Homesteading 



A few weeks rapidly slipped away, and on 

 a bright, cold, breezy morning in the middle of 

 March, Tom and I stood on the great landing- 

 stage at Liverpool, our passage tickets safely 

 in our respective pockets, and modest drafts 



on the bank at B , together with a few 



spare dollars in Canadian money, snugly stowed 

 away next our respective persons (a not unwise 

 precaution). We also carried vouchers for the 

 railway ticket on the other side. 



Very wisely our people had said " farewell " 

 at home, for in most cases seeing one's friends 

 off, with its waiting about to see the ship sail 

 and the trying return journey, is an unpleasant 

 business. 



For the traveller the case is different, for, 

 whether old or young, man or woman, there is 

 usually in most a touch of that spirit which, as 

 Kingsley said of the east wind, " drives our Eng- 

 lish hearts of oak seaward round the world," 

 and as a Canadian poet has said, " Though we 

 may look askance at the lone trail, the lone trail 

 lures us on." And let us rid our minds of any 

 idea we may entertain that such thoughts apply 

 to us of British lineage only. As we walk up 

 and down the long stage we may note Germans, 

 Russians, many voyagers from the Baltic pro- 

 vinces of continental Europe, the women and 



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