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 2-1/2 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.]