"Travels in Alaska 



fatuus.''^ When Mr. Young was called from his bed 

 to pray, he, too, confoundedly astonished and at a loss 

 for any sort of explanation, confessed that he had 

 never seen anything like it in the sky or anywhere 

 else in such cold wet weather, but that it was prob- 

 ably some sort of spontaneous combustion "that the 

 white man called St. Elmo's fire, or Will-of-the-wisp." 

 These explanations, though not convincingly clear, 

 perhaps served to veil their own astonishment and in 

 some measure to diminish the superstitious fears of 

 the natives; but from what I heard, the few whites 

 who happened to see the strange light wondered 

 about as wildly as the Indians. 



I have enjoyed thousands of camp-fires in all sorts 

 of weather and places, warm-hearted, short-flamed, 

 friendly little beauties glowing in the dark on open 

 spots in high Sierra gardens, daisies and lilies circled 

 about them, gazing like enchanted children; and 

 large fires in silver fir forests, with spires of flame 

 towering like the trees about them, and sending up 

 multitudes of starry sparks to enrich the sky; and 

 still greater fires on the mountains in winter, chang- 

 ing camp climate to summer, and making the frosty 

 snow look like beds of white flowers, and oftentimes 

 mingling their swarms of swift-flying sparks with 

 falling snow-crystals when the clouds were in bloom. 

 But this Wrangell camp-fire, my first in Alaska, I 

 shall always remember for its triumphant storm-defy- 

 ing grandeur, and the wondrous beauty of the psalm- 

 singing, lichen-painted trees which it brought to light. 



