Ross informed us that we must return soon to Kicking Horse Lake and Laggan, as there would be no train later. However, we said that John was extremely anxious to see the working of the line at the end, and it would be a great pity for him not to have the time, and "_could_ we stay the night?" He replied, "certainly." Hedley and E--- walked on at a great pace after the other two, beyond my powers, and I sauntered on quietly alone, only meeting a few men, belonging to the railway in most cases and working on the line, which is the only _road_ which one can walk on comfortably here, and I got three miles, but then a horrid bridge stopped me, as I hate walking on planks far apart over a height without a helping hand. I have been all along struck with the far superior accent and good English of the working men in America (Canada especially); they have often very good features, too, and wear a well-shaped moustache, and meet one with a smile. They treat one as equals, but they are not at all rude, and are always willing to help. I spoke to some in my solitary walk, and only that they were hard at work hammering in nails, &c., I should have liked to "tell them a story." They all returned from end of "construction" on a truck train, Dick and E--- on an open car, and Hedley and John in the cab of the engine. We then dined; such a fat coloured man Mr. Ross has in his car! He could hardly squeeze through the narrow passages, but he managed to give us something to eat. Mr. Ross received a telegram later to say Mr. Angus, our host at Montreal, Mr. Donald Smith, both directors of the Canadian Pacific Railway, Mr. Cyrus Field, &c., &c., were at Calgarry, and wanted to _come on_, so all is arranged for them, and they are expected soon, and we hope to return with them this afternoon to Laggan, to our own car. Last evening E--- suddenly said, "I wish we could sleep in a tent?" Mr. Ross answered, "I can easily manage it for you," and accordingly two men of business (I think contractors for food, &c.), were turned out of their tent, and came to our car, and John and E--- slept in their small tent near the river. I don't think they will want to do it _again_, and I was better off in a nice room all to myself, where I could dress comfortably, but had not many appliances for that end. We all met at eight o'clock breakfast, and our black man (who looked more than ever like a large bolster, well filled and tied at the top for his head), cooked us an eatable beef-steak, and after this John and Mr. Ross's brother "_Jack_" rode off to penetrate as far as they could beyond "construction." I am a little nervous about his ride, for the road is a mere track, and very rough, however, wagons and mules _do_ travel on it. E--- has made many pretty sketches; mine are scanty and perfectly horrid. I don't improve at all. The sun is trying to come out. We are on a siding, close to numbers of tents and mules and wagons, a sort of depot for provisions, clothes, &c. I have never seen a