CHAPTER XII WINNIPEG AND THE CENTENARY For over a century, as I have already pointed out, Western Canada formed part of a vast theatre in which the fur traders enacted their stirring, if somewhat squalid, drama. Of the several men who figured prominently in the history of that period, there was one whose memory should be revered by Canadians of To-day and To-morrow. Philanthropy knows no higher work than to rescue capable and industrious men from a country where they cannot support their families, and emigrate them to a country where they can. In that work—which is so largely a modern development rendered possible by modern conditions—Lord Selkirk was a remarkable pioneer. He was a seer, born far ahead of his times. One hundred years ago he saw the possibility of settling Western Canada. In an age that knew nothing of steamships and railroads, he had a prevision of farming on the prairie. Had his aspirations remained an unrealised dream, we should have sufficient occasion to honour the memory of a prophet. But that kind-hearted and resolute Scotsman realised his dream. Encountering difficulty after difficulty, he overcame them. He found his time of day sadly out of tune with a scheme for putting the landless man on the manless land, but he achieved that desirable end. It is, indeed, to the everlasting credit of Lord Selkirk that he successfully tackled a twentieth-century job at the dawn of the nineteenth century. While the warlike traders were losing their tempers and their lives over the business of collecting pelts, the unselfish nobleman was putting in some quiet, steady work on behalf of humanity. After the terrible Napoleonic wars, great destitution occurred among the humbler classes in Great Britain, and specially in the Highlands of Scotland. Lord Selkirk’s aim was to benefit his needy fellow-countrymen. In June, 1811, three ships left the Thames to call at Stornoway, in the Hebrides, for the first party of settlers bound for Central Canada. The emigrants, as they went on board, were presented with a lying pamphlet describing their destination as a Polar region infested with hostile Indians. They were encouraged to return ashore for a good-bye spree on their native soil. A “customs officer” stepped aboard and played exasperating tricks with their baggage. Another bogus official came rowing alongside to ascertain whether every emigrant was leaving Scotland of his own free will. (Lord Selkirk’s protégés dealt with this point by dropping a nine-pound cannon-ball into the gentleman’s boat.)