about the houses on the prairie. The freshets increased so rapidly, that
it was feared if we did not leave at once we should never get home, the
water being level with the bridge, which was in imminent danger of being
carried away. The lower story of the hall was also flooded, and
considered scarcely safe. So there was cloaking in hot haste, and the
gentlemen who lived near brought all the top-boots and goloshes they
could collect for the benefit of those who had to cross the partially
submerged roads.

The ice did move next day, and on the 27th, at the sound of the steamboat
whistle, I ran to the window. As if by one impulse, every door on the
main street opened, and the inmates poured forth, men putting on their
coats, women their bonnets, while holding the kicking, struggling
bare-headed babies they had snatched up in their haste to reach the
landing as soon as the boat; boys of all sizes, ages, and descriptions,
gentle and simple, rich and poor, mustered as though by magic. In five
minutes the streets and banks of the river were black with people rushing
to meet the steamer, and the shout that greeted her at the wharf was loud
and genuine. It was the last time her arrival caused such excitement, as
before another season the railway was running to St. Boniface, and
freight and passengers could get to Winnipeg all through the winter.

The spring of 1877 was wet and backward, and we looked forward to our
journey out to the contract, where a house was nearly ready for us, with
anything but unmixed pleasure. In the hope that the state of the roads
might improve, we delayed our departure until the first week in June. For
my own part, I rejoiced over every additional delay, as I was loth to
leave Winnipeg, and the many kind friends I had made there.