THE ELEVATOR.

"The elevator is worked by the weight of water; this necessitates there always being a sufficient supply in the tank at the top of the incline, which is pumped by a 12-horse-power steam pump from a large tank at the foot. The modus operandi is as follows: Suppose a person enters the car at the foot of the incline to be carried to the top, the bell-boy at once rings a bell to notify the brakesman to go ahead; weight is required to bring the car and passenger from the foot to the top, and both cars being built on tanks with necessary valves for the entrance of the water from the upper tank and for the exit of the same water when it reaches the bottom of the track, which the large tank below receives, the brakesman proceeds to open one of the water valves and allows sufficient water to enter the car tank until it outweighs the car and passengers at the foot; the cars are now supposed to be in motion, with the bell-boy at the foot and brakesman at the top of the incline, who duties are to watch that everything runs smoothly and that the track is clear of all obstructions.

Nothing can happen inside the cars during the transit that is not noticed by the employés; now let us suppose that while in motion one of the cables breaks, there is a second cable to take all the strain, which is never over five tons, and each cable will lift at least 30 tons, but should it happen by some extraordinary oversight that there existed flaws in the cables which had not been noticed, so that first one cable broke and then the second also broke, it would probably be thought that an accident must occur. No such catastrophe would happen, because under the cars and out of sight there are two enormously strong chisels bolted to the iron tank, and running within half an inch of the trestle work; immediately the strain is taken off the cables, or immediately the two cables break, the two chisels would enter the strong wooden beams that support the iron rails and hold the cars firmly in position. Finally, let us suppose that these chisels also gave way, it must be said surely an accident is now inevitable; but no, for at the top as well as at the foot of the track there are two air buffers, against which the cars strike on their ascent and descent.

So nicely adjusted are they, and so ingeniously are they constructed, that although the cars may descend with great force against these air buffers, the resistance being gradually developed as the air compresses, there will be but little, if any, extra shock. Should the brakesman happen to be absent from his post, we are informed by the Manager that no irregularities would occur in consequence, as a governor regulates the speed at which the cars are to go, and on their arrival the air buffers come into play and receive them. So well has the brakesman the cars under his control that at one stroke of the bell he can stop them instantaneously wherever they may be on the track. The brakes are arranged in such a way that it would seem to be quite impossible for both of them to be out of order at the same time; but even if they were, nothing could happen, as the air buffers would check the force of any extra shock.

It may be thought that an enormous quantity of water must be used to work this machinery, seeing that there is a 5,000 gallon water-tank at the top of the incline and a 10,000 gallon tank at the foot, but such is not the case, the water which is pumped up from the lower to the upper tank returns again to the lower one, and so the same water is used over and over again; indeed, the amount of water wasted is not nearly as much as is consumed by a private family. In confirmation of this statement, only a halt-inch tap is used to supply the tanks, and the Manager informs us that frequently for days together the tap is not turned on either at night or day."

How our worthy grandfathers would have shrugged their shoulders had such an innovation been mooted eighty years ago. The other mode of penetrating into the Lower Town is through that steep and tortuous hill—called Mountain Hill by the English, Côte de la Montagne by the French.

This is the hill which has re-echoed the tread of so many regiments, on which so many Governors, French and English, have, on divers occasions, heard themselves enthusiastically cheered by eager crowds; the hill which Viceroys of France and of England, from the ostentatious Marquis de Tracy to the proud Earl of Durham, ascended on their way to Government House, surrounded by their brilliant staffs and saluted by cannon and with warlike flourish of trumpets! In earlier times the military and religious display was blended with an aroma of literature and elaborate Indian oratory, combining prose and poetry.

Francis Parkman will tell us of what took place on the arrival, on the 28th July, 1658, of the Viscount D'Argenson, the Governor of the colony:— "When Argenson arrived to assume the government, a curious greeting had awaited him. The Jesuits asked him to dine; vespers followed the repast; and then they conducted him to a hall where the boys of their school— disguised, one as the Genius of New France, one as the Genius of the Forest, and others as Indians of various friendly tribes—made him speeches by turn, in prose and in verse. First, Pierre du Quet, who played the Genius of New France, presented his Indian retinue to the Governor, in a complimentary harangue. Then four other boys, personating French colonists, made him four flattering addresses, in French verse. Charles Denis, dressed as a Huron, followed, bewailing the ruin of his people, and appealing to Argenson for aid. Jean François Bourdon, in the character of an Algonquin, next advanced on the platform, boasted his courage, and declared that he was ashamed to cry like the Huron.

The Genius of the Forest now appeared, with a retinue of wild Indians from the interior, who, being unable to speak French, addressed the Governor in their native tongues, which the Genius proceeded to interpret. Two other boys in the character of prisoners just escaped from the Iroquois, then came forward imploring aid in piteous accents; and in conclusion the whole troop of Indians from far and near laid their bows and arrows at the feet of Argenson, and hailed him as their chief.

Besides these mock Indians, a crowd of genuine savages had gathered at Quebec to greet the new "Ononthio." On the next day—at his own cost, as he writes to a friend—he gave them a feast, consisting of seven large kettlesful of Indian corn, peas, prunes, sturgeon, eels and fat, which they devoured, he says, after having first sung me a song, after their fashion."

Probably one of the most gorgeous displays on record was that attending the arrival of the great Marquis of Tracy, in 1665. He came with a brilliant staff, a crowd of young nobles; and accompanied by two hundred soldiers, to be followed by a thousand more of the dashing regiment of Carignan-Salières. He sailed up the St. Lawrence, and on the 30th of June, 1665, anchored in the basin of Quebec. The broad, white standard, blazoned with the arms of France, proclaimed the representative of royalty; and Point Levi and Cape Diamond and the distant Cape Tourmente roared back the sound of saluting cannon. All Quebec was on the ramparts or at the landing place, and all eyes were strained at the two vessels as they slowly emptied their crowded decks into the boats alongside. The boats at length drew near, and the Lieutenant-General and his suite landed on the quay with a pomp such as Quebec had never seen before.

Tracy was a veteran of sixty-two, portly and tall, "one of the largest men I ever saw," writes Mother Mary (Marie de l'Incarnation), but he was sallow with disease, for fever had seized him, and it had fared ill with him on the long voyage. The Chevalier de Chaumont walked at his side, and young nobles surrounded him, gorgeous in lace and ribbons, and majestic in leonine wigs. Twenty-four guards in the King's livery led the way, followed by four pages and six valets; [82] and thus, while the Frenchmen shouted and the Indians stared, the august procession threaded the streets of the Lower Town, and climbed the steep pathway that scaled the cliffs above. Breathing hard, they reached the top, passed on the left the dilapidated walls of the Fort and the shed of mingled wood and masonry which then bore the name of the Castle de St. Louis; passed on the right the old house of Couillard and the site of Laval's new Seminary, and soon reached the square betwixt the Jesuit College and the Cathedral.

The bells were ringing in a frenzy of welcome. Laval in pontificals, surrounded by priests and Jesuits, stood waiting to receive the Deputy of the King, and as he greeted Tracy and offered him the holy water, he looked with anxious curiosity to see what manner of man he was. The signs were auspicious. The deportment of the Lieutenant-General left nothing to desire. A prie-dieu had been placed for him. He declined it. They offered him a cushion, but he would not have it, and fevered as he was, he knelt on the bare pavement with a devotion that edified every beholder. Te Deum was sung and a day of rejoicing followed. [83]

In our day, we can recall but one pageant at all equal: the roar of cannon, &c., attending the advent of the great Earl of Durham, [84] but there were noticeable fewer "priests," fewer "Jesuits," and less "kneeling" in the procession. There was something oriental in the vice- regal pageantry. Line-of-battle ships—stately frigates, twelve in number —the Malabar, Hastings, Cornwallis, Inconstant, Hercules, Pique, Charybdis, Pearl, Vestal, Medea, Dee and Andromache visited that summer our shores, a suitable escort to the able, proud, humane, [85] but unlucky Viceroy and High Commissioner, with his clever advisers—the Turtons, Bullers, Wakefields, Hansomes, Derbyshires, Dunkins, cum multis aliis. The Dictator was determined to "make a country or mar a career." He has left us a country.

That warlike, though festive summer of 1838, with our port studded with three-deckers and spanking frigates, was long remembered in the annals of the bon ton. Some men-of-war were in especial favour. A poetical lament by the Quebec ladies was wafted to the departing officers of H. M. frigate Inconstant, the words by the Laureate of the period, George W. Wicksteed, of Ottawa. This effusion includes the names of every vessel in the fleet in italics, and of several of the officers.

THE LADIES' ADDRESS TO THE INCONSTANTS. Written by G. W. Wicksteed.

We saw the Hastings hasting off,

And never made a fuss.

The Malabar's departure waked

No malady in us.

We were not piqued to lose the Pique;

Each lady's heart at ease is,

Altho' the Dees are on the seas,

And gone the Hercules—es.

Our parting with the Andromache

Like Hector's not at all is;

Nor are we Washingtons to seek

To capture a Cornwallis.

And no Charybdis ever caught

Our hearts in passion's whirls;

There's not a girl among us all

Has ever fished for Pearls.

The Vestals with their sacred flame

Were not the sparks we wanted;

We've looked Medeas in the face,

And yet were not enchanted.

But when our dear Inconstants go,

Our grief shall know no bounds,

The dance shall have no joy for us,

The song no merry sounds.

All dismal then shall be the waltz,

The dull quadrille as bad,

And wearily we'll hurry through

The joyless galopade.

We'll gaze upon each changeful cloud

As through the air it skims,

We'll think of fickle fortune's wheel,

And fashion's turns and whims—

Sweet emblems of Inconstancy

In each of these we'll find,

And our Inconstants constantly

We'll fondly bear in mind.

And spite of Durham's fetes and balls,

We'll pine and mourn and mope

Our long, long winter season through,

As girls without a Hope.

And when the spring shall come again,

Our hearts, to pleasure dead,

Shall sigh for spring without an S,

And wish for Pring instead.

Unless, indeed, sweet spring with Hope

Those hearts again should bless,

And bring our dear Inconstants back,

And spring without an S.

Quebec, 6th July, 1838.

(From Waifs in Verse, by G. W. Wicksteed, Q. C., Law Clerk, House of

Commons of Canada, 1878.)

To which melting address the "Inconstants," on their way to Britain, feelingly replied. Our space allows us to insert but a few stanzas of this poetical lament.

All language fails to tell how much

We value your address,

Or say how deeply we partake

The feelings you express.

Those Hastings are a hasty set,

And left you in a hurry;

Those Malabars are malapert,

And hot as Indian curry.

Be true, and then the breath of May

Shall fill our sails and bring

Our willing steps and eager hearts,

And Spring—and Pring—and Ring.

And each of you for one of ours

Shall change her maiden name,

And as we are all Inconstants, you

Of course will be the same.

Kamouraska, August, 1838.

Here we stand on the principal artery of the commerce of the city, St. Peter street, having a width of only twenty-four feet. St. Peter street is probably not so ancient as its sister, Sault-au-Matelot street. St. Peter street was so named in memory of Messire Pierre le Voyer d'Argenson, who, in 1658, came to Quebec as successor to M. de Lauzon. M. d'Argenson was, in 1661, succeeded by the Baron d'Avaugour.

On the site on which the Quebec Bank [86] was erected in 1863, there stood the offices, the vaults, and the wharf of the well-known merchant, John Lymburner. There were three Lymburners: John, lost at sea in the fall of 1775, Mathew, and Adam, the most able of the three; they were, no doubt related to each other. The loyalty of Adam, towards the British Crown, in 1775, was more than suspected; his oratorical powers, however, and his knowledge of constitutional law, made him a fit delegate to England in 1791, to plead the cause of the colony before the Metropolitan authorities. His speech on the occasion is reported in the Canadian Review, published at Montreal in 1826.

Colonel Henry Caldwell states that, in 1775, Governor Guy Carleton had ordered a cannon to be pointed from the wharf on which stood Lymburner's house, with the intention to open fire upon the Bostonais, should they attempt a surprise on the Sault-au-Matelot quarter. Massive and strongly built stone vaults (probably of French origin), are still extant beneath the house adjoining, to the south of this last, belonging to the heirs Atkinson.

On the site of the offices of Mr. McGie stood, in 1759, the warehouse of M. Perrault, l'aîné, from a great number of letters and invoice-bills found in the garret, and which a friend [87] has placed at our disposal, it would seem that M. Perrault had extensive commercial relations both in Canada and in France. A curious letter to M. Perrault, from Bigot's notorious councillor, Estebe, then in Bordeaux, was found in this tenement. It discloses a sad state of things in Old France. This old document dates of 24th February, 1760, a few months subsequent to the Battle of the Plains and a few weeks prior to that of Ste. Foye, in April, 1760.

"BORDEAUX, 24th February, 1760.

"To Monsieur Perrault,

Quebec:

"SIR,—It was with heartfelt pleasure I received your favour of the 7th November last, since, in spite of your misfortunes, it apprized me of the fact that both you and your lady were well.

"I feel grateful for the sympathy you express in our troubles during our passage from Quebec to Bordeaux. I wish I could as easily forget the misfortunes of Canada as I do the annoyances we suffered on the voyage.

"We learned, via England, by the end of October last, the unfortunate fate of Quebec. You can imagine how we felt on hearing of such dreadful news I could contain neither my tears nor my regrets on learning the loss of a city and country to which I owe everything, and to which I am as sincerely attached as any of the natives. We flattered ourselves that the silence the English had kept during all last summer on their operation was of good omen for us, and that they would be ignominiously compelled to raise the siege; we had even an indistinct knowledge of the repulse they had met with at Montmorency (31st July, 1759); we knew that our troops followed them closely wherever they attempted to land. We have erred like you in the hopes we cherished. What fatality, what calamity and how many events unknown to us have led to your downfall? You do not know, my dear Sir, of the extent of your misfortunes. You imagine that the loss of the remainder of the colony is close at hand. You are right. This cannot be otherwise, since the relief which is sent to you from France cannot prevent that.

The small help which Canadians expected from the payment of some Treasury notes is taken away from them; none are paid since the 15th of October last. This, then, is the overwhelming blow to all our hopes! The Treasury notes of the other colonies are generally in the same predicament; the King pays none, and the nation groans under taxation. No credit, no confidence, anywhere; no commerce nor shipments; a general bankruptcy in all the cities of France. The kingdom is in the greatest desolation possible. Our armies have been beaten everywhere; our navy no more exists—our ships have been either captured or burnt on the coasts where the enemy has driven them ashore, Admiral de Conflans having been defeated in getting out of the harbor of Brest. In one word, we are in a state of misery and humiliation without precedent. The finances of the King are in fearful disorder; he has had to send his plate to the Mint. The Seigneurs have followed his example, and private individuals are compelled to sell their valuables in order to live and pay the onerous taxes which weigh on them. At the present moment, by Royal order, an inventory is being taken of the silver of all the churches of the kingdom.

No doubt it will have to be sent to the Mint, and payment will be made when that of the Treasury notes takes place—that is, when it pleases God. Such is a summary of what now occurs here. How I regret, my dear Sir, the merry days I spent in Canada! I would like to be there still if matters were as formerly. I could own a turn-out there, whereas I go on foot, like a dog, through the mud of Bordeaux, where I certainly do not live in the style I did in Quebec. Please God this iron age may soon end! We flattered ourselves this winter that peace would soon be proclaimed; it is much talked of, but I see no signs of it. It will, it is said, require another campaign to complete the ruin, and to postpone more and more the payment of the Treasury notes. What will be the ultimate fate of these bills is very hard to say. It is unlikely any settlement of them will be made before peace is concluded. My opinion is that nothing will be lost on the bills, which are registered, but I cannot say the same of the exchange, which is not registered, since payment has been stopped. The Government has refused to register any bills, even some which had been sent to me, and which were payable in 1758.

I negotiated some registered ones here and in Paris at 50 per cent.discount. Non-registered ones are valueless, and you get few purchasers even for registered bills. Four richly laden vessels belonging to the West India Company (Compagnie des Indes) have arrived lately. This was very opportune, as the Company was rather shaky. However, it never failed to pay the "Beaver Bills," and has even accepted those which had not yet fallen due. Our affairs on the coast of Coromandel are like the rest—in a bad way. Fears are entertained for Pondicherry. The English are arming a large expedition for Martinique. That island will have the same fate as Guadeloupe. The succor sent out to you, if ever it reaches you, of which I doubt, consists in six merchant ships, laden with 1,600 tons of provisions, some munitions of war, and 400 soldiers from Isle Royal. I believe this relief is sent to you more through a sense of honour than from any desire (as none exists) to help you. Many flatter themselves you will retake Quebec this winter. I wish you may, but I do not believe you will. This would require to be undertaken by experienced and determined men, and even then such attempts fail.

[88] Remember me to your dear wife. Kiss my little friend (your boy) for me. I reserve him when he comes to France a gilt horse and a silver carriage. My wife and family beg to be remembered.