By going back to Saguenay

On the forecastle of the steamboat which was to leave Quebec on Tuesday, at seven o’clock in the morning, Miss Kitty Ellison awaited the happy moment of departure, quietly seated, and without showing too much impatience; for, in fact, if the image of the Saguenay had not shone before her with all her attractive promises, she would have found the greatest happiness to contemplate simply the St. Lawrence and Quebec.

The sun poured a warm, golden light over the upper town belted with greyish walls, and on the pavilion of the citadel asleep along its mast, while shining with a ray full of caresses the tin roofs of the lower town.

To the south, east, and west were mounts of purple hue and plains dotted with white houses, with effects of shadows and damp rays to delight the most gloomy heart.

Opposite, the river cradled a thousand boats of all kinds, and lost mysteriously, in the distance, under layers of silvery vapors.

Misty misty breaths, as well as airless and colorless flames, rose from the surface of the water, the very depths of which seemed to be imbued with shimmering gleams.

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