Joking apart, is there not a formidable difficulty besetting our path--the insipidity and monotony inseparable from the necessity which will devolve on us of having constantly to discover new beauties in spots identical in their main features; and should we, in order to vary the theme, mix up the humorous with the rural, the historical, or the antiquarian style, may not fun and humour be mistaken for satire--a complimentary notice for flattery, above all others, a thing abhorrent to our nature? But 'tis vain to argue. That fatal "yes" has been uttered, and no true knight goes back from his plighted word. There being no help, we devoutly commend our case to St. Columba, St. Joseph, and the archangel St. Michel, the patrons of our parish, and set to our task, determined to assume a wide margin, draw heavily on history, and season the whole with short anecdotes and glimpses of domestic life, calculated to light up the past and present. O critic, who would fain seek in "Our Parish"--in our homes--great architectural excellence, we beseech you to pause! for the majority of them no such pretension is set up. Nowhere, indeed, on our soil are to be found ivied ruins, dating back to doomsday book, moated castle, or mediaeval tower. We have no Blenheims, no Walton Halls, nor Chatsworths, nor Woburn abbeys, nor Arundel castles, to illustrate every style of architectural beauty, rural embellishment, and landscape. A Dainpierre, a Rochecotte, a LaGaudinière, may suit old France: they would be lost in New France. Canadian cottages, the best of them, are not the stately country homes of "Old pheasant-lords, ... Partridge-breeders of a thousand years," typifying the accumulated wealth of centuries or patrician pride; nor are they the gay _châteaux_ of _La Belle France_. In the Canada of the past, we could--in many instances we had to--do without the architect's skill; nature having been lavish to us in her decorations, art could be dispensed with. Our country dwellings possess attractions of a higher class, yea, of a nobler order, than brick and mortar moulded by the genius of man can impart. A kind Providence has surrounded them in spring, summer and autumn with scenery often denied to the turreted castle of the proudest nobleman in Old England. Those around Quebec are more particularly hallowed by associations destined to remain ever memorable amongst the inhabitants of the soil.