THE PLAINS 



As we journey westward through Manitoba, following 

 the Canadian Pacific railway into Saskatchewan and east- 

 ern Alberta, the rainfall gradually decreases, and when we 

 have reached the isohyetal line of ten to fifteen inches, 

 which swings northwestward at about the one hundred and 

 second meridian, we may be said to be fairly on the Plains. 

 Except along the streams or among the sand-hills, there is 

 no native forest growth, and the eye may vainly search the 

 horizon for the sight of a single tree. 



The rolling ground is covered with a thick growth of 

 grass which in lower, moister situations, is replaced by 

 higher species, a small sage bush, rose-bushes and a recum- 

 bent cactus grow sparsely, and, in season, there is a pro- 

 fusion of flowers. To this sketch a botanist would add many 

 details but here, at any rate, we have those features of the 

 vegetation which impress themselves on the layman. 



I had always attributed the plainsman's glorification of 

 his native heath to lack of experience, love of home, or the 

 influence of those associations which so fortunately predis- 

 pose us toward the land of our birth. That a flat, treeless, 

 featureless country could, from a scenic standpoint, be seri- 

 ously compared with the forested and watered East, or the 

 mountainous West, seemed impossible, but I had only to 

 live on the Plains to yield to their compelling charm. 



In the first place, the Plains are not flat but are rolling, 

 and their sweeping undulations not only please the eye but 

 appeal to the imagination by concealing what lies beyond 

 each succeeding ridge. The ridges, in turn, give a breadth 

 of view compared with which one's horizon at sea is 

 restricted ; and to this measureless expansiveness of the 

 Plains, more than to any other characteristic, is due their 



