How Canada Was Won: A Tale of Wolfe and QuebecBrereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
History
How Canada Was Won: A Tale of Wolfe and Quebec
Brereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
United States -- History -- French and Indian War, 1754-1763 -- Juvenile fiction
"A jewel than which there is none more beautiful in the crown of
France," said the colonel, as he pointed out the various places to
Steve. "Quebec is the most regal-looking city I have ever seen, and I
never know whether she looks best as we see her now, with the spring
sunshine smiling on her, or in the winter, when she is clad in her
mantle of white. Monsieur, this struggle between our two nations may
end in victory for England, but whatever happens, this jewel I am
showing you will never fall. Quebec is impregnable. Look east and west
and you will see why I am so confident."
It seemed indeed as if no other opinion could have been given, for
as Steve approached this fair Canadian city he, too, declared to
himself that nothing but starvation could cause it to surrender. For
Quebec stands on a steep promontory, as has been described, and has
to its immediate east the river St. Charles, and beyond that again a
long ridge continuing for some six miles and ending abruptly in the
beautiful falls of Montmorency, at that time of the year in their
full grandeur, for the melted snow and ice had added to the volume of
the river. This ridge, which was the southern extremity of an upland
plateau, fell sheer into the river, and a glance at it was sufficient
to discover the obstacles which would at once confront any foe bold
or rash enough to attempt to clamber to the top. Standing on that
same ridge on many a day after, Steve looked down upon the garden of
Canada, the Isle of Orleans, which the first navigator of the mighty
St. Lawrence had called the Island of Bacchus.
To the west Quebec is even more strongly protected by natural
obstacles, for the ridge on the edge of which the fair city is built
runs westward for many miles, falling almost perpendicularly into the
river, while the St. Lawrence, just opposite the town, is suddenly
constricted by a projecting spit of land, known as Point Lévis, which
narrows the bed till it is barely three-fourths of a mile across, a
distance which the French rightly considered could be commanded by
their batteries.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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