The Mormons on their exodus from Illinois to Salt Lake City sowed sunflower seeds along the trail, and ever since it has been marked by sunflowers. In the province of Saskatchewan, the Russian refugees sometimes divide their fields by rows of poppies. In Manitoba, their hedges are of sweet-peas; in British Columbia, of broom.
After awhile, when all our real-estate has been sold, and all our companies have been promoted, we of Alberta shall have time and inclination to consider our provincial plant.
Grant us then that it may be the sunflower!
CHAPTER XIX
COMMUNING WITH THE RUTHENIANS
I hear the tale of the divine life and the bloody death of the beautiful God, the Christ.—WALT WHITMAN.
This is my first visit to Mundare, on the Canadian Northern Railway, and to the Ruthenian Church—the church with glittering domes, the foundation stone of which was laid by the great Laurier himself. "Who is this Sir Laurier?" I ask. "Ach! I cannot tell you. He a great man is," says Michael Veranki, "his hair is like to the wild cotton in August, and his face is beautiful, even like the face of the great Archbishop Syptikyi, who is a soldier and a prince, and the like of whom there never was. Believe me, Messus, he has seven feet high and has seven tongues wherein to speak."
"About this Laurier? Ya! Ya! almost I forget. He the stone of the church placed in the corner, and we drew him in a wagon with six bullocks. He the King's man is, and a smile in his eyes there comes, quick, quick, like the wind comes on the wheat. Ya! Ya! we much like this King's man."
Nearly all the people are gone into the church and I follow. There are no seats, so all of us stand, the sexes separated like the sheep from the goats.