Five miles from our last night’s camp we leave Bear Creek and follow a small stream to the south. Half a mile further brings us to the summit. At last there is pasture for the poor horses, so they are unloaded and unsaddled and turned out to their food. Our dinner, too, is prepared, although it is not yet noon. The horses require rest and we ourselves are now in no hurry to proceed. There is a grassy knoll in our neighbourhood which might have been placed in the most sylvan of scenes, and we recline at our full ease to enjoy the scene around us. Nothing would have been gained by leaving before the horses had satisfied themselves. I recollected that I had a package of cigars, a gift from our genial Ottawa friend, Mr. N----. They had crossed and re-crossed the Atlantic with me during the present summer, and it was little thought when they came into my possession that their aroma would mingle with the atmosphere of a summit in the Selkirk range. They are produced. We have no wine, so we can only congratulate Major Rogers over the cigars on the discovery of a pass so far practicable and on certain conditions appearing to furnish a solution of the problem of crossing over the Selkirk range instead of making a detour, following the Columbia by the Boat Encampment. We are now 4,600 feet above the sea, surrounded by mountains of all forms, pyramidal, conical and serrated. They are marked in bold relief on the lofty sky line. Between them the everlasting glaciers present the most remarkable variety of appearance. Westward there is an open valley with great peaks which stands out in the dim distance. It is by looking north in the direction whence we came that we have the grandest view. The valley is to all appearance completely enclosed by what seemed to be impenetrable mountains. The defile which we entered is not visible, although the entrance is dimly seen clothed in shadow through the smoky air. Towering high near the crest there is a series of glaciers extending for half a mile or more from north to south.