Surmounting the epitaph is the coat of arms of the Royal Artillery,
chiselled out of the solid block by the hands of a finished artist,
with the motto of the regiment in a scroll underneath - "Quo fas et
gloria ducunt' The erection of this, monument to the memory of the
brave but unfortunate young officer is a noble tribute of gratitude on
the part of our citizens, and in entrusting its execution to our
talented fellow-townsman, Mr. Morgan, the committee has shown a wise,
discretion that makes the completion of their task one upon which they
may heartily congratulate themselves.
A VOICE FROM MOUNT HERMON
DEDICATED TO MRS. BAINES, BY MRS. A. CAMPBELL
My dust lies sleeping here,
Mother dear!
In this, far off distant land,
Away from your little band,
And the touch of loving hand,
Your boy lies sleeping here,
Mother dear!
The Ocean rolls between
Mother dear!
You and your own boy's grave,
And the distant rush of waves
On the pebbly shore to lave,
Is the requiem sung between,
Mother dear!
Mine is a sweet green spot.
Mother dear!
And the song of the bird
Is ever heard
In the trees that gird
Us, in this quiet spot
Mother dear!
And echo answers here
Mother dear!
The tinkle of chapel bell,
And the murmur of its knell
And the mourners "It is well,'
Echo answers here,
Mother dear!
To picture my last home,
Mother dear!
I am laid me down to rest,
Where "Our Father" saw 'twas best,
In this quiet little nest,
For my last home,
Mother dear!
And my spirit is with Him,
Mother dear!
In the precious home above,
Where all is light and love,
There rests your own dear dove,
Now with Him,
Mother dear!
Through Jesus' blood I'm here,
Mother dear!
In this happy, heavenly land,
One of a glorious band,
Touched by His healing hand,
Through Jesus I am here,
Mother dear!
So dry that bitter tear,
Mother dear!
'Twill not be very long
Ere with Jesus you'll sing the song,
Sung by those who to Him belong,
And wipe that bitter tear -
Mother dear!
BARDFIELD
THE LATE BISHOP MOUNTAIN'S COUNTRY SEAT.
"Far from me and my friends be that frigid philosophy, which can make
us pass unmoved over any scenes which have been consecrated by virtue,
by valour, or by wisdom." - JOHNSON.
Pleasant the memories of our rustic homes! 'Tis pleasant, after December's
murky nights, or January and February's inexorable chills, to go and bask
on the sunny banks of our great river, under the shade of trees, in the
balmy spring, and amidst the gifts of a bountiful nature, to inhale
fragrance and health and joy. Pleasant, also, to wander during September
in our solemn woods, "with footsteps inaudible on the soft yellow floor,
composed of the autumnal sheddings of countless years." Yes, soothing to
us are these memories of home - of home amusements, home pleasures, and
even of home sorrows. Sweeter still, even though tinged with melancholy,
the remembrance of the departed friends, - those guardian spirits we once
saw moving in some of our Canadian homes in the legitimate pride of
hospitality - surrounded by young and loving hearts - enshrined in the
respect of their fellow men.
Oft has it been our privilege at that festive season of our year, when a
hallowed custom brings Canada's sons and daughters together with words of
greeting and good-fellowship, to wend our way to Bardfield, high on the
breezy hills of Sillery, and exchange a cordial welcome with the venerable
man who had dwelt in our midst for many long years. Seldom has it been our
lot to approach one who, as a scholar, a gentleman, a prelate, or what is
more than all those titles put together, a truly good man, impressed
himself more agreeably on our mind.
Another revolution of the circling year and the good pastor, the courteous
gentleman, the learned divine, our literary [240] friend and neighbour,
the master of Bardfield, had been snatched from among us and from an
admiring public. Where is the Quebecer who has not noticed the neat
cottage on the north of the St. Lewis road, where lived and died the Lord
Bishop Mountain? As you pass, you see as formerly its lovely river view,
gravelled walks, curving avenue, and turfy lawns, luxuriant hedges
designed by a hand now cold in death. Bardfield continues to be occupied
by Miss Mountain and other members of the late Bishop's family. A school
house, in the rural Gothic style, quite an ornament to Sillery, has been
erected by His Lordship's family, as a memorial of the sojourn at this
spot of this true friend of suffering humanity and patron of education.
Bardfield, founded about forty years ago by an eminent merchant of Quebec,
Peter Burnet, Esquire, was recently purchased by Albert Furness, Esquire
and by him leased to Charles Earnest Levey, Esquire, until Kirke Ella, the
property of Mr. Levy, is rebuilt.
THE FAMILY OF MOUNTAIN
The family of Mountain, which is a very old Norman family, and
therefore of French extraction, originally wrote their name "de
Montaigne," from the name of their estates at Perigord, near Bordeaux,
and as stated in the life of one of its members, the well-known
Michael Seigneur de Montaigne, the essayist and philosopher, "This
race was noble, but noble without any great lustre till his time,
which fortune showed him signal favours, and, together with honorary
and titular distinctions, procured for him the collar of the Order of
St. Michael, which at that time was the utmost mark of honour of the
French noblesse, and very rare. He was twice elected mayor of
Bordeaux, his father, a man of great honour and equity, having
formerly also had the same dignity."
Michael left only a daughter - Leonor or Leonora, who by marrying a
distant cousin of the same name, preserved the estates in the family,
as they had been for more than a century before they were inherited by
her father.
