be coming back to you. Strange presentiments have been torturing her the last few nights. She feared for your safety. So she had no peace. I had to leave at once. But she will bring you a glad surprise."

Don Jermann gave Ricardo his hand. "I thank you, Ricardo," he said. "I thank you doubly for coming, and I beg your forgiveness for having doubted you; but answer-why did Helen weep with you in the garden?" he asked hesitatingly. "The red Elizabeth saw you two together."

Ricardo interrupted him.

"This devil-woman!" he cried out. "Well, 'twas like this. Your wife wept because in Pedro she saw your bitterest enemy, and she continually lived in mortal fear of your safety. She also told me before leaving that she will never sleep soundly nights if you will not see to it that the foot-traps are placed before the doors. And, Jermann, your wife needs rest now."

Again Jermann handed Ricardo his hand.

"Out of darkness into light," he said, sobbing. Yet he was happy.

When, later, they approached Don Jermann's palace, the sound of weeping and groaning stole into their ears.

"What's that?" asked Ricardo, somewhat frightened.

"Come on, Ricardo," answered Jermann as he pulled his friend with him. There, in the pale moonlight, lay the red Elizabeth-a victim of the foot-trap, begging prayerfully for deliverance. When her eyes fell upon her master, she begged humbly for help.

“Oh, master," she cried with fear, as they fastened her hands. "I am only a weak woman. Pedro, the wretch, ordered me to steal the money. Have pity, master, I have three children!"

Don Jermann betook himself to her cottage. The next morning Pedro and Elizabeth were taken into custody by the police.

Helen never heard the developments of that terrible night. Only a year later, as she held her little son in her arms, did Don Jermann summon courage to relate to her the story which explained for all time the strange and sudden disappearance of black Pedro and the red Elizabeth.

are but nine miles from the cita

del city and the drive is over a macadam road. When I saw this part of the country I was trying to ride through the province of Quebec on a bicycle, and can vouch for the statement that the sensations accompanying a spin over Canadian macadam resemble intimately those of seasickness. All this may be avoided by taking the steam or electric cars, which run from Quebec to St. Joachim. This railroad, by the way, with all its appurtenances, was blessed by His Eminence, the Cardinal, upon its completion, August 15, 1889.

The point where the Montmorency River makes its plunge of two hundred and eighty feet is but a short distance back from the St. Lawrence; in fact, the best sight of the white veil of the cataract, which tears down over ragged, projecting rocks, is to be obtained from the big river or the railroad bridge. across the mouth of the small one. One of the prettiest views of the Falls is that from the further side of the St. Lawrence, from which place the white shimmer of the foamy waters is visible amidst the sombre surroundings of rocky ledges and tree-clad hillsides like a last snowdrift on a greening mountain slope.

Just west of the railroad bridge is the little village of Montmorency, on the site of Wolfe's defeat at the hands of Montcalm, July 31, 1759, when the former tried to turn the French leader's extreme left, which rested on the bank of the Falls. The attack was made by Wolfe's forces at the fords above and below the Falls, but the French held their ground at both places, and it was this defeat that made it necessary for the

bility of the attack upon Quebec proper, the success of which made Wolfe's name forever famous.

The grounds on the northeast side of the Falls are under private control and form a small park, to which admission is gained upon payment of a twenty-five cent admission fee. The gorge below the Falls widens away toward Montmorency village in one direction, while on the other side, a high, sandy bluff slopes abruptly to the water. As is often the case in viewing nature's most gigantic displays of power or vastness, one finds it difficult to realize, in looking down into the basin from the sandy bluff by the Falls, the magnitude of the plunge which the waters make in seeking their level. You hear people say of Niagara Falls, "They don't seem so very high!" Neither do the much higher falls of the Montmorency until, looking off from the edge of the precipice, one observes at its foot, piled up on the little strip of sandy beach, hundreds of big pine logs which look like a handful of lead-pencils.

Just above the Falls, almost at their brink, stands on either side of the river a big stone tower, the remains of what was once a suspension bridge. The bridge had been up but a few months when it gave way, through some fault of construction, and fell, carrying with it two unfortunate country people-one Ignace Cote and his wife-of whom no trace was ever found. The new bridge is farther up the stream.

Opposite the little park, at the other side of the Falls, is a power-house, and back of it in the trees is the residence once occupied by the Duke of Kent, father of the late Queen Victoria.

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fountain, the water of which is said to possess absolute curative properties.

Just within the middle door of the edifice itself, on the right and left, are immense piles of crutches, canes, etc., discarded by invalids who have been holy water from the fountain. cured of infirmities by the Saint and the

Louis Guimont, a farmer of Petit-Cap, afflicted with rheumatism, was the first person on record benefited miraculously by the power of St. Anne. In a spirit of devotion, he journeyed, in 1660, to place three stones upon the foundation of the new church then being constructed, and found himself entirely and suddenly cured. In 1662 Mary Esther Ramage was instantly cured of an affliction which for eighteen months had prevented her

In front of the cathedral about an acre of land is enclosed by a high iron fence and this "churchyard" is made. beautiful with flowers and statuary and a