IN GREEN ALASKA 



mers were not hot, rarely up to 80° Fahrenheit. 

 There were no horses or wheeled vehicles in town, 

 and the streets were grassy lanes. Such a rural, 

 Arcadian air I had never before seen pervading a 

 town upon American soil. There is a Greek church 

 near the wharf, and its chime of bells was in our 

 ears for hours at a time. The only incongruous 

 thing I saw was a building with a big sign on its 

 ridge-board: " Chicago Store." I went in and asked 

 for some fresh eggs; they had none, but directed 

 me to a cottage near the beach. 



I found here a large Russian woman, who had the 

 eggs, for which, after consulting with a younger 

 woman, she wanted " four bits." The potatoes in 

 her garden had tops a foot high, but her currant- 

 bushes were just in bloom. Our stay of five days in 

 this charming place was a dream of rural beauty and 

 repose: warm summer skies above us, green, flower- 

 strewn hills and slopes around us, — our paths were 

 indeed in green pastures and beside still waters. 

 One enticing trail left the old Russian road half a 

 mile north of the village, and led o£E northwest across 

 little mossy and flowery glens, through spruce 

 groves, over little runs, up a shoulder of the moun- 

 tain, and then down a few miles into a broad, 

 green, silent valley that held a fine trout brook. 

 The path was probably made by the village anglers. 

 In looking into such a peaceful, verdant sweep of 

 country, one almost instinctively looked for farm- 

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