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tilly, Loches, Chinon, Marly, may have suited old 

 France : they would have been out of place in new 

 Trance : Canadian mansions, the best of them, are not 

 the stately country-homes of 



" Old pheasant lords, 

 Partridge-breeders of a thousand years." 



typifying the accumulated wealth of centuries or patri- 

 cian pride ; nor are they the gay chateaux of la Belle 

 France. In this Canada of ours, oft we have had to 

 do without the architect's skill ; nature had been so 

 lavish in her own lordly decorations, that art could 

 be dispensed with. Our country-seats possess attrac- 

 tions of a higher class, yea, of a nobler order, than brick 

 and mortar, moulded by the genius of man, can impart. 

 A kind Providence has surrounded them in spring, sum- 

 mer and autumn with scenery often denied to the tur- 

 reted castle of the proudest nobleman in England. 

 Those around Quebec are more particularly hallowed 

 by associations destined to remain ever memorable 

 amongst the inhabitants of a soil moistened by the blood 

 of heroes (1)." On one of these historic sites, more than 

 one century ago, was decided the fate of French Canada 

 — let us say, by its ultimate results — of North America. 

 The majority of these cool retreats, scarcely visible 

 from the high road, lie perdus, under dense groves of 

 oaks and pines, the remnants of the forest primeval, 

 on the lofty banks of the noble St. Lawrence, from 

 Cape Rouge to Cape Diamond, eight miles ; and from 

 thence to the foaming cataract of Montmorenci, seven 

 miles to the east ; whilst others stand embowered in 

 rustic seclusion amidst trees and flowers, under hoary 

 pines and verdant maples, like sentinels on the Ste. Foye 

 heights, watching the meanders of the St. Charles 

 flowing below, amidst golden wheat fields and green 



(!) Picturesque Quebec, p. 271, 



