The missionary at the time
was helping the colonists to build a small redoubt to protect their maize
and wheat fields from the inroads of their enemies. On viewing, at
Sillery, in 1881, Claremont the luxurious country seat of a successful
merchant, memory reverts to the same locality two centuries back, when
every tree of the locality might have concealed a ferocious Iroquois
bent on his errand of death.
From the cupola of Claremont, a wondrous vista is revealed. The eye gazing
northward, rests on the nodding pinnacles of the spruce, hemlock and
surrounding pine. Towards the south-east and west you have before you
nearly every object calculated to add effect to the landscape. Far below
at your feet, rushes on the mighty St. Lawrence, with its fleet of
merchantmen and rafts of timber; the church of St. Romuald, half way up
the hill; facing you, the Etchemin stream, its mills, its piers, crowded
with deals; to the west, the roaring Chaudiere, "La Riviere Bruyante" of
early times, in the remote distance, on a bright morning, are also plainly
visible, the hills of the White Mountains of Maine.
THE WILD FLOWERS OF SILLERY.
"Everywhere about us are they glowing,
Some like stars, to tell us spring is born;
Others, their blue eyes, with tears o'erflowing,
Stand like Ruth amid the golden corn."
Are you an admirer of nature, and sweet flowers?