LIST OF AGENTS.

ALBANY, N.Y.—23 Maiden Lane—J.D.
TENBROECK. Trav. Pass. Agt.
BOSTON, MASS.—290 Washington St.—W.S. CONDELL,
New England Freight and Passenger Agent.
  J.S. SMITH, Traveling Passenger Agent.
  E.M. NEWBEGIN, Traveling Freight and Passenger
Agent.
  A.P. MASSEY, Passenger and Freight Solicitor.
BUFFALO, N.Y.—40½ Exchanges St.—S.A.
HUTCHISON, Trav. Pass. Agt.
BUTTE, MONT.—Corner Main and Broadway—General
Agt.
CHEYENNE, WYO.—C.W. SWEET, Freight and Ticket
Agent.
CHICAGO, ILL.—191 South Clark St.—W.H. KNIGHT,
Gen’l Agt. P. and F. Dep’ts.
  T.W. YOUNG, Traveling Passenger Agent.
  W.T. HOLLY, City Passenger Agent.
  ALFRED MORTESSEN & CO., European Immigration
Agts., 140 Kinzie St.
CINCINNATI, OHIO—56 West 4th St.—J.D. WELSH,
Gen’l Agt. P. and F. Dep’ts.
  H.C. SMITH, Traveling Freight and Passenger Agent.
CLEVELAND, OHIO—Kennard House.—A.G. SHEARMAN,
T. F. and P. Agt.
COLORADO SPRINGS, COLO.—E.D. BAXTER, Gen’l Agt D., T.
& Ft. W. R.R.
COLUMBUS, OHIO—N.W. Cor. Gay and High Sts.—T.C.
HIRST, Trav. Pass. Agt.
COUNCIL BLUFFS, IOWA—506 First Ave.—A.J.
MANDERSON, General Agt.
  R.W. CHAMBERLAIN, Passenger Agent, Transfer Depot.
  J.W. MAYNARD, Ticket Agent, Transfer Depot.
  A.T. ELWELL, City Ticket Agent, 507 Broadway.
DALLAS, TEX.—H.M. DE HART, General Agent D., T. &
Ft. W. R.R.
DENVER, COLO.—1703 Larimer St.—F.I. SMITH,
Gen’l Agt. D., T. & Ft. W. R.R.
  GEO. ADY, General Passenger Agent, Colo. Div. and D.,
T. & Ft. W. R.R.
  F.B. SEMPLE, Ass’t Gen’l Pass. Agt, Colo. Div. and D.,
T. & Ft. W. R.R.
  C.H. TITUS, Traveling Passenger Agent.
  R.P.M. KIMBALL, City Ticket Agent.
DES MOINES, IOWA—218 4th St.—E.M. FORD,
Traveling Passenger Agent.
DETROIT, MICH.—62 Griswold St.—D.W. JOHNSTON,
Michigan Pass. Agt.
HELENA, MONT.—2 North Main St.—A.E. VEAZIE,
City Ticket Agent.
INDIANAPOLIS, IND.—Room 3 Jackson Place.—H.O.
WEBB, Traveling Passenger Agent.
KANSAS CITY, MO.—9th and Broadway.—J.B.
FRAWLEY, Div. Pass. Agt.
  J.B. REESE, Traveling Passenger Agent.
  F.S. HAACKE, Traveling Passenger Agent.
  H.K. PROUDFIT, City Passenger Agent.
  T.A. SHAW, Ticket Agent, 1038 Union Ave.
  A.W. MILLSPAUGH, Ticket Agent, Union Depot.
  C.A. WHITTIER, City Ticket Agent, 528 Main St.
LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND—23 Water St.—S. STAMFORD
PARRY, General European Agent.
LONDON, ENGLAND—THOS. COOK & SONS, European
Passenger Agents, Ludgate Circus.
LOS ANGELES, CAL.—51 North Spring St.—JOHN
CLARK, Agt. Pass. Dep’t.
  A.J. HECHTMAN, Agent Freight Department.
LOUISVILLE, KY.—346 West Main St.—N. HAIGHT,
Traveling Pass. Agent.
NEW ORLEANS, LA.—45 St. Charles St.—C.B. SMITH,
General Agent D., T. & Ft. W. R.R.
  D.M. REA, Traveling Agent D., T. & Ft. W. R.R.
NEW YORK CITY—287 Broadway—R. TENBROECK,
General Eastern Agent.
  J.F. WILEY, Passenger Agent.
  F.R. SEAMAN, City Passenger Agent.
OGDEN, UTAH—Union Depot—C.A. HENRY, Ticket
Agent.
  C.E. INGALLS, Traveling Passenger Agent.
OLYMPIA, WASH.—2d St. Wharf.—J.C. PERCIVAL,
Ticket Agent.
OMAHA, NEB.—9th and Farnam Sts.—M.J. GREEVY,
Trav. Pass. Agt.
  HARRY P. DEUEL, City Passenger and Ticket Agent, 1302
Farnam St.
  J.K. CHAMBERS, Depot Ticket Agent, 10th and Marey
Sts.
PHILADELPHIA, PA.—133 South 4th St.—D.E.
BURLEY, Trav. Pass. Agt.
  L.T. FOWLER, Traveling Freight Agent.
PITTSBURG, PA.—400 Wood St.—H.E. PASSAVANT, T.
F. and P. A.
  THOS. S. SPEAR, Traveling Freight and Passenger
Agent.
PORTLAND, ORE.—Cor. 3d and Oak Sts.—T.W. LEE,
Gen’l Passenger Agent, Pacific Div.
  A.L. MAXWELL, General Agent Traffic Department.
  HARRY YOUNG, Traveling Passenger Agent.
  GEO. S. TAYLOR, City Ticket Agent. Cor. 1st and Oak
Sts.
PORT TOWNSEND, WASH.—Union Wharf—H.L. TIBBALS,
Jr., Ticket Agt.
PUEBLO, COLO.—E.R. HARDING, General Agent D., T.
& Ft. W. R.R.
ST. JOSEPH, MO.—F.L. LYNDE, General Pass. Agent, St.
J. & G.I. R.R. Div.
  W.P. ROBINSON, Jr., General Freight Agent, St. J.
& G.I. R.R. Div.
ST. LOUIS, MO.—213 North 4th St.—J.F. AGLAR,
Gen’l Agt. F. and P. Dep’t.
  E.R. TUTTLE, Traveling Passenger Agent.
  E.S. WILLIAMS, City Passenger Agent.
  C.C. KNIGHT, Freight Contracting Agent.
SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH—201 Main St.—J.V. PARKER,
Assistant General Freight and Passenger Agent, Mountain Div.
SAN FRANCISCO, CAL.—1 Montgomery St.—W.H.
HURLBURT, Assistant General Passenger Agent, Mo. Riv. Div.
  S.W. ECCLES, General Agent Freight Department.
  C.L. HANNA, Traveling Passenger Agent.
  H. FRODSHAM, Passenger Agent.
  J.F. FUGAZI, Italian Emigrant Agent, 5 Montgomery
Ave.
SEATTLE, WASH.—A.C. MARTIN, City Ticket Agent.
  O.F. BRIGGS, Ticket Agent, Dock.
SIOUX CITY, IOWA—513 Fourth St.—D.M. COLLINS,
General Agent.
  GEO. E. ABBOT, City Ticket Agent.
SPOKANE FALLS, WASH.—108 Riverside Ave.—PERRY
GRIFFIN, Passenger and Ticket Agent.
TACOMA, WASH.—901 Pacific Ave.—E.E. ELLIS,
Gen’l Agt. F. and P. Dep’ts.
TRINIDAD, COLO.—G.M. JACOBS, General Agent D., T.
& Ft. W. R.R.
VICTORIA, B.C.—100 Government St.—G.A. COOPER,
Ticket Agent.
WHATCOM, WASH.—J.W. ALTON, Gen’l Agent Freight and
Pass. Dep’ts.

J.A.S. REED, General Traveling
Agent, 191 South Clark St., CHICAGO.
ALBERT WOODCOCK, General Land Commissioner, OMAHA,
NEB.

The Private Hotel, Dining, Hunting and Sleeping Cars of the
Pullman Company will accommodate from 12 to 18 persons, allowing a
full bed to each, and are fitted with such modern conveniences as
private, observation and smoking rooms, folding beds, reclining
chairs, buffets and kitchens. They are “just the thing” for
tourists, theatrical companies, sportsmen, and private parties. The
Hunting Cars have special conveniences, being provided with
dog-kennels, gun-racks, fishing-tackle, etc. These cars can be
chartered at following rates per diem (the time being reckoned from
date of departure until return of same, unless otherwise arranged
with the Pullman Company):

Ten Days or over, $5.00 per day less than above. Hotel, Buffet,
or Sleeping Cars can also be chartered for continuous trips without
lay-over between points where extra cars are furnished (cars to be
given up at destination), as follows:

For each additional berth rate of 50 cents, car rate will be
increased $10.00.

Above rates include service of polite and skillful attendants.
The commissariat will also be furnished if desired. Such chartered
cars must contain not less than 15 persons holding full first-class
tickets, and another full fare ticket will be required for each
additional passenger over 15. If chartered “per diem” cars are
given up en route, chartering party must arrange for return
to original starting point free, or pay amount of freight necessary
for return thereto. Diagrams showing interior of these cars can be
had of any agent of the Company.

PULLMAN DINING CARS

are attached to the Council Bluffs and Denver Vestibuled
Express, daily between Council Bluffs and Denver, and to “The
Limited Fast Mail,” running daily between Council Bluffs and
Portland, Ore.

MEALS.

All trains, except those specified above (under head of Pullman
Dining Cars), stop at regular eating stations, where first-class
meals are furnished, under the direct supervision of this Company,
by the Pacific Hotel Company. Neat and tidy lunch counters are also
to be found at these stations.

BUFFET SERVICE.

Particular attention is called to the fine Buffet Service
offered by the Union Pacific System to its patrons. Pullman Palace
Buffet Sleepers now run on trains Nos. 1, 2, 201, and 202.

SIGHTS AND SCENES IN
OREGON, WASHINGTON AND ALASKA.

Oregon is a word derived from the Spanish, and means “wild
thyme,” the early explorers finding that herb growing there in
great profusion. So far as we have any record Oregon seems to have
been first visited by white men in 1775; Captain Cook coasted down
its shores in 1778. Captain Gray, commanding the ship “Columbia,”
of Boston, Mass., discovered the noble river in 1791, which he
named after his ship. Astoria was founded in 1811; immigration was
in full tide in 1839; Territorial organization was effected in
1848, and Oregon became a State on 14th February, 1859. It has an
area of 96,000 square miles, and is 350 miles long by 275 miles
wide. There are 50,000,000 acres of arable and grazing land, and
10,000,000 acres of forest in the State.

The Union Pacific Railway will sell at greatly reduced rates a
series of excursion tickets called “Columbia Tours,” using Portland
as a central point. Stop-over privileges will be given within the
limitation of the tickets.

First Columbia Tour—Portland to “The
Dalles,” by rail, and return by river.

Second Columbia Tour—Portland to Astoria,
Ilwaco, and Clatsop Beach, and return by river.

Third Columbia Tour—Portland to Port
Townsend, Seattle, and Tacoma by boat and return.

Fourth Columbia Tour—Portland to Alaska
and return.

Fifth Columbia Tour—Portland to San
Francisco by boat.

Is a very beautiful city of 60,000 inhabitants, and situated on
the Willamette river twelve miles from its junction with the
Columbia. It is perhaps true of many of the growing cities of the
West, that they do not offer the same social advantages as the
older cities of the East. But this is principally the case as to
what may be called boom cities, where the larger part of the
population is of that floating class which follows in the line of
temporary growth for the purposes of speculation, and in no sense
applies to those centers of trade whose prosperity is based on the
solid foundation of legitimate business. As the metropolis of a
vast section of country, having broad agricultural valleys filled
with improved farms, surrounded by mountains rich in mineral
wealth, and boundless forests of as fine timber as the world
produces, the cause of Portland’s growth and prosperity is the
trade which it has as the center of collection and distribution of
this great wealth of natural resources, and it has attracted, not
the boomer and speculator, who find their profits in the wild
excitement of the boom, but the merchant, manufacturer, and
investor, who seek the surer if slower channels of legitimate
business and investment. These have come from the East, most of
them within the last few years. They came as seeking a better and
wider field to engage in the same occupations they had followed in
their Eastern homes, and bringing with them all the love of polite
life which they had acquired there, have established here a new
society, equaling in all respects that which they left behind. Here
are as fine churches, as complete a system of schools, as fine
residences, as great a love of music and art, as can be found at
any city of the East of equal size.

But while Portland may justly claim to be the peer of any city
of its size in the United States in all that pertains to social
life, in the attractions of beauty of location and surroundings it
stands without its peer. The work of art is but the copy of nature.
What the residents of other cities see but in the copy, or must
travel half the world over to see in the original, the resident of
Portland has at his very door.

The city is situate on gently-sloping ground, with, on the one
side, the river, and on the other a range of hills, which, within
easy walking distance, rise to an elevation of a thousand feet
above the river, affording a most picturesque building site. From
the very streets of the thickly settled portion of the city, the
Cascade Mountains, with the snow-capped peaks of Hood, Adams, St.
Helens, and Rainier, are in plain view. As the hills to the west
are ascended the view broadens, until, from the extreme top of some
of the higher points, there is, to the east, the valley stretching
away to the Cascade Mountains, with its rivers, the Columbia and
Willamette; in the foreground Portland, in the middle distance
Vancouver, and, bounding the horizon, the Cascade Mountains, with
their snow-clad peaks, and the gorge of the Columbia in plain
sight, whilst away to the north the course of the Columbia may be
followed for miles. To the west, from the foot of the hills, the
valley of the Tualatin stretches away twenty odd miles to the Coast
Range, which alone shuts out the view of the Pacific Ocean and
bounds the horizon on the west. To the glaciers of Mt. Hood is but
little more than a day’s travel. The gorge of the Columbia, which
in many respects equals, and in others surpasses the far-famed
Yosemite, may be visited in the compass of a day. The Upper
Willamette, within the limits of a few hours’ trip, offers beauties
equaling the Rhine, whilst thirty-six hours gives the Lower
Columbia, beside which the Rhine and Hudson sink into
insignificance. In short, within a few hours’ walk of the heart of
this busy city are beauties surpassing the White Mountains or
Adirondacks, and the grandeur of the Alps lies within the limits of
a day’s picnicking.

There is no better guarantee of the advantageous position of
Portland than the wealth which has accumulated here in the short
period which has elapsed since the city first sprang into
existence. Theory is all very well, but the actual proof is in the
result. At the taking of the census of 1880, Portland was the third
wealthiest city in the world in proportion to population; since
that date wealth has accumulated at an unprecedented rate, and it
is probable it is to-day the wealthiest. Among all her wealthy men,
not one can be singled out who did not make his money here, who did
not come here poor to grow rich.

Portland enjoys superb advantages as a starting-point for
tourist travel. After the traveler has enjoyed the numerous
attractions of that wealthy city, traversed its beautiful avenues,
viewed a strikingly noble landscape from “The Heights,” and
explored those charming environs which extend for miles up and down
the Willamette, there remains perhaps the most invigorating and
healthful trip of all—a journey either by

There must ever remain in the mind of the tourist a peculiarly
delightful recollection of a day on the majestic Columbia River,
the all too short run across that glorious sheet of water, Puget
Sound, or the fifty hours’ luxurious voyage on the Pacific Ocean,
from Portland to San Francisco.

Beginning first with the Columbia River, the traveler will find
solid comfort on any one of the boats belonging to the Union
Pacific Railway fleet. This River Division is separated into three
subdivisions: the Lower Columbia from Portland to Astoria, the
Middle Columbia from Portland to Cascade Locks, and the Upper
Columbia from the Cascades to The Dalles.

Passengers will remember that, arriving at The Dalles, on the
Union Pacific Railway, they have the option of proceeding into
Portland either by rail or river, and their ticket is available for
either route.

The river trip will be found a very pleasant diversion after the
long railway ride, and a day’s sail down the majestic Columbia is a
memory-picture which lasts a life-time. It is eighty-eight miles by
rail to Portland, the train skirting the river bank up to within a
few miles of the city. By river, it is forty-five miles to the
Upper Cascades, then a six-mile portage via narrow-gauge railway,
then sixty miles by steamer again to Portland. The boat leaves The
Dalles at about 7 in the morning, and reaches Portland at 6 in the
evening. The accommodations on these boats are first-class in every
respect; good table, neat staterooms, and courteous attendants.

This tour is planned for those who may wish to start from
Portland by the Union Pacific Railway. Take the evening train from
Portland to The Dalles. Arriving at The Dalles, walk down to the
boat, which lies only a few yards down stream from the station.
Sleep on board, so that you may be ready early in the morning for
the stately panorama of the river. Another plan is to give a day to
the interesting country in the near vicinity. The Dalles proper of
the Columbia begin at Celilo, fourteen miles above this point, and
are simply a succession of rapids, until, nearing The Dalles
Station, the stream for two and a half miles narrows down between
walls of basaltic rock 130 feet across. In the flood-tides of the
spring the water in this chasm has risen 126 feet. The word
“Dalles” is rather misleading. The word is French, “dalle,” and
means, variously, “a plate,” “a flagstone,” “a slab,” alluding to
the oval or square shaped stones which abound in the river bed and
the valley above. But the early French hunters and trappers called
a chasm or a defile or gorge, “dalles,” meaning in their vernacular
“a trough”—and “Dalles” it has remained. There is a quaint
Indian legend connected with the spot which may interest the
curious, and it runs something on this wise, Clark’s Fork and the
Snake river, it will be remembered, unite at Ainsworth to form the
Columbia. It flows furiously for a hundred miles and more westward,
and when it reaches the outlying ridges of the Cascade chain it
finds an immense low surface paved with enormous sheets of basaltic
rock. But here is the legend:

In the very ancient far-away times the sole and only inhabitants
of the world were fiends, and very highly uncivilized fiends at
that. The whole Northwest was then one of the centres of volcanic
action. The craters of the Cascades were fire breathers and
fountains of liquid flame. It was an extremely fiendish country,
and naturally the inhabitants fought like devils. Where the great
plains of the Upper Columbia now spread was a vast inland sea,
which beat against a rampart of hills to the east of The Dalles.
And the great weapon of the fiends in warfare was their tails,
which were of prodigious size and terrible strength. Now, the
wisest, strongest, and most subtle fiend of the entire crew was one
fiend called the “Devil.” He was a thoughtful person and viewed
with alarm the ever increasing tendency among his neighbors toward
fighting and general wickedness. The whole tribe met every summer
to have a tournament after their fashion, and at one of these
reunions the Devil arose and made a pacific speech. He took
occasion to enlarge on the evils of constant warfare, and suggested
that a general reconciliation take place and that they all live in
peace. The astonished fiends could not understand any such
unwarlike procedure from him, and with one accord,
suspecting treachery, made straight at the intended reformer, who,
of course, took to his heels. The fiends pressed him hard as he
sped over the plains of The Dalles, and as he neared the defile he
struck a Titanic blow with his tail on the pavement—and a
chasm opened up through the valley, and down rushed the waters of
the inland sea. But a battalion of the fiends still pursued him,
and again he smote with his tail and more strongly, and a vaster
cleft went up and down the valley, and a more terrific torrent
swept along. The leading fiends took the leap, but many fell into
the chasm—and still the Devil was sorely pursued. He had just
time to rap once more and with all the vigor of a despairing tail.
And this time he was safe. A third crevice, twice the width of the
second, split the rocks, riving a deeper cleft in the mountain that
held back the inland sea, making a gorge through the majestic chain
of the Cascades and opening a way for the torrent oceanward. It was
the crack of doom for the fiends. Essaying the leap, they fell far
short of the edge, where the Devil lay panting. Down they fell and
were swept away by the flood; so the whole race of fiends perished
from the face of the earth. But the Devil was in sorry case. His
tail was unutterably dislocated by his last blow; so, leaping
across the chasm he had made, he went home to rear his family
thoughtfully. There were no more antagonists; so, perhaps, after
all, tails were useless. Every year he brought his children to The
Dalles and told them the terrible history of his escape. And after
a time the fires of the Cascades burned away; the inland sea was
drained and its bed became a fair and habitable land, and still the
waters gushed through the narrow crevices roaring seaward. But the
Devil had one sorrow. All his children born before the catastrophe
were crabbed, unregenerate, stiff-tailed fiends. After that event
every new-born imp wore a flaccid, invertebrate, despondent
tail—the very last insignium of ignobility. So runs the
legend of The Dalles—a shining lesson to reformers.

Leaving The Dalles in the morning, a splendid panorama begins to
unfold on this lordly stream—”Achilles of rivers,” as
Winthrop called it. It is difficult to describe the charm of this
trip. Residents of the East pronounce it superior to the Hudson,
and travelers assert there is nothing like it in the Old World. It
is simply delicious to those escaped from the heat and dust of
their far-off homes to embark on this noble stream and steam
smoothly down past frowning headlands and “rocks with carven
imageries,” bluffs lined with pine trees, vivid green, past islands
and falls, and distant views of snowy peaks. There is no trip like
it on the coast, and for a river excursion there is not its equal
in the United States.

Twelve miles below “The Dalles” there is a lonely, rugged island
anchored amid stream. It is bare, save for a white monument which
rises from its rocky breast. No living thing, no vestige of
verdure, or tree, or shrub, appears. And Captain McNulty, as he
stood at the wheel and steadied the “Queen,” said:

“That monument? It’s Victor Trevet’s. Of course you never heard
of him, but he was a great man, all the same, here in Oregon in the
old times. Queer he was, and no mistake. Member of one of the early
legislatures; sort of a general peacemaker; everybody went to him
with their troubles, and when he said a lawsuit didn’t go, it
didn’t, and he always stuck up for the Indians, and always called
his own kind ‘dirty mean whites.’ I used to think that was put on,
and maybe it was, but anyhow that’s the way he used to talk. And a
hundred times he has said to me, ‘John, when I die, I want to be
buried on Memaloose Isle.’ That’s the ‘Isle of the Dead,’ which we
just passed, and has been from times away back the burial place of
the Chinook Indians. It’s just full of ’em. And I says to him,
‘Now, Vic., it’s fame your after.’ ‘John,’ says he, ‘I’ll tell you:
I’m not indifferent to glory; and there’s many a big gun laid away
in the cemetery that people forget in a year, and his grave’s never
visited after a few turns of the wheel; but if I rest on Memaloose
Isle, I’ll not be forgotten while people travel this river. And
another thing: You know, John, the dirty, mean whites stole the
Indian’s burial ground and built Portland there. Everyday the
papers have an account of Mr. Bigbug’s proposed palace, and how
Indian bones were turned up in the excavation. I won’t be buried
alongside any such dirty, mean thieves. And I’ll tell you further,
John, that it may be if I am laid away among the Indians, when the
Great Day comes I can slip in kind of easy. They ain’t going to
have any such a hard time as the dirty whites will have, and maybe
I won’t be noticed, and can just slide in quiet along with their
crowd.’

“And I tell you,” said the honest Captain, as he swung the
“Queen” around a sharp headland, and the monument and island
vanished, “he has got his wish. He don’t lay among the whites, and
there isn’t a day in summer when the name of Vic. Trevet ain’t
mentioned, either on yon train or on a boat, just as I am telling
it to you now. When he died in San Francisco five years ago, some
of his old friends had him brought back to ‘The Dalles,’ and one
lovely Sunday (being an off day) we buried him on Memaloose Isle,
and then we put up the monument. His earthly immortality is safe
and sure, for that stone will stand as long as the island stays.
She’s eight feet square at the base, built of the native rock right
on the island, then three feet of granite, then a ten-foot column.
It cost us $1,500, and Vic. is bricked up in a vault underneath.
Yes, sir, he’s there for sure till resurrection day. Queer idea?
Why, blame it all, if he thought he could get in along with the
Chinooks it’s all right, ain’t it? Don’t want a man to lose any
chances, do you?”

So much has been said of this mighty river that the preconceived
idea of the tourist is of a surging flood of unknown depth rushing
like a mountain torrent. The plain facts are that the Lower
Columbia is rather a placid stream, with a sluggish current, and
the channel shoals up to eight feet, then falling to twelve,
fifteen and seventeen feet, and suddenly dropping to 100 feet of
water and over. In the spring months it will rise from twenty-five
to forty feet, leaving driftwood high up among the trees on the
banks. The tide ebbs and flows at Portland from eighteen inches to
three feet, according to season, and this tidal influence is felt,
in high water, as far up as the Cascades. It is fifty miles of
glorious beauty from “The Dalles” to the Cascades. Here we leave
the steamer and take a narrow-gauge railway for six miles around
the magnificent rapids. At the foot of the Cascades we board a twin
boat, fitted up with equal taste and comfort.

Swinging once more down stream we pass hundreds of charming
spots, sixty miles of changeful beauty all the way to Portland;
Multnomah Falls, a filmy veil of water falling 720 feet into a
basin on the hillside and then 130 feet to the river; past the
rocky walls of Cape Horn, towering up a thousand feet; past that
curious freak of nature, Rooster Rock, and the palisades; past Fort
Vancouver, where Grant and Sheridan were once stationed, and just
at sunset leaving the Columbia, which by this time has broadened
into noble dimensions, we ascend the Willamette twelve miles to
Portland. And the memory of that day’s journey down the lordly
river will remain a gracious possession for years to come.

There is a quaint Indian legend
concerning the Cascades to the effect that away back in the
forgotten times there was a natural bridge across the
river—the water flowing under one arch. The Great Spirit had
made this bridge very beautiful for his red children; it was firm,
solid earth, and covered with trees and grass. The two great giants
who sat always glowering at each other from far away (Mount Adams
and Mount Hood) quarreled terribly once on a time, and the sky grew
black with their smoke and the earth trembled with their roaring.
And in their rage and fury they began to throw great stones and
huge mountain boulders at one another. This great battle lasted for
days, and when the smoke and the thunderings had passed away and
the sun shone peacefully again, the people came back once more. But
there was no bridge there. Pieces of rock made small islands above
the lost bridge, but below that the river fretted and shouted and
plunged over jagged and twisted boulders for miles down the stream,
throwing the spray high in air, madly spending its strength in
treacherous whirlpools and deep seductive currents—ever after
to be wrathful, complaining, dangerous. The stoutest warrior could
not live in that terrible torrent. So the beautiful bridge was
lost, destroyed in this Titan battle, but far down in the water
could be seen many of the stately trees which the Great Spirit
caused to remain there as a token of the bridge. These he turned to
stone, and they are there even unto this day. The theory of the
scientists, of course, runs counter to the pretty legend. Science
usually does destroy poetry, and they tell us that a part of the
mountain slid into the river, thus accounting for the remnant of a
forest down in the deep water. Moreover, pieces which have been
recovered show the wood to be live timber, and not petrified, as
the poetic fiction has it. The Columbia has not changed in the
centuries, but flows in the same channel here as when in the remote
ages the lava, overflowing, cut out a course and left its pathway
clear for all time. Below the lower Cascades a sea-coral formation
is found, grayish in color and not very pretty, but showing
conclusively its sea formation. Sandstone is also at times
uncovered, showing that this was made by sea deposit before the
lava flowed down upon it. This Oregon country is said to be the
largest lava district in the world. The basaltic formations in the
volcanic lands of Sicily and Italy are famous for their richness,
and Oregon holds out the same promise for agriculture. The lava
formation runs from Portland to Spokane Falls, as far north as
Tacoma, and south as far as Snake river—all basaltic
formation overlaid with an incomparably rich soil.

The trip from Portland by rail to “The Dalles,” if the tourist
should chance not to arrive in Portland by the Union Pacific line
from the east, will be found charming. It is eighty-eight miles
distant. Multnomah Falls is reached in thirty-two miles;
Bonneville, forty-one miles, at the foot of the Cascades; five
miles farther is the stupendous government lock now in process of
building around the rapids; Hood river, sixty-six miles, where
tourists leave for the ascent of Mount Hood. It is about forty
miles through a picturesque region to the base of the mountain.
Then from Hood river, an ice-cold stream, twenty-two miles into
“The Dalles,” where the steamer may be taken for the return trip.
In this eighty-eight miles from Portland to “The Dalles” there are
twelve miles of trestles and bridges. The railway follows the
Columbia’s brink the entire distance to within a few miles of the
city. The scenery is impressively grand; the bluffs, if they may be
so called, are bold promontories attaining majestic heights. One
timber shute, where the logs come whizzing into the river with the
velocity of a cannon-ball, is 3,328 feet long, and it is claimed a
log makes the trip in twenty seconds.

While the Upper Columbia
abounds in scenery of wild and picturesque beauty, the tourist must
by no means neglect a trip down the lower river from Portland to
Astoria and Ilwaco, and return. The facilities now offered by the
Union Pacific in its splendid fleet of steamers render this a
delightful excursion. On a clear day, one may enjoy at the junction
of the Willamette with the Columbia a very wonderful
sight—five mountain peaks are on view: St. Helens, Mt.
Jefferson, Mt. Adams, Mt. Hood, and Mt. Rainier. St. Helens, queen
of the Cascade Range, a fair and graceful cone. Exquisite mantling
snows sweep along her shoulders toward the bristling pines. Not far
from her base, the Columbia crashes through the mountains in a
magnificent chasm, and Mt. Hood, the vigorous prince of the range,
rises in a keen pyramid some 12,000 feet. Small villages and
landing-places line the shores, almost too numerous to mention.
There are, of the more important, St. Johns, St. Helens, Columbia
City, Kalama, Rainier, Westport, Cathlamet, Knappa, and Astoria at
the mouth, a busy place of 6,000 people. Salmon canneries there are
without number. It is about 98 miles by the chart from Portland to
Astoria. Across the bay is the pretty town of Ilwaco. Ft. Canby and
Cape Disappointment look across to Ft. Stevens and Point Adams.
From Astoria, one may drive eighteen miles to Clatsop Beach, famous
for its clams, crab, and trout, and Ben Holliday’s hotel. But the
fullest enjoyment is obtained by making a round trip, including a
lay-over at Ilwaco all night, and returning to Portland next day,
and sleeping on board the boat. A railway runs from the town to the
outside beach, a mile and a half distant. There is a drive
twenty-five miles long up this long beach to Shoal Water Bay, which
is beautiful beyond description. This district is the great supply
point for oysters, heavy shipments being made as far south as San
Francisco. Sea bathing, both here and at Clatsop Beach, is very
fine.

The boats of the Union Pacific Ry. on the Columbia leave nothing
to be desired. The “T.J. Potter,” a magnificent side-wheel steamer,
made her first trip in July, 1888. She is 235 feet long, 35 feet
beam, and 10 feet hold, with a capacity of 600 passengers. The
saloon and state-rooms are fitted with every convenience, and
handsomely decorated. The “Potter” was built entirely in Portland,
and the citizens naturally take great pride in the superb vessel.
In August, 1888, this steamer made the run from her berth at
Portland to the landing stage at Astoria in five hours and
thirty-one minutes. Then there are two night passenger boats from
Portland down, the “”R.R. Thompson” and the “S.G. Reed,” both
stern-wheelers of large size, spacious, roomy boats, well appointed
in every particular. The Thompson is 215 feet long, 38 feet beam,
and 1,158 tons measurement. In addition to these, there are two day
mail passenger and freight boats; they handle the way traffic; the
larger boats above mentioned make the run direct from Portland to
Astoria without any landings.

A mistaken idea has possessed many tourists that the Puget Sound
steamers start from Portland; they leave Tacoma for all points on
the Sound, and Tacoma is about 150 miles by rail from Portland.

One steamer sails every twelfth day from Portland to
Seattle.

One steamer per month leaves Portland for Alaska, but she
touches at Port Townsend before proceeding north.

One steamship leaves Tacoma for Alaska during the season of
1890, about every fifteen days, from June to September.

The Ocean steamers sail every fourth day from Portland to San
Francisco.

There are semi-weekly boats between Portland and Corvallis, and
tri-weekly between Portland and Salem.

On the Sound there are three boats each way, daily (except
Sunday), between Tacoma and Seattle; one boat each way, daily
(except Sunday), between Tacoma and Victoria; one boat each way,
daily (except Sunday), between Seattle and Whatcom, and one boat,
daily (except Sunday), between Whatcom and Seminahmoo.

Only one class of tickets is sold on the River and Sound boats;
on the Ocean steamers there are two classes: cabin and steerage.
The steerage passengers on the Ocean steamers have a dining-room
separate from the first-class passengers—on the lower
deck—and are given abundance of wholesome food, tea and
coffee.

On River and Sound boats, a ticket does not include meals and
berths, but it does on the ocean voyage, or the Alaska trip. The
usual price for meals is 50 cents, and they will be found uniformly
excellent. Breakfast, lunch, and a 6 o’clock dinner are served.

The price of berths on these boats runs from 50 cents for a
single berth to $3 per day for the bridal chamber.

No liquors of any kind are kept on sale on any River or Sound
steamer, but a small stock of the best brands will be found on the
Ocean steamers.

State-rooms on the River and Sound steamers are provided with
one double lower and one single upper berth.

Passengers can, if they choose, purchase the full accommodation
of a state-room.

The diagram of the Ocean steamers and the night boats to Astoria
can always be found at the Union Ticket Office of the Union Pacific
Railway in Portland, corner First and Oak Streets.

Tourists receive more than an ordinary amount of attention on
these steamers, more than is possible to pay them on a railway
train. The pursers will be found polite and obliging, always ready
to point out places of interest and render those little attentions
which go so far toward making travel pleasant.

On River and Sound boats, the forward cabin is generally the
smoking-room, the cabin amidships is used for a “Social Hall,” and
the “After Saloon” is always the ladies’ cabin.

All Union Pacific steamers in the Ocean service are heated with
steam and lighted with electricity; all have pianos and a
well-selected library. The beds on these boats are well-nigh
perfect, woven-wire springs and heavy mattresses. They are kept
scrupulously clean—the company is noted for that—and
the steerage is as neat as the main saloon.

One hundred and fifty pounds of baggage is allowed free on board
both boats and trains.

Boats leaving terminal points at any time between 10 p.m. and 7
a.m., arrange so that passengers can go on board after 7 p.m. and
retire to their state-rooms, thus enjoying an unbroken night’s
rest.

Sea-sickness is never met with on the Sound, and very rarely on
the voyage from Portland to San Francisco. On the Pacific, the ship
is never out of sight of land, and the sea is as smooth as a
mill-pond.

The heaviest swell encountered is going over the Columbia River
Bar. The ocean is uniformly placid during the summer months. The
trip, with its freedom from the dust, rush, and roar of a train,
and the inexorable restraint one always feels on the cars, is a
delightful one, and with larger comforts and more luxurious
surroundings, one enjoys the added pleasure of courteous and
thoughtful service from the various officers of the ship.

Taking the “Columbia” as a sample of the class of steamships in
the Union Pacific fleet, we notice that she is 334 feet long, 2,200
horse-power, nearly 3,000 tonnage, has 65 state-rooms, and can
accommodate 200 saloon and 200 steerage passengers. Steam heat and
electric light are used. In 1880 the first plant from Edison’s
factory was put on board the “Columbia,” at that time a great
curiosity, she being the first ship to use the incandescent
light.

Crater Lake is situate in the northwestern portion of Klamath
county, Oregon, and is best reached by leaving the Southern Pacific
Railroad at Medford, which is 328 miles south of Portland, and
about ninety miles from the lake, which can be reached by a very
good wagon road. The lake is about six miles wide by seven miles
long, but it is not its size which is its beauty or its attraction.
The surface of the water in the lake is 6,251 feet above the level
of the sea, and is surrounded by cliffs or walls from 1,000 to over
2,000 feet in height, and which are scantily covered with timber,
and which offer at but one point a way of reaching the water. The
depth of the water is very great, and it is very transparent, and
of a deep blue color. Toward the southwestern portion of the lake
is Wizard Island, 845 feet high, circular in shape, and slightly
covered with timber. In the top of this island is a depression, or
crater—the Witches’ Caldron—100 feet deep, and 475 feet
in diameter, which was evidently the last smoking chimney of a once
mighty volcano, and which is now covered within, as without, with
volcanic rocks. North of this island, and on the west side of the
lake, is Llao Rock, reaching to a height of 2,000 feet above the
water, and so perpendicular that a stone may be dropped from its
summit to the waters at its base, nearly one-half mile below.

So far below the surrounding mountains is the surface of the
waters in this lake, that the mountain breezes but rarely ripple
them; and looking from the surrounding wall, the sky and cliffs are
seen mirrored in the glassy surface, and it is with difficulty the
eye can distinguish the line where the cliffs leave off and their
reflected counterfeits begin.

Townships 27, 28, 29, 30, and 31, in Ranges 5 and 6 east of the
Willamette meridian, are asked to be set apart as the Oregon
National Park. This area contains Crater Lake and its approaches.
The citizens of Oregon unanimously petitioned the President for the
reservation of this park, and a bill in conformity with the
petition passed the United States Senate in February, 1888.

WASHINGTON

is 340 miles long by about 240 wide. The first actual settlement
by Americans was made at Tumwater in 1845. Prior to this, the
country was known only to trappers and fur traders. Territorial
government was organized in 1853, and Washington was admitted as a
State, November, 1889. The State is almost inexhaustibly rich in
coal and lumber, and has frequently been called the “Pennsylvania
of the Pacific Coast.” The precious metals are also found in
abundance in many districts. The yield of wheat is prodigious.
Apples, pears, apricots, plums, prunes, peaches, cherries, grapes,
and all berries flourish in the greatest profusion. Certain it is
that there is no other locality where trees bear so early and
surely as here, and where the fruit is of greater excellence, and
where there are so few drawbacks. At the Centennial Exposition,
Washington Territory fruit-tables were the wonder of visitors and
an attractive feature of the grand display. This Territory carried
off seventeen prizes in a competitive contest where thirty-three
States were represented.

It is a pleasant journey of 150 miles through the pine forests
from Portland to Tacoma. Any one of the splendid steamers of the
Union Pacific may be taken for a trip to Victoria. Leaving Tacoma
in the morning, we sail over that noble sheet of water, Puget
Sound. The hills on either side are darkly green, the Sound
widening slowly as we go. Seattle is reached in three hours, a busy
town of 35,000 people, full of vim, push, and energy. Twenty
million dollars’ worth of property went up in flame and smoke in
Seattle’s great fire of June 6, 1889. The ashes were scarcely cold
when her enthusiastic citizens began to build anew, better,
stronger, and more beautiful than before. A city of brick, stone,
and iron has arisen, monumental evidence of the energy, pluck, and
perseverance of the people, and of their fervent faith in the
future of Seattle. Then Port Townsend, with its beautiful harbor
and gently sloping bluffs, “the city of destiny,” beyond all doubt,
of any of the towns on the Sound. Favored by nature in many ways,
Townsend has the finest roadstead and the best anchorage ground in
these waters, and this must tell in the end, when advantages for
sea trade are considered. Victoria, B.C., is reached in the
evening, and we sleep that night in Her Majesty’s dominions. The
next day may be spent very pleasantly in driving and walking about
the city, a handsome town of 14,000 people.

A thorough system of macadamized roads radiates from Victoria,
furnishing about 100 miles of beautiful drives. Many of these
drives are lined with very handsome suburban residences, surrounded
with lawns and parks. Esquimalt, near Victoria, has a fine harbor.
This is the British naval station where several iron-clads are
usually stationed. There is also an extensive dry-dock, hewn out of
the solid rock, capacious enough to receive large vessels.

In the evening after dinner, one can return to the steamer and
take possession of a stateroom, for the boat leaves at four in the
morning. When breakfast time comes we are well on our return trip,
and moving past Port Townsend again. The majestic straits of Fuca,
through which we have passed, are well worth a visit; it is a taste
of being at sea without any discomfort, for the water is without a
ripple. As we steam homeward there is a vision which has been
described for all time by a master hand. “One becomes aware of a
vast, white shadow in the water. It is a giant mountain dome of
snow in the depths of tranquil blue. The smoky haze of an Oregon
August hid all the length of its lesser ridges and left this mighty
summit based upon uplifting dimness. Only its splendid snows were
visible high in the unearthly regions of clear, noonday sky. Kingly
and alone stood this majesty without any visible comrade, though
far to the north and south there were isolated sovereigns. This
regal gem the Christians have dubbed Mount Rainier, but more
melodious is its Indian name, ‘Tacoma.'”

Theodore Winthrop, in his own brilliant way, tells a quaint
legend of Tacoma, as related to him by a frowsy Siwash at
Nisqually. “Tamanous,” among the native Indians of this section, is
a vague and half-personified type of the unknown and mysterious
forces of Nature. There is the one all-pervading Tamanous, but
there are a thousand emanations, each one a tamanous with a small
“t.” Each Indian has his special tamanous, who thus becomes “the
guide, philosopher, and friend” of every Siwash. The tamanous, or
totem, types himself as a salmon, a beaver, an elk, a canoe, a
fir-tree, and so on indefinitely. In some of its features this
legend resembles strongly the immortal story of Rip Van Winkle; it
may prove interesting as a study in folk-lore.

“Avarice, O, Boston tyee!” quoth the Siwash, studying me with
dusky eyes, “is a mighty passion. Know you that our first
circulating medium was shells, a small perforated shell not unlike
a very opaque quill toothpick, tapering from the middle, and cut
square at both ends. We string it in many strands and hang it
around the neck of one we love—namely, each man his own neck.
And with this we buy what our hearts desire. Hiaqua, we call it,
and he who has most hiaqua is wisest and best of all the dwellers
on the Sound.

“Now, in old times there dwelt here an old man, a mighty hunter
and fisherman. And he worshipped hiaqua. And always this old man
thought deeply and communed with his wisdom, and while he waited
for elk or salmon he took advice within himself from his
demon—he talked with tamanous. And always his question was,
‘How may I put hiaqua in my purse?’ But never had Tamanous revealed
to him the secret. There loomed Tacoma, so white and glittering
that it seemed to stare at him very terribly and mockingly, and to
know of his shameful avarice, and how it led him to take from
starving women their cherished lip and nose jewels of hiaqua, and
give them in return tough scraps of dried elk-meat and salmon. His
own peculiar tamanous was the elk. One day he was hunting on the
sides of Tacoma, and in that serene silence his tamanous began to
talk to his soul. ‘Listen!’ said tamanous—and then the great
secret of untold wealth was revealed to him. He went home and made
his preparations, told his old, ill-treated squaw he was going for
a long hunt, and started off at eventide. The next night he camped
just below the snows of Tacoma, but sunrise and he struck the
summit together, for there, tamanous had revealed to him, was
hiaqua—hiaqua that should make him the greatest and richest
of his tribe. He looked down and saw a hollow covered with snow,
save at the centre, where a black lake lay deep in a well of purple
rock, and at one end of the lake were three large stones or
monuments. Down into the crater sprang the miser, and the morning
sunshine followed him. He found the first stone shaped like a
salmon head; the second like a kamas root, and the third, to his
great joy, was the carven image of an elk’s head. This was his own
tamanous, and right joyous was he at the omen, so taking his
elk-horn pick he began to dig right sturdily at the foot of the
monument. At the sound of the very first blow he made, thirteen
gigantic otters came out of the black lake and, sitting in a
circle, watched him. And at every thirteenth blow they tapped the
ground with their tails in concert The miser heeded them not, but
labored lustily for hours. At last, overturning a thin scale of
rock, he found a square cavity filled to the brim with hiaqua.

“He was a millionaire.

“The otters retired to a respectful distance, recognizing him as
a favorite of Tamanous.

“He reveled in the treasure, exulting. Deep as he could plunge
his arm, there was still more hiaqua below. It was strung upon elk
sinews, fifty shells on a string. But he saw the noon was passed,
so he prepared to depart. He loaded himself with countless strings
of hiaqua, by fifties and hundreds, so that he could scarcely
stagger along. Not a string did he hang on the tamanous of the elk,
or the salmon, or the kamas—not one—but turned eagerly
toward his long descent. At once all the otters plunged back into
the lake and began to beat the waters with their tails; a thick,
black mist began to rise threateningly. Terrible are the storms in
the mountains—and Tamanous was in this one. Instantly the
fierce whirlwind overtook the miser. He was thrown down and flung
over icy banks, but he clung to his precious burden. Utter night
was around him, and in every crash and thunder of the gale was a
growing undertone which he well knew to be the voice of Tamanous.
Floating upon this undertone were sharper tamanous voices, shouting
and screaming, always sneeringly, ‘Ha, ha, hiaqua!—ha, ha,
ha!’ Whenever the miser attempted to continue his descent the
whirlwind caught him and tossed him hither and thither, flinging
him into a pinching crevice, burying him to the eyes in a snow
drift, throwing him on jagged boulders, or lacerating him on sharp
lava jaws. But he held fast to his hiaqua. The blackness grew ever
deeper and more crowded with perdition; the din more impish,
demoniac, and devilish; the laughter more appalling; and the miser
more and more exhausted with vain buffeting. He at last thought to
propitiate exasperated Tamanous, and threw away a string of hiaqua.
But the storm was renewed blacker, louder, crueler than before.
String by string he parted with his treasure, until at the last,
sorely wounded, terrified, and weak, with a despairing cry, he cast
from him the last vestige of wealth, and sank down insensible.

“It seemed a long slumber to him, but at last he woke. He was
upon the very spot whence he started at morning. He felt hungry,
and made a hearty breakfast of the chestnut-like bulbs of the kamas
root, and took a smoke. Reflecting on the events of yesterday, he
became aware of an odd change in his condition. He was not bruised
and wounded, as he expected, but very stiff only, and his joints
creaked like the creak of a lazy paddle on the rim of a canoe. His
hair was matted and reached a yard down his back. ‘Tamanous,’
thought the old man. But chiefly he was conscious of a mental
change. He was calm and content. Hiaqua and wealth seemed to have
lost their charm for him. Tacoma, shining like gold and silver and
precious stones of gayest lustre, seemed a benign comrade and
friend. All the outer world was cheerful, and he thought he had
never wakened to a fresher morning. He rose and started on his
downward way, but the woods seemed strangely transformed since
yesterday; just before sunset he came to the prairie where his
lodge used to be; he saw an old squaw near the door crooning a
song; she was decked with many strings of hiaqua and costly beads.
It was his wife; and she told him he had been gone many, many
years—she could not tell how many; that she had remained
faithful and constant to him, and distracted her mind from the
bitterness of sorrow by trading in kamas and magic herbs, and had
thus acquired a genteel competence. But little cared the sage for
such things; he, was rejoiced to be at home and at peace, and near
his own early gains of hiaqua and treasure buried in a place of
security. He imparted whatever he possessed—material
treasures or stores of wisdom and experience—freely to all
the land. Every dweller came to him for advice how to spear the
salmon, chase the elk, or propitiate Tamanous. He became the great
medicine man of the Siwashes and a benefactor to his tribe and
race. Within a year after he came down from his long nap on the
side of Tacoma, a child, my father, was born to him. The sage lived
many years, revered and beloved, and on his death-bed told this
history to my father as a lesson and a warning. My father dying,
told it to me. But I, alas! have no son; I grow old, and lest this
wisdom perish from the earth, and Tamanous be again obliged to
interpose against avarice, I tell the tale to thee, O Boston tyee.
Mayst thou and thy nation not disdain this lesson of an earlier
age, but profit by it and be wise!”

So far the Siwash recounted his legend without the palisades of
Fort Nisqually, and motioning, in expressive pantomime, at the
close, that he was dry with big talk and would gladly “wet his
whistle.”

The town of Tacoma contains about 15,000 inhabitants, and is in
a highly prosperous condition. From here one may start on the grand
Alaskan tour, winding up through all the wonders of sound and
strait, bay and ocean, to the far North summerland—a trip of
most entrancing interest. The return from Tacoma to Portland may be
made by either rail or boat.

So much has already been said in preceding pages about Puget
Sound that it would seem the subject might be somewhat overdone.
But it still remains to be said that justice can never be done to
the scenic glories of this beautiful inland sea. The views from
different points, and from almost every point on the Sound, are of
sublime grandeur. On the east are the Cascade Mountains, ranging
from 5,000 to 14,444 feet in height, Mount Rainier for Tacoma, (as
it is also called) being of the latter altitude, and only third in
height of the mountains of the United States. On the west are the
Olympic Mountains, the highest peaks of which reach up to 8,000
feet. Both ranges, brilliantly snow-crowned, are within view at the
same time from various points, and the scenery in its entirety,
with its continual changefulness and features of sublimity, can not
be excelled. Strangers and travelers who have visited every part of
the world never leave the deck of the steamers while going through
the waters of the Sound country. In noting a single feature, Mount
Rainier, Senator George F. Edmunds wrote as follows: “I have been
through the Swiss mountains, and am compelled to own that there is
no comparison between the finest effects exhibited there and what
is seen in approaching this grand and isolated mountain. I would be
willing to go 500 miles again to see that scene. The Continent is
yet in ignorance of what will be one of the grandest show places,
as well as sanitariums. If Switzerland is rightly called the
play-ground of Europe, I am satisfied that around the base of Mt.
Rainier will become a prominent place of resort, not for America
only, but for the world besides, with thousands of sites for
building purposes that are nowhere excelled for the grandeur of the
view that can be obtained from them, with topographical features
that would make the most perfect system of drainage both possible
and easy, and with a most agreeable and health-giving climate.”

A more enthusiastic writer says: “Puget Sound scenery is the
grandest scenery in the world. One has here in combination the
sublimity of Switzerland, the picturesqueness of the Rhine, the
rugged beauty of Norway, the breezy variety of the Thousand Islands
of the St. Lawrence, or the Hebrides of the North Sea, the soft,
rich-toned skies of Italy, the pastoral landscape of England, with
velvet meadows and magnificent groves, massed with floral bloom,
and the blending tints and bold color of the New England Indian
summer. Features with which nothing within the vision of another
city can be placed in comparison are the Olympic range of mountains
in front of Seattle, and the sublime snow peaks of the Rainier,
Baker, Adams, and St. Helens, with their glaciers and robes of
eternal white, and the great falls of the Snoqualmie, 280 feet
high, near by.”

The geography and topography of this sheet are alone a wonder
and a study. Glance upon the map. The elements of earth and water
seem to have struggled for dominion one over the other. The Strait
of Juan de Fuca and the Gulf of Georgia to the south narrow into
Admiralty Inlet; the inlet penetrates the very heart of the
Territory, cutting the land into most grotesque shapes, circling
and twisting into a hundred minor inlets, into which flow a hundred
rivers, fed in their turn by myriads of smaller creeks and
bayous—a veritable network of lakes, streams, peninsulas, and
islands which, with the mountain ranges backing the landscapes on
either hand, can not fail to be picturesque in the extreme. Here on
the placid bosom of this inland sea, the pleasure seeker can enjoy
all the delights and exhilarating influences of ocean travel
without its inconveniences. No sea sickness, no proneness to
reflect on “to be or not to be,” but, amid the bracing breezes, the
steady, easy glide of the commodious steamer over pleasant waters,
takes him through scenes as fair as the poet’s brightest dreams.
This “Mediterranean of the Pacific” throughout its length and
breadth is adorned with heavily-wooded and fantastically-formed
islands. The giant firs are the tallest and straightest in the
world. Here the “Great Eastern” came for her masts, and here
thousands of ships obtain their spars yearly.

To repeat, the scenery is indeed something unsurpassed. A ride
over these placid waters, in and out, around rocky headlands, among
woody mountains, along beautiful beaches and graceful tongues of
velvety meadows—all ‘neath the shadows of towering, snow-clad
peaks, is a delight worth days of travel to experience. It
enraptures the artist and enthuses even ordinarily prosy folks.
There is no single feature wanting to make of such places as
Tacoma, Seattle, and Port Townsend, the most delightful and
agreeable watering places in the world. Surrounded by magnificent
and picturesque scenery, with beautiful drives and lovely bays for
yachting purposes, with splendid fishing and sport of every
description to be had, with a climate that would charm a
misanthrope, why should they not become the favorite resorts on the
Great West Coast? These facts led to the building of the
magnificent Hotel Tacoma, at a cost of a quarter of a million
dollars. Other such caravansaries will follow, and in time Puget
Sound will be famous the world over for its incomparable
attractions for the health and pleasure seeker.

The average traveler has but a faint idea of the wonderful
resources of this grand empire. Puget Sound has about 1,800 miles
of shore line, and all along this long stretch is one vast and
almost unbroken forest of enormous trees. The forests are so vast
that, although the saw-mills have been ripping 500,000,000 feet of
lumber out of them every year for the past ten years, the spaces
made by these inroads seem no more than garden patches. An official
estimate places the amount of standing timber in that area at
500,000,000,000 feet, or a thousand years’ supply, even at the
enormous rate the timber is now being felled and sawed.

In the vicinity of Olympia, the capital of Washington, are a
number of popular resorts for sportsmen and campers—beautiful
lakes filled with voracious trout, and streams alive with the
speckled mountain beauties. The forests abound in bear and deer,
while grouse, pheasants, quail, and water-fowl afford fine sport to
the hunter of small game.

The recent extensions of the Union Pacific System have aided in
the most important way the development of the richest and most
fertile lands of Eastern Washington. The great plains of the Upper
Columbia, stretching from the river away to the far north, are
incomparably rich, the soil of great depth and wondrous fertility,
rainless harvests, and a luxuriance of farm and garden produce
which is almost tropical in its wealth. This favored region has
been for years known as the

and is reached from Portland via Pendleton, on the main line of
the Union Pacific Ry. From Pendleton to Spokane Falls on the north
the soil is rich beyond belief; a black, loamy deposit so deep that
it seems well-nigh inexhaustible. This heavy soil predominates in
the valleys, and while the uplands are not so rich, still immense
crops of wheat are raised. For hundreds of miles on this new
division of the Union Pacific the country is a perfect garden land
of wheat and fruit, and these farms are often of mammoth
proportions. Here are 13,000,000 acres of land possessing all the
requirements and advantages of climate and soil for the making of
one vast wheat-field. The enormous yield of 7,000,000 bushels of
wheat has been harvested in one valley.

The authentic figures of the crop yield in this splendid country
seem almost incredible. Fifty thousand bushels of wheat have been
raised on 1,000 acres of land. As low as 35 bushels and as high as
74¼ bushels of wheat to the acre have been harvested in this
section. The average covered seems to be from 47 to 55 bushels per
acre, and no fertilizers of any sort being required. The berry in
its full maturity is very solid, weighing from 65 to 69 pounds per
bushel, this being from five to nine pounds over standard weight.
While wheat is the staple product, oats are also grown, the yield
being very heavy. Rye, barley, and flax are also successfully
cultivated. Clover, bunch-grass, and alfalfa grow finely.

In the growing of fruits and vegetables this grand empire of
Eastern Washington is quite unsurpassed. At one of the recent
agricultural fairs a farmer exhibited 109 varieties of fruits,
vegetables, and cereals. These included the best qualities of
Yellow Nansemond sweet potatoes, mammoth melons of all varieties,
eggplant, sorghum and syrup cane, broom-corn, tobacco, grapes,
cotton, peanuts, and many other things, some of which do not attain
to so high a degree of excellence elsewhere farther north than the
Carolinas. Peaches, apples, and prunes of superior quality
delighted the eye. Peaches had been marketed continuously, from,
the same orchards, from the 15th of July to the 15th of October.
There were hanging in the pavilion diplomas awarded at the New
Orleans Exposition to citizens in this valley for exhibits of the
best qualities and greatest varieties of corn, wheat, oats, barley,
and hops.

The advantage to the farmer of rainless harvesting months is
obvious. The wheat is all harvested by headers, leaving the straw
on the ground for its enrichment. Thus binding, hauling, and
sacking are largely dispensed with. The grain, when threshed, is
piled on the ground in jute sacks, saving the expense of granaries
and hauling to and from them. These jute sacks cost for each bushel
of grain about 3 cents, which is far less than farmers elsewhere
are subjected to in hauling their grain to and from granaries and
through a system of elevators until it reaches shipboard.

Here, as well as in Western Washington, most vegetables grow to
an enormous size, and are of superior quality when compared with
the same varieties grown in the East. Those kinds that require much
heat, as melons, tobacco, peppers, egg-plants, etc., grow to great
perfection. The root crops—beets, carrots, parsnips,
potatoes, turnips, etc.—yield prodigiously on the fertile
bottom-land soils, without much care besides ordinary cultivation.
The table beet soon gets too large for the dinner-pot. It is
nothing unusual for a garden beet to weigh ten pounds, and they
often grow to eighteen or twenty pounds’ weight. Mangel wurzel, the
stock beet, sometimes grows to forty and fifty pounds’ weight, if
given room and proper cultivation. They may easily be made to
produce twenty-five tons per acre on good soil. All other
vegetables, such as parsnips, carrots, peas, beans, tomatoes,
onions, cabbages, celery, and cauliflower, are perfectly at home on
every farm of Eastern Washington. Market gardening is becoming
quite an important pursuit, and holds out particularly high
inducements to the farmer, because of the superb market now
afforded by the non-producing mineral and timber regions, easily
accessible in this and adjacent Territories.

There are over 2,000 square miles of arable land in this
magnificent region, and there has never been a crop failure since
its settlement. Outside of Government lands prices range at from $4
to $10 per acre for unimproved, and from $12 to $20 for improved
lands.

Along
the line of Union Pacific in this grand new empire will be found
many energetic, thriving young towns, all possessing those social
and educational facilities which are now a part of every Western
village. Pendleton, on the main line, is a wide-awake, bustling
young city, situated in a fine agricultural district. Walla Walla,
Athena, Weston, Waitsburg, Dayton, Pullman, Garfield, Latah, Tekoa,
Colfax, Moscow, Farmington, and Rockford are all thriving towns,
and are already good distributing centers. The last-named town
enjoys the advantage of being in the center of a fine lumber
district, and within a circuit of five miles from Rockford there
are ten saw-mills, besides an inexhaustible supply of mica.
Crossing the border into Idaho, rich silver and lead mines are
found along the Coeur d’Alene River.

Rockford is twenty-four miles from Spokane Falls, and has about
1,000 population; its elevation is 2,440 feet. Four miles distant
is the boundary of the Coeur d’Alene Reservation, a lovely tract,
thirty by seventy miles in extent, embracing beautiful Coeur
d’Alene Lake and the three rivers, St. Joseph, St. Marys, and Coeur
d’Alene, which empty into it. There about 250 Indians on this
reservation, and they enjoy the proud distinction of being the only
tribe who refuse Government aid. They have been offered the usual
rations, but preferred to remain independent. They live in houses,
farm quite extensively, and use all kinds of improved farm
machinery; many of them are quite wealthy. The lake is one of the
prettiest sheets of water on the continent; its waters are full of
salmon, and in the heavy pine woods are many varieties of game,
from quail to grizzly bear and elk. The town of Rockford will in
the near future assume importance as a tourist point, both from its
own healthy and picturesque location, and its nearness to Coeur
d’Alene Lake. A Government Commission is now at work on a
settlement with the Indians, whereby the whole or a part of this
noble domain will be thrown open to the public. The peculiar
attractions of Coeur d’Alene must in a short time render it a much
sought for resort.

is one of those miracles possible only in the alert, aggressive
West. When Mr. Hayes was inaugurated it was a blank wilderness. Not
a single civilized being lived within a hundred miles of it. One
day in 1878 a white man came along in a “bull team,” saw the wild
rapids and the mighty falls of the Spokane River, reflected on the
history of St. Paul and Minneapolis with their little Falls of St.
Anthony, looked at the tide of immigration just turning toward the
farther Northwest, and concluded he would sit right down where he
was and wait for a city to grow around him. This far-sighted
pioneer is still living within earshot of those rumbling falls, and
they make a cheerful music for him. The city is there with him,
22,000 people, and he can draw a check to-day good for $1,000,000.
For several years his eyes fell on nothing but gravel-beds and
foamy waters. Now, as he looks around, he sees mills and factories,
railroad lines to the north, south, east, and west, churches,
theatres, school-houses, costly dwellings and stores, paved
streets, and all that makes living easy and comfortable. The
greater part of this has come within his vision since 1883. But
even then there was quite a village. After this pioneer had spent a
lonely year or two on his homestead, two other men came along. They
were friends, who, upon an outing, had chanced to meet. They were
captivated by the waterfall, and by what the pioneer told them of
the fine fanning lands in the adjacent country, and they offered
each to take a third of his holding. Then they began to advertise,
and to place adventurous farmers on homestead claims. They were
wise in their day and generation, and they worked harder to fill
the country with grain-producers than to sell real estate around
the falls. They soon had their reward. The merchants were quickly
provided with store-houses, rental values were kept low, every
inducement was offered that could possibly stimulate building
activity, and in three years the farming country was made to
perceive that Spokane was its natural point of entry and of
shipment. The turbulent waters of the Spokane River, a clear and
beautiful mountain stream, were caught above the falls, and
directed wherever the factories and mills that had been established
above them required their services. Four large flouring-mills
quickly took advantage of the rich opportunity growing out of this
unique situation.

From two enormous agricultural areas they are enabled to draw
their supplies of grain, flour, therefore, being manufactured for
the farmers more cheaply at Spokane: than anywhere else. This
circumstance alone exercised a large influence in giving the new
town a hold upon the country districts. These constitute more than
a region—they are really a grand division of the State, and
form what is known as the Great Plain of the Columbia River.

have reached a high and profitable state of development. These
mines extend over a comparatively limited area. They are close
together, and their ores, producing gold, silver, and lead, are all
similar. Their output for the last three years has been quite
remarkable, and has placed the Coeur d’Alene district among the
foremost lead-producing regions in the country. Gold, associated
with iron, and treated by the free-milling process, is largely
found in the northern part of the district, but the greatest amount
of tonnage is derived from the southern country, where the Galena
silver mines, a dozen or more in number, have been discovered. That
minerals in large quantity existed in this country has been known
for years. But the want of railroad facilities for a long while
prevented any serious effort to get at them. The matter of
transportation is now laid at rest, and within the last three years
$1,000,000 has been spent in development. The returns have already
more than justified the investment.

Tributary to Spokane, and reached by the various railroads now
in operation, are five other mining districts, at Colville,
Okanagan, Kootenai, Metaline, and Pend d’Oreille. They are in
various stages of development, but their wealth and availability
have been clearly ascertained. Spokane’s population, in a degree
greater than that of most all these new cities, consists of young
men and young women from the New England and Middle States. They
have enjoyed a remarkable and wholly uninterrupted period of
prosperity. Some of them have grown quickly and immensely rich from
real estate operations, but the great majority have yet to realize
on their investments because of the large sacrifices they have made
in building up the city. They are to-day in an admirable position.
As they have made money they have spent it; spent it in street
railroads, in the laying out of drives, in the building of
comfortable houses, in the establishment of electrical plants, and
in a large number of local improvements, every one of which has
borne its part in making the city attractive.

It has been well said of Spokane Falls, that “it was another
fire-devastated city that did not seem to know it was hurt.”

If Washington can stand the loss of millions of dollars in its
four great fires of the year, at Cheney, Ellensburg, Seattle, and
Spokane, it is the strongest evidence that its recuperative powers
have solid backing. It does seem to stand the loss, and actually
thrive under it.

The great fire at Spokane Falls on the 4th of August, 1889,
burned most of the business portion of the city. Four hundred and
fifty houses of brick, stone, and wood were destroyed, entailing a
loss, according to the computation of the local agent of R.G. Dun
& Co., of about $4,500,000.

The insurance in the burned district amounted to $2,600,000.

No people were ever in better condition to meet disaster, and
none ever met it with braver hearts or with quicker and more
resolute determination to survive the blow.

The city was in the midst of a period of marvelous prosperity.
Its population was increasing rapidly, many fine buildings were in
process of construction, its trade was extending over a vast region
of country which was being penetrated by new railroads centering
within its limits, and there were flowing to it the rich fruits of
half a dozen prosperous mining districts.

Its working people were all employed at good wages, and money
was abundant with all classes.

Hardly had the sun of the day following the fire risen upon the
scene of smoking desolation, when preparations began for
rebuilding. It was felt at once that the city would be rebuilt more
substantially and more handsomely than before.

The rebuilding of Spokane commenced on a very extensive scale;
the city will be entirely restored within twelve months, and far
more attractively than ever before. The class of buildings erected
are of a very superior character. The new Opera House has been
modeled after the Broadway Theatre, New York; the new Hotel
Spokane, a structure creditable not only to the city, but to the
entire Pacific Northwest; five National Bank buildings, at a cost
of $100,000 each; upon the burned district have arisen buildings
solid in substance, and beautiful architecturally, varying from
five to seven stories in height, and costing all the way from
$60,000 to $300,000. This sturdy young giant of the North arises
from her ashes stronger, more attractive, more substantial, than
before. And there is abundant reason for solid faith in the future
of Spokane Falls.

It is the metropolis of a region 200,000 square miles in extent,
including 50,000 square miles of Washington, or all that portion
east of the Cascade Mountains, more than half of Idaho, the
northern and eastern portions of Oregon, a large part of Montana,
and as much of British Columbia as would make a State as large as
New York.

It is the distributing point for the Coeur d’Alene, the
Colville, the Kootenai, and the Okanagan mining districts, all of
which are in a prosperous condition, and all of which are yielding
rich and growing tributes of trade.

It has adjacent to it the finest wheat-growing country in the
world, producing from 30 to 60 bushels per acre.

It has adjacent to it a country equally rich in the production
of fruits and vegetables.

It has adjacent to it the finest meadow lands between the
Cascade and Rocky Mountains.

It has adjacent to it extensive grazing lands, on which are
hundreds of thousands of cattle, sheep, and horses.

It has, adjacent to it, on Lakes Pend d’Oreille and Coeur
d’Alene, inexhaustible quantities of white pine, yellow pine, cedar
and tamarack, the manufacturing of which into lumber is one of the
important industries of the city, and a source of great future
income.

It has a power in the falls of the Spokane River second to none
in the United States, and capable of supplying construction room
and power for 300 different mills and manufactories. The entire
electric lighting plant of the city, the cable railway system, the
electric railway system, the machinery for the city water works,
and all the mills and factories of the city—the amount of
wheat which was last year ground into flour exceeding 20,000
tons—are now operated by the power from the falls. One
company alone, the Washington Water Power Company, having a capital
of $1,000,000, is now spending upward of $300,000 in the
construction of flumes and other improvements for the accommodation
of new mills and factories.

Most fortunately for the city, all the milling properties and
improvements on the falls and along the river were saved from the
fire.

The city has a water-works system which cost nearly half a
million dollars, and which is capable of supplying 12,000,000
gallons daily, or as much as the supply of Minneapolis when it had
a population of 100,000, or as much as the present supply of Denver
with a population of 120,000, and more than the City of Portland,
Oregon, with a population of 60,000.

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.

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.

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.

There are many pleasant homes in Juneau, and some of its society
people are charming indeed. The business houses carry some large
stocks of goods, and outfitting for the interior mines in the Yukon
country is all done at this place. There are two weekly papers, one
the Mining Record, an eight-page, bright, newsy paper which
deserves a liberal support.

One of the most novel and grotesque features of the entire trip
was a dance given by the Indians at

A “POTLATCH,”

a term applied to any assemblage of good cheer, although in its
primary sense it means a gift. A potlatch is given at the outset,
or during the progress of some important event, such as the
building of a new house, confirming of a sub-chief, or celebrating
any good fortune, either of peace or war. In this instance, a
sub-chief was building a new house, and the frame work was inclosed
in rough boards with no floor laid. There is never but one entrance
to an Indian hut. This is in front, and elevated several feet from
the ground, so that you must go down from the door-sill inside as
well as out. No windows were yet in the building, and it was really
in a crude state. These grand festivities last five days, and this
was the second day of merry-making.

There are two tribes at Juneau, located at each extreme of the
town. The water was black with canoes coming to the feast and
dance, bringing gifts to the tyhee, who, in return, gives them
gifts according to their wealth, and a feast of boiled rice and
raisins and dog-meat. The richest men of the tribe dressed, in the
rear of the building, in the wildest and most fantastic garbs, some
in skins of wild animals. There was a full panoply of blankets,
feathers, guns, swords, knives, and, as a last resort, an old broom
was covered with a scarlet case. Jingling pendant horns added to
their usual order, and the savage faces were painted with red and
black in hideous lines. Anything their minds could shape was rigged
for a head-dress, and finally, when all was ready, they ran with
fiendish yells toward the beach, some twenty yards, and there
behind a canvas facing the water they began their strange
dance.

Only one squaw was with them, and she was the wife of the tyhee
(chief) giving the feast. The medicine man had a large bird with
white breast, called the loon. While dancing he picked the white
feathers and scattered them on the heads of the others. The other
squaws were sitting on the ground in long rows in front of the
canoes reaching to the water’s edge, about 200 feet below.

Their music was a wild shout or croon by all the tribe, and the
dancing is a movement in any irregular way, or a swaying motion
given to the time given by the voices, and they only advanced a few
inches in an hour’s time.

The tribe approaching in canoes had their representative men
dressed in the same styles, only gayer, if possible. When the
canoes glided onto the beach, four abreast, it was the signal to
drop the canvas hiding the host and party, and advance a little
distance to meet them. Then they broke ranks and made way for the
visitors to approach the house with their gifts of blankets or
other valuables for the tyhee. Most of the Indians convert their
riches into blankets. These nations, seen by the tourist in an
ordinary trip to Alaska, seem very much the same in all points
visited. None of them are poor, all have some money, and many
have

WEALTH COUNTED BY THOUSANDS.

To be sure, some of them are in a measure Christianized, but the
odors arising from the homes of the best of them are such as a
civilized nose never scented before. Rancid grease, dried fish,
pelts, decaying animals, and human filth made the strongest perfume
known to the commercial or social world.

The squaws, if they were in mourning or in love, would have
their faces painted black with oil and tar. Then again, a great
many wear a wooden or ivory pin thrust through the lip just below
the fleshy part. It is worn for ornament, the same as ear-rings or
nose-rings, and is called a labret. The missionary work done among
them is a commendable one, but it seems a hopeless task. Their
houses are always built with one object in view, to be able to tie
the canoe to the front door. A long row of huts just above
high-tide line can always be safely called a rancherie in that
country. Their food is brought by the tide to their very doors, and
the timbered mountains abound in wild game, and offer ample fuel
for the cutting.

Chilcot, or Pyramid Harbor, is about twelve hours run from
Juneau, and it is here the famous Chilcot blanket is made from the
goat’s wool, woven by hand, and dyed by native dyes, and worked
from grotesque patterns. Here, also, are two of the largest salmon
canneries in Alaska, and here, indeed, were we in the

LAND OF THE MIDNIGHT SUN.

The hours passed quickly by as the supposed night wore away. At
midnight the twilight was so bright that one could read a newspaper
easily. Then the moon shone in the clear sky with all regal
splendor until 3.30 in the morning, when old Sol again put in his
claims for admission. He lifted his golden head above the snowy
peaks, and spirited away the uncertain light of unfolding dawn by
drawing the curtains of the purpling east, and sending floods of
radiance upon the entire world. It was a sight never to be
forgotten, if seen but once in a lifetime.

Onward once again when the tide was in, and our next awakening
was on the grand glacier fields. The greatest sight of the entire
trip, or of any other in America, now opened out before many eager
eyes. For several days, icebergs had been seen sailing along on the
smooth surface from the great glaciers, and speeding to the
southern seas like phantom ships. As the ship neared the bay, these
huge bergs increased in size and number, with such grotesque and
weird shapes, that the mind is absorbed in shaping turrets, ghosts,
goblins, and the like, each moment developing more and more of
things unearthly, until the heart and eyes seem bursting with the
strain, when suddenly a great roar, like the shock of an explosion
of giant powder, turns the eyes to the parent glacier to see the
birth of these unnatural forms. They break from the icy wall with a
stupendous crash, and fall into the water with such force as to
send our great ship careening on her side when the swell from the
disturbed waters strikes her.

The Muir glacier is the one that occupies the most attention, as
it is the most accessible to tourists. It rises to a perpendicular
height of 350 feet, and stretches across the entire head of the
Glacier Bay, which is estimated from three to five miles in width.
The Muir and Davidson glaciers are two arms of that great Ice field
extending more than 400 miles in length, covering more area

THAN ALL SWITZERLAND,

and any one of the fifteen subdivisions of the glacial stream is
as large as the Great Rhone glacier.

Underlying this great ice field is that glacial river which
bears these mountains of ice on its bosom to the ocean. With a roar
like distant artillery, or an approaching thunder-storm, the
advancing walls of this great monster split and fall into the
watery deep, which has been sounded to a depth of some 800 feet
without finding anchor.

The glacial wall is a rugged, uneven mass, with clefts and
crevices, towering pinnacles and domes, higher than Bunker Hill
monument, cutting the air at all angles, and with a stupendous
crash sections break off from any portion without warning and sink
far out of sight. Scarcely two minutes elapse without a portion
falling from some quarter. The marble whiteness of the face is
relieved by lines of intense blue, a characteristic peculiar to the
small portions as well as the great.

Going ashore in little rowboats, the vast area along the sandy
beach was first explored, and it was, indeed, like a fairy land.
There were acres of grottoes, whose honey-combed walls were most
delicately carved by the soft winds and the sunlight reflections
around and in the arches of ice, such as are never seen except in
water, ice, and sky.

MOUNTAINS OF ICE,

remnants of glaciers, along the beach, stood poised on one
point, or perchance on two points, and arched between. These
icebergs were dotted with stones imbedded; great bowls were melted
out and filled with water, and little cups made of ice would afford
you a drink of fresh water on the shore of this salt sea.

At five o’clock in the morning, with the sun kissing the cold
majestic glacier into a glad awakening from its icy sleep, the
ascent was begun. Too eager to be among the first to see the top,
many started without breakfast, while others chose the wiser part,
and waited to be physically fortified.

The ascent is not so difficult as it is dangerous. There is no
trail and no guide, and many a step had to be retraced to get
across or around some bottomless fissure. For some distance the
ground seemed quite solid. Soon it was discovered that there was
but a thin covering of dirt on the solid ice below; but anon in
striking the ground with the end of an alpine stick it would prove
to be but an inch of ice and dirt mixed, and a dark abyss below
which we could not fathom. It is to be hoped, for the good of
future tourists, that there are not many such places, or that they
may soon be exposed so they can be avoided. Reaching the top after
a tedious and slippery climb, there was a long view of icy billows,
as if the sea had suddenly congealed amid a wild tempestuous storm.
Deep chasms obstructed the way on all sides, and a misstep or slip
would send one down the blue steps where no friendly rope could
rescue, and only the rushing water could be heard. To view the
solid phalanxes of icy floes, as they fill the mountain fastnesses
and imperceptibly march through the ravines and force their way to
the sea, fills one with awe indescribable. The knowledge that the
ice is moving from beneath one’s feet thrills one with a curious
sensation hard to portray.

Below, it seems like the constant wooing of the sea that wins
the offering from this wealth of purity, instead of the voluntary
act of this giant of the Arctic zone.

For twenty-four hours the awful grandeur of these scenes was
gloried in, when Captain Hunter gave the order to draw the anchor
and steam away. The whistles call the passengers back to the
steamer, where they were soon comparing specimens, viewing
instantaneous photographs, hiding bedraggled clothing, casting away
tattered mufflers, and telling of hair-breadth escapes from peril
and death. Many a tired head sought an early pillow, and floated
away in dreams of ghoulish icebergs, until the call for breakfast
disclosed to opening eyes that the boat was anchored in the

BEAUTIFUL HARBOR OF SITKA.

The steamer’s whistle is the signal for a holiday in all Alaska
ports, and Sitka is no exception to the rule. Six o’clock in the
morning, but the sleepy town had awakened to the fact of our
arrival, and the inhabitants were out in force to greet friends or
sell their canoes.

There are some 1,500 people living in Sitka, including all
races. The harbor is the most beautiful a fertile brain can
imagine. Exquisitely moulded islands are scattered about in the
most enchanting way, all shapes and sizes, with now and then a
little garden patch, and ever verdant with native woods and grasses
and charming rockeries. As far out as the eye can reach the
beautiful isles break the cold sea into bewitching inlets and lure
the mariner to shelter from evil outside waves.

The village nestles between giant mountains on a lowland curve
surrounded by verdure too dense to be penetrated with the eye, and
too far to try to walk—which is a good excuse for tired feet.
The first prominent feature to meet the eye on land is a large
square house, two stories high, located on a rocky eminence near
the shore, and overlooking the entire town and harbor. Once it was
a model dwelling of much pretension, with its spacious apartments,
hard-wood six-inch plank floors, elaborately-carved decorations,
stained-glass windows, and its amusement and refreshment halls. All
betoken the former elegance of the Russian governor’s home, which
was supported with such pride and magnificence as will never be
seen there again. The walls are crumbling, the windows broken, and
the old oaken stairways will soon be sinking to earth again, and
its only life will be on the page of history.

The mission-school hospital, chapel, and architectural buildings
occupied much of the tourists’ time, and some were deeply
interested. There are eighteen missionaries in Sitka, under the
Presbyterian jurisdiction, trying to educate and Christianize the
Indians. They are doing a noble work, but it does seem a hopeless
task when one goes among the Indian homes, sees the filth, smells
the vile odors, and studies the native habits.

These Indians, like the other tribes, are not poor, but all have
more or less money.

MANY ARE RICH,

having more than $20,000 in good hard cash, yet the squalor in
which they live would indicate the direst poverty.

The stroll to Indian river, from which the town gets its water
supply, is bewitching. The walk is made about six feet through an
evergreen forest, the trees arching overhead, for a distance of two
miles, and is close to the bay, and following the curve in a most
picturesque circle. The water is carried in buckets loaded on carts
and wheeled by hand, for horses are almost unknown in Alaska. There
are probably not more than half a dozen horses and mules in all
Alaska—not so much because of the expense of transportation
and board, as lack of roads and the long, dark days and months of
winter, when people do not go out but very little. All the packing
is done in all sections of Alaska by natives carrying the packs and
supplies on their backs.

Sitka’s most interesting object is the old Greek church, located
in the middle of the town, and also in the middle of the street.
Its form is that of a Greek cross, with a copper-covered dome,
surmounted by a chime-bell tower. The inside glitters with gold and
rare paintings, gold embroidered altar cloths and robes; quaint
candelabra of solid silver are suspended in many nooks, and an air
of sacred quiet pervades the whole building. There were no seats,
for the Russians remain standing during the worship. Service is
held every Sabbath by a Russian priest in his native language, and
the church is still supported by the Russian Government. Indeed,
Russia does more for the advancement of religion than does our own
Government for Alaska.

The walk through the Indian ranch was but a repetition of the
other towns, only that they were wealthier and uglier, if possible,
than the other tribes. The Hydahs are very powerfully built, tall,
large boned, and stout.

Two days were spent in visiting and trafficking with these
people. Then the anchor came up, and soon a silver trail like a
huge sea serpent moved among the green isles, and followed us once
more—now on the homeward sail.

But one new place of importance was made on the home trip, and
that was at

KILLISNOO.

When the steamer arrived, the evening after leaving Sitka, the
city policeman met us at the wharf and invited us to visit his hut.
Of course, he was a native, who expected to sell some curios. Over
his door was the following:

“By the Governor’s commission,
And the company’s permission,
I am made the grand tyhee
Of this entire illahee.

“Prominent in song and story,
I’ve attained the top of glory.
As Saginaw I am known to fame,
Jake is but my common name.”

The time when he attained his fame and glory must have been when
he and his wife were both drunk one night, and he put the handcuffs
on his wife and could not get them off, and she had to go to Sitka
to be released. He appears in at least a dozen different suits
while the steamer is in port, and stands ready to be photographed
every time.

Killisnoo used to be a point where 100,000 barrels of herring
oil were put up annually. The industry is now increasing
again.

NATURAL WEALTH.

And this reminds me that I am almost neglecting a reference to
Alaska’s vast resources in forests, metals, furs, and fish. There
are 300,000,000 of acres densely wooded with spruce, red and yellow
cedar, Oregon pine, hemlock, fir, and other useful varieties of
timber. Canoes are made from single trees, sixty feet long, with
eight-feet beams.

Gold, silver, lead, iron, coal, and copper are encountered in
various localities. Though but little prospected or developed,
Alaska is now yielding gold at the rate of about $2,000,000 per
year. There is a respectable area of island and mainland country
well adapted to stock-raising, and the production of many cereals
and vegetables. The climate of much of the coast country is milder
than that of Colorado, and stock can feed on the pastures the year
round.

But, if Alaska had no mines, forests, or agriculture, its seal
and salmon fisheries would remain alone an immense commercial
property. The salmon are found in almost any part of these northern
waters where fresh water comes in, as they always seek those
streams in the spawning season. There are different varieties that
come at stated periods and are caught in fabulous numbers,
sometimes running solid ten feet deep, and often retarding steamers
when a school of them is overtaken. At Idaho Inlet Mr. Van Gasken
brought up a seine for the Ancon tourists containing 350 salmon for
packing. At nearly every port the steamer landed there was either
one or more canning or salt-packing establishments for salmon. Of
these, 11,500,000 pounds were marketed last year.

Besides the salmon there is the halibut, black and white cod,
rock cod, herring, sturgeon, and many other fish, while the waters
are whipped by porpoises and whales in large numbers all along the
way. Governor Swineford estimates the products of the Alaska
fisheries last year at $3,000,000.

THE SEAL FISHERIES

are still 1,800 miles west of Sitka. St. Paul and St. George
Islands are the best breeding places of the seals, sea lions, sea
otter, and walrus. These islands are in a continuous fog in summer,
and are swept by icy blasts in winter. There are many interesting
facts connected with these islands and the habits of these phocine
kindred, but space is limited. Suffice that 100,000 seals are
killed each year for commercial purposes. Over 1,000,000 seal pups
are born every year, and when they leave for winter quarters they
go in families and not altogether. An average seal is about six
feet long, but some are found eight feet long and weigh from 400 to
800 pounds. The work of catching is all done between the middle of
June and the first of August. The fur company are supposed to pay
our Government $2 for each pelt. These hides are at once shipped to
London to be dyed and made ready to be put on the market in the
United States.

In fact, Alaska seems full to overflowing with offerings to
seekers of fortune or pleasure. Its coast climate is mild, with no
extreme heat, because of the snow-clad peaks which temper the humid
air, and never extreme cold, because of the Japan current that
bathes its mossy slopes and destroys the frigid wave before it does
its work.

Three thousand miles along this inland sea has revealed scenes
of matchless grandeur—majestic mountains (think of
snow-crowned St. Elias, rising 19,500 feet from the ocean’s edge),
the mightiest glaciers, world’s of inimitable, indescribable
splendor. It is a trip of a lifetime. There is none other like it,
and our party unanimously resolves that the tourist who fails to
take it misses very much.

From Portland to San Francisco by steamer is one of the most
enjoyable trips offered the tourist in point of safety and comfort,
and the service is exceptionally fine.

The steamers “Oregon,” “Columbia,” and “State of California” are
powerful iron steamers, built expressly for tourist travel between
Portland and San Francisco. The traveler will find this fifty-hour
ocean voyage thoroughly enjoyable; the sea is uniformly smooth, no
greater motion than the long swell of the Pacific, and the boats
are models of neatness and comfort. It affords a grand opportunity
to run down the California coast, always in sight of land, and
derive the invigorating exhilaration of an ocean trip without any
of its discomforts. Among the many points of interest to be seen
are the picturesque Columbia River Bar, the beautiful Ocean Beach
at Clatsop, the towering heights of Cape Hancock, the lonely
Mid-Ocean Lighthouse at Tillamook Rock, the historical Rogue River
Reef, Cape Mendocino, Humboldt Bay, Point Arena, and last, but not
least, the world-renowned Golden Gate of San Francisco.

The steamships of this company are all new, modern-designed iron
vessels, supplied with steam steering apparatus, electric light and
bells, and all improved nautical appliances. The state-rooms,
cabins, salons, etc., are elaborately furnished throughout, the
whole presenting an unrivaled scene of luxurious ocean life.

The advantages of this charming ocean trip to the tourist are
most obvious; there is the healthful air of the grand old Pacific
Ocean, complete freedom from dust, heat, cinders, and all the
discomforts which one meets in midsummer railway travel.

The Passenger Department of the Union Pacific Railway will take
pleasure in forwarding to any address, free, of charge, any of the
following publications, provided that with the application is
enclosed the amount of postage specified below for each
publication. All of these books and pamphlets are fresh from the
press, many of them handsomely illustrated, and accurate as regards
the region of country described. They will be found entertaining
and instructive, and invaluable as guides to and authority on the
fertile tracts and landscape wonders of the great empire of the
West. There is information for the tourist, pleasure and health
seeker, the investor, the settler, the sportsman, the artist, and
the invalid.

The Western Resort Book. Send 6 cents for postage.

This is a finely illustrated book describing the vast Union
Pacific system. Every health resort, mountain retreat, watering
place, hunter’s paradise, etc., etc., is depicted. This book gives
a full and complete detail of all tours over the line, starting
from Sioux City, Council Bluffs, Omaha, St. Joseph, Leavenworth, or
Kansas City, and contains a complete itinerary of the journey from
either of these points to the Pacific Coast.

Sights and Scenes. Send 2 cents postage for each
pamphlet.

There are five pamphlets in this set, pocket folder size,
illustrated, and are descriptive of tours to particular points. The
set comprises “Sights and Scenes in Colorado;” Utah; Idaho and
Montana; California; Oregon, Washington, and Alaska. Each pamphlet,
deals minutely with every resort of pleasure or health within its
assigned limit, and will be found bright and interesting reading
for tourists.

Facts and Figures. Send 2 cents postage for each
pamphlet.

This is a set of three pamphlets, containing facts and figures
relative to Kansas, Nebraska, and Colorado respectively. They are
more particularly meant for intending settlers in these fertile
States and will be found accurate in every particular; there is a
description of all important towns.

Vest Pocket Memorandum Book. Send 2 cents for
postage.

A handy, neatly gotten-up little memorandum book, very useful
for the farmer, business man, traveler, and tourist.

Calendar, 1890. Send 6 cents for postage.

An elegant Calendar for the year 1890, suitable for the office
and counting room.

Comprehensive Pamphlets. Send 6 cents postage for each
pamphlet.

A set of pamphlets on Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, Utah, Idaho,
Oregon, and Washington. These books treat, of the resources,
climate, acreage, minerals, grasses, soil, and products of these
various empires on an extended scale, entering very fully upon an
exhaustive treatise of the capabilities and promise of the places
described. They have been very carefully compiled, and the
information collated from Official Reports, actual settlers, and
residents of the different States and Territories.

Theatrical Diary. Send 10 cents for postage.

This is a Theatrical Diary for 1890-91, bound in Turkey Morocco,
gilt tops, and contains a, list of 255 theatres and opera houses
reached by the Union Pacific system, seating capacity, size of
stage, terms, newspapers in each town, etc., etc. This Diary is
intended only for the theatrical profession.

Commercial Salesman’s Expense Book. Send 2 cents for
postage.

A neat vest pocket memorandum book for 1890—dates, cash
accounts, etc., etc.

Outdoor Sports and Pastimes. Send 2 cents for
postage.

A carefully compiled pamphlet of some thirty pages, giving the
complete rules of this year, for Lawn Tennis, Base Ball, Croquet,
Racquet, Cricket, Quoits, La Crosse, Polo, Curling, Foot Ball,
etc., etc. There are also diagrams of a Lawn Tennis Court and Base
Ball diamond. This pamphlet will be found especially valuable to
lovers of these games.

Map of the United States. Send 25 cents for postage.

A large wall map of the United States, complete in every
particular, and compiled from the latest surveys; just published;
size, 46 x 66 inches; railways, counties, roads, etc., etc.

Stream, Sound and Sea. Send 2 cents for postage.

A neat, illustrated pamphlet descriptive of a trip from The
Dalles of the Columbia to Portland, Ore., Astoria, Clatsop Beach;
through the strait of Juan de Fuca and the waters of the Puget
Sound, and up the coast to Alaska. A handsome pamphlet containing
valuable information for the tourist.

Wonderful Story. Send 2 cents for postage.

The romance of railway building. The wonderful story of the
early surveys and the building of the Union Pacific. A paper by
General G.M. Dodge, read before the Society of the Army of the
Tennessee, September, 1888. General Sherman pronounces this
document fascinatingly interesting and, of great historical value,
and vouches for its accuracy.

Gun Club Rules and Revised Game Laws. Send 2 cents for
postage.

This valuable publication is a digest of the laws relating to
game in all the Western States and Territories. It also contains
the various gun club rules, together with a guide to all Western
localities where game of whatsoever description may be found. Every
sportsman should have one.

“The Oldest Inhabitant.” Send 10 cents for postage.

This is a buffalo head in Sepia, a very artistic study from
life. It is characterized by strong drawing and wonderful fidelity.
A very handsome acquisition for parlor or library.

Crofutt’s Overland Guide, No. 1. Send $1.00.

This book has just been issued. It graphically describes every
point, giving its history, population, business resources, etc.,
etc., on the line of the Union Pacific Hallway, between the
Missouri River and the Pacific Coast, and the tourist should not
start West without a copy in his possession. It furnishes in one
volume a complete guide to the country traversed by the Union
Pacific system, and can not fail to be of great assistance to the
tourist in selecting his route, and obtaining complete information
about the points to be visited.

A Glimpse of Great Salt Lake. Send 4 cents for
postage.

This is a charming description of a yachting cruise on the
mysterious Inland sea, beautifully illustrated with original
sketches by the well-known artist, Mr. Alfred Lambourne, of Salt
Lake City. This startling phenomena of sea and cloud and light and
color are finely portrayed. This book touches a new region, a
voyage on Great Salt Lake never before having been described and
pictured.

General Folder. No postage required.

A carefully revised General Folder is issued regularly every
month. This publication gives condensed through time tables;
through car service; a first-class map of the United States, west
of Chicago and St. Louis; important baggage and ticket regulations
of the Union Pacific Railway, thus making a valuable compendium for
the traveler and for ticket agent in selling through tickets over
the Union Pacific Railway.

The Pathfinder. No postage required.

A book of some fifty pages devoted to local time cards;
containing a complete list of stations with the altitude of each;
also connections with western stage lines and ocean steamships;
through car service; baggage and Pullman Sleeping Car rates and the
principal ticket regulations, which will prove of great value as a
ready reference for ticket agents to give passengers information
about the local branches of the Union Pacific Railway.

Alaska Folder. No postage required.

This Folder contains a brief outline of the trip to Alaska, and
also a correct map of the Northwest Pacific Coast, from Portland to
Sitka, Alaska, showing the route of vessels to and from this new
and almost unknown country.