The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1833-1916, 1914-01-11


- Valley, British Columbia) is
place that smiles on the trav-
eller on his arrival, calls him
back the moment he has left it-and
keeps calling. The raising of fruit is q
kindlier task than the tunnellng Of
the mountains.
There seems a tendency for miners
to become like moles. The coal getters
seem to gather some Of the blackness
Of coal into their lives. They who
mine for silver lead are brighter.
Though, in the words of the old time
COW men, they too are 'defacers Of the
bosom Of nature" some of the hard
brightness Of sparkling galena seems to
be in them; there is all the difference
in the world between the coal towns
and the silver towns.
But fruit growers get something on
| them like the bloom on peach. a life
led in giving water to fruit trees-just
enough, not too much-in protecting
them from parasitical fiies--a fruit
growers life. all lived in the sunshine
and the dry, clear air with a tremen-
dous blue sky overhead and sandy yell
low roads winding through his scented
world among the hills. is nearer the
| ideal.
Lafcadio Hearn would surely have
loved Penticton, and in words like jew
els would have told Of the ripples on the
lake. how they are like thousands OF
| little wavering mirrors flashing and
Pickering with as many colors as an
| opal He would have delighted In the
| golden and silvery pennons of dust
| fluttcring after the rigs driven or
| ponies ridden IN and out of town.
y white stcrnWhcclcr comes To- PEN
| tictOn long after dark and sheds the
strong rays of "A searchlight shorcward
| so as To Hume the landing-incidental
| lighting up the world in the most witch
| ing way. Even the mere dollar pursuer
must enjoy these things, for surely tho
| happy child and the artist are in every
| man. neither to be thrOttlcd even by
| the struggle to make a living nor quite
eXiled. without even brief returns. by
the lust to make Il living enough for a
| hundred rational men.
They have their worries at pentiCton
| as elsewhere--but if worry must come
to man 1t is not a bad plan To make the
scene of it as pleasing as possible. color
| is great thing. And here there is
color For me, | could spend days Just
| loating in pentCton. seeing people ride
| III 10 Stores anu IllCH tltU spTlteu
| ponies to telegraph poles while they
are shopping; listen to the lake splash
| ing, hear the pittcrpatter in the dust
of hoofs Of the ponies.
The Okanagan Indians. south of the
town, "A cheerful band, have not lived
| in vain among the color of this dry
| belt" land. They have learned the color
| schemes taught by the yellow sands, the
blue skies, the russell hands of timber
| along the higher hills. The blue hand
| kcrChiefs on their heads, their big,
| glistening earrings. their dusty yellow
| moccasins. their varicgated shawls--
| these splash more color in the place
| when they come gliding into town in
! their bugges, with perhaps a pichald
pony and "A milk white one running in
| harness.
Change is busy here. Ten years ago
| the talk was all of steers and horses
| now II is of irrigation and fruit. over
the hotel dinner tables men tell each
| other not how many baskets they have
| shipped. hut say, "pshaw. | had to
| throw away half ton for want Of
| shipping facilities" But whether this
| is merely IA Western picturesque method
| of saying that the harvest was good
or whether it is literal fact, | know not.