my fleeting impression of Winnipeg does it in justice—but that is all I saw of it. On IIth March we were passing along Lake Superior, and the following day arrived at Montreal, I exceedingly thankful those dreary six days in that train were over! As we passed through the great plains—impressive in their immensity one heard at every station strong Scottish accents and saw Scottish faces. It is surely the Scot who has made Canada what she is.
Montreal was so deep in snow, houses covered, great mounds of it piled high on either side of the streets, which were so slippery one could scarce keep one's feet, that I formed no definite idea of this handsome city. The cold was terrific, and really, after my 2906 miles of train, I could not rise to any enthusiasm over the place. The people tobogganing did not, however, seem to mind the frigid atmosphere.
The hotel was large, overheated, and contained a strange collection of beings, who afforded some speculation and interest. The people in the shops would not or could not speak English, and as I declined to speak French in a British city I only made one purchase, and was sorry afterwards I made that. It had been my intention to visit the "City of Mackellar," but learning it had only 500 inhabitants, and being pressed for time, I decided to let it grow a little first.
So one night I left Montreal at 8 p.m., spent an uncomfortable night in the train, and arrived at New York at 8.55 in the morning.
I did not like New York, and merely remained a week there till the Majestic sailed for England.
The passengers and the voyage were devoid of interest; and Liverpool, on arrival, was in the throes of a blizzard, so that my home-coming was not particularly cheerful.
