Ranch Life 127 



common that we were more or less independent of 

 others. Yet this very fact contracted our sympa- 

 thies ; our circle, instead of widening, grew smaller 

 and smaller till it contained nothing but ourselves. 

 When we stepped out of it, I remember, we were 

 always amazed to find out how unconsciously we 

 had lost touch with civilisation. Great affairs that 

 were interesting the world that thinks and reads 

 excited in us but a tepid interest ; we were queerly 

 sensible that nothing mattered very much except 

 the price of cattle, and the amount of feed in the 

 pastures, — all the rest was leather and prunella. 



I have been tempted to dwell only upon memo- 

 ries that grow brighter and more fragrant as the 

 years roll by. How often, after a hot summer's 

 day, I have watched the brown foothills, as the 

 purple shadows were stealing across them. It is 

 then that the breeze from the ocean stirs the tremu- 

 lous leaves of the cotton-woods ; it is then that the 

 cattle wind slowly across their pastures, leaving 

 the canons and gulches where they have lain dur- 

 ing the sultry hours ; it is then that a golden haze 

 envelops all things: a glamour as of the world 

 unseen, a mirage so fair to the eye, so cunningly 

 interwoven with fact and fancy, that the realities 

 of life, no matter what they may be, seem to melt 

 away into the gathering shadows. 



And after the sun has set, the air is filled with 

 enchanting odours, — the odours of a land that the 

 Lord has blessed, the scent of herbs innumerable, 

 the balmy fragrance of the pines, the perfume of 

 the wild flowers, a pot-pourri of essences distilled 

 by night alone. 



