"Don't believe it!" said Uncle Prudent. And going to the bow they
looked out towards the western horizon.

"Another town," said Phil Evans.

"Do you recognize it?"

"Yes! It seems to me to be Montreal."

"Montreal? But we only left Quebec two hours ago!"

"That proves that we must be going at a speed of seventy-five miles
an hour."

Such was the speed of the aeronef; and if the passengers were not
inconvenienced by it, it was because they were going with the wind.
In a calm such speed would have been difficult and the rate would
have sunk to that of an express. In a head-wind the speed would have
been unbearable.

Phil Evans was not mistaken. Below the "Albatross" appeared Montreal,
easily recognizable by the Victoria Bridge, a tubular bridge thrown
over the St. Lawrence like the railway viaduct over the Venice
lagoon. Soon they could distinguish the town's wide streets, its huge
shops, its palatial banks, its cathedral, recently built on the model
of St. Peter's at Rome, and then Mount Royal, which commands the city
and forms a magnificent park.

Luckily Phil Evans had visited the chief towns of Canada, and could
recognize them without asking Robur. After Montreal they passed