sorts of cracks and crevices had to be utilized, and narrow, icy rifts were sometimes the only avenues of access to the tops of smooth, unbroken cliffs.

Thus step by step the advance continued, till, after a final scramble up a gully lined with solid ice and almost as steep and narrow as a chimney, we stood triumphantly upon the south arête, the summit in full view not more than 300 feet above us, reached by an easy ridge of snow, and Mount Assiniboine we knew was ours!

The strangest part of our ascent lay in the fact that now for the first time we saw the actual summit, as we had never had an opportunity of prospecting the mountain from the side of our ascent, and its cliffs rose so steeply during our approach that we could never see more than a short distance beyond us.

White, vaporous clouds had been slowly drifting up for the last hour, and, fearing a repetition of the previous day's experience and the loss of our view, we hurried on to the top, pausing only a few moments to enjoy the panorama, to renew acquaintance with our "Lost Peak," now 500 feet below us, and to take a picture through the mist of the white summit, with its splendid eastern precipice.

A quarter of an hour sufficed to complete our victory, and at half-past twelve we stood as conquerors 11,860 feet above the sea (government survey altitude from distant bases), on probably the loftiest spot in Canada on which human foot has been planted.

The summit is a double one, crowned with ice and snow, the two points rising from the extremities of an almost level and very narrow ridge 150 feet in length, at the apex of the sharp arêtes from north and south. On the western side snowslopes tilted downward at a very acute angle, while on the east a stupendous precipice was overhung by a magnificent succession of enormous cornices, from which a fringe of massive icicles depended. One at a time, -the other two securely anchored, - we crawled with the utmost caution to the actual highest point, and peeped over the edge of the huge, overhanging crest, down the sheer wall to a great shining glacier 6000 feet or more below.

The view on all sides was remarkable,

although the atmosphere was somewhat hazy, and unsuitable for panoramic photography. Perched high upon our isolated pinnacle, full 1500 feet above the loftiest peak for many miles around, below us lay unfolded range after range of brown-gray mountains, patched with snow and sometimes glacier-hung, intersected by deep chasms or broader wooded valleys. A dozen lakes were visible, nestling between the outlying ridges of our peak, which proudly stands upon the backbone of the continent and supplies the head-waters of three rivers, the Cross, the Simpson, and the Spray.

Far away to the northwest, beyond Mount Ball and the Vermilion Range, we could descry many an old friend among the mountains of the railroad belt: Mount Goodsir and the Ottertails, Mount Stephen and Mount Temple, with the giants of the Divide, Victoria, Lefroy, Hungabee, and many others, a noble group of striking points and glistening glaciers.

The main ridge northward, after a sharp descent of fifty feet, falls gently for a hundred yards or so, and then takes a wild pitch down to the glaciers at the mountain's base. When we arrived at this point (only through my insistence, for the guides were anxious to return at once the way we came), we looked down on the imposing face that is perhaps Assiniboine's most characteristic feature.

On our right the drop is perpendicular, a mighty wall with frequent overhanging strata and a pure snow-curtain hanging vertically beneath the crowning cornice. But the north face, though not so sheer or awesome, is perhaps still more striking and unique. The shining steeps of purest ice, the encircling belts of time-eroded cliffs, sweep downward with tremendous majesty. Between the two a ragged ridge is formed, narrow and broken, like a series of roughly fractured wall-ends.

As we gazed, the question passed round, "Could we not manage to get down this way?" and the hope of crowning the triumph by a traverse of the mountain, conquering its reputed inaccessible ramparts (and that, too, in a descent), together with the prospect of an absolutely first-class climb, decided the reply in the affirmative. True, at least three great bands of rock lay there below us, any one of which might prove an insurmountable obstacle and

necessitate a retracing of our footsteps, with the probable consequence of a night out, at a considerable altitude, among the icy fastnesses; but we had found some crack or cranny heretofore in their courses on the farther side, and-well, we would try to find an equally convenient right of way on this face, too.

So, after a halt of nearly two hours, at twenty minutes past two we embarked upon our final essay.

Well roped and moving generally one at a time, we clambered downward foot by foot, now balancing upon the narrow ridge, 5000 feet of space at our right hand; then scrambling down a broken wall-end, the rocks so friable that hand-hold after handhold had to be abandoned, and often half a dozen tested before a safe one could be found; now, when the ridge became too jagged or too sheer, making our cautious way along a tiny ledge or down the face itself, clinging to the cold buttresses, our fingers tightly clutching the scant projection of some icy knob, or digging into small interstices between the rocks; anon, an ice-slope had to be passed with laborious cutting of steps in the hard, walllike surface; and again, cliff after cliff must be reconnoitered, its slippery upper rim traversed until a cleft was found and a gymnastic descent effected to the icebound declivity that fell away beneath its base.

For close upon 2000 feet the utmost skill and care were imperative at every step; for scarcely half a dozen could be taken, in that distance, where an unroped man who slipped would not inevitably have followed the rejected hand-holds and debris that hurtled down in leaps and bounds, to crash into fragments on the rocks and boulders far below.

But with a rope a careful party of experienced mountaineers is absolutely free from danger; and though it took our usually rapid trio three and a half hours to descend some 1800 feet, our confidence was fully justified, for nothing insurmountable obstructed our advance, and, after a brief halt below the last cliff wall, a gay descent, on snow that needed no stepcutting, brought us soon after six o'clock. to easier, continuous rocks, where we unroped.

A speedy spell swinging down rocks, with an occasional glissade, landed us on

the glacier in forty minutes, and an hour later, in the gathering darkness, we approached the camp, after an absence of thirteen and a half hours, greeted by shouts of welcome and congratulation from Peyto and Sinclair, who had seen us on the summit, and strains of martial music from the latter's violin.

Before turning in, we took a last look at the splendid obelisk above us, radiant in the moonlight against the dark, starstrewn canopy of heaven. A last look it proved, for next morning we awoke to a white world, with nothing visible of Mount Assiniboine but an occasional glimpse, through sweeping, leaden clouds, of its steep flanks deeply covered with the freshly fallen snow.

The return journey was begun at one o'clock that afternoon, and Desolation Valley was traversed in the snow and rain, and we encamped in the flat pasture at the head of Simpson Valley.

Next day we made a most tremendous march in the teeth of a driving snow-storm. The valley, with its gaunt, spectral treetrunks, was drearier and more weird than ever; the blackened timber, outlined against the snow, showed in a mazy network; the bushes, with their load of fruit, peeped out forlornly amid their wintry environment, and every flower bore a tiny burden on its drooping head. The steep ascent of 1500 feet was made in everdeepening snow, and on the alp above we met the fierce blasts of the keen north wind, sweeping across the unprotected uplands. Wearied with our forced marches and two long days of arduous climbing, the tramping through the soft, drifting snow, the steady upward trend of our advance, and the hard conflict with the driving storm, it was with deep relief that we crossed the final ridge and descended to calmer regions through the dark, snowladen pines. Still on we went, down Healy Creek to the Bow Valley, where the packers camped with their tired horses, and the guides and I tramped on two hours more to Banff, arriving there just five days and five hours from the time of our departure.

Our toils were over. Next morning we were again in our comfortable quarters at Field, well satisfied. In spite of adverse weather conditions, the expedition had been intensely interesting from start to

HE United States is the greatest horse

this time, therefore, when other agencies are coming into competition with horses for many purposes, and are being substituted for horses in many others, it is proper for us to consider what it is wise to do in order that there shall not be too serious losses in an industry as great as it is widespread and interesting. A few years ago the horses in the United States were valued at eleven hundred million dollars. Business depression, together with the competition and substitutions referred to, depreciated this stock more than one half. But there has been an appreciation within a few years, owing to business revival and ensuing prosperity, so that the value of the horses in the country had risen more than two hundred million dollars at the end of the last fiscal year, June, 1902, from what the value was at the low-water mark referred to. It is interesting to record that even during the time of the greatest depression really fine specimens of horseflesh were in demand at high prices, while good horses never commanded more money than at this time. Within the last few years the horse market has been stimulated by the army demands. Not only our own increased army had to be provided, but thousands were also bought for the use of the British in South Africa.

Notwithstanding the importance of horse-breeding as an industry in this country, there is at this time no distinctly American horse type. The racing thoroughbred is English, the heavy draft-horse is French, the hackney is English, and the trotting horse, as bred at present for track and road service, is not a type at all. An animal type cannot be said to be established until it reproduces itself with reasonable certainty. This the standard-bred trotting

horse, on which we have plumed ourselves for forty years past, does not do. Exact statistics are quite impossible to obtain, but it cannot be that more than two per cent. of the standard-bred trotters fulfil the intention of their breeders and trot fast, while more than fifty per cent. of those that develop any notable speed are not trotters at all, but pacers. So it is absurd to call this a type on account either of gait, action, speed, or conformation. In conformation they appear to come in all sizes and shapes, and to be as far from a fixed type as possible. Indeed, there is no use in blinking the fact that even the prizewinners among the standard-bred trotters are chiefly useful as parts of a gambling game, serving the relative purpose of the roulette wheel and the pack of cards. The pity of it is that in the efforts to create this fast-trotting type several distinct American types of great value have been lost. That we may see how this has happened, let us go quickly and briefly through the history of the horse in America.

The Spaniards were the first to bring horses to this continent, though the paleontologists tell us that the rocks abound with fossils which show that Equida were numerous all over America in the Eocene period. It is a singular fact, however, that there were no horses in America when the first Europeans came hither. It is not necessary to go so far back for our present purpose, nor is it worth while to consider more than casually the wild horses of the Western plains-horses which sprang from the castaways of the Spanish explorers and adventurers. The horses in America to-day that are worthy of study have none of this blood in them, but have been domesticated from the time of their importation, and have never reverted to a wild state. The horses brought to America in the colonial