Scenic Grandeur of Alaska 247 



and the snow disappears gradually in the forest 

 below. 



I said I awakened to see the trees. We were 

 now approaching "the prettiest place in Alaska," 

 formerly called Kadiak, same as the large island, 

 but now called St. Paul. The whole scene of cav- 

 erned shores, island-studded waters, and overhang- 

 ing trees was indeed very pretty, and it was on a 

 wide amplitude of view. I made a close study of 

 the rock at the left of the harbor as one goes in, 

 to see if I could climb it, not that I would try it, 

 for after my experience in Unalaska I have become 

 a theoretical mountain-climber. The top is flat and 

 green and about an acre in extent. It is about 

 three hundred feet high. The table with its moss 

 overhangs the perpendicular wall on all sides like a 

 mushroom. Millions of kittiwakes are flashing in 

 and out of the shadow of the rock and of the over- 

 hanging top. No, I will venture to say that 

 nobody's foot ever pressed the verdure on the top 

 of that rock. Back in the hills is a low-grade-ore 

 mill of the Treadwell type, turning out a thirty- 

 thousand-dollar brick per month. Out around the 

 cape is a rock-dotted bay, and beyond is "Wooded 

 Island," the one we sheered so closely to in the 

 early morning. There is a Baptist mission with 

 pretty white buildings nestling on the light green 

 grass and among the dark green trees. It is true, 

 one would have to travel far to find a prettier place 

 than St. Paul, on Kadiak Island, Alaska. 



