THE LADIES 1 FLORAL CABINET. 
51 
for a moment the sight of a pyramid rising in the har¬ 
bor ahead did not strike us as singularly out of place. 
In the distance its seemingly magnificent proportions 
appeared to rise directly from the water, but a nearer 
view revealed a small island, and reduced the pyramid 
to its proper size. It proved to be a monument erected 
to the memory of some brave soldier who had goner 
from this] little town and had fallen in battle. The 
peculiar idiosyncracies of his fellow-townsmen had 
seized upon this singular form of monument, for what 
reason we were unable to conjecture. 
There it was, however, built of large gray stones, and 
surmounted by—just think—a cannon with nozzle point¬ 
ing upward ! 
The incongruity of ancient pyramid and modern 
cannon, one would think, could hardly fail to strike the 
mind of every one: evidently it had so failed in respect 
to the originator and erectors of this peculiar con¬ 
struction. Though soon passing beyond, we laid it 
away in a niche of our memories to be reserved for fui- 
ther conjecture and research. Gladly would we have 
done likewise with the name of the brave man whose 
virtues it commemorated, but alas! that had been lost 
in oblivion. We could not ascertain it, notwithstanding 
many inquiries; so, finally, we reached the conclusion that 
this ignorance might be one of the peculiarities of a 
strange country. 
The latter part of the time passed on the small boat 
was occupied by the passengers in arguing with the 
Captain as to the propriety of making any charge for 
the trip. One urged the long hours of discomfort to 
which they had been subjected, another, the loss of time, 
a third, the additional expense caused by the delay,while 
still another insisted that no money would compensate 
for the lack of breakfast. The Captain took the joking 
in sober earnest and went from one to another pleading- 
in his own behalf, trying to prove that it was the fog 
rather than his incapacity that had caused the delay. 
As we sailed up to the town, a long dock and a few 
scattered houses seemed to afford little chance of get¬ 
ting a good meal; but, fortunately, one of our party 
remembered having met at one time a Scotchwoman 
from this same place, and so announced the intention 
of finding her out and procuring refreshment for 
us all. 
Expostulations and remonstrances were of no avail to 
alter the determination of our decided friend, so we 
finally consented, urged thereto by the pangs of 
hunger. 
Directly upon landing we made inquiries for the 
Scotchwoman above mentioned. The houses of several of 
like name were pointed out; so it was only at a venture 
that we knocked at one, which was opened by a young- 
girl. It was of no use to inquire for Mrs. —— in a vil¬ 
lage where half responded to the same name, so a series 
of catechetical questions ensued. “ Was her mother’s 
name-? ” “ Had she ever lived in the States? ” Was 
she sister to so and so?” “Did she know Dr.-?” 
As all queries were answered in the affirmative, we felt 
that our luck had at length changed for the better, and 
as by this time we were seated in a humble but cozy 
parlor with a good piano, and many signs of taste and 
refinement, we realized fully that our lines had fallen 
in a pleasant place. 
A warm greeting from the hospitable Scotchwoman 
made us feel perfectly at home, notwithstanding our 
entire strangeness. During the preparation for our 
repast, we wandered through the little garden and 
found we were still veritably “ on the St. Lawrence.” 
Carefully-kept beds, old-fashioned, sweet-scented flow¬ 
ers were around us, and, laving the shore at our 
feet, the deep, green waters of the river. We looked over 
the wide bay, broken here and there by islands, to the 
distant shore, and every sense found full gratification, 
particularly as at this moment we were called, 
with many apologies, to a table laden with good 
things. 
Previous inquiries had informed us that by going a 
mile inward front the river we should reach the station, 
when, taking a train west for about twenty miles, we 
should reach a larger town at which the Royal Mail 
steamers stopped. In order to accomplish all this, we 
could bestow but a very few moments upon the good 
cheer that lay before us. 
We parted with our kind friend with many regrets 
and with many thanks for the generous Scottish hospi¬ 
tality that so warmly welcomed strangers. Our paths 
in life had for a moment crossed, then diverged, and as 
the old woman shook hands with one and another of 
the party, she said, “We shall never meet again in this 
world, but I trust we may meet in the hereafter.” It 
being impossible to procure a vehicle of any description, 
we started on our mile walk. A blazing sun, no shade, 
a board walk, which had been described as in good 
order, and easy to walk upon, but in reality proved to 
be full of holes and pit-falls for the unwary, and neces¬ 
sitated frequent leaps and crawling down and climb¬ 
ing up, and only fifteen minutes of time ahead 
of us. 
As we neared the station, heated, tired, and cross, a 
whistle in the distance necessitated a sudden spurt, and 
puffing and blowing, the train and ourselves drew up 
together, and we started for Montreal in exactly the 
contrary direction. A rapid ride through a level un¬ 
interesting pine-tree country, a hasty change from 
steam to horses, a wild gallop of three miles, part of the 
time in sight of and along the river with the steamer 
almost abreast of us making for the same point, a 
sudden dumping from the carriage as the plank was 
thrown, not upon a dock, but merely upon the bank 
(another Canadian peculiarity), and we were again on 
the St. Lawrence. Then followed for hours, scenes, the 
beauties of which are so familiar to every one who has 
ever sailed down the river. Lovely islands, narrow 
channels, wide bays, shores constantly varying in 
beauty; lighthouses following one another in frequent 
succession. Finally the series of rapids, each set more 
beautiful and exciting than the last, through which, 
with bated breath, all glowing with excitement, we 
passed, guided by the hand of the Indian pilot, who in 
appearance might well be the ideal redman so familiar 
to Cooper’s readers. 
We overrated the danger in order to increase the ex¬ 
citement and to afford ourselves the more enjoyment. 
As we rushed along with attention sometimes on our 
helmsman, sometimes on the foaming, seething waters 
ahead and beside us, we could almost shout, did not 
Mrs. Grundy sitting by in calm disdain cause us to re¬ 
strain our enthusiasm. Through the rapids under the 
ridge, into the city, just as the sun going down, finished 
the day, our first day on the St. Lawrence. 
■Julia C. Cornwell. 
