about the commodious harbor here, displays life and energy, and indicates the various commercial avocations of the people.

Leaving Toronto at sundown, the steamer passed out to the lake and into the night, so that all terrestrial things were soon invisible. There was an excellent piano on board, and a skillful, little French Canadian to use it. It added greatly to our enjoyment to have music's influence and power to cheer us over the waters.

They could

Very early in the morning, a stiff south-easter rolled the vessel to and fro, very much to the discomfort of the few who were so soon out of bed. neither sit, stand, nor lie-only fall down, and get half way up, to be pitched about miscellaneously. Quite a number of the passengers were sea-sick-some slovenly fellows on the lower deck, vomiting and swearing alternately!

At daylight, we entered the great St. Lawrence. Who has not heard of the "Thousand Islands?" Their grandeur can not be described. Indeed, the eye sees here a mingling of the grand and gentle-the romantic and the picturesque. On either side, before, and behind, are innumerable islands, covered with foliage drooping down to the water, the overhanging boughs moving gracefully to and fro, as they are washed by the current. Some few of these islands are composed of solid rock, overgrown with fine moss; some present abrupt sides of rock, gray and flinty, while grass and shrubbery grow luxuriantly over their tops. The steamer seemed to be in a wilderness of woods, with a hundred rivers spreading outward like paths of shining silver on every side. Here and there was seen a fisherman, as his canoe glided

silently along the waters, then was gone behind the leaves.

But the most exciting feature of a trip down the St. Lawrence is to pass over the famous "Rapids." The great rapids are Long Sault, the Coteau, the Cedars, the Cascades, and the Lachine.

The first of these is really thrilling to behold. The highest waves rise in the Lost or North channel. The sublime excitement of "shooting them," is greatly hightened by contrast. Before you reach them there is scarcely a breath of air stirring; every thing is calm and quiet, and the steamer glides as noiselessly and gently down the river, as if it were on the bosom of our own beautiful Ohio. Suddenly she enters a narrow channel, the waters of which are swift as arrows, yet she dashes through them in her lightning-way, and spurns the countless whirlpools beneath her. Forward, and close on either side are rocks, and precipices of water, and pyramidal breakers tossed high into the air. How shall we avoid being wrecked in that boiling abyss? But quick as thought, our obedient steamer mounts the wall of the waves and foam like a bird-now she ploughs headlong through a ridge of troubled waters, and now trembles in a trough of flashing foam, strikes a contending wave again so violently that sheets of water glance to the upper deck, then lands you a moment afterwards adown the calm, unruffled river!

When within thirty miles of Montreal, the high mountain from which the city takes its name appears in view. It is a real mount- -a Mont-real, and no mistake. An hour's steaming more, and the evening shades gather everywhere, but not so densely as to hide from the gaze

of the wondering traveler that stupendous structure, Victoria Bridge, an everlasting piece of masonry and wrought-iron, spanning the broad St. Lawrence at Montreal. The bridge is nearly two miles long, and stands on twenty-five substantial pillars of stone. The superstructure is of iron-not a stick of timber is in the entire bridge! But the narrow streets and tall palaces of the city are at hand!

At nightfall our faithful steamer is safely moored to one of the magnificent piers of the city wharf, and I step into an omnibus for the hotel.

On Sabbath morning, at eight o'clock, I was delighted with a merry chime of church-bells rung from the Catholic Cathedral, near our hotel. I had a curiosity to look inside of the largest church on the American Continent, and determined to go over and see it. Surely the architecture of this edifice is unequalled in strength, massiveness, and beauty. From the outside it looks like an immense, marble mountain, and the interior view reminds one of out-of-doors. I do not know the precise dimensions of this huge building, but am informed that eight thousand people can be comfortably seated within. The ceremonies of the service are peculiarly impressive, on account of the sweet sublimity of the music and organ.

I left this place of "unknown tongues" and unaccountable paraphernalia, and walked down street to an unpretending Protestant church, and entered there. I recognized a friend there with whom and his family I had made acquaintance on the steamer. Being early I passed the time in perusing a hymn-book that lay on the pew by my side. It was a collection used by the Bap