horizon, bounded by a bold ridge which threw out its two great peaks to overhang the pass. This was one of the most picturesque spots in the Caledonian valley, combining a soft lowland and woodland beauty with stern, rocky masses capped with eternal snow. We were 3,700 feet above the sea, but the air was soft and warm. Even at night it was only pleasantly cool. We were all delighted with this our first view of the Yellow Head pass.
September 16th. Our aim today was to reach Moose lake, twenty-four miles distant. The first half of the day was more like a pleasure trip than work. A gentle ascent brought us to the summit, which was found to be almost a continuous level, the trail following the now smooth-flowing Myette till the main branch entered the valley from the north, and then a small branch till it too disappeared among the hills. A few minutes afterwards the sound of a rivulet running in the opposite direction over a red pebbly bottom was heard. Thus we left the Myette flowing to the Arctic ocean, and now came upon this, the source of the Fraser, hurrying to the Pacific. At the summit Moberly welcomed us into British Columbia, for we were at length out of "No man's land," and had entered the western province of our Dominion. Round the rivulet running west the party gathered and drank from its waters to the Queen and the Dominion. There had been little or no frost near the summit, and flowers were in bloom that we had seen a month ago farther east. Before encamping for the night we continued our journey some twenty-six miles farther into British Columbia, well satisfied that no incline could be more gentle than the trail we had followed to the Pacific slope through the Yellow Head pass.
Among my memories of the mountains, I may here allude to a curious episode. We had a toilsome journey of about two weeks from Yellow Head pass to
