bearings—the crests and quarterings—of an ancient
and mysterious people, whose folk-lore and whose
tribal wars have steeped the country in their legends.
Here is the land of the Golden Twilight, of long sum-
mer days when the sun lingers in the evening sky
and darkness steals on tiptoe. One feels that one
is in another country, another continent, where
space becomes not the confined area as the cities
are known, but rather Nature itself.

And now that we have traversed the land of the
Golden Twilight, and having absorbed the primeval
beauty that lured us on why not take time for yet
another fleeting visit to a ‘Land of Golden Harvest”
—the Okanagan Valley. For our convenience we
enter the valley at a point on the International
boundary line leading from the inland metropolis
of the State of Washington—Spokane, where out of
the desert a city full of architectural beauty has
sprung, and enter the peaceful country ripe with sub-
tropical fruits at Oliver, irrigated from the Okanagan
river. Orchard upon orchard spreads itself over the
entire surrounding countryside and the products
therefrom ultimately find their way to the furthermost
corners of the world. We then pass along highways

flanked with shaded trees, keeping close to the cool- ©

ing waters of the river draining into the beautiful

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