The Marquis of Lansdowne.
The first time I met Lord Lansdowne was at the opening of the Lethbridge Collieries railway which connected the mines with the main line of the C.P.R. at Dunmore. We were up early in the morning, but the eating facilities had rather fallen down and Mr. W. E. Maclellan (now Inspector of Post Offices at Halifax), who represented the Winnipeg Free Press, and myself, hadn’t much in the way of solids until late in the afternoon. The banquet was held that evening in a large building belonging to the Coal company, and Mac and I thought we would seek a quiet corner to report the speeches. We got in the wrong door, and came out unexpectedly on the platform on which the guests of the evening were seated. Sir Alexander Galt presided, with His Excellency on his right, and Mac and I, feeling very embarrassed, were ushered into seats directly facing them with our backs to the audience. After the chairman and His Excellency’s address, Sir Alexander insisted that both Mac and I should speak, but we begged off, and the next morning we visited some Indian reserves and Port Macleod, where my old friend, Kamoose Taylor, entertained us, the banquet chiefly consisting of liquid refreshments. At one of the reserves Jerry Potts was interpreter, and Jerry got tired of the long-winded talks of the red men. You see, one of them gets up and talks for five minutes or so, and then the interpreter translates his words into English. One chap was especially importunate. He was starving for this and starving for that until the interpreter’s patience ceased. A ten-minute aboriginal declamation was condensed by Jerry as follows: “He wants, he wants to live like the white man. He wants pie.” The conference then suddenly came to a close, with His Excellency doing his best to conceal his laughter.
It was on this trip that Jerry is said to have sent back a message to the gubernatorial party, after having been frequently bothered by enquiries as to what would be seen when the driving party got to the top of the next hill: “Another hill, you d——n fools.”
Next morning we were on the C.P.R. east bound train, and at an early hour, I was busy at work. Sir Alexander came along and seeing me writing so early in the morning, after the previous two days’ strenuousness asked if he could help me. I said he could, as so much had happened so quickly that I might have a hazy idea of some things that had occurred, and asked him if he would look over my report, to which he willingly consented. The introduction pleased him, for I had paid him a deservedly high compliment, and maintained that no matter what might be the official title of the road, it would always be called the Galt Railway, which it isn’t now. The report of his speech at the banquet met with his approval, but when he came to Lord Lansdowne’s he hesitated. “I didn’t hear him say that,” and “I don’t think he said this,” and similar remarks. But I told him I was not bigoted, and he could fix it up to suit himself, which he did, and it was a corking good report. So much so, that a few months later, when I went to Ottawa to represent the Times in the press gallery, Lord Lansdowne sent Billy Campbell to tell me how highly he appreciated my (?) excellent report, and asked me to call and register on the visitor’s list, so that invitations could be sent me for social functions. By which you will learn that if you can’t do a thing yourself, get somebody who can do it better than you to do it for you.