“You may NOT, my young friend!” said Sir Wilfrid, “But you may take me to them.”
Which he did, and so gracefully added to his legions.
Much has been said of his affection for children, another expression after all, of that same kindness and dignity. A Toronto newspaper editor when a boy of fourteen, wrote a long letter to Sir Wilfrid from the boy’s point of view, referring to politics and to Sir Wilfrid’s stand on prohibition and other reforms. Deep as he was in the work of Parliament at the time, Sir Wilfrid did not neglect to reply promptly, and in a fine, courteous letter, said that he would be glad to discuss the questions at greater length when he should happen to visit the lad’s home-town. And when Sir Wilfrid passed through that way, the lad was invited to dinner with him. The politically “kind” man couldn’t do that. It required Sir Wilfrid’s genuine emotions towards the young.
While humor did not abound in Sir Wilfrid’s speeches and debates, he had a shrewd wit, equal to all occasions. In a debate twitting Sir Charles Tupper on Sir Charles’s reminiscences of his political services, Sir Wilfrid said that between Sir Charles and Sir John A. Macdonald they had sailed the ship of state pretty successfully, Sir John supplying the brains and Sir Charles supplying the wind to fill the sails.
Campaigning through the country Sir Wilfrid was always master of the situation. There was withal, something of the “grand seigneur” about him. He had a keen sense of dramatic values. While he yielded to the worship of those who crowded his car to shake his hand, he did not show himself to the public one moment before it was necessary. Sometimes the clamor of admirers forced him from his bed at midnight. With all the love for applause, characteristic of his race, and of the dramatic temperament, his common sense never deserted him. During his last tour of Nova Scotia, one morning his boat barely landed when an enthusiastic young woman crossed the gang plank and handed him an armful of flowers. Such is to be expected as part of every meeting, but there on the bare deck of a steamer the chieftain was nonplussed. As he laid the gift on the hatch he turned and said over his shoulder: “Is a man ever so helpless as he is with a bouquet?”
On one occasion an excited supporter telegraphed:
“Report in circulation here, that your antagonism to religion is so strong, that you have never had any of your children baptized. Very damaging to party. Telegraph me if untrue.”
Sir Wilfrid’s reply was characteristic: