BY Mrs. JAMES EDWIN MORRIS Illustrated from Photographs Taken En Route by James Edwin Morris THE Abbey Press PUBLISHERS 114 FIFTH AVENUE LONDON NEW YORK MONTREAL Copyright, 1901, by THE Abbey Press Dedicated to Alaska’s Beautiful Daughter, Miss Edna McFarland Linked in my memory of those sea-girt shores where snow-crowned mountains tower like castles old; where wild cataracts hurl their waters down rugged cliffs to the sea; where sea gulls mingle their cries with the rushing torrents; where fros

If you ask what motive she who loved these scenes had in essaying to portray them with pen and camera, she would reply that like the Duke of Buckingham, when visiting the scene where Anna of Austria had whispered that she loved him, let fall a precious gem that another finding it, might be happy in that charméd spot where he himself had been....

Off to see the land of icebergs and glaciers; the land I have often visited in my imagination. It seems but yesterday that the first geography was put into my hands. O, that dear old geography, the silent companion of my childhood days. The first page to which I opened pictured an iceberg, with a polar bear walking right up the perpendicular side, and another bold fellow sitting on top as serenely as Patience on a monument. “What was an iceberg? What were the bears doing on the ice and what did

There is plenty of room in the great Northwest. For twenty-five years to come Horace Greeley’s advice “Go west,” will hold good. Charles Dickens once said that the typical American would hesitate to enter heaven unless assured that he could go farther west. “Go west.” Surely these are words to conjure with. “Go west,” thrills the blood of youth and stirs the blood of age. The tide of immigration is turning this way. No matter what your trade or profession, there is room for you here. Agriculture

“All aboard!” At ten o’clock we steamed out of the harbor of Seattle and headed toward Alaska, the land of icebergs, glaciers and gold fields. Seattle sat as serenely on her terraced slopes as Rome on her seven hills. The sun shone bright and clear on the snow-capped peaks of the Cascades. Mt. Tacoma stood out bold and clear against the sun-lit sky. We steamed at full speed down Admiralty Inlet. At noon we stop at Port Townsend, the port of entry for Puget sound. One sees at all these coast town

We visited the Indian village of Ketchikan. The Episcopalians have a mission at this place. The teacher is an able young woman. A young lady, a handsome half-breed Indian girl, came upon the wharf to meet someone who came on the boat. Her carriage, language and manner were those of a lady. We landed some freight at this point. The freight agent was a half-breed Indian, quite good looking and a gentleman. New Metlakahtla is a most attractive village on the Annette Islands. The Metlakahtlans are t

Wrangel narrows is one of the finest scenic passages along the coast of Alaska. The magnificent range of snow-covered mountain peaks, the green-clad slopes on the shore and the Stickine delta compose as noble a landscape as one will see anywhere in the world. The sunset and sunrise lights in the narrows and on the snowy, cloud-wreathed mountains are marvelous pictures of beauty, beyond the power of pen or brush to portray. At low tide broad bands of russet hued algae border the sea-washed shores

The United States Geological Survey has gathered a volume of information on the subject of the gold fields of Alaska. The object of the expedition was to discover the source from which the gold of the Yukon placer mines was derived. A belt of auriferous rocks, five hundred miles long and from fifty to one hundred wide, runs from the British Territory across the American line at Forty Mile Creek. It is the opinion of the Geological Survey that the gold deposits of Alaska will rival those of South

The sun shone bright and warm, but a cold wave swept over the glacier. It was the beautiful Muir glacier. We left the steamer in a little boat and were rowed to the shore, landing on the sandy beach. High on the sand lay an Indian canoe, a dug-out. Near by a party of Indians wrapped in their scarlet blankets squatted on the sand. They had come to meet the steamer and sell their toys, baskets and slippers. A little black eyed boy had a half dozen young seagulls, in a basket, great awkward squabs.

Sitka is beautifully located at the foot of the mountains and commands a fine view seaward. The streets are not regularly laid out. Everyone appears to have chosen the site that pleased him best, regardless of his neighbors. Many of the buildings are old. At every turn one is made aware of Russian architecture. Several blocks from the wharf and directly in the middle of the street stands the Russian orthodox church of St. Michaels. The interior is richly decorated. Many rich paintings adorn the

A friend of the writer who owns mines at Cook’s Inlet thus describes his voyage north along the coast to Unalaska: We were now aboard the Excelsior. About noon the next day we put out to sea and saw no more island passages such as we had seen while aboard the Queen. Our first stop was at Yakutat, an Indian village on the Yakutat Bay. This bay is only an indentation of the coast, curving inward for about twenty miles. The whole force of the Pacific sweeps into it. Landing is both difficult and da

At Skagway quite a number of miners came on board, bound for home. One hears from them many sad tales of the Klondike. One man aboard is dying of consumption and scurvy, contracted in the mining region. A purse is being made up to enable him to reach his home in Toronto, Canada. He hopes to live to see his wife and child. An impromptu entertainment in the salon netted one hundred and fifty dollars for the sick miner. Another tale not quite so pathetic is that of Mike McCarty, of San Francisco. H

Seattle is now full of people on their way to Alaska, principally tourists, as the miners are now all coming down to rest or visit with relatives and to make preparations to return to the Klondike for the winter. Now that the Yukon and White Pass railroad is completed over the mountains to Lake Bennett the trip thus far is made in about four hours which formerly required four weeks over a rough, rocky mountain trail. Freight rates are much cheaper than when the Indians carried the freight over a

We left Portland on the night train for San Francisco. I took my gull, the Captain we called him, into the sleeper with me. He was asleep when I placed his basket under my berth, but about midnight he awoke and squawked frightfully. I rang for the porter but before he arrived the Captain had awakened nearly every one in the car. Angry voices were heard inquiring what that “screeching, screaming thing,” was. An old gentleman thrust his red night capped head out of his berth next to mine and angri

The Pacific slope has a wonderful flora which has been but little studied. Here wonderful ferns and laurels grow the whole year round. With few exceptions all the plants are new and strange. One of the most beautiful trees on the coast is the madrona, graceful and stately, its red trunk contrasting oddly with its green foliage. The dandelion is here but puts on such airs and graces that unless you are quite familiar with him you would never take him for the common weed he is at home. He grows se

What temperament is to a man, that climate is to a country. The climate of California is one of the most delightful in the world. California possesses the wealth of two zones. The ocean current gives it a temperate climate and the mountain ranges intercepting and reflecting the sun’s rays give California a climate distinctly her own. Fine fruit farms surround San Francisco for fifty miles. Irrigation, combined with a genial climate, produces the delicious fruit for which California is justly fam

Leaving the San Joaquin valley and its vast wheat fields we take the stage at Berenda and head direct for the snow-capped Sierras. Gold mines now claim attention and we stop at Grub Gulch. “The diggins” here are not very rich and we journey on over the low foot hills to King’s Gulch, where a rich quartz lode is being profitably worked by electricity. The drowse of a July noontide is in the air. Rattlesnakes wriggle through the short, dry grass. The Indians say that for every man a rattlesnake ki

The descent lay through groves of pine and cedar, beds of beautiful flowers, grassy glades, mountain brooks, tiny lakes, springs of ice cold water, and acres and acres of azaleas. In the center of a green glade lay a big brown bowlder surrounded by flowers. Just under the side of this bowlder was a spring of ice cold water. Just as the sun was sliding down the western horizon beyond the snow-capped peaks we arrived again in Wawona valley, where the evening was spent in telling stories and relati

Leaving San Francisco, a sail of twenty-five miles brings us to the grimly fortified island of Alcatraz, the watch dog of the Golden Gate. Forty miles inland lies the beautiful Napa Valley. Farm houses and villages dot the landscape. Orchards, vineyards and fields of waving grain heighten the natural beauty of this Rasselas Valley, rich in groves of oak trees from which depend festoons of mistletoe, meadows and running brooks. At the head of this valley stands Mount St. Helena, once a center of

Walla Walla is so named from its abundant supply of water. Many little streams run over the surface and many more under ground. This valley is noted for the richness of its soil, which is decomposed lava, and its wonderful climate. This delightful climate is shorn of its harshness by the magical breath of the Chinook wind. The principal crop here is wheat. A Walla Walla ranchman never thinks of planting anything else. The soil is so easy of cultivation that all he needs to do is to plow the grou

Just as a Bede Bible and a “quart of seed wheat” saved the British Isles to Christianity; so “the Book” and another “quart of seed wheat” carried in by the Reverend Spalding, saved Oregon to the United States, notwithstanding the Russian Bear, the British Lion and the bull of Alexander the VI. in which he delivered over all North America to Spain. “Good old times those were when kings thrust their hands into the New World, as children do theirs into a grab bag at a fair, and drew out a river fou