The president of the gallery always occupied the chair, having the Prime Minister on his right and the leader of the Opposition on his left. For sixteen consecutive years I was honored with a seat next Sir Wilfrid, whether he was in office or out of it—bluff old Harry Anderson of the Toronto _Globe_ could tell you why.
The only reason I can give for being chosen to sit beside Sir Wilfrid all these years was that I never wanted anything of him and didn’t worry him by introducing theological, theosophical, social, scientific or any other subject that was not in complete harmony with the spirit and informality of the evening. And Sir Wilfrid did enjoy a joke. One night I called his attention to the fact that the waiter was removing the silverware between courses.
“Why, yes! What does he do that for?” he asked.
“Well, you know, Sir Wilfrid, he’s responsible for the table-ware.”
“Surely,” remarked Sir Wilfrid solemnly, “he doesn’t suspect me, does he?”
Then again I remarked to him that I supposed he travelled a good deal, and he said he did.
“And you put up at first-class hotels, too, I presume?” He acknowledged that he did.
“Did you ever notice, Sir Wilfrid, how small the cakes of soap in the bedrooms are nowadays?”
He said he had, and wanted to know the reason of their diminished size.
“Because the hotels don’t lose so much soap now.”
And the raillery was just what he wanted to indulge in after, perhaps, a vexatious and trying day at his office.
According to a report of one of the press gallery banquets Hon. Frank Oliver, M.P., shortly after I had delivered what I was pleased to think was a speech, was called upon. The former Minister of the Interior according to the report said he had always felt a personal interest and some pride in Mr. Ham, because he had been the means of giving him his first job in the West. In 1875 he (Mr. Oliver) was the foreman in the Winnipeg _Free Press_ printing office, when a young fellow just up from Ontario blew in, told a joke or two and asked for a job at the case. Mr. Oliver said he liked the jokes and also his style, and engaged him then and there, giving him some good advice as to how he might get on if he minded himself. The ex-minister continued: “George took the advice all right, for before many months were over he was writing the editorials for the _Free Press_ and was an alderman of the city of Winnipeg, while I was driving bulls across the prairie.”