y subsiding into a comatose state, and remaining in it
until the next boat heaves in sight. One feeds one's self mechanically;
takes one's constitutional along the shore or over one of the goat-paths
that strike inland; nodding now and again to the familiar faces that
seem never to change in expression except during tourist's hours; and
then repairs to that bed which is the salvation of the solitary, for
sleep and oblivion are the good angels that brood over it. In summer the
brief night--barely forty winks in length--is so silvery and so soft
that it is a delight to sit up in it even if one is alone. Lights and
shadows play with one another, and are reflected in sea and sky until
the eye is almost dazzled with the loveliness of the scene. I believe if
I were banished to Alaska I would sleep in the daytime--say from 8 a. m.
to 5 p. m.,--and revel in the wakeful beauty of the other hours.

But the winter, and the endless night of winter!--when the sun sinks to
rest in discouragement at three or four o'clock in the afternoon, and
rises with a faint heart and a pale face at ten or eleven in the
forenoon; when even high noon is unworthy of the name--for the dull
luminary, having barely got above the fence at twelve o'clock, backs out
of it and sinks again into the blackness of darkness one is destined to
endure for at least two thirds of the four and twenty! Since the moon is
no more obliging to the Alaskans than the sun is, what is a poor fellow
to do? He can watch the aurora until his eyes ache; he can sit over a
game of cards and a glass of toddy--he can always get the latter up
there; he can trim his lamp and chat with his chums and fill his pipe
over and over again. But the night thickens and the time begins to lag;
he looks at his watch, to find it is only 9 p. m., and there are twelve
hours between him and daylight. It is a great land in which to store
one's mind with knowledge, provided one has the books at hand and good
eyes and a lamp that won't flicker or smoke. Yet why should I worry
about this when there are people who live through it and like it?--or at
least they say they do.

In my mind's eye I see the Alaska of the future--and the not far-distant
future. Among the most beautiful of the islands there will be fine
openings; lawns and flowers will carpet the slopes from the dark walls
of the forest to the water's edge. In the midst of these favored spots
summer hotels will throw wide their glorious windows upo