Part 30

Wednesday, 10th.--I was this morning on deck by four A.M. and was well repaid for my early rising. We were some thirty miles distant from Montreal, as our pilot informed me: the land on either side was low, but soft, verdant, and well wooded, with the prettiest-looking villages dotted along from point to point. At times, three or four of these, with their triple-spired churches, were at once visible as we slowly steered through groups of islets of every form and size, but all of a colour of unequalled purity.

I cannot wonder at the rapturous language used in the description of these places by the sea-wearied discoverers who viewed them for the first time in the summer season; for even I, with no such spur to imagination, find it difficult to stick to sober prose when recalling the luxuriant growth of these isles of the far North. It would appear as though Nature, aware that the possession of beauty is with them extremely limited, had resolved, by way of compensation, to render their short-lived loveliness surpassing.

At last was seen, high towering over all, the rounded top of the fairest of the hundred isles of the St. Lawrence, St. Helen's; and, shortly after, the glittering domes of the city of Montreal gave warning that our up-voyage was drawing to a happy conclusion.

Thursday, 11th.--This morning took a farewell stroll over St. Helen's, which, on a surface of a mile in length by half a mile in breadth, has all the attractions Nature could devise scattered with a most liberal hand. It is shadowed and scented by a hundred sorts of odorous shrubs and flowers. The groves are filled with birds of beautiful plumage; the graceful blue bird, the enamelled hummer, and the cardinal, with his hood of the brightest scarlet, are for ever on the wing in pursuit of the shad-fly. The pert woodpecker climbs the trees, and along the shores sits the contemplative heron, watching the rapids flowing by, which are, during certain seasons, absolutely alive with fish.

In short, I cannot imagine a more perfect summer abode in such a climate. The aromatic air wafted into one's window on a morning here, made it a delight to open it. The chamber I occupied looked out upon the grassy rampart and over it, affording a sight of the city in its best aspect, and the noble river dividing us from it. Close opposite to my window was a winding path, completely shaded, which led from the fort to the little harbour where the island fleet lies moored; which fleet consisted at this time of an Indian canoe, the soldiers' large market-boat, and the officers' cutter. Some one or other of these were almost constantly on the wing between isle and main; and really it was worth while, once a day, to take a sniff of the fishy atmosphere of the hot city, in order fully to appreciate the advantages of the cool pure air of la belle ile.

At four P.M. after having taken leave of my island friends, whose attentions had rendered my stay here so delightful, I set off with my old comrade W----w, and Mr. E----r, who had decided upon accompanying me as far on my way as St. John's. We found the La Prairie steamboat quite crowded with the farmers of the continent, on their way home from the market of Montreal: amongst these were some French; but the majority was composed of lowland Scotch and Irish, with a fair proportion of Highlanders.

During our short passage I passed to and fro, below and above, amongst these various specimens of my fellow-subjects, but was at last fairly brought up by the look and gestures of a couple of men engaged in close argument.

The one was a person well stricken in years, with fine white hair straying beneath the broad leaf of his decent beaver hat; he had a keen small eye, well covered by a pair of thick grey eyebrows; with features much wrinkled, but full of intelligence: he was slightly humpbacked, and otherwise bent by the weight of years.

His antagonist was a low, square-built fellow, with a set of blunt features, quick sparkling little eyes, a ruddy complexion, and a broad low brow, over which was set, with a somewhat jaunty air, a blue bonnet. Both were evidently Scotch; the younger disputant, by his high shrill tone and peculiar pronunciation, a true Celt.

I soon discovered "the Glasgow body" was engaged in giving a lecture to the sturdy mountaineer upon the absolute folly of seeking to uphold exclusively the Gaelic tongue: the Highlander, who was head-vestryman in his parish, having, as it came out, lately advertised for a clergyman who could officiate in that ancient language. It may readily be supposed that between such disputants the argument was a warm one.

The Glasgow elder, slow, precise, and very energetic withal, insisted that the land they stood upon was no strangers' land; that they were not expected, like the Israelites of old whilst in a condition of bondage, to hold themselves a people apart; that the English tongue and English laws were lawfully theirs; and that those were the wisest men and the best subjects who learned the first in order that they might neither be ignorant nor forgetful of the last.

The hielan' man admitted, frigidly enough I thought, the present supremacy of English law and language, but insisted that the congregation upon their settlement absolutely needed a Gaelic pastor to preach the word, and no other; for, although all of them understood the Gaelic, full one half knew no word of English!

"More shame for them!" exclaimed the Glasgow man; "what for don't they learn it? Puir prejudiced bodies that they are!"

"What for no?" retorted quickly the nettled Highlander: "why, because they just prefer their ain: and I can't say I wonder at it all; for I know baith, and must aver, Mr. Dalgleish, that my preference is wholly for ta Gaelic, which is a finer language, and a petter and older language, and of a petter and an older nation by far."

"Hoot tout!" coolly responded old Glasgow; "Ye're just daft on thae points, Duncan M'Nab: why, man alive! yer' nae people at hame, much less here, where you are as the least plash flung from the paddle-wheel below us to the braid stream on which it drops to mingle with its waters; a lesson ye may tak profit by. Ye've neither country, nor laws, nor government that owns yer tongue on the whole face o' God's airth, if ever ye had either; whilst the laws and language o' England are at this time universal! ay, sir, universal, or at least mair sae than any one tongue ever yet was since the Lord made men strangers to their fellows at the confounding o' Babel."

"Ta Gaelic was spoken before tat day!" sharply bolted out M'Nab, "and was spoken since tat day by a bigger nation tan England ever was, or ever will be! Tak tat, now, Mr. Dalgleish!"

"Well now, see, Duncan M'Nab," continued the cooler Lowlander, in a tone provokingly unmoved; "that, I'm thinking, must be a matter o' doubt, rather than well-authenticated history; and before I either anger ye by contradicting it, or wrang my ain sense by allowing you the benefit o 't, I'll just seek counsel o' this gentleman, who evidently has a feelin' in our argument, although he taks no part in it by words. What say ye, sir?" he added, directly appealing to me; "shall we allow M'Nab's folk the credit o' havin' given a language to the world more universal than the English tongue?"

"I think you may, my good friend," replied I, thus engaged to speak, and in no way willing to spoil the controversy; "and this without losing any advantage by such an admission, seeing, that if the Gaelic were once so general, I don't think it a matter of credit or congratulation to its people that it is now extinguished, or only kept alive by the patriotic prejudices of a few clansmen in the Hielans and by the ignorance of my own countrymen in portions of Ireland."

"Ha!" cries Glasgow; "that's a hit, sir, and one that didna' occur to my mind! Now, M'Nab, how say ye to this? Why the deevil didna' ye keep yer ground that time ye had it all yer ain way, and no be lettin' strangers win it clean frae ye?"

"Ta' Gaelic was ta language o' Wallace and o' Bruce, and of Cyrus, who came before them," urged the Gael, hotly, "and who will say thae were easy to beat?"

"Who ever said that a Hielanman was easy to beat?" here cannily put in Glasgow: "not that I altogether allow Cyrus, or Wallace, or Bruce to ha' bin Hielanders; though I won't say that they didna' speak Gaelic: but fac's are ill to argue down, and the real fac' o' this matter is, M'Nab, that here Lowlander and Hielander are a' alike English, and it is not our duty alane, but our interest, to foregoe all thae hame prejudices, that have wrought us harm enough, and lang enough, without importing them here, to be left as an evil legacy to our children to keep them as strangers to ane anither."

"Look here, Mr. Dalgleish," demanded M'Nab, "do you admit your belief in election and free grace?"

At this I fairly bolted off the course; but in a few minutes after, whilst preparing to land at La Prairie, my old Glasgow-man sidled along by me, with an inquiry as to my pursuit and my name, in order, he added, that he might remember our pleasant argument, whispering in my ear as we separated,

"Hielanmen are aye weel enough in some particulars, sir; but they're just fairly eat up wi' pride and superstition, and fu' o' prejudices. At hame or abroad it's aye the like; they're of a race that can only be improved by amalgamation and time. I wish you a very pleasant passage hame, sir, and a good evening to you!"

Returning his civility, I was here separated from my elder. In about half an hour after I was about to quit the hotel, in the extra we had engaged for St. John's, when my Hielander, whose warm heart I had won by some honest commendation of his native country, ran up to me to shake hands, saying with a loud laugh,

"Ta old man was a good man, and a well-educated man; but a Glasgow is always a Glasgow; sell his web or his waens for ta money, and carein' as little for either kin or country as does ta cuckoo. God bless you, and if ever you should see Ben Nevis again, think on Duncan M'Nab that will see it no more."

Away ran the active Hielander, after his party, who were proceeding by the shore road, and in a few minutes my companions and myself were jolting at the rate of three miles and a half an hour over the ruts of La Prairie.

It is really surprising to observe how these sons of the Celt adhere to their native tongue, and preserve every early custom that is in any way practicable.