d the
daily and dismal landscape during the first week. There is literally
nothing of interest to be seen along the banks of the Yukon from its
mouth to Dawson City, save perhaps the Catholic mission of the Holy
Cross at Koserefski; which is prettily situated within a stone's throw
of the river, and consists of several neat wooden buildings comprising a
beautiful little chapel and school for native children. The _Hannah_
remained here for some hours, which enabled me to renew my acquaintance
with the good nuns, and to visit the schoolhouse, where some Indian
children of both sexes were at work. French was the language spoken, and
it seemed strange to hear the crisp, clear accent in this deserted
corner of civilisation. An old acquaintance of my former voyage, pretty
Sister Winifred, showed us around the garden, with its smooth green
lawns, bright flower-beds, and white statue of Our Lady in a shrine of
pine boughs. All the surroundings wore an air of peace and homeliness
suggestive of some quiet country village in far-away France, and I could
have lingered here for hours had not large and bloodthirsty mosquitoes
swarmed from the woods around and driven me reluctantly back to the
steamer.

At Koserefski we bade a final farewell to the "Tundra" and its Eskimo,
and from here onwards encountered only dense forests and the unsavoury
and generally sulky Alaskan Indian. They are not a pleasing race, for
laziness and impudence seemed to be the chief characteristics of those
with whom we had to deal throughout the former journey. On this occasion
we met with very few natives, who have apparently been driven out of the
principal towns by the white man. The Alaskan Indian's once picturesque
costume is now discarded for clothes of European cut, which render him
even more unattractive than ever. Moccasins and his pretty bark-canoe
are now the only distinctive mark of the _Siwash_, who is as fond of
strong drink as the Eskimo, and also resembles the latter in his
boundless capacities for lying and theft. But there are probably not
more than 1500 natives in all inhabiting the Yukon region, and these are
rapidly decreasing. I do not think I saw more than fifty Indians
throughout the journey from Cape Nome to Skagway, the terminus of the
"White Pass" railway. South of this, along the coast to Vancouver, they
were more numerous, and apparently less lazy and degraded than the
Indians of the interior.

On board the _Hannah_ the talk was