But let me tell you something of the city itself--or, better still, suppose we go up to the top of Mount Royal and look down upon it as it lies under our eyes. We shall start from my hotel, a new eight-million-dollar structure erected chiefly to accommodate American visitors, and take a coach. As a concession to hack drivers, taxis are not allowed on top of Mount Royal. Our way lies through the grounds of McGill University, and past one of the reservoirs built in the hillside to supply the city with water pumped from the river. McGill is the principal Protestant educational institution in the province of Quebec. Here Stephen Leacock teaches political economy when he is not lecturing or writing his popular humorous essays. Besides colleges of art, law, medicine, and applied science, McGill has a school of practical agriculture. It also teaches young women how to cook. It has branches at Victoria and Vancouver in British Columbia. The medical school is rated especially high, and many of its graduates are practicing physicians in the United States. Now we are on the winding drive leading to the top of the hill. Steep flights of wooden stairs furnish a shorter way up for those equal to a stiff climb, and we pass several parties of horseback riders. All this area is a public park, and a favourite spot with the people of the city. See those three women dressed in smart sport suits, carrying slender walking sticks. They seem very English. Over there are two girls, in knickers and blouses, gaily conversing with their young men. They have dark eyes and dark hair, with a brunette glow on their cheeks that marks them as French. Step to the railing on the edge of the summit. If the day were clear we could see the Adirondacks and the Green Mountains of Vermont. Like a broad ribbon of silver the St. Lawrence flows at our feet. That island over there is called St. Helene, bought by Champlain as a present for his wife. Since he paid for it out of her dowry, he could hardly do less than give it her name. That narrow thread to the right, parallel with the river, is the Lachine Canal, in which a steamer is beginning its climb to the level of Lake St. Louis. The canal has a depth of fourteen feet, and accommodates ships up to twenty-five hundred tons. The shores of the lake, which is really only a widening out of the river, furnish pleasant sites for summer bungalows and cool drives on hot nights. Nearer the city the canal banks are lined with warehouses and factories. Montreal’s manufactures amount to more than five hundred million dollars a year. There below us is Victoria Jubilee Bridge, one and three quarters miles long. Over it trains and motors from the United States come into the city. Another railroad penetrates the heart of Montreal by a tunnel under Mount Royal that has twin tubes more than three miles in length. The Canadian Pacific Railroad has bridged the St. Lawrence at Lachine.