On reaching the north side of the river, on which Quebec stands, we got into an omnibus and drove up streets of a most tremendous ascent; it was really quite alarming, as the pavement was in the most dreadful state, and the omnibus, which was very rickety, was crammed with passengers. Next morning we got up very early, and papa went out before breakfast to inquire for the letters which we expected to receive from England, but which had not yet arrived. After an early breakfast we went in an open carriage to the Falls of Montmorency, and I think I never had a more lovely drive. We passed through several most prosperous-looking villages, and between farm houses so closely adjoining each other as to give the appearance of a long suburb to the city. At Beauport, about half-way between Quebec and Montmorency, there is a splendid Roman Catholic church, which would do credit to any country. The inhabitants here and at Quebec generally are entirely French Canadians, and the driver here, as at Montreal, was quite in the Cohare[4] style for intelligence and respectable appearance. The falls of Montmorency are a little way off the road, and the approach to the top of the fall down a flight of wooden stairs is very easy. The river here descends in one great fall of 250 feet, and as the river is 60 feet wide, the proportion between the height and the breadth of the fall seems nearly perfect. It falls almost into the St. Lawrence, as it tumbles over the very bank of the latter river, and the view up and down the glorious St. Lawrence is here very beautiful. We were elevated so far above the bottom of the chasm that the spray apparently rose up only a short way, but it really does rise upwards of 150 feet, and in winter it freezes and forms a cone of ice exceeding 100 feet in height, which is said to present a most wonderful appearance.