[July 19th - July 30th]

                                           July 19th

     Steamer bound for Kodiak again.  Spend the morning unpacking and packing up again my rocks and fossils and flowers.  In P.M. loaf about the deck.  After dinner we make a landing at Sturgeon Bay, the N.W. corner of Kodiak Island.  Heavy sea, rain and wind.  Collect some rocks in the half light and dry out at a grand driftwood fire while waiting for a boat to take us off. 

                                           July 20th

     Reach Kodiak in the early morning.  Stroll thro' the pleasant woods with Emerson and Muir, gathering great bunches of the lovely briar roses that have bloomed since we were here.  Indians cleaning a great catch of fish on the wharf making an awful smell.  Miss Cornelia Harriman's birthday and lunch table very gay with wild roses and 15 candles.  The baby cuts the gold piece in the cake.  After lunch the launches run over to Fox Island—a fox farm where blue foxes are raised for pelts and we enjoy the outing on the cool water for the sun is hot.  Leave Kodiak at 5 o'clock for Cook Inlet.  Champagne for dinner in further celebration of the birthday.

     I talk in the evening on what I found at Chicagof Bay and get out of it fairly well only Muir says I stopped altogether too soon.

                                           July 21st

     Land a party at Saldovia, Cooks Inlet at 5 A.M.  I am up expecting to be put ashore at Homer soon after but delay follows delay and it is not till 10 A.M. that Gilbert, Dall, Coville and I get off in the launch.  The early morning view of the great volcanic peaks, Uiamna and Redoubt on north side of Cook Inlet.  We expect to spend two days near Homer while ship goes up the Inlet.  Spend the remainder of the day at Halibut Cove, south shore of Kachemak Bay with interesting geology but fearfully bad travelling in the forest.  On the way back to Homer for dinner we meet to our surprise the Elder turned back from her trip and get aboard for dinner.  Pick up the other party about midnight and make straight away for Yakutat.  Dellenbaugh talks about the [?] Indians. 

                                           July 22nd

     At sea out of sight of land all day.  Mrs. Harriman's birthday, celebrated appropriately in the evening.  Another champagne dinner, music and speeches and fancy dancing afterward, then a welsh rarebit prepared by Dr. Morris and the young ladies in the ship's kitchen with much hilarity.  Then euchre and smoking till 12:30.

     I spent the whole morning packing up my rocks and those collected by Emerson to the north, 9 boxes altogether.

                                           Sunday July 23rd

     Approached the coast at Icy Cape about noon.  Clouds slowly lifted and we coasted along the Malaspina Glacier with the panorama of the St. Elias Range gradually unfolding to the view, reaching its best about 5 P.M. as we came to the village of Yakutat.  The clouds did not completely disappear from about St. Elias but Cook, Vancouver and the many pinnacles and ridges about them were magnificant.  Many Indian boats came alongside to trade and for an hour there was a lively scene.  Later we went up the bay a ways intending to put a hunting party ashore for a last bear hunt but they could not make a landing on account of the high surf and as soon as they were aboard again we steamed away southward.  Spent a delightful evening on the hurricane deck watching the sunset glow and talking with Dr. Merriam. 

                                           Monday July 24th

     Sailed all day in view of the magnificent Fairweather Range.  A perfect day, clear and warm a steady wind carrying us along and the slow steady swell of the Pacific to rock us gently as we went.  I scarcely left my post of observation in one of the ship's boats on deck all day but sat and drank in the splendid scene.  Mts. Fairweather, Lituya, Crillion and La Perouse with many an unnamed peak between—great glaciers cascading down their fronts to pour their floods into the sea—densely wooded forests reaching up from sea to snowy slope—the picture ever shifting and changing as we move along.  As the light failed toward evening we passed the last of the high peaks—the fog came down again and we left the open water and began again to thread the narrow channels of the Inland passage at Cross Sound. 

     After dinner something started us to giving college yells and once the ball was set rollling we kept up a lively jig the rest of the hour.  A yell was immediately invented, adopted and practiced

                     Who are we?  Who are We?

                     We are!  We are!  H.A.E.!!!

     Everyone who knew how was called upon to dance and Ritter, Burroughs, Fuertes, Coville and Fernow followed in succession.  Then came a Virginia reel on the upper deck and we adjourned thence to the hall to hear a fine talk by Elliot on a collecting trip in Africa.

25th  At Juneau wharf in the morning.  Had a pleasant walk in the morning up Gold Creek behind the town with Emerson and Trudeau.  Returning met Lieut. Emmons of Sitka and had a pleasant chat.  Ship moved across the bay at noon to coal at Douglas City and I took another stroll up the hill to the Treadwell Mine.  Papers here up to the 19th July and the news of all Harvard's athletic victories.  Start southward again about evening. 

     26th  Still glorious weather.  Just as we had finished lunch the ship cast anchor before a deserted Indian village where the whole party landed.  A lovely cove and beach—fine trees and every appearance of a prosperous village but deserted for some years.  After much discussion it was decided to carry off a number of the huge totem poles lined up in front of the houses and after all had been photographed we began.  Till late that night and all next morning a gang of sailors, the packers and a number of the science people were hard at work hauling down the big logs to the water whence the launches towed them out to be stowed on board.  Nine in all and a lot of small stuff were secured for various museums.  I have one for Harvard.  The best of the poles were removed.

     In the evening cards.

     27th.  Worked all morning at the poles, had lunch on the beach and again worked but not so hard.  A very hot day and the best part of it was the bath when the last pole had left the beach for the ship.  The ship lay at her anchor long after all the stuff was on board to avoid passing the rough water of Dixon entrance during the celebration of the evening in honor of Mr. Harriman.  Speeches, songs, etc. were the order of the day and were some of them very good.

     28th  Still hot but delightful as long as the ship is moving.  Packed up in the morning.  In the P.M. loafed in the shade or wrote a little.  The event of the day was the Captain's evening.  The ship dropped anchor in a little cove just at sunset and all hands repaired to the hurricane deck.  The speech of the evening was by Emerson who was quite up to his high standard.  Others spoke we sang new words to old music, the sailors gave us songs and dances and then came beer and cheese and crackers.  Altogether the most successful and jolly evening we have had. 

     29th.  A restless day—everybody packing or idling about not knowing how to pass the time this last day of the trip.  Lovely sail thro' the narrow channels and hazy smoky mountains.  Am appointed a member of the Committee on Publication—12 in number—who are to be responsible for the volume which shall record the doings and results of our expedition.  Have a sitting of committee after dinner.  Hardest work of the day is writing something for Mrs. Harriman's album which I at last accomplish.  Glorious sunset with the redest of red suns owing to the smoky air.  A school of whales sporting about, throwing their great bodies clear of the water to come down with a tremendous splash.  After dark some modest fireworks on the upper deck—then whist till late—beer and crackers and again a little whist before bed at midnight.

     The lights of Victoria visible in the night.  The heaviest wind of the whole trip—right ahead—tosses the ship around considerable crossing the Straits of Fuca.

     30th  Tied up to wharf at Seattle in morning—3 tons of coal only, left in the hold—lucky we got in when we did------letters from home

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                                          Seattle July 30th

My dearest Helen:

     You may be sure I was up early this morning when I woke to find the ship tied up at the wharf.  I rushed up town with Mr. Curtis who was to have my mail and found -- not a single one from you tho' a large budget from home.  But your precious ones came to me later and I had a long and delightful time reading them.  I am glad you missed me—but a thousand times glad that you had so much to do and think that you had "no time to mourn."  Evidently you have been as gay as the hot weather would permit and from the number of times you have been tired out I should say you had been doing altogether too much.  I saw a Boston paper way up at Kodiak with your name as attending the Smith reception to all the Admirals so I knew from that you were still alive at least.

     You must have your hands more than full to tend to the "Room" and all that involves as well as to take care of the children whom you of course have with you by this time.  But then Alice can help you in so many ways and I know how you adore the children.  By the way—I suppose you have been told that there is another Helen in the Palache family since I left.  You've no idea how funny it is to have two whole months of news piled into one day—it's hard to straighten out. 

     Our main interest, now that the trip is all over is how and when we are to get to our respective homes.  All is uncertainty.  This much only is known—that we go from here by water still in the Elder to Portland, Or. where we finally take leave of her.  When we leave Portland or by what route we return is not known and I do not even know surely as yet whether I am to see Berkeley or not.  But I fear not.  If I do it will not delay my return to Cambridge for I feel sure that counting all possible delays and stops we shall be back by the 10th as I telegraphed, probably sooner.

     What will you think my dear when you receive this short letter.  Will you be quite sure that I have not thought of you atall during the month since I was last able to send you a letter and have written you never a word?  Do not believe it for a moment.  Every day if not each hour I have had you before me and wondered what you were doing each day; and I have tried to write each day or nearly so at least an account of what I have been doing so that you can read it sometime in case I forget the details.  But like you I have felt that writing to you directly when I knew that my letters could not be sent was so hard to do and so unsatisfactory that I gave it up.  You were not discouraged but wrote in spite of your feelings on this point.  I was less true to you in this way and did not put my longings for you on paper. 

     Even now this will reach you so short a time before I meet you face to face that much writing hardly seems worth while.  My telegram which you must have read ere I pen these poor lines will have told you my chief news—that we are safely returned from our long journey with a rich harvest of results and experiences and interests.  I have been gloriously well throughout, and have been able to accomplish far more scientific work than I dared to hope when I started on the trip.  And I feel sure that when I get back and can tell you about it in the happy days we are soon to spend together in a union so much closer than any we have ever enjoyed, you will share with me the feeling that I did well to come and that your sacrifice was not in vain.  What that sacrifice has been I do not believe anyone can realize as well as I.  How I have longed to be with you during these days of preparation to at least give you my sympathy where my advice was unneeded.  I know all you have done is for the best and only wish I could have shared your labor in planning the new home and especially in the tiresome work of the wedding invitations and lists.  That I suppose must all be done before I reach you.  And I assure you now that whatever you do I shall approve.  Set the day of our wedding—send out the cards and let me know when it is to be and I shall be there.

     Believe me that if I have consented to leave you this time it is the last as well as the first that we shall be separated, so widely at least—henceforth we shall travel together or not atall. 

     How did I come to tell you not to write after the 20th?  I might have heard from you fully a week later here.  Even when you receive this I may still get a line from you if you send it to Chicago, care Union Pacific Railroad Co.  Send me a line anyway.

     My plan for our wedding trip is that we go to some quiet place in the White Mts. for two or three weeks before going to Nova Scotia should that visit still be possible.  I suppose that we need not be back in Cambridge so soon as we had planned now that you are getting the house in order before we leave.  Perhaps the middle of September will be soon enough?

     But all my plans must be to suit you who can judge better of the best thing to do being there and I will be only too glad if you will change them or make entirely different ones.

     I must send this so it will go in tonight's mail.  I enclose the journal.  Read it if you care to and send it to Father as I have written nothing home of this part of the trip.  I hope I shall have a telegram from you tomorrow when we reach Portland!  Adieu—a kiss for each of yours and as many more from me.  Love to Alice and the children.  I do not realize that but little more than ten days—maybe less separate us but they will be longer than all the rest put together.  Would that they were over.

                     Farewell

                                lovingly

                                          Charlie