The VALLEY «"* GIANTS
"V
% By PETER B. KYNE
%
Author of "Cappy Ricks" „ by Peter & IJph
"I CAN'T FlttHT ANY MORE."
• Synopsis.—Pioneer in the Califor
nia redwood region, John Cardigan,
at forty-seven, is the leading citizen
of Sequoia, owner of miile, chips,
and many acre# of timber, a wid
ower after three years of married
life, and father ef two-day 'old
Bryce Cardigan. At fourteen Bryce
makes the acquaintance of Shirley
Surtlßer, a visitor St •Sequoia, and
bis junior by a few years. Together
they visit the Valley of the Giants,
sacred to John Cardigan and his
son as the burial place of Bryce's
mother, and part with mutual re
gret. While Bryce is at college
John Cardigan meets with heavy
business losses and for the drat
tlipe views the future with uncer
tainty. After graduation from col
lege, and a trip abroad, Bryce Car
digan comes hoots. On the train he
Is Interested in an attractive girl.
CHAPTER. IV—Continued.
Bryce could see that she was the
tlttje daughter of some large rich
, nan. The aparsity of Jewelry and
tbe rich simplicity of her attire proved
that, and moreover she was accom
panied by a French maid to whom
•he spoke in French ta a manner
which testified that before acquiring
the French maid she had been in the
custody of a French nurse. She pos
sessed poise. For the rest, she had
■wonderful Jet-black hair, violet eyes,
and milk-white skin, a correct nose
tout a somewhat generous mouth.
Bryce guessed she was twenty or
twenty-one years old and that she had
a temper susceptible of being aroused.
The fact that thla remarkable
young woman had also left the train
at Red Bluff farther Interested. him,
tfor he knew Red Bluff and while glv
tag Credit to the many lovely damsels
' t of that little ambitious city, Bryce
had a suspicion {bat no former Red
Bluff girl would dare to Invade the
•old home town with a French maid.
Be noted, as further evidence of tbe
correctness of his assumption, that
tbe youthful baggage-smasher at the
•tation failed, to recognize her and
was evidently dazzled when, followed
by the maid, struggling with , two
•uit-cases, she approached him and In
pure though alien English inquired
the location'of the best hotel and the
hour and point of departure of the
automobile stage for San * Hedrin.
The youth had answered her first
question and was about to answer the
oecond when George Sea Otter, In alt
bis barbaric splendor, came pussy
footing around the corner of the sta
tion In old man Cardigan's regal
touring-car. ,
The Bignest Living Authority, fol
lowing the gaze of the baggage
emnsfter, turned and beheld Gc
• Sea Otter. Beyond a doubt he v
tbe West westward. She notei.
rifle-stock projecting from the
bard, and a vision of a stage hold-up
flashed across her mind. Ah, yes, of
course—tbe express messenger's weap
on, no doubt 1 And further to clinch
her instant assumption that here was
the Sequoia motor-stage, there was
tbe pennant adorning the wind-shield 1
Dismissing the baggage-smashed with
•a gracious smile, the Highest Living
Authority approached George Sea
Otter, noting, the whlie, further evi
dence that this car was a public con
veyance, for the young man who bad
been ber fellow-passenger was bead
ing toward the automobile also. She
heard him say:
"Hello, George, you radiant red
rascal! I'm mighty glad to see you,
boy. Shake I"
They shook, George Sea Otter's
dark eyes and white teeth flaablng
(Measurably. Bryce tossed bis bag In
to the tonneau; the half-breed opened
the front door; and the young master
had his foot on the running-board and
yras about to enter the car when a
•oft voice spoke at his elbow:
"Driver, this la the stage for
Sequoia. Is It not?"
George Sea Otter could scarcely
«N>dlt his auditory nerves. "Thla
oar?" he demanded bluntly, "thla—the
Sequoia stage! Take a 'look, lady.
This here's a Napier Imported auto
mobile. It's a private car and be
longs to my boss here."
Bryce turned and lifted his hat
"Quite naturally, you thought It was
the Sequoia stage." He turned a
•moldering glance upon George Sea
.Otter. "George." he_ declared oml
* oously, but witn a aiy wink that drew
the sting from his words, "If you're
anxious to hold down your Job, the
■est time a lady speaks to you and
asks you a aimple question you an
swer yes or no and refrain from sar
castic remarks. Don't let your en
thusiasm for this car run away with
yo«." He Weed the girl again. "Was
It your Intention to go to Bequola on
the next trip of the stage?"
She nodded.
"That means you will have to wait
here three days until the stage re
turns from Sequoia," Bryce replied.
A shade of annoyance passed over
the classic features of the Highest
!.lvtn* Authority. "Oh, dear," she
complained, how fearfully awkward!
New I shall have ta take the next
to San ria*f> wmt book VV
sage on the steamer to Sequoia—and
Marcelle is such a poor sailor. Oh,
dear I"
Bryce bad an Inspiration and hasten
ed to reveal It.
"We are about tp start for Sequoia
now, although the lateness of our start
will compel us to put up tonight at
the rest-house on the soutjh fork of
Trinity river and continue the Journey
in the morning. However, this ftst
house is eminently respectable and
the food and accommodations are ex
traordinarily good for mountains; so.
If an Invitation to occupy the tonneau
of my car will not be construed as
an lnpertlnenci, coming as It does
from a total stranger, you- are at
liberty to regard this car as to all
Intents and purposes the public con
veyance which so scandalously de
clined to wait for you this morning."
She looked at him searchlngiy for
a brief Instant; then with a peculiarly
winning smile and a graceful inclina
tion of her head she thanked him
and accepted his hospitality—thusi
"Why, certainly not! You are very
Itlnd, and I shall be eternally grate
ful."
%"Thank you for that vote of confi
dence. It makes me feel that I have
This la ths Stage for Sequoia, la
It Notr
• I
your permission to introduce myself.
My name Is Bryce Cardigan, and I
live in Sequoia when I'm at home."
"Of redwoods?" she.
questioned. He nodded. "I've heard
of you, I think," she continued. • "I
am Shirley Sumner." .*
"You do not live In Sequoia."
"No, but I'm going to hereafter. 1
was there about ten years ago."
He grinned and thrust out a great
hand which she surveyed gravely for
a minute before Inserting hers In'lt.
"I wonder," he said, "If It la to be my
duty to give you a ride every time you
come to Sequoia? The last time yon
were there you wheedled me Into giv
ing you a ride on my pony, an animal
known so Midget Do you, by any
chance, recall that Incident?"
She looked at him wonderinfciy.
"Why—why, you're boy with tbe
beautiful auburn hair," she declared.
■He lifted bis hat and revealed his
thick thatch In all Its -glory. "I'm not
so sensitive about it now," he explain
ed. "When we first met reference to
my hair was apt to rile me." He
shook her little hand with cordial
good-nature. "George, suppose you
pile Miss Sumner's hand-baggage in
the tonneau and then pile Jn there
yourself and keep Ma reel le company.
I'll drive; and you can sit up In front
with me. Miss Sumner, snug behind
tbe wind-shield where you'll not be
blown about"
He went through his gears, and the
car glided away on ita Journey. "By
the way," be said suddenly as be
turned west toward the distant blue
mountains of Trinity county, "how did
you happen to connect me with Cardi
gan's redwoods?"
"I've heard my uncle. Colonel Beth
Pennington, speak of them." '
"Oolonel Seth Pennington means
nothing In my young life, I never
heard of blip before; so I dare aay
he's a newcomer tn our county. I've
been away six years," he added In ex
planation.
"We're from Uncle was
formerly In the lumber business there,
but he's togged out now."
"I see. So he came west I sup
pose, and bought a lot of redwood
lumber cheap from some old croaker
who never could see any future to the
redwood lumber Industry. Personally,
I don't think he conld have made a
better Investment I hope I shall
have the pleasure of making hit ac
quaintance when I deliver you to Mm.
Perhaps you may be a neighbor of
mine. Hope so."
At this Juncture George Sea Ottar,
wh* had beea aa Interested 111 I■■ II
' 'yl f'k A m '' '
to the conversation, essayed a grunt
from the rear seat Instantly, to
Shirley Sumner's vast surprise, her
host grunted also; whereupon George
Sea Otter broke Into a series of
grunts and guttural exclamations
whfch evidently appeared quite in
telligible to her host, for he slowed
down to Ave miles an hour and cocked
one ear to the rear; apparently he
was profoundly Interested in whatever
information his henchman hod to Im
part. Wlitn George Sea Otter finished
his harangue, Bryce" nodded and once
more gave his attention to tossing the
miles behind blm.
"What language was that?" Shirley
Sumner Inquired, consumed with
curiosity.
"Digger Indian," . he replied.
"George's mother was my nurse, and
he and I grew up together. So I
can't very well help speaking the lan
guage of the tribe."
They chattered volubly on many
subjects for the first twenty miles;
then the road narrowed and com
menced to climb steadily, and there
after Bryce gave all of his attention
to the car, for a deviation of a foot
from the wheel-rut on the outside of
the road would have sent them hur
tling over the grade Into the deep
timbered canyons below. By reason of
the fact that Bryce's gaze never
wavered from the road Immediately
In front of the car, she had a chance
to appraise him critically while pre
tending to look past him to the
tumbled, snow-covered ranges to their
right
She saw a big, supple, powerful
man of twenty-five or six, with the
bearing and general demeanor of one
many , years his elder. His nose was
high, of medium thickness and just a
trifle long—the nose of a - thinker.
His ears were large, with full lobes—
the ears of a generous man. The
mouth, full-lipped but firm, the heavy
Jaw and square chin, the great hands
(most amazingly free from freckles)
denoted tiie man who would not avoid
a fight worth while.
Upon tlielr arrival at the rest-houflfe,
Bryce during dinner was very atten
tive and mildly amusing, although
Shirley's keen wits assured her that
this was merely a clever pose and
sustained with difficulty. She was
confirmed In ttiiW assumption when,
after dinner, she complained of being
weary and bade him good-night. She
had scarcely left him when he called:
"George!"
The half-breed slid out of tile dark
ness and sat down beside him. A
moment later, through the open
window of her room just above the
porch where Bryce and George Bea
Otter sat, Shirley heard the former
say:
. "George, when did you first notice
that my father's sight was beginning
to falir
"About two years ago, Bryce. He
began to walk with his hands held
out in front of him, and sometimes
be lifted his feet too high."
"Can he see at all now, George?"
"Oh, yes, a little bit—enough to
make his way to the office and back."
"Poor old governor! Qeorge. until
yon told me this afternoon. I hadn't
heard a word about It If I had, I
never would have taken that two-year
Jannt around the world. And yon say
this man Colonel Pennington and my
father have been having trouble.
"Tea " Here George Sea Otter
gracefully unburdened himself of n
"Dad!" Ha Called.
fervent corse directed at Shirley's
avuncular relative; whereupon that
young lady promptly left the window
and heard no more.
•••• • • • •
They were on the road again by
eight o'clock next mornlDg, and Just
as Cardigan's mill was blowing the
six afelock whistle, Bryce stopped the
ear at the head of the street leading
—w» to Urn mlw »— TMtotjw
t tea i i.,*»dX£d vi&Jk'
THE ALAMANCE GLEANER, GRAHAM, N. 0.
drive now, George," he Inform* d B*e
silent Sea Otter. Re turned to Shir
ley Sumner. "I'm going to leave you
now," he said. Tliank you for rid
ing-over from Red Bluff with me. My
father never leaves the office until the
whistle blows, and so I'm going to
hurry d6wn to that little building you
see at the end of the street and sur
prise him."
He stepped out on the running
boards stood there a moment, and ex
tended his hand. Shirley had com
menced a due and formal expression
of her gratitude for having been de
livered safely In Sequoia, when George
Sea Otter spoke:
"Here conies John Cardigan," he
said.
"Drive Miss Sumner around'to Colo
nel Pennlngtdn's house," Bryce order
ed, and even while he held Shirley's
hand, he turned to catch the first
glimpse of his father. Shirley follow
ed his glance and saw a tail, power
fully built Old man coming down the
street with his hands thrust a little
In front of him. as If for protection
from some Invisible assailant.
"Olf, my poor old father !" she
heard Bryce Cardigan murmur. "My
dear old pa) I And I've let him grope
In the dark for two years!"
He released her hand and letiped
from the car. "Dad!" he called. "It
la I—Bryce. I've come home to you
at last."
The slightly bent figure of John
Cardigan Straightened with a Jerk; he
held out his arms, trembling with
eagerness, and as the car continued
on to the Pennington house Shirley
looked back and saw Bryce folded In
hlB father's embrace. She did not,
however, hear the heart-cry with
which the beaten old man welcomed
his boy.
"Sonny,, sonny—oh, I'm so glad
you're back. Tve missed you. Bryce,
I'm whipped—l've lost your heritage.
Oh, son! I'm old —I can't fight any
more. I'm blind—l can't see my ene
mies. I've lost your redwood trees—
even your mother's Yalley of the
Giants."
And he commenced to weep for the
third time In fifty years. And when
the aged and helpless weep, nothing
Is more terrible. Bryce Cardigan said
no word, hut held his father close
to his great heart and laid his cheolc
gently against the old roan's tenderly
as a woman might And presently,
from that silent communion of spirit,
each drew strength and comfort. As
the shadows fell In John Cardigan's
• town, they went home to the house on
the hllL
,••• • • • •
Shirley Sumner's eyes were moist
when George Sen Otter, In obedience
to the Instructions of his youthful
master, set her, the French maid, and
their hand-baggage down on the side
walk In front of Colonel Seth Pen
nington's house. The half-breed hesi
tated a moment, undecided whether lit
would carry the band-baggage up to
the door or leave that task for a
Pennington retainer; then he noted
the tearstalns qp the cheeks pf his
fair passenger. Instantly he took up
the hand-baggage, kicked open the
Iron gate, and preceded Shirley up the
cement walk to the door.
"Just wait a moment. It you please,
George," Shirley said as he set the
baggage down and started back for
the car. He turned and beheld her
extracting a five-dollar Ml! from her
purse. "For you, George," she con
tinued. "Thank you so much."
In all his life George Sea Otter had
never had such an experience—he,
nappily, having Keen raised In a coun
try where, with the exception of
waiters, only a pronounced vagrant
expects or accepts a gratuity fifcro a
woman. He took the bill and fingered
It curiously; then his white blood as
serted Itself and he handed the bill
back to Shirley.
"Thank you," he said respectfully.
"If you were a man—all right. But
from a lady—no. I am like my boss.
I work for you for nothing"
Shirley did not understand his re
fusal, but her Instinctive tact warned
her not to Insist She returned the
bill to her purse, thanked him again,
and turned quickly to hide the slight
flush of annoyance. George Sea Otter
noted It
"Lady," he said with great dignity,
"at first I did not want to carry your
baggage. I did not want to walk on
this land." And with a sweeping ges
ture he Indicated the Pennington
grounds. "Then you cry a little be
cause my boss Is feeling bad about his
old msn. So I like you better. The
old man—well, he has been like father
to me and my mother—and we are
Indians. My brothers, too—they work
for him. So If you like my boss and
his old man. George Sea Otter would
go to hell for you pretty damn' qnlck.
You bet your life!"
"You're a very good boy, George."
she replied, with difficulty repressing
a smile at his blunt but earnest
avowal. "I am glad the Cardigans
hsve uch sn honest loyal servant"
George Sea Otter's dark face lighted
with a quick smile. "Now you pay
me," he replied and returned to the
car.
The door opened, and a Swedish
maid stood in the entrance regarding
her stolidly Tm Miss Sumner,"
Shirley told her. "This Is my maid
Marcelle. Help her In with the band
baggage." She stepped Into the hsll
and ca ted: "Ooh-hoohl ~ Nunky
dunk!"
"Ship ahoy!" An answering call
came to her from the dining room,
acroaa the entrance-ball and an In
stant later Colonel Beth Pennington
'stood In the doorway. "Bless my
wMskers) It that you. my dearf* he
cried, and advanced to greet her.
"Wky. how did y«v gat here, Shirt* t
1 tkesKlit Vim'd mlssi Che M|»"
i - "•
She presented hej cheek for Ms fcta*
"So I did. (Inele, but a nice red-bsirad
younp man named Brsce Cardigan
found roe in distress at Red Bluff,
picked me up ln'his car, and brought
me here." She sniffed adorably.
"I'm so hungry," she declared, "and
here I am. just In time for dinner.
Is my njrae la the pot?"
"It isn't. Shirley, but It soon will
he. How perfectly bully to have yoa
with me again, my dear! And what a
charming young lady you've grown
to be since I saw you last I You're—
why, you've been crying! By Jove,
I had no Idea you'd be so glad to ses
me agaltv" '
She coXild not forego a sly little smite
at his egoism. "You're looking per*
fectly splendid Uncle Seth," she par
ried.
; "And rm feeling perfectly splendid.
By the way, who did you say picked
you np In his carf
"Bryce Cardigan. Do you kr ovt
him?"
"No, we haven't met. Son. of old
John Cardigan, I dare shy. I've heard
of him. -• He's been away from. Sequoia
"Why, How Old You Get Here, Mil*
>eyr
for quite a while, I believe. Aboot
time he caine home to take care ol
that stiff-necked old father of hla.*
He stepped to the bell and press ad -t
and the butler answered. "Set •
plqce at dinner for Mlsa Shirley,
James," he ordered. "The r raa will
show you your rooms, Shirley. I was
Just about to sit down to dinner. 11l
wait for you."
While Shirley was In the dtnlni
room Colonel Pennington's features
wore an expression almost pontifical,
but when she had gotta die ntmo»
phere of paternalism and affectloa
which be radiated faded instantly.
The Colonel's face was In repose now
—cold, calculating, vaguely repellent
He scowled Mlghtly.
"Now. Isn't that the devil's luck?
he soliloquised. "Young Cardigan t
probably the only man In Sequoia-*
dashed awkward If they should b*
come Interested In each other —at this
time. They say he's good-looking:
certainly he \m educated and has ae
quired some worldly polish—lust thr
kind of young fellow Bhiriey will And
Interesting and welcome company Ina
town litre this. Many things can
happen in a year—and It will be a
year "before I can smash the Card*
gans. Damn It"
CHAPTER V.
Along the well remembered streets
of Sequoia Bryce Cardigan and his
father walked arm In arm. theii
progress continuously Interrupted bj
well-meaning but Impulsive Sequolani
who Insisted upon halting the pair te
shake hands with Bryce snd bid hln
welcome home. In the presence of
ttiose third parties the old man quickly
conquered the agitation he had fell
at tills long-deferred meeting with hla
son, and when presently they left the
business section of the town and
turned Into a less-frequented street,
bis emotion assumed the character
of a quiet joy, evidenced In a mors
erect bearing and a firmer tread, as
If he strove, despite Ids seventy-alt
years, not to appear Incongruous as
he walked beside hla splendid son.
I wish I could see you more clear
ly," he said presently. His voice as
well as his words expressed profound
regret, but there was no hlut of despalv
or heart-break now.
Bryce, who up to this moment had
refrained from discussing his father's
misfortunes, drew the old men a tittis
closer to his side.
"What*s wrong with yoor eyes, pal T
he que.-led. He did not ofteu address
his parent, after the fashion of most
sons, is "rather," "Dad." or "Pop,"
They were closer to each other thai
that, and a rare sense of perfect com
radeship found expression, on Brycw't
part. In such salutations ss Sal."
"partner" and. Infrequently,* "old
sp?rt."
son," bis father answer
ed. "Merely the penalty of old agsi"
"But can't something be done a boat
ft?" demanded Bryce. "Can't they fes
cored somehow or other?"
"Oh, Bryet, the man I
hasn't a soul"
■ • ii S.v: With, lK
A \ vl
\ gMr
CHATUU TROKTtWC irm. 'CITAT3C.L '• '" ***" l v>l
OUEBEC, the cradle of New
France, will celebrate Its four
hundredth birthday within a
few years. It la the oldest
city In North America, and Its story
la not only history hut romance. It
la a unique city, standing alone as a
sort of historical hyphen between
the days that are and the days long
gone by. which cancot be duplicated
etther in the old world or the new.
Jacques Cartler, a sailor of St Malo
In France, discovered its site In 1533.
Be was the first white man to set foot
qpon the soil of Canada, the name of
which is derived from "Kanata," the
Indian word meaning "A Collection of
Huts." Two years later Cartler made
a second voyage to the St Lawrence
and became friendly with Donnacona.
an Indian chief who was ruler of
Stadacona, a village which then oc
cupied part of the present site of
Quebec.
Following Cartler came Champlain,
Frontenac, La Salle, and scores of oth
er intrepid soldiers of fortune, who
founded and built the city, fought with
the Indians, and explored the Great
Lakes, the Mississippi river and vast
areas of the Interior of the United
States, which were named Louisiana
by La Salle.
The old and new still rub shoulders
in Quebec. Its Inhabitants spoke
French more than three centuries ago,
and the majority of them still speak
the same language. Many old build
ings with romantic histories are still
tq be seen, and In striking contrast to
them are splendid buildings of modern
construction.
"What a Beakr
When Cat-tier's sailors first sighted
Cape Diamond, a mighty crag pro
jecting Into the 8t Lawrence, and
lowering 200 feet above It they are
said to have exclaimed, "Quel Bee,"
meaning "What a beak." This, ao
cording to some authorities, Is how
Quebec got Its name. The first set
tlement at Quebec was on the shore
at the foot of Cape Diamond, and
later Frontenac built the Chateau St.
Louis, a combination of residence and
fort on the heights above. The early
French settlers of Quebec were al
most constantly harried by the fero
cious Iroquois, who many times killed
the outposts and charged the stockade
surrounding the fort Itself, despite the
fact that It was defended by small
arms and cannon. The Iroquois came
from what Is now New York state,
and from time to time French soldiers
and their Indian allies, the Hurona,
crossed the 8t Lawrence and pene
trated the wildernesses over which the
Iroquois roamed, destroying their vil
lages as a matter of reprisal.
Dufferin Terrace, Quebec's favorite
promenade of today, overlooking the
vast stretches of the St Lawrence,
was the scene of numerous Indian at
tacks. A big hotel closely resembling
an old French chateau now stands on
the very spot where stood the Chateau
St Louis, and part of the cellar of this
famous fort is still to be seed beneath
the planking of the Terrace. When
Blr William Phlpps' fleet sailed up the
St. Lawrence In 1000 and demanded
Quebec's surrender, Comte de Fron
tenac the choleric and valiant French
governor, replied to the summons, "I
will answer you from the mouths of
these cannon."
Pblpps opened fire from the river
and Frontenac's guns replied from the
heights with snch good aim that the
English fleet retired. In the lower
town today stands a picturesque lit
tle church, Notre-Dame des Victories,
which was struck by some of the Eng
lish cannon balls, and received Its
name from the victory over Phlpps and
for another deliverance In 1711 when
a second English fleet under Blr Ho
venden Walker was almost wholly de
stroyed by a storm In the Oulf of St
Lawrence while on its way to attack
Quuhec. Wolfe's batteries at Levis,
act oss the river, also partially de
stroyed It In 1790. Notre Dame
square, upon which this church faces.
Is the oldest part of Quebec. Here
ttood Champion's "Habitation," a
house and fort and the first building
erected In 1008 when Champlain found
ed the city. "All traces of it have
lone since dlsaoneared ***** AVAD
y--
Quebec's first street Bou»ie-oavt to
also the narrowest street in America.
It winds through the center of blocks
of houses, many of which are connect
ed by bridges across the quaint thor
oughfare. This street up which swag
gered the soldiers of Champlain, Fisi
tenac, and La Salle, Is so hidden away
that It is not easy to find, but no visi
tor who wants to see old Quebec falls
to visit Sous-ie-Cap.
Historic Qround.
At the foot of the heights IUUS '
Champlain street along which Oca.
Richard Montgomery was marching
with his Continental soldiers to attack
Quebec In December, ltlß, when ha
and his aides were mowed down by a
discharge of grape and canister trmrn
a British block bouse. Montgomery's
body was burled In Quebec for 43 yean
add was then removed to New York
and re Interred in old St PsaTs
church, within sound of the footfalls
of Broadway's hurrying thousands. Os
the wall of a bank at the corner c(
St. Peter and St James streets, la a
bronze tablet marking the spot where
Gen. Benedict Arnold, operating agates*
Quebec at the same time as Mont
gomery, was wounded and defeated la
his attempt to storm the heights.
Every foot of Quebec, five times be
sieged by white enemies alone—oat
counting red—ls historic ground, sad
the visitor who cares to view interest
ing places will do well to read the ro
mantic story of the old city before ha
hire* his csieche in summer or his
quaint sleigh in the winter carnival
weeks. As a matter of fact howsver,
Quebec is not difficult to see afoot psw
vlding one does not object to a bit ef
hill climbing. Within a stone's thrssr
of Dufferin Terrace is the Place
d'ATmes, once the camp at Huron In
diana under the protection of the
French guns, and later the scene of
military parades, public meetings and
fashionable promenades during the oM
French regime. Blslng 100 feet above
Dufferin Terrace and 800 feet above
the St Lawrence, Is the famous oM
Citadel with its stone walls and frvwa-
Ing cannon. In winter the shoaUtar
of this hill Is the starting point of the
triple toboggan allde down which the
gayly-clad merrymakers speed the full
length of the terrace. But a few yards
from them Is the "Governor's Garden,"
the chief attraction of which is s hoge
shaft of granite erected In 1828 to the
memory of Wolfe and Montcalm, both
of whom were killed In the battle an
the plains of Abraham ftear by, which
ended the rule of the French.
History, however. Is not the only to
terestlng thing about Quebec. It Is a
handsome, well-built- city, with fins
streets snd splendid public buildings.
The people are lovers of the great
out-doors, snd there Is sport aplenty
in both summer snd winter. when
the ice king has spread his mantle at
ermine over the heights, the people en
joy every known winter sport lnctnfr
ing snowahoelng, tobogganing,
bob sledding, hockey and skating. IS
the summer near-by flatting resorts ass
well patronized, and camping and boat
ing n Ufa her their devotees by thou
sands. There are many side tripe etf
great Interst including those to Mont
morency Falls, a cataract 100. feat
higher than Niagara; Ste. Anne Bena
pre, the famous shrine; the Quebec
bridge, the greatest engineering feat
of the kind In the world; the Indian '
Lorette, still the home of the Huron
Indians, and Point Levis, opposite Que
bec, with Its three forts from which
Wolfe shelled Quebec more than n cen
tury and a half ago.
Decency.
We don't know any better way of
getting*along In this world than by
just doing the decent thing. Succesa
experts may g9 right along preaching
the doctrine of skill and application
and energy and efficiency and what
not but when you get it all boiled
down the fact remains that success to
nothing more than dqlng the right
thing because It's the right thing to dn.
There never was a decent chap wbe
wasn't a success, nor an Indecent one
who was. Cheats sometimes get rich
and bull-necked selfishnem now and
then gets to the top. but they dent
succeed. Nothing but decency wine
friendship ud and a we»-