FURTHER PRAIRIE SKETCHES
We had come to Coleville at the special invitation of Mr. H., the
clergyman in charge of the district. It seemed strange to meet out here,
he being the son of the late vicar of my parish at home. We had promised
to spend a week in his district, and he had planned out a full programme
for us. On the Monday we gave an address in Coleville school (during
school hours), and then went on to Victory school. This school-house was
a mile and a half from any other house, and many miles from a town. All
around were wide stretches of unbroken prairie, with a few farms here
and there. The prairie was covered with flowers of all colours--the
wild, blue flax, flame-coloured mallows, many-hued vetches, and a lovely
deep pink low growing wild rose with a very sweet perfume, and a small
anousa of turquoise blue.
A Maple Leaf teacher was in charge of this little one-roomed school--a
very pretty girl. She was delighted to see anyone out from England.
After school was over the children brought round the teacher's horse,
and then they all mounted and galloped away in a picturesque cavalcade.
Most of them lived about four miles off.
We went on to Smilie in the evening, where I gave an address to parents
and children. While I was buying gasolene next morning, a man came into
the garage, and, seeing the name on the van, began a conversation with
us. He _was_ glad that someone was going round to teach the children, he
said. He had been taught the Bible when he was young, but nowadays
people knew nothing about it. Why, only the other day he had asked a
workman if he knew what building it was which had been raised without
sound of axe or hammer, and he actually didn't know! It was _quite_ time
the children were taught the Bible.
We had no housekeeping cares in this district, as Mr. H. had arranged
for nearly all our meals to be provided. So generous, indeed, were the
folk of this neighbourhood that all our gasolene was sold to us at
half-price. On the Tuesday we went out to a prairie school where they
were having holidays. But our visit had been announced, and the children
drove in to have a Bible lesson, holiday time though it was. Moreover,
after Winifred had given them an hour's lesson the class still refused
to disperse.
Out here I saw the first flock of sheep which I had found on the
prairie. We had dinner with the owner, an old Welsh farmer, and his
wife. He remarked that he was very glad that we were going round to
teach the children, and when I asked why, he replied that the young
people now growing up hadn't been taught the Bible as he and his wife
had been taught it at home in Wales, adding gloomily: "Half the motor
cars you see in the town on a Saturday evening haven't been paid for.
It's time somebody went round to teach them something."
He did not usually attend any meetings, it seemed, but we had evidently
made a good impression, for, to everybody's surprise, he turned up in
the evening at my address to parents. We had a special Welsh hymn in his
honour. This meeting, as was often inevitable, was an hour late in
beginning. Those who arrived first telephoned to the rest to know if
they had started. It was rather like a Derby day, Mr. H., on the top of
the caravan, announcing from time to time who was first in the field.
While we were waiting, a good many young men were introduced with the
usual formula, "Meet Mr. So-and-So, one of our bachelors," and etiquette
obliged us to reply, "Pleased to meet you."
Next morning we went out to Travet Park school, miles away across the
unbroken prairie. We should never have found our way had not Mr. H.
accompanied us. It was pleasant to miss the telephone poles and see
countless flowers instead. We never passed a farm all the way, and we
could hardly see the trail. At Travet Park the teacher told us that she
had started a Sunday School on Fridays after school hours, but very much
wanted help with books. The children here listened with breathless
attention to the lesson we gave them. It was most encouraging to find
both teacher and children so keen. We had dinner at a farm, and
afterwards I took the van to collect people for the parents'
meeting--among others, a young mother with her tiny baby, and an old
lady with a broad Cockney accent and a bonnet trimmed with black
cherries, some of which were jolted off in the van and remained with us
as trophies. It was a real cross-country run. We were actually _told_ to
drive over the wheat. Then we came to a ditch which we crashed into and
out again, and then over a large badger's hole. By the time we arrived
at the school I felt that all ideas had been jerked out of my head. But
the meeting began with a hymn, and then Winifred said a few words, and
by that time I had collected my scattered wits.
Next day we had a puncture far out on the prairie--our first
misadventure of the kind. I had no spare wheel, and this entailed a hot
job in the broiling sun. At last we arrived at the farm where we were
taking Mr. H. to baptize two children--a child of three and an infant in
arms. The father was ploughing, but he left his horses and came in for
the baptism.
We then went on to Kindersley, where Mr. W. was in charge. We had done
130 miles in Mr. H.'s parish. Mr. W. kindly gave us a special
Celebration next morning, as Mr. H., who was still in deacon's orders,
was never able to have one. He then returned to his district.
We spent a week at Kindersley. The Women's Auxiliary had arranged to
give us dinner and supper every day in different people's houses
throughout our visit, and others brought us milk and eggs for breakfast.
We met many thoughtful and interesting people here, some of whom had
been early settlers. While entertaining us, they told us stories of
these early days. The settler and his wife used to trek fifty miles in
an ox-wagon to the bit of land he had bought. There they lived in a tent
until he could build a sod shack. The wife would perhaps have to go
twenty miles to the nearest slough to wash her clothes, and sixty miles
for stores, letters, etc. Probably there would not be another woman for
miles around. In time a solid wooden shack replaced the sod building,
and the farm slowly acquired all the latest modern appliances. Then
motor-cars linked the isolated farms together, and with the coming of
the railway little towns sprang up here and there. These tales of quiet
heroism filled me with great admiration.
On the Saturday the president of the Women's Auxiliary invited us to
meet all the members at a tea-party, and asked me to give a description
of our aims and objects. They seemed interested, and thought it was a
work which the W.A. might support. On the Sunday we had an early
Celebration, and, after breakfast, started off for Avonhill, some
sixteen miles away in Mr. H.'s district, which we had been unable to
visit on the previous Sunday. We went along a road with sloughs on
either side until we found a slough right across the trail. So I had to
reverse on this narrow road for about a quarter of a mile, and then had
to cut across the prairie; this made us an hour late in arriving. We
held a service for parents and teachers and children, and left them some
books. Although we were invited to dinner, there was no time to stop for
any, and we got back to Kindersley just in time for the Sunday School at
2.30.
On the Tuesday I held a study circle in the church for adults (by
request). It was on "Prayer and the Prayer Book." Among the members was
a "Dunkard," a sect which combines the tenets of the Quaker and the
Plymouth Brother. This woman had a most spiritual and beautiful face.
She wore a sort of uniform with a dark bonnet much like a Salvation Army
girl's. There were some Presbyterians in the class, too. We ended with a
discussion on the respective value of forms of prayer and of extempore
prayer, those not in communion with us showing great sympathy and
breadth of mind.
Next day we went out on the prairie with the vicar, to visit the parents
and children who lived far away. There had been some rain, which added
to the glory of the flowers--masses of wild mustard and purple vetch and
luxuriant gaillardias.
On Friday, July 9, we started for Alsask, fifty miles off. We arrived by
supper-time, though we did not start till 4 p.m. We had a terrific
thunderstorm on the way. It was a wonderful and terrible sight, great
zig-zags of forked lightning against inky black clouds. We tried to keep
pace with the storm, expecting a torrential rain at every moment, which
would render the trails impassable. I set my teeth, and got every
possible ounce of speed out of the caravan. We could actually feel the
heat of the lightning. (They are called out here "electrical storms.")
Just as we thankfully caught sight of the Alsask elevators, the storm
increased. A terrific wind got up, and we saw a great grey cloud of dust
swirling towards us, mingling with the black storm-clouds above. As we
entered Alsask, the clouds burst and the rain came down in torrents. I
tore down the main street looking for a garage, to get the van under
cover as soon as possible. Fortunately, I soon found one. When the storm
had partially subsided, we made our way to the vicarage, and from under
cover watched the lightning and tried to take photos of it. Later on,
when it had cleared a little, we brought the caravan up to the vicarage
and slept in it.
The vicar and his wife were not long out from Southwark Diocese. He had
been secretary for his diocese for the A.W.C.F., and, like me, had got
keen in this way. The vicar's wife was a trained educationist, and ran a
splendid Sunday School, but, like all who know the most about a subject,
she was eager for fresh suggestions. Here, also, we received much
hospitality, and so got to know the people, and when we were not at
other folks' houses the children were with us. On the Sunday we held a
demonstration Sunday School.
While we were here a Sunday-school picnic was arranged. There were about
thirty to forty children, most of whom went with their parents, but we
took some in the van and the vicar took some in his car. Shrieks of
laughter arose from our passengers when the van skidded badly in the
sand. Our destination was a big slough, which was almost a small lake.
There was a crazy boat on it, in which the children rowed about, keeping
it afloat by vigorous bailing. I unwillingly adventured in this craft in
response to a pressing invitation, feeling certain that my weight would
send it to the bottom. A further diversion was paddling, in which we
also joined the children. It was very hot and quite shadeless: 104
degrees in the shade and 126 degrees in the sun is quite usual during
the Canadian summer, hence the national welcome accorded to ice-cream.
On this occasion the vicar brought a barrelful, which he doled out into
cone biscuits all through the afternoon. Each child ate about six, but
they paid for what they had. These ice-creams are most delicious and
wholesome, being made of pure cream from the Co-operative Creameries.
These are established in all large towns. They buy up the farmers'
cream, making it into butter or ice-cream, the latter being sent all
over the country in barrels. Co-operation is one of the great secrets of
success out here. Even this picnic tea was co-operative. Everybody
brought their own, and then shared it with others. Thus the speciality
of some clever housewife was enjoyed by many; and Mrs. X.'s iced layer
cake or Mrs. Y.'s salad was greatly in demand. Everybody wished to have
his or her "picture" taken, and it was very difficult to get them all
in, so we perched some on the top of the caravan.
On the Thursday we had another expedition. The vicar had just returned
from camping with his scouts at Laverna Lake, some thirty miles off, and
he happened to mention that he had left all his equipment there and did
not know how to get it back, so I suggested that we should fetch it in
the caravan. We got there in good time, though the trails were rough,
and I had a delicious swim before lunch.
It is a beautiful lake, surrounded by low hills. All around the margin
were lovely wild tiger-lilies. Mr. H., from Coleville, was in camp there
with his scouts. It is an ideal place for a camp.
We got back to Alsask in time to give a Bible picture talk to the
children around the caravan. Then we went on to a social evening, at
which we were asked to speak. All present seemed to realise the great
importance of work amongst the children.
On Friday morning the vicar kindly gave us an early Celebration as we
were going on to Youngstown, eighty miles away, where there was no
Anglican clergyman. It was a very hot day, and the trails were extremely
rough. When running one felt a little air, but when one stopped for
meals the heat was intense. The tyres got so hot that I had to keep them
covered or they would have burst.
Alsask is on the borders of Saskatchewan and Alberta, and we were now in
Alberta. We had written in advance to a Mr. and Mrs. S., some of the
leading laity of Youngstown, and Mrs. S. had replied that it would be
useless for us to attempt anything there this week because a Chautauqua
would be going on. Therefore, as Youngstown was the most westerly point
of the diocese which we were to visit, we thought it best to go on and
make arrangements for our work when the Chautauqua should be over,
meanwhile going on to Banff to see the Rockies. We did not arrive at
Youngstown till 8 p.m., and had to wait for some time before we could
see Mrs. S. as she was out. We then arranged meetings for the Saturday
and Sunday of the following week, thus giving her time to let all the
people know.