A walk in the city is amusing. Grand shops and well-built offices everywhere attract the eye. Ladies in the latest fashion meet you one minute, and the next you jostle a swarthy Indian, half civilized, and his squaw, still less civilized than himself. Odd fur-skins are exposed for sale, while a stuffed bear adorns the main street, up and down which run all day long the newsboys with the latest telegrams from London, or Paris, or New York. To-day I have seen a photograph of the original fireman of the ‘Rocket,’ who lives here, and has made a large fortune by contracts. Unfortunately, at this time he is absent from home, and I fear I shall not have a chance of interviewing him. Religion flourishes here. There are about fifteen churches and chapels in the city, and the Young Men’s Christian Association is in a very successful condition. Of Protestant bodies, the leading ones are the Presbyterians, the Methodists, and the Episcopalians. In connection with the Cathedral of St. Boniface, the oldest church in the city, it is interesting to note that the bells came originally from Birmingham, by Hudson’s Bay, and that after the destruction of the building the remains of the metal were gathered up and sent to Birmingham, whence they have again come back after an interval of three years. The city stands in the midst of a fertile plain, adequate to the support of any amount of population. But the land is far better further on. At Manitoba, for instance, the soil is much finer. Manitoba is an Indian name denoting the Voice of God. It seems that the rocks on the river are cavernous, and that at certain seasons of the year the wind strikes them with such force as to produce a singular reverberation, which the rude Indian, whose untutored mind teaches him to see God in the cloud and hear Him in the wind, considered to be no less than the utterance of the Deity Himself. [Picture: Hunting scene on the Souris River, Manitoba]