" Canada
taught him in ten days what at home he would never have learnt in a
lifetime: that London is not the British Empire.
The clerk who lives out his life in the rabbit-warren of the city of
London by day, and in a cheap, pretentious, red-brick suburb by night,
believes firmly that outside London not much matters. He lumps together
the Canadian, the South African, the Australian, and the New Zealander
under the slighting category of "colonials." He imagines them bowing
themselves humbly before the majesty of the Londoner, taking their cues
from London and reverencing it as the fount of all wisdom and might and
wealth.
There is no one more "provincial" than the Cockney born and bred.
After ten days of Canada, Dean with his chameleon mind felt himself
almost a Canadian. He was beginning to pity the limitations of the
Londoner. He considered himself raised above that level.
Winnipeg, the new "wheat pit" of North America, impressed him most
strongly. He could feel the bursting strength of the young city--a David
amongst cities. He could feel it growing under his feet to its kingdom
of the granary of Britain. The epic of the wheat pulsed its stately
poetry into him--thrilled him with the majestic chords of its mighty
song.
He had a half-idea that Lars Larssen's big scheme was in some way
connected with the epic of the wheat, and it gave him fresh importance
to think that he was serving such a man in so confidential a position.
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