with a vengeance! And, as this is an extract from an official publication, it may safely be inferred that the terrors of the passage are regarded by the Company in the light of a substantial asset. It must be frankly owned, however, that the case is not overstated by so much as a hair's breadth.

The description of Roger's Pass is, perhaps, even more remarkable : "The way is between enormous precipices. Mount McDonald towers a mile and a quarter above the railway in almost vertical height. Its base is but a stone's-throw distant, and it is so sheer, so bare and stupendous, that one is overawed by a sense of immensity and mighty grandeur. This is the climax of mountain scenery. In passing before the face of this gigantic precipice, the line clings to the base of Hermit Mountain, and, as the station at Roger's Pass is neared, its clustered spires appear, facing those of Mount McDonald, and nearly as high. These two matchless mountains were once, apparently, united, but ages ago some terrific convulsion of nature has split them asunder, leaving barely room for the railway." Since this description was penned, the remarkable formation described has acquired the additional fascination of tragedy, for no later than last winter Mount Hermit shot down a snow-slide

that literally effaced Roger's Pass Station and the seven unfortunate officials who were in it at the time.

After passing Kamloops there is a sudden and distinct change in the nature of the scenery. The blue-white peaks and glaciers vanish, and are replaced by legions of steep, rocky hills, innocent of snow, and clad as to their lower parts in foliage of brilliant and varied hues-a distinct relief after the monotonous pines of the higher ranges.

Through the very prescribed openings allowed by these hills, the railway and the Fraser River wind in close company, the latter at times squeezing its bulk through such amazingly narrow chinks that the tour de force of the biblical camel sinks by comparison to the level of mere vulgar jugglery. Two hundred and fifty miles of this, and the train rings its way gratefully into the

station of Vancouver; and the second stage on the road to the Great North-West is passed.

From Seattle to Skagway is the third stage, and a stage that has no fellow among the maritime stages of the world. For one thousand miles from post to post the passenger steams on his northward career, with only a bare four hours of open sea. The rest of this astounding passage is performed in the glassy waters that separate the myriad isles of the North Pacific from the mainland. In places the passage is so absurdly narrow that a stone could be thrown from the boat to either bank, and at all times the scenery is scenery. In the Lynn Canal, leading to Skagway, it becomes stupendous, the mountains rising to over 15,000 feet from the water's edge. There is its own excitement, too, about this passage. Day and night, light or dark, the good ship City of Seattle scuds along light-heartedly at fourteen knots an hour, in and out of the rocks that pass in the night. There are no lighthouses, but many fogs, during which the steam-whistle is blown, not as a warning to other ships, but in order to judge by the echo of the land whether to steer port or starboard! If the echo treads close on the heels of the whistle, the ship shies off abruptly with a snort. They seldom strike on rocks, these coast ships.

Should the pursuits of the passenger be æsthetic rather than commercial, and he has the time-and means to steam a further two hundred miles along the coast, he will see two of the grandest and most beautiful sights in the scenery of the American continent-the Muir Glacier and Mount St. Elias. The latter is said to be the most impressive mountain in the world, fairly outclassing the famous Cotopaxi, for the whole of its 18,200 feet rises sheer from the water's edge. Mount Logan, behind, is a thousand feet higher, but of less account.

In England there is so very little known of the North-West Territories-their limits, their centres, and their mode of life-that the A B C of instruction may for a few minutes be endured, even with patience. The industry of the North-West, from Skagway upwards and inwards, is mining, solely and absolutely. Miners, it is true, no less than dukes and linendrapers, have to be clothed and fed, lodged and transported, and out of such needs large fortunes have been, and are being, made; but mining, and nothing but mining, is the life, the literature, and the talk of the Great North-West; and of mining the alpha and the omega is gold. Every house, office, or store has its window-ledges decorated with blocks of quartz. Every male unit of the population two minutes after introduction produces similar specimens from his coat pocket, and a handful of nuggets from the recesses of his trousers. Male and female alike have "claims" on hand and to sellgenerally the latter; and the talk, from light to dark, and sometimes, indeed, from dark to light, is of "prospects," "leases," and "options." Skagway is the gateway to the Great North-West, the port through which all must come and go who would gather in the riches of Klondike. In the early days of the great rush there were adventurous spirits who attempted the land trail across from Ashcroft, on the Canadian Pacific, but the attempt was disastrous. The trail was known only to the Indians; the immense difficulties, even in midsummer, were greatly underrated; and the whole outfit faltered, fainted, and failed before three parts of the distance had been covered. Those that won through to Glenora, four months after leaving Ashcroft, literally crawled in, naked and penniless. The most pitiable feature in this outfit, as throughout the history of the Klondike stampede, is the terrible sufferings that were undergone by the horses. In October 1897 3600 horses lay dead at one time upon the slopes of the White Pass. On the Ashcroft trail not a single horse survived the first five weeks. These horses were half - tamed

bronchos from the

plains around Moose Jaw, and were at first wild and intractable; and the intelligence of those whose slaves they were sug gested coralling them for three days without food in order to subdue their spirit! By this humane device, backed up by a 300-lb. pack, the horse-masters effectually succeeded in their object that, in an incredibly short

so

As each horse fell its space of time, every horse had sunk beneath its load. load was transferred to its neighbour, which staggered on under its double burden till nature gave way. The immediate end was generally found in the "mud-holes," from which the exhausted animals failed to extricate themselves, and so were left to die. Such incidents are not pleasant to dwell upon. When men are racing for gold humanity drops astern, and Anglo-Saxons degenerate to the level of Spaniards.

But the Ashcroft trail is dead-relegated once more to the Indians and the bears— and Skagway is now the only gate to the land of gold. Dyea, its quondam rival, has been killed by the new White Pass Railway. It is true that those who wish it can, in the summer months, steam up the Yukon from the sea; but this is a long route and but little used. For the miner there is no gate but Skagway.

And when all is said and done, Skagway leads to but two "cities "-Dawson, aged two and a half years, and Atlin, aged eleven months. Bennet, another suckling city of huts at the end of the White Pass Railway, is the half-way house for both, and from here nine-tenths of the train-load branch off to Dawson down the Yukon River, leaving the remaining tenth to wind its picturesque course through the chain of lakes that leads to Atlin. Dawson, be it understood-prosiest named of all romantic cities-is Klondike proper; Atlin is but a babe of much promise. So here we are, at the end of seven thousand miles of travel, in the heart of the Great North-West itself, and we find the whole thing contained in but two

the miner of the North-West from his prototype in Australia or California. Anyhow, he is a gallant specimen of genus homo; and if ever a permanent population should spring from these pioneers that people the wilds of Yukon and Klondike, there will be found no finer race in the dominions of the British Empire. They are

by no means all British; there are Frenchmen among them, and many Germans; but, whatever their nationality, they seem-in that first cruel struggle for existence -to have thrown off the characteristics of their own race, and to have absorbed the dominant qualities of the Anglo-Saxon. All power to their elbow!

From Skagway the White Pass Railway runs for thirty-nine miles to Bennet. In the days of the first rush in 1897 there were two alternative trails to Klondikefrom Dyea over the Chilkoot Pass, or from Skagway over the White Pass. Both passes ran parallel, about ten miles apart, and both led to Bennet, whence the pioneers dropped down the Yukon River to Dawson-or Klondike, as it was then called-two hundred and fifty miles farther north. Atlin was so far undiscovered. And now, since March of last year, there is a railway open. It is a very wonderful thing, this railway-wonderful in many ways. There may be steeper gradients on many lines, as there are, in fact, on the Canadian Pacific Railway, and there may be many lines that climb higher, and much higher, but a greater

combination of physical and climatic difficulties has surely never been faced by railway engineer. It is also a line of aristocratic manufacture. In the early part of the year a census was taken by the superintendent of the navvies employed in its construction, and it was found that over two hundred were college men a startling proof, indeed, of the