[June 17th—June 28th]

                                           Sitka, June 17th 1899.

My dear Helen -

     For three days we have been in or near this town and now having done it fairly thoroughly are about ready to start further north.  It has been a very pleasant stay in this sleepy quiet little town and I have made some such pleasant friends here that I regret leaving.  Lieut. Emmons has been friendship itself and sent me away a little while ago with several charming souvenirs of Sitka, one of them a wedding present for you.  The three days have slipped away in various excursions.  The first Wednesday was spent seeing Sitka and making small purchases from the Indians.  Thursday the steamer took us down to the Hot Springs.  Friday I made an expedition with Mr. Devereux to a mine at the head of the beautiful Silver Bay whither we went in a launch.  In the evening we had the reception at Gov. Brady's which would have been dull but for the excitement of having some of the Indians there in order to get a record of their talking and singing on the big Graphophone we have on the ship.  Their songs were not bad and the record when reproduced was fairly successful. 

     Today has been passed in loitering about again thro' the town hunting for baskets and in writing up notes.  Finally in making calls at the Emmons and Bradys in acknowledgement of their entertainment. Mrs. Emmons had invited me to dinner for Friday but it was too late when we got back from Silver Bay for me to go.  He is a great student of Indian ways and customs and had store of interesting photographs and relics.  So an hour passed very quickly over a cup of tea. 

     The mail was a blank for me and I leave all hope behind here of hearing from you until we get back to Seattle six weeks hence.  I can only hope that the old saying is true—no news is good news and that you are well and happy on this your last day of school.  My letters must perforce be less frequent from now on.  But the plans are still so uncertain that I can tell you little what to expect in that line.  We sail from here direct for Yakatat Bay at the base of Mt. St. Elias where we shall spend some time.  Then north to Cooke's Inlet where the hunters have their turn of sport and then westward to Kodiak and Unalaska with a chance for a run as far north as the Seal Islands which would be a rare treat could we see them.  Then it will be straight away south for Seattle and Cambridge!!  From now on we lose our Inland Passage and get the swell of the wide Pacific so we may expect for a while at least less regular attendance at meals than has been the rule hitherto.  I cannot tell you how disappointed I was not to get a letter when others were reading theirs.  I know it is the fault of the mails and not because you did not write.  But it was very hard to really believe that there was nothing for me.

     I have made up my mind that I will get nothing in the way of jade for Mr. Bishop.  It was always scarce and has all been gathered in so that it is rarer than gold.  There were a few little pieces here which I did not buy because of exorbitant prices and I expect to see no more. 

     We have just come in from the Greek Church where the Trinity service was beginning, this, Saturday evening.  The singing was rather good but it was cold and damp and I preferred to have a chat with you before we sailed and left this letter behind.  There was a funny sight at the Gov.'s house this afternoon.  The Graphophone was set going for the benefit of the Indians who gathered around in crowds and their amusement was great when they heard their own song of the night before sung out to them.  The starting moment has come and I must close.  Good bye and be a good girl!  I kiss you good nignt a hundred times and then again good night.

                                          Lovingly

                                                Charlie

                                          In Camp

                                          Yakutat Bay, Alaska

                                          June 21st 1899

My dear:

     You see I have not forgotten that this is our day and that I was to write to you on this date if on no other.

     But certainly it would be hard to imagine a greater contrast than that between my present surroundings and those that would have held had I stayed at home.  Behold me stretched on the sand in front of a big driftwood fire partly for the sake of its warmth, partly to avoid mosquitoes by keeping in its smoke.  It is nearly midday and we have been waiting idly and impatiently all the morning for the steamer visible over the bay to come and take us off.  For we have been here two days already and have done all there is to do and would be glad to shift our camp.  I think I said good night to you last at Sitka just before sailing away on Saturday evening.  We had a game of cards that evening that lasted till late and when we awoke on Sunday we found the steamner still in sight of land tho' well offshore and much less swell from the open ocean than we had expected to find.  Big glaciers were in sight and we headed for one of these—the La Perouse—coming within a couple of miles of it when a boat party put off to land.  There was a heavy surf where they landed and all were well ducked before they got back again so I was by no means sorry that I was not one of the party.  I laid around on the deck or in the cabin all day and read a novel, a wretched story by Weyman which was not worth the reading save that there was nothing else to do.  The splendid range of mountains which here skirts the coast and should have been in our full view was masked by heavy low lying clouds and the day passed slowly and quite without event.  In the evening there was a service and sermon in the social hall and after that I scurried around to get my things ready for an early start on Monday on this camping trip.

     The morning found us at Yakutat village where a Swedish missionary labors among a few poor Indians now all away seal-hunting.  Here we left a party and the steamer moved up the bay to this shore where she landed us and two hunting parties and then went on up the Bay thro' the thick pack ice.  We made our camp, seven of us, Merriam, Coville, Fisher, Fernow, Curtis and a cook, in a shelter corner behind some sand dunes—a lovely place but for the mosquitoes which soon swarmed out of the swamps and woods.  But on went our mosquito veils—black affairs which hang down from our broad brim hats and keep the hungry pests at bay.  Tents were soon up and lunch ready.  Meanwhile we had had time to see the luxuriance of the flowers round about.  Lovely blue violets—quantities of large strawberries which a month later must give a bounteous harvest of fruit, big blue lupines and many lesser known but often beautiful flowers dotted the high grass or grew in swamps and beneath the willows and alders.

     Yakutat Bay is the only break in the coast for 300 miles above Sitka where there is safe harborage.  It is surrounded by lofty mountains:  St. Elias the master peak, but we have as yet seen but the bases of the same and the glaciers that pour down from heights above.  In the afternoon we started off in couples, I with Mr. Fernow and we went along the coast to spy out the lay of the land and see what we could do the next day.  It was a cold cloudy day, squalls of rain coming now and then and we had frequently to ford streams too deep for our boots and wading was no joke in the ice cold water.  We returned in time for supper and spent the rest of the evening and all the night fighting off the ravenous mosquitoes.  It is a comical sight to see us all around camp with black veils over our big hats falling down to our shoulders to keep the fiends out and when we eat we have to snatch bites between slaps!  Tuesday three of us went in the boat to the foot of the mountain and then scrambled up an old dead glacier whose foot was covered with a dense alder thicket although the ice was but thinly covered with soil.  We went up by an open torrent bed but returned thro' the alder thicket which was but poor travelling.

                                          Thursday evening June 22

                                           on board G.W. Elder.

     I dropped my pencil yesterday and thro' sheer laziness did not take it up again.  We waited all day for the steamer in vain and I lay around in the sand fighting mosquitoes and watching for the mountains to come out of the clouds which they did to a certain limited extent, tho' not so as to show anywhere near their full glory.  The ship which we had watched all day disappeared down the bay and we realized that the ice was too thick to allow her to approach.

     Toward evening I summoned energy for a walk down the Bay and we were rewarded by finding a fine stream and on its banks an old deserted Indian hut and canoe.  I have not mentioned that the only inhabitants of this region are bears whose tracks we were constantly crossing so that we were always in a sort of expectation that each short turn we made might bring us face to face with bruin who was said to be particularly fierce in this locality.  Notwithstanding, neither we nor any of the bear hunters in the two camps got sight at the big game and the only captures were mice and many birds by the collectors and some salmon shot in the river.  The evening was cold, rainy and miserable, the night was mosquitoey again and I got thoroughly sick of the camp.  This morning we saw the steamer coming in and by the time we had packed up our duds the boats were in our creek and by 1:30 P.M. we were all aboard again.  We found the steamer party in high spirits over a lovely day in the upper part of the Bay known as Disenchantment Bay so we quite missed the fun and got nothing in return.  We landed this afternoon at an Indian village where the seal hunters were in all the glory of their chase—up to the eyes in filth, grease and blubber and it was a relief to get off to the flowers and shrubs of the hillside where we sat or scrambled a couple of hours away.  Now all are on board again and we are turned westward down the bay.  We lie at Yakutat over night where this letter will be mailed.  Then we turn northward once more.  We still hope that tomorrow the clouds will lift and give us a glimpse of St. Elias as we pas by.  But it is but a poor chance and I have no great expectation that we shall be favored.

     So Yakutat Bay has been disappointing to me all around and practically void of results.  I hope for better luck in Prince William Sound whither we are now bound.

     I do not mean to give the impression however that the camp was not a pleasant one nor that I did not enjoy the enforced idleness of two days.  Loafing always does come easy to me and once my mind was made up that we could neither get away nor do anything I had a first class "bum" and put in all the extra time eating—7 meals a day our cook says.  And then it gave me much extra time to think of you and to wonder what you were doing and whether you thought of me once in a while on June 21st.  In Sitka we had papers as late as June 9th and they told of a hot spell in New York.  I suppose you too are wearing summer things that you so love tho' it seems hard enough to realize that it can be uncomfortably warm anywhere for here my winter wear is none too heavy and I find plenty of use for my sweater and the hideous but warm clothes I purchased in Seattle.  The sudden transitions from the camp to the comparative luxury and civilization are queer enough and I must confess that camping out in such a rainy country loses much of the charm which I had learned to associate with it from my California experiences.

     I must close in a hurry to catch the mail that is going ashore.  Good-night with love and devotion from your

                                          Charlie

                                           On board G.W. Elder.

                                           Prince William Sound

                                           June 24th

My dear:

     I was especially lonely and longing for you this afternoon because it was so beautiful and I wished you might have been here to share the delight I found in the prospect.

     All yesterday afternoon and this morning we were sailing in a thick fog that hid from sight everything a few yards beyond the ship.  So that when the sun came out gloriously about 2 o'clock we were all doubly ready to welcome it, especially as it came just in time to give us a fine view of the entrance to this sound and of the grand mountains which enclose it.  Yesterday we did not move just as I expected.  Instead of leaving for the north from Yakutat village we returned up the bay to the Indian encampment where the ship lay all the morning while the trappers look[ed] over their traps for mice and Mr. Harriman bought some canoes from the Indians.  I spent the time in a splendid scramble with two of the girls whom I piloted across several rushing mountain streams which they waded in their rubber boots while I jumped as well as I could.  Then we scrambled up a steep snow slope and back thro' the bushy side hill gathering a fine bunch of columbines (how they made me think of you and our last walk!) and other flowers and listening to the sweet songs of the thrushes.

     Prof. Emerson has just come and started telling stories and bothering me.  I sent him off by telling him that the lights go out at midnight and that would be in ten minutes whereupon he desired me to present his compliments!

     To go on.  We got back to the shore just as the whistle called us aboard so instead of wading the streams again we hailed some Indian canoes near at hand and paddled out in these frail and tipsy dugouts.  By the time we had finished lunch we were in the fog as aforesaid and I spent the whole P.M. in the cabin over a register reading with the result that I had a fine headache  by supper time and was nearly seasick from the rolling of the vessel.  But I went to bed early, dreamt of you and our wedding and woke up refreshed.

     The mountains rose up as we entered the bay in a great snowy wall ahead of us and the nearer slopes were all dark green with forest.  The swell ceased as soon as we got into the bay and we all lay around on the upper deck basking in unwonted sunshine and enjoying the view.  The only regrets were first that you were not here, second that the sun could not have come out one day sooner so as to give us the coveted view of St.Elias and its glaciers.

     We had a slight excitement about 4:30 in the form of fire drill, all appearing with life preservers on the upper deck and the boats being manned.  After supper we dropped anchor at this place, Orca, where this letter will be mailed, and most of us piled ashore for a stroll in the twilight.  I am off early in the morning to climb the high mountain so I must make this a short note.  I started to write during the afternoon but the boat shook so and so much was going on all around including the shifting scenery that I put my pen away.

     Good night!  I wonder how you spent Class Day and today and whether you are having any sort of a good time.  I trust so and also that you think of me once in a while—as often say as I do of you which is at least every hour and oftener.

     Good night once more and still again good night!

                                          Lovingly

                                                Charlie

                                           Camp Perfecto

                                           June 28th 1899.

My dear:

       I do not know that anyone else calls it by that name —nor whether when they hear me call if so they realize all it signifies—this much however is certain—that it is a place worthy of the original as nearly as a camp could be.  I wish you might have been here when we landed Sunday evening to enjoy with me its peculiar beauties.  Certainly you would have appreciated it better then than you can from any description I can give under present conditions especially for they are to say the least not wholly favorable to letter writing.  Six of us are in a tent ten by fourteen feet in dimensions trying to keep warm and dry about a little sheet iron stove.  Again we are waiting for the steamer and the cold rain has driven us all in to keep warm.  The quarters are close and the others are talking.