Anadarko daily democrat. [volume] (Anadarko, Oklahoma) 1908-191?, 1909-10-25
IN OLD MONTREAL
GRAY WITH NUNNERIES ANc
GREEN WITH MEMORIES.
stlll the Soul Of the City Is French
as the Visitor lnstinetively Feels
II Should ae--Hero Re.
membered.

membered.
II is not necessary to speak French
in Montreal. but II helps. says G. -.
Lancaster In the New York Evening
Post The soul OF the place is
French; the Spirit that pulses yet IN
the gray walls and the narrow streets
and the queer little pepperpot gate
ways that belong to nothing in par.
ticular is French. The colonial passed
the st. Lawrence boulevard into the
east of the city and here he found the
line between French and English cut
clean as n die. Never the old. Old
dwelling houses and pensions straight
onto the street the tiny lattice win.
dows showing ladder stairs and max
ed rooms and dirt and Infinite age.
can mean to the English all that they
mean to the French. Ia Sale, Ca.
dillac, Bienville may have helped wear
down the curve I'm those wooden steps.
Once, before his day OF shame, Van.
dreuil might have laughed at the
children playing in that gutter as the
passer-by laughs now. The sweet eyes
Of Helen. De Champlalns wife, looked
down those crooked vistas when
frances day was high.
There Is a sharp tragedy round the
name of this Helen. The island
bought by Champlain when he welded
her lies out in the stream, sullen yet
with its old forts and blockhouseg.
Here 100 years since, a French gen
eral burned the golden lilies and the
tricolor banners of France that they
might not fall into English hands.
Montreal is gray with nunneries
and green with memories; but 1t Is
also red and virilo with blood poured
out. One marvels that grass grows
on the Champ de Mars. For ashes Of
Indians burnt at the stake have
strewed II. the sweat of tortured men
have dripped on II, the bent knees Of
the early Jesuits have worn It down
10 the flint.
against the swell of grass, the dusty
track below, and the stone houses in
sunlight, the colonial shut his eyes
for space And his fancy followed
Paul de Maisonneuve up that slope at
the head of his keen-faced men; round
in a rushing swing TO the right. and
across the Place d'Armes. where the
Iroquois met them. The taint of
blood and black powder and dust and
heated men struck on the air again
as once near three hundred years ago;
the very day was quick with lust and
hste and daring, red man and white
rocked together and went down to.
gcther under the tossing plumes; In
dian yells and low French curses
Jared. Here Montreal was won for
France. And here. 100 years later, II
was lost for France on a bloodless
silent day, when Frances soldiers
laid down their arms before the Brit
ish.
But Paul de Maisonneuve yet
guards the earth he won. He guards
1t with the banner flung out in his
hand and his hat thrust back from
his eager face and his whole body in.
stinct with that life which does not
pass with the flesh. Through the
changes that the years bring Paul de
Maisonneuve yet guards his own.
And beneath the statue. beside the
other statues that cluster its base IS
written in the name of English and
French:
THE citizens of Montreal grateful" e"
Farther east, beyond the Jaques
Cartier market, that on certain days
pulses with French chatter and
smells OF onions and cabbage, stands
little low white house with green
shutters and the plaster taking OFF
II was and still is the core of old
Montreal It's very atmosphere Is
misty with age, From the dim
vaults where the windows slit into
the deep walls look no more than
half-healed wounds, vague memories
unwind themselves; memories of trag.
edy, of glory, of stately entertain
ments of keen business transactions
Of bitter sorrow, of war plots, of
strategy and OF simple. kindly life and
undaunted courage.