wonderful force before it falls into the placid Columbia. In the lower canyon, the water is forced through a rocky chasm, which from our point of view was of unknown depth. Where we stood the banks were overhanging. We encamped on the evening of the fourth day near the intersection of the Kicking-Horse with the Columbia, a river of considerable size in a magnificent valley several miles in width.
It is again Sunday, the first of September, which we devote to much-needed rest for horses and men. It is a beautiful morning, the sun lighting up the whole valley of the Columbia. The Rocky Mountain range which we have crossed lies behind us. The great Selkirk range lies in front. To the west and northwest, high peaks form a golden line of stern magnificence. Away to the south, huge areas of snow, possibly the accumulation of centuries, rest between the peaks. Amid all this grandeur we seek a few hours' rest to regain the vigor and elasticity which we shall need as we proceed on our journey.
In the cool of the evening we walk up the first gravelly terrace in rear of the camp to enjoy the view, ascending some five hundred feet. We were repaid for our effort. The huge mountains in our front and the valley stretching away in the magnificence of foliage to the southeast, lit up by the warm color of sunset, presented a noble landscape. I asked myself if this vast solitude would remain unchanged, or whether civilization in some form would ever penetrate to this region? It cannot be that this immense valley will always be the haunt of a few wild animals. Will the future now seeming to dawn upon us bring some change? How soon will a busy crowd of workmen take possesison, and the steam whistle re-echo where now all is silent? In the ages to come, how many trains will run to and fro from Ocean to Ocean, carrying millions of passengers? All these thoughts
