THERE were two sons of our
marriage: John, and Allan. Both graduated in engineering at McGill
University in Montreal. John became a pilot in the Royal Naval Air
Service; and lost his life in the War of 1914-18.
Allan is now a partner in
the firm of J. L. E. Price & Company, Building Contractors, Montreal. He
is married; and has two daughters, and one son.
I had the misfortune to
lose my wife in 1928. Since then I have been playing a lone hand in the
same house that she and I took possession of fifty years ago.
Of the Big Four, mentioned
in a preceding chapter, Mackenzie became Sir William Mackenzie; and Mann
became Sir Donald D. Mann. Both were knighted for their services in
promoting and constructing the Canadian Northern Railway.
Holt, too, was knighted,
and became well known as Sir Herbert S. Holt. He received his knighthood
in recognition of his services in connection with the planning of the
railway system for the Army in France in the War of 1914-18.
Ross, the Chief, however,
remained just James Ross until the end.
Of the engineers whom I
have mentioned as having been associated with me on the construction of
the Canadian Pacific Railway in the mountains, there are now only four
about whom I know anything. These are:
G. H. Duggan, of the
Dominion Bridge Company in Montreal.
T. K. Thomson, Consulting
Engineer in New York.
A. K. Stuart, now living in
semi-retirement at Hope, British Columbia.
J. E. Griffith, for many
years in the service of the British Columbia Government in various
capacities, and finally as Deputy Minister of Railways. He is now retired,
and is living at Victoria, B. C. I still keep in touch with these four,
and see, or hear, from them about once a year.
While thinking of a fitting
conclusion to these reminiscences, the words of a poem of Kingsley's have
kept surging in my mind. The only time I ever read this poem, or heard it
recited, was when I was serving my apprenticeship in Glasgow. It has lain
dormant in my mind all those years. Now that it has awakened I show it
here, just as I remember it. There may be some slight variations from the
original, in the wording; but not in the sentiment, I feel sure.
"When all the world is
And all the trees are green,
And every goose a swan, lad,
And every lass a queen;
Then hey for boot and horse, lad,
To range the world away;
Young blood must have its course, lad,
And every dog his day.
"When all the world is old,
And all the trees are brown,
And all the sport is stale, lad,
And all the wheels run down;
Creep home and take your place there
The halt and maimed among.
God grant you find one face there,
You loved when all was young."