Warburton Pike, here mentioned, was a splendid specimen of an Englishman, who was to British Columbia and Arctic Canada what Selous himself was to Africa. In his person existed a type of pioneer as modest as courageous. His travels and privations in the Arctic barren grounds made him known to most people in Canada, whilst his unselfish devotion and unfailing kindness to his fellow colonists endeared him to thousands of "voyageurs" who battled with the forces of Nature in the far North-West. He had a little mine amongst the Jack pines above Dease Lake where he lived, in the four working months, chiefly on tea, game and "flapjacks." Here he wrested from a refractory soil about as much gold as would have satisfied a Chinaman. Nevertheless, he toiled on year after year, because he had faith and the grit that bites deep even when common sense says, "Is it good enough?" Every spring saw "Pikey" full of hope, dragging his canoe with two Indians up the rain-drenched valley of the Stikine for 200 miles, and then on with pack-horses to his mine, another 100 miles, and every fall he raced downward to the sea, disappointed, but undefeated. When people met him in Vancouver, they would say, "How goes it, Pikey?" Then his kind face would light up. "Splendid," he would reply, though he had hardly enough money to buy bread and butter. Yet no one ever appealed to Warburton Pike in vain, for on the rare occasions when he had a little money he invariably gave it away to his less fortunate friends. Every wastrel and miner on the Pacific slope knew "Pikey" and asked his advice and help, which was ever forthcoming, and in the eyes of the colonists he was the man who embodied the type of all that was best. From Vancouver to the Yukon and from St. Michaels to the Mackenzie, the name of Warburton Pike was one to conjure with, and though comparatively unknown in England, his noble spirit will never be forgotten in the homes of all those who knew and loved him. Like all good men, he came to England in 1914, to play his part in the Great War, and I think it broke his heart when he found no one would employ him. He suffered a nervous breakdown, and in a fit of depression he took his own life in the summer of 1916. He published a few books, among which the best-known is "Through the Sub-Arctic Forest." Selous had long cherished a desire to add to his great collection of African trophies a specimen of the Giant Eland of the Lower Sudan. An expedition for this purpose, however, without outside aid would have been to him too expensive a trip, so he made certain arrangements with Lord Rothschild and the British Museum which helped to alleviate the financial strain. After this had been successfully effected, he left on January 19th, 1911. Thus he writes of his plans on the eve of departure:-- "MY DEAR JOHNNY,