To hasten the speed of their horses they have three expressions, rising above each other in a regular climax. The first, “Marche,” is pronounced in the usual tone of voice; “Marche-donc,” the second, is pronounced more hastily and louder; if the horse is dull enough not to comprehend this, then the “Marche-donc,” accompanied with one of Sterne’s magical words, comes out, in the third place, in a shrill piercing key, and a smart lash of the whip follows. From the frequent use made by the drivers of these words, the calashes have received the nick-name of “marche-doncs.” The first post house is nine miles from Quebec, which our drivers, of their own accord, managed to reach in one hour. No sooner were we in sight of it, than the postmaster, his wife in her close French cap, and all the family, came running out to receive us. The foremost driver, a thin fellow of about six feet high, with a queue bound with eel skins that reached the whole way down his back, immediately cracked his whip, and having brought his calash to the door, with a great air he leapt out, bowed respectfully at a distance to the hostess, then advancing with his hat off, paid her a few compliments, and kissed both her cheeks in turn, which she presented to him with no small condescension. Some minutes are generally spent thus at every post house in mutual congratulations on meeting, before the people ever think of getting a fresh carriage ready. The road between Quebec and Montreal runs, for the most part, close upon the banks of the River St. Lawrence, through those beautiful little towns and villages seen to so much advantage from the water; and as the traveller passes along, he is entertained with prospects, if possible, superior to those which strike the attention in sailing down the river. For the first thirty or forty miles in the way from Quebec, the views are in particular extremely grand. The immense River St. Lawrence, more like a lake confined between ranges of mountains than a river, appears at one side rolling under your feet, and as you look down upon it from the top of the lofty banks, the largest merchant vessels scarcely seem bigger than fishing boats; on the other side, deep mountains, skirted with forests, present themselves to the view at a distance, whilst, in the intermediate space, is seen a rich country, beautifully diversified with whitened cottages and glittering spires, with groves of trees and cultivated fields, watered by innumerable little streams: groups of the peasantry, busied as we passed along in getting in the harvest, which was not quite over, diffused an air of cheerfulness and gaiety over the scene, and heightened all its charms. [Sidenote: FEMALE PEASANTS.]