Previous to the year 1853, or thereabouts, there was no railroad below Quebec, and vehicles were the only means of transport; but when time and means permit, it is surely the most agreeable of all ways of travelling. We were frequent visitors at Crane Island, and our downward drive to St. Thomas, where we took sail boat to cross, were in the habit of stopping at various way-side houses, not inns, simply neat commodious places where we were always expected and welcomed, and sure of a meal and bed. One of these was the Fraser House at Beaumont: it still exists, but sadly deteriorated, and occupied by a French farmer and family. It is a very long low house in a very small quiet country village, prettily situated with a view of the St. Lawrence. On one occasion my husband and myself drove up to the door. "Welcome!" (we were frequent visitors) "but it is well you did not come a few days sooner. Who do you think has just left? Lord and Lady Elgin,"—and I forget whether she said any children. "Come, and I’ll show you the room as I arranged it for Lady Elgin." If you have never, my readers, seen a genuine old-fashioned habitant bedstead, I would almost fail to impress you with its height; you could not possibly get into it without standing on a chair, and two of these were placed side by side, taking in one whole side of a room, with the long white curtains pendant from a rod attached to the ceiling. I can hardly think of it now without smiling. Of course, it must have been for the novelty of the thing that Lady Elgin used it instead of having one brought from Quebec. Perhaps one gets so tired of formality and grandeur, a change becomes a welcome relief. We said we had but twenty minutes to stay, and must have lunch at once. In about ten minutes we had a most delicious fricassee of chicken in white sauce. On complimenting Mrs. Fraser, she said, "I learnt how to make that from Lord Elgin’s cook, and was I not smart? those chickens were running about when you came." That spoilt all, ah—if she only had not told us? There are numerous pretty villages all along the south shore. None prettier than that of St. Michel, adjacent to Beaumont. It much resembles Kamouraska, though much prettier as the foliage is so lovely. *ST. MICHEL.* St. Michel is a delightful summer residence, about fifteen miles from Quebec, reached directly by steamer every day, or by railroad a few miles from the village.