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efforts Wolfe restrained his men from firing until the charging columns were within forty paces, and then there burst forth a volley which wellnigh annihilated the long line of French infantry, and caused the survivors to fly in confusion. Wolfe ordered his entire army to advance, with bayonets set, and the enemy had no chance to re-form. A few minutes of carnage ensued-Wolfe and Montcalm both fell, mortally wounded—the Canadian militia fled pell-mell, and the Highlanders, drawing their claymores, pursued the routed foe until checked by grape-shot from the walls of the city. The field was won, and with it Canada. 1,600 Frenchmen lay on the Plains, dead or wounded, and 656 of the British troops. “Now God be praised ! I die happy,” cried the leader who had conquered a new empire for Britain. His gallant and chivalric opponent, borne within the walls, was informed that his wound was mortal, and that he could not survive a dozen hours. “So much the better,” said he,

“ “I shall not live to see the surrender of Quebec."

After Montcalm's defeat on the Plains of Abraham, the batteries along the walls kept up a steady fire, although the garrison was in a starving condition. Nevertheless, the British troops established 118 cannon in ramparts on the Plains, and hotly bombarded the doomed city. On the 18th of September the keys were surrendered, and the veteran Louisburg Grenadiers marched through the dilapidated gates and occupied the place.

When the final evacuation of Quebec took place, in 1871, the 60th Regiment marched out from the gates of the Citadel, yielding up this stronghold to its new Canadian defenders. One hundred and twelve years before, the 60th (Royal Americans) was one of the regiments which fought on the Plains of Abraham, and helped to win this city for the British Empire.

Beyond the martello towers, on the Plains of St. Foye, rises a tall monument, crowned by a statue of Bellona, presented by Prince Napoleon, and marking the centre of another battle-field. A few months after the British army under General Wolfe had captured Quebec, the Chevalier de Levis advanced against the city, at the head of an army of 4,500 French troops and 6,000 Canadians. De Levis was of the family of the Dukes of Ventadour, who professed to possess documents attesting their direct lineal descent from the Hebrew patriarch Levi. General Murray commanded the British forces at Quebec, and indiscreetly advanced across the Plains of Abraham, with 3,500 soldiers, to give battle to the enemy. He encountered the French host about three miles from the gates, and a short but desperate battle ensued, the British being hurled back into the town, with a loss of a thousand men and twenty pieces of artillery. A dreary siege followed, during which the little garrison of 2,200 men, aided by their wounded comrades, and by 500 soldiers' wives, held the works gallantly, and poured upon the French batteries a continuous rain of fire from 132 pieces of artillery, mounted upon the walls. Each party, British and French alike, expected a fleet up the river, whose arrival would decide the contest; and when an unknown frigate rounded the headland below and stood in towards the town, both the besiegers and the besieged were filled with intense anxiety. Suddenly the Union Jack was run up to her mast-head, and round after round of British cheers rolled over the battered walls. The remainder of the squadron soon arrived, and destroyed the French fleet in the St. Lawrence; after which the Chevalier de Levis retreated hastily to Montreal.

The environs of Quebec have been highly favoured by nature and by history. On one side the plateau stretches away up the St. Lawrence, past the Plains of Abraham






expresses his belief that "few cities offer so many striking contrasts. A fortress and a commercial city together, built upon the summit of a rock like the nest of an eagle, while her vessels are everywhere wrinkling the surface of the ocean; an American city inhabited by French colonists, governed by England, and garrisoned by Scotch regiments; a European city by its civilisation and its habits of refinement, and still close by the remnant of the Indian tribes and the barren mountains of the North."

The history of Quebec is full of the profoundest fascination, but scant justice can be done to it in a brief outline, which must ignore hundreds of acts of devotion, of valour, and of romantic chivalry. Its very name is a mystery. Some believe that it is derived from the Indian word Kebec, signifying “a strait," and applied to the narrowing of the St. Lawrence off Cape Diamond. Others think that it was named in loving remembrance of Caudebec, on the Seine, to which its natural features bear a magnified resemblance; and show that William de la Pole, Earl of Suffolk in the fifteenth century, bore on his seal the title of Lord of Quebec. Suffolk had large estates in France, and became the conqueror of Joan of Arc; but was impeached and put to death for causing the loss of the English provinces on the Continent (as related by Shakspere, in King llenry VI., Part II., Act iv.). The popular account, however, of the origin of the name of the Canadian Gibraltar tells of the astonished cry of the French explorers on first seeing Cape Diamond, Quel bec !(What a beak !), which by an easy elision became Quebec.

It was in May of the year 1535 that Jacques Cartier gathered his high-born officers and fearless sailors in the Cathedral of St. Malo, where, after attending mass, they received the bishop's blessing, and then departed over the unknown western seas. The largest vessel of the fleet was only 120 tons burden ; but they crossed the ocean safely, and ascended the broad St. Lawrence, past the dark Saguenay gorges, and the vine-laden shores of the Isle of Orleans. The savages told Cartier of the river that "it goes so far that no man hath ever been to the end ;” and he reported it to be “the greatest river, without comparison, that is known to have ever been seen.” At Quebec he found an Indian village named Stadaconé, governed by King Donnacona ; above which a vast lone promontory thrust its beetling front into the rushing river. Cartier sailed up to the site of Montreal, leaving at Quebec a colony of Frenchmen, many of whom died in their little fort during the long and bitter winter. When the spring time came again, and the icy bonds of the river were broken, Cartier abandoned the rude and melancholy cantonment by Cape Diamond and sailed away to France, bearing with him the barbarian king and several of his chiefs. А few months later, and Donnacona was baptised with great pomp, in the Cathedral of Rouen ; and a few months more, he and his forest-lords were dead. After five years had passed, Cartier reached Quebec once more, and built new forts, but the natives viewed the colonists with just suspicion, and the whole company soon returned to La Belle France. It was not until 1608 that the noble Champlain sailed up the river, and founded the city, at the base of the majestic cliffs which have since been so richly endowed with heroic memories. Soon the Franciscans came, and then the Jesuits; and the consecrated priests entered upon their century's labour of Christianising the Hurons, while the men-at-arms were busy in fighting the Iroquois and the New England men. The little town had been founded only twenty years, when Sir David Kirke attacked it with an English fleet, and The Falls of Montmorenci form one of the fairest attractions of the Province, and, indeed, of the continent. They are about seven miles from Quebec, where the Montmorenci river, just before its confluence with the St. Lawrence, falls over a black cliff 251 feet high, in a clear and massive white fall, shading to amber tints in its deeper parts, fluttering out at its edges into gauzy clouds, and plunging with continuous roar into huge undulations of foam and prismatic mist. The great gulf of chocolate-coloured earth and rock, decorated with spray-moistened herbage, opens from the St. Lawrence like the chancel of a Titanic cathedral, where the solemn music of nature never ceases. “Instead of an artificial fountain in its square,” says Thoreau, “ Quebec has this magnificent natural waterfall to adorn one side of its harbour.” The plains of Beauport lie between Montmorenci and Quebec, and are occupied by a long line of quaint and thick-walled cottages, the homes of a contented peasantry, tracing their descent from the colonists who came so long ago from the French province of La Perche.

. A tall twin-spired church rises from among these antique houses; and here and there are wayside crosses and shrines, making manifest the primitive character of the people, who are shut out from the world by the Rock of Quebec. In all this great county there are but a few hundred English-speaking inhabitants; and as one fares on beyond the Montmorenci, he enters a region even more given over to the sixteenth century. As one of their own abbés has said: “In the inhabitant of the Côte de Beaupré you find the Norman peasant of the reign of Louis XIV., with his annals, his songs, and his superstitions." Here the hamlet of Ange Gardien nestles in a sheltered glen, guarded at either end by roadside oratories, and grouped about an ancient church, on whose front is a sun-dial. The parish was founded in 1678 ; and eighty years later the gallant British battalions of the Louisburg Grenadiers captured it. Nor was it an easy conquest, for the people of Château Richer, the next village, had entrenched themselves in the Franciscan monastery which overlooked the plain, and made such a valiant defence, monks, priests, and peasants together, that General Wolfe was forced to send a section of artillery, and batter down the consecrated walls. The last village on the Côte de Beaupré is La Bonne Ste. Anne, whose church is the most highly-venerated shrine in America, visited by many thousands of pilgrims every year, and adorned with a painting of St. Anne, by Le Brun, which was presented by the Viceroy de Tracy, and other pictures by the Franciscan monk Lefrançois. There are also many rude er roto paintings; and piles and sheaves of crutches, left here by those who have been healed. The legend of the translation of the body of the mother of the Virgin from Jerusalem to Marseilles, and thence to the Cathedral of Apt, where it was afterwards discovered by Charlemagne, is familiar. This Canadian church was erected in 1658) in obedience to a command of the Virgin, given in a vision to a little child ; and the nobles of New France presented rich gifts to it, while Bishop Laval made St. Anne's Day a feast of obligation. During the French domination,

a every ship which ascended the river fired a broadside when passing the church, in token of gratitude for the safe voyage and deliverance from the perils of the sea. In 1668 the Cathedral Chapter of Carcassonne sent over a bone of the hand of St. Anne; this relic, guarded in a crystal globe, is exhibited at morning mass, and miraculous cures of bodily ailments are said to have been effected by it. Superstition and valour went




hand-in-hand. The villagers gave battle to the destroying Iroquois, hereabouts, often and again; and when the British army advanced up the Côte de Beaupré, they beat off the Highlanders and Light Infantry, and would not give way until enveloped by the hostile detachments. It is a land of beauty and pietism, shadowed, like Umbria, by lofty mountains—the cross-crowned peak of Cap Tourmente, the dark Laurentian ridgessparkling, like the Alban Hills, with splendid waterfalls, and enriched with Vallombrosan forests. Across the broad river is the Isle of Orleans, fair as Devonshire, “the Garden of Canada," which Cartier christened the Isle of Bacchus, on account of its rich wines, and the carly navigators called the Wizards' Isle. There are seventy square miles of beauty, occupied by a peaceful and primitive people, the descendants of the old immigrants from Poitou, and dotted here and there with white hamlets, each with its quaint legend or historic memory. Below the isle the majestic St. Lawrence flows away, by many a Norman village and sequestered island community, widening with every league, toward the lonely shores of Newfoundland and Labrador.

Nothing of the kind can be more beautiful than the manner in which Quebec lords it over these hamlets in her environs. The roofs and spires of the town are covered with tin, from which the sun is brilliantly reflected. The peasant of Orleans or the Côte de Beaupré, going forth to his morning labours, or returning homeward at sunset, sees the formidable promontory of Cape Diamond leagues away, clearly outlined in the level light, and crowned with countless sparkling points. Sometimes this imposing apparition is seen over the ruffled dark blue waters of the St. Lawrence; sometimes, across velvety expanses of meadow-land, rich with harvests; sometimes, through the massy foliage of the Laurentian forests; and often, perhaps too often, over interminable reaches of ice and snow, covering meadow and river and forest alike with their dreary shroud. But in sunshine and storm alike, amid the heats of the short but blazing summer, or the rigours of the Siberian winter, the habitan looks upon Quebec as the proud capital of La Nouvelle France; the home of the foremost scholars and divines and statesmen of his race; the city of Laval and Champlain, of Frontenac and Montcalm.

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An Ancient Mariner-A Curious Wedding-Early and Later History of Marseilles—The Marseillaise Hymn-Present Aspect

of the City-The Place Neuve-The Streets with their Legendary and Historical Associations—The Prado- The Wonders of the Corniche Road-Commerce of the City-The Port-Churches and Church Traditions-Pageants and Festivals-St. Victor-Notre Dame de la Garde-Fortifications-Disappearance of Antiquities of MarseillesThe Tour de St. Paul-Hôtel de Ville-The Palais de Longchamps-Hospitals and other Charitable InstitutionsLocal Industries- The Great Men of Marseilles.

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IX HUNDRED years before the Christian Era, when Rome was only half

way through her second century, from Ionian Phocæa, the rival of Tyre, a fleet went sailing westward over the blue waters of the Mediterranean. The Phocæans were the first Greeks to undertake distant voyages; they explored the Adriatic, Tyrrhenian and Iberian Seas, and planted colonies on various

shores. The fleet just alluded to bore its band of adventurers to the southern coast of Gaul, and here, near the mouth of the Rhone, it was determined to build a city.

Being desirous of living on friendly terms with the Celto-Ligurian inhabitants of the district, Protis, one of the leaders of the expedition, went with a few companions to seek the alliance of Nannus, King of the Segobrigians, in whose territories the colonists were about to settle. It was a day of high festivity when the envoys reached the Court of Nannus, for the young princess Gyptis was about to choose a spouse after the custom of her country.

The Greek visitors were invited to the feast. At the close of the entertainment it was the maiden's duty to come forward and present a cup of water to whomsoever she chose as her husband. To the astonishment of the assembly she gave the cup to Protis. The nuptials were then celebrated, and a site for a city was assigned to the strangers.

But although circumstances favoured the foundation of Massalia (or, as the Romans called it, Massilia) yet the Ligurians seem to have shown a considerable amount of jealousy as they saw the new city rising and extending itself before their eyes. At the death of Nannus, his son and successor, Comanus, was stirred up to take active measures by those who feared that the Greek colonists would eventually become masters of all the surrounding territory. Accordingly, at the festival of the Floralia, Comanus sent some of his men into the city as guests, others he concealed in floral chariots, and with the rest of his troops he waited in ambush until during the night the gates should be opened for him by his confederates. But a Ligurian woman spoilt the plot. near of kin to King Comanus, but was enamoured of a handsome young Greek, to whom she revealed the conspiracy and begged him to save his life. The result was that the concealed Ligurians were massacred, and the treacherous king, with 7,000 of his men, attacked and slain. Henceforward, on festal days in Marseilles and neighbouring cities, the gates were kept closed—a custom maintained in Provence for centuries after its origin had by most been forgotten.

She was

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