Harold Edward Bindloss (1866 - December 30, 1945) was an English novelist who wrote many adventure novels set in western Canada.
Bindloss was born in Liverpool in 1866. According to his New York Times obituary:
Mr Bindloss was more than 30 years old before he began writing. Previously he had roamed the world, farming in Canada and working in southern climes as a cargo heaver, a planter, and at other jobs.
Broken by malaria he returned to England forty-five years ago and took up office work. But he lost his job when his health broke down and turned to writing in which he found his true vocation. He published some forty novels between the years 1902 and 1943. Many of his books had their locale in Canada. (New York Times, January 2, 1946)
He returned to London. In 1898, he published his first book, a non-fiction account based on his travels in Africa, called In the Niger Country. This was followed by dozens of novels.
He was a popular writer. One reviewer writes:
A new book by Harold Bindloss is always welcome. He tells a story well indeed, but one likes his books best perhaps for the environment which he knows so well how to sketch. He has written charming stories of the Canadian Northwest and one remembers with pleasure his novels "Prescott of Saskatchewan" and "Winston of the Prairie". (Oakland Tribune, February 28, 1915)
The town of Bindloss, in the Canadian province of Alberta, was named after him.
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America, with her population leaping up, will have less and less wheat to ship; England will steadily call for more; well have wheat at a price that will pay us well before were through.
...The big ax flashed in the sunshine and bit deep into a poplar trunk; but when a few more logs had been laid beside the rest the men stopped again, for they heard a beat of hoofs coming toward them across the prairie.
...Hester went with him to Canada; and when the advancing tide of settlement reached their new home, Craig sold out again, getting much more than he had paid for his land, and moved west ahead of the army of prairie-breakers which he knew would presently follow him.
...The curious thing about it, he added, is that as I watched the boy sitting on his fine blooded horse and heard him speak, I felt as if Id once lived among high-toned English people and could somehow understand what he was thinking.
...In the center rose a square, unpretentious building of notched logs; but from this ship-lap additions, showing architectural taste, stretched out in many wings, so that, from a distance, the homestead with its wooded back-ground had something of the look of an old English manor house.