they came within hearing.  They were nearly deafened with exclamations that their appearance called out, and by the questions that were showered on them.  At last some order was restored, and after pictures had been made of them just as they came aboard, dressed in sealskin tassock, sealskin and deerskin boots and moccasins, with which they had provided themselves at Northwest River, ragged remnants of trousers and shirts, and the barest apologies for hats, they were given an opportunity to make themselves comfortable and eat supper, and then the professor took them into the cabin to give an account of themselves.  It was many days before their haggard appearance, with sunken eyes and dark rings beneath them, and their extreme weakness disappeared.

The return trip of Young and Smith from Lake Waminikapo, who reached Rigolette Aug. 18th, was made in five days to Northwest River, and after resting two days, in two more to Rigolette.  Their trip was comparatively uneventful.  At the foot of Gull Island Lake they met Bryant and Kenaston, who with their party of Indians were proceeding very leisurely and apparently doing very little work themselves.  At their rate of progress it seemed to our party very doubtful if they ever reached the falls.  They had picked up, in the pool at the foot of the first falls, one of the cans of flour lost in the upset, some fifty or sixty miles up the river, with its contents all right, and strange to say not a dent in it, and returned it to Smith and Young when they met them.  That night, with the assistance of the officers and passengers of the mail steamer, which lay alongside of us, a jollification was held.  Our return race to Battle Harbor, the last concert of the Glee Club in Labrador waters, the exciting race over the gulf with the little Halifax trader, the tussle with the elements getting into Canso, the sensation of a return to civilization and hearty reception at Halifax, and greeting at Rockland, must remain for another letter.

* * * * *

Onboard the Julia A. Decker,
Rockland harbor, me.,
September 23, 1891.

The staunch little schooner has once more picked a safe path through the dangers of fog, rocks and passing vessels, and her party are safely landed at the home port, before quite two weeks of the college term and two weeks of making up had piled up against its members.

The crew that weighed anchor at Rigolette on the morning of September 2nd, when the wind came and the tide had turned, was a happy one, for from Professor to “cookee” we all felt that we were truly homeward bound, and that we had accomplished our undertaking without any cause for lasting regret.  The mail steamer, whose passengers had joined in the jollification of the night preceding, being independent of the wind, had started ahead of us.  Another race was on with the “Curlew,” this time a merely friendly