Part 8

A BIRD'S-EYE VIEW OF SPOKANE FALLS.

It requires no very profound knowledge of Western geography, no very lengthy study of the State of Washington, to enable anyone to understand without difficulty some of the minor reasons why Spokane Falls should become a great and important city, the metropolis of a vast surrounding country. A glance at the map will show the mountain range that extends up through the Idaho Panhandle, and then along the British Columbia frontier, to the east and north of the city. These mountains are incalculably rich in ores of all kinds, and would amply suffice to make a Denver of Spokane Falls, even if she had no other natural resources to draw from. The Spokane River is the outlet of Lake Coeur d'Alene, a sheet of water sixty miles by six, which is fed by the St. Joseph, St. Mary and Coeur d'Alene Rivers, and which flows through a vast plain until it empties its waters into the Columbia, the Mississippi of the Pacific Coast. From its point of junction with the Spokane, the Columbia makes a big bend in its course until the Snake River is reached, when it turns once more westward, and flows on to empty into the Pacific Ocean. South of the city, stretching westward for some distance from the mountains, and extending in a southerly direction to the Clearwater and Snake Rivers, is a vast country comprising millions of acres, through which the Palouse River and its tributary streams meander, and which is known as the Palouse Valley, a country of unlimited agricultural resources. In the center of all this immense territory is located Spokane Falls, like the hub in the center of a wheel. The word immense is not used unwittingly, for the mountains and plains and valleys make up a country that in Europe would be called a nation, and in New England would form a State. Only a far-off corner of the Union, it may seem to some readers, yet there are powerful empires which possess less natural resources than it can call its own. The city itself lies on both sides of the Spokane River, at the point where that stream, separated by rocky islands into five separate channels, rushes onward and downward, at first being merely a series of rapids, and then tumbling over the rocks in a number of beautiful and useful waterfalls, until the several streams unite once again for a final plunge of sixty feet, making a fall of 157 feet in the distance of half a mile. This waterfall, with its immense power, would alone make a city; engineers have estimated its force at 90,000 horse-power, and it is so distributed that it can be easily utilized.

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Fourth Tour.--To

ALASKA.

The native islanders called the mainland "Al-ay-ek-sa," which signifies "great country," and the word has been corrupted into "Alaska." This immense empire, it will be remembered, was sold by Russia to the United States October 18, 1867, for $7,500,000. The country was discovered by Vitus Behring in 1741. Alaska has an area of 578,000 square miles, and is nearly one-fifth as large as all the other States and Territories combined. It is larger than twelve States the size of New York.

The best time to visit Alaska is from May to September. The latter month is usually lovely, and the sea beautifully smooth, but the days begin to grow short. The trip occupies about twenty-five days.

As the rainfall in Alaska is usually very large, it naturally follows that an umbrella is a convenient companion. A gossamer for a lady and a mackintosh for a gentleman, and heavy shoes, and coarse, warm and comfortable clothing for both should be provided.

There are no "Palace" hotels in Alaska. One will have no desire to remain over there a trip. The tourist goes necessarily when and where the steamer goes, will have an opportunity to see all there is of note or worth seeing in Southeastern Alaska. The steamer sometimes goes north as far as Chilcat, say up to about the 58th degree of north latitude. The pleasure is not so much in the stopping as in the going. One is constantly passing through new channels, past new islands, opening up new points of interest, until finally a surfeit of the grand and magnificent in nature is reached.

A correspondent of a western journal signing himself "Emerald" has written a description of this Alaskan tour in September, 1888. It is so charmingly done, so fresh, so vivid, and so full of interesting detail, that it is given herewith entire:

ON STEAMSHIP "GEORGE W. ELDER,"

PUGET SOUND, September, 1888.

We have all thought we were fairly appreciative of the wealth and wonders of Uncle Sam's domain. At Niagara we have gloried in the belief that all the cataracts of other lands were tame; but we changed our mind when we stood on the brink of Great Shoshone Falls. In Yellowstone the proudest thought was that all the world's other similar wonders were commonplace; and at Yosemite's Inspiration Point the unspeakable thrill of awe and delight was richly heightened by the grand idea that there was no such majesty or glory beyond either sea. But after all this, we now know that it yet remains for the Alaskan trip to rightly round out one's appreciation and admiration of the size and grandeur of our native land.

Some of our most delighted voyageurs are from Portland, Maine. When they had journeyed some 1,500 miles to Omaha they imagined themselves at least half way across our continent. Then, when they had finished that magnificent stretch of some 1,700 miles more from Omaha to Portland, Oregon, in the palace cars of the Union Pacific, they were quite sure of it. Of course, they confessed a sense of mingled disappointment and eager anticipation when they learned that they were yet less than half way. They learned what is a fact--that the extreme west coast of Alaska is as far west of Sitka as Portland, Maine, is east of Portland, Oregon, and the further fact that San Francisco lacks 4,000 mile's of being as far west as Uncle Sam's "Land's End," at extreme Western Alaska. It is a great country; great enough to contain one river--the Yukon--about as large as the Mississippi, and a coast line about twice as long as all the balance of the United States. It is twelve times as large as the State of New York, with resources that astonish every visitor, and a climate not altogether bad, as some would have it. The greatest trouble is that during the eighteen years it has been linked to our chain of Territories it has been treated like a discarded offspring or outcast, cared for more by others than its lawful protector. But, like many a refugee, it is carving for itself a place which others will yet envy. But, to

OUR TRIP.

There are seven in our party, mainly from Chicago. After a week of delightful mountaineering at Idaho Springs, in Platte Cañon, and other Union Pacific resorts in Colorado, we indulged in that delicious plunge at Garfield Beach, Salt Lake, and, en route to Portland over the Union Pacific Ry., quaffed that all but nectar at Soda Springs, Idaho, and dropped off a day to take a peep, at Shoshone Falls, which, in all seriousness, have attractions of which even our great Niagara can not boast. We found that glorious dash down through the palisades of the Columbia, and the sail, through the entrancing waterways of Puget Sound, a fitting prelude to our recent Alaskan journey.

The Alaskan voyage is like a continuous dream of pleasure, so placid and quiet are the waters of the landlocked sea and so exquisitely beautiful the environment. The route keeps along the east shore of Vancouver Island its entire length, through the Gulf of Georgia, Johnstone strait, and out into Queen Charlotte Sound, where is felt the first swell of old ocean, and our staunch steamship "Elder" was rocked in its cradle for about four hours. Oftentimes we seemed to be bound by mountains on every side, with no hope of escape; but the faithful deck officer on watch would give his orders in clear, full tones that brought the bow to some passage leading to the great beyond. In narrow straits the steamer had to wait for the tide; then would she weave in and out, like a shuttle in a loom, among the buoys, leaving the black ones on the left and the red ones on the right, and ever and anon they would be in a straight line, with the wicked boulder-heads visible beneath the surface or lifting their savage points above, compelling almost a square corner to be turned in order to avoid them. At such times the passengers were all on deck, listening to the captain's commands, and watching the boat obey his bidding.

From Victoria to Tongas Narrows the distance is 638 miles, and here was the first stop for the tourists. The event here was going ashore in rowboats, and in the rain, only to see a few dirty Indians--a foresight of what was to follow--and a salmon-packing house not yet in working order.

From Tongas Narrows to Fort Wrangel, thousands of islands fill the water, while the mainland is on the right and Prince of Wales Island on the extreme left.

FORT WRANGEL.

Like all Alaska towns, it is situated at the base of lofty peaks along the water's edge at the head of moderately pretty harbors. It seems to be the generic home of storms, and the mountains, the rocks, the buildings, and trees, and all, show the weird workings of nature's wrath. In 1863 it was a thriving town where miners outfitted for the mines of the Stikeen river and Cassian mines of British Columbia; but that excitement has temporarily subsided, and the $150,000 government buildings are falling in decay. The streets are filled with debris, and everything betokens the ravages of time. The largest and most grotesque totem poles seen on the trip here towered a height of fifty feet. Those poles represent a history of the family and the ancestry as far as they can trace it. If they are of the Wolf tribe a huge wolf is carved at the top of the pole, and then on down with various signs to the base, the great events of the family and the intermarriages, not forgetting to give place to the good and bad gods who assisted them. The genealogy of a tribe is always traced back through the mother's side. The totem poles are sometimes very large, perhaps four feet at the base. When the carving is completed they are planted firmly in front of the hut, there to stay until they fall away. At the lower end, some four feet from the ground, there is an opening into the already hollowed pole, and in this are put the bones of the burned bodies of the family. It is only the wealthier families who support a totem pole, and no amount of money can induce an Indian to part with his family tree.

THE GRAVES

of those not having totems are found in clusters, or scattered on the mountain sides, or anywhere convenience dictates. The bones are put in a box with all the belongings of the deceased, and then deposited anywhere. The natives are exceedingly superstitious and jealous in their care of the dead, and would sooner die than molest or steal from a grave. That tourists who are supposed to be civilized, refined, and Christianized should steal from them is a crime which should never be tolerated, as it was among the passengers of our steamer.

The natives have a belief that all bodies cremated turn into ravens, and that probably accounts to them for the endless number of those birds in Alaska. Ravens are sacred birds to them, and are never molested in anyway. There are other methods of disposing of the dead in different parts of Alaska. The bones are sometimes put in a canoe and raised high in the air on straddles; again, in trees above the reach of prowling animals, or set adrift in a discarded canoe.

JUNEAU--THE TREADWELL MINE.

After leaving Wrangel the steamer anchored off Salmon Bay to lighter eighty tons of salt for fishermen, then on to Juneau and Douglas Islands. Here was the same general appearance of location, the gigantic background of densely wooded mountains, the tide-washed streets, on broken slopes, the dirty native women with their wares for sale, with prices advanced 200 per cent, since the steamer whistled, and behind them their stern male companions, goading them on to make their sales, and stealthily kicking them in their crouched positions if they came down on their prices to an eager but economical tourist.

Juneau is the only town of any importance on the mainland. It has arisen to that dignity through the quality of its mines, and it is now the mining centre of Alaska. Here we found Edward I. Parsons, of San Francisco, erecting an endless-rope tramway for conducting ores to a ten-stamp mill now under construction. Mr. Parsons has had large experience in this line, and his tales of "Tramway Life" in Mexico are intensely thrilling and full of interest. It is to be hoped that the good people of Juneau will see to it that he does not have to eat the native dishes, as he did in the land of the greasers. The festive dog is all right in his place, but rather revolting to an epicure.

The famous Treadwell gold mine lies across the bay, on Douglas Island. It is noted, not so much for its richness per ton, but for its vast extent. The 120-stamp mill makes such a deafening noise that there is no fear that the curious minded will cause employés to waste any time answering questions, for nothing can be heard but the rise and fall of the great crushers and the crunching of the ores. The ore is so plentiful that an addition of 120 stamps is being added to the present capacity. The hole blasted by the miners looks like the crater of a huge volcano without the circling top, and sloping down to an apex from which is the tunnel to the mill. The Treadwell yields about $200,000 per month, and will double that when the mill is completed.