[Sidenote: Sunday, 14th.] We set off aided by a fresh breeze this morning, and at the end of seven miles came to the last of the fir trees, in latitude 68 degrees 40 minutes N., the only wood beyond this being stunted willows, which became still more dwarfish at thirty miles from the mouth of the river. There was plenty of drift-wood on the borders of the islands, and some even on the higher parts, at a distance from the water; from which it would appear that at certain seasons they are inundated. At length the main stream took a turn to the S.S.W., which we followed, though there was a branch northwards, but it seemed to be much impeded by mud-banks.[1] At the end of eight miles the river again inclined to the north of west, round the southern extremity of Halkett island, and there were openings to the north and south, which we did not stop to examine. A fog-bank hung over the northern horizon, which gave us no little uneasiness, from its strong resemblance to a continuous line of ice-blink; and the clouds, from the sun-beams falling on them, had the exact appearance of icebergs. However, the sun became sufficiently powerful in the afternoon to dissipate the cause of this illusion, and relieve us from anxiety on that score. A body of water, nearly equal to that we were descending, poured in between the Colville and Halkett islands with such force as to cause a very strong ripple at the point of junction, which we avoided by keeping close to the shore of Langley island. The channel, after the union of these streams, increased to a breadth of two miles, preserving a N.N.W. course. We stood twelve miles in this direction, and two to the westward, when we were gratified by the delightful prospect of the shore suddenly diverging, and a wide space of open water to the northward, which we doubted not would prove to be the sea. Just at this time a seal made its appearance, and sported about the boat as if in confirmation of this opinion. We attempted to coast along the shore of Ellice island, but found the water too shallow, and that the boat grounded whenever we got out of the channel of the river, which was near the western side. The wind and waves were too high for us to make any progress in the middle of the stream, and as the clouds threatened more boisterous weather, we went to Pitt island to encamp. The haze which had hidden all distant objects since five P.M. passed off as the sun set, and we gained a very magnificent view of that portion of the rocky mountain which I have called after my companion Dr. Richardson, and of which the remarkable conical peak, named in honour of my friend Dr. Fitton, President of the Geological Society, and the Cupola mountain, are the most conspicuous objects. These were subsequently found to be near sixty miles distant. The water was entirely fresh, and there was no perceptible rise of tide. Our drowsy companion Baptiste, when he looked upon the vast expanse of water, for the first time, expressed some apprehension that we had passed the Forks, and that there was a doubt of our seeing the Indian chief; but he was by no means convinced of the fact until the following day, when he tasted salt water, and lost sight of the main shore. After our Sunday evening's supper, the party assembled in the tent to read prayers, and return thanks to the Almighty, for having thus far crowned our labours with success.