Canadian cottages, the best of them, are not the stately country
homes of
"Old pheasant-lords,
... Partridge-breeders of a thousand years,"
typifying the accumulated wealth of centuries or patrician pride; nor are
they the gay chateaux of La Belle France. In the Canada of the past,
we could - in many instances we had to - do without the architect's skill;
nature having been lavish to us in her decorations, art could be dispensed
with. Our country dwellings possess attractions of a higher class, yea, of
a nobler order, than brick and mortar moulded by the genius of man can
impart. A kind Providence has surrounded them in spring, summer and autumn
with scenery often denied to the turreted castle of the proudest nobleman
in Old England. Those around Quebec are more particularly hallowed by
associations destined to remain ever memorable amongst the inhabitants of
the soil.
Some of our larger estates, like Belmont (comprising 450 acres,) date back
more than two centuries, whilst others, though less ancient, retrace
vividly events glorious in the same degree to the two races, who, after
having fought stoutly for the mastery, at last hung out the olive branch
and united long since, willing partners, in the bonds of a common
nationality, neither English nor French, though participating largely of
both, and have linked their destinies together as Canadians. Every
traveller in Canada, from Baron La Hontan, who "preferred the forests of
Canada to the Pyrenees of France," to the Hon.
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