powerful. He was red headed, and
although well educated, preferred his fists to any other weapons in
argument, and generally carried his points. He was fond of good horses,
boasted of his skill as a hunter, and possessed all the requisites of a
successful frontiersman. He added to these accomplishments an extensive
knowledge of Scotch poetry and a varied repertoire of choice songs,
which he sang on all appropriate occasions. On the whole, George might
be classified as an all around good fellow. Another attribute which I
must not forget to mention was, that he was the brother of one of our
most distinguished first settlers, Martin McLeod, who was a member of
the first territorial council, which convened in 1849, and also the
brother of Rev. Norman McLeod, a plucky Presbyterian preacher, who
settled in Salt Lake City in the fifties, and preached the Gentile
religion when Mormonism was at its height and its disciples were in the
habit of killing people who differed from them.

After the excitement of the election was over, George naturally began to
reflect upon his exalted position, and, of course, all his conclusions
were reached from a Canadian point of view. Feeling a little doubt on
some questions, he decided to consult me, supposing I was more familiar
with the American way of doing things than he possibly could be; so one
day he came to see me on the all-engrossing subject. We found each other
in the regulation costume of the country, which consisted of blue
flannel shirts, cheap slop-shop trowsers, Red River moccasins, and the
whole finished off with a scarlet Hudson's Bay or a variegated Pembina
sash, all of which was picturesque, but carried with it no semblance of
pretentious aristocracy. I welcomed George with great cordiality, and he
at once opened his budget. He said: "Flaundreau," giving my name the
full French pronunciation, "when we get down to parliament, we will have
to set up a coach." My surprise may be well imagined, when I tell you a
journey of a hundred miles on foot was to either of us no unusual event,
and that neither McLeod nor I had been the owner of a boot or a shoe for
several years. I, however, restrained my astonishment, and asked: "What
makes you think so?" His reply was, that it was entirely inadmissible
for a member of parliament to walk from his hotel to the parliament
house or to ride in a public conveyance. The question of British or
Canadian etiquette flashed upon me, and explained McL