The Icelandic Canadian - 01.03.1974, Qupperneq 15

THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
13
REMINISCENCES
Stephan G. Stephansson (1853—1927)
Translated by Axel Vopnfjord
Part IV.
MISADVENTURES IN THE PROMISED LAND
(Continued from the Winter issue, 1973)
The Lord permitted Moses to view
the promised land from a mountain
top in the land of Moab, but not to
go over thither. But the great Hebrew
prophet was spared the frustrations
and midadvenures that awaited us al-
most immediately upon our arrival in
our New World.
Having eaten our breakfast in haste,
we landed at Quebec City at 7:00 a.m.,
August 25, 1873. Not knowing that the
members of the crew were obligated
to carry our luggage ashore, we person-
ally proceeded to do so. At the
Customs Office to which our belong-
ings had been conveyed we were met
by Paul Thorlaksson, a man of good
will who was to render invaluable as-
sistance to many a confused and desper-
ate member of our group. Those of us
whose destination was Milwaukee
were required to renew our passport
at a cost of $2.75 per capita. Many of
those who had made arrangements to
go to Ontario now wished to go to Mil-
waukee, but Paul’s efforts on their be-
half were of no avail. The Canadian
government informed him that charges
would be laid against him should he
recommend that they do so.
The necessary arrangements having
been made to proceed to our desti-
nations, we ventured to explore the
city, where some of us went to a restaur-
ant for a meal which cost each one of
us 25 cents. The conductor of the train
had previously made arrangements
whereby the meal would be ready for
us upon arrival. At the restaurant
it was “every man for himself and the
devil take the hindmost”. There was a
mad rush for the limited number of
seats, followed by a raucous voice
shouting, “25 cents please”. One got
the impression that the crowd consist-
ed of barbarians rather than civilized
people. But for a kindly Englishman
who helped me to get food, and a
sympathetic Danish student who lent
me his knife, I would not have been
able to satisfy my hunger. On return-
ing to the train a colleague and I
found that there were no empty seats
in the coach reserved for the Icelandic
immigrants. We then went to a coach
occupied by English-speaking passen-
gers, who obviously resented the in-
trusion of ignorant (in their opinion)
foreigners, but we couldn’t have cared
less, and adamantly persisted in suc-
cessfully refusing to leave.
Our train dashed like lightning
across the Promised Land. I thought
how much more fortunate I was than
poor Moses, denied entry into the
land flowing with milk and honey.