William Seymour Edwards,
In to the Yukon
“ This is our last day in Atlin. The morning was cold like late November in Virginia, the air keen and frosty. Ice has formed in the pools, though the aspen and scrub willow and a sort of stunted alder are only turned yellow in spots and patches. The mountain-tops are now all whitened with the delicate early snows, extending like blankets of hoar-frost out beyond the margins of the snow fields that never melt.We dine sumptuously, and all through the gold fields it is the same. The one thing men will and must have is food, good food and no stint. ”
