Bob Hunt in Canada | Page 4

were lost. I know New York like a book."
"You remind me of a little boy," said Bob. "A policeman found him
wandering round the Pennsylvania Railroad Station and on going up to
him, the little boy said, 'Have you seen my muvver. I think she's got
losted. I can't find her any place.'"
"Ha! ha! Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Pud. "That's good, but I don't see how
you can liken me to a little boy."
"All aboard! all aboard for the Montreal and Eastern Canada Express!"
yelled the crier.
"That means us, fellows," said Bob. "Let's hustle."
The three boys went through the gate and were soon sitting in the
Pullman bound for Quebec.
"That was some idea of father's to get us this drawing-room," said Bill.
"We'll certainly enjoy life on this trip."
"You bet," said Pud.
They certainly were traveling in style. They tossed up to see who
would get the lower berth or the sofa. Pud was the one left over and he
got the upper berth, whereupon Bill, who had the lower, said that he
would not take any chances but would take the upper berth himself. A

good-natured, argument followed and the result was that Bob took the
lower berth, Pud the sofa and Bill went upstairs. They awoke in the
morning to find themselves at Sherbrooke and to get their first taste of
the Canadian habitant. When they got down to stretch their legs before
breakfast, they found most of the Canadians speaking French.
"Here's a chance to spout your French, Bob," said Bill.
"Who told you that I talked French?" asked Bob.
"Father told me some time ago," answered Bill. "He said that you could
talk it like a native."
"I could a few years ago, but I'm rusty now, as I haven't talked French
for at least five years," replied Bob.
"They don't talk real French here anyway," said Pud.
"Oh, yes, they do," said Bill. "It's a kind of dialect, but father tells me
that it is much easier to understand a French-Canadian than many of the
French people from Paris."
"That's very true," said Bob. "My father, as I've told you before, has
been up in the Lake St. John region, and he says that he gets along
quite well with the inhabitants. He says that they have some peculiar
expressions, but that it is quite easy to talk to them as they speak a
pretty pure dialect of French."
They were soon off again, now headed for Quebec. They got a seat in
the dining-car and watched the scenery as they rode along. They found
the quaint little Canadian cottages of the habitants much like the
farmers' homes in New England. The land was rolling and, as usual,
they followed the course of some river. As they went along, they heard
less and less English and Bob was often called on to translate the cries
that were heard at the different stations.
"I'll soon get my French back up here," said Bob. "They seem to talk
pretty good French. I can understand them quite easily."

About ten o'clock, they came into a hilly country and found evidences
of mining being carried on. On Bob's inquiring, they found that they
were asbestos mines and that it was practically a new industry for this
part of Canada. They also noted that many new farms were being
cleared by the young Frenchmen and that much lumber was being
transported both by the rivers and the railroad. The look of the people
was quite foreign by this time and the boys felt that they were indeed in
a foreign land.
"Have you ever been in Toronto?" suddenly asked Bill.
"No," said Pud.
"Well, that is certainly different from this part of Canada," said Bill.
"You can hardly tell that you are out of the United States when you are
there."
"I should think that the French talk would make it seem foreign
anyway," said Pud.
"That's it," said Bob. "You don't hear any more French there than you
do in Chicago, Philadelphia or any other American city. I remember
that I was up there to the great Toronto Fair and I hardly knew that I
was in Canada."
"This is certainly different," said Bill.
"Many people that visit only Quebec and Montreal have an entirely
wrong impression of Canada. They think there are just as many French
all over as they find in those cities. The fact is that outside of the
province of Quebec, Canada is just as much an English-speaking
country as the United States.
"Is that so?" said Pud. "Why didn't we go, then, to some place where
they talk sense? I'm going to have a fine time getting along with these
fellows. I can't talk French."
"Get busy and you'll