Two Things We Don’t Tell Immigrants

Sam’s father was killed in India so his uncle raised him on a farm in Galloway (in southern Scotland.)  As a young man Sam attended Oxford and had big dreams of earning his living, but when he went job-hunting, he found no one hiring.  So he did the only thing he could think of at the time: he enlisted in the army and was sent off to fight in the Boer War.

He made it back alive, but then what to do?  One evening he sat down with his uncle in their parlour and discussed his future.   Sam informed his uncle that he was thinking of going to Canada–supposedly a land of unlimited opportunity to brave souls not afraid to work.

“Good man,” his uncle boomed. “Couldn’t do better!”  He’d been over there for a few years himself in his younger days and had some fond memories of those wide open spaces.

He told Sam there just wasn’t much future in Britain anymore; he believed the struggle between capital and labor would eventually drag England down.  “Yes, emigrate.  Excellent idea!” Uncle pounded his cane on the floor enthusiastically.

“You’re a lad with good stuff in you — and a lad with stuff can do well in Canada. I’ll come over to visit you when you become a successful farmer with acres of wheat and herds of cattle!”

100212-SnowshoeingFromtheHousetotheCarinWinter1Sam’s imagination and courage perked up considerably as he envisioned the vast holdings he might someday have.

“There are two things I won’t tell you about Canada, though,” Uncle added.  “The winter and the mosquitoes.”

vexans vexans a.k.a. mosquito

vexans vexans a.k.a. mosquito

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