We Neared The
Blue Hills, And Put Up Our Horses In The Indian Village Of Lorette.
Beautiful Lorette!
I must not describe, for I cannot, how its river
escapes from under the romantic bridge in a broad sheet of milk-white
foam, and then, contracted between sullen barriers of rock, seeks the deep
shade of the pine-clad precipices, and hastens to lose itself there.
It is
perfection, and beauty, and peace; and the rocky walks upon its forest-
covered crags might be in Switzerland.
Being deserted by the gentlemen of the party, my fair young companion and
I found our way to Lorette, which is a large village built by government
for the Indians; but by intermarrying with the French they have lost
nearly all their distinctive characteristics, and the next generation will
not even speak the Indian language. Here, as in every village in Lower
Canada, there is a large Romish church, ornamented with gaudy paintings.
We visited some of the squaws, who wear the Indian dress, and we made a
few purchases. We were afterwards beset by Indian boys with bows and
arrows of clumsy construction; but they took excellent aim, incited by the
reward of coppers which we offered to them. It is grievous to see the
remnants of an ancient race in such a degraded state; the more so as I
believe that there is no intellectual inferiority as an obstacle to their
improvement. I saw some drawings by an Indian youth which evinced
considerable talent:
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 298 of 478
Words from 80899 to 81149
of 129941
