big a navy as Switzerland. [Illustration: HOW OUR EARLY SETTLERS ARRIVED IN WINNIPEG.] The Plot to Secede One of the most exciting of the episodes in which I figured was the secession meeting held in the third storey of a big building immediately opposite the city hall. Mack Howse, Charles Stewart and some other disgruntled people called the meeting to pass resolutions that Manitoba should secede from the Dominion. T. J. Lynskey, of the Government Railway, learning this, resolved to head off the disloyal gathering. Obtaining a card of admission, a few hundred imitation ones were printed and distributed where they would do the most good. When the meeting opened with Mr. Stewart in the chair, the hall was packed—but not with faces familiar to many of the organization. Mr. Stewart, who was an Englishman and perfectly sincere in his views, seeing before him what might be a hostile audience, discreetly gave a moderate address, and when the secession resolution was read, there were calls for Mr. Wilson, father of Charlie and Herb Wilson, the lawyers, and himself a barrister of high standing. He was a staunch Liberal and also a staunch Canadian, and the merciless tongue-lashing he gave the seceders in a twenty minute speech would have done credit to Sir Richard Cartwright himself. His peroration, if not grand, was effective. Turning to the chairman, he shouted at him: “And now, sir, if it were not for your gray hairs and your advanced age I would——” And he glanced significantly at the open window near him. There were calls for me and I was trying to keep the young men around me in leash. I simply told them that I had not come to speak, but to listen, but if it would facilitate matters at all, I would move that the chairman be a committee of one to secede. This fully met the views of the great majority of the meeting and when Johnny Gurn, who kept a restaurant which was not run altogether on temperance principles, rose and said: “I seconds the motion,” pandemonium broke loose and the meeting broke up. In descending the long flights of stairs some attempts were made by too enthusiastic individuals to interfere with the malcontents but there were enough of us to safeguard them. At four o’clock next morning my doorbell rang—I lived in Fort Rouge then—and on going to the door who should be there but Charlie Stewart. Inviting him in, and offering him and myself some liquid refreshments, he began to explain about the meeting. What I wanted to know was who were the real instigators of the affair, but say what I would, he would not betray his friends. All I got out of him as he left the house at daybreak was: “But I’ll tell you one thing, Mr. Ham, there’ll be no more meetings for me on a third storey. Ground floors for me every time after this.”