“At La Prairie we crossed the ice to Montreal, whose isolated mountain forms a conspicuous object at the distance of some leagues. From thence to Quebec, the road follows the course of the St. Lawrence, whose banks present a succession of villages, many of them delightfully situated; but all form and feature were absorbed in the snowy deluge, which now deepened every league; add to which, the sleigh-track, by frequently running on the bed of the river, placed us below prospect of every kind. We found the inns neat, and the people attentive; French politesse began to be contrasted with American bluntness. It is curious to observe that this characteristic of the Americans, which so frequently offends the polished feelings of English travellers, is exactly what was formerly objected by the French to ourselves. The ‘rudesse’ of the English character was long a standing jest with our refined neighbours; but we have now, it seems, so far shaken off this odious remnant of uncourtly habits, as to regard it with true French horror in our trans-Atlantic cousins. “It was Sunday when we arrived at St. Anne’s; mass was just finished, and above a hundred sleighs were rapidly dispersing themselves up the neighbouring heights, and across the bed of the river, to the adjacent villages. The common country sleigh is a clumsy box-shaped machine, raised at both ends, perhaps not greatly unlike the old heroic car. It holds two persons, with the driver, who stands before them. One horse is commonly sufficient, but two are used in posting, when the leader is attached by cords, tandem-wise, and left to use his own discretion, without the restraint of rein, or impulse of whip. Should, however, the latter stimulus become indispensable, the driver jumps from the sleigh, runs forward, applies his pack-thread lash, and regains his seat without any hazard from extraordinary increase of impetus. The runners of these sleighs are formed of two slips of wood, so low that the shafts collect the snow into a succession of wavy hillocks, properly christened ‘cahots,’ for they almost dislocate your limbs five thousand times in a day’s journey. An attempt was once made to correct this evil, by prohibiting all _low runners_, as they are called, from coming within a certain distance of Quebec; meaning thereby to force the country people into the use of high runners in the American fashion. Jean Baptiste, however, sturdily and effectually resisted this heretical innovation, by halting with his produce without the limits, and thus compelling the townspeople to come to him to make their purchases.