1890.] PUBLIC DOCUMENT — No. 4. 87 



habitations away from the little villages, but at intervals 

 smoke is seen to rise, and there are stacks of grain or hay. 

 We run to the end of the road, and find ourselves in a little 

 village three years old. A conspicuous object is a grain eleva- 

 tor ; there are several shanty stores, a half hotel, half board- 

 ing-house, a land-office, real estate agency, a broker's office, 

 and two or three saloons. A school-house was under way, 

 " as an advertisement ; " but they were " not so advanced as 

 to think of churches." There was a dealer in all kinds 

 of agricultural implements, machinery and vehicles, which 

 were scattered around promiscuously in the prairie grass 

 over an acre of land. AVe are hardly domiciled for the 

 niffht before most of the villao-ers know we are not there 

 to sell patents, lend money or buy land, but rather to 

 see the land which is sold, the men who have bought it, how 

 they like it and its surroundings, what they propose to do 

 with it, and how they live. This information given, we 

 have ceased to be an object of special attraction. We 

 inquire for other settlements or villages in the region, and 

 are told there are none ; for roads out of this metropolis 

 into the out country, and receive for reply, " Roads ! it is 

 all road ; go where you please, — there is nothing to hinder." 



As the next morning's sun lighted up the scene, that re- 

 mark was fully appreciated. Grass — brown, dry grass — 

 under foot in every direction, and not an object to obstruct 

 the view or attract attention. But how far does this expanse 

 extend, who owns this land, and what is beyond it, are 

 curiosity-provoking thoughts ; and we start out due south- 

 west by compass for a long tramp of discovery. As we 

 advance, the horizon recedes. The prairie, which appeared 

 so absolutely level, is found to gently undulate in long, 

 smooth swells. These swells come plainer and plainer to 

 view as we move on, and behind fall away to the horizon. 

 For miles the scene is the same ; and it would l)e very 

 monotonous but for the occasional whir of a prairie chick 

 out of the grass, whose flight is hastened rather than re- 

 tarded by the gun we bear. 



After miles of tramping, the field-glass brings to view a 

 something at the horizon which is unusual and artificial 

 rather than natural, and the course is laid in that direction ; 



