"Uncle Sam's police."

E had been having the

long daylight

for weeks, and accompanied by so little change that it was easy to forget the days of the week. No wonder that peo

ple lost sight of Sunday-no lessening of work, no peal of bells, no atmosphere of rest.

The hours slipped by and everything drifted into irregularity. The days and hours were all mixed up like the people in the streets, hodge-podge, hurry-scurry, pellmell, no order and couldn't be.

Midnight was like high noon-men

worked twenty hours out of the twenty

3 o'clock in the morning, the dogs howled and screamed continually, and ladies made fashionable calls anywhere from 6 p. m. till midnight. It was not an unusual sight to see five hundred man standing listlessly on the sidewalks at 10 or 11 o'clock at night, the planked street filled with the motley crowd, loads of lumber and coal passing, men leading the line of packs en route for the creeks, only to be disappointed and return in a day or two, to the street scenes of the Nome Mining Camp. Nothing has ever been seen like it. No mining camp was ever established under the same conditions that exist at Nome, and throughout the extreme Northwest. At any time of day one could walk down Front street and see the nations of the world, foreigners from every portion of the globe, and it was a fascinating experience to see miners, speculators, gamblers, capitalists, business men of the town, sight-seers, and all manner of onlookers-many idlers and "dead broke," both men and women.

To one, a close observer of new places, novel scenes and the extraordinary every

and still and the repose of day under conditions wholly unlike anything ever seen before, produced a lonesomeness almost unbearable; the white light of morning touched the peaks, the hills, the low tundra, and kissed the sea into brilliancy of every changing hue, and half the town in slumber every day till nine or ten o'clock.

During June there were but five pleasant days; constant drizzling rain or fitful showers and a peculiar penetrating dampness indoors would seem to be quite

of the United States-to be sure, a little out of the regular trend from East to West, but faithful and good, and with all she has, patriotic. Nome is the capital of the Northwest, and Nome must have a Fourth of July.

The day opened with heavy mist on the hills and a dense fog in the harbor and a volley at the Fort, four miles away, and a dozen fire crackers on the waterfront.

There was a lively thoroughfare on Front street at 9 a. m. No one knew

sufficient to produce the depression of which everyone is more or less conscious.

July was spasmodically cold and rainy, but patches of sunshine let in bits of hope that the real summer had come. Fourth of July! Surely, Fourth of July at Nome!

Uncle Sam has forty-five States, he can look over into Cuba and all the rest -visit Hawaii, and plant the national banner on the plains of Luzon. But Alaska, so nearly the possession of the Frost King, and so truly the territory

whether to

carry umbrellas or wear furs. We first went to the Fourth and carried an umbrella just as we had been taught heretofore, but when we saw snowflakes in the air we didn't know what to do, but we all went home and put on boas, and fur coats, and left our umbrellas behind the door. To our amazement the snow disappeared, and the rain poured. The procession was about to start, and the band was in handsome trim on Golden Gate hill. We all made a rush and the crowd pro

reading of the Declaration of Independence, the patriotic speeches and the songs, "Star Spangled Banner" and "My Country, 'Tis of Thee," in which all joined, and the ring of praise and melody made sweet echo in the soul of many, both weary and discontented, the cheerful and not afraid.

In the late hours of the afternoon there was a varied programme of games and races on Second street, entered upon with more than usual pleasure and merriment. A decided interest was manifested in the fat men's race, but the hose boys, the tub, the walking match and the hurdle, all came in for their share.

Toward six o'clock the sun shed a lovely golden color over the landscape, reflecting high lights on metal and glass, and brightening the streets and lining the clouds with silver fringe-the clouds which had bent low and hung heavy and gray through the busy scenes of the day.

The streets now became one gay throng and the man from the mines forgot the serious problem which had bowed his head and filled his heart with care; the