e dense canopy, supported far aloft by the
majestic columns that clustered about us. Under foot the russet moss was
of astonishing depth and softness. One walks with care upon it, for the
foot breaks through the thick matting that has in many cases spread from
log to log, hiding treacherous traps beneath. The ferns luxuriate in
this sylvan paradise; and many a beautiful shrub, new to us, bore
flowers that blushed unseen until we made our unexpected and perhaps
unwelcome appearance.

Here we camped. The cloth was spread in a temple not made with hands;
how hard it is to avoid ringing in these little old-time tags about
flowers and forests! The viands were deftly served; the merry jest went
round, and sometimes came back the same way, "returned with thanks." And
thus we revelled in the midst of a solitude that may never before have
been broken by the sound of human voice. When we held our peace--which
we did at long intervals, and for a brief moment only--we realized this
solemn fact; but it didn't seem to impress us much on the spot. Why,
even the birds were silent. Only the sea-gulls flashed their white wings
under the boughs in the edge of the wood, and wheeled away in dizzy
circles, piping sharp, peevish cries.

It was a delightful day we passed together. The memory of it is one of
the most precious souvenirs of the Alaskan tour; and it was with
reluctance that we returned to the ship, after consulting our watches
with astonishment; for the late hours gave no warning, and we might have
passed the night there in the loveliest of twilights.

The _Pinta_ was about to withdraw to her anchorage as we boarded the
_Ancon_; and then, too late, I discovered among the officers of that
terror of the sea an old friend with whom I had revelled in the halcyon
days at Stag Racket Bungalow, Honolulu. He was then on the U. S.
man-of-war, _Alaska_ of jolly memory; and he, with his companions,
constituted the crack mess of the navy. But the _Alaska_ is a sheer
hulk, and her once jovial crew scattered hither and yon; he alone, in
the solitude of these unfreighted waters, remains to tell the tale. I
thought it a happy coincidence that, having met him first under _Old
Glory_, then floating in the trade wind that blew over southern seas, I
should find him last in the lone land that gave name to the ship that
brought him over. Can the theosophists unravel this mystery, or see
aught in it that verges upon the mystic philosophy? As we steame