OVERLAND

Founded 1868

VOL. LXVII

MAR /

LI

918

AUT

Alaska in far away Chicago or New York, even in San Francisco or Seattle, people -meaning people in general-are wont to think of a land perpetually mantled in snow and ice somewhere in the region of the North Pole, where gold may be had for the getting, but uninhabitable except by Eskimos and more or less zoological men designated miners. And a pity it is that a view. so erroneous should prevail, for as a matter of fact, Alaska is one of the most beautiful, most keenly alive, and

most interesting places in the world. The person who can find nothing beyond the glare of city lights and who cannot adapt himself to the discomforts necessarily to be found in frontier life has no business in Alaska; but the man or woman who loves the great big out-of-doors with its mystic silence, its splendid mountains and majestic trees, whose very soul quivers in exultation at the beholding of nature unaltered by the hand of convention, who loves life for its big opportunities and big rewards such a person cannot fail to delight in Alaska.

But here I've been saying Alaska when I mean to tell you only about Southeastern Alaska-or the Alexander Archipelago, or "The Panhandle," whichever one chooses to call it. For a theme so extensive as "Alaska" or "Travels in Alaska," could scarcely be creditably treated within the confines of a magazine article. So I propose to take my readers on a little excursion from Seattle to Skagway and back -such as the steamship companies offer in summer for sixty-six dollars, except that by paying the sixty-six dollars the sight-seer may see through his own eyes instead of the eyes of a scribbler.

Leaving dock at Seattle, the steamer churns its way out into the shimmer

ing, sparkling water of Puget Sound. First we are conscious only of the friends who wave and shout good-bye from the pier, then we see the rim of a city with its high buildings and residences spotted hills grow dimmer and dimmer until lost from view. Before we know it, we are crossing the Straits of Juan de Fuca, and the majestic silvery crested Olympic Mountains are towering at our left. A little while later we are dodging in and out among the beautiful little San Juan Islands. And toward the middle of the afternoon we go through the narrow "Plumper's Pass," winding picturesquely between lovely islands that mirror themselves in its depths. Toward evening we pass Burrard Inlet and Vancouver with its background of snow-crowned mountains.

For a day and a half now we steam between Vancouver Island and the mainland of British Columbia. It is a wonderful stretch of travel. On either side is an ever-changing panorama of precipitous mountains, conifer clad and very green save for the snows that lay on their tops. The line is broken constantly with hundreds of picturesque inlets. Adding to the effect of this grandeur are dozens of tiny islets that put one in mind of huge emeralds with the turbulent water lashing itself into gleaming spray about their rockbound edges.

At Queen Charlotte Sound the swells of the ocean begin to be felt, and from there until behind the barriers of the Queen Charlotte Islands the vessel pitches and rolls in a way that puts food at enmity with the stomach. This and the stretch across Dixon Entrance are the only portions of the "Inside Passage" where the ships ride on the open ocean. All the rest of the way is as smooth as Puget Sound itself.

At Prince Rupert we may stop for a few hours and take a look about the Pacific terminal of Canada's second transcontinental railroad. The name Prince Rupert is not familiar to all because it wasn't on the map yet when most of us went to school. From 1908 to 1914 that busy little town sprang