220 OUR AECTIC PROVINCE. 



lies close down to the north shore, right under a low hill upon which 

 the Russians in olden times posted a huge Greek cross, that is still 

 standing ; indeed it was the habit of those early days of occupation 

 in Alaska to erect such monuments everywhere on conspicuous 

 elevations adjacent to the posts or settlements. One of these is 

 still standing at Northeast Point, on the large sand-dune there which 

 overlooks the killing-grounds, and another sound stalwart cross yet 

 faces the gales and driving " boorgas " on the summit of Bogaslov 

 Mountain, as it has withstood them during the last sixty years. 



To the eastward, six miles from Northeast Point, will be noticed 

 a small rock named Walrus Island. It is a mere ledge of lava, flat- 

 capped, lifted just above the wash of angry waves ; indeed, in 

 storms of great power, the observer, standing on either Cross or 

 Hutchinson's Hills, with a field-glass, can see the water breaking 

 clear over it : these storms, however, occur late in the season, 

 usually in October or November. This island has little or no com- 

 mercial importance, being scarcely more than a quarter of a mile in 

 length and one hundred yards in point of greatest width, with bold 

 water all around, entirely free from reefs or sunken rocks. As 

 might be expected, there is no fresh water on it. In a fog it makes 

 an ugly neighbor for the sea-captains when they are searching for 

 St. Paul ; they all know it, and they all dread it. It is not resorted 

 to by the fur-seals or by sea-lions in particular ; but, singularly 

 enough, it is frequented by several hundred male walrus, to the 

 exclusion of females, every summer. A few sea-lions, but only a very 

 few, however, breed here. On account of the rough weather, fogs, 

 etc., this little islet is seldom visited by the natives of St. Paul, and 

 then only in the egging season of late June and early July when 

 that surf -beaten breakwater literally swarms with breeding sea-fowl. 



This low, tiny, island is, perhaps, the most interesting single 

 spot now known to the naturalist who may land in northern seas, 

 to study the habits of bird-life ; for here, without exertion or 

 risk, he can observe and walk among tens upon tens of thousands 

 of screaming water-fowl ; and, as he sits down upon the polished 

 lava rock, he becomes literally ignored and environed by these 

 feathered friends, as they reassume their varied positions of incu- 

 bation, from which he disturbs them by his arrival. Generation 

 after generation of their kind have resorted to this rock unmolested, 

 and to-day, when you get among them, all doubt and distrust seem 

 to have been eliminated from their natures. The island itself is 



