I have it on the best authority that the C P.R. is going to make that town a divisional point, or is going to connect up with the Canadian Northern or the Grand Trunk. It is going to build a two million dollar ‘deepo’ there and arrange a freightage shed that will astonish creation in that part of the country. Do you know, sir, that I sold six lots there three months ago at $10 a foot”—which means foot frontage—“to a friend of mine, and when I saw him only last Thursday he told me he had just refused $20 a foot for those lots. Now I can let you have these lots at $12 a foot, and you can take my word for it that within three months you will either have sold them for double the amount or you will have come to me for another dozen or score of lots. They are going just like hot cakes.” You wonder why a man with such gold mines in his possession should be willing to part with them at all. It is not only Real Estate men, however, who talk Real Estate. Everybody talks it. In the hotel, at the street corner, in the departmental store, on the railway, you hear Real Estate, Real Estate, Real Estate all the time. It is a subject of the most thrilling and never-fading interest to the Canadian. You meet men everywhere who have been dabbling in lots, and to a certain extent they confirm the Real Estate man’s rosy pictures of the money to be made out of this form of speculation. A man not a year out from England told me, for instance, that he had bought four lots at $300 a lot and within six months had refused $2,500 for them. Real Estate has become not only a Canadian business, but a Canadian pastime, rivalling baseball and pool in its capture of the imagination and the absorbing interest that its votaries take in it.