Monday came and with it our determination to start by the steamer for New Westminster. We gratefully said good-bye to our polished host and hostess, whose kindness reminded me of what I had heard of the hospitality of the old Knickerbocker families. During our stay at Yale it was hard to believe that we were not in some hospitable mansion on the banks of the Hudson. We take with us a dug-out canoe and a crew of Indians to paddle us on our journey when we deem it advisable to leave the boat. My purpose is to proceed by steamer to the point which on Saturday night I reached by hand-car and then take to the canoe. I will thus be enabled fully to examine the whole line in the valley of the Fraser. The steamer is by no means of little account on these waters, to judge by the passengers that she carries and the places she stops at. Our landings are frequent, to receive or discharge freight, cattle and passengers. We reach the spot where, with my son, I go on board the canoe. We arrive at Harrison River at half-past three. I was met at this point by Mr. Brophy, also an old Intercolonial friend. Mr. Wilmot, who has hitherto kindly accompanied us, goes on shore. We ourselves continue our descent of the Fraser. The three Indians paddle at a good pace down the Nicomen Slough to a point off Sumas. It is after six and twilight is coming on, so we find our way through a cross channel to the main river. We believe that any other course would be hazardous, so we follow the stream to the point where Dr. Grant was to leave the steamer and where we expect to meet him. The Fraser is wide at this spot and the current swift but we keep the centre of the river. The Indians continue to paddle briskly. We float down the current very rapidly. The air is much warmer than we have yet experienced it, both when we were in the mountains and since we reached Kamloops. Night comes on, and although there is no moon the sky is without a cloud and the stars shine brightly, giving us enough light to guide our canoe. We still keep to the middle of the river where the stream is the strongest. About eight o’clock we see a light on the shore towards which we paddle, and as we approach we hear the well known voice of Dr. Grant. We find supper waiting for us for which we are indebted to Mrs. Perkins, who keeps a workman’s boarding house. But we had a mile further to paddle to the engineers’ camp, where we are to find beds. They receive us as hospitably as engineers always receive men accredited to them. They insist on me taking the one stretcher they have; the rest of the party find rest on the floor. We were up early, for although we had come sixty miles yesterday we were anxious to continue our journey. A heavy fog made it impossible to leave before nine. We paddle for an hour and a half until we reach Stave River, where we land. There is a fine view of Mount Baker, forty miles distant, when the weather is clear, but there is too much mist in the air to-day for us to see it.