t
take a holiday and visit as far west as British Columbia. All of this
he not only arranged freely for us, but even saw to such details as
that we should ride on the engine through the Rocky Mountains, and be
entertained at his home called "Silver Heights" while in Winnipeg. It
was during this trip that I visited "Grenfell Town," a queer little
place called after Pascoe Grenfell, of the Bank of England. The marvel
of the place to me was the thousands and thousands of acres of
splendid farmland on which no one lived. I promised that I would send
the hotel-keeper the Grenfell crest.

Lord Strathcona later presented the Mission with a fine little
steamer, the Sir Donald, purchased and equipped at his expense through
the Committee in Montreal.

We went back to England very well satisfied with our work. Dr. Bobardt
left me and entered the Navy, while I returned the following year and
steamed the new boat from Montreal down the St. Lawrence River and the
Straits to Battle Harbour. There the Albert, which had sailed again
from England with doctors, nurses, and supplies, was to meet me. We
had made a fine voyage, visiting all along the coast as we journeyed,
and had turned in from sea through the last "run," or passage between
islands. We had polished our brass-work, cleaned up our decks, hoisted
our flags, all that we might make a triumphant entry on our arrival a
few minutes later--when suddenly, _Buff--Bur-r--Buff_, we rose,
staggered, and fell over on a horrible submerged shoal. Our side was
gored, our propeller and shaft gone, our keel badly splintered, and
the ship left high and dry. When we realized our mistake and the
dreadful position into which we had put ourselves, we rowed ashore to
the nearest island, walked three or four miles over hill and bog, and
from there got a fisherman with a boat to put us over to Battle
Harbour Island. The good ship Albert lay at anchor in the harbour. Our
new colleagues and old friends were all impatiently waiting to see our
fine new steamer speed in with all her flags up--when, instead, two
bedraggled-looking tramps, crestfallen almost to weeping, literally
crept aboard.

Sympathy took the form of deeds and a crowd at once went round in
boats with a museum of implements. Soon they had her off, and our
plucky schooner took her in tow all the three hundred miles to the
nearest dry-dock at St. John's.

Meanwhile Sir Thomas Roddick, of Montreal, an old Newfoundlander, had
presented u