Walking down Notre Dame Street one morning in the summer of ’92 I met Sir William Van Horne, who enquired about the Maritime Provinces, where I was then doing missionary work for the C.P.R. I told him that it was a pleasant country to roam around in—especially in the summer time—but that until more energy was developed in public utilities, increased prosperity could not be expected. The Provinces needed a great developing agency like the C.P.R., instead of the Government-owned road, and until such a developing factor was secured the same old conditions would prevail. I also told him that while the practical politicians of both parties were strong advocates of Government control of the I.C.R. for the peculiar advantages and influences it afforded the political bosses, I didn’t believe the great mass of the people were of the same mind, but would gladly hail the advent of the C.P.R. He said, “Well, go down and buy it.” He didn’t give me any money, but I did try, and found that nearly three-fourths of the newspapers there favored a change. All went well, with the powerful aid of the Toronto _Globe_ and other Western newspapers, but in ’94 Sir John Thompson, then Premier of the Dominion, declared that if the control of the I.C.R. was transferred to the C.P.R. or any other private corporation, he would resign. That ended it, and the Maritime Provinces remained somnolent until other developing factors and more capital infused life into them, and years after gave them the prosperity that would have been theirs a quarter of a century sooner. An Old-Time Roadmaster. John Riordan was an old and efficient roadmaster of the C.P.R. western lines, and he ever had an eye to the company’s interests. One day, a navvy was taken ill with cramps, and there being no medical man within hailing distance, and no proper remedies, John seized a sizzling hot mince pie and clapped it on the suffering man’s stomach. He quickly recovered, and when John reported the matter, he was quizzingly asked what he had done with the pie, and he naively said: “Shure, sor, I put it back on the shelf.” John was a thoroughly loyal employee, and when there was a strike on, he wired his brother, then on strike at Deloraine, in an effort to bring him back to the ranks. “Tim Riordan, C.P.R., Deloraine, You are now roadmaster for the Deloraine division. (Sgd.) John Riordan.” Quickly came back the answer: “John Riordan, C.P.R., Winnipeg, You are a d—— liar. I am not. Timothy Riordan.” When Coal Was Costly.