But even then he must not buy a farm till he knows something about it, and he cannot be long out here before he will find out where the good land is. A Canadian whom I met at Calgary, told me that he knew a farm near Toronto which was regularly in the market every year. It is safe to be bought by an Englishman, who tries it for a time, gives it up in despair, and then it comes into the market again. ‘Are there any stones on the farm?’ asked an Englishman, after he had purchased his farm. ‘I only saw one,’ was the encouraging reply: and it was a truthful one. There was but one stone, but then it embraced the surface of the whole farm. The English purchaser must have his wits about him. Here he is by many regarded as a stranger, and they take him in. The poet tells us where ignorance is bliss ’tis folly to be wise. Ignorance is not bliss in Canada, emigrants really must have their wits about them or they will suffer much. Near Moosomin there is some fine country where many English have settled. Only last week an Englishman selected a farm in that locality for a homestead. He at once proceeded there, having at considerable expense hired a conveyance for his wife and four children. When he got there he found the land already occupied. To add to his troubles, when he returned to Moosomin one of his children died; the result is that the wife has grown home-sick, the poor man disheartened; he wants to return to England, but he has already exhausted his means. This want of harmony between the land office and the guides, according to _The Manitoba Free Press_, is said to be of frequent occurrence. The Dominion Government ought to see to this. They are eager to promote emigration, but many such cases will make English farmers naturally a little reluctant to come out. CHAPTER X. DANGERS OF THE ROCKIES.—PRAIRIE FIRES.—THE RETURN.—PORT ARTHUR.—MIGRANTS. There is a great deal of snow in the Rockies. In June that snow begins to melt. The result is, a violent body of water rushes down, which makes the railway people very uncomfortable. On Sunday I met the engine-driver of the train by which I was to travel east next morning. At Holt City it seems no one knows from what particular spot the train will start. ‘You won’t start without me?’ I said. ‘No; I will look to see whether you are on board.’ ‘But,’ said I, ‘you must leave at five, whether I am on board or not.’ ‘Oh! as to that,’ he said, ‘no one can make me start before I am ready. But,’ said he, ‘perhaps we may not get away at all. I don’t like the look of the bridge, and there is a deal of water about.’ I smiled incredulously. Had not I seen, only an hour before, with my own eyes, a special train arrive from the west filled with labourers and freight? If that could cross in safety, surely our lighter train could do the same.