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northeast on the twenty-three mile run along the St. Lawrence to the old town which is so famous for its cathedral where so many miracles of healing are said to have occurred. In most areas of French Canada we've seen, but especially in this one, there are many evidences of what we have dubbed "dripping religion" because of the many wayside shrines which show Christ bleeding on the cross. As Protestants, I don't think we are particularly affected by all this but there's no doubt that the good French-Canadian Catholics are and the great cathedral of Ste.Anne de Beaupré inspires them even more. I don't believe in miracles but it's hard to visit the cathedral and not believe that something occurs there to make people well in many cases--and I suppose the obvious answer is faith. There was a large collection of crutches that had been cast away after the owners had visited the shrine and been miraculously cured. At this point in time, I don't know the cause of the miracles but it apparently was something to do with Ste.Anne herself and not, as is sometimes the case, a piece of the Cross or something of that nature. In 1934, the cathedral was huge but unfinished. However, an impressive flight of steps led up to the main entrance and, as I recall the story, it was at the top of these steps that the faithful threw away their crutches, thus giving the spot the name of "The Sacred Stairs." Another feature of the place was an extensive cyclorama, I believe of the Crucifixion, which was housed in a separate building where admission was charged. All in all, it was a very impressive place and one calculated to make one wonder if, after all, maybe there is such a thing as a miracle now and then. As we drove away, we were more conscious of the power of the Catholic faith than we'd been at any time before. And perhaps we paid more attention to the roadside shrines we passed in considerable profusion, and complete with huge bleeding hearts which Charlie referred to as "strawberries." It was quite an experience and one I never forgot although after forty years, some of the details have slipped away.

On the way back to Quebec, we stopped at the Kent House at Montmorency Falls, had a Black Horse and inspected the cataract, which is preserved in Charlie's pictures and is very impressive. While there, we enjoyed a vivid rainbow which was strong enough to show as a distinct reflection in the St. Lawrence. Then we returned to Mlle. Hudon's. It had been a satisfactory day in spite of our disappointment at the park. To top it off, we had dinner at the Chateau Frontenac where we were deeply impressed with the many beards among the doctors attending the convention, which was still in progress. I presume it was responsible also for the difficulty in getting Black Horse ale, the 2,000 cases apparently having gone down the various drains since two days before. We even drifted around a few dark streets after dinner in search of this nectar but in vain. The only inexplicable item in the diary this day is the solitary word "governesses"--it rings no bell at all.