He held pronounced views on the temperance question, and, while not by any means a total abstainer, believed that intoxicants should be greatly restricted and sparingly used. When the Montreal _Witness_ attacked the C.P.R. for selling liquor on its dining-cars, I called upon my good friend, John Dougall, the editor of that paper, and explained that the flask had almost entirely disappeared from the smoking-rooms in the trains through passengers being able to get a drink in the diner. It was the same old story of Adam and Eve and the forbidden fruit. My argument was that the C.P.R. was as great a temperance reformer as any temperance organization, for no trainman was allowed to go on his run if there was the slightest taint of liquor on his breath, and sobriety was required of all employees when on duty. Besides, when one happened to fall from grace, he was called on the carpet, and a repetition of his offence was punished with dismissal. Then I instanced that once, out at Moose Jaw, when Lord Shaughnessy saw some trainmen entering the bar at the company’s hotel, he called to Sir William Whyte: “Whyte close that bar.” Several hours passed and Lord Shaughnessy noticed that the bar was still open. Calling Sir William, he sharply said: “Whyte, I told you to close that bar. Why wasn’t it closed?” “I am going to do so to-night at closing time.” “No, you’re not. Close it now.” And it was closed instanter. His Repartee Like Rapier Thrust. With the sole object of encouraging the thoroughbred horse industry in the Province of Quebec, Lord Shaughnessy not only became a member of the then newly-formed Montreal Jockey Club, but also imported a fashionably-bred race mare. Although highly recommended this mare “Silk Hose” finished in most of her races a very bad last. In one when she had galloped past the stand probably thirty lengths behind the other starters, Charles M. Hays, then president of the G.T.R., who was standing beside Lord Shaughnessy, remarked, “That’s a fast mare you have, Shaughnessy.” “Yes,” replied Lord Shaughnessy, “she’s about as fast as a Grand Trunk train.” After her unsuccessful racing career, “Silk Hose” was placed in the stud. Her first foal, a filly named “Lisle Hose,” seemed to inherit the mother’s hoo-doo. She became ill as a yearling; was sick as a two-year-old, and the following season—died. The morning after she “kicked out,” Tom Callary, his secretary, told his lordship that he had bad news for him. “What is it?” he asked. “The trainer has just told me that the filly died last night—” “That’s not bad news,” replied Lord Shaughnessy. “That’s good news; we won’t have to feed the blessed thing any longer, will we?”