country, the suspicion which would soon ripen into conviction that here too the school is the instrument for inculcating mutually hostile religious beliefs; for alienating class from class, through the alleged concern for religious welfare, and so to perpetuate the evils, to escape which was for many a great reason, for some the chief reason, for leaving home and kindred and all the ties that bind men to the country of their birth. This would be to destroy at a blow the faith that we and they have in the sincerity of our purpose to guarantee to every upright citizen the proper appreciation and enjoyment of civil, political, and religious freedom, and to prepare him for this freedom by education.

That is to say, until men have become so far enlightened as not to insist on the peculiar validity of particular creeds as formulated by different churches, and so far emancipated from ecclesiastical control as to insist on the same spirit of inquiry, and the same exercise of reason in dealing with biblical and theological themes, as in dealing with other matters, it is undesirable and impossible to introduce explicit and formal instruction in religion into the public schools.

(Concluded in October number.)

C

DAZIE M. STROMSTADT, SITKA, ALASKA

ONDITIONS in Alaska are interesting, since in many respects they are primitive; in some respects, embryonic; in all, teeming with life, energy, change, movement, progress, and intensity. Life here appeals to the man who can see opportunities, and has the energy to go after them. It appeals to the man with red corpuscles enough to say, "I cannot pass a pile of wood needing to be cut without wanting to go at it." It appeals to the man interested in men, for here the white man lays aside some of his cloaks of dissimulation and conventionality, appearing in his naked selfishness and greed, or generosity and sincerity. It appeals to the teacher because the child is free from the countless distractions of city life, from the weakening influences of easy access to amusements, toys, and all that he desires; because here is the native in all stages, from the original savage to the educated, self-supporting, well-to-do, Englishspeaking, native gentleman. Indeed, the culture conditions of Alaska are interesting from their variety, their peculiarities, and because the very deficiencies are advantageous.

Consider first the opportunities of the white man's child. If living in any of the towns of Southeastern Alaska-Ketchican, Juneau, Sitka, Skaguay, or Seward-he has the advantages of good schools, denominational and public, and churches, Catholic, Greek, all phases of Protestant, and Christian Science. Through the cable which, it is interesting to note, carries more messages than any other cable in the world with one exception, and through the southern steamers which touch at these towns at least twice a week during the winter months, and much more frequently during the tourist season,—through the cable and steamers the older members of the family keep in close touch with the States"; indeed, take a deeper pride in and watch more carefully the affairs of the world than those who are "below" and in the midst of things.

The towns far to the westward, too, like Nome, and in the

interior, like Fairbanks and Dawson, have their schools and multiform churches. Nome has her cable during the season the boats cannot run, and Dawson and Fairbanks are reached by boat in summer and by a well-worn trail in winter, over which mail is received several times a month. With two exceptions these are live towns, pulsating and throbbing with energy. Those living here, whether young or old, cannot but feel that life is activity, is a pursuit, a struggle -- a struggle in which, according to the prevailing theory of the day, it is ordained that the fittest survive. The contrast lies between the conventional business man of the States, following regulations, rules, and ruts, and the man in Alaska, who must be capable of doing things better than his neighbor if he keeps his position; who must be adaptable to changes; who must make precedents himself; who must be able to make necessaries, and supply deficiencies, all of which are ready-made "below." This breeds strength. It cannot but influence the rising generation which lives among these men.

Again, outside of that baleful class which curses our country, the gambling element, Alaska attracts men of power. The difficulties are too great for the lazy, indifferent, or weak. Alaska is full of brainy lawyers and capable college men. Indeed, I am told by a man who has been to the interior a number of times that it is not at all unusual to stop at a camp over night and find among the miners around the fire a Yale or Harvard, Princeton or Oxford man. Alaska, also, has more than the usual proportion of able men with no education but that of the school of experience; and so practical, and strong, and successful are they that they form the very backbone of Alaska's progress. These men, whether college bred or not, must pass through the fire of hardship and temptation; and those who endure come out men indeed, men who give tone to their environment.

Besides, there is an intimacy here that to me is a curious factor, especially since Alaska is so large. It is as far from San Francisco to Nome as from Boston to San Francisco, and two thirds as far from Nome to Fairbanks. Yet it is true that everybody knows everybody in the territory. A lawyer, a

doctor, a successful miner, of a few years' residence in Alaska is known from Fairbanks to Juneau. This intimacy makes the individual an important factor in a large radius, and has a marked influence both for good or bad, according as the man proves "square" or a failure.

Another condition that, I believe, is an important element, has been hinted at, and is one that touches the old and young, the rich and poor. The education and civilization of to-day often weakens, I believe, because of its "muchness." We are overtrained, or at least compelled to follow too closely prearranged laws and regulations. The natural tendencies, those traits which make the individual distinctive, are given too little play. Too often we look ready-made. We have been turned out by the hundred. When this is true the charm of the individual is gone, and much of his power. But in Alaska, as in all new countries the opportunities for education, and the marks of civilization are all too few. There are schools for children but no colleges; there are no libraries, no good theatres, and little good preaching. Men and women are thrown on their own resources, and soon show their level.

Workmen are often not to be found. As a result, we find men everywhere who, like our last governor, can dig stumps, or farm, or do a bit of difficult mechanical engineering, and in the evening read his Greek; or like our admirable bishop, who has with his own hands built a chapel at Nome, where it was much needed, and no men and small funds were at hand, and yet on Sabbath preaches a sermon that shows rare mental ability, and on other days of the week mixes with men with as much tact and adaptability as he has shown in more material ways. The necessity of doing things for one's self is felt even by the children. I saw an illustration of this the other day in the sixth grade. The children were told to draw a circle and indicate the zone belts. There was not a compass in the room. Some used ink bottles, some drew free-hand. One boy cut a strip of cardboard, making a row of holes in it with his knife. Using the end hole for a center, with his pencil in another hole he made as perfect a circle as one would wish. I ascertained that it was his own idea. I see evidences, almost every day of

this same tendency. Therefore, I hold that some of the very difficulties and the lack of things here are breeding self-reliance and strength.

If Morris and Carlyle and our beauty theorists are right, I should leave out the strongest factor in the culture conditions were I not to mention the wonderful scenery; scenery not only beautiful here and there, but beautiful everywhere; not only beautiful, but magnificent. There are the unmeasurable plains of water, thousands of miles of sea in its great majestic way claiming all the picturesque bays, and rippling up into them or thundering through them as its regal will desires; stretches of water dotted with countless pine-clad, moss-covered islands. There are snow-capped mountains exquisite on cloudy days because of their fathomless purple shadows; gorgeous at night and morning when tinted a soft pink or bathed in a sea of rosy light. Everything built on such a magnificent scale that one must perforce believe it has been the home of giants. Everything so beautiful one cannot but believe it was planned by a god of beauty. Surely such an environment must tell on the inhabitants.

Now as to the native and his opportunities. The first invasion on the natives of Alaska was made by the Russian traders. They were followed by the Russian priests who attracted many of the people by the glitter and form of the Greek Church. Then in rapid succession came American traders, missionaries, and teachers. The traders secured their rich prizes and left behind the white man's drink and the white man's tricks. The teachers and missionaries, though few, have labored faithfully and long and against almost unconquerable difficulties. There were the inherited tendencies from countless generations of Asiatic hordes, and hundreds of years of lonely life in the frozen north to overcome. There were the lessons taught by men of the more nearly civilized races to unlearn. There were centuries of mental lethargy to arouse. The reality of something better than their lives possessed, to reveal; the value of this other life, to instill. When schools were established, the reports of teachers from all parts of Alaska showed there was disease to combat, indifference to meet, feasts and potlatches,