the penetrating power of Nature more deeply than in the
apathy or indolent ease of a Sunday lounge. Still there were
those who had to smart for it--the trackers. But the Mecca of
the Landing being so near, and its stimulating delights looming
largely in the haze of their imagination, they were as eager to
go on as ourselves.

The left bank of the river now exhibited, for a long distance, a
wilderness swept by fire, but covered with "rampikes" and fallen
timber. The other side seemed to have partially escaped destruction.
The tracking was good, and we passed the "Twenty Mile Rock" before
dinner, camping about fifteen miles from the Landing. Next morning
we passed through a like burnt country on both sides, giving the
region a desolate and forlorn look, which placed it in sinister
contrast with the same river to the north.

Farther up, the right bank rose bare to the sky-line with a mere
sprinkling of small aspens, indicating what the appearance of the
"rampike" country would be if again set ablaze, and converted from
a burnt-wood region to a bare one. The banks revealed a clay soil,
in some places mixed boulders, but evidently there was good land
lying back from the river.

In the morning bets were made as to the hour of arrival at the
Landing. Mr. P. said four p.m., the writer five, the Major six,
and Mr. C. eight. At three p.m. we rounded the last point but
one, and reached the wharf at six-thirty, the Major taking the
pool.

We had now nothing before us but the journey to Edmonton. At night
a couple of dances took place in adjacent boarding-houses, which
banished sleep until a great uproar arose, ending in the partisans
of one house cleaning out the occupants of the other, thus reducing
things to silence. We knew then that we had returned to earth. We
had dropped, as it were, from another planet, and would soon, too
soon, be treading the flinty city streets, and, divorced from
Nature, become once more the bond-slaves of civilization.

Conclusion.

I have thought it most convenient to the reader to unite with
the text, as it passes in description from place to place, what
knowledge of the agricultural and other resources of the country
was obtainable at the time. The reader is probably weary of
description by this time; but, should he make a similar journey,
I am convinced he would not weary of the reality. Travellers,
however, differ strangely in perception. Some are observers,
with imagination to bri