their wallowing holes, dotting the plain. Here having dug a slight depression with their horns, into which the water trickled, they rolled and covered themselves with mud. All day long we passed an unending series of grass-covered swells as in a panorama; its very sameness seemed so wonderful and so strange that I could never tire of looking at it.

In the afternoon the land appeared to get more sandy and barren, the sage bush was more frequent, and the profusion of sunflowers marvellous-they spread out everywhere in sheets of gold, but along the railway track they were richest of all. The margin of the line was like a ribbon of intense yellow far as the eye could see.

At last at 4 P.M. a change came over the scene. Passing through some low, barren-looking hills, the line descended into the valley of the Saskatchewan river and we stopped for twenty-five minutes at Medicine Hat station. Here our tired-out locomotive was changed for another, the wheels of the cars were overhauled, and away we went again to the westward. As we crept up the incline beyond the river, an Indian on his pony raced the train, and seemed quite elated with himself at getting ahead of us, crossing the track in front of the engine, and riding slowly down the opposite side of the train.

About sunset we saw a few antelopes and coyotes, the latter evidently hoping to pick up a stray prairie

III.]

CALGARY.

33

dog for supper; some large hawks sailed about with no doubt a similar object in view.

Our elevation above the sea had now increased considerably, the general level of this part of the prairie being about 2,500 feet. The air was bracing and crystal-clear. In summer at any rate no climate could be more delightful; and strange as it may appear, from this on to the mountains, though increasing gradually in height, this region possesses the most open climate in winter of any portion of the Dominion east of the Rocky Mountains.

The shades of evening soon closed in, and it was long after midnight when we reached Calgary. As it was our intention to break the journey here, in order to buy provisions for our mountain expedition, and to see some friends, we left the train and went to a hotel. It was a grateful rest after days of perpetual motion and rattle; and as no West-bound train would pass until the same hour next night, we took our time at breakfast, and then went to call on the worthy parson, who conducted us to the best store for purchasing bacon, flour, biscuits, tinned meats, tea, sugar and all the et ceteras which seem necessaries of life. How strangely all plans of travel finally gravitate to the commissariat! If only some one would kindly guarantee the commissariat, the summit of Mount Everest and the South Pole might easily be reached.

I was much interested in hearing something of the

D

Indians, who occupy three large camps near Calgary. They belong to different tribes; the Bloods and the Blackfeet speaking one language, and the Sarcees another.

At dinner at our friend's house we had the good fortune to meet the mission teacher of the S.P.G., who resides with the Sarcees, and was formerly for some time in the much larger Blood camp. As these camps were too far off to reach them in our limited time, we walked about four miles on the prairie and saw some lodges of the Blackfeet. All these prairie Indians adhere to their native dress, with the addition very commonly of a slouched hat, which does not correspond somehow with the rest of their gear-a kind of tunic, leggings with coloured fringes all down the back of the leg and a bright-coloured blanket. Since the land has been taken up by Government they are supposed to live on reserves, and for the most part the law is adhered to: on the reserve is a Government agent who issues rations to them, which, with other items, form portion of the stipulated payment for the landed rights handed over by them to the Government. They breed horses, learn agriculture, and go on the hunting path at sṭated times of the year as formerly. Though they still endure great tortures in the ordeal which admits them to the number of the braves, their wars we hope are over for

ever.

We ought I suppose to feel thankful for such a

III.] 'PRESENT CONDITION OF THE INDIANS.

35

change. How strange then does it seem that sadness is the feeling which involuntarily seems to arise instead! The fact is, the Indian was like a fine wild animal in the ideal we formed of him from storybooks. Now he is dropping into a very ordinary piece of humanity. We must in truth be thankful that civilization, and we hope in some cases real Christian feeling, has made their ferocity, their love of torturing captives, and some of their more terrible vices impossible. Well for them if the meaner vices which skulk under a varnish of civilization do not take their place, and leave the last state of the man worse than the first! The Indians living on the prairies of the Dominion and in British Columbia now number about 100,000, but an accurate census of them would I think be impossible.

The settled Indians of the Eastern provinces have been admitted to the franchise. The half-wild Indians of the prairie are yet outside these rights of citizenship. They are essentially nomadic, and their camps show the necessity for constant moves. Around their lodges

bones and skins and offal of all kinds accumulate and their only plan of improving their sanitary condition is to strike camp and move on. Every acre of the plain near Calgary appears to have been occupied in this way. It seems as if it were yet a long way off before such a race of people could thrive in settled towns.

The interest which attaches to these poor Indians has

to see.

delayed me from saying one word of the view. But what a view! worth coming all the way from England In a deep cutting the Bow river wound its way towards the mighty Saskatchewan : the great highway of the North West, before the Canadian Pacific Railway revolutionised that region. North, south, and east lay the wide swells of golden-grassed prairie, but to the westward the Rocky Mountains were in sight for nigh a hundred miles. They rose like a great purple rampart, jagged and peaked in outline, above the ocean. of grass. Glaciers and snow fields glinted in the sunshine; deep valleys suggested rivers and passes; the distance was too great to make out the details, the sharp outline of the summits melted downwards into blue atmosphere, as the lower portions of the ranges met the golden yellow of the prairie: the contrast was superb.