A little easterly wind was blowing out of the mouth of the river, accompanied by a fine rain. The tide was out, and it was difficult to find the channel, as it was getting dark. We would run into a sand-bank here and a mud-bank there, until finally we got up the channel some distance and could see the high dry shore of the river. After some considerable effort we got up the mud-bank with our camping outfit, and on to a dry knoll, where we started to make a fire. Gathering together some blocks of cedar and other dry wood, we soon had supper going. All this time my friend was standing in the midst of the rain, his hands in his pockets, shrugging and shaking his shoulders, and remarking at intervals: “Ah say, this is a nasty neet.” “The night is all right,” I replied to him; “stir yourself and let us get something to eat.” Supper and prayers over, we lay down under our tent, and, weary with the toil of the day, were soon fast asleep. It was about one or two o’clock in the morning when my old friend aroused me by shouting, “Ah say, t’ water is comin’ doon t’ back o’ me neck.” It seems that he had got his head close up to the wall of the tent, on the weather side, and the water was running right over his head and down his back. “Oh, stop your noise!” I said, I am afraid a little impatiently, “and let me sleep. Preachers get used to this kind of thing.” “Man, Ah can’t sleep,” he groaned, “t’ water is coomin’ doon t’ back o’ me neck.” Next morning we were around bright and early and off up the river. Sixteen or eighteen miles up the old Fraser against the current required the strength of every muscle, and all the elbow grease we could put into it, to make headway at all, but finally we reached Queensborough (now New Westminster) in safety. A few days after I met our old friend and said, “When will you be ready to return?” “Ah’ll nivver gang back wi’ you,” he replied. “Ah’ll pay t’ last dollar t’ steamboat, an’ gang roon by Victoria. Ah’ll nivver gang wi’ you.” It was an excellent lesson he had learned, for I never heard him croak about the preachers having a nice time after that. CHAPTER XV. _VARIED EXPERIENCES._ “Who love the Lord aright, No soul of man can useless find; All will be precious in His sight, Since Christ on all hath shined.” --_Keble._ Many and varied were my experiences among this people, some painful and distressing, some trying and toilsome, some bright and humorous, some hopeful and encouraging. The kindness of the Indians as well as the whites, and their evident desire to do all they could for my comfort, helped to lighten many a burden and make smoother many a rough pathway.