Early dawn found us on hoard and steaming merrily up the glorious stream, which, spreading out very widely, has been lakefied, and is called Lake Chaudiere and Du Chene, thus named, I suppose, because the water is cold and there are few oaks to be seen.  Be that as it may, the scenery, though possessing neither striking features nor variety, is very pretty and cheerful.  A quantity of lovely little villas stud the banks, some ensconced snugly in cosy nooks, others standing out boldly upon the rich greensward; and, for a background, you have full-bosomed hills, rich in forest monarchs, clad in their dense and dark mantles.  Suddenly the scene changes, the Chats Falls burst upon the sight; and well does the magnificent view repay the traveller for any difficulty he may have had in his endeavours to reach this spot.  About three miles above the rocky and well-wooded island that creates the falls, the river contracts very considerably, and in its rushing impetuosity seems as though it were determined to sweep the whole island into the lake below; then there appears to have been a compromise between the indignant stream and the obstinate island, and the latter seems to have offered up a great portion of its timber at the shrine of Peace, and to have further granted various rights of way to its excited neighbour.  The river seems to have taken advantage of both these concessions very largely, but it appears that in nature, as it often occurs in politics, concessions only breed increased demands, and the ungrateful Ottawa, while sweeping away forest timber and baring the granite rock in a dozen different channels, thunders its foaming waters along with an angry voice, ever crying “More, more.”

I never saw anything more beautiful than these falls.  They are generally from twenty to forty feet broad, and about the same in height; but from the shape of the island you cannot see them all at once; and as you steam along there is a continual succession of them, each revealing some new beauty.  It was at this place that I, for the first time, saw a slide for the descent of lumber, to which I shall have to refer hereafter.  For many years the porterage of goods across this island to the Ottawa above—­which is called Lake Chats—­was a work of much difficulty and expense.  Mr. E., with that enterprise and energy which mark his character, got two friends of kindred spirit to join him, and made a railway across, about three miles and a half long.  It is a single line, constructed upon piles, and the car is rattled over at a jolly pace by two spicy ponies.  As the piles are in some places from twenty to thirty feet in the air, it looks nervous work; and if one of the ponies bolted, it might produce a serious accident; but they seem aware of the danger, and trot away as steadily as an engine, if not quite so rapidly.

On reaching the north-western end of the island, another steamer was waiting for us, and we again breasted the stream of the Ottawa.  After passing the first three miles, which, as before mentioned, are very narrow, and thus produce that additional impetus which ends in the lovely Chats Falls, the river opens out into the Lake.  The shores are low and with a gentle rise, and there is comparatively little appearance of agricultural activity, the settler having found the ground at the back of the rise better suited for farming purposes.