Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1906-08-25

written Tor The Star BY Cy Warman.
The Intian ocean sets an smiles
So sof', 20 bright, 50 bloomin' blue;
There aren't wave for miles an miles,
'''''' avn ~KIPLINa.
Because we wanted to see-the shore and
the cities Of the sound. we took the COM
paratively small. inquisitive steamer Rosa
push OF at Seattle late one evening in
August.
The first day out we touched at Port
Townsend, a sea coast town that for a
moment rivaled Seattle. 1t Is a melancholy
community now. full Of empty houses. three
and four stories high. Then we steamed
across the boundary line and touched at
Victoria, on Vancouver Island. the capital
Of British Columbia. This, too. seemed a
quiet place after day in Chicago and
another in Seattle. The parliament build
ings are very fine and there are many
pretty homes. Many wealthy Canadians
live here and not q few of the steamship
and mining companies that have come Ato
existence since the discovery of gold in
the northwest have headquarters at Vic
toria.
The next stop was at Vancouver, the most
important seacoast camp in Canada Here
We picked up number OF passengers and
all the freight We could carry, leaving
seventy tons for which we had no room.
AS we steamed out of the pretty harbor
We passed picturesque lighthouse that
marked the reef Of Deadman's Island, that
was leased to Yankee and nearly caused
war. Lights and lighthouses, bells and
buoys are numerous now, because the T.
100000 Canadians have money and some ap-
probation of the value Of human life,
while the 100000 Of my countrymen have
no "tallow' and no time to fool away on
people who are fond of floundering in the
sea But Uncle Sam looked after his Klon-
dixie business. Seeing the sound full Of Ships
sailing to and from Alaska he took down
an old chart, busted 1t OF and wrote on the
margin: This chart will be found to be
not more than five miles out either way"
Dangerous Narrows.
It was thoughtful Of Uncle Sam to make
that note. 1t gives the skipper sand, but
the humor Of the thing oozes out only after
you have sailed through the various mar
rows" where five rods out either way
would put you in tall timber. With one of
the largest Atlantic liners turned crosswise
In Wrangle Narrows you might step
ashore from stem to stern.
In winter, when the snow drifts across
the deck and the rain falls and freezes
on the ropes and railing, these narrows
with their hidden rocks are dangerous
But 50 far as am able to learn there
Is not, save in the harbor of Sitka, a single
fog station. bell buoy, lamp or lighthouse
In all these Alaskan waters SET owned or
operated by the United States government.
But the pleasure seeker, the man who is
fond of travel. who likes to look upon
Gods world in the rough, will risk much
Tor sail on sea like this-a thousand
miles Of almost land-locked sea-upon
whose shores are set some Of the grandest
scenes to be found in all this wild be-
wildering west. By day these scenes slip
past our ship. pictures painted by the In
finite. scenes that no man can reproduce,
pictures that appall when one attempts to
describe them.
The great riffs in the rocks make wide
roads. or inlets through which the surfless
sea slips far back into the hills At first
you fancy your ship is sailing past the
mouths of scores of great rivers, but you
soon see the difference because Of the count
less little craft that hover about the mouths
of the real rivers. These boats are taking
salmon. By day they look like f1ocks Of
gulls; by night it seems our ship is plough
Ing through a plain plagued by lightning
bugs. The scurrying salmon. showing their
fashltght above the surface Of the sea, add
to the weird pictures that pass through the
long Alaskan twilight.
Wake in Wilder Scenes.
Every time we sleep we wake in wilder
is the glaciers-great fields Of ice that
sweep down from the summit to the sea.
High on the hills where the ice is cut and
chiseled by the sun and rain, and where
deep gorges are grooved out by rushing
rivulets, there are ice crags and turrets,
and splintered spires that CLEAN like jewels
in the summer sun. An almost matchless
panorama of peerless pictures are ranged
by nature along this wild shore set Tar
to the north, out OF the way of the busy
world, free from the dust Of travel and out
of reach of the relic hunter and despoiler.
While you ride backward, with your
glass glued to some grand glacier, you
hear an enthusiastic passenger calling at
tention to a new wonder looming In the
distance.
While this happy shipload Of people were
enjoying these scenes. drinking in the
grandeur Of 1t all and feeling better for
having communed for days with nature,
came Jim Thompson, reading aloud from
a New York magazine article that made
fair women shudder and brave men remove
their cigars and swear audibIy. Perhaps
some paper-sharp might be aboard this ship
who would return to the east and write of
US as this man had written of his fellow