This important promontory Back subsequently named Victoria. "This, then," observes Back, "may be considered as the mouth of the Thlew-ee-choh, which, after a violent and tortuous course of five hundred and thirty geographical miles, running through an iron-ribbed country, without a single tree on the whole line of its banks, expanding into five large lakes, with clear horizon, most embarrassing to the navigator, and broken into falls, cascades, and rapids, to the number of eightythree in the whole, pours its water into the Polar Sea, in lat. 67° 11′ N., and long. 94° 30′ W., that is to say, about thirty-seven miles more south than the mouth of the Coppermine River, and nineteen miles more south than that of Back's River, at the lower extremity of Bathurst's Inlet."

A

For several days Back was able to make but slow progress along the eastern shore, in consequence of the solid body of drift-ice. A barren, rocky elevation of eight hundred feet high was named Cape Beaufort. bluff point on the eastern side of the estuary, which he considered to be the northern extreme, he named Cape Hay. Dease and Simpson, however, in 1839, traced the shore much beyond this. The difficulties met with here began to dispirit the men. They were almost without water, without any means of warmth, or any kind of warm or comforting food, and sinking knee-deep, as they proceeded on land, in the soft slush and snow. So damp was the weather that for ten days, while encamped on Montreal Island, they could not light a spark of fire, or obtain a warm meal.

The low, flat country was the picture of desolation. "It was one irregular plain of sand and stones; and, had it not been for a rill of water, the meandering of which relieved the monotony of the sterile scene, one might have fancied one's self in one of the parched

plains of the East, rather than on the shores of the Arctic Sea."

With unflinching ardor did Back push forward, in the hope of reaching a more open sea, and connecting their discoveries with those of Captain Franklin at Point Turnagain. On the 7th of August they reached the extreme point of land which terminates the wide mouth of the river, and whence the coast trends to the westward. This was named Point Ogle, and another cape, seen far to the west, was named Point Richardson. Several portions of the coast of Boothia Felix were also seen in the distance to the northward. Here they were completely baffled in every attempt to advance. Back sent, however, a small party to the westward to trace the coast, which was all that could be done; but they were only able to follow the shore about fifteen miles. The surface was level, and void of vegetation. They found, however, several pieces of drift-wood, one of which was nine feet long and nine inches in diameter, which the men jocularly called "a piece of the north pole."

Before

Back now resolved to retrace his steps. doing so, however, the British flag was unfurled, and the land taken possession of, with three enthusiastic cheers, in the name of His Majesty William IV. The latitude of the place was 68° 13′ 57′′ N., longitude 94° 58′ 1′′ W.

In the middle of August they left the cold precincts of the Arctic Sea. In retracing his route Back ascended the high grounds which divide the northern from the southern streams. The Aylmer, the Artillery, and the Clinton Colden Lakes embellish the landscape, and discharge their waters into the Great Slave Lake. Here he found a splendid cascade, of which he says: "The color of the water varied from a very light to a

very dark green; and the spray, which spread a dimness above, was thrown up in clouds of light gray. Niagara, Wilberforce's Falls in Hood's River, the falls of Kakabikka, near Lake Superior, the Swiss or Italian falls, although they may each charm the eye with dread,' are not to be compared to this for splendor of effect. It was the most imposing spectacle I had ever witnessed; and, as its berg-like appearance brought to mind associations of another scene, I bestowed upon it the name of our celebrated navigator, Sir Edward Parry, and called it Parry's Falls."

Of the Indians, Back gives, in his narrative, some interesting anecdotes.

Once, speaking with the Camarade de Mandeville, a potent Chipewyan chief, regarding the due observance of certain moral precepts for his future guidance, the chief listened with most profound attention and gravity. When Back had concluded, he raised his head a little, and, with eyes fixed on the floor, said, in a low and solemn tone, "The chief's words have sunk deep into my heart, and I shall often think of them when I am alone. It is true that I am ignorant; but I never lie down at night in my lodge without whispering to the Great Spirit a prayer for forgiveness, if I have done anything wrong that day."

On the 17th of September the return party met Mr. McLeod, according to appointment, at Sandy-Hill Bay. He had long been expecting them, and had spent many an anxious hour in watching the distant objects in the direction of their route. With this gentleman they returned to Fort Reliance, where they arrived on the 27th, "after an absence of nearly four months; tired, indeed, but well in health, and truly grateful for the manifold mercies we had experienced in the course of our long and perilous journey."

Preparations were soon set on foot to spend another winter in the wilderness. Once more the woods resounded with the woodman's axe, and the little rooms glowed with the blazing fires of wood. Again the nets were set and the guns loaded, and the white man and the red ranged the woods in company; while Back and Mr. King found ample and interesting occupation in mapping their discoveries and writing their journals. On the 28th of May, 1835, Back bade adieu to the polar regions, and returned to England, where he arrived on the 8th of September, after an absence of two years and seven months.

This was not the last of Back's labors. In 1836, at the instance of the Geographical Society, the British government equipped an expedition to complete the discovery of the coast-line between Regent's Inlet and Point Turnagain. The ship Terror was set apart for the service; and Captain Back, just returned from his great land journey, was appointed to the command.

The Terror left Chatham on the 14th of June, 1836. On the 29th of July, when a good way across the mouth of Davis's Straits, she came first in view of the ice. The quantity of it was great, and one enormous berg presented a vertical face of not less than three hundred feet in height. Occasional clear and pleasant runs were afterwards made, but, in general, the obstructions were incessant and tremendous. And, so early as from the 1st to the 3d of August, when the ship was near the vexed and foggy shores of Resolution Island, she had to bore and manoeuvre her way among dense floes, high packs, and surging whirlpools.

On the 8th of August she was moored to a large iceberg for protection from a gale. But the berg looked dangerous, and was anxiously watched by the officers, lest it should capsize and overwhelm them. Early

next morning it was violently struck on the weatherside by a heavy drifting floe, and for some minutes it rocked and oscillated in awful menace of an overturn; but a large piece fell with a splash into the sea from one of its corners, and providentially restored the equilibrium.

On the 14th of August the Terror entered the narrows between Salisbury Island and the north coast. A resolution was now taken to steer for the Frozen Strait. The course for four days continued to be severe, yet afforded considerable promise. But, on the 18th, after the ship had worked for some time in only one hole of water, she was arrested by a dense unbroken pack, of fearful extent and most wildly rugged surface. Yet the ship pushed boldly into it, and very soon, to the surprise and joy of all, the stupendous mass went asunder, and disclosed a path through what seemed an impenetrable barrier.

On the 23d of August they sighted Baffin Island, which flanks the north side of the entrance of the Frozen Strait. But they found not a channel or a waterlane, even of the width of a brook, to invite them on. The scene everywhere around was a tumulated sea of ice, without one break, without one cheering feature, and with a surface so rough, and heaved, and peaked, that no human being could have travelled on it for more than a very brief distance. They all but abandoned expectation of ever getting into the Frozen Strait, and were now glad to attempt to work their way toward Southampton Island. They warped and bored, and spent many an hour in feverish excitement. On the 25th they made some little distance through a slack; but at sunset they were stopped near an extensive floe, where, from the effects of pressure, some ponderous masses, not unlike the blocks of a Titanian ruin, had been heaped