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[Illustration: ACROSS THE PRAIRIE

F.H.E. HASELL]

ACROSS THE PRAIRIE IN A MOTOR CARAVAN

[Illustration: THE CANADIAN DOMINION IN DIOCESES

_By permission of S.P.G._    _Frontispiece_]

  ACROSS THE PRAIRIE
  IN A MOTOR CARAVAN

  A 3,000 MILE TOUR BY TWO ENGLISHWOMEN
  ON BEHALF OF RELIGIOUS EDUCATION

  BY
  F. H. EVA HASELL
  IN COLLABORATION WITH J. F. S.

  WITH 18 ILLUSTRATIONS AND A MAP

  LONDON
  SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE

  NEW YORK AND TORONTO: THE MACMILLAN CO.
  1922

  TO

  AYLMER BOSANQUET

  WHOSE SELF-SACRIFICE, DEEP SPIRITUALITY,
  AND FAR-SEEING VISION INSPIRED THIS VENTURE,
  THIS BOOK IS LOVINGLY DEDICATED

  PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN

  LETTER FROM
  HIS GRACE THE ARCHBISHOP
  OF CANTERBURY.

  Lambeth Palace,
  London, S.E.

Dear Miss Hasell,

I happen to have read the proof sheets of the little book which is to
record the story of your work and Miss Ticehurst's in the prairie tracts
of Canada, and I should like to tell you how glad I am that the account
of these eventful journeyings should be accessible to the public. People
realise too little what are the opportunities and responsibilities of
pioneer days in those incomparable regions. The perseverance, the
indomitable energy, and the buoyant hope which your pages record and
inspire will have a place in the annals of that vast seed plot and
cradle of a great nation that is to be.

  I am,

    Yours very truly,

      RANDALL CANTUAR.

  _October 5th, 1922._

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER                                              PAGE

      I. THE CALL OF THE PRAIRIE                          1

     II. PREPARATIONS AND DEPARTURE                       7

    III. RELIGIOUS EDUCATION IN THE U.S.A. AND CANADA    10

     IV. LIFE IN A LITTLE PRAIRIE TOWN                   17

      V. IN REGINA                                       22

     VI. THE MOTOR CARAVAN                               28

    VII. THE PRAIRIE TRAILS                              33

   VIII. FROM WINNIPEG TO REGINA                         36

     IX. SANDSTORMS AND SUNDAY SCHOOLS                   42

      X. ADVENTURES AND MISADVENTURES                    51

     XI. SOME ASPECTS OF PRAIRIE LIFE                    55

    XII. MISSIONS AND MUD HOLES                          62

   XIII. FURTHER PRAIRIE SKETCHES                        71

    XIV. A CAMPING TRIP IN THE ROCKIES                   78

     XV. ON THE RETURN JOURNEY                           81

    XVI. AMONG THE PRAIRIE FARMS                         86

   XVII. BACK TO REGINA                                  93

  XVIII. AN INDIAN RESERVE                               98

    XIX. HEADED FOR HOME                                100

     XX. SOME PRESENT-DAY NEEDS OF THE PRAIRIE          104

  APPENDIX                                              112

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

  MAP OF THE CANADIAN DOMINION IN DIOCESES    _Frontispiece_

  THE CARAVAN AND HER CREW }
                           }
  THE INTERIOR OF THE VAN  }               _Facing page_  28
                           }
  TIDYING UP               }
                           }
  A SHACK ON THE MOVE      }

  DIGGING OUT THE WHEEL                    }
                                           }
  THE TENT, AND MY ASSISTANTS AT LOREBURN  }
                                           }
  HOUSEHOLD TASKS                          }    "   "      48
                                           }
  MR. M. AND HIS MOTOR-CYCLE ON THE RAIL   }
    WAY TRACK                              }

  A PRAIRIE SCHOOL                      }
                                        }
  A MAPLE-LEAF TEACHER AND HER PUPILS   }
                                        }
  PRAIRIE SCHOLARS                      }       "   "      71
                                        }
  A YOUNG HERDSMAN                      }
                                        }
  THE AVENUE AT BANFF, ALBERTA          }

  LAKE LOUISE                       }
                                    }
  LUMBER ON THE BOW RIVER           }
                                    }
  SLINGING HAY INTO THE BARN        }           "   "      80
                                    }
  THE CHURCH ON THE INDIAN RESERVE  }

  ACROSS THE PRAIRIE IN A MOTOR CARAVAN

  CHAPTER I

  THE CALL OF THE PRAIRIE

The diocese of Qu'Appelle, in the province of Saskatchewan, Western
Canada, is so named from the Indian story which tells of the maiden who
lay dying, calling piteously for her lover. He, far off in his canoe on
the Saskatchewan River, suddenly heard a voice, and answered:
"Qu'Appelle." The voice came again, and then he knew it for that of his
beloved, and made all speed to her side. But, alas! when he reached her
she was dead.

_Qu'Appelle_ is a suggestive title and indicative of the call which so
many have heard from the prairie provinces, a twofold call, urging some
to earthly and some to spiritual husbandry. Some account of the Western
Canada of to-day may be useful here.

The exigencies of life on the prairie tend to make men think rather of
building greater barns than of that day when their souls shall be
required of them. When a man with little capital takes up a prairie
"section" he is gambling with fortune, the welfare of his nearest and
dearest being at stake. At the same time it is a worthy venture, a
response to the age-old command to till the earth and subdue it; and it
is often the only way whereby a man may become his own master, a
landowner, and one who, in developing the treasures of the earth, adds
materially to the well-being of his fellows. For the wheat from the
prairies of Western Canada is the hardest and finest in the world.

The prospective settler buys a section (640 acres), a half or a quarter
section, as the case may be, and, helped by a loan from the Government
for the purchase of implements, ploughs and sows the virgin soil,
building a shack for himself and his family. The first three years are
touch and go. Drought in early summer or torrential storms in harvest
will effectually ruin the crops, but when once a good crop is raised the
profit is very satisfactory. The perils of drought and storm, however,
always remain, though with increasing capital the risk is lessened. The
life is one long wrestling-bout--man's brain and muscle pitted against
the forces of nature; but when he is victorious the reward is great.

It is a virile country peopled with virile men (for only the strong can
"make good" out there). But these men have already realised that man
cannot live by bread alone. Close to nature, man feels the presence of
God. The wide sweep of the prairie, enamelled with a thousand flowers or
gilded with the ripened corn; the vast dome of the sky; the glorious
sunsets and awful storms--all make men conscious of the power and might
and majesty of the Supreme Being. So that beneath the feverish search
for wealth there is a deep, if unrealised, thirst for the things of God.

But many of these sheep have been for years without a shepherd, and such
knowledge of religion as they once possessed has been choked by the
cares of this world; and their children--the men and women of the future
on whom so much depends--are growing up in many places without any
religious teaching at all. One result of this state of things is that
there is no Christian public opinion on which to start this new country.
It is even said that it is not unusual to hear men boast: "We cheat
others before they cheat us."

Another terrible result is that, unrestrained by spiritual forces, the
animal instincts have gained the upper hand and immorality is rife. In
the _Bulletin of Social Service in Saskatchewan_ for June 1, 1920,
under the heading: "Some Measures Urgently Needed," No. 10 runs: "Higher
standards in our laws regarding sex offences. Ours are the lowest in the
Empire, due to the Senate's repeated rejection of amending measures."

A disintegrating factor in the religious and moral life of Western
Canada is no doubt to be found in the mixture of races and the resultant
intermarriages. Almost every race and sect is represented. There are
about eighty different religions, including many eccentric and obscure
sects such as "Daniel's Band," "Doukhobors," and "Holy Rollers."
According to the census of 1916 the Christian churches in Saskatchewan
are numerically strong in the following order: Presbyterian, Roman
Catholic, Methodist, Anglican, Lutheran, Greek Church, Baptist. The
proportion of Anglicans has probably increased since then.

In 1910 the Archbishop of Rupertsland appealed to the Archbishops of
Canterbury and York to send out clergy to attend to the needs of the
numerous British settlers who were pouring into the country. (Between
1900 and 1920 one million two hundred and fifty thousand persons have
emigrated from Great Britain to Canada.) The Archbishops' Western Canada
Fund was the answer to this appeal. The cause interested me extremely,
and I became one of the collectors for the diocese of Carlisle. This
diocese raised £3,000 and built St. Cuthbert's Hostel in Regina, and
later raised another £1,000 towards the £50,000 needed for the endowment
of the Western Canada missions.

Three missions were started by the Fund in Edmonton, Southern Alberta,
and Saskatchewan respectively, but we are only concerned with the
latter. In this province many small towns had sprung up owing to the
great influx of immigrants (mostly British) and to the rapid railway
construction, while the surrounding prairie was dotted with isolated
farms and hamlets. It was with the special needs of these people that
the Regina Railway Mission had to deal. Accordingly, several clergy and
laymen went out from England, made the hostel at Regina their
headquarters, and visited the surrounding country. They lived in
one-roomed shacks, doing their own "chores," and often driving about
eighty miles on a Sunday in order to take four services a day. They
returned to the hostel once a quarter for spiritual refreshment, rest,
and discussion of their work with the head of the Mission and with each
other.

Meanwhile, a pioneer movement was on foot in the Old Country. At St.
Christopher's College, Blackheath, a specialised training in the matter
and method of religious education had been inaugurated for women
prepared to undertake this branch of social service. I was asked to
become Diocesan Sunday School Organiser for the diocese of Carlisle, and
went to train at St. Christopher's in 1914. There I met Miss Aylmer
Bosanquet and Miss Nona Clarke, and was naturally very interested to
find that these new acquaintances were anxious to go out to Regina and
do Sunday-school work in connection with the Railway Mission. A firm
friendship resulted from this common interest.

Aylmer Bosanquet's plan was to go out with Nona Clarke and live on the
prairie, working amongst the children and supplementing the work of the
clergy in any other possible way. She proposed to finance the expedition
entirely herself. At first the Secretary for the Archbishops' Western
Canada Fund was very dubious about accepting her generous offer, having
been out in Canada himself, and knowing that life in a prairie shack is
exceedingly hard for gently nurtured women. But Aylmer Bosanquet was so
urgent that at last she won the day, and she and Nona Clarke went out to
Regina in 1915. They established themselves at Kenaston, where they
lived in a three-roomed shack and did all their own work, even to the
grooming of the buggy horses.

The women missioners went up to Regina once a quarter, when the clergy
and laymen met to discuss their work. They brought valuable
contributions to the matter in hand. They had found great ignorance
amongst the children, some of whom did not even know the Lord's Prayer.
At their first Christmas they found several children who had never heard
of the birth of Christ. All that the holy season meant to them was
contained in the nursery legend of Father Christmas.

This ignorance is largely due to there being no Scripture teaching in
the public elementary schools, although there is a clause in the
Saskatchewan Education Act which says that the last half-hour of every
day may be given to Scripture teaching if the trustees are agreed.
Unfortunately, they seldom do agree in this matter, as they usually
belong to different religious bodies. Nor is there any religious
teaching in the collegiate schools (which correspond with English high
schools), even in Regina, the capital of the province. The following
answer was given by a collegiate girl in a secular examination: "When
William the Conqueror went to England he found no code of laws, and so
he drew up the Ten Commandments."

After about four years of strenuous work, Aylmer Bosanquet fell ill, and
was obliged to go into a nursing home at Toronto for a serious
operation. In the quiet time of convalescence her thoughts were busy
with the work so dear to her, and she began to consider the problem of
the many children in the enormous diocese of Qu'Appelle, who had no
Sunday school, and who could not be reached by rail or buggy from the
existing centres. She felt that the future of the Anglican Church in
Canada depended upon the religious training of these children, and an
idea came to her whereby these isolated places might be reached. Her
plan was that trained women should go out on to the prairie, two and
two, in caravans during the season when the trails are passable. They
would gather the children together and start Sunday schools, training
teachers to carry them on. In the winter they would return to some
central town, whence they would keep in touch with the quite isolated
children by means of the Sunday School by post. They would also lecture
locally and give demonstration lessons.

Many of these trained women would be needed if all the children on the
prairie were to be reached. It would be necessary at first to recruit
from England, but later it might be possible to develop a movement
already started, but which had had to be temporarily abandoned for lack
of a suitable head--namely, a training college for the Dominion of
Canada on the lines of St. Christopher's, Blackheath.

Aylmer Bosanquet wrote to me describing her new plan. She was very
anxious to see it in operation, for the diocese of Qu'Appelle alone
covers 92,000 square miles (about twice the size of England), and two
women, though with the best will in the world, could do comparatively
little in that immense area.

The project of caravanning on the prairie in the interests of religious
education appealed to me very strongly, and as Aylmer Bosanquet soon
afterwards came home to England to recuperate, we were able to discuss
the matter together. Her idea was to have a horse caravan which should
be moved on from place to place by the farmers. But as I have lived all
my life in an agricultural district, I knew the difficulties consequent
on wanting the use of farm horses in seed-time and harvest--the very
seasons when the trails are open--and I also knew that horses could
never cover the necessary distances. In my own diocesan work, which took
me to little out-of-the-way villages among the fells of Cumberland and
Westmorland, I had found it necessary to use a car, and I therefore felt
it would be best to have a motor caravan.

It would be worse than useless to take a motor-car on to the rough
prairie trails unless one had had long driving experience and done a
considerable amount of running repairs. To learn to drive one year and
to go out the next would probably mean finding yourself in a tight
corner. As I had been allowed to use our cars throughout the War, in
connection with my Sunday school work and a V.A.D. hospital, I had
fortunately gained a good deal of practical experience, especially as it
was necessary to drive in all weathers, day and night, over the steep
hills of the Lake District. When these hills were covered in ice your
car would run backwards or skid and come down sideways, and these
happenings were a useful preparation for the steep, sandy banks of the
trail, where the wheels could not grip. Then, too, as our chauffeur was
called up and mechanics were scarce, we had to do our own repairs.

The diocese having consented to my being absent for six months, I found
a substitute to carry on my work, and began my preparations for the
prairie tour.

  CHAPTER II

  PREPARATIONS AND DEPARTURE

The first idea was to buy one of the Red Cross motor ambulances then
being sold off in London, but transport difficulties made it impossible
to take one across. Meanwhile Aylmer Bosanquet, having returned to
Canada, found that the Saskatchewan Bible Society had a Ford caravan in
which a man could live and sleep, travelling about the province with
Bibles. Also, Archdeacon Burgett, the Diocesan Missioner for Qu'Appelle,
was having a Ford caravan built for two of his mission clergy. She sent
me details of these vans, and I asked her to order me a similar one, the
interior fittings to be decided upon when I came out in the spring.

The next thing to do was to find a fellow-worker for the tour; and this
was by no means easy, for she must not only have been trained at St.
Christopher's and be physically strong, but she must be prepared to pay
her own expenses, there being as yet no fund to finance the venture.
Fortunately, however, an experienced ex-student, Miss Winifred
Ticehurst, offered to go. She had trained at St. Christopher's soon
after its foundation, and had since had considerable experience in
Sunday-school and parish work.

Then came the difficulty of getting passages and passports. These would
never have been granted had we not been able to prove that we were going
out to work. After the trials consequent on a visit to Cook's agent the
following incident in the current _Punch_ seemed peculiarly apposite.
Scene: The office of a travel bureau. Clerk (helping nervous-looking
lady to fill up form): "And the address of the nearest relation to whom
the body may be sent if found dead?"

I intended to travel via New York, in order to visit some cousins. I had
heard of the fame of the U.S.A. Sunday-schools, and wished to see some
of them. I also hoped to meet Dr. Gardner, the Secretary of the
Executive Committee of the Department of Religious Education for the
American Episcopal Church. It was therefore necessary to get my passport
visaed at the American Consulate, and on presenting the customary letter
of recommendation from a clergyman I was much amused when the clerk eyed
me suspiciously and remarked: "A letter from a clergyman is nothing to
go by. They are so easily taken in."

The question of equipment had taken considerable thought, and the result
seems worth setting down, in view of its possible service to others. The
chief items were: a motorist's 1919 tent with bamboo poles,
sleeping-bags, a double Primus stove and a Tommy cooker, a ferrostate
flask and two thermos flasks, canvas buckets, clothes both for winter
and summer (landworkers' suits for driving the caravan, which,
unfortunately, the Canadians regarded as displaying an undue amount of
"limb"!). Then, for use in the prairie schools, sets of Nelson's
pictures and Sunday School Institute models (given me by the Girls'
Diocesan Association for Carlisle diocese), and a case of books of
graded lesson courses and a quantity of postcard pictures of "The Hope
of the World" and "The New Epiphany." A tip from an experienced
traveller proved most useful. This was to fasten the packing-cases with
bands of tin nailed on, instead of with ropes, as the latter frequently
break when the cases are swung aboard ship, scattering the contents on
deck.

In February, 1920, we embarked at Liverpool for New York. Winifred
Ticehurst was to meet me at the boat, and my feelings may be imagined as
the time drew on, the friends seeing me off had to leave, and still no
fellow-traveller appeared. At last, five minutes before they raised the
gangway, she ran up, breathless. Her passport had not been dated in
London, and they had sent her back from the boat to get it dated at the
American Consulate in Liverpool. It was an ill-omened opening for her
voyage, which proved one of great discomfort, as she was more or less
ill for a week. She managed to write descriptive letters, all the same,
and the following extract is a vivid portrait of our fellow-travellers
(we went second-class to save expense).

"The young men and maidens . . . sit about on one another's laps, and
the correct way to get ready for lunch is, when you hear the gong, to
part yourself from your companion, pull a comb out of your pocket and do
your hair--then you are ready."

I did not suffer from sea-sickness myself, and never missed a meal.
Indeed, the waiters seemed greatly intrigued at my appetite, and I
fancy, from the way they pressed the various courses, that they were
betting on how much I could eat!

A day or two before we reached New York there was a horrid orgy on
board. Knowing that they were entering a "dry" country, many of the
passengers got drunk, shouting and raging all night long, so that one
could not sleep. On the prairie I afterwards found other ill-effects of
prohibition--the smuggling of spirits and excessive drug-taking, the
latter chiefly amongst women. Before passing such laws it surely would
have been advisable to have created a stronger public opinion to support
them. Otherwise there is danger of finding two evils in the place of
one.

On the other hand, future generations should benefit greatly by this
measure, however imperfectly it now works. It seems improbable that the
health and industrial prosperity of non-prohibition countries will equal
those of "dry" countries.

The day before we entered New York we got into the end of a blizzard.
There was a tremendously high sea, and we moved very little that day. We
received a wireless message from a ship just out of a Canadian port
which had struck a rock in the storm, but we were too far off to go to
her assistance.

Our stay in New York proved to be an amazing and exhilarating
experience. The palatial manner in which, in a private house, one is
assigned one's own "compartments," would have satisfied Mr. Salteena;
and the restaurants are a paradise for the discerning palate. A brief
but thorough experience of American luxury in a great city was, from its
very contrast, a fitting prelude to the rough life of the prairie. You
get a more complete picture with strongly-drawn lights and shades.

  RELIGIOUS EDUCATION IN THE U.S.A. AND CANADA

There is a very remarkable system of religious education in New York,
Boston, Detroit, Cleveland, and many other cities. The entire
educational work of the Church in the United States is under the
direction of the Department of Religious Education of the National
Council (called in the United States "The Presiding Bishop and
Council"). The Department of Education has several divisions:
Theological Seminaries, Church Boarding Schools (the same as Public
Schools in England), Church Sunday Schools, Week-day Schools, work among
students in State Universities, Pageantry, etc.

All Church School teachers are urged to go to Normal Schools. These are
successfully operated in New York City, Boston, Detroit, and Cleveland.
The teacher attends the Normal School once a month and receives
instruction from an expert in Child Study, Psychology, and Methods, and
also has an opportunity to discuss the outlines and illustrations for
the four lessons which are to be taught the following month. The lesson
material is from the Christian Nurture Series. This Series is a most
up-to-date graded course for children from four to seventeen years of
age.

Week-day schools are provided for children who are excused from the
public schools (that is, the great schools supported entirely by State
funds) for one hour or more each week for religious instruction under
the Church of his parents' affiliation. These schools stand for the
co-operation of the Church and State in the education of the child. The
State does not technically release the child for religious instruction,
but honours the request of the parent and excuses the child for extra
educational work desired by the parent.

It is realised in America that religious education cannot be successful
without the co-operation of the parents, therefore the Christian Nurture
Series provides a "Monthly Letter to Parents" to be forwarded regularly
by the teacher. These letters explain clearly what is required for the
preparation of each Sunday's lesson during the week. Social gatherings
are also arranged for the parents from time to time, at which an address
is given bearing upon the importance of the religious training of the
child, and calculated to enlist parental interest and co-operation.

An interesting example of the practical application of these principles
was afforded by a visit to what we should call in England an "upper
class" Sunday School. I had already met the superintendent, Miss Warren,
and she had explained one most interesting feature of her
system--namely, that each month she held a staff meeting of parents and
teachers to discuss the lesson, the children, and the school. In each
department of the school there was a superintendent; a grade leader who
ensured a continual supply of teachers (absentees having to send in
their names to her beforehand); a teacher and an assistant teacher for
each class, the latter being there to learn her art; and a pupil teacher
to hear the memory work. Some of the teachers received a salary, and all
the children paid a small entrance fee. These fees, however, did not
suffice for expenses, owing to the very good apparatus in use, but the
deficit was made up by the church.

A conspicuous feature of the school was a large diagram which hung near
the superintendent's table. It consisted of five rings: the small
central circle represented "Parish and Home," the next ring "Community,"
the next "Diocese," the next "Nation," and the outer ring "The World."
At the end of the session an appeal was made by the secretary each
Sunday for one of the above "fields of service," which took the form of
a stirring address on the need for supporting the work. The secretaries
were always some of the elder pupils, and their appeals were remarkably
well expressed for such young persons. After the address the secretaries
of each class were asked to vote a sum of money for the cause, which
they did after discussion with their class-mates. The school had a
choir of girls led by a talented musician, and they all united to teach
the children hymns.

Miss Warren took me to see Dr. Gardner, and, considering the excellence
of the system at which the American religious educationist aims, it was
encouraging to find him taking great interest in the proposed caravan
tour. He even went so far as to ask for details of the plan, and to
request that an account might be sent to him for publication. On the
appearance of this article he appealed for volunteers and money in order
to start a similar campaign on the plains of the U.S.A., where no
religious instruction was at present provided for the children.

After ten days in New York, we went on to stay with friends in Toronto.
Here we took the opportunity of inquiring into the methods of, and
opportunities for, religious education in Canada. We were greatly helped
in this by an introduction to the Rev. Dr. Hiltz, General Secretary of
the General Board of Religious Education for the Church of England in
the Dominion of Canada. The following is a summary of the information
given by him or gleaned from other sources.

Under the British North America Act of 1867 the right to legislate on
matters respecting education was reserved exclusively to the Provincial
Legislatures subject to the maintenance of the rights and privileges of
the denominational and separate schools as existing at the time of the
union or admission of provinces to the union.

This gave to the Roman Catholics in the Province of Ontario the right to
have separate schools, and to the Protestants in the Province of Quebec
a similar right. In other provinces of the Dominion, with the exception
of Saskatchewan and Alberta, however, separate public schools have no
legal standing. The right to have separate schools in the Provinces of
Alberta and Saskatchewan was conceded to these provinces when they were
admitted to the Dominion.

So far as religious education in the public schools in Canada is
concerned, the following brief summary will give some idea of the
situation and at the same time strongly emphasise the need.

In _Nova Scotia_ the matter is largely in the hands of the local
authorities. So long as no one objects, religious instruction may be
given in accordance with the wishes of the majority of the supporters of
the school.

In _New Brunswick_ schools _may_ be opened with the reading of Scripture
and the use of the Lord's Prayer, but as this regulation is permissive
only, everything depends upon the individual teacher.

In _Prince Edward Island_ the reading of the Bible at the opening of
school is authorised.

In _Quebec_ in the Protestant schools the first half-hour of each day is
devoted to religious exercises and instruction in morals and Scripture.

In _Ontario_ the public school _must_ be opened with the reading of
Scripture and the repeating of the Lord's Prayer, or the prayer
authorised by the Department. Religious instruction may be given by the
clergyman to the pupils of his denomination once a week after school
hours.

In _Manitoba_ ministers of the various religious communions have the
right to go into the schools at 3.30 once a week and give the children
religious instruction.

In _Saskatchewan_ and _Alberta_ the School Board may permit religious
instruction to be given during the last half-hour of the day, and may
direct that the school be opened with the recitation of the Lord's
Prayer.

In _British Columbia_ no provision is made for religious instruction,
but the Lord's Prayer may be used in opening and closing the school.

In most large towns and many villages of the Dominion of Canada there
are well-organised Sunday schools. Some of the dioceses have in the past
had Diocesan Sunday School Organisers. The Diocese of Rupert's Land was
a pioneer in this direction, and the Dioceses of Toronto and Huron have
also had such officials. The City of Ottawa for several years had a
resident Anglican Sunday School Organiser, an ex-student of St.
Christopher's College.

The religious educational work of the Church in Canada is organised
under the General Synod, the General Board of Religious Education being
the officially appointed body for the promotion of this work. It began
as a Sunday School Commission in 1908, but in 1918 was enlarged to a
Board of Religious Education.

Its work falls into five departments, namely:

1. _The Department of Parochial Education._

  This department concerns itself with:

  (_a_) Religious education through the agency of the home.

  (_b_) Religious education through the agency of the Sunday School.

  (_c_) Religious education through the agency of Adult Bible Classes and
  Young People's organisations.

2. _The Department of Religious Education in Public and Private
Schools._

  This department concerns itself with religious education in public and
  high schools and in church boarding schools.

3. _The Department of Teacher Training._

  This department concerns itself with:

  (_a_) The training of teachers and officers in the local Sunday School.

  (_b_) Teacher training in church boarding schools.

  (_c_) Training for leadership in provincial normal schools.

  (_d_) The training of students in our theological colleges in religious
  pedagogy.

4. _The Lantern Slide Department._

  This department concerns itself with the promotion of educational work
  through the medium of the lantern in all branches of the Church's
  activities.

5. _The Editorial Department._

  This department concerns itself with the providing of suitable material
  for use in the promotion of religious education through the other
  departments, including the preparation and publication of the necessary
  lesson helps for teachers and pupils.

In connection with the work of the Parochial Department, an interesting
attempt has been made to reach the people in the scattered districts
through what is known as "The Sunday School by Post." This is
practically the only way in which isolated families can be helped who
are too far away to make attendance at Sunday school possible, and too
few in numbers to support a school of their own. This Sunday School by
Post sends out monthly and weekly graded lesson helps, each lesson
having its own illustrations, questions, memory work, prayers, and Bible
readings for each week. The parents are asked to see that the child has
ample opportunity to do the written work, and this is returned to the
Diocesan Secretary for the Sunday School by Post for examination and
correction.

Sunday School by Post secretaries are now working in the Dioceses of
Qu'Appelle, Saskatchewan, Calgary, Edmonton, and Athabasca, and, now
that the General Board of Religious Education has a western field
secretary at work, in the person of the Rev. W. Simpson, it is hoped
that other dioceses may be led to establish work similar to this to
reach the church people in the more distant settlements.

Without some such help as this the parents usually find it impossible to
give their children religious instruction. They have little time for
thought or study, and have frequently forgotten what they once knew. But
their interest is very keen when roused, as the following incident
proves. In one of the public schools, during the history hour, the
teacher read part of the story of Joseph, but not having time to read
the whole of it promised to finish it next day. One child, thrilled by
the story and impatient for the end, went home and asked his parents if
they could finish it for him. "Joseph!" they said, "Joseph! Surely we
have heard that name somewhere." At last they remembered that it was a
biblical name. A long search finally revealed the Bible, dusty from long
neglect, and a further search discovered the story, which was read with
intense interest by parents and child alike. When the latter went to
school next day he proudly told his class-mates how the fascinating
adventure ended.

In connection with the Parochial Department, much is also being done for
the training of boys and girls of the "teen" age. With a view to meeting
the needs of these young people, a Council on Boys' Work, a Council on
Girls' Work, and a Council on Young People's Work have been formed,
whose chief task it is to prepare and issue definite programmes of
mid-week activities for organised groups of older boys and girls and
young people. The plan which is largely followed is that known as the
fourfold plan, the aim being to develop these adolescents physically,
intellectually, socially, and spiritually. The programmes are of such a
character that they can be worked out through any type of organisation
desired, whether it is with an organised class in Sunday School, a Boy
Scout or Girl Guide Troop, Trail Rangers, Tuxis Square, or Anglican
Young People's Association.

The publication work of the Board is extensive, lesson courses and
helps, both for teachers and pupils, being provided for all departments
from the little beginners to the adult Bible classes. These constitute
the official lesson schemes of the Church of England in Canada, and are
used in the great majority of the schools.

A very effective piece of work is being done by the Teacher Training
Department, which not only provides courses of training for teacher
training classes in the local parish, but has also made provision for
definite teacher training work to be carried on amongst the Anglican
students in attendance at the Normal Schools in the provinces of Ontario
and Quebec. In addition to this, definite courses of training are
provided for the students in attendance at the Church of England
Deaconess and Missionary Training School in Toronto, and in the various
theological colleges of the Church of England. In five of these latter,
the General Secretary of the Board of Religious Education lectures
regularly.

Another important channel for the promotion of teacher training work is
that provided through Summer Schools, which are held regularly at
strategic centres from the Maritime Provinces to British Columbia. These
schools are conducted under the auspices of the three Boards of the
Church--namely, the Missionary Society, the Board of Religious
Education, and the Council for Social Service.

Dr. Hiltz kindly showed interest in our caravan project, and said that
if it proved possible of accomplishment he would like a report of the
work at the end of the season. He remarked that there was great need for
work of the kind.

  CHAPTER IV

  LIFE IN A LITTLE PRAIRIE TOWN

We had arranged to work at Regina until the season was sufficiently
advanced for us to take the road, but before leaving Toronto I heard
that my caravan was not yet begun. This was exceedingly worrying, as it
was now the middle of March, and I wished to start on the prairie by May
1, when the trails should be open. I had only six months' leave from my
diocese, and was anxious to make the most of it, and now it seemed as if
the whole plan would be spoilt by this delay over the caravan. I
determined to stop at Winnipeg on my way to Regina in order to see about
the matter, and to bring what influence I could to bear upon the
coach-building firm. As a member of the Victoria League,[1] I had an
introduction to a Daughter of the Empire at Winnipeg, and I wrote and
asked her to use her influence in getting my order for the caravan put
through without further delay. Then, arming myself with a letter from an
official of the Royal Bank of Canada, stating that I was to be relied
upon to carry out my business transactions, I had a "stop-over" for
Winnipeg put on our tickets, and on arrival in that town went straight
to the coachbuilder's office. The Daughter of the Empire had telephoned
to the firm, and this, with the official's letter, had the desired
effect. The manager was most civil and obliging, and promised to do
everything in his power to carry out the contract. To my surprise I
found that the order for the caravan had never been received, the firm
through which it had been given never having transmitted it. When I
pressed for a promise that the van should be finished by May 1, adding
that otherwise I should not pay for it, the manager, knowing that I came
from the land of labour troubles, said, with a twinkle in his eye: "Yes,
if there isn't a strike."

I spent some hours in attending to the details of the van, and then we
went on to Regina by the night train, arriving there next morning. The
clergy of the Railway Mission gave us hospitality at first, then
Winifred Ticehurst went to work in St. Peter's parish, and lived at the
vicarage, and I went to St. Mary's parish, and lived in lodgings.

Soon after I arrived in Regina Aylmer Bosanquet asked me to go out to
her at Kenaston for a week-end. I was thankful that I was going to make
my cross-country journeys by caravan when I found that it was no unusual
thing for the trains in Western Canada to be three hours late in
starting. This was so much a matter of course that a
fellow-traveller--one of the Railway Mission clergy, who was going up to
Kenaston to take service on the Sunday--telephoned to the station from
the Mission-house before attempting to catch the train. These automatic
telephones were a feature of every house in Regina, and were also
installed in all parish halls and public buildings. The person using
them could switch on to the desired number without calling up through
the Exchange.

It was a five hours' journey to Kenaston, which is a typical prairie
town--just a wide earth road, with wooden side-walks, and bordered on
either side by wooden shacks. Even in Regina all but the main streets
are of this unpaved earth, and when the snow is melting or after heavy
rain this earth turns into thick and sticky mud (called "gumbo"), which
cakes on your boots in lumps of incredible hardness, so that you often
find yourself walking with one foot higher than the other. It is so hard
that it can only be scraped off with a knife. Of course one has to clean
one's own boots, unless one is near a "Shoe-shine Parlour" in some
large town.

Kenaston is surrounded by illimitable prairie, across which one can see
for twenty or thirty miles. When I first saw it the prairie was covered
with snow, stained crimson in the West by the red glow of the setting
sun. An unforgettable sight.

The town has a lumber-yard and several elevators, both of which are
found in every town situated close to the "track"--_i.e._, the railway.
The lumber (trees sawn into boards) is sent down from British Columbia
and other parts for building shacks, etc., there being no timber trees
on the prairie. The elevator is a high granary for storing the wheat
till it is sent away by train.

Small as the place is there are three churches--Anglican, Roman
Catholic, and Evangelical Lutheran. In many places there is a "Union"
Church and Sunday school. This is a sort of co-operative Nonconformity,
the ministers of the different denominations officiating alternately.
Presbyterians have united in this matter with the other non-episcopal
sects. The plan has been adopted to economise in men and money; but its
weak point seems to be that, as the ministers have to please all
denominations, the teaching is apt to become wishy-washy. A possible
alternative occurred to me--namely, that all the religious bodies of a
given area should combine to build a church, which could then be used
for their own special services at different hours. But, of course, this
plan would not economise in men.

Aylmer Bosanquet's shack had three rooms, all on the ground floor, with
a veranda reached by steps. All the wooden houses have a basement
beneath them, dug out of the earth and concreted. This helps to keep the
houses dry and warm, and in the larger ones the furnace for the central
heating is placed here. A stove going night and day is absolutely
essential in the winter, as it is often forty or fifty degrees below
zero. But the cold is not felt as severely as might be expected because
of the dry, sunny atmosphere.

Life in a shack was a distinct contrast from life in New York. My
hostesses slept together in a bed 2½ feet wide in order to accommodate
their guest. In the dark of the wintry morning, about 7 a.m., I roused
up sleepily to find Aylmer Bosanquet bringing me hot water, herself
fully dressed and armed with logs, just going out to light the stove in
the church, so that it might be warm when the people came at eight
o'clock.

St. Colomba's was a typical prairie church, square built, without a
chancel, the plainness of the walls only accentuating the richness of
the altar furnishings. The walls were hung with framed Nelson pictures,
which lent beauty and atmosphere to the church, and suggested meditation
on holy things to all who entered. Most of the pictures were Aylmer
Bosanquet's gifts, and the little wooden font, with its brass basin, was
given by the Sunday School children. The splendid attendance at Holy
Communion and Morning Prayer showed that the adornment of the church was
the expression of a real love for religion. The hearty way in which the
congregation joined in the services was very striking. Their mutual
friendliness also was pleasant to see, and gave point to the usual
greeting: "Pleased to meet you!" murmured in broken English even by the
Chinese member of the congregation, a phrase which left me at a loss for
a suitable reply until I hit upon the plan of always saying it first.

Preparation for the afternoon Sunday School was somewhat hampered by the
necessity for cooking lunch at the same time, and the peas got burnt
while the sand-tray was being prepared. At this unpropitious moment Mr.
G., the Mission clergyman, looked in to smoke a surreptitious pipe,
removed from the disapproving gaze of his flock, who have no sympathy
with this form of self-indulgence on the part of their spiritual
pastors. Unfortunately, in peas versus tobacco, peas won, and with a
discerning sniff Mr. G. remarked: "You seem to be having very strange
food." Which was the more disconcerting as the shack owners had more
than once been reproved for their carelessness of their own comfort.

This first experience of a prairie Sunday School was indicative of the
problems to be faced. It was held perforce in the church, a necessity
with which I was familiar in my little schools on the fells. There were
only sixteen children at Kenaston, their ages ranging from two to
seventeen, so that the grading of lessons and devotions was difficult.
The intelligence and interest displayed by these children were very
remarkable. They did credit to the excellent teaching they had received.

The women missioners had classes in three other places, and held
preparation classes for young teachers, thus training up a supply of
teachers from among the young girls of the neighbourhood. The influence
of the missioners' lives on these young girls was very wonderful.

On the Sunday evening there was no service at Kenaston because Mr. G.
had gone on to take one elsewhere, so we went round to visit the parents
and children. It was noticeable how beloved the missioners were. With
some of the old people they held an informal service, which was greatly
appreciated.

Aylmer and Nona intended to go out on the prairie that summer, in a
different direction from that which I should take, of course, as we
wanted to cover as much ground as possible. Aylmer had ordered a Ford
roadster, which is a two-seater Ford with a folding camp-equipment
attached. This caravanning was a subject of enthralling interest to both
of us.

Life in a shack is a very busy one, but one soon got used to the
inevitable chores, and remembered to keep the pan of melting snow on the
stove always filled, this being the only water available for washing up.
The shortage of water is one of the great trials of prairie life. When I
remembered Aylmer's house in England, with its well-trained servants,
her car and chauffeur, and all the luxuries to which she had always been
accustomed, it emphasised all the more strongly the self-sacrifice of
her present life.

On the Monday morning I wanted to telephone to Regina, and as my hostess
said they were always allowed to use a neighbour's telephone, I took
advantage of this neighbourly kindness. Whilst waiting for the long
distance call I remembered that mutual assistance is the custom of the
West, and helped to make the beds and sweep the house. It was about
mid-day before I had finished with the telephone, and so I was pressed
to stay for dinner. No newcomer is a stranger in that hospitable
country. They were Yorkshire people and seemed delighted to meet another
North Country person.

It was a typical West Canadian meal. It began with boiled Indian corn
served with white sauce, then meat and potatoes, and then delicious
canned fruit served with iced layer cake, the whole accompanied by
strong tea. It is difficult to do as Rome does until you know what Rome
does do, and with agony the guest realised that she had nothing
wherewith to eat the canned fruit before her, having been too engrossed
in conversation to notice the removal of her knife, fork, and spoon.
Like Chinese chop-sticks, these should have been retained throughout the
meal. The scarcity of water necessitates these little economies.

[Footnote 1: An organisation started in memory of Queen Victoria to bind
together the members of the Empire.]

  CHAPTER V

  IN REGINA

Within the last twenty years Regina, the capital of Saskatchewan, has
grown from a colony of wooden huts to a town of over 26,000 inhabitants.
Government House and the Parliament Buildings are finely built of stone,
but most of the houses are of wood, there being no quarries on the
prairie. One not infrequently meets one of these wooden houses moving
along the streets--a fascinating accomplishment. When you wish to live
in another part of the town you simply have your house lifted on to
wooden blocks and skids, and it is then moved bodily with a windlass
turned by horses or machinery. One day I went house-hunting quite
literally, chasing my elusive quarry from street to street with a
camera.

We stayed in Regina for eight weeks, giving lectures and holding
demonstration classes. We were invited to visit parents and teachers,
which we were very glad to do, as by this means we became acquainted
with most interesting people, and saw how life is lived in this part of
the world.

There are four Anglican churches in Regina, St. Paul's having a splendid
parish hall. But Anglicanism only comes fourth in numbers and wealth
here, as it does in Western Canada as a whole. The Presbyterians are the
most numerous, and have a fine church with a conspicuous tower.
Methodism is also very strong. The Roman Catholics have built a
beautiful cathedral on the highest part of the town, with two fine
spires which form a landmark for miles around. Underneath the cathedral
is a large parish hall with rooms for various purposes, and this economy
of space allows room for two tennis-courts in the cathedral grounds.

A large piece of ground has been acquired for the site of the Anglican
cathedral, but this has not yet been begun, because it was thought
better, whilst funds were low, to build the theological college and the
girls' school first. Aylmer Bosanquet gave £1,000 to start this
school,[2] a project in which she took great interest. It is under the
management of the Anglican sisters of St. John the Divine. It supplies a
long-felt want, being the only Anglican Church boarding school in this
part of the West. It has now taken over St. Chad's College, which was
originally built for divinity students, but as their numbers were
greatly depleted by the War, St. Cuthbert's Hostel is now large enough
for their needs. Unfortunately, in many cases the children's schooling
depends upon the crops. Only comparatively well-to-do parents are able
to send their children regularly. Before they have made their way, or
when the crops fail, they have to depend upon the public schools. To
help such parents several bursaries have been given, but others are
needed.

After my week-end at Kenaston I settled down to work in Regina until the
trails were ready. My vicar made arrangements for me to lodge with a
charming family--a Mr. and Mrs. W. and their two daughters. They had
come out from England about twenty years before, and the girls were
thorough Canadians and very delightful creatures. Mrs. W. made me feel
like one of the family, and mothered me in countless ways. She taught me
how to use the Canadian washing-machine, a thing not unlike a churn. You
wash the clothes simply by turning a handle--so many times for white
things and so many times for coloured. She also showed me how to iron my
blouses, and, above all, helped me to buy the equipment for the caravan.
Her advice here was invaluable, as she not only knew the best "stores"
and what a thing ought to cost, but she also interpreted Canadian
terminology, such as "coal oil" for paraffin, "wood alcohol" for
methylated spirits, and "gasolene" for petrol.

Mr. W. was equally helpful, and I soon came to regard him as an
encyclopedia of useful information, especially with regard to practical
business matters. Having lived on the prairie, he also gave me many
valuable tips about prairie life.

The girls were members of the choir, and one was a Sunday School
teacher, and by meeting their friends and going about with them I gained
an insight into the life of young Canada. Pretty faces, very smart
clothes, instant friendliness, swiftness in uptake, a keen interest in
work and play, and a worthy ambition are some of the characteristics of
these young people. The "movies" and ice-cream play a large part in
their lives. The girls usually marry very young and have a large circle
of admirers from whom to choose. Winifred Ticehurst sketched them as
follows in one of her letters: "Choir girls, mortar boards and tassels,
most chic; surplices and cassocks, curls each side of mortar
boards . . . white Eton collars like little boys."

One of the social activities which interested me very much was the
Canadian Girls in Training, organised by the Council on Girls' Work.
They gave a banquet while I was in Regina, and one of the W. girls asked
me to go as her "mother," it being the custom for each of them to invite
a parent or some older person. I was much struck by the excellent
speeches made by the girls. They explained the object of the
organisation, and gracefully thanked all those who had helped towards
its success.

Another very interesting social gathering which I attended was a
reception given by the Daughters of the Empire in the Parliament
Buildings. I had received introductions to all the members of this
association living in any of the towns where I was likely to go. The
President thought that it would be interesting for us to meet the
members who were coming in from all parts of Saskatchewan, and who might
help us on the caravan tour. We were also introduced to Premier Martin,
who was then Minister of Education for Saskatchewan. He gave a most
interesting address on the rural schools, and after hearing about our
project promised to give us introductions to the day school teachers in
the places we hoped to visit.

Further official encouragement resulted from an introduction to the
Lieutenant-Governor, Sir Richard Lake. He welcomed me as a compatriot,
as he had been educated at Heversham Grammar School, in Westmorland. We
had an interesting talk on prairie trails and motoring, and the need for
religious education in the day schools. He was strongly in favour of
this, and expressed regret for the continual opposition to it.

The Daughters of the Empire sent the editor of a Regina newspaper to
interview me. She questioned me on what I had done during the War, the
reason for our coming out, and the places we intended to visit. The
result was an embarrassingly flattering article in the local paper,
which was copied by the _Saskatchewan Star_. A few weeks later the
following notice appeared in another paper: "Bachelors, beware! Two
women are going in a caravan on the prairie. This is Leap Year!"

In Regina I met some very nice girls who had come out under the
Fellowship of the Maple Leaf.[3] They had come to teach in the prairie
schools, and a good many were now in training at the Normal School. I
gave a tea-party for them, and they told me a good deal about their
work, and in return showed great interest in our caravan scheme. Those
of them who were going out to the prairie that summer said that they
hoped we would visit them. I was very glad of this opportunity of
explaining our hopes and aims to these teachers, for I knew it had been
suggested that they should help with religious education, either by
starting Sunday Schools or by giving instruction after school hours
during the week. I foresaw that our great difficulty would be to make
our work permanent in districts where there were no clergy, and I
realised the enormous value of the help of these trained women. They
would already have some knowledge of teaching methods, and some
acquaintance with the Bible and Church doctrine. It would be a simple
matter to show them how to apply psychological methods to religious
education, and, helped with lesson courses and pictures, they could
easily carry on any Sunday Schools we might be able to start in their
neighbourhood.

We did not talk shop all the time; the "green Englishwomen" were put
through a severe catechism on Canadian as it is spoken. But the W.
family having instructed me carefully, I came off better than might have
been expected.

I saw a good deal of the deaconess in charge of the Maple Leafs. She
found them comfortable lodgings, and befriended them in every possible
way. She asked us to look up any of them whom we came across in the
out-of-the-way prairie schools. Her only way of visiting was by train,
and some of these schools were far from any "track." She was very kind
to us and helped us in many ways.

Whilst I was in Regina I had to plan out the organisation of the caravan
tour. I was given the names of a large number of places to visit and the
routes we were to follow, but no names of the clergy in the different
"districts" (parishes). I had no idea how far apart these places were,
or how long it would take to get from place to place in the caravan. I
therefore got a map and worked out the mileage between the places. On
the earth trails outside Regina I had often seen motor-cars stuck in
mud-holes, and I had noticed the deep ruts of these unmetalled roads, so
I concluded that we could not make more than ten miles an hour at most
in the caravan. On these two calculations I based the mileage we might
hope to cover.

When at last I obtained the names of the clergy on my proposed route, I
found that there were large areas in which there were no Anglican
clergymen at all. I then wrote to the clergy, and, lacking these, the
leading laity when I could find their names. In some cases this was
impossible until I neared their district. In these letters I made the
following suggestions. We should like to come and stay a week in their
locality, living and sleeping in the caravan and doing our own cooking
(I wished to make it clear that we should not be burdensome), but we
should be glad to receive invitations and hospitality at times in order
to get to know the people. Where there was a Sunday School in existence,
we proposed to superintend the school and teach, while the teachers
watched. Where there was no Sunday School, we should like to have the
children gathered together to form one. In this case we hoped that
prospective teachers would come to be shown how to teach, that they
might carry on the school when we had started it, helped by the books
and pictures which we proposed to leave them. We also requested the
trustees to allow us to give Scripture lessons in the day schools in the
half-hour allotted for that purpose, and also expressed our great desire
to meet the parents, that we might discuss with them the problems of
religious education.

I received most kind replies to these letters. The writers offered us a
hearty welcome, and said how pleased they would be to have people coming
out to them, for, as a rule, they had little help in these matters,
beyond an invitation to a summer school just when the harvest was in
full swing.

I should add here what I had been most careful to explain--namely, that
we were given diocesan authority for our work by Archdeacon Dobie, D.D.,
who was acting as Commissary for the Bishop owing to the latter's
breakdown through overwork, and by Archdeacon Burgett, the Chairman of
the Sunday School Diocesan Association, who was also Diocesan
Missioner.

[Footnote 2: The Qu'Appelle Diocesan Boarding School for Girls.]

[Footnote 3: See Appendix I.]

  CHAPTER VI

  THE MOTOR CARAVAN

Whilst in Regina waiting for the caravan to be ready for the road I took
steps to be ready for the van. I had never driven a Ford, but Aylmer
Bosanquet's Ford roadster arrived whilst I was in Regina, and she
allowed me to have lessons on it. It was quite easy to drive, and on the
second day I took it out alone. I also went to a motor school and had a
course of lessons on Ford running repairs and vulcanising tyres. The
head man was exceedingly nice, and took infinite pains to help me in
every way. I was the only woman in the shop, but there were a great many
men learning motor-tractor work preparatory to working on the prairie
farms. Most of them had been in the army. They took a most embarrassing
interest in me and my future plans, putting me through the usual
catechism, with the inevitable leading question: "Are you married?" They
seemed to think it was not fit for two women to go out alone on the
prairie, as in Western Canada women hardly ever drive outside the towns,
and never do their own running repairs--and seldom even oil their
engines, judging from the sound.

On May 1 I heard that the caravan was ready, but, unfortunately, the
trails were not yet open. However, spring comes suddenly on the prairie.
On May 2 there was a blizzard of snow, and on May 5 it was like an
English midsummer day. Archdeacon Burgett advised us not to fetch our
caravan until his clergy had arrived at Regina with theirs, as they
could then tell us what the trails were like. They came in on the
Saturday, May 8, having had a very rough time with snow-drifts and
mud-holes. They had bent their back lamp and damaged a rear mudguard. I
noticed that they had no shock absorbers, which accounted for a good
deal of the damage. They gave us a book with directions and maps of the
blazed trail between Winnipeg and Regina, and gave us a lurid
description of the perils of the way, apparently wishing to dissuade us
from what they considered a mad attempt. But as I had mapped out the
caravan itinerary with but little margin, I did not wish to lose any
time in getting off, so Winifred Ticehurst and I started for Winnipeg
late on Sunday evening (after working pretty hard all day). We took a
blanket or two and a little spirit lamp and saucepan as our sole camping
equipment. The parish hall, in which our sleeping-bags, etc., were
stored, was locked, and the caretaker had gone to church.

[Illustration: THE CARAVAN AND HER CREW

(W. M. T. LEFT, F. H. E. H. RIGHT)]

[Illustration: THE INTERIOR OF THE VAN]

  _To face p. 28_

[Illustration: TIDYING UP (see page 54)]

[Illustration: A SHACK ON THE MOVE (see page 22)]

We arrived at Winnipeg at 11.30 a.m. on Monday, and went straight to the
coachbuilder's. The manager showed us the caravan, which was all ready
for the road, except that they had not put non-skid tyres on the rear as
ordered. I pointed this out, and the manager said that the mistake had
been made by the Ford Company, but he would send the car down to have it
put right in the morning. We had expected to start that afternoon, but
were told that the car had not yet been passed by the Government
officials, who were going to register it as a commercial vehicle to
escape taxation. As it was a public holiday this could not be done until
next day.

The caravan was much like a tradesman's van in appearance. It was
painted black, with "Sunday School Mission, Anglican Church," lettered
in red and gold on one side. The driving seat could be completely closed
in when necessary, for, besides the wind-screen, there were half-glass
doors on either side, which in hot weather could be taken off and put
behind the mattresses. There were two doors at the back of the van,
which opened outwards. As the side doors had their catches inside, when
we wished to leave the caravan we got out at the back and padlocked
these doors, thus making all secure. The back of the driving-seat was
hinged and folded forward at night, so that the six-foot mattresses
which were strapped back to the van sides during the day could come
down over it. Beneath one mattress was a wooden locker, and under the
other a wooden shelf with legs. There was also a shelf on one wall of
the van. When I got back to Regina, before starting out on the prairie,
I added further items, which the run from Winnipeg had shown to be
desirable. An electric bulb was fitted to the roof of the van, and a
reflecting glass put on the left side. I also got an inspection lamp for
use at night in case anything went wrong with the engine. This could be
attached to the electric current which supplied the bulb. We racked our
brains to think of some means of keeping the things on the shelf, and
finally nailed on wire netting, which we hooked to the roof. This proved
very effective, but so great was the jar that the dancing pots and pans
wore it out from time to time. We made a bag to hold our tidiest
clothes, and blue cotton covers for the mattresses and a bag to keep our
pillows clean. We also nailed linoleum on the floor of the van, because
dust and draughts came through cracks in the wood-work, and this made
the floor easy to keep clean.

The caravan had a Ford chassis with electric starter and head lights. I
had heard that for the rough prairie trails nothing could beat a Ford
engine. Only a car with a high clearance is of any use on these earth
roads, and whereas a heavy car would stick in a mud-hole the light Ford
can get through. Then again, even little "towns" which are nothing more
than hamlets stock Ford spare parts, both in garages and in the ordinary
"hardware stores"--_i.e._, iron-mongers. I had had two extra petrol
tanks put on the foot-board, each holding 8½ gallons, so that we could
carry 25 gallons in all. The tool box, also, was on the foot-board, so
the spare tyre had to be strapped inside the caravan above the driving
seat. We had very strong shock absorbers to prevent the body smashing
the back axle and springs when we went through very deep holes, and
sub-radius rods to strengthen the steering-rod and front axle. I carried
three spare tubes as I had not remountable rims, and a pyrene
extinguisher fixed inside the car in case of fire through damage to the
petrol tanks on the rough trails.

I fitted out the caravan in the light of what I had learnt about the
prairie from the Regina Railway Mission clergy lecturing in England, and
from books on the subject. From these sources I knew something about the
condition of the roads and the storms one might expect. This was why I
insisted on having a caravan rather than a Ford roadster, for though the
lightness of the latter would enable it to get through a mud-hole where
a caravan might stick, I guessed that a prairie thunderstorm with its
terrific winds and torrential rains would sweep away the tent and hood
of the roadster like straws, leaving the occupants homeless.

As we could not get away that day we were obliged to find lodgings for
the night, and had not the least idea where to go. I would have asked
hospitality from the Daughter of the Empire to whom I had an
introduction, but we did not care to present ourselves to a stranger in
our travel-stained condition, and we had brought no evening clothes with
us. Winifred suggested that we should try to find a Y.W.C.A., which we
did. The head received us very kindly, and gave us cheap and comfortable
accommodation. Had we not been so tired we might have attended a concert
in their concert-hall.

Next morning we went to a store which sold camping outfits and bought
several things, in particular a cunning arrangement of aluminium cooking
utensils which fitted neatly into a canvas bag. Canadians make a
speciality of this kind of thing, as people often camp out when on a
shooting or fishing expedition. I also had to get several extra tools
for the car, as very few were provided with it. Whilst I did this
Winifred went off to buy food.

When I went to fetch the caravan I found that a mechanic was just about
to take it to the Ford Company to have the non-skid tyres put on, so I
accompanied him. I noticed that it was not easy to drive in traffic, you
could not see out of the back, and as yet it had no reflecting glass.
The engine was very stiff as it had just come out of the assembly shop
and had not been run, so it was difficult to steer and to regulate the
speed. Also it swung a good deal as the body was very long, and the
shock absorbers helped to make it swing. Though Main Street, Winnipeg,
is much wider than Oxford Street, it also contains much more traffic,
including trams, so it was not surprising that we nearly ran into a
motor bicycle and other vehicles. Then the pyrene extinguisher fell out,
and I had to rescue it from under the nose of a tram.

Seeing what Winnipeg traffic was like, and how stiff the engine was, and
also not knowing the way out of the town, I thought of the suggestion
made by the Regina motor school, where I had learnt Ford running
repairs. This was that I should ask a mechanic of their Winnipeg branch
to look over the engine and see if it were rightly adjusted, and then
take us out of Winnipeg. Leaving the caravan at the Ford Company, I went
to find this firm. The address given to me proved to be a barber's shop.
This was rather disconcerting, but, on inquiring the way, I found that
it belonged to the same firm, and they directed me to the motor shops.
They sent a mechanic with me, but he seemed all the time to be in a
great hurry, and kept looking at his watch. I left him looking at the
engine while I went after something or other, and when I came back he
was gone. I then saw that I should have to take the van out of Winnipeg
myself, as they could not spare a mechanic from the Ford Company.

What must be must, so Winifred and I started off and drove into Main
Street, with its surging stream of trams and cars. The rule of the road
here is the opposite of the English rule, all cars having a left-hand
drive, so I thought it best to cross over to the right side of the
street. But just as I had turned across the tram-lines a policeman
stopped me, saying that I must cross further up at the regular
crossing-place. The engine, being stiff, stopped dead, and there we
were, right in the way of the trams. However, by the help of the
self-starter, I got it going again and tried to turn, but the
steering-wheel was so stiff that I nearly ran into the pavement. We went
on further up the street until we came to a red notice which marked the
crossing-place, but as I had to drive slowly through the traffic, the
engine kept stopping, so I turned into a side street, and with a good
deal of difficulty found my way out of the town. With every mile the
engine ran better, and after fifty miles it went quite easily.

  CHAPTER VII

  THE PRAIRIE TRAILS

The prairie trails are simply earth roads, it being impossible to get
stone for them. The very best trail is much like the worst cart road in
England. The trail is made by scooping out the earth on either side of a
wide track, and throwing it into the middle, where the clods are baked
as hard as bricks by the sun. These clods would knock the bottom out of
any car which had not a high clearance--the more so as a used trail has
ruts about two feet deep. Trail-making is usually done by a scoop drawn
by two horses, but in some places a kind of motor-plough is used. In dry
weather a simple track across the prairie made by carts and horses is
much easier going, but these tracks are impossible when the snow is
melting, or after the heavy thunderstorms of summer. Therefore all the
main trails have to be raised in the middle to let off the water, which
would otherwise stand till it formed sloughs. When once on the trail you
have to keep there, as it is either bordered by a three-foot bank whence
the earth was dug, or else it slopes straight into a slough. These
sloughs are like great ponds, their bottoms are covered with deep mud,
and if it once gets in, a car sinks deeper and deeper, and cannot be got
out. The sloughs are very beautiful, reflecting the wonderful blue of
the sky, or the marvellous colours of sunset. A prairie sunset is quite
beyond description. I have never seen such colours in England.

The flowers on the prairie are lovely, forming a changing kaleidoscope
of colour throughout the summer months. They border the trails and the
sloughs, and grow in riotous profusion on unbroken ground. When we first
took the trail I specially noticed a lovely little pale mauve anemone.

There are also many beautiful birds on the prairie, the most striking
being the red-winged blackbird--a very big blackbird with glinting red
feathers on the top of his wings. There was also a robin about twice the
size of his English cousin, and a yellow-breasted bird which sang a very
sweet little song, but never seemed to finish it. There were prairie
chickens of a greyish brown, wild duck and large snipe, and a sort of
water-hen.

The jack-rabbit was a very ubiquitous person, always jumping across the
trail. He is really a hare, greyish-brown in summer and white in winter.
Another local inhabitant who made his presence felt was the gopher,
which looks like a cross between a squirrel and a weasel. They make
their holes in the wheel-ruts of the trails, as we found by bumping
violently over their excavations. Badgers adopt the same inconvenient
habit, as we discovered to our cost when shot suddenly to the roof of
the caravan. Fortunately, they are not so common as gophers. The latter
do a great deal of damage to the wheat, so that the farmers are obliged
to poison them and the children are given so much per tail; consequently
I had little compunction in running over one occasionally when it sat up
in the middle of the trail just in front of the wheel. At first I
wondered why these beasties chose the trail for their burrows when they
had all the enormous prairie at their disposal, until it was explained
to me that the hard ground formed a better front door to their holes, as
in soft ground the soil would fall in.

We were interested in watching the farming operations en route. They
were disking and ploughing and sowing, generally driving six horses
abreast. The machines were immensely wide, too large to pass through our
widest gates, and it was a heavy alluvial soil, thus needing much
horse-power. We also saw a large number of motor tractors in use.

All the main trails are bordered with telephone poles, and a red blaze
on these poles indicates the way--_i.e._, an R or an L tells you when to
turn to the right or left. At least, it is supposed to tell you, but as
both letters are usually on the same side of the pole, it is up to you
to guess whether you turn to the right to go to Winnipeg or to Regina.
The matter is further complicated by the letters being made of paper on
some trails, in which case they are generally half torn off.

The trails, like the towns, are laid out in squares. In a town the
avenues run east and west and the streets north and south. On the trail,
when you are running north and south you find a trail running east and
west every two miles; and when you are running east and west you find a
trail going north and south every mile. But this arrangement is
complicated as you draw near to the Arctic Circle, because as the trails
are laid out in squares, these squares grow narrower in this direction
and so an extra trail, called a correction line, is added at intervals.
Also now and again an old Indian trail upsets one's calculations. You
never talk of right and left on the prairie, but always of the points of
the compass, and these points form the first lesson which a child
learns. Yet the actual compass is of no use on these rough roads, as it
gets out of order. One learns to steer by the sun and stars.

It is useless to ask for directions, you will merely be told "Go five
miles north, and three miles east and one mile south and four miles
west, and then look for the elevator at So-and-So. Ye can't miss it."
But you can miss it, very easily. Again, you are often told that a place
is "quite close" and find it to be at least five miles away.

There are no landmarks on these trails, except the elevators in the
towns near the track. The sections are marked by a small heap of stones
at their corners. There is scarcely a fence on the prairie, there being
no stock to speak of and no wood at hand for posts. There are also no
sign-posts or danger signals, and for lack of the latter we had a narrow
escape of finishing our tour before it had well begun. Soon after we
left Winnipeg, running through the main street of a little town, we
suddenly saw a great C.P.R. train cross the road in front of us with no
warning whatever. Had we been a minute or two sooner we must have been
killed. It is no unusual thing for the track to cross the trail, but in
this instance the houses prevented us from seeing the approach of the
train.

Meeting another car was an awkward matter as it meant climbing out of
the ruts and running with one wheel in the gutter. Sometimes, in trying
to avoid a mud hole or something, we ran at such an angle that I only
kept my seat by clinging to the steering-wheel, and how Winifred kept
hers is a mystery. Straw and sand are sometimes thrown into these mud
holes, in a vain endeavour to fill them up. When stuck fast in one it
was little consolation to be told that it was probably an old buffalo
wallow.

This is how Winifred described the trail in one of her letters: "The
road was long, the ruts were deep, the sloughs were lined with mud. The
road was narrow, and on each side those watery sloughs did gleam with
tempting sunset gleams of cherry, pink and gold, a warm, warm glow. They
said 'Oh, guide your car into our gleams and spend the night with us.'"

  CHAPTER VIII

  FROM WINNIPEG TO REGINA

The first night we camped near a farmhouse so as to be able to get
water. We did this whenever it was possible. Going to bed in a caravan
proved to be an acquired art. First we had to put all the camping
equipment, etc., either in front of the driving seat or outside the van
covered over with a waterproof sheet (there was always a very heavy dew
at night); then we let down the mattresses and arranged the bedding.
Next came the difficulty of undressing, there being barely 12 inches
between the mattresses when they were let down. We could not make a
dressing-room of the prairie because we generally camped near a farm,
and anyhow the clarity of the atmosphere and the flat ground made one
visible from a long distance. This first night we sat on our mattresses
and wriggled out of our clothes, there being no room in the van to stand
upright. Afterwards we adopted the plan of going to bed one by one. We
put up the tent for a second room whenever we stayed long enough in a
place to make it worth while. We had been obliged to do this trip
without our sleeping-bags, and so were very cold at night, as the
temperature then falls very low even in the summer. You really need a
sleeping-bag as well as blankets on the prairie. Our excellent health
throughout the tour was probably largely due to our precautions in this
matter. My sleeping-bag had already done much service, having been lent
me by a cousin who had used it on the French and Italian fronts, and my
mosquito net was a loan from a padre who had served at Salonica. This
preserved me from much discomfort and blood-poisoning, as later in the
summer the mosquitoes were very ferocious, especially to us newcomers.

We started on our tour with a due regard for appearances, both of us
armed with travelling looking-glasses. But these soon got smashed in our
bumpy progress, and henceforth we contented ourselves with tidying our
hair from our shadows cast on the ground or our reflections in the
wind-screen, or, Hyacinth-like, gazed fondly into the sloughs.

I turned out first in the morning, as I was going to cook the breakfast,
and found it decidedly cold. When I went to the farm for milk and eggs
the nice woman would not let me pay for them. We found great generosity
wherever we went. We had brought sufficient water from Winnipeg in the
ferrostate flask for tea, but this was too precious to use for washing
up, so we had our first experience of getting water out of a prairie
well. This shortage of water and the expense of boring very deep wells
is one of the farmers' great trials. In certain places you have to go
down forty feet for water. If there is no gasolene engine or windmill it
has to be drawn up with a bucket and rope. This is by no means easy, the
problem being to prevent the bucket from floating empty on the surface
of the water. To avoid this you have to swing the bucket so that it
falls in sideways and fills itself, but if you are not very careful when
drawing it up it will sway violently and spill half the contents. On
this first occasion, having proudly drawn up my water, I essayed to take
it away in our canvas bucket, but not knowing the habits of the latter
it turned over just as I had got it filled. Afterwards I circumvented
it by weighting it with a stone or propping it up.

When at last we were all ready to start, the engine unfortunately
wasn't. I thought that the sparking plugs had probably got damp with the
heavy dew, or had got oily, so I took them out and cleaned them and also
cleaned the carburetter. In the meantime Winifred went off to the
neighbouring town to fetch help from a garage, but they were all too
busy with motor tractors to come. Presently two farm men came and talked
to me and helped to undo screws, but did not seem to know much about a
car. The small boy from the farm saved the situation by his cheerful
chatter. He kept telling me that the radiator was like a letter-box.

At last I got the car to start, and then it went very well. The trail
was very sandy, bordered with coarse grass and prickly scrub, and there
were hills at intervals. The car skidded badly in the sand, and once
swung round broadside on up a bank, and nearly turned over. We had to
cut down some of the thorny bushes in order to get it out without
damaging the headlights. We had not gone much further before the car
stuck in the sand again, going up a hill. Some men came by in a car and
advised me to tighten the gear pedal, which I did. New cars need
continual adjustment at first, of course. When we had done about fifty
miles I thought that the engine smelt hot and found that the fan was not
working, so I screwed up the belt and it was all right for a time. We
passed through several towns that day, and stopped for the night near a
slough, outside Alexandra. For the first time we were hushed to sleep by
the "Canadian Band," as the frog chorus is called.

The next day was Ascension Day, and we hoped to reach some town in time
for a service, but difficulties beset us from the first. I had to get
some gasolene out of the side tanks, and this meant siphoning it, an
exceedingly unpleasant performance, no less than sucking it through a
tube to start the flow. Then the electric starter went wrong, and the
engine was terribly hard to crank, as the starting-handle had not been
used. At last we were off, but the trail was heavy with sand, and the
engine got very hot and presently stuck fast at a hill. I found that the
fan had gone wrong again, and took it down, and while trying to put it
right found that a nut had not been properly adjusted. A man came along
in a car and at once went to my aid. Then two more men came by and also
stopped to help, and when we had adjusted the fan they all three pushed
the van off and we went up the hill.

But our troubles were not over yet. An immense hole, about five feet
deep, yawned across our path as we topped the hill, and there was
nothing for it but to plunge through it and down the hill beyond. The
caravan swayed so violently that I expected every moment that we should
be upset, but it always righted itself just in time, though everything
on the shelves was hurled to the floor--a continual occurrence until we
put up the netting. The sand was so thick here that we got on to a grass
track beside the trail, hoping for better going, but this soon ended,
and we had to bump back on to the trail again. In so doing we stuck fast
in the ditch. By racing the engine I got her out, but we soon stuck fast
again, this time up to our axles in sand. After we had tried in vain for
an hour to get the car out, we gave it up and sat down by the roadside
to read the service for the day in our prayer-books. It was easy to
enter into the spirit of the festival out there on the wide prairie,
with its immense distances and glorious blue sky. We were about thirty
miles from any house.

After a time we started to dig out the wheels with our hands, but just
then two of the men who had helped us before came back along the trail.
"How many more times shall we have to help you two girls out of a hole?"
they cried, and with much good nature proceeded to assist us, until at
last, with reversing and pushing and putting our blankets under the
wheels, we got out. We had to go half a mile back and along another
trail, but at last reached Verdun. We only did twenty-seven miles that
day.

We didn't stick fast anywhere next day, but the trails were very bad,
and we were shaken to pieces. My arms became very stiff with the
vibration from the steering-wheel, and sometimes it was nearly knocked
out of my hands when a front wheel struck big clods. One had to hang on
like grim death. After a time, however, I quite got into the way of
driving in ruts. We stopped for the night at Wapallo, and were just
going to have supper when the vicar came along and saw our van,
whereupon he promptly took us home with him. His wife was most kind to
us, and at once supplied our greatest (and most obvious) need by
inviting us to wash. A real wash is a great treat on the prairie, where
water is so scarce. After supper we went to evensong in the pretty
little prairie church, near which we afterwards camped. We had done
ninety-two miles that day.

Next day, when we stopped at Medicine Hat for gasolene, a man came out
of a store close by, and, seeing the van, introduced himself as the
superintendent of the Anglican Sunday School there. He was most anxious
that we should stop over Sunday, but we thought it best to get to Regina
as soon as possible. As we neared the town we had a narrow escape from a
slough. Going into Regina there was a very bad turn, in negotiating
which the car swung round and one of the front wheels went into a muddy
ditch. By putting on the brake with great force, I managed to stop her
from plunging farther in. I think I was getting a little tired. We had
done 120 miles that day. Winifred went off to find help, but a big motor
lorry came along as I sat waiting with the car, and stopped at once,
seeing I was in difficulties. The driver called out that he would pull
me out if I had a rope. I always carried one, and with its aid he soon
towed me out backwards. When I thanked him he said: "You're Scotch,
aren't you? I was in a hospital in Scotland during the War, and the
nurses were so good to me that I'm glad to help any girls from the Old
Country."

Everyone seemed both pleased and surprised to see us back, though
unfeignedly astonished that one so "green" should have been able to
bring the car through alone. It is 412 miles from Winnipeg to
Regina--farther than from London to Glasgow. Far from being exhausted by
our adventures, we felt braced up by the glorious sunshine and
invigorating air of the prairie, and we did full justice to the feast of
welcome prepared. Folks were interested in the caravan, and various
remarks were made about it. Even to our fond eyes it could not be called
exactly beautiful, but it was rather cruel of Canon X. to observe: "Ah!
a Black Maria, I see."

On the Monday following, while I was in the midst of preparations for
our start that week, Nona Clarke rang me up to say that Aylmer Bosanquet
was very ill, and could I come at once to help to bring her into Regina.
I had about ten minutes in which to catch the train. Helped by kind Mrs.
W., I bundled a few things into a suit-case and ran. But I had to stop
at a drug-store to get some sort of stimulant for Aylmer, as Nona had
said that she seemed on the verge of a collapse. It is in a case like
this that prohibition is so inconvenient. I could get neither brandy nor
sal-volatile without a doctor's certificate--and yet I had often seen
people who did not _look_ ill produce a certificate and get the
stimulant they asked for. "Is there nothing you can give me?" I asked in
desperation, and the shopman handed me some kind of ammonia, saying that
was the only thing he could let me have. The bottle bore no directions,
and when I asked how one should take it, and whether the dose would be
about the same as sal-volatile, he replied indifferently: "Oh, yes, I
think so."

I just caught the train, which then steamed out of the station and
waited an hour at North Regina.

I found Aylmer very ill indeed, hardly able to speak, and without any of
those little comforts which mean so much in sickness. The shack was all
in disorder, too, as they were packing up to go on the prairie in the
Ford roadster. Although she was so weak and ill she was full of interest
in our work, and made me describe the journey from Winnipeg, but I soon
saw that conversation was too much for her. Nona telephoned to a doctor
in Regina, asking him to come out next day to see if the patient were
fit to travel, in which case he was to accompany her back by the next
train.

All that night a dust storm raged, succeeded next morning by torrential
rain. I went out to get milk and bread for breakfast, buying the latter
from the Christian Chinaman, who inquired anxiously for Aylmer, and
said, when I wished to pay for my purchase, "Eef it ees for de
missionarees you need not pay." Then there was the problem of how to get
the invalid to the station, as the shack was by this time surrounded
with a sea of black mud which no car could traverse. But Nona found a
man with a dray who promised to come if needed. The doctor's train was
so late that there was only a quarter of an hour between his arrival and
the departure of the return train. But he made a hasty examination, and
said that though she was very weak it would be better to take her into
Regina. It is so difficult to get nurses or medical attendance out on
the prairie.[4]

I dressed her with difficulty, and she lay on the bed while we all
combined to lift it bodily on to the dray. But the rain and wind were
still so strong that Nona had to kneel beside the bed holding on fast to
the rugs, while I held an umbrella over Aylmer's head. It was pathetic
to see the people waving good-bye from their houses as she passed, for
though they did not guess how ill she was, they knew that she was
leaving them, perhaps for ever. Arrived at Regina, we took her to the
Grey Nuns' hospital.

I had now only three days in which to complete our preparations if we
were to start on the date fixed, which it was necessary to do if we were
to fulfil our engagements. I went to see Aylmer as often as I could, and
of course drove the caravan up to the hospital for her to see from her
window. It grieved me very much (apart from my anxiety about her
illness) to think that she could now take no part in this adventure, the
idea of which was all her own. Indeed, this was to prove her only
glimpse of our van, in the details of which she would have revelled, for
before we returned from the prairie she had been ordered to British
Columbia and then on to California. I never saw her again.

[Footnote 4: See Appendix II.]

  CHAPTER IX

  SANDSTORMS AND SUNDAY SCHOOLS

We had arranged to start on Friday, May 21, and the day dawned
beautifully fine. I fetched the caravan round to the parish hall, where
our things were stored, and we loaded up. This was no easy task, for
unless you did it very carefully you could not get everything in. The
packages reached from floor to roof now that we were fully equipped.
Whilst we were busily engaged in this task we did not notice that the
weather had changed, but presently a great wind arose, and then an
ominous darkness blotted out the sun. We knew that that horror of
horrors, a fierce dust storm, was raging. It was a veritable blackness
that might be felt; and when we went to say good-bye to some Regina
friends they begged us not to start. One of them travelled for a firm,
and he assured us that no commercial traveller would venture out in such
a storm. It was bound to get worse and worse, he said, and he did his
best to dissuade us. But I had arranged to get to Buffalo Lake by
Sunday, and I had already been obliged to alter the date once owing to
the delay in getting the caravan, so I felt that I could not put them
off any more. If one delays for difficulties one will never do anything.
So we started.

The wind whipped and whistled around the caravan, and blew the earth in
great clouds over us, and formed huge drifts on the trail, which made
the car skid as on loose sand. It was distressing to remember that this
earth was full of newly-sown wheat. It was hard enough to see the way
when we started, though Winifred held the map and directed me; but after
sunset it was impossible to go on, as the headlights could not penetrate
the dense clouds of dust. However, we had gone a good distance, and
therefore decided to camp. Meanwhile our late host, at the urgent
instigation of his wife, was searching the trail for our mangled
remains.

The next morning was fine, and we started early; but quite soon we
struck sand, and after the storm of the day before it lay in drifts. I
tried to rush through at full speed, but with a tremendous skid the car
lurched sideways and stuck fast in a drift. We got out, and tried to
jack it up in order to wind rope round a wheel, as I had been told that
Parsons' chains are useless in sand. To crown our misery the wind now
began to blow hard, and we were almost blinded by the flying sand, which
stung our eyes cruelly. In the dust-storm of the previous day we were
spared this torture by the wind-screen and side-doors being kept shut.
But help was at hand. One after another six men in all stopped their
cars and came to our assistance. It was easier for them to get through
the sand-drifts than for us because their cars were so much lighter,
although a good deal of the caravan was made of a kind of stout
beaver-boarding to save weight, but this was counteracted by our camping
equipment, etc.

Our helpers pulled us out with great difficulty, and we continued on our
way through Moose Jaw. Towards evening we sighted Buffalo Lake church
and steered for it, expecting that the vicarage would be near by. But
before we reached it, in trying to negotiate a mud hole, we stuck fast
once more. A farmer ploughing near came to our aid, and fastened his
team to our rope. One of the trials of a mud hole was that when you got
out to adjust the rope, etc., your boots became thickly coated with
sticky mud, so that you could scarcely work your gear pedal. It was also
exceedingly difficult to drive the car close at the heels of restive
horses. They hated the noise of the engine, and were all ready to kick;
and when the car reached firm ground it rushed forward almost on to the
horses, and was only stopped by jamming on the brakes.

Thanks to this timely aid we reached our goal in good time to make camp.
But the wind was still blowing strong, and as I was cooking on the
Primus it suddenly burst into flames. Thinking the caravan in danger,
Winifred hastily threw earth on it--which put an effectual end to my
culinary efforts for that night. We made a fair meal on the food we had
with us, and just as we had finished a buggy came along with the vicar
and his family. They had been shopping in the neighbouring town. From
the van he guessed our identity, and came up to ask how we had managed
our cooking in this wind. We tactfully evaded this point, and assured
him that we had made a good meal. But we were not sorry when he said
that next day we must have meals at the vicarage.

The next day was Whit Sunday, and we were very glad to be where we could
have an early Celebration. So widely scattered is the population that
there was only one other worshipper besides ourselves. After breakfast
the vicar was going to take duty at a place about five miles away, so I
offered to drive him in the caravan as there was another dust storm
blowing up and he had nothing but an open buggy. As he was the first
vicar I had driven I determined not to disgrace myself by sticking on
the trail, and so went full tilt all the way and successfully ploughed
through the drifts. We skidded and swayed a good deal, but my passenger
seemed thoroughly to enjoy it. When we arrived, however, we found that
none of the congregation had cared to face the storm; we therefore did a
little visiting and returned home.

There was a regular weekly Sunday School here in which two of the
parents taught. It was brilliantly fine in the afternoon and the
children and their parents were all able to come. Car after car drove
up, until there was a long line of them. The children were most
beautifully dressed, with dainty white frocks and pretty hats. The
parents and the elder boys and girls were also extremely well turned
out. Indeed, it is one of the most striking features of prairie life
that, with all their heavy manual work, the people dress well when not
engaged in actual toil--a fine example of personal self-respect.

It was delightful to see this school, conducted by two of the mothers.
We longed to give professional assistance but hesitated to offer it, as
of course the idea of constructive criticism and demonstration lessons
was quite foreign to them. But an opportunity for the latter presented
itself when we gave round "Hope of the World" postcards and the children
began to ask questions about them, whereupon the mothers appealed to me
to give the explanation.

After the school there was a Family Service (characteristic of the
prairie) at which all are present, from the father to the infant in
arms. There were a great many baptisms, which made one think of
Whitsuntide in the early Church. A delightful feature of the service was
the freedom with which the children ran out to play when tired. I could
see them from the window jumping in and out of the cars. But when they
had worked off their superfluous energy they came back quietly to their
places.

After the service we were introduced to all the people, and one young
man remarked: "We thought your car was a motor ambulance and supposed
there'd been a scrap."

The fervour of these people, and their evident appreciation of the
services of the Church, made a strong impression on me. It was shown by
their coming long distances--twenty miles in some cases--after working
very hard for very long hours all the week.

In the evening I drove the vicar to another church for evensong. It was
coated so thickly with dust from the storm of the morning that we had to
clean it down before a service could be held.

Next morning the vicar showed us his stable, and we photographed his
special pride, a handsome colt which he had broken himself. We had had a
most delightful week-end, and were much cheered by our kind reception
from the vicar and his wife, and felt quite weak with laughter at the
former's amusing stories.

In the afternoon we started for Eyebrow, but did not get very far that
day, as we stuck in the mud and had to wait to be pulled out. We arrived
at Eyebrow next day, however, and went to see the layman in charge of
the mission. It had not been possible as yet to arrange for us to visit
any schools, so we decided to go on and spend some time here on our
return journey. They entertained us most hospitably to supper, and
allowed us to put our baggage in the church porch as it was raining in
torrents. We next made a two days' journey on to Riverhurst, and on
arrival went into a Chinaman's restaurant for supper. The food in these
restaurants is both good and cheap. A three-course dinner costs only
about one and eightpence in English money. As we were comfortably eating
our supper we were surprised and rather alarmed to see a district
policeman making straight for us. He put us through a searching
catechism. Who were we and where did we come from? A brother officer had
seen us and put him on our trail. We told him who we were and whose
authority was behind us, and after a few more questions he seemed
satisfied and left us to finish our supper in peace. We longed to know
what crimes he had mentally charged us with.

We found that there was a Union Sunday school at Riverhurst which all
the children attended, including the only Anglican children in the
place, four in number. It seemed hopeless to try to start a Sunday
School for these four, so we noted them for enrolment in the Sunday
School by Post, and went on towards Elbow.

We started in a dust storm, the unpleasantness of which custom cannot
stale. I took some photographs of it, however. Presently we thought that
we must have taken the wrong trail to Elbow, and so tried to turn on
what looked like firm grass, but the ground was soft underneath, and the
heavily-weighted car stuck fast, sinking in up to the axles. It was far
away from any sign of human habitation, and the recommendation of Dr.
Smiles seemed the only solution. So I started to dig out a wheel.
Suddenly a boy on a horse appeared as if by magic, and asked if we
wanted help, saying that he would go back to his father's farm for
horses, which sure enough he did, and handled them manfully. He fastened
his team to our rope, and I got into the car and started the engine.
Then followed the usual breathless moment when the car charged forward
on to the horses' heels. The boy then directed us to take a certain
trail, and after his recent display of prowess we naturally followed his
advice. But we soon found ourselves going up a very steep and narrow
track with a bank on one side and a sheer drop into a ravine on the
other, and with literally not an inch to spare on either side. On the
steepest part of this road the car stopped dead, and I had to keep my
foot hard down on the foot brake to prevent it slipping backwards. There
was nothing for it but to unload the heaviest things, and I could not
get out to help, as the car would then have run back. Winifred opened
the back doors so that I could see behind me, and I managed to get
safely down to the bottom of the hill, though it was exceedingly
difficult to back round the sharp corners. I then put on full speed and
rushed the car up, and at the top we loaded her again, thinking that the
worst was over. But as we went on we found the road was as narrow as
ever, with a very bad surface, big stones cropping out here and there. I
was driving, with one wheel low down in a rut and the other high up,
when the car again stopped at a steep bit, and I had to jam on the
brakes as before whilst Winifred unloaded. But when I tried to release
the brakes I found that the hand brake had jammed, and I could not get
out and hammer it free as the van would have run backwards when I
shifted it. At this crisis two men came along and helped us, and between
us we put the brake right and got the car to the top of the hill. This
was the only bad hill we had found and the only stony road. We
discovered afterwards that it was not the right trail for Elbow. The
town is so named because the Saskatchewan River runs in a elbow-like
curve through the ravine at the bottom of this hill, on the crest of
which the town is built.

We went on beyond Elbow to Loreburn, and camped near the vicarage for
the night. The vicar and his wife had only just arrived in the parish,
with a little baby of a month old. She looked hardly fit to cope with
all there was to do, but they insisted that we should come in to meals
with them. I was the more grateful for this as I had had a difference of
opinion with the spirit lamp, which blew up in my face and nearly
blinded me.

This was the first occasion on which we used the tent, and its erection
was something of a puzzle, as we had no sketch of the finished article,
and had never seen it in action. But by the time I had it all laid out,
and was wondering how I should put it up without help (Winifred having
gone to the vicarage), some boys appeared, and said that they knew all
about tents, and helped me splendidly. There was no difficulty about
finding the children at our stopping places, for the caravan drew them
like a magnet. We reversed Froebel's injunction--"Come let us live with
our children"--for the children invariably came and lived with us. On
occasions their company was so persistent as to be rather embarrassing.
One never knew at what moment the tent would be invaded by eager
visitors. They were most delightful children, extraordinarily
intelligent and full of practical wisdom. It was truly a case of
"development by self-activity." They freely offered assistance and
advice when they saw we were in need of either. It was a five-year-old
girl who noticed one evening that I had laid the potatoes outside the
caravan, and thoughtfully warned me: "I shouldn't leave those potatoes
out all night if I were you; the gophers will eat them."

[Illustration: DIGGING OUT THE WHEEL]

[Illustration: THE TENT, AND MY ASSISTANTS AT LOREBURN]

  _To face p. 48_

[Illustration: 1. & 2. HOUSEHOLD TASKS (see page 54)]

[Illustration: 3. MR. M. AND HIS MOTOR CYCLE ON THE RAILWAY TRACK
  (see page 63)]

On that first night at Loreburn we had torrents of rain, and next
morning the trails were deep in mud. But I had promised to drive the
vicar into Elbow, as he had no buggy as yet. We skidded violently from
side to side of the road all the way, and had more than one narrow
escape from a slough--I had horrid visions of a congregation waiting
indefinitely for a vicar hopelessly submerged. I put on the Parsons'
chains before making the return journey. This is a job one willingly
defers till it is unavoidable.

Despite the weather there were many people at church, so I was glad that
I had made the effort. These prairie services really were an
inspiration. In the afternoon I superintended the Sunday school, which
consisted as usual of children from six to sixteen. Winifred and I
divided the children into two classes, and the vicar and a teacher
listened to our teaching. The greatest difficulty, here as elsewhere,
was the grading of hymns and prayers. The best way seemed to be to open
with devotions suitable to the infants and then to let them go off to
another part of the church for their lesson while we had other prayers
and hymns for the elder ones, closing the school in a similar manner;
but if this made the session too long, we began with devotions suited to
the younger children and closed with those more suited to the elder.

After school there was the usual family service, at which I specially
noticed how well the organist played. We were afterwards invited to
supper with him and his wife, and were interested to find that they
used to live at Leeds and had sung at Morecambe Musical Festival.
Canadian meals are delicious, and we had a sumptuous supper--bacon and
eggs, layer cake and stewed fruit, and strong tea, very acceptable after
our sketchy caravan meals. After supper we had some good music, and the
organist told us some of his experiences as a prairie choir-master. His
choir showed talent, so he felt that they were capable of chanting the
psalms, and trained them to do so. He kept this as a pleasant surprise
for the congregation, and felt very proud of his pupils when they duly
acquitted themselves well. But the real surprise was his. Next day most
of the congregation waited upon him in a body and stated that they would
not attend church in future if such High Church practices were followed.

We had obtained permission from the trustees of the public school at
Loreburn to give religious instruction in school hours, as it was more
convenient for us. I took the upper division, children of twelve to
eighteen, and Winifred took the lower form, children of six to twelve,
it being a two-roomed school. (In these prairie schools the scholars
stay from six to eighteen.) The teachers were very nice. They showed
interest in our work and listened to our lessons. As I could give them
only one lesson, I wanted it to be one of permanent value, sufficiently
connected with their everyday experience to recur frequently to their
minds, so I spoke on the Union Jack, which floats over almost all of
these little schools. I began with the splendid work of Canada in the
War, and referred to the men of the widespread British Empire all united
under one flag, thus leading on to the unity of Christian soldiers and
telling the stories of the three saints whose crosses unite in the
British flag. (A further bond of empire now is the photograph of the
Prince of Wales, which is found everywhere in this neighbourhood since
his visit to Regina.)

After the lesson we gave each child a prayer card and a picture of the
"Hope of the World" or "The New Epiphany." It was very distressing to
find that only two or three of the thirty children present knew the
Lord's Prayer. Apropos of this a clergyman's wife told me how she had
asked a child, "Do you know _Our Father_?" and the child answered, "No,
but I know our grandfather."

The children seemed to hang on our words, listening with intense
eagerness to the lessons. "They listen to lessons here in this country
that they would never dream of attending to in the Old Country,"
Winifred wrote home. "One has no fear here of possibilities of
naughtiness either. They are good without being disciplined, not
restless like the children at home."

The intense hunger for knowledge holds these sturdy, open-air little
people in a trance of breathless interest. It was their desire rather
than our skill which exercised the spell, as we knew well.

  CHAPTER X

  ADVENTURES AND MISADVENTURES

It rained hard all next day, so I spent the time in making some things
for the caravan; in particular, a wire cage for the electric bulb, which
was always being knocked against and broken. One could never start
directly the rain ceased, the trails were too bad, and when we did take
the road on the following day we found a sea of mud. On the second day
we arrived at Outlook, and camped above the ferry. There was no resident
clergyman here, but a local lady did what she could for the spiritual
needs of the children, holding a very successful Sunday School in the
church, where she had arranged a beautiful "Children's Corner." A few
suitable pictures and simple printed prayers were pinned on the wall
within easy reach of kneeling children. They are encouraged to make this
spot their special oratory. This particular "Corner" was arranged near
the font, which seemed a specially suitable place for it. Unfortunately,
we were unable to meet this lady, as she was ill, but we went to see the
lay reader who took the services on Sunday.

After we had camped that night a young girl came to talk to us. She
explained that she was very unhappy and unsettled with regard to
religion. She had gone to the "Pentecostals," poor child, because she
was deaf, and could hear their loud declamations; but she had received
no sort of help from them. Her parents belonged to the Church of
England, but since they had been in Canada the younger children had not
been baptized. Presently the girl's mother joined us, and we made
friends at once and had "a good crack" when we each found that the other
came from Cumberland. She told me that she had been brought up a
Baptist, but had joined the Church of England. I urged her to prepare
her children for baptism herself, and have them baptized at the earliest
opportunity. This she promised to do.

Next day we had to cross the Saskatchewan River, no easy task from all
accounts. We had been regaled with hair-raising stories of how a man
drove his car too fast down the pier to the ferry boat, which had not
been linked up, and the car plunged into the river and was never seen
again. The same fate overtook a man who fell out of his boat when
mending the ferry cable. I was not quite at my best for this particular
undertaking, as I had one eye badly swollen from a mosquito bite through
forgetting to put on my net when sitting down to write a letter. There
were three ways of getting down the river bank to the ferry pier. One
road zig-zagged so sharply that the long caravan could not turn at the
bend, and the paling just there was so frail that had we run into it we
must have broken through and gone down a bank. The other road was strewn
with huge stones, so I eschewed roads altogether, and went down the
rough grass bank, swaying and bumping and almost overturning, but it
seemed the least perilous passage. I took the car down while Winifred
was on in front, looking for a better road, as there was no reason why
we should both be upset. A narrow road led on to the pier, which was a
long wooden structure built over the sand and mud of the river's edge.
The ferry, a wooden barge worked by a cable, was moored to the end of
it, and I drove on to it cautiously. The men working the ferry were
three Englishmen, who had served with the Canadian contingent, and they
hailed the van delightedly as a long-lost friend, at first thinking it
was an old motor ambulance from France. We took photos of them,
whereupon they begged that we would not exhibit them as "specimens of
the white heathen we met out there." "I felt indeed that we must look
missionaries of the fiercest type," was Winifred's comment on this
incident.

There was only one trail to Bounty, our next destination, so when we
came suddenly on a dreadful hole right across the path, with a bank on
either side of the road, there was nothing for it but to go on. I tried
to rush across, and suddenly felt an awful concussion. I was flung up
against the roof of the van and saw stars for the moment, but somehow or
other we got across. Then I went round to see what damage was done to
our baggage, etc., and found that a three-gallon tin of coal oil had
been flung up and had come down upside down. There it was, standing on
its cork. I next examined the engine, which seemed very odd. The gear
pedal had gone wrong and everything was crooked. Then I saw that the
bonnet was not fitting. I lifted it up and found that the whole engine
was two or three inches out of the straight. I saw that I could not put
things right myself, and so determined to try to reach the town.
Meanwhile, in this as in other mishaps, Winifred helped me enormously by
sitting calmly on the bank reading a novel. She never fussed or made
worrying exclamations, or hindered me by offering useless suggestions or
unwanted assistance. She never complained, either, under the most trying
circumstances, or made the slightest sound in those wild moments when we
were nearly thrown out of the van by the roughness of the road.

We were five miles from Bounty, but I found that I could get along on
low gear. A few miles farther on we came to another bad place, where the
conduit had fallen in, but we managed to crawl through somehow. I was
thankful to find a big garage at Bounty, with an efficient mechanic. He
and I examined the car and found that the frame was sprung three inches
on either side. He said that the body would have to be slung up and the
engine taken out and a new frame put in, and that this would take a week
to do. So we unloaded the van by the church, and took out the mattresses
also for use in the tent, and then left the poor invalid at the garage.

There are garages in every prairie town, even in what we should call
little villages, for in Saskatchewan there is a car for every two
people. These garages are well fitted up, and have all the latest
inventions. Outside all of them there is a petrol pump and a "Free Air"
cable for the convenience of passers-by. The latter has a gasolene
engine which pumps up the air, so that you can fill your tyres in a
second. No one thinks of using a hand-pump unless he has a burst right
out on the prairie.

We lived in the tent this week, with most of our baggage stored in the
church porch. As usual, the children helped us to arrange our things. I
had quite a holiday, with the caravan off my hands, but Winifred's
duties went on as usual. We had apportioned the work as follows: she was
to keep the interior of the van clean and do all the washing-up, whilst
I drove, cleaned the engine, did repairs, etc., and cooked. Winifred's
job was no sinecure. She hardly ever had much water for washing-up, so
she used to clean the horrid greasy dishes and things with paper and
then rinse them; and though I sometimes nearly threw her out of the van,
she in turn sometimes kept me out of it when she was having a thorough
clean up--a necessary evil after a muddy day or a dust-storm.

I wanted to telephone to Mr. W. at Regina, as he was holding my
insurance policy for the car, so I asked permission to do so from a
resident who had already greatly befriended us. When 'phoning I found it
very difficult to hear what Mr. W. said; it seemed as if all the
receivers were open. I was further distracted by hearing the owner of
the telephone remark to Winifred, as she gazed at my back, "Eh! isn't
she fat?" as who should say, "No wonder the frame was sprung!"

Next morning I walked to Conquest (six miles away) to interview the
secretary of the Municipal Council, as the inhabitants of Bounty thought
that the hole should have been attended to, and advised me to claim
damages. I failed to get any compensation, but Bounty benefited from our
misfortune, as the hole was immediately filled up. Calling at the
Conquest post-office for letters, the old postman remarked to me, "I
have heard all about your accident. You girls, you drive too fast." It
seemed that the entire district knew all the details, even to the cost
of the repairs. I now remembered having heard that a favourite winter
amusement on the prairie was to take down your receiver and listen to
the conversations along the line. Report said that a certain courtship
had in this way provided entertainment for the whole neighbourhood.

  CHAPTER XI

  SOME ASPECTS OF PRAIRIE LIFE

It was unfortunate that there was no Anglican Sunday School in this
place, where we had perforce to spend a week. There were very few
Anglicans there at all, but a great many Presbyterians and
Nonconformists, who united to form a Union church and Sunday School.
There was a very nice Anglican church, but most of the congregation
lived at farms some distance away, coming in for Sunday services, when
the vicar also came in from one of his other districts. He came to see
us on the Saturday night, and explained that on the morrow there would
be a United Family Service in the Anglican church, to which he was
inviting all the members of the Union church. He asked us to write out
and fix up notices about it. He also asked if we would give an address
after the service on the need for religious instruction for the
children.

Sunday was a very hot day, and with sinking hearts we realised that the
congregation would be arrayed in lovely summer clothes, and that it was
up to us not to discredit the Old Country. But it is difficult to look
one's best when caravanning, and even one of Paquin's frocks would lose
its bloom in a cotton bag, and the smartest hat would look dashed after
the three-gallon oil tin had collided with it. Personally, I felt that
my bravest efforts would be futile since Winifred's remark as we arose
that morning: "Let me look and see if you are as much a fright as you
were yesterday." When your nose and one eye have been entirely
remodelled by a mosquito bite you do not look your best, nor can you be
quite unselfconscious in public, and, alas! _I_ should have to give that
address, for Winifred had flatly refused.

Patience is required when attending prairie meetings. What with the
immense distances, varying clocks, and unexpected obstacles on the
trails it is difficult to get anywhere to time. In this case we waited
an hour for the organist, whose car had stuck in a mud hole. Winifred
rose to the occasion, and was just making her way to the organ when the
belated car was heard and the big bronzed young farmer hurried in.

The elders of the Union church preceded the vicar and his churchwardens
up the aisle. The service was a shortened form of evensong, interspersed
with many hymns. The sermon was a clear but non-controversial exposition
of the Apostles' Creed. It was remarkable to notice how the preacher
held the attention of all present, from the child of five to the old
lady with grey curls. One hoped that this united worship might pave the
way for union on Christian essentials, so that Christian teaching might
be agreed upon for the schools and a united stand made against
materialism and the many so-called Christian sects.

After service I was called upon to address the congregation. I had to
speak from before the altar rails, there being no other place from which
to command the congregation, except the pulpit, which I did not wish to
occupy. As there had been a fairly long service, and the church was very
full and very hot, I thought that a ten minutes' address would be
sufficient. So I spoke briefly on the importance of religious education,
leading up from the wonderful way in which Canadians had helped in the
War, to the need for their help in warfare against evil. Christian
soldiers must be trained, and a young country needs a Christian
foundation. It is extraordinarily easy to hold the attention of a
prairie congregation, and I was told afterward that they wished I had
gone on longer. It is indeed a preacher's paradise.

The vicar had to leave at once for his next service. He motored about
eighty miles each Sunday and took four services. But the rest of us held
a kind of social gathering outside the church, where we had
opportunities of studying the prairie fashions. Most of these gorgeous
garments are ordered by post from Timothy Eaton's store in Toronto. His
enormous illustrated catalogue is sent yearly to every house, and is
commonly called "The Prairie Bible." The children know it by heart, and
amuse themselves on winter evenings by cutting out and colouring the
fashion plates, with the embarrassing result that when they see a
neighbour in her new spring costume they remark, "Oh, Mrs. So-and-So's
new hat is on page 603, price so many dollars."

We had a washing-day on the Monday. When near a farm they allowed us to
take our blouses, etc., and wash them with their apparatus, as the
Chinks, who did our heavy washing, ruined the finer things.

On the Tuesday we went to Swanson by train (the trains only ran on
certain days in the week). This had been one of the centres of the
Railway Mission, and was worked with Birdview, but they had had no
services for about a year, owing to the scarcity of clergy, and they
felt the privation very much. The Railway Mission had now come to an
end, and there were no clergy to supply these districts. We went to see
the leading church people, with a view to taking Swanson on our return
journey if it seemed possible to start a Sunday School there. We were
told that there was no Sunday School of any kind thereabouts, and were
advised to go to the day school and beat up recruits, which we did with
great success. A farmer's wife promised to gather the people together
for us when we came again, so that we could hold a demonstration school
and a parents' meeting.

We wished to visit Birdview, but no train ran there that day. Our
friend Mrs. T., however, said that her son should drive us in a car. A
terrible sandstorm blew up, and we were almost blinded in the open car.
We realised once more the advantage of a caravan. Great drifts of sand
lay on the trail, and the car skidded from side to side, but we got
there. Mrs. T. had arranged by telephone that we were to stay the night
with a storekeeper and his wife. There were not many church people in
Birdview, so I wanted to go out to a little mission church in the centre
of outlying farms which used to be worked by the Railway Mission. The
only way to get there was by car, and the storekeeper thought that no
hired car would face the storm. But, happily, the wind dropped and the
sand subsided, and we found a car to take us. So the storekeeper's wife
and I started off.

We were now in one of the "dried out" areas. There are certain belts of
land in Saskatchewan which, when first taken up, nearly twenty years
ago, proved very fertile. But over-cultivation, though advised by the
Board of Agriculture in order to conserve the moisture, had rendered the
soil so fine that most of it had blown away. It had been of no great
depth to start with, and the sand below it had come to the surface, and
now blew in great drifts. As the wheat came up, the flying clouds of
sand cut it down, and even buried the scrub. Little vegetation was
visible, and what wheat there was the grasshoppers devoured. They were
enormous things, 3 inches long. They flew into the car with a great
"plop," and even jumped down my clothes. The farmers hereabouts were
ruined, and nobody would take their farms. They had not sufficient
capital to start again. Yet with all this they kept up their courage and
hoped for better days.

When we reached the little church we stuck fast in a big drift, but I
took the wheel while the man pushed, and at last we got out. We went on
to the leading farmer's, where they welcomed us warmly. They had had no
services there for a very long time. I explained that we should like to
visit the place on our way back if they would collect the people to meet
us. The farmer's wife expressed great delight at the idea. They had
been so long without a clergyman, and had so much appreciated services
when they had them. She found it very difficult, she said, to keep
Sunday when there was nothing to remind her of the day. They felt their
spiritual privation, especially now that their material troubles were so
great.

I noticed here, as in many other places, an almost conscience-stricken
look on the parents' faces when I mentioned the necessity of religious
instruction for the children. It was not that they did not wish their
children to be taught religious truths, but that they themselves were so
cruelly overworked that they had no time for the care and forethought
which the preparation of a lesson entails. When you work all the week
from 5 a.m. to 10 or 11 p.m. you are exceedingly tired on Sunday; and
yet there is still some necessary work to be done if you live on a farm.
But give these parents some idea of how and what to teach, with a
suitable book to follow and pictures to illustrate the subjects, and
they will do their very best, often making most excellent teachers. It
is in places like this that the Sunday School by Post helps so greatly,
especially in winter, when the children cannot attend a Sunday school at
a distance.

We returned to Birdview that night (sticking again in the sand-drift on
the way). Our kind host and hostess refused to let us pay for our
entertainment. We were continually receiving most generous hospitality
all the time we were on the prairie. We were never allowed to pay for
our milk and eggs at a farm, and we were invited to many meals, which
greatly helped our resources. We hardly liked to accept so much, knowing
as we did how badly off the farmers sometimes were. But we knew how hurt
they would have been had we refused. Their generosity was a great lesson
in almsgiving. They always treat all missionaries in this way.

We took the train to Conquest, and then had to walk to Bounty, a very
tiring six miles on the rough trail with the wind against us.
Unfortunately no car overtook us, for it is the invariable custom to
give pedestrians a lift. We went at once to the place where we had left
our tent, but no tent was to be seen. We inquired about it at a
neighbouring house, and a nice old man told us that the storm of the
previous night had smashed the pole and ripped up the canvas, whereupon
he had rescued it, otherwise it would now have been miles and miles away
across the prairie. We felt thankful that we had had a house over our
heads when this happened.

We were now homeless, tent and caravan both _hors de combat_. Many kind