interest in keeping its finger upon the locality, and not a man was living who had personal knowledge of the event. It is probable that the northern suburbs of the city now cover the locality, and that the place is not far from the present Longueuil ferry-landing. Having accomplished my errand at Montreal, we departed for Quebec toward evening, in the fine steamer _John Munn_, accompanied by our Burlington friends of the morning. The magnificent stone quays were crowded with people, and our boat had a full complement of passengers. At the lower end of St. Helen's we entered the St. Mary's Rapids, and, darting past Longueuil, were soon out of sight of the spires of Montreal. The banks of the river are low, and on either side villages and cultivated fields exhibited an ever-changing and pleasing panorama. Beloeil Mountain loomed up eastward of us, and the white chapel, the pedestal of the bishop's huge eross upon the loftiest summit, sparkled like a star in the beams of the setting sun. It was twilight when we arrived at William Henry, or Sorel, an old town, forty-five miles below Montreal, at the mouth of the Richelieu or Sorel River. A * Several hundred of the militia, regardless of order, took the nearest route to their respective homes in New England and New York. About three hundred arrived in a body at Ticonderoga, and, flinging their heavy packs over their shoulders, crossed the lake on the ice, and traversed the wilderness through the deep snow to their homes in New Hampshire, Massachusetts, and Connecticut. It was an undertaking quite as perilous as the siege of Quebec. The endearments of home were the goal of the one, military glory was that of the other. The choice, though not creditable to them as patriots, deserves our respectful homage. Arrival at-Sorel.--Voyage down the St. Lawrence.--Morning View of Quebec.--The Walla ol Quebeo. 183French engineer named Sorel built a fort there as early as 1665, and the present town occupies its site. Our boat tarried there an hour for passengers and freight, but it grew too dark to see much of the town. A motley group crowded the narrow wharf, and when we left, the forward deck was covered with cabbages, leeks, and onions for the Quebec market, which afforded perfume gratuitously for the whole boat.