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