CHAPTER XVIII

The Great Northern Giant—The Early Days of theC.P.R. and its Big Promoters—Where the Aristocracyof Brains Ruled—A Huge Undertakingand a Broad Policy—A Conspicuously CanadianEnterprise—Something About theMen Who Ruled—My Fidus Achates—CaptainsCourageous—The Active Menof To-Day—And Interesting FactsAbout the C. P. R.

The Great Northern Giant—The Early Days of the

C.P.R. and its Big Promoters—Where the Aristocracy

of Brains Ruled—A Huge Undertaking

and a Broad Policy—A Conspicuously Canadian

Enterprise—Something About the

Men Who Ruled—My Fidus Achates—Captains

Courageous—The Active Men

of To-Day—And Interesting Facts

About the C. P. R.

The completion of the Canadian Pacific railway placed Canada prominently on the map of the world and magically transformed a widely scattered Dominion into a prosperous and progressive nation.

It was in 1857—sixty-four years ago—that the search for a path across British North America was begun by the British Government. Other schemes had been promulgated which involved a diversion through the United States to avoid the rock-bound north shore of Lake Superior, and the St. Paul and Pacific railway was projected to connect the Minnesota city with the Pacific coast through the prairies and mountains of Canada. But it was to be an all-Canadian route, and in the early days of its construction a policy of utilizing the waterways was adopted—a futile one in the light of after events. The building of 3,000 miles partly through an unknown territory was a gigantic undertaking, and the very boldness of the scheme engendered a feeling of doubt which was only dispelled by the inexorable logic of facts.

The great national work was first assumed by the Federal government, but on February 15th, 1881—just forty years ago—a charter was granted to the Canadian Pacific railway company, and through that company’s untiring energy, unceasing efforts, unflagging perseverance and boundless faith in the undertaking, the success of the great work was completely assured. Ten years were specified for the completion of the railway; in five years—and five years ahead of the contract time—the road was completed from ocean to ocean.

The marvellously rapid construction of the road was one of the grandest achievements of the age. The engineering difficulties were appalling. The granite hills of the east and the fastnesses of the Rockies were pierced, and river, lagoon, coulee, morass, rocky defile and broad stretching prairie were crossed and covered with an iron trail, over which daily speeds the iron horse with its long train of heavily laden coaches.

For completing this herculean task, the present company was given a subsidy of $25,000,000 and 25,000,000 acres of land, the larger portion of which was practically worthless then, owing to its inaccessibility. This land grant has been frequently quoted as a munificent gift to the Company by the people of Canada. Its greatly enhanced value, however, is attributable to the inauguration of a liberal immigration policy by the C.P.R. and the expenditure of millions of dollars in advertising and peopling the land. In its early days, the company was at times sorely pressed financially, but through wise administration and careful management, its difficulties completely disappeared and to-day—well, it’s the “C.P.R.,” of which in former times its worst detractors at home were when abroad the loudest boasters about its marvellous success.

The policy of the company has of necessity been somewhat broader, by reason of the variety of its activities, than that of a purely railway enterprise, and, under Lord Mount Stephen, Sir William Van Horne and Lord Shaughnessy, its affairs have been administered with what Sir John Willison terms “A Nation Vision,” and this is largely responsible not only for the company’s own success, but for the unique position which it occupies in Canada and abroad. In fact, it was due largely to this broadness of view that the company’s prestige in America, England and Europe has reached such a high pinnacle. If there was anything necessary to add to this it was the extra-ordinarily important work which the company was privileged to do during the late war, involving activities so numerous as to be beyond the scope of any ordinary enterprise. The company had more points of contact with the war than any other enterprise outside of Great Britain.

It is now in the fortieth year of its existence, and has had four presidents during that period—Lord Mount Stephen, who occupied the position for seven years; Sir William Van Horne for eleven years, Lord Shaughnessy for nineteen years; and the present incumbent for two and a half years.

The company was fortunate in possessing chief executives whose personal qualities and official abilities were such as to make them specially fitted for the problems which had to be met during their particular term of office. It is safe to say, however, that the problems of to-day are without parallel in the previous history of the company, and therefore require different methods and different men.

The policy of the future will be an extension of the policies of the past, namely that the company should be a good citizen of Canada, which means contributing to Canada’s advancement and its own success, and taking, as it always has, its share of the country’s burden. In this democratic age it is possible that methods may be adopted which would not be thought of in previous times. It is certain that the company and its patrons will be closer together than ever before, because a greater mutual understanding is necessary if the unique problems of the present time are to be dealt with satisfactorily.

Historically, that’s pretty nearly all that is going to be said about the Canadian Pacific Railway, except that when rail communication was established between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans in November, 1886, the company had 4,306 miles of track. To-day it operates or controls more than 18,000 miles. That’s going some. But it’s not all. A magnificent ocean service has been established on the Atlantic and the Pacific, and on the inland lakes and rivers of Canada its craft ply. It has become the “World’s Greatest Highway,” carrying the traffic of three continents. It lodges and feeds globe-trotters, so that a person may travel from Great Britain to China and Japan exclusively under its protecting care, on its trains, ships and hotels. It has developed fishing, mining, agricultural, immigration, forestry and other resources and industries. It is not a mere transportation company, as all railways were before its construction. It is an Empire builder.

Let me speak now of those courageous captains of industry to whose activities and counsel are due the great success which has crowned their indefatigable efforts to make the Canadian Pacific the wonder of the world.

George Stephen—now Lord Mount Stephen—who came to Montreal from Scotland, an unknown youth, was its first president. He was an earnest worker and a wise counsellor, as was his fellow director, R. B. Angus. In all the hazardous conditions and financial worries of his presidency he never lost heart. He, with his co-workers, pledged their entire fortunes to ensure the company’s very existence. There were dark days, darker perhaps than the world will ever realize, with apparently a hopeless future to face, but their courage never failed them. Their grandest monument is the C.P.R.

Lord Mount Stephen was possessed of that caution which is proverbial of the Scotch. His was a broad mind and a far-seeing vision, dependable in any emergency; self-sacrificing and thoughtful of others. He was of a modest, retiring disposition and his favorite sport was fishing in his salmon pools in New Brunswick. Like infinitely few others he did not accumulate his great wealth exclusively for his own personal enjoyment, but years ago generously gave large sums and valuable properties to those of his kin. None were overlooked. He is spending the evening of his life at Brocket Hall in his native land. His large statue in Windsor Street station is a testimony of his life’s work—a mute reminder for years to come that to him Canada owes a debt of gratitude it never can repay.

The C.P.R. once had a temporary president in the person of Rev. Father Lacombe, O.M.I., the well-beloved missionary of the farther west. The arrival of the first through train from Winnipeg to Calgary was the occasion. At luncheon in President Stephen’s private car, at which were several directors and Father Lacombe, it was playfully suggested that in recognition of his invaluable services during the building of the road through an unknown country, largely peopled by savages, the good priest should be elevated to the presidency of the C.P.R. An emergency meeting of the directors was hastily called. Mr. Stephen resigned his office, and Father Lacombe was elected in his stead. His term of office lasted exactly one hour, during which he installed Mr. Van Horne as general manager, but did not enunciate any particular policy, and gracefully retired without drawing his salary. Then Mr. Stephen was reinstalled as president.

Prominent amongst the men connected with the construction and completion of the C.P.R. was Sir William Van Horne, who was the first general manager of the road, and afterwards succeeded Sir George Stephen in the presidency. To splendid personal executive ability, indomitable perseverance and wide experience are largely due the great successes which crowned his unceasing labors. Sir William was unconventionality personified, and whether in his palatial residence in Montreal or at his desk or in his private car, was a perfect host.

He was a man of great versatility—a railroad organizer, practical engineer, surveyor, electrician, antiquarian, painter, author, geologist, botanist and student of history and men and a mind-reader. He generally was seen in private with a long Havana cigar in his mouth, and he usually accentuated his language by extra big puffs of circling cigar smoke. The construction of the C.P.R. within five years of its inception now seems to have been an impossible task, but it was accomplished, and accomplished under frequently most discouraging conditions. After he had resigned the presidency in 1899, instead of retiring from active life, he built another line of railway which traversed the island of Cuba.

Sir William loved to indulge in reminiscenses, and dwell on the hardships of early days. One story he delighted in telling was of the dark days of ’84, when Jack Frost had played hob with the wheat crop of the west. Grain was selling at a mere song and to increase the price, Alex Mitchell, an experienced grain man of Montreal, was sent up to Winnipeg by the C.P.R., but not publicly as a representative of the company. On his arrival, prices took a jump upwards and he bought and bought and kept on buying until all the available storage facilities could hold no more, and the wheat was stacked in bags or dumped in huge piles at stations. The enemies of the C.P.R.—and there were lots of kickers in those days—not knowing the circumstances—had these piles of wheat photographed, and sent all over the country to show the awful extremity of the farmers and their ill-treatment by the C.P.R. And—yes, it was C.P.R. wheat all the time.

When the Riel rebellion broke out in the early spring of ’85 the C.P.R. was not completed and the troops from the east could not be sent through the United States. The gaps between the two ends of the track on the north shore of Lake Superior aggregated many miles, and the weather was severe. But Sir William’s genius was greatly in evidence. He ordered all the construction gangs to make their sleighs as comfortable as possible with straw and blankets, and established camps at convenient distances, where coffee and a bite to eat were freely dispensed. Without any particular hardship the eastern volunteers were carried over the gap, and the much-needed reinforcements to the western troops hurriedly forwarded, by which means the rebellion was more quickly suppressed.

Having a keen sense of humor, once he built a spur-line from near the station at Winnipeg, to Silver Heights, a summer residence of Sir Donald Smith, afterwards Lord Strathcona. When that personage arrived one day shortly after, and wanted to leave the car at Winnipeg, he was asked to remain. When the special train ran over the new track for a while Sir Donald noticed familiar objects, and when he reached Silver Heights, he grasped his head and wondered if he had gone crazy. He couldn’t understand that where there had been no railway track before there was one now.

Jimmy French was Sir William’s faithful porter on the private car “Saskatchewan,” and Jimmy was a character. One day, down at St. John, en route to Sydney, Cape Breton, a couple of newspaper reporters unceremoniously rushed into the car seeking an interview and met Jimmy.

“Where’s Sir William, and where is he going?”

“Don’ you peoples know that a privat’ cah’s a man’s house, and you wouldn’t go inta a genleman’s house without rappin’, now would ya?” indignantly demanded Jimmy.

The reporters mollified him, and then Jimmy enlightened them: “Don’ know where Sir William is, but I do know he’s goin’ down fishin’ to Great Britain.”

Another time when Hon. Edward Blake, who had been retained by the company in an important case in British Columbia, accompanied Sir William in his car to the Pacific coast, Jimmy, whose ordinary language was somewhat lurid, had been warned not to use any cuss words in Mr. Blake’s presence, as he was a very religious man, and abhorred profanity. All went well, until at a divisional point in the west, the car was being watered. By some accident, the water went the wrong way, and instead of filling the tanks, deluged Jimmy, who thereupon broke out in a violent torrent of abuse and consigned the culprit to the lowest depths of the sultry place, where, they say, there is eternal punishment. The air was blue. Being over-heard, he was taken to task for his pyrotechnical language, and ordered by Sir William to apologize to Mr. Blake. Jimmy was in a bad fix, and thought thoughts, but didn’t go near Mr. Blake. Finally he was commanded to apologize, and he went meekly to Mr. Blake and penitently began the apology.

LORD STRATHCONA—LORD MOUNT STEPHEN—SIR WILLIAM VAN HORNE

“I’m sorry, Mistah Blake, that I swore and cussed as I did, an’ I’ve gotta ’pologize, but ye see, Mistah Blake, that blankety, blank son of a black, blank his blank eyes, soaked me good an’ hard wif’ his blankety blank ol’ water an’—”

But he got no further, for Mr. Blake, convulsed with laughter, said it was all right. And Jimmy told me afterwards that it was a hell of an apology.

When the passenger service of the C.P.R. was inaugurated, the citizens of Montreal, Toronto, Ottawa and other large centres were puzzled and astonished one morning on seeing numerous billboards decorated with streamers on which were printed: “Said the Prince to the Duke: ‘How high we live on the C.P.R.’ ” and “What the Duke said to the Prince: ‘All sensible people travel by the C.P.R.’ ” “Parisian Politeness on the C.P.R.” “Great Salome on the C.P.R.” “Wise Men of the East Go West on the C.P.R.” and “By Thunder-Bay passes the C.P.R.,” the final four words of the latter being in comparatively small type.

They created quite a little stir at the time, being something novel in advertising. Twenty-five years later an advertising man recalled the advertisements and gave as his opinion that they were no good, and also intimated that they were really idiotic. “And yet you remember them for a quarter of a century?” I asked. “They must have been pretty good advertising.”

And they were.

At the time that Sir William Van Horne was constructing his railroad in Cuba, the “Foracker Resolution” was in force, and its terms prohibited any public concession to build railroads or other public works during the life of the U.S. Interventory Government. In spite of this, however, Sir William went ahead with the Cuba railroad, by getting private right-of-way agreements with owners of land over which the railroad was to run. He skipped all public roads and lands, and at the conclusion of the office of the Interventory Government, the Cuban Administration authorized the road so that the missing stretches were constructed, and the road went into operation almost immediately.

When Sir William was constructing this railroad, he decided to install a typical railroad hotel in Camaguey, and with his keen eye for detail he had an idea for its decoration.

“Why not fit up one of the parlors,” said he, “with panellings of the beautiful native woods of the island? It seems to me that such a room would interest visitors greatly, and give a handsome effect.”

His suggestion was carried out to the letter. Next time he arrived in Camaguey the hotel was practically complete, and Sir William recollected his hardwood room and expressed a desire to see it. There was a singular lack of enthusiasm on the part of the officials, and they didn’t make any effort to hurry out Sir William, who was deaf, dumb and blind to the beauty of the weather, the excellence of the service, and the sudden death of anybody’s great-grandmother. He wanted to see that hardwood room, and with drooping eyes and ears, everybody, checkmated, led him to it.

It had been panelled in all the different varieties of beautiful native hardwoods, according to schedule, from ceiling to floor. It had given a beautiful effect, as Sir William had foreseen. And then a gang of native painters, putting finishing touches on halls and corridors, had wandered in, observed its painlessness, and given it two heavy coats of ivory white.

Like the black on a colored person, it wouldn’t wash off, and ivory-white that parlor still is and provoked Sir William’s great disgust to his dying day.

When Sir William passed away, there was general sorrow, and a feeling that in his death Canada and the world had lost a great man whose name will live in history.

T. G. Shaughnessy was the natural and logical successor to the presidency. He had made a name and acquired distinction in railway circles through the great purchasing system which he formulated, and which, by the way, was adopted by the city of New York. It had been a life’s study with him, and beginning at the age of fifteen with the Milwaukee road, he quickly rose in the service and was selected in 1882 to take charge of the purchasing department of the C.P.R. In two years he was made assistant to the general manager, and in five became assistant to the president. In 1891 he became a director and vice-president. Then came the presidency to him in less than eight years, and with it honors from the King, who created him a Knight Bachelor, a Knight Commander of the Victorian Order, and greatest of all, a Peer of the Realm—Baron Shaughnessy, K.C.V.O., of Montreal, Canada, and of Ashford, County Limerick, Ireland. In another way he has gained an equally high distinction in that of being “the greatest living Canadian,” as he is claimed to be by those who, knowing him best, appreciate his many estimable qualities of head and heart, his great executive ability, his unerring business judgment, his untiring energy, and his undoubted honesty and integrity. He ever enjoyed the fullest confidence of his board of directors and of his subordinates, and was always “the court of last resort” in cases of disagreement between the company and its employees, owing to his high sense of honor and fair play.

While Lord Shaughnessy has acquired wealth, it was not for money alone he labored unceasingly, but from an earnest and honest endeavor to benefit Canada, through making his railroad a powerful factor in its development. Many instances could be given where the interests of the country overshadowed those of the company, and Lord Shaughnessy never hesitated a moment as to what course to pursue when duty called. For instance, during the continued strikes some years ago in the western coal mines, there was every prospect of a dire scarcity of coal on the prairies. Regardless of cost, he instructed that hundreds of thousands of tons of Pennsylvania anthracite should be purchased and distributed at advantageous points to furnish the settlers with fuel should the threatened shortage materialize. Fortunately, the strikes were called off just in time to avert the impending catastrophe, but to ensure the settlers an ample supply, the C.P.R. refused to buy the cheaper coal at the mines, and utilized its own more costly supply. And this cost the company a round million of dollars. But it would have saved many a settler from perishing on the prairies had not the strikes been settled.

Maintaining the strictest discipline, usually dignified, he was one of the kindest of men, and frequently looked leniently upon the errors of omission and commission of those under him. His generosity was unbounded, and in helping many a “lame dog over the stile”—well, that was a matter solely between the benefactor and the benefited. His home life has always been an ideal one, with Lady Shaughnessy an able and kindly helpmate, and dutiful children to brighten the hearth. But, as in the case of many another household, keen, bitter sorrow has entered. I shall never forget when the news came of the tragic death of his son, Fred, who lost his life in the defence of his country in France in 1916, how rapidly the heart-broken father had aged, and how sympathetically he grasped my hand, and with tear-dimmed eyes recalled memories of the dead boy, of whom I, too, was especially fond. Poor, dear Fred, his memory will linger long with many, for he was a bright cheerful lad—we always looked upon him as a boy—with many admirable qualities. Nor shall I ever forget his coming to me when he was in the service of the C.P.R., and bemoaning his fate. “It’s awful,” he would say to me, “to be the president’s son. Of course, I don’t mind obeying the rules and regulations of the company, and I work the same hours as anybody else, but hang it all, it’s a constant complaint that I am favored because I am the president’s son, when, perhaps, I am favored less than the others. Why, father wouldn’t allow it. I am going to quit.”

And he did.

Of a naturally modest, retiring disposition, except when aggressiveness demanded other qualities, Lord Shaughnessy disliked the limelight into which his prominence in social and business circles forced him, and I doubt if he did not enjoy a quiet game of solitaire or a few hours on the links far better than he did the great glittering banqueting board or other public festivities. He is an ideal host, and enjoys having companionable people with him. I remember meeting him one morning when the Eucharistic Congress was being held in Montreal. He wore a bright cheery smile and laughingly remarked: “Yes, I had a very pleasant morning. Met Cardinal Gibbons and Archbishop Ireland at the station and drove them to my house. When we arrived there, the Cardinal kindly remarked, ‘Make yourself at home, Shaughnessy, we are.’ ”

It was that little touch of human nature that appealed to him.

Although closely and prominently connected with many public movements, especially those of a patriotic and charitable character, an exceptionally able and forcible speaker, with a full knowledge of the world’s affairs, Lord Shaughnessy could never be induced to enter political life, although he was frequently approached with tempting offers to devote himself to public affairs. He could have at different times been a Cabinet Minister or the leader of the Opposition, but he invariably declined. The presidency of the C.P.R. was the height of his ambition. Besides, between you and me, his ideas of how governments should be run—on strictly business principles—would probably not have retained the staunch support of the practical politician and the ward healer and others of that stripe. This incident may give an idea of his attitude:

BARON SHAUGHNESSY, K.C.V.O.

In 1911, several weeks before the general election, a telegram—prompted, no doubt, by the appearance of Sir William Van Horne at several of the Conservative meetings—was received from an Ontario news agency. It read:

“Sir Thos. Shaughnessy,

Montreal.

“Reported here that ‘C.P.’ behind anti-reciprocity movement. Is this correct?”

Without a moment’s hesitation the following reply was dictated and sent off:

“Yes! ‘C.P.’ behind anti-reciprocity movement—‘Canadian People.’ T. G. Shaughnessy.”

He held pronounced views on the temperance question, and, while not by any means a total abstainer, believed that intoxicants should be greatly restricted and sparingly used. When the MontrealWitnessattacked the C.P.R. for selling liquor on its dining-cars, I called upon my good friend, John Dougall, the editor of that paper, and explained that the flask had almost entirely disappeared from the smoking-rooms in the trains through passengers being able to get a drink in the diner. It was the same old story of Adam and Eve and the forbidden fruit. My argument was that the C.P.R. was as great a temperance reformer as any temperance organization, for no trainman was allowed to go on his run if there was the slightest taint of liquor on his breath, and sobriety was required of all employees when on duty. Besides, when one happened to fall from grace, he was called on the carpet, and a repetition of his offence was punished with dismissal. Then I instanced that once, out at Moose Jaw, when Lord Shaughnessy saw some trainmen entering the bar at the company’s hotel, he called to Sir William Whyte: “Whyte close that bar.” Several hours passed and Lord Shaughnessy noticed that the bar was still open. Calling Sir William, he sharply said: “Whyte, I told you to close that bar. Why wasn’t it closed?”

“I am going to do so to-night at closing time.”

“No, you’re not. Close it now.”

And it was closed instanter.

With the sole object of encouraging the thoroughbred horse industry in the Province of Quebec, Lord Shaughnessy not only became a member of the then newly-formed Montreal Jockey Club, but also imported a fashionably-bred race mare. Although highly recommended this mare “Silk Hose” finished in most of her races a very bad last. In one when she had galloped past the stand probably thirty lengths behind the other starters, Charles M. Hays, then president of the G.T.R., who was standing beside Lord Shaughnessy, remarked, “That’s a fast mare you have, Shaughnessy.”

“Yes,” replied Lord Shaughnessy, “she’s about as fast as a Grand Trunk train.”

After her unsuccessful racing career, “Silk Hose” was placed in the stud. Her first foal, a filly named “Lisle Hose,” seemed to inherit the mother’s hoo-doo. She became ill as a yearling; was sick as a two-year-old, and the following season—died. The morning after she “kicked out,” Tom Callary, his secretary, told his lordship that he had bad news for him. “What is it?” he asked. “The trainer has just told me that the filly died last night—”

“That’s not bad news,” replied Lord Shaughnessy. “That’s good news; we won’t have to feed the blessed thing any longer, will we?”

When her second foal—this one a colt—became sick also as a two-year-old, and was thereby unable to race; and when, the following spring—unlike the maple trees—he did not show the least inclination to run, Lord Shaughnessy told Callary to do whatever he pleased with the colt. This colt, that had been named “Silk Bird,” eventually got to the races. Before the first start his secretary informed Lord Shaughnessy that he thought the colt had a good chance to win.

“What is it,” asked his lordship, “a walking race?”

He never could be persuaded to make a bet, remarking on one occasion “that he wouldn’t bet on that horse even if it were alone in the race.” And yet this colt, probably the best thoroughbred raised in the Province of Quebec, won, not only his first start but also nine or ten other races, including the King’s Plate of 1916. But the winnings of that season, that should have gone to recoup the losses sustained during the several lean years, were distributed under his Lordship’s direction, to the hospitals and charitable institutions most in need at the time. Many people must have wondered when they saw the name “Silk Bird” amongst the lists of subscribers, more especially as the contributions were rather “hefty.” And then to cap all, and, as it were, to make it unanimous, his Lordship gave away the colt.

As I stated previously, Lord Shaughnessy absolutely refused to bet on the chances of his colt, but there were employees by the score who backed “the C.P.R. horse,” (as he was known throughout the country) at every start. And as he won with prices ranging against him from “evens” to as high as forty-to-one, his supporters, unlike his owner, came out well ahead. No better indication could be had of the loyalty to, and affection for, “the big boss,” than by the manner in which all those under his Lordship pulled so whole-heartedly and so consistently, in good years and in bad, for the success of the Shaughnessy colors—old gold and scarlet—whenever and wherever they appeared on the Canadian tracks. On race days the secretary was bombarded with telephone calls from vice-presidents right down to call boys, enquiring as to the colt’s chances, his condition, the name of the jockey, etc., etc. But Lord Shaughnessy knew nothing of this very important feature of his secretary’s duties.

When Lord Shaughnessy relinquished the presidency, he became chairman of the board, and is to be found in his office every week-day when in town, maintaining an active interest in the affairs of the company. When his successor was appointed, Lord Shaughnessy, much to Mr. Beatty’s chagrin, insisted upon changing offices with him, and the new president reluctantly took possession of the more pretentious quarters. The next day there was a presentation of a silver shield which Lord Shaughnessy had given to the Order of St. John’s Ambulance Association. It took place in the board room of the Windsor Street Station. The ex-president was a few minutes late, and he cheerfully apologized, quaintly adding: “But it makes no difference. I am only a supernumerary now.” And that showed the kind of man Lord Shaughnessy is.

Beloved by all, with an affection that permeates the ranks from the higher to the lower grades, still in harness, Lord Shaughnessy’s evening of life is pleasantly passed, and the hope is fervently expressed, not only by those who have grown grey in the service, but by thousands of others, that the “T.G.” of years ago, of “Mr. President,” of “Sir Thomas” and “My Lord” will long remain to be the “guide, philosopher and friend” of those, who, like myself, have learned his actual worth, fully realize the true nobility of his character, and fondly cherish the inspiring memories of his unfailing loyalty and deep-rooted affection and friendship.

Hats off to the Chief, boys, hats off!

If I were writing an article about a man, in which I was desirous of exposing the intimate characteristics not generally known, I think I would start with the fundamentals of character, ability and the most obsolete virtue of modesty. I would then pass on to the consideration of other personal qualities, such as humanness, sense of humor and magnetism, and I would tell the extent to which they existed in the subject of the sketch. The next step would be to give instances indicating the possession of the characteristics described, and, if anything further were necessary, I would allow the reader to assume some of the characteristics from the number of activities not connected with his official position that he indulged in.

There is a great deal to be said of the presiding genius of the C.P.R. in this way. To be the youngest president of the greatest transportation company in the world is something to be proud of. But Edward Wentworth Beatty would be the very last one to boast of that or any of the other high honors that have been showered upon him. Why his head wasn’t turned at the overwhelming, fulsome flattery and never-ending high compliments and congratulations and beautiful bouquets that were lavishly thrown at him by voice and pen, is a wonder to those who do not know the man. It could be said that a mighty big percentage of ordinary humanity would have at once affected an English accent, donned a monocle and taken to spats. He didn’t even flicker an eyelash. He must have attended scores upon scores of schools in his youth, and spent most of his time playing football all over the universe, for I have met a mighty multitude of his school-fellows, and a regular regiment of brother chasers of the pigskin, every blessed one of whom claims to know him well. All this doesn’t faze him either. He keeps on the even tenor of his way serenely, familiarly calls his close associates by their first names and is far more approachable than the average man in a similar position of lofty responsibilities. High honors have not affected him in the slightest. He has the same old familiar spirit of his youth and early manhood, with all the same kindly good-natured characteristics and the same creditable creed——to do well whatever there is to be done. He is the “Prince Eddie of Wales of the C.P.R. and of Canada.”

Born in Thorold, Ontario, on October 16, 1877, his father being Henry Beatty, a well-known steamboat man on the Great Lakes, whose steamers of the Beatty Line were amongst the pioneers of navigation on those inland waters, his early youth was spent at Thorold, where he was an apt scholar in the town school. At ten years of age his family moved to Toronto where he attended the Model School, Harbord Collegiate, Toronto University and Osgoode Hall, and in 1898 was articled as a law student with the law firm of McCarthy, Osler, Hoskin & Creelman. On the appointment of the last named as chief counsel of the C.P.R. at Montreal in 1901, Mr. Beatty went with him and five years later was appointed his assistant. He was elevated to the chief solicitorship in 1910. Four years later, on the retirement of Mr. Creelman, he succeeded to the office of chief counsel, and also made a vice-president of the company. Mr. Beatty’s high ability had already been fully recognized, and on Lord Shaughnessy’s retirement, he was chosen to succeed him. Everyone will candidly admit that it is a difficult task to fill Lord Shaughnessy’s shoes, but the ex-president will as candidly admit that they fit his successor admirably.

E. W. BEATTY, K.C.President of the C.P.R.

The president makes no pretence to oratory, but he is a forceful public speaker, who says what he means clearly and succinctly, and has the magnetism to hold his audience deeply interested. The kind of speech that he makes is one that is frequently punctuated with applause, and his enthusiastic reception on rising is invariably magnified into an ovation when he closes his peroration. He always catches the crowd. He has no fads, and, well, he just has an old head on young shoulders. He still enjoys witnessing athletic sports which he indulged in during his boyhood days, likes a good play at the theatre, though I am afraid grand opera may be a little too much for him, delights in a horse race, and plays solitaire and other card games which require four or more players. He still pays the bachelor tax, and I don’t believe he would refuse a drink of Scotch in Quebec or British Columbia, but he wouldn’t chase off to Mexico or Cuba to get one. His politics are “Canada and the Canadian Pacific Railway.” He enjoys the unbounded confidence of his large circle of friends, and the 100,000 officials and employees of the company look to him as one pre-eminently fitted to fill the high position which came to him because of his great personality, clean forceful character, and his many estimable qualities of head and heart.

Amongst the old guard of the C.P.R. the name of David McNicoll will long be remembered. He was with the company almost since its inception, joining the staff in 1883. He had previous railway experience in Scotland and in Canada, to which country he came when a young man, and when he joined the C.P.R., at the age of thirty-one years, his energy and ambition found the vent they could not find in the positions he had previously occupied. Passenger agent, passenger traffic manager, assistant general manager, vice-president and general manager, he graduated from the comparatively humble position to that in which he exerted plenary authority, and always to the advantage of the company.

His judgment was sound, his observation keen, his knowledge of the C.P.R. in all its ramifications remarkable; his perspicacity notable. Close to his desk was a series of maps. These he studied by the hour when a policy of expansion was to be decided upon. He knew every bit of rail on the system; he made the west his familiar companion; he was wedded to the great corporation to which he gave his best powers. A tireless worker, he never spared himself, and mastered even the minutest detail in all his labors, and it was this constant attention to his duties that broke his health. While generous to a fault, he had full possession of the proverbial Scotch thrift, so that no one was surprised when it was told of him that in a certain office there were five clerks and only four desks, and another desk was required, he wanted to know if it wouldn’t be better to fire the extra clerk instead of buying a new desk. He had also Scotch reliance and determination, and was a hard man to bluff.

A bank manager, with a real or fancied grievance, angrily bounced into his office one day and threatened that if a certain thing wasn’t done and done P.D.Q., he would give orders that not a single passenger or pound of freight, or express parcel or telegraph message would be given to the C.P.R.

“Well, sir,” replied Mr. McNicoll, “Just let me know when you issue that order, will you, and I’ll issue an order to all C.P.R. agents to refuse the bills of your confounded old bank.”

The bank manager discreetly pulled in his horns.

Mr. McNicoll was one of the builders of the C.P.R., and he should be accorded a fair measure of the glory which attaches to those who helped to bring the company up to its present proud position.

Prominent among the high officials is I. G. Ogden, who is known as the financial genius of the C.P.R. During his long connection with the company, dating from 1881, forty years ago, when he started as auditor on western lines, with headquarters at Winnipeg, until to-day, when he is vice-president in charge of finances, Mr. Ogden has steadily risen in official positions. In 1883 he was appointed auditor for the entire system, in 1887 was comptroller, and in 1901 became vice-president. There is no more popular official in the company’s service, and many a grateful heart there is for his help in hour of financial depression. Of his abilities—why, he wouldn’t have been where he is if he were not big enough for the job. Of course, he is not as young as he used to be, but his years fall lightly upon him, and he trips along the corridors as if he were a care-free lad, and tackles large questions with a full knowledge of the details and great comprehension of his responsibility.

“I.G.,” whose initials on the corner of a cheque and at the bottom of many a pay roll have disseminated happiness and sunshine to thousands, was honored by having the immense Ogden works near Calgary named after him. He doesn’t take very many holidays, but when he does the waters of the Rideau Lakes are considerably lowered by the big catches he pulls out at his camp on the shores of that lake. Mr. Ogden has always surrounded himself by capable men like John Leslie, the kindly and always tactful Comptroller, W. J. Moule, whose untimely death was a distinct loss to the Company, H. L. Penny, Ernie Lloyd, J. H. Shearing, C. J. Flanagan, Jim Steele, Charley Black, the late F. E. Shrimpton, G. C. Gahan; the affable and evergreen George Jackson, W. J. Percival, W. H. Langridge, H. J. Dalton, W. M. Taylor, E. J. Bulgin, W. H. Blackaller, W. J. Sudcliffe, E. Emery, W. J. Cherry, B. Arnum, R. Urwin, and others who have grown old or are getting gray-haired in the Accounting department.

In the early evening of his life—because years do not always make age with some—he is as genial and jovial as ever, with a keen appreciation of the humorous. His frequent sallies always provoke laughter. One of his best was when some time after the formation of the Montreal millionaire club, the Mount Royal, which led to the desertion of some of the habitués of the well-known fashionable St. James’ Club for the new attraction, one day a friend, who had been conspicuous by his absence from the St. James and presence at the Mount Royal, dropped in casually at the former, and when Mr. Ogden saw him gaily greeted him with, “Hello, old man, slumming again?”

I. G. OGDEN D. McNICHOLLR. B. ANGUS

Mr. Ogden is an indefatigable worker, and seldom is away from his office unless called to New York or elsewhere on business—or to Rideau Lake.

There could be no warmer friend or congenial spirit or lovable companion than William Stitt, general passenger agent of the C.P.R., who represented the company in Winnipeg and Montreal and for several years in Sydney, Australia. He had a great personality, was generous to a fault, and had a happy knack of making and keeping friends. A pleasant-faced Scotchman from Kirkcudbrightshire, which he always contended I could never pronounce properly, though I could—“Kirk-cu-brig-sheer”—he was happily mentioned by a lady writer in one of the Australian papers upon leaving that country: “No man could possibly be as innocent as William Stitt looks.” That was William to a T. Full of Scotch wit, always affable, and pleasant spoken, he had gained the undying friendship of a host of friends, amongst whom was myself. Circumstances frequently brought us together in our work in Windsor Street Station and on the road. To tell all our experiences would require a volume by itself, but a few incidents should be recalled:

Once we were occupying a drawing-room on the C.P.R. train to Quebec. During the night, I went to the toilet, and the opening of the door awakened him.

“What time is it, George?” he drowsily asked.

“It’s 4.10, Weelum,” I replied. I always called him “Weelum” after the character in “Bunty Pulls the Strings.”

Weelum immediately resumed his slumbers, but I didn’t, and after tossing around for half-an-hour or so, I grabbed him by the hand—he was sleeping opposite me—and cried, “Weelum, Weelum, wake up.”

He accommodatingly did, and then I very seriously said to him: “Weelum, do you know that when I said it was 4.10 it wasn’t. It was 4.15.”

“Oh, go to blazes, you old heathen yon. What did you want to wake me up for to tell me that?”

“Weelum, say, Weelum,”—but he would not listen to what I had to say.

Finally I managed to make him hear me, and I explained that I had been brought up by good God-fearing parents, who had admonished me never to go to sleep with a lie on my lips, and that my conscience wouldn’t let me sleep until I had confessed my sin.

His unmistakable directions as to my immediate destination, which wasn’t Quebec, were forcibly given, and to the sweet music of his impassioned declamation as to the innumerable varieties of a blithering idiot that I was, I peacefully fell asleep, while his continued sarcastic remarks were rendered inaudible by the roar of the wheels.

On another occasion, we were out in James Oborne’s private car through the Muskoka country. James, as you know, besides being general superintendent of the C.P.R. was a total abstainer, and as pernickety as they make them on the liquor question. As James and I were sitting together one morning in the rear end of the car, Weelum’s name came up incidentally, and I remarked quite off-hand-like:

“Weelum is a grand man, a nature’s nobleman, but—but—”

“But, what?” demanded James.

“Oh, I don’t like to tell, but, between you and me, Weelum crooks his elbow too much.”

James was astounded; it wasn’t possible, and he wanted to know if he drank very heavily.

“Like a fish,” I mendaciously retorted.

Just then Weelum entered, and James Oborne immediately informed him of what I had told him.

“Oborne,” said Weelum, “did he say that? And I suppose he told you he never touched a drop himself. Oh, but he’s an awful liar. Did you notice how frequently he goes into his bedroom?” And James bowed affirmatively. “Well, the old villain has a bottle of Scotch in there. That’s why. Do you know that the last time he was in my place, he drank up every drop of liquor there was in the house?”

James reproachfully looked at me and silently awaited some sort of an explanation.

“It’s true, James, alas, it’s only too true,” I unblushingly remarked. “But he hasn’t told you the whole story. You know what a charming woman Mrs. Stitt is. Now, I leave it to you, James, I leave it to you, what would you do if a lovely woman like Mrs. Stitt came up and put her arms around your neck and with tears streaming down her rosy cheeks would say to you: ‘For goodness’ sake, George, drink up all the whiskey there is in this house, or William will have the D.T.’s?”

Mr. Oborne was completely obfuscated, and to the day of his death was undecided whether I was an inveterate liar or William a confirmed drunkard.

Don’t think I got the best of it every time. Weelum generally evened up on me. One day at a little gathering, somebody or other remarked that everybody knew me and that I knew everybody.

“Nothing of the sort,” says Weelum. “Not a word of truth in it. He’s an awful faker. Why I went to see some prominent people who were about to make a trip to the coast, and I told them that George would be on the train, but they didn’t know him at all. I called in the colored porter, and explained that this party was going out, but that George Ham would be on the train, and to see him about them. The porter said: ‘George Ham—who is he? Never heard of him.’ ”

And Weelum led in the laughter in which everybody joined.

When Weelum passed away suddenly on April 1st four years ago, I was in Los Angeles, and could not sleep the previous night. There was a premonition of impending misfortune haunting me, so I hurried to the local C.P.R. office next morning where Polly—Mr. A. A. Polhamus—handed me two telegrams. While I am nearly as blind as a bat without spectacles, I hastily and distinctly read the despatches without glasses. One was from Charlie Foster, saying that Mr. Stitt was dangerously ill; the other of later sending was from my secretary, Bessie James, that he had died that morning in Captain Walsh’s office, adjoining mine. I was grief-stricken, and sadly walked over to where Alex. Calder and John McKechnie, two dear old Winnipeg friends of both Weelum and myself, were awaiting me, and wistfully whispered: “William Stitt is dead.” Their sorrowing downcast looks were pathetic. There was a sickening tugging of the heart-strings and tear-dimmed eyes, for we mourned as many another did over the passing away of one of the dearest souls God ever put life in.

Vessels of the C.P.R. plough the waters of two oceans, and I don’t know how many lakes and rivers, but enough to require a large fleet. Let me tell you something about the sailors bold who have been for years in the company’s service, and some of whom distinguished themselves during the great war.

Capt. Troup, now manager of the B.C. coast steamers, was a “swift-water” man whose early training among the rapids of the Columbia River served him in good stead on the Columbia and Kootenay lakes. He has made a wonderful success of our coast fleet, and is still going strong. His able assistant was Capt. Gore, who is now pensioned.

Capt. Rudhlin, who was of the original crew of the Hudson’s Bay Company’sBeaver, the first steamship to ply the waters of the Pacific Ocean, served many years with the C. P. Navigation Company, and after amalgamation with the C.P.R., he was the first commander of the crackPrincess Victoria. Capts. Hickey and Griffin keep the boats on the triangular run going with such regularity in all weather that residents of Vancouver, Victoria and Seattle set their watches by thePrincessboats.

Of the transpacific officers, Capt. Marshall brought theEmpress of Indiaout in 1890, and after successfully sailing her for many years was appointed an Elder Brother of Trinity House, the highest honor open to men of the mercantile marine. Capt. Lee commanded theAbyssinia, when first chartered for the China trade, and took theEmpress of Japan, when built in 1891, and had great success with her until his retirement on a well-earned pension.

Capt. Harry Mowatt fitted out theAthenianfor the Skagway trade when the Klondyke firs opened up. He made a wonderful record for his ship as a horse and troop transport to the Philippines during the Spanish-American war, and went to Liverpool as marine superintendent when the Atlantic Steamships Line was inaugurated in 1903, where he did yeoman service during the early anxious years of the new venture.

Capt. William Stewart, a fine example of the old school North Atlantic skipper, was in command of theLake Champlainwhen first acquired by the company. He took over theEmpress of Britain, when built. Originally a ship’s carpenter, he helped to build and was the first commander of the barqueLake Simcoe. She was also his first ship. Going home on theBritainon his last voyage before retirement a vessel on fire was sighted. Approaching closer, the barque was found to be abandoned but was identified as theLake Simcoe. He and his first ship ended their career together.

Capt. Frank Casey, first commander of theEmpress of Ireland, with a humorous cock to his eye and the most delightfully soft Irish brogue, was popular with passengers and greatly beloved by his brother officers. Crossing the banks of Newfoundland in dense fog he could always smell ice, and while he took regulation soundings his officers say it was only a matter of form for he would call the depth and bottom before it was officially reported.

Capt. Murray, who succeeded to theEmpress of Britain, was very popular, highly respected and is deeply regretted. He was killed in the Halifax explosion while engaged in war transport work for the Government.

Capt. Walsh, who was taken over with the Elder Dempster fleet in 1903, still remains as manager of the C.P.O.S. at Montreal. He has sailed the seas over for many a year, and was in the Gold Coast of Africa trade before joining the C.P.R.

And then there was Capt. Evans, “Bully” Evans, not nicknamed as you might suppose, but from his many years of piloting cattle ships. He had a keen sense of humor and a wonderfully hearty and infectious laugh. His gruff, bass voice and sometimes frowning eyebrows, hid one of the kindest hearts that ever beat, and now, alas, it’s stilled for ever.

Capt. Smith sailed the Milwaukee for years. She went a long way in a long time. Early in her career, before his command, she lost her nose in an argument with the east coast of Scotland. The new one supplied by the generous owners served a purpose, but did not add to her speed, and although she was credited with 9.2 on her trials her fair sea average was nearer 2.9. Capt. Smith was heading her out into the broad Atlantic, when a submarine broke water on his starboard bow. He was unarmed save for a ten-foot log of wood he had mounted on the bow, and some detonating caps. Swinging his ship bow on, he trained his “ordnance” and one cap exploded so realistically that the sub. promptly ducked. A few hours later theHesperianwent to the bottom through, it is supposed, the same submarine.

Capt. Boothby, whose brother is the English author, Guy Boothby, and Capt. Hodder, who stood six feet two inches in his stocking feet and weighed three and a half pounds for every inch of his height, were born of the sea. I nearly “beat up” Capt. Hodder once, but explained afterward I had refrained principally on account of his size and his sex. One of his boys was torpedoed three times, and he thought the last time was particularly hard luck as the boy only saved his pyjamas and a red flannel undershirt.

Capt. Gillies brought theKeewatinout from the Clyde on her way to her home on the Upper Lakes. Like Silas Wegg, he occasionally dropped into poetry and could see a joke less slowly than most of his fellow-countrymen. He was less concerned about the subs. than he was about the instructions for avoiding them. His verses on the trials of the commander of a convoyed ship are amusing now, but at the time of writing they contained as much truth as they did poetry.

Capt. Jimmy Turnbull, who served with great distinction in the great war, was decorated, mentioned in despatches, and has since been promoted to the highest commissioned rank in the R.N.R., that of full captain.Multum in parvowith a vengeance.

Capt. Clews, whose jovial face and perennial smile compel a return in kind, was going to New York for a few days, and hearing that except for an uncle he was without friends in the American metropolis, I offered some letters of introduction. On his return, he apologized for not having presented them, but explained he found it impossible to get away from his uncle. Long afterwards it developed that the uncle in question was Henry Clews, the great banker.

Capt. Griffiths, now on theEmpress of Britain, Capt. Griffith Evans, now I think the senior of the Ocean Service shippers, and Capt. Parry, are all fellow countrymen of Lloyd George, and very properly proud of it. Capt. Webster is also well among the seniors, but as fit and hearty as ever. Capt. Kendall, to whom belongs the credit of the capture of Dr. Crippen, Capt. Murray, who was chief officer on theLake Champlainwhen I crossed on her sixteen years ago, bore a gallant part in the action and was severely wounded when theCarmaniasank theCap Trafalgar.

On the Great Lakes Capt. E. B. Anderson was as well known as theManitobawas popular with the travelling public. He never told, if he ever knew, the date of his birth, but it is believed he was nearer eighty than seventy when he retired. It would have required much stronger proof than his appearance to credit him with more than fifty summers.

Capt. Jim McAllister commanded theAlbertafor many years and afterwards lived in Vancouver and Fort William. To the day of his death he stoutly maintained that there not only had never been, but there never could be, the equal of theAlberta.

Capt. Louis Payette was on the bridge of theAssiniboiamaking his ship fast in the Canadian lock one day in 1909 when thePerry Walkersmashed the lock gates and let both theAssiniboiaandCrescent Citydrop down eighteen feet with the full force of Lake Superior behind them. There was an anxious few minutes, but Capt. Payette’s coolness and good seamanship minimized the damage and he was able to finish his voyage with passengers and cargo intact.

All of the five present-day skippers on the Great Lakes were born and brought upon the shores of the wonderful Georgian Bay—a Bay only in name, and in reality one of the Great Lakes and the only one entirely Canadian. Four of them are of Highland Scotch descent and equally at home in Gælic or English, two in fact had their early education in the weird but musical language of their forefathers, and acquired the tongue of the Sassenach in later years. Capt. Malcolm McPhee is very proud of the “Keewatin,” and the reputation he has made for her arrival on the stroke of the clock is a byword on the Lakes. Capt. James McCannell of the “Assiniboia,” is a Scot of Scots, and regrets that the kilt is hardly suitable for the bridge during the November gales on Lake Superior. He has been known to carry a private piper on his crew. Capt. John Mclntyre is one of the seven boys, six of whom are lake captains and first-class seamen all. Capt. Murdoch MacKay is another stalwart specimen of Canadian of Highland descent. His Gælic is fluent and very useful during moments of stress when ladies are within hearing. Capt. Frank Davis is of English descent and highly popular with all who travel on the good ship “Manitoba”. Built in Owen Sound, she retains the connection with the original home port of the fleet and calls each week during the season to pay her respects to the beautiful city of the Sound.

There are so many of the first and second brigades of the C.P.R. men who did yeoman service in building up the company in its earlier days when everything was not so roseate as it is to-day, that to recall them all would make this article look like the register of the heavenly choir. A great deal more could be said of them than the limits of this writing would permit, but it would be unfair if they were not mentioned. Amongst them are the vice-presidents: W. R. Mclnnes, who has been with the company since 1885, and who has risen from a clerkship in the purchasing department; George M. Bosworth, who joined the staff in 1882, became freight traffic manager and vice-president and is now chairman of the Canadian Pacific Ocean Services; Grant Hall, who dated from 1886, but after a few years’ connection with the I.C.R. returned to his first love and rapidly rose in the service until he reached his present position. A. D. MacTier dates from 1887 as a clerk in the baggage department. He became a stenographer to the general superintendent, and filled other positions: general baggage agent, general fuel agent, assistant to the vice-president, general manager of eastern lines, and finally vice-president. D. C. Coleman came into the company in 1899 as a clerk in the engineering department at Fort William, and afterwards was general superintendent, assistant general manager at Winnipeg, and then his present position. Harry Suckling in 1874 went with the Credit Valley road, and the next year became its secretary-treasurer, local treasurer of the C.P.R. in Toronto in ’83, assistant treasurer at Montreal in ’86, and succeeded Mr. Sutherland as treasurer in 1908—they being the only holders of the office. Fred L. Wanklyn has been chief executive officer for many years. Col. John S. Dennis in 1903 inaugurated the irrigation policy of the company in the west, by which large areas of land were reclaimed. Working from Calgary, with excellent results, he was promoted to the office of assistant to the president in 1912, and is now Chief Commissioner of Colonization and Development. It took a few years for J. S. to make his irrigation venture a success, and during that time he learned the truth of the old adage that “a prophet is not without honor save in his own country.” In 1915 the consulting engineers of the U.S. Department of Agriculture, who made a thorough investigation of the Alberta irrigation project, said, “Some day a grateful people will honor this pioneer empire builder in much the same way as Italy has honored Count Cavour in the valley of the Po.” That time has come to pass, and Col. Dennis has lived to see the success of the scheme which he worked so hard to accomplish.

Robert Randolph Bruce, the “Pioneer of the Happy Valley” (Columbia), one of the picturesque figures of the West, was on the payrolls of the company from ’87 to ’97. He came to Canada straight from Scotland. When he landed in New York and walked up Broadway, bits of purple heather still stuck to his clothes. He had $40 in his jeans and under the vest, and now he’s a mine owner and bloated capitalist. W. B. Lanigan (Billy) commenced work in 1884 with the C.P.R. as a telegraph operator at Sharbot Lake, and got going up the scale rapidly until now, an expert freight man, he is freight traffic manager of all the C.P.R. lines. He was born at Three Rivers, P.Q., the home of Jacques Bureau, M.P., and they were schoolmates, Billy being the model boy, and Jacques nothing of the sort, with the result that Billy naturally gravitated towards the C.P.R., and Jacques just as naturally gravitated towards politics. Associated with Mr. Lanigan are Harry E. Macdonell who has seen service from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Bob Larmour, who has been stationed in the east and the west and the centre—New York, Fort William, Winnipeg and Vancouver—and is now in Montreal. Major William Kirkpatrick, who after many years’ service is now freight traffic manager at Winnipeg. William C. Bowles started as a clerk in the Soo, and now is general freight agent at Winnipeg, E. N. Todd and A. O. Secord at Montreal, H. A. Plough at Nelson, W. B. Bamford at Nelson, B.C., Marsh Brown at Toronto, and Hamilton Abbott, who was the first freight agent at Calgary. H. A. Beasley is another veteran now managing the E. & N. Railway (C.P.R.) in Vancouver Island. A. Hatton has risen to be general superintendent of transportation.

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