is attention,--bang he goes into the tunneled
bowels of the earth; a magnificent panorama enchants his sight as he
emerges from the realms of darkness; he calls to a neighbour to share
the enjoyment of the lovely scene with him; the last sounds of the call
have not died away, ere he finds himself wedged in between two
embankments, with nought else but the sky for the eye to rest on. Is it
any wonder, then--nay, rather, is it not an evidence of
truthfulness--that I find the record of my journey thus described in my
note-book:--"7-1/2 A.M., Fizz, fizz; hiss, hiss--waving
fields--undulating ground--sky--varied tints of green--cottages, cattle,
humanities--bridges, bays, rivers, dust, and heat--Rouse's Point, 7-1/2
P.M." At this point we got out of the cage and embarked in a steamer.
The shroud of night hung heavily around us, and the lights of Montreal
and its suburbs, reflected in the unruffled stream, shone all the
brighter from the density of the surrounding darkness, and formed a
brilliant illumination. In half an hour I was comfortably housed in the
hotel, where, to my agreeable surprise, I met one of my countrywomen,
whose many charms had made her a theme of much admiration at Washington,
where I first had the pleasure of making her acquaintance.

Any one who, wandering far from home, finds himself surrounded with
utter strangers, will partially understand the pleasure I enjoyed at
finding one face I had looked upon before; but to understand it fully,
they must know the face I was then gazing upon. Don't be curious,
reader, as to whom it belonged, for I have no intention of enlightening
you, further than to say it belonged to her and her husband. Twelve
hours of railway makes me sleepy; it's my nature, and I can't help it,
so I trust I may be excused, when I confess that I very soon exchanged
the smile of beauty for the snore of Morpheus. What my dreams were, it
concerns nobody to know.

The magnificent brow of hill which overhangs Montreal was named in 1535
Mont Royal, by the famous Jacques Cartier, in honour of his royal
master; the French settlement which arose a century after, in the
neighbourhood of the Indian village of Hochelaga, assumed the name of
the hill, and has at last shaken down into its present combination. What
Goths, not to preserve the Indian name which savours of the land and of
antiquity, instead of substituting a French concoction! With regard to
the site of the town, there is no doubt it is on