h the Settlers' passed, to learn what shameful
treatment Lord Selkirk received from his enemies, and to trace the rise
from misery to comfort of the people of the Colony.

The story is chiefly confined to Red River Settlement as it existed--a
unique community, which in 1870 became the present Province of Manitoba.
It is a sympathetic study of what one writer has called--"Britain's One
Utopia."

The Romantic Settlement

OF

Lord Selkirk's Colonists

* * * * *

Lord Selkirk's Colonists

CHAPTER I.

THE EARLIER PEOPLE.

A PATRIARCH'S STORY.

This is the City of Winnipeg. Its growth has been wonderful. It is the
highwater mark of Canadian enterprise. Its chief thoroughfare, with
asphalt pavement, as it runs southward and approaches the Assiniboine
River, has a broad street diverging at right angles from it to the West.
This is Broadway, a most commodious avenue with four boulevards neatly
kept, and four lines of fine young Elm trees. It represents to us "Unter
den Linden" of Berlin, the German Capital.

The wide business thoroughfare Main Street, where it reaches the
Assiniboine River, looks out upon a stream, so called from the wild
Assiniboine tribe whose northern limit it was, and whose name implies
the "Sioux" of the Stony Lake. The Assiniboine River is as large as the
Tiber at Rome, and the color of the water justifies its being compared
with the "Yellow Tiber."

The Assiniboine falls into the Red River, a larger stream, also with
tawny-colored water. The point of union of these two rivers was long ago
called by the French voyageurs "Les Fourches," which we have translated
into "The Forks."

One morning nearly forty years ago, the writer wandered eastward toward
Red River, from Main Street, down what is now called Lombard Street.
Here not far from the bank of the Red River, stood a wooden house, then
of the better class, but now left far behind by the brick and stone and
steel structures of modern Winnipeg.

The house still stands a stained and battered memorial of a past
generation. But on this October morning, of an Indian summer day, the
air was so soft, that it seemed to smell wooingly here, and through the
gentle haze, was to be seen sitting on his verandah, the patriarch of
the village, who was as well the genius of the place.

The old man had a fine gray head with the locks very thin, and with his
form, not tall but broad and comfortable to look upon,