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CAPE BLOSSOM, July 13, 1898.—The voyage is behind us. What is floating ice to a ship's crew safe on shore! We can laugh at whales, and unfriendly breezes that whisper tales of shipwreck on barren coasts. And we can walk at all hours of the day and night without holding on to the rail, and we don't have to cook breakfast and supper and dinner in an S x S galley. Oh, the charm of being on land again, a land without visible limit; a land where we are not crowded, and where we are not hindered from our work by newspaper reporters!

I am sitting at the camp-table in the dining-tent near the new "Penelope" ship-yards, and the sounds that greet my ears are varied. The incessant pounding gives evidence of vigorous work on our river boat; the hum of the forge and the ring of the anvil where Casey and Stevenson are making fittings for the engine, the wash of the surf close at hand, and last, but not least, the low, irritating, depressing, measly whine of the mosquito—this last word to mean the race. I would not intimate that there is one mosquito, or twenty: there are millions! We wear bobinet masks which protect our heads very well. To-night the wind is blowing fresh, and the winged plagues are using most of their force to keep their land legs. It is very warm, and a little exertion brings out a copious perspiration, but it is less fatiguing to keep hard at work with a will than to stop and think about it. No ice now in sight. Within two rods of camp is a deep snowdrift, where we obtain nice drinking water. Ice may be seen anywhere in Alaska all the hot days, but it is so mixed and grown in with the everlasting mosses that it is not fit to melt for drinking save in rare cases. Our ship-yards are located on the pebbly beach, and it all seems so roomy and clean after our long stay on the little "Penelope." though on account of the mosquitoes we still sleep on shipboard. The boat is anchored a mile from shore on account of the shallow water. As I look out to sea I bethink me that in all probability Kotzebue, the Russian explorer, stood on this exact spot and looked about him as long ago as July, 1816. And the mosquitoes were biting him, too!

I can afford to sleep only every other night these days. There will be time enough to sleep when the sun goes to bed. The landscape is beautiful—grassy meadows, green, bushy hillsides, and, over all, thousands of wild-flowers of a dozen kinds; dandelions, daisies, sweet-peas, and many other varieties. I have found a few beetles and have seen some butterflies, but get little time for collecting either insects or birds. My duty is to the company, and any time in which I may do what I love best to do must be taken out of my sleeping hours. Everyone is working with might and main, as the missionaries tell us that winter sets in by the last of August.

By the way, we surprised these missionaries, who been located at Cape Blossom some two years or more, and in that time have seen few fellow-countrymen. C. C. Reynolds and Clyde and Dr. Coffin were old acquaintances, and waked them up one day all of a sudden. The three were cold by the natives of the best way to approach the mission building, and, as they did so, the first thing that met their eyes were little boxes of lettuce and radishes and onions set on the sunny side of the cabin to steal the breath and smile of Old Sol, while he has his eye on the place. This is a Friends' Mission, and the three missionaries are from Whittier, California.

They are Robert Samms and wife, and a Miss Hunnicut.

The boys are working on the river boat in two shifts from twelve to twelve. This makes time for four meals a day, the largest meals being at the two twelves, and I have one of these to get. I also have the 6 p. m. and the midnight meals to get; Shafer gets the others. Of course we have our assistants who wait on table and wash dishes. Who would have thought I would become a mess cook!

I have just dressed three salmon weighing about fifteen pounds each. We traded ten gingersnaps to an Indian for them. They will make fully two meals for all of us.

First "Friends'" Mission.

July 10, 2 p. m. In the dining-tent at "Penelope" ship-yards.—Yesterday was a great day for us. We received our first mail from home. The revenue cutter "Bear" brought it, and it will probably be our last. It is sweltering hot. We find our most congenial employment in drinking ice-water and taking cold baths. And no one suffers from it. The river boat is nearly done and we have been here only a week. To-day our first prospecting party starts out, one of two, to go up the Kowak River in advance of the main party. They are taking a month's provisions, and, besides prospecting for gold, are to locate our winter quarters. We hope to make two trips with supplies up the river before it freezes. There are so many vessels of every description here that it looks like a seaport harbor. The natives are "catching on" to trading schemes, and are asking exorbitant prices for everything. We offered sixty dollars worth of flour and other things for a canoe and failed to get one. I doubt the things being of much use to us if we had them. The skins soak up water rapidly and are then easily torn or worn. The Indians keep them in water only a few hours at a time before taking them up on the beach and turning them over to dry.

Shafer went with our first party as cook, and that leaves me with seventeen men to feed. I want to get in some collecting this fall and am willing to work hard now. Of course everyone of the party is industrious; we expected to work. The mosquitoes do not like me and so I have the advantage of the others. I keep a smudge burning in the tents so the boys may eat in peace.

Penelope Ship Yards, July 17.—Oh, how hot it is to-day! And the mosquitoes are rushing business, as if aware time is nearly up with them, I slept on shore last night. We had a small tent and banked it up all around tight, and then made a smudge and shut ourselves in. We killed all the mosquitoes in sight and finally got to bed for a good seven hours' sleep. There is plenty of driftwood along the beaches, and we shall not be obliged to draw on our supply of coal for a good while. Several tons of it is coming on the "Mermaid." The vessel has not yet arrived, neither have several others whose crews warned us before we left San Francisco last spring that we would not reach Kotzebue this year. And here we are a week ahead of them, and one party prospecting up the river already.

July 19.—This morning the "Helen," as we have named our river boat, was towed out to the "Penelope," where the boiler and engines were hoisted on. She is back again now, and all is well save Rivers, who had his Angers smashed.

There must be a thousand people now in the Sound, and more are coming. These first-comers are respectable men, with few exceptions. A drunken white man shot an Indian up near the mission, and now there will be trouble. The Indian law dates tar back—"An eye for an eye." A good many accidents are happening. Some men are lost, and so are whole loads of provisions. We are safe; have lost nothing. Birds are numerous now. I went up the slough last night and got three ducks. This noon I served up a hot duck pie. This is the summer home for many birds that spend their winters south. Every morning I hear the plaintive song of the Gambel's sparrows from the bushy thickets on the hillsides, just as we hear them from the hedges at home in winter. Other f a mill a r birds now rearing their broods here are the barn swallow. Savannah sparrow and tree sparrow. Insects are common as the warm weather continues. I caught a bumblebee this morning and bottled him. As fast as the snowdrifts melt, grass and flowers spring up, crowding the snow, so to speak, into more and more limited quarters, and finally replacing it altogether. The brightest and greenest spots are where the snow has the most recently disappeared. This is a beautiful country. Some day when the speedy airship shall make distance trivial, it will be a popular summer resort, except that the water is too icy for the average bather.