of all kinds; magnificent timber, excellent
breeding-grounds for cattle; bears truly, and
Indians, and tremendous rains, and a want of
hands to work the ground, but capabilities of all
kinds, agricultural and commercial, and an evident
future before the colony: this was the
true state of the country which had been so
dismally represented: these the fruits found behind
those terrible hedges set up to keep in
what was in, and to keep out what was out,
that the beavers and martens and minks and
sables might go through only one net—that
of the Hudson's Bay Company—and no skins
be dropped on the highway for stragglers.

After the discovery of gold, the whole face
of things was changed. A full flow of emigration
set in, carrying all sorts of people with it,
good and bad indifferently; and where the land
had been dead and barren for want of human
life, it now became burdened and oppressed by
excess. The virtues practised there were not of
the most primitive character; and it was felt that
if the " untutored heathen" were to be reclaimed
from their vices, it must be by a somewhat purer
agency than the hideous influence of these lawless
godless whites, only occupied in digging up
the earth for gold. It was resolved to erect
Columbia into a bishopric at once, that the
teaching of the Church might be made under
proper authority, and the Mother be seated in
her chair from the beginning. A lady, whose
wealth is only equalled by her muniflcence, and
who has already founded two other colonial
bishoprics, came forward with twenty-five thousand
pounds, which she laid down as the nucleus
of the episcopal establishment in Columbia.
That lady is Miss Burdett Coutts;
the new bishop, the youngest of the prelatic
body, is Dr. Hills, formerly rector of Great
Yarmouth, and in a singular manner well fitted
for his position—one of the muscular, Livingstonian
men given to doing, not to talking only,
and trusting as much to practice as to precept.
" He is a real man, he does not only soil his
episcopal knees by praying, but uses his hands
and works," said a friend of his, emphatically;
a graphic touch worth whole pages of elaborate
description. He had need be such a man, for he
has rough work before him; and, if he feared to
dirty his hands, the very purpose and aim of his
life there would be frustrated. The luxuries of
civilisation are not very plentiful about him at
home or abroad. His episcopal palace is a small
wooden hut, the outer door of which opens into
his sitting room; there is no hall or passage; so,
when people knock he answers the door himself,
and in this way dispenses with puce-coloured plush
and powder. Victoria— Vancouver's Island—
where this luxurious palace is to be found is,
says the bishop, "the most lovely and beautifully
situated place in the world. In the summer it
must be exquisite; there is every sort of scenery,
sublime mountains, placid sea, noble forest trees,
undulating park-like glades, interspersed with
venerable oaks, inland lakes and rivers abounding
with fish. The climate is thoroughly English,
a little milder."

Things are dearer there yet than in England;
servants and house-rent are high; meat is
extravagant, so is butter, so is all wearing apparel;
tea and sugar are cheap, and excisable articles
escape the well-known brand. A great trade
is to be done in fishing; and here Dr. Hills is
eminently qualified to speak, for he learnt all
about this subject Yarmouth:

"A famous trade might be done in this
country in herrings; they are plentiful beyond
measure. The present catchers are Indians,
who go out and scoop them in along shore with
nets and boats. If they were to go farther out
they would get larger ones. As it is, many they
catch there are as large as those at Yarmouth.
One gentleman has turned to curing them, and
he makes four hundred per cent. of his outlay.
There would be a vast market all down the coast
of the Pacific. Wood, for curing, is of course
in great plenty. There are several other kinds
of fish—sturgeon and salmon, for instance.
This latter, of the finest description, you can
have daily for a mere song—twopence or threepence
a pound. These are cured also. I will
welcome any fishermen who will come out with
introductions, and can promise them a lucrative
business."

On the mainland the scenery is exquisite.
The Fraser river—navigable for steamers for a
hundred miles, but with a tremendous barrier
of sand and surf at the mouth—is studded
with islands; so, indeed, is the sea "a very
archipelago of islands," offering lovely subjects
for the artist—who has never gone to sketch
them. There are mountains glacier clad, little
streams and rivers rising in all directions, and,
above all, mighty forests of pines, some four
hundred feet in height, and of corresponding
girth. The bishop is very graphic on the subject
of trees. It is only fair to let him speak of
them in his own words:

"Every wind brings down many trees. The
fall of a tree is like the report of a cannon.
There are huge trees in all stages of decay, some
standing erect without a leaf and without bark,
others on the ground. I have stepped upon
what seemed the firm trunk of a large tree, and
my foot sank in, and split open the soft body
almost as pulp. One trunk lay its long length
of some one hundred and fifty feet, with a diameter
of five, entirely rotten, but complete in
shape, and a row of young trees growing upon
the old one—not shoots, but new trees. The
whole soil for a considerable depth is vegetable
substance, very rich, thus continually renewed,
and sending forth with rapid growth a vigorous
supply of young trees. The forest is the settler's
enemy. He tries to get rid of it in every
way. In the autumn fires are lighted round
and inside the trees, and they will burn for
days, and then come down with a crash. The
fall of a tree is a fine sight, I may say impressive.
Two men will take a day for some of the
largest. They use their axes with great precision.
Every stroke tells, and they can lay the
tree in any direction they please. They cut
behind and before; the side on which the tree