AT THE FRONTIER 3 



moulds us all into one proper and narrow and colorless 

 whole. How little the fenced divisions of ordinary every- 

 day life seem when you have returned ! How petty one 

 feels on rejoining the hysterical mob which hurries forth 

 each morning from dwelling to office, and gathers again 

 each night from office to dwelling. 



At all events, whatever the incentive, Arthur Hem ing, 

 the artist, and I found ourselves, December 27, 1894, at 



NORTHWESTERN BRITISH AMERICA, SHOWING BARREN GROUNDS AND 

 MR. WHITNEY'S ROUTE 



Edmonton, the end of the railroad. We had travelled 

 on the Canadian Pacific via Winnipeg and Calgary, and 

 through the land of the Crees, Blackfeet, arid Sarcee Ind- 

 ians, without seeing anything so picturesque in the way 

 of costuming as the Winnipeg dragoon and a Sarcee 



