because she has lately been talked at, or down to, by her neighbours.  You know how at any gathering of our men from all quarters it is tacitly conceded that Canada takes the lead in the Imperial game.  To put it roughly, she saw the goal more than ten years ago, and has been working the ball toward it ever since.  That is why her inaction at the last Imperial Conference made people who were interested in the play wonder why she, of all of us, chose to brigade herself with General Botha and to block the forward rush.  I, too, asked that question of many.  The answer was something like this:  ’We saw that England wasn’t taking anything just then.  Why should we have laid ourselves open to be snubbed worse than we were?  We sat still.’  Quite reasonable—­almost too convincing.  There was really no need that Canada should have done other than she did—­except that she was the Eldest Sister, and more was expected of her.  She is a little too modest.

We discussed this, first of all, under the lee of a wet deck-house in mid-Atlantic; man after man cutting in and out of the talk as he sucked at his damp tobacco.  The passengers were nearly all unmixed Canadian, mostly born in the Maritime Provinces, where their fathers speak of ‘Canada’ as Sussex speaks of ‘England,’ but scattered about their businesses throughout the wide Dominion.  They were at ease, too, among themselves, with that pleasant intimacy that stamps every branch of Our Family and every boat that it uses on its homeward way.  A Cape liner is all the sub-Continent from the Equator to Simon’s Town; an Orient boat is Australasian throughout, and a C.P.R. steamer cannot be confused with anything except Canada.  It is a pity one may not be born in four places at once, and then one would understand the half-tones and asides, and the allusions of all our Family life without waste of precious time.  These big men, smoking in the drizzle, had hope in their eyes, belief in their tongues, and strength in their hearts.  I used to think miserably of other boats at the South end of this ocean—­a quarter full of people deprived of these things.  A young man kindly explained to me how Canada had suffered through what he called ‘the Imperial connection’; how she had been diversely bedevilled by English statesmen for political reasons.  He did not know his luck, nor would he believe me when I tried to point it out; but a nice man in a plaid (who knew South Africa) lurched round the corner and fell on him with facts and imagery which astonished the patriotic young mind.  The plaid finished his outburst with the uncontradicted statement that the English were mad.  All our talks ended on that note.