There was no movement of pack-trains out over or in from the trail for the two days the Ogilvie waited at Glenora, and a few incoming packers reported that the corduroying of the bogs between the succession of stony hills had been completed for some 30 miles, nearly to the Hudson’s Bay Company’s post, and that the detachment of mounted police at Lake Teslin were rap-idly putting up their buildings and laying out a permanent post. The current is very swift between Glenora and Telegraph Creek, twelve miles above, where the Teslin trail strikes away to northward, and as there was no freight to carry and no passengers to be called for, we did not see that last outpost reached by the Western Union Telegraph Company’s wires in 1866, when their surveys for a land line across Siberia to Europe were brought to an end by the success of the Atlantic cable. A distracted packer, however, visited the steamer to know for how much less than one dollar each mule the Ogilvie would go to Telegraph Creek and ferry across 75 mules that he had successfully driven up from Ashcroft, on the Fraser river, but the purser could not figure out any profit for the steamer to undercut the local canoe ferry prices, and the mule owner was the picture of despair. Above Telegraph Creek the Great canon of the Stikine extends for 50 miles, a deep gorge, with terrific rapids and bends, which cannot be traversed save on snowshoes, and which by its inaccessibility is safe in the reputation it has of holding the wildest scenery of the Stikine region. The river rose five feet the second night, in consequence of rains in the Dease Lake country, floated the steamer across the little wharf to which it was tied, and nearly carried away the lumber for the gold commissioner’s house before the boat’s watchman could arouse a salvage corps. When we left Glenora that morning, it was a new sensation to fly past the banks so rapidly, the engine only making play of the downstream jour-ney. We shot the Little cation in less than three minutes, where we had struggled thirteen minutes on the way up, the Ogilvie drawn in with the sweep of the current under half steam, and then, with snorts, roars, and wheezes of full steam under forced draught, steering a mid-course through the eddies and dashing waves of that narrow chute, the most exciting and dangerous piece of navigation in Alaska. The peaks and glaciers whirl past in their different rearrangements, and in the earliest afternoon, seven hours after leaving Glenora, we had accomplished the serpentine 125 miles and were fast at the Ft Wrangell wharf, the Ogilvie and all the boats of the line then receiving orders to abandon the Stikine and Alaska route. The “all-Canadian ” and the Klondike incident closed abruptly, and this river of rivers, this culmination and epitome of Alaskan scenery, this most magnificent stretch of peaks and glaciers along any watercourse of the continent may not again be accessible to easy pleasure travel as in the fitful season of 1898. .