Northern direction joins the Chaudiere and conveys the tribute of the hills to the majestic Saint Lawrence, flowing through the green vallies of Canada. It is with no little satisfaction he reflects while crossing the little rivulets intersecting each other like threads of silver, that he passes with a stride, the waters wandering onward to waft the treasures of commerce and increase the wealth of an enterprising and active population.

After leaving the height of land forming the boundary between the nations, the route is with the Loup River. Near its confluence with the Chaudiere, we emerge unexpectedly from the shade. The forest retires on either hand. Cultivated fields spread out before us, sprinkled with white cottages and enlivened by the sounds of industry. So rapid is the change, it seems like the work of magic. The transition is not preceded by indications of the neighborhood of civilization; but bursts suddenly upon the sight. After toiling through the scenes where nature is still in her primeval wildness, where the prospect is bounded on all sides by the foliage so deep and dense that we can scarce catch a glimmer of the sun beam, or look out at the blue heavens, wide plains of waving grain, luxuriant meadows, and smooth hills rise upon the sight. It seems the work of a new creation. When we arrived weary and toil worn, the scenery was fresh and glowing. The clouds which had drenched us with their heavy rains had added a livelier tint to vegetation, and rested in heavy folds on the distant heights closing the still valley we entered, where all looked tranquil and happy. The twitter of the swallow from the roof, smoothing his feathers and turning his eye down upon the dog snarling at the door, came in mellow notes upon the ear, and never had the sounds of this cheerful companion of man seemed more sweet than then, inviting us to enter the cottage beneath his straw built home.

The stranger cannot without difficulty persuade himself he is not enjoying a pleasant dream, or that the spell of some enchanter is not thrown upon his senses. He hears the accents of a strange tongue and voices addressing him in a foreign language; he sees other modes of dress than those of his native land, dwellings of unknown forms, and a garden country stretching around him.

The Chaudiere is a large and rapid stream, issuing in Lake Megantic and flowing through the Seignories of Vaudrieul, Saint Joseph, Sainte Marie, Saint Etienne, Jolliett and Lauzon, it pours its waters into the Saint Lawrence about six miles above Quebec, at the distance of an hundred miles from its fountain. The channel is

too much obstructed by rapids, rocks, and cataracts to admit of boat navigation. The banks are precipitous and high, clothed with. trees of scanty stature and diminutive growth. The fords are numerous, and are marked by the tops of Pines fastened to stakes below the surface of the stream, and which seem as if flourishing in their native element. The arrangement for ferries is somewhat peculiar. Two canoes hollowed from logs are placed parallel with each other; a platform of stout planks is laid over them, and the structure when floating with its burden, appears like a wandering bridge swept away by the swift current, with the passing carriages still on its top.

The road to Quebec leads along the Eastern bank of the Chaudiere. The farms on its margin are laid in narrow tracts, containing usually about 75 acres each, in the remoter settlements, and bounded by fences running at right angles with the river. The front does not exceed thirty or forty rods in width, and as the farm houses are usually built near the centre of the lots, they form a continued village stretching mile after mile along the highways.Proposing hereafter to speak of the feudal tenures by which the lands are held, we shall not now delay our journey to remark on the system.

The Houses are similar to each other in construction, differing only in size, or external neatness. They are built of timbers, hewn and interlocked at the extremities, and secured in their proper position by upright posts inserted in grooves sawed for their reception. The roofs are steep and high, rising at a great angle of inclination a mode of erection well suited to the stormy inclemency of a severe climate, affording greater space for the convenience of the inhabitants, and preventing the winter's snow from accumulating. The exterior edge is indented with points, in the form of half diamonds. The rows of shingles in the middle of the ascent are pointed in similar manner, or the figures are traced with paint: a third series of these singular ornaments is worked on the joining at the summit of the two sides. Little turrets are raised on either end, and the chimney of loosely piled stones, scarcely projects above the surface of the wood. The doors are low, with the thresholds raised many inches above the level of the floor, so that the tenants are forced to clamber out as well as to climb in. The windows are divided perpendicularly along the middle and swing on hinges. They are furnished with shutters of substantial plank or board, and, with the sashes, are painted black. Dormant windows

on the roofs admit light to the upper apartment. All the exterior, from the foundation to the top, is whitewashed; a custom giving a general air of neatness and beauty. The owners of some of the dwellings have ornamented their residences by painting diamond shaped figures of a black or red color. Others have chequered their doors with broad stripes intersecting each other, and some have displayed their superior taste, by marking broad spots over the whole edifice. The officers of the Militia apprise the ignorant of their rank by raising a flag staff in front of their homes, ornamented with spiral lines, like the bands around the insignia of hair dressers. In its neighborhood is a huge cross of wood, fantastically decorated with emblems of the Catholic faith, and frequently consecrated by some holy relict, or the venerated effigy of a saint in wax and rags, carefully secured from injury by a covering of glass. The Barns are large and spacious, commonly thatched with straw, but sometimes protected from the storms by a covering borrowed from the trunk of the Spruce tree. The animals for whose comfort they are provided are of a Norman race. The cows and oxen are diminutive in size; but the former, yield a great quantity of rich and excellent milk, and the latter, though awkwardly fastened to the load by the horns, are efficient laborers.

The interior of the habitations swarm with population. Although small and of one story in height, the roofs often cover the children of many generations. The decrepit grandsires tell the tales of olden times, and the tottering infants sport by their sides or climb the knees of the ancient men. As in the patriarchal days, father and son and the son's son circle around the same board and partake together of the abundance God hath given them. Cheerfulness and content are inmates with them: neatness and gaiety around. Perhaps the counterparts of those pictures the masters of the pencil have loved to form, of "the happy family," would be found more frequently among the simple Canadian peasantry, than in any other portion of the earth.

One trait in the character of this people, it would be great ingratitude to neglect. It is the uniform hospitality and kindness to strangers. Services are rendered with that ready cheerfulness which comes from the hearts of those who give, and goes to the hearts of those who receive. Two pilgrims more forlorn and desolate in aspect than the writer and a merry companion, who traversed the Kennebec woods on the good conveyances nature gave them, their own feet, have seldom made their appearance in a

civilized land. Yet we every where found a disposition to oblige which could have arisen only from the wish to relieve the wants, inducing to make drafts on the civility so freely tendered.

Rude and unpolished as are the inhabitants of the Chaudiere, they possess an intuitive and native sense of politeness, affording the stranger equal pleasure and surprise. A single instance will illustrate the habitual manner of expression. Having entered into a treaty for a conveyance to a neighboring village, and being already apprised of the just price, we demurred to the first demand as excessive. The answer to our remonstrance, when rendered into English, was as follows, "We cannot well afford to go at this time for this sum; but if it will be an accommodation to you we will receive less" a response containing an argument so convincing, that for the honor of our country we could not further exercise our New England propensity.

So primitive and simple are the manners of those with whom we were visitants, that it required no laborious stretch of imagination to overstep the distance separating us from the sunny land of France, and roll back the years between the present period and the age of her glory, the reign of the fourteenth Lewis, truly called the Magnificent, and to fancy ourselves quietly seated among the vine covered hills and green vallies of the land of their ancestors, in the period when the royal patron of genius and learning held the sceptre with a firmer grasp and wore the crown with a higher dignity, than the successors whose hands have since borne the rod of command and whose brows have been bound with the emblem of power in that realm of crime and blood. More than two centuries have gone by since the possession of Canada by the French; yet they have worked few changes among the population. The customs transported thither by the first emigrants have been transmitted as heir-looms from father to son, through races, whose blood has been but slightly, if at all adulterated, and are now the same we find described in the worm-eaten, and mouldered volumes of the early voyagers. Possessing little enterprize, cultivating a fertile soil freely furnishing the necessaries of life, having few wants, and placed beyond the contagious influence of luxury, they hold firmly the usages and precepts delivered to them. One generation treads in the footsteps of its predecessors, and resolutely resists innovation, in whatever form it appears, whether of improvement or deterioration.

L.

on the roofs admit light to the upper apartment. All the exterior, from the foundation to the top, is whitewashed; a custom giving a general air of neatness and beauty. The owners of some of the dwellings have ornamented their residences by painting diamond shaped figures of a black or red color. Others have chequered their doors with broad stripes intersecting each other, and some have displayed their superior taste, by marking broad spots over the whole edifice. The officers of the Militia apprise the ignorant of their rank by raising a flag staff in front of their homes, ornamented with spiral lines, like the bands around the insignia of hair dressers. In its neighborhood is a huge cross of wood, fantastically decorated with emblems of the Catholic faith, and frequently consecrated by some holy relict, or the venerated effigy of a saint in wax and rags, carefully secured from injury by a covering of glass.

The Barns are large and spacious, commonly thatched with straw, but sometimes protected from the storms by a covering borrowed from the trunk of the Spruce tree. The animals for whose comfort they are provided are of a Norman race. The cows and oxen are diminutive in size; but the former, yield a great quantity of rich and excellent milk, and the latter, though awkwardly fastened to the load by the horns, are efficient laborers.

The interior of the habitations swarm with population. Although small and of one story in height, the roofs often cover the children of many generations. The decrepit grandsires tell the tales of olden times, and the tottering infants sport by their sides or climb the knees of the ancient men. As in the patriarchal days, father and son and the son's son circle around the same board and partake together of the abundance God hath given them. Cheerfulness and content are inmates with them: neatness and gaiety around. Perhaps the counterparts of those pictures the masters of the pencil have loved to form, of "the happy family," would be found more frequently among the simple Canadian peasantry, than in any other portion of the earth.

One trait in the character of this people, it would be great ingratitude to neglect. It is the uniform hospitality and kindness to strangers. Services are rendered with that ready cheerfulness which comes from the hearts of those who give, and goes to the hearts of those who receive. Two pilgrims more forlorn and desolate in aspect than the writer and a merry companion, who traversed the Kennebec woods on the good conveyances nature gave them, their own feet, have seldom made their appearance in a