The Montreal Story

YOU can go by foot up to the top of Mount Royal if you want to. The road spins back and forth like the busy yarn on a habitant spinning wheel. Or, in summertime you can ride in one of the old, patched up carriages, driven by an even older cabby who speaks French, but was born in Irish Griffintown. In the winter you may wrap your best girl and yourself under the heavy buffalo robes of an open sleigh and make the same journey under the bare trees, past the skiers and the riders, up to the chalet. At any time the view, when you lean on the concrete railing, is always a shock. Accustomed as we are to the details of city streets, of cars and trams and faces, the great panorama is something above and beyond our experience.