And in the evening I was sitting by myself on the slopes of that mountain opposite"-- he raised his hand--"looking at the railway camps below me, and the first rough line that had been cut through the forests.

And I thought of the day when the trains would be going backwards and forwards, and these nameless valleys and peaks would become the playground of Canada and America.

But what I didn't see was the shade of England looking on!--England, whose greater destiny was being decided by those gangs of workmen below me, and the thousands of workmen behind me, busy night and day in bridging the gap between east and west.

Traffic from north and south"-- he turned towards the American--"that meant, for _your_ Northwest, fusion with _our_ Northwest; traffic from east to west--that meant England, and the English Sisterhood of States! And that, for the moment, I didn't see." "Shall I quote you something I found in an Edmonton paper the other day ?" said Anderson, raising his head from where he lay, looking down into the grass.

And with his smiling, intent gaze fixed on the American, he recited: Land of the sweeping eagle, your goal is not our goal! For the ages have taught that the North and the South breed difference of soul.
We toiled for years in the snow and the night, because we believed in the spring, And the mother who cheered us first, shall be first at the banquetting! The grey old mother, the dear old mother, who taught us the note we sing! The American laughed.
"A bit raw, like some of your prairie towns; but it hits the nail.