“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.