Notre Dame de Victoire, built in the time of Louis XIV as a votive offering in thanksgiving for a victory gained over the English.
The very same flags and trophys captured then are still preserved in this church.
We saw the ice palace, on the summit of a hill, it was illuminated by electricity, and reminded me of Aladin's Castle in the fairy tale.
No one was allowed to go into it, but you could look in at the windows and doors, and see the wax figures dressed in fancy costumes.
You should have heard the joy bells, and the booming of the cannon from the citadel ushering in the New Year.
There was no discordant clang, no ear-splitting fog horns as in New York, but most of the churches having chimes, made an inspiriting melody.
The Basilica played the Te Deum, Adeste Fidelis, and the National Anthem.
We had midnight Mass in the Seminary, and no one went to bed until near morning.
I must tell you about a little girl we met in the street. She was carrying a doll in her arms when she slipped and fell; the doll was broken to pieces, the poor little thing knelt on the pavement and looked sadly at it, then bursting into tears and raising her eyes to heaven, she cried out: "Sainte Vièrge mon seul enfant est mort!" (Holy Virgin, my only child is dead!)