Quebec! Beautiful Quebec! What a pageant of thoughts surge through my mind as the six little letters which compose that magic word drip from my pen. One great writer named it the “enchanted province,” thinking only of its natural beauty, as did Champlain nigh three hundred years ago when he wrote his royal master at Versailles of the new colony, “La belle du France.” The spell of beauty sprinkled its mist over this glorified province long before the great Cartier sailed up the majestic St. Lawrence, to cast the first anchor in the St. Charles River. The spell has remained, to grow and remain always as a thing apart, more entrancing even than Longfellow’s land of Evangeline. Its barbaric splendor rears its rugged head like a mighty queen who fosters no weaklings, bequeathing her earthly womb as a cradle of strong men.