The New Eldorado. A Summer Journey to Alaska

At last we prepare to turn our backs upon the home of the glaciers and the locality of the most remarkable gold deposits of the Northwest, surfeited with wonders, and actually longing for the sight of something intensely common, satisfied that the tourist who makes the voyage from Tacoma to Glacier Bay through the inland sea has the opportunity of beholding some of the grandest scenery and natural phenomena on the globe.

CHAPTER XXI

Sailing Southward. – Sitka, Capital of Alaska. – Transfer of the Territory from Russia to America. – Site of the City. – The Old Castle. – Russian habits. – A Haunted Chamber. – Russian Elegance and Hospitality. – The Old Greek Church. – Rainfall at Sitka. – The Japanese Current. – Abundance of Food. – Plenty of Vegetables. – A Fine Harbor.

From Glacier Bay our serpentine course lies southward through the countless sounds, gulfs, and islands of various shapes and sizes to Sitka, the New Archangel of the Russians, Sitka being the aboriginal name of the bay on which the town is situated. This is the most northerly commercial port on the Pacific coast, and lies at the base of Mount Vestova on the west side of Baranoff Island. The island is eighty-five miles long by twenty broad, situated thirteen hundred miles north of San Francisco.

On the 18th of October, in the year 1867, three United States men-of-war lay in the harbor, namely, the Ossipee, the Jamestown, and the Resaca. It was a memorable occasion, for on that day the Muscovite flag was formally hauled down and the Stars and Stripes were run up on the flagstaff of the castle amid a salvo of guns from the ships of both nations, thus completing the official transfer of the great Territory of Alaska from Russian to American possession. Up to this time the government of the country had been virtually under the control of the rich fur company chartered by the Tzar. Any policy at variance with its purposes was treason; immigration, except for its employees, was rigorously discouraged; the imperial governor was actually salaried by this great monopoly, while his public acts were subject to its approval or otherwise. With the date above given this condition of affairs ceased and a new régime began. Though no radical change immediately took place, still the atmosphere of our Union gradually permeated these regions, our flag freely floated everywhere, and our few officials assumed their responsibilities, administering the laws of the Republic mercifully as regarded the natives, but still with that degree of firmness which is imperative in dealing with a half-civilized race.

One cannot but conjecture what must have been the secret thoughts of the thousands of aborigines on this occasion, as they witnessed the ceremony of transferring Alaska from their former to their new masters. It was an event of immense interest, of most vital import to them, but yet one in which they were entirely ignored. They knew the significance of that change of flags, of that roar of artillery, emphasized by other naval and military movements, but they had no voice whatever in the agreement by which they were virtually bought and sold like so many head of cattle, and their native land bartered for gold. We leave the reader to moralize over this aspect of the matter, a fruitful theme for the political economist. With this change of government came a new people; the majority of the Russians promptly left the country, and their places were taken by Americans.

Sitka, the capital of the Territory, is sheltered by a snow-crowned mountain range on one side, and protected from the broad expanse of the Pacific on the other by a group of many thickly wooded islands. The waters of the harbor are as clear as a mountain stream, so that, as in sailing over the Bahama Banks, one can see the bottom many fathoms down with perfect distinctness, where the myriad curiosities of submarine life attract the eye by their novel and varied display. Among other tropical growth, sponges, coral branches, and long rope-like algæ are seen, planted here doubtless by the equatorial current which so constantly laves these shores. The town lies clustered near the shore, forming a pleasing picture as one approaches from the sea. The most prominent feature is the castle, not a battlemented, ivy-covered, mediæval structure, but a severely plain, weather-beaten, moss-grown, dilapidated affair, which crowns a rocky elevation of the town. It is a hundred and forty feet long by seventy deep, constructed of huge cedar logs which are securely riveted to the rock by numerous clamps and bolts. This was for many years the grand residence of the Russian governors, – after the capital was removed from St. Paul, on the island of Kodiak, – several of whom were of the Muscovite nobility and brought hither their wives and daughters to live with them in this isolated spot. One can hardly conceive of a greater social contrast than naturally existed between St. Petersburg and this half savage hamlet of Baranoff Island. For delicate and refined ladies, such a change from court life must have been little less of a hardship than actual banishment to dreaded Siberia.

It is not surprising that resort was had to rather desperate means whereby to beguile the weary hours. Many fell victims to gambling and strong drink. The Russians, under nearly any circumstances, fail to be good examples of temperance, and here cognac and vodhka flowed free as water. To some of their official feasts and celebrations the native chiefs were invited, and terribly demoralized by the potency of the viands to which they were totally unaccustomed. Nor can it be wondered at that, being occasionally supplied with this fire-water, the natives now and again broke out in open revolt, which ended more or less seriously both to the Russians and themselves. It will be remembered that once during the early times the natives rose in a body and massacred or drove every foreigner off the island, an act of savage patriotism which cost them dearly.

Every “castle” must have at least one haunted chamber, and we are told that this of Sitka was no exception to the general rule. The story concerning the same is variously told by different persons, but we will give only the version we heard. It seems that half a century and more since, the Russian governor’s family included a beautiful and accomplished daughter named Eruzoff, who was, at the time the event occurred which we are about to relate, but twenty years of age. There were on her father’s official staff two young noblemen of St. Petersburg, Nicholas and Michael Burdoff, about twenty-five years of age respectively. They were cousins, and had been ardent and intimate friends from childhood. Both of the cousins fell deeply in love with the governor’s daughter, who, in her delicacy, showed no preference between them. The young men grew desperate in their feelings. Never before had they disagreed about the simplest matter; it was their delight to yield to each other; but now their love for the beautiful Eruzoff made them open rivals. One day they went into the neighboring forest together, as they said, to hunt, and were absent for two days. On the evening of the second day Michael returned unaccompanied by his cousin, whom he said he had lost in the forest. He retired at once to his own room in the castle, where he was found dead in bed on the following morning, without a wound or any sign to explain the cause, though the post surgeon pronounced it to be a case of heart disease. A few days afterwards, by means of his favorite dog, the body of Nicholas was discovered in the forest with a bullet through his brain. The actual truth regarding the death of the cousins cannot be known on earth, but the chamber where Michael Burdoff breathed his last is said to be often disturbed by a ghostly visitor at midnight. Eruzoff was forced by her father to marry an official of his choice, though she was broken-hearted at the loss of Michael Burdoff, who proved to have been the one whom she loved best. She died in her bridal year.

Interesting stories are told of the grand hospitality – characteristic of the Russians – which was so liberally dispensed within this castle, in entertaining celebrated voyagers of various countries, and especially those of the United States. It has always been the policy of the Tzars to cultivate kindly feelings with our government, and Russia is still our constant friend. The upper part of the old castle was arranged for theatrical representations, while in the other apartments the nights were rendered merry with cards, dancing, and music. Rich furniture, valuable paintings, and costly plate had been brought all the way from Russia to equip this grand household among a savage race. The toilets of the ladies were perhaps a twelvemonth behind those of St. Petersburg, but their diamonds and laces were never out of fashion. Elegant chandeliers were left by these former masters of the castle, which show what the rest of the furniture must have been to have harmonized with such gorgeous ornaments. The visitor is shown the apartment occupied by the venerable Lady Franklin at eighty years of age, who came hither in search for her lost husband, the Arctic explorer.

The quaint old Greek Church with the sharp peak of Vestova as a background is a prominent and interesting edifice. Its emerald-green dome and Byzantine spire, after the home fashion of the Russians, together with its elaborately embellished interior and its ancient chime of bells, strongly individualize the structure. Some pictures of more than ordinary merit are to be seen within its walls. One representing the Madonna and Child is pronounced to be very valuable. It is kept in perfect condition by the government of St. Petersburg, which is the sole owner of all the churches of the empire, at home and abroad. The Tzar expends more money for church and missionary purposes in Alaska to-day than all the Christian sects of our country combined. For the three churches in Sitka, Kodiak, and Unalaska the sum of fifty thousand dollars annually is set aside and appropriated. Nevertheless, we believe the Training School at Sitka exercises a much higher civilizing influence, where the simplest Christian principles are taught, combined with common school studies, and where instruction is given in the daily industries of life. All concede that education and general intelligence are the mainsprings of our system of government, and that the perpetuity of its institutions depends thereon. In view of these indisputable facts let our rulers at Washington bestow liberally from out the plethoric national treasury for educational purposes in Alaska.

Most of the houses of Sitka are heavy log dwellings, some of which are clapboarded outside and smoothly finished within. In the winter season about a thousand Indians live here, the white population being composed of the usual government officials and agents, with a few storekeepers engaged in the fur traffic and general trade with the aborigines. Four or five hundred miners and prospectors gather here also in the winter, when it becomes too cold to prosecute their calling far inland, where the thermometer often falls to 20° below zero. Even this occasional extreme could be easily endured, and the work be little retarded, were suitable quarters provided. In midwinter daylight continues at Sitka for only six hours in the twenty-four, though by the first of June there is virtually no night at all; the stars take a vacation, while the evening and the morning twilight merge into day.

The author had thought, heretofore, that the rainfall at Bergen, on the coast of Norway, exceeded that of any other spot he had visited, but here at Sitka “the rain, it raineth every day.” We have seen it rain harder in the tropics, but not often. The brief downpour, however, is so quickly followed by a flood of delicious sunshine that the contrast is a charming revelation. Still another effect is observable that, as rainy as it is, at certain seasons the atmosphere is still peculiarly dry. The writer was told that clothes would quickly dry under a shed during the heaviest rains. The fair weather is most likely to occur during the excursion season, so that the stranger is not apt to meet much annoyance in this respect while at the capital. The annual rainfall is recorded as being ninety inches upon this island, a degree of humidity which is attributed to the heated waters of the equatorial regions, which warm the whole coast-line of southern Alaska, insuring the mild winters it enjoys.

Scientists tell us that the effect of this warm current is equivalent to twenty degrees of latitude, that is to say, the same products which are found in latitude 40° north on the Atlantic coast thrive in this region at 60° north, which is a little higher than the latitude of Sitka. This beneficent stream, arising off the coast of southern California, crosses the Pacific south of the Sandwich Islands, and on the coast of Asia turns northward in a grand sweep, striking the shores of America, and returning finally to its starting-point. “It is this,” says H. H. Bancroft, in his “History of the Pacific States,” “that clothes temperate isles in tropical verdure, makes the silkworm flourish far north of its rightful home, and sends joy to the heart of the hyperborean, even to him upon the Strait of Behring, and almost to the Arctic Sea.”

The abundant moisture causes all vegetation to grow most luxuriantly. “The enemies of this region, some of whom,” said an official to us, “have been paid for sinister purposes to write it down, declare that it cannot be made to support a population, as vegetables will not grow here, but vegetables have been successfully grown all about us for more than fifty years.” There are a plenty of domestic cattle at Sitka, where we partook of as sweet and rich milk as can be produced on our choice dairy farms at the East. The southern portions of the Territory, both the islands and the mainland, are better adapted to support a civilized white population than are the larger portions of Norway and Sweden. It may be doubted if there is anything finer in color than the June greenery of Sitka. Our first day at this unique capital had been varied by alternate rain and sunshine, but the closing hours of the day were clear and beautiful, emphasized by such a grand and brilliant sunset as is rarely excelled, the afterglow and mellow twilight lasting until nearly midnight, causing the turban of snow upon the head of Mount Edgecombe to look like Etruscan gold.

John G. Brady, United States commissioner at Sitka, writes from there as follows: “Though Alaska is no agricultural country, yet there is plenty of land for growing vegetables for a vast population which can be easily cleared and cultivated. The food of this coast is assured unless the Pacific current changes and rain ceases. Perhaps there is not another spot on the globe where the same number of people do so little manual labor and are so well fed as in Sitka.” The capacity of the island to produce a large variety of garden vegetables, and of good quality, is abundantly demonstrated by a resident who gains a successful livelihood through the use of these products grown on his own land.

The bay is very lovely and naturally recalls that of Naples, with its neighboring Vestova and its beautiful islands. Though Mount Edgecombe with its great truncated cone, situated fifteen miles away upon Kruzoff Island, is not now in active condition, a century ago, more or less, it poured forth lava, fire, and smoke enough to rival the Italian volcano which buried Pompeii in its fatal débris nearly two thousand years ago. We were told that smoke and sulphurous vapor occasionally issue from the old crater of Edgecombe, but saw no distinct evidence of the fact. As we looked at the sleeping giant we wondered if it will one day awake in its Plutonic power. The bay is said to contain over one hundred islands, which are mostly covered with a noble growth of trees, rendered picturesque and lovely by green sloping banks and shores fringed with golden-russet sea-weed, bearing long, banana-like leaves. Many of these islands are occupied, some by whites, some by Indians. Japan Island, so-called, is the largest in the bay, and is situated just opposite the town. It was once improved by the Russians as an observatory, and now contains some fine gardens cultivated both by whites and natives, from whence the citizens obtain their supply of fresh vegetables. Baranoff Island itself is mountainous and thickly wooded, though there are large arable spots distributed here and there near to Sitka, dotted with wild flowers in white and gold, – Flora’s favorite colors in this latitude. Never, save in equatorial regions, has the author seen vegetation more luxuriant than it is in its native condition in these islands of southern Alaska.

CHAPTER XXII

Contrast between American and Russian Sitka. – A Practical Missionary. – The Sitka Industrial School. – Gold Mines on the Island. – Environs of the Town. – Future Prosperity of the Country. – Hot Springs. – Native Religious Ideas. – A Natural Taste for Music. – A Native Brass Band. – Final View of the Capital.

The Sitka of to-day contains about two thousand inhabitants, but is a very different place from that which the Russians made of it. The subjects of the Tzar carried on shipbuilding, manufactured wooden and iron ware, erected an iron furnace and smelted native ore, made steel knives and agricultural tools, axes, hatches, and carpenters’ tools generally. They established a bell foundry here at which many bells and chimes were cast, and shipped the products all along the Pacific coast, especially to Mexico. The Greek Church was kept up to the highest standard as regarded the national forms, and employed nearly a score of priests, which, together with some forty or fifty civil officers attached to the governor’s household staff, made a considerable community of white citizens, which was a constant scene of business activity. The capital has, in some respects at least, been greatly improved since it came into our possession, but it bears unmistakable evidences of antiquity. It has been made neat and clean, which was certainly not a characteristic under its former management, the streets have been regularly laid out, and good sidewalks have taken the place of muddy pathways, while some well-constructed roads leading through the neighborhood have been perfected. Though there is not seemingly so much of local business going on as there used to be, still it is a far more wholesome and pleasant place to live in than it was in the days of Muscovite possession. In Mrs. E. S. Willard’s published letters from Alaska we learn how an officer of our navy, namely, Captain Henry Glass of the United States steamer Jamestown, in 1881, proved to be the right sort of missionary to send on special duty to Sitka.

“His first move,” says this lady, “was to abolish hoochinoo. He made it a crime to sell, buy, or drink it, or any intoxicating drinks. He prevailed upon the traders to sell no molasses to the Indians in quantities, so that they could not make this drink. He issued orders in regard to clearing up the native ranches, which were filthy in the extreme, and had been the scene of nightly horrors of almost every description. He appointed a police force from the Indians themselves, dressed them in navy cloth with ‘Jamestown’ in gilt letters on their caps, and a silver star on their breasts. He made education compulsory. The houses were all numbered and the children of each house, each child being given a little round tin plate on which was marked his number and the number of his house. These plates were worn on a string about the neck. As the children arrived in school they were registered. Whoever failed to send their children were fined one blanket. As soon as they discovered that the captain was in earnest they submitted, and I believe no blanket was forfeited after the first week. The ranches have been cleaned, whitewashed, and drained, and all is peaceful and quiet where a few months ago it was a place of strife.”

The Sitka Industrial School – or as it is better known here, the Jackson Institution – is the most interesting feature of the town, because one cannot fail to realize how much good it is accomplishing in the way of practical civilization and real education among the natives. At this writing there are nearly one hundred boys, and about sixty girls and young women, who are under the parental care of the Institution. The teaching force consists of a dozen earnest workers, mostly ladies from the Eastern States. Besides the ordinary English branches taught in the school, the girls are trained to cook, wash, iron, sew, knit, and to make their own clothes. The boys are taught carpentry, house-building, cabinet-making, blacksmithing, boat-building, shoemaking, and other industries. The work of the school is so arranged that each boy and girl attends school half a day, and works half a day. The results thus brought about are admirable. The “Mission,” as the cluster of buildings forming the school, the hospital, the residence for teachers, cottages, and workshops is called, is situated beside the road leading to Indian River, overlooking the bay, the islands, and the sea, with grand mountain views on three sides. Fifteen different tribes are represented in this Sitka Industrial School. English-speaking young natives who have been trained here readily obtain good wages at the mines, in the fish-canneries, and wherever they apply for employment among the white residents of the Territory, while their influence with their tribes is very great. That the Alaskans are teachable and capable of attaining a higher and better plane of life has been abundantly proven by the successful mission of this school during the few years of its existence.

There is a small monthly newspaper published at Sitka in the interest of the Training School called “The North Star.” It is inexpensively produced, and is calculated to disseminate information in behalf of the excellent mission, as well as to add interest to its local affairs. The type-setting and all the work on this little paper is done by native boys. In his last published report Dr. Sheldon Jackson says in relation to the Alaskan natives: “Christianize them, give them a fair school education and the means of earning a living, and they are safe; but without this the race is doomed. We believe in the gospel of habitual industry for the adults, and of industrial training for the children. By these means they can be reclaimed from improvident habits, and transformed into ambitious and self-helpful citizens.”

The Industrial Training School at Sitka was established as a day school by the Presbyterian Board of Home Missions in 1880, with Miss Olinda A. Austin as teacher. The following fall circumstances led to the opening of a boarding department. Since then the institution has grown until there are connected with it two large buildings (one for boys and the other for girls), an industrial building sheltering the carpenter and boot and shoe shops, the printing-office and boat house, a small blacksmith shop, a steam laundry, a bakery, a hospital, and six small model cottages. Every building has been constructed by the pupils themselves under the direction of the one carpenter, who acted as their instructor. Even the domestic furniture, such as beds, chairs, bureaus, and the like, is the handiwork of these native boys. We can testify from personal observation that all is wonderfully well done, and of excellent patterns.

There is a valuable gold mine situated six or eight miles southeast of Sitka, eight hundred feet above the sea level and about a mile from deep water, on Silver Bay, where the largest ships may lie beside the shore, the wharfage having been prepared by Nature’s own hand. The quartz rock is here represented to be of excellent quality, showing thirty dollars to the average ton, and there is never-failing water near at hand sufficient for running a hundred stamp-mill. Gold has been mined at Silver Bay in a primitive way for several years. Numerous other mines have been located and opened on Baranoff Island which give great promise, but this just mentioned has accomplished thus far the best results. We took notes of eleven mines upon which much work had been done, shafts sunken, and tunnels run. “The island is besprinkled with these gold-quartz veins,” said an intelligent citizen to us. “Prospectors and miners have been attracted elsewhere in the Territory by still more promising gold deposits. This, together with the want of capital, is the reason the mines have not been opened and worked on an extensive scale. This will follow, however, in due time, for miners can work here all the year round, with comfort as regards the weather, and at the minimum cost of living.”

The arrival of an excursion steamer at Sitka is made the occasion of a regular holiday, which is very natural with a people who live in so isolated a place. As the steamer enters the several harbors of the inland passage northward, her presence is announced by a report from the cannon on the forecastle, which awakens a score of sonorous echoes from the rocky cliffs and nearest mountains, also serving to arouse the sleepy natives and put the dealers in curios on the qui vive. The few cafés do a thriving business; the nights, never very dark in summer, are turned into day, and hours of revelry prevail. The aboriginal women drive a lively business with their home-made curios, and indiscreet native girls promenade freely with strangers. Peccadilloes are overlooked; no one seems to be held strictly to account. The officials are unusually lenient on such occasions, just as they are in Boston or New York on the Fourth of July.

The immediate environs of Sitka present many rural beauties, including river, forest, and wild flowers, with here and there a rapid, musical cascade. The same species of highly-developed white clover as was seen at Fort Wrangel is a charming feature here, fragrant and lovely, – “Beautiful objects of the wild bees’ love.” Buttercups and dandelions are twice the size of those which we have in New England. Ferns are in great variety, and the mosses are exquisite in their velvety texture, while tenderly shrouding the fallen and decaying trees they present an endless variety of shades in green. There are over three hundred varieties of wild flowers found on Baranoff Island, and wild berries abound here as among all the islands and on the mainland. The wild raspberry, salmon-berry, and thimbleberry are especially luxuriant and fine in size and flavor. The woods are full of song-birds and of others more gaudy of feather. These are only summer visitors, to be sure, among which the rainbow-tinted humming-bird made his presence obvious. A pleasant walk is finely laid out along the banks of the sparkling Indian River, a swift mountain stream, hedged with thrifty and graceful alders, by which means the citizens have created for themselves a charming and favorite promenade. Along the left bank of this beautiful watercourse are woodland scenes of exquisite rural beauty.

It would be foolish to suggest the idea that Alaska promises to become eventually a great agricultural country; but it is equally incorrect to say, as did a certain popular writer not long since, that “there is not an acre of farming land in the Territory.” There are considerable areas of good arable land now under profitable cultivation in the Sitka district, and large farms, rich in virgin soil, could be had for a mere song, as the saying goes, in desirable localities, by clearing away the timber and draining the land. Some twenty-five milk cows are kept at Sitka; milk is sold at ten cents per quart. Fresh venison is cheap and abundant, and fish of various kinds cost nearly nothing. In the immediate vicinity there are three thousand acres of arable land, much of which is well grassed and covered with white clover. On the foot-hills there is plenty of grass for the sustenance of sheep and goats. Experienced residents told us that wool-growing might be profitably pursued as a business here, and that there was not a month in the year when the animals would absolutely require to be housed. Hay is easily made, and is in abundance at cheap rates. “I have never seen finer potatoes, turnips, cabbages, and garden produce generally, than those grown here,” says Governor Swineford in his annual report to the Department at Washington.

There is a great abundance of natural and nutritious grasses in most parts of the country, but especially in the southern islands and the Kodiak group. The great prosperity of Alaska, however, to be looked for in the near future, lies in the energetic development of her coal trade, her fisheries, and her extraordinary mineral wealth. The immense supply of timber, some of which is unsurpassed in its merchantable value, will come into use one or two generations later. The fur-trade, already of gigantic proportions, cannot be judiciously developed beyond its present volume, otherwise the source of supply will gradually become exhausted. It might be quadrupled for a few years, but this would be killing the goose that lays the golden egg. If protected, as our government is striving to do for it to-day, it will continue indefinitely to meet the market demand without glutting or overstocking it. In this connection, and after some inquiry, we cannot refrain from expressing the fear that the legal limit as regards the slaughter of the seals is greatly exceeded. Over three million dollars’ worth of canned salmon were exported from Alaska last year. “This Territory can supply the world with salmon, herring, and halibut of the best quality,” says Dr. Sheldon Jackson.

Twenty miles south of Sitka, on the same island, there are a number of hot springs, strongly impregnated with iron and sulphur, the sanitary nature of which has been known to the Indians for centuries, and hither they have been in the habit of resorting for the cure of certain physical ills, especially rheumatism, to which they are so liable. Vegetation in the neighborhood of these springs is tropical. The temperature of the water is said to be 155° Fah. At the time of the Russian possession the whites built bath-houses on the spot, and much was made of this sanitarium. But all is now neglected, except that the natives still occasionally resort to the place to enjoy the tonic and recuperating effect of the waters. Anything which will promote cleanliness among the Alaskan tribes must be unquestionably of benefit to them. There are plenty of hot mineral springs all over the various island groups of the Territory, and especially that portion which makes out from the Alaska Peninsula westward towards Asia. The most fatal diseases prevailing among the aborigines after consumption are scrofulous affections; the latter is thought to be aggravated, if not induced, by their almost exclusive fish diet, supplemented by their gross uncleanliness. The Aleuts of the south, the Eskimos of the north, and the natives generally of the coast and the interior sleep and live in such dark, dirty, unventilated quarters, reeking with vile odors, that they cannot fail to poison their blood and thus induce a myriad of ills. As we have said, none of these natives seem to have any intelligent idea of medicine, and they do not possess any herbs, so far as we could learn, which are used for medicinal purposes. If a native is furnished with a prescription after the manner of the whites, he requires at least twice the amount of medicine which it is customary to give to a white man, otherwise the dose will have no apparent effect upon his system. This is a never varying experience which medical men have found repeated among all savage races.

As far as one is able to comprehend the religious convictions of the native Sitkans, other than the few who have gone through the form of professing Christianity, they seem to entertain a sort of animal worship, a reverence for special birds and beasts. Like the Japanese they hold certain animals sacred and will not injure them. It is thus that they have some mystical idea about the bear, which prevents them from willingly hunting that animal. Ravens are nearly as numerous in Sitka as they are in Ceylon, and no one will injure then. They believe that the spirits of the departed occupy the bodies of ravens, hawks, and the like. One is reminded that in the temples of Canton the Chinese keep sacred hogs; the Parsees of Bombay worship fire; the Japanese bow before snakes and foxes, as divine symbols; the pious Hindoo deifies cows and monkeys; so there is abundant precedent to countenance these simple natives of Alaska in their crude worship and superstitions.

Their aboriginal belief is called Shamanism, or the propitiating of evil spirits by acceptable offerings. It is significant that the same faith is participated in by the Siberians, on the other side of Behring Strait. This is no new or original form of religion; it was the faith of the Tartar race before they became disciples of Buddhism.

These aborigines seem to anticipate a state of future happiness, but not one of rewards and punishments. All blessedness in this anticipated eternity is for man; woman, it seems, has no real inheritance in this world or the next! Slavery, vice, and misery would thus appear to be her portion in life, and she expects nothing beyond. This picture is not overdrawn. These natives are now as much a part of our population as are the people who live in Massachusetts or Rhode Island, and our manifest duty is to educate them. The light of reason will soon follow, and like the rising sun will burn away this mist of ignorance and superstition. Schools are the most potent missionaries that can be established among any savage race; reasonable religious convictions will follow as a natural result.

“When the missionary,” says W. H. Dall, “will leave the trading-post, strike out into the wilderness, live in the wilderness, live with the Indians, teach them cleanliness first, morality next, and by slow and simple teaching raise their minds above the hunt and the camp, – then, and not until then, they will be able to comprehend the simplest principles of right and wrong.” Though these Indians at the populous centres often pretend to yield to the religious teachings of the professional missionaries, still, like the Chinese religious converts, they are pretty sure to return to their idols and superstitions. When the Roman Catholic Bishop from San Francisco came among the natives of Alaska, and offered to baptize their children, the Indians told him that he might baptize them if he would pay them for it!

H. H. Bancroft, in his work upon the native races of the North Pacific, says: “Thick, black clouds, portentous of evil, hang threateningly over the savage during his entire life. Genii murmur in the flowing river, in the rustling branches of the trees are heard the breathings of the gods, goblins dance in the vapory twilight, and demons howl in the darkness. All these things are hostile to man, and must be propitiated by gifts, prayers, and sacrifices; while the religious worship of some of the tribes includes practices frightful in their atrocity.”

The Sitkans, like many other tribes, used to burn their dead before the missionaries partially dissuaded them from doing so, but some still adopt cremation as a final and most desirable resort. To one who has seen its universal application in India, there are many strong reasons in its favor. The Alaskan native idea of a hell in another world constituted of ice, it is said, causes them to reason that those buried in the earth may be cold forever after, while those whose bodies are burned will be forever warm and comfortable in the next sphere. After the funeral these aborigines, as we have shown, engage in a genuine “wake,” recklessly feasting and drinking to emphasize the importance of the occasion, and to demonstrate their unbounded grief.

The native women occasionally show some taste for music and ability in playing upon the accordion, almost the only instrument found in their possession. A young Indian girl was seen quite alone among the wild flowers just outside the town (Sitka) who had been taught a few pleasing airs, and who surprised us with a well-played strain from a familiar opera. She was a pretty, gypsy-like child of nature, evidently having white blood in her veins, and was not over sixteen years of age. The coarse, scanty clothing could not disguise her handsome form, bright, intelligent face, or hide the depth and splendor of her jet-black luminous eyes. When she discovered us the accordion was quickly thrust behind her, while her downcast eyes expressed mortification at being found alone by the white strangers, playing to the flowers beside the Indian River. She understood English and spoke it fairly well, but hesitated to receive the bright bit of silver offered to her. When we told her that in the East it was the custom to pay those who played to us upon musical instruments out-of-doors, and described the itinerant hand-organist with his monkey, and the brass bands which perambulate city streets, she laughed heartily, thrust the shining silver in her bosom, and held out her hand to greet us cordially. As we turned our steps back towards the town the innocent, winning face of the young girl haunted us with thoughts of hidden possibilities never to be fulfilled.

On the evening before we left Sitka a brass band consisting of twenty-one performers marched down to the wharf from the mission school, in good military order, headed by their teacher as band-master, and serenaded the passengers. The band was composed entirely of native boys, the oldest not over eighteen, not one of whom had ever seen a brass musical instrument two years ago. They performed eight or ten elaborate pieces of composition, not passably well, but admirably, in perfect time, and with real feeling for the music they expressed. It was a surprise to every one on board the Corona to hear such a performance by natives in this isolated spot in the far north. A liberal purse was handed to the teacher to be divided among them.

“Do you know what they will do with this money?” he asked, gratefully.

“Purchase some trifle, each one after his own fancy,” we replied.

“No, sir,” said the teacher, “they will tell me, every one of them, to purchase some new music with the money, which they can practice and learn to play together.”

Their means are of course quite circumscribed, and they have had but little variety afforded them, either in school-books or music. They look upon their musical tuition as a reward for good behavior, and the severest punishment to them is to be deprived of any favorite branch of instruction.

At our final view of Sitka, the quaint capital of Alaska was lying quiet and peacefully at the feet of Vestova, while enshrouded in a voluptuous sheen of afternoon sunlight. A rose-glow rested on everything, beautifying the simplest objects. Lofty, thickly-wooded hills formed the background, while the Greek church and the old castle dominated all the humbler buildings. The waters of the island-dotted bay were as still as an inland lake, and flooded with golden reflections. Now and again an eagle sailed gracefully from one wooded height to another, and the hoarse croak of many ravens, held sacred by the Indians, greeted the ear. A few United States soldiers lounged about their barracks, and a few cannon were arranged upon the broad common. These were light fieldpieces, more for show than for use. Groups of natives clad in bright-colored blankets were seen here and there before their simple dwellings which line the beach. A broad, intensely green plateau forms the centre of the settlement, about which the better houses of the whites are situated. A little to the left, nearer to the hills, is the curiously arranged burial-ground of the aborigines, with a few totem-poles, and many boxes reared above ground in which are deposited the remains of former chiefs. On a slight rise of ground stands the ancient blockhouse, built of logs, from which the Russians once made a desperate fight with the natives. Behind us Mount Edgecombe loomed far up among the clouds, where its apex was half hidden, and in the same direction, not far away, was the open Pacific. It was nearly ten o’clock P. M. before the sun set behind the distant western hills in a blaze of scarlet, yellow, and purple, reflected by soft, butterfly clouds and mountain tops in the east. After that came the luminous moonlight, making a regal glory of the darkness, and flashing in opal gleams from the sea.

While watching the rippling lustre of the water, tremulous with starlight and the languid breath of the night air, one was fain to ask if it was all quite real, if this was not a fancy picture from the land of dreams. Could these be the far-away shores of Alaska? The pathos and tenderness of the scene, the glow, and fire, and throbbing loveliness, were indescribable. Even the few fleecy clouds which sailed between us and the planets seemed as if they came to waft our hymn of praise to Heaven. Is not such surpassing beauty of nature an image of the Infinite One?

CHAPTER XXIII

The Return Voyage. – Prince of Wales Island. – Peculiar Effects. – Island and Ocean Voyages contrasted. – Labyrinth of Verdant Islands. – Flora of the North. – Political Condition of Alaska. – Return to Victoria. – What Clothing to wear on the Journey North. – City of Vancouver. – Scenes in British Columbia. – Through the Mountain Ranges.

The return voyage from Sitka by the inland course takes us first through Peril Straits, so named on account of its many submerged rocks and reefs. It is, however, a wonderfully picturesque passage between the two lofty islands of Chichagoff and Baranoff, strewn as it is with impediments to navigation. We pass the Indian village of Kootznahoo, occupied by a tribe of the same name, people who have always proved to be restless and aggressive, requiring a strong hand to control them. They are peaceable enough now, having been taught some severe lessons by way of discipline. This tribe as a body still adheres to many of the revolting practices of their ancestors, which other Alaskans, who are brought into more intimate relations with the whites, have discarded. They are also said to be more under the influence of their medicine-men, who foster all sorts of vile rites and superstitions, without the prevalence of which their occupation and importance would vanish.

We make our way through the winding channels of the Alexander Archipelago, of which the Prince of Wales Island is one of the largest and most mountainous. It is about a hundred and seventy-five miles long by fifty miles in width; that is to say, it is as large as the State of New Jersey, and in fact contains more square miles. It is mostly covered with dense forests of Alaska cedar, the best of ship-timber. The shores are indented on all sides by fjords extending a considerable distance into the land. Salmon abound in and about this island, which has led to the establishment of several large fish-canning factories, two new ones being added during the past season. The principal native tribe upon the island is known as the Haidas, whose villages are scattered along the coast. The interior of the island is not only uninhabited, but it is unexplored. The shore hamlets are called “rancheries.” Each sub-tribe has a special one representing its capital, where the head chiefs live. Their laws seem to be simply a series of conventionalities. The houses of these Haidas are better structures than those of most natives of the Territory, and they surround themselves, as a rule, with more domestic comforts. Woolen blankets appear to be the investment in which all the spare means of the members of this, as well as most other tribes, are placed, and by the number they possess they estimate their wealth. Woolen blankets, in fact, averaging in value from two dollars and a half to three and a half, are the native currency or circulating medium, being received as such when in good condition; and also given out at the trading stations as payment to natives for furs or for any service, unless specie is preferred.

The meandering course of the steamer brings us now before one Indian hamlet and island, and now another; but these villages are very few in number, hours, and even a whole day, being sometimes passed, while on our course, without meeting a solitary canoe or seeing a human being outside the vessel’s bulwarks. These islands, as a rule, have no gravelly or sandy beach, but spring abruptly from out the almost bottomless sea, in their proportions ranging from an acre to the size of a European principality.

Now and again we come upon a reach of the shore where it is shelving, and for a mile or more it is bastioned by a course of stones, of such uniform height and even surface as to seem like the work of clever stone-masons. Skilled workers with plummet and line could produce nothing more regular.