THE ALUMNI JOURNAL 163 



THE ANECDOTE OF A DRUG CLERK'S TRAVELS 



(Continued from last issue). 



The discord in the singing would have made a coronet wail with 

 pain. He thought he was singing to the walls when a lady tapped 

 him on the shoulder and whispered, "would you kindly lead the 

 singing?" Perhaps he was stunned, but managed to reply, "I beg 

 to be excused." Back of the organ a dozen vacant chairs, waiting 

 for the missing choir. Weary of the place he bought his ticket 

 for Seattle after seeing several places in this vast unbroken plain. 

 This time over another road, the tracks of which laid to conform 

 with the plains, with no grade, made it seem like riding in a donkey 

 cart, and on reaching Shelby Junction, a distance of a hundred 

 miles, felt as sore as if he had lumbago or sciatica. Was he going 

 to live or perish, no position, and his search for a companion still 

 in vain? 



Still through more of the most romantic scenery one could pic- 

 ture, the Blackfoot Indian country with its rich hunting grounds, 

 over mountains with snow-covered peaks surrounding, past wind- 

 ing rivers, towering pines and cedars until Seattle was reached. 

 Baggage please for Lorimer House, and before he could realize 

 where he stood, was hustled off to said hotel. In the lobby were 

 surly loungers, stretched out with their Klondyke boots, one fellow 

 with a filthy pipe expectorating it seemed everywhere, and sput- 

 tering blasphemy as hard and loud as a ton of coal down a chute. 

 Another with a grizzly beard like the quills of a porcupine and eyes 

 which were burning- from liquor. In another corner two thumping 

 a table at a game of poker and almost tearing each other to pieces, 

 canvas bags lying in all directions told him that this was head- 

 quarters for stranded miners from the north country or those re- 

 turned with fortunes' happy tura Fear did not overcome him 

 for he knew what a rough country he had to contend with. The 

 streets were black with idle men tramping up and down the filthy 

 streets, in the business section mostly paved with planks. The 

 cross streets leading to residential parts were abnormally steep 

 to make those who walked them stoop-shouldered. Cable cars 

 running over these streets seemed like the Coney Island Chute the 

 Chutes. The United States Assay office standing on one of the hill 

 streets was an interesting feature of the town. Here the gold 

 from the "Klondyke" was weighed, assayed and formed into bricks. 

 The shining barrels of two rifles could be seen inside the office 

 grating, for such precautions were certainly necessary, as the 

 country swarmed with desperate men who had been stranded here 

 after failing in their purpose up at the Klondyke, some of them bad 

 men from the \\^est. Washington Street was known as the dead- 

 line, for below it toward the saw-mills and shops it was unsafe to 



