One day as the train lay in a switch near Humboldt a boy mounted the steps with a new birthday present, and explained that he wanted to take his first picture of “Mister Laurier.” A few moments later the tall figure was standing patiently on the track till the juvenile photographer “got it right.” The little fellow secured first-hand what scores of correspondents and local photographers had for weeks been struggling with crowds and erecting pedestals to obtain. The devotion of the habitant of rural Quebec to Sir Wilfrid Laurier was well illustrated by an incident during the campaign of 1911. The Liberal leader was leaving Bonaventure station, in Montreal, very early one morning to proceed, via Coteau, to accept the nomination for Soulanges. At the station he passed a little girl, the daughter of a basket-laden woman, on her way to market. He stopped to pat the child’s head and exchange a greeting. “Qui est l’homme?” (“Who is the man?”) asked the astonished mother of a bystander. “Sir Wilfrid Laurier,” replied one of the group of newspapermen nearby. The woman’s face was a picture. “En vérité?” (“Indeed, truly?”) she persisted, turning from one to another for confirmation. When she was convinced she ran after the departing figure and stroked the sleeves of his coat as if it were something holy. Sir Wilfrid turned and shook her hand, ere the poor woman fled in confusion. * * * * * His love of children was very sincere. On one occasion he was visiting a friend at his farm near Aurora. One evening he sat down to dinner, and after commencing, excused himself, went upstairs and shortly returned. Next day the little granddaughter of his host, who was also staying at the farm, said that, “Mr. Wilfrid” had forgotten to say goodnight to her the night before and that he had come up from dinner to kiss her goodnight and speak to her before she went to sleep. * * * * * A man who visits Ottawa from time to time tells of an unexpected interview with Sir Wilfrid. Word was brought to him that the Liberal Chieftain wished to see him. The remainder of the story may be told in his own words:— The friend who brought me the message made an appointment for me to visit Sir Wilfrid at two o’clock in the afternoon. When I reached his home on Laurier Avenue, he was waiting for me, and although I had never met him before, his welcome was so simple and kindly that I felt at home at once, and felt as if we had been life-long friends. In a sense we had been, for I had admired him since I had first seen him on a platform over thirty years ago. The acquaintanceship was at least complete on my side. I felt that I knew him very thoroughly, and his welcome made me forget that his knowledge of me must be very casual.