ALASKA.
July 9, 1892.
This morning we went ashore at Fort Wrangell, but found little there
of interest. A lot of miserable Indians and dogs and old houses, a
post-office and a court-house. An Indian dressed himself as a warrior
in paint and feathers, and executed a war-dance in a barn for the
amusement of the visitors. I saw him dancing along the walk into the
barn, but did not care to see the show. At noon we left the fort, and
since then have been passing through scenes of unsurpassed
magnificence. Tall mountains were on either side, those nearest
covered with spruce-trees, and the ranges back of them white with
snow. Occasionally there were open spaces, where snow or land-slides
had taken place, making good feeding grounds for wild animals, but we
saw only one, a large elk, who kept on feeding and did not notice our
ship. The sun set at a quarter past nine last evening. The steamer's
route is generally between islands and the main land, the water smooth
and everything comfortable; but yesterday we came out upon the broad
Pacific Ocean for an hour or two, and some of the passengers were
sea-sick, but none of our party were troubled in that way. All
appeared regularly at meals, which were excellent: well-cooked meats
and vegetables, and plenty of fruit. Just now, at 8 P.M., we are in a
bay some twenty miles in extent, surrounded by great mountains covered
with snow. The setting sun shining on these makes a picture of extreme
beauty and grandeur. All day long we have been on deck admiring the
beautiful sights, the weather being fine, numerous sea-gulls in view,
occasionally a school of porpoises, and now and then a whale. Every
day we pass numerous islands, large and small, all covered with
spruce-trees and having a very charming appearance.