag hanging over the doorway. We cheered lustily and waved handkerchiefs & flowers but proceeded to see the falls which are glorious indeed. We observed a point of land at the foot of the falls covered with enormous quantities of timber, planks, logs, and in every condition of preparation for transportation. The amount of it occasioned our wonder even in this well-timbered country. On our return we stopped at the house where we saw the flag, the gentlemen sprang out of the carriage and found themselves welcomed most warmly by four charming ladies “from the States.” It seems the husband of one of them was carrying on the trade in lumber and for this reason had brought his family for a time into the wilderness; the other ladies had come to visit them and were making preparation for a fourth of July celebration. Unfortunately there is hardly one loyal American, not even the consul, upon whom they can call for sympathy, so they were especially cheered by our visit. There was a piano in one corner of the room which, though large, was otherwise quite bare and Hail Columbia, & Red White & Blue were sung with great applause. They had obtained some flags with great difficulty but with these and quantities of evergreen the place was beginning to assume a festive and patriotic appearance. We had a half hour of real enthousiasm which the ladies carried off bravely considering that we caught them in undress, even their hair being in that state of preparation for being dressed wh. is the most unbecoming of conditions; but they were pretty & hospitable and we were grateful.
Returning to the hotel we took a jolly dinner together with a bottle of champagne in which to pledge ourselves to the Republic—etc: etc: then our friends returned to Quebec and we explored the citadel in the afternoon sunshine which was just breaking through the clouds. The peaceful light, the quiet of the place, broken only by the entrance of a milk-cart, contrasted strongly with the stern walls, the guns & balls, the sentries and flashing bayonets. The clover was high and fragrant undulating like the sea over the Plains of Abraham—where children were at play. As we leaned with lazy elbows on the ramparts and revolved the fact of days and weeks and months and years of human life, wasting and suffering from slow decay while pacing up and down these moss-grown or snow covered walls as the season might be, the orderly who had been detailed to accompany us said—“Sad event here last week, sir.” Ah? we replied. “A soldier shot himself, Sir! He was on duty from two oclock until 4—and they never found it out till they went to relieve guard. He was in my company Sir, and he had never heard a word from his folks since he enlisted about six months ago and he couldn't stand it. You see Sir, when ever we were enlisted we can’t get away for ten years.” “How did you come to enlist” we said. “Because I was young and foolish and did not know what the service was, but my term is up in two years now and I mean to go to the States. We most of us goes to the States, Sir, as soon as our time is up now.”
We turned aside from the lovely view and from the citadel feeling as if it were a prison where men lived in slow decay. I do not wonder the people here go to the States—indeed there seems to be a steady tide of emigration and without the Canadas are annexed before too long they will be almost depopulated. The only people who do not seem to be gathering up their packs are the French Canadians and the upper English class who are in some way connected with the government or politics.
The price of everything in Quebec is wonderfully small; if we had had opportunity we could have purchased many things at one third the value of the same in Boston. As we are we only had time to purchase a few crackers and a package of sweets for the child.
We missed our pleasant companions when at 7 in the evening we left for Gorham. But our seats fell next to a Mr & Mrs Weddell of Poughkeepsie N.Y. who had been on our route two or three days. Mrs W’s brother married a sister of James Parton so she has interested deeply in telling us of his labours and sorrows. It seems his wife is a continual torment to him. Twice he has separated himself from her but she pursues him continually and will let him have no peace. She is wasteful of money too so he is always poor tho’ working like a galley-slave. What a sad story!
Night on the railroad train, can anything be more dismal—sleeping cars so dirty and close that we prefer the others,—snatches of sleep between stopping and going and engine screams, some snatches of excellent length—about 2 we get up and change cars, wait in a cold station, the fog from the river enveloping everything. Catch a glimpse of a party of Quakers, women trying to sleep and keep their caps clean—two western people, one with an attack of “chills“ in search of a cup of tea, two queer old Scotch people—peasants from Canada somewhere, perhaps Glengarry—the man making up the most extraordinary faces as he meditated or slept and the woman with an enormous bonnet of at least ten years ago but with a perfectly placid face.
At last about 9 o clk came to Gorham. The air was fresh and inspiring as if we were drinking nectar and the place a delicious haven after wandering—not that the hotel stands so well but the scenery which is accessible from Gorham is more untamed than any other part of the mountains—curiously enough two sisters of Gov. Andrew live here all the year round, one of them being an invalid the air agrees with wonderfully.
