We are indebted for a temporary home to the hospitable factor of the Hudson’s Bay Company. Naturally one of our first acts is to report our arrival to our friends in the east. Unfortunately the telegraph line is down and the operator absent repairing it. Deeming it of importance that no time should be lost we despatch an Indian courier with messages to the next station, Savona’s Ferry, thirty miles distant. We all feel that after our tramp we are entitled to a few hours’ additional rest. It is true that for the most part we have slept soundly every night of our journey; indeed, if men could not sleep after serious work like ours, it would be hard to say when they could do so. But we had not indulged in the luxury of late hours. We were always up at day-break, and I never heard the complaint that any of us had slept too long. One satisfaction we had, we can thankfully say that we were generally spared the penalty of loss of sleep. Last night, however, was an exception. In my own case the wounds on my hands, swollen by the poison of the devil’s club, made sleep impossible. We resolved accordingly to pass the afternoon quietly at the Hudson’s Bay post, and retire early to bed; in this case not a figure of speech, for under this roof we had all the comforts of civilization. We were up in good time next morning. I paid what bills we owed, bade farewell to our Kamloops friends, said good-bye to Mr. McLean and his Indians, and prepared to proceed westward. A steamer had been engaged to take us to Savona’s Ferry. We started about nine o’clock, skirting along the north shore of Lake Kamloops by Battle Bluff. We returned by the south side, examining the ground adjoining Cherry Bluff. The day was fine, so the trip was pleasant. The sky was as clear and the air as pure and balmy as on an Italian lake. The steamer touched at a place called Tranquille, where the land has been irrigated. In this instance the experiment has been in all respects satisfactory. The result is shown in a good garden with excellent fruit and vegetables. At Savona’s Ferry I received messages by telegraph, and I was reminded of being once more within the circle of artificial wants and requirements. For the last thirty days we have been out of the world, knowing nothing beyond the experience of our daily life. Our leading thoughts were of the difficulties which lay in our path and of the labour necessary to overcome them. There was nothing vicarious in our position; there was no transfer of care or labour to others. Each one had to accept what lay before him, and our world for the time was in our little circle. Now we are reminded that we are again in another condition of being. There is scarcely anything more powerful to recall the attention to this change than the receipt of a telegram sent across a continent to remove anxieties as to home and family.