e and Vermont, that make him wish for a fuller
view. It is always a pleasure to bring to pass the geography of one's
boyhood; 'tis like the fulfilling of a dream; hence it was with partial
eyes that I looked upon the Merrimac, the Connecticut, and the
Passumpsic,--dusky, squaw-colored streams, whose names I had learned so
long ago. The traveler opens his eyes a little wider when he reaches
Lake Memphremagog, especially if he have the luck to see it under such
a sunset as we did, its burnished surface glowing like molten gold.
This lake is an immense trough that accommodates both sides of the
fence, though by far the larger and longer part of it is in Canada. Its
western shore is bold and picturesque, being skirted by a detachment of
the Green Mountains, the main range of which is seen careering along
the horizon far to the southwest; to the east and north, whither the
railroad takes you, the country is flat and monotonous.

The first peculiarity one notices about the farms in this northern
country is the close proximity of the house and barn, in most cases the
two buildings touching at some point,--an arrangement doubtless
prompted by the deep snows and severe cold of this latitude. The
typical Canadian dwelling-house is also presently met with on entering
the Dominion,--a low, modest structure of hewn spruce logs, with a
steep roof (containing two or more dormer windows) that ends in a smart
curve, a hint taken from the Chinese pagoda. Even in the more costly
brick or stone houses in the towns and vicinity this style is adhered
to. It is so universal that one wonders if the reason of it is not in
the climate also, the outward curve of the roof shooting the sliding
snow farther away from the dwelling. It affords a wide projection, in
many cases covering a veranda, and in all cases protecting the doors
and windows without interfering with the light. In the better class of
clapboarded houses the finish beneath the projecting eaves is also a
sweeping curve, opposing and bracing that of the roof. A two-story
country house, or a Mansard roof, I do not remember to have seen in
Canada; but in places they have become so enamored of the white of the
snow that they even whitewash the roofs of their buildings, giving a
cluster of them the impression, at a distance, of an encampment of
great tents.

As we neared Point Levi, opposite Quebec, we got our first view of the
St. Lawrence. "Iliad of rivers!" exclaimed my friend. "Yet uns