Moose Jaw, as the name of a city, provokes smiles. It derives its name, according to local belief, from the discovery of the jaw of a moose on its site before the Canadian Pacific Railway drove its steel across the prairie. Moose Jaw was an insignificant village, and, but for the railway, an insignificant village it would have remained, its only population a few Indians and a handful of half-breeds, with an occasional visitor in the person of a Hudson’s Bay or Eastern trader or a mounted police trooper. The railway pioneers, however, saw in Moose Jaw a strategic position for a railway centre, and immediately the village began to grow by leaps and bounds. The C.P.R. has spent millions of dollars in Moose Jaw on its fifty-three miles of trackage, its stock-yards, its freight sheds and its trains and depots, built prophetically with a view to the needs of the future great manufacturing and distributing city. The Grand Trunk and Canadian Northern Railways are now entering Moose Jaw, and within a year or two fourteen lines will radiate from the city, linking it up with all Canada and the United States. Great flour mills have been established, and huge meat-packing plants, bridge and iron works are among other manufacturing concerns. The applications for building permits for new factories, mills, banks, business houses and the like are increasing with a rapidity that makes the people early on the spot smile their broadest and shake hands with each other at the stream of gold flowing into their bank accounts. To the Englishman, accustomed to the harmonious lines of handsomely-built business streets and macadamised roads, with their hard surface and the broad pavement, Moose Jaw does not make a particularly favourable first impression. Moose Jaw is at present a muddy place, with “side walks” only just making their appearance. With sewage construction, water and gas supply and other necessaries in progress, the roads are always “up,” but the automobile owners who kindly “run us round” care nothing for a foot depth of mud and ruts such as were never seen in English lanes. They are “cross country” riders of the most fearless type, and bump English visitors in and out of the ruts and up and down folds of the prairie in a fashion that puts British courage to a severe test. Moose Jaw mud, like all prairie mud, is of the fattest, stickiest kind, but, as a leading citizen said to me, “Our streets five years ago were just muddy tracks, but it was prairie mud; it grew our ‘No. 1 Hard,’ the world’s standard in wheat; it gave us our money, and we cheerfully put up with it.” Moose Jaw has boundless confidence in itself. It believes, like all the cities of the West, that it is the city with a future. Other cities may be going ahead, but Moose Jaw will always show them the way. The pride of local patriotism is nowhere so highly developed as in these Western cities.