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		 The West to-day offers 
		great attractions for unskilled labour, or rather for that class of 
		labour which experiences great difficulty to secure steady and 
		continuous employment under normal circumstances in crowded centres. 
		This demand is emphasized most potently in connection with railway 
		constructional operations, the foundation of new towns, the building of 
		streets, and so on, where the requisitions for skill are confined to the 
		manipulation of the pick, shovel, and wheelbarrow. Railway building is 
		exceptionally active, and will continue to be the first magnet to 
		attract labour for many years to come, as the steel highway is essential 
		in development work. Arrangements have been completed for building 
		several hundred miles of lines to criss-cross the country in all 
		directions, the greatest undertaking of this character being the 
		completion of the second and third transcontinental railways. One, the 
		Grand Trunk Pacific, is rapidly approaching completion, there being only 
		a gap of about 300 miles in the heart of New British Columbia to be 
		closed to provide a continuous steel highway 3,556 miles in length from 
		the Atlantic to the Pacific seaboard. The third transcontinental, the 
		Canadian Northern, at the moment is engaged busily upon its mountain 
		section of 600 odd miles from Port Mann, near Vancouver, to the 
		Yellowhead Pass. These two enterprises alone will command the services 
		of 10,000 men, fit and able to use the above-mentioned tools. In 
		addition, the Canadian Pacific Railway is pursuing an active branch-line 
		policy to tap new and promising districts, as well as the improvement of 
		its existing system to meet the spirited competition which is 
		developing. 
		In the Great West 
		navvying may be considered as being the most steady form of employment, 
		because the work is pursued uninterruptedly upon such tasks as railway 
		construction, the whole, year through, irrespective of the elements and 
		seasons. The grader, as he is called, is a hard worker, but the pay 
		taker, on the whole is adequate for the hire. East of the Rockies it 
		averages about 8s. per day; between the Rockies and the Pacific 
		seaboard, where labour is somewhat scarcer, the remuneration is 
		proportionately higher, as much as 12s. a day being offered per man in 
		return for the sweat of his brow. The reason is that keen competition 
		for brawn and muscle prevails in the latter new country. During the 
		summer in Northern British Columbia the navvy has no difficulty to earn 
		as much as twenty shillings per day when accompanying prospecting and 
		developing expeditions. 
		The navvy’s life in the 
		West is vastly different from tha t which obtains in the Old World. Here 
		a man can look forward only to a weekly income between 21s. and 25s. per 
		week, and it is a precarious livelihood at that. Then a third of this 
		wage approximately has to be expended on rent, so that precious little 
		is left to keep body and soul together. Contrast this condition of 
		affairs with a similar situation in Western Canada. The wages average 
		from 40s. to 45s. for a six-day week, and fully one half of this amount 
		is available to the worker to spend as he pleases. There is no deduction 
		for rent, as the grader shakes down in the camp’s bunk-house. Living 
		expenses absorb about 21s. per week, being an average of Is. per meal, 
		or 3s. per day. The only remaining essential expenditure is the 
		deduction of Is. per week, which is levied as a contribution towards 
		medical attention, and this entitles the mail to the services of a 
		physician and the supply of medicine during illness, aa well as entry 
		into the C0mp-ho3pital with attention in cases of accident. The outlay 
		over and above these two sums is governed entirely by the caprices and 
		temperament of the worker. Clothes made for wear, ami not appearance, 
		are the order of the day; alcoholic drink, except in very few instances, 
		is not to be obtained for love or money except surreptitiously and 
		illegally, owing to the prohibition law, so that the worker cannot 
		fritter away his money in excesses. Tobacco is practically the sole form 
		of enjoyment, unless one except cards and gambling, which, for some 
		inscrutable reason, appear to be inseparable from the Canadian navvy's 
		life. 
		The navvy’s existence, 
		taken on the whole, is enjoyable. The men aro not so isolated or lonely 
		as one might imagine at first sight. The railway camps are strung out 
		over a distance of 100 or 150 miles, and are about two miles apart. Each 
		little community may number from forty to 200 souls or more. The 
		buildings, are as comfortable as massive logs and moss-chinking, 
		together with the assistance of a wood-burning stove in winter can make 
		them. The bunk-house is snug, with the beds cr bunks set out in a row on 
		either side of a central gangway and in two tiers. The mattresses are 
		composed of thin willow-poles laid longitudinally, covered with a thick 
		layer of balsam boughs or loose hay and blankets. At one camp the 
		contractor indulged the men to an extreme degree. The bunk-house was 
		equipped with single iron bedsteads and blankets, while a special man 
		was deputed to attend to the sleeping accommodation and the drawing of 
		hot and cold water for washing purposes, so that when the men returned 
		at night they might be able to perform their ablutions without having 
		“to pack” the hot or cold water. This, however, was an extreme 
		exception. 
		The men are torn from 
		their slumbers about six o’clock in the morning by the clanging of the 
		cock's gong—a triangular piece of steel fashioned from a bar about an 
		inch in dir meter, beaten with a steel rod. Tumbling out of their 
		berths, the men hurriedly don their attire, and, armed with soap and 
		towels, scurry away down to the creek, beside which the camp is pitched, 
		to have a wash in the crystal refreshing water. Violent drubbing with 
		the towel brings a healthy glow to the cheeks, and then there is a 
		scamper into the dining hall, which is another log-dwelling, to do 
		justice to a substantial meal. It is safe to say that very few navvies 
		in the Old World can point to such good square meals as their comrades 
		receive in a Canadian railway-camp. There is a round of oatmeal or mush, 
		followed by meat and vegetables in plenty, with a wind-up of pie in 
		variety. Without the mush and pie no Canadian navvy would think of 
		starting out upon his day’s work. Pork and beans; invariably figure on 
		the menu, as they form an excellent support to Little Mary when the toil 
		is hard and exhausting in the rock-cut or the sand-pit. 
		Breakfast finished, the 
		men scatter to their stations on the grade, and by the stroke of seven 
		have bent their backs to their jobs, continuing without interruption 
		until midday. The blare of whistles precipitates a stampede to the 
		dining-room once more, as the keen virgin air and the grinding work 
		produces a big appetite, which is assuaged by bowls of steaming soup, 
		with a following of meat and vegetables, pork and beans, or fish. Stewed 
		fruit and rice, the inevitable pie, bread in plenty, and cheese help to 
		provide a substantial foundation for the afternoon’s work, which is 
		started at one o’clock. 
		There is another five 
		hours’ pull with the tools until the screech of the sirens at six 
		o’clock sounds, cessation of work for the day. The men, as a rule, have 
		a good wash and brush-up on the banks of the creek, and then file into 
		the dining-hall for the third and last meal, which, in point of variety 
		and substance, compares with the midday repast. The camps are well 
		stocked with provisions of a most assorted character, which, though 
		canned, are invariably of a most tasty description. The only liquors 
		permitted are lime-juice, which is drank liberally to nullify the 
		effects of the preserved comestibles impregnated with salt, and thus 
		tends to counteract the chances of an outbreak of scurvy, together with 
		tea and coffee ad lib., with as much sugar and milk as fancy dictates. 
		The meats are not 
		exclusively of the canned variety, however. These are regarded more in 
		the light of reserve provisions. When the camps have settled down 
		steadily to work, facilities are provided whereby the men are insured a 
		steady supply of fresh meat, cattle being driven along the route and 
		killed at suitable points for distribution among the scattered 
		communities. In one instance the builders of the Grand Trunk Pacific 
		Railway contracted for the supply of no less than 5,000 head of cattle 
		in the course of one year. These animals had to be driven in huge droves 
		for over 600 miles across country to the most central point among the 
		camps. On the Skeena River the contractors set up a large 
		slaughterhouse, and the meat as dressed was conveyed down the waterway 
		to a cold storage, which likewise was specially erected to hold the food 
		in plenty for distribution wherever required, so that there was little 
		possibility of the men running short of fresh meat. The contractors have 
		learned from experience that a good meat diet is essential to enable the 
		labourers to withstand the bard gruelling of five hours’ steady and 
		unremitting toil, throwing earth anti rock about to make way for the 
		parallel bands of steel. 
		When a camp is 
		established, as a rule the community can rely upon being settled there 
		for eighteen months or two years. The grade is driven outwards from the 
		camp on each side to meet the highway similarly driven from the adjacent 
		camp on either hand. Under these circumstances the men can add to their 
		diet by growing vegetables and ingredients for salads, which form a 
		welcome change to the canned articles of diet. As a matter of fact, a 
		large lumber of men turn their leisure time to cultivating small patches 
		when the soil is suitable, and the succulent lettuces, spring onions, 
		and radishes arc devoured with ill-disguised relish. 
		After the evening meal 
		the men while away the time according to individual inclinations. As a 
		rule, a couple of hours are beguiled in lounging, reading, and smoking, 
		or indulgence in some hobby, the arrival of nine o'clock seeing the 
		majority making way to the bunks for a well-earned rest. 
		Sunday is a blank day, 
		the one day’s rest in seven being rigidly enforced, except when 
		rush-work such an the building of a steel bridge which is holding up the 
		advance of the track-layer, is necessary. In the morning the banks 
		beside the little creek are busy with the navvies carrying out their 
		laundry duties, for every man has to complete his own washing, which, 
		although not extensive is yet imperative in the interests of health—that 
		is, if the wage-earner is alive to the advantages of hygiene. In the 
		afternoon many will wander off to visit pals in other camps, go out on a 
		hunt for “bar” or any other game in the forests, while others, with a 
		rod fashioned from a willow-branch, a few feet of cord, and a hook, will 
		ensconce themselves in shady nooks to indulge in the Waltonian art. 
		Visitors stray in from neighbouring camps, and around the camp fire peak 
		of laughter will ring out over anecdotes and reminiscences. The average 
		grader is a born raconteur, and many and varied are the stories which he 
		can reel off concerning his own experiences or those of people whom he 
		has mot. Then various institutions, such as the Young Men’s Christian 
		Association and Bible Missions pursue active campaigns for the 
		improvement of the mind, not with vapid discourses upon the differences 
		between heaven and hell, or an endeavour to lead the rough diamonds from 
		the latter to the former upon orthodox principles, but in homely talk in 
		which religion is well veiled. Sometimes a “frock” attached to one or 
		other of the various denominations will appear in the camp and will make 
		a special pleading for some purpose or other. Such strangers invariably 
		meet with a hearty welcome, especially if they are expert in preparing 
		the mental pabulum for such strange flocks. The services are as unlike 
		those connected with religious enterprises as it is possible to imagine. 
		The shepherds for the most part have a wealth of stories which they 
		relate, seizing every opportunity to drive home the moral unconsciously. 
		If the preacher is a “great stuff,” his work will not be in vain, for 
		the navvy is hearty and liberal in his response to the call for 
		financial assistance. Woe betide the grumbler who displays hostility to 
		the collection-plate, or is niggardly in his contributions thereto. His 
		comrades have their own way of bringing him to his senses, and making 
		him see eye to eye with them in supporting the preacher's claims. 
		  
		Of course some 
		temperaments cannot be held in check; the prohibition law hits such 
		worthies hard, as it means that they have got to make a weary and 
		expensive journey of perhaps 200 miles to gratify their desires for a 
		carousal. They set off with a substantial wad of dollar bills 
		representing several months hard-earned wages, strike the nearest 
		licensed town, paint it red the first night, get pitchforked into some 
		dive by the human vultures always on the sharp lookout for such prey, 
		are robbed of everything, and then are compelled to return to the scene 
		of their former labours as best they can, probably borrowing the 
		wherewithal from the contractors to regain the camp, and having it 
		deducted from their wages when the latter are due. 
		Yet steady workers have 
		no difficulty in improving their positions. There always is room higher 
		up if a man has the capacity to occupy the vacant post. I have met 
		several who started picking and shovelling on the grade at two dollars a 
		day, but who soon climbed the ladder to become timekeepers at £14 per 
		month all found, foremen, and so on. Sir N. D. Mann is a case in point. 
		It was not many years ago that he was gruelling on the grade and 
		tumbling sleepers about for less than two dollars a day; now he is one 
		of the moving spirits in the third trans-continental railway. Many of 
		the contractors handling large jobs in the West, when they grow 
		reminiscent, will relate how they struggled hard at the worst work on 
		the grade for a few shillings to eke out a miserable existence as it was 
		then. 
		As a matter of fact, 
		there is no reason why a navvy should remain a mere navvy if he has any 
		initiative and pluck, as well as being thrifty. A few months’ work and 
		its accumulated equivalent in coin is a positive stepping-stone to 
		better and more remunerative occupation. The contractors are always 
		disposed to let out stations, as the lengths of 100 feet into which the 
		grade is divided are termed, on contract or piece-work. They let the job 
		tor a certain price, and their profit is represented in the difference 
		between what they receive for the task and what they pay the 
		piece-worker. A man with less than £lo can get a start as a 
		subcontractor. He will either recruit his labour himself, paying the 
		usual wage, or in turn will put his men upon piece-work rates, and will 
		take a hand in it himself. Maybe the station is easy, requiring 
		practically no plant beyond a few planks, picks, shovels, and 
		wheelbarrows. The chief contractors will let out these requisitions to 
		him at a low rate. The subcontractor can only hope to make the job 
		remunerative to himself by getting it through at high pressure, and he 
		accordingly spares no effort to bring about such a consummation. A man 
		toiling on piece-work will put more effort into ten hours than a man who 
		is content to draw a day’s pay, and without any ambition to better his 
		position. Accordingly, the contractors foster “subbing.” It means that 
		the job is completed in shorter time than is possible with day labour, 
		and it is immaterial to them how much the subcontractor makes or loses 
		over the job, so long as it is carried out in accordance with 
		specifications. The Scotsmen are particularly keen upon subcontracting, 
		and many working upon the co-operative principle to complete a station, 
		have cleared substantial sums as a result of their enterprise. 
		This tendency is 
		responsible for reckless plunging at times; the man thinks that he can 
		see his way to make a good thing out of a station or two, and although 
		it may involve the laying out of perhaps several hundred pound;! in 
		plant, he will embark cheerfully upon the enterprise with a capital, 
		perhaps, of only £30 or £40. If fortune i3 kind, and he works hard, and 
		knows how to set about the task, he pulls through all right and smiles 
		satisfactorily as he draws a fat cheque and weighs up the balance 
		representing profit on the transaction. If he comes a cropper, he turns 
		over the unfortunate station to the contractors and resumes work at a 
		daily wage until he has amassed a few more pounds, with which to feel 
		his feet and try his luck anew. 
		Subcontracting does not 
		involve the quotation of a lump sum for the completion of a station. 
		Such a system is impossible, as no one can tell what is lurking beneath 
		the surface of the ground. Maybe what looks like soft soil may spring a 
		surprise in the form of slippery clay, or dense rock, demanding skilled 
		labour for blasting. The subcontractor works upon the payment by cubic 
		yard basis. The engineers have plotted the path of the line, and it 
		demands the removal of so much material to fashion the pathway, either 
		from the spot to drive a cutting, or from a ballast-pit to build up an 
		embankment. The debris is divided into three ratings. Ordinary soil is 
		classified as “common”; earth associated with stones and small boulders 
		as “loose rock”; while that requiring the aid of explosives is known as 
		“solid rock.” The first named receives the lowest payment because it is 
		the easiest to handle, and requires practically no tackle; the latter 
		receives the highest pay, as it demands first-class skill in boring and 
		handling the explosives, while the second named receives a price between 
		the two. The subcontractor’s work is measured by the engineers, who also 
		decide what is essential to this end in accordance with the 
		specifications, and for this total the1 man is paid. If he has removed 
		too much spoil, then his labour has been in vain, and he must pocket his 
		loss; this is practically whore the risk comes in, especially in rock, 
		but if a mar. is careful he will not err on the side of doing too much 
		work; it is his own fault if he does. 
		The winter is possibly 
		the worst period for the navvy; then he is often imprisoned virtually by 
		an encircling wall of snow-bound forest, more effective as a barrier 
		than steel bars. With the thermometer down so low that to pick up an 
		iron bar with the naked hand is to produce a blister, and with the blast 
		so keen that it cuts like a knife unless furs and woollen clothing are 
		liberally donned, it requires some pluck to rally out into the rock-cut. 
		In these islands 
		navvying is regarded practically as being on the lowest rung of human 
		endeavour, but in the Dominion, where the moulding process is still 
		being actively pursued, the navvy is regarded as an indispensable unit. 
		Without him the foundations of the country cannot be laid, and for this 
		very reason the task is regarded as a positive stepping-stone to better 
		things, provided the wielder of the pick and shovel has an average 
		amount of enterprise and brains. As a matter of fact, although he may 
		arrive in the country with no more ambition than a tramp, this faculty 
		soon becomes kindled and developed under the spurring effort of his 
		pals’ successes, so that he labours to attain greater heights on the 
		ladder of success himself.  |