patch of wood or bit of prairie before us. They rose bold and abrupt five or six thousand feet from the wooded country beneath them—the western verge of the plains, the elevation of which was over three thousand feet additional above the sea,—and formed in long, unbroken line across our path. . . . The summits on one side of the Athabaska were serrated, looking sharp as the teeth of a saw; on the other, the Roche à Myette, immediately behind the first line, reared a great, solid, unbroken cube, two thousand feet high, a "forehead bare," twenty times higher than Ben An's; and, before and beyond it, away to the south and west, extended ranges with bold summits and sides scooped deep, and corries far down, where formerly the wood buffalo and the elk, and now the moose, bighorn and bear, find shelter. There was nothing fantastic about their forms. Everything was imposing. And these, too, were ours, an inheritance as precious, if not as plentiful in corn and milk, as the vast rich plains they guarded. For mountains elevate the mind, and give an inspiration of courage and dignity to the hardy races who own them and who breathe their atmosphere.
For the strength of the hills we bless Thee,
Our God, our fathers' God.
Thou hast made our spirits mighty
With the touch of the mountain sod.
The scene had its effect on the whole party. As we wound in long, Indian file along the sinuous trail that led across grassy bas-fonds under the shadow of the mountains that were still a day's journey distant, not a word was heard nor a cry to the horses for the first half-hour.
After dinner we resumed the march. . . . The view of the mountains all this afternoon more than made up for the difficulties of the road. Instead of being clearly
