56 
THROUGH WONDERLAND. 
crowded with relics of the fast-disappearing Indian tribes that once formed a 
much denser population in this part of the country than at present. Pretty 
little mats and baskets are made from the sea-grass, dyed with the juices from 
berries and other natural dyes, and sold for the merest trifles. Curiously carved 
steatite houses, in miniature imitation of the Indian dwellings, and “totem 
poles ” made by the Hydah or Haida Indians, are to be seen for sale. Some¬ 
times they carve plaques with spread-eagles and other fanciful designs upon 
them ; rude but serviceable mats from the inner bark of the cedar tree, and all 
the known—and unknown—knick-knacks that can come from the barbaric inge¬ 
nuity of Indian art, and which would require a pamphlet larger than the one in 
the reader’s hands to chronicle half. This is the beginning of such curious, 
wares that will be temptingly displayed before the tourist at every town and 
stopping place on the route, and from which may be selected such mementoes 
of the journey as will please the individual fancy. 
Says a writer in the Overland Monthly, the Century Magazine of the 
Pacific coast: “Victoria, in a rock-bound and land-protected cove, is the most 
attractive and the largest city on Vancouver’s Island. During the days of the 
Fraser river excitement, Victoria was a much more energetic city than it is 
to-day. There were exciting times there then, and, because of the great expec¬ 
tations which everybody indulged in, land was bid up to an enormously high 
figure, and the town’s prospects were considered wonderfully brilliant. But the 
Fraser was a fraud, comparatively, and its mines were quickly exhausted, so that 
Victoria received a setback, from which it is only just recovering. It is a pic¬ 
turesque town, thoroughly English, staid and conservative, and its location is 
an enviable one. In the distance rise the blue-hued heights of the Vancouver 
ranges, and nearer at hand lie the waters of Fuca Straits ; beyond which there 
can be seen the snowy peaks of the Washington Territory mountains. Round¬ 
ing the long point of land which juts out into the sea to form Victoria harbor, 
the town lay all revealed to us at last. In one direction were red painted shops 
set upon a high bluff overlooking the bay, and eastward there were green fields 
and trimly built cottages. 
“ ‘ Coming ashore? ’ we were asked at length. 
“ ‘ Not to-day,’ the artist said. 
“ ‘ Then, don’t judge Victoria until you see the place,’ came the word from 
the dock. 
“ We promised, and said that when homeward bound we would make a call.” 
Returning, the narrator continues, “ On the wharf at Victoria stood our 
friend of a month ago. 
“ ‘ Coming ashore ? ’ he said, when he saw us. 
“ Wes.’ 
“ ‘ Good, we can show you a pretty town. Disappointed in Alaska ? ’ 
“‘No; it’s the grandest country for scenery I— ’ began the artist. 
“Wes, yes, I know,’ said our friend, interrupting him. ‘Big glaciers, fine 
sailing, curious sights, no sea-sickness. Same old story; hear it every trip.’ 
