Duffer1n Terrace And Lower Town.
Closely associated with these devoted spirits in the stupendous work of christianizing Canada were also many pious women. It was a niece of Richelieu who founded in Quebec the first Canadian hospital; and scores of French nuns gave up all that this world held for them of peace and comfort, to cross the sea and minister to the sick of an unknown and savage land. Young, rich, and beautiful women came out joyfully to what, at that time, was a life far worse than any missionaries of to-day endure, who go to countries where the people to whom they preach are comparatively civilized, and have at least a form of government, and where the chiefs of Christendom demand the restitution of their property, if it is destroyed, and retribution for their sufferings or death. Nor is it possible, while lingering here, to forget Wolfe, Montcalm, and Montgomery, the representative leaders of England, France, and the United States in the great struggles which these nations made to gain possession of this stoned rock, which the brave trio stained with their life's blood, and consecrated by their death. Filled with such thoughts, we seem to see the forms of those whose glorious deeds have added lustre to the history of Quebec emerge from the deep shadows of the bastions, and pass us, one by one, like phantoms. One of them only seems to halt, and to await us motionless, as we advance along the terrace, and stand before the Chateau Frontenac. It is the figure of the founder of Quebec, Cham plain. He well deserves the honor of a monument in bronze. For, although Cartier discovered the unrivaled site, and passed here a long winter of extreme privation, he practically did no more than call the attention of his followers to the spot; and seventy-three more years elapsed before Champlain, in 1608, established in the shadow of Cape Diamond his little colony, and on its summit flung to the breezes of a virgin continent the white flag of the Bourbons.
Old st. John's gate, Quebec.
View From Dufferin Terrace.
Champlain was remarkable even in that age of heroes. Born in a small town by the restless billows of the Bay of Biscay, his life was one of constant labor, exploration, and selfsacrifice.
A score of times he had to cross the North Atlantic, breasting its storms in vessels far too frail for such rough work, to plead the cause of Canada to stupid or indifferent hearers, and to endeavor to repair the faults committed by the royal favorites. Most of his time, however, was spent in the unbroken wilderness, investigating, conquering, and annexing sections of the New World to French sovereignty, till he became as thoroughly familiar with the ways of Huron chiefs and the strange dialect of the Iroquois, as with the compliments and ceremonies of the court at Fon-tainebleau.
It would have been a fitting tribute to Champlain to have called the place of his creation after him; but the old Indian title has adhered to it, and only two streets in the Lower Town now bear his name, one of which, very insignifi cant in appearance, ends in the Break-neck Stairs. Moreover, though he was buried somewhere in the town, his resting-place has been forgotten; and, since the records of Quebec were burned in the great fire of 1640, no story of his funeral has come down to us. It matters not. His monument is the imperishable rock, on which he sleeps within an unknown grave. His epitaph is the eulogy of history.
The Champlain Monument.
Little Champlain Street.
The noble lake, which he discovered eleven years before the landing of the Puritans, and which is now included in the limits of the neighboring republic, will guard his name in its blue depths for generations yet unborn. But his securest claim to immortality is the great city which he founded, and which will never cease to be associated with him so long as the St. Lawrence journeys toward the sea.