Picturesque Quebec, By James Macpherson Le Moine










































































































































 -  In 1838, we remember well noticing Lord Durham's showy
equipage with outriders, thundering daily over this same road: the Earl - Page 550
Picturesque Quebec, By James Macpherson Le Moine - Page 550 of 864 - First - Home

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In 1838, We Remember Well Noticing Lord Durham's Showy Equipage With Outriders, Thundering Daily Over This Same Road:

The Earl being a particular admirer of the Cap Rouge scenery.

This seat has passed over, by purchase, to Chas. Temple, Esq., son of our late respected fellow-townsman, Major Temple, who for a series of years served in that 15th regiment, to whose prowess the Plains of Abraham bore witness during the war of the conquest. "The Highlands" are now occupied by J. W. Stockwell, Esquire.

WINTER FOX HUNTING IN CANADA.

From time immemorial, Merry England has been renowned for her field sports; prominent amongst which may be reckoned her exciting pastime of Fox-hunting, the pride, the glory, par excellence of the roystering English squire. Many may not be aware that we also, in our far-off Canada, have a method of Fox-hunting peculiarly our own - in harmony with the nature of the country - adapted to the rigors of our arctic winter season - the successful prosecution of which calls forth more endurance, a keener sight, a more thorough knowledge of the habits of the animal, a deeper self-control and greater sagacity, than does the English sport; for, as the proverb truly says, "Pour attraper la bete, faut etre plus fin qu'elle." [256]

A short sketch [257] of a Canadian Fox-hunt may not, therefore, prove uninteresting. At the outset, let the reader bear in mind that Sir Reynard Canadensis is rather a rakish, dissipated gentleman, constantly turning night into day, in the habit of perambulating through the forests, the fields, and homesteads, at most improper hours, to ascertain whether, perchance, some old dame Partlett, some hoary gobbler, some thoughtless mother-goose, allured to wander over the farm-yard by the jocund rays of a returning March sun, may not have been outside of the barn, when the negligent stable-boy closed up for the night; or else, whether some gay Lothario of a hare in yonder thicket may not, by the silent and discreet rays of the moon, be whispering some soft nonsense in the willing ear of some guileless doe, escaped from a parent's vigilant eye.

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