journey—a Mr. Aitken and Captain Farquhar, who had been A.D.C. to Lord Lamington in Queensland. A fellow-passenger,, who had something to do with the railway, came and ordered the negro car-attendants, very brusque personages, to look after us well, and I, particularly, was entrusted to their care. In fact, I was so looked after at Vancouver that I was perfectly confused as to where I was had not had time to even plan out what I wanted to do, but somehow found myself bound for Montreal. I really had had ideas of staying at Vancouver for a time, but just submitted to the attentions of others and allowed myself to be taken about and eventually put on the train, all my "Buts" being interrupted with "That's all right—you come along!"
So at 1 p.m. we started. I soon had a view of Mt. Baker, 14,000 feet high, and we were winding about through tunnels and round spurs, always ascending amidst rivers, forests of magnificent trees, and wild scenery. At North Bend (425 feet) we dined at 5.50 p.m. in the refreshment-room—turkey being the fare. It was very cold outside and the train very warm inside. Till bedtime we climbed about amidst forests and mountains. It was when bedtime came that I first realised that I really knew nothing about this famous C.P.R. line or its ways. I had meant to make myself acquainted with everything in Vancouver. There was a little smoking-room. There were also state rooms, for which you had to pay very large sums, and my companions remonstrated with me when I wanted to hire one of these so I did as they did, and most reluctantly consented to occupy one of the rows of berths in the long cars formed by turning up the seats. Like berths on a ship, there is one above the other, and I took a top one. Curtains hung in front. You had
