Canoeing in Kanuckia: Or, Haps and Mishaps Afloat and Ashore of the Statesman, the Editor, the Artist, and the ScribblerHabberton, John
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Canoeing in Kanuckia: Or, Haps and Mishaps Afloat and Ashore of the Statesman, the Editor, the Artist, and the Scribbler
Habberton, John
Canoes and canoeing; Québec (Province) -- Description and travel
The villages grew nearer together as rapidly as the shores did, and
ahead and aloft there were always in sight several church spires of the
unvarying pattern peculiar to churches along the river. Every spire
was metal-covered and bright, the latter perhaps because there were
no opposition houses of worship to cause that dismalness of aspect
affected by all churches in neighborhoods where religion tends more to
squabbling than to sanctity. At short intervals appeared the residences
of the priests, each indicated by a tall cross at the gateway. The
Commodore, with his peculiar regard for the church so near a sister to
his own, signified a half-intention to go ashore to confession, but on
being reminded that but a week remained for the cruise, and that no
such short time would suffice an editor in which to unburden his soul
of its manifold sins and transgressions, he forbore to make others
suffer for his own faults. It was noticed thereafter, however, that
he doffed his helmet respectfully whenever he sailed past a church,
and that when his own day for foraging came, he preferred always to
purchase milk from a priest's housekeeper.
About this time the Purser began to drop behind in a manner
inexplicable even by the known slowness of his boat; even the
slow-sailing Vice distanced him, so the Cook, not without a special
appreciation of the Purser's tobacco, went ashore to wait for his
comrade to come up. The bank of the river was high, and the Cook, who
had been hugging the shore for shade, had made company for himself by
roaring sundry staves, supposing that no one but his comrades were
within listening distance. Great was his surprise, therefore, when on
clambering up the bank he beheld a closely built village in front of
him. Had the locality been any but Acadia, even the river banks could
not have hidden the town, but here the dwellings are as modest of
mien as the natives. Few boast of a second story, nor is the floor of
the first very much raised above the level of the ground. In exterior
dimensions, most of the houses reminded the Cook of his chicken-house
at home, or of those suburban villas which cluster so thickly upon the
hills adjoining Central Park. But with size the last-named parallel
ceased, for the exteriors were painted, the floors, seen through the
open doors and windows, were clean, and no pig disported himself
about the door-step. Children clustered about them as thickly as they
always do about very small houses, but the matrons lacked that fagged,
heaven-hungry mien peculiar to their sisters in climes where the
Scripture is fulfilled by the greatest being the servant of all--all of
her own servants. Here one might speak of love in a cottage and not be
laughed out of society--hopeless, indeed, would be his fate were he to
desire any other sort of asylum for his affections.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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