November 15, 1920

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MAIN STREET CANADA

FORTUNE and the favor of a shipping magnate made me recently the guest of a Liverpool-bound steamship for that part of the voyage that lies between Montreal and Quebec-an insignificant part, truly, but long enough to sense some of the subtle atmosphere of what was to so many a "homeward"-bound trip. By CHARLES W. STOKES13 min

WOMEN AND THEIR WORK

Canadian Press Women in Conference

TO THOSE of us who were born on the prairies of Alberta, whose first memories are of Indian sun dances and the red coats of the Northwest Mounted Police, who could count on the fingers of one hand how many times we had seen apples growing on trees; the very fact that the eighth conference of the Canadian Women's Press Club was to be held in Montreal, in the "East," was alluring enough in the beginning to make us want to attend. By ELIZABETH BAILEY PRICE10 min

THE SWALLOW

FROM the dust-dimmed window of the room in the peak of the old distillery overlooking the harbor, Billy Cavers, better known as the Swallow, watched the great liner disgorge her sea-weary freight of humanity. It was twilight, and from the steamer's red funnels long ropes of smoke twisted across the darkening waters to mingle with low-hanging, snow-spitting clouds. By ARCHIE McKISHNIE41 min

STORIES OF MY EARLY FRIENDS

ONE day after the death of my sister Laura, I was admiring a photograph of my sister Charty in the window of Macmichael's, when a footman touched his hat and asked me to speak to “her Grace” in the carriage. I turned round and saw the Duchess of Manchester*. By MARGOT ASQUITH36 min

CASH AND CARRIE

LOOK ye, Peggy girl-I'm blind as ould Missus Murphy if he aint stickin' bits o' brown paper, no less, all over his front windeys, tellin' lies about what's to be had inside!" Old Jerry Nolan removed his favorite pipe from its accustomed place, and spat disgustedly on the sidewalk in defiance of city by-law number 439 forbidding the practice. By LESLIE GORDON BARNARD27 min

THE NEW STENOGRAPHER

BILLY FARROL, who worked in a Philadelphia insurance broker's office for a living, and in his spare time wrote short stories because he was obsessed with the idea that he had within him the makings of a great author, fell between two stools and achieved nothing but mediocrity both as an insurance man and as a writer. By HENRY P. HOLT25 min

WOMEN AND THEIR WORK

The New Baby’s Wardrobe

THE other day I paused before a window in a most fashionable shopping district; it was filled with fabulously priced garments for infancy. They fluffed and they ruffed; they burst into bloom, here, there, everywhere, with pink rosettes; they fussed and they mussed —or they would muss,within five minutes— if a thoroughly athletic, do-or-die, all-forprogress, fight-for-my-country type of Canadian, a few months of age, should enter those garments under compulsion. By SARAH COMSTOCK7 min