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. Giant kelp break loose from their moorings and go floating about, their yellow fronds and orange heads contrasting strangely with the intense green of the water. The Indians say these kelp are the queues of shipwrecked Chinamen. Many eagles build their nests in the trees, while myriads of seagulls skim the water.

The scenery of the Stickine river is equally grand. Three hundred glaciers drain their waters into this river.

The tourist meets the first tide water glacier in the Bay of Le Conte. The Stickine Indians called it Hutli, Thunder Bay. Here, they say, dwells Hutli, the Thunder Bird. To their imaginative mind the cracking of the ice and the noise of the falling icebergs, is the cry of Hutli, and the roar of the falling water the flapping of his huge wings.

In Lapland the guardian spirit of the mountains is known as Haltios.

Juneau is located at the foot of Mt. Juneau, which is more than three thousand feet high. It is snow-capped and delicious water comes pouring down the mountain sides. Juneau is a newly built town and is the largest on the coast. It has a population of thirty-five hundred. Just below the town is a village of Taku Indians. Back of the village are the grave houses. Here we find totem poles and Indian offerings to the spirits. Steamers bring to this wharf fruits and vegetables. Radishes, lettuce and onions, also rhubarb, look tempting in the gardens. Juneau is the home of many miners and prospectors. The chief mining interest in this vicinity is the Treadwell mines, located on Douglas island, just across Gastineau channel from Juneau. The ore runs from two dollars and twenty cents to four dollars per ton only, but the water power coming from the mountains makes the working of the mines cheap, so that the company is enabled to pay large dividends. Hundreds of sacks of gold, nearly free from rock, lay day and night on the wharves, waiting for the steamers to carry it away to the stamping mill. On the wharf at Treadwell lay twenty thousand dollars.

The mill spoken of is the largest in the world. It runs eight hundred and eighty stamps day and night. There is enough ore in sight to run the mill twenty-four hours a day for thirty years. The mountains are being literally blasted down and carted away. The Indians work in the mines, but they cannot compete with their Anglo Saxon brothers, they earning only about half as much. They will not trust the white man over night, hence are paid at the close of each day.

The Indians wear citizens’ clothes and carry watches. Many of them sport canes when walking about the streets. The women and girls do the family washing on the rocks in the mountain streams. One little black-eyed, brown-faced witch who said her name was Troke Lewis, was washing handkerchiefs on a big rock over which the water poured. She paused to talk to us, a cake of soap held high in one hand, while with the other she held her handkerchiefs down in the cold water on the rock.

Just around the cliff, back of Juneau, lies the beautiful Silver Bow caÑon.

There are plenty of fine fish in the bay. Salmon, trout and eels abound. The writer caught a trout weighing ten pounds and an eel weighing one pound.

Skagway is located on the Lynn canal at the foot of Mt. Dewey, which rises sheer fifty-five hundred feet above the sea. The climate is very mild, the thermometer never being known to register over six below zero. A veritable Ganymede sends down a vast supply of the most delicious water. Skagway is the coming city of Alaska. It will be to Alaska what Chicago is to the Middle Western States, what St. Paul and Minneapolis are to the Northwest and what Seattle is to the North Pacific coast. Streets are being laid out and other improvements are going on. Log cabins covered with tar paper are being replaced by more substantial buildings. People are coming here to stay and the representative inhabitants of this youthful town are men and women of refinement and culture from the Eastern and Middle States.

At Skagway all sorts of vegetables are growing in the gardens, lettuce, radishes, onions, potatoes, cabbage and tomatoes.

We spent the Fourth of July in this place. Congressman Warner invited us to join him and the senatorial party for the day. We went to the summit of the Selkirk mountains, to the head of the Yukon River on the White Pass and Yukon railway, after which the party was entertained in Skagway.

Observation cars were especially prepared for the party. These consisted of flat cars around which run a railing. The seats were reversable and ran lengthwise of the cars. Thus you might view the wall of granite along which you were passing or reverse the seat and behold the wonderful things to be seen in the pass below, where the march of Civilization has left her trail, cabins, mining camps, amidst snow and flowering mosses, tin cans, cracker boxes; and last but not least, horses and mules just as good as when they lay down to their last sleep in these wilds.

The run to the summit was made in two hours. Over the same route men and pack mules plod along three weeks. Only in places is there much vegetation on these granite mountains. Toward the summit blackberries are in bloom. They are perfect plants only two inches high, each plant sending out two or three branches loaded with bloom. Dwarf pines and tufts of grass grow in the crevices of the rocks and on the sides of the mountains, where a little soil has found lodgment.

The White Pass and Yukon railway, which was opened in February, now runs trains over the summit to Lake Bennett. Work is being pushed rapidly forward to the final destination, Ft. Selkirk, Northwest Territory. The distance from Skagway to the summit is sixteen miles. The road was blasted out of solid granite all the way and is a wonderful feat of engineering skill.

There are the usual curves and loops, but these are not sufficient to overcome the steep grade which rises two hundred feet to the mile. The road rises thirty-two hundred feet in the sixteen miles. At one place the train was run up into a ravine on a Y. The engine was uncoupled and coming in behind us pushed the coaches up to the summit.

The ice bridges all through the mountains are in good repair, the turbulent streams flowing under them with a dash and a roar of the Selkirk’s own.

All along the way to the summit is visible on the opposite side of the pass, the foot trail of the Indians. This narrow path lies along the sheer cliffs, dropping suddenly into deep ravines, then almost straight up the precipitous side of the mountain.

An enterprising company has built a wagon road to the summit, but a nervous person had best run his carriage on more level ground. This road stands on end in many places. It runs along level enough for a foot or two then takes a header into a ravine, presently it winds over a frail bridge which the spuming torrent below threatens every minute to wreck.

The wagon relegated the trail to oblivion. Then came the railroad and travel and commerce deserted the wagon road. Here they lie, the foot trail on one side, the wagon way on the other, and just above the road way, the railway. Three path ways: that of the untaught, unskilled Indian, that of the enterprising pioneer and that of the modern engineer, traverse this play ground of the Titans.

At the summit of the mountains Old Glory waves beside the British flag. Several British red-coated police are on duty at this point. They live in one-room frame houses covered with sail cloth.

The Yukon river rises at this point and flows four thousand miles into Behring Sea. Just now the head is a bank of snow from which we made snowballs.

The railroad will shortly be completed to Lake Bennett. From that point, with the exception of White Horse rapids, is a clear, unimpeded water route to Dawson City, in the heart of the Klondike.

From the Dawson City Midnight Sun we learn that this metropolis of the Northwest Territory is quite a busy place.

Hundreds are leaving for the Cape Nome country by every steamer, and many are making the trip in open boats.

A disastrous fire occurred on the hill back of Dawson on Wednesday last, when about forty cabins were destroyed by the blaze. In many cases the entire contents were destroyed, while some few were enabled to save their outfits. The fire caught from a small bonfire down near the Klondike, and in the first ravine up that stream. It ran up the hill to the trail, and then burning down towards the ferry, also destroyed half the homes on the lower side of the trail. The loss is estimated to reach about five thousand dollars, and fell on a class who could ill afford the loss, some being left absolutely destitute.

Scows and boats through from Lake Bennett began arriving in great numbers the last of the week, and are continuing to do so.

Trunks and bandboxes are taking the place of dunnage bags heretofore brought into the country. Every steamer is unloading cords of them.

Men who during the winter were spending hundreds of dollars over the gambling tables are now looking for a chance to work their passage out.

The suspicious actions of two strangers over on Gold Run has caused gold sacks to be guarded more carefully.

Two men while poling a boat up the river, were overturned near the mouth of the Klondike, losing a valuable kit of tools. The men were picked up by a boat pushed off from the river bank.

The grand opera house, built by Charles Meddows, is to be the finest building in Dawson. It is three stories high. The auditorium has a seating capacity of two thousand and a double row of boxes, forty-two in number.

From present indication Dawson will celebrate the Fourth of July as it was never before celebrated. Citizens of Canada are as eager supporters of this movement as are those of the States. There was a public mass meeting held in June at the A. C. warehouse, when there was about five hundred people present, and an executive committee appointed. Since then the different committees have been appointed and are meeting even better support from all quarters than expected.

The foreman of the Gold Hill mine saved from his washup a thousand dollars’ worth of handsome nuggets. Over these he kept a jealous eye continually until last Friday. Between seven and eight o’clock that evening he went to a neighboring cabin to bid good-by to Sam Miller, who was preparing to return to the States. During his temporary absence some sneak thief entered the cabin and cutting open a valise secured the sack of nuggets, but in his haste overlooked fifteen hundred dollars in dust lying near by.

We learn that a responsible firm is organizing a properly conducted express company, which will be prepared to carry parcels, gold dust, and attend to commissions. Thus a long felt want will be supplied in connection with Dawson’s dealing with outside points.

The foreman of the Eldorado is doing the finest piece of mining yet seen in the Klondike. A passer by would think that his large force of men was laying off a baseball ground, so level is the entire five hundred-foot claim being stripped for summer sluicing.

Cards are out announcing the marriage of two of Dawson’s most prominent young people.

A beautiful baby girl born over on Bonanza claim the other day is considered the most valuable nugget on the claim.

Patrick O’Flynn, a prisoner serving a six months’ sentence, escaped Thursday and has gone, nobody knows where. He, with other prisoners, was carrying water from the Yukon when he bolted among the tents along the river bank, mingled with the crowd and was lost sight of. One hundred dollars reward was promptly offered for information leading to his capture.

The Yukon has been steadily rising for the past week, and the high water mark is not yet reached. Water is backed up in the Klondike, overflowing the island.

This little city came near having a Johnstown flood last winter. An eye witness thus describes how the ice went out at Dawson. The river had been frozen all winter. When a few warm spring days came, the melting ice and snow in the mountains sent down immense volumes of water the strain of which the ice could not long withstand. All day the people stood helplessly about discussing the situation. A flood seemed inevitable; the greater part of the city was in danger of being swept away; until three o’clock in the afternoon the situation was unchanged, the ice gave no evidence of going.

Suddenly and almost simultaneously all along the city front the ice was seen to commence moving. A steamboat whistled and the cry went up, “The ice is moving,” and thousands of spectators rushed to the river bank just in time to see it go. The dancing masses of huge pieces of ice weighing tons upon tons, reared high in the air and tumbling over each other as they fell, presented a most beautiful spectacle. At ten o’clock it jammed and raised the water about three feet, doing no damage except smashing the wheel of the steamer Nellie Irving. In ten minutes the jam broke and the next morning the river, which the day before was frozen solid across, was entirely free except for blocks of floating ice from above.

Last year ice jammed and, backing the water up, flooded the town, doing much damage.