Hotel Frontenac, Quebec City, Que.
Sun., Oct. 10, 1926
Mother Wilson and Dr. Strobel have sold their houseboat and are now living in New York but they came up to her father’s home in East Dorset, Vt., to see the autumn foliage. As they had never been in my family’s old house in Manchester, I promised to show them through the dwelling on Wednesday, the day we were leaving. It so delayed us that we were unable to reach Aunt Lilian’s camp in northern Vermont that night.
About thirty miles south of Keysville, we tried out our new “Pullman” sleeping arrangements in the Dodge, which all worked well. The next day we had a good visit with Aunt Lilian and Shirley, who insisted we stay for lunch at their attractively located camp.
Thrilled at crossing the border into Canada, we spent the next night at a real French tavern in the small town of La Prairie, just this side of Montreal. Traveling in Quebec is terribly expensive; gas is anywhere from 34¢ to 39¢ a gallon, oil 45¢ a quart, cigarettes 55¢ to 90¢ a pack; every few miles there is a toll bridge or an expensive ferry to cross. Montreal is on an island and you can’t leave without spending at least 60¢.
At first, from the border to La Prairie, it was like traveling in the south again. The weather was warm; the farmers lived in log cabins and used mules instead of horses; pigs and sheep, roaming wild, ran across the roads. But the St. Lawrence Valley is more prosperous, with its well-kept farms, painted houses and long, whitewashed barns with red doors and window frames. Many of the houses are charming, but there are a number of hideous, square pillboxes with flat roofs, cheap tin sheathing over all and “fancy” filigree trimming at the cornices. And the churches! Even the smallest town supports a most impressive edifice and church spires beckon the traveler from one town to the next. Wayside crosses and shrines appear every few miles and priests and monks are seen everywhere.
As we crossed the St. Lawrence River from Sorel to Berthier, a real old-world monk with a most kindly, lovable face was aboard the steamer, barefooted except for sandals, and wearing a long brown coarse cloth gown with a hood and a rope girdle, his head shaved except for a crown of hair around the rim of his scalp. He constantly said his beads and read from his prayer book. We have since seen several others like him. Perhaps because it is so unfamiliar, it all seems quaint and interesting.