influence prior to 1914, who took every sharp turn within the law, and
who shamelessly mocked at any ideals of citizenship, were among the
first to put on the King's uniform and march out to die.

To-day I read in the "paper from home" that Private William Keel is
"missing, believed killed"; and it took me back to the old days
before the war when the late Private Keel was accustomed to hold up
the little town. Mr. Keel was a sober man--except upon occasions. The
occasions were not numerous, but they left an undying impression on
his neighbors and fellow townsmen; for the late private had a way all
his own. He was a big Welshman, so strong that he never knew how
strong he was; and when he became obsessed with the desire to get
drunk, no one could stop him. He had to have it out. At such times his
one ambition was to ride a horse up the steps of the hotel, and
then--George Washington-like--rise in his stirrups and deliver an
impassioned address on what we owe to the Old Flag. If he were blocked
or thwarted in this, he became dangerous and hard to manage, and
sometimes it took a dozen men to remove him to the Police Station.
When he found himself safely landed there, with a locked door and
small, barred window between himself and liberty, his mood changed and
the remainder of the night was spent in song, mostly of "A life on the
ocean wave and a home on the rolling deep"; for he had been a sailor
before he came land-seeking to western Canada.

After having "proved up" his land in southern Manitoba--the
_Wanderlust_ seized him and he went to South America, where no doubt
he enlivened the proceedings for the natives, as he had for us while
he lived among us.

Six weeks after the declaration of war he came back--a grizzled man of