EXPEDITION UP THE GANDER RIVER 83 



sat up late in the smoking-room of the little shanty hotel, 

 listening to stories and " lumber " talk. All the men there, 

 about fifteen, were Newfoundlanders, except one, a Canadian 

 from Nova Scotia. He seemed a clever and rather bright 

 youth, and had been evidently indulging his wit at the 

 expense of what he considered the more slow men of the 

 island. At any rate they had clubbed together to sit upon 

 and snub him. An old Newfoundlander was expressing his 

 views about circular saws, when the Canadian boy interrupted 

 and contradicted him flatly. He then began to explain where 

 the Newfoundlander was wrong, when five or six of the 

 islanders attacked him and told him to " shut up or get." 

 Up at Glenwood and other logging camps Newfoundlanders 

 are fond of telling a story against themselves. It is generally 

 given in some such form as the following, a Canadian being 

 the spokesman. 



" Say, boys, I'll tell you a funny dream I had last night. 

 I dreamt I died and went to Hell, which wasn't fair anyway. 

 Old man he met me at the gate, and said he'd jes' show me 

 round. ' See, boy,' he ses, ' you'll notice we got to keep 

 some sort of order down here's well's upstairs. Nations 

 got to be separated jes' same, or else they be a fightin' all 

 the time, an' I wouldn't hev no time to do my roastin'. 

 Those black fellows over there's Spaniards, Them in that 

 corner's Frenchies. That big crowd down yonder's trust 

 magnates an' African millionaires ; those two fine fellows 

 standin' there alone, 'cos they got here by mistake, those 

 are Canadians.' Yet all those unfortunate people were a 

 roastin' an' a sizzlin', and hevin' fearful times. Bimeby we 

 comes to a lot of wretched-lookin' men fastened up to the 

 roof with chains, and underneath them was a small fire of 

 sticks with the smoke a comin' up. 



