At the station there was a goodly crowd of men in ragged fur coats and caps, pea jackets, and long boots, of an amphibious sort, who did not quite look like sailors, and who yet were not landsmen. These were clamouring for passengers, and touting with energy in a mixture of French and English. “Prenez notr’ bateau, M’sieu’--La Belle Alliance! Good boat, Sar! Jean Baptiste, M’sieu’: I well known boat-man, Sir.” “The blue boat, Sir, gentleman’s boat, Mon Espoir,” “L’Hirondelle,” and so on at the top of their voices. And sure enough there, drawn up on the snow near the station, was a range of stout whale boats, double planked on the sides, and provided with remarkably broad keels. We selected, after a critical inspection, the captain of one of these--a merry-eyed, swarthy fellow, with a big beard and brawny shoulders--as our Charon, and following his directions we were stowed away in a sort of well between the steersman and the stroke oar, where we sat down with our legs stretched out very comfortably, and were then covered up to the chin with old skins, furs, and great coats. When all was ready, a horse was brought forward with a sling bar, to which a rope was attached from the bow, and we glided forward along the road towards the most favourable point for crossing at that stage of the tide. The boat was steadied and guided by the crew, who ran alongside with their hands on the gunwales. Houses by the roadside snowed up--shop windows with French names--sallow-faced, lean people looking out of the grimy windows--some large ships on the stocks, roughly placed on the river bank--these met the eye as we passed over the snow road towards the point opposite the city now looming nearer. With cheap timber and labour it is not surprising that the shipbuilding trade of Quebec flourishes. For more than a mile and a half the boat careered eastwards, in active emulation with several other boats which were in our track, and the citadel on the opposite shore already lay behind us, before the horse was detached at the side of a deep incline leading to the river, and in another moment the boat was gliding down the bank and rushing for a blue rent in the midst of the heavy surface, into which we splashed as unerringly as a wild duck drops into a moss hole. The moment the bow touched the water, all the crew, some seven or eight in number, leaped in and seized their oars, which they worked with a will, whilst the skipper, standing in the bow, directed the course of the steersman.