The St.
Lawrence Is Here Divided Into Two Channels.
The one we took is called the
Lost Passage; the Indian pilot who knew it died, and it has only been
recovered within the last five years.
It is a very fine rapid, the islands
being extremely picturesque. We went down it at dizzy speed, with all our
steam on. I suppose that soon after this we entered the Lower Province,
for the aspect of things totally changed. The villages bore French names;
there were high wooden crosses by the water-side; the houses were many-
gabled and many-windowed, with tiers of balconies; and the setting sun
flashed upon Romish churches with spires of glittering tin. Everything was
marked by stagnation and retrogression: the people are habitans, the
clergy curés.
We ran the Cedars, a magnificent rapid, superior in beauty to the Grand
Rapids at Niagara, and afterwards those of the Côteau du Lac and the Split
Rock, but were obliged to anchor at La Chine, as its celebrated cataract
can only be shot by daylight. It was cold and dark, and nearly all the
passengers left La Chine by the cars for Montreal, to avoid what some
people consider the perilous descent of this rapid. As both means of
reaching Montreal were probably equally safe, I decided on remaining on
board, having secured a state-room. My companions in the saloon were the
captain's wife and a lady who seemed decidedly flighty, and totally
occupied in waiting upon a poodle lapdog.
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