In those far-off days the system of running engines in chain gangs had not come in—treating throbbing ironhorses as if they were mere electric cars, to be driven by any man who comes next on a list. During waits on the road Billy fussed with his engine as if she were a child, and in the roundhouse Joe was blithe as a lark, cleaning up and banking the fires on Monday and Friday nights, ready for the return trip to the Portage next day.
The Canadian Northern era of expansion required us to find names for about six hundred towns, and about as many shipping points. Dauphin has always ranked as premier among the first-born of these communities. The name, of course, comes from the lake near by, which was so called by the earliest French explorers. The first trading post was built near the lake, it is believed by one of Verendrye’s sons.
The present town was started in a wheat field. It has always had a fine class of citizens. The relations between the railway superintendent and the townsfolk were more intimate than was possible when the terminus of a new enterprise had become a division point for a multiplying east-and-west traffic, and had grown from a few dozen to several thousand inhabitants.
The feeling on both sides was of the friendliest goodwill. One recalls, with unaffected pleasure, a kindly and too appreciative article in the Dauphin press, I think in the second year of our service, which said of the superintendent, “Who knows that some day he won’t be rushing through Dauphin in a private car.”
The Dauphineers were of that blest portion in the nation which lives and learns. One recollection of their capacity in that way is a bright and shining example of how deputations to railway officers may discover that all the wisdom doesn’t invariably reside with those who feel bound to make complaints.
Fundamentally the Lake Manitoba was a colonization road. During the first summer of its construction the general election brought the Laurier Government to power. A month before we began regular service Attorney-General Sifton of Manitoba became Minister of the Interior, and responsible for immigration. In 1897 the work was done which resulted in the first considerable settlement of Galicians in the prairie country—they came into the territory northwesterly of Lake Manitoba.
Except the settlements of Mennonites between Winnipeg and the boundary, Manitoba had been almost entirely settled by Ontario and Old Country people, with the French-speaking Canadians numerous around St. Boniface, and in the Provencher district, east of Winnipeg. The advent of large numbers of people from southeast Europe was viewed with alarm by many excellent citizens; and there was much grumbling among the elect as the Galicians hove in sight.
I accompanied the first party which was destinated for Dauphin. They camped outside the town—not a very fashionable looking crowd, it is true. The women with handkerchiefs over their heads, their footwear made entirely for enduring ease, and their waistlines uncontrolled, deceived some onlookers as to their suitability for rearing Canadian citizens.
Pretty soon a deputation of townsmen waited upon Superintendent Hanna, with strong, straight intimation that by this unsolicited invasion a grave error in judgment had been committed, and a menace to the peace, order and good government of the realm introduced among a people who deserved a better fate. This threatened tide must be rolled back. And so on and so forth.
Superintendent Hanna reasoned with the deputation as well as he could, pointing out that these people had been attached to the soil for centuries; that they were accustomed to work, and not afraid of it; that their poverty was the best incentive to them to make good in a land where they would be free from some of the afflictions of their former country—compulsory military service, for instance.