Sing a Song of Montreal, A barrel full of rye;
Four-and-twenty Yankees
Feeling rather dry;
When the barrel was opened
They all began to sing,
“Oh, to hell with Mr. Volstead—
And God save the King!”
THE Dominion of Canada has solved its liquor problem, for the most part. It is interesting to note that in those Provinces which are technically dry, a wretched state of things exists, as in the United States; and those Provinces which have government control are well ordered. For instance, Nova Scotia has absolute Prohibition. I went there in May and June, 1922, and, as in the States, I never lacked for a drink when I desired one. Practically every chemist is a bootlegger.
 
To show you how badly the system works, let me tell of a personal experience. I found myself one week-end in a little village which shall be nameless. I inquired of the inn-keeper if it would be possible to obtain a bottle of whiskey. “Certainly,” he said. “Simply go to the drug-store, tell him you are a151 guest of mine, and I think you will have no difficulty in getting a good brand.”
I was surprised, to say the least. It chanced to be a Sunday morning. The church bells were ringing, and as I got to the door of the shop, the druggist was just leaving it—he lived above it, I believe—for morning service. I told him my errand; and immediately, without the slightest hesitation, he opened the door, took me in, and sold me what I wished. He hadn’t the slightest idea who I was; yet perhaps it was evident that I was an American traveler. No questions were asked, and openly I carried my bottle through the streets back to the inn.
In New Brunswick I obtained ale openly in a hotel; and the waitress told me that almost on every other corner of the city in which I was stopping, a bootlegger could be found; and if I made my wishes known there would be no difficulty in purchasing anything I wanted. As it happened, I wished nothing there; but it was good to know that it could have been bought any time of the day or evening.
But in the Province of Quebec and in British Columbia quite another state of affairs will be found. The Government controls the liquor trade, and guarantees the quality of the alcohol sold. Neat little Government Liquor Stores, as they are called, are in every city and town, and a vendor has charge of each one—a regular Government employee who is “responsible for the carrying-out of the Government Liquor Act and the regulations so far as they152 relate to the conduct of the store and the sale of liquor thereat.”
Everything is done in a most orderly and systematic way. If one wishes to purchase whiskey, he merely applies to the vendor in his neighborhood. A small fee is charged; and it is a gratification to know that this fee goes directly to one’s Government, and not into the pockets of bootleggers. Supplies are delivered in sealed packages, duly inscribed; and again it is a gratification to know that one is in no danger of drinking poison, with the added fear of death or blindness.
There are restrictions—a great many, indeed; but they are wise and for the best interests of the Province. For instance, it is against the law to drink in the Government stores; but one may, of course, in an inn have a supply of liquor in one’s room, or drink light wines and beer in the public dining-room. Drunkenness is taboo, and one sees very little of it. The people are prosperous, and everyone is as happy as one can be in this troubled world. Canada had enormous war debts. I was told that British Columbia ha............