s once a military post, and now has the unmistakable air of a desert
island. Some of us were not at all eager to go on shore. You see, we
were beginning to get our fill of this monotonous out-of-the-world and
out-of-the-way life. Yet Tongass is unique, and certainly has the most
interesting collection of totem poles that one is likely to see on the
voyage. At Tongass there is a little curving beach, where the ripples
sparkle among the pebbles. Beyond the beach is a strip of green lawn,
and at the top of the lawn the old officers' quarters, now falling to
decay. For background there are rocks and trees and the sea. The sea is
everywhere about Tongass, and the sea-breezes blow briskly, and the
sea-gulls waddle about the lawn and sit in rows upon the sagging roofs
as if they were thoroughly domesticated. Oh, what a droll place it is!

After a little deliberation we all went ashore in several huge
boat-loads; and, to our surprise, were welcomed by a charming young
bride in white muslin and ribbons of baby-blue. Somehow she had found
her way to the desert island--or did she spring up there like a wild
flower? And the grace with which she did the honors was the subject of
unbounded praise during the remainder of the voyage.

This pretty Bret Harte heroine, with all of the charms and virtues and
none of the vices of his camp-followers, led us through the jagged rocks
of the dilapidated quarters, down among the spray-wet rocks on the
other side of the island, and all along the dreary waste that fronts the
Indian village. Oh, how dreary that waste is!--the rocks, black and
barren, and scattered far into the frothing sea; the sandy path along
the front of the Indian lodges, with rank grass shaking and shivering in
the wind; the solemn and grim array of totem poles standing in front or
at the sides of the weather-stained lodges--and the whole place
deserted. I know not where the Indians had gone, but they were not
there--save a sick squaw or two. Probably, being fishermen, the tribe
had gone out with their canoes, and were now busy with the spoils
somewhere among the thousand passages of the archipelago.

The totem poles at Tongass are richly carved, brilliantly colored, and
grotesque in the extreme. Some of the lodges were roomy but sad-looking,
and with a perpetual shade hovering through them. We found inscriptions
in English--very rudely lettered--on many of the lodges and totem poles:
"In memory of" some one or another chief