This river is called by the Indians Mistahay Shakow Seepee, or the “Great River of the Woods,” in distinction to the Saskatchewan, the Mistahay Paskwow Seepee, or “Great River of the Plains.” We viewed it in some dismay, for there seemed little hope of rafting across it in safety in its present condition. We were relieved, however, by finding that the track still followed the bank of the river, and from a little bare and rounded knoll we had our first view of the Rocky Mountains. The prospect was a glorious one, and most exhilarating to us, who had lived so long in level country, and for the last three weeks had been buried in dense forest, which shut out every prospect, and almost the light of day. Ranges of pine-clad hills, running nearly north and south, rise in higher and higher succession towards the west, and in the further distance we could see parallel to them a range of rugged, rocky peaks, backed by the snow-clad summits of some giants which towered up beyond. The snow which crowned the loftier peaks, and still lingered in the hollows of the lower hills, glittered in the brilliant sunlight through the soft blue haze which mellowed the scene, and brought the far-distant mountains seemingly close before us. A cleft in the ridge, cut clean as if with a knife, showed us what we supposed to be the opening of the gorge through which we were to pass. The singular rock on the left or eastern side of this gateway, somewhat like the half of a sponge-cake cut vertically, we knew must be one of which we had heard as La Roche à Myette, close to Jasper House. Following the river-valley, we travelled through thick timber, marshes, and boggy ground, pleasantly varied occasionally by beautiful park-like oases of an acre or two in extent, and crossed several small streams, swollen into muddy torrents. In the evening we encamped on a tiny prairie, rich with vetches in full bloom. The frost set in keenly, so that water left standing in the cups overnight showed an incrustation of ice one-eighth of an inch thick in the morning; and Mr. O’B., who persisted in wearing boots in preference to moccasins, found them frozen so hard that we were compelled to delay our start until they were thoroughly thawed. The next day, at noon, we reached a very picturesque little lake, circular in shape, and shut in on every side by lofty mountains, with rugged, precipitous sides. A solitary loon, resting alone on the surface of the lake, sent forth its melancholy wail, and added to the wildness of the place.