"_Because of a serious accident last fall I was compelled to call at one of your trading posts situated at the junction of the Dease river and Liard, run by Mr. F. J. Bass. Mr. Bass did all in his power for me at a time when I was almost destitute and in a very low state of health owing to a broken bone in my right foot and a bad wound on my right side. I wish you would thank Mr. Bass for his hospitality and hope and trust that the Hudson's Bay Company will long remain and prosper in regions where engineers and dogs struggle for life and civilization._ _Yours faithfully, J. P. BURNS._ PAS MOUNTAIN POST NEWS By ALEX HORNE The excitement which always prevails during the breakup around this Reserve was perhaps of a more serious nature this Spring than previous years. Usually the Carrot river on the banks of which the Post is situated, overflows every other second year or so, but this time the flood proved to be a record. The ice broke up on the 23rd of April and started going out on the 26th. During that day it travelled well. As it was the first breakup I had ever witnessed, the sight was most interesting and fascinating. Some of the blocks, I estimated, were perhaps ninety by thirty feet and eighteen to twenty inches thick. These huge blocks were to cause us a considerable amount of discomfort before the day was over. Towards evening it was noticed that the ice was travelling very slowly on the east bend of the river. As the river flows directly south past the Post and then takes a turn east, our view for over a mile is fairly good. We watched with strained eyes and beating hearts, for already the water was rising. Ah! yes, it was only too true, there was a jam! Soon the water was coming over in front of the house. Immediate action was necessary. Canoes had to be attended to, boards, posts, boxes and barrels moved to a place of safety. [Illustration: _The Swirling Waters in Front of the Store._] Very soon the water was making a noise like a waterfall and sweeping everything before it. In a short time the sidewalk was trying to pilot its way through the garden gate. A cord of wood made an effort to follow suit but did not succeed. That night the roaring waters sang us to sleep. All day the ice and driftwood kept going by. At 7 o'clock in the evening the Post was completely surrounded by water and a canoe was for the next few days to be our only mode of travelling. Towards twilight the last of the ice and driftwood passed. We gave a sigh of relief and were about to retire when our attention was attracted by a noise in the bush on the opposite bank of the river; on looking, it was no little surprise to see a birch bark, and three Indians come into sight. From the conversation, we gathered that the country for miles around was under water.