“A little incident of which I was apparently the sole Winnipeg witness, in connection with Sir Thomas, occurred on a perfect May morning. The President was to arrive and did arrive on a special train from Montreal, shortly before eight o’clock, and I caught him just as he stepped from his car. As usual he was courteous and ready to talk to the press and said that if I would wait until after breakfast he would answer any questions I could ask. His car, the Killarney, was left standing on the track closest to the depot. The rear was all glass, and all the members of his party, seated at the breakfast table—there were not more than four or five—were in full view. Taking no chances I remained in close proximity, waiting for the end of the meal when the interview would be obtainable. There was at that time no train shed at the Canadian Pacific depot and there was a wide expanse of board walk. At the moment of the little incident to which I refer this sidewalk was absolutely clear. Strange to say, there was not a red cap nor a Canadian Pacific police or official of any kind in sight. A local train was standing on one track, well loaded, and ready to pull out in a few moments. “Suddenly I saw Sir Thomas arise and come quickly out of the car. Believing that he was coming to meet his appointment with me, I went forward. He passed me by saying ‘Not yet.’ I then noticed that a slight, small, foreign woman, in a worn, discoloured cotton dress, carrying her possessions in a white sheet, a big package about three feet high and three feet wide at the widest, and with four small children, was making her way across the expanse of sidewalk. The conductor had just given the signal for departure. Sir Thomas hurried to the side of the woman, gave a signal to the trainmen, took the huge bundle in the white sheet in one hand and one of the children by the other, helped the woman to the train, handed the white bundle to the brakeman, lifted the four children up the steps, aided the foreign woman up, and returned to his breakfast. A little later he was telling me in his private car of the plans of the Company for immigration work that year, about the new lines that were to be built, betterments which were to be made, and the prospects for the future in the prairie country, then humming with prosperity and brimming over with optimism.” I can quite imagine this scene at the old station I knew well in the early days. It was not then so ornate or so much protected by fences and gates, but it afforded opportunities for deeds of the kind recorded above. It was a fine, but perfectly spontaneous act, on the part of the famous President, who saw from his private car the plight of the immigrant mother.