[CHAPTER III.]
A HOME LETTER.
Banff, July 26, 189—.
Dear mother:
I know you will want to hear from your children as often as possible, so I write to-day, for both Adelaide and myself, to tell you of our wanderings, and of the wonderful scenes in the midst of which we are resting this bright Sunday.
In my last letter mailed at Brandon, I told you about the railroad ride from Montreal, north of the Great Lakes, through the country where the Jesuit missionaries labored so nobly two centuries ago, and across the green prairies and scorched alkali desert of Manitoba.
On the morning after that terribly hot day, we looked westward—and our journey seemed likely to come to an end then and there. A mighty barrier stretched across our path from north to south. Rising dimly, through the morning mists, their summits hidden among the clouds, their tawny flanks scarred with ravines and whitened with snow, rose the Rocky Mountains.
Soon the train stopped, and we were told of a cascade in the woods near by, bearing the Indian name of Kananaskis. Off we tramped across a bit of flowery upland, snatching handfuls of aster, painted cup and harebell as we went; then down through a thicket of blue-tipped firs, until we heard the voice of many waters calling softly to us.
Another moment and we stood on the brink of the foaming, dashing, sparkling cataract, pouring grandly down its rocky path, as it had done in the days of Paul and Barnabas of Joshua; yes, and of Ahasuerus the king. At the very moment when Queen Esther, the “Star,” stood before the haughty monarch pleading for her people, the stars above shone above the white falls of Kananaskis as they do to-night; the rushing waters lifted up their voice and hastened to their work in the lonely forest; while the Father of all looked down on the silent firs, the silver stream, and the proud walls of Shushan, patient and loving, waiting for his children to know him and his wonderful works, and to love and serve him with gladness of heart.