FAR AND NEAR 



About noon on the 24th, anud fog and Hght rain, 

 we sighted Middleton Island on our starboard, 

 when the ship turned her head sharply northward 

 toward the entrance to the sound. In a few hours 

 we ran out of the fog into clear skies, and were soon 

 steaming across the great sound in warm sunshine. 

 Our route was a devious one: past islands and 

 headlands, then over the immense expanse of the 

 open water with a circle of towering, snow-capped 

 mountains far off along the horizon, then wind- 

 ing through arms and straits, close to tree-tufted 

 islands and steep, spruce-clad mountains, now 

 looking between near-by dark forested hUls upon 

 a group of distant peaks white as midwinter, then 

 upon broad, low, wooded shores with gUmpses of 

 open, meadow-like glades among the trees, suggest- 

 ing tender grass and grazing herds, till in the early 

 evening we sighted a little cluster of buildings peep- 

 ing out of the forest at the base of a lofty moun- 

 tain. This was Orca, where there is a large salmon 

 cannery and a post-office. Here we anchored for the 

 night. In the long twilight some of our party climbed 

 to the top of the mountain, twenty-five hundred feet 

 in height, and brought back a native heather, — bry- 

 anthus, — in bloom. Others of us wandered upon 

 the beach, and engaged in conversation with some 

 gold-seekers just out from Copper River. They were 

 encamped here, waiting for a steamer to take them 

 away and for funds from friends at home to enable 

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