eral
resources of Arctic Siberia, a practical survey of which must take at
least fifteen to twenty years. If reports are then favourable, Russia
may begin to consider the advisability of a line to America, but,
notwithstanding the fact that an attempt has been made in certain
quarters to obtain money from the public for this now extremely shadowy
scheme, I can only say that all the prominent Russian officials whom I
have met simply ridicule the project.

Skagway is pleasantly situated on the shores of the Lynn Canal, in an
amphitheatre formed by precipitous cliffs, the granite peaks of which
almost overhang the little town. A curious effect is produced here by
rudely coloured advertisements of some one's chewing gum, or somebody's
else cigars with which the rocky sides of the nearest hills are defaced.
But there is nothing new in this, for, as far back as 1887, the name of
a well-known American pill and ointment vendor met my astonished gaze on
the Great Wall of China. The North Pole will soon be the only virgin
field left open to the up-to-date advertiser. Skagway is now a quiet,
orderly township, and a favourite resort of tourists, but shortly after
it was founded, in 1898, a band of swindlers and cut-throats arrived on
the scene, and practically held the place at their mercy for several
weeks. The leader of this gang was one "Soapy Smith," a noted
"confidence man," whose deeds of violence are still spoken of here with
bated breath. This impudent scoundrel (said to have been a gentleman by
birth) was clever enough to become mayor of the town, and was thus
enabled to commit robberies with impunity. Many a poor miner leaving the
country with a hardly earned pile has been completely fleeced, and
sometimes murdered, by the iniquitous and ubiquitous "Soapy," who is
said to have slain, directly or indirectly, over twenty men. Finally,
however, a mass meeting was held, where Smith was shot dead, not before
he had also taken the life of his slayer.

Southern Alaska is the Switzerland of America, and every summer its
shores are invaded by hordes of tourists. There was, therefore, little
room to spare in the steamer in which we travelled down the Lynn Canal,
one of the grandest fjords on the coast, which meanders through an
archipelago of beautiful islands, and past a coast-line of snowy peaks
and glaciers of clear, blue crystal washed by the waves of the sea. Its
glaciers are one of the wonders of Alaska, for nowhere in the w