Hit the deck at seven. We passed Digby Island on the left about eight-thirty and docked at Prince Rupert at nine. I had struck up a slight acquaintance with another lone traveller--Mr. Jay W. Tinney of Hollywood. And such a boy he was. After recalling all the female scandal mongers I know I am forced to award the trophy for dirt spreading to my newly acquired Nemesis. He was a very nice man, wouldn't hurt a fly--but his mind was idle, as his tongue should have been. He became attached to me, thinking that I was a dilettante because he had heard me play the piano. I have my rough side, also.

Rin-Tin-Tinney followed me ashore and we walked up Prince Rupert's main street. It is a sizable town and seemed to be a commercial center. Of course, curio stores dominated the trades, but I think they are hold ups. The only objects that attracted me were the polished black slate totems. We decided to see what could be had further north.

My first faux pas. It was a warm day and as we passed a beer "garden" I invited my new friend to lift a stein with me. He immediately elevated his nose and coolly turned me down--and kept walking straight ahead. I picked up my skirts and slunk to a table. There I soaked up several glasses of the delightful suds--entirely within the law--and proceeded around town alone. The company had improved. I investigated the Government liquor store. The license costs two dollars and the beverages are more costly than our native contraband. No go.

We left Prince Rupert at noon time and very shortly passed the old Indian village of Metlakatla. About half an hour later we passed Port Simpson, one of the oldest settlements in Northern British Columbia. It is an old Hudson's Bay Company trading post where they have operated for over sixty years.

The scenery has improved--there are high, snow covered mountains on both sides of us. The heavy timber comes right down to the water's edge and seems impassable. wherever a settler has located there is a large rectangular clearing with his cabin and small houses within it. There are quite a few small boats passing us.

We crossed Dixon Entrance about three o'clock, the third and last exposure to the ocean. We are now about six miles south of the International Boundary and heading up the Tongass Narrows to Ketchikan.

United States Immigration officials boarded us at six-thirty and fixed our passports. We were on a Canadian vessel from a Canadian port and entering Ketchikan, our port of entry to Alaska. The passports were arranged in a routine manner as it was obvious that we were all tourists.

I went ashore at seven-thirty with another new-found friend--Art Neilson of Los Angeles who was forgetting a southern damsel. Before leaving San Francisco a young lady in the office gave me a note to a friend in Ketchikan's newspaper office. It was my first stop. My mistake. The sun was still up, it seemed to be about three-thirty, but the young lady was home. Why not? Her employer telephoned to her home and she agreed to drive into town to see me. It would take her about half an hour.

We walked around town window-shopping and I returned alone to meet the Alaskan miss. Genevieve Nelson was an attractive young lady and had expected me, but not on the Princess Louise. She had received a letter telling of my coming. She wore a solitaire on the proper finger, though, and all romance departed. She had a date in town but spent a little time telling me about the sights to see. Her employer had just finished printing the ship's passenger list and she gave me an advance copy.

We lift Ketchikan at eight-thirty and headed for Wrangell. The sun set behind the high mountains about nine-thirty but the light seems to last all night.

Here is a coincidence. I was in the observation room about ten o'clock studying the passenger list and right before me were two entries from San Anselmo. Over the hill from home. They were the Misses Mulcahy. I turned to a young lady who was sitting next to me and remarked that there was someone from my home county on board. I just had to tell it to some person. She inquired who it was and I passed her the list. On seeing the names she exclaimed that she and her aunt were none other than the people from San Anselmo. I was agreeable surprised at first but they proceeded to talk me into a defensive position. I had noticed them before--the young girl made herself very prominent by her loud and fast speech and was not without her share of gall.

I finally evaded them and strolled around the boat. There was no dance tonight. As I passed through the dance hall I met three young ladies from Oregon whom I had danced with, and we sat talking until twelve-thirty. Everyone seems to keep late hours and I had to break away so that I could get some sleep.