A New Charr from British Columbia. 343 



upheaval in the centre has greatly exceeded that along its 

 margins are speculations for g-eologists to decide. 



These terrace formations, as they are styled, must strike 

 the most obtuse traveller as being unlike anything he has 

 seen before in other parts of the world. There is hardly a 

 valley between the Rocky Mountains and the Pacific coast 

 lower than 4000 feet above the sea in which these shingle 

 terraces are not met with. Two miles across the shingle, 

 which is but sparsely covered with timber, brings us to a 

 beautiful stream, the Qua-que-alla, clear as crystal, and cold 

 as ice. It has a swift rocky course, and as we look into the 

 glass-like water, brigades of salmon (Salmo lycaodon) are 

 seen toiling on, all with their heads up stream, literally crowd- 

 ing one another against the rocks and banks, the bright 

 scarlet stripe marking the sides of every fish; the worn noses 

 and large ulcerous wounds that have eaten holes into the living 

 fish, tell their own tales of hardships, difficulties, and priva- 

 tions, endured in obeying an instinct ever prompting them 

 to deposit their eggs as high up in the mountain streams as 

 they can get. Neither can we be blind to the fact that another 

 purpose is fulfilled by the bountiful hand of God, thus direct- 

 ing myriads of fish to quit the sea, and enter rivers intersect- 

 ing the interior of a continent or an island. This obedience 

 to an unalterable law is a simple means by which heat-yielding 

 materials, and meat requiring sunshine only to cure it (salmon 

 sun-dried will keep sound for years), are floated, free of all 

 freight, to the dwellings of the aborigines who live far inland, 

 and have to endure a rigorous winter and six months snow. 



It is not at all overstating the fact to say, that four out of 

 every six of these salmon we are watching, will die as they 

 struggle onwards, and drift back again in rotting masses, 

 towards the ocean from whence they came. 



We only follow this stream for a short distance to reach 

 its junction with a second stream, up the course of which we 

 ride by following a narrow trail. Where the forest is a little 

 open we can look upwards through the trees and discern the 

 water-shed of the Cascade Mountains. The waters of the 

 eastern side find their way into the Columbia, whilst these 

 on the west flow into the Eraser. The hill we are ascending 

 is steep, and the river tumbles from rock to rock with tre- 

 mendous force ; a louder roar than we have been listening to, 

 directs us to a waterfall, where the river plunges over a 

 vertical wall of rock, and puts an effectual stop to the salmon's 

 further ascent (bear this fact in mind) . 



We by-and-by reach a kind of plateau, where the water 

 has a slower course ; now we will tether our mustangs, put 

 our fishing-gear into working order, and commence work. 



