218 THE HALCYON IN CANADA. 



this stream joins the St. Lawrence, while the citadel 

 is high on the instep and commands the whole field. 

 The grand Battery is a little below, on the brink of 

 the instep, so to speak, and the promenader looks 

 down several hundred feet into the tops of the chim- 

 neys of this part of the lower town, and upon the 

 great river sweeping by northeastward like another 

 Amazon. The heel of our misshappen foot extends 

 indefinitely toward Montreal. Upon it, on a level 

 with the citadel, are the Plains of Abraham. It was 

 up its high, almost perpendicular, sides that Wolfe 

 clambered with his army, and stood in the rear of his 

 enemy one pleasant September morning over a hun- 

 dred years ago. 



To the north and northeast of Quebec, and in full 

 view from the upper parts of the city, lies a rich belt 

 of agricultural country, sloping gently toward the 

 river, and running parallel with it for many miles, 

 called the Beauport slopes. The division of the 

 land into uniform parallelograms, as in France, was 

 a marked feature, and is so throughout the Domin- 

 ion. A road ran through the midst of it lined with 

 trees, and leading to the falls of the Montmorency. 

 I imagine that this section is the garden of Que- 

 bec. Beyond it rose the mountains. Our eyes looked 

 wistfully toward them, for we had decided to pene- 

 trate the Canadian woods in that direction. 



One hundred and twenty-five miles from Quebec, 

 as the loon flies, almost due north over unbroken 

 spruce forests, lies Lake St. John, the cradle of the 



