By way of illustration, let me turn aside to tell you of an incident that occurred not long ago during one of our many winters which enjoy the reputation of being "the coldest on record." A native passing along St. George Street, just above Bloor, saw a gentleman in a voluminous fur-lined coat, emerge from a comfortable-looking abode and hasten down the walk. At the junction of the street he slipped, performing an involuntary acrobatic feat, which barely saved him from taking a header into the mountain of snow beyond. His feelings, when equilibrium was regained, found vent in the murmured ejaculation overheard by my friend, "This blawsted country!"
Now I consider that injustice was done our climate by this remark, and I repeat it only by way of warning. I, myself, have resided in England quite long enough to know that the Englishman may be justified of his cap.
But I have wandered from my point. I was going on to say that many of these gentry who used to come out to Canada for their health, were well versed in the art of mendicancy. For years I lived—or writhed—under the spell of one strong, able-bodied gentleman, who classified himself as "a school-master at
