Hunting in Canada 119 



know them and will not take the trouble to make their 

 acquaintance. Nevertheless, every American who does 

 know the Canadians at all well, will agree with the writer in 

 saying that as a nation, the Canadian people have no superior. 

 The time will come and is coming fast when Americans will 

 wake up to the fact that they are living beside a nation and a 

 competitor of no second-rate importance. I would Hke my 

 readers to have a glimpse of a Canadian sportsman as he is 

 at home. 



As a fair example, let me introduce you to my friend, 

 formerly Vice-Commodore of the Royal Canadian Yacht 

 Club of Toronto. Here he comes now on the way to his yacht 

 the Fou Fou. 



A misguided j^outh at the club the night before made the re- 

 mark that the Fou Fou was a racing machine and could not be 

 beaten, when the Commodore turned on him with some warmth 

 saying, "I will sail your boat and you can sail the Fou Fou, 

 and I'll beat you or lose ten dollars." That's the Commodore. 

 The Fou Fou is of the skimming dish order, twenty-five 

 feet over all and sixteen feet water line, that had, with the 

 Commodore at the helm, been winning hands down. This ac- 

 counts for his errand to the bay so early in the day. 



"I'm a truant from business this morning. Come along," 

 he cries, "you are just in time. I have been trying to pick up 

 a crew all the way down." 



It was a race from start to finish and the Fou Fou was 

 beaten by the length of her stumpy bowsprit. 



The race over, we slipped into our riding breeches for a 

 ride to the Toronto Hunt Club and to visit the kennels. We 

 took an indirect route for the Hunt Club to give our horses a 

 chance "to show their irons" in clearing a few fences and 

 ditches on the way, also for the purpose of crossing a wide, 

 open field where they could lay themselves out in a racing 

 gallop on the beautiful turf. 



