St. Vallier Street, Leading To Ancient And Indian Lorette, Over The Little River Road, At Present So Well Built Up And Echoing To The Shrill Whistle Of The Q. M. O. & O. Railway, Until A Few Years Back Was A Lone Thoroughfare, Beyond The Toll-Bar, Lined With Bare, Open Meadows.

Here, also, has been felt the march of progress.

In the genial summer months passers-by are admonished by a pungent, not unhealthy, odor of tannin, an effluvia of tamarac bark, that tanners and curriers have selected their head-quarters in St. Vallier street. History also lends its attractions to the venerable thoroughfare.

Our forefathers would tell of many cosy little dinners, closed, of course, with whist or loo - of many recherche pic-nics in days of yore, kept up until the "sma' hours" at two renowned hostelries, only recently removed - the BLUE HOUSE and the RED HOUSE, - chiefly at that festive and crowning season of the year, when

"The snow, the beautiful snow,"

called forth the City Driving Club and its silvery, tinkling sleigh bells.

A steward - once famous as a caterer - on closing his term of service at the Chateau, with a departing Governor, more than a century back, was the Boniface at the Blue House: Alexandre Menut. A veritable Soyer was Monsieur Menut. During the American invasion, in the autumn of 1775, Monsieur Menut, owing to a vis major, was forced to entertain a rather boisterous and wilful class of customers: Richard Montgomery and his warlike Continentals.

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