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A Literary Magazine by the Students of Michigan University.

VOL. XI.

NOVEMBER, 1900.

NO. 2.

THE MIDNIGHT SUN IN ALASKA.

BY ALFRED H. WHITE.

It was with a great deal of interest and quite as much curiosity that we observed our fellow passengers on the steamer "City of Topeka," and attempted to classify them. Which of them had already been to the land of gold and which of them were like ourselves, "cheechacos," or newcomers? And of those who had been there, how many had found the end of the rainbow with its pot of gold, and how many had found only a hard life and bitter experiences?

As we became better acquainted we heard tales of lonely life in regions which to us were unknown even by name. The "Klondike," we learned, was but a small region, no larger than a Michigan county. Such fragments of story were too well known to be talked of by any except the "cheechacos." The talk of the knowing ones was of the rich strike reported on the Copper River the day before we left Seattle, of the disappointed miners at Nome, and of the Kuskokwin and the Tanana rivers, each of them nearly a thousand miles long and flowing through unknown country whence reports were coming of rich finds.

The vastness of Alaska grew upon us, as did its richness; it seemed as though gold was anywhere, ev

erywhere, at SO many different points was it found. Yet we had abundant evidence around us that only a few of the seekers for it ever get more than a bare living from Alaska's frozen bosom. We had with us one of the rare exceptions-the miner "who struck it rich." Going into the Klondike in the stampede of '98, he secured a claim on the now famous Eldorado Creek. Claims were being taken hit or miss. The latest comer went up the creek to the claim last located and located just beyond. His claim might be worth much or it might be worth nothing. The secret lay locked under twenty feet of frozen gravel. of frozen gravel. It was under these conditions that Mr. Lippy traded his claim, practically "sights unseen," for another two miles further down the creek, that he might accommodate two friends who wanted to have adjoining claims. His new claim was No. 17 Eldorado, now known as the richest claim. on that richest of creeks, and it has made its owner a millionaire in three years. three years. He was making his way in on our steamer to make arrangements for transporting the half ton of gold representing the season's profits.

It is pleasant to record that Mr.

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MIDNIGHT ON THE YUKON, TAKEN BY THE LIGHT OF THE MIDNIGHT SUN.

Lippy is yet again an exception among miners, in that he knows how to use his money, which he is investing in substantial improvements in his native city of Seattle. Although he was perhaps the only markedly successful miner on the boat, and it would seem but human nature for the less successful to at least grumble at "some people's luck," neither there nor elsewhere in that country did I ever hear any one express the slightest envy toward the fortunate ones.

With this varied cargo of human freight bound together by hope and desire, we moved through the route well known to tourists-the in'and passage. We moved in and out among the rocky islands, which, except for a few hours, mercifully protected us from the storms of the Pacific. Stopping here and there to put off freight at a little mining town or a salmon cannery, our leisurely progress brought us in the course of five days to Skaguay, the

gateway of the Yukon. The town lies at the head of that immense fiord-the Lynn Canal. It covers a flat stretch of narrow valley with precipitous, snow-capped mountains rising on either side. The road to the interior lies up this valley. Here the hardships of getting into the Klondike used to begin. Here started the trail over the dreaded White Pass. At first every man had to transport an outfit and provisions for a year, and as it all went over this trail it was soon lined with discarded outfits, dead pack animals and not a few human graves. Today a railroad winds over this summit, and as the passenger, looking out of the window, realizes that the creek bed in the gorge below is the old trail, he begins to understand how it was that the miners felt despair overtake them as they toiled along, burdened by heavy loads and oppressed by the thought of the repeated trips they must make to get their goods

across. And yet this pass is only 2,400 feet above sea level, and its summit but eighteen miles from Skaguay.

The rear platform of our train was crowded with enthusiastic kodakers, eager to get views of what the advertisements proclaimed to be "The scenic route of the world." There was the little lady in black from New York, who had rashly "grubstaked" a miner and was now making the trip for the second time to prevent being defrauded of her rights. There were also the two young men bound for Nome who were ready to brave the hardships and privatio s they might meet there, but who were taking this long and expensive trip overland and down the Yukon because one of them was afraid of seasickness. But prominent among the group stands out "Chicago.' We never knew his name, though he accompanied us all the way to Dawson. He could not be called a type; he

belongs in a class by h.mself, for he was a Chicago lawyer who believed everything that was told him. It was he who carefully put his watch chain out of sight at the suggestion of a fellow passenger that he would have to pay duty if the custom house officer saw it. And it was "Chicago" who tried to take a snap shot of the same official only to be caught in the act and forced to folow shamefacedly at the heels of the officer into the custom house to pay duty upon the camera.

At Summit, 24 miles from Skaguay, is the international boundary with the flags of both nations flying side by side from a high rock near the track. Seventeen miles more of rail brought us to Bennett, and twenty-five, by steam along the lake, to Caribou. There another section of the railroad, completed only three days before, was ready to carry us forty-two miles further and land us on the Yukon at the very new town of White Horse,

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