THE COMPLETELY URBANIZED MAN, if such a
man exists, will avoid his native earth: he will confine himself
to those parts of it which are safely battened down under con-
crete. Urbanism, a term not to be confused with another,
civilization, is a matter of pavements, buildings, books and gas
fumes. But a history of Canada, any history, must have much
to do with untamed nature and with the countryside. Cities will
come into it, too, but late, though with emphasis. The first acts
of the Canadian drama are played outdoors. Will the com-
pletely urbanized man avoid Canada and Canada's history?
He may find the country big but boring: man makes civiliza-
tion, he may say, mountains do not. He may, however, be a
bit tired of his pavement, his gas fumes--and even of his
books. If so, something simpler may attract him. If he is not
intrigued with mere simplicity, he may still find in a young
country and its story something of satisfaction, not only for
his nerves, but also for his intellect.

What is that something? It is the element of vision. He who
has imagination enough can catch the vision of new com-
munities forming, of new men shaping new doctrines, the vision
of what may be.

Those who live in twentieth-century Canada are fortunate
enough to be able to see this making of a country still going
on beneath their eyes. They can feel the thrill of accomplish-
ment and know what hope the words 'new world' inspire. No
Canadian needs go far to find again the peace of the wilder-
ness. Happy people, perhaps, if they could stay in that posi-
tion, heirs of perpetual youth!

Canadians, if they are men of the canoe and the portage,
can well enough understand the distant days when all the con-
tinent was wilderness. If they are men of trade, they can remem-
ber that traders explored a continent. If they are men of books,
there have been countrymen of theirs who could wield both
axe and pen. Even if they know no history, they can under-

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