Brig _Laurel_, St. Laurence, below Montreal,
August 17, 1832

IT was after sunset, and a glorious evening, when we left Quebec, which
we did in company with a fine steam-vessel, whose decks and gallery were
crowded with passengers of all descriptions. A brave sight she was to
look upon; ploughing the bright waters which foamed and sung beneath her
paddles; while our brig, with her white sails, followed like a butterfly
in her wake. The heavens were glowing with the richest tints of rose and
saffron, which were reflected below on the bosom of the river; and then
came forth the stars, in the soft blue ether, more brilliant than ever I
saw them at home, and this, I suppose, I may attribute to the superior
purity of the atmosphere. My husband said this evening resembled the
sunsets of Italy.

Our voyage has proved a very pleasant one; the weather moderately warm,
and the air quite clear. We have within the last few days emerged from a
cold, damp atmosphere, such as we often experience in Britain in the
spring, to a delightful summer, moderated by light breezes from the
river.

The further we advance up the country the more fertile it appears. The
harvest is ripening under a more genial climate than that below Quebec.
We see fields of Indian corn in full flower: it is a stately-looking
crop, with its beautiful feathery top tinted with a rich purple hue,
below which tufts of pale green silk are waving in the breeze. When
fully ripe they tell me it is beautiful to see the golden grain bursting
from its silvery sheath; but that it is a crop liable to injury from
frost, and has many enemies, such as bears, racoons, squirrels, mice,