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Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre filmds A des taux da reduction diffdrents. Lorsque le document ttst trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clich6, il est filmd d partir de Tangle supirieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la methods. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 s.> 515) STAMPEDES ON THE KLONDIKE .^n HOW I MISSED BEING A MILLIONAIRE Bv JOAgriN MILLElf [Note. — On July 2r)th, Joaquin Miller sailed from Seattle on the steamer City of Mexico bound for Dawson by way of Chilkoot pass. His ba}j;ga}i;e consisted of a hand-satchel, and his available funds were less than one hundred dollars. It was his intention to walk over the Chilkoot pass, build a boat, shoot the White Horse rapids, and reach Dawson; then make an actual in- spection of the mines, take a boat down the Yukon to the ojjen .sea and St. Michaels, and thus complete the circuit of the frozen North. He made the tri]i from .luneau to Dawson in fifteen day.s and of all the people who started, he was one of the few that completed the trip to Dawson. His pictur- esque letters have been published in the New York .fniininl, the Boston (Hiihc, Chi- cago Trihinii, I'hiladeljihia /iKjiiiirr, St. Louis licpiihlh\ ami the San Francisco Kx- innliirr. A few i)its of description from these ought to be put in the permanent magazine form and will give some idea of his adventurous journey, making the best introduction to the article that follows them.— El). ] (^{GSSINd ClllI.KOOT I'ASS Bi'T now as we stood fronting that gran- ite-built and cloud-covered mountain pass, we felt that there was work, and terrible work, before us, especially if the threatened rain fell. Resting a little time, the clouds lifted and we looked up. What a glorious spec- tacle, and what a sidendid exam})le of .Amer- ican manhood I It made my heart thrill and throb with pride in my great i)eople. .\way up where an eagle might i)ause and poise his daring wings with care, we saw below the clouds, against the clouds, and even in the clouds, the brave men climbing with their i)ack.s, pike in hand, holding on with one hand, holding the pike in the other. Sixty pounds, seventy-five, and one hundred, and in one rare case a giant French courier with two hundred pounds. )i;) All the pictures that have been painted by word or on ea.sel, or even in imagination, of Napoleon and his men climbing the Alps are but childish playthings in compari-son. We raised a shout, and up the line it ran, the long, steep, and tortuous line that reached from a bluff above us on and over and up till it lost itself in the clouds. And still down from out the clouds the shout and cry of exultation of those brave con- (juerors came back, and only died away when the distance made it impossible to be heard any longer. And now we began to ascend. It was not so hard as it seemed. The stupendous granite mountain, the home of the avalanche THE TRAIL FUOM DYEA' 'The illustrations are rroiii Photos sent down by Mr. Miller. Tile Snii Francisco F.xuviinii- has courteously reUaseil Mr. Miller from his engngeiuent to it, so far as this article is concerned. PfTificN.W.Hist'^"' PROVINCIAL. U.URARY VICTORIA, B. U. rt. 520 OVERLAND MONTHLY whii'sawim; Fur hoat hiildini; at lindeman and the father of glaciers, melted away be- fore us as we crnibed, and in a single hour of brisk work, we stood against the summit, or rather between the big, granite blocks that mark the summit. The pass is not so formidable as it looks, and it is not half so formidable as represented. Yet, mark you, it is no boy's play; no man's play. It is a man's, and a big strong man's, honest work, and takes strength of body and nerve of soul. Right in the pass and within ten feet of a snow bank that has not perished for a thousand years, I picked and ate a little strawberry, and as 1 rested and roamed about a bit, looking down into the brightly blue lakes that feed the headwaters of the Yukon, I gathered a little sunHcwer, a wild hyacinth, and a wild pea blossom, for my buttonhole. .SHOOTINC WHITK HOKSK UAIMDS Boom! Bang! We were literally loaded into a cannon, shot in and down and out as through *ind out of a gun into Byron's hell of waters; and r,hen the shouts that went up with the tossing arms and waving hats! Ii, was hearty, heart- felt, human, - Hi if the men were almost choking with solicitude; a wild, wild. Western shout from great strong men. Yet a shout with tears in it. lUit the regiment of unbridled white horses still plunged and leapt and charged in our wreck-scattered way. Ten thousand gleaming horses. Tliese must be ridden down in one des])erate dash. There was no old guard to follow, if our first brave charge failed. We must ride them down this instant, or he ridden down. The special expedition, contem- plating and all the time quietly plan- ning for this time-saving venture, had the (lay before run up the .\merican flag, although on British soil; "ml with all resjject for the honest Brilo.'s; and never Hew flag so glori- ously, indeed, sublimely i)eautiful. This morning of this great white day we had nailed the staff to our ves- sel's side. It is the only .American flag seen along the upper Yukon, although we are never out of sight of boats; and now as we paused a second on the waves at the mouth of the canon, ready for the final and more desperate charge, the excited i)eople above us suddenly caught sight of "Old (Ilory." .\nd such a shout! .\nd then they broke forth in a tempest of cheers and song, in which "The .American Flag," "Dixie," ".Marching through (leorgia," and ".John I'rown," were heard, — anything to give vent to the pent-u]) hearts as we rowed and ro'ved into the flying, white battle horses. They smote us right in the breast until the water l)lunged ten feet into the air and drenched even the captain away hack at the helm. The oarsnen were knocked down, but again they grasjjod their oars and again we jilunged on, and again they were knocked down and the boat went reeling to the right. -And then from our rear the rushing cataract came and spun us almost like a top, drifting and tossing us from one white horse to another as a toy. The captain now guided his boat from the bow. Again the barge was knocked about and whirled around in the white sea of white horses until the captain once more stood in BBHftSSSSdiSiifiSiu ,.>j'r ^z •^^^^"9 w STAMPEDES ON THE KLONDIKE 521 he shouts that sing arms and hearty, heart- the men were solicitude; a out from great out with tears nt of unbridled ged and leapt reek-scattered naming horses. down in one e was no old iir first brave lust ride them -' ridden down, tion, contem- e quietly plan- g venture, had the American ish soil; '^nd the honest ■ flag so glori- 'ly beautiful, •eat white day t' to our ves- nly American ipper Yukon, out of sight we paused a it the mouth nal and more people above "Old dlory." 1 they broke and song, in ?," "Dixie," ' and "John J to give vent ed and ron-ed orses. They til the water nd drenched it the helm, ►■n, but again 1 again we ere knocked iling to the the rushing Imost like a m one white The captain lOW. d about and ea of white ore stood in the stern. Of course there was wild excitement with some of us. And there were oaths from the grand old cap- tain; for his boatmen did not understand the nautical terms of the old sea-dog and Alaska steamer captain; and so con- fusion followed. That is the brief story of the most daring adventure in which I ever took part; and 1 am no child in years or ad- ventui'e, as all men know. < )ur crew and passengers are .\mericans. One is an old Yankee soldier of the Civil War. Two are from Illinois and are father and son the hoy but fifteen. It makes me l)roud to be an American when 1 find such courage and cool- ness in men who come from far ai)art and were but yes- terday strangers, and who are entirely untrained in hand- ling water craft. Captain McCormick was born and reared on the shores of Lake Krie. He is tall, strong, and has a voice like a lion. l)Ut we did not know he had such a voice until we were in the whirlpool and foaming caflon and had charged into that camp of wild battle horses. AT THE HLAl) OF I.AKK LA I)AW;E. We ti:ntki) in our aspen park, a world of waters before us and behind us, and almost entirely around us, for the river, debouch- ing into the lake, is many miles wide. Our beautiful camp at the head of beautful Lake Le Barge, with its one island, was also in a graveyard. Here v\e were not troubled by mosquitoes; they seem not to like the quaking and restless aspen leaf. 1 learn that they are not found in these sweet groves as a rule. A dolorous loon kept (living and disappearing between his melan- choly cries as our men took turns trying to hit the red crown that blo.ssomed from his black head, and then a great white owl, as white as his melancholy comi)anion was black, and as mournful as any band in the grass at the head of a grave, came out to see with his big eyes if he could see in the EMBARKING ON LAKE LINDEMAN golden twilight what the men v/ere shooting at. I expected to see the men turn loose on the owl with a will. They did not. (Quietly they sat waiting for the loon to come back. Quietly they sat down, one by one, on the edge of the steep bluff by the groves, with their guns on their laps. The loon came back, close by, too, but they did not lift a hand or say a word. They .sat there in the golden, awe-inspi/ing Arctic twilight, silent; a loon in the water, with his crimson crown at their feet, a snow- white owl at their side, the six dead men in their graves under the grass there, and none could say which of all was the most silent, — the dead men under the grass, the great owl in the aspen grove at their side, or the armed argonauts with their rifles across their laps and their weary feet dipping in the dark, still waters. Then the loon cried again and was gone, and the owl lifted like a little white cloud back into the aspen trees, and the men melted away one by one into their tents 163437 n22 OVERLAND MONTHLY KIGHT MILES ABOVE DAWSON CTAMl'EDE is a good old "-f^H. or at least ^ part of it, - older than Julius Ctesar. 1 first heard it in isr)2 in connection with a 1 train of emigrants that had been broken in two by a heni of terrified buffaloes. I think the word "stampede" at first was "storm- pede " or storm-of-feet. Some say it was at first " stamp-pede " ; but no matter, it is the big thing — ihe fashion at Dawson on the Yukon. Stampedes are almost continuous hert. In the latter part of .\ugust there was a strong undertow, or current, that was steadily pulling all the able-bodied men out of town. ("ai)tain Hansen, the head of the great Alaska Commercial ('om|)any, said with a bit of dismay one night: - " It is a big one this time. Men throw- down their tools and leave things and go off almost anytime, and often when we need them most to put on a roof or hang a door, but they don't stay long. They generally say that they are not very well and want to lay 1^^ a day or two, then in about one day and two nights they come limping back to their work, too stiff to lift their legs, and meekly take up their tools. Hut this new thing lasts, and the carpenters and mill h mds keep going It will be the clerks next." I had just returned from the task of examining the mines on the different creeks in detail. It is dull getting back from almost anywhere over these dreadful trails; but when worn out, foot- sore, hungry, thirsty, — very thir.sty. and nothing there to drink when you get back.— it is really and truly dull, very dull, trudging l)ack. There is color in the land, gold and green and brown, and a sense of newness, a sense of discovery, as you go out and as you climb and de- scend into new and unknown gulches; there is the restful and peaceful contour of the great dreamful hills; there is the perfume of the tree and moss as you go on and on, but when you ■ ome back, it is old, old as a book you have read, and dog-eared, and are done with. As I climbed out of the deep creek or gorge at the end of my task 1 could see ittle (lots and sjjots of people, standing afar off, on the naked knobs or round top of (Quartz mountain, could see them now and then moving along the bleak, black ridge, along the moose trails, people no larger or taller than a span, little black, hump-backed people, bent and crooked with packs. I sat down and waited for some of the.'^e men to come along my own moose trail and tell me what it all meant. By good fortune a bright young felhiw from Oakland, my own town, was at the head. The others were shy and kept apart till this young fellow asked after wife and babe; then they all sat down. We smoked to- gether and swapped confidences. And this was the tail end of the present stampede that was driving all the Klondike. I had thought it going the other way. It had started north. It was now heading sharp south; but I had bread, enough for a whole sea bi.scuit lor each man. And with a whole big sea biscuit in his stomach and hope in his heart, who could be hungry? Would 1 go with them? "A pointer," "sure thing," "straight tip," "five dollars to the pan!" These good fellows remodeled sk: STAMrEDKS ON THK KLONDIKE r,2H returned from xaniining the ifferent creeks is (lull gettirifj lost anywhere ■eadful trails; rn out, foot- hirsty, - very thin{f there to u pet back. 1(1 truly dull, jinff back, r in the land, n and brown, )f newness, a ery, as you go climb and de- and unknown is the restful )ntour of the hills; there is the tree and ) on and on, ' 3me back, it jook you have ^ired, and are ieep creek or c I could see >ple, standin}!^ or round top see them now bleak, black Is, peoi)le no !, little black, crooked with d for some of y own moose 1 meant. My : felldw from at the head, apart till this fe and babe; i smoked to- es. And this ent stampede ndike. I had way. It had eadinp: sharp h for a whole with a whole 1 and hope in "A pointer," "five dollars ws remodeled my pack. It rests you mightily lo fix your pack over. It is also a tremendous help to fix your feet, even if you do nothing more than turn your socks wrong side out, ad- just the wrinkles, pull the legs up, and things like that. It was Too Much (!old this time, and now, although it had really started in another direction, this was the third stampede of the year for Too Much Oold. .\nd strangest of all, here were two men who had been in a former stampede to the same place, and really and truly, here was one, a French-Canadian, who had been to both the former stampedes to the same We began to descend to the gorge. We were striking Too Much (Jold on its head- waters. Down, down, down, moss and spruce gum, berries of the best, blue ber- ries, cranberrie.s, jew berrie.s, lots of good, sweet berries, some berries I never saw or heard of, on the rich golden moss. So steep and so deep the gorge; it looked as if the bottom had fallen out and we had fallen on top, but at last we rested. Seven of us in a little fly tent; It was as full as it would hold. The night was bitter cold; windy, too. Then came a wayfaring old man with a most miserable and plaint- ' ^ SLUICING IN BONANZA CREEK place. This Too Much Gold lies in the out- side, the extreme outside, of the great Klon- dike mining country, farthest up the Klon- dike of all mines yet found. You remember the story? how' it came to be called this? No, well, an old Indian who sat watching some miners washing gold near Circle city a few years ago said to them: — "(Jo to Thiondic (Klondike), plenty gold; go to one more creek, two creek, plenty gold; plenty gold one creek, plenty gold two creek; go to three creek, three creek, Too Much Cold." ive voice, — lots of wayfaring people pass- ing up and passing down in the gusty night, — but this man with the plaintive voice did not pass; he asked to sleep in the tent. Certainly! Then he got in between us. He told us all about himself. He told us all about everything, except Too Much (Jold and things we wanted to know. Then he told about his wife and several children as we all lay spooned and tried to sleep. Then he told us about his father, how good and kind he was, and how he had left him the farm, but that there was a seven-hundred- dollar mortgage on it and he had put thir- 524 OVEULANI) MONTHLY teen hundred dollars more on that, and he wanted to stake a claim and sell it for just enough to pay that and take him back to Maine. "All rijjht," siphed my Oakland journal friend; "hope you will do it, but let us sleep now. (lood night." "Thanks, thanks! It does a man good to tind a sympathizing friend in this cold, dark country. It helps a man right smart. Say, do you know if I knew what to bring along, I would have been lots more comfortable, For instance, my father left me a great, big woolen nightcap." "Oood. That's right," said the young man from Oakland wearily. "Now let 'sgo to sleep. I'ut vour hat on your head if it is cold." "Thanks, thanks; but I say, you must not mind if I take otf and twist my over- alls on my head, turban-like, would you ? -it's awful cold on my head here." .\nd that strange man, w'thout waiting for an answer, took oft" his overalls and trou.sers au'I tied them about his bald head while we all shivered from the draught; then he fil- tered down into the full .set of spoons, and we all were so glad. Tliere was a rush to stake next morning. Your stakes must be six feet high, four inclies wide, blazed or hewn with a square at the head. Smaller stakes are not good. All of us set out at a signal, the break of day wa-! the signal, — but there was only one man who knew where the last stake up the creek above the discovery stood, anil that was the weary-voiced man. .\ll of us rushed up and on, and on and up. Then we came back, looking for the last stake of the day before. Then we found the mild- voiced man from .Maine, Hewing his stake. He had stopped behind, .staked otf his five hundred feet above the last stake the night before, and was now the pro[)rietor of the first claim of that day, and ready to pan for his prospect. Some staked, some did not. It wa? quite a mile now up the creek, maybe two, three miles up to the last stake, and so I, having had enough of this last Too Much (iold stampede, climbed ud Quartz mountain with the going down of the sun and set my face toward Dawson. Seven days of picture.sque travel, yet only the last fragmentary end of one day given to the chronic " Klondike stampede." Mut the return is awful: all spirit, all activ- ity, all everything, is gone, and you creep and crawl back home and get into a corner, and ask nothing and answer nothing; you only war.t to be let alone. In this plight 1 lay curled up in a corner behind some boxes in the loft of the .Maska Commercial Company. Aye, comfortable enough; best bed to be had in Dawson; plenty of good fellows to come and ask you about your feet and poke all sorts of fun at you. .And fox skins, I was literally buried alive in fox skins, fox skins of twelve tails; red foxes, white foxe.s, black foxes, and sil- ver gray foxes. l!ut even all this fails to comfort unle.ssyou iiaveareal old-fashioned porterhouse or sirloin steak, and good Cali- fornia Zinfandel. You don't gel strong or well in a day or week when you get run down. The one wise thing to do is to take the first boat and get out. "(let right up! (let right up! It is only eight miles away. The mounted police have struck it up at old IJaker creek. They call it .Montana creek to fool us. It is old I'aker creek, eight miles out of town, you get in a boat here and are rowed up, and you stake and row back. I'>igge.-5t thing ever found. Will call it Montana creek now because the Montana boys with Captain Ilealy of the North .American Transportation Company have helped find it. liiggest thing ever heard of seventeen dollars to the pan!" I was too lame to stir. I gave him my sack and told him to grub-stake the first man he could find, and he hastened away. 1 lay there like one on a battle field shot to death. Next morning I was able to get about, and at daylight in a drizzling rain stood out on the river bank and watched the string of boats which had started up the stream in the night toward Montana creek sweep down the river in the drenching rain with the returning stampede. They had hoped, as is always desired by the stampeders, to get back quietly and unob.served before full dawn. They were disgusted to find the whole town, men, women, children, and dogs, standing out on the bank in the rain to receive them. They assumed a look as we bantered and laughed, assumed in a way that told that they had struck nothing re- markable, but they bore themselves bravely, some singing about the goose flying high, and all that sort of thing, even if it did |)irit, all activ- ind you creep into a corner, nothinfj; you ip in a corner of th(! Alaska comfortable in Dawson; e and aHl< you ortsof fun at iterally buried r twelve tails; foxes, and sil- this fails to old-fashioned nd good ("ali- j;et strouff or you get run do is to take p! It is only 'd i)olice have i. They call t is old leaker you get in a nd you stake f ever found. ' because the lealy of the on Company t thing ever I the pan!" j;ave him my ake the first stened away, field shot to get about, lin stood out 1 the string he stream in reek sweep ig rain with had hoped, mpeders, to 1 before full to find the ildren, and in the rain d a look as led in a way nothing re- vea bravely, dying high, Jn if it did MII.I.KR AN1> I.IVI'.liNASIl AT TlIKli! DAWSON CAIIIN rain pitchforks. Yes, they had staked, but not one of them could guess what he had staked. You must always find gold before you can record, and you must record before you begin to take out gold of any account. Now, this Montana creek, like Too Much (!old, although staked for a long distance, is still an unknown (juantity; and this was the second stampede to this creek within six months, and the second intense excite- ment and stampede this week, and yet the week only partly gone. .And so it goes on the Klondike. I was pulling up a bit on the sixth day, felt fine, in fact, and prei)ared for a real, home-stroke stampede, all my own too; there were only four of us in it, for I had a straight tip. Y'es, tiiey assured me they were all right and all ready. Our plan was to rise at daylight and rush out and up through the rain and mud to near the mouth of Eldorado on the bank of Skookum gulch. I went to bed at four i'. M., back behind my boxes in the loft. At eight a big, round face rose above me like a noonday sun. The man held a dripping candle. "Get up; I have the biggest news that ever came to camp. My foreman has struck 525 ten dollars to the pan on Skookum gulch and has found a ten and a half dollar nug- get only three inches below the moss. (Jet right uj) and go! Only ten miles. It's rain- ing, but you can j)ut on your gum boots and coat, and have got time to get there by day- light and be a millionaire." This man with the dripi)ing candle, wild with excitement, was gooil, honest old Cap- tain Morgan. Cai)tain Morgan was my best friend and oldest in the Klondike. ( Jovernor Morton of Indiana had commissioned him Cai)tain of the 14Itth Indiana before he was yet of age, and his record is glorious. Here the old hero stood, commanding me to take part on the instant in the third terrible stampede of the week. Now, I had made a covenant with friends, — in fact, I had engaged to go on my own stampede at daylight, and had promised Mizner, the chronic stamjjeder, as well as the kind cashier of the Alaska Commercial Companv, to lead them into the land of milk and honey by the light of the morning star, I could not go and keep my word with Miz- ner and the cashier. I flatly refused to get up, and the brave old soldier pulled a few other of his friends together and sent them ,: I 2(5 • Y^\y OVERLAND MONTHLY J I IN MAIUEN MEDITATION forth in the dense darkness in the face of a tremendous storm across the Klondike, up the Bonanza creek, rif^ht into the hof^s, rifjht through the swamps with twenty-foot pros- pect holes to stumble into every few rods. And I went to sleep. The next morninff, I could not find my big-brimmed hat, and had to borrow a hat from the clerk, also one of my stockings and a pair of gum boots had gone away without asking leave. I looked up the street and down the street as I went out to get my seventy-tive-cent cup of coffee; the new town was as empty as a new coffin. I could not find the cashier, the good and kindly (laptain was gone also; 1 had no boat, no boots; I began to think I had lost my head ; I began to wt>nder to my- self where I was at. I sat down on a great heap of fur robes and smoked a cigar. At last, Captain Morgan came. This old vet- eran had made twenty mile.s that stormy night and there my soaked coat lay, down in a box of goods. " Well, sir," began Captain Morgan as a man came up, " this is Mr. Meenach. He is the man who struck it on the hill above Skookum gulch. I must go and get some dry clothes." Captain Morgan hastened down stairs and a mild-eyed middle-aged blond answered my question. "Yes, struck it all right; richest thing ever found in the Klondike, or anywhere eLse. Me and my partner have been work- ing in Seattle till this s|)ring. My jtartner's name is IVterson. He is a I);iru'. I am an American and was born in Kenlucky. We found a $1 ()..")() piece right Ik'Iow the moss last night a little before dark. Then we ])anned out three pans and got $Ll'.».7ri lie- sides (he .$10. no piece. It is the richest thing ever found, 1 think. Men will not take one hundred thousand dollars for their claims. They are almost three hundrei' feet up a sloping hill above Skookum gulch. Skookum gu' 1 i ins into Bonanza about half a mile below KIdorado. Skookum gulch was til richest thing ever heard of till this thing last night. Skookum is owned at the north by Ferguson and Alexander .McDon- ald. Sorry you did not get in last night. Coodby." This in brief is what Mr. Meenach told me about this last stampede, but it was now too late. If I could have pulled myself to- gether, hundreds would have been before me. I can only add that I found during the day all that he said verified. It was truly the richest thing yet found in the Klondike; how extensive, I don't know. Of course, it may be shallow and limited, but I think not. My friend, (Japtain Morgan, the Indi- anian, and now a millionaire, had come back smiling after a run of twenty miles up and back. It don't seem to hurt men, especi- ally if they " get it," to do this sort of thing here. I had founil out as the day passed what had become of the kindly cashier and confidential keeper of about two bushels of miners' "sack.s," and so sat in his office where the bookkeeper was at work making all sorts of excuses for his absence. He had been one of those to whom Captain Morgan had gone after leaving me. He was on a stampede, and had the keys of the great safe in his pocket. At last there stood about a dozen men demanding their sacks. Where was the assistant cashier, Charles Raap, if Mr. Charles V. Devany could not be found? " Well," said I, " Mr. Charles Raap has a headache, as well as Mr. (Charles Devany," and then they began to see through it, and we all laughed together and the miners did not 111 otfensc on, l)Ut assistai door, but ver hands, i a" few i us the (Irippin W Mr. Di a tuml only gt that is This markal knew, having wrr liOlSKUT LOUIS STEVENSON r,9: }ZI I down stairs and I'lond aiiswcrcil il; riclu'st thinj,' te, or unyvvht're lave Ix'cn work- i. My partner's I>afu>. 1 am an Ktiitucky. We below the moss lark. Then we I K«'t .$2il.7r, l)e- t is the richest len will not take dlars for their •ee hiiii(lre(l feet ■ikookum {ruii-h. Bonanza about Skookunif^ulch eard of till this is owned at the xander McDon- t in last nijrht. '. Meenach told , but it was now tilled myself to- ve Iteen before lund durinff the . It was truly n the Klondike; V. Of course, !d, but I think rgan, the Indi- had come back y miles up and ft men, especi- is sort of thing ;he day passed lly cashier and two bushels of t in his office work makinfi absence. He vhom Captain ving me. He he keys of the At last there manding their j stant cashier, f es V. Devany j es Raap has a ' rles Devany," j hrough it, and | :he miners did i not blami- them, said il was their first otfense, hoped it would he their last, and so on, but at three l'. M. both the cashier and assistant cashier came limping in the liack door. They were very wet and very niuildy, l)ut very happy. They had the gold in their hands, several dollars worked out from only a' few inches below the moss. They showed us the golil and hastened away, wet and dri|)|)ing, to record their claims. 'H" If we had .stayeu an hour longer," said Mr. Pevany, "vst i "dd have brought down a tumblerful of iiU};get8. As it was, we (mly got about thre'> dollars to the pan, but that is enou!--*^," This in 'a'' iy'ex|)erience is the m((st re- markable stampede of Die miners I ever knew. These young men did not dream of having any ac'ie part in the mines for some time till this run came to Skookum gulch, but now they may be young million- aires. The two men, Meenach, tile Keii- tuckian, and l'ete?'.son, the Dane, were until last spring employed in Seattle, and knew nothing of goM mines till lately, ami yet 1, an old miner, but. ah, well! How (dose lightning may strike ami not hit! My liat was in this last, but I was not. I did n«>t know that it was the same thing, how could I? My secret had got out. 1 saw Mr. .Meenach this morning; he tells me that he rocked three hours yesterday and took out $S2() from his new claim. Others in the adjoining new claims are doing nearly as well. How like a romance all this last week of tumbled events .seems. Yet I have tried to set things down liter- ally and exactly as I heard and saw them. ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON TN ACCENTS sweet the exiled singer sung, ■*• Of flying sun and rain, of hills and home; The pathos of his lonely voice it rung Out from the island deeps, across the foam. To " wine-red moors," and graves of martyrs lying Unheedful of the peewees' mournful crying. fragile lyrist of the sad-sweet tongue. Who, weary, went to sleep on I'ala's height: His childhood's home, dear land of which he sung, To dawn no more forever on his sight ! The wind and rain to voice his fame are vying, The sounding wave in cadence sad replying. To' him in vain the reddening heather calls, '. In vain the sun breaks gloriously on the moor; He heeds not, for a somber shadow falls, Between him and the " house witii open door." The prayer he breathed, "to behold again in dying," Is'echoed in the peewees' mournful crying. Parma Clei'h-i/.