8 FRUIT RANCHING. 



tlic'so mountain masses! Nor is a village in a similar 

 situation able ti) invest itself with any higher dignity 

 than such as belongs to the doll-like. So dwarfing is 

 the elfeet of stupendous masses of sky-aspiring rock 

 wlirn contrasted with tlie wt)rk of human hands! 



When we entered the west arm oi Kootenay Lake 

 at the narrt)w gateway of Procter, the lake instantly 

 assumed a dilTerent character. If hitherto we had 

 been steaming up a Canadian Norwegian fjord, we 

 now began to navigate a C^inadian Scottish loch. The 

 mountains were more rounded in outline; their flanks, 

 while not less steep, wore a more friendly and genial 

 aspect; the strips of land at their feet were broader 

 and had a more home-like look. Across the hollows 

 c)f the mountains there hung in many places a thin 

 vapourv haze of deep and vivid purple, softening the 

 outlines, and blending lake, mountain, and sky 

 together in one poetic dream. ^'et, owing to the 

 chillv nature of the evening and the darkling hour at 

 which we began our brief journey down the west arm, 

 the general impression left upon us, wearied as we 

 were with fourteen days of continuous travel, could 

 not verv well have been other than disappointing — 

 disappointing, I mean, from the special point of view 

 of the pri>spective fruit-rancher. 



I knew there were fruit ranches on these shores, 

 I knew the names of men who owned them. I had 

 seen the fruit which grew on them — fruit of great 

 excellence. We cmild not see them, it was true; yet 

 there thev must be 



