FAR AND NEAR 



gold fever, it is still feverish and excitable. It is on 

 a broad delta of land made by the Skagway River 

 between the mountains, and, it seems to me, is likely 

 at any time by a great flood in the river to be swept 

 into the sea. It began at the stump and probably is 

 still the stumpiest town in the country. Many of the 

 houses stand upon stumps; there are stumps in 

 nearly every dooryard, but the people already speak 

 of the " early times," three years ago. 



On the steep, bushy mountain-side near the wharf 

 I heard the melodious note of my first Alaska her- 

 mit thrush. It was sweet and pleasing, but not so 

 prolonged and powerful as the song of our hermit. 



WHITE PASS 



The next day the oflicials of the Yukon and White 

 Pass Railroad took our party on an excursion to the 

 top of the famous White Pass, twenty-one miles dis- 

 tant. The grade up the mountain is in places over 

 two hundred feet to the mile, and in making the 

 ascent the train cUmbs about twenty-nine hundred 

 feet. After the road leaves Skagway River its course 

 is along the face of precipitous granite peaks and 

 domes, with long loops around the heads of gorges 

 and chasms; occasionally on trestles over yawning 

 gulfs, but for the most part on a shelf of rock blasted 

 out of the side of the mountain. The train stopped 

 from time to time and allowed us to walk ahead and 

 come face to face with the scene. The terrible and 

 36 



