its brow we had a striking view of the village below and of the
noble river, which much resembles the Saskatchewan, minus its
prairies. We were now fairly within the bewildering forest of
the north, which spreads, with some intervals of plain, to the
69th parallel of north latitude; an endless jungle of shaggy
spruce, black and white poplar, birch, tamarack and Banksian pine.
At the Landing we pitched our tents in front of the Hudson's Bay
Company's post, where had stood, the previous year, a big canvas
town of "Klondikers." Here they made preparation for their
melancholy journey, setting out on the great stream in every
species of craft, from rafts and coracles to steam barges.
Here was begun an episode of that world-wide craze, which has
run through all time, and almost every country, in which were
enacted deeds of daring and suffering which add a new chapter
to the history of human fearlessness and folly.

The Landing was a considerable hamlet for such a wilderness,
being the shipping point to Mackenzie River, and, via the Lesser
Slave Lake, to the Upper Peace. It consisted of the Hudson's Bay
Company's establishment, with large storehouses, a sawmill, the
residence and church of a Church of England bishop, and a Roman
Catholic station, with a variety of shelters in the shape of
boarding-houses, shacks and tepees all around. From the number
of scows and barges in all stages of construction, and the high
timber canting-tackles, it had quite a shipyard-like look, the
population being mainly mechanics, who constructed scows, small
barges, called "sturgeons," and the old "York," or inland boat,
carrying from four to five tons. Here, hauled up on the bank, was
the Hudson's Bay Company's steamer, the _Athabasca_, a well-built
vessel about 160 feet long by 28 feet beam. This vessel, it was
found, drew too much water for the channel; so there she lay,
rotting upon her skids. It was a tantalizing sight to ourselves,
who would have been spared many a heart-break had she been fit
for service. A more interesting feature of the Landing, however,
was the well sunk by the Government borer, Mr. Fraser, for oil,
but which sent up gas instead. The latter was struck at a
considerable depth, and, when we were there, was led from the
shaft under the river bank by a pipe, from which it issued
aflame, burning constantly, we were told, summer and winter.
Standing at the gateway of the unknown North, and looking
at this interesting featur