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Century ll&gfizlne, Oot, 1^^5 
 
 By G.M, Grant, of '^ueen'a University, Klnp- 
 
 THE CANADA PACIFIC RAILWAY. 
 
 WHAT tempted the people of Canada to 
 undertake so gigantic a work as the 
 Canada Pacific Railway ? The difficulties in 
 the way were great, unprecedented, unknown. 
 Had they been known beforehand, the task 
 would not have been attempted. We were 
 under the inspiration of a national idea, and 
 went forward. We were determined to be 
 something more than a fortuitous collocation 
 of provinces. That the difficulties were faced 
 and overcome as they emerged, great temp- 
 tP.tions to halt or retreat being tjuietly set 
 , aside, proves that we, like our neighbors and 
 progenitors, are not easily discouraged. Our 
 ultimate destiny will be none the wcrse be- 
 cause we have — not unwillingly — made sac- 
 rifices in order to make ourselves a nation. 
 
 Roughly speaking, the new country through 
 which the great railway runs consists of three 
 sections, — about a thousand miles of forest 
 from the upper Ottawa to the Red River of 
 the North ; then a thousand miles of alluvial ; 
 and then five or six hundred miles of moun- 
 " ' tains, from the first chain of the Rockies to 
 r where the waters of the Pacific are sheltered 
 _ by the breakwater of Vancouver Island. The 
 , total length of the line from Montreal to the 
 Pacific terminus is 2895 miles. The first sec- 
 tion was long considered impracticable for a 
 T~railway, and the expense of construction has 
 ""been enormous. The rocks at the back of 
 Lake Superior are the oldest known to men 
 of science and the toughest known to engi- 
 neers. But dynamite, if there be enough of it, 
 can do anything. This part of the line was 
 opened last spring most dramatically, it being 
 used before actual completion to transport 
 our militia to put down the half-breed and 
 Indian rising in the North-west. No amount 
 of champagne-drinking and of driving last 
 spikes of gold could have called the attention 
 of the country so emphatically to its impor- 
 tance. The second section runs through what 
 promises to be the great granary of the world. 
 The third is being pushed across a sea oi 
 mountains. Thousands of navvies of all na- 
 tionalities are swarming in the valley of the 
 Columbia, and thousands of Chinese are 
 f working on the grade easterly. When this sec- 
 { tion is completed, and the shortest of all 
 .- transcontinental railways opened for traffic 
 J from ocean to ocean, Canada will have attained 
 to unification, so far as links of steel can unify. 
 The work is so completely a political neces- 
 sity that — along with the Intercolonial Rail- 
 way, which binds the Atlantic provinces to 
 
 old Canada — it may be called the symbol of 
 our national existence. Whether it will pay 
 the company financially or not is a question 
 on which experts differ. That it will develop 
 the country, and thus at any rate pay indirectly, 
 seems to me unquestionable. The Intercolo- 
 nial was run for a time at a cost to the Domin- 
 ion of over half a million dollars annually. It 
 now pays its way ; and though shorter through 
 lines are to be built, the increasing local traffic, 
 the best indication of the real value of the 
 road to the country, will keep it running. So, 
 too, the first section of the Canada Pacific 
 pierces a wilderness that wise men said would 
 not furnish business to pay for greasing the 
 wheels ; but it gets freight enough in the shape 
 of lumber alone to pay for the wheels as well 
 as the grease. It is revolutionizing the mode 
 of lumber transportation on the upper Ottawa 
 and to the West. The lumber kings find thiU 
 time is money. It is more i)rofitable to send 
 on logs to market by rail than to continue the 
 tedious plan of floating them, from the banks 
 of far-away lakes and nameless streams in the 
 interior, down countless rapids and slides to 
 unbroken waterways. The danger now is that 
 our timber limits, which constitute an essential 
 part of the national capital, may be exhausted 
 within a measurable time. With regard to the 
 rugged Laurentian regions to the north of 
 Lake Superior, unexplored as yet by men of 
 science, there are grounds for believing that 
 they will turn out to be as rich in mineral 
 wealth as the southern shores of the lake ; 
 and no business pays a railway so well as that 
 which a mining community supplies. Then, 
 the fertile plains of the North-west are certain 
 to yield harvests that will tax to the utmost 
 the carrying capacity of branch as well as 
 trunk lines. 
 
 These plains extend for eight hundred miles 
 west of Winnipeg. Originally a north-western 
 in.-iicad of a western route from Winnipeg had 
 been chosen for the railway, because every one 
 said that the only " fertile belt " was in that 
 direction. This " l)elt," or rainbow, of fertile 
 land swept semicircularly round a su iposed 
 great wedge of the American desert. Lut the 
 company came to the conclusion that the 
 plains west of Winnipeg had been belied, and 
 that the rainfall was sufficient for the growth 
 of cereals or root crops. Singularly enough, 
 their faith has been vindicated ; it turns out 
 that we have no desert. This fact is a physical 
 reality of the greatest importance with regard 
 to the area in the North-west available for 
 
 236ol 8 
 
THE BOSTONIANS. 
 
 88 1 
 
 things, asked herself whether they were what 
 he was thinking of when he said, for instance, 
 that he was sick of all the modern cant about 
 freedom and had no sympathy with those 
 who wanted an extension of it. What was 
 needed for the good of the world was that 
 people should make a better use of the liberty 
 they possessed. Such declarations as this took 
 Verena's breath away ; she didn't suppose you 
 could hear any one say that in the nineteenth 
 century, even the least advanced. It was of 
 a piece with his denouncing the spread of 
 education ; he thought the spread of education 
 a gigantic farce — people stuffing their heads 
 with a lot of empty catchwords that prevented 
 them from doing their work fjuietly and 
 honestly. You had a right to an education 
 only if you had an intelligence, and if you 
 looked at the matter with any desire to see 
 things as they are, you soon perceived that an 
 intelligence was a very rare luxury, the attri- 
 bute of one person in a hundred. He seemed 
 to take a pretty low view of humanity, any- 
 way. Verena hoped that something really 
 pretty bad had happened to him — not by way 
 of gratifying any resentment he aroused in 
 her nature, but to help herself to forgive him 
 for so much contempt and brutality. She 
 wanted to forgive him, for after they had sat 
 on their bench half an hour and his jesting 
 mood had abated a little, so that he talked 
 with more consideration (as it seemed) and 
 more sincerity, a strange feeling came over 
 her, a perfect willingness not to keep insisting 
 on her own side and a desire not to part fron. 
 him with a mere accentuation of their differ- 
 ences. Strange I call the nature of her re- 
 flections, for they softly battled with each 
 other as she listened, in the warm, still air, 
 touched with the far-away hum of the immense 
 city, to his deep, sweet, distinct voice, express- 
 ing monstrous opinions with exotic cadences 
 and mild, familiar laughs, which, as he leaned 
 towards her, almost tickled her cheek and ear. 
 It seemed to her strangely harsh, almost 
 
 brutal, to have brought her out only to say 
 to her things which, after all, free as she was 
 to contradict them and good-natured as she 
 always tried to be, could only give her pain; 
 yet there was a spell upon her as she listened; 
 It was in her nature to be easily submissive, 
 to like being overborne. She could be silent 
 when people insisted, and silent without acri- 
 mony. Her whole relation to Olive was a 
 kind of tacit assent to perpetual insistance, 
 and if this had ended by being easy and 
 agreeable to her (and indeed had never been 
 anything else), it may be supposed that the 
 struggle of yielding to a will which she felt to 
 be stronger even than Olive's was not of long 
 duration. Ransom's will had the effect of 
 making her linger even while she knew the 
 afternoon was going on, that Olive would 
 have come back and found her still absent, 
 and would have been submerged again in the 
 bitter waves of anxiety. She saw her, in fact, 
 as she must be at that moment, posted at the 
 window of her room in Tenth street, watching 
 for some sign of her return, listening for her 
 step on the staircase, her voice in the hall. 
 Verena looked at this image as at a painted 
 picture, perceived all it represented, every 
 detail. If it didn't move her more, make 
 her start to her feet, dart away from Basil 
 Ransom and hurry back to her friend, this 
 was because the very torment to which she 
 was conscious of subjecting that friend made 
 her say to herself that it must be the very 
 last. This was the last time she could ever 
 sit by Mr. Ransom and hear him express 
 himself in a manner that interfered so wi^h 
 her 'ife ; the ordeal had been so familiar and 
 so complete that she forgot, for the moment, 
 that it was also the first time it had occurred. 
 It might have been going on for months. She 
 was perfectly aware that it could bring them 
 to nothing, for one must lead one's own life ; 
 it was impossible to lead the life of another, 
 especially when the person was so different, 
 so arbitrary, so inconsiderate. 
 
 settll 
 
 prac 
 
 hun 
 
 with! 
 
 praiJ 
 
 Nor) 
 
 fifty] 
 
 enoL 
 
 worll 
 
 0"o be continueii.) 
 
 Henry James. 
 
88i 
 
 t only to say 
 :e as she was 
 itured as she 
 ive her pain; 
 she Hstened ; 
 y submissive, 
 uld be silent 
 without acri- 
 Olive was a 
 il insistance, 
 ig easy and 
 J never been 
 bed that the 
 :h she felt to 
 s not of long 
 le effect of 
 he knew the 
 Dlive would 
 still absent, 
 again in the 
 her, in fact, 
 osted at the 
 et, watching 
 ling for her 
 in the hall. 
 It a painted 
 nted, every 
 iiore, make 
 from Basil 
 friend, this 
 
 which she 
 riend made 
 e the very 
 could ever 
 im express 
 ed so wi^h 
 miliar and 
 e moment, 
 ! occurred, 
 mths. She 
 ring them 
 
 own life; 
 f another, 
 
 difterent. 
 
 James. 
 
 THE CANADA PACIFIC RAILWAY. 
 
 883 
 
 ^ 
 
 settlement. That area is now known to be 
 practically illimitable. The waves of a great 
 human sea will in a short time roll steadily on, 
 without break, from the boundary line to the 
 prairies of the mighty Peace River, That new 
 North-west of ours will a century hence have 
 fifty millions of people, and they will raise 
 enough to feed themselves and the rest of the 
 world, if need be. 
 
 Manitobans, it may be said here, have also 
 great expectations of being able to export 
 directly to Liverpool by Hudson's Bay, and 
 of being thus independent of Chicago and 
 Montreal alike. Should such an alternative 
 route prove a reality, it would serve the whole 
 Red River valley, as well as the Saskatchewan. 
 Last year the Dominion (lovernment sent out 
 a well-etjuipped vessel to ascertain definitely 
 for how many months in the year the Hudson's 
 Bay Straits are navigable, and other facts 
 bearing on the question at issue. Parties were 
 left at different points along the coast to 
 winter, and make all needed observations. 
 We shall soon know whether it is worth while 
 constructing a railway to Fort Churchill. 
 Dr. Robert Bell, Assistant Director of the 
 Dominion Geological Survey, is sanguine that 
 the produce of the North-west will have a new 
 outlet in this dir-ction. If so, it will be a potent 
 factor in the development of those far inland 
 fertile wildernesses. But this line to Hudson's 
 Bay is as yet in the air. For years to come the 
 North-west must be served by tht Canada 
 Pacific Railway. But how came it that the 
 greater part of the country directly west from 
 Winnipeg to the Rocky Mountains was once 
 supposed to be semi-desert ? Captain Palliser, 
 who was sent with a well-organi::ed expedition 
 by Her Majesty's Government, in 1857, to 
 explore the country between Lake Superior 
 and the Rocky Mountains, found it rainless 
 and condemned it. Superficial observers who 
 visited it subsequently, and looked only at 
 the short russet-colored grass that covered its 
 illimitable, treeless, terribly lonely plains, had 
 no hesitation in confirming his oj)inion. But 
 five or six years ago Mr. John Maccoun. an ac- 
 complished practical botanist, after exploring 
 it lengthways and crossways and thoroughly 
 examining soil, flora, and fauna, gave testimony 
 of ail entirely opposite character. He was de- 
 rided as an enthusiast or worse, but his opinions 
 had probably something to do with determin- 
 ing the new route taken by the Canada Pacific 
 Railway; and in 1881 and 1882 setders, ignor- 
 ing the proved fertility of the " fertile belt," 
 or postponing its claims to a more convenient 
 season, took up land along the railway almost as 
 fast as it was constructed. They found that the 
 soil was actually better for their purposes than 
 the heavy tenacious loam of the Red River 
 
 valley, just because it was lighter. Population 
 flowed for some four hundred miles west of 
 Winnipeg to the little towns of Regina and 
 Moosegaw. There the masses of drift that 
 constitute the " Coteau " of the Missouri show 
 themselves, and there it was then said the 
 good land ceased. The railway was built in 
 the early part of 1883 four hundred miles 
 farther west, and soon after Mr. Sandford 
 Fleming and myself had sufficient oppor- 
 tunities of examining the nature of the soil. 
 Far from being barren, " it resembles," says 
 Mr. Fleming, " in color and character that of 
 the Carse of Gowrie in Perthshire," notoriously 
 the most pr^. ductive district in Scotland. 
 
 But why, then, had those vast plains been 
 condemned ? Because there is very little rain 
 in the summer months ; and because observers 
 could not fail to notice that the grass was 
 light, short, dry, and apparently withered. 
 To their eyes it contrasted most unfavorably 
 with the luxuriant green herbage of the well- 
 watered belt along the North Saskatchewan. 
 It did not occur to them that the grass of the 
 plains might be the product of peculiar atmos- 
 pheric conditions, and that what had been 
 food in former days for countless millions of 
 buffaloes, whose favorite resorts these plains 
 had been, would in all probability be good food 
 for domestic cattle. The facts are that spring 
 comes early in these far western districts, and 
 that the grass matures in the beginning of 
 June, and turns into nutritious hay. If burned, 
 there is sufficient moisture in the soil to i)ro- 
 tluce a second growth. We saw at difterent 
 points, towards the end of August, green 
 patches where Mttle prairie fires had run <;ome 
 weeks previously. If there is enough moisture 
 for such a second crop, it seemed clear to us 
 that there must be enough for cereals. The 
 fact is that the roots of wheat penetrate to a 
 great depth in search of moisture or nutriment. 
 The intense cold of winter, instead of being a 
 drawback, acts in the farmer's interest. The 
 deeper the frost goes, the better. As it thaws 
 out gradually in the summer it loosens the 
 sub-soil, and sends up the needed moisture to 
 the roots of the grain. Coal, too, of cretaceous 
 age, being abundant, no one who is at all 
 robust objects to the intense dry cold. Suf- 
 ficient moisture being all but certain, the 
 lack of rain makes harvesting sure, while 
 the purity and dryness of the air and the con- 
 tinual breeziness render the climate most 
 healthful and pleasant. But, notwithstanding 
 these facts, the impression was general that, 
 at any rate from le grand Coteau dti Missouri 
 to the Rocky Mountains, the country was 
 worthless. The company, therefore,determined 
 to try experiments that would be conclusive. 
 Late in the autumn of 1883 men were sent 
 
884 
 
 THE CANADA PACIFIC RAILWAY. 
 
 out with instructions to plow up a few acres 
 at intervals of about twenty miles along the 
 line. This work was done, necessarily, in 
 rough-and-ready fashion. The sod was turned 
 up, and then the teams, put on board the next 
 train, were moved on to another point. The 
 following March seeds of various kinds were 
 sown on the plowed sections and roots 
 planted. No attempt at cultivating, cleaning, 
 or protecting could be made, and yet the 
 result was a magnificent crop on the experi- 
 mental " farms." Every one who knows any- 
 thing of prairie farming will acknowledge that 
 a more rigorous test could not have been tried. 
 The south of the beautiful Bow River is the 
 chosen country of o"r cow-boys, a race — from 
 Texas to the North — free, fearless, and pe- 
 culiar, to whom all the rest of the world are 
 " tenderfeet," and in whose eyes horse-stealing 
 is the unpardonable sin. 'Fhe transport to 
 England of cattle from this district, and ul- 
 timately from the adjoining territories of 
 Montana and Idaho, is certain to supply steady 
 business to the railway; and the transport of 
 coal on a large scale to Manitoba from the 
 vast deposits which are being opened up near 
 Medicine Hat and the head-waters of the 
 Saskatchewan is still more certain. The Bow 
 River, which takes its name from its repeated 
 windings and doublings like an ox-bow, 
 guides the railway into the mountains. The 
 wide valley, inclosed by foot-hills, not very 
 long ago the favorite haunt of the buffalo, is 
 divided into ranches. These and all other 
 industries in southern Alberta converge at 
 Calgarry, an enterprising little town, once a 
 Hudson's Bay fort, on a site of ideal beauty. 
 It fronts the illimitable plains; snow-peaked 
 mountains. Devil's Head preeminent, tower 
 up behind; and two impetuous glacier-fed 
 streams meet in the natural amphitheater 
 that has been scooped out of the surrounding 
 hills to give it ample rodn to spread itself. 
 Forty miles farther up the river, and so much 
 nearer the best hunting-grounds in the moun- 
 tains, two villages of Stonies have gathered 
 round the Methodist Mission of Morley, — a 
 brave and hardy triba of mountaineers who, 
 like their while neighlors, are taking to stock- 
 raising, as they can no longer live by hunting. 
 The railway climbs the valley of the Bow, 
 crossing and recrossing, past Morley, past the 
 mass of rock five thousand feet high called 
 Cascade Mountain, where anthracite coal has 
 been discovered, past the chiseled turrets of 
 Castle Mountain, and into the core of the 
 range, till within six miles of the summit, where 
 it abandons the river and strikes up the bed 
 of one of its tributaries. 
 
 The railway terminus in September, 1883, 
 being Calgarry, tourists generally stopped 
 
 there ; but our party determined to push on 
 to the Pacific. Four ranges of mountains in- 
 tervened — the Rockies, the Selkirks,the Gold, 
 and the Cascades. One engineer told us that 
 it was prol)lematical whether we should get 
 through. Another said that we should not. 
 We determined to try, and we now congratulate 
 ourselves that we were the first to cross from 
 one side of the four ranges to the other side, on 
 ' he line on which the railway is constructed. 
 
 It was a journey to be remembered. I have 
 seen many countries, but I know none where 
 there are such magnificent rock-exjjosures 
 for a hundred miles continuously as up the 
 valley of the Bow, from Calgarry to the sum- 
 mit of the Rockies. The general elevation of 
 the valley is between four and five thousand 
 feet, and the mountains on each side are 
 only from one to six thousand feet higher; 
 consequently, the beauty does not consist in 
 the altitude of the mountains. Beside the 
 Andes or even the Alps they are hardly worth 
 speaking about; but nothing can be finer than 
 the distinct stratification, the variety of form 
 and clearness of outline, the great masses of 
 bare rock standing out as if piled by masons 
 and carved and chiseled by sculptors. Pho- 
 tography alone could bring out their amazing 
 richness in detail. Scenes of gloomy grandeur 
 present themselves at every point for several 
 miles along the summit ; and down the west- 
 ern slope the views at times are even more 
 striking. But our journey down the Kicking 
 Horse should be read in the " England and 
 Canada " of the distinguished engineer with 
 whom I traveled, by those who wish to know 
 more of our experiences. 
 
 When we crossed the Rockies the hitherto 
 nnconciuered Selkirks rose before us. To un- 
 derstand the position of this range, take a 
 map and look for the springs of the Columbia. 
 This greatest of salmon rivers rises in Canada, 
 and runs north-west so persistently that it 
 appears doomed to fall into the Eraser. But, 
 reaching the neighborhood of Mounts Brown 
 and Hooker, it seems to have had enough of us,, 
 and accordingly, sweeping right round in a 
 " Big Bend," it makes straight for Washington 
 Territory, cutting through all obstacles, the 
 Dalles with the significant Dalle de Mart, and 
 then spreads out into long, broad, calm expanses 
 known as the Upper and Lower Arrow Lakes. 
 \Vithin that great loop which it makes on our 
 soil are inclosed the Selkirks. As they extend 
 only to the Big Bend of the Columbia, our engi- 
 neers had no concern with them when it was 
 supposed that the Canada Pacific Railway 
 was to run farther north ; but when the com- 
 pany decided that they must have as nearly 
 as possible an air-line from Winnipeg west 
 to the ocean, the question of whether a pass. 
 
 coull 
 
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 tour] 
 
 Big 
 
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 plair 
 
 backl 
 
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 alonJ 
 
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 two 
 
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 the 
 
 Selki^ 
 
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 Mob^ 
 
 theSe 
 
THE CANADA PACIFIC RAILWAY. 
 
 885 
 
 1 to push on 
 lour.tains in- 
 ks, the Gold, 
 ■ told us that 
 ; should get 
 should not. 
 congratulate 
 cross from 
 ther side, on 
 nstructed. 
 ■red. I have 
 none where 
 :k-exposures 
 f as up the 
 to the sum- 
 elevation of 
 /e thousand 
 h side are 
 "eet higher; 
 t consist in 
 Beside the 
 ardly worth 
 )e finer than 
 ety of form 
 t masses of 
 by masons 
 )tors. Pho- 
 sir amazing 
 ly grandeur 
 for several 
 n the west- 
 even more 
 le Kicking 
 gland and 
 neer with 
 to know 
 
 le hitherto 
 To un- 
 take a 
 Columbia. 
 
 Canada, 
 that it 
 iscr. But, 
 Its Brown 
 ugh of us,, 
 und in a 
 ishington 
 icles, the 
 Mart, and 
 expanses 
 w Lakes. 
 
 s on our 
 y extend 
 our engi- 
 
 n it was. 
 
 Railway 
 
 he com- 
 nearly 
 
 eg west 
 
 r a pass. 
 
 "■e 
 
 'y 
 
 could be found across the Selkirks became 
 important. If no pass could be found, a ilc- 
 tour must be made away to the North by the 
 Big Bend. Passes were known to exist through 
 the other three ranges that rise between the 
 plains and the Pacific. The Rockies proper, the 
 backbone of this continent, are cloven north 
 of the boundary line by half a dozen rivers, 
 along the valley of any one of which a railway 
 could be carried with ease to a summit where 
 another stream is generally found beginning 
 its course down the western slope. Then, the 
 two ranges nearest the Pacific have also open 
 gates wide enough for a railway. But between 
 the Gold Mountains and the Rockies rose the 
 Selkirks, apparently without a break. When 
 asked about a pa.ss here, the Indians shook 
 their heads ; so did the engineers, Mr. Walter 
 Moberly excepted. He knew something about 
 the Selkirks ; but though he pointed out the v/ay , 
 to another fell the honor of solving the problem. 
 Moberly had discovered a first-rate pass in 
 1865 through the Gold Mountains, greatly 
 to the satisfaction of himself and all British 
 Columbia. Gold had been found by enterpris- 
 ing prospectors at the Big Bend, and the pro- 
 vincial government, anxious to have a trail cut 
 from the navigable waters in the heart of the 
 colony to the new Eldorado, sent Moberly, 
 then assistant jurveyor-general, to explore. 
 One day, not far from Shuswap Lake, among 
 tangled mountains choked with dense under- 
 brush and fallen timber, valleys radiating to 
 every point of the compass, but leading no- 
 where, he saw an eagle flying to the east up 
 one of the valleys. Accepting the omen, he 
 followed and discovered the pass which he 
 calledafter the eagle, though it mightmore fitly 
 be called by his own name. Previous to this the 
 Gold range had been supposed to be "an un- 
 broken and impassable wall of mountains," but, 
 thanks to Moberly, a wagon-road could now 
 be made from the settled part of the province 
 to the Columbia, to be followed — he was con- 
 vinced — by a railway that would in due time 
 extend to the fertile plains of the North-west. 
 If a pass could only be found across the Sel- 
 kirks, he felt that his work would be completed. 
 He sent one and then another of his statit'to ex- 
 plore, but their reports were discouraging. 
 His Indians knew nothing, except thai iliey 
 could not take their canoes that way. When 
 they wished to get to the other side of the 
 range, they descended the Columbia, and 
 then crossed over to its head-waters by the 
 Kootenay River. To them time was no object. 
 Indians will go a hundred miles in a canoe, 
 or ride across a prairie for the same distance, 
 rather than cut through a mile of brush. In a 
 forest they will walk for a hundred yards 
 round a fallen tree, and others will continue 
 
 for years to follow the trail, rather than be at 
 the trouble of cutting through the obstruction. 
 Moberly did not despair. He saw a fracture 
 in the range, almost corresponding to the 
 fracture of the Eagle Pass in the Gold range. 
 Crossing the Columbia, though it was late in 
 the season, and entering the mouth of this 
 fracture, he forced his way up the banks of a 
 stream called the Ille-Cille-Waet, chocolate- 
 colored from the grains of slate it holds in 
 solution. Twenty or thirty miles from its 
 mouth the Ille-Cille-Waet forked. Trying 
 the north fork, it led him into the slate range, 
 intersected by innumerable veins of promising- 
 looking quartz that prospectors have yet to 
 test, but to nothing like a pass. His Indians 
 then struck. He used every means to induce 
 them to go with him up the east fork, but 
 in vain. The snow had begun to fall on the 
 mountains, and they said that they would be 
 caught and would never get out again. Re- 
 luctantly Moberly turned back, and as the 
 colony could afibrd no more explorations, 
 the Big Bend diggings not turning out as had 
 been anticipated, he had to content himself 
 with putting on record that the easterly fork 
 of the Ille-Cille-Waet should be examined 
 before a route for a transcontinental railway 
 was finally determined on. 
 
 Thus it happened that up to 1881 no man 
 had crossed the virgin range. It was covered 
 with heavy timber almost up to the snow-line. 
 Without let or hindrance herds of noble car- 
 ibou trotted along ancestral trails to their 
 feeding-grounds or to water. Bears — black, 
 brown, cinnamon, and grizzly — foundin shel- 
 tered valleys exhaustless supplies of the 
 berries on which they grow fat. From the 
 opposite flanks of the range, east and west, 
 short swollen streams rush down to join the 
 Columbia, their sands often indicating gold ; 
 while on the south, where the drainage flows 
 into the Kootenay Lake and River, which also 
 feed the Columbia, rich mines of argentiferous 
 galena are now being worked. But no one 
 knew of a pass. 
 
 In February, 1881, the Syndicate appointed 
 Major A. B. Rogers, C. E., engineer of the 
 Mountain Division of the Canada Pacific Rail- 
 way. He seemed about as unlikely a man for 
 the work of ascertaining whether the Selkirks 
 problem was soluble as could have been 
 chosen. He knew Httle or nothing of moun- 
 tains; his previous experiences had been in 
 States where there is no counterpart to the 
 characteristic scenery and difliculties of Brit- 
 ish Columbia. But Major Rogers, like a true 
 descendant of the Pilgrim or Puritan fathers, 
 is a man who goes to the particular wilder- 
 ness to which he may be appointed, asking 
 no questions. Naturally intense, self-reliant, 
 
886 
 
 THE CANADA PACIFIC RAILWAY. 
 
 and scornful of appearances, the opposite 
 schooling of an old-fashioned Down-Kast 
 training, the rough experiences of engineer 
 and frontier life have made him so downright 
 that he is apt to he appalling to ordinary 
 mortals, I'hougii between tifty and sixty 
 years of age, hair and beard now white, no 
 youngster in his ])arty will plunge into the 
 grimmest mountain ranges with as little thought 
 of commissariat or as comjjlete a contempt 
 of danger, and no Indian will encounter fa- 
 tigue or famine as stoically. Hard as nails 
 himself, he exjjects others who take service 
 with him to endure hardness; and should there 
 be shirking, he is ajit to show his worst side 
 rather than be guilty of what he has scorned 
 as hypocrisy in others. He fitted out at Kam- 
 loops for his first attempt on the Selkirks. 
 The wonder is that he did not start with ritle 
 on shoulder and a j)iece of i)ork in his pocket, 
 two or three Indians pcrha])S carrying blank- 
 ets and a few fixings; for at that time he 
 thought that a gun ought to feed a party. 
 He does not think so now. Man can have 
 but one paradise at a time. If he goes into 
 the mountains to hunt, he can do that ; if to 
 prospect, he can do that, with a slightly dif- 
 ferent outfit ; if to discover a pass or to get 
 through to a given point by a given date, he 
 may or may not succeed, — but it is (juite cer- 
 tain that he cannot combine the three char- 
 acters, or even two, on the one expedition. 
 A bear or caribou may lead you miles from 
 your course ; and if you shoot him, your In- 
 dians have a capital excuse for delay, while they 
 regard the meat as simply so much "kitchin" 
 to their stock of pork and bacon. 
 
 irhe Major and his nephew, Mr. Albert 
 Rogers, hiring at Kamloops ten Shuswap In- 
 dians from the Roman Catholic Mission to 
 carry their jjacks, started in April to force their 
 way to the east. They succeeded in reaching 
 the core of the Selkirk range, by following the 
 east fork of the Ille-Cille-Waet ; but, like 
 Moberly on the north fork, they got only to a 
 cul lie sac, and their packs having become 
 ominously light, they — heavy with the con- 
 sciousness of failure — came to the conclu- 
 sion that retreat was inevitable. Before 
 retracing their steps, however, they climbed 
 the divide to see if any break could be detected 
 in the range. Yes ; a valley appeared in the 
 direction of an unexplored little affluent of 
 the Ille-Cille-Waet, and, apparently connected 
 with it, a depression extending to the east. 
 Everywhere else, all around to the horizon, 
 nothing but "snow-clad desolation." The 
 result of five or six weeks' endurance of almost 
 intolerable misery was this gleam of hope. 
 
 Our journey enabled us to understand what 
 they must have suffered. The underbrush is 
 
 of the densest, owing to the ceaseless rain 
 Black flies or mosijuitoes do their part un 
 weariedly. What with fallen timber of enor 
 mous size, i)recipices, prickly thorns, beave 
 dams, marshes full of fetid water to be wade< 
 through, alder swamps, lakelets surrounde( 
 by blufts so steep that it would almost puzzl 
 a chamois to get over or around them, we ha( 
 all we wanted of the lUe-Cille-Waet and tht 
 Kagle Pass. But they had started too earl; 
 in the season. The snow was not only deep 
 but it was melting and rotting under sprinj 
 suns and rains, and therefore would not bea 
 their weight. Down they sank at every step 
 and often intc the worst kind of pitfalls. A 
 first their loads were so heavy that they ha< 
 to leave part behind, and then, after campin; 
 early, return wearily on their tracks for th 
 second load. The Indians would have de 
 serted them a dozen times over, but the Majo 
 had arranged with the Mission that if the 
 returned without a certificate they were to gt 
 a whipping instead of good pay. Nothing bu 
 pluck kept them pegging away ; but in spit 
 of all they failed that year. The following Ma 
 the Major made his attack from the other sid 
 of the range, and again he was unsuccessfu 
 Swollen torrents and scarcity of supplit 
 forced him back to his base, at the poir 
 where the Kicking Horse River joins th 
 Columbia. On this occasion, had it not bee 
 for the discovery of a canoe, he and his part 
 would have starved. Sorely against their wi 
 he had put them on half rations, but he glac 
 dened their hearts one morning by announcin 
 that it was his birthday, and producing a litt! 
 sugar to sweeten their tea. 
 
 Nothing daunted, he started again th 
 same summer, in the month of July, from th 
 same base, and succeeded. Proceeding u 
 the valley of tlni Beaver, a large stream thi 
 enters the Columbia through an open canoi 
 and then following the course of one of i 
 tributaries a])propriately called Bear Creel 
 he at length found the long-sought-for pas 
 He saw the mountain from the summit c 
 which the year before he and his nephew ha 
 noticed the depression extending to the eas 
 Not content while anything remained undon 
 he made for the Ille-Cille-Waet, and followir 
 it down to the north fork, ascended it to 
 to ascertain if its head-waters would conne 
 with a tributary of the Beaver, and so perha 
 afford something better ; but nothing bett< 
 or rather nothing at all, was found. The Si 
 kirks have only one pass, but it is better th; 
 the western slope of the main chain by t 
 Kicking Horse. And an American has h 
 the honor of finding that one on behalf 
 Canada ! All honor to him I 
 
 Compared with our experiences down t 
 
 iO 
 JUt! 
 
 :an( 
 
 Dftl 
 
 The 
 over 
 
 i)Ott 
 
 endi 
 Bea\ 
 then 
 dens 
 of th 
 Our 
 fit-lo( 
 down 
 Majo 
 T]ie>- 
 and h 
 been ] 
 Jiarty 
 beside 
 seen a 
 ziy. I 
 confid( 
 are sti] 
 to do 1 
 the sui 
 such a 
 the traj 
 high bJ 
 black bj 
 grapes, 
 we colli 
 ing. tI 
 cluster^ 
 ered th] 
 dar thai 
 feet, if 
 garden] 
 surely 
 open m| 
 Major 
 party 
 pointedl 
 Summi( 
 posiie el 
 our ye\J 
 cheer ii| 
 moss-gi 
 the storl 
 of morij 
 not be 
 hotel ! 'j 
 AmericJ 
 glaciers] 
 above t| 
 having i 
 giving 
 
THE CANADA PAC/F/C JiAIl.lVAY. 
 
 887 
 
 s rain 
 
 irt un 
 I' enor 
 heave 
 wadec 
 ounde< 
 t puzzl 
 we hat 
 and th' 
 )o earl; 
 ly deep 
 r sprini 
 not bea 
 ery step 
 falls. A 
 they hat 
 campin; 
 s for th 
 have dt 
 ;he Majo 
 It if the- 
 ere to gt 
 )thing bu 
 Lit in spit 
 wing Ma 
 other sid 
 successfu 
 f suppli*. 
 the poir 
 ■ joins th 
 it not bee 
 d his part 
 St their wi 
 ut he glai 
 mnouncin 
 cing a litt 
 
 again tt 
 .y, from th 
 ceeding u 
 stream th: 
 jpen canoi 
 (f one of i 
 Bear Creel 
 ;ht-for pas 
 summit t 
 nephew ha 
 r to the eas 
 ined undon 
 ntl foUowir 
 nded it to 
 ould conne 
 d so perha 
 iihing bett( 
 lid. The St 
 is better th; 
 chain by t 
 ican has h 
 on behalf 
 
 :es down t 
 
 kicking Horse, the ascent of the eastern sloi)e 
 )f the Sclkirks was remarkably easy. The 
 
 alley of the Beaver contracts near its mouth, 
 io it is no wonder that observers from the 
 jutside formed an incorrect idea of its impor- 
 ;ance. The llle-C'ilie-Waet on the other sitle 
 Df the range ends its course in tlie same way. 
 The two streams by which the Sclkirks are 
 overcome are thus something like two long 
 bottles with their narrow necks facing antl 
 ending in the Col il)ia. The trail uj) the 
 Beaver led througli lorests of great cellars, and 
 then of noble spruce, hemlot k, antl j)ine, so 
 dense that il was impossible to get any views 
 of the range before reaching the Rogers Pass. 
 Our first evening was spent with a ])leasant, 
 fit-looking lot of fellows, who were working 
 down from the summit under the leadership of 
 Major Critchelow, a West Point graduate. 
 They did all they could for us, sharing tents 
 and blankets, as well as porridge, as if we had 
 been life-long comrades. Major Critchelow's 
 party hatl been at work for three months, and, 
 besides caribou and other large game, had 
 seen about fifty bears, chiefly black and griz- 
 zly. I can, with a reasonable measure of 
 confidence, assure sportsmen that the bears 
 are still there, for the engineers were too busy 
 to do much hunting. We saw on our ride to 
 the summit next morning why the jilace was 
 such a favorite bear center. On both sides of 
 the trail grew an extraordinary i)rofusion of 
 high bushes laden with delicious wild fruits, 
 blackberries and gooseberries as large as small 
 grapes, and half a dozen other varieties, that 
 we could i)ick by handfuls without dismount- 
 ing. The rowan-tree droojjed its rich red 
 clusters over the bushes, and high above tow- 
 ered the magnificent forest primeval, one ce- 
 dar that we passed having a diameter of nine 
 feet. It was like riding through a deserted 
 garden. Emerging from the forest, after a lei- 
 surely three hours' ride, into a saucer-shajied 
 open meadow covered with tall thick grass, 
 Major Rogers, who had kindly joined our 
 party at the mouth of the Kicking Horse, 
 ])ointed to a little stream, saying, " That is 
 Summit Creek, and there," pointing totheop- 
 jiosile end of the meadow, " is the summit where 
 our yew stake is planted." We gave a hearty 
 cheer in his honor, and taking our seats on a 
 moss-grown natural rockery, heard him recount 
 the story of the discovery of the pass. A scene 
 of more mingled grandeur and beauty could 
 not be desired. " Such a spot for a summer 
 hotel ! " would, I think, be the first cry of an 
 American tourist. Snow-covered mountains, 
 glaciers accumulating in lofty comb, and high 
 above the snow, the looser shales of the peaks 
 having weathered off, fantastic columns of rock 
 giving to each mountain form an individual- 
 
 ity that stam|)sit permanently on the memory; 
 while we in the sunny valley at their feet tlineil 
 on wiltl fruit, and our horses rolled contentedly 
 among the deep succulent grasses ! Syntlicate, 
 thetlistinctive peak among the mountains at the 
 summit, is a veritable CanatlianMatterht)rn,bul 
 it is not seen till you begin the western descent. 
 
 The Selkirks tlid ntu let us off so easily as 
 we hatl hoped from our experience of the as- 
 cent. Where the trail ended the Major gave 
 us his nephew as a guide antl half a dozen atii- 
 letic, obliging young men to carry our i)acks 
 to the second crtjssing of the Columbia. I 
 shall never attempt to jjioneer through a wil- 
 tlerness again, much less to carry a pack ; and 
 (if all wiltlcrnesses, commend me to those t)f 
 British Columbia as the best possible .samples 
 to test wind and limb. It would simply weary 
 readers to go into details of struggling through 
 acres ot tlensest untlerbrush where you cannot 
 see a yard ahead, wailing through swamjjs antl 
 beaver dams, getting scratched from eyes to 
 ankles with jmckly thorns, scaling ])recipices, 
 falling over moss-coveretl rocks into pitfalls, 
 your ])acks almost strangling you, losing the 
 rest of the j^arty while you halt to feel all over 
 whether any bones are broken, and then ex- 
 periencing in your inmost soul the unutterable 
 loneliness of savage mountains. Those who 
 have not tried would not understand. It ttjok 
 us five days to make seventeen miles, and we 
 did our best. Right glad were we to see the 
 Columbia again, a river now twelve hundred 
 feet wide, full from bank to bank, sweeping 
 ])ast this time to the south with a current of 
 six or seven miles an hour. We struck it nearly 
 opposite the Big Eddy, and one or two tents 
 and a group of Indians among the aspens on 
 the bank a little farther down comforted us 
 with the thought that we could at any rate 
 get what man considers the one thing neetl- 
 ful in the wilderness — a supply of food. It 
 might have an evil smell, but it would be food ; 
 and starvation, at any rate, was now out of the 
 question. Back a little from the noble river 
 rose the (iold Mountains, cloven almost to the 
 feet by the P2agle Pass. 
 
 The Indians came across in their canoes 
 and ferried us over; and we spent the night 
 on the river bank, well to windward of Camp 
 Siwash. Under a half-moon shining in a blue, 
 cloudless sky, a great glacier on our right re- 
 flected a ghostly light, and every peak came 
 out clearly defined in the pure atmosphere. 
 The rush of the great river and the muffled 
 roar of the distant falls of the Ille-Cille-Waet 
 alone broke the perfect stillness. Four or five 
 camp-fires seen through the trees, with dusky 
 figures silently flitting about, gave life to the 
 scene. Reclining on spruce boughs, softer and 
 more fragrant than beds of down, we felt the 
 
8H( 888 
 
 THE CANADA PACIFIC RAILWAY. 
 
 nn( 
 
 sch 
 tra' 
 an( 
 tha 
 mo 
 yej 
 yo 
 
 Kn 
 of 
 of 
 
 ti« 
 hit 
 wi 
 be 
 ra' 
 as 
 loi 
 Tl 
 or 
 x\\ 
 et 
 th 
 H 
 In 
 til 
 
 P' 
 fe 
 
 tl- 
 
 111 
 
 tc 
 ai 
 h 
 
 y 
 d 
 
 ri 
 t( 
 
 P 
 d 
 c 
 
 charm of frontier or backwoods life. Two or 
 three hours after, awakened by rain first pat- 
 tering on tent and leaves and then pouring 
 down in earnest, the charm was forgotten. 
 One had left his boots outside, another had 
 hung his clothes near the camp-fire, and we 
 knew that the men were lying on the ground, 
 rolled in their blankets, and that to-morrow 
 every pack would be fifty per cent, heavier to 
 carry. We were still in the rainy region. P2ve 
 night but one since leaving the summit oft 
 Selkirks there had been rain with thunder anc. 
 lightning; and yet, in spite of the discomfort, 
 not a man showed a sign of discontent. Syb- 
 arites still growl over their crumpled rose- 
 leaves, but the race is not deteriorating. 
 
 Before leaving Winnipeg Mr. T'leming had 
 telegraphed to Hudson's Hay officials in Hrit- 
 ish Columbia to send a party from Kamloops 
 to meet us with provisions at some point on 
 the Columbia near the mouth of the F'.agle 
 Pass. When we saw the Indians every one 
 was sure that the Kamloops party had reached 
 the rendezvous before us. Our disappointment 
 was brief, for the same evening half a dozen 
 men were heard hallooing and struggling 
 through the pass. This was our eagerly ex- 
 jjected party, and great and natural was the 
 delight at making such wonderfully close con- 
 nections in a trackless wilderness ; but our 
 countenances fell when, asking for the provi- 
 sions, the leader simply handed us a large 
 sheet of foolscaj) on which was inscribed in 
 fine legible hand a list of supplies cached at a 
 distance of some days' journey ! They had 
 been able to carry barely enough for them- 
 selves, and had we not wisely husbanded 
 our pork and flour, they and we might have 
 starved. 
 
 Next morning we started up the Eagle Pass, 
 with our sheet of foolscap and the Kam- 
 loops men. They brought us good news at 
 any rate. In three or four days we should get 
 to horses and supplies, and in a day or two 
 thereafter to a wagon-road that had been 
 commenced from Lake Shuswap by the com- 
 pany that is working the silver-bearing galena 
 mines on the Kootenay. It turned out as 
 they said. We found the horses, and a wealth 
 of good things ; cups and saucers of crockery 
 were included, to our infinite amusement. 
 The horses were of little use except to carry 
 the packs, for better speed can be made walk- 
 ing than riding, and walking is safer and mucn 
 more pleasant — if there can be pleasure on 
 a trail along the Eagle River. We reached 
 the wagon-road, Mr. G. V. Wright, in the 
 center of a canvas town, superintending its 
 construction, and ready to do anything for us. 
 We sat luxuriously stretching our legs in the 
 spring wagon in which he sent us on the 
 
 beautiful star-shaped Lake .Shusw.Tp — last of 
 a series of lakes strung like beads on the river 
 that drains the western slope of the Eagle 
 Pass. There the Hon. Mr. Mara, having 
 heard of our a|)proa(h, had kindly kept the 
 steamer JWHcss waiting for us. The dangers 
 and the toils of our journey were over. 
 
 With regard to the s( enery in the Selkirk 
 and Cold Mountains little need be .said. Rain 
 or snow falls almost unceasingly. The clouds 
 from the Pacific shed some of their contents 
 on Vancouver Island and the Cascades; 
 then, rising high above these coast mountains, 
 they float easterly over a wide intervening 
 region, and empty their buckets most bounti- 
 fully on the (Jold range. A moss carpet sev- 
 eral inches thick covers the ground, the rocks, 
 the fallen timber, in every direction — mosses 
 extjuisitely delicate, as thickly and uniformly 
 sown as if green showers had fallen silently 
 from the heavens to replace the deep white 
 snow of winter. From the branches of the 
 trees hang mossy streamers. Softer than vel- 
 vet is the coating of every bank. Dense un- 
 derbrush and ferns from four to six or seven 
 feet high fill the narrow valleys, save where 
 the prickly devil's-club and enormous skunk 
 cabbage dispute the ground with the ferns. 
 I'lmerging from the dark-blue waters of Lake 
 Shuswap and sailing the South Thompson, 
 the air, the soft outlines of the hills, the park- 
 like scenery recalling " the upper portions of 
 the Arno and the Tiber," we come upon the 
 intervening region of elevated broken plateau 
 that extentls from the Gold range west to the 
 Cascades. Its physical character is the exact 
 opposite of the humid mountains left behind. 
 Low rounded, russet-colored hills, and benches 
 covered with bunch-grass, or, where that has 
 been too greedily cropped, with sage and 
 prickly pear, take the place of lofty, rugged 
 peaks and valleys choked with heavy timber. 
 This intervening region that extends to the 
 Cascades has everywhere a dry, dusty, Cali- 
 fornia look, except where some little creek has 
 been made to do duty in the way of irriga- 
 tion. Then we have a garden plot, a field, or 
 a ranch converted into a carpet or ribbon of 
 freshest green contrasting beautifully with the 
 surrounding gray or russet. These bits of 
 green are like oases in the desert. They yield ; 
 abundantly every variety of fruit or grain. { 
 Tomatoes, water- and musk- melons, and ; 
 grapes ripen in the open air. Wheat, as in the j 
 most favored spots of Oregon and Washington \ 
 Territory, yields from forty to seventy bushels \ 
 to the acre. At Lytton the Eraser comes 
 down from its long circuit round the far north 
 country, through gorges inclosed by snow- 
 crested mountains, to receive the tribute of 
 the united Thompson. The clear blueThomp 
 
 
THE CANADA PACIFIC RAILWAY. 
 
 889 
 
 iwap — last of 
 Is on the river 
 of the Eagle 
 Mara, having 
 ndly kept the 
 'The dangers 
 re over, 
 in the Selkirk 
 be said. Rain 
 yr. The clouds 
 their contents 
 he Cascades ; 
 )ast mountains, 
 le intervening 
 ;s most bounti- I 
 OSS carpet sev- 
 und, the rocks, 
 ction — mosses 
 and uniformly 
 I fallen silently 
 the deep white • 
 ranches of the 
 Softer than vel- 
 ik. Dense un- 
 to six or seven 
 ;ys, save where 
 normous skunk 
 with the ferns, 
 waters of Lake 
 uth Thompson, 
 ; hills, the park- ; 
 iper portions of ; 
 come upon the 
 broken plateau 
 inge west to the 
 :ter is the exact 
 ains left behind, 
 ills, and benches 
 where that has 
 with sage and ; 
 of lofty, rugged 
 h heavy timber, 
 extends to the 
 dry, dusty, Cali- 
 e little creek has 
 e way of irriga- 
 i plot', a field, or 
 pet or ribbon of 
 lutifuUy with the 
 
 These bits of 
 sert. They yield j 
 
 fruit or grain. \ 
 sk- melons, and ; 
 Wheat, as in the 
 and Washington 
 ) seventy bushels 
 ; Fraser comes 
 nd the far north 
 dosed by snow- 
 
 the tribute of 
 ear blue Thomp- 
 
 son flows into the turbid Fraser, and the 
 swollen torrent, deep, narrow, swirling, eddy- 
 ing, resistless, cuts its way through the granite 
 of the Cascades to the sea. In this mountain- 
 ous region, again, the farmer is no longer de- 
 pendent on irrigation, and wherever there is 
 soil anything can be raised. The Lower Fra- 
 ser or New Westminster district is not ov\y 
 the most valuable in Hritish Columbia, agri- 
 culturally, but the river is full of salmon and 
 sturgeon, the country abounds with game, 
 and the timber along the coast would furnish 
 masts for all the ailmirals in the world. 
 
 But what will a railway get to do in this 
 great sea of mountains ? P'or along those 
 five hun<lred miles of road on the mainland, 
 constructed at so enormous a cost, the popu- 
 lation, not counting Indians and Chinamen, is 
 less than ten thousand. The British Colum- 
 bians claim that a portion of the Asiatic trade 
 will come their way, especially as the com- 
 pany that is building the road has announ'-ed 
 its intention of putting on steamers to con- 
 nect the Pacific terminus with the ports of 
 Japan and China ; and they also point to 
 their fish, their mines of silver and gold, and 
 their forests, as the comj)lement of the prai- 
 ries of the North-west. AH their hopes and 
 dreams cluster around the railway, and 
 those whom it does not enrich will feel that 
 they have a right to be disappointed. They 
 ignore the fact that the people of the North- 
 west or any other country can afford to pay 
 only a certain price for fish or flesh, galena, 
 gold, or anything else, and that if it cannot 
 be supplied at said price it must be for them 
 all the same as if it were non-existent. They 
 fancy that the difficulty the province has to 
 contend with is not the comparatively small 
 amount of arable land, or the necessity for 
 irrigation in districts otherwise good, or the 
 intervening mountains, or the canons that 
 prevent river navigation, or the cost of trans- 
 ])ortation,or the great distances, but simply the 
 presence of some thousands of industrious 
 Chinamen. If Chinamen could only be kept out 
 white people would come in, and wages would 
 go up and keep up. Good prices would then 
 be obtained for everything, and every one 
 could live comfortably. 
 
 A most obliging merchant in Kamloops 
 informed me that it would be as well for him 
 to shut shop, because it was impossible to do 
 business any longer. A few Chinamen had 
 come to the place, and beginning as cooks, 
 waiters, barbers, washermen, had at length 
 opened some small shops, and were fast getting 
 hold of the entire trade of the country. Nobody 
 else had a chance with them, he said. I asked 
 
 Queen's University, Kingston, Canada. 
 
 why. " Oh," was the answer, given in i)er- 
 fect simplicity, " they are satisfied w ith small 
 |)rofits and (juick returns, and they make no 
 losses, for they refuse to give credit." lie had 
 not so learned business. His former custom- 
 ers, who were now buying goods at reasonable 
 rates, agreed with him that it was a shame. 
 I am sorry to seem to reflect on any of my 
 British Columbian friends, or rather to reflect 
 on their notions of commercial or political 
 economy. They were kindness itself to me, as 
 they are to all travelers. " They are a real 
 nice people," said one of the engineers we 
 fell in with; "they do cheerfully what you want, 
 either for nothing or for an enormous price." 
 That hits the mark. Their hospitality is be- 
 yond praise ; but when they charge, you are 
 likely to remember the bill. Three of us hired 
 a wagon one afternoon. The boy drove us 
 twenty-three milesinfourhours, and the charge 
 was thirty dollars. On another afternoon we 
 engaged a man to row us in his little boat to 
 a steamer on Burrard Inlet. It took him an 
 hour, and we had to ])ay four dollars for the 
 use of his boat and the pleasure of his com- 
 ])any. A friend wished to negotiate for the 
 removal of some lumber. Finding that the 
 cost of a team was fifteen dollars per day, he 
 preferred to do without the lumber. That such 
 costs and charges ])ut a stop to industrial de- 
 velopment, that they are ecjuivalent to total 
 prohibition of intercourse or exchange, does 
 not occur to the average politician. Abun- 
 dance of labor is the one thing absolutely in- 
 dispensable in British Columbia. Pretty much 
 the only labor attainable on a large scale for 
 many a year is that of Chinamen. Far from 
 welcoming the labor, almost every one's face is 
 set against it, even when necessity forces him 
 to take advantage of it for the time. But this 
 is not the place to discuss the Chinese prob- 
 lem. I have alluded to it simply because the 
 railway has forced it upon our attention, and 
 it presses for solution. 
 
 Since the Dominion was constituted the 
 political life of Canada has centered about 
 the Pacific Railway. Now that it is on the 
 eve of completion, we see how great was the 
 task that three millions of people set themselves 
 fourteen years ago to accomplish. The work 
 is imperial in meaning as well as magnitude, 
 though the cost has been wholly defrayed by 
 Canada. It is our contribution to the organ- 
 ization and defense of the empire. It has 
 added to our public burdens, but our credit is 
 better than when it was commenced. When 
 we are told that it has cost fifty, sixty, or a 
 hundred millions, what need one say but that 
 it was a necessity, and that it is worth the cost ? 
 
 G. M. Grant.