348 JOURNAL AND LETTERS OF DAVID DOUGLAS. brought me a parcel and two letters ; the latter I eagerly grasped, and, hoping one was from Mr. Sabine, tore it open, when I found that it was in the writing of Mr. Goode ; the other was from my friend, Mr. William Booth. A note from Mr. McLoughlin, at Fort Vancouver, di- minished my fears lest there should be no more letters for me, by stating that feeling unwilling to confide to the In- dian such communications as appeared to come from the Horticultural Society, he had kept them until his own people should return. Never in my life did I feel in such a state of mind. An uneasy, melancholy, and yet pleasing sensation stole over me, accompanied with a passionate longing for the rest of my letters ; for though I do enjoy, in a measure, the lux- ury of hearing from home, yet there is no intelligence yet from my near relations and friends. It is singular, that seldom as the post goes and arrives in this uninhabited and remote land, I should still have heard from England within five hours of sending off my letters to that country. Till two hours after midnight I sat poring over these let- ters as if repeated reading could extract an additional or a different sense from them ; and when I did lie down, little as I had slept lately, I never closed my weary eyes. The next day found me considerably indisposed, and the intense heat confining me to the tent, I employed myself with re- pairing my shoes and shifting the papers of my plants. Up to Wednesday, the 14th, I remained here, chiefly employed in making short trips along the banks of the river, which was rendered so rough by a stormy westerly wind, that no canoe could go upon it, even to fish. Thus, no salmon having been caught for three or four days, I had nothing but a little boiled horse flesh to eat, and was glad to eat of this scanty fare with a roasted Arctomys 1 , or 1 A. trachyurus.
