CHAPTER XI
EXPERIENCES OF IMMIGRANTS
Readers of this book will, I hope, include many persons who think of emigrating to Canada; and fain would I answer the question uppermost in their minds. “What experiences await us there?” they will be anxious to learn.
I have interviewed many settlers in the various provinces, and their testimony admits of being focused into three statements of well-nigh universal application—of application, indeed, to all save persons who are exceptionally lucky or exceptionally stupid. These three statements are: (1) Life in Canada involves work, and hard work. (2) The first year, and perhaps the first two years, will be a time of stress and of struggling with difficulties. (3) Then there comes the “turning of the corner,” with assured prosperity to follow as the result of continued effort. Nothing, indeed, is more sure than that, in Canada, work commands an ample reward.
But my three generalities, after all, leave all the details unstated; and I cannot fill in those details more convincingly than by reproducing the actual personal experiences, as chronicled almost from day to day, of a typical English family who settled in Canada. But the story of what befell Mr. and Mrs. Rendall must be preceded by a word of explanation. They were members of the large party who, in the spring of 1903, emigrated under the auspices of the Rev. I. M. Barr—a party whose affairs were destined to attract some attention from the English Press by reason of special difficulties involved in an isolated location. Nowadays plenty of free land can be found within twenty miles of a railway; but the Barr colonists were destined to begin their new lives in a situation far more remote from means of quick transportation. Thus, if Mr. and Mrs. Rendall were typical English immigrants, their early experiences give an exaggerated impression of what the average settler has to expect.
“With my family,” Mr. Rendall wrote, “I left England on April 8th, 1903, on the _Lake Simcoe_, as I was unable to settle up my affairs in time to join the Barr party on the _Manitoba_. I may say that I had been a farmer in the Old Country all my life. The place I rented in Devonshire had been farmed by my forefathers for over two hundred years. I was paying rent at the rate of over £2 an acre, in addition to rates, tithe, taxes, and wages. A crisis came. The landlord would not reduce the rent or do any repairs to the dwelling-house or out-buildings, all of which were falling into ruin; so I determined to throw up the life of slaving for others and strike for independence in Canada.
“Having obtained from head-quarters all necessary information respecting free-grant lands in the North-West, I applied for a homestead for myself, and another for one of my men, Barnes, who had determined to throw in his lot with mine. Then, with my wife and two children (aged two and four), I left the Old Country, with many a heartache at parting, yet with a strong determination to face all difficulties, and to succeed in the end.
“We left Liverpool on April 8th, and arrived at St. John’s on April 13th,” records the husband succinctly. In the lady’s diary the voyage received more attention. “A gentleman slipped over the stairs leading to the cabin,” she notes, “and broke his leg. There was a birth on board; and a foreigner in the steerage cut his throat, and is not expected to live. In addition to all this, they have discovered no less than twenty stowaways.”
This Devonshire family lost no time in proceeding by rail to Saskatoon, where they found the other Barr colonists in a large temporary encampment. “I made my own independent arrangements,” Mr. Rendall wrote, “and took a room for my wife and children. We reached Saskatoon on April 15th, and stayed there till April 29th. My first business was to purchase a wagon and pair of horses with harness. This meant spending $508, a stiff outlay, but a necessary one. I also bought a camp stove, a plough, harrows, and a good supply of nails and tools. Having packed up our traps, we set off to drive to Battleford. We had duly provisioned ourselves for the journey, which was fortunate, as, contrary to what we had been told, it proved impossible to get anything on the road—a condition of affairs that caused much misery and privation to many of the poor colonists.
“My experience of horse-driving in the Old Country stood me in good stead, and in spite of all difficulties, including inclement weather and rough country, we reached Battleford safe and sound, without one mishap, in four and a half days. This was considered very good, and I had a heavy load.
“We remained at Battleford from May 2nd to May 4th, when we resumed our progress to the promised land. This part of the journey was the most trying, with the road terribly rough and the weather bitter. Had it not been for the Government tents, which were set up at appointed stopping-places along the route, many must have died from cold and hunger. My wife and little girl felt the effects of exposure, and by the time we reached the settlement both were thoroughly ill. In fact, we were all worn out from our long journey and the want of rest.
“My first inquiry was for a doctor, who quickly came to our assistance, and of whose kindness I cannot speak too highly. With care, my wife and little one soon recovered. Then my man went down with threatened pneumonia, though the prompt attentions of Dr. Amos saved him from a serious illness.”
Here it will be interesting to recapitulate, from the lady’s point of view, the experiences just briefly narrated.
Under date Friday, April 24th, I read in her diary: “We have now been in Saskatoon since Wednesday evening, and are busy getting all in readiness to trek up to the settlement. We have overtaken Mr. Barr and his party. They are in a huge camp, but the children and I and my husband are in a room. Yesterday I was greatly pleased to see my husband and our fellow-traveller and friend, Mr. Young, come in with smiling faces to say they had secured a splendid pair of horses and a wagon. These are ours, as Mr. Young is not purchasing yet. The children and I went in the afternoon to see our new possessions. The horses are really beautiful animals, strong, powerful, good-looking, in fine condition, and well educated. There is a large covered hood to the wagon, so it will serve as a house for a while. The next bit of good news is that we have had our land allotted to us. . . .
“Sunday, May 2nd. Four and a half days’ trekking through most perilous country! Some of the dykes we had to pass over were simply awful. Very few got through the journey without serious loss of baggage and horses. I have a fair amount of courage, but it has been taxed to the uttermost during the past few days. The children have been most plucky. The natives here think my husband and Barnes have done splendidly to bring us through so well and free of all mishaps. It has been bitterly cold camping out some nights—two degrees below freezing. Still, we are alive, and contemplate continuing our journey to the settlement to-morrow—another seventy miles. We have our camp stove, and we start and end our day with a good foundation of porridge, which we find a splendid thing to keep us warm and satisfied. This morning I rushed first thing to the post office, but experienced a bitter disappointment. Not one letter for us! Others with smiling faces were eagerly devouring their home news. I must say I came away feeling very sad and lonely. It is just a month since we left home.
“On the journey my husband fired his first shot on Canadian soil. He killed a fine duck, and afterwards, three prairie chickens. We are greatly looking forward to a nice savoury dinner to-day—the first hot meal for a long time. We cannot feel too thankful that we are all safe so far. To others there have been many mishaps, and no wonder—the bogs, ravines, and gullies we passed were really fearful. Our good horses have done splendidly. We are quite enjoying the rest to-day. The vastness of this country is wonderful. Although we have passed through so much already, our courage is still undaunted. . . .
“On leaving Battleford we had a ninety-mile journey through most awful country. It shook us all to pieces, what with driving through thick scrub and charging across great streams and ravines. Simply perished with cold and hunger, we reached the Government tents at our journey’s end. We all felt weary, worn, and sad. My little Doris was taken ill the day before we arrived, and my husband’s first care, on reaching Mr. Barr’s camp, was to seek out the doctor. She had a temperature of 104; but, thanks to poultices and medical care, she soon pulled round. Then Barnes was taken ill; and I suppose all this worry and anxiety proved the last straw as far as I was concerned, for I was the next to collapse, with a bad chill and bronchitis, together with an abscess on my face, all of which combined to make me feel very low and out of sorts.”
So much for the first ordeal, to which this family and their fellow-colonists need not have been subjected in 1903. That long trek, accomplished by makeshift means of their own providing, put them on a sort of post-dated equality with settlers who arrived in pre-railway days. Indeed, save that the country was now free from Indian savages and belligerent fur-traders, Mr. and Mrs. Rendall and their two little children might have been living a hundred years ago, and traversing the North-West in one of Lord Selkirk’s parties of pioneers.
But the journey was, after all, of minor moment. Dumped down in the wilderness, isolated from civilisation, with no road or river service to connect them with the populated world, those English families had now somehow to strike root as a self-supporting community. Two hundred miles from a railway! Truly it was a formidable handicap.
But I will resume the personal story: “We arrived at our destination,” the husband recorded, “on May 10th, and remained in camp until May 15th. Prairie fires raged around on all sides, giving rise to serious anxiety. At one time, for the safety of the whole camp, it was necessary to summon out all the men, horses, and ploughs that were available.”
“When we reached Mr. Barr’s camp,” the lady stated, “my husband went to survey the section of land allotted to him; but he was not at all satisfied, and would have nothing to do with it. So Mr. Barr went with him to look at a different section, which resulted most happily for my husband. He is perfectly satisfied with his new location, and considers he is the proud possessor of as fine a tract of land as is possible to be procured. As I now sit writing, I can look out at my tent door and see him quite happy doing his first bit of ploughing on his own soil. There is no doubt it is most beautiful land. We have plenty of wood and water, which is a great boon and much to be thankful for. Our friend and travelling companion, Mr. Young, has the adjoining land, which is just as good as ours. We are only half an hour’s drive from the stores in Mr. Barr’s camp, half a mile from the prospective railway station, and only a few minutes’ walk from the school site.”
From Mr. Rendall’s account of the initial efforts we learn one or two additional facts: “On May 15th,” he wrote, “we pitched our tents at last on our own domain, with a feeling of thankfulness that journeying was over and the goal reached at last. I started the very next day to plough, and in less than a week had ploughed and tilled three acres of oats, and, by the following week, an acre and a half of barley and half an acre of potatoes. At the time of writing (July 22nd) everything is looking splendid considering late sowing. I am much pleased with my land, which is good soil and easy to plough.” He criticised the conditions under which the colonists were existing, and added: “I cannot speak too highly in praise of the valuable and kindly assistance of the Government officials, who have spared no trouble in smoothing away our difficulties so far as they are able.”
Going back to May, we read in the lady’s diary: “I think the country all round here will be very pretty in a short while. We are now hunting out a nice spot for our little house, which we are anxious to get up as soon as possible. There is a gentleman in Mr. Barr’s camp who thinks of returning home. He has the plan of a four-room bungalow, and the timber all complete for building it. If he does go back, he will sell it outright to my husband; but the timber will have to be fetched from Fort Pitt, twenty-five miles away. Barnes goes to Battleford on Wednesday to fetch the rest of our luggage, ploughs and harrows, and the cooking-stove. There are plenty of prairie chickens and wild duck all over the estate, and my husband’s gun keeps us supplied. Yesterday and to-day we have thoroughly enjoyed a delicious dinner of prairie chicken, beans, and potatoes. The beans are like little white peas, and are very good. We are getting some vegetable seed from Battleford to start our kitchen garden as soon as possible. I shall be so thankful when the warmer weather sets in. I can quite understand the attraction of camping then, but under present circumstances it has very few charms; and, what with the bitter cold and the hard ground, we do not get much refreshing rest. Still, despite all the hardships, it is certainly a glorious feeling to be able to look around on our very own property and feel that each day’s work is for future benefit. No landlord, and no rent to pay! And no taxes! That does indeed compensate for a great deal.”
On June 4th Mrs. Rendall had very sad tidings to record: “Our poor friend and neighbour, Mr. Young, took a chill a fortnight ago. He seemed so unwell when my husband went up to see him in his own tent that I suggested he should be driven down to us, and put in Barnes’s vacant tent, where we could look after him. This was done, and we sent for the camp doctor, who said it was a serious case. On Friday and Saturday Mr. Young became worse and was very delirious. There happened to be an experienced male nurse in camp, and he came out to remain at night. On Saturday I was alone with the poor fellow while my husband was driving the doctor back to camp. He told me he knew he was going to die, and he asked me to note down his wishes and write and cable to his wife. He wished my husband to take charge of everything he had till such time as we should receive instructions from his family.
“He passed away at 3.30 a.m. on Saturday, May 24th, after only four days’ illness. It was an awful blow to us. We had been such good friends, and he and my husband were so much together. He was buried the same evening, at seven, on his own ground, the doctor and Mr. Lloyd making all arrangements. We cabled the poor wife in Manchester, and I wrote her a long letter giving all details, and we are now awaiting instructions from her. They were coming out this month. There are two sons—eighteen and twenty—and two daughters—sixteen and thirteen. We have the satisfaction of knowing we did everything we could to save him. It all seems like a dream.”
On a later date the lady wrote: “We are having glorious weather, and as one looks around on the lovely green grass, and the bushes in bright foliage, it is difficult to realise that the ground was so recently covered with snow. My husband’s oats are already well up and are looking splendid. About a week ago we managed to buy a cow and a calf, and I feel quite proud that we not only have plenty of milk for ourselves, but are able to supply a neighbour with a quart a day. Yesterday we all thoroughly enjoyed a lovely cup of cream for tea.
“Next Monday Barnes goes off to Onion Lake, Fort Pitt, to fetch the lumber for our bungalow. We have chosen the site. . . . As to the colony, Mr. Barr is pretty well out of it now, and in his place we have the Rev. Mr. Lloyd, a splendid man.”
On August 6th the lady with deep thankfulness recorded that their bungalow, christened “Doris Court,” was near completion.
“To-night,” she wrote, “we contemplate sleeping, for the first time for four months, within the shelter of four walls. July is the wet month here, and it is easy to imagine the delights of being aroused from your sleep by the rain trickling on you as you lie in your tent. . . .
“Since I wrote the above we have removed into our very own domicile, and right proud we feel to look around, even though at present the boards are bare. From one window I can see our lovely oats and barley looking splendid. From another window I see the master of Doris Court ploughing away for dear life with his fine pair of horses. Each acre ploughed means a better prospect for the coming year.
“Doris Court measures 30 feet by 30, and contains five rooms, besides an attic which runs the full length of the house and can be used as a bedroom, as we have had it nicely floored and boarded. There are also two very large cellars in which we can store all necessary provisions for the winter. Everyone who sees our house is of the same opinion, viz., that it is quite the best home in the colony. There will be a veranda four or five feet wide round three sides of the house, and that will be lovely in the summer. We are going to have a fine garden, not being stinted for ground, and we hope in the spring to get some fruit and other trees from the experimental farm. There is a great charm and fascination in planning it all out, knowing it is our own property. That fact compensates us for all the hardships we have passed through.
“We have gone to more expense over our house than we intended in the first instance; but so many persons will want putting up for the winter that we feel it will repay us to have extra room. Already we have had a lot of applications, which we have under consideration. Our bungalow will be warmed throughout by means of pipes from the kitchen stove, and from a heating stove which is placed in the octagonal hall. We burn nothing but wood. The fires have to be kept going night and day during the winter, and we have to put up double windows, viz., outside frames, which can be removed in the summer. The wild flowers are very lovely, and the small single sunflower is just now in abundance all over our land. There are also gaillardias, besides a kind of lily of the valley and a red tiger lily.”
The colony had a terrible experience which the lady thus vividly described: “October 21st. Yesterday was a day never to be forgotten. For nearly a week we have been watching several huge prairie fires raging in the distance, for we have feared that a change of wind might bring a heavy disaster upon us. The night before last was an anxious one, with the terrible circle of fire gradually closing around us. The general opinion was that we were safe for the night, but I could not sleep. Next morning our worst fears were realised, and we knew that a few hours would decide our fate. The only safeguard against prairie fires is a broad belt of ploughing all round your homestead. This my husband had done, with the exception of one side, which, alas! was the very side towards which the fire was sweeping with awful rapidity. Needless to say, the plough was soon at work, and it was literally ploughing for dear life. Every available tub was filled with water. Sacks were collected to be in readiness for beating out the flames when the time should come.
“Mr. Rendall, Barnes, and another man who is working for us were all on the alert, watching with intense eagerness all the different points. Meanwhile within the house I, together with Mrs. H., who is boarding with us for the winter, and Mrs. B., who nursed me when my little girl was born, stood gazing out of the window. Each of us had a baby in our arms, and each also had two other children to look after. So in all we mustered nine little ones, each under six years of age. Our young flock fortunately were not able to realise the deadly peril we were in, and we had to keep on rounding them up in readiness for hasty flight.
“I collected a few little valuables, and looked around with a very heavy heart, wondering what would become of us if in an hour or two we should be homeless. At last we could stand still no longer; so we three women rushed out, and, filling our aprons with the clay and soil dug up from the foundations, we scattered it all over the ground around the house. The wind was blowing a hurricane, bringing, or rather driving, the fire straight on to us. The awful roar of the flames was enough to make the bravest shudder, and the smoke and smell were suffocating. My husband continued ploughing until absolutely compelled to stop owing to the heat and smoke. Our two men meanwhile drenched the roof with water; then, arming themselves with wet sacks, they hurried to the weakest points to try and prevent the flames jumping the fire-guard, which was only 150 yards off the house all round. We could do nothing more. We could only wait with bated breath.
“At last came the joyful cry ‘Safe!’ from the western side. But the danger was not yet over, for on the north-west we were again threatened, and it was there the horses had been placed for safety. All hands had to fly round to meet the enemy at the fresh point of attack, and after a hard fight the dreaded foe, thanks to cool heads and strong arms, was kept at bay. At the end of a short time of awful suspense and anxiety, my husband came back to us with the welcome assurance, ‘All danger over! Safe for another year!’ We were too overjoyed for words, and after the dreadful strain of so many hours you may pretty well guess what the reaction was like. Mr. Rendall was literally fagged out, but when we had had a little rest and refreshment we all felt better.
“Our loss was only four tons of hay, but many of our neighbours lost all their hayricks. The fire started by the Vermilion River, and was raging for days before it reached us and swept on towards Battleford. There is no doubt whatever that our fire-guard in a great measure saved the town site.
“Apart from the horror of it, that fire was a most wonderful sight. Of course, on the prairie you can see for an enormous distance, and for thirty or forty miles there was nothing but flames. How thankful we were the fire reached us in the morning and not at night!”
When next the diarist took up her pen, it was to record interesting domestic details: “We muster fifteen at present—quite a big family to cater and cook for. My little ones are quite happy, the Canadian baby being especially bonny, and thriving splendidly. The town site is all surveyed, and the Government has decided to grant a plot to every colonist who cares to apply for it. Mr. Rendall, Barnes, and I have each got one, and we intend erecting a little store of our own for the disposal of our dairy produce. We are hoping to get two or three more cows soon. Everyone likes our butter, made in the old Devonshire fashion. I have been for a drive to-day, and the town is growing very, very fast, dozens of little shacks springing up all round. There are two large general stores, two restaurants, the post office, a butcher’s shop, and a blacksmith’s, all within twenty minutes’ walk of Doris Court.”
On December 10th Mrs. Rendall wrote: “Everything is going ahead now with amazing rapidity. We have been fortunate in having most glorious weather—continuous sunshine from day to day and hard frost at night. Our clergyman, Mr. Lloyd, is a very musical man, and every Wednesday holds a choir practice at his own house. The first hour is devoted to music for the following Sunday service, after which we have secular quartets, trios, duets, and solos—all the best music he can muster. He has now formed a musical union. I need scarcely say I have joined, and I thoroughly enjoy the practices, they are so splendidly conducted. We really have a very fine choir. Every Thursday evening there is either a concert or a debate on some popular and instructive topic. It has been decided to erect a structure which for the time being will serve as a church, a school, and a recreation-room. Everyone is giving a log (it is, of course, to be built of logs), and the name of each donor is to be engraved thereon by his or her own hand. All the labour of erecting the building is to be done voluntarily, different persons having promised one or two days’, or in some cases a week’s, work.
“Progress is indeed remarkable. With regard to our choral union, the idea is for all the places round about, such as Battleford and Onion Lake, to form branches and practise the same music, so that from time to time we can have a meeting of the massed choir. Our choir has already been invited to Onion Lake, which is thirty-six miles away. The whole party is to go in sleighs, of which the colony now has a supply. We use them with our wagon-boxes. It is a delightful sensation to be gliding over the snow, which is not soft as in England, but hard and crisp.
“Everyone is in great excitement just now, because we have to elect an overseer (the same as our English mayor), and canvassing is going on pretty smartly. So, with one thing and another, we are quite busy. The little ones are all well, happy, and growing very rapidly. My wee Canadian is the happiest baby I have ever seen. Mr. Rendall has just bought a piece of land, consisting of 320 acres, adjoining our homestead. When the railway comes, that land will be very valuable. We have bought a one-year-old calf for $11, with a ton of hay thrown in.”
After giving an account of enjoyable social gatherings and frolics at Christmas and New Year’s Eve, our chronicler added: “We are most amused at the reports that reach us from England as to the terrible plight we are in, even to the verge of starvation! As a matter of fact we are quite happy and contented, and very much better off in every way than we were in England. As for food, we certainly live as well as ever we did. There are now two butchers in the town. Our meat is delivered at the door, and is of the very best quality. Certainly we have had difficulties to surmount and hardships to endure, but we quite expected them when we left England; and at that time we treasured up a reserve fund of determination and pluck which stood us in good stead when the need came. I would never advise anyone to come out here who is the least afraid of work—they are better off at home. There is plenty of room to breathe in this country, and if the work is hard, the freedom—which is the inevitable attribute of the life here—makes one far less susceptible to physical fatigue than one was in the old country, where there is a feeling of weighty oppression to handicap one’s energies. Here one feels that each week’s work is a step onwards, while ten years’ hard toil in Devonshire brought nothing but disappointment and additional anxiety.
“There is no doubt whatever that Lloydminster bids fair to become a very important centre. Its growth week by week is marvellous. The Government are now erecting a large immigration hall in anticipation of the arrival of new-comers in the spring. Meetings are being held now to discuss and perfect arrangements for receiving expected friends and families and ensure their safe conduct right up to the colony.
“So far we have passed through the winter splendidly, and up to the time of writing (January 19th) we have brilliant sunshine from one week’s end to another. Our bungalow is kept beautifully warm. We have a good supply of wood from our own land, and so the price of coal is an item over which we have no need to worry. We have to pay very dearly for flour—$4½ for 100 lb. It is of course freightage that makes things dear. It is expected that the railway will be here and working in a year from now, and then everything will be cheaper. The telegraph will be in working order in a few weeks’ time. We have two large general stores, a drug store, and a resident doctor, with a hospital in view. Our choral union now numbers 120 members, and a rifle corps is being formed with 160 names enrolled. At the time of writing there are twenty-eight degrees of frost, and those who have been outside say it is a bit nippy. If we do not take proper precautions to protect our noses and ears, we are liable to get them frost-bitten.
“The land here is of splendid quality and fit to grow anything, being specially adapted for mixed farming. And when I remember all these things, I cannot help smiling to think of those in the old country who have been commiserating our lot. They have far greater need for pity than we, for while they are still plodding and hibernating, we are on the progressive, and are probably making greater headway in twelve months than they in as many years. For Canada is nothing if not a go-ahead country.”
From this point, probably because of superior claims upon her attention, Mrs. Rendall allowed a long break to occur in her instructive record of a settler’s experiences. When, several months later, she resumed the narrative, it was to say: “Much has happened since I last wrote, and I hardly know where to begin. Lloydminster is quite a little town. The railway is here, and the station is a pretty addition to our buildings. Little did I think that the whistle of an engine would ever sound so sweet! The passenger service is not properly organised yet, and the line is still in the hands of the construction party. But as soon as the line is entirely completed, and it is handed over to the Canadian Northern Railway Company, we shall have a regular service.
“For the past two years we have lived in comparative isolation, sometimes being left for three weeks together without the slightest notion of what was going on in the outside world. We were completely at the mercy of the weather for news and provisions, all having to come by road from Saskatoon; and when they did come, the price of the commonest necessaries was enough to make the pluckiest feel occasionally downhearted. ‘It will be different when we have the railway,’ became a stock phrase. But it was weary waiting, and many of us had almost lost hope, when one day we heard that the rails had been laid within two miles of Lloydminster. Less than a week later, the first train arrived. Since then there has been quite a revolution in the price of everything. Flour, for which we had paid $4½ to $5 per 100 lb., is now $2.80, top price; and the cost of all other provisions is decreasing in proportion. Lumber, too, is coming down in price.
“Town lots have been on the market and bought at high values. Everyone is now to build lumber houses instead of log shacks. Bricks, too, are being extensively used for buildings. What a transformation! When we arrived in May, 1903, about a dozen tents were all there was to see on the bare prairie. Now three large hotels are in course of erection, there are stores of all kinds, and even a branch of the Canadian Bank of Commerce is going up. There is also a printing office, from which is issued weekly our newsy little paper, _The Lloydminster Times_.
“This year we have had fifty acres under cultivation. Our grain is not threshed so far, as the threshing outfit has not been our way yet. The general yield of oats is about 50 bushels to 60 bushels per acre—of wheat, 25 bushels. We have two acres of potatoes—a splendid crop, though early frost spoilt half before they could be got out of the ground. From 4 lb. of seed from the experimental farm, Mr. Rendall had a yield of 136 lb., many of the potatoes weighing over 20 oz. Our garden produce was splendid. We picked several hundredweight of peas, and disposed of them in the town, one restaurant taking nearly all we could supply. We have put on a large addition to our house in the shape of a substantial log building, 14 feet by 18 feet, which will serve as a granary in winter and an extra kitchen in the summer. Mr. Rendall is now completing a fine log stable, 30 feet by 15 feet. We have some very good cows, and our milk is now disposed of right away and fetched from the door, so that we have no bother.”
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Last autumn I visited Mr. and Mrs. Rendall and their fifteen hundred neighbours—a healthy, happy, and prosperous community. The town of Lloydminster, with its large and handsome banks, hotels, churches, schools, and hospital, was a visible part of the abundant wealth which the Barr colonists, by growing grain on 27,000 acres of hitherto useless prairie, had brought into being—and all in less than eight years!