HEADED FOR HOME
On my return from Punnichy I went to see the Bishop and Mrs. Harding,
and described our caravan tour. His lordship said that my account only
emphasised his previous conviction that work among the children was of
vital importance, and he hoped I would come back in the following spring
to carry it on. I explained that I had my diocesan work in England, and
had only six months' leave of absence, and was even now hurrying back to
take a Teachers' Training Course.
I had plenty to do during the next few days. I had sent home to England
for a good many books and pictures, and these now had to be done up and
sent off to the different places we had visited on the prairie. A
decidedly arduous task, too, was the cleaning of the caravan, to which a
good deal of the trail still clung. I spent strenuous hours with a hose
and brush, cleaning it inside and out. A hole had been knocked in the
composition boarding of the door, and I racked my brains to think of a
way to mend it. Then I remembered the paper pulp with which we make
raised maps. This did splendidly and hardened well. Then there were all
the books and pictures and models to catalogue and store for the winter,
ready for those who should take the van out next spring.
I had told the garage to fetch the caravan and take the engine down and
clean and overhaul it, but as they did not send for it I took it round
myself on the Monday and said that it must be done by the Thursday, as I
had to leave for England. When I went next day they had merely taken
down a little bit of the engine. They did not get to work on it properly
till the Wednesday, which was very annoying, as I wished to have the
back springs strengthened, a long job, and one which I meant to see
thoroughly done. I spent Thursday running to and fro between the garage
and the parish hall (where many of my things were stored). I had to
catch an early train in the morning, and so told a porter overnight to
fetch my cases and boxes from the parish hall. After supper I went round
to the garage again to see if the van was finished. It wasn't. I knew
that if I left it the mechanics would go off to some other car, and not
only would my van certainly not be done in the morning, but quite
possibly it would never be properly done at all, and when used next year
might break down at a critical moment. I therefore determined to stay
and see it finished. I knew the garage was open all night, with a
special set of mechanics for night duty. Hour after hour passed. I stood
around by the van and handed tools from time to time, and pointed out
what I wanted done, and by thus keeping them at it the van was actually
finished soon after 7 a.m. I rushed off with it to the W.'s, and Mrs. W.
and I packed all the equipment in it as fast as we could. Then I hurried
up to the Synod garage, taking a man with me to remove the electric
starter, which would freeze if left in all winter. As I flew along I
thought wistfully of the splendid breakfast which kind Mrs. W. had
prepared and which I had no time to eat. I handed over the car and keys,
got another car to take me to the station, and just managed to catch the
train. There was no time to feel sentimental over bidding farewell to my
beloved "Tin Lizzie," who had done such wonders for us. Several friends
came to see me off, but my cases from the parish hall only appeared on
the platform as the train steamed out of the station, and it was months
before I saw them again.
I went by train to Fort William, on Lake Superior, then by the Great
Lakes and down the St. Lawrence River. Lake Superior is a huge inland
sea, into which you could drop England. On Sunday morning we reached the
easterly end of the lake, where the great locks are between Lake
Superior and Lake Huron. We stopped at Sault St. Marie for several
hours, and some of us went ashore to church. I hunted about for an
Anglican church, and seeing one with a cross on it made for it; but it
was a Roman Catholic church, and was packed to the doors. Next I found a
Presbyterian church, and at last found an Anglican one, which I
afterwards discovered was the pro-cathedral. The Archbishop of Algoma
was preaching on the Lambeth Conference, from which he had just
returned. I had to leave before the end of the service lest the boat
should go without me. We started again at one o'clock, and went down
Lake Huron and through the Georgian Bay and past the Ten Thousand
Islands. It was very beautiful. We arrived at Fort McNicholl at 8 a.m.
on Monday. I then went by train to Toronto, and thence took a steamer
down Lake Ontario. It was a grey day, but the scenery was lovely, and
the waves quite rough, like the sea. We passed into the St. Lawrence at
night, and on the Tuesday morning began to pass the Thousand Islands,
some of which are disfigured by enormous houses, which look too big for
the island. At Prescott we changed into a tiny steamer called _The Queen
of the Rapids_, and went on down the river, soon coming to the first of
the rapids, which the steamer shot. There is a drop of three hundred
feet between Prescott and Montreal. The biggest rapid is the Lachine
Rapid, with a fall of eighty-five feet. These rapids have always been
shot by the Indians in their canoes, and now one always comes on board
to pilot the steamer down. The river here is far wider than the Thames
at London, and the rapids form a foaming bar from side to side, through
which there is only one narrow channel. As we rushed through we were
suddenly aware that the walls of water close on either side were veiling
rocks, between which the boat passed with only a few inches to spare. We
went three miles in one and a half minutes. In 1921 the rudder chain
broke when the steamer was shooting the rapids. The boat dashed on the
rocks and had a hole knocked in it, but the passengers managed to reach
an island and were all saved.
We arrived at Montreal that night, whence I went on to Quebec by train,
the _Empress of France_ being too big to get up the river. I arrived at
Quebec in the cold early morning, and spent the day hunting up my
luggage, but finding very little of it. I found time, however, to go up
to the Heights of Abraham, whence I had a magnificent view right over
the harbour. Both here and at Fort William the gigantic elevators were a
striking sight, and I could also see a lot of lumber floating in Quebec
harbour.
Quebec is a strangely old-world town, noticeably so after the very
modern West. I went into a shoemaker's shop to get a shoe mended, but
had to make my wants known chiefly by signs, as the man spoke a queer
old French and knew no English.
This journey down through the Great Lakes and the St. Lawrence is so
exceedingly beautiful that it is a pity more people do not take it. But
it is only possible in the summer months. After October the lakes are
too rough, and in winter the St. Lawrence is blocked by ice.
As we steamed out of Quebec the Heights of Abraham looked very fine with
the sunset behind them. We went by the northern passage, between
Labrador and Newfoundland. At night the Northern Lights lit up the sky
for two or three hours together, and just here we had to go slowly for
fear of sunken icebergs.
We got to Liverpool on September 15, but though we arrived at 4 p.m., we
did not get off the boat till 7.30 p.m., as a White Star liner was at
the landing-stage, so I did not get home till next morning.