e were often those with
tears in their eyes, and a homesick feeling at their heart upon bidding
farewell to friends who were leaving for the outside.

With the approach of a long, hard winter in the Arctic, so unknown and
untried by many, with a distance of thousands of miles of ocean soon to
roll between them, it was many times difficult to say a careless
good-bye. For those remaining in Alaska, who could foresee the future?
Was it to be a fortunate and happy one, or would it disclose only
misfortune, with, perchance, sickness and death? Would these partings be
followed by future happy meetings, or were they now final? Who could
tell?

Among those constantly sailing for the outside were those who left
regretfully, and those who left joyfully; there was the husband and
father returning to his loved ones with "pokes," well filled with
nuggets, and the wherewithal to make them more happy than ever before.

There were those returning to sweethearts who daily watched and waited
longingly for their home-coming which would be more than joyful. There
were those leaving who would come again when the long winter was over,
to renew their search for gold already successfully begun; and they were
satisfied.

There were many who left the gold fields with discouragement depicted
upon their every feature. They had been entirely unable to adapt
themselves to circumstances so different to any they had before known,
and they had not possessed the foresight and judgment to decide affairs
when the critical moments came. Perhaps a fondness for home, and dear
ones, pulled too persistently upon the heartstrings; nothing here
looked good to them, and they went home disgusted with the whole world.
Unless a man or woman can quickly adjust himself or herself to changed
conditions, and has a willingness to turn his or her hand to any
honorable labor, he would better remain at home, and allow others to go
to Alaska.

If a man goes there with pockets already well lined, intending to
operate in mining stocks, he still needs the adjustable spirit, because
of the new, crude, and compulsory manners of living. He must be able to
forget the luxury of silver spoons, delicate hands, soft beds, and steam
heat; enjoying, or at least accommodating himself to the use of tin
spoons, coarse food, no bed, and less heat, if his place and
circumstances for a time demand such loss of memory.

A bountiful supply of hopefulness is also necessary, in order, at ti