dents in it. They came here from the States and from Europe. It is the most famous College of Catholics in America. The course of instruction embraces seven years, and is very thorough. Men are fitted for all professions; but I can see the young priests walking out in the gardens with their black surplices and bands trimmed in white and their black caps on. Every once in a while yesterday (Sunday,) I could hear the College halls resound with the chantings of many voices. I suppose they were engaged in their devotions. Hon. Edward Kavanagh, our late honest Governor, was educated here. They are building a new Jesuit's College in the city, up towards Mount Real; it is to be a branch of the old hive. The edifice is to be a splendid one. The Gray Nunnery is near the old College, within sight of my window, and directly opposite the ruins of the Parliament House which was burnt by the Rebels. It is enclosed by a high stone fence, and looks like a State Prison. Finding a gate open I ventured into the yards and gardens yesterday towards nightfall. Of course I could see none of the Nuns. Another Nunnery is on St. Paul's street; and is called the Black Nunnery, in allusion to the color of the dresses of the nuns. The gray nuns officiate in the hospital in taking care of the sick and the black nuns are devoted to education. There is also a Congregational Nunnery, in connection with the great French church on Notre Dame street, But we must not mistake this for a Congregationalist Nunnery. I hope to get an opportunity to visit some of these establishments in course of the day. I must leave for Quebec to-night. I am sorry there is no day-boat that goes down the river, for I am told the scenery is the most grand of any in America. I shall lose all of that which is passed in the night time, but shall have several hours of morning light above Quebec. I have been about town this forenoon and find Mon treal a busy place. Some of its streets are paved with stone, more with wooden blocks, and more yet are McAdamized. None of them, however, are in very good repair. The frost has evidently done hard service to them. Most of the sidewalks are plank, but in good condition. There are many fine stores in the city, and the merchants and clerks are accomplished in their trade. I noticed several splendid buildings as I passed about town, amongst which is the British Bank of North America, the Montreal Bank, &c. Most of the language I hear spoken is French-Canadian French. The boys at their play, the girls as they promenade the streets, and the clerks as they wait on customers, for the most part jabber in what I cannot understand. Montreal was originally established by the French, and retains its primitive character, maugre the English government that controls it. The view from the Mountain in rear of the city is doubtless very fine; and if I can contrive to get on to it this afternoon, I must. It overlooks the whole city, the St. Lawrence river above and below, the adjacent country north, and the Ottoway river and passing up it, we see the estates and valley there; and in mansions of the dons of the city and the dignitaries of the British Government. The top of the mountain is a dense forest, and there is a Hotel in the midst of it. It is a luxury to be put up at a good Temperance House. Since I left Boston, till I reached Montreal, I found nothing but rum taverns, and open bars in hotels and steamers; but friend Duclos is a religious man, a moral man, and of course a Temperance man; and I have seen no rum, nor heard any profane language since I have occupied his premises; this is no place for loafers and rowdies. His house has none but neat, orderly and intelligent patrons. I not only feel quieter, but decidedly safer thus lodged. I hear much praise accorded to Maine here, for the passage of the late liquor law and its approval by Gov. Hubbard. It is believed Maine can lead off as well as any State; and if she asserts the sovereignty of her Laws, and maintains them, her example will have a thrilling effect all over the Union, and all over the world. Gov. Hubbard is just the man to tell the people they must obey the Laws. I feel proud of my State, and hope that the motto on her coat of Arms - will be main 66 Dirigo" - tained, not only politically, but educationally and morally. The Star in the East should lead the way, and guide the wise men of our nation to the place where Wisdom and Virtue are born. LETTER IV. DESCRIPTION OF QUEBEC. The longest day in the writer's life— Where Montgomery fell-Wolfe's Cove - The Citadel, or Gibraltar of America- The River St. Lawrence - Plains of Abraham - The Lower Town-Shores of the St. Lawrence and St. Charles-Ships in Quebec- Walls of the City - Suburbs -Spot where Wolfe fell - His Monument and Inscription - Visit to the Citadel-Scotch Highland Regiment-An Artillery Regiment saluting the Queen's ascension Streets. Shops, Taverns and Churches ---Proportion of Catholics Fires and Plague in Quebec - Ship-building and Navigation - Account of Montgomery's death. QUEBEC JUNE 21, 1852. THIS is the longest day in the year, mer solstice, and the longest day of being the Sum any year that I ever saw. Quebec is in latitude, north 46 deg. 49 m., consequently, between sunrise and sunset, there lack but 18 minutes of 16 hours. Byron, in his Don Juan, said the moon, modest as she is, sees more wickedness in three hours, than the sun beholds in the longest day of the year. "There is not a day, The longest, not the twenty first of June, On which three hours of moonlight smiles." But Byron did not remember, perhaps, that there are places on the earth-Quebec is not exactly one of them, where the world has not a chance for even three hours of moonlight villanies, the sun monopolizing the whole of the live-long night; would there were no deeds of dark ness where no darkness is! I shall never again see so long a day as this, till I reach that bright world of which the Sun of Righteousness is the light, and where neither sin nor darkness is ever known. In the faith of that world, God help me to live; in the hope of it, may he enable me to die. - I write this letter in a city which is rich not only in historic reminiscences, but as a spot sacred to American patriotism. That spot is a niche in the mountain walls of the Plains of Abraham, where our own Montgomery fell and closed his noble life with the closing year, Dec. 31, 1775. With a view to see the inscription which a few Yankees, some years ago, placed upon a tablet erected just over the fatal spot, which inscription is in these words, "HERE MONTGOMERY FELL, Dec. 31, 1775," — I wandered early this morning from the city proper up Champlain street, than runs along the base of this precipitous mountain wall, and upon the margin of the St. Lawrence river; and arriving at a gorge or ravine that seems to have been cut down the rocky precipice, I attempted myself to scale the wall and stand and sit upon a slaty shelf once moistened by the ebbing blood of Montgomery's heart. With effort I climbed the precipice; and here I sit, as in a seat cut out of the mountain side, projecting rocks encircling me on all sides but at the open south whence I look out upon the mighty St. Lawrence, down upon the busy street and wharves below me, and above to a clear heaven, in which a bright sun, unclouded, shines in glory upon one of the most enchanting landscapes that the American Continent can boast of. Behind me, the almost perpendicular wall of horizontally laid slaty strata rises three hundred feet to the bloody Plains of Abraham, |