I I I I THE COMPANION SERIES. Our Country; West 1900: PERRY MASON & COMPANY, BOSTON, MASS. V Copyright, 1897, BY PERRY MASON & COMPANY, BOSTON, MASS. icroh Library CONTENTS IN ALASKA. OUR ONE AMERICAN CASTLE LEIGH YOUNG 3 SITKA AND ITS INHABITANTS . . . EDWARD FIELD, U.S.A. 7 INDIAN CANOE-BUILDING L. NEVEN 12 AT A SALMON POOL . . . . . . . C. A. STEPHENS 17 THE LONELIEST PLACE IN THE UNITED STATES FREDERICK SCHWATKA 21 ALASKA ESKIMO HOUSES JOHN MURDOCH 26 REINDEER FOR ALASKA CHARLES ADAMS 31 ON THE YUKON J. E. CHAMBERLIN 37 VOLCANIA C. A. STEPHENS 40 THE HERMITS OF WESTERN ALASKA . . C. W. PURINGTON 45 SEAL ISLANDS OF ALASKA M. M. BALLOU 49 SEA-LIONS GRANVILLE B. PUTNAM 53 HUNTING THE SEA-OTTER HENRY W. ELLIOTT 57 AMONG THE ROCKIES. THE BIGHORN CANON . . . GEN. JAMES S. BRISBIN, U.S.A. 67 HUNTING ELK ON SKEES SHERWOOD DAVIS 73 VISITING THE YELLOWSTONE PARK GEORGE S.. ANDERSON, U.S.A. 78 IN THE YELLOWSTONE PARK C. A. STEPHENS 80 ROCKY MOUNTAIN BURROS J. H. LEWIS 86 CHINESE RAILWAY LABORERS .... ERNEST INGERSOLL 90 SOME ROCKY MOUNTAIN ANIMALS . . PROF. ARTHUR LAKES 96 WHERE RAILROADS GO . ... . . . . J. L. HARBOUR 102 DIGGING UP A FOSSIL MONSTER . . PROF. ARTHUR LAKES 106 A PETRIFIED BIG TREE PROF. ARTHUR LAKES 112 THE HOLY CROSS AND TWIN LAKES . . . . J. L. HARBOUR 117 SIGNAL STATION ON PIKE'S PEAK J. H. SMITH 121 IN THE SOUTHWEST. THE BIG TREES OF CALIFORNIA . THE LUMBERMEN OF THE SIERRAS A ROAD OF THE SIERRAS CALIFORNIA RAISIN-MAKING DEATH VALLEY THE QUEER SURFACE OF NEVADA PYRAMID LAKE THE GRAND CANON CAVE-DWELLERS OF ARIZONA A BUILDED LAKE THE OLDEST AMERICAN HOUSES NEW MEXICO .... ADOBE . . SARAH WINTER KELLOGG . M. V. MOORE 131 WILLIAM H. RIDEING 135 GRACE ELLERY CHANNING 139 . ELIAS LONGLEY 143 JACQUES w. REDWAY 149 . PHILIP VERRILL MIGHELS 153 . M. V. MOORE 157 . . J. G. OWENS 161 PRESTON H. UBERROTH, U.S.R.M. 167 . HELEN FRANCES BATES 173 HELEN HUNT JACKSON 178 . SARAH WINTER KELLOGG 183 180 ON THE PLAINS. THE PRAIRIE SCHOONER PRAIRIE SIGNS PIONEER LIFE IN DAKOTA . THE HATED COYOTE BOY-LIFE ON THE PRAIRIE . RANCH LIFE COWBOYS OF THE PLAINS . THE GREAT CATTLE-TRAILS . THE LANGUAGE OF CATTLE-BRANDS BREAKING A BRONCO . A CHASE FOR WILD HORSES ANCIENT FARMERS AND SPORTSMEN THE WATER CACTUS GOVERNMENT CAMELS . JAMES FULLERTON 195 HAMLIN GARLAND 197 THEODORA R. JENNESS 203 I. N. 'QUEST 209 HAMLIN GARLAND 212 HELEN HUNT JACKSON 217 J. T. TROWBRIDGE 222 . C. M. HARGER 228 P. W. HORN 233 HESTER WASHBURNE 236 . MAX OWEN 240 AURELIA H. MOHL 244 . P. C. BICKNELL 249 . A. I. PECK, U. S. A. 252 IN ALASKA. Our One American Castle. Away up in Alaska, the northwesternmost part of our country, lies the strange old tumble-down, sleepy, little moss- grown town of Sitka, where stands our one American castle. Crowning a rocky headland that rises precipitously from the water on three sides and descends with a steep slope to the town on the other, is the castle, with a small but somewhat formidable-looking battery at the foot of the terrace on the seaside. The castle is one hundred and forty feet long and seventy wide, and is built of heavy cedar logs. Copper bolts, piercing the walls, rivet it to the rocks. The Russian governors of the colony held residence in the castle, and traditions of the social splendor that reigned there still cling to the weather-beaten building. With the Alaskans all things date back to the transfer of Alaska to the United States. Here, in the days before this transfer, princes and barons ruled. Something like regal splendor prevailed in Baranof Castle, as the palace was called in honor of the first governor. Travellers in the early part of the present century give charming pictures of social life at Sitka. State dinners were given once a week, and a constant round of balls and festivities was kept up. Baroness Kupreanof crossed' Siberia on horseback to Bering Sea in 1835, in order to be with her husband at Sitka. There she made the castle a place of rendezvous for all classes of society, extending to each a charming and gracious hospitality. A big brass samovar, or tea-urn, was always boiling in the dining-room, and by day or night a glass of the choicest caravan tea was served to every visitor. Beautifully wrought 4 OUR ONE AMERICAN CASTLE. samovars were brought out from Russia by the leading families. Specimens of these curious old urns may still be found in the curio shops, though they are rare. The governors brought all their household goods from Russia, and in spite of the difficulties of transportation, sur- rounded themselves with many luxuries. The castle was richly furnished. The walls of the rooms were lined with mirrors and covered with Oriental hangings. On the waxed floors were buhl and ormolu chairs and couches, tables and cabinets. Such are the recollections of some who remember Sitka as it was before the transfer. In those days we called Alaska " Russian America." October 18, 1867, was a beautiful, bright day, and the landlocked bay presented a brilliant panorama, with three United States vessels the "Ossipee," the "Jamestown" and the " Resaca" lying at anchor and flying their colors in the harbor. Farther out to sea were anchored the Russian fleet, gay with bunting. From every pole and roof in the town fluttered the Muscovite colors, in an almost unbroken line, from the castle to the pier. At three o'clock in the afternoon the United States troops, the Russian soldiers and the state officials assembled on the castle terrace, at the foot of the tall flagstaff, from which floated the great Russian standard. The white inhabitants of the town gathered around the group, while a swarm of dusky aborigines formed the background. As the clock in the government building struck the half- hour, the signal was given to lower the Russian flag, and simultaneously the battery of the " Ossipee" boomed out the national salute to the descending colors. Then, as the American flag ran up the line, and the Stars and Stripes floated out on the breeze, a prolonged cheer that rang over the waters came from our three ships, while the Russian water battery on the wharf returned the national salute to the American eagle. After a few more formal cere- monies, the reign of America had begun. OUR ONE AMERICAN CASTLE. 5 In 1869 Mr. Seward and an official party visited Sitka, and were entertained in state at the castle, where General Jefferson C. Davis held command. The festivities made the last gala season the place has known. Secretary Seward carried away a large collection of Alaskan curiosities and souvenirs. By the etiquette of the country, the fur robes laid for him to sit on in the lodges of the chiefs were his forever after, and the interchange of gifts made his visit one long to be remembered among the natives. Mr. Seward took with him a dance cloak, covered with The Old Castle. Chinese coins, which the Russians had probably obtained in their trade with China, and sold to the Indians for furs. When the Chinese Embassy visited Mr. Seward afterward at his home, they gave him the names of the coins. Some of these dated back to the fifth century, and others to the first century of the Christian era. When the castle was turned over to the United States authorities as government property, it was magnificently furnished and in perfect condition ; but in the period after the 6 OUR ONE AMERICAN CASTLE. troops were withdrawn and before the civil government was established it was neglected, like everything else, and has been completely stripped, spoiled and defaced. Kvery portable thing has been carried off the beautifully wrought chandelier, the queer knobs and massive hinges of the doors, even the huge old porcelain stoves from Russia. The great lantern, and even the reflector that sent its beams over the sea, have all disappeared, and the place is little more than a ruin. The hall where the governor received and entertained the Indian chiefs is a rubbish heap. Of the quaintly carved railing that fenced off a little boudoir in the great drawing-room, nothing remains, and not a vestige is left of the grand billiard- room to show that it ever existed. The signal officer has rescued two rooms on the ground floor for his own use, and some inferior law courts are held in two of the bare upper rooms. The only other tenant of the castle is the ghost of a beau- tiful Russian princess, who is said to haunt the drawing-room, the northwest chamber, where she was murdered, and the governor's cabinet, where the swish of her trailing wedding gown " makes the bravest turn coward, and the blood of the listener run cold." So at least the superstitious of Sitka like to tell. At Kaster time the princess is supposed to wander from room to room, leaving a faint perfume of wild roses behind her as she passes. The superstitious tale gives the last touch of sentimental interest to the old, weather-beaten castle of the Russian governors. LEIGH YOUNGE. PUBLISHERS' NOTE. Since this article appeared in THE YOUTH'S COMPANION the old castle has been destroyed by fire. Sitka and Its Inhabitants. The scenery of the inland passage from Portland, Oregon, to Sitka is hardly surpassed by anything in Switzerland or the Tyrol. The mountains, it is true, are only four thousand feet high instead of fourteen thousand, but in place of the barren masses of the higher Alps, these are covered to their very summits with dense forests of rich dark- green firs very much like the famous old majestic Norway spruce. This inland passage to Alaska is made by a chain of islands, which begins with Vancouver and extends to Cape Ommaney, sixty miles south of Sitka. There are some breaks in the chain, where for two or three hours the steamer passes through open sea ; but for nine-tenths of the distance the water is as smooth as the Hudson River. Day after day the steamer glides through a grand canal, in many places barely a mile wide. The water looks black in the shadows of the almost perpendicular mountain walls, tipped with snow and glittering in the summer sun, while frequent cascades make slender ribbons of foam amid the rich masses of evergreen. As our steamer entered the mouth of Sitka harbor, which begins soon after Cape Ommaney is passed, the sharp back- fins of innumerable porpoises rose as if by enchantment on every side. "They always wait here for the steamer," said the captain, " and keep her company to the wharf." As the steamer made fast to the wharf, she was immedi- ately surrounded by canoes filled with Indian natives. We were at once struck with the total unlikeness of these people to the Indians of the United States. The Siwash, as the Sitka tribes are called in their own language, are a short, thick-set, heavily-built race, whose traits much more resemble the Eskimos than the North American Indians. Many of them had their faces blackened, which meant that they were in mourning for relatives. We learned 8 SITKA AND ITS INHABITANTS. that the village contained two sub-tribes, and that when a death occurred all persons belonging to that tribe went into mourning. We soon approached the Indian village. It is built on the edge of the water, like all the Alaska settlements ; the natives are all maritime tribes. The houses were square, substantial huts of logs, covered with thin boards and arranged with some regularity. If the first glimpse of the Indians was disappointing, the old Russian village of Sitka we found picturesque to a degree. General View of Sitka. For half a mile back from the shore the houses straggled in a rather graceful way, giving pretty curves to the one street, from which small alleys run in several directions. The level plain extends about a mile and a half farther back, to the foot of Verstovoi, a mountain about three thousand feet high, which, like all Alaskan mountains of moderate height, is densely wooded to the very top. The bit of ground on which Sitka stands is probably the only level spot on the island. Behind Verstovoi, peak rises upon peak, forming a grand terrace that ends in an SITKA AND ITS INHABITANTS. 9 immense table, almost level and of great height ; for there, in July, glittered a great glacier, piled up thousands of feet. In the centre of the village stands the cathedral of the Orthodox Greek Church, whose dome, in Russian fashion, was once bright green, but now is sere and yellow. The population of the white town of Sitka, at the period of my stay, was about three hundred and fifty. It was of every shade and race, from the blond Scandinavian to the nearly pure Aleut, with broad, flat face, little, glittering, beady eyes and coarse, straight hair. There was a handful of Jews the true pioneers of civilization who drove good bargains, and made a living with pluck and patience. The two villages, white and native, are separated by a high stockade, which is surmounted by a sentry-box, from which the Indian village can be overlooked. A gate in this stockade is opened at nine o'clock each morning and closed at three in the afternoon. Every day, as soon as the gate opens, a long procession of squaws and children, with a certain number of men, depending upon the season, file in. Nearly all the women have something to sell. They offer food, ornaments, bead work, wood-carvings, and baskets so closely woven as to hold water perfectly. After disposing of their wares, the squaws spend the remainder of the day much as their civilized sisters might, in shopping that is to say, they bargain for cheap calicoes, and sun themselves on the porches of the stores. Their lords and masters waddle, rather than stalk, about the village, showing as keen an interest in molasses as their wives do in bright calico. Molasses appears to be the thing most dear to the Si wash's heart. From it he makes one of the vilest and most intoxicating of drinks. Just before three o'clock a non-commissioned officer of the guard, with a party of soldiers, marches through the town, gathering in the Indians ; and the long procession, which has been steadily increasing during the day, files solemnly back through the big gate, which is then closed. IO SITKA AND ITS INHABITANTS. The government of the tribe was nominally in the hands of the hereditary chief, An-na-hootz, but the really influential men in the daily affairs of the Indian village appeared to be Sitka Jack, the politician, and Skin-ne-ah, the millionaire. Neither of these was a chief by descent, but they had gradually acquired the influence and assumed the rank. Skin-ne-ah was the Vanderbilt of the tribe ; he must have owned at least fifty blankets, which are a Siwash's chief wealth. As Sitka was an Indian reservation, there was absolutely no law or authority in the territory except the will of the military commander, who was also Indian agent. As the laws in regard to furnishing liquor to Indians are stringent, no molasses was allowed to be sold except upon a written permit ; for though the natives used it as an article of food, thjey would, if they could get enough, make liquor of it. In spite of their rum-making and drinking, the Siwashes are probably the most peaceable Indians on the continent. They sometimes commit petty thefts, but we never saw any disposition on their part to make serious trouble. This was fortunate ; for the position of a garrison of eighty men, separated by a stockade only from a village of certainly six hundred Indians, would be very critical if the Indians were hostile, or even of doubtful disposition. Practically, the Indians' only weapon is the old Hudson Bay smoothbore musket. The Indians were not even good shots with this poor weapon, and rarely fired at anything farther away than fifty yards. Though they manage to kill more deer in a season, probably, than are killed in any other part of the United States, they are chiefly indebted to their dogs for their success. The dogs are curious fellows, resemb- ling large coyotes, with coarse hair, erect ears and bushy tails. When the Indians want venison, they paddle over in their canoes to one of the islands around Sitka, all of which swarm with deer. Here they put their dogs ashore, and then draw off a very short distance from the land. SITKA AND ITS INHABITANTS. II The dogs find the deer, and drive them into the water at a point exactly opposite the place where the men are waiting ; and the Indians shoot them at short range in the water. The Indian River, which flows back of the village, is a favorite spawning-ground of the salmon ; and on their way up the stream great numbers of the fish are speared, or rather hooked, by the Indians. They use a long, light pole, with a short piece set on at an acute angle and projecting back like a big triangular barb. This is armed with an old razor or knife-blade. An Indian stealthily approaches one of the deep holes along the bank, and gently dips one end of his spear beneath the surface. Keeping as far back and as well concealed as possible, he stands motionless for an hour at a time. Suddenly, with a quick jerk, he raises a twenty-pound salmon struggling on the murderous blade. We could not learn much concerning the Indians' religious belief. They do not seem to worship idols, although they hold certain animals in great reverence. The raven is regarded as peculiarly sacred ; and this is not to be wondered at, for the Sitka raven seems the embodiment of wisdom and cunning. During the Russian Christmas holidays, which last two weeks, all the people belonging to the Greek Church go about masked, and there is a ball almost every night. Alaska has proved to be worth many times the seven million dollars which the United States government paid for it. Aside from the very valuable seal fisheries, the mineral wealth of the country promises to be prodigious ; the timber is superb in quality, and practically exhaustless ; and the salmon crowd its waters in countless numbers. EDWARD FIELD, U. S. Army. Indian Canoe-Building. While the inland waters of the northwest Pacific coast swarm with Indian canoes, a white man rarely sees an Indian building one of these graceful craft. For this fact there may be several reasons. First, as the canoes are made of cedar, and carefully protected from the weather when not in use, they are long- lived ; hence it is not necessary for the same individual often to provide himself with a new one. Then the Indian much dislikes to let a white man see his canoe in the process of construction ; this may be both from native shyness and a desire to keep secret the traditional modes of doing the work. It was, however, once my good fortune to come suddenly upon a very aged Indian working upon a half-finished canoe. Among these people the canoe-builders are old men ; probably because they become, from long experience, more skilful than the young men, and also because they are physically unfitted to engage in the more arduous labors of hunting and fishing. On returning from a short hunting tour on a sultry day in June, I came from a dense thicket into a small opening, and took the little, withered old Indian artisan completely by surprise. His shipyard contained, perhaps, two or three square rods of pretty level ground overgrown with moss. He was sitting astride of a cedar log, which was supported by two skids ten or twelve feet apart. The log, or canoe that was to be, was about fifteen feet long, and two and a half feet in diameter. The partially fashioned craft was bottom up, and the builder was chipping off the sides with a buckhorn adze. This primitive tool consisted of a curved piece of buckhorn, lashed by rawhide thongs to a wooden handle eighteen inches INDIAN CANOE-BUILDING. 13 long. The cutting edge of the adze was smooth and well- polished from use. It sank readily at each blow into the soft, corky wood. At intervals, in order to dislodge a tough chip or knot, the little carpenter used a buckhorn chisel and stone mallet. The older Indians have a great reverence for the primitive implements of their fathers, and they work for days together with them, when the same amount of labor could be done in a few hours with modern edge tools, purchasable at the settle- ment for a small sum. In contemplating this curious scene, I was brought face to face with the stone and bone age of prehistoric times. At first the old Indian did not seem disposed to be sociable, but I did not take offence, for I knew that few of the older men and women of his tribe are able to speak English. But no sooner did I fill his shrivelled hands with sandwiches from my capacious haversack, and address him in Chinook, than every wrinkle on his leathery face was a smile, and he readily answered all my questions. From his quite lucid account, it seems that when the red man wants to make a canoe he fells a cedar-tree, or finds a prostrate trunk of the requisite dimensions. He then cuts out a section of the desired length, peels off the bark and hollows out the log, leaving a smooth surface upon the sides and bottom from end to end. The log is next turned over, and the outside fashioned into the exquisite model so much admired by all those who have seen these beautiful specimens of Indian naval architecture. The log is hollowed by burning and chopping. After the fire has been started on the top of the log, it is so carefully watched and skilfully directed that when the burning is finished, the big piece of timber is neatly hollowed with marvellous symmetry of form from bow to stern ; and the whole concavity is left so evenly charred that when the surface is worked down to the sound timber by means of the buckhorn adze, little further alteration is necessary. 14 INDIAN CANOE-BUII/DING. When the log is turned over, with the hollow side down, a slow fire is again brought into requisition for shaping the exterior, and again the surface is neatly worked down till the sound timber appears. Of course the buckhorn implements cut pretty easily through the charred wood. Since the settlement of the country by whites, the Indians have felled trees for their canoes with axes ; but previous to that time all this was done by burning and by stone imple- ments, the fire being so directed as not to injure the portion from which the canoe was made. Hence, I may say that I An Indian Canoe. have seen many beautiful canoes, some capable of carrying a dozen persons, made from a standing tree, without being touched by a tool of steel or any other metal. The inside and outside having been finished, the next thing to be done is the " stretching," without which the crude dugout would be wholly unseaworthy. To do this, the canoe is set level on a firm skid foundation and filled with water. A fire is then kindled and stones, heated red-hot, are thrown into the canoe till .the water boils. By taking out and reheating the stones the water is kept boiling till the walls of the canoe, which are not more than an INDIAN CANOE-BUILDING. 15 inch thick, become as pliable as sole leather, and capable of being stretched a foot or more beyond their normal width. Nicely fitting sticks are now put in transversely along the gunwale, increasing in length from the ends to the middle. By means of these stretchers, a cedar log two feet and a half in diameter will make a canoe of three or four feet beam ; the width of the canoes varying, of course, according to length. When the sides have been brought to the required curvature, the water is emptied out and the elegant shell suffered to dry thoroughly but without cracking. By way of finishing touches, the canoe is smeared inside and out with fish-oil, and then painted in bright colors. It may not be generally known that the fine curves which distinguished the bows and sterns of the original speedy Baltimore clipper ships were suggested by the models of these Indian canoes. Such is the fact, however, and in later years the builders of ocean steamships have copied the same ex- quisite lines. One of the characteristics of these canoes is that their motion causes very little disturbance of the water, whether light or heavily laden, and whether slowly or swiftly propelled. Thus their shape is consummate art in shipbuilding. How did rude, untutored Indians discover it? Of course not all at once. For unknown ages these people were constructing canoes with slow increments of improvement from one generation to another until at last they worked up to a model which proved fast and yet best suited to their needs. As none of them could improve the model they adhere to it, and all their canoes are of that pattern. L. NEVEN. At a Salmon Pool. We had stopped at a cannery near the head of Tongas Narrows, to take on board two thousand boxes of salmon, and so had an opportunity to land and see the place where the fish are taken. A walk of half a mile through the ever- green forest brought us to the little river near the foot of a cascade fifteen or twenty feet in height. The stream foams down over rugged ledges of pale gray slate, overhung by enormous firs, while fallen tree-trunks cross and half-blockade it. At the foot of the rocks is a series of three or four picturesque pools of eddying water, about thirty feet in breadth and six or eight feet in depth. The pools were full of restless, circling salmon, all pressing up to the foot of the falls. The foremost ones, bent crescent shape, were constantly leaping upward, some gaining the water above at the first spring, some falling back into the throng beneath to repeat their effort. From the bay below thousands were pressing up into the pools, impelled by the instinct -which leads every salmon to return, after its ocean wanderings, to deposit its spawn in the river in which it was hatched. Such was the pressure of the throng in the pools that the top of the mass of fish was at intervals lifted nearly out of the water, so as to suggest the idea that one might run across the pool on their finny backs. Yet all were in constant motion. Through the limpid water their dark purple backs reflected the richest of tints, with here and there the white gleam of a fish capsized in the press. No one could witness such a scene without becoming intensely interested in it. One watched the frantic leaping of the beautiful fish with the same kind of feeling which he has in watching a boat-race as if he were trying to help the contestants by mental encouragement and muscular repression. 1 8 AT A SALMON POOI,. The more excitable spirits among us, men as well as women, shouted and screamed like school children. Crouching and bending over the rocky verge of the pools, they clapped their hands when one of the fish succeeded in making a good leap. It was a scene to carry long in one's memory : the white, dashing waters, the huge, dark-green overhang of the firs, the wild thronging of the salmon in the clear, cold pools, the dead and dying fish, floating helplessly out in the eddies. Flapping ravens croaked overhead and bronzed dragon-flies whirred above the water's surface. To all this spectacle of animated nature, annually repeated here through thousands of years, add the unusual element of a hundred tourists from the steamer rushing about the pools in the wildest excitement, hallooing, screaming, hastily rigging out rods, hooks and spears, and even cruelly firing into the poor fish with pocket-revolvers, and the reader may be able to picture to himself the scene presented on this August afternoon. The business of canning salmon is now rapidly pushing its way northward from the Columbia. At present there are about a score of canneries in southern Alaska. They are generally situated in some deep bay, or arm of the sea, surrounded by dark green mountains, or gray cliffs, capped with mist, and near the mouth of some river, or large brook. All these streams are the old-time haunts of the salmon, and here they are easily captured in nets and weirs. The canneries are rudely constructed, but commodious sheds, beneath which is placed all the apparatus for dressing, packing and testing. This includes steam-power machines for filling the cans, ovens for heating, a shop for making the cans from sheet tin, and a carpenter's shop. At the very picturesquely located cannery which we visited we found two or three Americans in charge of the property. About twenty Chinese were doing all the work, including tinsmithing, and testing the filled cans by heat, prior to AT A SALMON POOL. 19 sealing them. Indians are also employed, mainly to catch the fish and for chore- work. At some of the canneries the Indians are paid a stated price for catching, one cent a pound, or ten cents for each salmon caught. The salmon of these small rivers usually range, during the summer months, from four to ten pounds in weight. Almost every cannery either owns or hires a small tugboat, for a tender, to bring in the fish caught at different points. After the cans are filled with fish, they are put in ovens Salmon-Packing. and raised to a temperature of two hundred and fifty degrees Fahrenheit, then tapped to let out the steam, and afterward soldered air-tight. Five varieties of salmon ascend the rivers of Alaska, the largest of which not unfrequently attains a length of six feet and a weight of one hundred pounds. This giant is occasion- ally caught in the Columbia River, but its favorite haunts are the Yukon River and the rapid streams flowing into Cook's Inlet to the west of Mount St. EHas, where the Indians take it in great numbers. 20 AT A SALMON POOL. The most northerly river of the globe which salmon are known to ascend is the Colville, in northern Alaska, which flows into the Arctic Ocean, in latitude 71 north. Kotzebue Sound, with the five or six rivers flowing into it, is the most northern place where salmon are taken in considerable numbers. Only one variety, the little hump-backed salmon, reaches this latitude. Alaska is a true home of the salmon, and will undoubtedly be one of the great fishing-grounds of the world. Were these fisheries judiciously managed, no decrease in the enormous numbers of fish need be apprehended. More fish now attempt to ascend the rivers during the spawning season than their waters will contain. In the tumultuous rush to reach the spawning beds, far up the rivers, countless thousands of salmon are pushed on shore, or left stranded in pools and small ponds, as the water lowers during the summer months. Nature seems to have no pity for them. In heaps and rows, or scattered, one by one, they lie rotting along the river and creek banks, the shallows and gravel bars. This destruction is nature's method of repressing the too rapid multiplication of the fish. The few thousand Indians who inhabit these wild regions, and who largely subsist on salmon, occasion no perceptible reduction in their numbers. L,ike the spring tides recurs every season the impetuous rush of eager, reckless, struggling fish, surging far up every bay, river and brook, from Cape Mendocino to Cape Lisburne. To utilize this excess, to save this waste of good fish and distribute it as food to all quarters of the earth, is the business which the Alaska salmon canneries have undertaken. It is an enterprise well deserving of success. C. A. STEPHENS. The Loneliest Place in the United States. My party of five white men and some Yakutat Indians had landed, through the heavy surf of the great Pacific Ocean, in an open bight called Icy Bay on the Alaskan coast just off the snow-clad peak of Mount St. Elias, the highest mountain in North America. Here we left one man to look after our many supplies, for numerous bear tracks, most of them of the huge grizzly, showed us that we could not safely leave the supplies unguarded. Then we started toward the great mountain. It was our main object to make explorations in the range of which St. Elias is the culminating peak, where it was known that no white men had ever been before, and where all observations of the range had been from ships coasting by. For some eight to ten miles the land was very flat, but for the most part covered with a dense growth of spruce and firs, and cut up by many small streams of the coldest ice-water from the great mountain's side and its glaciers. This course brought us to a high ridge, some four hundred to five hundred feet from foot to crest, that looked not unlike the parapet of a fortification for giants, and much like the unbroken front of a rolling bluff facing the valley of a river. It was covered with earth, stones, and a growth of underbrush that made the casual observer suppose he was looking at an ordinary ridge of land. But here and there a shining space of black, like a huge facet of polished jet or black glass, coupled with the prox- imity to the huge mountain covered with ice, plainly told the experienced observer that he was facing the front of a colossal glacier, or river of ice, and this rubbish was only the dirt, stones and soil it was shoving before it as it crept slowly toward the sea, or sought a lower level. 22 THE IvONElylEST PIPAGE IN THE UNITED STATES. Once at the top of this ridge or crest that looked so much like an ordinary rocky ridge in the country, its true character is more plainly revealed, and one can easily see great banks of black ice where, from the front, only small patches peeped through, here and there. But we had to walk some six or seven miles before we really saw such ice as we are accustomed to see in our own latitude ; and even then it was always of a bluish or blackish tinge. The first day's travel of eight to ten miles across the Mount St. Elias. glacier, which I named the Agassiz Glacier, brought us in sight of a small island in this sea of ice, which we could plainly see was well wooded and beautifully grassed in rolling slopes, a most welcome relief from the long, dreary stretches of dirty ice in every other direction. But a river and lake were between us and the beautiful island, and although the river was not hard to cross, so far as THE LONELIEST PLACE IN THE UNITED STATES. 23 any difficulties the stream itself presented were concerned, yet here the glacier showed perpendicular walls of ice so high that nothing less than a bird could have descended with safety. Next day we reached the island after much difficulty, and encamped there two days. Thus far, as my Indians told me, one or two of the most daring hunters of their tribe had come, looking for mountain goats, the tracks of which we saw, but beyond it none of them had ever penetrated. They believed there was solid ice to the very top of the huge peak of Mount St. Elias, toward which we were then travelling, except where, in a few places, we could see great walls of perpendicular rock breaking through the covering of white snow and blue ice. We advanced toward the base of Mount St. Elias, not expecting to see anything but ice and snow, or the worse bare rock, on which we were to sleep and camp until we returned to this island. This day's march covered ten or twelve miles to the northward over two distinct glaciers. To one of these I gave the name of Guyot, and to the other I gave the name of Tyndall. Before the day's journey was over, however, we were surprised to see what appeared to be a great green spot just at the base of the mountain, which turned out to be another island of emerald hue in the white sea of ice. It was probably half a square mile to a square mile in extent, and well enough covered with grass to make a delightful camping ground, while brush was to be had anywhere with which to make a fine camp-fire, such as we soon had blazing before us. Beautiful rills and rivulets flowed through the greensward on which we spread our blankets ; and to us, in our tired condi- tion, it seemed as soft as any bed prepared by human hands. Our Indians renewed their statements that this spot was unknown to any of their tribe and had no place in the traditions of their race ; and this had been their country always, as they firmly believed. In all my wanderings over the West or in Alaska I could never say, however desolate the place might be at the time of 24 THE LONELIEST PLACE IN THE UNITED STATES. my visit, that savage footsteps might not have been there before mine, until I stood on this little green island at the very base of solemn St. Klias, towering above us into the very skies. There were a few tracks of the mountain goat, but none of these animals were seen while we were here. A huge grizzly was seen by a member of the party, but as our most formidable weapon was a penknife, we rather avoided than solicited a battle with him. But the queerest life was seen in the ptarmigans, or Arctic grouse, which we encountered at different points. They had little chicks, about three to four weeks old, which had not yet got their wing feathers sufficiently developed to fly well, and of course had to escape by hiding in the grass and brush. They were tame, both young and old, for they had never seen a human being before. The little ones made so few efforts to get away that we could pick up some of them with our hands, while the old ones pecked at our feet and flew angrily against us to drive us away. One of my men killed two or three with a stick. I bade him stop, as we had enough for a meal, and it was a very tough meal at that. Green as the plants and grasses seemed to be, probably they would not have appeared so bright but for the contrast with the desert of ice. They must have been very hardy indeed, for I hardly think a week passes here without a severe frost, even in the warmest part of the summer. The first night we spent here, July 25th, it froze so hard that when a pint tin cup three-fourths full of water was inverted, the ice on the surface held the contents firmly in the cup. The second night was not many degrees warmer. On both nights the earth was covered with a heavy hoar frost, seemingly severe enough to kill every known plant. Lonely as this spot was, it was not without sounds to greet the ears of its few inhabitants ; the rush of mighty avalanches down the sides of St. Klias. What thunders they created ! THE I,ONEUEST PI