Page 88, line 19, _for_ blubbering _read_ blubbery 〃 105, 〃 20, _for_ within _read_ in 〃 157, 〃 2, _for_ scenery on my left. The _read_ scenery. On my left the 〃 158, 〃 23, _for_ Nimkis _read_ Nimkish 〃 164, 〃 9, _for_ this cannon _read_ these cannons 〃 177, 〃 13, _for_ cauiare _read_ caviare 〃 179, 〃 9, _for_ are _read_ is; and line 16, _for_ fourteen _read_ seven 〃 195, 〃 9, _for_ three _read_ one 〃 232, 〃 8, _for_ pack and equipment _read_ pack equipment 〃 268, 〃 5, heading to chapter, _for_ The Desert Prong-horned _read_ The Desert—Prong-horned 〃 296, 〃 8, _for_ Reiney _read_ Reiner 〃 349, 〃 12, _for_ Actomys _read_ Arctomys VANCOUVER ISLAND AND BRITISH COLUMBIA. CHAPTER I. THE VOYAGE. Whether Good Friday was more unlucky than Fridays usually are, in the estimation of sea-going men, I know not, but from England to St. Thomas we encountered a succession of headwinds and terrific seas. Of course it was the regular typical storm: ‘waves running mountains high, threatening instantaneously to engulph the struggling ship in a watery abyss; rent sails, creaking timbers, men lashed to the wheel (real tarry Ixions); screaming mothers, and remarkably sick papas and passengers,’—that ended in our case, as it usually does in all sensation sea-voyages. St. Thomas was arrived at in perfect safety, some few days after time. Amongst the passengers was a lady, fat beyond anything I have ever seen (of the human kind) outside a show. From the time of her appearance in the morning until her bedtime, she invariably sat in one place—her throne a small sofa, behind the cabin-door. Flying-fish were constantly driven on the deck of the steamer, or flung up into the sponsons by the paddlewheels; and being most anxious to preserve some of these curious tenants of the ocean, I tried every means to procure them; but the ‘stout party,’ by resorting to most unjustifiable bribing, so enslaved the sordid mind of the steward, that he got hold of the fish in spite of me, and actually had the delicate beauties cooked, and ignominiously fried at the galley-fire, for that terrible old lady to eat. With regret and indignation I have watched her munching them up, and wickedly longed to see her prostrated by that terrible leveller seasickness, or the victim of dyspepsia—evil wishes of no avail: she ate on, in healthful hungry defiance of wind and waves, and the wrath of an injured naturalist.